#the bad batch b-side

[tonycries]

FAST N' FURIOUS!

Synopsis. When he’s furious, he’s fast. And rough.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, angry s, manhandIing, they’re FÉRAL, full neIsons, headIocks, creampíes, cúmplay, GOJO’S POWERS, fíngering, chokíng, spítting, p talking, true form Sukuna, dp, p sIapping, breaking the bed, ratio technique, exhíbitionísm (Geto), rough s, they’re big, dumbíficatíon, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Heheh hope you have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - BACK-BREAKER.

CRACK!

It takes a second for Toji to even register the splintering noise let alone realize that he’d just shattered your bed into almost a thousand pieces. Darkened eyes narrowing- a bad gig today and now this?

“Mmm, Toji–” You’re turning your dazed head back to whimper oh-so-cutely. Lips wobbling as you take in the state of your poor bedsprings, “You broke the- oh!”

And Toji Fushiguro didn’t care.

He didn’t care if your bed was in one piece let alone sagging on one side. And before you can even flutter your teary lashes, you’re finding yourself flatly sprawled on your bedroom floor. Spine arched into a curve, legs smeared open by his strong knee.

“Be good for me, girl.” One of his rough, scarred hands creeps up on your neck to manhandle you still. He spanks his puffy n’ red tip down your core with a dampened pap! Voice fuming, “Your husband’s had a baaad day.”

Wait…husband?

Your poor mouth dangles open to ask what he meant by that- but the only thing sneaking out is a shrill whimper. “Fuh-fuck! Oh my god, why are you so big-”

Because Toji’s sheathing in a few of his hard, solid inches in a single thrust. Barely giving you time to adjust, barely letting you even breathe prior to holding onto your rapidly pulsating throat n’ dragging your body up and down in harsh jerks to meet his. 

“Fuck. Shut up.” He’s channeling out a seething hiss, every one of your sweet sounds made his large, weeping tip twitch. Achingly. “Shut up and take- it-”

It’d been nearly hours now since he’d come back from some mission gone awry n’ taken it out on your poor, sensitive cunt. Now tenderly weeping out every time he furiously pours out another batch of wadded pre. 

Toji’s barely even moving in his usually looong, teasing strikes that have you squirming endlessly. Right now he’s fucking you through the frigidly polished hardwood with rough, pummeling half-thrusts that have his own pelvis burning bright red at the slamming impact. 

And you’re so sensitive from it. 

Sobbing, “B-but it’s so much.”

“Shit- if this pretty pussy can’t take it then no one can, doll.” Toji has the audacity to tilt his head sexily and whistle. The wet underside of his shaft rawly inching deeper to stretch your hole wiiidely. “What is it- want me to beg? S’that it? You want me to beg, mama?”

Whining, his rude restraint on your windpipe grows stronger - and so does his cadence. 

With a grunt he swats his plush balls against your cunt and watches as the contact makes your eyes stupidly whirl. “N-ngh- Toji–!”

“Heh- alright then…please.” Grinning, he’s so mean in the way he’s leaning his muscular body down so that you’re dealing with the brunt of his weight. “Please. Hold those legs up f’me and ngh- let your husband blow off a lil’ steam.” Mockingly, annoyed - but not at you, never at you. “Please.” 

Leisurely, you’re only half-way registering what you’re doing once your hands instinctively dive down to perk the inner part of your thighs up. “Like this?”

“More.”

Struggling. “This?” 

He snickers, “Difficult? Need me to fuck ya into the hah– floor instead?” He already was. Letting him throw your jittery legs onto his shoulders and bending–“Not enough, my wife.”

“Wh-what?!”

“I said…” It’s such a primal mating press right then n’ there on the ground. Your thighs on his deltoids, your ass against his washboard abs. 

Toji pliably uses his inhuman strength to roughen you up all he wanted, the fleshy curves of his muscles flexing as he did. It was so mouth-watering to ogle him - all veins of his neck popping out, pecs tense, temple glittered with a thin line of sweat. Easing inside. Groaning, “-not enough.”

“O-oh mmm–” You’re steadily melting as his rugged length angles a straight whack! against the cute target of cute g-spot. Still so delicately bruised from all those rounds prior. “There! Right- ngh- there, baby–”

So deep and big inside of you now that his cocktip was stretchin’ the areas of your walls until you’re damn near seeing stars. 

Swabbing every slick orifice with his reddened, blushing crown, he’s so far gone that the way you twist your hands into his beefy forearms and claaaw your way down only makes him let off a dopey smile. “Tch- like kitten scratches, mmmm- yeah yeah, try harder, doll.”

Harder. Faster. And it was all because of that damn gig- what that damn Shiu had said…

It feels so raw having him inside you, spank after spank you’re reeling from- easily making a complete mess of you. 

Hiking his naturally sculptured thighs further upwards to press a deep snog against your cervix, you’re feeling the spheroid of his mushroomy tip surface the spongy layer of your womb and you sob. 

“Harder. C’mon now- harder.” Toji bites out at you, the honed points of his canines gleaming with a layer of slobber. He was drooling at the repeatedly squelching music of your hot, dripping pussy now. “Oh, the lil’ kitty’s purring for me now…h-heh. Is she gonna cum—?”

He knew the state of your sweet, syrupy cunt more than you did. 

Because just then you’re feeling the white-hot sparks swimming near your navel, thighs shaking ‘round Toji’s gyration hips. You can only nod and nod and nod, “C-close! Not gonna last…”

“There there, mama.” He flicks the pinkish edge of his tongue over his scarred lips, just the sight of you all wet and leaking over him maddening. Flopping his tastebuds out to taste your salty tear-tracks, “Cum for me.” Before you can utter a word, his free hand spanks down on your weepy cunt and dips a thumb past your slit. Treating your quivering clit like a button- one strike on your pretty nub, one strike to your g-spot. “Cum. Harder now.”

You don’t even realize you do until Toji’s gasping. 

Until he’s grinning, until his painfully rock-hard cock bulges just a few centimeters even bigger at the sight of your mouth gaping in awe. 

Toes curled, mouth flapping, overstimulated to tears. “T-Toji–! Cum…ing…”

Your slick-sprayed thighs plaster to the side of his obliques, front glued to his ladder-like abs as he sliiides down between vicious thrusts. Leaving no room for you to collect your breath. Leaving no room for you to even start thinking again—

“We haven’t broken the floor yet, doll.” Toji rustles his heady breath over your features, feral. “And Shiu’s gonna see what happens when he tries ta flirt with my wife.”

Oh. 

♡ NANAMI KENTO - A reeeal man

You had your mouth gagged with Nanami’s silky yellow tie, your eyes curling to the back of your head. Jittery hands struggling to find purchase anywhere for dear life—“Mmpf, Ken—!”

And you were just so cute with your wet, puffy folds squeezin’ down on him that Nanami has to force himself to tear his hazy irises away from your cunt. “S’alright, my love.” Cooing, one of his fat thumbs darts up to swipe away the line of sparkly drool seeping from your lips. “Don’t wanna be mean. And I- ngh- don’t wanna be too rough, but…”

But he couldn’t help it.

Oh, ever since the moment he woke up in this very hospital bed after fighting that damned curse Mahito- Nanami Kento couldn’t help himself. 

Parched for his dear wife’s pretty pussy when he thought he’d never see you again, he’s just slightly roughened up after Shoko had mended him, as good as new. Able to fuck you as good as new in this sloppy full nelson.

Chiseled pecs heaving, groans claggy. 

“Fuck, darling, you’d be lucky if I don’t eat you alive.”

Whining, your back arches as his rugged hands come sliding underneath your knees to tug them all the way up to your tits. Tight. Rude.

His scorching hot breath hits the side of ear in gusts, “I’m- I’m gonna break you, my wife.” Uttering this just as Nanami’s feet plant firmly flat on the creaky bedsprings to shovel his cock deeper. The utter fuckin’ stress of everything that’d happened during battle only making his reddened, ravaged cock oh-so-merciless. “I’m gonna fuck you so had that m’gonna hafta apologize.”

You swear the round, curving edge of his cocktip only grows harder every time he’s remembering - getting angrier. Furiously pumping between your pussylips, it just feels so good to have your calm, sensible husband take it out on your pussy until the toned area of his pelvis is stinging red. 

“Ngh– mmm- there.” 

And Nanami didn’t know whether he should be proud or shocked at the way that geysering hole of yours only grows wetter. A sticky lather of syrup trickling down his veiny shaft- “You…you like that?”

All you can do is nod- your head falling slightly backwards to hit his strong collarbone, where he takes the opportunity to sweetly kiss the side of your cheek. 

Murmuring - more to himself this time than you. “You want it- rough.”

It all happens at once- in one blink of your dewy eyes. 

Nanami has your whiny throat caught in one of his big, beefy biceps in a headlock. His ankles looped over yours to smear them even further apart, n’ his large, bulbous cock swinging inside so deep.

And you suddenly have your teary cunt stinging with impact, your tastebuds sizzling at the stretch. “I’m r-really gonna break you, my love.” And yet, he just couldn’t stop himself. He’s rovering his hungry shaft with hard, slamming thrusts. “Really, really…”

Slap after slap.

Even though Nanami’s voice was so very gentle with you, his hips were anything but.

As if he’s slowly regaining his cursed strength and ramming every shred of it into swabbing your sloppy orifice. Letting his hip bones dig deeply into the cheeks of your ass, you’re whining. “M-more!”

“More…?”

“More.” Cheeks still stuffed with the length of his tie, you’re hastily trying to spit it out- just to have him push one of his ringed hands over and squeeze your cheeks. Pushing. Holding you still. And Nanami’s sheer cadence is so hard n’ fast that your legs fall further open like they’re completely boneless. “Want you in like mmm- this.”

Like this?

The metallic clinic bedframe creaks as he only picks up his pace, grunting. “Being all- hah-disrespected like this?” Drilling into you like he was crazed- he’s never been so sloppy, so disoriented, so messy with a pool of precum laying over your folds. He spanks his wedding band on your swollen clit and watches as you squirm. “How does it feel like this, huh?” Tugging rudely on that sensitive nub, “Lettin’ me treat that pussy like a little slut?”

It’s like he’s tightening his restraint on your windpipe and asking you into making your shrilling wails. Goading you to.

“P-please-”

“How does it feel? Goood?”

Your maw splashes a polish of drool down his veiny forearm, your head pathetically airy with bloodrush. All you can whimper are tiny ‘yesses’ and ‘please!’

Voice higher-pitched, breaking. “Don’t say things like that.” Cutting off your rapid breaths as he raises his toned spine to rut n’ rut- “Gonna hafta draw you a long-” His thick veins were throbbing at this point, patterning across every inch inside of you. The towering curves of his body frame twitch as he’s feeling the stress seep away from him. “-loooong bath after this- and the deepest- massage.”

You’re so wet that you’re squirting off a few dribbles of syrupy sap and his precum, shiny in the overhead lights. And he breathes, “And another ring- fuck!”

Oh, with his blond brows furrowed and his glassy gaze blurred at the feeling of your sweet, sweet cunt- Nanami doesn’t waste a single second before striking your sensitive g-spot with a slick thwack!

Repeatedly. Accurately, oh-so-hard with his strength that your teeth are on edge. “F-fuck! There-” Your poor hips are starting to run away from the raw impact, but Nanami can’t bear that-

“Come- come back.” Headlock still in place, you’re being hauled back down until the line of his tawny happy trail nuzzles your back. One more thrash of his weepy divot into your g-spot. Two more. Three more. Four- 

And it’s only later that your mind registers the pricking sensation of the charged air around you two. Almost as if your pussydrunk husband was leaking…electricity? No, that couldn’t be. It was more like…

Oh, fuck…your eyes widen. His ratio technique. 

He was out of control- and it seems like Nanami is hit with the very same realization. Gasping sharply, “Oh, darling, you are not going to be walking out of this.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Jury Duty

“Now…I don’t get mad, gorgeous.” Oh, but Geto Suguru was fuming - not because you’d messed up your sneaky lil’ mission to collect data from the sorcerers- no. 

The very memory makes him slide his glistening fingertips down your raw, leaking slit. Letting off the loudest ringing sluuuurp–! once he’s digging between your puffy folds to squeeze your clit. Humming, “But was it quite so necessary to be that…close?”

He was mad because of just how sweetly you were talking to that nameless assistant that’d tried his best to get your number. Oh, if only Geto could’ve taken care of him right then and there. 

“B-but-”

“Was it?” Raising his head, his darkened eyes face your little audience of the rest of his cult members, surrounding the two of you on the tatami mats. “Did you think you could pull a fast one on me?”

Heads bowed, reverent of their leader. Each n’ every one there shivers at his attention- and you don’t even get to hear their answer before he’s kissing his plush lips down the line of your back- holding you firmly still with a hand at your throat once the curve of his cock slips just between your legs. 

You’re whining, “No it wasn’t- please!” 

“Stay.” Voice deep, tone guttural. He’s clinging on with a clawed hand onto the side of your hips, no matter how much you wrestle and thrash and ache for more- you couldn’t move because of his carnal, strong hold. Not a single inch.

“He was just hck! being nice.”

“And now you can’t stop talking about him, gorgeous?” And Geto knows he’s being unfair. He knows he’s being mean. But the way you just turned so slippery n’ wet once he’s spanking the entrance to your cunt with his reddened, blushing tip makes him only grin. “Guess you’ll just get to talk out of her.”

Geto was silently seething, watching the way your spit-stuck mouth hangs faaaar ajar with every solid inch he slips inside. Sensually, slow enough that your thighs twitch and you can’t do anything but whine once he’s holding you still to rub the fat of his veins against your sweetest spots. Over and over.

“H-heh-” Something in his voice cracks. “Don’t think she even deserves this. Now, do we think she deserves my entire fucking cock, hm—?”

Oh, the low purr in his voice makes both you and the cult shiver- and your popped ears catch a few stray agreements. Geto’s answering tone low in your ear, “You’re lucky they’re being nice~”

But he wasn’t - and before you know it, your boyfriend has one thigh hiked to help take you from behind. The spheroid of his mushroomed tip flared and red-hot lodging straight into your cervix as he sinks in, pushing and pushing and pushing.

He gasps at the slight resistance of your tight hole, “Take it.” Honed fangs snarling, partially-closed eyes locked onto the way slick was gluing your pussylips all sweet n’ together. Your mouth drops as you stare over your shoulder and wonder whether he was even talking to you. 

Because his low, breathy tone made it sound like Geto was babbling like never before. 

Spitting straight down the glittery slope of your slit so that you whimper. “Can’t hear you, pretty baby. Speak up.”

“Suguru–” Your mouth huffs out, lower lip pushing into a pout. Your eyes criss-cross stupidly once he flinches at the sound of his name on your tastebuds and strikes the spongy layer of your g-spot dead-on- as if it’d just electrocuted him. Slapping down two hands on the side of your hips to haul you deeper down his bludgeoning, split-ended crown. He probes a circular bruise into you, “O-ohhh mmm- s’in so deep-”

“And who said you could speak, gorgeous?”

You’re letting off a whiny shrill, questions building up on your tastebuds. Only for Geto to beat you to it and thwack! his meaty cockhead repeatedly against the splotch of your g-spot until you can’t speak.

Tilting his head towards your spectators with a grin, “Right~? I didn’t say hah- she couldn’t speak, right?” Seemingly nodding, you could feel him lean his weight further down into the base of your spine, pinning you down. “So shut up and take- it-” Punctuating his words with stiff jackhammers that blow your mind. “Let this filthy hole be the one ngh- talking t’me- she’s muuuuch sweeter than you.”

As if he’d just planned it, his flared slit snags on the quivering entrance to your pussy and makes such a saccharine squelch! 

“Heh…when she’s not swallowing my fat fucking cock, that is.”

So vulgar. 

You’ve never seen him like this- you’ve never had him like this. 

Fucking you so deeply into the futon that you’re half-sure the pattern of the tatami below would still be on your front by tomorrow. He wasn’t just pounding away, though-  it was hard, precise mazings of his slimy shaft that drove you the most mad. Geto spanks his hips down until it gives a good pummel against your g-spot and wonders whether it might’ve bruised. 

“B-but-” Just barely managing to get out of your drivelling mouth before two of his arms loop underneath your own and hoist you halfway upwards. Held up only by his big, beefy biceps, splayed out like such a slut. 

He sags his pretty face into the crook of your neck, still driving his hips until the fuzz of his happy trail was scratching you raw. “Still talking, gorgeous?”

“But- wanna-”

“Wanna? Hmmmm…” For a second, Geto looks as if he might just as the rest of his association whether or not you deserved to. And for a second, you expect him to.

But it happens all at once- his wrist reaching out to tilt back your woozy head, his rosy lips puckering, spitting a wadded stream of saliva straight into your half-open mouth. 

He’s wrenching shut your jaw and making you swallow—“Clean that mouth out. Talking to hah- bastards.” Absolutely no shame, absolutely no disgust in the way he plants a lecherous slide of his tongue down in a French kiss. Fuck. “Mmm- now you’re mine. Say ‘thank you’, my girl.”

The sheer girth of his length already has you blubbering, mouth moving before your mind. He’s stirring up your insides n’ every ridge until you mewl, “Th-thank you.”

“Good—” The very same hand that was latched onto your jaw now moves to your cheeks, squishin’ them into an embarrassing pout as Geto makes you stare straight at the sprawling audience you two have. Heady. “Now…ask them if you deserve to cum.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “Fuck.”

It’s just about the only thing that your poor, twitching boyfriend can say right now.

And as he bruises a roughened hold upon each side of your bouncing hips, echoing in a pant. “F-fuck!” Baritone cracking into something high, he throws his head back into the cushy pillows and ruts just as far as his spine could curvaceously arch. 

Mahogany eyes fluttering shut, teary lashes touching his cheek.

It takes the soft, fleeting caress of your fingers gliding across his bangs for Choso to even register that he should open his eyes. And you coo out in a gentle voice, “Is everything alright, baby–?”

“Yes-” Breath hitching, he’s almost immediately back-tracking his answer when your dewy wet folds try to clench ‘round his girth. And the very feeling makes him once more sloppily thrust- “No.” You smile as Choso’s plush lower lips fall into a pout, “N-no teasing, baby.”

Oh, there was something so primal about the way that Choso’s saying it. 

Like he’s burning up with red, hot power sizzling underneath his skin. You’re pulling on his hair when he whacks your cervix once and the only thing he can keen is a low–“Harder.” Harder. “No- harder.”

It just isn’t enough, some carnal part of him thinks it might never be enough.

And the only thing that the half-curse can do is channel out a few harder hits, feeling his heart race at how that constant ramming of skin on your skin makes his v-line sting. 

“Fuck- nghh-” Your eyes scrunch shut with a few pearly tears at the sultry sensation. Never ever has your boyfriend pounded into you like this, never has he held your drooling cunt hostage while he shoveled his length from the very tip-top of his strawberry divot, bottoming out until he physically can’t anymore. “So good mmm, feels so good, Cho.”

“Yeah? Yeah?” Watching as your puffy core starts squirtin’ out a few sleek ribbons of slick, Choso crinkles his nose and all but begs. “Can- can I go harder then, baby? Please?”

Oh?

He’s never the first to ask to go harder- usually, you are. 

And that itself is enough to get you nodding stupidly, your glassy peripherals swirling in unison with his veiny shaft. Stirring in a slight curving gyration inside of your gummy walls before he pulls out and slams all the way back in. Methodical and mean.

“Fuck-” His flared mushroom tip hits the side of your g-spot and Choso drools. “M’not gonna hck! make it out of this alive. What…what is this feeling-”

Before you can even think of answering, he plants his feet firmly flat on the floor and uses the sinful leverage to slide you upwards on his hips. The feeling of your perky clit gliding down his happy trail making the man hiss—Reaching upwards, eyes dilated. “Feels like m’gonna eat you alive.”

Oh…you had an idea what it was.

Something about putting his cursed energy into overdrive during a mission today. And you’re sure that your dear, inexperienced boyfriend was simply stressed from the day.

Unsure how to take it out. Unsure how to do anything but flinch once you’re opening your sweet maw to shrill a few teasing words. “Awww– seemed like you’re under some ngh- stress, baby. Want me to take care of that for you?”

“I said no fucking- teasing-” 

Choso looks as shocked as you at those words - apologies ripe on his tongue, cherry-pink lips wobbling adorably as he tries to reel it back in- Only for the weepy hole on top of his swollen crown to pour out a generous load of wadded pre, striking right into the very back of your pussy.

Going harder. Sloppier. And he’s so big that every second has your chin glitter with bubbles of spit.

“O-oh.” And he’s sucking in a shallow breath as if he’d just had an epiphany. Dark brows knitting together, the crevice of his damp mouth opens up to let his pinkish tongue peek through. Carefully grazing his thumb down that lil’ tummy bulge he was fucking into you, “You’re gonna take me like- like a good girl.”

Fuck- you’re so wet by now that the bottom half of his abs were polished with a glittery sheen. Making it sooo much easier for him to slip n’ slide you with his manhandling arms. “A good- ngh-” 

“Yeeeeah, exactly that.” And he looks so drunk on that little sentence, a dopey smile playing along his mouth once he presses down on that bumpy, cylindrical outline. Giggling, “H-heh, my good girl. You’re gonna take me, aren’t you, my baby?”

Hands clawing onto the plush curves of his deltoids, you can only throw your head back and let yourself be moved. “Yeah- go on. Have your fun, Cho—”

“My fun. My fun.” Almost as if he couldn’t believe it. The buzz of his powers going into overdrive makes his long, sensitive shaft even more sensitive, rovering down your ridged walls so fast that his delicate veins start throbbing. “That means…I can bend you like this-”

His right hand, so loving n’ soft on your hips- starts arching you back, back, back back- until every ramming kiss of his glazed tip stirs your insides fully.

Until he’s staring at that tummy bulge and watching with such heart eyes, “And- and I can fuck you like this-” Not only were his hips rutting up animalistically, his strong, beefy arms were flexing upon your sides and making you bounce. Milking him. Slouching his toned upper body over to bite on the crook of your neck, “And I can bite-”

With his honed canines nibbling down on your heated skin, Choso’s mouth departs with cracked whimpers every time his tender slit was rubbin’ up on the side of your cervix. 

“Please- ngh- please please please-” You’re throwing your head back as his ruby-red tip starts to twitch. Ferally. Every time he slides his velvety length through your walls, he’s striking hard enough that both of you see stars. 

And Choso grins–“Can be all r-rough- and this pussy’s still mine.”

So it only made sense that he was going to cream himself inside like it. Like you owned him, he’s circling your hips in a wide semi-circle that makes his veins snag all over the insides of your cunt. Lecherous. Loud. 

Choso just can’t stop whining with every splat! of salty white cum that sprays out into your pussy, “Gonna do this again.” Not even slowing. Not even faltering. His pulsating cock is just so big that you can’t even spill all over, just sheathing him in a layer of syrupy white. “Gotta- have to.”

Mewling, “Yes— please- make me cum, baby.”

“Hmm—” And fuck- you’d nearly forgotten just how strong he was. Because in a matter of mere sultry moments, you’re being bent forwards with a powerful hand at your throat. “Only if you spit in my mouth.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - TRUE true form!

Ryomen Sukuna was big - so big that every smash of his dual, blushing tips made you throw your head back and see stars. 

And his arms weren’t letting you off easy, either. All four of his bulbous, beefy biceps flexed once he kept his hold on either side of your body- damn near holding you off of the bed in midair as he fucked you like he hated you. 

