#allie scribbles about the bad batch

[allie-scribbles]

I can’t stop thinking about Wrecker and baker!reader back on Ord Mantell…

He met you when he was getting himself and Omega some Mantell Mix

The bakery was new, and Omega demanded they go in as soon as she smelled it

Not like Wrecker was gonna say no

When he saw you looking so damn cute behind the counter, he knew he was in trouble

Even more so when through some small talk he finds out you owned the place and made everything from scratch

The way to his heart is definitely his stomach… and in how you slip an extra treat into the bag for Omega, throwing him a conspiratorial wink as you do

You’re now their celebratory post-mission stop, Mantell Mix long forgotten

He totally brings you baked goods from places he has missions so you can try to recreate them (sometimes they come back kinda smooshed, though)

Omega totally knows you’re into her brother and that he’s into you, and can’t figure out why you dummies won’t do anything about it

Like come on, you guys had a flour fight with her one time when you all were baking. She saw how her brother gently wiped the flour off your face… she’s not blind

So she tries to nudge you together, even going so far as to tell you each point blank that the other likes them

She’s met with a lot of denial and disbelief, but she’s not giving up

The day you realize she isn’t lying to you is when she tells you she wishes you were her sister, and Wrecker about chokes on his sugar bun

And suddenly, your crush doesn’t seem as hopeless as you thought

When you bake his favorite one day as a surprise, he excitedly exclaims that it’s so good he could kiss you

This is followed by an excessive amount of stuttering and him turning redder than a cherry before you lean across the counter and peck him on the cheek

Now he’s just red and gaping at you… the mouth is moving but no sounds are coming out

You panic and start to pull away when Wrecker finally comes to his senses and hauls you back in and kisses you sweetly on the lips

Omega is peeking in the window and having the time of her life

She’s pretty sure she’s getting free baked goods for life now

#tbb wrecker #wrecker x reader #the bad batch #the bad batch wrecker #allie scribbles about wrecker #allie scribbles about the bad batch

[olicitysecretsanta]

A Holiday for Two (A Secret Santa Fic for @the-silver-forked-sky )

Happy Holidays, Sim ! I hope you enjoy your Secret Santa fic! It’s an AU (no Island) fluffy piece of holiday goodness at a little over 4,500 words! Enjoy, and I love your edits! – Alli ( @olicitysmoaky )

***

A Holiday for Two

by Olicity Smoaky (for @the-silverforked-sky)

Rating: G

***

Thanksgiving Day, 2012

At the age of twenty-three, Felicity knew two things: that she was the best at what she did and what she did did not include cooking. This was why on that chilly third Thursday of November she was so incredibly grateful that Big Belly Burger did not close until 3pm.

She ordered a mini-belly buster, chili cheese fries and a diet coke. At the last second, she tacked on an apple pie with a side of whipped cream. She planned to eat that a little later along with the ice cream and red wine she had in her apartment. It was after all a day for food splurging.

Halfway down her apartment hallway, white paper sacks swinging from her curled fists (and balancing her soda), she spotted what she might refer to as a Greek god in human clothing if she hadn’t been put off by the cheap looking girl attached to his elbow. Unfortunately, she had to pass them to get to her apartment at the end of the hall. She kept her eyes trained ahead, quickening her step a bit. She heard the girl with the Greek god giggle hard. She held back the urge to roll her eyes when all of a sudden, she felt a bony shoulder knocking into her, causing her to drop one of her bags as she worked to save her drink. Napkins and ketchup spilled out but luckily the food stayed inside. She fell to her knees to gather her fallen items, when she heard a smooth voice murmur beside her, “Let me help.”

She blushed and didn’t look at him. “I got it. Thanks.” Felicity’s blonde hair fell in her eyes; why hadn’t she worn it up like usual? It made her feel more flustered not being able to see through it. When she was mostly certain she’d gathered everything, she stood.

“We didn’t mean to knock over your… dinner.”

Felicity looked up and met a pair of gorgeous blue eyes. Was he staring? No. Yes. He wasn’t blinking. Was he blinking?  She heard the girl beside him cluck her tongue. “Ollie, let’s go.”

“Sorry, Jenna,” he said, looking back at his companion before turning back to Felicity. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” said Felicity. “Happy Thanksgiving.” She left them and hurried to her apartment. She shut the door promptly behind her and glanced around the cozy little space she called home. “Time for Thanksgiving for one.” She kicked off her shoes, willing herself to forget about the blue eyes on the handsome face she’d seen outside. It wouldn’t be too hard. She knew she’d never see him again. And if she did, they wouldn’t speak. He’d just be handsome neighbor guy who she maybe waved at from time-to-time. That worked for her. It kept her loner status in check. Not that she liked being alone all the time, but she could handle it. She was happy – for the most part.

A holiday for one wasn’t all that bad.

As soon as her Big Belly meal was decoratively plated, and her table was set, a knock on her front door filled the room. She groaned. Her food was going to get cold. She stole a taste of her burger – grease-filled bliss – then got up. She opened the door to find the guy from earlier standing their wearing a sheepish grin, holding up a straw.

“You, uh, dropped your straw earlier.” Had she heard him right? Of course, she had. He was holding up the evidence. Maybe she’d fallen asleep on the sofa, and this was some sort of strange dream.

“Okay,” she replied, pulling it from his fingers. “You came by to give me a straw?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes take out soda’s better when you sip it through the straw. Not that I do take out much, but–”

“Thanks,” said Felicity, wanting to close the door but for some reason not moving an inch.

He looked over her shoulder at her dining table. “So, you’re eating Big Belly Burger on Thanksgiving?”

She shifted uncomfortably. “Trying to anyway. Thanks for noticing.”

“I wasn’t judging. I just… Never mind. I’m sorry. I just thought you might like your…” He gestured to her hand.

“Straw?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s okay. I’m not feeling lonely or anything.”

“I’d invite you to our place, but…”

“We just met.”

“That and I’m off to the Thanksgiving from hell with my family.”

“At least you have your girlfriend to protect you.”

A bewildered look colored his features before he replied, “Oh, she’s not coming. And she’s…just a friend.”

A friend, huh? It was none of her business. “Okay. Well, my food is getting cold, so…”

“Sure, sure,” he said. Before she could shut the door, he held out his hand. “Um, I’m Oliver, by the way. I’m just down the hall most days. New to the building.”

She smiled at the warmth in his eyes, and for the first time since she’d seen him in the hallway she completely relaxed. “Felicity.” She shook his hand. Her stomach swooped at the touch then it was over. 

“Nice to meet you, Felicity, and Happy Thanksgiving.” He opened his mouth to say more, but no sound came out. And then he was gone, and Felicity was alone again.

