Tbb Echo - Blog Posts

A little love for TBB Echo

I love my pasty boi sm Jesus Christ such a angry little baby

Genderless reader! ...slight angst?? out of all ive written so far it all has to do with getting sleep

Cursing

"Echo?" your voice was quiet, not wanting to wake up any of the batchers. You knew how important sleep was to them, well maybe not Tech but well its Tech.

"Hmm?" a low and quiet hum met your ears as quiet footsteps neared your bunk. They stopped and before you knew it an Echo shaped silhouette came into view. You let out a small happy squeak as he soon joined you in the small bunk.

"The ones on Kamino are bigger" He grumbled face first into the mattress. You took his metal "arm" into your own it was hot on the ship despite the cold endless void of space mere inches away, yet his enhancement was cold. He let out another grumble this time inaudible.

"Why so grumpy?"

"I'm not grumpy....I miss the beds on Kamino" with his other hand he fumbled to remove his chest armor.

"You've mentioned it" a small giggle left you as you began to help him out.

"My old General made sure that we got comfy futons in our barracks" he wiggled free and you tossed the piece to where yells feet were.

"Old General?" Echo hasn't been the type to talk about his past, well nothing to in-depth and from finding out what made him half machine you didn't really want to ask, he was getting better each day and you didn't want to accidently trigger a relapse.

"He was reckless and stupid, but he treated his men well" with that he also threw off his shoulder pads.

"Sounds like someone I know" you giggled beginning to mindlessly poke at the ports on his head.

"yeah you"

"Echo!" you said in a quiet gasp as he had managed to lunch onto your chest snuggling his head into you neck, legs still hanging off the bunk. You began to quietly laugh as his human hand began to tickle at your side, you would be kicking the ceiling if it weren't for Echo's new position pinning them underneath him.

"Shhh you are gonna wake the others" more mumbles came from him but he didn't stop, what a prick.

"I'm already awake" The rough voice of Hunter was heard, oh he was defiantly pissed. "You to go to sleep or I'm leaving you on the next planet we pass" very much pissed

"Sorry!" you squeaked out as Echo himself stopped letting a low chuckle into you neck "asshole" you quietly told him only to receive an arm around you. Quiet snores soon followed, you smiled. Finally you could get some sleep.

"asshole" you quietly giggled out kissing the top of his head before closing you eyes listening to his soft breaths.

Pinterest

sanatorium on Twitter | Star wars characters pictures, Star wars clone wars, Star wars fandom

Oct 26, 2021 - “Omega：HeeheheheheOhhohohohoHehhehHiahiahiahiahia——————!!!”

Saw this on Pinterest 😌

I’m so happy to see my request bring happiness to other Echo lovers 🥰

I personally feel left out as a Latina by the SW franchise. There is a great article about SW giving Latinx characters backgrounds with stereotypes associated with Latinx ppl.

Reading fics of my fav characters makes me feel like I belong in this community! I hope we see more strong women in The Bad Batch!

The following link is to a story written by @zoeykallus who has written a wonderful story about a latine , curvy reader falling in love with Echo, or actually already is and Echo already feeling the exact same for reader. It is just positivity and fluff all over the place and we can all use that. https://zoeykallus.tumblr.com/post/691524199228063744/request-hello-love-ive-been-enjoying-reading

OOOOF THIS ONE IS SO SOFT AND TENDER AND WE LOVE THAT FOR ECHO. Also, I adore Hunter telling him to stop shrinking himself (as someone that probably could use someone telling me that regularly). This is lovely! Thanks for the rec! :)

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

Echo has some pent up tension that needs to be released 😅

Echo with Omega vs. with the rest of the Bad Batch

He deserves some good sleep 💤

He do be sleeping tho

Okay I have a very short and sweet rambling thing that I have to get out of my head:

When Echo first joins he’s not exactly sure how much of his personality he should show. He keeps a bit more to himself, he’s confined himself to a box. He has a list of stories he’s able to tell without too many questions and without anything too close to home threatening the fragile wall he’s built up. He avoids too many late night conversations and won’t drink enough to get any more than slightly buzzed so he doesn’t let any carefully guarded secrets out. He’s not subtle, they all see what he’s doing, but he keeps it up for awhile and they let him have his privacy. It was only a week or two before it started to slip out. It’s a comment egging Wrecker on when the big guy clearly wants to cause a bit of trouble or blow something up unnecessarily. Or the sass he throws right back at Crosshair when the sniper is getting too cocky. Or how he sidles up to Tech and asks “do you want to see how much we can modify the caf pot before it catches fire?” But really. He’s tip toeing. Specifically around his CO. He doesn’t know why, but he just can’t seem to let himself just be. But then, miraculously, there it is. It’s a sarcastic remark he can’t bite back that is aimed directly at Hunter. Hunter, who pauses and looks over at him, careful not to let his expression give him away.

“What did you just say?” Hunter challenges. Now, unfortunately, the whole squad has eyes on him and he’s trying not to panic. Did he overstep? Was Hunter angry at him? He’s frozen as Hunter makes his way over to him, tipping his head a bit and looking him over with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Go ahead. Say it again.” Echo kind of wants to throw up? Run? Anything but stand there in the middle of the ship with everyone watching him and waiting for him to get reprimanded. But who is he if not stubborn? So he does. He says it again. And to his horror, his absolute horror, Hunter smiles.

And it’s the same look Rex always gave him when he was being a little shit and needed to be knocked down a peg. A look so familiar it almost reminds him that when Rex used to give him that look he used to run as fast as he could before the captain could do anything. Because when Rex caught up to him, and oh he always did, he’d have to endure the big brother side of Rex. The side that kept him trapped in a headlock until he tapped out. The side that wrestled him to the ground and tickled him to pieces. The side that lifted him over his shoulder and tossed him into lakes and absolutely destroyed him in pillow fights and never once let him win a wrestling match.

That look, the one that told him he was about to get messed with, was being aimed at him and he didn’t even register it until Hunter went to reach for him and he instinctually took off. It took maybe ten seconds for Hunter to catch him but, in his defense, the ship is small. He does have to endure the same playful punishment from Hunter that he had to from Rex. And he’s, truthfully, kind of happy about it. Yes, Hunter will find new, creative ways to annoy him or get him back for all the sarcastic comments. Hunter will even make sure to double down when he’s too stubborn to admit defeat, convincing the rest of the batch to gang up on Echo with him. But it means he’s falling into rhythms he didn’t know would ever be possible again. It means he still has brothers, after everything. He never holds his tongue again. He throws things, and is loud, and petty, and he gets up to things he knows he shouldn’t. He bickers with Crosshair and helps Wrecker get away with sneaking extra fire power onto the ship, and helps Tech hack things they should leave alone. And he sends his best “I’m totally innocent” smile Hunter’s way when he gets caught (even if Hunter never falls for it). Because he’s comfortable now. And he’s thrilled. And so are all of the batch.

Request

Hello love! I’ve been enjoying reading your work over the past few days ☺️

Would you be able to write an Echo x Latina (brown) mid/plus size reader?

Echo and reader have been friends for a long time (reader is a part of the gang; and everyone sees them as a couple). Yet their insecurities prevent themselves from forming a relationship since they want the “best” for the other.

Somehow they do overcome their insecurities and end up together :)

Hunter is relieved 😅

Another thing I have never done yet 😅 I hope I can do this right for you, let me give it a try, sweetheart :)) You didn't really say if you wanted fluff/nsfw or suggestive. So I stayed fluffy with some soft body contact, hope that's okay.

Echo x Mid/Plus Size Latina Reader - Friends To Lovers

Fluff / Romance / Soft Body Contact

Sugar

"What's that supposed to mean now?"

Echo looked at Wrecker annoyed, he didn't like it when others interfered in his personal affairs.

Wrecker sighed and said, "Well, listen, it's obvious that you two like each other."

Echo waved it off and said, "It doesn't matter, she deserves better than me."

Hunter spoke up from the background, "Stop it Echo, that's nonsense."

Hunter came walking into the main room of the Marauder and looked at his brother reprovingly.

"Stop making yourself so small all the time, you're a great guy, a damn good soldier and an even better person. She likes you, you like her, that's actually pretty simple."

Echo sighed and straightened up.

"I don't know" he said uncertainly "I really do like her immensely and we are good friends, but if I take one more step now I could ruin it all"

The ramp opened, preventing Hunter from giving Echo an answer. Echo's heart almost stopped when he saw you come into the Marauder. You were wearing civi clothes, a breezy summer dress that gently hugged your wonderful curves, not too raunchy, but not entirely innocent either. Your tanned skin glistened a little from the lotion you always used and that he loved to smell.

His gaze wandered along your body for a moment, he loved your curves so much. But he hurriedly broke away, threw you a soft smile and walked past you to the outside. Crosshair was standing outside, he had accompanied you to get a few things. When he saw Echo come out he nodded silently at him.

"Did you get everything?" asked Echo.

"Most of it," Crosshair grumbled.

"Echo."

Your voice tingled under his skin. He turned to you and saw you coming down the ramp to the outside.

"Yes?" he said almost tentatively.

"Can I talk to you in private for a moment?"

He swallowed, his heart pounding in his throat, but he nodded and said, "Of course."

You were nervous, Echo was so incredibly cute and you liked him way too much not to be nervous.

"I've been thinking," you began and your heart wanted to run away from you, it was beating so fast in your chest.

He looked at you intently and his gaze felt like he was crawling into your soul to cuddle with it, Echo always seemed to you like he could just slip inside you and heal all the wounds that had ever existed inside you.

"About what, Mesh'la?" he asked softly.

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, Mesh'la, whenever he called you that you got all warm, you knew what it meant and it was so incredibly flattering and sweet.

"About you and me," you finally said, bolder than you actually felt.

His eyes grew wide.

"Oh... I, did I do something wrong?"

You frowned, wondering why that was the first thing he thought.

"No. I don't know why you think that but-"

"I know I stare at you a lot but I would never presume to approach you inappropriately or-"

You laughed softly and interrupted him, "No, no, no. Echo, what I wanted to say is.... I'm incredibly fond of you, maybe a lot more than I should be.... I don't know... I just wanted to get that off my chest and," you interrupted yourself, shrugging your shoulders helplessly.

"Please say something," you finally said softly.

Echo took a step toward you, his hand wandering to your cheek and gently nuzzling it.

His head came closer and with a soft sigh, leaned his forehead against yours.

Softly, gently, almost whispering he said," I'm crazy about you Sugar, so blown away. For a very long time I've had a crush on you, but we both know I'm different and I always thought.... I always thought you could never love someone like me."

You let out a stuttering breath. You'd always known he liked you, but you hadn't known how much. His confession seemed to take the air out of your lungs and at the same time give your heart wings.

"Echo," you spoke softly, "I want to be more than friends."

His lips came closer, but before they touched yours he asked, "Are you sure about that?"

"Perfectly"

His lips touched yours, warmer and softer than expected, tentative, gently testing, then more intimate, confident and finally demanding.

His tongue opened your lips and began to hunt yours, each velvety collision a firebrand in your neural pathways, a tingling in your belly that spread in warm waves.

As you both broke breathlessly from the kiss, his arm moved around your waist, pulling you even closer to him. His forehead leaned against yours again and he smiled with his eyes closed.

Behind you a clapping sounded and an exclamation that could only be from Wrecker. You obviously had an audience, but for the moment you didn't care, even though you felt heat rising in your cheeks again.

Feeling his arm around your curvy body was a bit of a shock at first, you were never sure if he could desire you, you weren't one of those girls the guys hung up as posters in their bunks, you were a bit roundish. But Echo pressed you so tenderly and lovingly against him that you forgot any self-doubt and could just enjoy the moment.

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

- and lived to tell the tale!!!

Senate Party - Echo Ending

Warnings: Reader gets hit on by a rich asshole. Said asshole tries to insult Echo. You’re not having it.

Link to Part 1

You reached out for the dress you’d gravitated to most. Compared to the others it may have seemed a bit plain, but you just loved the color and the feel of the fabric. 

After putting it on you began to notice some of the more subtle embellishments and beautiful craftsmanship. The neckline that you liked so much was all you thought it would be. You twirled a bit, watching as the flowing fabric twirled just above the ground. You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. 

This one felt right to you. You could move freely, and yet you still felt beautiful. 

With a jolt you realized that the dress was the same color Echo had chosen to embellish his outfit. You found yourself thinking of him more and more lately. You tried to shake any further thoughts from your head. 

With a calming breath and one last look in the mirror, you opened the door.

Keep reading

Thank You @zoeykallus ! So beautifully written 🥹🥹🥹

TBB HCs

Would you be able to write about a beach day? I live in California (with no money 🥴 atm) and the beach is one of my favorite places to go!

I would love to read about the boys finally having rest with their loved ones :)

Thanks!!!!

Oh dear, know how that feels...

Sure, darlin'! Let me give it a try :))

The Bad Batch x Reader - At The Beach

Warning: Partly Suggestive

Hunter

Hunter is an outdoorsman, he loves the sea and the beach, the smell and the sound of the water, the sand under his bare feet.

He has taken precautions, when you go with him to the beach he has drinks and fruit with him, he himself is not really sensitive to the sun, but because of you he actually thought of a parasol just in case.

Most of the time though he is lying around relaxing, preferably with you snuggled up to him. He is used to pure stress, that here is an absolutely welcome time out, which he enjoys only too gladly with you. He feeds you fruits, smiles a lot, is generally very affectionate and much more relaxed than you usually know him, even if he always seems like a calm reasonable guy, this tension of the leader is nevertheless always there, just not here and today on this beach.

He is free of any tension, at least for now. You may have spent the beginning of the day with the others on the beach, but he'll be looking for a secluded corner of the beach with you after a few hours, maybe a lagoon where he'll be all alone with you. Hunter, by the way, is a darn good kisser and he loves to make out, so you might just miss the beautiful sunset.

Echo

Echo is quite withdrawn on the sunny beach. No wonder, since the Citadel he has incredibly pale and sensitive skin, he is always in the shade and thickly creamed, usually he still wears a shirt to be completely safe. Topless or maybe even completely naked like Hunter does sometimes, you won't see him on the beach.

