#vemanalor

[bamfahsoka]

As OP made very clear, this is a NSFW/18+ post so minors be gone!

༒• Gala’s Masterlist •༒

So I’ve decided to start a Masterlist, just to keep things on the tidy side of the galaxy.

Blog Guide ✧ My AO3

Requests are closed.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

!!! NSFW / 18+ only/ Minors DNI !!!

Keep reading

[freakrenaissance]

Gahhhhd! I love this! 🤤 the last 4 -5 paragraphs, I just kept chanting "please, let him walk in! Please!" & then, ding! 🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾 this story is already superb... can't to read the rest!

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Veman'alor ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

!!! NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI !!!

Rating: Explicit Wordcount: 5.7k CW: Voice kink, masturbation, accidental voyeurism, age difference (older Boba), dad bod appreciation

Series Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ Main Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ Taglist Signup

🙤 · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · 🙦

Chapter 1 - Arrivals, beginnings

You were there, the day he arrived.

You’d had some business with Fortuna and you had put it off way too long. You hated the palace, hated the memories you had of that place, hated the way Bib Fortuna stared at you even after you tried your best to cover yourself up. You usually wore a mask, less to protect your identity – you were not a bounty hunter – and more because you felt like you could not hide the disgust on your face when you looked at the fat Twi’lek sitting on Jabba's throne. Because that's what it still was - Jabba's throne.

So you were there, the day Boba Fett arrived at the palace. It was a mess, it had been even before Fortuna’s murder – he was not a good ruler. You had wanted to leave when it all happened, not sure if this man, this bounty hunter, this… Mandalorian? was actually who you thought he was, though by the way everyone around you had reacted, you were pretty sure of it. But leaving would have felt like treason, and even if you hated the palace, it was good business. You had pondered your options and decided not to run for the dunes too soon.

And you were intrigued. Intrigued by the stories you had heard, by Fett's sudden appearance, even by the coldness with which he had killed Fortuna. Fett had not even spared a second thought at the pleas for mercy resounding in the room. And he had sat down on the throne like it had been made for him. He looked good on it. Like he belonged. Or rather… like it belonged to him.

Fett had soon dismissed the entire entourage that had gathered in the room where Bib Fortuna’s body lay with a wave of his hand, some scrambling out, some keeping their pace more measured, trying to hide their fear. But you could feel it crackle in the air, the awe he inspired, and the dread. The admiration and the envy. You had tried to slip out as quietly and inconspicuously as you could manage after Fett had told everyone to come back in three days time to negotiate for new deals.

For those three days, you had done nothing but think about the situation. About him. How was he alive? How had he returned and won, so quickly, so easily? Why was no one challenging him – yet? And, most important of all: Did you want to go back for negotiations?

He had been very smart to dismiss everyone there. If they’d had the courage to bond together to try and overthrow him before he was ever truly seen as the ruler, there would not have been much he and his apparent hired hand could have done. But as he had done it, he’d overwhelmed everyone with his sudden presence, so much so that they had taken the chance to flee as soon as it was offered. And now he could establish himself, letting small groups of people into the palace, never too many until he had found more employees he trusted to defend him and his rule.

You thought about Boba Fett a great deal. You had never seen his face, never spoken to him, never knew more than the tales you had heard of his ingenuity, his power, his determination and yes, his cruelty. Even now you could hardly say you had met the man. Seen him, yes, but not met. Yet his grip on you was already undeniable.

The rumour mill was churning out new theories by the second; barely half a rotation after his return, basically the whole planet knew that Boba Fett was sitting on Jabba’s throne. Because that’s what it still was to everyone, even after half a decade under Bib Fortuna’s rather pathetic rule. Still Jabba’s throne, with all the power and connections that came with it, even if most of them had gone unused in the past years. Except for the slave trade. Fortuna had used those connections incessantly, and… you did not truly dare to hope a man like Boba Fett would banish slavery from his planet, but nonetheless, until you found out more, you were giving him the benefit of the doubt that he would at least try to clean things up around here. Even if it was only for his own good, and the good of his new criminal empire.

You had heard in passing that the woman accompanying him was Fennec Shand, a bounty hunter of exceptional skill. Other than that, no rumours had any substantial evidence, so you decided you would wait and see for yourself what Fett would be like before letting your imagination run too wild.

You deliberately did not to go back on the third day as Fett had asked. It took all your determination, all willpower you could muster, because aside from the business aspects of it all, you were also curious. More curious than you could remember ever being in your entire life. The memory of the sheer aura of power that had surrounded Boba Fett never left your thoughts, and you caught yourself thinking of him as your hand slid between your thighs that first night. And then the next. And the one after that. You scolded yourself afterwards, taken aback by your own mind. You had never even exchanged a word with him, he had not looked at you and you yourself had left that throne room as quickly as you could after your dismissal, not daring to look at him for too long.

You did not go back on the third day, because that was when you assumed almost everyone else would go. Your assumptions were confirmed when you strolled through Mos Espa that afternoon. A long track of merchants, tradesfolk, general criminals and scum had gathered to make the trek through the dunes to Jabba’s palace. Well... Boba’s palace. For some reason, calling it that seemed easier than thinking of it as „Bib Fortuna’s palace“ ever had.

You figured that on the fourth day, there would still be enough people coming to see Fett that you would not stand out too much, and it hopefully would not be too late to offer your services. You were a mechanic for the podraces, as well as helping out in shops here and there. You did not like being employed much, the lack of power to decide over your own schedule had always bothered you, but you did not have the credits to open your own shop either. When there had been an opening for working the pit stops for the races, you had jumped at it, because it paid surprisingly well. Aside from the financial aspect, you had set dates when races took place, surrounded by enough free time to do some independent work of your own, make some extra money on the side to save up.

Your position in bargaining with the new ruler of Tatooine would depend on whether he even planned to continue hosting races - Fortuna had not been particularly partial to them but he had not stopped them either. You could not see why Fett should, it would be a bad move on his part to remove the one thing inhabitants and tourists alike enjoyed about this dry, joyless planet. But you would never know unless you asked. So, on the morning of the fourth day after Boba Fett’s takeover, you packed your things, your tools, some food and water, and took out your speeder bike. You were glad you had tinkered on your own, searching for scraps in the pits and through the odd jobs, bought some of the rarer parts. It had paid off tenfold to have your own bike, and today it did once more: None of the rental shops in town seemed to have any left and you sure as hell did not want to make that trek on foot.

*****

Loads of people are going in the same direction as you, but the crowd does not seem quite as overwhelming as yesterday. You have decided against wearing the all-covering outfit you would have usually worn. You have also decided not to look too closely at the reason as to why. You are still wearing your mask though, as well as some goggles because getting sand in your face at the speed your bike goes? Not fun.

The last couple klicks of the pathway to the palace are littered with people, vehicles, and even vendors. You scoff as you slow down so as to not run anybody over, and weave your way through the groups of people until you are about as close to the palace doors as you can get. You park your bike, careful to lock it up as safely as possible. You do not trust anyone who has any business here. You may be part of this group, but then again, they shouldn’t exactly trust you either.

When you arrive at the heavy gates, your boots sinking deep into the sand, some guards are waiting around. They are not Gamorrean but seem to be of many different species. You figure they are probably bounty hunters, maybe some that Fett knows from years ago? From before he died. You shake your head to get rid of that stupid thought. He obviously did not die, even if nobody knows how he managed that.

You stand in line for a few minutes, until a human man asks for your name, occupation and previous connection to Fortuna. When you tell him you work as a mechanic, his eyes light up, and instead of sending you back to wait like he did the others before you, he calls for the gate to be opened.

Surprised, you raise your eyebrows at him, but he just shrugs and tells you to go in.

You always forget how much cooler the air is inside the palace. You shiver a bit as you make your way to the throne room, since no one told you to go anywhere else. No one lingers on the sides of the shady corridors - not a surprise, but still an odd and unfamiliar sight. Usually, there were always shady deals being made in every corner, lewd glances following you from every turn. But the broad hallways seem entirely deserted. The stairway down to the throne room is dimly lit, and your footsteps sound strangely loud and out of place in the silence that surrounds you. You pause for a second before you step into the throne room, smoothing over your hair, straightening your blouse and patting your cheeks a bit. Your heart is racing and you have no idea what to expect. You take a deep breath, then step forward and into the room.

Boba Fett sits on the throne, legs spread wide, reclined back, apparently completely relaxed, his left arm on the armrest while the other lays on his thigh plate. Fennec Shand stands in the shadows behind him, barely visible, her blaster rifle held loosely by her side. You don’t doubt for a second that she would shoot you should you make one wrong or too sudden move.

Fett is wearing his helmet, but you think you can still feel his eyes on you as you make your way across the room to stand before him. He does not say anything, doesn’t even acknowledge that you have entered; unlike Shand, whose intense gaze burns into you. You stop before the throne, elevated on its pedestal, the new ruler of the planet towering over you. The urge to sink to your knees before him hits you out of nowhere, and you have to fight to not bow your head. His presence is intense, intoxicating, and it makes you shake even though he has not even moved. The energy this man exudes is indescribable. You fight to keep looking at him, staring into his dark visor and refusing to speak first.

You don’t know where the courage not to adress him comes from when you are so obviously in the position of the applicant, but somehow, breaking the silence would feel wrong. Like giving in before the fight had even started. What fight, you could not say.

A minute passes, and the impulse to look away, to speak to him, grows stronger by the second, but if there is anything you are proud of, it’s your resolve and your ability to gauge a room. You feel like Fett is waiting for you to... submit.

Finally, he sits up a little, resting his chin on his hand, the frame of the helmet moving downwards just slightly, and now you are absoutely sure he is looking at you. Your goggles are sitting atop your head, and you remove your veil, never looking away from the dark visor that is fixed upon you.

Boba Fett stares at you and you feel like you’re on fire.

He says your name.

His deep, raspy voice surprises you, far too rich even through the vocoder of his helmet. You don’t know what you expected, but it is not this. It fits him perfectly, as voices rarely do. You nod, but you don’t say anything else. He let you pass before anyone else, he must have a reason. You will wait for him to give it.

"So, you’re a mechanic that worked for Fortuna?“ he drawls, and you want him to say something else, anything else, so you can memorise his voice. Your traitorous body surprises you, your core tightening and your breath going just a little faster. There is just something about him…

"Yes-“ You hesitate. By what title should you call him? Your brain seems to be lagging behind, and so you decide that short answers are probably best for now. Stick with what you know.

"And did you enjoy your work?“ Fett sounds amused when he poses the question, and you can’t tell if it is because he somehow knows the turmoil that is going on in your mind, or because he thinks he knows how you will answer.

"I did enjoy the work,“ you say, and after a slight pause you add, "but not Fortuna. I’m not saying this to ingratiate myself with you. I like being a mechanic, I like the work and I am good at it. Fortuna was just… someone. Someone who had regular business. I won’t miss him, if that’s what you’re really asking.“

Fett is quiet for a while.

"Good,“ he says then. "Some of the others who were here before you did not seem to think the same of this… situation. But when asked for a good worker, more than one gave me your name. You must have done something right, girl. Being in good standing with more than one colleague is hard around here.“

You supress a smile, inclining your head and waiting for him to go on. His helmet tilts as the silence stretches on. You will yourself to be patient.

"I have an offer,“ Fett says finally. "But it will require commitment and flexibility. If you prove yourself worthy, it will pay off, for you and me both. If you try to betray me… nothing will be able to save you.“

The sudden shift in tone makes your head spin. Barely two whole sentences, and a job offer and death threat packed into one? Maker have mercy.

"I came here to ask if you will continue the pod races,“ you venture when he doesn’t go on. "I liked my job, it paid good money and it left me enough free time to earn something extra on the side-“

"You won’t need that if you accept my offer,“ he interrupts you. "If you’re loyal, and work as hard and well as I’ve been led to believe, you will be able to live quite comfortably.“

"What does this… offer entail?“ you ask, because he hasn’t given you any of the important details yet. You wonder whether he was waiting for you to enquire more. Maybe he was hoping you would jump at the chance to work for the great Boba Fett, no matter what the job is. But you want to know before you agree to anything. Even if the financial compensation is as astounding as he makes it out to be.

"You will move into the palace,“ Fett says, and before you can even open your mouth to protest, he goes on. "You will not be working the pit stops anymore. You will work for me, and me alone. You’ll care for my ships and if you do well here, I will take you on some off-world missions with me in the future.“

Going off-world? This is starting to sound too good to be true. And you have to ask.

"Why me?“

"Why not you? Do you have any other engagements?“ he counters. "Any better offers?“

"I don’t,“ you answer, maybe a bit too quickly.

"I’m willing to give you a chance, solely because I need someone with your skill set. I haven’t found anyone else who has the… particular combination of characteristics I am looking for. And I won’t waste my time searching for someone else if you accept the initial offer and prove yourself to me.“

Your mouth is dry. This will turn your life upside down, but you don’t think you mind. You have been getting by fine so far, but that’s just it. Fine is not good. This could be a golden opportunity, and you see no reason why you should refuse him. If it does not work out, you can still go back to your old jobs, quite possibly even having saved enough money to move on to another planet.

"Alright,“ you hear yourself say while your mind is still racing.

Fett murmurs something under his breath, caught between his helmet and his vocoder. You can not make it out exactly, but it sounds like… good girl? You swallow hard and focus on what Fett is telling you: about your payment – which is more than generous – about tasks he already knows are coming up and so on, your head spinning with the details and possibilities he lays down before you.

"You will move in as soon as possible. To travel between the city and here every day would be unnecessarily time-consuming. And I don’t want you getting assaulted by Tuskens if I ever need you here at inconvenient times.“

"I will pack my things and can be back here tomorrow,“ you answer, and you swear you can hear him chuckle lightly. Fett nods sharply, then leans forward a bit. Involuntarily, you take a step forward, closer to him because his body language commands it.

"We will prepare your contract.“

He does not say goodbye, doesn’t dismiss you, just leans back in his chair, his helmet turning away from you and you can feel that you are no longer needed.

"Thank you,“ you say, then turn away and leave the throne room. Only when you step outside the palace do you feel like you can breathe freely again. Boba Fett is... he is overwhelming, all-encompassing. This job will either be the best decision you have ever made, or you will die trying to prove yourself to him.

*****

The next morning, you send a message to Fennec who sent you a short holo last night, telling you to let her know when you will be arriving. Flinging your saddlebags over the back of your bike you head off, racing towards the rising sun. Most of what you are taking with you are spare parts you think might be useful, but you also have your work clothes and some memorablia that you can not leave behind or throw out. When Fett said you would be living in the palace he did not exactly specify your living situation and you forgot to ask, too overloaded with the intensity of his presence. You figure you will be fine, though. It can not be much worse than the old barracks where you have been staying so far – actually, you are almost daring to hope it might be better.

When you arrive at the gate, Fennec Shand is waiting for you, leaned back against the wall and ignoring the people still waiting for an audience with the new ruler of Tatooine.

"Hey there, tinker girl,“ she greets you, the cool tone of her voice a contrast to the sweet nickname she just called you.

You smile a little and greet her back with a nod, deciding you do not mind her teasing.

"Let’s put you into the security system, shall we? Can’t play babysitter every time you leave the palace.“

She orders the electronic eye that has been guarding the palace since the dawn of times to take your retina scan. When the gate opens up, Fennec drags you inside with her before the wall closes up behind you both once again. There are a couple more security mechanisms to go through that definitely were not in place when Fortuna was running the palace; all kinds of bio-scans, as well as some codes Fennec has you memorise, and a specially made keycard for your room she gives you as she leads you through the palace, to a part that you have never seen before. It’s not the servant’s quarters like you were expecting. Instead, your room seems to be located in the smaller tower next to the main building.

"You live on the third floor,“ Fennec explains as she puts your keycard to the elevator scanner. "Your key will only take you up to there. Boba lives in the upper levels, don’t even try to get up there. If you truly do prove yourself, you may gain access at some point in the future. For now, your access shall remain restricted.“

You nod along to her explanations as you try to memorise the layout of the palace as far as you know.

"Wait, wait, hold on,“ you say, your heart stumbling when you really grasp her words. "I live in the tower with… him?“

"Yes,“ Fennec answers coolly. "So do I. I’m a couple levels above you. He told me to put you up here, Stars know why. Maybe so I can keep a closer eye on you.“

She winks, but you also get that feeling she might be serious about keeping an eye on you. Well, you have nothing to hide, and so far, you actually quite like her.

You arrive with a faint ding, and your mouth hangs open for a second when the elevator doors slide open. Compared to your quarters in Mos Espa, these rooms are… pure luxury. Actually, scratch that. Not even just in comparison with the barracks. These rooms are legitimately beautiful. Tall, wide arches, soft curtains blowing in the breeze, open layout… You whistle through your teeth.

"Son of a… you’re sure these are for me?“

"So he tells me,“ Fennec sounds amused. "You’ll have this level to yourself. If anyone keys in your storey number, you’ll be notified by a bell when they get here. Nobody but Boba and myself have access to this building so far, so it shouldn’t happen too often.“

You just nod, your mouth slightly agape as you finish your round through what you can only call a reception area. The layout is fascinating, with the main room being connected to the adjacent ones by broad arcs that can be closed with sliding doors.

Fennec shakes her head as she watches you.

"I’ll let you get settled, but you’d better not take the whole day. Boba has some tasks for you already, and I wouldn’t keep him waiting.“

"Yes, of course,“ you say absent-mindedly. Your blood suddenly seems to run hotter when you think of seeing him again. Just as Fennec turns around and heads for the elevator, a thought crosses your mind, and you call out to her before she is gone.

"Hey, Fennec!“

"What is it, tinker girl?“

"What… what should I call him?“

She chuckles at that, and shrugs.

"I just call him Boba, but we’ve known each other for a long time and are connected by some... debts. You‘ll have to ask him that.“

The elevator doors close and she is gone.

You groan. Fuck. This had been exactly what you were trying to avoid. Asking him directly will be… awkward, at best. Terrifying at worst.

You take a short tour of the rooms while you ponder. On one side, you have a separate sleeping chamber and your own refresher which, to your utter delight, has an actual water shower, not a sonic one. Across from your sleeping chambers, there is a work room that is nearly empty except for a huge table made for 3D-holo projections, and some shelves that are filled with mechanical blueprints on datapads. To your astonishment, you even find some rolls of durasheet which seem to be hand-written blueprints of a Starship. You can feel yourself getting giddy at the prospect - this is what you do, this is what you love. You’ll have to give all of this a closer look later when there is nobody waiting for you. The last room is a small kitchen and dining area; the shelves are stacked with ingredients and water.

This feels unreal. More like a vacation than a new job. You lounge on your bed for a while, spread out like a starfish and trying to take it all in. Then, you pull yourself together, get up, pick out your favourite overalls and make your way down to the courtyard where you think the ships would be parked. Well, ship? Ships, plural? You are not really sure what Boba Fett needs a personal mechanic for, but so far, this job seems so fantastic that you don’t much care.

When you get to the yard, you nearly trip over your own feet, because he is there, waiting for you, leaning against his ship. You know all about his ship, the famous Firespray. Well, everything stories could tell you, anyways. The Slave I is the stuff of legends, even if the name makes you shudder uncomfortably. Fett stands up a bit straighter as you stumble towards him. Today, you don’t seem to have the nerve you scraped together yesterday. He makes your heart race and your skin tingle.

"Careful, princess,“ he says when you almost trip again, and you blush redder than a blumfruit, not just at your own clumsiness, but at his choice of pet name and the delicious sound of his voice. It has been merely one day since you have heard Fett speak for the first time, but you had already convinced yourself that he could not possibly sound like that, that you had imagined it, made his voice better than it had really been. You have not. If anything, your memory has not done him justice. Fuck me.

"I’m okay.“ You wave him off, trying to regain your composure.

"Good. Be a shame to send you back home with a broken bone on your first day, wouldn’t it.“ His voice sounds slightly amused under the helmet, but it’s hard to tell without seeing his face. Maker, you want to know what he looks like under there.

"Come on, I’ll show you ’round the ship,“ he grumbles as he makes his way up the ramp. "I saw you worked with Kuat Engineering before, but the Slave is one of a kind. I’ll watch you for a while before I leave you alone with my ship. I don’t… I don’t usually let strangers near her. Fennec convinced me I won’t have time to do everything myself if I am to run this planet properly.“

When before, he sounded almost nice, coversational even, like someone you would like to get to know, his voice is now icy-cold when he adresses you.

"If you mess up, you will be kicked out faster than you can say mercy, girl. I have no mercy, especially not when it comes to my ship. I don’t care if you mess up because you don’t know enough, don’t care enough, or don’t pay enough attention. If you damage my ship, I will not forgive you. Do you understand?“

"Yes, Sir,“ you manage to press out, not even thinking about the title your brain decided on in its panic.

"Good girl,“ Fett mumbles, and his posture relaxes ever so slightly. You shiver at his praise, a rush of arousal running down your spine. Nope. No, no. Not now. Not a good time. You try to shut your brain up. You’re glad he doesn’t seem to take offence at your silence.

"Let’s get started,“ he says, placing one hand on your waist and pushing your towards the cockpit. You think you black out for a second when he touches you. Even though there are several layers of clothing between you, nothing could have prepared you for the attraction this man holds for you. You feel oddly electric all over, letting yourself be pushed down into the seat without resistance.

The layout of this ship freaks you out a little. None of the stories you head ever talked about the inside of the ship. Its weaponry, yes, the impressive skill level it requires to fly her. The intimidating atmosphere that surrounds it, even the paintjob. But never the inside. You wonder if that is because no one who has ever stepped foot inside it besides Boba is dead.

The layout is different from the racing speeders, which you very much expected, but it is also different from any other starship you have ever worked on - which, admittedly, are not many. Still, it is weird, with its elongated belly, the portable carbon freezer, with the ladders that don't seem to make any sense and the strange feeling that everything is facing the wrong direction.

Fett sits in the seat next to you – actually, he sits on the back rest, like you are right now. If you wanted to sit down properly, you would need to lay in the seat. Which… your thoughts trail off as you imagine him pushing you down into the seat and… and you’re only snapped out of it by Fett barking your name.

"Girl! Are you paying attention or do I need to repeat myself? If this is too complicated for you, you can pack your things and leave.“

Fett's harsh words hurt, and you bite down on your cheek to stop your lip from quivering. Usually, you do not cry quite so easily, but something about him makes you want to desperately prove yourself. You want him to be proud of you.

"Sorry, Sir,“ you choke out. "This ship is just… fascinating.“

"I know,“ he drawls. "I’ve left all her blueprints in your workroom so you can get a feel for the layout and all the modifications regarding the weapons compartments. For now, there’s some easy work that I’ll watch you do, to get a feel for how efficiently you work, how... intuitive you are.“

You nod along as Fett explains the tasks, none of them sounding particularly demanding, just like he said. You try your hardest not to make your attraction too obvious, even as you hang on his every word. You want to watch his lips move, see his eyes burn into yours, but the helmet forms an unbreakable barriere. You banish your more than impure thoughts to the back of your mind as he goes on, trying to focus. You refuse to lose this job simply because you are lusting after a man you barely even know.

"You’ll work on some speeders and racers next before I let you anywhere near her more complicated parts, but these wires couldn’t wait and I thought I might as well watch you now.“ His voice is impatient, but not unkind. You pull yourself together.

"Understood,“ you answer then. "Let’s get to work.“

*******

You have been here for some weeks now, the palace proving to be a much better place to live in than you had ever expected, but you think that’s also because of the company you keep. Fennec and you have become tentative friends, sipping spotchka together in the evenings, while Boba has left a week ago, taking the Slave I with him.