“P-please, how are you so hck! big, Kuna?” You’re whining, your chin splashing with a syrupy bout of saliva. And every tiny twitch of your boneless hips left his bludgeoning shafts travelling straight to the bottom of your pussy. 

“P-P-please-” He’s mocking, gruff voice clinging onto the back of your neck like adhesive. You’re just on all fours and shaking like a leaf- “S’that any way to talk to your hah- king, little human?”

“Nooo- but…” 

“Shut up and take it then- heh.” Legs boneless, every ricket! of the mattress leaves you wincing at the recoil of his hips. Ramming into yours so hard that you’re sure you have bruises now- his thighs on your own, his abs on your spine, his twin cockheads on the entrance to your womb.

And you have nothing more to say, every other end of your sentence smashed up every time he’d wetly plastering your cervix with a layer of pre. It was so hot n’ hard having him filling up your every tender orifice. “It’s so rough.”

And what else did you even expect?

Cutely asking him not to destroy a few souls- tch, of course he was pent up. Of course, he was seething and taking out every shred of it by clawing down the base of your spine and pushing n’ pushing. 

Bottomed out but still half-rutting like it would kill him if you didn’t take any more. 

Each lil’ clench of your bubblegum pussy making his black, clawing nails only surge, his muscles ripple even bigger, fangs growing-

“Haaa? What? You want me ta be gentle?” Sukuna purrs, low. And you’re whimpering once you feel the slimy tip of what felt like his second tongue sliiiide down your stuffed slit. “Your king will show you ‘gentle’, brat.”

Mewling, each spank of the velvety underside of his cursed tongue leaves you jolting. Purposefully dragging over his textured tastebuds just so that he could taste every syrupy ounce of you. 

And not even clinging onto the aged headboard of the bed and squirming could get him to let up. 

Could get him to move even a single inch when he’s alternating between rude bangs of his matching plump crowns into your cervix, and then a glutinous flick of his tongue. Again and again, he was letting it alllll out on you until you’re all bruised and battered on the gooey ends of your pussy.

Sukuna’s only holding you to his broad pecs with two of his hands, the other two drifting down to smear your sheeny thighs open. So, so wide but his toned hips were so bulky that stretchin’ round him made your hamstrings ache.

“You won’t let me fuuuck- consume humans and now you won’t let me consume this?” Both mouths drooling, he greedily gazes at the way each single whack! of his breeder balls leaves your cunt hole trembling n’ geysering. He spits, molten hot irritation. “Spoiled brat…I’m starved.”

“Can’t- hck! can’t help it- it’s so much-”

Spank after spank, he slots his second mouth in a steamy French kiss just where your cunt was quivering with delight. Every geysering slosh of sap streaming down to his greedy throat- “Yeah? Sayin’ that when yer making such a ngh- mess?”

And you were just slobbering everywhere, painting a translucent little puddle underneath you that he’s eagerly lapping up. Probin’ oh-so-stupidly deep that you can only babble, “Y-yes?”

“Tch.”

Oh. Oh. 

That sinful little answer of yours makes the King’s tattooed body erupt in goosebumps. And you swear you’re feeling the weight of him press you into the bedsprings even deeper. So feverish, so hot that you blearily snap your head around and drink in the sight of Ryomen Sukuna with horns.

Red, jagged and long. 

His true form.

And it was so unfairly sexy, glinting canines snapping at the tendons of your throat. “And ya think you deserve to be messy, hm?” Grinning in such a gone way, he tilts his head as he presses down on the edge of your spine with one knee. Drilling into you like he’s crazed. Out of control. “Think you deserve more?”

“Mmm- can feel you both inside- ngh, both-”

Something in his glowing, crimson eyes was dark- primal. And it was boring at you dead-on once Sukuna splays an open palm of his in front of your face and croons—“Prove it t’me. Spit.”

Your glossy, puckered lips curve into a pout, starin’ at that opened palm of his straight ahead underneath you. Saliva already dribbling down each side of your twitching lips, like he was spearheading you from the other side and pushing it out. You spit-

Only for Sukuna’s second mouth to manifest right at that very split-second on his palm, so that you’re spitting in there instead. “Filthy thing.” And as that great glittery glob disappears between his cursed lips, you don’t know whether he’s talking to you or his mouth. “Want more then, huh?”

And, truthfully, he doesn’t even know if you can handle it.

Doesn’t know if your stretched-out cunt can take any more with his mushy tongue trying to pry apart your core even further. But he wasn’t feeling any ounce of mercy.

Trying to fill you up so much that you’ll be able to feel it even weeks from now, Sukuna’s lengthy nails leave marks all over your waist as he hoists you up even more. Hissing at the way your fingers reach up to graze just the base of his draconic horns.

And the King blushes, he gasps. 

“You- you vicious fuckin’ woman.”

You’d just made Ryomen Sukuna stutter. 

The roughened thrust that comes next so hard that your eyes are swirling cartoonishly, arms aching where you yearn to touch that part of his true true form. 

Holding on while he pounds you like he’s pressing you in to the royal silk sheets, the flatness of his tongue smacks down on the crevice of your pussy. Slipping inside- a third intrusion—“Now you’re really in for it, lil’ human.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - Got milk(ed)?

“This is what you make me, pretty.” And Ino’s tugging whatever’s left of his damn ski mask, he’s bending your legs firmly into a mating press with natural toned strength you didn’t even know he had. “And this is how you’re going to get hah! fucked.” 

And just one swipe of his cute, pre-glazed tip would be enough for your boyfriend to be salivating at the mouth. Lips twitching with eagerness as he sinks his heavy shaft inside.

But right now?

Oh, right now he wasn’t even sensually slowing down to listen to your pretty trilling moans. He’s not going easy on you, he’s doing nothing but sheathing his prolonged length whole in a way that makes your woozy eyes tear up.

Lips speckling with drivelling spit as you whine, “Shit-” The doughy heels of your feet find purchase on his slender shoulders, unsure whether you wanted to push or have him stretch you out more more more- “Shit- you’re so big.”

“Gonna cry about it?” He smirks- meanly. And where the hell was your sweet, innocent boyfriend? 

The Ino right now was just spanking down a few of his thoroughly ringed digits on your soppy slit, leaving you n’ your quivering cunt seeing stars at the sensation. Stirrin’ around the rotund, bawling edge of his pink crown until he manages to bully all the way into the back of your pussy. 

Just barely managing to open your mouth, “O-oh my god- Taku, it feels so- oh!”

“Whaaat–?” And shit- the way his straight nosebridge was crinkling was sexy, looking at you through hazily half-lidded eyes that told you he wanted to devour you whole. “Look at her- just look.”

Ino lets his knobbly fingertips glissade down your folds and latches onto the button of your clit just enough to pull-pull-puuull. Low, gentle voice tinged with something so raspy as he groans, “M’being so meeean to her, making her cry n’ she’ll still mmm- sucking me in, sweetness.”

Truly, you were just so wet that your oversaturated walls were gulping down his every solid inch like you were starved. Filling up every orifice and cranny with his hot, heavy length- “B-because it’s just so good.”

“Is it—?” Ino sighs out, airy and flushed. For merely a split-second before he’s snapping out of it and promptly kneeing apart the insides of your thighs. 

Bed creaking in protest when he reels his lean hips back to bring them down with a ringing smack! It’s so loud that it makes Ino’s pelvis sting, his chestnut lashes wring with tears, and he has to gnaw down on his lush lower lip to bite back a few broken whimpers. “Fuck- fuck, don’t you dare make me all pathetic, pretty.”

Mewling, one of his slender hands comes to push your cheeks together in a pathetic lil’ pout. The edges of his frigid rings lacquering with your spit- and the other keeps slithering right between your legs. 

Not only was he toying with your clit now - he was circlin’ your cute, rubbery hole. Long middle finger scratching your outer entrance with his bands of metal before shoving its way inside-

“S-still taking me.” And for a lecherous moment there it almost sounds as if he’s just lost himself, it almost sounds like he’s breaking. Before shaking the tawny bangs out of his eyes and snarling down a feral grin. “Pretty hole’s takin’ all of me- wonder if you can take ngh- more, sweetness.”

“Sh-shiiiit–!” Your hands claw red, red lines all down Ino’s sculptured back when you feel the probing push of yet another one of his fingers.

Already stuffed to the brim with his sleek, pummeling cock - and now here he was thrusting in a sloppy cadence of whack-whacking your cervix with his bulbously swabbing tip and tormenting your g-spot with the glides of his digits. 

They’re agonizing when they’re stimulating you at the same time, and the only thing you can do is throw your head back and listen to the noisy squelches and slurps. Moaning, you claw at his dextrous wrist as he spanks a third fingerpad on your slope. “Another- oh, fuck!”

Pushing and pushing

Ino groans huskily at the snug resistance when all three of his fingers can’t poke around- brows scrunching, tongue sticking out.

He looked drunk and gone by the time he’s hissing out a sharp breath and flipping the two of you over. And oh- oh, this position was ideal.

Because not only did it give him the heavenly view of your thighs spread all open n’ straddling his hips to ride him- but it also let him dip his creamy fingers down and rub them all over your geysering cunt. Bullying them the entire way inside up to his mountainous knuckles because enough is never enough.

“Fuck- oh.” Ino tumbles his head back once he’s hearing the sappy plop! of your dripping pussy gobbling up his second finger. Entire body twitching at the feeling of his chilly ring digging in- “Pretty, pretty- I can’t do this anymore I hck! need it—”

Your lips quirk up into a smug smile, hips hitting down with a slam of clammy skin sticking onto skin. And he can only half-rut, savage and angrily pumping his cock. “Aww, already, Taku?”

“Yes. Yes.” He’s begging by now. Pleading. This little roleplay you’d begun, now starting to completely switch when he had you on top like this ready to milk his swollen, reddened cock dry. 

Such a pretty coral pink at his tip, and it matches the innocent blush on Ino’s hollow cheeks once he’s guiding one of your hands up to choke him. Gurgling out, “I want you to be angry at me now, sweetness.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Mercy.

“Th-this is where you’re weak, right?”

And the strongest’s voice cracks. 

Gojo utters out a rough breath as he catches his thumb on that designer blindfold of his dangling ‘round your neck and plasters you against his tensely glissading abs. The tip of his cock driving between your wet, aching folds, he’s jerking you up just enough to push his reddish crown into your g-spot with a splat!

“O-oh please mmmm–” Your mouth parts with a ribbon of sleek spit, tumbling out in a heap into the pillow lodged underneath your face. “There- right there, Satoru!”

“There- there.” You’re hearing him raspily utter from behind, each pant higher and more broken than the last. With your back arched oh-so-deliciously, he’s hiking up one of his meaty thighs to pin to the side of your hips and pump even deeper- “There?”

Oh, he knew it was there.

He’s rubbin’ his swollen, veiny shaft all over your sweetest areas like a massage. He was mean. And you’re crying out the cutest lil’ whines that only make him bite back a sleazy grin. “Such a good, tight pussy takin’ me- h-heh, so good taking me, sweetheart. So good…”

“S-so rough.” Your hazy peripherals whirl in circles ‘round the whites of your eyes, brows scrunching with every thwack! of his honed, chiseled v-line striking the cheeks of your ass. “It’s so much- ngh.”

And the only response that Gojo’s overheated body can think of is to twist his large fingers into the jostling fabric at your neck to pull you further backwards. Your breath stutters damply, chest heaving. 

He didn’t care. He was going hard. Hissing swiftly in your ear, “If you think this is too much maybe I should knock you up then, my wife.” Something in the cloyingly sticky air crackles - power, raw need - as he snickers to himself. “Should I—? Should I knock you up like they say?”

They: those damn elders.

He wasn’t just irritated after that ambushed meeting on damn Gojo heirs - he was furious. 

The very reason that Gojo hadn’t made two steps past the door to your shared penthouse before he’s practically dragging you to the bedroom. Shoving his heavy, aching cock inside until you were full, full, full-

“M-maybe you should.” You’re blubbering out through the primal mewls ripping through your throat, just another one of his jackhammers rendering you stupid. Almost instant the way he slimily grazes his bulbous tip down to whack the entrance of your cunt.

And Gojo seethes— cheeks angrily ruddied, spit flying in glittery flecks. “I should?” 

“Yes mmm- please.”

“I…should?”

It’s not a question - it’s a realization.

The clammy pads of his fingers shake unstably, his touch zaps you with cursed energy, movements sensually languid- almost like Gojo doesn’t even register what his hefty body is doing right now. Almost like he doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s toeing his left foot upwards to plant it down on the crown of your scalp until he’s looking down at his pretty, pathetically drooling wife and gasping.

“Oh. Oh.” The red n’ full cock speared inside of you twitches, so big that he swabs all your each sultry, shrouded nook and cranny . “You don’t know how haaah- badly it pissed me off, my girl. Wanted to purple hollow all those fuckers.” 

Your hands fist the silk of the pillowcase now sticking to you like adhesive, hips squirming restlessly- he was so fast that the back of your ass was raw with the texture of his pale happy trail. “Wh-what did?”

“Hearin’ them talk about an heir. Hearin’ them talk about you ngh- pregnant.” He snarls, heel pressing down with slight force that makes all the blood rush from your melty mind straight down to your dripping pussy. He’s fucking you like he hates you. “When really I’m your husband-”

As he speaks, the slick curve of his cockhead snags on your bundle of nerves. Your husband’s Six Eyes working overtime when he’s watching - mouth ajar, gaze half-lidded - as his lengthy shaft impales your gummy walls and drives riiiight into your womb. Precisely.

Gojo blushes at the x-ray vision, “-and I get to make my wife pregnant when she wants.”

They wanted a Gojo heir, they’re going to get one.

With your thighs shaking, breaths heaving- before you know it, he’s timing a direct three hits from your cute lil’ g-spot n’ barreling straight into your womb. And it makes you cum. 

Long, vein-covered length barely even pulling out - Gojo feels your walls clench around his thick girth and he’s only half-rutting.

“That’s it- that’s it that’s it that’s it-” You can hear the pure crazed smile in his husked tone, the edges of his rosy lips twisting with every adorably pulsing ba-thump! of your cunt. Faster. Harder. He was wincing with each recoil of his sloppy strokes, unable to even bear being separated from the syrupy depths of your pussy. “Take it- take it like good girl-”

“I-it’s shoooo—” Left so helpless by the merciless way he was pounding you through your high, your mouth was slurring out bubbles of spittle after each second strike. “-so much- hck! So much.”

“More. Yeah, you’re gonna take more, my girl.” He can’t help but memorize the shocked lines of your face and giggle. Octaves higher. Movements filthier. Running a hand down to toy with your clit, “You’re gonna be filled up to the briiim.”

And usually Gojo would’ve rubbed the soft, velvety tips of his fingers on your sensitive nub in hearts. Maybe even his name, teasingly. Usually. 

But he didn’t have the patience for that right now.

Right now, he was twisting his touch onto where you were most swollen and pinching your clit. Hard. Power sparking like some lewd bullet vibrator. 

All that it takes for him to throw his head back and finish off in such a raw, primal way all up inside of your cunt. And you’re not even sure if Gojo registers it - whether he even feels himself cum, because he’s still drilling away like he’s addicted. 

Bed dipping at the force of his blows, sheets staining pure white with the slippery sheen of seed that glues down your thighs. Toes curling, it’s only when you’re sniffling back a tear of overstimulation that Gojo snaps his head down to catch the pearly ribbon of cum escaping your geysering folds—“Need to get you pregnant. Need to- more.”

“What?”

You’re so wet that it feels like a damn waterfall down there, and your husband only glides his knobbly thumb down to plug every sappy, ivory ounce back into your hole. “More, my girl.” 

The air bristles with charged atoms as he swerves his slender hips just right to push the knotted cobwebs of cum accurately against your womb. Every part of him charged, every part of him still powerful and fuming. 

Whining, your knees buckle as if you were unsure whether you wanted to run or hit your hips back. Again and again.

And Gojo’s voice still shakes as he clings a hand onto the side of your birthing hips to manhandle you further down to him. Unable to escape. “You didn’t think you’re h-heh- getting off easy…mama?”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - Mrs. CEO

“I have never seen a CEO this clumsy-” Higuruma’s deep, drawling voice speaks over the haze of your nth high of the night. Thin lips twitching as he takes in the sight of you sprawled on top of your own office desk, shuffling over so many important documents. “-ma’am.”

But oh, he couldn’t go easy on you just yet. Not when you had so much work to do.

And it’s why he’s shuffling his polished shoes further in a step backwards, tongue flicking out to lick his lips as he smeeears the layer of his cum sticking to your cunt like glue. 

Grumbling, “Forgetting the most important hah- meeting of the day. I should report you.” Formal office pants still on, the dangling metal piece of his belt kisses the right cheek of your ass and makes you hiss. Rubbing your gummy walls raw on the slick, winding patterns of his veins. 

And it’s just so wet with all your sappy syrupy and his, travelling down to where you’re rubbing your thighs together. “Are you complaining, hm?” 

Spank! Spank! Spank! 

Three exact swats of his rude hands slamming down on the teary crevice of your slit, Higuruma makes sure to angle his strikes just right so that he can feel the way your clit just quivers. “Watch that pretty mouth, angel.”

And he’s moving so agonizingly, just torturing you with the curve of his mushroomy tip bulldozing straight near your g-spot. 

Never quite hitting it, never quite missing. 

Right up until you throw your head back with a wail and keen–“Please.” Swervin’ your hips back in lecherous figure eights that damn near gets the man above you hypnotized. “M’sorry, Hiromi.”

Spank! 

A hand on your throat- “No, you’re not.” One more to pinch n’ tug on your oversensitive clit until you feel all raw, you’re seeing stars every time he rolls his hips to play with your dripping pussy just right. 

“You n’ this filthy hole need me to ngh- finally fuck some sense into you, riiight–? Finally stop that pretty lil’ head from being filled with just cock?”

You don’t know if you’re nodding, you don’t know if you’re sobbing- but before you can register it, Higuruma’s hiking his capped knee up onto the desk so hard that it rattles. Nearly stepping on the base of your spine just to arch you perfectly.

Whining, “O-ohhh mm- jus’ that deep.” The new angle makes him stretch you open so wide that every splash of buttery white cum slips out of your entrance like a waterfall. Your pussy struggling to suck in his sheer size into your hot insides, “Fuck me- oh, yes, fuck me.”

“S’what I’m doing, silly angel.” The vice-like restraint on your throat is mean, and Higuruma’s tone is even meaner. Cooing- but he’s dragging you by the neck upwards to look directly into his eyes as he sliiiides his lengthy, scorching cock inside and out. “Or are you already that ngh- stupid on my cock, hm?”

So deep, so fat that he can’t even help if the vein-covered sides of his shaft brush up against your sweetest spots by mistake. 

Hips papping back into his, “More.” Cloying layers of seed saturate your innards so much, and you’re so sensitive that every honed thrust makes your knees weaken. “S’more, Hiro, c’mon.”

And the worst part was that your personal assistant’s pinning you with his weight and holding you there to watch you struggling and squirm. Slimy, erect cockhead driving right into the target of your lil’ nerves like he’s addicted to that very spot, “You’ll take what you’re given.” He tilts his head with a smile, “Why don’tcha get some work done, sugar?”

Oh.

You could barely even pick up the pen let alone sign off on important contracts like you were supposed to be doing right now.  

And yet, every time your poor, boneless wrist showed signs of faltering, Higuruma would grit his teeth and painfully slow down his cadence. Each time he lazily rubs just the large, rotund curve of his cocktip on your g-spot, watching as you jerk your hips back for more-

Spank! Spank! 

Massaging two direct swats on the flooded slope of your pussy, “Fuck! This tight little hole really can’t stay that hck! long without me?” Loosening his tie still on him, “She’s even worse than you, angel.”

And he’s milking himself on you- punishing your cunt with the most lecherous drags of his sloppy shaft. Each time you feel him enter past the door to your womb, you can only throw your head back and bite down on the velvety fabric of his damn office tie. 

“H-hck! Please- gonna—” Muffled, your handwriting’s gone astray on whatever document it is by now. “So close-”

Tapping his chin as he pretends to think, “Hm, I’ll let you cum-” And before a gorgeous smile could even start to light up your face, before you can even breathe, Higuruma’s crowning your sweaty scalp with one hand and pushing you to further lay on the mahogany desk. Drooling in such a heaping puddle right then n’ there, “If you can use those fuck! awful manners n’ say ‘please’...”

“Please.”

“Louder.”

“Please-”

Purring, “Can’t hear you, ma’am—”

And you were so far gone that your irises are turning clockwise in circles inside of your eyes, mouth overspilling with a glittered polish of drool and whimpers. 

You thrash your hips up higher on the table, “Please-” Batting your lashes just how you knew he was weak for. “Pretty please, baby.”

Oh- that did it.

That did it.

Because with a final one-two-three more vulgar strokes pumped into your puffy, sopping wet pussy, it isn’t just you hitting your high - it’s Higuruma, too. 

Your stern, sensible personal assistant who slams the chiseled upper half of his body the minute he feels your melty walls clenching and heaves. Meaty quads shaking with every wiry ribbon of cum he departs, letting the goopy mess fill up your cunt to the maximum.

Gasping- “Fuck, look what you did. L-look.”

And for a second you’re so disoriented by your own white-hot flashes of bliss that you barely even hear what he’s saying. In your own little reverie until you’re hit with a spraying splat! of something near your shoulder. 

Blinking, you’re turning behind you and noticing that Higuruma Hiromi was crying tears of overstimulation. 

Crying. 

“S’all your fault, angel.” Your thighs quake with each bout of your high, and just that tiny squeezing motion was enough for him to bead out another thin trail of tears. Milking himself. Your pussy’s holding him hostage until he’s nearly dry, only wrenchin’ out a few pearly knots of seed. Emptied out. 

So lazy and feverishly drunk that he reaches over to softly kiss the matching wedding ring on your hand, “Next time you’re not missing another meeting with me, my wife.”

A/N. OO I NEEDA WRITE HIGURUMA’S ONE LONGER

Plagiarism not authorized.

[autismswagsummit]

The Bracket has been set!

This year's competitor pool is hot, with 23 returning competitors and 41 new appearances. In Round 1, the matches will be broken up into 4 waves, divided by the quadrants displayed on the bracket. The matches will all be listed below the cut, for everyone's reference.

SIDE A, PART 1

Donatello Hamato (Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) v.s L Lawliet (Death Note)

Mary Anta (Cemetery Mary) v.s Rui Kamishiro (Project Sekai)

Izuku Midoriya (My Hero Academia) v.s Branch (Dreamworks Trolls)

Snufkin (Moominvalley) v.s Futaba Sakura (Persona 5)

Gordon Freeman (Half Life) v.s Sherlock Holmes (Sherlock Holmes)

Blathers (Animal Crossing) v.s Princess Bubblegum (Adventure Time)

Jonathan Sims (The Magnus Archives) v.s Zane (Lego Ninjago)

Tomoko Kuroki (Watamote) v.s Cloud Strife (Final Fantasy 7)

SIDE A, PART 2

Frieren (Sousou no Frieren) v.s Papyrus (Undertale)

Tech (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) v.s Ferb Fletcher (Phineas & Ferb)

Stanford Pines (Gravity Falls) v.s Twilight Sparkle (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)

Berdly (Deltarune) v.s Gregory House (House M.D)

Data (Star Trek) v.s Idia Shroud (Twisted Wonderland)

Peridot (Steven Universe) v.s Penny Polendina (RWBY)

Sig (Puyo Puyo) v.s Marcy Wu (Amphibia)

Jotaro Kujo (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure) v.s Miles Edgeworth (Ace Attorney)

SIDE B, PART 1

Monkey D. Luffy (One Piece) v.s Alhaitham (Genshin Impact)

Laios Touden (Dungeon Meshi) v.s Iggy Maxwell (Our Wonderland)

Dendy (OK KO: Let's Be Heroes) v.s Gin Ibushi (Your Turn To Die)

Norma Khan (Dead End: Paranormal Park) v.s Link (The Legend of Zelda)

Starfire (Teen Titans) v.s Luz Noceda (The Owl House)

Siffrin (In Stars And Time) v.s Huey Duck (Ducktales 2017)

Lilo Pelekai (Lilo & Stitch) v.s Saiki Kusuo (The Disastrous Life of Saiki K.)

