#bad batch x gn reader

[sonorousabyss]

Hi!!! Can I have a match up if you’re still doing them please?

I’m gender-fluid and pansexual

I’m about 5’1 and pretty muscular

I have a buzzed head and deep brown eyes with full lips and small nose

I love drawing, playing horror games, watching people draw, making stuff with clay, going outside and hiking!

I’m pretty introverted, I only hang with certain people that I’m comfy with and have trust issues. I have a hard time telling people no sometimes but I love standing up to people when they hurt others.

I’m a Pacifist and hate conflict, I also hate loud noises and bright lights.

I would prefer from clone wars and bad batch!

(Pro-nouns any)

Have an amazing day and thank you!!!

AN: Sorry for the delay, my friend, I hope your day has been amazing as well! This matchup I have in store for you may seem a little unorthodox at first, but it was certainly a joy to write.

Regardless of how you meet this man first, he's always the same: excitable, happy, and just a tad oblivious.

Wrecker isn't always the most in tune with his volume; Frankly, he's always at least a level louder than he probably should be, indoors or outdoors. That said, it's never intentional, and just a sign of his enthusiasm.

Even though he doesn't have the greatest control, I still see you getting closer to each other, even if it has to be a gradual process, with you having to take a step away from time to time to decompress from the overstimulation due to just how loud he can be. He might not fully understand what's going on, but he cares, and he's absolutely trying his best to accommodate once he puts two and two together.

On days that you just can't with the galaxy, perhaps the ship is humming just a bit too loud, or a mission takes you into a cantina with bright lights and a tone-deaf band playing their instruments loud enough to make your ears ring, Wrecker's there, keeping an eye on you and trying to help.

Wrecker is the kind of man to straight-up cover your ears, thinking it may be useful, even if it isn't always effective, and if you're alone after, on the ship or in the barracks drawing? You can bet that he's sitting there hovering, trying to guess what it is you're making.

He isn't always on point with those guesses.

That said, if he knows you're overstimulated, or just trying to collect yourself after a stressful day when you are on the ship, he's going to try and be as silent as possible, even in the most comedic way possible.

That includes hitting his head on the bunk as he sits down next to you, loudly exclaiming in pain, and then immediately following it with a whispered "SORRY", with him and trying to be quiet again.

...That said, Wrecker isn't exactly great at whispering.

If you encourage him, he will certainly attempt to draw with you. His drawings aren't particularly the greatest, but he tries, he loves it, and he loves it when you watch him too. Especially with any level of vested interest.

He 100% has attempted to draw what you were drawing before by looking not-so-discreetly over your shoulder and thinking he's being stealthy about it. He wasn't subtle in the slightest, but it was adorable, and it got some of the boys to chuckle as they watched it happen.

Would give you piggyback rides, and just pick you up and set you on his shoulder for fun.

He'd also do this to give you a better view as well, knowing that he and his brothers all were at least a foot or so taller than you.

You can also expect to be picked up as he runs away from explosions with the team, even if you're able to keep up. He doesn't want you to be in reach of the blast (especially because they're notoriously loud as hell).

Expect his hand to mess with your buzzed head often. He figured out it feels fun once after attempting a reassuring pat on the head and now it's just pure gold to him. Plus, you probably won't threaten to kill him unlike another clone with short hair he knows.... probably.

Recognizes you're a pacifist, given time, and respects it when you stand up to others. In fact, he likes seeing you get that riled up on behalf of others, even if he wished you'd have the confidence to do so for yourself.

That said he's probably going to be the one to step up first in a lot of situations- and frankly, probably situations that don't require him to do it in the first place- engaging in violence so you don't have to, and as he'll excuse "Because it's fun."

Sure, he gets joy out of it. Especially if he gets to blow something- or someone- up in the process. But that doesn't mean he doesn't go into it without good intentions.

Has absolutely slammed a clanker into the wall because it tried to sneak up on you during a mission, or dared to target you in general. Said clanker's head was later used to terrorize Crosshair.

Be glad you enjoy the outdoors, because if Wrecker can drag you in on any of the batcher's missions, he will, and the terrain they're expected to travel regularly isn't always the most pleasant. They're a fairly efficient and mobile group, and the occasional "hike" is to be expected.

On the topic of missions, he's absolutely tried to con you into finding a way to tag along with them when you weren't already assigned to them because he wants you both to quote, "blow stuff up together."

He does this even knowing your dislike of conflict because in his eyes there's nothing quite like bonding over exploding clankers.

Not always the most useful with advice. Anticipate many facepalms in the wake of this goofy man.

If there's anything you can look forward to, it's that Wrecker has the best cuddles. Enough said.

He's sulked several times because he thinks he upset you by being too loud. This is something several of his brothers can attest to.

Overall he's very much a beefy, violent himbo that does his best to show interest in what you like and be a little quieter because he likes you, and it's ultimately adorable as shit.

AN: Ahhh, I love Wrecker with a burning passion, and I'm glad that you sent in a request. Something about the idea of him meeting someone and just being so enamored that he tries to please them despite normally being the very antithesis of who'd they'd find nice to be around is positively adorable, and I simply couldn't resist. Hope you enjoyed! May your day be as pleasant as the ocean's abyss is deep! Also, it's been a while since I've seen bad batch, and I may be a little behind, so if anything here is off I profusely apologize and might edit later. XD

For those of you who are new around here? I take requests. You can find my rules here.

[neon-junkie]

How would TBB react to seeing the reader about to leave on a night out dressed up in a super hot outfit?

Gender-neutral reader, but feminine presenting. Words like 'beautiful' and 'pretty' are used!

Hunter - Even with half of his face tattooed, he still manages to blush through the thickness of the ink. - He's truly lost for words. - Hunter has an adorable stutter as he compliments, "wow, you look… nice- I mean, incredible. Good. Beautiful?" - Hunter then facepalms as he scolds himself for picking "nice" as his first compliment. Ugh, you look so much more than nice! - You'll both be giggling as Hunter takes a deep breath, and begins going into detail about how good you look, highlighting the specific parts that really stand out to him. - You're heading out with friends, but Hunter is quietly hinting that he wants to come along. Totally not because he's jealous or anything, but because he hopes to meet your friends, right? The friends that he's met several times before? Yeah! - Tell him that you'll still be looking this good when you come back home later tonight, and he'll get the hint. - However, he may need to leave a fresh mark or two on your neck, just to get the point across that you're taken.

Echo - This poor, poor man is going to turn the deepest shade of red when he finally sees you. - Why, just WHY did you have to wear that specific outfit that he loves so much?! And you're going out without him too?! Oh, what a tease! - Echo is lost for words as he gushes over you. He feels like it's his wedding day - How is he this lucky? How did he land an angel like you? - There's a tear in his eye as you smother him in kisses, reassuring him that you're all his, that you're the lucky one for being with him, that you can't wait to come home and snuggle up with him later. - Echo doesn't ask for much, but he would like to be kept in the loop on your whereabouts. Purely for your own safety! - "And when you reach the next bar, just comm me. Your friends have my comm number too, don't they? If anything goes wrong, and you want picking up-" blahblahblah. - One final smother in reassuring kisses, and you're good to hit the town!

Wrecker - His mouth instantly hangs open, his eyes turn wide, and his facial expression swiftly turns into a grin as he comments, "HOT!!" - You know in cartoons where the character's mouth drops open, and they begin howling and barking? Yeah, that's Wrecker. - Seriously, you look hot, and Wrecker's going to ensure that you know it. - "Look at you! I can't believe I got myself an angel as sweet as you!" - He'll mention how he's sad that he's not tagging along, but he'll assure you that it's important you spend your time with your friends. - Wrecker isn't as clingy as he seems. After all, he'll be right here, waiting for your return. - And when you do return, all your hangover needs will be met. A tall glass of water waiting for you, a midnight snack, breakfast in bed, and a big buff man to cuddle you back to health!

Tech - This will go one of two ways: - Option one: Tech eyes you up and down, and with a firm nod, he comments, "that is suitable attire for your evening. I hope you enjoy yourself." - Option two: Tech's brain short circuits. He can barely muster up a thought, let alone a comment. Radio silence, but his expression says it all. - Either way, Tech is more than impressed with your outfit choice, and how stunning you look. He just… struggles to find the words, like a deer in the headlights. - Give him a few moments, and you'll be met with suitable praise. "How exquisite you look, a truly elegant and radiant creature." - Tech can't pinpoint one specific word to describe how beautiful you look, so instead, he selects the most complex and in-depth ones. He doesn't want to rely on a 'standard compliment.' - A few kisses later, and you're off to meet your friends. All the while, Tech begins pacing around the Marauder like a lost puppy. He needs to keep himself occupied until you return!

Crosshair - He's instantly thirsty for you, smiling cheekily as he eyes you up, gawking at the sight of you. - Crosshair has a way with words, and spews out his praise, all whilst kneading at your waist, his hands trailing down to grab your ass whilst he steals a handful of kisses from you. - And then it dawns on him… - You're going out with your friends tonight, not him… - Jealousy swiftly takes over, and his compliment turn into teasing (yet petty) jabs. Nothing to hurt your feelings, though. - "Any reason why you're wearing this tonight? Do you need more attention? Am I not enough for you?" - Whilst his tone is teasing, there's a desperate need for validation. - Yes, he knows you'd never be stupid and hurt him, but… can you please remind him one more time? - Don't be surprised when you leave, and minutes later, Crosshair sends you a holotext. "Comm me if you need anything, Beautiful."

[mae-lou-ron]

Back to Sleep

Summary: After some bad dreams interrupt your sleep, you find some unexpected comfort in your beloved partner, Tech.

Pairing: Tech x gn!reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, waking from bad dreams (no details), fluffy practical Tech in a newish relationship.

Word Count: ~800

A/N: AHHHHHH okay okay okay so the plot goblins absolutely infested my brain after I saw THIS ✨incredible✨ artwork of our darling Tech by @ghostymarni 🫶🏻 This is completely self indulgent because, well, I love him, your honor. I was also a little inspired by the scene in the episode of Schitt’s Creek where Alexis tells David about her breakup with Mutt and realizes she needs a hug 😂

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey, Tech?" you murmured into the room he was occupying.

Tech hummed softly in acknowledgment. "It is late and I am in the middle of repairs—what do you need?" he asked quietly, not looking up from his project.

You didn't take offense to his demeanor when interrupted; it was just how his brain worked. His mind never ceasing its search for information and solutions. Sometimes that meant extracting himself from your sleepy cocoon to pursue whatever pathway his incredible mind had opened up to him in the middle of the night. But when you didn't respond for a moment, it shifted his unwavering attention to you, immediately noticing your slightly disheveled state.

"I just…" You paused again. "Maker, this is so stupid," you muttered under your breath, unsure if Tech heard you or not.

There was no room for anxiety in your gut now that the mortified butterflies had taken over. Things were still fairly new with you and Tech. You appreciated that he wasn't one who typically relied on physical affection to convey his feelings—and neither were you, really, but right now you were still a human with a rattled nervous system.

You heard the sound of tools being set down gently and the quiet thump of his approaching footsteps.

Your face was burning with embarrassment. You weren't a child, clearly, you should be able to console yourself and go back to sleep, but you were here now and had his undivided attention. Something that made your chest flutter wildly whenever you had it.

The toes of his boots came into your view as he stopped in front of you. "Sarad?" Tech inquired, his voice softening. "Is something the matter? You seem… unsettled." He offered. The warmth he always radiated displaced some of the chill that had set into your bones, and you instinctively leaned forward into him a little more. "Did I wak—"

"I had a nightmare—" you blurted out, inwardly groaning. Your eyes flicked up to his briefly before focusing on the middle of his chest. “I woke up and you…”

"I see," he said softly after a moment, adjusting his goggles as he regarded you. "You were seeking comfort after your bad dreams had woken you?"

"It's nothing—I was just a bit anxious when I woke up, but it's… it's nothing," you said again, standing on your tiptoes and giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. "I'm fine, I really should go back to sleep…and don’t to stay up too la—" you rambled, still talking yourself out of whatever reason you had to disturb him. You took a few steps back the way you came, but Tech’s hands on your shoulders stopped you.

"Your heart rate is elevated," he said plainly, peering at you. "You are flushed and speaking more quickly than usual." Tech lifted the back of his hand to gently run along your heated cheekbone. "…and you are avoiding eye contact with me, so I can deduce that you are, in fact, not 'fine’, my dear," he said softly, his fingers trailing down your chin before he pulled them away.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked genuinely. “I know that helps you sometimes,”

You shook your head, furrowing your brow. "It's just the same one I told you about," you confessed, biting the inside of your cheek, trying to determine yourself what it is you were seeking. His hand was back at his side, but you wished it was still caressing your face.

"I think I might need a…hug…" you said warily, as if you were unsure of the words that came out of your own mouth. "…or something?" You added, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Ah," he said, his eyes darting back and forth processing this information. He did that sometimes. You couldn't help but smile at seeing the brain you adored at work for you. "I understand," he added before walking back to his workbench—making it seem as though he didn't actually understand at all. You took a few steps in his direction as he pulled over a nearby chair and sat down.

Confusion was visible on your face. You told him you needed a hug, or something, and he immediately went and sat down? Possibly to continue the task you had just interrupted? But he didn't start working; he just looked at you expectantly.

"Come here, sarad," he said gently, shifting in the seat and patting his legs.

You smiled slowly, now understanding, and tiptoed over to him, gingerly taking a seat in his lap. He pulled you to him tightly, encouraging you to relax and lounge fully on him. He kissed the top of your head and ran his hand up and down your spine as you curled into the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent of clean soap and mechanical ozone.

"This is nice," you sighed contentedly, feeling the tension in your chest releasing.

"Good," he quipped, brushing your face with his fingers again. "Rest. Fall asleep if you wish… I shall be here."

"Thank you," you murmured, curling your arms around his waist and closing your eyes. Tech's hands eventually left you to resume his task, but he pressed his lips into the top of your head every so often, reminding you he was still right there with you. His warmth and the steady thrum of his heart soothed you, while the sounds of his gentle tinkering and even breathing lulled you back into a peaceful sleep.

When you awoke, you found yourself back in Tech's bunk, but this time he was wrapped around you, snoring softly into your shoulder.

[momojedi]

Despair Crosshair x GN! Reader

A/N: I love traumatising my readers.

Summary: Torn between duty and heartbreak, Crosshair cradles a dying loved one as Separatists close in.

CW: death, bleeding out, graphic description of blood, angst. HEAVY ANGST, mentions of war, clone wars era

WC: 533 words

“Crosshair, we’ve got to move!” Hunter’s voice was sharp, strained, cutting through the chaos like a blade. The Separatists were closing in, their forces steadily bypassing the encrypted lock Tech had placed in the base’s system before the mission had even begun. Time was slipping away.

But Crosshair couldn’t move. Not with you in his arms, gasping, sobbing - your blood pooling beneath you, dark and spreading fast.

The shot had barely finished echoing when he fired back, a single, unhesitating blaster bolt straight through the bounty hunter’s skull. He hadn’t even waited to watch the body hit the floor before abandoning his post, tearing off his helmet, and dropping to his knees at your side and pulling you into his lap.

His mind snapped into autopilot, scanning you from head to the gaping wound in your stomach. His hands pressed down, desperate to stop the bleeding, but the warmth of your blood seeped through his gloved fingers, leaving his stomach churning at the sight.

You cried out at the impact on the aching spot, gripping at his arms and digging your nails into the grey plastoid of his vambraces so deeply, he was sure he would later find new scratch marks added to the countless others scattering his armour since the beginning of the war. Rendered thoughtless by the pain, you were barely able to form any coherent sentences, instead communicating through a series of broken cries and grunts, accompanied by laboured breaths as Crosshair watched you helplessly, brows furrowed and eyes wide.

"Shh, come on, stay with me," Crosshair muttered, more to himself than to you. He knew how this would end - he’d seen it too many times before. Regs bleeding out in the dirt, medics rushing in not to save them, but to clear the battlefield for the ones who could still fight. But he couldn't accept that. Not with you.

