#bad batch reader insert

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) A Rainy Evening With Him

Author's Note: Happy Bad Batch eve! I hope you enjoy!

Warning: Storms, Established Relationship, Fluff

The air on Pabu was rather humid. Well, it always was. But you detected something else in the air late that afternoon in the middle of a project. You paused your task to look up at the sky, noting the gray clouds that were gradually rolling in. The wind picked up and tugged at a nearby banner so hard that you could hear the fabric whipping repeatedly.

The citizens of Pabu began to pack up and head indoors. Boats were making their way in for the evening. No one was panicked. There was no rush. Everyone was moving in an unhurried, orderly manner, but with purpose.

You looked around for a particular Bad Batcher in hopes of finding him before the rainstorm began...

Hunter:

It seemed as if Hunter had been looking for you too. You saw him standing at the base of a stairwell, tilting his head to search the crowd of people making their way to their homes. When he locked eyes with you, that familiar smile crossed his features. He took your hand, drawing you closer to him.

"Storm's coming," he said. "But you already knew that. it's nothing major, but it's not the kind of weather to be working in."

"Ah, so that's why everyone's making their exit," you said, glancing around. Hunter nodded and began leading you up the stairs, off toward where the Batch's quarters were.

Just as you made it to the patio, a few droplets fell on your skin. You and Hunter both walked under the cover of the patio, watching as more drops fell, speckling the stone floor outside. It was a quaint little patio with a cushioned swing. You gave Hunter's hand a tug and went over to sink into the cushion comfortably. He followed the unspoken request, pressing his leg against yours as you both sat side-by-side on the swing.

Hunter put an arm around you, and you leaned into the contact. His warm scent mingled with the salty sea air, like a sandalwood candle.

"I love this weather," you admitted. "Sunny days are great, but there's something about a little rainstorm once in a while."

He nodded in agreement. "The air smells good."

After that, neither of you felt the need to say anything more.

He planted a kiss on your head, and the two of you enjoyed the wind and the sound of the rain falling on the top of the patio, until it was time to go inside.

Wrecker:

You saw Wrecker on the docks, having just come in from fishing on a boat. He smiled when he saw you, strutting over to give you a big hug in greeting.

"They said there's a storm, so we are done for the day," he informed you, setting you down gently. His hand didn't release yours. "We should probably get back before the rain hits."

"Good idea," you replied with a nod. The two of you moved with the steady flow of the crowd as they headed back to their homes. There was no hurry, even as the wind continued to pick up and blow palm tree leaves around. By the time you reached the first stairwell, a few droplets of rain fell on your cheeks and hand.

"Oh, it's starting!" you remarked, showing him the drop on your hand. Wrecker grinned as a few fell on him also, and the two of you automatically began to move just a little faster. The crowds had cleared for the most part, so you could pick up your pace.

At one point, Wrecker just lifted you up and carried you up the final set of stairs, with the both of you laughing in glee as the rain started to pour. He barreled into the Bad Batch's living quarters, quickly plopped you down on the nearest cushion, and shut the door. Your body shook with laughter as you got to work on gathering some blankets and pillows. Wrecker helped you make a little spot for the two of you to curl up under some blankets and watch the rain.

Wrecker held you securely against his chest, his arm extended, so that you could rest your head on it beside him. The rain began its barrage on the roof and against the windows, but it began to fade into a dull sound in the distance as you focused on Wrecker's breathing and the low rumble of his voice as you both talked.

Tech:

You made your way to the one place you knew Tech would be. Normally, he'd be out working on projects somewhere across Pabu; but after the Bad Batch's latest mission, the current ship the squad occupied needed some fine-tuning.

Okay, perhaps a little more than fine-tuning.

The thud of your shoes on the ramp paused as you stopped to take in the state of the weather once more. Things had certainly moved along since you began your trek to the ship. Rain clouds cast the island in a gray darkness, though you could still see the sun peeking out in the distance.

One drop plummeting to the sand turned into two, and then that turned into many. Pretty soon, it became a downpour. You closed your eyes to enjoy one more gust of wind before climbing the rest of the way up the ramp. You walked down the hall of the dark ship rounded the corner to see the incredible mind himself seated in the cockpit.

He seemed to be running a diagnostic to finalize the repair process on his datapad. He heard your approach and looked up.

"Oh, hello." He greeted you in a light, airy tone as he adjusted his goggles. "I saw the storm, and I was just about to comm you."

You smiled affectionately at his concern. "Well, I'm here. How's it looking?" You leaned over to peek at his datapad over his shoulder, and he scrolled through the results of the scan for you to see.

"It took me all morning and this afternoon, but everything seems to be in order."

"That's great. I'm glad to hear that." You took a seat in the co-pilot's chair, watching the ripples of rainwater pounding against the shield of the ship. "It's so beautiful out."

Tech's gaze found yours again, waiting for you to elaborate.

"I just like rain every now and then. The air smells so fresh, and the wind feels kind of exhilarating."

"I can relate in finding beauty in it," he agreed. "Although, I am glad to have completed the repairs before the shift in weather. It would've been...inconvenient."

You nodded. "Certainly." While Tech went back to finalizing his work, you smiled at an idea that popped into your head. You rose from the chair and headed into the back to grab some blankets and pillows from the bunks. When you returned, Tech looked up curiously to see you arranging them just so on the floor beside some crates in the hall.

You extended your hand toward him, motioning for him to join you. "Now that you're done, come sit with me?"

Tech typed something out lightning fast on his datapad before shutting it off. To your delight, he sat down against the crates and opened his arm for you to scooch in up against his side.

"This is...nice," he said, gazing down at you with a soft smile on his You breathed in his scent, exhaling contentedly as you rested your head against his shoulder.

With the rain pounding against the hull of the ship, you two spent the rest of the stormy evening just talking and exchanging a kiss or two.

Echo:

You were already inside the Bad Batch's quarters, shaking the rain from you, when the front door opened. Echo entered, glancing around as if he were looking for you. When he saw you, his whole expression lightened.

"I had a feeling you'd be here," he said. "That storm rolled in pretty fast."

"Yeah, it sure did," you replied, taking his hand in yours and giving him a soft kiss on the lips in greeting. "Isn't it nice, though? We get to relax for the rest of the evening."

He seemed entranced by the kiss and nodded. "Uh-huh, very nice."

"Want to get cozy on the couch?"

Echo nodded at the proposition, and you snatched up a throw blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over the both of you as you curled up on the couch together.

You laid your head on Echo's chest, listening to his heartbeat thrum within it. His hand rested on your back, occasionally patting it gently. Your gazes were fixed on the nearest glass window where you saw the wind carrying all sorts of tropical leaves in a flurry. The rain continued to escalate, and you sighed deeply in contentment.

Neither you nor Echo felt the need to speak for a while. You simply enjoyed the sounds of the storm outside and the close contact. At some point, the rise and fall of Echo's chest became slower, deeper. You realized that he had fallen asleep, and you smiled to yourself. Planting a kiss on his chin before settling back in, you let your own breathing slow. It wasn't long before your eyes grew so heavy that they fell shut, and you fell asleep.

Crosshair:

As soon as you'd heard that everyone was heading home for the evening, you started looking for one person in particular. Crosshair found you first, approaching you after you'd hardly begun your own search.

"It's nothing serious," he told you when you took his hand. "But it's nearly the end of the day anyway, so people are going home."

"Works for me," you replied, giving his hand a squeeze. He began to lead the way through the throngs of people making their way toward the steps. You relished the way his hand felt in yours, and the way the wind blew so fiercely against your skin, and the way it felt like you were breathing in the freshest air with each gust.

You and Crosshair made it to the Bad Batch's quarters and went inside just as the rain began to fall. You couldn't help but remain at the doorway with your hand resting on the glass, watching the gray clouds rolling over the island and he way the trees danced in the wind.

Crosshair had initially walked halfway across the room, but when he paused and noticed where you stood, he backtracked and returned to your side. He propped the door open and slid down to sit right in the doorway, looking up at you in an unspoken offer.

You smiled and scooched in next to him, breathing a sigh as you rested your head against his shoulder and felt another gust of wind blow over you. It made you shiver, and yet you felt so cozy.

"Thank you," you whispered, and you felt Crosshair's chin rest on your head in response. His arm wrapped around you gently and took hold of your hand.

A comfortable silence fell over you both as you watched the storm. You would exchange the occasional kiss, and you both stayed like that for some time, enjoying each other's company and also the weather...

[emperor-palpaminty]

Crosshair x chronically ill/disabled reader? I'm a disabled female and there's not a lot of fics out there that represent me

Oh my sweet!! I am also chronically ill/disabled and it really can be sucky. I am sure that our issues are different, so I'm going to pull a little bit from my own experiences.

Fluff and comfort, female reader. They're done with fighting and they're chilling on their cool beach planet. I hope this helps you 💚🧄

"Mesh'la," The voice was raspy and soft with a stunning lack of its typical venom. Nothing followed, no suggestions or questions- just space for you to fill. Except you couldn't bring yourself to.

This shit sucked. It was hard to remember when it wasn't like this in the midst of it. Swimming in pain made it difficult to remember what soldi ground felt like. Dizzying. Spinning. Drowning, even-

"Hey." A hand grasped your arm- not harshly, but firm still, keeping you in place. "You're hurting."

What would you normally say? A quip? A snarky comment to his question? The pain couldn't even spare you that, though, and you just kept your eyes shut. You only inclined your head to indicate a yes before you felt him pulling you down.

Warm sand met your body and you were pulled against him. War hardened a man, but ending it made him soften to you. He said no words, just holding you, the tremoring hand of his resting against your back.

Between wave crashes, you wandered if he missed when his hand didn't hurt. If he cursed the state of it, called it stupid.

"I do," Crosshair muttered. "Most days, actually. But less than before."

Kark. You said that out loud. Your face warmed from embarassment, but you just chuffed softly against him. It took another two breaths before you asked (and heard yourself this time), "It really gets better?"

"Yes. And no." Crosshair shifted slightly, hand still resting on you. "The pain never does. You learn to deal with it however best you can."

"And... Is that the better or...?"

Even though your eyes were still squeezed shut, you could envision his lips pursed in thought from the considerate hum he gave before his response. His denim pants were rough as you laid your head in his lap, but his presence itself was comforting. "I would say that is the better part," He finally decided. "You learn what you can do, and your... limitations." Shame filled every syllable, but he spoke quickly to move away from any potential spin-off conversations. His fingers scratched your scalp gently, the fingers trembing slightly with the repeating movement of his joints. "But you learn. Some days it is better."

"And others?"

There was quiet. Again, he did not answer- but he didn't need to, really. The weight of the sun pressed down from above, healing in some ways, on this planet where war no longer exsisted. Hopefully, by the next sunrise, you would feel a little better, and if not, at least you had someone who understood and would stand by you through it all.

[mstechdragon]

Why yes. I did get dipped by the king of the clones himself.

How the interaction went:

Me: “Wanna make TikTok jealous?”

Dee Bradley Baker: “Who?”

I’ll never not find that funny.

[mstechdragons-outpost]

Last weekend was an absolute blast. From getting dipped by James Arnold Taylor and Dee Bradley Baker to getting hugged by Ashley Eckstein, this past weekend was everything a girl could ask for and more!

[hellhound5925]

Hey friends! (18+)

Part three of the Tattoos series will be out today I promise! ❤️‍🔥

I have thoroughly enjoyed the reactions I've gotten to it so far 😊 keep them coming! (I’ll link them at the bottom of his post)

If you have no idea what I'm talking about you can find Part One here and Part Two here!

Taglist:

@cloneloverrrrr @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @idoubleswearimawriter @maybethatfanfictionwriter

@savebytheodore @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @jediknightjana @techs-goggles9902 @clonethirstingisreal

[rainydaydream-gal18]

This is the sort of Wrecker content I need in my life

“Do not go far from me.”/”I won’t.” With a protective/ jealous Wrecker ❤️

Aw, my dear Wrecker! 😊 Hope this is to your liking, anon!

"A Change in Price"

1. “Do not go far from me.”/”I won’t.”

Pairing: Wrecker x fem reader

***

It was just another mission to get more intel for Cid, but somehow, you and the Bad Batch always managed to deal with the shadiest of people. Cid certainly kept questionable company, but that wasn't surprising.

You, Wrecker and Hunter were walking into a seedy bar on another planet to meet with a client while Tech, Echo and Omega were stationed outside in case things went south. You didn't like the unsavory way a lot of the men in the bar were staring at you...and neither did Wrecker.

Seeing how uncomfortable you looked, his arm came protectively around your shoulders and he pulled you closer to him. "I've got you, don't worry," he reassured you. .

You inched a little closer to him and pleaded quietly, "Do not go far from me."

With a comforting squeeze, he promised you, "I won't."

Normally, you did okay on missions on your own, but something about this place gave you a really bad feeling.

Finally, you guys found the client: a Zabrak male who was sitting at a booth cleaning his blaster.

"We're here for Cid's intel," Hunter said straightforwardly to the Zabrak. Then he signaled with his head to Wrecker to give the client the money he was owed.

Wrecker lifted the case he had in his other hand, removed his arm from your shoulders and opened it up, revealing the vast amount of credits inside. Then he set the case on the table and slid it towards the client.

The Zabrak eyed the case for a moment before taking a data disc. However, instead of handing it to Hunter, he held it back and stated, "Actually...there's been a change in the price for this information."

"What?" Hunter asked, taken aback.

The man leaned forward, a malicious grin on his face...as he turned his sights on you. "I want the money...and the girl."

Wrecker's arm immediately shot out and moved you behind him as he glared threateningly at the client.

"She's not part of the deal," said Hunter, his own tone growing darker.

"That's my price," said the Zabrak. "No girl, then no intel. Take it or leave it."

Hunter tried working a way around this deal in his head. They needed this intel for Cid or else she wouldn't give them the money they needed for more supplies, which they were dangerously low on, but there was no way he was giving you to this man. He would never do that in a million years. But what could they do? If they started a fight, then the whole bar would get involved and he wanted to be as discreet about this as possible. They could pretend to give you away, but that could potentially break your trust in them and he wouldn't do that to you either. Maybe they could--

"You can take your deal and shove it where the sun don't shine."

Both you and Hunter heard Wrecker's declaration and, to both your shock and Hunter's, Wrecker had taken one step forward and thrown a hard punch in the Zabrak's face before the guy could even react. The client slumped over on the table, unconscious.

You quickly jumped forward and pulled the data disc out of the Zabrak's hand while Hunter just looked to Wrecker, his disbelief apparent even with his helmet on.

"What? He deserved it," Wrecker justified. "No one threatens our girl like that."

Hunter just shook his head and, since the guy was out cold, decided he didn't really need the money, so the Sergeant picked the case back up and told you and Wrecker that it was time to go.

Before you went after Hunter, you took Wrecker's hand and told him, "Thank you for that, Wrecker."

He smiled. "How was I supposed to keep my promise to not go far from you if you get taken away?" he asked. Then he leaned down and kissed your forehead. "No one's ever gonna take you away from me. I've always got you."

In that moment, you'd never felt safer or more loved.

Photogirl894's Fluff/Romance prompts

Photogirl894's 1,300 Followers celebration fics

[neon-junkie]

How would TBB react to seeing the reader about to leave on a night out dressed up in a super hot outfit?

Gender-neutral reader, but feminine presenting. Words like 'beautiful' and 'pretty' are used!