But he likes to go there with you, it's time you both can spend carefree, cuddling, kissing, talking or just silently enjoying each other's presence. Echo likes the beach, it is lively and peaceful at the same time. He loves to admire the sunset with you and sometimes, if you have time and enough energy, the sunrise the next morning.

Wrecker

The boy is so full of energy, he will animate you to swim, play beach volleyball or water polo. He will play and cuddle with you in the water, playfully exchanging little caresses when you are both in the sea.

But he is also very attentive, he makes sure that you are not too long in the sun, he always has an eye on you when you are in the water, no matter how well you can swim. Basically he is attentive, lively and caring, on the beach too.

He also surprises you with a giant ice cream cone with all your favorite flavors and maybe a little over the top garnish.

The times you can spend on the beach are among the most beautiful for him, every memory is burned into his mind and when you see him smile enraptured sometimes, you can assume that he remembers you walking along the beach with a wide happy smile on your face that he loves so much.

Tech

Believe it or not, he is a fantastic swimmer and diver. Part of his workout is mainly related to his back, as he is very tall and slim and has his problems with it. Swimming has always been a very important part of his training, just because of that.

He swims fast, has incredible endurance, and can stay underwater for surprisingly long periods of time without any problems.

Tech loves to dive with you for pearls or generally go exploring underwater. Don't worry if you're unsure, Tech knows what he's doing, he looks out for you and takes your wishes and possible fears into consideration.

The sun does get to him though, unlike most of his brothers his skin is a bit lighter and more sensitive, but he also makes sure to stay in the shade and use sunscreen on the beach himself.

Tech likes to spend time with you on the beach, but not in silence, he loves to tell you about the sea and its inhabitants. You can lean against him and he will tell you all the things he knows while the sun is setting in the sea.

Crosshair

Well, you probably realized it before, but Crosshair won't miss the opportunity to seduce you on the beach. We are talking about our beloved grumpy sniper after all.

He's the type who likes to sit back in the shade with a drink in his hand and let his fingers dance over your bare skin while enjoying the peace and quiet and your closeness.

He's also a good swimmer, almost like Tech, but when he's with you on the beach, he's unlikely to go in the water unless you do. He loves to see you in beach and swimwear, he finds that absolutely gorgeous.

That smirk on his lips is unmistakable, he thinks you're great, thinks you're hot and that's no secret, he shows you that quite openly. Maybe it's the pina coladas or the sun, but on the beach he is somehow especially affectionate.

Be prepared that you will hardly get his hands as well as his lips from your body.

Me if any member of the bad batch dies in season 2:

Everytime I need to fake cry I think about Fives screaming for Echo at the Citadel.

So, I'm rewatching The Clone Wars and.....it is much more depressing the second time around.

"You showed me something today. You're exactly the kind if men I need in the 501st." - Rex ("Rookies")

Um... so this is my first written post ever, but it's a dire situation:

WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT SUPPOSE MEAN RAMPART?!? When Cross told you ha has changed, and you gave him THAT look and whispered "Sure you have..."?!?

People, Cross can still be influenced! He either has his chip or there is smth Rampart knows about those experiments. No wonder this poster looks like it does!

#the bad batch #TBB #STAR WARS #SW TBB #Crosshair #Cross #Omega #Hunter #Echo #Tech #Wrecker #Clone Force 99 #CF99 #star wars the bad batch #the dad batch #clones #bad batch #CT-9901 #CT-9902 #CT-9903 #CT-9904 #Jennifer Corbett #Brad Rau #I am not ready... #the best batch #season finale #the cavalry has arrived

i just really like this

so much

words cant even discribe

gay people going to brunch

Hiya! I absolutely love your writing and always look forward to your posts

I saw that request about the commanders catching you with their helmets on and I was wondering if you could do that but with the bad batch?

Again, love your writing. I hope you have a great day/night!

Hey! Thank you so much—that means a lot to me! 💖

I actually was planning to include the Bad Batch too but wanted to start with just the commanders first.

⸻

HUNTER

You weren’t expecting to get caught.

You were standing in the cockpit, wearing Hunter’s helmet—not for mischief, really, but because you were genuinely curious how he functioned with his enhanced senses dulled. You wanted to know what it was like to see through his eyes. To feel what he felt.

The helmet was heavy. Too heavy.

He walked in mid-thought, and you froze.

Hunter didn’t speak. He just stood there, half in shadow, his brow furrowing slowly like he was processing an entirely new battlefield situation.

You didn’t say anything either. You just… stood there. Helmet on. Stiff-backed. Guilty.

Finally, he stepped forward.

“…That’s mine.”

You took it off and held it out sheepishly. “I wanted to see what you see. It’s filtered. Muffled. How do you live like this?”

Hunter took the helmet from your hands and gave you a long, unreadable look.

“I don’t. I adapt.”

Then he brushed past you—close, deliberate—and you swore his fingers grazed yours just a little longer than necessary.

⸻

WRECKER

“Whoa!”

You heard the booming voice before you could even turn.

You were in the loading bay, helmet pulled low over your face as you tried to figure out how the heck Wrecker even saw through it with one eye. It was like wearing a bucket with a tunnel vision problem.

He charged over with the biggest grin you’d ever seen.

“Look at you! You’re me!”

You pulled the helmet off, grinning. “I don’t know how you walk around with this thing. It’s like being inside a durasteel trash can.”

“I know, right? But it looks great on you!”

He took the helmet back, turning it in his hands, then gave you a wide-eyed look.

“You wanna try my pauldron next?! Or lift something heavy?!”

You laughed. “Maybe next time, big guy.”

Wrecker beamed. “You’re so getting the full Wrecker experience.”

You weren’t sure what that meant, but you were both strangely okay with it.

⸻

TECH

You had only meant to try it on for a second.

But you made the mistake of reading one of his datapads while wearing it. And once the internal HUD booted up? Well, curiosity took over.

Tech returned from the cockpit to find you hunched over in the corner, still wearing his helmet and scanning system diagnostics.

His voice was clipped. “You’re tampering with active interface systems.”

“I’m learning,” you shot back, not looking up.

He blinked, then stepped closer, fingers twitching in that nervous way he did when he wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or horrified.

“You activated my visual overlay filters.”

“I figured out the encryption pattern.”

Now that caught his attention.

He slowly knelt beside you. “How long have you had it on?”

“…Twenty-three minutes?”

He swallowed. “And you’re not… disoriented?”

“Nope. Just slightly overstimulated.”

There was a pause.

Then, quietly: “You may keep it on. Temporarily.”

You turned. “You trust me with your helmet?”

He cleared his throat. “Don’t make it a habit.”

But he was already adjusting the fit at the sides of your head.

⸻

ECHO

Echo did not find it cute.

He found it concerning.

The helmet wasn’t just gear. It was part of his reconstructed identity—a thing he wore not because he wanted to, but because he had to.

So when he saw you on the edge of his bunk, wearing it—your legs swinging slightly, gaze distant—his chest tightened.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice rougher than he meant it to be.

You looked up, startled. “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. I was just… wondering what it’s like. Living with this.”

He stepped forward slowly, kneeling to your eye level. “It’s not something I’d want you to understand.”

You pulled the helmet off, placed it in his hands. “I didn’t think about that.”

He let out a quiet breath, then shook his head. “No. You did. That’s why you’re here thinking about it.”

You gave a soft smile. “I wanted to know you better.”

He swallowed hard. “You already do.”

⸻

CROSSHAIR

You knew exactly what you were doing.

And that was the problem.

You sat in the sniper’s perch in the Marauder, elbow on one knee, head tilted just slightly as you stared down at the deck below—wearing his helmet.

You heard the footstep. The sigh.

“Really?” His voice was lazy, drawled out like he wasn’t fazed, but there was a subtle tension underneath.

You didn’t look at him. “I wanted to see what it was like. Looking down on the rest of the world.”

He chuckled once, dry and sharp. “And? Is it satisfying?”

“No. It’s lonely.”

Crosshair was quiet for a long moment. Then he climbed the ladder halfway, leaned against the edge of the platform.

“Don’t get comfortable in it.”

You turned your head, voice just a little softer. “Why not?”

“Because if you wear it any longer, I might start to like it.”

You handed it back.

But you were both thinking about that line for the rest of the day.

I had a crazy thought today: What if Echo wasn't the only part of the Algorithm? What if the Techno Union had another person (Reader) hooked up at a separate location? They would have both Echo and Reader work together to solve complex strategic problems. What kind of relationship would form between the two, and what would happen after Echo was rescued?

“A Ghost in the Circuit”

Echo x Reader

The first time you heard his voice, it was distorted—filtered through wires, machinery, and pain.

“Who are you?”

You blinked through the sluggish haze of chemical sedation. The light above you flickered, casting your enclosure in sickly green. For a moment, you thought it was another hallucination. The Techno Union’s experimental sedatives had a way of blending reality with memory.

But the voice came again, clearer this time.

“You’re… not one of them.”

“No,” you rasped, throat raw. “And you?”

He paused. Then, quietly, like a truth long buried:

“CT-1409. Echo.”

That name—Echo—stirred something in the recesses of your mind. A ghost of a clone you’d heard rumored to be dead. Lost on the Citadel. But if he was here… then you weren’t alone in this twisted hell.

They Called It the Algorithm.

The Techno Union had no use for your body—just your mind. Your military experience, your understanding of Jedi tactics, your intuition. You’d been captured during a failed mission on Raxus, and while you expected torture or death, you hadn’t expected this: to be strung up like some living datastream, brain siphoned and cross-linked to an interface you didn’t understand.

They called it a miracle of modern war-efficiency. You called it a cage.

And Echo… he was the other half of it.

You weren’t in the same room—your pods were separated—but your minds were connected via the neural interface. Whenever they activated the system, your consciousness merged with his, just enough to collaborate on what they called “Strategic Simulations.” War games. Problem solving. Target prioritization.

You both knew the truth: they were using your combined intellect to predict Republic troop movements. Every algorithm you helped solve, every solution you helped generate, killed people you once called comrades.

“I hate this,” you whispered one day, during a low-activity cycle when the painkillers dulled your tongue. “I hate being part of this.”

A pause. Then his voice—steady but soft.

“So do I. But I think better when you’re here.”

You blinked. “…Thanks?”

“No, I mean it.” There was an awkward silence. “When I thought I was the only one… I was slipping. Couldn’t hold onto myself. But then you came. You reminded me who I am. Even in here.”

You swallowed, chest aching at the vulnerability in his voice.

“You’re not just a number, Echo,” you said. “You’re a person. And I see you.”

He didn’t answer right away.

“I see you too.”

⸻

Over Time, a Bond Formed.

There were days the interface ran endlessly—your minds linked for hours, pressed together in shared thought. You knew when he was angry, when he was calm, when he wanted to scream. You learned the rhythm of his reasoning, the cadence of his sarcasm, the echo of grief.

You shared stories in the dead zones. When the machines weren’t listening.

He told you about the 501st. About Fives. About Rex.

You told him about the Temple, your Master, your reckless flying.

Sometimes, you joked about escaping together. About finding a beach somewhere.

“Too many clones for me to trust the ocean,” he’d mutter. “One tide shift and half of them are trying to build a battalion out of sand.”

You’d laughed, a rusty sound. It felt foreign in your throat.

But that laughter became a kind of resistance. So did your connection.

The Techno Union noticed.

They began separating your sessions. Isolating your minds. Severing the link.

The day they cut the neural tether entirely, Echo’s voice disappeared from your thoughts like a light going out. You screamed against the restraints, powerless.

He was gone.

Days Passed. Then Weeks.

You started talking to yourself. Pretending he could still hear. Whispering plans you’d never execute, memories you weren’t sure were yours anymore.

Your mind began to unravel.

Until one day, the alarm blared.

You jerked awake as the facility shook. Outside your pod, Skakoans ran like ants. The machinery sparked. Your interface glitched.

And in the flicker of emergency lights—

A face.

Metal and flesh. Scarred and beautiful.

“Echo?” Your voice broke.

His eyes widened. “You—”

And then the moment was gone. Soldiers stormed in behind him. A trooper in matte black and red—Clone Force 99, you recognized them in a flash—pulled him back.

“They have another one,” Echo shouted. “She’s hooked into the system—she’s part of it!”

The taller clone, Hunter, paused. “Where?”

“There!” Echo pointed. “Don’t leave her!”

You tried to scream, but the interface surged, flooding your mind with static. Your body spasmed. Everything went white.

⸻

You Woke Up in a Medical Bay.

For a terrifying second, you thought it was still the Techno Union—until you saw the blue stripes on the armor around you.

The 501st.

And standing beside your cot, his Scomp link resting awkwardly against his side, was Echo.

Alive.

Free.

He looked thinner than you remembered. Hollow-eyed. As if he still didn’t quite believe it was real.

Neither did you.

“Hey,” you whispered, tears stinging.

He swallowed. “Hey.”

He crossed to you, hands trembling slightly as he reached for yours.

“I told them not to leave you,” he said. “I—I made them go back.”

“I knew you would.”

He laughed—a shaky, broken sound—and sat beside you.

“I thought I lost you,” he admitted. “When they cut the tether, I thought—”

“I know,” you murmured. “I felt it too.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. There was no need. You’d already shared your minds. Now all that remained was your hearts.

But Freedom Wasn’t Simple.

You were debriefed for days. The Jedi Council wanted answers. The Republic wanted data. Rex and Anakin debriefed Echo constantly, praising his resilience while ignoring the toll.

The 501st welcomed you cautiously. You weren’t a clone, not a general, just… someone in between. A survivor like Echo. A curiosity. A symbol.

The worst part? The silence between you and Echo.

Not intentional. Not cruel.

Just… fragile.

He was different now. Wary. Reserved.

You tried to reach him. But he kept walls up.

He still spoke to Rex and Jesse and the occasional whisper to Fives’ ghost, but you could tell—something had changed. Like being out of the system had broken something inside him.

One night, after lights-out in the barracks, you found him alone in the hangar.

“I miss the link,” you said.

He turned, surprised. “What?”

“I miss knowing what you felt. What you were thinking. Now… I don’t know how to reach you.”

His face twisted—pain, guilt, grief.

“I don’t want you to see what I am now,” he said. “I’m not the man you met in there. I’m more machine than—”

“Don’t say that.”

He looked at you, exhausted. “You don’t understand.”

