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vivaislenska · 7 months

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Seatbelt Situation / hurt!Tech & comforting!Wrecker

Relationship: Tech & Wrecker mostly (Omega, Echo, and Hunter are there to help, too)

Basis: Missing scene from TBB 2x2. While they're fleeing Serenno, Tech's injury gets the better of him. Wrecker shows his love.

Word count: 3,295

Warning: mildly graphic description of injury

This was originally written to show the reactions of the other brothers when they learn of Tech's broken leg. Then, Tech get the love and comfort he deserves that wasn’t shown in the episode. Also, I ended up lightheartedly grumbling about a small dialogue detail on Tech's behalf.

It's also posted on AO3. Feedback, corrections, and more ideas are welcome! Reblogs are appreciated :]

The final, trailing TIE fighter goes up in flames when it gets a punch from Havoc Marauder's aft laser cannon. It sails like a comet in the night sky and careens into the cliffside, lighting up the ridge and treeline in a brief flash of vivid luminosity. Immediately after, Wrecker feels Hunter guide the Marauder downward to the wide, flat clearing to make their pickup.

Debarking the gunner’s mount, Wrecker waives his habitual tidying of the bedroll and pillows on the deck to transform the small compartment back into Omega's bedroom. They may no longer have an Imperial tail, but there's likely more on the way, and they're not out of danger yet.

He descends the ladder to the main deck with one sweeping, practiced backward lunge. He’s on his way to the cockpit to help Hunter anyway, so he stops by the open side port to hurry his wayward siblings inside.

He hasn’t heard much from any of them since they agreed on the necessary radio silence, so it’s an immense relief to see Echo, Tech, and Omega all in one piece and all standing there, poised to board. There’s a fourth person too; an elderly gentleman who might be a Serennian local. He’s sure Tech will fill him in about every single detail, but they really need to get out of here. He motions them in with a smirk but nothing else, so as not to compromise his façade of silent, menacing, muscle-bound sentinel in front of the Serennian stranger.

Echo is the first to climb the ramp, and as soon as he does, he scampers into the cockpit to join Hunter. Good, because he’s better at copiloting than Wrecker anyway, and Wrecker wants to be by the ramp in case of any unwanted trouble near the open hatch. He maintains his post directly across the hold from the open side port, watching, waiting.

Ugh, what’s taking them?

Omega is next to come up the ramp, aided by Tech to hop onto the first rung at the bottom. She's holding something small in her hands when she steps aboard, but only has eyes for Wrecker when she makes her way into the cabin. Now that Echo and Omega are home, a large chunk of Wrecker’s tension has eased, but it won’t do so any further until he sees Tech come jogging up.

“What’s taking him?” Wrecker grouses verbally this time, his eyes not leaving the clearing below as Omega gives him a quick hug and takes a seat.

“He’s coming!” Omega reports. “He’s just saying 'bye to Romar.”

That was probably the last thing Wrecker anticipated Omega would say. Who the hell is this Romar? And Tech is… saying goodbye to him? As if this mission couldn’t have gone any more sideways than it already has. But these are concerns to be addressed once they’re all safely well away from Serenno, and not a moment sooner. Tech knows they’re in a hurry here, so why’s he wasting precious time?

Wrecker’s about to voice as much when he finally sees his younger brother come bounding up the ramp. It’s about time, too. They’ve blown their cover so hard on this “covert” mission that more squadrons of TIE fighters are definitely in hot pursuit of them. Not wanting to waste another moment, Wrecker's hand hovers over the control for the ramp to close.

But Tech, likely to make up for those seconds spent saying his goodbyes, engages the mechanism remotely and beats him to it. The side port's hydraulics hiss obediently as Tech ascends the ramp. Any moment now, Tech will come trotting into the hold and zoom past Wrecker in a hurry to get to the cockpit and help with piloting. At least that’s what Wrecker’s expecting.

What he isn’t expecting is for Tech to come tumbling down the last stretch of the ramp as it nestles into the bulkhead.

But that’s exactly what does happen. In a graceless, stumbling mockery of the agile somersaults that he’s actually capable of, Tech comes sliding down the top of the upended gangway to land in a sprawled heap, on his ass, on the deck of the Marauder.

Wrecker, having just put a hand on Omega’s safety harness, snaps his head over to witness Tech’s ridiculous entrance and can only stare, mouth agape, at his younger brother in silent bewilderment.

“Tech? What the-!?”

Tech, having landed in a seated position with his legs sprawled out in front of him doesn’t reply. He only looks up at Wrecker, blinks his giant, goggled eyes once, twice, and then starts to sway.

“Tech!” Wrecker yells in alarm, wondering what the kriff happened in those split seconds between when Tech was standing there, conversing with a local, bounding up the ladder with haste, and then now. As much as he wants to rush to Tech’s aid, he finishes securing Omega’s safety harness first. Once it clicks into place and endures one or two of his aggressive, tentative tugs, he’s hurrying to Tech’s side and bellowing his younger brother’s name again.

“Tech!”

“It could be from his leg,” Omega says from her seat, her voice rife with fear and concern. “He said he broke his femur! The left one!”

Whatever the reason, Tech now has collapsed fully on the deck, and Wrecker is careful to sidestep said leg as he makes his way over to him and gathers him in his arms. He removes Tech’s pack and slams it up against the only magnetic storage mechanism he can reach from this angle. His little brother is breathing steadily but out cold.

“I gotcha, buddy,” says Wrecker nesting Tech’s smaller frame in front of his own, then scooting backward to get them both safely into a crash seat. “Sorry if this hurts, but we’re about to make the jump outta here.”

Carefully but swiftly, Wrecker drags Tech up from the deck, wincing a little as he doesn’t have the time to make sure that no weight (however much diminished by his very capable maneuvering) is placed on Tech’s reportedly broken leg. But broken leg or not, it won’t be helpful for anyone if neither Wrecker nor Tech is strapped into a crash seat when they depart Serenno’s atmosphere. So Wrecker makes the executive decision to prioritize flight safety.

Tech makes no objection to the abrupt maneuvers anyway and remains completely out of it. His helmeted head bumps inertly against Wrecker's cuirass as the larger clone pulls them both into the same seat and under the same crash harness.

“You all strapped in back there?” calls Echo urgently from the cockpit. “We’ve got heat!”

“We’re good!” Wrecker yells back, not pausing to tell them that no, they aren’t officially strapped in yet and that they might be testing the limits of said safety mechanism if Wrecker can actually get it locked around the both of them. “Go!”

Wrecker can feel the Marauder humming with urgency as she's primed to flee them to safety, and he knows he only has mere seconds to make this seatbelt situation work.

“Alright, buddy, suck it in!” he tells his unconscious brother as he reaches up with one hand to pull on the harness while keeping his other arm protectively coiled across Tech’s chest.

Tech does not, in fact, suck it in, as he’s still mercifully unconscious, but Wrecker does as he hugs his little brother's frame as tightly to him as he can possibly get. Though he’s very lean and a good six inches shorter than Wrecker, Tech is still fully armored and laden with tools and gadgets. Combined with Wrecker’s own massive and armored frame, it's going to be a tight squeeze…

The crash harness screeches in complaint as Wrecker jerks it into place in front of them and forces the locking mechanism to engage. And just in time too, because the Marauder makes a few evasive twists and turns before lurching onto a predetermined hyperlight trajectory.

Despite the safety harness having been successfully muscled into doing double duty, Wrecker still holds onto Tech fiercely. He takes care to grapple his legs and arms around Tech’s own, pinning Tech’s limbs safely in place and (hopefully) preventing further aggravation of whatever injuries they’re working with here. Worried about what Tech’s wounds specifically entail, Wrecker hugs him all the tighter, resolved to keep this carbonite-like lock on him until they can safely unbuckle and assess what Tech got himself into this time.

Finally, the automated alert chimes, informing Marauder’s crew that it’s safe to move about the shuttle. Omega undoes her harness at once, leaping down to her feet and hastening to Wrecker’s (and Tech’s) seat. She finds Tech’s pulse, lifts his helmet off, then crouches down in front of them, likely to try to make some sort of initial medical assessment.

“Oi! A little help back here!” Wrecker bellows to the lads upfront, knowing that the urgency in his voice will have Echo and Hunter both rushing aft in an instant.

And they don’t disappoint. Both brothers come hurrying out of the cockpit, eyes alight with concern that only swells when they land on Tech, slumped unconscious in Wrecker’s lap.

“What happened?” Hunter demands, running to the crash seat and helping Wrecker unlatch and lift the safety harness into the up position. “Careful now. Let’s get him on a rack.”

As they work to shift their youngest brother onto one of the racks, Echo produces one of their sturdy trauma kits and slides into his role as assistant medic.

“He broke his left leg,” Echo says sadly, flicking a medical scanner to life and running it along Tech’s form. “And he’s been running around on it now for hours.”

“He... broke his leg!?” Hunter repeats, devastated. “When?”

“When we crashlanded that cargo container,” Omega supplies. “A heavy crate fell on top of him.”

“How heavy?” Hunter asks, eyeing the medical scanner’s red flashes of warning over Echo’s shoulder, undoubtedly dreading the prospect of a dire report.

“He said—Wrecker, get his tool belt off, will you?—” Echo says, recounting the events as he delegates the tasks that he’s less suited to and gathers supplies from the medical kit. “He said his ‘left femur’ was fractured by ‘150 kilograms of pressure.’ Something to that effect. And the med scanner agrees. It’s closed, but he’s got a pretty nasty oblique fracture. Diaphyseal. And fighting on it didn’t do him any favors.”

“It’s that bad?” Hunter asks sadly. “You think he needs a specialist?”

“It is,” Echo says morosely. “And I do. His leg's already swollen to twice its normal size, and the fracture's been harmfully manipulated.”

“Oh yeah, he does,” Wrecker agrees, empathizing greatly with the misery that accompanies a broken long bone. “Better go find an med center and plug it in now, Sarge. Sheesh, he musta been in a lot of pain.”

“Adrenaline masked most of it, I reckon,” Echo says, planting a small torch between his own lips, then gently sliding Tech’s goggles up to check his pupillary light reflex.

As Wrecker watches Echo conduct the test, something dawns on him.

“No,” Wrecker decides. “No-no, he was really hurting.”

“That’s not what it looked like to us,” Echo says, stowing the light, consulting Tech’s stats further, and searching through their supplies for something they can use as a splint. “He was handling it.”

“It’s just… 150 kilograms… of pressure? He said that?” Wrecker asks, lending a hand in the rummaging. “Tech said that… just like that?”

“Yeah, I think so,” says Echo glancing at Omega and receiving a confirmatory nod from their sister.

“That’s what bugs me,” Wrecker tells them apprehensively.

“Why?” Hunter asks, still looking stricken at the discovery of his brother’s injury. “That’s a typical Tech report. Even if it’s to do with his own kriffing bones.”

“But that’s not quite right, is it?” Wrecker tells them, as the sheer amount of pain that Tech must have really been in from the injury finally dawns on him. He reaches over and gently cups the side of Tech’s face, wishing there was any possible way that he could take away some of the pain Tech had endured and was still going to have to endure for a while longer because of this. “Well, kilograms ain’t… a unit of pressure, is it?”

“What?” Echo asks, his tone supplementing Hunter and Omega’s visible confusion.

“Kilograms ain’t… well, you know… used as a unit of pressure. It’s a… unit of mass,” Wrecker says carefully, his tongue feeling cumbersome in his mouth as he repeats the information that Tech, himself, had helped him learn. “I’m just saying, he musta been really kriffed if he said that is all, and I hope we got something strong in that kit to give him when he comes ‘round.”

Hunter and Echo blink in surprise at him for a moment before a shared look passes between them, and they grasp the gravity of Wrecker’s remark.

“I’ll get in touch with some friendlies,” Hunter says, somehow sounding even more resolved than he’d been moments ago and making for the cockpit, “I’ll find us an orthopedic specialist we can trust. Let me know when he wakes.”

“You got it,” Echo says, now searching for a stronger hypo to administer to Tech.

It’s only a few moments later, as Wrecker is easing off the last of his younger brother’s armor and gear that Tech begins to stir.

“Tech? Tech, hey,” Echo says encouragingly, “you with us?”

Intermittently, Tech becomes aware of voices and all the ambient noises of his beloved ship in flight. Though… the sounds are all muddled and greet him as though they’ve been hurtling through time and space to chase and catch up to him. The voices are talking quietly over him. Which is fairly unusual.

Ah. Serenno. He must have succumbed to his injuries on Serenno and lost consciousness. Again.

The previous time it happened, it had been Romar who roused him from his ill-timed syncopation. This time, however… he isn’t quite sure. He summons all of his strength and forces himself to wake up.

Just as he’s blinking his heavy eyelids open, pain lances through his left leg like a bolt of lightning, and he sucks in a breath through his clenched teeth. Instinctively he tries to curl forward and reach for the limb, which is now ablaze with a pain that he’s seldom (if ever) experienced quite like this before now.

Gentle hands grasp him firmly, forcing him to lay back down with his arms securely, benignly at his sides. Yes, his left femur, he recalls. Fractured substantially and now with an accompaniment of soft tissue damage and further injury from rigorous use of the limb immediately after the precipitating event. He starts to hyperventilate at the memory of it and the implication of how said injury will impact his effectiveness to his team... to his family...

“Easy, Tech,” says a gentle, deep baritone voice directly above him. Echo. “We gotcha. You’re okay.”

Tech cracks his eyes open but is only met with a blur of indistinct colors and shapes. He can’t help but gasp in alarm. His goggles hadn’t been compromised, had they? He really didn’t suspect they had and would be distressed beyond measure if that were the case.

“They're right here,” says Omega’s voice, a small shape bobbing around the periphery of his bleary view. Small hands gently lift and slide his goggles from his forehead down onto his face so that his corrective lenses are seated properly in front of each eye. He sighs in immense relief when his surroundings come into sharp focus to reveal that he’s supine in the main hold of the Havoc Marauder with Echo, Omega, and Wrecker, all either directly next to him or nearby.

“Hunter?” is Tech’s first thought, and the question is on his tongue before he can even think through and catalog the probable answers. They all need to be together. It’s a priority.

“In the cockpit,” Echo assures him. “Finding us a safe place to get you looked after.”

“Oh,” Tech says. “Am I the only one injured?”

“You are,” Echo confirms. “But enough so for the lot of us, Tech. I’m just glad you waited until you got to Marauder before passing out.”

“I did so in the forest as well,” Tech reports pragmatically. “Romar located and assisted me.”

“Oh, so when you ate it on the ramp coming back, that was round two?” Wrecker chimes in, sounding indecently impressed.

“I did not ‘eat it’ coming back aboard Marauder,” Tech huffs, though he reasonably can’t recall what exactly happened that lead him to the predicament he’s in currently.

“Did too,” Wrecker insists, radiating his perplexing approval for when any one of them pushes through an injury severe enough to ultimately render them unconscious. “Omega and I both saw it.”

“Yeah, sorry, Tech, you kinda did,” Omega admits. “Wrecker and I were scared.”

“Apologies for that… entrance,” Tech says with a sigh. “That sounds somewhat more dramatic than what I had intended.”

“S’alright!” Wrecker says, as Omega makes for the cockpit, likely to update Hunter. “You made it, and that’s all that matters!”

“How’s your pain?” Echo asks soberly. “I can cut it. Keep you comfortable for the ride, at least.”

“It is tolerable,” Tech reports, cringing at the idea of their ever-dwindling medical supplies being expended on him.

“Nah, I’ll cut it,” Echo decides for him instead.

“I suspect I do not have any say in the matter?” Tech hedges.

“You don’t,” Echo confirms in a tone that is patronizing and infuriating and, indeed, meant to be both. Adding to the infuriating aspect. “The med scanner doesn’t lie.”

“That is because it has been properly calibrated. Are we—agh!” Tech’s next question is interrupted by a sharp stab to his jugular vein, chased by a burning, cold sensation. He flinches involuntarily at the abrupt contact but doesn’t begrudge the relief that follows. The intense pain in his leg ebbs and morphs into innocent numbness very rapidly, and he'll now be able to focus more adequately on all pertinent tasks. But still, “that gesture warrants warning to the patient,” he grumbles at Echo.

“He never does that,” Wrecker gripes, commiserating with Tech likely because of the injury sustained when they first fled Kamino, pursued by...

Crosshair. Tech's heart aches with a pain that doesn't even touch the pain that was caused by his broken femur. No, it's too much to think about right now. He has to focus on their next move. What they need to make ends meet and keep them safe.

“I know what the module says to do,” Echo tells them regarding his proclivity to employ surprise hypo attacks, “and I know what Kix says to do.”

“Oh, so they are mutually exclusive concepts,” Tech complains, “and you practice the latter.”

“Ehh, the lessons intersect here and there,” Echo says with a smirk, gathering what he’ll need to perform the application of traction, depending on how long their voyage to get medical help will be.

“Well, that is very comforting to know,” Tech says drily. “And do Kix’s teachings dictate that I be allowed my datapad to distract me during any impending procedures?”

“They do,” says Echo lightly, grabbing Tech’s coveted datapad from where his gear has been piled and placing it in Tech’s lap. Wrecker grabs something soft and carefully helps Tech prop his head up enough to read.

Tech gladly accepts the help and the offered datapad. He toggles it to life and settles in. He has a lot of work to do, and he can’t let something like an inconvenient femur fracture deter him from providing for his family.

And... just maybe… eventually recovering their lost brother too.

Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this little fic. The kg of pressure idea isn’t meant to be wELL aCtuALlY, but I’ve never seen pressure expressed in kg and it doesn’t make sense to me 😅. I think Tech really was jacked up by that wretched crate, and that’s why he said that. They showcased his resilience (among other qualities!) in this episode and it was fantastic

I plan to post my fics to Tumblr, make recs, and share the fics of others from AO3. I'm also experimenting with making some dividers/banners (thank you so much, @freesia-writes)! I got some serious undergrad EE course vibes when recreating Tech's technical doodles lol.

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rainydaydream-gal18 · 2 years

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(The Bad Batch) Beach Vacation Intro

The Bad Batch lands on the tropical resort planet of Spira. A contact of theirs is helping you all out by letting you lay low in a private beach house on one of the islands. You and a certain Bad Batcher have been secretly dating for a little while, and you hope to make the most of the romantic setting.

Choose your own ending!

Word Count: 2,123

Warnings: None

You gazed out at the golden sandy beach that stretched on for miles beneath the Marauder as Tech maneuvered it to land among the green palms that lay farther inland. On the other side of the sandy shore, there was an endless expanse of blue shimmering like topaz in the sun.

“So,” you spoke up, stealing a glance at the Sergeant who was in the next seat over taking in the scenery just as you were. “Are you sure we can trust this contact of yours?”

Hunter folded his arms. “He’s all we’ve got right now.”

“That sounds promising.”

“He hasn’t given us a reason not to trust him.”

You shrugged, grasping at your safety restraints as Tech’s landing became a little too rough for your liking. “This just seems too good to be true. It looks like a vacation spot.”

“It technically is,” Tech replied, flipping a series of switches to shut down the Marauder. “Spira is a well-known trip destination. Some of the islands are far more populated and filled with luxury hotels. The island we’ve landed on is sparsely populated due to this side being privately-owned.”

“I read that there’s a town with a market!” Omega spoke up from her seat.

Tech adjusted his goggles. “That would be on the other side. It’s a bit of a hike, but according to reviews on the holonet, it’s worth visiting.”

“We’re supposed to be laying low,” Echo reminded, walking up to the cockpit. He rested his scomp arm on the head of your chair. “This place is practically run by the Empire now. I don’t like it.”

“Now there’s something new,” Crosshair muttered.

“We get our own bungalow and our own beach!” Wrecker pointed out with a grin. “I say we at least try to have some fun!”

You removed the safety belts and stretched your arms up over your head. Hunter stood from his chair and turned to brief the squad.

“Remaining undetected during our stay here is top priority,” he said. He caught Omega’s hopeful gaze. “But I don’t see why we can’t have a little downtime too.”

“Yes!” she whispered under her breath.

“We’ll set up some ground rules at the bungalow. Alright, squad. Let’s move out.”

You moseyed to the back of the ship to grab your pack, taking a quick peek inside to make sure you didn’t forget anything important. Extra clothes, a few basic toiletries, and a holopad. It was all there.

You filed down the ramp and smiled instantly at the lovely rush of salty air that filled your lungs. A warm breeze ruffled your clothes and kicked up particles of sand against your skin. To your right, palm trees and other greenery were swaying to the rhythm of the waves crashing on the shore. Omega was already kneeling in the sand, letting a handful of it slip through her fingers curiously.

“It’s so beautiful!” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. Her eyes wandered the scenery. “Where’s the bungalow?”

“It’s just up ahead,” Tech replied. His face was practically buried in a holopad. “Farther down the beach.”

Wrecker lifted Omega onto his shoulders with a cheery laugh. “Let’s go, kid!”

You fell in step between Tech and Echo while Wrecker and Omega went ahead of the group. Their excited chatter filled the beach, and the rest of the squad couldn’t help but be amused at the youngest member’s enthusiasm. Even Echo cracked a smile out of the corner of your eye.

The beach house came into view. The exterior looked as if it were constructed from materials gathered near the beach itself. The walls were made of faded wood boards with darker frames to outline the windows, and the whole place was complete with a thatch roof. It was much larger than you had expected with an additional two shacks, identical in appearance but smaller in size, that connected to the main structure by a porch that wrapped around.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” you asked, mouth falling open.

Tech nodded. “This would be it.”

“It’s amazing!” Omega exclaimed, and Wrecker set her back down on the sand so she could run over and investigate. The first thing you did was climb the stairs to get a peek at the view from the porch. It was midday, so the sun reflected brightly off the sand and the water, and it was absolutely gorgeous.

Hunter knelt down and picked up one of the conch shells that lined the front walkway. “Just where he said they’d be,” he said, lifting a pair of key cards. “_______, take the other one?” You held out your hands to catch it.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

You went to the front door with Omega at your heels. She was nearly bursting with excitement as she waited for you to unlock it. The key card registered, and the door slid open with a rickety woosh. As charming as the outside of the bungalow was, the inside took your breath away. The main room was bright and airy. You had the ample number of windows to thank for letting the lovely sunlight in. The kitchen was immediately to your left with aged wooden cabinets and gray stone counter tops. On the right, there was a spacious living room with wicker furniture to add to its beachy charm. The couch had turquoise cushions and sat opposite two matching chairs, separated by a low caf table.

Omega started exploring right away, tossing her bag aside at the front door and hurrying into the living room first. You shook your head in affectionate amusement as she sat in each of the chairs as if to test them out before stretching out on the couch momentarily. Then, she went on to look out the nearest window.

“This one has a nice view of the beach!”

“Yeah?” you joined her at the window and rested your hands on the sill. “That water looks so refreshing. We should definitely swim later.”

“Well, the conditions are certainly ideal,” Tech informed you. “At this time of year, the water isn’t too cold.”

“Aw yeah!” Wrecker plopped down on the couch, brows shooting up at the snap and creak of the wicker under him. Fortunately, the thing held it together. Hunter was walking through and doing his initial survey of the surroundings. He opened one of the doors straight back to peek in.

“Bathroom’s here,” he called. Next, he glanced in the other room. “This is the master bedroom. There are three bedrooms total and two beds to each one.”

“Someone’s going to have to take the couch,” Tech said.

“I will,” Echo volunteered.

“_______ and I will share a room,” Omega added, and you nodded in agreement.

“Sounds good.”

Wrecker grinned at Crosshair, who had gone into the living room to scope it out for himself. “What do you say, Crosshair? Want to share?”

The slender sniper rolled his eyes, his face scrunched up in a dramatic display of disdain, though you knew it to be an act. The two brothers were known to stick together more often than not. “Fine.”

