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#the bad batch fan fic

skellymom · 4 months

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“Who Delt It?”

The THIRD Bad Batch Comedy One Shot in the ONE SHIT SERIES!

To read #2 in the series:

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/740278235151106049/bombs-away?source=share

Background: Five people on a small ship with one bathroom. Need I say more?

Word count: 392 words

Warning: Farts, stinky humor, pretty tame stuff for Tumblr

“Well, I’m ready for a nap!” Echo leaned back in the co-pilot's seat and closed his eyes.

“Likewise. Unfortunately, the Marauder won’t fly herself.” Tech sipped his caf enthusiastically, firing up the ship to take off.

The Batch had just finished a mission on an Outer Rim planet and made friends with the locals there. The locals insisted they share a huge cauldron of stew the community ate together...

...unfortunately, it ran through EVERYONE in the squad by varying degrees and resulted in some...flatulence.

“OOF! WHAT THE KRIFF??? WRECKER!!!” Echo screwed up his face in utter disgust.

“HEEYY, it wasn’t ME!”

“You ALWAYS state that Wrecker. Whomever smelt it is NOT definitive proof of whomever delt it.” Tech pinched his nose while speaking, his voice sounding comical with a partially obstructed airway.

Echo frantically waved the offending vapors away, “BLEH!” More dramatic facial expressions.

Wrecker sat angrily, arms crossed, sulking he had been wrongly blamed.

At that moment Hunter emerged from the fresher, clearly not “privy” to the current conversation, “You know lads, I...” He stopped DEAD, sniffed, coughed, choked, eyes starting to water. “WHAT THE SUN BAKED BANTHA TURD IS THAT???”

“Wrecker farted!” Echo fanned his face and grimaced.

“No... cough...can’t be...cough. Doesn’t have the same smell. Undertones are ALL wrong.” Hunter now had his “Tracker Face” on trying to discern the source of the stench.

“What! You can IDENTIFY people’s farts by their SMELL???” Echo was incredulous.

Tech interjected “Of course. Hunter IS known for his enhanced sense of smell. That is how Crosshair became LEGENDARY for his flatulence. He earned the ‘Silent But Deadly” moniker. No matter what mission we were on, or who we served with: The 212th, 501st, Coruscant Guard, or any other. Hunter never failed to pick out Crosshair with a shipload of Republic ration eating clones.”

Hunter chuckled, “Got to be a game for Crosshair after awhile. Silently drop one and watch all the Regs get mad at each other for stinking the place up. He was proud of it really...but Crosshair ain’t here.” Hunter turned to look at the offending party.

Everyone else turned to face Omega, silently sitting next to Wrecker hand over her nose and mouth.

“SORRY!” She yelled embarrassingly, jumped off the chair, ran to the refresher, and slammed the door.

Wrecker threw up his hands, “GEEZ! I CAN’T CATCH A BREAK WITH YOU GUYS!!!”

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

(Please let me know if you want ON or OFF the taglist. Thanks!)

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momojedi · 2 months

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— LOOK FOR THE LIGHT topic. wip wednesday

type. not sure yet note. bad batch x tlou. i've mentioned my au multiple times not but i haven't really had the chance, time nor motivation to start it ... until now. here's some sibling banter. this plays in a full tlou universe. no space travel. cross and omega are separated from their brothers and are trying to find their way home to them by crossing the states while the rest of the batch searches for them. warnings. none word count. 251

star wars masterlist || pinned post

A piercing whistle broke through the atmosphere. The hound's ears perked up as it rose its head curiously at the sound. Then, its tongue darted out as it panted excitedly.

"Batcher! Here, girl!"

Omega clicked her tongue when Batcher dashed back to her, tail wagging happily. "Good girl," she cheered, offering her the dry treats she'd stored in her pocket. The hound happily licked her hand clean, the hard snacks crackling between her teeth. "These better not be our rations you're feeding her, Omega." Crosshair snarked grumpily as he dusted his hands off. Omega scoffed at her brother. "Of course not," she threw one of the treats at him which he swiftly caught, "It's just some treats." He eyed the dog snack cautiously. With a sly smirk, Omega threw another one. "You should try them - they're for dogs after all."

"Very funny."

With an eye roll, Crosshair lowered his hand to feed it to Batcher which the hound happily lapped up. He pulled his hand back, shaking the dog drool off with a slight grimace. "You should keep the space in your pockets for actual important things, not dog treats," he scolded, "Remember what I told you; the hound can come along as long --" "-- as long as it doesn't hinder our chances of survival, yeah, yeah." Although he couldn't see it, Omega rolled her eyes at her brother's words. "It's just some treats for Batcher, Cross," she smiled as she gently patted the hound's fur, "It won't harm any of us."

#star wars #clone wars #bad batch #clone trooper crosshair #clone omega #tlou au #the bad batch fan fic #the bad batch fanfiction #bad batch fanfic #star wars fanfiction #my writing #other tags:#the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #the bad batch #tbb #star wars clone wars #star wars the bad batch

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vivaislenska · 8 months

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TBB h/c Fanfic my beloved.

Here’s a one shot from a series I started recently called Postcards From Pabu. It’s called “Because We Love You” and it picks up right after Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo break some skulls and bust some siblings out of Mount Tantiss. Pabu's been waiting, and the entire Bad Batch may finally get the victory they deserve… and a giant group hug.

Posted to AO3 here

And I think I’ll share the full text as a tumblr post as well! This was a birthday card for a friend written in June 😊. I plan to start posting more of my writing here on tumblr as I’ve only been using AO3. I’m very passionate about TBB (lol wait could you tell??) and I really hope I’m getting their characters right! I tend to put them in very dangerous situations. But there’s always plenty of comfort to match the hurt I promise!

#star wars the bad batch #clone trooper tech #the bad batch tech #clone trooper crosshair #the bad batch #the bad batch wrecker #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch echo #the bad batch omega #the bad batch fan fic #the bad batch fanfiction #viv fics

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apocalyp-tech-a · 11 months

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An Unusual Alliance : Chapter 62 - Farewells

Excerpt: Tech took Layna by the arms and turned her to face him, wiping her tears away with his thumbs lightly grazing over her cheeks. “I have thought about it as well," his voice a little more shaky than usual. "But the situation has changed. And that is a good thing. We did our part. And we can only hope that others pick up where we are leaving off. Rathorne, Howzer, the Jedi, and the many of the clones that opted to stay. They will be invaluable to all of our old friends on the Krayt.” ONLY. ONE. CHAPTER. LEFT!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! (But it's never too late to start reading if you haven't already, just sayin'!!!) ;D @littlefeatherr

#an unusual alliance #aelfwynn #ao3 #tech the bad batch #tech x layna #tech x oc #the bad batch fan fic #fan fiction #fan fic #totally bonkers star wars love story #bingeworthy

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sinfulsalutations · 4 months

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𝕔𝕦𝕕𝕕𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ ɪɴ ᴡʀᴇᴄᴋᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱQᴜɪɴᴛ, ᴜʜ, ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ʏᴇᴀʜ ɪᴛꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

⋆ ★ *ᴇᴍᴇʀɢᴇꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ʜᴇʀᴍɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴄᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜʀᴏᴡꜱ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ* ʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪ ɢᴜᴇꜱꜱ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

Hunter

Hunter gets overheated/stimulated easily due to his heightened senses so he doesn’t cuddle for very long in pressed together positions.

BUT he likes proximity, being able to hear your breath and heartbeat, seeing every little dimple and curve of your body, knowing you are here and you’re his.

So he will press his head to your chest to listen to your heartbeat and relax with the rise and fall of your chest.

And if you run your hands through his hair you’ll coax the most blissful sighs out of him.

Tech

He’s fidgety, so staying in one cuddling position is a struggle. Always needs to readjust because one spot can get uncomfortable and awkward very quickly.

It gets tedious, especially at night in bed when both of you are grueling to sleep.

However, he’ll try his best for you.

Likes to tangle all his limbs with yours; legs, arms, fingers as your interlock and hold hands, etc.

Also traces and rubs patterns into your skin or over your clothes absentmindedly. You’re his favorite fidget toy.

Might ramble to you. Whether or not you respond and actively have a conversation doesn’t matter to him. He is simply glad that you’re here to listen.

Wrecker

Cuddle bug!

Any free time with you he will actively seek your body wrapped around his arms.

Loves when you sit on his lap on a couch or seat, thighs pressed outside each of his own; he’ll trail his arms up and down your waist, maybe cheekily have a feel of your ass once or twice (sorry, he can’t help himself).

Also likes when you’re just intermingled on his cot, staring up while you talk about everything and nothing.

Wrecker runs very warm, and you might have to push him away from his firm grasp when you begin to sweat and pant a little. Despite his sweet complains and pleads to come back, he’ll let you go nonetheless. But you’ll return to his arms inevitably.

Crosshair

“Why would I want cuddles?” he says, already itching for your touch.

Doesn’t actively seek it out, but god he relishes every time you want to cuddle.