“I do,” you said, stepping closer. “I was there. They took everything from both of us. But that connection we had? That wasn’t because of wires or data streams. That was real. And it still is.”

He stared at you like a drowning man seeing shore.

And then—finally—he let you hold him.

He didn’t kiss you. Not yet. The pain was still too fresh.

But when you curled into him that night, metal against flesh, scars against scars, you both knew: the war wasn’t over.

But you weren’t alone anymore.

Hello, hope this is an ok ask but I was wondering if you could Omega and Fem!Reader where the reader takes an omega on a mother-daughter outing? And the boys see just how much of having a mother figure in omegas life is beneficial? Maybe omega has some attempts of trying to set you up with one of her brothers so you have a reason to stay? Funny shenanigans ensue as omega tries to push her brothers toward you (and succeeds with one of them, your choice of who)

Hope this makes sense! ♥️

“Operation: Stay Forever”

The Bad Batch x Reader

Omega was practically vibrating with excitement as she tugged your hand through the streets of Pabu, her curls bouncing and her voice a mile a minute.

“We’re gonna get snacks, and go to the market, and you have to help me pick a new dress—Hunter says all mine are covered in grease stains but I think they’re just lived in—and maybe we can do something with my hair later! Do you know how to braid? Of course you do, you’re amazing!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, heart full. “I do know how to braid. You want one with beads or ribbons?”

Omega gasped like you’d just offered her the throne of Naboo.

“Beads. Obviously. Ribbons are for formal events. This is casual fabulosity.”

You smiled, following her into the plaza. “Of course. Casual fabulosity. My mistake.”

Hunter squinted as he watched the two of you walk away, Omega’s hand in yours, already talking your ear off.

“…She never talks that much to Tech.”

Wrecker laughed. “That’s ‘cause Tech tried to explain fabrics to her like he was listing battle specs. She just wanted to know if it was twirly.”

Echo leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “She needed this.”

“She’s had us,” Crosshair said simply, though he looked less like he was arguing and more like he was observing.

Echo’s brow lifted. “She’s had four brothers and a droid. That’s not the same thing as having a mother figure.” He glanced at Hunter. “Which I keep telling you. For years.”

“Oh, come on,” Wrecker grinned. “You were basically the mom until she met [Y/N].”

Echo didn’t miss a beat. “And you were the big toddler I was babysitting.”

Hunter snorted. “Can’t argue there.”

⸻

Omega twirled in her new outfit—a bright tunic you’d helped her pick, complete with beads braided into her hair. You’d spent the last hour painting your nails and hers, sipping local fruit teas, and chatting about everything from your favorite foods to who the you thought the cutest clone was.

“So…” Omega said slowly, squinting up at you with faux innocence. “Do you like anyone?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You know. Like like.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Because I think one of my brothers likes you.”

You choked on your tea. “I’m sorry—what?”

“Well, it’s obvious. Everyone likes you. But I think Echo likes you. Or maybe Hunter.” She tapped her chin. “Definitely not Crosshair. He’s weird. He called feelings ‘tactical liabilities.’”

You laughed despite yourself. “That sounds about right.”

“But you could be the mom! Then you’d have to stay! I’ve decided.”

You raised a brow. “That why you’ve been dragging me by the hand all day like a trophy?”

“Yes,” she said proudly.

⸻

You returned to the Batch’s quarters just in time to find the guys lounging around post-dinner. Omega skipped ahead of you, proudly showing off her outfit and beads.

“Look what we did! She’s so good at braiding, and she picked this out, and—oh!” She turned, sly grin in place. “You know, she really likes men who are good with kids.”

Hunter arched a brow.

Echo narrowed his eyes.

Crosshair rolled his.

Wrecker leaned forward excitedly. “Ooooh. Is this one of those matchmaking things again?”

“Again?!” you hissed, turning to Omega.

Omega threw her hands up. “I’m just trying to help! She’s amazing, and you all need help with social cues.”

Echo blinked slowly. “I’m going to get blamed for this, aren’t I?”

Hunter sighed, rubbing his temple. “Omega—”

“I mean,” Omega went on innocently, “she is pretty, and Echo’s the responsible one, but maybe a bit too serious. Hunter, you’re too emotionally constipated—”

“Hey!”

“Crosshair’s a walking red flag—”

“Not inaccurate,” Echo muttered.

“—and Wrecker’s a brother to everyone. Which means Echo is the best option. Or maybe Hunter if he could manage one emotional conversation without running off into the jungle.”

Hunter looked like he was reconsidering all his life choices. “Omega, you’re grounded.”

“You can’t ground me. I have diplomatic immunity,” she beamed.

Wrecker burst out laughing.

You were crying with laughter now, face flushed. “I can’t believe you just called Crosshair a red flag.”

“She’s not wrong,” Crosshair said, leaning back with an almost-smile.

Echo, still composed, finally looked your way. “You’re really good with her.”

You smiled. “She’s easy to love.”

He paused. “Yeah. She is.”

Your eyes met. The moment hung—just long enough for Omega to wiggle her eyebrows dramatically in the background like a gremlin.

Echo sighed. “Omega, if you don’t stop matchmaking, I’m going to let Crosshair do your next math lesson.”

Her horror was immediate. “You wouldn’t!”

“Oh, I would.”

Crosshair smiled slowly. “I’ll make flashcards.”

⸻

Later that night, you were helping Omega with her beads and hair.

“Did I mess it up?” she asked suddenly. “Trying to push things?”

You looked at her in the mirror and smiled softly.

“No. You just reminded me how lucky I am to be here.”

She smiled back, cheeks a little pink. “You’re not gonna leave, right?”

You pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Not unless Crosshair actually makes those flashcards.”

“Please don’t leave,” she said dramatically, “I’m not ready for that.”

Neither were you.

And honestly?

You weren’t going anywhere.

⸻

The next morning, you found Omega hunched over the small dining table with a data pad, scraps of paper, crayons, and a very serious expression. Wrecker walked by, glanced at the mess, and raised a brow.

“Whatcha doin’, kid?”

“Mission planning,” Omega said without looking up.

“For what, exactly?”

She tapped the screen with finality. “Operation Wedding Bells.”

Wrecker blinked. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

By midday, Hunter had found out.

Because Omega had tried to get his measurements.

“For the suit, obviously,” she said.

Hunter rubbed his temples like he had a migraine. “What suit?”

“For the wedding. Between Echo and [Y/N].”

You nearly dropped the tray of food you were carrying. “Omega.”

She held up the data pad and pointed to a crude drawing of a beach, some flowers, and what you assumed was Echo in some sort of tuxedo with his armor still on. “Do you want a sunset wedding or a moonlight one? I can make either happen. I’ve already got Crosshair assigned to security. And I told Tech that he could officiate.”

Echo stared at her blankly. “Why Tech?”

“He’s got that ‘wise old man’ vibe now.”

“I’m no older then the rest.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got the vibe.”

Hunter sighed. “You’re grounded.”

“You can’t ground me,” Omega said, standing up and striking a dramatic pose. “I’m planning a wedding.”

⸻

The sun was setting, warm orange light spilling over the ocean, casting long shadows across the sand.

You were sitting quietly, sipping a cool drink and letting the breeze brush across your skin, when Echo stepped out and joined you. He had something in his hands—a small, folded piece of paper, clearly drawn by Omega.

“She gave this to me,” he said, handing it to you.

You opened it.

It was another “wedding plan.” The two of you were stick figures holding hands, surrounded by a bunch of questionably drawn flowers, and what looked like Wrecker as a ring bearer. At the bottom, in bold handwriting, Omega had written:

“You’re already a family. This just makes it official.”

Your heart squeezed.

“She really wants you to stay,” Echo said softly, sitting beside you. “We all do.”

You glanced at him. “You too?”

He met your eyes, and there was something vulnerable there—an honesty he didn’t often allow himself to show.

“I think I’ve wanted that since the moment you helped her with that first braid. You made her feel… safe. And seen. That means everything to me.”

You smiled, heart thudding. “You know she called you the responsible one, right? Said you were the best option.”

A ghost of a smile pulled at his lips. “Guess I’ve got her endorsement.”

You nudged his arm lightly. “I’d take it seriously. She’s planning outfits now.”

Echo chuckled, quiet and warm. “Of course she is.”

The silence between you stretched into something comfortable, like warmth curling around your chest.

“She’s not wrong though,” you said softly.

Echo turned to you, brows lifting just slightly. “About what?”

You looked at him then, really looked. At the man who had lost so much, given so much, and still stood tall—quiet, steadfast, kind.

“That you’re the best option.”

There was a beat. Then another.

He reached out, hesitating only for a second before his gloved fingers brushed yours.

“I’d like to prove her right.”

You didn’t need any more words than that.

Your fingers laced with his as the sun slipped below the horizon.

Back inside, Omega leaned over the data pad and added a final touch to the sketch.

A heart.

Right over where your stick figures stood, holding hands.

She beamed.

“Mission success.”

⸻

Hey! I’m not sure if you’re still doing requests if not completely ignore this lol

But if you are I would love to see a version of TBB x reader where she falls with tech during Plan 99 and they have to survive together and make it back ♥️

“The Fall Doesn’t End You”

The Bad Batch x Reader

You saw it happening too late.

Tech’s voice—calm, resolved, final—echoed over the comms:

“When have we ever followed orders?”

And then he shot the cable.

You screamed his name as the rail car detached and plummeted.

You didn’t think. You couldn’t think. You just ran and jumped.

The world turned into chaos. Smoke. Fire. Wind tearing at your skin. The others were screaming over the comms, but it all became static in your ears.

Your jetpack roared to life, catching you mid-fall. You dove through the air, scanning through smoke and debris—

There.

Tech was falling fast, arms flailing for balance, unable to stabilize.

“I see him—” you gasped.

You slammed into him midair, arms locking tight around his chest.

The jolt nearly knocked the breath out of you both. He twisted in your grip, shocked, eyes wide behind those cracked lenses.

“You—what are you doing?!”

“Saving you, obviously,” you grunted, arms straining as the added weight pulled hard against your pack.

The thrusters shrieked in protest, struggling to adjust. Too much mass. Too much speed.

“I’m going to burn the stabilizers!” you snapped. “Hold on!”

The blast from the pack kicked against the drop, slowing your descent—but not enough. The treeline raced up toward you. Your HUD flashed a critical warning. You’d burn out before you cleared the ridge.

You flipped, twisting mid-air to cushion him as much as you could.

Then—

Impact.

A scream tore from your throat as the world shattered around you. Dirt. Leaves. Stone. The smell of ozone and blood. Something cracked inside your chest. Your pack gave a final shuddering pop before it died completely, hissing smoke.

You rolled, skidding through the underbrush. Your helmet cracked against the earth, and the world blurred at the edges.

Everything hurt.

But you were alive.

And so was he.

You groaned and dragged yourself up, muscles screaming. Your armor was scorched, one gauntlet bent out of shape, ribs probably cracked.

“Tech,” you rasped, blinking through your visor. “Tech—are you—?”

He was lying a few meters away, not moving.

Panic surged in your throat. You stumbled over to him, dropping to your knees.

He groaned—loud, agonized.

Good. Groaning was good. That meant breathing.

“Are you hurt?” you asked, fingers trembling as you touched his faceplate, carefully pried the helmet off. His brow was bleeding now, from the impact, not the fall. His lip was split.

“Left leg…” he grit out. “Something’s wrong. I heard a pop. Possibly dislocated. And my wrist…”

“Don’t move,” you said, voice hardening as you hit your survival mode.

He looked at you, dazed. “You—you caught me.”

“Yeah.” You pulled a half-smirk. “Might wanna say thank you when you’re not bleeding.”

He gave a sharp, breathless huff that might’ve been a laugh.

Then his eyes flicked to your pack, lying in a heap of fried circuits and blackened wires.

“…You’re not flying us out of here, are you?”

You glanced at the damage and exhaled grimly. “Not a chance.”

Your wristplate buzzed. The comm was faint, barely functioning, but you caught Hunter’s voice—choppy, panicked. Static swallowed most of it.

You switched it off. If you could hear them, the Empire might too.

You looked back at Tech. His hand was already moving to retrieve his broken goggles. Always thinking. Always working.

You knelt beside him, breath still ragged, and said low, “We’re not dying here.”

His gaze met yours. Quiet. Sure. Familiar.

“No,” he said. “We aren’t.”

You tightened your grip on your blaster, your hand brushing his for a second longer than necessary.

“Then let’s move.”

⸻

The forest was dense and unforgiving, branches clawing at your armor like hands trying to drag you down. Your muscles burned, and your ribs throbbed with every breath, but you carried Tech over your shoulder, his leg now firmly splinted with scavenged durasteel rods and cloth from your ruined cape.

He didn’t complain once.

He never did.

Even bleeding and pale, his mind was sharp.

“There’s a decommissioned Imperial scout outpost approximately 6.2 kilometers north. If they haven’t wiped the databanks, I might be able to reroute a distress beacon—or override one of their transports.”

“You’re bleeding out,” you grunted. “And I can’t run on half a lung, so let’s just focus on getting there without dying.”

A pause.

Then softly, dryly:

“You’re quite bossy when you’re in pain.”

“You only just noticing?” You smirked through your cracked visor.

“Your wrist?” you asked, eyes scanning the treeline as you pushed through the brush.

“Relocated,” he muttered, breathless but focused. “Painful, but functional.”

“Good.”

His lip twitched. That half-smile — the one that barely anyone else ever noticed.

It was there for you.

You found the outpost by nightfall, hidden beneath a rock shelf, half-collapsed and long abandoned.

It wasn’t empty.

Two scout troopers still patrolled its perimeter—lazy, inattentive. You took them both out silently. One to the throat, the other dropped with a knife to the back.

You dragged Tech inside. He immediately began work at a busted console while you blocked the entry with a broken speeder and set charges at the entrance — just in case.

“Can you fly a Zeta-class transport?” he asked from the shadows.

You blinked. “I can break a Zeta-class in six different ways. Flying one? Yeah.”

He nodded once, expression unreadable, even as he struggled to stay upright.

“Good. There’s one still intact on the lower dock.”

His hands moved fast, bloodied fingers typing commands and bypass codes. “If we time this right, we can access the flight deck and use their call codes to leave under the guise of a refueling run.”

