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staycalmandhugaclone · 1 year

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If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved - Echo! You can read this little chunk as a standalone, or head back to the beginning for the full experience!

Sequel to Flinching.

Is this the softest Echo fic I've ever written? Yes. Did I cry while writing it? There is no video evidence. @actuallybarb thanks for requesting a second chapter!

Febuwhump Day 2 Ch 2

Flinching – Med OC&Echo

Warnings: Reference to attempted SA, reference to physical assault, some cursing, wound care, energy crash from excessive bacta use, non-intimate undressing, some self-deprecating thoughts

WC: 2,583

The painful control mediating his intentionally even breaths did little to hide the violent tension pulsing through Echo’s taut body with each thrumming beat of his heart. I could feel it in the rush of blood surging through the pulse point of his inner arm, watched it in the ball of muscle locking around his jaw, and I loathed the knowledge that I was the cause of it. Numb to the ache shooting through the abused lip caught between my teeth, I found myself straining for silence in my every tentative movement, struck beneath the weight of fearing my very existence in that moment was enough to further fuel his anger, and I loathed my own timidness just as violently as I loathed the cause of that rage.

“We’re not going to let something like this happen again.” The deep quiet in his whispered promise was so displaced against that frightful anger that I couldn’t help but look up to see the perfect stillness in those amber eyes; the conviction burning through his every word as the man I’d come to treasure for his gentleness suddenly embodied the powerful visage of the GAR’s most elite soldiers. It was easy to forget the simple fact that he’d earned his title of arc trooper; that the exceptional strength of his towering form was merely a small part in what made him such a dangerous force, but, in that moment, I could see a determination in those eyes that only a fool would doubt, and, for the first time in days, I felt safe.

My gaze fell away at the hiss of the medbay door sliding open. Stepping away from him, I ambled numbly about the room to gather my supplies, dreading the crash I knew would hit me mercilessly after smearing that blue gel over my wounds. At the first hitch of breath from abused muscles balking beneath the weight of a tube of bacta, Echo quickly stepped forward to take it from me, hand only just whispering against mine to ease the thick container from my grasp.

“Just tell me what else you need.” He said softly. Maker, I hated this… I’d sprinted through waves of enemy fire carrying over half my body weight in gear to reach wounded soldiers, but, in that moment, I couldn’t manage even retrieving my own damn bacta… Motioning vaguely toward the handful of supplies I’d already gathered, I managed a small shrug.

“That’s probably it, I think.” The words felt so small, and I found myself cringing at the mere sound of them. Tomorrow… Tomorrow I would force that bouncing smile back in place. Tomorrow I would remember every horror I’d faced and conquered. Tomorrow I would remember that I was strong, and I’d find a way to draw back my shoulders and plant my feet beneath me so I could stand tall beside these amazing soldiers – these amazing men… but, as I felt his hand settle gently against my back, I had to grant myself permission to be weak, if only for that night, and, amidst the quiet concern and utter lack of judgement from the man beside me, I found some way to forgive myself for it.

“I’m guessing most of the bruises aren’t just on your face.” He started tentatively, and a small huff left me at the quiet apology in his hinted words, head just shifting in a brief nod. “Are you okay with me helping you? I could get you a blanket – something to help keep you covered.” There was that gentleness I so loved him for; somehow finding a way to draw a small smile to my lips even through the haze of emotion that had robbed me of my strength and left me so deathly tired.

“It’s fine, Echo.” I breathed, shooting him a ragged shadow of a smirk. “Not like I don’t have a breastband on. Plus, medic school has a way of stripping people of that kind of shame.” He let out a knowing chuckle, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had similar experiences from his arc training. Still, when I reached up to undo the clasp at my neck, he turned away in some instinctual offer for privacy.

My fond smile lasted just until I’d begun rolling the skin-tight material up my chest, muscles seizing at the movement. Gritting my teeth against the unavoidable hurt, my hand tightened around the black fabric, scowling with the effort to push through the sharp pain tearing through my back and shoulder as I strained to silence the tiny hitches in my breath, the whimper I only just managed to choke back until finally caving, body trembling against the exhaustion and pain and blinding frustration.

“Echo,” his name left my lips in a quiet plea, “um… could you… I seem to be struggling a bit with this damn skinsuit.” He hesitated only a moment before turning back to me, brows just tensing above the darkness that filled those gorgeous eyes.

“Yeah,” he sighed softly, “turn around.” With a slow breath, I turned my back to him, absently reaching out to steady myself against the ledge of the counter. Still, I couldn’t fight back the way my body tensed at the first brush of his hand over the strip of exposed skin at my waist. “Sorry – hand’s probably cold.” He murmured, pausing only briefly in a silent offer for me to pull away.

“Actually, cold sounds pretty nice right now.” I whispered despite the way my body already shook, but the thought of that cold touch against the swollen and bruised skin just hidden by the thin layer of cloth promised a comfort I couldn’t help but crave; a balm to sooth the heat collected in mistreated flesh. Reassured I hadn’t changed my mind, Echo carefully slipped his thumb between the sensitive skin and the bottom hem of my shirt, movements impossibly gentle as he wedged the fabric up an inch at a time, shifting smoothly from side to side.

