Shot Through The Heart (Crosshair x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: Good soldiers follow orders. I hope this is to your liking, friend. Love me some Imperial Cross. 🖤 Not gonna lie, I thought of a few ideas for a Part 2 while I was writing this one, if that’s something y’all would be interested in for the future. ;)

Also: Y/F/N = Your First Name, Y/L/N = Your Last Name

Description: Crosshair x Fem!Reader, flirty fluff | Warnings: a single Star Wars swear, as a treat | Setting: post-season 1 (between seasons) | Word count: 1,527 | Gif credit: user kybacrystal

Comment/DM to be added to my new Bad Batch Tag List!

Imagine being an Imperial Cadet in weapons training, and catching the eye of your instructor

After watching the galaxy be torn apart by war for years, all you wanted was to keep the peace. Joining the Imperial Army seemed to be the best way to do that. There weren’t many ways for a woman to help the cause under the Grand Army of the Republic and their seemingly endless supply of clones, but the newly formed Empire was more than happy to receive recruits of all types.

Training with The Empire wasn’t as hard as you thought it’d be. Deciding to join the academy had been harder. For the most part, your instructors were stern and fair, but you weren’t sure how much of their propaganda you bought into. For the most part, you just kept your head down and did as your were told. You’d passed most of your training courses with flying colors, impressing several of your superiors. The routine and discipline required of the Imperial ranks suited you. The war brought chaos and pain on your home world; you craved stability and structure. Nothing settled your spirit quite like making a perfect shot on a practice target.

Today you would advance to the next level in your weapons training. You take a deep breath as you approach the range, trying to clear your mind.

“I heard we’re going to be under observation today. They’re bringing in a specialist to supervise us,” the cadet walking ahead of you says to his companion beside him. 

“A specialist? Who do you think it is?” the other replies.

“I don’t know. As long as it’s not Tarkin, I don’t care who watches us,” he answers, lowering his voice, “He intimidates me.”

A specialist, you thought. It was only your third day on the range. They certainly didn’t believe in half-measures here. You follow the others into the room and fall into formation, steeling yourself for whoever would walk through the door.

Your instructor from the previous days appears a moment later, his head held high and chest puffed out as usual.

You stand at attention, saluting in-sync with your squad.

“Cadets,” he greets coolly, “Today your training will intensify.”

You keep your gaze straight ahead as he walks up the line of troops and continues his spiel.

“You will practice long-range combat, and you will be supervised by a professional,” he announced.

As if on cue, the trooper in question walks through the door. He was unlike the other stormtroopers you’d seen around the compound. Replacing the standard white plates was dark gray armor, several shades darker than your cadet fatigues. He carried a sniper rile over his shoulder, and a DC-17 pistol was holstered at his side. He remained silent as he walked slowly past you and your comrades, turning to stand just behind your instructor.

“Your skills will be tested, and Clone Commander Crosshair with judge you accordingly,” the lieutenant resumed, “If any among you displays accurate and efficient marksmanship during this challenge, they will be considered for advanced instruction.”

“A clone?” you think, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, “He must be something really special for the Empire to keep him around.”

“Retrieve your weapons and assume your positions.” the lieutenant ordered, motioning to the open weapons crate against the wall. 

One by one you each grab your blaster rifles, and line up side by side in front of the range. You steady your rifle on the ledge in front of you, checking the scope and suring-up your footing while you waited for the simulation to begin. The extensive range had four levels, each one taller and further than the one before, the highest point being a tower at the very end of the arena. The training from the days prior had never spawned a target that far, but you assume today’s training is about to change that. As you peer through the sight and start to slow your breathing, the countdown chime begins. 

3...2...1.

Training droids shoot up from platforms in the floor, appearing at increasing distances down the long corridor.

You take aim at the red target on the chest of a droid the second level and pull the trigger. It falls to the ground, the bolt paralyzing its system. Blaster fire fills the room, but you try to drown out the sound, picking another droid on the third level and downing it just as quick. You aim at the one beside it, dropping it before the cadet beside you could. You move your sights up to the tower, but nothing has spawned. 

“Come on,” you think, taking out two more droids on the first level, barely taking your focus off your desired prize.