Woo Young Woo (Extraordinary Attorney Woo) v.s Miles "Tails" Prower (Sonic the Hedgehog)

SIDE B, PART 2

Razputin Aquato (Psychonauts) v.s Linhardt von Hevring (Fire Emblem Three Houses)

Ranpo Edogawa (Bungou Stray Dogs) v.s Entrapta (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

Murderbot (The Murderbot Diaries) v.s Kieran (Pokemon Scarlet & Violet)

Twyla Boogeyman (Monster High) v.s Marina Ida (Splatoon)

Hiccup Haddock (How To Train Your Dragon) v.s Batman (DC Comics)

Abed Nadir (Community) v.s Red Son (Lego Monkie Kid)

Uzi Doorman (Murder Drones) v.s Bingo Heeler (Bluey)

Gillion Tidestrider (Just Roll With It) v.s Spongebob Squarepants (Spongebob Squarepants)

[clonetrooperjournals]

Stutters

Summary : Working in the Mechanics department of the GAR has its challenges but when your a loner with a stutter who gets bullied on the daily the last thing you expect is the friendship of the Bad Batch Pairings : Crosshair x Fem!reader (Mechanic reader) Warnings : angst, bullying, verbal and physical bullying, reader has a stutter, reader has a fat crush on crosshair (don't we all?), fluff, slightly spicy, happy ending Words : 2.1k Masterlist here dividers by @saradika-graphics

“H-Hand me t-t-the hydro s-s-spanner R3”  

The transport ship you had been working on was nearly finished. It looked like it had been to hell and back, covered in scorch marks, one side had half of the metal panels missing causing the need for the exposed wiring to be completely replaced. You had been stuck working on this ship for nearly 10 hours and was just about ready to call it quits. As you wipe the sweat from your brow you hear a commotion coming from the entry of the hangar.  

“Their back!” 

“Oh I hope there all okay!”  

“I hope Wrecker picks me up again!” 

The marauder lands and all the boys exit the ship. Clone force 99 has been the object of affection for a lot of the civilian mechanics. Most of the girls around here are used to the average clone so when the bad batch were put into the action most of the girls saw it as something different and throw themselves at them whenever they return home. You also thought they were handsome, especially one in particular but, you kept that to yourself. There's a reason you're a loner, nobody wants a stuttering mess of a person, including a super soldier with enhanced abilities.   

R3 rolls off to go and see the boys, knowing that Tech likes to dote on him. As you continue your wiring you hear the happy chirps of R3 getting closer and you giggle, “Y-yes R3 I’m g-g-glad the b-boys are h-home t-too.”  

“Yes, it is good to be home,” Tech says as he walks over to you with your droid, the others are trailing behind him.  

Your cheeks flush and you avoid the gaze of a certain sniper in the back of the group, “H-How w-was the m-m-mission?”  

“Long, but successful” Hunter says tiredly.  

You smile and nod, “I-I’m glad y-your all s-safe.” 

You had become friends with Tech after he fixed an issue with R3 a while back. You didn’t even know what was wrong with the astromech, but Tech saw you struggling and his curiosity got the better of him and he came to offer his assistance. Since then, he always comes to check up on you whenever they return home. He was a talker and a tinkerer, and since you preferred listening to talking, Tech rather enjoyed your company, especially when he needed time away from his brothers. Tech was one of the people you can genuinely say is a friend, he was always patient, understanding and never made fun of your stutter. He did sometimes try to come up with different methods and exercises for you to try to reduce the amount of stuttering, but you assumed Hunter told him to stop because he hasn’t said anything recently. You know he does it out of concern since he found out about the bullying, he’s been more attentive and checking on you more, even the other squad members come with him to check on you now. You assume he told them as well, which is its own form of embarrassing, but you know Tech means well so you can’t really hold it against him.  

 You glance around you and see some of the other girls pretending to be working while they glare at you. It hadn’t been bad at first, you had grown up with the stutter, you know how cruel people can be, so when some of the other mechanics started making offhand comments you didn’t let it bother you. Then it became more frequent, starting to make fun of you to your face and laugh when you would try to stutter your way through defending yourself, but when Tech became your friend, it got a whole lot worse. Suddenly the girls would corner you, make fun of and threaten you, hide your tools so you couldn’t work and complain about you to your superior, all because the batch were forming a friendship with you and in doing so, taking their eyes off of them. You didn’t tell Tech that the bullying got worse, you knew he would try to make it right or worse stop coming around so much. No matter how bad these girls treat you, you would put up with it every time if it meant you had a group of people you could call your friends.  

Crosshair noticed your gaze flickering to the girls behind them, but he said nothing. He had noticed recently that you’ve been more skiddish, and quiet. You’ve been trying to keep your distance without jeopardizing the friendship, suffering in silence. At first when Tech told the batch that you were being bullied Crosshair wanted to go off on his own and teach those girls a lesson because how dare they bully someone so beautiful and innocent? Until he realized that he was acting emotionally and instead just stayed quiet. It's not his fight, and even though it was very obvious you had a crush on him he wasn’t going to act on it. No matter how beautiful and perfect he thought you were...  

“Something wrong?” Crosshair asked raising a brow.  

Your eyes widened and you quickly looked down blushing hard knowing you’ve been caught, “N-No.”  

The others glance around and then nod to each other thinking its best they leave. They nod to you and leave the hangar, Hunter patting your shoulder on his way. Tech looks at you unsure, “Are you sure you’re, okay?”  

You smile at your friend, “I-I’m ok T-Tech.”  

“Alright if you're sure... Would you join us for dinner later? If you're finished with your work,” he asks hopefully.  

“I-I’d like t-that," you say gently.  

Tech nods and leaves the hangar to join the rest of the batch. You start to put your tools away, finally done for the day when a boot kicks your toolbox spilling your tools all over the hangar floor, “You’ve got some nerve stutters, flirting with them like the rest of us don’t have a chance!” 

“I-I w-wasn't f-flirt-” 

“Shut up!” Neela yells, the three other girls who make your life hell joining her around you. “You just don’t learn, do you? We told you to stay away from them, but you just can’t help yourself!”  

A loud smack echos through the hangar as you feel the sting on your cheek. Tears well up in your eyes as you grab your cheek, “I-I’m s-s-sorry! I w-wasn't-” 

“I said shut up!” Neela interrupts pushing you down. R3 was trying to get to you but the others held him back, “Next time you pull a stunt like that we’ll make sure, you regret it...”  

She turns on her heels and walks away the others trailing behind her avoiding your gaze as R3 rolls beside you chirping fast making sure you're okay. You quickly pick up your tools throwing them into your toolbox and then run out of the hangar back to your bunk, tears streaming down your face, and R3 rolling behind you.  

What you didn’t know was that Crosshair had come back to grab something from the marauder when he witnessed what had happened. And he was fuming.   

... 

You skipped dinner with the boys knowing that the girls would have been watching, and instead just lay in your bunk crying. You hear an unexpected knock on your door and roll over hoping the person would leave. The knocking however continued, and you sighed getting out of bed going to the door. You looked in the mirror and cringed at the sight, the red puffy eyes, tear streaks down your face, the bruise on your cheek, you’re a mess. You pulled your hair in front of your face best you could and opened the door.  

Not looking up you see a tall thin physique in nothing but blacks, “C-can I h-h-help you?” 

A gentle hand lifts your chin to meet Crosshairs intense eyes. He doesn’t say anything just looks over your face, his fingers ghosting over the bruise on your cheek a fury in his eyes. You back away looking down again, “I-It’s n-nothing...” 

“Doesn’t look like nothing” he quips back.  

You look up at him then cheeks burning, “did y-you n-n-need somet-thing C-Crosshair?”  

“No” he replies.  

You look at him confused but he doesn’t say anything. Crosshair’s not much of a talker and typically just stays with the boys so you were very confused why he was knocking on your door. You look around to make sure the other mechanics weren’t spying on you and sigh stepping aside to let him in. He hesitates but then enters your small room looking around before sitting on the edge of your bed. You slowly walk over to the bed, sitting by him with a large gap between the two of you.   

He pulls a tube of bacta gel out of his pocket handing it to you, “here.” 

“T-Thanks... wait,” you take the gel looking at him, “H-How did y-you k-know I n-needed this?” 

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, “why didn’t you fight back?” 

You sigh the tears welling up in your eyes, of course he would be the one to see. You shake your head eyes squeezed shut trying to breathe, “I-I c-can't! It w-would m-m-make it w-worse!”  

“Then get a transfer. Away from them, somewhere you’ll be safer i-” 

“I-I d-don't want a t-t-transfer!” you panic.  

He eyes you questioningly, “Why not?” 

“B-Because I-I'll never s-s-see y-you!” you yell. Then realizing what you just said you gasp hiding your face in your hands panicking. It’s quiet for a minute and your sure Crosshair is coming up with some response to reject you, but when you peek out of your hands you see his smirk. 

“And why would you wanna see me?”  

You keep your hands over your face as you whisper, “b-because I... I l-like you...” 

You hear his deep chuckle as he grabs your hands moving them from your face, “I know. You're not exactly subtle.” He leans forward faces inches away from each other, “but I’m not worth your safety.” 

“Y-you are t-t-to me...”  

His eyes widen for a second then he smiles a sultry smile, “Guess I’ll just have to make sure they don’t hurt whose mine then.”  

Hope fills your eyes as you stare back at him, “Y-Yours?” 

He grabs your chin slamming his lips onto yours. You groan into the kiss grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him even closer. He smiles and starts to trail kisses down your neck, “Mine.”  

...  

A week has gone by since that night with Crosshair, and today the boys were being deployed to Felucia. Your cheek had healed, and you’ve been happier than ever, confusing the girls who’ve been bullying you for months. The boys have been keeping their distance as per Crosshairs request, saying that he had a plan to handle the bullying. The girls were still bullying you, but nothing physical since the night of the slap and you’ve been ignoring them the best you can.  

Everyone was gathered to watch the boys depart getting their last chances to flirt with them, and as you and R3 walked up they all turned and smiled, not seeing the death glares of the women they were talking to. You walked over ignoring the piercing stares of the other girls, standing in front of your friends, “H-How long th-this t-t-time?”  

Tech types away on his data pad, “If all goes according to schedule we should be returning within 30 standard rotations.”    

Echo and Hunter look behind you worriedly, “You gonna be okay while were gone?”  

“Y-Yeah I’ll b-be o-o-okay,” you smiled warmly.  

Crosshair who had been watching from the back walked over to you with a sly smile on his face making you blush. The boys watched confused as Crosshair grabbed you by the hips and kissed you roughly in front of the whole crowd, stunning everyone into silence.  

You both pulled away smiling and Crosshair looked behind you wickedly, “She’ll be just fine, or you’ll be answering to me.” The girls all nodded in their shocked silence, “Good.” 

The boys all give you a questioning look, but you smile and nod at them. One by one they all smile back and head onto the Marauder leaving just you and Crosshair. He runs a hand up your side and pulls you in for another kiss this one slower and more heated. When he pulls back, he whispers in your ear, “See you soon baby.” 

And with a wink he heads onto the ship, you smile and wave as the ship takes off already waiting for his return.  

[vaultedoverthehorse]

Bly didn't like fighting. He only fought when necessary - and he didn't see punching his brothers on Kamino as necessary. Perhaps that was why he came back from training the bloodiest. Alpha-17 wouldn't have commented on it, except for the fact that he'd seen the pairings today. Bly had been partnered with Fox - and though Fox was the best fighter, he wouldn't have done that. The bloody nose, split lip, black eye - no, Fox was too smart for that. On Wolffe, maybe. But that's because Wolffe wouldn't back down. On Bly, however? On Bly, Fox would push him around for long enough that the longnecks weren't suspicious - and then Bly would tap out, both vod walking away unscathed. So, to Alpha-17, it all just seemed suspicious.

Despite it being suspicious, Seventeen wasn’t about to baby the cadets. They were soldiers - in four short years, they would be commanders. They would be in charge of entire legions of troopers. They needed to learn how to deal with adversity. Besides, the longnecks already disliked the batch - they’d be looking for any reason to decommission them. They were loud, independent, and didn’t listen well enough. No matter how many suicides Seventeen ran them through. But they were good, too good to be decommed. Sometimes Seventeen wondered if there was a mutation in their batch that made them this way. Kote was smarter and more creative, Fox more observant and cunning, Wolffe more brash and aggressive, Ponds more sensitive and adaptive. And Bly was more emotionally intelligent, more reasonable. If it didn’t put a target on their backs, Seventeen would be proud.

Currently, he was in the Commando’s barracks, cleaning his armor over and over. The others were off somewhere, leaving a tense silence that clung to everything like dust. He should’ve expected something would go wrong - it always does. As he reached for his chest plate, the door to the barracks slid open. Before he could even look up, he heard little footsteps running up to his bed. He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Cadet, you can’t-�� Seventeen started to chastise, but was cut off by the boys high-pitched ramble. Ponds was always the closest with Bly, so Seventeen hadn’t been surprised earlier when he seemed the most worried. But by now he should’ve moved on - bad things happened in war. That’s what this training was - the Nulls were preparing the cadets to survive. Seventeen was preparing his batch to survive. They couldn’t be soft.

“Bly - he’s - he’s really hurt.” Ponds seemed to be genuinely scared for his brother. Seventeen sighed, pushing his armor off to the side. “Cadet, he’s got a black eye and a split lip...I can’t just-“

Again, Ponds cut him off. He’ll be running laps around the facility for hours because of that. “Please, he got stabbed or - or something-“

Seventeen’s brow furrowed, his body tensing as if ready to fight. “….he what?” It had supposed to have been a melee session. And even if it hadn’t been, they never used weapons that would result in a stabbing. Getting stunned or shot, sure. But stabbed?

Ponds nodded, his eyes wide with fear. “B-Bric took over for Fox and Bly still wouldn’t fight and then-“

Seventeen had already stood up, and started walking to the door. The moment Ponds told him it was Bric, any surprise had left him. Bric didn’t think the clones were human - to him, they were just pets who needed to be trained, and aggression was his favorite tool. He was known to be cruel in training. Pulling a blade wasn’t the worst thing he’d done. But to one of Seventeen’s batch? He wanted to pull Bric’s stupid head off and throw him into the sea below.

“Let’s move, cadet.” He said tensely, motioning for Ponds to follow. Relief crossed Ponds’ face, and that hurt even more - did he think Seventeen wouldn’t care? There was no time to dwell on it now. Not if he had a kid bleeding in the cadets barracks.

The door to the cadets barracks slid open, and instantly the sounds of bickering could be heard from his batch’s bunks.

“It’s not supposed to look like that-“

“Guys-“

“-turn it around-“

“-it’s not a big deal-“

“-I got it-“

“-Wolffe get away-“

“-guys!”

Seventeen rounded the corner, and the scene before him was worse than he’d thought. Somehow the batch had gotten their hands on a medpac, and they were currently trying to place a bacta patch on Bly’s stomach - which was bleeding profusely. Kote was kneeling before him, a look of concentration on his face that would be funny in any other situation. Fox was over his shoulder, correcting him on every move he made, even though Fox didn’t know anything about medical care either. Wolffe was to Fox’s left, looking ever so slightly worried as he watched his brother’s work. All of them were too focused to notice Seventeen as he neared.

Cleaning his throat, Seventeen gave the batch his best glare. “What’s going on here?”

Wolffe jumped, then instantly looked angry at the fact that he had been scared. He gave Ponds a betrayed look, then looked at Seventeen. “Sir, we-“

Seventeen shook his head to silence him, then focused on Kote. “Move.” He said harshly, and the boy dropped the bacta patch and scurried to the side. Bly looked terrified, not saying a word as Seventeen kneeled before him. “This isn’t how you put a bacta patch on. You should clean the wound first if possible.” He took a pack from the medpac, ripping it open with his teeth.

Fox cleared his throat, watching Seventeen curiously. “Sir, we-“

“Not now.” Seventeen spoke tersely. He pulled the disinfectant pad out, and started to wipe down the wound. He ignored the hiss of pain Bly let out, instead speaking to the other four cadets. “Go to mess. You’re late enough as it is.” There was some scuffling and angry whispering behind him, before they finally shuffled out. The tension in the barracks was thick. Seventeen could feel Bly shaking slightly as he cleaned the wound.

Seventeen dropped the disinfectant pad to the side, looking up to meet Bly’s eyes. “Want to tell me how this happened?”

Bly looked away, taking a deep breath. “Yes, sir.” He was always the best with decorum, and for once Seventeen hated it - Bly should be angry, all his brothers would be. But instead he seemed defeated. “I - I wouldn’t fight at training today.”

Seventeen nodded, activating a bacta patch. “And?”

“A-and Bric caught on…he said I needed to be ‘motivated,’ sir.”

Seventeen felt his jaw clench, his hands shaking as he applied the bacta patch onto Bly’s wound. It wasn’t as deep as it looked, but he still wasn’t happy about it. “…it’s not your fault, cadet.”

Bly’s lip quivered, and he watched Seventeen carefully. “…am I going to be decommed.”

Seventeen jumped, dread spreading through his veins. “What?”

“Bric said that I was-“ Bly’s voice broke, tears filling his eyes. “-defective.”

Seventeen shook his head, pulling the boy in for a hug. He wasn’t ever physically comforting with his batch, but he cared for them. And seeing one of them cry because of the Nulls made him feel angry and guilty. “Bly, you aren’t defective.” He heard the boy sniffle, felt his blacks growing wet. Bly pulled away, looking up at him with tear-streaked cheeks.

“B-but why-“

“Bric’s a kriffing arse.” Seventeen spat out. “You aren’t defective, you’re fine. You’re just unique, and that’s a good thing vod’ika.”

Bly nodded. He didn’t seem comforted, but it was all Seventeen could give him. At least the tears were slowing. Seventeen stood up, leaving the contents of the medpac spread around their room. “Come on, cadet. Let’s get you to the mess.”

Bly nodded, wiping his cheeks as he stood. The two walked in silence, Bly a step behind as if they were marching to battle. Seventeen kept his head up high, trying to ignore the feelings of guilt gnawing at him. The hallways were dead, apart from a few soldiers walking back from mess. When they arrived at the said room, Seventeen stood by the door. Bly looked up at him, as if waiting for permission. Seventeen nodded at the boy, and watched him walk to Command Batch 02’s usual table. He slid into his usual seat next to Ponds, who slid him an untouched tray. Seventeen watched from a distance as Bly’s eyes started to light up, watched the laughter as Wolffe and Fox bickered over something stupid. And Seventeen wondered: what was the point to it all? When they graduated they’d be split up to all corners of the galaxy. He was raising them like lambs to a slaughter, waiting for their deaths.

Even if there was nothing he could do, at least they had each other for now. Seventeen stood up straight, then turned on his heel and left the mess. He couldn’t stand to watch them anymore.

[vekreng]

Crosshair - SFW Alphabet

prompt: sfw alphabet featuring the reader dating Crosshair from The Bad Batch :] list by @.the-coldest-goodbye here! pairing: Crosshair x Reader words: 1.9k requested: no

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

His affection level depends on who’s around. His siblings? Best you’ll get is him standing by you, maybe his elbow or knee grazing yours. In public? He’ll gently hold your arm or brush your upper back to steer you someplace. Perhaps he’d absentmindedly intertwine his fingers with yours while pointing out the differences in two seemingly identicals articles of clothing.

Alone? All over you. Crosshair can hardly go a minute without having some kind of physical contact with you. It’s a combination of love, being touch-starved, and fearing that you’d disappear for good if he ever let you go.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Oh, he’s definitely the snarky friend that mocks you for missing a step when going down the stairs but wouldn’t hesitate to shoot a random person for muttering an insult about you under their breath. He’d be standoffish toward you at first, refusing to accept someone new into the fold that was the Bad Batch. But like algae, or perhaps a barnacle, you grew on him faster than he expected. You shared in his jokes, stood up to him when he was being an ass, and was unnervingly in tune with his moods. Neither of you know exactly what changed your relationship, but you can both agree it was for the better.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Yes, but only when in private. And even then he’s like a bored cat; the amount of physical contact endured is exactly what he deems is okay and nothing more, nor nothing less. He likes having you pressed into his side. His arm tucked around your lower back, your ankles overlapping. It’s a completely different story when you share a bed, however. Good luck removing him if you need to go anywhere before he does.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Secretly, yes, though he isn’t sure what that would entail. He dreams of a world where he doesn’t have to fear for his loved ones’ safety on a regular basis, where he and his family isn’t foraging for scraps from people who could turn on them at any moment. He’s pretty solid at cleaning, not so much at cooking, but he’s willing to learn.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

“We’re done. It's best if you leave.” Cold and to the point. Maybe if he shows less attachment, it’ll hurt less for the both of you. (That’s a lie, of course.)

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He’s a bit iffy on marriage. He’s never really had any examples to look at himself, and as a soldier - and a clone especially - something like marriage was never in his cards before you came along. He’d have to take it slow, for sure. He can’t risk the pain of losing you outweighing the joy of knowing you are his only other.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Crosshair is the human embodiment of a cactus at first. His spines protect him from being hurt, but eventually he learns how to let new people in, and some further than most. But once you’re in? Softer than a rose petal. He couldn’t bear to do anything to hurt you, it’d gut him.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

In public, his hugs are an arm around your neck like he’s playfully choking you, usually when you’ve done something stupid. In private, though, he wraps his arms so tight around you it feels like you’re suffocating. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, seeking your warmth and body to engulf him fully and block out the rest of the world, just for a little while. His thinner frame can be a bit uncomfortable at times, but it’s nothing you don’t get used to.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes a long time. So long you’ve begun to wonder if he even knows about the phrase, or its significance in relationships. So long that you start having doubts about whether he even reciprocates that level of attachment, until you have a little “Oh. Oh.” moment when it finally pops up.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

VERY. And it’s almost painful, how often it tends to happen. God forbid a “reg” be within eyesight of you, unless it’s one of “the good ones,” also known as Rex or Echo. A stranger flirting with you on one of their pit stops is no match for the fire in his glare that could melt steel. He gets possessive quickly, at times physically blocking the subject of his jealousy from reaching you with his body. “Keep your hands to yourself,” he’d snarl, “if you enjoy using them.”

