warnings: um mentions of murder obviously, and dex’s inability to feel any remorse ?? (but what’s new really)
word count: around 0.6k ? (short and sweet lol)
a/n: i was listening to national anthem demo by lana del rey and when that one part came on i immediately thought about him !! (he’s living in my brain)
you’re lying on your back, the plush weight of your comforter a soft sensation against your skin. your legs are a messy knot with dex’s as you trace the ridges and heavy veins across his knuckles, mentally mapping out his hands.
you can’t see his face from where your head is tucked beneath his chin, propped against the steady, rhythmic thrum of his chest. you’ve been like this for hours, drifting through conversations that feel like everything and nothing at once.
dex mostly just likes the sound of you. he’d never say it out loud, but your voice is the only thing that keeps the white noise in his head from turning into a storm. it doesn’t matter if you’re complaining about the neighbor or whispering half-formed thoughts; he’d listen to your breath if it was the last thing he ever did.
some would call that insane, but you thought it was sweet.
the thought (the question) hits you while you’re bending his fingers, rolling them over in your palm. these are the same hands that belong to bullseye. the same hands that turn ordinary items into lethal weapons.
he could pick up something as futile as a pencil and end a life with it. you wonder, suddenly, how many souls have been extinguished by this same grip. how many throats he’s crushed. how much havoc he’s wreaked.
yet those same hands treat you like you’re made of the finest glass. as if you’re the only thing benjamin poindexter hasn't been ordered to break.
you swallow hard, dropping his hands as if the heat of the realization burned you.
dex shifts immediately, his head lifting from the pillow with a sharp, wounded sort of confusion. “why’d you stop?” he asks, his voice low and slightly offended by the sudden absence of your touch.
you stay quiet, turning your neck to meet his gaze. you trace the furrow in his brow, the genuine panic flickering in his dark eyes.
“did i do something—”
“dex,” you cut him off, shifting until you’re sitting up, adjusting your weight on his lap. “can i ask you something?”
“… sure.” he responds, though his tone is guarded, tight with the suspicion that he might not like what comes next.
“would you kill for me one day?” the question seeps out before you can second-guess the sheer madness of it.
“yes. of course.” the answer comes too fast. no hesitation. absolutely no moral friction.
it makes your stomach flip— the terrifyingly beautiful certainty of it.
“but why are you asking me this? has someone—” he sits up fully now, a predatory edge sharpening his movements as he looks for a target that isn't there.
“like, you would genuinely… unalive a man for me?” you press on, needing to hear the depths of it.
“a man, a woman, a child,” he says, staring at you without blinking. “anyone.” he says it like he’s reciting a law of nature. as if it’s the most natural thing in his world. to extinguish a life for the sake of yours. like it’s not even something up for argument.
“oh…” you breathe out, the word caught in your throat.
“why? has someone threatened you? do i need to take care of—”
“thank you.” you finally manage let out, cutting off his bewildered inquiries.
“thank you?”
“yeah… i think that’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.” you hum, sinking back onto his chest as you press a kiss to his cheek. finally content now that you’ve seen the darkness he keeps reserved for your protection.
he sighs, though you know he isn't truly annoyed. not with you. never with you.
he lets his body go heavy again, reluctantly laying back down. “you’re insane…”
“hey, i’m not the one who said they’d kill a person.”
“true.” he shrugs, his fingers finding the small of your back. “but i would. for you.”
“i meant it.” he adds, more forcefully this time, tightening his grip on your body as if to accentuate his point.
“i know…” and perhaps that is what should scare you the most.
Working out what sort of clothing Lex might wear if she did join the preds.
casual/ armour underlayer and size/ weight adjusted armour (it's still be the clan special- but claws/ crampons are retractable using the same mech as other retractable weapons as she is more likely to get scratched up to hell/ climb a pred and scratch them up to hell.)
Keeping the icepicks.
The OG spear is amazing- but it was made for a piece of simply ancient wood Scar grabbed off a mummy corpse in a niche, and i think it might need ship of theseus-ing if it didn't just end up a first-blood trophy. so put a ? on that original tail.
YOUR BOYFRIEND IS CLINGY … MAYBE A LITTLE BIT TOO MUCH ᝰ.ᐟ
warnings: a tad bit angsty? dex being dex, unhealthy/toxic relationship dynamics, mentions of murder
word count: 1.0k
a/n: this is lowkey self-indulgent but whatever, idk how i keep romanticizing all the red flags of this twink :3
dex knows you can never stay mad at him for too long. he knows it all too well. and he absolutely adores abusing that power over you.
today, for instance, you came home from work utterly drained.
a headache was already blooming viciously behind your eyes, and all you wanted was to collapse onto your bed and become one with the sheets.
you barely trudged up the apartment stairs before the front door was already swinging open: dex had been listening for the exact rhythm of your footsteps from blocks away.
you let out a quiet, heavy sigh as you slipped inside, the sharp *click* of the lock echoing as dex shut the door firmly behind you.
you slung your bag over a kitchen chair, mindlessly kicking off your shoes as you headed straight for the bedroom.
dex was right on your heels, shadowing your every move like a hyper-fixated puppy who couldn’t wait to absorb your voice, your day, your attention— any scrape you were willing to give really. but you just didn’t have it in you right now.
the problem with loving benjamin poindexter was that personal space and privacy simply didn’t exist. his bruised, frantic mind couldn't tell the difference between you being exhausted and you wanting to leave him.
to him, silence meant abandonment. it was all the same threat.
the moment he registered your cold quiet and the way your body collapsed onto the mattress, he was spiraling, hovering over you instantly.
“what happened? is everything okay? did i do something wrong?”
“dex,” you groaned into the plush safety of your pillow, fingers blindly rubbing at your throbbing temples. “please. just not right now.”
“did something happen at the office? is it one of your coworkers?” he pressed, his voice tightening with a dangerous, protective edge. “is it that asshole jeremy? the one from last week?”
“dex.”
“you know i don’t even understand why you keep going to that place,” he ranted, his hands twitching. “i make more than enough money to support the both of us. you could just quit. you could stay here where it’s safe and we could—”
“benjamin!” you finally snapped, bolting upright because you couldn't take another second of his suffocating intensity. “get out.” you said calmly.
“what?” he scoffed, his face falling as he reached for your hand, but you swatted his fingers away. “no—i’m not leaving—”
“i said,” you repeated, each word sharp as a razor, “get out.”
he looked profoundly offended, half seething with dark anger and half resembling a kicked puppy.
under any other circumstances, the whiplash would have been funny, but you were too hollowed out by fatigue to care.
you watched the cogs grinding behind his eyes, mulling over his options, before he finally came to a stubbornly defiant conclusion.
“no.” he stated, perfectly calm.
“what? what do you mean no—” but before you could lash out, his heavy frame shifted.
he caught your shoulders, pulling you back down onto the mattress with him until the two of you were lying flat on your backs, side by side.
“benjamin, i swear to god…” you sighed, your energy completely evaporating.
“no,” he countered, his eyes locked onto the ceiling. “you’re tired and you’re overwhelmed right now. it’s fine. i get it. i understand if you don’t want to talk to me. but i am not leaving you alone.”
you opened your mouth to fight him on it, but the sheer weight of your exhaustion finally won.
your limbs went limp against the sheets. there was no winning against his fixation anyway. he heard you mumble a weak insult under your breath— something about him being entirely unhinged— but he chose to ignore it.
he knew you didn’t truly mean it. or rather, he knew you loved him regardless.
thirty minutes ticked by in total silence.
as the initial heat of your headache settled into a dull throb, the room grew completely still.
dex lay beside you like a statue, barely even shifting his weight against the mattress. he was hyper-aware of your mood, purposely leaving a strict ten centimeters of empty space between your bodies so he wouldn't push your boundaries any further.
eventually, after swallowing down the last remnants of your stubborn pride, you slowly rolled onto your side to face him.
“dex,” you murmured, your expression softening in the dim light.
“yeah?” he answered instantly, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at you expectantly. you could see his fingers twitching, practically aching to touch you, but he forced himself to stay back.
“’m sorry,” you muttered into the space between you, even though you both knew you hadn’t done anything wrong.
“it’s fine,” he breathed out, the immense tension finally leaving his shoulders.
he closed the distance, leaning down to press a lingering, reverent kiss into the crown of your head, inhaling your familiar scent.
i knew you weren't really mad at me, he wanted to say, but he knew better than to push his luck while he was still on thin ice.
“can you even believe what happened today, though?” you started, the dam finally breaking as you began to unpack the messy emotions of your shift.
you far too eager to overlook the toxic reality of him refusing to give you space, wrapping yourself in the comfort of his obsession instead.
but dex didn’t care about healthy.
he just leaned in, drinking in every single word you offered him.
he listened with a terrifying intensity, nodding along and dropping quiet, sharp suggestions—like offering to eliminate the manager who had stressed you out, swearing he would make it look like a tragic accident.
you just let out a weak huff of laughter, telling him not to bother, that it wasn’t worth the trouble.
but you knew the truth. he absolutely would do it.
he’d put in the work. for you.
he lay there, letting you bleed all your worries out onto him until the room felt heavy with it.
after all, the two of you shared a bed, an apartment, and a twisted sort of life. why would you ever try to hide anything from him?
Summary: You get why people call Brendon "Park the Shark", and he notices you more than you realize.
Word Count: 300
Playlist Prompt: Mack the Knife - Bobby Darin / “And he shows them pearly white”
Warnings: Grumpy and sunshine dynamic if you squint, bit of fluff, reader is slightly thirsty, Brendon Park (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: Day 3 of the June Jukebox Scribbles Challenge by @societynsoelsscribbles . ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications as I no longer do taglists. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
Park the Shark.
You understood quickly why people called Brendon that. Most of the Pitt were intimidated by him. He circled the place like a predator who knew was going to get his fill when he smelled blood in the water. The surgeon had the skills to back up his confidence, too, his focus sharp and his methods rapid and efficient. You believed he’d be at home in the ocean if he was a shark in another life.
But you also liked to believe that underneath his magnificent firm body that there was a soft spot.
Seriously though, how does he look so good in scrubs?
“Morning,” you called out when he walked by.
He paused and turned his head, his eyes narrowed.
“You’re early,” he said, his voice low and even.
You laughed and you swore you caught the corner of his mouth lift, like he was trying not to smile.
And he shows them pearly white.
“You say that like I’m not always early,” you teased.
“I know you are,” he uttered, angling his body to fully face you. “And you were here late last night.”
He noticed?
You shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “Case needed finishing, so I stayed.”
“Good work,” he said after a moment.
“Thanks, Park,” you said softly, your heart skipping a beat.
Dana, who stood a few feet away, stared at Brendon over her glasses. He was not a man who made small talk. He wasn’t the kind of person to throw out compliments for the hell of it either.
His jaw clenched, the subtle warmth in his eyes fading. “Let me know if anyone gives you a hard time,” he ordered before he walked away.
Dana raised an eyebrow at you.
“Not a word,” you mumbled.
But you were smiling.
Another first time character for me! What do we think? Love and thanks for reading. ❤️
It’s been another long and uneventful day at the palace. No one has come to speak to Fennec and Boba, and they haven’t gone into the city to deal with anyone. The new gang that Boba hired didn’t stay around, instead deciding to be off doing whatever it is they do. You were left mostly alone, as Fennec worked on important things, and Boba healed in the bacta tank.
As you wander back to your room, you glance into the med area to see Boba putting his armor on. You watch him for a second, admiring him and his presence. He was regal even when he wasn’t trying, a formidable sight.
“Something catch your eye, little one?” Boba asks, turning to reveal a slightly smug look on his face.
“Mmm, perhaps. I think it was the shine of your beskar.”
“Perhaps,” he agrees with a small chuckle. The room falls quiet as he continues to put his armor on. The silence is comfortable, both of you content with just being in the other’s presence. Words don’t need to be spoken between the two of you, only looks need to be exchanged to understand what the other is thinking. It was strange to you how quickly you’d become close, how quickly you grew attached to him.
“I missed you today,” you say as you look out the windows. A soft smile plays over Boba’s lips as he comes to stand by you.
“I apologize for my absence-“
“No, it’s okay. I’m glad you’re healing.”
“Actually, I have some news,” he says. You look at him curiously, and he steps back and does a little spin.
“I am now fully healed!”
“You’re fully healed?” you say, a big grin slowly coming to your lips to match his. He nods his head, and you all but jump into his arms.
“Boba, that’s amazing! Does that mean no more long bacta baths?”
“We’ll see about that,” he chuckles. “I’m not as young as I once was, and certainly not as young as you. This old man might need to use it for other healing needs.”
“Well, this old man better do his best to stay out of trouble then,” you tease, poking his chest.
“I wish it were that easy, little one,” he says with a sigh, gently taking your hand into his own. “Unfortunately, with my reputation, and being Daimyo, and the trouble with the Pykes, I’m afraid-“
“It’s okay, Boba,” you say, stepping closer and gently placing a palm on his cheek. “Just try to be as safe as possible, that’s all I ask.”
“I’ll do that for you, mesh’la,” he says, before his cheeks warm slightly and he glances down. “I’d do anything for you.” Your own cheeks warm at the confession, and you only have one desire, to gently press your lips to his, but you resist the urge.
“Would you have dinner with me before you go?” you ask, and he smiles at you again.
“Of course, my dear.” You lead the way to the kitchen where you prepare a quick meal before leading Boba into the smaller room to eat. You sit quietly, each of you just enjoying the company again. It feels right, being able to not speak but just be alone together. Being with Boba, everything is right. Ideas of a future briefly dance in your mind, but you’re pulled from those thoughts when he clears his throat, and you look up at him. He smiles gently, before slowly standing.
“I’m afraid I must be going now. I must pay Madam Garsa Fwip’s cantina another visit.”
