Hunter - Blog Posts
Echo leaving was Omega's first familiar loss in the series. She's lost her home and seen many clones die, but this is the first time that someone in her squad has left. She has no idea how to process this loss and doesn't understand when Hunter, Wrecker, and especially Tech don't react with the same confusion and anger that she does. They've all lost someone important to them, probably more times than they would like to keep count.
Omega doesn't see that, she sees a cold front, the product of abandonment.
Omega feels like Echo abandoned her, and Tech feels like Crosshair abandoned him.
That's why their conversation in episode 9 is so important. During the first season we, the viewers, see Tech blow up on Cross when they're escaping Kamino, but it is never mentioned again, whatever harbored resentment he may have is sidelined, and it is possible that Omega never saw how much it hurt him. And now with Echo leaving, she does see, that one mention of Crosshair, the pain in his eyes, she can now see that she is more like him that she thought, he's just used to being abandoned.
And now with recent episodes, in season 3, we'll have a chance to see another parallel. Omega never meant to abandon her family, she was taken and she'll most likely be brainwashed (or it will be attempted). Similarly Crosshair didn't have a choice when he was taken. He'll have to face the knowledge that Tech died coming to save him. That he died protecting Omega.
They'll both be a ressentful towards one another, rightfully. But in the end they'll realize that it was Tech's decision. That he sacrificed himself so that they could survive.
And Omega will realize that she's more like Crosshair than she thought. He's just used to being abandoned.
Okay but on the upside, Crosshair and Omega bonding time?
Crosshair and Tech Twins Headcanon
They're both farsighted. Though Tech uses his goggles for his detail work, and Crosshair uses it to his advantage as a sharpshooter.
Before they earned their names Crosshair was 04 (oh-four) to Tech and Tech was Threesie.
Crosshair and Tech are both equally adept at split second calculations and memorizations. Tech uses them for his flying and Crosshair uses it for trick shots.
Tech is almost as good a shot as Crosshair. Crosshair trained him.
Crosshair can memorize anything if he puts his mind to it, he just doesn't have the patience usually.
When Crosshair chose the Empire, it took Tech weeks for him to speak more than absolutely necessary.
He's more cynical than he was before.
Wrecker and Hunter swore left and right that the two of them had some sort of telepathic link. Tech never believed in it, Crosshair did when Tech was the only one who understood him.
They're the exact same height.
They felt a connection even worlds apart.
Going through old yharnam and I didn't expected to be THAT difficult, there was a literally other hunter that pops through a staircase and try attacking me when I was on the ladder, and then I reach up to the roof with the guy with the machine gun, and I watched a jacksepticeye video and he had this trick of constant shooting at the guy and so I tried it.....and the fucker hadn't fallen at all, and I died! Is there any other way that you can defeat the guy, cause I know he is going to be annoying,
Now my death count on this game is 12😩 and literally most of the deaths are from crows and dogs,
I forgot to repost this????
You should draw…. Nsh and hunter at Taco Bell/ordering Taco Bell
@industrial---complex @ramicorn
since we are mutuals could i like request you do hunter and bypass the rules of the majority vote ? 👉👈
Lol, I’ll get to them eventually, for now here’s a little doodle :)
who did this
who put meghan thee fucking stallion on a character playlist for TECH of all people 😭
• MingHao and Hunter icons ! 🎉
• like or reblog if you save.
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.
hello! this is my first time sending any sort of request so i hope this is the right place! i absolutely love your writing and was wondering if you could write Hunter x a plus sized f reader (more specifically a reader struggling with loving her body). maybe sfw with a hint of suggestiveness? thank you!! <3
“All the parts of you”
Hunter x Plus-Sized Fem!Reader
⸻
You stared at your reflection in the mirror of the Marauder’s fresher, scowling as you tugged at your shirt. It clung to the softest parts of you. The waistband of your pants had folded over—again—and if you stood a certain way, your stomach looked—
“Like a whole moon orbiting around me,” you muttered under your breath, smirking bitterly. “Galactic gravitational pull and all.”
