#fic: hunter's season

[anticidic]

“You expected me to be sentimental or something after that?” Dazai laughed breathlessly and cupped Chuuya’s cheeks, pulling him in closer and whispering, “No, Chuuya. Everything about me is wrong. I can’t be trusted, and you should never have believed me. I can still think clearly enough despite wanting to die from how awful this feels—too clear. I feel your hands and mouth on me, and I don’t want to. I don’t want to think. Only feel.” Like all things, this is another one of many Dazai accepts in life as they are. He's an alpha—there's no doubt about that. There's never been room for doubt. Then why does being on rut suppressants suddenly make him feel so sick? So, so violently sick? He wonders if this is how it feels to truly die, and in that cold, unloving embrace as he waits for the end, there's something warm. And gentle. There's a fire burning brightly in the night and it's from someone who treats him the same after all this time because they're two sides of the same coin. They both struggle with feeling human enough. And in that constant, nothing changes between them. Even as Dazai finds himself unable to accept this new reality.

20,967 words

Explicit (omegaverse)

Alpha Chuuya/Pretend!Alpha Dazai -> Alpha Chuuya/Omega Dazai

Gift for lovely @monkey-banana41 for bsd holiday exchange 💖

[softmangoes]

First, I just wanna say, I adore your writing. From your word choice to the way you convey every emotion, it is nothing short of stunning.

I binged all of your writing, and I was so thrilled to find your DoL fics!!!! If you’re feeling inspired, I’d love to see your take on the LIs reacting to the PC becoming a Fallen Angel, especially if the PC fell for them (like, letting them take the PC’s purity).

In game, it feels kind of tragic falling, especially when doing the quest for the spear, but on the other hand, the whole, who needs a God’s love when I have you is a special type of romantic that I really love.

I hope you have a wonderful holiday season if you celebrate! If not, I hope you’re having a wonderful winter in general!!!

hi hello!! thank you for all your kind words and i'm so glad you liked my dol fics!! 💛

the graciousness of your message has filled my well of inspiration, so here you go and i hope you also enjoy this 🥭

"why me?" pure!sydney says between breaths, between kisses that only make you both yearn for more. your skin is hot against his, while the wall of the library's private study room is cold against his back. he knows he shouldn't be doing this, that the temple would strip him of his status, and that your embrace marks the end of something he's been building all his life.

so why him? you are a holy thing, after all. untainted. pure.

and yet, as you grind against his length, the slickness of you irrestible now that his cage lies beside him in fragments, he finds no trace of regret within him - only reverence, only devotion. only the urge to take your breast in his mouth and to finally slip his length inside you, savoring the warm wetness that anoints him with the miracle of your consummation and the sound of your song.

"because it's me," he murmurs, his hips finding the pace that makes you shudder. after all, why can't a study room be a holy place? who says the bruises from his lips can't count as praise? when he feels you tighten around him, your feathers smoldering as your voice cracks in pleasure, he has his answer. "because," he gasps, reverence threatening to spill. "there's no one better to worship you."

"all saints die," corrupt!sydney murmurs, breath hot between your thighs. his fingers are digging into your hips. the marble altar is cold against your back. you both know you aren't supposed to be here, but there is a thrill in the forbidden.

he dips his tongue into your warmth, the sensation of his veneration smoldering even moreso than the feathers charring on your back. "what is this, but another apotheosis?" he muses, pulling his midnight hair into a ponytail. "another transformation?"

you feel thrilled at the comparison, knowing how you have both changed each other.

a dark force churns within you, tight and coiling. you recognize it as hunger, as the lust you have denied yourself so long in the face of virtue. but what use is virtue, when it can be easily cleaved by the warmth of a hot tongue? when the eyes that behold you in worship reflect the same golden light that used to grace your skin every day? as if sensing your hunger, sydney slips his fingers inside you, filling you. your hips sway into his touch, wanting more. wanting to burn together.

you shake in whitney's embrace, whimpering at the pain, the burning, the visions of the world cracking open and corruption spilling through like so many hungry tentacles reaching to engulf the light. and yet, you would do it all over again to feel his breath, his skin, his desire for you all for the first time.

"hey," he says, scooping cold water onto your tender back. it does little against the fire you feel in every feather, the taint eating away at each filament. "stay with me." there's a tinge of panic in his insistence. you aren't quite sure whether it's real or a hallucination. although he is your former tormentor, this is a kind of pain he is unfamiliar with, yet committed by his hand all the same.

your eyes dull. whitney adjusts his weight, water sloshing in the bath. he jostles you, willing you to stay conscious. whatever the fuck is going on with you, you can't leave him. you can't go before he knows how to help you.

before the darkness takes you, the last thing you hear is him telling you he is sorry.

there are tears in kylar's eyes. "it hurts?" he says, daring to touch your half-singed feathers. you nod, straining to unfurl them to reveal the slow fire eating away at the soft ivory. your halo is cracked, bleeding inky corruption that sizzles upon contact with the air. "it's because we...." his voice shakes, the guilt lancing through the pleasure of your skin just moments ago. "we..."

how dare his selfishness cause your agony. if only he could unmake a moment, exercise even a minute of restraint. perhaps then, you wouldn't be in this pain. his fingernails dig into his palm, teeth sinking into his lips as tears stream down his face freely.

but your mouth covers his, your soft tongue lapping at the blood beading on his lips. your kiss, so gentle, feels nothing like lament. only the delicate grace of forgiveness.

"you're beautiful," eden says, mouth hot against the hollow of your neck. when he first saw you, wings unfurled in the light of the clearing, he thought that you were some kind of strange bird. right as he leveled his shotgun to take aim, he remembered you turning to face him, a look of surprise gracing your features as you beheld the man who would have been your end.

it was a while before he first touched you. your skin burned. the air in the cabin would ripple from your heat. even the bars of the cage threatened to warp. in the cold of the winter, your rage radiated at your confinement, a prized bird trapped in crude metal.

the hunter knew that he was not worth your beauty. your very presence made the shadows of his past all the more darker. you were an angel, a being of pure light, and all he wanted to do was take your warmth for his.

then one day, like a miracle, you came for him. he had collapsed into the cabin, his body stiffened by the cold. hair cracking with ice. he had fallen into the lake while fishing, the ice sheet far thinner than what he originally estimated. he looked at you, glowing in the dark of the cabin, teeth chattering as he unlocked the cage with his hand outstretched.

"go," he rasped as the door swayed open. "it won't be long until -"

warmth spread across his body the moment your mouth pressed against his. you tasted like honey, like sunlight, like every summer he never thought he would live to see. to his surprise, he found you breathless, lips at his neck, telling him to take you.

"why?" he asks, voice hoarse. his fingers run through your hair. because he fell, you tell him, and it was only right that you would as well.

"something's burning," robin says, fear tinging his desire. "is it you? we can stop -"

you silence him with a kiss, tongue tasting his lust for you. your feathers are charring, your halo cracking. before this, you had both talked about the consequences of what would happen. once you were intertwined, there would be no going back. the both of you would be burned into each other's lives forever.

besides, this moment feels less like falling and more like flying: robin's warm eyes on you, his soft mouth parted in pleasure, each sway of his hips bringing you both closer to sweet oblivion. all you can do is card your fingers through his hair as he whimpers against you, sending you both soaring into the heights of a new heaven.

"the moon waxes and wanes," the wraith says, tentacles tracing the darkness of your once brilliant wings. one of them prods at the shards of your halo, corruption leaking from its fragments. you wince, the pain sharp despite the gentleness of the abomination's touch. "and even when it bleeds, it is beautiful."

tendrils, thick and strong, knead along your shoulder blades right where your wings protract from your back. this earns a sigh of relief from you - one that he drinks eagerly with his cold mouth.

"flight must make you ache," he says, his voice nothing less than a sonorous purr. "i may be able to assist."

with his lower pair of hands, the wraith lifts you against the walls of the ruin. he slips inside you with ease, your fingers grasping the silver threads of his hair as you take him. his countless tendrils suckle and writhe against your skin, drawing sounds that echo into the darkness of the ruin. the wraith is a force, a wave of pleasure that does nothing else but pull you further and further into its depths.

after all, you chose to sacrifice the love of a god for the heart of a monster. what else can he do, except devour you?

[winniethewife]

This isn't goodbye, this is simply, "see you later" (Hunter x F!reader)

Warnings: Season 3 spoilers, Angst with a happy ending, time skips, pregnant!reader,

Words: 1838

“I don’t want to go.” Hunter whispered in her ear as he held her close, the hallway to the med-bay thankfully empty as he embraced her gently, wanting to savor the moments he has before he runs off on another series of missions

“I know, but we both have a job to do.” She insisted running her fingers through his hair, trying to comfort him, trying to be stronger for the both of them.

The never had enough time, that was the main problem. How much time could he reasonably linger in the med-bay without anyone asking questions. Hunter spent as much time as he could near her. There was a war going on, they were both needed. That was enough to help her wait, to keep her patience. Hunter pulls her in closer, his lips a whisper away from hers.

