There Should Probably Be A Larger TBB Section.

when you hold me, it holds me together.

Chapter 1: the air in my lungs may not last very long, but I’m in

fandom: Star Wars, the bad batch

read on AO3 here

Author: Heyitsshay

Word count: guys it’s only 5.6 K. I did it, I wrote something that was a reasonable length 😂

Summary: No one has ever held her like this. 

Sure, the Kaminoens did, on a few occasions, carry her with the upmost reluctance. Usually, when too much time in the labs under experimentation had left her too weak to even stand. When it seemed like they had taken everything from her and left her meagre small body as the scraps.

But it was never like this. No one had ever just, held her, held her like She mattered, carried her as if she was something precious to them, cradled her against them like they truly cared for her, beyond what her body was capable of supplying to them.

Or

The first five times 1 of her brothers hugs Omega. Plus the one time she doesn’t expect it.

If you need some perfect fluffiness in your life, then read this 4-chapter work by @kybercrystals94. I couldn’t stop smiling!

The Stardust Conspiracy (Part 1)

Rated: G | Words: 1,656 | Summary: The Batch gets a pet…chaos ensues.

Author’s Note: special thanks to @just-here-with-my-thoughts for their contribution to the chaos that will transpire…😂

The market is crowded and loud. Omega's eyes are wide and constantly moving, a small smile teasing the edges of her lips. She has attached herself to both Hunter and Wrecker, her hands tucked snugly in theirs. It links them in an awkward chain; however, Hunter would rather that than Omega getting lost or snatched up. And maybe he doesn’t mind the feel of her tiny fingers locked around his, an unspoken familiarity that has grown in the months since they’ve taken her in.

“There’s so much to look at!” Omega declares, skipping between her brothers without a care in the world.

Hunter smiles. “Definitely more to offer than Ord Mantell.”

“That’s not hard to do,” Echo comments from behind them, voice muffled behind the mask of his droid disguise.

“We should get food,” Wrecker declares. “I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” Hunter says, shaking his head. They’d just had their rations not even a standard hour before.

“I’m hungry too,” Omega says, tugging on Hunter’s hand.

“See! Great minds think alike!” Wrecker laughs, giving Omega’s arm an enthusiastic swing, making her giggle.

Hunter glances back at Echo, but the cyborg just heaves one shoulder in a shrug. “We’ll see what we can find,” Hunter concedes, earning a cheer from Wrecker and Omega.

The morning had started out on a sour note, the four of them having been banished from the Marauder by Tech for the remainder of the day while he made repairs “by himself.” Really, Wrecker and Echo were to blame, while Hunter and Omega were guilty by simple association. Wrecker had, somehow, managed to drop Gonky on Tech’s favorite data pad, cracking the screen even through the screen protector. Echo then followed up by inadvertently deleting a file from the navigation system’s hard drive that he thought was clutter—but was actually a collection of mundane information that Tech had wanted to keep. Verbal apologies were not enough to smooth over the offenses, and the four clones were asked to leave.

Omega, never one to linger on hard feelings, brightened the mood almost immediately, pressing into the excitement of a new place to explore. She was especially delighted with the fact that they were in no hurry to return to the ship, nor did they have any specific task to accomplish, leaving them free to wander to her childish heart’s content.

Their search for food is interrupted when they walk past a specific shop window. Omega’s attention is immediately captured by the sight of tooka kittens peering out at her, mouths moving in soundless mews through the glass pane. “What is this place?” she asks.

“It’s a pet store,” Echo replies.

Omega turns wide eyes on their oldest brother. “Pet store? What’s a pet?”

Hunter starts to step away. “Nothing we need,” he says firmly. “C’mon.”

Omega resists, returning her gaze to the tookas. “Can we go inside and just look? Please!”

“Yeah, Hunter, just for a few minutes,” Wrecker says. “I’ve never gotten to see a tooka kitten before. Maybe we can hold one!”

Omega gasps. “We could hold one?”

Two sets of eyes turn on Hunter with a level of pleading the sergeant isn’t ready to contend with. He sighs. “Fine. We can go inside for a few minutes.”

A small bell rings cheerfully when they push open the door, and an elderly woman eyes them from behind the counter. “Welcome,” she says, “is there anything specific I can help you find today?”

“We’re just looking,” Hunter says.

“Can we hold a tooka kitten?” Omega pipes up.

“Of course, you can, little one,” the woman croons. “You can hold any one you’d like.”

Omega and Wrecker go to the window, looking down into the glass pen where the tooka kittens have toddled over on wobbly, baby legs, their beady eyes blinking up under huge ears. Omega carefully lifts out a brown and black striped kitten then holds it close to her chest, stroking it between its ears.

“It’s the softest thing I’ve ever felt in my whole life,” she whispers, “and it’s so tiny! Look at its little paws, Hunter! It’s so cute!”

Hunter’s heart melts a little.

Wrecker hesitates, but after looking at the woman and receiving a nod, he also picks up a kitten, the little creature practically disappearing in his cupped hand. “Imagine if Lula were this small,” Wrecker rumbles, his attempt at a whisper.

“She’d be so cute!” Omega cries quietly.

“Lula isn’t real,” Echo feels the need to clarify to the storekeeper. “It’s a toy.”

The woman gives Echo a funny look, and Hunter realizes it’s because of his droid disguise.

The woman turns her attention to Hunter. “The kittens are just old enough to leave their mother this week. We have everything you’d need to adopt one today.”

“Oh, no,” Hunter assures her a little too quickly, “We don’t want a kitten. We are just looking.”

The woman raises an eyebrow and pointedly glances at Omega. “Pets are very good for children. Teaches responsibility”

Omega is snuggling the tooka up to her face, her nose pressed into its round, fuzzy body. “It’s making a funny sound,” Omega says.

“It’s purring,” the woman explains, “that means it likes you.”

“It does? Awww! Can you hear it purring, Hunter?” Omega giggles when the kitten lets out a tiny, rasping mew.

“This one’s purring too!” Wrecker says, gruff soldier voice sounding absolutely delighted.

Hunter tries to ignore the sticky sweet emotion that stirs somewhere deep in the muscle thumping in his chest. They cannot get a tooka. Don’t even entertain the idea! “Alright,” he says, stamping down the joy daring to bloom in the light of his siblings’ utter happiness, “a few minutes is up. Let’s go.”

“Hunter, wait! There are more animals, and I want to see them all!” Omega cries, turning on him with those galaxy filled eyes. It doesn’t help that she has the tooka kitten nuzzled under her chin, peering up at him, daring him to break a little girl’s heart.

Hunter looks at Echo for backup, but the man looks about as helpful as Gonky at the moment. He is staring down at Omega, and even with the mask hiding his expression, it looks like he’s about to let Omega adopt the whole litter of tookas on the spot.

Maker, help me.

“Alright, well, you better start looking. We’re gonna have to head out soon,” Hunter says in his best command voice. Unfortunately, Omega and Wrecker are practically immune to it. They gently put down their tooka kittens, and begin meandering around the store, looking into glass cages housing all sorts of creatures from over the galaxy.

“What are these called?” Omega asks, leaning down to look into a cage containing what look to be tiny puffs of fur, smaller than the palm of her hand.

“Those are called cricetos,” the woman says, “They make wonderful first pets. Would you like to hold one?”

“Yes, please!” Omega chirps.

The woman reaches in and plucks a golden ball of fluff from the cage. She sets it in Omega’s hand. The creature is tiny, and stares up at Omega with large, round eyes. “I can’t even feel it in my hand, it’s so light,” Omega breathes.

“Would you like to give it a treat?” the woman asks.

Omega nods eagerly, and the woman gives her a small handful of seeds. Omega holds out a single seed to the criceto, and the animal reaches out and snatches the seed in its minuscule fingers. After an experimental sniff, the criceto licks the seed once before shoving the whole thing in its mouth, tucking it in its cheek. Omega offers it another and another and another, each seed carefully stowed away.

“That,” Echo says, “is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

And that’s the moment Hunter knows they’re doomed.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

The storekeeper is more than accommodating in providing the squad with everything they need to take care of a rodent aboard a spacecraft, even supplying discounts when Hunter tries to make the excuse that they really don’t have the credits to make such a purchase right now. Echo and Wrecker are absolutely no help, and the look on Omega’s face seals the deal. Tech is going to kill me in my sleep.

Omega is practically beside herself with excitement, words tumbling out of her in an endless stream as she plots, strategizes, and anticipates what having a pet will mean for their lives now. “Do you think Tech is going to love Stardust as much as we do?” Omega asks, holding up the small crate to peek at the rodent stashed inside.

Hunter suppresses a sigh. “Maybe we should wait to tell Tech until...” never. We should never, ever tell Tech.

“Until he isn’t mad at Wrecker and Echo anymore?” Omega supplies sweetly.

Echo and Wrecker make noises of protest; however, Hunter cuts them off with a sharp look. After all, it’s their fault they had to meander into the market at all. Their fault Stardust – as Omega quickly named the animal now in their care – is on a journey back to their ship. Their fault they hadn’t backed Hunter up when he tried to talk his way out of the situation.

