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apocalyp-tech-a · 15 days

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SOMEWHERE OVER THE RAINBOW 🌈 (TechxReader)

Hello! This is my Bad Batch XReader Exchange gift for @deezlees for the @cloneficgiftexchange run by @ghostofskywalker!!! 💜

Prompts: Learning to ride a horse || Going on a vacation together || His first time at a history museum || Confident reader persona

Words: 2500

Warnings: None except flirtation maybe

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55173340

A/N: Having background in public history and having already written Tech at museums, this was a perfect matching!!! Hope you enjoy it! 🤓 And thank you to @cloneficgiftexchange for running it!

SOMEWHERE OVER THE RAINBOW 🌈 (Tech X Reader)

The sun shone through the early morning commute of speeders and ships traversing Coruscant's sky, its pale blue color muted by smog that even the planet's filtering system could not alleviate. Towering skyscrapers of grays in every hue passed by as you navigated to the Grand Army of the Republic's base.

Upon pulling up in your speeder, a bright millaflower red Mustang XD38, you saw your future passenger salute you by casually flicking three fingers from his brow. You brought the speeder to a stop and flirted. "Hey good looking. Looking for a ride?"

"That depends," he said as he hopped into the passenger side with one dexterous and confident move.

"Depends on what, Tech?" You raised an eyebrow at him.

"On if I can be the driver." He adjusted his goggles hopefully.

"Can I pilot the Marauder?"

"No."

"Then you can be my CO-pilot. Just remember, I am the Captain here." You winked at him playfully.

You revved up the engine, but it wasn't loud enough to cover Tech's large sigh of frustration. You chuckled to yourself proudly before shooting him a grinning glance. "Aw, don't be like that, maybe you can drive back."

"That is exactly what you said on our previous two outings." Tech held up a pointed finger in a very casual, yet disgruntled manner.

"Yes. Hence the word "maybe."

Tech's propensity for arguing about who was driving dissipated as the museum came into view. His eyes were wide with excitement, though you knew he was trying to keep that emotion at bay. You had seen him go on one of his excited know-it-all rants before. You found them amusing, endearing, and most of all impressive. He was the smartest person you knew, whether it was from Kaminoan meddling or not, didn't matter. You loved listening to him, and he loved to talk. And you didn't just like listening to him because of the pleasing sound of his voice and looks, but because he actually did talk about things that were interesting.

After parking, you both walked to the museum's main entrance. Tech adjusted his goggles as his head tilted back to take in the much larger than necessary doors adorned by a full arch of sculpted marble, stone, mythological figures from all over the galaxy.

"Shall we?" You suggested with a smile.

Tech nodded in the affirmative. "After you, Madame." Tech took note of the strange face you gave him upon being called 'Madame.' Perhaps it was a little old fashioned, but he still had not figured out what else he could use in place of your name without being too forward or disrespectful. Sometimes you called him 'Hot Shot' or 'Ace' which were exceedingly better than the names his brothers called him.

As for you, his brothers were not without suggestions. Crosshair suggested 'Doll,' Hunter suggested 'Sweetheart,' Echo suggested 'Dearest,' and Wrecker suggested 'Booboo-tooka.'

None of those monikers were quite sufficient, however, but Tech knew a solution would eventually present itself.

Since you had already purchased tickets as a surprise for him since he had not only repaired, but upgraded and heavily modified the repulsor system for your speeder, you were able to acquire visitor badges quickly and began your mosey through the museum.

With twenty levels, there was no way you could see everything in one day let alone a few hours, but you knew Tech had marked out an itinerary on his datapad to follow at your suggestion. You knew he only had so much leave to see what most piqued his interest. Even though he wanted to see everything, you finally convinced him to whittle it down to four floors.

"Let's start with the Paleolithic and Neolithic," he said with a tweak of his goggles. He started walking toward the lifts as if he had been there before, but you knew he had simply memorized the entire museum's layout.

"Sounds good to me," you said walking beside him. As you stood in the lift, you tilted your head up to study his profile as he continued to look down at his datapad. You wanted to blame the movement of the lift tube for the slight buckling in your knees, but you knew it was all due to his handsomeness.

Your heart pitter-pattered the moment you had seen him at 79s three months ago. You weren't one to go pick up guys at bars, but there was something unique and enticing about him. You thought little of it or him, figuring to never see him again until he came into your electronics shop in search of a capacitor.

Apparently your knowledge of computers made an impression because he came in the next day looking for a hyper-regulator. With fate on your side, you asked if he wanted to meet you for a drink and after some adorable awkwardness, he agreed.

The lift doors slid open and you stepped into a carefully curated world of wood and stone. Dioramas with the first humans, the first Trandoshans, the first Rodians, Twi'leks, and Pantorans were set up along one corridor.

"It is fascinating, the similarities between different species as pertains to the genesis and evolution of technology," Tech marveled as you came to the exhibit of like tools from all over the galaxy. "The Twi'lek arrowhead is quite similar to the Devaronian and Human. The same goes for ax-heads and needles. But once you get to items like beads and pottery vessels, you see the cultural trajectory lose conformity and develop based on materials available by individual local environment and customs."

"I had never really thought about it like that. I'm used to technology and more recent history I guess." You shrugged.

"Indeed. One can hardly expect the modern mind to memorize all of the information whether historical or technological. Though I do try."

"You have some 'exceptional' advantages that the rest of us do not," you teased. You had not known him three rotations when he went on a detailed explanation of he and his brothers' 'defects' which did not sound like defects at all to you. Then he continued to explain how those traits made them more deviant than defective. You certainly understood that side of him as he often met with you when he should have been attending to GAR duties.

Satisfied with your visit to the 'stone' ages, you next traveled through time and to the fifth floor to the rise of cities and nation states.

Tech stared at the first exhibit with fascination. "The agricultural revolution varied by planet. Those that did not have crops that could be mass produced could only sustain small settlements, whereas those with large crops could maintain large cities that grew exponentially into kingdoms and nations."

"And wars and starvation."

"Yes," Tech turned to you, his brow furrowed with concern at your statement. Did you not find history as fascinating as he did? He knew your views on the war and cloning. He dared not ask, but all he could do was agree with you.

When Tech continued to stare at you, you realized maybe you had gone too far and put a damper on an outing that was supposed to be fun. "I'm sorry, Tech. I didn't mean to rain on your parade."

He adjusted his goggles thoughtfully. "I have seen plenty of rain on Kamino," he said understandingly. "You need not apologize. That is an unfortunately correct assessment of civilization. With growth and progress comes conflict and suffering. The two seem to go hand in hand, but I think rather to have faith that intelligence and good intentions have the advantage."

"In that case, it's almost as if sentient life is collectively "defective." You smiled, grateful for his understanding and wisdom. For being a clone maybe a third your age, if that, you can not but admire his calm and collected approach to situations and problems. The only thing he seemed to ever be nervous around is you, but that was understandable because you knew the clone troopers didn't exactly get lessons in romance in the GAR.

Tech merely pushed his goggles up the bridge of his nose with a knowing smile. He was never quite sure how to take your sarcasm, probably because he was self aware of his own and that of his brothers, Crosshair in particular. But the affectionate twinkle in your eyes and gentle flourish of your smile made his heart beat a little faster and the tips of his ears feel a little warmer.

He had not expected to become interested in a female. He was engineered to be a soldier, nothing more. Yet, you made him feel like he was more than that, that he wanted more even. He found himself returning to your shop even though he really did not need to.

And yet he did 'need' to.

Tech found himself smiling back at you. "Indeed. I must apologize. We have been to two floors of exhibits that I wanted to see. Is there something you would like to see?"

"No, Tech. This was all for you."

"I should very much like to learn about what interests you."

"Well, there is an atrium level. Gardens and ruins from other worlds. I remember being taken with the one from Naboo when I was a child." You felt a little weird saying that considering Tech was technically the same age as you were at the time. "You can actually sit there and relax. Or meditate like a Jedi." You shrugged.

"I would very much like that."

After browsing the garden exhibits of Kashyyyk, Chandrila, Selonia, and Old Coruscant, you settled in the Naboo section. A small waterfall splashed down a rock cliff before flowing through a makeshift river that encapsulated the area and then recycled back to the top of the waterfall. Lush green grass spread across one half before melding with a more tree and moss covered rocky area that housed some Gungan head statues. But what really amazed you not only as a child, but as an adult as well, were the guarlara statues that guarded the Naboo area.

Tech studied you as you gazed upon the statues, content to witness your own fixation with something in the museum since you put up with his. "The guarlara, a quadrupedal mammal native to Naboo, having evolved the physical trait of speed on that planet's grassy plains and also a long mane of hair. Used as transportation before the speeder was invented and now only used for official royal business such as coronations."

"Sadly, I don't think I'll ever get a chance to ride one."

"No. They are reserved for royalty," Tech said a little too bluntly. But you knew he didn't mean anything by it and that he for the most part sympathized with you.

"Indeed," you echoed a word he had a habit of saying. "Let's sit over on that fancy stone bench. My feet are a little sore from all of the walking we've done."

"Indeed," Tech said in reply with a grin. He forgot you were probably not used to walking five or ten klicks or more as he was.