“Hmm, you seem to enjoy that place quite a bit,” you say, doing your best to hide the slight jealousy that rose in you. You’ve seen Madam Garsa before, and you knew she liked to flirt with those in power. She herself was also quite a beautiful woman, and you silently hope that Boba doesn’t notice it.
“Unfortunately, my path seems to keep leading me there. I’d rather not waste precious time that could be spent with you.” The corner of your lips turn up slightly at that, and you don’t stop the small eye roll you give.
“You sure have some way of showing that.”
“Mesh’la,” he says, voice going serious now. You look up at him, raising a brow as he studies your face. “Do you not believe me? That I’d rather be with you?”
“I-no, I mean, yes…I don’t know.”
“What makes you doubt it?” he asks, sitting down again. You avoid his eyes, instead looking at your hands that rest on the table. He slowly reaches out and takes them into his own, and you can’t help but wish it was his skin against yours instead of his gloves.
“It’s just…you’re you. I mean, you have more important things to do than spend time with me,” you say, a sad feeling settling over you. Internally, Boba panics. He doesn’t want you to feel this way. He wants you to know how much he truly does care about you, how much he truly does love you.
“Mesh’la, little one, I’m afraid I don’t know how exactly to prove this, but I mean it with all my honesty. You are more important to me than some crime empire that I rule. You are more important to me than this palace. You are more important to me than my reputation.” You look up at him then, and his hands squeeze yours tighter.
“I…I think I-“
“Wait,” you say, interrupting him and causing him to be confused. “Don’t…don’t say it. Not yet. Just…wait. We both will.” Boba studies you for a second, reading your expression. When he sees that this is what you truly want, he nods slowly.
“Alright. I’ll wait until we’re ready.”
“Thank you, Boba.”
“Anything for you, mesh’la.” He stands then, and you stand with him. Taking a small step to close the distance, you wrap your arms around him. Your cheek presses into the cold of his armor, and his own arms wrap around you.
“Don’t get into any bar fights. I don’t want to have to send Fenn after you,” you joke, earning a chuckle from him.
“I think I’d be more scared of your reaction when I got home then I would be of her.”
“Hmm, you’re right. I would have quite the reaction,” you say, pulling back but not slipping from his grasp. Instead, you place a gentle kiss on his cheek, instantly setting his face aflame. You giggle at his reaction, watching as he tries to compose himself quickly.
“I’ll be back soon, my dear,” he says, cheeks still slightly burning from your kiss. You nod, and follow him into the throne room, where you stand and watch him leave.
“I could feel the heat from his cheeks from down the hall,” Fennec jokes as she moves to stand by you.
“Oh, leave the poor old man alone,” you joke back, and she just laughs and shakes her head.
“If you’re calling him old, then I’m ancient.”
“At least you don’t look it,” you say.
“Are you saying he does?” she jokingly accuses.
“No, I’m just saying that you don’t,” you defend.
“Better not let him hear you call him old,” she says before walking away.
“You know, I think he might like it, under the right circumstances,” you call to her retreating form. She stops to turn and send a disgusted look your way before chuckling and continuing on.
When Boba comes back, you’re sitting in his room, wrapped up in blankets and reading. You don’t know why you came in here, but it was a relaxing place. Perhaps it was the lingering smell of Boba that drew you in. The reminder of him and your connection to one another.
When Boba walks in, he’s slightly startled to see you there. He wasn’t expecting anyone in his room, and the sight of you curled up on his chair was briefly startling and confusing. He nearly reaches for his blaster, but stops his movement when he realizes it’s you.
“Mesh’la,” he says, letting out what seems to be a slight sigh, “please be more careful. I nearly grabbed my blaster when I saw you.”
“Careful?” you ask, looking up from your book to meet his gaze. “The light is on, isn’t that a sign that someone’s in here?”
“Well, yes, but…I am only human, sometimes I forget to turn lights off.”
“I guess I see your point,” you respond with a shrug, going back to your book.
“What are you doing in here, little one?” he asks, his tone shifting to a more friendly one.
“I just felt like being in here I guess,” you reply. “Wanted to be around you.”
“Perhaps I should pay more attention to you then,” he chuckles as he removes his armor.
“Yes, I think you should,” you agree seriously. He looks at you with a raised brow, amusement scattered over his face.
“Oh, is that so?” he questions, deciding to play along. You nod before standing and silently walking over to him. He looks at you curiously, a slight tilt to his head, before his expression changes to shock as you push him down onto his bed. You take his unready state to your advantage, getting on the bed and crawling over him. As you hover above him, looking down, you see his breathing is unsteady and his cheeks are burning again.
Perfect. Just what you wanted.
Leaning down close to his face, you give him a smug look.
“If you don’t give me attention, I’ll just have to take it from you,” you whisper close to his ear before pulling back and looking at him again. He visibly and audibly gulps, and before he can process anything, you’re smacking a pillow into his face.
“Wha-“ Another smack interrupts him, followed by you moving away from him with laughter.
“Big bad Boba doesn’t seem like he’s as good at fighting as he claims to be,” you say with another smack. He seems to finally realize what’s going on, and his own smug look plays over his lips.
“Oh, I see how it is,” he says, reaching to grab his own pillow. In the next moment, you’re rolling away as he tries to hit you.
“Missed me,” you tease, swinging yours towards him. He ducks, and takes your unprepared moment to land a smack.
“Not that time,” he responds, “and not this time.” Another smack, and you’re frantically crawling away again.
“Wait! Pause for a second!” you say, and Boba looks at you questioningly. “One rule, we can’t leave the bed.” Boba chuckles, but nods his head.
“Alright, no leaving the bed. Now, where were we?” he says before lunging forward and trying to smack his pillow into your face again. You let out a tiny yelp, moving away just in time before landing your own smack to the back of his head.
“Ha! Old man can’t keep up,” you tease, before he quickly whips around and smacks you.
“You were saying?” he laughs, landing another one on you. A few more minutes of dodging and swinging go on before you manage to get an advantage over Boba. After he rolls onto his back to avoid one of your swings, he finds himself in a vulnerable position. You give an evil grin before crawling back on top of him, securing him under you as you rain down blows. All he can do is lay there defenselessly, shaking the bed with his deep laughs as you hit his face.
“Ha! Looks like I’ve-AH!” You let out a yelp as Boba suddenly flips you, and now he’s above you, raining down with his pillow. Your stomach starts to hurt with how much you’re laughing, and soon you both are laying on the bed, catching your breaths and wiping the tears that fall from your amusement.
“I haven’t…had that much fun…in ages,” Boba says in between breaths and laughs.
“I’ve never had that much fun,” you say, and Boba sits up suddenly, looking down at you. His face is a mix of emotions, the same look it usually has when you mention your past and what you went through.
“It’s okay, Boba,” you say, reaching up and holding his cheek, stroking a thumb down the side. “I’m having fun with you now, that’s all that matters.”
“Hmm,” he hums, not quite satisfied with the answer, but willing to accept it. He turns slightly, holding your hand as his lips gently press to your palm. You smile at the action, your cheeks warming and heart suddenly racing for a few seconds.
“I need to tell you something,” he says, meeting your gaze again. “I’m…not sure you’ll like it.”
“What is it, Boba?” you ask, brows furrowing as you try not to jump to conclusions.
“I've hired another person,” he begins, “it’s…someone you’ve, well, sort of met.”
“Who?” you pry, and he purses his lips briefly before answering.
“Krrsantan-“
“What? You hired him? After he tried to kill you?” you ask, not bothering to hide your incredulous tone.
“Well, yes-“
“Boba, what are you thinking? What if he betrays you? What if he tries to hurt you? Or someone else here? Why would you take that risk?”
“Y/n,” he says seriously, and you look away from him, trying to hide your expression. “Do you trust me?”
“I-“ you start, and you turn to look into his eyes. They’re patient, sincere, and trusting. You feel deep down that you can truly trust him, and so you let out a breath and slowly nod.
“Yes, Boba. I trust you.”
“Then you will try to understand why I hired him. Why I’ve decided to give him a chance. I believe he will be of help, and that he won’t try to hurt anyone.”
“But what if he does?” you ask quietly. “What if, after so long, so much healing, he hurts you? And you have to go back to using the bacta tank everyday?”
“Then I’ll have to use the bacta tank every day,” he says with a shrug. “But I’m trusting him, and I’m asking you to trust me.” You sigh again, looking away before his hand gently turns you to look at him again.
“You will continue to trust me?” he asks. You smile softly, nodding your head.
“Of course, Boba. I’m just…worried.”
“I know. And you have every reason to be. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Or yourself?” you ask, a slight demanding tone in your voice. He gives a small chuckle, his finger slowly trailing to trace your cheek to your chin, looking at your lips and licking his own briefly before looking back to your eyes.
“Yes, mesh’la. I won’t let anything happen to us.”
“Good,” you say, falling back onto the bed. You close your eyes, and you feel him relax back as well. Rolling over, you rest your head on his shoulder, hand going up to play with a loose string on his shirt.
“It could always be like this,” you say quietly, and Boba turns slightly to look at you. “Peaceful, us together. Happy.”
“I am happy with you now,” he says.
“I mean…with nothing to fear.”
“There will always be something to fear,” he responds, and you let out a huff.
“You’re optimistic,” you comment sarcastically.
“No…I’m realistic,” he counters. You meet his gaze, and notice as his eyes flick down briefly again. A small smile tugs at your lips before you feel your arm pushing you up, your body leaning forwards, and your lips gently pressing against his. He lets out a slight surprised gasp before melting into the kiss. His hand comes up to gently hold your cheek, and all too soon it’s over.
“Hmm, perhaps it can always be like this,” he says, opening his eyes with a smile of his own as he looks at you. You give him a playful eye roll before looking up as Fennec appears in the doorway.
“I hate to interrupt, but we have guests,” she says. Boba sighs under you, and you let out a small sound of annoyance.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to come back to you later, my dear,” he says to you.
“It’s alright, business first,” you mutter. Before you can register what’s happening, Boba turns your face back to his and places another kiss on your lips, this one more rough and rushed.
“You are always first, little one. Always. In my heart, in my mind, in my actions.” You can’t stop the smile that splits your lips before you playfully push him away.
“Off you go,” you say, “and hurry back to me.”
“Don’t worry, my dear, I will,” he chuckles as he stands and leaves the room.
Instead of waiting for him in his room, you decide to slip down to the pit and visit the rancor again. You also want to be down there because part of the pit was under where the meeting was and you can listen in without being seen.
Boba and Fennec had insisted you stay out of this one, stay unseen. You had tried to argue, claiming Fennec was going back on her word about you being allowed to be seen. But then she explained who these people were, and you begrudgingly agreed that this was probably best.
“Hey there, big guy,” you say, walking up to the rancor. It looks at you and lets out a small greeting sound.
“Shh,” you say quickly, “they can’t know I’m here.” The rancor gives you a knowing look, or perhaps it was just looking at you, but you walk over to it and sit down, leaning against its side.
“Boba really wants me to learn to ride you with him,” you say, looking up at the room where the meeting was happening while absentmindedly beginning to scratch it. “He says I would look majestic and regal.” A slight shift from the rancor causes you to turn to face it more. It seems to smile and nod its head briefly at you, like it was agreeing with Bobas words.
“But I’m not majestic or regal,” you argue, “I was a slave. I came from nothing. And I don’t even know if I’m anything now.” With those words, the rancor suddenly stands, and you fall back at the loss of its support. It turns and looks at you directly in the eyes, as if trying to give you a reassuring look. You sigh, smiling softly at it before reaching out and scratching it again.
“I think it’s funny,” you say as you scratch under the rancors chin, it leg thumping slightly, “how everyone thinks Boba is some big bad bounty hunter. But you and I know he’s just a big, old, softy.” The rancor droops it’s mouth, letting its tongue fall out as it rolls onto its side. You laugh at the sight, moving to scratch its belly while tuning into the conversation above.
As you listen, the rancor shifts and stands, seemingly as if it’s listening as well, waiting for something. Boba talks about an agreement, one where everyone worked together to keep the Pykes from gaining too much power. Although you’ve never seen the Pykes, you know of their reputation, and you know Boba has been especially worried about them ever since he found out the Mayor was working with them.
“And why do you deserve to be the Daimyo?” one of the men asks. “What prevents us all from killing you and taking what we want?” As if on cue, the rancor roars and shoves its claws up through the grate in the floor. You giggle to yourself, hearing the confusion and frights of the men above.
“Easy boy, easy,” you hear Boba say before he hands the rancor a bone. The rancor takes it, and you walk back over to it as it calms down.
“Good job, buddy,” you whisper in a small giggle, holding your fist out to it. It gives a little happy sound and presses its fist to yours in a bump, causing you to giggle again. You have to give it to Boba. Although he isn’t always a man of showing his power, when he does, he doesn’t hold back. He makes sure everyone knows just exactly who he is, and what he can do. The thought was like a bubble of excitement in you, imagining what it would be like by his side.
The rest of the meeting seems to go by smoothly, with the men agreeing to not take sides if a war breaks out between Boba and the Pykes. Internally, you don’t know whether to be relieved or worried. You don’t want to have Boba having to worry about working with more sinister people, but you also don’t want him to have little to no help if he needs it.
As they stand up and leave, you make your way back up. You follow Fennec and Boba to the balcony, but make sure to stay hidden in case the men were to look back at the palace. Boba mentions war again, and you feel a wave of uneasiness wash over you. They stand there for another minute or so before Fennec turns and notices you. She gives a small smirk before nudging Boba who turns as well. You give him a small wave and he smiles, waving you over to join them.
“Why the worried expression, mesh’la?” he asks as you move to stand between them.
“You mentioned war again,” you respond, resting your arms against the railing.
“Ah, I see,” Boba says, looking out to where your gaze was going. Fennec quietly excuses herself, leaving you and Boba alone.
“There’s really no way to just negotiate with the Pykes? Come up with some sort of agreement that would be best for both of you?”