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Shallow, but rich with life. He loves kissing you and being kissed, but he can’t really do that whole “tongue wrestle to determine who’s Alpha” thing that most enjoy. He prefers to keep them light but long, not wanting to let go just yet. He loves to press a kiss to your lips, your cheek, your brow, your shoulder. Your hand, if he’s feeling especially romantic. He loves when you kiss his tattoo, or scars, or collarbone. The palm of his prosthetic hand after Tantiss; it helps him accept it.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

We’ve all seen how he is with Omega. A bit awkward and gangly at first, trying to find his footing and figure out how fast he needs to adapt and prefers to not be involved if the children cannot be reasoned with, but a good dad in a pinch. Probably better as an uncle, though; he likes being able to give them back to somebody when he’s at the end of his rope. 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Quick. He isn’t one to linger long in bed, there’s too much to do. He’ll make you some coffee, though, if you’re sleeping still. He prefers starting his day in silence, catching up on events, preparing his armor and rifle for the next mission.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Slow. He savors the time he can spend with you before sleep, the time when he’s allowed to wind down after a hard day’s work. He’ll read with you, watch a movie, talk about anything and everything.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He definitely waits. Crosshair can’t bear to be vulnerable if he can’t trust you 100% and then some. It puts him and his family at too high of a risk; what if you betray them? What if you use it to get back at him in a personal way for a slight he caused you? He’s like a river being formed. Slow to start, but grows quickly once he’s established that you’re safe.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He gets annoyed fast, sure, but properly angry? That takes a while with you. He does his best to rationalize things that happen with you or what you do if it bugs him, tries to see your point of view and why you made such decisions. It doesn’t always work, but hey, he’s trying.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers everything. Steel trap, that mind of his. Turned your nose up at a little treat for some “picky” reason? You’ll never see anything with that trait again. Offhandedly mentioned an animal you like? Within two weeks, your bunk is filled with it and little things like a plush figure still worm their way into your life through the years.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time you found a scarf you thought he’d like. The Batch was preparing for a mission on some forsaken ice planet, and you were trying to find ways to help everyone stay comfortable and alive. One merchant was selling handwoven scarves. The one you picked out had an intricate pattern of dark and light gray, highlighted with a pop of red. It reminded you exactly of his armor, and you couldn’t wait to show him. The light in your eyes when you shoved the scarf in his face to see is something he’ll always cherish.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

You know that meme that goes “If he had a million fans, I’m one of them” all the way down to “If he has no fans then I am dead”? That’s Crosshair. The only time he isn’t being protective is if he’s unconscious or dead. You have become his everything, and he doesn’t let go of that so easily. He’d train you whenever you asked (and sometimes didn’t), and try to watch over you when you’re separated. As for himself, he prefers knowing that you’ve got your commlink nearby in case he needs backup, or someone to pull him out of a bad situation. He trusts you with his life, and takes comfort in the knowledge that he can rely on you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Oh, he’d try so hard. Doesn’t mean he’d be much good at it; after all, he had no one to teach him. But he’s earnest and wants to make things work with you, and if that means figuring out what you like out of dates, celebrations, random shows of affection, then so be it.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

The rifle obsession can be a little weird sometimes. Thankfully he values you above his dear Firepuncher, but don’t expect him to drop it completely. He tends to stay up late reading mission reports, various strategies, and otherwise concerning himself with how to make the next mission go better than the last.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not very. He likes his appearance and shrugs off negative comments about it, but he isn’t obsessed by any means.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Absolutely. In the beginning, he could go without, but by the time you’re established he can’t fathom how he ever lived without you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

The toothpick purchases go way down after you guys hit the kissing stage. Having something else to occupy his mouth is a welcome distraction for his mind, and his wallet.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Someone who’s selfish. He and his family rely on each other, lean on one another. If he can’t trust someone to sacrifice part of themselves or something when it’s needed, he starts judging. If it becomes a habit, he cuts them off.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He’s the type to appear like he sleeps in one or two positions all night, but you get woken up more than once during your relationship from his hand smacking you in the face while he’s dead to the world.

[kopykunoichi]

Refresher for the people still confused about this...

In a galaxy far, far away, EVERYONE has midi-chlorians in their blood. The Force resides in all living things. It binds the whole galaxy together. Midi-chlorians are what allow beings to commune with the Force. The more midi-chlorians you have, the more potential you have to RESPOND TO and WIELD the Force. But notice that Asajj couches her statement with the line that those with a higher m-count were "believed" to be more capable of wielding the Force. There's a correlation, but it's not necessarily the only factor (see Sabine Wren).

This is the moment where the clones literally become stand-ins for the fans.

"What? If you can use the Force, you're a Jedi!"

No. If you can use the Force, you can use the Force. To use it as a Jedi uses it, you have to train as a Jedi. To use it as a Sith uses it, you have to train as a Sith. To use it like a Nightsister, you have to train as a Nightsister. Or you can get some rudimentary instruction and decide how you want to use it.

Jango Fett didn't have a high m-count, so his clones didn't either. But Omega and the rest of the Batch were special cases. As Cut said, the Kaminoans create with a purpose. Their deviations were intentional. Hunters abilities have always suggested he had a higher m-count than the others. But Omega's ability to perceive things before they happen (her bad feelings are nearly always spot on) and her affinity with animals have always been hints that her m-count is a little higher.

(Will update with screen grabs when I get them)

At the end of the episode, Omega asks Ventress if she has a high m-count.

Ventress: *looking at her nails* From what I've seen...no.

Omega: Then why is the Empire after me?

Ventress: Believe it or not, I don't know everything. But seeing as how a high m-count would make you a target, consider yourself lucky.

Omega: But I'm already a target.

Wrecker: Don't worry about it, kid. We'll figure it out. C'mon, let's get some chow.

Omega: *sigh* Thanks for trying.

Once they're out of earshot...

Crosshair: You're lying.

Ventress: About which part?

Hunter: You tell us.

Ventress: If Omega did have that potential, she'd have to be trained. Which would mean leaving you behind.

Hunter: That's not happening.

Ventress: What you want is irrelevant. The fact is, the Empire is after her, and they won't stop. If I were you, I'd leave this place. You're not as safe as you think you are. Our business is done.

Crosshair: I still can't figure out which side you're on.

Ventress: My own.

Okay, so Ventress is clearly not telling the truth about the m-count, which we know, because we've already seen Omega's charts. I really don't understand why people keep taking Ventress at her word here. We know better, and so do Crosshair and Hunter. My guess is that she's trying to protect Omega because she knows firsthand what it's like to be taken from your family and trained as a young girl.

We know that when Omega was at Tantiss, she was receiving transfusions of blood with midi-chlorians the same as all the other clones (harvested from the dead Jedi they're undoubtedly holding in the vault). They were taking her blood samples, but Nala Se kept throwing them away because she knew Omega would retain the higher midi-chlorian levels and she didn't want Hemlock to know that. The Emperor needs a clone that will maintain a high m-count so he can eventually get himself a new body. We know he does get that body, but not for decades - presumably because a) he never gets Omega, and b) the Batch is gonna take the fight to them at Tantiss and blow up their entire supply of midi-chlorian donors. Think about it - they're still working on Project Necromancer in The Mandalorian (24 years after The Bad Batch), but their resources are severely limited. The Empire has been all but wiped out, the Emperor is hiding out on Exegol, Dr. Pershing is clearly no Hemlock since he keeps killing his test subjects, and Grogu seems to be the only m-count donor they can get their hands on. The Emperor's cloned body is also deteriorating rapidly in TRoS, which suggests that even 25 years after The Mandalorian, he STILL hasn't figured out the right formula for cloning himself (which is good news for Grogu and Omega).

Which brings us back to the question, "Is Omega Force sensitive?"

The answer is, "yes", she is sensitive to the Force due to her elevated m-count. We've seen this all along. Hunter most likely is, too, and maybe some of the other Bad Batchers, to varying degrees. Tech could riot race, which takes incredible reflexes. Hemlock said that Crosshair didn't have a high m-count, and we don't know where Wrecker's abilities stem from. Omega can't wield the Force because she is untrained, but the potential is there. A person's aptitude to wield the Force seems to be strongly correlated to their m-count, but we've seen others with low aptitude eventually open the door to the Force with years of training and a decent dose of impending doom (we see this clearly with Sabine in Ahsoka, but it was also a topic in Legends).

Omega being Force sensitive doesn't mean that she has to leave her brothers. She can choose to pursue her training or not. She'd also have to find someone willing to train her. I'm not convinced Ventress is looking to take on any apprentices at the moment, but she could possibly connect Omega to Quinlan Voss (imagine the trouble those two would get up to).

But I don't think Omega will choose that path. One, it would just make her a bigger target. Two, I don't see her prioritizing power over family. She's a clone, and clones are ALL about family. They're Mando coded, not Jedi coded. Screw the space Buddhist lifestyle - clones parade their attachments around like trophies. Omega goes around collecting attachments like most kids collect rocks..."Hello, stranger trying to kill me, let's be besties."

[tanobatcher]

hello 😊 I love your fics so freaking much!! could I make a wolffe request please? Do you know the scene in the bad batch where rex and wolffe meet up unexpectedly? I was thinking maybe something where the reader is with rex and wolffe thought she was dead but she’s alive and its angsty then fluffy and they get back together 🩷 or anything you want! Ilysm thank you!!

rainfall

wolffe x fem reader summary: you and wolffe unexpectedly cross paths as the empire continues to pull you two apart. warnings: none a/n: HEHE TYSM u are too kind <33 unfortunately i rmb that scene all too well sigh my baby looks so tired :(

Rex didn’t tell you much about his encounter with Wolffe—and the Empire—the night your only base burned down. Perhaps he was afraid you’d go looking for him, only to reach a dead end. Or worse. Whatever the reason for this withheld information may be, it doesn’t stop you from thinking about him every day. That much hasn’t changed since the war ended.

“Try not to fall behind,” the captain advises from up ahead.

His voice is quiet enough not to draw any attention, which is difficult these days. Even the briefest glance can escalate into a permanent warning that convinces everyone to simply pass through instead of causing trouble. But trouble seems to have found you in this new line of work. It’s not so bad with friends.

“I’m right behind you,” you reply, barely dodging a passerby about to shoulder you into someone else. Coruscant crowds are always a different kind of traffic. There’s an additional rush to this one as a drizzle dances along the pavement, easing the city into a louder storm that’s soon to come. You blink away the raindrop that slips from the hood of your poncho and catches across your eyelashes, letting it trace a superficial tear down your face. It’s cold against your skin, but a worse chill runs down your spine when you notice a few troopers in the distance through the sea of bodies trying to get by.

Falling into step with Rex, you ask, “Do you think he’s here?”

He lifts his head, staring in the same direction as you. “Let’s not wait around long enough to find out.”

You don’t believe the attempted indifference in his tone, looking at him from the side as a numb acceptance tugs at your hope to see Wolffe…and get through to him. “He needs our help just as much as the others.”

For a moment, all you can hear is the surrounding rainfall pattering against any nearby surface. You think he’s not going to respond until he says, “I know.” The words sound guilty to your understanding, so you believe they taste bitter in his mouth. They’re conclusive enough to silence you, drawing your attention back to the mission at hand. You eventually break off from him, keeping your orders at the front of your thoughts as an abrupt downpour consumes the streets. They’re nearly empty now, with only a few patrols here and there. You see it all from this desolate rooftop, reminding yourself that the vaguely familiar voices don’t belong to the ones you know. But the exchange of comms is as simple as any nostalgic remnant of your past.

Suddenly, a much closer static noise raises goosebumps across the back of your neck. Shifting away from the ledge, your hand strays near the blaster resting against your thigh. “Try not to kill anyone today,” Rex had requested earlier, “This is supposed to be fast and quiet.”

Luckily for him, you don’t get the chance to take the shot in the foggy darkness. A figure emerges through the rain, also pointing his blaster at you, but it isn’t this lethal threat that freezes you like carbonite. It’s the grainy voice under his helmet that demands to know what you’re doing up here. You know that voice. You also know the faded markings all over his armor. And when you step into the light with your hands in the air to indicate surrender, he realizes he knows you, too.

“Wolffe!” you quickly push your hood off your head, not caring when the rain immediately tries to make you regret this, “Stop. It’s me.”

You can barely see him as the frigid water streams down your face, but you just make out the moment he lowers his blaster. It doesn’t immediately return to his holster, though, simply remaining at his side in his slightly trembling hand.

“You…remember, right?” You ask with hesitation, “You remember me?”

His blaster clatters to the floor, creating a sound so uncontrolled and defeated that you’re surprised. Your eyes cast downward at the abandoned weapon before finding him again, wishing he’d show you his face. Only then will you allow yourself to believe this isn’t a dream.

“Say something,” your voice nearly breaks, “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

You taste salt against your lips as it mixes with the rain, and you know you’re crying. It’s the one thing you told yourself you wouldn’t do for him anymore—not after being told to forget about him—but you’re tired of pretending this isn’t killing you slowly. Excruciatingly. You stand in front him, helpless in the same way he thinks of himself. You would give up on yourself long before even considering doing the same to him, though. If there’s anything he should know about you, it’s that.

“I’ve been trying to find you. Ever since Rex—”

He tenses and cuts you off. “You’ve spoken to Rex?”

You drop your arms down to your sides, shivering as you reply, “Does that surprise you?”

A wordless stare bridges the distance between your bodies, decreasing with every slow step he takes toward you. If it weren’t for the striking cold, you’d already be meeting him halfway and throwing your arms around his neck to make this moment feel real. Instead, you’re as still as a fawn who can’t anticipate the threat in front of her.

Wolffe reaches for you first, carefully pulling your hood over your head before cupping your face. He’s almost fearful as he cradles you like this, hardly applying any pressure in case you might evaporate right then and there. And he just looks at you for a moment, tilting your face up to the light so he can see you more clearly through all of these barriers. Your hands quickly find his forearms, holding him with more of a taut desperation.

“What?” You whisper, unable to bear any more silence from him.

“Just…making sure you’re not a ghost,” he murmurs.

You shake your head with as much room as he’s giving you in his hold. “I’m here.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“Come with me, then.”

Your suggestion is so unburdened, so certain that he leans back in retaliation. You feel his urge to run away, but you’re not losing him here. Not ever again.

“If Rex told you anything,” he says bitterly, “Then you already know my answer.”

You brush your hand against his helmet. “It doesn’t matter what he told me.”

“You came here with him. Didn’t you?”

“I—” you hesitate, and the moment is lost. He pulls away, retreating from your touch as he presses a finger to the side of his helmet. You can’t hear what’s being relayed to his comm, but you take him by the hand when his head turns toward you. It’s like a plea for mercy, one that you’re confident he’ll answer because you trust him with more than your life.

“No,” he says to whoever seems to be in his ear at the moment, “It was nothing. And while you’re still here, you can tell your supervisor that he’s one false report away from demotion.”

You wait a few breaths to ensure he’s off the comms before questioning, “Are you really in a position to be handing out threats like that?”

“You can’t be asking about any position I’m in when you decide to show up and cause more problems for me.”

You flinch. “You don’t mean that.”

He squeezes your hand ever so slightly, and it’s hard to tell if he’s trying to reassure you or intimidate you. “I do.”

“I don’t believe that,” you continue, “Just like I don’t believe you really think this is right for you.”

“As opposed to what? You?”

His voice is low but resentful, like he’s trying to sound mean when he’s far from it. He seems to think that if he hurts you just enough, you’ll find the courage to walk away before he does. Your brief stretch of composure betrays you when his words sink into your skin like teeth, craving more than your flesh and blood. This hunger reaches your bones. You look down with a knot in your throat, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Don’t do this,” you plead, “I’m not angry at you. I’m not here to judge you for anything.”

“I know.”

“Do you know what I dream about? Every night?” You continue shakily, “I dream about you. Seeing you again, in all the different circumstances I can imagine. But this is the real thing, and you’d rather push me away? Have you forgotten how much I lo—”

“I know,” he snaps, and immediate regret seizes his figure as he moves backward like he can’t be around you right now. You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth, inhaling deeply despite the tightness in your lungs. Quivering in silence, you take a step forward. And then another, until his arms come around you like a shield from the rain. If he won’t hear it, you make him feel it, running your hands across the stiff surface of his armor to embrace him in return. You’re so close to him that you can hear how hard it is for him to breathe, too. But this is all so easy for a sliver of time, enough for this frigid night to feel as warm as a summer’s day.

“You’re cold. You’ll get sick if you stay out here.”

“I’m not leaving without you,” you speak into his chest.

“You have to. It’s not up for debate.”

You frown and place your hands on either side of his helmet. “I can’t live with knowing you were right here, with me…and I just let that go. Can you?”

“Of course I can’t,” he whispers.

His tone is soft, and it unravels something inside of you as you imagine his expression underneath this mask. It’s exactly the one you see when you pull it off, not expecting him to allow you. The rain doesn’t even phase him. There isn’t so much as a twitch to his eyebrows when the water coming down much stronger now soaks his hair before running down his face. You’re slow to lower his helmet to your side, too focused on looking at him for the first time in a long time. You try to look for anything that’s changed—anything that might indicate he’s not the Wolffe you know. Your Wolffe. Then you realize everything in the galaxy could change, and it has, and he’s still your favorite person through it all.

“But…” he breaks the silence, wincing slightly, “Just knowing you’re alive…it’s enough.”

“Not for me,” you shake your head.

He studies your expression before sighing, bringing his hands back to your face. His lips find the crown of your head, and he kisses you there. You feel how gentle he’s trying to be until he pulls back, suddenly looking at you with a graver intensity.

“Rex didn’t mention you’ve been traveling together.”

You nearly laugh at the edge in his tone, finding it unserious despite the circumstances. “Must’ve slipped his mind when you were chasing him across the planet.”

He still appears displeased. “And he’s been keeping you safe?”

“They take good care of me,” you reassure him.

Dropping his shoulders in apparent relief, he nods even though a heavy sorrow darkens his stare. You feel as though he’s trying to apologize for not being there, but to that you only shake your head. The look you give him in return is easy for him to read, asking him for one last reconsideration. One last chance for him to make things right, to be taken care of the way he deserves.

“Come home with me, Wolffe,” you say one last time.

“Where’s that?” He rasps.

You press your mouth to his, kissing him softly as you taste the cold water clinging to his skin. Your wet faces slide together when he kisses you back with more desperation, long and lingering like he can never get enough air. It’s almost as if he never wants to stop.

“Wherever we want,” you gasp between kisses, “But it’s not here.”

He rests his forehead against yours with a sharp intake of breath. Rainwater runs off his eyelashes and down his cheeks, so disastrously beautiful that your heart hurts all over again. And yet, all you can do is smile. It catches him off guard, confuses him even.

So, he asks, “What is it?”

You shake your head. “I’m just happy you’re here.”

He looks stunned for a moment, but you notice the corner of his mouth lift in return. You’re unsure how long it’s been since he’s felt like this, only knowing that it’s been far too long for you. Everything about this moment makes the rest of the world obsolete to your perception, boiling down to the soft giggle you just can’t control. It doesn’t make sense, but it doesn’t have to. Not when you’re finally with him. Nothing else matters right now except for that truth.

“I didn’t think we’d ever see each other again,” he admits, “I keep thinking I’m just going to wake up disappointed again.”

“You won’t. Not tomorrow,” you promise him, “Not ever.”

“Yeah,” he takes his helmet from you before sliding it back over his head, “I believe that.”

You watch him closely as hopeful realization dawns on you like the early sunrise this city will soon see. You’re gone by the time morning arrives, just another forgotten shadow that slipped through the night. Only, you weren’t alone. And you know you won’t be anymore.

[slotmachines-fearofgod]

As per the poll results...

Alpha-17 hated taking care of the cadets. 

They were loud, unruly, undisciplined, and cocky little sons of bitches. The Kaminiise that interrupted his and Fordo’s training session had said something about the CC batches needing mentors now that Fett was determined to get back to bounty hunting. Every Alpha ARC was to take on a batch as a trial run, regardless of the fact that Fett was never much of a mentor to them. 

It didn’t matter. What mattered was that his batch was a fucking mess. Maze had even patted him sympathetically on the back when they were given their official assignments. In their first week, two of them, apparently the twins of the batch, had already managed to get themselves into three offices they weren’t supposed to be in, and snuck out of the barracks almost every night. 

Alpha made them run suicides for hours for it. 

He didn’t care for his batch the way some of his brothers did, with soft gestures and words like “ad’ika” or “vod’ika.” They were clones, and they wouldn’t find any sort of soft spot in the middle of a battlefield. He’d raise them the way he was raised, with sharp tongues and extra training, and they’d come out the other side better for it. 

That doesn’t mean he didn’t care at all. 

CC-2224 was standing guard outside their barracks, which was a bad sign, especially considering he’d been the first to learn that if they got in trouble, they got in trouble as a group. He was usually the most effective at dissuading the rest. 

Not tonight.

“Cadet,” Seventeen greeted sharply, “sitrep.”

CC-2224 didn’t look him in the eyes, another bad sign. It had been one fucking month, and he was already having to put up with shit like this. 

“B - CC-5052 is experiencing residual discomfort from the training exercise today, sir. My batchmates are helping him with recovery.” Only three years old, six standard, and CC-2224 was already the best soldier out of all of them. But he was shit at covering for the rest. 

“Why are you guarding the door?” Seventeen crossed his arms over his chest, looming over the kid. If it was really what he said, he’d been in there helping with whatever cramp 5052 was feeling. 

The day’s training hadn’t even really been that difficult from a physical standpoint. It was Seventeen’s least favorite type of resistance training: the mental kind. The Kaminiise had them start it early so their minds automatically built up resistances to-

Oh. 

“CC-3636 asked that I remain outside so as not to crowd CC-5052 and explain to any who may be monitoring the barracks what is going on.” Seventeen knew enough to read between the lines of that statement. He was there to discourage any particularly nosy Kaminiise from looking too closely for flaws. They would be monitored closely for the next few days for any defects, a fact that had been made clear to them before the exercises had taken place. 

CC-2224 still wasn’t meeting his eyes. He looked exhausted now that Seventeen was actually looking for it. He had a certain deadness to his face that Seventeen had seen many times both in the mirror and on others. If he remembered correctly, today had been the first day this specific crew had to undergo this type of training. CC-2224 was probably the best off if he was well enough to stand guard. 

Seventeen breathed out slowly, for the first time unsure what to do with the cadets. Usually their problems were solved with laps in the rain around the compound, or latrine cleaning duty. Emotional issues were more Fordo’s thing. But Fordo had his own batch to tend to. 

“Step out of the way cadet,” Seventeen ended up saying, trying not to make it too gruff. The quick, quiet knock against the door signaled that he didn’t quite manage that. Nonetheless, CC-2224 let him pass, albeit a bit slowly. Probably trying to buy his batchmates time. 

It was apparently enough. 

5052, 3636, 1010, and 411 were all in their bunks, with 1010 just barely managing to reach his as Seventeen opened the door. 5052 was turned away from him, taking the furthest bunk in the corner, while 411 and 3636 took the closest. 1010 and an empty bunk stood in the middle, with 5052’s pressed up against the wall. He assumed one of the two empty bunks, above 5052 or below 1010, was for 2224.

“5052,” his voice rang out across the eerily silent room. It felt heavy in their room tonight, not light or even charged with an air of mischief like he was accustomed to it being. 5052 raised his head blearily, and Seventeen ignored the fierce ache in his chest at the sight of his red, puffy eyes. “With me,” he ordered, ignoring the subtle sharp looks 1010 and 3636 were exchanging. 

5052’s eyes watered briefly, before his face smoothed out. He was already learning the importance of a blank face, which was good. He shouldn’t be using it with Seventeen, though. 

5052 climbed out of his bed, his posture rigid in a way Seventeen had never seen before. Were it not for the situation, he would’ve applauded this cadet for his professionalism, something they’d all been lacking ever since he met them. 

“Sir,” 411 called, and Seventeen spared him a brief glance, “I was wondering if-”

“Later, 411,” Seventeen said sharply, training his gaze on the kid who was approaching him like he was a death sentence. “5052 and I need to take care of something.”

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what effect his words were having on the cadets, especially 2224 who stood guiltily in the doorway. It was fine. Maybe they’d finally understand he was in charge, or learn they weren’t as invincible as they believed themselves to be. 

