I’m back!
I know it’s been a while. 2024 hasn’t been kind to me, and my creative spark just wasn’t there. But I’ve had so many stories I’ve wanted to write, and as always, Boba has been there as a comfort character to get me through. So, now as the year is drawing to a close, I want it to end better than it started…with new content!
I’m currently writing the next chapter of Moth to a Flame, but in the meantime, here is something entirely new, the first chapter in The Way That You Were! I hope you enjoy!
(Also, @daimyosprincess I finally wrote this! So sorry for the delay 😅)
Pairing: Boba Fett x (F)Reader
Rating: Explicit 18+
Trigger warnings: Injuries, blood, emotional distress, abuse, capture
Series synopsis: A desperate bounty crash-lands on Tatooine and seeks sanctuary in the palace, only to discover the greatest bounty hunter of all time rules from its throne. Will she find mercy, death, or something more?
Ch 1 - These Burning Sands, Your Scarred Hands
“I’ve found, in my experience, that the most desolate place can bring healing. Wastelands can flourish. Heartbreak can mend, and love begin anew. Even the mighty desert can once again bloom.”
You didn’t remember the crash, only that you’d awoken to the charred wreckage of your ship, blood stained clothes, and the acidic tang of grief heavy on your tongue.
You honestly didn’t know how you survived, tangled in the debris. Part of you wished you didn’t.
Despite this, you kept going.
Forcing yourself to climb from the wreckage, even as your vision spun. Searching it for anything you could salvage, finding very little. Realizing that it had nothing left for you, and you’d hopefully have better luck moving on. Ironically, your past was also something better left behind, just as smoldering as the husk of metal you were abandoning.
You weren’t familiar with this planet, one your ship had registered as Tatooine before it had plunged into the atmosphere, one that boasted the biggest desert you’d ever seen. In fact, you wondered if the entire planet was just one massive, windswept wasteland.
Your pain had reduced to a pounding headache, nearly distracting you from the burn of muscles unaccustomed to traversing a desert’s shifting terrain. It couldn’t distract you from the deep gash in your shoulder, out of your reach, the extent of the damage unknown. There was no point in staying with the ship, not when you needed to disappear. You were alone, wounded, and running out of options.
There were too many hunters after you, but perhaps you could disappear on a planet as vast as this one. Maybe the sands would be your savior, instead of your doom.
You peered up at the setting suns, a fierce burning duality sinking behind the cresting dunes. They made the sand shimmer, and for a moment, you could have sworn the fiery light transmuted the sand to gold. Despite your circumstances, it was beautiful, but your awe didn’t last. It would be dark, soon. Despite your lack of desert experience, you knew it would only grow more dangerous once night fell.
You had to find shelter, quickly.
You stopped on the sloping hill of a dune, boots sinking in the sand, and cast a glance back the way you’d came. The faint dark trail of smoke from your crash was still evident on the horizon, cutting through the sky like an ugly wound. You hoped you’d made a far enough distance away, even though you had absolutely no idea where you were going.
Your crash was a beacon…one that would draw far too much attention.
Sighing, you crested the dune with clenched fists, blood trickling down your arm and dripping into the sand, blossoming like a macabre flower. Great. You were no doubt leaving an easy trail that even the most inexperienced welp of a bounty hunter could track. You didn’t want to think of the experienced ones.
Your vision blurred, and you blinked, panic finally, truly, setting in. You were losing blood, moving too slowly, and rapidly running out of time.
You turned your quivering gaze ahead, eyes wearily scanning the horizon, falling on a massive building that seemed cut from the rock itself. It was tan, like the sands, sporting a domed roof that was a stark contrast to the jagged rocks surrounding it. And judging from the lights you could see from within, it was occupied. You found yourself trudging in its direction, despite your reservations.
You would die out here, injured and alone, and finding shelter was your best option.
You only hoped it wouldn’t cost your life, but at this point, you had nothing to lose.
-
The building towered above you like a waiting beast, maw-like gate slowly opening wide with a grinding roar.