I knew exactly what he saw that made him suddenly freeze, heard the screaming absence of breath as the air staled in his lungs; felt the way his eyes burred into the mass of dark purple just beneath my rib. Without a word, his touch dragged across my back to push the shirt up just that much more, and he released a tense, shaking exhale. Movements softening into something that threatened to break me, he continued so slowly, I barely felt him until his fingers only just whispered against my neck to grip the bundle as he stepped quietly around me. I fought to hide the grimace twisting over my lips as I tried to move my arms enough to help him slip the garment over my head, but his quiet words quickly stilled that futile effort.

“I’ve got it.” Even that brief attempt to force such a simple movement left me struggling beneath gritted teeth and too-quick breaths, but that didn’t matter when I saw the ice in Echo’s carefully blank expression, eyes studying each mark of that man’s fury marring my chest, the vivid outlines of his hands clearly defined in nearly black shades of purple along my arms and across my throat just beneath where the neckline of my shirt had been, before finally settling on the ruin of my face.

The horrified rage that kept fighting to wrench his expression into a scowl left me frozen, guilt twisting through my chest. I should have just done this myself – should have taken care of it days ago so they never found out to begin with. The tiny tremor in his hand as he reached for me broke my heart, and I couldn’t bring myself to even breathe as his fingers fluttered across my ruined cheek almost too softly for me to feel before carefully slipping around the back of my neck. With such painstaking care, he lowered his forehead to just settle against mine, and I felt the way he shook beneath each purposefully regulated breath, eyes clenching shut against some fleeting struggle for control, and I couldn’t stay silent in the wake of his hurt.

“Hey… I’m okay.” I don’t think I believed those words until I found myself needing to breathe them into the shuddering air trapped between us. “I’m okay, Echo.” My hands moved on their own to whisper softly over the trembling muscle straining against his jaw. “I’m okay.” Only after several more strained breaths did he finally pull back, hand lingering on my neck for just a moment longer as his eyes locked onto mine with a sorrow and guilt that sent tears clawing up my throat. With a final, sharp sigh, he tore his gaze away, stepping back to reach for the tube of bacta.

He couldn’t seem to bring himself to meet my eyes again as he began meticulously covering each discolored patch of skin with that cool gel, touch such a gentle caress, I couldn’t help but find myself leaning into it. The few areas struck hard enough to split the skin, he carefully bandaged with textbook precision. After he tended to my back, I could have thanked him, relieved him of any obligation driving him to address each exposed patch of dark bruises in turn, but I knew that look in those haunted eyes. There was nothing he could do about what had happened, but, this, working to lessen the damage already done, this was with within his power, and it offered as much comfort to him as it did to me. So I stayed quiet, eyes watching the tender movements of his hand as he worked to remove even the memory of that man’s touch.

When he finally turned his ministrations to my face, that tension stole threw him anew. Lips just twitching into something that wanted to be a smile, I let my fingers brush over his wrist.

“It’s alright, Echo,” I promised gently, “you don’t have to-” but before I could finish, he silently raised his hand to the hard lump on the side of my jaw, guiding the clear blue gel carefully along the bruised skin of my cheek, over the painful gash on my lower lip, fingertips just tracing the swollen bridge of my nose. I let my eyes close as he circled the dark flesh surrounding my left eye, and didn’t notice the way my head began to sink forward until my name whispered gently over his lips.

Chest swelling with a nearly forgotten breath, I belated pushed myself back up, eyes reluctantly opening just enough to search for him. The worry pulling his pale face into the beginnings of a frown sent a flush of heat up my neck.

“I’m fine.” I assured him, though even I could hear the slight mumble in my words. “Side effect of using so much bacta.” A hum caught in my throat as I tried to blink away the haze of exhaustion. “And I haven’t… hmm… been a few days since I’ve been able to get much sleep.” His hand slipped carefully around my arm to steady me against the way my body had begun to sway, and I just noticed that tension steal back over him. Forcing some bit of alertness back into my faltering mind, I looked up at him; saw the way his attention had locked onto my hip, and I didn’t need to look to know he could see the outline of a thumb, that he knew the rest of the handprint wrapped around my waist just beneath the fabric.

“Unless you’re terribly eager to get me out of my pants, I think I can take care of the rest.” I whispered, pleased to hear that teasing lilt playing once more with my voice, and even the weak huff of a chuckle it drew from him was a balm to the terrible weight lingering between us. He glanced away from me a moment, jaw working over words he hadn’t yet managed to form before letting his gaze shift tentatively back to mine.

“Why don’t you take Hunter’s cot tonight?” He asked quietly, and I couldn’t hide my surprise at the offer. “He’s on watch for a while and…” The way his words stumbled over his tongue left me frozen, “I’d honestly just feel better if we can keep an eye on you.” A flush of color crept up his neck, silent plea screaming through those eyes. I didn’t answer for a moment, trying to come to terms with the idea, but I was too tired to grasp the thought for long. I just wanted to sleep; to be free of the wretched memory of that night. I didn’t realize how much I truly didn’t want to be alone until hearing the simple need in his words.

“If he doesn’t mind…” I replied hesitantly, failing to fully stifle the whisper of hope in my voice. A relieved smile flashed across his lips, shoulders straightening as he drew in a deep breath.

“I’ll talk to him to make sure. Finish up, and I’ll be back in a minute, okay?” I gave a small nod, hands already reaching for the waistline of my pants as he turned to leave.

I barely remembered the automated motions of lathering those last few bruises hidden around my hips in bacta before stumbling to my personal locker, the way my hands fumbled with the far more forgiving fabric of my sleepwear; the moment my body tried to collapse, falling heavily against the wall as my balance failed me in a strained attempt to step into my shorts.