"Keep your eyes open." His sharp gaze roamed over your bruised face - tear-streaked, sweat-dampened strands of hair clinging to your skin. Even like this, even in agony, you were beautiful. His hand found your cheek, cradling it tenderly, while the other pressed down, desperate to hold you together, to keep your life from slipping through his fingers.

"Please."

But your breaths were slowing. Your grip loosening. He felt you slipping away. "No, no, no - cyar’ika, (name), please."

For the first time, Crosshair understood what despair truly was. "Hunter, help me!" His voice cracked as he called out, raw and broken, but he didn’t look up. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. Hunter hesitated. His gaze flickered between the exit and the wreckage of his brother’s world unraveling before him. He wouldn’t abandon Crosshair - leaving anyone behind had never been an option - but the mission… the mission mattered. The data they had retrieved could change the course of the war. And the battle droids' thumping against the door pulled him back into reality.

Crosshair finally looked up, his expression shattered, pleading. And it broke Hunter. He swallowed hard, forcing his voice to stay steady. "Cross… we have to go."

But how could he, when his whole galaxy was bleeding out in his arms.

[nahoney22]

Congratulations on the followers⭐️ I have a scenario I think you’ll absolutely smash! If possible can I have the prompt “I want to help you… if you’ll let me.” With Hunter and a F!reader.

Hunter is quite hard on reader but only because he’s protective but it comes across super badly and one night you had enough of his nagging and go to a bar for a drink but start getting a bit hassled by a drunk patron and hunter comes to help you out? BUT reader can fully handle herself bc bossbitch 😆 Would love it to be angsty, classic enemies to lovers and it may end with a little smooch?

Thank you if you do this and no worries if not ♥️

4000 Follower Prompt Celebration

Hunter X F!Reader

word count: 3.3k

prompt:

“I want to help you… if you’ll let me.”

authors note: thank you for the request! Love this idea. Enjoy and sorry for the wait 🤍

warnings: enemies to lovers, drunk patron who can’t take no for an answer, canon typical violence, angsty, mild injury to reader, reader gets insulted, female reader, hunter is a bit of an arse at first, first kiss which is a little steamy, protective hunter. I

The aftermath of the latest mission left a sour taste lingering in your mouth, the tension between you and Hunter palpable in the crowded bar. Despite the success of the mission, Hunter couldn't resist injecting his bitter critique into the - what should be - celebratory atmosphere.

As the squad was basking in victory, clinking cups and allowing Omega to indulge in a very sugary concoction that almost had her bouncing off the walls, Hunter's biting words tainted the mood.

His critique of your tactics cut deep, branding you as reckless and a threat to safety, all delivered in front of the entire squad.

Flushed with embarrassment and fueled by anger, you hastily abandoned the bar, seeking refuge in another dimly lit establishment down the strip. Unbeknownst to you, the others exchanged scornful glances, Echo remarking, "She gets it from you, you know?" A subtle nod to your adoption of Hunter's techniques, albeit with less finesse.

Swallowing his pride, Hunter trailed after you with a heavy sigh, the weight of his words hanging heavy on his shoulders as he tried to find a way to make it up to you.

Meanwhile in the new bar, a sketchy run down looking thing with flickering strobe lights, you find yourself situated between two patrons in a world of their own.

As you waited for the service droid to serve you, a small shift from you caught the attention of the man on the left. A rugged looking man with a rather stale odor to match.

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” His inquiry, laced with unwanted charm, sent a shiver down your spine as you maintained a polite smile, avoiding direct eye contact.

“In this dump? Not quite sure. But, just here for one drink,” you replied, hoping to discourage further conversation.

The man chuckled, a smug grin etching lines on his worn face, followed by a troubling cough that was hacked into a dirty rag that makes you squirm. “That so?” He asks after his coughing fit. “Mind if I get ya one?"

"I'll get it myself. Thanks for the offer," you replied, freezing him in his tracks.

"Heh, you think you're too good for me?" he retorted, his gaze piercing.

Sighing, you turned to face him, attempting to maintain composure amidst his growing aggression. "I didn't say anything like that. I'm here to buy my own drink and leave."

But as his tone escalated and his proximity grew, you reached your breaking point. Despite your attempts to politely decline, he persisted, his invasive advances refusing to relent, leaving you feeling increasingly uncomfortable and trapped.

Until you snapped.

Hunter found himself darting his head into every bar and club, your current whereabouts unknown. Frustration gnawed at him as he went to check your location only to see you had switched it off, thwarting his attempts to track you down.

However, a subtle whiff in the air caught his attention, and his stomach churned. The same sensation he developed whenever the smell hit him. He finds himself gulping a little as he instantly recognised the faint scent of the floral soap that only you used.

It left a lingering trace, teasing him that he was on the right track. A part of him wanted to clear the scent away; he had smelled it so often in the Marauder that it always sent his mind into a spiral of confusion and found it rather distracting.

His thoughts on your scent dissipated as the sound of loud banging reverberated down a stairway to a rundown bar. Hunter froze, his senses sharpening as he listened intently. The familiar sound of your voice had him bolting down the steps, instincts kicking in as he rushed to your aid. Or so he thought he had to.

Upon entering, Hunter's heart quickened its pace as he was greeted with the sight of you, hands raised in a defensive stance, facing off against a man whose laughter echoed brashly in your face. The tension in the air was thick as you snapped, “Keep your dirty, mucus breath away from me!”

The man, undeterred by your sharp words, retorted with a smirk, “That ain’t very ladylike of you, sweet cheeks. Calm down and have a drink with me.”

Your nostrils flared in anger, steam seemingly emanating from you as you glared daggers at him. “I said no,” you snarled, your voice dripping with venom. “And call me ‘sweet cheeks’ one more time, I’ll kick you between the legs so hard it won’t be the cough you’re choking on!”

As the confrontation intensified, Hunter's eyes widened in surprise and concern as he watched from a few feet away, momentarily frozen by the scene unfolding before him.

Then, his protective side kicks in, taking a step forward, the need to intervene pulsing through his veins. He speaks your name which causes you to freeze and glance over your shoulder to meet his penetrating gaze. Great.

Meanwhile, the man, sensing the shift in dynamics, glanced over your shoulder too and directed a question at Hunter. “Oi, bandana, does she belong to you?”

Your eyes flashed with defiance as you interrupted before Hunter could respond, your voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “I don’t belong to nobody, let’s get that right,” you hissed, your gaze locked in a fierce glare with the patron.

“You best listen to her,” Hunter piped up, stepping in between you and the man with a protective stance. “But,” he continued, turning to look at you, “I think me and you should get going.”

You stared at the clone, a wave of anger and confusion washing over you. What game was he playing? First, he mocked you, and now he was trying to act like Prince Charming? So, you shook your head adamantly. “I’ve still not had my drink.”

“I said I’ll buy you one,” the patron quipped.

“Will you shut up?” Both you and Hunter snapped at the same time, sharing a surprised glance at the oddity of the moment, but quickly brushing it off. You nudged past him and leaned back on the bartop, determined to get the attention of the service droid.

Hunter's sigh was loud as he stood beside you, gesturing for you to follow him, but you persisted with a shake of your head. You came for a drink, and you would leave with one.

Just as you thought things couldn't get any worse, the patron approached you, reaching a hand towards you. But Hunter was already on the case, swatting the man's hand away with a swift motion. “Lay a finger on her and I’ll break all of yours. Leave.”

You stared at the back of Hunter’s head, your eyes wide in surprise at his tone and sudden threat. He was always a commanding presence, but never to this extent. It made you feel a strange mix of emotions, a tingling sensation spreading from your belly to the tips of your fingers.

The man glanced between you and Hunter, his expression a mixture of defiance and resignation, before taking a final swig of his drink. With a nod of his head, he seemed prepared to leave, but not without delivering a parting shot.

“Put her on a leash next time.”

Despite Hunter's heightened senses, he was not quick enough to respond as you pivoted on your heel and unleashed a hefty punch straight to the man’s nose. The force of the blow sent him sprawling to the ground, landing hard on his rear.

The man, stunned and ready to retaliate, found himself abruptly halted by a boot pressed firmly to his chest, courtesy of the tall Clone. With his hands raised in defense, he hesitated.

“Apologise to the lady,” Hunter demanded, his voice firm and unwavering.

“Forget it, Hunter,” you muttered, adrenaline still coursing through your veins as you shook out your hand. “I’m not going to ask someone or force someone to apologise to me.” There was a certain edge in your voice, a subtle reminder of Hunter's own failure to say sorry for his earlier words.

Unfortunately, the disruption had drawn the attention of the service droid (finally), and you and Hunter were promptly forced to leave.

As you were ushered out, you wasted no time in striding ahead, your steps heavy with frustration. The rhythmic tap of your boots echoed against the pavement, a stark contrast to the fading sounds of the bar behind you.

"Hey, wait up!" Hunter's voice called after you, but you were resolute in your determination not to stop. You didn't want him to see your tears, didn't want to show any vulnerability in front of him. Not after everything that had just happened. Not after that painful punch that felt like hitting a brick wall.

Ignoring his calls, you continued forward, your jaw clenched tightly to hold back the emotions threatening to spill over. But your pace was abruptly halted as Hunter caught up to you, using his body as a barrier as he stopped directly in front of you.

"Come on, we need to talk. I need to—Are you crying?" Hunter's voice softened, concern evident in his tone as he noticed the telltale signs of tears glistening in your eyes.

"No!" you snapped back, a reflexive denial, but the tremble in your voice betrayed your true emotions.

Hunter sighed softly, his shoulders slumping slightly as he realised the depth of your distress. "Let’s get back to the ship. We can talk there," he suggested gently, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

A part of you wanted to stay stubborn, to refuse his offer and continue on your own path to perhaps another bar. But the night was growing darker, and the pain in your hand from the earlier punch was becoming increasingly unbearable. With a resigned nod, you reluctantly allowed Hunter to guide you back to the port.

Once inside the ship, the air felt heavier with tension as you stood in the cramped space, watching intently as Hunter meticulously sifted through the clutter of supplies and equipment scattered around. With a focused determination, he located a medkit.

When you insisted that you didn't need him to attend to your injury, considering it wasn't that serious, Hunter's expression hardened, his voice taking on a stern edge. "Yeah? Want to explain why there’s now blood on the ship floor?" The sharpness in his tone made your face flush with embarrassment as you glanced down, noticing the small tear in your skin that had resulted from the brief scuffle.

"Oh," you muttered awkwardly, feeling hot under Hunter's scrutiny.

“Sit here.” Without missing a beat, Hunter gestured for you to sit on a nearby crate, his demeanor firm yet oddly reassuring. As he patted the surface in front of him, you couldn't help but wonder about his motives. Was it your earlier words about his lack of apology that lingered in his mind, prompting this gesture of care? Or was there another reason behind his actions? The uncertainty gnawed at you, but deep down, a part of you couldn't deny the comfort of his presence in that moment.

“I don’t need coddling,” you mumbled half-heartedly, attempting to maintain a facade of independence despite the conflicting emotions swirling within you. Nevertheless, your feet moved almost of their own accord, carrying you towards Hunter as you settled yourself onto the crate in front of him.

"Oh, I know, you handled yourself well," Hunter chuckled softly, his hands moving deftly as he pulled out pads to dab at your skin, preparing to disinfect the area. “I want to help you… if you’ll let me.”

You grumbled in response, your eyes trained on his hands as they worked. "Ha, next joke please."

Hunter raised a brow at you, his expression serious for a moment. "I mean it," he insisted, his tone earnest.

You couldn't help but scoff, the bitterness of his previous criticism still fresh in your mind. "Yet I’m reckless and a danger to others?" you retorted, your voice tinged with sarcasm and frustration.

A heavy sigh escaped Hunter's lips, and he paused in his actions, looking you directly in the eye, though you were doing your hardest not to meet his gaze. "I want to say sorry for what I said. I… I should have said it to you alone. And differently."

You could hear the slight awkwardness in his tone, but it did come across as honest. Yet, you were still annoyed. “Yeah well, you completely embarrassed and upset me.”

He blinked, gnawing on the inside of his cheek as your voice took on a gentle tone tinged with sadness. “I know, and I am sorry. Truly. But, I only said it because…” he trailed off for a moment, his eyes trained on the medkit again, as if searching for the answer within.

“Because?” You prompted him, giving his leg a small nudge with your foot.

“Because I care. I don’t want you taking risks like I do. Like what the others do.” Hunter's admission hung in the air, revealing a layer of concern and perhaps a touch of vulnerability.

There was a gravity to Hunter's words, a weight that seemed to hang in the air, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions within you. It was as if his sudden sincerity reached out and tugged at the strings of your heart, tempting you to lean into the warmth of his presence. But you resisted, holding back the urge to act on the tumultuous feelings that were suddenly swirling inside you.

“You certainly have an odd way with words in that case,” you found yourself saying, your voice slightly breathless as you struggled to make sense of the complex emotions churning within you. Hunter seemed to notice the subtle change in your demeanor, his senses catching the telltale signs of your heightened heartbeat.

“You’re not wrong,” he admitted quietly, his own voice apologetic. With gentle precision, he applied some bactaspray to your knuckles, his touch light yet reassuring. As he dabbed away the blood, you couldn't help but hiss in pain, the sting overlapping the odd flutter in your heart.

“My apologies,” Hunter murmured, his gaze meeting yours with sincerity.

Despite the slight discomfort, there was a flicker of amusement in your eyes as you watched him meticulously care for your hand. Never had you seen him so gentle and so indulged at the task at hand.

As you watched Hunter, the smirk gradually faded from your lips, replaced by a sense of awe as your eyes traced the finer details of his face. His strong jawline, the depth of his intoxicating eyes, and the tattoo that adorned his skin, its colors slightly faded but still complimenting his rugged appearance perfectly. His long locks, usually tucked back by his bandana, had fallen forward, framing his face in a way that emphasised his rugged charm.

You came to a sudden realisation of just how handsome he was. Of course, you had always known it on some level, but now it struck you with a new intensity that made your heart quicken and your cheeks flush with a sudden shyness.

“So, do you forgive me?” Hunter's voice broke through your reverie, pulling you back to reality and you found yourself momentarily lost in the depths of his gaze.

“Sorry, what?” you blinked, feeling a flush of embarrassment heat your cheeks as you snapped out of your reverie, realizing you had been lost in awe-struck admiration of Hunter.

He chuckled softly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he raised a brow at your dazed stare. “No, it’s me who is the one saying ‘sorry’ this time.” With a gentle touch, he guided your attention back to your injured hand, his movements careful and deliberate as he applied a dressing before neatly packing the medkit away. “But I’ll ask again, do you forgive me?”

“Oh,” you mumbled, feeling a mixture of confusion, shyness, and bashfulness under his attentive gaze. “I suppose… just please don’t do it again.”

“You have my word,” he nodded, his smile warm and reassuring. When his gaze met yours, the swirling storm of your emotions came back, and your heart raced even faster than before when he extended his hand towards you.

You tried to play it off as a simple gesture to help you off the crate, but as you placed your good hand into his, there was a gentle squeeze in his touch before he effortlessly pulled you forward, almost causing you to stumble into his chest.

“Oh!- oh,” you stammered, quickly steadying yourself but growing increasingly aware of the proximity between you and the Sergeant.

His eyes remained locked on yours, his head tilting slightly to the side as he studied your reaction. “Everything alright?” he asked, his voice soft, the warmth of his hand still lingering on yours.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you nodded firmly, though the erratic thumping of your heart betrayed your composure, and you couldn't shake the feeling that Hunter could sense it, a twinkle of amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Tell me,” his voice was hushed, his warm breath brushing against your features as he leaned in closer, “why is your heart beating so fast?”

You gulped, feeling his proximity overwhelming your senses as you searched his eyes for an answer, but all you found was a reflection of your own turmoil. The truth was written in the depths of your gaze, but your words failed you, and you found yourself stuttering over your thoughts, unable to form a coherent sentence. It was as if the weight of your unspoken feelings hung heavy in the air between you.