“I’m afraid not, little one. The Pykes are not good to make deals with. They’re slimy, like to cheat out business partners.”
“But there has to be another way, a way without war.”
“I’m open to any and all ideas, little one, but if they won’t work, then there’s not much I can do about it,” he sighs.
“But you haven’t tried yet.”
“I did, once. Long ago, when I was with the Tuskens. That was the day I returned to find them slaughtered.” You fall silent, not knowing how to respond. You now know he has personal history with them, and has tried to negotiate before, but you still don’t think war is the best, or only option.
“There has to be another way,” you say.
“You don’t doubt my abilities, do you?” he questions, looking at you again.
“No, of course not. I just…I wish there was some other way.”
“I do too, little one. I wish there was some way I could negotiate, spare you the sight of a war. I only want to do what’s best for you and our territory.”
“Our territory?” you ask, looking at him quizzically.
“Yes, me, you, Fennec, and everyone else who lives and works here.”
“Oh,” you say, cringing slightly when you hear your own unmasked disappointment.
“Have I upset you?” he quickly asks, meeting your gaze with his soft eyes.
“Oh, no Boba. I just…the way you said our territory. It…it made me think…never mind, it was stupid.”
“Mesh’la, look at me,” he says, gently turning your face as you had turned away from him. When you don’t look into his eyes, he gently strokes your cheek with his thumb. When you do finally meet his gaze, he smiles softly at you.
“Is that what you want? For this to be ours? To be by my side?”
“I-I don’t…I’m unsure, if I’m being honest,” you say.
“Explain?”
“Well, it’s just, I don’t want this life. Worrying about danger, having the responsibility of territory, having to rule over a crime empire. It’s not what I ever envisioned as my life.”
“But? There is a but, right?” he presses, and you nod.
“But I want to be by your side. To be happy with you.”
“Without the empire,” he clarifies, and you nod again. He sighs, looking out at the dune sea before you. The cool night wind brushes over you, sending a chill down your spine. Boba notices, and wraps an arm around you to pull you closer to him. Though he’s covered by cool beskar, the action warms you internally.
“I’m afraid the empire and I may not be separable, at least not at this point.”
“That’s fine, but I just…eventually, is all I ask.”
“I can’t make you any promises, and I won’t. I don’t want to break them and break your trust.”
“Being unwilling to risk breaking a promise is already something that feels untrustworthy,” you counter.
“I know, but I’d rather not disappoint you.”
“You’d never disappoint me, Boba.” You gently reach out and turn him to face you. He meets your gaze before closing his eyes and turning to kiss your palm briefly.
“You are Boba Fett. You are your father’s son. You are a legend, a crime lord, Daimyo, and…the flame that burns eternally in my soul.” Boba opens his eyes at your last words, his breath catching in his throat. You feel his face burn under your touch, an involuntary response to your words.
“Mesh’la,” he says, reaching out and holding the sides of your face before gently pressing his forehead to yours. You let out a small gasp at the action, knowing that this is a Mandalorian tradition, a keldabe kiss. You close your eyes and bask in his warmth, in his love.
“If I could, I would marry you right now,” he mumbles, and you pull away to meet his gaze at those words. He scans your expression, taking in the pure shock that lingers.
“Don’t…don’t say stuff like that,” you barely say above a whisper. His brows furrow, but you let out a small laugh. “Don’t tempt me.” He lets out his own small chuckle at your words, taking the moment to close the distance between the two of you and connect your lips.
“I think I’m the one who is tempted,” he mutters. “Should I go get Fennec to perform the ceremony?”
“Oh, shut it,” you say, playfully pushing him away. “You couldn’t handle being married to me, anyways.”
“Is that so?” he asks, his brow raised curiously.
“Mhmm.”
“And care to explain how it would be difficult?”
“Because I’m me, obviously,” you say, motioning to yourself. “I’m amazing, and I’m perfect.”
“That you are,” he agrees with a chuckle. “But how would that make it difficult?”
“Because, you would never be able to say no to me. I’d get everything I want, while you’d have to give it all to me.”
“Hmm, I might be starting to see your point, but there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do or give to you, even now.”
“Really? There’s nothing you wouldn’t give me, or do for me?”
“Nothing.”
“So, if I ask you to give me a foot massage, you’ll do it?” you ask jokingly.
“Alright, almost nothing,” he says, and you give a laugh. You spend a few more quiet minutes watching the night together, his arm holding you close and you rest your head on his shoulder. It’s surprising to you how beautiful the dune sea can be. How mysterious and enticing it is. You feel the urge to just run wildly through it, no destination, just seeing where your legs take you. But then, you don’t want to. You can’t imagine running from this life, from Boba.
“It’s getting late,” he comments after a while. You nod, eyelids feeling heavy and you turn to meet his gaze. He chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your nose before turning and leading you back inside.
“Can I sleep with you again?” you ask, and he pauses briefly before giving you a large grin.
“Why of course, little one. You are always welcome in my room, and in my bed.”
“Careful how you phrase that,” you tease, “someone might hear and suspect things.”
“Well, they can suspect all they like, because only we know what happens in there,” he replies while giving you a wink. You feel your face warm, biting your tongue to keep from responding. You just shake your head with a smile and follow him into his room, settling down for the night, and falling asleep in his arms.
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Context: Fights with Sandor aren't pretty at all ... And it takes more than a couple grunts to make a marriage work.
a/n: My first non-smut Sandor work 🥹 #bekind
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For better or for worse, Sandor Clegane was not a gentle person. His temper had propelled his career as a guard, no doubt, but there were times when he wished he hadn’t been born such a hothead. Since taking you as a wife, Sandor had been getting much better at handling and regulating his anger. With many hours poured into helping him open up, Sandor was slowly starting to learn how to communicate first and sulk later. But sometimes, when your fights got heated, his anger would slip through the cracks.
In the early days of your relationship, the topic of your fights were always about his line of work. As much as you tried to hide it from him, Sandor always knew that you despised his service to the boy-king. Because of this, Sandor often chose to lie to you about certain parts of his job, and that just infuriated you even more, fuelling your disdain for the kingsgaurd. When the pent up frustration and agitation came bubbling to the surface, you and Sandor never held back; profanities were exchanged, dishes were hurled across the room, doors were slammed… It always got messy.
Sandor would come home with blood stains on his armour and linens, and brush it off as if it were no worry. “It’s not my blood, if that’ll stop you from harping on,” he’d say gruffly as he shrugged off his soiled clothes. “Gods Sandor. How can you do this? And for the Lannisters of all people!” you’d reply, a harrowing sense of shame rising in your chest as the idea of your husband hurting another human being — deserved or not — crept into your mind. Sandor would bark back and the rest of the week would be spent in an endless back-and-forth war.
Although lately, your fights have slowly started to center around Sandor’s jealousy. You and Sandor had married young, and you were once hailed for your beauty as a bride. You possessed an astounding charm and elegance that men, including and especially Sandor, could not help but be captivated by. And he loved you for your beauty. But you would be a fool to say that your marriage had not been the talk of the town for a cruelly long time. Who could have imagined a girl so young and so enamouring as yourself would bed a man so horrifying and grotesque as The Hound?
At first, Sandor had barely paid those whispering rumours any mind. He was one of the most feared guards in the realm, why should he pay any attention to the gossip of lesser handmaidens and old housewives? Sandor was assured enough by the ferociousness of your love and devotion as a wife that no one could sway his opinion of your loyalty. But with age came change; the stumble in his gait, the softening of his jaw, the scars and flaking skin from his wounds. And while you seemed to stay as radiant as you were on the day of your wedding, Sandor had slowly become lost in his own insecurities. And so now, the whispers of doubt and creeping looks from other men felt like a living threat; a threat that Sandor could do little to fend off.
“You’re acting a fool, Sandor,” you said with gritted teeth, hands on your hips, too angry to sit beside your husband at the dining table. Sandor only scoffed and shoved another piece of chicken into his mouth.
“I’m only a fool because you’ve fucking made me one. To think my wife is going around town laughing with the butcher’s son like some common fucking wench while I work to put food on the table like a fucking cuck.”
You threw your hands up in disbelief, outraged that Sandor would ever throw these accusations at you. “Right. And my husband is such a fucking saint is he? Just doing the Lannisters bidding like a right fucking—”
“Like what?” Sandor growled, rising from his seat. A beat of silence passed between the two of you, only the sounds of your heavy breathing and the crack of the fireplace could be heard. Sandor towered over you, and for a split second, you were almost afraid that he would strike you. But he only grunted and brushed past you to the front door.
“Ungrateful whore,” he muttered, almost to himself, but loud enough for you to hear.
You snapped your head towards him. Your eyes burned with anger and betrayal. “Say that again and you will never hear from me again, Sandor Clegane,” you spat. Sandor looked at you then, just as furious as before, but he would not repeat his words. With a slam of the door behind him, he had left the house. You would go to bed alone that night, sobbing into your straw pillow until your lungs hurt and you felt like heaving.
Reconciling after a fight was almost always the hardest part. Sandor’s first instinct after every fight was to ignore the immeasurable tension and agony that passed between you two. Deny, deny, deny. You would wake up the next morning, eyes swollen, nose congested, and stumble into the common area only to find Sandor donning his guardsmen clothes ready for the day. When you fail to greet him with a lover’s embrace, Sandor would upturn his lips and shrug. “What’s with the mood huh?”
You only glance at him with eyes like daggers. “You called me an ungrateful whore last night, Sandor. Don’t be daft.”
Sandor shifted uncomfortably where he stood. “I would never say something like that. Not to you,” he said, almost like it was one big joke to him. But you didn't laugh, and your silence was somehow more piercing than if you had lashed out at him.
You could see the gears in Sandor’s head turning as he scrambled for the right words to say. “Seven Hells woman, you're killing me here. So what, you're just gonna ignore me the rest of our lives? Am I to live out my days as if I took the Black and never married?” His voice got louder with every word. Desperate. But not desperate enough to apologise. You knew his pride would never allow it. Was this the man I truly married?
“Is that what you want?” You asked in the softest voice.
Sandor was at a loss for words. You knew your question had crossed a line. Fight for me, you pleaded in your mind, tears welling up in your eyes once more. Fight for us. But Sandor’s pride would not allow him to apologise. At least not yet. Alas, the brave and valiant Hound could do no more than mumble something incoherent before disappearing out the front door, leaving you alone in a miserable silence. Your chest was heavy with exhaustion and it took every ounce of strength in you not to break down.
For the rest of the day, you busied yourself with menial tasks in an attempt to distract yourself. But you could not think of anything other than your husband. Oh, how you missed him. When things were good, Sandor could be the most devoted and loving husband in all the Seven Kingdoms. You often pitied the old housewives in the village who lamented about their burdensome husbands. Sandor had never demanded anything of you, never laid a hand on you, never took you for granted. So then how was it that it had come to this? That he had walked out of the house with no hesitation when you challenged the foundation of your marriage? Was his silence his twisted way of giving up? All these wretched thoughts raced through your mind from dawn till dusk.
You thought Sandor would not come home that evening. He did that sometimes — after a big fight he’d disappear for a day or two, Gods knew where he went — but tonight he returned to you. Your back was against the front door as you stirred a skinned chicken inside a pot of boiling broth for dinner. The familiar jingle of wind chimes outside your front door stirred your attention as Sandor entered. As he crouched slightly to fit through the door of your cottage, you spotted the bundle of wildflowers in his hand. They were crooked from too tight a grip on its stems, but they were beautiful nonetheless. Blue and yellow and white like the colours of a noble house’s banner.
Sandor didn't say a word as he crossed the room and placed the flowers on the dining table. There was a pause. You reached out to touch the flowers. They were as fresh as plucked flowers could be, still damp from the night’s drizzle.
“They’re beautiful,” you mumbled, breaking the silence and offering a tired smile to him.
Sandor inhaled deeply and clasped his two hands in front of him before he began to speak. “From the day I met you, the last thing I have ever wanted was to leave you. That is a thought that has simply never crossed my mind. I would call you ridiculous for ever suggesting so this morning, but perhaps… Perhaps I have ridiculed myself.” He took another deep breath before continuing. “You are my everything. My light, my life, I mean, fuck, you drive me insane, woman. I don’t even know why you married me; Sometimes I think the Gods have only allowed me one fortune in life and that’s you.” He began wringing his hands together, but his eyes had never left yours from the beginning. “So when some poor fucker comes whispering in my ear that you’ve warmed up to some other man, I think to myself; What if that’s it? What if she’s finally seeing her worth and realising that I’m just some sick fuck clinging onto her like dead meat? I just… I can’t… I can’t lose you…”
Your eyes stung with tears. But they were not tears of sorrow any longer.
“Sandor…” You rushed to throw your arms around him, embracing his warm body like you had a million times before. Sandor’s body immediately relaxed as he wrapped his big strong arms around your torso, lifting you off the ground with ease. The weight on his chest had disappeared as soon as he felt the warmth of your cheek to his.
With Sandor carrying you in his arms, you cupped his face with your hands, both thumbs soothing the rough skin on his cheeks. “Sandor Clegane, you stupid, stupid man. How could I ever love anyone else but you? I would die before I let you leave me, and you would have to pry the name Clegane from my cold, rotting corpse before I part from what is mine. I love you.”
The most genuine, endearing smile flashed across Sandor’s face and your heart that had been racing all day with anxiety was suddenly calm. And in that moment, with you in his arms, staring into each other’s eyes like they were the starry sky, you swore that you had never loved him more intensely than ever before.
A Jedi Master and his Commander surrender to long-suppressed passion aboard a Republic battlecruiser, where duty and desire collide in a night of intense physical connection that transcends their roles in the war.
Pairing: Plo Koon/Reader
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, power dynamics, alien anatomy
As I made my way across the expansive vessel, my gaze was drawn to a familiar figure in the distance. There, standing tall and commanding, was my dear friend and comrade, General Plo Koon, the esteemed leader of the Wolfpack.
