"Look around. We're one and the same. Same heart, same blood."
Also, unwhitewashed clones look so much better than whitewashed clones, change my mind.
"Look around. We're one and the same. Same heart, same blood."
Also, unwhitewashed clones look so much better than whitewashed clones, change my mind.
Summary: the reader, betrothed to a disgusting Coruscanti Lord flees her home world and lands herself in a plethora of trouble, a ship of clones, and one pirate captain whose cold exterior needs much more than the tropical seaside sun.
Warnings: Swearing, takes place in time periods where women have dowery's and suchlike. The readers' dad and betrothed are asses.
Chapter Fourteen: The Not-So-Required Reunion
By the time you make it to the top of the gangplank, the Sergeant is still a taut wire. So much so that he gives you an unruly shove that re-acquaints you with the floor of the Havoc Marauder. You get lost in the fabric of your coat, and Gonk goes rolling from your arms, across the wooden deck like a ball.
“I see you haven't changed much.” Crosshair stands above you, arms folded over one another. Looking down at you with a smirk on his face. You manage a smile before an unknown force picks you up.
“Aaray!” Wrecker says, plopping you down on your feet before enveloping you in a bone crushing hug.
“Wrecker-” You squeak in pain from where you’re still bruised.
“Let her go, it’s not even been half a day since we parted ways.” Tech tells his brother sternly. Crouching on his knees to collect a very dizzy Moon Dragon. “Sergeant.” He nods at Hunter, who has boarded his ship as well. His hat, which flew from your head when you fell, is also picked up and brushed off before he puts it back on.
“Will you tell me what's going on now?” You ask, finally tying the matching belt for your coat around your waist. You’re still fairly messy, but with clean clothing you feel more put together now.
“A Coruscant search team arrived just before you did.” A new voice states. It’s not angry per-say, it’s more monotone, straightforward. Lacking Hunters gravel-y tones, Wreckers enthusiasm, Crosshairs drawl, and Techs perk.
“So you’re Nythons wife.” He says, this man is clearly a clone as well. His facial features and stature tell you that much. But his hair is lighter and patchy. While it’s closer to Crosshair’s colour, speckled with darker parts, it’s clear from the way his muscles hang on his body he’s malnourished.
“Not his wife.” You correct, “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
“You didn't have anything to say about it.” Crosshair points out, a toothpick pointing at you as if to prove his argument.
“Crosshair.” Hunter chides. Where this sudden protectiveness comes from, you have no idea.
“It’s nice to put a name to a face, Echo.” You ignore the others when you feel his hesitant hand slip into your own. While he looks rough, the shake is firm.
“Thanks, should I be worried about what this lot said about me?” He raises an eyebrow at Clone Force 99.
“I don’t think they have room to criticize. So no, you needn’t worry.” You tell him, before letting go of his hand, to turn to Tech and take a squirming Gonk from his arms.
“Needn’t?” Echo chuckles. “You are a proper lady, arnt ya?” Gonk, continues to squirm in your grasp, while you try and juggle her, she manages to flop her wings and feet around until she’s out of your arms. Before trying her very best to fly and jump her way towards the door under the stairs.
“Kriffing hells, couldn't you have left that thing behind?” Hunter grumbles walking past you, in order to get to the wheel to raise anchor. “Tech chart a course to the Mustafar Islands.”
“Sarge, that's quite the trip, going through the Hydian way and the Kessel Currents.” Tech responds looking unsure.
“It’s our best bet at outrunning Nythons men.” He grunts with exhaustion from raising the anchor. And it looks like Tech has more to say, but he’s distracted as he notices Crosshair walking towards the gangplank.
“Cross?” He asks, leaning over the side of the ship. Looking into the crowd of people below.
“We need to leave.” The taller one responds, nodding towards the men clad in red and brown armor. When you move to try and see what's going on, Crosshair gives you a not so gentle shove backwards.
“Stay down.” He whisper-yells at you through clenched teeth.
“This man handling is getting really old, really fast guys.” You state, annoyed. Hunter slides past you as well to look at the coruscant guard that's doubling as a search team.
“Look like anyone we might know?” He asks leaning nonshalontly against the railing.
“If you’re referring to Fox and his men,” Tech inquires, “Then no, none of those men appear to be clones at all in fact.”
“They’ll be checking all of the ships.” Echo adds. “We need to hurry up.” He immediately heads over to start working on one of the ship's sails.
