Sweetprincess

d’awww sweet princess, they’re being so sweet with each other even if Boba is pissing Leia off.

Posted on av swmoddy

Smiling softly as he continued affectionately rubbing Din’s feet, doing his best to ignore the bruise mottled skin covering the other’s body as too  much staring made Din self conscious and uncomfortable, Boba instead focused on the look of contentment on Din’s beautiful face.

Laying propped on the practically obscene amount of pillows on their bed in all the colors of the rainbow in simply his shorts, Din was the picture of comfort in the slight sunlight peeking in through the curtains, his lashes resting gently against his cheeks as he breathed steadily.

If it wasn’t for the minute shifting now and again, Boba would think the other asleep as he drew soft, steady breaths in his nose and out his slightly open mouth.

As it was, Din was simply so comfortable and content that he was relaxing, the buzz of his head silent.

It thrilled the deep parts of Boba that wanted the other coddled and soothed the parts of him that wanted Din’s trust, to see the other with his eyes closed against their bed.

Occasionally when he shifted, the sun would glint of his collar and Boba’s attention would be drawn to it, his own mind buzzing with comfort as he was reminded that now Din’s collar could only be unlocked with a biolock and would shock anyone that was not him or Din trying to remove it or even touching Din.

Worst case scenario, it also had a tracker built into it.

Din had initially thrown a small fit about Boba wanting his collar for a few days, both his hands holding onto it around his neck with wide, almost betrayal filled eyes, sitting upright against the headboard of their bed.

The look had hurt Boba deep into his soul and he had quickly soothed the other while explaining himself to Din.

He wasn’t taking the collar away for good, just for a few days, just to equip it with safety and protective features for the future. With the explanation, Din had relaxed, though Boba had noted that Din was antsy over the next few days, causing Boba to work faster on the collar and delay several meetings.

He had pissed of several of his liaisons off world, people he knew would be even more difficult to work with after being ignored as Boba had done to focus on the collar.

But it was worth it in his eyes when he clicked the collar back around Din’s neck and saw how the others shoulders relaxed, curious tanned fingers brushing at the beskar that once more lined his throat.

No one was going to harm Din again as Princess or abduct him, because the moment someone tried to touch the collar, an alert would go to Boba’s gauntlet.

He would be informed, the tracker would go live and Din would be found as fast as Boba could move.

Every precaution was now taken, additional guards where Din ventured as Princess, holo cams with no blind spots with as many as had been set up with a direct feed to Boba’s office and Din’s collar equipped.

No, no one would harm Din again without severe consequences and if he had to put a blaster in Din’s hand as Princess while out in public, he would.

Everyone knew that Din was capable of murder even without a blaster, so Boba had no qualms about putting a blaster in his hands and telling him to shoot the first one that touched him without permission

He would never again have this situation happen, to feel so helpless in the face of danger to a loved one.

Especially one as precious to him as Din was.

And even more important, Din was never to put in a situation of hurt and pain again, not on Boba’s planet and especially not in his palace.

Their palace.

Curving his hand around the heel of Din’s left food, he raised carefully, watching Din’s face for a sign of discomfort only to find the other cracking one eye open to a silver to watch. It made him smile as he raised Din’s foot fully as he bent his head, pressing a soft kiss to the arch of the foot.

Din’s cheeks flushed a bit, a shy smile crossing his lips at the action.

Unable to resist, Boba pressed a few more kisses over the arch and up to the ankle, rubbing gently at the heel, keeping his gaze locked with Din’s now open eyes. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum Din.” He whispered quietly against the sun tanned skin, Din having turned darker under the suns of Tatooine as Princess.

Din’s cheeks darkened to a ruddy red, his smile growing into that sweet smile Boba had come to adore so much from his little one, his Princess. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum balyc Boba.”  He murmured.

Placing the other’s foot back down on the bed, Boba crawled forward, his right hand reaching in to carefully run his fingertips against warm skin until he was leveled with Din’s face, settling his forearms on the pillows to cage the others head in.

He only settled his body down in the lightest of pressure, too aware of how badly of the other was still sore and hurting even if he was recovering. Boba’s own scars often reminding him to be gentle as they ached with phantom pain or sensitivity. But enough pressure that Din knew he was there as Boba carefully pressed their foreheads together.

Din pressed gently back, returning the mirshmure’cya as they shared the air from each others lungs, Din’s right hand coming up to slowly stroke over the back of Boba’s head and neck. His left remained settled on his own chest.

Boba suspected it was a subconscious decision, a protective move by the mando.

But in that moment, he was more preoccupied peering into Din’s dark eyes, relief in his soul as Din’s fever was as good as gone while he enjoyed the intimacy of their Keldable kiss.

“Ner Cabur. Cabur be ner kar’ta.” Din whispered quietly, the coveted title singing along Boba’s veins with Din’s breath washing over his face.

Not like the title of buir’ika.

That was for play.

But to be Din’s protector, to guard him not only physically but to guard his heart and soul after all Din had gone through…

Catching Din’s left hand, bringing it to his lips, Boba breathed out shakily. “Mesh’la… you honor me.” He didn’t have any other words for what Din was giving him, his chest feeling too tight.

Din just continued smiling slightly, his hand still slowly stroking over the back of Boba’s head as he entrusted all he was and all he could be into the other’s hands.

But then again, wasn’t Boba doing the same?

The thought settled into Boba’s chest and he felt himself settle at the thought, smiling slightly as he stole a sweet kiss from Din’s lips, still holding Din’s damaged hand to his chest.

He was fine with that, trusting himself to Din.

Trusting himself to the one he loved more than his own life.

Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum = I love you

Balyc = Also

Mirshmure’cya = Keldable kiss (nickname for a headbutt)

Ner Cabur = My protector

Cabur be ner kar’ta  = Protector of my heart

For sweet princess, does Din speak to the clones or Leia? Does she figure out he’s not in the same situation she was once in?

Posted on av swmoddy

He doesn’t like it.

No scratch that, he hates this, but he leads Organa and the two clones into the kings suite behind the throne.

Fennec, that damn loiterer, simply smirks knowingly at him while the courtiers whisper to each others. Most however has caught on that Boba can and will do almost anything for Din. That includes letting enemies into his own private, safe space to keep an eye on Din and his comfort.

He won’t have Din out in the throne room again, sleeping on his lap in his feverish state but sleeping on the couch would be alright, tucked up under the soft but warm night blankets they had.

Which is why he leads them into the living room where he normally only entertains those he trusts like Fennec, Din and these last few days, Cobb Vanth.

There is also the occasional visitors from his past that he makes a point of catching up with, checking if they are trying to use him for his new connection or if they are really there as his former friends.

Din is of course waiting when they enter, sitting on one of the bantha leather couch with the blanket around his shoulders, Boba’s robe peeking out from under the fuzzy, black blanket.

He perks up when Boba enters and Boba makes a beeline for the other, making his way between the couch and the caff table containing his water canteen, sitting down and carefully encouraging Din to lay his head on his lap. “You were suppose to already be asleep.” He scolded gently, pressing his hand to Din’s forehead.

Still hot but not as bad as yesterday.

Russal had come by with some fever dampening medication and Boba had encouraged quite a bit of cold water into the other man, both things seemed to have worked a little.

Din hummed, pressing into the hand before rolling around so he could press his face to Boba’s stomach. “Was waiting on you buir’ika.” He murmured sleepily, closing his eyes with a content little sigh.

Lips twitching into a small, involuntary smile, Boba glanced at the other three, finding Organa watching them with narrowed eyes while the two other clones shifted uncertainly behind her. “Are you going to sit or not.” Boba stated blandly to the three, staring at them with narrowed eyes as he tucked the blanket more around Din, tucking his hand into the wild curls of his lover hair.

His lips twitched again at the pleased hum that gained him and he looked back down to his lover, ignoring as he heard the shift of the three moving, finally taking a seat on the other bantha leather couch across from the caff table.

