#boba fett prompt

[acatalystrising]

As fellow member of the Church of Boba Fett ♥ May I please have anything for the song 'Sunflower' - Post Malone.

Can be of Boba, can be anyone. No context (even tho I break this rule a lot lmao), any style, any pair, can be a wip, or just write it as you feel it, hear it, vibe to it. Anything. Go! ♥

*casually vibes* ♥

GAAHH my Boba bestie this took far too long to answer, and I am SO sorry you had to wait! Just had a death in the family so I had to take some time away to process. But I’m back with a lovely one shot that I had a blast writing!

The Church of Boba Fett needs as much content of our beloved green tin can man as possible, and I hope this was worth the wait 💚🖤

Boba Fett knew you wanted him.

It wasn’t a matter of an overly inflated ego on his part or a lack of obvious flirtation on yours. To put it simply, you were pure sunlight, something brilliant and blazing in his often bloodstained world of crime and order. Something untarnished by the very violence he’d been born into.

The violence he’d committed.

It wasn’t even so simple to say he didn’t deserve you. Yes, that would be true, however dramatic a statement in his opinion, but there was something else. Something that itched in the back of his brain even as he watched you from atop his throne, seated near the back of the room, engaged in conversation with several people who, from his perspective, would easily kill you for the right price.

He cared for you, truly, truly cared. And Boba knew that logically, the best way to protect you was either to send you away, or claim you as his own. None would dare lay a finger on you if you were his. He’d ensure it.

But still, he hesitated.

At the end of the day, it was a simple truth. A manacle over the proverbial ankle, truths clamping down to tight they might as well have choked him.

You were fiery, passionate. Full of vigor and sparks, so capable. But you were also innocent. Untouched by the bloodshed he knew like breathing. And he could not, in good conscience, pull you into a world you were never meant to be a part of.

He sighed, his breath hot and weighty on his lips. His armor suddenly felt too heavy on his chest. Even heavier as the hours bled to the evening, visitors finally slipping out of the throne room for the evening. But not you - as stubborn as Fennec in so many ways, who made her point quite painfully made via a raised eyebrow, followed by a smirk, then her final wink as she left the room.

Boba was very grateful for his helmet when you stood, shyly ambling toward his throne under the guise of cleaning, nimble fingers picking up pieces of trash that littered the ground. For some reason it made him angry. You were too pretty to lower yourself so.

Damn it. He was too attached.

“Don’t worry about that, mesh’la.” His voice cut through the room, tone a tad harsher than he’d intended. “Leave it for the droids.”

You blinked, finally looking up at him, then glancing away in an unsuccessful attempt to hide your blush. Stars, you were like a sunflower. Radiant, ethereal, and too perfect for his broken hands to sully.

“Okay,” you dipped your head in acknowledgment, still hovering on no move feet, as if waiting for something. Disguising with with a nervous dusting of the throne’s steps.

Words hovered unspoken, thick as the tension in the air. Worry wove into your brows like a sudden change of weather, tension of an oncoming storm. Did you think he wasn’t interested? How could he let you down easy? Tell you that he was interested, but…

But, what?

Kriffing damn it. Boba Fett was afraid. Afraid of hurting you, of marring your sunshine. Of not being good enough for you.

“Well, it’s getting late. If you need anything, just let me know.” You dipped your head in a goodbye that came across too hasty, clothing rustling as you went to flee.

The sight made everything in Boba revolt.

“Wait.” The word slipped from his mouth before he could stop himself. You spun on your heels, expression undeniably hopeful. Oh gods, this was too much. “We need to talk, little one.”

You blushed at the moniker, but swallowed hard as you approached.

“I…”

“You don’t have to do this.” You cut him off with surprising bravado, hands clenched at your sides until they were shaking. “You don’t have to let me down easy. I’m not stupid, neither are you. Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done: letting me work here, protecting me, giving me a chance to get back on my feet. Nothing has to change. I’m…used to it.”

Boba blinked behind his helmet, shock rippling through him like a tidal wave. Stars, she was more perceptive than he thought. There was a strength to her he hadn’t previously seen, and also…an old wound. Maker, he’d been a kriffing jerk.

“What,” he kept his tone soft, lacking the harsh edge it normally carried. “Are you used to?”

It was your turn to blink. Clearly, you weren’t expecting the question.

“I…” you nervously crossed your arms, chewing the inside of your cheek. “I’m…used to…being ignored. People don’t look at me and see someone worth pursuing. Just,” you looked up, meeting his unseen gaze, “well, just someone who is useful. And that’s okay, you know. I’m happy here, truly, and I don’t need anything else other than-“

“Easy there,” he gently interrupted your rambling, the words softer than even he thought possible. You blinked again, but pointedly refused to meet his gaze. “Look at me, sweet girl.”

After a moment’s hesitation, you obeyed, and something in him constricted in pain when he saw the tears forming in your eyes. Boba chose his next words carefully.

“I‘ve never ignored you. Always noticed your smile.” He removed his helmet with a sigh, meeting your gaze with his own. “You deserve someone as bright and lovely as you - someone who can usher you into new depths of love and happiness. I’m broken, scarred, a killer…”

“You think that would stop me?” Your voice was surprisingly strong despite the tear that slipped down your cheek. “You think I haven’t already thought of that? Boba…I know who you are. What you are. And that’s why…I find you so endearing. Why I want to be with you.”

You thought him endearing? Boba could barely believe it, if not for the sincerity in your tone. He fell silent, pondering your words, and you stood there, braving his silence, wiping the tear away with a trembling finger.

Finally, at long last, Boba caved. He couldn’t hold back any longer, or deny you what he felt you both knew to be true. And he’d left you waiting long enough.

“Come here, little one,” he held out an arm like a white flag, and you didn’t hesitate to approach. He guided you onto his lap, holding you close against his chest, and felt you relax against him. “This okay?”

You nodded eagerly, curling closer, fingers clutching the fabric at his shoulder.

“I want you, mesh’la.” His voice was a low rumble as he caressed your cheek, making you shiver. “If you’ll have me.”

“I want you too,” your affirmation was like a song in his ears. “I want to be yours. Only yours.”

“Then you will be mine, little sunflower.” He ran a hand though your hair, then your jaw, fingertips lingering on your chin and lifting your lips to his. “Always.”

[iszapizza]

Darthfett prompts pt 1!

A holo call for @sugarpsalms !

“it worked on padme right?” probably vader

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Ok, this is so fun! Congrats again!

I'll pick...Hunter (shocked, I'm sure.)

How about: "I don't think I've ever seen you smile" and "Oh, don't be cute"/"Wait, did you just say that I'm cute?"

Thanks!!

Carol (@clonethirstingisreal)

Thank you @clonethirstingisreal - I hope you love this Carol, it actually brought a smile to my face as I was writing it.

