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523rdrebel · 4 months

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When Feelings Aren’t Logical

Tech x Reader (gn)

Warnings: Implied RSD- Rejection Sensitive Disphoria

SFW- Mostly just fluff, Tech comforts reader.

I wrote this for a friend and, with their permission, am sharing here for anyone else who my struggle with what we like to call gremlin thoughts.

Divider by @snotbuggle

You’d curled up in your favorite fluffy blanket, just the top of your head peeking out so you could stare into space. Your thoughts spiraled down, down, into the darker shadows of your mind.

They’ve been different today. Did I do something?

They’re so quiet… Are they mad at me?

Oh my gosh! What if they don’t like me anymore?

What if they never did!?

Were they just pretending?

Am I useless?

Tech entered the room, face down in his datapad. Probably working on something important. When you didn’t greet him in your usual way, Tech stopped abruptly, lifting his head to regard you with concern. He observed your position, curled up in your comfort blanket, the lost expression in your eyes, and he deactivated his datapad, stowing it away safely and crossing the room to sit down next to you. “My darling, what do you need? Have you eaten today?”

It was just like Tech to lead with solutions, knowing how you forget to eat when you’re particularly overwhelmed.

You shook your head and sighed, your heart clenching painfully at his obvious care and affection. You tell him about your thoughts, about how you were afraid that your friends didn’t want you anymore, or worse yet, that they never did. The words spilled out rapidly, panic increasing as you verbalized your feelings, “I just— I can’t help but think that I’ve done something wrong. Or what if they’ve never really liked me at all and they were just pretending? Or what if I offended someone and now they don’t want to talk to me anymore? Did I–did I mess up?”

Tech wrapped you in his arms, giving a gentle, reassuring squeeze, “Hush now, love. If any of your friends were offended by something I am certain they would speak to you about it.”

You could see the gears working in his mind as he formulated solutions for you, it filled your heart with warmth, but did not quiet your feelings, “But– what if they didn’t? What if they were so offended that they never wanted to speak to me again and then I’ve lost my friends and— I don’t want to be alone.”

“Have they ever given you reason to believe that they would not approach you directly? And, my dear, you would never be alone. You have me.” He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, punctuating his point.

“Well no… but I just–”

He nodded, holding up one finger with decided assurance, “If there is no evidence to suggest they would leave you for no reason, then you can safely deduce that they are not upset with you, and they did not leave you. Logically, you know that they still care for you- Correct?”

“Yes, but–”

“But? What further argument do you feel has merit?” His voice was softer, his affection for you made plain.

You sigh, shaking your head lightly, “Sometimes– sometimes feelings aren’t logical. I don’t disagree with you. And I know you’re not wrong here,” You tap your temple, “but there is still this fear inside… It doesn’t always make sense. It’s just how I feel.”

He pulls you closer, sitting you firmly onto his lap where he can wrap you in his arms more securely. He presses another soft kiss to your head, “Hmm. Then I will just have to keep reminding you. And I am certain your friends will as well.”

HAPPY LIFEDAY TAGLIST:

@anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @starrylothcat @secondaryrealm @arctrooper69 @sev-on-kamino @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @dystopicjumpsuit @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @sunshinesdaydream @followthepurrgil @yubnubhub @nahoney22 @jediknightjana @dangraccoon @wizardofrozz @freesia-writes @mythical-illustrator @echoxbuggs @trixie2023 @ezras-left-thumb

#RebelWrites #Comfort Fic #Fluff #star wars #the bad batch #tbb #tbb tech #bad batch #Tech Fluff #Tech Comfort #Warning: Implied RSD #divider by Snotbuggle #Tech x Reader #Tech x Reader GN

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dystopicjumpsuit · 4 months

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I Wish All Readers a Very Hunter Life Day

A/N: This is a gift for @captainpains for the @cloneficgiftexchange Life Day Exchange. Prompt (will be in BOLD RED): "I know I love you and all, but you are really making this really hard for me!"

Pairing: Hunter x Reader (Fem; has hair)

Rating: M (minors DNI)

Wordcount: 2K

Warnings and tags: a minor guilt trip; light Life Day angst with a happy ending; Hunter is in his fratboy era; SMUT; hair pulling; oral sex; rough sex; biting; marking; dirty talk; praise kink; glove kink; armor kink; protected PIV (Reader is on space birth control/STI protection); strong language; fluff

Summary: Hunter may be a bit of a Life Day Grinch, but that doesn’t stop him from distracting you when the war threatens to keep you from spending Life Day with your family.

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Hunter didn’t mean to eavesdrop. If anything, you dropped the eave on him. He stalked toward the Marauder, supplies in tow after a successful run to the open-air market on this Maker-forsaken backwater of a planet. As he approached the ship, his enhanced senses meant he couldn’t help overhearing your low, strained voice—or the fact that you were definitely crying.

“I wish I could be there, but there’s just no way,” you said.

“I just don’t want you to miss your nephew’s first Life Day, sweetie.”

The woman’s voice was unfamiliar, and Hunter slowed down, analyzing the situation.