“If I’m not mistaken,” Hunter spoke aloud, his other hand moving to gently push a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “I can’t help but wonder if you…” He trailed off, uncertainty lacing his words, but he couldn't ignore the palpable tension that crackled between you any longer, “if you have feelings for me.”

“Do you truly care about me?” you asked, your voice a delicate whisper tinged with a shyness as you found yourself yearning to inch just a tad closer to Hunter's body. Every nerve in your body seemed to hum with anticipation, the air thick with unspoken desires.

Sensing your feelings, Hunter gently pushed you back with his body, his touch sending a shiver down your spine as your legs hit the crate behind you. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “You don’t understand how much I care,” his voice rumbled low, the depth of his emotions evident in his tone. “I’ve never cared about anyone so much in my life.”

With just the two of you here, the atmosphere crackled with an electrifying tension, each heartbeat echoing in the silence as you teetered on the edge of something unspoken yet undeniable.

“Well,” you whispered, your injured hand reaching out to touch his chest, your fingers tracing the contours of his shirt as if seeking reassurance, “maybe I do too. Maybe I do have feelings for you.”

A sigh, almost a mix of a moan and relief, escaped Hunter's lips at your words. “Come here to me,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

Without hesitation, you closed the distance between the pair of you, your lips meeting his in a somewhat long-awaited embrace. Hunter's arms enveloped you, one hand cradling your body with a firm yet gentle touch, while the other slid to the back of your head, holding you close with a tenderness that made your heart flutter as his fingers tangled in your hair.

Lifting you, you're placed on top of the crate once again, Hunter sandwiched between your legs as you both savor the quiet and serene moment. Your bitterness had vanished, replaced with the soft taste of his tongue dancing with yours. An alcoholic tang.

For a moment, all the tension, all the longing and arguing melted away as you molded into each other, lost in the sweetness of the kiss and the warmth of each other's embrace. “Hunter,” you whimper breathlessly.

You hoped the others wouldn’t come back for a while.

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[dystopicjumpsuit]

Cuddles and Snuggles?! 👀

Sign me up lol

I have a request if you feel inspired by it 👀

6. trying to crawl under their shirt with either Wrecker or Kix.

Because I would very much like to hide under their shirts than deal with the outside lol

If you think of someone that fits the prompt better, then do that instead! (Or you can entirely disregard this ofc lol)

😘💜💜💜

A/N: Moonie! I had this whole ficlet planned out, and then we chatted about this wonderful Wrecker art by @pinkiemme, and it took over my entire brain. So thank you both for inspiring me. 🖤♥️

Pairing: Wrecker x Reader (GN)

Rating: T (but as always, minors DNI)

Wordcount: 573

Warnings and tags: fluff, cuddles, established relationship shenanigans, very slightly suggestive dialogue, mild language

Summary: Wrecker is just so warm.

Suggested Listening (English translation here):

This fic smells like: Work From Home by Memoire Archives (cappuccino, caramel, biscotti)

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You rolled over to find an empty bed. You groped blindly through the blankets, but Wrecker was nowhere to be found, and based on how cold the sheets were, he’d been gone a while. Grinding the palms of your hands into your eyes, you sat up, searching blearily for him. There was no sign of him, so you stumbled out of bed to form a rescue party of one. It wasn’t long before you saw the soft blue glow of his datapad as he curled up on the sofa in the darkness.

“Hey,” you whispered, your voice coming out in a hoarse croak. 

He looked up and smiled. “What’re you doin’ up?”

“I got cold,” you replied. “Can’t sleep?”

He shook his head.

“I’ll make us some caf,” you said.

“Already got some moogan tea,” he replied, holding up a steaming mug. 

Screw the caf, then, you decided, immediately crossing the room to plop down next to him. You leaned your head against his shoulder, wrapped your arms around his waist, and draped your legs across his thigh, tucking your feet against his calf.

“You really are cold,” Wrecker said with a laugh as he felt your frigid toes.

“Warm me up?” you pleaded, giving him the softest, most pathetic tooka eyes you could muster at such an early hour.

“C’mere, then,” he replied, adjusting your position so he could hold you a little closer while still staring over your head at his datapad.

“Reading something good?” you asked.

He kissed the top of your head. “Candy Crush.”

You laughed quietly and snuggled closer, teasing your chilled fingers beneath the hem of his shirt. He flinched away involuntarily, but when you pulled back, he let out a little grumble.

“It’s all right,” he said. “You just surprised me. Come back.”

You didn’t bother to put up even a token resistance, instead diving your icy hands enthusiastically back under his shirt. 

“Gods, you’re so warm!” you murmured, burrowing closer and sliding your hands further and further under his shirt, until you were practically wearing it with him.

“I do that on purpose so you’ll cuddle up to me,” he replied, holding back a laugh. “Comfy down there?”

“I’m working on it,” you replied. “You’re a really good heat source.”

“And you’re a really good icicle.” He set down his mug and wrapped his free arm around you. “You tryin’ to climb all the way inside my shirt?”

“Our shirt,” you replied, your voice slightly muffled by the fabric. “Besides, I’m not trying. I’m succeeding.”

“Well, maybe I should just carry you back to our bed so you can have a real blanket.”

“No, this is fine,” you replied from inside his—ahem—your shirt. “It’s cozy. I live here now.”

You felt the deep rumble of his chuckle against your cheek as you nuzzled your face against his chest. “You gonna pay rent?”

“Nah, I’m sleeping with the landlord. He’d never evict me.”

"You got that right." He shifted, and you heard the soft clatter of his datapad as he set it on the floor, then both of his arms closed around you. With seemingly no effort at all, he lifted you up and rolled the both of you over so you were tucked securely between him and the back of the sofa, wrapped in his embrace. He yawned loudly, and you knew he’d doze off within minutes. "Now stop squirmin’ and go back to sleep.”

 ---

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[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

Hello friend 👋 wasn’t episode 4 of tbb amazing?? I’m loving this season. Wanted to pop in and request a fic - you know how when you’re walking your dog and everyone has to stop and say hello to the dog bc obvs. Can you do something like that but it’s crosshair walking batcher and reader stops to say how cute but then crosshair gets jealous of batcher getting all the love lol

Dog Days

Crosshair x Reader

Summary- You met Crosshair while he was taking Batcher for a walk. Passing your house quickly became a daily task you all looked forward to. Is it wrong to say you caught feelings for him? And was Crosshair really jealous of the attention you gave Batcher?

A/N- Hey girl! Sorry your request took so long to get around to. I didn't forget you! I want to personally thank you for all your kind words. I always see your liking and commenting on my works! This was such a cute idea!!! Crosshair is definitely the 'dad who didn't want the dog, but now loves it' guy. Thanks for requesting!

Word Count- 1,409

The scurrying of paws on tile caught your attention. You raised from your bent position, having been watering your plants outside your home.

You turned just in time to see a various colored blue animal running your way. The figure and attitude of it reminded you of a dog, but you were sure it wasn't.

The closer it got, you realized it was not slowing down. With a hiked breath, you squinted your eyes and prepared for impact.

"Batcher, stop!" A males voice rang out.

Just as commanded, the animal stopped at your feet. You opened your eyes to see it now sitting, tongue out. You blinked, heart still pounding.

"Sorry." Said the man, which you recognized as Crosshair. Him and the rest of his brothers had come back to Pabu after rescuing Omega.

"No, it's okay. Really, he seems sweet." The animal jumped to its feet as you reached a hand out. Your hand was soon met with slobber, as the animal licked you again.

"She."

"Oh, sorry. She seems sweet." You crouched down to her level, now fully petting her. You gave out a laugh as she now nuzzled into your face.

Crosshair crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. You took the hint.

"I guess I'll let you two get going. Have a nice day!" You stood, much to Batchers dismay. She already had a liking to you. She reluctantly followed Crosshair when he turned and walked away.

Only a day passed until you saw the two of them again. This time you had been leaving a neighbors house, needing some flour.

You of course, saw Batcher running down first. Crosshair slowly following. She barked at the sight of you, you didn't get scared when she ran at you this time.

"Hey girl!" You called out to her, but what you didn't expect was for her to actually jump on you.

It wasn't painful, but she did manage to knock the small bag of flour out of your hands. She had you playfully pinned under her, licking whatever she could.

The flour was also on top of you, and her, and the surrounding tile.

You gave out a cough, a white puff leaving your lips.

'Batcher, off!" Crosshair was frustrated at the scene. He had watched the whole fall.

Batcher didn't understand and happily ran over to him. You were still on the ground, slightly embarrassed at the turned heads.

A hand reached down to you, you grabbed it. Crosshair easily pulled you up. His strength took you by surprise.

"She hurt you?" He asked.

"I'm okay, I think most of the impact was on my butt." You rubbed at your hip, a dull pain arriving. It was going to bruise.

"How much flour was it?" He didn't seem to really care how you were doing.

"Uh, I think five cups? I was just borrowing it from my friend."

He hummed, Batcher was still at his side. She was awaiting his next command.

"It's fine, really. I know she didn't mean to." There was an awkward air around.

"I'll bring some tomorrow." Was all he said before turning and walking off.

He did bring the flour the next day, a bag double the size of what you had. You gave your neighbor her portion and put the rest in a jar.

You profusely thanked him, but he brushed it off and continued his walk.

To show your gratitude for the extra flour, you baked him a dozen cookies. You wrapped them neatly and carefully waited to see the two of them.

You found ways to busy yourself outside, trying not to make it obvious you were eagerly waiting for Crosshair. Oh, yeah and Batcher.

Upon hearing a bark, you ran inside to grab your fresh cookies. You raced back outside just in time to see Crosshair standing. He had his head turned, looking around. Was he looking for you?

"Crosshair?" His head shot your way.

"I baked you some cookies! As a formal 'thank you.'" He just looked at you, so you raised the cookies to him.

"Thank you." He said, fighting a smile.

"What did you say your name was?" It was your turn to smile at his question.

You promptly told him, trying not to grin too big.

He nodded.

"T-Theres enough cookies for the rest of your brothers, and Omega." You informed him. At his look, you felt your cheeks getting hot. He probably felt weirded out that you knew everyone's name, especially since he just learnt yours.

"Sorry..." You didn't even know what you were apologizing for, but you felt guilty for making things awkward once again.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, so don't apologize." His words were cold, but had a sense of affection in them.

At the new silence, you figured it was time to part once again.

"Have a good day, I hope you like the cookies." He actually waved this time, glancing over his shoulder to see you smile and wave back.

With each day that passed, you slowly got closer and closer to Crosshair and Batcher. Passing your house seemed to be on their daily walking routine.

A minute spent passing your house turned into taking a twenty or thirty minute break. You'd hold and play with Batcher while talking with Cross. It ranged from the weather to nightmares. You both found yourselves opening up to each other.

You quickly grew feelings for Crosshair over the weeks passed.

There were times you thought he felt the same, but the second you might have confessed or leaned in for a kiss- he'd change the subject. You just accepted that he didn't like you in the way you liked him. It hurt but you couldn't force feelings onto him.

You had started to notice that when you giddily ran to Batcher or held her tightly, Crosshair curled his lip- or gave out a glare. You picked up that he might be jealous of the attention you were giving her. Though, why would he be jealous if he didn't have any feelings for you?

It came to be a few minutes past two o'clock. Crosshair would be coming down any minute now. Though, your pesky bladder had you quickly running back inside.

When you came out, Crosshair was sat on your front porch. Batcher was at the ready, panting and hyper.

You greeted her first, dropping to your knees. She was more playful today, not leaving you alone.

"Oh, you're such a good girl!" You scratched behind her ears, she closed her eyes and wagged her tail.

You continued to play with her, she was rolling and doing tricks for you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Crosshair stand. He crossed his arms, a scowl on his face.

"Such a pretty girl, so cute." You announced praises at her. Though not on purpose, you ignored Crosshair. She was on her back as you rubbed her belly.

"Why don't you get a room." He remarked, now obviously jealous of Batcher.

"Don't listen to him, Batcher! He's just grumpy and jealous." You were getting brave with your comebacks.

"I am not!" He was getting defensive.

"Shh, it's okay Batcher. Your dad is pretty cute too." You said, nuzzling her face.

"I am not her dad and i'm n-" Your words registered in Crosshairs head, the same time they did in yours.

You moved away from Batcher, the mood changed. It was silent for a moment, you looked at the ground.

"Okay I'll be leaving now." You stood to your feet, about to die of embarrassment. That was until Crosshair grabbed a hold of your wrist.

He forced you to face him. "Why?"

"Well gee Cross, I don't know. Maybe because I just said the dumbest thing ever. You think I don't know the feeling isn't mutual!" You confessed.

He stared for a moment, hand still gripping your wrist. You could tell he was contemplating something. That was until he made the last step forward and kissed you.

You felt light as a feather. He did like you back!

You could feel Batcher rubbing against your leg, but payed no attention to it. You were too lost in the kiss.

The two of you held each other, not puling away except to gasp for air.

"I guess I was wrong?" You panted out.

"You were far from being right." He just pulled you back in for another kiss.

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! I am so appreciative for your sweet comments HayBelle! Please let me know if there is anything you want changed in this fic!

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

[court-jesterr]

Hello! Could I possibly ask for a Echo/reader (Gn)

Setting could be 79’s maybe some angst with someone calling out echos “missing parts” after he rejects their advancements, and he feels a bit dejected about it. The reader (after insulting the other person) would take him back to the Marauder and comforts him (it can be smut or fluff either is fine)

Thank you! Have a nice day <3

He's More Than That***

Pairing: Echo x GN!Reader Warnings: Smut (my first so you must forgive any issues), Twi'lek woman being mean to our beautiful cyber-clone, cursing, filthy nonsense at some point, oral (Echo receiving), intercourse/sex, fluff Word Count: 5K Summary: Hunter, Wrecker and Echo waned a temporary reprieve from their constant stay in the Mauarder and decided you should be their babysitter for the night at 79's. Reluctantly you join and overhear a conversation Echo had with a Twi'lek who doesn't seem to take being rejected by him very well. After defending him and convincing him he deserves more, he shows you exactly what you deserve from him. A/N: When you requested this, anon I absolutely had just admitted- the same day!- that I was basically now an Echo girlie. I hadn't ever really noticed how adorable he was or how much I actually loved him until after the finale. Like I've always loved him, but I was never a girlie until now and now I simp. Also, I've never really written GN or smut so the two together really threw me for a loop lol so I hope this is alright for you! I do really appreciate you sending in a request, feel free to send in whenever you'd like!

Requests are open if you have anything you'd like to send in!

____________________________________________

The atmosphere of 79's was as smoky and dingy as ever, the blue/green lights of the neons hanging around illuminating faces and bodies as they moved about the bar. It hadn't been your idea to be here tonight, usually opting to stay back on the Marauder with Tech and Crosshair for the sake of serenity, but when the other three boys begged you to come along so that they have a designated babysitter who wouldn't get wasted, you couldn't deny them. Hunter wanted to get away from the ship to what he labeled "loosen up" which you knew meant he needed to get laid before the stress made him strangle his brothers. Wrecker wanted to drink some regs under the table and joke about how 99 was better in every aspect while listening to good music.

Echo, on the other hand, didn't give you a reason why he decided to join in on the outing. It wasn't his usual scene. Not anymore, anyway. As far as you were aware he also preferred the relaxed atmosphere of the ship; the two of you spending your time playing a game or watching a bad holomovie you'd downloaded on one of the datapads the Batch kept aboard for entertainment. It wasn't really like him to want to drink all that much, not since he joined Clone Force 99. He'd told you a few stories of him and his twin, Fives, trying to pick up a few women here and there while hanging around the clone bar back in the day but you never thought you'd actually see him here.

You peeked to the corner of the club, seeing Hunter cozied up with a pretty green Twi'lek woman- her legs draping over his lap as he kissed along her neck. At least he'd be less snappy on your next mission. Then you heard Wrecker laughing boisterously over the music as some reg tapped out, his squad mates dragging him away from the table. He'd be content too and it's almost as if you could already hear him hollering at Crosshair to regale his win over the regs. Resting your eyes back on the pale clone sitting at the bar independently, you watched from across the hazy atmosphere wondering if you should approach him or leave him to his thoughts.