Enjoy, love oo.

One Meal

Warnings: knife flipping, allusions to loss, slight angst, fluff. I think that's it, if I miss any please let me know.

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Hunter flicked his knife back and forth in between his fingers, as he contemplated the next mission. Things were … different, since you joined. Not good or bad … just different. It been about six months, and yes, the Marauder was cleaner and didn’t have that lingering smell anymore, and yes, the meals had gotten better too, because you refused to just eat the ration bars the GAR provided. And … okay, it was nice to see your smiling face in the morning, compared to the miserable faces of his brothers. 

Yet, he still felt awkward around you. He wanted to laugh with you, like you could so easily with Wrecker, to have deep discussion, like you could with Tech, even philosophical discussions like you did with Echo. Hell, he’d be happy if he could just do target practice with you, like you did with Crosshair, but … every time he opened his mouth, he was curt, short tempered, and on edge. 

It wasn’t even your fault, it was just him. 

He stood from his seat, heading down the ramp and taking in a breath of fresh air. You were cooking dinner, doing your best to teach Wrecker that just because salt tasted good, didn’t mean he had to put in a whole table spoon full. 

It made him laugh a little as you tried to explain in your most patient voice possible, that you’d fix the dinner and Wrecker could go help Tech or Crosshair with something else. It was your polite way of saying ‘go away.’

Hunter tried but he couldn’t stop the smile on his lips, as he walked over to you.

"I don't think I've ever seen you smile" you pointed out as he walked up to you. “What’s got you so happy?”

“Oh, I just saw how you were very tactful with Wrecker. It was funny.”

You shrugged trying to fight back your own laughter as you tried to fix the stew, by adding more water, “He tried. I’m grateful he’s willing to learn.”

“Need help? I’m not completely inept when it comes to cooking.”

You looked a little surprised when he asked, not that his offering to help was a real shock, it was the fact you realized this was the first time you two had a proper conversation. “Um … yeah, if you don’t mind using your handy dandy knife there, that you like flipping around so much, to cut up some of these veggies so I can add them, that’d be great.”

Hunter chuckled at your description, as he nodded, taking a seat and getting to work, “Where did you learn to cook?” He asked, hoping to get to know you a little better.

“My mom and grandmother. They were adamant that I learn how to feed an army if I ever needed to …” you chuckled, “I had a big family, back home. Usually there would be around twenty of us for dinner.”

“Twenty? Did you have a lot of siblings?”

“No. It was just me. But I had uncles, aunts, cousins, friends, neighbours, anyone and everyone who needed a meal could always come to our place for dinner. We never turned away anyone in need of a good meal.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It was …” a sadness passed your face, as you thought back to what had once been your home, until the Separatist droid army showed up, and destroyed everything you had held so dear. 

Hunter saw your smile slip, it pained him to see that you had been through so much, although he hadn’t heard about it directly from you, he did overhear what had happened when you were talking with Tech. “Well we appreciate all your efforts, especially when you’re trying to teach us neanderthals how to cook.”

You giggled a little, pushing away the sad thoughts that had encapsulated your mind for a split second, “You’re not neanderthals.”

“We’re not exactly proper either. Couldn’t say, we’re exactly suited for a posh dinner.”

You shook your head as you laughed, “You don’t need to be suited for a posh dinner, you just need to show up to eat.” You smiled as you turned to look at him, smirking as you saw how perfectly he cut each vegetable.

You walked over and grabbed the tray of veggies, and dropped them into the stew, “Thanks for your help.”

“Of course. Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure”

“Why do you take care of us? I mean granted the Marauder smells a lot better, and the meals you cook are much better than the GAR rations, but … why do you do it?”

You stirred the stew as you contemplated the question, “I guess … because you feel like family to me.” You turned to look at him, truthfully, he was the only one that you didn’t think of as family, you wanted something more with him, something special, but seeing as this was the first time you two actually talked, it might be a bit far-fetched to imagine that could possibly happen. “And, I love seeing how my food makes you guys happy. Wrecker, has the biggest smile on his face, whenever he eats when I cook. Tech has this adorable blush, although he’ll never admit how much he enjoys my cooking. And Crosshair … well he always comes back for seconds; and frankly, between you and me, he needs to eat more. He’s too skinny. I could break off his collarbone if I needed.”

“I enjoy it too,” Hunter clarified as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “I might not say it, but I always look forward to your cooking.” He blushed and turned his head away, not wanting you to see how much of an effect you had on him, and not just because of your cooking. 

You laughed at his reaction, "Oh, don't be cute” you teased, “I might have to walk over there and pinch your cheeks.”

Hunter started to laugh, when he realized what you said, “Wait, did you just say that I'm cute?"

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

[flightlessangelwings]

FlightlessAngelWings Kinkotber 2023 Prompt List!

Here it is, the Kinktober Prompt List!!

Compiled by myself and edited/peer reviewed/approved by my bestie @the-purity-pen who had made fantastic prompt lists in the past (and who also made the beautiful graphics for me)!! This list has a little bit of everything from more vanilla to more hardcore prompts so there’s a little something for everyone, or to branch out and try something new if you feel like it!

Write fics, make art, graphics, gifs, moodboards, whatever your heart desires!! Any type of creations are welcome too: reader insert, oc, ships, original works, anything!

Have fun and be creative!!

Below the cut are 31 days of prompts for the month of October! Each day has 3 choices with a free space day on the 31st!

Because of the nature of the event, this is 18+ ONLY! Minors interacting or participating will be blocked!

Please tag me @flightlessangelwings and use the hastag #fawktober2023 and I’ll share your works!

Please use proper warnings in your posts with this event as some of the prompts may not be for everyone. And if you’re doing a reader insert, please work to be inclusive of your writing/art!

No kinkshaming please! I made this list to be varied so there may be things on here you hate. That’s ok! There’s things here that even I don’t like but I designed it that way so there’s something for everyone! But that’s also why tags and warnings are so important!!

Reblog this post so others and find this list and to share the fun!! And don’t forget to reblog other people’s work too throughout October and support each other!!

If none of the prompts for the day speak to you, feel free to pull from another day if you want! Don’t feel pressured at all! Have fun with it!!

List under the cut in graphic and text format!