“Wait.” Hunter says holding up his arm in a signal that must mean ‘stop’. He looks over at the search team again, and frowns. Rubbing his temple he sighs, “They’ll never let us out of the harbour if we leave now.” He looks at you from under the brim of his hat. “You really are a pain in the ass.”
Your body feels cold as a shiver runs through it. Where was the kind man who came to your aid? He was in your presence just moments ago. Nython. You think to yourself. Something about Nython makes him this way. Maker, what must he think of you?
“I have apologised.” You say hopelessly.
“Not now.” Hunter tells you curtly. Striding over to you, he invades your personal space. Your breath hitches in anticipation for whatever kind of argument he wants to have. It hitches in a completely different way when you feel his hand on the curve of your back.
“Crosshair,” he says over his shoulder, so close to you, you could lean into his chest.
“signal the search team. Make them check the ship so we can set sail.” His words quieten down when he looks back from giving the order, you see the hints of stubble on his face. Hunter pushes gently where his hand meets you. Firm, but warm, his touch feels safe and dangerous in the best kind of way. He makes your body feel the same way it does after drinking whiskey. Cozy contentment that flutters in your soul.
You barely register where he’s taking you, it could be back to the brig, to lock you away and lead the search team back to you. But Hunter doesn't even go near the stairs. Instead he makes a beeline to his private quarters. He pauses before the doors, as if he’s thinking about letting you into his personal space. He takes a deep breath in, and lets it out before pushing the door open.
It’s a mess. The bed that’s built into the wall is covered in maps and tools and clothes that look dirtier than you feel. Next to the bed, the wall gives way to an open door. You look to him to confirm your suspicions, and he leads you over to the closet wordlessly. Kicking aside a crate of something, he gestures into the small space.
You step inside the mostly empty space, and when he starts shutting the door your hands flies out.
“What is it?” He asks, he tries to make it sound nice but it comes out stressed and agitated instead.
“You have no idea what this means to me.” You tell him, more honestly than you’ve ever been in your entire life.
“I know.” He says, it looks like he’s going to say something else, before he thinks better of it and closes the door to the closet, throwing a blanket of darkness over you.
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“Are you the captain?” One of Nython’s men asks when they board. Giving each member of the Bad Batch a once over.
“Who’s asking?” Hunter can’t help but sneer.
“Lord Nython, is asking.” He responds as if that’ll phase Hunter, like the shock value will put him in his place. The sergeant doesn’t move.
“And what does Lord Nython want on Alderaan?” Tech pipes up, trying to defuse the situation.
“His wife.” The man says plainly. “She went missing almost three nights ago, suspected kidnapping.” Tech does not like the way the search team is looking at them. “If you ask me…” he says walking closely to Hunter, and knocking his hat off with the barrel of his blaster, to get a proper look of his face.
“It’s the kind of thing someone looking for revenge would do.” He begins stalking the ship, looking for anything that's out of place. “Take captive an innocent helpless woman who can’t defend herself.” Hunter wants to scoff at that.
“Poor girl.” Tech says, eyes begging Hunter to keep his cool.
“Kind of thing Clones would do, don’t you think?” The grimace the man wears now is evident.
“Being a Clone is not a crime. Didn’t the empire make that inherently obvious?” Hunter says, thinking about the troopers who were used, and cast aside.
“Search the ship.” He spits out, turning away from the captain as his men start ripping the Havoc Marauder apart.
Wrecker stands behind Crosshair on the Poop Deck. They make an intimidating pair, with Crosshair's glare and Wrecker’s imposing stature, plus the fact they reside on the highest park of the ship, no member of the search team wants to venture towards them.
“Step aside, Clone.” Someone says, voice wavering. Hand rushing to his blaster when Crosshair simply raises an eyebrow.
“She couldn’t be up here…” Another whispers. Craning his neck around to see behind Wrecker.
“Run along.” Crosshair says, and while it’s not a threat, it certainly sounds like one. And as the two head back down the stairs, both him and Wrecker catch their mumbled:
The leader of the search team, who also happens to be the head of Volim Nythons guard, stalks around the ship like a Blurg. And with Hunter’s heightened senses, he smells like one as well. And he hears your heart rate increase from outside the captain's quarters when Colo Harik kicks the door open.
“And why would she be hiding here?” Hunter asks, arms crossed.