Hunter - Even with half of his face tattooed, he still manages to blush through the thickness of the ink. - He's truly lost for words. - Hunter has an adorable stutter as he compliments, "wow, you look… nice- I mean, incredible. Good. Beautiful?" - Hunter then facepalms as he scolds himself for picking "nice" as his first compliment. Ugh, you look so much more than nice! - You'll both be giggling as Hunter takes a deep breath, and begins going into detail about how good you look, highlighting the specific parts that really stand out to him. - You're heading out with friends, but Hunter is quietly hinting that he wants to come along. Totally not because he's jealous or anything, but because he hopes to meet your friends, right? The friends that he's met several times before? Yeah! - Tell him that you'll still be looking this good when you come back home later tonight, and he'll get the hint. - However, he may need to leave a fresh mark or two on your neck, just to get the point across that you're taken.

Echo - This poor, poor man is going to turn the deepest shade of red when he finally sees you. - Why, just WHY did you have to wear that specific outfit that he loves so much?! And you're going out without him too?! Oh, what a tease! - Echo is lost for words as he gushes over you. He feels like it's his wedding day - How is he this lucky? How did he land an angel like you? - There's a tear in his eye as you smother him in kisses, reassuring him that you're all his, that you're the lucky one for being with him, that you can't wait to come home and snuggle up with him later. - Echo doesn't ask for much, but he would like to be kept in the loop on your whereabouts. Purely for your own safety! - "And when you reach the next bar, just comm me. Your friends have my comm number too, don't they? If anything goes wrong, and you want picking up-" blahblahblah. - One final smother in reassuring kisses, and you're good to hit the town!

Wrecker - His mouth instantly hangs open, his eyes turn wide, and his facial expression swiftly turns into a grin as he comments, "HOT!!" - You know in cartoons where the character's mouth drops open, and they begin howling and barking? Yeah, that's Wrecker. - Seriously, you look hot, and Wrecker's going to ensure that you know it. - "Look at you! I can't believe I got myself an angel as sweet as you!" - He'll mention how he's sad that he's not tagging along, but he'll assure you that it's important you spend your time with your friends. - Wrecker isn't as clingy as he seems. After all, he'll be right here, waiting for your return. - And when you do return, all your hangover needs will be met. A tall glass of water waiting for you, a midnight snack, breakfast in bed, and a big buff man to cuddle you back to health!

Tech - This will go one of two ways: - Option one: Tech eyes you up and down, and with a firm nod, he comments, "that is suitable attire for your evening. I hope you enjoy yourself." - Option two: Tech's brain short circuits. He can barely muster up a thought, let alone a comment. Radio silence, but his expression says it all. - Either way, Tech is more than impressed with your outfit choice, and how stunning you look. He just… struggles to find the words, like a deer in the headlights. - Give him a few moments, and you'll be met with suitable praise. "How exquisite you look, a truly elegant and radiant creature." - Tech can't pinpoint one specific word to describe how beautiful you look, so instead, he selects the most complex and in-depth ones. He doesn't want to rely on a 'standard compliment.' - A few kisses later, and you're off to meet your friends. All the while, Tech begins pacing around the Marauder like a lost puppy. He needs to keep himself occupied until you return!

Crosshair - He's instantly thirsty for you, smiling cheekily as he eyes you up, gawking at the sight of you. - Crosshair has a way with words, and spews out his praise, all whilst kneading at your waist, his hands trailing down to grab your ass whilst he steals a handful of kisses from you. - And then it dawns on him… - You're going out with your friends tonight, not him… - Jealousy swiftly takes over, and his compliment turn into teasing (yet petty) jabs. Nothing to hurt your feelings, though. - "Any reason why you're wearing this tonight? Do you need more attention? Am I not enough for you?" - Whilst his tone is teasing, there's a desperate need for validation. - Yes, he knows you'd never be stupid and hurt him, but… can you please remind him one more time? - Don't be surprised when you leave, and minutes later, Crosshair sends you a holotext. "Comm me if you need anything, Beautiful."

[wanderer-six]

Late Night

AN: this tweet changed my life I could not stop thinking about this i needed to write this i need you all to b thinking about this too

Relationships: Hunter x Fem!Jedi Reader

Summary: You and Hunter have been together for years now, living out a happy life on Pabu. You're spending the night together, and time has done nothing to quell your desires.

WARNINGS: unprotected p in v, orgasm denial, edging (it's ok he can take it), old man hunter im dedd 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 2k I did not proofread this apologies in advance if it's bad I hope u can at least get behind the Vibes u feel me

It’s another beautiful night on Pabu. The sun set over the island hours ago, and the moon now bathes the ocean in shimmering silver. As the day wound down, so too did the residents; the paths that bustle by day are all but empty now as everyone settles in for a peaceful night.

All around the island, there is quiet. The only sounds you hear now are the gentle drone of the waves, and his heavy breathing.

Like all the others, you and Hunter retired to your bungalow, but rest is far from your minds. In the dark of your bedroom, you and him are bare, chasing off any chill from the evening air with each other’s warmth. Hunter, the man you’ve loved for a lifetime, is beneath you now. You balance your hands on his broad shoulders, riding him slowly, wonderfully, biting your lip as he meets your gaze with weary eyes. 

Even after all these years, making love to him still feels as amazing as it did the very first night you shared together. Each roll of your hips fills you with more of him, and you can’t help but whimper when he hits every spot you love. It seems he hasn’t had his fill of you, either. Though time has had its effects on Hunter, it certainly hasn’t changed the way he yearns for you. Even now, he hangs on your every movement, his vigilant eyes darting between your pleasured expressions and your hips taking his cock.

Deciding he’s gotten a little too comfortable, you descend onto his length at a different angle, allowing him to reach deeper than before. At the sudden sensation, a groan catches in his chest. Between his labored breaths, he chuckles.

“You feel so fucking good, cyar’ika…” 

Humming through a smile, you rest your forehead on his.

“You’re one to talk, handsome…” Your fingers trail through his hair, still just as long as when you first met, but having faded to grey some time ago. “I can’t get enough of you.”

That confident, effortless smirk tugs at his lips. You’ve seen it a thousand times, yet each time he wears it, heat still rises beneath your cheeks.

“Heh… is that so?” Though his once defined, sharp muscles have softened from years of respite on the island, he still feels as strong as ever when he grips at your hips. “I guess time hasn’t gotten the best of me in every way…”

At this, it’s your turn to grin. You know it’s been a few long years since the two of you last saw combat; with the clones’ advanced aging, those years have counted double for him. But even if you’re older than you once were, you know you still have plenty of time left.

And it’s when Hunter starts to pretend as though he’s moments from death’s door that you like to remind him what he’s still capable of.

Without warning, you melt against Hunter, draping your arms over his shoulders and crashing your lips onto his. His tongue dances with yours, and as his arms hold you flush against him by your waist, you begin to roll your hips more quickly. You move faster, harder, riding him for all he’s worth. You revel in every little noise he makes, the way his eyes flutter shut in pure bliss. His fingers tense, clinging to your hips so desperately as to leave bruises.

In the Force, you feel how close he is. How near he is to losing himself fully in you…

… and right before he hits his peak, you lift yourself off of him, robbing him of the only thing he craves in that moment.

Hunter utters a groan, wincing through the torment of his denied release. He leans his head back against the wall, and you can feel his heart kicking fast against his chest.

“F-Fuck…” he hisses through gritted teeth.

Despite his anguish, you can only grin. You lean forward, lavishing him with gentle kisses as he settles down.

“Easy, Sergeant,” you sing. “I’m not done with you yet.”

As you kneel over him, he dares to glance between your legs. You’re so tantalizingly close to his aching length, and though his desperation is clear on his face, he knows better than to think you’ll be so generous. Utterly helpless, he shakes his head. 

“I’m too old for you to be teasing me like this…” he mutters, a weak smile tugging at his lips. You roll your eyes at his self-admonishment.

“Oh, enough…” With a deep exhale, you rest your forehead against his, and your eyes fall shut as you bask in the feeling of him. For every experience you’ve had in every corner of the galaxy, nothing compares to having Hunter all to yourself. “I know you can handle it, even if we may not be young anymore…”

Though he’s clearly just as lost in your attentions, this remark has him prop an eye open to sneer at you.

“‘We’?” he repeats with a chuckle. Sighing, he runs his rough hands up the curves of your waist. “You’ve still got your whole life ahead of you—even if you’re wasting it torturing an old clone like me…”

Your eyes warm, and you bite your lip. With a dangerous twist of your hips, you grind against him, earning a deep grumble from Hunter’s chest. Your lips linger by his ear.

“I think I know my Hunter by now…” you purr, voice low enough to make him shiver, “and if there’s one thing he likes, it’s a challenge.”

Without a word of warning, you lower yourself back onto his cock, taking him deep inside as you begin riding him again. Hunter goes rigid, fumbling for purchase against your hips as they overwhelm him with pleasure. Nothing could ever thrill you more than the way he touches you. For as long as you’ve been together, he’s known exactly how to make your body sing for him. Even now, a desperate mess beneath you, his hands run along your skin purely by instinct.

And luckily, you know his body just as well.

Again, you fuck him harder. Again, you feel the tension in his core, the white-hot release building inside of him…

Again, you stop just short, lifting off of him right before he can come.

Your poor sergeant whines again, his head lolling back as his eyes pinch shut. Between your legs, his cock throbs, twitching in desperate need for the stimulation you’ve so cruelly deprived him of. 

“A-ah…!” Between his heavy breaths, chest rising and falling arduously, he moans in complaint. “You’re… fuck, you’re driving me crazy…”

While he grovels in such a sorry state, you’re no worse for wear at all. You place kiss after languid kiss up his neck, tickling his skin with your breath.

“I can keep this up all night, handsome…” Pulling away just enough to catch his eye, you don a mischievous grin. “I think you can, too.”

 In the face of your taunting, Hunter surprises you when his smile softens. He cups your face with a trembling hand, running his thumb gently along your cheek. You lean into his touch, admittedly falling victim to his sudden tenderness.

“Tell me…” he asks, “what’s it gonna take for you to let me off, huh?”

You giggle, leaning forward to nuzzle your nose against his.

“Hm… I don’t know,” you sigh, playing coy. “I think you might just be too old to manage what I have in mind…~”

With a chuckle, he pinches your cheek. “Try me.”

Pulling away just enough to meet his eyes, you flash him a charming grin.

“Tell me you love me.”

Through his lust-filled gaze, Hunter raises an eyebrow above a half-smirk.

“What… that’s all?”

You nod. “Mm-hm. That is… if you think you can handle—”

You’re cut off when Hunter’s lips catch yours, meeting you in a kiss so deep you nearly feel like you’re drowning. His tongue toys with yours, so desperate to taste you it makes heat flood beneath your cheeks. Still, you can’t help but smile against him. Though Hunter likes to act as though he’s old and grey, now, you know he’s far from gone. In moments like these, you feel the fire that’s burned inside him since the very beginning. It hasn’t faded in the slightest. You know it never will.

When he finally pulls away, he doesn’t stray far, lips ghosting over yours as he holds your gaze with intense eyes.

“I love you, cyar’ika,” he breathes, a solemn swear. “Always have… always will.”

For the first time that night, it seems you’re the one on the backfoot. Eyes wide and innocent, you’re touched by the sincerity of his words. You know Hunter, know that he does everything to the fullest. But hearing for certain that his passion would be yours for as long as you both have left… your heart can scarcely take it.

With sudden desperation, you press your lips to his, and you bury his cock in your warmth. He moans into your mouth, and you moan back, losing yourself to the feeling as you ride him again. Tense hands grip at every part of you—your waist, your ass, your shoulders—leaving marks on your skin as he tries in vain to bear the sensation. But it isn’t long until his resolve begins to break.

As a gasp catches in Hunter’s throat, his lips break from yours.

“F-Fuck, cyar’ika… I’m gonna…”

You already know. You feel his energy shifting—you feel how close he is. His delayed release has only built up to something more intense… but this time, you don’t back off. You indulge him, rolling your hips even faster than before. With what little stamina he has left tonight, he’s thrusting into you, and you whimper aloud as he hits every perfect spot inside you. You’re as close as he is…

And when you reach your climax, you’re amazed he can stay conscious.

Hunter buries himself to the hilt in your cunt, coming deep inside you. Your orgasm milks him for every last drop, and given the way you’ve tormented him tonight, he has plenty to give. By the time you’ve sucked him dry, his overstimulated cock still twitching in your walls, he’s quivering beneath you, completely and utterly spent. He breathes as heavy as he would during the war, on missions that would see him running for hours… You’re sure he’ll ache just as badly, come morning.

After taking a moment to recover, Hunter opens his eyes, gazing up at you with a precious smile. Gingerly, you tuck his hair behind his ears, supporting his head as you meet him in a feather-light kiss.

“I love you, too, Hunter…” you hum, voice barely above a whisper. “Always have, always will.”

The smile he wears is genuine. He tilts his head to catch your hand, placing a kiss on your palm.

“I’m glad. I don’t know what I’d do without you, cyar’ika.” He pauses, then chuckles bitterly as he closes his eyes again. “Even if you’re liable to kill me, putting me through nights like this…”

Your grin turns more playful. Slowly, you lift yourself off of Hunter, relishing the way he shivers as his length falls out of you.

“Be thankful I’m so generous,” you tease as you lay beside him. You rest your head on his chest, sighing in utter contentment. “If I weren’t, you would be in for another round… or ten.”

Hunter chuckles, voice reverberating in his broad chest in a way that soothes you more than anything else could. Arm wrapped around you, he traces idle shapes on your skin.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something meaner to treat me to when we wake up tomorrow,” he sighs. His gentle lips press to your forehead. “But for now, let me get some rest, huh?”

Giggling, you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck.

“Hm… all right. But only because I love you so much.”

The warm night air, the distant roar of the waves, the embrace of the man you’ll always love… you can’t imagine anything more perfect. But as always, Hunter finds a way to make the greatest things even greater.

“I love you more, cyar’ika. Always.”

AN: Thank you as always for reading mmwah mwah I hope you enjoy, always stay edging that old man ♥♥

[stardust9905]

THIS SO DARN CUTE SKCUIWHFKWBFH

I love it so muchhhh 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

Kisses in the dark

This had been requested by @bloodmoon-bites prompt 23 on my list. Sorry it took so long but hope everyone that reads enjoys:)

He likes being close to you, he likes the warm fuzzy feeling that starts at his toes and spreads further up his body. He likes the smile that spreads on your face when he mutters something sarcastic. He likes the way you bump him softly to let him know that you’re there. He could go on and on about the things he likes about you.

He often wonders if he does things that you like. Do you like the way he catches you when you trip up? Do you like the way he crinkles his nose when you tell a cheesy joke? Do you like the way he hovers around you when he just needs your company? So many question that are left unanswered.

“And then Tech- why are you looking at me like that?” Your story stops mid sentence, your head tilting to the side as your brow raises curiously

“Like what?” Crosshair pulls the toothpick from between his lips, to mimic the expression on your face

A small smile spreads on your face. Standing you begin to move closer to him, your hands locked together behind your back. He stiffens slightly, his hands rest on his hips before he cross them over his chest. You stop just inches from him. Your eyes settle on his lips for a moment before flashing up to his eyes and you hear the gulp he takes and let out a small chuckle.

“What’re you doing?” He asks lowly, his eyes never leaving yours

“Trying to kiss… you?” You entire body language changes, the sudden confidence leaves your body, shoulder slumping and your eyes darting to the side

“Why?” He asks, head cocking to the side, a slight smirk on his face

“Well, you were… giving me the look” you’re unsure now, wondering if you had just been seeing things

It had been happening for weeks, this look he would get. His eyes on your lips as you spoke, the way he would lean towards you just slightly like he wanted you to make the first move. Now you have and now this seed of rejection is nestling inside of you, causing heat to claw up from you chest to your neck, cheeks, and the tips of your ears.

