#imperial wrecker

[99aceace]

The bad batch, but all inhibitor chips activated. All, but Crosshair's. So now Crosshair is a single dad, on a run from his former family. Rest of the batch tries to hunt down him and Omega.

[meme-force-99]

Sharing a few Imperial! Batch edits because these deserve a life outside our Discord:

[momojedi]

idk about yall but imperial wrecker always does something to me

[nika6q]

Imperial Wrecker

[chopper-base]

TBB Reverse!AU

Chapter one is finished!!! Still haven't figured out a name for this series, so I'll take any suggestions yall have!!

Summary: Crosshair and Echo watch the rest of their team succumb to the chip's control.

Warnings: Character death, canon character death, violence, canon divergence, alternate universe

WC: 2591

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

Crosshair didn’t know what to think when he turned to see the regs firing at their Jedi General. Over the sound of blaster fire, he could hear her voice screaming at her padawan to run. Her terror-filled voice sent shivers down the sniper's spine. The Padawan was running in their direction but skidded to a stop when he noticed them in front of him. The Padawan looked at the Bad Batch in fear, taking a shaky step back before turning and disappearing into the snowy woods.

Crosshair looked between the regs running toward the batch and the woods where the kid disappeared, trying to figure out what had caused the regs’ sudden turn.

The realization that Tech was reading something off his datapad had Crosshair snapping his attention back to his brother. Tech explained that General Grievous had been defeated, marking the end of the war. “The com channels are repeating one directive.” Tech’s demeanor changed as he read the next line, “Execute Order 66.”

The moment the words left Tech’s mouth, Crosshair knew something was wrong. He watched as everyone but Echo stiffened. Hunter’s sharp eyes growing eerily distant.

“We need to go after the kid,” Echo broke the strange silence, pointing to where the padawan had disappeared, “He’s gonna get himself killed out there alone!”

Hunter glared at Echo, causing the Corporal to take a step back. “The kid is a jedi. The order includes him,”

“The order??” Echo’s eyes were wide with shock, “Hunter! He’s a kid! We don’t even know what the ‘order’ is!”

“Good soldiers follow orders.”

A pause. Echo’s confused and pleading eyes stared back at Hunter’s distant ones before the Sergeant turned towards where the kid had vanished. “...what?”

Following the trail of small footsteps through the snow, Hunter ignored the ARC. Not another word was uttered as Tech and Wrecker followed behind him, holding their weapons at ready. Echo watched them go, turning towards Crosshair, who hesitantly followed the others.

Before Crosshair could go any further, Echo grabbed his arm desperately. “Crosshair, I know you guys don’t work with the Jedi almost ever, but come on! It’s a kid!!”

Crosshair nodded. “Believe me, I know. Something’s… off. Hunter would never-“

Blaster fire echoed through the mountain range. Crosshair whipped his head around, looking down towards the woods before back up at Echo. Not a word was exchanged as both immediately took off down the snowy slope after their brothers.

The blaster fire stopped as they got closer. Crosshair’s breath caught in his throat as they spotted the rest of the batch. At Hunter’s feet lay the motionless body of the padawan, four blaster burns decorating the young boy’s chest. His eyes were open, but their light was long gone. His round, childish features were frozen in an expression of permanent fear.

The Padawan’s lightsaber was clenched in Hunter’s fist, helmet concealing all emotions on his face. Crosshair could see in the Sergeant’s body language, there was not an ounce of guilt or regret.

Everything about his brothers was wrong. Wrecker was silent, not a single joke or quip escaping his lips. Through the clear visor of Tech’s helmet, Crosshair could see how distant his eyes were, fixed on his datapad, not sparing a glance at the small body at his feet.

The regs were getting closer. Crosshair could hear their boots crunching in the snow behind him, but his eyes refused to leave the boy, smoke still rising from his wounds. His brothers had just murdered a child and the only one who seemed to care at all was Echo.

“We’ve been ordered back to Kamino.”

Crosshair tore his eyes away from the child to glare at Tech. There was no emotion behind his words, no Tech explanation, just orders. Hunter barely acknowledged Tech before walking back up the slope, ignoring Crosshair and Echo all together as he passed. Tech and Wrecker were quick to follow, their steps oddly in sync as they followed their Sergeant.