“I know, Mom…” you sniffled a little bit. “I love you, but you are making this really hard for me. It’s not like I asked to be deployed to an active war zone.”

Hunter stopped in his tracks, frowning. He knew Life Day was coming up, but to be honest, he hadn’t thought much about it. It had always seemed more like a holiday for nat-borns, though he knew some of the regs had started to join in the celebrations since the war had broken out and they’d begun to interact with beings from other cultures.

It all seemed a bit excessive, if he was honest. A whole festival, just to celebrate family? He spent all his time with his brothers. He didn’t need to binge-watch Holomark Life Day flicks and decorate a kriffin’ tree, too—no matter how many times Wrecker asked.

But still. You were a nat-born, and for the first time, it occurred to him just how much of a strain it must be on you to be plunged into the chaos and peril of the battlefield without even having the comfort of your family close by. You’d never mentioned it, and he had never wondered why until now.

He walked up the ramp of the Marauder, stomping a little harder than necessary to give you ample warning that he was back, and he heard you hurriedly end the comm just before he entered the ship.

“Hey,” you said with a forced smile. “Supply run go okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” he grunted, dropping the crate and kicking off the lid.

“Where’s the rest of the squad?”

“Still out,” he replied, moving closer to you and raising his hand to your chin, tilting your face so he could inspect it. “You’ve been cryin’.”

Your eyes widened, and you pulled away. “No, I haven’t.”

He let you go, ignoring your blatant lie. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Nothing to talk about,” you replied, dumping out the crate and beginning to stash the supplies in a cabinet.

He watched you silently for a moment, then crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall, his gaze fixed on your face. “Wanna forget about it?”

You huffed an impatient laugh through your nose as you continued your work. “Why? Did you buy some kyrf while you were at the market?”

Hunter grimaced at your jab, remembering the particularly horrific after-effects of too many shots of kyrf liquor the last time the squad went to 79’s on shore leave. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

“What, then?” You tossed the last of the supplies into the cabinet, then slammed the door and turned to him.

His dark eyes dropped to your lips. “I could distract you.”

You stared back at him in silence for a long beat. You couldn’t possibly have heard him right.

“What?” you asked blankly.

He smirked—damn his stupid, handsome face—and leaned closer to you. You resisted the urge to swallow when he did, knowing he’d hear you. Instead, you put on your grumpiest expression and deflected like a champ.

“I’m not playing sabacc with you again,” you said with a scowl. “You cheat.”

“I just notice your tells. That's not cheating.”

“It is when you have enhanced senses,” you retorted.

“Not like I can turn ‘em off,” he pointed out. “For example, right now, you have a tell.”

You raised your eyebrows but didn’t respond. He reached out and trailed his fingertips up the inside of your wrist, leaning close enough to whisper in your ear.

“Your heart is racing, little one.”

You yanked your wrist away from him. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.” His gaze filled with an intense heat as he stared into your eyes. His face was close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. “The others won’t be back for hours. It’s your call. Tell me to piss off, and I’ll go for a run and never touch you again. Or…”

Your heart hammered in your chest, and you just knew the cocky son of a tube could hear it. Your voice sounded embarrassingly breathless as you echoed, “Or…”

“... or, you could let me take your mind off things.”

You forced yourself to breathe at a normal pace—maybe even too normal; who karking knew? Hunter, that’s who, you thought bitterly. He probably has the whole damned squad’s breathing patterns memorized. You considered his offer, not that it was easy to make a rational decision when he was standing so close to you, smelling goddamned delicious and looking even better.

Gods, his mouth is just. Right. There.

When you didn’t reply after a few moments, he asked, “I think we’ve been dancing around this long enough, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I guess we have.”

Duraplast armor made a surprisingly good handle as you grabbed him and pulled him against yourself. Your lips crashed together. His hands cupped your face and his fingers tangled in your hair as teeth and tongues clashed, your bodies coming together in a desperate, frantic embrace. Your hands scrambled and roamed over his armor as you searched for access that you simply couldn’t find.

You growled with frustration, and Hunter laughed quietly as he kissed his way across your jaw and down your throat. “Why the hurry, pretty girl? We’ve got time.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you hadn’t gotten laid in as many months as me,” you muttered, fumbling at his crotchplate. “How the kriff does this thing work?!”

A telltale zipping sound alerted you to the fact that Hunter was having significantly more success in getting you out of your flightsuit. He tugged it down your shoulders and let it drop down your body, following its progress with his mouth. He reached your compression bra and yanked it off over your head. You had no idea where it landed as he flung it across the ship, but you hoped it wouldn’t be too hard to locate it later.

That’d be fun to explain to Crosshair, you thought with a slightly horrified shudder.

Any concerns you had about your missing undergarment fled your mind about half a second later. Hunter’s lips closed around your nipple, swirling his tongue as he squeezed and teased your other breast, the rough fabric of his glove providing a shockingly pleasurable abrasion. Your head fell backward to rest against the durasteel wall, a hoarse moan tearing from your throat.