“Then me and Tech will take the last room,” Hunter decided. “Glad we got that settled.” You and Omega got dibs on the master bedroom, so you both headed back to check it out and drop your belongings there. It was roomy and with simple decor reminiscent of the sea. Omega claimed one of the twin beds, so you set your things down on the remaining one.

“What do you think we’ll do first?”

“We should probably get something to eat,” you said. “Then maybe we can see if the guys want to take a look around.”

“And go swimming?”

You laughed. “Yes, and go swimming.”

Seemingly satisfied with your answer, Omega hopped off her bed and headed out the bedroom door, most likely to see what the group had planned. You took a few moments to compose yourself in front of the charming vanity mirror. While the squad’s stay on Spira wasn’t technically a vacation, you couldn’t help but get excited over the opportunity to spend some quality time with a certain Bad Batcher at a romantic place like this…

The two of you had been keeping things on the down-low, which is very hard to do on a crowded ship like the Marauder.

You had ditched the armor before landing and changed into an extra set of clothes Suu had gifted you with. Being that the Lawquanes were leaving on a transport on such short notice, they couldn’t bring everything with them. She gave you several short- and long-sleeved tunics that were adjustable to the wearer’s size, just as Cut had passed on some of his things to the others. It was very fortunate since you and the squad had to stop at a variety of planets and ports every now and then to fuel and stock up.

You smiled at your reflection in the mirror. You felt beautiful and ready for the day.

- - - - - - -

“Got you!” Omega exclaimed, pointing. You splashed her right back, laughter from both of you ringing out in the salty air.

“Alright, break it up!” Wrecker hollered as he ran waist-deep in the water until he was close enough to make a huge splash that hit you right in the face. He roared with laughter as you and Omega teamed up to go after him. Hunter waded into the water, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand while observing the shenanigans.

Echo was sitting comfortably in a chair under the protective shade of a beach umbrella. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he wouldn’t be moving from that spot for the next few days by how he leaned back with his arms folded behind his head.

Crosshair was perched on another beach chair with a pair of dark shades over his eyes as he surveyed the scene. His expression was short of a scowl, which meant he must have been enjoying himself.

Tech was still in the process of applying sunscreen. It was amusing to see just how invested in the task he was, though it didn’t exactly surprise you considering the lecture he gave the entire group about the importance of protecting oneself from the harsh rays of the sun. Eventually, once he was satisfied with the coverage, he shuffled down to join Hunter as he ventured deeper into the water.

“My data was correct. The water is rather nice.”

“Yeah, not bad,” Hunter agreed.

You were having a blast. Everyone was having such a good time. Not to mention you kept catching the gaze of a certain Batcher. Several times. It was subtle, and anyone who wasn’t paying attention wouldn’t think much of it…but for you, it was making your heart race. You couldn’t wait to spend some time with him…

- - - - - - -

Bright afternoon sunshine softened into orange light that washed over the water. Everyone had their good times, but the day wasn’t quite over yet. You emerged from the bathroom with new clothes to see the squad having a discussion in the living room. Wrecker leaned against the wall casually with arms folded.

“I saw these little lanterns glowing in the jungle on our way back in the house,” he said. “I kinda want to explore and see where they lead.”

“That’s cool, Wrecker!” Omega nodded. “What about you, Crosshair? Want to go see the lanterns?”

Crosshair removed a toothpick from between his lips to respond. “No, thank you. I’m going to take a walk on the beach.”

A curious decision on his part, considering how disdained he looked earlier while on the beach with everyone else.

“There’s an old telescope in the shed,” Echo said from one of the chairs. “I thought I’d dig it out and take a look at the stars.”

“That sounds fun,” Omega nodded. “What about you, Hunter?”

Hunter glanced up. “The village sounded interesting. Tech said there’s a path that leads to that side of the island.”

“That, I did.” Tech confirmed, raising his pointer finger for emphasis. “I also read that there is a series of caves nearby. It seems like something worth looking into, so that’s where I’ll be headed.”

“________?” Hunter asked, and you froze on the spot. “What are your plans?”

“Oh, um…” You paused, catching a certain someone’s attempt at a casual glance in your direction. He made a point to let you know where he’d be.

All you had to do was follow.

“I think I’ll…”

“...go to the village with you, Hunter.”

“...check out the caves with Tech.”

“...explore with Wrecker.”

“...stargaze with Echo.”

“...go back to the beach with Crosshair” (COMING SOON).

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monako-jinn-stories · 1 year

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Captain Howzer X Fem! Reader FanFic

Rebels on the Run

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Chapter Two

Chapter One

Ryloth is less than ideal of a place to be stranded, but you don’t exactly have any way off the planet. Your starfighter was destroyed when the men of your battalion fired at you, and ever since you narrowly escaped with your life, you’ve been hiding in the wild of the planet. That’s not to say you haven’t gone to the cities every so often, but you wore layers of cover when you did. Not only do you stick out as a human, you don’t want to be recognized as a Jedi.

It’s been months of hiding, and there’s been no variation in your weeks. Each day starts the same; scouting the perimeter of wherever you’re currently hiding before settling back down to make your meager breakfast. Certain days involve different activities after breakfast.

Primeday is when you would clean up your area, making sure everything is washed and put away, or neatly placed out of the way. Centaxday is when you go to the nearest city for food. Taungsday, you head to the farthest city for other supplies, like toiletries. Zhellday you sneak over to your lookout near the imperial base, spending the day listening in on what you can and observing the work of the empire. Benduday is when you allow yourself to relax, as much as possible given your state of being a fugitive.

There was one recent Zhellday where some very interesting events went down. First, what appeared to be a batch of rogue clones attacked the imperial refinery, and then a guard was sent to guard Lessu. Imperial forces were deployed from the Capitol building, but another squad had set up a trap at one of the Capitol’s exits, seemingly for the rogue batch of clones. After some happenings inside of the building, one lone clone exited and stated his defiance to the Empire. Then, he was arrested and escorted inside the Capitol building.

Once you’d been sure that nothing else interesting or important was going to happen, you’d decided to head back to your current hiding spot. As you had walked, you’d thought about the events you’d witnessed and how it might change things for you. If there were insurgencies within the Empire, then perhaps you could get to some people who would help you escape without asking too many questions. Not that you could ever trust a clone trooper, not after what happened with your own.

You can still remember the feeling of panic as your starfighter was shot down, the voices of your beloved friends ordering your death. And then the sound of your commander ordering his brothers to take his life, afterwards.

“Commander Sans, General Jinn’s ship has been shot down. It crashed and exploded on impact. There is no way that she could have survived,” Captain Hex had said over the comms, not knowing that you had in fact survived and could still hear.

“Our job is done then,” Sans replied. “Except, I have one more order for you and Major Steele.”

“Yes, sir. What is it, sir?” Steele asked.

“I have done what I was ordered to do, but I do not wish to live in a world without y/n. I know she was a traitor, yet my heart continues to betray me. My love for her will never overcome any other feeling I feel towards her. I could never hate her, and because of that, I will only ever hate myself for continuing to love her after taking her life.”

“What are you saying, sir?”

“I need you and Captain Hex to kill me.” The words had left Sans so effortlessly, almost matter-of-factly, as if this should have been the most obvious request.

“Sir?” Hex said, stepping closer to him. “I will not kill you, Sans.”

“Hex,” Sans said, and you heard his feet shuffle as he turned to face him, “I am ordering you and Steele to kill me. Shoot me and take my life, for I cannot live in this galaxy without y/n.”

“But Sans-”

“No, Steele. There is no argument. If you will not kill me, then I will take my own life.”

A silence followed these words, and you could only assume Hex and Steele had exchanged glances, a silent conversation playing between the two.

“Alright, Commander,” Hex said, “but we’re coming with you.”

“Then I will be waiting to march on with you,” Sans said before a brief silence followed by two blasters firing, and then both of those blasters firing again. And then endless silence on the comms.

You still feel guilt for not saying something, for not revealing that you had survived. But you couldn’t, because you would have been hunted down and killed. As much as you wanted more than anything to save their lives, you knew, in the end, it would have only delayed the inevitable. And you perhaps might have condemned Sans to killing you as you faced him, which you’d much rather him not have to bear the weight of. The only consolation is knowing that Sans, Hex, Steele, Aid, Tie, and Bomber are now all together again.

A week had passed, and you’d returned to the imperial base. It had been busier, and you could only assume it was because of the defiant clone and the rogue clones. You had heard whispers in the cities that General Cham Syndulla and his wife Eleni, along with their daughter, had been rescued and taken off planet by the rogue clones. A bitter feeling flooded through you as you’d heard the news. Of course you weren’t lucky enough to also be saved by them. It’s what you get for remaining hidden in the shadows.

As you had watched, your mind kept drifting back to think about the defiant clone and the few followers he had raised. You wondered what the likelihood of him still being on planet is, and the likelihood of you being able to help-

No, you’d told yourself before you could finish the thought, you are not going to risk your life for a clone that will just end up killing you or betraying you.

And yet, a few weeks later, you weren’t given much of a choice in the matter.

It’s earlier than normal when you wake up today, and your body is rigid with tension. Something feels off, it’s what had awoken you early, and you can’t tell whether it’s danger or just cautionary. You don’t give yourself much time to debate it. You crawl out of your make-shift bed, which is in reality just a slab of stone, and put your bounty hunter mask on before grabbing your blaster and heading close to the entrance of your hiding spot. You keep hidden while you listen to their steps, trying to sense their location through the force. They seem to be curious about whether or not this area could provide shelter.

“Huh, I wonder how easy it would be to carve out a living space in this rock,” the person says, and his voice sends a chill down your spine. “No doubt that it would be hard to find me out here.” Your grip on your blaster tightens, sensing him continuing to look around, getting closer to you. “That’s weird,” he mutters, and you can tell from his force signature that he’s found your secret path, the one that leads directly to your entrance. His footsteps echo down the short, hollowed out corridor, and you let out a steadying breath before you make your move.

In an instant, your blaster muzzle is pressing into the side of the clone trooper’s head, and he’s frozen in place, his hands up in surrender. A silence fills the room, and you fight every instinct that tells you to shoot him now, taking away his chance to shoot you.

“You’ve wandered a long way from your little imperial base,” you say, “what led you all the way out here?”

“I’m wanted by the Empire. I’m trying to escape the planet and join the clones who are rebelling.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Look at me,” he says, beginning to move his hand to gesture at himself. You grab his wrist, fearing him possibly reaching for his blaster. “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you. Besides, I have no reason to hide anything. If you just look at me, you’ll see proof that the Empire was holding me in prison and was trying to torture information from me.”

“Anyone might have tortured you. For all I know, you’re trying to make your way back to the Empire.”

“How can I prove to you that I’m being honest?” You think for a second, trying to decide what could possibly reveal to you that he’s not lying. There is one way, but it’s risky, especially given that he is a clone, but you take the risk anyway.

“Say it again.”

“Say what again? That I’m being honest?”

“No, your claim about fleeing the Empire.” Your grip tightens slightly on him, and your fingers wrap around to feel his pulse.

“I’m wanted by the Empire. I’m trying to escape the planet and join the clones who are rebelling.” You close your eyes as he speaks and sense his words. Unsurprisingly, he’s telling the truth. You knew his voice had been eerily similar to the defiant clone, and this is all but a direct confirmation of his identity.

“I believe you,” you reply after a minute. You let go of his hand and lower your blaster, motioning for him to sit on your make-shift chair while you sit across from him on your make-shift bed.

“If I may ask,” he says, “how did you know you could trust me just by holding my wrist?”

“When people lie, their heart rate typically spikes. I felt your pulse, and it remained steady.” It isn’t exactly false, but it’s not quite the method you had used. But you also aren’t going to outright admit that you’re a Jedi when he could still kill you.

“Ah, I see,” he says, his hand subconsciously rubbing his other wrist. “Now I guess it’s my turn to ask who you are.”

“None of your business,” you reply simply, and he looks at you silently for a second before nodding.

“I understand you might not trust me completely-”

“The only thing I trust about you,” you begin, cutting him off, “is what you told me about your condition with the Empire.”

“I guess that’s fair,” he replies. “But, I can promise you that I’m not a threat.”

“Not a threat to who?”

“You. Anyone. Well, anyone except the Empire.”

“You’re a clone trooper.”

“Yes.”

“You’re a threat to the Jedi. You’re a threat to citizens who do not want to align with the Empire, even if you’re not with them anymore. People will still see you and fear occupation.”

“The Jedi have all been wiped out,” he responds, “and it is not the clones that forced the occupation, it’s the imperials that order us around.”

“But they’re the sign of occupation, are they not?”

“I mean…I guess.”

“And how can you be certain all the Jedi have died? I’ve heard quite a few rumors about some surviving and in hiding.”

“Well, those are just rumors,” he counters.

“But if you knew there was a Jedi nearby, you’d kill them, right?”

“I-” he begins, but then his face scrunches in thought, almost as if he’s in pain. His hand goes up to his head, but then he shakes it, clearing his throat before looking back up. “Part of me believes that it is my duty to make sure all the Jedi are dead, but the other part of me believes that the Empire lied in order to take control.”

“How come you aren’t convinced of this like you’re convinced that the Empire is wrong?”

“Well…I don’t know,” he admits, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s almost like…it’s natural for me to think the Jedi deserve to die.”

“But you fought alongside them for years, did you not?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And did they ever show signs of betrayal then?”

“No.”

“So what makes you believe that they might have betrayed the Republic?”

“I…don’t know. Like I said, it just feels natural.”

“But there’s no evidence to support this natural feeling?”

“No, there’s not.”

“Then perhaps there is no reason to believe they betrayed the Republic. Perhaps the Empire lied about it.”

“Is that what you believe?”

“Yes,” you say simply. “From the moment he became Supreme Chancellor, I have never trusted Palpatine. Everything he said was always too vague, too…interpretive. I believe that he’s always been up to no good, and never truly liked the Jedi.”

“I guess that does explain some things that he did and said,” the clone responds. “I’m willing to change my opinion on the Jedi if I’m shown that they did not betray the Republic.”

“I’m afraid there is no concrete way to prove this. There is no evidence that the Empire betrayed the Jedi. All you can really do is take the word of those who knew and were close to Jedi.”

“Did you know a Jedi?”

“Yes…I did,” you reply. “He was like a father to me. He cared for me in ways that no one else ever had. And he always had the best interests of others on his mind. Especially my best interests. He taught me how to be the person I am today, how to treat and care for others, while always looking out for myself as well.”

“He sounds very important to you.”

“He was. And he never would have betrayed the Republic. He loved the men under his command as a father loves their sons. And the other Jedi that he introduced me to had equal love for their men. They were all pure of heart and just wanted to help others.”

“I see. I’m sorry that you lost so many people, especially the one who was like a father to you. What was his name? I might have fought under his command.”

You hesitate, not knowing whether or not revealing his name could reveal your own identity, but you decide to take the chance, because you hadn’t spoken his name since his death, other than in screams of despair and nightmares. “His name was Codo Daawa.”

“Codo Daawa? General Daawa?” the words are almost sad, regretful even. “He was a very kind person. I did fight under his command a few times. I looked up to him and how he always looked out for us and protected us. I’m sorry, again, for your loss.”

“Thank you,” you reply quietly. A few minutes of silence pass between the two of you, both of you in your own minds. You are again thinking about the feeling that you’d had when Codo had died, how you instantly felt a difference in the force. You’d known without a doubt that he was next to you, but within the force, and he wanted more than anything to comfort you, though it was impossible.

“My name is Howzer, by the way,” he says, breaking the silence. “Formerly Captain Howzer, in case General Daawa ever mentioned me.”

“No, he didn’t,” you reply, and he nods understandingly.

“And your name?”

You bite your lip under your mask, a new wave of panic taking over. Do you dare reveal your real name? What are the chances that he knows who you are? Even if he’s heard of you, would he immediately assume you’re the same person as General Jinn?

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” he adds as you remain quiet, “I understand you still don’t trust me.”

“It’s better for both of our safety if you don’t know.”

“I see.”

“But,” you say, clenching your hands in your lap, “I won’t get anywhere in life if I never trust again.” He looks at you curiously, patiently waiting for you to continue with where you’re going. You let out a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You lift your head to gaze at him through your mask. And after closing your eyes and preparing for the worst, you open your mouth to speak.

“My name is y/n. Y/n Jinn.”

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#captain howzer #howzer #star wars #star wars the bad batch #star wars the bad batch fanfic #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #the bad batch #howzer the bad batch #captain howzer the bad batch #captain howzer x reader #howzer x reader #jinn the storyteller🤍🤍#rebels on the run

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annwayne · 2 months

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Delayed Fate - A Story from The Red Logs

Chapter 1/3

Next Chapter ->

Fem!OC X Crosshair

Word Count: 2395

Fic Summary:

Written for the Love & Lust Flash Fic Contest in The Erotica Abyss (chapter 2)

After splitting up a fight between two clones in her bar, Anya finds herself in the company of the most interesting clone she's ever come across-and she's known a *lot* of clones. (And if you squint-plot)

How Anya and Crosshair's fates first intertwined.

AO3 Link

Warnings for whole fic:

Violence, Injury, Blood, At Home Medical Treatment, Biting, Praise, Gloves, Dom/Sub undertones, PinV sex, Oral Sex (F &M Receiving), Fingering

Authors Note:

A little Valentines gift. Three chapters in total, chapter one today, two tomorrow, and three... in a few days? I'm working on it lol.

The night started out like all other nights. Busy.

“Six beers to table three, send two Star Vines to table eight, and please no one serve anymore alcohol to the pair of clones by the door attempting to solicit anyone who comes within a ten foot radius.” I, as usual, was in the middle of it all. “They need to sober up if they’re going to find their way back to the barracks.” I sighed, glancing at the clones in question as Lynn and Jayas nodded in agreement. Another normal night taking orders, making drinks, and mingling with the main clientele of my bar-clones.

Everything considered, I couldn’t complain. Busy was paid bills and a focused mind. No more petty theft just to survive-though Jayas didn’t let that last for too long. No more time lost to memories I buried and locked away deep in my psyche. No, no more problems when I was busy. I was grateful for it, even at the cost of sleep and a sore body. Yes, everything was normal when I was busy.

That was, until a fight broke out by the darts.

The first signs were the unbroken string of swears that rivaled even Jayas’ stubbed toe speech. Then a crowd formed in that semicircle shape that either meant an arm wrestling contest…or a fight. I didn’t think to actually go check until I heard the dull thunk that only armor hitting armor could make.

“Hey!” I yelled as I stomped through the bar floor, weaving through groups of clones unaware of what was going on. By the time I reached the dance floor enough patrons had gathered around the fight that I had to shove my way through them. “Break it up!” I yelled again as I emerged from the line of white armor made purple by the lights above. Jeering mixed with the pounding music from speakers above, drowning all attempts to talk the clones down. So, without a second thought I jumped into the mess of black and white armor.

One was on the ground by that point, on his hands and knees with what I suspected was blood dripping from his mouth. I faced white armor first, thinking the fight over. Instead, I felt a long forgotten spark of force–warning. Electricity spiked through my limbs. It spun me on my toes just in time to see the clone in dark armor come up with his fist aimed to uppercut the other clone. Or would have, if I wasn’t in the way.

Seconds. Pupils shrunk in realization. Less than a second to stop. Anyone normal would lose a tooth or two. I wasn’t. But I was out of practice.

I dodged in time to keep all my teeth in, but not in time to save my shoulder from cracking.

The impact pushed me off stance and I stumbled back into the intended target. Both men dropped their fists, rage forgotten for a heartbeat.

Then the crowd jumped in.

“Get him!”

“Kick him out!”

“Get outta here!”

Clones yelled at the other in dark armor while I blinked back tears threatening from the pain. Now wasn’t the time. Jayas and Fathal had abandoned the bar and were running over to check on me. Lyn watched from across the bar, serving tray clutched against her chest as she gasped. A swarm of angry clones pushed the one in dark armor back till he was trapped against the dartboards, the fight in his eyes undeterred by the numbers growing against him. Blood trailed down his busted lip. Before the one v one could turn into a one v bar, I brought my fingers to my lips and whistled. All eyes landed on me.

“You.” I turned to the clone I had fallen into–he hadn’t moved. His face was pulled into confusion and worry. Though he had sobered up considerably compared to when I jumped into the fight, he was slow to turn his attention back on me. Then, I turned to the sea blocking my path to the other clone. It parted without any orders from me and revealed him. Our eyes met and, even in the dim light, I could see he wasn't like other clones. “You. With me.”

No one, clone, patron, or employee alike stood in my path as I escorted the pair behind me to one of the few private places in the bar–the office. A tiny room that fit two chairs and one square desk, tucked back into a nook made by all the filing cabinets and boxes lining the walls. Bright yellow light hurt my eyes as we stepped inside. Once the door closed behind us, I turned to face the clones. Now that I could properly see them, their injuries were on full display.

So were their differences.

“Take a seat.” I gestured towards the chairs in the tight room. One sat normally. The other spun the chair around and sat facing its back.

I found myself questioning if the man in black (and red) armor was even a clone. He was skinnier and, even though he was sitting, taller than the other clone. At first glance I thought his silver hair was dyed, but then I noticed peach fuzz growing along his jaw–also silver. And then his face–long and sharp thanks to the gaunt look his cheekbones gave him. No one would think this was a clone if they didn’t know better. But I’d seen hundreds of clones. He shared the same deep brown eyes that I’ve looked into hundreds of times before. Maybe there was no other clone like him, but he was a clone.

And a tough one too. My gaze flicked to the trail of dried blood that ran down a busted lip to his chin. I also noticed purple slowly crawling from his left cheek. He’d come back up swinging despite the hits that landed.

Then I turned to the other clone. His armor was decorated in red stripes, the sign of a clone assigned to the Coruscant Guard. Great. Another reason for Commander Fox to hate my establishment. Unlike the silver haired clone, he was much more typical. He had cropped dark hair, brown eyes, and a full face–albeit made swollen by what would be a black eye given time. Otherwise, the only unique feature to him was a large tattoo that snaked around his neck and climbed up his jawbone. I recognized him from a few other visits, all without incident before.

Pain spiked behind my thoughts. The only barrier keeping it from consuming me was the need to sort everything out before I could retreat upstairs to slap bacta onto my shoulder. Somehow. I’d figure out the logistics later. For now, my attention was on the troublemakers.

“What’s your name?” I asked the clone in red stripes.

His brows pulled together and his eyes darted around the small room. Panic ran through his face, though he still answered me. “CT-823-”

“No,” I cut him off. Trooper numbers were for reports and people who wanted to make clones feel lesser. I wasn’t the latter, and I hadn’t yet decided on the former. “Your name.” Between the effort of submitting an official report to the GAR, Commander Fox’s pre-established distaste for anywhere that let clones get a little too “loose,” and knowledge I needed to treat my shoulder, the chances I’d bother were low. The tipping vote depended on what all of this was about.

“Binder, ma’am.”

“Binder, what happened?”

He glanced up to me, then at the other clone.

To his credit, the other clone kept his mouth shut. Not that, I suspected, he needed to use his mouth to say much. His arms draped over the back of the chair and his legs spread out wide to support his posture–rather casual for someone who could get into trouble with his superiors. He kept a Sabacc face, betrayed only by the toothpick that wouldn’t keep still between his lips. (Where did he get a toothpick?)

“He was cheating at darts.” Binder muttered.

I got punched. Over a game of darts? “That’s it?”

Binder shot out of his seat, hearing the disapproval in my words. He pointed at the other clone. “He was! No one can beat my score!”

“I did.” The silver haired clone interjected.

Even his voice was different, more gravel and less pavement.