Crosshair spared a glance back at the young padawan, now being moved by the regs, before nodding at Echo to follow him. Staying further back from the other three, Crosshair and Echo fell into step beside each other.

“Something is seriously wrong with them, Cross,” Echo whispered harshly.

Crosshair studied his brothers as they walked, their movements seemingly not their own. “I know. It’s all wrong,” Very, very wrong.

They continued to follow Hunter at a distance throughout the trek back to the Marauder. Crosshair could feel the uneasy feeling radiating from the ARC that was still in step with the sniper.

When they reached the Marauder, Crosshair climbed the ramp behind Echo, his feet barely hitting the top step before Tech started to raise them. On any other day, Crosshair would have made some snarky comment about waiting for him to be inside before shutting the ramp, or even just an annoyed huff and a glare. Today? Crosshair didn’t even bother to look in Tech’s direction, making his way directly to his bunk. He sat down, keeping his Firepuncher in his hands and ignoring the helmet still on his head. He didn’t want his brothers to see the concern that he was sure was all over his face. He knew his brothers; he knew them better than they knew themselves. Whoever was sitting in the cockpit, were not his brothers.

Not even two weeks ago, Crosshair had watched Hunter almost get himself killed trying to protect a kid. He refused to believe that he had just witnessed that same brother murder a child for treason of all things.

That kid couldn’t have been older than thirteen. Why was he even on a battlefield to begin with?

Crosshair could understand a few Jedi committing treason. They had heard of the massacre on Umbara, a Jedi General who pulled just the right strings to trick two battalions to fire upon each other. Hundreds of regs had been murdered for no other reason than Krell finding power hungry satisfaction in their deaths. Apparently Captain Rex had asked the ex-general why he did it and his answer had simply been ‘because I can’.

Crosshair never cared for the regs, but reading that report had his stomach churning. They weren’t even supposed to have access to those reports, but Tech had gotten curious, hacking in and retrieving the reports in a matter of minutes. They had made sure to delete them when Echo had joined, not needing the ARC knowing the horror his late twin had gone through without him.

Crosshair honestly wouldn’t have batted an eye if they had just gone after the Jedi Council. He could count on one hand how many times they had worked with a Jedi, Skywalker being the only one that Crosshair tolerated, but for them to be ordered to murder the padawans? Something extremely screwed up was happening and whatever it was, was coming directly from the top of command.

Crosshair felt as the ship dropped out of hyperspace, leaving him to assume they had arrived back on Kamino. He sighed, forcing himself to stand before making his way to the cockpit. The room was eerily silent as Tech piloted the Marauder towards Tipoca City, his normal fast maneuvers nowhere to be seen. Crosshair hated the way the ship barely rocked as they landed, all Tech’s movements almost droid like.

Echo sat in the co-pilot’s seat, his helmet still secure on his head. Hunter and Wrecker also still wore their helmets, and for once, Crosshair missed the ruckus that was supposed to be their normal.

Hunter exited the Marauder, Wrecker and Tech falling in step as they made their way down the ramp. Crosshair stopped beside the door, waiting for Echo to exit before he followed. Crosshair was the first to notice the hover gurney, a sheet pulled over what was clearly a body being guided across the hanger. He watched as a lightsaber rolled off the gurney, clanging against the metal floor, rolling to a stop at the feet of a reg.

The colors of the surrounding armor caught the sniper’s attention, confusion overtaking him as he spotted the scarlet red of the Corrie Guard. The other companies made sense being here, but seeing the Guard on Kamino made the pit in Crosshair’s stomach sink deeper.

Wordlessly, he continued to follow his brothers through the white halls of Tipoca city; the corridors filled with more troopers than Crosshair had ever seen on Kamino at once.

The batch came to an abrupt stop as Hunter held up his fist. “We’ve got company,” he stated almost coldly. He turned around, the rest of the batch doing the same, quickly spotting their tail.

A small girl stood behind them, waving at the batch, a smile decorating her face. “Hi! I’m Omega!”

Crosshair glanced at Hunter, gauging his reaction as the child introduced herself, his face giving nothing but annoyance. The Sergeant didn’t bother replying to the child, signaling the batch to follow as he began to walk away. The look that came over the girl’s face as Hunter turned away from her had the sniper sneering at the Sergeant.