You felt every bit like a mouse entering a trap, a deep fear setting in your chest when two armed Gamorrean guards approached, eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. You doubted they saw you as much of a threat - your weary frame and bloodstained clothes surely made quick work of that assumption. As you suspected, they merely grunted, gesturing for you to follow.
I’m doomed, you thought, as you stepped further into the dark cavernous maw beyond.
The sand at your feet was cool, and judging by the sheer size and craftsmanship of the hewn stone around you, this wasn’t a mere home. It was a fortress.
Perhaps the mouse had jumped right into the loth cat’s stomach.
The halls were long and narrow, but surprisingly well lit. You didn’t see any signs of filth or decay, which was astounding for a place in such a seemingly seedy area, but you knew first impressions weren’t everything. Anxiety twisted deep in your gut when you heard a bark of raucous laughter somewhere ahead, every alarm ringing in your frazzled mind. The Gamorreans walked on, framing you between them, a silent reminder that you were trapped. But you’d come here willingly, perhaps foolishly, seeking shelter - and you didn’t have anyone to blame for whatever would happen to you then yourself.
Even if you’d never intended to land on this maker-forsaken planet.
Despite that fact, you felt fear creep down your throat when you reached a set of downward sloping stairs, a multitude of voices echoing from within the chamber.
Your knees locked up, but the Gamorrean behind you gave your shoulder a nudge with a grunt. Pain flared to life, and you winced, nearly tripping down the steps as you entered the room, heart hammering so loudly in your ears you thought it would burst.
Your eyes swept the room, which was filled with all manner of ilk, and your heart sank even further upon realizing very, very quickly, that many, if not all, were likely bounty hunters. Your gaze was pulled to the center of the room as if gravity itself demanded your attention, and your world ground to a screeching halt. Only one thought managed to escape your panicked mind before terror and recognition seized your heart.
You should have let yourself bleed out in the desert.
Maker, I am such an idiot.
An idiot who was about to die. A fool who had gone out on a limb, one last ditch effort, to survive. Instead of being rewarded for your final act of desperation, fate had decided to give you the most cruel, ironic end possible.
Because sitting before you, impossibly broad frame sprawled on a carved throne like the very Galaxy was his footstool, was none other than the notorious king of the very beasts you’d been trying to outrun.
Boba Fett.
His dark green helmet tilted down at you, the angle harsh and predatory, torchlight flaring like shattered glass on his visor as a terror unlike anything you’d felt before settled its way into the pit of your stomach.
You were a dead woman walking.
There would be no escape. The Gamorrean guards stood behind you, narrow eyes fixed on your every move. A dark clad woman with a deadly rifle leaned against the dais, gaze sharper than a vibroblade boring into you. Everyone fell silent, still, as if made of stone. Not stone, you realized, simply pieces in a larger clockwork puzzle - all here to serve him. You were trapped, hopeless in Fett’s clutches, merely waiting for the hunter to strike.
A hunter who should have been dead.
He leaned forward, muscles rippling even under all that armor and cloth - unseen gaze undeniably focused on you. Maker, he was more frightening then any of the stories could ever capture - a warrior in every right, someone who didn’t have to boast of his power or even show it.
He simply was.
A deep voice spoke, carrying a dialect that was foreign to you, one you instantly thought was both alluring and deadly, even as you also noted it was coming from the very person staring you down.
“What,” the tone was all thunder and calculated coolness as he flicked a small projector to life on his gauntleted wrist, displaying a listing with your face for all to see. “Do we have here?”
Stars above, you were doomed.
Chills ran down your spine. Your lips parted, but no words came, as if your own mind conspired against you. Fear was all too familiar a paralysis, doom settling deep in your bones. What could you say to him? What even was the point? You knew the stories. Tales larger than life spread across the Galaxy of this man, this legend now in the flesh before you. Begging would be pointless. Hoping for mercy, even less so.
But kriff, you hadn’t survived this long to simply give up, either.
The Gamorreans grunted behind you, and a meaty hand shoved your wounded shoulder, knocking you to your knees. You yelped in pain, blood trickling down your back in rivulets, the cool tile beneath you the only thing grounding you from your agony. You looked back up, sweat beating your forehead, finding Fett’s unseen gaze tilted down, watching you in silence. Waiting. Expecting.
