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sinfulsalutations · 7 months

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𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕗𝕚𝕧𝕖 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕧𝕚𝕣𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕓𝕠𝕓𝕒 𝕗𝕖𝕥𝕥

⋆ ★ ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 2023 ʟɪɴᴇᴜᴘ

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ʙᴏʙᴀ ꜰᴇᴛᴛ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ʙᴏʙᴀ, ᴠᴀɢɪɴᴀʟ ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴘᴇɴɪꜱ ɪɴ ᴠᴀɢɪɴᴀ ꜱᴇx, ʟᴏꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪʀɢɪɴɪᴛʏ

⋆ ★ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢɪʀʟɪᴇ ᴛᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴍᴜꜱᴄʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴅᴇꜰɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ ᴘʀᴇᴏᴄᴄᴜᴘɪᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ꜰᴇʟᴛ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʀᴜꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ʜᴏᴘᴇꜰᴜʟʟʏ ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴇᴇᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀʏ. ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴʏ ʙᴏʙᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʙᴇ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ :)

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

You’ve never felt this small before.

One of the most feared men in the galaxy is between your legs, holding you so softly and carefully as if you might shatter at any moment. Such a tactile man, hardened from years of battle, now rightfully in your arms, rightfully claiming you, in such a manner nothing else could’ve been destined.

“Oh…” It’s just a simple sigh, a gentle commendation of his slow, concentrated strokes with his tongue. You want to say more, tell Boba how good it feels, how good he’s making you feel, but you’re rendered to a simple blubber and string of words that pathetically make up fractured sentences and pleasant, flimsy moans. He rumbles between your thighs, the vibrations sending a shiver down your legs and making your toes curl every so slightly. You dig a heel into his shoulder.

Boba pulls away from your sopping cunt, swiping his tongue over his lips to gather your lingering taste there, and gazes up. His stare is surprisingly unusually sweet. Unusually tender.

“How are you feeling, little one?” He asks you, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over your inner thighs, tantalizingly close to your outer lips. A hiss uncoils out of your tongue and your chest heaves with a heavy breath. Boba waits patiently.

“Really good, Boba.” You even make the gesture and effort to lean your body onto one hand instead of both, taking the free one to hold his cheek. The merciless bounty hunter melts in your hold; he turns his head to leave a firm kiss on your palm. Then your thumb. Then your index. He kisses each tip of your finger as you compose your next thoughts. “I feel really good.”

Something of a grin reaches his lips; it isn’t one typical of a regular man, but it’s a characteristically hardened expression that means all the more to you. It means he’s grateful, savoring each moment he has with you. Your heart swells and arousal pools.

He returns to the task beforehand; easy strokes of his tongue ease you back into the feeling before he trails a hand up, closer to your entrance where he hasn’t been before. As you feel the tip of the first knuckle undulate small, contained circles, you squeal quietly. Boba perks up.

“Do you want me to continue?”

It’s not a hard decision to make. You nod your head, adding a sweet ‘yes,’ voice just a little breather than before.

Boba’s hand glides over the top of your entrance, fingertips a phantom touch barely caressing your pussy, yet it’s enough to make you tremble. Then, he presses further. He makes his touch more purposeful.

Gathering dollops of wetness for a moment, rubbing the spend over one digit, before sliding it in slowly. Soothing yet nerve-wracking all the same.

But then, the finger is seated in you with little resistance. Little pain. You feel your warmth hug his appendage, keeping it firmly inside of you as you stretch just the slightest bit (yet more than you ever have), and sigh sweetly.

“Mm…” You hum, eyes fluttering close for a minute. The soft noise of praise you can’t distinguish and the featherlight peck on your inner thigh bring you back to the moment.

“Good job,” is all he says. Yet it’s all enough. You see in his gaze the fascination, the utter reverence in his stare that makes you want to curl up into yourself and scream into the sheets to never rise up again. But you keep your stare on him.

Boba lifts himself up, resting his knees between yours to spread you out further and join you on his expansive bed. As if you couldn’t relax any further, your shoulders practically sink into the mattress beneath you, and his eyes twinkle.

