#ttb fanfic

[chicknstripz]

∘₊✧ [[ Taken ]] ✧₊∘

Pairing|| GN!Reader X Crosshair Word Count|| 1582 Tags|| Mild teasing, Fluff, Soft!Crosshair, Short reader (No specific height mentioned, Sexual intimacy mentioned, Cross has 0% shame! Synopsis|| You give Crosshair a special gift to remind him that someone loves him.

'Holiday' prompt for @clonexreaderbingo

Lazy mornings spent in bed where your favorite thing. The feel of freshly laundered sheets against your skin, the sound of idle chatter from the living room as Cross’s brothers made themselves breakfast, and the sensation of his arms pulling you close as he mumbled sleep roughed ‘morning’ would never cease to satisfy. You smile as you sink into him, the warmth of his body just enough to lull you into a slight doze, but alas the youngest occupant of your shared home had other ideas - their sing-song voice breaking the idyl as they broke into your room. “Ba’vodu! Ba’vodu! It’s life day! C’mon! It’s time to open presents!” You think you hear Cross utter a curse beneath his breath, another of his halfhearted complaints about how Hunter had too soft a heart as he propped himself on one elbow. “It is not morning yet Omega.” The young girl giggles, completely unbothered by his stern tone as she clambers into your bed. “Yes it is!! It’s ooh five hundred to be exact!” Cross clicks his tongue in disapproval, his quick reflexes preventing your niece from disturbing your relaxed state. He holds her back with relative ease, gently guiding her from your side of the bed to his, his head shaking the whole time as he situates her beside him. “Mir’sheb.” Omega gasps, her hands flying to her mouth as she turns her honied gaze to you “Ba’vodu Cross said a bad word!” You laugh, the sound vibrating pleasantly in your chest as you sit upright. The sun has barely warmed the opposite wall, the slight slits from the shutters casting long lines of orange along the pale blue. Crosshair himself looks caught between mild amusement and frustration, his tired eyes showing the desire to still be asleep, but he would never ever take that out on Omega - his warm sleepy smile curling his lip as you giggle at Omega ‘horrors’ “Don’t worry ‘megs, I’ll make sure he gets an appropriate punishment” “Promises, promises” You laugh at Cross’s whispered comment as you sit upright, one hand adjusting the bed covers to keep your nakedness covered, whilst the other motions to the half open door of your bedroom. Personally you’d rather stay in bed for a few more hours, properly wake up, but you knew Omega well enough by now to know that she wouldn’t leave you alone. Not with presents on the line! You somehow get her to vacate the room, your firm promises to follow after her in short order encouraging her out the door, and you let out a little sigh as you look back at Cross with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I should know to lock the door by now.” “S’alright, she’d just slice the lock anyway.” You don’t think you’ll get over how competent the kid is, or how much her brothers encourage her lawless behavior. To them it’s a useful life skill, to you it’s troubling, your frown earning you a poke in the side from Cross. “Better for her to practice on family, then complete strangers” “You won’t be saying that if she walks in on us having sex.” “Kids gotta learn.”

You can’t decide if he’s teasing you or if he simply has no shame. Both are equally likely with the sniper. You give him a long hard look, your eyes narrowed so much it draws a laugh from him, and you almost laugh along with him as you realize it was the former rather than the later. Kriffing idiot! How you’d ever fallen in love with him was a mystery, yet here you were trying to hold back laughter as you pulled one of his shirts over your head.

“You’re a menace, you know that right?”

“Guilty as charged”

You continue shaking your head as you pull on a pair of pants, the gleam of a carefully wrapped present making you smile. You’d intended to give it to him later tonight, once the others had gone to sleep, but seeing him there - stretching in the early morning light - it dashed all your plans. You grabbed it, rubbed a thumb over the patterned paper, and turned toward him with a smile.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I got you a little something.”

“How touching”

Again you laughed, the old snark from back in the day now a joke you shared. Oh how you’d bickered back in the day, back and forth for days on end, but now? Well, you’d be pressed to match the old Cross with the new Cross. It was as if the transition from being a soldier to a mercenary had awakened something in him, the days and days of providing for and protecting Omega bringing out a softness he’d hidden for so very long. The present is brought close to your heart, your smile momentarily becoming playful disappointment.