You and Echo had a relatively close relationship. His reserved yet courageous demeanor was always something you had admired about him, and whenever he'd joined 99, you were among the first to buddy up with him. You knew exactly how it'd felt not to be "one of the brothers", even with how close you'd become with the Batch. So, it seemed easy for the two of you to cling to that shared understanding. You felt a smile reaching your lips at some of the memories you'd shared with Echo, a familiar ache settling in your chest and you determined that joining him at the bar was the best idea- even if not for him, but for yourself.

You made sure to clock him in the spot he was settled in before tearing your eyes away and descending the stairs to the main floor, losing sight of him through the dense crowd. Weaving through, apologizing to a few couples who were dancing or going about their "business" on the floor, you managed to emerge from the mass of people to find an empty bar stool- entirely devoid of your companion.

"What the-" you muttered to yourself under the loud music, "He was just here." Swiping a glance up and down the span of the bar, the friendly sight of a pale clone adorned by blue neons captured your attention. He seemed to be speaking to someone, though you couldn't quite see who it was from your current position so you stepped up closer to casually join the conversation when you overheard Echo decline whatever they had offered.

Curiosity got the better of you and instead of being a good friend, leaving the man alone to hopefully find some solace for the night, you stood just close enough to eavesdrop a little more. "I appreciate the sentiment, and you're stunning, don't get me wrong." His voice was as sweet as ever, a little solemn you could tell, but only if you knew him well enough.

Was she really all that pretty? Were Twi'leks the type of person Echo was into? Against your better judgment, you leaned forward onto the bar to glimpse the woman he had complimented, and your heart sank at how her pretty eyes glimmered against the neon lights.

Then you heard her laughter. It sounded as if she were laughing… at him. "Oh, honey," her accented voice cut through the music with its patronizing tone. "You can't honestly be refusing me when you look like," and you watched as her pretty eyes scanned the clone before her, gesturing lazily with her manicured hand, "that."

Maybe you'd heard her wrong. You'd definitely heard her wrong… right? There was no way in the galaxy that she was insulting him about his looks just because he told her no… right?

Echo stammered in shock, momentarily caught off-guard by her comment. It wasn't as if he'd not been used to people making remarks about his… unmistakable condition. He just hadn't anticipated the Twi'lek to be so hostile at his decline. "Well, I-"

"I mean, seriously? Look at you, you're a mangled mess." She let out an irked breath as if she were, suddenly, too good for the current conversation. You noticed her lean away from Echo, surveying the rest of the room full of clones, "I bet you don't even have all of the right parts to please anyone anymore, do you droid?" The Twi'lek's snide grin as she huffed out another laugh made your blood boil.

Droid?

Did she actually have the audacity to call a man of war, who kept her safe from the rising Separatist threats, a droid? She couldn't even begin to understand the horrors of war Echo had seen.

You heard a disparaging laugh bubble up from your friend, noting how his shoulders sank only a fraction, head inclining to the cup in his hand. His back had been facing you, turned completely to the attention of the Twi'lek in front of him, so you couldn't entirely make out his expression- though you'd felt as if you'd known him well enough to imagine the rueful smile etching his features about now. "Ah, yeah," he breathed with a soft, somber chuckle, "I guess I am a freak at this point, eh?"

"It isn't about that anyway," you finally chimed over his shoulder.

Echo's eyes widened at your raised voice, his hurried voice muttering your name in surprise. "What are you doing?" His brown eyes glanced between you and the Twi'lek nervously as you walked around to place yourself between the two of them.

"I don't think he'd have trouble pleasing anyone that had the decency to see past a few war scars. But clearly, that isn't you, you'd only be a waste of his time." The knuckles of your fingers began to ache because of your clenched fists and only at Echo's gentle touch did you relax.

The soft voice you'd come to rely on whispered past the music into your ear, "Cyare, please, it's not that big of a deal, really." Though his tone was even you could tell he'd been embarrassed that you'd overheard the conversation.

"It is though, Echo. You don't deserve to be spoken to that way just because you don't want to whore around for the night." You defended sharply, throwing a look back at him then quickly pinning the Twi'lek to her spot once more. "He has plenty of satisfying features, I'll have you know. He's funny, loyal, protective. He loves his brothers fiercely. He doesn't shy away in the face of danger. He's the first to answer when help is needed, he's reliable, and a wonderful man who deserves more than what most people give him."

Condescending giggles rippled over her pink lips as she covered them, a manner of mischievous glee sparkling in her eyes as she watched the protective display. "You defend him as if you two fuck."

A burn crept up your neck and into your cheeks at the allegation but you couldn't slow your words quickly enough before you said, "I'd be damn lucky if we did."

Echo's grip on your arm flexed at your statement, tentatively pulling you back toward him to de-escalate the rising frustration in you. "Cyare, maybe that's enough." He whispered again.

"You two are cute. No wonder he didn't want to sleep with me. Whatever," the Twi'lek waved you off noncommittally, then pushed herself off of the bar. "There are other handsome men around who need my attention." And with a subtle flip of her lekku, she merged with the swaying crowd.

Frustration simmered beneath your surface as you watched her disappear, more nasty remarks popping into your mind after the confrontation was over. "Stupid, nasty-"

"Cyar'ika," Echo's warm voice broke your hostility, his fingers raising your chin to meet his eyes, "what was all that about?" The pale brown hues narrowed in concern as if you had just been in a serious altercation on his behalf and were injured in some way. "It's not like that doesn't happen all the time, what with the regs calling us defective," his laughter dying as he noticed your soured expression.

You crossed your arms over your chest indignantly, "Just because people insult you, Echo, doesn't mean it's okay. You don't deserve to be treated that way. By anyone." The reassuring brush of his hand- passing from your chin to your shoulder- made you even more upset as if he were okay with being so dehumanized by someone. You pushed his hand away, not because you were offended by his touch- far from it- but because you needed him to take your words to heart. "And stop with the Mando'a, you know I don't understand what you're saying. I'm being serious right now, ya know? You're not a droid. You're you. You're Echo."

The slight tilt of his head made your heart lock up as he smiled at you. He didn't say anything, he just stood there, the pale brown of his eyes highlighted by greens and blues from the bar. It was something you two often did, communicate with just a few looks, something that Crosshair had hissed and griped about, witnessing it on multiple occasions. As the two of you stood there silently for a moment, you began to notice his smile shift and the color of his cheeks showed a little darker. "A-About what you said to her-"

Your entire world came raging back, the music suddenly too loud for you to think properly. "O-Oh right! The...uh-"

"F-Feeling lucky if the two of us-"

You hummed in agreement, with his sentence, not your earlier sentiment. Not that if you thought about it long enough you would've disagreed with your truthfulness brought on by impulse. In fact, you had thought about it quite a lot since meeting the Arc Trooper. You couldn't help yourself, really… he was quite literally amazing at nearly everything he did. He was fluid on the battlefield, quick to make decisions, soft, and compassionate when someone needed comforting. He walked around as if the horrors of his dreams didn't haunt him, opting instead to care even more for those around him. Echo was a man of honor and you marveled at how he carries himself. Not to mention being in close quarters with him, or any of the Batch really, only heightened your ever-growing desire toward him. It was practically inescapable to see someone either in their blacks, partially dressed, or completely naked while on the Marauder. You had seen Hunter and Wrecker shirtless on more than a few occasions and even once seen Tech remove his blacks to use the fresher, and nothing was really wrong with any of those instances. Though the one that lingered in your mind, that just kept nagging at you when you were particularly desperate to reach out and have his pale hand touch you, was when you'd walked in on Echo after he'd finished in the sonic. You thought Crosshair had been the last one to use the fresher and hadn't seen anyone else take a turn, but when you pressed the button revealing the cybernetic clone with just a towel hanging around his waist you froze. You could've acted normal about it, muttering an apology and turning around but you'd only stood there floundering.

And that was how you reacted in this very same instance- dumbstruck and speechless- as your cheeks and ears burned desperately.

Clearing his throat, jolting your attention back to his face, Echo rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. "Well, we can just forget about it. I'm sure it seriously threw her off when you said that, so that was a good tactic." He joked kindheartedly, eyes closing in that familiar charming, laid-back smile of his.

He honestly thought you were joking. Or just trying to defend him by saying anything that sounded good.

Maybe that was okay.

Maybe you could get away with not making anything awkward between the two of you. Maybe he saw how anxiously you reacted when he brought it back up and was gracious enough to drop it for your sake.

But was that fair?...

He deserved to know how handsome he was, just as much as any of his brothers- 99 or otherwise.

"Besides, like she said- whether it was meant as an insult or not- I'm a mangled mess. We can't have you wasting your good looks on me, now can we?" Echo tapped the tip of your chin with his hand gently, winking mirthfully at you.

He was being serious.

He didn't have any clue how desperate you were some nights to call out to him. Echo genuinely thought he was unwanted and he harbored it like a man devised for loneliness.

Never reciprocating his humor or obliging him in his self-deprecation, you remained stern, eyes locked with his handsome pale face. "I would fuck you right now in the middle of 79's if I knew we wouldn't get banned from the only clone bar on Coruscant."

Disbelief filled the clone's expression, eyes dilated to the size of Tech's goggles, his cheeks flushing a red bright enough to rival the neon lights. It was a terrifying leap to take, conveying these tight-lipped secrets you'd been carefully preserving but if it made Echo understand that he was just as desirable as any other man- clone, Jedi, or otherwise- then you'd shout it at every single person in the bar tonight. Your name fell from his lips in an airy exhale, frantically his eyes searched for any sign of banter or sarcasm but he was only met with decisiveness in your returning stare. "You..." he breathed again, deliberately slowing his racing heart, "You're being serious." At your resolute nod, brows furrowed and eyes stern, Echo looked down at himself critically. "B-But, I-"

"Do I need to prove it to you?" you provoked.

Echo's bewildered stare snapped back to your face, brows raised high in astonishment. "Pro-Prove it?"

Again you nodded with resolve. "You deserve it just as much as Hunter. I'll prove it to you right-" and before you could finish your sentence you were yanked forward away from the bar, weaving through the crowd. Echo's pale hand gripping your upper arm tightly enough not to lose you amongst the moving bodies. Confused but curious, you followed his lead.

Pulled to one of the single restrooms you felt yourself being slung inside, Echo behind you now, locking the door. The dingy lights were also a staple in the small room, the most of the illumination coming from the neon lights outside the high window. "Echo, what in the galaxy-"

"Say it again." His voice rushed as you turned to meet his urgent but dangerously narrowed eyes, the low tone startling you.

You knew he was referring to what you had said by the bar, but which part, in particular, left you timid to respond. "Say what again?" You finally managed, anxiously fiddling with a loose string on your pants.

The clone across the room looked positively possessed as he took only a single step toward you. "Tell me you want me." Echo pressed, the gravel to his voice making you shiver. "Please," his whispered demand nearly lost to the bass rumbling the walls.

This was certainly not where you had envisioned the night to go when you agreed to come out with your squad mates, but as you took a breath, you dove right into the dream. "I want you, Echo." And with the speed of an Arc Trooper, the man descended on you, pressing you into the wall. His body crowded around you, leaving no room to breathe in anything but him as his lips furiously pursued yours. Though he seemed desperate in his actions, there was a hesitation you felt in him. He was leaning against the wall by his arms, keeping himself just a hair's breadth away, afraid to touch you. Pulling back enough to speak against his lips, your hand found his cheek. "Touch me, Echo, please," your own plea a whisper.

His breath shook against your mouth as he faltered, "I-I'm afraid of ruining this…" His sincerity was the fear of a desolate man. "It's been so long… way before I looked-"

Reaching up beside you where his arms lay against the wall, gently guiding his hand and scomp-link to your body. "You can't ruin anything for me, I promise. I've been wanting this for so long, just touch me." A breathy exhale that sounded like a soft chuckle washed over your face at himself and to keep him from overthinking anymore you surged forward to press yourself against him fully- lips connecting.

The kiss you shared this time, was less desperate and hasty, instead imbued with passion and certainty as your tongue came out to greet his bottom lip. Mandalorian curses escaped under Echo's breath, voice trembling as he did, welcoming the dance you challenged. "I can't believe you want me… How could you want me?" Disbelief greeted you as you kissed him again trying somehow to get your affections across.

"How could I not?" Your simple reply caused him to look at you squarely, again searching your face as if he could find some hint of sarcasm or deception- but he found none. With a warm smile, you started unstrapping your armored chest piece and undressing from your standard issue GAR clothes. "Like I told the Twi'lek," you started as you set the clothes on a bar beside you, trying to maintain your composure with intense brown eyes observing you eagerly. "You're loyal, and kind. Funny as hell, adorable when you get embarrassed, charming when you aren't feeling too tired to banter around with me or your brothers," the last one made him chuckle a bit but it died off when the last of your clothes fell away and you stepped back up to him. "And no matter what's going on down here," you glanced down to where his codpiece sat, "I know you'll satisfy me completely."

"Kriff..." Echo stammered softly at the warmth of your hands reaching to unclasp his armor, a questioning look in your eyes. He grinned timidly, "I didn't think at this point you'd even feel the need to ask, cyare," to which you went at undressing him, yourself. Upon lowering yourself to the floor to undress his lower half, even with him imploring you to not get on the bathroom floor for him, you marveled when his blacks were pulled past his thighs.

"Well, color me surprised," your wistful voice made the clone groan in embarrassment as he covered his mouth with his hand, looking away bashfully. "Looks like you won't be disappointing anyone, will you, Echo?" You teased, glancing between the adorably sheepish look on his face and the solid cock that greeted you. Nothing amiss whatsoever. How could he be so insecure when he harbored this under his blacks?

Echo shifted on his robotic legs, anxiously, "There's no need for the commentary, cyar'ika," he complained, his voice deeper than usual as he stole glances at you between his legs as if he were caught watching something he shouldn't.

Smirking, you shrugged nonchalantly up at him, "Guess I'll just have to keep my mouth busy then." Your tongue splayed out over your bottom lip to experimentally lick at the head of his cock, reveling in the shaking gasp that escaped the clone.

"Oooh, k-kriff," Echo groaned helplessly, eyes screwing shut at the feeling blitzing through him like a barrage of blaster fire. The way his husky voice stretched out your name made your body ache for his touch.

You wanted more.

All of it.

All of him.

Your tongue danced along from the base to the tip a few times, placing delicate kisses here and there over his pale skin. It was sweet, watching him enjoy himself with such a small form of affection. The way his eyes fluttered every time your tongue swiped over the tip, how his teeth found purchase on the skin of his bottom lip to keep himself from making too many sounds. "Y-You gotta stop t-teasing me, mesh'la, please..." Echo breathed desperately, hand falling to the back of your head.

"Please, what, handsome?" The naïveté in your tone betrayed the way your eyes twinkled dangerously up at him and made him groan again, hand coming around to thumb your bottom lip, mesmerized by you.

"Please suck my cock." Desire finally blossomed in his eyes, the adorable timidness dissipating and giving way to a man who hungered for more. "I want to feel your mouth around me… I've wanted that for so long."

The admission surprised you, but you couldn't focus on it for too long before you acquiesced and took his cock into your mouth as far as you could before he hit the back of your throat. Echo choked out a moan at your motion, feeling the way your mouth warmed his skin, your tongue lapping around him. "S-So long… oooh, kriff. Wanted to feel your pretty mouth suck me off."

The filth murmuring from his pale lips was only fueling your lust as you hollowed your cheeks and started to bob your head back and forth on him. "I-I can't believe this isn't one of my-my dreams, oh fuck," Echo whispered as he looked down to meet your gaze, groaning at the hazy look in your eyes and whispering an astounded 'look at you' as his hand pressed into the back of your head. His hips thrust, against his better judgment, shoving himself further into your throat provoking a moan from the both of you simultaneously. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you relaxed, allowing him to fuck into your mouth at his leisure, the sounds he makes stirring you up more.