“I don’t want to say goodbye, I’m not ready.” His low voice tinged with sadness. She looks into his eyes and softly sighs.

“Then don’t…Don’t say goodbye.” She feels a tear run down her cheek. She presses her lips against his for a brief moment. “This doesn’t have to be goodbye, it’s just...See you later.” Her words against his lips are bitter sweet, the idea was sweet but the reality of the situation was a shadow over the moment. The fact was there was no guarantee that they would ever see each other again.  Hunter knows this, she knows this, but in the moment they choose to ignore it. He closes the distance one last time to leave a lingering kiss, taking in the moment in as much detail as he could. The way she felt, the way she smelled, the way she tasted, the sound of her breathing. Taking in every bit of her, to keep with him as long as he needed to be apart from her. After an amount of time that felt infinitesimal, he pulled away from the kiss and gave her a sad smile.

“See you later.”

“See you later.”

~

After the war was over and Hunter was on the run with the rest of the batch. He frequently thought back to the days he would regularly head to the medbay on Kamino in spent the days and nights with her in his arms. He often wondered if he should have actually told her goodbye the last time he saw her. That was what was on his mind as they left what was left of Tipoca city on kamnino. He thought about what Tech had told him AZI had said. That all the essential medical personal had been sent elsewhere, and those that had resisted were eliminated. She wasn’t one to follow orders, she wouldn’t have just gone with the empire, no questions asked. He couldn’t sleep, every time he closed his eyes he could picture her lifeless body lying in the perfectly white hallways of the cloning facilities. It was too much to bear. He had lost too much in the last few days he couldn’t imagine losing her too.

“Hunter?” The quiet voice of Omega reaches his ears and he turns to look at her. She looked worried, He couldn’t blame her, she had been through so much in the last day.

“Omega…Can’t sleep either huh?” He asks attempting to sound as supportive as he can, his own troubles pushed from his mind. Omega looks at him and shakes her head. “C’mere then…” He helps the smaller clone into his lap and they sit together. Hunter pets her head softly and keeps his breathing steady in an attempt to keep them both calm. He looks down at the young clone in his arms. He has to stay strong for her. Despite every urge to break down, he has to be strong.

~

As the Bad Batch walked into Cid’s parlor after another successful job done,  Hunter swore he sensed something familiar, a comforting scent, a melodic voice, his heart stopped when he saw her standing at the bar, chatting with one of the other patrons kindly. He froze for a second, this couldn’t be really happening. He feels her name leave his lips without a thought and as she turns to look at him he knows its really her, she’s here in front of him. There’s nothing that can keep him from her now. He quickly makes his way across the mostly empty room to take her in his arms, she’s there, she’s real. He looks into her eyes, speechless. She looks back at him, with love and affection in her eyes.

“Hello again.” She says softly reaching to touch his face, tracing the lines of his tattoo on his face, the corners of her mouth turned up in a slight smile. She looked exactly like he remembered, not a scratch on her, not a hair out of place.

“How- How did you know? How did you find us?” He had a thousand questions to ask but he wanted to start there.

“Rex told me where to find you. I ran into him while trying to get me and a few others off of Kamino and somewhere safe. He was very helpful.” She explained as Hunter pulled her in even closer, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck, taking in her scent, never wanting to escape it, never wanting to leave it again, He was home again in her arms. She smiled softly and begin to run her fingers through his hair.  “It’s Okay Hunter…I’m here.”

“You’re here….you’re really here” He doesn’t care that the rest of the batch is watching this interaction, he doesn’t even care if the rest of the bar is watching, he just cares that she’s safe, and with him.

~

Settling in on Pabu was like a dream come true, as she tried her best to make their new home as comfy as possible. Home. That was new. She smiled at the idea, a home for her, the batch, Omega. She was busy cleaning up the kitchen when she felt a familiar pair of arms around her waist. She sighs, holding back tears, letting Hunter hold her while she works. He sighs. He knew they had to go investigate, find out what Crosshair’s message means. She knew that he had to leave, and she had to stay. Hunters hand grazes over the very beginnings of a bump on her lower abdomen, where their child grew inside her. He felt that familiar tightness in his chest. He rests his head on her shoulder.

“This isn’t goodbye.” He says softly, his low voice tinted with the recognizable sadness.

“No, this is not goodbye. Its…see you later.” She replies, tears starting down her face. Hunter turns her in his arms, using his thumb to gently wipe away her tears.

“We’ll be back before you know it….I promise.” He mutters softly trying to comfort her. She laughs quietly, shaking her head.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” She looks at him as a few more tears slid down her face. Hunter chuckled and leaned in to kiss her gently, holding her face in one hand and the other arm around her waist pulling her in close, taking in the feeling of her skin, her lips, her body, one more time. She pulls away and looks up at him.

“I love you Hunter.”

“I love you too Cyar’ika.” He meets her gaze and hope she knows how much she means to him. How much he wanted to keep the promise. His comm-link activates with a shrill noise shattering the silence.

“Hunter, its time.” Techs voice, interrupts the moment. Hunter sighs and turns to speak into the comm.

“Copy, I’m on the way.” He turns to her with a sorrowful sorrow on his face. “See you later.”

“See you later.”

~

The next months would be the hardest that they had ever dealt with. The loss of Tech, the capture of Omega, it would weigh on them heavily, trying every angle to try to find her. while Hunter and Wrecker were crossing the galaxy time and time again trying to find Omega, She was constantly at the makeshift communication center she had gotten together to try to reach out to anyone who might know anything. She was half asleep, resting her head on her palm as she rests her eyes, waiting for a message from someone…anyone. She jolts awake as she hears the sound of a ship coming in to land, a familiar sound, The Marauder. She stands up as quickly as she could. She hurried to the landing platform, thankful she wasn’t far from it. As she arrived she was quickly greeted by an enthusiastic Omega who rant to her, wrapping her arms as far around as she could with the growing belly in the way.

“Omega! I’m so glad to see you!” She exclaims as she manages to get down on one knee to let the smaller girl fully embrace her. As Omega held on to her, she looked up to see Wrecker and Hunter disembarking the ship, and shortly behind them…Crosshair. Her heart leapt at the sight. They were all together again. After Omega let go she carefully got to her feet Hunter quickly closing the distance to help her.

“Be careful, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” He says helping her to her feet, and into his arms

“Hunter I’m pregnant, not incapable.” She jokes, He shakes his head as he laughs. they press their foreheads together, Hunter felt like he could breath, for now, everyone he cares about was safe, everything he needed was here, and for now that was enough.

~

She waited patently for Hunter to return from seeing Omega off. Their son now a teenager asleep in his bed in the other room, Wreckers snores coming in from the adjacent hut, Crosshair had just bid her goodnight and went home. She sighed, reading over the last message she had gotten from Echo, who was off helping the rebellion in his own way, the door creaks open and she looks up to see her husband. Tired from the walk from the cove. She sets the data pad aside and smiles at him.

“Did she do alright? She have everything she needed?” She asked him as he comes to sit by her side, letting out a soft groan as he moved.

“Yes, just like we taught her.” He said proudly. “I just wish she didn’t have to go.” She takes his hand in hers.

“I know…She’s so stubborn. I wonder where she got that from.” She looks him over. He lets out a chuckle.

“Yes, well, what else could we expect?” He sighs “I’m just not very good at saying goodbye.”

“Ah ah, it’s not goodbye…” She looks at him with a knowing smile and a glint of mischief in her eye, He shakes his head, putting his arm around her and pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

“I know, I know. It’s just simply see you later.”                                  

~

Masterlist

[slaanesh12]

"Wednesday didn't let anyone touch her. She's so cold."

Also Wednesday with Tyler from episode 1:

[kybercrystals94]

Banner by @blackseafoam | Event: @galactic-gift-gathering

This story was written for @nerdyduckrants and their prompt “Snow”…they wanted something with the Bad Batch and full of family fluff 🖤 Thank you for the fun prompt, and for being an amazing part of this fandom ☺️

Snow Day

Read here on Ao3!

Rated: G | Words: 1365

“Crosshair’s on my team!” Omega announces, latching herself to Crosshair’s arm as if one of their brothers might try to bodily snatch him away. 

Crosshair groans, and halfheartedly tries to shake her off, but Omega holds fast, grinning wildly from under her knitted hat. Her face is already turning pink from the cold because she refused to wear the matching scarf Hunter had tried to wrap around her. 

“Maybe I don’t want to be on your team,” Crosshair grumbles.

Omega snorts. “Liar.”

He is a liar, but he’ll never ever admit it out loud. Just like he’ll never admit that the fact that she chose him over either Wrecker or Hunter gives him a sickeningly, sticky warm feeling under his rib cage where his heart is. 

A year ago, Crosshair thought if he never saw snow again it would be too soon. And yet somehow, willingly, he is standing in the stuff halfway up to his knees, all because Omega has never had a proper “snow day.” Where Hunter managed to find all this cold weather gear on short notice is beyond him, but Omega’s weeklong dream of having a snowball fight with her brothers is coming to fruition.  

“I guess teams are decided then,” Hunter says with a grin, and nearly faceplants in the snow when Wrecker sidles up to him and slaps him on the back.

