#also this would put her nearest to Crosshair and I like that

[eriexplosion]

Credit to @heyclickadee for bringing up the idea that the show could end with retaking the family picture, but this is the first time I've looked at it closely since then and like, I'm beginning to think that's very likely. I mean, look at the composition, they could have had Tech standing they had plenty of room. So why is he kneeling down in front? Not even in the middle but off to the side?

To create a void to the left. To leave a missing space in the picture, a spot that BEGS to be filled by including Omega. With him alive and all of them reunited, Omega in that spot, they'll finally be COMPLETE.

[letsquestjess]

So I heard you were doing fic requests (I stumbled on a post lol)

I'm not a big x Reader fan (sry 😭) but is it okay if I just request the bad batch relaxing on a forest planet in a cozy cabin? I just think that huddling up next to a fireplace, hot soup and hot cocoa would be the ultimate way to relax 😅

(Also writing this request reminded me of a drawing of Cross chilling in a cabin that I made a while back, is it okay if I tag you when I post it?)

Thank you and have a nice day! :D

Hello! Thank you so much for the request! Of course you can tag me in the Crosshair cabin post, it sounds so sweet! 😊💜

By the Warmth of the Fire

Summary: The Batch go on a relaxing retreat to a cabin in the woods.

Word count: 904

Warnings: None.

-- -- -- -- --

“That shower definitely beats the one on the ship,” Hunter said, padding out of his bedroom and tying up his almost dry hair into a quick bun before readjusting his bandana. Despite his efforts to tame the flowing curls, a couple of stubborn strands still flopped over the red fabric. 

The worn fireplace crackled, casting a soft, welcoming glow over the open living space. The metal poker on the stand had been scorched until the original metallic shine dulled beneath the constant heat, and Hunter was careful when he balanced the deceptive weight of it and nudged the larger surviving logs. 

“Where are the others?” Echo asked as he set the steaming bowls of soup onto the coffee table. Crosshair trailed closely behind with a tray of hot chocolate, placing each on the stone slab by the fire to keep them warm. 

“They shouldn’t be too long,” Hunter replied. Settling into the nearest armchair, he sank into the plush cushions and accepted the bowl Echo handed to him. He took a sniff of the curling steam and recognised the scent. “This one of Gregor’s?” 

“Yeah. When I told him we were coming out here, he gave me the recipe and it seemed easy enough to put together.”

The door groaned in protest as Omega, Tech, and Wrecker pushed their way inside, shutting out the biting wind and tracking snow behind them. 

“We’ve been waiting for you three,” Echo chuckled, assisting his sister in removing her coat and hanging it on the hooks. He guided her to a comfortable spot in front of the crackling fire and placed a bowl of soup in her hands. “Careful, it’s still hot.” 

With a nod, the girl brought a spoonful to her lips and blew on it before taking a sip. “It’s good,” she said as Crosshair draped a blanket over her shoulders. 

“The smell’s making me hungry,” Wrecker groaned. His stomach growled as he dumped the armful of chopped logs onto the dwindling pile and grabbed his dinner. He ignored the spoon and sipped straight from the bowl, letting out a small, satisfied belch. “Tastes great,” he declared, digging back in. “We got anymore?” 

“There’s about half a pan left,” Echo said. “I also cut up one of the fresh loaves if anyone wants some bread.” Sitting himself down on the sofa beside Tech, he took the last serving and savoured the warm, heartening aroma. His brothers tucked into their meals, and the sound of spoons on ceramic and slurps mingled with the crackle of the fire as it put up a valiant effort against the gusts invading the chimney. 

“How did your exploration go?” Hunter asked, glancing between Omega and Tech. 

“We didn’t go far, like we promised,” Omega replied, “but we saw a flock of ice birds.”

“Arcasia birds,” Tech corrected gently. “I believe they were preparing to migrate underground, otherwise we would not have seen them.” 

“Sounds fun,” Hunter said. “Did you get a look at the trail?”

“The snow is clearing, so if we wanted to go on a hike up to the springs, tomorrow would be the optimal day for it,” Tech replied. 

The tracker relished the warmth of the soup as he drained the last spoonful and set the empty bowl onto the low table. “We can head out in the morning,” he suggested. “So long as we don’t have any heavy snowfall overnight.”

As a howl ravaged down the chimney, Wrecker swiftly shoved the mantlepiece guards up to prevent the ashes from scattering. “Looks to be getting colder,” he commented, ensuring none of the smouldering flecks had managed to reach Omega. “Might be best to grab those extra blankets from the attic.” 

“Oh,” Omega said with a spark of excitement, “I have an idea. If it’s going to be cold, we could bring the bedrolls in here and sleep by the fire.”

“I brought Sabacc cards so we could always play a few rounds before bed,” Crosshair added, and Omega threw him a competitive grin. 

Hunter nodded in approval to the plan. “Okay, but if there are any arguments like last time, we’re leaving those cards here.” 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Crosshair reasoned. 

“Finish your soup,” Hunter told him in a commanding yet light tone. 

Omega wasted no time in grabbing her share of hot chocolate after she had cleaned her bowl. She took a small sip, relishing the sweetness, and offered the other mugs to her brothers as they mopped up the rest of their dinner with the fresh bread. Crosshair directed her to the Sabacc cards, and mug in hand, she disappeared into the back bedroom and reappeared moments later with them.

Hunter nestled into his seat and glanced around at his siblings. On the sofa, Echo indulged Tech’s ramblings, asking him about the various bird species he had encountered during his trek as he flipped through the pictures on his datapad, while Crosshair, Wrecker, and Omega got to work setting up the game. The brawler’s raucous guffaws warmed the room as he clapped Crosshair on the shoulder in amusement, and the sniper returned a tickled laugh. 

“Hunter?” 

Hunter’s attention lifted to Omega as she presented him with a set of cards. 

“Are you feeling alright?” she asked. 

“Couldn’t be better,” he replied, a smile spreading across his face as he graciously took the playing cards. “Come on, I’ve got games to win before we go to bed.” 

[thecoffeelorian]

The Transport On The Left, #5

Title:  The Transport On The Left

Chapter:  Five

Genre:  Drama/Mystery

Word Count:  1.1 k.

Characters Included:  Wrecker, Captain Rex, and Commander Wolffe.

Brief Description:

"Does it make him a giant nerfherder to wish for something else besides working for scraps from others who don’t exactly enjoy his company, let alone having to stare down the barrel of what’s left of his life and spend it in total maddening silence?

Or should he just swallow all these feelings down like they’re a tasty milkshake from Dex’s Diner, force a smile, and go on doing whatever Hunter wants…?"

AO3: Link Here

No-Pressure Tags: @theosb0rnway @skellymom @gun-roswell @called-me-vicky @momojedi

@littlefeatherr @storminormins @thesmollestnerd @ilovemedia @sunshinesdaydream

@theta11lili @random-user753 @donut1642 @victorianretrogeek @thats-cacti

@gray-paladin @turkishfreak101 @idkwhatdoyouwannabecalled @riverside-of-neverland @wendywilliamsleftlip

@carlycrays @danger-noodles22 @lightninged @ladylienda @marvel-starwarsfangirl

@serinzatravel-blog @archaicsymbols @melymigo @wanderneverlost @spacemagicandlaserswords

@i-dont-know-how-this-site-works @moonstrider9904 @yeehawgeek and anyone else looking for a story where nobody dies.

Special Notes: This divider was created by @djarrex , and so I give all credit to her. :)

One // Two // Three // Four // Five// Six

Five

They’re gonna yell at you for stormin’ out like that.

Let ‘em yell all they want.

Hunter doesn’t like it when you do your elopement thing.

Hunter can deal with it just like everybody else.

Wrecker’s steps echo a bit too loud in the station’s corridor as he walks, a somewhat achy reminder that this station has, unfortunately, lost its purpose in life. Once, it held the solid position of tending to the wounded of the G.A.R., and as such could see up to two hundred Troopers a day if the fighting grew that heavy.

Nowadays, however, even though it’s got enough supplies for the welfare of around two battalions, it’s lucky to see a grand total of ten Troopers or less. Maybe that’s the amount of people in here right now, because even with his bad ear, Wrecker hardly hears anyone else out here besides himself. That’s got to be a good thing, then, because it means less chance of discovery and attack by any unwanted visitors, sure…but then again, it also means there’s almost nobody to talk to.

Especially not when the good Captain’s team of rescuers delivered Crosshair into their hands one minute; then had to go off to a different area of the station the next. Not when they’re still waiting for the grand return of AZI-3, as well as the chance of putting at least one unsolved mystery to rest.

Still…would it really have hurt Cap so much to stick around for more than a few minutes?!

Wrecker lets out a loud sigh and plops himself down in front of the nearest skyhole, his annoyance fizzling up ever so slightly. Okay, so he DID lie about going to find Fireball, but then again, he could cut the tension in that hospital room with a lightsaber, so he had to get out of there FAST. After all, he needs more to do lately, even if he won’t say such things out loud.

On the one hand, yeah, he IS happy to do other things besides fight and blow things up all the time. He’s finally bought his own paint set with the credits Cid managed to toss his way, so obviously, he’s learnin’ how to use ‘em. Already he’s tried his hand at painting a few tookas on the walls of the Marauder—red and black, of course, although he won’t exactly say no to the other colors as well—and so far, everyone seems to approve. Kriff, even Tech got so excited over his new talent that he almost dropped his datapad to get a closer look, and Tech NEVER puts that thing down. That has to count for SOMETHING.

On the other hand, though…painting and scrapping for barely fifty credits apiece seems to be ALL that he’s good for lately, because not only has he NOT had a good brawl in ages, but unfortunately, there’s been almost NO explosions whatsoever…and honestly?

The lack of any real action is becoming just so…BORING!

And if he has to be honest with himself, which he WILL—Wrecker really and truly MISSES IT.

He misses the way he and the rest of the boys could push their way through enemy lines with nothing but sheer determination and a really big ship door.

He also misses how, even though some of the locations they were dispatched to looked nothing but impregnable, they always managed to find their way in and out with barely a scratch gained in return.

And third, but certainly not least, he misses—other people. Other Troopers who not only could back his squad up in times of trouble, but also WOULD lend a hand without ever thinking twice about it. Is it SO wrong of him, then, to want SOME part of this to come back in his life?

Does it make him a giant nerfherder to wish for something else besides working for scraps from others who don’t exactly enjoy his company, let alone having to stare down the barrel of what’s left of his life and spend it in total maddening silence?

Or should he just swallow all these feelings down like they’re a tasty milkshake from Dex’s Diner, force a smile, and go on doing whatever Hunter wants…?

It’s about a minute or two later when Wrecker starts hearing voices coming from down the hall, two in total, and they sound kinda annoyed with each other. Does this mean Captain Rex is circling back around…? It might be great if he did! At least he might have somebody to vent to about his thoughts, then—that is, if Cap isn’t too busy with anything first!

“—don’t understand why—have commed—while, SIR.”

“We’ve—through this, Wolffe—utmost secrecy…”

And that’s just without the added bonus of getting to hear something, ANYTHING, about all of the Trooper rescue efforts going on behind the scenes. How wizard would THAT be if he did…?!

“I am sorry—Venator disaster, don’t get me—but it’s better if—things are kept—”

“—Who’s. There.”

All three of the men in this hall—Wrecker, Captain Rex, and a second Commander who also looks like he’s missing one eye—immediately fall still and silent, their respective focus turning to size the others up.

“Excuse me, sir, but I don’t believe we asked for eavesdroppers.”

Wrecker himself suddenly gets the feeling he’s standing before that nexu back on Saleucami, only this time, it’s learned to take on Trooper form so that it can catch human prey ten times easier.

At least, that’s the way he reads the room until Cap steps forward, one hand raised in a calming gesture.

“Easy, Wolffe, he’s a friend.”

“You’re SURE.”

“Yes. Wrecker’s—friend of Echo’s, so by association…”

“…He’s a friend of ours.”

“Correct. Now, could you PLEASE stand down…?”

Wrecker swears that he sees Wolffe’s mouth twist into a downward turn of disapproval, a lot of Troopers had done that to him before—yet, thankfully, he also must have thought things over as well, for the next thing he knew, Wolffe had let some of the tension out of the room by taking two steps back.

“There we are...thank you, Commander.”

A collective sigh spreads around the little gathering there, and Wrecker can’t help but grin a little in relief. Things are tense enough everywhere, he knows, so obviously he doesn’t want to make any rough situations even worse.

“Yeah…thanks, Commander! Er…d’ you want me to go back with the others?”

“Well, I’m afraid that depends, Trooper. What brings you out here?”

The time has come, he thinks with a little shudder, taking in a quick breath and then breathing it out again. It’s now or never, Master Billaba give me strength...

Wrecker stood up straight, made eye contact, and began to speak his peace.

[violetjedisylveon]

Amnesia Chapter 10 - Rude Clones

Bad Batch Omega centric AU

Summary: Crosshair is a space racist and being a huge dick for no reason, Freyu(Pantoran OC) is very confused.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: xenophobia and space racism, also some mentions of blood and jokes at Crosshair's expense, he deserves it though.

A/N:

For reference of who's who, here you go:

ES-02 = Yaosney

ES-03 = Lanhass

ES-04 = Izzatrun

Es-05 = Elrani

Es-06 = Redwymo

Bad Batch Amnesia AU Masterpost

________________________________________________________________________________

The security system sent her an alert. Freyu paused what she was doing, the laundry, and pulled up the security feed onto the nearest screen.

The system was detecting a disturbance at the edge of its range. Human blood had been shed, and it was detecting predatory activity. It was raining and nighttime, perfect time for an ambush predator to attack, especially for those without the necessary advantages, like humans.

"Meg'ika, I'm going out, there's someone in trouble, stay upstairs, Cassony will stay with you." She called up to the human girl.

"Uh, okay!" Omega called back down.

"I'll be back within the hour!" She assured her anxious charge.

She glanced at Boa, the Chrysocy was sitting at the door and eagerly waiting to go out.

"Wanna investigate?" She prompted the fox.

Boa chirped happily and slipped out the door. Freyu rolled her eyes and grabbed her coat and blaster rifle. Between that, Asichi and Boa, she would be just fine.

XXX

CT-9904 aimed his rifle at the approaching creature, it was large and heavy, and looked dangerous. It was like the whole planet was trying to kill him, all because that stupid bounty hunter wasn't doing her damn job, and just fucking his subordinate whenever she got the chance.

Maker, he kind of hated them.

The creature skidded to a stop and he caught a good look at it. It was one of those horses he had been seeing so much, the ones with horns on their heads and tails. It had a rider too.

The rider immediately put their arms up when he aimed at them.

"Whoa! Don't shoot! I came to help!" They had a very high pitched voice, he assumed they were rather young.

CT-9904 lowered his rifle and stared the rider down. Something moved in the grass next to them, he swung his rifle to face it.

"Whoa! That's mine! Don't shoot her!" The rider exclaimed.

CT-9904 rolled his eyes and put his weapon away. The ambush predators were gone by now, scared off. The rider snickered.

"Something funny?" He prompted.

"They haven't gone. They're just waiting. If I'd been any later, you'd be dead." The rider explained.

"Oh really?" He grunted.

"Yep. I can see them, they aren't attacking because Asichi is here." She patted her beast's neck.

"So do you guys need help? Security system said you were hurt." She asked.

"Your security system told you we were hurt?" Lanhass asked.

"Yeah? Your security must be shit if it doesn't tell you that. How else are you supposed to know when the predators are around?" The rider said, leaning over a rifle strapped to her saddle.

"So who's hurt?" She asked, digging through some bag she had.

"I've got some meds, but it'd be better to treat you out of the rain, I've a storehouse not too far from here, you guys can rest up there if you want, can't promise it'll be the cleanest, but it's safe." The rider offered.

CT-9904 wanted to reject her help immediately, she sounded like a child, he had no reason to trust any of the aid a child could offer him. He was just about to say something when Yaosney stepped up.

"That would be greatly appreciated. Please, lead the way." She said with far too soft of a tone for a soldier.

CT-9904 glared at his subordinate, but knew better than to so soundly refuse aid.