Echo looked at her with a look of sympathy, offering her a forced smile, “Sorry, kid. We’ve had a rough day. Just… don’t take it personally,”

The girl returned his smile. The look of betrayal on her face stabbed the sniper. He didn’t know who this kid was, but it was evident this child had been excited to meet them, and Hunter barely gave the poor girl a glance.

Echo turned and began to follow the rest, but Crosshair couldn’t help but stare at the girl a little longer. She met his gaze, something in her eyes sending a wave of calm over him. He couldn’t bring himself to return her smile, but he nodded to her, “Stay out of trouble, kid,”

That seemed enough for her, her smile growing just a bit brighter. She waved to him as he turned to catch up with the rest of his brothers.

Something about her was familiar, like he knew, but he couldn’t place it. Her smile burned into his mind, her look of innocence as she introduced herself, the look of betrayal as his brothers cast her off as nothing. He couldn’t get her out of his head, he knew he would likely run into her again, and for a reason Crosshair couldn’t place, he looked forward to it.

—-----------

The Empire. That’s what the republic had now become. A galaxy wide empire with one man sitting at the top, in charge of it all. The thought of a single man being the voice of reason and law didn’t sit well with the sniper. The war was finally finished, yet somehow, Crosshair knew the fight was far from over.

Crosshair began to notice the difference in the regs’ behavior as well, seeming almost as though their minds weren’t their own. Regs never got along with the batch. Insults being thrown their way was just the way of life with the batch when they were on Kamino, but the regs acted as though the batch didn’t exist.

Crosshair eventually found himself in the mess hall, his brothers silently eating around him. He absently stared at the food on his tray, his appetite practically nonexistent. The sniper hadn’t expected much to happen during their meal, seeing as the regs had been weirdly ignoring, but the last thing he expected was a small body sitting to his right. Crosshair looked to see the girl again, smiling up at him as she set her tray beside his. She looked around at the rest of the batch waving, her bright smile still plastered on her face. The only one who paid her any mind was Echo, offering the girls a small smile, and a slightly confused sounding ‘hello’. She looked back at the sniper, her smile now slightly saddened.

“You are aware, sitting with us might attract some unwanted attention?”

The girl’s smile didn’t waver. “But I want to sit with you so I don’t care what they think,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Crosshair tried and failed to hide the small smile that flashed across his lips. “What are you doing on Kamino, anyway?”

The girl shrugged, “I’ve been here all my life,”

Crosshair looked at her in confusion, “All your-?” The voice of a reg behind him had him stopping mid sentence.

“Oh look. The defect squad got themselves a new recruit!”

Crosshair turned to see a small group of regs walking by, a smug look on every one of their faces. Omega shrunk slightly in the seat next to him, which just pissed the sniper off more. Crosshair wasn’t one to start fights with other regs, especially when they were on Kamino, but it was taking everything in him not to launch himself at the smug bastard.

Another reg laughed, “One more member for the sad batch,”

The only thing stopping the sniper now was a small hand that came to rest on his arm, the girl’s face offering him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Crosshair. They’re not worth it,”

The regs walked away, laughing and throwing insults over their shoulder. Omega turned back to the table, offering the sniper a reassuring smile, before starting to eat. Crosshair watched the young girl in fascination, wondering why the child had grown up on Tipoca, of all places. Across the table, Echo was watching her as well, glancing at Crosshair with a look of confusion.

“You said you grew up here on Kamino?” Echo questioned, leaning forward and resting his scomp on the table.

Omega nodded, “I work with Nala Se as her medical assistant.”

Crosshair’s confusion continued to grow as the girl smiled at Echo. “...You’re just a kid? Why would they bring you to Kamino-“

“Crosshair,” Hunter’s voice cut him off. The sniper turned to the Sergeant, meeting his gaze, “Tell the girl to get lost. We are about to leave.”

Crosshair just stared at him as he stood up, quickly followed by Wrecker and Tech. Crosshair turned back to Echo and then to Omega, who looked as though she was holding back tears. He looked back at Echo, holding down the anger that was starting to boil. “If he snaps at me one time, I’m gonna hit him.”

Echo rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, because assaulting your superior officer is a great idea when he’s acting insane.”

“...it’s not his fault.” Omega cut in, her voice barely above a whisper, “He doesn’t have a choice.”

“Doesn’t have-...? The hell does that mean?” Crosshair questioned, a bit more harshly than he wanted, “We’re not droids, kid.”