None of them said anything, Boba focusing on Din, carefully scratching at the other’s scalp and the other three observing and looking about at Boba’s and Din’s private space.

Not that Boba cared, anything incriminating had been put away into the bedroom and the beaded curtain made it hard to distinguish anything in there from here. He didn’t offer them any refreshment, they weren’t welcomed guests and princess herself had upset upset his princess.

So no, unless they asked for it or apologized, Boba was not about to be a gracious host. “Ori’jate, nuhoy jii ner runi.” He murmured softly, Din letting out a sleepy little noise against his stomach.

A feminine inclined voice cleared their throat and Boba grunted before looking up, giving Organa an unamused look as he continued slowly petting Din, resting his other hand on the others arm.

The two leaders gave each other a long look, both equally judging as the two clones just shifted on the couch, looking slightly nervous, as if they expected a firefight to happen.

“He’s not a slave.” Organa’s sure voice had Boba raising a brow.

Brown eyes shot past Boba, looking to the left and down and Boba followed it behind his shoulder, pausing when he saw what she had noticed.

Din’s silver beskar chestplate, barely peeking out from underneath a sheet but enough to be seen and the shape telling what it was. The silver cuirass couldn’t be mistaken for Boba’s, not when it was clearly seen on the stand with his helmet on top.

Boba slowly returned his eyes to her, staring at Organa, his jaw tense as he wished he had a blaster on him. “You have a second lieutenant,” Organa continued, staring mercilessly at Boba. “A mandalorian, silver dressed beskar,” Her eyes shot down to Din, his breath’s slow and steady. “…He speaks mando’a.”

Boba wanted to kill her.

Clearly some of his intent was showing as both her clones were reaching for their weapons.

However, Organa held up her hand, still staring at Boba. “…He’s here because he wants to be.” She stated, not asked.

Still, Boba nodded. “The intricacies of our relationship is not for anyone else to judge, but yes. I don’t fuck slaves and I don’t pay for sex, regardless what my former profession would have lead you to think.” He sneered at her, rubbing at Din’s hair still to keep his love asleep.

The last thing he wanted was for him to be awake for this.

Organa narrowed her eyes at him again.

He didn’t blame her for not having a positive view of him but frankly, she could shove those thoughts right up her arse. “My father,” The two clones jumped, eyes focused on Boba at the mention of Jango but Boba glared at the fancy little Senator that thought her worldview was everything and everything fit in neat little boxes. “Was a slave, I saw his scars, I will never forget them. What my employers chose to do, I can not change, I was trying to survive and I was not created with a silver spoon in my mouth princess. But I am in charge of Tatooine now. My legacy will be different.” He glared darkly at her.

Organa looked like someone had put her neat little view of the galaxy in a box and shaken it up.

Snorting, Boba settled back, focusing on Din as he worked out a tangle of curls. “…My Princess needs someone there, someone he can trust to help him put himself together. And that’s all I will say about our relationship. Anything else will get you sent the fuck out on your ass in the sand Organa. Not even Skywalker or your nifty craft up there can cower that information out of me…” He shot a glance at her, an ugly smirk crossing his face. “But you know, as they say, like father like daughter.” He sneered.

Several things happened at once.

Organa gave a hiss like an angry cat, knowing exactly what Boba was hinting at, reaching for the blaster on her hip as she stood from the couch. The two clones desperately reached for her at the same time as they reached for their own weapons and Boba jerked too, reaching for his own.

Din beat him to the punch, jolting into action, grabbing Boba’s blaster from his hip and throwing himself onto his feet with the blanket wrapped around his waist still, knocking his calves into the caff table even as he placed the mouth of the blaster under Organa’s chin, eyes feverish but there in the moment, recognizing a threat.

Outside of Din, everyone froze, Din standing still as a statue with the blaster held to the New Republic Senator’s throat. “…Put your blaster down.” Din raspy voice murmured, eyes cold as she stared down at her.

Organa bared her teeth a bit, visibly frustrated only to jump when Boba spoke, reaching up to place his hand on Din’s lower back, rubbing his lower back. “Udesii ner kar’taylir darasuum. Udesii.”

Din didn’t move, though his hand quivered slightly.

“Please love, come back here little one,” Boba crooned quietly, breathing out quietly through his nose as Organa dropped back and Din mirrored the action, settling back down against Boba with a tired little noise. “There we go. You’re suppose to rest.” He semi scolded, carefully tucking the blanket around the other again and encouraging him back to Boba’s lap.

The other three were watching of course, Organa still bristling but the two former troopers, who Boba was certain now was Rex and Wolffe if his memory served right, were relaxing more.

It confused Boba, until he remembered… most clones knew some mandalorian.

The two knew what Boba had called Din.

Sending the two troopers a slightly angry look, the scars thankfully hiding most of his flush, Boba continued working Din to a drowsy contentment again, working out the adrenaline fueled battle instincts the hunter had honed through so many years.

Thankfully, Organa at least didn’t seem to know and while the other two could have told her, Boba instead launched into whatever kark Organa wanted so he could get them off his planet.

One day of peace, that’s all he wanted, one karking day.

Ori’jate, nuhoy jii ner runi = Very good, sleep now my soul

Udesii ner kar’taylir darasuum = Calm down my love.

Sweet Princess- a clone comes to court? Does Din know where Boba came from?

Posted on av swmoddy

Today was shaping up to be a bad day all over.

Din had finally been released from the medbay, sleeping in their room curled into Boba’s body for comfort while Boba latched almost desperately onto the other man, spending a long time awake simply watching Din in their bed, sleeping peacefully in Boba’s arms as his bruise mottled body relaxed.

However, his fever had spiked that morning and had woken both of them with a nightmare, Din babbling apologies as he sobbed brokenly, his hand curled between the two.

Russal had warned them that this could happen, Din’s kidnapping stint in a tiny cell that was alternatively hot then cold depending on day or night without anything to cover him along with blood loss, pain and no water or food leading to Din’s body to now coping with the trauma.

The fever and chills were almost guaranteed and Boba would have been surprised if Din didn’t have a nightmare or two after what had happened.

He took note that Din often clung to his collar, his good fingers wrapped around the ring of it, as if the reassuring weight was needed to remind him where he was as he pressed into Boba’s body.

Tacked onto that, Leia Organa had arrived on Tatooine, thankfully sans Han Solo as Boba wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold himself back from killing the laserbrain if he showed up.

However she had also brought clones with her as guards and Boba didn’t want Din to see them. A frightened part of Boba was worried about Din comparing them, finding Boba lacking in some manner.

Yet there was nothing he could do about that.

He wasn’t willing to leave Din alone in the bedroom, not in his current state after nightmares and fever and Leia Organa was not a woman you left to wait.

Which was why he greeted her in the throne room with Din sleeping against his shoulder, his sweetheart wearing Boba’s robe once more as Boba wanted the other more covered up than the pretty lingerie outfits he normally wore as Boba’s Princess.

Honestly, Din really should have his own but the other seemed to prefer to steal Boba’s clothes when he could.

It was why Boba kept more than one robe and a few extra shirts and tunics, just so Din could raid his closet at times.

The sight of a sleeping, almost bare man in a collar on Boba’s lap had not impressed Organa and the clones behind her was watching too with uneasy eyes, despite not talking. Neither of the two aging clones were impressed with what they were seeing obviously and Boba was almost certain that one of them were Captain Rex.

Not that he cared.

None were as little impressed as Organa though, the woman’s voice rising and Boba got it, he really did.

She had once been chained to this very dais as Jabba’s pet but by the first light, he wanted to jab her in the throat to shut her up, his own anger rising to match her spiteful words as he struggled not to wake Din.

All in vain as Organa’s voice finally rose loud enough to shake sand off the ceiling as she eyed some of the mottled bruises on Din’s legs and the bandage around his knee with disgust, the clone Boba thought was Rex reaching out to try and reel her in, the former princess reaching for the blaster on her belt, the situation rapidly deteriorating as Boba’s guards were going for theirs.

