kill-the-feels - Tumblr blog

kill-the-feels · 2 years ago

Text

the most dangerous thing is to love ~ ch. V

a/n: welcome back to another installment of Boba and Reader fighting for their lives! enjoy! (previous part) (masterlist)

warnings: language, slight peril, brief drug mention (not used), injury mention

word count: ~3.4k

Days pass, mindless and spent in a vague routine. Wake up, explore around, head back to the cave before it gets too dark. After a particularly grueling day of walking, you make it back to the cave and simply pass out, too tied to even choke down half a ration bar.

In the night, the worst storm you’ve ever heard slams against the cave.

For the first time, you’re dead asleep, finally tired enough to simply succumb to the exhaustion, hoping to sleep the night through.

That changes when the first flicker of lightning brightens the cave like a sunrise. Your eyes open slowly, only to slam shut at the otherworldly crash of thunder right above you. You’re frozen on your back, listening to the way the waves pound against the rocks.

It’s not until another crash sends a wash of spray over you that you spring up and watch in horror through the flashes of lightning as some of the meager supplies you have are sucked away, out of the mouth of the cave and towards the lip of the cliff.

The cliff that is currently being pounded by massive waves that are normally way down below the edge.

“Fett-” your cry is choked out by the howling wind and pounding rain, which looks like it’s running sideways outside the cave. Another pack washes past you and you snatch at it, pulling yourself to your feet. Maker, you hope the medkit is in there, can't remember if you took the time to move it after Fett tended to your back.

The saltwater stings your shoulder, jolting you into focus. The fire’s long been extinguished; no telling how long it’s been out. Your mind races, trying to remember the layout of the cave, catching snatches of it in between the rapid lightning.

The waves are surging around your calves now, eerily reminiscent of the ship going down. You tamp down your fear. You're not trapped. You can get out, swim if you must. There's no cage preventing you this time.

You slog towards the back of your cave, not liking the idea of leaving the cave, even if it might be the logical option. A streak of lightning cuts through the air, landing so close outside it makes your skin sizzle. You're thrown to your knees right as a wave smacks you in the face.

“For once in your fucking life can you not trip into things?” Fett, with his helmet on. You come up coughing and spluttering. He drags you back, one hand holding another pack, the other your injured shoulder.

You don’t intend to shove him off, but the pain is sudden and sharp, and instinct has you tugging away from him as a sudden rush of tears fill your eyes.

You trip over a rock under the water, going down hard. The breath is knocked out of you, and you feel the tug of the water, starting to haul you out of the cave and towards the lip of the cliff with the rest of the water. Frantically, you try to rotate yourself to fight back against the current, but it's like trying to escape the cage all over again; you're no match for the force of nature. Your lungs burn, and the rushing water sounds like static in your ears. *** In hindsight, the spike of anxiety Boba feels in his chest is very easy to mistake for irritation. One minute, he’s holding onto you, the next you’re falling back into the water and taking his legs out from under him, ensuring the both of you are tugged out to sea.

Water rushes up under his helmet, threatening to drag it off him and filling his mouth and nose. He gags at the taste of saltwater, forcing his body upwards, using the current to force his legs down, so he can get his feet under him and catch his balance. He moves on instinct, ancient swimming lessons drilled into his head. Don't fight it, work with it, he reminds himself. The water drains out, letting him breathe, even as he coughs and gasps.

His helmet is automatically set to night vision, but he increases the heat filter even more, looking for you in the swirling waves. It's chaos, and the flashes of lightening keep blinding him, mixing with the white of the waves.

There.

Boba jams a knee down hard, wedging it between two rocks and grunting at the bruise he’s sure is already forming. It stops his progress and puts him in your path. He’s got one shot at this.

You slide past him and he shoots out a hand, unwilling to let go of his pack with the other. It's got food, the canteen, and the medkit, all of which neither of you can live without. He finds a fistful of hair and yanks, hauling your body up out of the water.

You come up coughing and swinging, your fight instincts on full display. He tugs you towards him, blocking your wild and ineffective punch with his gauntlet.

There’s a ledge at the very back of the cave, just large enough for the two of you to stand on and get your bearings. He works his way backwards, pushing against the current, grateful for his helmet blocking out the salt spray now that he's upright.

It takes nearly all his strength to haul the both of you up, but by the time he does, you’ve calmed yourself down, standing silently and shivering in the dark. Likely, you can’t even see much further in front of your face, but he can see you.

You look haggard, arms wrapped around yourself as you gasp for breath, each inhale catching slightly and ending on a cough. Boba lets his head rest gently against the back of the cave, monitoring the water level. The cave is flooded, but it doesn’t look like it’s rising. Once more, it looks like you’ll just have to wait. *** You’re miserable. Every part of you hurts, and it’s freezing in the dark cave with the wind howling through, whistling over the rocks.

Every time you relax, your side presses against Fett, whose frustration you can feel radiating off him in waves. There’s a throbbing headache too, along the line of your scalp where Fett pulled you up by your hair, aggravating your old head wound. A clap of thunder shakes the very rocks of the cave and you wince.

