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mylifeisactuallyamess · 1 year

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Chapter 12: Recovery

A/N: I finished sitting this so I decided to get it out, because in true ADHD fashion I can’t keep it to myself.

Warnings: Incorrect medical talk (probably.) lots of feels, so much touching in this chapter omg. Probably more ND behaviour (definitely). Erm…feelings *insert Crowley gif here.*

Word Count: 5.4k+

You lost track of the days. Hours shifted, blending into one long continuous run of you worrying about Tech. Tesama stepped right into the breach with Beetoo, the pair of them running the medcentre while you watched monitors and ever changing numbers.

Tech had contracted an infection. It was inevitable really, performing such a drastic surgery in the ship rather than back here where it was clean and sterile. He needed more blood which Hunter and Wrecker seemed more than willing to provide, but you put a stop to that when Hunter accidentally gave too much and nearly passed out in the chair.

They visited whenever they could, checking on you and Tech, usually Omega stayed behind when the others went on missions; her knowledge was invaluable when it came to the clones.

You were stretched. Pushing your own knowledge and experience to the absolute limit even when it came so naturally. You had taken to sleeping on a cot in Tech’s room, your senses attuned to any changes in his breathing or heart rate even without the machines you had him hooked up to.

Right now you were staring at him, wishing he would just open his eyes and look at you with those haloed irises you missed so much. It was late, the medcentre was quiet from the daily hustle and bustle that had become your background noise. The space was lit via the blue screens that showed you everything you needed to know about your patient and how he was doing.

Gently you took his limp hand, wrapping his large fingers around your own and imagining him giving it a squeeze. You could feel how hot he was, but he wasn’t as blazing with a fever as he was a few days ago, it was slowly retreating. Just not quick enough for your liking.

You had kept him in a coma, the life support machine a constant noise in his room and probably the only thing that kept you tethered to this reality. But the fever had dipped and he didn’t need to be in an induced coma anymore, so you could move him to the bacta tank.

He needed to wake up though. Perching your hip on his bed your eyes travelled over all the things that belonged to Tech; his goggles, his tools, his belt hung off the chair, his pack and helmet sat in the corner with the rest of his armour. Hunter had got him a new body suit and armour padding which you’d folded up nicely and stacked next to his pack.

It wasn’t right. None of this was. You squeezed his slack hand and wiped some stray tears off your cheek. You had been walking a fine line before this had happened and now it felt like a tightrope; taught under your feet, cutting into your soles with each step. Your balance was slipping, dragging you one way and then the other, neither ending promising to be happy.

Absently you played with his fingers, putting them against your own and comparing sizes. You loved Tech’s hands, knowing how nimble and sure they were with everything he did; whether it be adjusting the fine circuits in a droid or tapping away on his datapad. You missed hearing his voice, the random facts he loved to share and the calming effect he had on you.

“You know,” your voice cracked from lack of use. “Omega said you need a shave.” She wasn’t wrong, his stubble was growing, casting a dark shadow over his face. “I’ll ask Hunter tomorrow because he needs one too. He’s so worried about you, they’re all worried about you.” You glanced up at him, watching the forced breath in his chest as the life support machine did its job, wishing the life you saw wasn’t artificial. “I wish you’d come back,” you whispered, sucking your lips into your mouth to stop them trembling and looking up at the wall. “I miss you, Tech. No one sees me like you do and I…I need you.”

You searched his expression for a sign, a flicker, anything but got nothing. You fixed your gaze on the screen, noticing his brain activity was still there, the EEG was reading a positive output.

Closing your eyes, you dipped into that well of yourself you’d been avoiding, the one that felt like infinity was at your fingertips. It stretched and flowed, taunting and calling you to fall into it once again. You wouldn’t ever forget the rush it gave you, the exhilaration that this power offered but it scared you senseless. You didn’t consciously know what you were doing with it. It was like someone handing you a fathier and telling you to ride it when you’d never seen one before.

And yet, you delved into it now. It had always been there, slipping into your instincts without you even knowing what was happening. Surging through your hands when you needed it to save someone…anyone but yourself.

Putting your hand over Tech’s you closed your eyes and breathed. You remembered that moment in the Marauder with the Purrgil, the lights that shimmered over you both, Tech’s closeness and his excitement at finally seeing something that fascinated him so much.

You got lost in the muted rhythm of his body, the flow of his blood, the knock of his heart and the billow of his lungs. It was calming, as though you were communicating with him in the only way you knew how.

You put his hand down, withdrawing completely and making your way over to your cot. A sigh was pushed from your body as you looked at the ceiling, drifting a hand over your tired eyes.

Maybe tomorrow would be the day he wakes up.

When you woke, the first thing you sensed was someone else was in the room. Slowly you opened your eyes to find Hunter slumped in the chair beside his brother, chin in the palm of his hand as he dozed. Quietly you got up but it wasn’t quiet enough, his eyes snapped open and you froze.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t asleep.” You checked the monitors, seeing there was no change in Tech’s condition and disappointment filled your chest. So you did the only thing you could do and go through the motions.

“Hi Tech,” you said, forcing a cheery tone into the words. “Hunter is here to see you this morning…” you glanced at him for confirmation and he nodded. “Yes, morning.” You flicked the torch across his eyes, noting a consistent response from his pupils. “No doubt the others will be along later. Echo has been trying fix Beetoo’s charging problems but he can’t find anything in the diagnostic.” Turning the bottom of the cover you exposed Tech’s feet and ran a finger along the sole of his foot, pleased with the toe movement as you did. “Nerves are healing nicely,” you murmured.

“Stitch…” in one word Hunter had asked a thousand questions that had all been asked before.

“We could try today.”

“Yeah?” You caught the look of hope on his face, split between the light and dark of his tattoo and it tugged at your tired heart.

“He needs to wake up so we can get him in the tank. Don’t tell the others.” His gaze dipped, the fall of his mouth spoke disappointment, nonetheless he nodded in agreement.

“They’re taking Omega on a supply run today anyway.”

“If you want to join them I can let you know how it goes?” But Hunter shook his head, eyes on his brother’s prone body as he leaned back in the chair.

“I want to be here when he wakes up.” You couldn’t argue with that.

You let Tesama and Beetoo know you were going to be totally unavailable today and sealed yourself in the room with Hunter and Tech. You turned down the sedation drug and settled yourself in for a wait. These things took time and you were prepared for the wait. Still, you couldn’t just sit, so you walked slowly round the room with your datapad; catching up on the reports and payments from the last few days.

Hunter sat quietly in the chair, his eyes tracking your movement while his fingers toyed with his knife. You heard the movement, the quiet scrape when he unsheathed it and the slight sing in the air as he twirled it amongst his fingers, never dropping it. It was distracting and you could feel yourself getting annoyed, so the next time you walked past him you plucked it easily from his grip.

His hand was still held up in surprise at your swift movement, brown eyes falling on the blade that was now caught between two of your fingers. “Now where did you learn to do that?” His gravelly voice laced with curiosity.

“I can hear it…whistling. If you need to fidget I could find you something to do.” You held out the hilt for him to take and he slipped back into his vambrace with a well practised move.

“We haven’t started your training,” he mused. “That would keep us both entertained.”

“Nice try. Not in here.” He hummed and slumped back in the seat with his arms crossed.

“We could talk. Shouldn’t Tech hear us?” You nodded, your gaze once again on the datapad.

“Ok, how is Omega after the last mission?” You waited for a response but the silence continued on too long and you glanced up to see him frowning at his knees. “That bad, huh?”

“She won’t talk to us,” he admitted.

“She’s been through and seen a lot,” you told him as you carried on your slow walk round the room. “I can try if you’d like?”

“You can try.” The monitor beeped and you stepped up to the bed, pulling the screen to face you.

“He’s waking up! Move!” You’d never snapped at Hunter before and he rose up, dragging the chair at the same time to get out of your way.

You worked on pulling out Tech’s ventilation tube, easing it from his throat and setting it to the side. The alarms rang, such a high pitched whining noise and you felt Hunter approach. Tech choked, his throat had been held open all this time, his body had forgotten how to breathe on its own, he needed to relearn. And fast.

Hunter was behind you, his eyes trained on the screen over your shoulder. You could sense his apprehension, the tightening in his chest at the flatline that traveled across the screen but amidst all that, was trust. He was standing here, not saying a word while his brother seemingly died before his eyes because he trusted you.

At the first faint bleep you both let out a sigh of relief. His vitals began to rise and his chest expanded on its own. Your laugh was almost hysterical, you were on the verge of exploding into action to save this clones life and now you didn’t need to.

Your laughs quickly became sobs as you gripped Tech’s hand. The tension you’d felt since they came home had come to a head and you were letting it out in the only way you knew how.

“He’s going to be ok,” Hunter murmured, his fingers reaching for you in the vain hope you’d let him comfort you.

“I’m e-exhausted,” you managed to get out between the shuddering breaths, moving out of his reach. “I’m not done yet.” Pulling yourself together you coughed, wiping your face and blinking your eyes wide. “He needs to be monitored, he’s still on the painkillers but he’s—he’s breathing on his own. Good heartbeat, brain activity…” you bent over Tech and shone the torch in his eyes, pleased to see a reaction and some resistance to your touch. “Talk to him.” Your voice was still too watery, you didn’t want Tech to wake up seeing you a complete mess.

“Tech? It’s Hunter.” He seemed lost for something else to say and shrugged a little when you looked up at him.

“Talk about the weather, what the time is, where the others are.”

“Right. Well Echo is sick of maintaining the ship by himself. Omega is bored and has memorised everything you’ve given her so far, Wrecker dropped Gonky the other day when he was lifting him. Now the droid is more defective than ever.” Taking a deep breath you swiped at your face, tugging on the tunic you’d worn for, you don’t know how long, and stepped up beside the bed.

“Tech. It’s Stitch.” You saw some activity on his face, a little frown followed by the lightest groan. “Can you squeeze my hand?” You gripped him firmly and waited. Then it came, the flex of his fingers and you nearly cried again. “Good.”

“Yeah?”

“Means he can hear us and he has cognitive function,” you told Hunter. “Which is good, very good.”

“Tech, brother…” for the first time you heard the worry come through in Hunter’s words as he dipped his head. “You had us worried.” As he continued to talk in a low voice you backed against the wall. Using the corner to wedge in like you used to do with Gonky on the ship, squeezing yourself in there tightly and dropping so you could hug your knees close.

More tears fell, you managed to hold back the sobs, just letting the moisture cascade down your face as you listened to Hunter talk to his brother.

“Stitch, his eyes. He opened his eyes.” Thank the Maker.

“That’s good. That’s really good.” Hunter stood up and looked at you over the bed, understanding filling his gaze as soon as he saw you on the floor.

Your heart jumped when a sound came from the bed, a hard groan of someone waking up after a very long sleep. You clocked the movement of his foot, the sharp inhale when he stretched for the first time in days and the flick of his fingers.

“Hunter…” he recognised Hunter. Another thing checked off the list. “I can’t see.” If you weren’t so emotionally ripped up you probably would have laughed. Tech’s immediate reaction was he couldn’t see without his goggles was such a Tech thing, it made you hug yourself tighter.

You watched as Hunter put them on for him, carefully adjusting them so they were just right on his brothers face and sitting the bed up slightly.

“My leg…” Tech moaned.

“Easy now, Tech.” Now you had to move, hoping your face didn’t betray the fact you’d been crying as you wiped it clear of tears. You couldn’t look at him, even as you stood on his injured side with Hunter just behind your shoulder. You took your time updating his records, his eyes tracking your movement as you clicked on the screen and added the details to your datapad. Hinter have him some water and you noted his breathing was a little rushed, he felt apprehensive and you could feel his burning need to know how he was.

“Do you want to know what happened?” You asked quietly, watching his hand fidget with the blanket.

“Yes.” You hesitated, allowing yourself a moment to fall behind your medic mask before you flipped a section of the blanket back to reveal the leg you’d operated on.

“You sustained extensive damage to the break, it was a closed fracture on the femoral shaft that needed to be reduced and fixed in place with metal rods and bolts. When they finally got you to me I had cut open your leg and relieve the hematoma, Hunter and Wrecker both gave you blood at the time as the loss was…a lot.” Your fingers clenched, still the sticky residue tortured your senses. “I managed to reattach blood vessels and nerves and you should regain the full use of your leg. Recovery will be long.” Now you glanced up, to see a grim expression on his face, one that told you he understood everything you’d said and what it meant. “We need to strengthen your muscle, and we’re looking at you being here at minimum, 4 to 5 months.” Hunter puffed out breath, scratching at the stubble on his cheek as he let your words sink in.

“I’m not sure Tech can sit still for that long.”

“Only at first and then I don’t see why he can’t fly the ship for easy missions,” you stressed, pushing a finger into Hunters chestplate before moving away. “I’ll get the tank set up and bring it in.”

Tech had installed repulsors on the tank so you were able to move it on your own. Once you’d set the programme you left Hunter to help Tech get into the tank. You’d picked up on his nervous energy and the way he kept glancing at you out the corner of his eyes, so you suggested you take a break and Hunter agreed.

Your room felt alien. It had only been a few days but it no longer felt familiar and you tried not to dwell on it stepping straight into the refresher. Letting the hot water cascade over your body you tried to empty your mind but all you could think about was Tech’s rehabilitation plan.

You weren’t done yet.

Very quickly your private patient room became Tech’s bedroom. He was building himself a leg brace and you didn’t have it in you to tell him no. It did him good to still use his hands, exercise his mind and it kept him busy.

It was time for his submersion into the tank. He went in every morning for a couple of hours and then you did your obs and checked on his leg. Routine, you always did it in the same order so he didn’t have surprises. Even now you were stood outside his room, waiting for the time to tick over the last minute.

It concerned you how much his body reacted your presence, you put it down to nerves about going in the tank. You had to touch him, help him and you wouldn’t have found it comfortable if you were in his position.

The door opened and you breezed in finding him sat on the edge of the bed as he waited for you. Instantly you noticed the way his hand jerked away from his thigh, planting on the bed and fisting on the covers as he glared at the wall. He was stripped down, ready for immersion into the bacta.

“Good morning,” you said, eyeing the screen beside his bed. No temp, good heart rhythm, nothing worrying at all. “Are you ready?” You pressed the buttons on the tank, turning to glance at him over your shoulder.

“Yes,” he replied stiffly. As you approached the monitor beeped to alert you to a change in his heartbeat and he stared at it like it had betrayed him. “I am still not accustomed to being touched in such a way.”

“I am just your medic, Tech.”

“You are more to me than just a medic.” Oh.

“I can get Tesama…”

“No. I would rather it was you.” You weren’t sure what to do with what he’d just told you. Putting down the datapad you relied on all you had left, routine. Slipping your arm around his bare body, feeling his arm over your shoulder as you wrapped your fingers against the curve of his side and you felt his inhale; desperately trying not to flinch away from you.

He hopped on one leg, grimacing as he did, little grunts of pain falling from between his clenched teeth until he slipped into the warm bacta. His relief was palpable when you stopped touching him, going to retrieve his breathing mask.

“Two hours and I’ll be back.” He nodded, handing you his goggles, eyes going wide as his vision deteriorated instantly. You wanted to comfort him, seeing the way his hands were moving in the fluid as he tried to find something to fiddle with. “Oh!” He glanced at you watching as you fished around in the pocket of your tunic and pulled out a puzzle box. “Omega found this on a supply run and she asked me to give it to you but I kept forgetting. It should keep you busy in the tank.” You tapped the screen. “I see you don’t sleep.”

“I find it hard to make my brain relax in such an environment. My mental knowledge, regretfully, only stretches so far and I have recounted everything I know at least 10 times already.” His fingers flexed, grateful to have something to do.

“Let’s get this on,” you encouraged gently. His eyes went even wide as you leaned in, settling the mask in place and pressurising it to his face with a soft hiss. “Two hours.”

As you were closing his door Tesama peered round the corner. She looked slightly concerned and you tilted your head. “Out with it.”

“Well, there’s another one of those clones here. He won’t let me near him, demanding you.”

“Which one?” You asked checking the readings from Tech’s tank one final time before heading to the bays.

“He says his name is Echo.” Your steps hurried. Echo hardly ever came in here and he was the one who if anything went wrong, it could be catastrophic. “He’s in your office.” She dropped away as you entered, seeing Echo on the bench in your office. He seemed all in one piece, just a scowl adoring his brow, his sense of agitation was making your skin tingle and you gently put the datapad down.

“Echo.” He flinched at the sound of your voice. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s…” the scowl deepened and he looked away from you. The feeling from him changed subtly and that’s when you discovered, he was embarrassed.

“Take your time,” you said gently. “I know this must be difficult for you.” He huffed, his pale gold eyes finally shifting in your direction.

“I feel like a di’kut.” You sat in the chair, turning it round to face him as you waited for an explanation. You could sense he was in good health, the rhythm of his blood was steady, the sense of his aura was strong and not flickering. “I have sand,” he blurted out.

“Sand?” You queried, that was the last thing you’d excepted.

“Sand. In places I don’t want sand.” It took you a few moments to understand what he was saying and you looked down at his scomp. He tried to spin it only for it to get stuck after a couple of rotations.

“Anywhere else?” He gestured with his hand, encompassing his back and legs.

“I can feel it in all the—sockets. I didn’t know where else to go,” he confessed quietly, a blush rising on his pale cheeks.

“Stay here.”

“Oh don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” he grumpily mumbled, crossing his arms. You went outside and collared Beetoo.

“If you had sand in your joints would an oil bath get rid of it?” You asked her quietly.

“For a droid, an oil bath is the best form of ridding debris.”

“Thanks Bee.” You busied yourself in the storage room, trying to find a container that would hold enough oil for Echo to bathe his legs. Finally you found one, activating the portable repulsers so you could drift it back to your office once you filled it up. You also grabbed a load of brushes and other tools not really sure how you were going to get the rest of the sand out of him.

He eyed you suspiciously when you guided the small tank in, scowling so deeply you wondered if the lines were going to become permanent.

“What’s all this?”

“You asked for my help,” you stated. He leaned back on one leg as you moved the bench away from the wall and putting it in the middle of the room. The repulsers switched off and you adjusted it all to where you thought it should be. “Ok. Strip off.”

“Strip?!” He looked so shocked you nearly giggled.

“Echo. I need to access the ports so I can clean them out. You need to immerse your legs in the oil and your scomp. It’s going to be uncomfortable but there is no other way.” You understood his hesitation, he hated anything thing like this and you were demanding he bare all the things he hated about himself to you. To be touched, meddled with, to be explored in ways he never wanted to again.

“This is the only way?”

“I’m afraid so. If you don’t want me to do it I could ask Beetoo…”

“No!” His hand and scomp went up, his pulse throbbed and you stopped talking. “No droids.”

“Let me know when you’re ready and we can begin.” You picked up the datapad, turning your body away so weren’t watching him. You checked on Tech, happy to see his numbers were more relaxed this time, the puzzle box clearly helping him settle. You heard Echo remove his kama, the utility belt dropping and the griptions loosening as he shed his armour. He looked hopefully at you but you gave him a slow shake of your head, you needed his padding off and he knew it. The sigh was resigned, if you could have seen it you were sure it would have been like a durasteel weight leaving him but he began to take it off anyway.