***

Not so many weeks later, Felicity sat in her tiny excuse for an office in the back of the IT department at Queen Consolidated working out an algorithm no one else in the department seemed to be able to master. She’d been out-performing everyone she worked with in the eleven months since they’d lured her away from her job at Kord Industries. She was up for annual review in January and was hoping for a promotion or at least a good salary bump.

“Christmas party sign up,” a young securities analyst named Byron popped his head in without knocking.

“I’m Jewish,” she said almost as a reflex. What she really felt like saying was go away, can’t you see I’m busy? She was just about done.

“Oh. Sorry,” said Byron. “It says holiday party actually. But it’s on Christmas Eve. Monday, then we’re home free for an entire week.”

Felicity clicked a few more keys on her computer. “One sec.” She almost had this. Yes! “Who’s awesome? I am. That’s who.” She looked up at Byron with an apologetic smile. “Sorry for snapping.”

“Since you’re normally a ray of sunshine, you’re forgiven,” Byron quipped.

Felicity held out her hand to take the clipboard. “Is it mandatory?”

“If you want to get promoted, you better bring something good. Better yet, homemade.”

What? He was kidding. She clocked his expression. Nope. He was not kidding. “Homemade? You mean like cook something? QC’s not catering it?”

“It’s the department party, so no.”

Felicity’s stomach twisted. She had to find someone to do it for her. She could poison people if she actually did the baking. But who could she ask? She hadn’t made any friends outside of work since moving to Starling. She never spent time with any of them outside of work.

“What should I put you down for?”

Felicity sank her teeth into her lower lip. “I don’t know.”

“Cookies or cupcakes. Stan loves either,” Byron informed her. Stan was their supervisor. He’d be the one doing her evals. But her performance in the kitchen should have zero to do with her work, right?

“Put me down for cookies. No cupcakes. No… I don’t know.”

“I’ll put either or,” Byron said, pulling the clipboard out of Felicity’s hands and scribbling it down for her. “Surprise us,” he said, turning to head out.

“I’ll be surprising you all right,” Felicity muttered to herself.

“Don’t do store bought,” Byron advised as he slipped into the hallway. “Stan’ll know.”

Felicity sighed. “Just perfect.”

***

December 23, 2012

That Sunday afternoon, as snow flurries tickled her frost-bitten third floor kitchen window, Felicity broke into a sweat. Part of it was from over-exertion. And part of it was from the smoke billowing from the oven. “No! I was paying attention this time.” How could a certified genius muck up cookie baking this badly? She pulled out the hard as stone nearly blackened sugar cookies. She’d made an earlier batch that was somewhat edible, but she wanted them to be perfect. Sadly, since that mediocre victory, the rest of her cookies had taken a turn for the worse. Frak! Now the alarm was squealing from the hallway. She opened her window, stung by the cold air as it whipped inside. “Just a couple minutes open for you. Not planning on building a snowman in the middle of my kitchen floor.”

The alarm was still screeching. She yanked it from its perch on the wall and shut it down before moving into the living room. She’d put it back as soon as she cleared the smoke, which was lingering all around her. She flung open the front door. “I really need friends who bake.”

“I bake,” a deep voice pierced her solitude from the hall.

“Oliver! What are you doing here?”

“I heard the alarm. You okay?” he asked, fanning his hand in front of his face and expelling a small cough. Felicity bit the inside of her cheek. Why did he have to show up at her door at the most humiliating moment?

“I’m fine. I was just… baking,” she said.

“I see.”

Her eyebrows shot up as she crossed her arms. “You think you could do better?”

“Like I said, I bake.”

“Really?” She sounded way too hopeful. If her career wasn’t dangling off the edge of a pirate ship plank, she might have turned him away. But she was desperate. How much worse could he be than she was at it?

Her handsome new neighbor shrugged a shoulder. “Sure. Why not?”

“Great. Let me just close the kitchen window, so we don’t freeze to death.”

***

Oliver turned out to be a wizard in the kitchen. Felicity almost felt like she was in the way. Not that he wasn’t trying to include her. After two batch drills, watching him stir and mix – he made the dough from scratch –  she was ready to try it on her own. She cut the cookie shapes and placed them on the cookie sheet. The oven was at the right temperature. Several minutes later, Felicity got distracted by something on her tablet. She would have burned the cookies had Oliver not prompted her to remove them. “Now we let them cool,” he said, hovering close behind her, his hand resting on the small of her back.

“Okay,” she whispered. “What do we do now?”

“You want to try to make cupcakes?”

“After a glass of wine? Or is it too early for that? I’m not like a day drinker or anything. I just–”

“Felicity, it’s okay. It’s after four.” Oliver chuckled. “Let’s celebrate your victory.”

“’Kay.” Felicity smiled then turned to pull out her best wine and poured them each a glass.

A few seconds later, they perched themselves on the two stools that looked into the kitchen from her living room.

“So, Christmas.”

“Actually, I celebrate Hanukkah usually. But I’m here, working. My mom’s in Vegas. I don’t really know anyone else outside the office. Thank you for helping me by the way. It means a lot. I work at Queen Consolidated, and my supervisor is apparently into sweets – cookies and cupcakes specifically, so…” She stopped both her mouth and the waving hand gesture and bit her bottom lip. “Sorry. I tend to ramble sometimes.”

“It’s cute. And… I like to hear you talk.”

“Promise? You’re not just saying that.”

He held her gaze for a moment and blinked at a pace that made her shiver. “I promise,” he whispered before clearing his throat. “So, name two of your favorite holiday foods.”

“Can it be one food and one liquid?”

A dry chuckle with a hint of mirth escaped Oliver. “Sure.”

“Latkes and hot chocolate with whipped cream and sprinkles.”

“What color?”

“Red. Red, green, blue…and the gold and silver star kind …all of it for the holidays. Makes me kinda …”

“What?”

“Happy. Even if I’m alone.”

“Well, you’re not alone tonight.”

Felicity grinned. “No, I’m not.”

The cupcakes weren’t as simple as the cookies had been. Oliver made it look, well, like a piece of cake. When it was her turn, she splashed most of the batter on the counter. “I swear, I’m really good at other things,” she lamented as Oliver looked at her with what looked like an adoring twinkle in his eyes. No. He wasn’t looking at her like that. She was just a geeky neighbor he felt sorry for. He went for girls like she’d seen him with that first day. Of course, he hadn’t mentioned her again. He said she wasn’t a girlfriend.

“What happened to your friend from the other night?”

“Jenna?”

Felicity nodded, licking some of the to-die-for batter off her fingers.

“Haven’t seen her since that night. I’ve known her for years. But I’m not in a relationship with anyone. What about you?”

“Uh, no. Not since college.”

Oliver nodded but wasn’t meeting her gaze. Was that somehow bad? She refocused on the baking. She could analyze the minute details of his behavior later.