The distant call of my name sounded more like a memory than a voice, and it wasn’t until hearing the tap at the door that a hum caught in my throat in some useless attempt at a response, only catching a brief glimpse of Echo as the door hissed open before that merciless weight dragged against my eyelids, body slumping sideways. I didn’t hear the quick flurry of words as Echo darted across the room, but the flush of recognition was all I needed to melt into his touch as he quickly pulled me against him.

“Hey-hey; you still with me, Doc?” The warmth of his breath tickled across my scalp, mind begrudgingly working to find some meaning in his voice.

“Mhmm.” The grumble barely made it past my lips, feet belatedly shifting to find purchase beneath me.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed, huh?” The warmth that touched his quiet murmur only further robbed me of any will to move, eagerly pressing further into him. “I know; that stuff can really take it out of you… Come on – just hold onto me, okay?” The world seemed to dance for a moment, wrenching some fleeting whisper of awareness back just enough to find the gentle concern in Echo’s eyes, and then nothing else mattered because I realized he was holding me.

“Echo.” His name stumbled over my lips, head wilting to rest thoughtlessly against his shoulder. “’m so tired.” I could feel his thumb brush softly over my arm as he started slowly through the ship.

“I know,” he breathed. “That’s good. You need to rest. We’ll keep watch.”

Body already rocking beneath the leisurely ebb and flow of exhaustion-dulled breaths, I managed a final hum in some fleeting recognition of his words and readily let the steady rhythm of his strides lull me into a blissfully empty sleep.

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Taglist: @arctrooper69 @ct-0113 @padawancat97 @eclec-tech

#soft echo #seriously #he's so soft in this #star wars #tbb #the bad batch #star wars echo #the bad batch echo #febuwhump2023 #febuwhump #comfort #flinching #tbb echo #my writing #arc trooper echo #attempted sa #wound care

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james-sunshine-potter · 1 year

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Evan and Barty would constantly cuss James out for ‘domesticating’ Regulus.

Once Regulus was a cold bitch, but now Regulus smiles and blushes and talks about butterflies being in his stomach.

Sure, they didn’t like Regulus being a bitch, but he was their bitch. And they would like that back.

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theecholegend · 30 days

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Eepy bunny

#Shhhh #let him sleep #Echo’s colour experiments #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #linked universe fanart #echo’s artworks #Soft Legend

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tridentarii-trash · 5 months

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Anyone else think about the “You have rendered yourself unlovable, Mercy” line in Harrow the Ninth way more than is probably healthy? Just me?

#mercymorn the first #harrow the ninth #that line haunts inside me like an echo #it’s something about gender #something about the ease with which men love each other but not women #the way women have to grind their edges into softness in order to be deemed acceptable #there’s something about it that makes something in me so afraid #but also I’m probably projecting lol

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justjettithings · 2 months

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when I saw how crosshair, echo, and rex were interacting with omega these past 2 episodes:

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thinkpink212 · 8 months

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Low-waste & minimal — she’s resourceful, thoughtful, creative and love the simple things in life.

#lifestyle #thinkpink upload #soft life #thinkpink moodboard #minimalist #minimalism #echo friendly #low waste

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knightprincess · 17 days

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Softness Suits You (Tech x GN! Reader)

Words: 2k Warnings: None - unless you count Kriff and Karabast as swearing. Note: Gender Neutral - Use of You and (Y/N) A part of the Bad Batch Gift Exchange @cloneficgiftexchange For: @theunderscorekinginyellow Prompt: "Softness Suits You"

“(Y/N),” called Tech, skidding to a halt as he rounded the corner. Blaster fire passed the corner mere seconds later. “Now is not the time to give up on me,” he commented, pulling you back to your feet. You’d slipped down the durasteel wall you’d been learning against with a sharp groan of pain, an arm tightly wound around your midsection, the other putting pressure on another unseen wound hidden beneath your armor and the layers of fabric.

“Wasn’t the time for the plan to go wrong either,” (Y/N) voiced, recalling how the mission had gone sideways quickly. “We went over the plan five times,” you grumbled, blowing out an agonized sigh as the stabbing pain grew in strength.

“I got the package, didn’t I?” responded Wrecker, the sound of blaster fire being exchanged echoing through the com.

“Anyone injured?” came Hunter’s smokey voice. Omega’s innocent one followed, celebrating after hitting another target with her energy bow. Echo soon confirmed he and Wrecker were slightly banged up, but nothing serious. Their main problem was being pinned down.

“(Y/N) got hit, unsure how serious it is,” announced Tech, seemingly ignoring your comment that you were okay. Even when it was evidently obvious you were anything but. You were losing blood, feeling dizzy and shaky, and could barely stand on your own two feet, and Tech had stated you looked paler than usual.

“Tech, get (Y/N) back to the Marauder,” demanded Echo, his voice severe and unyielding. The job for Sid meant little compared to the life of a friend.

“Omega will meet you there,” said Hunter. The young clone’s protests shortly followed his words. “That’s an order,” he added, slipping into a mix of his previous Sargent Mode and that of a protective father figure trying to protect their child and family. “The rest of us Plan 13.”

“Oh yeah,” exclaimed Wrecker, launching into the attack on droids and mercenaries alike. The human wrecking ball wasted little time running head-first into the battle again. His actions a reminder of his days as a soldier of the GAR, back when everything was simpler before the dark times began to strangle the galaxy.

