“You Talk Too Much (And I Like It)”

i finished playing republic commando last week and just cannot stop thinking ab them

Thranduil weekly bitch mood 🫣

POV: Bad Batch Season 3 Finale

Endorsed by bestie @hatzlanna-blog 🌝

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a Bad Batch x Fem!Reader where they haven’t realized how much they like her and having her apart of the team because they didn’t want to get attached but then they see her with other clones having fun and being tactical and huggy with them. I’m a sucker for jealous tropes and the “she’s ours” stuff! Thank you! Xx

“Ours”

The Bad Batch x Fem!Reader

Featuring: Commander Wolffe, Boost, Sinker (104th)

⸻

The Bad Batch didn’t realize how much they liked having you around—until you weren’t just around them anymore.

You’d been reassigned temporarily to assist the 104th Battalion for a joint operation, something about terrain recon and hostile base infiltration. The job was meant to be routine. Easy. Quick. But it had stretched to three weeks, and that was three weeks too long for Clone Force 99.

“She’s fine,” Tech said for the third time that day, eyes on his datapad but noticeably less focused than usual.

“Of course she’s fine,” Crosshair muttered. “She’s annoying. Won’t shut up. Talks too much. Laughs at stupid jokes.”

“She does make the barracks less quiet,” Echo added, but his words sounded more like a confession than a complaint.

Hunter remained quiet, brooding in the corner, arms crossed. Wrecker finally broke the silence.

“I miss her.”

No one argued.

⸻

When they finally returned to Anaxes to regroup, they weren’t expecting to find you on the tarmac—leaning against a gunship, laughing with Commander Wolffe and his men.

You had your arm slung around Sinker’s shoulder, mid-sparring banter, sweat-slicked and flushed from training. Boost was tossing a ration bar at you like it was a long-running inside joke, and Wolffe—stoic, grumpy Wolffe—was standing beside you with the faintest upward tug at the corner of his mouth.

You laughed and said something that made the entire squad snort.

Wrecker stopped dead in his tracks. “Wait—are they hugging her?”

Crosshair’s scowl darkened. “Why the hell is she touching Sinker?”

“She’s laughing,” Echo muttered. “At his joke.”

Hunter’s jaw ticked. “Let’s go.”

⸻

You saw them before they could storm up and cause a scene—which, let’s be real, was already inevitable.

“Hey!” you called out cheerfully, waving them over. “Look who finally decided to show up. I was beginning to think you all forgot about me.”

“We didn’t,” Hunter said. The rest of them were staring daggers past you at the Wolfpack.

Wolffe raised a brow and drawled, “We took real good care of her. Didn’t we, boys?”

“Too good,” Sinker smirked. “She’s basically one of us now.”

“She is one of us,” Boost added, throwing his arm around your shoulders with obnoxious ease. “Got the bite to match.”

You didn’t see it, but every member of the Bad Batch visibly twitched.

“She’s not a stray,” Crosshair hissed, stepping forward.

“Could’ve fooled us,” Wolffe shot back, “considering how quick you were to let her slip away.”

“Wasn’t our choice,” Tech said stiffly.

“You sure?” Sinker smirked. “Didn’t seem like you were fighting too hard to keep her.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Okay, woah, no testosterone fights on the landing pad, please.”

Wrecker pointed dramatically. “You hugged him!”

You blinked. “You’ve hugged me!”

“Yeah but that’s different!” he whined.

“Why?” you challenged.

Silence.

Hunter stepped forward, voice lower now. “Because you’re ours.”

Your breath caught.

Wolffe’s grin turned downright wolfish. “Took ‘em long enough.”

You looked between both squads, caught between amusement and surprise. “So let me get this straight… the 104th is adopting me, the Bad Batch is reclaiming me, and I didn’t even get a say?”

“You always get a say,” Hunter said, quieter now. “But we want you to know how we feel.”

“And how’s that?”