You claim another two victims when you hear the cadet to your right exclaim, “Up there!”

His mistake. You direct your scope to the citadel once more and size up the lone droid. You breathe deep again, exhaling as the ‘x’ of your sight floats ever-so-slightly toward droid’s head, lining up for the shot. 

“Kriff. Just...a little... more...” You hold the breath. 

The bolt flies over the mechanical carnage, directly into the droid’s left eye. It falls from the tower and hits the floor below with a sharp crack the pierces through the surrounding blaster fire and echoes off the metallic walls.

Before you can even process your success, the few remaining droids begin powering down and the exercise ends. The sudden stillness makes the pounding of your heartbeat deafening. You stand upright and turn to face your superiors once more, and the expression on the lieutenant’s face indicates his satisfaction.

“Well Commander, I believe some of these cadets display potential. What say you?” he grins, turning to the trooper who was leaning against the wall. 

“Perhaps,” he finally spoke, his voice lower than you expected it to be.

His face was still veiled by his helmet, but he seemed to be looking your direction.

The lieutenant nodded, “Indeed, some of you exhibited skill beyond the average. Skill that will serve The Empire well. We will continue with an advanced exercise after the Commander had reported his initial evaluation. Return your weapons and report back here in ten.”

You step forward with the others to comply, but you’re stopped by that very same commander.

“You," he calls out, pointing directly at you, “Stay.”

“Yes, sir," you reply, returning to your previous position, rifle still in your hand.

A wave of anticipation and anxiety grips you as you watch the rest of your squad pour out of the room, leaving you alone with the darkly-clad clone. Before you can look back, he’s already approaching, having left his rifle propped up on the wall. 

You stand at attention as he slowly circles around you.

“You hit all of your targets,” he says, appraising your work, "And took out more droids than any of your fellow troopers.”

“Yes, sir.”

You keep your eyes fixed forward, trying not to feel cornered by his examination.

“Including the droid on the tower,” he added, sounding intrigued, “That’s quite a shot.”

You resist the urge to smile at your success. “Yes, sir.”

“Impressive,” he states, coming to a stop right in front of you. He removes his helmet, and your eyes dart up quickly to see him staring down on you, “At ease, cadet.”

You hear the order, but you can hardly relax with him standing so close.

“Glad you’re impressed, Commander,” you reply, remembering your pride and reclaiming some confidence.

He was still staring, and you could swear you saw him smirk.

“What’s your name, cadet?”

“Cadet Y/F/N Y/L/N.” You finally look up to meet his gaze. The tattoo around his eye immediately catches your attention.

“Where are you from, Y/F/N?”

“Christophsis, sir.”

He blinks in response, still analyzing your every move. “And why did you decide to fight for The Empire?”

You pause to consider the rather personal question, but you already know the answer.

“I want to be able to protect the people I care about. The Empire has finally given me the chance to do that,” you say, convicted of every word, “That’s why I want to fight, sir.”

He weighs your answer. Something shifted in his dark, calculating eyes, and disappeared in a flash.

“So formal,” he scoffed, his sudden amusement catching you off guard once again, “If you’re going to train with me, you’re going to have to stop calling me that.”

The blaster fire still had your ears ringing; surely you didn’t hear him right. “Sir?”

He raises an eyebrow in scrutiny. 

“Sorry,” you say, “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Someone with your skill shouldn’t be wasted in the talentless ranks,” he says, taking another step closer, “I want you for my squad.”

“I...don’t know what to say. I’m honored,” you hesitate, unsure how to address him.

“Crosshair,” he puts the name in your mouth, clearly sensing your unease.

“Crosshair,” you repeat, bearing a smile.

He produces a toothpick from his belt and places it between his teeth.

“That’s better,” he smirks, lifting up the rifle in your grip, “Now, let’s see just how good you are.”

Not Alone (Captain Rex x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: A birthday present for my best friend @consultingwalkerslayer! You’ll always be Rex’s Girl to me! 💙

I’m usually very dialogue-focused for my opening sections, so I really dove deep into some juicy backstory for this one. 