The taller clone straightened his back, looking up to meet Binder’s flushed face with a shit-eating grin he knowingly used as bait for another fight. Before Binder could take it, I stepped between the pair once again. After swearing under his breath, Binder returned to his seat. The other clone gave me a smirk. I didn’t reciprocate.

It was a clear holo of what led to the night’s events, in the flesh. “So you beat Binder at darts,” The clone kept his lazy grin. “Flaunted more than you ought to, and got punched for it?” His lips dropped, slightly less pleased with himself when I laid it out like that.

“More or less…”

Stars, his voice instantly captivated me. The universe was cruel to drop this man in my lap this way. What would that voice sound like in my ear while he had me pushed against the wall? Would he grunt? Moan? Growl? I took a deep breath.

“How many drinks tonight?” I asked Binder.

Begrudgingly, Binder answered. “Four.” Then he added, “Thermals.”

Four Thermal Detonators. No wonder his temper got the best of him. “Alright, here’s what I’ll do.” I turned around and rummaged through the cabinets with minor difficulty. “I’ll chalk tonight up to more beer than you can handle,” I glanced back at Binder long enough to ensure he knew I was talking about him. Then, I rooted through a collection of various computer parts and some wayward screws until I found what I was looking for. “And someone who doesn't know the rules of my bar.” With the prize in hand I turned back around and looked at the clone in question. Both men met me with confused expressions, one big and curious and the other tight and suspicious.

“Take this before you sleep tonight,” With my left hand, I threw a tiny vial at Binder. He caught it against his chest. “It’ll help you metabolize the alcohol.” A spike of pain in my right arm demanded attention, so I rushed to wrap up. “Hangover prevention, if you will.”

Binder studied the clear liquid within the vial carefully before glancing back up at me. “I’m not going to report either of you.” The clones didn’t move. “You’re free to go.” I gestured to the door with my left hand, acutely aware of the pain surrounding my right.

Binder left first, and it was then I realized I never asked the other clone his name. Pain was gnawing at my thoughts, but I had to ask. “Wait.” I rounded the doorframe in time to see the mystery clone walking down the long hall to the back exit. Binder was already gone. “What’s your name?”

He stopped. I watched as he pulled something out of his mouth–the toothpick–and held it between his fingers like a death stick. “You said so yourself. You aren’t reporting this. I don’t need to tell you my name.” Faux-death stick returned to his lips.

“No, but I’m still asking.”

We stood there. Strides apart. With me leaning against the doorframe of my office trying to ignore the heartbeat caught in my collarbone and him with slack shoulders and a downturned head. The longer the silence went on the harder it was to ignore the pain.

“Why?” He broke the spell and turned around, facing me with narrowed eyes.

A feeble smile spread across my lips. “I’d at least like to know the name of the man who broke my shoulder.”

His jaw clenched and I regretted my teasing. His eyes fell to my shoulder. “You think it’s broken?”

“I think you’ve got one hell of a punch.” My lips curved into a smirk. Pain burst like a hot flame all around my shoulder, up my neck, and down my arm, causing my expression to falter. I took a step off the wall, then two, then four. When I reached him his gaze dropped behind me.

“I wasn’t aiming at you.”

“Trust me, I know.” I looked up into his eyes and realized I’d missed something. Thin black lines made a reticle around his right eye. I had gotten so lost in his differences with other clones, I didn’t even see the difference he chose. Half of a laugh escaped my lips. “You’re lucky I’ve got quick reflexes, or I might need more than a little bacta to fix this up.” I dipped my head towards the door that led to the stairwell just behind him. He followed my gaze. “Which, if you don’t mind,” I moved past him towards the door. “I’ve put off long enough.”

With a hiss, the automatic door opened and I entered the stairwell. Metal echoed up the high ceiling as I climbed up the steps. It was quiet. So my thoughts were loud.

You felt the force again. I felt the force again. You are a Jedi and yet you hide your power and strength. I’m no Jedi, I’m not powerful, I have no strength. You let him go and now he’ll never come back. I’ll never know his name.

I gripped the railing, feeling a wave of nausea threaten in my throat. My breath turned rapid and the stairs before me started to shake. Just as I thought my grip would slip, I heard the doors open again. Quickly, I straightened up and turned to see Jayas. Except, that wasn’t Jayas.

Instead, there stood the clone with silver hair and a reticle tattoo.

“Hey.” He looked up to me. “You need any help?”

Every inch of my body felt like a live wire. Finding my voice took a moment. “Depends.” I managed. One silver brow raised in question at my answer. “You gonna tell me your name?”

A slight smirk pulled his lips up. He nodded his head once before climbing the stairs to reach my height. Once he was one step below me, he leaned in just enough to make my buzzing heart flutter. “Crosshair.”

I swallowed. “Nice to meet you, Crosshair. My name’s Anya.”

Dividers by Djarrex

#The Red Logs - Related Stories #Delayed Fate - A Story From The Red Logs #star wars fanfic #star wars the clone wars fanfic #sw tcw fanfic #star wars the prequels fanfic #sw prequels fanfic #the bad batch fanfic #star wars the bad batch fanfic #tbb fanfic #crosshair/oc (anya tougt)#crosshair/anya tougt #first meeting fic #first kiss fic #first time fic

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oftincturedwords · 1 year

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Title: Ties Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: Star Wars : The Bad Batch Rating: T+ Chapter Warnings: ¡Spoilers! Crying , Grief/Mourning , Implied Canon Character Death , Angst , Nightmares , Explicit Nightmares , etc. Characters: Crosshair & Omega Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort , Brother - Sister Dynamics , Holding Hands , Crying , etc. Timeline: Based off of Star Wars : The Bad Batch series three trailer ; scene with Crosshair & Omega in cells beside each other Pairings: Gen. None. Word Count: 3034 Overall Summary: Crosshair doesn't allow his gaze to drift towards the cell next to his, the open slates between them allowed him some view of the entrance and within the cell the kid usually occupied. It was too great risk for familiarly to be used as leverage against them. But he can't remain distant when he knows something is wrong. Chapter Summary: Crosshair wakes in the middle of the night to hear Omega crying. He tries his best to help. A/N: These ideas just sprang to my head once I heard of the scene between Omega & Crosshair in the Star Wars Celebration trailer , thus add my apparent enjoyment of causing turmoil for my favourite characters , I couldn't help but write this ficlet up. I wrote it & the next chapter ( which will be posted in a few day ) up in a single night because of the inspiration so here's to hope it's coherent & in-character as I think it is ! Thus consider this a small collection of interconnecting one - shots of Crosshair & Omega whilst they are held on Tantiss. If more ideas come to mind , the chapter count will go up & the tags will be updated. I have no beta this all mistakes are mine. Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Star War : The Clone Wars & Star Wars : The Bad Batch. Neither am I associated with Lucasfilms , Disney+ , nor any of the actors who portray these characters. I make no money off any of my stories , this is purely for entertainment purposes. Read On : ao3 | under the cut

Wakefulness came instantaneously to Crosshair. Much like the times when on a mission he would be woken to take his turn of the watch, a near silent whisper of his name from one of his brothers and he was roused enough to fight if it had been needed. The instincts and habits born during combat, or from combat training, hadn't lessened any in the countless weeks he had spent as a prisoner. For his eyes were open and mind alert before he knew exactly what had woken him.

Drawn from the depths of sleep by the softest of out-of-place noise. A breathy, hiccuping sound that was familiar in the sense he had heard it before. Although the memory of it was distant, it had happened years ago in what seemed like another life, and any recollection was immediately dismissed when it registered that the stifled crying was coming from the kid’s cell.

Tensing at that realisation, Crosshair listened a moment more to the muffled sniffles and shallowly exhaled sobs from the cell directly next to his. They were quiet in a way that was deliberate and purposefully, yet desolate and grieved sounding to the point, he knew there was nothing the kid could have done to stop crying altogether. They were the tears of the emotional wrought, which never heeded logic nor yielded to restraint or threats, they wouldn't stop until they were spent.

Normally, Crosshair would have left the kid alone. He knew he wasn't good with words of comfort at the best of times and the barrier separating their cells, despite the slats that were vented through the durasteel and allowed them to see into each other’s room, it still physically barred any actions of comfort he could offer. Not that they had much to offer in way of amenities anyway, but he could have at least added his blanket to hers or sat beside her until her tears ran dry as he had done before for his brothers.

However, he wasn't sure if it would even work for her if he had been able to do that.

But after what had happened only a handful of days ago, Crosshair wasn't going to leave anything to chance with the kid if he could help it. Just because he thought he knew why she was crying didn't mean he could be wrong, he had been intimately shown that he could and had repeatedly been wrong before. Thus he, quickly yet equally as quiet, turned on his cot until he was laying on his belly and could look towards the apertures between their cells.

The lighting was dimmed to the point of blackness, aside from the red glow the shielding of their cell entrances gave off, but Crosshair had zero issue with seeing that the kid was sitting up on the bunk. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and she had her head buried into her folded arms, all but consumed by the sole blanket they had all been issued that she had lain and tucked over herself.

He could visibly see the blanket shift with every hitch of her breaths and jolt of her small frame. The greyed fabric quavered with the strength of her trembling in-between every jarring sob she fought to restrain and quiet.

“Kid.” Crosshair called out in a whisper, which caused an instant cessation of the repressed sobbing and a stillness to overcome the kid as if his voice had physically froze her on the spot.

Seeing such a reaction had Crosshair’s lips twisting moreso into a frown. The response had been a fearful one, instinctive to the point it was nearly innate. Although, he wasn’t surprised at it given how Kamino raised its clones and their current situation as captives to scientists of even less compassion than those who bred them to begin with. It felt wrong to see, and sparked at that bitterly simmering anger that always burnt within his chest.

“Crosshair?” Came her choked whisper, thick with tears and broken between the syllables of his name, as if she had spoken in the middle of a sob, whilst she tilted her head up a fraction to see over her arms and from under the blanket she had draped over her head.

“What is it?” He asked in way of an answer, his voice a sibilant murmur.

His words again had an instant effect upon her. And he could only watch as she swallowed back another sob, a pair of crystalline tears falling from her reddened eyes and slipping in twin rivulets down her already damp cheeks before she shut her eyes tightly and shook her head in the negative repeatedly. Dropping it back into her arms whilst her whole body shuddered, he heard her give a gasping breath that was only muffled by how vehemently she was pressing herself against her mouth to silence the noise.

The split second all that had taken to occur had sent a lancing of panic through Crosshair’s chest. His mind involuntarily conjured up the images of days prior and brought forth the very same helpless terror he had felt then, thus he’s shoving down his blanket without caring where he lay and throwing his legs over the side of the bunk to get up in the next instant.

Soundlessly crossing the short expanse of the room in hardly the time it would take to breathe his next breath, Crosshair came up to the adjoining wall of their cells that held a small space between it and the end of his bunk that he could crouched down by yet still see through the lower ends of the open slats on the wall. It was less conspicuous to any passing guards if they happened to walk by or check the cameras since it would afford him the sparse few seconds to return to his bunk or appear to be anything other than talking with the kid.

He moved automatically, an ingrained habit to conceal and hide that hadn't left his muscle memory from the years he’d spent in the main barracks on Kamino before he and his brothers had been given their own privately shared quarters. Yet if something were dangerously wrong with the kid, his secrecy wound proved unneeded for he would ensure the guards brought medical up and to her if she needed it. After last time, he doubted he would have to make much of a racket to get them to obey.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his harsh whisper laced with a steeliness that sharpened his tone, the underlying of heightened concern was buried beneath its acerbity.

The only answer he received were the chocked sounds of her muffled weeping.

“Omega.” He called, an urgency within the sole whisper of her name that held every ounce of worry and tension he was feeling.

“‘M not hurt,” She finally answered after a stretched handful of moments, her words a tad garbled by her tears but understandable enough, “Or sick. Just, just had a nightmare.”

Crosshair felt himself practically wilt against the wall before him, a relief it wasn't anything more serious and potentially life threatening washed over him with an immediacy that left him feeling shaky. But he simply breathed out the stress of the last several minutes in a muted exhale, willing his mind away from the images his memories held of a few days ago.

Pausing only a moment to contemplate her words further, nothing physical was wrong, but it didn't make her distress any less. It'd been a few years since Crosshair had helped any of his brothers with nightmares of this extent. Since leaving Kamino they had all dealt with them differently than they had as cadets, never alone still, unless any of them professed the want to be alone after them.

But it was more of waking them if they couldn't on their own, then offering a sip-pack of filtered water and sitting nearby until the haunting images faded enough for them to return to sleep. If sleeping again wasn't an option, then staying up till the terror or ill feelings weren't so pressing. Or so Crosshair had always done. He wasn't one for many words, nor comfortingly eloquent, and so he didn't offer much assurances that way. Actions usually spoke louder than words anyway.

Thus Crosshair simply turned around from where he knelt and shifted so he could sit down, cross legged with his back against the thin openings between their cells.

Leaning his head back against them, he quietly turned to sit on the durasteel flooring. It's coldness seeping through the fabric of his trousers to chill the flesh along his legs and arse, but it was negligible and not an unfamiliar sensation since he had camped out on the deck beside bunks and berths multiple times throughout his eleven years of life. Slept even on worse surfaces.

He couldn't be there next to her, but he could still sit with her as close as he their physical confines allowed him to. Attempting to offer her the silent comfort he had afforded his brothers numerous times before; the voiceless succour he’d provided hunter whenever he had migraines so painful he was entirely incapacitated yet couldn't be left alone, the same quiet amity he lent tech whenever his brother would narrate the process of a complicated project whilst he verbally worked through the issue, the soundless presence he had given the reg whenever he sat with him on his bunk during sleepless nights.

With Wrecker it had been less about crosshair offering a silent support and more about rising to meet his older brother’s energy, engaging in and initiating contests and games that they routinely fought for place as victor. It was usually Wrecker who worked to be the calm and steady company whenever Crosshair had needed it.

He wasn't certain what would best work with the kid. His options were limited as is, he knew, especially given there were eyes upon them more often than not, but perhaps this would grant a modicum of solace? If anything he would remain awake alongside her, she wouldn't be alone.

A modified silence reigned around them. No noise except for the distant humming of the buildings’ systems, the air vents cycling and the low humming that always came from the multiple glowing shields that held them all within their prisons. Only accompanied by the smothered hiccuping sobs and wet snuffling that came from the kid as she continued to quietly cry.

“I dreamt of that day on Eriadu,” He heard her speak up suddenly after several minutes had passed, explaining the reason for her upset in a subdued voice, softly heaving a stuttered breath thereafter, “The, the day that Tech...”

Crosshair stiffened at hearing her admission, startled by the onslaught of heartache hearing his little brother’s name had shot through his core. Eyes closing on their own accord, he strove to keep his own breathing even. Measured and counted.

He had been informed of what happened by Hemlock. The kriffing bastard had brandished the remains of Tech’s shattered helmet to him as if it were a trophy meant to be shown off and smiled at with revenance.

Later when he had been returned to his own cell and saw the kid was in hers, looking worriedly over at him, he had whirled on her once the guards had left them alone. Not shouting nor anywhere near loud, but demanded he did. Low and severe, he relaid what Hemlock told him to her and pressed to know if it was true. Yet he hadn't needed any verbal confirmation from her since the expression on her face and the welling of tears in her eyes had told him everything.

Shuddering, Crosshair drew a slow breath against the icy-grip of grief that reached out from his heart to clamp vice-like around his chest, intertwining its talons between each and every rib. It strove to stutter his next inhale and constrict the rest to nothing.

The ire he had initially felt when he had found out had tapered, he couldn't remain angry long enough to stave off the tide of grief anymore these last several days. Extinguished by a resurgence of memories, likely brought up by exhaustion and grief, from their years as cadets and from their graduation onwards to an elite squad in the GAR.

Stupid moments during the dull moments of missions or in-between assignments, idle chatter of conversations he hadn't remembered until now to petty arguments that felt all the more trivial to shared silences of companionship and solidarity.

Recollections of smiling, and outright laughing a few rare times, with his brothers. Of games and tears and jokes and the grittiest of missions where they barely made it out by the skin of their teeth. Memories of every sort, good and bad, had coalesced and come to the forefront of his mind unbidden. Each one worked to erode at his anger and the bitterness he had felt, it all felt frivolous and inane now. Regret had seeped in heavier than ever before, mingling with guilt and his grief to the degree he felt ill with it.

Learning of his brother’s death in an attempt to rescue him and then seeing the kid had been captured only to have her confirm his warning had been received just not followed had twisted something deep inside Crosshair. He had clung to the rage at their continued distrust of him, that they wouldn't even listen to his wanting, and had been snuffed out almost immediately.

For their squad had never been one to follow orders or adhere to any strict rules, anything ‘by the book’ was a joke they all smirked at. He shouldn't have expected anything less, even if the kid was involved. she was off the same stock after all, and living with those four for so long had to have had an influence.

Maker knows Wrecker, Tech, and the reg. held no impulse control if Hunter wasn't actively present. Thus he doubted the kid was any different.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was closer now, directly at his back, so lost to his reminiscence he hadn't heard her get up nor walk over towards where he sat, “I know you’re mourning him too. That's why I didn't want to say anything.”

Her words felt more akin to a hit to the solar plexus than the expression of sympathy that they were. And again he had to work to steady his breathing lest he lose any control over the amount of oxygen he drew in, shoving back against the pressure welling within his own chest.

Focussing instead on the faint sounds from her side of the slatted wall, hearing the soft shuffling of the kid’s clothes along with the dull thumps of her sitting down behind him. The faint warmth he could feel from her back through the slits in the wall told him she had mirrored his posture.

“But I miss them so much.” She said after a breadth of silence between them, nearer a broken whimper that continued through the wobbliness of tears to whisper, “And I want to go home, but when we get out of here and see Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo again, Tech won't— No rescue plan or any amount of credits can bring him back to us.”

Clenching his eyes closed at hearing her words, spoken so plainly and bereaved yet still she held out hope for rescue based upon her use of ‘when’ rather than ‘if’, and she remained adamant in her wish to have him return with her it seemed since she only ever referred to them instead of just herself when it came to escaping or being rescued. ‘We’ never ‘me’ or ‘I’ when she spoke of it. Believing in it so heartedly she didn't seem aware she had used such verbiage.

It brought forth another form of sadness to Crosshair's chest, the grief over knowing Tech was gone nestled beside the misery of knowing her hopes would not be met.

Omega held such belief in their brothers and in everything turning out with them reunited, even if it wasn't better or all right, that they would all see each other again. But Tech had already lost his life in an effort to rescue just him, thus locating this place and infiltrating it was a challenge unlike any they had encountered before. Too many variables to calculate against and the highest of secrecy about this place, along with the Empire’s sheer numbers and degree of control. Add to the fact, Hemlock held a sadistic ambition when it came to his experiments…

It was unlikely they would be found before something worse happened. If they could be located at all, there was an even less chance of everyone surviving that rescue attempt. In one piece or at all. There was little accuracy in her hopes, but Crosshair supposed that was why they were called hopes. They weren't actuality nor truths, simply wishes that were based upon a small shard of reality. And after everything that had been taken from her, he couldn't take that from her. Not yet, not now.

Venting a muted sigh, Crosshair bowed his head and moved a hand of his to reach back beside him through the lower end of the opening between their cells. Although his hands were lithe, he could only reach through to the knuckles nearest his palm before the edges of the slat stopped him, but it was enough for him to brush the fabric of her sleeve.

Pinching the material awkwardly between his pointer and middle finger, he tugged it gently twice to gain her attention towards his hand. Hearing her shift behind him, he released her shirtsleeve to splay out his finger slightly in a deliberate motion. Only a second's pause came from her before a quiet sniffle met the air and he felt her small hand encircle his fingers. And he curled his fingers a slight to ensure she felt his attempt to hold her hand back.

A/N: :))) I have made myself sad now… but another chapter to come , so see you soon with more feels <3 The next chapter will detail what Crosshair references in this chapter about what happened to Omega those days prior.

#bayze's writing #my writing #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #swtbb #star wars the bad batch fanfiction #star wars the bad batch fanfic #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch fanfic #swtbb fanfiction #swtbb fanfic #tbb fanfic #tbb fanfiction #crosshair #omega tbb

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starwarstbbfan · 1 year

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I was messing around with an incorrect quotes generator and found something fun, so, how accurate is this?

Jace: Be the bigger person

Calli: What? No I'm short and bitter. You be the bigger person.

Omg, 100% accurate!!!!!! My two adorable awkward teens! I love them so much! 😭😍🤧

#star wars #star wars bad batch #star wars tbb #star wars clone wars #star wars the bad batch fanfic #tbb fanfiction #calli tbb #callistafett #calli and jace

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blade-liger-4ever · 2 years

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I got my AO3 account, people!!

I’m gonna need a bit more time with setting up the chapters, but at least I’m ready to go and post whenever I can!!!

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clonesuperiority · 30 days

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I really only wanted to show my Clone OC's Tattoos, buuut who was ever hurt by shirtless Wolffe, Rex, Cody and Jesse? 👀

I'd kind of love to draw some fanarts of canon Clones ... Which ones would you like to see?

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freesia-writes · 1 year

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#the bad batch #tbb #star wars the bad batch #star wars tbb #bad batch #tbb fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #tbb tech #the bad batch tech #tech #clone force 99 #tbb fanfic #the bad batch speculation

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trashy1turtle · 11 months

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Yeah, I'm fine

*Types "«character name> x reader" into tumblr search bar*

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lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom · 2 months

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Could you do one where the reader had been in a relationship with Hunter before being taken with Omega on Tantiss. Now that they're reunited, Hunter realizes that he wants to marry the reader?

With a little bit of Wrecker and Crosshair friendly teasing Hunter.

Marry Me?

Hunter x Reader

Summary- After an insufferable separation from you, Hunter realizes his true feelings. That he never wants to be apart from you- that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

Part two right here!

A/N- SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3 OF THE BAD BATCH!!!! You have been warned! Thank you so much for requesting babes! Hope you like it! <3 <3

Word Count- 1,755

Beautiful Screen Shot by @isthereanechoinhere96

"Omega... It's- It's been months. We don't even know if they're still aliv-"

You felt shame rise up in your chest when you agreed with Crosshair. He was right, time had gone by slowly and there was no way of knowing if Hunter and Wrecker were alive. Your sweet sweet Hunter. The man who only showed he heart for the people he deeply loved. You were lucky to be one of them.

"They'll be there." Omega stated. She was so sure... but all you could think about were the doubts. Omega was always able to be more trusting and optimistic than you. Constant fear of losing your family limited you severely.

You swallowed deeply and looked down to Omega, pushing your anxieties down. "They will be." Were you trying to convince Crosshair or yourself?

The next few minutes of hyper-space felt like days. You were so eager. Everything was either going to get a million times worse, or a million times better.

Omega guided the ship to a remote planet you had never heard of, a deep blue over taking you.

Picking at your nails nervously, you stood- ready to depart. Crosshair noticed this and eyed you. He was nervous as well, but for different reasons.

You almost sobbed when you saw the Marauder in the distance. Hope bubbled in your chest, all thoughts of doubt escaped you.

The second the door lowered with a steam, Omega ran out of the ship. You followed her quickly behind.

She stopped at the mid-point between the ships. Wrecker slowly exited the Marauder, "Now there's a sight!"

You laughed, the tension dissipated. Omega ran to him and Wrecker picked her up, spinning around. "Wrecker!" She responded.

The sight made tears of joy fall. To see Omega so happy was enough for you.

"And I wasn't even sure your message was real!" Wrecker half-joked, still holding Omega up.

"Wrecker, I knew you'd show up!" Her words made your ears ring, did Hunter show up? Well, of course he did! That would be dumb for him to leave Wrecker... Unless, unless he wasn't alive to leave.