"Okay then. Follow me." The rider said cheerfully.

XXX

CT-9904 watched the Pantoran treat his troopers with a careful eye. The storehouse was decent cover, and had some good food stashed in the cupboards and an actual kitchen that worked. There were sufficient amenities and facilities, for that, he was thankful to the Pantoran. Even if he ignored her request not to smoke on her property.

The Pantoran looked about as young as she sounded, he'd put her around her mid teens if he had to give it a guess. She was short, he was almost a foot taller than her.

No matter how young she was, she certainly knew her stuff, her stitches were military level, or perhaps just doctor level, she seemed to have some hand in the medical industry. The storehouse had housed some medicines and salves, which she was using to treat his troops' injuries quite effectively. Bacta wasn't too common on this planet due to its abundance of natural healing plants and substances.

So far, the civilian hadn't given too much personal information aside from her name, Freyu, and idle chatter to fill the empty space. In his opinion, his troopers were too comfortable with a non combatant. The alien could turn on them in an instant, could be secretly poisoning them.

The Pantoran glanced over at him, winced and asked Yaosney, who had foolishly given her name, something, his infuriating trooper laughed and patted the Pantoran's back, telling her to relax and slipping in an insult or two at him. As she tended to do.

"Something funny?" He prompted.

The Pantoran stilled for a moment, pausing her stitches on Elrani's leg.

"No, I just had a question." She said, quickly returning to her task.

She was fidgety, but most beings, most aliens, were around him. They were an ungrateful lot.

The Pantoran quickly wrapped up her work, getting more nervous by the minute, but only he seemed to notice the odd behavior. Something told him this behavior wasn't out of the ordinary, that he had seen many non-humans get nervous around clones, but something about this one just set him off.

She looks like that bounty hunter. He realized. Sure, they were different shades of blue, and had different hair colors, but there was an undeniable resemblance present. He scoffed, the bounty hunter would blame him for thinking all Pantorans looked alike.

They really did look similar. The bounty hunter, he was sure, was old enough to be this Pantoran's mother. And Yaosney, the bounty hunter's very committed partner, was being uncharacteristically nice to-

"Um, is there anything else you need?" The Pantoran asked, shaking him out of her thoughts.

Her question was directed at him, but she was refusing to look at him.

"I think we're all good. Thank you for your assistance." Yaosney said far too kindly.

"Alright then. I'll just clean up and be on my way." The Pantoran said.

"Yeah, get on it, blue skin." CT-9904 snipped.

The Pantoran paused what she was doing and shot him a quizzical, accusatory look. Her golden yellow gaze hardened. Behind her, Yaosney was shaking her head at him.

"What did you just call me?" She asked.

"Blue skin." He repeated, exhaling a puff of smoke.

Lanhass, Izzatrun, Elrani and Redwymo all looked away from him with varying levels of embarrassment or shock, Yaosney, infuriating as ever, just stared him down. The Pantoran's face flushed indigo with anger.

"It's true isn't it? You're a blue skin." He said.

"I'm a Pantoran, not a blue skin." She hissed.

"What's it matter? You blue skins are all the same anyway." He shrugged.

He had clearly struck a nerve. The Pantoran looked like she was about to kill him.

Before the situation could escalate any further, Yaosney stepped right between them, soundly killing the bit of fun he'd managed to have. She rested her hand on the Pantoran's shoulder, the girl in question flinched like she'd been struck.

"Let's calm down. I'm sure you know how thick headed clones can be, right?" She said, shooting him a fiery glare.

"After all, we don't want to offend our citizens, right, Commander?" She said with a subtle snarl.

"They aren't imperial citizens yet. And like I said, it doesn't matter what I call them. They're all the same at the end of the day." He flicked his burnt cigarette onto the ground.

The Pantoran made a sort of growling sound at him.

"Just like the animals." He sneered.

That got her to shut up and drop the situation completely. She abruptly turned away from him and busied herself cleaning some of her supplies.

Yaosney glared at him and gave him that disapproving sneer she always did whenever he smoked. She turned on him and went to talk to the civilian.

"Ignore him, kid, you know what bastards clones can be. This one just happens to be a big dick too, though with the way he acts, he probably has a tiny one." She told the younger woman.

Freyu snorted and nearly stabbed herself with the needle she was cleaning.

"Isn't he your superior?" She asked quietly.

"Ah don't worry about that, I can beat that guy any day. Besides, my girlfriend is absolutely going to rip him a new one for all the bullshit he pulls." She patted her back.

"I'd like to see that." Freyu chuckled.

Yaosney glanced at her clock, it was getting pretty late, and from what she had said, Freyu had a sibling waiting for her. She could feel the clone's gaze on them, he was certainly annoying today.

"You should get going, there's nothing that you can't do another day." She said.

Freyu glanced at her, then the commander, and nodded.

Yaosney made sure to keep herself between the young woman and the clone as she grabbed what she needed and left quickly.

Once she was gone, Yaosney turned on her infuriating superior officer.

"Is there something wrong with you?"

"Ask yourself that question." He snapped.

Yaosney's trigger finger twitched, her hand subconsciously moved towards her pistol. The clone smirked and flicked his cigarette onto the floor again. Fuck, she hated the stench of the vile substance.

"Watch your tells." He ordered.

"Watch your manners." She shot back.

________________________________________________________________________________

Crosshair, pissed and coming up with conspiracies: the bounty hunter had a secret child as a teenager and is avoiding this part of the planet to avoid the guilt over abandoning her child, but she knows and that's why this Pantoran is so jumpy. It's the only reason.

Freyu: actually it's cause my mom fucked your donor way back when and it's kinda awkward to think about.

Crosshair: what?

Freyu: what?

...

Chora*hears Crosshair's conspiracy through gossip*: I don't have a secret love child, I just have a personal rule! Humans are so fucking stupid!

Ngl I really did that bit just for pure shiggles, it was dumb and fun and I don't care if it makes sense or not, it's funny. It's especially funny cause Chora and Freyu look nothing alike, even by human standards they are very different looking.

I feel it is very important to state that

ES-02/Yaosney is about 30 and has been doing the whole fighting thing for way longer than Crosshair, the dude's 11, she has at least a decade of experience on him. So she can and will kick his ass if she wants too, that is why she has no respect for him, he acts very childish, in her professional opinion.

Also Freyu looks a lot younger than she actually is(I'm not too good at drawing that in my art sadly), she looks about 15 or 16, and has a naturally higher, younger sounding voice, so most people think she's pretty young, she's also short so that doesn't help her situation with xenophobia.

Sorry for the long end notes!

I hope you all have a good day, whatever that is for you!

VJS Out!

[krunchycrispy]

I have to admit, I’ve fallen in love with your AU of The Bad Batch as modern YouTubers (the post about Rampart’s apology video may have gotten a few cackles out of me with the image it made in my head)

The brothers all lovingly picking on each other throughout their channel sounds like something I would watch if it were real. Could you perhaps tell us a bit more about the video where the bald trio follow Hunter’s hair tutorial?

I’m glad you like my tomfoolery! It’s been a while since I’ve thought about this AU, but I do have some slightly descriptive bullet points of the video.

The video starts out surprisingly serine. It’s just Echo, Wrecker and Crosshair sat around a small table in front of the couch. There’s probably a line such as “As you all know, you all somehow managed to get out brother to squeeze out the secret to his luscious locks, and as you can see,” They point to their own heads. “We want in.”

They purposefully got the most comical wigs they could find, and Wrecker can’t stop giggling them. His laughter ends up interrupting a few lines and becomes contagious, leading the three too be laughing for a good two minuets in the final video that may or may not have been cut from a longer period of time.

A few minuets is spent trying to get the wigs on. They don’t know if the caps are necessary or not but they spend some time behind the camera trying to figure out how to put the caps on without any prior knowledge despite Echo suggesting they just looks for a tutorial or something.

Omega ends up walking in on Wrecker with an 18th century judge wig, Echo trying to pull a rainbow clown wig out of it’s squished packaged shape with no luck, and Crosshair battling with a wig cap. Needless to say the viewers would know the exact moment she arrived with a round startled snorts turning into laughter behind the camera.

What would a CF99 video be without sibling banter? Echo gives into it a bit, but it’s mainly coursing through Crosshair and Wrecker. Omega joins in a bit too behind the camera, going about her business or eagerly watching where this goes.

This at some point evolves into a battle with one of the products at some point. Probably some hair gel or leave in conditioner. I think this would be between Crosshair, Wrecker and Omega. In case it wasn’t obvious Echo is the adult in this situation (most of the time, once a glob of gel hits his nose he’s wiping it off and aiming it at the nearest person).

Wrecker uses it as an excuse to say “Order in the court!”

They all have a snack break at some point. Crosshair is the one preparing it because he has the least amount of product in his hands at the time. He’s thoughtful enough to make some for Tech and Hunter too (doesn’t outright admit it. Wrecker just sees him make extra and goes “Aww, you do care after all!”).

There is a small twenty second clip where Crosshair finds Tech and gives him lunch, recording his brother’s reaction to his new head of violet hair.

“Good afternoon Tech.”

“Why are you wearing that?🤨”

“Are you hungry, dearest brother of mine?”

“Thank you- But what are you all doing in the other room?”

He also gives him Hunter’s lunch to pass on, as to not ruin the surprise.

This piques Tech to go and see what’s going on in the other room. He doesn’t get it at first but does find some comedy in it after it’s briefly explained to him. He does personally think they shouldn’t be wasting hair product on the wigs though.

Tech records Hunter’s reaction for them. Omega asks him to sit down on the couch for a surprise, and the brothers just enter and give Hunter very detailed reviews about his tutorial. That’s if Echo can get his out through all his laughter. He loves playful moments like this with his brothers.

Hunter looks tired and confused the entire time, but he cracks a few smiles.

At the end Crosshair doesn’t stop his mockery, and the shortest brother just snatches the wig off of his head. Wrecker then sentences him to one month without hair (Cross is already slowly growing his hair back, but it’s still barely past the buzzed stage here) before his is swiped too in response.

[killianglyndon]

Reunion (tbb ep.16 fix-it fic)

Pairing: Crosshair x Medic! Female Reader

Warning: tbb ep.16 spoilers, mentioned of killing people, inhibitor chip?, some kissing, grammar mistakes, typo (cause i didn’t proof read lol. im too tired to do that.)

A/N: anyway, i was so mad and sad about tbb finale, so i decided to write a fix-it fic. That doesn’t mean I hate the episode, this is just my version of story. im not really good at writing so...haha. that’s why im a gifmaker, also my main language is not English, so there would have some typos and grammar mistakes.

Word count: 1.6k

read on ao3

You and The Bad Batch were on the way to save Hunter. You knew this would be a trap, but you couldn’t help but think of a certain sniper, your lover.

You and the batch didn’t understand what had happened to him at first, his brother, your love. The way he called you and the batch traitor, the way he raised his gun to you, and the way he talked. This wasn’t him, this was not the crosshair you know. 

Then, it turned out that the kaminoans had implanted inhibitor chips in every clone to make clones blindly follow orders, even killing the jedi.

“Good soldiers follow orders” This line kept echoing in your head after you heard Crosshair say it. This, this was not the crosshair you know.

***

“You and omega wait here” Echo told you and omega.

“No, we should stick together!” Omega protested. 

You put a hand on Omega’s shoulder, trying to calm her.

“No, echo’s right” Wrecker agreed with him.

“Stay out of sight, if things go south we’ll send you a signal. Go back to the ship and contact Rex.” Echo added, looking at you and omega.

You gave him a nod and pulled Omega back to your side before watching them ascend to the training room.

You know how much Hunter meant to Omega, the way they interacted, and the way they cared for each other. You understood why the young girl looked up to him.

“Omega, I’m sure they’ll get Hunter back.” You reassured her.

“I know, and Crosshair.” She looked at you with her bright eyes.

You were a little shocked when she mentioned him. All this time, you tried so hard to suppress your feelings for him, your love for him. The batch knew that you missed him, they could tell. The way you stared into his empty bed, and the nights that you cried until you were too tired and the tears were dried.

“Yeah, and Crosshair…” You smiled sadly at the young girl.

***

When you and Omega joined the batch in the training room, you, Omega, and AZI stayed in one of the gun towers. That was when you saw him, your Crosshair. Hunter and he were tackling each other while Tech, Echo, and Wrecker were shooting the droids.

“I believe you may have activated a few too many droids.” AZI said to Omega and you.

“ We can see that, AZI.” Omega raised her bow, aiming for the nearest droid to Hunter and Crosshair. Meanwhile, you used your blaster to shoot some of the droids near the others.

***

After clearing out all the droids, you, Omega, and AZI joined the others on the ground. You walked closer to Crosshair and Hunter. 

You could see that Crosshair was shocked to see you, the coldness in his eyes, mixing up with a tiny bit of shock.

The big scar on the right side of his head was horrifying, did the empire did this to him? Your heart almost broke into million pieces, seeing the love of your life like this.

“Crosshair…” Your voice almost sounded like a whisper. 

For a moment, you see the real Crosshair, your Crosshair. But soon replaced by the coldness and aloofness.

“Crosshair, forget the empire. This isn’t you, it’s the inhibitor chip.” Hunter tried to talk some senses into him.

“Wrong.” Crosshair stared back at Hunter. “I had my chip removed a long time ago.” He added.

All of you looked shocked, Tech and Wrecker looked at each other, speechless. Hunter almost looked hurt. 

“Since when?” Hunter asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes”

No. No. This is not Crosshair. The Crosshair you know would never do this.

“Cross, the empire lied about many things, what if they lied to you?” You asked, trying to hold back your tears.

“This is who I am.” 

Crosshair tried to raise his rifle, but Hunter was faster. He stunned him before Crosshair’s attempt.

***

“Hunter, three Venators are descending on the city. We need to leave, now.” Tech stated.

“Wrecker, grab Crosshair. He’s coming with us.” Hunter grabbed Crosshair’s rifle and backpack, while you went to picked up Crosshair’s helmet.

You saw Omega gave Hunter a nod before walking away. Hunter caught you staring at him, so you gave a sad smile to him in return.

“He’s coming home with us.” Hunter said.

***

You and The Batch finally made it to Nala Se’s lab, Tech and Echo were currently trying to figure out a plan. After Crosshair and Hunter’s intense conversation, you saw him walking to the window and taking a seat to rest.

“AZI, come with me, I need your help on something.” You asked.

AZI followed you to Crosshair, you took a seat beside him.

“Crosshair…”

“What do you want?” He asked coldly.

“AZI is a medical droid, he can scan you to check if you still have the chip.”

“Indeed, I helped CT-5555 removed his and CT-5385’s chip according to my memory database.” AZI said.

“Fine.” Crosshair agreed reluctantly.

“CT-9904, this scan only takes a few seconds” AZI said before scanning Crosshair.

To be honest, you knew he still had the chip, you hoped he still had the chip. Cause there was no way, no way the Crosshair you knew would be like this.

“The scan is completed.” AZI said.

“So..?” You asked.

“CT-9904 still has his chip, the chip’s effect was weakened due to the injury from ion engine.” AZI answered.

You felt almost relieved? 

The Batch heard it and rushed to you, “He still has...his chip?” Hunter asked, sounded a little guilty.

Echo, Tech, Omega, and Wrecker looked at each other, surprised by this unexpected news as well.

“That would be correct.”AZI replied.

“Could you remove it, AZI?” Omega asked, she wanted his brother back as much as any of you did.

“Yes. I’m capable of removing CT-9904’s inhibitor chip.”

“Do it.” Hunter said.

You stayed next to Crosshair while AZI removed his chip. The surgery was faster than you think, you hold Crosshair’s hand during the whole surgery, and you still holding it now.

“CT-9904’s chip has been removed. He should be awake in any minutes.” AZI stated.

You felt his hand pressing yours, “Crosshair?”

“I...I…”

“Hey, you’re okay now. We removed your chip.” You reassured him.

Crosshair looked away from you, his eyes filled with guilt, confusion, anger, sadness.

“Don’t you hate me?” He asked. “All those things I had done…”

Your hand reached out to stroke his face, “No. Never. I know it’s the chip, Cross. It’s not your fault.” You smiled at him. “I love you, always and forever.” 