You stared at him. “You think of all this while hanging off my shoulder in the forest?”

He didn’t look up. “I had time.”

There was a moment of silence between you both.

“You shouldn’t have jumped,” he said suddenly, voice soft.

You didn’t look at him. “You shouldn’t have fallen.”

A beat of silence.

“…Statistically, your survival odds were—”

“Tech.”

He paused.

You finally turned to him. “If you say the odds were against me, I’ll break your other leg.”

His eyes flicked down. Another twitch of his lips. “Noted.”

⸻

The escape was anything but smooth.

You blasted off the dock just as alarms blared through the ruined outpost. A TIE patrol picked up your trajectory within minutes, but your flight path was erratic and unpredictable — Tech feeding you nav data mid-chase, even while clutching his leg and gritting his teeth through the pain.

One TIE clipped your right engine.

“We’re going down.”

“Not on my watch,” you hissed, flipping switches, forcing power to the thrusters with every ounce of skill you’d ever learned. The transport rocked violently but didn’t fail.

It took every dirty flying trick in the book, but you broke atmosphere, hit lightspeed, and screamed into the void.

Only when the stars elongated in the viewport did you sag back into the pilot’s seat, chest heaving.

From the co-pilot’s chair, Tech exhaled, his head resting against the panel.

“See?” you whispered. “Told you we weren’t dying.”

His voice came softly. “You’re infuriating.”

You gave him a faint grin. “You’re welcome.”

⸻

When you limped off the stolen transport at the far end of the Ord Mantell hangar, the world felt both heavier and lighter.

You barely took two steps before Wrecker barreled into view, yelling your names like a freight train.

“TECH?! (Y/N)?!”

You barely had time to raise your hand before you were scooped up in a Wrecker hug, your cracked ribs screaming in protest.

Tech was half-carried by Echo, who swore under his breath and held him like he was glass.

Hunter came in slower, quieter—eyes wide with disbelief. He said nothing at first, just looked at you both, jaw tight.

You gave a tired nod.

“We made it.”

“You jumped after him,” Hunter said hoarsely.

“I wasn’t letting him go alone.”

“We thought we lost you both.”

You shrugged, voice rough. “You almost did.”

Then, Omega burst through the crowd.

She barreled past the others, braid flying, and threw herself at Tech, tears streaming down her cheeks.

She collided into Tech so hard it nearly knocked him over—arms thrown around his waist, sobbing into his chestplate. He froze for half a second.

Then, slowly, awkwardly—he put his arms around her.

“I thought you were gone,” she choked out.

He glanced at you over her shoulder. His voice was soft, quiet, and full of something he didn’t have a name for.

“I was. But she caught me.”

Omega pulled back, blinking through tears.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for bringing him back.”

You froze for a second, unsure how to respond.

Then you rested your gloved hand on her head. “Couldn’t leave him. Not even if he wanted me to.”

“But,” you added, “I did have to carry him across half of Eriadu. That’s worth something.”

Tech, for once, didn’t have a comeback. He simply looked at you with those calculating, unreadable eyes of his.

And in that quiet moment, you understood each other completely.

Later That Night Tech sat beside you on the Marauder ramp, stars glittering overhead.

Neither of you said anything for a while.

Then, softly, he spoke.

“You risked everything.”

You leaned back against the hull, shoulder grazing his. “So did you.”

He hesitated. “You don’t… expect me to say anything emotional, do you?”

You snorted. “Stars, no.”

“…Good.”

Another silence.

Then, your fingers brushed his — just slightly. Not grabbing. Just there.

And his hand… stayed.

YAAA IM SUCH A HUGE FAN OF YOUR TBB WORK AND I FINALLY HAVE A REQUEST IDEA…

Mandalorian reader who speaks in Mando’a to herself when she thinks she’s alone, and one day cf 99 overhears her!!

tysm if you do this, like I said I love your work and I’m so excited to read more <3 take care lovely!!

Thank you x

I hope this is somewhat close to what you had in mind.

“Secrets in the Shadows”

Bad Batch x Reader

The cantina was loud as usual, reeking of stale spotchka and poor decisions. You sat in the corner booth at Cid’s, helmet off but gauntlets still on, nursing a cheap drink and a cheaper job. You’d just come back from a run that paid in credits so light they could float off your palm. Figures.

You muttered to yourself, low and in a tongue most beings on Ord Mantell didn’t understand.

“Kriffing dikkut,” you muttered under your breath, just loud enough for your own ears. “Ni ru'kir not even cuyir sha borarir today… bal par meg”

You swirled your cup, leaned back with a scowl. In your mind Cid’s got no honor, no plan. Just her greasy fingers in every job on this rock.

Another sip. You were speaking louder now. You thought you were alone. “Meh Ni had options, Ni Ru'kel tettar kaysh shebs off a roof”

“Interesting,” came a voice just behind you.

You froze. Slowly, you turned your head—and saw the familiar faces of Clone Force 99. Hunter stood with his arms folded, head tilted. Tech was already tapping on his datapad. Crosshair had a toothpick in his mouth and that smug glint in his eye. Wrecker was smirking like you just said something hilarious. Echo said nothing, but his gaze was sharp.

“You speak Mando’a,” Tech noted, without looking up. “Quite fluently.”

You stood quickly, not bothering to hide your annoyance.

“No osik,” you snapped. “Didn’t exactly mean for the whole squad to eavesdrop.”

Crosshair chuckled. “You talk to yourself in a dead language, and we’re the weird ones?”

Your visor snapped down. “It’s not dead. Just sleeping. Like a rancor with teeth.”

Hunter took a step closer. “Why keep it quiet?”

You didn’t answer at first. Just stared, then finally said, “Because it’s mine. Because people like Cid don’t deserve to hear it. Because you aruetiise don’t know what it means to carry a name that was earned, not assigned.”

Wrecker looked genuinely hurt. “Hey, we’ve fought with you, bled with you—”

“Doesn’t make us vod,” you interrupted. “Not yet.”

Echo stepped forward, quieter than the rest. “We’re not trying to be something we’re not. But we do understand what it’s like to have your culture stolen and your purpose used.”

That made you pause.

You looked at him for a long time, the words catching in your throat. Then, finally, you said it—soft, but clear.

“Ni ven, ori’vod. But you tell that chakaar Cid if she lowballs me again, I’ll weld her bar shut.”

Crosshair’s smirk widened. “I’ll get the torch.”

Hunter let out a rare chuckle. “Fair enough. Next time, maybe just let us know when you’re venting in Mando’a. We’ll knock first.”

You gave a subtle nod and walked past them, muttering under your breath again.

“I don’t trust you. Not yet.”

But your pace slowed at the door. Just for a second.

And none of them missed it.

I saw your fic “What’s that smell” and thought it was absolutely beautiful! I was wondering what would be the rest of the batches reactions to the new smells. I can’t imagine what their ship would smell like and then having it change and maybe even be cleaner. You’re the best! Xx

Their ship would 100% smell like oil, sweat, blaster residue, old caf, dusty armor polish, and wet dog on a good day.

Here is what I believe the rest of the batches reactions are.

Crosshair

The first time he notices it, he’s practically scowling.

He hates things he can’t immediately explain, and suddenly the ship doesn’t smell like burnt wiring and recycled air anymore — it smells like…

something soft.

Something warm.

Something he can’t stop breathing in.

He’s so annoyed about it he follows you around for an entire day, sniffing the air like a pissed-off lothcat, trying to figure out if it’s you or if someone installed a karking air freshener.

When he finally realizes it’s you, he just stands there staring at you for a long second, lips pressed into a tight line.

Then he mutters:

“You smell… distracting.”

Like it’s a personal insult.

Will absolutely lean in closer than necessary just to breathe you in — but if you catch him, he’ll immediately go “Hmph” and pretend you’re the weird one.

Wrecker

Wrecker’s the first to flat-out say it.

He scoops you up into a bone-crushing hug one day, immediately sniffs, and then pulls back with wide, amazed eyes.

“Whoa! You smell amazing! Like… like sunshine! And pastries! And soap!”

He is obsessed after that. Every time you walk by, he inhales dramatically like a toddler discovering their favorite candy.

“Can we keep ya?” he jokes — but he means it. You’re like a walking comfort blanket for him.

The Marauder slowly starts smelling better too because Wrecker starts cleaning more — purely because he wants the nice smell to stick around.

Tech

Tech notices immediately, but being Tech, he processes it differently.

“Interesting,” he says aloud the first time you pass him. “The olfactory change is quite pleasant.”

Then he starts… researching it.

He runs calculations about human pheromones and attraction rates. He theorizes that your presence might lower the crew’s stress levels by up to 23%.

He doesn’t even realize he’s orbiting closer to you during missions until Wrecker points it out.

Embarrassed, he adjusts his goggles and mutters something about “optimal proximity for psychological benefits.”

Translation: You smell good and it’s making his brain short-circuit, help.

Echo

Echo notices it like a punch to the face because he’s so hyperaware of sensory input now.

The Marauder always smells like metal and grime — he’s used to it — but you?

You smell like rain hitting dry ground. Like something clean and alive and real.

It shakes him a little.

Reminds him of before — before the war, before everything.

He tries to be subtle about it, but you catch him lingering near you sometimes, jaw tight like he’s trying not to let himself want it.

One day you brush past him and he closes his eyes for half a second, just breathing you in.

He doesn’t say anything about it for a long time.

Until maybe you tease him — and he finally admits, voice low and rough:

“You make this whole ship feel… less like a graveyard.”

Which might be the most devastatingly sweet thing Echo could ever say.

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a TBB x Fem!Reader +any other clones of your choice, where they keep using pet names in mandoa like cyar'ika, mesh'la, and maybe even riduur?(because they might’ve gotten accidentally married? Love those tropes)

but the reader has no idea what they mean and that they’re pet names or that the batch likes her. Eventually she finds out of course and a bunch of stuttering cute confessions?

Your writing is so amazing and i literally can’t get enough of it! Xx

“Say It Again?”

TBB x Fem!Reader

You had gotten used to the way clones talked — the gruffness, the slang, the camaraderie. But ever since you’d been working more closely with Clone Force 99, you’d noticed something… different.

They used weird words around you. Words you didn’t hear other troopers saying.

Hunter always greeted you with a gentle “Cyar’ika,” accompanied by that intense little half-smile of his.

Wrecker would beam and shout, “Mesh’la! You came!” every time you entered a room — like you were some goddess descending from the stars.

Crosshair, as always, was smug and cool, throwing in a soft “Riduur…” under his breath when he thought you weren’t listening, though you never figured out what it meant. He often smirked when you looked confused, and somehow that made it worse.

Even Tech, who rarely used nicknames at all, had let slip a casual “You’re quite remarkable, mesh’la,” when you helped him debug his datapad. He didn’t look up, but you felt the heat in his voice.

And Echo? Sweet, dependable Echo — he was the least subtle of them all.

“You alright, cyar’ika?”

“You look tired, cyar’ika.”

“Get some rest, cyar’ika.”

You were starting to think “Cyar’ika” meant your actual name.

But something was off. The others never used those words with each other. Only with you.

So, naturally, you asked Rex.

And Rex choked on his caf.

“You—what did Crosshair call you?” he coughed, wiping his chin.

You repeated it: “Rid…uur? I think? I dunno. He said it real low.”

Rex gave you the slowest blink you’d ever seen and then rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Riduur means… spouse. As in… wife. It’s what you call your partner.”

You froze. “What?!”

“And cyar’ika?” he continued, amused. “Sweetheart. Mesh’la is ‘beautiful.’ They’re… Mando’a pet names. Very affectionate.”

The blushing.

The flashbacks.

All those words… those looks… Tech calling you remarkable like it was a scientific fact, Crosshair smirking like he had secrets, Echo’s voice dropping a full octave every time he said cyar’ika…

You marched straight into the Havoc Marauder like a woman on a mission — and promptly forgot how to speak when all five of them looked up at you.

“…You okay, mesh’la?” Hunter asked gently.

You blinked. Your voice cracked. “…You’ve been calling me sweetheart?”

The room went dead silent.

Echo dropped his ration bar.

Wrecker panicked. “Wait—you didn’t know?”

Crosshair chuckled and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Told you she didn’t know.”

Tech frowned at him. “Statistically, the odds of her knowing were—”

“You called me your wife,” you said, pointing at Crosshair like he’d committed a war crime.

He shrugged. “Didn’t hear you complain.”

You stammered something completely unintelligible, covering your face with both hands, and Wrecker let out the loudest, happiest laugh you’d ever heard. “So… does that mean you like us back?”

You peeked through your fingers. “…Us?”

Hunter stepped forward slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “We all… kinda do. Like you. A lot.”

You were red. Like, fruit-on-Ryloth red. “You’re telling me five elite clones have been flirting with me in another language this whole time?!”

“…Yes,” they all mumbled at once.

Crosshair grinned like he’d won a bet. “So… Riduur?”

“Riduur?” Crosshair repeated, lifting a brow like it was nothing. Like he hadn’t just dropped a romantic thermal detonator right in front of everyone.

You stared at him. At all of them.

Hunter’s quiet guilt. Echo’s embarrassed fidgeting. Wrecker’s hopeful puppy-dog smile. Tech’s analytical interest. And Crosshair’s smug little smirk that you really wanted to slap off his face… or maybe kiss.

You swallowed. “I—I need a second.”

And then promptly turned on your heel and walked right back out of the Marauder.

⸻

You spent the rest of the day spiraling.

Sweetheart. Beautiful. Wife.

They’d been calling you those for weeks. Months, maybe. You were out here thinking it was some fun cultural expression or inside joke you weren’t in on—and it turns out you were the joke. The target. Of five clone commandos’… affection?

It didn’t feel like a joke, though. It felt sincere. Soft. Safe.

And scary.

Because you liked them. All of them. Differently, but genuinely. The thought of them caring about you—of whispering pet names they grew up hearing in the most intimate, personal ways—made your chest ache in a way you didn’t know how to handle.

⸻

The next day, you avoided them.

The next day, they let you.

The third day, Hunter found you in the mess hall, sat beside you without a word, and handed you a steaming mug of caf.

You looked at him.

He didn’t speak right away. Then: “We’re sorry. If we made you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you blurted out. “I just… didn’t know how to react. I’m still trying to figure it out.”