“Me and you, Hunt! We’ll show ‘em how it's done!” the giant crows.

Omega swings from Crosshair’s still captive arm. “No! We’ll show you, won’t we, Crosshair?”

“They won’t know what hit them,” Crosshair agrees, smirking. 

“Hey, no putting ice in your snowballs,” Hunter says sternly. 

Wrecker adds, “Or rocks.” 

“Why would someone do that?” Omega asks, aghast. 

“Because two someones figured out the accuracy of a snowball was increased with added weight,” Hunter says.

Wrecker coughs, “Crosshair. Tech.”

Omega laughs.

“Those someones were right,” Crosshair returns, “But three other someones were being tubies about it, even though they were literally wearing armor and it didn’t hurt them at all.”

“It was the principle!” Wrecker declares. 

“Well, we’re not wearing armor now,” Hunter says. 

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’ll teach Omega how to make boring, regular snowballs. Happy?” 

Hunter gives his youngest brother a look and changes the subject. “Alright, we have twenty minutes to prepare for the fight.” 

“Starting now!” Wrecker cries and dashes away. 

With an indignant noise of protest, Hunter takes off after his teammate, leaving Crosshair and Omega on their own. 

Omega looks up at Crosshair. “What do we do first?” 

“First,” Crosshair says, finally extracting his arm from Omega’s grip, “we need to create a base. Where we’ll keep all our ammunition.” 

“You mean our snowballs?” 

“Ammunition,” Crosshair reiterates, enunciating each syllable. “This is a battle. A battle we’re going to win.” 

Omega grins. “Okay. A place to keep our ammunition. Got it.” 

Crosshair surveys their surroundings, eyes moving across the blinding white blanket of snow. The landscape is a meadow with rolling hills, framed on the outskirts by evergreen trees. They can use this to their advantage if they play their cards right, putting their fortress at the crest of a hill so that they can have the high ground advantage when Hunter and Wrecker try to advance. While Hunter and Wrecker will use the same tactic, building their own base at the top of a hill, Wrecker will never be patient enough to wait for Crosshair and Omega to come to them.

Which will be his and Hunter’s ultimate downfall. 

“I’ll make the walls of our base,” Crosshair decides, starting to move in the direction of the highest hill. “You’ll focus on ammunition.” 

“Okay!” Omega chirps, following in the path Crosshair is clearing through the snow. 

When they make it to their destination, Crosshair points at the ground. “Use this snow to make the snowballs. I’m going to build four walls around you.” 

“But won’t we need to get out?” Omega asks. 

Crosshair smiles. “Not if I know our brothers.” 

Omega gasps when the realization hits. “They’ll come to us!” 

“Exactly.” Crosshair kneels down in the snow, scooping up a handful in his flesh hand and uses his prosthetic, sheathed in a glove, to begin forming a ball, demonstrating the technique to Omega. “I trust you can make a few hundred of these in fifteen minutes?” 

“A few hundred?” Omega gasps. 

“A thousand, that’d be better.” 

“That’s impossible!” 

“With that attitude it is,” Crosshair tells her. “Now stop whining and get to work!” 

Omega groans and crouches down to scoop up a handful of snow. Crosshair looks at the weapon in his head then tosses the snowball at her lightly, the soft, white orb bursting on the back of her head. 

“Hey!” Omega cries, twisting to glare up at him. 

“Target practice,” Crosshair says, shrugging

Omega throws the half formed ball in her hands at him, hitting his stomach with a mist of snow. 

Crosshair gasps, dusting himself off. “You’re wasting our ammo!” 

“You started it!” 

“I never said I was a good example, did I?” 

He is rewarded with an eye roll and a smile as Omega turns back to her task, scooping up handfuls of snow and balling them up. Crosshair begins forming the walls of their fortress, gathering up armfulls of snow from the sides of the hill and bringing them to the top, making piles that he then begins to pack down. 

“It feels like it’s been longer than twenty minutes,” Omega says, scraping up another handful of snow from her nearly depleted supply from within the fortress. 

Crosshair is finishing the fourth wall. “Oh, it has.” 

“Then where are they?” Omega asks, standing to look over the wall. 

“Waiting for us to come to them,” Crosshair says. 

“And we’re waiting for them to come to us?” 

“Exactly. But we’ve got something that they have in short supply.” Crosshair climbs over the wall and sits down next to her. “Patience.”

Omega laughs, then looks at her piles of snowballs. “Did I make enough?” 

“No, but it’ll have to do.” 

The girl sticks her tongue out at him. 

“Real mature,” Crosshair drawls. 

It is at that moment that a giant snowball sails overhead, obviously a product of Wrecker’s massive mitts. 

Crosshair grabs a snowball in each hand, and Omega does the same.

“Ready?” Crosshair asks. 

Omega nods, eyes bright and glinting with mischief. “Ready.” 

And the battle begins. 

***

“I feel cold all the way to my bones,” Omega says, her hands curled around a steaming mug of hot chocolate. 

Hunter chuckles. “Yeah, that’s what happens when you play in the snow for too long.” 

Crosshair ignores the dark memories trying to creep up, focusing his attention on the fact that Hunter thought to bring something warm and sweet to drink on the flight back to Pabu. During the war, it was usually watered down instant caf that greeted them when they returned to the Marauder, rationed out because they didn’t know when they’d be able to get more. 

“I like this stuff,” Wrecker announces, then tries to shake out the last drops of his hot chocolate into his mouth from his mug. 

Crosshair likes it too; however, maybe it's the residue of that sticky warm feeling in his chest, but he passes  over his mug to Wrecker to finish off. His brother smiles at him, broad and toothy, and happily accepts the silent gift. Crosshair’s mouth twitches up in a responding half smile. 

“That was so fun,” Omega sighs. “Can we do it again someday?” 

“Sure, kid,” Hunter says, reaching over to tousle Omega’s smushed up hair that is flat against her head from the hat she’d been wearing. 

“But we’re gonna switch up teams next time,” Wrecker grumbles.  

“No!” Omega cries, “Crosshair and I made the perfect team! That’s why we won!”

“But I’ve never gotten to be on Crosshair’s team,” Wrecker whines. “And my team was so lame.”

Hunter frowns. “I’m right here, Wreck.”

“I know,” Wrecker says. 

Crosshair smirks. “I’ll decide whose team I’m on.”

Omega wiggles her eyebrows at him and mouths, Mine, right?

Crosshair shrugs dismissively, even though the answer is yes. 

For that kid, the answer will always be yes. 

END

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[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Hunter's Prayer

A Vamp!Rhys x Vampire Hunter!Reader AU

(This is a separate universe from my Dancing with the Devil Vamp!Rhys and just a little blurb I made for my Spooky Season AU list)

------------------------

“Nece ne neceris”

The words are carved above the altar, painted in glittering gold. The congregation repeats them in a drowning, lifeless chant that echoes off the church’s ancient walls. 

“Kill lest you be killed.”

Death is your family’s sacrement. Blood their offering. The wooden stake pressed into your shaking hands the tools for Holy Judgement this side of Eternity. They’ve inked the words into your flesh, hammered them into your soul. This is your purpose; this is your Divine Right.

“Nece ne neceris,” you repeat, loud enough to be heard over the chanting. For milenia the night has belonged to the Dead, to the damned and the wicked alike, but tonight, tonight it belongs to you. Your footsteps echo against the church’s worn floors, the doors creak open in a ghostly howl as you step out into the moonlight. 

You are not prey. 

You are not afraid.

The night belongs to the hunters. And you will be the best of them.

The congregation follows you only to the doorway, their sacred cowls obscuring their faces, though you feel their eyes all the same as you step out into the gravel walkway that leads to your crumbling parish. The empire of hunters died a long time ago. Time can only hold onto the mortal for a heartbeat before it loses its grip. Hunters are a dying breed, to be crowned one is to meet Death with open arms. Death who took your father, your brothers; Death who claimed your city and your home. This little steeple and the stake in your hands is all you have left. You’ll be damned if you don’t fight to keep it. 

“Nece ne neceris,” you chant as their voices grow dim. “I will not die today.”

The path from the church leads into the woods, the dense, overgrown trees soon shrouding out the moonlight. From far off the hooting of an owl tells you that nothing hunts to the north. Your prey is downwind tonight, which means they already have your scent. The church often claimed hunters smelled different than normal humans, though you had never decided if you believed it. Although, you suppose, there is only one way to find out…

You walk deeper, until all light disappears within the forest canopy overhead. Then you take the sharpened tip of the stake and slide it across your palm. Crimson blooms from the shallow wound, pebbling off your skin into the rocky earth beneath you. You close your fist and squeeze, wincing slightly against the burn, as you draw more out. 

“Come on out,” you whisper to the darkness. 

It starts as a gust of wind, a rustling of leaves on branches, though there is no howl of the wind. The hair on the back of your neck rises as you spin to face it, stake raised and ready.

“Nece ne neceris,” you remind yourself as you crouch, ready to fight. There is nothing for you to see in the darkness, but you know that it is there. Eyes watch your every breath with the stillness of a lion tracking a wounded deer. 