By the time Felicity finally completed a successful set of cupcakes, taste-test approved by Oliver, her bones ached. “Thank you so much for helping this afternoon…and evening. You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. I like being in the kitchen.”

Felicity snorted. Oliver frowned. “I don’t mind it. It’s just not my thing. I have other things I’m good at so it’s okay.”

“I could teach you more things…one day. If you wanted.”

“I’ll just stick to what I know. But thanks.”

“No problem,” he said quietly. Felicity hoped she hadn’t hurt his feelings. Cooking just wasn’t her thing. It was mostly because it didn’t excite her. Eating. Now, that she loved. “Then maybe I’ll cook for you,” he said. She wasn’t sure if he’d read her mind or if she’d said that out loud. But was he asking her out? No. He was just being neighborly. He was nice and handsome and a catch. But she would not read anything into any of this. She didn’t want to get hurt. He didn’t seem to notice what he said or her reaction to it. “We can decorate and frost the cupcakes together. Then after maybe we could watch a movie. If you want.”

Wow. At the very least, it was obvious he enjoyed her company. “Um, yeah! I mean, yes. Sure. If you want.”

“I do.” They shared grins.

“Okay, I’ll go see what I can pull up on Netflix. Or wait. Do you watch Suits? I need to catch up. That or Game of Thrones. I’m a season behind. Not that you want to a watch an entire season of a show you’ve never seen in one night. Unless you have seen it, that is–”

“Whatever you want is fine with me,” Oliver said, stepping into the room with a smile. “As long as I’m with you, I’m good.”

Felicity turned away from him, a blush firing her cheeks. What exactly was this man trying to do to her?

***

Felicity had no idea how it happened, but she awoke close to midnight to a dark apartment with her afghan tucked around her. She blinked her eyes a bit as they adjusted to the darkness. “Oliver?” There was an indescribable coolness to the air that told her she was alone. She sat up, popping a crick in her neck then mashing her fingers into the muscles surrounding it.

When she clicked on the lamp next to her sofa, its soft yellow light filled the room, painting a path to the kitchen where she found her cookies and cupcakes stored neatly in boxes, decorated (with little snowmen and snowflakes) and ready to take to work. She also found two sticky notes taped to the top box. The first read: You did a great job on these. I’m sure they’ll be a hit. Any time you want to toss around the cookie dough, let me know. – Oliver

Scribbled on the second was simply: Consider this my raincheck for our Netflix night. It was followed by a barely decipherable wink. Was he just being nice or was that him asking her out? Did she even have his number? She could just go knock on his door and thank him for his help. She looked at her wall clock. At 12:16am? Good plan, Felicity. Not to mention, she had no idea which apartment was his. No, she was just going to go to bed, wake up, head to work, and hope she saw him again one day. Yes, that was the logical thing to do. “Sometimes I hate logic,” she muttered as she padded across the kitchen floor and turned out the light.

***

December 24, 2012

Oliver was right. Felicity’s cookies and cupcakes were an incredible hit. She felt a little guilty having not done it all herself and taking the credit for their magnificence, but she had worked hard on them, and she felt proud that she’d at least been a part of their creation.

“Felicity, these are amazing,” her supervisor Stan raved biting into his fifth cupcake, green frosting coloring his mustache. “Your review is right after the first of the year, am I right?”

“Yes. January 4th.”

“Well, I certainly look forward to it. Your work has not gone unnoticed, Ms. Smoak,” he finished before being pulled away by his wife to chat with the supervisor from accounting who’d stopped in briefly. “You have got to try these cupcakes, Harriet,” Felicity heard him saying. “Our resident prodigy Felicity Smoak is a wizard in more areas than one.”

Frakety-frak-frak-frak. She really hoped they wouldn’t expect her to do this every year. “Oh, God.”

“The name’s Oliver,” she heard a somewhat familiar voice murmur beside her. She gasped, and whipped around.

“Oliver! What are you doing here?” She felt her eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. “How did you find my office?”

“I, uh…” He scratched the back of his neck. 

Before Oliver could answer, Felicity’s co-worker, Byron, slid up beside them, hand extended toward Oliver. “Happy holidays, Mr. Queen.”

“M-Mr. Queen?” Felicity blanched. “As in Oliver Queen?”

Apparently, Oliver did not like the expression on her face. He reached his hand out to touch her shoulder, but she shied away from it. “Felicity…”

“So, you’ve met our secret weapon. Genius at what she does. Genius in the kitchen. Have you tried her cupcakes? They’re phenomenal.”

“Thank the chef here,” she said, pointing her thumb at Oliver.

“I’m sorry?” asked Byron.

“She was kidding,” said Oliver, holding her gaze.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Mr. Queen,” she said.

“Felicity…”

“I think I’ll be heading home.” She’d put in enough face time. She did her cookie and cupcake duty. God. What an idiot she was.

She managed to make it to her office, retrieve her coat, then slip out to the parking garage without anyone stopping her. She’d half-expected Oliver to follow her, but why would he do that? He’d had his kicks, right?

Just after she’d slid into her mini-Cooper and revved up the engine, a set of knuckles wrapped on her window. Oliver’s too gorgeous face and amazing blue eyes appeared on the other side of it.

“Felicity, please. Let me explain.”

His puppy-dog expression caused her to sigh and roll down her window. “There’s nothing to explain. You’re Oliver Queen. I should have picked that up. But you know, you were in the middle of a gentrified building just outside the Glades, so the thought never crossed my mind.”

“It’s my friend Sara’s apartment.”

“Sara Lance?”

“Yes. I’ve been using it since she left town, so I could—”

“Hide from being Oliver Queen? Have random hook ups. I get it.” Felicity sighed. “Look. I’m not mad. I’m just embarrassed, okay? So, can I just go home now?”

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I should have told you.”

“It’s okay, Oliver. Happy holidays.”  

Without giving him a chance to respond, Felicity backed her car out of her spot and headed home.

***

December 25, 2012

Felicity peeled her eyes open, very aware that it was Christmas morning. The stores would be closed. Families were exchanging gifts all over the city. Families like the Queens. She inched her way into her connecting bathroom to shower and change from her pajamas to a comfy pair of sweats and a t-shirt. A full day of Netflix was definitely on the menu. Maybe some pizza or Chinese food later.

When Felicity settled on her sofa, her mind conjured images of Oliver and his family celebrating around an enormous Christmas tree surrounded by all the comforts of the rich. He’d probably forgotten all about her. The next time he ran into her, he’d make nice most likely, then she’d pass him awkwardly in the hallway and make her way down to her apartment like she had the first time she’d seen him. Everything back in its place – Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak separate worlds, separate lives.