You were, after all, in his court.
A heavy silence had fallen, as every hunter watched your exchange with bated breath. Surely they wondered if Fett would claim your bounty, or if you were up for grabs. Terror settled deep in your chest, and you winced, pain radiating from your wounded shoulder. Fett suddenly shifted forward, and your words bubbled from chapped lips, as if sensing your impending doom.
“I…I seek sanctuary, my…” you blinked in confusion, wondering what honorific would work best, “my lord. I’m aware I have a bounty. I…”
Your world spun, everything fading to a muted blur. You could barely keep your focus on the armored figure looming above you. Shit, you’d lost too much blood. You tried to keep your head high, your quivering body fighting against your every move. If Fett didn’t kill you, you’d surely die first. Either way, you were doomed to die alone, among strangers, in the den of the very wolves you’d sought to escape.
His helmet tilted to the side in a gesture you could almost interpret as curiosity, remaining silent. Leaving you to desperately amble on.
You swallowed hard, clenching your hands to fists. You saw your reflection in his black visor; a pathetic image of a broken, bleeding, scared woman. A shell of the fierce warrior you once were.
“I crashed in the desert,” you tried to continue, you really did, even as your body grew oddly warm, exhaustion and blood loss taking their toll. “I was…betrayed. I didn’t…”
Your knees shook, fresh blood dripping freely. Several of the hunters amongst the crowd shifted closer to you, their eyes sharp, hungry. Kriff, they were like sharks, drawn to the blood you spilled. Interestingly, Fett’s helmet flicked their way, as if in a silent warning, and they quickly backed off without a single complaint.
You didn’t have the time to process the action.
Your vision flickered, as if a light switch had cut off and on, and the last thing you saw was a swirl of green and red hovering over you before darkness mercifully took over, and you collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
-
“Want me to put her in a cell, boss?” Fennec’s voice was low, calm, in Boba’s ear. “She’s garnering too much attention.”
Boba deigned a response, too focused on the unconscious woman before him, your bedraggled state, and the blood staining his floor. You were near death, that he could determine, but that wasn’t the only thing that drew his intrigue.
Strung around your neck, just peeking out from under your shirt, was a mandalorian necklace. And not just any necklace, but the very mythosaur sigil he bore. He generally didn’t give a damn about Mandalorians. They were a stubborn lot, fiercely independent. On that, he supposed they were similar, and that was exactly why they didn’t get along. That was, until Din. Their interactions had brought back memories of his father, of a past he’d long been haunted by. Perhaps, in some ironic twist of fate, that past was still revealing itself in new, unexpected ways.
You’d come here for sanctuary, knowing you had a bounty, which clearly indicated you hadn’t known where you were, or that you’d stumble upon him. Judging by your shocked expression, you’d clearly recognized him, but he doubted you’d known he was alive.
There were enough reasons to ask questions, at least, before final judgement.
“No, Fennec.” Boba kept his voice low, for her alone to hear. “Take her to the medical droid. Give her a room, keep it locked and guarded.”
“Hmm. Almost hospitable.” Fennec’s angular brow lifted, but she didn’t press further. “To what end?”
Boba found himself looking back down at you, an emotion he could almost interpret as concern flaring in his chest. Something about your broken, bloodied form twisted in his stomach like a knife, and he sighed, clenching his gloved hands to fists.
“I have some questions first.”
-
“Jaceyn!”
The alarms blared like sirens in your ears as your ship spiraled out of control. Lights swirling, screams echoing, panic overriding common sense as the escape pods ejected, the crew leaving you to your doom. Your footsteps pounded down the hall, sweat beading, dripping into your eyes, desperation flooding your chest.
Your ship was crashing, your armor was missing, and your love…
“Jaceyn! Wait!” Your plea flung into empty space like the shrapnel that had torn into your shoulder. Tears blurred your vision as you bolted after him, heart pounding desperately in your chest. “Please…”
A fist connected to your chest, throwing you backward onto the doomed craft. Pain burned through your body like fire as you watched the final pod eject, leaving you to crash to your death.
The damn coward’s back was turned.