“What a brave little hunter,” a voice purrs in your head, the sound decidedly male. 

The stake slips from shaking hands, clattering into the blood you’re still dripping into the earth. “What are you?”

“They didn’t warn you?” The voice purrs and there’s another gust of wind at your back, making you spin to face it, ready to meet the gaping maw of your enemy, but there is nothing there.

“I can do many things,” It says with a voice made for the gentle darkness of a bedroom. You can practically feel its hot breath on your neck. “I can be your greatest desire, your sweetest sin.”

To pick up your weapon, you have to bend down, take your eyes off the trees and pray you’re fast enough to grasp it before the thing lunges for your throat. Your training has been extensive, but you are no match for something of this speed, it’ll have your heart in its hands before you can blink.

“Or I can be your worst nightmare. What will it be, little hunter?”

Your heart hammers like the church bells in your ears. “Come here and find out!”

There’s not even time to blink, time to scream before an icy hand grabs you by the throat and slams you into the nearest tree. You reach out to claw at it, but your nails break against skin that might as well be solid adamant. Your lungs ache, constricting so tight dark spots start to swirl across your vision.

“Disappointing,” it purrs at you. Vampire eyes are supposed to be yellow. The church’s paintings depict them with dark veins twining around their gleaming eyes like streaks of lightning. Those marks are there, but these eyes are so blue they’re nearly violet. 

You lash out with a booted foot, trying desperately to free yourself from the crushing grip on your windpipe, but even though the blow makes contact, the creature doesn’t flinch. He grins in fact, elongated canines gleaming past his full lips. 

“I was hoping to have some fun,” he pouts.

The spots swirling across your vision grow bigger with each passing second his vice-like grip remains clamped down around your throat. No amount of kicking or punching will free you from your suffering.

“Your little parish sent you to die, you know that, don’t you?” He says.

You can only gasp for air, choking out every fleeing breath. 

“Oh, right,” he releases you as quickly as he’d grabbed you and your body slides limply into the earth, air rushing into your lungs as you cough and sputter. “I forget how fragile you humans are.”

“Fuck you!” You snarl at him in between breaths.

He chuckles at your disdain. “You have spirit at least.”

Your stake is too far away, lying there in the mud, taunting you with your failure. “Just kill me and get it over with!” 

He crouches, eyes gleaming in his tan face. For an Undead monster, he’s ridiculously handsome, the sharp angles of him clean enough to have been sculpted from marble. Dark hair falls in soft ways across his temples. He looks nothing like the horrific monsters you’ve been told about. 

“Oh I don’t want to kill you, Little Hunter,” he purrs. “I have plans for you.”

Time slows as you watch him rip his fangs through his own palm, and then speeds up all too quickly as he leans forward and presses his hand against your lips. His other hand cradles the back of your head, holding you in place as he forces the copper tinted liquid down your throat. His strength is unparalleled, there was no way you were ever beating him with that pathetic little stake. 

Only when he’s satisfied that you’ve taken enough down does he remove his hand. You spit it back out at him as best you can, but there is no denying that there was some that made it down the back of your throat. He only chuckles his amusement as his hands move to grip your head, and then twist, and the world goes black in an instant.

It might be hours later. Days. You awaken to find yourself lying on your back, nothing but glittering starlight above you. Your whole body aches, bones feeling like they’re trying to stretch right out of your skin. The slight flutter of the breeze against you feels like a thousand nails scratching across your skin. And your throat! It’s never been so dry!

You sit up slowly, groaning. Your neck hurts the worst, then your jaw, as if your teeth are suddenly too large in your mouth. When you raise a finger to poke at your tender gums, the sharp tips of your canines break open your skin.

“Finally! I was starting to think you were actually dead.”

You’re on your feet in an instant, hands twitching at your sides. That thing leans against a tree, arms crossed over his broad chest, violet eyes watching you intently. “What the fuck did you do to me?!”

He smirks as he pushes off the tree and stalks over to you, every move languid and powerful, like a large cat. “I saved you.” He purrs.

“You…” you run your hand over your teeth again, once again tearing skin over the two sets of fangs sitting in your mouth. This cannot be happening to you! “You ruined me! You made me like you!”

He shakes his head as he crowds into your space, face inches from yours. “Nece ne neceris.”

You are dead, there is no blood in your body to run cold, yet your limbs stiffen anyway. 

“I was you, Little One,” he says, his voice a husky whisper. “They sent me out to die, just as they have you.”

“No!” You snarl, body moving with inhumane speed to swing at his head.

He catches you by the wrist and twists so that you're pinned with your back to his chest. He runs his lips over the shell over your ear. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you what you need to do to make them pay.”

-----

Tag List:

@barb00235

[the-voldsoy]

it would be SO fun if at the next season finale when whichever characters are still alive are fighting the next Big Bad, Sam pops back through the portal at Hilltop Road (after months of silence and being assumed dead) and casually deals with it. And then the next season is just about whatever Sam and the Archivist were up to in the other dimension.

[skellymom]

"LAST ISLAND WOLF"

BAD BATCH ALTERNATE ENDING!

Creepy Alternate Ending to the wonderful story written by @kybercrystals94 ! And upon request for some cryptozoology storytelling suggested by reader @fionas-frenzy !!!

To read the original story, click on the icon below. I included an excerpt of it to bridge the alternate ending. Kyber's part is italicized and my collab is in orange lettering. No worries readers, I did get the ok from Kyber ahead of time to do this!

ENJOY!!! (Happy Friendsgiving, y'all!)

Word Count: 778

Warning: Wolf bites human, horror trope.

He wishes that such security extended to himself as well.  

Crosshair listens to their breathing even out, listens to the fire crackle and snap hungrily, listens to the wind in the treetops. He watches shadows stretch in the moonlight and dance in the firelight. It is peaceful. It is safe. He even has his firepuncher nearby, just in case this is all an illusion. But it’s not, this is their new reality. Safe. Content. Home. His eyes feel heavy, and he wants to sleep. But he can’t seem to allow it. 

“Cross?” Hunter’s voice is soft, groggy. “You still awake?”  

He almost doesn’t answer, pretends; however, Hunter is impossible to fool.  

Kriffing enhancement.  

“Yeah,” he says, rolling to his back.  

“Why?”  

“Dunno.”  

Hunter hums. “I think you do.”  

“I’m not tired,” Crosshair lies.  

Hunter sits up, props his forearms on his knees. Crosshair watches the movement out his peripheral, keeps his gaze skyward. Hunter mutters, “It feels strange not having someone on watch, doesn’t it?” 

Crosshair hides his surprise behind a retort, throwing Hunter’s own joke back at him. “Why? Scared the island wolf might get you while you sleep?” 

Hunter’s voice curves around a grin...” No...” 

Crosshair turns to face his brother. 

Hunter’s face is shrouded in dark shadows.  His features undiscernible in the gloom... 

He lifts his nose to the air and inhales deeply.  The movement causes Hunter’s retinas to glimmer and flash in the firelight. 

“I can SMELL your fear” 

Crosshair’s blood runs cold.   

Before he can speak, Hunter is on him. 

Crosshair’s ONLY saving move is blocking Hunter with his rifle.  His brother...this THING...strains over Firepuncher growling gutturally, teeth gnashing and snapping at Cross.   

He’s SO MUCH stronger than I remember! 

Hunter’s hands grip Crosshairs and dig into them with his...it’s claws.  Crosshair instinctively releases his grip on the rifle.  

He CRIES out in pain, and the futility of his struggle. 

It’s ripped from his grasp.  He watches Firepuncher sail away and hit the ground... 

...near Wrecker and Omega... 

Their eyes glow in the firelight as they passively watch Crosshair struggle... 

It is the LAST thing Crosshair sees before Hunter sinks his teeth into his brother’s throat... 

... 

... 

... 

Crosshair awakes SCREAMING! 

Hunter is above him...both hands holding back his own as Crosshair blocks his brother with Firepuncher. 

“CROSSHAIR!  SNAP OUT OF IT!!!”  Hunter shouts in Cross’ face. 

Hunter can sense the abject TERROR in Crosshair.  His brother’s eyes WILD in the firelight. 

Crosshair glances over Hunter’s shoulder to see Wrecker and Omega stare at them in utter shock and concern. 

It slowly dawns on Cross that he had one hell of a nightmare.  He relaxes and lowers the rifle, exhaling, tension releasing from his body. 

Hunter let’s go and stands up. 

Crosshair sit’s up, mopping sweat from his brow... 

A bloodcurdling howl rises from the shadows around them. 

Crosshair IMMEDIATELY snaps to sniper position, scanning the perimeter through his scope.  Ready to blast WHATEVER emerges from the darkness... 

Something in the underbrush slowly crunches toward them... 

Cross’ finger hovers over the trigger... 

Hunter steps forward.  He QUICKLY yanks the rifle up and skyward. 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”  Crosshair hisses. 

The crunching become louder and closer... 

... 

... 

... 

Tech emerges from the darkness RIGHT in front of them. 