None of the other personnel have joined in on the strange arrangement. None of them seem to live in the tower, and Boba does not speak more than necessary to any of them. But, as you have positively noted, they all seem to be employed, not enslaved, and you can not help but appreciate what he has done. For whatever reasons, Boba does not employ indented dancer girls anymore, and pays everyone who works for him fairly, at least as far as you can tell. You are grateful. Living in the palace in near-luxury would have been harder - impossible, actually - if an enslaved servant girl had brought you breakfast every morning. You don’t think you could have reconciled it with your conscience.

These past weeks, Boba has instructed you on the Slave I, clearly and precisely, answering all your questions about the enhancements and modifications with the patience of an angel, although you have not dared to ask any question twice. You have a feeling he values how quickly you learn and how efficiently you can apply the gathered knowledge to your work. The ship fascinates you to no end, you have memorised all the blueprints and info he has left for you, intrigued by the design and the special modifications someone – Boba? – has made to the ship.

Before he left, Boba told you to take a closer look at the instructions for the minelayer magazines, the improvement of which will be the first big task he entrusts you with without watching over you. You think you have gained his trust, as far as that is possible with a man like Boba Fett.

Every time you have done something particularly tricky or remembered a complex detail without having to be asked for it, you were rewarded with mumbled variations of „good girl“, a phrase that has seared itself into your brain in Boba's voice forever. You think of how good he sounds saying those words almost every night when you lay in your bed and try to relieve some of the tension that working next to him seems to inevitably cause in you.

Tonight, you are sharing a bottle of spotchka with Fennec and telling some of your favourite stories about Fortuna and his rather disastrous rule.

"…and then he fucking stepped on his lekku,“ you finish your sentence, snorting as Fennec quietly chuckles next to you. "Gods, I am so glad that stupid kriffing man is gone.“

Fennec’s face tightens a little, the smile vanishing as quickly as it came.

"It was necessary.“

"I know. I’m glad Boba is here. He’s doing well, from what I’ve gathered... and I am grateful to him for freeing the slaves of the palace. I knew many of them. No one deserves this fate.“

Fennec nods sharply at your words and pours another glass. She does not enquire how exactly you got to know the enslaved, and you are grateful for it.

You are a little more drunk than you planned on being when the elevator doors to your apartment slide open, leaving Fennec in there to ride up the remaining two levels to her own apartment alone. You let yourself flop down on the couch in the reception area; you don’t think you could make it to the bed, it seems... so far away. You lazily pull your clothes off your body, the Tatooine air too warm even at night, and let out a sigh.

What a life you get to lead. This was the best decision you have ever made. You have made a friend, you are being paid well too do a job you adore, your boss is insanely hot… Hold up. Once again, your mind has wandered where it should not have. He may seem nice, except maybe a little grumpy. But this is still Boba Fett, the most feared bounty hunter in the entire galaxy. He got his reputation for a reason. You know the stories, and you have gathered that at least some of them are true. Maybe even most of them.

And still. When his hand brushes your thigh as he shows you something on the ship, when you feel his gaze lingering on you through the helmet he has never taken off in front of you, when you kneel on the floor tinkering away while he towers over you, making sure you don’t damage his ship… He makes you nervous, yes. But you also feel… other things in his presence. Things you should not be thinking about. He distracts you, and he can never know that he does. Yet the temptation to think of him at night, alone in your bed, has never left you alone. You initially thought it was just your body, stupidly confusing fear with attraction, but it has been way too long to deny that Boba makes you feel giddy. Excited. He feels like something forbidden, like something you know you should not desire and you still do. You think about the strong hands he has revealed to you once when helping you with some wiring, scarred and tan, with thick fingers and surprisingly neat nails. You think about these hands a lot at night, trying to imagine it is them touching you instead of your own small, delicate ones.

Your own thoughts have you worked up even now as you lay on the soft cushions of the couch, and you slide your hand between your thighs to find you are already so much wetter than you should be. Fuck. Ugh. Well, you might as well do something about it.

You slide two fingers against your clit, circling them and trying to find the right pressure while your other hand comes up to cup your tits, pushing them together, gently rubbing one thumb over your hardened nipple until the sensation shoots straight through you. Once you find a rhythm, you let your legs fall open wider to grant yourself easier access. Your wandering thoughts return to Boba, to the way he sits on his throne, relaxed but still so poised, his legs spread wide. You want to kneel between his thighs, hear him call you his good girl while you suck him off. That thought makes your back arch. You press your fingers down a little harder, go a little faster, closing your eyes and imagining it’s his fingers dipping inside you, filling you.

Your breaths come faster, you moan out his name as you push yourself towards the edge, when suddenly, a bell chimes somewhere in the apartment. But you are too far gone to react in time, the crest of your orgasm hitting you with force as you cry out Boba’s name, just as the elevator doors slide open.

Next chapter

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Mando'a translations Veman'alor - True/Rightful ruler

As we go along, I will post all my Mando'a translations for each chapter here, just so you know if you want to know what something means, you can always scroll down here. Though let's be honest it'll mostly just be dirty talk.

Update [Apr.'22]: In fact, as the chapters progress, some quite interesting and informative conversations will be held in Mando'a. So if you ever want to check... You know where to find what I came up with.

[galacticgraffiti]

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Veman'alor (21) ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

!!! NSFW/18+ !!!

Rating: Explicit (slightly, so just to be sure) Wordcount: 7.3k CW: miscommunications, anger and unjustified anger, insults, communicating about feelings, dry humping (just the tiniest bit)

A/N: Thank you so much to Nat @book-of-baba-fett for beta'ing this, I appreciate you more than words can say!! Your input it truly invaluable ❥

Series Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ Main Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ Taglist Signup

🙤 · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · 🙦

Chapter 21 - Journeys, Unveilings

Time stops. Space stops. The ship keeps travelling, but your mind is left behind, left back in your warm bedroom on Tatooine where Boba’s voice resounds.

Do you accept?

And suddenly, other memories push to the forefront of your mind – memories from last night and this morning, pieces that slot into place before you ever knew they were misplaced to begin with.

We have so much to plan when you return, alor’ika.

Djarin wouldn’t touch you without my permission, especially not now.

Ni nay’lise parer’kay mhi me’dinui an.

That sentence… it does not mean ‘I can’t wait until you return’, you just assumed that. No, dinuir has another meaning, one you forgot entirely in the languid haze of the moment. You remember Intayc teaching you the word when she shared her food with you after you got punished for disobedience and your rations were taken from you. Dinuir, you hear her voice say, her soft accent so different from Boba’s. To give, to take care of each other… to share.

Then, her laughter when you repeated the word, the consonants heavy on your tongue.

Just never use it with a stranger. It’s also part of our marriage vows. Wouldn’t want to promise yourself to someone just because they shared their bread with you.

It’s too much, it’s all too much and you don’t know what to do. You want Boba, his strong presence next to you, his arms wrapped around you in comfort, his steady breath beneath your cheek. You want Boba there so you can hug him and tell him how stupid he was for thinking you knew what this meant, and then kiss him and tell him yes, of course you will marry him.

But Boba is not here, only Din, and Din’s helmet has not moved in a few minutes while you looked at him with empty eyes, trying to process what he just revealed to you. You want Boba’s face looking at you, telling you these words, telling you what it means. You want to watch his reaction as the realisation sinks in, you want to see the joy in his eyes when you accept – really and truly accept.

Instead you get Din and his motionless visor, his perfectly shiny armour that tells you nothing, and is not what you want to see at all. He could still be staring at you, but you don’t know for sure, and that thought is what tips you over the edge, your confusion turning into biting anger.

“Stop looking at me like that!” you shout. “You don’t get to-“

“You don’t even know how I’m looking at you,” Din says, and his voice is full of sorrow and heartache. Usually, that would be enough to stop you in your tracks, to reconsider. But not right now. You are furious, furious that this moment of shared joy has been taken away from you, however unwittingly, by Din. You know it’s not fair – you asked and he answered your question, but right now, the rage is seething and red-hot, and you are boiling over like a pot of caf left on the stove for too long, bitter and burned.

“Well, that’s not my fault, is it?” The words are venomous and ugly, but you can’t stop yourself. He is watching you in your most vulnerable moment, staring at you from behind that blank visor of his while you try to process what happened. You should be happy- overjoyed- floating in bliss. But instead, anger overshadows everything else. Anger at Boba for assuming you knew what it all meant without ever really talking to you. Anger at yourself for not figuring it out earlier, for not asking and letting this happen. Anger at Din for revealing that fatal misunderstanding, for feeling so unreachable even as he stands right next to you and for looking the same as he always does. You need comfort and Boba is not here to give it to you. Din- Din is right here, but he might as well be back on Tatooine, with the way his helmet feels like a whole galaxy between you. It’s not his fault, you know it’s not, but anger makes you do stupid and ugly things, things you already know you’ll regret. Right now, though, you can not bring yourself to care.

“You and that stupid helmet of yours. Like you could ever know what it feels like to be watched, day in, day out, by you behind this- this horrible neverchanging façade! Like you could ever know what it feels like to show emotions like a fucking human being.”

You push against his chest and Din stumbles back, taken by surprise at your outburst of rage. You stare at him, tears filling your eyes, and you wonder if he even felt it at all.

“Stop that,” he says softly, but you grit your teeth and step forward, pushing against his beskar-clad chest again. This time though, he catches your hands and holds them, so gently as if you were made of glass. His calm reaction in the face of your anger only enrages you more.

“IT’S NOT FAIR,” you cry out. “It’s not fair what you took away from me with these words. It’s not fair that you claimed this moment for yourself; it should have been mine, should have been Boba’s and mine. And now I have to feel all these things while you just stand there- you- you don’t get to look like that after telling me something like that, you don’t get to look like you always do. You don’t get to hide behind that damned helmet of yours, you fucking- hut’uun!”

Din’s hand tightens around your wrists for just a second before he lets you go. You expect him to say something, to scream back at you or push you away, but he just… turns around and walks away. Climbs down the ladder and leaves you standing there, alone, lost and confused, and already regretting every word you said.

“Hut’uun,” Intayc says. “That’s our worst insult. Don’t ever use it with another Mandalorian unless you really, really hate that mudscuffer. It’s… it means coward.”

“Coward is not so bad,” you grin. “I’ve been called worse.”

“It is for us,” she says quietly. “We are warriors, love. Being a coward – leaving your brothers and sisters to die to save yourself, not helping others in times of need, throwing down your weapons in the face of adversity instead of fighting – it is the worst thing you can do. If you do that, you are not… then you are no Mandalorian.”

The pain in your chest becomes overwhelming as the memory hits you. You called Din the worst possible insult you could have chosen. Him, who has never done anything bad to you, him who is already so permeated by sadness and loss. He meant to help you and you ripped out his heart and stomped on it. Made him feel bad about the one thing he can control. Din, who is your friend. Din, who you… who you love.

It’s different than the love you have for Boba, so infinitely different. Life without Din could be bearable, although it would hurt, but you knew you would have to let him go from the start, and you were willing to do so. You still are – he will move on, and you, you belong to Boba. Nothing will ever change that. Life without Boba is… unimaginable. Your love for Boba permeates your being, it fills you, nourishes you. It is everything. Your love for Din snuck into your heart – it does not sit as deep, but it’s there all the same.

All you want in this moment is to hear Boba’s voice, to hear him confirm what Din has proposed, to be comforted by him, to get his advice for how to make things right. Right now, though, Boba is not the one you are losing. He knows nothing of this, he thinks – he must think – you know what you agreed to. He is probably already planning the ceremony.

That thought breaks through the confused desperation that sits heavy in your chest and makes it hard to breathe. You are getting married. It is a quick spark of excitement, of pure joy and happiness. You will become Boba’s riduur, truly and officially, and finally really be his. He proposed, and he wants you forever. A smile spreads on your face, only to fade as quickly as it came. As much as you want to let yourself enjoy it and revel in that moment, Boba is not the one you are losing right now. So you can think about this later. But right now, you have to speak with Din and apologise. Right kriffing now, before it is too late, before you break something you can’t fix, if you have not already.

You climb down the ladder, anxiety grabbing at your heart with filthy claws. What if it is already too late? What if you destroyed what you two had with your stupid words? What if you lost him forever, what if-

Your thoughts come to a screeching halt when you see him, standing in the hold with his back turned to you, shoulders hunched over. The defeat in his posture is so obvious that you can’t breathe. Your eyes register all that, but it fades into the background. Because you can see Din’s hair. Curly, dark brown, messy and sticking up in weird places, shining in the dim light of the hull.

“Din,” you say gently, stopping in your tracks and averting your eyes, not knowing if he noticed you coming down, not knowing what to do with yourself. Din without his helmet. It seems unthinkable. “Din, I’m so sorry. I never meant to-“

“You were right,” he rasps. Stars, his voice is so different without the helmet, you almost forgot. You never heard it without some kind of barrier between the two of you, and it buries straight into your heart, so beautiful and rough and laced with a sadness you can never understand. You shatter when Din repeats himself. “You were right.”

“No,” you mutter. “I was right about nothing. I was out of line, way out of line. You didn’t know how much this would shock me. You didn’t mean to take anything away from me, I asked and you answered. You thought I knew. It’s not… it’s not your fault there was a misunderstanding, that is between me and Boba. You only meant to help, I know that, I knew it up there too, but I was… I was so angry that I didn’t care. I never meant to go off on you like that, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you, but I know I did. It’s… it’s unforgivable. My anger was never right, never justified-”

“That’s not what I mean,” he whispers, voice thick with unshed tears. “I mean, you were right – I am a coward.”

Your heart shatters into a million pieces, and you stretch out your hands without thinking – two, three quick steps until you can wrap your arms around his middle and bury your face in the cold hardness of his cuirass. You forbid yourself from looking up, forbid yourself from taking in the way the light catches in his curls. Forbidden.

“You are not a coward, Din Djarin. Words said in anger are rarely true, and in this case, I could not have been further from the truth. I wasn’t thinking, not about anything except that I… wanted to get a reaction out of you. I wanted to make you as angry as I was, so that you’d shout back, just so I would not be alone in my anger anymore. It was selfish, so selfish of me, and I am so sorry.”

“I should not be wearing it in the first place,” Din mumbles. “The damn helmet. I already took it off, I’m no longer… no longer a Mandalorian. No longer a Child of the Watch. I have lost my way. It doesn’t matter if you cover your eyes, none of it matters.”

“Din.” Your voice is muffled by the metal covering his back. “I don’t want the first time I see you without your helmet to be like this. I don’t want it to be born out of anger and spite, but out of love. I want it to be something good, not something that will turn into resentment. I never meant to imply that wearing that helmet makes you a coward. It doesn’t. It’s your choice, and yours alone. Don’t let my stupid words take that away from you.”

Din sighs deeply, his chest heaving under your hands.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” you whisper. “I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” he murmurs. “You were not… not like yourself up there, even though it was your voice speaking. I never thought you would hurt me like that.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“In that moment, you did.”

His words hit harder than any weapon ever could, and you are quiet for a second, while the pain of knowing you hurt him makes your stomach turn.

“Yes,” you finally admit quietly. “In that moment, I did. I don’t know what got into me.”

Din gently unwinds from your embrace. You close your eyes until you hear the hiss of his helmet, and when he speaks again, it is through the vocoder.

“Give me some time.”

“Of course,” you say immediately. “Of course, whatever you need, Din. I am sorry, please- believe me I am, if nothing else.”

A finger hooks under your chin, still bare and rough and warm. Din tilts up your face until you stare into his visor.

“I believe you,” he mumbles. “I just need to sort myself out. I can’t look at you right now.”

And just like that, he is gone, leaving you alone in the hold to clutch your chest, your own cruel words echoing in your head.

***

One entire day passes in silence, Din having shut himself in the bunk while you retreat to the cockpit to watch over the monitors and navigation even though you know you don’t need to. You wish there was something else you could do, anything at all, to either distract yourself or show Din how much you mean your apology. You spend hours scolding yourself for your stupidity, contemplating whether it would be wise to call Boba, whether you should maybe turn back alltogether. You end up doing neither. It does not feel right – this journey is for Din, so you will continue until he tells you to turn back. And if you called Boba… you would probably just yell at him. Stupid oaf, assuming everyone knows his customs and words, assuming you would recognise a Mandalorian proposal although you stem from a culture that is so different. Stupid kriffing man. You love him so much it hurts, the want for him eating through your heart like a laser burn. All you want is to stop the ship, to turn around and let yourself drown in his embrace and his comfort, but you can’t do that – you can’t do that to Din. So you try to keep yourself busy.

Over the course of the day, you make some food and leave bowls of it at Din’s door. The next time you pass, the bowls are always gone. A small sliver of hope blooms in your chest. It’s not that he even seemed angry before, just… hurt. Hurt so deeply it cuts your own heart to pieces, but this is not about you. You made this mess, and now all you can do is hope that Din forgives you for it. Eventually, you lay down in the cockpit to rest when your body tells you to. Hyperspace is a timeless limbo, one that for now is filled with quiet pain and useless regret. Your stuff is in the cabin with Din, but you can’t bring yourself to disturb him for something as mundane as that, so you sleep in the same clothes you have worn all day.

You feel even worse when you wake up, having spent the night tossing and turning, your own words haunting you. After forcing down some breakfast and leaving a serving at Din’s door, you climb down into the service tunnel to look at… something. You know everything is perfectly fine; the ship is as good as new, but looking at the familiar tech gives you a welcome distraction. Still, the day stretches on for forever without a sound from Din. Your chrono tells you it is late in the afternoon when you head back to the cockpit. You read a shitty novel on your holopad, hoping it will tire you out, but the words blur before your eyes and you reread the same paragraph seven times without noticing.

Finally, you give up and lay down in the pilot’s seat again. You tilt it all the way back and are already drifting off to sleep when the door slides open with a hiss. You’ve never sat up so fast in your entire life.

“Din,” you breathe, guarding yourself for what is coming.

“Can we talk?” he asks, his voice impossibly gentle in the face of the cruelty you have shown him only a day ago.

“Yes, of course. Whatever you want,” you answer quickly. He sighs and sits down in the co-pilot’s chair, visor fixed on the endless tunnel of stars that reflects in his helmet. It would be mesmerisingly beautiful if not for the tension that seeps from him like deep dark molasses, filling the room with melancholy despair that makes it hard to breathe.

“I can’t wear the helmet any longer,” he says without looking at you and you pause, startled by his words. You thought he would want to talk about your fight, but it seems there is something more pressing on his mind.

“Why?” you ask, curious and anxious to hear if this is what he has been thinking about all this time, shut off in the little cabin.

“Because I am the Mand’alor. I need to represent my people. All of my people.”

“I thought the armour was part of your culture?” You cock your head. You have not met many Mandalorians, and the ones you do know – well, Intayc was not exactly a free woman when you served together, and Boba… Boba is unconventional in many senses of the word.

“It is,” Din shrugs. “Just… not as radically as I once believed. I can’t risk alienating my people because they think I’m a fanatic.”

“So…” you try to process this shift in dynamic and topic. You expected to talk about the fight, not to have Din explain the intricacies of Mandalorian rule to you, even though you see how your words may have something to do with that. You meant it when you said you were here for whatever he needed, though, so you try and find the right words. “So, not taking the helmet off is a radical decision? Something that could lead people to believe you’re a fanatic?”

“It is.” Din’s shoulders sink. You want to reach out your hand and touch him, but you are not sure you are allowed to quite yet - the pain is still too fresh, too deep. “I did not know that until recently. The covert where I was raised… it was the only way there, the only way of life. It was The Way. But now – how could I lead a people that does not trust me, how could they trust me if they have never seen my face? They’ll think I am a zealot.”

“I have never seen your face and I trust you,” you remind him gently. “Don’t pressure yourself if it makes you uncomfortable. I am sure your people will love you. How could they not? You are so wonderful, Din.”

“But I never wanted this in the first place,” he sighs. Gently, you stretch out your hand, letting it rest on your knee with your palm faced up so Din knows you are here if he wants you. His fingers twitch, but he does not move closer to you. The distance hurts, though you understand it. What hurts even more is knowing it is your own fault that it is there at all. It pains you to know it was your own words that hurt him like this, that ripped through the trust you had – and that you can hopefully salvage.

“And do you still not want it?” you ask softly.

“I have… accepted that this is my fate. I have accepted that this is the path I was destined to walk. I will always choose the way of the Mandalore, as long as I am able.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” you scold him, careful to keep your voice gentle. “If you believe in destiny, that is your choice. If you believe in… I don’t know, the Force, or the Father, Daughter and Son, that is your choice. If you think you were destined to come to this point, that may well be true for you.” You ponder for a while longer. Din’s fingers stretch out ever so gently, until they are almost touching yours, but not quite. Careful to stay still and let Din decide when he wants to touch you, you continue.

“But, Din- you said you accepted this; not that you wanted it. Consider what you want. You. Not anyone else. Not the people of Mandalore, not your old Clan, not Boba or me. Just you. Don’t accept this as your destiny just because you think you cannot change it.”

There is a pause when Din’s head tilts, and you swear you can feel his eyes burning into you. Soft lips. Brown curls. Details of him that are seared into your mind forever. You distantly wonder what colour his eyes are.

“I- I am not giving up, if that is what you think,” he says eventually. “I am not… resigned. But I have been running away from this responsibility for far too long. I have to face it, and I have to do it soon, because it will become more and more impossible the longer I stay on Tatooine with Boba… and with you.”

Your heart aches. He is so full of sorrow, of a sadness that feels as heavy as the weight of an entire world – and in a way, you guess it is. Din lost a son and gained a world he never wanted, the rule of a people that must be harder to unite than you can imagine. Sometimes you cannot grasp how he even stands upright. He has gone through so much, and now you have hurt him again when all you want to do is console him and make it better.

“Do you believe taking off your helmet is part of accepting that responsibility?”

“I do,” Din mumbles. “I can’t continue – I shouldn’t continue – to follow the… close-minded Creed of my clan… my former clan.”

“Your Creed is part of the Creed of all Mandalorians, is it not?” you interrupt him softly. “Just because the group of people that follows those specific rules is small, does not make them wrong or invalid. Don’t let anyone pressure you into thinking any different.”

“That’s the thing, though,” Din mutters. “If I followed my Creed, I would not be wearing this armour anymore. I could never have put my helmet back on after I showed my face to my son. I don’t wear it because I believe in the Creed anymore. I wear it out of habit – out of fear.”

“Oh, Din,” you mumble, sadness lacing your voice. Finally, his fingers slide into yours, the rough leather of his glove tracing your palm. “I am so sorry. What I said yesterday- it must have felt like I was pouring vinegar into an open wound. I never meant to be so cruel – to hurt you so badly. All I ever want to do is make you feel good, to help you. None of what happened is your fault, I need you to know that.”

“I do,” he answers. “I know that and… I can almost forgive you. What you said – it hurt. I trusted you, and so the wounds those words dealt go deeper than anything else could ever have. I still trust you, but it feels… different, although I can’t explain how. You made me think, though. And I think that was necessary. The pain, you could have spared me. But not the sentiment, and that’s what hurt the most.”

“What did you think about? Being Mand’alor?”

“Amongst other things… You know I am going to leave once I find a ship. That was always the plan. I already stayed so much longer than I ever planned to, and now with the wedding… I will stay until it is done. No longer. I couldn’t bear it.”

You grab his hand tighter, your heart beating faster at the mention of the wedding. You are getting married. You push the thought to the side, just for now. You need to focus on Din, he deserves your full attention. The joy will come later, when you have righted your wrongs.

“Let’s not,” you say gently. “Not tonight. We’ll talk about this when we get back.”

Din nods sharply.

“I have decided something else,” he says then, and your heartrate picks up again. These past few days have been a lot and you don’t know how much more you can take.