But her voice had finally woken Din, his fever doing what torture could not as he gave a small, frightened cry and jerked to in Boba’s lap like a skittish tooka, breaking the tension of the room.

Instantly Boba’s focus turned, his arms coming up protectively to prevent Din from falling from his lap. “Mesh’la, verd’ika, calm down, gedet’ye.” Boba murmured quickly, shifting one hand up to Din’s upper back, holding him in place while his other captured Din’s formerly injured hand, cradling it to his chest.

Shuddering, looking around shakily, glancing over at the stunned trio in front of the dais, Din swallowed thickly. “W-What’s going on?” He rasped quietly, blinking the grit out of his eyes, licking his dry lips.

“Organa came to see me, to… negotiate.” Boba stated quietly, his voice still pitching through the throne room but everyone that had spent more than a day in the court knew better than to interrupt when Boba was speaking with Din.

The trio in front was still too surprised at Boba’s behavior to make more fuss, the likely Rex clone hand on Organa’s shoulder.

Din let out a low noise, shifting slightly in the others lap. “Organa… the hutt slayer?” He questioned, glancing towards her when Organa let out a surprised noise.

Snorting quietly but nodding as he cradled Din’s hand to his chest still, Boba removed his other arm from around his lover to bite at the fingertip of his glove, removing it.

He spat it out into Din’s lap and reached up to the others forehead, hissing quietly as he pressed his hand to the others forehead, a dark frown on his face. “Your fever is just as bad as it was in the morning. You should be in bed.” Boba murmured disapprovingly, bare hand stroking over Din’s hair and settling on the back of his neck.

Shuffling, pressing into the others neck, Din whined. “Don’t want to be alone.” He rasped out.

Sighing faintly, Boba cuddled the other more to his chest. “Yeah, see, that’s why you’re here,” Boba agreed quietly, shooting Organa a brief, angry glance before focusing back on his lover. “Just a bit more and we can go back to our room,” He stated in a promising voice, smiling faintly when Din let out a soft, relieved noise that turned into a hum when Boba lifted Din’s hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the pinkie and ring finger. “Just a little longer Princess.” He promised quietly.

“What is…” Organa paused, lips pursed, eyes glancing between Din and Boba.

Snorting, Boba cradled Din to his chest. “Princess got abducted a few days ago, he only recently left the medical bay with permission of our medic.” He drawled, feeling Din shift to glance at the New Republic Senator and clones.

At the mention, Russal waved nervously from over at the bar where he he had been speaking with Cobb, Boba nodding in return to him even as he took note of the Marshal’s hand on his blaster still.

Organa’s brows furrowed, glancing between the medic and Din’s bandaged and bruised legs.

“I however don’t like leaving him alone, he’s sick and prone to nightmares at the moment,” Boba continued and felt Din press back into his neck, a humiliated little whine coming from the other and Boba smoothed his gloved hand over the others spine in apology as he continued staring at Organa. “Nevertheless, you arrived in a nifty star destroyer and demanded my presence, on my planet and seeing as who your brother is along with that death craft, I’d rather not risk bringing a Jetti down on my palace even if you only brought two guards with you down.” He sneered at Organa.

In his lap, Din tensed slightly at the mention of Luke and Boba continued rubbing at the others back while cradling the hand, feeling the ring and pinkie finger twitch slightly in his grasp as Din hand fisted.

Any mention of Luke always had Din slightly on edge, mostly since he knew that Boba didn’t actually approve of the man. But Boba knew better and left sleeping dogs lay, as long as Luke karking Skywalker behaved and taught Din’s adiik properly, Boba would keep his comments to himself.

Organa however could go eat a fist if she upset Din one more time. Din needed rest, not being scared awake.

At the moment she looked like she had eaten a lemon, her pretty face puckered up into a thoughtful scrowl as the two stared at each other, King of Tatooine and former Princess of Alderaan. A silent battle of wills that only broke when she glanced once more at Din, taking in the sweat gathering on Din’s dark skin along with the faint trembles bringing her empathy to the surface. “…Is there accommodation close to the palace?” She questioned, crossing her arms over her chest, indicating that she would not be accepting any rooms Boba offered her in the palace.

Not that he wanted to house her after she freaked Din out.

Grunting, Boba tilted his head to look to the bar. “Rive, the inn is fully operational in town, right?” He questioned one of his lieutenants.

The armored, blue skinned twi’lek let out a soft hum and nodded, ignoring Organa wholly as she only gave her attention to her boss. It shouldn’t amuse Boba, the show of pettiness that could make negotiation harder but honestly, every time one of his former slave turned captains or lieutenants decided they didn’t like someone for how they spoke to Boba or Din, it made the cold concave of his heart flutter with delight.

They had been there long enough to know that Din’s power over Boba stretched far beyond what a common ‘slave’ had and knew that Din knelt willingly at his feet. “Yes sir. La-Vulpa had it up and running last week. Far as I know, he has at least ten beds for outsiders and I don’t think there’s more than five at the moment down in the town.” Riva stated calmly.

Turning his head to look at Organa, Boba raised a brow, gnarled scar tissue pulling at the move.

She nodded harshly in return. “Then we’ll continue this tomorrow.”

A concession, small one but it meant Din and Boba could retreat, could rest.

Shifting his arms around the other man, Din letting out a questioning noise only to squeak and throw his arms around the others neck for support when Boba stood with Din in a princess carry. “Tomorrow then. Riva,” He turned back to his lieutenant. “Contact me if there’s any issues or if Shand returns, otherwise, we’re not to be disturbed.” Riva’s armored lekku’s twitched, scraping against her pauldrons before she raised a fist and tapped her chestplate twice, bowing her head in respect.

“Of course sir, enjoy the rest of your day,” Her eyes flickered to Din. “Speedy recovery Princess, court isn’t the same without you here.” Din looked up at that, blinking at Riva before smiling weakly, settling his head back into Boba’s neck.

‘Rest, yes, rest would be good.’ Boba made his way around the throne, ignoring the two clones staring after him and Din even as Organa was already moving for the stairs.

Maybe he and Din could take a second bath, try and sweat the fever out and not just for cleaning purposes but regardless, they were returning to bed.

Translation:

Mesh’la = beautiful

Verd’ika = little soldier

Gedet’ye = Please

Offff, as a nurse, I wouldn’t be happy if I was Russal lol. But Din did need some comfort

Posted on av swmoddy

Russal had not been happy about finding them both in the same bed, the medic a mix between terrified and incensed as he stared down at Boba. Hopefully the kid grew a spine soon, he would need it to be dealing with the medical needs not only of Din but also of Boba himself.

Then there was Fennec and her captains and all the enforcers that got personal treatment at the palace and didn’t have to go to the clinic in town.

Boba still didn’t regret it, Din’s fragile expression the night before haunting him as he woke the other and gently had him sit up for Russal as Boba held his good hand, the medic checking first on Din’s hand.

The medic did have good news, telling him that while Din was going to have some weakness in the fingers and that he had likely lost some some feeling in the nerves, he would be able to use his hand fully with a bit of therapy.

He had advised getting a stress ball for Din to squeeze and curl his fingers around and would forward a few hand exercises to Boba’s terminal for the two to look over and get Din started on his physical therapy.

While still swollen, Din’s eye would also make a full recovery and with enough fluids, Din’s current dehydration would also be a thing of the past, though Boba was already awake of that.

He was just thankful that beyond the fingers, there wouldn’t be permanent harm to Din, seeing the other in the cell, slumped to the wall, his face bruised and swollen with blood running down his arm…

It had terrified Boba.

A fear he long thought buried had risen sharply as his mind jumped to Geonosis, wondering if he was too late, wondering if he was going to witness someone he loved die once more and be unable to do anything.

But Din was alive, weak but alive and once more safe with Boba.

Din had thrown a fit, a very weak one at that, until Boba gave him and clicked his collar back on the other man once Russal was finished examining him and had confirmed that Din’s neck was fully healed from the blisters it had when they found him.