As 5052 reached him, Seventeen held out a hand. The cadet looked up at him, then back at his hand, almost confused. Seventeen sighed, grabbing 5052’s hand with his, practically dwarfing the kid. He tried to keep his posture open and non-threatening, but he got the feeling the look 5052 cast at his brothers was him saying goodbye. As he tugged the cadet out the door, he noticed 2224 make a move to grab his brother, before 5052 shook his head. 

2224 watched them go with tears in his eyes. 

Fucking aiwha-bait Kaminiise demogolka. 

He could hear the soft crying before 5052 and he had turned the corner down the hall. To his credit, the cadet didn’t shed a tear. He may have cried it all out earlier, but one look at the kid proved otherwise. He put on a brave face, but it was just a face. Any clone trooper would be able to see right through it. 

He pulled 5052 along in silence until they reached his office. Seventeen punched in his keycode with his free hand, keeping a tight grip on the kid so he didn’t try to bolt. It was only once they were inside that Seventeen dropped the hand and sat in his chair. 5052 stood at attention directly in front of him, just how they were taught. 

“What happened?” It was less of a request, and more of a demand. 

5052’s voice barely shook as he spoke, “I suffered the after effects of today’s training, sir.”

Seventeen leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his desk, “Symptoms.”

5052 pressed his lips together, tears shining in his eyes once again, before answering, “I-I felt a shortness of breath, tightness in my chest, numbness of limbs, hand tremors, and tunnel vision.”

“You had a panic attack,” Seventeen summarized for him, nodding along with the conclusion. 5052 gave one sharp nod, like it took all his courage just to admit it. Hell, it probably did. If any of the longnecks found out, he’d be decommissioned. Just like with the Alphas, they wanted this first batch of CCs to be perfect. 

“Yessir,” he whispered, his lower lip wobbling slightly. 

Seventeen sighed, “At ease, 5052. C’mere.”

5052 fell back into parade rest, but didn’t move, eyes darting between the wall and Seventeen’s face. Seventeen raised his eyebrow, and sat back in his chair. He could play the waiting game. 

Eventually, the cadet caved and rounded the desk before he stood at Seventeen’s side, still looking past him instead of at him. 

“I know 2224’s been going around giving out names, so what’s yours?” Seventeen asked gently. 2224 was practically asking for a decom with that little scheme, but he couldn’t help but admire the sheer bravery, or maybe stupidity, the cadet showed.

5052 shook his head just slightly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”

“Drop the sir, it’s just Seventeen for right now.” It would be easier if he put them on even footing. 

That got 5052 to look at him. 

There was a long pause where his mind was putting the pieces together, the fact that Seventeen took him to his office and not a long-neck, the gentle tone, the hand holding, the dropping of rank all beginning to click in his head. 

“I’m not - am I in trouble?”

Seventeen shook his head and 5052 sagged in relief almost immediately. This time, the tears did start, wracking his little body as his head dropped to his chest. Seventeen did the only thing he could and yanked the kid into his chest, calmly running a hand through his short curls and breathing in and out, getting him to match the pattern. 

It took a while, but 5052 began to calm down. 

“It’s alright, kid,” Seventeen said lowly, “You’re not the first vod to lose it after one of those training sessions and you won’t be the last.”

“Vod?”

“It means brother,” Seventeen said. He’d forgotten that less exposure to Fett meant the new generations wouldn’t likely have the chance to learn Mando’a. He’d have to talk to the other Alphas about fixing that. 

5052 nodded, before taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Seventeen allowed him that, just offering physical comfort like his batch was probably doing before he intruded. As much as they got on his nerves, they needed to know they were his vode, and he wouldn’t turn them in for something so little as a panic attack. He didn’t have to like them to treat them with some base decency. 

“My name is Bly,” he answered eventually, “Please don’t tell anyone.”

Seventeen chuckled, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He gently disentangled them, before bringing him into a keldabe. “Do you know what this is?” 

He shook his head no. 

“This is a keldabe. In a fight, a keldabe can be a useful tool in getting your opponents disoriented and putting some distance between you and them. It’d be a bit rougher than this, and probably leave you with a bruise if I really put some effort into it.” He held eye contact with 5052, even as the slightly caged look came back into the cadet’s eyes, “But between family, friends, or partners, it’s a sign of affection. A sign that we’re here for each other, through all this blood and fear. Something so brutal, so painful, turned soft and loving in the presence of those you trust.”

“Oh,” the kid breathed out, and Seventeen could tell the exact moment that he understood what he was telling him. 

“I’m not letting those demogolka get their hands on you, even if your brothers are assholes,” the small laugh was almost happy, “I can’t go easy on you, vod. If I do, we’ll both be slated for decomm. Do you understand?”

The kid - Bly nodded, a very small smile beginning to form, “Thanks, Seventeen.”

Seventeen pulled back and nodded, hiding his laugh at Bly’s sudden yawn. It was getting late, and these kids hadn’t gone through sleep deprivation training yet. It would be best to let them rest while they could. 

—

“Again,” Seventeen called, grinning smugly as Fox snarled at him. A year into their training with him and this batch had quickly shot to the top, with the exception of the clone in front of him. Fox’s scores had been dropping lately, though the little dickhead refused to tell him what had been going on, so they were doing this. 

Sparring until Fox either dropped or spilled. 

It was looking more and more like Fox preferred the first option. 

Usually, when one of them was being difficult, he had them train until their legs gave out on them and they could do nothing but talk. Sometimes it took a little more or less work, especially when it came to Fox. Bly was happy to talk to him since that first night he’d shown he was safe, though he’d caught comments from Wolffe or Fox about the baby of the batch getting special treatment. Kote and Ponds generally folded as soon as they were physically exhausted, and Wolffe just had to get angry enough to spit it all out in quick succession. 

Fox was different. He was smarter. 

He didn’t take training laying down, and was clever enough to keep his cool even when Seventeen could tell he wanted to do nothing more than scream. He’d never dream of talking about his issues to anyone outside his batch, and even then Seventeen was pretty sure he’d only talk to Ponds or Wolffe. He hadn’t even wanted to tell Seventeen his name until Wolffe nagged him enough to make him stand, red-faced, in front of the older clone and spit it out. Seventeen pulled him into a quick keldabe, before repeating the name and telling him it suited him. 

Right now wouldn’t be solved with nagging or a keldabe. At least, not the gentle kind. Fox needed blood, he needed to gnash his teeth and give and receive a little pain. Seventeen understood that just fine. 

“Fuck you,” Fox spat, before lunging again. He was getting sloppier, more tired, and Seventeen was able to pin him in under a minute. He held the struggling kid there for a few seconds until Fox realized he wasn’t escaping and went limp, tapping out once again. 

“Again,” Seventeen repeated once Fox had caught his breath. This time, it was less than thirty seconds before Fox quit fighting, just lying quietly on the mat. 

“You know,” Seventeen huffed after a few moments of stillness, “You’re supposed to tap out.”

Fox tapped lightly, and Seventeen let him up. He grabbed his shoulder before Fox could get too far back into position to go again. 

“Your flight time went up again.”

“I know.”

“You gonna do anything about it?”

Fox’s glare was enough to make almost anyone else back down. But not him. 

“The fuck do you care?”

Seventeen stepped back, getting into a fighting position, “Again.”

Fox didn’t have buttons to push like Wolffe, nor did he give up when he should like Ponds or Kote. He needed a little of both, a little more push than most would have advocated for a kid, to get him to crack how he needed to. 

They danced the familiar dance a few more times before, maybe the fourth or fifth time Seventeen pinned him, Fox let out a frustrated yell. That was close to what he was looking for.

“Kote took top spot for blaster modules this week.”

“I fucking know, okay?” 

That was what he was looking for. 

“I know Kote took top spot and I know Wolffe beat my fly time and I know Gree and his batch are taking over strategy mods! I fucking get it, so fuck off with whatever the hell this is!” Fox wriggled out from under him, and Seventeen let him go without a fight. He stayed facing away from Seventeen, but that was okay for now.

“I just…I hate this stuff! I hate being trapped in those rooms with those demogolka and fucking Fett watching over our shoulders like he ever did anything except leave and you acting like you give a shit when we both know you’re only here because we’re another assignment for you. I hate you pretending like we’re brothers or everything’s gonna be fine and we aren’t all gonna die soon or-or like any of us matter in the long run,” his rant was beginning to slow, and Seventeen approached slowly. The small break in his voice told him all he needed to know. 

“I don’t get the point when it doesn’t fucking matter if I die here or on a battlefield because death is death, and either way no one’s gonna care,” if he had to guess, the tears started about thirty seconds ago. 

The worst part is that Seventeen gets it. He’d lost one of his batch to the same thoughts. In the end, it hadn’t been the long-necks or a fight that did him in. Just a missing blaster and too much time alone outside. They all understood why, even if they never forgave him for it. 

It was because he understood that he placed one hand on Fox’s shoulder, forcing his vod to face him. 

“You’re right,” Seventeen rumbled, not leaning over and making himself small like he would for the others. Fox had always appreciated the truth above all else. 

“What?” He was right, tear tracks were carved down his vod’s face, and the small breathy disbelief looked like it might break the younger clone. 

“Fett’s a fucking asshole, don’t know why Kote likes him so much. The Kaminiise are indescribable in their cruelty, and I’m a dick. Doesn’t mean nothing you do matters, though.”

Fox scoffed and pulled away, trying to twist his face into that familiar hard sneer, “And what would you know about that?”

Seventeen shrugged, “Not sure. You don’t want me to know you. But I see the way Kote and Bly light up when their ori’vod is around. And I know Wolffe would never survive without you, and that Ponds would kill himself if you did what you’re talking about doing.” He looked this kid - his kid in the eyes. He needed him to know he understood. “You’re trying to get the Kaminiise to do it for you, so you don’t have to take the coward’s way out. I get it, vod’ika. But you know every single one of those little assholes in your barracks would hurtle themselves off the edge just the same if you died, by your own hand or not.”

“Wha-”

“Don’t do it for me,” Seventeen added, gentling his tone a bit as fresh tears sprang to his vod’ika’s eyes, “Don’t do it for Fett, and don’t you fucking dare do it for the long-necks. Do it for the brothers waiting for you back in the bunks. The brothers that would beat themselves up if they knew that you were even thinking about this. The brothers that are going to force you to cuddle with them even if they have to drag you kicking and screaming.”

Yeah, okay, maybe Seventeen liked to linger outside their door when he was done with his duties that didn’t involve five nightmares running around and making his life hell. Maybe he wanted to soak in his brothers’ laughter once in a while. So what. 

Fox looked at the floor, desperately trying to hold back tears. 

Seventeen sighed and knelt in front of him, opening his arms up and waiting. 

It took Fox less than thirty seconds to decide that yes, he did want the offered hug. Seventeen kept his laugh to a low rumble, a little closer to soothing than teasing. Fox squeezed him like he’d never been hugged before, even though Seventeen knew damn well that was a lie. It didn’t matter. 

“We don’t do it for ourselves,” Seventeen said lowly, “We’d never make it if we did. We do it for each other, or we don’t do it at all.”

Fox sniffed, and Seventeen didn’t even care that he was probably getting snot and tears all over his blacks. His little brother was going to be okay, and that’s what mattered. 

—

It took the Kaminiise two years to figure out who had started naming clones. Who started giving them just a little agency and independence. And when they found out, they made sure to make an example out of him. 

They came during the sleep cycles, when Seventeen wouldn’t be around to stop them, and took Kote from his bunk without a word. 

Two years in, one year after Seventeen had begun to call the littles his vod’ike, he found himself kneeling at the feet of the man he hated most in this place, begging for mercy for his charge. Fett was cold, he knew, but not so cold that his second favorite cadet would be left to rot. 

Kote had been in isolation for almost a week, and nearly every night Seventeen had a visitor from the batch crawl into his bunk with shaky hands and red eyes. A decomm would’ve been easier on them, but knowing their second-youngest was alive and alone, trapped and left at the hands of the Kaminiise, was breaking them.

Ponds and Kote had always been the anchors of the group. Ponds was the oldest, and the automatic go-to for most things. But Kote named them all, and every single one of them adored him for it. 

Fett was unyielding when Seventeen entered with accusations on the tip of his tongue. He was prepared to yell, to scream at the man who started this, who refused to leave them alone even after everything he’d already done to hurt them. But one look at the man had him falling to his knees, a single tear escaping his eyes as he pleaded with his head bowed. 

Fett said nothing, and Seventeen left feeling humiliated and angry.

Which was why, when Seventeen heard Kote had been let out and was currently in the care of Fett, he’d sprinted across the compound to collect his vod. 

He got there just in time to see Kote leave, tears dripping down his little face, crumpling against the wall outside of the dar’manda’s room. 

Seventeen said nothing, but knelt in front of his vod’ika and scooped him up, carrying him away from that place. 

As they walked, Kote’s hands fisted in Seventeen’s blacks as he tried to muffle his sobs into the older man’s chest. He clung to Seventeen like they were the last people alive on this planet, and Seventeen made sure to hold him just as tight. They made it to the Alpha barracks, which were thankfully empty, and laid down together on Seventeen’s bunk. 

Kote wailed for hours once he realized they were somewhere safe, away from long-necks and cold-hearted bounty hunters. Seventeen just held on, running a hand up and down his vod’ika’s back to comfort him, and whispered apologies into Kote’s hair. 

“Why didn’t they just decommission me?” Kote kept asking through tears, sometimes screaming and sometimes whimpering.

“Why did Prime have to name me?”

“Why didn’t I listen to him?”

“Why didn’t he find me sooner?”

So many questions that Seventeen had no answer to.

When the tears finally slowed, Seventeen spoke. 

“He tricked you, vod’ika. He’s a cruel and callous man and he tricked you.” 

Seventeen had always hated how Fett dug his claws into this kid. He didn’t care how it would hurt Kote, he didn’t care what would have happened to him. Seventeen was a violent man but even he didn’t understand why Fett would do this. 

“They couldn’t even say my name right,” Kote whimpered, “They kept saying ‘Cody’ and when I tried to correct them they - they just -” he broke off, burying his head into Seventeen’s chest and letting out another sob. 

“They will always hate you for the freedom you’ve given your brothers,” Seventeen rumbled, “And I will make sure they cannot deny your strength.” 

A plan was already forming in his head. He’d put Kote through extra training, make him into the best of the best. He’d make him good enough to rival an ARC. The Kaminiise couldn’t throw him out if he was useful enough, sharp enough, strong enough. 

“He named me Glory, Seventeen,” Kote cried, “Why? I don’t understand!”

Seventeen didn’t have an answer for that question either. 

“You have to stay away from him, Kote,” Seventeen said. He said it firmly, like it was an order, and not a plea, though they both knew better. Fett could easily take Kote away from Seventeen, away from his batch, and none of them except the kid crying into him could make it stop. 

“He - he loves me,” Kote wailed, “I’m his ad, he loves me! I can’t just-”

Seventeen cut him off harshly, “Kot’ika, if he loved you, I wouldn’t have had to beg him to interfere.” It was harsh, but his vod’ika needed to know. “He didn’t come looking for you. We did.”

Kote cried for a long time after that. He kept trying to make excuses, telling Seventeen about all the times Fett had supposedly cared. 

It just made Seventeen angrier. Fett had manipulated his kid into thinking he was more than a paycheck, more than food for a war that hadn’t even begun yet. Seventeen briefly entertained the possibility of killing him for it. 

Out of all the tools they’d been given, hope was never one of them. The kid screaming into the pillow was proof as to why. 

Kote eventually tired himself out enough to pass out on the bunk, and Seventeen sighed in relief as his breathing finally evened out. 

Both Maze and Fordo poked their heads in, for once not laughing at the sight of Seventeen curled around one of the kids he’d once told them he’d never call his own. They told him Kote’s batch had been alerted to his release, and they’d immediately demanded answers from the older ARCs, meaning Seventeen would probably need to make an appearance soon to ease their fears.

Seventeen just nodded along to the debrief, a wave of exhaustion hitting him as well. He eventually gathered himself enough to sit up, taking Kote with him. The kid just shifted sleepily, his face scrunching up in dismay even though he didn’t wake.

“They’re going to be looking for an excuse,” Fordo said quietly after a moment, “He needs to keep his head down.”

“I know,” Seventeen murmured. 

“Seventeen,” Maze said, “He’s terrified. Whatever you’re planning, leave him out of it.”

Seventeen just sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back against the wall. 

“I’m serious. He needs to stop making ripples, good or bad. He’s already too individualistic for their tastes.”

Maze was right. Kote had always been headstrong and stubborn, just like the rest of his batch. They all relied on each other too much and not only had it taken Kote down, but the rest of them either refused to or simply couldn’t pull themselves together in his absence.

“You boys remember our training on Rishi?” Seventeen asked after a moment. 

It was a stupid question, of course they did. They’d been dropped off on that moon, all in separate locations, with no comms or supplies to help them except what was expected in emergencies. They had to survive like that for a month before they were picked up again. It was the worst experience of any of their lives. 

“We need a program like that for them,” he said after a moment, ignoring the twin glares sent his way. Every single Alpha had become incredibly protective over their batchers in the two years the program had been going on. 

“Not exactly like that,” Seventeen assured them, “But their training is a lot more strategy and team focused. They need something closer to the way the ARCs were trained.”

Fordo snorted, “ARC training is a hell of a lot more brutal than what they’ve had to do so far. And it started a lot earlier.”

“It would make them indispensable,” Seventeen said after a moment, and he knew the silence following that statement meant he’d won. 

Still, he sighed and stood, clutching Kote against his chest, “I’m gonna get him back to his batch. I have a feeling they’re about to come looking.”

—

Wolffe was smiling, which immediately put Seventeen on edge. Wolffe had a few kinds of ‘smile’. There was the genuine one, which was rare but always rewarding, the smirk, which was the most common and meant he’d just kicked someone’s ass in hand to hand training and was about to get far too cocky about it, and then his grin, which meant he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to. 

Like now. 

Seventeen folded his arms across his chest, giving his best glare at the cadet. They were six months into ARC training, a year out from the event that kick started the idea, and all it had done was make his batch harder to handle. 

Not only were they trouble-makers, they were now troublemakers with all the strategy and training of their older counterparts. 

“It wasn’t me this time,” they’d finally hit that funny age where their voices no longer matched their faces, and all of them grew at different rates. It was maybe the one time in their lives they would look genuinely different from each other. 

Seventeen added an eyebrow raise to his glare. 

“Kote found him first.”

Him?

“It was his idea,” Wolffe was beginning to shrink back just a little under the glare, “But he’s not making any trouble.”

Seventeen snorted, “The day you di’kuts don’t make trouble for me is the day you’re all dead and buried.”

Wolffe flipped him off. 

“That’s ten extra suicides, cadet.” Seventeen smiled as Wolffe’s face immediately dropped and he started whining. 

“It was just a joke, you’re mean to us all the time,” Wolffe argued, not helping his case in the slightest. 

“I’m keeping you assholes alive,” Seventeen shot back, “Now what did you do?”

Wolffe scowled, replying, “Come on, old man,” before turning and marching down the hall.

“And that’s twenty,” Seventeen called after him.

Wolffe kept complaining the whole way there, even when Seventeen cuffed him on the back of the head for it. He led them to the CT barracks, which was new. To his knowledge, his batch never really came down here. There was no need to.

The experimental ARC babysitting program had gone well enough that when the CT clones were produced and of age, several Alphas had been relegated to managing these cadets, whom he’d been assured were either much less or much more rowdy than the CCs, depending on the batch. 

Alpha had just been assigned his first case, though it was a curious one. Two of the batch had been decommed almost as soon as they came out of their tubes, and the other three didn’t get along the way most batches tended to. They were first generation CTs, so some defects were expected, but the vitriol with which they treated each other certainly was not. 

It had been a jarring change from the crew he’d been taking care of for almost four years now.

Wolffe led him to a supply closet off to the side in the barracks, chattering all the way about how this was Kote’s fault. Seventeen ignored him in favor of looking around at the empty bunks, internally sighing about whatever scheme his vode had cooked up this time. 

When Wolffe opened the door, however, the cadet inside of the closet threw Seventeen for a loop.

“7567?” He asked, surprised. He was one of the batchers Seventeen had been assigned to take care of, the one that got picked on the most, actually. What really surprised him, however, was the state he was in. 

His usual obvious blonde head of hair had been shaved carelessly almost completely off. He could see a few cuts dotted across the kid’s head, and the kid himself looked like he’d lost a pound or two since the last time Seventeen had seen him nearly a week ago. 

He’d thought the kid was avoiding him, but there was obviously something more going on. 

“You know him?” Wolffe asked, sounding surprised and completely ignoring the sharp glare being thrown his way from the kid hiding in the closet. 

“He’s one of mine,” Seventeen responded, still searching for any more visible wounds or changes to his newest charge, “Haven’t been able to find him for a week.”

“Oh, uh, that may have been our fault,” Wolffe said, looking back at 7567, “What? Why are you glaring at me?”

“I told you not to tell anyone,” 7567 bit out, the harsh tone being somewhat off put by the higher pitch of his voice. He was just a bit younger than the CCs, and wouldn’t hit the growth spurt that truly mattered for another year or two. 

“Yeah, well, suck it up. Kote’s been going crazy trying to hide you from your batch and the Alphas,” came the nonchalant reply, and Seventeen furrowed his brow. Why would Kote be trying to hide 7567 from his own brothers?

“I figured he could help,” Wolffe continued, and Seventeen ignored the brief flash of warmth at the statement of trust. 

Now it was his turn to be glared at, and Seventeen took a second to admire the size of 7567’s balls before matching it with his own sneer. 

“You’ve been skipping training, cadet.”

“I didn’t want to,” he replied sulkily, “Kote said it wasn’t safe.”

Seventeen hummed, “And why would he say that?”

7567 hesitated for a moment, before quietly admitting, “He caught them doing…this,” he gestured to his head, and a sick moment of realization came over Seventeen, “He scared them off, but he didn’t want me to go back with them.”

Batchmates teasing each other was one thing, but hurting one another?

That would have to be dealt with. 

Seventeen sighed as he moved in front of Wolffe and crouched in the doorway of the closet, “So Kote, being the di’kut he is, hid you in here.”

7567 shrugged, “‘S not terrible.”

“You eaten recently?”

The cadet shook his head no after a moment, and Seventeen turned back to look at Wolffe, “Why exactly did you boys think this was a good idea?”

Wolffe crossed his arms, “I didn’t know until yesterday, ask Kote.”

“Not helpful,” Seventeen grunted, before turning back to 7567, “Since you and Kote are so tight, I assume you’ve got a name.”

7567’s eyes widened comically at him, giving him away in an instant. Of course Kote did, he’d always had a soft spot for the littles. 7567 still looked at Wolffe first, who must have given an affirmative.

“Rex,” he said quietly.

Seventeen nodded, “Alright Rex, with me. Wolffe, you too.”

Rex looked at him with slight suspicion in his eyes, and Wolffe let out a small noise of complaint. 

“Come on boys,” he tried again, adding a little bark to his voice that had them both scrambling to follow him out the door, “Medics first, then food.”

Once they reached a medical droid, Seventeen sent Rex off behind a curtain with it, and sat down next to Wolffe, giving him the ‘you’d better start talking’ look. 

Wolffe grumbled for a bit before admitting, “His batch are assholes. Too aggressive with him. He learned how to bite back, but Kote said it was pretty bad when he found them. Kid was bleeding like crazy and scared the shit out of Kote, who tried to take him here. He didn’t let him, on the grounds of his mutation, and wouldn’t budge.” Wolffe ran a hand through his hair, a tick they’d all begun to pick up from Seventeen, “He’s with us until further notice.”

