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nahoney22 · 4 months

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Underneath the Mistletoe

All Bad Batch Boys X F!Reader

How you had your first kiss under some Mistletoe with your favourite Bad Batcher.

warnings: none, fluff. Mistletoe kiss, non established relationship, female reader. It’s self indulgent icl. Queued post.

authors note: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all! 🎄

Echo 🎄

The day had been long and you just could not wait to hop into your bunk, pull your blanket up to your nose and drift off to sleep. However, Omega's festivities in the Marauder had disrupted your plans. Returning from the market on the planet, she had unleashed a whirlwind of decorations, adorning the ship's interiors in a chaotic array rather than neatly hanging them. "Omega," you sighed, exasperated and pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Everything alright?” Echo had approached you from behind, looking over your shoulder at the mess before you both and you turn to him with a tight smile. “I see...”

“She’s been busy.”

"Busy making a mess," he chuckled. He swiftly joined your cleanup efforts, maneuvering through strewn tinsel and rogue baubles.

Ten minutes or so later, a relieved sigh escaped as you surveyed the tidied surroundings. "I think that's everything."

"Yeah," Echo agreed, scanning the area before his gaze lifted. "Actually, not everything."

Following his gaze upward, you noticed it too. "Oh, Mistletoe," you remarked casually, its presence dangling between the two of you. However, realisation struck a beat later, and a flustered flutter danced within you. "OH. I, uh, I should not be standing underneath it with you," you laughed nervously.

He arched a brow, puzzled at your reaction. "Why? What's Mistletoe?"

"You don't know what it is?" you exclaimed with surprise.

"Should I?" Echo's innocent inquiry showed genuine curiosity, a look that you couldn't help but find endearing.

"Well, Echo," you began, fidgeting slightly in your place, "traditionally, you're supposed to kiss me now."

His eyes widened slowly, and a discernible gulp echoed in the room. "Why?"

Shrugging lightly, you explained, "It's a tradition. I don't know the deeper meaning behind it, but when two people are under mistletoe, they're supposed to kiss."

"Oh, well, okay."

You paused, struck by his response. "Huh?"

"Huh?" Echo repeats quickly, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

This was interesting.

Raising an eyebrow, you pointed out, "You said 'well okay,' implying you were wanting to kiss me."

He froze for a moment before clearing his throat. "I don’t see why not… nobody's here, and, uh, you look pretty tonight."

You chuckled softly at his comment although you were just in your usual attire. "Okay," you said slowly, catching him off guard by taking a small step toward him. "Kiss me, then."

Without needing a second prompt, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a swift yet tender kiss. A breathless sigh escaped your lips as you melted into the unexpected warmth of the moment. The suddenness of it all left you surprised, but perhaps this time, you wouldn’t reprimand Omega for her messy antics; just this once.

Wrecker 🎁

Walking alongside Wrecker after a successful supply run, idle chatter filled the air as you both strolled beneath a festively decorated arch. Among the decorations, your attention snagged on a particular item.

"Look, Wrecker, Mistletoe," you pointed out.

"What's tha'?" Wrecker queried, stepping closer and standing directly beneath it. You held back, smiling as you prepared to enlighten him.

"Whenever two people are under it, you have to kiss, or you get bad luck," you explained, meeting his gaze with a playful grin.

"Oh, really?" Wrecker smirked mischievously, advancing towards you. Swiftly, before you could react, he hoisted you up, initiating an impromptu playful scuffle. Laughter rang out as he teased and taunted, attempting to maneuver you under the Mistletoe while onlookers passed by.

"Stop, Wrecker!" you pleaded amidst fits of laughter, struggling as he continued his playful pursuit, egging you on to kiss some of the people walking past. “You will get a kiss!”

Finally relenting, he released you, and you led him to believe the playful antics had reached their conclusion. Seizing the moment, as his back turned, you attempted to nudge him under the Mistletoe, expecting him to move. However, he remained rooted, not budging an inch.

He turned around with a cheeky grin, teasing, "Try again, little one." Bracing yourself, you nudged him with determination, but unexpectedly, both of you stumbled back, caught off guard.