Description: Rex x Jedi Fem!Reader, met formerly, developing relationship, hurt+comfort & slow burn fluff | Warnings: grief and loss, Order 66 related trauma | Setting: Bad Batch era + Season 7 flashback | Word count: 1,486 | Gif credit: user unknown (if you are or know the maker, please lmk)

Imagine being a Jedi, who after being saved from execution by Captain Rex, is on the run after the fall of The Republic

The stars had never looked so cold. What used to be distant light full of hope and wonder had faded away. They seemed as lost and afraid as you were.

You pulled you knees up to your face, disappearing into the seat of the cockpit. A single word surfaced in your mind over and over: gone.

It was all gone, in one way or another. Everything and everyone you loved. Your home. Your former master. Your squad. Your friends.

All you had left was the clothes on your back, your ship, your lightsaber, and Rex.

Captain Rex. You knew, that without him, you would be gone too. How he’d managed to survive all of this, you had no idea. From the day you met him all those years ago, you sensed there was something special about him. The 501st had been called in to assist with the siege that gone sideways on you and your squad. Fighting alongside him and his troops had been an honor. They really were as spectacular as their reputation had implied. The battle was won the very next day, and you even saved the captain from a stray bolt or two, for which he was most grateful. The Grand Army of the Republic had no shortage of exceptional, stalwart soldiers, and the clones had never been anything less than your brothers in arms, but Rex stood out to you from then on. Maybe it was the Force, maybe it was a gut feeling; you were a firm believer in the power of both. Whichever it was, your connection with the clone captain was the only reason you were still alive.

It was nearly two months ago, although it felt like a lifetime. You’d just returned from your council-mandated meditative retreat. The war had started to take a toll on your mind, and losing two of your best clones hit you harder than you had expected it would. Master Yoda thought it best that you step away for a while, saying ‘heal your connection with the living Force, you must.’ That one last piece of wisdom from the Jedi Master would ultimately save you; your squad wasn’t with you when the order was given. Order 66. That one command that turned the greatest men you’d ever known into cold, impervious machines, executing every Jedi in their path without remorse. Of course, you didn’t know that at the time, returning to the temple on Coruscant after being unable to make contact with the Council or any member of your squad. You’d sensed the growing shadows of evil on your return journey, but nothing could have prepared you for staring down the barrel of your clone commander’s blaster. They’d been waiting for you, setting up an ambush in the barracks knowing you’d come looking for them.

Your commander said you were to be executed for treason. All the life in his eyes was gone. There was nothing left of your friend. You’ll never forget his only reply to your pleas: “Good soldiers follow orders.”

The chant still haunted you to the core.

You had closed your eyes, preparing to become one with the Force. Blasters fired, but it wasn’t laser bolts. The Empire hadn’t been the only ones setting a trap. The clones around you had dropped to the floor, having been stunned by none other than General Skywalker’s most trusted captain.

“Rex, what are you doing here? What’s going on?” you’d asked, feeling more fear than you ever had in your life.

“There’s no time to explain, Y/N. The clones have been ordered to hunt down all the Jedi. You have to come with me. We have you get you out of here,” he’d replied quickly, holding out your confiscated lightsaber.

With one tearful gaze into his eyes, you knew this was the only path to take. You reclaimed your weapon and followed him, narrowly evading the onslaught of troopers sent after you, all of them shooting to kill. Even when a blaster bolt grazed your leg and you started to limp, Rex clasped your arm tight and kept you going, continuing to covering you as you stumbled into the shuttle. When you escaped the planet with him that night, you left the only life you knew behind.

Rex was true to his word. Once you were safely away near some desolate moon in the Outer Rim, he explained it all. How the clones had chips that forced them to turn on the Jedi and act against their will. How the war had ended, and how the Republic was the final casualty. How Chancellor Palpatine was now Emperor, and he was forcing every world to join his Galactic Empire. How some were complying, and how some were rebelling. How you would have to hide the rest of your life as long as The Empire was the ruling power in the galaxy. Many tears were shed that night.

Now, huddled in your ship day after day, you waited for news. Good or bad, anything was better than the unknown. Rebellion had already begun, and you wanted to join the fight, but Rex was adamant that it wasn’t safe to do much just yet. After the night of the Purge, you and he had stayed together. You’d gone on a few supply runs with him, and assisted with the rescue of some “prisoners” of the Empire, but things were getting worse. He barely left the shadows himself, both of you moving from camp to camp, and only moving when it was as under the radar as possible.