“Maybe,” Omega says thoughtfully, oblivious to Hunter’s inner turmoil, “we can let Tech find Stardust on his own. We can put her cage by the nav computer, there’s a perfect spot for it! He’ll see how cute she is, and he won’t mind at all.”

It isn’t the worst idea, and at least it’s an idea. Tech might be miffed at first; however, he will come around. He might try to appear otherwise, but he is just as indulgent to Omega’s whims as the rest of them. The moment he sees how much their sister adores her new ward, he won’t be able to say anything against it. And besides, how much damage could a little rodent do?

TBC

Next Part >>

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The next arc of Doc’s Misadventures! @staycalmandhugaclone continues this masterpiece. Poor Doc, trying to do the right thing in an environment that won’t support it. And being reintroduced to “Jester,” that was so fun! As always, waiting excitedly for more!

#hunter in running shorts! #doc thirsting

Reprocussions

Part (1) of the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

Did the first series of cuts to my taglist - you don't reblog or comment, I don't tag - that's how Tumblr works, my dearies.

Warnings: Emotions. That's a warning in itself. Dread, arguing, guilt, regret, feeling overwhelmed. Also a touch of profanity. Also racism style prejudice. Oh, and some Hunter thirst.

WC: 3,874

Mando’a translation

ori’buyce, kih’kovid – all helmet, no head: someone with and overdeveloped sense of authority

Kamino was, at its core, a failed science experiment; what few inhabitants still clinging to life above tumultuous, unforgiving waves doing so purely from a futile denial of the impending ruination already evident in the violence of the oceans that overtook nearly the entirety of the planet’s stormy surface eons prior. That destruction was predestined; a simple consequence of climate, but what befell those inhabitants in the centuries that followed could be blamed on no one but themselves; driven to the edge of extinction not from natural catastrophe but from some ill-conceived need to eliminate traits arbitrarily deemed undesirable, altering the very code of their existence first through selective breeding, and then through artificial splicing until natural reproduction was not only deemed obsolete in their strive toward perfection, but became biologically impossible.

Perfection is the great myth of social naivety, offering aspirations veiled beneath the façade of a motivation that, in truth, results only in the inevitable collapse of will as goals prove eternally beyond reach. This toxic mentality, however, persists far longer than the spark of brilliance crushed beneath its unreachable expectations, but that illusion of perfection is infectious, destined to poison any subjected to its ideals not only with feelings of crippling inadequacy but also in granting false justification for prejudice against those labeled lesser through simple consequence of genetic expression.

I hated how that mentality had seeped into not only so many of the clones they’d created, but into myself as well, tainted by those beliefs not through direct correlation, but from a nearly equally unjust bias toward the clones themselves. Had I never met Hunter and his brothers, I’m not sure I would ever have truly noticed, but, after living with them and witnessing firsthand the cruelty their squad was subjected to because of it, each reg I saw instantly filled me with a distrust that brought with it a bang of guilt. It wasn’t every reg. I knew that. But it was enough to leave me torn between that guilt and the nagging reminder of just how damaging granting them the benefit of the doubt could be.

It was because of that bias that I refused to leave the medbay of the Vigilance for even a moment; not while Hunter was still bedbound and Crosshair needed to make frequent visits to continue monitoring the progress of his eyes. Admittedly, the term ‘bedbound’ was rather fiercely contested… particularly by Hunter, himself.

“No! You’re on med-leave for at least another week!” I was shouting again. “I don’t care if those orders came from the damn Grand Chancellor, himself!”  I’d been doing that a lot lately, whether in response to Hunter’s increasingly frustrated demands to be released or toward the ship’s staff insisting that I let them relieve me for a while. “It’s barely been four kriffing days since you were in hemorrhagic cardiac arrest!” It wasn’t healthy. “You’ve barely even started physical therapy!” I knew it wasn’t healthy.

“Because you won’t let me out of this kriffing bed!” He snarled back.

“Two weeks is the minimum recovery time for an injury like-”

“For a nat-born! Not a clone!” He interrupted. I still couldn’t look at him without seeing how pale his skin had been when I’d found him.

“You died!” The emptiness in those captivating eyes. “I barely managed to bring you back! Any other medic would have given up long before I did!” The terror I felt any time he was out of my sight, that fear that I might miss something critical; I knew it wasn't healthy… but I couldn’t risk seeing him like that again…

“Then get your head out of your shebs before we get do get stuck with some ‘other medic’!” He snapped, and my entire body froze with a sudden chill, muscles locked as the air stilled in my lungs. “You give them reason to think you can’t be objective with us, then there won’t be a damn thing I can say to keep some ori’buyce, kih’kovid from pulling you.” It wasn’t a threat. Despite how his voice dropped into that frightful growl, I knew it wasn’t a threat. He was begging me.

My teeth ground together, nostrils flared with barely controlled, shallow breaths. I said nothing as I turned and left. No words would come to me, nor did I have any confidence in my ability to force them past taut lips even if they did. I told myself it was rage that left my ears ringing, that sent a nauseating tingle dancing beneath my skin and prickling my fingertips, but I knew it was nothing so kind as that, nor so simple.

I thought of that night hidden away with Tech in the cockpit, how he’d teased me for admitting that I had nothing beyond him and his brothers; what that would leave me with if I was ripped away from them. Sick… Maker, I was going to be sick…

Clones did heal faster than nat-borns… but something about forcing them back into a war zone after so little time to recover… It wasn't fair… In so many aspects of life, clones were treated and viewed as lesser; granted fewer rights, spared little consideration for basic needs or comforts, awarded no thought toward self-autonomy… Forcing myself to adhere to those unjust standards ground against the very core of my being… but Hunter was right… If I pushed too far, if I was called out and removed, they'd be subjected to those same rules with far less compassion.

Despite the size of the Star Destroyer, it seemed impossible to find a breath of solitude, constantly dodging patrols or maintenance crew or janitorial workers; so, I walked. I’d barely glanced at the mission brief before lashing out, balking at the departure date looming in a mere three days, but it seemed a shockingly straightforward reconnaissance objective: confirm the presence of a droid factory that had supposedly just begun construction, and, if the reports were correct, plant enough explosives to level it before the thing could become a threat. Simple…

It wasn’t hunger that drew me toward the mess hall. I knew they’d be there, most of them, at least, and, though I wasn’t ready to actually speak with them, emotions still too raw to even feign some appearance of calm, I needed to see them. Tech’s arm no longer needed the support and protection of the sling, a fact he took advantage of before I’d properly cleared him, and he’d assured me that he’d tended both Echo’s shoulder and Wrecker’s knee while my attention was focused on Hunter and Crosshair, a kindness that only deepened my own growing sense of inadequacy even as I’d forced myself to offer my gratitude.

In the sea of nearly identical faces, my men screamed their defiance both through stature and in the striking contrast of their darkened armor amidst the white and gold of the 212th. It was because of that contrast that I was surprised to note an additional figure beside them; beside Wrecker. He dwarfed the man, an illusion that was only further accentuate by Crosshair and Tech's towering frames seated just across from them. Still, I found myself tensing, shoulders drawing back as my teeth ground, lips just hinting at a scowl, but I froze before taking that first step toward them. Smiling… Wrecker was smiling.

While I couldn't see their expressions from where I stood, Crosshair had his chin nestled atop his palm, elbow lazily hiked up on the table, an air of impatience screaming from how his head hung down toward a shoulder, more resigned than annoyed, and Tech appeared to actually be just as engaged with the reg as Wrecker. That guilt returned in force. They were talking; laughing… and I’d been so ready to assume the worst…

I studied them for a moment longer, gaze lingering on the gleeful face of the reg as I absently noted the faint scar bisecting one of his eyebrows. This wasn’t me… This neurotic mess, jumping to respond with violence before even granting a chance to speak… That man was no different than the troopers Emmy gave her life trying to help… His broad grin only twisted that bitter taste of shame and regret deeper into my chest, tightening some unseeable noose. It felt like something was about to snap, muscles locked so taut they threatened to shake.

Air fleeing me in a sharp huff, I turned on my heel and all but fled, boots clicking loudly against the harsh metal below in rushed strides just shy of running. Cody once warned me of how traumatic events could alter the dynamic of a group. I wondered, suddenly, why he knew that. It felt odd to think that the Kaminoans might have chosen to include such concepts in whatever glimpses of psychology they might have included in their training programs, but his words had held none of the hesitation of one speaking only through thin fragments of forced studies, the details of which had long since been forgotten. I wouldn’t doubt that his General was surely well versed in such things, but the Commander’s words held a weight far greater than what might be found through secondhand allusion. Had he seen the consequences of some similar horror? Watched the fallout helpless to stop it? What would he say to this? How might he judge the depth of my connection – my dependency – to these men? How quickly might he replace me?