“What if it comes down on top of us?” you ask, unable to muster the energy to hide your fear.

“Then what a fucking way to go,” Fett says. You give up trying not to touch him, leaning back against the wall and letting your side press into his.

“I’m serious.” Lightning lights up the cave, punctuating your point. Fett waits for the thunder to pass before he replies.

“So am I. We’re not going out there in that. The water isn’t rising, so we wait.” Your hands clench in fists. Maybe he has a point. The cave collapses on you, you don’t have to put up with his shit anymore.

“How’s your shoulder?” You almost miss his soft words amidst the cacophony of the rain.

“What?” He turns his helmet towards you.

“Your shoulder. Did the salt water aggravate the wound too much?” The laugh you let out sounds a little too desperate for your liking.

“Don’t worry about it.” He’s silent, the only sound the quiet rasp of his breath through the helmet’s modulator as the two of you stand and listen to the rain.

A bit of rock slips out from under your foot and you readjust your stance, gritting your teeth when you press closer to Fett’s side.

It doesn’t solve the issue, though. The rock crumbles more, then falls away completely. For one heart-stopping moment, you’re suspended above the water in the cave, waiting to slide down into the dark waves.

Fett’s arms wrap around you, pulling you back against his chest. You freeze. There’s no where else to go; the ledge has all but crumbled away. Still, you try to put some space between the two of you, not liking that you're basically in his arms.

“Stop struggling.” He tightens his grip, widening his stance just slightly, giving you space to put your feet on the inside of his. Gradually, his grip loosens, then shifts, so one hand is splayed over your stomach, the other gently holding your uninjured shoulder.

Your mind whirls, the discomfort growing until you have to say something to ease the tension.

“I didn’t peg you for someone who likes cuddles,” you say. He makes a scoffing sound that could almost be a laugh.

“Yeah? I didn’t think you would enjoy it,” he fires back. Your cheeks are hot in the dark, but maybe he won’t notice.

“Who says I enjoy it?” you ask, and the hand on your shoulder shifts, pressing over your heart.

“Heart’s beating awfully fast for someone who claims not to enjoy it.” He’s so casually smug about the whole thing; you hate it.

There’s another flash of lighting and crack of thunder, and you feel it.

Fett flinches. He readjusts his hands again, moving them to your hips instead of wrapping his arms around you, but it’s too late.

“You’re the one that’s shaking,” you accuse and he huffs.

“I told you. I fucking hate the rain.” Yes, he did mention that, but never really elaborated. Another flicker, and Fett tightens his grip, likely not even realizing it. From this angle, you can hear the way his breath harshens, even catches a little with the thunder.

There’s something more there, you realize, than just a general dislike. For you, rain is just inconvenient. It’s annoying, the getting soaking wet and never quite getting dry before the next storm arrives. But for Fett, there’s something personal.

“Maybe we should look for somewhere else to make camp after this storm fades. Away from the cliff’s edge.” Doing this every time the rain decides to pick up does not sound fun.

“To where? It’s not like it’ll stop the rain.” He’s grumpy right now. More so than usual.

“Somewhere that’s not in danger of washing us back out to sea.” He mutters something that you can’t hear, and you choose to ignore it with a roll of your eyes.

“Why are you so rigid?” he says after another few minutes of crashing thunder and awkward silence.

“I’m not rigid.” That is simply not true. You don’t think you’ve ever stood up straighter than you are right now. Nobles who go to classes for their posture have nothing on you.

“You’re as stiff as a board. Keep it up and your legs will give out, and I’m not catching you a third time.” You grind your teeth together. He’s one to talk, feeling like a solid wall behind you every time the thunder cracks.

But, it does have the unexpected benefit of keeping you warm. With another body pressed against yours, even with the armor, the forced proximity is keeping you warmer than standing on your own.

After Fett actually makes a noise after the thunder — not a whimper, not a groan, but somewhere in between — you have to do something before things just get downright weird.

“What’s the weirdest food you’ve ever had?” Maybe talking about food when the only things you’ve had to eat recently are shitty ration bars is a poor choice. It’ll only make you hungrier, but realistically, what do you have in common with the bounty hunter who’s only tentatively agreed not to sell your soul?

“Excuse me?”

“Personally, I think the weirdest thing I’ve had was a death-stick infused piece of toast. Can’t recommend that one. I was pretty sure I was going to die for about three days.” A rumble of thunder vibrates the walls, and then you hear it.

Fett laughs.

“Death sticks themselves aren’t too bad. Weirdly fruity. Maybe that’s why they’re so addicting.” Of course he’s tried death sticks. Why wouldn’t he have?

“But was that the weirdest thing you’ve tried?” He shakes his head, and it moves his chest against your back in a strangely pleasant way.

“Nah, that one goes to something called the bacta blast.” The laugh you let out comes out more like a gasp.

“A what?”

“A bacta blast. Some health thing that was supposed to provide benefits. It did not.” You can hear the smirk through his helmet.