“Well, if you don’t want it ...”

You all but bark out a laugh as he takes it from your hand, his breath warming your ear as he kisses your brow.

“Don’t be a brat.”

“Look who's calling the weequay slimy.”

The comment earns you a gentle shove of the shoulder, his warm eyes gleaming in the light as he examines the present. His touch is gentle and tender, the present treated like a maker damned holy item, and you guess that to him - it is. He’s never had presents before you came along, never experienced warmth and love unless it came from a brother. Each corner of the paper is pulled away carefully, reverently, and you know that if you looked you’d find the paper stashed in his box of keepsakes. Oh yes. You know about that! Cross might think he’s being sneaky, but the underside of the bed doesn’t make for the best hiding spot in the world!

With the paper gone he next opens the box, his eyes going wide in shock at what he sees within. You’d spent days on the little project, pursuing the craft stall for beads in black and red, and blackened durasteel wire. It was an object of blood, sweat, and tears. The necklace checked and double checked to make sure you’d got the morse correct. Which you had if his little swallow was anything to go by, the microexpressions that crossed his facial features betraying just how touched he was by this.

“You ... want me to wear this?”

“Of course. You’re mine and I’m not afraid to let people know it.”

He cocks a brow at you, his fingers trailing the beaded proclamation of your love.

“And there was me thinking you weren't the possessive type.”

You take the necklace from him with a tut, your eyes full of warmth as you motion for him to crouch to your level.

“It’s got nothing to do with possession. It’s a little something for you to wear under your armor, a physical reminder that someone out there loves you, and if someone happens to see it? Well then all the better. It’ll just make ‘em wonder what type of person would fall hopelessly in love with you.”

Making people jealous or curious hadn’t been your intention, but you can’t help but admit that you got a thrill out of it. The mental image of someone’s eyes widening in surprise as they read the morse makes you beam from ear to ear. Crosshair wasn’t the type of person you’d associate with being ‘taken’, all hard edges and harsh snark with outsiders, and definitely not with someone like you. You were soft, considerate, the complete opposite of your significant other, and yet you worked - oh maker did you work! Your relationship grows from gripping friends to understanding lovers.

“Jealous too, anyone would think I was rubbing off on you.”

“Don’t get a big head Cross, Hunter can’t afford to widen them.”

He laughs, a muted little snicker that makes your heart leap as you secure the clasp.

“That's on him for spoiling the kid.”

“As if you don’t?”

He tries to give you his best glare, but fails, the mock offense twisting into a garish grin.

“It was about time the kid had a proper blaster.”

You smile alongside him, your thoughts drifting to the child sized firepuncher he’d sourced from one of his contacts. You couldn’t wait to see Omega open it, couldn’t wait to watch her learn to use it with skill and precision, and most of all you couldn’t wait to see Cross celebrate his first life day, the laughter that so often found you bubbling in your chest as you watched him enter the main room to raucous applause and playful teasing. He took it all with a sour smile and crossed arms, but you knew he was enjoying it, the dance in his eyes betraying the enjoyment he found from being among his family.

He enjoyed watching Omega open her presents, her innocence maintained by the hard work of her brothers. He enjoyed watching his brothers, his smile growing in smug glee every time they praised his gift choice. He enjoyed opening them, the simple joy of having possessions warming his facial features. But most of all? He enjoyed being with you, the care and love you gave treasured above all else as he brought you close to his side, the glimmer of the light catching the beads upon his neck making your heart swell with love.

He was yours and you were his, and nothing in the galaxy could ever tear you apart!

[elfdragon12]

Happy birthday to myself!!!

Perhaps not the first part of the storyline, but I wanted more Tracks/Raoul, so I wrote it up now. Plus two new illustrations!

I hope you all enjoy! <3

[spicy-apple-pie]

Thank you @cdelphiki for giving us a Damian that is a normal(ish) eight year old boy.

