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annoyinglyhardsong · 2 months

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CodyWan Week Day 1 Prompt: Lightsaber/Lightsaber Training

Author Note: Hello lovelies! I haven't written anything in years but I love CodyWan so I just had to participate in some way, shape, or form. Likes, reblogs, comments, and feedback are all welcome! Divider by @saradika-graphics, if you are looking for any cute graphics or dividers they have tons of amazing ones! Tags: Fluff, Pining, Slight angst, SFW.

As the dust cleared from the battlefield Cody, the other commanders, and their ARC troopers started looking for wounded and getting medical attention to those who needed it. As he was crossing to an outcropping where he knew many of his vode had been trapped, he caught a glimmer of something in the debris. He gave pause and looked closer, not seeing anything and thinking it was scrap from droids, he was about to continue on to his destination when the light caught it again.

It was more reflective than the battle droids and tanks that the Separatists used, and he had a feeling he knew exactly what was glinting back at him in the sun. With a sigh he made the detour to go fetch the object he was sure he was going to find buried carelessly in the rubble.

Sure enough as he got closer to the item he could make out the distinctive silver and gold markings of his General’s lightsaber. He really could not understand how the man lost the item as often as he did. “This weapon is your life,” he had heard Obi-Wan lecture Anakin and Ashoka on more than one occasion about their reckless lightsaber care, but somehow never managed to apply those teachings to himself. In a true, do as I say, not as I do fashion.

Furthermore, it was always glued to his capable hands in battle, whirling and slicing through the enemy like an extension of himself. It was almost graceful watching his General fight. Whether on the battlefield or in the training salles Obi-Wan moved with a confidence and grace with his lightsaber that Cody found himself getting lost watching more and more.

Cody had been caught, flustered, watching Obi-Wan train and more through the forms of Soresu on more than one occasion. Something, Rex, had started to pick up on and tease him about, but he couldn’t help it.

Obi-Wan would strip the layers of his tabards and thicker outer tunics when training, leaving him in a thinner tunic that allowed Cody to appreciate the roll of muscles in his shoulders and back, the way his strong arms would reach up and block blows if he was dueling with Anakin, and if this led him to also notice his quick footwork and the toned muscles of his thighs when he lunged, well he was guilty as charged.

He had work to do however. No time to stand around, lost in thoughts of Obi-Wan. He would have to reserve his pining for later after the clean up was over and he and Obi-Wan had gone through their no doubt tedious and extremely detailed debriefing of the mission.

With a sigh, he picked up the lightsaber and clipped it to his belt. The small loop had been added a few months into working with his General specifically for whenever he found the discarded weapon. Really for all Obi-Wan complained about blasters and called them uncivilized, he had a habit of neglecting his more “elegant” weapon of choice.

He quickly finished his search of the areas and assisted a handful of troopers that hadn’t been able to seek medical attention yet and returned to base. Leaving transports and ground clean up in the hands of his capable ARC troopers he clambered aboard the next LAAT he was able to. Back aboard The Negotiator his General quickly caught up with him.

Obi-Wan was scuffed up but looked no worse for wear than he had when they parted ways after the battle. A few smears of dirt adorned his face where he had no doubt tried to wipe away sweat and keep an errant lock of hair out of his face. There were a few singe marks through his tunics where blaster bolts had narrowly missed him, but he was unharmed. A set of piercing blue eyes caught his from across the hanger, and he brought himself back to the present, mentally cursing himself for allowing himself to get distracted. Obi-Wan needed him to do his job and be his Commander, not some pining school girl.

“Are you alright? You seem distracted.” Obi-Wan’s crisp accent cut through the commotion around them in the hanger as Obi-Wan strode over to him.

Cody scrambled to come up with a reason that wouldn’t compromise his relationship with the General or give away his feelings or how distracted he truly was.

“Perfectly fine General. Just a little tired from battle is all, nothing that won’t be cleared up soon.” He tried to placate the man.