He must love this.

You’d hope so, at least.

“Hm, look at yourself, little one.” The praise sends you into another frenzy, breathing low in your stomach stagnated. “‘Getting stretched out nice and good. Taking my fingers like a good little princess.”

“Boba,” You sob quietly, feeling the digit sink deeper into you. Many times you’ve brought a release with your own fingers, but they’re nothing compared to his. Not as big, not as thick. He just manages to be gentle enough to leave you only slightly uncomfortable, yet the slow movement of his hand and wrist rocking back and forth, back and forth is already bringing you to the brink of orgasm.

Boba can feel it.

“How many fingers do you need, baby?”

You mouth something that he doesn’t seem to understand, instead deciding for you. His lips tickle the shell of your ear.

“Three?”

The only thing you can do is whine and rock your hips.

“Yeah, I think you do,” Boba answers his own question, pushing in a second finger with little resistance from your body and fucking you with his fingers steadily. “`Gonna need some stretching if you want me to deflower you.”

You just manage to stave off your orgasm until he gets a third finger in, leaving you positively soaked and stretched more than you’ve ever been before. Boba stays silent, breathing in his stomach while cradling the back of your head. His free hand tucks strands of hair behind your ear when you come down with soft sighs and hiccups. All the while, he talks; you’d never think he’d be talking in the bedroom as much as he does.

“Mm, you’re doing so well, little one.”

“Feeling okay? It’s okay if you can’t speak. Just nod, yes or no.”

“Nuh-uh. Just stay like that. Let me make this good for you.”

When you catch your breath, you see Boba’s already taken off the bottom part of his armor, leaving him just as bare as you. He meets you on the bed, pressing his knees on either side of your legs and resting your head on a plush pillow, bunching your hair to keep it out of your eyes. The simple considerate gesture has you reeling.

It’s still oddly blunt, nonetheless. Only the slimmest layer of sugary pleasantness coats his actions; you still see the hardened, rough, unrelenting man he is. But it’s in an entirely new light now. The roughness is all his way of handling you the way he wants, ensuring you’re satisfied and taken care of with no trace of unhappiness left in your body. In the determination, there is thoughtfulness.

Boba lines up the head of his cock at your entrance, forcing your chin to stop looking at where your bodies will meet and inevitably join and instead into his eyes.

“I’ll make you feel good, little one. I promise.” He seals the guarantee with a sweet kiss, holding your chin to angle your face properly.

When he pulls away, he pushes barely an inch forward and you gasp, suddenly strung tight by nerves.

He’s incredibly gentle. But he doesn’t go slow.

The thick girth of his cock stretches your pussy out, even more than his fingers, unrushed and carefully, despite how taut he keeps his stomach. As you observe his face, you begin to question if Boba is even breathing.

Despite his caution and gingerly stretch, there’s still a twinge of pain that rushes through you. It’s washed, practically doused and drenched by your own arousal, your own wetness, and the deep, low, perpetual throbbing in your lower stomach.

Boba presses his forehead to yours and you finally hear him let out a deep exhale.

“That’s it,” he praises with a groan when you involuntarily clench, finally processing the new sensations all throughout your body.

Suddenly, you’re whining and hiding your face in his shoulder when he pulls out slightly, the slick link of your bodies causing a slight difficulty to disconnect. As he presses back in, your words are pathetically gracious, pure reverence as you take only a fraction of all Boba has to give you. One day you’ll be able to take it all. This is just the beginning. But this is already so much. So much you might just cry.

It’s still incredibly difficult to process that he not only chose you, but let you choose him.

So you whine out,

“Thank you.”

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acatalystrising · 1 year

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I have finally finished chapter six of Moth to a Flame! This chapter was a blast to write, and I’m not done with the story yet, but I certainly do hope you enjoy this next installment! I was inspired by a certain fun scene in Mando season two for this one, but with a different context… This one is more intense, so please mind the trigger warnings. Happy reading!