It was your thing, after all. Make the joke before anyone else could. Keep it light. Pretend you didn’t care. Pretend you didn’t hurt.
You didn’t hear Hunter step in.
“You always talk about yourself like that when you think no one’s listening?”
Your heart skipped, stomach sinking faster than gravity.
You turned. “Well, yeah. Someone’s gotta say it. Might as well be me before someone beats me to the punchline.”
He didn’t laugh. Not even a twitch of a smirk.
“Don’t do that,” he said, voice low and steady.
You raised an eyebrow, trying to brush past him. “It’s just a joke, Sarge.”
His hand came up, gentle but firm, stopping you before you could flee.
“It’s not funny,” he said. “Not to me.”
You tried to shrug it off, even as your throat tightened. “Relax. I’m not fishing for compliments. I’m just realistic, you know? Built like a bantha in body armor. It’s fine.”
He blinked slowly. Once.
Then, “Don’t say that about my girl.”
Your breath caught. “I’m not—”
“You are,” he interrupted. “I haven’t said it yet, but you are.”
Your protest fizzled somewhere in your chest.
He stepped closer, and now his hand was on your waist—your soft waist, the one you avoided letting anyone touch—like it belonged there.
“Do you know how hard it is for me to keep my hands off you when you wear that shirt?”
You blinked. “You mean the shirt that makes me look like a wrapped ration pack?”
“I mean the shirt that hugs you in all the right places,” he murmured, sliding his hand along the curve of your hip like it was art. “The one that reminds me exactly how good you’d feel in my arms. Or on my lap. Or under me.”
Your cheeks burned. “Hunter…”
“I love how you look,” he said. “But more than that, I love you. All the parts you try to cover. All the jokes you use to hide the things you’re still learning to live with.”
His tone was quiet. Serious.
“You don’t need to pretend with me.”
Your throat ached. Your hands twitched at your sides like they didn’t know whether to cover your face or grab his.
“I don’t know how to believe you,” you admitted softly.
“That’s okay,” he said. “Let me believe it for both of us until you can.”
You stared at him, all your words gone, and he kissed you—slow, reverent, grounding.
And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like something to fix.
You felt like someone wanted.
⸻
Later that night, you made another joke about needing “extra rations to fuel all this real estate,” and he didn’t hesitate.
He pulled you flush against him, kissed your neck, and growled in your ear:
“I hope you’ve got extra, sweetheart. I plan to spend all night exploring every damn inch of you.”
⸻
A/N - kind self inserted here, I’m a bigger girl and tend to make the jokes before anyone else can, not that most do
Hi! I don’t know if you’re doing requests, if not ignore this. I love your writing! My request would be bad batch x Jedi!reader( can be gen) where it’s their reaction to you having to save them and do a bunch of cool badass force moves to get to them. 🩷
Absolutely— I will gladly take any request x
I hope you enjoy this, I kinda went off on my own little world at the end.
⸻
Title: “About Time You Showed Up”
Bad batch x Jedi!Reader
The op was supposed to be simple: get in, grab the intel, get out.
So naturally, it was a disaster by hour two.
The Bad Batch was cornered inside a decrepit refinery complex, hunkered behind a wall of overturned crates as blaster fire lit up the air. Explosions cracked the walls. Wrecker was bleeding. Tech’s datapad was sparking. Crosshair was out of ammo.
Hunter muttered a curse. “We need backup. Now.”
Crosshair scoffed. “You mean the Jedi?”
“Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing,” Tech said, wincing as he adjusted his shattered goggles. “They are highly efficient warriors, after all.”
“Well, ours is late,” Echo gritted, shielding Wrecker with a dented durasteel panel. “And I don’t think those guys outside are going to politely wait for her.”