Hunter nodded, eyes kind. “We can stop. The nicknames, I mean.”

You hesitated. “No. I don’t want you to stop.”

He smiled, just a little. “You sure?”

You nodded. “I think I like them. I just… I want to know what they mean now.”

⸻

So, one by one, the boys showed you.

Wrecker said “mesh’la” every time you helped him carry heavy crates, with a goofy grin that made your stomach flip.

Echo said “cyar’ika” after every quiet conversation, letting the word linger like a promise he wasn’t ready to say aloud yet.

Tech, precise as always, began to offer direct translations.

“You look stunning today, mesh’la—objectively, of course.”

Crosshair didn’t stop with “riduur.” He started calling you “cyar’ika” too—softly, in rare unguarded moments—and he never looked away when he said it. Like he meant it. Like he knew what it was doing to you.

And Hunter? Hunter started saying “ner cyar’ika.” My sweetheart.

⸻

It wasn’t instant.

But slowly, their voices stopped making you flustered—and started making you feel home.

You started saying their names softer. Started touching their arms when you passed. Started blushing less… and smiling more.

And one day, while standing beside Wrecker during maintenance, you reached up on your toes, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “Thanks, cyare.”

He blinked. His whole face lit up like a nova. “You said it back!”

Later, you caught Echo outside the ship. Nervous, swaying slightly on his heels. You pressed your hand into his and whispered, “You can keep calling me cyar’ika, you know.”

He looked down at you with wide eyes. “You really don’t mind?”

You shook your head. “I like it.”

And Tech, when you repeated “mesh’la” with a teasing little lilt, glanced at you and—just this once—forgot what he was doing.

Even Crosshair dropped his toothpick when you looked him dead in the eye and whispered: “You keep calling me your riduur. What does that make you, then?”

He blinked. Once. Then smiled. Really smiled. “Yours.”

⸻

By the time you curled up beside Hunter one quiet night, your head on his shoulder and his hand tracing slow circles on your back, he murmured “ner cyar’ika” and you didn’t freeze or stammer.

You just smiled.

Because now you knew.

And you finally, finally understood that you’d never been the joke.

You’d always been the reason they smiled.

Hi, me again! Could I request a comfort fic with either Rex, Fox, or Echo? This last week has been so hard with my depression- where everyday tasks, like getting ready for work, feel overwhelming. I love your stories; they are the literary equivalent of a mug of tea and a cozy blanket.

Thank you so much —it truly means the world to me. I really appreciate and am touched that my stories could bring a little comfort for you during a tough time. I hope the following is what you wanted and brings a bit of comfort xo

⸻

“Safe With You”

Echo x Reader

The hum of the Marauder was a soft lull in the background, like a lullaby Echo had never known he needed. You sat curled in a blanket on the makeshift bench-seat of the ship’s common area, half-asleep but unwilling to move to your bunk just yet. It wasn’t just the nightmares. It was the quiet loneliness that always settled too deep in your bones after the lights dimmed.

Footsteps echoed—soft but mechanical—and you already knew it was him.

Echo always walked like he didn’t want to be noticed. Like maybe the durasteel in his limbs made him take up too much space. But to you, he never felt like too much. He felt like safety.

“Can’t sleep again?” his voice was a quiet murmur, meant for you alone.

You opened your eyes and gave him a small, sheepish smile. “Was just… thinking.”

He tilted his head as he sat across from you, his cybernetic hand resting on the edge of the bench. “Thinking, huh? Dangerous pastime.”

“Yeah, well, I’m known for my recklessness,” you said, trying to joke, but it came out thin.

Echo’s eyes softened as he looked at you, shadows under his own eyes betraying he hadn’t had much rest either. The war had ended, but peace still felt like a foreign language.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he said gently, glancing down. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

You blinked a few times. No one had said that to you in a long time. Not like that. Not like they meant it.

“I’m tired of being strong all the time,” you admitted, voice small. “It’s like… the second I stop, everything I’ve been holding up comes crashing down.”

Echo didn’t say anything for a moment, and then he stood—tall, quiet—and crossed to your side. He sat down beside you on your bed, shoulder to shoulder, warm despite the metal. Without asking, he pulled the blanket over the both of you.

You leaned into him, and he let you.

“You don’t have to hold everything up,” he said, pressing his forehead gently to yours. “I’ve got you.”

Your breath hitched, and when your hand found his— you felt the weight of the world ease off your chest, even just a little.

“I feel safe with you,” you whispered.

Echo smiled, barely there but real. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believed it.

The silence between you wasn’t heavy anymore. It was soft—like a warm blanket pulled over the both of you, tighter than the one wrapped around your shoulders.

Echo leaned into the wall behind him, tugging you along with him so that your head rested just over his heart. It beat steady under your cheek, a gentle rhythm that grounded you more than you expected.

“I used to hate the quiet,” he said, his voice low, like he was afraid to wake the stars outside the viewport. “When I was in the Citadel, then with the Techno Union… silence meant something bad was coming. I’d brace for pain, or for someone to take another piece of me away.”

Your arms tightened around his waist, your hand resting on the seam where flesh met metal.

“But now,” he continued, fingers lightly stroking your shoulder through the blanket, “it’s different. Now it’s just… peace. You make the silence feel safe.”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you nodded against him, letting his words settle into you like rain on parched ground.

A moment passed. Then another. Your breathing slowed, syncing with his. The last remnants of your anxiety started to unwind, like frayed threads being gently tucked away.

Echo shifted just enough to tilt your chin up with his fingers—so gentle it made your eyes sting.

“I know I don’t have much to offer,” he murmured. “Not like I used to. But whatever I have left… you can have it. All of it.”

Before you could answer—before you could even think to—he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Slow. Reverent. Like a promise.

You closed your eyes and let it linger, feeling the way his lips trembled just slightly, like he was holding back all the emotion he wasn’t sure he deserved to feel.

“You’re everything I need,” you whispered against his chest. “You always have been.”

He held you tighter, letting out a breath like he’d been waiting a lifetime to hear that.

And for the rest of the night, you stayed there in his arms, wrapped in warmth, in safety, in the kind of love that didn’t demand anything but presence. The galaxy could wait.

For now, you were exactly where you belonged.

Helllo! I was wondering if you could a spicy bad batch x fem!reader where she used to be a dancer/singer in like a sleezy club, did what was best for easy money. But an op comes up and she needs to it again and the boys didn’t know she had a history of it and are like “oh shit” find it hot but get jealous of the other men. Idk if this makes sense 😅

love your wring! Xx

“Undercover Temptation”

Bad Batch x Fem!Reader | Spice + Jealousy

⸻

The mission sounded simple enough.

Infiltrate a seedy club on Pantora. Gather intel on a black-market arms dealer that frequented the place. Blend in. Make contact. Get out.

Cid had been vague about the details, just that it required “a certain skill set.” And when her eyes landed on you, there was a flicker of something like smugness.

“You’ll fit right in, sweetheart,” she’d said. “Used to be your scene, didn’t it?”

The Batch didn’t know what she meant by that. But you did.

You’d left that part of your life behind when you joined up with Clone Force 99. The sleezy clubs, the music, the makeup, the stage lights — the easy money, the wandering hands. You’d done what you had to. You were good at it. Too good.

Omega had stayed behind, thank the Maker.

⸻

The club on Pantora was everything you remembered from your past life — sweat-slick air, glitter, smoke, and the kind of stares that made your skin crawl in ways you’d long buried.

Cid hadn’t exactly warned the Batch what she was getting them into. Just said it was a “special assignment” and only you could pull it off.

You hadn’t worn this in a long time — short, shimmering dress clinging to every curve, makeup smoky and sharp, hair teased and wild. A performer. A seductress. A mask you’d once worn to survive.

But stepping out into the room full of hardened clones, nothing could’ve prepared you for the heat in their eyes.

Hunter looked you up and down, slow and deliberate, his brows furrowed like he was trying to remember how to breathe.

Wrecker’s jaw dropped, cheeks flushed. “Maker, baby…”

Echo stared like he’d short-circuited.

Tech made an odd choking sound behind his datapad.

And then there was Crosshair.

He had a toothpick between his lips, eyes dragging over your legs, slow and dark. “Didn’t know you used to work a stage,” he murmured, voice like smoke. “That explains a lot.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you smirked.

He grinned. “Means now I know why the hell I’ve been dreamin’ about you on your knees.”

Echo made a noise of protest. Wrecker looked like he was about to explode. Hunter didn’t say anything — but his fists were clenched.

You went on stage anyway. Because this was the mission.

You knew how to move. Knew how to keep attention. The intel target was in the VIP booth — you’d been instructed to lure him out, get close, plant a tracker, and distract him while Tech accessed his datapad remotely.

But the Batch? Yeah, they were distracted too.

Crosshair watched from the shadows, his shoulders tense, jaw tight. He was normally smooth, sarcastic — but this? This had him on edge.

Hunter paced by the back exit like a caged animal.

Wrecker glared at every man who so much as breathed in your direction.

Echo kept muttering, “She shouldn’t have to do this,” under his breath.

Tech… he was sweating. You were pretty sure his goggles fogged up.

The moment it all went to hell was when a drunk mercenary tried to grab you mid-performance.

Your eyes had locked with Hunter’s for a split second — a silent signal — when a hand yanked you roughly by the waist, spinning you mid-dance. You tensed immediately, smile faltering.

The guy was laughing, leering, pulling you flush against him.

And Hunter moved like a damn predator.

One second he was at the exit, the next, he was slamming the guy into the stage floor, snarling, “Don’t. Touch. Her.”

You barely had time to react before Crosshair had his rifle out, providing overwatch from the rafters, eyes sharp and deadly.

Echo pulled you behind him protectively.

Wrecker cracked his knuckles with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “You touched the wrong girl, pal.”

Tech looked like he wanted to kill the man — but also couldn’t stop blinking at you in that outfit.

The bar erupted into chaos.

Shots rang out.

You ducked low as the crowd screamed and scattered. Your target made a run for it — but not before Tech tagged his datapad. Crosshair clipped his shoulder with a clean shot. Wrecker handled two mercs trying to flank you.

You moved to help Hunter — but he was down.

Your heart dropped.

You rushed to his side, kneeling beside him. “Hunter!”

He was bleeding — blaster bolt to the shoulder, unfocused eyes still locked on you. “’M fine,” he rasped. “Saw… saw that guy grab you. Should’ve—shit—moved faster.”

You pressed a hand to the wound. “Don’t be an idiot. I’ve had worse hands on me. We’re getting you out.”

“Not while you’re still dressed like that,” he muttered weakly.

Behind you, Crosshair took out another would-be attacker, and growled through clenched teeth, “If anyone else touches her tonight, I’m leaving bodies.”

Echo lifted Hunter over his shoulder while Wrecker covered the retreat. Tech dragged you out by the hand, pulling you through a back hallway while still rattling off data from the merc’s pad.

“You… that performance,” Tech blurted, breathless. “I’ll be reviewing the security footage later. For… mission purposes.”

You just grinned, eyes flicking to where Crosshair covered the rear, rifle smoking.

Back on the ship, patched up and safe, Hunter leaned against the medbay wall, arm in a sling.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said.

You leaned in, brushing hair from his face. “Yes, I did. It was the job.”

“Next time,” he growled, “you wear that in our quarters. For us. No one else.”

Wrecker appeared in the doorway. “You gonna do another show, babe? I got credits.”

Echo followed. “Don’t encourage her.”

Tech was already setting up a holoprojector. “I have some… strategic questions about your technique.”

Crosshair just smirked from the shadows, toothpick twitching.

“Next time,” he said, “I’m bringing handcuffs.”

Your smile turned wicked. “Oh? For the targets?”

His smirk widened. “No.”

You’re writing is amazing! I had two things

1: What is a trope you love writing?

2: Can there be a Bad batch x reader, where she’s loves to cook. When she joins them she cooks for them and they love her cooking (once they get used to having something other than ration bars). Maybe she even sends them with packed lunches for when they go off.

Thank you x

I don’t have a trope in particular I like writing, but I’m a sucker for a good enemies to lovers or anything angsty or tragic

⸻

“Seconds”

The Bad Batch x Fem!Reader

⸻

They weren’t sure what to make of you at first.

A civilian-turned-ally. Handy in a fight, steady under pressure, and weirdly good at organizing their storage crates. But most of all, you cooked. Like, really cooked.

No one had expected it—not after surviving off ration bars, battlefield meals, and the occasional mystery stew Crosshair pretended didn’t come from a can. But then you’d shown up with a patched-together portable burner and the stubborn attitude of someone determined to make something edible from nothing. And you did.

The first time you cooked, it had stunned them into silence.

The scent of simmering broth wafted through the corridors of the Marauder, followed by spices and roasted meat and something buttery that made Wrecker’s eyes water.

Tech was the first to speak, nose twitching. “That is not protein paste.”

“Unless someone’s finally weaponized it,” Echo said, cautiously hopeful.

Hunter didn’t say anything at first. Just leaned in the doorway of the galley with arms crossed, watching the way you moved—calm, focused, humming to yourself as you stirred a bubbling pot. There was something disarming about the scene. Domestic. Gentle. Strange.

Crosshair gave a low whistle from where he lounged. “Are we keeping this one?”

No one answered. But no one said no.

⸻

It became tradition fast.

You cooked whenever there was downtime, wherever there were ingredients. You scavenged herbs on jungle moons, traded for spices in backwater towns, stretched every credit and crumb into something warm. Something human. You’d hand them plates and bowls and containers like they were weapons before a battle—only these made them feel… grounded.

Every day you could. Breakfasts on quiet mornings. Late dinners after brutal missions. You adapted what ingredients you had, learned what they each liked—Tech hated onions but loved citrus, Crosshair liked spicy food that burned the tongue, Echo had a sweet tooth he tried to hide, and Hunter… Hunter liked comfort food. He’d never say it out loud, but you caught the softness in his expression whenever you made something simple and warm. Like home.

They never asked you to. But they stopped saying no.

Eventually, you started packing lunches for them. Personalized. Thoughtful.

Crosshair’s were spicy and wrapped with a snarky note.

Wrecker’s came with double servings and a warning label.

Tech’s included clean utensils and clear labels, because of course they did.