Did he not like the things you did? The soft touches to his arm when you stood next to him. The soft chuckles to the sarcastic comments he made under his breath. When you hover around him because his company just warms you. Maybe you should have told him about the things you like about him first. Maybe it’s too late now.

“You’re doing it again!” You half shout and he lets out a chuckle “you get this look on your face like you want to kiss me, or you want me to kiss you, so if that’s what you want then just do-“ and he did, his grip on your hips is tight but his lips are soft, and this warm fuzzy feeling bursts inside your chest.

“I knew you wanted to kiss me” you whisper and he laughs loudly and it makes you smile, he leans down to press his forehead to yours

“of course I’ve wanted to kiss you, Cyar'ika” his eyes close as he lets out a shaky breath “just had to be sure it’s what you wanted too” he leans forward and presses a another kiss to your lips before pulling back to smile at you.

[momojedi]

Could I have #88 and #97 with Captain Rex, pretty please...??

JUST MARRIED PAIRING: Captain Rex x GN! Reader

#88 | “Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married…” #97 | “I want you and I know you want me too.”

GENRE: Fluff WARNING: none A/N: Since I got prompted #88 by an anon who asked for no one in particular, I mixed up your request with theirs. Thanks for requesting!

MASTERLIST | MOMOJEDI'S 300 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION

"Mhi solus tome,

Mhi solus dar’tome.

Mhi me’dinui an,

Mhi ba’juri verde."

Intense concentration furrows my brow as I massage my temples, striving to translate the unfamiliar words. "For fuck's sake," I mutter, frustration punctuating each syllable as I kick a nearby pebble with surprising strength, eliciting a muffled groan and the metallic clang of beskar as it ricochets off a distant helmet.

Two weeks may not seem long, especially when operating undercover among a terrorist faction whilst the galaxy is engulfed in war. It would probably be advisable to keep a cool head and avoid making a big deal out of insignificant subjects—such as unfamiliar phrases. However, when those words escape the lips of your longtime crush, delivered with an unexpected fervor while locking passionate eyes with you in a language foreign to your ears...

Well, needless to say, I've devoted more time to overthinking it than I care to admit.

When General Skywalker tasked us with shadowing Death Watch until the Jedi Council reached more intel, I hadn't given it much thought... admittedly, he hadn't specified that by "us" he didn't mean Ahsoka and me, as usual, but rather the captain of the 501st and myself—the very someone I've harboured feelings for since the day we met.

Nevertheless, I maintained my composure, played my part, and stayed under the radar, much like Rex, until Death Watch proposed an elaborate ceremony—a ceremony whose name I could barely pronounce, let alone understand its significance. Before any suspicion could arise, Rex quickly agreed in my place, and now here I am, entangled in some eerie ritual with a military captain whose gaze seemed entranced, so intense was his focus.

"If I had my datapad right now...," I hiss under my breath, casting blame on whoever decided I should leave my sole translation device behind. Likely Skywalker.

The crunch of gravel under heavy boots interrupts my daydreaming. I spin around sharply, only to find the very man haunting my mind approaching. "I figured I'd find you here," Rex hums as he settles beside me. "Yeah," I reply with a dry laugh, brushing the dust off my hands. "Sorry, I suppose I just needed... alone time. After everything yesterday, you know?" Rex's eyes widen almost comically, and he sheepishly scratches the back of his neck. "Oh... yeah."

The ensuing silence gnaws at my nerves, prompting me to pop the question after another agonising five minutes. "Hey, about that... what did those words mean, anyway?" "I'm not sure what you're referring to," Rex responds, avoiding my gaze. I gulp. He can't have forgotten, can he? "Come on, Rex... It seemed significant." After a moment's hesitation, Rex sighs, running a hand over his buzzcut before raising his head to face me, though still evading it. "I..." "Yes?" "Alright, fine. [Name], don't panic, but... we might have accidentally... gotten married."

...

"WHAT?"

"Shh!" Rex quiets me with a gentle hand over my mouth, his eyes darting cautiously around us before he releases me. I shake my head slowly, puzzled. "Sorry, but what?" "The, um, the words... they were Mandalorian wedding vows," he admits, his tone tinged with uncertainty. I can't help but laugh. Married? Us? "You're joking." "Unfortunately not," he replies, a slight smile tugging at his lips, before his expression shifts to sheepishness as he rubs the back of his neck. "Though I do believe you'd make an excellent partner." Suppressing a chuckle, I ignore the warmth creeping into my cheeks.

"Actually, I realized we needed a distraction when I overheard some members gossiping behind our backs. They were growing suspicious, so I thought perhaps they'd relax if we participated in some traditions." Rex sighs, examining a pebble he's picked up. I shoot him a hopeful sidelong glance before quickly looking away, feeling my heart quicken.

Force, this man is captivating.

Silence envelops us once more as we both drift deeper into our own thoughts. When I sense the gravel shifting under his weight, I raise an eyebrow. "It wouldn't bother me, you know?" A lump forms in my throat, causing a series of coughs to escape at his words. "Wh-what?" "Being with you." Suddenly, his warm yet weighty hand finds mine. Sweat prickles at my heated skin as I keep my gaze fixed ahead.

"R-rex, are you suggesting...?" "[Name]," he interrupts, turning to face me. Before I can evade his gaze, he gently lifts my chin, compelling me to meet his eyes. I run my tongue over my dry lips, which his gaze is now fixated on. "I want you. And I know you want me, too." His proximity sends shivers down my spine as goosebumps ripple over my arms and back. His newfound confidence is palpable. "I've noticed the way you look at me, how you stare. I know, [name]," he murmurs against my lips, "what do you think?"

I flush, gripping his wrist as I lock eyes with his warm gaze. "I think you're right." Rex chuckles deeply, resonating like a rumble in his chest. "Good." And before I realize it, his lips meet mine,

Time seems to slip away as I surrender completely to the kiss. Eventually, Rex pulls back, leaving me breathless, and flashes me a mischievous grin.

“So, about that wedding night…”

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) Imagine: A Pabu Wedding

Author's Note: I couldn't get this sweet image out of my head, so I wrote some little blurbs on what a Pabu wedding would be like. And yes... Tech gets a happy ending too.

After the danger of the Empire is finally kept at bay… It’s time to begin a new chapter.

It’s safe to say that Omega is going to be your maid of honor.

Hunter:

You coordinate with Shep to hold the ceremony in a gazebo.  Light, airy fabric is draped on the sides, swaying beautifully in the breeze like something out of a dream.  There are lovely tropical flowers woven around the beams of the gazebo, and placed in vases on either side of the entrance.

Your closest friends and family have gathered.  Rex and a few others even managed to take a small break from the beginnings of the rebellion to visit for the event.  Wooden chairs are placed on either side to create an aisle leading up to the gazebo, where you and Hunter stand, the two of you dressed in white clothes.  Hunter’s signature bandana is replaced with a plain one to match his loose white shirt and pants. You wear a simple and lovely dress out of the same material he wears, with a crown of flowers perched on your head.

Wrecker:

The ceremony takes place on the beach with gorgeous blue waves behind you. The sun is high in the open sky with not a single cloud in sight.  A wooden arch is set up with flowers adorning every inch of it.  Whenever a gust of salty air breezes by, it carries petals with it that fall around you.

Friends and family are all around, standing with bare feet in the sand, holding flowers close to their hearts.  You see so many familiar faces, smiling... There are glistening tears on some.

Wrecker and you are both wearing white, with colorful flower chains around your necks.  The hem of your dress blows in the wind, and you feel the prickle of sand on your legs.

Tech:

You make the arrangements to have the ceremony under the large courtyard tree, with tropical flower arrangements bursting with color placed beautifully in vases on the brick structure surrounding it.  Wooden chairs line either side of the makeshift aisle, each one with white fabric wrapped around a lovely bouquet on the back.  

People you know and love are there, including those you haven’t seen for a little while. You and Tech are dressed in light fabric that is both lovely and also practical considering the tropical climate of Pabu. You hold a bouquet of lilies in your hands, and he has one pinned to his shirt.

Echo: 

You both decide to have a small ceremony on a boat.  The sun has begun to descend, painting the sky in picturesque pastels. Flower garlands are draped across the outside of the boat cabin and wrapped around the railing.

It’s a quiet, intimate affair, but not lacking in the ones you wish most to be there.  Rex, Gregor, and a few other close brothers of Echo are in attendance in addition to the Batch and some new good friends made on Pabu.

You are in white lace dress with a hair ornament of the same material, and Echo wears a white tunic with a dark jacket over it.  You pin a flower to his jacket, and he tucks one behind your ear.

Crosshair:

The small ceremony takes place by beautiful stone formations near the caves.  The setting sun reflects red, orange, and a deep yellow over the rippling ocean water.  There is a small arch set up with a few bunches of tropical flowers, with vases on either side displaying more blossoms.

It is a small crowd to witness the ceremony, and everyone is rather happy to be part of it.  There are so many smiles, jokes, and warm greetings as everyone assembles.  The mood of the event is rather light and cheery against the bold, moving colors of the setting behind you.

You wear a billowing white dress with a hem that catches in the breeze, and Crosshair wears a dark jacket over his light clothes.

[emperor-palpaminty]

Peace, For Now

In which you (GN) and Echo discuss next steps. Takes place at the end of TBB. Sweet and fluff and a love confession on a beach??? Whaaaaat???

(also lemme know how you like the "you" vs third person reader inserts. I'm currently writing Cat and Mouse pt 4, so I'm trying to decide how I do that! I personally don't like "you" when i read, but if yall do I am flexible!)

The beach was a ways away from the middle of town, but you could still hear the sounds of celebration. Your toes dug into the sand, the gentle waves filling the holes they left behind. It was surreal. Your body felt empty and light, but also... tired.

You were done. For now.

Unanswered questions looped around your mind again. Sacrifices were made, and they could not be undone after the war. It was always hard to come to terms with, but somehow coming to terms with the end was harder, in ways. If your largest battle was finished, was it a gulp of fresh air or the finale of an aria?

What did you even know outside of war at this point? The breeze that tugged at your face promised a vague hint of hope, but...

"There you are."

You didn't bother turning all the way- you knew Echo's voice anywhere, even across a ship full of his brothers. You smiled, softer than you felt. "I needed a breather."

"I could tell." There was a soft scuff, shoe against a rock, and a soft thump that followed as Echo landed softly in the sand. "It's quieter over here, anyway." He padded over gently, moving meticulously. That was Echo as everyone knew him. Quiet and thoughtful, but brave, honorable, independent. Sassy when someone needed it, and he had a sense of humor that could appeal to everyone. Echo was loyal to a fault- dying once and then being willing to die again for the brothers that took him in.

He was legendary among clones. But he was just... Echo.

You finally cast him a glance, smiling when he met your gaze readily. After a shared moment, a pause, you chuckled and shook your head softly. "What are we, Echo?"

"What do you mean?"

You closed your eyes and tried to stead yourself. The waves were moving, lapping closer, but not quite reaching the two of you in the close moment. It was a welcome guest, but you were fine that it hadn't invaded the intimate space yet. You steeled yourself, blinking quietly as you fought off a prickle of tears at the corner of your eye. "All I've ever known- and all you've ever known, I would think- has been war. Fighting. Being soldiers." The shrug you gave was helpless.

The words hung in midair. They stayed for a while, the silence of them almost louder than the incoming tide or birds flying by. You blinked, a hand reaching up and touching your cheek to pull away with a wet tear. "Oh," You said, not quite realizing you had been crying.

Echo reached out quickly. He touched your back, the human hand landing on you. "Hey." He said. "There's no rush."

"I know, but-"

"Fighting will always exist. You'll find something to fight for." He licked his lips, brows narrowing in determination. "Tomorrow."

Your lips drew into a smile. You nodded, faith falling into place. "Yeah," You muttered, as sound returned to the world. "Tomorrow."

[awkward-tension-art]

Order 66 (tbb x Jedi!reader)

Ok, so i’ve had this idea in my head of the clones with a Jedi S/O during Order 66. I don’t mean they act on Order 66, I mean if everything sorta played out similar in canon (Chip doesn’t work)

Idk, I like me some protective boys.

CW: minimally proofread, jedi!S/O, Reader, Gender neutral pronouns, Order 66, violence, death, swearing, Hunter trying his best, Wrecker being a sweetie, Echo is ready to fight, Tech is the only one who is level headed, and Crosshair being somewhat emotional

You were following Caleb when the order came through. Your steps stumbled and your knees hit the cold ground. All around you, the Force was being ripped apart. Hands were on your shoulders. 

your lover. You barely realized through the haze.

With absolute horror, you watched helplessly as clones gunned down Depa Billaba. “Run Caleb!” You heard her scream through the overwhelming grief and death you felt. The padawan turned, lightsaber ready. 

“Get away from us!” he barked, calling your name, “Get up! Please!”

He was panicked, confused. So were you. 

You managed to look up, seeing the clone troopers across the field standing over Master Billaba’s smoking corpse. They were prepping to kill you and the padawan next.

Without another word you bolted, grabbing Caleb’s hand and sprinting to the trees. You didn’t look back. You had to make sure the kid was safe.

Hunter

“Wait!” He’ll give chase before stopping at the tree line. He had never seen you look so devastated and afraid. 

He’s going to follow you. Of course he is. He’s just as confused as everyone else. 

Until Tech finally finds out what's going on

“The Jedi have been ordered to be executed.” “Which one?” “All of them.”

“What!? Why!?” Hunter is panicked at this point. The troopers behind him have orders to kill. They won’t show you mercy. 

“Apparently they’ve committed treason.”

By the time he finds you, Caleb had already jumped across the ravine and was waiting for you. You turned, tears in your eyes.

“I can feel it…everyone is being killed.” 

“We’re going to figure this out,” He’s going to try and calm you down, “I promise, we’re going to figure this out.” His arms are around you. 

It wasn’t safe for you. Not anywhere near him and the others. He knows this. You know this. 

The two of you come up with a hurried plan.

“Go to these coordinates. Once we know what's going on, I’ll come find you.” He’ll kiss you passionately, “Get the kid and hide.” 

Hunter won’t go with you. He’s the squad leader. He can’t just go missing. 

Despite the fear that you’ll be found out, he trusts you and your skills to stay alive.

Once you jump across, he’ll watch, make sure no one follows or tries to shoot at you. 

Once he’s questioned on your whereabouts, he’s going to lie, “I managed to stab the kid and shoot the Jedi. both of them fell into the water.”

I will say, his nerves are shot until he gets to you again. 

But in the meanwhile? He’s antsy. Anxious and a tad distracted.

Also a hairs trigger from snapping.

Crosshair badgers him at Kamino and Hunter barely holds back a punch.

Hunter loves you, so damn dearly. And right now he can’t protect you because he needs to figure out what the fuck is going on.

But, after finding the truth and getting Omega, he makes a damn beeline for the coordinates he gave you.

Plus side? Caleb and Omega become friends.

Echo

What the FUCK just happend!?

He sprints into the trees to keep up, ignoring how Hunter is calling his name. 

“Echo, get back here!” 

“No.” He will cut off his comms. 

He’s an ARC trooper, he can track you to a degree. He’s not like Hunter, but he gets to the general area where you are. 

He manages to get to a clearing where you and Caleb are hiding in the trees. 

“Cyare!” Echo is clearly confused, worried and he swears he feels the same amount of death that’s overwhelmed you. 

Once you reveal yourself, his helmet is off and his arms are around you so tightly.

“I don’t know what's going on, but I’ll keep you and Commander Dume safe.”

Hunter and Crosshair catch up to you, and once Crosshair aims his blaster at you and Caleb, Echo is ready to brawl. 