Obi-Wan didn’t seem entirely convinced, but his expression quickly shifted from worry into a small smirk at something at Cody’s waist. Just as he was about to ask the General about it he spoke up, “I see my lightsaber has found its way to you again.”

Cody had completely forgotten that he had it clipped to his belt. He fumbled briefly as he reached for the weapon to unclip it from his belt. “It seems I have.” He felt the smooth metal of it in his palm and the steady weight of it. It really was an elegant weapon. He made to hand it back to Obi-Wan but didn’t let go once his fingers slipped around the familiar hilt.

“Sir,” Cody started, “you should really keep better track of this, it was under a pile of droids this time,” he gently chastised the older man.

Obi-Wan looked embarrassed for a fraction of a second, if Cody didn’t know him so well he would have missed it. “I’m not sure how I lost it this time either, to be entirely honest. It was there when I went to chase down that splinter battalion and when I finally caught up to them it was gone.” He looked thoughtful for a second, tucking the weapon back onto his right hip, but quickly brightened and fixed Cody with a dazzling million-watt smile. “But that’s what I have you for, my dear. You always keep me together. Thank you.”

Cody had to fight to keep a blush from creeping onto his cheeks. Obi-Wan was known to be a flirt and friendly to just about everyone, so it didn’t make his treatment of Cody special, but he couldn’t help the way it made him feel having that disarming smile turned on him. The crinkle in the corners of his eyes, and the almost mischievous spark that seemed to glint in them as a result. Recovering he answered, “Just doing my duty sir.”

Obi-Wan turned to leave down the hallway then, but not before he clapped Cody on the shoulder and stated, “Well, C’mon Cody let’s get this debriefing over. My quarters this time?”

“Sounds good to me, sir. As long as you don’t insist on more of that tea from Kashyyyk again. It was dreadful.” Cody answered, making a face as remembered the bitter brew the other man had insisted on drinking the last time they had done paperwork together, as he fell into step beside Obi-Wan. The answering laugh brought a warmth to his heart and a small smile to his face.

Even if he could never tell the General how he felt about him, and even if the General never returned those feelings he figured he could be perfectly content working with this man and soaking up as much precious time as he could with him. He would gladly be his second in command and keep him safe until he drew his last breath.

#codywan #codywan week #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #my writing #obi wan x cody #codywan week 2024 #obi wan kenobi's lightsaber #codywanweek #codywanweek2024 #cww2024

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vodika-vibes · 5 months

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Tomorrow Will Be Better

Summary: When his cyare has a bad day, Fives does everything in his power to make her evening better.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x F!Reader

Word Count: 760

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I wrote this in about 30 minutes, so I'm sorry if it's really bad. But I needed to write, so ta-dah.

Fives knows his cyare. He knows her moods and her quirks and her habits. She has a routine, and she follows it without thinking about it.

Honestly, his presence throws off her routine more than anything else in the galaxy. Not that he minds. He takes pride in being the one thing that can encourage his cyare to divert from her normal schedule.

But he also knows that he has to give her fair warning in advance.

So, when he sent an excited series of comms to his cyare, telling her about a new restaurant that his brothers told him about and how they were raving about it, and how he was definitely bringing her there tonight, he expected an enthusiastic reply.

Instead, he gets a half-hearted response. Half-hearted even by texting standards.

And he’s immediately concerned.

Fives toys with the idea of texting her again, of asking her what’s wrong and what he can do to help, but he has a feeling that his prodding isn’t going to help at all.

So, instead, he decides to scrap all of his plans.

Honestly, the restaurant can wait, his cyare can’t.

So instead of relaxing, like he normally does when he’s home for the first time in ages, instead he darts around the apartment. He can’t make it spotless, and he’s sure that his cyare wouldn’t want him to make the house spotless, but he does give the kitchen and bathroom a quick scrub, and he very quickly starts the laundry and vacuums the living room, before he sets about preparing everything she might need for a relaxing evening.