“…yes?” you answer tentatively. Din’s fingers squeeze yours.

“Nothing bad, mesh’la. I won’t say that all is forgiven for earlier, but we can move on from it.” His voice gets softer. “I could not stand to lose you even a second before I have to.”

You open your mouth to answer, but now sound comes out. You knew this was a bad idea from the start, you knew it, and still you did it. You invited him to your bed, you convinced Boba that it would be alright. And the two of you will be, you and Boba, just as you thought. You were meant for each other, but in your stupid selfishness you did not think it would hurt Din as much it seems to.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, but he cuts you off.

“Like you said. Another time. After Kuat, we will talk. You and Boba and I. Not now,” his voice is gruff, but you can feel the underlying strain of sorrow that runs through it. To distract him – and yourself – you return to the topic at hand, even though your heart is beating in your throat when you ask the question.

“What else have you decided, then?”

Din is quiet for a second, then he sits up straighter.

“I want to show you my face, sweet girl.”

Your breath stops while your heart races on, every beat a shattering drum inside your chest. The world spins like there is no air left in the room. He wants to-

“Your face?” you ask, your voice breaking at the second syllable. “Are you sure?”

“I have decided.” Din shrugs as if this is no big deal. “I want to show my face to my people once I get to Manda’yaim. I will need to practice. Boba has already seen me. You seem like a good choice to show myself to.”

“After all I have put you through? Din, you should hate me.” You feel so small, so insignificant and stupid thinking about his forgiveness in the face of your cruelty. This man is so much better than the galaxy deserves.

“I could never hate you,” Din whispers. Your throat closes up with tears but you swallow them down before they spill.

“Thank you,” you say, and you mean it so deeply. “I have… there are no words to express how much that means to me, Din.”

He nods, then removes his hand from yours to pull at his helmet. Shock crackles through you.

“Wait, you meant like- right now?”

He stops, head cocking in question.

“Yes.”

“Can you- can I… I have to speak to Boba first. I want to ask him something.”

“This is not a weird Mandalorian ritual I am trying to rope you into,” Din grumbles and you chuckle incredulously.

“Din Djarin, was that a joke?”

“Maybe.” You can hear his grin under his helmet and your heart leaps. Not all is lost. You giggle, feeling a million times lighter than you were a few moments ago.

“Still, this is about something else. I’ll just be a couple minutes,” you say and Din nods, leaning back in his chair. You get up and slide down the ladder into the hold, trying to find some privacy. You can’t call Boba – you know you would not be able to contain yourself. If you call him; if you hear Boba’s voice, you know you will turn the ship around without a second thought just to feel his arms wrapped around you and his soft lips on yours. And you will never leave him again. So, you type a quick message into your comm.

Din says he wants to show me his face. I have to know if you would be okay with me kissing him. Answer genuinely, don’t hold back for my sake. I love you, Boba.

You impatiently pace up and down waiting for an answer, hoping Boba will read it in time. Anxiousness grows, until finally, the comm pings with a response.

Big step for him. Feel like that deserves a reward – just don’t get carried away. Can’t wait to have you back with me, alor’ika. Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum.

Seeing these words written out rushes through you like a particularly thorough spice high. I love you. This is so much more than you ever thought you could get, so much more than you thought Boba would be able to give. And he sounds honest. You feel bad that the first thing you ask for after his proposal is to kiss another man, but… you know you will want to once Din takes off his helmet. And telling Boba after the fact would be so much worse than asking for permission now.

Thank you, my love, you type. I can’t wait to come home to you. I’m yours, Boba, now and forever.

You don’t really expect an answer, but your comm pings again within seconds, just as you grab the first step of the ladder. You press the button to see the message.

I know.

You grin to yourself. Cocky bastard. You will never get enough of him.

Din is waiting for you when you peek up at him before climbing out and sitting in the pilot’s chair again, sideways, so your legs are slotted between his thick, armour-clad thighs.

“I’m ready.” You smile at him in the most reassuring manner you can muster, even though your heart is beating in your throat and you can barely think. “Are you ready, Din? Please… just remember you don’t need to do this. I won’t be disappointed if you decide you want to wait, or not take it off at all.”

“No.” His voice shakes a little, but the sentiment is strong all the same. “No, I have to. I want to.”

“Okay,” you say quietly. His hands tremble when they move up to his helmet, and then he stops, palms pressed flat against the beskar.

“Do you want to help me?” he asks softly and your heart melts. “Just like we did that one time way back on Tatooine. Put your hands over mine, sweet girl.”

His fingers are strong and rough and warm underneath your palms, but you almost don’t notice that, too anxious because this is really happening, you are going to see Din’s face. With every inch that is revealed, your heart beats faster. You suppress the urge to close your eyes; it feels so forbidden to see him like this – to see him at all. Lifting up his helmet together, his thick fingers gripping onto his helmet like a vice, Din slowly unveils himself to you. His lips, plush and rosy, but pressed together like he is trying to hold back a scream. His nose, hooked and a little crooked but so beautiful that all you want to do is lean forward and place the most gentle kiss on it. Finally, his eyes – warm and brown and… scared. Brown eyes. He looks so scared it breaks your heart.

You are looking at Din for the first time, and that is all you can think – that he looks scared. Uncomfortable, worried. He regards you with a steady gaze, but there is something in his eyes that tells you that underneath this calm surface a storm rages; that in this moment, he wants nothing more than to put his helmet back on and leave and hide.

“Oh Din, you are beautiful.” You say the first thing that comes to your mind, barely functional from the emotional rollercoaster of the day, overwhelmed by this revelation. Red tints his cheek and his face relaxes ever so slightly before he looks away.

“Can I just… look at you?” you ask gently. Din stares at you, brow furrowed.

“You are looking at me.”

“I mean, for longer. I don’t… I can feel how uncomfortable you are. If this is too much for one day, if you want to put your helmet back on and leave, that is fine. This is so much more than I ever thought I would get. I cannot imagine the courage it must have taken you to do this, Din.”

He scoffs, but does not say anything, his lip trembling slightly.

“I’ll look away and never mention it again if you want me to,” you say softly.

“No,” Din interrupts you hastily. “No, if I do that… I’ll never take it off again.”

“That would also be fine,” you try to reassure him, but he shakes his head, eyes flicking frantically from you to hyperspace and back.

“I want to do this,” he says, and his voice is a little stronger then. “I have been wanting to do this. So… look. Just- don’t talk?”

“Okay,” you whisper. Din nods – he is so expressive, you think. You can’t stop staring at the little ways his face shifts, at the subtle expressions in his eyes, the crinkles around his lips, the rise and fall of his brow. You wonder if he knows how telling his face is. Has he ever thought about it?

Din leans back and closes his eyes like he can forget you are looking at him if he simply doesn’t look back. You study his face – on the one hand you want to hold back, turn away and leave him. But Din said he wanted this – he needed this to practice. And so you let yourself look at him. He is a bit older than you expected – not lined by the years quite like Boba is, but older than his frame betrays. Every wrinkle tells the story of the expressive face that has been hidden underneath the helmet for decades now, and though it is not your place to judge, you find that you are happy he lets you see him, happy he has chosen to unveil his face to you.

Din is beautiful in an unusual way, asymmetrical and full of character, a face that can be sweet and gentle just as well as hard and merciless. Your heart flutters as you stare at him, and you gently reach out your hand to press it to his cheek. Din’s eyes flutter open. The heat in them takes you by surprise – deep lust so unbridled and honest that you can already feel slick gather between your legs. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but it turns into a breathless groan when you run your fingers along his cheek, trailing the line of his salt and pepper beard. Your thumb fits perfectly into the tiny bald spot on his jaw, and you want to ask about it – is it a scar? Was it always there? You look at him, certain that the desire in your own eyes is just as prominent as it is in his when you lean forward and kiss the spot where your thumb rested seconds ago. Din moans, a sound so broken and rough, desperation dripping from his voice in frantic shades of red. You want to hear it again.

You nudge him with your nose, his hands suddenly around you and pulling you into him until you scramble onto his lap, your lips latching onto his jaw. Din’s breath is so loud, his eyes so shamelessly full of desire, his helmet forgotten on the control panel as you let yourself explore him with your hands and mouth, worshipping each wrinkle, each imperfection and expanse of skin you can reach. He is so responsive, each of your touches wringing more desperate sounds from him. His hands roam over your back, stopping at the swell of your ass, but you grind down against him, impatiently, hungrily, and Din moans, finger slipping under your cheeks to knead the flesh.

“Dank ferrik, cyar’ika, gar jat’ne- Copaani isirir’gar.”

You whimper into him when his lips finally meet yours, a desperate crash with too much teeth, but neither of you cares. He tastes better than you remember from that night way back on Tatooine, and his mouth is hungry, his tongue slipping into your mouth as if he could devour you whole. You let yourself be swallowed up by his lust, meeting him with equal fervour. It’s good, so good that you almost forget the promise you made to Boba. Just don’t get carried away. Boba.

“Stop,” you pant, and that single word requires all the discipline you have. “Din, stop.”

He immediately pulls back, his hands letting go of your waist even as you can feel his cock pressing against your core and you want to continue so bad, but you know you can’t. If you don’t stop yourself now, you are crossing a line you won’t be able to come back from. It would be better to climb off of Din, better to calm down, but you can’t bring yourself to, not quite yet. Just a moment longer, you’ll give yourself just a minute more to feel him against you as you talk this through.

“You alright, sweet girl?” Din asks, his voice impossibly soft. Your eyes are glued to the way his lips move when he speaks, plush and rosy and swollen from your kisses. It’s hard to peel away from him, so unbelievably hard, but you made a promise and you will never break it.

“I’m fine,” you mumble, your voice still rough with unsatisfied desire. “I’m… too good. You feel too good, if I didn’t stop myself now, I never would have and it’s not fair. I promised Boba we wouldn’t-“

“I know,” Din sighs and leans back, his head hitting the headrest with a dull thud. “I know, we can’t- it was probably smart, I don’t think I could have- your lips and your- fuck.”

“Hmm.”

You sit like this for a while; Din leaned back with his legs spread wide, you straddling him with your hands resting loosely on his belly as you urge your hips to stay still, to not chase the friction, to not grind against him. Din’s cheeks are rosy, his lips swollen, and he looks so endearing – the dynamic with him so different than it is with Boba, and the power you hold is intoxicating.

“You could call Boba,” Din finally suggests quietly. “Ask him if he’d- if we holocalled and he could watch-“

“No.” Your answer is quick, too quick, and you can see the hurt in Din’s eyes. You can see the hurt in Din’s eyes. It’s so new, reading him like this. You are used to small gestures, tilts of his helmet, changes in his posture. Not this open book that is his face, where every motion is written clear as day. It rips your heart clean out, and you hurry to explain. “No, Din, it’s not- it’s not because I don’t want to, believe me, I do. Gods, fuck, I do. I want to look at you when you fuck me-“

“Osik- stop talking like that, please.” He sounds almost pained, fingers flexing just for a second before he lets you go again like he has burned himself.

“I’m sorry.” You take a deep breath. “Sorry. I just- if I call him, I know I’ll yell at him for not proposing in Basic and I’ll cry. And I’ll probably turn the ship around before we reach Kuat because… I miss him, Din. I miss him so much it hurts and I’m his- truly his and I…”

“Say it,” Din murmurs gently when you trail off, even though his eyes tell you he doesn’t want to hear it. You already hurt him once and you know you will have to do it all over again. Din takes your hand in his, gently, his own fingers interlacing with yours as he speaks. “Say it, sweet girl. Tell me the truth.”

“I belong with Boba and I don’t want anyo- anything else.”

Your voice is steadier than you thought it would be, even though it breaks before you can finish. Anyone. You almost said anyone, but that would have been so much worse, and it’s not true, not entirely. You want Din. But you don’t needhim, not like you do Boba, you don’t love Din the way he deserves to be loved, the way he wants to be loved. You can’t be that for him and it would not be fair to pretend otherwise, even though it breaks your heart with the way he looks at you.

“I know,” he sighs eventually, gently tugging at your leg until you climb off of him. He looks… defeated. There is no other way to put it, and you want to ask him how you can make it better although you already know you can’t. A moment passes, each of you staring blankly into space, your hands still interlaced – a small patch of comfort in an unforgiving galaxy.

You are ripped from your trance when the alarm beeps and the monitor in front of you informs you that you will be dropping out of hyperspace in ten minutes. Din pulls his hand from yours and gets up while you try to collect yourself. Quickly, you go through the landing cycle in your head, trying to gather your thoughts before the drop happens. Din picks up his helmet and puts it back on, and it looks like nothing has ever changed. You can’t help the tiny sliver of pride that blooms in your heart – Everything has changed. You know what he looks like under there. Because he decided to show you. Leaving the ship on autopilot, you mumble a quick apology to Din and disappear into the back cabin. You haven’t changed your clothes since you left Tatooine because the cabin was occupied, and usually you would not mind, but just in case someone comes out to greet you, you want to look… well. If not your best, then at least slightly better than your current situation. You slip into flowy trousers and a simple blouse, distractedly nodding to yourself – not too overdressed, but also not crumpled like your travelling clothes. These will do.

Din has strapped into the co-pilot’s seat when you return, stoic as ever; the helmet restored to its natural position. You strap in and confirm the drop out of hyperspace, watching as the world becomes more than a blur of stars once more. Staring at the view in front of you, you try to take it all in. This is it. You have arrived.

Previous Chapter ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Next Chapter

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Mando'a translations

Ni nay’lise parer’kay mhi me’dinui an – I cannot wait until we are married (‘until we share all’) dinuir - share, care for hut'uun - coward (strongest possible Mandalorian insult) ni kar'tayli gar darasuum - I love you ('I know you forever') alor'ika - princess (little leader) mesh'la - beautiful Dank ferrik, cyar’ika, gar jat’ne- Copaani isirir’gar. - Fuck, sweetheart, you're perfect - I want to taste you.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Join my taglist here

I'm so sorry for hurting you. But I suffered writing this, so suffer with me:

@ethenae @adancedivasmom @kakashibabe02 @kik51199 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @asaucecoveredsomething @book-of-baba-fett @mando-amando @gotomarvelgal @muffledgorillaviolence @elegantduckturtle @samanthacookieone @imalovernotahater @littlepossss @thefact0rygirl @corrabell @nomercyforthewarrior @msfett @ashotofspotchka @milf-obi-wan-kenobi @hayley-the-comet @ladykatakuri @deewithani @meabravo @fivesarctrooper @rowansparrow @maygalodon @levi-llama @sithdjarins @spacedothooters @perpetual-fangirl900 @imtryingmybeskar @amcheeken @pinkiemme @echoskama @ittybittykylo @equalityforcats @mssbridgerton @holding-on-to-starwars @nymphwriting @paintballkid711 @kotemorons

special mention to my beloved @the-scandalorian because this contains the Din snippet that you liked ♡

[galacticgraffiti]

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Veman'alor (19) ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

!!! NSFW/18+ !!!

Rating: Explicit Wordcount: 6k CW: public cockwarming (though undetected), teasing, praise, Dom/sub dynamics, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, super soft PiV sex (shocking I know), actual feelings, soft!Boba

This chapter was beta’d by the fantastic @baba-fett , ilysm Nat, your input is truly invaluable and I appreciate you so, so much! ♥️

Series Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ Main Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ Taglist Signup

A/N: I am so sorry the writing break for this story was so damn long, things just somehow kept getting in the way. So, a quick refresher of what last happened: Alor'ika wants to go to Kuat Drive Yards with Din to look at a potential ship. Boba promised her she could take Slave I and he would teach her how to fly it. She went on a shopping trip with Fennec and teased Boba, so he made her sit on his cock before resuming his entertainment of the court.

🙤 · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · 🙦

Chapter 19 - Lessons, Presents

The hours drag on, and you can not make up your mind if you like how slowly the time passes or not. On the one hand, you are getting impatient, trying your best to sit still so Boba will not get annoyed and send you away- or, Maker forbid, any of the guests find out what you are doing. On the other hand though… you feel fucking incredible.

It is a challenge to stay still, you want to shift and grind and feel Boba’s cock drag against your sensitive walls. The urge grows with every passing minute until your whole body is tingling but at the same time oddly numb- all of your nerve endings seem to be concentrating on that sweet spot where he breaches you, where his cock drags against the fluttering walls of your cunt and fills you up. The threat of getting caught adds another layer to the thrill and you can’t decide if you want to be caught even, just a little bit, or if it would embarrass you.

You think you can feel Din’s eyes burning into you, and you wonder if he has turned on the scan for heat signatures; if he can see the way you burn for Boba, cheeks slightly flushed, and your core aching so sweetly.

It’s not like court has a closing time but you catch yourself squinting at the chrono on the wall more and more as time passes, wondering when Boba will send the people away- if he will send them away or if he will keep you right here on his lap, warming his cock until all the people decide themselves that it is time to leave.

Boba’s hands are all over you, never so obvious in their exploration of your body as to betray your lewd actions to the public eye, but enough that your pussy clenches around him and your breathing gets unsteady. A graze of your tits when he gesticulates, a soft caress of your upper arm, fingers gently squeezing your thigh… He is, as always, a pillar of strength and patience. Only the throbbing of his cock inside you tells you how much restraint it must take for him not to either send the guests away or simply let them watch as he bends you over the throne and completely fucking ruins you.

You sigh and lean back to rest your head on his shoulder, his pauldron digging into your cheek, and when Boba readjusts you, his cock grazes that sweet spot inside you. The muscles in your back tense, and you can not suppress the soft moan that escapes you, his visor tilting toward you, and you can just picture the stern look he is giving you for interrupting his conversation with your lack of restraint- although, thankfully, the bounty hunter he is talking to does not seem to have noticed anything.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” you mumble and Boba nods sharply.

“You are right though,” he says as if you had told him something without words- and you did, he can read you like an open book, how impatient you are getting, your hands fidgeting, and now the improper sound you did not manage to hold back. To your schooled ears though, the strain in his voice is audible. “It is getting late and I promised to teach you to fly the ship so you can leave tomorrow. I’ll send the guests away.”

He types a command into his vambrace and servers appear to announce that all guests, should they be wanting to stay longer, must proceed to the bar as the throne room is closing to the public for tonight. There is some muttering and you vaguely wonder if this is how things are usually done, or if Boba is doing this just for you.

“Djarin!” Boba calls out right when the gleaming silver helmet is about to vanish into the servants’ hallway- it seems even Din’s endless patience is wearing thin after a whole day at court mostly spent in silence. Din’s helmet whips around as he halts in the doorway. No one else is left in the room, the doors hissing and red lights indicating they are locked. Your heart is beating in your throat, your overstimulated cunt fluttering around Boba’s cock when Din’s visor fixates on you.

Boba sighs and takes off his helmet to rest his chin on your shoulder in a gentle motion. His lips move against the shell of your ear when he speaks.

“Shall we invite Djarin to watch?”

You shudder.

“Fuck yes,” you whisper, fresh arousal sweeping through your body at the thought of Din watching you just like he did that first night he arrived, at the thought of finally being allowed release from the ever-building tension in your belly that makes you ache so sweetly. Boba leans back and you flinch when his cock drags along the tender walls of your pussy again.

“Djarin, we’ll meet you in the courtyard in a few minutes if you have the time. I’m teaching my girl how to fly the ship, but it would be good if you knew some of the basics as well.”

Wait, what? That’s not-

Din nods and vanishes into the shadows, the door sliding shut and locking behind him. You twist around and stare at Boba, biting your lip to quiet the breathy sounds that fall from your lips at the movement of him inside you.

“That’s- Boba, you asked if I wanted him to watch! I said yes!”

“Watch me teach you how to fly the ship, obviously,” he rumbles indignantly. “What, did you really think I would reward your impatience by fucking you now? In front of him? I don’t think so, alor’ika.”

You pout, and unable to resist the urge, grind your cunt down against his lap, feeling your arousal seep into the short curls at the base of his cock, soaking him the same way you are. A hand wraps around your throat and squeezes just enough you can not move anymore without cutting off your own air supply.

“That’s enough. I told you not to tease me and you disobeyed. You will wait until I decide what you deserve tonight.”

“But Boba-,” you start but he cuts you off with a simple squeeze of his fingers around your throat.

“When it comes to this, it is my decision. Or have you forgotten who you belong to, alor’ika? Whose rules you obey, whose orders you follow?”

“Yours, Sir,” you whisper quietly. Boba rests his hand on your cheek, his thumb gently tracing your cupid’s bow.

“Good girl.”

Boba groans quietly when your pussy clenches around him and pride blooms in your chest- you are making him feel this way, losing his composure, even just slightly. Boba’s voice is rough when he speaks again.

“I know this day has been long, little one. But you were acting like a brat this morning, so you understand why I am punishing you this way, right?”

“Yes Sir.” You cast your eyes down but Boba hooks his finger under your chin and gently pulls you up until you look at him again.

“Good. I don’t want you to spend our last day before you leave in anger and frustration, but I need you to hold on for a little while longer. I want to take my time with you tonight, take you apart until you can’t walk anymore, make you shatter around me so you’ll still feel my cock inside you while you are away with the Mand’alor. You understand that, don’t you?”

You sigh and nod, and Boba presses his mouth to yours, slipping his tongue between your lips until you gasp and let him in. Your head is already swimming, Boba’s cock twitching inside you and it’s almost enough to make you come after being kept on edge for so long. Boba can feel you tense around him though, and he breaks the kiss to look at you sternly.

“No release for you yet, sweet girl. However…” he trails off and licks his lips. “If you want to make yourself useful, why don’t you climb off my cock and get on your knees for me? I’ll go easier on you later if you behave for me now.”

Your heart stumbles at his words and you want to hurry before he changes his mind, but you can barely move, your feet asleep and your legs like jelly. Boba chuckles and gently helps you up, the squelching sound when you lift off his cock making your cheeks burn.

Sinking to your knees, you lean forward to take Boba’s leaking cock into your mouth. You can taste yourself on him, sweet and tangy when you lick up his length. He grips your head, holding you gently as he stares down at you, pupils blown out with lust and burning desire.

You close your lips around him and hollow your cheeks, Boba’s fingers digging into your skull as you start bobbing up and down. His eyes become unfocused but you keep your gaze on him nonetheless- you know how much he likes it when you look at him like that.

“Hmm good girl, sucking my cock like that… I can see how much you get off on this- fuck, you want to just slide your hand between your legs and take care of that aching pussy, don’t you, sweet girl? Feel how much I stretched you out, how you’re gaping from taking my cock- Bet your pretty little pussy is fluttering just from hearing me talk like that…”

Spit drips from your mouth, trickling down your tits, seeping into the fabric of your corset but you can not bring yourself to care about the mess you are making, too engrossed in the feeling of Boba sliding in and out of your mouth, too eager to please him and bring him the release he has denied you.

“That’s it- osik, keep doing that,” he groans when you swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock and gently cup his balls with your hand. His legs are trembling ever so slightly, his hand on your head pulling at you lightly and you take him deeper again, relishing in the sensation of the velvety hardness against your tongue, of his soft praise ringing in your ears. You hum around him and Boba goes rigid, groaning out your name as he comes down your throat, his hand cramping in your hair.

You pull away to swallow his release, finally sitting back and wiping your mouth while he looks down at you with gentle eyes.

“You did so good for me, mesh’la. Such a good girl, and you are learning to swallow it all, I’m so proud of you.”

Your cunt flutters and a smile spreads on your face when Boba pulls you up to hold you tight against his chest.