Likes it when you lean your head on his shoulder or on his lap as he cleans his rifle or something else along those lines. It gives him enough mobility to move but still that contact each of you crave.

He might itch for more if he isn’t doing anything with his hands, and may trace patterns onto your arm, shoulder, back, thigh, knee, anywhere that’s convenient and in reach.

Although he’s aware that you like it, he begins doing it mostly for himself. And also, it gives him an excuse to secretly admire you.

Echo

Initially, he’s nervous you’ll feel uncomfortable cuddling with him because of his prosthetics and build.

So when you do express affection and craving for that sort of intimacy, he feels inept.

With more time and trust in the relationship he warms up to it more.

Enjoys wrapping his non-scomp arm around you and encourage you to wrap your arms around his waist.

Will keep his leg prosthetics untangled from yours unless you initiate it.

Likes to plant kisses on your forehead before trailing down to your ear to mutter (sweet) nothings.

His love translates to his cuddling, you quickly discover. Languid and romantic. Though he severely dreads the moment you inevitably separate.

ragu list: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @kimiheartblade @followthepurrgil @wolffegirlsunite @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @aconstructofamind @padawancat97 @littlemissmanga @starqueensthings @anxiouspineapple99 @freesia-writes @wings-and-beskar @clio3kantarella @secretthegriffin @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @dystopicjumpsuit @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @andrakass2 @jesjestraverse @crosshairlovebot @wizardofrozz @dangraccoon @lickylickylicky @captainfresh501 @thebomb-diggity @urmomsmattress @jedi-hawkins @who-would-want-a-broken-heart @cw80831 @bluebird-dreams @ladyzirkonia @multi-fan-dom-madness @moonlightwarriorqueen @eyeluvmusic21 @mythical-illustrator @a-single-tulip

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starqueensthings · 3 months

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Dork Love: Part Four

chap1 | chap2 | chap3

Pairing: Tech x GN!reader (can be read as ND!Tech x ND!GN!reader if you squint)

Summary: never thought I'd see the day, but here is the final part of Dork Love! Things happen, questions are answered. I won’t say any more for fear of spoiling things. Make sure you’ve read the previous three parts before proceeding.

Rating/WC/POV: Teen+ readers, but no real warnings. 7847 words (I hate myself too, don’t worry). 2nd POV but from Tech’s perspective.

A/N: thank you to the always lovely @staycalmandhugaclone for proofreading, and for reminding me that unstiflable, as much as I’d like it to be a word, is not LOL like “so fetch” it just ain’t gonna happen!

That autonomic demand to narrow his eyes was irrepressible, and the onslaught of light pouring in through the open door dazzled him to near paralysis as he stood in the shadows, pistol raised and poised to fire blindly if or when the situation required. But even through long lashes near-opacifying his vision, Tech’s astute mind instantly noted the familiar, swaying cadence of the figure stepping through the threshold, its movements much less hurried and frenetic than his sergeant’s broad-shouldered, deliberate strides would have been as he hastened to provide backup. In that subsequent second, as Tech’s eyes screamed in protest and the alleged assailant stepped delicately atop that worn wood floor, a cresting wave of unadulterated relief and realization crashed into his heaving chest and forced the bated breath from his lungs.

“Thank the Maker,” he exclaimed as he attempted to swallow the panic that had taken up residence in the back of his throat.

His feet took him urgently toward you, stowing his pistol in it’s holster with a deftness that his trembling hands should not have possessed, and the now-redundant flashlight fell with a thud to the floor, spinning away to uselessly brighten a forgotten corner as he closed the space between you and flung his arms around your shoulders.

The startled gasp that escaped your lips at the unexpected movement went ignored. He spared no consideration for the way your arms balked against the restriction of his unexpected embrace; your choked and stuttered demands for distance and clarification registered even less in his mind than your obvious sense of alarm. He would explain after… He’d offer a million apologies in just a minute… What mattered most to him in this second was that you were safe— you were there in front of him unailed, injury free and not bludgeoned to death by the bloodied hammer still imprinted in his mind's eye.

“T— Tech?!” you stammered, the futile attempts at tugging your arms free creating barely enough leverage to tip your head back and peer upward at your captor. “Is that you? What— what are you doing here?”

“You are alive,” he spoke, seizing the brief opportunity that your acknowledgement presented and retightening his grip around your shoulders.

“Of— of course I am?” you answered, the snort of incredulity almost completely muffled by the power of his embrace as you slowly reciprocated his affection by encircling his narrow waist. “How did you get in here?”

But your behest for an explanation once again failed to pull even a fragment of reasoning from his lips, that brilliant mind utterly failing in its feat to process the emotional undulation of your perceived murder, and he hung his head silently into the gap above your shoulder, greedily breathing in the same scent he’d spent countless mornings trying to imagine were in the bunk next to him.

“This doesn’t look like any ‘perilous and life-threatening event’ that I’ve ever been a part of.”

Hunter’s amusement, while somewhat muffled by the modulator in his helmet, was entirely apparent in the small chuckle that followed his quip. Tech snapped his head toward the door, the intrusion he’d utterly forgotten was on its way taking quick advantage of the adrenaline still doping his blood and setting every inch of his akin aprickle. Yet… having your form pressed against his in that quiet moment of long-anticipated reacquaintance had embedded him with a need for you equally as powerful, and releasing you from his clutches felt oddly like he was willingly permitting a limb to depart his body.

“Who— who are you?” you voiced as you turned toward the door, shielding your eyes with the same hand that had last been the recipient of Tech’s converged affection.

“Hunter,” the sergeant chirruped, boots treading thoughtlessly atop that trail of morbid, red breadcrumbs as he crossed the room and extended a hand. “Glad to see you’re not dead.”

“Why would I be dead?” you asked as you shook his hand, a very potent confusion still swaddling every word that left those lips.

“Good question,” Hunter chuckled, tipping his head forward slightly to pull that painted plastoid bucket from his head. “Can’t say I have an answer. Tech was losing his marbles about a limp fickle tree or someth—?”

“Ficus,” Tech interrupted, feeling a fresh surge of embarrassment rise to his already heated cheeks. Those frenzied emotions… the atypical and unbridled panic from mere minutes ago was being quickly usurped by a coursing regret for the composure he’d altogether abandoned the minute your safety was in question.

He cleared his throat and shifted his goggles on his nose, shying away from your inquiring gaze as it returned to him. “My apologies for the infiltration,” he continued, readjusting his helmet needlessly under his arm. “My brother and I returned with every intention of completing the required electrical repairs, only to find the premises looking uncharacteristically derelict. Regrettably, I had no means of contacting you, so I permitted myself entry hoping to affirm your safety, or collect clues to identify the assailant.”

He chanced a glance in your direction; the way your wide eyes darted intently yet curiously back and forth between his instantly threatened to steal the justification still poised on his tongue, and watching your lip disappear between your teeth saw the battle against that implacable itch to reach for your hand vigorously resurrected.

“There was undeniable evidence that harm may have come to you,” he offered, reaching instead for his datapad and tipping the screen toward you. “My scanners indicated blood of a human origin splattered in several places, with a significant percentage of it congealing atop the handle of a hammer still perched in the sink. Objectively, all access points to the establishment appeared to have been boarded to prevent any external supposition, eliminating any obvious need for an investigation. Your beloved flora was presenting with several signs of neglect, and I noted a discarded caf beside the computer that my scanners confirm has been sitting undisturbed for nearly two dozen rotations.”

“Ew, what?!” you exclaimed as your expression shifted abruptly from concern to disgust, nose scrunching as you peered over your shoulder toward the counter.

“Is that what that smell is?” Hunter queried under his breath, his throat bobbing heavily as if trying to steel himself against the cresting heave in his stomach.

But the notion of the abandoned dish and its putrid contents didn’t befuddle you as it had Tech, instead he watched your eyes soften and roll before an incredulous scoff huffed from your nose.

“Figures,” you groused with a small shake of the head. “He has the wherewithal to put a bloody hammer in the sink but not the dirty mug.”

Tech paused, your grumbled words failing to establish even a scrap of sound reasoning in his already overladen mind, and the slight cock in Hunter’s brow as he turned to glance inquisitively at his brother clearly indicated he was equally as confused by your insufficiently explanatory grievance.

“Who’s ‘he’?” the sergeant asked on their behalf.

“My father,” you answered with another disgruntled roll of the eyes. “I asked him to come here and seal the place up for me.”

“Your father left this carnage?” Tech posed, unable to keep the bewilderment from his voice. “How peculiar.”

“But… why?” Hunter added.

“It’s a long story,” you replied, failing to conceal a large yawn with the back of one hand as the other stretched high above your head. “And I’ll happily tell you the whole thing once I get some caf in me. Give me a few minutes to turn the power back on and then we can catch up.”