You both sat in silence as the sound of the waterfall drowned out the low chatter of the museum. You took extra satisfaction because Tech is sitting right next to you, so close that your arms and legs were touching.

You knew he was a little nervous because he continued to look down at his datapad rather than enjoy the soothing sound of the waterfall, but maybe water just wasn't his thing.

“Hey Ace. What cycle are we heading for next?”

There it was. 'Ace.' One of your pet names for him. He wanted so badly to find one for you as well, but he wanted a special name, not the usual. He knew you liked driving and piloting as he did, but Ace could not work for both of you. He knew you also liked guarlaras, but there were not many equus related monikers that seemed suitable. Guarlara itself did not roll off the tongue very well. Pony was not very romantic. And mare simply sounded unsuitable.

Tech's eyes went from studying his datapad to studying the floor. He was disappointed that he could not find an ideal solution to this very simple quandary.

He now turned to you, studying your delicate features, so content to be in your favorite part of the museum, yet you were so colorful as well, not like anyone he had ever met before. When you turned to him, he took to studying the sparkle in your eyes, that seemed to represent everything he admired about you.

“What is it?” you asked, noticing Tech staring at you strangely.

He took your hand in his. "I was simply thinking about what an extraordinarily colorful woman you are. You remind me of the rainbows on Kamino. They were always so vibrant after a storm. And you are a vibrant beacon after all of the missions we go on. You are like a rainbow to me, albeit in adult human female form."

“Awwww...” You squeeze his hand and place your other hand over your heart. "I think that might be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me."

Tech could not help the large smile that spread across his face. “Then it is settled, Rainbow.”

You could not stifle the huge goofy smile that was spread across your face, beaming with happiness at Tech, whose eyes reflected your contentment. “You know, Ace, I think you might have earned the title of Captain.”

“That is not possible. Hunter is our Sergeant and first in line for that- Oh. You are referring to your speeder. You are going to let me pilot it?” Tech asked with a hopeful tweak of his goggles.

You laughed at him. “Come on, Captain Tech. Let's finish out the rest of the museum, then you can take me for ride.” The sly wink you gave him gave you exactly the fumbling reaction you desired.

Tech pushed his goggles up the bridge of his nose nervously and cleared his throat. “Yes. I shall take you for a ride in your speeder.”

After you were all done at the museum, you took note of Tech's excitement to sit on the pilot side of your speeder while you took the seat he had earlier. Before you knew it, you were speeding away from the museum, up into the sky at a breakneck, but controlled speed, but it didn't matter, you knew he was a skilled pilot, and you trusted him with your life, and your heart.

Tech looked over at you, a huge smile spread across your face as the speeder breezed through the bright, neon signs and beaming lights of the other vehicles in the skylanes and shining through the windows of the skyscrapers. All of the colors of the Coruscant evening did not compare to the lovely colors of you, his own personal Rainbow.

#TBBE24 #tech the bad batch #tech tbb #tech x reader #star wars #the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #aelfwynn on ao3 #fan fiction #reader exchange #aelfwynn / techpopstar on ao3

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spacemagicandlaserswords · 1 year

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Open and Waiting (Chapter 1)

Gif from this post by @ashr-jedi

Summary: You try out something new with Tech. As it turns out, like with pretty much everything, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Relationship: Tech x f!reader (eventual mentions of Hunter x f!reader, Crosshair x f!reader, Echo x f!reader and Wrecker x f!reader)

Warnings: NSFW, cock warming, domination, submission, humiliation, Dominant Tech, submissive reader, cock ring, saliva/drool, restraints, leather wrist cuffs, leather collar, naked and kneeling reader, subspace, tiny hint of poor self worth, star wars swearing, playing fast and loose star wars canon details, not beta read

Word Count: 1604 (Chapter 1)

Authors Notes: Help I’ve written fanfic. This is the first time I’ve ever written fan fiction and the first time I’ve ever written smut so please be gentle. I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing but this idea has latched onto my brain and refuses to let go so here we are. Creative writing is not my strong suit so I hope this is alright.

Also, this is absolute filth. If you think this is saucy then strap in cause you ain't seen nothing yet. Tech says some truly filthy things in Chapter 5. Yes, there are 5 chapters of this monstrosity so far and I’m nowhere even close to the end. I’ve written 7700+ words of this thing. There’s 18 pages so far. What have I done to myself?!

If I’ve screwed something up or forgotten a warning or missed something out, please gently let me know and I will be more than happy to fix it!

Please read the warnings! And please let me know if you liked it and if you’d like to read Chapter 2 or more.

Chapters: Two, Three, Four, Five, Six | Ao3

Open and Waiting (Chapter 1)

The durasteel floor of the Marauder is cold.

Which makes sense. It is metal after all and we’re not exactly on the warmest of planets right now.

What makes it particularly noticeable is that my bare legs are currently kneeling on said cold durasteel. In fact, my entire bare naked body is kneeling on the floor of the Marauder. Wrists cuffed behind my back, my right cheek pillowed against fabric stretched over a lean, muscular thigh and my jaw kept open as Tech’s cock just sits there on my tongue and fills my mouth.

I’m grateful that he chose the softer leather cuffs with the adjustable chain. Saves my shoulders from being constantly wrenched back and the harsh metal of binders biting into my wrists. Tech has always been decidedly considered, thorough and aware of these matters though so it doesn’t surprise me. That man will assiduously research anything and everything, including new kinks to explore. I’m always nervous about broaching these sorts of topics, but at least with Tech I know he will approach the idea with an open, inquisitive mind before launching into discovering everything there is to know about my new suggestion.

When I first bought up the idea of trying cock warming with him, there was a definite flare of interest behind those goggles. It only increased as I did my best to explain the concept while valiantly trying to shove my worries and fears into the nearest storage crate. I know I shouldn’t be ashamed about my sexual interests, and Maker knows they all so gently remind me of this regularly, but old habits are hard to shake. I really shouldn’t have worried though because when Tech came and found me later that night, I’d hadn’t seen him that intensely interested in a new discovery in a while.

Well, not since we found those rare Tarisian bark beetles anyway.

So here I am, completely completely naked, save for a leather collar and cuffs, kneeling in the middle of our ship with Tech’s cock in my mouth. Just kneeling in front of him, completely still, arms restrained behind my back, cheek resting on his inner thigh, eyes closed, jaw slack, tongue touching my bottom lip, drool spilling out the sides of my mouth and dripping obscenely down my chin, and that glorious, firm cock just resting in my mouth, filling it up.

There’s nothing I can do apart from kneel here and drool around Tech’s cock.

Nothing I’m allowed to do either. Sir was very clear that I was to make no movement whatsoever. Not even to swallow. Which is why my mouth and chin are now covered in my own drool and I’m sure I must be making a complete mess of the floor.

At least durasteel is fairly easy to clean up and wipe down. Trying to get stains out of the red leather of the cockpit chairs is another matter entirely.

Tech is sitting on a storage crate while he tinkers with a project on the fold down workbench above me. Those long rangy legs bracketing me in. Close, but not quite close enough to touch the rest of my body, apart from where my cheek rests against his inner thigh.

Damn man knows exactly what he’s doing.

Heavy boots rest on the floor well past where I’m kneeling and serve as another reminder of just how tall and imposing Tech can be. He might not be as overtly muscular as Wrecker or even Hunter but that lean frame belies a beskar imbued strength. At six foot four, Tech absolutely towers over me, even when he’s sitting and I’m kneeling on the floor between his thighs. He’s an all encompassing presence and it’s making something curl deep within my gut.

It’s also making my cunt wet but there’s not much I can do about that right now.

At the end of our pre-session conversation, Tech also gave me strict instructions that I was not to touch myself. While that’s a little hard to do with my hands cuffed behind my back, Tech could’ve bound my hands directly to my cunt and I still wouldn’t have done a damn thing. He knows how desperately I crave praise and will do anything to be his good little girl–

Oh kriff, don’t think about that right now. Don’t think about Tech calling me a good girl. Do not think about it. You’re just going to make your current predicament even worse.

Dank farrik, my pussy is definitely wetter now. It’s going to end up dripping onto the floor and then there will be an even bigger blotch beneath me.

The collection of drool covering the lower half of my face and hanging off my chin has been progressively getting worse the longer this has gone on. The humiliation of being turned into a drooling mess is both delicious and excruciating and my poor hazy brain cannot figure out whether it wants to lean into it or run away. I’ve been stripped down and reduced to nothing but a tight, hot void to keep Tech’s cock warm.

Warm, and hard.

When we started, Tech had certainly been interested but he wasn’t exactly at full mast either. It had been fairly easy for him to slide my open and eager mouth over his cock before gloved hands gently leant my head against his inner thigh. Since then he’s been steadily hardening inside my mouth while he completely ignores me and works on his current project that is strewn in bits across the workbench above. It’s almost like the more I drool, the harder he gets. I can just start to taste the hint of his pre-cum when that clipped, precise voice breaks through the silence above me.

“I require an additional tool and need to momentarily step away in order to retrieve it. This will necessitate briefly moving your position. You will remain kneeling with your eyes closed and mouth open. Am I understood?”