Russal warned them both that Din would most likely experience a mild fever from what his body had been put through, but to not worry and just remember to eat and drink once they left the medbay.

His only major warning had been if Din started to feel that his fingers were hurting, to come back the moment he noticed in case there was an infection setting in, if there had been a contaminant that Russal had not removed or seen.

Though that would be for when he left the medbay, Russal wanted the man to spend one more night and where Din stayed, Boba remained.

Russal allowed it, if only because he saw how tense Din got at the prospect of being separated from Boba, recognizing what Boba already knew.

Din was still scared and needed what was familiar and safe around him.

Which was why the medic said nothing when he saw Boba in the same bed as Din later on, Din sleeping with his head pillowed on Boba’s shoulder as the King of Tatooine went over his messages on a pad.

The door opening however cut Boba’s perusal off as he turned his head, raising his brow when he saw the Marshal standing there awkwardly, the man stepping in when Boba gestured for him.

Best not let sand into the medbay afterall.

Slowly, Cobb wandered over, sans his armor and Boba absently noted the man was built but how he had been comfortable in Boba’s armor he had no idea. The man was leaner than Boba, the armor must have surely bruised him. “What can I help you with Marshal?” Boba drawled when the man was standing at the bedside.

Rocking on his heels, Cobb sucked on his teeth, glancing between Boba and a sleeping Din, his eyes lingering on the arm settled around the slender waist of the mando. And Boba took notice that the man was trying to avoid looking at Din’s face.

Interesting.

The marshal must feel like he didn’t quite have permission and was uncomfortable being there, and yet he had forced himself to come to the medbay.

Curious, Boba raised his brow at the other man.

Finally Cobb sighed deeply. “Look, I’m not gonna pretend to understand all of this,” He made a vague gesture towards Din and Boba noted the others hazel eyes flashing to the collar. He felt himself tense but Cobb’s next words disarmed any actions he thought of taking. “But I know Din is happy like this, genuinely happy and not the fucked up kind where you just get so used to a situation that you convince yourself you’re happy,” The marshal stuck his thumbs into his belt, shifting slightly on the balls of his feet. “And… he needs that. I know he needs that after everything. So while I don’t get it, any of it, I do know that you and this, genuinely makes him happy.” Cobb eyed Boba, a small frown on his face.

Boba said nothing, simply ran his hand through Din’s hair with gentle fingers.

Really, what was he suppose to say?

I’m sorry your friend is kinky and you don’t get it?

Or explain to the other the dimension of relationships some people could have?

It was clear that to Cobb Vanth, these weren’t quite the things he understood.

But from what Boba could pierce together about the marshal being a former slave, that wasn’t too shocking.

Someone forced to kneel didn’t always understand why someone else would willingly choose to submit to another.

As long as he didn’t judge Din for it, Boba couldn’t care less. Din needed friends, someone he could talk to and while Din had made a friend in Fennec…

Well, he couldn’t just have her and sometimes the comm unit from Nevarro was spastic at best depending on the signal, so speaking to Cara wasn’t always easy.

Cobb both knowing Din as the mando and as Princess however?

Yes, that made life easier for Din, it meant that he had a friend that could not only call him but also visit him.

A friend that was willing to come in gun blazing that was actually living on Tatooine and could reach him in less than a day if pressed.

Setting his pad aside, moving carefully so not to disturb Din, Boba let out a low rumbling noise and settled his now free hand in Din’s hair. “Some people,” He stated slowly, feeling Cobb watching him as Boba looked at Din’s sleep softened face. “Need to be able to let go but can’t quite manage on their own. They feel that they need to be in constant control but that is not a way for humans to live, it makes them go taunt, like a wire, a wire that could snap.” He glanced up to see if the other got it.

Cobb was frowning, hands tightening on his belt. “So he… this is a way for Din to relax?” He spoke slowly, as if he was uncertain that was the right question.

Tilting his head, Boba hummed. “Partly. He also gets pleasure from it. Some people find pleasure in obedience and there is a difference in what is forcibly taken,” Boba stared up at Cobb, the man breaking into an ugly flush with an angry grimace and Boba looked back down to Din. “And what is willingly offered to someone you trust not to abuse the privilege.”

The medbay descended into silence as Cobb thought that over, staring at Din’s IV line. “…I don’t get it,” He shook his head, sighing before smiling wryly. “But I don’t have to. Din’s happy, that’s what matters, especially after everything that’s gone down.” He shrugged.

Humming at that, Boba stroked Din’s greasy hair, noting he was going to wash the other when they got back to their room, maybe soak in the tub for a good while together. “As long as you remain his friend, I don’t think you have to do anything else.” He purposely used a light voice.

And got a deep, knowing snort in return. “And if I didn’t, you’d deal with it. Don’t think I don’t realize that,” Cobb gave him a vicious little grin and Boba smirked back. He kinda liked the other he had to admit. “And don’t worry. Din’s friendship isn’t made with demands, judgments or caveats, as long as he’s having fun, I don’t care.” He chuckled.

Alright, Boba really liked the marshal now.

It was nice to know Din had friends on Tatooine.

Oh damn! I really need to know if Din is gonna be fine in sweet princess 0.0 boba will be by his side during the recovery, right?

Posted on av swmoddy

Waking slowly, Din kept his breathing soft and his mind steady as his body started feeding him input of what was going on. It was a technique he had developed while hunting. Panicking helped no one, least of all oneself if you were alone in a volatile situation. Therefore, Din had forced his mind to cope with the situation, so he could later, when he was safe, scream and cry about it.

His body ached but it was a dull thudding ache along with muscle stiffness and the smell of sickly sweetness hung in the air, the kind that came from overripe fruits, lingered in his nose with an undercurrent of sterile chemicals only used one place.

A medical facility.

That meant Din was safe, or at the very least somewhere that didn’t wish him harm.

There was a squeeze of his right hand and Din felt his entire being relax with the certainty of safety, because he recognized the scarred, callused hand wrapped around his.

Boba, his Boba.

Opening his sore eyes slowly, noting that his left eye felt sore, Din tilted his head to look, meeting the relieved amber ones of Boba as the man tightened his grasp on Din’s hand. For a long moment, they just stared at each other and then Boba leaned in, pressing their foreheads together as Boba let out a shuddering breath, the lack of armor making it easier for the two to press in close to each other. “Din… Din.” He whispered, voice thick, as if he didn’t know what else to say other than to repeat Din’s name.

Not that Din minded. He liked it when Boba said his name, so few had used his name before and having Boba say it… It brought him warmth.

Squeezing the others hand, Din let out a low, raspy noise. The sound had Boba twitching and then he shifted, holding onto Din’s hand and honestly, Din was grateful. The other leaning away gave Din a moment to glance about.

This was clearly a medbay, the room was sterile but instead of utterly polished white, it had a more snow like color, giving the walls a tint of blue. It was soothing and Din found himself relaxing more at the sight.

There were no windows. The only light was the fixtures above them, but that was understandable if they were back in the palace. Leaving the medbay with windows could let in grains that were the last thing a medic would want. Sand was a contaminant that could get into injuries, samples or medical liquids.Din knew that sand could ruin bacta and lead to infection. Sand-spoiled bacta sealed the sand inside the wound. The body reacted to the foreign contaminant as it was ‘programmed’ to do, attacking newly healing wounds which also house small invaders. Everything could become necrotic far too fast after that.

To the north of the room, Din could spot four doors. Squinting at them, he suspected that one was a fresher and hopefully a shower was in there, unless Boba took Din back to their room. Another door, he suspected, was the office of the medic, though he couldn’t parse out what the last two doors might lead to.

A surgery room?

A medical storage room for equipment?

Maybe a room for cleaning equipment that the medic had set up.

The medic…

Russal, the zabrak, wide red eyes and yellow skin with black tattoos practically absorbing the sun from the window above Din.

The memory was faint and Din swallowed thickly as he tried to push the memory away.