“Well, that prank could have ended horribly.”  He sasses “Wrecker, I TOLD YOU this wouldn’t work.  Besides, I ONLY have Loth Wolf recordings.  The Island Wolf SHOULD sound MUCH MORE ominous and otherworldly.” 

“Aww, how should I know he’d get TRIGGERED” Wrecker scratched his head.  “There are NO Imperials in that story!” 

“Horrible choice of wording, Wrecker.  Besides, Crosshair is exhibiting a CLASSIC PTSD response.  I warned you...”  Tech plops down next to the fire, tapping away at his datapad. 

“WAIT..!”  Crosshair panics, staring at Tech.  “YOU SHOULD BE DEAD!!!” 

Hunter pats Crosshair’s shoulder.  “You had a nightmare.”  He soothes his brother and carefully takes Firepuncher away from Cross. 

“...but...”  Cross sputters...staring at everyone. 

They stare back at him...as though he had gone insane. 

Hunter steers Crosshair to sit next the campfire, setting the rifle aside.  Wrecker offers Cross a canteen of water while Omega snuggles up next to him, attempting to hug away the night terrors. 

Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega resume their campfire small talk. 

Crosshair takes a long drink, muttering to himself...” You were supposed to have died...” 

He exhales and splashes some water on his face.  Then glances across the crackling fire to Tech. 

Tech, sensing Crosshair’s stare, slowly raises his head from the datapad... 

His goggle lenses flare and flicker... 

...Tech smiles nefariously at Crosshair unbeknownst to his other siblings... 

...a SHARP smile at that.... 

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[miss-musings]

The Timeline of All My "Star Wars: The Bad Batch" Fics

Because all my TBB fics are set in the same continuity, I wanted to create a timeline of when they all take place relative to the show and each other.

This is mostly for my own reference, but I figured I'd post it here in case anyone was interested in checking them out. (Or if you have already, it might be useful to see the timeline laid out, because some fics/chapters were written out of order chronologically.)

BEFORE THE SHOW

Hunter & Crosshair: "Where There is Light, There is Always Hope" | Set during The Clone Wars, before Echo joins TBB

DURING THE SHOW

On Tantiss After "Plan 99" | Set between the events of 2.16 "Plan 99" and 3.01 "Confined"

Between "A Different Approach" and "The Return" | Set between the events of 3.04 "A Different Approach" and 3.05 "The Return"

Just Beyond "Point of No Return" | Set between the events of 3.11 "Point of No Return" and 3.12 "Juggernaut"

AFTER THE SERIES FINALE

Three Weeks After the Finale... | Set 3 weeks after the TBB series finale

Crosshair & Omega: Always on the Same Team - Chapters 2 & 3: "Crosshair's Last Shot Against Omega" | Set about 2 months after the TBB series finale

Crosshair & Omega: Always on the Same Team - Chapter 1 | Set 2-3 months after the TBB series finale

Crosshair & Omega: Always on the Same Team - Chapters 4 & 5: "The Founders' Day Football Game" | Set a week after Chapter 1, so about 2-3 months after the TBB series finale

The Bad Batch Chooses a Family Name - Chapters 1-4 | Set about 4 months after the TBB series finale

Crosshair vs. Cad Bane: The Sharpshooter Showdown | Set about 5 months after the TBB series finale

Celebrating Life Day on Pabu - Chapter 1 | Set about two weeks after the events of "The Sharpshooter Showdown," so about 5-6 months after the TBB series finale

Celebrating Life Day on Pabu - Chapter 2 | Takes place over the course of several weeks after Chapter 1, with last section taking place concurrently with "Crosshair Accepts a (Helping) Hand"

Crosshair Accepts a (Helping) Hand | Set about six weeks after "The Sharpshooter Showdown," so about 7 months after the TBB series finale (NOTE: THIS FIC IS ONGOING)

Celebrating Life Day on Pabu - Chapters 3-7 | Set about 8 months after the TBB series finale

DURING THE EPILOGUE TIMEFRAME

Crosshair & Omega: Always on the Same Team - Chapter 6 | Set shortly before the events of the TBB epilogue

The Bad Batch Chooses a Family Name - Chapter 5 | Set shortly after the events of the TBB epilogue

TBA

This is subject to updates whenever I post a new fic.

[not-so-mundane-after-all]

Fandom: Star Wars: The Bad Batch

Title: Whatever We Want To Be

Pairings/Relationships: Hunter & Omega

Summary:

Omega asks Hunter a very important question — probably the most important one of her life.

Hello, loves! I'm coming to you with another little batch of fluff mixed with angst. I've been working on it for the past couple of weeks and I am so excited to finally share it! Grab some tissues and maybe check your sugar levels once you're done!

Enjoy!

[kenneth-black]

“So I hear that you are late on paying rent and might need some extra cash…”

[fanfoolishness]

Dawn, After

Spoilers for 3x11, “Point of No Return.”

-

Hunter follows Batcher up the steps, ribs aching with every breath, his chest heavy. There’s no longer anything like hope within him; the gunships departing, the screams of the townspeople fading into weary grief, they’ve told him all he needs to know about the Empire and what it came for.

His boots drag against the stone, stumbling over uneven steps. His gloved hand scrapes against the side of the stairwell, trying to keep him steady. Batcher comes back to check on him. She whines softly, nudging his hand.

“It’s all right, girl,” he lies. His voice cracks.

He can tell she doesn’t believe him, but she turns and heads back up the stairs anyway. He keeps climbing.

The sky’s lightening. Sun’ll be up soon. Hard to tell through the choke of smoke.

Hunter rounds a corner. Batcher’s hunkered down on the path, her face hidden. Crosshair slumps against the wall, his back to the sea, helmet forgotten beside him.

For a moment, Hunter doesn’t know if he’s dead or alive.

He’s so tired. Hunter sinks down beside his brother. “Crosshair.”

There’s only silence, an awful, empty silence. Crosshair doesn’t move.

“Crosshair.” Hunter reaches out, shakes him by the shoulder, the breath catching in his throat when Crosshair turns and stares at him.

He doesn’t blink. He still looks dead. His eyes are —

“I failed the mission,” Crosshair whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” says Hunter. “I know.”

The sun rises red over Pabu, dark smoke fouling the air, and neither of them feel anything at all.

[itsindiana]

gang i don't know what to do with myself i need more than 2 more bad batch episodes . c'mere and yap about anything bad batch / clone / etc etc related i need to feel alive

[techs-goggles9902]

Can you do at Tech lives fan-fic (like if Tech is CX-2)??

CX-2 is all that remains

Warnings: prosthetic stuff, mentions of blood and stuff, contact lenses 💀 scars and stuff, bacta usage, memory issues (ik nothing super bad but what if you had a fear of contacts??) TBB SPOILERS

Word count: 1457 (WHOA I WENT OVERBOARD)

A/N: IM SO SORRY I TOOK SO LONG ANON. I genuinely love the bad batch but I HATE WRITING THEM SOMETIMES 😭 I feel like I’m butchering their characters. But I gotchuuuuu!!! Lmk if I should continue this.

Requests are open! See Masterlist for details!!!!

IMPORTANT NOTE: some of this was supposed to be italicized but my copy and pasting removes it, so some of this stuff are their thoughts. Just an FYI

“You recognized it, too,” Hunter whispers to Crosshair as the group hurries up the rocks.

”I did. You said he died on Eriadu,” the sniper replies in a low mumble.

“He did… Wrecker watched him fall.”

”Well, obviously he survived. Next move?”

”Follow through with the plan, Cross. I’ll have Echo double back and take us down there.”

”But… it’s him?”

Hunter pauses. When he speaks, his voice cracks, “Tech’s alive. And with the Empire.”

Tech - no, CX-2! He had to get used to that - needs to get out of the water, and fast. The current pulls at him as he grips a narrow rock beneath the surface.

His helmet can only keep him alive for so long, he needs air sooner rather than later.

This isn’t ideal. The cybernetics will never last if their circuits are drenched.

His slender fingers lose their grip on the rock. One, two, three. The Shadow loses his grip entirely, his gloves ripped apart at the seams as the sharp ridges cut into the calloused flesh of his fingers.

The current throws him back into another rock, his backpack absorbing most of the impact.

There, he thinks as the water starts to seep into his body suit, I just need to make it to that ledge and my odds of survival increase significantly.

He feels his cybernetics digging into the tender flesh of his legs. The part where the river meets land was so close, yet so far. Reaching out a bloody hand, his shredded fingers are met with rough sediment.

Finally…

”Echo, Rex, please. It’s him! I feel it,” Hunter says, trying to keep Echo from making the jump into hyperspace.

“Hunter, what if it’s n-”

”Rex, your buddy isn’t coming after us. He let us go. There’s no risk in going down there,” Crosshair cuts in. Echo and Rex glance at each other.

Rex, Echo’s expression says, what if…

Echo, Rex’s body language reads, you said it yourself. He’s gone.

You didn’t give up on me.

Rex’s gaze softens. “Fine. You have ten minutes.”

Hunter lets out a breath, clasping Rex’s shoulder. He says, “I owe you.”