Sensing my approach, Plo turned his head, his piercing gaze meeting mine. "General," I acknowledged him with a respectful nod, my voice carrying a warmth that belied the formality of the title.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Plo's lips as he greeted me in return. "Hello, my friend," he responded, his deep, resonant voice carrying a weight of experience and wisdom.
I couldn't help but mirror his expression, a genuine smile spreading across my face as I reveled in this moment of camaraderie amidst the hustle and bustle of our assigned duties. In the midst of the ongoing conflict, it was moments like these that provided a much-needed respite, a chance to connect with those who shared in the burden of our responsibilities.
"Wolffe said you asked for me," I say, the corners of my lips curling upwards into a warm smile as I meet Plo Koon's gaze.
The Jedi Master nods, a hint of acknowledgment in his expression. "Indeed," he responds, his deep, resonant voice carrying a sense of purpose. Extending his hand, he gestures towards the corridor. "Come, walk with me to my quarters. There is something I wish to discuss with you."
Without hesitation, I fall into step beside the esteemed general, my stride matching his own as we make our way through the bustling ship. The familiar hum of the engines and the occasional chatter of the crew members provide a soothing backdrop to our journey.
As we approach Plo's private quarters, I can't help but feel a sense of anticipation. The fact that he has specifically requested my presence suggests that this is no ordinary encounter. I wonder what insights or instructions he might have to share, and I am eager to lend my full attention to whatever he has in mind.
Reaching the door, Plo pauses briefly, his hand hovering over the access panel. "After you," he says, a subtle invitation for me to precede him into the sanctum of his personal space.
As I step into Plo Koon's quarters, I can't help but take in the serene and well-appointed surroundings. The room has a sense of order and tranquility, reflecting the Jedi Master's disciplined nature.
My gaze sweeps across the space, and my eyes are drawn to a particular item that catches my attention. On a small side table, there is an image that immediately piques my curiosity. Upon closer inspection, I realize that it is a photograph of... myself?
I feel a slight flush creep across my cheeks as I take in the image. It appears to be from a modeling shoot, where I am wearing a rather revealing outfit, with delicate wings draped lazily across my hips, partially obscuring my figure.
I can't help but feel a twinge of surprise and uncertainty. Why would Plo Koon have such a personal item in his private quarters? Is there some deeper meaning or significance behind it?
Glancing back at the Jedi Master, I offer a small, slightly self-conscious smile, unsure of how to address this unexpected discovery. "General, I... I'm not sure what to make of this," I admit, my voice soft and hesitant.
Plo Koon's response takes me by surprise, as he shakes his head and offers a reassuring smile. "You don't need to think anything of it," he says, his deep voice carrying a hint of warmth. "I simply thought you looked more beautiful than any other female Jedi in our troop."
I can't help but feel a flush creep across my cheeks at his words, my heart fluttering with a mix of emotions. Before I can respond, Plo sighs heavily, his gaze turning pensive.
"Plo, there's something here, isn't there?" I ask tentatively, my ears twitching as I tilt my head, seeking to understand the unspoken feelings lingering in the air.
Instead of answering, Plo reaches out and gently takes my hand, his clawed fingers caressing my skin with a surprising tenderness. Slowly, he brings his other hand to cup my snout, his touch feather-light as he trails his claws along the contours of my face.
"I'd rather see you in that outfit," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate, "if you so please."
I'm taken aback by the vulnerability and desire in his words, my breath catching in my throat. The air between us seems to crackle with an undeniable tension, and I find myself hesitating, unsure of how to respond.
I pause for a moment, my lips parting as I try to find the right words. "I..." I start, then shake my head slightly. "Sure," I respond, my voice soft and filled with a hint of anticipation.
Without further hesitation, I begin to remove my hooded cloak, letting the fabric slide off my shoulders and pool at my feet. I can feel Plo's heated gaze upon me, and it sends a familiar flush across my skin, even though I've done this countless times before.
As I stand before him, clad only in a skimpy bra and panties, I can't help but feel a sense of vulnerability. But there's also an underlying excitement, a thrill that comes from the knowledge that this is what Plo desires to see.
The Jedi Master's breath hitches as he takes in my partially revealed form, his eyes drinking in the sight before him. Slowly, he reaches out, his clawed fingers tracing the delicate curves of my body, sending shivers down my spine.
The tension in the air is palpable, and I find myself drawn to Plo, my own desire mirroring his own. I lean in, my lips hovering near his, the anticipation building between us.
Plo pulls you closer, his masked face inches from yours, eyes burning with an intensity that makes your heart race beneath your armor. “Are you certain this is what you desire?” he asks, his voice a low rumble through his antiox mask. You nod, your voice barely audible over the hum of the cruiser’s engines: ”Yes, Master Plo.” Your confession comes with a trembling breath, ”I’ve wanted this since our first mission together.”
Though his Kel Dor features remain partially hidden, you sense his expression change—a warrior’s promise in the dim light of his quarters. When he removes his breathing apparatus with deliberate care, your bodies meet with the urgency of battle: his alien features press against yours, the kiss transforming into something primal, desperate. His taloned fingers trace the contours of your back with surprising gentleness before finding their way beneath your undergarments, expertly teasing your sensitive peaks until they harden beneath his touch, each careful stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through you like Force lightning.
He guides you back onto the military-issue cot with the same tactical precision he commands battalions, his taloned fingers hooking beneath the waistband of your undergarments. The durasteel floor beneath reflects the dim blue emergency lighting as he slides the fabric down your thighs with excruciating deliberation, the cool recycled air of the battlecruiser raising goosebumps across your exposed flesh. Your breath catches in your throat—"I thought Jedi Masters were supposed to show restraint— Force!" The word transforms into a strangled cry as his roughened talon pad circles your slick, swollen bud with devastating accuracy. His breath, alien and hot against the sensitive shell of your ear, carries a primal growl that resonates through your very core: "Tonight, I follow no Code but the ancient one between bodies. Now be silent while I claim what's mine."
"Your body betrays you, young one," he rasps, his taloned digit leaving a trail of fire down the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The touch is precise, deliberate—a warrior's calculated move. "I sense your arousal through the Force. It pulses like a battle drum."
Before your lips can form a response, his weathered talon slides between your folds with practiced efficiency, curling upward to find that hidden place that makes Republic soldiers and Jedi alike surrender to baser instincts. Your back arches against the military-grade sheets as the invasion sends electric currents cascading through your neural pathways.
"Master Plo—I... yes," the confession escapes between ragged breaths, your voice a hoarse whisper in the recycled atmosphere of the battlecruiser. Your admission of desire triggers something primal in the Kel Dor Jedi—his chest rumbles with a guttural laugh that reverberates through every molecule of your being, stimulating nerve endings you never knew existed.
His mask catches the crimson emergency lights as he leans closer, his alien breath hot against your neck. "The Council speaks of balance in all things," he growls, adding a second talon alongside the first, stretching you with exquisite precision. "When next our bodies meet in combat, you shall command the battlefield. Is that understood, Commander?"
Your affirmation dissolves into a desperate moan as you surrender completely to his masterful assault, your body's defenses thoroughly and gloriously breached.
His posture shifts with the sudden alertness of a warrior sensing danger, muscles tensing beneath alien skin. Your eyes are drawn downward to his engorged member—intimidating and magnificent—pulsating with an almost hypnotic rhythm against the battle-worn flesh of your thigh. The biological marvel before you glistens in the low-light of the cruiser's emergency systems, thick veins mapping its considerable length like hyperspace routes across a tactical display.
A sound escapes him that no Council meeting has ever witnessed—primal and untamed—as he positions himself against you with deliberate pressure. The heat radiating from his arousal feels like standing too close to a lightsaber's plasma core, threatening to brand your skin with his ownership.
"Behold what you have awakened," he commands, his voice dropping to frequencies that make the durasteel walls of his quarters vibrate in sympathy. His hips thrust forward with controlled aggression, the disciplined movements betraying his decades of combat training. "The Force flows between us, connecting us as one. All of this power, this strength..."
His talons dig into the military-grade sheets beside your head, tearing through the fabric with frightening ease. "...exists now only to claim you completely."
He plunges into you without warning, the initial penetration extracting a startled gasp that would be unbecoming of a tactical commander on the bridge. Your body instinctively arches against the Republic-issued mattress, the standard-grade fabric beneath you growing damp with evidence of your shared exertion. Each calculated thrust sends ripples across your form, your breasts swaying in hypnotic rhythm with his military precision. Your inner walls pulse around his alien length, contracting with each forward advance like planetary defense systems responding to invasion.
The recycled air of the battlecruiser fills with the symphony of your coupling—his labored exhalations through the respiratory apparatus creating a mechanical counterpoint to your softer gasps. Against the sensitive shell of your ear, his voice fragments between precisely timed thrusts:
"By the Force—your body accepts mine as if manufactured for this purpose. I have calculated this probability since our extraction from the Ryloth engagement. That moment in the maintenance bay... this tactical maneuver has occupied my strategic planning ever since."
His Kel Dor inflections transform into something ancient and possessive, words pressed into your skin like classified intelligence as his combat-honed hips accelerate their assault. The rhythm becomes relentless, each impact reverberating through the durasteel frame beneath you, conquering territory he has analyzed and coveted through countless hyperspace jumps.
Without warning, he withdraws completely—his body tensing as he reaches his peak, hot ropes of cum painting your stomach and breasts in glistening trails. His eyes lock with yours, pupils blown wide with primal satisfaction. "Fuck," he gasps, voice raw and broken, "Mine. Only ever yours."
But your own release remains tantalizingly out of reach. He notices—of course he does—and his lips curve into that devastatingly confident smirk that first drew you to him. His strong hands grip your hips with bruising intensity, lifting you slightly. "Your turn," he murmurs, voice deep with promise. "Show me what you need."
Something unleashes inside you—that wild, untamed part that's always craved control. You straddle him with newfound urgency, grinding against his still-hard length. The friction is exquisite, electricity sparking from every point of contact. You set a punishing pace, using his body for your pleasure with single-minded determination.
When your orgasm finally hits, it's catastrophic—a supernova of sensation that tears a scream from your throat. Your release gushes between your thighs, soaking him, the sheets, everything in your essence. His answering moan borders on reverent as your nails carve crimson crescents into the muscled plane of his chest. In this moment of perfect surrender, the marks you leave are as permanent as the ones he's left on your soul—visible proof that you've claimed each other completely.
You murmur a "thank you" against the sensitive shell of his ear—your voice a broken whisper, raw from screaming his name into the darkness. Your breath comes in ragged pants against his sweat-slicked skin, bodies still trembling with aftershocks of shared pleasure. He responds by capturing your mouth in a kiss so ferocious it borders on violence—teeth clashing, tongues dueling for dominance, the metallic tang of blood mingling with the salt of exertion.
When he finally breaks away, his pupils are still blown wide with primal satisfaction, lips swollen from your mutual hunger. His calloused hands cradle your face with unexpected tenderness, thumbs tracing the iridescent scales along your jawline. Each stroke ignites tiny sparks beneath your skin, the hypersensitivity of post-orgasmic bliss making even this gentle touch feel electric. His eyes—those endless depths that have witnessed galaxies burn and stars die—glisten with something dangerously close to vulnerability as he whispers: "I'm sorry I didn't claim you sooner."
A tired chuckle rumbles deep in your chest cavity, vibrating against his palm where it rests possessively against your sternum, feeling the double heartbeat that is unique to your species. "You never could have... before." The unspoken truth stretches between you like an invisible tether, binding your souls more permanently than the physical evidence of your coupling still drying on your intertwined bodies.
Dragons bond for eternity—this sacred knowledge hums in your blood, courses through the ancient magic woven into your very DNA. One mate. One fire. One destiny. The passion you harbor for him has always smoldered beneath your armored scales, patient as primordial magma flowing beneath the earth's crust, inexorable as the gravitational pull between celestial bodies. Your souls recognized each other long before your bodies joined in this cosmic dance—two beings forged in different fires yet perfectly matched, like twin blades crafted from the same meteorite.
Ahhh sorry this is like 4 days late, but who’s really counting? (I am. Every second) I also kinda hate this chapter, as I didn’t enjoy the latest episode very much and had like no inspiration. Oh well
Master List
Chapter Two
Part Four
Chapter Three
The next morning when you wake up, the sun is filtering in through the window. You take a second to enjoy the warmth of the blankets as they hold you, and your tired mind slips for a second and lets you imagine that it’s Boba’s arms wrapped around you. You quickly stop yourself though, a slight warmth coming to your cheeks as you mentally tell yourself that you can’t think that way about him. He’s your boss, he freed you and offered you protection and a place to stay. You should respect him by not having unprofessional thoughts about him.
Sighing, you groan slightly as you decide it’s time to get up and leave your bed. You change into your clothes for the day and head down to the kitchen to make something to eat. It’s quiet and the palace seems empty, so you assume Fennec and Boba are still asleep. You decide to make a big meal, hoping they’ll enjoy the surprise when they come to eat.
As you work, you absentmindedly start to hum the Mandalorian tunes Boba had hummed around you. The way he would hum so perfectly had infatuated you, and you attempt to make the same beautiful sounds, though it doesn’t compare to him.
Unbeknownst to you, Boba had come down from his room, and is now leaning on the doorway as he watches and listens. A smile that matches your own is on his lips, and he can’t help but admire you. The rays of light coming into the room highlight your best features, and he doesn’t think he can come up with a compliment that would be fitting, so he just silently admires you.
When you turn to go set the table, you suddenly notice him and startle, nearly dropping the bowls you’re holding.
“Oh!” you say, your cheeks heating as he chuckles, “I didn’t know you were up.”
“I wasn’t, but then I was,” he says, walking over. “Sorry for the startle, mesh’la.”
“It’s alright. Here, I made some for everyone,” you say, handing him a bowl. He nods appreciatively before starting to say something, only to be interrupted by Fennec as she walks in.