“And what did it do instead?” Maker, it’s like pulling teeth to get anything out of him.

“Let’s just say it’s a good thing the ’fresher was working.” You make a face.

“Disgusting.” Maybe you shouldn't have pushed so hard.

“You asked. If you didn’t want to hear details, you should have kept your…” He trails off, one of his hands falling away to rest on his blaster at his side.

“Fett?” His answer is to clap his other hand over your mouth.

“Quiet,” he murmurs. “I thought I saw someone.” Well. That’s a chilling sentence, given the end-of-times rain outside, and the fact that the two of you have seen no one in your time here.

“Hmph?” You can’t actually ask him to elaborate, given his hand on your mouth.

You squint out of the mouth of the cave, searching for what he might have seen in the brief flashes of light. But there’s nothing out there, and even as you try to convince yourself that it was a trick of the light, you can’t quite shake the way your skin crawls.

Like there’s another pair of eyes on you, watching.

And if they wanted to do something to you?

When better than in the middle of the dark, in the pouring rain? Fett could help a little, but something tells you if whoever or whatever it is wanted you dead, it would happen.

The water slaps ominously at your ledge, inky black, and you shiver.

Just what secrets is this island hiding? *** The first time he sees the blip of red in his helmet, he ignores it. There are a few other things on Boba’s mind; namely, the way your back is snuggly pressed against his chest, or the way his mind feels like it’s in a fog because of the storm.

He isn’t freaking out, per se, but he definitely isn’t calm. And then you go and ask him about fucking food, which works, right up until he definitely sees the figure in the distance.

They’re just standing there, outside the entrance to the cave, seemingly unmoved by the relentless waves. Boba wracks his brain for all the species he knows, searching for what could possibly be so unmoved by the waves or pounding storm.

You shift in his arms, reminding him he still has his hand wrapped over your mouth. His fingers tighten on his blaster, mind already calculating how likely he is to make a shot at this distance.

Unlikely, especially with the way the lightning whites out his helmet every few seconds. And he’s still not sure there’s actually someone there. With the way the whole world seems to move around them, without actually affecting them, it makes him think he’s imagining things.

You slump against Boba, momentarily distracting him, and he loosens his grip on your mouth.

“I’m so tired I could fall asleep standing up,” you mutter. Boba says nothing. The figure has disappeared, there in one flash of lightning, gone the next.

"They're gone," he whispers, but the tension doesn't leave his shoulders. You lean slightly forward, and he tightens his grip in warning.

"Were they even really there?" you ask, and he's hard-pressed to answer that, letting it lapse back into uneasy silence.

The whole thing reminds him of that weird clearing you stumbled into, where he found his helmet. He didn’t quite believe you were telling the truth, not until this exact moment, really.

Something is off with this island, and the sooner the two of you get off, the better.

Which reminds him.

His emergency comm still isn’t working, the flashing red taunting him at this point. Even if there’s no one to receive his message, he should still be able to transmit something out. The only reason he wouldn’t be would be is if something were jamming the communications.

Boba does not like that thought.

The evidence is all there, and yet, it’s easier to pretend there’s nothing. That it’s just the island starting to mess with your minds.

And the damn rain isn’t helping things.

Your head falls back against his shoulder, nose brushing the side of his helmet and he stiffens. You keep doing these things, like you’re expecting him to comfort you or something.

But in the dark, he can see your eyes are closed, and a few moments later, he feels the way you go limp.

You really did fall asleep standing there in front of him.

Fuck. *** “Hope you enjoyed your beauty rest, darling.” The objectively gentle words are paired with a harsh tone and jab to the ribs to offset them, lest you start to think Fett cares.

You’ve been awake for the better part of an hour now, but you’ve been pretending to be asleep purely out of spite. If you’re not awake, you don’t have to deal with the shit you’ve managed to find yourself in.

And it’s fun to watch — or rather, feel — Fett squirm.

“Good morning to you too, asshole.” It’s your signature exchange at this point. The sun is bright when you open your eyes, and if the water level wasn’t still obscenely high, you’d never know there was an apocalyptic storm the night before.

“What’s the plan for the day?” you ask Fett, trying to gauge where in the water is a safe place to land.

“Get to high ground, find a new camp spot. Food too, probably.” You’re not relishing wading through the water, but if it means you can finally sit down, you’ll put up with it.

Fett solves your dilemma by shoving you into the water. He’s quick to follow you, sloshing forward to the mouth of the cave, leaving you spluttering in indignation.

“Keep up,” he calls, holding the remaining pack of supplies the two of you have. You shake your head and grit your teeth, moving with a shuffling walk to keep from tripping over unseen rocks.

The current is still strong, tugging you towards the invisible lip of the cliff. If someone were to approach this place unawares, they’d easily be sucked over the side.

Begrudgingly, Fett offers you a hand and the two of you move as one unit against the current, legs burning when you finally climb high enough up the hill to escape the water.

You’re sweating and panting, and Fett looks around like he’s out for a nice walk. You stop when you reach the tree line, emptying the pack on a flat rock.