(GO READ THE IN FOR A POUND SERIES RIGHT NOW ITS SO GOOD)

[edsbacktattoo]

The Tolling Bells - Rated E

"I've always known you."

Here is the beginning, and this is where we are now.

In any life. 🌸🧁

[takeariskao3]

Written for #WeasleyWeek and @thethreebroomsticksfic 🧡 Day 7: Ginny Weasley

I DIDN'T CHEAT (but i'm still a traitor) by takearisk

Ginny had a boyfriend. She had a very nice, very thoughtful, very hot boyfriend. Dean carried her books, and walked her to class. He sat next to her at every meal, and helped her review for Transfiguration. He bought her sweets, and once drew her a really pretty landscape of the forest at sunrise. He was a good kisser—without being pushy—and all her housemates thought they were perfect together. Her mum even liked him. They’d been going out for months. Things were great. Things were supposed to be great. So, why in Merlin's name was she having an existential crisis in double Charms? Because of a certain sixth year Quidditch captain, who was an utter imbecile, and of course, figured out he liked her categorically too late.

read on ao3

[hinnyfied]

Star-Crossed

For @thethreebroomsticksfic's Weasley Week!

Prompt: Molly & Arthur Weasley

Arthur knew that as a Weasley, he would always be on the outskirts of the pureblood world, and in nearly all circumstances, that suited him just fine.

Except that being on the outs of pureblood society meant that he wasn’t good enough for them. 

He wasn’t good enough for the Prewetts.

And even that wouldn’t be such a bad thing were it not for the breathtakingly beautiful girl – the one whose smile filled Arthur with warmth that rivaled the sun, whose laughter made him feel such lightness that his feet scarcely touched the ground, and whose pure, unending kindness gave him hope in a world that felt more dark and cruel by the day.

As he sat in the common room, trying his best to study for his Potions OWL, he caught sight of her once again.

Molly Prewett was curled up in the plushy chair nearest the fire, her vibrant, sunset-coloured hair twisted up haphazardly and held in place with a spare quill. Her brows were furrowed in concentration as she pored over her notes, and her nose was scrunched up – the way it always was when she was dealing with something particularly difficult.

Arthur, who hadn’t the faintest idea how long he had been staring across the room, blushed furiously as Molly looked up and caught his gaze.

She smiled at him with that brilliant, world-altering smile and winked.

Arthur hastily returned to his book, willing his tomato-red cheeks to subdue but feeling satisfied nonetheless.

[thethreebroomsticksficfest]

We're moving! 🍻

Hello TTB! Our blog got mistakenly flagged many months ago, and it has made finding the blog and tag notifications difficult. So, before we move on to our next fest (coming soon!), we have made ourselves a shiny new blog.

Please head over to @thethreebroomsticksfic and give us a follow!

This blog will remain up, and links to all the previous fest content will be linked in a pinned masterpost over at the new blog, so none of the hard work that our wonderful fest participants have put forth will be going anywhere.

This blog will essentially remain up as an archive, and we look forward to bringing you all new content very soon on the shiny new blog!

Please give us a follow and a share, so we can welcome all our pub patrons back!

P.S. Want to join the TTB Discord server? Follow this link!

[omoriboii]

Brothers gettin a meal.

@misty-wisp 's bomo was hungii so it was up to the older bro to go grab some grub after they both finished doin' crimes.

TW blood ver below

[alohaemora]

Day 5: Fred and George

Numbered Days

Seven stories from the long, tense week between Harry’s departure from Little Whinging and Bill and Fleur’s fateful wedding night.

Or: The Weasleys prepare to go to war.

(Written for @thethreebroomsticksfic's “Weasley Week” fest.)

31 July 1997

“Where’re Ron and Harry?” Bill frowns at George as he and Fred pad quietly down the dark kitchen. Bill and Charlie are stood by the back door, arms laden with bottles of ale and bags of crisps leftover from Harry’s birthday dinner.

“Still in their room,” George whispers. “We were going to knock, but I’m pretty sure Hermione’s in there with them—they’ve put up a muffling charm.”

“Those three and their secrecy,” Charlie muses.

“What d’you know about it?” Fred snorts. “You’ve been back here about twenty minutes.”