I do my best to answer with a “Yes Sir” around his cock but all it ends up sounding like is a garbled “...eth…er”. Thankfully, this must be enough to appease him because a gloved hand is running through my hair before gently moving my head and then pulling my mouth from his hard cock. I can feel the heaviness of it slide over my tongue and brush my bottom lip as the solid weight leaves my mouth. There’s a moment of bereft emptiness before a collection of drool follows Tech’s cock out of my mouth and spills over my chin in a wave of tantalising humiliation. Tech doesn’t immediately move and I realise he must be observing me.

Observing his naked, collared and restrained submissive kneeling in front of him with their mouth open and drool hanging from their chin.

I must look like a completely and utterly ruined mess.

The thought only serves to cause a further spike in delectable humiliation.

After a laden beat, Tech rises from the storage crate, effortlessly swings a leg over my head and then marches off towards his bunk. The slide of metal dragging against metal can be heard before a soft click signifies that his personal storage box has been unlocked.

Why is he going through there? His tools are usually kept in mystifyingly precise locations around the ship if they’re not already on his person.

A few more clicks indicate that an internal compartment has been opened and whatever he was looking for must have been inside because the lock-box is swiftly snapped shut and shoved back under his bunk.

A marked stride makes its way back to my position of supplication on the floor but Tech doesn’t immediately sit down.

I’m being observed again.

I can’t do anything to stop the reactive shiver that runs through me at the realisation.

There’s an odd, slightly slick sliding noise above me and then Tech is sitting back down on the storage crate. A hand runs over my head as he tells me–

“You will assume your previous position.”

I’m given no chance to respond as he pushes at the back of my head, making my mouth slide over his cock again. My cheek is leant against his inner thigh once more and then I’m left there just as I was moments before, mouth full of Tech’s cock while he goes back to working on his current project.

As I breathe through the returned presence of his cock filling my mouth, I realise that my nose had just barely brushed against something smooth and different.

A cock ring.

So that’s the additional tool he required.

I’m not sure I’d call a cock ring a tool but I’m in no position to argue. Tech must be enjoying this even more than I thought if he’s had to pull one of those out of his collection. I can’t tell which one it is, though if it starts vibrating then at least I’ll know it's one of his later inventions.

I almost startle out of my rumination on Tech’s assortment of toys when long fingers card through my hair and his palm smooths over my head. The tips of those fingers start lightly scritching back and forth against my scalp and I have to stop myself from moaning and going completely boneless against him. It’s soft and gentle and, despite the fact that I’m basically just a glorified cock sleeve for him at this point, it’s oddly calming. Tech continues to tenderly caress my head and I drift, floating in a haze of submission.

Drool continues to drip onto the floor of the Marauder.

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523rdrebel · 9 months

Note

Hello! I'm really enjoying your work! If you're still looking for prompts, could you maybe write something hurt/comfort or whump for Tech x Fem!Reader?

The reader throws herself in front of Tech to save him during a battle and she gets severely injured and Tech has to get her to safety. Maybe he's angry at her for putting her life on the line for him. But he's also secretly terrified of losing her because he has feelings for her!

Hello! Thank you SO SO SO much. The fact that you're enjoying my work means so much to me!

This one kind of turned into more than I had originally expected, so I do hope you enjoy it. It got kind of long...

Title: When Logic Fails

Content Warnings: Mild description of injury, Mention of Medical Trauma

Tech is knelt down, datapad connected to the Separatist Database, focused entirely on the high level data encryption required to complete the data extraction. A few feet away, you stand watch for enemy patrols. According to the mission intel, patrols made their circuit through this section of the base every 13 minutes. Time was getting short, the next patrol would be through any minute. You glanced back at Tech, “How’s it going over there, Tech? Another patrol will be coming through any minute.” You kept your tone even despite the feeling of urgency buzzing in your body.

Tech did not look up from his work, “The data is more heavily encrypted than our intel suggested. The encryption rewrites itself immediately after I’ve broken through, it is quite sophisticated-”

You can't help the slight curl of your lips at him but time was of the essence, “You can appreciate the quality of the encryption later - How long until the download is complete?”

Without hesitation, Tech responds, his tone confident, “7 minutes, provided there are no interruptions.”

“...Better be a quick 7 minutes.” You nod and mumble under your breath, as the sounds of the patrol break through the quiet. You take position off to the side, taking cover at the entrance to the server room you were holed up in. You wait, breathing deeply to center yourself for battle, then take aim, the shots quick and precise taking down the first two droids in swift succession.

The droids react quickly, blaster shots whizzing past you and keeping you on your toes. The alarms begin to blare and red lights flash down the corridor. "Tech! We’ve got reinforcements- We don't have much time!" You shout over your shoulder as two more patrols come into view. You can hear the sounds of more patrols nearing from the corridor’s on either side. You’ll be overrun if you don’t get out of here soon.

The droids are pressing in and you’re forced to move from your position behind to cover Tech as he works. You activate the energy shield on your vambrace, twisting your wrist to extend it’s size and rush to cover Tech’s back. “Tech.” You lean into his name, urgency increasing as you barely catch the blaster bolts with your shield, “It’s time to go now!’ You return fire, rapidly dropping droids as they press into the server room. But as quickly as you take them down, they’re replaced by one- two- three more droids. Where the kriff are they all coming from!?

“I am almost done- just a little longer–” He whips around taking out a droid that had slipped through your defense and gotten too close.

Despite the rapidly growing numbers, you seem to be holding your own, Tech occasionally pausing his work to pick off a few enemies. You toss a pulse grenade and hold your shield up to cover you and tech from the worst of the blaster bolts but you’re getting overrun. “Tech- we’ve got to go now–” You’re cut off by a sharp, burning pain in your side. You look down to see a blaster-burned hole in your armor. “Ah!” you exclaim as the pain doubles and you feel another shot pierce your chest. Suddenly, you’re on the ground, vision blurring at the edges. You hear muffled shouts, but you can’t process the words. “This will have to be sufficient-” Tech’s face appears and your vision blackens further.

You feel yourself being lifted up, pain shooting through your body at the movement. You register blurred movement, muffled sounds of blasters, energy build up, the corridor shakes and lights go dim. Then you are being lowered down onto a flat surface and you hear more muffled voices. Tech’s face enters your vision again, his brow furrowed. When did he remove his helmet? You reach a hand up to his face and mumble, “Hey there, Brown Eyes.” before passing out completely. -

Once they have arrived at the Med Center, Tech worries, despite the positive prognosis from the Medics, and despite the continuously lowering chances of infection or other complications. He continues running calculation after calculation, creating contingency plans of increasingly dubious nature, but cannot seem to stop the sour feeling in his gut that she may never wake up again.

Echo observes Tech’s tense shoulders and uninterrupted focus on his datapad calculations. He looks over Tech’s shoulder at the calculation he’s currently working on,

“I imagine if whatever outcome you're calculating has a 0.0003% chance of happening, then you’re probably working too hard.” When Tech doesn’t respond, he sighs deeply, quirking an eyebrow, “So what is it this time?”

Tech’s eyes don’t move from his datapad, “I am calculating the probability of a negative reaction to the particular strain of Bacta leaves used here causing a bacterial infection in the blood, resulting in cardiovascular failure.” There is a unique edge to his normally straightforward tone.

“Kriff, Tech!” Echo huffs a startled laugh, “You’re worrying over nothing. The Medics said she would be fine, she just needs rest and a few dunks in the Bacta tank. You know that.” He places a hand on Tech’s tensed shoulder.

There is a long silence, Tech looks at you lying prone and unconscious, then his gaze returns to his data pad. He takes a breath to steady himself, “Logically, yes. I do. All of the data points are there and the probability of her worsening or not waking up are infinitesimally low…” He pauses then looks up at Echo.

Hesitation was not something he associated with Tech. “But?” Echo prompts.

Tech removes his goggles and rubs a hand over his face then speaks, “But– while logically I understand that she will recover, that she will wake up…That just… Doesn’t seem to be enough. And I am…afraid.” He looks up and meets Echo’s eyes- pain, confusion, and worry flashing quickly across his face.

“You’re afraid you’ll lose her.” It is not a question.

Tech pauses again, thinking, considering, calculating. “Yes,” He finally admits.

“She’s going to be fine, Tech. Really.”

“I know.” He leans back in his chair, the sounds of the monitoring devices breaking the silence. “But how do I make myself believe it?” His gaze falls once more to you, his brain battling with his whirling emotions. His voice is halting, unsure, “I have always trusted the data before. It has never been wrong, incomplete perhaps, but never wrong. I do not understand what is different now…”

Echo watches his brother struggling to put the pieces together and decides to attempt a logical approach, “Maybe you need to think of her as her own data point. She is the differing factor here, not your calculations or medical reports.” He waits, considering his next words carefully, “– You just have to trust her.” Tech shakes his head, confused. “You have to trust that she’s strong enough to come back to you.”

That triggers something and Tech’s face scrunches in anger, “It is my fault that she’s injured– She nearly died, Echo.”

“You didn’t shoot her, Tech. They had modified blasters - armor piercing rounds–”

“She told me we were out of time - but I insisted that we complete the mission!” Tech’s hands were gripped into white-knuckled fists.