Three ration bars, the ancient med kit, and one canteen half-full of fresh water. That’s it. That’s all that’s left of your supplies.

Quite simply, unless you find more supplies, the two of you are fucked. Fett tugs off his helmet and rakes his hand through his hair. His jaw is clenched, the curls springing back up in every direction, defying his attempt at control.

“There have to be other cave systems around here,” you say, trying to be positive. His withering glare tells you how much he appreciates that.

“Other caves, weird clearings, and oh yeah, fucking mines. A real welcoming island.” You don’t waste time arguing with him. Instead, you shove the supplies into the bag and turn to storm off, tossing it over your uninjured shoulder as you go.

You gaze falls on a patch of dirt, nearly hidden under a large leafy plant.

Squinting against the sun, you get closer, head tilted as you try to make sense of what you’re seeing.

A footprint. It’s not yours, and you’re fairly sure it isn’t Fett’s.

He steps up behind you, crouching to examine it.

“Is it yours?” you ask, to be sure. He shakes his head.

“No. It isn’t one of ours. Any we left yesterday would have been washed away in the storm. This one’s recent.” The sentence takes your breath away, fresh chills breaking out along your body.

“So the figure you saw…” You don’t finish the thought. Fett looks up at you, dark eyes narrowed, jaw tight. His hands fist then flex, telling you what he won’t admit.

The two of you are not alone. And whoever is here with you likely isn’t a friend.

#boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #reader insert #suspense #survival #fun fact I almost took the food discussion out bc I couldn't decide if I liked it #but it had a certain charm so it stayed

14 notes · View notes

kill-the-feels · 2 years ago

Text

the most dangerous thing is to love ~ ch. IV

a/n: hey besties!! it's been a hot minute since i've been on here and even longer since i updated this, but i come bearing a fun chapter so i hope you'll forgive me! i've also got the next four or five chapters plotted out, so the next few updates should be quicker in coming! thanks to everyone who's waited and loved it so far! <3 (previous part) (master list)

warnings: language, lots of snark, references to past injuries, slight horror vibe at the end

word count: ~4.9k

You crouch behind Fett as he lays flat against the edge of the cliff, eyes squinting in the blistering sunlight.

The crystal water all around you shimmers in the distance, the dark forest and cave system between you and the shore.

“I don’t see anything,” he says. You creep up beside him, mirroring his pose, lest you fall over the side.

This is the highest point on the island, a rocky hill that left the both of you winded on the climb up.

“Nothing?” you repeat. He gives you a wicked side-eye, the kind that gives a blaster bolt a run for its money, irritation at your questioning evident.

“Nothing. You’re positive it was bones you found?” You clench your jaw, his skeptical tone grating. This is the third time the two of you have been over this.

“Unless sticks are shockingly white and humanoid. And carry ancient med kits.” He snorts beside you, wiggling himself back away from the ledge.

“This little island is clearly uninhabited. And there are no signs of life. Which makes the presence of another human-”

“Disturbing, to say the least,” you interrupt. He glares at you.

“And unlikely.” You glance at the horizon. Empty, same as it has been.

“Or like us — unlucky. Who’s to say they weren’t like us? Survivors who washed up here, survived as long as they could, then died.” You paint a morbid picture, and Fett makes a face.

“This cannot be the only island on the whole planet. Someone has to be out there.” He's trying to be logical about this whole thing, but you remain unconvinced.

“Maybe. But I don’t like our odds.” Fett fiddles with a button on his wrist, and you watch as it blinks red twice, then shuts off.

“Damn it,” he mutters under his breath, hurrying back the way you came before you can ask any questions. ~~~ The climb back down takes the rest of your afternoon, and the two of you retreat back into the caves as night sets in, building a fire and sitting closer to it for warmth.

“We need food,” you say, halving a ration bar and passing him half. He scowls at it.

“These taste like shit,” Fett says bluntly. You nibble on the edge of it, trying to make it last, so you can trick your stomach into thinking it’s more food than it is.

“I’m sorry, I’ll have the chef prepare something else for next time,” you say, and he glares at you, his favorite pastime.

“If someone hadn’t tossed my helmet, it’d be easier to find things to eat.” You make a face, sticking your tongue out at him like a three-year-old. Always about that damn helmet.

“We could also fish," you suggest. "Got to be plenty of those.” Fett pokes a stick in the fire, ignoring you.

“Tomorrow you’re showing me where you found the bones,” he says instead. Unease slithers down your spine.

“I’d rather not go back there.” He finally glances at you, disdain barely masked on his face.

“Afraid of the nexu?” You clench your jaw, grabbing your own stick to poke the fire with.

“No.” It’s the truth. It’s not the nexu that leaves your skin crawling. It’s the idea of being back in that spot. Everything was so still and quiet, and you can’t shake the sensation that something else was there besides the nexu, watching you.

“If you found the med kit there, odds are there are other supplies. We’re going back.” His tone leaves no room for argument, and you bite off another corner of your ration bar, gathering your courage to poke the proverbial bear again.