“Oh brother,” mutters Echo before readying himself to rejoin the battle before him. Pushing aside the memories of the many food fights on Kamino before it was bombarded and forgotten about—memories of his brothers of the Domino Squad, 501st, and Bad Batch.

“Ready?” asked Tech, placing his D17s in the holsters for the time being, reaching for your arm to pull you back to your feet. Directing the arm around his neck as his own snaked around your midsection. Hearing the sharpness in your breath as you began to limp forward. The pilot soon pulled the yellow-tinted screen of his helmet down, scanning you over to get a clear idea of the damage and injuries sustained.

“What’s the prognosis, Doctor?” sarcastically asked (Y/N), your eyes glazing over as you become confused and disorientated. “Is it as bad as Crosshair’s friction burns from the Skako mission?” you asked with a light chuckle, wincing shortly after with the pain shooting through your ribs.

“I would argue that was worse,” answered Tech, recalling Crosshair grumbling for days afterward—even more so when Wrecker refused to let him forget about it. “However, this is a close second,” he said, trying to keep your spirits up and offer a distraction from your injuries and dire state.

“Damn. I was hoping to top him this time,” replied (Y/N), as if you had forgotten Crosshair wasn’t there. Instead, he had chosen to return to the Empire, even after they had bombarded Tipoca City with all of them inside. “Still working on that plan to get him back,” you add with the smallest of grins.

“Crosshair … chose a different path. We have to accept that, even if we don’t agree with it,” spoke Tech with a prang of sadness. Thankful when the Marauder came into view, Omega was already on the steps, waving at them with a small smile of her own. At least until it hit her, Tech was all but keeping you up now.

“What happened?” questioned Omega, quickly running back up the steps, moving to get the medical kit stowed away aboard the ship. At the same time, Tech pulled (Y/N) over to the sleeping racks upon getting you aboard. Nodding to Omega in thanks, when she brought the medical kit over to him, he reached for stem cells and bacta gel in hopes of aiding the healing process.

“We could use a lift,” came the booming voice of Echo, the coms lighting up with the disagreement between the Arc Trooper, Hunter, and Wrecker.

“That with or without Omega hanging from the ship and me falling out or over something?” asked (Y/N), doing your best to lighten the dreary mood and keep Omega from seeing just how bad things were. You had a soft spot for the kid and the boys.

“It was an unscheduled study break,” Tech voiced in response. At least explaining Omega hanging from the ship. A smirk appeared across his lips upon remembering the two separate incidences regarding (Y/N) falling over something and falling from the ship completely. “And momentarily lapse in coordination.”

“Just patching (Y/N) up, then we’ll be there,” announced Omega, keeping the trio of Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker in the loop.

“This is going to hurt,” stated Tech, receiving a (Y/N) famous deadpan look in response. At least informing him, he was pointing out the obvious again, without calling the exceptionally minded clone by the normal nickname. Captain Obvious.

“You mean more than it already does?” You asked, the next part of your comment forgotten as the bacta gel burned like someone had poured the lavas of Mustafar into your open wounds. “Kriff!”

“Language” worded Wrecker via the comm link.

“Aurebesh,” you replied, much to Omega’s amusement. Tech could only shake his head and roll his golden eyes.

“Switch out the words, (Y/N),” spoke Hunter, once again the familiar sound of blaster fire following his words, hinting at the trouble the trio was in now.

“Yes, Papa Hunter. Next time, I’ll use Karabast,” quickly shot (Y/N), not noticing Tech had stepped close with an anesthetic, at least not until he caught you with it.

“Rest for now (Y/N). Omega and I can handle the extraction,” announced Tech. He made sure you were lying comfortably on his rack before heading to the cockpit with Omega. The young clone gave Gonky his own mission to watch over you while you slept.

When (Y/N) finally woke up, the Marauder was on stable ground, and the ship was quiet—too quiet. The only noise was Gonky waddling the length of the ship with the normal “Gonk” on repeat, although the droid did seem to be pestering Tech, who sat at the communications desk just in front of the sleeping racks.

“Where’s the others?” you asked with a cracked and broken voice. Your throat was dry and scratchy from the lack of use. Slowly, you moved your head to look around the ship. The cockpit was empty, void of Echo and Wrecker. The rear gunner's port had no Omega resting there, although Lula and her little clone trooper were. Hunter was nowhere to be seen either. Only Tech and Gonky were there.

“Wrecker and Omega are following through with their tradition,” Tech replied, standing and walking over, an unreadable expression painted on his features. The moment he reached you, he placed a soft hand on your forehead, relief washing over him minutes later. "Hunter and Echo are delivering the package to Sid.”

“How long was I out?” you asked. Then it hit you: You were no longer on Eadu but instead back on Ord Monell.

“Just over a day,” started Tech, helping you sit up. “I’d appreciate it if we didn’t repeat what happened,” he added, pushing his goggles back up the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not gonna let you get shot, Tech, and I did tell you to leave me,” argued (Y/N), feeling relief now the majority of your pain was gone, either nulled by the anesthetic or washed away by the bacta healing the wounds.

“We don’t leave our own behind,” stated Tech, a matter of factly, with a pointer finger raised, as if to drill it into your head and make it stick. “The others are fine as well. Wrecker still thinks the scans are invisible spiders,” he added, allowing his stiffness to melt a little upon hearing your small ring of laughter.

“Hunter and Echo still the parents?” (Y/N) asked, side-eyeing and suspicious, just in case something had changed while you were out for the count.