The first twinge of an adoring smile tugged at Tech’s lips as he watched you first heave a preparatory sigh before squaring your shoulders and reaching for the handle of that soiled mug. With your nose pinched tightly between your fingers, and your cheeks expanded to their full capacity under the strain of a held breath, you carried the dish at arms length and retreated to the back door. Tech watched you go without even really seeing you… eyes unfocussed, mind spinning tirelessly. It seemed wholly impossible that attempting to ascertain his feelings for you during their trek along that sunlit pathway had rendered him so uneasy that he nearly faceplanted; then mere seconds later, he’d hurled headfirst into a panic so foreign and inexplicable that even Hunter, his most astute brother and the person who likely understood him most in this galaxy, had difficulty navigating Tech’s discombobulated fears. Now here he stood, the ravaging tornado of emotions spanning the last half an hour, only a thing of the past. His mind, instead, brimming with nothing but absolute certainty of his affection for you, and it wasn’t until (“...oof!”) you tripped over the long-abandoned spools of wire and nearly slooped that rancid liquid all over the floor, that a distant glimmer of reality returned to him, and he hastened to retrieve the discarded flashlight and hand it over to you.

“Was that a hug I just saw?” Hunter jeered, knocking his fist against the dome of Tech’s shoulder the second your figure vanished into the enshadowed hallway.

The genius soldier did not answer, offering his brother a mildly embarrassed, reproachful glance before shifting his attention to the device in his hands.

“You know Tech,” the sergeant persisted, keeping his voice tactfully low. “You’ve pulled some really impressive tricks out of your arsenal over the years, but I don’t think I’ve ever been more impressed by you than I am now.”

Tech let his brother's indirect praise wash over him, turning his response over in his mind several times. “It is most peculiar,” he uttered quietly to the screen as the lights flickered into life overhead, “That simply the notion of this companionship can trigger such dichotomous sentiments.”

“What do you mean?” Hunter queried as he stepped toward the front door and pushed it closed.

“Well… it seems implausible that one individual could initiate both anxiety and comfort in another, as they are contradictory emotional responses that otherwise do not theoretically coincide.” Tech kept his eyes pointedly downward to the illuminated device in his hands as he spoke. “How is it that my fear for the safety of another is rendered so paramount, that the notion of having lost said person clouds the judgement in which I hold in such high regard, particularly so when the person in question is one of whom I hardly know? Yet, the moment I deem their safety established, I am overcome with a protective urge so robust that I would unquestioningly forfeit the use of my limbs if encircling them promised a shield from any potential harm?”

The momentary silence that ensued post-confession was undoubtedly amplified by the recent extermination of fracas from the outside world, yet nothing reverberated louder amongst the walls of that dusty shop than the proud pause that proceeded Hunter’s answer, the smile doming his inked cheek as he stepped back toward his brother entirely missed by the genius still staring deliberately downward.

“I don’t know,” the sergeant answered slowly, placing a discerning hand on the top of Tech’s shoulder. “Feelings are powerful things… I guess we don’t give ‘em enough credit.”

“Indeed,” Tech agreed as he finally lifted his gaze, eyes flashing as he peered at the space where you were due to appear at any moment…

“Hunter?” he added quietly as a thoughtful silence reemerged.

“Yeah, ‘vod?”

“I do not think I will ever tire of this ‘feeling’.”

Hunter’s response was stolen off his tongue by the squeak of old hinges as you pried that back door open with the toe of your shoe, reappearing moments later in the doorway with a green mug held carefully in one hand and a clear glass of water in the other; the way your lips pursed and hitched to one side as you focussed on maneuvering toward the counter without spilling either liquid, rearousing the tingle under Tech’s skin.

“What’d’ya say we pull these boards down?” Hunter spoke loudly, clapping his brother on the arm before turning to face the obstructed windows.

“That would be fantastic,” you said, carefully depositing your steaming mug beside the computer. “I’m handy enough in my own right, but I don’t trust myself not to pull a ‘Dad’ and take a finger off trying to get them down.”

“It’s not a problem,” Hunter answered, dismissing your comment with a wave of his hand as he crossed the room and debated which of the wood panels to dismantle first. “Tech, let's start with the one on the right—”

But Tech heard none of his summons, too enraptured with the charming crease between your brows as your concentration shifted toward your drooping plants, hands lovingly tipping that glass of water into the clay pot housing your limp, little tree.

“—and then we’ll just go along the front and rip 'em down one by one. We can stack them in the corner out of the way for now. Ready? Tech…? Tech.”

“Coming.” Tech wrenched his gaze from you and hurried to meet his brother next to the furthest of the boarded windows.

“I’m a little alarmed at how easily you broke in,” you admitted with a smirk as the duo trod past the counter moments later, carrying the first the half-dozen bulky boards between them.

“It was quite simple,” Tech offered, lowering his end of the board to the dusty floor in the corner and keeping it stable while Hunter tipped it against the wall. “With the correct tool and the appropriate leverage, one can deactivate such an unsophisticated deadbolt system with relative ease. If the security of your store is of utmost concern to you, I would recommend installing a mechanical upgrade; one that permits only those who carry an individually coded microchip to ent—”

“What’s with the boards anyway?” Hunter interrupted, leading his rambling brother back toward the windows.

“I, uh… I was on Ryloth.”

The soldiers froze, hands stalling in their feat of tugging the next of the boards down while they exchanged fleeting, dark looks. “Ryloth?” Hunter repeated. “In the middle of a war? Hmm… that’s kinda—”

“Kinda risky. I know,” you agreed, looking somewhat crestfallen as you perched your chin in your palm and gazed listlessly out the now transparent window. “In my defense, the war hadn’t really reached Ryloth when I bought my ticket. Though, admittedly, I would have gone anyway with the situation being so dire. Those poor kids… Maker, I feel for them. And it’s only going to get worse as access to medical supplies gets increasingly challenging…”

Hunter looked back at Tech and raised his eyebrows, confusion etched into every superficial line of that tattooed face as he readjusted his grip around the edge of the wood panel and tugged it free of its shoddy adhesion.

“Are you being intentionally vague?” Tech voiced innocently while shifting his goggles on his nose. “Or have I simply overlooked a myriad of implied details?”

“No,” you snorted, glancing at him with an unexpected affection and igniting a blush to his cheeks potent enough to force his gaze away from you again. “Sorry, I’ll backtrack a little…” As you picked your head out of your palm and perched yourself, instead, in the desk chair behind the computer, Tech reached for his end of the nearest board and gave it an assertive tug. “About a month or so ago, an impoverished family came in here looking for some help. There were these three kids– cute as a button, but losing their eyesight pretty rapidly. Their mom has a degenerative visual disease that the kids ended up unknowingly inheriting, and Dad was at-a-loss for what to do. There’s no cure for the condition itself, but I told them I’d make some glasses for them that would help preserve the vision they had left. I tried to expedite the process as much as possible, but they fled the planet before I could finish.”

“They wouldn’t stick around for free glasses?” Hunter asked incredulously, eyes attuned to the floor below him as he walked carefully backward to the corner where they’d stashed the first panel.

“Their situation was pretty destitute,” you answered sadly. “Anyway… once their glasses were done, the only option left was to hand deliver them, as I don’t particularly trust inter-stellar couriers anymore with all the rampant piracy these days, and… well, part of me has always wanted to do some missionary work. Unfortunately, it was barely an hour after my shoes hit the sand outside of Lessu that the blockade was implemented, and all public transports were barred from entering or leaving the system. So I—”

“You’ve been trapped on Ryloth!” Hunter groaned. “For weeks!”

“That explains the fetid caf,” Tech chimed.

“Please don’t take this as a complaint,” you continued quickly. “Being on Ryloth and living with that family was an unforgettable experience, and one of which I would never have been granted the opportunity, but… I was more than a little worried about this place; this level of the Undercity is notorious for petty theft and pickpockets thanks to its proximity to the lifts, and the affluent clientele that trickles in from the surface one level above. A few days after I landed, I managed to get a transmission back to my Dad and asked if he’d come and secure the store until I could figure out how to get back, but… I think I might have drastically overestimated his handyman skills. He admitted to me afterward that a poorly-aimed hammer strike had done some damage to both his left thumb and my floor. He conveniently didn’t mention he was growing a mold farm in my favourite mug.”

“Any substantial trauma to the thumb could prove detrimental,” Tech spoke up, tipping the second board on top of the first. “The thumb houses several primary vascular bodies including the Princeps Pollicis, a major artery branching from the deep palmar arch. If the artery itself has sustained enough significant external force to cause a secondary dermal laceration, it has the potential to elicit substantial blood loss, not to mention warrant a possible surgical repairment.”

“And that explains the mess,” Hunter agreed, pointing toward the puniceous trail still adorning the floor beneath their feet.

“Mess is an understatement now that I’m looking at it,” you chuckled. “I’m still not sure if I want to thank him for helping me or invoice him for all the cleaning I’m going to have to do before I can reopen this place.”

***

It took just shy of an hour to remove and rehome the barriers your father had inexpertly installed, and the welcome addition of the dazzling sunlight through the now-unobstructed (albeit dusty) windows had the store feeling nearly exactly as Tech remembered. As he and his brother trod back toward the counter, dabbing droplets of sweat from their brow with the backs of their hands, the Ficus Elastica on the counter stood proudly erect in, what appeared to be, its own personal ray of sunlight.