Banner free to use for your posts with credit to @the-purity-pen 💖

Both dividers by the lovely @saradika ❤️

Love bites * Overstimulation * Impact play

Bath/shower * Public * Knife play

69 * Exhibitionism * Monster au

Thigh riding * Sex pollen * Forced orgasm

Table sex * Threesome * Sensory deprivation

Sexting/phone sex * A/B/O * Bondage

Slow and soft * Partner swap * Spanking

Cockwarming * Temperature play * Rough sex

Role play * Pegging * Hunter/prey

Stripping * Anal * Double penetration

Seduction * Blindfold * Degradation

Formal wear * Glove kink * Gun play

Body worship * Being recorded * Anonymous sex

Tit/nipple play * Object insertion * BDSM

Against a wall * Size kink * Free use

Lap dance * Role reversal * Whipping

Praise kink * Rimming * Tentacles

Masturbation * Squirting * Dacryphilia (crying/emotional release)

Hand job * Voyeurism  * Somnophilia

Sex toys * Orgy/group * Corruption

Romantic sex * Piercings * Hate sex

Voice kink * Virginity * Fisting

Dirty talk * Begging * CNC

Lingerie * Edging * Leather/latex

Mirror sex * Orgasm denial * Breeding

Face sitting * Deep throating * Choking

Food play * Period sex * Wax play

Blowjobs * Intercrural sex * Cock rings

Fingering * Cream pie * Gagging

Cunnilingus * Costumes * Breath play

FREE SPACE

[corvidscreams]

Day 5: Recess Don’t worry, the adults are supervising. Mostly. (Prev/Next)

[omaano]

MMA Fighter AU for @bobadinweek's bingo - with which I have a bingo! (I'll post my card under the read more cut for proof) I treated it more as a pose drawing exercise, but in the process I grew very fascinated with the idea of Boba having some biomech tattoos (as opposed to the geometrical armor based design I default to for Din) especially on the leg he is often headcanoned to lose to the sarlacc - and if you can make out anything of that on Boba it was inspired by Arno B Ink's work

Whoop whoop! I've never achieved a bingo before!! I did a bit of colour coding, because that's how I work, and the blue ones needed to be switched up (the orange ones are the prompts I REALLY want to complete, and the yellow circles are the ones with the possibility of an idea.... So I'll want to go off these prompts outside of the deadline as well, I suppose. It'd be a shame to waste all those reference images I took for the Razor Crest Lives prompt XD). I've been aiming for the T-shaped bingo, but I don't have very high hopes with finishing anything for the FREE and Assassins & Spys prompts in the remaining time - gotta get back to work and all that....

I will make a round up post in two weeks with all my finished prompts all the same however many that will be - we shall see! :)

[cornycopeia]

day twenty: beast

[burnwater13]

Garsa Fwip's Sanctuary in Mos Espa, on Tatooine. Image from The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1, Episode 2, The Tribes of Tatooine. Calendar from DateWorks.

Grogu had heard of ‘Cantina Culture’, but honestly he thought it had something to do with infectious disease control. All sorts of people travelled to Tatooine and as a planet with a limited water supply, hygiene practices that were typical on Corellia or Chandrila couldn’t be readily employed. You had to bring your own sanitizer and you had to understand that the sanitizing stations at the space port near Mos Eisley had run out of sanitizing anything a long time ago. 

He was explaining that all to Peli Motto when she began to laugh, loudly and with more gusto than a serious discussion of public hygiene deserved. 

“Buddy, ‘Cantina Culture’ isn't about that kind of biology. It’s about the people who go to a cantina and the sort of things they expect of that cantina. For instance, here, everyone who goes into the cantina knows ya gotta be able to play sabacc. If ya can’t play, ya stay. Simple rule. Now, take Mos Pelgo…”

Grogu waved his hands to interrupt her to no avail.

“They… Okay, okay, Freetown, whatever. Any how, up there ya gotta have a spotchka. Ya gotta share the latest gossip. Ya gotta laugh at the Marshal’s jokes. That’s how they roll up there. Over in Mos Espa, well, there you better have more credits than ya know what to do with. Those Twi’lek dancers and servers will spend it for ya before you can say, ‘No, I don’t want my boots polished’. Even if I had boots needing polishing I wouldn’t let them do it at three times the cost of having the pit droids do it. Ridiculous waste of credits.”

She stopped talking to take a breath and then didn’t start back up. 

“Where was I? Oh, yeah, depending on the town, the people, the products available, and a bunch of other factors, every cantina you walk into is nothing like the last cantina you were in. That’s ‘Cantina Culture’. I’m surprised yer dad didn't explain that to ya. Although, come ta’ think of it, do Mandalorian’s even have cantinas?”

Peli was looking at him expectantly as if he and his dad had been to a bunch of them over the course of their adventures. He shrugged at her. He didn’t think that Mandalorians bothered with stuff like that. They were too busy trying to make sure that ex-Imps weren’t hiding around the corner from everywhere they were.

“Well, when yer dad gets back, he can tell us all about ‘em.”

Peli had settled the matter to her own satisfaction and then walked back to her office, yelling at the pit droids to get her boots and start polishing them. Grogu giggled at that. You never knew which part of a conversation you had with her was going to be the part that stuck. Grogu doubted that she’d remember to ask his dad about Mandalorian cantinas and what kind of culture they had. 

Grogu thought that was a silly question any way. Based on everything they already knew about Din Djarin and the handful of other Mandalorians he’d met, Grogu could tell you just what a Mandalorian cantina was like. 

First, it wasn’t called a cantina. It was called a ‘bar’. It was called that because cantina sounded too fun and tavern was too friendly. ‘Bar’ conveyed the right sort of purposefulness of the establishment. Get in, get out, get back to work.

Mandalorians were very deliberate people and they didn’t mess around with subtleties. You lined up at the bar top and were given a drink with a straw and you put your foot on the bar at the bottom of the structure to allow you to rest a little. No chairs. No tables. No booths. No music. No decorations. No problems. 

Grogu had no doubt that they entered and left in shifts and were only allowed there at certain times of day and on certain days of the week. Organized, methodical, routine, predictable, boring certainty. 

Then he considered what a Jedi cantina would be like. He sighed and laughed at the same time. His first thought was that it would be empty and his second thought was it would be the absolute opposite of a Mandalorian bar. It would be filled with sound. At least two or three different sources of music would be present and playing at the same time. You would just focus on the one you liked better and you wouldn’t even notice the others. The furniture would look like it had been found at a recycling center. It would be every size, every style, every color and just pushed into the large room in a manner that would immediately suggest that it had once been used to barricade the entry. 

Grogu didn’t know who would have been foolish enough to try and attack a Jedi cantina. Only a bunch of fools. Of course the Jedi wouldn’t have called it a cantina either. They would have given it a semi-ironic nickname like a ‘watering hole’ or a lounge. The images those names evoked were almost opposites and that's just what the Jedi would have been counting on. No reason to advertise that the location was primarily about goofing off and playing chess or darts with your fellow knights and masters, no padawans allowed. 

