#hunter's also there for exactly one panel

[anglerflsh]

final lyrics of I Know Those Eyes/That Man Is Dead, from the Count of Montecristo Musical

#[.art] #toh #the owl house #philip wittebane #caleb wittebane #wittebane brothers #emperor belos #the title of that song is more suiting than the song itself methinks. oh well #mostly I drew this because I realised how much closer to his brother he looks in the last few episodes pre-monster form #that must have been on purpose right? To try and mirror the one this was all for etc etc #hunter's also there for exactly one panel #but I'm not tagging him

[beskarandblasters]

Immortal By Design

Possessed!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist | Story Playlist

Author’s note: I originally had this posted as a mini series, but I decided to make it a one shot instead! (｡◕‿◕｡) To see what this Din looks like, click here! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Summary: Din Djarin picks up a mysterious job at the Bounty Hunter’s Guild from a high paying client that specifically requested him. Once he tracks down the bounty, he discovers two things— you tracking the bounty for different reasons entirely and a lot more than he bargained for.

Word count: 8k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), no Grogu in this universe, possession, cursed object, dark!Din, monsterfucking (I think), Din has heightened capabilities, dub con/noncon, restraints, reader gets captured, oral sex (M and F receiving), rough oral sex, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, mir’sheb = smart ass, character death, no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

Part One: Possession of Another Kind

It’s a typical day on Nevarro. Din walks through the marketplace, heading towards the Bounty Hunters Guild to pick up another job as part of his normal routine. 

Typical. Normal. Ordinary. 

That is unless he steps into the Guild. 

“Mando!” Karga shouts, beckoning for him to come to his booth. He seems frantic… urgent. Before Din even has a chance to speak, Karga continues, pulling out a tracking fob and setting it on the table. 

But for once there’s no bounty poster hologram, no flickering blue lights. 

“No poster?” Din asks, cocking his helmet to the side. 

“No…  But the reward is quite large.”

“How much?”

Karga scans the room, eyes bouncing from person to person. He leans forward, lowering his voice and saying, “A million credits.”

Din can’t believe his ears. There’s no way this is legit. No one on Nevarro or in the Outer Rim for that matter has that kind of credits. 

“Sounds like a scam,” Din says, leaning back in the booth. 

“It’s not. Droid came here this morning and dropped off the fob. Said they’d back with the reward once the bounty was captured.”

“You know I don’t care for droids.”

“You can’t pass up this reward.”

“…No one else wanted this job?”

“The client specifically requested you.”

Din’s hairs stand on their ends. A shiver runs down his spine. The fact that someone did their research… Someone who knows who he is and specifically chose him for the job is suspicious but also intriguing. And the reward is too prosperous to pass up. This bounty must be dangerous if the client is willing to pay this much. 

“Fine. I’ll do it,” he sighs. He takes the fob from the table and slips out of the booth. 

“Good luck,” Karga says with a strange look in his eye.

Din isn’t one to get scared, but the circumstances here are undeniably ominous. Between Karga’s strange behavior, the missing bounty poster, and the absurdly high reward, Din has an unsettling feeling coursing through his body. He heads back to the Crest, his mind wandering with the possibilities of what exactly he just got himself into. 

He plugs in the coordinates from the fob into the control panel of the Crest. And the location is an immediate red flag…

The bounty is located on Malachor of all places. 

Malachor is a barren wasteland of a planet. Din knows the planet means bad news but he doesn’t know why exactly. Something about the Empire or the Sith. The Empire he’s well acquainted with but the Sith? The Jedi? Not so much. 

At least if it’s a barren place, the bounty shouldn’t be too hard to find, right? He’s not too worried about the potential Sith connotations just yet. Din’s a capable warrior, raised by the best of the best in the galaxy. He should be able to hold his own without too many troubles. 

He sets a course for Malachor and takes off. Nevarro gets smaller and smaller underneath him and the unsettling feeling returns. He just keeps reminding himself of the life-changing reward he’ll receive if he succeeds. 

Not if but when.

-

It doesn’t take too long to get to Malachor from Nevarro. Both are Outer Rim planets. So thankfully, the journey there was rather uneventful. 

But when he lands on Malachor? That’s a different story.

He lands the Razor Crest on the desolate surface, grabs the fob, and heads outside. Barren would be an understatement to describe this planet. It’s empty. There’s not a single soul around for miles. It feels like the planet is absent of all light sources. Thick, gray, clouds coat the sky above him. The ground beneath his feet is a rocky wasteland. It’s not hard to understand why there’s no life here; why no one comes here. All of this begs the question; what is the bounty doing here?

He follows the signal of the tracking fob, feeling like he’s walking in circles for ages. His surroundings are the same, with no identifiable landmarks or features around to let him know he’s making progress. He feels his sanity start to slip. The tracking fob keeps beeping monotonously, showing no signs that he’s getting closer to the target. It’s driving him insane. For an uninhabited planet, this bounty is a lot harder to find than he originally thought. He starts to wonder… Is this even worth it anymore? Is it worth his time and frustration?

He interrupts his own train of thought.

Yes. Yes, it is worth it. For a million credits, you’ll spend however long it takes to find the bounty, he tells himself.

Good things come to those who wait. In the distance just over the horizon line, he spots something odd. As he gets closer he can slowly make out what it is– four top-heavy, pyramidal stones situated in a square formation. The tracking fob beeps faster and louder as he gets closer to the stones. Once he’s up close and personal with them he sees just how massive they are. They tower over him and etched in the stone is a language he can’t understand, written in bright red. One of the stones is surrounded by an opening in the planet, a deep hole descending below the surface. The tracking fob only goes crazier as he draws closer to the crater. Only way to go from here is down. 

He uses his jetpack to carefully lower himself into the hole, using the lamp attached to his helmet to see where he’s going. Once he feels the ground beneath his feet, he looks around and can’t believe his eyes. 

A vast field of stones is buried underneath the surface, each of them etched with the same red lettering he saw up above. And in the center of the field is a black stone pyramid, the tip of it glowing red. He looks beneath him and he’s standing on a cliff. He lowers himself deeper into the field of stones, his hairs standing on their ends. This is unmistakably a bad place. 

Something ominous looms in the air, a feeling of dread brewing in Din’s stomach. But he persists, following the trail the tracking fob is taking him. He inches closer and closer to the temple? The tomb? Whatever that pyramid-looking thing is. As he gets closer to it, a disembodied voice calls to him. 

Come closer. 

…Is it the bounty? The voice didn’t sound like it was speaking out loud… It sounded like it was inside Din’s head. 

But how is that possible?

He’s at the opening of the pyramid and it all happens so fast. The tracking fob is ballistic, beeping, and flashing lights rapidly. Everything is a blur around him. It’s like his mind isn’t in control of his body. 

All he can hear is the fob going off and the voice talking directly in his ear. 

Come find me.  

A large box stands before him, blackened stone etched with red, just like everything else in this strange place. He’s not sure what this place is exactly but he feels like he has to be standing in some sort of temple. The box looks more like a tomb, long enough for Din to fit inside of it lying down. This place definitely belongs to some sort of religion. Maybe even a cult. Could this place belong to the Sith? What is he getting himself into?

Open the lid, the voice commands. 

He does as he’s told, lifting the heavy stone lid and revealing… an amulet. 

Put me on. Don’t be shy, the voice says. 

He looks down at the fob in his hand, the beeping is incessant. It can’t be any clearer that this… this thing is what he was sent to look for. 

Put me on, the voice commands again. 

He takes the silver chain in his hands, the red pendant glowing red just like everything else here. He really shouldn’t put this strange, seemingly bewitched object on but he feels compelled to. The voice is convincing, talking to him like this is what he’s supposed to be doing. 

He lifts the chain above his helmet pulling it down around his neck. 

Protect me. Keep me close to your heart. 

Without thinking he tucks the chain into his flight suit, feeling the cool metal contrast against his warm skin. All of a sudden he feels… different. He’s not really sure how to explain it but he feels better, like he’s more in tune with himself. He feels stronger, more alert, almost like he’s on another plane of existence. It’s exhilarating like someone just gave him the best drugs in the galaxy. 

The beeping on the tracking fob finally subsides. Could it be that he was after all this time? That doesn’t make sense. He was sent to track down… an object? No, that can’t be right. 

But it does make sense why there was no bounty poster. It makes sense why the client was so mysterious.

Another question crosses his mind… 

Why was the reward so high?

His mind swirls with questions and possibilities as to what this all means—the voice buts in, interrupting his train of thought.

It doesn’t matter how or why. It happened for a reason. 

He decides the voice is right and revels in his newfound heightened state. Listening to this voice that seemingly comes from nowhere feels right, almost like he’s complete. 

As he exits the pyramid a shout rips him from his bliss. 

“What have you done?!”

He turns around to find a woman. That woman is you, your brow furrowed and your face aghast. You storm over to him, your eyes looking past him and into the pyramid; into the open tomb.

Din’s speechless, unsure of what exactly your problem is. He was just completing a job. What’s it to you? Mindlessly, his hand gravitates towards the chain under his flight suit, almost feeling the need to protect it. 

“You didn’t put it on, did you?” you ask, turning your gaze back towards him. 

“What does it matter to you?” he snaps.

“You have no idea what you just did.”

“It’s a necklace. I put it on. It’s not the end of the world,” he deadpans. 

“You don’t know what that is?”

“…No?”

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. Din doesn’t understand what’s going on, he doesn’t understand why you’re so pressed by this. It’s just an object. It can’t hurt anyone. 

“That amulet is cursed by one of the Mortis Gods… the Son.”

“…Who?”

“You don’t know who the Mortis Gods are? The Ones?”

“It sounds familiar?”

Don’t listen to her, the voice chimes in. 

“The Mortis Gods were a powerful family of force-wielders. The Son embodied the Dark Side. The Daughter embodied the light side. And the Father held the balance between them until the Son grew too powerful. And then- Actually you know what? I’m not here to give you a kriffing history lesson. The bottom line is the Son cursed that amulet you’re wearing.”

DON’T LISTEN TO HER.

“Why is that a problem?” he asks, getting defensive. 

“You don’t feel… different?”

Deny. Deny. Deny. 

“No.”

In one swift motion, you’re grabbing a dagger hidden in your boot and reaching for the cowl of his cape. You rest the flat side of the blade against the fabric, glaring into his visor. 

“So you don’t mind if I cut the chain off of you?”

Some innate instinct comes over him, the primal urge to protect what is now his. He swats the dagger from your hand, his arm looping around your neck and placing you in a headlock. His other hand reaches for the handcuffs on his belt, grabbing them and enclosing them around your wrists. 

Good. This is good.

“What the”

Leave her here.

“What’s stopping me from leaving you here?” he says, tightening the headlock.

“Be my guest. But I’ll just say this– You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

“And you do?”

“Yes. I’ve been researching this for many cycles now. You leave me here? You sabotage yourself.”

His grip around your neck softens and he slowly releases you, grabbing your upper arm. 

What are you doing? I said leave her here. Stop-

“Fine, but you’re coming with me.”

He bends down and wraps his arms around your thighs, hoisting you over his shoulder. Din’s always been a strong man but everything he does feels so effortless. His senses are heightened. His reflexes are swift. He feels like he’s at his peak; the best version of himself. 

You protest, banging your fists into his back but it doesn’t matter. He’s drowning out your angry shouts and listening to the voice. 

Fine. Take her back to your ship and keep her as a prisoner.  She’s nothing but a loose end. 

He makes his way out of the underground cavern and back up to the surface, completely tuning out everything you’re saying. When you try to wiggle free he just tightens his grip, keeping you firmly pressed up against his body. 

Once he’s on the surface again, he sees what must be your ship— or what’s left of it anyway. You crash landed here. In actuality, without Din, you’d be stranded here. And he doesn’t miss the opportunity to remind you that. 

“Quit complaining,” he says, cutting off your shouts of protest, “Without me, you’d be rotting away here.”

You sigh and Din feels like he could almost hear you roll your eyes. His comment worked, though. Because for the rest of the journey back to the Razor Crest, you’re silent. Only muttering a few words under your breath as he sets you down on a crate in the storage area. 

His helmet snaps towards you. He acts like he can’t hear what you said but the truth is he did. You muttered something about how he only cursed himself in the end. 

“What was that?” he asks, crouching down in front of you. 

“You have no idea what you just did to yourself.”

“And you do?” he counters, “Why is this necklace such a big deal to you?”

“Like I said before, it's cursed.”

“Cursed how?”

“It makes the wearer immortal. But if they were to take it off, they’d die.”

Don’t listen to her. It doesn't matter. No one is taking me from you.

“Did you say… immortal?”

“Mhm.”

“But… how can that be?”

“You really don’t know anything about this? You didn’t mean to put it on?”

“No. I was sent here to track down a bounty. I was expecting a person, not a piece of jewelry.”

“Who sent you here?”

“The client was anonymous.”

You lean back against the metal wall of the Crest, eyes wide and lost in thought. Din’s had enough of your questioning, though. Who are you exactly to question him while he’s just trying to do his job and get paid?

“Who are you?” he asks. 

“Does it matter?”

“It does. Clearly, you know what this is. Were you after it for yourself?”

“No! That’s not it at all. I wanted to destroy it. I-”

She’s lying. Silence her. 

Surely the voice isn’t telling him to kill you… Right? 

Even if that’s what the voice is insinuating, he doesn’t do it. Instead, he grabs you by the arm again and hauls you to the carbonite freezer. You beg and plead for him to reconsider his actions but he doesn’t listen, drowning out your voice and following his instincts again. Soon enough, you’re encapsulated in the carbonite. Without a second thought, Din climbs the ladder to the cockpit and sets a course back to Nevarro. He sends a transmission to Karga, letting him know that he secured the “bounty” that way the mysterious droid will be back with the credits. There are only two things on his mind; collect his reward and learn more about his newfound power. 

-

Part Two: Purge the Poison

Din lands on Nevarro with adrenaline coursing through his body. This is what this treacherous journey has been leading up to– the reward. He takes one last look at you frozen in the carbonite before leaving and heading back to the Guild. He’s not sure how this is supposed to work. He doesn’t have a bounty to deliver. He just has an object, bound to his neck that he allegedly can’t take off. He should be able to collect the credits, right?

Wrong. 

The droid never returned. 

“I don’t know, Mando. The droid never came back.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” The voice is noticeably quiet for once…

“All we can do is wait. I don’t have a way to contact the client,” Karga sighs. 

Din leans back in the booth and closes his eyes. He’s not just angry– he’s enraged. But he keeps his cool, not snapping here in the Guild. 

“You know where to find me,” he says, irritation heavy in his voice. He slips out of the booth and storms out of there, heading back to the Crest where you’re waiting for him, still encased in carbonite. 

He’s filled with so much pent-up rage that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s bursting at the seams. It’s threatening to bubble up over the surface. It’s about to let itself loose and out into the world. It’ll tear him apart if he doesn’t do something about it.

I know what you can do about it. 

He internally winces at what the voice is about to suggest.  

Kill someone. Kill her. 

He can’t and he shouldn’t. For the time being you’re valuable to him. You mysteriously have much information about the strange item he found on Malachor. Where did you come from? How do you know so much about this amulet? Were you lying when you said you wanted to destroy it?

Once he’s back inside the Crest he gets to work on unfreezing you. He watches as your carbonite slowly melts away, revealing your damp and shivering form. He catches you as you fall forward, keeping you upright. You’re blinking rapidly, searching your surroundings. 

“Your vision will return,” he says curtly. 

“I know,” you snap. 

He forcefully grabs you by the shoulders and drags you to a crate. He sits you down but leaves your cuffs on. He walks to his bunk and grabs his blanket, draping it around your shoulders before crouching down in front of you. 

“You’re going to tell me what you know about this,” he says, pulling the amulet out from under his flight suit but never taking it off, “And you’re going to tell me who you are.”

“I already told you what I know about it. You’re immortal until you take it off.”

“And then what? I’ll die.”

“Yup. I’ve been researching it for a long time.”

“Why? What put you onto this?”

“I’m a history professor at Coruscant University. My thesis was on the Mortis Gods which led me to the Son’s Amulet. I spent many cycles trying to figure out if it even existed and where it was hidden,” you explain, looking past his helmet. 

“What were you going to do with it once you found it?” he asks, tucking the amulet away. 

“Destroy it,” you say, meeting his visor. 

“Beat you to it.”

“I know but now you’re the one who’s screwed.”

Don’t listen to her. Think of all the untapped potential you have. 

“Whatever, mir’sheb.”

“Huh?”

“Smartass.”

“I’d rather be a smartass than a dumbass,” you retort. 

“I am not-”

“You put on a creepy haunted necklace all because the voice told you to.”

He physically feels the blood drain from his face. 

“You know about the voice?”

“Mhm.”

Silence her. 

But he can’t kill you. 

“I bet that voice is telling you to do all sorts of nefarious things,” you tease. 

His fists clench and unclench at his sides. You and your smart mouth. If only he could take out his frustration on you. If only you weren’t so valuable to him. If only there were another way to relieve his tension…

“I’d stop talking if I were you.”

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” you counter, mouth forming into a smirk. 

“Wipe that smirk off your face,” he answers. 

“I’d like to see you try.”

You irritate the hell out of him but he can’t deny how attracted he is to you. Between the sly smirk on your face, the mischievous look in your eye, the little droplets of water beaded up on your skin, and how you don’t seem to be afraid of him even though you should be– Maker, it all makes his cock twitch with arousal. 

It’s almost like the voice takes over with the way he swiftly rises from the floor, grabs you by the waist, and throws you over his shoulder. 

“What the-” you start.

“Talk a big game, get punished,” he says nonchalantly, setting you down on his bunk. 

You open your mouth to speak but you’re at a loss for words, face to face with his massive bulge. He undoes the fly of his flight suit, his cock springing free. You stare at its intimidating size, it's rock-hard and directly in your face. It leaves you speechless. 

“Think you can handle it?” he teases. 

Maker, he wants to grab your face and shove his cock down your throat– completely fucking your face. He can tell you want it, too, from the way you ogle it with wide eyes. 

It’s not gonna suck itself. 

He hooks a hand around the back of your head and wraps the other around the base of his cock, forcefully thrusting himself in your mouth. He lets out a deep, guttural moan at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth encapsulating his cock. 

His hands move to each side of your face as he thrusts in and out. Your mouth stretches open even wider to accommodate his girth as tears spring in the corners of your eyes. 

“Not smirking now are you, mir’sheb,” he says, your tear-filled eyes locked with his underneath the helmet. 

You moan in response and he fucks your face even harder. Tears are rolling down your cheeks now and the sight has him ready to bust. With one last thrust into your mouth, he spills his cum down your throat, holding your head in place as he finishes. Once he’s done he pulls out and to his delight but your horror, he’s still hard. It’s the voice, the curse, or the amulet– whatever this is that has him so feral. 

He has to see your body, he has to feel you underneath him. But you’re still wearing your cuffs. If he takes them off will you bolt? Will you make a break for it, leaving him here with his cock still wet? 

He leans forward and unlocks your cuffs, anticipating your next move. He expects you to run but you don’t, instead you’re sitting here with a wild look in your eye. He reaches for the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head. He pushes you down on the bunk and hooks his hand around the waistband of your pants, sliding them off along with your underwear. 

Look at her. She’s lying here so patiently, so obediently for you. Use this opportunity to claim her as your own. 