“Thank you so much,” you sang as they approached, the grin atop your lips challenging that bright celestial body in the sky for its title as the most radiant entity in the galaxy.

“Not a problem,” Hunter answered as you hopped out of the chair and walked around the counter to meet them. “If the panels are still here the next time we’re planetside, I’ll get Wrecker to come rip up 'em and throw ‘em out back for you.”

“That’d be great,” you nodded eagerly. “He’s the only one I haven’t met yet.”

“Actually speaking of…” he continued, “I should check in and make sure Crosshair hasn’t lost his temper and used him for target practice. Gimme a second and then we can start the wirin–”

“I can manage.”

His interjection was abrupt, slipping off his tongue nowhere-near as passively or nonchalant as he’d intended when Tech opened his mouth to reassure his sergeant, and the responding look on Hunter’s face readily confirmed that Tech had also failed to conceal that burgeoning need to be alone with you. But he was fighting a losing battle; the trio stood only inches from where he’d first wrapped his arms around you. Despite continuing to dodge each other’s bashful glances, the near-irresistable urge to grab your hand and wreath you with his arms hadn’t left him since releasing you, and he was more determined than ever to swallow that ever-plaguing apprehension and physically communicate how much you’d been on his mind since your last encounter.

“I am capable of completing the installation without assistance,” he added politely. “And Crosshair was particularly irascible this morning despite having acceded to his demand that I park the ship in an area of complete shadow, so the need for a supervisory presence is likely heightened.”

“Shadow?” you interrupted questioningly from Tech’s elbow. “What does he have against daylight?”

“Hurts his eyes in the morning,” Hunter answered offhandedly. “You sure, Tech? We lost time with the whole ‘possible-murder’ thing. Think you can tackle it alone?”

“I will not be alone.” He glanced fleetingly in your direction before swallowing.

Hunter hmph’d quietly, mimicking his brother and glancing your way as his lips twitched against the impish smirk he continued to stifle. “Well alright then,” he conceded, returning his brother's mildly guilty look with a rather knowing one of his own. “I'll leave you two to get… reacquainted. Just don’t abandon your comm again; there are no ‘unscheduled breaks’ from war no matter what you say.”

“Thank you for the help,” you said, extending a hand toward the retreating sergeant. “And for making sure I’m not dead.”

Hunter offered you a smile and a respectful nod before his face disappeared behind that painted plastoid again, and he made his way toward the front door. Distant, yet raucous laughter filled the shop as he pulled the door open and stepped over the threshold.

“Oh… and don’t forget, Tech,” he added, the visor of his helmet poking back around the door unexpectedly. “We’re leaving for Felucia at first light tomorrow. Midnight curfew.”

***

As you locked the door behind the departing sergeant, Tech stooped and collected the coiled wires from the floor, tossing them over his shoulder before following in your wake toward the sanctity of your workshop. Despite your established safety, he couldn't prevent his eyes darting toward that large aluminum basin as the kitchenette passed on the left, the tool that had so-instantly horrified him now scrubbed clean and leaning benignly against the side of the caf maker to dry. The moldy mug, however, was nowhere to be found, though the peculiar addition of a small, tightly tied garbage bag sitting on the floor by the fire exit had Tech near-certain he’d never see that red ceramic again.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you offered as you veered right into the fabrication lab, the slight chuckle beneath your words recapturing Tech’s attention. “It seems that’s a habit I’ve unintentionally fallen into. First I gave you a heart attack about your goggles… then this. I’m regularly quite the bore, I promise.”

Tech bit back the retort on his tongue as he stepped through the doorway— you, a bore? Well that seemed even less likely than Crosshair dropping to his knees and begging them to forgive his abhorrent attitude.

“An apology is not required,” Tech spoke instead. “It would appear that I jumped to an inaccurate conclusion upon arriving here to find you missing. It was a most uncharacteristic overreaction, and one from which I now-suffer a great compunction.”

“Compunction?” you repeated, brows furrowing at the implications of his confession as you reached gently upward and began to lift those heavy coils from his shoulder. “Why?”

Tech hesitated for only a breath, watching your nimble fingers blanch under the weight of the wire as you took it from him. “Well… several years of advanced training and exposure therapy have rendered me effectively inured to a multitude of scenarios that others may deem distressing,” he divulged as something near concern wiped the smile from your lips. “Yet, I failed to maintain control of my emotions in the face of your disappearance. I became largely inexorable, making objectively impetuous and questionable decisions.”

“Tech,” you uttered in little more than a consoling whisper, his stomach lurching as your free hand collected his from somewhere near his hip, those slightly chilled fingers weaving their way in between his before the soft, consoling brush of your thumb nearly weakened his knees. “There is nothing to regret. Worrying about someone is nothing to be ashamed of, and arguably even less so if that person is someone you care greatly about. In fact, an initial surge of panic followed by attempts to verify their safety is likely the expected psychological response to such concerns. You walked into what looked like a very foreboding situation and had no data to disprove your suspected theory.”

“I suppose that is correct,” Tech shrugged, dropping his gaze to the toe of his oily boot, “Though it has been several years since I last studied the sympathetic subsection of the autonomic nervous system in response to traumatic stimuli.”

“Sounds like an interesting read,” you mumbled through a sarcastic smile that prompted the return of his gaze. “Tell me– if the same situation presented itself again, would you not react similarly? Would you not do everything within your power to make sure that someone was okay while everything around you was telling you they’re not?”

“Of course I would.”

“Then that’s that,” you answered simply. “There’s no reason to regret your actions, just like I don't suffer any contempt for getting myself stuck on Ryloth. Making the trip there was the best and potentially only solution based on the information available to me at the time. Things went awry… and that’s okay, because we should always do what our gut is telling us to do when it comes to things and people that we care greatly about.”

And there it was: that intemerate benevolence that he wholly adored about you, reemerging to knock him over the head with a validation that he’d never experienced before… and the subsequent moment, as his eyes locked on yours and his grip on your hand tightened, he felt truly seen as himself. Not Tech the highly-skilled soldier… not Tech the ingenious mechanic responsible for keeping the GAR’s most elite squad in the air… not Tech the pilot who loved his datapad above all else and never slept. You saw Tech… accepting and welcoming him as he is; validating his infrequent displays of vulnerability as if humanity was something he could and should experience first hand without fear of persecution or judgement.

“Oh, and don’t think I didn’t catch that,” you added, brow shifting into a devious arch as a playful smirk tugged at your lips.

“Catch what, exactly?”

“The oxymoron you dropped in there: ‘found you missing’. Someone can’t be found and missing, hun. But keep dropping them– I’ll catch ‘em every time.”

Was it that teasing smile, or the enamoring, little puffs of air that escaped your nose as you snickered in the wake of your own coy intelligence? Or could it be the way your gaze kept darting from his eyes to his lips, that had him feeling as if he were suddenly hovering? The ground had, at some point, simply disappeared from below those smeared and blackened boots– vanishing into nothingness with everything else that had previously encircled them underneath those dim, humming lights. There was simply nothing but your hand interlaced with his. Nothing but the soft flutter of your eyelashes as they danced with every subtle shift in your gaze, and the unobtrusive quiet of an empty building that promised no foreseeable interruption. Every unhurried second ticked into the past by the chrono on the wall saw him pulled toward you by a force presented to him only once previously– when he’d boldly adorned the back of your hand with the same gesture that he longed to press to your smiling lips.

But… did you want that? Was your heart also hammering heavily in your chest, threatening to send the room spinning more than it already was? Were you as captivated with his eyes as he was with yours, letting that effulgent twinkle dazzle him like the radiance of hyperspace did? Had the last month also seen you seeking out moments of solitude, keen to forgo the mundanity of the present in favour of vanishing into the memory of him? The memory of an utterly ineffable connection?

Or were you standing there watching his eyes flutter closed, wondering what in Maker’s name you’d done in your past life to warrant having to endure such an awkward encounter? Was your mind frantically trying to find the words to politely reject his bold advance? Were you desperate to yank your hand from the clutches of his clammy gloves, and assert that he simply complete the required electrical repairs and then vanish indefinitely?

That sabotaging little flitter of doubt was enough to have Tech leaning backward, eyes opening to their full extent and quickly darting toward his boots while he reached for his goggles and shifted them needly atop his nose.

“Tech?” you whispered as he pulled his hand from yours, stowing his gauntlet comm in the pouch at his thigh before tugging at his gloves.

“I should initiate the electrical deconstruction,” he muttered as his face burned, pulling his datapad from its holster and bringing it to mere inches from his nose. “Can you please deposit those coils in the corner underneath the panel?”

“Sure.”