You pull back to catch your breath, a string of drool trailing from your tongue to his soaked cock. "You've dreamed of me sucking your dick, have you?"

"I've dreamed of many sinful things concerning you, cyare." Echo's voice was solid as he pulled you up by your arm, crushing his mouth to yours in a searing kiss. His tongue tasted yours for a moment, scomp pressing into your lower back so you were flush with him. The large expanse of his hand explored your body, mapping every scar and dip of skin to commit to his memory. "Your body is even better than I could've fantasized it; much softer, stronger." He whispered against your neck, placing warm open-mouthed kisses along it.

"Echo," you breathed out his name, his mouth dizzying you. "Show me what you've dreamed… I want to know."

The chuckle that escaped through his lips and fell over your skin sounded dangerous as if you asked him to show you his crimes. "Bend over for me then," the drawl of your name spurred a whine from you that made him grin and you spun around in his arms to place your hands steadily against the bar drilled into the wall. "Kriff, and I thought the sight of you sucking my dick was going to make me cum..." Echo muttered from behind you, his hand brushing down the curve of your spine, admiring the way goosebumps chased after his fingertips. "This view is sure to ruin me."

"Echo, please," you whined over your shoulder at him. The sudden change in power lost on you as you shifted your hips back to meet his, yearning for some sort of relief. Teasing him had done a number on both of you and you needed him to relieve you somehow.

"Looks like I can't deny how badly you want me now, can I, cyar'ika?" The cybernetic clone chuckled from behind you, leaning his tall body over your back to whisper, "Not when you beg for my dick like that." The warmth of his breath tickled the back of your neck and you moaned at the feeling. Without any more taunting, Echo finally leaned away from you to watch himself slip inside of you. "Shit… look at how you take me," he sounded nearly astonished by how his cock disappeared inside, appreciating the sight before him- second only to how you choked his dick.

"Stars, Echo," you moaned desperately, wincing at the stretch of him inside of you, panting as you took more as he pushed deeper inside. "M-More, please, fuck me Echo, please."

"Greedy, aren't you," Echo teased lightheartedly, chuckling at how you begged for him to take you. He seemed to be enjoying himself as he sank into you fully, his typical jovial attitude returning. It wasn't even as if he were teasing you in an expected sexy way. He was teasing you as if he caught you with your hand in the ration box, looking to take extras. The feeling of his cock dragging inside of you as he gradually pulled out to just the tip and then just as slowly pushed himself back in nearly made you sob at the burning fixation for him to shatter you. "I love feeling you like this. I can't believe you want this as much as I do. Kriff, you are stunning. Everything you do floors me." You continually whined his name as he spoke, moving in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace then you felt his hand brush up your back and grip your shoulder tightly as if bracing himself. "You're the reason I said no to the Twi'lek. I just want this, only this," he moaned as he pulled out one last time before stopping, whispering, "Only you," then hammering into you at a fracturing pace.

"Oh fuck, Echo!"

"That's it," Echo praised in his warm encouraging tone, your name falling from his lips like a tribute as he drives his cock into you over and over until you were almost screaming. His stamina was devastating, the force behind his thrusts calamitous as your body rocked against his. "What a breathtaking sight you are taking me like this, kriffing hells. I'm gonna cum," Echo stammered as his hips faltered narrowly.

You'd hardly been able to process anything he'd been saying, too deafened by the passion though you felt his hips shift a bit, slowing their pace and you begged, "Inside, inside please."

"Maker, y-you can't say it l-like that," Echo chided with a choked moan, "I-I," and with a shocked gasp, Echo's hips stilled as they pressed into you. The Mandalorian praises that intermingled with your name, the way his mouth fell to your shoulder, leaving open-mouthed kisses, everything coalesced to a white flash shooting through your body. A sob of his name reverberated off of the bathroom walls, echoing around the two of you as your release hit you. The force seemed to hit your knees and you faltered on your feet but were caught quickly by Echo's scomp-link arm, reeling you back into him.

"Careful there," the smile in his voice evident as he nosed at your temple, pressing a few gentle kisses along your cheek. "Just relax, I gotcha." The gentleness of his touches weaved around you, lulling you against his firm body and the mechanical parts cool against your hot skin. "Sorry, I know some of the pieces might be prodding you." He winced at the thought abruptly.

You shook your head in response, steadying yourself against him by wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling closer. "Perfect… You're cool, it feels good, don't move."

Echo was once again left silent by your unconditional favor of all of him. "You continually amaze me," his chuckle affectionate as he hugged you closer. "Now, let's get dressed and get out of this filthy place. I've been thinking about another holomovie we could watch."

[meshla-cyarika]

My Love, My Life

Pairing: Tech x Jedi!reader

Word count: 1,063

Tags/warnings: angst, grief/mourning, there's alot of signs of autism shown in Tech in this fic but less obvious ones.

Summary: After finding your name in the Imperial obituary, Tech doesn't know how to move on.

A/N: How many aura points do I lose for crying while I wrote this even though it's not that good? I was originally going to have a part two of the reader's perspective where it's reveal that oh my god you're actually alive, but I dont know whether to do that now purely because of how deeply Tech is shown to be grieving and I kinda don't want to take that away from him. Yk what I mean? But if people say they want a part 2 who am I to deny them? Also, yes, the title is based off of that one ABBA song cuz I was listening to it while I wrote this.

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

The Marauder was tingling with tension. The genocide of the Jedi, the betrayal of the Empire, the loss of Crosshair and the gain of Omega all happened over the course of twenty-four hours. Everyone had their own reasons to be on edge.

Tech's mind had been on autopilot for days. As soon as he saw what Master Billaba's men did to her and how quickly Crosshair became bloodthirsty for all Jedi, time seemed to stop. He had frantically typed on his datapad to try and find an explanation for such a brutal attack. When Tech saw that it was a full fledged genocide, he swore his heart stopped beating for a second. The only thing that kept him from having a panic attack was his advanced biology.

When they got to the Marauder and fled Kamino, Tech was instantly searching the Imperial database for the list of the dead. He never thought he'd have to check an obituary to find your name, but there you were. Jedi Knight. Executed on Lothal. The reference image they used for you was haunting. To see you stood there, just so alive, with the word executed next to you was enough to make bile stir in his stomach.

It didn't feel real. Tech looked at your information in the obituary again and again and again, but his mind just couldn't process the information. He felt like the only way he could believe you were dead is if he saw your body laying before him and he could never bring himself to do that.

Everyone noticed the difference in their brother. Even Omega, who hadn't even been with them that long, noticed his irregular behaviour. His brothers were puzzled by his reaction to their new living  situation. Out of all of them, Tech should be the least likely to get emotional over this. Then again, change has alway been a problem with Tech. It always takes longer for him to process things like this.

They began working for a trandoshan called Cid to do some seedy work. It was obvious why Hunter made them work for her, obvious to Tech anyway. It was because being sent out on missions that have various conditions is all they ever knew. The concept of settling down on a planet and ignoring the war raging on outside is foreign to them.

It's been ten months, three weeks and five days, since your death. Tech's behaviour hasn't changed and his siblings have assumed it's all because of Crosshair up until this point. Tech had been understanding with Crosshair on Kamino and held only mild hatred for his decision.

No. This is something else entirely.

Hunter's heart aches at seeing his brother's despair and having no idea what's making him feeling this way. Tech being Tech, will never say.

He finally snapped when one of Cid's workers, Phee, persistently kept making moves on him. Tech couldn't help the pure emotion radiating off of him in waves, as he shouted and yelled at the woman. It should be you laughing at his sarcasm, it should be you calling him pet names, it should be you with him. He just wants you and that's the one thing he can't possibly have and it hurts, it makes it feel like his heart has been ripped straight out of chest.

Tech stormed off to the Marauder which was a mistake, because everything in there reminds him of you. Your first kiss on his bunk, your late night conversations in the cockpit, your shared experiments at his desk.

He wants to scream and yell at how unfair everything is. Out of everyone in the galaxy, why you? Why did death have to take you? His perfect cyar'ika who could do no wrong and managed to cling to the little faith you had left through the most devastating battles.

Grief is something Tech has experienced only a handful of times. The feelings still feel new and uncertain and that unnerves him. Tech's emotions are usually filed away in organised compartments that only he understands. Now, everything is overflowing and overlapping. Everything is too much.

It's like a bad dream. He doesn't want to be here anymore. He wants the comfort of a familiar routine, back when his biggest concern was what days him and his cyar'ika would be on shore leave at the same time.

Tech sinks down into the far corner of the bunk room, ripping off his goggles and letting them clatter agaisnt the durasteel floor. He draws his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around his shins, before leaning his forehead agaisnt his kneecaps.

The last time he found himself in this position was back when he was a cadet. As much as he tried to ignore it, the regs had gotten to him. 99 had found him curled up in the corner of an embryo lab. He had said nothing at first, just sank down next to him and let him know that he was there if he needed him. Tech found himself wondering for years why he couldn't have been like everyone else, why the Kaminoans made his mind work this way. Tech would give anything to be "normal". He never asked for any of this.

A set of footsteps stomp their way up the ramp and Tech doesn't bother looking up. He's prepared for the demanding yells, the overbearing questions and the looks of outrage on his brothers' faces. What he isn't prepared for is someone sliding down the wall next to him. Tech almost flinches at the feeling of someone placing a hand on his back and tenses all the muscles in his body instantly. Eventually, his body goes back to being lax and a shaky sigh leaves Tech's lips, as he leans into his brother's side.

Tech doesn't want to talk about you to his brothers. If he talks about it, then it's real. Your body is rotting on Lothal and he'll never see you again. He can't face the reality of it. It's too real. He can't do it.

The hand on his back rubs soothing circles into his spine. I'm here, if you need me.

Someday, he will tell the tale of his beautiful cyar'ika and you'll become an honoured part of their mismatched family, even though they had never met you. You will forever live on in his heart.

[theromanticjedi]

Give me a cuddly wrecker after a long day, pretty please 🥺🙏

Okay, I honestly have no idea how to start this one so im gonna give you headcannons and if you want a longer story you can ask!

• Wrecker is the kind of man that wants to be held after a long day, but whis his size he just kind of pins you to the bed.

•I feel like he would be sleepy but would want to ramble with you first, either about his day, your day, or whatever. He likes to hear you talk.

•Also he definetly is starving after a long day so make sure he has snacks and can eat untill he is full!

• If your not the the mood to be crushed he would let you lay beside or on top of him.

• Depending on if his back is hutring him he might ask you to sit on his hips and massage it. I just know he loves to be at your mercy and feel you hands on him.

• If you have a job like a scientist, doctor, or something with paperwork he likes to cuddle up next to you and watch you work. (He thinks you look handsome when your focused)

• He loves it when you scratch his arms or shoulders or back, not even like scratching but softly dragging your nails over him.

• He defenitly sleeps with lula even if you're with him, he'll grab you and the stuffed tooka and hold you both in his arms.

Short story clip thing or whatever-

Wrecker would walk onto the ship after his brothers and immediately collaps onto the bunk and when he sees you walk past he'd look at you with pathetic puppy eyes "Suger, c'mere. Want to hold ya." When you do concede he'll pull you into his chest. "Missed ya today." He'll melt into you as you softly scratch his shoulders. He'll sleepy mumble before passing out, "Feels good..yer good. Love ya suger."

Sorry its so short, like I said, if you want something diffrent you can ask!

[dangraccoon]

The Beat of Your Heart

Hunter/GN!Reader

|| Hurt/Comfort ||

Word Count: 542

Content: hurt/comfort, migraines, drawbacks of Hunter's enhanced senses

Mando'a Guide cyar'ika - sweetheart, darling

“You’d better get back to the house,” Crosshair had suggested through your comm. “It’s a bad one.”

“I’ll be there in 20 minutes,” you answered. 

You explained why you had to leave to your boss, a kindly old Mirialan woman who owned the bakery you worked in. She understood but didn’t let you go until you had a small box full of the spiced cookies your partner loved so much. 

“I know they’ll be a bit much for him right now,” she said, waving off your concerns. “Save them for after, and maybe he’ll even let you have one.”

You rushed home, moving as quickly as your legs could take you, weaving through the people just starting to go about their day. 

You got to the house you shared with your partner and his siblings, tapping in the security key at the door. 

Just as the doors opened, you were face to face with Tech. 

“Oh good, you’re here,” he said, his voice hushed as he moved to the side to let you in. You passed the box of cookies off to Wrecker in the kitchen, who was doing everything he could to get ready to leave for work quietly.

“The usual symptoms - headache, sensory sensitivities, nausea - are all being partially treated by the cool temperature of the room, but it is only helping so much. His hearing is sensitive, but not in need of complete deprivation. Taste is off, though it is usually the first to go, along with his smell,” Tech rattled off, his voice becoming quieter the closer you got to your bedroom. “What’s most concerning at the moment is his sight.”

“Aura?” you whispered. 

Tech frowned. “Worse.”

The door opened with a soft whoosh, but it still made you flinch. 

“Darling?” The word crossed your lips with the faintest breath, but you knew he could painfully hear it.

A pitiful grunt came from the lump underneath the blankets. You pulled gently at the fabric until you found the man beneath.

“Cyar’ika,” he practically whimpered, the sound of his own voice clearly grating against his ears. “Can’t see.”

Your heart sank. Crosshair’s description of “a bad one” was an understatement. “What do you need, love? Touch?”

Hunter was quiet for a moment as you climbed into the bed, desperately trying to avoid that squeak he’d promised to fix.

He nodded. “Close?”

You nodded, despite knowing that he couldn’t see it. You settled yourself against the headboard, moving a pillow behind you to support your back.

Once you’d stopped, pushed himself up on weak, shaking arms and dragged himself into the position that brought him so much comfort. With his body curled up between your legs and his head against your chest, you wrapped your arms around him, barely touching him until he gave a small nod. “Is it going to be too loud for you?”

He shook his head before letting himself melt into you. The steady beat of your heart, your soft breathing, and the soft touch of your fingertips tracing tiny shapes on his back were all far more soothing than the near silence his brothers had placed over the house. If you could, you’d hold him close to you like this until the end of time.

Thanks for reading! - River

DangRaccoon Master List Tag List Form Read on AO3

Tags: @writing-positivelyexisting @nekotaetae @get-wr3ckered @jediknightjana @lucyysthings @unstable-kiwi @6oceansofmoons @l3xi3luv @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @winter-phoenix1995 @serenityselene @lokigirlszendaya @nomercyforthewarrior @ravenclawbitch426 @luna-the-lone-red-wolf @Padawancat97 @idoubleswearimawriter @wishyouthetest @orangez3st @flowered-bicycles @error6gendernotfound @techs-goggles9902

[neon-junkie]

The Tower

Summary: Gasping for air, unsteady hands, blurred vision - Why did this have to occur during the midst of battle?

At least Tech knows how to help.

Word count: 1.7k

Pairing: Tech x GN!Reader. Can be read as platonic or romantic.

Tags: Panic attacks, Anxiety attacks, Angst, Comfort, Happy ending.

Notes: I've had maaaaany requests for some angsty comfort with Tech. About time I wrote it! Based on my favourite tarot card - The Tower.

When the tower begins to crumble, it's bound to fall.

Built on an uneasy foundation, it was only so long until your walls began to chip away, and with it, the rest of the structure started to collapse.

And whilst you are somewhat used to that sensation, you're not used to this out-of-place timing.

"We'll regroup at the Marauder," Hunter's voice comes through your comm, strapped to your wrist. Tech is the first to reply, mumbling a swift, "affirmative," before returning his full focus to his blasters. He is, as always, quick and precise with them, saving ammunition until he's certain that his shot will be a hit - a trait that he's picked up from one of his brothers.

One by one, the droids fall, and whilst this is child's play, you seem to be struggling.

There's a pain in your chest, a weight, gripping at your lungs and crushing them from the inside out. Your hands, often steady with your weapon, are jittering more and more as every moment passes. And your throat fails to relax, causing your breaths to become shorter, faster, until your head begins to spin from lack of oxygen.