Crosshair put his hand on your face, wiping away the tears falling down your face. “ But I shot at you, I tried to kill you… I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…”

“Shhh, I forgive you, Cross. All of it. I’m sorry we didn’t come to save you earlier…” 

Crosshair sat up and pulled you into a hug, you melted into his touch, inhaling his scent. Your Crosshair was finally back to you, this is real. The sleepless night without him, the loneliness, the emptiness, the desperation, were all gone. Crosshair was back to you, alive.

“I love you too, cyare.” He said it back.

He pulled away a little so he could kiss you on the lips, his hand trailed to your nape, kissing you with force. You and Crosshair clung on to each other so hard, afraid you would lose each other again. That was when you heard Hunter cleared his throat, you two finally pulled away from each other.

“I know you two miss each other but this lab is about to collapse. and this is not very…” Hunter said and eyed Omega.

“Right, sorry about that.” You answered, then looked at Crosshair whose arm was still wrapped around you. “Cross.” You nudged him.

“Fine.” He gave up and retreated his arm.

“I see Crosshair still has his severe and unyielding personality.” Tech stated.

“This is called missing someone, Tech.” Crosshair said and pulled out one toothpick to throw it at him.

“Ha! He’s back!” Wrecker exclaimed and playfully punched Crosshair’s shoulder. 

Crosshair pretended to show an annoyed face, but deep down you knew he missed his brothers.

“Listen, Crosshair. I’m sorry. We should have come for you earlier.” Hunter said. “I was trying to keep the rest of the squad safe, but you are one of us. I’m sorry.”

Crosshair didn’t say anything, just stood up and walk toward Hunter. For a moment you thought he was going to punch him, but instead, Crosshair extended his hand to Hunter.

Hunter looked at Crosshair’s hand then his eyes, he reached out his hand to shake Crosshair’s. 

“We need to leave fast, the structure could not hold much longer.” AZI chimed in.

***

All of you finally made it to the platform, for once the Kamino is sunny.

Omega stared at the Tipoca City, which was all destroyed. “It’s… all gone.”

You looked at that direction, the place all clones called home was all gone. The Batch and you took a few seconds to process this, to accept the fact.

“We should leave before Empire’s scouts show up.” Tech said.

“You coming with us?” Wrecker asked, looking at Crosshair.

“Yeah.” Crosshair said and took out a toothpick, putting it into his mouth.

Hunter nodded at him before walking to the ship with the others.

You still stood next to Crosshair, “You ready?” you asked.

“Yeah.” He gave you a little smile then intertwined his hand with yours, leading you to the Marauder. 

You didn’t know what the future would be, but one thing was sure. Crosshair would be right beside you, always and forever.

tagging: @ahsoka1 @kavecika @starwarschicken @itsjml @ct-1994 @loth-wolffe-main @theiirs @thefeatherofhope @ahs0ka-tan0 @mallr4ts @kriffclone

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) Camping: Echo’s Ending

   Intro

   “I guess I’ll sunbathe with Echo,” you decided.  He had already begun carrying his folding chair across the clearing, and he stopped to wait for you.  Omega gave you a nudge, her eyes flickering to the rest of the folding chairs before coming back to you. 

   “Go on!” she whispered.

   “Alright, I’m going,” you whispered back, though you were trying your best to hide a smile.  She was way too excited about this.  “Where are you heading?”

   “I’m going with Hunter.  See you!”

   You shook your head as she hurried away before grabbing one of the chairs and catching up with Echo.  

   He chuckled.  “What’s with her?”

   “She’s probably just excited about the trip,” you replied with a shrug.  The two of you ventured to the very center of the clearing where you’d get the most sun with no trees towering over you to block it.  As you unfolded your chair, Echo tugged off his red t-shirt.  The sight out of the corner of your eye surprised you, but you managed to keep your eyes focused on the task at hand.

   “It is so bright here,” he murmured, lifting his face toward the sky.  His eyes were closed, and his mouth was pulled up in a smile.  Your heart leaped at the look of happiness on his face at something so simple.

   He deserves to be this happy all the time, you thought.  You wished you could bring the sun’s rays aboard the ship so he could enjoy it whenever he wanted.

   Echo released a sigh and took a seat in his chair, letting his arms stretch out on the rests.  You did the same beside him.  Your eyes slid shut as you appreciated the warmth that the sun brought to your face.  However, it was already getting a little too warm.  You peeked an eye open at Echo’s shirtless form.  If he was going to be comfortable, so would you.  You pulled your shirt off and tossed the garment aside to reveal your swimsuit underneath.

   He glanced your way at the sound of movement in your chair.  “You good?”

   “Yeah, I just didn’t realize how hot it really was out here.”

   “The shade of the trees can be deceiving,” he agreed with a chuckle.  “Want some water?”  He lifted a canister toward you, and you accepted it gratefully.

   “Thank you.”  You took a few sips and handed it over, watching as he tipped it back to take a swig himself.  “It got quiet really fast.”

   Echo stole a glance at the empty camp over his shoulder, nodding.  “Probably the quietest it’s been since I joined them.  They’re a nice group and all, but sometimes...”

   You recalled the many, many times you had to endure bickering aboard the ship.  There were some interesting dynamics that came into play in a group of seven.  Not to mention, it wasn’t very difficult to get on each other’s nerves on such a small vessel.

   You and Echo both exchanged glances and laughed aloud.

   “I know what you mean.”

   “Well sure, we can laugh about it now,” he chuckled.  “But just wait, when this trip’s over, it’ll be the same thing all over again.”  

   You shook your head in amusement.  “They really do drive me crazy, but sometimes it’s not a bad thing.”

   “You know, you probably drive me crazy the least.”

   You giggled.  “Why, Echo, that’s so nice of you to say.”

   “No, really.  I like that we get along.”

   You looked over to see Echo already meeting your eyes.  Your heart accelerated under his warm gaze.  Even though he put on a grumpy demeanor at times, there was no mistaking the depth of his kindness and affection.  You saw it in the little moments when he was tender with Omega or protective over his squad, including you.  There had been many occasions where he was particularly protective of you.  It made your heartbeat quicken in your chest, yet at the same time, it made you feel so safe.

   “I guess I can say the same about you.”  You smiled.  “You drive me crazy the least too.”

   “Good to know.”  Echo leaned his head against the back of the chair, exhaling.  Both of you fell into a comfortable silence as you soaked in the sun’s rays.  Bird songs filled the air.  The quiet buzz of some sort of bug sounded nearby.  Time passed.  You were drifting in and out of a peaceful nap, mind only focusing on the brightness beyond your eyelids and the warmth it provided.

   At one point, you awoke to see that the sun had drifted behind the clouds.  The sky had gone gray, and the air was beginning to cool.  You glanced over to see Echo still fast asleep in his chair.  His face was serene as if the sunshine brought him good dreams instead of the nightmares he had on occasion aboard the Marauder.  You hated the idea of waking him, but the sky was looking grayer by the minute.

   “Looks like it might rain,” you commented softly.

   “Hm?” Echo paused, mid-snore, and blinked his eyes open.  “What was that?”

   “Sorry to wake you...It looks like it’s going to rain.”

   He seemed to wake up a little more, rubbing the back of his neck with a yawn.  “That’s alright.  We’d better take cover then.”

   “Oh no…” you muttered.  “Omega and I forgot to put the tarps up.”  But as you stood from your chair and folded it up, you looked over to see someone had put the tarps over the tents.  “Nevermind.”

   “How long were we out?” Echo asked, glancing around.  It was then that you noticed a fire had been made and put out.  A raindrop on your forehead caught your attention.  You wiped it off with the back of your hand and looked at your teammate who was also wiping a droplet from his bare shoulder.  “Looks like it’s starting.  Let’s go.”

   Both of you hurried your chairs over to the pile and ducked into the nearest of the two tents.  It was totally empty except for a few sleeping bags.  You peeked out to see Tech sitting at the doorway of the other tent.

   “The two of you slept through lunch,” he called, handing over two containers.  “I took the liberty of saving you some leftovers.”

   “Thanks, Tech,” you nodded appreciatively.  “Is everyone back?”

   “Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega are here with me.”  He gazed out across the clearing.  “Crosshair still hasn’t returned, though he commed that he was on his way.”

   “Hi, _________!” Wrecker called, pushing past Tech to wave.

   You laughed and waved back.  “Hi, Wrecker.”

   “Anyway,” Tech tried to shove his brother back inside.  “My scanners indicate the rain should last a little while.  We plan to wait it out.”

   “Sounds good.”

   With one last nod, Tech zipped the doorway shut.  You did the same, crawling back in to see Echo getting his sleeping bag out.  You set down the containers next to him.  “Tech saved us some leftovers.”

   “We really must have been out,” Echo shook his head.  “Missed lunch and everything.”

   “It was a good nap,” you said.  “Much-needed.”  You pulled your shirt back on over your bathing suit, feeling a shiver run down your spine from the disappearance of the sun.  Once Echo’s stuff was set up, he did the same.

   “Looks like we’ve got the place to ourselves,” he joked.

    As if you weren’t already aware that it was just you and him in the tent.  As if you weren’t already thrilled over it.

   “Yep, until Crosshair gets back or the rain stops.”

   “Well then, let’s enjoy it while it lasts.”  He patted the spot beside him, and you smiled and took a seat.  Leaning against his shoulder, you listened as the soft tap-tap of rain on the tarp grew heavier with each second.  It was a good thing the tent was on a higher part of the clearing, or else there might be water seeping in from the ground.

   “What a day,” you said.  “First we got to enjoy the sun, and now we get to enjoy the rain.”

   He hummed in agreement.  “There’s no one else I’d rather enjoy it with.” 

   Your gaze flickered to his profile as he gazed straight ahead.

   Your palm brushed his cheek, slowly turning his face toward you and bringing it closer.  The gentle contact evoked a small gasp from him as he leaned into your touch, eyes shut.  A few seconds passed before Echo closed the distance and kissed you.  What felt like electricity hummed through you at the contact.  He drew back only for a moment to whisper your name, half-lidded eyes glowing with adoration before molding his lips to yours.  It was your turn to gasp as his hand went around your waist and pulled you against him.

   “Echo,” you murmured.

   “Hm?” he paused, lips hovering near your chin as he listened.

   “There’s no one else I’d rather enjoy it with either.”

   He pressed a kiss to your jaw and another one to your cheek.  “Good.”  There was a smile that held a rare confidence as he gazed at you with eyes glinting, almost a smug smirk, and it made your heart thump wildly in your chest.

   The sound of the tent unzipping prompted the two of you to snap your gazes to the door.  It was so sudden that neither of you scooted away or put any distance between you.  Crosshair entered the tent, scowling and muttering at the dampness of his clothes.

   “What?” he halted, eyes flickering between you.  “Did I interrupt something?”

   You and Echo exchanged looks and shrugged, neither of you knowing quite what to say to that.  You scooted back to your own sleeping bag on account of not wanting to give Crosshair another reason to be grumpy.  He and Echo started talking about the interesting change in weather, and you let your gaze wander out the tent door which hadn’t been zipped shut just yet.  You felt a warm hand take yours, and you stole a glance at Echo as he looked your way.

[that-vigilante-piedpiper]

For vigilante!Reo, I'm imagining that Reo would only use ranged weapons as support for Piper (so like Piper is in the fray of things with his pipes/staff and Reo is just like standing on a nearby rooftop sniping with like a crossbow)

Also crooks are shit at names so I'm imagining something like "Crossfire" or "Crosshairs"

“Watch your six, damnit!” Reo shouts from above, reloading his crossbow with a blunt, taser-tipped bolt and firing. It slams into the back of the villain below him.

“That’s what I’ve got you for!” Piper calls up at the older teen. He has the audacity to not so much as glance behind him as the villain seizes up and collapses.

Reo’s stationed on the building’s roof just above where Izuku’d been fighting. His staff glints in the darkness as he strikes a triumphant pose. Reo yanks the night vision goggles off his face. “You can’t keep relying on me like that! I might not always be here to help!” He yells angrily.

Izuku’s laugh carries up from the alley. “I know, I know~” he chuckles, brushing it off.

Reo huffs, forcing himself to release the tension in his shoulders. He never would’ve been tempted into vigilantism if he’d known it’d only make Izuku more careless.

“You’re friend’s right,” a voice laughs darkly from behind Reo, ringing loudly in the night air. There’s a sharp pain in his shoulder as his arm is grabbed and forcefully wrenched behind his back. His face twists and Reo lets out a grunt of pain.

Izuku looks up with wide, fear filled eyes. “Counterbalance!” He can’t quite see what’s happening from where he is, but he can sense the sudden danger Reo’s been cast into as he rushes towards the nearest fire escape.

The villain’s attention wavers towards Izuku as the crossbow slips from Reo’s grasp. It clatters loudly against the roof. She pushes Reo closer to the ledge to get a better eye on Izuku’s location. “Stay where you are if you want your friend here alive!” She calls, peeking over the side of the building as Izuku grinds to a halt on the fire escape stairs. The pounding echo of his his boots fall silent.

Izuku’s quiet for a moment, only the sound of his heavy breathing audible from up above. “What do you want.”

“What do I want?” The woman asks, pushing Reo’s arm further up his back until a cry of pain forces it’s way through his lips.

“Please!” Izuku cries.

Izuku’s fully distracted her now. Reo can tell by the way her grip loosens around his forearm. He grits his teeth, pinching his eyes shut before using his free hand to sneak one of the crossbow bolts from the quiver at his hip.

“I want you to turn yourselves over to the police.” The smile in the woman’s voice is evident. “Killing you would put a bounty on my head, but I’d be willing to accept it if my colleagues and I are able to return to business as usual. If you turn yourselves in, however, it’d yield slightly better results.”

Reo’s grip tightens around the arrow before driving it into the thigh of the woman behind him. Electricity crackles up her leg and she cries out, knee giving way beneath her. She releases him and Reo jerks away with a hiss of pain as his right arm returns to dangle limply at his side.

She does her best to stumble back up, desperately spitting curses as she goes.

Izuku shouts something incomprehensible from below before resuming his mad dash up the fire escape.

Reo draws one of his newly acquired weapons. He aims it one armed at the woman and she freezes, falling silence and giving up all attempts to push herself back up.

Izuku finally claws his way over the roof’s ledge on all fours. His eyes widen upon seeing the weapon in Reo’s hand. “Is that a fucking gun?!” Izuku chokes.

Reo keeps his aim steady despite the trembling in his legs. “Killing you would put a bounty on my head,” he mocks, heart beating uncomfortably fast in his chest, “but I’d be willing to accept it if my colleague and I get to go home tonight.” He glances over at Izuku, jerking his head towards the villain as a silent signal to cuff her. “Turning you in, however,” he quips, “will yield slightly better results.”

[This was super fun to write!! Great idea anon, vigilante!reo my beloved 🤩🤩 also yes I gave Reo what I had originally planned to make Izuku’s, I think it fits him in a way it never really did fit Izuku considering Reo’s helping ‘balance him out’. 🤩🤩🤩]

[clotpolesonly]

Caught In The Crosshairs

written for the Anchored soulmate zine (@teen-wolf-soulmates-zine​) quite a while ago now, haha. i had a hell of a time fitting this concept into 3k, but i DID, so here ya go:

| Dallison | Teen | 3k | Soulmates | Organized Crime | FBI Agent Derek Hale | Undercover | Fake Relationship (With Kate) | Happy Ending |

(also on AO3)

--

The warehouse was unremarkable. That was probably the point; the main storehouse of an underground crime syndicate wouldn’t be much good if it stood out. Derek would’ve walked right past it if Kate hadn’t taken his arm to steer him through a nondescript door tucked neatly into the alleyway.

Derek let himself be steered, laughing, because that was what Kate’s boyfriend would do. It didn’t matter that her touch made him want to claw his skin off. He’d had months’ worth of practice in repressing that impulse.

For the thousandth time, he reminded himself that he’d volunteered for this. The Bureau could’ve used another agent, but none of them had the kind of history with the syndicate that he did. Put him back in Kate’s path, rekindle their “connection”—it had been too easy.