“Thank you, Boba,” you whisper and when you tilt your face up, he kisses you without hesitation, a sweet slide of his tongue against yours before he starts peppering little kisses all across your face and you burst out into a fit of giggles. Eventually, he releases you from his warm embrace and your heart aches when you think about the fact that you are leaving tomorrow. As much as you fought to go, the thought of actually leaving Boba, even if it is just a few days- a week at most- feels impossible. Boba tugs lightly on your hand.

“Come on. We can’t keep Djarin waiting for too long.”

*****

Din is leaning against the ship when you step into the courtyard, your hand still intertwined with Boba’s. He pushes away from the metal wall without a word and follows you up the ramp.

“Aren’t you gonna ask what took us so long?” Boba teases, an obnoxious challenge in his voice and you elbow him in the side.

“Oh, I know,” Din says nonchalantly. “You weren’t as subtle as you thought you were being. Especially not you, sweet girl. I’d know that face you make anywhere.”

“What face?” you inquire, curious although you are already blushing.

“You mean the face she makes when she’s all filled up? With her eyes glazed over where you can just tell how much she loves feeling her perfect little pussy being split open by my cock? That face?” Boba chimes in, his hand squeezing your ass before he plops down in the pilot’s seat and pulls you onto his lap, your back leaning on his broad chest, your legs hooked over his to keep you from sliding down while the seat is still tilted sideways as long as the Slave remains on the ground. Din stands around a bit aimlessly before laying in the co-pilot’s chair.

“Yeah. That face.” His voice is raspy and it makes you shiver, the tension in your body rising steadily from feeling Boba’s strong body against yours, the memory of his cock inside you still so fresh while Din’s eyes burn into you like he can see right through your – admittedly very scanty – clothing.

“Beautiful when she does it, isn’t it?” Boba teases, making your cheeks burn.

“Hey!” you protest and twist around to poke your finger into his chest- not that it does anything against his cuirass except almost breaking your bone. “Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here.”

“Sorry, sarad’ika,” Din mumbles and you shake your head.

“Apology appreciated but I was actually talking to this one here. He sometimes has a tendency to forget that I like to be included. Don’t you, baby?”

Boba grumbles and squeezes your thigh.

“Keep reminding me that I do and maybe I won’t forget in the future.”

You grin. Not exactly an apology, but you are working on it. So is Boba. And that’s good enough for now.

“I will, old man. I’ll make sure you never forget.”

Din chokes slightly at the obvious challenge in your voice, pushing down the laughter that rises in his chest by coughing in a very apparent cover-up. Your giggle bubbles up right alongside him until Boba’s hand closes around your throat.

“Keep testing me, princess. See where it gets you. You are already one punishment deep; you sure you want to take another?”

The sweet, alluring darkness in his voice makes you shudder and press back against him.

“I’ll take anything you give me, Sir.”

Boba chuckles, his fingers squeezing tighter before he lets go of your throat and places his hands on yours.

“Damn fucking right you will… good girl. For now though, let’s focus on the lessons, shall we? If you get into trouble because I didn’t teach you right, I will never forgive myself.” There is a sudden seriousness to his voice that makes your heart ache. You don’t want to leave him. You do want to leave. But not without him- Gods, you wish he could come with you, even though you understand why he can not.

“We’ll be fine,” you promise quietly and Boba’s arm wraps around your waist to hold you tighter. “I’ll always come back to you, my love, just as you promised you would come back to me.”

His fingers squeeze and you know he understands what you are saying. He is just not ready to say it back in front of someone else. There is a slight pause, the quiet clinking of armour when Din shifts in his seat, the shuffling of feet when Boba pulls his seat up so the control stick rests between your legs. The position feels oddly intimate, and if Din had not been sitting right next to you, you are astoundingly sure this lesson would have escalated into something else very, very quickly. Maybe that is the reason Boba invited him along in the first place.

Boba lists all the protocols before you go through the motions, first with his hands guiding your own, then without actually pressing anything just to practise the right order of buttons and levers. Finally, when you are sure you have internalised all the procedures, Boba lets you actually start the takeoff cycle. His hands still hover over yours, Din’s watchful eyes following your movements. You get it right, except for almost switching two buttons, but you catch yourself in time. It helps that you know the mechanical and electrical layout of the ship so well. It also helps that you were a pilot before you ever became a mechanic. The movements come natural to you, they are as familiar as the taste of the ocean on your tongue when you flew too low way back home, dipping into the waves as you shot through the race courses.

The Slave I is not without its oddities and extravagant mechanisms, and you are glad Boba is there to tell you about all of them- some wires crossconnect in very strange and nonsensical ways, but you don’t dare criticise anything about the ship. It is not yours, you are merely tasked with its upkeep, and your suggestions for improvement are always based on what Boba wants. You may find some of the cycles unnecessarily complicated, but if that is the way he has always done it, if that is the way that is familiar to him, you will not drag it through the mud. As long as it works, there is no need to implement new things he does not want.

The feeling of takeoff is exhilarating- it has been much too long since you have actually flown a ship other than the odd quick testdrive of a podracer, or your speederbike. A starship is a whole other calibre, especially the Slave. When the ground tilts, you slide from your awkward half-lying position on Boba’s torso down into his lap, feeling the ship whirl behind you as it sorts out the new gravity levels.

Steering the ship is not easy but you get the hang of it rather quickly, Boba’s hands right there to steady yours so you never feel unsafe as you shoot through the Tatooine night sky. You leave the atmosphere for a short while, just to see what it’ll feel like and because Boba wants to show Din how the blaster cannons and the other weaponry works. He has taken off his helmet and takes over the co-pilot’s chair while Din stands in the back. His stoic and silent presence is both calming and unnerving somehow- if only because you know the next time you are on the ship you will be alone with him, no Boba to teach and guide you.

You practise shooting with some old wreckage and asteroids, you steering while Boba operates the cannons with Din watching. You work amazingly well together in a way that feels so natural, a connection much deeper than you ever knew it could be. It’s like you know where Boba wants you to turn, you can feel it in the way he shifts, at the side glances he gives you from where he sits, in the way he tenses up. And he knows where you will turn next, what maneuver you will try to dodge the asteroids and metal pieces. It is an exhilarating feeling and you whoop happily when a meteor explodes right in front of your eyes and the galaxy is dipped into glittering stars as you steer right through it, the fiery orbs illuminating Boba’s face in the darkness of space. You lean to the side to press a kiss to Boba’s temple but he quickly turns his head so your lips meet his instead. You giggle into him, your heart happier than it has ever been.

“You’re a natural,” Boba comments, a subtle pride in his voice. “You fly her like you were born for it.”

“Maybe it’s because she’s yours,” you reply thoughtfully. “I learned everything about this ship for you, I know her better than I knew the first speeder I built. She feels like you, so familiar somehow.”

Boba’s eyes go warm and gentle then, and your skin burns when he puts his hand on your thigh.

“Djarin,” he calls softly. “Take over the cannons, I want you to practise before we fly back.” He gets out of the seat and stands behind you, his strong hands resting on your shoulders, gently caressing you, a comforting weight as he watches you pilot his ship.

Din sits back down- working in unison with him proves easy as well- it is not the same wordless connection you have with Boba, but a different kind of bond. For a man of such few words, Din proves to be an amazingly effective communicator, and the two of you get the hang of it in no time. Boba’s hands never leave you, their weight never enough to be distracting but enough to remind you of his presence, enough that you know you will carry this memory of him with you whenever you sit in this pilot’s chair. The ride through the stars feels like an eternity and no time at all. You could stay up here forever, among the empty darkness and just fill the void with your love. But Boba’s hands gently remind you that you have to return home, home with him, home and back to bed where he can hold you and hug you so close to him it feels like your body is melting into his.

The landing cycle proves to be much more complicated than take-off, but you manage under Boba’s surprisingly patient guidance. He makes you repeat the cycles and promise to comm him if you are not sure about anything at all. Din has taken the backseat again, a silent companion as you have always known him to be, watching you and Boba interact in a silence that somehow feels… content.

You finally land the ship in the courtyard and lower the ramp. Boba takes your hand in his before you are even out of the cockpit, pulling you along with him while Din hangs back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, sarad’ika,” he calls and you turn back to wave to him before you step into the elevator. Instead of following you and Boba, Din turns toward the throne room and you distantly wonder where he is going, but then Boba’s hands pull you out of the elevator and push you up against the wall of your apartment and all thoughts are forgotten when his hungry mouth meets yours.

“You looked so good piloting my ship,” he murmurs into your mouth and you moan when you feel his thick thigh slotting between your legs, bringing delicious friction to your aching core. “I was hard the whole fucking time even though you’d just sucked me off.”

“Gods, Boba,” you whimper. His hands slide up to your tits, impatiently tugging down your corset until your breasts spill over the top. Boba’s lips latch onto them, and the contact of his hot mouth with your chilly skin makes your brain short-circuit. The denied pleasure of the evening still sits deep in your bones- it was not edging, not in the traditional sense, not in the sense Boba had used as a punishment before. It was… keeping you on a simmer. Never getting you close enough but keeping the flame lit just so. You can still taste him in your mouth, feel the velvet of his cock slide against your tongue if you think really hard, feel his fingers pressing into your thigh as you steer his ship.

“You did so well, such a talented little pilot. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” you moan, your eyes slipping closed when he moves his leg to grind against your core, his lips wrapped around your nipple.

“Maybe I’ll forget about the punishment. Having you sit on my cock and be patient was enough, I think. Are you going to forget your place again or have you learned your lesson, alor’ika?”

“No, no I won’t forget again, Sir,” you cry out and Boba lifts you up, his mouth pressing to yours as he carries you over to the bedroom.

“Good girl. Now… let’s make sure your pussy doesn’t forget what I feel like while you are gone.”

Boba places you on the bed, so much gentler than you expected him to, with so much care as though he is afraid he’ll break you if his touch is too harsh. You sit up on your elbows to look up at him expectantly and are taken aback by the expression on his face. He looks so… lost. So unsure, all the cockiness from just a minute ago gone from his face.

“Hey,” you say gently and stretch out your hand to take his. “Hey, what’s the matter, baby? You okay?”

Boba stands there, his arms hanging awkwardly by his side and you almost get up to wrap yourself around him, but just then he drops to his knees before you and buries his face against your belly.

“I don’t want you to go.” His voice is muffled and quiet, so different from the collected confidence you are used to. Boba sounds… like a little kid that is scared of being left all alone in the world. Your heart aches, because you can feel he is not saying this with any malice- he is not mad you are leaving, nor does he want to convince you to stay. He just wants to voice his feelings. Your eyes well up with tears, this is so much more than you ever thought you could have with him. You scoot down the bed a little until his arms rest on your thighs, his face pressed into your chest while his hands cling onto your waist. Gently, you wrap your arms around him and rub soothing circles over his broad back.

“I know, baby. I don’t want to leave you. I know I said I wanted to go and… I still do. I really want to go. But leaving you here- Maker, I didn’t think it would hurt so much.” You take a deep breath and push down the tears. “You know I will come back to you, right? You know that. I’ll come back as quickly as I can, nothing bad is going to happen to me- to us. I have Din with me and you are here, in the palace, with Fennec as a watchful pair of eyes. We’ll only be apart for a few days. I know it’ll feel like an eternity, and I dread being without you more than I can express, my love. But we can’t… we can’t trust that we will always be able to go everywhere together. If we are really going to do this, there may be some instances where I have to travel, or you do. We’ll go together as often as possible, but when it’s not possible, it’s just not. And we have to be okay with that, we have to be-“

A tear rolls down your cheek. Gods, your heart is breaking at the softness in his body, at this ache and the unbearable sadness that he radiates.

“Nothing bad is going to happen to me,” you repeat. Boba raises his face to stare up at you and your breath hitches at the wet shimmer in his eyes.

“That’s exactly what my father said to me before he-“ Boba breaks off and mumbles something in Mando’a you don’t understand.

“Your father?” you ask, trying not to press him too hard, but to show interest. The few times Boba has mentioned his father in the past, you have gathered that their relationship was… complicated. But you have also gathered that Boba adores his father, maybe even idealises him; from the way he treats his ship, from the refusal to change the name to paying exorbitant sums of money for its upkeep. And then that shrine in his rooms…

“Jango.” The word sounds like a curse and a prayer all in one. “That was his name.”

“Do you want to tell me about him?”

Boba sighs and gets up, sitting on the bed next to you and pulling you into his lap.

“Some other time. I promise. But… not tonight. Too many bad memories. And- you shouldn’t have to spend the last night before you go away listening to me ramble on about my father and all the reasons I want to hate him but can’t. It’s not fair to you.”

“Fair to me?” you repeat and look up at him with raised eyebrows. “How is that not fair to me?”

“You are leaving,” Boba points out as though it is obvious. “Tonight should be all about you.”

“I’m leaving, but you are the one that will stay behind,” you mumble. “I will have an exciting journey ahead while you will be the one who is left to wait- just like I was when you went away. I’ll let you guess which part is harder to play.”

Boba stares at you like this idea has not even entered his mind, of being the passive one, the one in wait, the one left behind. He can’t be used to it- how could he be? You don’t mean to pat yourself on the back but you don’t think he’s had anything remotely close to what you two have before now. Neither have you, but you have lived a very different life than he has and so your reactions to this… attachment, they are much different from his. In the beginning he seemed reluctant, almost scared to let this become anything more, and you can feel that now that he has let it happen, he is afraid it will break, afraid you will lose each other.

“Can you just hold me?” you ask quietly and cuddle closer into his chest. “Hold me, kiss me. Let me forget I’ll be away from you tomorrow night. Kiss me until the heat of your mouth lingers on mine even when I’m in hyperspace without you.”

“You say such beautiful things,” Boba murmurs, his thumb stroking your cheek.

“I say them because you- you make me feel… so much. And I say them because they’re all true. I mean every word and I think you need to hear that sometimes.” You lean into his touch and close your eyes.

Boba nuzzles his face into your shoulder and if you didn’t know any better you would think you can see a hint of blushing embarrassment on his cheeks.

“I do,” he mumbles. “I do need to hear it. I can’t believe that you… Let me ask you something, princess. Why does a young, pretty girl like you want to be with an old and broken man like me? What is it about me that you lo- that you like?”

Your skin tingles. Insecurity is never what you expect. Boba always seems so confident, so comfortable in his own skin and around everyone else. These small glimpses of him, these little fractures no one else ever gets to see make you love him even more. The fact that he feels comfortable revealing himself to you so completely speaks louder than anything else he could ever say or do to prove his love to you. You stay silent for a long time, then sit up straighter so you can look him in the eye as you answer.

“I… You are not broken, my love. You have been through so much and you are still alive. That makes you whole. I cannot begin to imagine what you have been through, I know that. But… there is still so much good in you. You are good, you are trying to be. You freed the slaves when you came here, that is the first thing I actively remember about you. I had heard stories of you, of the great exploits of Boba Fett, and I was intrigued. When I came here to apply, and I saw all the slaves were gone, it was decided. I would not have stayed if you had kept them. I remember thinking it a strange act of kindness for a man of your reputation.”

You hesitate. The truth. Hard to understand, harder yet to express. “I- I was attracted to your power at first. The way you moved, how you presented yourself. How you could command a room, command me. I would have done anything you asked from the start because of this… this overwhelming power you hold within you. Now… that is still a part of it. But I genuinely started to like you when I got to know you better. The way you care so deeply about your ship. The small interactions with Din. How you treat me, always with kindness and respect except when I ask you not to. A person like you is rare, Boba. I have never met anyone like you. In… in the beginning, I would have done anything you asked out of desire. Now, I would do it out of love.”

Boba stares at you with wide eyes, nostrils flaring. You can feel his chest expand against yours with deep breaths while the rest of him is still as a statue. His heart beats faster than it usually does, you can feel it thumping against your own breast as you twist to straddle him so you can press closer, his hands around your waist while yours interlace behind his neck.

“Such beautiful things,” he whispers finally and when he leans forward to capture your lips in a kiss, it is the softest he has ever been.

“I mean them,” you whisper back. “I will say them as often as you want to hear them, I will say them until you believe me without the shadow of a doubt. I love you, Boba.”

He sighs into you, deepening the kiss, his tongue licking into your mouth until you are breathless and taste him on yourself even when he finally leans back and starts fiddling with the leather band around his neck, the one that holds that strange skull pendant that looks like the crest on his pauldron. He holds it out and fixates you with serious eyes.

“I want you to have this. Take it with you, and if anything bad happens, if anyone dares to touch you or threaten you, you show this to them and tell them who gave it to you.”

You lean forward to let Boba tie the necklace around your neck, and he hooks his fingers into the leather band to pull you closer again and press his lips to yours.

“Do you accept?” he asks and you are taken aback for a second- you are already wearing it, how could you not accept?

“Of course,” you whisper and close your hand around the cool metal that dangles between your chest and his. “Thank you.”

When you undress, your movements are not driven by frenzied desire, but the intense need to feel his skin against yours, to hold him as close as you possibly can. He hovers above you, slipping his fingers into your pussy while whispering sweet nothings into your ear, sweet nothings that mean everything to you. My princess, can’t wait for you to come back to me, I’m so proud of you, you did so well today, my little pilot steering my ship like she was made for it… You’re gonna come back to me, you’ll be safe, you’ll have Djarin to protect you and you’re gonna come back, I’ll miss you, ner kar’ta… Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum…

When his cock slides into you, dragging along your still-sensitive walls, you gasp, the sweet stretch of him unforgettable and yet surprising every time. You wrap your legs around him and pull him deeper into you, your eyes rolling shut when he starts moving. Boba is unusually gentle, but deep and thorough, filling you up so completely that it doesn’t take long until you start to tremble, your pussy fluttering around him as you gasp into his mouth.

“Come for me, princess,” he murmurs, “Let me feel that perfect pussy clench around me before you go, leave me with the memory of you on my cock, with your eyes on me, staring up at me like that as I fill you up…”

Your orgasm is no overwhelming crash, instead it is languid and sweet, taking over your entire body until you are shaking and trembling and can barely think anymore. Boba keeps shallowly thrusting into your soaked cunt, praise falling from his lips until he curses and you feel him spill himself deep inside you, eyes pressed shut before he collapses onto you.

You giggle when you shove him until he rolls over, pulling you with him until you are laying on top of him, cheek resting on his warm chest, legs caught between his thighs, your belly pressed against his.

“Will you wake me up to say goodbye before you go, alorika?” he asks and you nod, softly kissing a trail up his chest, his throat, until your lips meet his again.

“Of course.” You roll off of him, Boba melting into your backside, one arm under your head as a pillow while the other sneaks up to your breasts and closes around your new pendant. He plants a sweet kiss on the side of your neck and you smile.

“Goodnight, little one,” he whispers, so softly you think you could have dreamed it.

“Goodnight, Boba.”

Previous Chapter ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Next Chapter

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Mando'a translations

alor'ika - princess (little leader) sarad'ika - little flower mesh'la - beautiful ner kar'ta - my heart ni kar'tayli gar darasuum - I love you (I know you forever)

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Join my taglist here

@ethenae @adancedivasmom @kakashibabe02 @asaucecoveredsomething @kik51199 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @mando-amando @gotomarvelgal @muffledgorillaviolence @goddessofsprings @elegantduckturtle @samanthacookieone @imalovernotahater @littlepossss @thefact0rygirl @corrabell @nomercyforthewarrior @msfett @ashotofspotchka @milf-obi-wan-kenobi @hayley-the-comet @ladykatakuri @deewithani @meabravo @fivesarctrooper @rowansparrow @sithdjarins @daore @spacehooters @perpetual-fangirl900 @amcheeken @pinkiemme @echoskama @maygalodon @ittybittykylo @holding-on-to-starwars

[galacticgraffiti]

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Veman'alor (22) ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

!!! NSFW/18+ !!!

Rating: Mature (nothing NSFW but heavy themes) Wordcount: 8.7k CW: general tension, angsty feelings, being apart from Boba is not good for anyone's nerves, Kuat being a general ass, non-gore fightscene, hurt/comfort, reader has a panic attack, one very vague verbal allusion to non-con

A/N: This chapter was rough to write. Huge thanks go out to Nat @book-of-baba-fett for looking this over, ilysm! And a huge, immeasurably love-filled shoutout to my beloved Ro @rowansparrow for your truly invaluable input. You make me so much better in every regard, my darling. I could not have done any of this without you. You are incredible, and I am sending you all the kisses and love in the world ❥

Series Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ Main Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ Taglist Signup

🙤 · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · 🙦

Chapter 22 - Deceptions, Threats

You carefully make your way down the ramp of the Slave I – tripping would be very undignified right now. Din follows closely behind you, the beskar of his armour gleaming in the last light of the sinking sun that shines upon the Yards.

Kuat waits for you personally- although he is far away, you would recognise his stature anywhere – and though you cannot say that surprises you, it still feels strange to be in this position of power. He seems to have someone with him – judging by her build, you would guess she is his bodyguard: a tall, broad-shouldered Zabrak woman with sharp eyes. Her gaze travels up and down your body when you get closer, before she focuses on something behind you – Din, probably, as he is decked out in his full armour and weapons arsenal. She whispers something to Kuat as you approach, and you do not miss the way Kuat’s eyes get wider for a second. You wonder what she said. When you stop in front of the two, Kuat is quick to bow his head.

“Welcome to Kuat Drive Yards, Mistress. We are honoured to welcome you to our humble planet.”

“Thank you, Kuat of Kuat. We are honoured to be here. I thank you for the invitation to your planet,” you answer in a measured voice – not too friendly, but not so cold as to sound disingenuous. Kuat steps closer, reaching out his hand as if to take yours, but stops when his bodyguard lightly puts her hand on his upper arm. He leans away from you as she speaks to him, then nods quietly, apparently trying to appease the Zabrak woman. She steps in front of him ever so slightly, shielding his slender frame with her broader one as she raises her voice.

“Remove your weapons and hand them over.” Kuat’s bodyguard holds out her hand to Din, and you almost snort. Does she really think, aurek, that Din will hand over his weapons, and besh, if he does, that they will all fit in the palm of her hand? Din’s helmet tilts beside you, and you can feel the judgemental stare from underneath it. You think he is about ready to slap this woman into the next rotation, but he just puts his hands on the blasters that hang from his hips.

“I’m a Mandalorian. Weapons are part of my religion.” He shakes his head, a sharp and staccato movement. “I remove them for no one.”

Kuat mutters something under his breath, but you cannot understand what he said. You raise your hands to appease the woman as well as Kuat, whose eyes flick nervously between you and your shiny silver bodyguard.

“Now now, I’m sure that won’t be necessary.” Your words are polite, but the command in them is clear. “He is my bodyguard, Kuat, as she is yours. His job is to make certain no harm comes to me.” Kuat opens his mouth as if to say something, but you simply go on, ignoring him in the politest way possible. “I’m sure no one here wishes to harm me. But if anything should arise, I would feel much better if you left my protector intact.”

The Zabrak woman snarls, but Kuat throws her a warning glance.

“Of course, Mistress. Your… bodyguard can keep his weapons if he so wishes.”

“I wish so,” you emphasise. “And I am sure that Boba would wish it too. After all, he sent me here with a protector for this very reason – to ensure my safety.”