He giggled at that. He suspected that rule would apply to younglings as well, but he couldn’t imagine a Jedi watering hole that would have been able to keep Ian out. His friend had an absolute sixth sense for spaces like that and had made a regular study of them at the Jedi Temple. That’s how Master Yoda’s private swamp ended up hosting a younglings festival night when the powerful Jedi had been called away to travel to Trymant IV.  Grogu wished that event had established a youngling cantina culture, but you couldn’t hide a fifty foot water slide from Master Yoda, no matter how many of the younglings worked together to make it disappear.

“Hey buddy, I’m back. Peli said you wanted to go to the Cin Vhetin.”

The Mandalorian was suddenly there and seemed pretty happy for a change. 

Grogu asked why.

“Peli said you wanted to see a real honest to B’Omarr Mandalorian drinking establishment. One just opened here in Mos Eisley. If we go now they’ll still have Fire Stacks. You won’t want to miss them.”

Huh? A Mandalorian drinking establishment that served food? You could have knocked Grogu over with a feather. His dad wanted to get something to eat that wasn't a ration pack? Grogu jumped up into his dad’s arms and bumped his head against the Mandalorian’s helmet. He thought it was important to encourage his dad to go new places and try new things, especially when he was along for the ride.

[slushyextrachaos]

When Boba was hired to collect an overdo payment from a Moisture Farmer on Tatooine he didn’t expect much.

Instead he got the payment and an infant shoved into his arms while a woman somewhere shouted at her husband to ask “Where is Luke?”.

Well if the farmer didn’t want the kid who was Boba to refuse a potential foundling?

[icecreambeach]

For the "I wish you would write a fic where..." meme

Where Boba goes to visit Din and the baby at their little cabin and maybe cool Uncle Greef babysits so they can break in the bed, idk, I'm a simple woman with simple desires

I, too, am this woman!

I decided to write the first part here, but I’ll repost the whole thing WITH the smut on Ao3 later! Or else it'd be way too long methinks. For now, enjoy the G-rated opener :)

(Also, this maybe could be considered a companion piece to the one-shot I wrote about Din and Grogu first moving into the new cabin, "home again, for the first time," if only because I'm using the exact same layout.)

-

Greef arrives late. Important high magistrate business, he says. Din listens patiently to details he barely understands, but still makes sure to hand Greef some qartuum jerky in the hopes that he’ll share with Grogu, thereby hastening the process of Greef leaving with Grogu so that Din and his next visitor can be alone. Time is not on their side.

“You ever figure out what he eats?” says Greef, looking down at Grogu’s wide, pleading eyes.

“Easier to figure out what he doesn’t eat,” says Din, most of his attention on preparing the red tea the villagers donated to his home alongside the plants, the dishes, and nearly everything else. “I’ll let you know when I find one.”

As Greef bloviates about local agriculture initiatives, the wind blows hard, making the black volcanic chimes dance in the window. There’s nothing to slow the wind over the flats, but Din’s new cabin bears it well. Manual blinds just under the roof permit some flow, and the walls themselves withstand the pressure without much noise. Din isn’t sure about the receiver or any other delicate extremities, but he’ll cross those bridges when he comes to them. And Grogu seems to like it. He’s always turning towards the breeze like it’s whispering secrets.

It’s not a bad environmental asset, too. It can disguise many other sounds. Like the roar of the Slave I touching down not twenty yards from the front porch.

All of the frogs scatter into the pond like nervous shock troopers, but Greef takes no notice, still blathering on about pasture rotations while Din watches the entire landing through the window. Grogu has noticed, but apparently he cares more about obtaining the maximum quantity of jerky than he does about greeting ba’vodu Boba.

Din watches Boba descend the ramp with his rifle in his hands. Prepared for anything, as always. Din smiles, but it quickly vanishes when he realizes that he has no idea how to get Greef out of his house.

“Uh.” He pours boiling water for the tea without taking his eyes off of Boba's confident stride. “School’s starting soon, isn’t it?”

“Not that soon, don't worry. And that speeder can hit sixty in under two seconds. Had it suped up by the Anzellans just last week. They added all-new—”

Din watches Boba pause several feet from the porch. No doubt he’s heard Greef’s booming voice; Din was supposed to be alone already.

He’s definitely also able to make out the three lifeforms with his helmet’s infrared. Din faces Boba and makes a short beckoning gesture. Greef takes no notice, but Boba holsters his rifle and resumes his path.

“And the mileage! You wouldn’t believe the amount of credits I save. Then again, we might not have to worry about fuel again for quite some time. I’m working on this deal with traders on Abafar—”

“Abafar,” comes a gruff voice. “What a skughole.”

A sweeping feeling unfurls within Din like the first day of spring after a merciless winter: Boba Fett, armored and whole, standing in Din’s own home. He stops what he’s doing and faces him, hoping that Boba will be able to read his feelings from body language alone. By the slow tilt of Boba’s helmet, his hopes aren’t in vain.

Meanwhile, Greef has gone ashen. It’s dramatic enough to distract Din from his heartfelt bliss. The silence turns awkward.

Din gestures lamely to Boba. “Greef, this is—”

“Boba Fett,” Greef breathes out. He doesn’t reach for his weapon, but Din recognizes the look of his old friend’s battle readiness. “You’re Boba Fett.”

“And you’re Magistrate Greef Karga,” says Boba as he removes his helmet, donning the chilled, mountainous presence of the daimyo of Mos Espa. “We did not meet when last I visited your planet.”

Greef blinks, then whirls to Din. “When Cara said you’d gotten help from two bounty hunters, she didn’t mention one of them was Boba karking Fett.”

Din blinks himself. “I didn’t know you’d heard of him.”

“If I’d heard—?” Greef looks at Din like he’s gone insane before turning back to Boba.

Din starts wondering if he should reach for his own blaster, but—after another few seconds of tension—Greef sets his jerky on the dining nook’s table and strides over to Boba with an open palm. “Boba Fett, in the flesh. It’s an honor. If I’d known you were visiting our little settlement, I’d… I’d have—”

“Just a brief social call, I’m afraid,” Boba tucks his helmet under his arm to shake Greef’s hand. His eyes fly to Din even before the handshake has ended. “Old warriors do love to swap stories.”

“Don’t I know it,” Greef chuckles, ignorant of the heat passing between Boba and Din. “Wow. It’s too bad the Hunters all left. They would have a field day. The stories you could swap then!”

“They’ve probably heard all the best ones already. My versions are always a little less exciting.”

“You have to allow me to invite you to dinner. Nevarro is going to be an invaluable trade hub on the Hydian way, and with your connections in Mos Espa I’m sure we could—”

“Another time, perhaps.” Boba’s strident yet patient tone overrides Greef in a way Din has never seemed to manage. “I promised I’d share a meal with this little one before I leave.” He moves and Greef steps aside to allow Boba to press a hand into the kid’s eager grasp.