The door opened to reveal stacks of shipping crates towering over them and stretching into the distance. People, too: walking the aisles, hauling cargo, conferring in hushed voices. They all had at least one visible weapon on them. If Kate was anything to go by, there were probably two more tucked away.

Derek’s hand brushed the gun stashed at the small of her back. She smiled at him, unconcerned, and tugged him forward.

“Daddy!” she called out.

An older man, still strongly built and with no fewer than three obvious guns on him, turned toward them. The Argent patriarch, one of the most powerful and influential criminals in the country. Also, coincidentally, the man who had ordered the hit on Derek’s family almost two decades ago.

And yet, the smile he graced Derek with was as warm and welcoming as anything. How he could smile like that at someone whose life he had all but destroyed, Derek would never understand.

Of course, Kate smiled at him too—smiled at him, kissed him, fucked him, said she loved him—and she had been the one holding the match. Maybe it was a flaw in the genetics. Maybe Argents were just categorically incapable of remorse, or love, or compassion. So far, Derek had seen no evidence to the contrary.

But he wasn’t meant to know any of that. Certainly, the Argents didn’t think he did or they would’ve sooner killed him than let him get within ten miles of their operation.

Derek swallowed down the bile in his throat, stuck out his hand, and said, “It’s an honor to finally meet you, sir.”

Gerard Argent raised an eyebrow but took his hand. “So polite for a purveyor of cocaine.”

“Daddy,” Kate said again, disapproving this time and with a pout to match. “Be nice. Derek’s the one who supplied our last shipment. It earned us a half mil, easy. Besides—” She leaned up to press a kiss to the line of Derek’s jaw. “—nothing says suppliers can’t have manners. His mama raised him right.”

She purred it right into his ear, voice like honey, and Derek’s stomach turned over. A wave of rage and revulsion clogged his throat, the mission momentarily forgotten, and it was only because Gerard was watching them with that placid smile of his that Derek didn’t pull the gun from Kate’s waistband and put an end to her then and there.

There was more at stake here than personal revenge.

He wrestled the feeling into submission like he had a hundred times before, turned his head, and accepted the cherry-chapstick-flavored kiss that Kate offered him. She patted his cheek approvingly.

“Grandpa, what’s taking so long with the—”

Derek turned to see a strikingly beautiful woman emerge from the nearest aisle, her dark hair twisted up into a bun. She had a clipboard in one hand and a gun at her hip, and the second her eyes caught his, Derek couldn’t breathe. It was a shivery rush of heat, a chill down his spine, a tether just behind his sternum latching on and pulling tight.

Everything his parents had always said finding his soulmate would be.

Shit.

—

Allison Argent. He had known the name for years, ever since he joined the Bureau’s organized crime division. She was Gerard’s granddaughter, Kate’s niece, and one of their family’s most notorious enforcers at just 28. She was a crack shot with a sniper rifle, unrivaled with a composite bow, and downright terrifying with throwing knives. The Argents’ enemies spoke of her with respect and fear in equal measure.

She was not the kind of person Derek would ever have expected to have as a soulmate.

Not that Derek had spent a lot of time imagining his potential soulmate. At 33, he had mostly given up on having one at all. Only a quarter of the population did, and most people who had one met them in their early twenties. For the universe to hit him with this a decade late and with a year-long undercover operation riding on his shoulders was a slap in the face.

So was finding Allison quality-checking the cocaine stock with a practiced eye, like she had done it a thousand times before. She probably had. Because she was a criminal. Derek had a criminal for a soulmate.

It didn’t make sense, and that wasn’t the only thing.

Derek waited to approach until the underling who had delivered the case disappeared, leaving Allison to load it up for distribution. She didn’t acknowledge him until he cleared his throat, at which she raised an imperious eyebrow.

“I know you felt it,” Derek said, eyes scanning the warehouse. Nobody was in earshot, but that didn’t stop him from keeping his voice down. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?”

Derek bit his tongue.

Allison didn’t wait for a response anyway. She stuffed the last kilo into a duffel bag and fixed Derek with a stare as sharp as any of her knives. In that moment, the resemblance to Kate was uncanny.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Derek.” She said his name like an insult. “I’m not here to settle down or make a connection. I’ve got a job to do, and so do you.” She shoved the bag into his arms. “So go do it. Unless you want to be the one to tell Kate about us.”

She fluttered her eyelashes in a parody of flirtation that disappeared in a blink. When he didn’t respond, she shouldered past him. The brush of her arm against his sent a jolt of warmth straight to his core, strong and immediate and overwhelmingly right in the worst possible way.

She didn’t slow down and she didn’t look back, and Derek was left alone with a duffle bag of cocaine and the sick knowledge that his soulmate was just like her aunt.

—

He didn’t see Allison again for a few weeks, which was fine by him. “Out of sight, out of mind” had never been his favorite way of handling his problems, but it wasn’t like there was anything he could do about this one. What he could do was his job.

His job sucked sometimes, though. Like when he had to drag some poor kid into a back room and drop him at Kate’s feet. He was just a low-level street-corner dealer, not someone who should ever have met the bosses at all, but he’d been skimming off the top. And that wasn’t something the Argents could let slide.

If bringing this kid in served to cement Derek’s loyalties in their eyes, then the Bureau considered the collateral damage worth it. Derek himself wasn’t so sure, especially with the familiar sadistic glint in Kate’s eye. It matched the glint of the blade she turned over and over in her fingers.

Derek didn’t let himself close his eyes. Both because his cover wouldn’t want to and because he deserved to witness the consequences of his own choices. Even when they made him sick. Especially when they made him sick.

“Are you done?”

Allison’s voice made Derek’s heart leap in his chest, a reflex that he couldn’t control. She leaned in the doorway, surveying the scene dispassionately. Her gaze didn’t linger hungrily on the blood like Kate’s did; Derek took some minuscule measure of comfort in that.

“He can’t get the message out if he’s dead,” she pointed out.

Kate looked like she’d bit into a lemon. “His death would be a message.”

Dark eyes found Derek’s, cool and assessing. His stomach churned, the scent of blood thick in his nose. Even with the pull of their bond between them, the instinct to look and look and never stop, Derek turned away first.

To Kate, Allison said, “Grandpa wants to see you.”

Kate tucked her knife away with a displeased huff but left without further objection.

Derek couldn’t help the way his shoulders slumped with relief. He looked up to find Allison watching him again, a furrow in her brow. “What?”

Her expression smoothed out again in an instant. “Nothing.” She nodded at the bloodied, whimpering boy. “Make sure he gets back to his corner in one piece.”

Derek gritted his teeth; irrational as it was, her dismissal stung. It wasn’t like he wanted her to care about him, she just...should have.

“I don’t take orders from you.”

Allison paused halfway out the door. “Then by all means,” she said, falsely sweet, “leave him here to bleed to death.”

She raised one eyebrow pointedly, daring him to do just that. Her narrowed eyes were sharp, though, waiting to see exactly what he would do.

Derek’s face flushed. He didn’t leave.

Allison did, and her gaze only lingered for a second.

—

The Argents knew they had a mole. Some hand-off had been compromised, two million in profits lost to a police raid, six underlings arrested.

They didn’t seem to suspect Derek. No one had sent him so much as a sidelong glance when the important players in the syndicate had gathered to discuss the issue. Maybe because his ploy with the dealer had done the trick in earning him their trust. Maybe because it had been one of his shipments that had been confiscated. Or maybe because he hadn’t known the location of the hand-off in question and therefore couldn’t have been the one to rat on them.

So the Argents knew they had a mole. What they didn’t know was that they apparently had two. Derek’s inquiries with his handler hadn’t proven her any more knowledgeable on the matter—Agent Morrell had cited the notorious lack of interdepartmental cooperation and warned him not to risk calling her outside their scheduled debriefs again unless he was made.

In the end, it didn’t matter. It just meant that Derek had to be more careful in maintaining his own cover. If that meant not stopping Kate from putting a bullet in a rival’s head, then so be it. That he turned away from the scene to find Allison watching him again, her face perfectly blank, was disconcerting, but he forced the feeling down. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t done the same herself. She had no room to judge, and Derek didn’t care if she did anyway.

He let Kate kiss him, hard and sloppy with how keyed up she was, and Allison was gone by the time they broke apart. It was Kate’s cherry-chapstick taste on his lips that made his stomach churn, he told himself, not Allison’s absence.

He might’ve believed it if his sternum hadn’t ached from the bond’s pull.

—

Getting shot at was never fun. Getting hit was worse, even when it was just a graze.

Derek hissed through his teeth as Chris dabbed at the wound with antiseptic. Kate had opted to take the news of the raid back to their father instead of doing it herself, which surprised no one; she wasn’t exactly the nurturing type, even with her boyfriend. She’d made sure he was going to live, sworn to kill the bastards, and left without a backward glance.

That was fine by him. He liked Chris more anyway. At least, as much as Derek could like anyone in this circumstance. Chris was quiet, level-headed, and reasonable. He never took unnecessary risks or did excessive damage. He didn’t revel in causing pain the way his sister did. And he didn’t try to make small talk, which would’ve been enough all on its own to win Derek’s favor.

More importantly, sometimes, Derek thought he saw regret on Chris’s face.

Like now, actually. Lips pursed, brow furrowed, movements precise and methodical as he wound gauze around Derek’s bicep. He was avoiding Derek’s eyes. Before Derek could ask why—or decide if he wanted to—the door flew open.

It was Allison, hair loose around her shoulders and more emotion on her face than Derek had yet seen. She said his name.

“Allison,” Chris said, something of a warning in it. “He’s fine.”

She blinked. Shook her head. “Right. No, I knew that, I just…” Her fingers found her own arm, carefully cupping the muscle.

Derek followed the motion with wide eyes. “You felt it.”

It wasn’t common for soulmates to share pain, but not unheard of. Derek’s parents had. A sign of a strong bond, supposedly. A perfect match.

Allison didn’t confirm it. She watched her father secure the dressing, and when he was finished, she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were going to be there, I—”

“Allison,” Chris said again, and her mouth snapped shut.

Derek looked between them, saw the careful glances they exchanged, the stiffness in both their spines. He forced a laugh. “What do you care?”

A flush painted Allison’s cheeks. Derek imagined he could almost hear her pulse pick up in tandem with his, fighting a strange thrill of satisfaction at seeing her affected.

“Just because I can’t—” She looked away. Her fingers, still clutching her arm, flexed. “It doesn’t mean I want you hurt.”

Warmth spread through Derek’s chest, syrup-sweet, like it had when they’d brushed shoulders. The urge to touch struck him now, his hands itching to reach out and trace the long, pale column of her neck. He reached for his shirt instead, shrugging it on gingerly.

“I’ve had worse,” he said, which was true. “Anyway, it comes with the job, right?”

He’d meant it jokingly, expecting wry agreement or maybe even a laugh from someone who’d been shot at a dozen times herself. He wasn’t expecting for her face to close off in an instant.

Her smile, when it came, was tight and cool. She said, “Right. Occupational hazard.”

Chris stood, dropping a hand on her shoulder. “We should go. Lot of ruffled feathers are going to need smoothing after this.”

With a reminder to Derek to change the dressing frequently, he led his daughter out. Derek didn’t watch them leave, but the shiver down his spine told him that Allison looked back.

—

It was happening. After 18 months of undercover work, they had enough to arrest all the key players. Morrell’s call had come in early that morning with the time and location for the raid and a warning not to get caught in the crossfire; no one expected the Argents to go down without a fight.

Derek had been dreaming of this day, the day the Argents would fall, for so long that it hardly seemed real. For years, he had kept himself going by imagining the look on Kate’s face as she was shoved in the back of a cop car, cuffs on and no hope of escape or acquittal.

But now, Derek couldn’t help but see another face.

Kate had been eyeing him all morning. Derek couldn’t blame her; he was jumpy and distracted. As the moment of truth ticked closer, his resolve weakened until, finally, it snapped. He left Kate and Gerard in the warehouse’s backroom with a muttered excuse and took off through the stacks of crates, giving in, for once, to the tug in his chest.

He found his goal when she came careening around the corner in front of him. Allison caught herself on his chest, her hands hot like brands against him, and her eyes were wide and wild.

“You need to get out of here!”

Derek blinked at her, those same words dying on his tongue. “What?”

“I don’t have time to explain,” she said. “I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but I couldn’t— I can’t let them—” She swallowed back tears, fingers digging into Derek’s chest like that would hold him in place. “You need to go,” she said again. “Before they get here.”

“Before who—?” The pieces came together in a rush of clarity that punched the breath out of him. “You’re the other mole.”

A moment of confusion, and then the same realization bloomed on Allison’s face. The smile that followed it was more beautiful than anything Derek had ever seen.

He didn’t have long to bask in it. The sound of gunfire picked up to the east, at the warehouse’s entrance. They didn’t have long.

“I can’t leave,” Derek said. “I have to get taken in with the rest, to maintain my cover.”

“Me too.”

Allison didn’t seem bothered by her impending arrest. Derek couldn’t blame her; everything felt rosy around the edges, his head swimming with relief. Allison had been working against her family the whole time, feeding information to the Bureau, interfering with raids and shipments, reining Kate in as much as she could without arousing suspicion. She had been playing the same dangerous game that he had. No wonder she’d worked so hard to keep him at a distance.

There was no distance between them now. Derek’s arms had found their way around her waist, holding her close against his chest, and the bond between them was thrumming.

“We should go,” Allison murmured, their faces close enough for their lips to brush. “Before someone finds us.”

The cacophony of artillery fire was closing in, shouts and pounding feet all around. Derek didn’t want to let go, but she was right. They had a mission to see through to its end.

With a monumental effort, he let Allison slip out of his arms.  “I’ll find you,” he said. “When it’s all over.”

As he turned to go, Allison took his hand.

“Derek. Your family… There’s something you should know—”

Before she could say it, before she could apologize for something that she had been too young to have any hand in, Derek pulled her in and kissed her. Her lips were soft and dry, no hint of cherry to turn his stomach, and they opened easily beneath his. It was a fierce rush of joy, the soft noise she made into his mouth, how she melted into his embrace and everything around them faded away into irrelevance.

Gunfire intruded, close enough for the crates nearest them to shift and shudder with it. Their time was up.

“Go,” Allison said, one more time. She pushed him back and pulled her gun, thumbing the safety off.

Derek pulled his own and grinned. His nerves thrummed with anticipation, ready for an end and craving a new beginning. “I don’t take orders from you, remember?”

He rounded the corner with Allison’s laugh in his ear, bright and sweet and golden.

[goodfish-bowl]

Operating Room Light

You can’t give me a prompt like “hospital” without expecting any angst. It’s a rule of nature. I was originally going to do something involving an AU, but I like this idea better, even if there’s less plot, but that opens the way for more angst. 

Jazz - Hospital

Summary: Danny waits outside of the operating room for hours after jazz gets severely injured in a ghost fight. 

Words: 1007

Ao3 link

Danny never hated hospitals more than this exact moment. He had read every single magazine present in the waiting area. He had been here for hours, the sting of antiseptics forever burned into his nostrils and his mind. So he stared, waiting less than patiently, at the light on above the operating room doors.

Jazz had gotten hurt… badly… severely… however he was supposed to categorize having several pieces of glass embedded through her chest, a severe concussion, and a broken leg. Danny had gotten hurt too, but he had already healed mostly up by the time he had managed to drive Jazz to the hospital, just in time too. Any later and she would have died of blood loss in the passenger seat of her own car. Danny’s own injuries didn’t and hadn’t mattered then, and they certainly didn’t now. He had just slapped a band-aid on the stab would he had received and iced over his new burns, then jumped into Jazz’s car and sped off to the hospital, his dad’s driving lessons being put to good use.

Speaking of their parents, they knew that Jaz was hospitalized, the staff had called them as soon as they could. They were severely worried, wondering how Jazz had ended up in the crosshairs of a ghost fight, injured so severely she would be in the operating room for hours as they removed glass and rubble, and reset her leg, and check for brain damage. Currently, they were off hunting the ghost that had injured their precious little girl, but they weren’t going to find it. The thermos was also empty of the culprit. They would most likely end up blaming Phantom, and he wouldn’t be the one to tell them otherwise.