About three minutes into her wallowing, the doorbell rang. Who’d be visiting her today of all days? And so early, too. Felicity peeled open her door to find a small ice blue envelope decorated with snowflakes with her name inked on the outside. Her eyes darted down the hall, but it was empty – empty save a few other envelopes making a path to the front door of the apartment three units down. Sara’s apartment. Oh, Google. Felicity swallowed and opened the first note. It was a recipe for Chicken Cordon Bleu. Felicity crinkled her nose and turned the card over. This is my favorite meal to cook. I hope you like it, too.

Her heart thudded in her chest. Tingles swirled up her spine. Heat pooled in her belly. Oliver. There was no way in hell she wasn’t following his bread crumbs, but she looked terrible. She had bed head and morning breath. That and she was low-key scared out of her mind at the prospect of finding Oliver on the other side of Sara’s door. What if someone came by and picked up the cards. Should she just grab them. Keep them in order? No. She’d just quickly brush her teeth, run a comb through her hair, put on some shoes and grab her purse. She wasn’t one to go out without her purse.

Less than five minutes later, Felicity was back in the hallway picking up a red envelope. Inside was another recipe. This one for butternut squash soup. The back of that card read, For those rainy nights. The third envelope was green. Inside, she found a recipe for sweet and sour chicken. The message read, Better than any take out you’ve ever had. The third envelope was silver with gold stars on it. Its recipe was for fudge brownies. Simple, sweet but with so much depth. Just like the girl I want to get to know. Felicity’s breath caught in her throat. She tucked the envelope into her purse next to the others then stepped in front of Sara’s door where the last card lay. It was silver with her name written in gold sharpie. She opened it. The recipe card inside was blank. She turned it over. On the back it said, My name is Oliver Queen. And I only have one goal. To make you dinner. Felicity burst out laughing. The cheesiness of it turned her into a ball of giddy goo. Immediately, the door swung open. “You’re here.”

“Who would have ever guessed the Oliver Queen could be such a cornball,” she said, her giggles only just subsiding.

He grinned, a full blush filling his cheeks. “I have my moments. Okay. Actually, this is a first.”

“Oh, really?”

Oliver nodded, his grin not at all fading. “There’s just something about you that…”

She titled her head. “Brings out your inner cornball?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Something like that. Would you like to come in?”

Felicity followed him inside to find the cozy apartment modestly decorated for Christmas. A tree of about six feet sat in the corner, filled with ornaments, tinsel and lights. A couple of Christmas cushions sat on the sofa.

“So, let me get this straight. You plan on cooking me all these meals?”

“If you want,” said Oliver, looking down bashfully for a second.

He was so adorable that Felicity couldn’t resist stepping into his personal space and cupping his cheek. She ran her fingers over his stubble and stroked her thumb along his jaw. “So, Oliver Queen, huh?”

“Felicity, I—”

“Shh…” she whispered before pressing her lips to his. Oliver froze. Felicity pulled back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

He cradled her face in his gloriously large hands, then pulled her back to him. Oliver groaned, slanting his mouth over hers. Felicity whimpered into his mouth. Soon, their tongues tangled as they tasted each other for the first time. Felicity’s hand crept up the soft material of his sweater. She could feel his heart thumping in his chest. After a few seconds, Oliver tore his mouth away and pressed several kisses along her jaw until he reached the shell of her ear. She thought he might take it between his lips, but instead he whispered, “I’ve been wanting to do that since the day I met you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His voice cracked a little.

He pulled her into his arms and held her for a bit. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you my last name.”

“In fairness, I didn’t tell you mine either.”

“But you told me where you worked, and I froze. I didn’t want to ruin things with us. I just felt so incredibly lucky that—”

“My alarm went off?”

“Yeah.”

“So, I’m assuming you have to go be with your family today.”

Oliver shook his head. “I was there last night. We exchanged our gifts already. I told them I had some work to do.”

“But what about Christmas dinner?”

“My parents are leaving to go skiing. My sister is already at a friend’s for the day.”

“So much for the image of the Queen family Christmas I had in my head.”

“I think a Smoak-Queen Christmas…

“A Smoak-Queen Chrismukkah…ish. I mean, Hannukah ended like nine days ago, but…”

“Oh. Well, I have a surprise planned. I hope it’s okay.”

“Don’t tell me? One of your recipes.”

“Nope. Those are for later. Today….” Oliver ran into the kitchen then re-appeared with a plate of potato pancakes with two sauce cups in the center, two forks and two mugs. He sat each on the coffee table in front of Sarah’s sofa.

“Latkes and hot chocolate with sprinkles? You got every color, too.”

“I hope this is okay. I went through about three batches before I got the latkes right. I got the recipe online.”

Felicity dolloped some apple sauce on one and dug in. Heaven. “Oliver Queen, I think I’m in love.”

Oliver blushed.

“With your latkes, of course. Not…I mean. I’ll just keep eating.”

Oliver chuckled and kissed her cheek. “Let me get us some little plates.”

Felicity watched Oliver go with a content smile. When he returned, they sat knee-to-knee and enjoyed the rest of what would be the first of many holidays together.

The End 

#olicity #olicity secret santa 2017 #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #submission

[allie-scribbles]

I’d just like it to be known that if I saw Crosshair like this, it’d take all the restraint in the universe for me not to sneak up and smack his ass. That is all.

#crosshair #tbb crosshair #allie scribbles about the bad batch #allie scribbles her thoughts

[allie-scribbles]

Love, Alone

Summary: Crosshair finds out you’re no longer with the Bad Batch, and has to come to terms with what that means for him. Told from Crosshair’s POV.

Pairing: Crosshair x fem Reader

Word Count: 603

Series Tags/Warnings: Angst, sad feels, implied pregnancy, cussing because I can’t help it, a smidge of violence

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Interlude | Part 4

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He has Hunter pinned beneath him, a blade at his throat, yet Crosshair is the one who feels at a complete disadvantage. His brother could turn the tables at any time, and it’s telling that he doesn’t.

“You wanna try not lying to me this time?” He hisses, despite knowing full well that what Hunter told him just moments ago was the truth.

“She’s gone, Crosshair. We don’t know where.”

Hunter’s voice is level, calm, and certain – everything Crosshair isn’t as the words sink in. She left? Why would she leave?

He can feel the eyes of the others burning into him, waiting for his next move. As if he’s volatile, a bomb about to go off. Which he supposes isn’t far off from the inner turmoil he’s currently experiencing, although he’ll never let them see it.

“Explain,” he demands, barely able to keep his tone even, eyes and knife steady on the one man who holds the answers he needs. “And tell me why the fuck you let her go.”

Hunter sighs. He knew he’d probably have to tell Crosshair all this eventually, but he’d been hoping it would be in a more neutral situation.

“She left about seven standard months ago. We just finished some work on Cyrea. I tried to talk her out of it, I really did. But she… her mind was made up. You know how she can be. Stubborn. Like someone else I know.”