Wrecker was first. “I missed you.”

“I hated not having you around,” Echo added.

“Everything was quiet,” Tech admitted.

“You’re mine,” Crosshair said, almost growled. “Ours.”

Your eyes flicked to Wolffe and his boys.

Wolffe shrugged. “Guess we’ll let you go this time.”

Sinker grinned. “But if they mess up, you know where to find us.”

You snorted. “What is this, the clone version of a custody battle?”

Boost winked. “Only if it means you come back for visitation rights.”

You laughed. “Alright, alright. I’ll go home. But I am visiting the 104th again. You guys are a riot.”

Hunter stepped closer, head tilting. “As long as you come back to us.”

You smiled, softening. “Always.”

The air between you and the Batch shifted—less tension, more heat, more home. Hunter didn’t touch you, not yet, but his presence lingered close, electric.

You turned back toward Wolffe and the others, grinning. “Thanks for everything, boys.”

Sinker gave you a two-finger salute. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“Yeah,” Boost chimed in, winking. “Just remember which pack took you in first.”

You rolled your eyes, walking backward toward your original squad. “You’re all insufferable.”

“And you love it,” Wolffe called after you.

echoed behind you.

Then, low—too low for most ears, but not for Hunter’s enhanced senses—Wolffe muttered to his boys, voice almost casual:

“She’s still got a bit of wolf in her now. Let’s hope they can keep up.”

Hunter stopped walking.

His head tilted just enough to catch the last of the words. Not angry. Not threatened. Just… cold.

Possessive.

His jaw flexed.

Crosshair noticed first. “Problem?”

Hunter didn’t answer right away. His gaze flicked to your back—laughing with Wrecker about something stupid—and then back to the 104th retreating into the barracks.

“No,” he said finally. “No problem.”

But when he looked forward again, his voice was steel-wrapped velvet.

“They can howl all they want.”

He caught up to you in two strides.

“We’re the ones she’s running with.”

Over ten years of reading fanfics and I still have yet to come across a single oc/reader insert that was actually well written

Can’t tell if this is meant to be an insult or…?

Either way I’m happy to recommend a few fics that I personally enjoy.

- Good soldiers follow orders

“The Quiet Rebellion”

Captain Howzer x Twi’lek Reader

⸻

Freedom was a strange thing.

You could be chained for years—shackled, broken, silenced—and still not feel as free as you did when you sprinted through the jungle with a stolen blaster and your heart racing like it had somewhere to go.

You’d fought to be here.

Fought to exist.

Now you fought for something.

Cham Syndulla had given you a cause. A home. A voice. And you’d die before you let anyone take that away again.

Which made your situation with Captain Howzer… complicated.

You first saw him standing tall in the Ryloth city square, surrounded by clone troopers in gleaming armor. He wasn’t barking orders like the others. He watched. Measured. Thought.

You hated him immediately.

Until you didn’t.

The first time you really spoke, it was because of Hera.

“Put me down!” Hera screamed, dangling from the edge of a roof she wasn’t supposed to be on.

You scrambled to reach her—but Howzer got there first, catching her mid-fall and cradling her against his chest.

“Hera,” he said, calm and soft, “you alright, kid?”

She blinked at him. “Yeah… you have a really strong arm.”

“Perks of the job.”

You expected him to arrest her. Lecture her. Instead, he handed her off to you, nodded once, and said:

“She’s bold. Reminds me of someone.”

It was the first time he looked at you like he saw you—not a rebel, not a threat, but someone.

You didn’t know how to feel about that.

⸻

Weeks passed.

The Empire’s grip tightened. Ryloth tensed. So did you.

But Howzer—he didn’t act like a loyal dog. He asked questions. Protected civilians. Argued with Admiral Rampart in front of everyone.

And when you crossed paths again—this time in secret, near an old Separatist outpost—you confronted him.

“You gonna shoot me now, Captain?” you asked, blaster raised.