I knew Hunter was right. There was a balance between what care I was allowed to give and the merciless demands of the GAR, and if I faltered too far in either direction, I’d lose them…

Hunter’s eyes snapped up as I reentered the room, body tensing where he stood just a few careful steps from his bed, and I watched that initial panic of being caught flare into a defensive glare, but I didn’t allow myself to sink back into what fears had fueled my earlier outbursts rebuking his every attempt to push himself; I didn’t allow myself the freedom of even acknowledging that fear, that whisper of doubt that I was still missing something; I couldn’t.

“I’m ordering a stress test.” I stated before he could bark out whatever argument clearly churned behind taut lips. Instantly, that tension fled him, powerful shoulders sinking beneath a hesitation that only further emphasized how apparently unreasonable he’d believed me to be, and I had to let my gaze fall to the now empty bed beside him to keep that realization from breaking me.

 “If the scars hold and you don’t start bleeding out again, I’ll clear you for duty.” I didn’t look at him as I said it, and the silence that followed was anything but kind. I had to keep myself from fidgeting, jaw ground.

“… Doc…” The quiet sympathy in his voice only pulled me nearer to the edge of breaking. Wrenching a quick, deep breath into my lungs, I snatched my datapad and rapidly typed in the order before I could talk myself out of it.

“You deserve better than this…” I barely whispered it, rage and despair twisting through the words. He called my name, and my throat seized against the ball of tears straining to escape.

“I'll get you some clothes.” I said stiffly and, before he could respond, before he could further justify the cruel reasoning behind his rushed return to the battlefield or offer some softly murmured reassurance that I couldn't risk letting myself believe, I turned away, steps once again tapping loudly on the hard floors. Three days… we had only three days before being forced to fight again... It was wrong…

I’d brought him a comfortable shirt along with his shorts for the stress test. He elected not to wear it. Whether that choice stemmed from a hope to flaunt how quickly his wounds were healing or something far less innocent, I wouldn't let myself think too deeply on it - straining to keep my gaze on the datapad in my hand instead than the wealth of power illustrated by his every stride.

Hunter’s hair was tied up in a messy bun rather than loosely held back by that faded bandana, revealing elegant lines of muscle sweeping from his thick neck down to broad shoulders honed to frightful perfection from years of ruthless fighting, from racing across battlefields with heavy weaponry held at the ready, from driving fist and blade alike through enemies made of flesh and metal and every combination in between. He’d gained nearly ten kilograms in the time I’d been with them, and that boon had only added to the lethal effigy of raw power before me; added to the very real danger he represented. That power scared me, once… but that was a long time ago.

“Pain level? Say anything less than three and I’ll throw a damn weight vest on you.” I threatened, speaking as though I wasn’t fighting to keep my gaze from following every drop of sweat as they slid down the valleys carved between abs accentuated by dark, coarse hair that narrowed in such a cruel invitation between the V is his hips before vanishing beneath the waistline of his shorts.

“Three.” I could hear his smirk, jaw tensing against the way my lips threatened to pull into a grin of my own even as I pointedly rolled my eyes at him.

“Any difficulty breathing? Stiffness or pressure or-”

“Pretty sure one of those fancy scanners would have started yelling at me if my lung was collapsing again.” He drawled, turning toward me with a knowing look. He’d been running for nearly an hour, and the man was barely winded… Still, I couldn’t silence that fear… that certainty that there was something…

“Alright…” I finally murmured, hand reluctantly reaching out to flutter over the controls. His attention didn’t waver as he gradually slowed to a stop, chest swelling with barely quickened breaths. There was a sense of defeat sown deeply through that single word that forbade me from meeting his eyes for a long moment, studying the readout of his vitals one last time before making myself look at him. “If anything feels off – if the pain gets worse or you feel short of breath, I swear to the Force, Hunter, you need to tell me.” It was supposed to be an order, but the desperation drowning me left it anything but, and the softness in the way he sighed my name robbed me of even a sliver of denial that he hadn’t noticed as he slowly crossed the room.

“I will.” He could have mocked me; could have dismissed my fears with overly confident boasts and promises, but he didn’t, and that granted a far greater comfort that he could possibly know… Still…

“I don’t like this…” I barely whispered it, finally letting the weight of that terrible dread tug at the corners of my lips, shoulders sinking with a helplessness neither of us had any hope of fixing.

“I know.” He murmured. For just a moment, his shoulder tensed, arm just beginning to move before he forced it still, and I mourned the loss of that touch he hadn't allowed himself to give, the warmth of his hand stolen from me for fear of wandering eyes and over-eager rumors.

My gaze fell, lingering for just a moment on that hand, on the ridges of veins and spiderwebs of scars, on the memory of the dizzying contrast between the roughness of calluses stretching across palm and fingertips alike, and how gentle I knew his touch to be.

“Someone stays with you.” That, at least, carried some hint of authority as I drew a shaky breath before looking back up at him. “I don't care what happens, someone stays with you at all times.” The patches of bare skin where the electrodes had gone refused to let me forget how still he’d been between those horrid moments when his body had seized beneath the flood of electricity meant to restart his heart. The bruising had already begun fading from his chest, but I’d never be able to forget how stark the outline of my palms had looked, how dark the mottled purples and red were in those hours after bringing him back…

He let out a quiet huff at my order, head tilting down slightly to better hold my gaze.

“Yes, ma’am.” My lips pursed slightly at that teasing lilt, and I had to fight back the threat of heat spreading up my neck at the low rumble of his voice.

Drawing a deep breath, I finally turned away from him, attention falling back to my datapad to clear him before I could find some excuse not to.

“And you’re wearing a chest brace.” I added, cheeks burning at the quiet chuckle it drew from him.

“Alright.” He hummed through that little smirk that sent my heart racing, brow hitching slightly. “Anything else?” My jaw jut forward against the smile toying with the edge of my own lips.

“Give me a sec, and I’ll think of something.” I shot back, arms crossing my chest with a heatless glare, but he only responded with another soft laugh.

 The following day passed in a blur; endless paperwork to finish, a shocking amount of supplies to restock, as well as overseeing what precious few hours of physical therapy I could force each of them through before we were scheduled to leave. Nearly each of them, at least. Wrecker's knee had some lingering stiffness, but that faded with minor warmups. Tech's arm was still notably weak, but he assured me he'd already tested for nerve damage, and I had no reason to doubt him, resigned to merely monitor it over the coming weeks. Crosshair had spent much of the time aboard the massive flagship in their gun range, and he had no qualms with proving just how thoroughly his eyes had healed. But Echo… Echo had vanished under the guise of “requisitioning" materials to finish building his new legs, an occasional message our only reassurance that he was still onboard.

I shouldn't have been surprised to note the missing supplies during my final check of the Marauder's medbay, but the little pang of disappointment was there regardless. The night cycle had nearly begun, and the thought of sinking in-between warm sheets and warmer arms taunted me as I reluctantly noted the missing bacta and bandages, and started wearily back to the hanger's storage room, empty box cocked against my hip.

Night had little meaning in space. It was a label meant only to grant some illusion of familiarity; a place-keeper for the sake of simplicity despite the fact that “night" had a thousand different meanings on a thousand different planets. What days or weeks spent in the in-between of hyperspace were usually used to gradually adjust perception to match the cycle of one’s destination.

The Vigilance, however, had no destination. If she neared a planet, it was for the sake of a brutal onslaught void of any consideration toward night and day. Men died in the darkness just as easily as in the light. So the Vigilance rotated between an imagined night and day solely because such a thing was expected, but, in truth, it made no difference beyond a simple shift change to those sentenced to remain in that liminal existence. Solders still marched through halls on patrol amidst maintenance crews and cleaner bots and all manner of workers striving to keep the vessel ready to fight at a moment's notice, and they spared me little consideration as I wove between them, just another cog churning within the Republic’s war.

“It was a trick question.” My attention snapped up, surprised to find a clone standing a few meters away just within the door of the supply room, a tentative smile on his youthful face. I nearly glanced behind me, but there was no mistaking who he was speaking to.

“I… didn’t ask a question.” I replied hesitantly, mind struggling to make sense of the odd interaction as I studied the man before me. His left brow was split from some barely visible scar, and his nose was ever so slightly askew, but his eyes were free of that haunted distance that had become far too common among the more war-hardened soldiers.

“Droid poppers.” He said as though that might explain everything. A moment later, I finally realized that it did, eyes widening, and his lips pulled into a broad grin, shoulders shaking with the faintest hint of laughter. My mouth opened, but I was too surprised to fathom a response.

“Jester.” He offered stealing a few slow steps closer., and I couldn’t quite hide the wince, but he only laughed harder.

“Feel like I might owe you an apology for that.” I offered with a sympathetic chuckle.

“Well, I did have a couple more… exciting names I would have preferred, but…” he shrugged, “I kind of earned it.” The ease of his aloofness was a stark balm to the heaviness of the past several days, and I readily welcomed that lightness with a smile of my own.

“I don’t think that was a trick question.” I belatedly retorted, instantly earning an animated eyeroll.

“But it was definitely meant to make me look like a damn fool.” I couldn’t help but snicker, nose scrunching with a knowing smirk.