“Now what?” His voice wavered slightly and you made your face expressionless. You’d never seen Echo so bare before and the true nature of his remaking became apparent. It was barbaric. If only you’d been there when he’d been freed…the devastation would have been less.

“Step into the tank, and sit down. I will warn you about any moves I make and if anything feels uncomfortable or wrong, please tell me.” He gave you a curt nod. His eyes were dull, trying to hide his discomfort but it was coming off of him in suffocating waves. As soon as he was settled you approached him some tools and you saw him recoil a little. “I’m going to work on your scomp first, then we can bathe that too. Ok?”

“Mmhmm.” You were gentle as you reached for him. Echo turned his face away, closing his eyes as tremors of apprehension rippled through his feelings, the worry that you would be repulsed from him followed by surprise when you didn’t flinch.

You ran a practised eye over his cybernetics, seeing where the problems were and you got to work on trying to dig out the grains. It was gruelling, and you stayed tapped into his feelings as you worked; making sure you weren’t hurting him. Sand worked free from some of the mechanism and you asked him to spin it, seeing the movement was much freer. You asked him to submerge the scomp in the oil before moving round behind him.

His entire back tensed as you looked at what had been done to him. Black sockets ran down his spine and you felt a wave of rage that someone thought they had the right to do this to another living thing.

“Are you ok with me touching you, Echo? I need to brush these out.”

“Got no choice,” he muttered gruffly. “Just do it.” He was hunched over, holding his head in his hands as you started. The brush did wonders for dislodging the looser grains, hearing it hiss free was so satisfactory.

“I’m going to blow, on it,” you warned him quietly.

“Mmm.” His entire body tensed, muscles bulging as you carefully blew across his skin and swept away any stray grains before moving onto the next socket. By the time you’d reached the back of his neck your arms were protesting but you needed to finish. In this time he had relaxed, arm lowered and his face not so tortured as he got used to the contact. Still you communicated with him, letting him know everything you were doing in a calming voice that he listened to. His feelings settled, they weren’t so volatile anymore and you raised an eyebrow when you blew across his pale skin, sensing a change in his demeanour.

“Was that ok?” You asked. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” He refused to elaborate with a jut of his chin, fixing his glare on the wall so you decided not to probe any further. Tenderly you dusted your fingers over the spread of his shoulders, noticing the hitch his breath as you did.

“I’ve done what I can, a quick shower should rid you of any stray bits. Let’s check your scomp.” He lifted it free of the oil and you wiped it clean. Echo gave it a spin, his face breaking out in a hopeful smile as it moved without hindrance. “Standup, legs next.” He leaned on you, his hand clutching at yours as you took some of his weight until he was free of the oil bath. You went to wipe down his legs but he grabbed the cloth, making you look up at him.

“I-I can do it.” He refused to look at your face, the telltale blush once again rising on his cheeks and you backed up. Turning round you grabbed the datapad.

“Echo, I need to get Tech out of the tank.”

“I’ll be ok,” he told you a sense of relief injecting into his words.

“Be back in a bit. Then you can visit him.” From one clone who didn’t like being touched to another who panicked when you entered the room. Tech had already opened the top of the tank and was sitting up as he waited for you. “I’m sorry! Echo came in with an issue.”

“Echo? What is the issue?” You grabbed a towel, letting Tech lean on you as the bacta dropped off his chiselled body. Quickly you wrapped him up, stopping him from shivering as you ran your hand up and down his arms. “Stitch?”

“Oh,” your thoughts dissipated and you looked up him, seeing the way his gaze dilated when your eyes locked for a second before he broke the connection. “Yeah, Echo is ok. He said he’ll come and visit you when you’re ready.” Tech hobbled over to the bed with your help, the pain much less this time. “Do you want me to towel dry your hair?”

“Yes.” You didn’t think much of it as you reached for a smaller towel, but when you started your senses heightened. He smelled like the bacta, fresh and healing; the heat of his body came through the material and you slowed your hands to really make sure his rich chestnut locks were dry. You tapped into his feelings, noticing the way his heart rate was accelerating once again. It made you sad that he was so anxious from your touch even though you understood. Most of the time you couldn’t bare the idea but here, now, with Tech; you wanted nothing more than to feel him.

It hurt. Withdrawing yourself you quickly finished, absently drawing your fingers through his hair. Even damp you appreciated the softness of it, catching the stray stands and nudging them back to how he liked it. The colour was glorious, almost fiery in some lights, a deep rich hue in others. In all lights he shone for you. The rush of emotion you felt for him almost caught you off guard, sweeping around you like a soft embrace and you worked quickly to untangle yourself from it.

So wrapped up in what you thought were your own emotions you missed the way Tech’s eyes widened dramatically at the feel of your fingers in his hair as he looked at his covered knees. “There. That’s the best I can do.” You announced, stepping back. You rolled the wet towel up and placed his clothes and goggles on the bed next to him. You were about open the door when he called your name.

“Hmm?” He looked a little flustered, his eyes darting about as he adjusted his goggles with his graceful fingers and you fixated on the motion.

“I appreciate…you. You are good at your job.” You hitched up a smile but it didn’t reach your eyes.

“It helps you’re such an easy patient. Get dressed and then you can catch up with Echo.” The door opened and then slid closed behind you.

Ducking into your room for a moment you closed your eyes and let out a shaky breath. You had no idea why Tech’s words had made your stomach twist back on itself; maybe because you hoped he was going to say something else? It was ridiculous really, no one could force someone to have feelings and his clearly didn’t reach the level that yours did.

#sanctuary #tech x reader(stitch)#tech x you #tech x reader #tbb tech x reader #tbb tech x you #tech #the bad batch #tech the bad batch

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missfrieden · 5 months

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Tech as a father Chapter 20

A lighthearted moment, but how long will it last?

Masterlist

Chapter 20: Increasing mobility can cause pain

In the dimly lit quarters of the Havoc Marauder, the gentle hum of the ship's systems filled the air as the members of Clone Force 99 slept. Tech, always the meticulous one, had arranged his bunk to accommodate Orion comfortably. The breastfeeding pillow was carefully curved around him, creating a secure and snug space for the infant.

However, even with the best preparations, infants are known to be unpredictable. Orion, at four months old, had already developed a knack for moving around, especially during his sleep. His tiny legs would kick, and he would wiggle, exploring the confines of his secure nest. On this particular night, while Tech slept soundly, Orion's restless legs began to move more vigorously. With a sudden, unexpected kick, he caught Tech square in the face. The impact was gentle but enough to rouse Tech from his slumber.

Tech blinked, dazed for a moment, as he realized what had just happened. He glanced down at Orion, who, oblivious to the commotion, was now wiggling his toes contentedly. Tech couldn't help but smile, even as he adjusted the position of the breastfeeding pillow and gently touched his face where Orion's tiny foot had made contact. "Quite the kicker, aren't you?" Tech whispered affectionately to his son, who responded with a soft gurgle and a sleepy, toothless grin. Tech settled back down, careful to avoid any future foot-to-face encounters, and closed his eyes, cherishing these precious moments of fatherhood.

The next day Hunter sat in his bunk, enjoying some quality time with his energetic nephew, Orion. Holding the baby securely under his arms, he relished in the sound of Orion's joyful laughter and delighted squeals. Orion was clearly having a great time, jumping up and down with all the enthusiasm his little legs could muster, though it did require some assistance given his still limited motor skills.

As Orion gleefully bounced on Hunter's leg, the little one managed to land an unexpectedly hard stomp right into Hunter's crotch area. Orion, too young to understand the concept of pain, continued to giggle and bounce while his uncle's face contorted in discomfort. Hunter, trying to be a good sport despite the unexpected blow, finally had to gently lower Orion to his bunk. He bent over, clutching his aching crotch, trying to stifle the pain that had been inflicted upon him by his enthusiastic nephew.

Wrecker and Crosshair, witnessing the whole incident, found themselves in a tricky situation. They struggled not to burst into laughter at the comical turn of events, knowing that Hunter's discomfort was genuine but unable to contain the humour of the situation. Orion, blissfully unaware of the consequences of his spirited play, continued to coo and babble happily from his uncle’s bunk, while Hunter slowly recovered from the unexpected hit.

Tech quickly fetched an ice pack for Hunter, knowing that his brother needed some relief from the unexpected discomfort. He handed it to Hunter with a smirk, and his usual factual tone, he remarked, "There's a reason our armour has a codpiece, you know." Hunter, still in pain but able to crack a half-smile, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I remember that now," he admitted, wincing slightly as he shifted. "I guess next time I play with Orion, I'll make sure to put it on." And Crosshair ow not able to hide his grin at the situation shakes his head.

Tech chuckled, understanding that accidents could happen in their unconventional living situation. He carefully picked up Orion, who was blissfully unaware of the events unfolding around him, and settled the baby comfortably in his arms. Their bunk area is filled with the sound of their banter and Orion's coos, a testament to the unique blend of camaraderie and familial love that defined Clone Force 99. In the end, their ability to find humour in unexpected situations only strengthened the bonds they shared as brothers and as caregivers to the youngest member of their squad.

Chapter 21

Reblogs are very welcome and I am open for feedback, as english is not my first language, so maybe my sentences may be weird sometimes, or I write a word wrong even with google, or I use a wrong word for an item.

Tag: @spectacular-skywalker @aalizazareth @neyswxrld @clonethirstingisreal

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sergeantgoggles · 1 year

Text

Title: Floating On Your Memories Ship: Huntech [Hunter/Tech] Rated: G Summary: The things they used to do as cadets still bring them joy today, and it's perfect. Warnings: Too sweet. Go buy floss. Word Count: 1204

For @inconocible

Long past were the days of being a cadet running through the halls from lesson to lesson, racing to the mess for meals just to see who could get there first. In those days, Crosshair would usually win. He had the depth perception and agility to weave in and out of the long necks and fellow clones with accuracy. Wrecker would always barrel through everyone standing in his way, which caused more commotion than necessary and how they usually ended up in trouble with the Kaminoans and trainers.

Sometimes, though, Hunter and Tech would race. Statistically speaking, Tech had the higher percentage chance of winning, and he usually did, but Hunter was never far behind him. Still, Tech always reminded him of that whenever the topic of speed came up.

Fast forward several years, and Hunter found himself in a similar situation as they sat outside one of their favorite bistro. Sunset was rapidly approaching and the market lights were due to kick on any minute. Tonight, like every night, was peaceful, but somehow the atmosphere felt different. Something between Hunter and Tech ignited as they watched Omega and Lyana chase a pack of moon-yo from one end of the square to the other and back.

“We used to run like that,” Hunter recalled with an amused smile.

“Yes, however, we grew up and ran from more important things than each other,” Tech countered with his own smirk as he nursed a glass of something clear and sparkling.

“Like our feelings?” Hunter’s suggestion made Tech look up from his datapad, and his smile grew when Tech softened.

“We have not run from our feelings for one another in quite some time. Having a life free from the Empire has offered us a new perspective on that aspect of our lives.” Tech spoke reverently at first, then turned a challenging eye to his husband, “and if I recall correctly, which I usually do, I still have a higher winning percentage than you.”

With a raised brow in question, Hunter took a sip of his own drink and eyed Tech suspiciously. “Think you can still keep up?”

“If you are asking if I think I can still beat you in a race, then yes, I do,” Tech replied and set his drink down empty. He stood and pocketed his datapad, waiting for Hunter expectantly.

“You mean now?” Hunter laughed as he downed the rest of his drink and threw a few credits on the table.

“Why not?” Tech sauntered away, and Hunter just knew he was being taunted. “Unless, you do not think you are up to the challenge?”

Hunter followed, and they drew a crowd around them as people lined up to watch them square off. “Down to the beach. Loser has to take Omega flying tomorrow.”

A triumphant grin spread on Hunter’s lips as Tech audibly groaned. She was getting better, but his poor nerves could only handle so much, and he was still recovering from the last rough landing a few days ago.

“Fine,” Tech agreed, though reluctantly. “I hope you are prepared to admit defeat when I inevitably defeat you.”

Smack talk. Cute. Hunter shivered and chuckled. “We’ll see about that.”

The commotion caught Omega’s attention, too, and she ran to head them off, hand raised over her head. “You’re going to race? Let me count you down!”

They nodded and took their stances, toes along one of the seams of sunlight streaking across the ground and it continued its descent. A certain giddiness surfaced in the pit of Hunter’s stomach. It had been a long time since Tech had really let his guard down and simply enjoyed the vibes around them. It wasn’t so long ago that Tech was something of a recluse, keeping to himself on his datapad and getting lost in anything and everything that he found fascinating. Now, well, it was nice to see him smile without fearing it would be the last.

“On my mark!” Omega yelled as Lyana joined her at her side. “Three, two–”

Neither of them waited for one. They took off at a sprint down the cobblestone street, weaving in and out of vendors, shoppers, and residents alike. It wasn’t much of a surprise to Hunter that Tech was more than able to keep up with him, and he couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from his lips as they caught one another’s eyes and ran faster.

Wind rushed through their hair as they sped towards the shoreline. A few of the townspeople leapt out of the way in surprise, but most watched on as they kept up the pace with smiles. An emotion that Hunter only started feeling more and more filled his veins. Elation.

The finish line in sight, they both cranked up the speed. As soon as the buildings disappeared from his peripheral Hunter could feel the sea salt stick to his skin and taste it in the breeze. The waves sang as they lapped up onto the sand, and their feet sank in their boots as they trudged through the grains. Their chests heaved, and Hunter made one final push to the end. Breathless, Hunter watched as Tech pulled ahead by the slightest margin, and as their feet hit the water, Hunter was forced to admit defeat.

Tech bent over with his hands resting on his knees as his breath caught up to him, but Hunter kept going, and in seconds they collided. Strong arms wrapped around Tech and hauled him off his feet, and Hunter twirled them in the water as Tech let out a loud burst of breathless, mirthful laughter. It was the kind of laughter that Hunter hadn’t heard from him in years, not since before the days their ruthless commando training began on Kamino. Of course, the years and rapid aging made the laugh deeper, but it was the same cadence, the same key in a melody that belonged solely to Tech and Tech alone.

As far as Hunter was concerned, Tech might have won the race, but he was the real winner, and his prize was hearing the sound of true happiness come from the love of his life. That was better than anything that anyone could ever offer him.

Setting Tech back on his feet, he was only slightly surprised to see Tech’s smile falter a bit as he reached his hand up. Hunter’s eyes watered, but they weren’t tears of pain or sadness. Instead, he blinked back tears of unbridled joy to be here in this moment. Pabu had given them everything he ever wanted for them after the war. It was exactly what he’d imagined in his dream of dreams, and it almost didn’t feel real, but Tech’s touch reminded him that they were here, and they were alive.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly with a slight, adorable tilt to his head.

Hunter was more than okay. He was amazing. Not even exchanging vows with Tech came close to this one snippet in time. Leaning in, Hunter sealed their lips together as the sun began its journey to the bottom of the ocean to sleep for another rotation.

“Yeah,” he whispered against his lips as they pulled apart, “I’m okay.”

#the bad batch #antis block and dni thnx #huntech #tbb tech #tbb hunter #clone shipping #cloneshipping #clone/clone #sergeantgoggles writing weekends #sgww prompt 5 week 2

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cuddles-with-dragons · 5 months

Text

Lightbulbs and Power Tools

So you're probably wondering what five Seawings, a pile of power tools on the floor, and a flatbed cart have to do with me.

I'll explain.

--- My name is Blake Smythe

I live on a outer rim planet that's basically a glorified fuel station with wild horses. We've got crappy coffee shops, fast-food restaurants, and a assortment of stores.

I just so happen to work at Home Depot.

I was walking to work when I saw a ship that I thought was a Omicron-class attack shuttle. Rare, they were known as Republic ships during the Clone Wars. My sister, Peyton, used to work as a mechanic for the Republic during the war, and was on the frontlines, so she knew all about their ships.

So anyway, I got to work, and it was all normal until this Seawing-Nightwing hybrid spoke up.

"I apologize for bothering you, but I am unable to find the lightbulbs I am looking for."

I plaster on my best customer service smile before turning around. "You're not bothering me at all! What type of lightbulb are you looking for?" This guy just screams computer nerd, and I'm not surprised when he pulls out a datapad and shows me a picture. "I need 15 of them. And I'd rather not share why." Oh, it's obvious why. Every lightbulb in the house broken by either a sibling or a pet.

"Of course! I'll look in the back." I scurry off to the storage area, and have just reached the lighbulbs when I hear a loud crash.

I run over to the place where I heard it, and just stare.

A Seawing-Mudwing and Seawing-Icewing are in a pile that used to be a power tool display, with a flatbed cart inbetween them. It's obvious the Mudwing hybrid was fooling around with the cart and ended up crashing into the display and the other dragon. The Sea/Mud is crouching next to to the Sea/Ice, asking him if he's okay and getting even more frantic when there's no response.

"Ohshitohshitohshit Crosshair you're not dead right? HUNTER GET OVER HERE I THINK I KILLED CROSSHAIR!"

"Wrecker, relax, I'm fine, everything's perfectly fine. The floor's comfortable, that's all."

"And you're buried under at least 25 pounds of power tools." I chime in.

A Sea/Sand hybrid shows up next to me, with a teenage Seawing next to him. He sighs.

"Wrecker, I told you not to mess around. Cross, you alright?"

"Oh, don't worry about me Hunter. I've had worse than a few power tools falling on me."

The Sea/Sand nervously chuckles, and it's now I notice the scars on the Sea/Ice. I'm no expert, but it looks like medical abuse. Poor guy.

I go back to the storage area and grab five 3-packs of the lightbulb the Sea/Night wanted. I head back to the aisle he was in, and he thanks me for finding them.

The rest of the day is pretty uneventful, and I head back home. --- Peyton greets me at the door, hopping around like an excited tooka. "You'll never guess who I saw today!"

Before I get a chance to answer, she continues. "I saw some guys I met on Anaxes! You know, the guys that almost ran me over landing? Well, I got to see them again, and meet their little sister, and have a chat while I fixed their ship! You know, Tech said he met a guy at Home Depot who looked just like you!"

I'm shocked by this information. "Lemme guess. Tech is the guy with the goggles and computer nerd vibes? Cause I did meet him briefly."

Peyton is as excited as a puppy. "No way! That's so cool! Well, Wrecker knocked Crosshair into a power tool display, and from what I hear, it was hilarious!"

"Yeah, I saw that too. The one who got knocked into the display... He didn't look like he had a good past." I reply, somewhat awkwardly.

My sister looks away.

"Well, they're staying a few days, maybe you could ask... I don't think you'll get any answers, though."

"Okay... What are we having for dinner? I'm starving."

