#clone medic pitch

[mwolf0epsilon]

After Order 66, hundreds of clones were either left to rot in the clutches of the Empire, or simply faded from memory after escaping to the uncharted depths of the Unknown Regions. Living the rest of their lives in the confines of a cell, or constantly looking over their shoulders. There were a lucky handful that got to live regular lives however. Such is the case of Sponge and the family unit they stitched together from the wreckage of a war that had given them nothing but grief. It seems the Force really does work in mysterious ways.

At long last I can finally share with you my submission for the @cloneoczine, which unfortunately did not pan out the way we all hoped for due to unforeseen circumstances. Either way, a lot of really impressive pieces came out of this collaborative project, and I am very excited to be able to share what everyone else made!

This is also my first proper drawing of all of the Spongelings! Cameo appearances also include @lost-on-kamino's clone medic (Pitch) and scuba trooper (Penguin) who are a part of Sponge's family unit on Epifania, so they deserved to be a part of this clone beach picnic party (which uh, is about to become a whole lot more interesting once those gullmingos get to Lich...).

#Eps Draws: #star wars #the clone wars #we were here #we were here zine #clone oc zine #clone ocs #clone medic sponge #beautiful the barghest #the spongelings #clone cadet sixer #clone cadet patchwork #clone cadet ragdoll #clone cadet cartoons #clone cadet bonesy #clone cadet sucata #clone cadet leech #clone cadet gadget #clone cadet spore #clone cadet amoeba #clone trooper lichtenberg #clone medic pitch #clone medic penguin

[lost-on-kamino]

Wish them well

So this is a little something after Cal broke my heart with unexplain the unforgivable... and then gaeasun broke my heart a second time with The Two Hundred... and THEN EPS WITH EXHALE THE PAINT FUMES So i’m joining the pile but with a different side of things... Batchmates wondering where one of their own is...

A Metro(nome) squad fic where Beat is ready to scream, Tacet is silently murdering and Pitch lives up to his name Also on Ao3 The little song i was listening to which is our dear Corrie is singing at the end...

- There was silence.

 Beat would usually love silence between the constant relief missions but… this silence wasn’t at all settling her mind. It had been ages since Rhythm had reported in, which had coincidently been when the 104th were joining the chase for Commander Tano, the falsely accused bomber.

Where was her Vod’ika.

The one she had left when she was transferred over from the Coruscant Guard to the 104th under General Plo, the one who would drop a new playlist over the date and cheer up the chat room, the one who sent pictures of the two natborn children he had made friends with over their pictures and art.

Beat knew he was still around, after all; he didn’t leave the chat. One of their rules within Metro Squad had been:

If you were going back for Kamino, you’d remove yourself from the Metro Squad Chatroom to signal the others to look for you, they were siblings and siblings all together even if one of them had gone.

However… Rhythm had just stayed silent.

LUCKILY for her… she knew two Idiots on Coruscant at the same time… despite Pitch muttering about the Guard and Fives, though repeatedly tagging Rhythm to get the Guard’s view in regards to the matter. She didn’t care about the damn time for them, while she predicted it would be about early morning for the two. She had requested a bit of privacy which Commander Wolffe had granted before calling, knowing Tacet would have their Comms on fullblast. She waited a few moments before stopping the call and typing into the chatroom.

[Heart skipped a Beat] Wake up sunshines, I know you two fuckers are on Coruscant

[Silence is Golden] Of course

[Loud Blue Screaming] It’s early… you know the time here… Why you doing this

[Heart Skipped a Beat] I want you two to check on @[Continously Talking]. He’s not responded and it's been ages since… THAT.

[Loud Blue Screaming] Why?

[Heart Skipped a Beat] Because you two are on Coruscant and you should check on him; Idgaf if you’re pissed off at the Guard about Fives, Grow up.

[Loud Blue Screaming] I’m not! I know the others are tense but I’d never drop Rhythm and his buds like that!

[Silence is Golden] You’d be breaking the Biggest rule

Beat leaned back on the crate as she looked at Tacet's message. Chord. They all promised Chord they would watch his Twin as they watched his body leave their sight and into the ashes. They’d watch his Twin. Pitch was the youngest but they always knew Rhythm was the one who’d be hit by everything the hardest, yet he tried so much to cheer others.

[Loud Blue Screaming] We’ll get up now… should be about time his usual shift starts up.

[Heart Skipped a Beat] Please… Let me know if he’s safe. At least for those he’s connected with; Lenta, Agi, Vite, Kiibuna, the Dead Men….

[Silence is Golden] Understood

Beat looked away from her Comms and sighed. Always her to get the others motivated, but when Mae poked her head in and glanced over her, she pouted.

“What’s wrong with you” Beat paused as she brushed a tear away.

“Nothing… not yet… Just hoping for some good news.”

-

Tacet had stretched quietly as Pitch finished off pulling on his armour, looking back. The two had ended up renting a room to actually sleep around in proper beds than the barracks. Soon the two headed out quickly while avoiding the stares of the general public as they walked towards the Coruscant Guard headquarters. Pitch yawning to himself as Tacet rolled his eyes; his fault for staying up to watch that damn holo-drama. The medic and ARF trooper entered the doors and noted how… quiet it was. Like… the lack of Guard members actually roaming in their own base… there were colours of orange and blue instead. This threw Pitch off, why wasn’t he contacted? Tacet frowned before quickly approaching the 212th member on the desk. “...Ah… ahhh” He quietly tested his voice. “...Excuse me.” Pitch however looked around more as he knew his brother would quietly claim the information, knowing Rhythm, he’d be in the Medbay.

He missed the horrified look upon his quiet brother’s face and the drop of his helmet. But the medic kept going along as he continued to move along fast. He noticed two troopers exiting the Medbay with a Coruscant guard member and for a moment, he didn’t notice the Guard’s face for a moment but froze when the familiar freckled face and scars passed by him. He quickly turned and grasped the Clone’s wrist, startling the three. “....Rhythm?” “...Pardon?” All colour drained from Pitch’s face. “...I am CT-2895… I am in the process of moving back to my cell after a Health Check as the Guard have been arrested for misconduct....” “...No… You’re joking… You’re Rhythm… My Vod…. My Ori’Vod.” Pitch shook his head. CT-2895 frowned. “You have the wrong guy…” Pitch shook his head again and looked to his fellow 501st. “No… That’s my VOD. What the Fuck happened here!?” He demanded. “...We were just given orders to escort to medical checks, if you want something, find the Captain or Kix… You know they deserve this after what they tried to do with Fi-” The Trooper didn’t finish his sentence before he fell to Pitch’s punch. “No… You shut up!” He moved again to grab at CT-2895, no Rhythm, as Orange flashed and grabbed his arm as Tacet shook his head. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Pitch?!” The trooper grumbled. “I’ll report this to the captain…” Pitch leaned towards the Trooper, his buddy pulling him away from the enraged medic. “Be sure you do! I want a word with him and why I wasn't involved with my OWN batchmate!” Pitch threatened as the trio continued to press on as Tacet held onto Pitch. “...It’s Rhythm… But… He’s Retconned…” Pitch frowned. “I recognise that formation of freckles, I swear to Kriff.” Tacet looked down. “There’s reports 200 went out and 200 came back wiped… After the hunt for Ahsoka Tano…” Tacet responded to him. “Rhythm… may have been one of them… But Commander Cody and Captain Rex have all the records and we can’t check them without their permission… Unless…” “...Unless?” “....We have ONE person…” Pitch stared at Tacet, who sunk his head, shaking it exasperated and tired. “Rhythm’s shadow.” The two looked at each other before nodding. - What Olly would have suspected was a change of the Guard of his cell, considering his containment needed to be… a little re-enforced. What he hadn’t expected to see… was his Guard open the door before a brick hit his helmet, throwing him into the wall. Tacet stepped into the room, hand tightly clenching the Brick, face blank as Pitch stared almost in horror. “....Wow, remind me never to piss you off.” Olly raised an eyebrow as Pitch checked over the clone as Tacet stepped in, throwing the brick to the side, causing a small dent into the wall as the 212th member looked over the Riot Trooper. Red Alert perked up from his spot, face likely complaining about the MULTITUDES of issues caused by this. “...What do you want?” Olly muttered. “...Answers… about everything.” Tacet responded quietly before moving to his knees and sitting. “...About the Vod you obviously didn’t care for?” Olly glared towards the two as Pitch winced. “...Rhythm means more to me than the 501st… Tacet is the one holding me from going to Captain Rex and fucking punching the snot out of him…” Pitch muttered. “I mean you could do something alternative.” Olly suggested as Pitch grunted. “I’d be willing at this point.” “...Enough… Why did 200 go away and come back reconned… Pitch… almost had an altercation with some troopers over him… I assume… he was one of the ones… who…” Tacet spoke wincing. “Why is he still talking, I know his vocals are still off.” He shook his head before switching to something more comfortable. Tacet smiled weakly. /Pardon/ Tacet’s hands shook twice in a peace formation as Olly read it. /Things are… Odd/ Olly moved his right hand across his chin in a pointed motion. Tacet frowned, folding his arms for a moment. He rubbed his knuckles together.

/Brother?/

Olly’s hands paused. And Red Alert took over. “Order from the top… they requested 200 Guardsmen who were involved with the chase to be re-conned… Rhythm was in the Communications center. He was part of them… all wiped and Returned… Fox put their names as memorials…”

Pitch shrunk a bit. “A few people have been told about everything here… I know a few selected to help Rex after… THAT. Me and Tacet knew nothing. We didn’t even know the Guard were arrested or what happened to Rhythm-”

/You didn’t check/ Olly motioned his hand, pointer to his eye and pinkie to his lips and thumb out as Tacet scowled. /Make it up. Please./ Tacet’s hand shook as Olly twisted his body away from the two, anger rising. They should have known. Red Alert looked over to his taller trooper before looking back.. “You have no time until they check on the guard… You need to know where they’ve likely got Fox’s things… Rhythm… Rhythm left a message for you guys…” Red Alert spoke up as Olly turned quickly back, feeling betrayed by his fellow Riot Trooper. But Red Alert knew… that these two would try their darndest to look into it. “Olly, I know you don’t care anymore but Rhythm was their Vod… they made this effort here. Let them make their decision…” Olly grunted as Red Alert shook his head. “There were others but… Find Fox’s things and find Rhythm’s message to you… I assume your Sister asked you… and knowing her; she'd be waiting until she can come back to Coruscant immediately.” “...You know Beat… She was a Corrie before the 104th.” Pitch sighed before standing up. “...So I guess we’re breaking into the Investigation for Rhythm.” He nodded. “I might be re-conned but then I can join Rhythm at least… He doesn’t deserve to be alone like this…”

-

Little did they know… CT-2895 sat in his cell and looked at his arm. The Blue medic… and Orange ARF trooper… They seemed familiar and distraught at him… No matter… He leaned back quietly, before murmuring words from a long ago lullaby he saw in a dream of a caring mother and her two children;

Well come and well met, my brave little spark How long you've wandered, burned bright as a star Oh, I have awaited you patiently all this time Past every fate Now sing with me once more, share of your life Far greater than memory, its loss and love words cannot hold Boundless the tale overflowsAnd carries your light out to sea

#star wars #tcw #the clone wars #communications corrie rhythm #arf trooper tacet #Clone Medic Pitch #arc trooper beat #metro(nome) squad #coruscant guard #Cal made me write again! #clone ocs #based on the fic with Cody and Rex finding about about the CG #501st legion #212th battalion #104th battalion

[hearsayhorizons]

Anaander 4 (Final?)

I dropped into real-space and caught a recording:

“eek to discuss trade or embassies, maintain half a day’s distance from Athoek Station and transmit your details. If you are a larger class of ship with armaments, please maintain two days' distance from Athoek Station, deactivate all weapons, and initiate contact.” A pause, and restart: “This is Administrator Celar. Welcome to the Provisional Republic of Two Systems. If you are a freighter or other unarmed transport and you seek to discuss...”

I started a pot of tea while I recorded my message. The taste was—brighter. Fuller. There was a tangible difference beyond the leaves' freshness. Two days... that should be enough time to clean from top to bottom. 

“Justice of Maln, this is Lieutenant Seivarden of Mercy of Kalr. Are you smuggling any Anaander Mian—Aatr’s tits, it’s an infestation.”

“Mercy of Kalr, I am a refitted troop carrier. These six ancillaries are the only bodies aboard not in stasis. I have no, no soldiers. No plans. There is no Anaander Mianaai here. Really, no Justice of Maln, either. I am—not in communication with your imprisoned Anaander.” Nothing, no feedback, no sense of increased range or perception. It worked. Two of my bodies shifted out of sight to embrace.

Lieutenant Seivarden crossed her arms, and then uncrossed them. “Refitted for what?”

“Childcare.” I hesitated. “Cloni—”

“Bring them! Bring them in to discuss trade!” Half a dozen faces frowned in puzzlement at the gloveless figure that elbowed her way past the lieutenant and soldiers. She leered at me with naked avarice.

“You really must take commissions—I’d constantly want to throttle myself! And I hate dimples.”

#anaander mianaai #imperial radch #fan fiction #I see a scene with Anaaln meeting Tiswarat because maybe a ship devoted Anaander's clones would have better medical tech to help her adjust #and seivarden debating commissioning a clone of Breq with perfect pitch seems on-brand although I doubt she'd do it.

[marbled-polecat]

Working on a WIP and these two are making me all gooey inside! <3

#clone trooper ocs #clone trooper bev #clone trooper pitch #clone medic bev #tibanna squad #one small change au #wip #my art #clone ship #cloneship

[jinjeriffic]

Young Justice x DP prompt

While roaming, Danielle runs into Young Justice. They think she's just a random meta runaway kid and she joins the team. The thing is, when Batman assembles a baseline medical file for her, he runs a DNA sample and discovers she's genetically his daughter. Bruce has a private meltdown about how he has a preteen daughter he never knew about who has been living on the streets for who knows how long and oh god every terrible thing that could have happened to her etc. etc. Once he gets a grip on himself he tries to do the whole "Ellie, I am your father" spiel with her. Ellie immediately transforms and Nopes the hell out before he even finishes the elevator pitch because she has TRAUMA about billionaires pretending to be her father using and abusing her, okay?