Echo’s always had a little dessert tucked in the side

Hunter’s would just have little doodle/picture you’d drawn

⸻

They’d left you behind this time. Not because you couldn’t handle yourself, but because someone had to stay with Omega. She wasn’t ready for this mission, and neither were you—still recovering from the last one, a blaster graze healing at your ribs.

The ship was quiet. Omega wandered in around dinner time, drawn by the smell of whatever you were cooking.

She climbed up onto the counter like it was the most natural thing in the world, chin resting on her hands as she watched you slice vegetables and stir broth.

“That smells better than anything I’ve ever had on Kamino,” she said dreamily.

You smiled. “I’ll take that as the highest of compliments.”

She watched you for a while, head tilting. “You always look really happy when you cook.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

You thought about it as you stirred. “Because food makes people feel safe. Even in the middle of a war, a good meal can remind you what it’s like to be human.”

Omega was quiet for a beat. Then: “You make them feel safe.”

You didn’t answer right away.

She squinted up at you. “You really care about them, huh?”

You nodded. “They’ve been through hell. They deserve someone to care.”

She grinned slowly. “You’ve got a crush on one of them.”

You almost dropped the spoon.

“Excuse me?”

She giggled. “I knew it!”

You tried (and failed) to play it cool. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on,” she said, sliding off the counter. “You pack lunches. You make special snacks. You stitched Wrecker’s sleeve when it ripped, even though he didn’t ask. You added hot sauce to Crosshair’s meal because he once said it tasted better. You kept Tech’s favorite tea even though no one else drinks it. And you stayed up all night once just to make sure Echo’s respirator didn’t fail after that dust storm.”

She paused, smirking. “One of those meant more.”

You turned back to the pot. “You are way too observant.”

She laughed. “So, who is it? Wrecker?”

“No.”

“Tech?”

“Definitely not.”

“Echo?”

“Closer.”

“Crosshair?”

You gave her a look.

She grinned wide. “Fine, fine. I won’t guess. For now.”

You stirred the pot again and said, softly, “It doesn’t matter.”

Omega’s voice was gentler. “Why not?”

You shrugged. “Because maybe it’s safer this way. Just being part of this… this crew. This little found family. It’s enough.”

She looked at you for a long moment. Then she slid onto a nearby stool and rested her chin in her hand again.

“They’ll be back soon,” she said. “You gonna tell them dinner’s ready?”

You smiled quietly, not looking up. “They’ll smell it.”

Echo x Old Republic Jedi Reader pt.2

⸻

The ramp of the Marauder hissed as it lowered, groaning under the weight of exhausted boots and heavier egos. Smoke clung to armor plates and robes alike, the remnants of their latest skirmish still staining their clothes and lungs. But they were alive, in one piece, and Wrecker had already claimed that meant it was time for a snack.

“I told you,” Wrecker declared, stomping down the ramp with a grin that was a little too smug for someone who’d nearly face-planted during the evac, “nothing brings people closer than a near-death experience! Team bonding, baby.”

“Tell that to the squad of clankers you flattened like pancakes,” Tech muttered, adjusting his goggles. “They didn’t seem especially enthusiastic about our cohesion.”

Behind them, Echo trudged down with his helmet tucked under one arm, glancing behind him for you. His expression softened the moment his eyes met yours. You were brushing ash off your tunic and tucking your lightsaber back into your belt, brow furrowed in focus as always—but you felt his gaze and looked up with the smallest smile.

“Nice work back there,” Echo said, and though his voice was soft, it cut through the banter around you. “You saved my shebs. Again.”

You shrugged, trying to hide the way your heart jumped at the way he looked at you—like you were the whole kriffing galaxy. “You would’ve done the same for me.”

“I already have,” he said, voice low, his smile a little crooked. You bumped shoulders with him, rolling your eyes with a grin that gave you away.

Hunter, catching the exchange from the edge of the ramp, raised a brow. “You two always this obvious?”

“Oh, it’s worse than that,” Wrecker chimed in, loud enough to turn heads. “She’s totally his girlfriend.”

You froze mid-step. Echo’s expression twitched like his brain had blue-screened for a second.

“I—what—Wrecker!” he hissed, ears practically glowing red.

Wrecker threw up his hands, unbothered. “What? Everyone sees it! I mean, c’mon! They were making goo-goo eyes while taking down that tank together. That’s not ‘standard Jedi–clone operational procedure,’ that’s ‘save-the-galaxy-together’ couple stuff!”

Crosshair snorted from where he leaned against the ship. “You’re all idiots,” he said flatly. “That’s unrealistic. She’s not just a Jedi—she’s Old Republic trained. The whole code is sacred thing, remember?”

You gave Crosshair a look and stepped forward with arms crossed, voice cool and amused. “So you’re saying I can’t be both a warrior and a woman with depth?”

Crosshair stared at you for a moment, blinked once, and turned away. “Didn’t say that.”

Echo cleared his throat and stepped between you and the others, half-shielding you like instinct. “Can we not discuss Jedi doctrine like we’re gossiping in the barracks?”

“Oh, now he’s shy,” Tech said, tilting his head.

Wrecker grinned at you. “She didn’t say no, though.”

“Wrecker—” Echo growled, but you touched his arm, and he stopped short.

You looked up at him, just for a second. “Let them talk. We know what this is.”

Echo studied you—carefully, gently—like he was afraid you’d vanish if he blinked too fast. Then he nodded, just once. “Yeah. We do.”

The team fell into a comfortable rhythm after that, still teasing, still tossing back jabs and laughs, but it all faded a little in your periphery as Echo walked beside you. And maybe the Jedi code was sacred. Maybe there were rules. But as the sun dipped low over the landing pad and he smiled down at you like you were the one thing anchoring him to this chaotic galaxy, you weren’t thinking about rules.

You were thinking: Maybe we can survive this. Together.

⸻

The stars outside the viewport blinked like distant memories. The Marauder hummed with its usual low thrum, the rest of the squad either asleep or pretending to be. It was one of those rare, fragile moments—when the galaxy felt like it was holding its breath, just long enough for two people to realize they weren’t alone in it.

Echo sat on one of the benches in the common room, armor stripped down to the basics, a cup of something warm in his hand. You stepped in barefoot, robes loose and hair still damp from a rushed rinse, like you were shedding the battlefield piece by piece.

He looked up. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

You shook your head, padding over to sit beside him. The silence between you was companionable, soft. You both knew how loud your thoughts got at night.

After a while, you pulled something from the inner pocket of your robes—a small, weathered talisman on a leather cord. Gold and deep bronze etched with faint runes, worn smooth by time and touch. Echo tilted his head.

“What’s that?”

You held it between your fingers for a second, then placed it gently in his hands.

“It’s… old. Really old,” you said. “It was given to me when I became a Padawan. Back long before the war, before the Jedi and the old Order became a memory. My master said it would keep me anchored. It’s seen every part of my life since—battlefields, meditations, exile, heartbreak, my Millenia long carbon freeze prisonment.”

Echo turned it over in his hand, thumb brushing the ancient symbols. “Why are you giving it to me?”

“Because I don’t think I need to be anchored anymore,” you said, voice quiet but sure. “Not in the past, anyway. You remind me that I’m still here. That I still get to be here. And if anyone should carry a piece of where I came from into the future… it’s you.”

His fingers stilled. He looked at you like you were some impossible thing—like someone who should’ve been gone centuries ago, yet was sitting beside him, breathing the same air, bleeding in the same war.

“I don’t know what to say,” he murmured.

You smiled softly. “Just don’t lose it.”

Echo slipped the talisman over his head carefully, reverently, and tucked it under his chest plate. When he looked back at you, there was something heavy in his eyes—something like wonder, something like love.

“You always talk like you’re a ghost,” he said. “But you’re not. You’re flesh and blood, and you’re here. With us. With me. You don’t have to drift anymore.”

Your heart caught. You reached up and brushed your fingertips against his jaw, and he leaned into it without hesitation.

“I don’t feel like a ghost when I’m with you,” you whispered. “I feel… alive.”

Echo leaned in, resting his forehead against yours, his breath warm. “Then let’s keep it that way.”

And in the stillness of the Marauder, with the stars watching in silence, it felt like maybe—just maybe—the galaxy wasn’t all war and death and shadows.

It could be this, too.

It could be you and him.

⸻

Part 1

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.”

TBB Echo x Senator!Reader

The Senate was silent—eerily so. Your voice echoed as you stood center-stage, the holocams rolling, senators holding their breath.

You stared up at the massive screen where Palpatine’s hologram flickered with dispassionate cruelty.

“You may rule through fear, Emperor. You may bend systems, strip rights, and silence voices. But the power you believe you wield is nothing more than mere arrogance, left unchecked for far too long. And every tyrant who’s mistaken fear for loyalty has eventually learned the same truth: fear fades. Resistance doesn’t.”

Gasps rippled through the chamber. One senator spilled their drink. Another ducked behind their chair like you’d just tossed a thermal detonator.

The Emperor said nothing. Just smiled.

You finished your speech, spine straight as a durasteel blade. And when you left the chamber, you knew your days were numbered.

~~~~~~

Stormtroopers swarmed the upper districts now. Rumors had spread fast. A senator going rogue? Publicly? That kind of dissent couldn’t go unpunished.

So you went to the one person you hoped still remembered how to keep people off the radar: Cid.

She responded with a single message:

“You’re lucky I owe you. Got a crew incoming. Don’t get dead before they get there.”

~~~~~~

Blasterfire lit up the alley as a squad of troopers chased you through the lower levels. One shot narrowly missed your shoulder as you turned a corner, lungs burning. You weren’t trained for this. Your boots slipped on the slick metal flooring—and you stumbled, crashing against a wall.

A trooper raised his blaster, finger tightening on the trigger—

Then a blue bolt slammed into his helmet.

You blinked. He crumpled. And standing just behind him, face tight with focus and eyes locked on you, was Echo.

“Senator,” he said calmly, extending his arm, “Time to go.”

You grabbed his hand, letting him haul you up.

“Am I glad to see you,” you breathed.

“I know,” he said, smirking slightly. “You’re welcome.”

More troopers rounded the corner, and Echo pulled you behind cover, activating his comm.

“Now would be a great time, Hunter.”

“Exit’s two blocks south. Wrecker’s waiting with the ship. Move fast.”

“Copy that.” Echo glanced at you. “Can you run?”

“I’m a senator, not a senator’s aide,” you snapped, brushing off your robes. “I’ll manage.”

“Then keep up.”

~~~~~~

Wrecker was waving them in, Omega already at the ship’s edge, hair windblown and face alight with curiosity.

“Is that her?” she asked loudly. “The senator who told the Emperor off to his face?”

“Yep,” Tech said, not looking up from his datapad. “I analyzed her speech. Statistically, she’s either incredibly brave or terminally reckless.”

“Those are not mutually exclusive,” Echo muttered.

You darted up the ramp beside him, chest heaving.

Omega grinned. “You’ve got guts.”

You gave her a breathless smile. “And you’ve got a very large clone glaring at me. Should I be worried?”

Wrecker beamed. “That’s my welcome face!”

Hunter approached, giving you a once-over. “You’re lucky Echo was close. Another second and you’d be space dust.”

You turned to Echo, heartbeat still thundering. “You saved my life.”

“Let’s make a habit of not needing that,” he replied, voice softer now. “But… yeah. I did.”

The ship lifted, and you finally allowed yourself to sink into the bench beside him, the weight of your speech, your betrayal of the Empire, and the sudden turn your life had taken crashing down on you.

“You’re not safe anymore,” Echo said after a beat. “They’ll hunt you.”

You met his gaze. “Then I’m in the right company, aren’t I?”

He nodded, his hand resting lightly on yours for a moment longer than necessary.

From across the ship, Omega whispered loudly to Wrecker: “Told you they’d be into each other.”

Wrecker: “Do I owe you credits again?!”

~~~~~~

The Marauder rumbled to a halt just outside Cid’s bar. It still smelled like sweat, spilled ale, and wet carpet. You wrinkled your nose as you stepped off the ship, scanning the place like a senator inspecting a back-alley establishment—which, to be fair, was exactly what this was.

“You sure this is the right place?” you muttered to Echo under your breath.

“Unfortunately,” he replied, offering a small smirk. “Welcome to the galaxy’s finest example of poor life choices and questionable hygiene.”

Cid looked up from behind the bar, munching on what looked like a pickled frog. “You made it. And with all your limbs. That’s new.”

You gave her a tight nod. “We need to talk.”

She waved her stubby fingers toward her office. “Go on then. Let’s discuss what this little favor is gonna cost you.”

As you disappeared behind the door, the Batch headed for a corner booth.

Wrecker slid in first, already eyeing the snacks Cid had laid out. “So…” he said around a mouthful of something crunchy, “Echo’s got a thing for the senator.”

Echo’s head snapped toward him. “What?!”

Tech adjusted his goggles without even glancing up. “Your heartrate elevated approximately twelve percent every time she spoke to you. Statistically speaking, that suggests attraction. Possibly infatuation.”

“I do not have a thing,” Echo muttered, looking around like someone might hear—besides the four people very obviously hearing.

Hunter raised an eyebrow. “You did dive in front of a blaster for her.”

“I would’ve done that for anyone.”

Wrecker grinned. “Yeah, but you didn’t look that heroic when you saved me last week.”

“That’s because you dropped an entire crate of detonators on your own foot.”

Omega slid into the seat beside Echo, kicking her legs casually. “She is really pretty.”

Echo stiffened. “Omega…”

“I saw the way you looked at her,” she said with that knowing look that made even Hunter flinch sometimes. “Like she was a sunset and you hadn’t seen one in a long time.”

Wrecker blinked. “Wow. That was poetic.”

Echo scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t—look, she’s a senator. I’m—”

“A clone with a heart,” Omega finished for him. “She saw it, too. The way she smiled at you? She likes you back.”

Echo opened his mouth, then shut it. Then sighed.

“I hate it when you do that.”

“I love it,” Omega chirped. “You should tell her.”

“I just saved her life. I’m not gonna flirt with her right after that.”

Hunter leaned back. “Might be the perfect time, actually. Emotions are high. Could work.”

Tech blinked. “Are we… encouraging romantic entanglements mid-fugitive status?”