In a way, Danny felt that it was his fault. He shouldn’t have let Jazz come. Her aim had gotten a lot better, and she was more skilled with some of their parent’s tech than he was, but she was ultimately human. She didn’t heal like he did, she couldn’t defend herself with anything but their parent’s weapons and her wit. Jazz was human and much easier to hit than he was, and it made him much easier to hit too when he had to protect her.

It had been a bad ghost fight, one of the worse ones, even. Danny hadn’t known the ghost, but they were clearly after him personally, targeting him on his patrol the prior night. Jazz had come along as backup since Sam and Tucker were busy with homework, planning to help Danny with his once they finished figuring it out and he was back from patrol. Then the ghost had attacked him, a bolt of heat sending him out of the sky and into the nearest building. Danny didn’t even bother to remember the ghost’s name, but they had attacked with fire, and they were angry and cocky.

“The notorious Phantom is a child?” They had seemed outraged, “Guess this will be a lot easier to take the title than I imagined.”

It wasn’t. Danny had put up a good fight, and it had frustrated the ghost into using dirty tactics. It had fired at Jazz when it couldn’t hit him. The windows and part of the wall had collapsed onto her, burying her underneath. She had passed out immediately, and Danny was glad she had in retrospect, but at the moment, he had thought she had died.

It didn’t go so well for the other ghost after that. After pulling Jazz out of the wreckage using intangibility, but smartly not removing any of the glass that had pierced through herm Danny had snapped. This ghost had the nerve to attack his sister, to threaten someone on his turf, to injure and almost kill Jazz. All Danny saw was red, the color of Jazz’s blood.

Danny had snapped, full-blown and completely, rage-filled and out for blood. But he hadn’t lost control, and Danny supposed that’s what scared him most. His head had stayed on his shoulders and he remembered the entire thing, from start to finish. Danny usually held back against all but the strongest opponents, adjusting how hard he fought to preserve both energy and keep his patrols efficient. He didn’t this time. There was about a block and a half off Delany Street that was reduced to rubble. It was a business district, so no one was injured or even there, which Danny was thankful for.

Danny remembered the fear, the ghost had realized its previous error. Phantom had gotten his reputation from somewhere, and his strength was vastly underestimated. Danny had never truly ended a ghost until then, until he charged up an ectoblast and shattered the damaged core in that ghost’s chest. He didn’t regret it either. He could’ve captured the ghost and left it in the thermos or turned it into Walker or one of the other facilities designed to hold dangerous ghosts. Danny could’ve gotten answers about why the ghost was after him, but he didn’t. He hadn’t wanted the ghost that had hurt Jazz to still be around, able to do it again, and possibly succeed in killing her next time.

The other ghosts that Danny dealt with daily didn’t usually injure bystanders, and focused solely on him, other than Spectra, but even then, she never outright used someone against him. Danny knew his obsession, and most of the other ghosts did too and knew it was damn stupid to use it against him. This one didn’t and paid for it, his afterlife ended with a well-placed ectoblast. Danny didn’t regret ending the ghost, and that bothered him more than the fact that he had “killed” someone. But Danny didn’t care enough about that to continue to ponder on how much of a freak or monster he was at the moment.

Danny just wanted his sister to be alright. So he sat there, as he had since late last night, watching the red light above the operating room continue to flicker and glow.

[kanrakixystix]

Uncommon Time -- Huntech

Back at it again with the spite posting. Can't believe it's been almost a week since I was "canceled." Wild fucking times we live in, my dudes.

Anyway, enjoy this adorable thing.

Prompt: Temple Kisses Rating: G

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30778700

-

Most days, Hunter likes to think that he has a bit of luck on his side. For one, he hadn’t been immediately discarded when it was discovered that he was a defected clone. That, in his humble opinion, is lucky in itself. To have been “born” with a desirable mutation, no matter how inconvenient it is most times, is also pretty lucky. It means that there is a much slimmer chance that he’ll be recalled for reconditioning or decommissioning unless he really messes up, and those instances are few. He has friends, brothers even, that he can depend on with his life scattered across the galaxy. He might not know all of them, but he knows that deep down, if faced with a choice to turn tail or save his brothers, he will save them every time, even if some of them don’t deserve it. He’s no God, and who lives and who dies, though he may try, is not a decision that he gets to make.

As such luck would have it, he has none of it today. The Chaos Marauder took a pretty big hit that, in Tech’s defense, was unavoidable, but that doesn’t mean that it took any less damage. Crashing it on the nearest planet is also not ideal, though he supposes that of all the ones in the system, this one is the least hostile, despite the strange electric currents that continually run through the air. Hunter is definitely not a fan of those. It makes his senses go haywire.

On top of that, the part that they need to fix it is way too many clicks away in the nearest point of civilization. According to Tech’s intel, the locals were friendly enough, but this is the Outer Rim. No one is quite as friendly as they seem. Thankfully, Echo has a way with words, and if things go wrong with the natives and their negotiations, Wrecker is there to be scary, and Crosshair...well, he’s just scary.

Which leaves Hunter to fix what they can with Tech, and that’s fine. Tech is usually the one to do upkeep and maintenance on the ship, and he’s meticulous about it, so Hunter knows that the Chaos Marauder is in the best hands. Yet, for as detail oriented as he is, there’s a lot to work on, and Hunter really could use an extra pair of hands right about now. This engine block isn’t going to fix itself, and the spare parts are on the ship in the galley. As it is, he’s pretty tied up and covered in grease that he’d rather not drag onto the ship.

Sighing, Hunter wipes a bead of sweat from his brow. He’s only now realized how drenched he is from sweat. His shirt is pretty damp, and his bandana is soaked to the point that it absolutely cannot hold any more fluid. Reaching up, he undoes the knot and uses it to clean his hands before tapping his communicator.

“Hey, Tech? I could use some help out here,” he says conversationally, knowing that Tech is likely running diagnostics on every little thing to ensure that the ship is in tip-top shape while they’re grounded.

After a few beats with no response, Hunter tries again.

“Tech, do you copy?” Still nothing. “Tech?”

After the third failed attempt to get Tech over the comm, Hunter growls and slides himself out from under the ship. He grimaces as the afternoon sun beats down on him, and scoffs when blocking the sun with his hand does nothing to ease how bright it’s shining in the lavender sky.

It doesn’t take him long to find the man in question. No sooner does he enter the ship does he see Tech in the cockpit, but when he opens his mouth to call out to him, he sees why there was no response, and he takes a moment to lean against the frame of the door and watch.

Tech is dressed in his blacks, but his helmet is securely over his head. It’s only because of Hunter’s heightened senses that he’s able to hear the music that’s playing in the headset, and he barely keeps from laughing out loud at Tech’s choice of upbeat techno. His foot is tapping to the beat, and his hips wiggle in the most adorable way as he dances around, looking at the analytics on his datapad.

After waiting an ample amount of time for Tech to see him, Hunter chuckles and paces over to him. Tech’s back is turned to him, and part of Hunter feels bad for what he’s about to do. The other part, however, feels no remorse when he knocks on Tech’s bucket and startles the life out of him.

“Hunter!”

As Tech scrambles to turn off the music and take off his helmet, Hunter chuckles and grins at him. Now that they’re eye to eye, he can’t miss the bright red tint of embarrassment that’s rising into his cheeks, or the big eyes that are mildly upset that he’s been caught.

“I’ve been trying to call you, but you seemed a little preoccupied,” Hunter tells him straightforwardly.

“S-Sorry,” Tech apologizes sheepishly and drums his hands on his helmet nervously. “I didn’t hear you over the music.”

Hunter shakes his head, grateful to have this moment with him, and he leans down to place a soft, chaste kiss to his temple. He can’t tell if doing so only winds Tech up more, or if it actually does help to calm him down a little. Either way, the blush on his cheeks is cute, and Hunter fights the urge to pinch them.

“How is she?” he asks in reference to his ship.

“Hm, the hit took out a small portion of our electrical and put a bit of damage on our shields, but we should have spare parts around to fix those,” Tech explains, immediately falling back into his usual self. “As for that radiator…”

“I know,” Hunter grumbles. “Been under her trying to clean it up when I noticed the engine block was damaged.”

Tech winces, but Hunter waves it off.

“It’ll be fine. I just need the parts box from the storage under the galley, and well, that’s where you were supposed to come in.” Hunter’s grin widens as Tech continues to get flustered.

“I said I was sorry,” Tech argues lamely.

“And I kissed you,” Hunter tosses back and winks before he steps away.

“What does that mean?” The question follows him, as does Tech, who is now vastly more interested in the notion of a temple kiss than his poppy techno.

“It means…” Hunter pauses and grabs the aforementioned parts box from the storage container, “that I think you’re cute and all is forgiven.”

There is definitely a blush on his cheeks now, and Hunter moves around him to head back down the ramp. “I could still use your help if you have a minute between dance routines.”

He doesn’t miss the way Tech bristles and walks after him again.

“Are you ever going to let me live this down?” He whines with an indignant pout that just makes him look even more precious, and Hunter wonders for a brief moment how he got so damn lucky with Tech.

“Absolutely not.”

[jessiebanethedragon]

Can we get a fic where the bad batch is on a mission and they find a SUPER shy 16 year old girl (the reader) who lost her parents in the war. The men take the reader with them and take care of her. But they don’t know that the reader has been trained in advanced martial arts her entire life and they find this out when the reader takes out a bunch of droids by herself. The bad batch take the reader in as their little sister in the end.

kinda long, i hope thats okay, and as always i really hope you enjoy it! 

You’re found underneath a mountain made of rumble, mud, water and ash. The Bad Batch takes hours moving debris for Wrecker to pull you out of a still smoking room that was once your family's apartment. 

Your people were an interesting folk, training their young in intense forms of defensive combat. You could speak more languages than you could count on your fingers, and years of being taught anything and everything, one could consider you to be a perfect soldier. Except for the fact that your people dedicated themselves to the natural wonders of the universe and were neutral in every notable war the republic had ever seen. 

The separatists did not see it that way. 

“What do we do with it?” Crosshair asked when they returned to the camp, you haven't said a word. And clone force 99 was starting to wonder if you even spoke basic. So far you had only moved when necessary and they only realized you were even human once the dust, mud and blood had been cleared from your face. 

“I think the ‘it’ is actually a ‘she’.” Tech corrects side-eyeing you from where you sit close to their fire. 

“What are we going to do with she?” Crosshair repeated, annoyed. But enjoying the mumbling from his brother about ‘grammatical insolence.’ Wrecker and Tech both shrugged as Hunter sighed and took a plate of rations over to you. 

“Hey, you need to eat.” He said pushing the plate towards you, watching as you watched the plate, but made no move towards it. 

“Can you tell me your name?” Hunter asked, trying his hardest to sound not like a hardened military sergeant. He sees your lips move but can barely make out the sound that travels past them. “Can you just be a bit louder maybe?” He asks for the first time ever, given his enhanced hearing. He catches your name as it wisps by him, repeating it to make sure he’s got it right.  

“Do you have anyone? Anyone off-world or that might still be…” He stops himself before the word ‘alive’. And you shake your head ‘no’ anyways. It’s only after Hunter gets up to leave that you slowly reach for the plate of food. 

“She has to come with us.” Hunter relays to the group, who are keeping their distance from the shy young girl they’ve found. Each member nods, none of them seem to know what to do with you, but they know you’re safest with the Bad Batch. 

It takes weeks before any of them hear your voice, your real voice. So far you’ve stuck to mumbles, nods and hand gestures. No one seems to mind, except for when you make Wrecker jump out of his skin when you seemingly appear out of nowhere. 

“Crosshair you di'kut!” Tech shouts one morning running into the main area of the Havoc Marauder. Everyone has to suppress a chuckle at the sound of Huttese coming from his helmet. “How in the kriff am I supposed to fix this?” Tech throws his hands in the air, slamming his bucket on the table. 

“Would you like me to fix it?” You offer from your corner of the ship. Stunning everyone into silence. “I am fluent in huttese.” You explain reaching for Tech's helmet, and matching holopad. No one says anything as you tap a few things and place it back down. 

“Thank you, mirdala.” Tech says in awe. Opting to compliment you in mando’a rather than basic as to not make you uncomfortable. 

“I also speak mando’a.” You add, looking at him with a smile. 

“Kandosii'la!” He exclaims happily, “nice to finally have some more brains around here.” Tech smiles at you while his brothers come over the shock of hearing your voice properly for the first time. 

After that morning things begin to shift a little bit. The batch takes to calling you mirdala as a nickname and constant compliment. (And to try and get you out of the sarlacc pit of shyness you live in.) And you slowly start to chat rather than just talk with the men you find yourself in the company of. Yet you still don’t talk about your home at all, eventually they stop asking. Until one day Hunter presses a small blaster into your hands while the five of you are standing on the ramp of the marauder. 

“Just a precaution, this place shouldn't be  dangerous. But I'd rather you have it and not need it then need it and not have it.” He tells you, and places a hand on your shoulder. “Know how to use it?” You nod, flipping it around in your hand, it’s foreign and familiar all at once. The click of the safety sounds a bit janky and the hilt is slightly off kilter. Hunter watches you inspect the blaster with the precision of a GAR clone. 

“Thank you.” You say to him, tucking it away, and following the group off the ramp and into the market. 

It takes all of one half of an hour for all hell to break loose. One battalion of droids verses one bad batch’s Wrecker didn’t exactly go well, the two of you attacked from behind unsuspectingly leading him into throwing you onto the nearest roof and going through the droids one by one. You hear the whir of commando droids before you see them and take off, launching yourself onto the next roof as blaster bolts rush by. Running through the second market that rests on the rooftops of the one below you dash between stalls, people and droids as you scramble away. One last jump into what you think is the side of a building but is actually air covered by a mass of cloth sends you into the  ground below winding you. 

“Mirdala!” Crosshair shouts in surprise as you seem to literally fall from the sky above him. This brief distraction allows for a droid to take a shot at him and you know he’s too preoccupied to save you. 

That's fine, you don’t need saying anyways. 

Falling into a fighting stance is so familiar to your muscles, you could close your eyes and you’d be back in your training centre. It feels so real you can almost smell it. Elbows and feet fly, echoes of advice ring in your ears. ‘Your elbows carry power, your feet are the most important weapons, stance is everything.” At this point the blaster is basically useless, you’re the weapon Hunter wished you didn’t need. And so when Crosshair barrels into you, throwing the two of you behind a crate as a detonator goes off, you both face plant into the ground. 

“You okay Mirdala?” Tech asks pulling you off the ground, dusting your shoulders off.  

“Where is everyone?” You ask worriedly looking around for everyone, once you see Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair near you, you begin to calm down. Wrecker comes over to you looking far too happy for a man who was just in battle. 

“That was amazing Mirdala! Shoulda seen ‘er Sarge!” He says nudging Hunter harshly. You can’t help but blush as Wrecker rentals how you flew from building to building. Letting Crosshair summarize your skills with ‘she fights well.’ (Before taking over and gushing about you again.)

You’re sitting outside as the sunsets, being alone is preferable right now. Today was, for lack of a better term, a lot. But of course, naturally, the Batch joins you. 

“You ever gunna open up to us mirdala?” Hunter bluntly asks, looking scared and worried. You nod but stop yourself, pushing the shyness for a verbal answer. 

“Yes, just not used to it.” it's a short answer, much shorter than it should be. But it’s a small win and Hunter is happy for it. 

“I researched your home world, were you going to tell us about your skills?” Tech asks, eyes meeting yours. 

“I thought it was normal.” You explain, looking around for others before sighing. “I’ve never been off-world before, not even outside of my city. This is very unusual for me.” You say trying to explain that your people keep to themselves even where they're around those they trust. 

“What else can you do?” Wrecker chimes in, curious as ever. But adds “never mind” when Crosshair elbows him. 

“You’re trained like us...” The sniper says, catching the curves of a small smile beginning when he says this. “Vod’ika.” He adds slowly, careful to watch your face to make sure he didn't upset you.

“Come out of your shell vod’ika, our shell most certainly has room for one more.” Hunter says, looking not at you but at the setting suns of the planet. 