#my fic #fanfic #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #tw implied abuse #home depot #in space #bad batch shenanigans #gta: flatbed cart

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kriffingunlucky · 3 years

Note

Hey I absolutely adore your writing and was wondering if I could request a female reader with Crosshair where the reader is just straight flirting with him and he’s completely clueless to it?

Uh, totally? This is absolutely perfect. >:] And omg! Thank you so much, dearest! I really appreciate that. You guys liking my work is all that keeps me going. So these compliments make my world brighter. I put a "read more" link because this got longer than I was expecting hehe.

-------------------------------------------------------------

This has been going on for way too long.

Every morning for the past couple of weeks you greet Crosshair with a chipper "good morning, handsome!", or a compliment of that sort. A huge smile plastered on your face. The day goes on, your tasks get done, but you always follow him around and spend whatever time you're able to with him. Smiling all the while. You help him with anything he could possibly need help with. You compliment and tease him. You pat his arms and shoulders affectionately.

Why hasn't the clueless asshole caught onto your hints yet?

You really thought you were being pretty damn obvious. But it's also kind of cute that he doesn't really notice it, or at least think anything of it, at least; you hope.

You lay on top of the Havoc Marauder. Deep in thought. Eyes cast onto the stars above you.

Another Republic base in a small village you all have docked yourselves at to stock back up on supplies, another gift you've snuck onboard for Crosshair. And he still thinks nothing of the kiss that came with it. Damnit.

Chatter spread throughout the Republic occupied space, you casually walking with Wreckers huge poncho over your shoulders back to the ship, trying to be as inconspicuous as you could be.

Which wasn't very inconspicuous.

Because as you approached the Marauder Hunter did a double take at you, brows furrowing in suspicion at your form.

"Hello, (Y/n). What are you doing out?" He crossed his arms firmly over his chest.

You scoffed, placing a hand over your chest. Mock hurt in your voice. "Can a girl not go out and enjoy the city while she finally has the time?"

"Mmhm," Hunter takes a breath in. Giving you an up-down scan. "Why are you wearing Wrecker's poncho?"

"It is comfortable."

"But you have your own that fits you perfectly fine."

"Yes but his is comfier."

"Okay. But it looks as if you're hiding something underneath it. You're more bulky."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"Wha- No? Why would I do that?"

"Because you're mean! You're questioning me!"

"(Y/n)-"

"I am going to cry. And it's all because of you."

"I-"

"ALL BECAUSE OF YOU."

The Sergent throws his hands into the air, groaning, absolutely exasperated. He turns to walk back to where he was before. Loading things into the cargo hold of their small home. "Fine! Whatever! I just hope that thing you're sneaking into the ship for reasons that are beyond me do not involve me! At all!"

You grin as smooth as a tooka cat, sauntering your way into the Marauder, cooing behind you. "No worries, sarge. You'll never hear of this again."

Shedding off the large poncho you'd worn, you lay it on Wrecker's bunk, yelling through the ship. "Thank you for the poncho lend, Wreck!"

In which you get a hardy laugh and, "No problem, little'un!" in response.

Taking your time unwrapping the large basket of sweets you'd smuggled into the ship, you repackage them in a fancy way. Thinking it's rather pretty before you pick it up and scamper to wherever you thought Crosshair might be.

With no luck on your first attempts, you hear Echo's breathy chuckle. "He is outside, napping, surprisingly. You'll see him. He's laying out on the grass like a dramatic starfish."

You grin and yell a loud "thank you" as you jog from the ship, clearing your throat a couple times as you look for him. It really didn't take long to find him sprawled out in the grass. Eyes open, and looking up at the sunset that paints the sky.

Good, so I don't have to wake him. You thought in a sigh of relief.

You open your mouth to speak as you halted yourself in front of him. Standing above his head.

But when he looked up at you with his honey filled eyes, you were love struck again, and at an awkward loss of words. Again.

"(Y/n)." He greets curtly. Not having anything against you, really, but also not being super friendly with you. He was, though, very curious as to what is in that basket of yours.

He was re-situating to see whatever you had in your hands better as you began to gather your thoughts again. "Hi, Cross!" Was your very annoying, in your own anxious opinion, start. "I brought'cha something!"

The sniper raises his silver eyebrows, holding his hands out to take it from you when you offered it towards him. He hummed in confirmation and interest when he set it in his lap.

He was sorting through the contents, so you took that extended silence to speak. "I bought you some sweets from the village venders, because you're a sweet treat yourself!"

Crosshair snorted a small laugh, picking through the items and very silently judging them. You swallowed as you kept smiling. Worried you'd overdone it this time.

But when he looked up at you, meeting your eyes, his expression was absolutely beaming. No, he wasn't smiling. Nor was he really showing that he was happy with it through his facial expression par say. It was through the vibrancy of his eyes that you could tell he loved it.

They were extra shimmery.

"Hope you like it." You grinned, very satisfied with your results. And with a newfound confidence, you leaned down, kissing his cheek softly.

Turning around and walking away, practically skipping, actually, you left a dumbfounded but now quietly happy Crosshair behind you.

And you hadn't heard anything about it from him since. You rubbed your face, half of you frustrated and the other half was entertained by his obliviousness. You'd all eaten dinner together, and laughed about the day.

Tech said that you were making heart eyes at Cross the whole time, but, you refuse to believe that. Even though Echo and Wrecker second that accusation.

"I can be happy being his friend." You spoke to yourself, trying to convince your own brain of this, "He doesn't have to like me the way I like him."

The silence outside was almost mocking your statement.

"Who am I kidding?" You groaned into your hands.

Moments later, after you'd calmed down and just ended up silently gazing at the stars. You heard footsteps climbing the latter to the top of the Marauder. Lifting your head a tad from your laying position you make eye contact with Crosshair.

Letting your head thump against the ground, you sigh quietly. Not even really having much energy to chat with him. You hoped he hasn't come up here to scold you for your gift. Calling it "dumb" and "unprofessional", like you'd worried he thought it was.

"Hey, handsome." You mumble. Adjusting your hands to lay on top of your stomach, laced together slackly, eyes cast away from him.

Crosshair comes close to you, and stands beside where you're sitting for a couple of moments. The atmosphere a tad tense. And you knew it was only because of your tired mind.

You'd been so confident about flirting with him before. But you've slowly come to worry, well, you're at least just worrying right now; that maybe he understands you're flirting and is just ignoring you.

Crosshair sits beside you with a small thump, not saying anything still. Crossing his legs, then pulling something out of the ammo pack on his belt, he hands it to you open palmed.

"Here." He spoke softly.

You hummed and sat yourself half up on your elbows, furrowing your brows at what he holds. You couldn't really see it. It was dark and unlike him, you didn't have enhanced vision. "What's this?"

The sniper snorts. "Take it and find out."

You huff a laugh and sit up fully, taking the mysterious object from his hands with care. Inspecting it for a moment, you soon come to a realization.

It's a piece of candy.

One of the piece's you'd given him earlier, to be exact.

"I thought I'd thank you for giving me those nice sweets." He commented, almost bashfully, when you'd looked up at him with a smile.

"Of course, honeypot! It's my pleasure." You grin and wiggle your body from side to side. Scooting a tad closer to him. Your heart fluttering when your actions earned a small smile from the man.

You love it when he smiles. Especially at you.

"Don't call me that." He huffed out, but with no venom in his voice. Shaking his head as he watched you re-situate closer to him.

"Awww," You whine playfully. "Why not, beautiful? You're as sweet as honey! It's a perfect fit."

"No. It's cringy."

"I'm hurt by your words," you joke as you gently lean your head onto his shoulder. Breathing in a big breath. "Can I call you honeybear?"

"Oh," He snorts, "Please no."

"What about just honey?"

Crosshair sighed, smiling, even though you couldn't see it. And laid his head on top of yours. "That will be acceptable if you insist on with these dumb honey themed names."

You giggled - arm hooking around his, small hand laying on top of the other's larger one, (e/c) eyes fluttering closed - then sighed. "Perfect."

And that is when Crosshair realized, he realized he was catching feelings for you. But much to his unknown relief, he's lucky you felt the same, because all of your pickup lines and pet names still haven't clicked for him. Not yet at least.

Just wait until he asks Tech about it.

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starilicious · 3 years

Text

ishq wala love (echo x gn!reader)

》 summary: reader comforts an insecure echo after the end of tbb episode 4 "cornered" about having mechanical parts as part of his body.

》 word count: ~2.2k

click here to read on AO3

》 warnings: slight sensory overload, mild panic attack (i think it could be classified as relatively vague in regards to the description), insecure echo about his body, a teensy bit of in universe swearing, lots of flufffff and a dash of angst here and there, no use of y/n [if i should add more warnings, please let me know!]

》 spoilers: extremely mild ones from tbb episode 4 "cornered"

》 a/n: hello! this is my first tbb fic, so i really hope i do the show, the characters, and the fandom justice hehe ^_^ over the past few days, i've become obsessed with tbb fics, particularly the echo x reader ones bc my GOODNESS this man is such a soft bean who deserves all the love in the galaxy. as a result, please enjoy this sleep-deprived frenzy of a fic that i wrote at 1 am and let me know your thoughts! :)

》 misc. notes:

• title of the fic is from the hindi song "ishq wala love" from the film student of the year. i've linked the song (in blue) with some pretty good english translations in case you would like to take a listen, but it isn't necessary for the fic–i just thought it fit well!

• i kind of got way too invested in building up the environment at the beginning, so apologies if it seems like a slow start! i just had to indulge in having the other characters there too <3

• please ignore the inaccuracies of the havoc marauder. i don't really know what the ship looks like, especially the living quarters, so i unintentionally ended up using the ghost from swr to guide my writing for that part.

• what the reader says at the end about the word in love in her native language is true. the language i'm referring to here is hindi, and we have several different words for love. in my very humble opinion, i think it’s one of the many characteristics of the language that makes hindi so sweet-sounding and poetic :)

• THANK YOU FOR 100 NOTES OMG AHHH YOU ALL ARE TRULY AMAZING 😭<333 (7/1/2021)

After Tech piloted the Bad Batch away from Pantora and safely entered hyperspace, you all decided to turn in to get some rest–or at least attempt to. With the bounty hunter scare, you and the boys figured it would be best to discuss what to do tomorrow morning, for Omega’s sake.

You tucked Omega in with her doll and offered her a comforting smile. “Don’t worry ‘Meg,” you said softly, running a gentle hand through her cropped blonde hair. “You’ll be safe, I promise. You’re stuck with us for life.”

Omega smiled sleepily at your teasing and held her arms out for a hug, one which you gladly indulge. “Sweet dreams, love,” you murmur as you let go. You shut off the lamp in her makeshift room and closed the curtains as you climbed down the ladder.

You turned around to find Hunter looking at you from his seat in front of the blinking controls. You raised an eyebrow as you plopped down in front of him unceremoniously, the exhaustion of the action-packed day catching up to you.

"You're good with her," he murmured as you both glanced at the light beige divider and you shrugged in response.

"Just looking out for her. Besides, you're not so bad yourself. She mimics your every move," you grinned. Hunter chuckled fondly as he recalled the memory where they were all stuck in the Kaminoan prison cell and Omega copied his every gesture.

The two of you lapsed in a comfortable silence as you mulled over the day's events, the hum of the ship thrumming beneath your feet.

"We'll be okay. It's tiring and difficult and none of us know how to raise a child, but we'll be okay," you said, breaking the quiet with optimism. You placed a hand on Hunter's shoulder and smiled. "Crosshair will be okay too. Have faith."

Hunter sighed but nodded in agreement as he put his hand over yours. "Goodnight," he said as he stood up, stretching his muscles.

"Sleep well."

You sat at the small table for a few more minutes to think before standing up yourself. You quickly checked in on Tech in the cockpit since he was on watch, and he immediately shooed you away, insisting you get some sleep. You had a feeling he only did so to optimize the ship in peace without distractions.

Nevertheless, you obliged and left him alone. Walking to the back of the ship, you completed your rounds. Wrecker was snoring loudly and you stifled a laugh. At least he was sleeping well–it was all you could ask for really. But frankly, you had no idea how Crosshair was ever able to sleep through it. Thinking about him and seeing his empty bunk made your heart pang in loss, but you were as determined as the rest of them to somehow bring him back. You had to.

You opened the door to Hunter and Tech’s shared room to find Hunter already sleeping soundly and you quickly left. With his enhanced senses, he was already a light sleeper, and compounded with his responsibilities as a leader, he rarely got any rest. You worried for him.

Last stop was your and Echo's room. You stepped in to find the light still on. Echo was sitting on the floor in front of your bunk, staring at the ground.

"Hey there handsome," you joked lightly in an attempt to get his attention and mask your unease. Echo usually only came near your bunk when something was wrong and after everything that happened today, it was safe to say you were concerned.

Echo didn't respond. Did he hear me? You make your way over to your lover and sit down in front of him. You place your hands on top of his.

"Echo, honey?" You said softly and finally finally he looked up at you. Your heart dropped into your stomach.

"Oh, darling," you breathed and you moved to his side to envelop him into a hug, his head resting comfortably in the crook of your neck. You didn’t say anything more–you saw the deep pain swirling in his eyes, the grief, the loss. The anger. You let Echo take the lead; you knew how difficult it was to wrangle raging thoughts and muster them into words.

You didn’t know how much time passed of you two sitting on the floor, breathing each other in before Echo spoke.

“Today… when we went on the supply run, I was dressed as a droid.”

You bit your lip, knowing exactly where this was going. But you didn’t interrupt, letting him continue. Your thumb rubbed absentmindedly on his arm as you listened.

“That vendor we were talking to wouldn't take what we had. And then he saw me,” Echo took a deep breath. You stayed quiet, holding his hand in a manner that you hoped soothed his anxieties at least a little bit.

“Hunter sold me as a droid to him. I-I know he doesn’t see me as a droid. I know that. But–” Echo’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat of the emotion building up. Echo didn’t know how to express what he wanted to say. He didn’t even want to speak it aloud–that would make it feel too real. And Echo severely doubted he could handle the heartbreak. Can I do this?

“Cyar’ika,” he murmured and you hummed in response. Echo pulled away from you, his hand still in yours. Now or never. “I need you to be completely, absolutely, 100% honest with me,” he whispered. Echo steeled his expression, doing his best to hide how terrified he truly was.

You nodded because of course you would be. When were you not?

But the way Echo gazed at you threw you off. Something was wrong, very wrong. You were almost scared of what he would say next, but you made a gesture for him to say what was on his mind. Clearly, this was important.

“Do you really want to be with me when I’m just–” Echo struggled with the last few words and you strained to pick them up with how they caught in his throat. “–a pathetic, disgusting, hybrid machine?” It’s out, I said it. I said it. Echo felt like he couldn’t breathe, the pressure on his chest too much, too much. He stared down at the floor, face flooded with shame.

You stared at him in blatant disbelief, eyebrows furrowed and mouth open from a shocked laugh. No no no Echo. You’re nothing of the sort. You didn’t move. Echo’s breath hitched as he looked back up at you, broken and open and raw.

“Don’t lie, please don’t lie to me. I know there's no way you could ever love me when I… when I look like this,” Echo whispered, but he may as well have shouted with the way the blood was rushing through your ears.

And then something in you snapped.

You removed your hands from his and placed them on his cheeks, pulling him in until your foreheads were touching. “Echo, you need to listen to me,” you instructed and heaved a breath as you tried to sort your own rushing thoughts into articulated words. But the effort was futile as your careful speech turned into a haphazard and passionate stream of consciousness.

His eyes glistened with unshed tears and your heart broke into pieces. Echo gave you all of his attention. What are you going to say? He didn’t want you to agree, but he would understand if you did. Echo felt disgusted with himself. The walls were closing in on him. Breathing was getting harder.

“You are the best damn thing that has ever happened to me. I don’t give one flying banthashit about any of your mechanical parts. If anyone ever says anything about them, they’re di’kuts and you can send them my way because I will not hesitate to punch some sense into them,” you spat with pure determination, not even noticing the Mando’a slip. After being surrounded by clones for so long, you absorbed bits and pieces of the language. You didn’t even register how Echo picked up on the word, much too focused on getting your point across. You were a person on a mission and nothing would stand in your way.

The knot in Echo’s stomach was loosening a bit, the storm in his mind beginning to break. The walls were a bit farther from him. He wasn’t drowning in his own presence anymore.

“Because you know what? You’re still my Echo. You’re a man, my dear. Not a machine. You never were, and never will be. These parts?” you gestured to his scomp link, his legs, the cybernetic implant in his head. “They mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. Don’t focus on them.”

You smiled sadly as you rubbed your thumbs gently on his cheeks. “I fell in love with you, Echo, not your body. I love the way you make me laugh, the way you comfort me, the way you cry with me. As much as I kriffing hate that you have been through so much pain because of those damned Separatists, I’m grateful for the fact that I’m in love with a man who would do anything for his family, for his brothers.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you remembered Fives coming back home from the Citadel but no Echo in sight. You would never admit it to anyone, but you swore a piece of you had died that day.

Echo felt like he was going to cry. The pressure that had been building up in his chest was releasing. He could breathe again, slowly, slowly. His only focus was you, was your words. The artificial lights didn’t seem to be as glaring now. They were softer, calmer.

“Echo, my love, even through it all, you not only survived, but you came out on top, victorious,” you paused, briefly overcome with how much love and gratitude you had for this wonderful man. “You came back to me, Echo, and you’re as handsome as ever. I have never stopped loving you, and never will. Don’t you ever forget that darling.”

Echo drew in a shaky breath. The harsh cold of the floor grates was biting into his skin, but he didn’t care. It grounded him as much as your warm touch on his face. He could breathe again. My cyar’ika.

Your fiery and passionate emotional speech came to an end as you stared into your lover’s eyes. There was so much more you could say, but you feared words would not be able to convey it all. You hoped your eyes would be enough to soothe his pained and tired soul.

Silent tears trailed down Echo’s face and you gently brushed them away as you pulled him into a tight hug. It was all you could do to not cry yourself. Echo was always so strong–you admired him for it.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice thick with appreciation and love. You didn’t say anything. There was no need to. The charged air between you both was enough. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence on the floor of the Havoc Marauder, deep in your own thoughts.

“Ishq wala love,” you muttered fondly after some time, still caught up in your own mind.

“Hm?” Echo questioned, curious as to what you said. The soft sound gently pulled you out of the clouds and back to the man in your arms as you attempted to explain.

“There’s a phrase in my native language, ishq wala love. You see, in Basic, there’s just one word for love, which is love. But back home, we have several different words for love, each with their own subtle, but distinct meaning,” you blew out a breath as you tried to figure out what to say. Echo was hanging on to your every word.

“There’s… there isn’t really a direct translation, but the best I can come up with is that the love that we have, ishq, is much deeper than just romantic love. It’s deep and strong and pure and unyielding. It–it reminded me of us,” you admitted, a bit sheepish. Your fingers dance along Echo’s scomp link, nervous.

Echo took a moment to process your explanation before smiling. You felt your heart stitch itself back together again after seeing that beautiful smile. You would do anything to keep it on his lovely face.