“Just be glad I sent you to Wrecker instead of Tech.” He let out a heavy huff at my response.

“Tech was there.” He stated flatly, and I let out an unapologetic snort. “I think he’s going to try to make my entire batch repeat basic chemistry…”

“But now you know how to make an incendiary grenade from spare parts.” I teased. His shoulders dropped, brows furrowing above a fond glare.

“Yeah. Several ways, in fact.” He drawled, earning another bout of laughter from me.

“He’s… really nice.” Jester’s voice fell into a near whispered, expression softening with a touch of remorse.

“Yeah,” I murmured quietly, “He really is… They all are.” I added, but the skeptical look he shot me drew a knowing chuckle even as I tried to suppress it. “They are.” I pressed. “Just… need to earn it, first.” His gaze fell at that, jaw shifting stiffly as that remorse grew.

“I tried to apologize… He wouldn’t even let me finish.”

“Words… don’t really matter much to him.” I explained gently. “You reached out… And since Crosshair was there and you don’t have any black eyes, I’m assuming you did it respectfully.” He let out a quiet huff.

“Thanks.” He whispered after a brief moment of silence. I didn’t have to wait long before he continued. “I needed some sense knocked into me… would have preferred you do it in a less embarrassing way, but…” His eyes rose back to meet mine. “Thanks.”

“Let’s not make a habit of it.” I replied, words quiet before drawing a deep breath and glancing back at the still empty crate. “You got out of it last time, but, since you’re here, how about you help me pack for our next mission?” That beaming smile instantly returned to his lips as he eagerly started toward me.

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Classic. 😂

Sweet and 🔥

Echo x Fem!Reader

Summary

When you accidentally overhear Hunter confronting Echo with his feelings for you, you take your chance and make the first step.

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 4116

Warnings: No warnings! Just enjoy sensual juicy Echo fluff! 🍓♥️

AO3

That karking flap broke.

You sit in a maintenance shaft inside the Marauder and press one part of the flap against the rogue one, rolling your eyes theatrically even though no one can see you, waiting for the spaceworthy superglue to finally do its job.

You can live with doing repairs, letting your hands do the magic but you absolutely hate having to be still, waiting five karking minutes for the glue to finally dry. Your restless mind tells your body to flounder but you try to keep it under control - you don't want to ruin the end result. Then you'd have to do it all over again. Another five minutes of absolute boredom.

“...and we should get two or three regulators as spare parts, the current ones seem to be at the end of their lifespan and become increasingly unreliable." Echo and Hunter enter the Marauder and approach the back where you are stuck in the maintenance shaft with a small mesh separating you from the corridor with the two men.

You don't want to eavesdrop and prepare yourself for the classic “ahem" to show them you're here when Hunter starts talking.

“Enough about the spare parts...let's talk about the mechanic."

O-o...did you do something wrong? Or right? Is it still a good idea to pretend to clear your throat?

“What about her?" Echo asks. He looks a bit annoyed. Maybe you did do something wrong.

The idea that Echo would be upset with you hurts - ever since the crew of the Marauder commissioned your boss's shop to do the repairs you had your eyes on him but never got anything in return. He was stiff, distant, uptight and all about work and his constantly gloomy, slightly grumpy mood didn't help establish a communication either. You had almost made your peace with the idea that for some reason he just didn’t like you. Almost…you couldn’t help yourself and still kept on trying to get close to him, start some smalltalk or catch his eye.

Maybe Hunter noticed that you tried to get his attention and wanted to check with Echo if it bothered him or affected your work...and get someone else if it did. And you genuinely thought you chose a subtle approach to show Echo you're interested. Obviously you didn't. It apparently upset Echo and got Hunter's attention. You weren’t subtle - just very unprofessional.

The embarrassment you feel is overwhelming. You got carried away when all you had to do was repair a spaceship while it made landfall. Maybe they'll even tell your boss about it. You feel so sheepish...the very idea that your boss will learn about it and confront you with your misbehavior makes you want to curl up and die.

“I've seen the way you look at her" Hunter answers and raises an eyebrow...as far as you can see through the mesh.

You stare at the scene with eyes wide open. Is this going in a different direction than you thought?

Echo purses his lips.

“And what way would that be?"

Hunter gives him a warm smile and touches his shoulder.

“Echo…just stop pretending. I know you have feelings for her."

Echo clenches his jaw and is visibly upset with Hunter's approach - he surely doesn‘t want him to address this topic so openly. He takes a step back to get away from his touch and is about to say something but Hunter is faster.

“Don't try to deny it. Enhanced senses, remember?”

Echo's cheeks are flushed red now. He furrows his brows and groans.

"Doesn't matter. I have different priorities."

Hunter raises an eyebrow at him again.

“We both know that's not the real reason. Why don't you give it a shot? I think she really likes you."

Echo angrily stares at Hunter for an awfully long time. It is pretty obvious that he feels that his sergeant overstepped.

“It's really none of your business“ he grunts. “Now if you don't have any more questions about the spare parts I ask to be dismissed."

Hunter scoffs. Since they've been on the run he's never been so formal that he would dismiss one of his crew. You'd be surprised if he'd played that game before Order 66 at all. This team didn't seem to follow the strict military rules anyway – probably with the exception of Echo.

Hunter gives Echo a nod and shortly looks in the direction of the mesh that's hiding you and the bits of the maintenance flap you glued together. Adrenaline flushes you and you hold your breath. Did he see you?

But then he quickly turns around and leaves the Marauder.

A few days later you find yourself in the Marauder alone with Echo, doing repairs while the others explore the planet. Of course the conversation between Hunter and Echo never left your mind and you don’t know how to feel about being alone with him.

Echo...he had feelings for you... something you wished so much but didn't dare to hope for. But ever since that moment in the maintenance shaft you felt even more flustered in his presence. Knowing about his feelings could have made you feel confident, but you are just nervous when he's in the room – and even more now, that you're alone. After all he clearly rejected the idea of taking it further, he had no intention of acting on his feelings. 'We both know that's not the real reason' Hunter said to Echo.

Whatever the reason is - maybe he just needed a little push?

You both work in the Marauder, silently, separately on different stations. Echo keeps the conversation on a professional level and keeps his distance. You sometimes peek over to him, try to catch his eye. Sometimes he looks back at you very shortly, but immediately looks away when your eyes meet. The whole morning is the very definition of awkward.

A quiet beeping informs you that it's time for the lunch break. In a way you've been looking forward to it, hoping it will give you the chance to talk to Echo, maybe exchange as smile or so. But now that it's time you're afraid it will be an embarrassing disaster of uncomfortable silence.

You go over to the tactical stations in the back of the Marauder - two identical working spaces on opposite sides of the fuselage. Both of you lean against the consoles and face each other. Echo gives you a forced smile and a formal nod, then he bites into the GAR standard ration, a brown cylindrical and very dry bar that tastes like cardboard. A loveless piece of food for clone troopers that contains all vitamins, proteins and other nutrients a hard-working soldier needs, carefully balanced to match the average calories a genetically standardized man requires when he performs his standard tasks in a standard environment. Not one bit about this bar is about taste, indulgence, enjoyment. It was made for assets that are supposed to spend the shortest time possible eating to be as productive as they can be.

The fact that it was Hunter who insisted on providing you with lunch today - and you’re sure it’s definitely not a bar like that - tells you that no one in this team has to eat those tasteless abominations of food anymore. Still that's what Echo has for lunch. And you get it. It's all he knows, all he's ever known and whatever kinds of food he got to know on his missions he still keeps on coming back to the standard bars. It is part of his routine, something that grounds him, something familiar.

You nod back and open your lunchbox. You are well aware that his formal behavior is just his way to deal with the awkwardness of the situation. Now that you know he has feelings for you it's easier to look behind his distant facade. He is just afraid of this moment as you are, being alone with each other, being expected to come up with some clever topics for small talk or having to face uncomfortable silence instead, with the sounds of your chewing and swallowing filling the room.

You open your lunch box, see the mouthwatering wholemeal sandwich with fresh salad and cheese Hunter got you - and laugh in surprise when you see the treat he put in the compartment for dessert.

Strawberries.

Of all the food you love, this is what you love most.

You never thought he'd get you strawberries!

And of course Hunter picked the perfect strawberries - you expected nothing less. His enhanced senses surely helped and you have no doubt that they will taste as good as they look - deep red, ripe and juicy, their sweet scent filling the air, watering your mouth. Perfect, just perfect!

A smile spreads all over your face. This is such a lovely gesture from the sergeant. A few days ago you mentioned that you grew them in your garden as a child, how much you always looked forward to the time of the year when they got ripe, how much you’d love to eat them again.

But you never thought he'd surprise you with strawberries for your lunchbreak! You didn't even know it was possible to get them on this planet.

Your smile keeps on growing. One could say it’s just food but these are strawberries! They are never ’just fruit’. A little treat during rough times. And knowing that it is a kind gesture from Hunter makes them even better.