“I always wanted a little sister!” Wrecker encourages with an excited hop. You turn to Tech waiting for his take on the situation. 

“Makes logical sense.” He teases, putting his helmet over your head. “Fits well, looks good vod’ika.” The helmet doesn't fit at all, flopping from side to side as you look around. 

“Sounds good to me ori'vod.” you say with a lopsided smile on your face. As the suns finally start to  turn into stars. 

“Aliit ori'shya tal'din” Hunter says, prompting his brother to repeat it after him. 

“Family is more than blood.” You translate to basic stunning at the touching words. 

“Come lil’ sister. It’s kriffing cold out here.” Crosshair says getting up off the ground, Wrecker immediately scrambles to piggyback you to the ship. The five of you teasing each other and laughing all the way.

[whirlybirbs]

                                          (   gif, again, by @barissoffee​ !    )

     —   STARJOCKEY & CO.   ;   2 of ?

summary: the bad batch gets a pilot, and they get a mission. acid rain happens. hunter & zip still don’t get along. no one is surprised. pairing: twi’lek!reader (zip nickname) x hunter word count: 3.2k a/n: pumping this out so i can write some hunter/reader content tonight to follow this character arc! we love some good ol’ action adventure acid rain! also, don’t try and neutralize acid with water, kids. that’s not how that works. but this is star wars, and it works here.

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It’s too early for this. 

Despite having a steaming thermos of caf in your hands, you still have to pull your eyes open wide and try not to sway on your feel as you remind yourself this debrief is important. Very important. 

Very early, but very important

Sleep, too, especially after the amount of hours you poured into repairs on the Havoc Marauder last night, is equally as important — but the debrief takes priority. For now. 

Maybe you can bribe D-M1 to pilot for a bit once you take off. Just so you can plant your head on the dash and doze for a minute. A loth-cat nap. 

Ugh -- a nap sounds good right about now. 

You take a long sip of caf and rub your face as Cody continues to speak, gesturing to the glowing blue holomap that casts a glow across the entire room.

Through the thick of the swirling mission debrief, Hunter is staring.

Well, more glaring, really.

(Can you blame him? His senses have been cranked to 12 since he was made, and still, he can’t ignore the smell of your morning beverage of choice. All he can smell is your caf and the elaborator creamer you’d put in it. It smells like cocoa and star-cherries and caf and it’s all Hunter can smell. It’s giving him a damn headache.)

You’re beginning to wonder if that’s all his stupid -- albeit handsome -- face does. The scowl there digs in deep, and you have to try your hardest not to roll your eyes as you take another sip of your caf. 

He’d walked in here, hauled the helmet off, and you’d realized Cody was right when he said they didn’t look like the other clones you knew. They were all different -- higher cheekbones on Crosshair and a sharper profile on Hunter. Tech was small and boggly-eyed, while Wrecker towered over everyone in the room with his round ol’ dome.

They were nothing like the others from the 212th. 

Your lekku twitch, swatting a bit, as your attention moves from challenging Hunter’s glare back to the debrief at hand. 

Hunter, as he pries his eyes away from your cock-hipped posture, wonders how  in hell a civvie like you managed to land this job. He’d much rather have a reg flying him and his brothers around than a ex-criminal and her junkyard droid.

... He heaves an inward sigh. 

Maybe he’s being a dick. 

Cody trusts you. Hunter can at least try... 

... Right?

Hunter diverts his attention back to Cody’s words, ignoring the unsettling idea of being civil with you. “What’s the status of Yanibar’s alliance?”

“None,” Cody drops a hand to his hip, resting it on his holster, “Neutral -- but it lays between the Outer Rim and Unknown Regions. The inhabitants tend to be those running from things like the war. But, I’m sure the Separatists will have their eye on the space ports for GAR officials. It’ll be basic recon. You fly in under the radar, scope out the manufacturing lab on Yanibar, and get out.”

Cody pauses, takes in the affirmative nods of the room, then continues:

“And lucky for all of you -- that ship in the hangar has no Republic tags. You’re gonna be a ghost.”

“No Republic tags?” Hunter asks, dark brow lifting. 

“We’ll be off the books -- Seps will think we’re probably just smugglers,” you shrug, explaining as Tech hums quietly at the realization, “Knowing them, they won’t wanna start anything with locals. Especially if they’re break neutrality laws and mining a planet in the grey zone.”

“Exactly.”

You cop a smirk Cody’s way. “Now I know why you kept that bucket of bolts.”

“Repo’s have their uses,” the Commander shirks, “And civvie pilots, too.”

Now this is all starting to make sense. They wanted you to play the part -- and with any luck, the boys in the back cargo hold will go unnoticed as you carry on on Yanibar. 

D-M1 pipes up from her spot below the holo-map. “Zip plays a wonderful smuggler. Four varying counts of weapons, drug and wildlife trade have made her --”

“Alright, alright,” we swat at the droid’s bobbing head, “I swear, who ever programmed you should be shot.”

The droid makes a sound akin to a laugh. Cody snorts.

Hunter ignores the distrust settling under his skin. 

“Everyone got the plan?” Cody asks, looking around the command center. When he’s met with silence, he nods to dismiss the Bad Batch and their new pilot, “Alright. Head out. Comm in if there’s any trouble.”

“You got it, Commander.”

“Hunter?” Cody calls, “Zip?”

You both linger in the doorway. 

“Play nice, yea?” he grins, “And good luck.”

--   ↯   --

You realize, six hours later, as you hang yourself out of the landing ramp mid-flight, trying desperately to get a hold on Crosshair who’s trying to get a hold on Hunter, that Cody jinxed you.

He most definitely jinxed you.

--   ↯   --

The mission had started just fine, after all -- the ride was fast, the travel checkpoints passed with no trouble, and you’d entered Yanibar’s airspace on a pretty mild day. No questions were asked when you dropped the Havoc Marauder down fifteen klicks outside of the nearest space port. The boys off-loaded and headed for the manufacturing plant. 

The landscape gave enough cover as if it. 

Large, sweeping stone outcroppings punctured the dunes and climbed high towards the sky, casting long jagged shadows in the golden sand. Creatures moved with the shade, relaxing along the cooling surfaces as the suns moved high in the sky. 

Parked in a ravine and hidden from sight, you’d spent the first two hours monitoring the location of the Batch; every half hour, Tech would radio in giving an update on their location. By hour four, they were close. By hour five, the line had gone silent.

And you were starting to get nervous. 

Their geo-coordinates marked them about 30 klicks East -- in the estimated area of the manufacturing lab they were slotted to recon. 

By hour five and a half, the sun was disappearing. Slowly, with clouds shrouding the sky, but... the spaces between the brown clouds were turning a muddied color. You leaned, squinting over the dashboard with a confused look, before moving to the back of the ship and punching open the landing ramp. 

When you stepped into the hot, mid-day heat, you realized exactly what was happening. You kicked yourself for not realizing sooner.

D-M1′s the one that made a panicked sound. 

“We’ve got a problem!”

You were fast, bounding up the ramp and skidding inside as you slam the lock for the door on your way to the cockpit -- in a flash, you’d started up the engine and flicked alive the comms.

“Boys,” you yelped, pulling the headset on over your lekku, “We’ve gotta get a move on, now.” 

Hunter, elbows deep in a dune with his eyes plastered to a pair of specs, cursed. Your voice crackled from his helmet, resting between him and Crosshair, and Hunter was almost inclined to ignore it.

But, the sniper tapped his wrist without looking from his scope and spoke. 

“Go ahead, Zip.”

“Acid rain storm,” you blurted out, leaning as D-M1 points at the meteorological gauge in her little hands in a panic. The radar swept across the map once and showed the brewing storms, “About five klicks South of me.”

You knew acid rain storms. The planet you’d grown up on had them enough -- and even Coruscant had them. But, the color of these clouds...

Your father always used to say, the dirtier the cloud, the quicker the shroud. 

Y’know, like death shrouds? 

“-- Shit.”

Hunter was hoping that feeling in his gut was nothing. He should have listened to it.

“She couldn’t a’ told us sooner?” Hunter gritted out, pushing up from his elbows in a flash. Not entirely fair, but damn. This was not going according to plan. First the patrol droids and now --

A deep bellow of thunder rolled in the distance, then.

And now this. 

Crosshair inhaled sharply and proceeded to silently snap the attached scope from his rifle in one swift, practiced move. He’s not gettin’ in the middle of this.

“Unless you boys wanna melt your pretty armor,” came your voice, crackling alive in Hunter’s helmet as he pulled it over his head, “I’d say we hurry this little play date up --”

And that’s the precise moment Wrecker snapped one of three patrol droids over his thigh, much to Tech’s despair, and sent the entire op down the shitter. 

You found the squadron, then, pinned in a rain of blaster-fire, trading shots with the handful of B1′s -- their shots lit up the kicked up sand from the winds, beginning to howl as the dark brown clouds to the South began to loom over the once sunny dunes. 

“Bring it down low, Deemi!” you hollered, throwing your headset as you moved to the back of the ship, “Get ready to go when they’re loaded on!”

“Got it!”

You punched the ramp, pulling your green tinted goggles down over the slop of your nose as the door opened. Taking a braced step out, you were fast to spy the boys as the Havoc Marauder began to lower itself slowly. 

Then, a blaster bolt skimmed your head -- it leaves a charred sizzzzle against the matte black paint job of the repo’d ship.

You leaned back, tugging your pistol from you hip and firing a quick volley back at the droid who’d aimed for your head. After three shots, you nailed the B1 unit down, and turned your attention back to the Bad Batch. 

You’re about to wave Deemi down, to tell her to plant the ramp on a rising dune then, when an entire squadron’s worth of battle droids lumbered from the back entrance of the manufacturing plant and began laying down fire on you and the ship. 

“SWING IT AROUND!” Hunter screamed, waving you off.

Deemi listened, and you fell back through the door as the ship pulls away fast from the oncoming fire. Your back hit the navicomputer’s paneling hard as the ship banked left, and your breath flew from your lungs as you did, gritting your teeth tightly at the impact. 

You scrambled, quickly, to watch from the open side-ramp as the entirety of the plant came into view. 

It’s huge. 

A main control tower rises high in the sky, above the three conveyor bays that spark through the small slitted windows three stories up. The walls are encroached by dunes, and the desert threatens to swallow it up. 

As Deemi banked wide, you planted your boot on the doorway as you watched the firefight disappear around the edge of the massive building. 

And that’s when it started to rain.

You hissed loudly then, immediately drawing a hand back when a fat droplet of brownish water hits your skin. Cursing as you swiped away the acidic liquid, you scowled at the welt it left behind. 

And if the from the drop in temperature was any indication, it was about to pour.

“Deemi,” you screamed, “I’m gonna need you to speed it up!” 

You were fast to stagger back from the doorway, moving to haul the bottom of your flight suit up -- the sleeves, tied neatly over your belt, are yanked onto your arms and over the black compression top. You zipped the collar up tight and moved to the storage built into the bunk atop the navi-console.

“Come on, come on,” you muttered, digging around. You knew you saw a poncho somewhere and -- “Aha!”

It’s not much, but it at least covered your lekku. If anything it will keep the sensitive skin of the head-tails safe enough for a few minutes. You hauled the black, weatherproof poncho over your head and ignore the musty smell coming from it -- just in time, too, as Deemi had propelled the engines into a kick for the banking maneuver and the Bad Batch was in sight again. 

The moment you and Deemi get in range, the skies opened up. 

It starts raining so hard you could hardly see -- and the headlamps of the boys illuminated the muddied downpour a few feet ahead of them. Deemi bought the ship down low enough that the ramp connects with the tip of a dune, and you staggered a bit on the impact.

The ship’s lights cast bright cones of light into the acid rain storm, and Tech is the first one through the doors. You curse, ignoring the tingling sting of the rain splashing on your face, and call out to the others. 

“GET ON!” 

Wrecker is next, passing you and launching himself through the doors with a curse -- the droids have seemed to back off, leaving the squadron to book it as the acidity begins to gnaw at their armor. You can hear a commotion behind you, and assume it’s Tech snagging the gallon of filtered water stored under the refresher sink to dowse himself and the heavy artillery man. 

Next is Crosshairs, who you reached out to as he planted a boot on the edge of the ramp -- without warning and rather suddenly, the ship gave a terrible moan. Then, unceremoniously, the dune the ramp had been perched upon tumbled downwards into a slip of mud.

The landscape was melting, and so was your poncho.

In a panic, you grabbed Crosshair’s vambrace and barely managed to snag the ramp’s guard rail; in a flash, Crosshair had Hunter’s hand secured in his own. Good thing, too, since the Sergeant’s boots now hung thirty feet in the air where the tip of the towering dune used to be. 

And that’s where you find yourself now.

Cursing, you strain to readjust your grip on the railing as rain runs down your chin. It stings like a bitch -- but you can’t help but think the pull of your arm is a little worse. 

You curse sharply in Ryl, and scream Wrecker’s name so harshly the trooper’s heart nearly stops. His helmeted head whips around.

“DON’T JUST STAND THERE!” 

Your knuckles, beneath the thick flight gloves have gone from a warm peach to a pale yellow -- the strain there is only relieved when Wrecker finally moves to the other side of the ramp and grabs Crosshair’s upper arm; together you both haul the two troopers up onto the ramp as Deemi’s banks backwards -- a few moments too late -- and sends a pile of acid rain soaked bodies tumbling back into the belly of the ship. 

The droid closes the ramp as she banks away from the manufacturing plant.

You don’t even have time to celebrate the sheer survival of the stunt -- you’re instead stripping off the poncho that’s now got Republic credit sized holes eaten into it. You whip off your goggles, and curse again -- your flight suit is starting to sizzle and the acid on your face hurts and --

Suddenly, you take a whole bucket of water to the face and it all stops.

Tech, standing there clutching the now empty bucket, looks rather sheepish. 

Your shoulders immediately sag in relief, and the troopers behind you are the next victims of Tech’s hose-down. Deemi, from the front of the ship, asks if she should drop into hyperspace and the entire cabin gives a dejected chorus of yes at the same time. 

You wipe the neutral water, running over your nose and chin, from your face as you sit down in one of the chairs by the navicomputer. 

Hunter drops his hands to his waist, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, and opens his mouth to speak.

You, instead, cut him off with a single raised finger and a pointed look.

“You,” you snap, “Don’t get to say a word to me until my face is not swollen and Tech can confirm I don’t have acid rain poisoning. Understood?”

Hunter just snaps his mouth shut. You have welts down your cheeks from where your goggles met your skin. Your lekku, too, don the same blistered orange marks. Guilt suddenly washes over him, only for a second. He’d gotten off easy. The acid rain had only eaten through the first layer of his composite armor.

The whole cabin, suddenly incredibly uncomfortable, decides to go their separate ways. Hunter, though, doesn’t move. Instead, he watches as you stand and inspect the now shredded flight suit that hangs off of you. You move across the cabin quickly, not bothering to avoid him. 

You slam your shoulder into his and keep moving.

--   ↯   --

You don’t have acid rain poisoning.

Which is good, you guess.

But, the residuals still hurt -- bad. 

You throw yourself into the far-too-small ship refresher for a rinse off -- Wrecker was nice enough to insist you get to go first (“For savin’ our skins an’ all, Zippy!”) and you can’t help but snort at Tech’s face when you emerge in a clean flight suit. He looks worried.

You’ve got welts all over your face. 

“I think it’s a cute look,” you jab playfully, leaning to inspect your reflection in the polished chrome door, “Don’t you, Tech?”

“Looks painful.”

Crosshairs laughs. 

The welts on your lekku are. You’d had to smother the startled yelps with your hand when the hot water made contact. You hope the boys hadn’t heard.

(Hunter certainly had, and he wasn’t even in the lower level of the ship. He was up top, ignoring the dull ache in his arm and pretending he didn’t need to rinse off. It had sparked a little worry in him, though, and he’d casually muscled his helmet on to do some digging on the holo-net about potential complications from injured lekku. The results were... not ideal.)

You massage the point on the back of your neck where your headwrap normally clasps together, keeping the animated little appendages under control and out of the way. You’ve forgone it now, and Crosshair watches as you sigh quietly as you rub the tension point. 