Her favorite pajamas are laid out on the bed. Her favorite dinner from her favorite restaurant is quickly ordered and paid for. He lights her favorite candles, the soft scented ones that don’t trigger her migraines.

Fives considers drawing her a bath, but decides to wait to see what her mood is like before he does that.

He would hate to make her feel pressured, after all.

And when the door opens, Fives is quick to greet her in the hallway, with a broad smile and a gentle kiss to her forehead.

She looks tired, his poor cyare. Dark circles under her eyes, and her hair pulled in a messy tail rather than the neater tail she usually wore to work. There’s an air of, almost, defeat around her.

“Oh, cyare,” Fives brushes the back of his fingers against her cheek, “You had a bad day.” It’s not a question.

She laughs, and his heart clenches when it comes out as more of a sob, “It’s been a hard week.” She admits, “And…oh, I said we could go to-...just let me change and we can head out.”

Fives lightly cups her face and kisses her cheek and then the other cheek, before ghosting his lips against hers, “Food has already been taken care of. I ordered your favorite.”

“You…you did? But you wanted to go to this new place-”

“The restaurant will still be there the next time you feel like going out. It’s not going to vanish into smoke,” His voice is light and teasing, “But I’m worried that you might vanish into smoke if I don’t help you get some rest.”

She sighs, soft and so very heavy, and then leans against his chest, “What did I do to deserve someone as amazing as you?”

“Hm…well, you tripped over my brother, and I caught you. So I suppose you could say that you literally fell for me.” Fives replies with a grin.

“...that’s awful.”

“You love me for my bad jokes.” Fives reminds her with a smothered laugh, “Come on, angelfish.” He kisses the top of her head, “I put your pajamas out and I lit your favorite candles.”

“You’re wonderful,” She says through a sigh.

“I am pretty amazing.” Fives agrees, “Now, come on. Let’s get you settled, and you can tell me all about your rotten week while I cuddle you. And then we can watch some trash tv together while you fall asleep.”

“I love you, Fives,” The words seem to slip from her lips without her permission, and Fives can’t help but grin. He already knew, of course, she’s told him that before, but it’s still new enough that it sends thrills through his entire body.

“I love you too, cyare.” He presses one more light kiss to her lips, and then pulls away to guide her to the bedroom.

He’ll take care of her until she’s ready to take care of herself…and even after.

#star wars #tcw #arc trooper fives x reader #fives x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic

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gijoe-forever · 5 months

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#gijoe #shockwave #chuckles #cobra #scrap iron #battle Android trooper

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cringey-tea · 6 months

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Revival Trooper 24, a promised commander that was scrapped. After being reworked then added into the Trooper line, he still felt unbridled hate for humans.

he's homophobic /j

#harmony and horror #art #my art #au #h&h #harmony & horror #h&h: revival #revival #Trooper Henry #fanart #Trooper 24

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badbatchposts · 6 months

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Quiet Corners of the Galaxy

Happy Bad Batch Eve! I'm obsessed with the new season but the content isn't coming out fast enough so I felt like I needed to write my own.

Tech's not dead and Crosshair rejoins the team partway through Season 2 after Mayday's death rather than being imprisoned by the Empire, but this is otherwise canon-compliant. No Season 3 spoilers.

Fic Summary: While on a routine mission for Cid, the Bad Batch encounter a woman fleeing from the Empire. Crosshair suspects her seemingly free-spirited, nomadic existence is actually a cover for something else, but struggles to keep his attraction toward her in check as their personalities and ideals clash.

Chapters posted 1-2x weekly!

Chapter One

“We will be landing on the outskirts of the city ruins shortly. Scanners indicate that it is abandoned, but there is an Imperial outpost located ten klicks East, in the next valley over. This should be a relatively simple operation: make our way to the city center, locate the cargo, and return to the Marauder.” Tech was at the controls of the ship as usual, setting them down in an open, overgrown area where the ruins of the city—little more than rubble and scrap now, haphazardly heaped stoneworks and scorched earth where once there had been homes, streets, marketplaces—were fewer and further between. The remaining members of the squad did their final checks of their equipment, adjusting armor and securing weapons as the hatch hissed open. Wrecker was the first out.