“Something smells good,” she says, walking over to the two of you. You smile and hold out the other bowl for her, which she happily takes.
“I made us all breakfast,” you say.
“Thank you, maybe we can all eat together for once, if Boba doesn’t mind sharing you,” she smirks.
“They are not mine to share,” Boba retorts.
“Is that why you take them and hide them away with you whenever you eat?”
“I simply think that two people using such a large table is a silly thing,” Boba defends. You just laugh to yourself before moving to sit down.
“Sit here,” Fennec says, and you take the chair slightly closer to her than Boba. Boba seems like he’s going to counter, but he just closes his mouth and looks down at his food.
“So, did you sleep well last night?” Fennec asks.
“Yes, well enough that I had to force myself to get up this morning,” you joke. “And you?”
“Like a queen,” Fennec responds.
“I slept good as well,” Boba pipes up, and you give him a brief smile before turning back to Fennec. You miss the way he glares at Fennec, only noticing the brief flash of amusement in her eyes.
“Do you think that you could maybe teach me to fight? Both with and without weapons?” you ask, and she raises a brow before smirking.
“You want to know how to fight, huh? I could show you a few things.”
“I could also show you a few of my own tricks,” Boba adds, but your attention remains on Fennec.
“Thank you. I just want to be able to take care of myself, especially if I go out into the city, or if something happens while you’re gone. I don’t want to be defenseless.”
“Well, you certainly won’t be defenseless when I’m done training you,” Fennec responds.
“When we’re done training you,” Boba says. You look at Boba again, and he quickly hides the look he was giving Fennec and replaces it with a kind one.
“They asked me for help,” Fennec counters, pointing at him with her spoon.
“Yes, but I can help as well. The more experience the better.”
“I’ll happily learn from either of you, or both of you,” you say, interrupting their little argument. “But, I was wanting Fennec specifically.”
“See?” Fennec says.
“Alright, Fennec shall train you to fight, then,” Boba says, and you pick up on the slight jealous lilt to his voice.
“You can as well. I’ll appreciate any training I receive,” you reassure him, and he gives you a small smile in response. You continue your meal with small talk, mainly Boba and Fennec discussing business while you pretend to listen. None of it really interested you, so you didn’t pay much attention. Instead, you let your mind wander, going to far away lands and thinking of things from distant realities. Your thoughts are broken when Boba speaks directly to you.
“This was a delicious meal, y/n,” Boba says when he finishes. He has a content look on his face, looking down at the now empty bowl.
“It’s one of the dishes the Zygerrians used to have us make a lot,” you explain. The content look dissolves into one of disgust and hatred, a grumble leaving his lips.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you-“
“No, my dear, you didn’t upset me,” he assures you. “I just wish you could have learned this in a better way, and from better people.”
“Well, now I have better people to learn from, in better ways,” you say. That brings the smile back to Boba’s lips as his eyes meet yours, and you both lose yourselves in each other’s eyes until Fennec clears her throat.
“Y/n, why don’t you find something to do for a bit. Me and Boba will be in the throne room for a briefing if you need us.”
“Of course, Fen. I’ll clean up here and then I’ll probably just head to my room.” They both nod, standing from their seats and walking into the throne room, leaving you to clean up. It doesn’t take you long, and as you’re walking back to your room, you can’t help but hear something that sparks your interest.
“And the assassins?” Boba asks the droid. Assassins? You didn’t know about any assassins, unless those were the people who attacked them the first day you were here. They hadn’t told you it was that serious.
“The mayor has no power. Somebody else is behind that play,” Fennec says.
“The Hutts.”
“Could be. You want me to ask around?”
“Would they know if you did?”
“We should assume so,” Fennec replies, giving a slight smirk.
“We should wait,” Boba says before one of the Gamorrean guards speaks.
“One of your vassals seeks an audience with you,” the droid states. You don’t pay much attention now, your mind going back to the assassins. Why hadn’t they told you how serious it was? Not that it was any of your business, but you care about them, you want to know if their lives are in danger. Of course, they always would be, given who they are, but you want to be informed of important things.
“…No one respects you,” Lortha Peel, whose name you barely caught, says, catching your attention again. No one respects Boba? How could they not? You just have to take one glimpse at him to know where you stand, where he stands, the power he holds. You lean closer, staying hidden while listening.
“And I am insulted on your behalf at the disrespect these urchins are showing you.” Who does this man think he is? Insulting Boba and then claiming to be insulted on his behalf.
“Especially in light of the uh, well, you know…” Lortha trails off.
“What?” Boba asks after a slight pause.
“The assassination attempt.” You scoff before quickly covering your mouth, hoping no one heard you. Were you the only person who didn’t know how serious the attack was? Or did they just assume that you’d think it was an assassination attempt, because that’s usually what attacks were?
Lortha speaks again about being insulted on Boba’s behalf, this time because street gangs were stealing his inventory. You can’t help but think that maybe this man was giving them a reason to steal, as he doesn’t strike you as a very good man.
As Lortha describes the gang to Boba, you can’t help but let your imagination wander. A gang of half-human, half-machine people sounded quite interesting to you, though you hoped to never meet them, especially under bad circumstances.
“I beseech you, Lord Fett, rid the streets of Mos Espa of this scourge and I will double my tribute to you.” You find yourself hoping that Boba and Fennec look more into this before agreeing, but before you hear their answer, you’re startled by someone grabbing you. You turn to see one of the Gamorrean guards, and it tilts its head at you before looking into the room. When you turn back, Boba and Fennec are quietly talking, and Lortha is no longer there. You assume he has left, and so you wait a few more seconds, as to not seem suspicious, before walking in.
“So, was the briefing and the petition interesting to you?” Fennec asks as she looks at you, and your cheeks instantly warm in embarrassment.
“I-uh, hmm?”
“Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t know,” Fennec says. “It’s my duty to know where everyone in this palace is, and so I knew that you were listening.”
“I apologize, for eavesdropping,” you say, eyes meeting Boba’s for a second before looking down.
“It’s alright, little one. Just be careful, don’t let yourself be seen or caught by anyone outside of us.” You nod, and your eyes flick up to see his gentle smile.
“So, are you going to help him?” you question, and they exchange a look.
“We are going to go see about it tonight. This gang can’t be left to terrorize our citizens, but we must also hear their side of the story. I’m hoping no conflict will come of this.”
“I’m hoping to finally get to use this,” Fennec mumbles, looking at her rifle. You laugh slightly before another thought comes to your mind, and you fold your arms over your chest before giving them both an accusing look.
“So, did you just assume I thought that the attack from the other day was an assassination attempt, or did you purposely not tell me that’s what it was?” Bobas expression is slightly surprised, and Fennec just raises a brow at you.
“Neither really,” she says, “because it’s not something you really need to know.”
“But I care about you guys. We’re friends, right? Boba, you call me mesh’la, that’s a word to refer to a friend.”
“Yeah, Boba. Mesh’la means friend,” Fennec says, and Boba shoots her a brief look.
“Of course we’re friends,” he says, internally cringing at the word, “but I don’t want to worry you about me.”
“Well, tough, because I’m always going to be worried about you. I know who and what you are, I understand that there will always be danger for you, but I just want to be included in the important things.”
“Very well, little one. We will include you in important things from now on.”
“We will?” Fennec asks, and Boba nods.
“Yes. Y/n is a part of our found family now, they deserve to be informed, as they wish.”
“Yet you wish to keep them hidden from the world?” Fennec questions, and Boba opens his mouth before closing it, narrowing his eyes at her.
“Y/n, if you’ll excuse us,” he says, looking at you briefly to motion for you to leave.
“Of course, Boba,” you say, turning and leaving, heading to your room.
“You have to make a choice, Boba. Either you treat them with the freedom you promised, and grant them their wishes, or you keep them under wraps.”
“They asked to be included in things,” he counters, “they didn’t ask to be allowed to be seen by the people who come here.”
“You can’t keep them hidden forever, it’s not fair. Plus, they’re an adult. They can take care of themselves,” Fennec says. “If you’re willing to tell them things, then you need to be willing to let them be known as well.”
“I’m just worried, Fen. What if the wrong person finds out about them? What if something happens to them because of me?”
“It’s a risk everyone takes by knowing us.”
“I don’t want to bring them danger.”
“Then make them leave,” Fennec says, and Boba snaps his head to meet her gaze. “It’s the only way to protect them fully. If they don’t know you, if they aren’t around you, then you can’t be the reason they’re in danger.”
“I’d never ask them to leave,” Boba says, shaking his head.
“Then they’ll be in danger because of you.” Boba sighs, he knows Fennec is right. But if he doesn’t protect you, then who will? Sure, there is probably someone else out there to keep you safe, but he wants to be that person. He wants to be the one who comes home at night to be happily greeted by you, your arms wrapping around him as he holds you close. He wants to be the one to stand at your side, ready to step up if anyone threatens you in any way.
“Look, they’re not going to want to hide forever. It’s best to let them have that freedom now, then wait until they grow bitter, because if they grow bitter, they may never be your actual mesh’la.”
“I see your point,” Boba sighs, “I’ll have a talk with them later.”
“Well, then I’m going to start our training. I think they’ll be a good fighter.”
“If you teach them well, they will be.” Fennec just nods, turning and leaving the room, leaving Boba to his thoughts.
“Y/n, you busy?” Fennec says, stepping into your room. You look up from your book and shake your head. “Good, you feel up for some training?”
“Oh, we’re starting today?” you ask, and she shrugs.
“Better to start as soon as possible so that you can feel, and be, safer.”
“Alright. Is Boba going to help?”
“No, he’s got some things he needs to do right now,” Fennec says, leading you from the room to a set of stairs you’ve never seen. You hesitate, they seem to be heading down somewhere dark, and you’re not a fan of it.
“Where do these lead to?” you ask, stepping down the first few.
“To the pit, where the rancor used to be. Don’t worry, there’s nothing down here. It’s the best place I could think of, it’s got softer ground than the solid stone up there,” she explains as you walk into the pit area.
“Definitely doesn’t smell better,” you say, scrunching your face as the sour scent fills your nose.
“Well, would you rather be outside in the heat?”
“No,” you reply.
“Then let’s focus on why we’re down here. Tell me, do you know anything about fighting?”
“Uh, not really,” you say. “Just to go for the parts that hurt.”
“Yes and no,” she replies. “If you want to cause pain, or make them angry, then yes. But if you want to get out, then you go for the damaging spots. Here, pretend like you’re about to grab my wrist.” You do as Fennec says, reaching out for her wrist. She lets you grab it before yanking her arm back, causing you to stumble forward. She rolls her wrist, twisting it out of your grip and swipes out your legs while pushing you back, causing you to fall to the ground.
“Ow,” you say, rubbing the back of your head.
“That’s a simple move to get out of a wrist grab, though your grip was very weak. That one is going to be very important when dealing with gross people who will try to take advantage of you.”
“And how often will that happen?” you ask, and she shrugs her shoulders.
“Depends, really. But it’s always good to be prepared, either way. I’ll take you through it step by step, and let you practice a few times.” You nod, and stand up off the ground. She moves to be in front of you and grabs your wrist. You fight back the wince at her grip, already feeling your hand going slightly tingly.
“Now, jerk your arm back towards your body,” she instructs, and you do so. “This doesn’t really do much other than unbalance your enemy slightly. Now, roll your hand so that you’re about to grab my own wrist.” You do, and gasp slightly in surprise when her tight grip is suddenly broken.
“Use this leg to sweep my feet, and push me down as well. You can pull my arm if you want, but that might not help a lot.” You once again follow her instructions, and she falls back to the ground, catching herself skillfully.
“Not bad, but you definitely couldn’t have taken me down if I was actually trying,” she says.
“Then I guess we’ll have to practice until I can,” you say, and she gives a short laugh before stepping up to you again. You spend what feels like hours repeating the technique, slowly becoming more and more effective. When she feels that you’re ready, she moves on and shows you more techniques that you also spend lots of time practicing.
As you train, you find yourselves talking and getting to know each other more. Fennec shares stories about her life, and you share your own. She even opens up to you about the woman she goes to visit, and you can’t help but hope for the best for them.
By the time you’re almost done, you feel as though your muscles will be aching for millennia. You’ve worked up a sweat, breath running slightly short as you keep pushing. You can feel that you desperately need a break, and hope that after this she lets you take a pause.
“Guard up,” she says, lunging towards you. You step out of the way, blocking her before stepping in with your own attack. She counters you, grabbing your arm and attempting to throw you to the ground. You stop her though, swinging your arm around and trapping hers under it. You step so that one leg is behind hers, using your free arm to swing up and push against her throat as your leg sweeps hers out. She falls to the ground, catching herself again.
“Not bad. I think you could win against a 13 year old,” she comments, and you roll your eyes.
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“It’s supposed to be a, ‘you did good for your first day, but you’re nowhere near defending yourself when it comes to real threats’,” she says.
“Then I guess we’ll have to keep it up,” you reply. “After I have a break.”
“Not today, we’ve already spent enough time training. Me and Boba have that gang to go deal with, and you need to rest.”
“You’re going to talk first then shoot, right?” you ask as you follow her back up the stairs.
“We’ll see,” she replies with a slight chuckle. When you reach the top, Boba walks into the throne room while adjusting his armor.
“I see you’ve worked them quite a bit,” he comments as he takes in your disheveled state.
“They’re definitely better than when we started, but still needs quite a bit of work.”
“Perhaps I can help as well,” Boba says.
“I’d love that,” you agree.
“Well, please, enjoy the palace while we are away. We shouldn’t be gone for terribly long. I’m hoping all goes smoothly.”
“When does anything ever go smoothly for us?” Fennec asks as she makes her way towards the stairs.
“Before the bad parts,” Boba responds, earning a laugh from you. “Be safe, mesh’la.”