Then, like the Force heard them bickering—
The air dropped a few degrees.
The wind shifted.
And then the main door of the facility exploded inward—not from detonite or a charge, but like something had pushed it in with terrifying, silent power.
Smoke billowed.
And out of it stepped you.
Cloak trailing behind you, lightsaber already humming in your hand, you walked into the chaos like you were late to a dinner party—not a battlefield.
“Sorry I’m late,” you said, lifting your hand.
Three enemy droids shot into the air like ragdolls, slammed into a pipe overhead, and sparked out. “Had a bit of traffic.”
Wrecker blinked. “That… was awesome.”
Hunter stared as you leapt forward, deflecting blaster bolts without looking. “Remind me never to complain about Jedi again.”
You moved like a shadow. One second you were blocking a shot, the next you were throwing your saber, calling it back mid-spin, flipping off a wall, and dragging a pair of guards toward each other with the Force so they knocked heads and dropped.
“Show off,” Crosshair muttered, but there was something weirdly close to admiration in his tone.
“Excuse me?” you called as you force-pulled a turret off its base and crushed it into a ball. “You want to do this next time, sharpshooter?”
“I mean… I wouldn’t mind the view,” Crosshair said under his breath.
Tech, oddly calm amid the chaos, adjusted his goggles with a broken-off screw. “Fascinating. You manipulated five separate Force events within a span of—”
“I’ll send you a diagram later!” you called.
You sliced the control panel, opened the bulkhead, and gestured. “Come on, boys. I’m not babysitting this op all day.”
Hunter helped Wrecker to his feet. “That was… intense.”
Echo gave you a half-grin. “We’d be dead if you hadn’t shown.”
“You would be,” you said smugly. “Good thing I like you.”
“Is that a Jedi flirting?” Crosshair drawled. “Should I be worried about a lightsaber through my chest or a date?”
You raised a brow. “Depends. Are you always this cocky, or is it the blood loss talking?”
Crosshair smirked. “You tell me.”
As the team jogged after you, Tech whispered to Echo, “I believe this is what organic beings refer to as ‘tension.’”
“You think?” Echo grinned, ducking blaster fire as you launched an enemy into a vat of molten ore with a flick of your hand.
“Let’s save the flirty quips for after we’re not being shot at,” Hunter grumbled—but he wasn’t exactly not smiling.
You stopped mid-run, looked over your shoulder, and grinned. “Then pick up the pace, boys. You can flirt after we survive.”
⸻
The air inside the safehouse was still hazy from Wrecker’s attempt at cooking, and someone had definitely patched Crosshair’s blaster wound with duct tape and attitude.
But everyone was alive. And that was saying something.
You were seated cross-legged on a crate, calmly cleaning your lightsaber with the kind of peace only someone who had deflected about 200 blaster bolts could muster. The Force hummed around you, quiet but alert.
Hunter dropped onto the floor nearby, arms resting on his knees. “You always fight like that?”
You looked up, raising a brow. “Like what?”
“Like gravity doesn’t apply to you and you’re mad at every object in a ten-meter radius.”
You grinned. “Only when people I care about are in trouble.”
Crosshair, lounging against the wall with his arms crossed, scoffed. “So, you do care.”
“Don’t get excited,” you teased. “I’d do the same for my hydrospanner.”
Wrecker burst out laughing while Crosshair smirked like he’d just been promoted.
Echo, who was calmly running diagnostics on his arm, chimed in: “I don’t know. I think you’ve got favorites.”
You shrugged. “Maybe.”
Tech looked up from where he was scanning his datapad, eyes sharp behind his cracked goggles. “You know, from a technical standpoint, some of your techniques—particularly the telekinetic manipulation mid-flight—could be extremely beneficial in combat.”
You tilted your head. “Are you saying you want to train with me, Tech?”
He cleared his throat. “For research purposes, of course.”