You look different without it. A bit softer.

“It doesn’t feel great, but,” you shrug, shoulders a bit more relaxed than before, “I’ll be fine. Definitely the worst acid bath I’ve had in a while.”

“You’ve been caught in those storms before?” Tech asks, surprised. He’s placing his helmet down, stripping his armor as he speaks. 

“I grew up in the South Tann Province,” you explain, “The jetstreams would carry polluted air through during the summer months, and sometimes the rain would be bad -- tarkona taka, my dad used to call it. But, that, back on Yanibar? That was worse than anything I’d ever experienced when I was a little girl.”

“Tarkona taka,” Tech sounds out, “What does it mean?”

“Brown weather -- or, storm, actually,” you grin, “Tak is brown, and tarkona is storm.”

“Yeah, well,” Wrecker supplies, muscling around through the barely stocked fridge in the far corners of the meager living quarters. Behind the microscopic kitchenette lay a hall of four bunks. Wrecker closes the door looking dejected, “I can’t wait to be back on Coruscant. No brown rain there.”

“On the lower levels there is!” you call out, spurring Wrecker’s shoulders to sag.

You move towards the ladder, planting a boot on the bottom rung when Crosshair’s calls out.

“Careful, Zip.”

“He still pissy?” you ask, loud enough that you know Hunter can hear, “Shame.”

The three members of the Bad Batch snort quietly as you move up the ladder anyway.

They like you.

And Hunter, still, doesn’t. 

[tanyawritesstories]

Seeing Red | The Bad Batch x Reader

I told myself I could never write for the Bad Batch because I wasn't a huge fan of them (except Tech because he's babie) but I got inspired by @clonesandmoans post about how they would react to a reader on her period. Creativity struck! Hence this fic.

I would like to thank @vesperstalksclones for informing me on how birth control works because I'm 20 and still don't know how to adult. Anyway enjoy!

Warnings: Blood, mood swings, cravings, concerned bois, and plenty of fluff!

•••

You hummed whatever tune came into your head as you cleaned up around the Havoc Marauder. The boys were out on a mission and had claimed they didn’t need your help and you could just stay with the ship if you wished. You took them up on the offer and had spent the past several hours that they were gone doing any and every little thing you could to stave off boredom. Luckily, there was a whole list of things to do. You had already dusted the entire interior of the ship, cleaned every control panel, updated half the systems with their newest settings, polished up your own tools and weapons, and was now scrubbing oil stains off the hull. 

You decided on listening to music instead of trying to come up with a melody yourself. You turned the radio on inside the ship and turned it loud enough so you could hear it outside. It was a pleasant planet you had landed on, green grass as far as the eye could see, lots of hills but a limited amount of trees. There hadn’t been a speck of bad weather since you landed, yesterday morning. It was all blue skies and sun with the occasional cloud passing by. It was peaceful on this plateau and there had been no signs of danger so you thought it was ok to let your guard down for a little.

Another hour had passed and you were still giving the exterior of the ship a thorough cleaning. You were so into your work that you let out a scream when you felt a finger jab you in the side. 

“Oh my stars! You asshole!” You turned and threw your sponge at the origin of your teasing. Crosshair easily batted away the sponge before it even got close to hitting him. He was sporting a cocky smirk and his precious sniper rifle slung over one shoulder.

"Never let your guard down, Y/N," he said, his tone as cocky as his expression. You rolled your eyes and retrieved the sponge, glaring in only slight annoyance as he walked onboard the ship. Wrecker trudged aboard after him and you called a warning that you just cleaned everything. Hunter and Tech gave you polite smirks as they followed suit.

You made dinner while the boys finished their reports and other post-mission duties. You had started a fire and was stirring a pot of stew over the open flames. You tasted it a final time before shouting out to the boys that dinner was ready. As usual they came barreling out of the ship to gather around the fire. Wrecker was the first to dig in, as always, the other three waiting for you to hand them their respective bowls.

“This is so good! I don’t know how you do it, Y/N but you always make the best food,” Wrecker praised.

“Thank you, Wrecker. I appreciate it,” you said with a smile.

Hunter stood next to you, waiting for you to hand him his food when he noticed something was off about you. You smelled different. It wasn’t anything creepy, with his heightened senses he knew how you always smelled, usually it was lavender and honeysuckle. But this scent was far from that, your pheromones were strange and he swore he could almost smell blood. It wasn’t something he’d ever smelled before. He stared at you trying to figure it out.

“Hunter, you ok?” You asked. He was staring at you with a confused and worried look on his face. “Yeah, yeah I think so,” he replied. You handed him his bowl and he silently went to sit down. You found it odd but didn’t mention it as you sat and ate your own food with them.

The next day the boys were going out on a short scouting mission, leaving you behind as usual. You did a few chores and decided to take a nap, retreating to your bunk and laying on top of the covers.

It was a few hours before they came back, discussing their observations as they made their way on board. The second he entered the ship the stench of blood hit Hunter like a punch in the nose, causing him to cough. The others looked at him.

“There’s a lot of blood spilled somewhere in here,” he voiced. The four of them looked between each other.

“Where’s Y/N?”

They all hurried to your quarters, the door sliding open, revealing a horrific sight. You laid peacefully on your bunk, sound asleep, unaware that you were laying in a large pool of blood.

The four men observed the scene before them and it was Wrecker that broke the silence. “Is she dead?”

“No,” Hunter answered, he could hear your heartbeat. He kneeled by the side of your bed trying to find an injury. “She’s asleep, but why is she bleeding?” Tech joined Hunter at your bedside trying to deduce what was wrong. “Who hurt her?” Crosshair asked, he looked angry. “I’m not so certain anyone did,” Tech stated. “Then how is she bleeding if she’s not injured?” Wrecker asked, clearly concerned. 

Their chatter stirred you from your slumber and you opened your eyes, rubbing the sleep away from them. “What’s going on guys?” You opened your eyes fully to find all four of them staring at you with mixed expressions, concern, confusion, and sympathy. “What’s wrong?” you asked, also confused.

“You tell us,” Crosshair spoke first, “What happened here? Who attacked you?” Your eyebrows scrunched up. “No one attacked me. I'm completely fine,” you answered. “Then how come you’re bleeding?” Hunter prodded. “I’m not bleed-“ you cut yourself off as you realized what might be happening. You quickly sat up and saw that your suspicions were true, your period had come while you were sleeping and you were covered in blood. You put your head in your hands and groaned.

You had hoped this wouldn’t happen. You had been on birth control shots ever since you joined the Bad Batch ten months ago. You normally would be on Coruscant between missions which allowed you to get your shots on time. However this mission was taking longer than normal and your shot was overdue. What’s worse was now you had four worried and confused men to explain the whole thing to.

“I’m fine, this is normal,” you sighed, still holding your head in your hands. “How is this normal?” You heard Crosshair ask, someone shushing him seconds after. “My-ugh, I got my period,” you finally said. You didn’t want to look at them and instead just listened to the silence as they tried to understand what you had said. You really didn’t want to explain it to them, what you wanted was to change out of your bloody clothes.

“Look it up on the holonet, I’m going to change. I’ll clean the sheets when I get back.” You got up and gathered some clean clothes and headed to the refresher. You were lucky that you had an emergency stash of pads just in case something like this happened. You cleaned yourself of blood and put on clean, comfy clothes, throwing your bloodstained clothes and the sheets in a bucket of water to soak. You exited your quarters to find Tech reading aloud off the holonet about how periods work. It made you chuckle and warmed your heart that they cared about you enough to enlighten themselves on your condition. Tech finished reading and they all seemed to notice your presence at the same time.

“So you just bleed every month?” Crosshair again. You nodded. “How come this is the first time it’s happened?” Hunter questioned. “I was being given shots to prevent it but we haven't been on Coruscant for me to get them,” you explained. You saw the gears in their minds working as they processed the information.

"Is it painful?" Wrecker asked.

"Yes, it isn't at the moment but it will be. Sometimes it can get excruciating and sometimes it's just a few sharp pains," you explained. You were glad that at least they were accepting, they didn't seem weirded out and just acted like they wanted to help.

You continued your chores until the cramps kicked in, and they were bad. Hunter decided they would make dinner since you weren't feeling good. You gave them a list and sent them to the nearest market, Tech stayed behind to keep you company and get you anything you might need. He had already gotten you painkillers, the strongest they had but the pain persisted.

You groaned in pain and rolled over, curling yourself into a fetal position on your bed, which Tech had generously put new sheets on. You clutched your abdomen, "Tech!" You heard footsteps rapidly approaching your door before it slid open.

"Do you need something, Y/N?" He asked.

"Do we have a heating pad, that would really help."

"I'll go look," he smiled and hurried away. You could hear him looking through storage containers and cabinets, a few things could be heard falling on the floor. He reappeared at your door with a heating pad in his hands. “Found it.” He sat on the bed and set it up for you, making sure it heated up to a comfortable temperature. 

“Is that helping?” He asked sweetly. You hummed appreciatively, “yes, thank you so much, Tech. You’re the best.”

“You say that to all of us,” he said. You giggled, you were feeling more comfortable, but lonely, you wanted cuddles. You wrapped your arms around Tech’s middle and pulled him down to lay beside you, facing each other. He made a few confused noises and asked what you were doing.

“I want cuddles,” You said, hugging him close to you. He sighed, slightly uncomfortable with the situation. “Alright, but only because it’s you." He wormed his arms around your back and gently pulled you close to him, beginning to massage your back. Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker came back to find you and Tech asleep in each other’s arms.

~~

A couple days had passed and your cramps had subsided enough to do your normal work but there were all the other classic period care package items you had to deal with. At the moment you were craving the food Wrecker went out to grab. You had been wanting it all day and literally jumped for joy when Wrecker said he'd be happy to get some for you.

You were sitting in your bed reading when you heard Wrecker come back. He talked with the rest of the boys, giving them their meals before coming to your room, holding two plates of food in his hands. “Can I sit and eat with you?” He asked, smiling. You closed your book and set it aside. “Of course, Wrecker. Thank you so much for getting me this, I’ve been craving it all day.”

He plopped down next to you and handed you the plate, your mouth watering just looking at it. You hastily shoved forkfuls into your mouth, getting overwhelmed with how good it was. You’d wanted this all day and Wrecker was nice enough to go out and get it for you, especially for you, it was so sweet of him. Your thoughts along with the food were just making you happy, so much so that you started happy crying right then and there. Poor Wrecker didn’t know that you were crying happily and immediately got concerned as tears poured down your face.

“Y/N are you ok? What’s wrong?”

At the sound of your sobbing Hunter, Cross, and Tech came running to your room, finding you bawling and Wrecker sitting next to you. “What did you say to her?” Crosshair half shouted. He sat down on the other side of you and pulled your sobbing form tight to him, protectively putting his arms around you. “I didn’t say anything,” Wrecker replied, confused. “Yeah right,” Cross rolled his eyes at his brother, “She’s in tears, what did you do!”

You had noticed the boys attitudes change a little since you started bleeding, Wrecker was more sweet and gentle around you, Tech was more nit picky, Cross was more protective, and Hunter was more observant.

Hunter and Tech were just as confused as they watched Crosshair and Wrecker argue. Tech stepped in and also tried comforting you, who at this point was crying laughing at the situation but they still couldn’t discern that. Hunter asked Wrecker what happened and you finally managed to stop crying. Crosshair still had his arms around you holding you to his chest tight but not crushing you.

“Cross, you can let me go,” You managed to say. “Not until I know you’re ok.” You sighed, “I am ok, I just got excited and happy, that’s all.” He released you enough to look down at your face. “You were crying because you were happy?” He struggled to understand. “Yes, my hormones are going nuts right now, and it was just so sweet of Wrecker to bring me food,” you explained more tears slipping out of your eyes. Tech smiled sympathetically and Wrecker looked relieved. “I don’t get this,” Cross breathed. “Neither do I,” you agreed, hugging him back.

[37-children-of-the-dreams]

Chapter #34: Bad (Blood) Batch

Crosshair got to meet Bo-Katan and now it's Korkie's turn to meet the Bad Batch. Also, IDK on how to strikethrough a title text. Sorry.

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

The next planet looked dense and populated. It wasn't dense like Corusant, but it was populated enough that they know there were bounties abound. The wait time for a hangar wasn't as bad as the last one. It gave enough time for Korkie to work his Force visions and they had an adequate hangar to stay at.

When Korkie got up from the visions, Crosshair and Fennec were checking their weapons. Crosshair saw the rifle might need a new scope and knew they do not have another scope around.

"There's a huge bounty here," Korkie said as they kept checking. "It's locally known and the prizes they say are big."

"How big are we talking?" Fennec asked. She checked enough that her rifle was ready to end a small battalion.

"Big enough to buy an entire army."

"We don't need an army," Crosshair said. "But I would like a few upgrades."

"We should have taken some of the rifles from the basement," Korkie lamented.

"No. I'm not making your former aunt go insane and try to annihilate us because we took some of your ancestors' weapons."

"Well, they were still his," Fennec pointed out. "I mean, he had the rights to take them before Bo-Katan kicked him out."

Crosshair rolled his eyes as he went to open the ship's entrance. He would have liked some of the blasters Korkie showed him during their practice, but he felt the eyes of a thousand Kryzes judging him for possibly firing their blasters wrong. He looked at the picture of Korkie's late grandfather during the practice and thought Adonai Kryze's spirit was shaking his head thinking that his only grandchild would marry what might be an adequate sniper on his deceased mind.

Korkie went to his side and walked out the hangar with him. Fennec was still behind them. She was starting to prefer being behind of her two teachers because in her point of view, they always start the best drama and she had backstage passes for life. Korkie was pointing out the best cantinas and bar to find other bounties if there were too many bounty hunters going after the same bounty. Crosshair was not budging on bailing about the best prize.

"Then that one," Korkie said.

He pointed at the most rundown cantina they had ever seen. And they've been on Tatooine. The cantina at Mos Eisley was still presentable compared to this. There were no windows, the doors were broken, and there were a ton of drunkards hovering.

Crosshair said nothing as they entered the cantina. Suddenly, it was all eyes on them. Fennec smirked at the sight because they were dressed like everyone else. Well, Korkie had brought his family sword, but it was not enough to set off a bar fight. Maybe it was Crosshair? He was wearing his armor to cantina, but he did add Kryze blue to it when Korkie was asleep to look more like a Mandalorian and not a clone trooper.

Korkie was the one who found the manager of the cantina. He asked about the bounty and got a shrug. Korkie backed off and Crosshair got to the manager's neck. The poor manager was scared to see Korkie whisper something in Crosshair's ear.

"Okay!" he screamed.

He took out a fob and threw it to them. Korkie caught it and \waved it to Fennec who laughed at the antics. She knew they weren't really saying anything threatening to the manager. She was beginning to pick up some Mando'a and she knew Korkie was actually talking about making a good dinner for them.

Crosshair dropped the manager as his fiancee and apprentice walked away with the fob. The rest of the cantina got out of their way. They saw the 360 Korkie did and were not wanting to fight someone who might just smile at their deaths.

"So," Korkie said as they walked around the city. "What do we want for dinner?

"Korkie," Fennec sighed. "Please stop being a mother porg. You make the best dinners."

"No," Crosshair countered. "Please act like a mother porg. You need practice when we might have Sarad."

Korkie scoffed. Ever since the two talked about having a daughter, Crosshair agreed that Sarad was a beautiful name for a young girl. He also wanted their future daughter to be a sniper like him because it might be safer for her to not be connected with the Force. Korkie was sadden by his opinion, but he did agree. Even if Sarad wasn't a Force Seer like Korkie, the Empire was never going to let another Force user live. He rather have a normal child than put one in danger because of who they were to the Force.

"Please stop talking about your future child," Fennec said. "You're not even married yet!"

"Well, Fennec," Korkie said. "It's better to talk about a family now because then we don't have to worry about whether or not your having a niece."

Fennec gave up. She was young herself, but why do Mandalorian have to talk about marriage and family when they're so young? Was it because of the constant state of fighting for their lives, or was it because they're open about having a huge family.