Omega grinned. “Yes.”

Echo shook his head, cheeks tinged with color. “You’re all impossible.”

From behind them, the door to Cid’s office creaked open. You stepped out, looking just as poised and stubborn as you did in the Senate—but your eyes immediately found Echo’s across the cantina.

You offered a small, grateful smile. “Still alive, thanks to you.”

Echo stood, clearing his throat. “Anytime.”

Omega elbowed him hard as you approached.

“Ask her about sunsets!” she whispered.

As you made your way back to the booth, you caught the tail end of Omega’s whispering to Echo, her grin too wide and mischievous.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Sunsets?” you asked, stepping closer. “What about sunsets?”

Echo stiffened, clearly scrambling for an explanation. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth, only for Omega to literally jump into the conversation.

“Echo wanted to show you the sunset!” she blurted out, her eyes sparkling with that cheeky mischief only she could get away with. “He said they’re beautiful on the outer rim. He even said you might like them.”

Echo turned bright red, his mouth working soundlessly for a moment as his brain tried to catch up to Omega’s open confession. “I—wait, I—no… That’s not what I said—”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped your lips at his obvious discomfort. “Sunsets, huh?” You cocked an eyebrow, leaning on the edge of the table. “That’s a pretty romantic gesture for a soldier.”

Echo quickly waved his hands, as though trying to physically push the words back into his mouth. “It’s not like that. I—I just—Omega, you—you…!”

Omega leaned back in her seat, arms folded with the smug satisfaction of someone who knew exactly what they’d just done. “You should definitely go watch a sunset with her,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s perfect. You’re both already really good at staring at the sky.”

You gave Echo a playful look. “Well, I don’t mind the idea of a sunset. It’s been a while since I’ve actually seen one.”

Echo exhaled sharply, his gaze dropping to the table, clearly overwhelmed by the situation. His usual calm and composed demeanor was nowhere to be found.

“I—uh—I—” He paused, his hand running over his short-cropped hair in frustration. “I mean… if you want to, I could show you one. I’ve got some good spots, but I really don’t—uh—expect you to—”

Wrecker, always the instigator, leaned forward from the opposite booth. “You wanted to show her a sunset, Echo. Sounds like a date to me.”

“Wrecker!” Echo groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I’m not asking her out—!”

“Well, someone should,” Wrecker grinned. “It’s a good idea. A beautiful sunset and all that. You know, romantic-like.”

Omega crossed her arms and gave Echo an exaggerated side-eye. “You’re really bad at this.”

You watched the whole exchange with a lighthearted smile, clearly amused by how Echo was fidgeting like he was trying to dig his way out of a hole he’d accidentally fallen into. Finally, you leaned in, lowering your voice to something playful and teasing.

“If you’re really offering to show me a sunset, Echo, I’ll take you up on it,” you said, smirking as you watched his eyes widen in disbelief. “But I’m not making any promises about it being romantic.”

Echo blinked, clearly struggling to hide his relief. “Good. Yeah, good. I can do that. I mean—I can show you the sunset. That’s… normal, right?”

Omega gave him a thumbs up from across the table. “Normal! Totally normal.”

Hunter chuckled from the booth. “I don’t think it’s ever been normal with you, Echo.”

“I’m starting to realize that,” Echo muttered, shooting Omega a glare that barely had any heat behind it. “You’re lucky I like you, kid.”