“I should be telling you that,” you reply as you watch them leave. A large grumble from your stomach reminds you that you haven’t eaten in a while, and so you head to the kitchen to have a meal.
A while after you’ve finished eating, you find yourself alone in your room. You’ve finished reading the second book in the series Boba has, and you feel restless. Getting up, you wander around until you find a small radio. You smile to yourself before grabbing it and taking it to your room. Once in there, you turn it on and switch around until you find a good song. Turning it up loudly, you begin to move to the beat.
At first, you just nod your head and move your body slightly, but eventually you find yourself fully diving into dancing. You laugh to yourself as you move around your room, and let the music surround you. Despite your sore muscles from earlier, you feel as though you could dance for hours.
Since you have the radio turned up loud, you’re unaware of when Boba and Fennec return. The music covers any sounds or calling of your name, and you continue to enjoy yourself as Boba searches for you. It doesn’t take him long to find you, simply following the sound of the radio to your room.
He watches you for a minute in your doorway, a smile covering his face before he steps in. You don’t notice him, and so he decides to move to grab your wrist and pull you in to dance with him. However, he doesn’t realize it until it’s too late that he made a mistake.
You feel his hand close around your wrist, and you immediately react. Somehow, in your startled and unexpecting state, you manage to skillfully go through the moves Fennec had taught you earlier, and before you can register who he is, Boba is laying on the ground, groaning while holding his head.
“Oh, Kriff! Boba I’m so sorry!” you say when you look down and realize it’s him. He chuckles, however, sitting up and rubbing his head.
“Please, do not apologize. I am glad you reacted that way, it was my mistake for grabbing you without you knowing I was there.” When he stands up, you still have a slightly guilty look on your face, so he reaches up and holds your cheek, looking into your eyes.
“Don’t fret, little one. I promise, I’m more proud than anything that you can protect yourself like that.”
“Well, if anything you should thank Fennec. She’s the one that taught me.”
“That I have already done,” he says before taking his hand away. “There’s something I need to discuss with you.”
“That sounds serious,” you comment, and he tilts his head back and forth a few times.
“Eh, more or less. It all depends on how you personally see it.”
“Well now it just sounds confusing,” you laugh. You turn the radio off, sitting on your bed as he stands at the edge.
“There’s actually a few things,” he says. “Firstly, Fennec and I had a conversation earlier, and we believe that it’s best to not force you to hide anymore. You are a free person, and if you choose to be known by those who come to the palace, then that is your choice. We cannot hide you away, it would not be fair.”
“Oh,” you say, slightly surprised. “That’s not what I was expecting.”
“Fennec was very insistent that I give you this freedom. Although I wish to protect you as much as possible, she informed me that I should not keep you locked away.”
“You weren’t necessarily keeping me locked away,” you say, “you were just…keeping me secret.”
“Yes, well, she’s right. You are free now, and I should not restrict you, no matter what my intentions may be.”
“I appreciate it, Boba. The caring and the realizing I need to be given my freedom.”
“I will still do everything else that I can to ensure your safety,” Boba says, causing your cheeks to heat slightly as you look away from him. “Another thing we need to discuss, or, more like I need to inform you of, is…we now have more people here.”
“More people?” you ask, and he nods.
“The gang that was stealing from the man. I hired them, and they will be working for us now.”
“Is that safe? I mean, they won’t betray you?”
“One can never be sure about that, but I have strong hopes that they will be loyal. I am providing money and a place to stay, as well as work. I should hope they don’t betray my generosity.”
“Hmm,” you hum, simply nodding at his response. You move on your bed so that you’re laying down now, but you still have him in your sight. You let yourself relax, closing your eyes for a second as your body melts into the bed.
“You said there were a few things, is there something else you wanted to discuss?” you ask after a minute, opening an eye to see him looking at you. He seems to be internally debating something, the want to speak evident in his expression, but you can also see the reluctance. You wait patiently before he slowly opens his mouth.
“I, Uh…well, you see-um,” he says, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. He meets your gaze again, and all the confidence that he seemed to have built up seconds before slips away.
“Actually, it’s not important.”
“Are you sure?” you question, propping yourself up on one elbow. Boba debates your question, considering saying what he wants to, but shakes his head and gives a small smile.
“In time, mesh’la. For now, I will say ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.” You look at him with a blank expression, raising a brow expectantly. “It’s a mando’a phrase, one I will teach you in time.”
“Alright,” you say, shrugging and letting yourself fall back onto your bed. Boba chuckles, briefly grabbing your hand and giving it a gentle kiss before heading to your door.
“Goodnight, mesh’la,” he says.
“Goodnight, mesh’la,” you respond.
In the middle of the night, you find yourself tossing and turning. You have an uneasy feeling about something, and you’re unable to settle down to sleep. Something feels off, and you can’t help but wonder if it’s the thought of the new people, that you have yet to meet, that is causing you to feel this way.
You eventually sit up in your bed, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness before getting up and turning on a dim light. You move to your window, a shiver running down your spine as your arm meets the cold stone. You peer out at the city below, the streets barely lit, and the market empty. You can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be down there now, in the quiet streets, walking with someone special, perhaps Boba.
A loud noise from down the hall pulls you from your thoughts, and the growl that follows sends another shiver down your spine. You’re frozen where you are, hearing the sounds of a Wookiee as it attacks Boba.
Boba. You suddenly snap out of your state and run to your door. When you open it, someone running by pauses for a second and looks at you.
“Sorry, this is our fight,” the person says before they hit the button for your door to close.
“Hey! Let me out!” you yell, trying to press the button on your side, but nothing happens. “You can't just lock me in my room!” The sounds of fighting flood down the hall, and you don’t know whether to feel relieved you don’t have to be a part of it, or upset that you can’t help. Though it’s probably best that you stay out of it, you wish you could do something useful. A few moments later, you hear the sounds of the Gamorrean guards joining the fight. Loud squeals erupt, followed by muffled sounds of tumbling.
The fighting sounds more distant now, as if it was coming from the throne room. You start banging on your door, yelling for someone to let you out. After a few moments, the door opens and you see Boba standing there.
“Boba! Are you okay?” you ask, immediately reaching out to him. He grabs your hands and nods, keeping you from leaving your room.
“I need you to stay here, okay? I will be right back.”
“But-“
“Please, y/n. So I know you’re safe.” You just look at him for a second before nodding. “Thank you, ner cyare.”
“What?” you ask as he walks away.
“More Mando’a,” he replies simply as he starts to head down to the throne room. You just huff and fold your arms, moving back into your room to wait. When he comes back, you’re sitting on your bed, and look up expectantly when he enters.
“Are you okay?” you ask, immediately standing and going to him.
“I’m fine, mesh’la. It was just another assassination attempt.”
“Don’t say it so casually,” you retort, giving him a slight shove. “I was scared. I heard the Wookiee, and then the fighting, and I thought-“
“I’m okay, my dear,” he says, cutting you off. You look into his eyes, and let out a sigh before sitting back on your bed.
“I don’t like this.”
“Like what?”
“You always being in danger. I don’t want to have to always be worried.”
“I appreciate your concern for me,” he says, moving closer to you, “but I promise you, I will always be okay.”
“You better not break that promise,” you say, earning a chuckle from him.
“I won’t. Now, try to get some sleep. I’m right across the hall if you need anything.” You nod, crawling back under the covers before attempting to sleep again.
As you try to fall asleep, the sounds of the angry Wookiee in the pit keep you awake. You toss and turn again, desperately trying to get comfortable enough to ignore the growls. You give up after a while, slipping from under the covers to leave your room. Without really knowing why, you end up going to Boba’s door, gently knocking on it and holding your breath as you wait for a response.
“Come in,” he replies, and you hesitate, your hand close to the button as you question yourself as to what you were doing. As you’re about to push it, the door opens and you startle, seeing Boba standing there with a tired smile.
“Hello, little one. Still can’t sleep?”
“No, the Wookiee…it’s too loud, and I’m kind of scared of it,” you admit.
“Ah, well, I assure you, it’s trapped in the pit. It cannot get out and hurt you.”
“I know, but…I don’t know what I need to help.” Boba stands there, his face full of thought for a second before he looks at you again. His expression is a mixture of shyness and care.
“Would you like to sleep in here with me for the night? Do you think being around someone else would help?” Your mouth drops slightly, and you thank the Maker that it’s night so that Boba doesn’t see how flustered you got. Your cheeks burn, and you bite your lip for a second before nodding.
“Yes…I think that might help. If it’s not too much to ask-“
“Mesh’la, you didn’t ask, I did,” he chuckles, stepping aside to let you in. His room isn’t much bigger than yours, and is set up very similarly. You stand in the middle, looking around and wondering where you’d sleep.
“Take the bed, little one. I’ll sleep on the chair,” he says, motioning towards the bed.
“No, I can’t do that. It’s your bed, not mine,” you respond.
“Nonsense, you are my guest, you get the bed,” he counters.
“You’re not sleeping on a chair,” you say.
“Then…I’ll sleep on the other side of the bed…if you’re comfortable with that.” Boba is offering to share his bed with you. Your heart races at the thought, and before you know it, you’re agreeing to his words.
“Yes, I’m comfortable with that.”
“Perfect. Now don’t be scared to hold me if you need to,” he jokes, but you bite your lip at the thought. Cuddling with Boba? That sounds perfect to you. You crawl under the covers, immediately settling into a warm spot, the spot you assume he’d been in before you knocked. You take a deep breath, and Boba’s scent fills your lungs. A small, content smile creeps onto your lips as you settle down, but then a yell from the Wookiee shakes your peace.
Opening your eyes, you look at Boba, who was already seemingly asleep again. Deciding that he had been serious, you take up his offer and move closer, wrapping an arm around him and resting your head on his chest. You feel his arm wrap around you in response, and you allow yourself to fully relax into his hold. With his comfort, the sounds of the Wookiee soon fade away as sleep takes over.
The next morning when you wake up, you find yourself alone in Boba’s bed. You stretch briefly before noticing a note, and you rub your eyes before reading it.
I apologize for not being able to be with you when you wake up, mesh’la. I hope you rested well and I am looking forward to seeing you later.
You smile as you finish reading, climbing out of his bed and heading over to your own room. You dress in your day clothes before heading out, realizing that you slept in longer than you thought. It’s already past midday, but that doesn’t really matter since you don’t have anything you plan on doing.
You wander into the throne room, and voices coming from the pit catch your attention. You peer down and see Boba standing with someone, as well as a massive beast laying on the ground. You watch curiously, and it seems as though Boba is scratching it, like a pet. You quietly laugh to yourself as you watch, Boba’s face bright with joy. It reminds you of how he looks at you, wonder and happiness.
“You two need to stop just watching each other and talk more,” Fennec says as she walks past you. You jerk your head to look at her, mouth falling open but no words coming out. She looks at you with a smirk and shakes her head.
“What are you waiting for? You clearly both are interested, so what’s stopping you?”
“I…” you start, but you can’t think of why. Perhaps it’s because he’s technically your boss, and that you feel like it might be unprofessional. Maybe it’s because you’ve never been loved before, and never loved anyone else before, so you’re scared you’ll do it wrong.
“You…?” she prompts, and you let out a sigh.
“I don’t know. I mean, I guess I’m scared. I don’t really feel…worthy of his love.”
“He’s just another person, y/n. Yeah, he’s Daimyo and a crimelord, ex bounty hunter, all that special stuff, but at the end of the day, he’s just another person. You deserve anyone's love that will treat you well, and admire you for who you are. Boba would do that.”
“I know he would,” you reply, giving a small smile.
“Excuse me, but Master Boba Fett has instructed me to tell you to suit up. You are heading into town,” the 8D8 droid says as it comes up to you and Fennec. She nods, turning to you again.
“Maybe you can talk to him later, but right now, me and him have some business in Mos Espa. Take care of the palace while we’re gone,” she says, and you nod as she walks away. On his way out, Boba spots you and stops for a second, giving you his usual kind smile.
“Be safe out there,” you say, and he chuckles.
“Anything you wish, my dear,” he says, giving you a playful wink before setting his helmet on his head and leaving. You tell yourself to calm down, the wide grin on your face slightly embarrassing after his brief flirtation. Maybe Fennec was right, that you do deserve someone like him.
As you wait for their return, you end up doing small chores around the palace. Wandering into rooms you swear haven’t been seen in decades, you clean up and rearrange things to look nicer. You hope that Boba and Fennec won’t mind, but you also don’t think they even know about half this stuff.
After growing bored of cleaning, you decide to begin the next of your books. Instead of sitting in your room, you decide to be somewhere else. You wander around, thinking of where to read, and find yourself in the throne room. Your eyes linger on the throne, a sudden curiosity running through your mind. What would it be like to sit on the throne? Surely, it’s not much different from a regular seat, but the idea of it being special peaks your interest.
Though you are alone, you look around briefly before stepping over to it. You pause, more worries of what might happen, but you push them away. All you were doing was sitting on a regular seat, nothing special, nothing you weren’t allowed to do.
When you do sit on it, you’re immediately unimpressed. The stone is cold and hard, and not comfortable at all. You wonder why a powerful person would give themselves such an uncomfortable seat, but you just shrug to yourself before moving around.
It’s big enough that you can curl your body up on it, but it’s still not comfortable. Furrowing your brows, you think of what you could do to make it better. An idea pops in your mind and you jump up, tossing the book on the empty seat before running to your room. You run back out with an armful of blankets, and pile them onto the throne. You then crawl on, wrapping yourself up under one.
“Much better,” you mumble to yourself, grabbing the book and adjusting your position one last time before you start to read. It doesn’t take long after you start reading to grow tired. Soon enough, your vision goes slightly blurry before your head lolls to the side, eyes closing as a deep breath leaves you, and slumber takes over.
It’s while you’re sleeping like this, wrapped up on Boba’s throne, that they return to the palace. When Boba walks in, he doesn’t perceive you at first, but as he’s walking he takes a confused second glance at you before suppressing a loud chuckle.