Knowing that you need a moment - a brief moment to set your bearings straight - you duck behind a crate and press your back up against it, barely looking up to watch Tech finish off what's left of your opponents.

This brief moment blurs on for an eternity, and the more that time passes, the worse you become. Your knees come up to press against your chest, palms gripping onto your weapon, as if it's somehow going to steady you during this emotional ride. The sound of your name being called out to you fades from your ears, and a ringing takes its place.

That is, until a firm hand finds your shoulder, and you flinch.

"Oh," Tech sighs, his fingers flexing shut as he watches your eyes meet his. Reddened cheeks, wide pupils, tears threatening to spill from your waterline - something isn't right, but it doesn't take a genius like Tech to realise that.

Rather than placing his hand on you again, Tech speaks your name in a soft tone. "Are you alright?" he brings the important question to light, and from your silent response, he takes it that the answer is no.

Once more, Tech mutters your name, and he's extremely cautious as he gently wraps his hand around your bicep, attempting to offer you some form of stability. "Are you hurt?" Tech questions, and to his surprise, you manage to shake your head.

"Alright," Tech nods, calm and patient. He pauses, his eyes wandering over your form, analysing the state that you're in. By now, you're sobbing, but there's still a washed glisten of fear in your vision, as if you're staring down at your worst nightmare - an imaginary ghost that he cannot see.

Tech crouches down, positioning himself on one knee by your side. His thumb subconsciously begins to rub back and forth against your arm. "I think I understand what's happening," Tech comments. "Although, I do not know how to help. If I can be of any assistance, then please, inform me how."

Sniffles fill the air after you suck in a few deep breaths. "I don't know," your words merge into one, but Tech manages to make them out.

"We need to remove you from this environment," Tech decides, forming the first steps of his recovery mission. "May I take your hand?" he offers.

Tech's heart softens out as you slide your hand into his, allowing him to pull you up with ease. You're a jittering mess, that much is obvious as Tech wraps your arm around his, and begins guiding you out of this hellhole. Thank the Maker that your opponents are down, else that would only worsen things.

"Our safest place is the Marauder. Are you comfortable with me comming Hunter, and asking him to pick us up?"

You instantly nod, knowing that the Marauder brings you a feeling of warmth and security. "But I don't want the others to see me like this," you blurt out, and Tech simply nods his head with understanding.

"Of course," he confirms. "I will lead us onto the shuffle, and keep the others distracted whilst you retreat to your private quarters. I'll inform the others that you need assistance, but sway them from interfering. From there, I'll join you, and we will set our next steps to recovery."

Tech follows up his plan with a simple, "how does that sound?" and lets out a pleasant hum when you agree to it. From there, his plan begins springing into motion, and before you know it, the Marauder is coming into your line of sight with the cockpit door lowered.

As always, Wrecker is waiting at the doorway with his hand extended, always eager to help you on board, but Tech politely pushes past and begins muttering something under his breath. Through Wrecker's fully armoured form, you can tell that he's taken aback, but backs off unquestionably, allowing you to scurry past and disappear down the hallway.

The second that you reach your dorm, the downpour of your tears breaks out into a thunder, and you barely manage to shrug off your coat and shoes before curling up into your bunk.

It takes Tech exactly twenty-three seconds before he's entering your dorm without a knock, seeing as you consented to it beforehand. "Oh dear," he coos as he enters, and his hand hovers over the lock before questioning, "shall I lock it?"

"No, thank you," you shake your head at the same time, and with it, Tech eases off.

A tall glass of water is placed on your bedside table, almost overflowing with how close the water is reaching the rim. Tech takes a seat beside you, and a hand comes to rest on your forearm. To his surprise, you shrug it off, only to wrap your hands around his waist in a desperate attempt for comfort. Tech accepts you, cradling you against his chest, hushing you in a soft tone.

"Let it all out," Tech coos, comforting you as the tears continue to fall. His hands stroke and grasp at your back, attempting to provide as much comfort as he can. Tech is somewhat familiar with this subject, although it's been a long time since he's ever had to support it, and an even longer time since he has received such support.

Tech's last occurrence was back when he was a Cadet. One of his fellow brothers broke down into a state of panic, and Tech, being the sweetheart that he has always been, could only hug them as the moment passed. 

Since the war broke out, it's rare to find a moment for your emotions to overspill, seeing as everyone is always up on their feet - Troopers and Jedi alike. You’re no stranger to the sight of seeing men hunched over at the end of battle, their form exhausted, stress lines present on their skin, and a look of desperation in their eyes. Perhaps they have also noticed that in you. 

The hard form of Tech's chest armour lies pressed against your cheek, and only when your panicked state starts to relax, do you realise how uncomfortable the plastoid surface is. With an uncomfortable expression, you move your head away, gazing up at Tech with tear filled eyes.

"It appears my armour has left its mark," Tech comments, earning a soft laugh from you.

"Remind me to never cry into your armour again," you swat back. Your hand trails over the indent left on your cheek, and for whatever reason, that pulls you from your dark thoughts.

Warm eyes meet yours, still laced with concern, his brows raised accordingly. “I will bear it in mind, if the… incident ever occurs again.” 

“I hope it doesn’t,” you state with a sigh. The sides of your fists come up to rub your eyes, attempting to fresh the life up in them. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” you apologise, your hands now finding comfort in your lap, fingertips fidgeting with each other.

“Do not apologise,” Tech responds with sternness. “Please, I will never accept your apology for something like that.” 

You can’t help but let out a chuckle. “Message received,” you say with a smile. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t happen again.” 

“And if it does, you know I will always be here to assist you. I am… no stranger to what just happened,” Tech explains, his eyes drifting from yours as his shoulders soften. Now, you’re no longer the saddest person in the room. 

“Care to share?” you question. 

“Ah, well-” Tech waves his hands as his back straightens. “It is not my information to share, but I can inform you that I have seen this happen before. Multiple times, really. Being a Cadet was never easy…” 

Your hand comes to rest on his forearm, a gesture that is not left unnoticed. “I’m sorry,” is all you can sigh. 

“Did I not just inform you to never apologise for such things?” Tech responds in a firm tone, yet there’s a playful smile on his lips. You mimic his expression, soon letting out a laugh. Tech’s hand rests atop of yours, giving you a firm squeeze before suggesting, “shall we go and see the others? Wrecker especially looked awfully concerned about you.” 

“Yes,” you agree with a nod. “I wouldn’t want to keep any of them worrying. I’m alright now.” 

“That, you are,” Tech confirms. He rises to his feet, and offers you a hand. You accept it, steadying yourself on uneven legs, your muscles still relaxing after a storm of negativity. 

Before exiting your dorm, Tech lets out a soft, “do not forget your water,” as he holds the door open for you. A glass of water in hand, and you head out to regroup with your squad, your friend close behind, always ready to have your back - if you ever need it.

[wanderinginksplot-writes]

Scorch + Happiness

Scorch x gn!reader (no reader description or pronouns, no use of 'Y/N')

Word Count: 3,900

Warnings: guilt, grief, depression, mentions of past mourning, mild PTSD, lying, references to morally gray characters, references to the Republic Commando book series, and spoilers for the series finale of Star Wars: The Bad Batch. (It is a happy story, I promise! The warnings are just a little dire.)

For the lovely anon who sent in this request: After the TBB season final may I request something happy with Scorch? I didn’t expect him to die in the season finale, I actually scream “Scorch no!” At my tv

Same, friend. In this house, we're in denial!

Masterlist

---

The knock on your door was unexpected and unwelcome. 

It had been a long week and you had used the first of your two days off to run errands. Groceries, assorted errands, and chores around your apartment had eaten away at one of your precious free days.

When night fell, you had opted to stay home, which wasn’t a wonderful choice because it only served to emphasize how lonely you were. Of course, going out to a restaurant or exploring the city had exactly the same effect. So had grocery shopping and errands, come to think of it…

Stars, who were you kidding? The throbbing loneliness was always there, no matter where you were or what you were doing. 

Another knock had you rolling off the couch and onto your feet. For half a second, you thought about putting on something to look even slightly more put-together, but you discarded the idea just as quickly. Whoever was outside the door was interrupting your evening, not the other way around. However you looked, they could simply deal with it. 

The person had started to knock again, but you opened the door before they could do anything more than give a single, half-hearted tap. 

“What?” you demanded, speaking before the door panel had even slid far enough open for you to see the stranger’s face. 

“I-” 

“Scorch?” you gasped, wrenching at the door panel as if you could force it open any faster. 

His handsome face broke into the ghost of his old grin. It was slow and shadowed, but so achingly familiar that you knew beyond all doubt that your riduur had come home to you. 

You had dragged him inside before remembering to give him a choice, but it gave you more privacy to run your hands over every inch of his face and torso. You still weren’t fully convinced that you were awake, but your shaking fingers hadn’t found a single plane that was anything other than the way you remembered Scorch. 

“How are you back?” you asked, voice trembling as hard as your fingers. “I haven’t seen you since the end of the war. No one has.” 

“I wasn’t on Coruscant,” Scorch explained haltingly. “I didn’t have a choice - I would never have left you if I didn’t have to.” 

“But it wasn’t just you.” You searched Scorch’s eyes, cradling his face in your hands. “Every trooper I know left. Everyone I know who’s with a trooper said they disappeared just when you did. And all we could do was ask each other why.” 

You didn’t realize that you were crying until Scorch smoothed away the tears with his thumb, but you weren’t actually surprised. If anything, you were shocked that you hadn’t started before that point. 

“Cyare,” Scorch murmured, pressing his nose against the crown of your head as he held you a little tighter. “I’m so sorry. I failed as a partner. As a protector. I should have been there. I should have been able to…” 

When Scorch trailed off, you glanced up at him. “Where did you go, Scorch? You said you didn’t have a choice. What happened to you?”

Scorch took a shuddering breath and started explaining things to you. How the troopers had been notified that the Jedi had betrayed the Republic. How the GAR was responsible for wiping out the Jedi. How all of the vod’e Scorch spoke with seemed to be utterly different than he knew them to be. 

He told you about working with Kal Skirata - a familiar name, even if you had never met him personally - to gather intelligence on the new Empire. Scorch hesitated a little before describing a cruel scientist named Hemlock, but he told you about being headhunted by Hemlock to help with a highly classified project in a place called Tantiss. 

Shaken as you were by his explanation up to that point, you were most taken aback when tears began to track over Scorch’s cheeks. “I never thought I would see you again, cyare. I never thought I would get out of there.”

“But you did, Scorch,” you reminded him. “You’re safe. You’re free.” 

“I shouldn’t be,” he said, straightening. The utter certainty in his eyes chilled you to the bone. “I did the worst thing any trooper can do. I betrayed my brothers.” 

You tried to argue, but he wouldn’t hear any of it. “You don’t understand. I did. I betrayed them all. I turned away when they needed me. Even worse, I had to prove my loyalty to Hemlock every day. I… I did terrible things.”

“Why did you stay so long?” you asked, mind racing to find a new angle to argue. If Scorch wouldn’t let you comfort him, maybe you could think of a different way to convince him. 

“The comms were monitored, heavily.” You must have looked as lost at his explanation as you felt, because he explained, “I couldn’t find a way to get the coordinates to Skirata. If I sent them from Tantiss’s comms, Hemlock could have found the clan. I couldn’t risk them. I thought about stealing a ship, but that would have sent the whole place into lockdown and we could never have gotten the troopers out.” 

“How many of them were there?” 

“Dozens.” Scorch shook his head. “Hundreds, maybe. Too many for me to take with me. It would have taken a large-scale effort.” 

His use of past tense made your stomach curdle, but you did your best to look expressionless as he went on. 

“I had to look loyal to Hemlock, and any of the dozen troopers waiting to take my place,” he told you, starting to sound desperate. His fingers tightened around yours, as if he thought you would pull away from him. “If I didn’t, it all would have been for nothing. There would be no way to tell Skirata, no rescue, no hope-” 

“Shh, Scorch,” you soothed, massaging his hand. 

Scorch chanced a single glance at your face before he buried his head against your shoulder. He muttered something unintelligible against your skin, but you didn’t want to ask what it was. When Scorch was in a Mood, he tended to talk himself into a spiral if someone didn’t break him out of it. Sev had been the best at it, but you could do it well enough when he wasn’t around. 

“It sounds like you didn’t have a choice,” you reasoned. “It’s horrible that you had to do bad things, but you didn’t choose to do them. It was an impossible situation. There was no right answer, no way to get out of it with your hands clean. It will take time to come to terms with everything, no one would argue that, but-”

“You don’t understand,” Scorch interrupted, pulling away to reveal features twisted into an anguished expression. “There was a kid.”

That made you pause for the first time. “A kid? Whose kid?”

“She was a clone, somehow.” Scorch shook his head slowly, wonderingly. “I think she was a true Fett clone - a non-augmented one. No increased strength, no heightened metabolism, no accelerated aging. Hemlock made a big deal out of her. Everyone made a big deal out of her.” 

You frowned. “Weren’t the Kaminoans worried about the original Fett sample degrading in quality since his death? If she really is a true clone, could they want her for another genetic sample? Especially since they can’t find Jango’s son?” 

“I thought that at first, but not anymore.” Scorch sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. The motion accentuated the new stress lines carved into his face and the red tinge to his eyes. When you glanced up, you saw silver glinting in his hair. “They’re discontinuing the clones.” 

You were so preoccupied with the changes in Scorch’s appearance that his words took a moment to sink in. “They- what? What do you mean?” 

“The Galactic Empire has a new recruitment strategy.” Scorch’s explanation was dripping with sarcasm. The name of Palpatine’s new order has been especially soaked in it. “They’re taking in natties. The clones who are left act as instructors to the mongrels or muscle for the officers.”

It took some effort to fight back your wince. You hated when Scorch and his brothers used the term ‘mongrel’ to describe non-clones, but now didn’t seem like the right time to bring it up. 

“Is the girl okay?” you asked quietly, trying not to sound anything other than curious. 

“As far as I know,” he confirmed. “She was on the platform with the squad who shot me.” 

“Excuse me?” you demanded, shooting to your feet. You had been studying Scorch’s changed appearance since he had gotten into your apartment, but you shoved his dark cloak aside to run your fingers as well as your eyes over his face, neck, and torso. “You were shot?” 

“Easy, ner karta,” Scorch soothed, grabbing your hands and cradling them in his. “Yes, I was shot. By another commando, part of a squad who went AWOL after we were ordered to kill the jetii. I was protecting Hemlock, who was trying to take the girl away from Tantiss. It made sense to eliminate the threat I posed before stopping him.” 

“You’ll have to forgive me if I still hold that against him.” You ran a critical eye over Scorch. “He must have missed everything important if you’re here now.” 

“No, he hit where he was aiming, my heart. Three shots.” 

Scorch must have anticipated that you were going to chastise him again, because he tugged gently on your hands until you collapsed onto the couch beside him. “I know, but my armor protected me.” 

“But how?” you asked desperately, searching his eyes. “I heard the new armor is terrible. Protection against gas and concussive blows, but almost nothing against blaster bolts.” 

“How did you-?” 

You waved a dismissive hand. “When all of you disappeared, anyone left on Coruscant who had been involved with a trooper ended up in the same circle. We were all looking for information. That’s a lot of collective contacts in the GAR and Senate. We couldn’t find any of you, but we took all the information we could find and made sure to pass it along to anyone else in the circle.”

Scorch shook his head slowly. “Clever of you all. No, the armor isn’t any good against blaster bolts. But I wasn’t exactly going to give up my Katarn armor, was I? Not when I finally had it painted like I wanted it.” 

You reluctantly returned Scorch’s teasing grin with a small smile of your own. Scorch’s obsession with painting and repainting his armor had toed the line between endearing and irritating… much like everything else about him. 

“Of course, you’ll have to start over now,” you pointed out. 

Scorch’s face sobered. “In more ways than one.” 

You squeezed his hands comfortingly. “What happened when you were shot?” 

“I knew that I couldn’t stay there anymore.” Scorch glanced away. “They wouldn’t believe that I was on their side, not at that point, and Hemlock had a blaster aimed at the kid. I knew he wasn’t getting out of there alive, so I let the bolts knock me off the platform.” 