Seventeen sat back in his chair, absorbing the information for a moment.

“Good,” he said simply, ignoring the look of confusion and surprise Wolffe sent his way. 

“Sir?” Wolffe asked, and Seventeen shifted in his chair, keeping an ear out for Rex. 

“He needs a batch,” Seventeen responded, “He’s too skinny and too short, probably from lack of nutrition, and his hair is going to make him stand out. He keeps going the way he’s going, his batch will kill him before the Kaminiise get the chance.”

“Oh,” Wolffe said, a little quieter this time. 

“You boys got lucky,” Seventeen continued, still keeping an eye on the curtain, “You got each other. He doesn’t have that.”

“He’s stubborn,” Wolffe said after a moment, “He’s apparently been fighting Kote every step of the way. Doesn’t want anyone to think they have to take care of him.”

That was good. That showed spirit. If Rex had allowed himself to be cowed, to back away without a fight and shrink into the shadows, Seventeen would have had a lot more work to do. As it was…

“He won’t be around his batch if I recommend him for ARC training,” Seventeen suggested quietly, “Of course, he’d need some older vode helping him out, the way I did with you.”

Wolffe snorted, “Not sure you helped us out so much as put the fear of the Manda into us.”

Seventeen grinned down at him, “Got you moving, didn’t it?”

Wolffe rolled his eyes and settled back into his chair, now eyeing the curtain in an equally curious and concerned way, “Think he’ll make it? He’s a CT.”

Seventeen shrugged, “Don’t know. Didn’t know if you boys were going to make it either.”

Wolffe eyed him critically, “What do you mean you didn’t know?”

Seventeen chuckled, “You’re smart and strong, but it takes more than that to complete what you’re being put through. It’s only been six months, and you’ve yet to hit the worst of it.”

Wolffe groaned, “Why are you so cryptic?”

Seventeen looked back at him, a gleam in his eye, “Because it pisses you off.”

Wolffe opened his mouth to say something that probably would’ve earned him another hour in the gym, when the curtain swung back, revealing Rex looking even grumpier than earlier. His head had a few small bacta patches on it, and he promptly ignored the droid in favor of marching over to where Seventeen and Wolffe were sitting.

The droid ignored Rex’s obvious unhappiness and followed him over, this time addressing Seventeen.

“A-17,” it began, “I believe this CT-7567 has a serious defect that must be looked at. Chromosome number-”

“I’m aware,” Seventeen growled at the droid, “We’re all aware. Now fuck off.”

The droid paused for a moment, unsure what to do with itself. 

“I must report this to Nala Se,” it finally concluded, and Seventeen just huffed in response. 

After a beat of silence in which the droid scurried away, a small voice behind Seventeen spoke, “Is she going to decommission me?”

Seventeen almost laughed. Almost. 

Instead he said, “Kid, she knew about your hair the second you left your tube. If you aren’t slated for it yet, you won’t be any time soon.” He turned to face his cadets, hiding his smile at the way Wolffe acted like he wasn’t just wrapping Rex up in a hug. 

“C’mon,” he said, “let’s go get you boys some food.”

—

Today was the day.

His batch was going to take and pass the final test, and become honorary ARC troopers. Two years after they started on the shortened ARC modules, and they’d all become so much more than the Kaminiise ever believed they could be. He’d stood in front of all of them before they marched off for their tests and told them he was proud of every single one, no matter the outcome. 

Rex sat with him, both quietly pretending they weren’t shitting their brains out with anxiety, and they waited. 

Fox and Wolffe came out together, wearing twin grins, and Seventeen knew without asking. He wrapped them up, squeezing the life out of them and ignoring the groans of embarrassment. Kote came out thirty minutes later, having completed and passed his own exams and combat trials, followed by Bly soon after. 

They all sat and waited for Ponds. 

There was an air of anxiety coming from his cadets, and he knew why. 

They were supposed to graduate together, to be the first full batch to make it across the finish line. They’d worked hard for this, studied and trained together for years. They knew the manuals inside and out and had personally tested themselves against every single ARC and trainer they could coax onto the sparring mats. 

Ponds’ absence sent a shockwave through that steady confidence. 

An hour later and they were still sat there, all uneasy, all rhythmically bouncing their knees in near unison. 

An hour and a half later, the doors opened, and they all tensed, prepared for bad news.

What they were unprepared for, however, was a bloody, limping Ponds to walk through with the biggest grin any of them had seen on his face. 

“What the fuck,” Wolffe was, of course, the first to speak. “What the fuck!” He repeated, louder and more worried. 

This sent all of them into a frenzy, rushing toward their injured vod and checking him over, all shouting over one another and demanding to know what happened. Ponds just laughed at their concern, though Seventeen caught the slight wince at the movement.

After a few moments, he convinced them to quiet, and breathed deep, still grinning like a maniac.

“We passed,” he said after a slight pause, and the whole bunch erupted in cheers. They pulled themselves into a circle, Rex and Seventeen watching fondly from the outside, and congratulated each other, giving out hugs and keldabes left and right. Seventeen was fairly sure Wolffe and Fox hit each other a little too hard, and he smiled at the resulting stumble from the boys.

They were nearly seventeen standard years, which meant as soon as the war they were being bred for started, they’d all be shipped out without a moment’s hesitation. It was that thought that made Seventeen allow them to celebrate loudly, noisily, and unashamedly despite the attention it might have drawn. 

Eventually, they calmed down, and Seventeen muscled his way to the center, planting himself in front of Ponds. They were too tall now for him to need to kneel and get on their level, but still short enough that he could loom adequately. 

“Vod’ika,” he began lightly, settling a comforting hand on Ponds’ shoulder, “What happened?”

Ponds’ grin shrank slightly, but his answer was steady, “What do you mean? I passed!”

Seventeen allowed himself to smile at the no-longer-cadet’s enthusiasm, “I know, and I’m proud, but why are you hurt?”

“It was part of the test,” Ponds furrowed his brow in confusion, looking around at the others, “Didn’t all of you…” he trailed off, for the first time taking in the lack of injuries around him. Seventeen could see the moment realization dawned on his face, as well as feel the rising fury coming from the brothers behind him. 

“No,” Seventeen said gently, shaking his head, “That wasn’t part of the test.”

“Oh.”

“Ori’vod-” 

Seventeen cut whoever it was off with a short look behind him. They all looked equally scolded. 

He hated this was happening during their moment of triumph, but he knew if he didn’t address it, no one would. 

“Pond’ika,” Seventeen tried again, “What happened?”

Ponds stilled, his face becoming blank as he processed what was going on. Seventeen squeezed his shoulder a little tighter, becoming a grounding point until his vod’ika was ready. 

“I was going into my counter-insurgency exam and Ward was in the ring. He said he and I would spar and that I had to be prepared for anything,” his voice and expression remained steady, even as Seventeen’s grew concerned, “He flipped out a knife at one point and…” Ponds looked down and gestured to his leg and torso. 

“Why weren’t you wearing armor?” Kote asked from behind Seventeen. 

“He told me to take it off,” Ponds replied simply. 

Seventeen sucked in a breath. Ward was a grade A asshole, every ARC knew this. His ‘counter-insurgency’ fighting was just an excuse to fight dirty, to scar up troopers and taunt them for their lack of skill. 

Skirata should have been in charge of this exam, not Ward. Skirata had always been the kindest of the Cuy’val Dar, and by the looks on the rest of the batcher’s faces, they were thinking the same thing.

“Okay,” Seventeen said simply, “Take off the armor and let’s take a look.”

Ponds shook his head, “Can we do this in the barracks?”

Seventeen nodded, and immediately Wolffe and Fox were at Ponds’ side, helping him take the weight off his injured leg. Rex gave a quieter congratulations to Kote, his obvious favoritism not quite overshadowing his worry as he constantly looked back to check up on Ponds. Bly fell into lockstep with Seventeen, and their little crew easily made their way to the barracks. 

As soon as they got inside, Kote grabbed the medical kit and presented it to Seventeen, who began to set things out on the floor. He knelt in front of where Wolffe and Fox had sat Ponds on Wolffe’s bunk, but gave them enough space to help Ponds remove his armor. 

Bly settled in next to Ponds when Fox vacated the spot to go lock the door, and sucked in a breath as Ponds unbuckled his thigh gauntlet. Blood rushed from the wound, which had previously been pressured by Ponds tightening the straps to keep the wound secure, but it wasn’t deep enough to hit bone, for which Seventeen was glad. 

His torso was a little more complicated, the unnatural shift of skin telling Seventeen that one of his ribs was likely broken. If it had punctured a lung, they would’ve known by now, and he breathed a little easier with the knowledge. 

“Kote,” he called quietly but firmly, “Comm Aven, tell him we’re gonna need some help.”

Ponds opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut when he received several glares from around the room. 

“Can’t believe you passed with this,” Seventeen mumbled, “You should’ve tapped out when he flipped out the knife.”

“We were all supposed to pass,” came the answer Seventeen had already guessed. 

“I know,” he sighed, “And this just proves how much you deserve it, but next time, you tap out, got it?”

There was no nod or sign that he agreed, which Seventeen had also expected. Ponds was just as stubborn as the rest of them, no matter how much he hated to admit it. 

He heard Kote talking quietly in the background and got to work, Rex occasionally pushing certain supplies his way and Wolffe and Bly talking calmly to Ponds as Seventeen went about patching him up. 

They didn’t want full batches to graduate ARC training, because then they could prove it was a waste of time and money. He’d known that the second he and a few others proposed the idea to Fett, the Kaminiise, and the Cuy’val Dar and nearly every single one of them had soured. 

Well they could take their elitist dar’manda bullshit and shove it up their asses. His batch had passed, regardless of Ward’s best efforts, and shoved it in every single one of their ugly faces. 

Ponds’ injuries had luckily not impacted the general mood after the initial shock, and soon they were all sharing details and comparing experiences in their different tests. They all laughed at Bly for forgetting to fill out the last digit of his number during one of the written tests, and Fox followed it up with how Wolffe was so nervous he forgot to load his blaster during the firing range exams. That was followed by a smack, which was followed with an insult, which was followed with Seventeen having to reach out and grab Wolffe before he made a move to tackle his brother. 

Nearly nine years old and they still acted four. 

Aven came in a few moments later, taking over the medical side of things for Seventeen, who took the opportunity to give the eldest a keldabe. Ponds smiled into the hold and relaxed a little further. 

They were no longer cadets, not as of that afternoon, and Seventeen knew he would have to let them go soon. 

Still, he sighed as Rex ganged up with Wolffe against Fox in their bickering, and turned around to scold his vod’ika.

—

In the years the war dragged on, Seventeen saw very little of his batchers. Rex and Kote, who was going by Cody in front of the natborns, visited when the war came to Kamino, and introduced him to vod’ika of their own. Wolffe called after what happened with Ventress, showing off his own scar from his encounter with the Sith acolyte. Bly commed often, asking mostly about business, but he’d once let slip something about him and his general. And Fox…Fox he never really saw. 

But they’d all gathered, either on a call or in person, to say goodbye to Ponds. 

Rex had sent him a message saying the batch had already had their night of grief, wallowing in each other’s arms. He was glad they’d taken the time for themselves, but even happier they still trusted him with this. 

They’d all formed little batches within their battalions, as they should, but he’d never really been able to take care of another batch like he did with them. There were too many cadets on Kamino now to focus on them one group at a time. 

So even if it was over a call, he was relieved to see their faces, and ached when they all looked to where Ponds usually stood during these video conferences.

It was quiet at first, and Seventeen took the opportunity to drink each of them in. They were all so much older, so much more exhausted, then he remembered them being. Fox and Wolffe in particular looked like hell, and though he knew it was a combination of grief and whatever osik they’d been handling recently, it didn’t look right on them. 

Kote spoke first, telling Seventeen what happened and declaring Boba dar’manda with vitriol hidden behind his teeth. He and Rex were in person together, as were Bly and Wolffe, and Seventeen appreciated Rex putting a hand on his shoulder to ground his ori’vod. Bly went next, starting to tell a story about Ponds during a fairly recent fight that brought small grins to his brothers’ faces. Wolffe joined in, as did Rex, and soon they were all at least smiling. 

The one vod that never spoke was Fox. 

It puzzled Seventeen how quiet he was. Fox had always been the first to speak up, the first to step in, the first to very loudly give his opinion. But now he was silent. He looked almost like he was disassociating. 

“Fox’ika?” Seventeen called, “You alright?”

Fox looked up once he noticed all the attention was on him and nodded quickly, “‘Course,” he assured them, his tone still sounding off, “Just…reminiscing I guess.”

There were a few murmured agreements from around the table, before the conversation turned back to Ponds. Seventeen caught Wolffe looking over worriedly a few times. He idly wondered how many of them made the effort to keep up with each other. He hoped all of them, but knew better than to assure himself of it. 

The call went on for a long time, most everyone having a good cry at some point. Seventeen was the only one that left with dry eyes when it was said and done. 

He sighed as their blue forms flickered out of existence, and looked across his desk. It was scattered with paperwork, test results, security reports, all the paperwork he’d been relegated to once his leg made it so he could never fight again. 

He unlocked the lowest drawer in his desk and pulled out a bottle of moonshine Spur had snuck to him once Ponds’ death had been officially reported back to Kamino. He poured himself a drink and sat back in his chair, scrolling through old comms. There weren’t many with Ponds, just little questions his vod’ika had here and there, and a few scattered conversations about life in the thick of things. 

They were clone troopers, which meant they didn’t get holos or recordings of kids running around just being kids. They didn’t get keepsakes or days that could be spent talking and catching up. He’d known he would have to let them go eventually, and that when he did, there would be nothing to tether them to him.

It still hurt. 

Three glasses in, he picked up his comm again, and pulled up his conversations with Fox. 

It had been nearly six months since they last talked. 

A-17: I’m being sent to Coruscant soon for an escort

A-17: We should catch up

He waited a few minutes, then put his comm down. Fox was a Marshal Commander now, he’d respond when he could. 

Until then, Seventeen was content to drink to the memory of both Ponds, and the boys his batchers used to be.

[rumbelleshowdown]

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Author: redvelvet

Group B: coming down with cold; pancakes; "you are kidding me"

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Hot and Cold

Belle crouched, bringing herself level with the cast iron pan. Its surface glistened with a thin layer of hot fat, and the discs of batter that she’d carefully ladled in had bubbled and puffed and started to set. She’d done everything perfectly this time, following the instructions to a tee. 

Of course, that was what she had thought last time, and the time before that. And this was possibly the least involved recipe in the entire cookbook. Hope sprang eternal, though, even for a hopeless princess-turned-caretaker. She could do this. Anyone could do this.

And it was time.

Plucking a thin metal spatula from its home in the porcelain crock next to the grand stonework stove, Belle tested its weight and balance before choosing the angle of attack. One thrust and it was fully between a cake and the pan; another flick and she’d turned it, landing it on the hot surface.

Victory. She closed in on the second. No time for hesitation now; she slid the spatula underneath, and with a snap of her wrist…

Half of it was climbing the steep side of the pan. Belle could have screamed, but there was no time for that. She made quick work of turning the remaining two pancakes, and once that was done she was left with one laying perfectly, another bent at a ninety degree angle, and two overlapping at the edges—a pancake partial eclipse.

The spatula landed on the cooktop with a clatter. It would have been the floor, if there wasn’t still a full bowl of batter. If she hadn’t already resorted to porridge, thirteen days in a row. If the sun wasn’t already climbing in the sky.

If it wasn’t already time to remove the damned things and begin the second batch.

With a sigh, she set about scraping the wayward pancake from the side of the pan.

They weren’t so bad, she told herself. Certainly misshapen, but what did that matter once they were past the lips? And what was a bit of uneven browning between friends? Or between an evil wizard and the princess he’d dealt for?

Right as she was about to push through the double doors, she hesitated. Maybe it would be better to start over. Or to make it a full fortnight of porridge?

But if she knew Rumplestiltskin—and it had been long enough that she did indeed feel like she knew him, or a few of his eccentricities, at least—breakfast set the tone for the rest of the day. If kept waiting for too long in the morning, he was liable to be more beastly than usual.

He’d been getting snippy about porridge too, and she had put herself through a lot of trouble to get that exactly right. Who knew that something as simple as serving breakfast required bravery?

Belle took a deep breath, put on the happiest of faces, and paraded in.

“Tea’s coming,” she said cheerily, then busied herself with arranging a place setting for him. She carefully avoided making eye contact, but she could see well enough through peripheral vision that he was sitting at the wheel. 

Was he watching her? If he was, did she even want to know?

Once the flatware was in place, she had no choice but to face him head on.

Rumplestiltskin aimlessly pushed the wheel, staring blankly at a spot somewhere beyond his hand. That was unusual enough, but even more unusual was the wool blanket he’d draped over his shoulders. There was a fire crackling in the hearth, and the room was roasting.

“Are you alright?” Belle asked, before she could stop herself. Drat. Why hadn’t she taken the easy opportunity to escape?

The wheel slowed and stopped, abiding by friction rather than his hand. He didn’t answer and didn’t look up until she had ventured within arm’s reach.

“Keep your distance,” he muttered, “in case this is catching.”

Belle took a large step backwards. Catching? 

“You’re ill? I didn’t think the Dark One could get sick!”

“I don’t,” he snarled, wrapping himself tighter in his blanket as he stood and shuffled to the table. “I’m certain this is a supernatural affliction of some sort.”

“Who would have done this to you?”

“Only a precious few would be foolish enough to try,” he grumbled. “Let’s just say that the bridge trolls should count themselves lucky that I need them alive for now.” With a sniffle, he plunked himself down in his chair and surveyed his plate. “What happened here?”

“I happened,” Belle sighed. “Sorry. ” He raised an eyebrow and poked at his fork without picking it up. “I’m sure they taste better than they look. And isn’t the saying, “feed a cold, starve a fever”?”

“I think I am feeling feverish, actually.”

Belle planted both hands on her hips. “Oh, stop. How do you expect to feel better if you don’t eat?”

At that, he pressed a finger to his brow. “Don’t worry your pretty—ah.” He waved her off with his other hand. “Don’t worry your head about it.”

A flash of warmth rose into her own cheeks, entirely unrelated to whatever was plaguing Rumplestiltskin. She turned away; quickly enough, she hoped, that he hadn’t noticed.

“The tea’s coming right up,” she called over her shoulder.

For all of its unsettling charms, the Dark Castle wasn’t haunted; save for the serenade of the odd enthusiastic owl, Belle slept well enough at night.

Because owls weren’t known for their mastery of human language, being pulled from sleep by the repeated hiss of her name was not something she had ever expected.

Half-dreaming and unable to see the source of the call in the darkness, she bolted upright and shrieked.

“No need for theatrics,” Rumplestiltskin grumbled. “It’s only me.”

Belle clawed for her blanket and pulled it up to her collarbones. “What—what’s going on?”

“I need your help, dearie.”

“Now?”

“Oh, no.” His impish affectation, it turned out, was even more off-putting when nasally. “I’m here in the dead of night to request a spot in your social calendar for tomorrow afternoon. Yes, now.”

He was already halfway down the stairs. Belle shook her head in disbelief, threw on her robe, and followed him into the darkness.

“How’s this?”

Rumplestiltskin was hunched over the workbench, but he dragged himself up to examine the mortar at her query.

“More elderberry,” he snapped before cradling his head in his hands again. And less flame on the cowslip, it’s about to boil over.”

Belle sighed, popped a small handful of berries into the mortar and picked up the pestle to start grinding again.

“By all means, continue doing that loud enough to wake the dead.” he moaned into his hands.

“I’m not sure that it’s possible to quietly grind plant matter into paste,” she quipped back. “But you’re welcome to do this yourself, if you’d like.”

“Could I see straight, I would.” He glanced over again. “More catnip—never mind, it’s good enough.” Reaching across the table, he selected a tiny vial and handed it to her. “Three drops of this, now.”

Belle squinted at the spidery writing on the label. Monkshood Extract.

“You’re kidding me. This is poisonous!”

“It’s toxic,” he corrected, and her eyes nearly rolled out of her head. “And not for me. Three. Drops.” When she failed to respond, he looked up again. “Please.”

She shook her head in disbelief, then popped the cork from the vial. “I wonder if people will believe me when I tell them that the Dark One killed himself with his own cold medicine.”

“Haven’t you heard that the dose makes the poison?” He watched her carefully this time, glassy-eyed. One drop. Two.

“Not that the dose makes the toxin,” she breathed. Three. Belle looked at him expectantly. Rumplestiltskin looked back at her.

The cowslip brew bubbled over.

“Oh no, I’m so—” Belle flailed for a rag, but Rumplestiltskin put his hand on hers.

“Don’t,” he said, and with a wave of his free hand the whole mess disappeared in a cloud of smoke. “Are you trying to give yourself a burn?”

“No, I…” she looked down at the fingers encircling her wrist, then threw her other hand to his forehead, then his cheek. “If anyone’s burning up, it’s you, Rumplestiltskin.”

He leaned in to her touch and closed his eyes, and Belle made a decision of her own.

“Enough magic for tonight,” she said. “I have a better idea.”

“I can’t believe you trusted me to do all that,” Belle mused, wringing a cloth over a bowl of water. When she pressed it to his forehead, he sighed and tension lines around his eyes smoothed. If the Dark One’s demise via pharmaceutical misadventure was an outlandish tale, what did that make nursing him back to health while he languished on the couch? “I can’t even cook breakfast.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” Rumplestiltskin pinched the bridge of his nose without opening his eyes. “And I can’t think of anyone else who would have allowed herself to be dragged from bed.”

“I wasn’t aware I had a choice.”

His eyelids opened into slits. “You always have a choice.”

“Well,” Belle said, wishing she still had something to do with her hands. “I’m here to take care of you, aren’t I?”

“Not like this.”

“I mean, I know I’m terrible at it,” she continued, plucking the cloth from his forehead.

Rumplestiltskin draped his hand over his eyes. “You aren’t terrible at it.”

“Really.” Belle swirled the cloth through the cool water. He’d never made a secret of what he thought about her cooking. Or her cleaning prowess, for that matter. What was she to do with this (albeit, small) admission to the contrary? She let the cloth sit in the bowl of water. “Do you want more tea?”

He shook his head.

A silence settled between them as he fidgeted in discomfort and she debated whether she should offer the cloth again. 

“Belle,” he murmured, finally. The way her name rolled off of his tongue made her a flutter rise in her chest, as did the glance he stole before turning into the couch’s high back. “Our deal was the best I’ve ever made.”

At sunup, Belle checked on the couch and found it empty. She also found the bowl in the kitchens, empty of water, and the cloth dry and folded neatly next to it.

Things were back to normal, it seemed.

Right down to—

“Porridge, again? You can’t be serious.”

“It’s my specialty.” Belle shrugged, biting back a grin. “Which is exactly what you want, isn’t it?”

Rumplestiltskin wrinkled his nose, but he still picked up his spoon. “I’d peg your specialty to dusting, if anything.” He was sniffling, voice definitely still a bit nasal, but at least he was no longer wearing a blanket as a cape. “Speaking of which.”

Belle stared down at the feather duster, freshly materialized into her hand. Someone was certainly feeling better. She cocked her head, fixing him with a look. He stared back, unflinching, a smile playing at the corner of his lips as brought his spoon up to them.

“Belle,” he said, just as she turned to go. She glanced back. He said nothing for several beats, and, unbidden, her heart took on a chaotic flutter. “Thank you,” he said, finally.

Belle hid a smile of her own behind the duster.

“The tea’s coming right up.”