Echo leaned back against a support beam. “I wouldn’t mind a session or two either. Might pick up a move or two that doesn’t involve being thrown across a battlefield.”
“I think I should go first,” Hunter said mildly. “Since I’m the one who has to keep all of you alive.”
Wrecker raised a hand. “Hey, I want to train with the Jedi too!”
You looked around at all of them. “Let me guess… you all want to train now?”
“Better than watching Crosshair try to flirt,” Echo muttered.
“I don’t flirt,” Crosshair said flatly.
“You stared at their hands for five minutes straight,” Hunter pointed out.
Crosshair didn’t deny it. “They’ve got good saber grip. It’s tactical.”
You smirked and slowly stood, clipping your saber back to your belt. “Alright. We’ll start tomorrow. One at a time. You’ll get a feel for the Force, and I’ll see who whines the least when they land flat on their back.”
“I never whine,” Crosshair muttered.
“Good,” you said with a wicked grin. “You’ll be first.”
Wrecker fist-pumped. Tech adjusted his datapad like it was a test. Echo and Hunter shared a look that said, We’re all going to die.
You stretched your arms and turned to leave.
“Oh,” you added over your shoulder. “And if you’re all so eager to get closer to the Force… don’t forget it can read minds.”
Five men froze. Completely.
You didn’t have to look to know exactly which ones had immediately panicked.
Yeah. You were going to have fun with this.
⸻
You stood in the middle of the field, arms crossed, calm as ever.
The Bad Batch lined up in front of you like misbehaving cadets at a very weird summer camp. Wrecker was bouncing on his heels. Crosshair looked bored already. Echo was trying to focus. Tech was holding a notebook. And Hunter—Hunter was watching you like he was trying to anticipate your every move. Again.
“Alright,” you said, voice light. “Rule number one: you are not Force-sensitive. So stop trying to feel it. You’ll just give yourself a migraine.”
Tech quietly lowered his fingers from his temple and put his notebook away.
“Instead,” you continued, pacing in front of them like an instructor, “we’re going to focus on reflexes, awareness, and how not to swing a lightsaber into your own leg.”
Wrecker raised his hand. “Wait—do we get lightsabers?”
You blinked. “Do you want to lose an arm?”
Wrecker grinned. “Kinda depends on the story I can tell after.”
Echo muttered, “Maker help us.”
You tossed a training baton at Crosshair, who caught it one-handed with zero enthusiasm.
“Let’s see how you handle this, sharpshooter,” you said, smirking. “Try to block me.”
Crosshair rolled his eyes. “I don’t need a magic trick to win a duel.”
You raised your training blade. “That’s cute. Try to last thirty seconds.”
What followed was the most stubborn, cocky, and utterly chaotic sparring session you had ever experienced.
Crosshair lasted eighteen seconds. He blamed the sun.
Hunter was fast, perceptive, and nearly knocked you off your feet once, but then got distracted when you smiled at him. He never admitted it.
Echo was calculated but got annoyed when you used a Force push to trip him mid-roll. “Not fair,” he growled, flat on his back.
“I told you I’d use it,” you shrugged.
Tech kept trying to guess your next move based on logic. Unfortunately, you were using the Force. And chaos.
“I have a theory,” he said, face-down in the grass.
“I’m sure you do.”
Then came Wrecker.
“Alright,” he said, grinning like a kid about to break a toy, “gimme your best shot.”
You dodged his first three swings. The fourth came very close.
“Easy, big guy,” you huffed, ducking under his arm. “This is training, not deathmatch—”
“Oops!” Wrecker slipped on a rock, stumbled forward, and you had to Force-jump to avoid being pancaked. You landed behind him, breathing hard.
“That was… impressive,” you managed.
“Did I pass?” he asked, hopeful.
“Pass? You almost Force-chucked me into next week!”
“Cool.”
Later, as the group collapsed in a sweaty, bruised heap under a tree, you sat cross-legged nearby, sipping from a canteen.