He didn’t flinch. “No. I came to talk.”

You laughed bitterly. “Clones don’t talk. They obey.”

“I’m trying not to.”

That stopped you cold.

You lowered your weapon, cautiously.

“I’ve seen what the Empire is doing,” he said, stepping closer. “I don’t agree with it. I think you don’t either.”

“I was a slave,” you spat. “I know what tyranny looks like.”

He didn’t argue.

“I’ve been watching you,” he added. “Fighting. Protecting people. Risking everything for them. You don’t run. You don’t hide. You remind me of why I started wearing this armor in the first place.”

Your breath hitched.

And just like that, the tension between you snapped—not with violence, but something gentler. Warmer.

Something that felt like understanding.

⸻

From then on, you met in secret.

He smuggled you information—troop movements, transport schedules, weak points in the blockade.

You brought Hera to some of the meetings. She liked to sit on a crate, Chopper at her side, giving snarky commentary.

“Are you two in love yet?” she asked one night, kicking her legs.

You choked on your drink. Howzer actually blushed.

“I—I don’t think soldiers are allowed to be in love,” he said awkwardly.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not a soldier,” you muttered.

Hera just shrugged. “I think you should kiss. You look at her like my dad looks at my mom.”

You and Howzer shared a long, stunned silence. Chopper beeped something crude.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Howzer muttered.

But later, when the night was quiet and you were alone with him, the firelight dancing off his armor, you finally asked,

“Why are you doing this? Risking everything?”

He looked at you, eyes soft, jaw clenched.

“Because you showed me something real,” he said. “And I want to fight for it—for you—instead of some banner that doesn’t mean anything anymore.”

You leaned in, heart thudding.

And when you kissed him, it wasn’t soft. It was earned.

Fierce. Honest. Full of fire and freedom and all the things you’d both been denied for too long.

You weren’t free of danger.

You weren’t safe.

But you had something better.

You had each other.

And even in the heart of an Empire, that was rebellion enough.

⸻

in fanfiction we must sometimes ask ourselves not if he would do that but under what conditions would he would do that

“Hit Me (Like You Mean It)”

Commander Wolffe xBounty Hunter!Reader

⸻

The cantina on Vradros IV reeked of sweat, desperation, and synth-spice. Which is to say, it smelled exactly like a place Wolffe would pick for a “quiet recon op.”

You leaned against the bar, twirling your drink with one hand, your blaster slung low on your hip like a challenge. You felt him before you saw him—Commander Wolffe moved like a ghost in armor, all steel and unspoken tension.

“You missed our meeting,” he said, voice low and gruff behind that half-scorched vocabulator.

You smirked. “I was busy. Didn’t realize I needed your permission to have a life.”

“You don’t.” He paused. “Just seems like yours always conveniently conflicts with mine.”

You turned, sipping your drink lazily. “Aw. You miss me, Commander?”

Wolffe didn’t flinch, but the corner of his mouth twitched like it wanted to. “You’re a pain in my shebs.”

“And yet,” you drawled, “here you are.”

He looked tired. No—past tired. He looked hollowed out, like someone who’d been running on fumes since the war ended, and no one remembered to tell him he could stop.

You tilted your head. “You sleep at all?”

“Enough.”

“Eat?”

“When I remember.”

“Touch anyone lately?”

That got his attention.

His gaze flicked to yours, sharp and startled—but not offended. Never offended. Not with you.

“That’s a hell of a question.”

You shrugged. “It’s a hell of a galaxy.”

He was quiet for a beat, jaw tight.

Then, out of nowhere, he said, “You gonna hit me, or just keep talking?”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He stepped closer, chest brushing yours. “You’ve been itching for a fight since I walked in.”

“No, you’ve been begging for one.” You looked him up and down. “Why?”

“Maybe I deserve it.”

“Oh, don’t get all martyr on me, Commander.” You narrowed your eyes. “What’s really going on?”