“Woah. What happened here?” The largest member of the squad looked around incredulously. The destruction was not recent; a thick layer of soot, grime, and overgrown weeds was evidence of the neglect that the ruins had been left to. It did not seem that anyone was deeply interested in rebuilding.

Tech had the answer, as always. “A particularly destructive battle toward the end of the war. The city was occupied by Separatist forces. Citizens who were unable to evacuate before the droids moved in were held in a makeshift camp on the North side of town. Luckily, this means that many of them made it out alive once the Republic regained the territory. Their homes…were less lucky.”

Crosshair, Hunter, and Echo followed the pair down the ramp. “What cargo could there even be left to recover in all this?” Crosshair asked skeptically. His voice, as usual, dripped equal parts disdain and boredom.

“Cid’s intel says mostly expensive droid parts,” Echo intervened. “The town had a factory. When the Separatists occupied it, they planned to begin shipping the parts off-world to help with production of their army. The Republic moved in too quickly for them; the factory was destroyed, but the crates were being housed underground awaiting cataloging. As far as Cid’s source knows, they’re still there.”

Hunter looked thoughtful. “Anything to worry about with that Imperial outpost, Tech?”

“Doubtful,” the other replied, examining his datapad. “The cargo is not significant enough to merit their attention, and forces are largely dedicated to patrolling a nearby spaceport, where it would seem most of the refugees have relocated.”

Hunter nodded seriously. “Alright then. Crosshair, get a good vantage point on the hilltop where you can keep an eye on us and any activity from the outpost coming our way. Everybody else, let’s locate that cargo.”

Their forces divided, the rest of the squad beginning to pick their way among the ruins toward the city center, while the slender sniper hiked in the opposite direction. The hills were dotted with trees—not heavily forested, but enough cover for him to dig in and wait. Soon, he crested the peak, settling in at a good vantage point where he could watch the outpost in the middle distance through his scope. Activities at the facility were regular and rhythmic; troopers on patrol, units coming and going from the nearby spaceport. Nothing extraordinary.

“In position. All clear,” he reported over his comm.

“Acknowledged,” came Hunter’s reply. With any luck, the others would retrieve the cargo within a number of hours. He waited, patient and disinterested. He was good at waiting.

Some time later, his comm crackled to life again with a status update. “Cargo located.” It was his turn to acknowledge their progress. For a brief moment, he thought idly about whether he preferred missions like this one—smooth, uncomplicated, if a little boring—or those where everything seemed to go right to shit. At least, he smirked to himself wryly, the latter required more significant use of his skills.

When he heard the screeching sound of failing engines and saw the dark plume of smoke trailing behind the ship on its downward trajectory, all he could think was that the galaxy must have been listening in on him.

It crashed down northeast of his position, the impact of the wreckage echoing out across the valley. The response on his comm came through almost immediately.

“What the hell was that, Crosshair?”

“Downed Imperial shuttle. Drawing attention from the outpost now. Get moving.”

“Well, with any luck that’ll keep them occupied long enough for us to get outta here. Stay outta sight,” Hunter replied. Crosshair shifted his scope from the troopers mobilizing at the outpost toward the crash site, just in time to see a woman emerge from the ship, coughing in the smoke. He had expected a detachment of troopers to come stumbling from the wreckage, not a lone woman. She was human, silver haired, staring back at the shuttle with a look halfway between rage and despair. She slammed her fist against the ship’s hull in frustration, and he smirked a little as she winced, rubbing her hand in pain. She ducked back into the ship, emerging momentarily, pulling a poncho over her head as she strapped a blaster to her hip and pulled on a pack.