“Careful (Y/N), your softer side is showing,” joked Tech. “Either that, or you hit your head harder than I thought.”

“Or I’m high as a kite and hallucinating,” you commented.

“Not lost your sense of humor, " Echo said upon boarding the ship. A scratch now donning his cheek below the left eye. However, the worry plaguing him now seemed to melt away.

“Mustafar would freeze over before that happened,” (Y/N) replied with a small smile, “Or Hoth would warm up.” You quietened for a few minutes before it hit you: Tech had said your soft side was showing. Didn’t it always when you were around your found family? “Wait, what you mean my softer side is showing?” you questioned, hearing Echo chuckle as he held his hands up in surrender before walking off to the cockpit.

“I don’t mean to offend you,” started Tech, suddenly uncomfortable, even more so when his hopes of you missing his words were dashed. “Normally, when out in the field or around Sid, you appear like Crosshair, stoic, cold, and armed with snide comments for enemies and sarcastic ones to lighten the mood,” he rambled, hoping to explain away what he now saw as a blunder.

“Tech,” you softly call, a sweet grin appearing now as you made it apparent you weren’t offended by the comment, merely curious.

“I thought it was obvious. Softness suits you,” directed Tech,

“Will you two make it official already?” voiced Wrecker as he and Omega returned to the ship. Hunter followed along behind, slightly confused by the comment but smirking nonetheless.

“Way to ruin the mood, Wrecker,” (Y/N) replied. “I’m recruiting Omega to help terrorize you the next time you go speed dating.”

“That was one time.”

“Wrecker went speeding dating?” questioned Echo

“Yup, It’s right up there with Hunter and Crosshair waking up handcuffed in a fountain,” you reply, hearing Omega laughing,

“I hate your memory right now,” commented Hunter, his cheeks redding as he sat down at his normal spot.

“Please do tell me more,” commented Echo, knowing he and Fives got up to some crazy things, along with Kix, Hardcase, and Jesse, things he often got a chuckle out of when he allowed himself to remember them. However, he wanted to know more about what the rest of the batch got up to during the war.

“No! I’m gonna die of embarrassment,” replied Wrecker, recalling the speeding dating disaster. Their first shore leave after joining the war effort. (Y/N) as their Jedi had told them to have fun, not expecting to get a call from Fox informing you, your squad was spending the night in detention.

“Wasn’t that bad” replied Tech, trying to soothe the situation. Although he’d admit you laughing from behind him wasn’t helping.

“I want to hear about it,” Omega called, her sweet, innocent voice seemingly breaking through. Hunter and Wrecker shared a glance, knowing (Y/N) couldn’t deny the young clone anything, although, thankfully, you told the stories in a child-friendly way.

“Was that the one I have no memory of?” asked Tech, recalling they’d gotten up to a lot of mischief. He’d personally set off a few security breaches from hacking sensitive information. Wrecker had set so many alarms off with his explosives that the Coruscant Guard had come to expect it and, at points, used it as a training exercise. Hunter and Crosshair found themselves in contests with different goals. Meanwhile, (Y/N) collectively named everything the Lame Game.

“Yup,” replied (Y/N), popping the p. “Never did find out how you ended up black-out drunk under the booth table. Or why you were wearing Wolffe’s helmet?” You laughed.

“Tech’s right; Softness does suit you,” replied Hunter, the smallest of grins appearing across his lips as he got comfortable, ready to relive the embarrassing moments of the past. “You’re still the best storyteller, though.”

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questforgalas · 9 months

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Passing the Time

Notes: a quick little diddy I wrote inspired by this art created by @zaana that I couldn't get out of my head and I also need pre-order 66 moments with the Batch like I need air. Just Crosshair and Hunter being soft bros and reminiscing

WC: 900

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Staring up at the night sky, Crosshair counts 7 different constellations laying within his vision. The midnight air still carried the day’s humidity, causing a thin layer of sweat to coat his skin underneath his armor even as he relaxes against the boulder he settled against at the beginning of his watch shift. A breeze rustles the palm fronds hanging above them, softly grazing his face, and in the distance, waves are heard softly rolling onto the beach on the other side of the grove.

Hard to believe just hours ago they were knee deep in Separatist territory doing what they do best. Especially what Wrecker does best with explosives.

Checking his vambrace’s chrono, they aren’t due to leave for Kamino for another 5 hours. Finally returning home after nearly 5 months of missions. Giving a content hum, he crosses his legs in front of him, leaning further into the boulder and settling in for the remainder of the night. The only noise disturbing the soft jungle symphony coming from the GNK droid keeping him company.

A thud from behind catches his attention, causing him to glance over his shoulder back at the Marauder. The gate was left open, letting the soft interior light spill onto the jungle floor and illuminate the figure walking towards him. Turning back to the jungle, Crosshair reaches into his belt taking out a toothpick to place between his lips as he waits for his sergeant to join him.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks when Hunter settles in next to him, using the GNK as an improvised chair.

“Can’t shut it down tonight,” Hunter replies. Crosshair gives a hum, understanding. As they grew older, the nights Hunter couldn’t shut his senses down became more rare, but occasionally, after a string of tiring missions, they could prove too much for his exhausted mind.

“Echo and Wrecker out?”

“Like lights.”

“Tech?”

“Doing something to the Marauder. As always.”

Crosshair huffs a sigh. “He’s going to work himself to death.”

“When did you become a mother hen?” Hunter jokes, playfully jabbing an elbow into the sniper’s arm. That earns him a grumble that loses its bite when Crosshair can’t help the smile tugging on his lips.