Kuat merely bows his head. You can practically feel the animosity radiating from his bodyguard, but she says nothing more, just steps back behind Kuat, her hands on her hips. Kuat stretches out his hand towards you, and you place your own hand in his, quietly wishing Din would step in and stop you under some pretence. However, Din does not stop you – it is probably for the better, even if you shudder when Kuat’s lips touch your knuckles. Kuat smiles at you when he lets go of your hand, and you have to resist the urge to wipe your hand on your trousers. Where before, his touches felt flirtatious, now they just feel plain uncomfortable and invasive. You wish Boba was here to watch over you. Of course, you feel quite safe with Din, but it is not the same. As much as you hate having to prove that you belong to someone else for Kuat to leave you alone, Boba’s presence would have made everything much easier. You don’t think he would have tried to touch you for even a second if it was Boba standing next to you, and not Din, who means nothing to Kuat. Kuat pulls back and you almost sigh in relief. While Boba’s every touch makes you bloom, makes you feel beautiful and desired under his hands, Kuat just makes you feel… like an object that he desires to have. Like something he can brag about having touched. You press your lips together and bow your head - a gesture of accepting his greeting, yes, but also an opportunity to make sure you have your expression under control and do not show your disgust when Kuat starts speaking again, his eyes lingering on your breasts, where Boba’s precious necklace rests. Your engagement necklace, Boba’s symbol. Out of mere spite you wish you could rub it in Kuat’s face, this claim that Boba has laid to you, but instead, you resolve to button up your blouse a bit more when he is not currently staring at you.

“My apology for this… misunderstanding. Tovris here is quite concerned about my safety, especially when you bring such a mighty warrior as this Mandalorian to a simple meeting. I hope this little… hiccup, shall we say, does not diminish our heartfelt welcome.” Kuat pauses as if he is waiting for you to respond, but you just look at him until he starts to shift under your gaze, and clears his throat. “Well… We have prepared a meal for your arrival. After dinner, we shall inspect the ship I have found for you.”

“I don’t think I want to wait until after dinner, my dear Kuat of Kuat.” You can feel the honey dripping from your voice, but you can also feel the sharp edge of it, cutting through the air like ice - and from the expression on Kuat’s face, he can hear it too. “We have made this long journey for one reason, and one reason only. This is a visit of business, not of pleasure. Why don’t we go see the ship right now?”

“I just thought… after your long journey, you must be exhausted, Mistress.”

“Would you stop calling me that,” you mutter under your breath. Din tenses behind you when Kuat folds his arms and bows deeply, but you pay him no mind.

“Is there any other title you would prefer, Mistress?”

You are lost for words for a second – you did not actually think about this beforehand. Letting Kuat call you by your name feels much too familiar, and any other title… Din’s voice breaks the silence.

“Forgive the interruption, Milady. Vegesh’ni rejorhaai veman’alor mhi ru’olaro morut’yc?”

You smile quietly to yourself when his words sink in. Din is much too perceptive for his own good, and much too resourceful for anyone else’s. You don’t understand every single Mando’a word he utters, but enough to get that he is asking permission to inform Boba of your arrival on Kuat. In one phrase, he has ensured your safety without Kuat being any wiser, and given you a title you can let Kuat use. You do not deserve him.

“Elek, ver’gebuir,” you answer in the same language. Better to play your cards close to your chest in Kuat’s presence, better not to let your host know what the two of you are up to.

Boba taught you that word, ver’gebuir, before you left, when the two of you were debating how you could address Din in public as you don’t want to use his name. Bodyguard. He is so much more than that to you, but no one can ever know – especially not Kuat.

You doubt there are many people in the galaxy who would understand Mando’a – even if you had called Din cyare it would probably not have made a difference. Still, you would rather stay on the safe side, so ver’gebuir it is. Din makes an odd sound at the title, but catches himself. Tovris squints her yellow eyes at him, burning into his dark visor, but she does not say anything. You turn your head from Din back to Kuat, calmly nodding to yourself.

“Milady will do as a title, thank you, Kuat of Kuat.” Kuat’s eyes flick back to you, and he bows his head.

“Milady.” He offers you his arm, and though you dread letting him touch you again, it would be impolite to refuse. “Where is Master Fett, if I may take the liberty to ask?”

“You may not.” Your own voice sounds foreign to you when you answer, cool and controlled. “The Daimyō of Tatooine has a planet to rule. Nothing else should be of any concern to you.”

“My apologies, mis- Milady. I was just trying to make conversation.”

“If you want to talk, we can talk about the ship. Why don’t you lead us there now? I would like to see it. We will not stay here long – like I said, this is business, not pleasure.” It feels strange, this role you have carved out for yourself, so aloof and short spoken. Usually, you would like to make easy conversation, to make your business partner feel comfortable in your presence, but something about Kuat’s behaviour sows a deep mistrust in you. You think back to the way he touched you in Boba’s court, and shiver. Yes, you are glad Din is here with you.

“Very well. I thought I might take you on a tour of the yards if you were so inclined, but you seem quite anxious to leave.” There is something in Kuat’s voice that makes you pause - everything he says seems like a thinly veiled attempt to get a rise out of you.

“I am not anxious, dear Kuat. I merely do not like being away from my home. I’m sure you feel the same.” There. A diplomatic answer. Fuck, you hate the hidden politics of all this. You exit the landing platform, taking one last look at the planet far below the ring you are walking on that contains the shipyards. The planet looks beautiful, not drab and metallic, but the knowledge that all of this beauty was created artificially somehow dims it. The landing platform you were directed to is situated right next to a large building that must be Kuat’s home, although it feels more like a collection of offices rather than a place to live – from the outside, that is.

The yards are more beautiful than you expected once you pass the thick durasteel gates that separate the building from the rest of the Ring. There is more flora than you thought could possibly grow on a construction such as this, and you are getting the feeling that Kuat is taking the scenic route through the building to try and get some information out of you by making conversation, although why, you cannot say. What could he possibly be aiming to learn?

Tovris and Din walk a half step behind you, each of them with their hands on their belts, while Kuat and you meander through the wide corridors. If not for the tension that crackles in the air, it could have felt like two lovers on a walk with their chaperones. Finally, Kuat’s voice breaks the silence.

“You are right, I do not like being away from my home either. This is my planet. But you do not need to worry, Milady, you have a bodyguard to protect you. I promise you are quite safe here.” Again, there is an edge to Kuat’s voice, something cold and conniving and calculating. You don’t answer, just raise an eyebrow and turn back to look at Din.

“Gar susulu? Kaysh… sirbu ni morut’yc olar.”

Din lets out a small chuckle while Kuat eyes you suspiciously. Tovris’s hand twitches, fisting around the handle of her vibroblade, though she does not draw it – what reason would she have? That you spoke in a language she did not understand?

“What is this language? I thought I was familiar with most of the tongues spoken in this galaxy,” Kuat inquires.

“Oh Kuat, do you really need to ask? I thought you were smarter than that,” you sneer. Teasing him means you do not have to give a straight answer.

“Hm… so, Mando’a,” he mumbles in response. You just shrug, neither confirming nor denying what he has pieced together. He does not ask how you know it, and you are glad he leaves the matter alone.

You walk for a while, a long colonnade of painted durasteel pillars lining your way. The archway opens to a beautiful garden on one side, and although you try not to get distracted, you find yourself fascinated by the rich colours of the plants that grow there. They seem to be a collection of species from all over the galaxy. Kuat notices your interest and is quick to explain how he acquired each plant, and where each of them comes from. You start to relax a bit, calmed by the easy conversation and Din’s steady presence a few steps behind you, though you can feel the Zabrak’s eyes burning holes into your back.

“Are you certain you do not wish to have dinner before we look at the ship, Milady?” Kuat asks when you round a corner. “We are quite close to the pavilion if you would like to take your meal there. I had rooms prepared for you as well in case you wish to stay the night.”

You contemplate for a second, then turn back to look at Din who shrugs almost imperceptibly. The green of the gardens is reflected by the beskar, and he reminds you so much of Boba then that you nearly start to cry. You miss Boba more with every step you have to take without him by your side.

“Alright,” you finally answer reluctantly. “Your dinner invitation is accepted, Kuat of Kuat. I thank you for your hospitality. But my bodyguard and I shall spend the night on the Daimyō’s ship, though I appreciate your offer to house us for the night.”

Kuat bows his head, gently steering you to the left and into the gardens.

“If you are sure, Milady. I thought you might want to spend the night in a proper bed and not on a metal cot.”

You don’t answer. Any possible explanation you could give him would be insulting.

Up close, the gardens are even more beautiful than you would have thought from afar: lush greenery, sweet smelling flowers, and vibrant colours all around. It seeps into your senses, filling them with a dazed happiness. It has been so long since you saw anything beside the endless browns of the dune sea.

“Where are we going?” you inquire, deeply inhaling the different scents. You let your hand graze the soft leaves of the plants as you continue your walk at a leisurely pace. All you can think is how wonderful it would be if only Boba was here to enjoy the scenery with you.

“The pavilion is located in the centre of the garden, Milady. I assumed you would enjoy taking your meal there.”

Usually, you would berate Kuat for making assumptions, but in this case, he is absolutely right, so you hold your tongue. You may not trust him, but you have to admit that he is a very gracious host.

“That is very thoughtful of you, Kuat.”

A few minutes pass, your eyes quietly drinking in all the wonders around you as you wander through the spacious garden, gently guided by Kuat’s arm that is still hooked under yours. You turn around a few times to make sure Din is still following you, and you find him there each time, a hand casually resting on his blaster while the other clutches something that hangs from his belt – a broad, short metal… stick? You have never seen Din fight, so you do not know which weapons he uses in battle. You smile at him before you turn around again to continue your conversation with Kuat, asking him more questions about the ship that is waiting for you somewhere in the Yards. Though you are not exactly comfortable with this entire situation, you cannot wait to see it – such a rare thing it is, from what you have seen so far.

When you reach the pavilion, you are surprised to find food and servants already waiting for you. Kuat pulls back your chair, ever the gentleman. You smile at him for good measure, though it is not genuine. For a second, you think you see a flash of guilt in his eyes, but you think you must have imagined it as he gives you a toothy smile and takes his seat across from you.

Dinner passes with easy conversation – Kuat seems to have learned which subjects to avoid, so you talk about the yacht that he has prepared for you, about your plans for Boonta Eve and his project of extending the Yards so they can take on even more and even bigger projects. Your comm pings between courses, and you smile at Boba’s little check-ins.

You alright, princess?

You answer as quickly as you can, feeling Kuat’s eyes on you even in the few moments it takes you to formulate a quick answer.

Yes, I’m alright. We’re at dinner before we go see the ship. I miss you.

A few moments later, another ping.

Bal ni gar, alor’ika - Miss you too, princess. Be careful.

You try not to let on how much these little messages mean to you, but you can not suppress a smile when you answer.

I always am, and Din is right here. Can’t wait to come home to you.

You turn your comm to silent - you know if you don’t you will keep checking, and as much as you wish you could continue talking to Boba, it would be more than impolite to ignore your host.

“I see you have important business to take care of,” Kuat says, and though the words seem polite, there is a certain sour taste to them. You hope you have not insulted him.

“My apologies, Kuat. Boba was asking if everything is going alright.”

Kuat pales at the mention of Boba, his eye twitching, but he quickly catches himself, and starts blabbering on about some project for the extension of the Yards for which he needs workers.

Din stands quietly behind you, unmoving and unreadable as always. The thought pops into your head that Kuat did not even ask whether Din would like to have something to eat as well. Not that Din could have accepted, of course, but it would have seemed polite for Kuat to at least offer. Tovris does not eat either, her yellow eyes scanning the delicate pavilion and its surroundings before returning back to you, over and over again. She makes you nervous, but you try your best to focus on the conversation. The dinner consists of multiple courses, each absolutely delicious, though you cannot enjoy the food as much as you would like to, not with that strange, lingering tension that is too heavy in your stomach. The sky is completely dark when you finally finish. The conversation may flow easy – as you assumed, Kuat is a gracious host and a good entertainer – but you are getting impatient. You want to see the ship, get some rest and leave the next morning, whether you decide to take the yacht with you or not. When you tell Kuat as much, he smiles, but it is a cold smile, one that reminds you more of a Nexu than a human.

“Very well then, Milady. I will take you to the ship.”

You expect the walk to go on, and are surprised when Kuat turns around to go back the same way you have come from.

“I had the yacht brought out to the landing docks during dinner for your convenience,” he explains. You frown – you did not see him typing anything on his comm. He must have told Tovris, who bent down several times during the long meal to whisper something or other into Kuat’s ear. Din lightly grips your wrist, and you mumble an apology to Kuat when you stop walking to listen to what Din has to say.

“Mayen aala… kyor’la.” His voice is quiet, but you can hear the uneasiness that laces each of his words. You bite your lip and shake your head – you don’t understand.

“Ne staabi,” Din says, an urgency to his voice. Ah, that you do understand. He feels the same tension in the air that you have felt ever since you stepped off the Slave.

“Ni kar’tayli.” You pause as you search for the right words. “Hmm… Gar haa’tayli… ori.”

Din chuckles lowly and you almost smack his arm playfully, but stop yourself when you notice that Kuat is watching the two of you.

“Ni cabuo gar, sarad’ika,” Din mumbles. You almost well up at the softness that resounds from within his words. I protect you, little flower. Throwing him one last look, one you hope reads as ‘Keep an eye out, I don’t trust anyone here’, you step back to Kuat’s side, smiling sweetly at your host. The rest of the walk passes quickly, with you asking final questions you have about the restoration of the ship before you inspect everything for yourself.

When you see the ship, you pause. Kuat was not kidding when he said the yacht was in excellent condition. It is a shining, shimmery grey, luxury seeping from every inch of polished steel. Not quite as agile as you might have liked, but that was to be expected. This is a ship for travelling long distances comfortably, not for shooting down your enemies – even though you do spot the augmented laser cannons. For a moment, you have to search for the right words.

“Kuat, you were- she is truly magnificent. A wonderful find.”

“Thank you, Milady. Rare to find a pre-imperial ship in such good condition these days, as I’ve said before. We did not have to do much in terms of restoration at all. Would you like to see the inside?”

“I would love to,” you nod enthusiastically. Since you have already evaluated all the blueprints and scans, the craftsmanship is of less importance to you right now. The whole reason you came here is so Din could find out whether the ship felt right for him. Any minor adjustments can be made once you are back at Boba’s court. Din follows you closely as you walk into the belly of the ship. It is even more beautiful inside than out, comfortable and open, with cosy decorations. You wonder if they were left there by the previous owner or if Kuat had the ship staged to make it easier to sell. Under the pretence of inspecting the ship for yourself – or, for your ‘friend’, as far as Kuat knows – you drag Din through all the rooms. You do not talk much, not while Kuat waits in the main room with his foot tapping against the metal tile. You wonder if he is impatient to hear your judgement, or if his nervosity stems from something else.

“I think it is wonderful,” you mumble to Din when you look around the spacious bedroom. “Great condition, but I expected that. I like the feel of it, too, though, much more than I thought I would. It does not feel too large for one person, not as much as I expected.”

“Hm.” Other than that sound, Din does not react. You place your hand on his pauldron, wishing you could talk openly right now.

“Mhi jorhaai… later.”

Din nods his confirmation, and you hastily pull back your hand when you hear steps approaching. Kuat rounds the corner, a smile much too big to be real plastered on his face.

“What do you think, Milady? It would be a shame to let a ship like this go to waste, let it be scrapped and stripped for parts.”

“I’m sure you have other buyers lined up,” you reply, slightly amused at his exaggerated salesman behaviour. “But I like what I am seeing. I’ll take a closer look at the cockpit, and then I think the tour is complete.”

Kuat watching you makes you nervous, but you try to ignore him as best you can when you undo the coverings of the consoles to take a look at the wiring and technical makeup of the steering. All seems to be in order, though you find at least five things already that you know can easily be improved. That is your job, though – you did not expect Kuat to improve the ship once he found it. At least this way you can be sure that no tempering has occurred – at least as far as you can tell from your quick looks. If Din decides to take it, you will have a proper look before you leave Kuat in the morning.

You nod at Kuat and his eyes light up.

“You will take it?”

“No,” you reply, then quickly amend. “Well. Maybe. I will have to speak to my friend – as you know, this purchase is not meant for myself. I merely wanted to get a feel if this could be the right fit and I always find it easier to do that in person. No holovid, no matter how detailed, can convey that feeling of character when you step foot onto a ship, don’t you think so?”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Kuat nods eagerly. “They must be a very good friend if you take it upon yourself to come all this way.”

“The best,” you say quietly. It feels like the first truly honest thing that has come out of your mouth ever since you landed. Kuat looks at you thoughtfully, then shakes his head as if willing himself to focus.

“Very well. Is there anything else I can do for you? You are sure you want to spend the night on your ship, not in the rooms I had prepared for you?”

“I am quite certain, thank you, Kuat.” You descend down to the landing platform, looking across the open space. The Slave is only one platform over, and you are glad. It is exhausting, talking to this man, picking your words and gestures so carefully. You cannot wait to relax in the safety of your own walls, to be surrounded again by Boba’s lingering presence inside the ship that calms you and reassures you. As politely and quickly as you can, you bid Kuat – and Tovris, who stares at you coldly – a good night, assuring them that you will be fine walking back to the Slave without any escort beside your own bodyguard.

“I will see you in the morning,” you call, already halfway off the landing platform. You can feel their eyes burning into your back, and so you don’t hook under Din’s arm even though you desperately want to. You don’t talk, either – who’s to say who might be listening? Instead, you wait until you and Din are safely back inside the Slave before engaging all ground security protocols, just as Boba has taught you. Only when everything is sealed and locked do you relax, stepping closer to Din and resting your hand on his vambrace.

“Are you alright, Din?”

The tension seems to leave him at your words, exhaustion replacing the cool detachment he projected before.

“Something feels off. It’s just- this planet, the air, those servants… none of it feels quite right, and it’s not just Kuat’s general greed to make more credits. There is something… I don’t know.”

“Hmhm,” you hum. “I feel it too. Like a storm that is about to break, and you are waiting for the first clap of thunder.”

“Yes, exactly like that,” Din mumbles. You step even closer, your breath fogging up the shining beskar of his cuirass.

“Hold me for a while?” you ask quietly. “If that is something I can ask… If it’s too much, I understand, but this day-“

Din’s arms wrap around you so tightly that you cut yourself off mid-sentence. He hugs you like he is starved for it, the lip of his helmet digging into your skull, and his fingers desperately grasping at you. You stay still, you let him take what he needs, wrapping your own arms around him as far as you can reach and burying your face against his chest. He smells so different than Boba, but still familiar, still comforting. Finally, you can drop the steel in your voice and the rigidity of your words.

“What’d you think of the ship?” Your voice is muffled, and with a sigh, Din lets go of you. You take his hand and drag him over to the small sleeping chamber, sitting on the lower cot and patting the space next to you. His armour creaks when Din sits down, and you distantly wonder if he will take it off to sleep.

“I… I don’t know,” he sighs. “It didn’t feel like the Crest.”

“Oh Din, of course it didn’t feel like your old Razor Crest. She is irreplaceable, she was your home. You can’t expect this new ship to immediately give you the same feeling. Think about this ship in a more abstract way. Was it too big? Did you like the layout? How did you feel, did you feel like this is something you could potentially make a home? If you spent some time in it and adjusted it to your needs?”

“Hmm… maybe. Maybe, I don’t know. Honestly…” Din pauses for a second. “At this point, I don’t even know if I need it to be home anymore.”

“What do you mean?” You are taken aback by his words. You literally spent weeks – months – searching for this ship because Din wanted something that he could make into a home for himself. That was the whole prerequisite for your search.

“I mean… in all the time I spent with you and Boba, and then… with the Tuskens, too… I just think, maybe I won’t travel the galaxy so much anymore. If I am going to be Mand’alor, I need to settle. I need to be planetside, to start rebuilding and saving what is left of our culture.”

“Oh.” Your hand sneaks over to grab his again. “That is… that is actually a good point. I never thought about it like that.”

“Because you don’t like to think about me leaving,” Din mumbles, squeezing your hand when you open your mouth to respond. “You don’t need to explain yourself, sarad’ika. I can see it in your eyes, how much it hurts you every time I mention it. I also know that it is not enough. You can’t ask me to stay, and I don’t expect you to.”

There is a lump in your throat. You can’t cry, not now. But everything he says is true. You wish Din could stay, but you cannot continue on as you have, and you don’t want to. You will be married, and Din will be Mand’alor. He cannot stay on Tatooine with you and Boba, it is just not in the cards. And you hate that.

“I’ll think about the ship. I can’t give you an answer, not yet, not tonight.” Din lets go of your hand to get up. “I have to go get some food, sweet girl. Haven’t really eaten and I am starving.”

You stare after him when he leaves, absently nodding as you contemplate your situation. You liked the ship – you really liked it. As you suggested to Boba when Kuat first messaged you about the ship, if Din does not take it, it might be worth a shot to try and ask Boba if he wants it. You could… you could call him. No. You want to call him so badly, but you know hearing his voice will break you. You will yell and scream and probably cry, and you will get in the Slave and break any records previously set in Hyperspace Flying to get back to him.

This day has been a lot, Kuat keeping you on your toes, and you have not really had the time to let yourself sink into missing Boba. But it hits you now, those deep waves of lonely sadness as you think about him sleeping in his bed all alone, knowing that you will not be waiting when the court retires. How you will have to sleep alone tonight as well. You miss his hands in your hair and his lips on yours, and it hurts so much you can barely breathe. You want to be held by him. Your heart stutters, and suddenly the walls feel like they are closing in around you. Everything gets smaller around you, the world shrinking away, and you gasp for breath, stumbling over to the ramp. Your hands shake when you quietly disengage the lock of the ramp to lower it and step down into the cool night. You nearly sag to the ground before you can force yourself to take deep breaths. You are here. Boba is fine, he will be waiting for you when you come home. Everything will be alright. Finally, you get your breathing under control and look around you, your eyes going wide in wonder as you really take in your surroundings.

It feels like you are standing in the middle of the sky, the shiny chrome around you reflecting the stars. You are a tiny speck in the galaxy, and there is so much space between you and the one you love that the thought nearly breaks you all over again. Even when Boba was gone before, you had the familiarity of Tatooine around you; you had Fennec and Din and the palace. Now that you are the one who has gone away, you understand Boba’s desperation to get back to you better. You remember asking him if he really thought being away was harder than being the one waiting. Now that you have experienced both, you can’t decide. They are such different kinds of pain.

You wander over to sit at the edge of the platform, letting your feet dangle into empty space. Heights have never scared you, even though it is dizzying to look down – up? – and know there will be nothing to catch you if you fall. Well – maybe there is. It would be smart to have some kind of safety installed around this dock… You embrace the thought of the complicated mechanics involved in artgrav systems and space security measures. Anything to distract you from that gaping, empty feeling inside your chest. You shiver – you are cold. Boba is always warm, so warm against you, and now that he is not here to hold you, it feels like you will never be warm again.

You are quietly debating the pros and cons of having a failsafe that turns of artgrav in emergency situations when something cold presses against your back. Din. He must have come to find you. You turn around, a smile on your face. And you are met with a cold stare from yellow eyes, and realise the cold metal digging into your back is not Din’s beskar. It’s Tovris’s rifle.

“Get up, Milady,” she spews, and from her lips the title sounds worse than any insult. Your eyes flick around, taking in the group of warriors that somehow snuck up on you. You count five more, aside from Tovris, and – Kuat, standing slightly to the side.

“What’s the meaning of this?” you manage, although your voice sounds weaker than you had hoped.

“My apologies, Milady. But I cannot let you leave. You are too valuable. I saw that necklace you are wearing - oh, look at the surprise in your eyes. Stupid girl, did you think I would not know what it means? Did you really think I would not understand what you mean to Boba? You don’t give me enough credit. I’ve had my share of the galaxy, and here you come, actually thinking I would not know a Mandalorian engagement necklace when I see it.” Kuat sounds strangely apologetic, though insufferably self-satisfied. “I have a lot of customers who would pay a good price to have something as important as you with them in their negotiations with the Daimyō of Tatooine. In fact, the highest bidders are already on their way here. I thought you made it impossible to carry out my plans when you refused my quarters for the night, but it seems your… bodyguardis not so useful after all.”