In a stroke of luck, he caught you before you hit the ground, both of you chuckling as he steadied you. "You alrigh’?"

"Yeah," you replied with a smile. However, as you looked up at him, your eyes naturally fell upon the mistletoe positioned above his head, also looming over you. "Oh… Wrecker?"

"What- oh," he followed your gaze upward, and a sudden hush descended upon both of you.

Despite his hold on you, something in his gaze drew you in. "Don't suppose ya believe in that bad luck thing?" His voice was notably softer now.

"No... not really," you admitted.

"Still," he murmured, taking a small step closer to you, "better not risk it, right?"

"Right."

Then, his lips met yours in a gentle, unhurried kiss, igniting a sudden rush in your heart at the unexpected yet tender moment.

Hunter 🎉

"I appreciate your help with this, I'm not really adept at this kind of decorating," Hunter confessed sheepishly as he delicately arranged some vibrant red tinsel along the control panel.

"No worries," you responded with a warm smile, "I can already picture Omega's face when she sees this!"

"Wrecker too, I'm sure," Hunter added with a matching grin, gladly assisting you by holding a box of decorations while you organized their placements.

Returning to the box after a moment, you paused, catching Hunter's attention. "I think that's everything."

Agreeing with a nod, Hunter noticed something remaining in the box—a decoration that caused a flicker of concern on his face. "Hey, what about this one?"

You recognised what he was referring to—the mistletoe you'd intentionally left behind, following the tradition it held. But Hunter seemed oblivious to its significance. "Yeah, that's mistletoe, Hunter."

"And why can't we hang it up?" Hunter asked, confusion furrowing his brow.

"Because, according to tradition, you're supposed to kiss someone under it," you chuckled, enjoying his befuddlement.

Placing the box down, Hunter inspected the mistletoe curiously. "It doesn't say that anywhere on it."

With an amused roll of your eyes, you took a playful step toward him. "Nope, it doesn't, but it's just an old tradition. A bit silly, really."

Then, the atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension as Hunter gazed at you, a sudden surge of courage propelling him forward. He'd harbored these feelings for a long time, and an intuition of his senses around you suggested that perhaps you shared similar feelings.

"Well, I see no harm in hanging it..." he declared, stepping closer until his chest almost grazed yours, putting the mistletoe on the vent just above your heads, "right here."

Your eyes widened at the subtle yet unmistakable implication, a warm rush enveloping your body. "No...me neither," you found yourself whispering, his presence clouding your senses.

Without hesitation, he closed the distance, leaning in to capture your lips with his in a passionate, lingering kiss that left you both breathless.

As he pulls away, he smiles softly and tilts his head to the side. “I think I might have to take it down,”

You raise a brow, confused, “why?”

“Let’s just say I don’t want my brothers kissing my girl.”

Tech 🎄

“And what can you tell me about the properties of this plant right here?”

You found yourself on Felucia, dragged along by Tech for a resource-gathering mission. Initially, his impromptu botany lesson didn't bother you, but as he meticulously stopped to inspect every single flora, it became a bit tiresome.

"I don’t know, Tech," you grumbled, dragging your feet before stopping next to him to examine a simple, unassuming bush. "Is it a Buxus sempervirens or whatever?"

"Every plant has its distinct classification," he responded pointedly, "and no. There is also no plant called ‘whatever’. It’s Chamaecyparis. Did you know they can grow up to an impressive 70 feet in the wild?"

"Ah, no, I didn’t," you muttered, stifling a yawn that didn't escape his notice.

"Am I boring you?" he inquired, catching your weariness.

You felt a pang of guilt and shook your head, attributing your exhaustion to recent blasterfire and sleep deprivation. "No, sorry. Just feeling a little tired today."

He acknowledged your response, checking his device. "If my calculations are accurate, which they usually are, the ship is just southwest of here. About four klicks to walk."

"Okay, do we have everything we need before we head back?" You took a swig from your canteen, offering it to Tech, who politely declined.