TW: panic attack/triggers, mention of past abuse/injury, interaction with former abuser, mentions of past sexual abuse/gaslighting, cannon violence, side character death, blood, injury, angst and hurt comfort

Moth to a Flame Chapter Six

Darkness surrounded you like an ocean of ink, black and cold, searing into your ragged lungs like hellfire. Desperate for oxygen, you clawed toward the surface, finding not water, but sand cascading between your scrabbling fingers.

You burst to the surface, chest burning, eyes wide, as you found yourself in the Dune Sea, burning sands raging like an ocean, the dunes crashing toward you, backlit by the twin suns that watched impassively above as nature itself rushed to deliver your doom…

Your eyes snapped open, and the first thing you noticed was that you were cold. Far too cold for a desert planet like Tatooine.

You were lying prone on what you surmised to be a cot, and you didn’t have to look at your hands to know they were clasped in binders. Kriff. The feeling of the metal against your skin sent tremors of terror washing through you, heart pounding so loud you worried it would burst.

Not again. Please no. Not him. I gotta get out, gotta get free, I can’t die like this!

The panic was sudden and unyielding, exploding in your brain and numbing your extremities. You tried to breathe, but your throat felt clamped in a vice, threatening to reduce the world around you to a dizzying blur. You took heaving breaths, desperate to wrestle your fear under control, hoping the tools you’d learned over the years would pay off now. You couldn’t lose your head. You’d need logic to make it out of this alive.

You ran a hand down the back of your neck, fingertips hesitating at the shallow grooves you knew were your scars. Stars, you’d wanted to forget them. Ignore it all. Disappear into the Outer Rim and never look back. But it seemed your past had finally come back to haunt you. Literally.

The compact room you were held in was dark and indiscernible, but your eyes were keen enough to notice one important feature, one that sent horror flooding through your chest. Grey, lifeless, durasteel walls. And that only meant one thing…

“Well, well. It was about time you woke up.”

You knew that voice. Hated that you instinctually stiffened. Loathed the paralyzing fear that threaded down your spine and locked you in place. It was a voice you thought you’d never hear again. A monster, back from the dead.

That monster stepped out of the shadows, sharp blue eyes locking you in place, scarred lip twisted in a victorious smirk. But you felt the scorn beneath the facade.

“You’re probably wondering how I survived.” He folded his hands behind his back, hands that you remembered. Instruments of pain and pleasure. Maker, why couldn’t he have stayed dead? “Surely you’re at least curious.”

You opted to remain silent, refusing to play his game despite the panic that welled in your chest, threatening to burst. You were curious about his fate - especially after everything you’d done to stop him. How the hell had he emerged unscathed?

“The silent treatment won’t work.” He raised a thin brow, lips twisting in a knowing grin. “I remember a time when you’d have come to me for anything. How many times did I hold you? Comfort you? All for your to stab me in the back.”

“That’s enough, Sterling.” Your words snapped from your lips like daggers, eyes narrowing at the figure before you. “You don’t get you talk like that. You betrayed me. I did what I had to do.”

“That’s Admiral Sterling to you.” His eyes narrowed, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Is that what you tell yourself? Pathetic.”

You mustered the courage to narrow your eyes in challenge.

“Why am I here?” You crossed your arms with a shrug. “You could’ve just killed me to take your revenge.”

“Kill you? Oh goodness no, you’re underestimating me again, I’m afraid. I’m not going to kill you. You were difficult to find, I’ll give you that. It took me much longer than I’d hoped.” Sterling crossed his arms, tone darkening, brows lowering in a glare. “The Empire is scattered across the galaxy, in shambles. And you’re going to help me rebuild it.”

“Why the kriff would I do that?” You narrowed your eyes, hoping you masked the tremor of fear that slid down your spine. “I nearly gave my life to the rebellion. You think I’d do anything for your empire other than burn it to ash?”

Sterling’s eyes darkened, but his thin lips curved in an eerie smile.

“Oh my dear, I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.” He approached and you flinched as he rested a hand on your shoulder. “I’ve already taken so much from you. But, let’s see…you do have a lovely menagerie on that desolate rock. Friends, I’m sure, who you want to keep alive. Maybe you’ve pulled together a family of sorts? It’d be a shame to have them all reduced to dust.”