Of all the people in the galaxy, he remembered you. He risked his life to rescue you, and that was a debt you could never repay. Rex didn’t give up on anyone. Yet, one question had plagued you ever since that day: why you?

An alert rang out, awakening you from your somber daze. Incoming transmission. You rub your stinging eyes and sit up, pressing the button to answer.

“Y/N,” Rex greets.

“Rex. I’m glad to hear from you. Where are you?”

“I had an unexpected run-in with some old friends,” he answers, a bit vague for your liking, “How are you holding up?”

“As well as I can be, I suppose. Rations are running a bit low,”  you shrug, hoping you don’t sound ungrateful.

“I was intending to have returned by now. I have our resupply, I just have to get it to you,” he sighed, “I’m sorry, I know orbiting a moon is not ideal, but after what happened on Dantooine, I don’t think we should be taking any chances until I can find somewhere better to lie low. The Empire is still on your trail.”

“I know, you’re right,” you nod, “I’m thankful for all that you’re doing for me, Rex. I truly am. I just-”

“What?” he questions, raising an eyebrow.

“Why are you still helping me?” That wasn’t what you really wanted to ask.

Confusion immediately took over his expression, “What do you mean?”

What else did you have to lose? You needed the answer. “Why did you come back for me? Out of all the surviving Jedi, out of all the victims of The Empire...why me?”  

The question clearly caught him off guard.

“I don’t leave anyone behind,” he states firmly.

“But you risked your life to save me. Why would you do that?”

His gaze drifts downward a moment before he speaks, “I’ve lost so many people. When I intercepted the transmission that you were still alive, I couldn’t...”

You stare at him, almost disbelieving what he was saying.

“I couldn’t stand to lose someone else,” he says, meeting your gaze.

“Rex,” you breathe, your heart swelling as you being to understand his meaning.

“I know it feels like it’s never going to end. We’ve both lost so much, and we carry that pain with us, for the ones that are gone. But I am with you,” he promises, his voice softening, “You’re not alone.”

You smile, tears blurring your vision, “Neither are you.”

“And you don’t have to worry. I won’t leave you,” he smiles back, “We’ll fight this fight as we did before. Together.”

“Together,” you repeat.

The look you shared was unlike one you’d ever exchanged before. Your heart skipped.

“I’m almost done here. I’ll return as quickly as I can, and we’ll find a new place to set up camp for a while. No more floating in space," he assures, his resolve restored.

“Be safe,” you say, giving him a little salute.

He returns the gesture with a chuckle, “Always.”

The transmission ends, but the smile remains on your face. For the first time since your whole world shattered, you could see it. You could see that hope that the stars had once given you. It was Rex. He was your hope. As long as you had each other, you would be able to find the light once more.

Watch Your Step (Hunter x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: Ask and you shall receive! This one is inspired in part by some fan art I’ve seen in the community that I 100% endorse as canon. You’ll see what I mean. ;)

Description: Hunter x Fem!Reader, fluff with a little ✨spice✨ | Warnings: a little sensuality, shirtless Hunter you're welcome, Star Wars swear words| Setting: pre-TCW Season 7 | Word count: 1,992 | Gif credit: user kamino-coruscant

You had a long list of planets you wanted to visit before you died. Takodana was in the top ten. But why oh why did you have to visit in the middle of the hottest summer they’d had there in over a century?

That’s what you wondered for the thousandth time as you paced back and forth along the perimeter of the squad’s temporary camp.

“If you keep trudging like that, you’ll make a ditch,” Echo called out, watching from a nearby log.

“And then I’ll lay down in it and drown in my sweat,” you exhale, wiping your brow in vain.

“That is unlikely,” Tech interjected, not bothering to look up from his data pad, “It would take a considerable amount of time to collect enough perspiration to drown in. You would die from heat stroke and dehydration much quicker.”

You slow your stride, pausing to exchange exhausted looks with Echo.

“Thank you for clearing that up, Tech,” Echo sighed.

“You are welcome.”

You shake your head, too drained to argue further with the articulate clone.