He scanned the area around her as she began marching south from the crash, glancing furtively in all directions. She was heading on a trajectory that would intersect any moment with two troopers on speeder bikes. She was moving too slowly, limping a little. This should be interesting, he thought dryly. He was sure the Empire were very welcoming to unauthorized crash landings of stolen shuttles near their facilities.

When the woman and the troopers came face to face, he could only imagine the dialogue accompanying the silent pageant he could see through his scope. The woman slowly raised both hands, throwing a flattering, charming smile at the troopers. She thought she could talk her way out of it, he reasoned. So the flash of the blaster bolt caught him by surprise when she snaked one of her hands behind her head, grabbing a concealed weapon off her shoulder, and fired off a shot.

“Is that blaster fire, Crosshair?!” Hunter demanded over the comm.

“Not mine,” he replied calmly.

“Then who?!”

The round had caught one of the troopers in the chest, toppling him off the speeder bike. The woman took advantage of the confusion to dive for cover behind a tree, exchanging fire with the remaining trooper. What she couldn’t see, of course, were the other half dozen Imperials making their way toward her position. Any moment now, she’d be surrounded.

“Status?” Crosshair queried over the comm.

“Making our way back to the Marauder.”

The woman managed to get a good shot in on the remaining trooper, and he toppled to the ground. However, just as she made a dash for the speeder bikes, two green bolts flashed by, wrecking her getaway vehicles and forcing her to dive once more, losing the smaller blaster. She recovered quickly, unholstering the larger piece at her hip and taking shots at the oncoming troopers as she ran for cover again. It was pointless, he thought. She didn’t stand much chance of escape, alone, on foot. Not this close to the outpost.

From his vantage point, he could see the troopers fanning out, boxing her in. She had the hillside to her back; the elevation would slow down her retreat, even if she could keep up enough cover fire to out-maneuver the speeder bikes. And—the only part that mattered to him—she ran the risk of drawing Imperial attention to the adjoining valley before they finished loading up the marauder.

However, before he could further consider the implications of her retreat, he saw her move to fire off another shot from around her cover. In the brief moment she was exposed, a blaster bolt from one of the troopers clipped her side, propelling her forcefully to the ground. She was close enough for him to hear her strangled cry at the hit, echoing out against across the valley. She scrabbled backwards in the dirt, blaster thrown out of reach. One of the troopers swung off his speeder bike, approaching her slowly as he took aim. They weren’t planning on taking her prisoner. He couldn’t hear whatever words they exchanged, just see the snarl on the woman’s face before her features calmed, peaceful, as she closed her eyes before the inevitable.

Crosshair dispatched the trooper closest to her, expertly, just before the Imperial could squeeze to pull the trigger. He followed it up with three more in rapid succession, the troopers falling dead before they could hope to locate the sniper’s position or find cover. The final two, he saw with some surprise, were caught off guard by the woman, who had managed to crawl over to her lost blaster in the confusion.

She was attempting to limp her way over to one of the abandoned speeder bikes when he caught up to her.

“Stay back,” she warned him, eyes glinting as she aimed her blaster at him.

“Are you even sure you could ride one of those things by yourself right now?” He drawled back at her.

“Of course I can,” she snapped. As if to prove it to him, she gripped the handle of the first one she came to with her left hand, knuckles white, right hand steady as she kept her blaster trained on his chest. She swung her leg and mounted the bike. He watched her grip on the handle loosen as the shock and pain caught up to her, her eyes rolling back in her head as she collapsed.

Next Chapter

#the bad batch #star wars #clone wars fanfiction #clone force 99 #bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb crosshair #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair x oc

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jedi-order-apologist · 1 month

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Managing

People don't understand, but they don't ask questions, either. Written for r/AO3 Acegust - Prompt: "Touch Repulsed" and StarWars100 - Prompt: "Scavenge"

Read on AO3

Before, Cal had always been around people who understood why he sometimes shied away from touch. The lingering traces of a person’s experiences didn’t just rest on objects, but on people, too, and some days that was too much for him to deal with. All Cal had to do was say that he was psychometric, and any Jedi understood. It had been easy enough to explain to the clone troopers, too.