Greef lets out a huff of laughter, hands on his hips. “Well, this is still a pleasant surprise. You’ll have to plan better the next time he visits, Mando.”

Din, staring at Grogu happily babbling to Boba while clawing at his glove, responds to Greef a full beat too late. “It was a last-minute… thing.”

Greef shakes his head like Din is his least competent child. He steps back to observe Boba and Grogu. “He’s taken a real liking to you, huh?”

Din can just barely make out the ghost of a smile on Boba’s mouth. “Just because he’s a Jedi doesn’t make him a good judge of character.”

Greef laughs, but Din is wary of this turning into the kind of conversation that goes on for far longer than it should. And Boba is no help; he’s stroking one of Grogu’s long ears while the kid coos and leans into his hand like they have all the time in the world.

Din clears his throat and sways from one hip to the other. “Well, Grogu has school to get to…”

Boba gives Din a look, clearly judging him for his graceless segue. But Greef starts and across at the holoclock. “Ah, you’re right. Mando here is finally letting the little guy—uh, Grogu, excuse me—letting Grogu enroll in the school.”

Din takes a step forward as if that might encourage Greef closer to the door. “He’s not enrolling. He’s just attending for the day.”

“Just for the day, huh?” says Boba, still staring at Din, who is too embarrassed to move further.

“Maybe more, if he likes it!" says Greef. "Kid can’t learn everything he needs to know through bounty hunting. Did he tell you that’s what he plans to do? Take the kid on some training journey across the galaxy?”

“That’s how I learned,” says Boba.

“Well… we can’t all be Boba Fett.”

“I also learned that way,” says Din. “And it’s not all just fighting. He’ll learn what he needs to learn.”

Greef addresses Grogu as he picks him up, “I’ll at least make sure they cover local New Republic ordinances, since your Dad doesn’t seem too well-versed in those.” As Grogu burbles, Greef adds, “Yes, Dad gets lots of traffic citations. Yes he does.”

Din begins strolling towards the door, wielding his shoulders in a herding motion.

Greef, blessedly, takes the hint. “Well, we’ll be off then.” He almost accosts Boba with one more handshake on his way out, then seems to think better of it. “It was a pleasure and an honor.”

“Honor was all mine,” Boba drawls, obviously loving this.

Din gets Greef around the barrier wall separating the front entryway from the rest of the cabin and, finally, outside. He passes a gentle hand over Grogu’s head, his thumb brushing the same ear Boba stroked. “Be good, okay, kid?”

Grogu gurgles some noises that doubtlessly mean no promises just as Greef leans forward to stage-whisper, “Seriously, Mando. Let me know next time he visits. I’d love to open up discussions for business opportunities over dinner.” 

“Well, next time Fennec might join him, so you can have your big dinner then.”

“Fennec Shand—?”

“Goodbye, Greef.” Din shuts the door in Greef’s face.

Boba has set his helmet on the nook dining table. He's scanning the plants hovering above, the pots dotting the windowsill. “You’ve made quite a home here already.”

“Most of it was here when we moved in,” mutters Din. “The townspeople have been very kind.” He immediately realizes that he’s let the tea over-steep and goes to the counter to remove the sachet from the pot. “I don’t have any milk, but would you—hgn—”

Boba presses to his back with such force that Din has to push against the counter to avoid bruising his hips. It’s a miracle he doesn’t knock the pot over.

His cloak is yanked aside, “I don’t want,” his collar is pulled open, “Any karking tea," his throat is seized by Boba's greedy mouth, "Djarin."

[acatalystrising]

Yes, it’s November, but the oneshots stop for no one! I’ve had this idea bouncing around in my head for a bit so I finally got a chance to write it!

This oneshot is a veterinarian!(f)reader x TBOBF Boba, no warnings, just lotssss of fluff (and a cute rancor) enjoy!

Here’s a link to part two and three!

Alsooo this one may or may not have been inspired by this…

Oneshot: Moth to a Flame

He was back again.

You heard the now familiar tisk tisk of beskar spurs striking the wooden planks of your walkway, announcing his arrival long before he opened your door. You crossed your waiting room and slipped behind your desk, already rummaging for his package.

You’d never forget the first time Boba Fett stepped into your clinic.

Broad, stern, wearing green beskar that spoke of years of violence and a bounty hunting career soaked in blood. He looked the part too: built like a tank, black clothing that could far too easily hide bloodstains, boots and gloves made of functional leather, helmet with a T-visor that slowly turned, scanning everything and missing nothing.

And yet Boba Fett, the bounty hunter turned Daimyo of Tatooine, hadn’t threatened your life that day. He’d come for medicine…for his rancor. His voice had been rough, like mountain stone, yet carrying a warmth that reminded you of the way spotchka settled in the back of your throat after a long day.

You’d been afraid, intimidated - but advised him calmly, as professionals should, you’d wagered, your concern for the animal overriding your fear for your life. And it had worked - he’d thanked you, paid you handsomely, and left without another word.

And yet, for some reason, he kept coming back. It was usually for more medicine, but recently it had been for something as small as a treat, or advice…and despite your reservations, you’d nearly grown accustomed to his presence. He never threatened you, and always ensured you were paid more than the goods were worth - but still. He was a killer, you knew, and killers couldn’t be trusted.

Perhaps it was for the best, you thought, even as his shadow fell over your doorstep, made larger than life by the binary suns - for the best that you had a working relationship with the new Daimyo. If relations were good, you’d be able to stay in business - then the animals you cared for would be safe. Even if you were entertaining something much more dangerous than a rancor to keep it that way.

He stepped inside - armor slightly dusted by the sandy terrain, silent as always. You dipped your head in a greeting and lifted the brown bag of medicine onto the counter.

“Hello,” you looked at the expressionless helmet, nerves twisting in your gut, and dared to give him a small smile as you gestured at the small paper bag. “Here for the usual?”

He nodded slowly in acknowledgement, helmet dipping nearly gracefully as he approached, gloved hands resting on the edge of your desk as he took the bag. Your gaze dropped to his thick fingers, absently wondering how many people he’d killed with those hands, when his voice crackled over the vocorder.

“The medicine is appreciated, but,” his helmet titled slightly to the side, as if pondering his words. “I’m here for another matter.”

Alarm spiked your chest, and you could have sworn your heart dropped to your stomach. You tried your best to remain calm, collected - but you clenched a shaking hand underneath the counter to ground yourself.

“Is something wrong?” You frowned, unable to fully eradicate the quiver from your tone. “With the medicine, I mean?”

He was silent for a moment, long enough to make you wonder if he was plotting how to kill you. What could you have possibly done? You couldn’t die now - you had two sick banthas, three loth cats, and a nexu cub you’d managed to wrangle from a merchant all depending on you to survive.