[omegafett99]

@summer-of-bad-batch Week 1 | Prompt: "Late Night Beach Walks"you're here, you're safe"

Read here on Ao3!

Omega ran through the halls of mount tantiss, breathing heavily as she turned the corner, and screamed at what she saw.

She watched Hunter collapsing to the ground, a blaster hole in his chest. She fell to her knees beside him, shaking as her mouth fell slightly open.

“H-Hun-” She covered her mouth, swallowing back bile as she squeezed her eyes shut, falling forward and wrapping her arms around him, crying into his chest.

“Hunter- Hunter please-” She sobbed, shaking him back and forth.

“HUNTER!”

Omega sat up with a gasp, looking around her room, breathing heavily as she kicked off her blankets with a grunt, swinging her legs over the side and jumping to her feet.

She stumbled towards her door, grabbing the flashlight on her desk as she peeked out her doorway, holding it down towards the floor as she tiptoed to her brothers room.

Peeking through a crack of the door of Hunter’s room, she swallowed, whispering “Hunter..?”

Omega heard a quiet shuffling and a grunt, and Hunter appeared by the door a second later, opening it wider and running a hand through his hair.

“Omega? What happened?” he mumbled, tilting his head

Her eyes widened and she flew into his arms, pressing her face into his shirt as her shoulders shook, whispering frantically “I- You- a-and Then-”

He shushed her, rubbing her back as he knelt down to her level, resting a hand on her shoulder “Kid, take a breath, slow down.”

Omega sucked in a breath, sniffing as she rubbed her eye “W-We were on Mount Tantiss, a-and you- you-” She burst into tears, hiding her face in her hands.

Hunter’s eyes softened, and he enveloped her in a hug, picking her up and walking back to her room, rubbing her back gently.

He sat down next to her on her bed, rubbing her back as he tossed the flashlight onto a chair.

“It’s okay, ‘Mega. You’re here. You’re safe now” He whispered, wiping a tear from her face.

“B-But- But you-” She stammered, looking up at him

“We’re safe now, Omega. Safe. It was just a dream.” he whispered, gently laying her down and tucking the covers around her. As he was about to pull away, she grabbed his hand tightly, looking up at him.

“Stay. Please?” She whispered, audible to only his enhanced ears.

He smiled softly, shifting around and resting his back on the headboard “of course, kid. I’ll stay.”

Taglist: @dreamsight73 @kybercrystals94 @heidnspeak

[softnwonderful2]

SFW Alphabet: Echo - The Bad Batch

Pairing: Echo x Gn!Reader Word Count: 3.2k Rating: General Audience Warning: mention of break up, kissing and cuddling, insecurities and negative thoughts, bad eating habits and sleep disorders. (let me know if I should add something)

Author's Note: Not really sure everything is on character but, oh well, that's what fiction is for.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) 

Oh, he’s the sweetest in the most subtle ways possible, even if his ways of showing love are more emotional than physical. Quality time is very important for him, so you two always plan things to do together in between missions. They don’t even need to be big and elaborate activities, sometimes having a nice dinner and then going for a walk under the night sky is more than enough. He will also listen to you talk about anything for hours, and he won’t just sit there and blackly stare at you, he’ll ask questions, give you his advice and engage in conversation in a way that shows you he cares; his goal is to make you feel heard and understood by acknowledging your aspirations, likes and opinions the way you do with him. There’s nothing more important to him than getting to know you over and over again.  

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?) 

He’s rather an introvert person, so if you’re planning on being friends with him, you’re going to have to approach him first. The only other alternative would be that the rest of the Batch somehow realizes he’s interested in you and they decide to do the talking for him to help him out with introductions. In any case, it’ll take a while for him to open up and become comfortable with the relationship. Now, once he decides that you are trustworthy and begins to unfold, you better take really good care of that trust.  

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?) 

He’s pretty hesitant about it. He doesn’t dislike the idea, it’s somewhat the opposite of that; he sees it as such an intimate thing to do with someone, that he shies away from the vulnerability that goes with it. It makes him feel exposed in a way that scares him, because letting your guard down comes with the risk of getting hurt, and he’s been through a lot already and suffered more than enough. However, if you are patient with him (trust me it’ll take a while) and respect his boundaries, the comfort of feeling loved will win over the fear of getting hurt and he’ll give in to your touch.  

Eventually you’ll find out that he absolutely adores being the little spoon.  

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) 

He honestly never even considered settling down as an option, until he met you, that is. With such a dangerous lifestyle as a trooper first and a rebel second, the probabilities of falling in love with someone willing to risk it all to live by his side seemed super low. But the moment you two got together he realized that maybe settling down didn’t look the same for everyone. He learned to appreciate the domesticity in the little things: The smell of the cheap coffee you had for breakfast every morning, your clothes scattered all over the room you both shared, the warmth you left on your side of the bed when you woke up earlier than him.  

When it comes to the house chores, he’s always willing to help in anything he can, but of course some things are more difficult for him; his scomp link is not necessarily practical for doing stuff like dishes or folding laundry. However, he does enjoy cooking and doing general cleaning a fair amount, so he usually takes care of that.  

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) 

He wouldn’t, at least not right away. Whatever the situation was that led to him even considering the idea of a break up, he would let it linger, desperately hoping it would work itself out over time and eventually things would go back to normal. But of course it didn’t, because that’s just not how relationships work. You might have tried talking it out over and over again without really finding a long-term solution to the problem, and now you both find yourself ignoring the elephant in the room, delaying an inevitable end.  

He’s pretty bad at good byes, but he’s also the most mature of the Batch, so once you split it’ll be in really good terms with just the right amount of talking to clear things out. But you will be left with an extremely bitter sweet feeling inside and you should know you won’t be seeing each other in a pretty long time, that’s the one thing he asked from you; having you around would hurt too much and he needs time to heal.  

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) 

In case you haven’t noticed yet: he’s BIG on commitment. He’s never been in a relationship before meeting you, and that’s mainly because he “dates to marry”, except he doesn’t really care much for marriage as a concept, so it’s more like a “dates to live happily ever after without necessarily being legally bonded to each other because that would be counterproductive with them being deserters wanted by the empire and all that” kind of situation.  

The point is that, if he chose you as a partner is because he’s serious about it. So serious that he had to stop himself from proposing to you withing the first few weeks of being together, he was about to do it, but after a brief talk with his brothers they convinced him to at least wait a few months (to be fair he was in love with you way before asking you out, so it was not necessarily an impulsive decision).  

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) 

Super. He’s gentle and deliberate with both he’s actions and words, he might be a little bitchy towards some of his brothers sometimes, but never to you. He’s a very introspective person, so he’s used to thinking before speaking and choosing his words carefully.  

After Skako Minor it took him a while to get used to his prosthesis and was pretty reluctant to let other in his personal space; he was scared to somehow lose control of his new limbs and accidentally hurt them. And even has he got more use to them and gained confidence, he remained determined to be extra careful with them. 

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) 

I think we’ve already established how he feels about physical touch: it’s not a matter of like but rather a matter of trust. So even though he pretty much never hugs anyone, with you and his brother he makes some exceptions. When it comes to the rest of the Batch, he’s not affectionate but will tolerate a hug if they initiate it (Wrecker, we are talking almost exclusively about Wrecker). But when it comes to you, he’ll go as far as to stand very close to your body and wait for you to get the hint. Once you do and wrap your arms around him, he will reciprocate (big step).  

He does have a tendency to be a lot more loving in the morning; when he hasn’t fully woken up yet, still wearing any loose clothes he slept with and the warmth of the bed stays lingering on his body. He likes to drag his feet around the Marauder with drooping eyelids until he finds you in the kitchen, so he can hug you from behind until you finish making breakfast.  

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?) 

We already talked about how, when it comes to relationships, he goes all in. But in this case is a little different for two reasons: first he's more of an "actions are louder than words" type of person, so he'll prove you that he loves you before he ever put’s it into words. And second, even if he is dying to tell you how much he loves you (I mean, the man would’ve proposed to you in a matter of weeks if it weren’t for his brothers) he’d probably chose to put it in different words. Saying things like “I’m crazy about you” or “I can’t get enough of you” seam more devoted and genuine to him than just repeating the same three words over and over again.  

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) 

Ok so, Jealousy is a complex emotion that comes from insecurities: you see something that makes you self-conscious, you feel sad or even scared, that turns into anger and you project that anger onto yourself, your partner or a third person involved. Echo gets stuck in the “sad” stage.  

It doesn’t happen that often, but when it does, he internalizes it. All the negative voices in his head try to convince him that he's not good enough for you; that you’d be better off with anybody else. He tends to go very quiet when those feelings cloud his thoughts, but you’ve learned not to force him out of that headspace and give him time, you know he’ll reach out when he’s ready to talk. Of course, when that eventually happens, you’ll make sure to shower him in as many praises as you can come up with to wash away every single insecurity that lingers in his mind.  

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) 

Such a tender kisser, he likes to take his time. He rarely goes for rough or hungry kisses, but he does love intense long make out sessions along with some cuddling. He also tends to leave soft pecks all over your face: your forehead, temples and cheekbones are his favorites.  

You’ve recently noticed that, even though he’s very responsive to kisses all along his body, there’s a spot that’s especially sensitive: his collarbones. Every single time your lips start descending down his neck, his breath gets caught in a whine the moment they caress that particular place. 

L = Little ones (How are they around children?) 

He usually loves them... from afar. Nothing personal, he’s actually surprisingly good at taking care of them if he has to, it’s just that they don’t tend to be really good at respecting personal space or general boundaries, and it takes energy away from him to put up with that; he still things they’re adorable though.  

He also never really considered starting a family himself, but if he gave him some thought it probably wouldn’t seem like the best idea, at least not until war is over and he’d successfully settled down in a safe place to raise your kids. And even so, he’s already been a parental figure for Omega and the entirety of the Batch for a long time, so he might have had enough of it by now.  

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) 

Ok this is getting long so let's make the answers shorter 

When you’re not in a rush because of some mission, he likes to take his time and let his body wake up on its own. Still, he doesn’t tend to sleep till late. Even before he opens his eyes, he reaches out looking for your presence by his side, if you didn’t wake up spooning already. He likes to cuddle for a few minutes, snuggle until his body stops feeling so heavy, to then let you go so one of you can get up and prepare breakfast.  

N = Night (How are nights spent with them) 

Getting ready for bed, off course. Usually, you get enough action during the day with some new job or helping around the island, so the moment the sun begins to hide, the weight of the working day sets on his shoulders. All he can think about as soon as he takes a step on the ship, is to take of his armor so you can help him clean and oil up his joints before getting to bed.  

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) 

At first, he won't share anything about himself, just the bare minimum. But as you gain his trust, he'll begin to reveal more. As soon as he begins to tell some anecdote about his past it feels like when a butterfly lands on you; you hold your breath, too worried to scare it away and ruin an unusual moment. And whatever que tells you, you’ll cherish that memory for the rest of your life.  

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) 

He’s the second most patient of the Batch, after Hunter. He might have specific people he’s less tolerant towards, but generally speaking not many things get to his nerves enough to get an aggressive reaction out of him. The one thing that never fail to rile him up is injustice or anything related to it (and someone hurting his loved ones).  

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) 

Oh, he’ll remember; he’ll remember stuff even you forgot about yourself. He's pretty observant in general, so he even recalls details that you didn’t explicitly tell him, like your usual order when you eat out or your preference in books (he tends to use this knowledge to surprise you with small presents or a ready meal after a long day even if it not a special date or anything).  

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?) 

Inspired by @leenathegreengirl’s art

It happened during your first month on Pabu, and the town was organizing an annual festivity. It included typical dishes, decoration and dances of the island. All of you had to dress accordingly as a sign of respect to their culture and so you had to asked for borrowed clothes. You weren’t together yet and Echo thought that night was perfect to finally ask you if he could be your boyfriend. Neither of you had seen each other wearing anything that wasn’t your usual armor before, so when his eyes landed on your body looking so elegant and graceful, he got so shy he almost backed down from the proposal. 

He ultimately did it. First, he asked you for a dance, and when the music slowed down, he leaned your bodies together to whisper the question into your ear. 

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)  

He knows you well enough to be aware of your loyalty and abilities, so honestly, he doesn’t feel the need to protect you much. Of course, he gets anxious when you get yourself into a particularly dangerous situation, but he’ll never get in the way unless you ask for help or are in obvious distress.  

As for him, he expects the same treatment in return, though he wouldn’t mind you being a little protective.  

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) 

As much as he can in each context. If he has time and resources to plan a nice date, he’ll take care of every detail, make sure dinner is ready and get you a little present to go with it. But even in situations where you cannot give yourself such pleasures, he’ll try his best to make you feel as loved as possible.  

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) 

He neglects his diet a lot. It’s not like he does it on purpose or anything, he just forgets to eat sometimes. He may not even realize how long it’s been since his last meal until his hunger turns almost debilitating. It hasn’t reached the point of having big consequences on his health, but you still worry about him; so you’re determined to share as many meals as possible to hopefully check up on him. He seems to be doing a lot better.  

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) 

Tries his best not to think about it too much, but it's not that simple. He became quite insecure about his appearance after Skako Minor, adapting to a body that didn’t feel like it belonged to him was not easy, and it was hard for him to recognize his own reflection sometimes. With time he got used to it and his perception of himself improved, regaining some confidence and not thinking so much about his looks.  

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?) 

Absolutely. If he were to lose you, he’d probably fall in a depressive pit for a while, those that leave you feeling empty even after you got out of it. It would take a long time, and support from his brothers, for him to be fully functional again.  

(i don’t feel like getting much into it tbh)  

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) 

He watches holonet soap operas for the drama only, picked up gardening during their time on Pabu and his spirit animal is a raven.  

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) 

Some general thing he doesn’t like are: medical equipment, sand (it gets in his joints), cold weather, snakes or any other reptiles, spicy food, also not the best fan of darkness.  

He cannot stand superficial people or those without a sense of justice. 

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?) 

(i now realize i might have misunderstood the prompt?) 

His sleeping habits are messy to say the least. Insomnia, sleep paralysis, night terrors, you name it. Poor Echo has suffered from sleep disorders pretty much since war started, and they only got worst since Skako Minor happened. They come and go with time, but they never fully disappear, he might have a few days or up to a week with not many interruptions but they eventually come back. Luckly you two discovered that sharing a bed helps a lot, your warmth and presence by his side serves as an anchor that allow him to let his guard down a little. But even if that doesn’t do it, he knows you’ll be there to hug him through the early morning hours when he can’t sleep a wink or to comfort him when he wakes up in the middle of the night after a bad dream.  

That's it for now, let me know if you'd like me to write any other character. Likes and comments are always appreciated!

[dangraccoon]

Rewiring

Echo & The Bad Batch

|| Hurt/Comfort || Whumpish ||

Word count:

Content: I beat up my darling Echo :( , building collapse, loss of artificial limbs, broken bones, broken prosthetics

Mando'a Guide haar'chak - damn it ori’osik’la yust bah ramaanar ibic ca’nara - shittier way to die this time

Inspired by @misstoodles-doodles excellent art (link)! Specifically, the one where Wrecker is carrying a very injured Echo.

Several things hadn’t gone according to plan, but when did they ever?

The Separatists' divide-and-conquer strategy worked perfectly this time. Well-placed detonators and collapsing sections of the compound further separated the already split squad. 

A laser barrier appeared between Tech and Echo, and another behind Echo, stopping him in his tracks as he followed. 

“Haar’chak,” he swore, scanning his surroundings for a scomp port. 

The building rumbled, dust and debris falling above them, clunking against his helmet. 

“There’s a port on this side,” Tech called. 

“Not on this one,” Echo grumbled. 

“I will try to find a console to slice into,” Tech said, already pulling his datapad from his belt, adding “stay there,” before running off.

Echo sighed, looking around the cell that had formed around him. “Yeah, I think I will.”

“You there!” a vocoded voice shouted behind him mere milliseconds before the laser wall behind him lifted and blaster shots began to fire. He turned to face the aggressor, his blaster already raised and returning fire. 

He cursed as he moved, beyond irritated at the lack of cover in his makeshift prison. He barely dodged the soldier’s shots. If he wasn’t under his fire, Echo might’ve been somewhat impressed; he wasn’t half bad for a natborn Seppie.

The compound shook again–probably Wrecker’s doing–and something set off the alarms in the back of Echo’s mind. Something wasn’t right. He clicked his tongue twice, turning on the open line to the rest of the squad. 

“Tech, where are you? Something doesn’t feel–”

Before he could finish his sentence, the other squad members were shouting over him and each other. Then, everything happened all at the same time, fast, but somehow still in slow motion. 

The building shook again, the floor cracking beneath his feet, metal groaning. Chunks of the ceiling rained down over him. Everything was so loud, too loud, and was he falling? And then a sharp pain up his back, and then everything stopped, and the world went dark. 

-

When Echo opened his eyes, he had to blink away some dust or something. Wait, that wasn’t right–his helmet…?

His right arm raised, the scomp clinking against his implant, then poking his jaw. He tried to run his hand down his face, but couldn’t move his left arm.

A twinge of fear ran through his body; if he’d lost his single remaining human limb, he’d probably also lose what remained of his sanity. 

Stop it, he scolded himself. He needed to stay calm. If his arm had been severed from his body, he’d be losing a lot of blood. He needed to look. He needed to see why he couldn’t move.

He shifted his head, pain surging through his body, emanating from his upper back. That’s not comforting, he thought grimly. From his altered perspective, he could see the problem.

His left arm and, once he painfully lifted his head, both legs were covered with large sections of debris. 

“Shab,” he groaned. His main comm was part of his helmet’s HUD, but his secondary was attached to his scomp.

He brought the limb up, ready to activate it with his damn face if he needed to and–

A stream of huffed curses dripped from his mouth. The comm was crushed, and part of it was hanging by a wire.

He sighed, letting his head rest back against the broken duracrete pieces behind it, pointedly ignoring the awkward angle it set his neck at and the pain accompanying it.

He hadn’t realized he’d been dozing off until something pulled his consciousness back. A noise nearby had alerted him. Part of the squad, maybe.

He opened his mouth to call out to them, but instinct took over. Could be an enemy, his mind hissed. He shut his mouth.

It seemed to him that this was the luckiest day of his life. Not only had every one of their plans failed, not only had he been separated from the rest of his squad, not only did the building collapse around him, not only was most of his body pinned beneath debris, but the separatist soldier from before the collapse was staring at him. 

He almost felt bad for the man; he looked confused and somewhat dazed. He’d likely been injured in the fall as well.

The soldier raised a shaky arm, his blaster aimed directly at Echo.

Ori’osik’la yust bah ramaanar ibic ca’nara, he thought bitterly, but closed his eyes in begrudged acceptance anyway.

Echo assumed the shot ringing out would be the last thing he ever heard, but as he lay there, his shoulder burning, but somehow alive, he could have sworn he heard two shots.

He opened his eyes again just in time to see Wrecker looming over him. Concern swam into his mind at seeing his brother’s helmetless head.

“Hold tight, buddy,” he said, worry etched into his face. “I’ll getcha outta there.”

Wrecker freed Echo’s arm from the wreckage first, which Echo pulled against his body, grimacing as blood flowed more freely into it. Something in the back of his mind–the interface, he reasoned–told him it was likely broken. Then the bigger man lifted the large chunk trapping his legs, shoving it off of him.

“Ah kriff,” Wrecker swore, his brow knitting together in a tight scowl. 

Echo lifted his head, letting a slow sigh out as he stared at the image before him. The rubble was gone, but so were his legs from the knee down. A feeling of sickening familiarity rushed over him as he watched the shorn wires sparking as his neural interface worked in vain to get the mechanical limbs back online. The feeling was gone almost as soon as it came. 

He was injured, yes, but at least most of the pain was coming from his back and the shot to his shoulder. The crushed and broken metal at the end of his amputated legs caused him far less pain than it would have had it been any of the others in his place.

That wasn’t to say, however, that the second loss of his legs didn’t hurt. It sucked mentally, but there was a kind of eerie, uncanny quiet in the interface. Each part of his refurbished body connected to his 

“Gonna be alright,” Wrecker assured him, though he didn’t look as though he believed it himself.

He looped his arms beneath Echo’s back and thighs, pulling him up and against his chest easily.

Echo could see the man eyeing the still-smoking hole in the top right of his chestplate nervously.

He chuckled, the sound odd in his ears. “You should see the other guy,” he rasped.

Wrecker barely contained a snort, but his concern won out. “Guys!” he shouted down the ruins of the hallway. “I found ‘im!”

As Wrecker carried him through the destroyed facility, Echo could feel his grasp on his consciousness loosening.

He could just hear the others’ rapid chattering while they fled back to the ship as he slipped into the inky water of sleep, knowing that he was in safe hands.

Thanks for reading! - River

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[clonetrooperjournals]

Hello, I saw your “Cry baby” fic and absolutely fell in love with your page lol, I was wondering if you could do a Bad Batch x Reader where’s she shy and they’re like “wow she wouldn’t hurt a fly how will she fit in with us?” But then one of them gets hurt in the field and they see her b!tch slapping droids out of the way and sucker punching anyone in her way so she can get to the injured clone. Hope you’re doing well! -🤍

Summary : You are a civilian medic who asks to be assigned to Clone force 99. The boys wonder why someone actually wants to work with them but turns out your a little weird too... Pairings : Pre-order 66 Crosshair x Fem!reader Warnings : mentions of injury, slight angst, self doubt talk, fluff, cute, happy ending, crosshair being a softie Words : 2.2k A/N : So sorry this request took so long! I hope you enjoy it! I went a slight different route but I do like how it turned out! Crosshair is the secret softie we all love and that made him the star of this fic masterlist here

When the bad batch first got assigned a field medic, they thought it was a joke.  

“H-Hello boys...” you say with bright red cheeks and your fists curled into your jacket.  

The four clones look over you like skeptically, Crosshair is of course the first to speak up, “what is this? She's the same size as the gonk droid!”  

Standing in front of them was this small 5ft woman in a medic's uniform that you hand stitched full of flowers and had ribbons tied in your boots. Your hair was pulled into a high ponytail and your eyes sparkled in the sunlight, you were the most innocent and beautiful person they’ve ever seen. What the hell were you doing working for them? 

Hunter walks over to you with a curious look, “I’m Seargeant Hunter. You’re the medic?” 

“Y-Yes that’s me...” you say with a shy smile, “I put in a request to work... with your squad.” 

Tech walks over then, circling around you analyzing, “You... want to work with us?”  

“Yes! I don’t really fit in and I-I thought...” you stutter nervously kicking your boot back and forth, “I just wanted... to work with people who were different too...”  

They all look at you stunned, and Hunter grins, “Well let’s see if you can keep up.” 

You trail your gaze over the four clones with a bright smile, “That won’t be a problem!” 

... 

It indeed was not a problem, and a year later it still shocks them every time. That first mission you went on with the bad batch was a rough one and as they geared up, they kept glancing over at their little medic with worry but, you just hummed quietly to yourself as you braided your hair and strapped two blasters to your sides like it was just another day.  

When the Marauder landed on the planet all hell broke loose, and droids were coming from every side. Somewhere in the chaos Tech commed you that he broke his leg and needed you to come and set it mid battle. You were up on the ridge with Crosshair, and you looked over the field searching for Tech. You found him lying behind a pile of scrap and then turned toward Crosshair, “Cover me.”  

Crosshair watched your entire demeanor shift from the cute shy woman with ribbons on her boots to a confident young woman. You hopped over the ridge drawing both blasters and running full speed to Tech. Crosshair cleared your path as you ran and all the boys watched as you blasted your way through battle droids, even picking up a dismembered droid arm and using it as a weapon. After what seemed like only a few seconds you slid in front of Tech kicking down a battle droid on your way and blasting its head right before it could shoot you and Tech.  