"Yes, the petals we gathered from the flower are what we need for Cid’s client." As you both resumed walking, Tech made an intrigued sound and veered off from the direction of the ship.

"Tech?" You stopped and watched him curiously.

"Just a moment. I'm uncertain about the identification of this particular plant," he explained, engrossed in his investigation.

It was rare to see Tech not recognise something and so your intrigue piqued also but as you approached, you stopped just a foot away and look up at the evergreen shrub with recognisable white berriess. “That’s Mistletoe.”

Holding his scanner up to the tree, Tech turned his head in your direction. "I have not encountered this before. Do you have more information to share?"

"The berries are poisonous, so it's best not to consume them," you began, stifling a soft giggle. "Its scientific name is Viscum album and it's commonly used as decoration during winter festivities."

Impressed by your knowledge, Tech checked his scanner and found your information accurate, prompting you to continue. "You mentioned they're used for decoration?"

"Yeah," you replied, taking a small step back. "There's a tradition that if two people are under it, they're supposed to kiss. Otherwise, they'll receive bad luck." Folding your arms, you awkwardly explained the quirky custom.

Tech paused, studying the berries above him and then shifting his gaze to you. "Ah, I see. That explains why you took a step back." He adjusted his goggles and you couldn’t help but wonder if you detected a flicker of disappointment in his tone.

The air seemed to crackle with nervous energy as you shuffled on your heels, uncertain where the conversation was heading. Before you could find the words, Tech took the lead.

"If you were under this with me, I would have given you a kiss," he stated simply, a hint of confidence flickering in his demeanor, though it waned as your eyes widened at his bold declaration. "Due to it being bad luck, is all."

A smile played on your lips, and you moved a step closer to him, prompting a response. "I thought you didn’t believe in luck."

"I do not," he affirmed. "But I am rarely a man of chance either." Your heart raced as you closed the distance, standing under the mistletoe with him. "But I'd like to take the chance of kissing you right now."

Your hands found their way around his shoulders, fingers gently lacing around his neck, signaling your willingness to lean in closer. "Take the chance, then."

Tech smiled at your boldness, meeting you halfway as his lips met yours. There was a hint of hesitation at first, but as his arms enveloped you, he proved to be an unexpectedly excellent kisser.

Crosshair 🎁

In the midst of the ship's rare tranquility, you had decided to immere yourself in a thorough cleaning session.

Lingering traces of the festivities still loitered about—the occasional stray golden and green tinsel strands and dust of artificial snow, remnants of Omega's discovery of snow in a canister.

As beads of sweat gathered on your brow, you took a moment to survey your cleaning efforts, admiring the progress made. However, your contentment was interrupted by the sight of Crosshair's gear scattered haphazardly in a corner.

Upon closer inspection, it was clear that the usual meticulous upkeep of his equipment had been neglected. Finding no harm in lending a helping hand, you grabbed a crate and seated yourself upon it and dedicated yourself to tidying up his gear.

“What are you doing Missy?”

Crosshair's voice jolted you from your concentration, and you couldn't help but flinch at the sudden sound of his low, raspy tone. Alone with him, you always found yourself a tad flustered in his captivating presence.

"Kriff, you scared me," you breathed out, a nervous smile gracing your lips as he leaned against the wall, towering above you. "I noticed your gear lying here and thought I'd give it a clean. Is that okay?"

"Suppose so," he responded, folding his arms across his chest and fixing his gaze on you. "But why?"

You shrugged, trying to hide your nervousness. "Just saw it lying there and thought it needed a bit of sprucing up." Finishing cleaning one of his pauldrons, you handed him the rag, and he inspected it with a stoic yet impressed expression.

"Are you saying I'm not looking after my stuff properly?" His question made your stomach drop, feeling a hint of nervousness at his insinuation.

"W-Well, no, but—" you stammered, caught off guard.

"Relax," he smirked, setting down his armor piece and gently tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. "I was just teasing."

Caught in a trance by Crosshair's touch, you found yourself utterly captivated, your eyes widened like saucers as you gazed up at him. Oddly enough, you realised that Crosshair seemed to engage with you more than with his brothers or Omega. The thought crossed your mind that he might, just might, be flirting with you.