Echo held up his hands attempting to soothe his distressed brother, “You are not to blame, Tech. This is war. These things happen. And she is lucky you were there to make sure she made it home.” Tech didn’t respond and the silence stretched on. Echo smirked, a hint of affectionate teasing in his eyes, “So–When she wakes up, don’t waste your chance to tell her how you feel.”

“I do not think–” Echo cuts him off and fixes him with a knowing look, then rolls his eyes and exits the room, leaving Tech to consider their conversation.

You wake in a panic and try to get up out of the bed, the monitors and cords tangle and you nearly fall over. Strong hands grasp your waist, steadying you and bringing your mind into focus. “Hey-hey-listen– It’s okay. It’s me! You’re safe!” The hands help you back onto the bed and you look up to see Tech’s face.

Your memory comes back in broken bits, you can’t seem to recall how you got here. “Tech? Wha–What’s going on? Where am I? What happened?”

He gently pushes you back down on the bed, speaking in an even, soft tone, “Deep breaths, please.” You comply, breathing deeply in and out a few times to reduce your elevated heart rate. Once he is satisfied you have calmed down, he nods and continues, “You are alright. We’re at a Republic MedCenter. You were injured – badly, during our last mission.”

Your memories come rushing back - the mission, the data extraction, the droids, and pain and then nothing. “Kriff– How badly? How long have I been here?”

He takes the chair beside the bed and pulls it closer, “Six days, but you are recovering quite nicely–”

“Six days!?” Your eyes dart around the room frantically, it’s bright white and sterile, making you want to shrink into yourself.

Tech moves slowly, observing your widened eyes and the spike in your heart rate from the beeping of the monitors. Tech places a hand over yours, his voice taking on a rare softness, “Yes. But, as I was saying, you are recovering nicely, the Doctors have said you will make a full recovery.”

You exhale, releasing a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You rub a hand over your face, trying to cover wince, “Did we at least get the data?”

He reaches up and adjusts his goggles, “Ah– Not entirely. We were getting overrun and you would not have survived if we delayed evac.” He pauses, observing your face to gauge your reaction, “But do not worry, the data that was retrieved was sufficient. Our mission was still a success.”

You offer him a weak smile, “Well, I guess I didn’t completely kriff it up then…”

Tech shakes his head, “You are not the first to get injured on a mission and I can assure you you will not be the last.”

You nod, but cannot deny the twist of guilt in your chest. The following silence leaves you feeling antsy, “So, how much longer do I have to stay here?”

He tilts his head, considering, “I am uncertain. But I suspect another four days at least. With bacta treatments, that should be sufficient…”

“Four days– I can’t– Tech, I can’t stay here for four days!”

“Do not worry. I can provide mental exercises to occupy your time.”

Despite yourself, his comment brings out a light laugh, “No– That’s not– I’m not worried about being bored,”

“I see…” You can see the wheels turning in his brain as he processes the information, “Then what is the issue?”

You close your eyes and lean your head back on the pillow, “I just– I hate Med Centers…okay?”

Tech squeezes your hand lightly, “You are afraid.”

“Yes. I–” You breathe in sharply, “I don’t know why exactly. I just have flashes of memories… Images of Doctors with terrifying smiles. Voices, sickly sweet telling me to ‘Be a good girl,’ and then other voices, angry or disappointed–” your vocal inflection goes up as if in question, “I remember pain. Bright, blinding lights. The smell of medical grade antiseptic. Rhythmic beeping of monitors.” You huff out an ironic laugh, “That’s all I remember.”

“Hmm. This would explain your reaction upon waking up… It is quite natural for a person’s brain to react in such a way, as a means of protection from further harm and trauma,--”

“That’s why I can’t stay here, Tech.”

He offers you a small smile, “Unfortunately, you cannot leave. This facility is the only one nearby with the necessary equipment to facilitate your recovery.” You groan in frustration. After a brief moment, Tech asks, “Would it help if I stayed –with you?” His cheeks are slightly flushed and his next words come out in a rush, “I find it is useful to have another person nearby as a means of distraction when seeking to avoid certain thought patterns…”

You regard Tech’s earnest expression and feel a comforting warmth growing in your chest. You smirk and respond with a teasing lilt to your voice, “Distractions such as ‘mental exercises’?”

His face brightens and he reaches for his datapad,“Ah! Yes. I have quite a variety available actually–”

“Okay, Tech.” You smile, trying to hold back the tears welling in your eyes.

He considers your face and body language, “Yes… You are sure?”

You lean forward, ignoring the sharp pain in your side, to look him in the eyes, “I want you to stay with me… Please.”

You watch as his face processes your request and finally softens, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly, “Y–yes, of course.”

“Thank you.” You whisper softly, suddenly exhausted from the emotional journey as well as your physical injuries.

Tech motions for you to lie back once again, “It is nothing. Now rest. We can complete the mental exercises later. I have one, in particular, that I believe you will find quite stimulating.” You laugh and comply, feeling some comfort knowing that he will be there when you wake.

#Tech has Mental Excercises #rebelwrites #Tech x Reader #tbb tech #hurt/comfort #the bad batch #tbb #star wars fan fiction #fanfic #prompt response

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techhasmjolnir · 3 months

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Writings Master List

This will be the place where you can easily find all of my writings. Stories will be listed in the chronological order they were written.

If you like my content, please feel free to drop me some love, and reblog!

**If you would like to be tagged for future writings, please don't hesitate to ask!

The Bad Batch - Trivial Pursuit (Tech x F Reader)

The Bad Batch - Rites of the Covenant (Hunter x F Reader)

The Bad Batch - Dealer's Choice (The Boys x F Reader)

The Bad Batch - Give Me Three, the Gift of One (Crosshair & Tech x F Reader) (WIP)

#star wars #clone force 99 #the bad batch #the bad batch smut #smut #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb hunter #fan fiction #one shots #master list

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greenlyren12 · 1 year

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Repairs - Crosshair x GN!Reader

word count: 2.2k

Summary: Set after Crosshair's rescue from the platform, reader is on a mission to help him heal.

A/N:

Hello, my plan for this is to be a 2 parter, so expect an update soon. My whole idea for this fic was to give crossy a friend and some comfort, we all need it after that episode. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated, have a nice day/night :)

The Empire had clasped its ugly claws around your planet years ago. Your parents had witnessed it all, in the start – the Separatists and now Palpatine’s dictatorship. Being born into it, you knew nothing of the outside worlds. Dreaming seemed unallowed for you. All labor done on the planet was for feeding the fat bellies of imperials and fueling their death ships.

Choice was never an option, nor was peace, but it went down to two paths for everyone – arduous physical work or the medical field. Everyone from janitors to high ranking pilots was worked to death and by decision, it was your job to fix them up.

Working in rehabilitation was dispiriting, some of the sights you were a witness to, you’d never stop having nightmares about. It was plain and simple, everyone was a cog in their machine, therefore expandable. Taking care of all kinds of people helped you make peace with yourself a little. You had seen it all, from twi’leks with missing parts of their lekkus to humans who could not do anything by themselves anymore.

That was your everyday, drowning in patients in the hopes of achieving something good.

***

Today was nothing unusual, though you had a new patient coming. Sitting in a chair in front of the door, you waited for his arrival. With crossed legs and a perplexed look on your face, you read his records on your datapad. One finger tapping the metal handle of the chair, to say you were interested would be an understatement.

It was heartbreaking,

All empire documentation was devoid of any kind of emotion, so you had a knack for sensing the real situation. Usually, all clone cases made your heart twist in pain, but this in particular was tragic. The creation of the bred for war only soldiers was deplorable.

As you were reading about his brothers’ desertion, a dark figure entered. Looking up with heavy eyelids from the lack of sleep, your gaze met his. Your first thought was that he was beautiful, all clones were, but he was different. The man in front of you was lithe and tall, but there was something twisted inside of him. As if the air around him sizzled with tension. His shoulders fell heavy, though his copper eyes contrasted his gloomy nature. A dark gash painted the right side of his head and bellow, on his eye laid a crosshair tattoo.

He looked different from the kept records photos, his silver locks were missing and he looked sadder, if it were more possible.

Not wanting to keep him at the entrance, you stood up, carefully approaching him. The clone seemed perpetually on edge, so taking very careful steps, as if to not disturb him, you stood in front of him.

“Good morning, sir.” You happily chimed.

The man eyed you, head to toe, with a very angry look. The scowl he apparently always wore deepened and he said nothing. Awkward silence was let to drown the room. You gave him an unamused look, that was rude for no reason.

“Follow me.” Annoyance laced in your tone, you avoided his eye.

You led him to the countertop where you kept your track records, physical evaluations were always first. The work assigned to you would not be a lot, reading of what he went through on that platform, the mental rehabilitation would be a lot more taxing.

He moved like a feline, but also very rigid. Every move the clone made was deliberate and thought through, a soldier's preciseness always put you on edge.

“Put your arms up please.” You requested, as if you were the one being evaluated, his stare burned holes in your body.

The man in front of you put his arms up and looked dead in front, unmoving like a statue, like he was scared to show he was breathing.

Always keeping a check on his face, scared of seeing it contort with anger again, you carefully started examining his left hand.