Your brain ran wild, why hadn't Hunter come out yet? It was almost as if Wrecker read your mind, he rested a hand on your shoulder after lowering Omega.

Just then, another set of footsteps came out. Hunter skipped steps to get to you and Omega.

Your hands shot up to cover your gasp, tears falling fast now. Omega got to Hunter first- you knew she needed it more.

He crouched down and hugged Omega deeply, his words drowned out. What you did make out was him saying your name, an arm stretched out for you and an arm holding Omega tightly.

You met him as fast as your feet would let you. "Hunter..." You whispered, face immediately meeting his neck as he pulled you close.

His arm pulled you in, crushing you against him in a pleasant way.

He pulled back to pepper your face with kisses, then a deep one on the lips. A few of your tears dripped onto his face, mixing with his own.

Omega giggled and pulled on your arm, you pulled back to let her back in on the hug. All three of you were lifted when Wreckers arms grasped around the bunch of you.

Wrecker pulled everyone up, making the embrace tighter. It was like your perfect little family was back again.

That night, after abandoning the empire's ship, was filled with more hugs, catching up, tears, and awkward conversations with Crosshair. You couldn't have wished for anything better. Your family, all in one place. Save for Echo, but you learnt he was safe with Rex- that made you smile.

You helped Omega settle into her room. You noticed too many yawns and drifting off, she was worn out emotionally and physically.

You spoke with her softly, reminding her everyone would still be here in the morning. Picking up Lula, her doll, and tucking it under her arm gave out the last yawn.

"Can I talk to Hunter?" She questioned with big eyes.

"Of course, baby. I'll be right back" You pet her hair back and left to go retrieve him.

You stopped when you saw him, Crosshair, and Wrecker whispering in the cock-pit.

"Ahaha! Be a man, just ask!" Wrecker said as he patted Hunters back harshly. Ask who? What would he have to 'be a man' about?

"If you say it any louder he won't have to..." Crosshair remarked.

"Oh! Sooorry." Wrecker dragged out.

"Both of you hush, I'll do it when I feel the time is right." Hunter spoke, his husky voice immediately filling you with warmth.

"You got this!" Wrecker exclaimed again, this time he earned a "Shhh!" from both Hunter and Crosshair.

You slowly entered the cock-pit, this time making your appearance known.

"Oh! Hello!" Wrecker greeted loudly, signalling to Hunter you were in the room. Hunter just sighed and shook his head.

You were curious about the conversation, but thought it might not be any of your business.

Smiling, you started, "Omega wants you to finish putting her to bed, Hunter." The way his face lit up had you star-struck. Almost like he couldn't believe she wanted him. "Thank you."

He nodded and headed her way, a hand cupping and maneuvering around your waist as he passed you. His subtle but frequent small touches warmed your heart.

You took a seat in the co-pilot chair, swiveling to look at Crosshair and Wrecker. Both looked down at you with crossed arms and smug looks.

"What?" You wondered if there was something on your face, or if you just took someones spot.

"Nooothing, we will be heading off to sleep now. RIGHT Crosshair?" Wrecker spoke in a suspicious voice, elbowing him in the side. Crosshiar grunted but agreed, leaving you alone.

Weird.

But then again, nothing was normal on this ship.

You took this time to lean back and take a few minutes of rest alone. It was nice being able to relax by yourself, knowing everyone was safe.

After a handful of minutes, Hunter made his way back from Omega. He took the seat next to yours, turning to face you.

"How are you doing?" You asked, sparking conversation.

"Fine, I'm just happy you guys are here... I keep thinking i'm going to blink and you'll both be gone..." His words shook at the end. You sat up, understanding the seriousness of the conversation.

"Hunter, Omega and I are alive and safe. We are here and we are not going anywhere." You rose and stood between his legs, hands cupping his face.

He looked up at you, tears filling his eyes slowly.

"What if I can't protect you two again?" He brought up a hand to rest at your hip, the other on his leg.

You rested your forehead against his, "That was a freak accident, baby. No one could have stopped that. Now we have Crosshair, Batcher, and we are ready for anything. We will keep Omega from the Empire. I promise."

He took a deep breath in, like he had just decided something.

He started by saying your name, "You always know just what to say. I wish I had that ability..." He closed his eyes and breathed you in for a moment, then he spoke again. "When... When we were apart I was so lost."

"I kno-"

"No, I don't think you understand. I couldn't think of anything but you and Omega. I was so broken without you." He repeated your name.

"I-I never want you to be away from me again." His voice got huskier as he spoke, and your legs felt like jello. You just looked at him deeply, nodding.

He started for a second time with a shaky breath, "No one can take you from me again. I will claw my way back to you every damn time." He nods his head up, brushing his nose to the side of your cheek with closed eyes.

You let him speak, even when your mind was flowing with your own comments, "It- The distance, made me realize. There is no one that can compare to you. No other woman I would ever want to be with."

Ah, so that is what they were talking about. You smiled big, awaiting the special phrase.

Tears filled your eyes with his words, he was speaking as raw as he was capable of.

"I can't promise you money or luxury, but I will spend every waking hour fighting to make you happy. Fighting to keep you safe." He pulls back, steadying you with both hands on your hips.

You take in a teary breath to speak, but he cuts you off. "Don't say anything yet, just- Wait here, just a second." He stands, reaching to Crosshair's old storage compartment.

He rushes back with a small box. You raise your hands to cup your own face, bright red. He lowered onto one knee, right in the middle of the cock-pit

"Please, for my own sanity and happiness, will you marry me?" He asks.

"Yes. Yes Hunter, there are no other words than yes." You fall down onto him, arms grasping around his neck.

He lets out a sigh of relief like you'd ever say 'no.'

"Thank you, oh thank you." He whispers into your neck, holding you tight. He only pulls back slightly to kiss you. A kiss so deep and full of emotions your head spun. You just held him, never wanting to let go.

It felt like time stopped, just for you two. Just for a clone trooper and a small girl...

"I never planned on you..." He broke the silence, head placed on top of yours. "But I- you were so damn perfect. Too perfect." You gave a small laugh, looking up to see his handsome face.

You rested a hand on his tattoo, thumbing it. "Hunter, if anyone is perfect it's you. You have so much love for me and Omega... How do you do it?"

"I manage." He smirked, leaning down to smell your hair. Something he used to do frequently when you snuggled in the past.

"Am I now Mrs. Hunter? Or is it Mrs. Trooper?" You joked, pulling back to sit fully on the ship floor. Your hands still filled with his much larger ones.

He smiled at you, another reminder on why he loved you so much. "We can figure out all the fine details later... Just let me kiss you again..."

So, you did.

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! I loved writing this one, I hope it turned out as good as I thought! Sorry It took me longer to post than usual, I was pretty busy this past week. As always, i'm open to constructive criticism!

Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

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vivaislenska · 7 months

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Tech DOES NOT Mess Around with Cybersecurity [excerpt from a longer, TBB mission fic]

Republic specialists at Cyber Ops Squad try to spy on the Boys of the Havoc Marauder. They get their asses handed to them (in a sparkly gift bag).

Basis: A snippet from Chap. 15 of long-form TBB fic called ‘Success Rate’ that can be found here. These two regs just helped Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker rescue Tech and Echo from a brutal ordeal in captivity. How'd these mysterious regs meet Tech before all of it went down? Hunter and Crosshair find out… and sympathize.

Length: 3,100 words

CW: swearing and mentions of adult themes

An hour or so goes by, and Hunter and Crosshair are still up in Serpent Squad's shop, swapping stories with Easy and Slowpoke. By now, several more of Easy's guys have wandered over to meet the two Bad Batch commandos and revisit some of the epic tales that are being told. There are still a few guys at their various watch stations, but the ones who’ve been relieved seem to be forgoing their racks and personal time to join in on the fun.

"So lemme get this straight," Hunter says to his and Crosshair's new mates: the OIC and AOIC of a highly secretive, highly reserved, gang of radar operators and crypto specialists. "You two were both ARC Troopers when you deployed to Geonosis, but you got hurt and now you're both cryptos. And you met Tech... when you were doing deep dives into encrypted networks?"

"I know it sounds mental," Easy affirms. "But it's the damn truth. Cadet's honor."

"Well,” Hunter says, first and foremost, “I’m sorry you boys got hurt.”

"Thanks, vod. Yeah, we were sorry too when they yanked our ARC designations," Easy says. "Not sorry right away, though. What happened was me and Slopes were caught in a bad blast during the final push. But it was all the typical injuries you know? We still finished the job and all."

"It was only later we learned we'd both sustained some pretty serious TBIs," Slowpoke adds. "When we tried to go back to duty after everything on the outside had healed, we were having a lot of trouble."

"Still do," Easy continues. "Slopes has these violent seizures now and then. It's really hard on him. And me, I get some nasty vertigo pretty often. Can't tell which way's up or down... it's madness! Also—not that my mind was a durasteel trap before—but my short-term memory’s just garbage now."

"The first time vertigo happened to him, we were in formation," shares Slowpoke as he takes a careful sip from his beer. "All of a sudden, he keels over and starts hugging the deck like the ship was going belly-up. Our CO was furious because he thought Easy was takin' the piss. I mean... we all did. But when he looked up at me, green as Endor moss, I knew something was horribly wrong."

"Yup. Then, not long after, Slopes kept getting 'the shakes' more often, and it became clear that both of us were still affected by whatever that blast did to our brains,” Easy adds, amiably. “Our CO transferred us to medical for eval and treatment, but the long-necks never could cure us. They put us on meds, and the meds do help, but we'll always have symptoms. They wanted to decommission us."

"How'd you dodge it?" asks Crosshair.

"Yeah," Hunter says, also craving to know how a medical decision made by one or more Kaminoans was thwarted. "The long-necks are heartless and stubborn when they deem a vod can't perform as promised."

"Kenobi," Easy says simply. "He heard we were being decommed, then he made other plans for us before the Kaminoans followed through."

"He said he 'negotiated' our 'lateral transfer,'" Slowpoke adds. "But really, we think he pulled us out of there and somehow hid us in Skywalker's inventory. We think he assigned us to crypto because there's not a whole lot of people who even have the clearance to look at our muster sheet."

"That and crypto at a top-tier command is probably the last place the Kaminoans would expect two infirm, unsound, adrenaline-addicted ex-ARCs to wind up," says Easy, grinning around the growing circle of brothers. "But here we are!"

"Here we are," Slowpoke agrees.

"And it’s a pretty good gig too, eh, fellas?" Easy says, turning his head to include everyone within earshot.

There's an excited murmur of assent from around the room.

"We do miss working directly for Kenobi, though," says Easy, sounding a little forlorn. "But he kept us close enough by stashing us with Skywalker's crew. We still see him every now and then. Plus, they're so close that if you're working with one, you're pretty much directly working with the other too."

"I can see that," Hunter tells the group, thinking about all the times he's seen the two men joined at the hip both in battle and in banter.

"Works for us," says Slowpoke. "Plus, we figure the best way to show Kenobi our gratitude is to look after Skywalker."

"Yeah. Just not in the same way we used to on the ground," says Easy. "But with crypto and espionage and slicing instead. Digging up intel and cyber-sneaking around enemy databases and frequencies."

"You're good at what you do," Hunter reminds them, thinking about how instrumental Serpent squad was in helping the Batch retrieve Tech and Echo. "Can't see how anyone could stay off your radar. Or how they could keep intel hidden from you if it's something you guys really want."

Easy and Slowpoke share a wry grin and a few mutters and sniggers break out around the room. Vexed by Serpent squad's communal reaction, Hunter and Crosshair glance around curiously, feeling very much on the outside of an inside joke.

"We're not laughing at you," Easy tells them sincerely. "Promise. We're laughing because it's so damn ironic you would say that."

"Oh... yeah?" Hunter says, still unsure. "Why's that?"

"Bet I know why," drawls Crosshair, revelation dawning on his sharp features.

"Why then?" Hunter asks him.

"They tried their little tricks on Tech," mutters Crosshair pensively. Then turning to Easy and Slowpoke. "Didn't you? And he knew it."

"At the heart of it," Slowpoke says, "that's exactly why.

"We weren't 'trying our tricks' on Tech, specifically," Easy clarifies. "We were doing a routine breaching exercise and Havoc Marauder was just one of the ships on our scopes. We didn't know anything about her but her name and designation, so we wanted to give it a go. Plus, Slopes and I were still relatively new here at the time, and our brass was adamant that we prove our worth."

"Yeah, we were new, but we'd already done a hundred tests on a hundred different ships,” says Slowpoke.

”And we'd cracked all of them without breaking a sweat. So there we were, dumb and cocky enough to think that spying on Havoc Marauder would be like spying on all the others," Easy adds frankly. "We soon learned the hard way that we were wrong."

"Oh man," Hunter says, feeling like he finally knows where this story's headed. "Wha'd he do when he detected you guys?"

"He identified himself as Marauder to confirm your vessel. And then he warned us fair and square," Easy says. "Said he'd recognized our efforts to slice into Marauder's mainframe and that they'd just be futile. Told us to turn back, or he'd be compelled to retaliate."

"And, what?" Crosshair asks. "You thought the arrogant nerd was bluffing?"

"Of course, we thought he was bluffing," Slowpoke tells him.

"Yeah, by then, we'd looked on the GAR universal database and saw who you guys were, and we figured the one called 'Tech' was on the comms,” Easy adds. “We thought you guys were too specialized to bother with crypto know-how, and we thought our advanced training and equipment platforms would give us the upper hand in this challenge. So we went right ahead with it, trying to show Marauder who was boss."

"He warned us one more time before he counterattacked. And then..." adds Slowpoke. "And then he made us learn just who the kriff we were dealing with."

"How?" drawls Crosshair.

"Then all of our display screens went dark for a few seconds," Easy says. "And when they recovered, a little feature film was playing for our enjoyment. On all of them."

"Oh no..." Hunter says, only daring to imagine what Tech had in store for them at that moment.

"An adult feature film," Slowpoke supplies.

"No way!" Hunter says, hooting in unison with Crosshair.

"And I know what you're thinking," Easy says, cracking up at the memory. "You're thinking, 'oh yeah, like you've never had one of those tacky vids passed around the barracks,' right? Well, it wasn't just any smut film, fellas. It was all Hutts."

The collective groan that sounds out through the rollicking atmosphere of the room only makes everyone laugh even harder.

"But-but! Not just Hutts!" Easy chokes, fighting back tears of mirth. "They were fucking ancient, elderly, old Hutts."

"Probably the sickest shit I've ever beheld," says Slowpoke, collecting himself just enough to put some sincerity behind the remark.

"And that's saying something!" comments one of the boys Hunter hasn't met yet, and Slowpoke looks on, playfully peeved and casually brandishing his middle finger.

"How long did he let it go on?" asks Hunter, almost afraid to find out.

"A good hour," Easy tells him. "And by then, we were on our humble knees, begging him to relinquish control before any of the brass caught on, or we'd all be sent up! And he did, just in the knick of time. So, that's the story of how we met Tech.”

"And," Slowpoke adds, "we've been friends ever since."

"Friends?" Crosshair grumbles. "You all then just decided you wanted some dangerous slicing maniac as your friend?"

"Yeah, why not?" Easy says. "He was perfectly civil about warning us, and we were the ones who bit off more than we could chew. I would have done the same thing he did if someone was trying to mess with my guys' info, and I had to teach them a lesson they'd never forget."

"True," Crosshair agrees. "He was protecting us. Sounds like it did the trick."

"Sure did," says Slowpoke. "But we couldn't help but like him.”

”Yeah so we stayed in touch. We see him logged in as "Marauder" at some of the virtual Crypto conferences that we attend for training,” says Easy. “We always say hey, and he does too. But, collectively, we never messed with Marauder again after that."

"Collectively," Slowpoke reiterates. "Doesn't mean we're above having some of the shinies give it a go on their own when they're getting too big for their britches."

"Yeah, whenever we get students or rookies who come through thinking they're real hot shit," Easy says. "We send them right to Tech. We have them do a test in which they target Marauder, and Tech takes care of them for us. You know, knocks them down a peg or two."

"How does Tech only target one guy at a time if they're working out of your shop?" Hunter asks.

"Well, we can't tell you how he does it because we have no karking idea," says Easy.

"None whatsoever," Slowpoke adds.

"But, we can gladly tell you what he does. It's different every time, but he'll usually send out a mass message from their personal account with something ridiculous typed in the body of it. We've actually got them all saved somewhere..."

Easy then swivels around in his chair to address the gathered members of Serpent squad.

"Oi, Serpent," he says to them. "Whose got that list of messages that were sent whenever we've had shinies try to spy on Marauder?

"Got it right here, boss," says a clone from Easy's squad, tapping and scrolling on the datapad at his console.

"Yes, Timbre, well done!" Easy then swivels back to Hunter and Crosshair. "Hunter, Crosshair, meet Timbre. He's gonna do a dramatic reading of some of the good ones. Aren't you, vod?"

"Can do Sarge," the reg says readily, clearing his throat. "Let's see... oh here's a good one. This one was from a rookie whose unit was here for training before they went on to check in aboard Tranquility."

To everyone's delight, the reg called Timbre stands up out of his seat to make sure everyone can hear, then takes on a serious tone of voice to read out the messages.

"Good morning, brothers. Sorry to bother, but does anyone have a spare set of sheets I could borrow for my rack? I pissed in mine again last night and they're absolutely ruined. Thanks in advance."

"Damn, Tech," Hunter hears Crosshair whisper fondly as the room erupts into more laughter.

"That one got sent to our whole battalion and the battalion he was due to check in with a few days later," Slowpoke adds happily.

"That one's one of my favorites," Easy says admiringly. "Timbre, give us another."

"Sure thing, boss," says Timbre.

Hunter finds himself wondering if Timbre is Serpent squad's designated orator when it comes to recitation of the absolutely absurd.

"Any requests?" asks the reg before sharing another.

"Do the aftershave one!" shouts somebody on watch at a comms console.

"You got it," Timbre says readily, as he repeats the same process but with a slightly different voice this time so that the audience knows a different rookie is now speaking.

"Hey Fellas!!!! Does anyone know what that alluring aftershave is that Commander Cody uses? I just passed him in the p-way and it made my mouth water. Can't get it off my mind and thinking of trying it out for myself. Cheers!"

"Hells! Tell me Cody didn't see that one," says Hunter, eyes going wide but with a guilty grin.

"He did," Slowpoke reports mildly. "From some ass-licker down in Air Frames who was trying to make chief at the time. And the Commander was fuming.”

"Ahhh, he sure was!" Easy agrees wistfully. "We actually caught flak for that one too, because it's literally our job to stop external tampering of any kind. And I just had tuck tail and say 'sir, look, if we knew how this guy was doing it, we'd put an end to it.' But, as you guess, that didn't really cut it for ole Code-y."

"'This guy'," Crosshair repeats curiously. "You didn't rat on Tech?"

"'Course not, Crosshair, you sullen prick!" says Easy, playfully cuffing the sniper on the chest. "Kriff, you're pessimistic! We were the ones who set that loud-mouth, blowhard shiny into Tech's lair to begin with. And it's well-known Bad Batch gets far less free time than most."

"Yeah," Slowpoke agrees. "He's doing us a huge favor every time he gives arrogant new guys like that a good lick because it's arrogance that could cost our operations everything. Plus we bounce ideas off him all the time. We kinda lean on him here and there."

"Also, it was a nice reality check for those of us who were thinking we'd take another swing at Marauder's database," Easy admits. "Some of us thought we could find a way past Tech's defenses. But the truth was, we'd just forgotten that if we tried to mess with the wampa, we were gonna wake up, swinging by our ankles, in his cave."

"He did feel bad though when we told him Cody had us on scullery duty for a week after the incident," says Slowpoke. "After that, he stopped including anyone else in the narratives by name."

"Let's hear another message, Sarge," someone requests.

"Alright one more," Easy allows after consulting with and sharing a knowing look with his number two. "But just the one or we could be doin' this all night. Pick another good one for our honored guests, lads."

"The one about the butterfly!" shouts a Serpent reg, to an outpour of general agreement.

"No, do the one about the dance recital!" cries another to a similar level of assent.

"Both are fantastic, but let's have the butterfly," says Easy, swiftly and expertly breaking the tie. "Go for it, Timbre."

"Butterfly it is," says Timbre, preparing for one last little speech.

Hey comrades! I'm looking for a tattoo artist onboard... anyone have any good recs? Preferably someone good with colors because I'd like a maridun butterly on my lower back. And also, someone with a tender touch. I've extra sensitive skin and I cried a lot last time because it really, really hurt. Best regards.

"Oh shit!" Easy exclaims. "He straight castrated that bloke!"

"He kriffing deserved it, if my memory serves," reasons Slowpoke, casually sipping his drink. "And it does."

...

Hunter and Crosshair laugh heartily together as Easy moves to finally break up the fun. The reg sergeant sends those on watch back to their stations, while Slowpoke sends those who aren't down to their barracks to get some rest. After the shop returns to a general state of order, the four clones sit together peacefully once again.

"And thus concludes the adventure of how we met your Tech long before the mishap with the Bounty Hunters," Easy declares as he pours another round for each of them.

"Well, the story officially did not disappoint," Hunter says, clinking his glass on Slowpoke's. "And to be honest, it's probably the least controversial thing Tech's accomplished with his… skills."

"Where does he even come up with that stuff? I mean, he really doesn't mess around," says Easy, still laughing. "And worse, he looks a bit funny ya know? Like someone you could mess with at the cantina. But he's a kriffing savage, he is."

"He is on another level," Hunter agrees fondly.

"He's on his own level," Slowpoke says in a sudden moment of mindfulness. "Bet it gets lonely."

"It did," Crosshair tells the reg flatly. "But that was before Echo. Now, Tech has a partner when it comes to perpetrating cyber crimes."

"That's trouble," says Easy, sounding blissfully intrigued. "Oh right, Echo! I keep forgetting that Echo's got a whole new skillset these days. Hey, do you think Echo would know how to get past Tech's security and then help us finally retaliate? Maybe he'd sympathize as one former ARC to another."

"Fuck no," says Crosshair with a dry bark of cruel laughter. "Fuck. No. And he's still an ARC."

By now, Easy and Slowpoke both understand Crosshair's aversion to sugarcoating anything. But Hunter senses that they're still startled at the rigidly abrupt change in the sharpshooter's tone. As his brother and batchmate, Hunter knows Crosshair meant nothing more than emphasis by it, so he readily smooths over any ambiguity felt by the regs.

"What my charming scout sniper means," Hunter says with a laugh and a relaxed smile. "Is sorry, that's not happening, fellas. Our ARC’s all business. He doesn’t trouble himself with devious pranks and scruples when there's work to be done.”

"Well, that and he'd never tell you," Crosshair mutters, taking a sip from his beer. "Those two have been inseparable since within hours of knowing each other. It's revolting."

"That’s true," Hunter adds. "They kinda just meshed from the start. I don't think you could even drive a lightsaber between them at this point."

"Fuck," says Easy, cautiously admiring them. "Well, cheers to them being on our side, eh boys?"

"Cheers," Hunter says in unison with Crosshair and Slowpoke as they bang their glasses together and take a long draught.

Thank you so much for reading. I hope it made you smile! Reblogs, critiques, corrections, comments, and new ideas are welcome. Have a great day : ]

Easy and Slowpoke ("Slopes") are two OCs that roll over from another fic hehe! Easy is sort of a cross between Hunter and Wrecker and Slopes is almost a cross between Crosshair and Tech, and I've grown rather fond of these two helpful boys.