"Oh, I see," you whispered, feeling the weight of his gaze as he searched your eyes. His demeanor shifted slightly as he cleared his throat and stepped back.

"You did a good job cleaning up in here and with my armor,” he comments.

And admist the serene moment after Crosshair's compliment, you teasingly asked for a "thank you," prompting a rare chuckle from him.

"Maybe," he replied but then moved his finger so it’s pointing upwards. "But you left something."

Puzzled, you followed his gesture and noticed the decoration still hanging—a mistletoe. Maintaining composure, you felt Crosshair's proximity grow, sensing a shift in his demeanor.

"So tell me, did you leave it up there on purpose?" His question held a hint of curiosity.

Seizing the unusual openness from Crosshair, you matched his tone, placing your hands on the crate beside you, meeting his gaze invitingly. "And if I did?" you playfully challenged.

Surprised by your boldness, Crosshair eventually smirked. "I think it means you and I should have a little kiss. Don’t you?"

"Don’t have to ask me twice."

Suddenly, Crosshair drew you up from your seat, drawing you close. His lips met yours in a passionate embrace, a shared kiss under the mistletoe deepening the moment. The unexpected yet cherished encounter left a thrilling yet serene ambiance within the ship, both of you momentarily caught in the lingering sensation of the kiss.

That was better than any other ‘thank you’.

Masterlist 🎄

Tags: @id-rather-be-a-druid @the-bad-batch-baroness s @photogirl894 @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @imalovernotahater @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @mssbridgerton @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet t @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87

#was gonna post this on Christmas Eve but I think we all need some festive cheer #tech bad batch #wrecker bad batch #Hunter bad batch #echo bad batch #crosshair bad batch #clone wars #bad batch HC’s #the bad batch

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freesia-writes · 4 months

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Kitchen Nostalgia with Tech

[Part 3 of Holiday Fluff with The Bad Batch] Dividers by @ve-ti-ver on this post here Word Count: 1.2k, LOL... Tech is always gonna get me goin. ;) SFW, just some warm and fuzzy stuff that will be a composite master post of Bad Batch sweetness. GN Reader.

“This is ridiculous,” Tech commented, unable to tear his eyes from the TV despite the array of baking materials laid out across the counter. The loud laugh track played over raucous clapping as Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra introduced the next number with playful banter, crew workers pushing fake storefronts and houses across a large sound stage behind them. “It’s entirely fabricated, without any attempt to conceal the fact…”

“They weren’t trying to make it seem real,” you giggled, wanting to squeeze him as he groaned at the sight of an incredibly gaudy Christmas tree, dripping with tinsel, being rolled out next. “It’s just… the aesthetic. It’s a variety show. Television was still new, so people were thrilled to see anything really.”

“This is reasonable, however in our current day and age–”

“It’s just nostalgic. Warm and fuzzy. I can’t explain it,” you interrupted, pulling his arm to invite him to finish rolling out the cookie dough. “It seemed like a simpler time… Pure and sweet somehow…”

“Mafia-affiliated crooners singing Euro-centric holiday songs does not strike me as either pure nor sweet,” Tech commented,

Ladies and Gentlemen! Frank Sinatra Junior and Dean Martin Junior!

“The same names?” Tech nearly choked. “First their daughters are introduced as singers, now their sons too? I question the authenticity of the organic talent of the offspring versus the undeniable favoritism from production companies due to their parents’ status.”

“Tech,” you breathed, exasperated at his constant commentary, although you couldn’t really blame

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like you to meet my daughter Deana,” the taller one said. You couldn’t help but start to giggle, hearing Tech’s words in your head before they even left his mouth, and as he spluttered like a fish out of water, the show continued, “And I’d like you to meet my daughter, Tina.”

“The rhyming is just patronizing at this point, and have these performers been evaluated for narcissistic personality disorder? His name is Dean, his son is Dean Junior, and his daughter is Deana?” Tech looked as though he was about to have a conniption, and you couldn’t take anymore. Leaning over him, you grabbed the remote from the counter and switched the screen off, laughing uncontrollably.