You look over to Echo who already takes the second bite of the tasteless bar and tries to look like someone who doesn't feel uncomfortable in your presence but in such a peculiar way that it is hard to miss how he really feels about the situation.

You look down at the strawberries. Their seductive scent must have reached him and his unsavory GAR ration by now. You look up to him and finally break the silence.

"Have you ever tried strawberries?“ you ask and hold one of the thick red fruit up.

Echo looks over, surprised about your attempt to start a conversation.

“Erm... no" he answers.

"Would you like to try one?“ you ask tentatively and hope he will take the bait.

"Sure, why not" Echo answers and tries to make it sound as casually as he can.

He doesn't know what he just started…at least not yet.

But soon he will.

You get up and with a pounding heart you slowly move the hand with the strawberry in his direction. He reaches for it but you ignore that. You have no intention of giving it to him...at least not this way. You lift your hand up to his face and place the strawberry in front of his mouth, tip forward.

Echo's eyes widen and you see panic in them. He swallows hard and you can feel his breath flowing over your fingers, his mouth still closed, his mind racing. This is not what he signed up for.

You keep your eyes on his even though he doesn't dare to look back into yours. Your pounding heart is the only proof that time isn’t standing still right now.

Echo blinks a few times, irritated, his body frozen. The tension is killing you. And him. You can see his mind working. He said he wanted to try one so he can't tell you he made up his mind just like that. It would be rude.

"The tip is the best part of it” you rasp to break the unbearable silence - and he finally opens his mouth. You feel his warm breath on your skin before he slowly bites off the tip.

You leave your eyes on his and slowly retreat the hand with the remaining half of the strawberry to stick it in your own mouth and eat it. He's still not returning your look while he chews slowly and finally swallows. He shows no reaction to its taste - his mind is probably somewhere else, dealing with your move, trying to process, trying to not give his feelings away, trying to get in control of the situation again.

"You want another one?“ you ask him.

Echo finally looks at you. The panic hasn't left his eyes. He doesn't answer. You see his chest heave quickly under his armor. Your little assault was probably a bit too much for him but you don't see a ‘no’ in his eyes either so you take another strawberry and offer it to him.

His lips are still parted, his breath warm against your fingers and this time it takes only a few breaths before he takes a bite. You eat the other half again and don't bother asking, you just take another strawberry and offer it to him.

He still takes his time before his lips enclose the tip of the fruit but he is not as hesitant as before. You give him a rushed and nervous smile and he gives you one back. Just for half a second, just really quickly, but a smile nonetheless, an unmistakable sign of his consent. Finally...

When you give him the next strawberry you allow your eyes to wander down to his delicious lips, slightly wet and juicy from the treats you’ve been feeding him. Irresistible. You watch their every move when he takes the next bite, watch them gently enclose the tip of the strawberry and suck lightly when he finally bites it off. You breath through your mouth, infatuated by the sight, flustered by the sensuality of his lips, captivated by a little drop of juice running down the corner of his mouth.

Before you can think about it your hand is already at his cheek. You run your thumb over his chin, gently wipe away the juice. You lock eyes - this time he doesn't look away - and you slowly retreat your hand to suckle the juice off of your thumb before you eat your half of the strawberry.

Even though your eyes are on his you see him swallow hard.

You take another strawberry and offer it to him. Everything's in slow motion now. Your hand, his lips, his breath flowing over your fingers...

Your eyes are still locked.

You can see that he’s nervous but so are you. Echo accepts your gift another time and you eat the rest.

You reach for the next strawberry when you realize that Echo already has one in his hand - looks like he finally put his unsavory bar down and wants to return the favor. He’s moving it slowly towards your mouth, his eyes firmly on yours. His hand is shaking - you have no idea how in the universe you managed to keep yours steady all the time. You slowly lift your hand and hold his, stabilize it in front of your lips. His ashen skin feels cold, almost as if it had been waiting for your warm touch. You both move the tip of the strawberry closer.

Your mouth is slightly open. This time it is you who lets him feel your breath on his skin. You take your time before you put your lips around the tip, even dare to stick out your tongue a bit to lick over the underside of the strawberry before you slowly take what's yours.

Echo knows what's supposed to come next - the other half is his. Your hand is still on his, gently guides it towards his mouth. But when he gets there you stop him.

He doesn't understand, you can see it in his eyes...you hold your position for a few breaths and then start moving - very slowly, very carefully. You don't want him to get too eager and eat it. Not yet. After all there is a reason why you bit off only a small part of the strawberry. The fruit is juicy and still very defined where you bit it off... it's perfect, it’s just the way you need it to be.

You slowly guide his hand closer to his mouth and run the juicy part of the remaining strawberry over his lips. First the lower lip, left to right, then the upper lip, his breath fast and hot on your fingers all the time. When both his lips are glistening with juice you finally let him eat the rest.

Your eyes are now firmly locked, tied together by an invisible force. Your hand searches for the next strawberry and finally finds it. You feed him the tip again and are just about to put the other half in your mouth when he softly runs his cold fingers over yours, still trembling lightly, but a lot less than before. And he guides your hand to run the remaining strawberry over your lips now.

It took you until this moment to notice that he bit off a lot less than before too - he is a fast learner.

You breath through your mouth, excited, aroused, drawn to this man, let him feel your hot breath on his cold skin, let him hear every breath you draw, let him hear the shuddering, let him see how close you are to losing your composure while he wets your lips with the sweet strawberry juice. The tension is almost unbearable…how you wish he'd let go of the strawberry and brush his lips over yours...

... but he's not there yet. He feeds you the remaining half and waits for your next move when he takes another strawberry and offers it to you.

Your patience has left for a hunger that can no longer be controlled. You suck the tip of the strawberry hard and suggestively, leaving no questions open, before you bite off the tip with so much passion that your desire is on full display. Then you take his hand with the remaining part, move it close to his mouth, a fierce, determined look in your eyes - and run it over his lips before you run it over the corner of his mouth and wet the skin on his cheek. You don't bother feeding him the rest and satisfy your own hunger by finally moving forward, your lips close to him, finally kissing the juice off of his cheeks and the corner of his mouth before you move on to his lips, gently lick the juice off, your hot breath mixing with his until you finally kiss, softly, sensually, hungrily tasting each other, your strawberry lips, your strawberry tongues, your strawberry saliva.

Echo pulls you closer and you lean your body against his, feel his armor, hard plastoid keeping a physical distance but also intriguing, reminding you of his hard physically demanding work. You reach for the blacks under his chest plate and grab them tightly, pull him closer too, let him feel your grip on his skin while you indulge more and more in each other's taste.

Your free hand still holds the rest of the strawberry and you move it up, run it over the sensitive spot at his cheek right under the place where his ear is covered by the head piece and you move it slowly down towards his neck, move it across his throat and further down from there, then break the kiss and follow the juicy trail with your lips. Echo moans softly and you feel the vibrations under your kisses. He tastes so good…it’s not just the strawberry, not even primarily the sweet fruit, it's him, his unique taste, manly and slightly salty, making the strawberry juice a faint refinement of an already perfect taste.

Echo takes the strawberry remains from you and runs them over your skin, starting under your ear, going on over your sensitive neck and moving closer to your neckline. You slowly pull the zipper of your jumpsuit down, brush the fabric over your shoulder to expose your skin and he gasps quietly and continues his trail on your collar bone. Then he gently kisses the juice off, adds little licks while he's on his way, flickers his tongue over your skin in such a skillful way it robs you of your senses when you realize the promise that lies within. You gasp quietly, feel his hot breath on your skin, hear his little moans, let out little gasps of pleasure and forget the world around you when he...

"Hey Echo, look what we got at the..." Omega's cheerful voice cuts through the air and you quickly let go of each other and stare into her curious face. Wrecker comes through the door, relaxed and in a good mood until he sees your surprised faces, your exposed shoulder, the reddish strawberry juice on your skin and both your red cheeks. He quickly covers Omega's eyes from behind but she loudly complains and squirms her way out of his grip. She is just about to say something when Hunter rushes in, quite obviously to stop them but already aware that he's too late. He could probably sense that the two of you were making out when he was still outside...

Your eyes shortly meet Hunter's and suddenly you realize...

... he must have known that you were in the maintenance bay when he asked Echo about his feelings for you. He couldn't have missed that, not with his enhanced senses. And it was not like this was an ongoing conversation when they entered the corridor.

He started that conversation.

He chose this topic.

He brought it up.

On purpose.

Knowing that you'd be there to listen to him.

Knowing that the chances that you'd make a first move would be a lot higher than Echo's.

And then the strawberries...the strawberries he found for you the very day when you and Echo would be alone on the Marauder. Which was probably something he scheduled on purpose too.

He had planned all this.

You are not sure if you should feel played or if you should be grateful because he gave you the chance to get closer to the man whose touch you craved so much. You would never have taken the chance if you hadn't learned that he has feelings for you.

Hunter looks over to Wrecker and Omega while Tech enters the Marauder.