George elbows Fred, shoots him a warning look—although neither Charlie nor Bill seem to pick up on the subtle accusation that laces Fred’s words.

“All right,” Bill sighs. “Charlie and I’ll head out to the broomshed to add some extra protective spells and set up some chairs. You two, wait here—fetch Ron and Harry once Hermione goes back to her room.”

“What? Why can’t we just come back to get them later?” Fred demands, stepping forward. George winces as a loud, pronounced creak sounds from the kitchen floor under Fred’s foot.

There’s a long silence among the four brothers as they all stand stock-still, staring at the door that separates the kitchen from the sitting room where their parents sleep. After a few moments of tense waiting, they release a collective breath of relief.

Bill rubs his forehead. “Look—will you both please just wait and get them? The more we shuffle in and out of the house, the riskier this crazy idea of yours gets.” He pauses, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I’m having a stag night in the broomshed of my childhood home in the middle of a war.”

Read the full chapter on AO3.

[ala-baguette]

-Me:  Okay, fiiiine.  You can write a little Viktor Krum/Hermione Granger meet-cute fic for The Three Broomsticks Yule Bash Fic Fest.  But let's keep it light, let's keep it fluffy, and let's keep it SHORT.  Then it's straight back to working on Knowing Where to Look!

-Also me:  *Opens web browser.  Search:  Christmas traditions in Bulgaria

-Okay, sure.  But let's not go overboard on the research.  This is a fluff piece.

-*Search: Bulgarian word for "father"*

-Is that really necessary?  We can just call him 'Dad,' surely.

-*Search: Popular liquor in Bulgaria

-Getting a little technical there.  Let's keep this simple.  You have your long-fic to work on, remember?  Short.  Fluffy.  Easy.  Quick.

-*Search: Effects of scoliosis in adulthood when untreated*

-Wait...  What are you doing?

-*Search: Mental health impacts on child competitive athletes*

-Hold on a sec.  This isn't sounding very fluffy...

-*Search: Bulgaria's role in the Cold War*

-Stop it!  Don't do it!

-*Search: The fall of Communism in Bulgaria in the early 1990s*

-STOP!  STOP IT RIGHT THERE!

-*Search: Death toll of refugees attempting to escape Bulgaria into Greece and Turkey*

-...Oh, I give up...

Read about Viktor’s backstory on AO3 here

[chicknstripz]

∘₊✧ [[ Take our leave ]] ✧₊∘

Pairing|| GN!Reader X Echo Word Count|| 1239 Tags|| Angst, Fluff, PTSD, body dysmorphia, Reader is hinted as being shorter then Echo Synopsis|| You’ve known for some time that Echo wants to leave the batch, have come to dread the moment he finally takes his leave, and when it finally comes? Well lets just say you make the only choice that feels right in your heart. 

Your heart aches. You knew this day would come, that you’d eventually have to choose between your heart and your friends, but for it to come so soon? It kills you.