He didn’t want to think about it as he instead looked to the south of the room where there was a third door. This one Din suspected would lead out into the rest of the palace and faintly, Din wondered where in the palace these medical spaces had been set up.

Boba’s hand tightened on his and Din focused back on the other, letting out a happy noise when he saw the cup with a small spout on it. He quickly raised his head from the pillow he was laying on. A small smile crossed Boba’s lips and he set the spout to Din’s cracked lips, carefully pouring in a small amount of water, waiting for Din to swallow and then repeating until the cup was empty.

Shockingly, the water was cold.

Or maybe it just felt cold to Din. Because Din knew that the thin, white sheet with faint pink tinge covering him must be stiff and the mattress beneath him hard, but after the days he had, it all felt lovely to him.

With the thought of the last few days however, Din was reminded of his hand and dropped his head back against the pillow to tilt it, looking at his left hand.

He paused when he saw the pinkish orb locked around his hand as it rested along his side, staring at the gel like substance wrapped around his hand, a hand that had all five fingers with an IV attached through the gel to the top of his hand, leading to a bag hanging on a pole.

Confused, Din turned his head to Boba, eyes as wide as he could get them at the moment, full of questions. “Russal attached your fingers,” Boba stated, seeing what had Din so confused. “He said that your fingers might not be as functional as before, though physical therapy would help you recover somewhat.” He continued more quietly.

Nodding slowly with understanding, letting his mind mull over that information, Din slowly looked back to his hand. From what he could see, his hand looked undamaged, he couldn’t even see a scar through the gel where he knew they had been severed.

“…Can you move them?” Boba queried quietly, his grip tight on Din’s other hand.

Licking his still chapped lips, Din brow furrowed as he focused on his hand, thumb, index and middle finger easily pulling in towards his palm. The ring finger followed, slower but still moved by Din’s muscles.

The pinkie finger however he could tell was barely responding to Din’s decision to make a fist, was simply pulling along due to the tendons in his hands. That had been the first finger to go and it made sense that it was worse off.

Resting his fingertips against his palm, Din let out a shaky breath, feeling his hand throb inside the gel orb before he slowly straightened his fingers out once more. He couldn’t quite straighten his pinkie however and Din sighed deeply as he looked to Boba.

The other looked thrilled, having watched closely. “That’s… that’s better than Russal suspected. He stated that you might not be able to move either.” He breathed out heavily and looking closely, Din saw how tired the other man.

“…Have you slept at all?” He whispered shakily, grunting when Boba grimaced heavily.

Tugging at the others hand, Din gave him a pleading look. “Din… love…” Boba weakly protested, glancing to what Din had suspected was the office.

Clearly the other was thinking he had to inform the medic that Din was awake.

“Please… we can… can deal with everything in the morning,” Din pleaded, tugging again. When Boba wavered, Din spoke again. “I just want you to hold me… make me feel safe.” He wished his voice didn’t sound as broken.

Instantly Boba’s scarred face softened and he shifted, reaching down.  If he was honest, it took Din an embarrassingly long moment to realize the other was removing his boots. But finally, finally Boba crawled onto the narrow medical bed, carefully shifting Din around until they were curled up on their sides and into each other, Din’s head settled under Boba’s chin and against his cloth covered chest and his healing hand suited onto Boba’s hip for support.

The warmth of the others body was a godsend and Din sniffled quietly as Boba’s hands slowly rubbed his back.

Boba didn’t smell good, the scent of souring sweat hung on him, but Din couldn’t bring himself to care a lick about it. He was sure he didn’t smell any better after all those days in captivity, unless someone had given him a sponge bath.

And by the feel of his own hair as Boba’s hand came up to stroke it for a few moments, Din highly doubted that.

He must be so gross, but he was still so tired and he didn’t want to move from Boba’s body or grasp. “You’re safe, you’re here. I have you, I have you Din. I have you love, my sweetheart. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.” Boba whispered, his voice a tad frantic, as if he was assuring himself as much as Din.

But Boba was right.

He was safe, he was home and in Boba’s arms and that was all he had wanted those lonely days abducted by those that wanted to force Boba to give them things.

“I know…” Din agreed in a quiet rasp, nuzzling slowly. “I’m in your arms after all, my Boba, my buir’ika.” He smiled shakily, Boba’s arms tightening around his body at the words.

Safe.

Moddy!! You can’t leave us on a cliffhanger in SweetPrincess. What happens next?? How does Boba react to seeing Din and vice versa?? Pleeeeease I gotta know 👀🥰💜

Posted on av swmoddy

There is a panicked voice echoing faintly, screams of pain and yet Din can’t quite bring himself to open his eye.

He feels so tired and sometimes the pirates get into arguments among themselves.

They’re not a well oiled crew, that’s for sure.

Just like Ranzer’s old crew when Din worked with them.

Assholes the whole lot and so are these pirates and a vicious part of Din hopes one of them kills the other, regardless who has started the fight. A bigger part of him just wants to sleep as his body throbs with pain.

In his dreams, he’s with Boba, curled together in their bed as Boba strokes Din hair and whispers soft nothings, Din’s own hands tracing the scars on Boba’s body with tender reverence.

In his dreams, he’s home.

He’s actually a bit annoyed as he hears a fleshy thump, someone hitting the wall if he was to take a guess and a male voice pleading before there’s a fleshy thump and the sound of boots pretty much running in his direction.

Din lets out a soft noise, flinching weakly at the clang of his cell door as he forces his eye open to look, wondering weakly if its one of the pirates coming to take another finger and he can’t lose himself to his dreams if that’s what’s happening.

Instead of a leering pirate or the karking demagolka captain, he’s meet with black and green as Boba drops to his knees in front of Din, throwing his helmet off his head so Din can see his scarred face and wide eyes. “Din’ika.” The man whispered shakily, reaching out to cup his face.

Letting out a low, sobbing noise of relief through cracked lips, Din leaned into the gloved hands, wishing they were bare.

Faintly he also took notice of the slight sheen of blood on Boba’s cuirass and the part of him that had been raised a warrior that he could never quite put aside, snarled in vicious satisfaction, realizing that Boba had come in guns blazing.

Boba had come for him. “Bo-” He rasped out, his voice cracking on the others name as he wheezed, his throat struggling to swallow as Boba pressed their foreheads together for just a moment with a soft murmur. Then the other leaned back, calling over his shoulder.

“Don’t talk sweetheart, let your voice rest. Russal! Get here or I swe-” What Boba was swearing was never verbalized as a young, slightly spooked looking zabrak suddenly materialized, carrying a heavy looking bag as nervous eyes looked at Din.

They widened even more and Din wondered what kind of condition he was in for the zabrak to look like that. ‘He’s kinda pretty, all yellow and black…’ Din noted faintly as the horned male settled down on the sandy ground.

He started digging through the bag, bringing out hypos and bandages and oh, this must be the medic Boba had been talking about getting on staff for them personally. For the palace alone and in particular because Din had his nasty habit of cauterizing things.

Well, that made sense.

Wait, the two were talking, Din tried to focus on what they were saying. “ -nd you need to lower his arms sir, the blood flow to them must be horrible if he’s been kept here the entire time, I’ll do what I can but the rest has to be done in the medbay of the ship we took here.” Russal spoke quickly, a slight lisp to his words.

Must be the somewhat too long canines in his mouth doing that and Din realized that his mind wasn’t tracking properly what was going on.

If it was, he would be focusing on what was going on and not random things like the fangs of the medic.

Boba’s hands closed around his arms, fiddling with the rope tying them above his head and Din whimpered quietly as he felt the brush against his finger stumps. “Shh I know Din’ika, I know sweetheart. Just a few more minutes.” Boba whispered, Din giving a small cry when his sore arms were being lowered.

Hands, unfamiliar and colder than Boba, touched his shoulder and Din flinched away from them and towards his lover, feeling the arms of the other come up around him. “Shh, shh love, let Russal work on you. I know it must hurt but let him do his job.” Boba whispered, keeping an arm around him as he bit at the fingertips of his other glove, pulling it off.