Omega seemed to shrink into herself, but still looked up to meet the sniper’s eyes. “It’s their inhibitor chip. It’s making them act this way. It’s not their fault!”

“Inhibitor- what?” Echo stared at the kid, as she seemed to shrink even farther.

Before Omega could respond, a voice was calling his name from across the mess hall. He turned to see Hunter standing by the door, his bucket on his head. “Admiral Tarkin has requested for us to run a battle simulation. Let’s go. Both of you.” He barked before turning and disappearing through the door.

Crosshair turned back to Echo, clearly pissed. “...I’m gonna hit him.”

“Cross, no.”

Message me or leave a comment if you'd like to be added to my tag list! (You can be added specifically for this fic or for all my fics)

@idoubleswearimawriter @rain-on-kamino @staycalmandhugaclone @rndmpeep @nekotaetae @arkainea @kalykat @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius

[imarvelatthestars]

Good Soldiers

Pairings: Imp!Wrecker x f!Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, Wrecker under the influence of the chip, unhealthy relationships with a whisper of fluff, fingering, breath play

"Is that Crosshair?" You follow Echo's line of sight and something in your stomach plummets. "And Wrecker?"

The shape he and his brother cut into the light from inside the facility is anything but comforting because you can immediately tell that it's wrong. The slope of his shoulders isn't right, too harsh and tense instead of his usually relaxed posture. And Crosshair is all wrong, too. His normal batch armor is long gone and there's not a hint of red to be seen anywhere.

Not that that matters because there's plenty of red on the Coruscant Guard's men positioned defensively in front of them, blasters aimed at you.

"Best stand down, Sergeant."

Wrecker's head snaps to the side, then quickly to the other, and the resounding cracks in his vertebrae are just loud enough to hear. You can't see his face under the helmet. And when he speaks, it's like you don't even know him. "You're in direct violation of Order 66."

"Have you lost your minds?"

Don't antagonize them. Because something's been off with Crosshair since Kaller, something that's made him more volatile than ever. And then when Wrecker got separated from the group earlier, you'd nearly been eaten alive by your own anxiety, but Hunter had assured you he'd find his way back. Now that you see him, you realize that he's come back to you, but he hasn't come back right. Dank farrik, Hunter, don't make it worse.

When you finally draw your eyes away, you see Echo and Omega hunkered down behind the crates, blasters drawn. The kid looks about as scared as you feel.

A bolt of lightning illuminates the docking bay and for a moment, you can see something giant and terrifying looming on the far wall. And then it dissipates, shrinking back into a Wrecker-sized shadow. Your heart hurts.

"You never could see the bigger picture," Crosshair drawls. "Now surrender."

Hunter readjusts himself so that he's standing a little closer to you, his non-dominant arm stretched out ever so slightly in front of you. "Is that an order?"

Cross exhales something like a laugh. "Heh. I guess it is." His toothpick lolls to one side.

"Well, I guess I'm disobeying that one too."

Thunder rumbles so deeply that it rattles your bones. A particularly strong gust of wind and rain screams into the bay. Your scalp goes cold as your hair is misted and the water seeps down the back of your neck. You can feel something in the air, a tension so brittle it's about to snap. Your gaze flickers over the Coruscant Guard, then Crosshair, and finally lands on Wrecker. It's impossible to tell where he's looking, but your skin prickles when his helmet shifts ever so slightly in Hunter's direction. Or maybe it's yours?

You and Hunter just manage to duck out of the way of Cross' sniper bolt, each of you falling to separate sides of the pathway leading to the ship. One of your knees smacks hard into the durasteel and the pain radiates all the way up to your hip.

Somewhere over the chaos of all the shooting and the bolts sparking off the ship's hull, you can hear Hunter relaying orders, but they're not coming through on your vambrace properly. You draw your blaster and manage a few shots, even taking down one of the Corries. It leaves a sickening taste in your mouth, though.

Then come the smoke bombs. And the sound of trooper boots smacking on steel. If they can blind you all for long enough, they'll be able to take everyone down one at a time and this escape will be over before it's even begun, and you know that. You know that Wrecker would normally be the one to clear it for you while Hunter and Echo pull off some impressively devastating maneuver.