“Ishq wala love,” he echoed, his pronunciation a bit off. You giggled in response. “Close enough,” you teased and Echo simply beamed. You leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on his soft lips, rubbing his metal arm gently.

Echo stood up then, offering a hand to you to help you up. You took it and he led you over to the bunk you shared together. You both quickly climbed in, relaxing in the warmth of the well worn blankets and the other’s presence.

Your head was near his chest and you could hear the soothing dull sound of his steady heartbeat. Your arm curled over his waist protectively and your head rested comfortably on his flesh arm. Echo shut off the light and you were ensconced in black velvety darkness.

“Goodnight, cyar’ika.”

“Sweet dreams, Echo. I’ll be here, waiting for you.”

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

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damerondala · 3 years

Text

Suture Up Your Future

i was watching reservoir dogs last night and that scene in the beginning with mr. orange is so intense i wanted to write some bad batch AnGst that mirrors it (and yes, the title is a queens of the stone age song, im really just snatching ideas from everybody huh lol). im also not too knowledgeable about trauma wounds like this and how to patch them up, but i did my best so pls be nice lmao im a sensitive bitch

Pairing: Platonic Bad Batch x Gender Neutral Reader / Platonic Tech x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: adult dialogue, severe wounds and blood loss, wound suturing, sad batch ™ but with a happy ending! yay!

Word Count: approx. 1.4k

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

“Say it for me, Tech.” You were met with an agonistic cry instead of the words you needed the trooper to say. Not only to reassure himself, but you as well. “Say it,” you nearly screamed while he lay there bleeding out, “You’re going to be okay, fucking say it. You’re going to be okay.”

“I,” a sharp intake of breath made his chest heave and a new wave of fresh blood come out of his gaping wound, covering your hands in the warm substance, “‘m guh be oh-okay.”

“There we go, come on Tech, come on buddy breathe for me.”

Nothing was out of the ordinary when you woke up that day. Hunter asked if you wanted to stay on the Marauder while he, Tech, and Crosshair went on a supply run. Hunter sang his reassurances to you, fully knowing you had a point when you reminded him that this planet was not the most welcoming place for outsiders. Especially the army of the Republic. But Hunter made sure they had civilian clothing to disguise themselves; this was the closest planet you all could get to at the moment, with the little fuel you had, after all. “In and out, just like that,” the sergeant cooed with a snap of his fingers to enunciate the last word of his promise.

Echo, Wrecker, and yourself gave your best wishes to the group, then retreated back to the hull of the beloved ship. Echo toying with a new prosthetic he and Tech had been working on, Wrecker subjecting poor Gonky to yet another workout, and you occupied yourself with some tidying up. Maker knows that five busy soldiers plus one even busier medic, patching up said soldiers on a regular basis, equaled a filthy ship that was in dire need of some elbow grease.

What none of you had expected however, was the very early return of the three bad batchers, one of them being supported by the other two. Barely able to walk and blood leaking out of his abdomen.

Panic set in your gut upon the sight. Wrecker and Echo already in front of you, screaming their concerns and questions while you scrambled back into the ship to clear the table that was littered with empty dishes and Tech’s projects, then sprinting to your medkit to snag the supplies you’d need to treat a wound such as this. Returning to the table just as Wrecker set his vod down on the flat surface that, might you add, was much too small for his six-four frame and much too dirty for the situation at hand, but would have to do. Considering the severity of the scene before you. Tech had an enormous gash — you guessed from some sort of large knife — that ran from the bottom of his left ribs all the way to the front of his abdomen, ending just above his bellybutton.

“Fucking bounty hunters,” Crosshair growled from behind you but you couldn’t afford to pay him any mind, Tech was damn near about to bleed to death if you didn’t act quick. You could curse the people who did this to your friend later. “Echo, he’s going to need more blood. Get Wrecker hooked up to the blood draw.” You ordered while applying pressure to the gash, Tech’s blood slowing at the contact, but still steadily seeping through your fingers. Normally Wrecker would pout about being hooked up to a machine but the sight of his friend dancing with death made him move quicker than any of you had ever seen, ripping his shirt sleeve up so Echo could begin drawing blood.

The scene felt like a dream. Well, more like a nightmare, one that never stopped no matter how badly you wished you could just wake up and it would all be over. Instead, you were sweating through your shirt, a few tears stained your cheeks, and you were fucking covered in blood; Tech’s blood, to make the matter even more chilling. Everything happened so fast, you desperately wished you had gone on the run instead of Tech. Maybe that way you could all be sitting around this table, playing cards and giggling at Echo and Wrecker’s bickering over who’s cheating by now.

“What do you need me to do?” Hunter stepped to your side, prepared to do anything in order to save the youngest of the squad. “Get the gauze and alcohol out of my pack.” You threw your head in the direction of the stocked medpack sitting on the table near Tech’s legs. Hunter opened the bottle of antiseptic and handed it to you, Crosshair on the other side of the table taking the gauze from Hunter’s hand. Ready to stuff the wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding more until you could properly suture him up. Dumping the alcohol inside the gash caused Tech to gasp, eyebrows furrowing and body going taut at the pain you inflicted on him. You pleaded with him to relax and help you in reassuring himself that he would be fine. Both you and Hunter continuing the verbal comfort while Crosshair unraveled the pristine white gauze and began shoving it into Tech’s side, dying it crimson almost immediately. The pressure from both yours and Crosshair’s hands did a good job at stopping the blood loss, just enough so you could begin really cleaning him up and sewing his abdomen back together. Hunter helped with handing you the needle and thread and you began puncturing Tech’s skin and pulling the thread through the tissue.

Cries and mumbles of curses came from Tech’s lips, his face paler than any of you had ever seen before. “Shhh…eh..it,” Tech groaned as you diligently worked at his stomach. You silently thanked whatever celestial power that was out there for slowing down the blood flow to a much more manageable pace. Crosshair’s efforts clearly paid off, you mentally noted, as you watched his steady marksman hands slowly remove the gauze while you advanced with your stitching.

“Blood transfusion is ready,” Echo suddenly appeared, ready to start replenishing the blood Tech had lost. “Just in time,” you managed a half-smile, not entirely sure of where it came from. But looking back, you think it was out of hope.

Tech’s glazed eyes silently caught the way your mouth curled up and he was infinitely grateful for it. To him — and the other members of the squad — you were a beacon of light in the cruel and unforgiving war you all were in the midst of. It was easy to let the darkness and the violence consume them, but the second you joined their squad as their senior medic, there was that sudden sense of hope; you were something that made all of it even more worth it.

The entire procedure of fixing up your friend honestly was a blur for the most part. One second they were dragging Tech’s limp and bloody body up the ramp, the next you all found yourselves slumped into chairs, over crates, hell, you were nearly passed out from exhaustion on the floor next to the table Tech was splayed out on. His wound clean and stitched to near perfection, and Wrecker’s blood slowly being pumped back into his veins, bringing that beautiful, healthy tan back to his features.

Being so tired led you to neglect the dried blood all over your arms and shirt. In your haze, you remember Wrecker gently grasping your biceps and heaving you off the grimy ground, urging you to wash up and change. When you began to protest, the gentle giant rubbed up and down your arms in an effort to persuade you, “He’ll be fine, kid. You stitched him up real good. Plus, you know how queasy he gets with blood. He’d want you to get cleaned up.” Just as the final syllable left his mouth, you felt the soft cotton of your extra shirt being brushed against your forearm, Crosshair’s arm extended to you from his place on a ration crate with a nod in your direction. A silent way of showing you he agreed with his older brother — we got him, don’t worry.

Your squad member’s wisdom proved to be true. Stepping out of the fresher in a new shirt sans sweat stains and blood, and your skin nice and clean, you were greeted with the sight of everybody crowding around their youngest vod still laying on the table. Weaseling your way in between Hunter and Echo, you found Tech awake. Albeit less sharp than he usually is, but still awake. Breathing. Fucking alive. The weight of dread that had been crushing your chest was suddenly gone, letting your lungs fully expand for the first time in hours. A soft hand found Tech’s cheek, the tips of your fingers accidentally bumping the edge of his goggles and another smile gracing your face, this one out of relief.

“Told you you’d be okay.”

#i know reservoir dogs is like...the ultimate white boy douchebag movie but i still like it #im taking it back from those bitches lol #and this is my first time writing something platonic AND writing angst I hope it's decent lol im more of a fluff and spicy stories kinda gal #my writing #tech fic #bad batch fic #the bad batch tech x reader #the bad batch platonic fic #the bad batch crosshair x reader #the bad batch hunter x reader #the bad batch echo x reader #the bad batch wrecker x reader #the bad batch fanfiction

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jessiebanethedragon · 3 years

Note

so i randomly thought about a fic with crosshair with his iconic line "you miss me? how touching" and im kinda shocked about how it doesnt exist! so i went to you to request this 👉👈 bcs you're one of my fav fic writers and i'd like to see it from you, no pressure though! bcs i know you dont exactly have all your hours to provide us with fan content :] <3

Hello! thank you so much for this request i’ve been in love with the idea for so long sorry it took me ages to get it written! anyways here it is!

love ya oxoxox Jessie

Miss you (Crosshair x separatist!Reader)

You met Crosshair in a hurricane of cruses, punches and a bloody nose on his part. And from the glare he sent you way after Hunter had wrestled you into binders, you knew the mutual feeling of hatred was obvious. And of course, when the republic so graciously offered to help you make amends, in return for separatist intel and a forgoing of your prison sentence they put you back into the clutches of Clone Force 99.

Crosshair could not stand you. With enough cheek and sass to rival his own, and looks that were infuriatingly good, the resident sniper had it out for you.

But to be fair, you hated him as well. You hated how tall he was, how his deceivingly slim frame gave way to sturdy muscle that your hands had been over top of on a singular occasion that you couldn't get out of your head.

“Tell me the layout again.” Sergeant Hunter demanded, standing over a disastrously incorrect map of a separatist base.

“You’d be better off without a map at all!” Exclaimed throwing your hands up in defeat, “the weapons room is here, on the west side of the basement. Not on the east side of the top floor.” You went through the entire map again and again, in order for Hunter to relay it to Tech when him and Crosshair got back from intel.

“I still don't understand why we have to be out in the middle of nowhere.” Tech’s voice crackled through the comms.

“Because She can’t be trusted.” Crosshair hissed.

“She has been completely honest with us thus far.” Tech retorted,

“She has a name” You called into your vambrace,

“Fine, The separatist cannot be trusted.” Oh you could hear the smirk in his voice now. And the damn sniper wore it so well…

“Ex-separatist.” Wrecker kindly pointed out in your defence.

“Enough. All of you, Tech what's your status?” Hunter cut in, giving up on the holo-map completely.

“Approaching the south entrance stand by.” You furred your brows, south, why did they go to the south. You distinctly remember telling them to go North… oh, oh shit.

“Tech! Abort mission!” You said into your comm, grabbing your blaster and pack off of the walls of the ship. “Tech! Do not approach the south entrance. I repeat do not engage at the south entrance!” Why, Why did they never listen! You looked at Hunter and Wrecker who seemed unbothered.

“Where do you think you’re going, Spitfire?” Wrecker asked teasingly, “South entrance is unguarded.”

“According to your map, but according to me the south entrance is next to…” “The Barracks.” Hunter finished for you, before running into the cockpit shouting into his comms. You and Wrecker shared a look of panic.��

“Are you coming with me or not?” You asked him, and his eyes darted to the cockpit where Hunter was currently firing up the engines and the ramp that was beginning to close.

“I’ll meet you there Spitfire.” He promised, brothers come first, you could understand that. And even though you knew the Havoc Marauder could get there faster, something other than your brain told you that you had to go on foot. And so you threw yourself out of the rising ship, and onto the forest floor of a separatist planet.

And that, well that brings us to the present situation, finding yourself once again in a pair of binders and your comrades nowhere to be found. In hindsight, trampoline through the undergrowth like a bantha on spice wasn't the best idea. But maybe you cared more for Clone Force 99 than you’d like to admit.

“Where are they?” Whorm Loathsom sneered, far too close for comfort.

“The term ‘they’ is pretty ambiguous, could you perhaps speci-fy” your sentence was cut off as his clawed hand met your throat, your own hands fumbling at his face as you struggle for air.

“I’ll ask you again, traitor. Where are the clones you’ve been travelling with?” Loathsom didn’t let up on his grasp, and the corners of your vision were beginning to blur.

“At... your... mother’s.” You choked out, still trying to wriggle out of his grasp. His claws were beginning to cut into your skin, and you knew blacking out was imminent.

“I don’t think you have the time for sarcasm.” He hissed, increasing the pressure causing you to flounder in his grasp. “Now, i’m giving you a chance for redemption here. Tell. me. Where. They. Are!” Maker, you realized, he’s going to do it, he’s actually going to kill you. And just as yours eyes fluttered closed and you began to black out, you hit the floor with a resounding thunk. Only to be pulled onto your feet again and into something familiarly solid.

“Miss me?” Crosshairs voice was heaven layered honey over the sounds of wheezing and laboured breaths.

“Crosshair?” You gasped up at him, his arms around your frame moving to pick you up.

“How touching, you almost look pleased to see me.” You blinked repeatedly at his smirk, before wincing as he began to move.

“Where?” He asked, setting you down again. You tried to speak again but your lungs were still working double time. “What did they do to you?” He whispered, “I should've been faster.”

“Crosshair,” you tried again, essentially mewling into his chest, “I can’t…. Can’t” you were panicked, scared, trying to chase a breath you just couldn't catch.

“I’m going to kill them. I’m going to kill them all.” He snarled, standing up again with you safely in his arms. Maybe Clone Force 99 cared for you more than you thought.

Bed rest sucks, you decide about one day into Techs mandated recovery schedule. What sucks more is him and Hunter marching you back to you bunk every time you try to get up. So, naturally, you resort to sneaking around during the night when the self-proclaimed medics of the Bad Batch are asleep.

You clutch a cup of some kind of herbal drink, Wrecker and Tech keep them by the box load so you figured they must be at least decent. But right now you’re wondering if you missed something because the stupid wet herb-flower bag thing keeps flopping around in the cup every time you try to take a sip. And the thing is way too hot, so you resort to blowing the steam away as it rises.

“Shouldn't you be in bed?” Crosshairs voice comes from the doorway into the hull of the Marauder.

“Miss me?” You ask, mimicking him from before, enjoying the irony.

“Nope.” He says, popping the ‘p’. You scoff at your mug of hot herbal whatnot. “Wrecker was beside himself though.”

“Was he?” You tease your sniper, and a part of you wonders when he went from being ‘the’ sniper to ‘your’ sniper.

“Yeah, inconsolable in fact.” Crosshair moves from the doorway over to your spot in the hull of the ship.

“Really?” you arch an eyebrow, standing in an embarrassing attempt to meet his height. But he’s closer than you calculated and in your adjustment you fumble and find yourself against the wall.

“Aw, little Spitfire’s all choked up, mind the pun.” Crosshair sneers at you, stepping firmly into your personal space.

“I do in fact.” You retort, “mind the pun, i also mind you in my personal bubble.” You go to plant a hand on his chest to push him away, but he’s so solid. Maker, why is he so warm and firm under your hands. Why, oh why, does he have to feel so perfect to your palms. And in the three times you’ve now touched him, Crosshair’s starting to feel familiar.

“You gonna push me or just cop a feel?” He raises an eyebrow, but you miss it under the blush on your cheeks and your gaze hits the floor. His hand comes to your chin, index finger underneath while the thumb caresses your cheek.

“I didn't get to thank you… for coming back for me.” You’re not sure where this is coming from, but it happens anyways.

“You’ve got a weird way of apologizing Spitfire,” He murmurs looking back to your hands in his chest, watching your eyes react as he moves his other hand to your hip. He smirks oh so proudly when you sigh and relax into his hands, and move yours to hold his face and lightly scratch at the short hair on his neck.

“Crosshair…” You exhale looking at him, and the energy between the two of you does the rest of the talking as he leans down to connect his lips to yours.

Kissing Crosshair seems to contradict everything else about him. It’s slow and soft, he takes his time memorizing the feeling and shape of your lips of his. And with all the time he’s spent pushing you away, now he’s pulling you impossibly close. Your kiss is akin to the second half of your nickname. Crosshair is on fire, but he can't bring himself to care. For you, he tastes of a forest after rainfall, crisp with mist and peaceful. You don't want it to ever end, but the burning in your abused lungs forces you to pull away. Immediately he pulls your foreheads together, a Keldabe kiss, because it’s the best he can get as you both heave for air.

“I did miss you. And I was worried.” He tells you, lips brushing against your own as he speaks.

“I know,” You say, pressing a second kiss to his lips where you can both feel the other smile.

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the-silentium · 3 years

Text

A story of shirts

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - The survivor - Part 4 - Epilogue

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader, Hunter x Reader, Crosshair x Reader

Words: 2774 words

Warnings: TESTOSTERONE.

A/N: Reader’s native language is *roll drum* French! Really original, I know! Translations will be at the end of the chapter ~

Taglist: @haloangel391

"You gonna eat that?" Wrecker asked from your right, his chubby pointer finger signaling to your half-eaten piece of bread.

"Yeah." You confirmed, taking more of the ration pack, reaching for the bread to illustrate.

"Too bad." He stole the piece before you got a hold of it, hurrying to stuff it in his mouth as soon as you reached forward to take it back.

"Wreck! It was mine!" You whined, hitting his shoulder multiple times in retaliation.

"Cut it out." Hunter called from his spot on the other side of the fire, shooting the both of you an unimpressed glance over his water canteen.

"But he-!" You cut yourself, not wanting to pout like a baby, instead taking a deep breath in and planning your revenge like a petulant child.

You've been with the Batchers for a good year, flying them around different systems, perfecting your flying skills as well as developing some basic medical ones to help them when needed.

So far, no one from the GAR noticed that you were a fraud among the army, letting you enough time to read about the GAR and become more familiar with the whole system and chain of command. You had now all the knowledge necessary to keep the lie going without a hitch. Hell, even Cody never connected the dots.

Over time the relationships between you and each of the boys improved to the point where Wrecker would call you his vod'ika and you'd call him your frangin.

Tech exploited his extended knowledge to gain a serious advantage over his brothers once a month. He would generously share his secret stash of candies with you whenever the first day of your period started (you were sure he did that to stay in your good favors and keep your irritation away from himself - which was working, fortunately for him).

Crosshair would share some of his precious secrets blackmails so you could use them when the others were being annoying shits and kindly taught you how to properly shoot with blasters so you could defend yourself better.

Hunter used you as his personal enhanced senses painkiller, meaning that he'd requisition you for an hour when his head felt like it was on the verge of exploding from overstimulation, sit on the floor facing you, lean his head on your chest and listen to you singing a soft lullaby in your native tongue.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed Wrecker getting up from his seat on the ground beside you to get to the ship, passing right behind you to get to his destination. Swiftly, you straightened your hand, turned around and pushed the back of his knee forward to bend it with ease.

Smirking, you admired your handy work when Wrecker yelped in surprise that his knee just gave up underneath him and crashed to the ground.