Crosshair resists the urge to roll his eyes. He knows exactly how she can be, and shit, that’s why he loves her. Loved her. For the first time in his life, he’s not sure.

He removes the knife from Hunter’s neck, and practically stalks over to Tech. “And you couldn’t fucking track her or some shit? What kind of a genius are you if you can’t find a goddamn civvie?” He spits out.

Tech, to his credit, is as calm as ever. He been on the receiving end of these tantrums before. Sighing and pushing his goggles up the bridge of his nose, he launches into his explanation matter of factly. “She left us a tracking device, with instructions that she’d activate it if and when she wanted to be found. However, she also stipulated that if I tried to activate it, or in any other way tamper with it, it would damage itself beyond repair. My preliminary scans and subsequent analyses reveal that her information was accurate. She is smarter than I gave her credit for, or she spent a lot of credits to find someone to make this device to her specifications. Given enough time maybe I could find a way, but I’m uncertain-”

He makes a quick detour to glare at Hunter. “You better fucking tell me when she activates that tracker,” he spits. “That’s the only reason I’m letting you go.”

As he climbs the ramp, he can’t help but wonder why she left. Why she felt the need to be so secretive, even with his brothers. Why she didn’t even try to fucking face him before disappearing off to who knows what corner of the galaxy.

In the end, he decides it doesn’t matter why she left. All he knows is that if she really loved him, she would’ve stayed. She would’ve stopped at nothing to find him. And if he ever finds her, well… she’s a part of the Bad Batch. He’s a good soldier. Good soldiers follow orders.

#crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb fanfiction #allie scribbles about the bad batch #allie scribbles about crosshair

[allie-scribbles]

Love, Familiar

Summary: On Wrea, your family meets someone special. Someone new.

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!reader

Word Count: 784

Series Tags/Warnings: Angst, sad feels, implied pregnancy, (now there’s a baby!) cussing because I can't help it, a smidge of violence.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Interlude | Part 4

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Two months. It’s been two months. Not that you’d really had a timeframe on when you thought they’d arrive - you knew they got busy on jobs for Cid, among other things. You knew they wouldn’t come here in haste, either, not if it would put you in danger. And okay, Wrea wasn’t exactly the easiest planet to get to, but that’s why you picked it. Still, that knowledge didn’t make it any easier. Every day that had gone by since you activated the tracker started with unbridled hope, and ended with crushing disappointment when they didn’t show up.

Deep down, you hate to admit that you’re scared. You’re scared something happened to them, that they won’t be coming, that that part of your family has died a horrible death.

So when you hear a ship landing on the outskirts of the village you don’t think anything of it, except for how kriffing loud it is. You don’t hear the murmurs of your fellow villagers, your friends and neighbors. You don’t even see anything as you’re hunched over working in your small garden, lost in your own little world, until a booming shout of your name echoes across the village, and you turn just in time to see Wrecker bounding towards you for a split second before you’re being swept up in his arms.

He spins you around and sets you down in front of the rest of your boys, and as they each hug you (and, in the case of Tech, begin asking you a million questions) tears spring to your eyes. You’re just so inexplicably happy, that you can almost forget that your family is still incomplete. Almost, because in the midst of the others joining tech in his line of questioning, you hear something.

Hunter hears it too, because as you turn abruptly to him in the middle of answering a question from echo, you notice his eyes widen almost comically.

“Did you tell them?” You practically whisper, not sure what you’re hoping the answer will be.

“No,” He shakes his head solemnly, and makes a frustrated gesture under the incredulous gazes of his brothers, just now realizing he’s known more than them all along. “She told me not to!” He sputters, and you stifle a snort as you feature for them to all follow you inside your small hut.

The noise that had alerted you and Hunter has since stopped, but you know it’s time.

“I’ll be right back,” you assure them as they protest at being left alone in the main room, eager to keep you in their sights. “I’m going to go get something that will explain… well… everything, I hope.”

You can hear their whispers as you slip into the only other room in the hut, gathering up a small bundle and carefully tucking it to your chest. Taking a few deep, steadying breaths, you turn and walk back to the main sitting room.

“Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, Echo,” you begin, but you’re met with quizzical gazes as the bundle wriggles a bit, followed by gasps from everyone (even Hunter) as a small head of tousled silver hair and honey brown eyes peek out at them from the blankets. You inhale deeply, calming your nerves as best you can.

“Meet Amaia.”

To their credit, they all figure it out pretty quickly. Why you left, why you stayed hidden. Wrecker immediately bursts into the biggest grin you’ve ever seen on the man, and is cooing over Amaia and asking if ba’vodu Wrecker can hold her. Tech only gapes like a fish for a solid fifteen seconds before congratulating you, and asking if he might be allowed to run some genetic tests later. Echo is holding back tears as he cradles Amaia’s head with his hand as Wrecker holds her, emotion all over his face. Hunter leans back against the wall, though, watching you and his brothers with a wistful half smile on his face. You leave Amaia in the hands of her ba’vode, and take your place on the wall next to him.

“Thanks for keeping my secret,” you whisper, quickly squeezing his hand. He hums in response, his gaze fixed on her. “Amaia, huh?” He questions. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” He turns to face you, and suddenly you can see the love and pride shining in his eyes. You both stand there for a while, basking in the love that was practically pouring out of your little home.

“So… you ever gonna tell Crosshair?” He asks out of the blue. It would have startled you, but you’d thought long and hard about this, and you smirk as you turn to face him.

“Actually, you are.”

#crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair #the bad batch #crosshair fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb fanfiction #allie scribbles about the bad batch #allie scribbles about crosshair

[allie-scribbles]

Interlude

Summary: Hunter’s plan sucks. But a promise is a promise, and Crosshair needs to know. Told from Hunter’s POV.

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!reader

Word Count: 794

Series Tags/Warnings: Angst, sad feels, implied pregnancy (now there's a baby!), cussing because I can't help it, a smidge of violence.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Interlude | Part 4

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“This is a stupid plan,” he muses to no one in particular, perched on a rock in the middle of a desert on… well, actually, he wasn’t sure what planet they were on.

“I must remind you that this was your plan,” comes Tech’s voice in his ear, and he’d never wanted to punch his brother in his know-it-all face more.

Yeah, it was his plan. Yeah, it wasn’t his best one. But what could he kriffing do? There wasn’t exactly a manual for how to tell your brother (whose cheese has debatedly slipped off his cracker) that you finally found his (ex?) lover who had run off and oh yeah, she had his baby while she was MIA.

Yeah, Hunter was pretty sure he was fucked.

In hindsight, this “plan” wasn’t much of a plan at all. Set up a fake mission on a remote planet, “forget” to encode a transmission about said plan and the location, show up, and wait. He just didn’t expect to be waiting in this blasted sun for this kriffing long.

So, it’s almost a relief when he senses his brother’s presence, confirmed by a bolt from his rifle hitting the sand a few feet to his left.