Wrecker, who up until this point had been an unmoving mass on the ground, lifted his head with a groan, “When is the Sarge going to come back? How long does it take to look for water? I’m melting here!”

“Quit complaining, Wrecker,” Crosshair murmured.

He leaned back against a tree in the shade, eyes shut, seemingly unbothered by the heat. You were surprised the toothpick between his lips hadn’t caught flame yet.

“Although it is biologically impossible for one to melt in this temperature, I’m afraid I have to agree with Wrecker,” Tech spoke up, removing his goggles to wipe away the fog from the humidity. “The fresh water source I detected on my scan of the area is only half a klick from here. It is unusual that he hasn’t returned by now.”

“Try to reach him on the comm,” Echo replied.

“I’m afraid we cannot, at the moment. There is interference from a nearby outpost. Presently I am trying to override it, but I need time.”

Echo stood up from his wooden seat, “Should we go look for him? Maybe something happened.”

“I’ll go,” you declare before anyone else could volunteer, “I’ll find him.”

“Are you sure? You won’t be able to make contact if get into trouble.”

“I’ll be fine,” you smirk, patting the DL-21 pistol on your hip, “Besides, maybe if I walk fast enough I’ll feel a breeze.”

Echo nodded and sunk back down onto the log, casting aside his empty canteen with a grunt.

You hear Wrecker begin to grouse again as you start off into the sweltering forest. The way forward to the supposedly nearby lake was relatively clear, only the occasional tree root cropping up to interrupt the natural path of dirt and grass winding through the timber. It only takes a few minutes for you to realize your hopes to create a breeze were complete folly. Now that you were moving faster and further, your armor felt like an oven welded onto your body. Even with your helmet off, you were starting to wonder if that heat stroke Tech warned about wasn’t so far off.

“How can a planet with just one sun be this hot?” you huff, almost losing your already shaky balance as your foot catches on a rock.

The lush greenery overhead provided some shade from the relentless heatwave, but the stifling humidity nullified whatever mercy the limbs above could offer.

“Kriffing heat, kriffing sun,” you muttered, frustratingly wiping at your eyes as they stung with sweat.

Your flaring temper was about to compete with the solar flares when the smell of water reached your burning nose. Bird song started to grow louder, further confirming you were close to sweet relief.

You stumble through a bush, the sky opening up as you approached the clearing.

“Hunter better be alive...I’m not dragging his body...back...”

Your thoughts evaporated quicker than the moisture from your face. Your gaze jumps to the armor lying on the sand, to the bodysuit cast onto the boulder, then to Hunter kneeling down at the water’s edge, clad only in slim, black shorts.

“This is a mirage. I am definitely hallucinating,” you reason, but you can’t look away.

He stands up, fastening the red bandana around his head as he wades into the water up to his knees

“Nope, that’s him.”

Your jaw goes slack as you realize the tattoo on his face is only part of a full-bodied skeleton etched into his entire left side. Your eyes follow the smooth, ebony outlines of bones from his shoulder, across his back, all the way down the back of his leg.

“Stop staring! What’s wrong with you?” you think, but you’re frozen in place. You watch as he splashes water on his face and rubs the back of his neck. His thick, black hair was drenched, dripping water down his gleaming skin.

“Dank farrik,” you utter breathless.

“Are you gonna keep standing there or are you gonna come out?” Hunter called aloud.

If you had any spit left, you would have choked on it.

“Oh no.”

His heightened senses.

“Sergeant!” you blurt out, your cheeks flushing with more than sunburn.

You fumble forward, almost dropping your helmet.

“Y/N,” he greets, amusement in his voice.

“How uh...how long-”

“Long enough to know it was you. A droid would have shot me by now,” he answered before you could finish.

He sensed you. Of course he did. How could you have forgotten? How could you have remembered...

“Besides, I can always tell when it’s you,” he added.

He finally turns to face you. The waterdrops glisten on his chest. The tattoo trails down from his neck from the front too. Your throat tightens.

You quickly avert your eyes. “I was-, the squad was concerned. When you didn’t make contact.”

“Yeah, didn’t figure out my comm wasn’t working until after I got out here,” he explained, laughing a bit, “The canteens are over there. I filled them up in the stream a little ways to the east. It led me out to the lake. Thought I’d, you know, cool off while I was down here.”