Omega's shriek cuts through the chaos and that's when you realize that it's all up to you. If you can distract even one of the boys, even just for a second, it'll give the others that much more leverage. You're not disposable, but you're not a Bad Batcher. And you choose to think that Wrecker and Cross will be merciful with you if you get captured.

If.

It's all a blur, in hindsight. You remember shooting half blind into the smoke, running in an arc to Wrecker's last visible position and drawing as much fire as you can. You remember a blaster bolt sparking at your heels and another shooting clean through your foot. You remember a hard fall and searing pain. Omega screaming for you, Hunter's garbled voice over comms, the floor vibrating as some large thing lurches closer and closer.

"Get out of here," you grunt into your comms. "I'm a civilian, I'll be fine. Just get out of here!"

Hunter tries to argue with you. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the distinctive shape of a familiar helmet, white paint scrawled across the front.

"You know I'm right! Hunter, please, just go!"

The barrel of a blaster is angled at your face. Wrecker's no sniper, but he's a good shot. He won't miss. You don't understand what's compelled him to stand against his brothers likes this, against you, against everything you've all been fighting for. You don't know why he and Crosshair are suddenly so cold. All you know is that you don't want to die and you don't want your executioner to be the man you love.

In a final burst of desperation, you swing your legs out and take him down to his knees. The floor groans under the weight of him. There's a split second between the moments before and after you recover your blaster where you can switch the setting from kill to stun. You would never kill him. You could never live with yourself if you did. But you almost let it be, you almost risk it. Because you're hurting and you're scared and you just want to make it out of this alive, and you know you'll never stand a chance.

The stun bolt hits him in the chest and is redistributed across his armor. He falters for a moment, just long enough to get a shot to the space connecting your arm to your chest and it blows you clear off your feet. The docking bay spins around you. Then he's on top of you, his thighs pinning you down while his hands claw sluggishly at your throat.

You've never heard the gravel in his voice like you hear it now. "Good soldiers... follow... orders."

Your blaster goes off again, but it's impossible to tell if the shot lands or not. Fire erupts inside your lungs as you try to breathe and find that you can't. Everything hurts.

You never told him. It's one of the last thoughts that trickles through your mind before you slip into unconsciousness. You never told him how you felt. Now he'll never know.

Guilty of conspiring with traitors. Guilty of conspiring against the Empire. Guilty of treason. Guilty enough to be sentenced to execution. That's what Tarkin had said before he handed you off to the care of Vice Admiral Rampart, and Rampart had said that you were too valuable to be executed. You weren't sure what that meant until the giant figure of an altered clone came marching into the containment facility, devoid of his helmet, his smile, and the light that once shone so brightly in his eyes.

"I offer you a choice," Rampart says as Wrecker moves to stand beside him. Silent, immobile, the stern and ready posture of a soldier. "Join the Empire, as your friend has. You have already proven yourself capable in a fight against an enhanced clone. You could be useful."

You already know the answer, but you ask the question anyway. Allow yourself the illusion of free will. "And if I say no?"

At the Admiral's command, Wrecker moves into an attack position with his blaster drawn and his scope aimed at a spot between your eyes.

"Then I'm afraid I will have no other option. You understand, of course."

Of course you do. It's a tale older than the galaxy itself - join them or die. It's not a choice. This is a trap, plain and simple, and somehow they've figured out the perfect bait; they must know about you and Wrecker. You wouldn't be surprised if Crosshair told them just to toy with you.

You don't want to die. You don't want Wrecker to be the one to do it. You don't want to fight for the Empire, the Jedi murderers, the ones guilty of conspiring to slaughter innocent civilians. You want the life you had on the Marauder. You want things you realize now that you can no longer have because they simply don't exist anymore.

Your head hangs in shame as reality settles into your bones. Maybe you can find a way out. Maybe you can escape. But even as you speak the words that seal your fate, you know it's a fool's hope because something in your gut tells you that the Empire will never let you leave unless it's in a body bag.

Rampart smiles like a rat. There's something shifty behind his eyes, calculating, clever, too knowing. He snaps his fingers and Wrecker's blaster falls back to his side, he stands at attention and his eyes fixate on something you can't see. It's like he's not even awake in there.

"Very good." Rampart requests that your cell be opened and the containment barrier fizzles out. Freedom has never felt so suffocating. "0600 tomorrow morning, the training facility. Don't be late. CT-9903?" And Wrecker's attention snaps to the Admiral in an instant. "I shall leave her training up to your discretion."