The warm hand brushing his face had Din settling slightly, nuzzling into the hand as Russal continued prodding at injuries, Din hissing when he felt a hypo being set into the meat of his shoulder.

But Boba was there, his fingers running through his hair and into the back of his head and a distant part of his mind recognized that Boba was looking for injuries with the way he was prodding at his head.

Found the mudhorn egg too on the back of his head.

The pain was receding though, Din let out a low noise as he took in that the pain was not quite disappearing but it wasn’t as sharp. The pinch of the hypo must have been some form for painkiller and Din let out a soft noise as he rested his head on Boba’s pauldron.

“There we are… just… just relax sweetheart, ner mesh’la.” Boba whispered, voice shaking slightly as he cupped the back of Din’s head, pressing his lips to Din’s forehead.

Odd, his lips almost felt chilled and after several long minutes, between hissing with pain each time Russal touched or cleaned something, Din realized that he must be feverish, his own skin burning and therefore Boba’s normally so warm lips felt cool.

“Sir? I need you to hold him. I’m gonna have to brace his leg, I can’t quite tell if its broken or twisted but I don’t like the idea of moving him without bracing it at least.” The murmur went over Din’s head but the tightening of Boba’s arms around him did not.

It made him whine quietly, only to be hushed by Boba.

There was a shift, cool hands touching below and above Din’s right knee and he only had a moment to tense up when it was suddenly straightened and pulled.

Din screamed with pain and that was the last he knew as his eyes rolled up into his head.

()()()

Boba let out a vicious curse as Din went lax in his arms, burning eyes jumping to the medic even as Russal ignored him, quickly wrapping Din’s knee up in white gauze. He flinched when he caught Boba’s eyes though. “I-I’m sorry sir, but we really couldn’t move him without giving his knee support.” He squeaked out, shaking slightly.

Breathing out, Boba nodded as he continued cuddling Din’s unconscious body, glancing back to find Fennec still keeping the captain on her knees with the blaster in the weequay’s back. The woman was snarling but there wasn’t much she could do after having been subdued by Shand and her personally trained guards.

Boba felt the urge to go over and do… something, anything towards the woman but Din took priority.

Finding his love half conscious and so dehydrated he could barely talk in the little cell, face flushed with fever from infection and yet his skin clammy pale from his own pain, Boba had felt sick to the heart and there was no way he could leave the others side when Din looked at him with his one good eye, the relief and love at seeing Boba overwhelming.

While Fennec was busy, another was more free to move, Cobb coming over with his eyes flashing nervously to Boba and then down to Din’s face, a thin stream of blood coming from the left temple, Cobb having hit the wall at some point during their surge into the buildig. “Did… is he going to be alright?” The marshal questioned, hand tight on his blaster as he stared down at them.

Swallowing thickly, Boba nodded slowly even as he wanted to voice his appreciation for Cobb helping them. “I’ll make sure that physically, he’ll be fine.”

Cobb paused a bit, catching the wording with a grimace.

But he nodded slowly, recognizing that Boba couldn’t answer for Din’s mental state after these three days of pain and hurt Din had gone through, helpless and at the hands of thugs. And Din had barely been tracking anything other than the pain he was in and Boba’s touch.

He didn’t know if the other’s mental state would heal as well.

He could only hope.

“There,” Both men focused on the medic, the young man flinching at the attention even as he squared his shoulders. “The patient can be moved now. I suggest we make haste to the medbay sir.” Russal licked his lips nervous and Boba nodded sharply, reaching for his helmet to put it on. Din was unconscious, so seeing his ugly mug wouldn’t help the other.

And Boba would not leave his father’s armor behind ever again.

Carefully, he shifted his arm beneath Din’s legs and upper back, standing slowly with a grunt as his back protested.

But he refused to let anyone else carry Din, tucking the mando up against his chest as he stepped out of the doors with Cobb and the doctor following, moving to Fennec side, he paused to stare down at the captain as she now cowered beneath his cold visor, Din tucked protectively to his chest. “…Everyone alive is to be brought to the palace, am I clear?” He stated, his voice crackling coldly through the vocoder before he made his way to the ship.

Boba knew he could trust Fennec to follow order and if he smirked a bit when he heard a pained yelp of the pirate captain as the sharpshooter got her moving… well, that was for him to know.

Here I am enabling you to hurt my soul. Can I have a kidnapping in sweet princess. Or an attempt. What would happen if someone tried to take din from boba?

Posted on av swmoddy

Grumbling faintly to himself as he set his helmet on the arm, Boba tilted his head to look up at Fennec as the zabrak hurried out of his sight, having reported from town about the build. “You know where Din went?” He questioned, voice pitched low so it wouldn’t carry.

Din preferred to keep his name out of the court as Princess, to avoid Bo-Katan’s attention when she finally arrived and the separation from bared face to armor was still a threshold the other hadn’t quite managed to get comfortable, not yet.

That time would come but not yet.

Fennec shrugged, comfortably settled on the arm of Boba’s throne. “Think he went down to look at some of the weaponry. You know how he gets.” She smirked a tad and Boba sighed to himself.

Seemed he’d have to find Din a job soon if he was getting antsy.

To be fair, it had been a month since Din’s last job, the other had been doing good with just sparring and training. Since his nightmare, Din had been slightly clingy, not that Boba had been much better.

It was nice to have Din in his arms, sleeping, safe and sound and clingy and kissy.

Boba liked affection, sue him!

There was a small throat being cleared and Boba looked away from his friend and enforcer, his brows jumping in surprise to find one of the younglings from the town standing in front of his dais, the boy looking nervous as he clung to a gray, duracrete box.

He looked like one of the market boys if Boba was right, wearing roughspun but proper clothes, a dark sun tanned skin and wide, hazel eyes as he peered up at Boba from under a mop of curls that almost reminded Boba of his lover. “I-I’m sorry for disturbing sir, but I was paid t-to deliver this to you.” The boy stammered out, his voice cracking from spot to spot in clear evidence of puberty.

“A delivery?” Boba repeated slowly, his eyes falling back to the box the boy was clinging to. “Paid? By who lad.”

The boy shuffled his booted feet on the sand, sucking on his bottom lip. “Um, I don’t really know. They were strangers, I’d never seen them before but they paid me a handful of of peggat to deliver this box to the King of Tatooine, giving it directly to you and you alone sir.” He swallowed thickly, shaking a bit from nerves.

Clearly, this had not been the boys idea and now he looked like he regretted accepting the deal.

If he was honest, the box could be anything, a bomb even but Boba didn’t think so.

Raising his brow, Boba glanced back up at Fennec, the sharpshooter looking as confused as him before he looked back to the nervous boy. “Well, lets see what these people wanted me to have then.” Boba held out his hand, gesturing for the lad to step closer.

The boy, teen really, stepped forward and gingerly handed over the box before quickly stepping back, stopping reluctantly when Boba held up a hand for him to wait. Depending on the contents of the box, Boba would have more questions for the boy about the ones who asked for him to deliver it to the King of Tatooine.

It was light, for some reason Boba had expected more heft to it, it looked quite large after all.

An uneasy feeling rose in Boba’s chest as he settled the box on his lap, staring down at the gray duracrete box.

He didn’t want to open it and clearly Fennec recognized that as she settled her hand on his shoulder. “Boba?” She whispered quietly.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this.” Boba rumbled. He’d gotten used to listening to his instincts, especially during his hunts when he was still a bounty hunter and his instincts were wailing at that moment.

Still he released the latches on the box, pulling it off in a smooth move.

His heart leapt to his throat, his hands clenched on the lid and he heard Fennec take a snapping breath of air as his head buzzed in a convoluted mix of dangerous emotions.

The most prominent was fear and raw fury.

Because in the box, was a soft, silky length of white cloth, stained with darkening blood as it is drying into the fabric.