@amorfista @anxiouspineapple99 @wolffegirlsunite @freesia-writes @523rdrebel @sinfulsalutations @destril @zaana @queenjiru @oceanamber24 @raevulsix @enigmatist17

#star wars the bad batch #star wars the bad batch fanfic #sw tbb fanfic #the bad batch #sw tbb #sw the bad batch #tbb #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair #the bad batch tech #clone trooper tech #bad batch #clone trooper hunter #bad batch hunter #viv fics

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stellarbit · 23 days

Text

Shadows of the Order

the sad batch x reader

5.5k words themes hurt and comfort

You were separated from the Batch when Order 66 was executed on Kaller. Even as a Jedi dropout you weren't safe. Left behind, you have to recover and restart in the world after the Republic. You'd hoped to never run into Clone Force 99 again, but that hope ran out one day. featuring: a b1 battle droid

You know who deserved better? The clones. You know who else? The B1 battle droids. So I stuck a clanker in here for funsies. Had a ton of fun writing this. Hope y'all enjoy a little anguish. I'll be doin a spicy one next.

You fought alongside Clone Force 99 for a long time before the Battle of Kaller. Before Order 66. After meeting the padawan, Caleb, at the rendezvous point, you’d split off from the group to assist a team of troopers on the mountain while the boys joined General Bilaba.

The troopers you encountered recognized you from your days with the 501st. Despite your repeated efforts to clarify that you were no longer a Jedi, they seemed unconvinced. Fortunately, after dispatching a group of droids, the remaining Separatist forces were routed towards the main front, allowing your group to do the same.

As you neared the midway point down you noticed the troopers falling back. Sliding to a stop in the snow, you turned back. There were about 10 of them, all standing around one holding a holocomm of a hooded figure. Half of them looked at you in sync, fixing the grip on their guns, the rest followed a heartbeat later.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Somewhere far down the mountain you heard screaming and blaster fire at the same moment the troopers turned their guns on you. You took off away from the troopers before the first shot rang out.

“Get the Jedi!” A lone trooper pierced through the chaos.

Quick thinking led you to drop a stun grenade, followed by another, as you sprinted onward. The explosions managed to incapacitate some of the troopers, but not enough. Switching your blaster to stun mode, you sought cover behind a nearby tree, emerging only to neutralize the nearest clones before a shot hit your right shoulder, propelling you into a desperate sprint away from them.

With escape and evasion as your only viable options, the Marauder seemed too distant to reach in time. Instead you aimed for a waterfall you spotted while landing. It was a slim chance, but your best hope for losing the troopers.

As you fled, you deliberately dug your fingers into the wound on your shoulder, leaving a trail of blood in your wake. It was a risky move, but if you had any hope of evading capture, they needed to track you. When you saw the water through the trees you wasted no time in ripping away your chest plate. As soon as you got to the crest of the waterfall you launched your chest plate over the edge.

With one glance over the cliff, you gritted your teeth, pressing into your injured shoulder, crouched, and lowered yourself over the ledge. You grabbed high over the ledge and drug your bloody hand back down over. One more look below to ensure a safe landing spot and let go. Relying on the Force to guide your descent into an alcove leading behind the cascading water.

Once there, you swiftly shed the remaining pieces of armor, discarding them into the rushing stream as you shifted farther into the veil of the waterfall.

When you finally heard the troopers at the cliff edge, all you could do was listen, wait, and hope they fell for it.

“Looks like she tried to scale down,” one of them remarked, his voice carrying over the sound of rushing water.

“There! In the water, I see her armor!” Another trooper's voice rang out, sending a jolt of panic through you as you desperately sought cover. Their voices dropped too low to hear before you caught the tail end of the conversation.

“Confirmed, Commander Grey. The Jedi has been neutralized. Visual confirmation obtained,” a trooper reported, the cold finality of his words chilling you.

The clone trooper paused, most likely receiving transmission. “Yes sir. Alright boys, we are to rejoin Commander Grey and head out. His forces eliminated Bilaba and Clone Force 99 took care of the padawan. Gather the stunned troops and let’s move out.” That was the last thing you heard before the troopers left.

Your heart stopped. The blood in your veins froze. You lurched for something - anything - to steady yourself on. One moment everything was normal and the next you were being gunned down by clones you risked everything for. Clone Force 99 took care of the padawan.

There wasn’t enough air in the tiny alcove to think, the waterfall was too loud, the water hitting your face too cold. Desperately, you gripped the slippery rocks as your legs gave out.

Nothing made sense. Questions raced through you, each more unsettling than the last. Had all of the clones turned on the Republic? Why were they targeting Jedi specifically? Clones that served with General Bilaba for years suddenly gunned her down.

Nothing added up. If the orders affected all clones, there was a good possibility that the Bad Batch was also following them. Despite their independent streak, they were still clones, some orders had to be followed. It was a sobering realization - one that left you feeling vulnerable and nauseous. You weren’t going to be safe until they left. If they left.

The thought of aiming a weapon on the members of Clone Force 99 cracked something inside you. Besides, it was foolish to think you had a chance against all of them. With an entire army of reinforcements, attempting to take them on would be nothing short of suicidal.

Survival became your sole focus. There was no time to dwell on what went wrong or how to escape the planet's unforgiving terrain. For now, all you could do was stay hidden, biding your time until the coast was clear.

One by one, you discarded your armor and any identifiable markers into the water. It wasn’t about shedding your identity; it was a practical decision, one you could handle. Not long after, the sound of footsteps echoed from above. You pressed yourself against the rock again, your senses on high alert.

An eternity seemed to passed before the person moved. “The Jedi target was neutralized. If she’s not already dead, she’s as good as it.” It was Crosshair’s voice, cold and detached.

There was another moment of silence before you heard Tech’s voice, “Affirmative. Blood stains indicate she attempted to scale down the cliff and subsequently fell.” His tone was as clinical as ever but you almost fooled yourself into thinking there was something else to it. “Pieces of her armor are wedged in the rocks below. Crosshair is correct, if she did not perish on impact the likelihood of her survival is negligible. We need to leave.”

They weren't out there to rescue you; they were there to confirm you were dead.

It was all too much to process. Every muscle, every bone, every nerve in your body seemed to fail, leaving you a trembling mess. When the two men finally left, you didn’t know.

“We don’t leave our own behind.” You heard Hunter’s voice and heard his lie.

They left you. You fought for them, yet they hunted you down and abandoned you.

Long after night had fallen, you mustered the strength to climb out of the alcove, your injured shoulder protesting every movement. Descending into the battlefield, you searched for a salvageable ship and supplies. Amidst the wreckage, you stumbled upon the one thing you weren’t looking for.

General Bilaba’s lightsaber. She must’ve lost it in the struggle. Such a valuable thing lost to the snow and wreckage, not even retrieved. Disposable. You held the cold metal in your hand before tucking it away.

You found one ship that might manage to get off the ground. Nearby, you spotted a partially disabled battle droid, still in remarkably good condition despite its current state. It appeared to have been incapacitated by a stun grenade. As you examined it, Tech's lessons on droid maintenance flooded your mind, particularly the techniques for reprogramming them for combat purposes.

Kneeling beside the droid you flipped it onto its back to access programming. You’d pulled it off before, reprogramming battle droids to counter attack. You just never thought you’d need the skills like this.

The process was far from seamless. You electrocuted yourself on the power supply, nearly damaged a circuit board while removing the restraining bolt, and the rewiring process dragged on longer than expected, especially under the cover of darkness.

Eventually, the battle droid sprung to life, clutching its head as it sat up. You lowered yourself onto one knee as the droid adjusted itself. "Where am I?" its questioning began, its metallic voice filled with confusion. "Is the battle over? Did we win?"

Hearing the droid address you instead of immediately engaging in combat felt oddly surreal, but given the day's events, it was perhaps the least strange thing. "What is your primary directive?" you asked, trying to gauge its functionality.

It clunked a hand against its head. "Huh, that's odd. I don't seem to have one."

That was a start.

You rose to your feet and offered your hand. "In that case, how about we team up and find a way off this rock?"

Its head swiveled from side to side as it processed the proposal. "You mean, I get to choose?"

You let out a small scoff and maintained your outstretched hand. "Your options are coming with me or staying here to rust."

"Fair point," the droid responded, almost cheerfully, as it reached for your hand. "So, what's the plan for getting off this dump?"

You gestured toward the ship you hoped to salvage. "Can you handle starship repairs?"

“Sure thing, boss. Want me to clean it up?”

You threw it a puzzled look, “Why would I-” You shook your head, “No, we need to repair it enough to get it off this planet.

“Well, that doesn’t make sense.” The B1 unit pointed at the ship. “That ship doesn’t need repairs, we just crashed it.”

Maybe picking a battle droid for an assistant wasn’t the best choice. “Was it your group that crashed it?”

“Yep!” It said too proudly. “Happens all the time. But I told you, this one doesn’t need repairs to fly.” The droid paused for a second, tapping a metal digit to the tip of its face, then added. “Yet.”

That didn’t bode well for survival. You waved for it to follow you, “Let’s see if you’re right.” Over your shoulder you asked. “What can I call you?”

“My identifier is OOM-672.”

Walking amongst dozens of disabled B1 units you mused, “Looks like you’re about to be one of the last OOM models in the galaxy. So why don’t we cut that down to O2?”

“Wow!” The way it vocalized almost added syllables to the word. “Yeah, O2 sounds much better! What do I call you? Master?”

You cringed at the sound of that. “I’m not your master, O2. We’re going to have to settle with being friends or buddies.”

“You got it, Buddy!”

Thankfully, O2 was right. The ship could fly and it had enough fuel to get you far from Kaller. Enough to get you all the way to the Outer Rim if you wanted. It was risky, but following the pattern of the day, it was your only chance at survival. You just didn’t let O2 pilot.

After the rise of the Galactic Empire, you and O2 settled on a planet in the Mid Rim. You scavenged and sold enough equipment from Kaller for a comfortable amount of credits to start off with. You pieced together a new identity, often concealing your face beneath a helmet and relying on a voice modulator. Being dead in the eyes of the Empire had its advantages.

The best way to stay hidden, you figured, was to stay in plain sight.

You wormed your way into ownership of a small inn. Although, your background as a Jedi and a soldier left you ill-prepared for running a business, and you struggled to turn a profit.

“O2!” You shouted from the lobby.

The battle droid sauntered in from the dining area. “Yes, Buddy?” The droid’s nickname for you always worked a smile out of you.

You tossed them a rusted-out metal part, which they scrambled to catch, their movements clumsy and uncoordinated. After a few failed attempts, they finally managed to grasp it securely. “The circulator for our boiler is busted. Can you head to the market and fetch a replacement? The parts dealer should have one available.”

“Roger, roger!” O2 chimed enthusiastically, ready to depart.

You yanked them by the shoulder. “O2,” You warned. “Do you remember how to pay?”

They rolled their head in an exaggerated display of weariness. “I know, I know - ‘charge it to the tab.’”

Raising an eyebrow, you waited for more. “And?”

O2 tapped a compartment on their chest, revealing a few credits inside. A result of some previous tinkering done by you. “And I have the extra credits.”

“And what’re they for?” You pressed.

“For ‘just in case.’” They replied

Stepping forward, you pushed the compartment closed. “In case of trouble, O2,” you reminded them firmly. Giving them a light knock with the back of your knuckles, you added, “Give me a call if you find yourself staring down the barrel of a blaster.”

As far as O2 was concerned, they had it easy. You rescued them from decommissioning and in return, all you asked for were simple tasks and the opportunity to tinker with their hardware. The tinkering, more often than not, turned out for the better - at least most of the time.

When you and O2 first arrived, the presence of a battle droid initially unnerved the townsfolk. However, they grew accustomed to O2's quirky demeanor. O2 was more goofy than intimidating almost by design. Plus, after a few instances of O2 causing trouble with the neighbors, they quickly learned to keep their hands off the droid. Often with a not so subtle reminder of a vibroblade at their throats.

O2 ambled through the town, exchanging waves with the occasional vendor. Stalls and shops lined the narrow, winding streets, colorful canopies providing shelter from the sun for the patrons below. Amidst the hustle and bustle, droids weaved through the crowds, delivering goods and providing services to customers.

As O2 approached the parts dealer, raised voices caught their attention. Nearby, at a fruit stand, a vendor held a pear just out of reach of a young girl. "That's not fair!" the girl protested, reaching for the fruit. "I already paid you!"

Deviating from their path, O2 made their way toward the girl. She appeared to be a young human with light hair, a visitor to the town.

"Hey, stop that!" O2 called out in their attempt at an authoritative tone. They reached the girl and bent slightly to address her. "Are you in trouble, young human?"

The girl turned to O2, visibly puzzled. After a moment of assessing the situation, she nodded slowly. "Uh, yeah," she replied, more confidently this time. "Yes. He's taking my money but insisting I still owe him more." She pointed a finger accusingly at the vendor.

O2 looked between the vendor and the little girl several times. When they finally grasped the situation, they exclaimed, “Ohh! You’re in trouble and need more credits. That’s perfect!” They poked open the compartment on their chest, revealing the credits.

The girl shook her head in disbelief. "N-no, I've already paid," she insisted, casting a disdainful glance at the vendor. "He's just trying to cheat me."

Raising a finger in a gesture of understanding, O2 interjected, "You're in trouble and these credits are for 'in case of trouble.'" They plucked out a few credits and pivoted at the hip to offer them to the vendor.

From behind the booth, the vendor's expression shifted to one of quiet annoyance, yet he begrudgingly began packing a bag with pears. "There's no trouble, O2," he retorted curtly, dropping the bag into the girl's arms. "Now, move along, kid."

The girl frowned at the man but did turn away. She looked up at O2 with a smile. “Thanks,” She pulled a curious face and stepped back from the droid for a better look. “You’re a B1 battle droid. What are you doing here?”

“I’m purchasing a new part.” O2 held up the broken circulator as proof.

She held back a smile. “No, no. I meant, weren’t all battle droids supposed to be decommissioned.” She gestured around her, “So what are you doing out here alone?”

O2 didn’t have time to respond when a man yelled, “Omega! Get away from that thing!” A male with a face tattoo shoved through the crowd and slammed the battle droid in the chest with the hilt of a blade.

“Whoa!” O2 yelled, stumbling backward into the fruit stand.

The little girl squeezed between O2 and the man. “Don’t hurt them, Hunter!” She threw her arms out to shield O2. “They were just helping !” Three other men arrived behind Hunter while O2 righted themself.

One of the men, with a socket for a hand, pushed to the front of the group and pointed his prosthetic at the droid. “Omega, you don’t know what that clanker is capable of.”

“Hey!” O2 whined in protest and shook a fist at him. “You can’t call me that!”

“Says who?” Growled the largest man of the group.

“Says my buddy!” O2 started reaching for its head to send out a comm when the fruit vendor grabbed his hand.

“O2!” He laughed nervously and patted the droid harshly, “There’s no trouble.” The vendor pointed a finger at the men. “I’m not dealing with their friend today, so move out.”

“Friend?” The big guy repeated incredulously.

The cyborg hovered his hand over the blaster at his hip. “Where’s your master, droid?”

O2 thrusted their head in a sassy manner, “I don’t have a master.”

Hunter moved Omega to the side and put his knife just below O2’s head. “Why don’t you take us to this friend of yours?”

“That depends.” O2 said skeptically. “Are you looking for an inn?”

Hunter passed a look to the men behind him. “An inn?”

“Only customers can come to the inn. So - are you looking for an inn?”

Hunter lowered the knife and jerked his head to say ‘get going’, “Sure thing. Now, let’s go.”

“Roger, roger.” The droid said with a little salute and then tapped his fingers to the tip of his face. “Say, do I know you guys?

“Move it, clanker.” The cyborg ordered again.

Back at the inn, you waited in the lobby reading through bank statements. The front door was open to the street, allowing you to hear O2’s distinctive footsteps approaching. You pushed away from and around the desk to greet them. “That may have been your fastest run yet. How much - oh!” You stopped mid sentence when a young girl trailed in behind the droid. Behind your headgear you smiled, “Did you make a friend?”

The little blonde waved up at you, “Hello.”

A dent in O2’s chest plate caught your eye. You motioned for the droid. “O2, what did you do to your chest plate?”

“Well, I didn’t do it.” The droid sassed, but moved forward and leaned down for you to inspect. You reached up, held their head, and moved it side to side for inspection. Other than the dent they were fine. You patted their face in relief when, from the corner of your eye four figures filed in.

You went stock-still at the sound of a familiar voice, Hunter’s voice. “You own this clanker?”

This was it. This was the day you died.

Giving O2 one last pat, you turned to face the Bad Batch standing in your doorway, as formidable as ever. Hunter led the group, with Echo on his left, Tech on his right, and Wrecker flanking Echo. Crosshair was conspicuously absent. Their mismatched armor was newly painted in vibrant colors.

Silently assessing them, you took a moment to compose yourself, shoving your fear and anger as deep as you could. Their demeanor said they didn't recognize you and you needed them gone before they did.

"Sure," you replied vaguely, your voice muffled by the voice modulator. Keeping your gaze fixed on the clones, you instructed O2, "O2, grab my satchels from the back." Without hesitation, the droid complied.

"What are you doing with a separatist battle droid?" Echo's voice bristled as he stepped forward. "Do you realize how dangerous that thing is?"

Images of Echo tending to your wounds flooded in, abruptly interrupted by the recollection of red blaster shots narrowly missing your head.

"OOM-672 has been reprogrammed," you replied, waving your hand dismissively. "They no longer pose a threat and wartime objectives have been nullified."

"Incorrect," Tech said as he tapped the side of his helmet to move his visor. "If the droid's reprogramming is faulty, it could revert to its original directives at any moment. Depending on the data stored in its memory, that could prove dangerous should it fall into the wrong hands." He advanced toward O2, pointing a finger. "Allow me to examine it—"

“Their programming is fine.” You instinctively took a step back, bumping into O2 with the bags you requested. One had spare credits for bribing them out of your parlor and, in case that didn’t work, the other contained a blaster and Bilaba’s lightsaber.

As you sorted through the first bag for credits, you spat, “No one lays a hand on the droid except me. Especially not a bunch of clones." With a flick of your wrist, you tossed a handful of credits at Hunter. "Now get out of my lobby.” You made the mistake of addressing them as clones and hoped the odd comment passed over them. They obviously didn’t look like other clones to the untrained eye.

"Oh!" O2's voice chimed in recognition, but you swiftly raised a hand to silence the droid.

“Do we look like we work for the Empire?” Wrecker asked, almost growled, with hands on Omega’s shoulders.

Hunter glanced at the credits before tossing them back. “Just let us look at the droid,” he urged.

Without missing a beat you caught the credits, brandished the blaster, and aimed it at the leader. Immediately, the other brothers aimed their blasters at you. "Got a malfunction in those helmets?" You gestured toward the exit with your weapon. "I said leave. No stranger gets their hands on my droid."

“Strangers?” O2 stepped to your side and pointed at the group of clones. “They’re not strangers. We know them.”

Your blaster dipped for a moment, frustration nipping at you before you firmed up your grip. “O2, knowing someone for five minutes doesn’t mean you know them.”

“Just calm down.” Hunter said slowly.

“Five minutes?” The battle droid shook their head in confusion. “We go waaay back.” They hummed a thoughtful sound. “Although they did stun me on Kaller.” A chill gripped your spine at the mention of Kaller.

"Kaller?" Omega's gaze flitted between the men around her. "Where's that?" The rustle of shifting armor filled the lobby as the four men exchanged glances, their blasters trained still on you.

“Who are you and how did you get that droid?” Echo's voice carried a forceful edge as he pushed you.

“Get out.” You repeated with more venom. “Clones follow orders. That’s an order.”

Hunter slowly raised his hands, removing his helmet and revealing his tattooed face. The sight of him made it hard to breathe through.

"We're not with the Empire," Hunter declared. "And we're not big on following orders, either."

"Liar!" Your scream reverberated through the room, the voice modulator straining against your volume. Something flickered in Hunter's expression.

For someone with no skin in the war, you were proving to be awfully reactive.

"Hunter," Tech intervened firmly, prompting you to swing your blaster in his direction. "Look at that blaster." You glanced down at your weapon, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

“What about it, Tech?” Hunter asked.

“That blaster has nonstandard modifications. Only five like it exist.” Tech explained, his tone serious.

“Not the time to be admiring blasters.” Echo snapped.

“The issue is,” Tech shot an annoyed look at his brother. “They are my modifications.” His grip relaxed slightly. “We have four of them and the other was - ”

You fired a shot at Tech before he could finish and attempted to fire another when Hunter lunged at you. He knocked the blaster from your hand and swung for your head. Wrecker shoved the kid behind him while you and Hunter exchanged blows, his hitting much harder than you remembered.

You saw Tech activating a stun grenade as O2 reached for your blaster. Yanking a vibroblade from your hip, you rammed the hilt of it into the side of Hunter’s head, causing him to stumble back. Swiftly, you lurched in the way of the stun grenade, intercepted it, and threw as far as you could behind you.

Echo took no time in disarming and disabling O2 while Hunter regained his senses and grabbed for you. His touch was a breath away when you thrust out your hands and blew him back with the Force. Before Hunter could register what happened, Wrecker grabbed you by the neck, and yanked you from the ground.

You clawed at his hand but couldn’t stop the giant crushing your windpipe and ripping off your headgear.

Seeing your bare face, livid and unable to breathe, shook Wrecker and gave you the chance to slam your feet into his stomach. He dropped you to the ground where you writhed and gasped for air. Your dropped blaster was nowhere in sight, but the other satchel was.

Still retching for air, you threw a hand out and the lightsaber flew to you. Green light blasted out of the hilt, parallel to the ground and putting a thrumming barrier between you and the clones.

“A Jedi?” Omega said in wonder, poking her head around Wrecker. Wrecker, notably, didn’t push her back behind him.

They all lowered their weapons and Tech, Echo, and Wrecker removed their helmets. Different shades of shock on all of them. “Sarad?” Tech spoke softly.

“Stay away from me.” You growled from the ground. Slowly, you repositioned yourself, strengthening your stance to pounce or run.

“We thought you were-”

“Dead?” You cut Wrecker off and cut a look at Tech. “Guess you aren’t as thorough as you think.” At that, Tech’s eyebrows hit his hairline.

“We didn’t follow that order.” Hunter interjected.

“Liar!” You lashed out. “I heard the troopers. ‘Clone Force 99 took care of the padawan.’”

Hunter started lowering himself to your eye level. “We let him escape.”

Echo stepped forward, his eyes avoiding yours. “We thought you were dead,” he admitted. He closed his eyes for a moment before finally meeting your gaze. “We thought the other troopers got to you, but we came looking for you as soon as we could.”

You didn’t dignify him with a response, in your eyes the only thing they deserved were holes through their chests.

Out of all of them, Tech stood the straightest, his demeanor showing no sign of shame in their handling of the situation. Still, he thought carefully on how to say what he needed, his hands clenching and unclenching as he processed it.

When he locked eyes with you, it was clear he’d considered his words meticulously, repeating the process in his mind multiple times before coming to the same conclusion

“With your blood and broken armor, there were two plausible outcomes,” he began, counting them out with his fingers. “First, that you perished either by the troopers or the falls. The second, that you…” His gaze momentarily shifted away, seeing your armor in the rocks. “... that you escaped.” Returning his gaze to yours, he continued, “In both scenarios, our intervention would have only made things worse. And Crosshair-”

You jumped to your feet in a challenge, Hunter quickly positioning himself between you and the others. “I don’t believe you,” you hissed, swinging the saber to the side before snapping it back in front of you. “So finish what you started.”

Hunter maintained his steady gaze as his brothers holstered their blasters. “We won’t fight you,” he assured, his tone resolute. Your eyes darted between them, searching for any sign of aggression. Seconds stretched on but the men held their ground.

“He’s telling the truth,” Omega whispered, joining Hunter at his side. "All clones were programmed to follow that order." She cast a meaningful glance at the men surrounding her. "But their altered states made them immune to the order."