It was different now. He couldn’t tell anyone he was psychometric; no one on Bracca knew what that meant, and it would be worse for Cal if they did.

But being a scrapper meant he could manage. It was better, after all, to wear gloves and protect your skin when out there scavenging for scrap and salvage. No sense risking more than you had to, out there. Medkits weren’t cheap, and even small cuts could get infected.

And if even in the after-hours, when they would shed their gear, Cal would sometimes avoid contact, well… he’d learned to be unobtrusive about it. Some days were better than others.

Prauf noticed when Cal had bad days, of course. But he didn’t ask questions, and he gave him space.

Cal managed.

#cal kestis #fallen order #peppermint writes star wars fanfic #double drabble

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thecoffeelorian · 29 days

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Minesweeper

Minesweeper (Crosshair x Reader)

Premise: The saga continues. In other words, you and Crosshair are about to cut and run after dropping off Omega...but then, unforeseen events threaten to derail everything.

Word Count: 1,846

Masterlist: The Surprise Guest Series

Story Notes: Sooo...it's like this. I absolutely hated the first draft of this chapter, and the second, and the third...and to be honest, I was very close to scrapping the whole project, because it sucked. However. Just when I was about to give up, I was reminded that Commander Mayday didn't receive a proper funeral, and then that led to the idea that his body conveniently disappeared so that the Batch didn't have to think of one, which then led to a similar thought about Tech's body and how HE didn't receive a proper funeral...which led to a long list of unfinished business I'd gathered over the years that TBB aired, as well as the lingering thought in the back of my mind that, just like in The Clone Wars, there was some kind of unreliable narrator in charge of everything. Kind of like how the anti-dragon Maesters of Oldtown were in charge of writing Fire and Blood...but that House of the Dragon just might be telling the true story of the "Dance of the Dragons". So, in a nutshell, I'm back. Back to tell a more complex tale if I can, back to give more honor to the Clone Troopers if I'm able, and back to remove the bad bait-and-switch tactics that have been kinda prevalent throughout every new season of episodes. I only have one thing to ask of everyone else who's still reading, commenting, and reblogging: Buckle up!

Special Notes: As always, kudos to @stars-n-spice for my oh-so-lovely Crosshair header, and thank you! Oh, and one more thing--Happy Sniper Saturday!!

No Pressure Tags:

@techhasmjolnir @ms-grassi @donntmindmejustwandering @skellymom @youreababboon

@libraryfordyslexics @melymigo @otomefan @salirvine @aqua248

@cyare-of-the-501st @cobalt-candy @housepartyfortwo @rogue616 @theosb0rnway

@herculesjrockefeller @leos-multifandom-corner @baddest-batchers @crosshair-lover @groguandthebadbatch

@gigachadcowboy @ash04w3 @thatacefr @evabellasworld @momojedi

@marvelsgoddessofmischief @badbatchlover @mysticalgalaxysalad and anybody else on the lookout for more Crosshair x Reader stories.

Some time later, when your shuttle has safely touched down upon solid ground and the thrill of adventure has somewhat faded...you find yourself staring a bit too long into Crosshair’s golden-brown eyes, a cold sweat developing on the back of your neck.

It’s time.

Time to start putting all of your droids in a row, perhaps, though not without praying for a miracle or two.

In other words...you’ve made it. You’re now waiting at the exact place where you’ve agreed to send Omega over, a more than fair arrangement considering her bond with Hunter and Wrecker is a lot stronger than any attachment she might have with either of you. In fact, if this was the average Republic court case and you were supposed to negotiate a custody arrangement for her, naturally, the Troopers with the longest childcare record would probably take precedence above all others.

That does not, however, make it any easier to carry out the second part of your plan.