You laughed wholeheartedly, covering Crosshair's snickers who watched you the whole time because he knew you'd serve his brother a good payback for taking your precious food.

"You want to fight vod'ika?" Wrecker asked jokingly from his kneeled position a few feet away.

"Bring it on frangin!" You replied, pushing your dry rations down your throat with a big gulp of water. That was something else that took some time to get used to. Tasteless water meant good water. Don't spit the good water.

"Here we go again." Sighed Tech, rolling his eyes at banter.

"Don't be a grinch, Tech. That's Crosshair's role." You flicked his shoulder and ignored Cross glare to get up and meet the big man who instantly went to poke your side.

He'd learned his lesson a while ago when he punched your shoulder playfully and let you a gigantic bruise on your skin that lasted for weeks. Hunter genuinely thought that he'd hit you hard (he did, but Wrecker was excited, so you weren't mad) leading to the 'no hitting your teammates' rule. Wrecker felt bad for a while but soon you got him to cheer up and instead of fake fights, you'd do poking fights.

Jumping to the side, you moved your foot behind his knee to repeat your previous trick, effectively making him fall on one knee and pushed him on his back with all your strength.

As soon as he was on his back you poked his stomach, not too hard to make him sick, he just ate after all, but enough to mark your point.

"That's for my bread!" You laughed, dodging his hands trying to grasp yours to stop you from assaulting his abdomen.

He finally got a grab of your wrists, joined them in one of his hands and attacked your sides with his free hand, poking to the right places to have you yelp and trash around.

"Stop! Stop!" You shrieked, pulling on your arms to free them.

"As you wish." He grinned, opening his hand when you pulled with all your might, your elbows hitting your own abdomen and emptying your lungs from their precious air.

You groaned for a few seconds, recovering from the blow sprawled over Wrecker's chest unceremoniously. His laugh resonated through your body, the vibrations shaking your bones and making your teeth clash together.

"Still wanna fight?" He teased, head lifted from the ground to meet your unimpressed gaze.

"Enough for tonight." Hunter cut you off as you opened your mouth to sass him back.

Closing your mouth without another word, you rolled your eyes and got to your feet, following Wrecker inside the ship to retrieve an extra layer to keep you comfortable under the stars.

You walked past Wrecker who stopped at the fresher, to enter the barracks to rummage under your pillow for Hunter's top blacks he threw at you the night prior.

He noticed that you often stole his blacks whenever you felt cold at night in the ship, sliding under the fabric only when you thought they were asleep. You always made sure to replace it before he woke up, always neatly folded like it never left. But he knew. Your scent lingered on the fabric, a fact you forgot to think about, not that he minded. After a couple of times, he started to simply throw the blacks at your face before laying down on his bed. He knew you never got used to the cold of space, your skin remembering the constant warmth of the jungle, letting you vulnerable to any change of temperature.

You slipped the blacks over your head, the fabric covering your three-quarter sleeve shirt without a hitch and offering you the extra warmth needed for you to be able to find sleep instead of chattering teeth for the whole night.

Now ready to go out and bury yourself under your blanket near the fire, you walked out with a pep in your step, eager to lay down and relax for the remaining hours before a new assignment arrived and forced you all away on some dangerous mission.

"Acceptin' the markin'?" Wrecker appeared from the fresher, wiping his hands on his pants.

"What?" You stopped, confused at his question. Did you have ink on your face or something?

"He means this." Crosshair answered for his brother, walking further into the ship to pinch the shoulder of the blacks on his way to his bunk where he retrieved an extra blanket for himself.

"What about it?"

"You're only wearin' Hunter's." He remarked, toothpick dancing between his lips.

"Wrecker's are way too big and you'd strangle me with the sleeves if I took yours." You pointed out, a hand moving to your hip. What was his point?

"Why not Tech's?" He approached closer, clearly trying to intimidate you. It may have worked in the beginning but this era was long gone.

"Last time I did he started hiding them so I wouldn't do it again. What is this about?" The two of them shared a look and you knew they had information you didn't, and the mere idea of it made your heart speed up a bit.

"It wasn't Tech who hid them." Crosshair faced you again, his arms crossing at his chest, the blanket folded over one of his arms. "It was Hunter."

It took you seconds to connect the dot and make sense of everything. Hunter started throwing you his blacks the night after you borrowed Tech's and after that, you couldn't find his anywhere again. You'd accepted the gesture and never questioned it afterward, simply thinking that he cared about your sleeping habits or something.

He did care. But for a totally different reason.

"He's jealous." You whispered, eyes widening to Crosshair's delight.

At the back of your mind, a part of you was melting, the sergeant's possessiveness flattering you to no end, although another part of you found it was stupid to be jealous of his brother. You noted to talk to him about that later, but you were sure that the subject would arise rather sooner than later if the mischievous glint in the sniper's eyes was anything to go by.

"He is. So you'll wear this instead." He took a top of his blacks from within the blanket and shoved it onto your chest until you picked it up.

"Your blacks? Wait. Are you angry at him or somethin'?" You eyed the fabric in your hands, rolling the hem between your fingers. This wasn't a good idea. There were ulterior motives to his actions. Always.

"Just wanna see him boilin'." He replied, rolling his head on the side a bit.

"You wanna call him on his bullshit." You pointed out, one eyebrow slowly lifting in the air, unimpressed.

He didn't respond but his smirk told you enough, and the longer he held your gaze, the wider the grin creeping its way onto your lips became. Yes, you had feelings for the dark-haired clone, but you were fundamentally a prankster. Always in for a good laugh. Plus, what problems can a shirt do? It's a shirt!

You removed Hunter's blacks, keeping a hold of your undershirt so you wouldn't show too much to your brothers and quickly slipped into the new shirt. Sadly, the sleeves were a bit tight so you had to adjust your undershirt sleeves but you manage to replace them easily.

You rolled Hunter's black into a ball and throw it onto your bed.

"Don't be mean." You threatened Crosshair with a finger under his chin.

"And you don't drool all over it." He took his toothpick from his lips to poke your fingers with it. You hissed and he threw it away.

You walked out with Cross at your side, Wrecker choosing to walk before you so you would all be close enough to see the shift in Hunter's expression. If the boys were right, that is.

Unfortunately, Hunter seemed too engrossed in his conversation with Tech to notice your shirt so as soon as you all sat onto your respective blankets, yours placed between Wrecker's and Tech's, you leaned slightly forward toward Crosshair.

"Thanks for the shirt Cross!" You smiled at him.

In the corner of your eyes, you noticed Hunter straighten, head moving to you despite Tech still addressing him. Cross grunted in acknowledgment, already watching Hunter and was clearly enjoying what he saw.

Your eyes moved to the sergeant's, who was now deeply frowning, too concentrated on analyzing your shirt that he didn't notice the four pairs of eyes scrutinizing his face, three playful, one confused.

"What's wrong?" Tech asked, head-turning to you to see what disturbed him that much. As soon as his eyes fell on you he knew. And you felt stupid for being the last one to notice that this was happening. "Ah." That you've been stupid enough to let yourself fall into a territorial fight.

"Not to your liking, Sarge?" Crosshair sassed, enjoying the tightness in his brother's jaw.

You started to feal really bad. And confused. Was Crosshair really interested in you too? You knew Hunter cared about you, the kisses, the hugs, the moments of vulnerability shared with one another, they all told you that you meant something more. But Crosshair’s behavior really started to contradict everything you thought you knew about him.

"What's that?" He turned to confront his brother, catching on to the fact that he'd been played as soon as he registered the smugness coating Crosshair's face.

"Cut the crap. 's just a shirt." He rolled his eyes at Hunter's barely concealed annoyance. But it wasn't just a shirt. Not to them.

It started to dawn on you that this was a terrible idea and that you've been played and that- oh shit Hunter's fingers closed to form a fist entangled in his blanket.

"Stop right there." You hurried to cut Hunter's words that you just knew would start a bickering war. You had to stop it before it could deteriorate to something bad because you didn't trust Crosshair to not put oil on the fire and hit every single one of his brother's nerves. To top it all, he was the one right next to Hunter. This was getting dangerous.

" 'm not wearin' anyone's shirt."

You removed the blacks, ignoring the concert of grumbles telling you not to, rolled it in a ball, switched the ball with Tech's and used it as your personal pillow. You laid down on your back and pulled the blanket tightly around yourself, eying the stars above like you used to on Fors.

You seemed to have done the right thing, because the rest followed your example, Tech's head burying itself in his new pillow inches from yours. A yelp from Crosshair soon followed by a smack in retaliation made you sigh, effectively cutting short their childish behaviors.

It took a couple of minutes until the sergeant heard what he was waiting for, a soft clattering muffled by the blanket covering your mouth, the sound of your hands moving up and down your arms in hope of creating warmth and your irregular breathing that you controlled enough to keep it down but not enough to keep it steady.

The boys had fallen asleep, Wrecker's snores echoing between the trees around, Crosshair's and Tech's soft regular breathings were easy to distinguish.

"Y/N." He called softly to not wake his brothers, his eyes already on your subtly shaking form. "I know you're cold."

You turned your head in his direction, frowning.

"So? I won't get the shirt back on." You whispered, gaze moving to Tech to make sure he was still sleeping.

"Good. C'mere." He lifted the corner of his blanket, to which you raised an eyebrow.

"Sharing your blanket to prove yourself better, now?"

"Just…" He pointed to the spot next to him with his head. "C'mere."

You huffed while sitting up to look around, the three remaining clones were still out, their peaceful face illuminated by the dying fire in the center of your circle. Carefully, you got up with the fabric tightly wrapped around your shoulders, stepping over Tech's hand and reached the offered spot.

Immediately you felt the warmth radiating off him and like a moth to a flame, you wrapped yourself around him without shame because you needed this. And because it was so unfair that he could regulate his temperature while you couldn't, so you decided that he had to share.

Clearly, he didn't mind, his arms sneaking around your waist to keep you close and offer you more of his body heat, his head leaning down a bit to breathe in your bewitching smell and place a kiss onto your hair just as you snuggled closer and leaned your head onto his chest, one of your legs sneaking between his to get more comfortable.

"Better?" His chest rose and downed slowly, unlike the beating of his heart beneath your fingertips. This was the first time you had this much contact with each other, the feeling not lost on either of you.

"Yeah." You moved your head to place a kiss under his jaw and reposition yourself. "Didn't know he even liked me." You whispered, finger moving in circles over his heart, asking yourself how did this happen?

"He liked you after our first time on Fors. He was a goner after the second time." He explained truthfully, the memory of the second trip onto this godforsaken planet made him shiver in dread. How people could live in this hell was beyond his comprehension.

You noticed his reaction and automatically reached up to dissipate the trauma with a slow movement of your fingers over his cheeks.

"But I was there first." He smirked, arms tightening around you somewhat.

"Don't start." You smacked his chest softly to which he quietly laughed.

Frangin = Brother

Next part here: A story of having each other’s back

#bad batch x reader #crosshair x reader #hunter x reader #tech x reader #wrecker x reader #clone force 99 #star wars #clone wars #murphy day

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brandywine-tomatoes · 3 years

Text

Omega's Sixteenth

99 FOLLOWER SPECIAL!!

Masterlist

Characters: The Bad Batch + Omega, Rex, Hera

Prompt/Inspo: #2 from my list: Cross teaches an older Omega how to use a rifle.

TW: blaster shots (to the armour, everyone's fine), it's just a lot of banter and family shenanigans

Word count: 1857

QUICK NOTE: just a bunch of fluff. This'll be a two or three part deal, so Cross actually teaching Omega how to use his rifle will come.

NO BETA, WE DIE LIKE CLONES

“Hunter, where we going?” Omega shouted ahead of the running group. Her hands were tightly gripped around the gold energy bow with a purple bolt already in place.

“Keep going!” He yelled, farther back down the hallway with the rest of the Batch.

Omega didn’t think her sixtieth birthday would be spent raiding an Imperial base for information, but there she was, dodging blaster bolts from circular corridors and laying down cover fire for the Batch who were looking for a way out as they ran aimlessly around the sky compound.

The skull embroidered bandana around her forehead kept her brown hair from her face as the customized armour weighed her down. She backed against a wall, peering down a corridor and quickly sprung back from the sizzling bolts whisking by.

Omega jumped from her spot and rolled away from the laying shots, pulling back the bowstring rapidly to take down the KX-series security droid. She was still on her knees with her bow outstretched as her team rounded the corner.

She stood, rolling her shoulders and pointing to the window at the other end. “We could jump.”

“And get squished like pancakes?” Wrecker sounded uneasy through his helmet. “No thanks, I’ll take the stairs.”

“We have KXs inbound,” Crosshair interrupted.

Omega walked to Cross’s position, the sniper offering his fire puncher for her to see. The scope looked through the walls and picked up the movement of what looked like a whole platoon of droids. “Shit.”

“Language!” Hunter raised his voice.

“No, I agree. We’re in deep shit.” Cross took back his rifle.

“Omega’s right, the window is our only option if we value our lives,” Tech looked back at the group from the circuit breaker he was fiddling with on the wall.

A duo of security droids came around the corner, blasting away. The Batch dove for cover around both corners, Crosshair, Hunter, and Tech across from Omega and Wrecker.

Omega and Hunter counted down to sync their defence and Omega’s bow was shot into another corridor as soon as she tried to let lose an energy bolt. She jumped back in shock and shook out her hands.

“You okay, kid?” Wrecker shouted over the blaster fire.

“I’m fine, but I don’t have a weapon!”

“Catch,” Crosshair sounded from the commlink wedged in her armour.

Crosshair threw a spare blaster across the hall with expert precision, Omega catching it with one hand and flying out into the fire of the droids. After a couple missed shots, she sent them both to the ground in a sparking heap.

Hunter ran from his spot against the wall and checked Omega over.

“Did they hit you? Are you injured?” He asked frantically.

“What is it with you guys? I’m fine, only a shot in the armour,” she shrugged Hunter’s hands off her shoulders. A fleeting look of hurt passed over his face before relief.

“We don’t have time, they’re rounding the corner,” Crosshair’s voice flooded through the comms.

“You could do what you did on Skako,” Echo looked down the corridor to find Cross firing an offence.

“Not enough time.”

Omega started down the hall towards the window, picking up speed. “The window it is!”

“Omega wait! We have to wait for the ship!” Echo shouted.

“We’re going to be blasted to hell if we wait! Tell them to hurry up!”

She heard Echo’s frantic chatter on the comms and the group’s heavy footfalls bouncing off the round steel walls as they followed her lead.

As the security droids rounded the corner, Omega was pushed through the tinted glass by a bolt to the back, tumbling through the air before landing face-first on the wing of the Havoc Marauder. She flipped herself onto her back and groaned, watching the blaster fire shoot out the window before, one by one, the batch landed on the wing. Their pilots kept the ship steady and flew off in a hurry once everyone had a hold.

If Omega wasn’t shot twice in the armour, she would’ve laughed blissfully as they flew through the fluffy orange clouds, holding out her arms as the moisture-created little droplets running off the armour plates and slicking back her hair. Instead, she laid there on the wing, holding on for dear life and hoping the moisture wouldn’t loosen her grip.

“You okay?” Hunter yelled over the rushing wind to Omega.

“Stop it!” She growled back.

Echo put a hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Kids are like this when they’re older, it’ll pass. Don’t get hung up on it.”

Hunter only nodded, putting on his stoic face and looked ahead into the clouds.

Once they were far enough away from the Imperial compound, the Havoc touched down on a hill in the middle of a rolling prairie. Blue skies with fluffy clouds surrounded them and the plain landscape.

The Bad Batch slid off the wing, Omega refusing Hunter’s help, and waited for their pilots to extend the steps.

Hera exited the ship first, shouting that she was going to kill Omega for her ridiculous plan and started chasing the brunette. Omega took off in a sprint, yelling that it wasn’t her fault while laughing her head off. The Batch started taking bets on whether Omega would outrun Hera or not and cheered the kids on.

Rex watched the madness ensue, leaning against the door frame with a smile. A fleeting and pained memory of Anakin and Ahsoka at the start of her padawan days passed through and his smile dropped, his light mood dampened. He couldn’t let go of family so easily, but it only made it more painful to go on each day without them.

“We should probably get out of here, Sargent. Imps will be crawling all over the planet,” Rex retreated inside to the co-pilot's seat.

“Alright, pack it in guys! Onto the ship!” Echo shouted to the girls far off in the distance.

Omega sprinted up the steps, gasping for air while Hera held a smile on her face, her breathing barely obstructed. She saw the confusion and the team’s heads turning from the ship to her.

“I was track star at my school, 100 meters in 5 seconds,” she said proudly and climbed into the ship.

“Who knew?” Hunter remarked.

“You would if you paid attention to your kids,” Crosshair smirked and boarded the ship with the rest following.

“I do pay attention! You got something you want to say, Cross?”

“Of course not, Sarg.”

“Thank you for your hard work, Sargent Hunter,” the rebel cell leader’s recorded message projected on the dash. “You will be fairly compensated and given your next mission in two weeks. Enjoy this time off, there won’t be much more.”

Tech shut down her hologram and looked to Hunter in the seat behind Rex. The rest of the crew waited for their leader’s next order. They hadn’t had two weeks off... ever. The most clones got was a weekend, Omega was constantly working with Nala and then going on missions, and Hera had been training as a pilot or busy with school and family. Even their droids were never shut down for more than a day.

Wrecker scratched the back of his neck. “What are we doing, Sarg?”

Silence.

“Hunter?” Omega piped up from the shared seat with Hera.

“I’m thinking,” he waved them off.

Crosshair scoffed playfully and went further back into the ship. “That’s a first.”

“It’s already pretty tight in here,” he started. “I say we touch down on a planet, enjoy the peace for once.”

Hunter saw Hera visibly deflate and Omega put an arm around her shoulder.

“You can fly the ship, Hera, but only with one of the adults around,” Hunter added in defeat. She bounced in her seat and started talking with Omega excitedly, pressing a button on the armrest and spinning the seat around back to the stars.

“Where are you thinking?” Rex asked, silently praying for no god damn desert planets.

“I don’t know. Tech, any ideas?”

Tech pulled up his trusty datapad and started furiously tapping at the screen.

Crosshair had returned from the poor excuse of a kitchen with two soda cans and strolled smugly through the aisle to Hera and Omega. He sat on the floor, his back resting against the console, and gave the soda over to the kids. They jumped excitedly, not knowing there was any more of the fizzy drinks left, and swiped them from his hands. They filled him in quietly on what they were conversing about as Crosshair gave the rest of the crew a shit-eating smirk.

“I didn’t know we had any soda left,” Wrecker whispered to Hunter across from him.

“We don't.”

“This is why he’s the favourite, isn’t it?” Rex leaned to the side towards the two.

“He did this all the time on Kamino when we were cadets. It got the others off our backs.”

“I just hid in the ceiling panels,” Rex snickered.

“You weren’t always ‘mister beloved of the GAR’?” Echo shoved the captain's shoulder from his place against the wall.