“Why are you the one calling all the shots?” You interrupt the silence, unable to let it go. Fett doesn't respond at first, instead twisting his stick in the flames, burning a neat circle around the end. His silence is worse than his caustic arguments, because you can't argue with silence.

“I thought this was a truce.” Bitterness seeps into your voice as you try again.

“If you with your infinite knowledge of survival would like to be in charge, then by all means,” he says calmly. A small flame grows on the end of the stick, steadily climbing up its length to his hand. Fett smudges the stick out in the dirt.

The side of his mouth tilts up, just barely, and you gape. Instead of arguing with you, meeting your anger with the plenty of his own that he's got stored up, he does that.

“Did you just make a joke?” Your own stick burns, and you toss it in the fire instead of extinguishing it.

“I don’t make jokes,” he says, stretching out on his back, one hand resting behind his head. You stare at him as he throws the other arm over his eyes.

“You made a joke.” He gives you a noncommittal hum.

“Some of us are trying to sleep,” Fett says. You snatch up another stick, letting it catch fire. When it burns, you hold onto it, torn between smudging it out and burying it in Fett’s ribs.

In the end, you put it in the dirt beside his stick, pillowing your hands under your head and shutting your eyes. ~~~ “Get up.” The foot to the ribs doesn’t feel any better than before, and your eyes fly open, glare ready.

“Good morning to you too, ass,” you mutter. The sun is barely peaking over the hills but the morning is already hot and steamy, with distant creatures calling out in the jungle.

The waves crash against the rocks as you eat the half of the ration bar Fett passes you on his way out of the cave. You’re scrambling to follow, still half-asleep and vaguely confused.

“Easy,” you huff, sliding on loose rocks as you make your way up the hill. “Do you know where you’re going?”

In your haste to follow him, you put your foot down on the wrong rock, and it twists, sending you sprawling on your knees. Fett catches hold of your upper arm before you can slide too far down, hefting you back to your feet.

“We’re meant to be walking, not sliding,” he says. Blowing hair out of your eyes, you watch where you step, until the two of you reach the top of the hill, just outside of the tree line.

“Where do we go from here?” He's looking at you expectedly, like you should just know where to go. You hesitate, trying to remember.

“I was trying to head to the beach, where we washed up,” you say. “And I know I headed downwards, pretty much straight in.” You bite your lip, unsure how to tell Fett that you basically stumbled onto the spot.

He glances at the sky.

“You have no idea where we should be going,” he says. It isn’t a question.

“I know the general idea. Just… be quiet and let me think.” After the nexu attacked you, it was a miracle you managed to make it back. The green all looks the same, and you have a feeling that the less you try to navigate, the more the your instinct takes over. Plus, the cave is next to the water, so you were able to follow the sound of the waves as you got close enough.

But as you walk forward, the jungle starts to look a little less confusing, certain landmarks seeming familiar. Fett follows silently behind you, shoving leaves and branches out of his way with more force than is probably strictly necessary.

He says nothing, but gradually his breathing gets heavier, like he’s struggling to keep up, still recovering from being sick. You round the corner, into a small, open area littered with rocks.

“Let’s stop for a minute,” you say. Fett glances around, eyes tracing the line of the trees.

“Is this where you were?” he asks, leaning on a waist-high rock. You shake your head.

“No, I don’t recognize any of this. But I need a breather.” The look he gives you is not amused.

“So we keep walking.” He starts off, headed in what feels like the complete wrong direction. With a groan, you hurry after him.

“We can keep walking all you want, but I’m telling you, I need to take a breather, and so do you, and I’m not sure which way I-”

Fett takes another step forward and something clicks under his foot. He freezes and you react on instinct, holding your breath.

“What was that?” He glances back at you without moving, then looks down, lips set in a grim line. Slowly, he crouches, keeping his feet in the same position, until he can brush the leaves and detritus of the jungle away.

His spine stiffens, ramrod straight, and more telling than anything he could say with his words.

“It’s a mine,” he says, voice flat and without any emotion. He's way too calm for the situation, in your opinion. You squint at the ground, just able to make out the top of a durasteel circle.

“Why is there a fucking mine?” you ask, voice a horrified whisper. Fett looks around as he carefully stands back up.

“I don’t know. But there are probably more. Are there any under your feet?” You crouch, maintaining your position the same way he did, and carefully clear away the leaves covering the ground around you.

“I don’t see any.” Fett’s jaw clenches.

“Go back the way we came,” he says. “Watch your feet, trace your steps as best you can.”

“And you?” He eyes the distance between you two.

“Just go.” You shake your head.

“No, we can come up with something. We’re a team now, remember?” He rolls his eyes.

“As if you’d ever let me forget.” Instead of stepping away, you step closer.

“For once in your fucking life, can’t you listen?” he says, angry. “If you step on one, at best we’re both screwed, at worst, we both die.” You stop moving.

“Okay. Since we’re stuck — for now — let’s discuss: why are there mines?” You add the “for now” when he glares at you.

“You’ll be happy to know this counts as a sign of life,” Fett says. “And is one hell of a disturbing way to find out.” Thunder rumbles above the two of you.