The sigh that preceded your curt answer was near deafening, circling around that quiet room what seemed to be half a dozen times before it dissipated into the now suffocating quiet. And while that soft huff of exasperation had near-tortured him, it was the unbridled disconcertment wholly engulfing your reply that stole his attention back from his device, and he watched with a sense of suppressed horror as your face fell rapidly into, what looked to him, an expression of dispirited chagrin.

***

Tech spent the next several hours near-furious at himself. Thoroughly incensed that his body never failed to repeatedly fall into the encompassing urge to physically connect with you whilst his mind remained downright incapable of elucidating the veracity of his perception, and infiltrating every modicum of that surging desire was an equally powerful right-hook of uncertainty.

Chiefly infuriating was your continued, unwavering kindness; he could barely stomach the ever-gracious way you offered to help him at regular intervals. Truthfully, he’d like nothing more than to have you hovering at his elbow for the entirety of the process, handing him whatever tool was required to progress the installation and witnessing him do what he truly did best while he chattered endlessly about the importance of matching the electrical capacity of the wire to its respective fuse. Yet, every time his eyes met yours, he was harrowingly reminded of his close shave with humiliation; reminded of the sheer confusion he’d seen behind your eyes as he pulled away from you, and your persisting geniality had him nearly-suspicious it was nothing more than a front upheld until the work was complete.

For the sake of niceties, and as a measly effort to atone for his self-proclaimed embarrassing behaviour, he accepted the glass of water you’d offered him shortly after he began the labour-intensive work, though despite the layer of dust gathering in his throat with every inhale, it sat untouched on the counter beside the lens generator.

He took his frustration out on the task at hand, snipping wire casings with an unnecessary gusto and scowling anew with each new electrical breaker that he clicked into place, but it seemed no degree of mechanical tinkering could distract him from the resentment coursing through him. Even the addition of a small radio, churning out happy-go-lucky, intraplanetary hits every couple of minutes was no match for his morose mood.

“Tech?” he heard you probe from the doorway several hours later, as he stooped over the sink in the kitchen and began to scrub the grime from his hands.

“Mmm?” he answered, ignoring the prickle erupting on the back of his neck at the sound of his name leaving your lips. He felt you approach, listening to the muted scrapes of your shoes on the floor as you neared, casually leaning against the counter in his peripheral vision.

“My brain might still be on Ryloth time but… were– were you about to kiss me?”

His stomach plummeted to his toes, eyes quickly unfocussing on that aged and rusted drain, hands briefly hesitating in their attempts to rid his skin of the encrusted soot and grime that had accumulated over hours of working in the walls.

“Yes,” he admitted after a poignant swallow, and found himself watching the drain noisily consume the stained suds falling from his fingers, hoping the gurgling sound would be loud enough to drown your surely impending stammered apologies for the uncomfortable misunderstanding and your request that he leave and take his misguided feelings with him.

“Well why didn’t you?”

His head jerked somewhat awkwardly; he’d nearly snapped his gaze toward you, only to stop himself part way through as the sound of your stifled chuckle surprised him. Tech stilled upon realizing that laugh had not sounded chastising at all. Nor jeering or humiliating, nor repulsed or repugnant. It sounded almost… frustrated. Indignantly accusatory, as if you were mildly annoyed that he hadn’t kissed you.

He reached blindly for the towel folded on the counter adjacent the sink, lips pursing as he thoughtlessly ran that cloth between his fingers until his skin began to revolt against the continued abrasure.

“Tech?” you whispered, the delicate probe successful in only fleetingly drawing his gaze.

“My affection for you, while subjectively highly enjoyable, is paired with an exponential degree of uncertainty that I have never previously experienced,” Tech divulged to the fabric in his hands. “And there are recurrent moments when, despite all other variables suggesting otherwise, I suffer an inherent doubt that you would ever reciprocate my feelings. You are well educated and even better mannered… meticulous with the quality of your work… exceedingly intelligent… your compassion for others and your willingness to assist them, even where the circumstance would deem reciprocity impossible, is truly unrivaled by any person I have ever met and… and…” He paused to regain control of his words as they spilled uncontrollably from mind to mouth.

“Tech, hun,” you cooed through the ghost of another exasperated laugh. “You are all of those things too. You have no vested interest in this shop yet here you are, laying on your back in the dust, doing several days worth of electrical work so this place can function at peak productivity and make my life easier. You graciously donated several hours of your time last month to help me plough through the mountain of work that had been looming over me for days. You broke in here ready to hunt down and assault whomever it was that had allegedly harmed me without even a thought for yourself. Despite having malignantly convinced yourself that you lack emotional intelligence, you have a truly exceptional mind. You are uncommonly and refreshingly polite, and you have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, which is saying something because I’ve seen a lot of eyes. I– I’m kinda crazy about you, too.”

A truly exceptional mind? Refreshingly polite? Did you believe all of this to be true? He searched every inch of your face for any signs of insincerity, any fragments of dishonesty, any twitch of the lip that might disenchant the gratification coursing through his veins from your admonishment.

“Well,” he continued, attempting to keep his tone neutral as the realization that he’d likely blown his chance with you threatened to kick his heart clean out of his chest. “With any luck, another moment shall present itself where I may demonstrate how much you undoubtedly mean to me.”

He jammed his finger needlessly against the bridge of his goggles, dejected gaze dropping back to boots now dirtier than ever while a quiet, albeit forlorn sigh left his lips and he resumed inattentively fiddling with the little towel.

“Well,” you mimicked. “Since, the ‘ideaology of luck’ is, apparently, illogical… allow me.”

He must have stumbled over his toes in the subsequent second, though the most he’d ever be able to offer was a deduction based on the force you’d used to tug him toward you. In the reality of that moment, your perfect response to the divulgence of his feelings and the unexpected affirmation that you, too, felt similarly, had instantly rendered him euphorically ignorant to anything other than the feeling of finally having your lips against his.

That damp little towel somehow ended up displaced and draped atop the caf machine, but exactly how and when it had left his hands was a mystery that did not need solving. There was simply nothing else worthy of consideration or acknowledgement in that moment; nothing more important than the small drafts of warm air cascading across his cheek every time you shifted your lips atop his; nothing more prudent than the small yet mighty grip you maintained on the collar of his chest plate keeping him no more than a breath away from you. Somehow, you ended up perched on the counter next to that hammer, its existence now so inconsequential that it wasn’t even spared the courtesy of a glance as it fell over and landed with a thunk behind the caf machine. Tech didn’t even notice you blindly lift his goggles from his nose and rest them on his forehead, though the tender brush of your thumbs along the chronic indents on his cheeks sent shiver after shiver down his spine.

It wasn’t until your lips separated from his, and he was enveloped almost entirely with that same feeling of permitting a limb to depart his body that he returned to some semblance of awareness.

“Are you still uncertain?” you asked him with a smile that sat somewhere on the border of devious and playful.

“Darling,” Tech answered near-breathlessly, “The only notion unclear to me at this point, is how I will survive until I can see you again.”

“Speaking of…” you sighed, gesturing to the small chrono embedded into the caf machine. “You should probably head out. It’s nearly midnight.”

Tech glanced at the old clock as it mocked him. 23:44 pm. Just enough time to collect his tools from their scattered displacement around the fabrication lab and depart the store. He’d be climbing the Marauder’s ramp within minutes… silently deposit his pack in the cockpit… settle down at the workstation to tinker with his current modification project and reminisce about his afternoon in your company. But… why? Surely if his squad members were already tucked into their bunks, or quietly preparing their weapons for deployment tomorrow, there would be no harm in staying here a little longer with you? “There are no unscheduled breaks from war, no matter what you say…” The sergeant had been referencing his previous alibi; the off-the-cuff excuse Tech had offered his brother after the previous, irresponsible mistake of letting his comm depart his person had ensured him unavailable and unreliable.

His jaw tensed under the audacity of what he was about to do.

“Please excuse me,” he requested of you politely, stealing a chaste peck of a kiss from your lips before stepping backward and extracting his gauntlet comm from the cargo pouch where he’d previously stored it for safekeeping.

“Hunter,” he spoke after activating that little blue light. “What time are we set to depart for Felucia?”

“0600…” his sergeant answered suspiciously. “But curf—”

“I will see you then.”

“Te—!”

Tech silenced his comm with the blind poke of a button and tossed it carelessly to the countertop where it came to rest next to the hammer, his hands instantly reaching to cradle your waist while he chased your kiss so eagerly that you nearly toppled backwards.

***

An hour. It took an hour to stop kissing long enough to resume talking, and then several hours after that to accept that neither of you were going to achieve any other productive tasks that night. Still wholly invigorated by your union, Tech declined your midnight offer for a caf, though with how the taste lingered on your tongue between sip and kiss, he may as well have drank a cup on his own.

At quarter-past two, you dragged him by the hand back toward the lens edger and lifted his goggles from his nose. You first giggled about how much he absentmindedly squinted in the void of his regular, average eyesight, before instantly launching into an educational titter about precisely why humans even developed that anatomical squint response, and how effective it can be at temporarily improving visual acuity. And while he longed to query every fact against one of which he’d researched on his own time, he’d found a new use for his lips that he much preferred.