“I see that,” you say, trying to maintain eye contact.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to worry you,” he studied your face, which you pretended not to notice.

“No, I’m fine. Glad you’re alright,” you say, feeling your cheeks get even hotter.

“You sure? Looks like you need to cool down yourself,” he suggests, stepping closer to the bank. “The water is nice and cold.”

He was just torturing you now.

“I’m fine, I don’t wanna take all this off just to put it back on,” you insist, lying through your teeth.

“Ah don’t worry, I can help you with that,” he says, smiling a bit.

You blink. Was, was he flirting with you?

“Tech was right, I’m having a heat stroke.”

He must have noticed the change in your expression because realization flashed in his eyes the next moment.

“Oh I didn’t mean...uh that came out wrong. I just meant, uh...I-” his stammering gave way to nervous laughter.

“Oh that’s okay. Um, we should probably be heading back to the camp anyway. Wrecker was about to melt, as he put it,” you laugh, trying to fix your eyes ahead.

“Ah, right. Of course. Better get that water to him, then,” he nodded, running his hand through his hair. “Would you...nevermind.”

“What is it?” you respond.

“Would you mind handing me my suit? I don’t wanna get sand in it.” he asked, sounding more timid than you’d ever heard him.

“Oh. Yes, of course,” you say, walking over to the boulder where he left his gear. “Not a problem.”

You retrieve the suit, the warmth from the dark fabric soaking through your gloves. You inch closer to the shoreline, moving carefully on the damp terrain.

 "Watch your step. The sand is deeper than it looks,” he cautioned, reaching your direction, ”wouldn't want you to fall."

The words were barely out of his mouth as your boot slid in the slick silt. You try to regain your balance, but it was too late. Gravity has its way as you collide into Hunter, both of you going tumbling into the shallow water. The splash rains down on you as you come to a stop, and when you open your eyes, you’re lying directly on top of Hunter.

“I am so, so sorry, Sergeant,” you gasp, mortified, but you’re interrupted by his laughter.

“At least my suit will be cool now,” he chuckles, wiping away the water from his eyes.

You try to clamor off of him, but you can’t get a grip between your heavy armor and the unsteady sediment. As your balance wavers again, you almost knock your head into his.

“Kriff!” you exclaim, “I’m so sorry!”

He laughing even more now, shaking underneath you. “Here, lemme help.”

Even with your full weight on him, he manages to sit upright, steadying you with his hands on your waist. Your heart skips as you realize your hands are on his chest.

“I...am...” you pant, eyes locking with his. Before you can continue, Hunter reaches for your face, brushing a strand of your dripping hair away from your eyes. His knuckles softly graze your cheek, and your breath hitches. You find yourself leaning forward, glancing between his lips and his soft grey eyes.

“Sergeant? Hunter, do you read me?” Tech’s voice rings out from the comm on the shore.

You jump from the sound, both of you looking toward the sand where the device blinked.

“I...better get that,” Hunter exhales, disappointment in his tone.

“Yes. Definitely,” you say, slowly getting to your feet, holding onto Hunter’s hand until he’s upright alongside you.

“Sorry about your suit,” you say sheepishly. You pick it up out of the water and ring it out the best you can before handing it to him.

“Sorry about yours,” he countered, gesturing to your soaked armor as he trekked up the bank.

You already felt the water seeping beneath the plates into places it shouldn’t, but that was the last thing on your mind.

“That’s alright. You were right. The water was cool,” you say, following behind.

“Hunter, do you copy?” Tech radioed again, sounding a little more concerned than usual.

Hunter retrieved the comm, heaving a sigh. “Yeah Tech, I copy.”

“Good. Is Y/N with you? She went searching for you when you didn’t return.”

Hunter looked over at you as you leaned over to shake out your hair.

“Yeah, she’s with me.”

You catch a glimpse of his smirk before he turns away.

“We’re on our way back. Tell Wrecker to hold on a little longer. We got the canteens refilled,” Hunter reported.

“Copy that. You may want to hurry. I am not sure how much longer Crosshair can restrain himself from putting Wrecker out of his misery. Nor I, for that matter.”