“You’re welcome,” Omega chirped, her eyes glimmering with the kind of satisfaction only a matchmaker could feel.

~~~~~~~

You followed Echo out of the cantina and into the wilds of the Outer Rim, the two of you walking side by side in the fading light. It wasn’t a long journey, but Echo was unusually quiet, his usual confident stride now hesitant. You glanced over at him, trying to gauge whether he was just as nervous as he seemed.

“So,” you began, attempting to break the silence, “this sunset better be worth all the buildup.”

Echo glanced at you, his face turning slightly pink as he looked away quickly. “I mean, yeah, it’s a good spot,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s peaceful. Not a lot of people know about it.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than you.

You smiled softly. “You must really like this place. It’s hard to believe a soldier like you would be into something so… serene.”

“Hey, even soldiers need some quiet,” Echo replied, his voice tinged with embarrassment. “I’ve seen enough battlefields to last a lifetime. This? This is… different.”

As you reached a ridge overlooking a vast expanse of orange and purple sky, you stopped. The sun was beginning its slow descent, casting long shadows and bathing everything in golden light. The view was incredible. You couldn’t deny that Echo had chosen well.

“This… is beautiful,” you said quietly, letting the moment settle around you.

Echo stood a few feet away, glancing at the sky, but you could tell he wasn’t really focused on it. He fidgeted with his hands, his posture stiff, as though unsure of what to do with himself.

“Yeah. It is,” he said softly, though he didn’t seem to be looking at the sunset himself. His eyes kept darting back to you, and he swallowed hard.

A beat passed, then another, the two of you standing there in the stillness of the moment.

“So,” you began again, a teasing smile tugging at your lips, “Omega told me you’ve been staring at me like I’m the sunset or something. I’m starting to think she might’ve been onto something.”

Echo let out a strangled sound, something between a cough and a nervous laugh, and quickly turned away, his scomp fumbling with the edge of his armor. “I—look, I didn’t mean for her to—Omega… she has a way of—”

You laughed, your voice light and airy. “It’s fine, Echo. I’m just teasing.”

“Right,” he muttered, scratching his head. “You… you’re teasing. Yeah.”

The silence between you both grew, but now it was different—quieter, more relaxed, despite the awkward tension that had settled in. You couldn’t help but enjoy the strange warmth in the air.

Finally, Echo broke the quiet with a heavy sigh. “I’m really bad at this.”

“Bad at what?”

“At… this,” he gestured vaguely, not looking at you. “At not being awkward. You know, with people. I mean, I spent most of my life with clones, and—well, we didn’t exactly do sunsets.”

“Yeah, I imagine that would be difficult,” you said, your voice softer now. You could see how much this mattered to him, how much he was trying to make the moment right.

“You probably think I’m an idiot,” he mumbled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“No,” you said quickly, walking closer to him. “Not at all. You’re just… not used to doing this.”

Echo didn’t meet your eyes. “And I’m not great at… not being awkward around someone I think is way out of my league.”

That stopped you cold. You blinked, processing the words. “Out of your league?”

Echo shrugged, pulling at his sleeve nervously. “You’re a senator. You could have anyone you want. And I’m just—well, I’m just me. A soldier.”

You took a small step closer, closing the gap between the two of you. “Echo,” you said gently, your voice soft but firm. “I’m here because I want to be here. Because I trust you.”

His eyes flicked to yours, searching your face as though looking for any sign that you were just being kind. But what he found was sincerity. You meant it.

The sun dipped lower, the sky ablaze with colors, and Echo took a deep breath, finally meeting your gaze. “I’m really bad at this… but I’m glad you came anyway.”

You smiled and stepped forward, your hand brushing against his—just enough for him to notice. “Me too, Echo. Me too.”

You and Echo walked back in silence, though the tension between you was different now—softer, less painful. The cantina was as busy as before, the dim lights casting long shadows across the floor. The rest of the Batch was already there, and as soon as you and Echo entered, the teasing began.

Wrecker was the first to speak. “So,” he began with a huge grin, “how was the sunset?”

Echo shot him a glare. “I didn’t—we didn’t—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wrecker laughed. “You two were just looking at the sky, right?”

You gave him a playful side-eye. “Why don’t you ask Omega? She’s the one who knows all about sunsets.”

Omega was sitting at the booth, her feet kicked up, looking entirely too smug for someone her age. “I told you it would be perfect,” she said, glancing at Echo with a knowing look.

Hunter raised an eyebrow. “So, Echo, what happened with the sunset? You get all the way out there just to not—”

Echo groaned and covered his face with his hand. “I’m not answering any of you.”

Tech, ever the neutral party, smiled faintly. “I believe this is the point where you’re supposed to express how much you enjoyed the company of your… companion.”

“Shut up, Tech,” Echo grumbled.

Omega leaned in, looking at you, then at Echo, her grin impossibly wide. “Did you kiss her, Echo?”

Echo nearly choked on his drink. “What? No! We—we—”

“I’m just saying,” Omega continued innocently, “there was some serious chemistry, and I don’t think you’ll be able to ignore it for much longer.”

“Omega,” Echo hissed, looking at her like she’d just dropped a thermal detonator at his feet.

But you just laughed, the tension from earlier melting away. “She’s not wrong, Echo. You’re pretty easy to read.”

Echo could only groan in response, his face as red as the setting sun.

A/N

I kinda hate this tbh, but I had an idea but then I had like a million other ideas while writing this and I feel like it’s kinda mix matched.

Hunter x Pabu Reader

⸻

Pabu Festival Night

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting golden light over the sea as the village of Pabu came alive with lanterns, laughter, and the mouthwatering scent of street food. Strings of glowing paper lights swayed between buildings, and music floated through the air—something old, joyous, and deeply local.

You were elbow-deep in flour and slightly burnt noodles at a stall near the center square, laughing as a group of children tried to help and made an absolute mess of everything. Your hair stuck to your face, there was something sticky on your pants, and your smile had never been wider.

Hunter leaned against a post nearby, arms crossed, eyes locked on you like you were the only person on the planet. His squad hovered beside him, all wearing variations of amused smirks—except Tech, who was deeply invested in analyzing the music’s rhythm pattern with furrowed brows.

“Stars, he’s doing it again,” Echo said, nudging Hunter’s side with his elbow.

“Doing what?” Hunter muttered, not looking away.

“Staring at her like she’s a dessert he’s too afraid to order,” Wrecker said with a laugh. “Come on, Sarge, just tell her she looks pretty with noodles in her hair.”

“She does,” Hunter said under his breath, then quickly shook his head. “Shut up.”

“She’s going to think you’re broken,” Tech added dryly. “Most humans engage in verbal communication when expressing attraction.”

“You’re all insufferable,” Hunter growled.

“Hey, Hunter!” Omega’s voice chirped brightly, cutting through the banter as she skipped over, cheeks pink with excitement. “Did you ask her yet?”

Wrecker snorted. “Maker, Omega, we’ve talked about subtlety.”

“Oh! Right,” Omega grinned, then leaned up conspiratorially, stage-whispering way too loudly, “You should ask her though. She wants you to. I asked.”

Hunter stared at her, stunned. “You what?”

“Matchmaking,” she said proudly. “Crosshair said you’d drag your feet forever so I thought I’d help.”

“Crosshair’s not even here.”

“Exactly. I’m doing his part too.”

Before Hunter could come up with a coherent response, you turned and spotted them. Your smile brightened when your eyes landed on him.

“Hey! You guys just gonna lurk or actually join the party?”

Hunter stood straighter, clearing his throat. “We’re—uh—considering our options.”

“I’m voting for food and dancing!” Omega beamed, grabbing Hunter’s hand and dragging him forward. “Come on, she saved us noodles.”

⸻

Later, By the Dancing Lanterns

You swayed barefoot on the warm stone path, clutching a sweet drink in one hand and laughing as locals pulled strangers into their dancing circles. The music had picked up, and lights flickered off the sea like tiny stars had dropped into the water.

You spotted Hunter hanging at the edge of it all, looking like a soldier at the edge of a battlefield he didn’t quite understand.

You approached him slowly, grinning up at him as you offered your hand. “Dance with me?”

He blinked. “I don’t dance.”

“You’ve got enhanced reflexes and perfect rhythm,” you said, teasing. “You’ll be fine. I’ll even go easy on you.”

A beat passed. His eyes searched yours, and then—to the shock of everyone within fifty feet—he took your hand.

The music wrapped around you like warmth as he followed you into the circle, stiff at first, focused too hard on every step.

“You’re thinking about it too much,” you whispered, drawing closer. “Let go. It’s just you and me.”

His hand slid to your waist, a bit hesitant, a bit bold. “Easier said than done.”

“Well,” you murmured, brushing your fingers along his chest, “if it helps… I’ve wanted to touch you like this for a long time.”

He exhaled sharply, eyes darkening. “You really know how to mess with a guy’s focus.”

“I have excellent timing.”

He finally smiled—small, crooked, but real. “You do.”

You moved together, slower now, drifting into your own little orbit as the circle of dancers spun around you. The music faded into the background, and all that remained was the warmth of his hands, the steadiness of his breath, and the unspoken pull that had been building for months.

⸻

The festival had died down, lanterns bobbing on the sea, distant laughter echoing through the trees. You and Hunter sat by the water, his arm loosely around your shoulders, your head resting against him.

“Didn’t think I’d ever have this,” he said quietly.

You turned toward him. “What?”

“This kind of life. Something soft. Someone like you.”

Your heart twisted. “You deserve this. All of it.”

His fingers brushed against yours, then threaded together slowly. “I used to think needing someone made me weak.”

“And now?”

He looked at you, voice low. “Now I think it makes me human.”

You leaned in, letting your lips brush against his. “Took you long enough.”

From somewhere up the hill, Wrecker’s voice bellowed: “Pay up! I told you they’d kiss before midnight!”

Omega cheered. “You’re welcome!”

Hunter groaned and buried his face in your shoulder. “They’re never letting this go.”

“Good,” you smiled. “Neither am I.”

⸻

Arc Trooper Echo x Old Republic Jedi Reader

Before the War, Before the Fall...

You were never supposed to be here.

Once, long before the clone army ever existed, you were a Jedi Knight of the Old Republic. A warrior of the High Order, trained in the arts of peace and battle alike. Your robes were stitched from tradition, your saber forged in a time when the galaxy still believed in balance. You fought in the Mandalorian conflicts, aided in the fallout of Sith uprisings, and stood beside legends long turned to dust.

And then, during a critical mission—classified even by High Council standards—you were frozen in carbonite for protection, hidden away on an unmarked moon. Preserved in silence. Time passed. Empires fell. Republics reformed.

You were forgotten.

Until General Skywalker found you.

Woken from carbon stasis nearly a thousand years later, you emerged into a war-torn galaxy so alien, it barely recognized you as Jedi. The robes were the same. The Code had survived in pieces. But the people... *they* were different.

Especially the clones.

You had never seen soldiers bred for war. The first time you met the 501st, they moved as one—disciplined, deadly, proud. But each man had a spark of something unique. Echo's spark shone brightest to you.

ARC Trooper Echo, all calm focus and sharp wit. Loyal to a fault. Quietly brave. There was a warmth beneath his helmet that reminded you of someone you lost long ago.

And over time, in the stolen spaces between battles and strategy briefings, you found yourself seeking him out. And he—hesitantly, almost shyly—did the same.

You shared jokes, glances, meditations by moonlight. Nothing official. Not even a kiss. Just the ache of something growing where no roots should've taken hold.

---

**Now...**

The hangar echoed with the sound of carbon-freeze generators.

You stood near the chamber platform, arms folded, watching the 501st prepare for the Citadel mission. An infiltration like no other. High risk. No guarantee of return.

Your heart beat in time with the distant hiss of steam. You'd been in carbonite before. You wouldn't wish it on anyone.

"You really want to go through with this?" you asked as Echo approached, helmet tucked under his arm.

He smirked. "I've seen worse."

You raised an eyebrow. "Really? *Worse* than being flash-frozen and dropped into a fortress built to kill Jedi?"

He shrugged with a boyish tilt of his head. "When you put it like that..."

You stepped closer, lowering your voice. "I don't like this mission. Something feels... off."

Echo's smile faded just slightly. "I know. But we follow orders."

You stared at him a long moment, eyes locking with his.

"I've had my fair share of carbon-freeze," you said softly, a wry smile tugging at your lips. "Trust me—it's overrated. Don't make it a habit."

Echo chuckled, but there was something in his expression—hesitation, maybe. Or hope. His fingers brushed yours briefly.

"If I don't make it back—"

"You *will*," you cut in.

He held your gaze. "Still. If I don't... I'm glad it was you."

The words hung in the air like an unsent message. You swallowed the ache in your throat.

"I'll be waiting," you whispered.

Then the chamber hissed open, and Echo stepped inside. You watched as he was encased in freezing mist—familiar, haunting. And then he was still.

---

They returned.

Most of them.

But not him.

You heard the news with numb detachment. "Echo didn't make it." Skywalker didn't meet your eyes when he said it. Fives couldn't speak at all.

You were handed Echo's pauldron. Burnt. Cracked.

But the Force...

The Force *whispered* something else.

In meditation, beneath the endless hum of the ship, you reached for that flicker—the warm, stubborn light of him. It was faint. Weak. But not extinguished.

You pressed your hand to your heart and said nothing.

Because you knew.

*Echo was still alive.*

And whatever the cost... you'd find him.

---

You couldn't let it go.

No matter how much time passed, or how many battles you fought alongside the 501st, there was something you couldn't shake—a gnawing feeling deep in your soul. Echo was out there. You knew it. The Force whispered it to you every time you closed your eyes.

You felt him.

The report had come through the 501st's channels—Echo was alive, but he was a prisoner. He had been taken to Skako Minor and reprogrammed, twisted into something... else. A broken version of the man he had once been. But you didn't care. You would bring him back. You would save him, no matter the cost.

Rex was right beside you, his unwavering loyalty to Echo just as strong as your own. The two of you, separated by a galaxy of uncertainty and destruction, had always understood each other in ways the others couldn't. Rex had never let go of his brother, and neither had you.

And now, you couldn't help but feel the heavy weight of the decision as you prepared for the mission. You weren't just doing this for Echo anymore. You were doing it for both of you—him and you. For the love of a comrade, a soldier, a friend, and perhaps, deep down, someone more.

"I won't rest until we find him," you whispered to Rex before the mission began.

Rex gave you a stern nod, though his eyes were soft with the same grief you carried. "We're not stopping until we bring him home."

You shared a glance with him—a silent understanding of what this meant. Echo had always been there, in the trenches with them, in the hardest of battles. But now, it was different. The question of who he was had morphed into something unrecognizable. Would the man you both knew still be the same when you found him?

---

The mission was critical, and time was running out.

You, along with Rex, Anakin Skywalker, and the Bad Batch, had infiltrated the outpost on Skako Minor. The Separatists had taken Echo—one of the finest ARC Troopers—and turned him into a prisoner, forced to serve their twisted agenda. You, however, weren't going to let that happen. Not if you could help it.

Echo was still alive. He had to be. You could feel it.

The journey to the outpost had been a long and difficult one, but now, standing on the precipice of their base, you knew what needed to be done. You had trained with Echo, fought beside him. He was family, and you weren't about to lose him to the war.

The place was cold, mechanical, and sterile—almost too quiet for comfort. It felt like a graveyard. But the faintest sound of movement ahead cut through the silence.

You turned, locking eyes with Rex. His jaw was set, his gaze firm. Beside him, Anakin stood, ready for anything. And then, there was Echo.

But he wasn't the same.

There he was—strapped into an array of machines, wires trailing from his body, his face emotionless. The pain of seeing him like this nearly broke you in that moment, but you knew it wasn't over. He was still Echo.

"Echo," Rex called softly, stepping forward. "We've got you, buddy. We're getting you out of here."

For a moment, there was nothing but the hum of machines and the silence of the outpost. Then, a flicker of movement. Echo's head turned slowly, his eyes blank, as if the man you once knew was buried deep inside somewhere, and this was just the shell.

You stepped forward, your heart racing in your chest. "Echo? Can you hear me?" Your voice was calm, but it cracked with the emotion you could no longer contain. You were here. You had found him.

Slowly, Echo's lips curled into a small, dry smile—familiar, but tinged with something distant.

"You know, I was starting to get used to this place," Echo's voice was robotic, distant. "It's better than the barracks, but I think I could've done without the wires."

You laughed softly, despite the ache in your chest. "You always did have a way with words. Still, this is no place for you. We're taking you back, Echo. You belong with us."

Echo's gaze flickered toward you briefly, his eyes dull but still alive with some trace of recognition. "You... came for me," he muttered, as though trying to process the reality of it.

"You know we would," you said, your voice firm, yet gentle. "You're one of us, Echo. You don't leave your squad behind."

But Echo's face darkened, his expression turning pained. "I'm not the same anymore," he said quietly, almost regretfully. "They've done something to me. I don't know if I can go back to being who I was."

The words hit you hard. But you refused to back down. "That doesn't matter. You're still the same person, Echo. You've always been there for us. We are still here for you."

Echo shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving the floor. "I don't know... I don't think I can go back to being that soldier. I've changed."

Rex stepped forward, his voice low but commanding. "You're more than what they've made you, Echo. You've always been more than that

For a moment, Echo seemed to consider this, his eyes moving between you and Rex. But then, he shook his head slowly.

"I don't know if I can go back to who I was," he said softly, his voice tinged with regret.

Rex's hand clenched into a fist. "You don't have to go back. We're here for you, Echo. We'll fight for you."

Anakin stepped forward, his voice calm but commanding. "We'll help you, Echo. We're not leaving anyone behind."

Echo's expression remained stoic, but you could see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

"Maybe... maybe I'm not the man you want me to be," he whispered. "Maybe I'm not that soldier anymore."

The pain in Rex's eyes was palpable, but his voice was resolute. "You're not alone, Echo. You never were. And we're not leaving without you."

The escape was chaotic.

Once Echo was freed from the machine bindings, the alarms blared throughout the facility. There was no time to waste. You, Rex, Anakin, and the Bad Batch fought your way out, blasters blazing, all while Echo struggled to regain his bearings. His movements were stiff, his mind clouded from the reprogramming, but with every passing moment, you could see him coming back to himself—albeit slowly.

It was Anakin who led the charge through the outpost's corridors, his strategic mind piecing together their escape route even as enemy fire rained down on them. Rex covered you, his blaster raised and steady, while you kept your focus on Echo, guiding him through the madness.

"You're with us, Echo. We'll get you out of here," you said, trying to keep him calm. He didn't respond, but the faintest nod was all you needed.

When you reached the hangar, the Bad Batch took their positions, covering the exits and keeping the Separatists at bay. Echo was stumbling, but he kept moving forward, a faint glimmer of the soldier he once was starting to re-emerge. You didn't know if he would ever be the same again, but for now, he was with you—and that was all that mattered.

"Keep moving, Echo," you said as you pushed him toward the ship.

"I'm with you," he muttered, his voice rough but steady. "I'll never leave you behind."

Finally, after what felt like hours of intense combat, you made it to the ship. The engines roared to life, and the transport shot off into the atmosphere, away from the chaos of Skako Minor.

As you all settled into your seats, the adrenaline of the escape began to wear off, and the weight of what you'd just witnessed settled in. Echo was alive, but he was still so far from being the man you remembered. The wires, the reprogramming, the suffering—it was all etched into him in ways you couldn't yet fully understand.

But you were determined to help him heal. You didn't care what it took— and you wouldn't leave him behind again.

- - -

The chaos of the mission on Skako Minor had finally settled, leaving an overwhelming sense of relief in its wake. The Marauder, the ship piloted by the Bad Batch, now cut through the stars as it headed towards the Republic fleet. It was a rough ride—no surprise there, considering the crew—but it was a comforting one. There was a sense of familiarity with the Bad Batch's eccentricities, their usual banter filling the air around you. However, the most comforting part of all was Echo, sitting across from you.

It had been a long and arduous rescue, but Echo was finally free—physically, at least. The mental scars of his time with the Separatists would take longer to heal.

Echo was seated across from you, leaning back slightly in his seat, his expression distant. His posture was less rigid than usual, but you could see the storm behind his eyes. The escape had been harrowing, and he was still processing everything.

Wrecker, the ever-vibrant and boisterous member of the Bad Batch, was rummaging around in the back, most likely looking for snacks. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say we were all a little too quiet today," he said with his signature grin, tossing a bag of chips to Tech, who caught it with precision.

Tech raised an eyebrow but accepted the snack. "We've just been through a rather intense operation, Wrecker. A little silence isn't a bad thing."

Meanwhile, Hunter leaned against the wall near the cockpit, his piercing eyes scanning the ship's systems, though his attention occasionally drifted toward you and Echo. You knew he respected Echo's capabilities, but you also suspected that he had noticed the bond growing between the two of you.

Rex, too, had been quietly observing, but it was clear from his relaxed posture that he was relieved. Everyone had come out of the mission alive, but the tension was far from gone.

You turned your attention back to Echo, noticing how his eyes occasionally flickered toward the viewport. The stars outside were nothing compared to the turmoil inside him, and it hurt you to see him struggling.

You shifted in your seat and, without thinking, reached across the aisle to gently nudge his arm. "You know, I've had my fair share of carbon freezing," you joked softly, trying to lighten the mood. "So I can't say I'm jealous of you getting to do it again."

Echo blinked, looking at you as a quiet smile tugged at his lips. "I think I've had enough of it for a lifetime," he said with a soft chuckle. "That last time wasn't exactly a vacation."

Your heart fluttered at the sound of his voice, the way the tension in his shoulders relaxed. You shared a brief moment of eye contact before he looked back at the stars, and you took the opportunity to close the distance just slightly, your hand brushing against his. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes in that quiet moment.

The Marauder continued its journey through the void, the hum of the ship's engines filling the air. But it wasn't just the ship that seemed to hum now—it was the quiet connection between you and Echo, something that had always been there, unspoken. The bond between the two of you felt more tangible now, as if the events of the mission had brought you even closer together.

Wrecker, still in the back, called out over his shoulder, "Hey, you two going to just stare at each other the whole ride, or are we finally going to get a real conversation out of you?"

Echo let out a quiet laugh, his eyes flicking to you with a playful, almost sheepish expression. "I think we're getting there."

You couldn't help but grin at the playful teasing, but your heart was racing. A brief glance passed between you, and for just a moment, you felt like the weight of everything—the war, the danger, the mission—faded into the background. It was just you and him, the connection between you two solidifying in that quiet space.

Echo's voice was lower now, more intimate as he leaned slightly closer. "I don't know how to say this, but... I'm glad you were here. I don't think I could have made it through this without you."

Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you didn't know what to say. The words were too big to express, but the warmth in your chest was enough to convey everything.

"You don't have to say anything," you replied quietly, your voice barely a whisper. "I'm just... happy you're safe."

Echo gave a small smile before his thumb brushed against the back of your hand, sending a flutter through your stomach. "Safe, but not unscathed."

The words lingered between you, but this time, it didn't feel like an obstacle. It felt like a truth you were both starting to accept. For the first time in what seemed like forever, Echo wasn't just a soldier you fought beside. He was something more. Someone more.

- - -

When the Marauder finally docked with the Republic fleet, the hangar bay was filled with the usual bustle of activity. You all disembarked, the quiet tension of the mission still hanging in the air. Everyone's expressions were marked by the weight of what had just happened.

Echo, though physically alive and well, still seemed lost in his thoughts. The Bad Batch, as usual, carried on with their typical behavior, but there was a more subdued air about them. Hunter gave a curt nod of approval as you all made your way toward the command center.

As you walked together, Echo's hand brushed against yours again, a simple, tender touch that made your heart skip. You looked at him, your breath catching in your throat.

"Well, I guess we're back," you said with a light smile. "Not exactly how I imagined the rescue would go."

Echo smirked, his fingers lingering on yours.

Your heart swelled at the softness in his eyes as he looked down at you. You couldn't help the smile that spread across your face, the affection clear in your gaze.

Before either of you could speak again, Rex came up beside you, giving you a teasing look. "Hey, I don't know what's going on between you two, but I'm pretty sure you're both walking into a warzone if you don't get it together soon."

Echo chuckled, his face reddening just a little. "Rex is right, you know. Maybe we should take some time to... figure things out."

You nodded, your heart racing. "I think that's a good idea."

Wrecker, who had been trailing behind, chimed in from a distance. "Oh great! Another love story brewing on this ship. I hope it's not as dramatic as the last one!"

You and Echo exchanged a playful glance, both of you rolling your eyes at Wrecker. Amused but not wanting to pry on the Batch's secret love lives.

With your hand still in his, Echo leaned in slightly, his voice soft. "I'm not going anywhere. Not this time."

You smiled, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace settle over you. "Good. Because I don't think I could do this without you."

The two of you walked side by side toward the command center, the quiet between you now a comfortable one. You had no idea what the future held, but in that moment, you knew one thing for sure—you and Echo had finally found something worth holding onto.

_______

Part 2