”You owe me a lot, Sarge.”

Echo lands the ship just off the riverbank but is still hidden in the trees in case Wolffe changes his mind. The ramp opens with a soft hiss and plants itself on the rocks with a gentle thud. The river laps against the rocks like white noise, the water running down the cliff adds to the effect.

And there, lying on the rocks, still half in the water, lies the Shadow. Barely conscious and panting, his bloodied fingers groping the sediment.

“Maker… Gregor, get the med kit!” Echo yells back into the ship as Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker trip over themselves to get down to the riverbank.

“Shit… Hunter, is he…” Wrecker asks in a low tone, kneeling down beside the semiconscious clone.

“His heart’s beating,” the sergeant replies.

“Damn… Wrecker, can you get him on the ship? Gently?” Echo asks, leaning down to check the assassin’s pulse.

“I got him.” Wrecker slowly turns the clone onto his back and snakes an arm beneath his knees and back. “I gotcha, I gotcha…”

CX-2 feels himself being lifted up off the ground, his helmet removed, his head resting on someone’s shoulder plate. He hears voices calling out to him, hands lowering him down onto something somewhat comfortable. A bunk?

His armor taken off his wet bodysuit, said bodysuit is either peeled or cut away from his body.

“Cybernetics aren’t the best quality… just a pawn in Hemlock’s game,” a gruff voice says.

“Oh, Tech…” a softer voice says.

“I told you that you should’ve taken medic training,” a different voice comments. A scoff follows.

“Stow it, Cross.” Cross… that seems so familiar to CX-2. All the voices do, even the soft, feminine one. A warm liquid oozes out of where prosthetics meet flesh. Blood.

“Shit, Gregor, hand me the gauze,” He knows this voice…

“Echo, keep pressure. I’m getting him bacta,” Echo… warm hands trail down his body, checking for further injuries.

“Crap… these prosthetics are absolute trash, I should know. Not even connected properly… Tech, if you were awake to see this mess…” the voice, Echo, scoffs. CX-2 hears a smile in his voice.

“Are…are they as good as yours?” CX-2 hears his own voice ask that. He doesn’t know why he said that. In fact, his mouth moved on its own accord. All sounds around him cease and everything’s quiet except the soft hum of the ship.

“I… no, sorry, bud…mine are cooler,” Echo responds. CX-2 feels a subtle smile tugging at his own lips. Why? These are the enemy. Someone tends to his mangled hands, cleaning them and wrapping them tenderly.

“Tech…” CX-2 hears that name being called over and over again. Whispered in his ear. Murmured into his forehead as soft lips make contact with the scarred skin. Breathed into his hands as someone holds them gently.

His eyes open, just for a moment, meeting the gaze of five pairs of brown eyes. “Tech is gone,” he says. “CX-2 is all that remains…” He’s out like a light a second later.

Hunter’s heart felt like it was stabbed, trampled, cut out of his chest, and thrown out onto a rock to die. Tech is gone… the words echo through his mind all the way back to Pabu. This wasn’t the reunion he had in mind when he realized the Shadow was actually his little brother.

Crosshair doesn’t know how to feel. He abandoned his squad, his family, for the Empire. Is this karma, he thought.

Nonsense, Tech’s voice whispers in his head, this has nothing to do with you. The rational explanation is that the Empire succeeded in turning me into an assassin where they failed to turn you. Do not blame yourself, Crosshair. There was nothing you could do to stop this.

But I could’ve known, Crosshair’s voice whispers back to Tech’s, we would’ve been at Tantiss together.

And how could you possibly have known that, Cross?

Wrecker just tries to keep Omega away from their unconscious brother. “He needs his rest, Meg.”

“I won’t leave until he wakes up,” the blonde replies, crossing her arms. “I’m not bothering him, anyway.”

Wrecker sighs, placing a hand on her scrawny shoulder. He mutters, “Tech’s always been the one to take care of us… it’s weird that we’re taking care of him.”

“I know… what did he mean by ‘Tech’s gone’?”

“I… I don’t know. Cross said the Empire erases their previous lives while they turn them into… this. He’ll pull through and we’ll be losing to him in dejarik in no time.”

Echo was confused. Tech had just asked him about his cybernetics, meaning he did in fact remember them, at least somewhat. He stares out the viewport in the cockpit, his fingers picking at his scomp link. Tech always hated when he did that.

The next time CX-2 resurfaces, he’s staring up at a - wooden? - ceiling, definitely not a ship’s. A house? Hut? Cabin? He groans, lifting a hand up to pinch the scarred bridge of his nose. His face was littered with thick, ragged scars. Ever since Eriadu.

He looks at his hand in surprise as he sees its bandage has been changed recently. Where is he? CX-2 sits up slowly, orienting himself as he goes. The room is warm, small but not small enough that you feel claustrophobic. A window is above the bed he’s currently lying on, soft light filtering through the translucent curtains. He strains his neck to peer out of it.

Pabu…

He gets off the bed, looking down at his prosthetics, which start just below the knee. They’re sturdier as he stands and they don’t restrict his movement like they used to. They’re… comfortable.

He quietly - as quiet as you can get with two durasteel feet - leaves the room, examining the hallway. A kitchen is down the hall, so he heads there. Wincing, he looks around the corner to see if anyone’s there.

There is.

Crosshair…

“C’mere, Tech,” the sniper says, gesturing to the seat at the island beside him. CX-2 hobbles over to it, taking a seat silently.

“I’m not the brother you remember,” he rasps, looking out the window.

“No shit… no goggles?”

“Hemlock thought I should wear contacts so the goggles don’t break out on a mission.”

Crosshair hums in response.

“Why did you come back?”

The sniper takes a moment to respond, “Couldn’t leave you behind.”

It’s CX-2’s - no, Tech’s - turn to hum in response. He feels Crosshair leaning against him slightly.

“You’re not who you used to be, but we’ll get there. Right?”

“Possibly.”

Crosshair scoffs, “Good to have you back.”

Taglist: @will-is-silly @fionajames @sevdidntdie @hellhound5925 @dangraccoon @skellymom

Please let me know if you want to be taken off or join the list!!!

[slaanesh12]

A kiss in the rain when?

[kybercrystals94]

Stolen Time

Read here on Ao3!

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 | Week 4 | "You really think you're going without me? Not going to happen."

Rated: G | Words: 4,213

Author’s Note: Is this idea unique? Nah. Did I write it anyway? Absolutely I did. *throws another Tech-lives fic into the fandom*

The sensation of falling is not unfamiliar; however, the sensation of helplessness, of utter resignation, of a broken heart…these catch like a sob in Tech’s throat. Mere seconds stretch into an eternity. The devastated expressions of his siblings are seared behind his eyelids when he closes his eyes. He wishes they hadn’t witnessed him fall. It will haunt them, he knows. He never wanted that for them. However, he’d rather that they live with the trauma than die trying to save him. The price of his life for theirs is one he willingly pays. 

He just hopes that the impact kills him instantaneously.

***

He breaks the surface of consciousness with a breathless gasp. When he moves to sit up, a weight on each of his shoulders holds him back. A soothing voice speaks incomprehensibly and close, warm breath on his face. Tech continues to choke down gulps of air, his lungs greedily accepting the panicked doses. 

Words begin to take shape in the voice above him, and he hears his name, spoken so softly and gently that Tech knows that the speaker loves him. But he doesn’t recognize the voice, although his mind feels thick and muddled. Perhaps he simply cannot remember. 

“Easy, Tech, you’re safe. Shhh, you’re safe.” The weight on his shoulders lifts, and a heavier weight folds around him instead. It startles him until he realizes that it is an embrace, arms threaded behind him, pulling him close. “I missed you. We missed you. It’s alright. Shhh.” 

He doesn’t understand why the voice continues to hush him, as if he is making any noise at all. And then he hears it. Feels it. Shuttering sobs, hot tears, trembling limbs. But he doesn’t understand why. 

“Where am I?” he chokes out, “Why can’t I see?” 

“Your vision will come back,” the voice says, now close to his ear, “It’s a side effect of being in stasis. You were there for a long time.” 

Stasis…

“Who are you?” Tech asks next. “Why do I know you?” 

The voice does not answer for a long time, but the embrace holding becomes impossibly tighter. The face against his neck feels wet. “Oh, Tech. It’s me…It’s Omega.” 

“Omega?” Tech’s mind cannot reconcile the little girl of his memories with the woman’s voice speaking now. 

You were there for a long time. 

Years. Lost. Gone.

I missed you. We missed you.

His sister. His brothers. 

“We’re on our way back to Pabu,” Omega says. She pulls back, the weight of her embrace gone from his chest. It leaves an ache in its absence. Before he can despair, hands wrap around his, holding fast. “I haven’t told them that I’m coming…that we’re coming. They wouldn’t believe me unless they saw you with their own eyes.”

“Hunter,” Tech gasps out. “Wrecker?” 

“And Crosshair,” Omega adds. “They’re safe.” 

A knotted pain in his chest loosens, one he hadn’t recognized was there until Omega said the name. They’d found Crosshair. They’d brought him home. This time, Tech knows why he begins to cry, and knows that it is his little sister that gently comforts him. 