“It definitely ranks above the bones,” you say. The wind whistles through the trees, brushing over your skin, leaving chills in its wake.

“Bones can’t kill you.” He looks above him, at the way the clouds are steadily thickening.

“What do we do?” Fett looks behind him, at the way the two of you came. He sighs, rubbing his hands down his face.

“I don’t suppose you have secrets skills with defusing bombs hidden up your sleeve.” You’d almost believe it was a joke, except you know Fett and find it hard to believe he’s joking right now. You’re certainly not laughing.

“Sorry, fresh out of that one,” you say, wiping the sweat off your forehead. Fett closes his eyes, seeming to gather himself before he looks at your fingers.

“Alright. Do exactly as I say.” He reaches for one of the pouches on his belt, pulling out a tiny blade and a little pointed rod of durasteel. When you hesitate, he shakes them at you, drawing you closer.

You move carefully, examining the ground before you shuffle your feet forward until you’re right in front of him.

“What now?” Fett crouches a little, trying to get a good look at the mine.

“Clean it off some more — carefully — so we can see what we’re working with. There should be a place to unscrew the casing. That’s what the pointed piece is for. Tell me when you’ve done that.”

Gently, holding your breath lest you breathe too hard and set the damn thing off, you scrape away dirt and leaves until the muddy mine stares up at you. There’s a raised circular section, with dirt caked into what looks like a tiny X.

“Unscrew there,” Boba says, and you flex your fingers to try and work out the shakiness.

“No problem. Anything else while I’m down here? Some refreshments, maybe?” He scoffs.

“Cut the shit and focus on what you’re doing.” You save the choice words you’ve got for him because it takes too much of your concentration to make sure the little rod is fitting correctly in the corroded X of the screw.

Slowly, it gives way and starts to twist.

“Wait until it’s almost all the way free, then switch to your fingers and twist — slowly. When you get it out, put it to the side and pry the casing open just enough to see what’s inside. Try not to disturb any wires.” He makes the instruction sound like something as simple as baking.

“How am I meant to pry it open and not disturb any wires?” The screw loosens dangerously and you quickly grab at it with your fingers, giving it the final few twists it takes to pull it all the way out. You set it and the rod to the side. Taking a deep breath, you ready yourself for the hard part.

“Get at an angle where you can see down inside without moving it too much. Tell me what you see.” You make a face, the angle required putting your face right next to his leg.

The proximity is weird and makes the situation even worse. Squinting, you try to make out what’s under the dirt.

“Bunches of wires,” you mutter.

“I know that,” Fett says, and you can hear the eye roll. “What color?”

Your head is fully pressed against his leg now, fingers trying to delicately crack open the side some more.

“Brown,” you say finally. “And a blue and white one. Maybe a black one under all that? Or a dark grey?” He huffs.

“Which? It’s important to know.” And really, it shouldn’t surprise you that Fett knows how to disarm a mine. He is the Boba Fett after all.

“Black,” you say decisively, because either you’re right or you’ll be dead wrong and blissfully dead so you don’t have to hear about how you were wrong.

“Cut the brown wire.” You look at the blade in your hand.

“Uh, not to question you, but that was awful quick. Are you sure, buddy?” He looks down at you, where your head is still pressed to his leg.

“Cut the brown wire,” he says through gritted teeth.

Slowly, you stab the blade into the gap, trying to not to touch any other wires. Your heart is racing, skin buzzing with anticipation.

Ever so gently, you turn the blade, watching in fascination as it severs the brown wire.

It is a win, you suppose, that you don’t immediately blow up.

But Fett still has to move his foot.

“Is it cut?” he asks. You nod, already carefully backing away.

“Get back here,” he says, “and cut the blue and white one.”

“I have to cut more?” You’re not proud of the way your voice whines. He glares at you, not even dignifying you with a response.

This time, you’re less careful, slicing your way through it.

“And now the dark grey one?” you ask. He jerks his gaze down to you.

“You said it was black!” Is that fear in his voice?

“I meant black, calm down.”

“Don’t touch the last wire. Back up.” You hold your breath, watching.

Your heart bangs against your rib cage as Fett slowly inches his weight off.

There’s a click and you squeeze your eyes shut. Waiting.

It doesn’t blow.

“Fuck,” he hisses, resting his palms on his thighs, catching his breath. You sigh in relief and he pins you with an unamused stare.

“Some thanks for saving your life would be nice,” you say, and he ignores you. The thunder is louder this time, vibrating against your bones.

“Let’s get moving,” Fett orders, as a few fat raindrops start to fall on your heads.

“Back to camp?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“It’d take too long. Let’s find somewhere to hunker down.” The two of you set off in the opposite direction, moving as quickly as you can as the rain picks up. ~~~ He’s damn lucky.

Squinting through the curtain of rain, Boba follows you as the two of you try to find somewhere to take shelter.

It makes him wish he had his helmet, but he’s not complaining, because he’s damn lucky.