He’s not thinking. He’s following whatever the voice tells him to do. He takes off his helmet, not even thinking about the repercussions he’ll face. He’s got two things on his mind; marking up your body and being inside you already. He sets the helmet down on the floor and takes off his gloves before hovering over you on the bunk. Your eyes widen when they meet his and a shocked expression washes over your face. But why? How do you know he’s taken the creed? Surely a history professor would know that there are all sorts of Mandalorians; ones that walk both ways. It isn’t until he looks over at the small mirror he has hanging on the wall of his bunk. 

His eyes. Maker, his eyes. They’re no longer their usual shade of warm brown. His irises are a pale purple shade, eerily glowing. It startles him for a split second before his attention turns back to you, writhing underneath him. 

He brings two fingers to his mouth and moistens them, spreading your legs apart and sliding them inside you. You gasp at the sudden girth of his thick fingers expanding your walls. He curls them against your g-spot repeatedly, your pleasure continuously building. In no time, he pulls your first orgasm from you, feeling the way your cunt flutters around his fingers. Your release soaks his hand and once he feels that you’re done, he pulls his fingers from you and soaks his cock with your wetness. In one swift motion, he thrusts inside you, giving you no time to adjust to the newfound length and girth. He plants his hands by either side of your head, locking eyes with you as he fucks you relentlessly, driving his hips into you at an unforgiving pace. 

He leans forward and marks up your neck with his mouth, nipping and biting at the soft skin. He moves up and down before switching sides, licking where his teeth just marked you. You gasp and moan at the repeated pattern of biting, licking, and kissing. Once he feels his work is complete he pulls back and locks eyes with you once more. 

You fall speechless, unable to form any real words besides deep moans and mangled sobs. Tears continue to roll down your cheeks, your mouth falling open into a soft O. He’s going to cum if he keeps watching you become reduced to a complete mess underneath him. Your walls tighten up around his cock in anticipation of a big release. He feels the way your cunt grips and releases his cock rhythmically. It draws his own orgasm from him, his cock spilling his warm cum with the head nestled by your cervix. He groans while letting out a string of Mando’a curse words that he himself can barely understand, not in his blissful state. 

He pulls out and collapses on top of you, his head resting in the crook of your neck. You’re both panting against each other and once the endorphins finally settle regret sinks in. No, not because he had sex with you. Because he took his helmet off. 

His chest heaves for a moment and he does his best to hide it, not wanting to seem weak after the power he just showed you. For some strange reason, he’s worried about what you’ll think of him– you who’s so irritating, who gets under his skin like no one else. Yes, he’s worried that your perception of him will change. 

“Mando?” you ask, voice soft and concerned, “Are you okay?”

“I… I’m not supposed to do that.”

“Cum inside me?” you tease.

“No,” he says, pulling himself off of you and sitting at the foot of the bunk, “Take off my helmet.”

“Oh,” you say, sitting up and moving beside him, “Then why did you do it?”

“The voice told me to,” he says, placing his head in his hands. 

You bring your hand to the back of his neck. At first, he stiffens up, not used to the feeling of someone’s hands there. But once your hand travels up to his hair, rubbing small circles against his scalp, he relaxes. 

“You didn’t know? That the voice could make you do things you never thought possible?”

“No,” he sighs.

“You really had no idea what you were getting into, didn’t you?”

“Did you think I was lying?” he asks, turning his head and glancing at you.

“Honestly… yes.”

“I wasn’t. I was sent to Malachor for a bounty.”

“And the tracker led you to the amulet?”

“Mhm.”

“But why would someone send you there?”

“I’m not sure. I should’ve never taken it but the reward was high.”

“How much?”

“...A million credits. I know it sounds too good to be true.”

“Did you go to collect the reward yet?”

“Yeah. The client never showed up to pay.”

You fall silent for a moment, lost in thought. His eyes search your face for some sort of answer and once again, the voice is noticeably silent.

“Do you still have the tracking fob?”

He gets up and grabs it off a shelf in the storage area, sitting beside you on the bed and handing it to you. You activate it and study the mysterious absence of a bounty poster. You turn it off and hand it back to him, asking, “Was there anything else… weird about the job?”

“The client supposedly requested me specifically.”

“Strange…” you trail off.

Both of you sit in uncomfortable silence, trying to put all the pieces together.

“Why would someone want to make you immortal?” you wonder out loud.

Din’s guess is as good as anyone’s. He’s been trying and failing to wrap his head around what he got himself into.

“Mando… I think you were set up.”

“What?! By who?!” he asks, his purple eyes locking with yours again. 

“I can’t answer that…”

“...Will you help me find out who?”

You pause, looking at him with a sort of pity in your eyes. Without saying a word, he pleads with you, his strange-colored eyes begging for help, something to save him from this impossible situation he’s found himself in.

“I really don’t want to but… You did save me from being stranded on Malachor,” you sigh, “But fine. I’ll help you.”

The two of you have to start somewhere. 

-

Part Three: Legends Never Die

“If I’m going to help you, I think I deserve to know your name,” you say. 

Do not tell her. 

For once he can’t listen to the voice. This amulet, this voice told him to take off his helmet. Something he’d never do. His creed is the most important thing to him. And this… whatever it is overpowered his respect and devotion to his creed. That just won’t do. 

If he’s going to get rid of this thing, he has to learn to trust you.

“Din Djarin,” he says with a sigh. 

You tell him your name and the both of you feel like you’re finally starting somewhere. 

“What do we do now?” Din asks. 

“Well, we’ve established you were set up but we need to figure out why. What does this person have to gain from doing this to you?”

“I don’t know.”

“I know. I’m just thinking out loud.”

“You said this amulet is from one of the Mortis Gods?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know much about them.”

“They were just an extremely powerful family of force-wielders.”

“Where were they from?”

“Mortis.”

“Oh,” Din says, feeling kind of stupid. 

He’s not familiar with this kind of stuff— the Jedi, the Sith, the Force. As far as he’s concerned, he’s just a regular person, trying to make a living in the galaxy by bounty hunting. He didn’t piss off anyone important that he can recall. 

“Can you take me somewhere?” you ask, snapping him from his thoughts.

“Where to?”

“Coruscant. I think we need to make a little trip to the university’s library.”

He grabs his helmet off the floor and replaces it on his head. 

“Let’s go,” he says, reaching for your hand to help you out of the bunk. 

He helps you to your feet, letting you get dressed while he puts on his gloves. You follow him to the cockpit, sitting in one of the passenger seats while he prepares the Crest for takeoff. It’s silent between you two, an awkward silence. He’s unsure of what your relationship is exactly. At first, you were his prisoner. Technically, you still could be. And then he had sex with you and he feels awful about the implications in which it happened. You were handcuffed in his ship and at not only his mercy but the voice’s mercy, too. And now here you are, helping him when he’s been nothing but an asshole to you. 

Don’t think like that, the voice tells him.

He can’t listen to it now. His own guilt is louder than the voice. 

Once you’re in hyperspace he turns to you and says, “I just want to say… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For capturing you. For… what we did earlier.”

“You’re apologizing about the sex?” you ask with a smirk.

“I wasn’t sure if it was okay.”

“It was.”

“It was?”

“Stop overthinking it.”

“…Really?”

“You’re acting like I didn’t enjoy it.”

“You did?”

“Was it not obvious?”

“Yes. I mean no. I just…. I don’t know anymore.”

“Hey,” you say, leaning forward and grabbing his hand, “I know you have a lot going on in your head right now. And I’m sure a lot of it is confusing but I’m here to help in whatever way I can.”

“But why? Why do you want to help me even after I was so terrible to you?”

“I just… I feel bad. You had no idea what you were getting into. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

“Thank you,” he says softly. 

“Of course. But don’t get sappy on me.”

“Got it,” he says, spinning around in his seat and facing the control panel again. 

It doesn’t matter what you find, or what you research. You’re stuck with me. 

All he can do is close his eyes and try to drown out the voice. 

-

He’s walking side by side with you towards the university, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He’s anxious about what you’re about to find. But what’s his place from here on out? Is he supposed just to drop you off and reunite with you when you’re done? However long that will be…

Standing in front of the library, he prepares to bid you goodbye, confused about why he’s got a pit in his stomach. 

“I guess I’ll see you when you’re done?” he says, mentally wincing in anticipation of your response. 

“What? Why?”

“I just assumed-”

“You can stay.”

“I can?”

“If you want. I’m not sure how long it’ll take and it might be kind of boring but… you’re more than welcome to stay here with me.”

He pauses, thinking about what you said. He’s welcome to stay but do you want him to?

“Do you want me to?”

Kriff, he didn’t mean for that to actually come out. 

“I do.”

“Okay then,” he says, walking into the library with you. 

The library is packed with students and as you walk through the aisle picking books off the shelves, they turn their heads when you pass them by. He’s used to it but for some reason this time it makes him self-conscious, as if they’re piercing into his soul and aware of the secret he’s harboring. 

After you have your collection of books you bring him to one of the study nooks in the back of the library away from all the prying eyes. He watches how your brow furrows when you’re lost in thought, scanning the pages for anything to help him out of this mess. He feels a bit useless, watching you pour yourself over book after book for hours on end while he sits and does… nothing. 

You put your elbow on the table, resting your head in your hand. As you lean to the side, your neck becomes exposed and Din’s eyes settle right on a spot that looks like the perfect place to sink his teeth…

Stop, he tells himself. 

But he fears the voice has taken over and he’s no longer looking at you with adoring eyes, but lusting ones instead. 

Take her here, now. Bend her over the table. Who cares about anyone who sees?

His cock twitches in his flight suit and he doesn’t think he can take it anymore. 

“Din?” you ask softly, setting down your book. 

“Hm?”

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

“What do you mean? I thought you had to do research.”

“Well, yes but I can just continue researching in my office,” you say, eyes looking past Din and scanning the library. 

“Why? Are you worried about people looking at us?”

“No! No, that’s not it at all. I just wasn’t sure if you were-”

“Who cares? But if you want a little more privacy then why not?” he says, standing from his seat and gathering the books. 

He shuffles them to one arm and grabs your hand, proudly leading you out of the library without a single care in the world about who may be looking at him. 

“Where to?” he says, turning to look at you once you’re outside. 

“Across the quad in the North Tower.”

He nods and grabs you by the hand again, not caring about the people stopping to stare, many of whom are your students. You keep your eyes on Din, on the sunlight bouncing off his helmet, watching as his cape billows in the wind with his confident stride. 

He lets you take the lead once you’re inside the building, walking up a grand staircase until you arrive at your office, a large room with high vaulted ceilings and towering bookshelves. Floor-to-ceiling windows draw natural light in and a long wooden desk sits in the center of the room. He sets the book down on one of your chairs and grabs you by the waist, setting you on your desk. He grabs the waistband of your pants and practically rips them off of you. 

“So much for researching,” you say smugly, looking up at him with a grin.

“Gonna have to do something about that smart mouth of yours, mir’sheb,” he says darkly.

His hands gravitate to the bottom of his helmet. A look of realization flashes in your eyes and you reach your hands out, trying to stop him. But he’s stronger than you, grabbing your hands and forcing them by your sides. He pulls off his helmet, revealing the same matted curls and piercing purple stare. He spreads your thighs apart and kneels on the floor, face hovering over your cunt. He licks one slow stripe up your cunt before flicking his tongue around your clit. His strong arms lock around your thighs, keeping your cunt flush against his face. His eyes don’t leave yours, looking up at you as he slowly eats you out. The eye contact is intense, almost too much to bear. But when you try to look away he stops, starting to pull his face away until you look at him again. With one last swirl of his tongue around your clit, you cum against his face, thighs shaking against the desk. He laps up your release, moaning at the taste until you’re done. And now he just has to have you. 

He stands up and pulls out his cock from his flight suit, stroking it a few times before gathering some of your release with his fingers and slathering his cock with it. He reaches forward and swipes away the contents of your desk, pushing you down so you’re lying against the wood. He thrusts into you in one slow motion, staying still inside you for a moment before drawing his hips back and slamming into you repeatedly. He pulls off one glove, tossing it on the floor and bringing his thumb to your clit. One hand grips your hip while the other rubs circles around your clit. He glares down at you, his body towering over yours as he rails you against your desk. You cum around his cock, eyes locked on his once again. The sensation of your cunt gripping his cock pulls his orgasm from him, warm cum spilling inside you with a grunt. He pulls out of you and sits in your desk hair, holding his head in his hands. You scramble off the desk and reach for his helmet, kneeling in front of him and lifting his head. He looks at you with the same look in his eye like last time, like he just let himself down. You replace his helmet on his head, cupping the hollow part where his cheeks would be.

“It’s okay,” you say softly.

“I know,” he sighs, “I would just like to do… that without feeling bad.”

“About the helmet,” he quickly adds.

“I know,” you chuckle, “I’m not offended. I get it. But I can’t lie and say that the eye contact wasn’t hot.”

“It was?”

“It was. But it would be hotter if it were your choice, not the other way around.”

“Right… Thank you… for understanding.”

“Of course,” you say, rising from the floor and grabbing your pants, “But back to business.”

“Back to business,” he agrees.

-

Months go by with Din glued to your side, helping in whatever way he can with the research. You think you might have found some sort of motive behind why someone would do this to him but the question of who is still a mystery. 

“To travel to another galaxy?” Din asks.

“I think so. It’s just a theory.”

“There are other galaxies?”

“You think we’re the only one?”

“I guess not. But why?”

“That I still don’t know. And I’m just assuming about the traveling to other galaxies thing, too. The planet Mortis was said to be in a different realm.”

“Interesting…” he trails off. “How much longer do you think?”

“I’m not sure. If you think you have to get back to Nevarro, I understand.”

“I don’t want to leave you. But maybe I’ll go check the Crest for any transmissions.”

“Okay, sounds good. I’ll be here,” you say, looking up at him from your desk. 

He caresses the side of your face, his gaze lingering on you before he leaves, walking through the campus and back to the docking yard where the Razor Crest is parked. On the way there, he thinks about his time here and how one good thing came from this… you. If he’s forced to be a monster all his life, at least he has someone that understands. But then there’s the other thing… He’ll be a monster all his life, until the end of time, outliving you and anyone else he may care about. He tries not to think about that. 

Once he’s inside the ship he sees that he has a transmission from Greef Karga, which could mean one of two things; Karga’s got bounties and he’s wondering where Din is or the droid actually returned.

He presses the button for the transmission to play and listens;

“Mando! I’m not sure where you’ve been but the droid from that strange bounty returned… It didn’t bring the reward, though. It said his client will meet you where you captured the bounty in the first place. Strange request, I know. But supposedly the client will have the credits. Just be careful.”

Back to Malachor, it is. 

He bolts from the Crest, anxiously heading back to you to tell you the news. You’re where he left you, of course. 

“I have news.”

“Oh?” you ask, looking up from your book.

“I received a transmission from Karga. The droid returned. It said to meet the client on Malachor.”

“Really?”

“Yes… So what do you want to do?”

“We go to Malachor,” you say, rising from your chair.

“Let’s go,” he says, with a tip of his helmet.

As you’re sitting in the cockpit of the Razor Crest, you grab his hand as he’s preparing the ship for takeoff.

“Whatever happens… I love you, okay?”

He stops, turning to look at you, stunned by what you just said. He feels it, too, but it breaks his heart knowing that this love will end in one of two ways; he’ll outlive you or he’ll choose to take off the amulet. And both choices make him unsettled.

“I love you, too,” he says, squeezing your hand before turning to face the control panel.

This is it. Months of research have led up to this. 

-

The familiar sight of Malachor comes into view. He lands the Razor Crest by the same pyramidal stones he saw months ago. So far, no sign of anyone. Surely they’re waiting for Din in the Sith temple, ending this where it all started.

He takes you by the waist, holding you as he lowers himself down to the temple underground. He gave you a blaster before you left the Crest, turning to make sure you have it drawn before proceeding further.

As you head towards the pyramid, someone from behind you clears their throat. You both spin around, blasters drawn and ready to aim at whoever’s there. It’s a man, someone neither of you recognizes. He’s wearing all black and his hair is gray. There’s a lightsaber attached to his belt but he hasn’t drawn it… yet.

“I’ve been expecting you,” he says, glancing at Din, “It seems you brought a friend.”

“Who are you?” Din asks.

“A Sith,” you say in disgust.

“Not a Sith,” the man says, looking over at you.

“Then why did you lead us here?” Din asks.

“Din Djarin,” the man says, “Do you know the significance of that amulet you’re wearing?”

“It belonged to one of the Mortis Gods.”

“Very good. And do you know why I sent you to find it?”

“You want to use him to travel between the galaxies.”

The man looks at you again, taking a step closer.

“Clever girl,” he says, “But do you know why?”

“I know you,” you say, looking at him and the way his face is illuminated with red light from the temple behind you.

“Do you?”

“You’re… You’re Baylan Skoll.”

“Clever, clever girl. Look at the two of you, both so smart. But neither of you have answered my question… Why?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. What could you possibly be trying to find in another galaxy?” you ask.

“Mortis?” Din adds.

“So close yet so far,” Baylan tuts, “Forget about Mortis. I’m searching for Peridea.”

Din looks at you, searching for answers but the truth is… you don’t have any. 

“What do you want with Peridea?”

“To bring Grand Admiral Thrawn out of exile,” Baylan says.

“...Who?” Din asks.

“You’re funny,” you snort.

“I’m being serious. With the Mandalorian’s immortality, nothing is going to stop me.”

“Why Din?” you press.

“He doesn’t have the reputation of being the best bounty hunter in the Galaxy for no reason.”

“I can’t let you bring Thrawn back to the Galaxy,” you say, raising your blaster.

Baylan draws his lightsaber and ignites it, a vibrant orange hue emitting from the blade. Din raises his blaster, too, and a fight ensues. It doesn’t matter how much you shoot at Baylan, he just deflects all the blasts with his saber. He inches closer towards you, deflecting your blasts faster and faster as he corners you against a stone. He knows he doesn’t have to do anything to Din and he just assumes the voice will take over, forcing Din to join Baylan’s fight against you. 

Join him and kill her. Join him and kill her. Join him and kill her!!!

But Din doesn’t. 

Instead, he raises his blaster at the back of Baylan’s head. Baylan turns around, getting ready to defend himself against Din but it’s no use. With one blast to the head, Baylan falls to the ground. It turns out the urge to protect you was stronger than the voice’s pull to get him to join Baylan. 

Din rushes over to you, putting his blaster back on his hip and pulling you into his arms.

“It’s… over?” he asks, feeling your racing heartbeat.

“I think so,” you sigh. 

“But you’re stuck like this,” you say, pulling back and looking at him.

He knew it could end like this, with him living out his days without you once you pass. 

Or… There was a third option all along.

“What are you going to do?” you ask, snapping him from his thoughts.

He fiddles with the chain around his neck before saying, “Take this off when the time is right.”

You nod, leaning against him just a little bit longer before leaving the temple together, hand in hand. 

Mando dividers/support banners by @saradika-graphics !!!