“Wait till I tell everyone who I found!”

Not when Omega herself is awake again and behaving as though you won’t be rejected by everyone else, never mind flat out shunned for breaking whatever rules had gotten Crosshair in trouble in the first place.

No, instead, she talks and acts like whatever drove him away from the fold simply didn’t happen, a curious habit that you’re not yet sure of whether or not you’d be wise to copy.

“Once we get to Pabu, I can introduce you to all the others, too! Lyana and her dad, Phee Genoa, the two ladies who live down the street—oh, but to Hunter first!”

Hunter first, huh...? Easier said than done, kiddo.

Not only do you have no clue whatsoever on how to respond to this idea, but you’re also unsure as to whether or not you should care about what this one might think of you. To begin with, you’ve heard precious little about him, so it’s hard to figure out if he’ll agree to shake your hand or spit in your face.

Second, as you were, after all, the one who joined up with the one person he couldn’t stand...perhaps he may end up doing just that out of spite.

Or so your wandering thoughts suggest to you.

As to whether or not he’ll give you a shipload of grief for daring to talk to his kid without him knowing about it first...well, that remains to be seen. All you can really do is open the back hatch with a short pull of the lever; wait for the door to fully lower itself; and then step out of the way.

Less than a minute later, Omega’s just about launched herself down the small staircase and out onto the open plain, a loud chuckle rumbling from the safety of the other ship. “Now THERE’S a sight!”

You both are sure to stay out of their field of vision as Omega finds the first of the two, a somewhat loud Trooper who Crosshair names in a whisper as Wrecker. From what you can see right around the door, he might also have a touch of gigantism, if only because he seems to almost take up the whole entrance of his own ship the moment he steps outside.

That, unfortunately, turns out to be the easy part...because once Omega’s reunion with Hunter takes place, you’re both pressing yourselves against the wall for Force knows whatever reason. Maybe he’s afraid to face the music, or maybe you’re terrified of backlash. Maybe you’re just turning your eyes away from everything happening outside, because in that way, you won’t get any second thoughts about going back into the ether.

Or maybe, as long as you stay hidden, it’ll be easier for them to forget all about you.

Regardless of your reasons, though, this is supposed to be her big return home and nobody else’s...so, naturally, you’re not going to be the type of idiot that stands around and ruins the party. Not when you could instead pull the lever to get that hatch door moving, and so move on to getting the engines roaring to life. Not when you could grant Omega her happy ending, at the expense of anything that could have led to your own.

Only...you can’t.

The lever’s suddenly locked itself on the open position, and with it, there’s no pushing it back up again to get it closed.

“Kriff it!”

“What?”

“The stupid door won’t shut!”

You’re using all of your strength to get it to move, yet how Crosshair’s quick to observe, it doesn’t budge so much as an inch.

“Hm...”

Neither will it do anything for his sake, apparently, because he pushes until he almost goes purple from the effort of it...and the door remains exactly as it was before.

“Let me guess,” he mutters with some annoyance, just barely catching his own breath in time.

“You forgot to oil this thing before we left.”

“Well excuse ME, but we were all in a hurry.”

“Oh, of course.”

“What, like you weren’t scrambling to leave, too?”

The two of you glance as one unit toward the open door, a part of your inner thoughts wondering just what might happen if you decided to be the first to step outside. Would you end up using your blaster before anyone else, or would they instead be the first to use theirs upon you? Do you even have the right to force such a confrontation, or would it be somehow better to wait in silence, hoping they lose interest?

“Well...now what do we do?”

Then again...just how safe are you going to be anyplace else, especially with a broken ship? As if to answer your question, there's just silence coming from the outside. No more sound or movement to speak of now, a somewhat unnerving sign that everyone is waiting for you and Crosshair to show up on the gangplank, if not also make your way to the solid ground beneath. Thanks to the great seizing up of the ship hatch, your planned escape would be nothing less than a death wish at this point, as the natural vacuum this would create would suck the both of you out into the open air within minutes, followed by a long drop and a sudden stop.