“Simply keeping the efficiency of the squad in mind,” Crosshair counters.

“Uh huh. Don’t worry, Cross. Your secret’s safe with me. Can’t let anyone think you’re not a prickly asshole,” Hunter teases.

The sniper rolls his eyes and flicks the toothpick to the other side of his mouth as he looks back up to the sky, letting the comfortable silence between him and Hunter settle around them. Mind on the brother likely buried in wires, he smiles up at the stars as his thoughts bring up memories previously forgotten.

“Remember when we were younglings,” Crosshair starts, “and he was determined to build his own battle droid? Wanted it to go on missions with us.”

Hunter groans, “Convinced Wrecker to break into the training lab with him to scrap and carry parts back to our barracks. Was set on having it ready for our next simulator. Stayed awake for days to finish it. He was so tired, he accidentally mis-wired the activation so it came alive in the barracks. Started firing everywhere.”

“A bolt went right by my head! Hit my favorite target card!” Crosshair exclaims as he pushes himself off of the boulder, turning his body towards Hunter.

“I’ve never seen Wrecker move so quickly when he flipped the table and took cover,” Hunter continues. “I had to tackle Tech down since he was still in a stupor, just staring at the droid wildly firing. It finally ran out of juice after a minute, but the damage to the barracks…”

“Can’t believe Nala Se’s check up was scheduled for that day. Remember the look on her face when she opened the door?” Crosshair says with a laugh.

“Still not as good as Lama Su’s when I had to explain to him what happened after being called to his office,” Hunter snickers. “Only the second time that week too. Pretty sure that was a record for us.”

“What was the most?”

“In one week? Nine. Became more frequent after Echo joined. Who knew an ARC would be such a troublemaker,” Hunter chuckled.

“He’s not so bad. For a reg.”

Hunter flicked his gaze up to Crosshair and smiled at the fondness he found in his eyes. No one was more protective of their squad than the ARC, and no one was more protective of the ARC than their sniper.

Turns out, Echo has as much patience for bullies as he does for Separatists, and the Batch learned quickly that something as small as a snide look sent their way resulted in it being punched off the reg’s face by a scomp. Naturally, Echo’s fierce loyalty and no hesitation to knock down regs earned him a high spot in Crosshair’s regard.

“Pretty sure he gets it from that Fives he’s always talking about,” Crosshair says.

“Can’t really picture Rex having a bunch of rowdy ARCs,” Hunter mutters.

“I think Skywalker required all of his attention. Let the others get away with it,” Crosshair chuckles.

Hunter matches his chuckle with his own. “Remember when…”

Surrounded by the quiet of the jungle, the brothers swap stories until the dark hours of night soften with the first rays of the sun crawling up to the horizon. The quiet is interrupted by Wrecker’s laugh inside the ship, and the sergeant and the sniper join their squad as they prepare to return home.

#tay writes #divider by samspenandsword #star wars #the bad batch #hunter #crosshair #echo #tech #the bad batch tech #the bad batch echo #the bad batch crosshair #the bad batch hunter #pre order 66 bad batch #soft bros

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ffxiii-et-al · 8 days

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Always an Angel, Never a God

Joshua Rosfield - Final Fantasy XVI

Echoes of the Fallen

Pre-patch camera

Photomode

#final fantasy xvi #final fantasy 16 #Joshua Rosfield #ff16 #Joshua ff16 #ffxvi #photomode #echoes of the fallen #ff16 eotf #sweet soft birb boi #mine

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xecutivecucumber · 2 months

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You know, Crosshair is probably the only character that turned out softer than I imagined them, but also while staying completely in character. And I am loving it.

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staycalmandhugaclone · 1 year

Text

Every Night - Echo

This can technically act as a standalone, but this is actually a fanfiction for my fanction requested by @shersten-the-golden and doubly requested by @actuallybarb. Meaning: this is not canon in my fanon; however, this is some delicious Echo angst and even more delicious fluff. So. Enjoy.

If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved!

This can be read anytime after Panic but was written after Hunter Fever Pt 2.

Warnings: Body dysphmorphia from prosthetic limbs, angst, procrastination, kissing with vague reference to more if yuh wanna read it like that.

WC: 2,626

If asked, I couldn’t say what it was that woke me. The unhurried cadence of Wrecker’s unabashed snoring had long since become an ambience as familiar as the sound of my own heartbeat, and whatever noises echoed beyond the Marauder’s walls were quieted to the point of utter disregard as we slept within the comfort of our durasteel home. Tomorrow, we’d move out in search of whatever target had the misfortune of catching our superior’s attention, but, for just that night, we were free of worry and obligation.

Still, I couldn’t sleep. Resigned to searching out some reason for my restlessness, I crept from the medbay, bare feet revolting against chill of the metal floors as I tread silently through the bunkroom. All but Echo lay in blissful states of sleep atop their cots. Glancing briefly at my chrono, I felt myself frown: Echo should have woken Wrecker nearly an hour ago to take watch…

Moving with greater purpose, I made my way through the halls of the Marauder, pausing just long enough to slip into boots as the ramp lowered before treading out into the chill of the night. The apparent desert of this planet made the biting cold in the air all the more poignant, and I quickly found myself wrapping my arms about my chest as I began searching, certain the temperature was all the more troublesome for Echo. Rusty boulders the size of walkers obscured much of the endless seas of rock and sand stretching endless around us offering just as precious cover to us as it did to any potential threats, but, unless something had gone terribly wrong, I harbored no doubt that he would be nearby.