“If I have, I promise I can make it up to you,” you knew you were babbling, fear slowly overriding logic. “I never meant to-“

He held up a hand, helmet gently shaking side to side.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, mesh’la.” His tone was still carrying that gravely rasp, yet had somehow imperceptibly softened.

And there he was again, saying that word you didn’t understand…what the kriff did it mean? Was he insulting you? But the way he said it nearly made you feel weak kneed. Damn, he was dangerous.

“The medicine’s helped, but I’m told he’s depressed.” He crossed his arms, weapons on full display, and you waited with bated breath for him to continue. “I need someone to look him over, ensure he has what he needs. Would you be willing?”

Wait, he was asking you to inspect a rancor? The biggest animal you’d worked with was a bantha, and your experience with predators was lackluster at best…

And besides, this wasn’t just any rancor…it was his. At the palace. Jabba’s former palace. In that gods damned pit where so many had met their untimely demise. That place…didn’t have good memories.

“You’ll be safe, I give my word,” Boba’s voice broke you from your thoughts, but he didn’t sound impatient…in fact, he seemed entirely understanding. “You’re the only one I’d trust around him.”

You raised a brow, but nodded. You always knew when a pet’s owner was sincere - there was a weighted concern in every voice, every expression. And even though you couldn’t see the Daimyo’s face, you knew he was being genuine. And so, even though you knew you were probably signing your life away, you felt yourself nodding.

“Okay, I’ll help. When do you want me to stop by?” You nearly wanted to roll your eyes at yourself.

Here you were potentially facing death, and yet you were conversing as if you were going on a regular afternoon picnic with the most notorious bounty hunter in the galaxy - what a funny notion.

“The sooner the better, I wager.” He shifted, fingers tapping lightly on his gauntlet, either in boredom or agitation, you couldn’t figure. “Do you have any appointments for the rest of the day?”

Oh karking hell. You were so going to die.

“Umm,” you nervously scanned your daily schedule that you already knew was unfortunately blank. “No, all clear. It’s…a quiet season.”

His helmet shifted to scan the room before looking back down at you with a nod. “You’re welcome to accompany me back, then.”

You nodded, trying your best to still your quivering hands as you made your way around the facade of safety your desk had created. Boba Fett looked down at you, silent and immovable, as you stopped before him.

I, you thought to yourself, am so dead.

-

You’d seen the confused and frightened looks cast your way as you’d walked through the streets of Mos Espa with none other than the Daimyo himself.

You hoped that someone would be charitable enough to care for the animals after your death. But the chances were always slim. At least the rumors would spread, you wagered, thoughts swirling in the tangible silence between you and your armored companion as he led you through the darkened underbelly of the palace.

I’m dead, dead, dead. Sentenced to be rancor food for Maker knows what.

You kept your gaze locked ahead, hoping you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in your final moments. But you could also be wrong. He’d only ever been true to his word, and he hadn’t once hurt you or threatened to do so. Your thoughts were still a swirling mess when he stopped at a door, glancing down at you.

“Stay with me, but don’t be alarmed. You’re safe.” Boba’s voice was nearly calming to your nerves as he opened the door, the barricade sliding out of the way, as you both stepped into the cavern beyond.

It was a massive cave, littered with stalactites and stalagmites bared like teeth, but that wasn’t what held your attention. Your gaze was locked on the giant, impossibly massive, deadly creature laying at its center. A rancor, in the flesh.

It rumbled a low growl, huge fanged maw parting, and slowly shifted to its feet. Boba, you noticed with wide eyes, approached the beast completely unafraid. You watched, blinking in shock, as he removed his helmet and tucked it under an arm, reaching up to pat the creature’s neck as if it were as tame as a bantha. He turned to face you, still scratching the rancor’s neck.

“He won’t hurt you,” he spoke calmly, deep voice nearly melodic without the vocorder, and gestured at you with a flick of his gloved fingers. “But he does want to say hello.”

Oh stars, you weren’t expecting Boba Fett to be attractive. Nor did you ever think you’d see the Daimyo smile. But he was - so genuinely enamored by this giant beast that his small grin was infectious.

And so you stepped forward, daring to approach the beast. It watched you with glittering eyes, those massive teeth still parted, but Boba walked around to its head and stood beside you.

“See? A friend.” Boba placed a hand on the small of your back, keeping his eyes trained on the rancor, which shook its head and let out a huff. “She’s gonna make sure you’re okay.”

Friend? You glanced at him, striking features focused on the rancor, and you felt a warmth settle in your chest when his gaze shifted to ensnare yours, something altogether soft in those dark brown eyes.

You noticed his hand was still at your back, touch surprisingly gentle. He spoke softly, as if to comfort both you and his gargantuan pet, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d misjudged him. Perhaps there was more to Boba Fett then met the eye.

“Can I…” you regarded the rancor with a tilted head, a small smile slowly creeping to your lips. You couldn’t help it, being in such close proximity with something so magnificent. Well, two magnificent things. “Will he let me pet him?”

“Yes, I’ll show you how,” he turned to face you, so dizzying close, and held out a gloved hand. “Do you trust me?”

Part of you still wanted to say no, knowing all too well that he could still kill you. But you saw nothing but kindness in that stern, scarred face, the corner of his plush lip curved in a small, beckoning smile. You nodded and dared to slip your hand in his.

You noted, even as he raised your hand with his toward the rancor’s nose, that his touch was warm and gentle - not at all what you’d expected from one of his reputation. And when you felt your fingertips brush against the rancor’s tough hide, it rumbled, pressing its head into your hand with a soft sound you almost interpreted as a purr.

“Oh my gods, this is amazing! He’s so sweet, look at those pretty eyes,” you couldn’t help but gush, your love of animals kicking into overdrive, and you gave the scales a gentle scratch. “Let’s make sure you’re okay, all right?”

You glanced at Boba, and found he was watching you with such a tender warmth you nearly felt your knees go weak.

“Knew this was a good idea,” he smiled fully now, rumbling voice rolling through you and settling in your chest. “You like him?”

Kriff, kriff, kriff. He was attractive, dangerously so - his skin a rich tan that flickered bronze in the torchlight. You didn’t want to stare, but you couldn’t help it, feeling drawn to him in a way you couldn’t fully grasp. You found yourself wishing the Daimyo was asking about himself.

“I do, he’s amazing. I never thought I’d ever be able to see one in person, definitely not this close,” you looked back at the rancor, hoping to hide your blush. “Will he let me examine him?”

“Yes, he will,” Boba chuckled, the sound rumbling through your chest to your toes this time, and you distinctly felt a warmth settle in your core. Ohhh kriff, you were in trouble, but not in the kind that you’d been expecting.

He finally let go of you, and you found yourself missing his touch, forcing yourself to focus on the matter at hand.