For months, anger had been your constant companion, fueling you through each passing rotation. Anger at the Jedi Purge, at the failures of the Republic, and most of all, the seething rage at the Bad Batch for leaving you behind to bear the weight of it all alone. Months of grief and pain don’t just disappear.

The room seemed to warp and blur around you, your grip on the saber beginning to falter. Clinging to it tightly, you gritted your teeth, fighting to maintain your composure. The world snapped back into focus when tears finally breached your resolve, slipping down your cheeks unchecked.

“Then….” your arm dipped before falling limply at your side. “You left me for dead.” Your voice cracked and the words came out in a sob. “You left me behind.”

You thought the pain of them hunting you was the worst thing you could experience. The realization of abandonment was worse. A tight knot formed in your stomach, threatening to make you sick.

Driven by months of simmering anger, you shook your head through your tears. , “I survived without you, and I’ll keep surviving without you.” You let the green light of the saber fade. “So just leave.” The last words came out less like the command you wanted it to be and more like plea.

Wrecker ‘s eyes went wide, “You think after all this time,” he gestured toward you, “when we just got you back, we’d just leave?” A defiant look passed over him. “Sorry, not happening.”

“Sarad,” Tech spoke like it was just the two of you. YoYou closed your eyes briefly, savoring the familiarity of his tone. For a moment, you thought they might all disappear, as if they were never there. “Leaving you was a choice we never wanted to make. But it was the choice that led us here and ensured your survival. Keeping you alive was more important than keeping you by our sides.” He nodded, standing firm in his choices. “Your survival was the only acceptable outcome.”

The lightsaber grew heavy in your hand.

Wrecker reached out with a pleading gesture. "The regs would've— we couldn't..." He faltered, searching for the right words, but Omega touched his forearm and urged him forward.

Wrecker stepped through his brothers and although you flinched like you might run he reached out and touched your face. First with one hand and then a second when you tried to turn away. Holding you like that, seeing you safe in his hands, made it hard for Wrecker to ever imagine letting go.

Tears continued to flow down your cheeks, falling over his hands. Wrecker swept them away with his thumbs before pulling you into his arms. "Sorry, Sarad. We're sorry."

Your hands hovered on either side of you, it was the first time you’d truly touched another organic lifeform since Kaller. The lightsaber hit the ground and you fell into Wrecker.

You’d let yourself feel angry at them all those months alone, but, in an instant, it was overshadowed by the grief of having been without them.

Pulling just out of Wrecker’s embrace you rubbed away the remaining tears. “I’ve missed you.”

“We missed you too.” Echo answered for the group.

Looking between them all, you felt like the world was a little safer. There were a few things standing out to you though. First being the little girl with them and Crosshair’s absence.

Immediately reading you, Hunter touched Omega’s shoulder. “A lot has changed.”

"I can see that," the girl smiled warmly at you, her expression oddly familiar despite never having met before.

Tech breezed past you, heading straight for O2. He knelt beside the droid, adjusting his goggles before turning to you. "So, you really salvaged this droid from Kaller?" You affirmed with a nod, prompting a look of mild disturbance from Tech. "And it's proven to be useful?" Another nod from you. "Well, that's just as surprising as your survival," he remarked, his tone tinged with genuine curiosity.

"Be kind to O2," you interjected, joining Tech by O2's side to rouse the droid. "They're my friend."

Echo scratched the back of his head, a sheepish expression crossing his features. "That's... going to take some getting used to."

Omega joined you and Tech, her eyes wide with fascination as Tech began to point out various features of the battle droid. A smile tugged at your lips as you watched the interaction unfold. The inn you had purchased never truly felt like home, much like Coruscant and the Jedi Order before it.

But here, amidst the Bad Batch, you finally felt a sense of belonging. You were home.

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decembermidnight · 29 days

Text

Don't lose your focus

Summary: As a Jedi Padawan fighting during the Clone Wars, you and your Master are used to teaming up with Clones. But none are as intriguing as Clone Force 99 and their leader, Sergeant Hunter. Sparks fly immediately and it's difficult to keep your focus. With the mission complete, perhaps the two of you will finally give in and indulge in your desires...

Pairing: Hunter x Jedi!fem!reader

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: smut, 18+ MDNI, Dom!Hunter, use of pet names (sweetheart), shameless flirting, mentions of alcohol consumption, masculinity kink, voice kink, light choking, hand kink, body worship, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, orgasm delay, creampie

A/N: This is the result of me watching The Bad Batch while ovulating. This is (probably) not how the Force works but your honour I was horny. Thank you to my dear @thefrogdalorian for the immense help and support! I love you so much! Amazing divider by @saradika-graphics At the end of the fic you'll find the links to some amazing Hunter fanarts I found here on Tumblr! These were such an inspiration when writing and I wanted to thank and credit the artists for creating such amazing pieces!

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

Another day, another dangerous mission in the Outer Rim.

Nothing new for you and your Master who are used to leading these missions successfully. The only difference is that this time you'll be assisted by Experimental Unit Clone Force 99. It’s the first time you even heard about them, but your superiors assured you they’re best suited for this job. A highly-skilled squad of defective clones with desirable mutations? Sounds interesting.

Apparently, The Bad Batch, as they call themselves, despise rules and protocol and adopt unusual methods to get the job done… Much like you and your Master.

Their ship has just made a bumpy landing on the field, causing a fuss. You watch curiously as the squad descends the ramp. There are four of them, and they undoubtedly look badass in their black armour.

The first one – their leader, you assume – removes his helmet and... damn. Damn. He's hot, with a confident look in his deep brown eyes. He also has long, wavy, dark hair; a feature which has always been a weakness of yours. His face is half covered in a tattoo that resembles a skeleton. He's undoubtedly the most charming of the Batch, and also the most attractive clone you’ve ever come across.

“I’m Sergeant Hunter,” he rasps as he greets you and your Master. His voice is deep and husky, very different from those of all the other clones you’ve met so far.

After introducing himself, Hunter moves to quickly describe the peculiarities that make each of the members of the team unique. As you stand back to observe them, you can’t help thinking just how much fun they are. Wrecker (the strong one) is getting reluctantly lectured by Tech (the smart one) while Crosshair (the laconic and lethal sniper) stands there in silence. He reminds you of your Master so much.

As much as you enjoy observing the rest of the squad, you find your gaze returns to Hunter, the clone with enhanced senses. You are unable to tear your eyes away from him. You know you have to keep it together, but you can’t help eating him with your eyes. Your gaze lingers on his body, on the way his pauldrons make his shoulders even broader, how much the black colour of his armour suits him.

You have just begun fantasising about the way his strong body would look without the armour when you notice Hunter staring directly at you. Busted. You lock eyes for a few seconds and you just know that he understands the nature of the thoughts you’re having about him. Then, your pounding heart skips a beat when Hunter winks at you. It is a split-second gesture that is over so quickly amidst the chaos of the conversation, a little secret between the two of you. You smile flirtatiously at him in response.

The whole group begins heading towards their ship, The Marauder. While the rest of the Batch and your Master head up the ramp towards the ship that will take you to the rendezvous point, you and Hunter pause at the bottom.

“I’m afraid I haven’t caught your name, sweetheart?” Hunter asks, breaking the silence with his deep, raspy voice.

"I am a Jedi, not a sweetheart," you point out teasingly and look at him with crossed arms, trying to sound tough.

"A Padawan," he reminds you with a smirk on his face.

You watch curiously as Hunter takes your braid – the unmistakable sign of your rank as an apprentice – between his fingers. He gently rolls it between his gloved finger and thumb contemplatively as his brown eyes meet your gaze once again.

"I technically outrank you, Sergeant," you say, challenging him.

"You do, Commander," Hunter nods, but makes no effort to move his hand away from your braid, or to interrupt eye contact.

Hunter can tell that you don’t mind the gesture. As if to push the boundaries further, he moves his hand from your braid to gently place it on your cheek. The leather of his glove feels soft against your face. You are stunned that a seasoned soldier such as him can actually be so gentle in the way he touches you.

You can feel the tension coming from the two of you, a simmering fire somewhere deep within. It's only a matter of time before it boils over. You look at each other straight in the eyes, neither one of you daring to look away.

Just as you're about to tease him with yet another witty reply, you hear the sound of footsteps at the top of the ramp.

"Hey, Hunter, are you gonna come with us or what?!" Wrecker shouts, abruptly interrupting your shameless flirting.

"On my way," Hunter replies, without breaking eye contact with you.

His intense gaze lingers on you for a few more seconds before he looks at you apologetically and turns to head up to the ramp and onto the Marauder.

As soon as Hunter turns away from you, you realise just how hard your heart is thundering in your chest. His gaze was so intense that it made you forget to breathe properly. So much for the Jedi breathing techniques. It turns out if there is a handsome man with dark eyes flirting with you, they lose all effectiveness. You take a deep breath, filling your burning lungs with oxygen.

When you enter the ship, you are still trembling. As you take a seat next to your Master, you try to ignore his accusatory glare. You feel his eyes burning into your soul as the guilt threatens to overwhelm you, even though nothing too scandalous happened.

As the Marauder enters hyperspace, your Master takes a seat on the cold metallic floor in an isolated area of the ship. Meditating before battle is a ritual he always follows and you immediately join him. It can help you shift your focus back to where it should be – on the mission. Only, you can't focus.

Instead of your mind becoming one with the Force, you're highly attuned to the actions of the members of the squad. It is as though you can see them as if you were standing before them: Tech studying the holo-maps, Crosshair cleaning his sniper rifle, Wrecker taking a nap, and of course, Hunter. He is mindlessly playing with his vibroknife as he slouches on a crate.

You are entranced by the way his fingers move across the handle and the blade. Maker, the movement of his hand and fingers – you can't focus on anything else as he makes the knife masterfully swirl between them. There's something so erotic about the way he plays with it. Your mind wanders to think about his hands roaming on your body, slipping between your thighs, skillfully rubbing your clit. You fantasise about how quickly Hunter would make you come, how hard your orgasm would be as it tore through you, leaving you a trembling wreck.

Your focus then goes to his muscular thighs. Hunter’s legs are spread wide and he looks so effortlessly masculine. The aura of confidence he radiates as he comfortably sits there, taking up the entire crate as he lounges on top of it, gives you even more thoughts that are unbecoming of a Padawan. It makes you almost dizzy with want as you think about how much you want to straddle him and ride him into ecstasy.

“Are you done?” your Master’s cold voice interrupts your filthy train of thought with a brief and concise message through the Force.

He heard your thoughts. Each and every single one. Your Master caught you red-handed. How embarrassing.

You are too mortified to even mumble an apology, through the Force or otherwise. Instead, you sit there wishing you could be anywhere else in the galaxy as you feel the heat rise in your cheeks and pull your hood up to hide your flustered face in your cape.

Luckily, before the awkward moment can continue for any longer, Tech announces the imminent jump out of hyperspace. You still cannot bear to make eye contact with your Master, shrinking into your blessedly baggy cape as you begin the descent into the planet’s atmosphere...

The mission was a success – you and your Master worked your magic with the precious support of Clone Force 99. What seemed like a desperate operation, turned out to be an extremely important victory for the Republic. Training with your Master has been so hard, but damn did that pay off. You slayed all your enemies elegantly and effortlessly, just like he taught you. The whole Bad Batch congratulated you two. Wrecker was especially impressed, electing the two of you as his favourite Jedi. What an honour. Hunter also invited you and your Master to celebrate the victory by having a drink all together in a cantina.

Just as you’re about to enter the cantina and join the Bad Batch, your Master calls your name. You stop in your tracks, scared that he might reprimand you for the way you acted today. You begin panicking and thinking back to what happened in guilt…

When you and your Master had taken off your heavy capes before engaging in battle, you noticed Hunter couldn't keep his eyes off you. You were wearing a skin-tight dark suit, after all.

It was a fact you decided to exploit after Hunter had given his squad their orders for the mission. You walked away swaying your hips, making sure you gave him a great opportunity to look at your ass. You remember how you could feel his eyes glued to it. You could also feel his desire for you. It was impossible for him to hide; it permeated him, radiated from him. Maker, you love making him crumble.

You think back to the way Crosshair rasped, "Hunter, don't lose your focus.” You are certain that is what your Master is about to scold you for.

Instead, you watch in shock as a half smile appears on your Master’s face, something you don't see very often.

“You did good today. I’m proud of you,” he nods.

Since when does your Master pay you compliments like this?

“Th-Thank you,” you stammer, caught off-guard by how unexpected his praise is.

“You fulfilled your duties as a Jedi. Now, go and have your fun.”

You don’t have time to respond before he turns on his heel and walks away, cape billowing in the breeze. You know your Master doesn’t often like to stick around after missions, often needing some quiet time to himself to decompress and meditate. You let him go, knowing that he will find his way back to the Marauder before it departs, as he always does.

As you step into the Cantina, a smile spreads on your face when you notice the Bad Batch sitting at a table with a full flagon of booze and an empty seat for you to toast your success. You and Hunter lock eyes again as he invites you to sit in that spot close to him.

Hunter loses no time in placing his arm around your shoulders while smiling at you. You lean into his embrace, feeling comforted and protected. The warm presence of his arm around you makes you smile contentedly. It feels so good to let the guard down for once, especially if you're in the arms of a handsome, strong and charming man such as Hunter.

As the night goes on, the three other members of The Bad Batch keep conversing with each other, giving you and Hunter the opportunity to speak privately. It’s as though the background noise fades out. You don't even bother focusing on the discourse the others are having. It’s just you and Hunter flirting shamelessly now.

“You know, I've never seen a ship like yours. I wish I had time to properly explore it... Thoroughly," you flirt with him while draining the last few dregs in your flagon.

"Want me to give you a tour, sweetheart?" he says with a smile on his face, perfectly understanding your intentions.

"Would be cool, yeah," you reply.

Hunter offers you his hand and you gladly accept it with a mischievous smile.

Just as you stand, you feel the alcohol has definitely kicked in. You’re not drunk though, just a little bit tipsy, enough to make you brave and go get exactly what you want.

As soon as you and Hunter get out of the cantina and find yourselves alone in the dark alley, you both give into the instincts you tried to suppress all day long. Hunter pins you to the wall as you pull him closer at the same time, until you join in a passionate, longing kiss.

You welcome his tongue in your mouth as his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His touch and the way he kisses you are so confident that you clench around nothing, holding him tighter as you moan in his mouth. Maker, you want him. His whole body jolts when he feels that, pinning you harder against the wall, mentally cursing the armour that is preventing him from feeling the softness of your body against his.

He stops kissing you just so he can look at how stunning you are under the moonlight, hot and flustered after that first, heavy session of making out.

"Look at you. So beautiful," he whispers as he cups your face with his hand, the other one still lingering around your waist. Hunter is treating you like the most precious thing in the galaxy now that he can finally have you all for himself. You lean into his gentle touch as he takes in all the features of your face, especially the way your eyes glimmer with admiration and arousal for him.

You look at his deep, dark and expressive brown eyes and the strong, masculine features of his face that make you throb with need. Your hand caresses his cheek, following the lines of his skeleton tattoo and the contour of his chiseled jaw. He observes you as a sweet smile appears on your face, making you look irresistible and drawing his lips closer to yours once again…

"Hey! Where's Hunter?!" you hear Wrecker shout from inside of the tavern, just as your lips are mere inches apart.

You and Hunter both laugh as you resume the kissing. It's like the whole galaxy stops existing. For a soldier who has seen nothing but war, his kisses are to die for. Your tongues twirl in each other's mouths and it's like his greedy lips can't ever get enough of yours. His mouth is hot like a damn furnace as he takes all the time in the galaxy to worship you with his lips, letting his hands wander throughout your body. You're getting soaked already, feeling your arousal slowly dripping down your legs as a throbbing need pulsates between your thighs. You moan in his mouth as you dig your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss is getting deeper and more passionate as you go on.

Hunter's lips start to trail down to your neck, making you sigh deeply as he covers it in kisses. Your scent drives him wild. He can smell your pheromones, feeling you're unmistakably full of desire. He can't resist and just gives a swift lick from the base of your neck to your ear that makes you sharply stifle a gasp, arching your back and tightening your grip on his hair.

"Let's go to the Marauder, shall we?" he rasps in your ear, a voice full of lust that gives you goosebumps.

"Y-yes…" you stutter, feeling light-headed with arousal and being incapable of hiding it.

He offers you his hand as you enter the ship. The two of you cut a clumsy path through the Marauder towards Hunter’s bunk, frequently taking breaks where Hunter desperately pushes you against the cool steel walls of the ship, your arms clinging tight to his shoulders and his face buried in your neck.

"Maker... Take off your armour," you plead as his teeth dig into your delicate skin like a feral beast would do with his prey.

He does, letting each piece fall to the ground as you go on kissing each other, leaving a trail of armour pieces on the floor as you slowly make your way towards his bunk. He looks stunning with just his tight black suit on. You take in the broadness of his shoulders, the way his pectorals stand out, highlighted by the tightness of the suit and grope the strong muscles of his biceps. Oh, fuck. How much do you love a man. Tall, muscular, strong, confident, with dark eyes and a head full of long, wavy hair. A Man.

You moan in his mouth when you feel his thick biceps flexing under your touch. A smile forms on his lips as he feels how much you like this. As his arms wrap around your body, yours go in his hair. Maker, how safe do you feel in his arms. It's such an innate instinct – wanting to be held in the arms of a strong man, surrendering and trusting him, something that usually you would never be permitted to do in your life as a Jedi.

You can feel his erection against your lower belly, straining against his extremely thin black suit. His fingers hook in the hem of your pants, yanking them down over your ass, exposing your drenched cunt as he sits you down in his bunk.

He kneels before you, taking your boots and pants off and spreads your legs, his dark eyes looking into yours as a smirk appears on his face.

"Hunter–" you sigh.

"Wanna get you nice and ready for me, sweetheart," he coos as he starts to kiss your inner thigh.

The vision makes you tremble with lust and your hands helplessly clench into fists in a desperate attempt to grab the material under you to keep you steady. Your legs shake but he keeps them steady in his strong arms. He goes on trailing kisses on your inner thighs without ever stopping looking at you. He's taking his time with it, wanting to enjoy the way your whole body is throbbing with need. Your breathing gets more and more shallow as his mouth gets closer to where you want him the most.

You lift your gaze from Hunter’s dark brown eyes, shutting your eyes for a mere fraction of a second, trying to alleviate the aching need you feel. Hunter chooses that moment to finally give you what you need. With a quick lick to your clit, your whole body jerks into his touch and a whimper escapes from your lips.

Hunter smirks up at you, the corner of his mouth lifting upwards in a smug, satisfied look. Then, he proceeds to bury his face between your legs and masterfully lick your swollen clit. His tongue brings you so much pleasure that your back arches involuntarily, pushing yourself further into his mouth. You moan his name and grab a handful of his long, thick hair. He purrs in your cunt when you entangle your fingers in his hair and you notice how his grip on your legs becomes tighter.

"Oh... Oh fuck!" you exclaim in ecstasy, barely able to form words.

One of his hands releases its grasp on your legs, which he has been using to keep you spread open for him. You throw your head back gasping as he slowly slides two of his thick fingers inside you.

"So tight," he growls with a smirk on his face.

Hunter pumps his fingers inside of you, slowly increasing the rhythm, ensuring that you’re stretched out for him. It is a motion that brings you so much pleasure you wonder how it could possibly get better. Your whole body jerks in pure bliss under his touch. He enjoys looking at you like this, you can see it from how darkened his eyes are with lust.

For a brief second, his fingers and mouth leave your cunt, leaving you devastatingly empty. You watch in awe as Hunter sticks them in his mouth, without breaking eye contact with you. He sucks on his fingers, humming while closing his eyes to savor your taste from places where his tongue can’t reach.

"You taste so good, sweetheart," he rasps as he resumes fucking you with his fingers.

He watches you contort under him, moaning and begging for him to return his skillful mouth between your thighs. Your hips thrust up and down right in front of his face. You are shamelessly fucking yourself on his fingers, inviting him to bury his face back in your folds. You desperately bury your hands in his hair in an attempt to pull him closer.

"Damn, you're so beautiful like this," he says before his mouth goes back exactly where you wanted.

Then, Hunter does something absolutely devastating. While he continues licking your clit, he starts sucking it gently, all as he continues pumping his thick fingers inside of you. Hunter wants to draw an orgasm from you, his actions becoming more and more frantic as you grow closer to your climax. He can feel by the irregular way you breathe and shake that you're close.

"Yes. Yes. Like this. Let go, sweetheart," he encourages you.

It's only a matter of seconds before you come, writhing under him. Your legs are wrapped around his head, squishing it. You scream his name so loud it echoes in the Marauder. Hunter is pleased as he looks at your blissed-out expression and feels your cunt clamping around his fingers. Your back arches as you ride your orgasm, pushing yourself further into his tongue so you can feel him licking you through your orgasm. Hunter purrs into your cunt, loving the way you let go around him. He loves how his face is getting soaked in your arousal, so addicted to the way you taste.

Hunter holds you steady as your orgasm fades out. When you regain your senses, you slowly release your grip on his hair. Only then he props himself up and slowly unzips his suit, showing you the beautiful golden skin underneath. A warm contrast under the black, tight layer.

The dark hairs on his chest are perfectly trimmed, accentuating each of his toned muscles and the tattoos which decorate his thick, masculine body. Your gaze is locked on his hand trailing down his abdomen, his muscles rippling as he approaches the hem of his pants.

You shamelessly look at the bulge in his dark suit, a sight that makes your mouth water. Hunter’s lips curve into a smirk once again, noticing that you like what you see. The smug look on his face makes you throb with need once again, despite the fact that he just gave you an intense orgasm.

He hooks his thumb in the hem of his pants, watching intently for your reaction as he slowly pulls the material down to reveal the trimmed, dark hairs around the base of his thick cock.

Hunter notices the intense way you look at it and hears the whimper you just tried to suppress in your throat. He can feel your heart rate going up. It makes him smirk confidently as he goes on, finally freeing his hard, thick cock. You gulp while looking at it, as he uses the same fingers he had buried in you to cover it in your arousal. He gives it a few, firm strokes to ensure it’s nice and wet for you. The mere vision of it makes you bite your lip to muffle another impatient whimper.

Then he is on you, peeling your shirt away from your quivering body, rejoicing when he can finally touch it and worship it with his mouth. Hunter trails kisses across your collarbones and down towards your breasts. He swirls his tongue around the sensitive flesh there, before softly biting your nipples. You gasp when you feel his erection hard against your cunt. He starts to thrust his hips against yours so his cock can rub against your drenched core, getting it soaked in your juices. Your mind turns completely blank at that, heart thundering in your chest as his hands roam across your body.

Hunter aligns himself to your entrance, groaning as his cock slowly makes its way inside of you. You admire his restraint. You know how much he probably wants to take you with one thrust, but instead he is being so gentle and careful with you, making sure that you are well-adjusted to his size.

He takes your jaw in his hand, looking deep inside your eyes as his thick cock stretches you open. You struggle to keep eye contact with him, unlike earlier when you were flirting with him. Now, your eyes only want to roll backwards. The pleasure you feel as he splits you open is overwhelming your body and senses.

You pathetically try to mumble some incoherencies, but he's quick to shut you up with a kiss. Hunter growls low in his throat when he feels your walls desperately clenching around him, as he buries himself into you to the hilt.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good," he rasps, almost desperately before giving you another wet kiss. Then, he raises his hips only to bury his cock deep inside you, making you moan into his mouth.

"How – how can you feel so fucking good?" he whimpers.

Hunter’s large hands gently cup your face, as he continues placing passionate kisses against your lips while thrusting into you. You notice his kisses become more desperate as he slowly increases the rhythm. As Hunter picks up the pace, he buries his face in your neck, panting low in your ear.