Hunter responded immediately, scraping his teeth across your skin, then smoothing his warm tongue over the bite mark. You shivered at the sensation, and he dropped abruptly to his knees, gripping your ass in both hands as he pulled you hard against his face. His tongue slid into you as his lips pressed over your cunt.

“Oh, fuck,” he murmured. “You’re delicious. And wet, holy kriff. So, so wet—”

Your legs nearly gave out, and you clutched his head for balance.

“Goddamn,” he hissed as your fingers tangled in his hair. “Pull it harder.”

You complied, tugging his hair firmly, and his eyes drifted blissfully closed as he leaned close and breathed in your scent. He flicked his tongue over your clit and back into you again and again, alternating between kissing and licking and sucking on your sensitive skin until your legs trembled. Distantly, you heard a clatter of plastoid on durasteel, and then he stood, spinning you around and pushing you forward to lean against the wall of the ship as he gripped your hips and pressed his knee between your thighs, urging them apart.

“Implant?” he asked hoarsely.

“Y—yes,” you confirmed, forcing your brain to focus on the question.

You felt his cock nudge between your thighs, and then he thrust into you, barely giving you time to adjust. His cuisses were cold as they pressed against your thighs, hard against your soft skin, and his hand snaked around your body to cup your breast as he pulled you upright and backward onto his chest. He held you upright as he thrust into you, and with his other hand, he slid his fingers over your cunt, massaging your clit and pressing against your mound firmly. He was still wearing his gloves, and the fabric felt unbelievable on your skin.

“You like it rough, don’t you, pretty girl?” he growled in your ear. “You like it when I use that perfect little pussy, don’t you, sweet thing?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your breath punching out of your lungs as he thrust particularly hard into you. “Fuck, yes—”

He sank his teeth into your shoulder abruptly, and your words cut off in a scream. He began to work his fingertips in tight, rapid circles over your clit as he kissed over your sore, abused skin. That’s definitely leaving a mark, you thought distantly, as a rush of fresh arousal flooded you.

“That’s right,” he murmured smoothly. “Just like that, good girl. Sweet little doll, taking my cock so well. Gonna come for me?”

“Uh-huh,” you groaned, feeling all the muscles in your center begin to tense.

“Use your words, little one,” he whispered, his breath teasing your neck and ear as his teeth closed softly on your earlobe.

“I am—I’m—FUCK!” You cried out loudly as your orgasm tore through you, pleasure exploding from the base of your spine and bursting through your body.

“That’s it, love,” he said, speeding up his pace. “Feels so good—so fuckin’ perfect, such a good girl—where do you want it, darlin’?”

“Inside,” you gasped.

“You sure?” he asked, his hips stuttering slightly as his hand suddenly clenched harder around your breast.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Fill me up.”

“Fu—ah, kriff!” he grunted, thrusting hard, and you felt heat flood your cunt as he spilled into you.

He pressed his hot, open mouth against your neck, sucking hard on your skin as he groaned loudly, clutching you hard against his rigid armor in an almost painfully tight embrace. Slowly, he loosened his grip, reaching out to lean his forearm against the wall in front of you for support.

“You all right?” he panted, kissing your head gently.

“Yeah,” you replied.

“Armor didn’t hurt?”

“No, it was actually kind of hot,” you replied. “I can’t lie, I was kind of hoping to see how far down your tattoo goes, though.”

He laughed quietly into your hair. “Who said we’re finished? I told you the squad wouldn’t be back for hours.”

Two weeks later, the Marauder lurched and dropped out of hyperspace. You glanced up from your datapad, curious.

“Are we back to Coruscant already? I thought we wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow.”

“We require an emergency stop for repairs,” Tech replied.

You looked out the viewport and gasped as you recognized a familiar sight. “Tech, this is my home planet!”

“That so?” A quiet, smoky voice sounded from close behind you. You turned to see Hunter leaning against the cockpit doorway, an inscrutable expression on his face.

“Unfortunately, it appears that every part supply shop in the system is closed to observe the final rotation of the Life Day celebration,” Tech said.

“Shame,” Hunter remarked. “Guess we’ll have to stick around at least until tomorrow.”

You stared at Hunter, and then at Tech, and finally out the viewport at the swirling atmosphere of your homeworld.

“Don’t suppose you know anywhere worth visiting in this system,” Wrecker said with a twinkle in his good eye as he joined you in the cockpit.

Your eyes stung with unexpected tears that you ruthlessly blinked back as you turned to look at your squad, who watched you with varying degrees of interest. Your heart squeezed.

“Yeah,” you replied at last. “How would you boys like to meet my other family?”

---

Want more Hunter x Reader? Check out this fluffy, slightly sexy first kiss ficlet.