And the look passed your way, one cybernetic eye, cold and detached, one sharp and dangerous, makes you shudder. You do not trust that look nor the man behind it. But you love him.

How long has it been? You watch the rain come down in torrents on the transparisteel and the lightning illuminate the farthest reaches of the ocean, and you feel your heart sink deeper and deeper. They're not coming back. You'd hoped that Hunter might reconsider what you told him on the platform once you didn't rejoin them, but the days have turned into months and you're still here.

You're not sure if the Batch would even recognize you anyway. The training that Wrecker's put you through has been harsh and it's changed your body, rewritten the code of your muscles so they're stronger, more resilient, more deadly. He's pushed you to run until your entire body burns, to force the stamina into you until you scream. He's made you more of a weapon than you ever were before and it terrifies you because someday soon the Empire will take notice of your sharpshooting skills and your hand-to-hand talents, and they'll send you on a mission you're not sure you'll be able to complete.

It's in the afterglow of this one terrible thought that the barracks door opens and a shadow is cast over you from behind. You think at first that it's Crosshair, finally returned from his latest mission, but the creak of the metal underfoot and the heaviness of the shadow's breaths tell you you're wrong. Your head is suddenly spinning and your throat is dry, too dry, it's almost painful. Your heartbeat's thundering in your ears and that hurts, too. Everything hurts, everything within you is keyed up about ten levels too high and you fear you're about to implode from the pressure.

Plastoid armor thunks on the floor just behind you. The door hums shut. Wrecker grunts as he wrestles with one of his pauldrons. Your hands are shaking. And then he speaks.

"Gave Rampart my report on your progress today. Says he thinks you're finally ready for a mission."

You would rather be eaten alive by a sarlacc. "Good," you reply and you do a good job of not gagging.

"Hm. You think you're ready?"

You blink and he's there, coming around to get a better look at you like he does when you're training. Arms crossed, jaw tight, watching, assessing. His eyes dip down unembarrassed to follow the line of your legs, then back up over the rest of you.

You can feel your throat bob when you swallow. "Yes, sir."

When he steps closer, you step back a bit. It's a game you've been playing for too long now - lothcat and mouse, you run and he pursues, licking his chops, letting you slowly wear yourself out. He's been looking like he's about to pounce for weeks now. It's just a matter of time.

"You're a good soldier." The Wrecker you knew once would never have said it the way you know he means it now.

He stalks you around the table, the table that used to be his brother's, and for a moment you realize that you really miss Tech. He was always good to you.

"So are you."

A flash of lightning catches his scar. Even now when he's not the man he ever was, you think he's beautiful. Countless months of working at his side and still it feels as if you haven't seen him at all. Like he's gone.

"Y'know, I'm glad you made the right choice. Stuck with the Empire. Followed orders." Your back hits the wall, sends a jolt of panic up your spine, and the corner of Wrecker's mouth dimples. He closes the distance between you with a single step. The meat of his hand rests heavy on your cheek, his breath hot and stuffy on your face. "I like it when you follow orders."

Maker, you're going to be sick. "Wrecker," you start, but you don't have the stomach to finish it. There's not much fight left in you now.

"C'mon," he huffs and for a moment, you see a glimpse of him in his smile. "Don't get shy on me now, sweetheart."

"I'm not-"

The pad of his thumb rubs over the knot in your throat. His tongue wets the ridge of his bottom lip and dammit all, you hate yourself for it, but everything in the pit of your stomach curls in on itself as a whisper of arousal settles between your legs. It's the way he's looking at you, like he's going to devour you whether you like it or not. You'd always wondered if he ever saw you the way you did him - now you're not sure how to feel about your answer.

"You gonna be good for me?"

As his other hand drifts over the dip of your waist, you find your inhibitions sinking lower and lower. This is everything you've ever wanted. Isn't it?

"Yes."

Wrecker smirks and the breadth of his palm settles over your neck. Does he remember when he almost killed you? You watch his good eye glimmer in the lowlight and you find your heart aching. Does he regret it?

"You're gonna follow orders?" What he means is, you're going to follow my orders. It's not a question, not really.

"Is that what you want?"

You want him to say no. You want him to snap out of this fucked up trance that the Empire has him in, to grab your hand and tell you he's sorry and take you as far away from Kamino as possible. You hope you never have to think about this planet again. You hope it drifts into the nearest black hole and all the pain and death and blood its spilt will finally be washed away. You want your Wrecker back.