Shortly after four, as you locked your hands around his waist and groaned into his chest about having to spend the next several days on your hands and knees, scrubbing the floor in preparation for the reopening of your store, Tech accidentally knocked over a bottle of effervescent blue liquid; the same concoction you’d used to disinfect his glasses previously, and a quick glance at the ingredients list while he collected the dripping container had him instantly yammering about how the peroxide additive would be the perfect solution for removing the embedded blood stains.

A short time later, an unseen gang of bad mouthed adolescents were heard hollering on the other side of the fire exit door, their voices amplified by the stillness of the night and the empowered notion that they were loitering where they were not permitted, and despite their inebriation posing no apparent threat while you remained behind a locked door, Tech still refused to let you leave the backroom until he could confirm their exodus.

At half-past five, an oversized yawn barely concealed by your hand reminded Tech that, despite wishing Father Time would simply abandon his post and gift him a moment with you free from that nagging and imminent deployment, his squad was waiting for him; his sergeant likely highly perturbed and waiting for the pilot’s next transparent excuse.

“How do the eyes feel now?” you asked over your shoulder as you walked ahead of him toward the front door, his pride-and-joy helmet bobbing near comically on your head as it concealed the smile that he could hear lay atop your lips.

“Much improved,” he answered, breathing in what he could before your companionship would be lost to him for another little while.

“Thought so!” you chuckled proudly, the modulator in his helmet distorting the music of your amusement. “Changing the refractive indices of a lens can sometimes initiate a bit of a hiccup in visual processing, especially when paired with changes in curvature and correct application of coatings, but the foreign sensation typically dissipates within a rotation or so.”

“May I remind you, you need not have gifted me new lenses.”

“I just supplied the material,” you argued, helmet wiggling again as you casually shrugged away the innocent condemnation in his tone. “You did all the work the last time you were here. They’ve been sitting here waiting for you to come back so I could put them in your goggles. Plus, yours were in… questionable… condition, and if your last set were any indication of Kaminoan knowledge of refraction, you’re much better off with these. How do you feel about the slight tint after wearing it for a few hours?”

Tech forced his gaze toward the window where the sky was undoubtedly beginning to lighten under the embrace of the sun's first morning rays. He, truthfully, hadn’t given that slight yellow tint any thought in some hours; what was initially found quite unusual had quickly morphed into something… “Quite calming,” he answered.

“There’s built-in blue light protection, too, for all the quality time you spend with that datapad. Give it a month or so, and your circadian rhythm will thank me.”

You stopped when you reached the front door and turned around to face him. Despite the exhaustion having swollen the tender skin beneath your eyes, there was no denying they were still alight and twinkling as they watched him approach. But Tech stopped shortly after you did, knowing that the nearer he reached the door, the nearer he’d be to leaving, and he wasn’t yet done processing the night's events. The budding sunrise on the other side of the glass was bringing with it an understanding he never knew he’d been deficient. So this… this is what he spent his days fighting for. Feelings like this. Companionships like ours. People like you who spent their time trying to better the lives of others without even a hint of motive. Someone who cared if he returned or not.

Tech sighed, very aware that finding the correct words to elucidate his feelings for you was simply a task for another time. For now, as the sun continued to betray him by rising ever higher with every lingering breath, he wanted every last second with you to be one completely void of thought.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” you probed suddenly, breaking into his torpor. He refocussed his gaze and found another of those playful smiles crinkling your eyes, palm raised to shoulder height and facing him.

He let only the ghost of scoff depart his nose as his lips lengthened under their own smile, and he resumed his approach, not stopping until the toes of his boots were nearly touching yours. As he reached upward and gently pulled his helmet from your head, a faint ache erupted in his chest, amplified by the quiet snicker that left you and the regretful reality of that sound being one he would not hear for the foreseeable future.

“Five,” he whispered after tucking his helmet under his arm, interlacing his gloved fingers with yours and holding tightly to your hand.

“Correct,” you breathed, eyes fluttering closed as he rested his forehead against yours. “If your next mission is counting fingers, you’ve got that in the bag.”

“Considering Felucia is widely known as the Planet of Fungal Forestry, I would deem that largely improbable. However–” he added, identifying the first flickers of fear behind your eyes, “–it is highly probable that I shall return by month’s-end.”

“If Cranky Crosshair doesn’t use you for target practice first?”

“Cranky Crosshair compares naught to Hunter when he’s truly angry. Hence why I must not be any later than I already am. Goodbye for now, darling.”

He stole one last, lingering kiss from your lips before reaching for the handle on that vibrant yellow door.

***

ragu list: @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @starrylothcat @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @freesia-writes @sev-on-kamino @littlemissmanga @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @echoqk @drafthorsemath @jediknightjana @moonlightwarriorqueen @starstofillmydream @mooncommlink @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @trixie2023 @clonethirstingisreal @rabbitstu99 @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @mythical-illustrator

#bad batch fan fic #bad batch fanfic #bad batch Tech fanfic #tech x reader #tech x gn!reader #x reader #starqueenswrittenworks #starqueensedits #tech Tuesday

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arrothededushka · 10 months

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Whoo hoooo!! Congrats!! And спасибо за ваши прекрасные арты! 😁 (My dad speaks Russian but I only learned a little).

I’d looooove a little artwork for the spicy Crosshair fic I’ve been writing with @lightwise over on my side blog, @spicy-clones

Perhaps Crosshair in a softer expression, about to confess his love to someone for the first time ever? 🥺

#YOUR RUS IS VERY GOOD!! 😳#feel free to share your work #but im not a fan of het sorry #gaygaygay #(and idk how to draw for xreader fic)#first chapter is nice tho!#Thank you!#my art #sw #star wars #tcw #the clone wars #the bad batch crosshair #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #tbb #fan art #request

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bring-backup-99 · 2 months

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Did not have a praise kink until I started posting on AO3. 😭

#fan fiction #fanfic writing #fanfic truths #bad batch fanfic #ao3 truths #smut writer #smutty fanfiction #spicy fic #fanfic authors #fic writing #fic authors

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sunshinesdaydream · 17 days

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Hello there! I have a request from your Clones Ice Cream page :) Can it please be with Kix and he helps the reader after they fall (reader is clumsy) with the blushing prompt?

Thank you for the ask! I had to take some inspiration from my own situation with being clumsy though.

And thanks to everyone so far for the asks sent in! I'm looking forward to everyone of them.

Hope you enjoy this!

Falling for You

Pairing: Kix x Reader Event: Sunshine's Follower Milestone Graphic dividers and Event graphics: by myself @sunshinesdaydream Rating: SFW WARNINGS: Mentioned spatial awareness deficiency, is referred to as clumsiness. Word count: 487

You had been seen to by the medics many times. The GAR frowned on even basic bacta bandages without “medical supervision”. So the scrapes you usually would have attended to on your own with a cleaning, ointment, and bandage became a trip to the medbay full of medics and Jedi Service Corp healers.

Being a mechanic with poor spatial awareness was one thing when you overstepped a rung on a loading ladder and simply went home that night, took some pain meds for your bruised “ego” and went on with life. Now it would call for a scan to make sure you hadn’t fractured your tailbone and one of the medic troopers fussing over you. It didn’t matter who was there, you were always approached by the same trooper. Kix.

Kix, probably the prettiest trooper in the GAR, the 501st for sure. He was kind and witty and you could probably go on all day about him. You absolutely did not want him to know exactly how clumsy you were.

So far you had been able to play off every injury as something that happened while you worked. Cuts and scrapes were easily explained as typical to a mechanic’s day.

“And how did you manage to get this?” He asked as he sprayed an antibiotic on your scraped knuckles. It was an odd time, he was alone in the med bay when you had arrived with your hand wrapped in a clean shop towel.

The lie came easily as you focused on breathing and staying calm as he held your hand gently. “Busted them on an engine compartment,” not that you had busted them when you had stumbled into a bulkhead with your hands full.

“Hmmm” he hums, smoothing healing gel into your injuries. He wraps your hand in a bandage. “Try to be more careful,” he said. You nod, inwardly cringing, as you stand up to leave.

Then the inevitable happens. You make it all of four steps and your foot catches on a cart you had accidentally veered towards. You expected to hit the floor, but you didn’t. Kix catches you before you hit, pulling you upright with his arms wrapped around you.

“So what would have been this time? Malfunctioning hatch?” Kix teases.

“I…” you were at a loss for words.

“It’s cute when you blush,” he continues, still holding you in his arms.

“I’m not blushing!” You insist even as your cheeks blaze.

“Yes you are!” He says with a low chuckle. But his expression fell, “Will you tell me now what really happened? I don’t like to see you hurt,”

“I tripped into a bulkhead while I was carrying engine parts,” you answer quietly, your cheeks still on fire.

With a warm smile he gently kisses your forehead. “There, that wasn’t so bad. Was it?” He asks. “Will you let me walk with you to the mess and have dinner with you?”