#wrecker painstakingly hand-painted the ornaments in the dividers #he's a life day girlie #the reason hunter knows about holomark life day flicks is because wrecker binge watches them every year #the twinkle lights wrecker hung up in the gunner's mount when he turned it into omega's room were from his personal life day stash #clone fic gift exchange #LDE23 #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter #sergeant hunter #the bad batch #star wars #bad batch fanfic #star wars fanfiction #dystopicjumpsuit writes

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questforgalas · 8 months

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Thank you for coming back

Notes: So once again, @zaana's incredible art lived rent free in my head until I put it down on paper. So here's a delightful AU where Crosshair doesn't get sent to Tantiss because guess who gets to him first? Chose to do a rescue from Barton IV because Cross is in his imperial armor in the art, and I thought "Hey, let's maybe give him a break and not make him go through torture before he's rescued?" Neat idea, right? Let's tell Jen and Brad

WC: 3K (lol this was going to be a drabble)

Characters: The Bad Batch (all of them!)

Tags: Wrecker POV (he deserves all the Crosshair reunion energy), angst at the end (Crosshair is going through it ok), hurt/comfort, giant family group hug, Crosshair and Wrecker cry, Hunter is emotional, canon typical violence, implied mistreatment by the Empire (did I mention Crosshair is going through it?), family reunion, all the family fluff I could fit into 3k words

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Read on AO3

The sound of blaster fire was becoming permanent in Wrecker’s ears. Hunkered down behind a duracrete barrier, he kept his DC-17 trained on the Imps attempting to advance on his position, blaster bolts streaming past his head.

“Seriously, who trained these guys to shoot,” he thought to himself, needing to only dodge a few bolts from the barrage while his targets fell with each pull of his trigger.

The landing platform at the depot on Barton IV was looking more like a true battlefield and less like a remote outpost with every passing minute. Two T-4 shuttles lay in smoking ruins - the first thanks to Hunter’s skill on the Marauder’s rear gun and the second thanks to an excellent detonator throw by Wrecker - and stormtrooper bodies lay scattered across the duracrete ground. So far, Wrecker and Hunter were executing their part of the plan perfectly, but when it came to creating distractions, there wasn’t much guess work as to Wrecker’s success rate.

The Batch’s intel told them that the depot, located on a desolate, frozen planet that rivaled Hoth’s icy temperatures, normally operated as a blip on the Empire’s priority list. In fact, blip might have been giving it too much credit. The small clone trooper squad that was assigned to protection detail put in requests for equipment, supplies, and reinforcements throughout their year of service, and every request fell on deaf imperial ears. Gathered from the information Tech found during his hacking, Commander Mayday of the squad put in a request for reinforcements 40 rotations ago, citing that only five members of his squad remained alive at the time the request went in, but Tech couldn’t find any log of a response anywhere in the records. Complete silence from the Empire.

Until 4 rotations ago. The call went out for a platoon of stormtroopers to ready for deployment to Barton IV with orders to transport cargo of high importance to the Empire from the depot to the military base on Coruscant. Prior to the platoon’s arrival, a small squad of clone troopers was sent to scout and ready the depot for the cargo transfer. The squad consisted of two standard troopers and one specialized. One prickly, stubborn, unyielding specialized trooper who Wrecker couldn’t wait to see again.

When Tech caught chatter that a clone trooper shot a commanding imperial officer in broad daylight in front of an imperial depot, he initially intended to send the intel directly to Captain Rex, informing him of another defecting clone who would be in need of assistance, but after he scanned the information log, he didn’t register his datapad falling from his hands, thudding on the floor, only able to to focus on activating the comm on his vambrace, urging Hunter to get to the Marauder as quickly as possible. Because there in front of him, written across the Marauder’s main computer, was CT-9904: Defector. Charged with the murder of Lieutenant Nolan. In custody on Barton IV. Scheduled for armed transfer in two rotations.

The discussion was short - Hunter the only one remaining cautious until Tech confirmed the lack of security at the depot, even with the stormtrooper platoon coming in - and the Batch set their course to Barton IV less than two hours after the message was intercepted. The plan was easy, one the Batch could nearly execute in their sleep, even with their newer blonde addition. Create a distraction to draw the majority of security out into the open which Hunter and Wrecker would engage while Omega provided cover from the Marauder. Meanwhile, Tech and Echo skirt along the edge of the chaos, slip into the depot undetected, locate Crosshair’s location, and extract him while neutralizing any remaining threats if necessary.

Plans 5, 4, and 21. The Batch specialty.

“Wrecker, incoming! Northwest!” Hunter’s smokey voice called over the commotion.

The far gate of the depot opened, ten stormtroopers running out to join the fight. “Yeah, I see ‘em, Sarge,” Wrecker confirmed. “They look excited to see us.”

Hunter took cover behind his barrier, and turned his head in Wrecker’s direction.

“How about you give our hosts a warm greeting?” Hunter suggested, cocking his head to the side. Wrecker could feel the smug smirk under that helmet.

“Gladly,” Wrecker responded gleefully.

Reaching into the pack on his back, he grabbed two thermal detonators, clicked them live, and chucked. They arced into the air, curving in opposite directions, landing right in the middle of the oncoming troopers, and Wrecker watched as all ten stormtroopers disappeared into a beautiful burst of orange, red, and black.