“Will do. Over and out.”

You went over and collected the canteens while Hunter donned his armor, all the while your thoughts raced as the moment from the water relayed in your mind.

Hunter cleared his throat, walking up behind you, helmet under his arm. “Ready to head out?”

You spin on your heel, three canteens strapped to your belt and one in your hand. “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he nods, grabbing the other two and securing them.

“Hunter?” you ask, hesitating to even voice the question in your mind.

“Yeah?”

“What did you mean, when you said you can always tell when it’s me?”

“Oh, well. I just...can. Certain people give off a feeling. It’s not everyone. But some do. It’s hard to describe,” he explained.

“And my feeling?”

He gazes into your eyes and smiles. “Bright as the sun.”

He puts on his helmet and takes point, striding back into the woods. You slip yours on as well, concealing your grin all the way back to camp.

Token (Din Djarin x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: After the finale, I just wanted to write something fluffy about this cinnamon roll. Took me a little longer than I expected after getting the flu, throwing my shoulder out, and then getting braces, but here it is in all its feelsy glory.

Description: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Fem!Reader, the fluff and angst are strong with this one | Warnings: none | Setting: pre-season one | Word count: 1,483 | Gif credit: user trelawnys

Imagine being an old flame of The Mandalorian and being unexpectedly reunited with him after he saves your life, only to face that you are now on different paths

The Razor Crest had hardly changed a bit since the last time you’d seen it. Dark, dingy, and nondescript. Nothing about it said comfort or warmth, but it served as a home all the same. At one point, it had been your home too.

Sitting on an unmarked crate, you exhale, thinking about how much you had changed. You glance down at your hands, calloused and worn, years of digging for scraps and salvage taking its toll on your once nimble fingers. You’d collected many a bounty with a sniper blaster in your grip. Back when your reputation earned you currency, food, and shelter. Before an old ally sold you out to a competitor, framed you for a failed job worth millions, and took away everything you’d bled and fought for. Now the bounties were on your head. You were the one being hunted, and life was purely a game of staying alive for one more day.

Your partner from so long ago was certainly the last person you’d expected to see in this corner of the galaxy, let alone he be the one to shoot down the bounty hunter who’d cornered you that morning. Out of all the planets in all the systems, The Mandalorian had found you once again.

The sound of your rescuer descending from the cockpit pulls you from your bittersweet ruminations.

“We’re here,” he announces, stepping off the narrow ladder as the ship lands with a jolt.

“Where’s here?” you ask, communication being sparse thus far.

“Lexrul. I have an ally here. They will give you refuge until you can get on your feet.” he answers.

“Wow...thank you. That means, a lot,” you say, moved by his kindness even after all this time, ”And thank you for saving me back there. I really owe you one.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismisses, walking closer, “What were you doing on Christophsis anyway? Why was that hunter after you?”

“I was involved a botched job with the wrong people. Got cornered, wound up stranded five months ago with a fried hyperdrive. Couldn’t get the parts to fix it,” you say, wanting to avoid the finer details of the incident.

“Why didn’t you buy passage off the planet?” he questions, sensing something wasn’t adding up.

You sigh, knowing there was no use in hiding the truth from him.

"I don’t have any money left. What you’re looking at? That’s all that’s left of me,” you answer, gazing up at him.

He takes a seat on the crate across from you. “What happened?”

“Benec Nold sold me out to The Hutts. We where working a job together, trying to take down a Duros that stole 9 million credit’s worth of spice from The Hutt Clan. We found him, but Nold set me up. Staged the whole thing. Killed the thief, made it look like I lost the goods, took it all for himself, and disappeared. Even after Jabba bit the dust, his bounty hunters are still breathing down my neck, trying to collect the Gundark-sized price on my head for the rest of the clan. For six years, I’ve been scraping garbage off the streets to not starve to death, while that sleemo is probably sunning himself on a Scarif beach,” you seethe, clinching your fists at the thought. “That Trandoshan you shot in the alley was just the next in a long line of creeps trying to cash in.”

He was silent for a moment, processing the information. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. I’m used to it,” you shrug, forcing a smirk, though you knew it was hollow, “What about you? How’s the hunt?”

“Fine,” he says, getting to his feet.