He stands protectively in front of you, gun aimed at the sniper, “If your skinny ass doesn’t put the fucking gun away I swear to-!”

“Both of you stand down!” Hunter will have to get between them, because Echo is 100% willing to shoot Crosshair if it means you stay safe. 

He’s not aware Crosshair doesn't exactly have a choice at the moment.

Really no one is aware.

But he’s lost domino squad, he’s lost Fives, he's lost legion, right now his former general is probably being killed…He’s lost so much already.

He refuses to lose you too.

So Echo pulls the trigger first, settling on stunning him and making a dash towards the ravine. Hunter has to keep up.

Once Caleb is across, he’ll get meetup coordinates from Hunter.

Echo goes with you. He doesn’t return to Kamino. The moment he's across the ravine with you and Caleb he’s a deserter. 

He doesn’t care. He just doesn’t want to lose you.

He’s a strong, determined guard, and one who didn’t let you or Caleb get hurt.

Wrecker

He casts a glance at Hunter before running off after you. 

He has no idea what Order 66 is. Nor does he care.

The guy saw you so…out of it. So scared and confused.

His protective instincts have geared up to 11. 

Hunter goes with him, while Crosshair is the one who remains behind to stall.

Once Tech informs everyone that the Jedi have been named traitors and should be executed on sight, Wrecker gets serious. Very serious. 

He becomes so unlike himself, even Crosshair is surprised.

Honestly? I see Wrecker as someone willing to gun down any ‘reg’ if they’re threatening his squad or s/o. 

Even this early into the Empire.

When he sees you, he’s immediately grabbing you into his arms which causes Caleb to attack.

Admittedly he’s gonna tackle Caleb, only adding to the poor kids terror. 

“Wrecker, you're scaring him!” 

But after a strong bear hug and an “Easy kid! I’m tryna help you!” The padawan calms down enough to listen. 

He puts Caleb down, rips off his helmet and gives you one hell of a kiss. 

He’s worried. He’s scared. And he wants to protect you. 

Hunter will have to talk him down from running off with you.

The sergeant has to keep his squad together. It sucks but they need to figure out what the heck is happening at the moment.

Wrecker desperately wants to go with you but he can’t abandon his squad.

However, he feels much better once Hunter gives some safe coordinates to lay low and hide.

He’ll get you to the ravine and stand guard until you and Caleb are across and out of sight.

You bet your ass when he meets up with you again he’s not letting you go. 

Tech

He isn’t as emotional as the others at the moment. He’s actually focused on gathering as much information in the least amount of time.

He waits, listening to the comm chatter. What is going on? why?

“Execute Order 66.”

After a second, he shares a look with Hunter.

“Tech, go after-”

No more words need to be said. Tech is gone and going after you.

He’s smart. He knows your patterns. He knows where you’d most likely hide. So he focuses on that.

Once he’s confident he’s in a broad area where you and Caleb are, he’s going to call out to you, “Cyare? There’s something called Order 66 on the comms.” 

Tech gives you information first. He won’t make you reveal yourself if you don’t feel safe enough. 

When Echo announces that the Jedi have been charged with treason, he’ll relay that to you. 

“The comms say the Jedi committed treason against the Republic,” He’s going to keep looking around for you, “I know you. You’d never do such a thing. I’m here, Cyare. I can help you.”

Once you reveal yourself, Caleb behind you, he feels the biggest amount of relief. 

He pulls off his helmet, giving you a small smile.

“Tech…The Jedi…” your voice cracks, “They’re being killed…I can feel it.” 

“I know, Cyare…I’m sorry.” He tries his best to comfort you, but he knows he can never understand. 

The amount of Jedi he’s worked with can be counted on one hand. 

But he knows this is your family. Your friends. Your very life.

Once Hunter meets up with you guys, a plan can be put in place. 

He gives you coordinates for a location to meet-up and hide. You’ll lay low with Caleb.

In the meantime, Tech will return to Kamino, figure out what's happening, and from there a better, more long term plan can be made.

Before you leave though, he’s going to give you the longest, most passionate kiss he's ever given you.

He’s well aware that there's a chance you can be found and killed. 

Tech is the only one who has accepted that you may not make it out of this.

But he’s going to keep his mind occupied, distract himself until he’s by your side again. 

Crosshair

As soon as the order goes out, Crosshair is under the influence of the inhibitor chip.

He just doesn’t know. No one does at this point.

He watches you run away with Caleb and the drive to hunt you down is hard to ignore.

He needs to find you to kill you, to protect you.

But, the sudden headache he has is damn near blinding.

Crosshair follows Hunter, keeping his comms on.

He freezes when Tech finds out the Jedi have been marked for execution.

The Inhibitor Chip in his skull is contending with his feelings for you.

He needs to execute save you.

When he spots you he pulls his rifle and aims but barely manages to stop himself.

He can’t hurt you. He needs to kill loves you.

Crosshair draws some sort of conclusion that Kaminoans had conditioned all clones to follow specific orders.

He doesn’t know of the chip. He just assumes it comes from the troopers' conditioning.

When his arms are around your body, for a brief moment he thinks of snapping your neck.

Good soldiers follow orders.

He hates orders.

This is the point where Crosshair knows something is seriously wrong with him.

But he’s not going to say anything yet. He can still fight if need be.

“You need to run…hide…get away from here.” it's a rare moment that he’s scared.

The sniper is desperate to shoot protect you.

The headache is persistent, and it’s somewhat distracting.

But he’ll power through.

Crosshair will wait for Hunter to come up with…something. 

His eyes are on the area around you, gun set to kill in case any reg tries anything.

The plan? Clone Force 99 returns to Kamino while you and Caleb go into hiding. 

You have coordinates. He can find you later. 

But…well Crosshair doesn’t like that. At all.

Hear me out. Like Echo, Crosshair goes with you. He knows somethings up with him, but he trusts himself more than he trusts anyone else.

“Tell Kamino they killed me.” He instructs Hunter, “That I died trying to stop the Jedi and you managed to get justice.”

He crosses the ravine with you, only looking back to nod back to Hunter. 

By the time Crosshair, you and Caleb safely get off the planet, his headache is a small annoyance that goes away with time.

Crosshair sticks with you until he reunites with his squad and notices Omega

Welp, you got Caleb, what's one more kid?

[nahoney22]

I got a fun request for wrecker. nsfw number five and enemies to lovers number two. please combine as you see fit and for your own personal entertainment. Any rating is acceptable, because I saw the lines and said “that’s perfect! We never see Wrecker angry enough to yell.”

Under my Skin*** 🌊

🫧 Pairing: Wrecker x Female Reader

word count: 2.9k

prompts:

“What’re you staring at?” / “You, is that a problem?”

“Fuck you.” / “Say the time and place.”

After being stranded in the middle of nowhere, yourself and Wrecker find yourselves staying at an inn for the night. And after some harsh truths, you both can’t resist the magnetic pull of each other anymore.

warnings: NSFW, 18+. Enemies to lovers, arguing, one bed trope, first kiss, rough kissing, neck kissing, praises, dirty talk, clit play, explicit sexual content and language, abrupt ending, not proofread.

authors note: sorry for the wait @gokyacetakal , I hope this is okay? Enjoy 🫧🩵

Your luck seemed cursed sometimes, and today was no exception. Despite your repeated warnings, Wrecker insisted on his reckless plan. The outcome? Being stranded on a barren planet with the person you despised most in the galaxy: Wrecker.

Some might find it strange to dislike someone like Wrecker, but his incessant protective instincts, especially towards you, were infuriating. You were highly trained in combat, technology, first aid, bomb disposal—everything needed to be a soldier. Yet, he constantly overshadowed you.

“Explain to me why you couldn't just listen, Wrecker? Just this once!” you growled, surveying the desolate landscape, the cold sand sifting through your fingers as the moon cast its pale light on both of you.

“If we had taken your route, we'd be dead. I saved your life,” he scoffed, folding his massive arms across his chest, staring everywhere but at you.

You smirked bitterly. “If we had taken my route, we wouldn't have been ambushed by those raiders. We would have stayed undercover, avoided open terrain, and reached the rendezvous point unscathed. But no, you charged in like a Rancor, turning us into sitting ducks.”

He shifted uncomfortably, clearly aware you were right, and it irked him.

With a deep sigh, you grabbed your supplies and backpack, and started walking ahead, leaving Wrecker behind.

“Where are you going?” he called after you.

“To find out where we are and, ideally, get some food and shelter. Feel free not to follow,” you retorted, not even glancing back. But judging by the large shadow that soon appeared beside you, he did, much to your annoyance.

The walk was silent, the tension between you both thick and uncomfortable. The moon's dim light made the barren landscape appear even more haunting. Every step you took felt weighted by unspoken words and simmering anger.

Then, pain shot through your legs. You grunted, trying to conceal it, but the shin splints slowed you down considerably.

“Why are you slowing down?” Wrecker asked, his voice gruff beside you.

“It’s... nothing,” you sighed, adjusting your slipping backpack. “Just getting tired.”

“Lazy.”

“Shut up.”

You continued for a few more klicks, but the pain became unbearable. You had to stop, bending over to massage your shins in a futile attempt to ease the discomfort. Wrecker halted next to you, raising an eyebrow. “Shin splints?”

You remained silent for a moment, quietly impressed he recognised it immediately. Seeing no point in lying, you nodded.

“I’d give you a stim, but we’re out,” he muttered, waiting for you to compose yourself. As you took a step, you cried out in pain, nearly collapsing.

Wrecker quickly grabbed your arm, steadying you. “Easy there.” His voice is somewhat soft and you can’t help but feel the warmth of his touch on your skin.

Begrudgingly, you muttered a small, “Thanks.” You correct your posture and he lets go, making you suddenly feel cold. Strange.

In the distance, you spotted some lights, suggesting the possibility of a village or settlement. But given your condition, you weren’t sure you could make it.

“Wrecker, look over there,” you said, nodding towards the lights. He followed your gaze, his eyes narrowing as he confirmed the sight.

“I see it,” he replied, his voice gruff but attentive.

“You need to go and ask for help. Tell them what happened,” you urged, wincing as you shifted your weight to alleviate the pain in your shins.

He turned back to you, his expression softening as he read the pain etched on your face. “I’m not leaving you out here alone,” he said firmly. “I’ll carry you.”

Your eyes widened in surprise and discomfort. “No. Definitely not.” You shook your head vigorously, horrified at the thought of being carried like a child.

“We don’t have time to argue about this,” he grunted, his resolve unwavering as he stepped closer. “I’m carrying you.”

Before you could protest further, Wrecker slipped an arm under your legs and another around your waist, lifting you effortlessly into a bridal carry. His strength was incredible, and despite your initial resistance, you couldn’t help but feel a grudging gratitude.

The darkness of the night mercifully hid your flustered expression as your hands instinctively wrapped around the back of his neck for support, his grip on you secure.

"Don't drop me," you muttered, trying to mask your discomfort with a touch of humour.

He hums softly with amusement, the sound resonating in his chest. "No promises."

The lights in the distance grew brighter as Wrecker continued his determined trek with you in his arms . Each step he took seemed to bring a little more assurance that you would find safety, help and to get in contact with the others.

You didn’t know how long Wrecker had been carrying you, but the silence between you had grown deafening. The rhythmic sound of his footsteps against the sand and your own breathing seemed amplified in the stillness of the night.

Somehow, you found yourself gazing up at Wrecker. Your eyes traced the lines of his scarred face and his battered ear, remnants of countless battles and skirmishes.

“What are you staring at?” he grumbled, catching you off guard. His gaze remained fixed ahead, his voice a low rumble.

You glanced away briefly before meeting his eyes again. “You. Is that a problem?”

“Yeah, it’s annoyin’,” he muttered. Despite his gruff tone, you caught a flicker of insecurity crossing his face, a fleeting moment of vulnerability.

Personally, though you would never admit it to him, you thought his scars were fascinating. They told stories of resilience and survival. Of course, earning them undoubtedly would’ve been painful, but you couldn’t help but silently admire them.

“Nothing else to look at around here,” you mutter, gesturing to the barren landscape with a small, wry smile. The desolation of the planet offered no distractions, just endless stretches of sand and rock.

Wrecker huffed, his expression softening just a touch. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.”

After what felt like an eternity, the lights of the settlement finally grew close enough to reveal its source. A small, ramshackle village emerged from the darkness, an assortment of durasteel structures and flickering holosigns offering you both shelter for the night.

Wrecker carried you through the dusty streets, you shifting in his arms as onlookers gave you both curious glances. “How abou’ that one?” He nods to an inn with a flickering neon sign. It was almost rubble but if it gives you a place to rest, it was perfect.

Inside, the innkeeper, a grizzled old Twi'lek, eyed you both warily but softened when he saw your obvious fatigue and Wrecker’s determined expression.

He lets you down carefully and both of you pooled your remaining credits, just enough for a single room. As the Twi'lek handed you the fob, he mentioned an unfortunate detail.

“Only one bed in there,” he said gruffly. “Take it or leave it.”

You glanced at Wrecker, your annoyance bubbling up again. “Great. Just great.”

Wrecker shrugged, surprising you with his clearly unfazed look. “Better than nothin’.”

Luckily the room was just down the hall so you could just about walk, or should you say ‘hobble’, towards the room.

It was small and sparsely furnished, with a single, surprisingly large bed taking up most of the space. You dropped your gear near the door before turning to look at the bed with your hands on your hips.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” you declared.

“Don’t be dumb,” Wrecker replied, setting his gear down and peeling off his armour. “We can share the bed. It’s big enough.”

You shot him a look with wide eyes. “Not happening.”

Wrecker’s eyes darkened with irritation. “Why do ya have to make everything so difficult?”

“Why do you always have to be the hero?” you snapped back, the frustration you’d been holding back for so long spilling out. “It’s like you think I’m incapable of handling myself. I’m trained, Wrecker. I can fight, I can think, I can take care of myself.”

His brow furrowed, confusion and irritation mingling on his face. “I know you can handle yourself. I’m just tryin’ to keep ya safe.”

“By constantly overshadowing me? By making decisions for me? Do you know how frustrating it is to have someone always step in like I’m some… some…helpless rookie?” you retorted, your voice rising as your hand flailed in the air. “I joined this squad to make a difference, not to be protected like some fragile thing.”

He rolls his eyes, folding his arms over his bread chest. “Maybe if you weren’t so stubborn and actually worked with me for once instead of against me, we wouldn’t be in this mess!” he shot back, stepping closer. The glow from the room's dim light fixture cast long shadows on his rugged features.

“I’m not against you, Wrecker. I’m against you treating me like I’m less capable. Like I’m not part of this team. You don’t trust my judgment. You didn’t listen to me back there, and now we’re stuck on this kriffing planet,” you shouted, the words pouring out in a torrent of pent-up anger and hurt.

“Fine, you want the truth?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, like the rumble of an approaching sandstorm. “I don’t want ya to get hurt. You might not see it but I do; you put yourself at risk way too many times.”

The intensity of his admission took you aback, but your anger still simmered beneath the surface. “And you don’t? I don’t need a savior, Wrecker. I need a partner. Someone who respects my abilities and trusts me to do my part.”

Wrecker sighed heavily and rubbed the side of his temple, clearly getting a headache. “Whatever. We’ll talk about this another time. So stop actin’ like a brat and lay in bed.”

“You’re the kriffing brat,” you grumbled, looking away from him, but he heard you.

“Fuck you,” he finally snapped, his chest heaving with barely restrained emotion.

You had never heard or seen him swear like this before. His eyes were dark, filled with an intensity you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t rage. It was something more complex, something that made something in you snap as well. Without really thinking about it, you retorted, “Say the time and place.”