He didn’t answer. Just stared at you, every inch of him coiled and unreadable.

And then he said, almost too quiet: “I just want to feel something.”

Ah.

There it was.

The crack in the armor.

Not in his phrasing—Wolffe would never be that direct—but in the weight behind the words. You’d seen it before. In soldiers who lost brothers. In children who never got hugged enough. In yourself, sometimes, when the nights were long and the stars too loud.

“Fine,” you said, stepping in close. “You wanna get hit?”

He nodded once, stiff.

You swung. Not hard—but enough to snap his head to the side.

The cantina didn’t even blink. No one cared. It was that kind of place.

Wolffe exhaled, slow and shaky. Turned his head back toward you.

And smiled.

A real one. Lopsided. Crooked. Full of pain and something almost like relief.

You grabbed the front of his armor and pulled him down to your level. “Next time you need to be touched, maybe try asking, instead of playing wounded karking bantha.”

He leaned in, voice rough. “Would you say yes?”

You kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet.

It was raw. Like striking flint to stone.

His hands came to your waist, holding on like he didn’t trust the ground to stay solid. You felt the tremor in him—not fear. Not hesitation. Just need.

You pulled back, just enough to murmur against his mouth: “Touch-starved bastard.”

He looked at you like you’d reached inside him and flipped a switch he forgot existed. “I deserved that punch.”

“You’ll deserve the next one too.”

He smirked. “Looking forward to it.”

⸻

@melodicwriter I'm borrowing your meme to start a tag post, hope that's okay! 😁

So, my writer friends...

What's a line/scene you've written that you're REALLY proud of?

(Doesn't have to be Shakespeare, just one that makes you feel like everything you've written to get to that point in the story is worth it 😄)

No pressure tags: @lifblogs @niobiumao3 @kybercrystals94 @archivewriter1ont @gonky-kong @indigofyrebird @fanfoolishness @ireadwithmyears @royallykt @apocalyp-tech-a and anyone else who wants to share!!!

*********

For me, the first one that comes to mind is a specific exchange between (Star Wars) Bad Batch's Hunter and Crosshair. Picturing this scene - and hitting on the last few sentences shared here (in bold) - is what convinced me to turn some of my post-season 3 finale Hunter headcanons into a full fanfic. (I'm including some of the initial dialogue from the scene for further context.)

“I wasn’t there for him.”

Crosshair spoke quietly, and Hunter almost flinched at the words – he could guess where this was going. “Crosshair, don’t…”

“I’m the sniper. I’m supposed to watch your backs. I wasn’t there to watch his.”

“His death was not your fault,” Hunter insisted.

“I… I know that now,” Crosshair said, briefly dropping his gaze before looking up again at the memorial, though now not seeming to really see it. “Even if I had been there to help you all find Hemlock, Tech might have died anyway. Still, I failed all of you. I’m trying to make up for it. Omega says Tech wanted us to live and be happy, so… I’m trying. I’m trying to live up to what he sacrificed himself for. But that doesn’t change the fact that I failed him, I wasn’t there for him, and now he’s gone, I can’t make it up to him, and I’m going to have to live with that for the rest of my life.”

Crosshair was relating his own personal thoughts and feelings; yet it was as if he had reached into Hunter’s brain and pulled out all the darkest thoughts lurking there, giving them substance in words. But those thoughts shouldn’t belong to Crosshair, those words shouldn’t be coming from Crosshair’s mouth; that guilt was Hunter’s to own, and Hunter’s alone.

“Crosshair, I am – was – the sergeant. I’m supposed to lead. Protecting you all is my responsibility.”

“And you have,” the other replied, now looking Hunter square in the face. “You still do. You’re not watching just our backs, either – you’re… you’re everywhere all at once, all the time, protecting us. We’re going to make our own decisions, Hunter, and you couldn’t stop Tech from making his; but you were there for him all the time. You were there with him. And that matters.”