***

His vision comes back as Omega said it would; however, his sight remains impaired without his goggles to assist. Omega hands the lenses over, cracked and damaged from his fall, evidently, long ago. He doesn’t put them on. They won’t do much good in their dismal state.

Glancing up at the young woman sitting next to him, Tech experiences a strange and hollow grief. “You look older,” he says. “Much older than I remember you.” 

Omega smiles. “Wait until you see our brothers,” she tells him with a wink. It is meant to be humorous, but it just sends another wave of grief. That is what Tech is afraid of, if he is honest with himself. They will have aged while he has stayed the same. Having matured with them concurrently all his life, the reality that they have carried on without him is disheartening.

“Are they happy?” Tech asks, fingers tracing lightly over the broken glass of his goggles. 

Omega considers the question carefully. “Yes, they are,” she says at last. “They weren’t happy when I joined the Rebellion, but it was a different sort of sadness, I think. I might be older and stronger and wiser, but I’ll always be the little girl from Kamino, won’t I?” Omega chuckles. “Always my little brothers’ kid sister.” 

Tech can appreciate that sentiment. He releases a huffed chuckle. 

“But how are you feeling?” Omega asks. “It must be overwhelming.”

“It is,” Tech agrees. “It does not quite seem real. Like it might be an elaborate hallucination.” 

“If it would help,” Omega says, the edge of her lips quirking into a mischievous grin, “I can pinch you.” 

Tech snorts, rolling his eyes. “That is not necessary. I only said it doesn’t quite seem real.” 

Omega shrugs. “Just putting the offer out there.” 

“You have become quite adept at flying,” Tech says, shifting the subject away from himself. He hasn’t seen more than Omega’s little vessel hurtling through hyperspace, which does not take any sort of talent; however, the comment seems to shift something in Omega’s stance. She looks proud, as though he has just paid her the highest of compliments. 

Perhaps he has. 

Omega leans back in the pilot’s seat. “I hope so. That’s kind of my job now.” 

“Indeed?” 

Omega spends the hours of hyperspace recounting to Tech everything he’s missed. While his sister is animated and entertaining in narrative, it is shared with a subtle detachment. After all, she is sharing her past, her history. He is catching up, trying to understand the circumstances which have shaped the future he has unceremoniously stepped into. 

And while he listens with rapt attention, it also breaks his heart.

***

Omega’s flying skills are fully demonstrated as they approach the familiar island on Pabu. Omega guides her ship toward the base of the island rather than the landing pad at the top. When Tech opens his mouth to ask, Omega answers before he can get a word out. “Oh, you’ll love this, Tech. Watch.” 

With the practiced ease of a veteran pilot, Omega brings them nearly to the surface of the ocean, steering the ship into the gaping mouth of a cavern, neither wings nor fin scraping any sort of stone. Deftly, she activates the landing sequence, bringing the vessel to rest on the floor of the cave.

“Where was this when the Marauder was destroyed?” Tech retorts. 

Omega sighs. “Hindsight is much clearer than foresight,” she says. “In our defense, we were trying to load the ship to flee Pabu at the time.”

Tech is fully aware; however, the sharp sting of loss is still persistent. 

“If we give them a minute, I’m sure they are on their way down from the house,” Omega says, standing and stretching, her spine and shoulders popping loudly in the now silent ship. “Hunter has a radar for incoming ships.”

Tech looks out the viewport. The cavern has been lit up with strategically placed light sources, likely activated by their arrival. The island is already dark, several hours into the night cycle, although the evening is young enough that their brothers would not have gone to bed yet. 

Omega walks back into the main hold and begins shoving items into a leather bag. Tech watches her, feeling unsure what to do with himself. He does not have anything, possession or otherwise. If Omega notices the awkwardness, she does not show it, and merely slings the strap of her bag over her shoulder before lowering the ramp. 

“And there they are,” she says softly, tossing him a grin over her shoulder before she descends the steps two at a time. 

Tech hears them, their voices familiar but strange. More conversational and emotive than he remembers them…with the exception of Wrecker, of course. He sounds exactly the same. They greet Omega cheerfully, questions about her wellbeing and health tangling over one another. Is she being careful? Has she been getting enough sleep? Enough to eat? Resting between missions? Omega patiently answers each one, and Tech can hear an indulgent smile in her voice. 

“You should have told us you were coming home,” Hunter admonishes lightly, with absolutely no heat in his tone. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” Omega says. “Because I found something…someone…and I brought him back just as soon as I could.” 

Tech knows that that is his cue. He inhales a deep breath, but it shudders weakly when he exhales. Stepping into the doorway, he finally sees his brothers. Without the benefit of his goggles, their expressions are smudged to his view, but they go completely still, frozen in place as they stare up at him. To his mind, it has only been a few short hours since he has seen them, and with Crosshair, long months.  

But to his brothers, it has been nearly a lifetime. They have mourned him, honored his memory by living as he hoped they would always be able to live: free and safe. He does not know how they will react to seeing that he is alive, preserved just as they last remembered him. A living, breathing ghost. Time has stopped once again when none of them move. Tech doesn’t know how to set the chrono ticking again.

To his relief, Omega breaks the silence. “We discovered a warehouse containing hundreds of cryo-cycle stasis pods. From the intel we’ve decrypted, it seems that Hemlock kept what he referred to as promising specimens that he thought might be useful in future projects. When Project Necromancer was shut down, the coordinates to the warehouse were lost. We recovered dozens of survivors, Tech being one of them.” 

Although Tech has already heard this news, Omega having shared the details of his rescue as soon as he was coherent enough to comprehend, he hears it anew from the perspective he might have if the roles were reversed.  

He imagines the shock alone is incomprehensible. Painful even.

“You mean he’s been alive all this time?” A voice asks, shattered with jagged edges. “We could have found him…Hemlock might’ve told us…” 

It takes Tech a moment to process that it is Crosshair speaking, his most severe and unyielding brother’s voice bloodied and raw.  

Omega shakes her head. “No. We can’t think like that,” she says firmly. “What matters is that he’s back now. We have our brother back now. Wondering what we might’ve done differently won’t change anything.” Her tone leaves no room for argument.

“I don’t remember anything after my fall on Eriadu,” Tech supplies weakly, stepping down from the ramp. “I…had no awareness until Omega found me.” 

He hopes that the knowledge is a small comfort; however, it seems to have the opposite effect. Tech desperately wishes for the lightheartedness of several minutes prior, when he was still out of view, and Omega’s presence had brought their brothers immense joy. 

But suddenly, the mood shifts again, an unruly tide determined to be unpredictable. Wrecker laughs, the sound reverberating off the uneven cavern walls, echoing back at them. He rushes forward and envelops Tech in a familiar, bone crushing embrace. It entirely dispels the air from Tech’s lungs, and he gasps for breath even as he smiles. 

“We missed you, Techie!” Wrecker tells him, lifting Tech bodily from the ground. 

Tech wheezes out, “I would say the same, but it only feels as though I took a prolonged sleep cycle.” 

“Let him breathe, Wrecker,” Omega says, but she is laughing too, the gentle chide ignored for several more moments before Tech is released to a looser hold, Wrecker’s arm still around him. 

Hunter comes forward next and puts his hands on Tech’s shoulders, dark eyes searching Tech’s face for something Tech doesn’t know. “You haven’t aged a day, have you?” his oldest brother asks. 

“Well, that is the design of the stasis pod,” Tech tells him. 

Hunter laughs and pulls Tech close, his embrace nearly rivaling Wrecker’s in its intensity. “And you haven’t changed at all, my brilliant little brother,” he says softly.  

Tech feels the irritating sensation of moisture gathering in his eyes at the gentle words, but he does not wish to cry in front of his brothers. He has done quite enough of that in front of his sister. 

With some effort and not a little regret, Tech disentangles himself from Wrecker and Hunter’s grasp. There is one brother he has not seen since the destruction of Kamino, has not directly spoken to since he stepped in to draw Wrecker away from Crosshair’s cruelty. 

“Let it go, Wrecker. Crosshair has always been severe and unyielding. It is his nature. You can not change that. He cannot change that.”

“Why are you defending me?” 

“I am not. Understanding you does not mean that I agree with you.”

If Omega’s stories are anything to go by and bear any weight of reliability, it seems that Tech was wrong. Crosshair could change, did change, has changed. Tech wants to see and speak to his returned brother for himself, apologize for not pushing to recover him sooner. 

But when Tech steps around Wrecker and Hunter, and they all turn to where Crosshair had stood, the space is empty, gone like a shadow banished by light. 

***

It takes much convincing, but Tech is finally allowed to search for Crosshair on his own. He suspects that their conversation is better done in private. Omega offers him a few places that their brother might have disappeared to, but Tech is fortunate enough to find Crosshair in the first one. It is a tree house near the top of the island, built by his brothers for Omega and any children who might enjoy it. This late in the night, the little structure is seemingly vacant, but Tech climbs the rungs of the rope ladder anyway. Crosshair sits across from the narrow opening in the floor, back against the short wall, one leg out and one drawn up with his arms crossed and propped on his knee. 