Tag list:@sleepycreativewriter @523rdrebel @cloneloverrrrr @trappedinlimbo15 @merkitty49 @cdblake1565 @littlemissmanga @skywlker-sluvtt @the-bad-batch-baroness @padawancat97 @dystopicjumpsuit @moonlightwarriorqueen @idontgetanysleep @littlemissmanga @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @anxiouspineapple99 @clonemedickix @multi-fan-dom-madness @wolffegirlsunite @sev-on-kamino @secondaryrealm @wings-and-beskar @captain-rexs-cyare@cw80831 @leotawrites @transactivecybermemory @sverdgeir @nahoney22 @trixie2023

#Sunshine's Ice Cream Truck #Sunshine Follower Milestone #Sunshine Follower Event #fan fiction #rare clones #rare clone fics #sunshine writes #star wars #the clone wars #the bad batch #clone wars #clone medic kix #clone trooper kix #rare clone x reader #kix x reader #clone medic Kix x Reader

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skellymom · 2 months

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UNTITLED FIC SMUT SNIPPET

CROSSHAIR x READER NON GENDER

YES! I'm teasing you!!! Especially @haybellewrites

Warning: Slight smutty McSmutterson action. Nothing too graphic, but definite Crosshair smut! NO MINORS!

Word Count: 185

THE EDIBLE TOLD ME TO DO EEET!!!

The grief was too much for you both.

Lying in bed at night...the uncertainty and rising arousal making sleep elusive. Two people alone in the vastness of space, on a dark, silent ship. The distance between you palpable.

“Are...you awake?” he furtively asked with hushed tones in the dark.

“Umhmm.” Intrigued as to why he asked.

Silence.

You lay there in the dark waiting for an answer.

More silence...

...then Crosshairs hand gently smoothing away the hair from your temple.

You immediately embrace him tightly.

He falters for just a beat. Body frozen for what seems like an eternity. Would this scare him away?

Then you feel his arms encircle you, lips upon your cheek...kissing down to your lips.

Unable to hold back any further, you turn your head to meet his lips to yours.

Mouths opening to breathe into the well of one another. Sliding upon each other passionately. Breaths furiously taken in between long heated kisses.

Then parting quickly to pull the clothing from each other's body. Almost ripping the cloth away from bare skin. Occasional moans of longing for skin-to-skin contact....

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

@genericficerblog @thecoffeelorian @crosshairs-right-nut @fionajames @arctrooper69 @littlefeatherr @askyourfox @freesia-writes @spacemagicandlaserswords @marymunchkiin @loveinglymessedup @sverdgeir @dreamingthroughlifetonight @idoubleswearimawriter @iz-cause @itsyellow @lokigirlszendaya

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embeanwrites · 1 year

Text

Yours & Mine - Hunter x Reader

Clone Fic Gift Exchange

Prompt: “I’m yours and you are mine” with Hunter (with a mention of “don’t go far from me”)

A/N: Here’s my piece for the @cloneficgiftexchange! I’m so nervous to write/post this since @photogirl894 is one of my favorite authors here on Tumblr, so to write a piece for them, I was NERVOUS! I hope you enjoy this 🥺 Special thank you to @kakyoweeniesdump and @pinkiemme for editing and feedback! (I’ll post this to AO3 once I get home from Star Wars Celebration!)

Word count: 2047

Some days Hunter couldn’t believe his luck. To have his squad. To have Omega. To have her. He was created in a lab on a rainy planet, meant to die in a war he was created for, to serve a master he had no control over, and now his life has done almost a total 180. After retiring from working with Cid, the group had decided to settle down on a little planet in the Outer Rim that Rex had found and had been helping clones resettle who were tired of fighting away from the Empire. Between all of them, they had been able to make a fairly sustainable home. For the first time in their lives, they had the true freedom to choose.

Omega was able to go to school and make friends, something she thoroughly loved. She was frequently up before the boys in the morning, ready to go. Hunter thought the excitement would wear off, but as she entered her 60th rotation of school she still seemed to find wonder in school every day. Tech had gotten a job with a local mechanic shop after he had fixed some farming equipment for a farm nearby in record time. Wrecker had been loving helping some of the local farms with their animals and taking care of the livestock, he had been in the process of trying to convince Hunter that they needed some cattle for their farm, but Hunter wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with the smell every day. Hunter had found himself helping the townspeople with hunting and tracking and somehow, teaching some of the younger kids how to survive in the woods nearby. And unsurprising to Hunter their medic had quickly settled into helping with the local clinic.

Hunter had been very well aware of his feelings for her before the group had settled down, but with them always on the run from the Empire, he had no desire to tie her in with their group in any way that could get her hurt or worse. He tried pushing her away or at the very least get her to understand the danger she would be in by running with them. Cid had essentially forced them to have a real medic join the crew after too many missions had gone sideways due to injuries. It wasn’t that he was ungrateful to have a medic with knowledge that wasn’t learned from the holonet five minutes before putting it into practice like Tech used to do, but Hunter felt weird about any civilian traveling with them. The team warmed up to her quickly, especially Omega, and it was shortly after she had gone out of her way to get colorful band-aids for Omega did Hunter allow himself to start to give in to these feelings. The warm feeling her smile and gentle touches gave him kept him up at night, thoughts of her would circle his mind and on the rare occasion, he’d allow himself to think of a peaceful future with her.

He thought he hid his feelings well.

He did not.

It was clear to everyone, including her, almost immediately that his feelings for the medic were stronger than just another crew member. He frequently tried to push his feelings away, denying them or not even affording himself to indulge in them, but she had none of it. Every idea to dissuade her from a relationship with him seemed to do nothing but persuade her more. She reminded him almost daily of her own feelings, either intentionally or unintentionally, until he let his heart thaw out. She loved him unconditionally and he couldn’t help falling for her deeply and wholeheartedly.

Hunter still remembered the moment he decided that it was time to take that chance with her. When she had finally convinced him it was worth it. She had just patched up Wrecker and had been softly arguing with Tech that he needed more rest when she had sat next to him on his bunk, surprising him.

“Do you want to talk about what happened out there?” She asked him softly and he fought back a sigh.

“Nothing happened out there.” He replied, going back to sharpening his vibro blade, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh really?” She taunted. “Was it not you, pulling you behind me in the middle of the mission saying ‘don’t go far from me’?” He clenched and unclenched his jaw, he knew this had been coming and that she wouldn’t let this go.

“That wasn’t-” He tried.

“Hunter, how long are we going to dance around this?” She muttered, he could hear her heart pounding and the frustration in her words, he felt his hands grow clammy. This was a conversation that had long been coming. “It’s not fair to either of us. Why aren’t you letting yourself be happy? What are you so scared of?” He slowly sheathed his blade and turned to face her, not allowing himself to look her in the face just yet.

“What if I fail and lose you.” He finally muttered, feeling as if a tank was sitting on his chest. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost any of the squad, but you? Darling, I don’t think I could come back from that.” He groaned and dropped his head in his hands, hunched over in embarrassment and frustration.

“But Hunter-” Her voice raising, ever so slightly.

“How do you not understand that I’m doing this for you!” He dropped his hands and looked at her from the corner of his eye, unable to face her fully. “I don’t ever want you to hurt, don’t ever want to see you in pain, and the odds of me living through the Empire? Living through dealing with Cid’s missions? Not great. All I want is to see you happy, and I’d love for you to be happy with me, but that will no doubt be brief and I can’t leave you hurting without being there to help.” He looked away, not eager to see her face when she responded.

“Well that’s very morbid and a bit arrogant.” She snorted. Hunter turned to face her scowling, ready to retort. “But even more infantilizing. If anything happened to either one of us, not just you, I think we would both grieve, but never take for granted any of the time we shared, or the care we had for each other. I’m not so fragile that your loss would break me, sure it would hurt, and I’d be heartbroken, but I have more respect for you, your memory, and for myself than to let that misery take hold forever, and I think you are stronger than that too.” She grabbed his hands, pulling him to face her. “You are letting fear keep you from living, and there is a lot of that to do outside of the war. You can be afraid, but don’t be a coward. Bravery isn’t the opposite of fear, it’s being afraid, but going for it anyway. You’re so brave out there, be brave here, with me.” She smiled, small and hopeful, but her eyes never left his, steely and determined to sway him. “And you know your brothers won’t stop giving you shit if you-“ he cut her off, his hand holding her cheek, thumb pressed against the apple, roving over her cheekbone. He was a breath away from her, his nose brushing against hers, watching her closely, waiting for her to push him away. He knew she wouldn’t push him away, not after that speech, not after everything, but some part of him still wanted to run, wanted her to run. But running wasn’t her and he was tired of trying to fight off his feelings.

“Are you gonna kiss me or not, Sarge-“ and cutting her off once more his lips were on hers, and it was everything she’d wanted for months.

She was so soft against him, it was startling how right she felt in his arms, but when her lips demanded more from him, pressing back harder and forcing what a sweet, chaste gesture to a passionate embrace one he knew she was anything but. He broke their kiss, moving back a hair's breadth to look at her. He was mesmerized by the way her eyes fluttered open, her mouth slightly agape and flushed.