You are certain that he can’t go any faster, before he proves you wrong. He increases the pace to a brutal rhythm, fucking you so hard you start screaming.

"So loud,” he rasps, “They're gonna hear us in the Cantina."

"Then make me shut up," you whisper daringly.

A blaze of lust glimmers in his eyes as you lay down that challenge. Something shifts inside of him as he gives you a feral, animalistic look. Hunter quickly covers your mouth with his hand, showing you his more dominant, commanding side which makes you clamp tightly around his cock.

"Oh, you like this," he smirks, satisfied that this is precisely what you wanted all along.

You nod frantically. There is no use hiding how much this turns you on. Despite how much Hunter shows care towards you, you suspect there is something darker which lingers below the surface. You want to draw it out of him.

"What else do you like, hm?" he coos as he wraps his other hand around your throat, lightly choking you, his thumb rubbing your throat possessively.

The sight of you, looking so vulnerable under him as he can finally dominate you makes him frantic with lust. Gone are the measured thrusts and even rhythm of before. Something feral has overtaken Hunter, a desperate need to claim you. He continues silencing your moans with one hand around your throat and one across your mouth, muffling your gasps as he wrecks you with his cock.

Having Hunter's hand muffling your own moans gives you the opportunity to hear his desperate grunts and pants as they mix with the obscene, squelching sound his cock makes each time he thrusts into you. You close your eyes in bliss, enjoying this moment of pure pleasure.

"Can't keep your eyes open for me, sweetheart? Look at me with those pretty fucking eyes," he growls.

You can't help but whimper at that, at how authoritative he sounds. The Sergeant of The Bad Batch is dominating the fuck out of you. You are a moaning, gasping mess beneath him, unable to think about anything other than how good being furiously pounded by him feels.

"I didn't catch that,” Hunter rasps as he slowly lifts his hand from your mouth. He leans down to put his ear against your mouth “What were you saying, sweetheart?"

"L-let me – fuck!” you gasp, too blissed out to form words.

“Use your words,” Hunter commands, slowing his thrusts down so you can finally speak.

“Let me touch you!" you beg, unable to care about how desperate and pathetic you sound. All you can think about is roaming your hands around the warm, firm expanse of his body.

Hunter smirks, intrigued by your request, only too happy to oblige you. He grabs your hand roughly by the wrist and positions it over his abdomen. You can feel his muscles flexing and contracting under your touch as he thrusts into you. His body is as hard as iron and on fire like a damn furnace, burning with lust.

"Maker…" you whisper.

You let your hand trail up to his firm chest. You grope his pectorals, appreciating the firmness of his muscles. Your cunt clenches around his cock at the sight of your hand against his golden skin. A smirk appears on his face, enjoying what he does to you.

Your hand goes up to his broad shoulder, rubbing over it before you move your hand towards his back. You feel how his muscles strain there with each thrust as he continues pounding into you at a relentless pace. Both of your hands are now caressing his back, feeling every single dimple under your fingertips. Just as you try pulling him close, he starts to give it to you even harder. You scratch your fingernails along his back. You watch in awe as Hunter moans in your mouth at that.

"Could–could fucking smell how much you wanted me earlier. You distracted me the whole time. Couldn't think of anything else besides how good you'd look with my cock inside of you,” he rasps in your neck before biting you, growling wildly as he does. “I was so fucking hard for you, sweetheart," Hunter grunts.

He's so feral for you, fucking you so hard. You can't even mumble a response.

"Smell so good – so fucking good–" he whispers in your ear.

"D-don't s–stop," you mumble in your cockdrunk delirium.

"I can't, sweetheart. This cunt's all I ever wanted,” he growls, “Gonna make you mine. Mine."

"Oh, fuck… Yes," you pant as he props himself up, kneeling in front of you without stopping that devastating rhythm for even half a second.

He looks at your body, at the way your boobs bounce with each thrust as he gives it go you even harder, holding on tight to your legs, using them as leverage to bury himself even deeper inside of you. Seeing him like this makes you remember just how badly you wanted to ride his cock earlier.

"Hunter. Hunter. I want to ride you," you whimper.

"Is that an order, Commander?"

"Y–yes. Yes. Order. S–s-sergeant," you mindlessly go on as he keeps thrusting his cock inside of you.

The thought of you bouncing on his cock makes him throb. In an instant, Hunter lifts you in his arms as if you were weightless and makes you straddle him. He sits with his back against the wall of the bunk. His hands are on your waist and you immediately start rocking your hips up and down, giving into your fantasy from earlier.

"Such a good soldier… So good at following orders," you whisper against his lips.

"Yeah… Sometimes," he smirks before gripping your hair and stealing another wet, hot kiss that makes you melt into him even further.

Your head rolls back in pleasure at the way his cock feels from this position. It's devastating, hitting something deep within you. You almost lose yourself in that feeling, but Hunter won’t allow you to. Even though you are on top of him, Hunter is quick to remind you who’s in charge as he takes your jaw in his hand.

"Eyes on me," he orders firmly.

"Yes, Sergeant," you moan.

You swear you feel him throbbing and choke a grunt when he hears the sensual way you pronounce his title. Clearly, using his rank in this context has done something to Hunter. He moves his thumb between your lips and you suck it provocatively, never stopping yourself from meeting his gaze. Hunter’s pupils widen at the sinful way your lips envelop his finger and your tongue gently touches it. His eyes take into your sensual, precious beauty, before bringing you to him and kissing you again.

Your bodies are damp in sweat and rubbing against one another. Your nipples deliciously catch against his hairy, broad chest. You continue moaning into each other's mouths; your tongues never stop touching.

"Hunter, I'm gonna come–" you whimper.

"Hold it for me, sweetheart," he rasps in a sweet, yet dark voice, having the opposite effect from what he intended.

"Please, I want to come on your cock," you plead desperately.

"Not yet," he smirks.

Hunter grabs your hips and guides your movements so that your clit starts to rub against his pelvis. You let out a loud moan as you hold on to him tighter, digging your nails in his shoulders.

"I can't hold it!" you scream with your eyes shut.

He grabs your chin in his hand, clearly uninterested in your desperate appeals.

"Look at me," he says firmly as you open your eyes. Your vision is too blurry to focus on him but you try nonetheless.

"Now come for me, sweetheart," he rasps darkly.

You obey his order and come hard around his cock. An overwhelming, intense wave of pleasure starts at your core and completely takes over your body. You’re wrecked by uncontrollable shakes as Hunter holds you in his strong arms. You scream and pant as you ride your high. Your eyes roll backwards while Hunter focuses on how beautiful you look when you lose control. Especially when he is the one responsible for it.

Hunter feels your heart running in your chest and every single contraction of your muscles around his cock. The unmistakable, heady scent of sex that fills the Marauder drives him insane, making him burst inside of you. He grunts loudly as he fills you up with his load, holding you tight in his grasp.

You moan in each other's mouths, your forehead leaning on his as you look into each other’s eyes. You never leave each other’s gaze as you both give into the highest of pleasure.

As you come down from your high, your rhythm slows down until it stops completely. Your bodies are intertwined like vines, naked and sweaty as you catch breath in each other’s embrace.

You really do make a great team, after all.

Fanarts: Hunter's back + Shirtless Hunter by @mesvi Hello handsome by @corukant Wet Hunter by @iszapizza Hunter under the shower by @shakall Hunter and his vibroknife by @ve-ti-ver Hunter under the shower by @cloned-eyes Hunter taking off his shirt + Tech by @constant-brain-fog Hunter taking a shower by kaijurave (on twitter/x)

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aynavaano · 13 days

Text

Beautifully blind

Tech x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 4.6k

Summary:

Ever since you joined the Bad Batch you had your eyes on Tech, he is everything you could possibly want, soft, intelligent, caring but also strong and protective. You’ve been flirting with him for a while without any response and gave up thinking he is just not interested in you. But one day when you are left alone working on one of his modifications on the Marauder together it turns out the whole time you were speaking a language he didn’t understand.

Notes:

I really really miss Tech in S3 so I wanted to write some sweet soft smut with him. This work is inspired by “The beginners guid to Osculation” but I took things a bit further…

It’ a first time sex fic Tech x F!reader. Reader is experienced and in love with him. There is fingering, oral (f and m recieving) and unprotected sex but also a lot of fluff. It’s my first time writing Tech and a hope he is not too OOC.

You and Tech are standing in the Cockpit of the Marauder, fiddling with some cables, hanging from a wall panel, together just as Crosshair, Wrecker, and Hunter prepare for another supply run. It's been a few rotations since your arrival here, the Marauder carefully concealed in a secluded forestry patch a few klicks away from the next settlement. During this time, you've managed some much needed repairs and some of Techs planned modifications, as well as restocking on supplies. While the last supply run was a joint effort, today you and Tech decided to remain on the ship finishing his latest project and preparing for your departure, as there's little left to gather from the nearby town. Just when they're about to leave you overhear Crosshair boast to his brothers about his plans to fuck the girl from the market again, telling them they don’t need to wait for him on the way back because he’s planning to take his sweet time with her, a smug grin adorning his face, as always and a toothpick dangling in the corner of his mouth. As they make their way out Wrecker pats Crosshairs shoulder jolting him a step forward and they all burst into laughter, leaving you and Tech alone in the cockpit.

You caught a fleeting glimpse of disappointment, perhaps even a hint of sadness, in Tech's eyes at Crosshairs words and try not to think about it too much, but you can’t ignore it, you care too much about him. After silently working alongside him for a while, handing him tools and lending a hand you approach him cautiously. "Tech," you start, "I couldn't help but notice your reaction to Crosshair talking about the girl from the market. Were you... also into her?"

"What brought you to that conclusion?" he asks hesitantly, tilting his head towards you, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

"I saw your face when Crosshair mentioned her, you seemed disappointed or even sad," you say, breaking the uncomfortable silence that hung between you for a moment. He doesn't respond immediately, the weight of your observation sinking in.

To ease the tension, you quickly add, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business," before turning back to continue working on the panel. After a moment, Tech sighs and let’s his arms sink down, his gaze fixed on a distant point as he gathers his thoughts.

"It's not about that particular girl," he begins, his voice tinged with vulnerability, "but rather that I have never experienced the kind of intimacy Crosshair was referring to." He pauses, struggling to articulate his feelings. "It's always my brothers that succeed in getting a woman because it is extremely difficult for me to understand the subtle signs and the body language of someone I am attracted to, even if I've did a lot of research about the topic. I have accepted it but sometimes, when they brag about their experiences it’s difficult for me"

His confession catches you off guard, and you look at him with wide eyes, trying to comprehend his revelation. "Are you saying you've never been with someone... in that way?" you ask, your voice filled with disbelief.

Tech nods solemnly. "Correct, that's exactly what I said," he confirms. The realization hits you like a blaster shot to your guts – the handsome, beautiful man before you, that you’ve been admiring for such a long time, has seemingly never had the chance to experience any kind of sexual activities, and has accepted it as his fate.

"You're telling me you're a virgin?" you blurt out, startled by the revelation.

"I don't particularly like that word, but yes, that is the proper term that would apply to me," Tech responds, his expression vulnerable yet resolute. "However, to be precise, there was one incident where my brothers tried to pair me off with a woman, but I stopped it immediately, it felt extremely uncomfortable." He pauses, reflecting on his research. "For some people, it seems to be pleasant to have casual sexual encounters, while others prefer to have an emotional connection to their sexual partner. I think the latter applies to me, it needs to be with someone I know, someone I feel safe with, and am more than just attracted to in a physical way." He admit, his vulnerability shining through as he reveals, "Someone like you," the last bit of his sentence, slipping from his lips before his mind can stop him.

You almost choke on your breath, caught off guard by Tech's unexpected confession, but a giggle escapes your lips nonetheless. However, the lighthearted moment is quickly replaced by a look of embarrassment on his face. He tries to compose himself, his words stumbling out as he apologizes, "I'm… sorry,… I shouldn't have said that. Please don't ridicule me for it. I may process moments and thoughts differently, but it does not mean that I feel any less than you." He hesitates before continuing, "You don't have to say anything. I know I would never have a chance with you,"

"Oh Tech," you respond softly, reaching out to gently touch his arm. "I've not been laughing at you. I just couldn't grasp what you were saying, and how beautifully blind we both seem to be. I've been into you since forever, literally since I became part of the crew, and I've been trying to flirt with you for months, but I thought you were just not interested in me, so I gave up and let you be, because I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

Tech's eyes widen in surprise at your confession. "I... I thought you were... maybe interested in Wrecker because you recently spent so much time together," he admits, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Oh, but that's just because Hunter wanted me to learn more about explosives, that's why, you know how bad I am with handling that kind of stuff," you explain, hoping to clear up any misunderstandings.

"Undoubtedly I see why Hunter ordered that, you almost killed us all on Onderon with that thermal detonator. I’m relieved to know you’re taking care of it” he says, adjusting his goggles to have a better look at you. You giggle gazing up at him, almost loosing yourself in his beautiful brown eyes.

“The thought never crossed my mind that someone like you would be attracted to me like that," Tech confesses, his tone tinged with self-doubt. "While I exceed my brothers in many aspects, this is a particular field where I never stood a chance against them. I see the signs, but I cannot interpret them. I observed that you've come closer to me, you are touching my arm and that your face has slightly reddened, indicating an accelerated heartbeat, but I don't know how to proceed with that information."

"Tech... stop talking," you hesitantly interject, inching a little closer to him and seeking his gaze. "Do you want to kiss me?"

Your heart races as you feel the tension building between you, his eyes locking onto yours, a sense of understanding flickering over his features.

"Yes, I would very much like that," he responds earnestly, his voice filled with anticipation. "I am positive that you already know that I am recording everything, but I want your consent if I keep recording. Will you let me?" he adds slightly nervous.

You nod in agreement, giving him the permission he seeks.

"Do you want me to kiss you, or do you want to begin?" you inquire, seeking his preference.

He pauses for a moment before expressing his desire for you to initiate the kiss and guide him.

With a soft smile, glancing up at him seeking his gaze you lean in and wrap your arms around his neck. Gently, you pull his head slightly down towards you, tilting yours upwards, eyes shut, closing the gap between your lips. It's a soft kiss, yet filled with a hunger, hoping to leave him wanting more. His lips are incredibly soft and your body starts to tingle a bit by the realization that you are really kissing Tech, it’s not another one of your daydreams, he is right here in your arms.

He doesn’t respond to the kiss, but he allows you to kiss him for a little bit longer and when you part, you notice his dilated pupils and feel the rapid beat of his heart against his chest. ”How did that feel?” you whisper, as your eyes meet, arms still wrapped around him.

"I very much enjoy how my body reacts to you, unfamiliar but very pleasant," he admits, his voice tinged with awe and slightly out of breath.

"Do you want more?" you offer selfishly, glancing up at him with a smile. He nods eagerly in response.

Encouraged, you kiss him again, now with a bit more passion. And this time he instantly responds, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer, his lips eagerly moving against yours. You brush your tongue against his lower lip and he opens up letting you in. You can barely control yourself anymore and when your tongues meet you feel the heat rising in your body, pooling between your legs. “Tech..” you moan softly, not parting the kiss.

Suddenly, he picks you up maneuvering you to the other side of the cockpit and onto the control panel of the Marauder. You instinctively wrap your legs around him, feeling the subtle pressure of his growing arousal against you. The intensity of the moment causes him to break the kiss, gasping for air as he tries to compose himself.

You gently cup his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, and ask, “Do you want to try more than just kissing?” His eyes flicker with uncertainty, and you try to voice it more clearly, “Do you want to have sex with me Tech?”

His response is eager, almost breathless, as he nods and replies, “Yes, I want.”

With a sense of anticipation coursing through you, you don’t wait any longer an swiftly discard your shirt, revealing the contours of your body to him. His gaze lingers, wide-eyed, on your bare chest, and you feel a rush of excitement at his reaction. “Touch me,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath, inviting him to explore you further.

He hesitates, his hand trembling slightly as he reaches out, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheek before trailing down to your chest. As his fingers gently slide over your nipple, a soft gasp escapes your lips, eliciting a smile from him. “I very much like that sound,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a hint of wonder.

With a tentative question in his eyes, he asks, “Can I kiss you there?” You nod in response, a mixture of anticipation and desire coursing through you. Slowly, he leans in, his lips brushing against your skin as he trails soft kisses down your neck, lingering at the curve of your breast. Each touch sends shivers down your spine, and you can't help but let out a few more soft moans, encouraging him to continue. He slowly gets more courageous exploring you and begins to suck one of you hardened nipples into his mouth eliciting even more gasps and moans from you. It feels like he is enjoying to test what kind of sounds he can get out of you.

Trying not to break from his touch you wiggle yourself out of your pants, leaving you clad only in your little satin panties, grateful that you put one of the nicer ones on this morning. His eyes widen with a mixture of excitement and nervousness as he takes in the sight of you before him, his gaze roaming over your exposed skin, drinking in every curve and contour.

“Explore my body, Tech,” you urge him, your voice filled with longing. His fingers trace over your skin, trailing along the inside of your thighs, hesitating slightly as they brush over the soaked fabric of your panties, already dampened by your arousal. "I studied some publications about female arousal," he begins, his voice laced with curiosity, "telling from the level of wetness I assume you enjoy this a lot. Is it because you haven’t been with someone in a while? I understood that once you tried and enjoyed sexual activities, it can become something of a need?"

A soft chuckle escapes your lips at his earnestness, and you reply, "It’s not because I need it, Tech. It’s because I want it, because I want you. Your touch and your kisses caused that."

"Interesting," he remarks, his tone thoughtful as if he's processing the information. At your instruction, he carefully removes your panties, his excitement undeniable as he takes in the sight of you naked body before him. His gaze roams over you, exploring every inch of your nakedness, before he drops to his knees to get a better view.

"Touch me," you encourage him, leaning over the control panel, pressing a button to seal the entrance to the cockpit, just in case the others come back earlier than expected. With eager anticipation, he trails his fingers over your slick folds, the slightest touch sending shivers of pleasure through you. He slides one finger between your outer lips, gently parting them, his movements cautious yet purposeful, and he asks, "Is that ok?"

"You don’t have to ask for my consent anymore, Tech," you reassure him, your desire evident in your voice. "I want this. I want you."

With that assurance, he very carefully begins to slide a finger into you, and you moan softly at the sensation, encouraging him to continue. Another finger follows suit, and he begins to move hesitantly, exploring the depths of your warm core. It feels incredible, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you entirely.

So many months you had spent fantasizing about something like this, but after he didn’t react to your flirting attempts you gave up and now you are here, completely naked, spread all over the control panel, with Tech between your legs and his fingers pushing into you.

He curls his fingers up, finding that sweet, soft spot that sends waves of extra strong pleasure coursing through your body and you can't help but cry out his name. His touch is intoxicating, each movement bringing you closer to the edge of an orgasm.

Feeling yourself on the brink, you gasp, "Tech, I won’t last long if you keep doing that." He hesitates for a moment, unsure what to do, but you encourage him to continue. "No, it’s good. I just… you will make me cum very quickly if you keep doing that," you assure him, your voice filled with desire.

Surprised but delighted by your response, Tech eagerly returns to his attention to your core. "Oh, I would love to give you an orgasm if you let me," he admits, his enthusiasm undeniable. You nod “Please” and with your consent, he thrust back into you, his fingers moving with purpose and determination.

Leaning in closer, he focuses his attention on your clit, his tongue adding a new dimension to the pleasure. It's a revelation, the intensity building with each thrust of his fingers, you cant believe he’s never done that before, but then again he is the man that knows everything.

You feel your body tensing up already and it takes only a few more flicks of his tongue against your clit before you cum. Stars shatter before your eyes and it feels incredibly good to ride out your orgasm on his fingers, your body trembling with the force of your release. You moan his name, lost in the pleasure pulsing through you, your head thrown back, eyes rolling in bliss.

Looking up at you in awe, Tech savors the sight before him. He's completely captivated by the way your body responds to his touch, determined not to miss a single moment of it.

After you slowly descend from the heights of your orgasm, he carefully slides his finger out of you and rises to his feet, standing before you. You lean up and press your lips to his. "Do you want me to explore your body?" you inquire, and he eagerly nods in response. You gracefully slip from the control panels, your eyes locked on him as he swiftly sheds his armor with practiced hands. When he's down to the bottom of his blacks, you gently guide him backward into the pilot's seat, a silent invitation for him to surrender to your touch.

You approach him with a mix of excitement and tenderness, fully aware that this is his first experience and taking care not to overwhelm him. You position yourself between his legs, one hand trailing over his chest and you leave a few heated kisses on his neck before you kneel down, your eyes lock with his, offering reassurance. "Relax, Tech. Let me take care of you," you say softly.

With a slow and deliberate hand, you begin to undo his pants, revealing his evident arousal. Your gaze flickers to his cock, noting its impressive length and girth, feeling a surge of desire as you prepare to pleasure him. Slowly taking him into your mouth, you start with gentle movements, savoring the taste of him as you explore each inch of his beautiful thick cock.

Tech's breath catches in his throat as you work him, his fingers tightening on the armrests. "Do you like how it feels?" you murmur, your voice a soft hum against his sensitive skin. He manages to nod, his expression a mix of pleasure and wonder as you continue.

Adjusting your pace, you find a rhythm that suits him, teasing and tantalizing as you build his arousal. With each movement, you feel him growing harder beneath your touch, his hips shifting instinctively to meet your mouth. "I…I’m close," he gasps, his voice strained with desire.

Despite the temptation to push him over the edge just now and see his beautiful brown eyes flutter, you hold back, knowing that you want to give him more. With a loving smile, you ease off, allowing him a moment to catch his breath. "Not yet," you whisper, your voice laced with anticipation. “I would like to ride you, do you want that?”

Tech's eyes widen with surprise and need as he understands what you want to do. With a hungry look in his eyes, he nods eagerly.

You rise from your knees, moving with purpose as you straddle his lap, positioning yourself above him. With a delicate touch, you guide his throbbing cock to the entrance of your slick, wet core, feeling the anticipation building between you. The pressure of his length against you already sends shivers down your spine, aching with desire for more. "Are you ready?" you whisper, your breath hot against his ear as you pepper his neck with soft kisses. Unable to speak, Tech nods eagerly, his eyes filled with longing as he awaits your next move.

As you lower yourself onto him, a wave of pleasure washes over you, his thick cock stretching you in all the right ways. You moan with satisfaction, relishing in the sensation of being filled by him. Tech's heartbeat quickens beneath you, his shallow breaths echoing the intensity of the moment. "Breathe, Tech," you murmur, planting tender kisses along his jawline, allowing him a moment to adjust to the feeling of being inside you.

With a slow, deliberate pace, you begin to move, rising and falling on his length, each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through both of you. Tech's composed facade begins to crack, his control slipping away as he succumbs to the ecstasy of your union. You enjoy to see him slowly coming undone in front of you. Tech, who is always in control, always composed is coming undone. And you love that you can do that to him.

As you increase your rhythm, Tech's hands find hold on your waist, his touch grounding you as you ride him. You brace yourself against his shoulders, granting him a beautiful view of your bouncing breasts right before his face, fueling his desire even further. You feel him tensing up, his cock pressing even harder against your walls with every move. “It’s okay Tech” you reassure him, “cum inside me”urging him to let go and release within you.

You lean down to leave a few kisses and gentle bites along his neck, increasing your pace further and it doesn’t take long until he succumbs to the overwhelming pleasure, his cock pulsating within you as he spills his warm cum deep inside your core. The sensation of him filling you up is so overwhelmingly good it triggers another orgasm, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. You cry out his name as you clench around him, the intensity of your orgasm echoing his own. He looks at you in awe by the sensation of your pussy tightening around his cock. Collapsing onto his chest, you both bask in the aftermath, your bodies entwined and slick with sweat, lost in the euphoria of your connection.