“Direct hit,” Wrecker yelled, pumping his DC-17 in triumph.

Across the way, Hunter gave a quick thumbs up and popped his head above his barrier. Wrecker did the same, confirming that the landing platform was clear of imps for the moment, but they knew more troopers would arrive soon. They’d only taken out about 30 of them so far.

“Agh, where are they,” Hunter wondered, helmet trained on the door they expected to see their brothers emerge from.

“Give ‘em a few more minutes, Sarge. I doubt the Empire just left Crosshair in a set of binders on a crate.”

“They’re dumb enough to,” Hunter said. A soft chuckle came through his modulator, “Wonder how long he’d humor them until he took them all out with his hands still bound.”

“Knowing Crosshair? They wouldn’t even get the binders on him,” Wrecker laughed.

Hunter went quiet, helmet still pointed at the door. Then his shoulders fell like he was bowing to a weight Wrecker couldn’t see. “We’ll have to be patient. He’s…” Hunter paused. “He’s probably not the Crosshair we remember. There are going to be some … invisible wounds.”

Wrecker released his own shuttered breath. He looked down at the ground for a moment, and then looked back up to find Hunter looking back at him. “Doesn’t matter how long it takes. We’ll help patch those up too.”

Hunter remained still for a breath and then nodded.

The silence was interrupted by a chime on Hunter’s comm. “What’ve you got, Omega?” he asked as he activated the connection.

“I’m picking up multiple heat signatures heading our way. Looks like our little break is over,” Omega’s voice chirped over the comm.

“Copy that,” Hunter responded.

Wrecker brought his own comm up to his mouth. “What’s your count, kid?” he asked playfully.

“I’m at 4,” Omega answered, a smug tone floating through.

“Only 4? You’re falling behind. I’m at 18,” Wrecker said.

“I don’t think the thermal detonators should count,” Hunter interjected.

“What?! Did you see how perfectly those landed? Probably my best yet! Not even Tech could pull that off.”

“It’s hardly fair when I’m all the way back here on the Marauder!” Omega argued.

“Excuses excuses, kid,” Wrecker teased. Their debate came to a quick halt when the remaining hangar doors of the depot opened, revealing the last wave of the platoon. “Alright, break time’s over. Shoot good, kid.”

The platform became engulfed in battle once again. Blaster bolts peppered the air. Thermal detonators flew. Line after line of stormtroopers tried to take the advantage on the two ground soldiers and their coverage, but Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega held them back with ease. Wrecker heard General Skywalker speaking to Hunter about something called meditation once - a staple Jedi practice of centering one’s mind and connecting with the force through quiet sitting - and while Wrecker wasn’t sure this would meet the Jedi standard, he imagined this was the closest to meditation he would ever come. Surrounded by the sounds of battle. Adrenaline pumping in his veins. He’d hit a point of focus that drowned everything else out, his mission the only thought in his mind. And he was dam good at it, too.

His DC-17 sang, and he let out a jovial laugh as he took down another line of troopers. As he focused on the enemies in front of him, the squad’s comm channel chimed in his helmet, and the only thing in the galaxy that could divert his attention from the battle in front of him called through the speakers.

“Hunter. Wrecker. We’ve got him. We’re approaching the exit. What’s the status of the platform?” Echo’s voice came through.

For a second, Wrecker and Hunter turned towards each other, both chests rising rapidly with fast breaths not caused by the battle in front of them, and Wrecker knew if he could see Hunter’s eyes, they’d reflect the same bottomless relief he was feeling.

Wrecker forced himself back to the present and provided cover fire while Hunter responded.

“You’re clear to exit. A few imps left but nothing we can’t handle. Wrecker and I will provide cover fire while you cross the platform. Go directly to the Marauder,” Hunter ordered.

Wrecker’s breath caught in his throat when a low, raspy voice could be heard in the background. “No, we thought we’d take a hike in the mountains.”

A hitched breath came through, and in his peripheral, Wrecker noticed Hunter lean his helmet back against the duracrete barrier, shoulders shaking.

“I never thought I’d miss his attitude,” Omega piped in.

That broke the tension building in Wrecker’s head, and a laugh barreled out from his chest. Brain clear and ready to act again, he focused on the remaining stormtroopers trying to hold their ground.

“Omega, get the engines running. We’re getting off this hunk of ice as soon as we’re all onboard,” Hunter finished relaying the orders.

“One more thing,” Tech’s voice came through this time. “I did the scan. The inhibitor chip has indeed been removed, but only after the encounter on Bracca. Crosshair did remove it voluntarily unbeknownst to the Empire.”

“Tech kind of refused to leave the holding cells until he was able to confirm it all. Hacked records and everything here on the depot. That’s what took us so long,” Echo supplied.

“Thank the Maker for Tech, and his stubborn need for knowledge,” Hunter mumbled. He went back on the comm, “Glad to hear it. Now get out here.”

Hunter turned to Wrecker. “Let’s take out as many as we can before they get here. Once they emerge, you lay down cover fire, and I’ll take overwatch.”