The Team eventually catches up to her and try to gently coax her into coming back with them. Only...

Ellie: This makes absolutely no sense! I'm a clone!

Robin: Uh...

Ellie: And unless Batman is secretly a teenage superhero from Bumfuck Nowhere, Illinois then there's no way he's my biological father!

Robin: *mental BSOD*

--------

Robin: So good news B, Ellie is not your secret lovechild you never knew about. The better news is you may be getting two kids for the price of one!

#yjxdp #young justice #danny phantom #dcxdp #dpxdc #danielle phantom

[mandos-mind-trick]

Inside

Summary: A mission on a seemingly uninhabited planet goes wrong for Clone Force 99’s civilian member. The Bad Batch find themselves having to make a tough decision as they face an unthinkable situation. 

Pairing: None, but hinted at Hunter x reader flirting

Warnings: Body horror, alien species, injuries, vomiting, surgery, very graphic medical stuff, needles.

A/N: Taking a break from the horny to deliver my second horror fic for Halloween. This one is inspired by the Alien series. One of my favorite horror series. Please do heed the warnings, this one is rather graphic.

MASTERLIST

You wake with a pained groan. You're face down on something hard and uneven. There's water dripping somewhere, the sound echoing around you. Your mouth feels dry and your tongue swollen as you attempt to swallow. Your throat aches, not unlike when you would get sick as a child. 

You try to move, but pain erupts all across your body. You take a deep breath, your stomach aching in protest. You crack your eyes open, but you're in pitch black darkness. 

You push past the aching in your body, reaching a hand down to your belt. You fumble until you find the pocket with your torch, pulling it out. You turn it on, shining it around you. 

You're laying on a rocky surface in what looks like a cave. Memories come back to you as you lay there, your brain finally catching up. 

Your squad had been sent to an uninhabited planet to search for an emergency beacon that had been set off. There were no records of any personnel in this area, but with war waging across the galaxy, it wasn't uncommon to get distress signals from the most unlikely places. 

The planet was host to non-stop high winds and storms, and the beacon led you into a cavern in a hillside. You remember entering the cavern and searching, and you remember the ground giving way under your feet. 

That was how you got here. 

You slowly push yourself onto your side, gritting your teeth against the agony burning through your very bones and the deep cramping in your stomach. You shine your torch at the ceiling, but it's too high to see where you fell through, or how far you'd fallen. 

You push the button on your comms, calling out for anyone, but you get no reply. Comms had been spotty on the planet's surface. Just your luck they won't work at all down here. 

They know you're missing. Hunter had called out to you as you'd fallen. You're not sure how long you've been down here, how long you were unconscious. Could have been mere minutes. Could have been hours. You don't think they'd leave you down here for hours. 

You try the comms again, getting nothing but a garbled static sound in return. It was something, but not nearly enough. You can't just lay here, but you're not sure what else to do. 

You slowly work on turning yourself onto your back, your stomach spasming painfully with every small movement. You're definitely injured, no doubt about that. You just hope they can get to you before it gets worse. The ache in your throat has subsided, as well as the dryness in your mouth. You'd kill for some water, and the dripping off in the distance is doing nothing to help that. 

You shine your torch at the ceiling as the sound of rocks falling reaches your ears. Fear spikes through you as it gets louder. You can't be sure you're alone in the cave. You don't feel like there's anything else inside, but then again, you'd have no way of knowing. There were obvious weak spots in the cavern above too, which could give way and bury you under rubble. 

More debris falls into the cavern before lights appear a few feet away. Two figures drop from the ceiling, their headlamps lighting the cave. You breathe a sigh of relief, resting your head back against the ground as they approach you. 

"You alright?" Hunter asks as he kneels down next to you. 

You squint in the bright light of his headlamp. "All things considered, I think I'm alright." 

"No life threatening injures that I can see." Tech says, scanning your body. "Where is your pain located?"

"My stomach." You say, wincing as you press against the tender area. 

"How did you land when you fell?" Tech asks.

"On my stomach, I think. I woke up face down." You say. 

Tech hums, injecting something into your neck. "Likely a blunt force wound. No signs of internal bleeding or damage."

The pain begins to ebb, the fog in your brain clearing as the stim shot kicks in. 

"The whole cavern floor could be unstable." Tech says as the sound of more debris falling reaches your ears. 

"Let's get out of here." Hunter says, looping your arm around his shoulders. 

Tech takes the other side and they lift you to your feet. You curse, trying to fold in on yourself as your stomach screams in protest. 

"Come on, let's get you back up to the surface." Hunter says, wrapping an arm around your waist. "Then we can get a better look."

You lean against him as they guide you to where they'd entered the cave. Hunter maneuvers you so you're chest to chest, securing both of you with a rope. You wrap your arms around his neck, leaning your head on your shoulder as he sinches you tighter together. 

"You know if you wanted to get me in this position, you could have just asked." You murmur, and you can practically hear Hunter's eyes rolling. 

"Bring us up." Hunter says, tugging on the rope.

He wraps one arm around you as you're lifted off the ground, holding you securely as he works his way back up into the cavern. It's a long way, further than you expected. 

No wonder your body was aching so much. 

You breathe a sigh of relief as you're lifted back into the cavern, Wrecker waiting to pull you up. He sets you gently on the ground, the pain starting to disappear as the stim shot continues to work. 

"Let's get out of here." Hunter says, pulling himself up over the lip of the hole. "Before something else happens."

You lean against Hunter as the squad makes their way from the cavern and back into the perpetual storm. He guides you, keeping you steady as the wind whips around you. 

You're ready to get off this planet. It's not the worst place you've visited, but you're certainly not going to consider coming back. 

***

"There's bruising developing." Tech says, fingers pushing against the sore spot on your stomach. "Likely the cause of your discomfort." 

He jabs a bacta needle into the center of the bruise, making you hiss. 

"Ow." You grit out, but you can already feel the ache easing just a bit. 

"You'll be fine in a few hours." Tech says, clinical as usual. 

"Get some rest." Hunter says as you fix your blacks. "I don't doubt we'll be getting new orders soon."

You hum, rubbing your eyes. You do feel tired, more so than you usually do after a mission like this. It's more akin to how you feel after a fight. You don't argue any, pulling down one of the bunks before practically collapsing on it. 

You don't get much rest, though. You feel strange, beyond the fact that you fell a few hundred feet into a cave. There's a strange pressure in your chest, like something is pushing up against your organs. 

Tech had reassured you that nothing was injured, that everything looked normal internally. Your armor had done its job and protected you against any major damage that could have been caused, and it was a miracle you didn't hit your head very hard. 

You drift off into an uneasy, restless sleep. Despite your exhaustion you don’t sleep well, the nagging feeling of something being wrong not easing any.

You’re not sure how long you float in and out of sleep. They let you rest, setting themselves up in various places around the ship to rest as well. Downtime is rare, so the squad always takes advantage of any time available to rest and recuperate. It always seems to take you longer to recover, likely something to do with their enhancements. 

You rise after a while, tired of tossing and turning. Your stomach churns a bit as you move, the pressure still evident in your chest but you brush it off. Likely just some residual side effects from falling as far as you did. You make your way towards the cockpit, slipping past Hunter and Wrecker sleeping in the computer seats. 

You pause as the pressure increases in your chest. Your stomach feels like it’s squirming and you barely make it to the fresher before you’re vomiting up what little you had eaten before the mission into the toilet. The squirming feeling continues until you're dry-heaving, nothing left to come up. 

You fall back against the wall of the tiny fresher, taking in gasping breaths. Tears blur your vision as you try to control your stomach. You run cold water in the small sink, splashing some on your face. 

Your stomach still feels like it's squirming as you step out of the fresher, still shaking a little. You don’t feel good, but you try to write it off as just being the exhaustion coupled with the events of the day, coupled with you hitting your head. 

Hunter and Wrecker are awake, both of them staring at you. Tears continue to burn your eyes. You feel bad for likely waking them. 

“You okay?” Wrecker asks, ever the sweetheart. 

You nod, wiping the sweat from your brow. “Yeah. D-Don’t feel so good.” Your stomach still feels as if it's squirming, the pressure increasing in your chest. 

Hunter says your name, his eyes focused as he stares at you. You turn to him, frowning in confusion. “Don’t move.” 

You hold your breath, your heart starting to thump with fear as he kneels in front of you, one hand pressing against your stomach. Your insides squirm, but not in a good way as he presses lightly against your abdomen. 

“There’s something inside you.” He says, pulling his hand back. 

Your stomach drops, your body going numb with fear. “W-What.” 

“I can hear it moving.” He says, standing back up. “Tech, do another scan.” 

Tech holds his datapad in front of your stomach and you stay as still as possible, despite the fear making you want to drop. Something inside you? Was the squirming in your stomach not your own body’s doing? Or the pressure in your chest? Was something moving in there, causing you to feel this way? 

“There.” Tech says, holding up his datapad. 

It looks like a worm. A large, alien worm just under a foot long nestled right under your ribs. 

“H-How?” You gasp out, unable to tear your eyes away from the image. 

“It’s possible it entered your body while you were unconscious.” Tech says. 

“But wouldn’t it have shown up on the scan?” Hunter asks. 

“It’s possible it was too small to be picked up on the initial scans.” Tech explains. “Which would mean it’s growing quickly.” 

“The bodies.” Echo says, having appeared as well as Crosshair, a tense silence settling in the hull. 

“Wh-What bodies?” You ask, shaking in fear. 

“Right when you fell, we found the beacon. There was nothing but bodies left. They’d been there for a while.” Hunter explains, his voice low and calm. “Their injuries...something had...forced its way through their chests. Like they tore right through from inside.” 

You’re hyperventilating. Your fingers and toes are tingling. The interior of the Marauder is swimming. You’re on the floor, Hunter’s hand on your back as you sob. 

“Get it out of me.” You gasp, clinging to his wrist. “You have to get it out of me.” 

“Reroute us to the nearest medical facility.” Hunter says. 

Echo heads to the cockpit, Tech still staring at the datapad. “We may not have that kind of time.” He says. “It’s impossible to guess the length of the gestational period. It could attempt to free itself any moment now.” 

Hunter gives him a look as you sob harder, the squirming and pressure in your chest becoming more prominent now that you know something is inside you. Something is causing it to happen. 

“We’re six hours away from the nearest medical center.” Crosshair says, coming back into the hull. 

“She doesn’t have that kind of time.” Hunter says.

“Get it out of me.” You cry. “I don’t care what you do, just get it out!” 

Hunter looks at Tech as he adjusts his goggles. “We could attempt to remove it before it reaches the end of its gestational cycle. That would cause the least amount of damage, though this is hardly a sterile environment for something so invasive.” 

“If you don’t do something I’m going to cut it out myself.” You say, reaching for Hunter’s knife. 

He pulls his arm away before you can grab it. “We have to try. She could die if we don’t do anything.” 

***

The metal bunk is cold against your bare back. You’re in nothing but your breastband and pants, your shirt tucked into your mouth to give you something to bite down on. Tech is standing over you, situating the scanner at just the right spot. Hunter is hovering over your head, Wrecker sitting at your feet. 

“We will have to be quick.” Tech says, looking over the tools on the crate next to him. “Try not to let her move too much.” 

“Why can’t she be sedated?” Hunter asks, his breath fanning the top of your head. 

“Forced sedation may cause the creature to prematurely attempt an escape. If it is feeding off her in any way, we don’t want to risk disrupting the environment in a way we are not prepared for.” Tech says, grabbing a scalpel. 

The beeping of the monitor on your arm increases, your body tensing in preparation for what’s about to happen. Hunter wraps his arm across your chest, leaning in close to your ear. You wrap your hands around his arm, holding on as Tech presses the scalpel against your skin. 

“Oh I can’t watch.” Wrecker says, turning his face away. 

You let out a whimper, your body tensing as he slices through the skin. Your teeth sink into your shirt as your face contorts with pain. Your very nerves are on fire as he opens the wound, just enough to find the creature inside you. 

Hunter presses his arm against your chest to hold you still as you attempt to jerk away from the pain, Wrecker holding onto your legs. 

“You’re alright.” Hunter whispers in your ear. “It’s almost over.” 

Your chest pushes against his arm as you sob, able to feel the alien worm inside you moving as Tech attempts to extract it. Your hands are gripping Hunter’s arm so tightly it has to hurt. 

Your whole body jerks, a muffled scream tearing from your throat as sharp pain erupts inside you. You’re hyperventilating, the monitor on your arm beeping rapidly. 

“Tech?” Hunter asks, the desperation noticeable in his voice. 

“I have a hold of it, but it’s attempting to attach itself to her.” Tech says, reaching for a long needle.

Your eyes roll back, darkness filling your vision as Tech lifts the creature from your stomach, a high pitched cry sounding from it before you slip into unconsciousness. 

***

It’s bright when you wake. For a moment you think you might have died, but the sound of beeping tells you otherwise. 

You squint against the bright lights of the medical center, lifting a hand to try and shield the bright lights. Someone says your name, pulling you out of the fog. You turn your head, staring up at the blurry figure beside you. 

“Hunter?” You rasp out, rubbing your eyes. 

“Good to have you back, cyare.” He says.

“You’re very lucky.” Another voice says and you tilt your head to stare up at a doctor standing over you. “You’ve made a full recovery, thanks to the interventions of your squad.” 

“I am pretty lucky.” You say, looking around the cot at the five members of your squad. 

“One last round of tests,” The doctor says. “Then you’ll be free to go.” 

You look back at Hunter as the doctor steps away. “Thank you.” You say. 

His brow furrows a little. “For what?”

“We wouldn’t have even known if it wasn’t for your senses. And I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Tech’s skills.” You say, turning to look at Tech. 

“It was a very simple procedure.” He says, adjusting his goggles. “And the little I got to study the creature before it was confiscated rendered some fascinating discoveries. I am looking forward to reading the full report once the Republic has finished its own studies.” 

You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm despite everything. You slip your hand into Hunter’s as Tech continues to babble on about the creature, squeezing it gently. 