Despite your best efforts, you let out a strangled noise at that. Scorch’s lips curled up on one side in a pale reflection of his usual grin. He knew exactly how you felt about heights. 

“I caught myself on the way down,” he reassured you, rubbing gentle circles over the back of your hands. “Used my ascension cable to connect to a few different places until I could get back into the lab and download an extra copy of the lab’s work. Tarkin showed up a little later, so I snuck onboard his Star Destroyer to get back to a civilized system.” 

“So… the Empire thinks you’re dead?” you asked slowly. 

“As far as I can tell.” Scorch glanced away, admitting, “I haven’t gotten in touch with anyone on Kyrimorut yet. They would be able to find out for sure.” 

“Kyrimorut?” you repeated, stumbling over the unfamiliar word. “I’ve never heard of it.” 

Scorch rubbed at his tired eyes. “That’s the point. It’s a secret camp on Mandalore. Skirata and his Nulls have been hiding there since the fall of the Republic. They take in clone deserters, hide them from the Empire. That’s where they’ll want me to go. Where I’ll need to go, if I don’t want to be pressed back into the Empire’s service.” 

Your heart stopped for a moment, your hand clutching convulsively at Scorch’s. “You- you’re leaving? Again? You just got back-” 

“Shh, mesh’la, shh,” he soothed. “It’s too dangerous for me to stay here. It wouldn’t be safe for me or for you. I have to go. But… you don’t. You can stay here, keep living your life. You’re welcome to come with me to Mandalore, but I know that’s a lot to ask-” 

“I’m coming with you,” you announced, standing. “I need to pack. How much should I bring?” 

Scorch was staring blankly at you. 

“Scorch?” you prompted, already putting together a mental list. “Focus. Do I need to bring the basics, or will they have them already? I don’t want to take up space with blankets and stuff if we could just get them there.”

“You’re… you’re amazing, ner karta,” Scorch said eventually, pressing a kiss to the back of your knuckles. “The best riduur I could have chosen.”

“I missed you so much, riduur,” you murmured, letting him pull you closer. “Now, blankets?” 

Much later, you had managed to consolidate all the necessities into a few packs for each of you. Scorch had been the one to insist on bringing more things. He swore it was because he didn’t want you to go without, but you saw the way he cradled an old pair of sweat pants like they were a stuffed animal. 

You didn’t have the space for everything, of course. But you packed the sweat pants anyway. It didn’t surprise you that Scorch would need some comfort after everything he had been through. You’d help him find it where he could. 

When you had finished packing, you glanced around for final necessities that you might have missed. The important thing was to leave no sign that you didn’t intend to come back, so most of your stuff was still where it always was. For some reason, that made it much harder for you to feel the urgency that shadowed your every step. 

“Should we leave?” you asked, reaching for the front door panel. Scorch hand stopped you, wrapping around your arm just above the elbow.

“Hang on,” he said, dark gaze scanning around the space like you just had. “I spent so much time thinking about this place. I want to make sure I remember as much of it as possible.”

You let him look for a minute or two, but the tension ratcheted back up. “Scorch? How are we getting to Mandalore?” 

“One of the clan will come get us,” he explained, “but we need to get to the Industrial Sector first. That’s the easiest way to disguise a cargo vessel.” 

“When will they meet us there?” 

He shrugged. “They’ll probably need a couple of hours after my call. The trip is usually around 12 hours, with an extra hour or two to get into position.”

“And when did you call?” you asked, already checking the current time. 

“I- Uh, I haven’t yet,” Scorch hedged, raising his hands defensively when you rounded on him. “I will, though!” 

“Why did you wait?” you asked, dropping your packs by the front door. “You could have called while we were packing. Unless… Why haven’t you called yet?”

He sighed lightly, reaching into a hidden pocket. He pulled out a small data drive, holding it up with a guilty expression. “Because of this.”

“The research?” you guessed, confirmed by his nod.

“I don’t know if I want to hand it over to Skirata,” Scorch admitted, with the air of someone admitting their darkest, most shameful secret. 

You frowned. Delta Squad had never quite understood the hero worship Kal Skirata received from his men, but they had never given you any reason to think Skirata was untrustworthy. “Okay.”

Scorch did a double-take. “Okay?” 

With a shrug, you said, “I trust your judgement.  I’ve never met Skirata and I don’t know what’s on that drive. You do. If you don’t want to give anyone the data, I assume you know what you’re doing.”

“Just like that?” 

“Just like that,” you confirmed. “But I have to ask: This was why you were on Tantiss. You wanted to transmit information to Mandalore for so long. Why are you hesitating now?” 

Scorch was quiet for a long time. Silence was an odd state for him, and it lasted long enough that you thought he might be permanently broken. Eventually, he shook his head, the movement small enough that you weren’t sure whether you were really seeing it. 

“Skirata wants to give us longer lives. If there’s anything he can do to make sure that happens, he’ll do it.”

You were trying to think of a tactful way to admit that you wouldn’t think that was a bad thing, either, when Scorch caught your gaze. 

“He’ll do anything.” 

You let the words die on your tongue. 

“This research,” Scorch emphasized, holding up the data drive, “involved a lot of vode. Skirata has been known to keep an ex-Seppie scientist or two on the payroll. If I give him this copy, he’ll give it to his scientist to check if there’s anything useful for the cause. They might decide the experiment is worth a second round of testing.” 

Scorch sat back down on your couch, leg jiggling incessantly. You stared at the movement as you followed him back across the room. “Even if they don’t want to keep it going, this is an automatic pardon from old Palpatine. He bankrolled the research. I’m not sure how much he already knows, but I’m sure he would want to know more. And he’d be willing to pay every credit in the Imperial banks to get his hands on this. I don’t trust anyone to fight that kind of temptation.”

“Even Skirata?” you said, more of a summary than a question. 

“Skirata is… independently wealthy,” Scorch explained. You knew without asking that there was much more of a story there, but you didn’t need to hear it just then. “But he has a tendency to think the best of his people. Earn his trust once and he’ll cover your back while you burn down the galaxy.”

“So if just one of the people around him realizes what that information is worth…” you reasoned slowly. 

Scorch nodded. “It’ll end up right where it started: with the Empire.”

“It’s your data drive.” You smiled sadly at him. “If you don’t trust them with it, better that it never leaves here. We can destroy it before they pick us up.”

“And if they don’t believe that I didn’t get the information? That’s the whole reason I was there. And Vau’s boys don’t leave until a mission is done.” 

You snorted. “There are a thousand things that can go wrong with a data drive. The Empire embedded some kind of virus. The drive itself was corrupted and you didn’t know before you used it. It was exposed to an electric shock aboard Tarkin’s Star Destroyer. It got wet. You sat on it in the wrong way-” 

“Okay, I get it,” Scorch said, waving you away as you came up with sillier and sillier things that could have happened to the chip. The grin on his face eased a tightness you hadn’t noticed forming in your chest. 

“I’m just saying,” you finished, settling beside him on the couch again. He took your hand, still staring at the pile of bags by the door, and you settled against him with your head on his shoulder. “And if they still don’t believe you, what are they going to do? Turn you away? Then you and I will just go find a place of our own, away from the Empire and Kamort.” 

“Kyrimorut.” 

“That’s what I said.” 

Scorch chuckled, but the only reply he gave was to dial a frequency from memory into his wrist comm. “Ordo? I’m on Triple Zero. Can you arrange a ride for my riduur and I? Our ship’s in the shop and I hear the shuttles off-planet have gotten very stingy with their tickets.”

“Scorch,” a voice greeted, an edge of relief clearly present. “Welcome back to the civilized galaxy, vod. Lucky for you, we were about to head out on a grocery run. We’ll comm when we’re close. Ten hours. Ordo out.”

“Grocery run?” you repeated, tilting your head to glance up at Scorch. 

“There are some supplies you can’t get on Mandalore,” he explained. “Not without attracting the wrong kind of attention. They make regular trips to the Inner Rim for anything that can’t be grown on the farm.” 

“Farm,” you sighed dreamily. “We’re going to live on a farm.” 

Scorch openly laughed at you. “I’ll remind you how excited you were when we have to butcher our first animal or fix a hole in a sock.” 

You made a face at him. “I’ve lived on Coruscant for a decade, Scorch. I’m so excited about the idea of seeing a plant that I could fly. Don’t ruin this for me.” 

He kissed your temple. “Okay, fine. Enjoy your fantasy. Just don’t be too upset with me when it’s different than you expected. Let’s get some sleep before they get here. If Ordo said ten hours, he meant it.” 

“I wish we’d known that before we packed the big blanket,” you grumbled half-heartedly, grabbing some throw blankets from the basket in your living room. 

Scorch made the bed for you both, using far too many blankets to make some kind of nest he insisted would be more comfortable than the comforter had ever been. 

You watched him, a soft smile on your face as he demonstrated all the benefits of a blanket nest. It would be nice to live on a farm, you thought. You never had before, so it would be new. But what you hadn’t told Scorch was how excited you were to be with him, without secrecy or worrying about who might be watching. You would be able to hold his hand in the open, tease him for telling one of his ridiculous jokes, kiss him when he did something sweet.

When you left the apartment eight hours later, the data chip was destroyed beyond all saving and ready to be quietly ejected while the ship was in hyperspace. The tight set to Scorch’s shoulders had disappeared and his smile matched yours. Even the tension of sneaking down to the Industrial Sector couldn’t lower the quiet happiness you shared.

Kyrimorut could end up being the worst place in the universe and you would cheerfully live there if it meant being with Scorch. Wherever you ended up would be perfect.

---

Author's Note - According to AO3, this is the 66th chapter of my soft clone trooper fics. A deeply cursed number for us prequel fans, but I like how this turned out!

I am still a little in denial that the clone trooper in The Bad Batch is Scorch at all, but I'm in FULL denial that Scorch is dead. I refuse to believe that. Anyway, this was requested almost a year ago, so… I am not fast.

Also, before anyone comes for me: no, Scorch's destroyed data chip would probably not fool the Nulls. I think they're smart enough to figure out that Scorch got the information. However, I also think that Skirata's single-minded loyalty to all clone troopers would be enough to make them overlook it.

[yoitsjay]

We Are One Together

Pairings: Hunter x gn reader

Summary: After being courted for so long, you finally understand why Hunter's been doing it. So you say yes

Warnings: a bit of shouting, angry reader for a moment, mostly entirely fluff

Word count: 1,287

It started with small little gifts, like boxes of your favorite sweet treats or savory meals, then little boxes with jewelry would end up at your door, or would be given to you by Hunter himself. By now you had enough jewelry to cover you from head to toe. You knew all of it was from Hunter, but you had no idea as to why he was spoiling you so much.

You had been quite busy today, you and Crosshair were working on making him a new hand, since you were a mechanic and were handy with metals and things like that, building him a hand would be no issue for you. And with Tech’s help to make sure that the hand would connect to the nerves properly, you had no doubt that Crosshair would be able to use this hand with ease.

However as you tinkered with the mechanisms, Crosshairs broke your concentration. “sorry what did you say Cross?” You asked softly, turning to look at him as you set your tools down. “Hunter’s been courting you… it's a Mandalorian tradition that leads to marriage… I asked if you were accepting his proposal.” Crosshair spoke bluntly.

You stared at him for a moment, blinking once before you burst out into laughter. “Hah! your funny Crosshair, i didn’t know you were such a joker.” You snorted, turning back to the metal hand on your desk. However, tech spoke up this time.

“Crosshair is surprisingly correct. Ever since Tantiss, Hunter has been courting you for marriage… I am safe to assume he never told you?” Tech asked, watching as you gripped your tools tightly before standing up. “No Tech. He did not.” You seethed, dropping your tools as you turned to look at the two clones. “I will be back.” You started before walking out of the hut you were working in.

You made your way to Lower pabu towards the dock’s where you knew Hunter would be fishing with Omega. When omega saw you she smiled, however you gave her a look, one she knew well, and she quickly packed up her rod and made an excuse to leave before running off. Hunter raised an eyebrow, turning to watch her run past you, his eyes widening as he saw your arms crossed over your chest, an angry look on your face.

“Uh oh..” He muttered to Batcher, who barked and ran off after Omega.

“So when were you planning on telling me that you were asking me to marry you? huh? at the goddamn alter?!” You raised your voice as you stormed over to him. Hunter rubbed his neck nervously after setting down his fishing rod, a chuckle leaving his lips. “No- i thought- uh… i thought you knew already.” He answered.

You guffawed, shaking your head as you pushed his arm and then poke dhis chest. “How am I supposed to know that you want to marry me if you don't. bloody. ask me!” You exclaimed. Hunter sighed,gently grabbing your hand, giving them a squeeze before placing them on his shoulders, his arms now wrapping around your waist.

“I’m sorry Cyar’ika… i should have told you… and asked properly for you to marry me…” he trailed off, looking away from you with a sad look growing on his face. You sighed, gently cupping his non tattooed cheek in your hand, turning his head so he was looking at you again.

“I would have said yes Hunter, if you just asked.” You whispered, pressing your forehead to his as his eyes widened. “What?” He asked, and in return you grinned. “I said, yes. And I would've said yes months sooner too. I mean don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the gifts, but I don't need jewelry and little gifts for you to know that I love you, and that I'm yours just as you are mine.” You whispered, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone.

“Really?” He asked, and you nodded. “I really didn’t want to have to find out from Crosshair of all the people that you were showering me with gifts and proposing with them. How many times have I accepted one of your gifts and then just never said yes? i mean im not a bird Hunt, i wont shake my feathers to tease you and then fuck another man.” You joked, hearing the slight growl that left his lips when you had mentioned another man.

You rolled your eyes, and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I will marry you Hunter… and now we don’t have to wait anymore, we could have the ceremony tomorrow evening if you wanted.” You breathed out, pulling back slightly as Hunter smiled.

“Or we could have it right now.” He said, and you gave him a quizzical look before he suddenly picked you up in his arms. A squeal fell from your lips and you gripped him tightly as he carried you all the way up to the highest part of upper Pabu, having commed his brothers to get Shep in on the sudden wedding, and to get other guests too.

And soon you and Hunter stood in front of each other underneath the tree, with Shep between you, a grin on his face. His words were blurred to you as you stared into Hunter’s eyes, he grinned at you, gently squeezing your hand to snap you out of your thoughts. “We’re really doing this?” You asked Hunter, and he nodded.

“Yes… as long as you still want to.” He stated, and you just grinned, “of course I do Hunter.” You whispered, raising his hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“Alright, repeat after me then…Mhi solus tome, we are one together.”

“Mhi solus tome, we are one together.” you repeated softly, glancing over at the crowd that had formed, seeing Omega’s bright smile only making you more excited

“Mhi solus dhar’tome, we are one when parted.” Hunter started again, and you stared into his eyes once more before repeating.

“Mhi solus dhar’tome, we are one when parted.” you breathed, squeezing Hunter’s hand.

“Mhi me’dinui an, we share all.” He muttered, taking a step closer to you.

“Mhi me’dinui an, we share all.” You grinned, also taking a step closer, your foreheads now pressed together as Hunter spoke the last phrase.

“Mhi ba’juri verde, we will raise warriors.” He muttered, and at that last part your cheeks flushed brightly. You had never thought of having children with Hunter… but these vows, these promises… you’d fulfill with Hunter.

“Mhi ba’juri verde, we will raise warriors.” You repeated finally, before pressing your lips to Hunter’s, wrapping your arms around his neck as he wrapped his around your waist again, deepening the kiss for a moment before pulling back as the people of Pabu cheered, as did the bad batch.

Hunter then gently slid a wedding band, engraved with the vows you just spoke, on your ring finger, and you did the same, raising an eyebrow towards him. “Where’d you get these?” You asked him, leaning into him as you walked away from the tree and through the crowd. “I had Tech make them for me… this may have been slightly planned.” He chuckled, and your eyes widened before you slapped his shoulder.