You both stilled, your breaths echoing around the small room as the weight of what you’d said settled in. His jaw clenched, and that unreadable look intensified in his eyes. Meticulously, he slid one glove off, his movements slow and deliberate. “Alright. How about right here?”

Your eyes widened, but you didn’t deny him. Words stuck in your throat as you watched him slide the other glove off before he had you backing up into the wall. “Right now.”

“W-Wrecker… I…”

You couldn’t stop the soft, muffled whine that escaped against Wrecker’s lips as he kissed you, hot, messy, and slightly aggressive. But you welcomed it, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Your eyes fluttered closed as he backed you up against the wall with a thud.

Subconsciously, you tilted your head, allowing one of his large hands to slide up to the nape of your neck, cupping it firmly and keeping you close. His lips worked expertly against yours, slick with spit as he pried your mouth apart and slipped his tongue inside which made your core pang with a heat.

“Mmmm,” you moaned softly into his mouth, going numb against his body. The kiss was fierce, full of pent-up frustration and longing, and it consumed you both. His free hand gripped your waist, and you found your legs spreading open when his hot, wet muscle danced with yours. The kiss deepened, becoming a battle of tongues and teeth for dominance while simultaneously giving in to the other.

His other hand moved to your hip from your neck, pulling you even closer, and you could feel the hard planes of his body pressed against yours. You tug on his under armour and you feel a large smirk tug on his lips before he breaks the kiss, pulling himself out of his clothes where your eyes almost bulge out of your head at the sight of his large, bare muscular chest. “Wow.” You mutter to yourself, breathless.

“Like what you see, pretty girl?” He tilts his head down at you, taking your hand and placing it against his sturdy abdomen.

You swallow, feeling your panties getting increasingly wetter as your fingers trace across his bare skin. “Uh-huh.”

Wrecker then lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively as he carried you to the bed. The galaxy seemed to blur as he laid you down gently, his large frame hovering over you, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

As your hands slid up his broad chest, feeling every scar and vein until they wrap around his neck, you tugged him down to you, the desire for him thick like the growing appendage in his pants. “Can I look at you?” He whispers, soft for such a big man.

You nod eagerly and allow Wrecker to slide his hands under your shirt, caressing your stomach before he helps pull your shirt over your head leaving your upper body bare apart from just a bra.

“You look so pretty, baby.” He admires, one hand cupping your breast over your bra that had you softly moaning until his fingers dug into your waist, his grip almost bruising but in a way that only makes your body tremble in pleasure.

He crawls over the top of you, stealing your lips in another deep kiss. You had broken the kiss briefly, gasping for air, but Wrecker didn’t give you much of a chance to breathe. His lips were back on yours in an instant, more insistent and demanding. The intensity of his need matched your own, and you felt yourself melting into him, “Why didn’t we do this sooner?” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and breathless.

You could only respond with a desperate, needy kiss, your fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him even closer than before. Wrecker's weight pressed down on you, grounding you, his warmth enveloping you completely. His hands roamed your body, memorising every curve and contour, while his lips continued their relentless assault on yours. Each kiss, each touch, was a declaration, a recognition of everything you both had kept bottled up for so long.

As he moved his lips to your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, you arched into him, a soft moan escaping your lips. His name fell from your lips like a prayer and full of need.

“Wrecker…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He paused, lifting his head to look into your eyes, his gaze softening slightly as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his tone a tender intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

In that moment, surrounded by the soft hum of the room and the distant sounds of the settlement outside, you felt something shift between you. The anger, the frustration, the tension—all of it melted away, replaced by a deep, undeniable connection that neither of you could ignore.

As Wrecker’s lips found yours once more, you felt his hand slide down your body, his touch sending electric shivers through you. His fingers found their way to the waistband of your pants, and without breaking the kiss, he slipped his hand inside. The sensation was overwhelming, and you arched into him, needing him, a gasp escaping your lips as his fingers brushed against your slick heat.

“Oh, fuck…” you moaned, your breath hitching at the sensation. His touch was both gentle and possessive, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Meanwhile, you could feel his arousal pressed against you, hard and insistent.

“Feels like you’ve been wanting this as much as I have,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

You could only nod, too overwhelmed to form words. His fingers moved with practiced skill, teasing and exploring, driving you closer to the edge with every touch.

His lips moved back to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he continued to drive you wild with his touch and kisses. Your hands roamed his body, feeling the hard muscles beneath his skin.

Wrecker’s fingers slid down further, parting your folds and finding your clit, circling it with an expert touch that had you crying out. Your hips bucked against his hand, seeking more friction, more of the pleasure he was giving you.

“Wrecker… please…” you begged, your voice a desperate whisper.

He didn’t need any further encouragement. His movements became more urgent, his touch more demanding as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, every sensation heightened, every touch electric. “Good girl. Cum for me.”

And then, with a final, shattering kiss, he pushed you over the edge, his fingers delving deeper into your pussy as your body trembled with the force of your release. You clung to him, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your mind reeling from the intensity of it all. “That’s it sweetie, you did so well.”

As the waves of pleasure subsided, you lay there, wrapped in his arms, your bodies pressed close together. Everything outside the room suddenly felt distant and unimportant, the only thing that mattered was you two… whatever you were.

Wrecker’s eyes met yours, a mixture of satisfaction and something deeper reflected in his gaze. “I guess we don’t need to argue about the bed anymore.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, tracing a finger over his skin. “Yeah, I guess not.”

Wrecker Works

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[sinfulsalutations]

𝕨𝕖𝕚𝕣𝕕 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕗𝕦𝕔𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕦𝕝 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕖𝕔𝕙

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ᴛᴇᴄʜ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ☆ ᴛᴇᴄʜ'ꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ꜱᴛʀᴜɢɢʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ꜱᴏʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ.

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ᴍɪɴᴏʀ ꜱʟᴏᴡ ʙᴜʀɴ, ᴛᴇᴄʜ ɪꜱ ᴀᴜᴛɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ɴᴇᴜʀᴏᴅɪᴠᴇʀɢᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ, ᴅᴇᴠᴇʟᴏᴘɪɴɢ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ, ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴅᴇɴɪᴀʟ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴘᴀᴛɪᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ, ᴘʜɪʟᴏꜱᴏᴘʜʏ, ꜰᴀᴛᴇ & ᴅᴇꜱᴛɪɴʏ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴅᴇʀɪɴɢꜱ (ꜱᴏʀʀʏ), ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴋɪꜱꜱ, ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴛᴜᴅʏ ꜱᴏʀᴛ ᴏꜰ

➼ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ☆ 10ᴋ (ᴜʜʜʜʜʜʜ ᴏᴏᴘꜱ)

➼ ᴘᴏᴠ ☆ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ

➼ ʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ ☆ ᴅɪᴠɪɴᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴠᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀʀᴛɪᴄʟᴇ ʟᴏᴏꜱᴇʟʏ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴀᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇɴꜱ/ʏᴜꜱᴜꜰ ɪꜱʟᴀᴍ, ꜰᴀɪᴛʜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀᴛʜᴇɪꜱᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɢɴᴏꜱᴛɪᴄꜱ ʙʏ ᴡᴀʟʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴀ. ᴍᴜʀᴘʜᴇᴇ

➼ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ ☆ ꜱɴᴏᴡ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴄʜ - ᴛᴀʏʟᴏʀ ꜱᴡɪꜰᴛ ꜰᴛ ʟᴀɴᴀ ᴅᴇʟ ʀᴇʏ, ɪɴᴠɪꜱɪʙʟᴇ ꜱᴛʀɪɴɢ - ᴛᴀʏʟᴏʀ ꜱᴡɪꜰᴛ, ʙᴀɢꜱ - ᴄʟᴀɪʀᴏ, ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ - ᴛʜᴇ 1975

⋆ ★ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢꜰɪᴄ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇᴅ @cloneficgiftexchange. ᴍʏ ɢɪꜰᴛᴇᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ @isaidonyourknees, ᴛʜᴇ ʟʏʀɪᴄꜱ ʙᴇɪɴɢ: "ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ // ᴘᴀꜱꜱɪɴɢ ʙʏ ᴜɴʙᴇᴋɴᴏᴡɴꜱᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ" (ꜱɴᴏᴡ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴄʜ ʙʏ ᴛᴀʏʟᴏʀ ꜱᴡɪꜰᴛ ꜰᴛ. ʟᴀɴᴀ ᴅᴇʟ ʀᴇʏ)

ɪ ᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴘᴏᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ; ᴀꜱ ᴀ ɴᴇᴜʀᴏᴅɪᴠᴇʀɢᴇɴᴛ, ɪ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍʏꜱᴇʟꜰ ɪɴ ᴛᴇᴄʜ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀꜱ ɪ ʙᴇɢᴀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴇxᴘʟᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜɪᴍ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ, ɪ ᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴘᴜᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏꜱᴇʟꜰ ɪɴᴛᴏ ɪᴛ. ꜱᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ. ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ :)

ᴀʟꜱᴏ ꜱʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏʟᴏᴄʜᴇꜱꜱ ᴘᴅꜰ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴊᴀʀɪᴋ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ɪ ʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇᴅ ʀᴇʟɪɢɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ (ʜᴇʜ) ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴊᴀʀɪᴋ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇ.

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

Tech isn’t a believer in fate.

It’s hard to believe in something so ardently human when he was conjured out of something quite inhuman. Even then, he’s always been a man of science – facts and occurrences that could be proven without falter appeal to him the most. 

The mere idea of fate comes from a natural need for most to believe in something higher than them – but Tech and his brothers had no reason to fall back on such a comforting blanket. It’s almost a shame, he could deduce, but now that he’s never depended on such a thing, Tech doesn’t know why he should ever seek it out.

Thinking of some invisible string, predestined outcome, interlinked paths and journeys leading to the same end doesn’t comfort him in the slightest. If anything, he thinks himself too intelligent to believe in such things. He won’t look down on others for having those philosophies tethered close to their chest, but no matter how hard he tries and makes himself believe, the simple, straightforward fundamentals of the universe are undeniable in his eyes.

It’s just the truth. It can’t be proven otherwise.

Now, Tech has grown significantly from the first years of the Clone Wars – despite his stubborn, know-it-all demeanor, Tech still strives to learn and adapt and evolve into his best self – and much has changed. His belief in fate remains the pillar of his mindset through even menial life, though sometimes he can feel slivers of his humanity slipping past that desperately beg him to believe.

Because on further recollection, the unfamiliar yet pleasant shiver that ran past him the day he properly met you felt far too destined to be the product of mathematical chance. 

It’s like a fresh breeze against his skin after a lifetime in blistering heat, a breath taken right before plunging into oceanic depth, unexplored. Tech never considered himself a pioneer, but the first time he speaks to you, he feels like he’s treading frontiers never seen before. Though in reality, if he were to be brutally honest with himself, it only feels so new because Tech doesn’t normally like to indulge in such things.

Though, he doesn’t know this at an initial glance, of course. It takes him countless nights to come to these conclusions.

It starts simple, and begins with stiffness; you wave in his direction when he passes by your stall in the village market. The first few times, Tech doesn’t even acknowledge it, storing the action but deducing the wave isn’t meant for him. He doesn’t notice how your smile drops and your expression turns numbly neutral again when he doesn’t notice you.

Eventually, he finally realizes that your greetings are meant for him. If you had stopped greeting him in defeat, Tech may have never realized. But your insistence on getting him to acknowledge you isn’t in vain.

Tech watches you wave with a keen smile, and he turns around, expecting to see someone avidly waving back in your direction. When he doesn’t see anyone else and turns back again, your gaze still fixed on him, he blinks once–twice, thrice– and tucks his datapad into his pouch. Something almost smug crosses your face when he begins to walk to your stall.

“Hey there stranger,” you greet playfully. 

Once Tech hears your voice properly, he begins to piece together moments of familiarity; that same voice speaking calmly to Hunter over the sound of patrons in Cid’s parlor, your eyes staring into his for a split second to exchange some nothing words about something Tech can’t recall. Based on everything else he can recall, you must’ve been in tangles (loathsome or not) with Cid, which can explain why you were speaking to them. But still, he can’t quite understand why a split moment like that would make you so comfortable to greet him like this.

“Hello,” Tech answers you politely, stiffly. You don’t seem to be bothered.

“How long have you and your brothers been on Ord Mantell this time around?” That’s your first question, palms pressing to your stall table to lean over. You still aren’t close enough to the point Tech would become uncomfortable and needs to pull away, but he takes note of your manner.

“We just arrived last night. But we’ll be staying for some time longer to restock.” Tech answers mathematically because it’s the only way he knows how to speak to someone like you– a stranger .

You hum. “No wonder it’s been a while since I’ve seen you around. Or Wrecker and Omega. They always stop by the Mantell Mix stand whenever you're here.” 

Tech sneaks a glance to his left and realizes your seamster stand is situated right next to the stand selling Mantell Mix that the Omega and Wrecker always frequent. 

That makes more sense.

“Omega’s currently resting, last I saw her,” Tech explains, though he wonders if an explanation is obligated in this situation. 

“How is she doing?” You ask.

“She’s doing well.”

You smile. “I’m glad.”

Tech flips up his visor to get a better look at you. He tries not to stare for too long – from his understanding, it’s rude – but he still takes a hefty time taking you in. You’re your own person, just like everyone else in the world is; there’s no reason for him to be enraptured by anything more. Yet his eyes keep getting caught on the curve of your neck to your shoulder, how your hairline meets your ear, how you hold your jaw up. 

It’s nothing out of the ordinary, yet that same juvenile feeling of destiny rushes through him again. A flush of red on his cheeks, a warm sense of typical affection. 

You couldn’t be the cause, could you?

It’s something about you, isn’t it?

That can’t be right.

“I haven’t talked to you much.” Your next words snap Tech out of his trance but his mind still races through different ideas. He’s not accustomed to this feeling of distraction; his thoughts are usually so methodical and precise. 

“I suppose we haven’t had the chance,” Tech finally settles on the answer, voice softening purposefully to seem less standoffish. The corner of your lips turns up at his reply.

“There’s no time like the present, right?” you respond, as peppy as ever. Though, perhaps you’re less peppy than he thinks, but just ten times livelier than him. 

“What do you do when you’re not out saving the galaxy with your brothers?” You then ask, and Tech’s first instinct is to ask what led her to believe they were doing such a thing; a worry of that’s rude and dismissive overwhelms the initial thought, and he holds his tongue.

He thinks over the question, momentarily scrambling to think of an answer that doesn’t involve discussing the batch’s next move or tactical strategies. 

“I… study. Research,” he answers vaguely, mentally berating himself for not preparing a better response.

Your jaw slacks, mouth forming a small ‘o.’ 

“That makes sense, considering you’re always on that datapad of yours.” Instinctively, almost defensively, Tech’s hand reaches for the pouch that carries his datapad, and then you’re smiling again. He isn’t lying when he speaks of studying and researching; in fact, more recently he has been studying the origins of faith and mythology. He recalls it again when he looks at you, ideas of the Maker’s beautiful handcraft. He’d like to believe in those beliefs, especially staring into your eyes now, that face so perfectly molded by a touch of godlike divinity or something else entirely–

Or perhaps he’s wishing he could believe in something so below him.

His mind shuts down any other thought, any other command, besides retreat.

“I should leave now,” he states matter-of-factly, trying not to look at how your face contorts with his change of mind. 

“I enjoyed speaking with you,” he adds at the end to soften the blow. He’s unsure if it works.

You flash a smile, more bitter than before. 

“So did I,” you say.

Tech turns on his heel and walks away. As he returns to Cid’s parlor, stomach flipping in ways he’s never felt before, Tech concludes stubbornly that you are no product of divinity, that the color of your eyes and etch of your smile aren’t utterly spectacular pigments of the Maker’s creation. A thought like that isn’t aligned with his previous beliefs, and he isn’t one to abandon something so fundamentally, provably true. Tech is a man of science, not a critic of artistic elegance.