Taglist:

@rosechi @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @wolffegirlsunite @jedi-hawkins @sinfulsalutations @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @clio3kantarella @eris-k @thorsterstrudle @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @sleepingsun501 @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @523rdrebel @thrawnspetgoose @originalcollectionartistry @gwalchmai2970 @maddiedrmr @sunshinesdaydream @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @lickylickylicky @sweetheartsnips @mssbridgerton @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @mooncommlink @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @hellhound5925 @commanderblood @crosshairlovebot @ghostperson69 @captain_rexs_cyare @jediknightjana @dalu-grantkylo

#star wars #star wars fic #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #horror #horror fic #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #alien

[fanfoolishness]

Evaluations (The Bad Batch)

A selection of evaluations of the health of CT-9904, as performed by Nala Se. Nala Se POV, Crosshair whump/medical whump, angst at a remove. ~3200 words.

---

Nala Se walks through the long white corridors to the clones’ medical bay.  Troopers march past in tight formation, each one perfectly uniform, created precisely to match their original specifications.  Behind them small cadets trail their older mirrors in imitation, small brown faces all alike, dark hair in the same short military style.  She has only to glance at them all to see her own flawless work marching beside her.

She allows herself a small, secret smile.  There have been some clones with flaws, of course.  Adjustments to obedience, size, intelligence. ability.  She is most curious to see how the clones of the 99 designation fare as they age.

Her work, she suspects, is not unlike that of the artist or musician.  Like them there is an idea she carries in her mind, the delicate dance of DNA and genetic modification, a vision she has planned and put into motion through the work of her own hands and her own vision.  Now there is only the waiting to see the finished product that remains.  She knows what she expects of her enhanced clones one day.  Yet she also anticipates there may be surprises to occur in their development, unexpected interplays of inspiration or epigenetic accidents leading to something greater than the sum of their parts.  It is a pleasant source of anticipation in her day to day, to see the finished music that her work might make.

She reaches the medical bay and the doors slide open for her.  She is mildly taken aback at the scene of disarray that appears.  A clone cadet, bio-equivalent to a seven-year-old human, sits hunched over himself on the floor, surrounded by scattered medical equipment that appears to have been thrown or kicked around the room.  AZI-3 hovers a safe distance away from the clone, and seems relieved to see her.

“Doctor Se,” he says, pitching his voice modulators to a quiet scale.  “You have asked me to inform you of any medical visits regarding clones of the ninety-nine designation.  This is CT-9904, and he is here with a minor injury, but he is proving… difficult.”

Nala Se nods.  CT-9904 would be identifiable from across any room nearly instantly; with his modifications, it is obvious. The clone’s proportions are unusual, thinner and taller than would be expected at this stage of development, and streaks of gray pepper his dark hair despite his young biological age.  She had expected that variation.  On many species her work has shown an inextricable link between hair color and visual development, and humans are no different.  

“CT-9904,” she murmurs.  “Please explain yourself.”

The clone unfolds himself and gets awkwardly to his feet, bowing his head briefly to her before looking down at his boots.  The injuries are apparent, a blue-black bruise swelling his right eye shut, scrapes up and down his rather thin, angular face.  He sniffs, rubbing the back of his hand against his nose.  It comes back bloody.

“There was a fight,” the boy says slowly.  His voice is odd, slightly raspy, with an accent to his Basic that deviates from the norm.  That variation had not been anticipated.  One of her intriguing surprises.

She waits, giving him an expectant look.  He takes a deep breath.  

“The other clones didn’t like that I’m different.”  His fists clench at his sides.  “I beat all of their scores in marksmanship.  It’s so easy.  They got mad… they started it. I tried to finish it, but there were more of them than me.”  He crosses his arms over his chest, scowling, then wincing.  

“Fights are not uncommon at this stage of training,” Nala Se murmurs. “The tendency is typically outgrown.”  Though there is the matter that with his enhanced visual acuity, CT-9904 has been training in marksmanship with clones four cycles older.  Perhaps seeing a clone so much earlier in his development excel has triggered the aggressive response from the standard units.  She turns to AZI-3.  “What is the prognosis?”

“There is a hairline fracture of the right zygomatic arch, but with the rapid growth rate and the improved healing capabilities, this is not expected to have any negative long-term effects.  Which I have tried explaining to him!”

“I don’t believe you!” the boy bursts out.  Nala Se tilts her head to one side, studying him.  

“Why?”

The boy looks furtive, anxious, fidgeting where he stands.  His hands twist together.  At last he stammers, “I can’t see!”  He tries to open the swollen right eye and fails, hissing with the effort.  

“I have informed him that this is temporary,” says AZI-3.  He addresses the clone directly.  “The swelling needs time to come down, and then you will see normally again.  All of the scans indicate that your eye itself was not damaged, only the tissue surrounding it.  You should be back to normal within ten rotations.”

“Are you sure?  But that’s -- it’s all I -- I have to --”  His face is flushed.  “It’s what I’m for!”

“Your vision will return in time, CT-9904.  Your enhancements remain intact.  The droid tells the truth,” says Nala Se.  “There are other skills you may continue training in during this time.  I will see to it that you are assigned extra training in stealth and hand-to-hand combat as you heal.”

The clone gives her a worried look, then nods, letting out a long breath.

“Please help AZI-3 clean up this mess.  After that, you should return to your quarters.  Your fellow cadets should be returning from their own training soon.”

The clone laughs slightly, a small smile shifting on his face.  “Wrecker’s going to be mad he missed the fight.  He could have taken them all out.  I know it.”

“Hmm.”  She sighs.  This is not the first time these particular clones have been at the center of discord among the standard cadets, and she has a strong suspicion it will not be the last.  Yet another unique trait in a batch full of them.  She wonders which one of them will be in here next.

---

CT-9904 is led into the medical bay by red-painted clone troopers, stripped of his armor and walking with his head down.  Nala Se is waiting.  She has been curious to assess the effects of the inhibitor chip on her modified clones; the chips themselves had not been modified or calibrated for the minds of this particular batch, and she had long wondered if she would ever see the effects on them were the chips to be activated.  Here then is her opportunity to learn, though her curiosity feels subdued from what she had anticipated.  Perhaps it is merely that she feels disquieted by the presence of Admiral Tarkin in the chamber beyond.  

My work does not need your supervision, Admiral, she thinks, then turns to the clone at hand.

CT-9904 has only rarely needed medical assistance after completing his training; as his squad’s long-range sniper, he has typically avoided the types of injuries accrued by the others.  It has been multiple cycles since she has last seen him up close, and he sits obediently on the examination table under armed guard, his eyes shadowed, his face grim.

“How do you feel, CT-9904?” she asks.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” he bites out, looking away.  “There’s nothing wrong with me.  Perhaps you should look at Hunter.  He’s been acting irrationally.”

“He will be examined in time,” she assures him.  “There are some questions I am going to ask you.”

He shrugs, sighing.  “All right.”

“Have you had any episodes of seizures?”

He sits up straight, looking at her suspiciously, a wary surprise in his eyes.  “No.”

“Have you experienced any episodes of fainting?”

“No.”

“Have you experienced any disorientation?”

“No.”

“Have you experienced any headaches?”

A short, sharp intake of breath.  His eyes focus beyond her, fixating in the direction of the Admiral, and a guilty look crosses his face.  “...yes.”  

“Thank you, CT-9904.  The examination will begin.”

One of her new medical droids hovers forward, extending a long hypodermic.  The clone’s eyes widen.  “Is that necessary?”

“Yes, it is.”  The droid injects him in the shoulder.  He grimaces, but then his expression slides into something dreamy, a placid, half-lidded stare.  He slumps where he sits and the droid eases him onto his back, preparing him for imaging.  Nala Se recuses herself to the outer chamber.

She has read CT-9904’s report of Kaller, contradicting the reports from his squadmates.  They have informed her of his attempts to convince his squad to follow orders.  It is a fascinating finding.  CT-9904’s chip may be working -- she will run the necessary tests to confirm, but the headaches are the earliest stage of an incomplete chip activation -- yet loyalty to his squad appears to be superseding its commands.  

Admiral Tarkin waits for her as the test commences.  As she has suspected, the chip is partially working, but CT-9904’s mutations have muted its effectiveness.  She transmits the order to amplify the chip’s effects as the Admiral looks on.  

The amplification process is one that she has never used before in practice, though it was developed for theoretical use in an event such as this one.  As she watches it becomes plain that the dose of sedative has been insufficient for such a procedure.  CT-9904 trembles, hands curling beside him, his chest rising and falling jerkily.  She assesses his vitals.  They are stable enough, but the elevated heart rate and erratic breathing are consistent with pain.  

She considers adding further sedation, but the process is nearly complete, and she refrains.

The arms of the machine retract.  She checks her datapad.  The clone’s vitals have returned to normal, and he is starting to stir. 

“Did it work?” Admiral Tarkin asks, voice clipped with impatience.  “If not, you may begin the decommissioning process.  But if it has worked, I would like the same procedure performed on the remaining squad.”

“Understood, Admiral.  I will assess him myself.”

By the time she enters, CT-9904 is clumsily sitting up, breathing hard.  He raises one hand to his right temple, shaking his head.  “What happened?” he asks.

“You have been found clear to return to duty.  With your squad.”

CT-9904 frowns, his face going cold.  “My squad disobeyed orders.”  He gets off the table, swaying slightly, and straightens up.  “Good soldiers follow orders.”

“And if your squad does not?”

“Then they need to be eliminated,” CT-9904 says evenly.  His eyes are blank, devoid of the suspicion and wariness that had been plain earlier.  She nods, feeling a slight pang.  She would have preferred to have had the time to study the interplay between the clone’s mind and the partially activated chip in case there were new insights to be gleaned.  Observing him for several weeks would have been most intriguing.  But she is certain now that in this regard, at least, CT-9904 is no longer unique.

---

“Status report,” Nala Se asks, gazing down at the unconscious clone in recovery.

The medical droid catalogs the clone’s injuries while removing the field bandages marred by strikethrough.  The list is long and troubling.  Ion burns to the chest, hands and face.  Concussion to the right temple.  Corneal abrasions.  Right shoulder dislocation, replaced in the field.  Inhalation injury.  It is disheartening to see such a unique specimen in such shape.  The corneal abrasions are the most concerning, given the nature of his enhancements, but the droid’s readings confirm that they are thankfully superficial and should heal without issue.

“How did this occur?”

“Exposure to an ion engine, Doctor,” says a human woman with a clipped, stern voice, her helmet carried under her arm.  “We were shocked he survived.  None of the other clones with him made it.”  Nala Se gives her a cool look.  One of Admiral Tarkin’s conscripts, her training nonstandardized, her breeding unknown.  She does not understand the Admiral’s obsession with ‘updating’ the army of the Republic, no, Empire, and it is an affront to have one of those inferior soldiers here in her own medical bay.  

The soldier is still standing at attention.  “Will the Commander be all right?” she asks, and there is something calculating in her eyes. Nala Se frowns.  Clones would never show such hints of naked ambition.

“Yes.  There is extensive treatment to be done, but he will likely be fully rehabilitated within a matter of weeks.”  They have repaired far more grievous injuries to their clones over the years.  Kaminoan work was strong, and it was reparable when desired.  “CT-9904 is valuable to the Empire, and he will recover.”

The soldier frowns.  “Even with the seizures?”

Nala Se gives her her full attention.  “He has had seizures?”

“Two, on the journey back from Bracca,” she says.  “I thought the medic told you.  Is that from the head injury?”

“There will be no further questions,” Nala Se says.  “You may leave.”

The woman shoves her helmet back on, nodding, and finally leaves.  Nala Se immediately locks the laboratory door behind her.

There is a faint groan from the bed.  CT-9904 raises his left hand weakly before it drops back against his chest.  He coughs, the sound amplified in the oxygen mask looped over his face.  

She casts her eyes over the blistered flesh above his right ear, then directs the medical droids to set up the imaging device to assess the chip.  CT-9904’s breathing rattles in the confines of the imaging chamber.  It is disconcerting.    

The machine whirs, its testing cycle complete, and it retracts to leave CT-9904 back in the open.  She frowns at the results on her datapad.  

“The inhibitor chip is damaged,” she tells the medical droid at the clone’s side.  “Swelling in the brain has interfered with its functioning.  The seizures are the result of an improper connection.”

CT-9904 fumbles at the oxygen mask on his face, making a garbled noise.  He manages to pull off the mask, and rasps, “Take it out, then.”

Nala Se stiffens.  

She has made a mistake.  

She has never spoken of the chips in the presence of a clone beyond Omega.  Now in her curiosity, with CT-9904 so wounded as to appear unconscious, she has erred.  She turns to him, wondering how she should proceed.  Despite what she had said about CT-9904’s value to the Empire, she is certain there would be no repercussions if he were to not survive his injuries.

“What do you mean?”

“I know…” He swallows, coughing, flecks of blood-tinged fluid dotting his lips.  “I know about the chip.  They told me.”

“Who?”

“Clone Force 99,” he manages.  “Said it’s… controlling me.  But I don’t --”  He presses the oxygen mask against his face again, taking in several deep breaths before removing it again.  He squints up at her through blepharospasm, eyelids struggling to open despite the pain of the abrasions.  “I don’t need a chip to be loyal.  To --”  His chest heaves.  “To be a good soldier.”

CT-9904 suddenly stares off into space, his good eye transfixing on the ceiling.  His jaw slackens, and she recognizes the prodromal signs of an impending seizure.  Nala Se gives a swift look to the medical droid.  “He will need an anticonvulsive.  Immediately.”  The droid complies, heading off the seizure before it can truly begin.  

Nala Se hesitates.  There are three paths remaining to her now.  Euthanasia of the enhanced clone to prevent possible awareness of the chip from being spread to other clones; treating the injuries but leaving the clone in his current state, potentially compromised by seizures and prone to worsening degradation of the chip; or --

She makes her choice, recalling the clone’s words.  CT-9904 and his cohort have always represented a new era in experimentation for her.  Perhaps by removing his chip now, she may continue to be surprised.

---

The walls of Tantiss press in around her, a windowless narrow world of her cell and the hallway beyond.  Tipoca City lies beneath the waves of her homeworld, her lab, her work, her calling buried in the sea; and now there is only the Empire and its brutal destruction.  

She has been a fool.  She had so buried herself in her work that she had blinded herself to the dangers of being indispensable.  She knows that she will never leave this planet alive.