Tech looked at you wide eyed and curious, “Fascinating...” 

“Let’s get that leg set.” You grinned pulling out your med bag. After that day they never questioned you on your skills. 

... 

Currently you and the batch were getting ready to be deployed to Felucia and you were excited to travel to the jungle planet. There were so many amazing plants and flowers that were native there and you wanted to collect samples for your flower wall you had curated on the ship, the thought alone made you smile with joy.  

As you sat in your bunk packing your first aid kit, humming a tune to yourself you didn’t notice Crosshair watching you from his bunk, “You seem... Offley happy to be back out in the field.” 

“Maybe a little... There are these specific flowers that grow on Felucia and they are this beautiful shade of blue that glows in the moonlight! Oh, I want one so bad...” you sigh to yourself. 

Crosshair just rolls his eyes, trying not to smile at you, “You’re starting to sound like Tech.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You say sticking your tongue out at him with blushing cheeks, making him crack a rare smile.  

Your relationship with the batch over the past year has been so wholesome, you really feel like these clones are your family. It’s the little things, like listening to Tech as he spews facts about random things or helping Hunter with the paperwork to send in or fake arm wrestling with Wrecker when he’s bored. They became your boys, and you became their girl, but what you want more than anything is for Crosshair to look at you like a woman. 

The crush didn’t start right away, you thought that he genuinely didn’t like you at first, but his brothers assured you that that’s just how he is and slowly, you started to figure out what made Crosshair tick. You could tell when he was angry or when he was trying to tough it out and hide his feelings, slowly you began to see him in a whole new light. Then your heart started to flutter when he would talk to you, you would blush when he would make small comments about your appearance, and you looked forward to his playful banter and rare smiles. You were smitten, but you weren’t going to act on your feelings because he doesn’t see you as anything other than a young naive woman with flowers in her hair.  

You hop up out of your bunk just as the marauder breaks atmosphere on Felucia. Tech drops the ship on an outer ridge hiding in the foliage of the jungle forest. Crosshair watches as you bounce on the balls of your feet, your braids swinging in that adorable little way that they do. You've slowly wormed your way past his defenses and into his heart, though he’ll never say it out loud. You are an impressive woman so full of love and hope and sparkle, usually those things make him want to bury himself alive but as you seem to be the walking embodiment, he’s come to fall for its charms.  

“Tech and Wrecker, you lead the front, Crosshair you and the doc take the western ridge, and Doc... Do not engage unless I or Crosshair give the okay. There is a lot going on here and we don’t want you to get hurt.”  

You nod slinging your kit over your shoulder, “Got it Sarge.” 

You all leave the ship and head out into the jungle, your eyes go wide as you turn to Crosshair with a big smile, “Wow! Are you seeing this Cross? It’s amazing!” 

“Sure doc.” He says while rolling his eyes.  

The two of you walk through the jungle up to the western ridge and Crosshair can’t help but chuckle at the way you whip your head back and forth with a smile at all the plants and flowers. You gently stroke you hand over a seemingly harmless flower and it twirls its petals making you smile brightly. Quietly he sets up his scope and waits for Hunter to give the signal while you continue to admire your surroundings.   

After a short while you feel the ground start to thump and you look at Crosshair to see if he felt it too. He nods at you and puts his finger to his lips for the two of you to be quiet, then the source of the thumping comes into view, and you freeze. The largest Rancor you’ve ever seen is walking towards you with two younglings and you turn to Crosshair panicked and whisper, “What are we gonna do?”  

The young rancor's turn their gaze directly toward the two of you and start to hit the ground excitedly making you jump. You look at Crosshair in a panic and he whispers in your ear, “Were gonna jump.”  

Before you can answer, Crosshair grabs your waist and the two of you go tumbling down the ridge hard and fast. You can hear the thumping footsteps of the rancor's on your tail as you skid to a stop, Crosshair still holding you tightly. The two of you jump up and take off in a run, ignoring the aching throughout your body, and you hear Hunter on the coms. 

What's going on? 

We've got an incoming! 

There’s no separatists from that location. 

Not separatists! 

By the time Hunter could ask what is going on he sees you and Crosshair sprinting across the field with a mama rancor and two babies hot on your tail. Wrecker turns around and laughs happily, “Oh yeah! Let's go!”  

Just as you are about to come up with the others you feel a hard swipe and you get thrown across the field. The mama and baby rancor's continue their charge towards the rest of the batch as you lie there stunned for a moment. You feel the large gash in your side pooling blood as you slowly sit up with a groan, and you reach into your med kit to give yourself a stim for the time being. Then you pull yourself up and run over to the others your blasters drawn. You can see Wrecker laughing as he takes on the mama rancor meanwhile Hunter, Crosshair and Tech are leading the babies away back into the jungle. Of course, it is then that a squad of battle droids pops out from the eastern ridge charging toward your location.  

You sigh and turn to Wrecker as you shoot the first droids, “We’ve got company!”  

... 

You all lean up against the ship battered but still holding on. Hunter has his arm in a sling and Wrecker is rubbing bacta gel on his knuckles from the fist fight he got into with the mama rancor. The mission was a success, eventually, you had to improvise and ended up using the mama rancor to your advantage redirecting her anger towards the battle droids which ended up working in your favor. You were covered in mud and aching, the gash on your side had started bleeding again but you had no energy to stand let alone deal with your injury. Crosshair walks over to you and notices the way you are grabbing your side, “You alright doc?” 

“Yeah. Yeah. I think I just need to lie down...��� you mumble as you start to fall forward woozily.  

Crosshair quickly grabs you before you hit the ground and calls for his brother, “Woah! Okay Tech!”  

You mumble something and Crosshair brings his ear close to you, his ears going red as he hears what you're saying in your haze, “Cross don’t let me go... stay with me please...” 

Your eyes roll back in your head, and your vision starts to fade to black, the last thing you can hear is the sound of Crosshair yelling for you to stay with him... 

... 

Slowly you open your eyes to the dull light of the marauder, and the cold of space. You trail your arm down to your side and feel the fresh tight bandages and as you turn your head to the side you jump in surprise making you wince, “Crosshair?”  

He sat on the floor across from your bunk, twirling his toothpick and watching you with a slight worry in his eyes, “Your awake.” 

“What happened?” you ask as you try to sit up but stop when you feel the ache in your side.  

He sighs, “the rancor hit you pretty good, you lost a lot of blood...” 

You look down at yourself and immediately start blushing hard as you realize that you’re in your bra, instantly you pull the blanket up yourself trying to hide the last shred of dignity you have in front of the sexy sniper but he gives you a mischievous smirk and he slides toward you, “We had to get rid of your shirt to properly apply the bandages. Don’t worry, I was gentle.” 

You throw the blanket over your head, your face burning, “kriffin hell...” 

“Don’t worry I’m a professional,” he chuckles as he pulls the blanket down to your nose, “you good?” 

You sit up slowly, keeping the blanket wrapped around you still blushing, “Yeah... I’m good. Thanks for staying with me.” 

He nods and throws you a shirt to which you slip on carefully while blushing like crazy. You see your med bag placed neatly at the end of your bunk with something on top that makes you freeze. “Is that...?” 

A large blue flower, the same one you were telling Cross about earlier that day laid on top of your bag. You looked over at him and he shrugged, his ears red as he avoided your gaze. You gently picked up the flower with the biggest smile on your face, “When did you... have time to grab this?” 

“I made it work. I remember you saying that you... wanted the flower so...” 

With a rush of emotion, you lean forward and kiss his cheek, “Thank you Crosshair!”  

You both freeze after realizing what you just did, your cheeks a flame the same as his. He looks up at you with a look you can’t place and grabs your chin. You can feel his breath on your lips as he spits his toothpick behind you and without warning he kisses you slowly and passionately. You drop the flower and grab his face kissing back hard, making him smile into the kiss.  

He pulls away with heavy lids, “If your gonna kiss me doc, do it properly.” 

“So, I can do it again?” you ask breathless.  

He just chuckles and nods kissing you again and again and again... 

dividers by @moosgraphics & @saradika-graphics

[ireadwithmyears]

You’ll learn to bounce back just like your trampoline

written for the summer of bad batch 2024 challenge, week two. @summer-of-bad-batch

word count:1.4 K

prompt: injured

A swimming lesson on Pabu goes wrong. Luckily, Omega has great brothers who are there for her when her attempt to do something beyond her skill level to look impressive backfires. (Title lyrics are from Robin by Taylor Swift)

Tags/warnings: descriptions of minor injuries/blood, minor descriptions of medical procedures/stitches, fluff, hurt/comfort.

also read on AO3

Omega, I need to see it, kid. Just let me have a look.”

Echo’s voice is kind and even, but still holds the signature arc trooper “that was an order” tone that he uses when he’s asking for something non-negotiable. It holds absolutely no room for argument, in spite of how much she wants to

Hunter, for his part, is holding her in his arms, feeling her sniffling and whimper against his chest, and wondering what the hell happened. 

It had been a simple, straightforward swimming lesson, beneath Pabu’s serene skies and warm sun as they swam in calm waters. Omega already knew how, but her technique and endurance could use work. On an island, surrounded by water and waves and the opportunity, she had excitedly jumped at the suggestion when Tech had proposed it, seeing it as an alternative to her normal educational study time. He could tell that being surrounded by nature and so many new things to explore was making her antsy and unable to focus on her normal tasks. So this had been his compromise.

A compromise that he was quickly coming to regret, as he joggs back towards the Marauder to retrieve their medkit. 

They had taught her how to properly jump, off the side of the dock, always under careful supervision for now so that one of them could check the alignment of her toes before she jumps, to ensure its success on the takeoff. 

He cannot begin to understand what, exactly, had possessed her to attempt jumping off the side of the dock backwards when everyone’s back was turned, nor does he pretend to. 

“Come on, ad’ika. Echo just wants to have a look, that’s all,” Wrecker encourages, gently coaxing her face upward by cupping her cheek in one of his large hands, being very careful to avoid her chin.

Her chin that is now split open by a large gash from when it had collided against the hard dock, the result of not pushing back far enough when she had taken the jump.

Wrecker cringes at the site, letting out a sympathetic hiss and ruffling her still wet hair.

Echo, for his part, winces but is otherwise unfazed, having seen much worse as he carefully inspects the damage. “It’s deep enough to need stitches,” he reports, gently tilting her head back.

Her eyes, that had up until this point been leaking with silent tears, quiet sobs occasionally escaping her lips, go wide, and she sharply turns to bury herself back against Hunter’s chest, seeming to shrink and attempt to hide against him.

“No,” her voice is high-pitched and frantic with fear. “No. Hunter, I’m sorry, please don’t be mad. I didn’t mean to, please I don’t, I don’t want stitches please.” 

Her cries are insistent and pleading, words escaping in a rush that he’s pretty sure he can only understand because of his enhanced senses, and his heart breaks for her, even as he shakes his head regretfully.

“Hey, no, hey, shh. I’m not mad, Omega. I promise, no one is mad at you. You just made a mistake, kiddo, that’s all, happens to all of us,” he soothes, words whispered softly against her forehead as he holds her to him, gently rocking her back and forth. “But, kid, there’s no avoiding stitches. It won’t be able to heal properly without them.”

“B but that still means needles,” she whimpers, and he’s not sure if she’s trembling so violently because the water has made her cold, or if she’s genuinely that scared. Regardless, before he has room to answer, Tech is there, unpacking supplies with a practiced, familiar ease of someone who’s done this many times before.

“Which is why I will ensure you are sufficiently numbed beforehand,” he interjects.

She doesn’t mean to flinch away from Tech, really, she doesn’t. She knows it’s Tech, it’s her brother, and he’s going to keep her safe and ensure that her injury is treated with the upmost of care.

But being raised as a Kaminoen science experiment, the familiar sound of the catch the medkit makes as it opens makes her entire body go rigid, stiffening within hunters arms as she hides her face against his shoulder, heedless of the blood. She must make some sort of noise, some pathetic whimper that she is beyond caring about, because Hunter, his hand gentle as it cups the back of her head and smoothes over her hair, speaks softly.

“Come on, ner cyar,” he coaxes, gently shushing her noise of protest as he moves to re-situate her in his lap, holding her with her back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapping around her securely. “Tech isn’t gonna let anything bad happen to you, sweet,” he promises, only feeling her settle when his lips press to the top of her head, leaving several soft kisses just to pull The ghost of a smile out of her.

“I d didn’t mean to,” she repeats, sniffling softly as she looks up at Tech, eyes watery.

“I would imagine not,” he says dryly, using a cotton pad to gently dab numbing gel over the long, jagged cut. “One would assume that you would not intentionally smash your chin off a hard wooden dock while attempting to jump off the side of it backwards,” he quips, and there’s an amusement in his voice that makes her giggle in spite of herself, his lips almost imperceptibly pulling into a smile when he hears it.

Her cheeks flush with embarrassment, and she averts her eyes.

“We all make mistakes and errors in judgment, Omega,” he says steadily, carefully beginning to clean the wound, removing small splints of wood and debris from the dock with a set of tweezers, observing her face for any signs of discomfort as he works.

“You don’t,” she points out, raising a sceptical eyebrow at him.

Tec Looks thoughtful as he responds, gently dabbing at the cut with a disinfectant. 

“Perhaps, the errors I make are not as frequent nor perceptible discrepancies now,” he allows. “But that does not mean that I am in fallible. I can assure you, I am not above making mistakes, despite my exceptional mind often times preventing me from making such errors,” he says with a smile. “And perhaps Wrecker can regale you with some of my most noteworthy risks that I thought had been calculated at the time, but in hindsight, were not as well thought out as I had initially intended.”

Wrecker, who is a naturally energetic and engaging storyteller, takes the hint, observing his brother reaching for the local anaesthetic. He leans forward with a mischievous gleam in his eye, gaining the child’s focus and holding it so well that she doesn’t even notice when Tech

Injects around the cut with the numbing agent. 

Tech issues a soft warning as he prepares to thread the needle through, asking her to tell him if she feels any discomfort Beyond slight pulling and pressure, so that he may administer more local anesthetic, if needed. She nods, eyes nervous and wary, but as promised, she has been sufficiently numbed. 

They get through the sutures easily this way, his brothers occasionally chiming in to add in details, or Tech, eyes never leaving the wound as he closes it intently, corrects something one of them had said that was, in his opinion, extremely over exaggerated, or factually just entirely wrong.

The brothers, all working together to describe their days as cadets, outlining their own mistakes they had made and stupid injuries they had gotten as a result, are so good at keeping her occupied, that at several points, Tech has to remind her to keep her chin still in spite of her urge to laugh or smile, patiently pulling the sutures through her skin.

When he’s finished, expertly tying a knot at the end of the row of sutures to hold them together, he gives her a smile. 

“Well done, Omega,” he says softly. “You did well.” 

She sniffs, giving him a small smile and a knot before pressing her head back against Hunter’s chest, looking up at him after a moment with pleading tooka eyes, still watery with the remnants of tears and even before she asks, he knows he won’t be able to say no to whatever she’s about to beg for.

“Did did I do well enough to deserve an ice cone as a treat?” She asks, voice small and hopeful.

“Yes,” Tech is the one to respond, voice matter-of-fact but pleased smile on his face. “I believe that an ice cone would be an acceptable reward.” 

Hunter lets out an exaggerated grown, pretends to roll his eyes and smack a hand against his forehead in defeat, then picks her up into his arms, holding her close. 

“If it’s ice cones you want,” he grumbles playfully, gently bouncing her just to hear her laugh and smile. “Then ice cones you shall have.”

[melymigo]

Star Wars: Hyperspace Stories #10 will feature The Bad Batch in the Variant Cover B* written by Michael Moreci, pencils by Ricardo Faccini, color by Nicola Righi and letters by Comic Craft. Cover B by Cary Nord. Available on November 1st 2023. Published by Dark Horse Comics.

UPDATE! A synopsis of the comic has dropped!

"Trapped behind enemy lines! Surrounded on all sides by deadly battle droids! All in day's work of the Bad Batch! While investigating reports of strange modified battle droids, the squad find themselves at the mercy of a sinister separatist scientist, who plans on using the team as part of his twisted experiments. Caught in a lethal game of cat and mouse, this mission may prove too dangerous even for the Bad Batch!"

[vekreng]

Hunter - SFW Alphabet

prompt: sfw alphabet featuring the reader dating Hunter from The Bad Batch :] list by @.the-coldest-goodbye here! pairing: Hunter x Reader Words: 2k requested: no

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Hugs and kisses. It sounds simple but then, he can be a simple man. He especially loves to hold you from behind and press his face to your head, or brush his lips down your shoulder.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Oh, he’s a parent friend, all the way. He’s got the most common sense between you two and may stare at you frustratedly if you ask for his advice and then immediately go and ignore it. He doesn’t like seeing you put yourself in danger for him, but naturally that rule doesn’t apply to himself when it comes to you. You’d become friends after being paired up on several missions together; it’s hard for him to let others come close after years of bullying, but for you, he’s willing to risk it.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Cuddling is his favorite activity by far. Being pressed against you lets him drown out the noise of his nightmares and ground himself in the present. With you, he’s loved, he’s safe, he’s cared for. It’s a feeling he’ll always cherish and be grateful for when you two get a chance to cuddle.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

At first he doesn’t; he’s a soldier, through and through. The destruction of the Republic forces him to confront his new reality however, and through the months, he grows weary and longs for a life of his own without the threat of further pain and misery. Pabu showed him what life could be, and he hasn’t stopped thinking about it since. He’s fine enough at cleaning and absolutely terrible at cooking, but he’s willing to put in the effort for you.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He’d take them to a secluded spot away from prying eyes and be gentle but honest. No matter the reason for the breakup, he would always hold a soft spot in his heart for the time you spent together. Things may get awkward on missions, but he’d do his best to be impartial in his decisions.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

At first he’s scared; every day he chances death, why would anyone want to tie themselves to that? It isn’t until you remind him that tomorrow is promised to none that he changes his mind on the matter. He’ll even get Tech or Echo to help him figure out your ring size so he can start shopping around shortly after your conversation.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Very, in both ways. Omega dulled his harsh edges and helped him learn how to be more emotionally intelligent and available, traits he quickly comes to realize are valuable in a life partner. 

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Any physical contact is a win in his book. He’s constantly pulling you into his side with an arm around your lower back, or resting with it across your shoulders, or putting his chin on your head. Hunter tries his hardest to memorize all the little moments where you instigated a hug. His hugs are tight and unyielding, but not in an overbearing way. You feel perfectly protected from anything and everything when he holds you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Not until after a mission where you almost died. You ran upstairs in pursuit of a target, only to get shot in your armor and knocked down by a couple of assailants hiding in the room. The target got away, but not before setting the building on fire with you trapped inside. Hunter was able to get you out, but only just barely in time, and you had to spend weeks recovering at a Republic base from the physical and mental trauma. That experience made something finally click in his head, and those three words were the first thing you heard when you woke up.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He doesn’t really get jealous easily; he feels very secure in your guys’ relationship. He’ll absolutely be overbearingly protective at times, especially in unfamiliar cities or bars, but he trusts you to be faithful just as he will.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His lips are always a little rough and chapped, no matter how many times you slip lip balm into his pockets or put it on your own mouth in hopes of transferring the product. There are small grooves and indents from the countless times an explosion has sent him skidding across the ground, and eventually you’ve memorized the placement and details of each one. He loves kissing your eyes, the space between your brows, your nose, the corner of your mouth. And god, he loves when you kiss the edge of his jaw, the buried mark of his inhibitor chip, the pulsepoint of his neck, his chest.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

We’ve all seen The Bad Batch. He loves children, and it grows each day he has Omega. Though between you and him, if you’re happy with a few extra underfoot, he is more than willing to oblige. He’s happy living without though, if that isn’t in your cards for whatever reason.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Lazy when he doesn’t have work. He takes his time watching you wake up, sometimes opting for a peck or a tickle if you’re taking too long for him. He’ll make you some coffee and the two of you can sit and read together in bed.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He’s usually pretty exhausted by the time night rolls around, but he always gets a second wind when he sees you. He loves being able to steal quiet moments away with you, and he’s not terribly picky about how you two spend them, though he certainly has a few ideas on what could be done.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

You take a shot for him in the heat of battle. That was the moment that he could recognize being the reason behind his guarded nature dropping around you, the moment you showed him with action rather than words that you were serious about seeing him as an equal and being there to cover his back. You two have shared many hushed conversations late at night in a cockpit while traveling through hyperspace.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Depends. With you? Very rarely. He trusts you wholly, but that doesn’t mean he won’t get upset if you do something stupid and put yourself at risk. When it comes to others outside of his squad? Pretty quickly. He doesn’t have a lot of tolerance for “regs” beyond the ones he’s worked with such as Rex and Cody, and that distaste usually extends out to other species who come off as hostile or abrasive from the start.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Hunter knows that every battle, every trip, may very well be his last, so he works hard to commit every part of you to memory. Your smile, the way you smell, how your eyes light up at seeing your favorite meal after waking up. He’s a bit obsessed with it actually, to the point where he panics if he realizes he forgot some small detail. He’s started writing them down now to prevent it from happening again.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Your first kiss. Cheesy, sure, but everything about the moment felt so right in a way that nothing else before ever had. His sharpened senses were focused solely on you, to the point where he didn’t hear the whooping of Wrecker in the background or the begrudging exchange of credits between Crosshair and Echo. For that moment, nothing in the world existed except the two of you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Does it even need to be asked? He watches over you like a hawk. Sometimes you have to fight to get out from under him when he rolls on top of you in his sleep. You’re well trained for sure, but somehow that just isn’t enough for him. He trusts you to cover him and be a strong partner in all walks of life, though, so at least you have that going for you. He knows that you’ll keep watch when he needs to focus on something and can hold your own when he’s down.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Nothing much at first, maybe a small gift that can fit in your palm or an extra kiss for a special date on the calendar. It isn’t until Suu and Cut politely inform him that this won’t be enough for long that he realizes he should do more, and that he actually wants to do more. Hunter spirals rapidly down the affection-showing-hole, ensuring that each gift and date is better than the last.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He can dog on during missions and get tunnel-visioned on his objective despite his body burning to rest and recover. He practically has to be wrestled down each time, and now the whole squad keeps a closer eye on him after that one time where he tried to run with a broken kneecap. His stubbornness triumphs the overwhelming pain each time.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not terribly. He is quite fond of his hair though, which he will never admit to anyone but you has been styled after a character in an action movie he saw once. The bald spot where his inhibitor chip was removed was extremely embarrassing for him, opting to keep the bandana on at all times when anyone was around. It took a lot of convincing and waiting for some hair to grow back for him to be comfortable letting you see him like that.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

One hundred percent. He’s hollowed out without you, an aching void yearning for your touch and warmth. If he could, he’d stay in bed all day mourning your loss.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He has a very serious and strict hair care routine that he does his best to stick to even when out in the wilderness. How else do you think his hair stays so shiny and strong?

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Someone who doesn’t see the value in teammates and believes themself to be a “lone wolf” of sorts. Everyone on his squad has skills spanning multiple subjects, yes, but they also have something they specialize in. No one person can do it all alone, and someone so cocky as to claim that they’re the one who can isn’t very appealing to him.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He complains about how dry his mouth can be in the mornings and how Wrecker’s snoring occasionally wakes him up. You don’t have the heart to tell him that he’s hearing his own snoring and should probably invest in a CPAP machine or something similar.