Thank you to @pedgito for beta reading, reassuring me that this was any good, and helping me plot this all out 🖤

@pedrostories

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[general-cyno]

I finally got to thriller bark and of course I'm having many feelings about it, so long ramble ahead. what makes this kind of sacrifice have so much impact narrative-wise is precisely bc of which character does it and imo there was no better choice than zoro.

while his life was certainly in danger, zoro still joined luffy's crew in way less dire circumstances than most of the other straw hats and he's someone that luffy actively sought out to embark his journey with. zoro's dream of becoming of the world's greatest swordsman is one that matches luffy's own of becoming king of the pirates. this doesn't lessen the importance of the crew's dreams, but imo it's clear that there's a reason why zoro's the first to join. why luffy trusts him to take care of everyone and lead them when he's otherwise busy fighting the biggest bads, incapacitated or just not present for whatever reason and why zoro does exactly that. why, for example, he trusted zoro's judgment abt usopp coming back even though luffy was initially ready to accept him without even an apology needed.

another thing to note, which I don't think is a coincidence either, is that zoro's either been mistaken for the captain or has left ppl wondering why he isn't more than a few times already, throughout the manga. zoro's strong, a very independent guy, who already had quite the reputation before he decided to be part of luffy's crew. ppl still call him the pirate hunter. he's got a dream he's hellbent on achieving, and it's not only his, but also kuina's. he's not afraid of dying for it but it's not like he wants to, yknow? and he's never one to go down without a fight. zoro also admits during the davy back ordeal that there's no point to him being a pirate if he's not part of luffy's crew. all of these things make thriller bark so special.

this?

is zoro renouncing to his dream, his promise to kuina, to his own life - not in battle, and certainly not as a way to achieve the very dream he's forfeiting - and he's doing it to keep luffy safe. bc zoro's absolutely certain that luffy WILL become the pirate king and if zoro has to cast all that aside to make sure of it, he will. this is zoro taking all of luffy's pain as his own while protecting luffy's life and dream, putting them even above his. which, to an extent, also guarantees (from his pov, at least) the rest of the crew's safety. that's huge, so much that even kuma questions his decision.

and yeah he's protecting the crew, but it's very obvious that he's doing this for luffy. kuma points it out, as shown above, and he had already voiced out his intention to leave with luffy's head only, specifically. it's luffy's pain that zoro's willing to take on and die for.

also perhaps you'd think this seems a bit one-sided no? but if you ask me, zoro choosing to pretend nothing happened is proof that it isn't. sure, it's not like zoro's the type of character who'd boast or openly talk abt this kind of sacrifice, but this is what he said to luffy when he agreed to join him:

luffy adores his crew. he's willing to die for them, protecting and saving them always, and he takes their dreams very seriously. zoro has witnessed this from the very beginning, and also took it upon himself to remind luffy of how much they all relied on him back when usopp left the crew, so that luffy wouldn't doubt himself. imagine how luffy would've reacted or even felt knowing that zoro had done this. for him.

in hindsight, this panel from the beginning of the arc is a bit of a tragedy honestly. (still cute though!)

#zolu #tp #long post #going insane in several different ways. I already cried on twt so ofc I had to come here too #I can't think too much abt that panel of zoro tossing aside his swords (EVEN WADO!!) otherwise I'd lose it fr the brainrot is catastrophic #I was heavily spoiled abt this ages ago anyway but it still hit me like a fucking truck #I remember seeing all these posts recently wondering abt why zoro is even this devoted to luffy and like. #if anything; zoro's loyalty and devotion are a reflection of luffy's for him (and the crew) #I love them so MUCH #also just. to think luffy's always risking his everything for other ppl and this time it's zoro who keeps HIM safe. I feel crazy #jay reads op

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Happy Times

Mando x plus size reader

I’m only going to say this, Pedro Pascal’s happy trail

Warnings: HORNY THOTS, implied smut, happy trail 🫠, little bit of a size kink I’m really not sorry, degradation

WC: 708

Minors DNI

You were fully hypnotised by the sight in front of you. Mando was partially out of his armour, his chest and thigh plates had been stripped away and were placed on his bunk. It was far too hot on this godforsaken planet for any additional layers and he felt safe enough to remove them.

He was reaching up to a panel above his head, cursing as he could quite reach whatever he was looking for. But you didn’t bother to get up and help, nope, you were perched on a small step stool, Grogu passed out next to you and Mando’s tools on your other side.

Your jaw was fully hanging open, your eyes wide, and there might have been a tiny bit of drool by the corner of your mouth. Why were you like this you may wonder? Well that’s because Mando’s shirt was ever so slightly too short on him so every time he reached up above his head, his shirt would ride up and expose a small sliver of skin just above the hem of his pants.

But even more than that, his pants were slightly too big for him so the top sagged, letting you see the glorious thatch of dark hair at the base of his pelvis. And if your eyes dropped just a little lower, you swore you could see-

“Hand me the wrench please.” His helmet was tilted down towards you and you froze. Your entire body came to light with embarrassment at having been caught ogling the bounty hunter.

“Um yeah here.” You handed him the tool and shamefully dropped your eyes to the floor, wanting to simply melt into the metal to escape his knowing gaze. 

It certainly wasn’t the first time you had been staring at the Mandalorian, in fact, you stared at him every chance you could get. Sure, he was huge, big enough to scare people away by just standing in a slightly menacing way, but he was also protective and kind. Plus his voice was sexy as hell. But, this was the first time you had been caught and it made you feel ashamed.

You gasped as a warm finger curled under your soft chin, forcing you to look up. When had he taken off his gloves? “You handed me a screwdriver. You seem distracted, mesh’la, what’s going through that pretty head of yours?” A shiver of desire rolled down your spine as he towered over you, his massive body blocking the light from the setting sun.

Suddenly, there were no thoughts left in your brain besides him. You could almost feel his smirk from behind the shiny metal of his helm. “I wonder what has you so preoccupied? What could possibly be making you so dumb that you gave me a screwdriver and not a wrench, like I asked for?” His tone was so condescending, it made you feel even smaller but there was no true malice in it.

His hand slipped from your chin when you didn’t answer him, instead he cupped your jaw with his massive paw, squeezing just tightly enough to make you gasp. “When I ask you a question, you answer me.”

“Y-yes Mando.” You stammered out, your thighs squeezing together at the pure dominance and power he radiated. He rewarded you with a gentle stroke of his thumb along your jawline.

“That’s a good girl.” He purred as he bent down so his face was level with yours, only a few inches of perfectly buffed metal between you. “Now are you going to tell me what was so distracting or am I going to have to pry it out of you?”

Hundreds of images flashed behind your eyes, each one more smutty than the last as you imagined what exactly he could do to you to get you to talk. Wetness pooled between your shapely legs, soaking through the flimsy panties you wore. “I think you want it the hard way but I need to hear you say it. Beg for it.”

You swallowed thickly, the words getting caught in your throat. Another squeeze freed them. “Please Mando, I want you so badly.” A modulated frown came through the speakers of his helmet before he spoke again.

“Good girl.”

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[alltheirdamn]

A Bounty for Reward (Mando x f!reader)

CHAPTER 2

Summary: Mando finds himself back on Tatooine... unable to let you go. Warnings: mentions of drugs, violence, death, weapons, language, Mando being an unusual softie Word count: 4k A/N: I know it's a slow burn... please stay with me; I promise it'll get better! Also, there will be no Grogu in this fic... babies tend to ruin all the fun lol

The Mandalorian didn’t know why he returned to Tatooine. He didn’t know why he had reset the navigation from Nevarro back to the damned desert planet, but he sat in the silence of the Razor Crest, plotting his arrival. 

Every bounty was the same to him: a job. 

Never had he been so handicapped by one until she fell into his lap as a puck for a high reward. She was unlike other bounties, though, not a criminal in the sense he was used to. Most bounties he was given were high-profile criminals, assassins, imperial sympathizers… but she wasn’t any of the above. From what Karga had told him, she was simply a runaway employee for a very wealthy man. And the Mandalorian didn’t ask questions. He never did. 

The navigation panel flashed red, signaling the ship's deceleration as it neared the planet’s atmosphere. The Mandalorian took a deep breath, exhaling through the modulator and filling the dead air with his frustration. He wasn’t frustrated with her, but rather himself. 

For letting a fucking bounty take up so much space in his mind. 

When the Crest finally touched down on the dunes of Mos Eisley, the Mandalorian was already trudging down the docking ramp before it could fully open. He was well aware of the city's layout and knew exactly where to start looking for the bounties’ employer. Kesi Jissard was unfamiliar, yet Mando knew enough people in the crime ring to find him. He started the search in the lone cantina on the eastern edge of the city. The cantina stood without a name; the crowd within its walls spoke for itself. Though he was not on a hunt for anyone sleazing about inside the cantina, it didn’t mean there weren’t a few scared criminals. A few begged for the challenge; they begged to triumph over a Mandalorian. But none would come close to winning a victory over him– and they wouldn’t dare get close enough to try. With beady eyes following his every move, Mando approached the bar. 

“Hey, shiny,” emerged a voice amidst the clamor around him. The Mandalorian turned slowly, hand resting on the blaster at his side. 

Leaning against the bar counter was a Twi’Lek, their body hardly covered by their dance attire. They smiled, a grin far too deceiving for the innocence their body language spoke. He sized them up, considering the level of threat they could pose. Deciding the mildness of their demeanor, the Mandalorian’s hand slid away from his blaster– but close enough in reach if needed. 

“I’m looking for information,” he was curt. The Twi’Lek smiled, bearing white teeth that flashed against their pale blue skin. Reaching over, they pet the fabric of his gloved hand, mischief lingering in their actions. Quick in response, the Mandalorian pulled his hand back, settling into a tense stance against the bar counter. 

“Hmph,” the Twi-Lek frowned, “Information costs money around here, ya know?”

The Mandalorian sighed heavily, his shoulders rising and falling as his chest exhaled. Digging into the side of his pilot suit, the Mandalorian retrieved a small pouch of credits. Tossing them onto the counter, he waited for the Twi’Lek to speak again. After considering the credit amount, the Twi’Lek smiled, eyes scanning over the bounty hunter’s body. 

“What’d you wanna know, hun?” They spoke in long drawls. 

“Kesi Jissard, who is he?” He asked. There was a grit under his tone, one of desperation and impatience. 

The Twi’Lek squirmed at the name, looking visibly uncomfortable. Their voice was a low hush, responding to the Mandalorian’s question. 

“He’s a prominent spice trader on Tatooine,” they began. “He works directly for the Pyke’s, or so I’ve heard. He’s not someone you should go looking for.”

“Where is he?” He pushed. 

Their eyes grew wide, staring around the bar that swarmed with more bodies. The Mandalorian knew who was and wasn’t watching, assuring himself that no one was interested in his business. They were all far too busy looking innocent in their booths and tables, hoping the bounty hunter would escort himself out of the cantina. 

“I don’t know where he is,” they said, voice an octave higher than before. His body went rigid, hoping the bartenders wouldn’t interrupt their conversation. “But if I did know,” they continued, “He would be hiding in his junkyard on the town's southern border. It’s riddled with his employees, though. No one gets in there without an invitation.”

His helmet cocked to the side, a bit amused by them thinking he would need an invitation. His armor and weapons were an invitation in and of itself; it called for an audience. One that Kesi would provide. 

“If you try to go in there, you’ll die,” the Twi’Lek grabbed his arm. The Mandalorian shifted his gaze to their tiny fingers wrapped around his bicep. It was a kind gesture, unnecessary to Mando, but a kind effort nonetheless. 

Leaving the Crest on the east border of Eisley, the Mandalorian opted for one of the speeders found nicely parked outside the cantina. It didn’t concern him whose speeder he stole but just that it had enough speed to make it to the southern border before dusk fell over the horizon. As the dust kicked up behind him, the Mandalorian mentally cursed himself for letting this girl take up so much of his time. She wasn’t anything special, just another bounty– he tried to remind himself of these things. But even for a fucking bounty… she managed a way into his brain. Into his bloodstream. And it made him dangerous. He was willing to go to great lengths to ensure she was okay. 

“Dank farrik,” he cursed, finally arriving at the junkyard. 

The size of the junkyard wasn’t what he anticipated; the corners of it reached for miles. He switched on the zoom lens of his helmet, scanning the perimeter. He counted eight, maybe nine, men that were scattered across the grounds. He could see the ship hangar in the middle, part of the roof exposed to erosion. Switching out of the zoom lens, the Mandalorian turned to the thermal reader, hoping it would pick up on the familiar outline of the body that plagued his brain. He only had her in his possession for less than two days; why was she the only thing he could think about? And why did he feel so much rage when he finally saw the heat traces of her body, crowded by other silhouettes in red and yellow auras? 

The rage turned his vision red, guiding his body blindly into the junkyard. His senses were heightened, eyes wildly aware of every pair of footsteps ingrained into the sand. Bodies radiated towards him as if his armor were a magnet for violence. Each attempt to kill him was returned with a downpour of shots from his blaster. The Mandalorian was a better shot and far more accurate than the employers of Kesi. They were subpar, and it was beyond him to understand how the Twi’Lek described this place as a death wish. Perhaps his anger was so strong nothing would stop him. 

The odds were in his favor as he managed his way closer to the hanger, now finding himself at the entrance. It was an open space, the scattered remains of speeders and ships littering the floor. His helmet picked up thermal traces of bodies that began to swarm around the perimeter, his armor working against his efforts to stay hidden. 

“Hey!” someone shouted, blaster fire softly following suit. 

The Mandalorian ducked behind a stack of cargo crates, pulling his blaster from its holster. He remained level-headed, breathing even and cool as he emerged from the blockade and returned fire. His shots landed deep in the bodies of the spice traders that ran at him, their reaction time no match for his. His skill set and years of hunting created very little opportunity for being stopped; the Mandalorian was an enigma unbeknown to the world around him.

While blaster fire bounced off the chest plate that hugged his body, the Mandalorian continued forward, sending bodies rippling against the ground. Though the threats came less, he understood that his presence was becoming more well-known throughout the junkyard. 

Managing his way into the hangar, two familiar bodies crowded the girl's body. He didn’t like them before— he especially didn’t like them now. Jado turned towards his looming figure, quickly drawing a knife from his waistband.

“You got what you wanted!” Jado yelled, allowing a large distance between himself and the Mandalorian. 

The Mandalorian could shoot him on the spot, and nothing stopped him from doing so, yet he enjoyed the hunt. He enjoyed the fear in a man’s eye as he tracked him down, the way their hands shook as they gripped their weapons. 

“C’mon Mando,” Jado released a shaky excuse of a laugh, “Does this mean more to you than credits?”

Gaff held her head up, shaking it until it fell limp against her shoulder. Anger crawled up Mando’s spine, and his muscles tensed as he watched the way her body slumped aim the chair. She was more than unconscious; he knew that for sure. She was overdosing. 

His brain disconnected from logic, sending dueling shots into Jado and Gaff’s heads. Their bodies careened back, and the sound of them falling was the only noise to register amid the chaos. 

She was nearly lifeless in the chair she was bound to, her hands a pale purple as they twisted between the bindings. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, hands working at releasing the ropes. 

Her body tilted sideways, and he managed to catch her and yank her into his hold before she slipped onto the floor. Her eyes rolled slightly, the whites of them the only thing visible. Yes, Mando was scarcely afraid, but holding her limp body was fucking terrifying. 

“C’mon,” he baited, hand tapping her cheek lightly. The only response was another roll of her eyes and the lull of her head falling to the opposite side. Maker, he thought, what fucking drug was this? 

Knowing there was little time left to reverse the effects and any long-term damages, Mando pulled her into his arms, hugging her tight to his chest as he maneuvered the way out of the junkyard. He kept one arm grasping her and the other hovering over his blaster. He had yet to see Kesi again, and when he did, Kesi would be covered in blaster fire.

Mando silently swore to himself that he would hunt him down. He would kill Kesi in the slowest possible way, a small consequence for the crimes he committed— both throughout the galaxy and to her.

Her body weighed heavy in his arms as he pulled her off the speeder and up into the cargo hold of the Crest. Laying her on the metal floor, Mando searched for a pulse under her jaw. It was faint. Even through the gloves, he could feel its flutter pushing against her skin. A sigh of relief left the modulator as he searched the cargo hold for his med supplies. Working alone meant caring for himself, which led him to learn how to heal various injuries. Scouring through the various medical kits and devices, his hands landed on a stack of adrenaline patches— ones potent enough to shock her system awake. 

Returning to her comatose body, Mando observed her face, noticing her lips changing from a pale pink to a pale blue. The oxygen was fading from her lungs, and her breathing became shallow and labored. He said her name over and over, hoping to elicit any response. Even as he pulled on her eyelids to check her eyes, there was nothing but white staring back at him. 

Under the layers of armor and cloth undergarments, the Mandalorians' temperature rose until he was sweltering from stress. He was running out of time, and somewhere inside himself, he was mad. Mad that he ever took her bounty, mad that he ever handed her over, mad that he hadn’t turned around fast enough. She wasn’t a criminal; she was just a girl. He knew nothing of her, yet he knew she didn’t deserve the life she had surrendered to. And she surely didn’t deserve to die.

Taking out a blade from his weaponry belt, Mando began cutting away at her top, the sweat-stained fabric giving away easily at the tug of the sharp metal. He gave no attention to her exposed chest; mind focused on placing the adrenaline patches in the right spot. Peeling away at the adhesive, Mando placed one right above her heart, the other at the pulse on her neck. Connecting the patches to the pressure resuscitator, he inhaled sharply, pressing the button on the buzzing machine.

Her chest jolted upwards, the sound of the resuscitator whirring louder. There was no change in her body, her condition remaining the same. Mando’s breath grew shaky, pressing the resuscitator one more time. Again, her body jolted yet stayed still on the recoil downwards. He waited for her breathing to steady, and the waiting felt like an eternity. He peeled away the patches, their adhesive leaving a red rash on her skin. The leather of his gloves skated over the raised skin, feeling the warmth of her body returning slowly. 

“Maker,” he sighed, falling back on his heels. He watched silently as she inhaled larger bouts of air, her chest rising higher with each. 

She was going to be okay.

Mando stayed in the cargo hold beside her body for some time, waiting quietly for her to wake up. His mind reeled with various thoughts that were a mixture of guilt and anger. Never had he felt guilty about a bounty before; they all were just a sack of credits in his eyes. His job was to hunt; that’s all he ever knew. He had been trained as a foundling never to grow attachments and always to stay loyal to his Clan and Creed. And he had done everything right by the Way, going so far as never to show his face to anyone. 

He had left behind his home and his parents, lost in the war against the Separatists. The last thing he could remember of his parents were their frightened faces as they hid him within a bomb shelter. It was so long ago now that he could scarcely remember what they looked like; flashes of his mother's face came and went in his memories. He knew nothing but the life of the Mandalorians after that, his world shifting into the lifestyle that his Clan taught him. 

Mando had kept his focus on the guild for years, his life as a bounty hunter more important than anything else. He traveled the galaxy alone and enjoyed the company of himself. He rarely interacted with anyone other than his bounties and fellow guild members. But he was here now, anticipating when she would wake, eager to hear her voice again.

Hours went by without a glimpse of any sign of her waking, and Mando grew worrisome. Rechecking her pulse, he assured himself that she would be fine and that the overdose would wear off eventually. But he was anxious seeing her so still and quiet, and he wanted nothing more than to know she would be okay. He knew very little of the various spices that floated through the galaxy, but he knew enough to know that this spice was more lethal than any other. If at all, Mando didn’t even know a spice this potent existed. It wasn’t meant for recreation; it was meant for drugging. His mind spiraled with thoughts of what Kesi had planned to do with her while she existed helplessly on the high of this drug.

Mando shifted over her, swiping her hair from her forehead. He spoke her name softly, coaxing any reaction from her. There was a shift in her body, her head slightly falling to the side. His hand cradled her face, watching as her eyes fluttered open.