You watch as he walks over to a panel on the wall, swiftly pressing a combination of buttons.

“Just fine?”

The doors of the ship’s arsenal open with a swish, revealing dozens of weapons.

“Yeah,” he says, his tone lower.

His guard was up. That was something you were familiar with, but he seemed agitated. Unsettled. Sad.

“Why can’t we talk like we used to?” you ask, standing up.

“A lot has changed since then, Y/N,” he replies, back still turned to you as he surveys a selection of blasters.

“You haven’t,” you say, stepping up behind him, “You’re the same Mando I knew all those years ago.”

“I wish that were true,” he sighs, sorrow in his voice.

You reach out and put a hand on his shoulder, and he finally turns to face you.

 “Y/N, you need to stay somewhere safe. Make a better life for yourself,” he implores.

“It’s not that easy. You know that. Imps are still everywhere. I was thrown out of the Guild. Everywhere I turn there’s someone more than happy to put a blaster to my brain. I can’t just disappear. No one can,” you respond. “I’ve been running my entire life. It’s all I know.”

“You’re stronger than that. I know you. You’ll find a way. You always have,” he insists. “I wish...that things had been different.”

“Din,” you say, “Come with me. Please. We can run together. You and me against the galaxy. Just like it was before.”

“We can’t go back, Y/N,” he says, “This chance...it’s all I can give you.”

“Please,” you beg, desperately trying to stave off the loneliness sinking in your chest.

“I’m bound to the Mandalorian life. I made my vow,” he denies, taking your hands in his. “This is the way.”

You nod, fighting the tears welling in your eyes.

“In that case, please, let me say goodbye,” you say, timidly reaching for his helmet.

He gently grabs your wrists, “No living thing can see my face. It’s forbidden.”

“I don’t need to see,” you state, pausing as he interprets your words. After a moment, you gazing up the darkened visor where you knew he stared back at you, he released his grip.

Receiving his permission, you close your eyes, slowly lifting his helmet. It’s heavier than you expected, but you sense the weight lift as he helps, removing it the rest of the way.

The temptation to open your eyes is so strong, but you resist, knowing how much his Creed meant to him. In the place of sight, you use your hands to see the face of the man you knew so well.

Your pulse quickens as your hand graces his chin. The rough stubble tickles your fingertips. His hand finds yours; he holds it tight as you cup his cheek. You lean closer, feeling the warmth of his breath on your face. Your heart pounding, he closes the gap between you, softly pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is as tender and gentle as you’d hoped, and the light tickle of a mustache is a welcome surprise; another treasured detail to complete your picture of him. Far sooner than you’d like, he draws away, touching his forehead to yours.

“If I could alter my path, know that I would align it to yours. If not in this life, then in the next,” he utters, lingering.

His words run through you like a blade. Your heart aches more than ever.

“Din.”

“I hope you find everything you’re looking for.” he says with finality, pulling away.

Tears run down your cheeks as you open your eyes. He’s turned away from you, helmet on, blaster in hand.

The ship’s boarding ramps lowers, cool wind rushing inside and hitting your face. You wipe your eyes with your sleeve, knowing the moment has passed.

“My contact will be waiting for you. Follow these coordinates,” he explains, standing by the ramp, holding out a map projector. “Imperial control fell here long ago. The remnant is small. You’ll be safe.”

“Good to know,” you reply, taking the chip.

“Take this too,” he extends the weather-worn rifle.

Your eyes narrow as you realize exactly what rifle it was. “You kept this all these years?”

“You told me to take care of it for you,” he reminds, chuckling a bit, “Let’s hope it still fits.”

A smile spreading across your face, you take your faithful weapon back, immediately feeling whole with it in your grip. “Oh yeah. Like a glove.”

Silence falls between you, the only sound being his cloak snapping in the wind.

“Thank you. For everything,” you finally speak.

“Take care of yourself,” he replies, extending his hand.

You grasp it firmly, meeting his gaze through that visor once again, “You too.”

Before it becomes impossible, you force yourself to let go.

As you tread down the ramp into the glow of twilight, you leave your old life behind. Yet as you walk toward your future, you pray that someday, somehow, The Mandalorian will be there to find you once more.