Oh. Oh no. Damn it.

No. This couldn’t be happening.

I’ve been a fool.

You clenched your bound fists until your knuckles ached, the horrid metal pressing uncomfortably against your skin.

“You’re a monster.” When you finally spoke, your words emitted as a hiss, full of venom and rage.

Sterling only smiled.

“Your rebel friends said the same thing when I turned on them, you know.” He shook his head with a sigh, pulling away from you. “A small price to pay for the good of the Empire. And unless you want to add more scars to your collection, you’d best do as I say. You’re a brilliant scientist, you know. You shouldn’t let all that raw talent go to waste.”

Kriff. You bit the inside of your cheek and tasted blood on your tongue. He had to know you’d never stop fighting him. But what the kriff could you do, bound and facing the threat of the deaths of everyone you loved? For now, you opted to go for the best course of action - to wait. Be patient. And figure a way out of this mess.

Because he was right about one thing - you did have talent. And you’d use every bit of it to escape.

“Fine.” You locked eyes with him, glaring daggers that you wish could burn into his skull. “Under one condition. Leave them alone.”

“That’s more like it.” Sterling’s smile grew into a vile, victorious grin. “Now there’s a good girl.”

“Don’t call me that.” Your snarl wasn’t hidden this time, eyes flashing with rage.

“Cooperate,” his grin vanished, replaced with a sneer, “and I’ll consider letting your friends live.”

He walked out of the room without another word, and as the doors whooshed shut, you dropped your head to your chest, unable to stop the sobs from erupting from your throat, echoing on the empty, foreboding walls.

You were alone, yet again. And this time, there were no rebel friends to save you. They were long dead, and you wagered you’d soon be following them.

“There it is, boss. Looks Imperial.”

Fennec shifted in the copilot’s seat to sling her rifle against her shoulder, lips twisted in a distasteful frown.

“What the hell would an Imp straggler want with your girl?”

Your girl.

Boba Fett blinked, gaze still locked on the small shuttle ahead, cruising in Tattoine’s orbit. He hated the panic that had taken residence in his chest, threatening to claw up this throat. This was precisely why he never had entertained the notion of a lover - not when everyone around him ultimately got hurt or killed…or worse. And yet here he was anyway, trying to stop the same thing from happening to the one person who had become the exception to his rule.

“Well? What’s the plan? At least the bastards were easy enough to track down.” Fennec’s voice jarred him from his thoughts, and he grunted, glancing at her over his shoulder, grateful for the helmet that masked his distraught expression. “Probably good to stay out of their sights for now. Are we sneaking in or-”

“I’m commandeering that vessel.” Boba’s voice was cold, nearly a growl. “If they don’t cooperate, they will regret it. We will find her.”

Fennec’s brows lifted, and she crossed her arms with a sigh. “Sure that’s a good idea? These Imps are flighty. The minute they’re under attack, they’ll jump to hyperspace.”

Boba watched the ship with narrowed eyes, clenching his gloved hands to fists.

“I’ve caught bigger prey. Besides, we have the advantage,” he punched in some coordinates and launched into hyperspace, already preparing the return sequence. “They don’t know we’re coming.”

“I didn’t want things to go this way, you know.”

You narrowed your eyes as Kali walked beside you, nervously wringing her hands. She shot a nearly apologetic glance at you before quickly looking away, eyes fixed straight ahead. When she spoke again, her voice was much softer.

“I tried to warn you. But I couldn’t just tell you that I…”

“That you’re a double agent?” Your tone was low like thunder, and you clenched your fists despite the cuffs, but quickly relaxed your hands when your skin tightened against the metal. A shiver ran down your spine. “Why bother. Seems everyone on this ship is.”

“I…started to have regrets. You were kind,” Kali blinked, chewing on the inside of her lip with a frown. “But…”

“Yeah, yeah, it was that “for the glory of the Empire” shit.” You heaved a sigh as one of the guards roughly shoved you forward, and shot the man a glare. “I’m already walking, idiot. Dank farrik, I’ve heard all this before.”