“Do you sleep well, CT-9904?”

You hated referring to them by their numbers, but this was protocol and the clone had already stated his dislike of being here.

“Do you?” He said with all of the offense he could muster, eyebrows knitting, mouth turning downside.

Getting caught off guard by his insolence you stopped checking his arm and looked at him questioningly. The nerve of this guy. The answer to your question laid under his eyes, it was clear.

Who would be able to sleep after being left for dead?

You had seen enough faces to know, he was tormented. After all, this was standard procedure and making conversation made the patients feel better, apparently not this one.

Switching to his right arm and keeping your composure you asked him nicely.

“What is your name?” Offering him a sweet smile.

For the first time you saw a different emotion from anger on his face. Surprisement was clear on his features for a good second, then he put the mask back on. If he had to be frank with himself, no one had acknowledged his existence in so long, let alone ask him for his name.

“Crosshair.” The sniper, apparently, said with mouth forming a tight line, gazing curiously at you now.

Looking at his right eye you snorted.

“Bright one, aren’t you.” You said while shaking your head and then you felt a fracture on his palm.

The pressure should’ve made him flinch or at least wince but he was cold as a stone.

“You’re not on the battlefield anymore, I’m here to help you.” You said sadly while holding his index finger, searching for something in his eyes.

“I don’t need your help.” Crosshair venomously bit, never breaking eye contact.

You started to understand the game he was playing, and two could play that game.

“Your officer seems to think differently.”

“Look, there is clearly something wrong with your palm,” You said while writing down his injuries on your datapad.

“I know it hurts, I’m not going to twist it if you show any kind of emotion, if you don’t keep testing me that’s it.” You looked at him with a smile.

“Noted.” Crosshair said with the slightest tint of amusement.

Feeling proud of getting the littlest smile off him, you placed your datapad on the counter next to you.

“I have a proposition.” You requested after eyeing him carefully.

Crosshair grunted a hm and let you finish, while crossing his arms in front of him, cocking his hip. He was very alluring, if you forgot his off-putting demeanor.

“My schedule for today is to get you moving your body, but you seem very off on me helping you and If I don’t do my job, I will get in trouble. So why don’t you follow my lead and I’ll just watch from here, marksman?

Crosshair weighed his options, thinking, he decided this was the best course.

“Okay.” The sniper grumbled.

You sat on a chair next to the counter, putting your head on your palm and intently observing him, even if he was a pain in the ass, his presence was a breath of fresh air.

You spent the next 30 minutes explaining exercises to him and, surprisingly, he followed every instruction.

Crosshair was stretching his shoulders now.

“Can I ask anything about your life?” You playfully asked him, already knowing the answer, cocking your head to the side waiting for an answer.

“No.” The clone almost cut you mid sentences as he bent down to his toes.

“When did you get the injury on your head?”

Crosshair shot you such a ferocious look you almost fell down your chair. Putting your hands in one another for some type of comfort you shot him a sorry look.

“I’m sorry for what happened.” You truthfully said to the dejected clone.

“I don’t need your pity.” He didn’t look you in the eye now.

“But I do pity you, and you do need someone’s pity, what happened to you was awful. I’m sure you did not deserve it, I’m sorry.” It was your job to comfort people but this was genuine.

For all of Crosshair’s silence, he was very easy to read. You think he understood you, and he graced you with a hm.

“Are you eating well?” You tried to lighten the mood.

“Have you seen the food in the mess?” Crosshair rhetorically asked you.

“Fair point, I can bring you something from home next time.”

***

Crosshair remained in your care for the next 3 months. You reread his file multiple times. Truthfully, you teared up while reading it the last time, you were sure he had no friends now. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself but you anticipated his visits and he was showing progress. He somehow became nice company, letting his guard down, he always knew what to say.

It was just a speculation on your part but he really did have no one. Crosshair was out of commission and he was useless to the Empire, he missed his brothers now more than ever. Everyday was the same lonely pit and he could not bear it anymore. After the second week he couldn’t sleep anymore, night terrors. Everyone avoided him, except for you. You seemed to have an interest in him for a reason he could not fathom, and you genuinely enjoyed spending time with him. So he frequented your office as much as he could, it wasn’t like he had anything else to do.

Over time he let you touch him, he felt like a boy again but it was beyond him, he was so alone.

“Can you show me how to do this?” Crosshair almost seductively requested.

He took you by surprise, he knew the exercise by heart, he wanted you to touch him. Over time you practiced manners together, if he wanted to be a functioning member of society he had to let the attitude go. That, of course, never happened, but he became softer and nicer. He started saying please and thank you, little did you know he only did it for you. He loved your gratification and you loved praising him, only you deserved that side of him in his eyes.

“Manners, sniper.” You joyfully said while approaching him.

“Please.” He genuinely asked.

“Are you finally going to let me do my job?”

“Happy, doc?” He smiled at you, a rare sight.

A totally professional setting could not be more intimate, Crosshair was extremely closed off and he let you inside his space, to guide him. You closed the space between each other and gingerly guided his arm up while pressing a palm on the small of his back. You felt every breath he took, slow and careful but his heart was pounding. His clear anxiousness got you nervous as well and you stumbled on his foot. Completely towering over you, he helped you regain your footing.

“You getting nervous?” He said with a devilish smile.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Cross.” You replied while putting a distance between the two of you.

“I know a liar when I see one, cyare.”

He started calling you that about two weeks ago. You had no idea what the nickname meant and he refused to grace you with an explanation, so you figured the worst.

“Don’t get on my bad side, lanky.” You teased him while going for your papers.

***

You dreaded today, it was Crosshair’s last appointed visit. Which meant he would not need you anymore, he wouldn’t be obliged to visit. It made something inside you twist in agony, you’d miss him. He would be assigned missions again and he would be busy.

He could die.

You swatted that thought out of your mind and entered the rehabilitation room. A little bit after that he entered as well. Both of you were clearly feeling down. You sat expectantly on your chair and waited for him to start his warm up but he stilled.

Offering you a palm Crosshair spoke to you.

“Want to do this together?” For the first time he was unsure of himself in front of you, but he craved you and your touch.

Your gaze widened and you smiled.

“I would love to.”

You spent the entire session glued to each other, helping him and guiding him. Being a part of his healing process, you joked around together and he graced you with a quiet laugh for the first time. You were truly happy for a while.

He was still the same bruised clone that entered your room 3 months ago but something had shifted in him. A different kind of glint sparkled in his brown eyes now. It made your heart ache, you didn’t want to lose him.

Being done with everything you let go of him but remained close, looking in his eyes you just stayed. Crosshair closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to your own, your breath hitched and you melted by his innocent touch. You caressed his bad arm and just stayed like this for a while. Pulling back, you gave him the sweetest smile you could, no words were exchanged and none were needed to.

You said your goodbyes.

“If anything hurts again, you come to me, you hear me, do not suffer in silence.”

He gave you a melancholic look and turned around to leave. Stalling on the entrance he looked back at you.

“I got burned after my brothers deserted.” Crosshair finally answered your question and left out the door.

#crosshair tbb #tbb crosshair #crosshair bad batch #crosshair x reader #crosshair #crosshair x you #bad batch crosshair #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch season 2 #tbb #star wars fan fiction #star wars

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skellymom · 2 months

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UNTITLED FIC SMUT SNIPPET

CROSSHAIR x READER NON GENDER

YES! I'm teasing you!!! Especially @haybellewrites

Warning: Slight smutty McSmutterson action. Nothing too graphic, but definite Crosshair smut! NO MINORS!

Word Count: 185

THE EDIBLE TOLD ME TO DO EEET!!!

The grief was too much for you both.

Lying in bed at night...the uncertainty and rising arousal making sleep elusive. Two people alone in the vastness of space, on a dark, silent ship. The distance between you palpable.

“Are...you awake?” he furtively asked with hushed tones in the dark.

“Umhmm.” Intrigued as to why he asked.

Silence.

You lay there in the dark waiting for an answer.

More silence...

...then Crosshairs hand gently smoothing away the hair from your temple.

You immediately embrace him tightly.

He falters for just a beat. Body frozen for what seems like an eternity. Would this scare him away?

Then you feel his arms encircle you, lips upon your cheek...kissing down to your lips.

Unable to hold back any further, you turn your head to meet his lips to yours.

Mouths opening to breathe into the well of one another. Sliding upon each other passionately. Breaths furiously taken in between long heated kisses.

Then parting quickly to pull the clothing from each other's body. Almost ripping the cloth away from bare skin. Occasional moans of longing for skin-to-skin contact....

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

@genericficerblog @thecoffeelorian @crosshairs-right-nut @fionajames @arctrooper69 @littlefeatherr @askyourfox @freesia-writes @spacemagicandlaserswords @marymunchkiin @loveinglymessedup @sverdgeir @dreamingthroughlifetonight @idoubleswearimawriter @iz-cause @itsyellow @lokigirlszendaya

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neyswxrld · 5 months

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playing sloth

Mayday x reader (gn)

summary: Outdoor pools with Mayday!

warnings: making out in a public pool, a little spicy, 18+

word count: ~630

advent calendar masterlist

a/n: this is the second fic for my advent calendar! i tried something different here and now i really want a hot bath with mayday

p.s. english isn't my mother tongue, sorry for misspellings!