Tovris pulls you to your feet and drags you over to Kuat. You stumble after her, yelping in pain when she pushes you to your knees in front of him.

“Maybe if you and your great king had been more polite, I would have been inclined to let this opportunity pass me by.” Any pretence of politeness is gone from Kuat’s voice, cold disdain dripping from his words like acid. “Maybe if he did not insult me by sending me out, by making me wait, by calling me in last. Maybe if he had not denied me from having you-“

You feel fear prickle down your spine, and for the first time you are really and truly afraid. If this had been about using you for negotiations only, you are absolutely certain Boba would have done whatever was necessary to get you back. But this implies that Kuat has other things planned before he hands you over to the highest bidder. This implies so much more cruelty than you thought he was capable of. When Kuat rests his hand on your head to pull at your hair until you look up with him, tears in your eyes, his face is suddenly void of any beauty. Sure, he still looks the same, a beautiful shell wrapped around a rotten core. His eyes are cruel and cold, none of the pity you thought you detected in the earlier left in them, and it scares you. Kuat pulls at your hair again, grabbing your jaw with fingers much too soft for so rough a treatment. His fingers dig into your jaw, sliding down your throat until you nearly gag from the contact alone. You want to reach for the little vibroblade tucked under your blouse, but Tovris’s rifle still digs into your back, and though you know they won’t kill you, you are scared of what they might do to you if you try.

Suddenly, there is a commotion behind you, a high-pitched whistle carried through the air, Kuat’s warriors sagging to the ground without any visible cause. Tovris manages to turn around, but she is met by a whirlwind of chrome armour with a dark, humming blade, and suddenly, her rifle lays on the ground while she clutches her arm to her chest. Din rams his armoured knee against her head with unbelievable force and she sags to the ground. Kuat’s eyes go wide, and he reaches for the small blaster tucked in his robes, but he is not fast enough.

“Don’t touch what is not yours,” Din rumbles, his sword humming so close to Kuat’s throat that you can practically smell the burnt flesh in the air. Kuat’s hands let go of you and you sag to the ground, completely overwhelmed with this situation. Din’s visor never leaves his opponent even as he helps you up from the ground and pushes you behind him.

“And you, bodyguard, you would know about touching what is not yours,” Kuat snarls. “Do you think I did not recognise you, Din Djarin? Boba Fett’s little pet, the pretend Mand’alor, the apostate, cast out by his own clan… And yet here you are, shielding Boba Fett’s precious princess as if she was yours to protect.”

Din is breathing hard, his hand squeezing yours as he pushes you further behind him, shielding you with his body.

“How do you know all this?”

“Information is the most valued currency in the galaxy. Credits are not the only thing people pay me for their ships.” Kuat’s eyes are hard as steel though you can see his hands shaking and his cheek twitching. He is nervous. Good. You rest your hand on Din’s beskar-clad back, trying not to distract him, but you need to feel him, you need to know he is real, that he is really here.

“You are going to tell me who told you all this,” Din says calmly. Kuat stares at him, a defiant expression on his face.

“You think I fear death, oh mighty Mand’alor? I do not. Nothing you could do to me is worse than what they would-“

“I’m not going to kill you,” Din interrupts him. “And maybe you do not fear me. But it won’t be me that gets this information out of you. I’m sure Boba would be most happy to pick up some of his old skills. I have heard a story or two about how good he is at finding out what he wants to know… certainly you have, too.”

You see the fear in Kuat’s eyes then – a real terror and panic that seeps into his bones and chills him until his face is ashen. Din nods, and so quick you nearly miss it, knocks the heft of his strange sword against Kuat’s temple. The man sags, but Din catches him and starts dragging him towards the Slave I. You stumble after him, watching as Din puts him in the carbon freezer. Kuat looks oddly peaceful in his slumber, and you catch yourself wanting to see the horror in his eyes again. You want to know he is conscious and suffering and afraid every second you spend in hyperspace until he has to face Boba. You are breathing hard and the ground is spinning. You wonder distantly if you have already started the take-off cycle, until Din’s hands settle heavy on your shoulders.

“You are having a panic attack,” he states calmly. “I need you to breathe slower for me, sweet girl. Focus on my voice, focus on the here and now. I’ll call Boba. I’ll fly the ship. Just breathe for me.”

“W-what ab-bout your sh-ship?” you manage to get out. Everything seems so far away, but that thought rings in your head. Din shakes his head.

“Not important. I’m getting you back to Boba, that is all that matters.”

You start to cry at his words, heavy sobs that shake your entire body. Tears are streaming down your face. This was so much, so fast. You always thought you were a good judge of character, but while you thought something was afoot you would never have guessed this would happen. Din pulls you against his broad chest and you let him drag you up to the cockpit, strap you into the seat and start the cycle. Take-off is a little shaky, but Din manages well enough. Even if you had been about to crash, you are not sure you could have reacted in time, but it doesn’t matter, because Din gets you out safely, turning around to you once you are in the atmosphere and safe from any tractor beams.

“Are you alright, sweet girl? Keep breathing for me, can you do that?”

You nod quietly, and Din stretches out his hand to squeeze yours.

“You’re doing so well for me. Keep breathing, in and out, okay? Match my rhythm.” He fiddles with some small cog on his helmet and suddenly his breath gets louder. The tears start falling again when it hits you how much he cares. You squeeze his hand back, and Din turns back to you.

“Very good. I’m gonna get us out of here, and then we’ll call Boba, alright?”

“H-hm,” you press out, trying to swallow the sobs that rise up in your chest. Din nods silently, typing in the coordinates for Tatooine, and a few seconds later, you watch the stars blur. The ground has stopped spinning, but still, the situation does not really compute in your brain.

“I’m gonna call Boba now, okay? I’m right here, I just need my hand.” Din’s voice is the gentlest it has ever been, and you blink away tears as you realise you are still squeezing his fingers as tight as you can. Heat rises to your cheeks when you let go of him, the embarrassment so stupid in the face of all this madness, but you can not help it. Din types something into the comm on the console, then curses when nobody picks up the signal.

“You h-have to turn off the s-sublight comm antenna,” you mutter. “It fucks with the signal for s-some reason, I haven’t figured out why.”

Din nods quietly when you point at a lever to his right. When he tries again, Boba’s voice answers within seconds.

“Alor’ika? Are you alright?”

You want to answer him, you really do, but at the concern in his voice you just break out in tears again. No, you want to answer, no, I’m not alright, please come and hold me, I need you. Instead, you sob quietly into the piece of cloth Din hands you and listen to his calm voice explain the situation.

Boba rages. He has never scared you, not even that one time he crowded you in that storage room, clearly fuming with anger. But he scares you now. You thought you had seen that side of him, you thought the stories told you all you needed to know. Nothing could have prepared you for this. You are not scared for yourself – in all his fury, Boba makes sure to let you know that none of this is your fault. But the hatred that drips from his voice when he talks about Kuat, when he describes what he will do to him… you do not doubt for one second that the man you are speaking to right now is capable of doing all of that and more without batting an eyelash. You know he is still Boba – he always will be, your Boba. But you also know you will never forget this for as long as you live. His rage sears deep into your heart, and you shiver at the disgust you feel at yourself for not being appalled by his violence. Oh no, you are not appalled. You are grateful, because you want Kuat to suffer. You want him to suffer for that look in his eyes when you kneeled before him, for the things you know he would have done to you if he’d had the opportunity. And you realise that you are not scared of Boba. You are scared of yourself and of the hatred that burns inside you, so much more intense than what you thought you could ever be capable of feeling.

You never stop crying - the tears won’t stop long enough for you to really speak, so you listen to the two of them talk. Some of it is in Mando’a, and you do not have the focus to understand what they are saying, but you catch bits and pieces. Boba saying I should have never let you go without me, princess.Din apologising for not being there, and you want to interrupt him, tell him he was there when it mattered most and that this is not his fault, but you know if you open your mouth you will scream until your lungs give out.

Every time Boba checks in with a quiet “You still with us, princess?” you press out a quiet confirmation or just nod and let Din repeat your action to Boba. You wish you could talk to him properly, but you can’t focus and the world seems strangely far away. Hearing his voice calms you, though. Now you know for certain that he is alright, that he is not in danger, that he will be waiting for you when you get home. At some point, Boba says something that makes you sit up in your chair a bit, something that sounds like… “Tayli’kaysh par ni, Din. Meh kaysh copaani.”

And before Boba has finished speaking, Din is already out of his seat, kneeling in front of you, asking if he can touch you. And you nod, of course you do, if Boba can’t be here, Din is the only other person in the world you want with you. He undoes the straps that he fastened earlier and lifts you out of the seat, carrying you over to the pilot’s chair with him. You bury your face against his armoured chest, strong arms wrapping around you, and while you wish they were Boba’s, you are grateful that Din is here. Soft lips touch your hair, and you realise Din has taken off his helmet. Quietly, you cup his jaw with your hand, a silent thank you when words will not suffice. Din leans into your touch, intently listening to Boba’s instructions on which routes to avoid to get back to Tatooine as quickly and safely as possible.

“Alor’ika,” Boba finally says. “Alor’ika, I’m so sorry. I am so sorry you had to go through this, it is all my fault. I should never have let you go without me, I should never have trusted that Kuat would not betray me. I should have been there to protect you, and I should be there now to comfort you.”

You weakly try to protest, but Boba will hear none of it.

“We will talk about this more when you get home, alright, little one? I have to see you- have to hold you, I cannot bear talking about losing you when I do not have the reassurance of feeling you by my side. It hurts too much.”

You start crying again, but not the breathless, panicked sobs that shook you earlier, but silent tears that stream down your face as his words sink in. For him to be so soft, and with Din listening - it kills you. Boba asks if you want to stay on the comms, but you are so exhausted that you don’t think you can, so you quietly whisper an apology. Din promises to check in with Boba every hour. His hands rub soothing circles on your back, and you can feel your eyelids drooping, a fatigue settling deep in your bones that you cannot overcome, no matter how hard you try to stay awake.

“I love you.” Boba’s voice shakes a little, and that is enough to rip you out of your tired trance.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back. It hurts when Boba finally says goodbye. You wish you could hold him, reassure him that nothing happened to you, that you are fine. You wish he could hold you, reassure you that he is here, and he always will be. Instead you press your face against Din’s chest and try to keep your breathing under control. Boba can’t be here. You will have to manage somehow until you are home.

A few quiet moments pass after the call ends. Din is still holding you tightly, but you can feel him shifting underneath you. You look up when he mumbles that he has to take care of some things, and asks if you will be okay if he leaves for a few minutes. You nods and Din carries you back over to your seat before climbing down the ladder. A few moments later, he brings you some kind of medication and tells you that if you want to sleep for the rest of the journey, he’ll take care of everything. You just need to take the pill he hands you. You swallow it without asking questions, and barely a few minutes later, you are knocked out and gratefully give yourself to sleep’s comforting embrace.

Previous Chapter ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Next Chapter

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Mando'a translations

Vegesh’ni rejorhaai veman’alor mhi ru’olaro morut’yc? – Should I inform the King that we have arrived safely? Elek, ver’gebuir. – Yes, bodyguard. Gar susulu ibac? Kaysh sirbu ni morut’yc olar. – Do you hear that? He says I am safe here. Bal ni gar, alor’ika. – And I you, princess (in context: I miss you too) Mayen aala… kyor’la. – Something feels… rotten. Ne staabi. – Not right. Ni kar’tayli. Gar haa’tayli… ori. – I know. You see… big (‘much’ is what she means) Ni cabuo gar, sarad’ika. – I protect you, little flower. Mhi jorhaai… later. – We’ll talk… later. Tayli’kaysh par ni, Din. Meh kaysh copaani. – Hold her for me, Din. If she wants.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Join my taglist here

I apologise for the lack of NSFW spice in this chapter but I could not pull off the mood-swing I just could not. Enjoy these angsty pages.

@aeryntheofficial @milfplo-koon @rescuethewretched @deewithani @thefact0rygirl @clonecyare @tenderclio @twistedstitcher27 @spaceydragons @maygalodon @samanthacookieone @echoskama @equalityforcats @ashotofspotchka @troubleonryloth @levi-llama @bobaafetts @fantastic-commander-fox @thesithformerlyknownaskenobi @lackofhonor @a-c-lee @imalovernotahater @ladykatakuri @solidago-sempervirens @meabravo @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @corrabell @bucketbunny @sharpbarnacle @amcheeken @snarwor @basilbumble @fivesarctrooper @cyarbika @moonstrider9904 @damerondala0

[maul-ologue]

"Now I’ll carry you with me wherever I go.”

are you KIDDING me???

okay but looking back on filthy Chapter 17 and now seeing this post right after:

(by John Nadeau & Jordi Ensign from Star Wars: Boba Fett - Twin Engines Of Destruction, 1997)

...I am having Thots™. I could save them for a rainy day but I have an intense need to Share With The Class (NSFW headcanons below the cut)

… What if Boba becomes a bit obsessed with you wearing his helmet during sex? Even when it’s not to blindfold you, even when Din is not there to use as an excuse.

He asks you to wear it again and you are a little confused. Why would you, you don’t need to be blindfolded this time round

“Come on princess, for me. Let me see you wear it again, you looked so good last time, all exposed just for me with my helmet on… mine.”

So you let him pull it over your head, this time without the modification settings and you can actually see him.

He gets on his knees for you, his broad shoulders spreading your legs wide and you lean back so you can see him better as he buries his face in you

“My pretty girl, wearing my armour- sound so good, I can hear everything, fucking everything, mesh’la-”

And that’s when it clicks, and you remember how much the modulator always enhances Din’s and Boba’s little breaths and groans and how kriffing hot that is

And so you decide to put on a good show, moaning and sighing and gasping his name while Boba eats you out, fucking devours you like he was stranded in the dune sea and you are his oasis

“Fuck, you look so good like that, princess, wearing the crown of your king, I’d know your pretty cunt out of millions even if I never saw your face, always so fucking ready for me, so wet and sweet and tight, wanna bury myself in there forever, make you come until your tears stain my buy’ce…”

The visor is fogging up with your heavy breaths and you arch into his touch, your head lolling back and you cry out his name when you come, the sound so strange and loud, resounding within the helmet while Boba grips your trembling thighs.

“Just like that, gonna remember you wearing this, screaming my name as you come in my mouth, princess, look so pretty like that with your pussy gaping for me, asking to be filled...”

He makes you come again and again with his mouth and his fingers and his cock, until you’re fucked out and boneless, tears seeping out from underneath the helmet when he asks for just one more over and over again until you just can't anymore and you collapse into his waiting arms

When he is finally satisfied you’ve lost count of your orgasms and your brain stopped working many many hours ago. He lifts off the helmet and kisses you softly.

“My alor’ika staining my armour with her tears when she comes, so fucking hot.. Now I’ll carry you with me wherever I go.”

No, we are not going to talk about the psychological implications of Boba saying his helmet is his face and thinking it's hot when you wear it while he fucks you. We are simply not. We are bucketfuckers, how could we judge him for being one too.

*.·:·.☽✧  .·:·..·:·..·:·..·:·.  ✦  .·:·..·:·..·:·..·:·.  ✧☾.·:·.*

Join my taglist using this Signup Form or just message me!

This one goes out to my fellow Boba lovers: @ethenae @adancedivasmom @kakashibabe02 @kik51199 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @basilbumble @asaucecoveredsomething @book-of-baba-fett @beskarprincessjenny @mando-amando @goddessofsprings @hayley-the-comet @ladykatakuri @ahsoka1 @perpetual-fangirl900 @frying-panties

[freakrenaissance]

OMG! I love this story so much! I stopped binge reading when things threatened to get angsty 😆... I'm a big ol softy....but it's high time to get back into it...sooo excited!

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Veman'alor (24) ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

!!! NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI !!!

Rating: Mature (Allusions to heavy themes, some explicit language) Wordcount: 5.8k CW: vague verbal allusions to non-con/r*pe, softness, hurt/comfort of sorts, hashing out feelings and resolving some matters

A/N: So many thanks to my beloveds @baba-fett and @thebitchformerlyknownaskenobi - I appreciate both your input so much ❥ And to my wonderful, wonderful readers: Thank you for sticking with me, my darlings! I know the chapters are few and far between, but I am slowly moving along. This story means a lot to me and I want to give it the ending it deserves. I appreciate each and every little comment, ask, and nice tag!

Series Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ Main Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ Taglist Signup

🙤 · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · 🙦

Chapter 24 - Talks, Renewals

Weeks pass. You have stopped asking about Kuat. You don’t want to know where he is or what he is doing. If he is still doing anything, or if he is dead in a ditch somewhere. Boba asked you what you wanted to know, and you have quickly decided that after those first bouts of rage and burning hatred, the images of violence behind your eyelids don’t satisfy you anymore. They don’t help. They just make you crave something you will never get the chance to have – to forget the memory of Kuat’s fingers digging into your neck, and the sound of his voice as he tells you that you should have been his property.

You throw yourself into work – into finding a ship to send after Din as a gift for all he has done, even though he is gone now. Into preparations for Boonta Eve, so you can set a date for the race. You look for pilots, for ships, for mechanics. For old friends who might be interested. It keeps you busy during the days when Boba is not there. He has things to do, you know that, knew it from the start.

It is a strange line to walk - this need to have him around you all the time so you feel safe, but not to let it go too far. At some point, you have to function without him, and you cannot always expect him to be there whenever you need him - he has a planet to run after all. So, you try to keep as busy as you can, to talk to Fennec when you feel lonely, and to work your way through the trauma that has nothing to do with Boba but whom the fallout affects so much.

He holds you through the nightmares, and he never presses you. One time you ask him if it’s a bad thing you don’t talk to him about what happened. The guilt has been gnawing at you every day since you came back - that you are being selfish, that you are taking more than you are giving back. That you may be asking too much of him.

“No,” he simply says. “No, it’s not a bad thing. You should talk to someone about it when you are ready, but that someone does not have to be me, princess. I’m here for whatever you need, but you don’t owe me anything. Tell me what I can do to make you feel comfortable, and I’ll do it. If there is nothing I can do, I shall wait until the day when there is something for me to do.”

He reassures you in every way he can - his husky voice soft and gentle as he talks to you after nightmares, his hands carefully asking for your permission every time he touches you. Sometimes, it makes you cry, to see this man that you have fallen for so hard and loved so much ever since being so careful. Treading on eggshells around you. But even then, he is there to remind you that you deserve to be taken care of, and that he does not mind.

“I’ll always take care of you, alor’ika, for as long as you want me.” You are sitting on his bed when he says it, staring at the shrine of his father’s helmet. “I’ll always be here. I’ll never leave you.”

But even Boba cannot be everything you need, as much as you wish he could. You need a friend, someone rational enough to be able to deal with your delicate emotions, but understanding enough that they won’t judge you for them. And Din is gone.

So, you talk to Fennec. Fennec, who radiates more comfort than you have ever given her credit for. Who finds you someone professional to talk to after a few weeks of processing the events of the yards. Fennec, who guards your every step when you ask her to, because even though you are in the palace, the dark corners scare you at first. The hunger in Kuat’s eyes follows you everywhere you go, and only the quiet clicking of Fennec’s boots, or the clangor of Boba’s spurs can make that feeling go away. You know Kuat is not in the palace anymore – whatever Boba is doing to him, whatever he has done to him, it’s not happening here. That was the only thing you asked for when you and Boba talked about how involved you wanted to be in the solution of this… situation.

You are sitting in your apartment, swiping through a catalogue of spare parts for your pod without really looking at anything as you ponder the memories of the last weeks.

“Are you going to kill him?”

“…no.” Boba stops to look at you with serious eyes. “You can be as involved in this as you want to be. As you need to be and feel able to be. I know you did not grow up like Din and I, you are not Mandalorian – you are not a warrior, or a bounty hunter. I’ll give you whatever you need to process this, to find closure. But I won’t ask anything of you. If you never want to see that man again, I would not blame you. I would tell you only as much as you want to know about the… process.”

“What are you going to do to him?” Your voice sounds small, but there is that burning touch of red anger that makes you sound like a stranger to your own ears. 

Boba smiles, but it is not like any smile you have ever seen from him. Not reserved, or deeply affectionate, not the one with the dimples that only you get to see, or even the cold smile he shows to guests that see him without his helmet.

No, this smile is something else entirely – so full of hatred and cruelty that it is hard to look at him. It transforms his face, and suddenly you can imagine that younger Boba from the stories, the ruthless bounty hunter who worked for the Empire. Who disintegrated people out of pure spite and disregard for life, who is still feared across the galaxy. You can imagine him smiling like this, face younger, without the scars and lines that have come with age – smiling like this when his bounty begs for mercy and Boba tells them there will be none. It scares you, that smile, but what scares you more is that you like it. Because now it feels like you can know for sure that Kuat will get what he deserves. That Boba’s rage will know no bounds. 

The cruel smile fades when Boba’s eyes return from empty space back to you.

“Do you really want to know? If you do, we can talk more about it. If you don’t… I’ll take care of it. You won’t have to ever think about that scum again. I can make it be as if he never existed, if that is what you want. I can display him as an example of what happens to the people that cross me or what is mine. Whatever you want, alor’ika, it is your decision.”

You nod quietly. What is there to say? 

‘Boba, I want to watch as you slowly and agonisingly torture this man to find out who would have paid for me? As you wring the confession from him that he would have- that he would have-’ Stop. You can not think about that right now. All you want to think about is how good it feels to be back in Boba’s arms, and you will not have that ruined for you.

“I just want him gone,” you finally manage. Boba’s hand slips into yours, a gentle pressure reminding you that he is here, he is real, and you are safe. You squeeze his hand, relish the feeling of the scar tissue that covers the back of his hand. Real. He’s real. Boba doesn’t smile when he looks at you.

“I can make that happen.”

The bell of the elevator rips you from your thoughts, and you smile when Fennec comes into view, a smile on her lips as she steps into the room.

“Whatcha up to, tinker girl?” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Looking at wedding dresses?”

That thought throws you off for a second. You have not even thought about starting to plan the wedding ever since you got home. Out of all the things you busied yourself with, the wedding is the last thing you would have prioritised. Even though there is nothing in the world that feels more important, you just cannot seem to bring yourself to talk to Boba about it, and he has not asked, has not suggested setting a date, or any of the things you should be doing to prepare. He has patiently taken care of you, let you process your trauma. Sometimes you wish he would bring up the wedding so you would have a starting point.

You realise you are still staring at Fennec, your mouth slightly agape as a million thoughts rush through your head. Sitting up straighter, you narrow your eyes and try to think of some response to her well-meaning teasing.

“I… no, actually. I want to finally finish my racer-“

“Seriously?” Fennec plops down on the chair beside you and swivels around until her knees bump against yours. “You are engaged to be married. To Boba Fett. Of all people, fucking Boba, who I was sure would never even look at someone for fear they could stab him in the back if he blinked. And all you can think about is finishing your kriffing podracer?”

You grin, but her words hit harder than she intended them to. You know Fennec doesn’t mean to be insensitive – she has nothing to do with what all went down, nothing but as your friend you get to talk to. You are not even sure she knows about the misunderstanding with Boba’s proposal. How could she? Not even Boba knows. You haven’t mentioned it, and the only other person who would know is gone.

Din. Gods, you miss him. His calming presence, his quiet, strong voice. The way he would lean against the doorframe decked out in his full armour and nearly blind you when the suns stood at a specific angle.

Not all of the tears you cry at night are for yourself. Some of them are for him; and sometimes you wonder if you should tell Boba that. Would it make him jealous? Would he understand it, this pain of losing a friend so dear it feels like you lost a small part of yourself?