Tech catches his breath first, his chest rising and falling as he composes himself. "I would enjoy doing that again sometime," he admits, his voice filled with a hint of longing but also uncertainty.

You smile warmly, reassurance in your eyes as you reply, "Whenever you want, Tech. I'm yours." Leaning in, you press your lips against his, a soft and tender kiss filled with promise. “I love you,” you whisper, your words carrying the weight of your affection.

As his softened cock slowly begins to slip out of you, you feel his warm cum dripping from your core onto the seat beneath you. "I should clean that up before we make a mess here," you remark, a playful glint in your eyes as you glance down at the evidence of your shared passion.

Tech nods in agreement, his gaze lingering on you as he gestures towards the fresher. "Go on. I'll take care of the cockpit," he offers, his tone gentle yet determined, showing his willingness to share the responsibilities.

Before you can leave, he pulls you close, his lips capturing yours in a deep and passionate kiss. "Thank you," he murmurs against your lips, his gratitude evident in his touch as he expresses his appreciation for your connection.

"For what?" you wonder, eager to understand the depth of his emotions.

"For communicating with me in a way that I understand," he explains, his words resonating with sincerity as he acknowledges the significance of your connection and the efforts you've made to bridge any gaps in understanding.

With a smile and a soft kiss, you accept his gesture, making your way to the fresher, mindful not to leave a trail of cum behind as you prepare to clean up. As you go, you're filled with a sense of contentment, knowing that despite any challenges, you and Tech have found a way to connect deeply, both physically and emotionally.

When you tap out of the fresher, all cleaned up, clothes back on, you are relieved to see that the others seemingly still haven’t returned, giving you and Tech a little more time together. Glancing over at the cockpit, you notice it looks nice and clean, as if nothing had happened. Satisfied, you step outside the Marauder and find Tech sitting in the low grass, his datapad in hand and connected to his ears. He smiles at you, and you can't help but return the smile as you approach him.

"What are you doing?" you inquire, curiosity lacing your tone.

"I'm listening to the sounds you made," he responds, a happy glance in his eyes. Your cheeks flush at his words, and he chuckles softly. "I enjoy this very much, it's already my favorite recording."

He pulls you in for a kiss, and you melt into his embrace, feeling a sense of warmth and affection wash over you. You make yourself comfortable in the grass next to him and he hands you a cup of fresh caff, asking if you feel good.

"Haven’t felt so good in a while…and thank you for cleaning up the cockpit," you express your gratitude, but a hint of worry creeps into your voice. "But I guess that Hunter will smell it anyway. He can smell a Bantha ten klicks against the wind."

Tech laughs, reassuring you. "That is precisely right, but don't worry. I spilled some caff to cover up the scent for now. However, we will need to tell them eventually that we…we…”

“…had sex in Hunters ship and will continue to do so?” you offer to finish the sentence with a wide grin on your face.

“That we are engaging in a romantic relationship. And that is MY ship" he corrects you. “But I fear their response to this news will not be that elated at first.”

You furrow your brows in concern, prompting him to explain further. "Why do you think your brothers won't be happy for you, Tech?"

He adjusts his goggles, his expression thoughtful. "Because shortly after you became part of our crew, they made a bet on who would get… who would succeed in having sex with you first. And the bet was not on me. And not on a relationship either, rather on a more... casual encounter."

"Who was it?" you ask, curious to know the outcome.

Tech sighs, his gaze dropping momentarily. "On Crosshair. It was on Crosshair. I bet on him too. Statistically, he has the highest success rate, so it was a safe bet... I thought."

You chuckle softly, realizing the implications, of course it was Crosshair. "Well, that will dent his ego a bit, but he'll survive it," you laugh, needless to say Crosshair is a handsome man with an aura that is best described as intense but he’s just not your type, you prefer soft and nerdy but lethal, and sometimes a bit unhinged, just like the beautiful man sitting beside you.

Feeling a sense of content wash over you, you happily lean into Tech, resting your head on his chest as you revel in the comfort and security of his embrace.

Shouldn't we finish the modification we abandoned?" you inquire, gazing up at the sky.

"I would much rather enjoy the time with you out here," Tech responds, his voice filled with warmth. "It is not often that we are on a planet where the atmosphere is breathable, meteorological conditions are predominantly pleasant, and there is no extremely hostile wildlife that we have to pay attention to. Besides, with your help, I can quickly finish the modification later. We will need to learn to enjoy the moments we get together without my brothers, as they will be scarce."

You gaze up at him in awe, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over you as you cuddle closer to him. "Well,if we have time, then tell me everything you know about those little fuzzy creatures up there jumping around in the trees," you say, pointing towards the playful fury animals in the distance.

He smiles down at you, his eyes reflecting fondness. "Gladly," he responds, before leaning in to give you the softest, most loving kiss.

As he begins to speak, his voice takes on the tone of a database, filled with information about the local wildlife. You've always loved animals and listening to Tech talking for hours about the local wildlife and its possible dangers or benefits during missions has fascinated you each time. But now, wrapped in his arms, experiencing this as private lecture and stealing a few kisses in between is the best feeling in the galaxy

#the bad batch #star wars #tbb #tbb tech #bad batch fanfic #tbb fanfiction #tech x reader #tech x you

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oftincturedwords · 1 year

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Title: Delicate Operation Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Star Wars : The Bad Batch / Star Wars : The Clone Wars Rating: T+ Chapter Warnings: ¡Spoilers! Blood , Descriptions of Falling , Descriptions of Pain , Descriptions of Injury , Near Drowning Experience , Coughing , etc. Characters: Tech , Mentioned Wrecker , Mentioned Omega Additional Tags: Clone Trooper Tech Lives , Fix-It , Post Canon Fix-it , Physical Hurt , etc. Timeline: Set during Star Wars : The Bad Batch s02e16 ( Plan 99 ) ; on Eriadu after Tech shoots the connexion cable Pairings: Gen. None. Word Count: 4001 Summary: Crosshair had got the message through, he was certain of it. Even though he wasn't able to say the Empire was after the kid still, he had sent the transmission of Plan 88. To go underground. To hide. But they hadn't listened. He should have known they wouldn't have listened to him. Now they all had to live with the consequences. Or, How the rest of the Batch rescue Crosshair and Omega whilst thinking Tech is dead, but he isn't. A/N: Now here's at the beginning of all this mess canon handed us , with Tech falling on Eriadu & nOT DYING !! I have no beta this all mistakes are mine. Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Star War : The Clone Wars & Star Wars : The Bad Batch. Neither am I associated with Lucasfilms , Disney+ , nor any of the actors who portray these characters. I make no money off any of my stories , this is purely for entertainment purposes. Read On : ao3 | under the cut part one

Tech had seconds.

That much was glaringly obvious, for the maths was simple and if this didn't work, then at least he knew exactly how long it would take to hit the ground. There always was a small comfort in knowledge, especially in knowing when precisely he would meet his end. It was always a possibility with how he was created, then with the war, and now with living as mercenaries for hire the last ten months, thus it was never a factor that wasn't present. But the exact way that death would come? That was always an unknown.

There were possibilities that were more likely than the rest. A blaster bolt, for example, had the highest probability, whereas dying via old age hadn't ever been considered by him… That was until they had come to Pabu.

Their few weeks stationed themselves there was the first time Tech had allowed his thoughts to wander towards the future that ended with them all safe and content without need for blasters or combat. Although he wasn't naive enough to believe they would truly settle down without Crosshair, or when Echo was fighting against the Empire with Rex. It had been when the possibilities of seeing any age past his prime rose. The numbers had become notable then rather than negligible.

Which had only added to his innate motivation to not simply go out without fighting against it.

With the echoing notes of Wrecker’s scream when he fell still ringing about his ears, no less muted by the rushing of the wind nor the harshness of each breath he took. The higher pitched cries that had belonged to Omega calling out his name had dissipated about the air at his descent down, through the layers of fog-like clouds and he knew he didn't have much time to act. Despite the depth of this valley, gravity would always prove a victor.

Thus as he flipped over in the air, he reached down to unlatch the accession cable attached to his belt in order to press the release on the hook and remount the base back onto his DC-17 whilst the line retracted. It whipped wildly as it returned, but Tech could see the tops of the trees very near in his peripheral now so he didn't let up.

Attempting instead to turn against the currents pressing up on his and racing past, to have his front facing the drop rather than his back or feet first. Working to spread his legs outwards along with his arms in a small effort to widened his surface area and slow his drop without hampering the lines’ return, it lashed against the plastoid of his reebrace when it wildly caught in an updraft before the recoiling system dragged it away as it kept winding it back up.

Level now with the very tips of the tall pines that lined the mountainous valley Tech twisted about in that very moment to fire off the cable the moment it gave the subtle jolt within his hand signifying the line was finally set and ready. Usually an audible click accompanied the small movement, but it was lost to the fierce whooshing of the wind.

Aiming took hardly a fraction of a moment, nearing the upper branches of the trees directly below him provided plenty of targets and he fired.

The line caught, sticking fast on the trunk of the nearest pine just above a bough and he fell for only a microsecond more before it snapped taut with such a swiftness that Tech was certain he knew now what a whip must feel like when it's cracked.

He felt the abrupt halt to his descent, then the immediately reversed his downward motion to yank him bodily towards the side. His muscles strained right along with every ligament and tendon within his lithe frame at the suddenness of the change as they were pulled against with a viving force than the one he had been pullmetted towards the rocky ground with.

A grunt involuntarily left his lips as he grappled with the tethering line, his gloves being vehemently bitten into despite their reinforced quality and he could feel the pressure against the flesh beneath. Far less protected by callouses than they should have given his profession, but all clones were used to wearing gloves when doing most activities thus they afforded more protection than if he were barehanded.

Yet steadfast his grip remained upon his decee that connected him to the ascension line, or so he had strove to keep ahold of it, but his trajectory had now slung him through the clusters of needles that grew from the thin branches of the emergent layer of trees. The pine needles lashed against his armour and in every in-between of the plastoid pieces, thankfully the fabric of his modified blacks protected him from any true harm they could inflict. Although, he felt the beginnings of the stings of it due to the repeated hits, it was negligible.

And it was nothing compared to when the middle of the line caught fast on a branch above him and wrenched him towards the left, directly into the thick of the forest rather than the screed ravine that split through the expanse of greenery he had been falling towards.

Feeling his eyes widened against his will, Tech had only a split second to brace himself before he impacted the dense layer of the lower canopy and upper midstory. He had split second to hope his decision to hang onto the line rather than let go and attempt to catch his fall on a random branch would prove more beneficial, but he figured that his chances were near the same no matter his next choice.

As usual, Tech hadn't been wrong, for he only managed to keep his grip on his blaster through the first impact of his left leg to a branch then another glancing off his right hip before the next branch tangled the line to spanner it from his hands and send him falling chest first into the bough in front of him.

Audibly he heard the alloy of his cuirass crack against the unforgiving wood as the collision knocked the breath from his lungs, eliciting a choked noise from the back of his throat even as his arms sought to grasp onto the thin twig-like branches that sprouted from the main limb, but it was futile.

His armour scraped against the rough bark, it tugged at the fibres of his gloves, yet it did little to assist him in keeping ahold of it. For so violently deprived of oxygen his muscles suddenly were as he fought to draw a full breath combined with the pain of slicing through his midsection had him slipping from his precarious perch. And down he was falling again.

With no line to tether him, nor any secondary ascension cable to attach to his remaining DC-17, there was even less he could do for himself than before.

Crashing down through several more sprigs and branches, Tech scrabbled to find a handhold to halt his descent. Feeling each crash batter against his frame, the solidness of the pinewood yielded none to the plastoid of his armour. Repeated strikes weakened it ever still, and he felt more than one portion of it crack through completely whilst the material of his gloves ripped through to bloody his fingertips in his attempts to grasp onto the branches. Needles and chipped bark fell in clumps with him.

At the mercy of gravity, no matter how much he attempted to latch onto and cling to the branches that he fell against and past, he was falling too quickly. Every modicum of a grip or chance he received was torn from his grasp.

And any further effort ended when he felt his helmet strike against one, hitting it with enough force to cloud his vision at a wave of dizziness. The underside of his bucket must have caught on the twiggy offshoots of the branches because he felt it sharply tugged partway up his face, obscuring his whirlwinded view all the more.

Darkening it completely when the catch jolted his head forwards, pulling at the muscles of his neck and smacking his now only partially protected head into something solid that rammed his forehead into the lower portion of helmet with a distinct splitting crunch. The last thing he felt was a warm wetness sluice down his face before all else was swallowed up into nothingness.

— & .. ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴅ ʙᴀᴛᴄʜ .. & —

Awakening without being able to draw breath, coughing and choking upon an influx of liquid had Tech panicking for the briefest of moments. Instinctively he flung his arms outwards as his eyes flew open, only to be greeted by the blurry blue-green hued darkness of being underwater and that at least had his mind settling even as his lungs ached for air and the urge to cough nearly had him opening his mouth to do just that.

Immediately he moved his arms in motion to swim, heedless of the sharp aching he felt in his limbs and the rest of his frame, pushing against the flowing water in an attempt to reach the surface before reflexive instinct to breath won out over his strength of will. There was no bottom he could feel when he kicked out with his legs, having to clench his jaw tight against the pain that flared at the action, but there was a pulling current to the water which he distantly categorised as a river judging by its depth and power behind the tide.

At the mercy of the river’s current, he felt himself dragged further down despite his endeavours to kick and swim his way above the water. But in this it offered him a reprieve, for he felt his boots hit something solid and he shoved off of it instantly, worried the flow would pull him away before he could utilise this stroke of luck. Whether it had been a boulder or the bottom of the riverbed, Tech wasn't certain but it was enough to allow him the leverage against the undertow to break the surface.

He came up coughing, every fibre of his chest afire from the lack of oxygen and from the water he had inhaled earlier when he had awoken underwater. Striving to keep his head up in spite of being wracked with hacking coughs and the urge to heave at the back of his throat, his sole focus at present was consumed with clearing his lungs and staying above the waterline.

However, he knew he could simply float downstream for long, the risk of another undercurrent dragging him under or his endurance failing before he could reach shore was too great. Drowning was still a possibility if he didn't act fast, already Tech could feel the weakness of his limbs from the injuries he sustained in the fall as well as the exertion of swimming beginning to fatigue his abused muscles.

Struggling not to give into another coughing spell, Tech tried to keep each breath shallow yet even to ensure he didn't trigger the itch at the back of his throat anymore, but was thwarted by a dip in the river. It plunged him underwater again before he could take a breath in, submerging him entirely for a handful of moments then spitting him above the water once more as the current shifted abruptly around the large rocks beneath its surface.

Tech sputtered, gasping and coughing in equal measure to clear his throat and sinuses. Succeeding in calming his diaphragms attempts to wring his lungs of every ounce of moisture he had inhaled long enough to draw a breath, then another, only to have the air punched from his chest when the torrent slammed him back first into a rock that protruded up from below.

The swift current having swelled to a frothing white, not rapids quite yet but relentless in their speed and influence. Nearly falling beneath the surface again, Tech reflexively flung out his arms in an attempt to keep afloat as he was whirled sideways by the pressing force of water. His breath wheezed, every inhale and exhale was faint, grating against his inflamed throat up from his battered torso.

Unable to dispel with the urge to cough, near involuntary it had become by the amount of water he inadvertently aspirated, the paroxysm wracked through his frame to expel the water from within. Near heaving at this point since ensuring his mouth and make didn't sink below the water was impossible, no matter how much he worked to swim against the current.

There was no lull afforded to him though as his legs struck a rock hidden just underneath the aerated roiling of the water, spinning him boldly around to face upstream then sending him back about when his shoulder collided with another rock. Under he went again, snatched from the surface by a riptide and held beneath for the longest spell.

No matter how much he fought against it, swimming at an angle with every ounce of energy and strength he held, it didn't release its grip upon him. Not until he felt himself slammed into a cluster of rocks that sprouted up from the water higher than the rest. The pressure from the current held him in place, cradled with the cleft between them. Pinned between the force of the water and the reintence of the stone, held suspended in a breathless darkness before the equally obstinate water of the river shoved him onwards downstream.

Meeting a ruffling of the waters, one where the craggy riverbottom, diffused with more rocks and boulders rather than any shale or sediment, agitated the singular direction of the river’s flow and he was able to break through the surface once again. More so pushed towards it in a swirling rush of eddied water.

Ragged was the gasp Tech gave, reflexive and desperate it was. Followed by a series of harsh coughs in between sporadic gulps of air that he forced to shorten due to it triggering more coughing. Deliberate and measured, he kept count in his head whilst he aimed to reorientate himself.

Near blind from the water streaming into his eyes from his wet hair and that splashed over his face from the rapidness and sheer fierceness that the river splashed up from the spatterings of rocks that dotted through its expanse, even though the it had widened here thus slowed its main current, it was still fast moving and roiled due to the erracticly set rocks beneath the surface, aided by the downwards slope it travelled.

Tech blinked several times against the blurriness in hopes to help clear his eyesight and risked reaching a hand up to brush against the lenses of his goggles, but before he could complete the action it registered that his goggles weren't over his eyes as they usually were.

The normal yellow hue his world normally held due to their tinting was entirely absent as was the corrective nature of the lenses within, which would account for the majority of the fuzziness to his sight.

Either they had been lost when he had fallen through the trees or had been swept away by the river along with the protection of his helmet, he didn't know which, but dwelling on their loss wouldn't help him any now. Even if it meant inconvenience and trouble in the future.

And he hadn't a moment more to think of it, for he could see the churning white colour downstream telling of more rapids swiftly approaching and with that likely more undercurrents and rocks along the way. Tech knew he wasn't likely to survive another bout against them. He had to act now.

Angling himself to swim diagonally through the river’s decreased flow towards the bank nearest him. He worked to slice through the tugging pull of the current rather than fighting against it or allowing it to hold true sway over his direction, kicking his feet hard and paddling his arms.

Fighting through the tiredness that weighed down his limbs and the heaviness that tugged at every breath he drew, measured and sparse, he focussed upon the shoreline rather than the fast approaching white foam that curled around the water-worn boulders jutting out from the rushing water. The blurriness of his eyesight wasn't gradient enough to disguise the danger that lay a mere twenty paces downstream, and again he was plainly aware that he had less than a quarter of a minute to swim far enough to reach the bank.

Or what could be called a bank that was entirely composed of rock, far behind him was the reedy and grass coated shore he had caught glimpse of before being swept further downstream. Now, he had no choice but to reach the visibly drench stone of the river’s edge and hope there would be handholds enough for him to haul himself up out of the water.

Breath catching within his chest, Tech couldn't withhold the cough that sprang forth at the twinge there and he spat away the wetness he felt come up as his lungs still retaliated against the excess moisture he had inhaled. Yet the motion had his legs dropping down in the water in an attempt to keep his head held above the surface, to which he felt the toes of his boots skid against the unyielding yet slippy texture of a sunken rock.

Stretching down and swimming against the current for a spell, Tech attempted to plant his boots solidly onto it and push off of it to propel him towards the shore. Ignoring the lancing of pain that shot up his left leg, from foot to thigh, he struck out a hand over hand towards the river smoothed stone that was the riverbank.

Managing to swim close enough with the tide’s help now to nearly crash into it, but Tech reached out a hand to grip at a deviot in the rockface by his fingers. Straining the appendages, he looked about with a squinted gaze in search of a proper way up whilst he dropped his legs downwards in hopes to feel any sort of riverbed or other rocks beneath him to jump up off. But his feet kicked at only water.

With little choice left, Tech reached up towards the backwards slope of the rock he clung to, feeling with the fingers of his other hand the way it dipped downwards and allowed him to precariously grip the curved edge of it. Wet and eroded by the river waters to a smoothness that even moss and algae didn't grow on it, made for a better yet worse hand grip. Nearly rounded out by the persistent current that pressed against it, there weren't any more lips nor divets Tech could use to climb up.

Physically feeling his strength wane the longer he remained, compounded by the various uncategorised injuries that littered his frame and the fight he was still having with the river’s pull, Tech tensed in preparation to haul himself up. Gritting just teeth against both the ignition of pain along his upper back and the strain of levering his own body weight plus that of his waterlogged armour and gear up the rockface, he felt his muscles of his arms and torso tremble. His breath held captive within his chest, unavoidable given coughing at present would certainly send him back into the drink rather than help.

Managing to drag himself upwards enough so that the bottom of his cuirass was past the rock’s arched edge, Tech leant forwards to rest his plackart against the stone whilst he risked shifting his left hand’s grip to reach forwards and latch onto the exposed and gnarled roots of a nearby tree that brimmed the shoreline. Despite their weathered state, they weren't dry nor dead, still attached firmly to the main snarl of roots that stretched across the shale surface to dive deep into the earth beyond the rocks.

He entangled his fingers amongst the spindly rootlets, using them as an anchor to pull himself further up over the edge of the bank. Flinging his other hand out to snatch onto a thicker portion of the roots, then lifting a leg up from where they still dangled in the water to draw his knee up onto the top of the stone, bracing it there just when the scraggy roots his left hand held gave away.

The motion jerked his frame, his other leg still over the side and trailing in the river, Tech scrambled to renew his handhold of the roots on that side before he upended his balance all together and fell back into the water. His hand only grasped damp soil and another array of weedy roots that loosened under his weight.

Muscles straining to keep the grip he did have with his right hand whilst his polyen audibly skirted against the finitely porous grain of the rock underneath him as he slipped a fraction, Tech wound his hand in the thin knot of exposed radicles. When they didn't give away under the tension, he pulled on them in tandem with his other hand to lever himself more so up. Able to bring his other knee out of the water entirely and up onto the top of the rock.

Not releasing his hold on the roots until he had crawled forwards enough to move his legs away from dangling over the edge, not willing to risk remaining so close to the river now that he was free from it.

Releasing his white-knuckled grip on the roots, Tech collapsed forwards onto his elbows. Dirt adhered to his hands, sticking to every bend and faint crevice of the natural lines in his flesh, mingling with the red pressed indents from how very hard he had clutched at the tree’s roots. Scratches along his hands, gloves ripped and torn open, from his previous fall bled afresh now that there was no water to wash it away.

Drawing in a ragged breath, heavy and deep his gasp was. The action ended up spasming in his chest. Abused flesh and the bone beneath, insides irritated further by the water he had inhaled, had him coughing anew. Hacking and violent, to the point he was left dry retching in between expulsions of air and whatever moisture may have been left in his lungs.

Near faint by the time the paroxysms began to taper off, breathless and utterly spent, Tech slumped forwards to rest his head against the damp earth between his forearms. Vaguely aware of the sting it elicited across his forehead, more so occupied with striving to keep breaths even and resisting the urge to draw in as much air as possible lest he hyperventilate.

Yet every breath, hitched and wheezed though they were abrapted against his throat, each inhale and exhale involuntarily taken by sharply aching and beaten lungs. Another coughing fit was threatened at the edges of every inhale, which he hoped to stave off until he less winded.

A fleeting thought towards the state of his ribs drifted through Tech’s mind at registering the familiar pain, it felt distant however. Overlaid by a bone-weary exhaustion that blanketed against the pain in his chest and every other hurt he could vaguely feel beyond the fatigue.

The darkness that had been playing at the edges of his vision since he had woken up half-drowned in the river finally began to encroach further across his field of view, wavering his sight and swaying the world about him until he tipped over to fall onto his side on the tufted ground. The spark of pain that jolted through his torso at the jarring motion was swallowed up by the blackness that encompassed his vision and an instantaneous plunge towards unconsciousness.

TBC.

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