“Hello,” Tech says, pulling himself up and settling himself across from Crosshair. 

Crosshair’s face is turned down, and even if he lifted it, Tech could probably not read his expression in the dim light. “Omega already told you about all of our hiding spots?” Crosshair asks. 

Tech hums, glancing around. “Not all of them, I’m sure. She only gave me a brief summary of the most likely locations.”

“I’m surprised you snuck away,” Crosshair says. “I didn’t think Hunter would let you out of his sight for the next ten standard years.” 

“That is a gross exaggeration,” Tech muses, “and I did not sneak anywhere. I told them I was going, and they let me. You on the other hand…” 

Crosshair makes a scoffing noise. It is so achingly familiar that Tech feels a tight fist of emotion lodge in his throat. It does not take much effort to imagine that this is one of the many times that Tech has sought Crosshair out, sitting with him in the quiet of a supply closet until he was ready to return to the barracks. They had always been able to communicate in silent moments, a steady presence when words were inadequate. 

The silence between them now, however, is stilted and strained. A weight and a distance. 

Tech desperately wants to fill it. Before he fell, when he thought they were going to rescue Crosshair from the Empire, Tech had rehearsed what he might say. But now, against Tech’s will, with years passed, his practiced words have expired. Crosshair has come back, has changed, has grown older in both body and mind. A few months to Tech are now years and memories to Crosshair. 

Tech does not know what to say, does not know what reparations have already been made. What he could add, what he should add, what he should leave to rest. 

He wishes he had asked Omega for more insight rather than a basic history of events. 

To his surprise, it is Crosshair that fills the silence instead. “They told me it was you that first wanted to ignore my warning message.” 

“Only because it was I that found it first,” Tech says. 

“I told you to hide.” 

“We were never ones to follow orders, were we?” Tech asks with a grin. 

“You shouldn’t have died,” Crosshair says, voice thick. 

“And I didn’t,” Tech returns. “Merely an extended absence.” 

Crosshair growls at that. “Merely,” he sneers, but Tech recognizes the grief. It is a reflection of his own. 

“Not merely,” Tech amends. “I do not regret my attempted sacrifice. But since I did not perish, I regret that I have missed growing old with all of you, seeing Omega grow up.” 

“It’s my fault. If I hadn’t…if I had just come with you on Kamino…” Crosshair cuts himself off.

Tech sighs. “Do not try to shoulder the weight of shared blame, Crosshair. We might have all made different decisions with different outcomes. I am sorry we did not try to find you sooner.” 

Crosshair shakes his head, and Tech hears a sharp intake of breath. He is moving before he thinks better of it, sitting next to Crosshair on the rough, wood slat floor. He wraps an arm around Crosshair’s back, drawing him into his side. The former sniper resists at first, leaning away, but Tech takes a metaphorical page from Wrecker’s book and holds fast until Crosshair resigns to be held. 

“I know that I am late to say it; however, it is true nonetheless,” Tech says in a low voice. “I am most relieved you found your way home.” 

“It was Omega’s fault,” Crosshair huffs. He swallows audibly and adds, “She brought you home too.” 

Tech smiles. “She does have an uncanny aptitude for finding things that are lost.” 

“How is it that you can say something profound and make it sound like an understatement?” Crosshair chuckles brokenly. 

“It is one of my many talents,” Tech says. 

They sit for a long time in comfortable silence.

***

Omega announces that she can stay on Pabu for two weeks. What is exploring the island to Tech is reminiscing to his siblings as they share stories and memories associated with every place they go. 

This large rock formation on the west beach is where Crosshair and Hunter taught Omega how to dive. 

This little fishing boat is the one they built together during their first spring on Pabu. 

These tide pools are where they spent nearly every Benduday in the summer. 

This is where they built a sand castle so big that it took the tide nearly a week to smooth it back to nothing. 

This clearing is where they’d go camping to practice Omega’s survival skills. 

This is the street Omega was running down when she fell and broke her arm. 

This is the food stall where they’d get their decanting day treats every year. 

Countless memories excitedly shared. 

And he missed every single one. 

It is the last afternoon before Omega leaves that their brothers return to the house early. They do not say it, but Tech can see that they are tired, their stamina not the same as it was when they were soldiers and younger. So they leave Omega and Tech and Batcher down on the beach, telling them they’ll have fresh caf ready for them when they come home. 

Tech and Omega watch Batcher chase after the moon-yos, the little creatures chattering at the lurca hound as they scamper just out of reach. Omega chuckles sadly, poking at the sand with a piece of driftwood. “She's getting old,” she mutters. “The moon-yos are letting her keep up.” 

“Batcher does not seem to mind,” Tech observes. 

“She doesn’t know any better,” Omega says. “She doesn’t know that time is a thief. Sometimes, I wish I didn’t know either. Just enjoy each and every day without wondering when it will end.” 

That is a somber thought. Tech turns his gaze to the water, waves calmly lapping the shore, unperturbed by the bleak conversation. 

“You will leave tomorrow?” Tech asks. 

Omega nods. “At sunup.” 

Batcher starts barking at something she’s found, leaping and wagging her tail. Omega smiles and pushes herself to her feet, going to see what the beast has discovered. 

Tech knows why his brothers do not join Omega in the Rebellion. They have already fought a war, fought for the life they now have, the peace they’ve now embraced. He discussed it with them late one night after Omega had gone to bed. It was not a decision made lightly, especially Omega leaving to join the Rebellion on her own. Hunter admitted that her ambitions clashing with his fear had led to many heated arguments in the beginning, until Omega tried to slip away into the night without warning. Omega is a warrior, a rescuer, a fighter. She is restless and uneasy until she knows she has done everything in her power to help those in need.

Tech understands her drive deeply. But to watch her leave again, he does not think he can stand it. He’s already lost so much time…

“Perhaps,” Tech says, softly, almost inaudible over the noise of the surf, “I will come with you.” 

Omega doesn’t hear him, but he’s already made up his mind. 

***

Tech wakes before the sun rises, but Omega’s room is already empty. She said her goodbyes last night to each of them, and Tech did not say a word about his plan; however, he had hoped to catch her before she left the house. He does not have much, but he snatches the small bag he packed and bolts out the front door, not as quietly as he would have hoped. The path to the cavern has become familiar enough that even in the dim light of approaching dawn, he finds his way quickly. 

He only slows his pace when he sees his sister ahead of him, just entering the gaping mouth of the cave.

“If you are under the impression that you are going without me, that is not going to happen,” he says as he comes in behind her. 

Omega stops short and her shoulders drop subtly, before she turns to face him, dark eyes weary. “Tech, you belong here, with our brothers. We just got you back…we can’t - we won’t - risk losing you again.” 

“That is not for any of you to decide,” Tech declares. “You have chosen that your path is with the Rebellion, and I have chosen that my path is with my sister. So much of my time has been stolen. I did not see you grow up as our brothers did. I did not help teach you or raise you. I can make up for that now.”

“Tech,” Omega sighs, “You taught me so much–” 

“Please, Omega,” Tech cuts her off. “I have already decided. Do not try to leave me behind, because we both know I can and will find alternate means. It would be much simpler this way.” 

That makes his sister smile, a battle worn grin that looks far too old. “I suppose you’re right about that,” she concedes, shifting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “But what will Hunter say?” 

“He’d probably say don’t take unnecessary risks, and watch out for one another,” Hunter’s voice calls out. 

Tech takes a steadying breath before he faces his brothers who have come in behind them. “Apologies, I did not mean to wake you when I left,” he says.

“If you hadn’t meant to wake us,” Crosshair says with a wry grin, “you wouldn’t have sounded like a herd of stampeding rancors as you ran out the door.” 

“Rancors do not move in herds,” Tech tells him. 

Crosshair groans. “It made my point, didn’t it?”  

“I was trying to catch up to Omega,” Tech explains, “I fully intended on returning to give my farewells before officially departing.” 

“You better have,” Wrecker says, scooping Tech up in his arms. “You keep an eye on little Meg. She’s a crazy pilot. Learned it from you.” 

“It’s called skill,” Omega retorts playfully. “But yes, I did learn it from Tech.” 

Tech wriggles out of Wrecker’s grip in time for Crosshair to sidle up and put a loose arm over Tech’s shoulder. “Make Omega come visit more often,” he says. 

Hunter nods. “And make sure she calls us at least once a week.” 

Omega rolls her eyes. “Guys, Tech’s not coming to be my babysitter. If anything, I’m going to be reminding him we need to call.”

“In that case,” Hunter says, pulling Omega into his arms, “make sure Tech comes and visits his older brothers once in a while, huh?”

Omega leans into him. “Of course. We both will. I promise.” 

It is well past sunup before Tech and Omega board her ship. He waits for her to move to the pilot’s seat, but she hangs back, watching him with a smile. “You wanna get us out of here?” she asks. “Modified this beauty myself…well, Echo helped. But you can let me know how she handles.” 

Tech grins. He does not need to be asked twice. 

END

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