“Hell no. Pretty sure Cody was part of the ‘fuck Rex squad’ at some point.”

“I think we all have seasonal membership cards.”

“Hey!”

“So there’s Mantessa,” Tech interrupted with the list of planets. “A thick jungle planet with a fiercely predatorial native species called the panthacs. They kill quite efficiently in their home environments; I’d quite literally commit murder to get documentation of their-”

“Tech, we have kids on board,” Hunter stopped him. “Maybe something more... vacation-y?”

Tech glared at him. “Vacation-y isn’t even a word-”

“Tech.”

“Fine fine,” he dismissed the idea, a little saddened that Hunter shot it down so eagerly.

“Mimban is largely unexplored and has a very turbulent atmosphere as well as energy storms in the stratosphere. It would be quite the learning experience for Hera to-”

“We aren’t looking for learning experiences, we’re looking for a break,” Echo said.

“You all have ridiculous standards,” he mumbled, scrolling to the bottom of his list. “Numidian Prime. The syndicates have been known to use it from time to time, but with the Empire extending it’s rein, it shouldn’t house too much trouble for us. There’s a very interesting bird species-”

“Tech.”

“I swear it’s habitable and without predatory species that would rip us to shreds,” he dismissed Hunter’s insistence. He tossed the datapad carefully on top of his satchel in the corner. “I think I heard a friend having a camp there, a Calrissian. He’ll let us stay.”

“How do you know?” Rex asked.

“He’s never there.”

Hunter clapped his hands, getting everyone's attention. “It looks like we’re vacationing on Numidian Prime.”

Hera, Omega, and Rex went to work on plotting their course and getting them to lightspeed while the Batch strapped in for the ride.

“After you,” Rex gestured to the console.

“Why thank you, Captain,” Hera smiled and pulled the hyperspace levers back. The ship stopped for a second and shot forward into the stars, a tunnel of churning light making way for the Havoc.

Omega sighed blissfully, sitting back against the seat. “This never gets old.”

I haven't posted any fics in 11 days, I really just needed to get something out for y'all.

ALSO

I reached 99 followers yesterday!! Well, it's 101 now, but thank you all for giving me a chance at sharing my love for Star Wars. It's you that makes this possible! I know I have a lot of improving to do when it comes to writing, but I'm so incredibly happy that you're giving me a chance and following along on my journey!!

Part 2 will be up soon (I hope), stick around for that! I post basically every day and I'm constantly online!

More fics of mine!

A War Without a Winning Side (Ahsoka, Rex, Maul series)

One of the Bad Ones (female!oc and Crosshair [platonic])

Only the Beginning (Cap. Howzer Part 1 (part 2 linked))

Hope was a Dangerous Game (male!oc and Crosshair [romantic])

Lightsaber Trials (fluff)

And here's my masterlist for more!

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superhusbands4ever · 3 years

Text

The Chain - Chapter 3/15

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Full Work | AO3 Link

Fandom: The Bad Batch (Star Wars)

Characters: Crosshair, Hunter, Howzer, Rex, Wrecker, Tech, Echo, Omega, Various Clones

Relationships: Crosshair & Howzer, Crosshair & Rex, Crosshair & The Bad Batch, Crosshair & Omega, Hunter & Rex, Hunter & Omega

Additional Tags: Redemption, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Found Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: One year after the events of The Bad Batch, Crosshair struggles to reconcile his choice with the harsh truth of the world around him. He finds enlightenment in the most unlikely of places and realizes he may have made the wrong decision. But is it too late to do something about it?

Two years after the events of The Bad Batch, Rex reluctantly agrees to allow Hunter and his squad to help him rescue a man who's been captured by the Empire, an Imperial double agent who's cover has been blown. What Hunter thought to be a simple extraction ends up having far greater consequences for their squad than he could have ever anticipated.

Chapter Warnings: violence/torture, electrocution, anti-clone prejudice, the Empire being the Empire

Most people are drowning in their delusional ignorance without knowing that their suffering was created by themselves.

Jakusho Kwong Roshi

The disk exploded in the air as the blaster bolt hit it, shattering into tiny pieces that clattered onto the floor to join the fragmented remains of the other disks before it.

Crosshair adjusted his grip on his rifle and signaled to the droid at the end of the range to volley another round of disks. The kickback on his rifle against his shoulder was comforting and familiar, the same as it had been since he was old enough to hold the firepuncher up in his arms for the first time.

Shooting the disks was ridiculously easy, no matter how quickly the training droid launched them, but Crosshair wasn’t looking for a challenge. He came to the range to keep his mind busy, a distraction, a mindless task that would give him time to think away from everyone around him.

It had been three months since the destruction of Tipoca City, and three months since Crosshair had made the choice to leave his brothers and return to the Empire.

Those three months had been… interesting, to say the least.

It took the Imperial scouts two days to find Crosshair on that platform. Of course those two days were the two days Kamino decided not to be the stormy landscape it was infamous for. By the time the scouts picked him up he was half delirious from heat exhaustion, dehydration, and his head was covered in burns from the blistering sun.

He woke up again a few days later as they pulled him out of a bacta tank. He’d barely had time to process what was happening before he was being dragged to an interrogation room by a couple of commandos to be questioned by Rampart.

That hadn’t been pleasant.

It was another month before he was sent on missions on his own, before that ordered only to follow Rampart around like he was his personal bodyguard. He knew it was so Rampart could keep an eye on his every move, so he could make sure Crosshair could still be trusted.

Fair, he supposed. Even he could admit his story was shaky at best.

He’d spun some story or another about the girl setting off the training droids in the training room in Tipoca City, his squad being overrun by the droids before the bombardment started. When explaining how he’d escaped alive, Crosshair figured the best lies were the ones that were buried at least partially in the truth.

He told Rampart that he’d been knocked out by his former squad members in the chaos. That they picked him up and dragged him out of the city as they tried to escape. He wasn’t sure why. He didn't need to lie about that.

He told Rampart about the girl rescuing him, about his squad’s escape through the tunnels to Nala Se’s old lab. He told him about their plan to use the pods to escape to the surface, using that AZI unit as their guide.

And then. And then.

“You were working with them?”

“No,” Crosshair said, staring up at Rampart from the ground. “I was using them. Pretending to work with them until we reached the surface platform.”

“Yes,” Rampart said slowly, “the platform with no ship. How did they get onto Kamino, then?”

“They had help. Communications were down underwater so they needed to reach the surface to call their extraction. They’d just broken CC-5576 out of Daro base, I assume they were working with him.”

Rampart hummed, blank face giving nothing away.

“When we removed your inhibitor chip, Commander, you assured me that your loyalty to the Empire would not be in question. Was that a lie?”

Crosshair shifted in the trooper’s grip in an attempt to get the pressure off of his undoubtedly broken ribs.

“No, sir,” he gasped, biting back a grunt when the commando tightened his grip, forcing Crosshair to arch his back.

Something snapped. Definitely broken then.

“Good,” Rampart said softly. He gestured to the commando and Crosshair was dropped unceremoniously to the ground. He groaned as the muscles in his shoulders finally relaxed. “I would hate to have to replace such a… valuable asset as yourself.”

“They won’t be a problem anymore.”

“So you’ve said. It is unfortunate they won’t be an asset in the pocket of the Empire, but if they were going to be a thorn in our side then I suppose it’s for the best that they’re dead. And you are… sure they are dead, aren’t you?”

Crosshair turned to spit a mouthful of blood at the ground before turning to look at the vice-admiral. He couldn’t quite bring himself to look the man in the eye, instead looking at a spot just below on his cheekbone.

“Their pods were crushed when the lab flooded,” Crosshair said, swallowing hard. “I saw it. To the best of my knowledge, no one could have survived that.”

Rampart stared dispassionately down at Crosshair for a long moment.

“I certainly hope so, Commander. For your sake.”

There was a small part of Crosshair that wondered why he bothered lying, why he was still protecting those traitors. Maybe part of it was self preservation - if he told Rampart that he let the Bad Batch survive and escape, it would undoubtedly end badly for him. The Vice-Admiral had already made that abundantly clear.

He knew it was deeper than that, though, loath as he was to admit it.

He could have done it. He could have killed them. They’d refused to join him, refused to join the Empire, so it was the logical next step in his orders. It would have been so easy, too, distracted as they were by the kid drowning beneath the water. Hunter had brought his rifle and his pack with him into the tube. No one was paying attention to him. If he’d moved quickly enough, he could have grabbed the rifle, shot Hunter and the others, and left the kid to drown. All that would have been left to do was swim to the platform, steal the ship, and fly back to the Daro base to contact Rampart.

He’d been so close. He’d lifted the rifle and had it pointed between Hunter’s eyes before he’d even realized what he was doing.

But something had stayed his hand.

He’d stared down into Hunter’s tired eyes, finger on the trigger and ready to pull, but no matter how much he tried he couldn’t do it. Instead, he did something he’d never done before.

He froze.

Maybe it was a misplaced sense of loyalty. An old holdout feeling, a remnant from the days they were a team, a family. When Crosshair would have been the first to shoot anyone pointing a blaster in Hunter’s face the way he’d been. Maybe it was him returning the favor, remembering that Hunter had saved him, had still grabbed his body and taken him to safety despite everything the two of them had done to each other that day. Maybe it was him remembering the fervor with which Omega had ordered AZI to help rescue him from under the debris so he wouldn’t drown in the cold ocean water.

Maybe it was the memory of Hunter’s voice breaking with desperation when he asked Crosshair how long he’d been without the inhibitor chip. When he’d realized that all of Crosshair’s decisions that led them to that point were entirely his own.

This is who I am.

Or maybe it was the way those familiar brown eyes, eyes that had once looked at him with love and warmth, had looked at him not with surprise or anger, but with resignation . Hunter hadn’t looked at him and felt betrayed or shocked - instead he’d looked at Crosshair with empty acceptance, like he knew this was what Crosshair was planning to do all along and knew he couldn’t fight it. It was like Hunter had finally given up - given up on him .

I wanted to believe it was the inhibitor chip that made you like this, but I was wrong.

Maybe it was the way those same brown eyes had looked at him with that same tired acceptance in Nala Se’s lab, this time on a smaller feminine frame beneath pale, blonde hair.

Before he could even really process what he was doing he’d pulled the rifle away from Hunter and pointed it into the murky waters below. Hunter couldn’t see into the water, but Crosshair could - he could see through the grime and the darkness and the debris to the slowly sinking blur of the girl clinging to the droid. Looking through the scope he realized he was likely the only one of the group who had the ability to save her and survive while doing it. He’d fired the grapple without second thought.

It was after, when he looked back at the others and saw Tech, Echo, and Wrecker shamelessly pointing their own blasters at him, that he realized his plan was never going to work anyway. There was no way his old squad was going to follow him, to come back and join him in the Empire. Whatever bond had existed between them all those years together had broken and he wasn’t sure there was a way for them to get it back. His brothers didn’t trust him anymore and they likely never would.

Once the girl was safely pulled into the pod it was with that knowledge that he tossed his firepuncher back to Wrecker. He sat down in the pod and avoided eye contact with Hunter, not wanting to see the cold blankness in his eyes again. He’d desperately tried to ignore the gnawing in his chest, the emptiness he felt at the thought of his brothers leaving without him again like he knew they were going to.

He couldn’t even watch as Marauder flew away from him for a fourth time, fearful that they’d see the extra shine lingering on his eyes in Kamino’s rare sunlight.

He still tried to ignore the gnawing in his chest that he felt even now, three months later. His temple throbbed and he shook his head to try and clear it.

His thoughts were interrupted by a chime at the door, a warning to whoever was down range that someone was about to enter. The door slid open with a quiet whoosh and ES-02 walked in.

“Commander,” she said with a nod, standing at attention just inside the doorway.

“What do you want?” He said, shooting down the range again when the droid threw the next disk. The shot hit just as the disk was reaching the peak of it’s arch through the air.

“Admiral Rampart has requested you meet him in interrogation room 4-8C,” she said, and he lowered his rifle with a sigh. “He has asked that I escort you.”

“I don’t need a minder,” he said with a roll of his eyes. Still, he stepped back from the range and disengaged his rifle, pulling the nozzle attachment off and slipping it into his pack.

“Vice Admiral’s orders, sir,” she said with a shrug.

Crosshair nodded, slipping his pack onto his back before reaching down beside him to pick up his helmet. He slipped it on, sliding his firepuncher over his shoulder until he heard and felt the metallic clink of it as the magnetic hold in his pack activated.

“Let’s go, then,” he said, gesturing toward the open door behind her.

ES-02 nodded and turned, gesturing for Crosshair to step out in front of her.

They set off down the hallway, ES-02 following a half step behind him to the right. They made their way quickly through the facility until they got to the lift. Once inside, Crosshair swiped his access card to activate the lift and it started lowering itself to the fourth floor.

After a few moments of ES-02’s shuffling and sneaking glances, Crosshair rolled his eyes.

“What?”

She twitched slightly, looking over at Crosshair with what he could only assume were raised eyebrows under her helmet.

“Sir?”

“You have something to say,” he said slowly, as if talking to a small child. “What is it?”

She said nothing, staring at him for a long moment before shaking her head and turning back to the front.

“Nothing, sir.”

He had to fight to not roll his eyes again. These conscripted soldiers were a real pain, and for once in his life Crosshair actually found himself missing the regs. If for no other reason than for their ability to act like actual soldiers and not just gossipy children who thought they were good at lying.

The lift came to a stop and Crosshair stepped out as the door opened, not pausing to wait and see if ES-02 followed him.

He quickly came upon room 4-8C and turned back to the other trooper before he went inside.

“I think I can handle myself from here,” he said dryly. “You’re dismissed.”

She hesitated and her movements shuttered slightly before she jerked her arm up in a salute, nodding as she turned to walk away. He kept his eyes on her back until she turned the corner out of sight.

With a sigh, Crosshair inserted his code into the pad by the door and stepped cautiously into the interrogation room, still unsure what exactly he was walking into.

“Ah, Commander,” Rampart called out. “Thank you for joining us.”

Rampart was standing in the middle of the room next to a blue containment field. In the field’s ray was a man, a clone based on the blacks and the build, head hung low to his chest.

Crosshair slowly crossed the room, stopping at attention behind Rampart.

“The good captain and I were just about to have a long overdue discussion, Commander, and I thought you might like to assist,” Rampart said with a smirk. “You two have a history after all.”

The clone in the containment field finally lifted his head, and Crosshair’s eyes widened slightly behind his helmet as he took in the scarred face beneath scraggly facial hair.

Crosshair hadn’t seen Captain Howzer since he was arrested on Ryloth. Not long after he was arrested Crosshair had been sent back to Kamino to help oversee the decommissioning of Tipoca City. He never knew what became of Howzer, assumed the man had been decommed or reconditioned - if the Empire still bothered with that sort of thing - and he hadn’t spared the other clone a second thought. A few weeks later and the call informing him of Hunter’s capture came in, completely removing the reg from Crosshair’s sphere of concern.

Now here he was, and he certainly didn’t look like the headstrong Captain he remembered on Ryloth. His face was gaunt, his cheekbones stood out sharper than any clone’s should, and his hair was longer, lanky and flopping over his eyes. His face didn’t look any better, skin mottled with black, green, and yellow bruising. He hadn’t shaved in quite some time, and the black facial hair was growing in patches around the scar tissue on his cheek and chin.

The biggest change was in his eyes - whereas the last time Crosshair had seen him his eyes had burned bright with passionate self-righteousness as he rallied the other regs against the Empire, now his eyes were dull. They lacked the intensity, the heat they’d once held within. Before him now were the eyes of a broken man, tired and so beat down he could barely hide it, leaving him a shell of the man Crosshair briefly knew. Crosshair wasn’t sure what the Empire had done to the clone captain, but whatever it was, it wasn’t pretty.

Something about the image tweaked some long forgotten, deeply buried part of his mind. There was something about seeing another clone, strung up like a puppet and beaten down, that left a sour taste on the back of his tongue, but he pushed it down. This man was a traitor to the Empire. This is what he deserved.

“I just have a few questions to ask you, CT-7569,” Rampart was saying as he walked around the containment field, staring up without feeling at the clone held within. “As long as you answer my questions honestly and without issue, no one has to get hurt.”

Rampart stopped when he reached Crosshair.

“Commander, if you would be so kind as to make sure he answers my questions honestly, and without issue,” Rampart said.

He held something out in his hands and Crosshair looked down to see an electro-baton in his palm.

Reaching forward slowly, he wrapped his hand around the hilt of the baton. Before he could pull it from the Vice Admiral’s palm, the other man closed his hand around the opposite end.

“Consider this a reminder of what happens to those who conspire against the Empire,” Rampart said softly, staring directly into Crosshair’s visor. Crosshair narrowed his eyes at the other man from behind his helmet, cognizant of the fact that the words were said quietly enough there was no way Howzer had heard them.

He wasn’t meant to. They weren’t meant for him .

Crosshair pulled the baton out of the nat-born’s hands and walked to the other side of the containment field. He pressed the button on the end of the baton and the tip crackled with electricity as it powered up.

“CT-7569, I have to say, I am very disappointed,” Rampart said, continuing his stroll around the containment field. Howzer followed him with lazy eyes. “Your service record during the war was quite impressive. The way you were able to maintain hold of the capital even after that Jedi scum was killed was quite the feat.”

Howzer shifted slightly, eyes glowering down at the nat-born, but he said nothing. Crosshair tightened his grip in the baton.

“You could have done great things for the Empire,” Rampart was saying. “But you threw it all away. And for what? A little girl? One man and his wife?”

Howzer growled low in his throat, but didn’t move.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

The reg continued to glare.

“Commander,” Rampart called, not taking his eyes off of the captain. “If you would.”

Crosshair clenched the end of the baton and lifted it, pressing it into the small of Howzer’s back.

Crosshair had to admit, he admired the way the other clone didn’t scream or yell. Howzer arched his back, breathing frantically through his nose as the pain built, his arms and legs trembling where they were held in place by the energy shackles.

Crosshair pulled the baton back and Howzer collapsed as much as he could while in the field's ray, his back and shoulders slumping as his head dropped listlessly to his chest. His shaky breathing cut sharply through the quiet stillness of the room.

“Well?” Rampart said, eyebrows quirked.

Howzer whined low in his throat, lifting his head just enough to look out at Rampart through hooded eyes.

“Howzer,” he croaked, voice hoarse. “Captain. Grand Army of the Republic. Designation CT-7569.”

Rampart said nothing, just continued to stare blankly at the clone captain. Eventually he turned to look at Crosshair and nodded.

Crosshair lifted the baton again, pressing it harder into Howzer’s back. This time Howzer couldn’t quite hold back his scream before he cut himself off, and Crosshair pretended not to notice the way his own hand twitched as the sound cut through the buzz of electricity.

“What can you tell me about the resistance on Ryloth?” Rampart asked once Crosshair pulled the baton back again. Howzer hung panting heavily within the containment field’s ray.