His fingers squeeze into both sides of your neck. A warning and a promise. "I think you know what I want," he says as he noses into your cheek. "And I know what you want."

The resounding whine he draws out of you is embarrassing, but it clearly gets him right in the gut because his hands shift lower and his mouth latches right onto your pulse point, and suddenly you're moaning like some graphic holo actress. He's electrifying your skin.

"That's it," he rumbles and you can feel him smiling. "Sound so pretty."

Tears prick at your eyes because that's the most Wrecker thing he's said to you in weeks. And when you push at his shoulders to force him back a bit, to see his eyes better, you see something in the lines of his face that reminds you of the man you fell in love with. There's a softness there in the wrinkles around his eyes, the ones that crease into his cheeks.

Your hands cup his face and you find that he fits perfectly. "Wrecker." It comes tumbling out of you before you can stop it. "I love you."

He descends on you mouth first, jamming you hard into the wall as his tongue laves out across your still open mouth. You're crumbling into him, clinging to him with everything you have in you because if you don't, you'll drop. And Maker, he's everywhere - in your hair, your mouth, under your clothes and over your breasts, touching, tasting, scraping teeth over skin until your head feels like it's about to explode.

"Thought about you. Every day."

For a moment, you're caught between mind numbing bliss and utter confusion. You're not even sure if you're still attached to your body. Then his finger rubs a rough stroke over your clit and you come crashing back to Kamino. He what?

He's sucking at your earlobe now. "Every mission. Every night. Hunter used t' ream me about it." His laughter is warm and wet. "Can't stop touchin' myself thinkin' 'bout how pretty y'are."

This is. This can't be real. How is this real? You're dreaming - nightmaring?- or you're sick, hooked up to some machine that's pumping you full of hallucinogens. You're the one that's always been pining after Wrecker, not the other way around. Even when he changed and started getting a little flirtier, a little rougher around the edges, the man and the Empire bleeding together into one, you just assumed it was a side effect of the chip.

"Don't-" You choke on your own arousal. "Don't say that."

He tilts his head up enough for you to see his raised eyebrows. He looks more like himself than ever. "Why not?"

Your head shakes of its own accord. "'Cause you don't mean it."

One giant hand goes slamming into the wall by your head with enough force that it buckles under the pressure. He fills every corner of your vision and that softness you've been missing, craving is gone.

"I wanna fuck you," he growls.

You couldn't speak even if you wanted to. You're so scared shitless right now that your jaw is wired shut. Kriffing stars above, how can he say something so ferally attractive while looking so menacing?

"D'ya even know? How many times? I fucked myself thinkin' 'bout you?" His eyes trace the shape of your lips in place of his fingers; they're a little too busy reaching into your underwear. "So pretty. 'n' sweet. Kriffin' wanna bury myself inside ya, fuck ya forever."

His fingers are so wide and rough, they're perfect against you, inside you, seeking, taking, rubbing, Maker, they're incredible. His forehead falls down onto yours, your breaths mingle until you finally feel him in your lungs and you wonder if he can feel and truly understand what he does to you, what this means.

Your arousal is crawling its way up your spine, up your throat, crying and whimpering and begging for more. "Don't stop." You can barely breathe. "Wreck, fuck, please. Pleasepleaseplease-"

His too satisfied laughter cuts you off. "Go on, pretty thing," he gruffs before claiming your mouth a second time. It's brief, but it has your stomach twisting into the warmest, tightest knots imaginable. "Let it all out for me."

Your orgasm comes howling out of you. Every muscle you have winds up tight as your nerve endings spark, your chest goes white hot, your jaw is frozen half open and everything is Wrecker. He's thrusting his fingers into you hard and the heel of his hand is ghosting against your clit and his teeth are so damn shiny when he grins at you. His other hand settles over the hollow of your throat.

Anything he wants. Anything he needs. If he wants you on your knees, you'll drop. If he wants you to beg, you'll beg til you can't even talk anymore. Anything at all, so long as he's doing this.

You flinch when he withdraws and curls his fingertip into your clit. It's too fucking much, but it makes him smile and grunt and lick his lips, so you'll... you'll allow it. Whatever he wants.

"I always knew you were a good girl."