Her reaction was exactly as he imagined: abrupt and alarming. She scrambled from his touch, her body crawling back into a corner near the armory wall. Mando didn’t move, allowing her to reconnect with the world around her. Her breaths came out in loud pants, the oxygen intake too much for her after so many hours of shallow breathing. She said nothing, only watched him with bloodshot eyes. 

“You’re okay,” the Mandalorian finally spoke. “You’re okay.”

“What the fuck did you do to me?” She demanded, her bare chest heaving. Mando forced his eyes away from her skin, steadying his gaze on hers. She was mortified and, most of all, angry. 

“Calm down,” he urged. Idiot. “You’re safe.”

“Safe?” She repeated. “Safe?”

Mando stood, giving her the space she needed. She tugged her torn shirt over her chest, the rashes from the adrenaline patches still prominent on her sweating skin. She was disheveled, but Mando couldn’t deny she was still beautiful. There was a ruggedness to her— a past that sculpted her tough exterior. Mando wanted to know more. 

For the first time, he cared. 

And he didn’t understand why. 

“They drugged you,” he huffed.

Her bloodshot eyes tracked him upwards, and her mouth parted as if she wanted to make another jostled remark. But she remained silent, her chest still heaving as she regained oxygen to her lungs.

“You came back,” she whispered after several moments.

Mando only offered a brief nod, not trusting himself with words.

“Why?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

He had no explanation for what he did; it was impulsive and so fucking stupid. But the need to protect her swelled inside himself the longer he lingered in her presence. He tilted his head towards the refresher, and her eyes followed.

“Refresher’s that way,” he said. “You can get yourself cleaned up.”

“Oh,” her lips formed a dangerous pout. Mando thought about what it would feel like to have them wrapped around—no. 

He turned towards the ladder for the cockpit, too on edge to stare at her face longer. She had just about died from a spice overdose, and he was picturing all the ways she could come undone… maker, what a fucking idiot. His fists clenched at his sides before he ascended the ladder.

“Mando!” her voice carried through the silence.

He turned hesitantly. 

“Thank you,” she said. “For saving me.”

Mando nodded and disappeared into the cockpit.

**

He had come back.

The Mandalorian had come back.

Any second later, and you would have been dead. 

You didn’t know if you should be thankful or scared; what did he want from you now? You had begged him to keep you out of sheer fear of the outcome with Kesi’s men. But you had meant it, right? This was a better situation than death, but how long did you have? Mando had the credits, but you were still a bounty. 

Your head was foggy as you stumbled towards the refresher, acutely aware of your shirt in tatters. Had Mando seen your breasts? Something inside your core stirred awake with that possibility, but you shoved it back into your mind. The refresher door hissed open, revealing a small space with only a toilet, a grimy mirror, and a shower. It was compact and clean, telling of how Mando lived his life. Everything had its place, and you feared ruining his lifestyle. What he wanted to do next with you… well, that was up to him.

All you could focus on now was taking a fucking shower and washing off all the dirt and sweat from your skin. The water ran cold at first, nipping at your skin as it pelted down in a steady rhythm. You kept to the corner of the refresher until it started to steam, and then finally, let the water run over your body. Swirls of brown coasted down the ceramic floor of the refresher, the day ridding itself into the drain. You dipped your hair back, letting the water soak you completely. But it wasn’t until your eyes drifted close that the memories started to invade your senses again.

Kesi’s dirty grin.

The taste of the spice.

Your erratic heartbeat and slipping consciousness.

Mando’s soft voice.

It all kept coming in waves until you found yourself slipping down onto the refresher floor, clinging to your body with fresh tears stinging your eyes. You may be free of Kesi—for now—but you weren’t free.

And you wondered if you had just traded one shitty life for another.

Time blurred as you continued to sit under the pelting spray of the refresher, your eyes boring into the white walls until the world around you faded into nothing. The water had long since run cold, and your body was riddled with goosebumps and wrinkles. But you felt paralyzed by nagging thoughts and memories; you really couldn’t muster the energy to move.

A sharp bang came from the other side of the door, forcing you to jolt against the tiled wall, slamming your elbow into the corner of the refresher.

“Fuck!” You hissed. 

“Are you okay in there?” Mando’s voice was rough and oddly laced with a hint of concern.

“Yeah,” you called out. “Yeah, I’m fine. M’sorry, lost track of time.”

There was a beat of silence, and you wondered if you couldn’t hear him speak over the sound of the water. Standing to shut it off, you wrapped your arms around your body and waited silently.

“Left some clothes outside the door for you,” he said. “I’ll be back in the cockpit.”

You waited for the sound of his heavy footsteps to move away from the door, and once you heard the snap of the cockpit door closing, you finally reached out to retrieve the clothes. An oversized sleep shirt and tight black pants were stacked together, and you wondered where in the hell Mando had gotten them from. They were your size, absolutely, but were they someone else’s?

The thought of another woman here with him left you irrationally jealous, even if you knew nothing about him. Why should you care about a bounty hunter? 

But the bigger question… why did he care about you?

You shook away the thought and changed quickly, your body still sore in some areas. The mirror was still fogged from the shower, but you wiped away some condensation just to glance at yourself. Your skin was paler than normal, and a dark hue rimmed around your eyes. 

You looked fucking terrible. 

Smoothing down your hair, you finally exited the refresher, taking in the ship around you. The cargo hold was quiet, a few empty crates scattered around the floor. The interior was made of strong metal, and there was a distant whirring from the carbonite chamber. You shivered at the thought of being forced into it, the endless coldness that would wrap around you. At any point, the Mandalorian could still do that. You weren’t sure what he thought of you–a bounty, a burden, a person to discard. 

Were you better off here than with Kesi?

Your mind drifted back once again to the junkyard on Tatooine. The feeling of his hands on your jaw, the wild look in his eyes–

“How’re you feeling?” A gruff voice came from behind you.

You jumped at Mando’s voice and turned to see him leaning against the ladder. You felt small in his presence, the dim light around you bouncing off his shiny beskar. His posture was lax, and he observed you silently as you shifted nervously. 

“Better. Yeah, better. Thank you.”

He dipped his helm slowly, elongating the silence between you. You shifted again under his gaze, hands twisting in the sleep shirt that hung off your body. 

“Good.”

“Um, Mando. Why–why did you come back?” You asked your eyes on the floor. “You had your reward.”

Mando shifted his body, his arms crossed over his broad chest. Again, there was a steady beat of silence between you as he watched you squirm under his gaze. 

“I don’t know.”

It was all he offered. But it wasn’t enough. 

“What happens now?” You asked. 

“I have to meet with someone,” he explained. “You’ll stay here.”

He didn't give you time to respond before he retired to the cockpit, leaving you alone in the silence.

#mando #mando x reader #mando x f!reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader

[nahoney22]

Short in Statute, Big in Heart

All Bad Batch Boys X GN!Reader

Sometimes your height gets you a little upset, but your boyfriend will do anything to make you feel on top of the world.

Warnings: mentions of insecure reader because of height, mainly fluff, established relationships, gender neutral reader, short reader (you’re all beautiful), minor injury, over protective boys, kisses and cuddles. Not proofread.

Authors note: hope yous don’t mind that I merged the requests, just saves me from doing two separate things of the same prompt ❤️ enjoy anon and @carodealmeida and sorry for the wait! Also, not my best work. Got a little lost along the way.

Echo

Echo didn’t care about your height at all. But, once he sees that it starts to bother you, he has to wonder why.

“Something the matter my love?” He asks you one afternoon once you’re both alone, nestled up in your shared bunk with your head on his shoulder.

“What do you mean?” You ask, resting your chin on his chest to look towards him.

“Can’t help but notice you’ve been feeling a little down about your height.”

You blink at him and subtly frown. “Was that a pun?”

Echo’s etches with confusion but then chuckles at the realisation of what he said. “Not at all intentional. But still, is it?”

You sigh and flop onto your back with a heavy breath. “Kind of. I feel like I get in the way sometimes.”

“I can assure you that isn’t the case.” He explains softly, draping his arm over your stomach to offer some comfort.

“Echo, a few nights ago you bumped into me and said ‘sorry, I didn’t see you there’.”

His face contorts, a wave of guilt flooding through him. “I’m sorry cyare. I didn’t mean it, I just wasn’t expecting you to be there.” He doesn’t know if he’s making it better or worse but your silence didn’t exactly answer his thoughts either.

So instead, he scoops you back to him and kisses your forehead over and over. “I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?”

You roll your eyes but a smile does flit on your lips. “If you keep kissing my face, maybe I’ll forgive you.” You say teasingly, a wave of relief releasing from Echo’s shoulders as he does what exactly you want, peppering your face in small apologies.

Hunter

Hunter loves you unconditionally. He loves your smile, eyes and heart and has to admit he finds you very cute wether it be down to your size or not. However, your height has both its advantages and disadvantages that had Hunter a worried mess.

So often you would put yourself first to cram yourself into any small gap for the team and each time makes Hunter almost throw up. He would pace back and forth, constantly connected to you via comm and whinges to himself for letting you do something dangerous even though you are yet to have an incident.

“Something on your mind?” You ask him after a successful mission, one that had you sneaking through vents to allow access for the team.

“Nah,” he says dismissively, giving you a smile but you can tell it’s completely forced.

“Hunter.” You look up at him, hands on your hips that showed that you demanded a straight answer.

He sighs before he sits down and wrings his hands together. “I worry about you on missions.”

“Oh not this again, honey.” You shake your head with a sigh.

“I know, I know. But I just can’t help but worry that something will happen to you and I’ll have no access to getting you.” He rubs the back of his head, hoping you’d see his point.

“I get that Hunter, I do. But who else was going to get to that control panel? Tech had no way to hack in and you think Wrecker was gonna weasel his way through the vents? I don’t think so, sweetie.” You stand in front of him, cupping his cheek before planting a soft kiss to his lips. “I’ll be fine. Trust me?”

He kisses you back gently, somewhat reassured by your words. “Always. But I’m still going to worry. As a leader and as your boyfriend.”

Wrecker

When you told Wrecker you liked him he could not control himself when he scooped you up into his arms and planted a sweet kiss to your lips. But then it became a problem. Not because you didn’t want to not kiss him because you did, a lot, it was because the height difference was becoming a problem.

If it’s not him picking you up to kiss you, it’s him crouching down to kiss you. You could never just kiss him without asking unless he was sat down.

Similar to Echo, you were both laying in your shared bunk when Wrecker noticed your glum expression. “Ya okay there?” He asks softly, his large hand coming across to cup your cheek softly and turn your head to face him.

“Does… does my height bother you?” You ask him simply and non surprisingly, he shook his head.

“ ‘Course not!” He exclaims, “is it a problem for you?”

You fiddle with your thumbs and shrug a little. “Sometimes.”

“What makes ya say that?” He frowns.

“Wrecker, you can only kiss me by bending down…. Or you picking me up.” You explain softly, hoping you didn’t offend him.

He nods slowly, releasing quickly why that could be an issue but never one he personally had an issue with because the result still ends up in getting a kiss from you. “I wish I could make myself shorter, but I can’t baby.”

You smile softly, “I know, don’t worry.”

Then, an idea pops into his head. “You could kiss me now.”

You look over at him and sure as anything, your head was level with his without either of you moving. It was perfect. You’re quick to close the gap, savouring the feeling of his lips on yours. “That’s better.”

Tech

Tech didn’t mind your height, neither seeing it a problem or something to take huge note. However, the height difference was quite obvious to him as your wrap your arms around his body, hugging him close where he can barely wrap his arms around you without it crushing your head.

But when you voice you get a little down about your height, he is perplexed to why. “You being shorter than others is not a bad thing. You are perfectly healthy and so it should not be something to upset you.”

“Yeah, I know,” you roll your eyes at your boyfriend but grateful for his words, “I just wish I was a little taller.”

“I believe on some planets people undergo leg-lengthening surgery if that is something that takes your interest.” He looks at you over his goggles, seeing the very much disinterested look on your face. “I’d… rather not.”

He chuckles and reaches out to take your hand, bringing you close. “Darling, you’re fine as you are.” He leans in and places a kiss to your cheek. “Or perhaps I could buy you some stilts?”

His sass made you belly laugh and playfully hit his arm. Though, you’re still very grateful that he loves you regardless.

Crosshair

“Can’t reach?” Crosshairs words from behind you make you pause in your reach up to a higher shelf on the ship, looking over your shoulder at him.

“You know more than well that I can’t reach up there. Why does that medkit have to be in such a stupid place?” Although he was ready to tease you, something he usually did in regard to your height (in a loving yet playful way - he wouldn’t ever go to far to the point he would upset you), his eyes flash with concern.

“What do you need it for?” He walks over straight away, standing behind you as he reaches up and grabs what you’ve been struggling to reach.

“I… hit my head.”

“Let me see,” he makes you face him, bringing you closer to his body and you’re only met with his chest as his fingers trace through your hair and when you let out a wince, he stops and inspects the injury. “You’ve got a small cut.”

“Yeah, I know.” You pull back from your boyfriend, starting to rummage through the kit as he stands with his arms now folded over his chest.

“Were you under a control panel? Again?” He raises his questions and you could only give him a sheepish smile.

“Tech said-.”

“I don’t care what Tech said,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “just because your short is not a reason for you to cram yourself into parts of the ship.”

You roll your eyes, noticing his protectiveness which he isn’t shy about showing with you. “It had to be done.”

You hear him mumble something under his breath and you’re pretty sure it was along the lines of something about Tech getting a cut on his head. “Stop sulking.” You order him, earning a small glare but knows he won’t win with you. So instead, he grabs your thighs and lifts you onto the counter and takes actions into his own hands and helps patch you up.

“Grumpy pants.” You smirk up at him.

“Short arse.”

Masterlist

My Ko-Fi if any feels like buying me a wee tea one day 💜

Tags: @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @cwarssimp @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @megafrost4 @theroguesully @mustluvecho @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur r @seriowan @agenteliix @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @imalovernotahater @crystal076 @blustalker @the-good-shittt @s1st3r @by-the-primes @the-bad-batch-baroness

#bad batch x reader #the bad batch x reader #nahoney22 writes #bad batch boys x reader #tbb x reader #the bad batch #bad batch headcanons

[barrenclan]

Been following Barrenclan since the initial generator video, but I've never sent an ask until now. But I felt like I had to now because this latest issue left me in shambles 🩵 (this IS a compliment, you are such an excellent writer)

Asphodelpaw was one of my favorites (especially because I'm also ace and it's just nice seeing that representation), so seeing her get killed by her own uncle is. OW. GOD. FUCK MAN. Tore all my heartstrings out. (I'm. Hoping with everyone else that she isn't dead, but considering Rainhaze was able to kill Dustfeather with a single hit and DF was fully grown, *and* that was *before* the Defiance lifestyle. Yeah. Yeah…)

But something occurred to me after I read and studied the last few pages. I remembered people speculating on Asphodel's potential death, and someone suggested that Asphodel might get in trouble for using friendly-friendly on something that was very *not* friendly. And I think in a way, that's exactly what happened.

Asphodelpaw saw her long-lost uncle and was of course overjoyed, asking him what happened, where he's been, etc. Being *friendly* with him because, why wouldn't you be? Everything her Clan's said about Rainhaze was super positive: he was a great hunter, a great friend, a great warrior.

You'd assume they'd be exactly the same, and especially in the euphoric haze of assuming they're *dead* and being *wrong.*

But he wasn't the same.

She was friendly-friendly with something that *wasn't* friendly. At least, not anymore…

That's not even going into how I think Rainhaze subconsciously picked his mom to kill because of how she treated Slugpelt and him (especially with those little past panels with him and his sister in this issue) and. God. GOD, this comic is so good.

Sorry for the super long ramble, I just love this comic immensely and I'm SO ready for all the shit to hit the fan (No I'm not, the end of the comic is going to destroy me). Take all the time you need to and don't forget to take breaks!

Don't apologize for talking at length about my comic! It's always welcome! Also, wow, thanks for following since the beginning! That's cool. And I really like your analysis on that idea! Rainhaze seems to bring out the talkative in people.

#ask #anon #rainhaze #asphodelpaw #analysis

[thefrogdalorian]

The Best of Both Worlds - Chapter Four

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

❁ Series Masterlist ❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Word Count: 6822 Rating: General Summary: Despite his reservations and against his better instincts, Din heads to a Star Wars convention that he was invited to. Although he fears that his cover will be blown, curiosity gets the best of Din and he can't resist attending a panel. But Din doesn't exactly find the answers he was looking for. Instead, he finds something far more precious. Something that he would never have expected... Content Warnings:  None! Author's Note: This was fun to write. Middle pic is one I took in a panel at SWC last year, just to set the scene. Din was down bad from minute one and honestly it's very cute to see him so flustered 🥺!! Also adorable how similar their experiences/reactions to the convention were! Anyway, hope you enjoyed! I can't wait to post the next chapter, hopefully coming on Sunday :) Thanks again @suresnips for being my beta! I appreciate your help so, so much ♡

4. Curiosity Killed The Cat (Din's POV)

To an observer with no background knowledge of Star Wars or its fandom, it would appear that most of The Mandalorian panel's attendees were merely a little bored. However, someone more familiar with the Star Wars world may have realised that the audience had been expecting something more profound. Maybe they had been hoping for some character analysis of the titular character or to participate in a larger discussion on how the show slotted into the wider Star Wars galaxy during this talk. After all, the panel was entitled: ‘The Man behind the Mandalorian: Exploring the Identity of the Galaxy’s Best Bounty Hunter.’

Instead, anyone who had sought out this panel surely would have found themselves bitterly disappointed, as the host had reduced The Mandalorian to nothing more than its violent action scenes. The host appeared to have a fixation on the fighting which occasionally took place in the show, at the expense of all other elements. 

Perhaps that was the reason why the audience, on the whole, looked so incredibly bored. Even one attendee, wearing an almost unbelievably realistic cosplay, seemed more entertained by the seams of his gloves than anything the panel had to say about the show he was surely such a huge fan of. His helmet was bowed towards the floor as his leg bounced up and down repeatedly, a sure sign of his restlessness and his keenness for this panel to be over so he could continue his day at the convention.

To outside observers – whether they knew everything about Star Wars or nothing at all – the man dressed in full Mandalorian armour was possibly one of the biggest fans of the show. After all, he had replicated Mando's costume in painstaking detail; it must have taken an unbelievable amount of effort and hours, borne out of the intense love for The Mandalorian that he surely had.

But Din Djarin was not a cosplayer… his armour was not a costume.

The suit that he wore had not been crafted due to his undying love for Star Wars, it had been cast in Beskar, according to ancient traditions, at a forge by the golden-haired woman who served as The Armorer for his tribe.

It felt strange to Din for him to sit there and be spoken about as if he was not present. Of course, to everyone else in the room, the notion of Mando being in the room with them seemed as likely to happen as it was for pigs everywhere to spontaneously begin flying. To all other attendees, Din had just cosplayed as his favourite character. Everyone else in the room did not have the faintest idea that they were in fact in the presence of the man behind the character they all loved. While the assembled group enjoyed Mando enough that they had made their way to the far corner of the enormous convention hall for this panel, they didn’t know that sitting amongst them was the man who portrayed the Star Wars character that they loved so much. Nor that the armour that they had seen so many times on their screens was right there, beside them. Close enough to touch, if they wanted to.