“Hey sweetie,” you brushed your hand over the rancor’s face, checking his eyes and ear cavities. “All clear, no discoloration. That’s good. Let’s see those teeth.”

You fearlessly dropped to a crouch beside its face, and it rumbled again as you brushed a hand underneath its jaw. You kept a respectful distance from those massive fangs, but noted that this rancor was already earning a clean bill of health. You felt Boba’s gaze on you as you worked, and your cheeks flared. You couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking about - and why he’d chosen you of all people to entrust with this opportunity.

“Well, he’s in perfect health,” you stood and scratched the rancor’s neck, earning another pleased rumble. “Oh, you like that huh? What a good boy.”

You finally pulled away, knowing you’d done what he’d brought you here for, and found that he was still watching you. Surprisingly, you didn’t feel uncomfortable under his gaze, and you turned to fully face him with a small, shy smile.

“Thanks, for this,” you reluctantly lifted your hand from the rancor and it butted its head into you, making you chuckle despite your nerves. “He’s healthy, just needs interaction. If you ever…you know, need someone to work with him, just let me know.”

“You’d want to come back?” His brows flew upward in surprise, and if he was entirely shocked by this development. “I don’t want to scare you.”

You nearly grinned, a giddiness settling in your bones despite the fact that you knew you should be afraid. At least wary, of the man in front of you. But he’d been talking about himself, not the rancor, hadn’t he?

“You don’t scare me, neither of you do,” you crossed your arms and dared to regard him with a small smirk. “That is, if you wouldn’t get tired of me.”

“I could never get tired of you, little one,” he closed the distance between you, hands held loosely at his sides, and you absently wished he’d touch you again. “I’m glad that you like him.”

“His owner’s not half bad either,” you felt the words slip from your lips before you could stop yourself, and you dropped your gaze to your boots to hide your furious blush.

But Boba Fett merely chuckled, and you felt the soft leather of his gloves bush against your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his.

“You don’t have to hide that pretty face,” he lifted a brow, lips curved in a welcoming smile as his thumb gently caressed your jawline. “You’re welcome here anytime, mesh’la.”

Oh stars, if you didn’t get a hold of yourself, you were going to melt. You took a breath, realizing too late that you were leaning into his touch.

“What…does that mean?” You met his gaze, molten eyes so warm and inviting, you felt you wanted to dive in despite the potential danger.

He held your gaze, face mere inches away, and you resisted the urge to recklessly learn forward to capture those damn lips in yours.

“It means beautiful.” His gaze flicked between your eyes and lips, and you held your breath, the tension palpable as he leaned slowly forward…

The rancor suddenly released a playful rumble, head-butting you both. You tumbled gracelessly into his arms, and Boba held you gently against his armored chest, a deep, warm laugh rumbling from his throat and sending tingles down your spine.

“Someone doesn’t like being left out,” he patted the rancor’s neck, arm still wrapped around you. “I want to ride him, you know.”

You did your very, very best to not let your thoughts take an improper turn at that comment, given that there was something else you’d be fine with riding - and you smothered a smirk as he met your gaze with a raised brow.

“Perhaps, if your schedule isn’t too busy, would you like to have dinner here tomorrow?” He spoke so smoothly, so gently, you nearly didn’t notice that he was gently caressing your back. “That is, if you’re interested…”

You nodded vigorously, earning another chuckle, and hesitantly placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’d like that very much,” you met his gaze with a smile of your own. “If you’re interested.”

“Ad’ika,” he leaned forward, warm breath washing over your skin, and gave your cheek a soft peck. “I’d be honored.”

[iszapizza]

Darthfett prompt pt 3!

Vader teaching boba how to use a lightsaber for @withercrown !

(version with helmetless!boba)

this was fun to draw!

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Mimi ❤️!! Congratulations on hitting 450 followers 🥳!!

If you'd like, could I suggest Commander Wolffe and the prompts: 18 and/or 35?

😘

Awww @ulchabhangorm thank you, love!

I realized on my previous post, I didn't put a warning. Oops. Anyway, I'll include a warning this time.

Enjoy.

Just Breathe

Warnings: anxiety, slight panic attack, mentions of death, broken finger, surgeries, medical procedure, kissing.

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

You took a deep breath, needing to calm down your mind. There’d been just too many injuries, too many bloody soldiers, too many you couldn’t save. It was just all too much. You just needed peace and quiet. Needed to remember you were more than just someone who stood by and watched soldiers die. 

Wolffe was looking for you, he knew in battles like this, you always suffered the most. You always made sure everyone else took the time to recoup, while you ploughed through the difficult carnage. He smiled when he saw you standing outside of the camp looking up to the stars, he loved the way the moonlight illuminated your face, your bright eyes that were full of sadness pulled on his heart strings.

“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”

It was the only reprimand he would give you on a day like this, he walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in close to his chest. 

“I know. I just … I just needed to breathe.”

He rested his lips on the side of your head, pressing a gentle kiss, “Hmmm, and did you?”

You swallowed the anxiety, fighting back the tears, “I think so…”

“Doesn’t sound like it”

A shuddering breath escaped your lips; you hated how much Wolffe really knew you, how much you tried to be strong. You turned in his arms and held him close, burying your face in the crook of his arm and shoulder, wanting to escape from the reality that was this world.

“It’s okay, cyar’ika. I got you.”

You simply nodded, letting your tears escape, and finally finding the comfort you had been so longing for, as you felt Wolffe bury his face in your hair, his breath on your neck, and his hand rubbing your back up and down. 

You shifted when you realized he kept his left hand elevated and away from you. You wiped your tears as you looked into his warm eyes that would always be your home.

“Wolffe, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head, ignoring the pain in his hand. He looked at his cyar’ika’s face which told him you didn’t believe him. He let out a sigh, he didn’t want you to be worried about him, “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it, cyar’ika.”

“Now, I know there’s something wrong,” you pulled back and looked at him, holding out your hand for him, “Show me.”

“Cyar’ika, let’s worry about you. I can wait.”

“I’ll keep standing here, and not saying anything until you show me your hand.”

“Well, I can play that game too, cyar’ika.”

You nodded, and stood in front of him, hand raised, keeping your eyes locked on his, with an unimpressed face. You stood there staring at each other for a good ten minutes before finally he caved, “Alright, alright. Here.” He placed his left hand in yours, his glove was off, his middle finger  bent at an odd angle.

“Wolffe, your finger is broken!”

“Like I said, not a big deal.”

“I swear…” you started mumbling under your breath as you looked at his finger, “you need to thank the force, you didn’t have a pinched nerve or something. Otherwise, we would’ve had to amputate this, you do realize that!”