“You won’t take no for an answer, will you darlin’?” He chuckled, his hand ghosting down her face to grasp her jaw.

“Absolutely not.” She smirked, then her hand weaved into his hair and pulled him in for another kiss. And that was that, she made no room for any further argument between them.

And that kiss is what led the two of them to now, roughly one standard cycle (and many kisses) later in their very own home. The two of them were currently lying on a soft rug in front of their fireplace, fully clothed and just enjoying the ability to have some serenity near each other. The night was quiet and having her so close made Hunter feel more warmth than any heat the fire could provide. He willed himself to hear her soft heartbeat, to smell the gentle shampoo she used in her hair, the feel of his hands on her cheek. He wanted so desperately to freeze time and live in this moment forever.

“Are you okay, my love?” Her soft voice interrupted his thoughts. He let out a gentle sigh as he looked over at her face, ever caring and ever wondering about his well-being over her own.

“I was just thinking about everything we had to go through to get here.” He murmured, she gave him a small smile, knowing the pain the entire batch went through to get to this peaceful time in their life and it was clear to all of them, even if they didn’t discuss it, that there was still a fear in each of them that this life may come to an end abruptly the moment they get too comfortable. “Sometimes I worry I’m going to wake up back in our barracks on Kamino and after everything that’s happened…I just fear that I don’t deserve this.” He closed his eyes as she moved her hand to cup his tattooed cheek, forcing him to look into her eyes.

“Hunter, honey, of course, you deserve happiness.” She gave him a soft smile before continuing, “Plus I’m not complaining about having an absolute hunk of a man on my arm.” She joked, causing Hunter to let out a slight laugh.

“I’m glad you find me nice to look at.” He responded, still stuck in his thoughts.

“Among other things, you know.” She leaned forward and kissed the side of his mouth, his stubble rubbing against her. “I love how kind and protective you are. I always feel so safe when you’re around.” She murmured, moving ever so slightly to kiss his tattooed cheek. “I love when you’re watching Omega and you have this dad pose-”

“Dad pose?” He questioned.

“You know, the one you do with your hand on your hip and you lean against the wall, watching her with a small smile. You do it all the time, you did it today when she was playing with her friends after school!” She teased while she resumed her soft kisses along his face. “I love that even when we’re out of missions you’re doing everything you can to make sure everyone’s safe. I love when I’m cooking and you come up behind me to hold me. I love-”

“Alright, alright! I get it, you love me.” He chuckled, face burning bright from all the compliments, so unused to any form of love outside his brothers.

“But do you know what I love the most?” She asked, moving so she was now on top of him, playfully pinning him.

“Now, what would that be, sweetheart?”

“That I’m all yours and you’re all mine.” She responded before leaning down to kiss him. And for once, Hunter allowed himself to relax in this moment, because she was right. While his fear of losing her was still there, he knew that at this time in his life, they had each other and nothing was going to change that.

#hunter x reader bad batch #hunter bad batch #hunter x reader #bad batch x reader #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #clone fic exchange #x reader #star wars #omega #tech bad batch #wrecker bad batch #fan fiction #writing exchange #photogirl894 #Bad Batch #star wars bad batch #CFGE23

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fandom-friday · 16 days

Note

#FandomFriday The Phee Fall Maneuver by @eclec-tech Spoilers for episode 12. A comforting and fun short story. It involves a recovering Tech post season 3. Here’s to hoping that this story comes true.

https://www.tumblr.com/eclec-tech/747424005241421824/the-phee-fall-maneuver

Listen, I loooooove these little short ficlets because @eclec-tech ALWAYS delivers, and this one is NO exception. It is SO ANGSTY and then SO SOFT AND SWEET and MAN it makes me long for this theory I've got to work out and be true so that maybe, JUST MAYBE we can have moments like this. My HEART. Thanks so much for sending this one in!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

#FANDOM FRIDAY #creator appreciation #fic rec #fanfiction #fan fic #star wars #the bad batch #tbb #the bad batch spoilers #tbb spoilers #tech #phee #tech x phee #techphee #fluff

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apocalyp-tech-a · 2 years

Link

Activated Mind by Aelfwynn on Ao3 - Excerpt:

Hunter felt a tear gather in the outside corners of his closed eyes and fall down toward his hair. He was laying on his back. He gingerly fluttered his eyes open.

“Hunter? Hunter!” the child's voice cried.

Omega... Omega! Hunter's eyes opened wide and he started to breathe heavily as Omega's little, tear stained face appeared over his, caressing his cheek. “Omega...” Hunter mumbled. “Are you all right?” Why was she crying? Was she injured? Was he? He reached for her shoulder, but felt his limbs were a little slow to respond to his commands.

#Activated Mind #Aelfwynn #ao3 #What If #Bracca #The Bad Batch #Star Wars #fan fiction #the bad batch fan fic #tech #echo #hunter #wrecker #captain rex #omega #inhibitor chips

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sinfulsalutations · 3 months

Text

𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕙𝕒𝕓𝕚𝕥𝕤 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ ꜱᴇɴᴅ ᴛᴡᴇᴇᴛ

⋆ ★ ᴜʜ ʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴇ ɪ ꜱᴘᴇᴡᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

Hunter

The sergeant is very unruly in the bathroom.

He is the shittiest person to share a fresher with.

Somehow manages to leave the whole thing wet as he gets out of the shower, has hair all in the drains and clinging to the shower wall, and the mirror is totally fogged up to the point you have to air out the room for a solid few minutes.

All of his hair products and body care stuff also take up so much counter space, leaving barely enough for yours (which is much more minimal).

You’re trying your best to help Hunter implement new, better habits as time goes on, but it’s proving difficult.

He’d never believe you, but you might insist he’s this way because he likes to relax and not bother in the fresher, as it’s the only time for himself to truly unwind and enjoy himself.

But no. That can’t be the reason why. Right?

Tech

He is a CHRONIC nail biter and skin picker.

It’s just a constant fiddle thing.

Helps him focus on something but he also just gets picky with the state of his nails and the skin surrounding it.

Consistently gets to a point where the poor things are red and swollen and just look painful.

Subtly you try to make him stop; switching to a new soap, coating his nails with bad tasting polish and finish, etc.

It doesn’t work.

He somehow always manages to swerve around it and continue biting his nails.

One day you’ll find a strategy to get him to stop; hint, it might be letting him fiddle around with your hands a little…

Wrecker

Sloppy with food. Like, very sloppy.

If you hand him a full plate, a good portion of it will find its way onto the table, the floor, his pants, his shirt, and the surrounding area of his mouth.

He just can’t seem to keep it all in one place.

It’s not that big of a deal; if he’s truly conscious about it, he won’t actively make a mess (though he might still get some on his clothes and mouth), but a lot of the time, he isn’t.

Either way, it’s kind of charming. Seeing him snarf down food enthusiastically only fits so well with the rest of his character.

Crosshair

This man’s sleep schedule is fuuuuucked; more fucked than Tech’s, even.

He will go to bed early, wake up in the middle of night and stay up until the morning when he finally does fall asleep for a few hours but is forced to wake up and start the day.

Or alternatively, he’ll go to bed very late, sleep until noon, and spend his day taking minor naps only continuing his habit of sleeping later.

The worst part is he doesn’t make any effort to fix it and practically enables it.

What kind of fucked up form of masochism is this? you think.

He’s a quiet riser and sleeper so this habit of his manages not to affect anyone else, but it especially bothers you out of your care for crosshair and his well-being.

You might try and coax him to sleep and wake up at proper times with you, and it might work every now and then— but Crosshair’s sleep schedule doesn’t follow anyone’s orders.

Echo

This boy has really bad posture.

It’s not very obvious compared to Tech’s posture, but it causes him lots of shoulder and neck aches, especially when he’s sitting in the cockpit for too long.

You make jokes about getting him a back brace and he grumbles with a laugh, “I already got enough metal hooked up to me.”

Sometimes when you notice it and see him rubbing at his neck, you get his attention and sweetly tell him ‘shoulders up, love.’

Without fail, he does so with a soft smile and leans over to kiss your cheek as a way of thanking you for the reminder.

ragu list: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @dukeoftheblackstar @kimiheartblade @followthepurrgil @wolffegirlsunite @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @aconstructofamind @padawancat97 @littlemissmanga @starqueensthings @anxiouspineapple99 @freesia-writes @wings-and-beskar @clio3kantarella @secretthegriffin @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @dystopicjumpsuit @mandos-mind-trick @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @andrakass2 @jesjestraverse @crosshairlovebot @wizardofrozz @dangraccoon @lickylickylicky @captainfresh501 @thebomb-diggity @urmomsmattress @jedi-hawkins @who-would-want-a-broken-heart @cw80831 @bluebird-dreams @ladyzirkonia @multi-fan-dom-madness @moonlightwarriorqueen @eyeluvmusic21 @mythical-illustrator @a-single-tulip

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