My hunt lasted mere minutes before spotting a flash of crimson and grey atop one of the nearby stones. He sat gazing blindly toward the distant horizon where the pale blue moon was just beginning to vanish, one leg hiked up to his chest while the other lounged lazily over the uneven rock. Something quieted me in that split second before calling out to him, some wisp of understanding my conscious mind hadn’t yet understood, but then I noticed the way his hand gripped mercilessly around his knee, fingers straining against the metal joint. I saw how faintly his breath shook despite the carefully regulated rhythm.

He was crying.

I lingered for barely a second longer in that glimmer of indecision before starting toward him. Still, it wasn’t until I pulled myself over the ridge of stone that he noticed me, body tensing violently beneath a sharp gasp before turning quickly away as though there was some hope of hiding the lines of tears streaking his face. I offered no sign of even noticing his reaction as I settled down beside him, knees tucked to my chest to watch the moonset despite the nervous glances he kept sending toward me.

“I still can’t touch the scars.” There was no sorrow in my softly spoken words; no precursor to the truth I was so loathed to admit to anyone else. “If I let myself think about it – that it’s all metal and wires in there instead of bone, I can barely walk on it.” I didn’t need to look at him to feel the understanding slowly sink in; to see him quiet in the wake of my admission.

“When that EMP went off, and it went dead… I was so… so mad.” I told him with a scoff. “I was mad that I had to rely on this thing that had failed me where my body wouldn’t have. I was mad that I fell so quickly into that panic… I was too busy being mad and scared, that I never gave myself time to be grateful that, even though it isn’t perfect, it’s better than having nothing there at all… To be honest, I’m still pretty bad at that last part.” Only then did I turn to look at him, searching for him only out of the corner of my eyes in case he shied away from my gaze, but he wasn’t looking at me.

Attention locked on the artificial joint still trapped in his hold, he wilted before me, tension abandoning him into something too near despair for my heart to even bare witness to without twisting.

“I just…” The air stilled in my lungs at that first attempt to speak, at the way his voice caught on faltered breath, forcing him to pause before trying again. “I woke up like this… I didn’t… And there wasn’t time to even understand what… what happened.” I wasn’t there for his rescue, but I knew bits – I knew of the state he was found in and of the battles he faced immediately after… It took me nearly a month to learn to walk. He had to fight for his life without being granted even a moment to begin to come to terms with his new body.

Without a word, I reached out and rested my hand atop his, touch barely there until he hesitantly uncurled his fingers, amber eyes studying his own movements as he slowly allowed himself to return that touch, and then he was clinging to me, grip strong enough to make the joints ache, but I merely offered him a small smile. Brows drawn sharply together, teeth ground, he let his chin fall to his chest as his shoulders bucked slightly.

“I know I should be… I can still function, so I know it shouldn’t…” His lips wrenched into a scowl against the words he couldn’t bring himself to say.

“Echo,” I barely breathed his name, shifting nearer to him until my thigh brushed his hip. “There’s no ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t’ with this.” He turned slightly away from me, but I could see the rage in him, the desperate sorrow and regret. “You have a right to be angry; to be sad… It’s okay to feel those things.” I reached my other hand toward him, gently whispering up his jaw, his cheek in a silent plea to face me; to believe me, but he wasn’t quite ready yet, so I merely waited, thumb brushing along skin that was so pale for so long but was finally regaining that stunning gold.

His other arm started to raise, as though moving to reach toward that touch, but then he stopped, eyes shifting only briefly to the scomp before closing with a deep, shaky sigh.

“I’m… There’s barely anything left of me to feel…” I could hear how the words wanted to lash out, how they longed to veil that sorrow in an anger that wouldn’t come, that he’d never allow himself to direct towards me, and that simple realization threatened to ruin me. My fingers shifted more firmly against him as I leaned forward to try to face him.

“I feel you, Echo.” My gentle smile sang through the quiet words, just managing to draw his attention back to me for a moment before his brows drew together, gaze dropping to glare into the stone beneath us.

“Don’t do that.” The heartbreak in his voice felt like a dagger tearing through my chest. I froze, struck by the sudden chill radiating from him.

“Do what?” I heard the question fall from my lips, bathed in a confusion I felt lost in, studying him with the entirety of my being for some clue as to what I’d done, some hint as to how I might help him.

“Act like nothing’s wrong with me, like all this metal and wire isn’t…” His jaw snapped shut around the words, body tensing more with each passing second.

“Isn’t what, Echo?” I pressed. That earlier softness was gone. I wasn’t asking him to answer me; I was demanding that he answer it for himself, but he kept that glare trained pointedly away from me, cheeks taut from how he ground his teeth. “No – hey; don’t do that. Dammit, look at me.” I couldn’t tell if I was begging or ordering, but the desperation was clear, hand pulling more firmly against his jaw. With a resigned, impatient sigh, he reluctantly yielded beneath my touch, weary eyes dragging up to meet mine.

“Do you really think it bothers me?” I asked, torn between horror and insult, freeing my hand from his that I might bring it up to cup the other side of his face as well. “I want you to look me in the eyes, Echo, and tell me: do you really think I care about that – do you really think I see you any differently because of it?” Beneath the faintest hint of anger in my words, all I could hear was my plea for him to deny it, to offer some reassurance that he knew me better than that…

He clung to his empty impatience for mere seconds, breath just catching in the beginnings of a retort he wouldn’t let himself say.