“As I previously stated, not a big deal” he smirked as he looked at you. He knew how much it drove you crazy, when he downgraded an injury, simply because he wanted to see how angry you got. Plus, it had the added benefit of making you stop thinking about your anxiety.

“Come with me,” you took his other hand in yours, interweaving your fingers. Shaking your head as you walked back to the med tent. Forcing him to sit down, as you tried so hard not to laugh at his best, ‘What did I do?’ face. You grabbed your supplies, pulling over a cargo crate so you could sit on it. 

“Just so you know, this is going to hurt, okay?"

“You always say that, but how can it hurt when I’m looking at the most beautiful face in the galaxy.”

You smirked as he tried to distract you, “Keep it up.” You challenged him, as you looked in his eyes and held on to his finger.

“What, you think, you can make me cry?”

“I don’t think. I know.”

“Not possible, my most beautiful cyar’ika. Your eyes are … AHHH! Son of a nerf herder!”

You laughed as you straightened out his finger and braced it, wrapping the splint around his finger. “You’ll have to keep this on for three to four weeks, and no strenuous activity for two weeks after.”

“Doesn’t really work on a battlefield, cyar’ika.”

“Hence the splint.” You smiled as you leaned forward pressing a kiss to his lips, “Better?”

“Mmm, I think I need a little more” he threaded his good fingers through your hair and pressed your lips to his again.

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

[cabezadeperro]

Me again 💖

CalBoba +

hi tasha!!! i didn't actually follow your prompt too much sowwy 😭 vague spoilers of jedi survivor; pre/established relationship (situationship), T, 870w.

---

The cuffs are just plain durasteel. They’re good quality, kept painstakingly clean and in good condition despite the heavy use they see, heavier than they look. Boba sourced them from a factory on Kuat that also makes Imperial-grade restraints for the ISB. They were expensive: they are an investment. Boba knows what happens when your bounty shakes off their shackles, and he has to live with the scars.

They are not Force-suppressing cuffs, however. They’re high grade durasteel, nothing more and nothing less.

Kestis sits in the hold of the Slave, shackled wrists held in his lap, fingers lax. His little droid friend is nowhere to be found, and he is soaked to the bone, dripping seawater on the metal floor of Boba’s ship. His lightsaber is tucked away in one of Boba’s pouches, weirdly heavy, cold through the many layers of fabric, and Boba knows intimately what Jedi are capable of. 

Coronet is a dump. Boba closes and locks the ramp, trying his best to keep out the wind and the cold, and returns to Kestis’s side. He’s shivering slightly: Boba fished him from the docks. He lost his boots while trying to swim across the bay, and his lips are blue, his red hair darkened by water and rain. The brightest thing about him is the blood that stains his clothes, and his green eyes.

Word says he survived Vader, and his bounty’s high enough it might even be true. 

The shackles are simple durasteel. Boba crouches in front of him, keeping his distance: Kestis tilts his head, those green eyes of his serene. He seems to be around Boba’s age—he must have been thirteen or fourteen when the war ended. He’s made it for ten years, and the cuffs around his wrists are plain metal, and if he’s there, in Boba’s ship, is because he wants to be there.

Boba chews on his lower lip. After a beat, he takes off his buy’ce. Green eyes widen in recognition, turn thoughtful. 

“I knew I had heard that voice before,” Kestis says after a beat. The cuffs click open, and he sits up, leans forward to lean his elbows on his knees. 

Boba tracked him down after that first chance meeting on Koboh. He’s been doing his best to hunt him down for the past year, and this is not the first time he thought he had Kestis, and he’s beginning to think it won’t be the last. 

“I’m not like them,” Boba tells him. Kestis snorts, mouth ticking up in a sideways smile. 

Boba should have kept his mouth shut.

“Yeah. I can tell,” Kestis replies easily. 

There’s blood on his shirt. Boba got him right before he jumped. High up on his right side, right across the ribs. Must hurt like a bitch.

If Kestis is there it’s because he wants to.

His thighs are starting to burn. Boba stands up and steps away, buy’ce held uncomfortably in his left hand.

There’s an unused pair of Force-suppressing cuffs gathering dust in the armoury. Boba’s had them for a while. 

He’s playing a dangerous game—his father would be disgusted. He never had any patience for the sort of hunter who did what Boba’s been doing lately: for him, bounties were just credits on legs. You tracked them down, you caught them, you handed them in, and you moved on. Clean and quick and professional.

Kestis reaches out to him with one ungloved hand. After a beat, Boba wraps his gloved one around his wrist, pulls him to his feet. 

He calls himself a Jedi, but he looks little like any of the sanctimonious pricks Boba met during the war. He’s all confident swagger, and he has the kills to support it. He’s been cutting his way through the galaxy, like a too-sharp knife in bantha butter.

Boba moves first, but Kestis’s quick to catch up. His lips are rough, and there’s stubble on the cold skin of his cheeks. Boba closes his eyes and grabs blindly at him. His cold fingers tangle themselves in Boba’s hair, and Boba steps even closer, knees bumping, his bulky armour both a physical boundary that has yet to be crossed and a reminder. He tastes of salt water and blood and metal, and Boba opens under him, already sweating under his kute. 

The lightsaber is very cold where it fits under Boba’s chin. He opens his eyes and looks up at Kestis. Boba raises his brows, painfully aware of the way his pulse beats against the thin skin of his throat, and Kestis licks his lips. He’s flushed, his hair a mess and his lips reddened. 

“I won’t stop,” Boba reminds him. His voice is shot. He clears his throat, and feels the heavy weapon move with him.

“I know,” Kestis says. “I should kill you.”

Boba’s fast, but Kestis is faster. He ducks out of the way, pushes Boba away; Boba feels himself fly through the cold air of his ship, head cracking against something sharp. By the time he manages to shake off the dark spots off his sight, Kestis is long gone, the ramp standing wide open, Coronet’s winds flooding the hold with a mix of seawater and tibanna.

[corvidscreams]

“you stayed?” “of course i stayed. why wouldn’t i?” for Kesett?

They had a fight earlier and even though Boba is still mad, he’s not gonna leave his injured boyfriend to fight a battalion on his own.

[omaano]

"I bet it was the martini that blew your cover." "You can judge my drinking habits after you got me out of here, Djarin!"

I've seen one (1) James Bond movie my entire life back when 00Q was a whole thing on this hellsite, but I'm ready to die on the hill that Din would make a great Q who knows how to work in the field and can poke at gadgets just fine, but also gets very passive agressive when he has to work overtime - he asked for the office job because his kid is going to school and they are working on building a normal-adjacent nighttime routine, which is very difficult when the agent he's working with cannot stick to a plan.

For the Spies/Assassins square on my Bobadin AU bingo for @bobadinweek

(I've seen all the John Wick movies though, so if Boba's pose is familiar, that is why)