You close your hand around Mayday's and slowly walk down the stairs into the pool.

As soon as your feet hit the warm water, you let out an excited breath before going in deeper, pulling him with you.

When you're deep enough, you let yourself fall a bit, enjoying the warmth around your whole body, and sigh, relaxed.

"Well, it really is warm," he notices, following you willingly.

"You thought I would lie?" you ask him, a playful smile on your lips.

He shakes his head with a soft look in his eyes. "Of course not."

Together, you make your way through the plastic curtain that connects the small pool entry with its main part outside.

As your face hits the cold air outside, you immediately shiver a bit, enjoying the warmth of the pool a little bit more.

The sharp contrast between the hot water and the winter air causes a foggy sight, making everything look magical and steamy.

The water is almost deserted, and only another couple your age enjoys each other's company in a corner opposite the entry.

Smiling, you turn around and let Mayday pull you to his chest.

"You can't say this wasn't a great idea," you say, appreciating his naked skin against yours.

"Didn't say anything else," he grins, coming a little bit closer again.

You put your arms around his neck, curling your fingers around his wet hair at his neck, while placing your legs around his hips.

"Already playing backpack, I see," he murmurs, but smiles. Carefully, Mayday puts his arms around your back too and situates himself somewhere against a wall so he can sit comfortably while you're sitting on his lap.

"Hmmm... I think it's more like playing sloth," you say, shaking your head and grinning at him.

Mayday looks at you with a raised eyebrow. "The mommas carry their babies on their tummies, not on their backs," you explain.

"So, I'm a momma now?" he asks, his eyebrow almost touching his hairline.

"No... But I'm your baby!" you say, almost excited, making him laugh quietly.

"Mh, yeah, sometimes you are just like a giant baby," he agrees, chuckling.

"Hey!" you protest, laying your hands on his cheek now.

"You can't say I'm wrong. Sitting on my lap like that. Like you can't find your own stool," he mocks you with playfully raised eyebrows.

"Fine, then I'll go and find my own chair," you start to pout, trying to push him away from you without much strength.

Mayday laughs, tightens his grip and holds you close to him.

"That was a joke, baby," he says, accentuating the last word.

You try to fight the smile that forms on your lips but fail miserably. "I know, silly," you grin, leaning forward at the same time, placing a sweet kiss on his wet lips.

The familiar tickle of his beard on your face makes you sigh as he deepens the kiss.

Closing your eyes, you pull yourself closer to him, enjoying the warmth of his body and the water, feeling refreshed by the cold air around you.

You share sweet kisses, smell each other's scents, and smile as soon as your tongues touch.

Mayday's hands wander around your body and pull quiet sighs from your lips, but they never go too far. You're in a public pool, after all.

You could have been sitting like that for the whole day, but Mayday decides otherwise.

You don't know if you're disappointed or shocked when you suddenly feel him moving forward and pushing you under the water with his whole body.

Coughing, you emerge again and look at him disapprovingly, trying to get the water out of your nose. "What was that for?"

"Thought we should take a break," he tells you, getting a little bit red around his nose.

TAGLIST:

@isthereanechoinhere96

#the bad batch #commander mayday #tbb mayday #star wars fan fiction #the bad batch fanfiction #mayday x reader #commander mayday x reader #hot pool #public pool #all i want for christmas advent calendar #star wars advent calendar #tbb advent calendar

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talesfrommedinastation · 6 months

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Prax and Tech

Prax: "On top of it all, this amazing scientist-soldier-prince’s name? Tech. What kind of name is that, anyway? Tech, or Teki, as we’d call him in Lang Belta? She must think we are so dumb!"

Tech:.........ERROR 404 PAGE NOT FOUND.

@autistic-artistech asked, and Your Humble Servant delivered!

This conversation between one of the most brilliant scientists of the Belt, and one of the most brilliant clones in the galaxy, happens here in Far Past the Ring!

Once again, I'm indebted to @supremechancellorrex, who gave me some very good insight on how a conversation between these two bright folks would go. It ended up much more pleasant and smooth, even though, for all intents and purposes, it should have been awkward AF.

@sued134 @thecoffeelorian @isthereanechoinhere96 @eyecandyeoz and anyone else who's been enjoying the story!

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frostycatblr-fandom-files · 1 year

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Sorry, Wrong Comms! : Hunter x Medic!Reader [Chapter 1]

Much more recently written fanfic I started to distract myself from the "mild" trauma of Season 2 finale based on ideas that wouldn't work for "Rough Stuff". This fic is absolutely RIFE with my personal headcanons. Clones deserved so much better, and I will be a giant mess when I get to Pong Krell in TWC as I have since started rewatching it.

Warnings & Information: Intended audience is 13+, 18 if you squint. Hurt+comfort material primarily; there is still a fair amount of angst, fluff, and all the good stuff. Reader has she/her pronouns. We really like italics in this house. Peep this for funsies for why I decide to use Mando'a. By no means comprehensive, in no particular order there will be: Mild injury description + care, blood, vague medical terminology (read as: pretending to understand medical stuff), use of restraints, needles (autoinjectors), near-death(s), nausea and non-descriptive mentions of vomit, Star Wars swearing, drugs (both medical and recreational references), minor adult themes + implications, avoidant behaviors, trickery and light mean teasing in the forms of siblings and crushes.

Series-inaccurate allusions to Crosshair never leaving Bad Batch post Order 66 execution [because while this is an AU fic, I am also very much an Avoidant Mess™], Batchers never meet Cid, fair chance of misremembering any referenced events from TCW series. Series accurate allusions and references to canon violence (AKA: literal war crimes, weapon injuries, etcetera).

Word-count: 4,637

She couldn't remember the last time she had a really, really bad day outside of her medical clinic. There was a tip-off that an abandoned medical center on a neighboring mining planet within the system had supplies too tantalizing to ignore. Valuable paraphernalia that was being phased out by this emerging Empire, ripe for the taking. Did the mining company really have to build this settlement on the steepest face of the mountain? No, they probably didn't realize how unstable, unsafe and ultimately unsuitable this location was while they riddled the inside of the mountain with tunnels as they harvested precious ore and minerals. This was a boomtown and it had completed two of the three strikes typical of such: strike it rich, strike it fast, strike it down. The people living and working here had to abandon it in a hurry before they demoed the place. This mining company hadn't done their proper research and now the shells of their temporary structures were all that remained.

But a scrappy little scavenger had found the medical center was still fairly flush with supplies and let the first medic who was willing to help them with their injuries know about the score. 'It'll be dangerous. If you're going, tell a friend so they know to come looking for you if you don't get back after a certain time. But these items are pre-Empire, they aren't making them like that anymore, so you'll want these. Trust me. I think you'll find them worth the risk of a rock slide or two.'

It. Was. Not. Not really, anyways.

She was just glad to be home now. Put the day behind her. No more rock slides. No more rusted shells of buildings that made for excellent deathtraps. No more falling halfway down the mountain she climbed up in the descent to her ship in the foothills and losing almost every last med supply she came with after slipping on a patch of loose, fine-grain sand just after navigating the maze of the medical center. She had to hobble down the rest of the mountain with nothing to clean out the open wounds and prayed to everything and anything that she didn't contract something that had leached into the rock as the by-products of mining and refinery. She had to stumble into her ship and send a message to her back-up at home that she was 'hurt pretty kriffing bad' but alive and would be back planet-side after dinner; don't wait up for me, I'm too damn tired to swing by after all. Tell the others I'm sorry.

Her instructors in med school would be having a conniption if they saw the way she had tended her wounds so lazily and would never let her hear the end of it for the juvenile, sloppy attempt to bandage the laceration on her dominant arm, but she was too tired to care. (But if she ever saw that scavenger again, she'd kill them for failing to mention several things. The collapsing roof in the west stock room, for starters.) She'd deal with it all properly in the morning. She just wanted to sleep after sucking down two tubes of nutrient paste and a mixed handful of painkillers and antibiotics to ward away pain and infection.

She picked up her datapad one last time and hissed a deliberate dictation into the mic after tugging the knot to the wrapping one last time for good measure. "I'll deal with that bantha fodder in the morning… Home safe. Going to bed. Goodnight."

She'd accidentally sent it to the wider group beyond the singular contact when five messages popped up in short succession.

Glad you're home safe. Sleep well, kid.

likewise

GOODNIGHT!:)

Yes, goodnight.

We'll see you in the morning, burc'ya.

Hopefully she'd feel well-rested with the sunrise. Crawling into her bed, she dropped heavily on her side and clutched a well worn Tooka doll in her favorite colors named after her very first childhood pet to her chest as she drew the covers up over her shoulders. Maker, she was so tired. It wouldn't take long before sleep came for her, feeling the first beckoning pulls on her eyelids after just a few moments.

Her comms gave a harsh screech, jolting her awake in her bed. Just when she had drifted off… This better be important. An actual karking emergency. Someone who had her personal frequency had better be dying if they were contacting her. "What."