"You know what? Why don't we explore the city a little more and go to the holo cinema tonight? No need to hang around at the ship, we have that everyday" the sergeant asks.

Wrecker is over the moon and pushes Hunter‘s shoulder a little too enthusiastically.

“Awesome!"

He looks over to Omega who peeks in Hunter's direction and smirks.

“What a shame that these two can't join us. I take it they have to continue with the repairs until late at night?" she says and winks.

Hunter blushes. He wasn't prepared for Omega to understand what he‘s up to. You look over to Echo - his cheeks are flushed red. He just begins to realize that Hunter played Cupid.

Tech adjusts his googles.

“In this case I will stay here too and support the remaining repairs. It is imperative that...”

“Nooooo Tech!” Wrecker interrupts him with his loud voice. “I don't think that's necessary!”

Tech gives him an irritated look – refusing his offer to support repairs is probably one of the most offensive things he knows in his world. Omega quickly picks up on his face and steps in.

“Yeah...you know there's only limited space where they have to work and you'd be in each others' way...”

“Besides...” Hunter adds and wraps his arm around Tech “I chose the movie specifically for you. It's called 'A beautiful mind'. You're gonna love it. It's about a mathematician who...” Hunter gently guides Tech outside and gives the two of you one last look with a grin.

Wrecker rubs his neck before he starts to talk loudly.

“Well...erm...you...you just go on with the repairs...and stuff...you know...erm...”

Omega giggles takes his hand and pulls him towards the door.

“Let's see if we can get Mantell mix on this planet. No movie without junk food!”

Wrecker gratefully accepts the pull-out and Omega gives you a last wink before they leave the two of you alone.

Echo and you look at each other and laugh nervously. And now that everyone has left you realize that someone - probably Hunter - left you something at the Marauder‘s door. It’s probably what Omega wanted to show Echo when she ran in on you.

It‘s a basket with a huge variety of fruit.

Very juicy ones.

Echo didn’t miss them either. He rubs his neck and gives you an apologetic look.

“Well that’s embarrassing…“

You give him a nervous smile.

“It is…“

But then you summon up all your courage and firmly look into his eyes.

“I don’t mind at all. Do you?“

Writer’s Notes:

This fic was inspired by two wonderful fics about Echo and strawberries: Lush Meadows by @the-rain-on-kamino and Strawberries by @arcsimper5.

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It’s so funny how in The Bad Batch 3.01 “Confined,” Crosshair and Batcher are parallel characters:

• Omega visits both of them regularly. While they are confined, she has some amount of freedom within Tantiss.

• Both are initially closed off/withdrawn and antagonistic toward her.

• But, through continual positive interactions with Omega, they grow attached to her. (You could say she domesticated *both of them* … as others joked about here! 😂)

• Both of them are hurt — Batcher, physically and Crosshair, emotionally/physically — and Omega helps them both to heal.

• Both of their lives are threatened because of Omega’s actions. Batcher is slated for termination after Omega domesticates her; and Hemlock threatens to kill Crosshair if Omega’s misbehavior continues.

• Omega eventually frees both of them, and they both prove crucial in their collective escape in Episode 3.03. (Note: all three of them escape Tantiss the same way — via Batcher’s kennel chute.)

• Both Batcher and Crosshair are always ready to Square Up ™️ anytime someone threatens Omega.

• “S/he deserves a chance.”

• Hemlock only ever uses their designations — CT-9904 and LH-201. Omega only ever uses their names.

• The irony of Hemlock saying “actions always have consequences — sometimes not in the ways we imagine”… He literally arms Omega with two individuals who help in her first escape, and pairs her with Emerie who helps with the second escape. And later, Crosshair and Omega team up with Hunter to kill Hemlock. None of this would’ve happened if Hemlock had supervised Omega more closely, or not given her as many freedoms during her initial stay.

• Same thing with “Emotion and sentiment have no place within these walls. You would do well to remember that” … considering it’s the Bad Batch’s love for each other that causes Hemlock’s downfall.

• Omega refuses point blank to leave either of them behind throughout S3. “I wasn’t going to leave without you.” / “I’m not abandoning her.”

• Also, Batcher and Crosshair save Hunter together in 3.05. 😂

• Batcher almost exclusively follows Crosshair in 3.05. But, after he reconciles with Hunter and Wrecker in that episode, Batcher seems more comfortable hanging out with Hunter and Wrecker too. Like, she fully integrates into the family when Crosshair does.

There are probably others, but that’s all I got for now. 😅

More clones!

“Please, may I have some more?”

@vodika-vibes absolutely positively nailed this one. It’s perfect. 💖

#i was scriggling - screaming and giggling # I might have to read this 10 more times today

Sugarpop

Summary: Loving Cody is easy. It is too easy, for all that he doesn’t and will never feel the same way. But, maybe you can turn your attention to someone who’s been waiting for you to see him.

Pairing: One-sided Cody x F!Reader, Pre Bly x Reader

Word Count: 1500

Warnings: Reader gets kidnapped and starved.

A/N: It was just too cold to write this morning, lol. But I've warmed up since then and I love Bly, so here it is.

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From the day you met him, you’ve loved Cody.

You love his smile, his quiet jokes, and how you feel safe when you’re with him. You love the way his eyes crinkle when he’s genuinely happy, and the way his nose scrunches when he’s disgusted.

And he’ll never feel the same way.

Oh, you don’t doubt that he’s fond of you. He’s always happy to see you, and he enjoys how you’re happy to cook for him and his brothers, though he teases you about using them as taste testers, rather than cooking for them because you want to do something nice.

He’s protective of you, and your time, and you know he’ll never allow anyone to take advantage of you, or harm you, so long as he’s around.

But he doesn’t love you.

And it’s fine.

Really.

He doesn’t have to love you. You aren’t entitled to his love just because you loved him first. You’re happy having his affection and his friendship. You are.

Sure, some nights you lay in bed and fantasize about what-if. 

What if he did love you? What if he looked at you like you look at him? What if, when you’re with him, his stomach flips and his heart clenches? What if he lays in bed and thinks about you?

Most nights, however, those thoughts turn into tears.

But, no one knows about it. The only one who knows your silent grief is your comforter, and it doesn’t tell stories.

And so, you go on day by day. Greeting Cody with bright smiles and light jokes, and when he shows up with a girlfriend, you greet her politely and make sure that she doesn’t have any food allergies, and you treat her like a friend.

Sure, maybe she doesn’t last longer than a month or, in one situation, an evening, but you’re still kind and polite.

It’s ironic, you’ve actually managed to make some friends with his exes. 

And you know Cody appreciates it. He told you, once, that he was glad that you were so welcoming to the people around you, and then he continued by telling you that you’re too nice for your own good.

You can’t help how you are as a person, and so you wave off his concerns when he brings it up. It doesn’t matter, in the long run, because he has all of his brothers looking out for you.

So, you suppose, if you want to be accurate, you have to admit that he does love you. But he loves you like a friend loves a friend, not like how a man loves a woman.

At least he’s still in your life, even if it’s not how you want. You just have to take what you can get.

But, all the same, when you’re kidnapped several months later due to your friendship with several Marshal Commanders, you know that no one will come for you.

All you can do is keep your mouth shut and pretend that you don’t know what your kidnapper is asking. You can’t do much, but you can protect them at least a little.

You’re not sure how long it’s been. There’s no way to tell what time of day it is here in the cell that has been your room since you were snatched from your apartment. 

It must have been at least a month. At this point someone must have noticed that you went missing, right?

It’s not like your kidnapper was subtle about snatching you, seeing as they kicked open the door and destroyed your apartment in the process of kidnapping you.

Of course, who would they send to save you? The Guard? The Police?

No one?

The idea of dying in a tiny cell so far from home, so far from the people you love most, makes you want to cry. But you stop yourself before you can start. You only get a single cup of water a day.

You can’t afford to waste it.

Just as you wrap your thin blanket around you, and are considering moving to the other side of the thin cot that has been your bed for who even knows how long, you think you hear the sound of blaster fire.

Your gaze flickers towards the door of your cell as the sound gets louder and louder.

And then, you hear a voice. Familiar in the way that all clone voices are familiar.

“Here! I found it!” You hear some scuffling from outside the door, and then what you assume is a curse in Mando’a. Then, finally, the door slides open and stays open.

The man on the other side of the door is wearing white armor with yellow markings. Familiar yellow markings.

“...Bly?”

“You’re a hard lady to find, Sugarpop.” You scrunch up your nose at the nickname. Yeah. It’s Bly. He’s the only person in the galaxy who calls you Sugarpop.

“It’s not like I did it intentionally.”

“I know.” He steps into the cell and with surprisingly gentle hands, he coaxes you to your feet, “How are you? Are you hurt anywhere?”

“...I’m hungry. And cold.”

“I bet you are. No shoes?”

“They took them so I couldn’t run away.”

“Fuckers. We should have killed them slower.”

He really shouldn’t sound so cheerful when saying that. But it doesn’t actually bother you.

“Bly?”

“Yeah, Sugarpop?”

“Can I go home now?”