In other words, there’s nowhere else for you to go but out.

“Guess we’re just gonna have to rough it.”

“Are you sure...?”

“Well, we’re not getting off the ground anymore, are we?”

You accept this idea in silence, the growing lurch within your stomach the only physical reaction you’re willing to admit to yourself. Crosshair’s not exactly the picture of happiness either, as he still has no idea whether or not he’s about to step into an emotional minefield, and if so...just which one of you is about to become the minesweeper.

Nevertheless, as soon as he’s lifting his left hand to reach for yours, the trembling somewhat worse this time than it was when you reached hyperspace...you’re not afraid to accept it with both hands, as you’re already more than sure that you’re about to do this together.

Anything to keep either one of you from cracking under all the stress.

“I’ve got you, Cross. Let’s go.”

This is how you come to descend the steps as one, his injured hand safe and warm inside your own as you go to meet your combined fate. Your steps remain quiet and unassuming, the one-two one-two march the only rhythm you’re willing to demonstrate for something so tense...and then you both look up from the ground toward the faces that await.

For the first few seconds, you make a quiet note to thank Omega later, even if it’s only for the look of hope and support she gives you.

Then you turn your focus to the other two, and it’s here that all promise of a joyful reconciliation dies.

“So this is what the Empire offers in return for complicity.”

The hateful look in Hunter’s eyes makes this all too clear to you in a matter of seconds.

“Free barracks bunnies.”

In its place, there’s a small ache in the pit of your stomach as he shoots daggers in your direction, disapproval and rage just about leaking out of his every pore right before he turns his back upon you. So this is what it’s going to be, then...total condemnation, full stop, and right before you can even introduce yourself.

Lucky me.

“Good thing—escaped—wouldn’t want—these people.”

Your feeling of unease doubles as his words become half cut off, no doubt because he’s both turned away from you and lowering his voice on purpose. The fact of there being thirty feet of distance between your side and his figures into this as well, since there’s little chance of anybody’s words carrying over to you now.

And yet...it’s certainly not an obstacle to seeing exactly what the one called Wrecker thinks of you, for even at this distance, he copies Hunter’s rage to a tee.

Double the luck, then.

“Anyway—say we leave—home—Mantell Mix?”

This can either end in a parting of ways to opposite ends of the galaxy or a knock-down-drag-out fight at this point...and right now, you’re not so sure about the parting idea.

In fact, as crazy as it sounds within your thoughts, you’re almost stuck waiting to see who decides to take the first swing.

“No.”

Then again, once Omega starts walking away from Hunter and back in your direction...that idea of fighting it out also lessens just a little. Funny what a few minutes of conversation can do.

“They didn’t do anything to me, okay? Crosshair helped me steal a ship, and Y/N flew us out on another—”

“—And now they’re nothing but mindless fascists, so—”

“—So I think we can all go back together to the island now—”

“—No, we’re going back to Pabu. They can go ahead and lie in the beds they made.”

It’s just a little unnerving to watch, of course. These two now seem to be in direct conflict where they might have once been working together, so naturally, you won’t even consider fanning the flames. This is why you’re careful not to speak up or interrupt.

“Oh, really? And what about Y/N? Aren’t they also hiding from—”

“I don’t care. It’s not a good idea for you to be out in the open like this...all right?”

He makes a slow movement to nudge her in the direction of their own back hatch, clearly wanting to get all three of his remaining people back on board so that he could put this planet, never mind you and Crosshair, a long distance behind him. Maybe he might have a valid reason or two to do just that, because Crosshair isn’t exactly trying to meet his eyes, either.

“Wrong.”

Then again, it looks like Omega isn’t going to take any of this lying down...because the next thing all of you know, she’s pulling away to stand a lot closer to you. “We escaped Tantiss together, we left the planet together...and I’m not going back to Pabu without them.”

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