The thought of being amongst so many super fans almost dissuaded Din from attending this panel, which had caught his eye. After deciding to attend the convention the previous evening, Din had used his laptop to search through the events for the day as he lounged on the couch in his cottage, Grogu playing on the rug beside him. This particular panel had instantly stuck out to him, above all others that were advertised. Din had always harboured a curiosity about what The Mandalorian meant to people. But it was perhaps a more selfish interest that had motivated him to seek out this panel in particular: Din wanted to know whether the fans had any idea about his identity.

Din had intended to sneak in and hover at the back and watch the panel from there before exiting as discreetly as he entered. But things had not gone according to that plan at all. Din had never attended an event as enormous as this and had no idea how it worked – he felt out of his depth. It was a feeling he was unused to and uncomfortable with, as Din always liked to be in control and have a plan. 

Ironically, it was the very show which was being discussed that had first put cracks into his careful, considered nature. Relinquishing some of that control in signing up to be The Mandalorian had been difficult for Din, as he was required to be on set for a strict filming schedule in a brand new country. The stability and money that had been offered was something Din had struggled to refuse, especially given the fact he now had an extra mouth to feed.

But as Din sat there in the room where the panel was being held, he knew that coming here had all been one gigantic, terrible mistake. It was a stupid, nonsensical idea. It had been nothing more than a rush of blood to the head, Din just hoped he would be able to leave again having remained undetected. There was an old saying that Din had heard many times: ‘Curiosity killed the cat.’ Now, Din felt as though he finally understood that phrase. 

Din was furious with himself that he had put himself in the position to hear such harsh words about the show after he had tried so hard to keep himself away from all of the attention portraying a lead role in a Star Wars show brought. For a man who was usually so calculating and meticulous in his actions, this had surely been the most foolish decision that Din had made in a long while.

Even worse than Din's decision to attend this panel, he mused, was his decision to attend the convention wearing his armour. Being surrounded by superfans made Din keenly aware that if any one of their gaze were to linger long enough, perhaps they would realise that his armour was not merely a highly impressive cosplay. So in a bid to distract himself and calm his racing heart, he began fiddling with the stitching of the tips of his mustard-coloured gloves. It was a sign of the acute anxiety that he was currently enduring, but to anyone watching, his fidgeting probably indicated sheer boredom. 

Din mentally kicked himself for the ridiculous decision to attend the convention wearing his armour. The choice had made the entire event even more anxiety-inducing than it needed to be. Din lamented the fact that he could have come here with Grogu and simply blended in with the thousands of other families bringing their children to the convention for a fun-filled day. True, it would have still been an overwhelming experience and Grogu may have struggled with the crowds, but at least then, Din wouldn’t have had to constantly fear his identity being exposed when someone realised that his armour was a little too screen-realistic to be a simple cosplay. 

Indeed, it was the skill and dedication of other fans that had initially eased Din’s fears of detection when he had walked into the crowded hall and began moving with the sea of people to an unknown destination up ahead. Even if he wanted to choose his path, there was no way to; Din was lost amongst the endless sea of people. As he travelled down the main hall, his mouth felt dry underneath the helmet and his heart thundered in his chest as he had no idea where he was going. But once he had made it to the side and stopped briefly to orient himself, Din realised just how many fans there were cosplaying as Mando.

Din had been stunned by the many amazing cosplays he had seen. After collecting his nerves, he slowly began to move down the hall and gave a polite nod of the head to any other Mando cosplayers he passed. Most returned the gesture, in shared acknowledgement of each other’s craftsmanship. Progress had been slow, though, as Din was constantly asked for photos. Even worse were those that did not ask, but merely threw themselves at him. Some even touched Din without asking first, a gesture which made him flinch. It annoyed Din, just because he was dressed in cosplay did not mean he gave consent to be touched whenever others pleased.

Despite the host of incredible cosplays he had passed, Din knew that none of them truly lived up to his armour, his was a cut above the rest. There was no way to perfectly replicate real Beskar, no matter the incredible lengths that some of the cosplayers had gone to. He just hoped that no one would question it too deeply.

After a few minutes of walking around the main hall, Din had decided he needed some respite from the endless photo requests and eyes that Din felt watching his every move. Din found a quiet corner of the hall with some near deserted toilets and headed for them. He sealed himself into the stall and removed his helmet, grimacing at the way his hair clung to his forehead thanks to how much he had perspired due to his nerves. The helmet was climate-controlled, so the heat of the building should not have been an issue. It could not legislate for Din's emotions, though.

Each time Din moved to leave, he found that the anxiety he had felt while walking through the hall reared its ugly head. He kept telling himself that he only needed a few more minutes to regain his composure. That was until Din checked his watch and realised it was not long until the panel began.

So Din had unintentionally spent most of the time before the panel hiding away in the toilet stall in an attempt to repair his shattered nerves. At that point, it would have been so easy for Din to leave. But he knew that the curious part of his mind would never forgive him if he did not at least check out the panel. It was perhaps the best opportunity he was going to get to discover what people thought of the show, whether they liked the character and, most importantly, whether they had any theories on who The Mandalorian was.

Yet, now he was actually sitting there in the panel, he cursed not only himself for not leaving earlier, but Din also cursed Peli Motto for giving him such a stupid idea to attend this convention in the first place.

Many times throughout the panel – which was headed by a man called Jeff who wore a backwards baseball cap, despite looking as though he should have grown out of such a fashion choice several decades ago – Din had considered getting up and walking out. He had arrived pretty late as it was, only a minute or two before it began, as he hoped to sneak in and take an unassuming spot at the back. But the seats had all been filled back there, and an overly enthusiastic volunteer had guided him to a spare aisle seat about fifteen rows back from the front. 

Luckily, almost everyone had been too wrapped up in watching Jeff and his cronies fumble around with technology to pay him much mind, except for the people on his row who were in awe of his ‘cosplay.’ It would have been so easy for Din to just up and leave since he was on the end of the aisle. But he was fearful that it would have drawn too much attention to him. Thus far, he had pretty much gone undetected. Jeff had not bothered to look at the audience too clearly to notice the incredibly realistic Mandalorian that was currently in the room with him. Which was unsurprising, given how self-centred the man appeared to be. The panel really ought to have been retitled ‘The Jeff Show.’

Most of the panel had been pretty inoffensive, if a little dull. Din silently objected to the way that Jeff had reduced the show down to only its violent components, rather than engaging with it on a deeper level. At times, Jeff was so close to understanding what the action scenes demonstrated about Mando’s character and the wider politics of the galaxy. But then he would just make another crass comment about how good Mando was at killing and all progress would grind to a halt.

But then Jeff opened up the floor and invited the audience to step forward to the mic so he could hear comments from the fans. Din leaned forward in his seat, excited to finally fulfil the purpose of attending this panel and hear what others thought of the show that he had poured so much of his heart and soul into. But if Din was expecting to hear positive feedback, he was about to be bitterly disappointed.

Frustratingly, most speakers took their opportunity to address the audience to do nothing more than complain about never seeing Mando’s face or knowing his name. It was no surprise to Din that people felt that way, even if he was a little disappointed that people were so fixated on those two elements. Din knew it had been a concern at the beginning of the show, during early production meetings. But thanks to some input from Din himself, the character of Mando now felt more fleshed-out than he had when Din had joined the project.

Plus, Din felt as though viewers could understand enough about the character and his intentions without needing to know his name or see his face. It was a belief that was being challenged by the attitudes of the attendees of this panel. But Din was not too upset. After all, he was more concerned with whether any fans had any viable theories about his identity. Mercifully, none of them appeared to have picked up on any rumours. When the show's creators told him that no one suspected that Din Djarin was The Mandalorian, it appeared they had been telling the truth.

Fortunately, despite the name of the panel, there had been no speculation on Mando's true identity thus far. Despite the panel's title hinting that the man behind the Mandalorian would be discussed, that had so far not transpired. Things appeared to be looking up for Din; not only had there been no speculation as to his identity, but none of the audience had noticed the incredibly realistic cosplay that was sitting amongst them.

That was until a young man with brown hair, dressed in a Mando t-shirt and jeans stood up and moved towards the mic. His comments started positively enough, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love the show and all,” The man confessed, and Din smiled slightly underneath the helmet. However, he continued: “But I just feel like we don’t know that much about Mando. It’s as if we, as an audience, are being held back from connecting with him fully because of some diva’s selfish demands to keep his identity hidden!” The man exclaimed.

Din felt his blood run cold. He swallowed thickly, feeling bile rise in his throat. He should have known that this was a bad idea, that coming here was a mistake. But the man was not quite finished, yet:

“Seriously, the guy who plays him must be such an asshole. Imagine having to work with that guy!” He ended his tirade, to a smattering of laughter and applause from the room.

The accusations that he had thrown Din’s way, about him being an asshole or a diva – a charge that in particular made no sense, as surely a diva would want their name and face to be plastered everywhere – had been like a punch to the gut. And Din had endured many of them throughout his life to understand exactly how painful they could be.

Far from the kind words he had been expecting, instead, Din had been forced to listen to various people slander both the show and him as a person. Din’s heart ached as he heard the charges being levelled against him; it was one thing to criticise the show but to call his character into question caused a whole other level of pain. If they only knew why he had to keep his identity a secret, they would never throw such cruel accusations his way. 

Din wasn’t naive. He knew that by signing up for a Star Wars show, his life would change forever. It was not a decision that he had taken lightly. Especially given that his way of life was opposed to everything the mega-corporation that now owned Star Wars stood for. But it presented an opportunity to not only secure a consistent income and better life for himself and his son but also to showcase his culture to the world. It was an opportunity that Din really could not turn down. However, just because Din was prepared for his life to change in some ways did not mean that he could ever be prepared to be attacked on such a personal level.

At that moment, Din almost tossed aside his priority to remain hidden and not draw attention to himself as he debated walking out of the panel. After hearing such personal attacks against his character, Din was so close to just upping and leaving that room. He had heard enough. If there was even one more vaguely harsh word tossed Din’s way, it might have tipped him over the edge.

Despite the tough exterior that Din Djarin projected to the rest of the world, he was at his core, a fairly sensitive man. He knew that the things that he had already heard about himself would take him a long time to come to terms with. He couldn’t bear to hear any further unkindness.

Din planted his feet firmly on the floor and began to lean forward, preparing himself to leave. It seemed that in a war between his mind and body, his body had won… his subconscious was going to make him stand up and storm out of that room, against all rational thought.

In all of his anguish, Din had missed the girl who had stormed forward to the microphone, dodging limbs and hurdling bags, to stand before the room.

But then she began speaking and her presence became impossible to ignore any longer; her voice was shaky with nerves but there was absolute conviction and certainty behind every word.

And Din was frozen to the spot, utterly transfixed. Suddenly all thoughts of leaving exited his mind.

“I think tying Mando’s identity to his name and face is a pretty narrow way of viewing how we can understand who someone truly is inside and what exactly motivates them. I mean, I think I’ve connected to his character pretty well without ever seeing his face or knowing his real name. That’s because Mando has proved time and time again what kind of man he is,” The girl argued and Din found himself instantly relaxing and leaning back in his seat. “The way he has risked his life multiple times to rid the galaxy of threats and evil shows that he is committed to securing a brighter future, even if he is not around to see it. This man is willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good. Sure, we don’t know his name or face or a lot about his origins, but I think to us, that should prove that he has nothing but noble intentions. That human side of the man beneath all of the armour allows us to connect to him on a far deeper level than just seeing a face and learning a name ever could,” She finished and Din shut his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. Unbeknownst to her, the kind words she spoke had soothed Din's soul. She had begun to heal the wounds that were opened by the previous speakers' harsh words.

Din noticed how nervous the girl seemed and the way she fiddled with her hands as she stood at the microphone. He marvelled at the way she had been up like a shot to defend the character, though. Plus, judging by how eloquently she spoke, Din assumed she was used to this. 

Din sat there and listened with a small smile on his face, shaking his head slightly in awe as she launched into a passionate defence of the character. Unlike all previous speakers, the girl understood just as Din did, that seeing someone’s true intentions and the qualities they possessed mattered more than knowing their name or what they looked like.

Suddenly, Din began to feel a lot lighter. People did care, people did love and appreciate the show and they understood Mando as a character. He was pleased by that fact. Din knew he would stay now. Even if the next speakers reverted to being less than complimentary, the girl had bolstered his confidence and soothed his bruised ego enough to stick around.

Din expected that the girl would retreat to her seat after giving her opinion. The awful man who ran the panel certainly seemed to think that was the case as he met her passionate speech with empty platitudes, which Din thought bordered on the patronising. 

However, what she did next caused Din’s jaw to drop beneath his helmet. The girl did not return to her seat. Instead, she spoke up and continued to defend not only the character of Mando but also the man behind him.

Din listened in awe as she started speaking up to defend the man who was, unbeknownst to her, sitting only a few feet away.

“Also, I know no one outside this room will probably ever hear what had been said at this panel, but I think attacking the character of the man who portrays Mando, simply because he wants privacy, is unfair. I think we should always talk about people, online and publicly, as though they can read or hear what we say,” She argued and Din almost snorted at that assertion.. if only she knew that he was right here. “We don’t know why he won’t say who he is, but I trust that he has his reasons. Even then, he doesn’t need to have a good reason. Everyone is entitled to their privacy for the simple fact of wanting to be private,” The girl appealed to her fellow fans. Din felt tears pool in his eyes at her beautiful sentiment. Until she came along, he had been about to leave, with his last memories of the panel, believing that everyone hated him and thought he made the show worse. Now, though, he was listening to a passionate, eloquent defence of his character.

The girl finished off her speech with a comment about the show. She explained how Mando respected everyone that he encountered in the galaxy and left the places he visited better than he found them. She implored her fellow fans to take the same lessons from the show, rather than focus on the violent, action scenes. When she was finished, Din wanted to stand up and applaud her, before rushing up to her and thanking her from the bottom of his heart.

It was clear that she understood exactly what The Mandalorian was truly about. The show was, at its core, about respecting others and learning to peacefully coexist. Mando was fighting for a better galaxy, a kinder galaxy and once people understood that, they would understand how important it was to respect the actor behind the Mandalorian.

Din had an overwhelming urge to make his way over to this stranger, to thank her from the bottom of his heart for standing up for Mando so passionately. He knew, given his cosplay, that he could easily pass as an enthusiastic fan. 

Then Din remembered who he was and settled on the upsetting reality that he couldn’t take such a reckless action.

If he spoke, she might recognise that the voice beneath the helmet was the very same one that she had no doubt seen on screen so many times. It was too great a risk and, much as Din would have loved to thank her, it now seemed as though their paths would diverge without her ever knowing how truly thankful Din was for her words and how much they had done to boost his confidence. Ultimately, although it was sad, Din knew that it was how things had to be. The risk was too great.

Although for the short time remaining that Din would remain in her orbit, Din was determined to commit every inch of her to memory, so that he would never forget the woman who had unknowingly done so much to him. Din was determined to impress her on his memory on the off-chance that their paths would one day cross in a scenario where he might be able to get to know her. After all, Din was a man, and he was not immune to the fact that she was a beautiful woman, perhaps several years younger than him. But her beauty was not just skin-deep; it was to be found in the way she spoke so eloquently. How she addressed the room with such maturity and wisdom. To Din, it appeared as though she had lived several lifetimes.

Now she had sat back in her seat, Din could only appreciate the back of her profile, though he had noticed the cute slope of her nose and her plush lips as she made her way back to her seat. Din focused on her hair. It looked so soft that he wondered how it would feel against his skin as he nuzzled into her scalp and pressed a soft kiss of gratitude there.

The T-visor had its perks, as no one else in the room was any the wiser to how intently Din had affixed his gaze to her, much like Mando did when tracking a bounty. Din found that, even if he had wanted to, he could not look away from her. He watched quietly as her friend whispered excitedly to her. She was only a couple of rows in front of him and was almost close enough to reach out and touch. 

Perhaps that was how Din could make her feel his appreciation in a low-risk way, through a simple touch. He wondered whether he could put his hand on her shoulder on the way out and convey his thanks with a nod of his helmet the way Mando would. But that was another fantasy that would not come to pass, as Din knew that when this panel was reaching its conclusion, he had to make straight for the doors before he got swamped by any of the enthusiastic fans in here. He had seen the way throughout the panel that the number of people who had spotted his incredible ‘costume’ had increased. Din knew he was drawing many eyes.

Despite the overwhelming urge inside him to thank the girl, Din knew that he had to keep moving through the convention centre. Cutting a dedicated path, scything his way through the crowd like the methodic warrior he was.

So, when Jeff started wrapping up the panel, Din sprang straight to his feet and strode towards the doors, before a single soul could say anything. There were a few excited faces and murmured gasps as he strode purposefully towards the exit, but fortunately, no one was quick enough to stand up and thwart his quick exit. 

Bizarrely, even though he was unused to being around so many people and had initially found the experience overwhelming, Din found that after the panel, he felt far more comfortable in the larger, crowded spaces at the convention. In a small room, there was no privacy. Anyone and everyone could look at him, their steely, judgmental eyes burrowing into him. They know… he had been constantly thinking to himself throughout the panel. But of course, no one was any the wiser to his true identity. Even if the panel's attendees thought that the costume was realistic, the idea of the real Mandalorian attending a convention dressed as himself was too far-fetched to be real. Even the most imaginative fanfic writer could not come up with such a ridiculous plot.

So, Din found himself physically relaxing as he made his way back to the main hallway. His shoulders were less tense, his jaw unclenched. After he left the panel, Din had not intended to linger much longer. But as he found himself wandering around, stopping for more and more photos with eager fans who were so blown away by his ‘cosplay,' Din discovered that he began to almost enjoy the attention.

There were so many children here too. Some were not much older than Grogu. Din wished he had brought Grogu with him, but he knew that the convention would not have been a welcome environment for his precious son, especially given his nervous disposition. But Din knew with absolute certainty that Grogu was having a pleasant afternoon, he was being looked after by an elderly man named Kuiil, who was a babysitter that the studio had initially put him in touch with. Kuiil was always dependable and happy to help Din out whenever he needed him to take care of Grogu, no matter how little notice Din gave.

Din was gradually growing in confidence as he strode through the main hall of the convention centre. Now, when fans asked for photos or even launched themselves at him without asking first, Din found that he was less nervous. To every request, Din just nodded. When people thanked him, although they didn’t always – Din occasionally wished he could speak to remind them to mind their manners – Din made the same gesture. A simple nod said so much, without saying anything at all.

Din would never speak while wearing his armour. To most, it perhaps came across as an incredible amount of dedication to cosplaying the character – Mando, after all, was a man of few words. But the reality was that Din knew his voice could blow his cover. 

Ordinarily, Din rarely feared his voice would give him away as The Mandalorian, as his Mando voice was distorted somewhat by the helmet, so the difference was sufficient enough for Din to feel confident that no one would realise he was Mando. But surrounded by superfans at this convention, in the very helmet that would distort his voice to make him unmistakably sound the same as Mando, Din deemed it far too great a risk to take. 

After stopping for photos and fistbumps with enthusiastic fans of all ages, Din was finally ready to make his exit, much later than he believed he would have initially. Ultimately, Din was glad he had attended the panel and not rushed off earlier in the day when he had felt so overwhelmed that he had been driven to hide in the toilet. Although the panel had not been an entirely positive experience, it had been worth it just because of her.

And to think, Din was so hurt after the comments some fans had made about him at the panel that he would have missed out on feeling all the love and appreciation for Mando, had it not been for that girl who took a stand and raised her voice in defence of him. Her words had allowed DIn to feel lighter, freer and as though he wanted to open himself up to the love the fans were prepared to show him. 