“I’ll admit,” you said with a sly grin, “you’re all… slightly less hopeless than I expected.”
“High praise,” Echo muttered.
Crosshair lay back, arms behind his head. “So when’s the advanced class?”
You tossed a pebble at his head. “Never.”
Tech looked up from scribbling notes. “I would still like to record your movement patterns. Possibly… for private analysis.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Private?”
Hunter cleared his throat, cutting in fast. “I’d be up for a meditation session. Just us.”
You blinked. “You meditate?”
“I do now.”
Wrecker sat up. “Wait, I want to meditate too!”
“No, you don’t,” Echo sighed.
You lay back in the grass beside them, arms tucked under your head, eyes half-closed. “You know… for a bunch of non-sensitive, chaos-wielding commandos… you’re not so bad.”
Crosshair, eyes closed, smirked. “Careful, Jedi. Keep talking like that, and we might start thinking you like us.”
You smirked back. “I do like you. I just like kicking your asses more.”
“Uncalculated Variables”
Tech x Jedi!Reader
Summary: Clone Wars-era op with the Bad Batch. Jedi reader + Quinlan Vos bestie assisting the op.
⸻
If Tech had known he’d be spending the mission with two unorthodox Jedi, he might have requested recalibration for his brain implant.
Vos was already a variable he’d accounted for—reckless, talented, infuriatingly good, unpredictable. But you?
You were something else entirely.
You strolled off the gunship like the war was a camping trip, a lightsaber strapped to your hip and a ridiculous grin on your face as you greeted Wrecker with a high five mid-jump.
“Miss me, big guy?”
Wrecker beamed. “You always make it more fun!”
Vos followed close behind, flipping a thermal detonator in one hand like it was a toy. “They let you off Coruscant without me? I’m hurt.”
You glanced over your shoulder. “Please. You’d just get jealous when I steal all the glory.”
Vos grinned. “You wish.”
Tech stared. “I fail to see how this level of casualness is appropriate for a battlefield.”
You turned to him with a slow smile. “Ah, you must be Tech.”
He straightened instinctively. “Yes. You are correct.”
You offered a hand—not stiff or formal, but open, easy. There was mischief in your eyes. “I’ve read your file. You’re the one with the brains and the dry commentary.”
He hesitated before taking your hand. “That is… not inaccurate.”
You leaned in, voice low. “I like brains.”
He blinked. “As do most species. It is vital for survival.”
Vos coughed loudly behind you—possibly to hide a laugh.
Wrecker elbowed Hunter. “I like this Jedi.”
Tech ignored them, adjusting his goggles. “We are operating on a strict schedule. I’d prefer we keep distractions—”
“Lighten up, Tech,” you teased, falling into step beside him. “If you smiled any less, we’d have to start checking for signs of carbon freezing.”
“I assure you, I am functioning within optimal emotional parameters.”
You hummed thoughtfully. “Sounds lonely.”
He shot you a side glance, but your tone was playful, not unkind.
“I don’t understand you,” he muttered.
You grinned. “Most don’t. That’s half the fun.”
⸻
Later, during recon, Vos and Wrecker were off chasing a “weird energy reading,” Crosshair was perched up somewhere, and Hunter had gone ahead to secure the route. That left you and Tech crouched behind cover, scanning a Separatist outpost through the macrobinoculars.
“Y’know,” you said casually, “if you ever wanted to break all your rules and do something reckless, I’m very available.”
Tech frowned. “I don’t require your availability. This mission is already well underway.”
You stifled a laugh. “Not what I meant.”
He blinked, confused. “Was it a code? I didn’t detect one.”
You turned to him, resting your chin on your hand. “You’re cute when you’re confused.”
His ears turned slightly pink.
“I’m not confused,” he replied quickly. “Merely… recalibrating.”
You laughed again, soft and warm. “You’re fun, Tech. Even if you don’t know it.”