But then that feigned disinterest began to crumble, and the devastation and sorrow and pain broke through. His head hung limp in my touch, eyes shutting against the tears he had no hope of holding back, and I immediately drew him against me, pushing myself onto a knee to reach him.

“I didn’t know you before,” My lips dragged atop the cool skin of his forehead, “but Echo, I don’t need to… I know you now.” I cherished the prickle of facial hair beneath my palms as my thumbs delicately swept away each drop that slid down cheeks no longer gaunt with famine. His hand hesitantly released that death grip on his knee and slid around my side, my back, movement tentative, almost shy, as though certain I’d balk at the contact at any second, but I merely dropped my forehead to rest against his.

“You’re brave, Echo,” I continued, murmuring praise into what sliver of air lay between us. “You’re loyal, and you’re smart, and you care so damn much…” I let my touch slip back just enough for my fingertips to brush against his headpiece, “This… doesn’t change any of that…” His arm trembled as he clung to me, chest bucking beneath tense breaths as he fought for some glimmer of control. “It doesn’t change how deeply I trust you… how much I enjoy your company…” He pulled back just enough to glance up at me, and I broke beneath the desperate need screaming from those stunning eyes.

“You may be different,” His gaze refused to leave mine for even a moment, as though my every word held a secret too precious to risk missing, “but that doesn’t mean ‘bad’… that doesn’t mean ‘less’… especially to me.”

I barely noticed him move, but my entire body lit at his touch, unable to silence the tiny gasp. There was no hunger driving him toward me, no eager want spurred into action by a burning lust. He kissed me with a gentle devotion, worshiping me with every tender, subtle shift of soft, plush lips. He kissed me with such care, I forgot the dangers of war around us; I forgot the labels of medic and soldier. I forgot about the biting cold of the night and the threat of the mission looming with the inevitable rise of this planet’s golden sun. Shamelessly, I forgot about the very existence of reality outside the consuming love in that kiss, and, shamelessly, I kissed him back.

The instant I returned that quiet caress, a nearly silent sob escaped him, and I could have moaned as his hand trailed up my spine, palm cradling my neck for mere seconds before letting his fingers tangle into my hair, hold just enough to beg me not to pull away… not yet. The world could have erupted into fire, and I wouldn’t have been able to tear myself from him, chest trembling with fleeting gasps beneath the violent need burning through me.

The stiff bar of his scomp stretched across my lower back, and I eagerly yielded beneath the gentle pressure, twisting further into him as he held my chest flush against his, hands ceaselessly dragging him toward me. Time didn’t matter as I finally tasted him, welcoming the fleeting dance of his tongue with a growing frenzy, and I couldn’t silence the tiny whimper as the nerves sweeping down my spine flared to life in a burst of static and heat.

With a gasp, he pulled back, wide eyes staring at me with some crippling cocktail of shock and fear and guilt. Frowning, I strained to regain even the beginnings of thought with which I might quiet that frightful doubt.

“Kriff, I… I’m s”

“Don’t.” That single word fled in a tiny huff, mind finally regaining the capability of at least enough logic to speak, driven by the desperate need to rid him of every whisper of fear. “Don’t you dare…” I was panting, fingers still dancing softly against his jaw, body still pressed to his. “Don’t apologize… not unless you regret it.” He looked trapped, terrified to respond even as the faintest whisper of hope lit in that stunning amber. I felt my jaw shift, but whatever words vied for speech fell silent beneath my silent plea for him to kiss me again.

He lingered in the briefest echoes of uncertainty, but, when my lips sought his, when I stole that final stretch of meaningless distance for only the faintest of touches… when I pulled back too soon, every fiber of my being begging him to follow me, that final shred of reservation caved. I didn’t try to fight the breathy moan of relief that left me in a deep sigh, body melting into him.

I could feel his smile, could feel the tension flee him even as his chest swelled with glee. Still, his every touch was impossibly gentle, reverent, and my heart surged at the depth of safety I felt in his embrace, at the love pouring through him with every lingering press of his lips to mine, with the tender sweep of his thumb along the back of my neck. I wanted to live in that moment for the rest of time, relishing the gradual shift into almost lazy, unhurried touches as we merely allowed ourselves the freedom to explore this, to explore each other safe within the knowledge that there was nowhere else either would rather be.

When he finally pulled back, there was no fear or doubt or regret in those golden eyes, and I couldn’t help but light at the simple joy I found there instead.

“I should skip watch-change more often.” He murmured, and I could feel the huffs of laughter in his words. Beaming, I couldn’t help but mimic that glee, shoulders shaking beneath a soft chuckle.

“Yeah? You going to make me come hunt you down like this every night?” I asked, brow hitching, and his smile only grew.

“Depends… would you come looking for me that often?” He teased back. I nearly rolled my eyes at him, but caught myself, struck by the overwhelming warmth fluttering about my chest.

“Yes.” I murmured, leaning in for another fleeting taste of those lips. “Every night.” The quiet that stole over him was more precious than any treasure coveted by man, more profound than any combination of pretty words strung together by poet or philosopher. In that gentle silence, I kissed him again, grateful for every second the darkness of night lingered, delaying the coming morning when I’d finally need to drag myself from his touch, when we’d be forced to remember the awaiting mission and unending war. For however many minutes and hours remained veiled beneath the breathtaking dance of distant stars, we existed only in the comfort and safety and desire of each other’s touch.

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