“What’s so funny? We just found out the mayor is working with the Pykes and you’re laughing?” Fennec says, not bothering to hide her annoyance.
“Shh, they’re sleeping,” he says, nodding towards you. Fennec looks at the throne then, then back at Boba.
“We’re not finished talking about this,” she says before heading off to her room. Boba just ignores her and quietly makes his way over to you. He gently reaches down and brushes his thumb across your cheek, and you stir in your sleep, slowly opening your eyes to look up at him.
“Enjoy your nap, little one?” he asks, and you give a tired nod. “Well, I hope you’re not too tired for some fun.”
“Fun?” you ask, moving to sit up more.
“Yes. The rancor trainer has agreed to teach me how to ride it, and I was thinking of having him teach you as well.”
“You’re going to…ride, the rancor?” you ask, raising a brow at him as if he’s crazy.
“Well of course. I’ve ridden far bigger beasts before.”
“Wait, what have you ridden?” you question, and he just chuckles.
“I’ll tell those stories later. For now, why don’t we go get ready to learn?” You just nod, uncurling yourself from the throne and carrying your blankets back to your room.
When you meet him back in the training room, he smiles and motions for you to head down into the pit. As you begin heading down, Fennec walks in and stops Boba.
“There’s a holocall from one of the new workers. He’s got information for us.”
“I’ll be right back, mesh’la. Go ahead down there,” Boba says, and you nod. When you go down, you patiently wait with the rancor trainer for Boba to join you.
“I’ve never been this close to a beast before,” you say as you stand across the room from the rancor. The trainer laughs, stepping up to it and petting it like Boba had.
“Don’t be afraid, it won’t hurt you unless it feels threatened. Come over, I’ll show you.”
“No thanks, I’m okay over here for now,” you say, taking a slight step back.
“Now, I mean no disrespect with this,” the trainer starts, “but are you Boba’s…er-how do I put this…”
“No, I’m not Boba’s anything,” you say, “except for a hired worker. I mainly just help around the palace, but he doesn’t really care about what I do.”
“Ah, I see. I’ve heard tales of Boba, but I never expected him to be so kind. So human.”
“That’s how I felt when I first met him, but then I realized, he's really just another person, like the rest of us. Sure, he’s got the reputation and titles, but in the end, he’s just like everyone else. I admire that, a lot more than he knows.”
“Sounds like you’ve got the hots for him,” the trainer jokes. You bite your lip, looking down at the ground.
“I might…” you say, and your words are followed by the sound of someone clearing their throat. You spin around to see Boba standing there, his cheeks slightly heated as he has a shy grin.
“I Uh, I came to tell you that plans are changing. Me and Fennec have more things to discuss. If you come with me, I can fill you in quickly.”
“Uh, sure,” you say, and he leads you back up.
“The mayor is working with the Pykes, and they’ve sent people here. We’re assuming that they’re preparing for war, and so we must also prepare.”
“The Pykes? Aren’t they very dangerous? Is this place even worth the risk of fighting them?” you ask. Boba looks at you briefly before shrugging.
“I’m not quite sure, but I’m not going to just hand this place over without some kind of resistance.”
“Just…be smart about it, please. I don’t want you or Fennec to get hurt for something if you don’t think it’s really worth it.”
“Don’t worry, little one. We will be smart, and we will be safe,” he says, before a slightly nervous look fills his eyes again. “You, um. When you were talking with him…he said that you-er, sounded like you had the hots for me. And you said you might. Were you…serious?” Your mouth drops open slightly, this time your cheeks heating at his question.
“I um…” you start, biting your tongue as you try to quickly decide whether to be honest or deflect. Boba seems to notice your hesitation, and a brief moment of hurt flashes in his eyes before he covers it.
“I’m sorry if that was a bit forward, or if it put you in an awkward place. Really, it’s no big deal if you don’t, I was just-“ You cut Boba off with a hand on his mouth, and he looks at you with slightly wide eyes as you give him a shy smile. Slowly, you lower your hand and open your mouth again to speak, but close it and instead choose to give him your answer in a different way. Quickly, only for a brief second, you press your lips to his in a hurried kiss. You feel his shock at the action, and you pull away before either of you can deepen it.
“Is…that a good answer?” you ask, eyes flitting to the ground for a second before looking up as Boba doesn’t respond. His face is covered in shock again, his cheeks burning as well. He looks at you, closing his mouth as it was slightly open, and reaches to rub the back of his neck, a small smile coming to his lips.
“Uh, yeah. I think-I think that was good. Um, thank you.”
“For the kiss…or the having the hots for you?”
“Uh, both,” he answers, and you give a small laugh.
“You’re welcome,” you say. Boba looks like he’s about to say something else when Fennec interrupts again.
“Enough flirting, it’s time to get to work,” she says. You step back, giving Boba a small smile as he keeps his eyes trained on you. He looks as though he’s trying to silently plead for you to stay, to help save him from Fennec.
“I guess I’ll let you get to work,” you say, and Boba lets out a small sigh. “I’ll see you later.”
“I look forward to then, mesh’la,” Boba responds. When you’ve left the room, Fennec lets out a snort.
“‘Thank you,’ really? Thanking them for a kiss? And for liking you?”
“I was caught off guard,” Boba defends.
“And you say you’re smooth,” Fennec retorts, giving an eye roll.
“I also said I was a bit out of practice.”
“Well, somehow you’ve still managed to win them over, so I guess you might not be as bad as I think.”
“I’m glad you’ve admitted it,” Boba says.
“Or maybe they’re not that hard to impress,” Fennec teases, earning a huff from Boba.
“Maybe you’re just a bully,” Boba mumbles, earning a jab in the arm from Fennec. Their bickering ends there, as they begin to set out plans for the coming war.
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"Padawan, your attention, please!" Master Krell said sharply, causing his apprentice to hurriedly return her eyes to her master.
He continued to go on about the importance of this mission to the selected men from their battalion, the 340th, once she refocused him, and then turned to her to grate about how she needed to be "a model soldier for these lab-bred clones". She had heard it all before, but (Y/N) knew what would happen if she was caught tuning him out again, and suppressed a shudder.
The transport continued on its way to the planet's, Umbara's, surface, and settled into silence once Krell ended his speech.
-----
Master Krell had never been of the fatherly sort, or the instructive sort, like so many other Jedi teachers. He was not endearing like Master Kenobi, or protective like Master Windu, or philosophical like Master Yoda. He was distant and easily angered. He didn't act like he was raising a future Jedi, but rather tied down by an incompetent child. Master Krell never wanted a Padawan learner, but the will of the Council made it so.
In (Y/N)'s eyes, Krell was hurtful because she was never enough. She knew Krell didn't want her, but what else was she supposed to do? How else was she supposed to rise from Padawan to Jedi without Krell's help? With a heavy heart, she had resigned herself to her fate years ago; stuck in a rocky relationship with the only Jedi Master whom the Council saw fit to have her. In these trying times, it was understandable.
When the transport finally touched down on Umbara's surface, (Y/N) knew to stay one step behind Master Krell. "As a sign of respect, for me, and to show your place," he had said. As the approached Master Skywalker, she quickly scanned the scattered group of men before her. Through the Force, she could feel that each trooper was different than her own battalion, the 340th. They seemed...brighter, albeit tired since they had just faced the Umbarans. Each clone had unique armor paint, whereas the 340th remained with solid white plastiod.
"Master Krell, Padawan (Y/L/N), thanks for the air support," Master Skywalker said. Krell's apprentice gave a tight smile, and thanked the Maker that the 340th had talented bombers. While the Jedi Masters talked and command over the 501st passed to Krell, (Y/N) listened and continued to scan the surroundings. Dark, shadowy, cold yet humid. This place.... I do not have a good feeling about this.
The man on Master Skywalker's left, Captain Rex, found it rather odd that General Krell's Padawan had remained silent during the whole ordeal, and even odder that General Krell had not even addressed her. After introducing Rex to the new Master-Padawan team, Rex assured Skywalker that they would have the capitol city under Republic control before his return.
General Skywalker was soon flown away the same transport ship that had brought Commander (Y/L/N) and General Krell, and Rex quickly went to greet his interim leaders.
"General Krell, Commander (Y/L/N), it's an honor to serve with you-"
"Don't address her, Captain, I am the one in charge here. However, I find it very interesting that you are able to recognize the value of honor, for a clone," Krell stated as he stepped around to better see the whole legion. (Y/N) stifled a sigh- this was going to be a long mission.
----
Everyone had been marching for hours. (Y/N) could feel everyone's exhaustion through the Force, except for Master Krell's. He was always tightly shielded, and expected her to be the same. Since he never bothered to properly teach her about it as a youngling, (Y/N) knew her mental shields were spotty at best.
The clone captain from earlier, "Rex", approached (Y/N) and her master. "That ridge over there would be a good place to break camp," he said, pointing to an easily-defended area ahead of them.
"CT-7567, we don't have time to rest. The 212th are counting on us to meet at the capitol city, so we will continue to march until we get there," Krell retorted sternly, towering over Rex. After a tense moment, Krell continued forward, (Y/N) giving Rex a sympathetic face.
She noticed Captain Rex pause when Krell said his number, as he did the first time they spoke. Were names a normal thing for clone troopers? The clones within her and Krell's battalion were known, to her, at least, by their numbers.
"I'm sorry," (Y/n) said softly to Rex, eyes not meeting his, before turning her back towards him and making her way to continue behind her master. Rex removed his helmet and hurried up to walk with her.
"Commander, is there anything you can do to convince the General to let the men rest? There's no way we can fight well when we have been marching this long without a break." Desperation leaked into his tone as they stepped over dark roots and under eerie branches.
Commander (Y/L/N) looked quickly over to Krell and then back to Rex. Quickly and quietly, she responded, "I'm sorry, but there really is nothing I can do. He- I'm not allowed to speak without being spoken to, and he doesn't listen to what I have to say when I can speak. Just try to switch out the men on the walkers without him noticing, okay?"
"(Y/L/N)!" called Krell. Before Rex could say anything else, the Commander sprinted back to her master's side. Slightly stunned, Rex returned his helmet to over his head, and waited for some of the troopers to approach him as the march continued. He told the first few men to switch out with those on the walkers without stopping the progress of the walkers, and to switch out every so often so other brothers could get a small reprieve. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.
"Padawan, you are above fraternizing with these clones. I don't want to see you talking to them again," Krell said once (Y/N) approached.
"Yes, Master," she replied dejectedly. They continued the forward march for a quiet while. Hopefully, Master Krell would be none the wiser about the makeshift rest that she had thought of for the men. It was a common practice amongst their own ranks, and if Krell knew about it, he never said anything since they always kept moving.
----
SCREECH
Looking up, Padawan (Y/L/N) and the clone troopers saw two flying creatures headed toward them. (Y/N) was fascinated by these flying, glowing beings, until one of them scooped up a trooper, causing a quick downward spiral of events. Blasters fired, and she quickly assumed meditation on the Umbaran soil. Reaching out to the flying animals through the Force, and opening herself up to the Force, she gently persuaded them to come to her and leave the men alone.
The blaster shots slowly diminished into silence as the men watched in awe while the flying creatures dropped their brother, and flew around Commander (Y/L/N) before resting alongside her. She reached out to touch the creatures, who relaxed into her touch. Relief from the men, and tranquility from (Y/N) herself flowed into the Force. No casualties; no harm.
(Y/N)'s eyes shot open when she heard the ignition of two lightsabers. She turned around, and saw her master bound forward and drive his blades into one creature after the other. Each dying screech of the flying beings made her flinch. The men took a few steps backward.
"Does anybody else want to play with the animals?" Krell announced, full of malice and disdain. He ended with a glare towards his Padawan, but it was directed towards everyone.
With a kick to one of the dead beasts in his way, Krell began marching back toward the capitol, leaving everyone else to follow.
-----
During the first run-in with the Umbarans, where the 501st clones were to go along the main road into the capital city, (Y/N) had no choice but to remain at Master Krell's side far behind the line of fire. She could feel each life leaving a soldier's body; a feeling that she was not yet desensitized to. It almost hurt to have to stand by and watch. If only Master Krell had taken to the original plan.
Then the men were retreating, and Krell angrily waved the rest of the available troopers to help those already on the field. (Y/N) sent him a desperate look, can I go and help, too?
An exasperated sigh, "Fine, (Y/L/N). Go help those insolent clones, but stay on the path to the capitol- no retreating." He returned his gaze to the fighting, and crossed his arms.
And she was off. Using the Force to aid her in speed and strength, she made it to the front line and began to deflect enemy bolts. Hurting and dying souls kept ricocheting in her mind, and so she took a pause. Who was near, and who could she help?
"Hold your positions!" These were not the words anyone wanted to hear, but hopefully with the reinforcements, the men could hold out for a little longer.
You. (Y/N) raced to the injured trooper's side.
"What is your name?" Blaster wound to the shoulder- nonlethal, but painful. Someone must have dragged him away from the line of fire, into the trees. (Y/N) turned off her lightsaber, and removed the glove from the trooper's hand and held onto it, sending healing-safety-okayness into the Force and into him.
"T-Tup. What-what are y-you doing, sir?"
"Everything is going to be okay, Tup," she replied confidently. Commander (Y/L/N) continued to concentrate with her eyes closed. A sharp, burning feeling seeped in the same shoulder where Tup was injured. As her pain increased, his decreased. She managed to keep a straight face while she attempted her Force-healing.
"That's the best I can do for now. Think you'll be okay?" The Force-heal had taken much out of her, but she still had work to do. Tup noticed how her breathing was more labored than it was before, but didn't want to waste more time when he could be helping his brothers.
"I think I'll live Commander. Thank you," Tup answered. (Y/N) offered a hand to help him up, and they both raced back into the fray.