The day at the convention had been an amazing, eye-opening experience. One that was far out of Din’s comfort zone, something that he never would have believed he could do for himself. But now he realised that he had also stayed far longer than he had been expecting. Din wanted to get back to his son. Grogu was usually settled and happy for the first few hours, but Din knew that it would soon begin to veer into the territory where a meltdown may be more likely.

Plus, Din had finally had enough for the day. He was accustomed to wearing his armour for long periods – it was like a second skin, after all – but he hadn’t sat down, nor removed his helmet for hours. Despite his increased confidence, the fear of being discovered lingered. The fear that his ‘costume’ would be sussed out set him constantly on edge and was draining him far more than a heavy suit of armour could. 

So Din began making his way to the exit through the expansive main hallway. He almost made it through without stopping, until he noticed a massive banner with a photograph of himself on it. Din stopped for a second, looking up at it as he remembered the day that photo had been taken. It had been a nerve-wracking experience for him, he was certainly not a model, but they had needed some promo shots. So Din found himself there, posing awkwardly in front of a professional photographer who was barking orders at him and wondering when arms and hands had become such awkward, cumbersome things. Din would rather have spent an entire day throwing himself into walls without a single break before repeating the experience and had informed The Mandalorian's creative team as much. So future photoshoots were completed with a body double wearing a copy of Din’s armour. The photo on display was one of the few that was him, though.

Din stood there for a few moments, smiling proudly at it underneath his helmet before a small voice caused Din to stop reminiscing over the gigantic poster and abruptly turn on the spot to face the direction of the voice.

“Excuse me, could we take a photo with you, please?” A timid voice said. In response, Din felt every hair stand on end as he instantly recognised the person who the voice belonged to.

It was the girl from the panel, staring at him with absolute admiration and adoration. He stood open-mouthed and gawked at her for a few seconds, stunned to be in her presence once again. But then her beautiful features changed. She frowned slightly and then Din realised he had been standing there, frozen, as he stared at her in disbelief. She had taken his silence and inaction as a dismissal and almost retreated before Din snapped out of his trance and nodded quickly. He wanted to tell her how wonderful she had been at the panel, how much her words had meant to him. But everything happened so fast.

Din felt his heart rate quicken as the girl moved to stand next to him. Her arms hung by her side somewhat awkwardly, just like Din’s had in the photo on the poster that he had just been admiring. She was too nervous - or perhaps polite - to sling one around his shoulder or waist. Din wouldn’t have minded though, there was something imperceptible about her that made Din want to be drawn into her orbit. She had a magnetic presence.

Din barely remembered to turn and look up at the girl’s friend who was taking the photo, his ordinarily calm and composed mind had been catapulted off its axis by her presence. The girl went to step away, but Din raised a hand just in front of her body to stop her from moving off.

“Wait, let me… pose properly,” Din choked out, forgetting his vow of silence in a moment of recklessness. He held his breath for a few seconds, but if she recognised his voice, she did not acknowledge it. Din released a shaky breath, trying not to be frustrated with himself. After all, Din had only good intentions. Out of everyone he had taken photos with today, she deserved the best out of them all. 

“Oh, thank you!” The girl laughed and smiled appreciatively as she took her place back by Din’s side.

Din placed one hand on his belt and leaned in towards her, hoping that the picture turned out to her satisfaction. They stood there side by side, almost close enough to touch. At that moment, Din wanted nothing more than to remove his helmet and bare his face to the alluring woman who had publicly spoken so eloquently in his defence and been equally polite in their more private encounter. But even if he had wanted to, they were out of time. Their few seconds together were over. 

“Thank you! Your cosplay is amazing, by the way! It looks so realistic!” She said with a shy smile as she stepped away. “I think there’s a cosplay competition at the Twin Suns stage this afternoon, you should seriously consider entering. I’m sure you’d win!” The girl said encouragingly.

Din nodded stiffly, struck by her manners and how genuinely excited and encouraging towards others she seemed to be. Both traits mattered deeply to Din. But there were also nerves behind his suddenly restricted motions as he once again feared his cover being blown. Din supposed that it would be unsurprising if it was the same girl from the panel who had shown such a passion for the character was finally the one to connect the dots.

Despite the momentary panic caused by her comment about how realistic his costume was, Din was still amazed by how sweet she had been. The way her eyes shone with genuine excitement as she approached him and yet, she managed to maintain that respect for him that other attendees did not. So many people rushed up to Din when he was in this costume, without even stopping to ask his permission for a photo, let alone take a second to look at him or politely thank him. The fact she had thanked him and complimented him and even spoken encouraging words about his cosplay proved to Din that she was one of the politest attendees. 

Din had a few more seconds to appreciate being in the girl’s presence as the friend she was with stepped up to have a picture with him. The girl’s friend seemed more confident than her in the way she posed, she seemed to know exactly what to do. But Din was paying her no mind. Instead, he glanced at the details of her face he could see from behind the phone – complete with Mando case – that she was using to take the photo. Din noticed the spark in her eyes, the way they lit up when she looked at him. She probably didn’t realise just how much Din could see in the helmet and that he was staring directly at her, noticing the look of awe she wore on her face.

“Thank you,” The girl’s friend said with a polite nod and the two walked off.

Din stood for a moment, watching them as they went. They flicked through the photos, jumping up and down excitedly as they looked at one. They were just out of earshot, but Din could tell how excited they both seemed by the pictures they had taken together. He smiled beneath his helmet. Knowing that he could bring such joy to others was a phenomenon he had lived in blissful ignorance of for most of the time since he had been cast as The Mandalorian, the only exception being when he had visited that children’s hospital a few months previously.

Today had opened Din Djarin’s eyes to the impact he was having out there, on so many different people. It was a debt that he owed to her, a debt that he knew he would, regrettably, never be able to repay.

Perhaps, in another reality, Din would have run after her, stopped her and confessed how appreciative he was of her kindness. He would have told her that he wanted to get to know her and asked her on a date if she was single. Maybe she would have been momentarily taken aback, given the bizarre circumstances of him wearing a full suit of armour and running up to her at a convention like that. But hopefully, she would have given him a chance.

They would have gotten to know each other, and gradually fallen in love over the next few months. Perhaps, if things went well, they would have lived a long and happy life together. It felt so real, for one fleeting moment, that Din could almost see their future together.

But that was ridiculous. In this reality, Din watched from behind his helmet as the outline of the girl he felt himself so drawn to grew smaller and smaller before eventually being swallowed up by the crowd.

She disappeared into the distance. Out of view, and out of Din’s life.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @toxic-seduction

#my fics #tbobw #din djarin fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin fanfiction #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[twinsunstars]

Remember Me - a small Bad Batch fic

Y'all I'm causing pain right before the premiere tomorrow, don't come for me 😭 I also haven't written in a long while, and I wrote this super fast. Just something I thought of based on a post I posted last week while listening to the song of the same name. This fic takes place during Season 2, so hope you like it!

also up on AO3

There were so many stars in space, Omega wished she could count all of them. The view from her makeshift room–normally the gunner’s loft of the ship–was stunning as always. 

Omega sat in the gunner’s seat, holding Lula close and observing the view of space. She remembered the first time she had gotten to see space all those months ago, the way the tiny white stars twinkled in the vast darkness. Her eyes sparkled with wonder, her heart leaping with delight. 

The Batch had just finished up another mission Cid had sent them on, and it was a long way back to Ord Mantell. Omega could hear Wrecker’s snores from her room. He knocked out pretty easily after long tiring missions. Tech and Echo were likely keeping a watch on the ship’s controls, and Hunter was making sure everything was in order before the jump to hyperspace. She could even hear Gonky making some small noises as he listened to her brothers. 

Flashes of blue streaked her room’s window, the ship now entering hyperspace. Omega stepped down from the gunner’s seat, sitting herself down on the makeshift bed Wrecker had made for her. Holding Lula, she laid down on her back, staring at the golden string lights that lit up her room. The lights made her blond hair glow, and Omega felt comfortable in here. Away from a dark room. Away from a dark laboratory. 

“Comfortable in here?”

Omega looked up to see Hunter giving her a soft smile, leaning his arm against the sides of the room. Omega sat up, crossing her legs and setting Lula aside next to her. “Yeah. Getting a little tired though.”

Hunter let out a soft chuckle. “Get some rest. The others will be getting some shut eye too. I’ll be on watch duty this time.”

Omega nodded, her eyes starting to shut. Hunter closed the curtain, the curtain rings making a small creaking sound as they glided. She laid back down, pulling her blanket over her and tucking in Lula, letting sleep capture her for the trip back home. 

______________________________________________________________

Omega’s eyes opened to a foggy view, and she was definitely no longer inside her room, or the ship. She listened for any snores or voices, but couldn’t hear any. 

“Hello?” 

Her tiny voice echoed in the fog. Omega couldn’t see anything either as she tried to navigate herself through the thick fog. “Hunter! Echo! Tech! Anyone?”

A ceiling light lit up in front of Omega, followed by a line of lights that yearned for her to come after. Omega arched her eyebrow, following the lights. She still couldn’t see anything, but the fog was starting to thin out. 

Lights to Omega’s left and right appeared, displaying large tubes. Omega could easily recognize them. They were just like the ones she saw growing up in Nala Se’s lab. Even in the secret rooms Nala Se would take her to when the Kaminoan needed her for specific help. 

Omega’s heart rate began to grow. She always hated the labs, reminding her of how scary her life was since she was born. It was always wires, tubes, and injection needles, never any warm hugs or toys to play with. 

She kept on walking under the lights, beginning to see unknown figures inside the tubes. Omega looked away and held her arms together, refusing to see all of that again. She didn’t want to be here anymore, wherever this place was. 

Up ahead, a light appeared larger than the rest, displaying a control panel in front of her. Omega walked up to the control panel, which looked exactly like one of the panels inside Nala Se’s underwater lab. A small button was glowing in white, flashing every second. Omega couldn’t help but press the button out of curiosity, and she wished she hadn’t. 

The button caused a larger light to switch on, revealing five large tubes in front of her. Each one of them had one of her brothers inside, hooked up with tubes. Even Crosshair was there, asleep inside the tube’s liquid. 

Omega trembled, stepping away from the panel. “No, no…” Her lips trembled, tears coming out of her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, young one.” A strange voice completely unfamiliar to Omega spoke from the darkness. But there was no figure to be seen. 

“But they have to leave you. They can’t be with you anymore.”

“No,” Omega whimpered. She wanted to run towards them, do anything to set them free. Something grabbed ahold of Omega, preventing her from moving. The unknown force pulled her away, and Omega could see wires wrapping around her bare arms. All Omega could do was scream. 

“NO!”

“Kid?”

______________________________________________________________

“Kid!”

Omega woke up with a jolt, her hands shaking. She was back in her warmly lit room. Omega realized it was a nightmare. A really scary one.

Hunter laid his hand gently on Omega’s soft hair, helping her sit up. His enhanced senses had sensed Omega whimpering in her sleep, almost sobbing. “Breathe.”

Omega’s eyes welled up with tears, still in shock from the nightmare. She looked up at Hunter, letting him see her glistening eyes that were full of fear. She pushed herself into Hunter’s arms, sniffling. 

Hunter held her, letting her cry it out. “It’s okay. It was just a bad dream.”

Omega lifted herself off Hunter’s armor, wiping her tears away. “It felt real. All of you were in tubes, and I couldn’t save you.” She broke into more tears. “I was alone.”

Hunter let her continue crying, pulling her into another embrace. He knew what it felt like to have those dreams. Fearing his brothers were ever pulled into those tubes as failed test subjects. Continued experiments until their blood was drained from their bodies. He never wanted them to come true. 

“I don’t want to lose any of you, ever,” Omega mumbled. 

Hunter had made that same promise to her all the time. At her young age, she had a lot of hope. But reality is something she has to learn. 

“Omega,” Hunter began, putting his hands on her shoulders. “It’s alright, we’re here for you now. But you know we can’t always be. We age faster than you, and death is something everyone has to face in this world, not just a soldier. It is hard, but you have to remember all of the memories. When that time comes, will you be brave and remember what we taught you?”

Omega looked down for a few seconds, then back up at Hunter. She was the only one here who aged normally, since they were designed to age faster for the army to grow quickly. She nodded. Omega never wanted them to leave her, but she was slowly understanding the lesson Hunter was trying to teach her. 

“Come here.” Hunter pulled Omega into his lap, handing her Lula. He stroked her hair and began singing the lullaby Cut had taught him. 

Remember me though I have to say goodbye

Remember me, don't let it make you cry

For even if I'm far away, I hold you in my heart

I sing a secret song to you each night we are apart

Omega was lured back into sleep, holding Lula close and embracing the warmth in Hunter’s arms as he sang. Everything was okay within this moment, and she was safe.

______________________________________________________________

Hunter remembered the last night he had sung that lullaby to Omega. She had grown to love that lullaby, wanting Hunter to sing it for her many times before she went to bed. 

The ship was quiet while traveling through hyperspace. The others were in the front of the ship, silent while thinking about the loss they had just faced. Tech was gone, and now Omega was taken. 

Everything that replayed in Hunter’s mind was when he saw that Imperial ship leaving with Omega inside. The tears that welled up in his eyes while seeing his little sister being taken from him. 

He laid back in his chair, remembering the smiles Omega had on her face. 

“Sing me the lullaby again! Please!”

Tears grew in Hunter’s eyes again. He closed them, breathing in as he began to sing again. 

Remember me though I have to travel far

Remember me each time you hear a sad guitar

Know that I'm with you the only way that I can be

Until you're in my arms again

Hunter felt like he could hear a tiny voice singing with his broken vocals. 

Remember me.

#@half-truths-and-hyperbole-louk #bad batch #the bad batch #the bad batch omega #the bad batch hunter #tbb #the bad batch wrecker #the bad batch tech #the bad batch echo #the bad batch crosshair #star wars tbb #bad batch clones #star wars the bad batch #clone force 99 #the bad batch series #star wars #omega the bad batch

[kybercrystals94]

Regroup

Part 1

By KyberCrystals94

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2023|Day 14|Prompt 14: “Just hold on.”

Rating: T

Words: 1261

Summary: Omega and Tech need to regroup before they can return to rescue the others when a job goes awry.

Author’s Note: Yes, another Tech Whump Story…and yes, a second part is coming. This was not originally the plan, but here we are. Please forgive me.

The searing pain of the laceration clouds his vision as he stumbles through the thick undergrowth on the forest floor, vines tangling around his boots, threatening to pull him down with them. He clutches at his side, blood seeping through his blacks and armor. In his other hand, he holds his blaster, occasionally firing bolts behind him, if only to give the illusion of competence to their pursuers. Omega gasps breathlessly at his side, her fingers clinging to his utility belt, both to keep herself from succumbing to the same plants that threaten to trip him and an attempt to keep pace with his significantly longer strides.

“I see it!” she huffs, pointing ahead to where the trees mercifully begin to clear. The Marauder peeks through, waiting expectantly.

“Tech, come in,” Hunter’s voice crackles over the private comm in his helmet.

Tech can scarcely answer through his labored breathing, his mind bleary with blood loss and adrenaline. It takes almost all of his concentration just to put one foot in front of the other. “’M here,” he pants out.

“You and Omega get to the Marauder and leave immediately. I will send you coordinates to a rendezvous point, but don’t come until I give you the signal.” Hunter’s orders feel impossible on multiple levels as Tech muddles through the responses his usually extraordinary mind produces. They couldn’t leave the rest of the squad behind; Tech might not even be able to fly the Marauder in his current condition; what would happen to Omega if he bled out...

“Tech...you can’t stay here. You have to get out.” Hunter’s tone is urgent, having understood Tech’s silent response.

Tech swallows, forcing himself to reply. “Copy that. Just hold on. We will come back for you both.” His broken, gasping voice betrays him. Pain is evident. Hunter must know he is injured.

“I know you will,” comes Hunter’s gentle response.

Omega tugs at him, clearly upset. “What? We can’t leave! Not without the others!” she cries. She starts to let go of him, to hang back, even as the sound of droids in hot pursuit crash behind them.

Tech releases his pressure hold on his wound, reaching back to clasp Omega’s wrist in his bloodied fingers, now having to drag her behind him as she struggles and sobs. She is being irrational, but Tech understands exactly what her young mind cannot quite comprehend.

“We will come back for them, Omega,” Tech says to her, “but we must get to safety first so we can regroup. Neither of us are in any condition to rescue them at this moment.” Omega might be rash and irrational when overcome with emotions, but she is also extremely intelligent...Tech knows he can reason with her so long as he is honest and straightforward.

She does not say anything in response, but she allows herself to be pulled along without further resistance. They break through the tree line and across the open field between them and the Marauder. Tech drops Omega’s arm so that he can press the button on his vambrace to lower the ramp. He can hear Omega beside him, sniffling but present, able to keep up now that his body is forcing him to slow down. He feels like his boots are made of permacrete, each step a struggle to complete.

They clamber up the ramp, Tech firing a couple more shots into the trees before slamming his fist against the control panel to close the door. Tech’s vision is fading in and out, but he still has a job to complete, a task that takes precedence over his passing out. He clings to what little adrenaline is left in his veins to stumble up to the cockpit, dropping into the pilot’s chair and starting the engines.

“Omega,” he gasps to the girl who comes up beside him, “I will need your help once we are in hyperspace. I am injured, but I know you are more than capable of helping me.” The ship begins its ascent, Tech going through the motions of flying...escaping...without having to think about it. “It is not a deep wound, but I am losing a substantial amount of blood. You were Nala Se’s medical assistant, which means you know what to do, correct?”

He glances over at Omega, who is nodding slowly. She is thinking hard, her young, soft face hardening with determination. He is giving her a mission...an important one at that, three of her brothers’ lives at stake...he knows that she is up to the task.

“Yes,” she says, “I know what to do.” She hurries off, leaving Tech alone in the cockpit to put in coordinates to a remote area of nearby space where they can lay low until Hunter sends them the signal.

Tech releases a shaky breath. He hates putting Omega in this position, making her responsible for his injury. Even with her training, she is still just a child. But what choice do they have? To save themselves? To save the others?

Omega returns as they launch into hyperspace, a med kit clutched against her chest.

Tech feels himself fading, his mind beginning to lose all focus. He turns in his chair, facing Omega. He reaches up to grasp her shoulder with his clean hand. “I may lose consciousness; however, we are going to drop out of hyperspace somewhere safe in just a few minutes. We will wait for Hunter’s signal, and we will be ready to go back as planned. Yes?”

Omega nods, her eyes wide but her mouth set in a firm line.

Tech starts to remove his armor, but his fingers refuse to cooperate with the latches. Omega sets aside the med kit and takes over, carefully stacking the armor against the wall as she removes it. Tech hisses as she lifts his shirt away from the wound, some of the blood having dried it to his torn skin. Omega hums a distant apology, but she continues to roll up the shirt, helping him pull it over his head.

She kneels to examine the wound. “You were right,” she says, “it isn’t deep. But it's bleeding a lot. I am going to clean it and then do sutures. We have a localized anesthetic I can use, but it will probably still hurt when I’m cleaning it out. I’m sorry.” She carefully presses a damp towel against the gash, taking Tech’s hand so that he holds it in place.

