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theanglethen · 14 hours ago

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Sergeant Hunter | The Bad Batch

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areyoufuckingcrazy · 17 hours ago

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Hi! I was so happy to see you take requests!! I was wondering if you could do a Hunter X reader where she takes care of his hair? Plays with it and brushes it maybe then he confesses his love for her?

You write so beautifully and I would love to see any of your added flare! 💖

“Flower Tactics”

Hunter x Reader

You’d never admit it out loud, but you were obsessed with Hunter’s hair.

Not just in a “wow, that man is rugged and beautiful” kind of way—which he was, obviously—but in a “let me run my fingers through it and brush it until it shines like war-hardened silk” kind of way. It was therapeutic. Meditative. And, much to your delight, he let you do it.

Today, he sat cross-legged on a crate while you perched behind him on a bench, methodically brushing through his dark locks. His bandana was off, laying beside him, and he looked entirely too relaxed for a trained soldier.

“Y’know,” you mused as you carefully untangled a knot, “if you were any more relaxed, I’d think you were napping.”

“I might be,” Hunter replied, voice low and content. “Your fingers are dangerous. You could put a rancor to sleep with that touch.”

“Is that a compliment or a warning?”

“Both.”

You laughed and leaned forward slightly, tugging the brush down again. “So… you’re telling me I have tactical hair magic?”

“I’m saying if you ever turn on us, brushing me into unconsciousness would be an effective ambush.”

A beat passed.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said sweetly, and Hunter let out a low, amused chuckle.

“I like her,” Wrecker announced from across the Marauder’s hull. He was munching on something that definitely wasn’t a vegetable. “She’s got a whole plan to take you down, and you’re just sittin’ there like a sleepy tooka.”

“Only because you’re jealous I’ve got hair to brush,” Hunter quipped back.

Wrecker puffed out his chest dramatically. “You think if I glue some on, she’ll brush mine too?”

“No,” you replied immediately. “But I’ll draw flowers on your scalp.”

Tech sighed. “Please don’t encourage him.”

“Oh, I’m not encouraging,” you grinned. “I’m enabling. Very different.”

You reached into the little pouch at your side and pulled out a tiny cluster of wildflowers—yellow, blue, soft white. Carefully, you started weaving them into Hunter’s braid.

He noticed.

“…Are you putting flowers in my hair?” His voice held that dangerous edge, but you could hear the smile buried underneath.

“Absolutely.”

“I’m a soldier.”

“Even soldiers deserve to look cute.”

“Cute?” he asked, amused.

“Devastatingly cute,” you corrected, giving the braid a final tug. “There. Now you’re battle-ready and bouquet-chic.”

From the back, Echo groaned. “I can’t believe I’m seeing this.”

“You’re just mad no one wants to flower-bomb your hair,” you teased.

“He doesn’t have any,” Omega piped up helpfully, skipping into the room. She stopped in front of Hunter and beamed. “You look so pretty!”

Hunter raised an eyebrow. “Pretty, huh?”

“You should let her do your hair every day,” Omega added slyly. “You smile more when she’s touching it.”

Hunter froze. So did you.

Wrecker burst into laughter so loud it shook the crate.

“Oof! She got you good!” he said, pointing at Hunter like it was the funniest thing he’d seen all week.

You cleared your throat, cheeks warm. “Smart kid.”

“She’s not wrong,” Hunter muttered.

You blinked. “…What?”

Hunter turned, slowly, looking up at you with that intense expression that made your brain short-circuit. “I do smile more when you touch me.”

It wasn’t a tease. It wasn’t a joke.

He meant it.

Your breath caught in your throat. “That’s… dangerous information.”

“I trust you with it.” His gaze softened. “And maybe a little more than that.”

You stared at him, heart hammering. “Are you saying…?”

“I’m saying I love it when you brush my hair. I love it when you laugh. I love it when you drive the others crazy, and when you sneak me extra caf rations, and when you make even this ship feel like home.”

Wrecker snorted. “Finally.”

Echo made a gagging noise. Tech muttered, “Statistically speaking, it was only a matter of time.”

Omega clapped her hands and declared, “About time!”

Hunter smiled up at you through his flower-crowned braid. “So? What do you say?”

You bent down and kissed his forehead, fingers brushing gently through his hair. “I say… I’m going to need a lot more flowers.”

⸻

The ship had gone still.

No snark from Echo. No clanking from Wrecker. No light tinkering from Tech. Even Omega was tucked into her bunk, curled up with Lula like the galaxy couldn’t touch her.

And in the silence of that rare peace, Hunter sat on the edge of your bed with his back to you, braid still woven down his back, the tiny wildflowers now a little wilted from the heat of the day.

You stepped behind him quietly, holding the soft brush he always let you use. Always yours to borrow.

“Can I?” you asked gently, even though you both already knew the answer.

Hunter nodded once. “Please.”

So you started at the bottom—slowly, carefully loosening the braid, your fingers delicate. The petals came free one by one, falling onto the blanket like pieces of some strange memory.

He didn’t speak. Not yet.

And you didn’t push him.

Instead, you moved gently through his hair, unwinding the tightness of the day. With each pass of your hands, his shoulders lowered, his breath slowed.

You didn’t need the words.

But you wanted them.

You loved him. You’d known it for a while now. And maybe you were scared that if you said it, it would break the fragile, perfect peace that this quiet moment gave you both.

But you didn’t have to say it first.

He did.

Softly. Barely above a whisper. Like it had been resting on his tongue all day, just waiting to be safe enough to speak.

“I love you.”

You froze—just for a breath. Then smiled so softly it ached in your chest.

“I know,” you whispered back, fingers brushing behind his ear. “I’ve known.”

He turned to look at you. Hair loose, shadowed eyes soft, vulnerability written in every line of his face.

“Then why haven’t you said it?”

You leaned in, resting your forehead against his. “Because I wanted you to say it first.”

Hunter huffed out a tiny laugh. “Tactical move.”

“Always,” you smiled.

He reached up and cupped your jaw gently, his touch feather-light. “I love you,” he repeated, more sure now. “Not just when you’re brushing my hair. Not just when you’re teasing the others. Always.”

You kissed him this time—slow and lingering, hands tangled in his now-loose hair, wild and soft between your fingers.

“I love you too,�� you whispered into the space between your lips.

The flowers were gone. The braid undone.

But somehow, this moment felt even more whole.