You stand there and watch as Hunter wishes Echo the best, the Sargent’s face awash with deep understanding as he rests a hand to his shoulder. He’d known for some time that Echo wants to do more for the rebellion, that the morals that guide his heart causing deep distress for the former ARC every time they go on a mission. There had been a few days where he’d hoped to talk his brother round, had been moments where he begged silent gods to keep them together, but he knows that’s selfish - so he lets him go - his smile sad as he reminds Echo he still has a home with them Wrecker and Tech are next to say their goodbyes, their understanding of Echo’s nature revealed on their proud features. They knew their brother hated working for Cid, the skills he’d learned on Kamino barely tested by their missions, just as they knew that he’d like he was growing apart - his place in the batch never fully cemented. They didn’t need his slicing skills, Tech was just as good if not better then him even with his scomp, and they certainly didn’t need his infantry skills. The only reason why he’d gone with them, at first anyway, was because he felt like it was the only place he belonged - his dysphoria pushing him from his vode and toward the batch. Then you’d come along. The kaminoans had thought it prudent to assign a medic to the team, what with his addition to the group so soon after his discharge from the medbay, and you with your soft smiles and easy chatter had won him over. It also helped that you guided him through his PTSD more times then he could count, the soft thrum of your heart a reminder that he wasn’t stuck in some cryo-tube! Those nights had been some of the best, the way your hand covered the bare skin of his scalp soothing him back to reality, and he wishes he could ask you to come with him - the selfish thought burning his throat as you gather his hands into your waiting palms. “You’ve been wanting to do this awhile, haven't you?” It’s a statement more then a question, the soft words morphed by your accent. “Yeah.” His voice sounds like a stranger’s, the emotions that cling to his heart holding his throat with such intensity that he feels like he’s choking. “Why didn’t you say something?” He thought he’d made it obvious that he’d wanted to leave, his endless arguments with Hunter proving his deep discontent. But then he realizes something. Every argument he’d had? It had revolved around the Batch doing something, not him, his lips parting in a slight ‘O’ as he brings your hand to his armoured chest. “I was worried you might ask me to stay.” Your heart leaps at the admission, the cool outer of his armor leaching through your palm and into your heart. You’d never ask him to do something he was firmly against, but at the same time you knew just how hard you’d fight to keep your found family together. Hunter and his paternal desire to protect everyone in a ten foot radius. Tech and his annoying habit of becoming a back seat medic whenever you needed to patch someone up. Wrecker and his booking voice that filled the close confines of the Marauder. Omega and her boundless curiosity, her eye misted with unshed tears as she tugs at Echo’s kama. “What about me? What if I asked you to stay?” “Oh, Omega” He crouches, allowing his sister to fling herself to his chest. “I’d love to stay, but I’m needed elsewhere.” Omega hiccups a tiny sound that lances through your heart as you watch the sweet interaction. Echo wasn’t much of a hugger, his lingering belief that no-one would want to touch him manifesting in a deep self-loathing for his physical form. But here was Omega, flushing herself to him with complete disregard for his cybernetics, her warm cheek flush against his earpiece as she quivered with soft sobs. Leaving her was always going to be hard, but she had the Batch to keep her safe, and it wasn’t like this would be forever, his scomp patting the middle of her back as he pulled back. “I’ll see you again someday, I promise.” “Both of you?” He looks from Omega to you, his heart fluttering wildly at the idea of taking you with him, but that - that would be selfish of him. The batch needed a medic, a good one, and woe betide if he stole you away from them. “She’s not --” “Of course we will.” You cut him off before he can finish, the firm statement coming out of left field. “Mesh’la --” Again you cut him off, the glimmer in your eyes mischievous as you place your hands to your hips. “Someone’s got to run upkeep on your cybernetics, might as well be me.” He pushes back the urge to tell you Rex could help him with that, that he’s sure there’s someone in the resistance that’s familiar enough with cybernetics to run any maintenance he needs. You hated when other people tinkered with his prosthetics, hated when Tech tried to bluster his way through a supposed ‘update’ to his synthetic nerves. Mainly because Tech treated him more like a machine, his methods sparking flares of pain in the former ARC whenever the commando poked his spanner into whatever needed fixing. You hated it even more when it was a stranger that did it, the heated look in your eyes when EZ tried to treat him in the med bay making him all kinds of flustered. “You sure?” “Surer then rain on Kamino.” The mention of his former home causes a flare of homesickness, the palm of his hand ruffling in Omega’s hair as he gives her a smile. “Make sure Tech keeps up with those lessons of yours, and don’t let Phee talk Hunter into any funny business -- okay?” She holds out her hand, pinky first, and he smiles as he wraps his much larger pinky finger around hers. “I promise!” “Atta girl, knew I could count on you.” He watches as she skips toward Hunter, the warm flush of heat that radiates from your body confirming that he’d made the right choice. But had you? He’s got nothing to offer. No home, no stability, and certainly no ability to see in the next day. Kriff, he could be dead tomorrow for all he knew, yet here you where wrapping your arm around his hips as if you where watching your kid leave for a school day, the waver of your lip betraying your emotions as you rested your head to his shoulder. “Thank you.” “For what?” “For coming with me. I -- know it wasn’t an easy choice to make. “You’re right, it wasn’t, but it was the right one.” You might be sad to leave the batch, might even cry about it when you laid your head to your pillow later that night, but in your heart of hearts you knew that your place was with Echo and the growing rebellion, your smile growing as you entwined your fingers with his.