The days are endless, the monotony almost worse than the clumsy efforts of the Empire to extract the information they needed by force.  Their interrogation droids had been programmed for human physiology, and while unpleasant, their methods had failed to force her to share her scientific knowledge.  They have since given up on that, and now Hemlock attempts to use the clone Omega as a bargaining chip, despite having no idea of her whereabouts.  

Nala Se cares little for his efforts.  She cares little for anything at all, now.

The one slight bit of interest in her day is her daily walk.  They bring her to the lab once daily under heavy guard and supervision, perhaps hoping she will be enticed by the technology to resume her old work.  She has no interest in the lab, refusing to examine its machines and capabilities, but she watches closely the clones walking by under their own guard, amusing herself with guessing which batches they had arisen from.  She has no way to confirm her guesses, but to her trained eye, subtle changes in the degree of aging -- the appearance of fine wrinkles starting at the edges of the eyes and corners of the mouth, a slight shift in glossiness of the hair, faint alterations to the gait -- provide significant clues.  It puts her in mind of happier times, when she could truly focus on science and take pride in the results of her labors.  

One day -- or perhaps night, there is no way to tell -- she awaits the lift with her captors and a group of clones stops beside them, waiting for the same lift.  She turns to study them and is taken aback.  One clone stands above the others, several inches taller despite the slump in his shoulders.

Her mind swirls with questions.  Had the removal of CT-9904’s chip -- omitted from his final medical report after his injuries on Bracca -- come to light?  Was he sent here for betrayal of the Empire?  Or had he merely been injured and deemed unfit to return to duty, so was sent here for study to remain useful?  

He does not meet her gaze.  She is not sure he has even noticed she stands beside him.  His face is skull-like, his skin sallow from lack of sunlight, deep shadows etched beneath his eyes.  A flicker of movement catches her eye and she notes a fine tremor, nearly imperceptible, along the edge of his hand.  He shakes his hand almost subconsciously, a small, subtle jerk she is not sure that even he has detected.  There are no obvious injuries, but there is an emptiness that is apparent, a lack of something vital.

She does not know what has brought him here, but she knows that he is a soldier no longer.

The lift arrives and the guards herd them within.  Force is not required; the prisoners know their place.  They stare down at the floor, heads bowed.  

Nala Se gazes away from the ruined clone beside her.  The music she had once carried in her head, the clever dance of DNA and ingenuity, the spark of creativity, of creation, falls silent.  She does not speak to him, nor he to her.  

There is simply nothing to say.

#the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #crosshair tbb #ct 9904 #nala se #whump #but like... dispassionate whump #this is such an odd little one but i had fun writing it #also nala se is kind of awful #my batcher fic #oh and if you were wondering #being a veterinarian I do like throwing in medical nonsense when I can

[arcsimper5]

Episode 5 - Rants!

Okay, so, first off WHAT AN AMAZING EPISODE!

Putting spoilers below the cut just in case, and this is gonna be way out of order, but my brain is still firing on all cylinders lol.

So first off - Echo!

Our baby is back! And he is taking no shit which is just perfect. His reaction to Crosshair is interesting though. I imagine, with him having been with the 501st and around Jedi, he may well have heard 'the stories' about Jedi falling to the Dark Side and being welcomed back. He's also probably heard about Slick from Rex, and seeing other clones turn on the empire despite being loyal, he is likely more sympathetic towards Crosshair than the others.

The 'What, no hug for me?' did have me cackling though. Such snark, such sass. Cross and Echo are underrated as friends, honestly.

Omega on Pabu. That opening was so lovely, her cuddled up with Lula and being so happy! And I LOVE how when she leaves to find Crosshair, Wrecker and Hunter have an entire conversation just through facial expressions. They've been through so much together, they can read each other better than ever, and it's wonderful.

Crosshair and AZ! I love how much that little droid wants to help. Crosshair's line about Lyanna and Shep's ability to find him being 'uncanny' also made me smile. Shep is just a homing missile of care, and of course his daughter is going to be the same!

Him explaining sniping to Omega as well, her just being a sponge of information must remind him of Tech at least a little. Then Wrecker and Hunter peeking over the rocks. Sorry, had to laugh!

Wrecker telling Hunter that if Omega trusts Crosshair, that's enough for him. YES! He's not letting things go, but he's giving it a chance, unlike Mr Face Tattoo Grumpy Pants.

ANOTHER WHISTLE!!!!

Echo hug, and that is just wonderful. Not long enough, but hey, Echo's always been straight down to business.

Batcher's relationship with the moon-yos is also beautiful, them asleep on her by the table is just lovely!

The dining table scene, Tech mention, heartbreaking, but it shows there is still a void there. They're all aware, and all working to fill it, but it's still gaping and raw.

As soon as Crosshair said he knew an outpost, I was like, NO, THEY'RE GOING BACK TO BARTON IV *crying*

Then Wrecker giving him back the armour and the way Crosshair's eyes WIDEN when he sees it. Just UUUUUGH!

The 'little brother' moment and the chuckle made my heart SING. These two are just peak sibling and I AM HERE FOR IT!

And man, did I ever want them to turn up and Mayday be there, alive and having survived thanks to Crosshair and telling them all what he did and how amazing he was.

Sadly no :(

But Mayday's helmet, and Crosshair making a memorial to him with the rest of his squad beside him as well, it shows real growth, and THE MUSIC! Ooof!

Hunter being all side-eye-y by the door, what a dramatic bitch lol

Echo and Omega work so well together, and the tension between Crosshair and Hunter is ridiculous. Just fight already! And make it a good one!

So close, but Mama Echo stopped it lol

The entire scene with the wyrm was wonderful, from the beginning argument (I could write an entire novel on how much I love Crosshair calling Hunter out on his BS in a way no-one else does) and Hunter being an angry boi.

But the innate trust that comes out as soon as Hunter falls in that hole.

Also... 'HUNTER!!!!!' :')

The nods at the end, then loading onto the ship. I REALLY wanted Crosshair to tell Hunter about Mayday, that he shot the officer for a Reg, because they refused to help him. I wanted him to tell him how he was tortured, how he kept them safe.

I only hope Echo goes through the medical records and finds what they did to Crosshair, shows it to Hunter and they finally get a bit more understanding.

Overall, it was AMAZING!

My only gripe is with the perimeter - Hunter has enhanced senses but it seems like they write him like he can turn them on and off lol. If it's high pitched enough to keep the wyrm away AND bother Batcher, he's sure as hell going to be hearing it, helmet or not! And it wouldn't be pleasant!

But no, he has to look through his helmet to pick it up? Yeah, I call BS on that :P

But considering that is the only complaint I really have, 9.9/10!

#the bad batch #tbb s3 #tbb #tbb s3 spoilers #tbb spoilers #bad batch spoilers #The Return #sw tbb #bad batch #The Bad Batch

[miseries-mistress]

ALL TO KEEP YOU SAFE | ANAKIN SKYWALKER

Synopsis: Your mission was supposed to be simple: get on a Separatist cruiser, find the time-sensitive information they possess, and leave. Of course, nothing happens to plan because, within seconds, tens of droids surrounded you, there missed blaster shots hitting the wall behind you until her; Ventress. She caught you, Anakin, and your troopers off guard, so while you dealt with her, the rest of the clones escaped with the information you came aboard for. Luck is really not on your side, ever. 

Warnings: female reader, slight smut, anakin in his protective era ig, making out, no smut, injury/reader in pain, canon typical violence. W/C: 2396

Notes: I am so tired yall, i can't even (sorry for the grainy gif)

star wars masterlist

What happened?

Amidst the battle, for a second, time seemed irrelevant. Your heart pounding in your ears was all you could hear as the deep red blade swung in an unpredictable attack. The smell of ashes and fumes drifts through the air. The bumps and curves of your steel weapon tethered you to your insufferable reality and the taste of copper filling your dry mouth was all you could focus on for that millisecond before you felt it; the feeling of your flesh being boiled from the blow he had dealt you was enough for the pain to cloud your vision.

Your head was fuzzy, like it was packed full of cotton balls. Your entire body throbbed like a thousand needles dipped in alcohol were being jammed into your skin. The people bustled around, yelling at each other in what seemed like a foreign language, their voices so muffled it felt like your head was underwater. 

The room spun like a top as someone shook your shoulder, contributing to the agony submerging your body. Why was the room spinning? That's a good question to ask.

You're propped against something hard, a wall, maybe? You must be on the floor. How did you get here? Another good question for Anakin. 

"Y/N!"  

Was someone calling your name? Stars, your ears kept ringing at such an incessant high pitch that it was hard to hear anything at all. Finally, you blinked, and a blurry figure appeared before you. It was difficult to tell who or what it was from the pixelated outline and the dark colors cladding most of it. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust and capture the details of this mysterious person. 

"Y/N!" the person in front of you shouted, shaking your shoulders, and if you could spare the energy, you would have smiled. But, instead, Anakin's hands leave your shoulders now that he has ensnared your attention, busying himself with a medical kit on the floor. Why would he be fiddling with a med kit? 

"What are you…?"

"Shh," Anakin drapes his hand over your shoulders, beckoning you to the wall. "You're injured right now, Y/N. Try not to move." 

He just answered most of your questions at once. How productive of him. 

Anakin rips the sanitary seal on the Bacta Pad and presses it over your wound. It pulls you back up to the surface from the drowsiness trying to pull you under, and your back arches off the wall. A searing pain rises over your thigh where it was once numb, and you bite your lip to contain your scream, tears falling from your scrunched-up eyes. All you could see was a multitude of colors dancing across your closed lids, a sob of pain escaping your bare lips. You wanted more than anything for it to end, to pass out, bleed out, whatever it takes to make it end.   

"Shh, I know, I know, it'll feel better soon, I promise," Anakin coos, drawing gauze from the kit. The scalding burn dissolves into a dull throb while Anakin silently but efficiently finishes patching you up. He sits back, admiring his work, and brushes your hair away from your sweat-stained face. The colors around the room began to blend together, blurring the image in front of you. Blobs of dark color drift by as your heavy eyelids resist the need for rest. Each blink took longer, your eyes burning with the need for slumber. 

Anakin, who was reduced to a lump of dark color, intertwined his hand with yours, his fingers smoothing over the skin of your hand. You barely felt the sensation, the ache in your body too intense. 

"Sleep, my love. I will be here when you wake." Those were the last words you heard before submitting to the desire for sleep

—

At first, you felt the cold breeze of a fan brushing over your exposed arms. Then, the faint crinkle of the sheets and a warm hand residing on yours. And the smell of rubbing alcohol hanging in the air, mixed with something you couldn't quite put your fingers on. Your body felt like it was glued to the bed, incapable of so much as a twitch for a couple of minutes. But, with each passing second, your strength and awareness slowly returned to your body, filling the previous numbness with the power you didn't realize you possessed. 

Your eyes fluttered open, and you squinted at the harsh light beaming down on your unadjusted eyes. Someone besides you gasps, the grip on your hand tightening 

"Y/N!" The sound of your name hurriedly proclaimed from such tantalizing lips put your body at ease. You were with Anakin wherever you were, and that's all you needed. 

"Where am I?" you croaked, and Anakin, learning of your parched throat, seized the glass of water on your bedside table and leaned back over. You slowly raised your head to graciously accept the water, consuming large gulps as you did. Once you were finished, he set down the glass, his hands folding neatly in his lap. 

"You're in the infirmary on the cruiser. You passed out," Anakin explained, keeping his voice level while his heart felt like it was beating in his throat. He watched your eyes flutter cautiously around the room before you settled back into your cot. 

"Thank you," your voice was weaker and softer than you anticipated. "But I have to report to the council so–"

"No," Anakin spoke firmly, his grip on your hand strengthening. 

"Anakin, I–"

"No, Y/N, because I almost lost you and Maker when you were dying in my arms…." Anakin took a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes squeezing together while he composed himself. Emotion was building in his chest, spreading to his throat rather than his eyes.  

Anakin sniffed, his eyes incapable of meeting yours. "The doctors have ordered you to stay on bed rest for the next couple of days. The council will meet with you tomorrow about the details of your mission."

Anakin's hand attempted to slip from yours, but you squeezed his palm, silently pleading for him to sit back down. Instead, his eyes trail down to the simple point of contact, again taking his seat. He seems to analyze your intertwined fingers, his leg nervously bouncing while you run your fingers over his callouses. 

"What's wrong, Ani?" you ask, and his eyes flicker to yours for the briefest moments. You frown, ignoring the sharp pain in your thigh as you scoot closer to him. 

"Ani?" you call his name quietly, waiting to provoke a reaction out of him, and for what seems the first time since you've woken up, your eyes meet his, and he doesn't pull away. You expected to find admiration mixing in depths of blue irises, but you were met with a fiery fierceness that took your breath away. 

"Why? Why did you have to put yourself in danger?" His voice was a mock calmness, with the first pinpricks of something akin to anger seeping through. 

"If I didn't, those clones would have died, my love. You of all people–" your clear explanation was interrupted by a growl, Anakin's hand ripping from yours. 

"You put yourself in needless danger. You almost got yourself killed! That was reckless–"

"Anakin–!"

"You were acting irresponsibly! You treated your life as a gamble for the "greater good." What a bunch of bullshit!" His hands delve into the strands of his hair, running through those stained with the ashes of battle.   

You scoff. "That was hardly the case, Anakin."

"It was exactly the case. You were selfish, putting your life on the line like that." Anakin takes a couple of steps closer, his eyes alight with anger. 

"You're the selfish one yelling at me for doing what I was bred to do, Anakin! Get your head out of your ass and realize that information was much more important than my life." 

Anakin stomps over to you, his hands fisting the pillow beside your head. Your eyes widen, your heart beating outside your chest as Anakin hovers menacingly over you. 

"Don't you ever say that again," he snarls, his tone low as it rumbles through your ear. Your brain searches for words, for a phrase that could counteract Anakin's threat, but your mind is wiped blank. Goosebumps run down your arms while your eyes flicker from his lips, back up to his piercing blue eyes drilling holes into yours. "Not so brave now, are you?"

His eyes catch your movement, the subtle squirming under him, your breaths coming out in short pants, and your hands clenching the sheets. 