You shake your head and focus back on the present, picking up your search through the holonet once again. Your racer is nearly done, but the last few parts are the most important - and the hardest to track down.

Fennec leans back in her chair, clearly settling in to watch you work. You talk about nothing and everything- how is the race coming along? Will she go out of town again for another job? A part of her starship has been causing problems, could you take a look at that? You’ll need to repeat the trip to town soon, that lingerie seller wants to take Fennec out and she needs something to wear for their date.

It’s chatter between friends: not meaningless, but mindless; both of you updating each other on your lives. You cannot bring yourself to talk about the one thing you need to talk to her about though: The miscommunication of the proposal. Three times you take a deep breath and set out to tell her about it, and three times you stumble and talk about something else.

You want her opinion though, the opinion of a best friend - and of someone who knows Boba, in some ways maybe even better than you do. It’ll be practice for bringing it up to Boba. At least that is what you are telling yourself.

That thought stings, so openly looked at. You still haven’t talked to him about it. There just always seems… so much to do. More important things. You are engaged, you know that, and it is what you want. Is it really so important how you found out?

“Uh-oh,” Fennec furrows her brow. “You’re making that face. The face of unpleasant things.”

“No, I’m not,” you absently mumble, swiping through parts without really looking at any of them.

“Yes, you are,” she insists. Her hand on your knee is warm and gentle, and you bear the sudden touch nearly without flinching. Her voice goes soft as she speaks on. “Do you… want to talk about it? Is it about… the incident?”

“No!” You answer quickly. Her eyebrow raises even further, and you sigh deeply. “No, it’s really not. I’m… we’re working on that. I’m okay. Boba and I… we’re okay. It’s just… something else happened on that trip. I’ve not… I don’t know how to bring it up to Boba now. It’s been so long. Kinda feels like I missed my chance.”

“Not a good reason, tinker girl.” Fennec grabs a handful of Jawaese fire crisps and stuffs them in her mouth. “If you wanna talk about it, if it bothers you… you gotta. Don’t marry someone without talking everything through. If there’s something you need to talk about, something that’s important to you- Gods, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I’m sure Boba would want to know. He loves you. Don’t keep secrets from him if it’ll make you unhappy in the long run.”

“I’m not!” You know your face is guilt-ridden even without looking in the mirror. “There’s just… one small matter we haven’t talked about. And it feels unfair not to tell him.”

Fennec leans forward in her seat, her eyes twinkling with mischief, though there is genuine concern in them.

“Did you fuck Djarin on the trip?”

“I- what? No! Gods, no, of course I didn’t!”

Fennec shrugs, shoving another handful of crisps into her mouth.

“Didn’t really think you had, but damn that would have been rough, right after getting engaged-“

“…which I didn’t even know,” you mumble. Well, fuck. There it is. Fennec’s eyes go wide, destroying any and all hope you had that she did not hear you.

“You what now?”

You breathe in. You breathe out. You have to talk to someone about this, it has been eating at you for way too long. And maybe… maybe talking it out with Fennec before you go to Boba is not such a bad idea.

“I didn’t know Boba had proposed,” you admit quietly, your cheeks burning as you take in Fen’s incredulous look.

“And how in the Sith hells does that work?” she asks. When she sees the hurt look on your face, she quickly goes on. “I’m not judging you, I’m genuinely curious. How the fuck does one get proposed to without noticing it?”

Your fingers close around the necklace that Boba gave to you, Fennec’s eyes flicking down before studying your face again.

“Oh no. What did that idiot do?”

The expression on her face makes it so much easier to talk about. She seems both amused and vaguely disgusted with Boba’s lack of communication skills. And so you talk and talk and talk. You lay everything out, backtracking from the proposal-that-was-not-really-one to the strange affair between Din and you. You explain everything to her - though your words, at times, seem not enough to capture what was going on. Looking back, you don’t understand how you got into this mess, and still, when you think of Boba’s smile when he wakes up next to you in the morning, it all seems worth it. Finally, you run out of things to say, biting your lip as you look at Fennec’s unmoving face.

She closes her eyes, pinches the bridge of her nose between her fingers, and takes a deep breath.

“That bastard,” she mumbles, raising her gaze to meet yours. You don’t know what to say, so you just shrug. Fennec bursts out laughing.

“That fucking bastard! I can’t- how- fucking hell, that man has not one singular ounce of common sense in his body, does he?”

You stare at her for a minute, processing what all you have told her, and finally, laughter bubbles up in your chest. It bursts out of you like you have been holding it in for months – and maybe that is true. The absurdity of it all, the sheer chaos. You laugh so hard you can barely breathe, clutching to Fennec’s shoulder so you don’t fall off your stool as you erupt in laughter again and again.

Someone clears their throat in the doorway.

“Am I interrupting something?” Boba sounds a little confused, but mostly amused. When you look at him standing there, your heart melts.

“Never,” you say. Fennec giggles wildly, getting up from her seat, but not leaving without grabbing the last bit of your fire crisps.

“You’ll have to pay me back for those!” You call after her. “They’re not easy to find, you know, you’ve gotta drive a hard bargain!”

Your yelling is only met with chuckles as Fennec ducks out the door.

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. You got loads to talk about.” She winks at you ambiguously, and a few seconds later you hear the elevator doors slide shut behind her.

Boba pushes away from the doorway to come stand behind you, strong arms wrapping around your shoulders as he moves his lips against your neck.

“What did she mean by that, princess?”

“Oh, I don’t…” you drift off. The nagging little voice in the back of your head is screaming at you: If not now, when? You bite your lip and gather your thoughts. “Actually, there was something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

Boba pulls back and turns your stool so you are facing him, and you flinch at the terror in his eyes. He looks scared.

“It’s nothing bad,” you quickly add, but the tension that has settled in his shoulders doesn’t leave. You try a different approach.

“Come on, baby. Let’s sit down and-“

“You’re leaving me,” Boba interrupts. You barely recognise his voice, small and scared and lonely. There is nothing of the powerful leader in him now, neither in his voice nor his posture as his shoulders slump. He can’t even look at you.

“What?” The bewilderment in your voice is obvious, but Boba does not seem to notice.

“I was… waiting for this. I thought you might go with Djarin when he left, but I didn’t think- I let myself hope that-“

“Boba!” You cut him off sharply. The edge in your voice makes him look up at you, and the sight of him nearly makes you cry. You never thought he could look so defeated. So resigned to his fate. Stepping forward, you take his hands into yours, your thumbs gliding along the familiar scar tissue in an effort to soothe him.

“Boba, my love, I’m not leaving you. Of course I’m not, why would you even think that?”

“…oh.” He blinks a few times, clearly surprised. “I was- I thought- You were so sad when Din left, and things have been… different, since you came back. I thought… I thought maybe that trip made you realise you don’t love me like you love him.”

Your fingers tighten around his.

“You’re right, Boba. I don’t love you the way I love Din.” Your voice falters when Boba tries to pull his hands from yours but you just grip him tighter. “I love you infinitely more. I love you differently and I love you more than I could ever love him. You are my life, Bob’ika. I love you with my entire being, mind, body and soul. You are everything to me. How could I ever leave you if I cannot imagine a life without you in it?”

Boba looks up at you, properly looks up this time, and you swear there are tears in his eyes.

“Do you mean it?”

Of all the times you have said it, this time feels like the most meaningful.

“I mean it with all my heart, Boba. I love you. Ni… Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum.”

There is a beat when neither of you moves, but then you are scrambling to climb into his lap, Boba’s hands wrapping around you to lift you up and settle on your hips as you slot into place as if that is where the universe meant you to be: Your chest pressed against his, faces so close you can feel his breath against your cheek.

You kiss him then, chastely, a mere peck on his cheek. If you let yourself kiss him now, really kiss him, you will never talk about what you need to talk about.

“I love you, Bob’ika, and… and you’re so fucking stupid,” you whisper.

Boba’s eyebrows draw together, his confusion clearly visible on his face. You grin at the expression on his face.

„I was expecting a different ending to that statement, alor’ika,” he rumbles. You did not expect his reaction to your hasty words to be so soft, and you don’t know how to respond to it. The silence is deafening, until Boba clears his throat. “Well, clearly something is wrong, princess. Is that not what you wanted to talk about?”

Oh. That hits you right in the heart, because he sounds so hurt, like his fucking heart is breaking; a tremble in his voice you never expected to hear, not after you just told him again and again that you loved him.

“What is it, alor’ika?” he mumbles. “What happened that made you pull away from me, was there something beside… beside Kuat? Something beside Djarin that made you change your mind about me?”

The name makes you flinch, and you shift uncomfortably in Boba’s lap. He looks at you, his face so serious you can nearly not bear it.

“Boba.” You can not let him go on, he is breaking your heart, carving sharp fractures into it with each word. Finally, your posture relaxes as you allow yourself to press your face into his warm chest. “Boba, that’s not at all what I meant. I would never leave you. Never. I love you, and only you, I thought I had made that clear, even before we left. Ni cuyi gar, ner kar’ta. That has not changed, no matter what has transpired in the meantime.”

Your tongue stumbles a little over the Mando’a words, but it’s all worth it when Boba looks down at you. There is a sadness that lingers in his eyes, though, an insecurity you have never seen before.

“Then why-“

You push away from him to fixate him with a stern gaze. As much as it hurts you, as much as you want to be touching him and never let go, as much as your body longs for him - as does your mind - you need to clear this up now. You can’t just forget because you want to be held by him. There is no easy way out, not this time. Not if you still want to marry him, and by the Gods you do. You do. You have never wanted anything more. Your voice is measured when you speak.

“Before we left – before Din and I left for the yards… Boba. You proposed to me.”

His confusion only seems to spread at your words, the creases in his brow deepening as he stares back at you.

“And you accepted, alor’ika. Which is why I don’t understand what-“

“You. Proposed to me. To Me, someone who did not grow up on Mandalore, who was not raised by Mandalorian parents, with Mandalorian customs. Who never really learned Mando’a. And you proposed in your mothertongue.”

“And you accepted, what-“ Boba stops himself and you can see the realisation sink in. His eyes go wide, and his hand twitches as if he wants to reach out. You take his hand once again - you can’t stop yourself, you need him to know you’re not actually mad. Not really. Not anymore.

“You didn’t know what it meant,” Boba says quietly.

“I didn’t know what it meant,” you confirm. His hand grips yours tighter.

“How do you know now?”

“Din told me.”

There is a pause. Boba’s eyes shine when he raises his voice.

“Was that before or after you asked me if you could kiss him, alor’ika? You remember, on the way to the yards?”

Oh. Oh no. You had known it was a bad idea then, you knew it, and still you were selfish enough to request it. You have never despised yourself more than you do in that moment, when Boba’s voice breaks as he looks at you, his fingers clamped around yours like it will hurt less if he just keeps holding onto you.

“It was before I asked you,” you sigh, then hurry to explain. “Boba, it’s- it’s complicated. What I wanted to talk to you about today… it has nothing to do with Din. It’s about you and me. Din is only a part of this because he told me and I was so mad. I was so mad, and I hurt him in my anger. I said some things I should not have said, some things I didn’t mean. I had to show him-“

“Show him that you love him?”

Fuck.

“Not like I love you,” you whisper.

“So you’ve said.” Boba’s expression is calm, but there is an urgency in his voice, a need to be reassured. “Explain it to me.”

“Boba-“

“I need to hear it. I need to understand it, or it will break me. Break us.” His voice is rough, and you think you see that tell-tale sheen of unshed tears in his eyes. Quickly, you look away. You can’t cry, not right now. You have to sort this out. Boba’s hand turns your chin gently until you look him in the eyes again. “You needed to talk about the proposal. I’m sorry, alor’ika, I thought you understood what I was saying, I was so sure of it when you looked at me with those beautiful eyes and told me you accepted. I was sure you knew what it meant. I’m sorry there was a misunderstanding, and if I could I would do it all over again. But… Din is interwoven in our story, whether we like it or not, and we need to talk about that too. I didn’t want to put it on you when you came back, not after everything that had happened. But if we are being honest tonight, we need to talk about all that too.”

“Okay,” you say, your voice trembling. Boba’s hand is still in yours, but it feels clammy and cold.

“Explain it to me,” he repeats, unnaturally calm. It’s a façade, you know it, he knows it. A fence, hastily erected where a thick wall used to stand. Before he met you.

“I love you more than words can say,” you begin. “You are- you are everything to me, Boba. I never thought I would feel about anyone the way I do about you. You are ingrained deep in my heart, you are a part of me, and not one I could ever bear to lose. Being apart from you hurts so much I can hardly focus, being with you is the best feeling in the galaxy. I wish I had better words to describe how you make me feel than this, but I don’t. I’m not a great poet, I don’t know what else to tell you. I love you. Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum.”

You pause to collect your thoughts. Boba’s hand squeezes yours; some warmth having returned to his touch. His eyes are gentle as he looks at you, but that underlying pain is still there, and it breaks you to see him like this.

“With Din…” you continue slowly. “With Din, it’s different. He came later, but I think even if I had met him before you, I would not have loved him the way I love you. I care so deeply about him. In the beginning, I thought it was sympathy and friendship, but I think it goes deeper than that. Still… how I feel about him does not in any way compare to how I feel about you, Boba. Losing you would shatter me. But Din- he is gone, and I am fine with that. Mostly. I miss him, I miss him so much. But being away from you was infinitely worse.”

You take a deep breath and try to collect your thoughts before you go on.

“It had to happen… it was clear from the start, I knew that he would have to leave although I let myself forget it at times. We were not meant to be, and we both knew that. I have always, always belonged to you, my love. Even before we both knew it. I’m sad- I lost a friend when Din left for Mandalore, and I’m afraid I have hurt him, even though I did not mean to. But the pain is eased by you, by your presence. I would give up anyone in the world for you, ner kar’ta. I can bear anything so long as I have you. If I lost you there would be no consolation, nothing that could heal me from that pain and that loss. Nothing.”

Boba says nothing for a long time. It makes you nervous, how quiet he is, how he won’t even look at you.

“So… you kissed him as consolation?” he finally asks, some strength having returned to his raspy voice. You breathe in and pick your words carefully.

“…kind of. I had to- I felt so bad for all those things I said, and then he told me he wanted to take his helmet off in front of me, and I knew I would want to kiss him once he did, and I knew if I did that without asking you, then… that’d be cheating. I could never ever do that do you.”

“I would not have forgiven you for that.” Boba’s voice is cold as ice, cutting into you until it hurts. You hold up the shards of your heart and ask him to put them back together.

“I know. I didn’t. If you’d said No, I would never have kissed Din. I belong to you, Boba.”

There is a pause, your heart stumbling and stuttering. Finally, Boba turns to you, the hardness melting from his eyes as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap.

“That, you do,” he mutters. “And I belong to you, alor’ika.”

You can breathe again. You almost start crying in relief, but this conversation is not over. As hard as this was, you have to clear the air entirely, you know that, or you will regret it forever.

“Do you understand now?” you ask. You need to hear Boba say it. “Do you understand how it’s different, how much more you mean to me than Din ever could? And why I still had to do what I did?”

Boba’s hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb stroking along your jaw.

“I think I do. As much as I ever could understand, at least. There is nothing that I would have had to forgive, but I am grateful you explained it to me, alor’ika. It would have festered, it would have poisoned us, this… this jealousy I harboured.”

Hearing him admit it feels like a weight lifting off your chest. So, you were right. Boba had been jealous.

“Are you still jealous?”

Boba looks at you thoughtfully, and it’s like you can feel him reach deep inside his heart so he can bare it to you.

“No. I don’t think I am.” 

You rest your forehead against Boba’s silently. The gesture holds a meaning you don’t have words to express in this moment. A beat passes, your breath finally slowing down. It is out. Boba twitches, and tension returns to your shoulders when you can feel him preparing himself to speak.

“At least…” he breaks the silence. “At least if you meant what you said.”

You lift your head to stare at him.

“I meant everything I said.”

Boba cocks his head, his hand sliding into yours again as his other wanders up your chest to gently tug at the necklace that rests between your breasts.

“I don’t mean just now, princess. I meant… before you left.” He takes a deep breath. “When you said you accepted my proposal. Even if you didn’t know what it meant back then. If I asked you again now, would you still accept?”

He smiles a little self-ironically, and a smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

Oh. Right. There was that. The whole reason this baring of hearts even started.

You want nothing more than to relax into Boba, to finally kiss him and grant yourself the relief you have longed for for so long. But this weighs on you, this silent anger you have been carrying with you ever since you heard Din’s calm voice telling you the words: It’s a proposal.

“My love,” you sigh deeply. “If there ever was a more terrible timing for a misunderstanding because of a cultural and language barrier, I don’t remember it. This was… this was truly unfortunate.”

Boba stiffens underneath your hands, that fear creeping back into his eyes when he looks at you.

“So you do not accept?” His voice does not tremble, but you can hear how much it costs him to keep it steady.

“Oh!” you suddenly understand why he is so anxious. “Oh Boba, of course I do. Of course I accept, my love. I- I want to become your riduur, and for you to become mine. I have never wanted anything more.”

You place your hand against his chest, quietly waiting until his heartbeat calms under your fingertips. Boba opens his mouth to answer, but you shake your head.

“I never wanted to talk about this because it was not what I wanted. I just thought… Before we celebrated, we had to talk about this. None of what we talked about could ever have any influence on my decision. I’m yours for as long as you are mine. I will marry you, as long as you’ll have me, that is certain, and-”

“I will always have you,” Boba murmurs, and you don’t have it in you to scold him for interrupting you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck. “I’ll have you and hold you, keep you and love you forever. As long as you’ll have me.”

“Forever is a long time,” you whisper, and a small smile appears on Boba’s face before he kisses you.

“Forever is barely long enough if I get to spend it with you.”

Previous Chapter ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Next Chapter [coming]

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚❋ ❋ ❋˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Mando'a translations

Ni cuyi gar, ner kar'ta - I am yours, my love. Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum - I love you. Alor'ika - Princess

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚❋ ❋ ❋˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Join my taglist here

ahhhhhhhh enjoy the achey goodness hope you like!

@rescuethewretched @deewithani @thefact0rygirl @clonecyare @rowansparrow @tenderclio @twistedstitcher27 @spaceydragons @maygalodon @samanthacookieone @fennccshand @equalityforcats @ashotofspotchka @levi-llama @fantastic-commander-fox @lackofhonor @a-c-lee @imalovernotahater @ladykatakuri @eelqueen @meabravo @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @corrabell @sharpbarnacle @snarwor @basilbumble @dear-fifi @dollydee28 @snakerune @rexscyarika @misogirl828 @witchklng @shadesofshatteredblue @purgetrooperfox @amyroswell @palpipeen @crowbafett @fett-djarin @cyarbika @damerondala @pinkiemme @kakashibabe02 @adancedivasmom @asaucecoveredsomething @djarrex @rain-on-kamino

[galacticgraffiti]

✶⋆ A quick announcement ⋆✶

G’day my sweethearts,

I’m gonna be obnoxious and self-promote because I’m finally publishing a new chapter of Veman’alor! My beloved Nat @book-of-baba-fett beta’d for me for this chapter and I am incredibly grateful to her because it’s been sooo long since I’ve written the last chapter and I was so unsure.

I’m adding the last few tweaks, going through Nat’s awesome suggestions and proofreading it for the last time, and the chapter should be up later this evening!

I thought I’d let you know- create a little anticip… ation (and also give you the chance to reread the last chapter if you want to and refresh your memory because this break took way longer than I thought it would, my sincerest apologies). I’m so excited to dive back into the story!!

Updates probably won’t be quite as often and Chapters not quite as long as they used to be because I still have a lot going on; but I have missed this little world I created. Thank you everyone for understanding and giving me the time I needed to sort myself out you are angels and I appreciate you all so much! ♥️

UPDATE: Chapter 19 is out now! 💗

Taglist under the cut

@ethenae @adancedivasmom @kakashibabe02 @asaucecoveredsomething @kik51199 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @mando-amando @gotomarvelgal @muffledgorillaviolence @goddessofsprings @elegantduckturtle @samanthacookieone @imalovernotahater @littlepossss @thefact0rygirl @corrabell @nomercyforthewarrior @msfett @ashotofspotchka @milf-obi-wan-kenobi @hayley-the-comet @ladykatakuri @deewithani @meabravo @fivesarctrooper @rowansparrow @sithdjarins @daore @spacehooters @perpetual-fangirl900 @amcheeken @pinkiemme @echoskama @maygalodon @ittybittykylo @holding-on-to-starwars

special mention to @rescuethewretched because I know you've been rereading the series hehe and I'm so excited that you are!! ♡

[galacticgraffiti]

Ask me Anything (about Veman’alor)

G’day my beautiful little lemon cream meringues! I have been on semi-hiatus lately just because life got a lot to deal with and I didn’t really feel like writing.

To get back to business and motivate myself, I thought I’d do a little AMA about Veman’alor! The series is so near and dear to my heart, and since we are slowly nearing the end, I feel like this is as good a time as any to hear from you all.

So: give me thoughts, feedback, questions, your favourite lines, favourite chapter, something you would have done differently… whatever you feel like. I am so excited to hear from you all! 💗

Many thanks to my beloved Vee @thefact0rygirl for the beautiful moodboard I still think about this so much it’s so pretty.

✨ Slide into my inbox ✨

tagging some moots I know have been following the series with ✨great interest✨

@rowansparrow @mando-amando @baba-fett @thesithformerlyknownaskenobi @fivesarctrooper @rescuethewretched @alorika @maygalodon @solidago-sempervirens @corrabell @kakashibabe02 @ethenae @damerondala @meabravo @clonecyare

[galacticgraffiti]

⋇⋆✦ Veman'alor Announcement ✦⋆⋇

Hello my beautiful plum puffs!

In the spirit of getting into the mood, I thought I'd do another AMA about Veman'alor!

I had tons of fun with the last one, and now that I'm rereading the story (more on that in the next paragraph), I would love to hear thoughts, guesses, favourite parts, even things you had hoped might go differently... So send in thoughts, thots, suggestions, actual questions… whatever you would like!

I am also taking the day (quite possibly the next few days to be honest) to do some minor edits to the chapters of Veman'alor I have posted - things like grammar, typos, odd wording, that kind of thing.

I know it has been quite a while since I posted, and I'll be honest, I have not felt particularly motivated to continue the story. Partly because it is so long and my brain has refused to remember all of it (partly because of the unspeakably bad writing of TBOBF not even Tem's wonderful acting and love of the character could save). I'm going through this editing process as a way to motivate myself to re-read all of my chapters and get in the mood to continue the story.

I will be reblogging the edited version of each chapter, but not tagging my taglist! If you see the story on your dash, that is why it's there. I'll tag those chapters with #veman'alor edits.

I'm looking forward to continuing the story, and I genuinely am so grateful for all your patience. I cherish you all. ♡

Taggies for some people I think might be interested below

@corrabell @rowansparrow @rescuethewretched @baba-fett @maygalodon @ashotofspotchka @thesithformerlyknownaskenobi @solidago-sempervirens @misogirl828 @cyarbika @kakashibabe02 @pinkiemme @rain-on-kamino @djarrex @ficsbynight @mando-amando @meabravo @spaceydragons @deewithani @tenderclio @equalityforcats @basilbumble @snarwor @damerondala

[galacticgraffiti]

I’m seeing people binge-reading Veman’alor in my notes and honestly… I am so living for it. Thank you for making my day better I appreciate each and every one of you so fucking much.