“Copy that,” Wrecker replied, and they went to work.

Time that had been passing at light speed slowed to the flow of Mustafar lava. Only ten stormtroopers remained posted across the platform, and Wrecker was determined to clear as many as he could before his brothers emerged.

Another minute passed. Another. Then another. Time was taunting him.

A whoosh floated over the blasterfire. The blasted door to the depot finally opened, and there in the doorway were three bent over figures - two supporting the weight of the third in between them - hobbling onto the landing deck. Wrecker allowed himself one glance hoping it would calm his running mind. Echo took most of the middle figure’s weight, flesh arm wrapped around their waist and scomp arm securing the arm wrapped across Echo’s back dangling over his shoulder, while Tech kept one arm around the figure’s waist and kept his blaster at the ready in the other.

As Wrecker glanced at them, it wasn’t the figure’s distinct all black armor - the armor of the imperial special forces - that identified him to Wrecker. No, it was the tattoo around their right eye. The tattoo Wrecker sat and watched as Tech gave it to them when they were still just cadets. The tattoo that represented their pride in their skill. The tattoo that told everyone exactly which batch he belonged to, front and center for all to see. The crosshair.

Flanking from behind, Tech easily took down three stormtroopers before they made their way down the stairs. The remaining seven stormtroopers barked out orders to fall back, trying to regroup due to the new arrivals, and Wrecker used their confusion to his advantage, taking out another three in one go. Realizing they were outnumbered and outmatched, the remaining four stormtroopers fell back to the hangar, shooting wildly at any target they could see.

Slower than Wrecker would like, his three brothers made their way to his and Hunter’s position across the platform. As soon as they crossed the threshold of their barriers, Hunter stood from his coverage, falling in step to provide cover directly at their backs.

“Alright, Wrecker. Let’s keep these guys pinned as we head to the ship,” Hunter said.

Jumping into position, Wrecker kept a steady pace back to the Marauder without breaking his fire on the remaining stormtroopers. Hunter hit one more as they walked, and Wrecker had his finger on the trigger to take down another when a streak of pink flew over his head and directly into the helmet of his target.

He glanced over his shoulder.

“Final count: 12,” Omega beamed down at him from the top of the ramp into the Marauder.

“Aha! Nice shot, kid! Now let’s get out of here,” Wrecker said, barreling up the ramp into the ship.

The ramp closed up as the ship made its way into the air, and the energy within immediately went still. Tech sat in the cockpit, taking over the controls from Omega once on board, but Hunter, Wrecker, Echo, Omega, and Crosshair remained in the hold.

Crosshair sat in the chair in front of the computer, slumped over, one hand on the armrest propping him while an elbow rested on a knee like that was all the energy he could muster. He was breathing heavy, chest rising and falling as if he’d just finished a training sprint back on Kamino. Wrecker quickly gave his body a once over. Crosshair had always been lithe, by far the smallest body mass of the Bad Batch, but there had been muscle underneath those long limbs that gave any regular clone trooper a run for his money. Now, Wrecker clocked only bones showing underneath the exposed areas his armor didn’t cover, and his cheekbones were sharp above the hollowness of his cheeks. Purple blotched under his eyes, and it was impossible not to notice the deep scar that covered the right side on the back of his head. The scar he received when he took the full heat of a Venator ion engine.

The same engine he tried to trap his brothers in.

“Thank you…for coming for me. I…I wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t,” Crosshair drawled, head bent down. Whether he was unable to lift it from lack of strength or not being able to face the current scene, Wrecker wasn’t sure. His own heart was thudding in his chest, threatening to burst out. He called on every ounce of discipline and self-restraint he learned in his years as a soldier and remained rooted in place, holding his breath. The rest of the Batch stood as still as statues, four sets of eyes on their silver-haired brother.

“You can drop me off at the closest port. You can pick. Doesn’t matter to me,” Crosshair said to the floor. Still, no one else spoke. He raised his head, glancing at each of them. His gaze settled on Hunter. “I…I’d understand if that’s what you want to do. It’s what you should do.”

The five of them felt the Marauder lurch into hyperspace, but still, Echo, Omega, Hunter, and Wrecker didn’t budge. Footsteps approached from the cockpit, and soon, Tech joined them, choosing to sit in the chair across from Crosshair. The silence grew, and Wrecked noticed the crease between the sniper’s eyebrows deepen while his eyes darted around the group.

“Well, aren’t any of you going to say something?” Crosshair asked, frustration creeping into his voice. He glanced around one more time, and finally stood up from the chair, a growl coming from his throat, back hunched like he was ready to pounce, and his gaze locked on Hunter, a finger pointed at the sergeant. “Listen, I didn’t ask you to come get me. I was ready to die on that platform after I shot the lieutenant, and I was ready to die in whatever maker-forsaken place they were going to send me. You hear me? I didn’t ask for this.” He gestured around the room, around the Batch.

“So don’t make me a burden you don’t want. Drop me anywhere. Leave me. It’s what I deserve - oof!”