“There’s no telling what filth like you get up to.” Harik says, looking around. Eyes landing on the desk filled with scattered papers.
“What complex morality you must have. Colo Harik.” Hunter says, eyes darkening. He was waiting for this moment, for him to make the connection. Tech would be imploding now, begging Hunter to keep quiet because they don’t need to give this man any more reasons to arrest them.
“Should I know your face?” Harik enquiries non-shaltonly. Picking up the star medallion that rests on Hunter's desk.
“No.” Hunter says, forgetting you’re in the room with them. “You were a piss poor traction during the war, I doubt you’d even recognize a Jedi holding their lightsaber.” Harik chuckles.
“Maybe not, but I certainly know a Clone when I see one.”
“My brothers mowed through your droid army like they were bugs.” Hunter counters immediately.
“And we drew you in like Rats.” Harik says, “I doubt you were there, that day on Ryloth, if you were you wouldn’t be standing here today. Do you know how many of your brothers Nython and I laid waste to? And the Jedi kept sending them, it’s no wonder your lot betrayed them.”
“We did not betray our jetiise. You know that.” Hunter’s angry now, he’s seeing red. And his hand goes to the virosword on his hip.
“That’s not what the history texts say.” Harik says. Picking up his medallion to toy with it.
“Fucking cowards. You, Nython, the lot. Cowards are what you are.”
“So you take his wife, but I can't figure out why? You think that’ll get you some sick satisfaction?” Colo Harik is quick to attribute guilt.
“If I had come across whatever laandur Nython was marrying, do you want to know what we would have done?” Hunter has completely forgotten you can hear them, too wrapped in anger, too focused on revenge.
“You tell me sergeant.” Harik says, revealing he does in fact, know the leader of Clone Force 99.
“We would’ve gutted her, skinned alive and strung ‘er up right outside Nython’s pretty little house. You damn well would’ve known it was us.” Harik looks disgusted, and that's how Hunter knows he believes him.
“Now get off my ship before my men and I do that to you.” Hunter says lowly. Taking his medallion from the quivering coward. And watching as he bolts from the room.
His senses barely register the first of your fearful cries as he also leaves the room.
Tags: Tags: @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @peacefulwizardfox @rex-meshla @s1st37 @and-claudia @kamino-mermaid @thelambandthewolffe @starwarsmeninhelmets
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Day three: brotherhood
I wish we got to see more of their relationship, instead of being sidelined like the rest. In the little moments that were shown, we can see the banter between Crosshair and Wrecker. Always trying to one up the other with their scores and love for weapons.
Today's Main Prompt is Brotherhood. What makes the Bad Batch brothers? What makes them separate from the rest of the clones? How do they bond with one another?
Today's Alternate Prompt is Memory. Whether recent or distant, the Bad Batch probably has unseen memories that define who they are as a team and as individuals.
Even though we're halfway through the art week, you can still post art from the previous days! If you want to make sure we don't miss your piece, don't forget to tag us in your art!
I need somebody to write a Scrooge!Crosshair fic. Please, please, please, pretty pleeeeease 🙏 Just @ me when you're done 😊
Look how he hates everything, awww-
Day two: cadets
#BadBatchArtWeek , Also based off a image I saw on Pinterest. I had mentioned before in other post about tbb that in tcw series it’s said Kamino is the closest thing to a home. But in legends it’s not the same. So I feel, it be more in line with their characters if I drew a drawing like this. Original picture below 👇🏽
Tech loved to prank Crosshair as a cadet and deny his involvement, and Wrecker loves pranks
Change my mind
Echo, Crosshair, Hunter, Tech-done! Now onto Wrecker!
All I'm saying is I wouldn't mind dolling up in a slutty outfit and sitting on Crosshair's lap to sing Santa Baby to him.
Okay but hear me out. Crosshair would have a giant cat that only likes him. @moonstrider9904 what should I name the cat?
Also forgive my shitty edit, I did this at work so I had to make it fast!
Summary: his Mesh'la was a smart girl, Crosshair knew it. He will follow her traces through all over the Galaxy.
Pairings: Crosshair/fem!Mesh'la; Hunter/Cyare; Tech/Cyr'ika; implied Wrecker/Ad'ika
Tags: possessive behavior; stalking; yandere!Bad Batch; general possessiveness; talk about non-consensual tracking; controlling behavior; Crosshair can't tell the difference between love and ownership; Mesh'la use she/her pronouns but is without physical description, while Cyare, Cyr'ika, and Ad'ika are all without gender and description.