Even now, his hands are still shaking so badly that he keeps them clenched into fists, ignoring the way his legs feel weak and wobbly. He’ll take that to his grave, thank you very much.

But still, being forced to confront his own mortality twice in less than a week is not doing great things for his mental space, especially when he has to deal with you, instead of having peace and quiet to process everything.

“Up ahead,” he calls, seeing a rocky overhang that juts out enough to offer some cover.

Cold rain runs down the back of his neck, slipping underneath the collar of his flight suit and sending shivers down his spine.

It worsens his mood, his frustration making it hard to concentrate. You slide underneath the rock, the space just big enough for the two of you to sit shoulder-to-shoulder, heads brushing the rock above you.

“I hate the rain.” Boba blinks at you as the words slip from the both of you in unison.

“Ha,” you say, nudging your shoulder with his. He shoves back, disliking the contact. “Figures we’d have something in common.” Boba scowls out at the grey curtain cutting the two of you off from the rest of the world.

Rain makes his bones ache, makes him feel cold and clammy, and it’s just so loud.

“It’ll pass,” he says, not sure if he’s reassuring himself or you. You glance at him.

“I know. But if you get sick again, I’m going to be pissed.” He rolls his eyes.

“Not gonna get sick.” You don’t look convinced, your hands twisting in your lap. Rainwater that must have been collecting above him gushes over the side of the rock, running down his side, soaking him. Boba glares, biting back the groan and unintentionally shifting closer to you.

“Easy, big guy,” you say, and he looks down to find your hand in the center of his chest piece as he ends up nearly in your lap.

“It’s getting too wet over here,” he says, glad that his brown skin hides the way he can feel his cheeks getting hot.

With a long-suffering sigh, you scoot over, towards the edge on your side, and he moves closer, hating that his options are touching you or sitting in the small waterfall.

“If it isn’t raining, it broiling hot,” you say. “I wish we could just have one day with moderate temperatures and nothing trying to kill us. No cliffs, no killer cats, and no fucking mines.” Boba snorts.

“I dunno. Mines and cliffs are easy enough to avoid. If there wasn’t any challenge, we might get bored.” You roll your eyes at him, and Boba looks away, momentarily distracted by the strange jump in his chest.

It’s the physical contact, he decides. He hasn’t had something like that in years, not since Jango died. Obviously, he’s had lovers. But it’s different, a quick release that ends just as soon as it’s begun.

The last time he sat this close to someone? And didn’t do anything else, but just sat? He couldn’t say.

“What if it doesn’t let up? Do we camp here?” You make a good point, but he’s not exactly sure where the two of you are, and the rain makes it hard to see where you’ve been. Trying to navigate your way back to camp could prove fatal.

“We don’t have to make a decision yet,” he says, giving you a non-answer that has you rolling your eyes again.

“Sure thing, boss,” you mutter, tilting your head back and closing your eyes. Your brow stays furrowed, like you’re thinking about something that’s troubling you. Boba stares at the rain, willing it to stop. It doesn’t work. It never does, but it didn’t stop him from trying when he was a little boy and it doesn’t stop now.

“How does a person like you end up on a bounty hunter’s radar?” he asks, hating the silence. You open one eye, glancing at him, unamused.

“You know how. It’s the same as it always is.” Objectively, he knows the answer. Jabba put the bounty out, so it has something to do with the Hutts. It’s why he took this job.

But he wants to know what exactly you, of all people, did to merit being hunted down, other than being a wise-ass.

You clench your hands in your lap, twisting your fingers around each other. There’s a barely contained anger there, simmering just below the surface. He recognizes it because he sees it in himself, an odd realization to have.

“That can’t be the whole story,” he prods. “You weren’t worth the fuel it took to find you.” Your jaw clenches and you stare pointedly into the rain.

“And yet, it is.” You don’t offer anything else, just take a few measured breaths in and out, calming your temper. It’s a little impressive actually, to see that you are capable of reigning in your blistering comments. ~~~ You know what he’s doing. He’s probing, trying to learn more about you. What you don’t know is why. You two might be allies, but you’re certainly not friends.

He scraps a spare blade over the side of the rock, sharpening it.

Most likely he’s asking because he still can’t believe that the Hutts are really that petty. Regrettably? They are.

Fett shifts beside you, his knee brushing yours, and you resist the urge to shove him away. You’re cranky right now, back stiff and stinging with the stitches.

And just when you’d started to dry out from the last afternoon thunder shower, here you are, soaking wet again.

Your head hurts too, most likely from dehydration and hunger, and you’re to the point where you just want to tear into something with your hands. Fett’s looking more and more like a solid target, especially if you have to keep sitting in close quarters like this.

“Something is jamming my fucking signal,” Fett says, breaking the silence. Slowly, you turn to look at him.

He shows you the same button on his wrist he was messing with when you climbed to the high point on the island. Once more, it blinks red twice, then shuts off.

“It’s not just dead?” you ask, unsure how it works.