The desperate little moan you make when his words finally register pairs nicely with the trembling of your knees. But he catches you when you fall. His hands go swooping under your arms, then readjust so he's holding you all splayed out against his stomach, one hand under your ass and the other at the base of your neck. You can smell yourself on him.

"Let's see what else I can get out of ya, huh?" He starts toward his bunk and suddenly your heart is in your throat. Oh, he's not done with you. "Bet I can make ya scream all pretty, too."

He flops you atop his blanket; it's scratchy and coarse and it smells like his sweat, and then he's looming over you. You can't tell if it's a threat or a promise of something far better. Probably both.

Your mouth falls open and your tongue stretches out at his silent request, his fingers soaked with your pleasure and put on display. An order. And you're a good soldier.

Wrecker groans so loudly that you feel it in your thighs, or, more specifically, the space between them. He fits perfectly inside your mouth, his fingers are heavy on your tongue and they taste like what he smells like. He's everything you've ever wanted. He settles between your legs and rips off his codpiece, and when he ruts into you, it's enough to bring you halfway to coming all over again.

His good eye glints dangerously. "Still think I don't want ya?"

You shake your head frantically. His fingers are still pressing down on the flat of your tongue and you're drooling out around him, but you'll let him make a mess of you if that's what he wants. Because all you want is him.

"Good," he rumbles as he lowers himself onto one elbow, presses up against you, oozing sin. "Now open up wide, sweetheart. Gotta make room."

Your bottoms and underthings end up in a shredded pile on the other side of the room. And you do end up screaming for him. Three more times.

[superiorsniper]

~ MUN Post ~ We interrupt your scrolling journey with this anticlimactic announcement 📢

- my rp squad (sometimes called Meme Force 99) also does Imperial Batch blogs (but writers aren't 1:1 w/ Fugitive Batch)

- they're all 18+ because of your thirst they often allude to mature themes & concepts

- Imp Cross currently follows his S2 arc since this blog was never intended for that

So if you like that sort of thing and promise not to try to save them, feel free to check out @imperial-strategist, @imperial-demolition-expert, @imperial-sniper, and @imperial-science-officer

[megakatz]

Imperial Demolition Expert Wrecker 

I just realized how menacing @imperial-demolition-expert is. This portrait captures it well I believe.

Long Live the Empire

[disastertriowriting]

@clonefandomevents

Our fill for "parenting". :D

After losing Crosshair and Wrecker on Kamino. Hunter attempts to take care of what's left of his squad. He wants them back, but they don't have a way to get to them. Until he unexpectedly runs into them both when he's on a delivery for Cid. The only problem? They want to take him back to the Empire with them.

[fanfictasia]

The Bad Batch: One Shot Collection - Page Down (Part 3) - Wattpad

Page Down Chapter 3: Part 3, a star wars: the bad batch fanfic | FanFiction

[meme-force-99]

Sharing a few Imperial! Batch edits because they deserve a life outside the MemeForce Discord:

You know the drill - please feel free to use these, but reblogs also bring glory to the Imperial Science Division, Demolitions Department, Tracking Unit, Military Strategy, and Elite Squad troopers. 😉

[kitty-i-swear-to-gosh]

I’m sorry WHO IS THIS SULTRY BINCH HERE???

I might be insane but they made a point to focus on this figure for a good number of frames…just sus to me is all

Is this Imperial Tech?? Is it my son?? I hope so

[nika6q]

Summer in Scarif Undisclosed Imperial Retreat

Imperial Wrecker is enjoying a Scarif Slush unidentified beverage while fishing during a well-earned vacation.

[chopper-base]

I get a whole 2500 words down for my TBB!Reverse au and then my brain shut tf down.

...we were on a roll for a minute there-

Writing Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech under the chip influence is hurting my soul...

[techs-assistant]

You can run, but you can’t hide.

[mooonjin]

OOOH THEY’RE GETTING OMEGA BACK ASAAAP

tbb spoilers 03x13!!!

“🤨🫴”

her iconic hellaur

OMEGA SMART SHE’S BREAKING THEM OUT 🙌

that’s my arc trooper right there

angry baby in the back seat LOOOL

omg 💔

“you’ve been demoted” URGH THESE TWO IN THIS SHOT 😻

WRECKER AND IMPERIAL HAT 😭😭 SO SILLY