“Out here all alone?” Comes a sneer from over his shoulder, and Hunter turns to see Crosshair striding across the sand towards him. He holds his hands up in surrender, praying to the maker that this wouldn’t end up with him captured or dead.

“I knew you’d come,” he shrugs, “didn’t see a need for backup.”

Crosshair keeps advancing, rifle never lowering. “Maybe you should’ve,” he taunts. “What is this, anyway? A setup?”

Hunter sighs, lowering one hand to scrub across his face. “You wouldn’t have come if you thought it was.”

“Then what do I think it is?” He drawls, now within arms reach of Hunter.

“You think I know where she is. And I do,” he states simply.

Crosshair unceremoniously drops his rifle, opting instead to attempt to deck his brother in the face, which Hunter easily blocks.

“You’re lying,” he hisses, trying and failing to wrench his fist from Hunter’s grasp. “She’s dead.”

“Dead? Or dead to you?” He asks, leveling him with a glare. “I saw her, Crosshair. She’s alive. She misses you. Probably about as much as you miss her.”

Crosshair jerks his arm again, but Hunter still refuses to release him. He shoots his best “No. It’s not… she’s not. She left me. And then she died,” he whispers menacingly, and Hunter swears he can see tears forming in his eyes, his resolve cracking in the face of Hunter’s certainty. Hunter doesn’t let go, keeping his grip tight on his brother’s hand, almost as if the physical connection would force Crosshair to believe what Hunter is about to say to him, even if they both knew he’d never lie to him.

“She’s alive. She loves you. She wants you to find her.” Hunter asserts, yanking Crosshair’s arm down before releasing his grip. The two men stare at each other for what could be an eternity before Hunter breaks.

With a sigh, he unclips a puck from his belt and chucks it at Crosshair’s feet. “Her coordinates are in there. She’s on Wrea. Do what you want with that information.”

As he turns to leave he pauses and looks back to his brother, who is now cradling the puck like it’s the most precious thing in the galaxy. He has the map open, and is staring at the blinking dot as if it contains all his hopes and dreams, and all of his worst fears. Hunter can’t recall ever seeing anyone so conflicted… certainly not Crosshair.

“A word of advice,” he calls back. “Keep an open mind when you go to find her. She’s not the same as she was. She’s… there’s more.”

The sound of acknowledgement Crosshair makes is meant to be a grunt, of that Hunter is sure, but it comes across as damn near close to a whimper. And maybe, just maybe, he thinks, Crosshair is feeling vulnerable enough to finally come home. To find you, and find his place with the Batch again.

He slowly walks up to him, and can practically feel the emotions rolling off the man. He can feel his nerves, the hope and apprehension singing through them in the face of something wants but doesn’t dare believe he can have. Hunter gently places a hand on his shoulder in a silent question, the “come with us” implied in the gentle pull on his brother’s shoulder. When Crosshair whips around, his usual guarded exterior is back up, and Hunter has his answer.

With that he strides away towards the rendezvous point, leaving Crosshair to make his decision alone.

#crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair #the bad batch crosshair #the bad batch fanfiction #allie scribbles about the bad batch #allie scribbles about crosshair

[allie-scribbles]

Love, Lost

Summary: Before love can be found again, it has to be lost. You were his before he joined the empire, and you fear you won’t be enough to bring him back. Takes place during and after season one of The Bad Batch, because I’m not happy with how you left that, DAVE 😒

Pairing: Implied/eventual Crosshair x fem Reader

Word Count: 430

Tags/Warnings: Angst, sad feels, implied pregnancy, cussing because I can’t help it

a/n: I really hope to make this a few parts long, but no promises

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Interlude | Part 4

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A soft “hey” stopped you in your tracks. You shifted the weight of the small bag on your shoulder with a sigh, and turned away from the open door to face him.

“Should’ve known it’d be you,” you muttered, refusing to meet his eyes, afraid your resolve would waver under his gaze. You couldn’t afford to be swayed, not this time.

“What’re you doing, cyar’ika?” he murmured; anything above a whisper might have reverberated through the ship and woken the others.

“What I have to, Hunter. You know as well as I do that if I stay, I’m in danger.”

He stepped closer to you, approaching cautiously until he was near enough to gently turn your gaze to meet his. “But we… we can protect you. You’re our family, as much as he is, and if-“ he swallowed, “if I’m right, if this is what I think it is, with family is where you need to be.”

Shooting Hunter a sad smile, you shook your head almost imperceptibly. “I know you can. And I want to stay, you have to know that. But what I want doesn’t matter anymore. If he finds you - if he finds us - we don’t know what he’s capable of. We left him. I fucking left him and,” you choked out a sob, unable to maintain your stoic facade any longer. “And I don’t know if the love he had for us, the love we still have for him is enough to save us. I just can’t risk it, not now. You have to see that.”

Exhaling deeply, he wiped your tears with his thumbs and pulled you to his chest.

“What should I tell the others?” he whispered into your hair.

“Anything but the truth. Just… just make sure they know it wasn’t them, please. I couldn’t live knowing any of them thought they were the reason I left.”

You could feel his slight nod, and were thankful he didn’t push you on this. “Will we at least be able to find you?”

“I left a tracker for Tech. You can’t activate it on your end, but when I’m safe I’ll turn it on so you can find me. If you want to find me.”

“We’ll always want to find you,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead before releasing you. “Be safe, cyar’ika. For us. For him.”

You nodded, and turned your back on the place and people you called home, clinging to the sound of the last loving words you were likely to hear for a long time.

#tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb fanfiction #allie scribbles about the bad batch #allie scribbles about crosshair

[allie-scribbles]

Love, In Four Parts

A Crosshair x fem!reader story

Summary: The man you love is gone, unaware of the secret you’re carrying. What happens when he finally finds you and you both have to face what you’ve done? Set post-Order 66.

Series Tags: Angst with a happy ending, sad feels, implied pregnancy, eventual infant, cussing because I can't help it, a smidge of violence

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Love, Lost

Love, Alone

Love, Familiar

Interlude

Love, Fournd

#crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch #allie scribbles about crosshair #allie scribbles about the bad batch #love in four parts

[allie-scribbles]

I would very much like Tech to do an awkward (but wholehearted) job of trying to take care of me and lift my spirits.

#tech my baby #allie scribbles about tech #allie scribbles about the bad batch #tbb tech #tech the bad batch

[allie-scribbles]

Love, Found

Summary: It’s the big reunion. But will it be a happy one?

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k (whoops)

Series Tags/Warnings: Angst, sad feels, implied pregnancy (now there's a baby!), cussing because I can't help it, a smidge of violence.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Interlude | Part 4

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You swear you aren’t force sensitive, but the way you step outside one day and somehow, deep down, know he’s there makes you re-evaluate that assumption - if only for a second.