Maker, you hoped they bought your act. Yes, you were angry. But you were absolutely terrified. There was no way to get off this ship unless you found an escape pod, and you didn’t have any backup to rely on. Kali wouldn’t be of any help either. Her betrayal wasn’t the first, and not the most painful by a long shot.

You were forced around a corner and through two massive bay doors, and found Sterling standing by the viewport, arms crossed behind his back. He turned upon your entry, lips curving in a cunning smile.

“Ahh, so glad you could join us,” he gestured toward a table that had been set up in the center of the command room. “Please, have a seat.”

As if you had a choice.

You sat, eyeing the man warily as he approached, sitting across from you and neatly placing his hands on the table. You were quick to notice his skin was marred with burn scars, the tissue still raised and angry despite the time that had passed.

“Imp stragglers don’t have enough bacta, huh?” You raised a brow, inwardly grinning when you saw the fury light in his eyes. “That’s just ironic.”

He sighed, lifting his hands and inspecting them in the fluorescent lighting, brows raised in appraisal.

“When you rigged the ship to blow, I nearly didn’t resist. You were fierce - willing to go to any lengths to stop me. I respected that.” His gaze met yours, that anger still there, but also a sadness. “I barely escaped with my life. There was an access shaft I climbed through, and got on the last escape pod before it was too late. But I didn’t…escape unscathed.”

You frowned, leaning back in your seat, wincing when the metal of the chair brushed against the back of your neck. Anger welled in your chest, threatening to burst, and you clenched your fists under the table as much as the binders would allow.

Was he kriffing serious?

“You think I’ll feel pity for you after what you did? You pretended to be my friend. I thought you were one of us. I thought we were close.” You took a deep breath, hands shaking, nails biting into your palms. “When we were captured, you were the only thing I had. The only reason I kept fighting. You comforted me, held me. I thought…”

Stars, you didn’t want to admit it. To admit that once, he’d been everything to you. And during that time, you’d only hoped that…

“You thought what? That I loved you? Oh my dear, it was merely a means to an end. You are a brilliant scientist, I needed you. I still do.” Sterling’s voice was cold, detached, his icy gaze locked on you. “That was always your problem. You’re too trusting. It’ll get you killed someday. But I will admit…the times we spent together of the more…intimate sort…are ones I think of often.”

Oh, of all the vile, wretched things to say…

You tried to stand, a cry erupting from your throat, but the guard behind you forced you back into your chair, hand digging painfully into your shoulder. Heart pounding, you glared daggers at the man across from you, biting the inside of your cheek with a sneer.

“I’ll risk my life as many times as it takes to kill you!” You strained against the binders, hair falling in your eyes, while he merely watched you with a smirk. “I will never stop. And I will never, ever, work for you. The Empire can go to hell!”

Sterling only sighed, shaking his head. He pulled a pair of gloves from his coat pocket and slowly pulled them over his fingers, gaze dropping to his hands.

“You want to pretend to be a hero? To be important? Fine. I had imagined my last punishment would have taught you your lesson, but clearly I was wrong.” When he looked back up at you, any sense of familiarity was gone - replaced with the cold, cunning gaze of a deadly enemy. He slowly stood, eyes narrowing. “Considering the scarring you have, you most likely won’t survive this time. But I will warn you, it won’t be a quick death.”

No.

He wouldn’t.

Kriffing hell, of course he would.

You hated how quickly you stiffened, an old ache resurfacing on your neck, making your scars tingle. You tried your best to look calm, to hide the fear, but Sterling was too clever for that. He merely smiled.

“Because of our past, I’ll give you one last chance. Cooperate, or-“

Alarms blared so loud you winced, and Sterling flinched as something slammed against the ship’s hull, throwing the man off balance and back into his chair.

“Sir, we’re under attack!”

You watched, wide eyed, as the personnel around you began to panic, running to their stations. The ship swerved, banking to the right, providing you a glimpse of Tattoine’s red surface in the distance. Ahh, so you hadn’t fully left yet. For some reason, that provided a comfort.