He didn’t reply. Just stared out at the outpost, glasses slightly fogged. Processing. Buffering.
You winked as you stood. “Come on, Brain Boy. Let’s go break some droids.”
And behind you, Tech mumbled—
“…I don’t understand you.”
But oh, he wanted to.
⸻
“Move your pretty brain, Tech!”
Your shout cut through the blaster fire as you Force-shoved a B1 battle droid clean off the ridge. The droid hit the canyon wall with a clang before falling into a satisfying silence.
Tech barely managed to duck behind the rock as two more shots ricocheted past his goggles.
“I’m attempting to calculate the terrain advantages, not—”
You dropped beside him, lightsaber humming with heat. “Flirt later, calculate less. We’re getting spicy out here.”
“I am not flirting—”
“You will be,” you said sweetly, spinning to deflect a bolt. “Just haven’t hit the right button yet.”
“Force help me,” Crosshair muttered over comms. “I’m in hell.”
Vos cackled somewhere on the ridge. “This is why I bring her on ops.”
You winked in Tech’s direction. “Besides, I like it when smart boys get flustered.”
“I am not—” he started, only to cut himself off when you leapt over the boulder and ran directly into blaster fire.
“Wait—don’t—!”
But you were already slicing through droids, movements chaotic and fluid. A little wild, a little beautiful. Vos followed behind you with a war cry and a detonator.
“Stop being reckless in combat!” Tech snapped, ducking as sparks flew overhead.
Wrecker hollered from behind cover. “She’s so cool, right?!”
Tech was still reeling from how your braid moved like a whip when you spun, when a Super Battle Droid on the ridge zeroed in on his location.
He didn’t see it. But you did.
“Tech!”
You moved fast—a leap, a slide down the gravel slope, and then a blinding crack of energy as you shoved him to the ground and blocked the bolt meant for his chest with your saber.
The shockwave sent you both tumbling behind a ledge.
For a second, there was only the buzz of his ears and the hum of your saber still hot in the air.
You looked down at him—arms braced on either side of his shoulders, breathing hard, body pressed against his.
His goggles were crooked. His heart was absolutely not functioning in optimal parameters.
“You good?” you asked, voice low.
“I…” Tech swallowed. “Yes. Thanks to you.”
You leaned a little closer. “That’s two times I’ve saved your life this week. You might owe me.”
“I… suppose I do.”
You smiled. “We’ll figure out the payment plan later.”
Vos dropped beside you, covered in soot and grinning. “I saw that. That was hot. I’d kiss you for that save.”
“Why are they like this,” the sniper muttered and then glanced over to Tech. “Can’t believe I’m third-wheeling a courtship in the middle of a kriffing warzone.”
“Fourth-wheeling,” Vos corrected. “I’m emotionally invested.”
You grinned as you helped Tech up. “Don’t worry, brain boy. They’re only teasing”
You patted his chest, then turned back toward the canyon, saber blazing back to life.
“We’ll talk later. Right now? Droids first. Feelings… maybe after explosives.”
And then you were off again, a whirlwind of Force and fire.
Tech stood frozen, fingers twitching at his belt.
Vos clapped him on the back. “Welcome to the mess, genius.”
⸻
You were sitting cross-legged on the Marauder’s ramp, tossing pebbles at Wrecker’s helmet while he tried to balance a crate on one hand.
Vos was beside you, chewing on dried fruit like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. He elbowed you after a particularly impressive throw.
“You ever gonna tell Tech you’re into him?” Vos asked, mouth half-full.
You smirked. “And ruin the comedy of him trying to math his way through courtship? No thanks.”
Wrecker laughed. “He is actin’ weird lately. Said I was being ‘emotionally invasive’ for askin’ if he liked you!”
Vos grinned. “He’s got it bad.”
“And I am loving it,” you replied, spinning a pebble in your fingers. “Every time I flirt, he acts like I just challenged his understanding of gravity.”