He stills and then a slightly strangled laugh fall from him, “Well, you see…”

“Bly?”

“We’re not on Coruscant.” He says hurriedly, “We’re actually in the outer rim. You’ve been a guest of the Hutt Cartel for the better part of 6 months.”

You stare at him, “Six…?”

“Yeah, Sugarpop. Six.”

“...my job…my apartment?”

“Ah, well…the Jedi did what they could, but both your boss and your landlord decided that you were dead three months in and you lost both.”

“Oh.”

“But, it’ll work out!” Bly sets his hands on your shoulders, and you can almost see his brow furrow through his visor, “You’ve lost weight. A lot of weight.”

“Well…well…I probably needed to anyway…” You offer, feeling slightly numb.

“Bullshit, you were perfect.”

You blink at him again, “Thank you?”

“We’ll get you healthy again, and you can help out in the kitchen.” Bly offers cheerfully as he guides you out of the cell and lifts you over a pile of broken droids, “It’ll be great.”

“There are a lot of droids here,” You mumble, more to yourself, as you nudge something away with your foot.

“Yeah, looks like the Hutts are working with the Seppies.” Bly glances at you, “You know what, Sugarpop? I think I’m just going to carry you.”

“You don’t have to—”

He scoffs as he scoops you into his arms, “Have to? Please. I’d pay for the honor.”

You stare at him, even as you slide your arms around his neck so you feel more secure, “Bly?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you flirting with me? While rescuing me?”

He glances at you, “Yeah. I am.” Bly glances away, “Cody’s a blind idiot if he can’t see how you look at him.”

Your face burns, “I wasn’t trying to be transparent…”

“You weren’t Sugarpop. I just watch you a lot.” Lightly, he bumps his helmet against your forehead, “Just waiting for the day you look at me like that.”

Bly steps over a pile of something that was probably a person at one point, and you drop your head to his shoulder. As he walks, you go back through all of the conversations you remember having with Bly, and slowly you come to a realization.

“Bly, have you been flirting with me since we met?”

He laughs, “You’re just now noticing? Oh, Sugarpop, we need to give you lessons on being more observant.”

You huff and nudge him gently, “Don’t be mean. Humans are notoriously bad at detecting flirting.”

“Yeah, well…” He pauses for a moment to kick a door open, “Cody’s an idiot and I’m right here if you want to turn those pretty eyes on me.”

“Just like that?”

“Hey, I’m a patient guy. And it’s a long flight back to Coruscant.” He carefully sets you back on your feet and he lifts his helmet to rest on top of his head, “I think you’ll find that I’m a pretty charming guy.”

It’s at that very moment that you notice that his grin is slightly lopsided and that his eyes are a few shades lighter than Cody’s. And it almost feels like a betrayal when your stomach flips nervously.

“Is that your opinion?” You ask as you ignore the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

His grin widens, “Nope, lots of people have that opinion.” Something in his gaze softens, and his fingers brush your cheek, “I’m glad you’re not hurt, Sugarpop.”

A tiny smile lifts your lips, “Thank you for coming to get me, Bly.”

There’s a serious glimmer in his gaze as he takes your hand and brushes his thumb across your knuckles, “Always.”

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Sweet story about a boy and his dog, Hound and Grizzer, along with Hound’s GF. 😻

Watch and Learn, City Boy, Part 2: Autumn

A/N: This is a follow-up to Part 1, which I wrote last year. The muse struck on the autumnal equinox, and who am I to reject her overture? Yes, I switched tenses, and no, I’m not sorry. Enjoy! 

Pairing: Hound x Reader (Fem)

Rating: M (mature content intended for readers 18+; minors DNI) 

Wordcount: 2.8K

Warnings and tags: fluff; domesticity; language; little bit of SMUT; one (1) slap on the ass; tickling; pinning; allusions to bondage; Reader is a bit of a brat; Hound is a playful switch (I don’t make the rules); this isn't as kinky as it sounds; I made up pretty much everything about Alderaanian culture, holiday observances, and spirituality for this fic, so don’t take anything here as having a basis in canon.

Summary: Autumn has come to Alderaan, and you’re stuck on kriffin’ Coruscant. But Hound won’t let that stop you from celebrating.

Suggested Listening: 

This fic smells like: Hempz Apple Cinnamon Shortbread body lotion (autumn leaves; warm spices)

Part 1 | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

Grizzer launched herself off of your mattress with a ferocious snarl before you even heard the door chime. Hound startled awake with a muffled grunt, and you sat up, rubbing your eyes groggily and fumbling for your datapad to check the security holo.

“‘S goin’ on?” he mumbled.

“Groceries,” you rasped as you crawled out of bed and slipped into a robe. “I’ll take care of it. Go back to sleep.”

Grizzer was prancing triumphantly at the front door, and she greeted you with a loud, delighted snort to let you know that she had successfully repelled the invading force and secured the perimeter.

“Good girl,” you yawned. “So brave. Gonna tell Fox to give you a medal and a promotion.”

She plopped down resolutely in front of the door and refused to budge until you had administered what she deemed to be an appropriate number of scritches between the spines on her back. At length, she shuffled out of the way so you could open the door and dart out into the hallway just long enough to retrieve your grocery delivery, silently beseeching the Force not to let your well-meaning but nosy neighbors catch you in your bathrobe. Gods knew you and Hound already gave them plenty of fodder for gossip.

Once the groceries were safely inside, Grizzer had to complete an exhaustive sniff-spection of every single bag before she would allow you to put the food away, and then she gave you a meaningful look and lumbered over to the back door. You tapped the panel and shivered at the blast of cold air that rushed in as the door hissed open. 

Grizzer sauntered out to do her business on the comically tiny patch of fake grass you’d installed on your balcony once you realized she and Hound would be staying over as many nights as they could possibly sneak away from the barracks. By the time you’d finished stashing the perishables in the conservator, she was back inside and waiting for her breakfast.

You activated the cleaning droid to deal with her mess, dumped a scoop of massiff chow in her bowl, and finally returned to the bedroom. Hound’s eyes remained stubbornly closed, but he wordlessly pulled the blankets back as you climbed into bed and snuggled your ass into the nook of his body, extending his other arm for you to use as a pillow.

Stars, he’s so warm. This is the best part of my day.

You barely had time to settle in before Grizzer hopped up onto the bed, circled a few times, then flopped against you hard enough to knock the wind out of you.

“Ugh, careful with the spikes, Grizz. Don’t you have breakfast to eat?” you muttered.

Despite your grumbles, you couldn’t resist the pleading look she shot you, and you reached down to pat her lazily as she settled her chin onto your leg with a happy sigh. Kriffin’ massiff always wants to be the littlest spoon.  

You shifted, looking for a comfortable position while being smooshed between your two favorite beings, then tucked your feet closer to Hound, trying to get warm. He flinched as he felt your icy feet against his shins, but instead of pulling away, he rested his hand on your hip and drew you more firmly against his body, then slid up your torso to cup your breast. He nuzzled his face into your shoulder and pressed a kiss to your skin.

“Mornin’,” he rumbled. ”Happy equinox. I assume you've planned somethin’ festive for today?”

“Mm-hmm,” you mumbled, privately reflecting that he was using far too many words for this early on a Benduday morning. “‘S why I ordered groceries.”

He hummed his approval and began to kiss a path down your spine. “Does it involve tying me to a kitchen chair and licking a jar of honey off my skin?”

You laughed quietly and kissed the scar on his forearm that rested beneath your head. “Is that a specific fantasy you have, or are you just looking for an excuse to get me to tie you up and have my wicked way with you?”

“Two things can be true, angel.” He squeezed your breast gently, then trailed his fingertips down the centerline of your body, unerringly finding his way between your thighs. “Your feet are like kriffin’ icicles. You go on an expedition to Ilum for those groceries or somethin’?”

“Grizz was extra needy this morning,” you explained. “Mm, that feels nice. Don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured. His fingers slipped over your clit and into your pussy, and he shifted slightly to grind his cock against your ass. “Feel how hard you made me? Prancin’ around in that little thing you call a bathrobe. Probably gave the neighbors a coronary.”

“Nobody saw me,” you laughed, then gasped as he slid deeper. “At least I—fuck—I didn’t see anyone.”

“Grizz, off,” he ordered, to the massiff’s vocal disgust. Nevertheless, she complied, jumping off the bed with a huff of protest and wandering out of the bedroom in search of the breakfast she’d previously snubbed. “Guess we’ll find out if anyone saw you when they send a thank-you holocard. Damn, little one, you’re kriffin’ soaked. What were you dreamin’ about, dirty girl?”

It wasn’t a dream, it’s just you, you thought, but rather than inflate his already impressive ego, you wiggled your butt against his hips and replied in your most provocative tone. 

“Thorn.”

He laughed, then withdrew from between your thighs and gave you a firm little slap on the ass. You let out a shrill squeak and squirmed out of his arms just far enough to launch yourself off the mattress and tackle him, pinning him briefly and digging your fingers into his ribs to tickle him ruthlessly. 