“No apologies needed,” Tech says, his voice barely a whisper. He sinks back into the seat, his strength diminishing rapidly. The adrenaline that has gotten them this far is finally running out. He manages to add in a muttered breath, “I’ve experienced worse as a soldier, Miss Omega.”

It is meant to be comforting; however, the way Omega’s eyebrows knit together, Tech realizes it has had the opposite effect. His sister blinks rapidly for a moment before turning her attention to the med kit she has moved beside her. She takes out cleaning solution, clean cloths, bacta patches, and begins to situate the needle and thread, lining them in order for across a cloth she had spread out beforehand. He watches her work with muted awareness, struggling to maintain consciousness against the loss of blood. Even once he is stitched up, he will be in no condition to fight should his brothers need him. He worries if he will even be able to fly the Marauder back to them. Panic begins to gnaw anew along his scarcely conscious thoughts.

TBC

Author’s Note: Tech will be fine in the long run, I promise. I wrote this story months ago, and when I was going through my WIPs for a story today, I was like, why not another Tech injured fic??

Tag List: @isthereanechoinhere96 @followthepurrgil @amorfista

✨Let me know if you’d like to be added to my Tag List!✨

#whumptober 2023 #day 14 #prompt 14 #just hold on #tech whump #bleeding out #omega saves the day #tbb tech #TBB omega #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #star wars #the bad batch #the clone wars #star wars tbb #Star Wars the bad batch #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #fics by kyber

[cocogum]

Gon was born in 1988.

One thing that always bothered me about the 2011 version, was how they made Gon and Killua say that they were exactly 12 instead of saying “almost 12”.

Now I know I shouldn’t be complaining about something so small and insignificant.

But I’m still going to.

When I saw these two saying they were 12 instead of saying that they were almost 12, it irked me because I knew the math wouldn’t be right. If they were actually 12, then they’d be born in 1987 making the timeline of the story incorrect and changing the whole story by taking off a year of it.

By changing one detail and making it look like another, you mess up something bigger than just a character’s age. When it comes to what year hxh takes place in, we have to rely on what we’ve got since the story doesn’t say it for us but simply gives us clues and hints.

But that’s not the point here. The point that I’m trying to make is that every time his year of birth pops up on his bio, it shows the year 1987 instead of 1988. At first, I didn’t think much about it, since I knew the wiki was talking about his anime counterpart. But when people started using the year 1987 for his official birthday, it just felt too messy and unorganized for me so that’s why I’m making this to not only help myself to remember but also if anyone has had the same problem I had.

So let’s begin.

Gon was born on May 5th, XXXX.

At the very beginning of the series, Gon, Leorio, Kurapika and Killua take the 287th hunter exam on January 7th and took exactly 8 days for them to finish it (so from January 7th to January 15th). Specifically in chapter 6, Killua asks Gon how old he is. The boy tells him he’s almost 12 to which Killua also says the same thing (like seriously dude u could’ve just said 11 instead of saying “almost 12” like why complicate yourself???)

So now we know the main character’s age during this time period which was 11.

Next, when the main four finally reunite on September 1st (Kurapika joins them just a bit later) in the Yorknew City arc, Gon and Killua are finally 12 since their birthdays (May 5th for Gon and July 7th for Killua) passed already.

Let’s fast forward a little.

In chapter 146, Bisky tells Gon and Killua that the new year is almost there, specifically stating that it is currently December 29th.

(This scene also helps us to know that the Hunter exam usually stops accepting participants on the 31st of December.)

Just a bit later during the same chapter, when Killua exits the game to apply for the hunter exam a second time, we see a sign hanging from a store building which conveniently just happens to show us the exact year of when this is all occurring as well as the month and the day. According to the sign, the date is said to be December 29th, 1999.

(Not only do we get the full date but we also get the time too which is 15:08 aka 3:08 pm.)

We know this scene takes place on December 29th since Bisky confirmed it on the panel just above this one so we can trust this building sign for giving us an exact answer on the year and time this is taking place in.

Since every hunter exam starts on January 7th (the application deadline ends on December 31st), Killua would have passed the 288th hunter exam on the seventh day of the new year (since he instantly beat everyone on the first phase).

Now we go even further into the timeline.

If we fully skip the full chimera ant arc and go right to the scene where Gon’s at the hospital, we get to see a doctor in chapter 316 explaining to Knuckle and Knov the situation that Gon is currently in. While explaining to them the severity of his condition, we can see the doctor privately commenting on how he’s shocked to see that a 12-year-old boy turned out like this in just one day.

(So apparently 4 months have passed during the chimera ant arc cuz why the hell would that doctor say he’s 12 if it took the hunter team more than four months to win against the ants??)

Fast forward again.

The 289th hunter exam occurs only this time, instead of starting on January 7th like usual, it got postponed to a later date so that the Hunter association could gather the necessary resources to help Beyond Netero and the Kakin Empire to properly accompany them to the Dark Continent. Even though we don’t know when this specific hunter exam eventually started, we know that it ended on July 3rd which makes Gon 13 years old (and eventually Killua as well since his birthday is only 4 days later).

So there we go.

Gon is 13 years old in 2001 (which is the current year that the story is taking place in) and his complete birthdate is May 5th, 1988.

#i had to use math for this shit #at first my dumbass initially thought that Gon was born in 1998 since that’s when the manga’s first volume got released 💀 #hunterxhunter #anime #hunter x hunter #hxh #manga #hxh 1999 #hxh 2011 #hxh manga #hxh gon freecss #hxh gon #gon hxh #gon freecss hxh #gon freecss #gon #freecss #hxh killua zoldyck #hxh killua #killua hxh #killua zoldyck hxh #killua zoldyck #killua #zoldyck #hxh meta #hxh anime #hxh animanga #hxh arcs #hxh arc

[anakinskywalkerog]

My Very Soul (Chapter 22)

Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader

Link to Chapter 21

Warnings: more waiting but also feelings and a lil bit o action (a hurricane if anyone has recently gone thru that 😢)

Summary: Your attempt to follow Anakin after the bounty hunters leads you to a place you didn't want to go; you and Anakin decide to go rogue to attempt to rescue his mother

Word Count: 2.8k

As you pulled yourself into the pilot's seat and jammed your hand against the button to close the cockpit, you urged your body to move faster, even though it felt paralyzed by fear. What was wrong with you? You'd chased bounty hunters countless times. The adrenaline and panic coursing through you now felt new, and it terrified you, but all you could do was push it aside and try to control your shaking hands as you pulled the ship above the trees. As you flew after the enemy's ship—the ship Anakin was still clinging to—you looked down and saw Theo running out onto the house's deck, his petrified face becoming smaller and smaller in your view as you zoomed forward. You could still see the bounty hunter's ship, but it was far in front of you, and you couldn't tell exactly what was happening with just your eyes.

       "Ani? Anakin, do you copy?" you yelled frantically into the comm channel.

       "A little busy!" you heard him grunt back, amidst the humming of a lightsaber and the sound of an engine.

       "I'm on your tail," you told him, trying to calm your heart that felt like it was beating out of your chest. What was happening to you? A major tenet of the Jedi religion was the ability to remain calm while in the face of danger. You'd never struggled with this before—you'd always been able to snap into focus when duty called. Why was your blood pumping like this? Why couldn't you stop the tendrils of fear from wrapping around your heart, strangling you from within? You breathed, following the ship above the vast ocean. You were so focused on the ship in front of you, you almost didn't notice the sky beginning to darken.

       "Anakin, the storm!" you yelled into the comm, but it was too late. You'd flown away from the sunny seashore, away from the island, toward the storming you'd only been able to see from space, one of the hurricanes in the middle of the ocean. You watched the enemy ship, with the lightsaber-bearing figure huddled on top of it, plunge into the dark clouds.

       "ANI!" you screamed, but you got no response. You urged your shaking hands to fly steady, taking a deep breath. "I am one with the Force," you told yourself, gripping the flight controls tightly. "The Force is with me."

       You lurched the ship right into the storm. Immediately, you lost control—the flight controls moved this way and that, and you tried in vain to pull them in the right direction, in any direction. You felt the ship tip to the side, at the mercy of the winds and the rain. You couldn't see anything—everything was dark, but for a moment when, far ahead of you, you saw a dramatic strike of lightning illuminate the cloud.

       "Anakin," you nervously asked the comm, but you knew it was no use. There was no way the frequency of the signal would be able to travel through this. You blinked back tears, thinking quickly as the ship rocked back and forth. You closed your eyes.

       Putting your hands on the ship's control panel, you breathed deeply. You felt the mechanism beneath you, felt outward, feeling the wind, the storm, the atmosphere. You took a moment, letting the forces of the earth acknowledge you, your ship, your passing. Slowly, carefully, you listened with the Force until you felt the edges of the storm, understood its every current, its every moving part.

       "Help me find him," you asked the ship, taking the controls with your hands, your eyes still closed. You anticipated every gust of wind before it occurred. You felt through the cloud, using your instincts, slowly riding the storm until you found what you were looking for. Your eyes shot open.

       The enemies' ship was there, beneath you, but it was falling—plunging toward the tossing sea. You guided your ship downward, toward the ship falling in a spiral. You didn't see Anakin anywhere—you could barely see anything.

       "Please," you begged—what you were asking for, and whom you were asking, you didn't know. You flew downward, engaging the tractor magnet on the bottom of your ship. Just a little closer, you urged, biting your lip in concentration, willing the enemy ship closer to yours through the Force. Finally, you heard the clank. The ship was attached.

       "Y/N!" you heard through the comms, a crackling sound drowning out whatever else was said. Relief flooded through your body.

       "Ani," you breathed, allowing the ship to guide you upward.

       "Y/N, listen to—" you heard, the crackling increasing, causing Anakin's voice to come in and out of the ship's comm. "Fly out of—" he continued, "—in the storm."

       "Don't worry, Ani," you answered calmly, "I've got this." You breathed in the Force, following the wind currents.

       "Y/N, no—" Anakin shouted, but whatever he said next was cut by the crackling. You felt the disturbance, but it was too late. Something hit the side of the ship, hard, something that caused the glass around the cockpit to crack, though the glass held, for now. As you spun out of control, the enemy's ship attached to yours, a strike of lightning illuminated the scene, and you saw it—a tentacle, larger than the storm itself, sliding back down toward the water below.

       "What is that?!" you screeched, pulling on the ship's controls.

       "Giant—" crackled through the comm, but you didn't need to know the thing's name. You pulled up as hard as you could, urging the ship away from the grasp of the beast, but it was no use. Another tentacle slammed into you, wrapping around the ship, pulling you down, down towards the head.

       "Y/N!" you heard through the comm, but the voice sounded farther away. You breathed. You felt something—a presence. It was angry.

       "It...it's creating the storm," you said, disbelieving, feeling the giant monster thrashing around you, its anger hitting the surface of the water, like giant hands splashing. You heard Anakin's voice, but didn't register what he'd said. You were falling deeper into the presence of the beast, and you felt your consciousness acknowledged.

       The way you communicated with the creature was not with words. It was a fascinating experience. You forgot, for a moment, where you were, forgot that you and Anakin were in danger. The creature's mind was unlike that of any animal or alien you'd ever encountered. The creature didn't only keep its brain in its head—you felt the mind and emotions in every tentacle, including the one wrapped around your ship. It was with this mind that you pleaded. You felt that the creature was angry, but also that it didn't have a reason—rather, this anger felt like it was a natural process, a seasonal cycle. As you waded deeper into the creature's emotions, you felt primarily that the tentacled beast was curious about you. It was unfamiliar with your kind, you found—it had never encountered another being like you, in the Force. It was clear that this beast, whatever it was, was strong in the Force. You asked it, respectfully, in its language. Please. You pleaded with it to conclude its thrashing, to stop making its storm, only for a moment. You found the being confused by this request. It didn't seem to understand that you were in danger, in its throes.

       "Y/N!" you heard through the comm. "Y/N, please, please, are you okay? Are you there?" The urgency in Anakin's voice pulled you back to the present, and it gave you a burst of feeling deep in your gut. It was this feeling, you suddenly knew, that communicated your reasoning to the creature that held you in its grasp. The creature knew the feeling coursing through you now. You felt the ship suddenly freed from its tentacle prison. Your eyes burst open.

       "I'm here," you told Anakin through the comm, as you saw the tentacles lowering into the sea and the dark electric cloud around you starting to disperse. "Everything's all right."

       "What's happening to the storm?" Anakin asked, the comm channel clearing with the cloud.

       "It would take too long to explain," you smiled, pulling the ship forward and back toward the island.

You pulled yourself up out of the cockpit, looking around at the forest clearing where you'd awkwardly landed, detaching the other ship just in time for Anakin to crash it into the forest nearby. Climbing down your ship's ladder, you saw that the bounty hunters' ship was severely damaged. Anakin was pulling himself out of the rear escape hatch, looking, to your relief, unhurt. You felt a surge of a feeling you couldn't define as you hurried toward him.

       "What did you—" Anakin started, but you cut him off, throwing yourself into his arms. Only now did you realize you had been shaking. Holding his solid figure to yours, you were finally able to breathe deeply. Your body stopped quivering. You inhaled the scent of his Jedi robes. Anakin, after a pause, hugged you back, holding you close and putting his hand on the back of your head.

       Blushing, you pulled away from him. "What was that about?" Anakin asked, chuckling, and you saw a bit of pink in his cheeks. You shrugged.

       "I'm just...glad you're okay, is all," you said, taking a step backward. "Where are the bounty hunters?" Anakin gestured toward the enemy ship.

       "I didn't have any restraining cuffs, so I had to improvise," Anakin laughed. You took a step toward the ship, peaking in to see the two unconscious forms of the bounty hunters, tied together with wire from the ship's navigational computer.

       "Oh, 'zank 'ze gods!" you heard from behind you, and you turned, seeing Theo running upward from the direction of the house. "'Ze danger 'as passed?" You nodded, giving Theo a bracing pat on the shoulder.

       "We should contact the council," you said, a lump forming in your throat. "We have their prisoners. That's a completed mission."

       "Completed?" Theo asked, his face falling.

       "Of course," Anakin responded, looking at you gruffly, before turning and putting his hand on Theo's shoulder.

       After a conversation with the holograms of Master Yoda and Master Windu, you both set about repairing your own ship. The captives, who were now awake, sat nearby, restraining cuffs around their hands and around their mouths. A Republic prison transport was en route to pick them up and take them back to Coruscant. Though they couldn't speak or sign, they both looked at you and Anakin with the death stares you'd come to associate with enemies defeated.

       "You can start it up, flea," Anakin told you, and you moved around him carefully, climbing up into the cockpit to try the engine. As you did, you felt the woman with violet eyes watching you. Her thoughts turned to Anakin, and then to you. It was clear she intuited the bond between the two of you, and her fury seared through you in the Force. In her mind, she pictured what you interpreted to be a very clear threat—you, dead at her hand, and Anakin, made to watch. Your stomach turned. You did not want this mysterious enemy to know too much about your Force gifts, so you did not turn, did not let on that you read the threat in her mind. Still, your stomach flipped. It felt like she knew.

After the necessary repairs had been made, you asked Theo to watch over the captives for a moment, only so you could gather your supplies from the house.

       "Are you thinking about what Master Windu said?" Anakin asked you quietly as you made your way through the jungle toward the house for the last time.

       "I don't understand why Master Obi Wan and Master Yuma would have gone silent." These thoughts plagued you as you stepped through the doors, heading toward the stairs so you could enter the senator's suite to pack your things. Shouldn't they have arrested that bounty hunter they'd found on Kamino, by now? Why hadn't they returned?

       "I'm sure everything is fine," Anakin said, though he didn't feel sure in his Force presence. He followed you into the suite, seeing as he was a Jedi, and everything he owned was on his person.

       "I hope you're right," you replied, sighing. You packed the senator's clothes quietly. You might miss wearing these gowns, you thought. You might miss pretending you were someone else. Your breath caught in your throat.

       "What is it?" Anakin asked, stepping forward to put his hand on your shoulder. You felt an uncertainty entering his Force presence, and he dropped his hand, taking a step back, torn between how he felt and his desire to respect your wishes.  

       "I just realized that we're leaving here," you said, trying not to let your feelings enter your voice. "That we're never coming back."

       "We don't know that for sure," Anakin replied. "We don't know that we'll never return." You shook your head. Anakin's thoughts swirled around, jumping from pining to grief. You had almost forgotten the conversation you had been having before the bounty hunters showed up.

       "You know," you told Anakin, closing the suitcase and turning to face him. "We're here, in the Outer Rim. There's no reason we can't make a quick...stop, before we return to the Temple."

       "Are you serious?" Anakin asked, looking you over as if looking for signs of insincerity.

       "Absolutely," you told him, looking him dead in the eye. "Tatooine is only a parsec away. And she might need us." At these words, Anakin's eyes filled with tears. You couldn't stop yourself. You once again wrapped your arms around him, putting your hands on the back of his neck. "We'll find her, and make sure she's okay," you whispered to Anakin, reassuring him about his dream, and also reassuring yourself. Your words emerged so close to Anakin's ear, you felt goosebumps pop up on his neck.

       "We are sorry to interrupt," you heard a quiet voice say from the doorway, and you broke apart from Anakin, feeling awkward. Elodie entered the room, along with Océane. "We wanted to say goodbye," Elodie said slowly. At this, Océane burst into tears.

       "Oh," you said, turning to them, tears filling your eyes. The three of you hugged, crying, blubbering words of affection. Anakin stood behind you clumsily, until a crying Océane pulled him into the hug.

       "I will never forget you," you told the girls as they led you downstairs. You turned and took one last look at the house. "I will never forget this place."

       The girls followed you up to your ship, up to where Theo was overseeing the captives being led onto the Republic prison transport. After assuring you that the captives would remain secure until they reached the capital, you and Anakin waved to the pilots and the guards as the transport took off.

       "If you ever need anyzing," Theo said, taking you into his arms, "anyzing at all, you are welcome 'ere always." Theo shook Anakin's hand.

       "We are your family," Elodie said through her tears, "and if you need us, we will be 'ere." These words brought tears to your eyes all over again. You wished, so dearly, that you could say the same, but you couldn't return this sentiment. You couldn't tell these wonderful people that you would be there for them—the Jedi lifestyle didn't allow for such promises.

       "Take care of each other," you told them through your tears. Anakin patted you awkwardly as you wiped your eyes.

       "Goodbye, dear ones," Theo called as you climbed into the gunner seat, opposite Anakin's pilot seat. You waved as the cockpit closed, and kept waving as the ship took off, watching Theo, Océane and Elodie becoming dots below you as the ship rose into the atmosphere. You leaned to the side, trying to take in your last glimpses of Levangé as the ship pulled higher. You looked at the beautiful islands, the blue sea, and the dark storm clouds that dotted the horizon. You weren't sure, but you thought you could see the form of a tentacle moving in one of the hurricanes. You hadn't told a lie. You would never forget this place.

       As the ship pulled out of the atmosphere and you saw space in front of you, you felt Anakin pause in the pilot's seat.

       "Are you sure about this?" Anakin asked. "We could get into a lot of trouble."

       "Yes, I'm sure," you told him. A burst of feeling entered your presence, and you allowed it to fill the cockpit without withdrawing it. You wished you could give him more than this—wished you could take away his every bad feeling. If anything, you could give him peace. You could help him find his mother. "To Tatooine."