“I know Cham and Eleni were planning something,” Rampart continued as he walked around Howzer’s hanging form. “Those fighters they had at their disposal, the ones who attacked our transport--”

“You kidnapped their daughter ,” Howzer hissed, “what did you expect them to do?”

“Don’t play coy with me, clone ,” Rampart snapped, “you and I both know they were planning something before that. Arresting their brat just moved up the timeline.”

“Go to hell!” Howzer snapped back.

Rampart stepped back. “Commander, if you would.”

Crosshair’s hand twitched around the baton handle.

“9904!”

Crosshair’s hand jerked up, pressing the baton harshly into Howzer’s back once again. This time the clone captain couldn’t hold back the screams as the muscles in his back contorted violently again. Crosshair closed his eyes as the pain in his head rose in pitch with the man’s cries.

Finally, Crosshair pulled the baton back and Howzer slumped inward on himself with a whine, his head lolling forward against his chest. His breathing was shallow but slow, the muscles in his arms and shoulders twitching seemingly involuntarily.

“You tried to recruit other clones in your little insurrection,” Rampart said, leaning forward close to Howzer’s face. “I know how close you were to them. Who else is involved? What were they planning? Where are Cham and Eleni Syndulla?”

Surprisingly, the clone laughed. It was a dark and brittle thing that sounded ugly and wrong coming from the once amiable man.

“Save your breath,” Howzer said, glaring down at Rampart with a smug smile. “I’m not telling you anything. You may as well just go ahead and kill me.”

“No,” Rampart smiled back, and even Crosshair felt a modicum of apprehension at the wolfish look. “I won’t be letting you off that easily.”

Rampart took a step back, pulling a comm out of his pocket and pressing a button to activate it. The door slid open behind him and two TK troopers walked in.

“Commander,” he said, turning to Crosshair who was still standing behind Howzer with the now de-powered baton in his hand. “If you could escort CT-7569 back to his cell. It looks like we’ll just have to try this again later.”

Crosshair nodded and attached the baton to a hook on his utility belt. Rampart quickly left the room and Crosshair walked back around to the front of the containment field as the two TK troopers worked on removing Howzer from the ray.

The ray abruptly turned off and Crosshair watched as Howzer collapsed to the ground in a pile of limbs. He didn’t even try to fight as one TK trooper pulled him upright again by the arms, roughly shoving his arms behind his back and slapping a pair of binders onto his wrists. He groaned quietly as the manhandling no doubt pulled on his abused and aching body, but otherwise made no protest.

Once they were finished the two troopers stood back and looked up at Crosshair for instruction. Crosshair paused, staring down at the other clone.

Finally, Howzer lifted his head and stared up at Crosshair with wide, tired eyes. Somehow he managed to meet Crosshair’s eyes through the visor and Crosshair froze.

For a second Crosshair wasn’t staring down into the eyes of a broken clone captain turned traitor. For a second he looked at Howzer and saw another pale, gaunt, and tortured reg. Only instead of tired defeat he saw bright, beholden eyes, staring up at him with gratitude from the floor of the Marauder as they thanked him for helping to rescue him from Skako Minor.

Swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat he jerked his gaze away and gestured to the two troopers still standing at attention in front of him.

“Let’s go,” he said, turning toward the exit. Howzer grunted behind him as he was yanked to his feet and Crosshair closed his eyes against the pain in his temples that throbbed in time with his racing heart.

After he’d left Howzer chained up in his cell, he started the trek back to his quarters. The pain in his head had abated somewhat, but the day had left him exhausted and he was ready to lay down and attempt some sleep for the night.

The headaches had been getting worse lately, but the medics in the infirmary assured him time and time again that there was nothing wrong with him. Stress, maybe, they said. Psychosomatic. Most days were better than others but occasionally when the pain got too bad, when he couldn’t ignore the bright spots in his vision or the way his hands would tremble, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something they weren’t telling him.

The chip was gone, he knew that for a fact. Had seen the thing, fried and burnt looking, when they’d pulled it from his head after it was damaged on Bracca. Why some of the side effects seemed to linger, he didn’t know, and he didn’t have the energy to ask. He didn’t think he’d get an honest answer anyway.

It was just a little pain. He was used to pain, he could handle it.

The lift opened finally and he had to put conscious effort into not groaning out loud when he saw ES-02 standing inside.

They both stared at each other for a second before she stepped to the side so Crosshair could enter.

One he was inside and the lift began moving, 02 shuffled her feet before turning her head toward him.

“What did Rampart want?”

“Questioning that insurrectionist we arrested on Ryloth,” Crosshair said, leaning back against the transparasteel wall with his arms crossed. “See what he knows about the resistance on the planet.”

02 hummed. “Anything?”

“He still won’t talk,” Crosshair said. “But Rampart wants to break him.”

“Do you think he will?”

The lift began to slow to a stop.

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug as he pushed off the walk. “The Kaminoans trained us to withstand most interrogation and torture techniques. It might end up working against the Empire’s favor, ironically.”

“I don’t know why he’s bothering,” she said with a shake of her head. “It’s been nearly five months since that clone was arrested and he hasn’t said anything yet. If it were up to me I’d just get rid of him and be done with it.”

“I suppose he should be grateful it isn’t up to you, then,” Crosshair said dryly as they stepped off the lift towards his quarters.

“Honestly, he’s just a clone. Rampart should just put him down and move on.”

Crosshair abruptly stopped in the middle of the hallway and ES-02 nearly stumbled into him before she caught herself.

“‘ Just a clone?’ ”

ES-02 shrugged. “Well… yeah. I mean, there’s thousands of them. What’s one less?”

Crosshair hummed as he stared down the other woman, not sure if he should be insulted or impressed by her audacity. Not that it wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard from nat-borns before, even with the Republic. Or, admittedly, nothing he hadn’t thought for himself once or twice in his darker, more embittered moments. But for her to say it to his face, as her superior officer, was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.

He took off down the hallway again, fighting the urge to groan out loud as she continued to follow him. He was nearly to his quarters now, where hopefully he could get some peace and quiet to deal with his headache. If she tried to follow him inside, he might just shoot her and be done with it.

“I’m surprised Rampart is letting you near him, actually,” she was saying as they neared his door. “Considering how royally you screwed up dealing with those clones last time.”

This time when Crosshair stopped suddenly she did run into him. He watched with the smallest ping of satisfaction as she stumbled and had to catch herself on the wall.

“ What did you just say?”

She stared at him for a long moment. Her armor clanked loudly in the hallway as she shifted, apparently internally debating how far she wanted to take this.

“You heard me,” she said finally. “I think the Vice Admiral may be putting a little too much faith in you, is all.”

Crosshair’s eyes narrowed behind his visor and he rested his hand on the holster of the DC-17 on his hip. ES-02’s eyes followed the movement, but she didn’t stand down. In a moment of sudden clarity, every slightly off comment, every insubordinate slip, every “misheard” order and twitchy glance over the last three months flashed to the forefront of his memory.

“If you have something to say to me, then say it,” He growled, stepping forward.

ES-02 shifted slightly, hands fidgeting on their rifle, before stepping forward into Crosshair’s space in a way that was likely meant to be intimidating.

“I don’t trust you,” she said quietly, her visor boring into his. “I don’t know how you got off of Kamino alive, but I know you didn’t do it alone. You may have Rampart fooled, but I was there. I know what I saw.”

Crosshair tilted his head. “And what is it you think you saw?”

“I saw our squads’ bodies on the ground. I saw you fighting side by side with those clones.”

“The girl activated the battle droids,” he reminded her. “The girl you were supposed to capture. Are you really so incompetent you let a child and her droid get the best of you?”

ES-02 had the grace to flinch back a little at that, but she held her ground.

“You really expect me to believe our squad was taken out by simulation droids? ”

“Yes,” he said simply. “Maybe if they all weren’t so inept they would still be alive.”

ES-02 bristled and pushed further into his space until their helmets were nearly touching. He held his ground, arms at rest behind his back and he stared back at her dispassionately.

“Or maybe the droids were just a convenient excuse,” she said. “Maybe that was your plan all along. Get your old squad back to Kamino, overrun and kill us so you could get your little friends back.”

She let out a humorless chuckle, head tilted to the side as she regarded him.

“Though I guess they didn’t want you, either.”

“Careful, trooper,” he hissed, finally pushing back into her space. “I could have you court martialed.”

She shook her head, taking a step back.

“You think you’re so important, don’t you?” Her voice dripped with condescension. “You mean nothing . You’re an obsolete meat droid created to die in a war that doesn’t exist anymore. You’ve outlived your purpose. It’s only a matter of time before Rampart realizes that, and when he does? I’ll make sure they dump your body at the bottom of the Kaminoan ocean where it belongs.”

All you’ll ever be to them is a number.

“Get out of my sight,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Yes, sir,” she said, giving him a sloppy ‘ kark you’ salute, disdain clear in her tone, “ Commander.”

He watched the woman retreat down the hall until she was out of sight before turning and punching in the code to his quarters.

As the door slid shut behind him, he reached up and pulled his helmet off, throwing it across the room with a strangled yell. His head suddenly felt like it was on fire and he reached up to press his fingers to his aching temple.

If it were up to me I’d just get rid of him and be done with it.

I certainly hope so, Commander… for your sake.

We still would've taken you.

You’re my brother, too.

With a groan he collapsed onto his bed, burying his face in his hands as voices played over each other in his mind, desperately trying to ignore the cold that had settled in the pit of his stomach.

#cady writes #the chain #the bad batch #tbb #tbb fanfiction #star wars the bad batch #sw tbb #tbb crosshair #crosshair #my fic

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masterjedilenawrites · 3 years

Text

The Sniper and The Medic: Chapter 7

Starring: Crosshair, OC Joan Vo, Tech, Hunter, Wrecker

Chapter Warnings: Mention of injury, mentions of bullying

Taglist: @proadhog @skippyhopperwisdom

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

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Chapter 7: On the Mend

It was a full week before Crosshair saw Joan again. She canceled his check-ups, so he could use the time to rest instead, and Tech served as the messenger to report on his healing progress. And he was progressing, thankfully. The pain eventually subsided and by the end of the week, he didn't have to actively think about breathing anymore. As long as he was careful with his stretching and other movements, he was almost good as new.

In addition, their ship had finally arrived, and much to everyone's relief, Hunter stopped the simulation runs in favor of working on the craft instead. They outfitted it with all the tools and weapons they could get their hands on, and each took turns piloting through the storms of Kamino. They weren't allowed to break the atmosphere, but it would only be a couple short weeks before they were officially deployed anyway.

Crosshair found himself at a mental crossroad. They were getting ever closer to the moment he'd been waiting for his whole life, the day he finally got to leave this forsaken place. To say he'd hated his time here would be an understatement. The experimenting and the bullying and even the way it smelled.... He couldn't wait to finally be free of it. To be on real missions, not simulations. To see real trees and feel real dirt. To use his marksman skills, the only thing he was good for, to do something important.

But then there was Joan. There was hardly a moment he didn't think about her. He couldn't help it. She was unlike anyone he'd ever known and he couldn't get enough. Her voice, her smile, her gentleness, her confidence. Going a week without seeing her had been hard; he wasn't sure what he'd do the day he'd have to leave, and probably never see her again....

A sudden snapping noise came by his ear, forcing him to shake away his confused thoughts and turn with a scowl. Tech was scowling back.

"You didn't hear anything I just said, did you?"

Crosshair hadn't even noticed him approach. They were in the hangar, Hunter and Wrecker arguing nearby about what to name their ship. Hunter wanted The Marauder because it sounded "slick." Wrecker wanted The Havoc because it sounded "badass." Crosshair was staying out of it. And Tech had been gone for most of the day.

"Where've you been?" he asked.

Tech readjusted the pack he had slung over his shoulder with a huff. "If you'd been listening... I was doing some research on Felucian Gelagrubs in the library."

Crosshair almost started tuning him out again, until his brother looked up with a playful smirk.

"And then I ran into Doctor Joan. She was wondering if you were well enough to take her up on that deal yet?"

"What deal?" came Wrecker's voice, muffled by some food he was chewing on. Apparently he and Hunter had finished their argument and were more interested in this new conversation.

"Cross promised to teach Joan how to shoot once he felt better. I told her you were feeling much better, and she said she'll have a few free hours tonight if you're interested."

Crosshair wished he could smack the smug grin off Tech's face. And shove that turkey leg down Wrecker's throat to stop his howling laughter. Only Hunter wasn't making fun. If anything, he looked confused.

"But she knows how to shoot," he said with a frown. "She's told me...."

Tech shrugged, starting to walk toward the ship's ramp. "Maybe she wants a refresher?"

"Or she wants to cozy up to Crosshaaaair," teased Wrecker.

Crosshair felt his face growing flushed. He was about to snap at them for being idiots, but Hunter intervened.

"Okay, that's enough. I'm sure Joan didn't mean anything by it..." Hunter paused with another frown. He didn't sound convinced; in fact, he sounded concerned. But then he shook himself and gave Crosshair a nod. "If you want to help her practice, fine by me. Just make sure you help us with the paint job before you go."

Hunter gave the ship a fond tap on its hull.

"What name are we going with?" asked Tech.

"The Havoc Marauder."

* * *

Crosshair made it to the simulation room before Joan. He programmed it to Felucia, inspired by Tech's mention of it earlier. It was another green planet, but with stranger-looking flora and a mist that hung low in the air.

"This your favorite?" came her low voice. It was a little raspier than usual; maybe she'd been talking a lot that day.

Crosshair swallowed down a wave of nerves that threatened to overcome him. It was so nice to see her again after so long apart.

"It's a good challenge," he shrugged. "Decreased visibility. Uneven terrain. Hostile flora and fauna."

Joan stood beside him, looking around. She was wearing the same outfit as last time and had her hair braided back. A standard-issue DC-15A blaster rifle was strapped across her back.

"Did you steal that from a reg?"

She didn't laugh like he'd hoped, but she did have a faint smile. She swung the rifle around and held it firmly, confidently. "It's mine. Most medics were only given pistols, but my troop let me have this one."

"So you do know how to shoot," he said.

Joan lifted the rifle to her shoulder and aimed up at one of the simulation targets on a tree. She fired and made the hit.

"A straight shot with no stress or pressure, I'm not bad..." She then grimaced. "But I was never good in an actual firefight. They only gave me a gun for self-protection. The rest of the time I just focused on tending wounds, let my brothers take care of the cover fire."

Her use of the term "brothers" did not go unnoticed to Crosshair, but he didn't comment on it. He nodded his head and brought out his own gun. It was a much superior model than hers, but he wouldn't show off. Not too much, anyway.

He led her to some higher ground and got to work, teaching her what he knew, just like she had taught him the week before. He went over posture and breathing. He threw in some facts about angles and trajectories. He had her find an "anchor" for herself, a way that she would always hold the gun and her body, so no matter the situation, she could fall into that comfortable position. And he took any opportunity he could find to place his hand or his arm around her.

This was his life, things he'd engaged with for years and years. And even though he only had mere hours with her, he wanted to share as much as he could.

Joan was a good student. She wasn't the best shooter, but by the end of the night, she had made some improvement. She was no longer hesitating with the trigger and managed to take down a simulated Acklay despite being scared of it. That was a win in Crosshair's eyes.

When she finally showed signs of fatigue, he turned off the sim and sat with her on one of the benches along the walls. They sat in silence for a brief time, and Crosshair was grateful she didn't seem uncomfortable by it. He let his head rest against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Is Tech okay?" she eventually asked.

His eyes reopened, only so he could furrow them in confusion. "Yeah, why?"

She shrugged and stifled a yawn. "There were some... uh, clones bothering him in the library earlier. Wasn't sure if it upset him."

"He didn't mention it," Crosshair said with a clenched jaw. He really hated when the regs messed with his brothers, especially Tech.

Joan shifted to better face him. "He's a hard one to read. Most of his visits, I'm answering his millions of questions about human anatomy. He only puts stats on his chart. Like that assignment I had, to write things about yourselves? He drew a diagram of his body with arrows pointing out his height, eye color, body fat percentage...."

She chuckled softly and Crosshair found himself joining in. That sounded like Tech, alright.

"I don't know. I just want to make sure he's not really hurting inside. You were the one I thought I had to worry about. Wrecker wears his emotions on his sleeve. Hunter's guided by duty, so it's easy to predict what he feels."

"And me?"

"You put up walls. Which I get. It's hard to be... you." She cocked her head with a knowing look. "But when you respect someone, you let them in. And from there you're an open book."

He frowned. "I am not."

"You kinda are though," she laughed. "I can always tell by your tone when you like certain things or not. Scowling is your default, but when you're really upset your jaw clenches. And..." she looked down in her lap with a small smile, "you blush sometimes when I talk."

Crosshair's eyes widened in horror, which only made her laugh more.

"It's okay. It's... flattering."

He gulped. Her cheeks were pinker than usual as well, but that must have been from the training they just did. Surely....

"I'll, uh... I'll keep an eye on Tech," he stuttered. "He'll be fine."

"Good." She clapped her legs and stood up. "Well anyway, I won't keep you up much later. Thank you for the lesson. It was fun."

He stood, too, and decided to say, with a shake in his breath, "I hope it won't be another week before I see you again?"

"Well, I guess I should take another look at that little wound of yours soon."

"Tomorrow?"

Her smile faltered, ever so briefly, and Crosshair panicked. Was he sounding too eager?

"Sure. I should have some time... three o'clock?"

He nodded with an internal sigh of relief. She let her gaze linger on his for just a moment more, and he started to think maybe, just maybe, she had been blushing after all. Maybe there was a chance she liked him back.

He hoped she did. But at the same time, he knew it would only make it that much harder to leave....

#star wars #the clone wars #the bad batch #clone force 99 #crosshair #crosshair x oc #fluff #medical things #military things

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basura2319 · 4 years

Text

Nervous wreck

Pairing: wrecker x fem!reader

Requested by: anonymous

Anonymous:

“Can we get a Wrecker x reader one shot where wrecker really likes the reader and wants to be with her, but he thinks that she won’t like him because he is too big and rough? But it turns out that the reader loves wrecker since the day she met him? I would like this to be extra fluffy”

Warnings: none

WC: 2k

A/N: A huge thanks to @chaotic-noceur for beta-reading my fic and for coming up with this funny yet brilliant title.

“Wrecker? Wrecker!"

Wrecker felt Crosshair smack him on the back of his head.

“Wha-what?” he said startled, rubbing the area where his brother hit him.

Crosshair's eyes trailed to whatever was putting Wrecker in such a stupor and of course, it was you, the teams' Republic "supervisor." You reported to the Republic missions you tagged along with the Bad Batch, and you briefed them on missions the Republic ordered for you all to carry out.

“Quit gawking at (Y/N) and help me put these supplies back onto the ship,” he griped, lifting the crate of this month's supply of rations, medical equipment, and restock of weapons.

Wrecker blushed. “I wasn’t starin’ at her…”

“Sure you weren’t,” Crosshair taunted, before going up the ramp. Soon Wrecker followed him while carrying two crates.

Wrecker went back outside the ship and his eyes landed on you once more. You were carrying—more like struggling, to take the last remaining boxes.