Wrecker couldn’t take it anymore, and as he watched Crosshair teeter on the precipice of self-destruction, he took two strides towards his brother, and engulfed him in his arms.

Crosshair stiffened, his arms frozen mid-gesture to the side. Wrecker stood there, arms firmly wrapped around Crosshair’s back and shoulders, head dipping to rest on top of Crosshair’s head, and he waited. Eventually, Crosshair’s arms fell to his sides, but his body remained stiff like he wasn’t actually registering what was happening. Then, after a few breaths, his arms slowly rose, one wrapping under Wrecker’s arm and the other circling over his shoulder.

“Why did you come for me?” Wrecker heard muffled into his chestplate.

“We don’t leave our own behind,” Wrecker answered simply.

Wrecker felt the shaking first, then he heard the soft sobs. Tightening his arms, he held his once-lost brother as if challenging the galaxy to try and separate them again. When he felt Crosshair crumble into his chest, he released the grip he’d been holding on his own emotions, and the tears flowed freely. Tears of sorrow for what Crosshair endured. Tears of rage at the Empire. Tears of sweet relief at his family being whole again.

Wrecker felt a pair of arms sneak between his waist and Crosshair’s chest, and when he looked up, he saw Hunter wrapped around Crosshair’s back, arms crushing the sniper into the sergeant’s chest. “We’ve got you, Cross,” Hunter murmured.

One-by-one, Tech, Echo, and Omega joined in, the last squeezing herself into the middle, wrapping her arms around Crosshair’s leg, and even when the sobs quieted, they remained that way. There was a lot to talk about. A long road of trust to regain. They were about to navigate rough terrain. And the past will resurface, in old wounds, physical and not. But none of that mattered right now. In the middle of their home, a family reunited. Unsure what the future would bring them, but ready to face it all together.

#tay writes the bad batch #tay writes #divider by samspenandsword #the bad batch #star wars #hunter #wrecker #crosshair #tech #omega #echo #tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb omega #tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb crosshair

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ve-ti-ver · 7 months

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Dividers!!

Hello! I made some Bad Batch themed banners/dividers for anyone who wants to use them!

If you want to use each character individually, @freesia-writes made some super sick versions for each batcher!

(if you do use these, please remember to tag me!)

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jedipoodoo · 8 months

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hi!!! GIGANTIC congrats on 1,000 followers!!!! i love your work for everyone, but crosshair especially (kiss me slowly might have made me suppress squeals), so i have a request off of your domestic prompts list, if that's okay!!

crosshair and "i agree on us having the window open when we sleep, but i go to close it when i hear you snoring, something that pisses you off when you wake up in a pool of your own sweat" with gender neutral reader, but the (gender neutral) reader is the one that wanted the window open? i'm the kind of person who leaves my windows open well into the winter because otherwise i overheat, so sdlkjgfdlkfjs

if there's a bonus forehead kiss that's absolutely okay :D!

thank you so much!!!

Warnings/Notes: none, just fluff.

This gives Cross so much potential for teasing you sksksksksks

You felt far too hot for your own good. Were you coming down with a fever? The sheets were sweaty and damp beneath you, and when you turned to Crosshair's side of the bed to tell him your observations, you saw him leaning against the window: closed.

"You motherkriff-"

"Language."

"I told you to wake me up the next time you caught me snoring."

Crosshair chuckled and slowly uncrossed his legs, leisurely making his way across the room to your bed.

"Now where's the fun in that, sarad?" he murmured, leaning the bed to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. You tried to catch him for another, but he pulled away with a wicked grin.

"That's it, I'm sleeping on the couch." You swung your legs over the side of the bed and tore the blanket out from under him, "And you of all people know I won't get cold."

You tossed a sultry little wave over your shoulder as you sashayed out of the room, the blanket trailing out behind you like a senator's cloak.

In the sitting room, so often hosting Crosshair's rambunctious brothers on your well-worn couch, you propped the sliding glass door open just a bit. You could never sleep without a blanket, but you also couldn't sleep if you were too warm. The couch cushions were sunken deep in some well-loved spots, and it took you a moment to settle in. With how late it was, it didn't take long before you dozed off again.

When you awoke, you could feel long, lanky arms wrapped around you, and ice-cold feet tucked against the back of your legs. Crosshair's warm breath ghosted across your ear as his head rested against yours, and you wrapped your arms over his.

"Miss me?" You asked.

Crosshair grumbled under his breath, "Five more minutes."

You turned in his grasp, tucking your head against his chest. This was the kind of warmth you would never say no to.

"How touching."

#divider by saradika #I love writing on the way to work #lizart writes #ask lizart #tbb crosshair x reader #the bad batch crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair #the bad batch x reader

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archivistofnerddom · 8 months

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The Bad Batch and Costco headcanons:

Because I have it in my head that they would be the family that needs to buy things in bulk. Once it was there, the headcanons followed.

Hunter

He’s usually the one responsible for their food purchases. The grocery list he takes is long, extensive, and heavily annotated with everyone’s preferences.