-

Inconveniently, that isn’t the last time Tech speaks to you. Far from it.

Not only have you continued to wave his direction whenever he crosses your way – and he always waves back, no matter what, even if there’s no reason for him to familiarize himself with you – but you frequent Cid’s parlor more than he realizes. Perhaps he hadn’t taken notice of you before —just regarded you as another patron— but now he certainly has.

He sees you once again talking to Cid directly, voice hushed and chin tipped low while you speak to each other. Your expression is no more serious than what he’s seen before—it may suggest the conversation is entirely casual, but Tech knows better than to think there’s no ulterior scheming if you’re talking to Cid of all people.

Hunter’s voice cuts through like a knife, pulling him out of his previous trance.

“You’re looking at the civvy again,” he says.

Tech shakes his head adamantly, immediately.

“I’m not,” that’s how he replies to Hunter, but both of them know he’s incorrect.

“Hm,” Hunter mumbles, unbothered by Tech’s dishonesty. Instead, he moves on to the next topic. “Why don’t you talk to her?”

Tech tilts his head.

“She’s friendly,” Hunter then adds. “And I’m sure she won’t mind if you struck up a conversation.”

The idea of Tech walking up to an acquaintance, practically a stranger to drum up unnecessary conversation doesn’t sit right with him. It’s entirely unlikely. Not a viable outcome in the probability and spontaneity of the turmoil that is the galaxy.

“I’m sure she’d rather have a conversation with someone other than me. Someone as lively,” Tech says, attempting to keep an unaffected expression on his face. “Perhaps Wrecker, or Omega.”

Hunter purses his lips. And then he shrugs, which perplexes Tech.

“She talks to me and Echo just fine.”

Wrecker butts in, a level of energy above the rest as usual, and encourages him,

“Yeah! Make some friends, Tech!”

and his stomach twists, partly offended at the implication of their words, and partly discomforted by being pushed out of his comfort box out of his autonomy. Tech says something he truly feels, albeit cold, but he feels it's the only words that keep him safe and sane in his zone of stark, 

“Who said I want to make friends?”

Just then, Hunter perks up, eyes darting away from Tech and looking behind him. Tech then turns before looking back again; he’s unsure why he wants to appear so casual–perhaps it’s you, though.

“Hello boys,” You greet them all with a little wave as you lean your body on the booth’s table, looking at everyone; Hunter, who waves and smiles small and quickly; Echo, who appears relieved by the intervention; Wrecker, prepared to say hello in a booming, friendly voice; and Tech, who tilts his chin down so he can’t see that face he worries might be celestial.

“Well hello to you too!” Wrecker smiles for you big and wide, attempting to make up for the lackluster welcome you receive from the rest of the batch. You smile wider, and Tech tightens his lips. The same feeling rushes down his spine, settling in his stomach. Twice now. Twice in your proximity. If it happens thrice, Tech won’t be able to dismiss it as a coincidence.

“Are you looking for Omega?” Hunter asks, debating your reason for approaching them. “She’s asleep already. I understand you wanted to teach her a bit of Dejarik strategy…”

You shake your head loosely with a shrug.

“Not necessarily, no,” you speak like you’re bargaining, Tech notices; as though you’re trying to sell a product, or charm your buyer. “I’d like to say hello to all of you.”

Echo smiles softly. “It’s nice to see you around,” he says. Perhaps you’ve been in closer proximity to the rest of his brothers more than Tech thought.

“Yeah, very nice!” Wrecker says, still so enthusiastic Tech almost cringes.

You shift your weight on the table, one hand leaning over to keep yourself upright while the rest of your body casually careens in their general direction.

“So…” She begins, smile turning coy and probing. “What brings a band of brothers like you–”

Before she can finish her sentence, a scaly hand clasps her shoulder, and she turns. Cid looms over the booth now, seemingly unamused by the interaction. 

Though, when does Cid ever look amused? Tech things.

“Hey, bandana, goggles, the other ones,” she snubs. Tech scrunches his face. Cid gestures toward her backroom office. “Over here. I got something to discuss with you.”

She leaves it at that, and you slowly turn your gaze back to the boys, slightly squeamish. As though you shouldn’t be there. Wordlessly, you leave, and as the boys shuffle out of the booth, Tech can’t help but turn and catch a fleeting glimpse of you before disappearing into the room.

Business. That’s all Cid discusses with them. In her defense, they never exchange any other words besides those that regard business, but it still causes Tech to frown. Her interruption could’ve been saved until after you’d finished speaking; instead, Cid clapped your shoulder and dismissed you, your face painted with an expression of valid disregard, and Tech didn’t like it at all.

When the batch finishes discussing their next job with Cid, he exits the back room and is surprised to see you are still there. Instead of talking to anyone, you’re shuffling through a few credits at the bar table, nursing what looks like water. Who drinks liquor during the day, anyway?

The batch each returns to menial tasks; Hunter and Echo go to check on the ship and Omega, Wrecker finds some random patrons to play a round of darts with, and Tech’s feet find an indirect path back to you.

“Your question,” he begins monotonously. It seems his whole body moves at its own autonomy rather than his command because suddenly Tech can’t seem to recall how he got into this position. 

You turn, surprise etched into your expression.

“Excuse me?”

Tech quickly debates his limited options. Now that you’ve acknowledged him, there’s simply no way he could back out now. At least, that’s what seems courteous.

“C-Cid interrupted you. So you never got to ask your question.”

Your mouth falls into a little ‘o’ shape, so delicately parted Tech’s entire expression softens ever so slightly.

“Thanks for asking,” you answer with genuine care for his consideration. “…I was just going to ask what brings a group like you to this parlor so often.” Tech hums, encouraging to continue even when you bite your lip. “We’re not exactly very accommodating for long, and…” He picks up on your choice of the words, we’re. “…unless Cid is using you as her lapdogs—“

A momentary pause in your sentence leaves enough space for Tech, now incredibly curious, to interrupt.

“Lapdogs?”

There’s no statistical way to predict how you’ll respond. But Tech considers his past experiences with you, how you’ve replied and reacted to his abrupt words before, and he awaits a response as peppy as you usually are. Instead, it’s radio silence. Deafening, discomforting, haunting silence.

Your gaze drifts down, tongue swiping over your bottom lip momentarily as you ponder your next words. Finally, you gaze up again, and Tech’s breath returns.

“Can you forget I said that?” Is your choice of words. It’s a strange choice, perhaps, at least in Tech’s eyes, but he lets it pass. 

Only because… Only because…

“I’ll try,” Tech says.

You smile, warm and friendly and alien.

“I’ll see you, Tech.”

He does continue to see you around the parlor – quite often, actually. More often than not, you’re playing Dejarik with another patron. He’s unconsciously begun to catalog your different smiles– when you play, your smile is always smug, bordering on something nefarious. Tech has also noticed the same expression on your opponent's face every time you finish a game; the same disgruntled, disappointed look on them when they push themselves off the chair and grovel, leaving with fewer credits than they had entered with.

You seem to win so frequently and collect large wads of money, he begins to wonder if you make more money in your games of Dejarik than at your stall. However, he fears that he’ll look like a vermin invading in your business if he tries to calculate your earnings so adamantly. 

Rather, you probe him yourself.

Tech is sitting on a barstool, absentmindedly reading another research paper he scoured the holonet for. This time, he’s reading up on the phenomenon of divine intervention. Near-death experiences when someone‘s pulled out of the water right before they take their last breath, that precipice of halting existence in the material plane before you’re brought right back in, by somethingmightier than you.

He’s grazed death many times before. It’s simply a part of existence as a Jango Fett clone. He deals with the risk of death every day he steps on a new planet, even after the war has ended. Nothing has ever felt like a pull out of the water before drowning, a gust of air rushing through his lungs mere seconds before he’s taken out of this world.

Though, perhaps divine intervention doesn’t just apply to moments right before death. As he reaches the counter-rebuttal section of the paper, your voice folds and floats over his skin like silk.

“What are you researching this time?”

Tech looks up from his datapad immediately, tucking it away, as he knows if he keeps it open, his instinct will want to retract back to his comfort zone.

“The phenomenon of divine intervention,” he says, feeling no need to lie. “Or rather, stories of those who believe they’ve experienced such a thing.”

You nod, keenly interested; he’s not used to someone caring to listen to any of his ramblings. You then place your elbows on the Dejarik table, almost teasing-like, leaning toward him in invitation.

“So you’re not a believer?” Your words aren’t insulted; they still wade in pools of curiosity, and those damn eyes trap him in again.

Again, he feels no need to lie to you. Not about this.

“In divine interventions? No,” Tech shakes his head.

You huff.

“That’s a shame,” you jest, opening your arms even further, just begging for him to crawl his way further. “I’d make a joke about how I’m a divine intervention right now.”

Tech raises an eyebrow. Your smile widens.

“I’m intervening oh-so-divinely to invite you for a game,” you gesture to the Dejarik board with a mousy scrunch of your nose.

You must be in his head. That’s it. There’s no other explanation for how you burrow into it so fast, know every thought that’s been plaguing his busied mind ever since he first properly spoke with you. Perhaps he should’ve, would’ve denied you a game another time, but in an instant Tech is pulling out the chair across from you and taking a seat to play.

Only because… Only because…

Why don’t I know?

You smile again, passing him a die to roll and turning on the holograms, each piece appearing unselected.

“Let’s play,” you say.

Tech nods stiffly.

“Let’s.”

Through the years, Tech has taken a liking to Dejarik. He enjoys the mathematical element, the perfect balance of strategy and luck that can’t be faked or excused by some higher entity. Though as much as he enjoys playing, he enjoys watching others play more. Trying to pick apart their thought process as they actively spell out their strategy onto the board, whether they emerge victorious or indebted. And even though he’s playing, he’s never been more fascinated watching another.

Each of you takes turns rolling a die and picking your pieces. You don’t hesitate with your choices, divisive when you place them on your side and Tech admires the confidence on your face. He isn’t 

“Do you want to bet some credits?” Tech asks, assuming you’d want a gain out of a game. He’d never seen you play Dejarik for fun before.

You push your eyebrows together, a tiny grin gracing your face.

“I’m not trying to get money out of you. I’m playing just for fun.”

Tech shrugs.

“Just a few. Just for fun,” he shuffles through his pockets and places two credits on the table, raising an invitational eyebrow. The exhilaration that washes over your entire face is incredibly worth it.

The game begins after that. Not before you bet three credits yourself, of course.

Just as he expects from astute (neurotic) observation, you are mostly silent when you play, save for little quips as you’re deciding your next move. You move your pieces with precision, and instead of reaching him first, you let Tech’s pieces meet you in the middle.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you tease when his Houjix meets your Monnok. Tech bites the inside of his cheek, trying to avoid smiling like a fool. 

Two full turns pass after that. Tech attempts to roll back with a witty remark, but he worries it comes out swell-headed. After all, he doesn’t want you put off of him entirely. Maybe just a little. Just so he isn’t irreligiously blessed with you far too much.

Besides that, Tech’s put you in an unfavorable position. One he hadn’t expected. He’s seen you play; you move and strategize with the grace and expertise of any master swindler. But here you are, your Monnok pinned between his Ghhhk and K’lor’slug. There’s little chance you’ll be able to defend; with a power piece like Monnok against a flanked defense, he’s

“You seem to have me cornered, Tech,” you say casually, unbothered. He frowns, puzzled.

“I do.”

“Well?” You lean back, hands neatly folded on your lap, ambivalent to your defeat. Waiting for his next move.

Tech attacks your piece. It’s killed with no buffer. When his eyes return to your gaze, he doesn’t expect you to remain so nonchalant about the loss. But you’re tipping your chin down in respect and pushing the credits to his side.

“Good game,” you say. “`Really got me there.”

Tech’s frown deepens, confused by your impartial feelings.

“You were winning up until that last turn,” he says, thinking out loud for a moment. “The only thing that got me back up was that counter-kill.”

You shrug.

“Beginner’s luck?” You bargain, but Tech doesn’t like that answer. Luck is plentifully part of the universe, but it’s far too abstract and all-encompassing to play a role in one Dejarik game. One dice roll.

Instead, Tech just returns the shrug. Perhaps some things don’t have to be over-analyzed, despite the discomfort it gives him to leave it at that.

You look at him with those unholy-holy eyes of yours again, and Tech tenses his jaw.

“Another game?”

Tech doesn’t answer verbally but rather picks up a die and begins to shake. You smile.

The air between the two of you doesn’t change, the same quips and expressions exchanged– Wrecker even notices and becomes your one-man crowd– but this time, Tech is humiliated. Immediately, he loses his Attack and Mobility pieces, realizing his flaw is his flow of movement on the board far too late in the game. He can’t save his pieces before you’ve killed all of them, three of your four remaining triumphant on the board.

His mind does it again. Contradicts his previous belief. Luck is the first thought that crosses his mind when he recalls the last two games. Deliberate luck. Something incomprehensible to those on his plane to understand intentionally changing the course. Something entirely false, entirely juxtaposing everything Tech knows to be true.

You’re then bringing the five credits over to your side, shuffling them around in your palm momentarily with a smile.

“Look at that. I’m rich,” you joke. Wrecker howls out a laugh, but your eyes are only focused on Tech when he returns you the softest grin.

You’ve played him. It’s a classic little hustle. But he knows that. You know that. You know that he knows that.

His first win isn’t beginner’s luck, and your totalitarian victory isn’t just the luck of the draw. It’s clear on your face.

Perhaps you’re not much of a believer in fate either.

-

Tech allows the moment to simmer. In the back of his mind, he’s still anxious to approach you on his own with seemingly no reason other than just wanting to. It doesn’t feel right to him. Far too out of his nature to do spontaneously.

He only allows himself to indulge in a conversation once the air has settled, and only if you initiate the conversation first.

You do. Well, technically. You wave him over to your stall, and he greets you with exactly what’s been going on in his mind.

“You flank with your offensive piece and reinforce with your defensive piece.”

You blink at him, then blink again, smile slowly turning more dumbly awestruck in your surprise. Nice work, Tech. 

“I-It throws people off,” he finishes his thought. Can’t hurt to finish the blow, can it?

Your grin is all teeth and cheek, the crinkles in the corners of your eyes clear as day. Tech isn’t sure what feeling rushes through him when he notices it, but it certainly is pleasant.

“Oh?” That’s all you say. All you give Tech to work with.

He licks his lips with no aim.

“...Oh.”

You snicker, shoulders tensing, but your actions haven’t given a clear stay-away warning. He’s still in the clear.

“You open with your movement piece,” he recalls how you played last night, and the countless other times he’s watched you match against others. “In the first game, you moved your Molator twice, and in the second, you moved the K’lor’slug only once–” You nod in agreement, which gives Tech the green light to continue rambling. “–But you didn’t break the inner circle in the first turn for either game. You wait for your opponent to move inward before you break in.”

You shrug, still grinning all wide, and that rush of fate overtakes him again. This time, he doesn’t stuff it down with an adamant rejection but rather ignores it with little regard instead.

Only because… Only because…

“Can’t argue with that,” you say. “I skirt.”

“Some would say you’re attempting a classic round-table defense tactic. But I think you’re just a strategic attacker.”

“All attackers have to be strategic.”

“Sure. But you attack as though the game lasts twenty rounds. You attack for a long-run victory. One that takes multiple games to enact.” Tech gazes away, feeling himself getting caught up in his words again, pushing up the bridge of his goggles. “It’s– It’s a playing style most people don’t expect.”