Right on cue, Tech walked down the ramp, datapad clutched in hand, goggles slightly askew. He stopped in front of you, cleared his throat.
“I… performed a series of diagnostics regarding interpersonal compatibility,” he said, utterly serious. “According to twenty-seven factors—including personality, adaptability, combat style, and dietary preferences—we are a statistically promising match.”
Vos dropped his fruit.
You blinked. “Did you just… scientifically determine that we should date?”
“I—well—yes,” Tech said. “But only if you’re interested. Which—based on your heart rate and verbal cues—I suspect you might be.”
Vos exploded into laughter, falling back on the ramp.
“Oh my Maker,” he wheezed. “You absolute nerd.”
You grinned at Tech. “That might be the most romantic math I’ve ever heard.”
Tech pushed his glasses up. “I thought you’d appreciate the data.”
“I do,” you said, standing and brushing your hands off. “But next time, try leading with something like: ‘I think you’re beautiful and I’d like to kiss you.’”
Tech turned crimson. “I—yes. Noted.”
“Relax,” you teased, stepping closer. “I’m not gonna kiss you.”
His expression fell a little.
“Yet,” you added.
From behind the crates, Crosshair exhaled loudly. “Maker, just kiss already or go back to sexually tense banter. This is painful.”
You turned. “Aw, Cross. You jealous you’re not the one I’m throwing pebbles at?”
He scowled. “I’d rather be shot.”
Vos stood and slung an arm around your shoulders. “Honestly, same.”
You nudged him. “You’re just mad you’re not the prettiest Jedi in the room anymore.”
Vos gasped dramatically. “Rude. And false.”
Tech, meanwhile, was still buffering.
“I may need to recalibrate my approach,” he murmured, mostly to himself.
“Or,” you said, tapping his datapad, “you could just ask me to spend time with you. No variables required.”
He paused, then looked up at you, eyes suddenly very soft.
“…Would you like to accompany me on a walk through the canyon ridge at 1900 hours? Statistically, it would be—”
You leaned in, smirking. “Careful, Tech. That almost sounded like a date.”
He adjusted his goggles. “I was… hoping it would be.”
Vos made a gagging noise. Crosshair muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “nerds.”
And you?
You just smiled.
⸻
1900 hours hit, and you were waiting by the canyon overlook, robes loose and windswept, arms crossed like you hadn’t just spent twenty minutes trying to decide if you looked “dateable.”
You sensed him before you saw him—Tech’s unique mental frequency, all angles and tension and humming data flow. He approached precisely on time, goggles slightly askew, holding… a field scanner?
“Is that for scanning terrain,” you asked, grinning, “or just a really dramatic way to say you’re nervous?”
“I—” Tech adjusted his grip. “It is a tool for environmental analysis and—possibly—also distraction.”
You snorted. “So yes.”
The two of you walked along the ridge trail, the orange twilight casting soft shadows on the canyon walls. Silence settled, not uncomfortable, just… charged. Like the pause before a storm—or a kiss.
“So,” you said finally, “have you been practicing your flirting?”
Tech looked over, hesitant. “I did… research.”
“Oh no.”
He cleared his throat. “Your presence activates all of my… neurological functions.”
You blinked. “That… was almost sexy.”
“Almost?”
“You lost me at neurological.”
Tech looked disappointed. You reached over, brushing your fingers over his arm. “Don’t worry, I like the weird.”
“I am attempting,” he said, more softly this time, “to understand how to… express what I feel.”
You tilted your head. “And what do you feel?”
He turned toward you fully now. “I feel that your presence both stabilizes and disorients me. That your actions on the battlefield—reckless though they are—captivate me. That your voice lingers in my thoughts long after transmission ends. And that when you saved my life… I was afraid, not of death, but of losing the chance to tell you any of this.”
Your breath caught.