Note: I fell into the hole that is the yandere!Clones, and so here I am with this snippet. I am satisfied, for the moment, even if it isn't very long. But if this is something you will like to see more, I will be happy to write more about it!
"She used a block-scent: I can't track her anymore." - a growling sound came from his vod's throat, and Crosshair nearly screamed in frustration. Hunter was probably angry at himself for not helping further, but Crosshair knew his Mesh'la was a smart girl. It was why he had chosen her, after all.
She had lured them into a merry chase all around the planet for the last two days, keeping their attention on her, and so, hiding the movements of the others. She was such a clever, clever girl, and Crosshair would feel the pride coating his body if she wasn't working against him.
"We can only hope that Tech finds something on the damned trinkets of his." - the sniper mused, watching his surroundings like a hawk: it was a small port, one that he would have oversight if he wasn't so desperate. Why had she run away from him? Didn't she know about the dangers in the Galaxy? His Mesh'la was a strange one, but she was his, and this little rebellion didn't sit well into his guts.
"Wrecker hasn't commed, so they didn't return to the Marauder. The logical thing is that they had taken a ride from someone and flew off the planet, who knows where." - Hunter snapped, teeth bared in a snarl that would have made an animal proud. Crosshair hummed in agreement, repositioning his loyal riffle on his shoulder: if the little group has left the planet, there was no need for him to have his weapon out.
"The first thing I will do, when we find them, will be to lock her to our bed." - and never let her go away from his sight again. How foolish of him to believe all was going well. In hindsight, his Mesh'la had always talked back to him - even when they decided what food to cook for dinner. The fact that she hadn't done it before he was sending out on a mission with the Batch should have told him something was wrong.
"I think I will do the same." - his vod growled lowly, eyes dark. Crosshair could sympathize: this situation stirred something primal even in him - not counting how angry Tech and Wrecker had been when they discovered all their half were missing. Wrecker had howled at how his Ad'ika would feel alone without him protecting her; not that any of the Batch was happy with the morning surprise three days ago.
"Hunter, do you copy?" - and talking about the devil. Crosshair silently scooted over his vod, waiting for some good news: the day was becoming one of the worst in his brief life. They all needed some good updates.
"Tech, I'm here with Cross. What do you have?" - the grave tone told Tech immediately that they both have failed to locate Crosshair's girl - and so all their half were still missing. The technician hissed slowly, breathing hard through his nose: if Hunter and Crosshair had failed to return with their preys, then the day was going to be even worse for all of them.
"They have found all my microphones and hidden cameras: I would love to congratulate my Cyar'ika with her knowledge about my habits, but this is very annoying at the moment." - their vod informed, and Crosshair snarled wordlessly: great, now they couldn't even track them down at a distance.
"Do you have some backup?" - Hunter grimaced, absently touching the light necklace his Cyare had gifted to him some weeks ago: all seemed to be perfect, and they were happy and together. What had happened to make all of them run away? They were the Bad Batch: Hunter and his vode were the only ones that could protect them from the evils of the Galaxy.
"Negative. I was ideating a sub-epidermis tracker, but it was still only a theory project." - Tech rambled harshly, his worried tone covered by the deep anger and hopelessness they all felt.
"Then we have to return to Kamino: we can only hope that they will go there to recover their things from their apartment." - not that many things remained, not when the four spent all their free time with the Batch when possible. Crosshair exhaled slowly, trying to calm his mind: it wouldn't do anyone good if he lost his mind into a rambling rage. He would punish his Mesh'la for this little stunt once he would catch her. It was only a matter of time.
"Affirmative. I will tell Wrecker to start the engineers. Tech out." - the comm blinked once before turning off. Hunter started to walk back from where they came, unhappy face and rigid shoulders; the sniper followed in silence, worry twisting his guts. Sometimes he asked himself why he wanted his Mesh'la so bad, but then he remembered her smile, her eyes, the soft skin under his hands, the way she moaned under his touch.
So, it didn't matter how far they ran: the Batch would never let go of their hunt, Crosshair the last of his vode. He would catch his Mesh'la, he would lock her into their room, and he would hear her plead for his forgiveness. He would pursue her restlessly until she yielded to him or he died: there wasn't a middle ground.
most interesting... ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°
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