“No, it’s not dead. This thing is meant to be used in emergencies. It’s powerful and can pick up any frequency. When it can connect. Even if there’s no one in the area, it should let me transmit something out, to be heard if someone gets near us.” You hear the unintentional emphasis on “if.” Not knowing exactly where you are in the galaxy makes this ten times harder.

For all you know, the two of you could be in the far reaches, where people rarely — if ever — make it.

“Have you been trying it out this whole time?” He gives you his signature side-eye, before slapping it a little harder.

“When I’ve been awake and able, yes. I’m not an idiot.” Your mouth opens of its own volition, the scathing reply poised to leap off your tongue, Fett unintentionally setting you up perfectly.

And just like that, it quits raining, saving you from most likely putting your foot in your mouth again and starting another fight with Fett.

The last remnants of rain drip down the branches of the trees, soaking into the ground, filling the jungle with a quiet hush. You peer into foliage, watching as a steamy mist rises up from the warm ground.

Now that the rain has stopped, it’s humid, everything around you clammy. Fett wastes no time brushing past you, slicking his hair back, the curls unruly and wet.

He peers into the jungle around you, eyes scanning the foliage.

“Does any of this look familiar?” he asks, and you’re tempted to say yes, just so he thinks you’re more useful than you currently are.

“No,” you say honestly. “I think we made a wrong turn.” Fett rolls his eyes.

“There is no ‘we’ in this. You got us lost.”

“Ehh,” you say, face screwing up. “Maybe technically, but really I told you from the beginning. I don’t know how I got there.” His scoff is filled with contempt, and he shoves your shoulder.

“That way. That’s the direction of the caves. We’ll try again tomorrow.” The prospect of spending another day hiking through the jungle in the broiling heat and inevitable rain does not fill you with joy, but you figure it’s in your best interest not to argue right now.

So you stomp forward, crashing through the foliage, generally being as loud as you can, because you’re learning that the creatures who inhabit this island dislike the noise and tend to run from it.

You round the corner of another large boulder, and freeze.

The tree.

In the misty steam rising from the jungle floor, it’s not as clear as it was the last time, but it’s definitely the tree, the same moss covering it as last time. There’s the pool beside it; you're unable to see the waterfall trickling down, but able to hear it in the hushed stillness all the same.

Fett rams into your back, nearly knocking you over, and you don’t even protest at the sudden sharp pain from your stitches.

You just keep staring at the tree, the mist moving all around, like another entity.

Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth, unwilling to break the silence, even to tell him this is it. The sun is still overhead, and if you look behind you, you can see it peeking through the trees. But in front of you, this tree and its little haven, remain shrouded in shadows.

Your eyes fall to the base of the tree, where you know the patch of grass rests, housing the long-forgotten bones.

You force your foot forward, having difficulty picking it up, like you’re slogging through layers of mud.

You shouldn’t be here.

The words come unbidden to your mind, whispered as clear as day, like someone spoke them into your ear. Fett hasn’t moved either, looking between you and the tree. He squints at something, resting on a root beside the tree. The dark shape looks familiar, and you’re fairly certain it wasn’t here last time.

A cold wind whistles through the trees above your head, stirring the mist and rushing over your arms, like two cold hands.

You back up a step, bumping into Fett again. Something is wrong here. You shouldn’t be here. There’s a pregnant pause, the anticipation nearly killing you, everything in your body telling you to run.

You blink. Once. Twice.

The mist fades away. Gradually, the sun seeps into the clearing, the cold wind replaced by the same balmy breeze everywhere else on the island.

In the absence of the mist, you can see what the shape is.

“Is that my fucking helmet?” Fett speaks first, disrupting the silence and causing you to jump. He charges forward before you can stop him, and you have no choice but to follow, feet no longer stuck to the ground.

He snatches it up and spins on you, finger pointed in accusation.

“Is this why you didn’t want to come here? Why you’ve been leading me in fucking circles? Real funny.” You’re shaking your head, genuinely afraid, but not of him. It feels like he’s disturbing something, being too loud when he should grab the helmet and get the hell out of here.

“I didn’t know,” you whisper. “It wasn’t here last time. I swear.” Your eyes fall to the patch of grass, the bright green almost unnatural against the dark moss.

Is there—? Yes, just there, the white of the bone. Only, it looks like it’s been rearranged, because you definitely left that thing sticking up more.

“Fett, we need to go,” you say softly, and he must hear something in your voice that your words are not saying, because he blinks and looks around for the first time.

The leaves brush together above you, sounding like a crowd whispering. Debating something. The sun shifts again, slipping out of the clearing, and you watch as the mist starts to swirl back up. The cold returns, and you take a quick step back, as shivers race up and down your spine.

Fett tugs his helmet on and reaches for a blaster.

“Don’t,” you risk calling. “Let’s go.” You take another step back, out of the clearing, into the sunny jungle. Fett looks back at the tree one more time, before he follows you.

Neither of you speak for the entire trek back to the cave.

When the sun sets, Fett tightens his grip on his blaster, and you notice the way he stokes the fire higher, until it lights up every corner of the cave.

#boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #reader insert #self-reblog #next part incoming!👀

22 notes · View notes