Resting on top of the silky outfit, the outfit Din had been wearing earlier and Boba had marveled at how it made Din’s tanned skin glow, lays Din’s beskar collar with a severed tanned finger resting in the middle of silver and white.

Several court members dropped under the tables as Boba crushed the duracrete lid with his hands, the boy squeaked loudly and trembled as Boba rose with the box held in his hand, duracrete falling off his lap from the broken lid. “Tell me everything about the ones who sent you here.” Boba hissed, his voice quiet but all the more frightening for it.

An angry, raving monarch was one thing, something to be soothed. An icy cold and calculative furious one could massacre a planet.

More than one person almost pissed themselves in fear as they stared with wide eyes as the King plucked a familiar beskar collar out of the box, several people squeaking in horror as realization set in about what had pissed Boba Fett of.

“Tell me who took my Princess?!”

()()()

Squinting slightly at the cell door with the dim light provided from the window over his head, Din wondered how long it would take until his left eye was too swollen to see anything.

If experience told him anything, maybe another hour.

If he remained awake long enough that was.

As it was, stripped of all his clothes, sheer as they were, his arms restrained over his head, with a gag tied cruelly around his head as he sat on the floor of the warm cell he was being kept in, he wasn’t sure he would remain awake much longer.

The damn cell was like a sweat box and his body throbbed with pain every time he shifted, sweat gathering on his skin and dripping into open sores on his body. His legs ached from being kept up towards his chest but Din didn’t quite dare lower them since the devaronian kept watching him with lidded, interested eyes.

He didn’t want to give the mutt more to look at, regardless how his legs ached or how much pressing his legs together generated more heat.

Knowing Tatooine though, he knew, come nightfall, everything would grow almost icy cold, leaving Din to freeze, so he better enjoy the warmth while he could, even if it left him feeling dehydrated, his lips chaffing around the cloth in his mouth.

Well, enjoy it as long as he was left alone, Din didn’t like the way some of his abductors were looking at him, some of them obviously leering at him with lust as they looked him over, while others were angry over the comrades they had lost when Din was ambushed.

Din didn’t go down easy, still battle hardened as he was and apparently this group, idiots as they were, didn’t expect him to have a vibroblade tucked on him in the sheer folds of his outfit.

Hopefully, that meant that Boba could find evidence of the shuffle and start gathering clues.

His left hand throbbed with pain, reminding Din that these assholes had removed one of his fingers, as a ‘message’ to the King.

It was meant as a point, that they were quite willing to harm Din and he had seen it in action before. A threat display.

Never in a million years had he thought he’d be exposed to it himself though and he could only hope that infection wouldn’t set in, though he could tell a few of the other sores on his body was showing signs of infection.

He wasn’t sure what they were wanted from his buir’ika but Din hoped to hell that Boba wouldn’t give them it as he shifted in an attempt to get more comfortable, grimacing as the hunter felt sand itching up his ass crack.

Din wanted to go home.

He wanted to crawl into the large tub in the King’s suite, sit in Boba’s lap, have his hair washed and then snuggle up into their bed, wrapped up in his lover’s arms.

Din wanted to be safe with his buir’ika.

As he heard a commotion from the front of whatever place they were keeping him, Din sent of a prayer to manda and the ka’ra that Boba would find him and find him soon.

He’d rather keep the rest of his body parts.

I looove your works <3 If you have time, I would like to propose this: Din waking up from a nightmare and Boba going into a full daddy mode, comforting him. Thank you!

Posted on av swmoddy

The coldness of the ocean burned him as it found every gap and opening of his armor, his kute unable to keep out the amount as the salt gagged him and his rushing of the ocean covered his own cries.

But not the cries of his kid.

Of Grogu.

Grogu is gone, the Jedi has him and Din is drowning in the icy cold ocean of Trask without a friendly soul in sight.

Din had to get out but every time he got up, every time he reached for the metal bars above him he was showed back down into the water, to choke on more water as someone laughed and laughed and leered about his beskar.

His lungs hurt and his body felt heavy but more than that, behind the dark shadows above pushing him back down every time he made progress in getting out of the water was the sight of Boba that caught his attention.

Boba was standing there, arms crossed over his chest, face indifferent to Din’s suffering and Din felt the need to scream as he tried to reach for the man, trying to call for him despite the water filling his lungs, burning his limbs in their coldness.

Boba cocked his head at him, a considering tilt to his helmet before he simply turned, his jetpack firing up, simply disappearing into the sky.

Boba leaves him and Din cries out for his buir’ika, feeling like he’s about to shatter as he’s left behind again and Din can’t take it, he’s going t-”DIN!” A voice roars, arms around him as he’s brought out of the water shockingly, flailing in the grip before jerking away as best he can and throwing up.

For a moment, he’s so out of it that he can’t make heads or tail of anything, gasping and shuddering as he’s caught between reality and fantasy.

But slowly, as his breathing mellows down, the world comes into focus with Boba’s frantic whispering in his ear and the warm arms keeping him against Boba’s chest, the others hands on his chest.

He is not in the water and he’s not on Trask, Trask is far behind him, months and months by now and Trask was before he had ever meet Boba or been held by him or called him buir’ika.

Din is on Tatooine, he’s in the King’s suite of the palace, Boba’s palace in their warm bed. It must be around early morning, some slight light already making its way between the gaps of the curtain of the window and its enough to let Din see that he’s vomited onto the floor.

At least that’s some good news, vomiting in bed is never pleasant and is a whole more of a process to clean up.

Then there is the idea of throwing up on Boba…

Well, that would be humiliating, Din has done it once before already but he’d rather not repeat it, regardless how kind Boba had been during the entire stomach bug episode.

As he’s no longer struggling, Boba eases up his grip but only slightly, enough to ease one hand up to touch Din’s sweaty face, the scarred face popping into view in the half light. “Are you with me now sweetheart?” He questioned quietly, brows furrowed.

Swallowing thickly, Din nodded. “Yes, sorry.” He managed to croak, groaning faintly as Boba slowly shifted them, clearly intent on sitting up.

It was the last thing Din wanted but he still shifted with Boba until they were sitting against the headboard, Din’s back still to Boba’s chest. The lamp on Boba’s side is turned on, Din blinking blearily at the sharper light and by the time his eyes adjust, Boba is holding the canteen he keeps on his bedside for Din to take.

Taking it, Din swishes his mouth with water and swallows, the taste of bile disappearing before drinking more of the chilled water. He dazedly wonders why its cold before his brain reminds him that Boba invested in a fancy canteen that keeps the content chilled down, a wry smirk on the other man’s  scarred face when he told Din he liked to drink cold water in the heat.

His shaky thoughts are cut off as the other speaks up. “You were having a nightmare.” Boba’s chest rumbles against Din’s back as the thicker man murmurs and Din sinks more into the others chest at the reminder, swallowing thickly before taking in more water.

He nods but says nothing, replaying the nightmare in his head. It makes him shudder, his heart rabbiting as he remembers how indifferent Boba had looked in the nightmare.

He had never looked at Din like that.

Not even when they first meet.

Boba shifts behind him, his hands shifting to cup Din’s stomach instead, rubbing slowly, likely feeling how hard Din’s heart his beating. It worries him and a part of Din, still anxious from the dream, eases slightly. “Din, plea-”

“You left me,” Din whispered, the words cutting off Boba. “I… I was drowning and… and you left me.” He swallows thickly before turning around, holding the canteen tightly as he presses his face into Boba’s neck.

The warm body goes unnaturally still for a moment before Boba’s arms practically crushes Din to his chest. “You listen to me and you listen well, Din Djarin,” Boba whispered, voice fierce and low and Din has spent months listening and obeying that voice. He’s helpless to do anything but listen. “You are mine and I am never letting you go. They’ll have to pry you away from me,” His voice is almost vicious and then it soften, Boba’s scarred hand slowly stroking over the back of Din’s head, down his nape and settling on his upper back. “I love you too much to let you go now.” He confessed brokenly.