[elfdragon12]

Chapter two is ready to read! Along with two new illustrations!

Hope y'all enjoy!

[diana-bookfairchild]

For @thethreebroomsticksfic's Weasley Week!

until someday is an exploration of a Weasley Family heirloom and what it means to each member who gets it, and how it helps them with various emotions they struggle with.

Read it here!

[edsbacktattoo]

The Tolling Bells - Rated E

“Love Persists. It always will.”

New fic is up! You can find the first chapter right here. Please be sure to read the tags.

In any life. 🧁💐

[eeriecorri]

Time-Travel Fixit

Has spoilers for Bad Batch season 2 finale. Some plot, mostly character stuff.

___

When a group of teenagers assassinated the Chancellor, Obi-Wan had not expected what was to come. The reveal that the Chancellor was a Sith, that the teenagers were all clones of the notorious Jedi Killer, or that all the clones had knowledge of the future so complete that it was almost as if they had already lived it. At least that was what the Council had decided, as the clones’ claims—that they had time traveled after their deaths or roughly two years after the Republic fell and was replaced by a Sith empire— were too unbelievable.

Now, here he stood, watching the clones loading up to be sent wherever they chose to settle. Not surprisingly, none really wished to go with Fett, who had sold them into slavery before they were even born. To Obi-Wan’s surprise a large group had chosen to follow him. They were led by an older teen with a large scar around his left eye. The other clones alternatively called him Cody or Kote, and Obi-Wan was not sure with name the teen preferred. For some reason none of the clones bothered to introduce themselves, leaving Obi-Wan to figure out their preferred form of address on his own.

 There was also a much larger clone named Alpha-17 who insisted on going with him, to ‘keep an eye on that idiot, Skywalker’. Anakin had taken offense at that and now seemed to be pressing any buttons that he could find just to annoy the clone.

He was assisted in this endeavor by a small group of clones who had declared they would stay with him until they could find Commander Tano. Anakin had no idea who this Commander Tano was, but Obi-Wan suspected they were referring to a young Togruta initiate that Plo Koon favored.

 Cody/Kote had apparently noticed something was missing and ran off several minutes ago. It appeared that what was missing was a group of smaller children, as Obi-Wan could see Cody/Kote returning with them. These children were still clearly clones, though they were not identical like the others. Walking beside Cody/Kote was a boy with long hair held out of his face by a bandana. A boy with silver hair followed immediately after. Behind the silver haired boy was a smaller boy wearing goggles and a strange harness that looked to Obi-Wan like something parents on Coruscant would place on their rowdy toddlers to keep them from wandering off. Actually, Obi-Wan could see there was a leash on the back of the harness that was being held by the smallest of the group, a young blond. Bringing up the rear of the group was a large boy built more like Alpha-17 than the other clones. He towered over the small blond and the boy with the goggles.

 “Sorry, General,” Cody/Kote said, “these five got lost in the shuffle.”

“I still say we should be fine on our own,” the silver haired boy grumbled.

Cody/Kote snorted. “We’ll talk about that when you’re not cadet sized.”

Obi-Wan dearly hoped these children hadn’t planned on being released on the galaxy unsupervised. After the assassination of the Chancellor, the Senate was adamant that the clones, who were all highly trained fighters, be monitored at all times. On their own they could be easily scooped up by the Hutts or any other parties that might be interested in acquiring a readymade army.

“Excuse me,” the smallest of the group spoke up. “Tech needs a parachute if he’s going to ride in the transport.”

The boy with the goggles sighed. “We’ve talked about this Omega.”

“No,” Omega stomped his—a nudge from the force, oh, her —foot. “Last time we were up high, you fell. You need a parachute.”

“You know we could just give Tech a jetpack,” Cody/Kote suggested.

“I have not been trained to operate a jetpack properly,” Tech said.

“You mean the one time you tried, you flew into a wall and gave yourself a concussion,” the large boy said.