A few more rudimentarily Force-healed men later, and as many men as possible defended, the Umbarans retreated.
Everyone was bone-tired, but not too many were dead or injured. (Y/N) felt good about that; she could handle exhaustion, and deep burns and cuts. Krell would probably never let up on them, so (Y/N) was determined to help the men how she could.
"CT-7567, why did you order a retreat when I specifically ordered a forward march to the capitol?"
"Rex just saved the lives of this whole platoon by ordering a retreat. Surely you don't fail to recognize that?" A different, agitated voice said.
"ARC-5555, stand down," Master Krell calmly threatened. (Y/N)'s eyes widened, and looked towards her master as he ignited his lightsaber. She quickly moved closer, aches and pains forgotten. No more, Master. Please, no more.
"Sir yes sir." ARC-5555 moved away with calm belligerence, and Krell sheathed his saber. Thank the Maker. With that crisis averted, (Y/N) went to look for a medic while Krell was occupied, thinking a stim shot and a painkiller would temporarily help her.
She patted a random trooper's armored shoulder. Quietly, she asked him where a medic would be.
"That'll be Kix. I can call him for you, Commander" he said.
"Not too loudly!" She looked around herself to make sure her Master wasn't watching. "Thank you. And, what was your num-name?" (Y/N) would have to get used to asking that.
"They call me Hardcase, sir." He said with the air of a smirk. "I'll just call him over our internal comms." Minutes later, a trooper with a red cross on his shoulder came walking by.
"Hardcase, what did you do this time? I'm almost out of bacta, and I keep telling you that the more you use that heavy gun of yours, the more you are going to bruise. I swear-"
"Kix, I'm fine. Commander (Y/L/N) was looking for you, I was simply being nice and-"
"Commander (Y/L/N), sir! What can I do for you?" Kix's quick transition from informal to formal told (Y/N) that he had seen too much of her Master. She sighed, and they left Hardcase to politely wander away.
"Medic Kix, could you spare any stim shots or maybe painkillers?" Kix rifled around in his pack, almost hesitantly, or possibly relief. Why?
"I have a few stims, but painkillers are starting to run low. I can probably restock or borrow from another medic when we break camp. Why, what's going on?" He paused his rifling to look at his commander.
"Just a few light injuries and I'm starting to feel tired. What did you mean by break camp?"
"All due respect Commander (Y/L/N), we're all tired," he said honestly, "and usually after a battle, or when we've been moving for so long, we set up a place to rest and plan ahead. Have you not been on many campaigns, Commander?" Another young one, lost to the cause, he thought sadly.
"Oh. I just feel the beginnings of Force exhaustion. I'm sure I can wait it out though... but...quite the opposite. Master Krell and I have been through our fair share of battles. But they don't usually last long enough for us to rest. A few days usually go by before he suggests setting up camp. Could I at least hang onto a stim? I know I'll need it later."
Kix's shock was hidden behind his helmet, but was palpable in the Force. He gave her a stim shot, and watched her put it somewhere in her robes.
"Thank you," she said with a relieved grin, "do you know how many casualties we have?"
"Approxi-"
Green blaster fire filled the air. Fresh corpses fell onto the dark soil as the clones fired back. Both Kix and (Y/N) looked at each other.
"Come find me after this, yeah? I'll get you fixed up," Kix called out while racing to aid his brothers. (Y/N) nodded, and went on her own path to continue what she started earlier. Deflecting bolts, protecting troopers, and trying to save as many lives as she could.
----
a/n: constructive, respectful criticism is welcome! I know it's a little rocky, but at least I'm trying to write again
warnings: slightly suggestive content but other than that literally nothing, mentions of blood and injuries
word count: 1.1k
a/n: this came to me in a vision, anyway… i’m sharing it with you… i need this loser so bad, those new ddba s3 pics of him have sent my mind into a frenzy. freak4freak
you were lounging on the bed, your skin still faintly damp from the shower. tiny beads of water clung to the nape of your neck where the spray had brushed against you.
your skin faintly smelled of that new shampoo and body lotion you had tried — the memory of dex wrapping his arms around you and inhaling your scent still freshly engraved in your mind.
“dex,” you had giggled as he all but squeezed you to himself, holding you so tight it felt like he was trying to blend your body into his own.
you raised your hands to his shoulders. he was still clad in his bullseye suit — the dark blue material feeling strangely artificial under your palms.
he smelled of sweat and dust, and you swore you’d noticed a speck of blood somewhere on him when he first came inside, though it was gone now. ever since the two of you had started dating seriously, you’d noticed he always cleaned himself up after coming back from… work. if you could even call what he did work.
he no longer came home covered in grime and someone else’s coppery, crimson blood. he knew you always worried it was his, even if most of the time it wasn’t.
but still, the heavy suit trapped his body heat, and the sweat that came with the adrenaline couldn't be helped.
“what is it?” he grumbled, noticing the way you knit your brows and tried to pull away from his grip. not that the iron embrace he had on your hips would have let you move anyway.
“you smell,” you pointed out, suppressing a laugh at his instantly irritated expression.
all he wanted to do was hold you and kiss you stupid after another successful mission, and here you were — complaining about something he couldn’t control.
“what do you want me to do?” he muttered, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck like a clingy animal. “'s not my fault.”
“benjamin,” you warned, cradling his head as he all but whined. here he was— a grown man, an infamous vigilante who had people shaking in their boots at the mere mention of his name—whining in your arms like a child. “i love you. but please, for the love of god, go shower.”
he sighed, knowing those three words were the exact key he could never resist. he melted every single time you said it, whether it was the first or the hundredth time.
and you were right… he did kind of stink.
so that was how you ended up laying on your bed in nothing but a t-shirt, waiting for him to finish. all the dirt and soot and gore of his day washing down the drain with the hot water.
the door creaked on its hinges as he stepped out, a slight mist rolling out behind him. his blonde hair was damp and ruffled where the water had undone his styling, and he had nothing but a towel loosely wrapped around his hips.
you subconsciously bit your lip at the sight, your breathing stuttering at his appearance. you felt your pupils dilating as your thighs involuntarily squeezed together.
he didn't seem to notice your staring at first, intent on grabbing a shirt and a clean pair of boxers from the dresser.
you admired the hard strain of his back muscles, the perfectly sculpted slope of his shoulders and abs as he turned around, grumbling softly as he sifted through his clothes.
you scooted closer to the edge of the mattress, getting closer to where he stood. up close, he looked even more dangerous, even more gorgeous.
“you’re staring,” he pointed out, and you could hear the smug smirk in his voice.
“is it a crime for a woman to admire her boyfriend’s stunning physique?”
“stunning?” he turned around sharply, a little breathless from the massive grin spreading across his face.
he was still only sporting that towel loosely draped over his hips… if it slipped just a fraction…
“yeah,” you breathed, standing up. your fingers traced over the ridges of his abs, feeling the intense heat radiating from his skin. he tensed instantly under your touch. “stunning.”
you didn’t notice the way dex looked at you with a sudden, dark hunger — you were too caught up in admiring him.
it was one thing for him to worship you all the time, constantly repeating how much he loved you, how obsessed he was.
but it was a completely different beast when you were the one doing it, showing your raw devotion to him openly.
it did something lethal to his brain, cracking open his fragile skull and making his spine tingle right where the scar from his injury lay.
your lips parted as a quiet giggle involuntarily escaped you.
“what is it?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave as he suppressed the urge to shove you onto the mattress and kiss you senseless.
“you’re just so…” your brain searched for the right word. “large. like… in a really good way. it’s hot.”
his mind completely short-circuited at that, your words echoing through his skull like a broken, beautiful record player.
“i like how,” your hands dragged up to his shoulders, “how wide your shoulders are. your chest is so broad… your arms, your abs. your belly.” you spoke of him like he was the most precious thing on earth. like his body was a shrine you were destined to worship. him. “your thighs.”
him, who others feared or viewed as nothing but a monster. a murderer. a tool simply utilizable before discarding. but you… you looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky.
“you’ve been eating more,” you noted matter-of-factly. but before his deep rooted insecurity could surface, you cut it off. “i like that. i like you. i like how you’re…”
you grabbed his hands, pulling his massive frame closer to yours. he made a low, wrecked noise in the back of his throat, every ounce of his self-restraint faltering by the second.
“i like how you have enough muscle for the both of us,” you finally whispered, looking up into his eyes.
and all you found there was purely unfiltered love, adoration, and burning lust.
it made your heart skip a beat. your dex, looking down at you like you were the center of his universe. because to him, you absolutely were.
“you can’t just say shit like that to me…” he whispered, his large hand coming up to cup your cheek. “and expect me to act normal.”
“i never said i wanted you to be,” you shot back, and dex was immediately reminded exactly why you were his.
“show me dex…” you whispered, slipping your fingers between your bodies and carefully undoing the knot holding together the towel. “show me everything you want to do to me.”
you could feel the groan vibrating through his chest as all self-restraint perished and he pushed you towards the bed.
I’ve been writing Yautja stuff on and off for a while but I’ve never had the guts to post it before. I hope people enjoy it as much as I do🤞🏻🖤
The names are just made up and I hope they sound Yautja enough
This is a short fic however I’m working on another one that will include Yautja x Human Smut
You had been living here for almost 2 years now and you’re finally at the point of being accepted by the clans. The Elder that you lived with, Zoka’ran, had unintentionally saved you from the men that he murdered and in return you shot the man that was about to slice his head off with a machete. Zoka’ran took you with him back home and gave you a place to sleep and eat and in return you helped with his household-mostly taking care of their “pups” or “sucklings” (who all adored you-all the pups on Yautja Prime did-loving to play with your hair and snuggle into your warm blooded body).
It took a while but you were comfortable with your life and you actually loved it, having made friends here and learned healing with the clans own healers which often came in handy.
It was pretty obvious to say that regardless of how long you’d been here you never once expected to become a true member of the tribe. Yes, there were Yautja who loved humans and had mated them, (more than you expected when you came here) but all of those women were human warriors and you…weren’t…at all.
As always you attended the ceremony welcoming the newly blooded members into the clan. You were relived to see some of the young newly blooded members that you’d gotten to know before they went hunting were alright and didn’t die on their first solo hunt, many of them even coming and showing off their first trophy to you. Praise wasn’t a concept that Yautja subscribed to which you’d noticed as soon as you arrived on this planet, often trying to give the younger Yautja a little bit of praise which you believed made people work harder. You didn’t know what any of the alien skulls were that they were showing you but you made sure to look impressed anyway as you could tell how proud these teenagers (kids really) were of their first hunt.
The celebration was mostly for the newly blooded however they also celebrated the members of the clan that had killed the most impressive prey so there were many Yautja being honored and you as a part of an Elders family (even if you were what most Yautja saw as a “Pet”) welcomed them all.
As expected you had seen quite a few Yautja that were now home honoring a female with a token and making their intentions to mate them known. You didn’t actually expect to receive a skull from anyone but as you put the youngest pups down in their hut for the evening you walked back to the party to see most of the Yautja’s eyes on one member of the clan-Va’kasha.
Va’kasha was blooded years ago and was well on his way (probably very close) to becoming an Elder at this point and it was surprising that he was still unmated but as you saw him in the center of the celebration with a good sized skull from an alien with huge horns in his hands, you realized that he had chosen and you were happy for him-he had always been kind to you…well…as kind as Yautja get.
To say you were shocked when he walked up to you would be an understatement, you actually moved a bit to your left assuming he’d been looking at someone behind you but his stare remained upon you before he knelt to the ground and held the skull above his head for you. You glanced back at your Yautja ‘family’ and you could see the smiles on their faces (having learned to decipher Yautja expressions after 2 years here).
‘You…you’re giving it to me?’ You asked softly and you received a series of clicks and growls in response, the earpiece you had been gifted translating in real time in your ear.
‘I honor my intended with a worthy kill. I will wear the scars of this battle forever with pride as I hope you will keep this trophy with pride in your mate for all our years to come.’ It was a lovely speech, way better than half the others you’d heard before, he’d actually put some effort into speaking to you.
‘I’m no warrior…’
‘No. You are not. I do not seek a warrior, I enjoy the comfort you bring after a long hunt, enjoy your soft heart when caring for sucklings, I wish to come home after every hunt to my mate waiting for me with our own sucklings. I will bring you a kill each time that I return that you may be proud of.’
She hesitated only a second before reaching out and taking the skull from him, accepting his mating gift. It was only a second before he stood up and swept her up into his arms making her squeal and all the Yautja at the celebration to cheer as he carried her off down the road and to his hut. It was a bit away from the rest and a decent size-she could tell he put effort into it for her, knowing that humans need certain things like comfort and warmth. The bed was comfortable layers of animal pelts and there were blankets from her own planet around the space to keep her warm as well as a small kitchen area for her to bake the sweet treats that every Yautja loves.
‘This is lovely, and cozy…Thank you. Do you mind if I make it more homey?’ She wondered.
‘It is your home my mate. You do what brings you happiness.’ He told her and she was instantly picturing how to make it more comfortable and less formal. ‘You are tired. Humans must sleep, come.’ He insisted, lifting her once again and carrying her to the bed.
‘I don’t need to sleep yet.’
‘You yawn. My mate will be taken care of, I did not ask you to mate with me without knowing what humans need.’ He insisted, laying her down and pulling a think animal pelt over her to keep her warm.
‘Lay with me.’ She told him, holding onto his hand as he went to leave. ‘Humans cuddle, it’s a normal thing. Come here.’ She told him and he did, crawling into the bed and allowing her to cover him with the pelt.
‘Human customs are strange.’ Va’kasha admitted before wrapping his muscular arms around her body and pulling her close, laying another blanket over his new mate to keep her sensitive body nice and warm as she laid her head on his chest. ‘It is nice though…’ he took a deep breath, laying his head on the pillows and pulling his new mate closer.
Humans may be overly emotional and wrong about a lot of things…but he could get used to cuddling.
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