It should scare him, incense him, the idea of being kept and chained, of Boba’s vicious voice telling him he won’t let Din go but Din is also the King of Tatooine’s Princess. Boba’s chains are not the chains of slavery and Boba lets him fly when he wants to. Din leaves on bounties when his restlessness gets the better of him.

Boba’s words aren’t those of enslavement and servitude.

They’re promises of Din always having somewhere to go, of Boba’s love, of a safe place to put his head down.

The promise in those words makes Din sniffle a bit against the warm skin of Boba’s neck, still clutching the canteen as he swallows thickly in an attempt to stem the slow tears.

When he still says nothing, Boba shakes him slightly with his arms still around Din. “Do you understand me Din? I’m not letting you go. I’ll follow you anywhere if you leave me.” He whispered against Din’s temple, lips brushing gently against the skin that’s rapidly cooling with cold sweat now.

Manda, something must be wrong with Din but that promise soothes him, the realization that Boba won’t let him go.

Hiccuping a bit, Din nodded. “I-I get it. I get it Boba. I love you too. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He resisted the urge to whimper and simply let Boba arrange him into his body, feeling the canteen being plucked out of his clutching hands.

It gone, Din clutches Boba’s thin sleep shirt instead, hiccuping as he cries quietly into the older man’s neck.

Din has a place, his place is here and Boba won’t leave him.

Din won’t be left alone again.

How was Din’s first day as Princess in public like? I imagine it took him awhile to get used to it.

Posted on av swmoddy

People had long ago gotten used to Princess in the court, the way he swished around in his pretty outfits with the smooth gait of a predator despite being dressed in lace and silk, confidant as he left Fett’s side if always slightly saddened in a way others couldn’t put words to.

Considering they had seen him murder someone with a serving tray of all things, no one doubted the predator in him.

However many of the court also remembered the early days of the court, the first few weeks after the slaves were liberated and Princess had become part of the daily life. The skittishness, hesitance and sadness in large brown eyes as he clung tightly to Fett’s side every time he was in public, the slump of his shoulders and the way he sought comfort from the scarred King.

The day had begun normal enough, though a few had noted that Fett had a pillow resting on the floor between the his feet. It had been dismissed, ignored as a stray item no one had bothered to pick up despite looking quite expensive with the clear indication of the pillow being both large and properly stuffed. There were a few items like that around the palace that people paid little mind to but had been the first sign that something was going to be different today.

Another sign was Shand, the way she would sometimes pause on the arm of Fett’s throne, glancing around.

A few had speculated that she was missing the bounty hunter that was always leaning on the throne too, many thinking the man was of on one of his hunts that Fett sent him of on.

Fett had just dismissed a New Republic liaison and set his helmet on the empty arm when it happened.

“Buir’ika?” A low and somewhat unfamiliar voice interrupted the normal sounds of the court, several people eyes going to the door they knew lead to Fett’s private quarters.

It was open, a naturally darker hand gently curled on the doorway as a brown haired man peered around the corner, brown eyes wide as he peeked out nervously, sucking on a thin bottom lip.

He was a pretty thing, that was for sure despite the clear nerves he was having, the brown hair curling lightly around his ears, a thin groomed mustache on his lips with his large eyes being expressive over a hooked nose.

“Ah, Princess, there you are,” Fett smiled slightly to many’s surprise, sitting up in his throne before holding out his hand. “Come here sweetheart.” He ordered, patient as the other man shuffled a bit in the doorway before he finally slipped out, giving everyone their first proper look at him.

Tall and tanned with muscles all in the right spots, which coupled with the scars told about a fighter throughout life, wearing a silver collar with a ring in it that a few recognized as beskar from Djarin walking around, bare feet padding lightly on the floor.

But more notable than any of that was his state of dress, a soft peach pink babydoll that was thigh length and somewhat sheer, enough to see that the man was wearing a pretty lacy thing underneath even if they couldn’t see it clearly through the babydoll.

A pleasure slave.

But… Fett had dismantled the slavery trade.

Yet he was keeping one himself?

He had killed people for less offenses.

A few muttered among each other at the hypocrisy of it, watching closely.

This Princess gave an uncertain glance towards the people in the room before slowly but smoothly making his way to Fett, grasping the gloved hand.

Instantly Fett pulled him around the throne and guided him down between the sprawl of his legs, right onto the puffy red pillow everyone had noted earlier and been confused about. Princess shifted a bit around before settling down on his rear with his feet tucked out to the side on the inside of Fett’s foot, holding onto Fett’s hand tightly by the look of his whitened knuckles.

The grip eased though, when Fett ran his other hand over the man’s feathery hair, murmuring something in mandalorian before guiding the others head until it rested against his thigh. Slowly, Princess let go of the man’s hand and instead wrapped his arms around the man’s other leg, rubbing his cheek to the thigh with a low noise. “Better?” Fett rumbled, eyes tracking the others movement.

A hum escaped Princess, the man smiling shyly up at Fett. “’Lek buir’ika.”

Fett patted at the dark hair again, teasing a few of the curls as he settled back against the throne. “Jate, just stay there for now.” He murmured, his hand still settled in the others hair.

The man was obviously mandalorian, seeing as he spoke it as a second nature but the name princess…

It was obviously not a title and not a real name, but maybe a nickname to go between the two, as if Princess’s real name didn’t matter and maybe in the space between Fett’s thighs, it didn’t?

It was still strange.

The court took days to adjust to the presence of Princess and Princess himself spooked easily, turned skittish if stared at too long.

But every time it looked like he was on the verge of fleeing, Fett would do something and it would relax the man.

Never something as crude as drugs, no, Fett’s actions were simple things that seemed to sooth more than it made Princess compliant as drugs would.

A gentle ungloved hand stroking through hair or over the nape, a low question in mandalorian, the offer of something to eat or drink or even carefully drawing the other up into his lap.

All of it served to relax Princess every time his muscles tensed up.

Especially the latter one, as Princess took full advantage of being in Fett’s lap to hide in the man’s neck.

Almost delicately, depending on the position Princess had as sitting across or straddling the lap, Fett would run his bare hand over the others smooth looking thighs or gingerly around the ankle.

A steady form for touch, a comfort for the slave that sometimes, despite how skittish he seemed, would disappear under the skirt of Fett’s clothes to pleasure him.

The speculations were ripe.

Everything from a fallen noble of the old mandalorian clans to a disgraced warrior turned slave turned Fett’s pleasure toy.

A completely fantastical one even suggested it was the bounty hunter but the person who suggested that was laughed so hard out of court he didn’t come back until a month later when the hubbub of the court had settled with the new addition of Fett’s pleasure toy.

After all, they had seen the ferocity of Djarin, the idea of him kneeling at Fett’s feet, skittish like a feral tooka like Princess was the height of hilarity to many. Even if they had no idea how Djarin looked under the helmet, many doubted it could possible be the competent hunter when Princess was so easily spooked by simple if long looks.

As far as his apparent hypocrisy went, it was a pretty addition at the very least and once Princess wasn’t so skittish, he did wander around on new sandals Fett had clearly gotten him despite the thin beskar chain sometimes hooked to the ring of his collar.

So not a broken slave at least but maybe one that needed the dependency?

Fett did not seem to need Princess, despite his looks, many would go to bed with him for the power, so it wasn’t co-dependency.

But maybe it was pity for a very pretty little thing when he had been so skittish and clung to Fett so hard in the first few weeks and months. Maybe someone had broken in Princess before the slavery on Tatooine was shut down or maybe Fett himself had but it was clear he didn’t want to be far from the man, he wouldn’t be the first slave struggling to find their path after being freed.

And many of those came to Fett’s palace where they found purpose, maybe this pretty little toy had also come to Fett’s palace.

Well, the little thing was pushing it, Princess was taller than Fett, but pretty for sure despite the white lines of scars on his body from whatever had injured him in the past. And even prettier for the outfits that bought out the glow of his skin and the color of his eyes.

As far as hypocrisy went, maybe this one could be tolerated at the very least.