“And the Kaminoans didn’t want to risk you giving yourself brain damage, so they canceled all your future lessons,” the silver haired boy said.  

“I was four,” Tech protested.

“If I may,” Obi-Wan broke in, “what seems to be the issue?”

Omega stared up at him with large brown eyes, glistening with unshed tears. “Tech died.”

Ah, this was the time-travel thing. Many of the clones had vivid memories of their future deaths. And in even more cases, memories of losing their brothers.

“Well, we will all die eventually,” Tech pointed out.

“We could have saved you if you gave us more time!”

“We did not have more time. We all would have fallen, and that was not an acceptable outcome.”

“Your dying was not an acceptable outcome!”

“I am aware that you are not dealing well with my demise, but there are limits to what I can do to allay your concerns. This leash is already pushing those limits,” Tech said, picking at the harness with annoyance.

“Not that the leash would stop him going over the edge. If anything, it would just drag you over too,” the silver haired boy pointed out.

“Crosshair!” the boy with the bandana scolded.

Omega looked horrified at this new information. She looked down at her own small frame, then up at Tech who stood at least six inches taller than her. She turned to the giant clone standing behind her.

“Then Wrecker will hold the leash. He’s strong enough to pull you back if you fall,” Omega declared, handing the leash to Wrecker. Wrecker accepted the leash with a solemn nod. He attached the leash to his belt before pulling Tech to him, wrapping an arm around him to hold him tightly to his side.

“You’re stuck with me, little brother,” Wrecker said gruffly.

Tech sighed but allowed it.

Omega tugged on Wrecker’s free hand until he dipped down to scoop her up and place her on his shoulder.

The boy with the bandana sighed. “Sorry about that. We don’t have as much experience as the others when it comes to losing a brother. To us it was only a few months ago. Since getting him back, we’re a little overprotective.”

“We understand, Hunter.” Cody/Kote patted the boy on the shoulder.

“Oh!” Omega gasped. “I see Echo! Echo, over here!”

A pair of clones approached, one with a fresh tattoo of a five on his forehead, the other with a dark gray handprint on his chest plate. Obi-Wan recognized them both as being part of the strike team that assassinated the Chancellor.

“Hey, kid,” Echo said. Then his eyes slid to Tech who was still held tightly to Wrecker’s side, and his smile widened. “Tech.”

“What? Do the rest of us not warrant a greeting?” Crosshair asked.

“I just saw you a few weeks ago. Haven’t seen Tech in months,” Echo replied.

“We couldn’t find you!” Omega said.

“It’s been longer than a few months since I last saw my old squad. Plus, Fives and I had business on Coruscant,” Echo said with a grin, placing his hand on Fives shoulder.

“Aww, why didn’t you take us with you to kill the emperor?” Wrecker asked.

“Sorry, only clones who have been through their final growth spurt made the cut,” Fives said.

“I’m as tall as you,” Wrecker pointed out.

“Try telling that to someone who doesn’t know how tall you end up getting,” Echo laughed.

“Can I walk without this leash now?” Tech asked.

“When there aren’t any ledges for you to fall off,” Hunter said. 

[hinnyfied]

Birthdays

For @thethreebroomsticksficfest microfic event - A Very Harry Birthday

***

Harry is six. He hates birthdays. He hates the extra pang of loneliness that accompanies his own in contrast with the lavish gifts and extra love that’s heaped upon everyone else. When Harry lays his head down the evening before he turns seven, he hates the way he misses his faceless parents more than ever.

Harry is sixteen. He likes birthdays. He likes the warmth of Mrs. Weasley’s cooking, extra special for him. He likes picking out gifts for Ron and Hermione for their birthdays and watching their faces light up when they open them.

Harry is twenty-six. He loves birthdays. He loves going to the Burrow with the ever-expanding Weasley family and watching Molly and Arthur being surrounded by a sea of children and grandchildren as they blow out their candles. He loves making breakfast in bed for Ginny on her birthday.

Harry loves looking on in wonder as his children demolish their first birthday cakes, ones he got up extra early to make from scratch, a smile spread across his face all the while.