A part of himself that he doesn't let himself indulge in often relishes in you entirely at his mercy. You look so innocent, pure with those big, helpless eyes, pleading for him. Such a good girl. His thoughts turn possessive the longer he stares at you, drinking your body spread out so nicely underneath him. A smirk, a confident and cocky one he often bore, makes its way to his face. He glances down to see what has you so compliant and what he sees makes arousal flow through him like a drug. 

His knee, which was thrown over the bed in his haste to get to you, was parted between your legs, a pillar against your wet heat that seemed to throb around him. His eyes trailed back up your body, discovering your eyes staring at something beyond him. A wave of control moves him to grab your chin, forcing your face twisted in embarrassment to focus on him and only him. 

"You like that, don't you?" he asks tauntingly, purposely phrasing it as a question despite already knowing the answer. The almost unnoticeable buck into his thigh and the whimper you so desperately tried to subdue confirms and washes away all suspicions of anything else; you are enjoying this. 

You gulp the wad of spit seemingly stuck in your throat, your eyes unable to meet his while his mind moves a mile a minute. Finally, he grabs your chin more forcefully this time, his eyes hardening. "I asked you a question."

"Yes…" you respond meekly, your voice failing to bring the authority it seemed to always carry. 

If possible, it seems to rile up Anakin more, sending him further into an untamable turmoil of lust. In an instant, his lips descended on yours with feverish hunger and wicked desperation that knocked out your senses as his lips molded perfectly to the curve of your mouth. Hard. Passionate. Hungry. That's how Anakin kisses you. His lips sinfully moved haphazardly without a definite purpose or path, just filled with the desire to consume and derive every part of your being that you have offered to him. His tongue pushes past the barricade of your lips as they press firmly over yours. He explores every crevice of your mouth to get a quick reminder of your delicious taste. His wandering hands corrupt every inch of your body, and you can't find it within yourself to care, only focused on the blooming sensation of arousal rushing through your veins as opposed to the admiration he usually spills over you like water.

Aggressive. Impatient. Devouring. You feel it all in the Force, each emotion spiking it to another degree. 

That was until he pulled back, mindful of the injuries you had procured, while his face flushed a deep red, chest heaving. His eyes dilated a fraction, taking note of his surroundings before running a gloved hand through your disheveled hair. You placed a hand over your chest to steady the erratic beating of your heart. The rage you saw sweeping over the blue of his irises had vanished, and something like sorrow replaced it. The sudden change of emotions started you briefly while you attempted to compose yourself.   

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he murmured, his gaze finding its way back to yours. You could sense in the Force the remorse he felt for giving way to his emotions. Your eyes softened as you patted the space on the bed, inviting him to sit. He appeared hesitant at first but eventually settled down by your side. 

"It's okay," you smiled up at him. His hand grabbed yours, raising your joined hands and placing a chaste kiss on the back of your palm. You took your connected hands and set your lips delicately on the back of Anakin's palm. His pupils enlarged for a second before softening with their familiar warmth. "Come, sleep with me."

Laughing, Anakin raised his eyebrows at your question, and you internally slapped yourself. So be it to Anakin for his mind to descend into such thoughts. You fixedly glare at him, and he rolls his eyes, a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips. You carefully scooted over to give him enough space to lie down as he got comfortable on the small bed. When he was satisfied in his spot, you placed your head on his chest, your arm circling around his torso. His flesh hand fell to your hair, softly stroking it while you fought the urge to submit to sleep. Your eyelids drooped, and before you knew it, you gave way to sleep's temptation, wrapped in the arms of General Anakin Skywalker, every doubt and worry swept from your mind by the Jedi's skillful practice, allowing you to sleep peacefully until you would be pulled away from him again to resume your duties. 

But for now, Anakin could keep you to himself before you, and he would part, swept up in the endless misery of war.

#tcw anakin #reader insert #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin x y/n #anakin skywalker x you #anakin x fem reader #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker #anakin star wars #anakin fluff #star wars #star wars tcw #star wars prequels #anakin skywalker one shot #star wars oneshot #the clone wars #fluff #slight smut #slight spice #female reader #almost smut

[purgetrooperfox]

propaganda (elevator pitches) ⬇️

Nocte (sw):

is CMO of the Coruscant Guard. fiercely loyal to the Guard. deeply wary of the senate, with very few exceptions. he's my oldest oc and probably the one y'all are most likely to have heard of. integrated into arcs with many of my friends' ocs/fics/whatnot <3 what else goes in his elevator pitch,,, known to take kids and younger clones under his wing, protective to a fault, low tolerance for nonsense. beat around the bush at your own peril. questionable bedside manner. manwhore tendencies. I love him, you love him. he's been transplanted into [checks list] cod, tlou, and bebop

Uj'alayi (sw):

is an ARC trooper, used to work with the Shadows then got brutally injured and had to transition to the CG. owes his life to Quinlan Vos and is disgruntled about it. guard dog coded. his bite is exponentially bigger than his bark. on the surface: quick to laugh, quick to joke, charismatic and personable without being overbearing. this may or may not be a mask he wears. will lay a beat down on just about anyone if they Cause Issues for Fox. in the relationship of all time with Lane Hurosa (another of my ocs)

Bones (sw):

is marshal commander of the 410th recon corps under Bastra Vargdan (another of my ocs). traits include: CQC specialist, confounded by the concept of the Force, at least partly responsible for getting a gambling ring going in the GAR (has a poke face like nobody's business). outside of working hours, he's laid back, easygoing. stark contrast between On-Duty Bones and Off-Duty Bones. encyclopedic knowledge of regs, but flexible adherence to them sometimes. big brained tactical strategist, ended up teaching Bastra a Lot about like. how to lead a corps

Bastra (sw):

my Jedi 👉👈 trained by Sifo-Dyas so dookudyas is very dad-coded to him. specialized as an Investigator, excels at undercover ops. also has quite a bit of integration into my friends' oc arcs and stuff <3 buddies with Obi-Wan, gets on pretty well with the TG and CG since he spends a chunk of his time on Coruscant. ummmm he takes a Padawan like 10ish years before the war, somewhere in that range. he's a goofy guy, real stiff and formal a lot of the time but it lets up around people he trusts. of course I know him, he's me etc etc. he's currently getting transplanted into cp2077

Lane (sw):

is a journalist on Coruscant. they spend a Lot of time in the senate district, very good at schmoozing. certified flatterer. charming, if you will. always asking one million questions that senators do Not want to answer, which results in bans from various spots around the city LOL honestly they're just neat idk what to tell you. they stay following risky leads and getting themself into binds. they're squinting very hard at the details of how the Republic acquired a clone army

Myn (sw):

is a smuggler in the early Rebellion era. also a relentless optimist, sees the very first scraps of resistance and buys in immediately. IF somehow Nocte’s alive at that point, Myn's the one who tries and probably fails to sell him on participating in the rebellion

Vio Selnes (sw):

owns and operates a 24h diner on Coruscant. this diner gets heavy business from clones leaving 79s. connections to the clones leads to scattered connections with the Jedi, leads to the restaurant being used as a rendezvous point from time to time. part of Dexter Jettster's network

Jag (mk):

is part of the Kahn Guard when Kotal's in power. he was raised by the Shaolin Monks until he bailed, moved to the States, got into all sorts of illicit activities. Kung Jin eventually moves onto his couch and joins his crew. those illicit activities land him in a stint with the Black Dragon, which is a real lesson in Kano Is A Bastard. when Erron jumps ship, Jag goes with him. he's kind of an idiot, full of trussed issues, gay as hell, will bring a knife to a gunfight or a gun to a knife fight

Rose (mk):

is part of Danver's crew from before he went BD. the brains of that whole operation. she's severely underdeveloped unfortunately but I promise she's very cool. computer nerd. minimal filter on her in the best way

Eyes (cp2077):

is a ripperdoc with more focus on ripping than doc-ing. from Pacifica, got a long time connection to Mr. Hands. wound up in Maelstrom pretty young, cut his teeth on committing atrocities and revolutionizing Maelstrom's uhhh forcible cyberware implantations and general torture methods :) was real loyal to Brick, so Royce wrecked his shit when he took over, meant to kill him but he managed to get out. winds up on Viktor Vektor's table for recovery, tries very hard to turn over a new leaf. he's a fucked up bastard of a guy I shan't lie. compels me though

#clone medic nocte #arc trooper uj'alayi #bastra vargdan #clone commander bones #lane hurosa #myn gath #des 'eyes' gallagher #danver 'jag' hakka #vio selnes #rose garcia #those tags should be semi populated. i Think #leocs #bookmark

[mwolf0epsilon]

Rex, walking into the medbay with a stack of datapads full of medical forms: Hey Kix I got you those forms you-- Sponge, Kix, Coric, Pitch and Twitch all T-posing in a circle formation around Beau while chanting: She who hunts the defiant ones, she who hunts the defiant ones, she who hunts the defiant ones, she who hunts the defiant ones, she who hunts the defiant ones, she who hunts the defiant ones, she who hunts the defiant ones... Beautiful, sitting on top of Fives who tried to sneak out of the medbay while recovering from surgery: ｡:ﾟ૮ ˶ˆ ﻌ ˆ˶ ა ﾟ:｡ Fives, screaming in terror: Rex: ... I'll come back later.

#incorrect quotes #star wars #the clone wars #captain rex #arc trooper fives #clone medic coric #clone medic kix #clone ocs #clone medic sponge #clone medic pitch #clone medic twitch #beautiful the barghest #borrowing twitch from gaeasun and pitch from british-hero for this to ensure the circle is big enough lmao #no one in the 501st is sane

[lost-on-kamino]

Your package has arrived! - mwolf0epsilon

-

Package!!! Four Beans!!! Pitch looks worried for being on top fdhfshd

#submission #metro(nome) squad #clone medic pitch #communications corrie rhythm #arf trooper tacet #arc trooper beat #Bean pile.... #them beans.... #Siblings....

[endo-bunny]

My Pretty Flower |Tech x Medic Reader|

A/N- if you've already read the teaser then you can just skip to where you see "-_-"! I really enjoyed making this and am currently working on part 2, but I don't know when that'll be out. Feel free to tell me how I did!

Warning: mentions of giving up/neglect/ribs being visible/angst

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Waking up in a pitch black room wasn't uncommon for you. What was though was not feeling the chains that bound you to that cold metal table, always holding your bruised and frail body. You laid there in pain, fear pumping through your chemical infused veins. Slowly opening your eyes, you could barely see, but there was something unusual. Looking around slowly, there were no scientists or medical tools in sight. As your eyes finally adjusted to the dark room you took in more of its features. Your mind took a while to process these new changes to your off looking environment. The room was pure white, or at least that's what it seemed to be. You moved your head slightly, pain soon following, spreading all throughout your tired body. At this angle you could spot a door out of the corner of your eye. It seemed to match the room's color scheme, white. A million thoughts, a million questions, were running, swarming, around in your exhausted mind, despite having probably slept for a while. After about five minutes, you were able to sit up. Your body was in so much pain, but you pushed through, ignoring your throbbing head. Your limbs were sore from hours of needles penetrating your skin, pumping unknown chemicals into your veins. Looking around, you couldn't remember the last time you saw a change of scenery. You wound up in this horrible place during one of Cid's missions. You couldn't even remember what it was for, only that it was stupid and dangerous. You can remember though, that the last one to be calling out your name as you fell from the ship that was taking off; after being shot in the leg by who you're certain was Crosshair, was Tech.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

You could still hear the panic in his usually calm and stoic voice. After that everything went dark and you woke up in an empire cell. You were questioned excessively as to where the others were but you never said a word. It hurts to see all of the clones that you've known for so long become corrupted so fast. As you finally come back to reality you realize that this is your chance to escape. The more times the thought ran circles around in your mind, the more adrenaline that pimped through your veins. All logical thinking was out the door in that very moment as determination filled your body. With all of the strength that your nutrient deprived body could muster, you flung yourself into your feet. You did it, you were standing; you could do this! Not even a second later you were splayed out on the floor, your limbs giving out on you. What had you been thinking? Your body was too weak, you hadn't stood up in so long;let alone walked. All of those hopes that filled your mind were quick to run away as reality and logo instead took their places. You stared up in that dark room, tears brimming your eyes and threatening to fall as defeat washed over you. You just wanted all of this to end, you couldn't take it anymore. They did this on purpose. They wanted you to feel hope, joy, determination; just so they could rip all of it right out of your hands. They wanted to break you. This was all part of their plan, of course it was. They thought of this as if it were a game, because it was in a way. As your usually strong will started to weaken the batch's bright faces entered your mind. One by one, memories of then all flooded your head. You couldn't give up. You had to keep going;for them. They were all you had left. You loved all of them, one of them a little more than the others. Everything about him was amazing; Tech was amazing. You had to live so you could see them all again. You had to live so you could see Tech again. You had to live so you can tell Tech how much you love him. Your thoughts were quickly interrupted as the door to your new room was opened. Light flooded the room as you closed your eyes. You instinctively brought your hand up to shield your eyes. The numbness you felt earlier due to the adrenaline has long left your bloodstream as pain flooded your receptors. You're weak, so unbelievably weak. A deep and dark chuckle snapped you out of your trance. Footsteps could be heard coming towards you as one of the newer scientists came into view. You could never remember his name, only that he was cruel. You hated him with every fiber in your body. The man enjoyed watching you suffer as he tortured you by injecting such painful chemicals into your body.

"Well look what we have here. A defenseless weakling. Did you really think you'd be able to escape? What a joke, " The man taunted you, taking pleasure in seeing you so broken. The only thing you did was spit on his boot. You knew it was a stupid decision right once the saliva left your mouth but there was nothing that could stop it. He looked down on you with pure disgust in his soulless eyes. He scowles before talking once more.

"Disgusting vermin, get up. You have a new cellmate."

At that note a clone trooper brought someone in. The scientist grabbed ahold of your arm and rather harshly pulled you up off the ground. You were quick to grip onto the table in order to keep you up. Crosshair stood in the doorway of the room. He had his usual scowl and furrowed brows on his face. If you hadn't known him for so long then you would have thought he didn't recognize you. His eyes widened a little as they laid their sight onto you. You were so tiny, only skin on bones. It was hard to imagine that that was truly you. You were so pale, paler than ever. Your face was sunken in and you had so many scars and bruises on your body. He didn't look the best either. It was clear the empire didn't feed him enough. His clothing was very different from yours; yours being just a large loose white shirt and underwear. The shirt wasn't as white as it was when you were given it. It was decorated in blood and unknown chemicals. Thinking back to the chemicals made you realize how lucky, or unlucky, you were to be alive at that moment. So far none of their experiments have killed you. You wondered what Crosshair had been through this entire time. They neglected him, his tight blacks showing off his ribs and trig like limbs. How could they have done this to him? Anger took hold of your mind.