Sterling stood, glancing at you suspiciously before walking further into the room, fists clenched tightly at his sides. “What are you waiting on? Fire!”

“We’re trying Sir, but the weapons are jammed! Nothing’s working,” one of the Imps frantically punched at the buttons, face paling. “Kriff. It’s an ion cannon, Sir. Everything’s down.”

You couldn’t stop the small flare of hope from igniting in your chest.

You peered out of the viewport, but saw nothing. Who was attacking? Were they pirates? Or had they come to save you? A small part of you allowed yourself to entertain, for a moment, that it could be a certain ex bounty hunter, but that would be too good to be true. Surely he wouldn’t worry himself with your fate. You were easily replaceable.

But still…

Another blast rocked the ship, sending blue electric currents coursing through the controls. Cries filled the air as another barrage nearly tipped the craft, and smoke flooded the air, filtering out the flickering lights.

“Whoever they are, they’re not getting what they came for.” Sterling turned, locking eyes with you. “Jump to hyperspace.”

“We can’t Sir,” the man sounded nearly sarcastic despite his fear. “It’s an ion cannon. We’re stuck.”

Sterling whipped out his blaster and shot the man between the eyes with a growl, face reddening as the others froze, eyes on their admiral, fear palpable in the smoky air.

“Well? Who’s next?” Sterling’s voice rang over the blaring alarms, rising higher in pitch. “Shoot any pirate that sets foot on this ship. That’s an order. And you…”

He spun on his heels to face you, nostrils flared, fury burning in his eyes.

“You‘re not going anywhere.”

You dared to stand despite the convulsing ship around you. Dared to lock eyes with your enemy as he approached. Dared to smile in his sneering face, inches from yours, as a familiar ship crested the viewport, one that could strike terror into every heart aboard besides yourself - as well as the equally familiar voice rasping over the intercom, gruff, commanding, rolling like the thunder of an oncoming storm.

“Lower your shields. Disengage your transponders. Prepare for boarding.”

“Sure you didn’t go overboard?”

Fennec’s helmet tilted toward Boba as she ducked under a loose hanging wire, sparks flaring into the smoky air. A stormtrooper rushed around the corner and she quickly took aim, dropping him before he could alert their position.

As if that really mattered at this point.

“Ship’s barely hanging by a thread.”

“They took her.” Boba was already moving, striding down the hall where he knew the control center would be located. “Their mistake.”

Fennec shot him another glance before following behind, rifle held at the ready, as they turned the corner and came across the massive doors. They were sealed shut. Boba groaned, anger flaring in his chest. He took a breath, clenched his hands into fists, and for once in his life, wished he had the powers of a kriffing Jedi so he could rend the doors asunder to get to the woman he…

That he…

Damn it all.

He’d grown quite fond of his little veterinarian. Loved making you smile, and relished in the fact that he could so easily turn you into a flustered mess. But he felt stronger for you then mere affection, didn’t he? Maker above, this was more than a crush.

Boba Fett, of all people, had fallen in love.

“I got it,” Fennec was already at the control panel, prying it open with her vibroblade. He blinked, grateful for the helmet to mask his contemplative expression. “Be ready. I’m sure they’ll be armed to greet us.”

Boba merely nodded, lifting his weapon with a roll of his shoulders.

“Affirmative.”

The doors swung open, and a volley of blaster fire immediately burst forth, spraying the walls with smoking scorch marks. Fennec ducked around the doorframe, picking the Imps off one by one, but Boba had a different approach in mind. One that had worked countless times during his bounty hunting days. It worked then, and it would work now. Time was of the essence.

The plasma bolts continued to cut through the hazy air, albeit a few less then before, but Boba didn’t hesitate.

He simply walked through the door.

The bolts bounced harmlessly off his beskar, and he took little time dispatching those closest to him with his rifle and gaffi stick. But as he carved a path through the smoke, the sight before him made him stop in his tracks.

“That’s far enough, bounty hunter.” A tall, thin Imperial man stood several paces ahead, pristine uniform standing out amidst the haze.

But that wasn’t what held his attention.