************************************************************************

attack of the clones is UNFOLDING, y'all. i promise we are almost done with pining. we really are! but this is the story and this is how it happens and the waiting is the fun of it. gotta make the reader pine a bit too 😈

NEW CHAPTER OUT NOW

divider credit to @racingairplanes

taglist: @iyoogi @cluelessgurl @layazul @annadastra @graciexmarvel @galaxiasy @organasith @indigoblues1207 @outoftheregular @katsukiswrld @prettyboyrryy @jellydodger @wildflower57 @padmeamidalaslover @em-asian @heavenseraph @iloveinej @leapofblank @sahverah @elsyyie @usuallyunlikelyfox @jadeonce @papadragun @dopejellyfishfury @stxrrielle @lilianashomaresparza @prettylittlecarstairs @deadunicorn159 @atoelicker @arelisskywalker @maythefloorbewithyouanakin @your-local-crzy-lady @dontmindme262 @xenochuguardian @cassiopeiashift @allihavenegativethoughts @hamiltonwc @1-800-nostalgiaaa @heyitsaloy @haydenchristensenluvbot @sunflwrsunnieshine @muthafuckingstargirl @window-to-nothing @shadowhuntyi @jedi-archives @inmourningforanakin @vivsmcdo @betrund @ahqkas @aquaamethyst96 @escapepoet @randomstuff2040 @kenjikishimotosupremecy @nycweb-slinger @anxlaufeyson @magic-magnoliaa @theezlife @unipugrose22-blog @anhsoka @lucyysthings @hopefulpursepeanutdeputy @captainson-of-coul @zelzablues @chrisevansslutttt2

#anakin x reader #fanfiction #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #hayden christensen #star wars #star wars prequels #anakin #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker imagines #anakin angst #anakin fluff #slow burn #angst #mutual pining #fluff #friends to lovers #rivals to lovers #anakin x y/n #anakin x fem reader #anakin x you #my very soul #reader insert #sw fanfic #anakin fanfic #sw fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars art #star wars writing

[chaoticdean]

This was my first op of the con and I was determined to get my hug pose. It was also my birthday, which I told Jensen when I walked up to him. He had that huge smile on his face, exactly the one you see on the pic, when his entire face lit up before he said “OHMYGODHAPPYBIRTHDAY” in like one go. It ended up being my least favorite op of the weekend, but it does say a lot about the quality when I don’t even hate myself on this, I just wish my face was different (which is a whole other issue 😂). I also walked off with a huge heart and so much love for this dude being the kindest guy I’ve ever met (and honestly? At this point, I have met A LOT). Anyway peep the Destiel flannel and the Angel Cas tee by @sailorsally 🫶🏻

For this OP we were told they weren’t doing poses unless it was really quick, so I shoot my shot: I walked up to them and asked “could you guys adopt me for like, half a second here and pretend that I’m your kid?” Danneel absolutely bursted out laughing and Jensen had that huge smile on his face before telling me “of COURSE we will” before we went in quick for a pose. I love this one, I’m gonna frame it and pretend they’re my host family from far away or something.

This was my first pic on Sunday. I wanted something a little different and I really liked my outfit. Based on my autos I had with Danneel the day before and the panel she had with J, I knew she was a very attentive and kind-hearted person, so I just walked up to her and asked if we could just hold hands. She recognized me from the day before and immediately went “of course let’s do that!” Now, most celebs, once the photog is done, go into next next next mode; not Danneel. She waited for me to turn and say goodbye before releasing my hand from hers, and not before squeezing it so tight it felt like a hug 🥹 Anyway I love her, she’s a goddess, please bring her to more cons so she can feel even more love.

Idk what to say about this one, apart from the (very visible imo) fact that Jensen was absolutely delighted when I said “you go in the middle this time, we’re gonna bear hug you”. Ruthie’s so vibrant and I’m just happy to be around. A witch, a hunter and little old chaoticdean. ❤️

What to say except that this is my favorite con pic ever? I asked if I could perch on his shoulder and he could act like my bodyguard. I had no idea what face he was making until I picked up the photo from the desk two hours afterwards. That’s Dean. That’s Dean being my bodyguard. So from here on out, every hate I ever get? You’ll have to go through him first. And something tells me he’s not gonna let it slide. ❤️

Please don’t repost without proper credit. All photos taken at Crossroads 6, Brighton Hilton Metropole (UK) on March 11th and 12nd 2023.

#crossroads #crossroads 6 #cr6 #my ops #photo ops #spn con #jensen ackles #danneel ackles #jensen and danneel #Jenneel #ruth connell #the Ackles #my face

[fallenclan]

OHHH RAMKIT HAS MY WHOLE HEART... BLOWING YOU UP FOR CINDERKIT OTTERSLIP PARALLEL PANEL THE OTHER DAY ALSO!!!!! THEYRE BOTH IMMENSELY SWEET...

And ohhhh... Yewberry apprentice!! Purroud of him... Absolutely ADORE Thistlepaw also, their traits are incredibly endearing - ALSO LEFT THIS ASK SITTING FOR A DAY SO JUST SLIGHTLY OUTDATED BUT BOULDERSTEP EARLY GRADUATION? INCREDIBLY PROUD OF HIM FUCK YEAH :3 oh he's doing so well... It seems like he's acclimating okay after a moon, it's good to see. (AND he got the good kitsitter trait... Ue ue ue.)

BUT! The point of this ask. I like to imagine Boulder and Thistle might get on okay as both newcomers around the same age... Boulderstep trying to find his place in Fallenclan, having hailed from the clan they're at war with, Thistlepaw abandoned and having to find her place in a clan at all - I think the commonality would be a good bonding point! Boulder not having to worry as much about being scrutinized for his origins and any little differing quirks of clan culture, Thistle getting to share time with a peer going through a similar struggle - both were made to leave their homes, one way or another. Plus I think the ambitious trait could be a good foil to the gloomy one... Hehe. I just think they could be comrades

(Thistlepaw - gloomy - quick to make peace) (Boulderpaw - ambitious - active imagination - good hunter)

(^ forgot to get one for boulderstep but if I leave to I'll lose ask progress. Alas)

ALSO how is Yewberry doing with both kits and an apprentice simultaneously? Optional (squishing him)

(this one's kinda a mess apologies) (- 🐈‍⬛)

AA black cat im always so happy to get an ask from you. you have so many good thoughts

boulder and thistle WOULD BE and ARE best friends ever. you're so right the fact that they're both technically outsiders would be such a good bonding point for them,, AND they both joined so close together!! i feel like boulder would acclimate a little quicker since he's used to a clan life (albeit a different sort) and then could do a lot to help thistle acclimate as well. them <33

FUN FACT FOR YOU. exactly one moon after Boulder's apprentice ceremony his trait changed from ambitious to insecure,, little sad for him but also gets along well with Thistle's nervous trait. both silly shy little fellas who want to do the best for their new clan

YEW IS DOING WELL!! he's currently giving advice to someone but i wont post the screenshot because the cat is spoilers :) but looking at Thistle's history now that she's a warrior (im a few moons ahead) i think he did an excellent job. and he's close to both of his kits still! proud of him

#fallenasks #black cat anon

[moodymisty]

✗ ERROR 158 ✗

Author's Note: Some fluff between the smuts and what is more than likely going to be the first part of an ongoing series of loosely tied together Echo one shots because I love him and have zero self control. The planet in this is loosely inspired by the CCSD footage for season 2.

Summary: Omega decides to play matchmaker.

Relationships: Tbb!Echo/Fem!Reader

Warnings: None really, other than Omega being a little devil and some fluff

Word count: 2227

Echo had spent time on planets of pretty much every common climate one could think of. Though out of them all, tropical planets would have to be his personal favorite. He never had the time to enjoy it when he was part of GAR, but now that he did...

The sound of water hitting against the beach, rustling of tropical plants in the wind, and that fresh smell of seawater. It was pleasant, unlike the constant pouring rain and storming he’d gotten so used to on Kamino. Part of him had considered taking a dip in the ocean, though he wasn’t quite sure how exactly his menagerie of cybernetics would react to the salinity in the water.

They also had far more important things to do than trot around like this was some sort of vacation, even though he’d caught both you and Omega dipping your feet in the water twice already. Tech had scolded the two of you saying there was multiple carnivorous creatures in the water of the planet and to get out, though you were both pretty sure he was just upset you were just taking a break.

Echo had actually just spotted the two of you quickly drying off your legs and admiring some shells you’d both picked up, and Echo decided to keep quiet and help you avoid Tech’s ire. Hunter is fixing one of their blasters while Wrecker is attempting to bench increasingly heavier and heavier crates. Meanwhile Tech is working on a personal project, while also looking over whatever study material he’d given Omega awhile back.

Overall things just feel, nice.

For at least five minutes it doesn’t feel like everyone is hot on their heels, trying to gun them down the minute they have the chance. Echo is just relishing in the time to just breathe.

At least until you’re no longer the one keeping Omega entertained, and she wanders her way to him while he’s halfway underneath the Marauder’s control panel in the cockpit. She peers around attempting to see what he’s doing, and Echo takes a glance to see her standing there. The bottoms of her trousers are wet, from where the waves lapped higher than expected.

“Has the ‘carnivorous wildlife’ decided to take a chunk out of either of you yet?” Omega rolls her eyes, remembering when Tech had said that not long ago.

“We didn’t see anything, I don’t get what he’s so worried about.” Echo adjusts underneath the control panel.

“You two better hope there’s nothing, or that’ll be one awful ‘I told you so’.” Echo can’t help but laugh at his own little joke, before watching the way Omega shows off one of the shells she’d found on the beach. She pulls out another you’d found and given to her, admiring the way the opalescence shines on the inside of the shell. Omega had lived pretty much every moment of her life stuck in a lab on Kamino, and still found so many things exciting and brand new. You enjoy doing those things with her, and Echo finds it endearing.

“That’s what she said, but I don’t really think she believes Tech either.” Omega puts the shells back in her pockets and watches the way Echo had quite visibly perked at your mention. If he was interested before, he very much was now that you were part of the conversation. It’s hard for him to help himself from doing, even as he attempts to busy himself with working on this mess of wires.

“You know,”

Omega’s rocking back and forth on her heels, hands behind her back while wearing a curious and hopeful expression. Echo hums in acknowledgment of her, but she doesn’t have his full attention yet.

“She really likes you...”

Echo crooks his torso to the side and looks out from underneath the control panel and gives Omega an almost sympathetic look.

“Yeah, she’s nice.”

The sentence is short, but he means no snide undertone to it. You were nice; Nice to all of them, all the clones before everything happened, to him. Even after Skako Minor when he’d scared the life out of you with the way he looked so different. Nice to all of them after they’d dragged you into this mess, someone who wasn’t even part of GAR to begin with. Omega however seems displeased anyways, and her knowing smile goes away replaced with a furrowed brow.

“No, not like that,” Echo turned away to work on the ship, though he does give her a glance from the corner of his eyes that reads unimpressed and a bit suspicious.

“I mean, she likes you.”

Omega emphasizes and leans in closer, though once again fails to get Echo to give her anything but yet another shake of his head.

“She’s just nice, you’re reading too deep into it.” She’s a kid, Echo just figures she’d managed to watch a cringey holodrama for teens on the net in their few moments of downtime and now has all these silly ideas in her head. Meanwhile Omega crosses her arms and looks over her shoulder. You’re talking to Wrecker, and with him being so loud you’re completely distracted.

“I know that she draws a lot of art when we’re in hyperspace,” Omega takes a cautious step closer so she can be quieter, meanwhile Echo adjusts to try and get a better angle on whatever he’s fixing. There’s a cord deep inside the control panel he needs to get to, but it requires him to really reach inside...

“I saw what she’s been making; Most of them are of you.”

WHAM!

Finally, now she has Echo’s interest. Almost too much of it however, as Echo suddenly knocks his head into the underside of the control panel with a grunt of pain. Omega looks almost concerned for a moment, before Echo asks:

“She does?”

The pain hasn’t even faded from his forehead, but he’s far more interested in this. He can’t help it; Can’t help the weak spot he has for you, and the way his heart slammed against his chest at the idea that you’d been watching and drawing him when he hadn’t been paying attention. How you found anything inspirational about him he had nary a guess, but in a way that is so hopelessly love struck he can’t say he minds in the slightest.

“Yeah, when we were walking on the beach yesterday she was talking about how she really likes you and that-” Echo turns to try and look at her more face on, even if he’s still on his back. He just hopes that his face doesn’t visibly show how surprisingly warm it feels on his cheeks.

“Omega… If she told you something in confidence-” She quickly moves her hands to shush him. He feels he makes the right choice in telling her to not gossip, but Echo can’t help but really want to know what you’d said.

“I didn’t say anything! I was just, telling you that she makes a lot of nice art.” She’s clearly hiding a smile, even if she’s attempting to hold a stoic face.

And while Echo thinks he probably shouldn’t be, he can’t help but feel his heart race a little faster a the idea that you might maybe like him. But that’s something he’s thought for awhile, long before they’d ended up here.

Omega seems to use his silence as the perfect time to leave, trying to find something to maintain her curiosity now that she’s dropped this heavy tidbit of information onto him.

Echo silently gets back to work, letting out a long but quiet sigh. There’s so many things to get done, and he hasn’t the time to think about silly things. As he does so he takes note of the peaceful quiet in the ship, though there is sound not long after.

There’s footsteps coming closer, and he can tell by the pattern that it’s more than likely you. Your voice speaking up affirms the suspicion, and also increases his heart rate dramatically.

“You two have a good chat?” Echo reaches for another tool with his good hand and hums, seeing your legs standing beside his own. You soon decide to sit down, cross-legged beside his knees now more at face level for him.

“Yeah, just told her to watch out for the carnivorous wildlife.” If he was anticipating the sentence to get a reaction out of you he succeeded; Watching your face and seeing the way you sigh and rub your hands against your face and groan.

“Ok, if one more person mentions this I swear I will actually go insane. The one in a million chance of getting wounded by a rogue carnivorous fish has become the hot topic of this ship for far too long.”

He laughs at the way you clearly seem to be at your wits end when it comes to that whole thing, and you both stop talking for a moment until Echo does finally speak back up. It takes him a moment to find the way he wants to word this, and hoping it doesn’t come out completely love struck.

“She uh, did tell me something.”

You hum, perking up a little as you look at him. He stops working on what he’d been doing for a moment, pulling out from underneath the control panel to sit up and look you more head on. There’s a little bit of something, probably lubricant, on the side of his cheek that he hadn’t noticed yet.

“She said that you, were making art of me.” he says, and your face instantly starts feeling boiling hot.

Echo was never supposed to find out about that! It was just some dumb thing you’d been doing to pass the tons of boring time in hyperspace, and that you’d probably delete and pretend never existed. They were a sign of your hopelessly bleeding heart and feelings, and not something that Echo was ever supposed to hear. Though the absolute embarrassment you let out a tense breath of air through your nose.

“I swear, that little-” You cover your mouth with your hand, feeling more than a little bit embarrassed. Part of you wants to just run, but you’d have to come back here anyways, you couldn’t just become one with the wilds.

You’d just, casually mentioned it to Omega, and in that moment had completely forgotten that she might end up telling him. The way Echo had said it sounded like you were a creep staring at the back of his head non-stop, which was exactly the opposite of what you wanted to be to him. You’re so stuck reeling in your own embarrassment you almost don’t hear Echo speak again.

“That was stupid I really shouldn’t have said that-” You’re shaking your head and hands, squeezing your eyes shut and sighing.

“No no it’s fine just, Maker now you probably think I’m creepy or somethin-”

“No!” His sudden outburst startles you, enough so that he quickly backtracks.

“I mean, no. I don’t find it creepy. I think it’s kind of flattering, actually. Didn’t think I was anything worth doing art of.” It’s nice to hear that he doesn’t think you’re weird, but his self-deprecating attitude is a little concerning.

“I think you are.” You say, voice quieter than it had been earlier. Echo laughs, rubbing the area when his skin meets his scomp link attachment.

“Well, you’re the first then.”

He’s smiling at you, and you can’t help but smile back even as your face grows hot. You’ve always had a bit of a crush on Echo, ever since you first met him, so you can’t help but feel your heart flip in your chest.

Interrupting your moment is the distant sound of Omega’s voice, demanding someone to ‘keep out’. Her plea seems to go largely unanswered however, as both Hunter and Tech push by her anyways, and see you and Echo sitting on the floor in the cockpit. Tech is just here to grab something and leave, meanwhile Hunter lingers.

“Up to something in here? Omega was really keen on keeping us all out.” You were going to scold that girl for sure, but also sneak her a high five for letting you get this moment alone with Echo.

“Oh, us? Nah we’re not up to anything.”

Hunter doesn’t seem to be entirely convinced, but lets the topic drop. You turn back to Echo and smile, covering your mouth as you try not to let out a laugh. Once Hunter leaves you both alone again, you move to get onto your knees but not leave quite yet.

“I’ll go help them and leave you with, whatever you’re working on down there.” Echo partly doesn’t even remember what he had been doing; Most of the time he’d been too distracted by the thought of you.

Before you move to get back to your feet you lean inward, putting one hand on Echo’s shoulder and leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. It’s afterward you quickly get up and scurry away, leaving Echo alone again.

Echo swears he can still feel your soft lips on his cheek, even know he logically knows it isn’t the case. His throat his tight and he swallows, laying back down to try and get back to work.

Echo was already having enough trouble trying to keep his head on straight but now? Knowing that you felt the same as him?

#just needed to write some fluff because I’ve been feeling pretty bad lately /rip #mywriting #tbb x reader #reader insert #the bad batch x reader #echo x reader #Echo/Reader #tbb echo x reader #reader

[cantsomeoneelsedoit]

Ch 28: Crimson Bullet

So much to talk about in this chapter, and yet I'm sitting here wondering if maybe I should've used a hamster for Fuuko...

Andy and Rip's attacks clash against each other in a cool panel, but Andy is still weighed down by his two passengers.

Fuuko kisses his cheek to call down a meteor, hoping to end the fight quickly. Add this to the list of things that blew Chikara's mind today.

Rip and Latla sure seem like a couple! I wonder...

Chikara begins to doubt himself, but Andy reassures him with an interesting choice of words:

"The three of you guys have got what it takes to put your lives on the line and act to help others. No matter the era, when it comes time to seal the deal, folks like that always deliver!"

That's awfully optimistic, Andy.

But Andy's been around a long time, and I'm sure he's seen people accomplish great things together. In a lot of ways, his pep talk here is one of the themes of the entire story: working together.

Which is what makes it interesting when we look at Rip and Latla. Can Andy's statement apply to them?

Rip does care for his team. He called out for Feng and Creed when they got snatched by Tatiana, and he stole weapons for them. He also gave Latla his jacket and has carried her around the sky protecting her. Latla, as I said in the last chapter, has done almost every action for the benefit of Rip.

But they're not exactly throwing themselves in front of knives for each other, either. Rip and the Negator Hunters are written as a counter to the Union's altruism, especially with their super vague goal of revenge against the world, a goal that infuriates our most prosocial character, Fuuko. I wonder what it is that Rip actually wants and how he really feels about the people around him.

Back to the story, the force of the meteor pushes Andy away from Rip and into position to take aim with a new attack: Crimson Bullet. Because using it actually impairs his healing abilities, it doesn't count as a healing technique and is an effective attack on Rip. The technique also depends on Andy having allies who can help him during the recovery period, and he's confident enough in them to use it as a last resort.

And it works!

Villains baffled by teamwork. Gets 'em every time!

Masterpost

#undead unluck #overreading undead unluck #undead unluck spoilers