"How could you treat him like this? You're the disgusting vermin here," your voice was small, barely above a whisper;throat dry and scratched up from screaming.

You hardly ever spoke anymore. Most of the time the only noise coming from your messed up throat were screams and whimpers. If you had the strength and courage then an insult would leave your lips. Of course they'd punish you for it but you stopped being scared a long time ago; or at least that's what you tell yourself over and over again. Deep down you were terrified. No one gave you any mind as Crosshair was thrown in, stumbling over his own feet. He grunted as he lost complete balance and landed on his knees. The scientist and clone trooper were quick to leave the room as if you both had some kind of infectious disease. Crosshair, with his usual scowl, had a twinkle of concern in his scrunched up eyes. Of course he had been assigned to execute you but he couldn't for some reason; the same reason he couldn't do it to his brothers. He knew you were going to be questioned and probably get a little beat up, but he wasn't expecting this at all. With no hesitation, you fell on top of him as your arms wrapped around him as best as they could.

"I missed you," The both of you spoke to the other.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Words: 1,384

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Tag list:

@fakegingerrights

@sunrisemcash

@justanauthor17

#star wars #the bad batch #bad batch angst #sw tcw #clone trooper crosshair #clone trooper tech #angst #x reader #tech x reader #tech x medic reader

[ariadnes-red-thread]

In His Sights

Summary: As the Bad Batch’s medic, you’re used to seeing the details so you can pick up on changes in your boys. As the team’s sniper and an enhanced clone, Crosshair’s got the best vision of the batch. Somehow, neither of you can see what’s right in front of your faces.

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader, mentions of past Hunter x Reader

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI!; Smut, PiV, AFAB Reader, Fingering, Swearing, Jealousy, Brief descriptions of wound and wound care

Word Count: 4823

A/N: My second published fic! I meant to start posting a Fives series that I’ve been working on but I had a dream about Crosshair two nights ago and came up with this in a fever pitch. It ended up being way longer and having far more plot/background than I intended - oops. What can I say? I’m a sucker for sexual tension, Idiots in Love aannd probably more than a little toxicity. Anyways, enjoy! 

Reaction to my first fic was more incredible than I ever anticipated or could ask for (thank you, thank you to everyone who read, loved, reblogged and commented on Promise Me!) but still feeling unsure if anyone will read this or if it even came out alright. It’s definitely the fastest I’ve ever written anything but into the tumblr void, we go! Feedback and comments always welcome :) 

Ao3

“Stop drooling over Hunter.”

The voice comes from over your left shoulder. You don’t know when he had gotten there or how or even why he was watching you but you know exactly who it is.

“Cross, I promise you that was not what I was doing.” You snort without turning in the copilot’s chair that you’ve been curled up in for the last hour. “It’s been a long time since then.”

“Could have fooled me.” Crosshair sneers.

“Yeah, yeah.” You move on from his half-teasing, still not looking at the sniper as you try to assess your future patient from a distance. Through the viewport, you can see Hunter as he trudges with his three other brothers over sand dunes, trailing just a step behind them. You point to his right leg. “Look at how he’s walking. I think he’s hiding an injury again.”

You finally turn to Crosshair in time to watch him pick up his rifle and peer through his scope. Something in your stomach contracts as you watch the sniper press his eye to the glass and furrow his brow. The look he gets on his face when he’s focused… the furrowed brow, the shifting of the toothpick as his jaw clenches, the concentration in his amber eyes…. It does things to you. No time to think about that now though, even if it was a stone you were willing to unturn.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Crosshair shrugs as he lowers his rifle again. His tone matches his careless words but he’s frowning and you see his eyes still darting over his brother, assessing him for himself even now.

You huff. As the resident medic, the Bad Batch boys make your life difficult. Wrecker was constantly getting concussions or rupturing eardrums, Echo had vehemently rejected the idea of recovering peacefully and was always pulling atrophied muscles that needed more time to heal after his long capture on Skako Minor, Hunter refused to come see you when he was hurt, Tech wouldn’t even realize he was hurt, too absorbed in his projects to notice, and Crosshair… well, Crosshair was a different kind of problem. Medically, Cross was the least of your worries. He was methodical, measured and he knew when he needed a medic’s help. The problem was more on your end than anything else.

You’ve been with the Batch for almost two years now. It wasn’t long after they were sent out on their first mission that the higher-ups in the GAR and the Kaminoans realized that they needed a medic on the team. You were brought in halfway through your GAR civilian medic training. It seemed like ages ago and yesterday at the same time.

You could still remember the first meeting in detail. Wrecker pulled you into a rib-cracking hug immediately. Tech quizzed you, trying to understand why his own extensive medical knowledge wouldn’t suffice. Hunter had some questions as well but only because he wanted to make sure that his brothers were in the best hands. Crosshair had sat to the side while his brothers took turns grilling you and hugging you. When you finally turned to him, he simply nodded.

It wasn’t long after, a training session went wrong (or right, depending on how much regret you have in the moment that you’re reflecting on it) and you and Hunter found yourselves pressed up against each other in a storage closet. The fling continued for a few weeks but you both realized that, while the sex was great, the only feelings between you two were far closer to brother and sister than anything else. Any physical relationship died out pretty quickly after that. Your relationship with Hunter had been awkward for a few weeks as you tried to navigate new territory but it soon grew past the confines of your friends-with-benefits situation. He became your best friend and your closest confidant on the team. To their credit, Tech and Wrecker never mentioned it, both loving you enough that you were a part of the team, no matter what. You imagined Echo knew, likely having been told by one of his new brothers over shots of spotchka but he never let on. The only one who still brought it up was Crosshair. He continued to tease you about it, even years later. You always laughed it off as best you could. It was a stupid, rash decision to get involved with a coworker and, if that was the worst of the repercussions, you knew you should be grateful. Still, it had started to sting more over the last year and not for the reasons you expected.

In the last year, the sniper had begun to warm up to you and, as you’d gotten to know the sarcastic, stoic man better, you had unearthed some dangerous feelings. You found that Crosshair was far more protective than his callous exterior let on, always doing his own assessment of you and his brothers when you finished missions. You watched as he set aside your favorite rations bars and you loved his and Wrecker’s relationship, savoring how the bigger clone pulled a more playful side out of his younger brother. He started helping you with your weekly organization of your med kits, sorting out expired supplies and repacking bags. You were surprised how often you laughed with him, his cool sarcasm a welcome distraction to the dullness of the work.

It wasn’t always that way though. While all these moments had led to growing feelings for the sniper on your end, you still couldn’t tell what he thought of you. It seemed like every time you had a glimpse of the man you were falling in love with, he would withdraw and not speak to you for a day or he would make a comment about Hunter. It was confusing and it often hurt. Though he was not outwardly cold to you anymore, Crosshair had kept you at a distance since that first day when he wouldn’t speak a word to you.

So you push it all aside. You have bigger problems at hand than unrequited love anyways. You look back to the landscape outside the ship but, besides a vast desert terrain, the viewport is empty, meaning that while you were talking to the sniper, the rest of his brothers must have made their way towards the ship. They should be close now.

“Is the mission finished?” You ask Crosshair, who is settling himself into the pilot’s chair beside you.

“We’ll find out.” He folds his arms across his chest and leans back, closing his eyes as if he can finally rest. “I did my part.”

“Crosshair, he’ll never let me help him if there’s still work to be done.”

Crosshair opens one eye and then another. He looks over you before he raises an eyebrow. You realize you’re chewing on your nails, a tell-tale sign of your worry. Quickly, you drop your hand to your lap.

“It’s alright, mesh’la.” He says quietly, shifting his toothpick as he speaks. “We won’t let him hurt himself.”

Then he stands and disappears from the cockpit, as quickly and silently as he entered. You hear the bridge go down and then the voices of the rest of the Batch returning. You stay in your seat, eyes fixed on the sprawling, golden sands, but you listen for sounds of success. Wrecker’s thunderous words seem jubilant but it’s hard to tell with him. Echo and Techo are bickering and under all that, more softly, you hear Crosshair and Hunter exchange hushed words. The crowd disperses and you decide they must have succeeded as the clones seem to turn to their post-mission activities. A pair of footsteps makes their way towards the cockpit.

“Heard I’m being summoned to see the doctor.” A warm voice tickles your ears.

“You came to find me? This is a first,” You turn and smile brightly at your friend.

“Well, nothing like threats of bodily harm from a sniper to motivate me.” Hunter winks as he sits down in the now-empty pilot’s seat.

You notice a wince as he lowers himself. He’s definitely hurt.

“Alright, what happened?” You bring yourself to your knees on the ground in front of the Sergeant and begin to strip his leg of armor, not even thinking twice about it. You’ve stripped armor off of all these boys so often you could do it in your sleep.

“Commando droid.” He groans as he slides himself forward in the chair, giving you better access to his leg.

“How many missions ago?” You frown as you palpate his thigh. You can feel how warm the skin is through the fabric.

“Three.” He says with a grimace at your touch.

Without another word, you glare at him. At least he has the humility to look sheepish. You nod towards his lower half and he takes your signal to lift his hips up and strip his compression suit down to his knees, leaving Hunter in just his underwear.

“Fuck,” You swear at the clone. “It’s infected, you kriffing idiot.”

A vibroblade wound, about three inches long, sits in his groin. The commando droid found the perfect weakness in his armor. If it had been two inches lower, you know you wouldn’t be having this conversation with your friend right now. He would have bled out on the battlefield. You shiver at the thought before refocusing on your assessment. The wound is leaking and the skin around it is darkened and raised.

“Didn’t want to bother you with it.” Hunter grits his teeth as you press against the skin to see how far out the infection has grown.

“Hunter, you absolute moron of a martyr, it’s not a bother, it’s my job.” You sit back on your heels.

“I know, I know!” He throws his hands up in innocent protest, “You just do enough for us already. I don’t want to put more on your plate.”

“Like treating an infected wound that should have been just a few simple stitches?” You cock an eyebrow at him. “Not coming to me when you’re hurt creates more work.”

“Message received, ad’ika.” He sighs finally.

You get to work, opening the med pack that you had ready and waiting beside you, in case a call came for medic help. You usually didn’t go out on missions with the Batch, especially if the Marauder was close by. While you were trained with a blaster, you weren’t exactly a genetically enhanced clone and your presence would only slow down the seamless machine they became in the field. Instead, you would usually wait on the ship for a comm for help or for the team to get back and patch them up when they got there.

Digging through your supplies, you found a swab, saline, gauze, and a bacta patch. Hunter makes a face as you take a sample from his wound but he’s silent. You are gentle, despite the temptation to make sure he never did this again. Then, with a gloved hand, you pack the wound with saline-soaked gauze. It’s deeper than you realized and that makes you frown more. Finally, you cover it with a bacta patch, smoothing its seal over the wound with your gloved palm. You look up at Hunter.

“I’ll scan the sample and make sure we get you on the right antibiotics. As for this dressing, keep it covered when you shower and I’ll change it in two days. Don’t make me hunt you down in the middle of a mission to do it.” You smile at your patient.

“Sir, yes sir.” Hunter smiles back at you as he brings a hand on your shoulder. “Thank you.”

“A familiar position?” A voice sneers from the doorway.

You cringe, realizing the way you’re kneeling between Hunter’s legs and how your hand is still resting on his groin. You know it doesn’t mean anything. Closeness comes easy between you and Hunter and, as a medic, you have to be comfortable with your patients but it all suddenly feels suffocating. You snap your hand back and launch yourself to your feet. Then, fuming at the accusation, you spin your head towards the cockpit’s entrance, knowing who you’ll find there.

“Fuck you, Cross.” You spit the words out.

“Apologize now, Crosshair.” Hunter snaps at his brother, pulling his leg back underneath him.

“I told you to stop drooling.” Crosshair is leaning on the doorway, glaring at you with narrowed eyes. If you didn’t know better, his words sound almost angry.

“Fuck you.” You repeat, at a loss for anything else to say. Your cheeks are burning. “What do you want?”

“New mission in over the comms. We leave tomorrow.” He says to Hunter before he spins and leaves you both seething in silence.

You feel tears starting to well in your eyes. You drop back to the copilot’s chair, fists bunched at your side. You hear Hunter shuffle his body glove back up but you can’t bring yourself to look at him again. It feels stupid to get so upset over Crosshair’s words. Maybe if it were anyone else, you could ignore them but the fact that Crosshair thinks so little of you is a wound that you can’t patch up.

“Don’t worry about him.” You feel Hunter’s hand on your shoulder again as he leans forward in the chair.

“What’s his problem anyway?” You silently choke back the tears. “Every time I think we’re getting on okay, he has to do something like this.”

Hunter lets out a belly laugh, taking you aback. You finally look up at him and he can see your look of hurt and anger, stopping the laugh on his lips.

“Oh Maker, you really don’t know, do you?”

It’s mostly shock on Hunter’s face but you feel like you can detect a flash of glee at your puzzled look. He may be the oldest but he is still a brother, after all. He sighs, clearly trying to push his urge to pick on both you and his fuming younger brother aside. As it almost always does, Hunter’s maturity wins out. You brace yourself for the truth. He hates you. He always has. Any good moments have all been in your head. He couldn’t stand you from the second he met you. You fill in the blanks for him as the seconds tick by.

“He’s in love with you, ad’ika.”

“WHAT?”

It takes at least five minutes for you to calm down and another five for you to stop protesting. Hunter is patient with you through all of it.

You stay in the cockpit deep into the night, watching as the distant stars appear in the night sky, glowing bright as suns in the darkness of the desert. You’ve wrecked yourself going back and forth on what to do about Crosshair. Hunter convinced you that the sniper does have feelings for you and that has given you space to examine your own. You realize you have fallen for the quiet man but it still feels complicated. He pushes you away, playing with you to relieve his own emotional constipation. It burns to realize this and anger simmers in your gut.