There was a lot of shuffling and keypad beeping on the other end of the comms channel, but no one spoke right away. Just when she was about to either call out a hello? or simply disconnect her comlink, she heard someone speak up. Clone Sergeant Hunter. "Tech is this really necessary to keep the-"

"If we want an accurate oral temperature, yes."

There was a groan over the channel, then the sharp rustle as the comms got bumped or adjusted in Hunter's hand. "Well the longer I have it in my mouth the closer I feel to gaggin-"

She shot upright in her bunk, slightly grossed out and confused all at once. "What the kriff are you-!?"

The two Clones on the other end of the comlink gave their own startled shouts, realizing they had a disembodied voice suddenly joining their company. "[____]! How-?"

She was quick to cut Tech off, pulling the comlink closer to her face to amplify her furious tone of voice. "Did one of you seriously call me - in the middle of a medical check - when I'm trying to sleep!"

"Sorry, [____]." Hunter mumbled shamefully. "Must have switched on my comlink by mistake… Didn't mean to disturb you when I know you've had a hard day." What an understatement, Hunter. The impulsive venom in her mouth was hard to hold back, encouraged by her frustrations and discomforts bubbling over. "Hard day made harder thanks to you." She regretted it in a heartbeat. Thank the Maker the enhanced Clone wasn't in the room with her; he'd probably have been able to hear the way it skipped a beat if he was able to sense the beginnings of seismic activity, smell the way she felt her body begin to shiver in a forming, cold stress-sweat as the shame of her anger washed over her.

"You're right: let me make it up to you."

She was told to come over to the Batch's housing. Crosshair opened the blastdoor for her before she even had a chance to knock to avoid waking anyone sleeping if she used the buzzer. "He'll be in the main area."

"What, no "Hello, taking care of yourself like I told you to?" tonight, Cross? Even as a joke, after the day I've been having, to lighten the mood?"

There was a half-hearted scoff (or maybe that was a soft laugh) from the Clone at this."That's more Wrecker's thing," Cross drawled in a casual voice around a toothpick, sidestepping to let her squeeze inside, "and I'm not really interested in pretending I can't see that you are not taking care of yourself."

"No, of course not Mr. Sharp-eyed, Snarky Sniper. 'Cause I fall down the mountains of abandoned mining settlements for kriffing fun."

If Cross was phased by the uncharacteristic anger of the medic tonight, he didn't really show it. Just a little twitching pull of his upper lip on one side and half-lidded eyes that betrayed a bit of amusement and disappointment. "Mmp. C'mon, kid. I'll see if I can't find a half-decent ration bar somewhere around here for you."

"Not hungry, Cr-"

"Don't care." He interrupted in a brusque tone, not giving her the opportunity for excuses. Crosshair was the kinda guy who didn't like excuses, either in giving or getting, and could be quick to shut that kriff down. It was refreshing sometimes, but tonight it was just another mild annoyance of [____]'s day.

Whatever. She was going to go find Hunter where Cross said he'd be rather than waiting around in the entryway forever. "Skipping meals again, are we burc'ya?" As a medic, she often missed out on a meal or two while she was aiding the galaxy's sick and injured, and the unintentional habit carried over when she wasn't at the clinic. Something that made her friends fret over her like this. "For once I had all three meals. Only thing I swear went right today…" There was a pause as the medic heard a comment from the small kitchen on the left from the common room and she added with a gentle sigh, "aside from not breaking any bones during that nasty fall, too I guess."

Hunter looked relieved and genuinely proud of her, sincerely surprised she wasn't tired and hungry like many nights in the past. Crosshair just turned on his heel back into the kitchen unit without breaking his stride, after a little shuffling around in the cabinets [____] could hear the sink running. "Well that's… good! Proud of you, kid."

"...Than-"

Cross set the glass of water he'd filled for her in lieu of the ration bar down on a low table in the common room in the middle of the light conversation she was having with Hunter. "Here. I'll leave you two to it. Goodnight."

"U-um, thanks, Cross. Goodnight…" Cross nodded nonchalantly at her, next turning to his brother, who was quick to avoid his eyes before Crosshair just turned and left the two of them. Leave you two to it, what did he mean by that that had Hunter looking so nervous with a wave of color creeping up his neck from under the collar of a fresh nightshirt? "What's going on, Hunter? Do I need to be worried about something? Something show up on the health check? Do you need some nysillin tea or- s-something?"

Hunter shook his head, a tender, reassuring (and touched) smile slowly building. You could take the doctor out of the clinic, but you couldn't stop her from thinking about her job. "Nothing's wrong, k'uur... Just thought I was feeling a little under the weather, but I'm perfectly fine. It's nothing more than just making it up to you after waking you. Plus, for once, you won't have to patch your own wounds. Why not have someone take care of you the same way you take care of others?" It was the same thing he'd said to her at the end of their first of many interactions in this seedy little travel-hub. The time she'd undoubtedly saved Crosshair's life after he'd picked up a nasty little parasite while slogging through the swamps of some distant planet. Kashyyyk? It was probably Kashyyyk.

[____] was in a sour arrangement then with some smugglers with hair-trigger tempers to come and go as they pleased with her small clinic, and these Clones had been kind to remove the problem clientele "with discretion" as a way of paying her back. She'd saved their "stubborn vod". They saved her and now trusted her to treat their injuries no matter the cause, turning up at odd hours for the oddest of injury or malady. Complete faith in her in a hostile galaxy who now wanted… whatever it is they wanted with these Clones. She didn't ask. She didn't want to know.

She'd heard the stories from those who fled the war encroaching nearly every part of the galaxy. She'd heard of the war crimes, seen the horror and gore and bloodshed step into at least two of the medical centers she once worked in… known of an Order 66 and what became of much, if not all, of the Jedi… She didn't want to know. They often didn't want to tell, beyond giving vague recollections when they were making arrangements for short-term prescriptions for sleeping supplements with the medic when the nightmares were overwhelming.

Much like scouting the abandoned medical facility in an old mining boomtown for various 'sillin supplies, life seldom goes the way you wish.

"C'mere, ad'ika. Let's get you patched up." He patted the space beside him on the couch in invitation, pulling a medkit closer with the other hand all while looking at her with the same softness he often reserved for his sister. When [____] first met him, she could have sworn Omega was his daughter. "Unless you're not okay with that." Hunter added, addressing her hesitation he could hear in the rhythm of her pulse, her heart.

"I'm fine with it… just really tired and brain's kinda closing shop for the night. Sorry." Taking the seat indicated, [____] sunk back into the furniture, sighing. She didn't want to bring up why she was hesitating on him. He carried enough guilt as a participant in the old GAR… Hunter broke the seal on the new packet of medical tools, prepping everything he thought he'd need. "Don't be, ad'ika. Now, have you taken something for the pain already?"

"Rhetorical question for a medic, don't you think?" The tired, teasing question was met with a single chuckle. He knew she would have, he was just making small talk. "Anything else? Ask me if I'm taking any other kind of stim packs, or maybe I should lie about eating all my recommended fruits and vegetables?" It was a laugh from Hunter this time, deep and hearty and genuine from his chest.

"Are you?" Picking up a pre-moistened cleaning wipe from the little packet within the medkit, Hunter removed the sloppy wrappings around her dominant arm that [____] had applied before trying to call it a day and properly deal with everything in the morning. Dried smears of red lay underneath the gauze, something that made Hunter's gut drop slightly. Either she had done an uncharacteristically poor job cleaning her injuries, or these were more intensive than believed and they were slow-bleeders that hadn't scabbed over completely.

"Tck…Can't say I'm any better than most of my patients, if I'm honest." Hunter hummed slightly, gingerly blotting along the length of the mild laceration. It had to have been an unpleasant injury after losing all her emergency supplies and nothing to ease it right away until she stumbled back to her ship. It looked fairly deep to him, but couldn't be certain. "Mmh! That stings."

"'It's supposed to, little guy. Means it's working.' I swear Cross could have killed you with a look if the parasite wasn't actively killing him over being called a little guy like he was a kid."

"Ha-ha. Very funny, Tech." [____] half-heartedly mocked Hunter's sharp recollection of their first encounter, trying to stifle a coming yawn. That time felt so long ago now; longer than it actually was. "I was only trying to keep him calm and comfortable. I see a lot of children at my clinic so it's a habit I've de-developed… excuse me, sorry about that. People… don't exactly love doctors."

Hunter paused mid-blot, giving her a firm look to show her he was serious. Something in Hunter didn't like the way she'd said it, it didn't sit right with him. "Nonsense, cyar'ika. People love doctors; they just don't love going to them. Big difference. Trust me." Trust me like I trust you he wanted to say. He wouldn't. He believed it was mutually understood, no need for explicitly stating so (partly an old habit in thanks to how he communicated with many a vod during the war). "People…" Hunter tried further explaining, leaving out the "like us" he again believed didn't need to be said "...might be embarrassed, or fearful, or worried about going to the medic, but they understand they need to go because the medics will be able to make them better. They don't hate the doctor; they hate the doctor's office…" Hunter paused, digesting his own words with a questioning expression as he set aside the pre-moistened wipe, now soiled. "Now of course I think I just sound like I'm condescendingly explaining your own job to you."