The three were walking about when they stall another set of food stall. Fennec's stomach betrayed her and growled. Korkie and Crosshair looked at her like they were becoming her new set of parents.

"I may be a bit hungry," Fennec admitted. "But we should have food at the ship."

"It's an hour away," Korkie said. "Come on Fennec. Let's have some snacks."

Korkie led Fennec over to the stalls. Fennec was not a picky person, but the options were so numerous and she didn't want to buy too much food. Yet, they smelt so good. Korkie told her they had enough money to provide her a small feast. So Fennec started picking all the ones that smelled divine.

Crosshair smiled as they picked snacks by the smell. It reminded him how Hunter always knew what they should get from the stalls during their missions. Wrecker was never picky himself, but he also didn't want to break the budget. Tech was always to busy reading up on the snacks. So it was between Hunter and Crosshair to give them the cheapest and best snacks. When Echo entered the Bad Batch, it became a three person duty to provide the snacks.

Crosshair was beginning to beg whatever god or deity that controlled life that he'd be with his brothers once again. He knew he ran away from them because he was mad at Hunter, but Crosshair wasn't fair to the rest of his brothers. He was always Tech's older vod even if he never said it out loud. Wrecker and him did butt heads, but they always had each other's backs. Even Echo grew on him. Which was a surprise because he thought he'd always hate regs, but there were some who actually made him feel normal.

Crosshair walked to them, but stopped. He looked beyond Fennec and Korkie's eye spots and saw Echo. Crosshair wanted to punch a deity now because it felt way to coincidental to just see one of the Bad Batch here when he wished for it. The Echo lookalike looked at his direction and gasped. Then he left.

Crosshair ran after him and left Korkie and Fennec bewildered by the action. Korkie had the fob and he was sure they weren't near a target. Fennec grabbed Korkie and the two ran after Crosshair.

"Echo!" Crosshair cried.

Yet, no one looked up. The place was too busy, and with too many people. Korkie got to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"What was that?" Korkie gasped.

"I thought I saw Echo," Crosshair said.

"Well, if they're here, then we'll find them."

"If they're here, then we could look at the hangars near by."

"You know there's a ton go hangar here, right?" Fennec asked.

"I'm not running again from them. I need to apologize."

Fennec looked at Korkie and smiled to the former duke's confusion. He was a good influence to Crosshair because to Fennec, he got to know the huge difference between their families. Korkie was born to a family who hated Jedis and want nothing with members who would be Jedis. Crosshair had his brother who never cared about his defects and saw him as their brother.

And Crosshair wants his brothers back.

"Then, let's walk," Korkie said.

They left the place and walked to the nearest hangar. It didn't take long for them to see a hangar station. Suddenly, a bunch of people got in front of them. The leader was laughing at the three.

"I heard you have the last fob," the leader said.

"We do," Crosshair answered. "But you're not taking it."

"I will."

"And why?" Fennec asked. "I've known a ton of mercenaries, but you're not even important for me to remember."

The leader lost it and attacked them. Korkie took out his sword as Fennec and Crosshair opened fire at the gang. There must have been almost thirty people. Many of them didn't look like they belong to just one group, they were just attacking Korkie, Crosshair and Fennec for the fob. They must have come late because they didn't see them at the rundown cantina.

Korkie was slashing down and slitting throats left and right to protect the fob. Fennec shot down any that came behind Korkie as Crosshair aimed at the leader who was fleeing the scene. They were backed to a corner and the gang was still coming at them.

Then, all kriffing hell broke lose. Wrecker jumped from above them and a vibro-knife from Hunter was launched at a face. Crosshair laughed at the sight of his brothers. He wasn't going insane, a deity really did listen to his wish. Tech and Echo were in front of the gang and launched a flash grenade went off. The Bad Batch, Korkie, and Fennec closed their eyes.

"Get them out of here, Crosshair," Hunter ordered. "We'll cover for you."

"Sorry, but no," Crosshair said. "Korkie's clingy."

"And what about Fennec?" Wrecker asked.

"I have a rifle if you forgot," Fennec said.

Hunter groaned as they attacked the gang. By the time the last man ran away they were done. Hunter looked at Crosshair and took out his hand.

"I know how much you hate hugging," Hunter said. "So this is my best 'I'm sorry for making you run away' shake."

Crosshair smiled and surprised Hunter. He did hug his older vod to the shock of the entire Bad Batch and his companions.

"And I apologize for being the worst brother you have," Crosshair said as he let go. "I know I had all the right to leave, but it still wasn't right to leave my other brothers."

"Who are you?" Wrecker asked. "Where's the real Crosshair?"

"I can scan!" Tech said.

"Please don't scan and I have a reason for changing," Crosshair said.

He presented Fennec and Korkie.

"Duke Korkie?" Echo said.

"You know me?" Korkie asked.

"Well, I used to work with Commander Cody. He met Duchess Satine before. I'm sorry for your lost."

"It's fine. Also, I'm not a duke anymore."

The Bad Batch looked at Crosshair who smirked.

"Any chance you have some food?" Crosshair asked. "Korkie can cook. Real good."

"No?" Hunter said. "You know what we always had to eat."

"Then dinner's on me."

The Bad Batch didn't understand what was going on, but they followed the trio. Then they got the memo once Crosshair took Korkie's hand when they got to the hangar.

"Um, Fennec," Tech whispered. "I know we're not close, but are those two?"

"Yes," Fennec answered.

Wrecker dropped his mouth as Crosshair opened the door and let Korkie kiss him on the cheek. The former duke went to work as the Bad Batch waited outside with Fennec bringing in seats. Well, Korkie's storage boxes, but it's what they had.

"When?" Wrecker asked. "And how?"

"Did you ever heard about a Mandalorian bounty?" Crosshair asked.

"No," Echo said. "You did not."

"Oh I did."

"You fell for a bounty?" Hunter screamed.

"And royalty at best?" Tech asked.

"He was very persuasive," Crosshair laughed. "He became the best thing in my life after everything that happened between us."

"So why is he not royalty anymore?" Echo asked. "I mean, Duchess Satine may have died, but Korkie is her heir."

"Well, he got kicked out of House Kryze."

"HOW?" They all screamed.

"Well I'm marrying him," Korkie replied.

He had dinner ready. A huge pot of soup and some meat. He placed them in the center of the Bad Batch and Fennec gave them a dish plate.

"You've got to kidding us," Wrecker said. "HIM? CROSSHAIR?"

"Yes, brother-in-law," Korkie smiled. "Though, it's more like he's marrying me. My side of the family is drama upon drama."

"And ours is not?" Hunter asked.

"Well, you've only worked with the Jedi. I'm the secret son of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Duchess Satine Kryze."

Korkie has never been asked so many questions in rapid fire response before. But, he's not mad. They were his future-in-laws.

[habibialkaysani]

Touch (Laurel/Nyssa; T) - earth-44

Ships: Laurel/Nyssa

Summary: Laurel and Nyssa. Dinah and Amina. Green Arrow and the Black Canary. Daredevil and the Black Sky. The Flash and Vibe.

Across the multiverse, they go by many names, surrounded by different people at different times in their lives. But there is one golden link between the Dinah Laurel Lances and Nyssa Raatkos across the infinite earths - that they always find each other. And every time, their story starts with a single touch.

A/N: As I recently watched The Old Guard, I was inspired by the dynamic between Joe and Nicky and immediately dreamed up (as I so often do) a Lauryssa AU for those characters. So here is a little bit of it - and then there will be an expansion of that story as a separate fic, to come sometime soon I hope as it’s half-finished.

Read at AO3

Earth-44

(In which Laurel and Nyssa are immortals who have been together for a thousand years fighting righteous battles side by side as part of an army, a la Nicolo di Genova and Yusuf al-Kaysani in The Old Guard.)

The chains cut coldly on Laurel's wrists, drawing blood, but she barely noticed as she continued to struggle against them. She had eyes only for Nyssa. Even after an eternity of witnessing the love of her life die and come back, Laurel could not bear to even contemplate a world without Nyssa in it. 

There were questions, vague and half-formed in her mind, about why they were taken, where the others were, particularly their newest recruit, Sarah Diggle, for whom Laurel and Nyssa already felt responsible. 

Laurel wanted to know who these soldiers around them were, where they were going - and, of course, the age-old question about whether they had finally been caught, and if they would be put in a cage as a lab experiment. 

But at the forefront of Laurel's thoughts was what lay before her, and that was her beloved, her partner, and her soulmate. Nyssa was sprawled on her front, having been shot when attempting to escape her restraints, and even now as Laurel's eyes moved down further, she winced at the sight of Nyssa’s lifeless body.

This was always the worst part. While Laurel and Nyssa were hardly strangers to immortality and its secrets, no amount of dying could make Laurel used to the agonising seconds and minutes before Nyssa finally gasped back to life. And the hard truth was that despite Nyssa's words that she would always come back, they both knew this was impossible to predict. Their immortality would run out one day, and every time they got caught in the crosshairs of another enemy, Laurel wondered if today was it. 

"Nyssa," she whispered, feeling a surge of anger not at the tears that stung in her eyes but that one of the soldiers - a square-jawed blond man - was eyeing her closely. "Nyssa, habibti - wake up." 

But Nyssa was still motionless in the armoured van. The soldiers had shot her squarely in the back, but that had been minutes ago, surely. She should have awakened by now. Unless… 

"Ya Nyssa!" Laurel cried, louder this time, and the blond soldier grabbed her by the shoulders roughly. 

"Oi. Shut up!" 

Laurel just ignored him, reaching out despite her restraints to touch Nyssa's cheek. "Nyssa, please. It's me, habibti. Wake up!" 

"I just told you to shut the fuck up!" the soldier barked. 

"Or what?" Laurel shot back. "You can kill me too if you want. I’ll just come back, and make no mistake - I'll be angrier." The guard spluttered at that, unable to form anything coherent in reply, and Laurel went back to shaking Nyssa in an effort to rouse her. "Come back to me, my love. Please." For good measure, Laurel blessed herself and said a silent prayer, and somehow, miraculously, someone upstairs seemed to have heard her, because Nyssa then started coughing.

Automatically Laurel looked up at the heavens above - obscured, of course, by the armoured ceiling of the van, which should have made it less poetic - and thanked every deity she could name in her head. There was blood in Nyssa's hair as Laurel stroked it tenderly, leaning forward so her forehead touched the crown of her beloved. 

"Are you okay?" Laurel asked softly in Arabic. 

"I think so," Nyssa replied, also in Arabic, before switching loudly to English. "Very pissed off, though."

"As am I," Laurel said, glowering at the blond soldier. She softened, though, in an instant when Nyssa squeezed Laurel’s hand.  "I'm just glad I didn't lose you. They shot you." 

"You will never lose me, hayati. And I'm fine." Nyssa groaned in pain as she lifted her shirt and the two bullets that had temporarily stymied Nyssa popped out and rolled onto the floor. Laurel could see the exit wound knitting, just under Nyssa's ribcage, and she winced. As she did so, though, she could sense the blond soldier's leer before she saw it. 

"Aw, are you two together or something? Is she your girlfriend?" 

Nyssa just rolled her eyes, letting out a faint sigh of fatigue and exasperation as another soldier then joined in. They knew what was going to come next - Laurel and Nyssa had been together for over a thousand years, but one thing that had worsened, rather than gotten better, was the way the world saw them. 

"Feel free to make out in front of us. Always found that hot." 

"To call you childish would be an insult - " Laurel snapped, "- to children, that is. You speak like prepubescent boys guided by nothing but the pathetic newfound stirring of your loins. You could not even begin to fathom with your simple mind the depths of love I have for this woman. You lack the maturity to understand how her very breath awakens my faith and her smile strengthens my soul, that even after centuries together I fall in love with her more every single day. She is not my girlfriend, little boy. She is my moral compass, my north star, my guiding light when I am lost."

"And your wife," Nyssa added helpfully and Laurel almost forgot her anger for a moment as she automatically smiled. Nyssa had a way of doing that, of tempering the storm of emotions raging in Laurel's head at the best of times. 

“Yes,” Laurel said. “And she is my wife.”

Slowly, the soldier crouched down so his face was uncomfortably close to Laurel’s. “So you’ve joined the twenty-first century. Congratulations. Why the fuck should I care about that?”

Laurel did not even flinch. "Because if you so much as touch a hair on her head, you will find out just how much." For good measure, she headbutted the man, with such force that he was knocked onto his back, his head hitting the van floor with a satisfying thump.

"Ralph!" one of the other soldiers yelped, immediately going to his aid. 

"He does look like a Ralph, doesn't he?" Laurel observed. 

“Yeah. I think he does,” Nyssa said after a moment. “That was nice, though.”

Laurel smiled. “Yeah?”

"Indeed, my love. Romance and stamina?” Nyssa said teasingly, her chained hand going behind Laurel’s neck to pull her wife towards her. “You must save some for the rest of us, dearest." And despite their circumstances Laurel laughed.

"What do you think, Nyssa?" Laurel asked quietly. "Do you think this could be like Marrakech in '67?"

Nyssa smiled back. "You read my mind." She waited, then leaned in as if to kiss Laurel, but at the last second they both moved so quickly the soldiers didn't even have a chance to think, let alone raise their guns. With her chained hands Laurel got a hold of the two soldiers nearest her while kneeing a third between the legs. She knew from the crunching sound she heard that Nyssa had probably broken some bones, and as Laurel caught sight of Ralph feebly stirring a few feet away, she kicked his face for good measure. 

Then and only then did Laurel pull Nyssa towards her for a kiss, and she sighed contentedly in her wife's mouth. 

"Keys?" Laurel asked, and Nyssa shook her head. The two of them rifled through the soldiers' pockets just to be sure, but they came up with nothing. "Shit.”

“It seems we are out of luck. They must have locked us in from the inside. We must simply await our fate, habibti." 

“I hate doing that,” Laurel muttered. 

"I know you do, hayati, but we are out of options." 

Laurel looked up, met her wife's eyes. "How are you always able to stay so enduringly patient?" 

Nyssa smiled back. "Why, from centuries of practice, of course." 

As if on cue, the van ground to a halt, and when the doors opened by yet more soldiers, Ralph’s unconscious body rolled out with a thump.

Laurel cleared her throat. “Any chance you motherfuckers can get these chains off us?”

"Perhaps don't lead with that, my heart," Nyssa said, but it wasn't with a lot of conviction and she was unsurprised when the soldiers ignored her words and dragged her to her feet. Next to her, they were doing the same with Laurel. 

"Habibti, I love you, but you know playing nice isn't going to get us anywhere," Laurel said, annoyance laced into her tone from how the men were gripping her shoulders with far more force than necessary.

"True. We are usually better judges of character," Nyssa said, speaking now to the woman who had orchestrated this whole fiasco - Amanda Waller. 

Waller didn't reply, just glowered back at Nyssa. 

"It's a nice plane, Amanda," Laurel said, as Nyssa was frogmarched onto the plane waiting for them.

"There's a TV, Laurel!" Nyssa called over her shoulder, and Laurel couldn't suppress her laugh if she wanted to. 

"Ooh! Any champagne?" Laurel asked, her heart soaring when the words elicited a laugh from her love. 

Her smile was short-lived, though, as Waller brought up the rear and the plane door closed behind them. This was Laurel's second worst fear come true, of capture and inevitable experimentation, and she wondered if it would lead to her greatest fear of all - that she would be separated eternally from her beloved. 

She closed her eyes, as she was being strapped onto the seat of the plane next to her wife. The restraints around her ankles were unnecessarily tight and Laurel could barely move her wrists, but in that moment she felt the gentle press of a single finger hooking around one of hers. It was Nyssa, reassuring her through the tiniest touch that she was there, that she was okay, that they would be, and Laurel wanted so badly to seize Nyssa's hand and kiss it, but she couldn't. 

So instead, she squeezed her wife's finger in return, and then murmured the prayer that she hoped was sent up to the heavens, for the two of them to emerge from this intact and together. 

Tagging: @skydisneylover @stungunmilly2 @mewis-sisters @therewas-a-girl @bulbasaurfan93 @nyssalance @istanlena @abbyscameron @nyxxyn22 @ineedhelp25fan @theolivekiddo @me-and-sweatpants @rainboisland