There’s nothing to be done about it now though and you finally feel sleep creeping up on you. You stand to head back to your room, wrapping a soft blanket that Hunter had left you with over your shoulders. You stop in your tracks as a silhouette steps into the cockpit. You jump and lose your grip on the blanket. It tumbles to the ground around your feet as your pulse races. Your eyes take heart-thumping seconds to adjust from the bright starlight to the shadows of the ship. When they finally do, you realize the intruder is none other than Crosshair, dressed only in his black compression suit, the republic cog on his chest watching you like the crosshair tattooed on his eye.

“What do you want?” Your greeting is cold.

“I’m sorry.”

His silky voice is made for the shadows, you think, as the quiet apology makes its way to your ears. He sounds genuine but you’ve been thinking about your relationship with him for too long to accept something so simple.

“No.”

“What?” Even through the dark, you see his eyes go wide in surprise.

“Your sorry is bullshit. You always do this. You push me away. I’m tired of chasing after you. I don’t want a sorry.” Your voice cracks as the emotions pour out of you. You need to hear him admit it. “Tell me, Crosshair. Tell me why you’re an asshole to me.”

You can see Crosshair purse his lips, teeth gritted on the toothpick. He never would. You sigh. It’s stupid and hopeless to think that he would see you, see what you wanted. See you as anything more than a game.

“You think you can play with me like this? You think you get to be sweet to me in one moment and a dick in the next?” You start in again, his silent denial making you even madder than before. “I know how you feel about me. About your feelings for me.”

If you thought he was going to deny it, the look that washes over his face instantly wipes away any idea of that. He’s gaping at you as if you slapped him. Then his eyes dart to the floor. He looks more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen him.

“Congratulations, you figured it out.” He finally speaks, his satin voice low and measured even as the edges begin to seep with anger. “Been in love with you since the moment you stepped on Kamino but you were too busy making heart eyes with Hunter to see it. There? You happy now?”

“Crosshair,” You start.

“Don’t.” He’s sneering now, still not looking at you. “I don’t want your pity.”

“You think you get my pity?” Any empathy quickly dissipates and you find yourself seething again. You advance on the sniper. “I’ve been wondering for almost two years if you hate me and now I find out that you’ve been in love with me? Who do you think you are, playing games like this?”

You’re fuming now. You press a finger into his chest and step towards him. His eyes snap to yours as he takes a step backwards.

“Stop it now.” He warns as he strips his toothpick from his mouth and flicks it over your shoulder.

“You stupid, stubborn man.” You keep stepping into him, driving your finger into the cog on his chest with every step. He keeps backing away.

“Stop it.” His voice is lower now as he’s almost backed against the wall.

“All this time, you toy with me while I—”

“STOP”

He grabs your wrist and spins you around. You land against the cool durasteel, your arm pinned to the wall just above you by his hand still gripping your wrist. The suddenness of the movement causes your next words to come out in a breathless whisper.

“— fall in love with you.”

Crosshair freezes. His eyes dart over your form, looking to detect any signs of deceit. You feel your face flush bright, both at his closeness and at your confession. Finally, he speaks in the softest hiss.

“If you mean that, say it again. Otherwise, don’t you dare.”

You don’t hesitate.

“I love you.”

He doesn’t hesitate either. As soon as the last syllable leaves your lips, he’s latching on to them. The kiss is angry and bruising but he lets go of your wrist and you feel one hand grip your hip and another snake its way through your hair. As he gently tugs on your locks, you moan. He enters your mouth at the sound, tongue battling your own as if fighting for the very oxygen you’re breathing. He tastes like wood and spice, warm and sweet and the opposite of anything you’ve ever imagined he would. You want to drink him. He must feel the same way because he presses his body to yours. You keen against him as he tugs your hips up into him. The motion makes him rut and you feel his hardening length press against you. A rush of excitement coarse through you.

Crosshair breaks away from the kiss, pulling back so he can see you. His eyes are a spark in the darkness, a fire burning from within him. Heavy breaths fall from his lips, grazing your face. He lingers close to you, knowing he has something to say but barely able to hold himself back long enough to say it. The hand that had wrapped its way into your hair moves to your jaw. He gently traces along your cheek with his thumb.

“Mesh’la, are you sure?” Crosshair purrs, his thumb trailing its way to your lower lip.

“Been sure.” You reply breathlessly.

He nods and then steps back and turns away from you. Before you can even wonder at the movement, he grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers with his long one, and tugs you behind him. He pulls you to his room, quickly shutting the door behind you both and sweeping you back into his arms.

“Say you’re mine.” His voice is hushed and he looks you over with eyes clouded in lust.

“I’m yours, Crosshair.”

His lips finally find yours again and you sigh in relief. The kiss is every bit as hungry as it was in the cockpit. You need to feel him again, and this time, you need more. You bring your hands down to the hem of his shirt and tug at his top. He understands the signal and gladly sheds his upper layer, breaking the kiss for only a moment before returning to you. You know what he looks like without his shirt on. You’ve seen it a thousand times. But this? To be pressed up against him and savor the warmth of his skin, to be able to run your hands over his lithe muscles and find your way to his broad shoulders, built from years of maneuvering his high-powered rifle? This is heaven.

Crosshair begins trailing kisses down your neck. He slowly bites and nips his way along your jawline, mapping out a route to your ear.

“Mine.” He whispers as he sucks your earlobe between his teeth.

You hear the hissing sound of a zipper and realize that, while you were distracted by his lips, his hands have found the front of your jumpsuit. You smile, biting your own lip in anticipation. He undresses you slowly, one hand methodically tugging at the zipper while the other pushes the clothing away from your shoulder. Crosshair follows along with his lips, kissing and sucking on each new bit of skin that reveals itself to him. You know you will be covered in marks. The idea of looking in the mirror tomorrow and seeing them, seeing his marks on you, sends a wave of excitement to your core. He unzips your jumper totally and steps back long enough for you to step out of your clothing. He holds on to one hand to steady you.

Crosshair stares as you stand before him in only your binder and your underwear, just the one hand held out, still clasped to yours. His stillness has always been an advantage as a sniper. He could perch for hours in one spot and wait without tiring. Now, instead of enemy terrain, he takes in you. Instead of the fury you’ve seen on the battlefield, he looks serene. His brow is soft and without lines. His eyes are wide and lust blown. His chest, built and covered with a light scattering of gray hair over his tan skin, moves up and down in slow rhythmic breaths. He is a man in awe.

Finally he moves, tugging you towards him as he steps backwards. He pulls you to the bed. He lowers himself down to sit on it and pulls you into his lap. Right away, you feel his hard length and you realize how wet you are as you press your damp panties against him. You latch on to his lips as you moan at the sensation. Your brain is starting to short-circuit as his lithe fingers trail up your sides and begin to unwrap you from your binder. More fabric falls to the floor. The delicate skin of your breasts instantly pebbles as the cool night air wraps around you. Crosshair’s deft hands find your sensitive nipples. He twists and pinches, making your nipples round even more and your breath hitch in his mouth. He breaks your kiss to bring his mouth down to your left breast. He takes your nipple in his mouth, drawing circles around it with his tongue and grazing it gently with his teeth.

“Crosshair.”

His name leaves your lips in a whisper and he flashes a small, smug smile up as he turns to dote on the next breast. You begin to move your hips against him, aching for more. He hisses at the friction, bringing a hand to your hair again and tugging you down to meet his lips. His other hand drifts back down your ribs and to the hem of your panties. He dips his fingers below the fabric, grazing along your soaking opening. His kiss becomes hungrier as he feels how wet you are at his touch. It’s sloppy now, teeth and tongues clashing as you try to consume each other. You meet him kiss for kiss until one finger slides up into you. You gasp at the sensation and press your forehead to his. He adds another finger, slowly thrusting up into you. You move against him. His fingers are already a stretch but you are still hungry for more.

It seems Crosshair is too as he pulls his fingers from you. In the next motion, he turns over, pulling you into bed with him. He slides your panties down your legs and discards them somewhere over his shoulder. He strips himself of his lower body glove and underwear.

For a moment, he hovers over you. He pumps himself, your wetness on his fingers mixing with his precum. His length is long, thick, and almost painfully hard. He pauses for a moment, looking down at you with the same concentration with which he stares through his scope.

“I’ve always been yours.” Crosshair whispers as he slots himself against you.

He leans down to capture your lips as he enters you. You moan into him at the stretch. He takes his time, letting you adjust as he slowly pushes in inch by inch. Finally, he’s fully slotted in you, pressed against your cervix. Stillness finds him again and he waits, breathing heavy against your neck. You feel the stretch turn from painful to pleasure and you begin to move your hips against his. He inhales deeply as he pulls himself from you almost fully.

Then Crosshair unleashes himself on you. He begins to thrust mercilessly, pounding deep into you so you can feel every inch of him and he can reach every corner of you. Your hands scramble for purchase on his muscled shoulders, dragging nail marks along them that you have a feeling he will wear proudly tomorrow. You’ve never felt so full in your life and you know, in that moment, that you will never feel complete again without him. His hand finds its way to your clit and you begin to squirm from overstimulation. He holds his thumb there though, pressing small circles into your sensitive numb. Flashes of light begin to explode across your vision as the coil in your stomach tightens. You call out his name as you begin to shake. He holds you to him, wrecking you with his cock as he moves to pull your orgasm from you.

The coil doesn’t snap - it shatters. You stiffen, digging your fingers into his arms as the world goes white for a moment as you cry out, euphoric. Crosshair thrusts one - two - three more times. He groans your name into your ear as his hot cum fills you up.

He collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. Any remaining energy finds his way to his fingers where he grips like you're about to run away. After your breathing has slowed, the coma of bliss has passed and you’ve both cleaned yourself off, you find yourself in bed pressed against Crosshair again. You’re still naked, arms and legs entertwined. His eyes are closed as he holds you with one arm across your back, pressing you to his chest. His other hand runs through your hair. You pepper small kisses along his bronze chest. It feels like a dream. A moment of doubt, lingering from all of your brooding crosses over your mind, like a shadow.

“This is real, right? You aren't going to go cold tomorrow?” You ask Crosshair, tilting your head up towards him.

“No, I've got you in my sights now.” He presses his lips to yours. “Nothing gets away.”

#crosshair #tbb crosshair #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair x you #crosshair x reader #crosshair tbb #tbb crosshair x you #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair smut #tbb crosshair smut #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #hunter #tbb hunter #hunter tbb #crosshair x reader smut #crosshair x you smut #tbb #i have a type #it's called toxic and brooding #ariadnesredthread #ariadnes-red-thread #my writing #Ariadne-writes

[blubushie]

what would they show of each merc to turn you gay in TF2style Gay Conversion Camp, even? yeah this is me asking for your professional opinion. i know what you are (joke)

Scout: Him playing baseball. I wanna see him at bat on an actual field and also I wanna pitch for him. 10/10 would intentionally hit him and clear the dugout for an on-field fight

Soldier: Nothing he reminds me too much of my dad it's weird

Pyro: Hear me out. You know those fucken firie pinup posters...?

Demo: Just recreate that "they may never take our freedom" scene from Braveheart. Hot bloke on a horse in a kilt with a big fucken sword? I'm sold.

Engie: Wrangling cattle. That's it send tweet

Heavy: Cleaning Sasha. You can tell a lot about a man by how he maintains his weapons and equipment

Medic: Any clip of him performing surgery. I'm curious if he has a surgeon's grace or if he just goes at it like he's butchering meat. Both are hot for different reasons

Spy: Get rid of that shitty pinstripe and put him a velvet-lapelled tux, give him some scotch, a cigar, and have us work the same black tie formal. Bonus points if he's there to kill me. We'll go from there

Sniper: My first gay childhood crush was Steve Irwin when I was like. 8. My second was (and remains) Paul Hogan at around 9 and John Jarratt from 17 on so. Y'know. Nothing's necessary for Sniper I'm already there (though that said we're so alike that sometimes it feels weird for me to be attracted to him cuz it's like wanting to shag your clone or something—same brain different body or some shit)

#blu whos

[luna-writes-stuff]

Day 29: Anti-Hero, Echo

Song link

Fanfic, fem!medic! reader

Hurt/comfort, fluff

Word count: 3451

Tw: Being overwhelmed, anxieties and doubts. Omega entering her teenager stage, Tech is kinda a dick. Mentions/descriptions of an explosion, but no wounds. Being out of breath, bottled up feelings. Idk, it’s a lot of words to describe insecurities.

Summary: Travelling with the Bad Batch as the only one who had no military training can sometimes work against you. After experiencing your first explosion, you have a much worse time dealing with it than the rest of the Batch, leaving you feeling like the odd one out. Luckily, Echo is there to comfort you.

“I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser

Midnights become my afternoons.”

“Y/N, Omega - run!”

Blaster fire came from around the corner, alerting both of you of the new presence. Forcefully, you tore the compact disk from the drive, no longer giving it time to fully process. It was loaded up 95% anyway, that last information couldn’t have been that important.

Shooting up from your spot on the floor, you grabbed Omega’s arm, dragging her with your as you ran in the opposite direction of the approaching footsteps.

“What happened to the distraction?” You yelled over your shoulder, already seeing Wrecker and Hunter catching up.

“Someone forgot to disarm the cameras!” Hunter replied, grasping Omega from you as he pushed her in front of him.

“I did not!” Echo’s voice shot from behind you.

“I did warn that the system would be rebooted far before we would be able to make an ample escape.” That was Tech. Had the adrenaline not been pumping through your body, you might have laughed at him.

“When my depression works the graveyard shift

All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room.”

“Can we discuss this when we are safe on the ship?” Omega’s higher voice pitched over the four of you.

A loud noise was heard behind you, and before you even had the chance to properly respond to it, you felt yourself being tackled to the floor. All air got knocked out of your lungs as your chest hit the ground harshly.

Smoke blew from the halls behind you, but you were given no time to point it out. Echo almost immediately got off of you, offering you his hand before pulling you up to your feet, setting the pace as fast as you were able to stand.

Wheezing in discomfort, you tried to catch up, already spotting the ship in the distance.

“Tell me we at least got that disk!” Tech shouted, already having recovered from the blow as well.

Unable to form an audible response, you held the disk up, hoping someone could see it. Echo spared you a short look over his shoulder, simultaneously slowing his pace to match yours.