The ship spiraled down, down, and down, reducing your world to an agonized blur of pain and confusion, fading until there was nothing left but sand and blood.
Your eyes snapped open, heart pounding like a war drum, sweat drenching your body. You gripped the sheets with panicked gasps, fingers quivering, limbs shaking. Your breaths were ragged, as if from knife-torn lungs.
You were swathed in darkness, and swore you could still taste blood on the back of your throat. Your confusion subsided enough for you to register that you weren’t in the wreckage, but rather, a large bed.
What the…
Panic grew to sheer terror, and even with all your training, you felt your limbs locking up. Where the kriff were you? You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves. You hadn’t lived this long by being stupid, nor would you start to engage in foolishness now. Your gaze swept the room, starting at the far corner, analyzing every detail, cataloguing every potential threat.
You certainly found one when your eyes fell on the same armored figure you’d seen before you’d passed out, that T-visored helm fixed on you with deadly precision.
So, you were still the infamous Boba Fett’s prey. A curse flew from your lips before you could stop yourself, finding yourself wishing you’d bled out in the sands.
“I’ve been called worse.” Fett’s voice was deep, dry, and void of emotion.
Your lips snapped shut, and you instantly went to shift out of the bed and away from him - as far as you possibly could. Your body lurched in pain at the movement, a dull agony cording through your veins. Kriff…you were too wounded to move much, especially to be able to run.
You were hopelessly trapped in his clutches.
“What…” you blinked, swallowing hard as you dared to glare back at his visor. “Did you do to me?”
“You were dying.” His tone was matter of factual, curt. “Needed bacta.”
Now you were even more confused. He was helping you? Surely it was to receive a higher sum of credits for your bounty. You couldn’t fathom a different reason.
“I get it. You wanna fetch a higher sum for me.” You shot him a blank glare despite the fear thrumming in your heart like a living thing. “Sorry I arrived as damaged goods.”
Fett fell silent, and you couldn’t tell for the life of you if he was angry or simply bored. When he finally spoke again, there was little change in his tone, other than what you could only guess was curiosity.
“The mandalorian necklace.” His helmet tilted slightly downward, at your neck. “Where’d you get it?”
You glanced down at your chest, eyes falling on the necklace that was bared freely for him to see. Another curse rushed from your lips. Fett’s helmet tilted to the right. If you were to reveal your true identity to him, a bounty hunter…you were as good as dead. The last remaining vestiges of the Empire would pay handsomely for your blood.
It was as if Fett could read your mind.
“I’ve no interest in turning you in.” He leaned forward, a warning thrumming in his deep tone. “Unless you give me one. Understand?”
You felt yourself nodding, as if your body managed what your brain could not. Judging by the tilt of his helmet, Fett seemed pleased.
“Now.” He leaned back in the chair, arms draped over the armrests, a finger casually tapping the polished metal. “Who are you?”
“I…” you swallowed your fear, pushing it back, already theorizing ways you could escape if he didn’t stick to his word. “I’m a mandalorian. My clan was killed by Moff Gideon. I escaped, but was betrayed…so forgive me if I seem doubtful, but I know your kind. And I know how many credits I’m worth.”
Fett remained silent, his helmet tilting slightly to the left in a gesture that could have nearly been interpreted as curiosity. So, you continued.
“I know I’m wounded, but,” your eyes narrowed at the black, impassive t-visor staring you down, “I won’t go down without a fight.”
“That, I believe, little one,” Fett finally spoke, his voice softer than you’d expected. He slowly stood, as to not alarm you, hands hanging loose at his sides. “You need rest. Stay here, where it’s safe. I’ll ensure it.”
He turned to leave, armor glinting faintly under the light of the moons.
“Why help me?” You watched him pause, heartbeat fluttering, worry that he’d change his mind coursing through your veins.
No one could be trusted.
“My father was mandalorian.” His tone was rougher, more ragged, yet constrained. “I would not wish to see you meet his fate.”
He left without another word, the door shutting behind him, leaving you in confused silence.
Exhausted from your struggles, you collapsed on the bed despite yourself, wondering that dreadful, or nebulous, fate the Galaxy held for you next.