Finally, Tech gets the common sense to stop explaining to you your own strategy and clears his throat, fingers locking in and out as he lays out his next words.

“...Or, at least I think. From what I observed.”

You huff, exasperated; or maybe amused.

“You observed correctly,” you say, and Tech’s shoulders heave oh-so-subtly as he sighs in relief.

“I’ve played plenty of Dejarik before. And watched others play,” he replies as smoothly as possible.

With a hum, you tilt your head, still so enraptured in the conversation. He wonders for a split second over what enchanted you. It’s uncharacteristic… yes.

“Is that how Omega got so good?” You then ask.

Tech considers your words, his half-shrug turning into a hand gesture.

“Not exactly,” he says. “She has a knack for those sorts of games on her own. But–but that’s not the point I was trying to make.”

Your eyebrows perk up.

“Well then, please continue, Tech.”

Oh, does he love the sound of his name on your lips. It’s far too–not perfect, no–it’s far too pretty to be wrapping around something, someoneso statically unmatched for you.

“I’ve read plenty on Dejarik tactics, variants, openers… you don’t play in a way that shows you know them. That you’ve ever read them. That the idea of tactic and strategy in Dejarik even exists .”

You tilt your head, urging him to continue. You have that same look of fierce curiosity in your eyes that Tech is beginning to adore.

“You might play those tactics and moves, but it’s not on purpose. It’s by chance. Because, of course, where do those strategies come from? Those who play first.” Tech gestures toward your figure again. “You play like you’re the first to ever do it. Like you made Dejarik yourself. Like the game is yours .”

For a split second, Tech seriously considers that he may have gone too far. But your contemplative face tells you otherwise. You’re still genuinely considering what he has to say.

You let out one more disbelieving breath, head dipping down with a bashful shake of your head. 

“Well, I’m flattered you think of me that way,” you reply, biting your lip. “Though I’m afraid that’s too much to deduce from two games… don’t you think?”

“I’ve seen you play,” he says right after you finish. But it’s not long before he regrets it. He watches you tilt your head and he takes a deep breath. “...I, observed.”

You nod along, but Tech worries that you don’t believe him. But he wouldn’t believe him either.

“You’re clever,” Tech adds just to see that smile again. You give it to him, graciously.

“No one’s used that word to describe me,” you shrug. “After I beat someone, I usually get the typical pantheon of shallow insults.” Tech stares at you puzzled, and you shift your weight to ease the tension in your shoulders. 

“‘Thieving bitch,’ ‘Conniving whore,’” You list examples with a mild expression of annoyance, “Sometimes just a simple ‘Fucker’ before they’re lunging over the table.”

Tech’s eyebrows push together.

“ Lunging? ”

You laugh teasingly, but not unkindly.

“Sometimes sore losers get aggressive,” you explain. “But Cid never lets that slide.”

“Are you in close contact with her?” Is his next question, though he’s unsure how you might respond. With a purse of your lips, you lean back, increasing the distance between the two of you.

“I guess you could say that,” is your response. “It’s… complicated.”

Tech feels it. How soft and undisturbed he feels in your presence. He’s suddenly no longer having a natural urge to overthink your words and conjure up the perfect response (even if it doesn’t prove successful). He can leave what you say just as it is.

Only because…

Only because what? What makes this special? What makes you special? He’d never once questioned his stance of faith. And he won’t let something like this change it either. So how can you even exist, live, and grace his world so effortlessly as though you know nothing of the way you disrupt his being?

It’s discomforting. It’s enticing. It’s foreign.

“That’s fair, I suppose,” he says. “I think I’d respond the same if you asked me that question.”

You grin, gentler than he’s ever seen it, and Tech is left to seriously debate the existence of material contradictions. 

-

Without your own volition, you continue to occupy Tech’s mind, both in his dreams and in his wake. On missions when he isn’t forced to zero in on a threat, he’s found himself endlessly searching holonet scholars for something to justify his deviation from the objective truth.

There has to be a reason, Tech is sure of it. Why else would he look at you, someone as grounded as any other being, and feel something so divine? Something that feels almost destined?

He recalls certain stories of grand romance he’s read before. It’s like I knew you in a past life… Something drew me to you the moment we met… I looked and I just knew. It’s not an entirely inhuman idea, yet it’s so alien to Tech’s nature he can’t understand how anyone could experience that. 

Faith is not something instinctual for Tech. He’s never needed it like others have. His moral compass exists without the need of a rulebook, or a punishment if he strays away from what’s correct. 

Yet every time he sees you, his mind screams and grasps at the ideas like a lifeline. The only thing keeping him afloat when he’s in your presence.

Despite that, he does his best to keep these conflicting feelings at bay. You invite him for more games of Dejarik, though infrequent, and Tech eagerly anticipates them. Wrecker has taken a liking to watching the two of you play as well. When the two of you probe the answer as to why, Wrecker just shrugs and says “You two play well together.”

Tech would rather think of you as a scientific anomaly, he realizes; so he thinks of you as a magnet to his opposite, pulling him closer the moment your field meets his. The second you wave him over from your stall, he’s walking over with the smallest of content grins. He’s glued to your every minuscule movement, every twitch and glance. When you lean in, so does he. When you pull back, he follows the trail you leave.

Even through the discomfort, he allows himself to be pulled by your magnet.

Only because… Only because… 

“Tech?”

Hunter’s voice interrupts Tech’s mental meandering. Tech looks over at him, pushing the bridge of his goggles up.

“Yes, Hunter? Is there something you need me for?”

Hunter squints, looking past Tech. He turns to look at where Hunter has fixed his gaze, which is, inconveniently, you. Tech turns back, and Hunter grins.

“Nothing, but I did want to ask about your little staring problem,” he says. When Tech stills, Hunter just purses his lips. 

“Do you like her?” Tech huffs softly, unsure of how to answer. What a question that is.

“Of course,” he answers, still unsure of what's appropriate. “I have no reason to dislike her. She is a perfectly adequate person.” Before he can begin to overthink his choice of words, Hunter shakes his head and says,

“That’s not what I meant.”

Tech only has a slim idea of what he’s implying, and has no plan of assuming.

“I don’t understand.”

“Tech,” Hunter catches his gaze with a firm tone, and suddenly he can’t look away. “Do you have feelings for her?”

Again, what a question. Feelings are not Tech’s strong suit. He knows this. Hunter knows this. Being cornered with such a question isn’t going to receive the results Hunter wants.

“...What is the exact definition of feelings?” Tech rationalizes before trying to give a real answer. “Because I’m not sure my reflections regarding her match what you’re accusing me of.”

Hunter frowns. Tech half expects him to keep probing, but instead, he leaves it at that with a lazy shrug.

“Sure,” Hunter says, looking over at you again. “Are you going to speak to her, at least? Instead of watching from afar?”

Tech shakes his head adamantly. He isn’t exactly embarrassed to admit to his brother that he has no wish to initiate a conversation.

“Only if she approaches me first,” he says. “I don’t seem the need to otherwise.”

Hunter still has that same look on his face; puzzled with a hint of disappointment.

“If you say so. Just… Don’t limit yourself.”

Leave my comfort zone?

“I’m going to take Omega back to the ship for an early night,” he continues, patting Tech’s shoulder pad and passing by him. “Keep your comm on, just in case.”

Tech nods, but his gaze is far directed your way.

“Sounds good.”

For the most part, Tech finds himself sticking to that same mindset; he won’t approach you first. Unless there was a feeling festering in his chest, that same destined rush that he devoutly will deny, there’s no reason. 

The night grows darker, the parlor becomes more crowded with inebriated patrons having their hand at games of Dejarik. He sits on a barstool, waiting for you to leave your booth and challenge an oblivious customer, but that time never comes. Your silhouette looms in the corner, dancing in the dim light, pulling at something deep within him. Each time he tries to focus on something else, gaze away, his eyes keep finding their way back to where you sit alone, an empty glass in front of you, your fingers splayed on the table tracing invisible patterns; lost in thought.

Tech’s mind neurotically considers his options. Could he even approach you without feeling like he was giving into what he’s been rejecting so fixedly? What would he even say? How would you react? Surely, you’re observant enough to realize how he never chooses to come to you first.

The uncertainty gnaws at him, twisting his stomach, but the pull towards you is stronger. He favors you as a magnet once again and takes a deep breath to steel himself before pushing off his seat and walking toward you.

You don’t even seem to realize he’s walking toward you, eyes still glossed over with a look of apathy. Tech clears his throat awkwardly before speaking, his voice quiet, but still loud enough to grab your attention.

“Hello,” is his opener. 

Real smooth.

You blink in surprise, gazing up at him with the gentlest part of your lips. He gets the perfect view of your face, and that familiarity he once saw the first time he spoke to you return. Like an old friend, a smell that transports him to somewhere safe and warm. Somewhere he belongs and always will belong, since the beginning.

“Oh,” you speak, a soft breeze settling over his exposed skin when you talk to him. “Hi.” You gesture to the booth seat across from him, and Tech sits graciously, tipping his chin down courteously.

“How are you?” He then asks; it is the only thing he could decide upon that was the least risky.

Your expression tenses, eyebrows pushing together with a scrunch of your nose.

“I’m…” you begin, as though bargaining with yourself. “...I’m not doing great if I’m being honest. Thanks for asking.”

Tech takes a deep breath, chest heaving at your last sentence. Are you… Are you being sarcastic? Do you not appreciate his butting in? Should he–

“If you’d like me to leave, I can do so,” Tech thinks out loud, attempting to backtrack.

Your eyes widen and you reach over, preventing him from sitting up and leaving you.

“No, please, sit down with me.” Your expression is soft again, gentle with a lack of spirit that frankly makes Tech slightly uneasy. But he just nods and sits his bottom down again, clearing his throat awkwardly.

He lets the silence sit. It feels like the right thing to do. But then you start speaking again.

“Tech,” you say, blinking so rapidly he almost assumes you’re holding back tears, “you’re a scholar, right?”

Tech hums, considering your question. He’d almost forgotten what he’d first told you during your first-ever real conversation. 

“Perhaps one could call me that,” he says, “though I’ve never published any research or thesis of my own…” he watches your expression intently, and when your lips curl up, his chest seizes again. He backtracks again. “...Unless you’re teasing me.”

You shake your head rapidly.

“Oh, I’m not,” you say. “I’m sorry if it came out that way.”

Tech holds back a frown. He’s always found conversations to be a puzzle, always methodically putting it together like a typical person, but always missing the final piece to match everyone else. Something missing. Something extra. Something different. He’s never been good at this. Conversations with you are far from an exception.

He settles to clarify, “I didn’t interpret it as that,” with a softened expression. “Other’s might, perhaps. But not me.”

You nod, rerouting back to your initial question.

“So you’ve read and researched plenty of topics, right?”

Tech hums.

“I have.”

You breathe shallowly but still deep enough to push out your next words.

“Do you think you can help me with a question that’s been on my mind lately?”

Tech blinks. Now, that’s a heavy request. But he’s looking at a face borderline paradoxical, a loose bolt in the machine; what’s the point of rejecting such beauty?

“I can try.”

You smile softly, but the content doesn’t reach your eyes. Tech begins to truly wonder what’s been bothering you. With a much deeper breath, you lean your elbows on the table and begin.

“All my life, I’ve been doing what I need to do. To survive. To get by.”

Tech sits there, embarrassingly dumbfounded at what to say besides giving a sympathetic response. You hold in such a high regard– he doesn’t want to lose that.

“Many people do.”

You fool. 

But you don’t seem to notice. 

“Sure, but it’s mixed in with actual desires. Things they want to do,” you continue, rationalizing your next statement. “But with me… it feels like all I ever do is what I need to do to survive. I can’t even think of a time when I’ve done something I truly wanted.”

This time, Tech takes his time to consider your words.

“That’s… Not an uncommon experience.”

You tilt your head, considering his words for yourself.

“Really?”

“Sure,” he pushes up the bridge of his goggles before he keeps talking, recalling any relevant example he could use. If he’d like to leave this conversation in any way, it’s with you feeling comforted. “I know that my brothers and I have focused most of our lives on simple survival rather than a true passion. And sometimes, doing what you want can only come after working for a space to survive.”

You nod in understanding and what he hopes is agreement, taking a few moments yourself before replying.

“That’s not incorrect,” you say before turning it around, “but I think my problem is that I’ve worked so hard to survive that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to fulfill my wants. Not out of selfishness, but just out of… scarcity, perhaps? Of free time. Of liberty. Between finding places to stay, running the stall, making money in Dejarik, ensuring my protection–”

That’s what intrigues Tech. He doesn’t want to interrupt, but he’s doing it before he even realizes it. 

“Protection?”

You nod, rather than go silent like the last time he’d interrupted you so starkly to probe at your word choice. 

“From Cid. That’s how we know each other,” you explain. “When I first came to Ord Mantell, it was at a peak of crime and murder. Cid saw me playing Dejarik and making good credit, and we struck up a deal; she provided me protection using her connections through the city, and I gave her 25% of my earnings.”

Tech nods along, processing your words with an attending gaze. 

“That’s…” he begins, aimlessly, when in reality he should’ve been thinking more properly because then you’re interrupting him with a tinge of insecurity in your voice.

“Dumb?” you ask.

Tech shakes his head automatically.

“I don’t have the right to say that,” he says, and you exhale softly in relief. Though he isn’t sure why you’re concerned about what he might think. “…If anything, I see it as resourcefulness. As you said, you were just trying to survive.”

Then you’re grinning again, a wash of sweet calm on your face.

“I’m glad you think that.”

Then silence fills the room again. Tech seriously considers his next words. He could retract and simmer his words down, or he could take a risk. But it’s been established with you clearly; Tech won’t take many risks.

So he’s unsure what compels him.

“What’s something you’d like to do?” He asks. You perk up with a raised chin. Tech tenses. “Perhaps–perhaps we could try and complete it together, right now.”

Your eyebrows raise, and Tech can see your thinking, a slow smile beginning to spread across your face.

“If we’re talking right now…” You say coyly. “...I’d love to get out of this parlor.” A polite, yet genuine laugh erupts out of Tech, and you laugh along with him, body leaning down with the heaving of your shoulders when you giggle.

Tech regains his composure quickly, readjusting his goggles.

“Then let’s leave.”

You raise your eyebrows. Tech nods again.

“Where?” you ask. Then he purses his lips.

“I’m not sure.”

You sigh, but not in annoyance. Unexpectedly, you rise from your seat, gesturing for him to do so as well.

“C’mon,” you grin, “I know a place.”

With a leading stride, you tug on the fabric covering his wrist and swerve the two of you through the parlor. Tech half expects Cid to interrupt the two of you again, but he takes a moment to glance back and observe, relieved to see her nowhere in sight. For once, he actually can be alone with you, speak to you without such an overstimulating environment, and without the risk of being interrupted.

Once you exit the parlor, you let go of his fabric. Tech forlornly tucks it into a pocket and continues to follow you. Through backways of backways, up a winding staircase, through a hallway, then up another ladder leads him to your destination; atop a tall living complex overlooking the rest of the buildings down to the bustling life below. If Tech was a more spiritual man, he could swear he’d be able to reach up and hoist a star in the sky onto the next planet; they seemed to shine so close. He’s caught up in the view for a few moments before he remembers what he is here for; your company. But to his relief, you’re lost in the expanse as well.

“It’s quiet up here,” he comments, taking a step closer to you.

You nod, still not taking your gaze off the sky. Tech is pulled in again, unable to take his eyes off of you. 

“As far as I know, this place is more isolated,” you say. “As you saw from the climb up, it’s kind of hard to spot unless you live in the living complex.”

“I see.”

Tech’s immediate urge is to ask if you live in this living complex, but the worry that he’s overstepping overtakes him. He settles on a different question.