"Heh. Don't worry about it. Too tired to care," the weary medic offered with a reassuring smile, leaning into the backrest of the couch with a slowing blink-rate. "I'm just more concerned about staying awake, while I'm the patient for once, for you."

For you. Something about it was unintentionally sweet to Hunter and made something within him flutter for a moment. That was happening a lot lately, every time he thought of her. He kept chalking it up to his enhancements and memories of the Kaminoans testing him and the others that remained of the experimental unit, the sharp sterility of antiseptic that lingered in her clinic and her clothing and her hair that sometimes turned his stomach, or simply a disconnected unfamiliarity with those who were not Clones… though, while perhaps he never felt truly connected with them and the way some called them the 'Sad Batch' (or called Omega a lab scabber) when they thought they could get away with it, they had still been his brothers in arms in the war.

A war they were still running from. One they nearly lost Crosshair to after 'things went screwy on Kaller' as Wrecker put it once. What an understatement… if Hunter hadn't been so insistent with the Shock Troopers down in the brig that the Batch stayed together to the point that they tased Hunter to shut him up instead of extracting Cross, then Crosshair likely would have been siphoned off to some corner of Tipoca City and had the activation of his inhibitor chip nudged along into unpleasant possibilities Hunter had nightmares about in addition to so many things he'd seen… done, during the Clone Wars. It'd been difficult, and he'd hated part of himself for it, but as they made their initial escape from Kamino, he threatened to stun Crosshair if he didn't kriffing shut up about following orders they didn't even understand for five minutes! so hard he wouldn't wake up until they reached the next star system.

There had been so much bickering. They still bickered even after Captain Rex got in touch with them, somehow, after they left Saleucami visiting the Lawquane family (which had been tricky and Tech worked the loophole that Crosshair could not report Cut for desertion because it had been the GAR when he went AWOL and now it no longer existed, it was the Empire now, right? half to death before Crosshair reluctantly let it be), and they got their chips removed in the rusted out shell of a Venator on Bracca and had been lured into a trap set by Tarkin back on Kamino. Because if Tarkin could not have this SpecOps force, nobody in the galaxy could; he'd aimed to wipe them out and they'd narrowly avoided being swallowed in the eternal seas of the closest thing they had to a homeworld.

It took a long time for the bickering to stop. They were at their throats for a while still until… Crosshair had gotten really, really sick.

That's what led to this friendship with a medic who had been willing to help them nearly a year ago. Though lately, it was feeling… different.

"Hey…" [____] broke the building silence while Hunter had been searching for a bacta patch, and Hunter initially worried he'd done something to tip her off to the personal burdens, the memories, he shouldered. "...weird question for ya, if that's okay."

"How weird?" Hunter tried, careful not to let the hesitancy and budding anxieties show in his voice. There's the karking things. He'd probably need a couple of them to make sure he had it covered so it would heal up nicely, quickly.

"Oh, not very. I just wanna pick your brain a bit."

Ah. Just curiosity. He affixed the first patch over the first half of the laceration, careful not to prod the bruised flesh with unnecessary pressure. "Alright, pick away."

"What is… your favorite memory? When you're having a bad day… what's the thing you think about that always cheers you up?"

"Heh… your day was really that bad that you're looking for advice from a soldier, doc?" Hunter teased, applying a second patch over the laceration. He wasn't sure what he could truthfully answer with while he was carefully measuring out a length of sterile gauze to hold the patches in place on her dominant arm, there being too many little, fleeting happy moments rather than significant memories to spin some story from. But he'd try. "I guess for me… it's less what I think of and more of what I do after a bad mission. Clean my gear. Tidy up my rack. Buff out my helmet-"

The medic smirked, a solitary, quiet laugh interrupting Hunter's train of thought.

Oh, Maker… he'd forgotten the suggestive context behind the phrase she often heard in the infancy of her profession in the midst of the Clone Wars. He'd heard she'd get the stray Clone on occasion at the large health center she was employed at once on a different planet but didn't know how much truth there was to it. "K'uur: that was not a euphemism."

That was met with a nervous giggle that made his stomach flutter. "S-sorry; old habits, and a non-professional setting where I can actually laugh." [____] offered meekly, face flushing with color while he wound the wrapping around her forearm. "C-continue, Hunter, please. 'Buff out your helmet' and...?" The unspoken what else on her tongue was permission enough to show she was serious about him continuing.

"And… check in with the others, I suppose. Make sure that everyone is okay. Spend time with them. Strengthen personal bonds."

A lot like what the two of them were doing now, he supposed. The unintentional check in. Taking care of her injuries while they sat side by side in the common room as the rest of the Batch were sleeping. Except maybe for Tech who often tinkered away on his datapad or the desk he'd squeezed into the room he shared with Wrecker (who wasn't bothered by a roommate with a propensity to dink around with some little gadget or piece of equipment when he was sleeping or resting) at these hours. Or Crosshair, who was often awake and asleep around the same times Hunter was, since they'd have muffled "conversations" through the walls when neither could sleep on occasion. But all was relatively still and quiet in each of his brother's rooms, and the steady rumble of the noise machine in Omega's room meant his sister was asleep.

Drumming rain and swirling waves. The perpetual ambiance of Kamino. He hoped the little machine replicating the soundscape engrained in her memories wouldn't cause her to dream of the Venator class ships bombing the cloning facilities tonight…

While Hunter had been lost in his senses, his worries, the medic had been busy mulling over his words. There was a ghost of a smile taking the place of the pained frown she previously bore. "That all sounds… really nice."

The last injury tended to, Hunter set everything aside and gave [____]'s shoulder a tender double-pat, feeling the tense muscles under his hand as he held his hand there after the friendly gesture. "There you go, ad'ika. All patched up."

"Thanks, appreciate the help Hunter. Could I… trouble you a little further by crashing here for the night? I don't think I'm in a fit state to get back home around now. Far, far too tired." It was definitely not a safe time for a woman to be walking by herself without a blaster, nevermind a tired, injured woman who'd been an invaluable friend to Clone Force 99. He'd never have sent her home to begin with, giving how deeply her chin dipped into her chest with fatigue. "No trouble at all; you're welcome to take my bed, if you want." Hunter offered, giving her shoulder a friendly squeeze. He'd sleep out here in the common room so none of his brothers would get any funny ideas if both he and the medic emerged from the smallest of all the bedrooms in the housing together.

Why the Sith's hells did he just think that?

[____] winced in mild complaint, laugh laced with pain. "Ow, that's quite a grip there, soldier!"

"Sorry," he apologized, "didn't realize how hard it'd be. You carry a lot of stress and tension in your shoulders, ad'ika… I can feel how stiff your muscles are. I… have some experience with providing some relief for that, thanks to all the practice I've had with Wrecker and Tech. Tech's posture is a mess-" He rolled the palm of his hand against her shoulder experimentally, gauging the pliability of the tensest muscle, and she leaned into it eagerly with a whimpering 'oh, Maker…!' surprising even herself. Hunter decided he'd stubbornly pretend not to imagine how not-so-innocent the sound was, to keep talking about his brothers and ignore the heat in his lower belly, another flutter of his heart. "Tech spends hours hunched over his datapad, or some little gadget, or spends hours in those rigid crash seats in the Marauder with his muscles wound so tight he's practically locked in place. Wrecker takes such a beating each mission it's just… uh,"

"A w-way of taking care of him afterwards?" She helped him where he faultured.

"Yeah. That's one part of it. Here, turn so I can get both shoulders." He had her melting under his touch quickly, the practically unhurried worship in this massage he was working into the medic's shoulders, neck, and the dominant arm. The muscles were so stiff and taut under her skin, under his ungloved hands. They were afraid to speak and break the reverence of this moment, the silent work of friend helping friend between each little involuntary sound of great relief or wince of brief pain as each tight, brow-bunching knot slowly surrendered. Her breathing pattern slowed as every minute elapsed between them beyond the gentle moans of relief as Hunter methodically kneaded the muscle free of tension with dexterous fingers. He wouldn't need to dig in so deeply like taking care of Wrecker's messes of well-defined muscle, for which he was grateful, to make any kind of progress, or go so tenderly to start with like he has to for Tech (on occasion) that the goggled Clone sometimes became a little impatient because he wasn't feeling any external relief. He could dip his fingers just a little deeper and just a little shallower, like those perpetual waves of Kamino replicated on Omega's sound machine, as he worked one muscle at a time for the unlikely friend who sat with him on the couch.

It felt roughly the same to strengthening the bonds of the squad to Hunter, but again there was that fluttering in his heart that suggested this was so very different when he realized that when he moved back to [____]'s neck one last time, at her asking, and planted one of his palms on the opposite side of her face to keep her steadied as he dug little circles around the tight muscles under the base of her skull with his thumb that she took one last deep breath and was soon asleep in half a heart's beat between them.

Hunter froze as he was, face hot in panic with the reality that he was now entirely supporting, for the moment, a female friend who was upright and asleep in his hands. Not knowing what to do just as the medic became more limp, he effectively locked himself in place when, on reflex, he caught her upper body against his before lowering it into his lap. A move he'd done a hundred times when one of the squad was this close to fainting out in the field.

Oh, you're kidding me… why the kriff did I do that?

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