“Let me help you with that.” He reached out to take one of the crates from your arms.

You smiled warmly at him, punching his arm lightly. “Show off.”

Wrecker tilted his head slightly away from you to hide the creeping blush on his face.

“Thank you as always,” you said kindly, following him on board. Wrecker’s blush grew even more at that.

After getting all the supplies gathered, they took off with no real direction to head to.

“So,” Hunter turned the pilot’s chair towards you. “Anything assigned to us?”

You shook your head. “No, I’ve received nothing as of now.”

“Great,” smirked Hunter, leaning back on the chair as tossing his knife. “More time for us.”

“Yeah…” you bit your lip in worry. “But don’t get too comfortable.”

“Tech, I’m starving,” drawled Crosshair from where he sat. “Go check what’s in the crates.”

“Why don’t you go get it,” Tech said without looking up from what was doing.

Crosshair flicked the toothpick he plucked from his mouth at his brother. “You’re closer,” he said smugly.

Wrecker caught you chuckling at their banter and the sound of your laughter caused his stomach to stir.

Tech shot him a slightly annoyed look before abandoning the piece of hardware he was working on. He opened the crate to look at the contents inside, but his expression showed disappointment and you all knew why as he pulled out a pack of plain, army-issued rations packs.

“Here,” Tech tossed the pack at him.

Crosshair groaned. “I’m tired of this. Is there seriously nothin’ else?”

“Let’s see, uh, we have dried meat, protein bars, Jogan fruit—”

“Gimme one of those.”

“Skrag,” you lamented at watching the morsels the Republic brought you all to consume. “I wish we could’ve stopped somewhere to eat real food.”

Wrecker, you hadn’t noticed, extended his hand to give you one of the packs along with a protein bar.

“Uh here,” he said awkwardly. His skin prickled when your fingers brushed over his momentarily.

“Thank you Wrecker,” you said with a small smile.

He felt himself smile, up until he saw his brothers staring at him with knowing looks on their faces. He frowned, grunting lowly at them.

The three of his brothers had watched him fall for you from the moment you joined the team. What they never understood was why he never attempted to make a move on you. You seemed to like him, like being around his presence. He’s the one who got you to laugh the most and the one you frequented to when you wanted to spar. Yet Wrecker knew himself. He knew he was rough, not a person people liked making conversation with. His height and bulkiness intimidated people which in turn, all those qualities made him self conscious, but he was good at appearing like those things never bothered him. His flaws convinced himself that he had no chance of being with a pretty, kind-hearted, yet fierce person like you.

It was nearing the time for all of you to rest although traveling in space made it hard to tell when it was day or night. One person, as always, had to stay up to watch and navigate the ship, but today was Hunter’s turn to do it. Just before Wrecker could go join his brothers in their bunks, Hunter stopped him.

“Listen, Wrecker,” he said to him in a low tone. “You gotta tell her how you feel. There’s no point in agonizing over it.”

Wrecker looked away. “She’s just a friend Sarge. Our teammate,” he muttered angrily.

Hunter raised a brow at him. “Well, when the war ends and she has to depart from the team without you telling her, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He thumped Wrecker on the back before heading towards the cockpit.

As Wrecker laid there on his bunk, listening to the snores of Crosshair and Tech, his mind drifted to Hunter’s words. What would happen when you’d eventually leave the team?

You’d probably find and end up with someone that’s not him; someone better than him. All because he was too scared to confess how you made him feel. However, the thought of watching you with another person filled him to brim with dread. Could he stand by and let that happen?

In his heart, no, he couldn’t let it happen.

“I hope you don’t plan on giving those to her,” Tech said while still fixated on his computer terminal, sitting on a rock.

“What? Why?” Wrecker said with an outraged tone, almost reaching for some bright red flowers on Kattada; a forest planet they landed on as a resting spot for the day.

“Unless you want (Y/N) to develop a rash, then I suggest you don’t,” he stated matter of factly. “The Iblorn’s sap creates a deadly rash to whoever comes in contact with i—”

Wrecker cut him off with a frustrated groan. He spotted purple flowers bunched up at the base of a tree. “How ‘bout these?” He picked them up and gave a sniff only to receive an onslaught of loud and rambunctious sneezing.

“Yeah, no,” Tech said before typing something rapidly onto his computer. “Try the Tumellas. According to this database, they appear to be harmless.”

Picking flowers for you shouldn't be so hard, thought Wrecker, and he had Tech, the smartest person he knew, to help him.

“Where do I find those?” he said looking at Tech expectedly.

Tech hummed in thought, reading through what he had on his screen. “You should be able to find them near a stream? Just find a yellow-orange flower with petals in a crown formation.”

Wrecker beamed, trying to contain both his excitement and nervousness. “Thanks, Tech.”

So with Tech’s description, he ventured into the forest to find a stream, which turned out to be not so difficult to find. He could hear the rush of water from a distance as he brushed passed bushes.

Okay, a yellow-orange flower with a crown petal arrangement. His eyes scanned over the bushes, but he found none. Wrecker found it difficult to even focus without his insecurities blaring into his head to stop whatever he was about to do. You would never like him the way he liked you. Yet despite his doubts, a small voice within the back of his mind was pushing him to try.

His eyes soon caught on the flower he ventured all this way for. The Tumella, as Tech said, was beautiful and so vibrant; hard to miss, like you, thought Wrecker. He plucked the stem of the flower to examine it closer. It wasn’t particularly small, but as it sat on the palm of his hand it was. Its center had a tawny brown bud and the smell—he took a sniff at the flower and grinned. Yeah, he was definitely bringing you these.

He crouched over to grab some more so he could arrange them into a bouquet of some sort. When he decided he had enough, Wrecker moseyed on back to the path he took to get back to you.

Soon, anxiety pooled into his stomach. His palms, which were carrying the flowers, were sweating in unease. He was scared, he realized the closer he got to the ship.

No, no he shouldn’t do this, what was he thinking?

Too distracted by his own thoughts, he didn’t hear you approach him.

“There you are,” your voice rang with enthusiasm.

Wrecker stopped in his tracks, assessing you with wide eyes, and without thinking, he quickly stuck the flowers behind him in panic.

Obviously, he wasn’t fast enough judging by your creased forehead, and your gaze centered on the arm he had behind his back.

“What are those?”

“Uhm,” He looked to the floor. “Nothing.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh come now, let me see! Did you find some kind of critter by any chance?”

He backed away from you slowly. “Um.” He didn’t know what to respond with. “Yes!”

“Oooh,” you craned your neck to try to see what it was. “Can I see it?”

“N-no,” he stammered.

“Oh come on!”

You gripped his arm to pull. “Show me!”

Knowing you weren’t going to stop any time soon, he cautiously presented to you the flowers.

You blinked in confusion a couple of times before talking.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” you replied with a small chuckle. You brushed your fingertips lightly over the petals in awe. “These are beautiful, where'd you find them?”

At this point, Wrecker’s face was as red as the markings on his armor.

“Uh, near the stream,” he managed to say through the lump lodged in his throat.

“So you collect plants now,” you said teasingly. “Didn’t take you for the type.”

He swallowed thickly. “Actually…these are for you.”

You froze and your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape at his words. Then your mouth lifted into a bright smile.

“Aww Wrecker,” you took them from his noticeable shaky hands. “Thank you, you’re so sweet! These are beautiful!” You sniffed them. “They smell wonderful too.”

Wrecker was fidgeting, seeing the happiness radiating from receiving his gift and it made it harder for him to say what he needed to say because he didn’t want to ruin this moment.

Your brows furrowed in worry at the clear and uncomfortable face he made. “Hey, you okay?”

His dark eyes snapped towards yours at the question.

“Yes, it’s just…” he wavered, bringing a hand behind his neck to rub at the skin. “I’m not good at this…”

Your gaze lingered at him in confusion. “Good at what?”

“I like you.”

The words spilled out of his mouth like a deluge.

“Well, I should hope so Wrecker,” you said with an arm propped on your hip. “We spend so much time with each other.”

Kriff.

“No… I like you,” he enunciated again, but this time slowly.

Your breath hitched and you both stood there, for what it seemed like forever in awkward silence.

The silence stretched on until you began to break into fits of laughter.

That was not the reaction Wrecker wanted and his heart felt like it was about to shatter.

Seeing the obvious hurt in his face, your laughter stopped and you launched yourself at him in a hug.

Startled at your abruptness, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, not fully grasping that this was real. You were hugging him right now.

“I didn’t mean to laugh,” you said wholeheartedly while pulling slightly away from his chest to look him in the eye. “I’m astonished is all because well… I like you too. Always have since the first time we met.”

Wrecker’s mind faltered at your confession. “Really?” He said, cupping his callous hand to your face in a gentle manner. “I-I thought you wouldn’t ‘cause I’m a giant, and-and act rough and people don’t like—”

You clamped a hand over his mouth to stop his rambling.

“I like you for you, Wrecker,” you said, looking at him with sincerity. “Your size and what makes you a fierce person will not, nor will it ever, turn me away from you, okay?”

You screeched when he lifted you over his shoulder and giggled at the boisterous shout of joy he gave.

Permanent Taglist: (lmk if you want to be added or removed) @chaotic-noceur @kaminobiwan

#requests #wrecker x reader #clone trooper wrecker x reader #wrecker

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admin-in-residence · 4 years

Text

Merci

Request: Hello! Any chance we can get a one shot/fic where the reader speaks a foreign language besides English, and the Bad Batch decides to teach her how to speak English? They give the reader daily lessons on speaking the English language and help her practice her English speaking skills

This is a cute idea, I just hope I did it justice...and hopefully google translate translated everything correctly? I studied french briefly, but I remember practically nothing...translations are located at the bottom of the fic.

Length: 1757 Words

When Commander Cody had called them in for a protection detail, Hunter had assumed it would be like any other detail the Batch had ever done. Go in, establish a contact with their charge, follow them around until the threat could be eliminated or deescalated, and then be on their way to some peaceful planet until the next job came through.

You weren’t like any other charge however...and by the sounds of it you’d be stuck with them for a long time.

“They have valuable information about the separatists.” Cody explained, “They came from a separatist's controlled planet and left everything behind in order to help the Republic. But now the planet authorities, the separatist council and the sith are after her.”

“Why can’t you just get the information and put them into safe housing?” Tech inquired.

“Well...we can’t really understand them.” Cody said, looking over to you.

You looked confusedly between the men in front of you, their language strange and foreign in your ears...what were they talking about?

“Peut-être qu'un droïde peut traduire?” You said, interrupting the men’s conversation.

Cody smiled sheepishly.

“You see...we have very little information about their planet or their language...the Republic destroyed most of it’s history after it aligned with the Separatists.” Cody explained, “We had a translation droid on it’s way, but they only have limited phrases in their databanks.”

“So why did you call us in?” Crosshair glared.

“Tech may be able to decipher the language and report back to us. He was the only person I could think of that may be able to help.” Cody said, “Plus, you guys can be her security detail. Just take her with you, decipher her information and then we can find safe housing for her until the end of the war.”

“The Commander is right...there’s not a lot of information about the language, but I think i’ll be able to figure it out eventually.” Tech said.

“Well then. I guess we’re on the job.” Hunter stated.

The strange goggled man had managed to explain to you that they were your protector’s and had you accomony you back to the ship...that was only a few days ago and you were starting to get sick of everything.

“Les séparatistes construisent une nouvelle usine de droïdes, avec de nouveaux droïdes que vous n'avez jamais vus. Ils sont grands et dangereux ... ils peuvent détruire des villages entiers.” You urged.

“What is she saying Tech?” Hunter asked.

The strange man with the bandanna seemed to be the mediator, knowing exactly when you were about to lunge across the table to strangle the goggled man when he misunderstood your words.

“Droids...something about droids. I’m assuming a factory...but...” The goggled man said.

“Apprend moi! Apprend moi-e-english.” You willed your tongue to conform to the strange lanquage.

“English?” Crosshair asked. “She just spoke our language.”

“You want us to teach you english?” Wrecker asked.

You excitedly pointed to the big guy.

“Oui!” You exclaimed excitedly. “Teach-English.”

“That may be able to work better...” Tech said. “If we can teach her our language, she would be able to tell us exactly what she needs to...and even if that prove’s difficult, learning some of our words in her language may help me decipher things faster.”

“Great now we’re teachers? Count me out.” Crosshair groaned, walking away from the table.

“What do you think sir?” Tech looked to Hunter.

“Let’s teach her.” Hunter said.

The week’s flew by as you began your teachings.

The first lesson Tech had completed with you was important item’s, like food, water, and feelings, you were able to tell them now if you wanted a ration pack, or needed some water.

“Je suis fatigue.” You smiled to the goggled man, who’s name was not in fact goggled man but actually Tech.

“English please.” Tech smiled back.

You still had a habit of slipping into your language, especially when you began to get tired, or get super excited.

“Désolée, I am tired?” You apologized before raising your arms up by your head in a sleeping motion.

“Yes, it’s been a long day. We should get some rest.” Tech replied.

The Batch had landed on a simple planet on the outer rim. White sandy beaches and warm weather greeted you when you went for a walk in the mornings.The water was crystal clear, and you could see little fish swimming by the shore.

The next morning you went out for your walk, and in the distance you saw one of the Batch sitting in the sand cleaning his gun.

The silver haired clone looked up at you as you approached.

“Bonjour.” You waved.

Crosshair sighed.

“It means good morning.” You explained. “But perhap’s your morning is bad.”

You had become friends with most of the Batch, Hunter was patient with you, Tech was always eager to learn and teach, and Wrecker was just a big gentle giant. Every day you grew closer and closer with the batch.

Hug’s were a constant with you, constantly thanking them with a quick hug. And they had even begun to reciprocate those hug’s when you learned something new or memorized a statement.

But Crosshair had distanced himself from you very early on.He wasn’t willing to listen to you try to speak english, nor listen to any of your language. It seemed like he was always upset with you for one reason or another.

And as you grew closer and closer with the others, he grew farther and farther.

“No...it’s not bad.” The man said. “Go ahead and sit.”

You smiled brightly at him as he pat the ground next to him and you eagerly sat down before shuffling closer to him.

“Your awfully close.” Crosshair grunted, pulling back a bit.

You tilted your head.

“Close.” He explained, poking your shoulder and then touching his.

“I need space.” He said widening his hands futher.

Ah...he was feeling crowded by you. You moved back some.

“Thanks.”

“Merci.” You replied. “That’s what you just said to me...it means Thank you.”

“Well then...merci.” He said.

“You do not- your uncomfortable with me.” You said, trying to explain in his language.

Crosshair glanced up from his gun.

“No.”

“You do not like me?” You asked.

“No thats not it either...” Crosshair grunted.

“Hmph.” You sighed. “I do not understand.”

Crosshair chuckled as he looked at you. Your arm’s we’re crossed tightly and your eyes narrowed as you looked out to the sea.

“It’s always been me and my brothers.” He said. “And then you came in.”

Your looked to him.

“I thought that even though you spoke a different language that Tech would be able to decipher it, get the information and you’d be gone like everyone else.” He explained, “Uh...you understand me right.”

“I have learned lot’s.” You explained, “Keep going...if I grow confused I will ask.”

“Right.” Crosshair answered. “Well...it’s been weeks and we havn’t even begun to report your info. But my Batch. My brothers, they’ve grown close to you. They’ve accepted you into our family.”

You nodded.

“But one day, your going to finally give out the information we need and then your going to be gone...and my brother’s will hurt. I will hurt.” Crosshair admitted.

Yes, Crosshair thought, despite pushing you and further away you had still found a place in his heart. You cared for his brothers...and for him. You had created food from your planet for them, helped fix things on the ship...you were a part of them.

“Well...she doesn’t have to go away.”

Crosshair turned, finding Hunter standing behind the two of you.

“What place is safer then with us. We know her language almost as much as she knows our’s. Cody will stick up for us...the best place for you is with us.” Hunter smiled at you.

“So no more push?” You asked, lightly pushing his shoulder.

“La famille reste solidaire. Tu es ma famille maintenant.” You said, “Family stick’s together. You are my family now.”

Crosshair smiled, ducking his head down to hide it from you.

The Batch stood behind you as you greeted the Jedi standing before you. Cody and his general, Obi-Wan Kenobi had met on Coruscant to confer with you.

“You have valuable information for us young one.”

“Yes I do.” You replied.

“There is a droid factory being built on a planet in the outer rim. The droid’s being build are not like any you have seen. They are bigger and meaner, they have the capabilities of taking out entire villages.” You explained.

“This is concerning.” Obi-Wan admitted. “But do you have any proof?”

“I can only offer you my word. But perhap’s sharing a fraction of my pain is enough. My own village was a test subject with the new droids, they tore it to shreds, they killed so many, I was lucky to make it out alive with my family. But that is when I knew I could not allow this to happen to anyone else.” You admitted.

“It is thanks to my new family.” You gestured behind you, “That I am able to tell you these things. They have worked hard to protect me and learn my language to translate...but they taught me even more with their language so that I could tell you myself.”

Obi-Wan brought a hand up to his beard, deep in thought.

“I will bring this to the council’s attention.” Obi-Wan stated. “I believe it is in your best interest-”

Everyone stiffened as you waited for his next words.

Was this it?

Would you lose your new family?

“-That you remain in protection with Clone Force 99. They have done well...and I believe they will continue to do so.” Obi-Wan bowed to you and then took his leave.

“Very good work. I will contact you when I have new orders. Get some rest.” Cody smiled following his general.

Turning around you launched yourself into Hunter’s arms, the rest of the Batch joining in on the hug.

“I’m proud of you.” Hunter smiled.

“We all are.” Crosshair butted in.

“Well...I did have the best teachers.” You admitted. “But where are we going to go next?”

The Batch looked at each other before smiling.

“How about you decide this time?” Hunter said.

“Well, I heard about this planet, Naboo! I hear it’s absolutely perfect.” You said, following Wrecker and Crosshair as you began walking back to the Marauder.

“She fit’s right in.” Tech said.

“Think we could get some armor on her, teach her to shoot?” Hunter asked.

“Armor, yes. Shooting no. Crosshair already did that.”

Translations:

Peut-être qu'un droïde peut traduire : Maybe a droid can translate

Les séparatistes construisent une nouvelle usine de droïdes, avec de nouveaux droïdes que vous n'avez jamais vus. Ils sont grands et dangereux ... ils peuvent détruire des villages entiers : The sepratists are building a new droid factory, with new droids you’ve never seen, they are big and dangerous...they can destroy whole villages.

Apprend moi : Teach me

Oui : Yes

Je suis fatigue : I am tired

La famille reste solidaire. Tu es ma famille maintenant : Family sticks together. You are my familiy now.

#star wars x reader #star wars imagines #swtcw #the bad batch #bad batch #tcw imagines #swtcw imagines #bad batch imagines #the bad batch imagines #sergeant hunter #crosshair #tech #wrecker #wrecker x reader #tech x reader #crosshair x reader #hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x reader #the bad batch x reader

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