You had just gotten Amaia down for a nap and were planning for a moment of peace and quiet in your garden when you felt it: you were being watched. Only this didn’t feel like the uncomfortable gaze of a stranger or a judgemental look from an acquaintance. It was calm and focused. Warm, if a bit distant. It was him, and you didn’t need to be a Jedi to know it.

It almost takes you by surprise, how quickly he’d arrived on Wrea. It had only been a couple weeks since Hunter had let you know he’d given your coordinates to Crosshair. To be honest, part of you was expecting to wait months for him to show up. But there was never any doubt that he’d observe from afar first, making his move when he felt comfortable. The Empire may have changed him, but you still were confident you knewhim like the back of your hand.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Crosshair had been in the same position for hours upon hours, yet the fatigue and stiffness didn't register. He pushed them to the back of his mind, quite easily in fact, putting all his focus on you. You, who had haunted his dreams since he begged you to defect to the Empire with him. The person who betrayed him even more than his brothers. He had bared things to you he’d never dare whisper to them, trusted you with his ramshackle heart, and in the end, you didn’t choose him.

That’s what he had been telling himself, at least, until you were there in his scope. Cliché as it was, he couldn’ breathe for a moment when he saw you. You were exactly the same, yet different somehow. You seemed softer around the edges, both physically and in the way you moved. Where your movements before were purposeful and precise, there was now a graceful ease.

He watched through the window as you readied breakfast, singing to yourself and dancing in the kitchen. He watched you slip on a shawl and shoes as you exited the front door, a bundle strapped to your chest that he quickly realized was a baby in a very fuzzy hat with Tooka ears (not an actual Tooka). He felt a sharp panic then, easily quelled when you returned from the village minutes later without the child. He knew you had always liked children, so it made perfect sense you’d help the villagers watch them when needed.

A few household chores later and you returned to the village, coming back after a short while with what he assumed was another child strapped to you - the Tooka hat was gone and replaced with a plain bonnet. He allowed himself a half smile then - you were still his girl, caring and always willing to lend a hand where needed.

That led him to now, when you stepped out to the garden alone, taking a deep breath and smiling as the wind brushed your hair away from your face. As he watched you through his scope, he felt the full weight of his situation hit him for the first time. He could reveal himself, or not… risk being rejected again, or not.

He made his decision, removing himself from the patch of ground he had made his home for the day, packing up his kit with the intent to leave you once and for all. His fragile heart couldn’t take rejection again from the one thing it loved above all else. Just as he was about to tuck his scope into its compartment, he caved, stealing one last glance your way. If he didn’t know better, he’d say you were staring right at him, a serene smile on your face, like you knew he was there. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face and shoving the scope angrily into his kit. Whatever previous decision he made wasthrown to the wind. He fucking loved you, and he hadto try.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You were washing dishes when the energy in the apartment shifted. Your hands stilled, and you took a deep breath. This was it. The moment you had been waiting for. But your movements were slow and deliberate as you set down the now clean plate, drained the water from the sink, and wiped your hands on the towel before folding it neatly on the counter. You steeled yourself as you turned, not sure what version of Crosshair you were going to find. The imperial soldier? The stoic sniper you first met? Or the man you were irrevocably in love with?

When you turned around, he was seated at the kitchen table, feet up and toothpick in his mouth, a smirk on his face. You gave his feet a pointed look, and he huffed out a chuckle as he swung them down to the floor.

“Miss me, sweetheart?” he drawled, legs spread wide and one arm slung over the back of the chair, looking for all intents and purposes like a permanent fixture in your home instead of the (welcomed) intrusion that he was. But still you could see the apprehension, the uncertainty in his eyes. The concern that what has transpired has changed you, changed him, too much. That what you had was completely and utterly gone.

The only sign of surprise is his soft “oof” as you flung yourself at him, arms around his neck and knees hitting the floor as you hug him as best you can in your awkward position. He immediately returned your embrace with one arm, the other hand resting under your chin. Both work in tandem to guide you both to a standing position. Though he still says nothing, you can see how much he missed you shining in his eyes, felt it vibrating through his body, tasted it in the searing kiss he pressed to your lips as he held you close.

You stood there together reveling in the closeness for what seems like hours, until a soft cry from the next room breaks the silence. Panic flooded through you; while Amaia was asleep you had been able to pretend this moment you’ve dreaded would never come. But Crosshair doesn’t seem surprised, which you guess made sense if he had been watching you. But did he know?

He spun you around to face the bedroom door and pats you on the ass, a smirk on his face as he jutted his chin towards the source of the cry. You give his hand one last squeeze before you go, and his responding squeeze gave you both hope that maybe things would be just like they were.

Admittedly, you took longer than you needed to gather Amaia, drawing out changing her diaper and tidying the blankets in her crib as long as you could. You could feel your heart beating a mile a minute, your muscles tensed your skin clammy. Amaia sensed it too, refusing to settle in your arms as she continued whining and wiggling.

You took one last deep breath to fortify yourself, and slipped back into the main room. Crosshair was examining some baby paraphernalia carefully, as if it may bite him. His back was to you, and you couldn’t help but snort a little at his posture and the confusion you knew was on his face. But your laugh gave you away, and he suddenly spoke as he turned toward you.

“I should’ve known you’d be helping out with the village’s babies. You were always so good with my…” his voice died mid sentence as he took you in.

He froze, going stiller than you’d ever seen before. His eyes darted from Amaia to you and back, tracing every similarity the two of you share and cataloging each difference. You could see him connect the dots almost instantly… how could he not? A shock of white hair, his warm eyes set just as yours were, and his skin tone on a face shaped exactly like yours left no doubt. In your arms was a perfect blend of him and you.

You want to plead with him to not be mad, to let you explain, to do anything to make him stay, but when you registered the newest emotion on his face as fear - true, genuine fear - the words just didn’t come. You could count the number of times you’d seen this man scared on one hand; hell, on one finger. And the one thing you had learned is that a scared Crosshair was an angry Crosshair.

So when you softly whispered, “Cross-,” part of you wasn’t surprised when his blank mask snapped back over his face, or when he simply stated, “No,” and stalked right out your front door, gone as quickly as he appeared. Part of you knew it was coming. But the other part of you collapsed on the floor, sobs wracking your body as you held Amaia close.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was 2 a.m. when you heard the door to your and Amaia’s shared room squeak. When you finally worked up the nerve to roll over some minutes later, you saw a tall, thin figure slightly bending over the crib, backlit by the soft nightlight.

You slipped out of bed and padded over to Crosshair, stopping a few feet away. You could see the tension in his shoulders, yet they’re slumped almost in defeat. He tentatively reached out as if to brush a lock of silver hair off of Amaia’s forehead, but retracted his hand a millimeter away, quickly as if he had been burned.