Alas, your vengeance was short lived. After the briefest moment of being incapacitated by laughter, he managed to roll over on top of you, capturing your wrists and holding them against the pillow on either side of your head.

“Oh, you asked for it, darlin’,” he said with a wicked grin. 

The morning light caught in his eyes and illuminated them to honey gold. They danced with mischief, and you felt an odd flutter in your chest that you didn’t have enough time to examine before he pounced, and the only thing on your mind was holding on while your ARF trooper took you for the ride of your life.

When the pair of you finally stumbled out of bed, you mentally scratched off a few of the activities you’d planned, since you were running two hours behind schedule—a sacrifice you were more than willing to make, all things considered. There was still plenty of time to visit the Alderaanian shrine of the ancestors in the Federal District and make it home in time to cook dinner—a meal that you’d been planning with meticulous care for weeks, going to great lengths to source Alderaanian ingredients that were often difficult to find in the Core Worlds.

“You sure they’ll let me in?” Hound asked as he surveyed the entrance to the temple with obvious doubt in his eyes.

“They will,” you replied firmly. “They don’t turn anyone away. If you ever find yourself in trouble and need a place to lie low, they’ll give you sanctuary.”

“Even though I did absolutely depraved things to you an hour ago?” he murmured in your ear, sending tingles of awareness down your neck.

“... Maybe don’t mention that part.”

“You know, this whole sanctuary thing sounds a little illegal,” he joked.

“Who are you, the police?”

He snorted, then allowed you to lead him inside. The temple was crowded, and not a single person recognized Hound as a clone trooper, or if they did, nobody mentioned it. Hound was fascinated by the vibrant—not to say chaotic—energy inside. 

“The only temple I’ve ever been inside is the Jedi temple,” he said. “This one is really different.”

“I imagine so,” you laughed. “I’ve never been inside the Jedi Temple, but I’ve heard it’s really tranquil. This is… not that.”

He grinned in acknowledgment. “Do you come here every equinox?”

You shook your head. “I’m not really that observant most of the time. When I’m at home, we just have a family celebration. But here on Coruscant, it’s kind of nice to come to a place where I can meet other Alderaanians. For me, it’s really more about staying in touch with my culture, but a lot of people are very devout.”

When the pair of you finally made your way through the temple and to the shrine, he followed you inside and observed respectfully but with keen interest as you lit a stick of incense and left a small offering for the shrine guardian spirit. You were in and out in under a minute, and as the pair of you rejoined the thronging crowd headed toward the exit, Hound leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“That was quick.”

“No point in monopolizing it,” you replied under your breath. “Bad form when the temple is this busy.”

The temple wasn’t the only thing that was busy. Traffic was fully gridlocked, and the trip home took ages. By the time you arrived, you were both ravenous, which was deeply unfortunate, given that you’d planned a fairly elaborate dinner. Still, you were determined to make it work and salvage what was left of the equinox. 

Grizzer was beside herself when you walked through the door. She barreled into Hound with a delighted squeal, and he knelt down for their ritual greeting. She sat patiently until he was within reach and then, with a gentleness that was wholly improbable for a creature of her size, she touched her snout against his nose.

“I’m here, too, Grizz,” you teased, and if a massiff were capable of rolling its eyes, she would have. Nevertheless, she eagerly snuggled up to you, demanding her tribute of affection.

“Do I have time to take her for a quick  run before dinner?” Hound asked.

“I think so. It’ll be a refreshing change to cook without my reptile sous chef.”

“Don’t listen to her, Grizz,” Hound said, covering the massiff’s ear holes. “She’d be lost in the kitchen without you.”

“Oh, definitely,” you agreed solemnly. “What ever shall I do without constant supervision and the in-house quality assurance expert?”

Hound gave you a quick kiss and headed out, and you set to work, swallowing down a faint feeling of disappointment that so many of your plans had fallen through. Dinner would make up for it, though. Dinner would be perfect.. Within minutes, the entire flat began to fill with delicious smells. Everything was proceeding swimmingly. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

“Gods damn it!”

Your frustrated curse was the first thing Hound heard when he opened the door. Grizzer charged inside and skidded to a halt, prancing around the kitchen.

“Not now, sweetie,” you said, your tone softening a bit as you saw the massiff.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Hound asked.

“That karking shopper droid brought me decorative mini pumpkins instead of edible ones,” you groaned. “And to make matters worse, the pumpkin stems mutilated my Force-damned tomato.”

“Damn, looks like it got squashed,” he murmured.

“That is a terrible pun, and this is no laughing matter!”

“You’re right,” he said apologetically. “It’s an obvious case of assault with a deadly veggie.”

“Still not funny. Look at this carnage!”

You held up the mangled tomato, and he inspected it closely before gravely replying. “That’s a pretty gore-dy victim. Better shield Grizzer’s innocent eyes before she’s permanently scarred.”

You snorted, obstinately refusing to laugh. “I knew I should have just gone to the market myself.”

“Why don’t we go now?” he asked, giving up on his quest to distract you with the worst puns in the Core Worlds. “We can pick up some pumpkins that are actually edible, maybe have a little tour of the market district, get some fresh air?”

You glanced at the clock and sighed. “If we do that, we’ll be eating at midnight. I’ll figure something out.”

Grizzer whined at the sharpness in your tone, then curled up in the corner of your living room so she could keep an eye on you, sensing your frustration. You glared at the offending gourds for a moment, and would have bet every last credit of his nonexistent salary that you were contemplating hurling them into the abyss of the Coruscant underworld. Seeing how much the kriff-up had upset you, Hound ventured into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“What’s really bothering you, love?” he asked. “You’re always good at coming up with contingency plans. Is this really such a big problem that it’ll ruin your equinox?”

You sighed and leaned back against him, closing your eyes. “No. Not really. It’s just… My mom always makes this for the autumn equinox. I really wanted it to be perfect, you know?”

“You miss her.”

You nodded. “I do. I miss home, too. It’s weird to celebrate an Alderaanian equinox holiday on a planet that doesn’t even have seasons. And I really wanted this to be perfect so you could have the experience even though you weren’t able to get leave to travel back home with me, and we had to cancel almost all of our plans, and now dinner is ruined, too, and I’m just so fucking tired and hungry.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He kissed the side of your head, then turned you around slowly so he could look into your eyes. His chest squeezed when he saw the beginnings of tears in your eyes, and he brushed his thumb across your cheek to wipe them away. “It is perfect, because I’m spendin’ it with you. No place I’d rather be in the galaxy.”

“Not even a musty old tent surrounded by wolf-cats?” you muttered rebelliously.

“As tempting as that sounds—and if I recall correctly, you were extremely tempting—no. But I’d eat rations and sleep in a musty old tent every night for the rest of my life if it meant I got to wake up next to you.” He didn’t say the words he desperately wanted to. It was too soon, and he didn’t want to scare you off. Instead, he pressed his lips to your forehead and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you close. “Kriff the pumpkins. We’ll get takeout and go for a speeder bike ride in the entertainment district.”

You gasped. “Blasphemy! How dare you insinuate that I can’t salvage this disaster? Stand aside and watch the master at work.”

“That’s my girl,” he grinned. 

“Hmph,” you replied haughtily, unable to quite repress the smile at the corner of your lips.

You started toward the stove, but as you took your first step, Hound caught you by your apron ties and tugged you back into his arms for a devastating kiss. He was extremely thorough, and by the time he released you, you were dizzy and breathless, and he made damn sure you couldn’t remember that mini pumpkins even existed.

“That. Was. Incredible,” Hound said as he cleaned the last few morsels from his plate. 

“Not quite as aesthetically pleasing as Mom’s,” you hedged. 

“It was rustic,” he insisted. “Homestyle. Deconstructed.”

“You really need to stop watching cooking shows on the holonet.”

“How else will I learn all the terms to describe your food to make my brothers insane with jealousy? You think clone troopers have a reason to say ‘craveable’ on a daily basis?”

“Oh, yeah? You tell Thorn all about me?” you teased.

“Easy now, darlin’,” he replied with a lazy grin. “You’re gonna give me a complex.”

“Don’t worry, I could never leave Grizzer.”

He laughed. “Lucky thing for me.”

He leaned back in his chair and stretched, then stood up and began to clear away the dishes. You groped his ass shamelessly from your seat, then wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face against his abdomen.

“Thanks for celebrating with me,” you murmured, your voice muffled by his shirt. “I know I kind of lost the plot there.”

He set down the plates and wrapped his arms around you. “Not the first time I’ve seen you hangry; won’t be the last.”

You laughed into his belly, then tugged his shirt up so you could kiss his warm, smooth skin. “You know, there’s one equinox tradition that we haven’t observed yet.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“It involves a kitchen chair, a pair of your binders, and a jar of honey.”

“Dank farrik, I’m in love with you.” The words slipped out, and by the time Hound realized what he’d said, it was too late to call them back.

You drew back and stared up at him with an expression of shock. “What?”

“Uh…”

Kriff.

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Stud.