You were on your knees, trembling - a thick metal collar clamped tightly around your neck.

Even from the distance, he saw the probe droid hovering behind you with its hellish needles, one already glistening with your blood. This kind of torture…it was vile, even for the Empire’s standards. And they were using it on you.

You, who’d only ever cared for other living things. Who had chosen to trust him, befriend him, even love him…

And these monsters were tormenting you.

“You know what this is, of course. Take one more step forward and she’s dead. Say…did you ever see these in use during your contracts for the Empire?” The Imperial glanced between Boba and you with a smirk, his words twisting like knives in Boba’s gut as your eyes flicked toward him in question. “Oh? He hasn’t told you? He served the Empire back in the day. In fact, he probably would have turned you in if I hadn’t set you up myself.”

Oh, Boba hated this man.

Fear flared in his chest when you glanced at him, lips parting to speak, but both he and the Imperial bastard were entirely confused when you simply…laughed.

“Oh Sterling, you’re such an idiot.” You shook your head as much as you could, rivulets of blood running down your neck and dripping over your collarbones, finally landing on the floor. “I already knew he did. Everyone on Tatooine knows who Boba Fett is. Unlike you, some people change. Someone once told me fate steps in the rescue the wretched. But it won’t for you.”

Despite the situation, warmth flared in Boba’s chest, and he tightened his grip on his rifle. You remembered. And he wasn’t about to let this fool get away with his abuse. He wagered this was the same one responsible for your other scars…

The man called Sterling glared at you, gloved hands clenched to fists. His fatal mistake was obvious - looking away from the true threat. “I don’t think so. And I-“

Boba lunged faster than the man could blink, ripping his blaster away with his gaffi stick and throwing him to the ground, pinning him underneath his weight with a growl.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Unhand me!” Sterling flailed pathetically beneath him, eyes wide with fear. “Release me, that’s an order!”

But Boba saw the raw fear shining in his eyes. A fear he knew all too well. The same fear he’d seen in the eyes of countless others before this poor fool - a legacy and death and bloodshed he’d thought he’d left behind. But he remembered the scars on your neck, and tightened his grip on the man with an unseen snarl.

The man was terrified. He knew who he was dealing with, there was no doubt about it.

Good.

“Aren’t you listening bounty hunter scum? I said-“

“I am the Daimyo of Tatooine. You’ve taken someone precious to me.” Boba raised his blaster to the man’s temple. “You will never harm her again.”

“No wait, I-“

He fired the weapon with no hesitation, and the Imperial fell limp, smoke curling from the wound and wafting from the barrel of his blaster. The remaining personnel fled the room, presumably for the escape pods, but he didn’t bother to shoot them down. Silence fell, sudden and final. Boba suddenly felt old, much older than his years suggested, as he forced himself to turn and meet your gaze. Surely you’d be afraid of him, having seen him as the killer he always knew he was.

But instead, he only saw relief shining in your bloodshot eyes.

“You came for me,” a tear rolled down your cheek, and his heart nearly broke in two at the softness of your voice, the fire long gone. “I didn’t know…didn’t think…”

“Easy, my little one,” he knelt beside you, quickly working to remove the collar from your neck. “Breathe. I’m here. You’re safe.”

As soon as the collar was removed, you collapsed into his arms, curling against his chest in silence. He blinked, so taken aback by the gesture that it took him a moment to gather you in his arms, holding you as tightly as he dared, careful to avoid the new wounds marring your neck. And yet you kept your gaze locked with his, gratitude shining in your eyes.

You were the first person, he wagered, that looked at him in relief instead of fear when he walked into a room.

You’d probably be one of the only who ever did.

But right now, that didn’t matter. There would be time to handle the aftermath - time to talk, to process, to heal. Right now, he needed to get you to safety, and to medical attention.

He held you securely against him as he stood, keeping you close, nodding to Fennec who was already covering him for their exit. The ship could burn for all be he cared. You were safe, and that was all that mattered.

“Rest, sweet girl.” He pressed his helmet against your forehead, voice soft, nearly a whisper. “Let’s go home.”

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