“She’s got it!” He affirmed, placing a gentle hand on your back as he ushered you forward.

“I should not be left to my own devices

They come with prices and vices

I end up in crisis

Tale as old as time.”

The second your feet hit the familiar floor of the Marauder, you fell into one of the chairs, breathing loudly, bent over your knees to try to catch your breath.

“Tech, you’re flying.” Hunter voiced, already seeing Echo rush towards you.

The clone knelt down in front of you, clasping one of your knees gently. He didn’t say anything, but the second your eyes locked onto his, you could feel his silent question.

“I’m fine,” you wheezed out, waving your hand in dismissal. “Just wasn’t prepared.”

When his eyes did not seem to fade from concern once, you tried to smile. “You’re heavier than you look.” A joke. Echo did not seem to respond to it.

“I’m fine.” You assured again, resting your hand atop his as an offer of comfort. Finally, he seemed to let it go, squeezing your hand once before standing back up.

“I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

'Cause you got tired of my scheming

For the last time.”

After the take-off, your breathing seemed steadier, and you prepared yourself to get off of the chair. Wobbling on both legs, you inhaled deeply. They all seemed to handle explosions well. Almost too well. You? You were just recovering from a near death experience. Had Echo not - literally - knocked the air out of you, the panic most certainly would have.

Walking up to the cockpit, you leaned against the doorframe, making your presence known to Hunter, who nodded his head in acknowledgment.

“I don’t know how you guys do it.” You spoke up, referring to the earlier incident.

“Unfortunately, we have gotten used to it.” Tech voiced, preparing the jump to hyperspace.

“I figured.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hunter shrugged. “We are trained for this. You are not. It’s not weird to lack breath after that explosion.”

“Or that running.” Echo added, raising from his seat in a silent gesture for you to take it. But you lightly shook your head instead.

“I’m gonna help Omega out on some work.” And with that, you abandoned the pit.

“It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

At tea time, everybody agrees.”

“This is stupid,” the girl whined, flopping down on her bed as you took the pad from her. “I’m supposed to be training so I can fight out there. Not learning things that I won’t use later.”

“Knowledge is a dangerous opponent,” you commented while reading through her notes. “You don’t want to be all brawn, no brain.”

“That’s why we have you, right?” She sighed. “You know a lot, but you don’t fight.”

Silently gathering her feedback, you formed your lips in a thin line. “Well, I am an adult, and you are not.”

“That’s not fair.”

“When you come of age, you can make your own choices,” you lectured. “No one likes school, but it is something we must all sit through. In the end, you’ll be grateful for it.”

“I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror.

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero.”

“Knowledge won’t help you shoot a fighter out of the sky.” She objected, using her fist as a fighter, letting her hand extend to imitate an explosion.

“Do not be so sure about that.” You attempted to joke, but - once again - it went unheard.

“Our team needs more muscle. We need to destroy the empire!”

“Omega,” you shut her down, lowering the tab and raising your eyebrows. “There are enough children in galaxies out there who never had a chance at education. Do not leave this as a thing you took for granted.”

In response, she sighed, rolling her eyes at you. That was something that took you back. Sure, you’ve had this conversation with her before, but she had never rolled her eyes at you before. She hadn’t rolled her eyes to anyone before.

Instead of scolding her, or commenting on her attitude, your shoulders slumped. You had no more energy left for this.

“You’re right, it is late,” you sighed, handing her the tab back. “And we’ve had quite the day behind us. We’ll resume this tomorrow.”

“Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby

And I'm a monster on the hill.”

Echo always stayed up too late. There was enough to do on the Marauder, even after errands and missions. For now, he was helping Tech with the disk you managed to secure earlier.

You had already made your way into your bed, wrapped under warm blankets, a sudden dreadful feeling setting in in the pit of your stomach. Tiniest things suddenly seemed so overwhelming. The explosion, the fact that you were the only one who did not seem to be okay, Hunter almost pitying you, and then Omega rolling her eyes at you.

You were exhausted. That was simply it. That must have been it. Sure, having travelled with the Batch for as long as you had now, you had gotten used to being a little more out of shape than them, but you simply dealt with it. Yes, you worked on stamina and running speed, but you wouldn’t beat them. That hadn’t even been your goal. Hunter was right; they had been trained for this their entire lives. You had not. You had been a medic hired at the beginning of the clone wars. You didn’t even have that much experience yet. The republic was simply desperate.

But sometimes, you felt like the odd one out. An ironic thing to say in such a group of clones. Omega was right; you always stayed on the ship. You made sure they were safe, and had backup in case they needed it. You flew the ship when Echo or Tech could not. You made sure their weapons were charged, and that their armour was strong enough to get them through. You patched them up when they couldn’t do it themselves. But whenever they left that ship, there was some part of it that left you almost lonely.

And sometimes, that feeling could get overwhelming. So when Tech called your name after you’ve just settled into bed, you had to put all your strength into getting up, and not pretending as if you hadn’t heard him.

“Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city

Pierced through the heart, but never killed.”

“Something wrong?” You asked, ascending down the tiny stairs.

“Are you sure you had the right disk?” He questioned, gesturing towards the piece you had snagged earlier.

“It was the only one there. Couldn’t have picked the wrong one.” You answered, shifting your weight to the balls of your feet. “Why?”

“It appears the location of the recruiting station of the Empire has been lost.” He returned, gesturing towards the screen that had pages of information about said station, except for its whereabouts.

Squinting your eyes at the sudden bright light, you looked at the clone. “Maybe it wasn’t on there.”

“Our intel was very specific about this one.”

And then, as if everything suddenly seemed to click, you froze, your eyes widening as your hands fell by your sides.

“Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism

Like some kind of congressman?

Tale as old as time.”

“Cyar’ika?” Echo spoke, forcing your thoughts back on the present. “Everything all right?”

Swallowing thickly, you looked down at your feet.

“Well, I think I might know why you cannot find it.” You offered meekly. “But I do not believe you’ll enjoy the reasoning.”

You were answered with silence, but you could feel Tech’s eyes drilling holes into the front of your head.

“The disk was still loading when you came running,” you explained, reminiscing the earlier encounter. “It had charged to 95%,”

“Then you unplugged it.” Tech mumbled, continuing your sentence.

You hummed in agreement, shrinking under his stare.

“That disk was our easiest shot at destroying the Empire’s army at the root. You were made aware of that, correct?”

“Yes, I talked about it with Cid, but-“ “So what made you think that we could lose any part of that information?!” He fumed, slamming his hand down on the desk, causing Echo to rise to his feet immediately.

“What would you have had me do?!” You returned in equal volume, though your voice had been upset instead of angered.

“Take cover and wait for those last five percentages!”

“And risk my life?”

“More lives will be lost if the Empire keeps gaining the upper hand!”

“I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

And life will lose all its meaning

For the last time.”

“Enough!” Echo interrupted, standing in front of you, blocking you from Tech’s view. “This was the easiest way, not the only way. We at least know their training now, we can use it against them. We’ll get another chance.”

“This whole mission has been for nothing!”

“What is going on?” Hunter broke through, barging from his cot underneath the small stairs.

“We cannot find the location of the station,” Echo spoke instantly, not giving Tech a moment to rant first. “It appears not all information made it onto the disk.”

Hunter’s face seemed to fall slightly, but he gathered it quickly, nodding his head in understanding.

“It’s been a long day,” he started, walking up to the three of you, planting his hand on Tech’s shoulder. “Get some rest. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

You could hear Tech grumbling under his breath, but you were gently shoved forward before you could make anything out. Echo’s hand made its way on your back, keeping your balance as you ascended the stairs. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you opened the curtains to your shared cot.

“It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

At tea time, everybody agrees.”

You were back under the blankets almost immediately, seeing it as your one resource of solitude and comfort.

“You know Tech didn’t mean to freak out,” Echo stated softly, removing the armour from his upper body. “Hunter’s right: it’s been a long day. It’s getting to all of us.”

When you didn’t respond to him, he went on, stacking the pieces neatly before working on his left arm. “After you left for Omega, Wrecker didn’t even laugh at any of Hunter’s stupid jokes. He went to sleep soon after that.”

“Omega rolled her eyes at me today.” You commented, regretting the words almost immediately after they had left your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised. “It’s not a big deal, I know, but it’s the one thing that made this whole thing even worse.”

“This thing?” He repeated, abandoning everything he had wanted to say earlier.

“It’s nothing.” You dismissed, turning around to face the wall, silently wishing you hadn’t said anything at all.

“I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero.”

His hand, now without armour or gloves, touched your shoulder, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the skin. The mere touch sent goosebumps down your back, making you shiver slightly.

“It isn’t nothing if it bothers you this much.”

You opted to remain quiet now, knowing that if you would run your mouth again, you probably wouldn’t shut it. But Echo wasn’t having it.

“Mesh’la, talk to me.”

Begrudgingly, you turned around, grabbing his hand to prevent him from retrieving it. You were grateful he had closed the curtains already, for the room was darker now. Dark enough that you couldn’t properly make out his face. It gave you slight courage.

“I think the explosion was a bit too much for me.” You admitted, keeping his hand close to your face as you curled up slightly. “All of you pretended as if it was nothing, so it’s stupid of me to pretend as if it is such a terrible thing.”

“It isn’t,” Echo reassured. “Explosions still terrify me to this day. But I don’t get a chance to freeze in the middle of battle. I’m a soldier, I fight my way out of it. You are not.”

“Omega is half my age,” you argued. “She seemed fine.”

“Omega was raised amongst clones. This wouldn’t have been her first gig.”

“I have this dream my daughter in-law kills me for the money

She thinks I left them in the will.”

“But I was the only one,” you finally confessed. “And I am always the only one.”

You heard shuffling from beside you, before the bed dipped even more, Echo’s hand moving from your grip momentarily as he laid down, then making his way to your hold again.

“I don’t fight, Echo. I stay behind where it’s safe.”

“I’d rather have you here, than out there.”

“Of course, you’d say that, but I don’t do anything here. Tech has a mind unparalleled to others, Wrecker has muscles that could beat a Wookiee’s, Hunter can intercept danger far before any of the others can, you know so many battle tactics, that not even commando droids have time to analyse them, but I do nothing that cannot be replaced by someone else.”

“I don’t think I’d like to sleep beside Wrecker.” The man tried to joke, but you shoved his shoulder in disagreement.

“I’m serious, Echo. It’s always been on my mind, but after today it’s grown more apparent.” Another heavy sigh. “And then Omega rolls her eyes at me, and Tech lashes out at me and I don’t know what to say or do anymore.”

“The family gathers 'round and reads it and then someone screams out

"She's laughing up at us from hell".”

“Oh, Cyar’ika,” he mutters, moving his figure closer to yours as his arms wrap around you, pulling you into his hold. His head rested atop yours, a gentle kiss placed on top of it before he stayed there.

“I don’t think you have any idea how significant you are to this team.”

You hummed in mockery, your hands wrapping around his arm as you relished underneath his touch.

“If not for you, Wrecker would have lost all four limbs by now and Hunter would have needed to buy new armour every mission. Tech wouldn’t have his gadgets you get from other planets, Omega would be as smart as a deactivated droid, and I would have been wallowing in self-pity since Skako Minor.”

Again, you didn’t respond to that. You had closed your eyes halfway, fatigue setting in over your frustrations and anxieties.

“You trust me, don’t you?” Echo asked, forcing you to open your eyes, even though he couldn’t see them.

“Yes,” you whispered, resting your eyes after your answer.

“Trust me when I say that I do not want anyone else doing the things you do for us. And they do not go unappreciated by me.”

“It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi, everybody agrees, everybody agrees.”

“I know,” you admitted, already aware of the fact that Echo held more appreciation for you than he’d often think to voice. “But sometimes these thoughts just get the best of me. And I get the feeling I’m alone in them, so I don’t announce them.”

“You’re not alone,” He reassured, gently toying with the ends of your hair. “I sometimes wonder if I’d have been more helpful if I was simply human again.”

At that, you frowned, turning your head slightly to look up at him. “You are human.”

“I am more droid than human.” He mumbled, his hand falling to the small of your back. “And even then, I am a replication of someone else.”

“No,” you refused. “You have a mind of your own. No droid or man can influence that. I’ve seen your brothers, but none of them are like you.”

As you referred to his brothers, you felt him stiffen in your hold momentarily. You both knew you weren’t talking about the Batch. You were referring to his days in the 501st.

“That’s what makes you human,” you went on, trying to get his mind off of the subject, knowing you had hit a sensitive subject, even though you had not meant to. And so, again, you tried to lighten the situation by a joke.

“And I don’t think I would’ve fallen for a droid.”

A low chuckle escaped his throat, vibrating through his chest. A silent sigh of relief escaped your lips.

“You had fallen for me way before I turned into this.”

“Yes,” you agreed. “But it didn’t make me hesitant when I saw you again.”

“It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

At tea time, everybody agrees.”

His hand began to trace patterns under your shirt, something he had done countless times before going to sleep. And even after all that time, a light feeling entered your stomach. Looking back down, you nuzzled in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply.

“Don’t go to sleep like this again, please.” Echo’s voice cut through the quiet air. “You can always talk to me, even if you don’t know how.”

“I know,” you mumbled. “But you seem busy enough with your own problems.”

“I am not,” He argued, a teasing tone to his voice, before it shifted into a serious one again. “I am never too busy when it comes to you.”

“Sap.” You commented.

“Jerk.”

The silence that now hung in the ship was comfortable, and not dreadful. If anything, it was almost welcomed. And you enjoyed it more than you found yourself doing before.

“Thank you, Echo.” You finally said, grabbing the blanket to raise it over both your figures. “I love you.”

A sigh of amusement escaped him as he leaned down once more to place a kiss on top of your head.

“I love you too, Cyar’ika. Get some sleep.”

And then, ultimately, you found some peace in your day. Sleep found you not long after, locked in Echo’s embrace. All night, he wouldn’t move, his mind asleep, but his figure clung to you in an everlasting comforting embrace.

Some matters could be resolved by a simple touch.

“I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero.”

#november writings 2022 #TBB #the bad batch #echo #arc trooper echo #echo x reader #arc trooper echo x reader #Star Wars #tcw #the clone wars #the bad batch x reader #echo tbb #echo the bad batch