The most tired dad in Costco award goes to him. Trying to corral the rest of the Batch is a losing game, so he’s figured out how to divide and conquer, sending everyone out to pick up certain things. (They don’t always follow through with what they were supposed to get though, hence why he wins the most tired dad award.)

He’s willing to stop and try samples though. Hunter needs snacks to get through this gauntlet with the full family. Plus, focusing on food keeps him sane and his senses in line.

Even still, he’s always down to get a hot meal from Costco’s kitchen after check-out. It’s the only time that day the whole family agrees on anything and is in the same place in the store.

He’s usually in possession of one of the family’s membership cards and definitely has one of their debit cards. There will be few surprise purchases on his watch. (There are always surprise purchases on his watch.)

Crosshair

Disappears almost as soon as they walk in the door. He appears out of nowhere to deposit what he wants in one of their carts (because they have many) and disappears again. (Coffee and dark chocolate are pretty much the only consistent items he adds.)

He can usually be found hanging near the check-out lanes with a mountain of coolers and boxes at the ready for when they’re checking out.

It’s an unspoken rule in their local Costco that no one tries to filch any of the cardboard boxes from his horde. Legend has it he will throw hands to defend his stash. Few dare to test that assumption.

The one responsible for ordering food so that it’s ready to eat once the rest of the family is through the check-out line. Don’t ask how he always times it perfectly. It’s a mystery not even Tech could solve.

Unsurprisingly, he usually garners a following of moody teenagers who just don’t want to be there. He gives off the same energy most of the time, even if he’s just trying to catch a nap. It’s a crapshot if Crosshair actually likes that the moody punk kids want to hang with him. They’re just afraid enough of him to ask.

Tech

Tech can be found in the auto section and the electronics section. He knows precisely what they meet and has already shopped the best deals.

He needs several texts and alarms so that he doesn’t get lost in conversation. (Hunter isn’t above sending Wrecker to go re-claim Tech, if he doesn’t show up after a timely fashion.)

Like Crosshair, he’ll just drop whatever non-electronic items he wants (such as snacks and what have you) into the cart after he’s finished his assigned tasks before he disappears. He usually winds up hanging with Crosshair to wait for the rest of the family.

Tech is only sometimes in charge of the family Costco membership card and debit car. He can’t be left fully unattended though, if only because he’ll go overboard with purchases.

Can be used to distract the moody punk kids who want to vibe with Crosshair, while also having Crosshair use his shoulder as a pillow.

Wrecker

He has to go with Hunter, if only because he’s usually on cart duty. (Wrecker also needs to be supervised, or else he’ll grab all the snacks.) Being on cart duty doesn’t stop him from having a great time. He’s that guy who can push the most improbably packed cart with true expertise.

Guess who will still sneak in special treats and surprises for Omega into the cart? This guy.

Wrecker gets geared up for the post-Costco run family meal. He’ll eat an entire pizza all by himself, if left unattended and unsupervised. (Crosshair buys extra for him because of that.)

He’s the most enthusiastic about trying samples and will always encourage Hunter to stop and try. Wrecker knows when his brother needs a break from the chaos.

Wrecker and the Costco employees who run the sample stations always get along. He’s so nice to them and complimentary to them. This is the guy who will always wind up getting extra samples handed to him.

Echo

He’s usually on Omega duty, if only to make sure she doesn’t sneak off on them.

Echo also is usually responsible for stocking up their pharmacy needs and buying some clothes in bulk for the family. With how hard their lives are, getting clothes in bulk is necessary.

He’s always in charge of one of their membership cards and a debit card. Echo is the most responsible one on that front.

That doesn’t stop him from conspiring with Omega to find some fun things for the cart. It’s always something random, but will brighten up their chaotic lives.

Echo is most likely to pass out once he eats though. He’s happy to get off his feet and to have a chance to relax. Walking around Costco takes effort sometimes, especially with his prosthetics.

Omega

Like Wrecker, she makes friends with everyone who gives out samples. She’s the reason why Echo stays fed before they check-out.

Omega would walk out with so many large squishy toys, if she could get away with it. That’s why she and Wrecker can’t be in Costco together and unsupervised. They’d have so many comfy squishy toys and hammocks if they were.

Somehow, she gets covered in stickers and starts sharing them with her brothers. It doesn’t matter where she got them. Omega has stickers books and she shares them. Little kids love her because she inevitably turns into the feral sticker fairy of Costco. (Who knows how the parents to said little kids feel about that.)

Omega is very serious about making sure her brothers all walk away from each Costco trip with a surprise in the cart. She gets sneaky about getting them past Echo and Hunter. (Wrecker provides distractions as appropriate.)

Remember those moody punk kids who were hanging around Crosshair (and inevitably Tech)? Well, Omega chats all of them up. She’s the best person to embarrass the crap out of her brothers with stories. Omega makes her brothers look either way cooler or significantly less cool when she shares stories with the punk kids.

#the bad batch headcanons #them being in Costco together makes me so happy #they would divide and conquer and be chaotic together #star wars #the bad batch #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb omega

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