[felinaone]

If you like Boba Fett (and mando) you really have to read this story! It's just *Cheff kiss*

I remember when I first found it i couldn't stop reading it. 👀✨ (And i do apologize for not knowing how to use Tumblr at the time, now that i know I'll try to support as best as i can :)

Also keep in mind this fanfiction is for 18+ so if you are still a minor please avoid entering on the blog as it is against the writer rules, thank you. <33)

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Veman'alor (25) ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

!!! NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI !!!

Rating: Explicit Wordcount: 4k CW: emotional smut, dirty talk, check-ins, reassurances, so many feels, PiV sex, praise

A/N: Thank you always and forever to my darling @baba-fett for beta'ing for me, for being patient and wonderfully encouraging and always so so nice. I always look forward so much to your commentary! ❥

✦⋆ Series Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ Main Masterlist ⋆✦

🙤 · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · 🙦

Chapter 25 - Feelings, Forevers

You wake up tangled in each other, Boba’s mouth pressed in the crook of your neck, your leg wrapped around his hip.

These quiet moments are the most at peace you have felt since you left for the Yards, and you take your time to enjoy them. Boba doesn’t shift, still fast asleep, quietly holding you even in his dreams. He breathes slow and steady, the warm air escaping his lungs leaving a damp spot on your shoulder.

You try your best not to stir, not to wake him from his slumber. Last night was intense: all those emotions boiled down into one cataclysmic outburst - his jealousy, your trauma, the renewal of his proposal and finally, your acceptance of it. That thought does make you twitch.

He proposed. And you accepted. Officially, this time.

You’re engaged.

Well, technically you’ve been engaged for nearly two months now, but it never really felt like it. Not until now. There was too much going on, so many things left unsaid, feelings bottled up and thoughts never finished. But now…

Though you had resolved to let Boba sleep, the rush that flows through you makes you forget any and all inhibitions. You have to wake him, see him, talk to him. You have to look at him and know that he thinks about forever, just as you do. Gently, you trace his soft jaw with your finger. Boba grumbles something, rubbing his nose against your neck, and continues snoring quietly.

“Boba,” you sing softly. “Ner kar’ta, ner veman’alor… wake up, my love.”

“Hmph.” The sound he lets out is so indignant it makes you snort.

“Boba,” you whisper again, your voice getting so giddy you can barely hide the excitement that is rushing through you with every heartbeat.

“Whaddayawant?” Boba’s voice is rough with sleep, barely understandable. A smile spreads across your face when you shift to your side, pressing up even closer against his strong, steady body.

“Bob’ika,” you mumble softly, revelling in the smooth tap of the consonants that make up his mother tongue. Finally, brown eyes open to stare at you, drowsy with sleep but so full of love that you have to look away before you start crying. Boba blinks like a lazy cat, licking his lips and yawning before cracking his neck.

“What is it, ner kar’ta?” He sounds marginally more awake now, though his voice is still laced with sleep.

You take a deep breath. In… and out. Boba looks at you intently, waiting for you to voice what has been sitting on your tongue. Your voice shakes when you speak up.

“We’re engaged.”

He blinks, one time, two times. His fingers twitch against your skin before his hand sneaks around you to wrap around your waist and pull you in. You yelp and giggle at the same time, and a boyish grin flashes across his scarred features.

“That, we are,” he murmurs. His nose follows a path along the side of your neck, and when his tongue darts out to lick along the sensitive skin, you moan quietly.

“We are engaged,” you repeat, your voice breathy as he continues his ministrations. “We’re gonna get married. You. And me.”

“Mhh.” Boba kisses up your jaw and pauses, his mouth hovering above yours. “You and me, forever, alor’ika.”

Forever.

The word makes you shiver, and Boba laughs quietly. The sound settles deep in your bones, so familiar and yet so new. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him laugh like this, so purely happy. 

“Forever,” you agree, pushing yourself up until your lips meet his. He melts against you, strong arms framing your face as he rolls the two of you over until he is hovering above you. You stare at him and it hits you.

This man is yours. Yours, always and forever. He declared it himself.

And suddenly, nothing can go fast enough. You buck your hips as you sling your arms around Boba’s neck to pull him into a needy kiss. He laughs but goes along with it, grinding his own hips down to meet yours.

“My princess… so impatient. Gods, I’ve missed you.” He stops for a second, fumbling for words, his hands already buried in your hair. “Not that I- you needed time, and I get that-“

“Shh.” You interrupt him gently, placing your finger on his soft lips. “I know what you meant. And… I missed you too. So much.”

The kiss that follows is gentler, sweeter, but the desire that lies beneath this layer of care seeps through and burns hotter than any urgency ever could.

You push at Boba’s chest, revelling in the feel of his muscles beneath your fingers. He follows your guidance, rolling onto his back with a groan and pulling you on top of him until you are straddling his lap, your bare pussy pressed against his hardening cock.

“Mhh,” he sighs, his eyes clouded over as he stares up at you. “What a sight for sore eyes you are, princess.”

You smile and bend down to press your lips to his again. Your hips start rolling against him all on their own, and the sounds that escape Boba only fan the fire in your belly.

Strong hands settle on your hips, gently guiding the pace of your movements. Your eyes slip shut as you let yourself sink into the moment, feeling everything at once. Gods, you’ve missed this - the feeling of Boba against you like this, the taste of his lips and the closeness that’s so intrinsic to these moments. A closeness it has taken you months to find again.

One of Boba’s hands leaves your side, travelling up a slow path from your navel, through the valley of your breasts and up to your chin. When he lifts your face, you open your eyes to find him staring at you with more seriousness in his eyes than you had expected.

“Are you ready for this?” His voice is impossibly soft, and you can feel it in your heart that if you said ‘yes’ only to satisfy him, he would know.

So you take your time, listening deep inside yourself to find the small voice that has made you shy away from his touches through no fault of his; that has kept you from being fully relaxed even though you never stopped trusting him. But the voice is not a scream anymore. It has lost its overwhelming power, and instead, it’s a mere whisper, curled up in the corner, present only if you look for it. You cannot ignore it entirely, but it has loosened its threatening grip on you.

You wet your lips. Boba’s gaze never leaves you.

“I’m ready.” Your voice is strong and steady. “Just… go slow. And- don’t be so rough, okay?”

“Okay.” Boba nods earnestly. Stilling the movement of his hands on you, simply resting his hands on your hips to fixate you there. “And you promise you’ll tell me if anything is the matter, yeah? Even the smallest thing.”

“I promise,” you whisper.

“Good girl.”

That makes you shudder, your nipples perking up at the small piece of praise. It has been so long. Boba chuckles, the hunger sneaking its way back into his eyes, though his hands are patient, slow, and gentle.

“Still know how to get you.”

“‘course you do,” you mumble. “I’m yours, always and forever. And don’t you ever forget it.”

Boba’s eyes travel along your body, pausing on the way your chest heaves when he grips you a little tighter, fixating on the tendon in your neck when you let your head fall back as you start moving against him once more, and finally coming to rest on the necklace that lays between your breasts.

“How could I ever forget?” he whispers. “Even if I forgot all other things, that would still be left: That you are mine and I am yours.”

The fire in his gaze when your eyes meet his takes your breath away. You lean down at the same moment he sits up, your chest now pressed against his as his arms wrap around you to hold you tight.

“I love you,” you breathe, at the same time as he utters, “Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum.”

Everything stills for just a moment, and then you both move so fast it barely registers: You raise yourself up, your hands on Boba’s broad shoulders, and Boba’s hand guides you down onto his cock, softly, gently, making sure you do not go too fast.

“Fuck,” you laugh breathlessly, “Fuck, should’ve prepped- should’ve had your fingers first-“

“Is it too much?“ Boba’s voice is worried, and you can feel him starting to pull back, so you quickly shake your head.

“No- no, fuck, I just… forgot what it felt like to take you like this. Stars, you’re so big- gotta go slow, my love, help me go slow.”

Your legs are shaking, but you want this. You need this, you need to feel connected to him, need him to know that you’re okay, that it took you some time, but you’re okay. And that he has been there through it all. You need him to know - you need to show him that you want him to touch you again, that you missed him. That you never stopped loving him, not even in the darkest days, because he was always there, and he has never hurt you.

Boba’s hands hold you steady as you take him, sinking down inch by inch, breathing through the feeling of being so full so suddenly. Your knees buckle slightly, but Boba is there to hold you, to make sure you don’t get hurt.

“I love you.” Now that you’ve said it once, you can’t stop. The words fall from your lips like a prayer, and Boba repeats them back to you, sometimes in Basic, sometimes in his mother tongue, never faltering, never stumbling. Finally, when you feel so full you could nearly burst, his thighs touch the back of yours, and you relax, inhaling deeply.

“Oh gods.” You are not sure how you’re still breathing, yet here you are. Boba’s fingers grip you a little tighter.

“You alright, princess?”

“I… yeah. Yes.” You nudge his nose with yours, settling your weight on his thighs and relaxing into the familiarity of being filled by him. “I promise, Boba. Are you?”

Your question takes him by surprise - you can see it in his eyes.

“Better than alright,” he finally answers, his voice rough. “Got my princess right here with me, and she looks so pretty like this, so pretty sitting on my cock.”

He locks eyes with you, deliberately choosing his next words.

“My future wife, all filled up by me.”

Oh, Maker.

“Fuck,” you whimper, your pussy clenching around him so hard it makes his legs twitch beneath you. “Fuck, say that again.”

“Mhh,” Boba hums, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Which part?”

You pull together all your strength to stare him down, in spite of the fact that your cunt is still fluttering and your legs are shaking slightly, just from the feeling of him inside you.

“I dare you,” you say, proud your voice only shakes ever so slightly. “I dare you to tease me right now, future husband.”

The noise Boba lets out is indescribable, a mix between pleasure and the agony that comes from unbridled lust that cannot easily be fulfilled.

“Maker,” you moan when he dives forward to wrap his lips around your nipple, sucking gently, swirling his tongue until you can’t think anymore. He keeps his hips perfectly still, and in a far corner of your mind you admire his self-control, but soon, even the last coherent thought has left your brain. You moan and arch your back, chasing his touch as words spill from your lips until you are nearly sobbing from relief and pleasure.

“Fuck- fuck you feel so good Boba… I love you so much, I’ve missed you so much. Thank you for being patient, thank you for- fuck- Gods I love you, love you- want you- want- more- more of that, please, please… Fuck, you want me to say it again? My future husband? My veman’alor, my love, my everything-”

Boba pulls back to fixate you with an accusatory stare.

“Now who’s teasing?” His voice is rough, but there is a smile in his eyes before he presses his forehead to yours. Kov’nyn. You return the gesture, holding steady against the soft pressure of his head. You stay like that for a while, eyes closed as you let yourself sink into this perfect moment. Finally, Boba pulls back and buries his face in the crook of your neck, hands pulling you closer.

His breath tickles and you giggle, gently testing the footing you can find on the mattress before you start rolling your hips against him. You start slow, still a little overwhelmed with how full your pussy feels. It’s been long since you got to feel him inside of you, and no matter how wet you are, it is still a stretch to fit him. With every movement though, he settles more inside you, thick and heavy. You breathe deeply, grounding yourself in the moment, willing yourself not to go too fast, not to get greedy, not to mess this up by hurrying too much.

“That’s it, love,” Boba’s deep voice encourages you. “That’s it, fuck yourself on my cock, little one. Make it feel good, just the way you like it. I’m here for you, I’m here. I’ve got you, I’ll never let you go again, I’ll always be here for you, to protect you, to love you- kar’tayli gar, alor’ika, ner kar’ta, ner jorbe shereshoy- ni kar’tayli gar… You’re perfect, you know that? My perfect girl, just like that. You’re doing so well for me, being so good, so patient. I know you want more, little one, I know. Soon, soon you’ll get anything you want. Take what you need, princess, I’m right here…”

You don’t speed up, as much as your body wants you to. Instead, you will yourself to keep doing what you are doing; taking your time, relishing in the way he feels, consciously focusing on the way his lips taste, how the light stubble of his greying beard feels against your skin. Your breaths are quiet, but your moans all the louder, and Boba is everywhere. Your skin smells like him when you start to sweat, your legs burning from keeping the movement up. He helps you, shifting slowly, making the angle more comfortable for you until your eyes roll back in your head just from the small movement of grinding down.

When you open your eyes, you find Boba staring at you, his gaze fixated on your belly. Without thinking, you grab his hand and press it to your stomach so he can feel himself moving inside you.

It’s like you can see every coherent thought leave Boba’s brain, and you would laugh at him if it did not make you feel the same way – the feeling of him filling you so perfectly while you bathe in the glorious thought that you will get to have this forever, until the end of your lives.

He mutters praises, filthy praises wrapped in the most romantic words you have ever heard from his lips; and you lose count of the times he tells you that he loves you. A time where he could not tell you how he felt now feels ridiculously far away, with his gravelly voice whispering in your ear, and your own responding in kind.

Words cease for a while, as both of you get lost in the sensations of each other: Your lips on his, Boba’s hand grabbing your ass while the other still lays on your belly, his breath in your mouth and your tits rubbing against the coarse hair on his scarred chest every time you move.

Slowly, steadily, your pulse speeds up, and so do your movements. Your thoughts are hazy, but Boba is here to make sure you take care, make sure you don’t falter.

“You wanna go faster, alor’ika?” he asks, out of breath and eyes unfocused. You can’t do much more but nod, your whispered ‘Yes’ faint and breathless, but audible. Boba’s eyes bear into yours, and you nod once more, making sure he knows that you mean it.

“Go on then,” he groans, fingers tightening on your hip, guiding you as you move faster. “Go on, pretty girl, take what you need. Give me all you got, make yourself feel good. Wanna feel your little pussy clench around me, wanna make you feel so good- so good, you feel so good, you have no idea- fuck, yes, yes- just like that, there you go, good fucking girl-”

Your eyes have slipped shut again at some point, and opening them takes all the strength you have left, but you want to look at him, look into his eyes, see the love that he feels for you and let him see yours.

He kisses you when you look at him, soft and open-mouthed, never interrupting the rhythm of your movements with his actions. You melt into him, mumbling his name between kisses.

When you finally pull back to catch your breath, Boba’s eyes fixate on the necklace that rests between your tits. The symbol of his love, the symbol of his commitment to you and yours to him. You can feel him shudder beneath your touch, and his eyes glow when he looks at you.

“I love you, princess.”

Your cheeks ache from smiling when you answer him.

“I love you too.”

His eyes don’t leave you, mesmerised by the reflection of the early morning light in the metal of your necklace. The heavy pendant bounces when you speed up your movements even more, desperate for relief. Both of you are breathing heavily, and you can feel the heat in your cheeks from the exertion, but you’re so close that the only thing harder than to keep going would be to stop.

Neither of you were chasing ecstasy when you started this, both more than content to just feel the other, to hold and be held, to feel more complete than you have in weeks, made whole by pieces of the other that you get to share. You are content, but the feeling of him inside you has fanned the flames of your desire until it feels like you are alight with it.

Boba tenses a little more with each roll of your hips. Each time you sink down, you can feel him struggle to hold back, caged in by his desire to make you feel good first, as he has always done. You turn your head to the side, your lips caressing his cheek as you speak, and though you can barely breathe, your mouth forms words for you.

“It’s okay, Boba,” you murmur against his hot skin. “It’s okay, you can let go. Don’t hold back for me, ner kar’ta, you always make me feel so good, now it’s my turn… let me make you feel good, let me make you cum, okay? Please, my love- fuck- please, I wanna feel you cum inside me, wanna feel it, feel myself leak with you, claimed by you-”

“Fuck,” Boba grits out. “No, want you to cum first, alor’ika-”

“I always get to cum first,” you interrupt him gently. “You always take such good care of me, my love, please- please just let me make you feel good, that’s all I want right now, wanna feel you cum because I love you- I love you, gods, I love you, Boba, I’m yours- always and forever, yeah? Cum for me baby, cum inside me- cum for your future wife, veman’alor, wanna feel you fill me up… fill your princess the way she deserves-”

That’s the exact moment Boba’s composure bursts. You can feel his cock twitch inside you, feel the strain in his neck when he throws his head back to finally grind up into you, fucking you deep and slow. You moan unabashedly, lost in the feeling of him, chasing not only your own pleasure but the satisfaction of making him feel good. You mumble his name, over and over again, begging him to cum inside you, until Boba gives in to his desire.

His hips buck  as he spills himself deep inside you, hands digging into your hips to hold you down so not a drop goes to waste. You don’t stop moving entirely, you can’t, it feels too good. Instead, you slow your hips to meet his shallow thrusts, letting him fuck his cum deeper inside you until he begins to soften. 

Slowly, you lift yourself up, swallowing thickly at the drops of cum that leak out of you. Boba’s eyes follow your every movement though they are barely open. For one moment, you consider cleaning up, taking care of him as he usually does of you, but you cannot bring yourself to leave his side right now. So, you settle in his lap again, ignoring the awkward squelching sounds you make when you adjust yourself in his lap, settling in so your chest is pressed against his, your nose nudging his chin. Your voice is soft when you speak, with a slight rasp as evidence of all the moans he has pulled from you just now.

“I love you.”

Boba twists so he can look down at you, a small smile on his lips.

“I love you too, princess.”

You sigh contentedly, thoroughly satisfied with this whole situation. He is so soft. So comfortable. Your future husband, right here, all yours.

Boba’s fingers dance along your shoulders, painting patterns on your skin.

“You’ll have to let me make this up to you, you know? Gotta take care of my pretty girl, can’t have her think that I’m selfish after all.”

“Mhh,” you mumble, yawning a little. “Nothing to make up for, my love. I’m quite satisfied.”

“Hmph.” Boba grumbles. A pause. Then: “What if I told you it was for selfish purposes?”

“Hm?” You barely raise your face from his chest, too comfortable in the position you have claimed on him, draped across him like a weighted blanket. Boba squints down at you.

“What if I don’t want to make you cum so you can feel good? What if I wanna do it to make myself feel good, huh? What then?”

You blink a few times, your brain too tired to compute his warped logic. Boba just continues.

“What if I like eating your pussy because I like seeing you all worked up for me? Because I like the way you taste? Would you forbid me that? Forbid me from seeing my… riduur… my future wife, my girl all pretty and fucked out for me?”

You consider that for a moment, blushing in spite of yourself.

“...no,” you begrudgingly admit. “But only if you promise that it’s not because you feel guilty. You’ve nothing to feel guilty for. I just wanted to make you feel good. Wanted to… feel you. That’s all I needed.”

“Alright.” You can hear the smile in Boba’s voice. “Acceptable condition.”

The two of you fall silent for a moment. Boba shifts beneath you, and you stretch out, rolling over until you are laying on your side, one arm and one leg slung across Boba’s broad torso, your face buried against his side. The sheets smell like him, and you inhale his scent deeply.

“Not right now, though, mkay?” you yawn. “I’m… mhh… too tired.”

Boba’s arm wraps around you and pulls you closer, a soft kiss is placed on your forehead.

“Whatever you want, ne’riduur.”

You smile.

“Thank you, my love.”

Boba’s quiet, happy laughter follows you into your dreams.

Previous Chapter ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Next Chapter [coming]

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚❋ ❋ ❋˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Mando'a translations Ner kar'ta, ner veman'alor - my love, my king alor'ika - princess ni kar'tayli gar darasuum - I love you kar’tayli gar, alor’ika, ner kar’ta, ner jorbe shereshoy- ni kar’tayli gar - I love you, princess, my love, my 'reason to live' - I love you ne'riduur - my wife (can also mean 'my husband! mando'a is genderneutral :))

here have some emotional support sex in these hard times (all kidding aside, I hope you all are doing well and that you enjoy this chapter!)

@cyarbika @deewithani @ficsbynight @kote-wan @ariadnes-red-thread @rescuethewretched @twistedstitcher27 @asaucecoveredsomething @kakashibabe02 @writingbylee @purgetrooperfox @basilbumble @witchklng @lackofhonor @ashotofspotchka @sailor-blossom @misogirl828 @amyroswell @darkjedipoptart @pinkiemme @sleepingsun501 @fett-djarin @samanthacookieone @tortor-mcgee @corrabell @lady--kenobi @elegantduckturtle @felinaone @palpipeen @wild-karrde @kik51199 @sharpbarnacle @obeydontstray @rain-on-kamino @nomercyforthewarrior @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @thefact0rygirl @everythingyouwanted @equalityforcats @ulchabhangorm @damerondala @tachyon-girl @rintheemolion @pickleprickle

[galacticgraffiti]

Hi! Do you have any updates about the new chapter of Veman’alor? Thanks! Love your fics ❤️

anon,

i am answering this only because i am working on the chapter right now. I know you meant no harm, and i appreciate the kind words, but i cannot stress enough how much i - and other writers, as far as i know, HATE being asked for updates.

it puts so much unnecessary pressure on us. I am working on it, and if i don't post that means i haven't had the time or motivation to finish it. i know it has been two months since the last update, believe me I KNOW but being asked about updates does not make it go any quicker. it just makes me feel horrible and guilty for not managing to update earlier.

none of this is directed at you as an individual per se, it is more of a general statement. i'm glad people are still interested and still following the story, but whenever someone asks about updates im just like...

[galacticgraffiti]

Veman'alor is something else. Goddamn. Keep up the amazing writing! I look forward to reading!

Thank you sooo much that’s so sweet!! This means a lot and comments like this always give me so much motivation 💗

[galacticgraffiti]

okay gala i have Arrived with a first question now that i’m a good halfway through my reread of veman’alor. i might hit u with a few of them as i continue through the rest of the chapters.

this one tho comes from reading i think one of my favorite parts, which is the first half of chapter 14. how do you think boba felt (emotions wise, we all know he was hurting physically) as his sweet girl is crying over having to hurt him to help him? it’s such a poignant moment and i love it so much, i just wanted to see what you had in mind for what was going through his head then.

Part of the AMA about Veman'alor ❥ If you want to send in questions, you still can!

I love this question because I loved writing that chapter. It felt like an important moment between the two - for Boba to trust her so completely, and for her to be let into his world a bit more and realise that he is not invincible. Also one of the first times he uses alor'ika! And, especially since I wrote this way before the show came out, I wanted to talk a bit about the tuskens and Boba's connection to them. I wanted to get more into it in Mirde Be Mand'alor, but I haven't gotten round to that yet (I truly apologise for the long wait).

In my head, it fucking killed him. The knowledge that helping him was hurting her caused him pain on an entirely different level than any physical wound ever could. And to see her cry even though he tried his hardest to stay silent and not show any signs of the pain was just terrible. Still, I don't think he regretted letting her help, in spite of all this.

It is, to me, one of the first moments Boba truly and consciously thinks about what all this means, why he is showing her that side of himself, how much he trusts her. And since Boba is a man of actions more than an man of words, I think it is the first part of his love confession.

[galacticgraffiti]

Do you prefer writing for Boba or Din? (I ask because you have Mirde Be Manda’lor AND Veman’alor and I’m curious)

Part of the AMA about Veman'alor ❥

Ahh that's such an interesting question!

I think I prefer Boba simply because he is the character I feel the most comfortable with; not only because I (as most of us probably) know so much of his lore, but also because I have made up a very specific version of him in my head that I try to adhere to, and that people - thankfully - seem to like and agree with.

I love his character dearly - from the actual actor, to the highly interesting lore, the Mandalorian roots he has whether he lives by The Way or not - it is all deeply fascinating to me. Also morally grey characters are just my jam and a ton of fun to write, and I feel like Boba definitely tends more towards a darker side than Din, for example, does.

I love writing Din too, because the premise of him is so similar to Boba, but he is still just so very different. And I like that he is an angsty space dad; I like making him sad even though it hurts me. It gives me the opportunity to explore a different side of not only the story, but also of myself as a writer, so I relish that.

Still, I think Boba (aside from obviously Fennec at this point) will always be my favourite to write.