“…Tech,” you said, gently.
“I am aware,” he rushed to add, “that emotions are complex, and Jedi traditionally—”
You stepped forward and kissed him.
It wasn’t long or intense, just a warm press of lips. Steady. Sure.
When you pulled back, his goggles were fogged.
“Shutting up works too,” you whispered.
From somewhere nearby, a stick snapped.
You both turned just in time to hear Vos swear and fall directly out of a bush.
“I WASN’T SPYING,” he yelled.
“Maker above—” Tech muttered.
Crosshair’s voice crackled over the comm: “I told him you’d hear his dumbass breathing.”
Wrecker’s voice came next: “I think it’s sweet! Tech’s got a girlfriend!”
Vos was on his feet, brushing himself off. “Sorry—carry on. Proud of you, Tech. Didn’t think you had it in you.”
You groaned. “I am going to murder all of you.”
Tech looked dazed.
“Can we… do that again?” he asked quietly.
You smiled, tugging him close. “Yeah. This time with less audience.”
Title: Good Looking
Hunter x Reader
⸻
The cantina flickered with low, golden light. One of those places where time didn’t move right—where music played like a memory, and everyone spoke a little softer after dark.
You sat on the edge of a cracked booth, legs stretched, nursing a cheap drink you weren’t really drinking. Your armor was off, your hair a mess, and there was still grime on your hands from the skirmish earlier that day. You should’ve been back at the ship, cleaning up or passing out. But you weren’t.
Because he was still here.
Hunter leaned against the bar, arms crossed, talking quietly to the bartender. His bandana was off for once, letting those wild curls fall free around his face. He looked tired—always did—but he still stood like he carried the weight of everyone else’s safety before his own. That kind of burden was its own kind of beauty.
You didn’t realize you were staring until he turned and caught you.
He didn’t look away.
Neither did you.
Eventually, he walked over. Sat across from you without asking, sliding into the cracked booth like it had always been meant for two.
“You okay?” he asked.
You shrugged. “Still got all my limbs.”
He smirked. “That’s a start.”
You studied him under the flickering cantina lights. He was always so composed in battle, so sharp, so focused. But like this, up close and quiet, there was something softer behind his eyes. Something a little tired. A little lonely.
“You’re always looking after everyone else,” you said suddenly, voice low. “Who looks after you?”
Hunter blinked, caught off guard by the question. He looked down, then back at you with a small, dry laugh. “You know… I don’t really think about it.”
“You should.”
You reached out and brushed a thumb across his knuckles—just once, just enough.
He didn’t flinch.
“You’re good looking when you’re not pretending to be indestructible,” you murmured. The words slipped out like a secret.
Hunter tilted his head, smile crooked, eyes watching you like he was trying to decide if he was dreaming or if he just hadn’t let himself want this before.
“You’ve been drinking,” he said.
You held his gaze. “A little. But I’d say it sober.”
He leaned forward, forearms on the table, his voice low and gravelly. “Then say it again.”
You felt your breath hitch, just a little.
“You’re good looking, Hunter,” you said. “But I think I like you even more when you let yourself feel.”
A beat passed. Two. He looked down at your hand, still near his. Then he reached for it—gently, carefully, like something fragile in a war-torn world.
“I think I feel too much when I’m around you,” he said. “And that scares me more than battle ever could.”
You didn’t answer. Just let the silence sit between you—heavy, intimate, real.
The music kept playing. The world outside kept spinning. But for now, it was just the two of you, sitting across from each other like the war had paused. Like the night belonged to people who’d been scarred, and tired, and still dared to want something more.
i really just spent a few hours editing this Hunter scene with Hanna instead of Hunter huh
My hands need rest but i don't want to stop drawing lol ;^;
Hunter... U good?
Look who got all tangled up. I am behind on mermay ahahaha... But have some Merfolk Huntlow as a treat.
Couldn't sleep, made more Hunter Doodles