“I had a right to know,” he whispered, and there was no mistaking the anger, the fear in his voice. “I had a right to know about her,” he practically spat, and that was what snapped you out of your trance. There was no way he was getting away with talking about your daughter in that tone.

You grabbed his wrist as firmly as you could, and dragged him into the main room of the cottage where the low light over the stove casted just enough light.

“And I had to do what I thought would keep our daughter safe,” you seethed. “Do you know what the Empire would do with the daughter of a clone? Because I don’t, and I don’t ever want to find out.”

He jerked his hand out of your grasp. “I could’ve kept you safe,” he all but whispered, anger lacing his words. “If I had known, I could’ve kept you and her safe.”

“Her name is Amaia,” you threw back at him, “and since you decided to leave, I had to do what I thought was best.”

You stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before the unthinkable happened. Crosshair broke. He slumps into your kitchen chair, head hanging in his hands, and you swore you see a tear make its way down his cheek.

“I don’t know what to do,” he confessed in a broken whisper. “I love you and I think I love her, and I don’t know what to do.”

You felt all the anger leave your body at the sight of the broken man in front of you. Slowly, you crossed over to him and sunk to your knees between his legs as best you could, in a more somber mirroring of your earlier position. You took his hands in yours and lowered them from his face, releasing them only to wipe the tear track from his cheek. Pressing your forehead to his, you whispered one simple word: “Stay”.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He stayed. For the next day, at least. Much to your shock - and delight - Crosshair was a natural with Amaia. You attempted to reassure him the first time he tried to hold her, wanting him to know he didn’t have to be afraid of dropping or hurting her, but your words were met with a smirk and an eye roll.

“Honey, these are the steadiest hands in the galaxy. They don’t drop anything they don’t mean to.”

He was a bit flustered the first time she cried, but quickly recovered by standing her up and balancing her in the palm of his hand (which was met with squeals of delight from her and mild terror from you).

The afternoon found you all in your small bed, Amaia napping contentedly between Crosshair and yourself. His fingers ghosted up and down your arm, gaze flirting between your small daughter and you, and you swore you had never seen him look more at peace. Until suddenly, he wasn’t. The sound of a ship passing overhead startled him out of his daze, and he suddenly went back to his stoic self.

“I have to leave tonight,” he stated simply, as if unaware of the effect those simple words would have on you.

“Crosshair, what… why? You said you would stay!“ you whispered, determined to not wake Amaia.

He motioned for you to wait a second, and scooped her up and placed her in her crib oh so gently. Then, he beckoned you to follow him into the kitchen.

“I thought you said you were staying,” you hissed, somewhere between pleading and anger.

He slowly approached you and gently pulled you into his arms, resting his head atop yours. He held you there for a moment until your body relaxed into soft sobs.

“Mesh’la,” he whispered, tilting your chin up so you met his eyes. “Mesh’la, I’m not leaving you. I just… if I aim to get away from the Empire and not endanger you, endanger my family… I have to go back. But I’ll return to you both.”

His thumbs stroking tears off your cheeks did nothing to calm you as you tore yourself from his grip. Logically, you knew he was right. But after so long expecting him to find you and Amaia and being disgusted by what he found, you couldn’t bear to let him go after the slice of normalcy you’d gotten a taste of today. You stood by the kitchen window, sobbing into the sink.

You heard him shift awkwardly behind you; he was never the best at handling displays of emotion. After a few long minutes, he cleared his throat. “Baby, you know I… Maker, I don’t want to kriffing leave! But I can’t bear the thought of something happening to you. Either of you.”

His voice broke on the last sentence, and you turn around and are met with a sight you never thought you’d see. Tears were shining in Crosshair’s eyes. His hair was mussed, short strands normally kept down now flying in all directions. His hand not supporting his weight on the small table was digging into the back of his neck.

You regarded him calmly as you could, waiting for him to finish. Apparently he didn’t know where to go next, because he paced and ran his hands through his hair again.

He stopped in front of you several times as if to speak, but resumed his pacing before he finally stopped for good.

“Six months,” he breathed “Give me six months. I’ll come back. I’ll be her buir and your riduur. But I need to keep you safe.”

The look of sheer desperation on his face would have been enough to convince you. You nodded slowly, and let him collapse into your arms. After all, what was another six months when you had a lifetime ahead of you?

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The sun rose the next morning, and Crosshair was gone as quickly as he had come.

Six months. That’s all you had to endure. Six months.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You woke up, once again filled with anticipation. It had been just about six months since Crosshair left. Actually, six months and 14 days. But who was counting? Not you.

The day passed slowly and uneventfully, with you and Amaia mostly spending the time outside as you were accustomed to doing. Not only was the weather delightful, but being able to see Crosshair as soon as he appeared was a motivation you were all too willing to own up to.

Like every other day recently, it ended in disappointment. When you finally wrangled Amaia into bed, you made yourself a cup of tea and sat by the window to wistfully look over the darkening horizon until your hope for the day was extinguished.

And so passed six months and 15 days. Six months and 28 days. Seven months and 12 days. Nine months and three days. One year, two months and 17 days. Two years on the dot.

Of course there were visits from Amaia’s ba’vode. And any time they came was a delightful distraction, but even they could see the wear the waiting was taking on you. You were no longer your chipper self, convinced Crosshair had either changed his mind or was dead. You weren’t sure which was worse.

At two years, one month, and one day, you finally gave up. He wasn’t coming.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Amaia was now a rambunctious five-year-old, running around with the village children and making all sorts of trouble and mess. Today, you had sent her off to a friend's house, with the promise you would take the terrors that were your children the next day so Carra could have a break of her own.

You were engrossed in washing dishes, humming and swaying to an impromptu song. You’d finally started to feel yourself again, even entertained thoughts of seeing one of the men in the village. Kane was kind, and was never anything but gentle in his interactions with Amaia.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts you didn’t hear the door open, didn’t hear the bag that was sat down in the entryway, or the sound of feet swung up on your kitchen table. In fact, you didn’t notice anything until you were suddenly aware of everything. The dish slipped from your hand and shattered in the sink. Swallowing in an attempt to wet your suddenly dry-as-Tatooine mouth, you could only think of one thing to say.

“Get your kriffing feet off my table, Cross.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice as he responded. “Come over here and make me, mesh’la.”

#tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair #the bad batch crosshair #allie scribbles about crosshair

[allie-scribbles]

Please.

#i need some loving #so tired #need snuggles #tech my baby #tbb tech #tech the bad batch #allie scribbles about tech

[allie-scribbles]

I’m a simple woman: I just want Tech to play with my hair and read to me til I fall asleep.

#it’s been a DAY y’all #those long fingers would feel so good #allie scribbles about tech #tech my baby #the bad batch #tbb tech #the bad batch tech