“Okay, okay, it’s all ridiculous,” you confessed, a little indignant at his inability to move past all of the shortcomings. “I just like the old stuff sometimes, alright?”

“I apologize if my thoughts are preventing you from enjoying your show,” Tech said, although you could tell he was just saying it because he knew he was supposed to. You stuffed down a little grumble and instead turned your thoughts to the task at hand.

“Let’s just finish the cookies,” you said, pulling out your favorite shapes of cookie cutters while he continued to flatten the dough across the counter. You snagged a small piece from the edge, popping it in your mouth and relishing the sweetness with a single, closed-eyed sigh. His face softened a bit, pushing aside the protests about salmonella risks with a reminder of their statistical occurrence.

The rest of the baking went by with quiet conversation and little brushes against one another, and once the cookies were in the oven, the luscious smell filling the kitchen, it was time for the traditional “waiting drink” – an “adult egg nog”. As you mixed together two mugs and took a long drink from yours, you heard big band music, lifting your head to see Tech turning the television back on, an unmistakable and endearing cringe on his face.

“You don’t have to–” you began, but he waved his hand, turning toward you with a surprising gentleness on his face. He came back over, accepting your mug and lifting his eyebrows after a cursory sip.

“I believe I was overly hasty in my judgment,” he said, shocking you deeply at his uncharacteristic admission. Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra were cracking themselves up now, dancing in over-the-top silliness as they sang a medley of their most popular songs in perfect, playful harmony. You took another sip of your holiday drink, warmed to the core and pleasantly fuzzy.

“It’s alright,” you answered, “It’s not for everyone.”

“But it is for you, and I care about you. Therefore, in a way, it is something I can appreciate as a facet of your personality and interests,” Tech said, taking a step closer. You loved the way he could arrive at wonderfully sweet and romantic conclusions through the process of cold, hard reason. You couldn’t have possibly anticipated his next words, however, as Frank Sinatra began to sing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”. Not usually one for physical touch, he lifted a hand to the outside of your arm, stroking it lightly with a look of resolution on his face as though he’d decided to try something. “Would you like to dance?”

“Dance?!” you blurted out, setting your mug down much harder than you intended. Tech looked concerned.

“It seemed fitting with the–” he explained.

“No, no… I’d love to!” you interrupted, heart warming at the flicker of relief on his typically unfazed face. “I just… didn’t think that was something you’d enjoy.”

“I concur,” he answered matter-of-factly, and you laughed again, a tingle washing over you as he slowly nestled one strong, steady arm beneath your own and rested his hand between your shoulder blades, scooping you into a very rigid and structurally perfect ballroom frame. He took your other hand in his, pulling you into the first step with an impressive blend of strength and grace, and began to step slowly in time to the music.

From now on, our troubles will be miles away… Here we are, as in olden days… Happy golden days of yore…

Buoyed by the warmth of the egg nog and brandy, intoxicated by Tech’s closeness and quiet intimacy, you closed your eyes in utter bliss, guided by his firm leading as you swayed slowly around the kitchen. You didn’t know what had possessed him to try something so uncharacteristic, but you weren’t about to start asking questions.

Through the years, we all will be together…If the fates allow…Hang a shining star upon the highest bough…

You didn’t think it could get any better, but as the song went on, his arm suddenly lowered, the rigid frame that kept you at bay replaced instead with a more snug embrace as he pulled you in against his chest, still clasping your hand in his own but resting it against his shoulder. You nuzzled in, savoring every touch and movement as he leaned his cheek against the top of your head. Holding him as closely as possible, your arm tucked lovingly around his waist, you inhaled deeply, his scent mingling with the baking cookies, and you thought you might burst with joy.

“Thank you,” you whispered, and he pressed a kiss to your hair, deeply gratified by the overwhelming success of his endeavor. He was trying something new, channeling his focus to the senses. The feeling of your body fitted along his own, the slight chill in your fingertips, your steady breathing... He was surprised at the warmth it conjured.

Perhaps he would investigate further.

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