“Hunter!” You scolded, your anger melting into laughter as he laughed with you, sweeping you into his arms as he carried you to his- now your shared home.

“Let’s go make some little warriors.” He whispered in your ear, a soft squeak escaping your lips before it was silenced with a kiss as you reached your home.

It was definitely one way to get married… but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[verybadatwriting]

To Be Held

Summary: Reader is injured.

Warnings: Angst, blood, and wounds

Notes: Thank you so much @arctrooper69 for the request and @promptsbytaurie for the prompts! :D

Prompts:

“You did so good. Don’t worry, you-you did so good.”

“Hey, hey, shhhh. Shhhh. You’re okay.”

“I know, I know it hurts.” 

Gn!reader

Word count: 1,019

Tech often held you like this. Your head tucked against his neck and shoulder, his arms wrapped around you, holding your chest to his, you were safe. Sometimes the two of you were curled up on your bed, sometimes you were seated atop the Marauder, Tech quietly mumbling about the stars, but never before in a pool of your own blood. You tried to drift away in these good memories, let go of the pain.

A surge brought you back. Tech’s hand pushed against the wound on your upper back. The blood quickly seeped through his fingers.

“Aah.” You writhed at the pain. 

“I know,” He said, “I know it hurts. Just stay awake. Please.” 

“Did…” You started to ask. “Did we do it?”

“Yeah,” Tech said after a moment, amazed you could be thinking of the mission while bleeding out “You did it. You did such a good job.”

“Really?” You asked, a slight waver to your voice.

“Don’t worry, you–you did so good.”

“I-is anyone else… hurt?” You managed between shaking breaths. 

“No,” Tech held you tighter. “The rest of the Batch is fine. They’re on their way. They’ll be here soon. You’ll be okay…. You’ll be okay.”

“Oh,” You said, taking another deep, shaky breath. “It’s that bad?”

You leaned back, pushing away from him so you could see his face. His front was soaked with blood. Your blood. You looked up at his eyes, but they were focused on the horizon. 

“They’ll be here soon,” He repeated. He sounded like he was trying to reassure himself more than you. 

“Hey.” You said, reaching a hand up to his face and tilting it down to face you. Your bloody fingers left four lines on his cheek. He lifted his similarly bloody hand from your back and grasped your fingers. 

“We need to keep pressure on the wounds,” He said, “Or else… or else you’ll …”

You nodded, and allowed him to pull you closer. His chin was tucked on the crown of your head, your cheek pressed to his collar. Seeping into the ground was your blood. Too much of it. 

“Tech,” you started, surprised at how weak your voice sounded, “I love you.”

“Shh, no, no. Don’t talk that way.” He shook slightly as he soothed you. “Shhh. Shhh. You’re okay.”

“Please,” You pleaded, “Just say it back.”

A few moments passed. Tech seemed to be mulling it over, coming to terms with something. 

“I love you, too,” He eventually whispered, as if the words were so fragile that saying them too loudly would shatter them. 

Reassured after hearing that, your breathing changed. The slow shaky breaths became shallow, and too fast.

“I love you,” Tech continued. “And all the little inside jokes we have. And how you can always find a way to make Omega laugh. And how… how you listen when I ramble. And when you talk about the future and your eyes fill with life. And when you smile.”

When he said that you smiled weakly against his shirt. Listening to him, you almost didn't mind the cold numbness spreading from your fingers and toes. Or the pain in your torso. One again, you could be lost in his voice. 

Your body was slowly shutting down in a last ditch effort to save you. Your entire being went numb, every muscle and tendon relaxing. At least that meant your breathing finally slowed. Your eyes drifted closed. The coppery taste of blood faded, along with the burnt smell from the ash and rubble. 

“Hey?” Tech squeezed you tighter. “Stay with me. Please.”

As your hearing – your last lifeline to the world of the living – faded, you faintly heard the sound of the Marauder flying low. 

Then there was nothing but darkness and a dull ache that you couldn’t quite place. You felt it deep inside, like you had been gutted, and smoldering coals had replaced your insides. It was the deepest grief you’d ever felt. It started to fade away, but you heard a familiar voice.

“Stay with me. Please.”

Tech. You thought. I need to get back to Tech. 

Although it felt like your limbs were made of lead, and weighed down in tar, you fought. This dark abyss wasn’t it for you. Not yet. You tore yourself from the inescapable stillness, despite the coals burning from inside.

You had to see Tech again. Hug him. Hold him. Tell him it would be alright. Save him from the pain you’d seen in his eyes.

After what felt like a lifetime, you heard something. It was muffled voices, ones you recognized, which slowly became crisper. You smelled sterile medical supplies, and felt your chest rising up and falling down with each breath. 

Pain accompanied consciousness. You could stop fighting, slide back into the abyss, but that would mean never seeing Tech again, so you soldiered on. 

With one last push you flung your eyes open, and you were back. Breathing, living, hurting. You’d escaped from the void, and you were back in your body.

You turned your head, and saw Tech in the seat next to your bed. He hadn’t changed his clothes, as evidenced by your dried blood. You didn’t know if it would ever come out. He had a faraway look in his eyes. The same one he had while waiting for the rest of the Batch to come save you two.

You shifted slightly, and he snapped to attention at the sound.

“Cyare,” He whispered, reaching out to take your hand. “Welcome back.” 

His eyes scanned your face, as if he was trying to make sure you were real. You squeezed his hand to reassure him.

“I am,” You said, voice scratchy and weak. You cleared your throat, which triggered a sharp pain. You let out a small gasp.

“Are you okay?” Tech asked, his eyebrows furrowing together. You looked at the lines in his face, deepened by a lack of sleep and surplus of concern. Reaching one hand up, you cupped his face.

“I’m fine, love,” You smiled up at him, and he returned a weary smile.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

The Plant Prowler of Pabu

A/N: I’m scared that Pabu is going to be toast after this week, so I wrote a little fluff to make myself feel better. Also, this is the first time I’ve been able to finish a fic in six weeks, so… yay me!

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader (GN)

Rating: T (but MDNI as always)

Wordcount: 2.1K

Warnings and tags: mild language; fluff; a kiss; spoilers for The Bad Batch season 3

Summary: Exploring the island during his first morning on Pabu, Crosshair encounters a mastermind of botanical crime: you.

Suggested Listening: 

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

Whoever said, “It’s darkest just before dawn” had clearly never woken up to go for a walk before sunrise. Even if Crosshair hadn’t had enhanced vision, it would have been easy for him to navigate his way down to the beach of Pabu in the dim half-light. Hunter had wordlessly watched him exit the Marauder, pretending to still be asleep, but Crosshair knew that his brother would have drawn his vibroblade in a flash if he’d even glanced sideways at Omega.

Crosshair didn’t exactly blame Hunter for his caution, but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow. The squad had arrived on the idyllic island the previous day, and Crosshair was immediately swarmed by a horde of curious locals. With Hunter determined to keep Crosshair in sight at all times, there had been no escape from their onslaught of hospitality, and by the time the celebrations had died down, Crosshair had been clinging to the tattered threads of his patience and sanity.

It was a hell of a thing to go from barely speaking to anyone for months on end to suddenly being plunged into the midst of a vibrant and chaotic crowd of nosy spectators. He’d escaped to the Marauder at last and pretended to sleep, keenly aware of Hunter’s eyes on him. He’d spent enough time under the microscope in the past several months, though, and he was ready for some privacy.

And so it was that he found himself wandering down the empty terraced walkways of Pabu, making his way to the shoreline in the pale gloaming. He didn’t encounter a single soul as he walked—barring the ubiquitous moonyos that seemed to frolic across the island at all hours. Pabu was the sort of place that seemed too flawless to be real. Too flawless to last.

Not quite as flawless as it seems on the surface, he acknowledged as he turned down a path that snaked through one of the sections of the island that had yet to be rebuilt after the catastrophic sea surge he’d heard about countless times at the welcoming party the previous night. The buildings had been reduced to rubble, and judging by the weeds sprouting in the cracks of the walkway, the locals tended to avoid this particular part of the island.

Perfect.

The gentle breeze off the ocean was chilly, and he told himself it was the reason his hand trembled more than usual that morning. He shoved both hands deep into his pockets as he navigated the last few levels before he reached the beach. As he stepped onto the sand, a gust of wind buffeted against him. It was bracingly cold, and it smelled like salt and aquatic vegetation and wet earth, and he closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply and focusing on the sensation.

When he opened his eyes, a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision had him snapping his head to the side. He froze. A figure meandered slowly down the beach, sticking close to the bottom of the hill where the lush foliage grew thickly right up to the edge of the sand. He was certain you had spotted him, but you didn’t immediately acknowledge his presence.

He watched for a moment as you paused and stooped down to examine one of the plants, then carefully plucked a few bunches and laid them in the basket you carried. Bizarre. What the kriff was this person doing out here so early? Nothing innocent, that was for damned sure. Why would anyone sneak down to such an isolated stretch of the beach at this obscene hour if they didn’t have nefarious intent?

Aside from me, obviously.

He squinted slightly. Even with his enhanced eyesight, it was dark enough, and you were far enough away, that it was difficult to make out your features, but he was reasonably sure you hadn’t been at the party the night before. 

Hmph.

He turned and walked the opposite direction, away from the person who’d had the audacity to interrupt his solitude by getting to the beach first. Better not to get involved.

Crosshair took a different route the next morning, arriving at the beach just as the sun rose. As bad kriffing luck would have it, you were exiting the beach just as he arrived, and your paths inevitably intersected. He braced himself for a conversation, but you simply met his eyes and nodded quietly as you passed him.

He suppressed a sigh of relief. Stepping aside to make room for you to pass on the narrow trail, he couldn’t help noticing that your basket was filled with a variety of neat bundles of leaves and twigs. Odd, but your hobbies were none of his concern. Even if they did involve herb rustling and grand theft shrubbery.

He continued his path down to the shoreline and wandered along the water’s edge, staring out at the horizon. Out of the corner of his eye, he could still see your solitary figure making its way up the steep slope and into Lower Pabu. He was now completely sure that you’d not been at the welcoming party, nor had he encountered you in the village. It wasn’t that surprising; after all, hundreds of people lived on the island, and he wasn’t in any particular hurry to meet them all—or any of them, if he were honest.

Of course, he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Wrecker had flatly refused to allow Crosshair to isolate himself, while the gregarious mayor Shep Hazard seemed equally dedicated to the twin causes of thrusting Crosshair into the community and plying him with as much fruit as he could eat in a lifetime. He was starting to feel a tiny surge of violence every time he saw a jogan fruit.

On the third day, Batcher woke up with Crosshair and scrambled out of the Marauder, bounding ahead of him down the ramp and then turning to wiggle her entire body in anticipation as he followed. He let the lurca hound pick the path that morning, not bothering to hide his thin smile at Batcher’s endless curiosity and enthusiasm. She crisscrossed the walkways incessantly, sniffing and exploring, chasing the moonyos playfully down the hill, investigating every nook and cranny of the village, and easily running five times the distance that Crosshair traveled on their way down to the water.

The beach was empty this morning, to Crosshair’s relief. At last, some peace and quiet. Or at least as quiet and peaceful as it could be with Batcher rocketing back and forth across the wet sand, grunting and huffing as she charged into the surf and back up to Crosshair, crouching into a bow as she tried to entice him to play with her. When he didn’t immediately comply, she took off chasing a flock of seabirds, scattering them into the air in a cacophony of indignant squawking.

She chased the birds down the beach, barking joyously as she splashed through the surf. When the hound disappeared around a bend in the shoreline, Crosshair sped up slightly, not wanting to risk Omega’s wrath if anything happened to her pet on his watch. As he rounded the bend, he was greeted with a most unexpected sight: Batcher was lying on her back on the sand, writhing with delight as you rubbed her belly.

Your basket was overturned, and all the neat little bundles of herbs were strewn across the sand. It wasn’t hard to deduce the instigator of such carnage. Batcher spotted Crosshair and immediately jumped up and shook the sand off herself before rushing to greet him.

“Down,” he said sternly as she jumped up and swiped at him with her massive paws.

She dropped obediently, and trotted along next to him as he approached you. You’d already begun picking up your fallen bundles of leaves, and he quickly bent to assist you.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled.

“No harm done,” you replied, shaking a bit of loose sand out of the bundles before you dropped them into your basket. “They all get washed before I hang them up to dry anyway.”

“So you’re not just engaging in botanical heists for the adrenaline rush?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah, it really gets the blood pumping,” you replied, deadpan. “My day just doesn’t feel complete without a little horticultural larceny.”

“I can see you like to live on the edge,” he said with a tiny smile. “The Plant Prowler of Pabu.”

“And I would have gotten away with it, if it weren’t for a mysterious stranger and his meddling dog.”

He liked you. Damn it.

Crosshair didn’t see you for the next several days. He assumed you’d moved your criminal enterprise elsewhere on the island, and after the team returned from Barton IV, he didn’t feel the same need to escape the Marauder as he had previously. Still, he wasn’t sleeping particularly well, and after an excruciatingly restless night, he slipped out of the ship not long before dawn and wandered aimlessly down the streets of Pabu until he found himself in the unstable section he’d discovered on the first day.

As he picked his way through the ruins, he spotted movement two terraces below, and he grinned. Forcing himself to walk casually so you didn’t suspect how pleased he was to see you, he sauntered down to your level, only to find you ripping weeds up from between the fragments of pavement with uncharacteristic abandon.

“What did those plants ever do to you?” he asked.

You must have spotted him before he arrived, because you didn’t even flinch at the sound of his voice.

“Invasive species,” you replied. “I try not to over-forage, but in this case, I’ll make an exception.”

“And I thought your crimes only extended to vegetational theft,” he drawled. “I had no idea you’d escalated to floral murder and agricultural vigilantism.”

“The hero Pabu needs,” you said with a smile that had no business being as charming as it was, considering you were currently covered in a fine layer of dirt and assorted bits of leaves and twigs. “If this plant gets established on the island, we might never be able to eradicate it. It will outcompete the native plants and could cause significant disruptions to the ecosystem.”

“How altruistic of you,” he remarked drily.

“Not at all,” you laughed. “It also happens to be delicious.”

Crosshair stooped down and pulled one of the plants up by the roots, examining it closely. “It’s on sight, then.”

“Exactly. No mercy.”

As the first rays of the sun appeared on the distant horizon, you packed the large bundles of weeds into your basket, then stood and dusted your hands off on your trousers. You stretched a bit, clearly a little stiff from your labor. Impulsively, Crosshair spoke.

“Want to watch the sunrise with me?” You looked surprised at his offer, and he cleared his throat, looking awkwardly away. “Or do you turn into a meiloorun if you stay out past dawn?”

“Yes,” you said. “I mean, no. I mean, yes, I’d like to stay. No, I don’t turn into a meiloorun.”

You bit your lip and stared down at the bundle of weeds in your basket, poking at it ineffectually as you muttered something unintelligible under your breath. Stifling a laugh, Crosshair climbed up onto the crumbling half-wall of a destroyed structure and extended his hand to help you up after him. You scrambled up and sat down next to him, gazing out at the tranquil ocean as the sun began to paint the high clouds in brilliant shades of gold and pastel.

“Not a bad view, is it?” you asked quietly. 

“Definitely worth waking up early,” he replied, watching your face as the light caught on your cheekbones and reflected in your eyes.

Without making a conscious decision, he lifted his hand and brushed a little loose dirt off your cheek. His damned hand trembled, and he mentally cursed. You didn’t seem to notice the slight tremor, though—or if you did, you didn’t say anything about it. Instead, you turned your head slowly, grazing your lips across his fingertips as you met his eyes. It seemed the most natural thing in the galaxy to continue to trace the line of your jaw until his hand curled around the back of your head.

Your lips were soft and warm in the cool breeze, and you tasted like sea salt and dew and something he didn’t quite recognize. Something new. He liked it. You leaned into his kiss, and when at last it came to its natural conclusion, he drew in a shaky breath.

“Hi,” he whispered. “I’m Crosshair.”

---

Want more Crosshair? I have another Crosshair x Reader ficlet here!

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