“Do you come here often?” He asks, glancing up at the sky, but after long he’s compelled to look back at you.

You shrug, lament, as though disappointed in yourself.

“Not as much as I wish,” you sigh. “Like I said, I rarely do what I want.”

Then, you’re walking towards the end of the building, taking a seat on the edge, legs dangling over. Tech watches you and then follows behind, taking a wary look over. You don’t seem concerned at all by the risk. So he sits beside you. He reasons with where he sits, worried about overstepping a boundary, but still sits close enough that if either of you were to scoot, your shoulders could graze. That feels reasonable to him.

“Have– have you always lived like this?” Tech stammers, folding his hands over his lap. 

“Lived like what?” You ask, seemingly confused by his question. He can feel your eyes on him, but he resists his want to look back; eye contact in a situation such as this might break him completely. 

“...Just to survive,” he clarifies for you. You mutter a soft ‘oh,’, looking away again, eyes glossy while you recall past events.

“...No. Not my whole life,” you say. He makes the mistake of looking up, because suddenly you’re looking back at him, lips parted in consideration. He thinks of the first time he properly spoke to you, the familiarity he found in your face; as though he’d seen it before in a past life, or perhaps this one; but the latter couldn’t be correct. Tech would have remembered a face such as yours if it’s struck him so now. 

You continue, unaffected by Tech’s neurotic mentation.

“Back in Nalvage, where I grew up, I did what I wanted. Survival wasn’t something I was thinking about.” You pause to take a deep breath, shoulders heaving. “I just… lived. With the pretense of survival already there for me.”

Tech thinks over your words, getting hooked onto one in particular.

“Nalvage.”

“Yeah,” you turn and tilt your head. “You know it?”

Tech holds back a snarky response. It’s you, after all.

“Of course,” he mutters, voice raising as he continues. “My first ever mission was on there. My brothers and I saved and escorted refugees out of a village the Separatists had been seizing.”

You nod, though it's more of a slight dip of your chin.

“Yeah.”

“That was almost four years ago,” he recalls. The clone wars had truly felt like an eternity, Tech realizes, despite in a vacuum, it only lasting a tenth of a tenth of a second. Living through it, fighting in it, growing up under the guise of war and bloodshed changes anyone.

He looks back again, and you seem to be lost in thought. Your eyes are downset, lip swiping over your lips. Then you gaze up again, eyebrows pushed together.

“Do you know how long I’ve lived on Ord Mantell, Tech?” You ask. Unsure of where you were heading in this conversation, take just shakes his head, awaiting you to fill the gaps.

“Three and a half years.”

Tech purses his lips, trying to connect the dots in his head. A flush of deeply rooted history between you two festers, but he pushes it down as he attempts to rationalize. Additionally, he’d rather you fill in the gaps for yourself than let him assume possibly incorrectly.

“Three and a half years,” he repeats to himself under his breath. You catch it and smile softly, breathlessly. “And you’re from Nalvage?”

You nod wordlessly, then provide him the clarity he’d been waiting for.

“The village you helped evacuate was mine, Tech.”

Tech’s never been good at conversations. When he can’t find a missing piece, little people make the effort to help him fill it in. He’s left just a tack behind the rest, inept and foolish for even trying when it comes to easy for others. But you take the time to fill it in for him. And as he looks at you, it’s like he’s been waiting for this along. Waiting for someone like you. Or… just you.

Now you’re looking at him with that same expression of familiarity. Perhaps it’s been there all along, and Tech was too lost in his monologue to realize. But it’s so prominent he begins to feel guilt pounding in his heart. You knew this whole time, yet didn’t share. He must’ve made you uncomfortable. He must’ve hurt your feelings when it seemed he didn’t recognize him. 

“I–you–I apologize–” He stammers through, fingers starting to tremble. He combats it by taking a cold grip on his jean-clad thighs.

“No, it’s okay,” you say. “I was younger then. I looked much more alive back then compared to now.” Your tone is joking, but the playfulness doesn’t reach your eyes. “And you were saving so many people. I’m not surprised you don’t remember me.”

“It’s not that,” Tech denies with a firm shake of his head. “I couldn’t recognize you until now, but… I thought I knew your face.”

You tilt your head, intrigued. He’s pulled into your magnetic field again, just another opposite for you to latch with.

“Is that right?” You ask.

Tech nods.

“The first time we ever spoke properly, at your stall I believe,” he adds a tone of slight recollection so he doesn’t appear as enraptured by your every move and interaction as he absolutely is. “You looked so familiar, yet… distant. I suppose I couldn’t put my finger on it. But now I know.”

“All those years ago,” you say. Tech nods, but he’s already deep in thought again, digging his mind for any memory he can scrounge up of you. Your complexion against the lush green of Nalvage, then later smoke. That same scrunch of your eyebrows, your eyes wide, intensely focused on the task at hand, your voice…

“We spoke back then,” he mutters. In the corner of his eye, you nod. 

“We did.”

“I asked you to take some children off my hands while I took down a group of clankers.”

“Single-handedly,” you add, and Tech just shrugs. You grin. “You had the same voice, same eyes, same goggles of yours. Just more… youthful,I guess.”

Tech agrees with a shy nod, still struggling to process that any of this is truly happening. “You certainly look much older now.”

You huff, only one side of your mouth tilting up.

“Well, that makes sense,” you remark blankly. Tech bites his lip, realizing the ill-intent you might’ve interpreted.

“Wait,” he begins, “I’m sorry if that–”

You shake your head before he can even finish. Then, you scoot closer. As Tech predicted, now your shoulders graze against each other.

“No, Tech. I wasn’t offended,” you say, your soft gaze set on him with an intent he can’t exactly pinpoint yet. “Don’t worry. If I was I’d tell you.”

Tech pauses, truly at a loss for a proper response.

“So you remember me?” He asks.

“Of course I do,” You say. Tech musters up enough courage in himself to look into your eyes, the first proper time this entire conversation. He wants to look away, out of fear of the sky falling on him if he stares for too long, but you’re tugging him closer again. “You and your brothers saved my life. You helped me get out. I mean… you’re probably the only reason I’m still alive.”

Tech slumps softened at your words. He’s keenly aware of the little, yet impactful effect he’s had on many people through the galaxy. Yet being told it directly… it’s a different feeling entirely.

Yet, he still feels foolish. Firstly, for being unable to make the connection between the two of you. Secondly, for succumbing to the paradox you wrap him in.

“I should’ve realized we were connected in that way,” he finally utters.

A soft noise comes from the back of your throat as you consider his words.

“Fate?” You ask, a teasing smile on your face. Something depravedly hoarse is choked out of his chest. Just how do you know what holds him up without truly understanding the turmoil it’s given him?

Tech just shakes his head.

“I don’t believe in fate.”

You shrug it off without a bother, and Tech’s chest constricts watching you do it so effortlessly.

“Coincidence, then.”

Tech shakes his head. 

“That’s not quite it,” he mumbles to himself, but it’s still loud enough that you pick up on it. Tech still has that nasty habit of going off on tangents no one cares to hear, and it rears it’s head again as he begins talking. “My entire philosophy is based on facts and logic, what can be proved. Fate can’t be proved.” However, you’re nodding along, seemingly unbothered that he’s gone off. “Coincidence is just a facet of existence. One could think it's two lives intertwined, but that implies fate already. Something higher above us, controlling everything. And there’s no way for me to feasibly prove it, so… how am I meant to justify such a phenomenon in my mind?”

“What phenomenon?” You ask.

Tech takes a deep breath, and sighs, swearing under his breath with a coarse voice. Is he really going to admit to something he can’t come to terms with in his own head? Come clean to his own vulnerability, his own contradiction, and hypocrisy to the prettiest person he’s seen in his whole life?

“Why I feel meeting you is fate, despite everything.”

It appears so. 

You look at him, as though you’re just as lost. Tech wishes you looked at him any other way, even if it meant you didn’t care. But the confusion doesn’t help his psyche. 

“I’m not sure,” you answer him truthfully. The weight of the unspoken words between the two of you hangs heavy. If Tech were a more spiritual man, he’d consider the palpable feeling of divine intervention that mingles in the atmosphere. Rather, he thinks it’s kinetic energy. Heavy gravity. Deep-rooted insecurity in the back of your minds. Nothing more.

Tech takes his time to search your face, eyes darting over your features as if trying to decipher a code written in the lines of your expression. His gaze lingers on your cheekbones, your jaw, the wrinkles your smile leaves, and your soft lips before they flicker back to meet your eyes – a silent plea for understanding passing between you.

As the seconds tick by, the world alongside him holds its breath, caught in the suspended moment between what is and what could be. If only Tech was different, someone else, perhaps, and he could remedy everything holding him back.

Finally, you break the silence.

“I’d be willing to find out with you,” you say, voice barely over a whisper, “What all of it means.”

Tech raises his eyebrow. Now that… isn’t an outcome he could’ve ever feasibly predicted. Though, he hadn’t been considering any proper options when the silence settled. For once, he isn’t overthinking, re-thinking, analyzing and predicting.

Tech is still in slight disbelief looking at you, so repeats your words.

“You’d like to figure out… together?” 

You nod.

“I’d like that a lot,” you explain, hands folding over your lap. They’d been fidgeting absentmindedly at your sides before, not too dissimilar from how he does. “If you’d like that, as well.”

Tech blinks, still stunned. Finally, is he able to acknowledge it in his mind; your eyes are beautiful, and so is your face. Everything about you is divine. And it’ll forever be true, whether or not it aligns with all he’s known previously.

“Then we shall.”

Both can exist.

You smile warmly, cheeks lifting in a gentle caress of joy. 

“I like the way you think, Tech,” you say.

Tech hums with a purse of his lips. 

“Most people don’t understand the way I think,” he says, and it’s true. Not many make the effort to understand him, let alone try to meet in the middle. “Or care to be patient when it takes me some time to understand others.”

You shrug, far too modest to regard yourself as such a person.

“I can’t speak for you, or how you feel,” you say, looking down to the fall below you. Your words are quiet, yet only hushed to the point that if anyone were around you, only Tech could hear. “But I hope I do understand you. And that I’m patient enough.”

You’re plenty patient, he wants to say, but his voice lodges in his throat. Instead, he gazes down like you do, taking a good look over the edge of the building. There’s less of a view for him down there, and certainly more of a view if he looked up at the sky, but truly, he’d rather admire the one right beside him.

”Tech?” You then say. Tech looks up at you to find you already looking at him. 

“Yes?”

You take a deep breath, hand reaching up to scratch the back of your head with a nervous tremble in your voice.

“There’s one more thing I can think of right now that I want, that I think you can help with.”

Tech tilts his head.

“What is it?”

With a final gulp, the words are spilling out of you in a sweet increment that disguises the weight of your request.

“Would you kiss me?”

Tech blinks before he freezes completely. He repeats your words in his head, once, twice, and a third time for extra measure. You just asked him to kiss you. Press your lips to him. Nothing more and nothing less. And all he can do is just… stand there. Dumbly. Idiotically.

Despite that, he’s able to move ever so slightly, pulled closer to you by that same feeling of a field of magnetic energy around him.

Tech's heart thunders in his chest, echoing the chaos that reigns in his mind. The request hangs between you two like a delicate thread, shimmering with unspoken longing and anticipation. He searches your eyes for any sign of doubt or hesitation but finds only unwavering trust and a glimmer of hope. Without a word, Tech closes the distance between you, one hand on your knee and the other placed over one of yours as he leans in to press his lips against yours, almost featherlight at the first caress. He’s never been one for romantic lyricism, but truly, time does seem to stand still as it witnesses the sight in front of it. 

You kiss back, reverent yet not greedy, and Tech hums into your mouth with relief that he’s not doing a bad job. You’re fidgeting slightly under his touch, one of your hands reaching to hold onto something and landing on his clad thigh. You don’t squeeze, nor grip, just let it rest there, letting it act like an anchor while you’re guided through the kiss.

His heart pounds in his chest, yet he isn’t compelled to abort the new situation. Rather, he’d want to lunge in headfirst. You hum into his mouth just as insistently, lips soft and touch tender, and Tech wonders if there’s anything else

But then he’s pulling away, licking his lip with a nervous gaze.

“Was that adequate?” He asks, bottom lip trembling in worry.

But then you flash that heavenly smile, and his body sedates under your warm gaze.

“It was exceptional.”

There it is. That sensation of divine fate. And then the feeling that rushes right after. It isn’t fear, no– rather wandering curiosity. Here you sit, lips mere centimeters away from his, a paradox to everything he’s ever believed, yet he has no wish to push you away in favor of the facts and logic he’s relied on to keep him company. He’d rather pull you in closer, tighter, and make you the exception– not even an exception, but a new addition to his philosophy.

No, Tech doesn’t believe in fate. But you’re his contrary.

[stellarbit]

Confess

3k words NSFW Echoxreader

Someone requested some Echo smut and so I gave it a shot.

You catch Echo off guard and he has to deal with his feelings for you.

Laid up in the dimly lit corner of Cid's parlor, Echo grumbled under his breath as AZI-3 performed a body scan. Flanking him were you and his brothers, forming a protective semicircle. Omega, always eager to be involved, stood near Echo’s head, her eyes darting between you and the rest of the Batch as you all did a bit of bickering.

Chuckling, you lowered yourself into a bedside chair, “Wrecker, when are you going to learn to keep your eyes up.”

The burly clone rolled his eyes and head in the same exasperated expression. “I do keep ‘em up!”

“Considering you nearly made all of us fall, I’d say you didn’t this time.” Tech drolled.

At the mention of the fall, Echo gingerly touched the swelling bump on his head, a reminder of the chaos when Wrecker lost his grip climbing a cable to the Marauder, resulting in both of them plummeting twenty feet to the ground. Your voices were gradually sharpening the dull ache in his head.

A streak of red on Echo’s hand caught your eye. A tear in his glove exposed a cut you hadn’t noticed at first glance. As Tech and Wrecker continued their argument, oblivious to the new development, you reached out and gently grasped Echo's wrist. 

“Echo.” You said warily, as you pulled his injured hand closer for a better look. He kept his eyes shut, already knowing what you were about to say.

"Just a scratch, nothing to worry about," he murmured dismissively, trying to withdraw his hand, preferring to ignore the injury than address it in front of everyone.

You kept a firm grip on his hand, the pressure pushing a fresh drop of blood to the surface. Before he pulled away again, you took his bleeding finger into your mouth. The feel of your mouth around his gloved finger sent Echo lurching to attention. He was so caught off guard that he smashed his head straight into AZI.

At the same time Echo shoved away AZI and snatched his hand back. His sudden outburst had you reaching for him again, at least to stabilize him, but he had already scrambled up from his prone position, his eyes wide with shock. "What are you doing?" he blurted out, still wincing from the collision.

You opened your mouth to explain, but Echo cut you off, raising his hand to halt your words. He glanced down at his hand, then back at you, his cheeks coloring slightly.

Echo noticed the questioning look on your face and quickly averted his eyes. His voice carried a biting edge as he stammered, "I-It’s not clean."

Like every clone you’d ever met, Echo was a terrible liar.

You were about to respond when Hunter intervened, patting Echo on the shoulder with a light-hearted remark. "Glad to see you're okay." This gave Echo the perfect opportunity to divert attention from the awkward moment.

As AZI began to relay the results of his scan, your gaze lingered on Echo. You leaned back, puzzled by his intense reaction. During your time together, Echo had never before recoiled from such a simple touch. Well except once.

Echo soon walked off with his brothers, his attention drifting as he replayed the moment you had taken his gloved finger into your mouth.  The warmth that spread through him was something he thought the Techno Union's modifications had stolen for good. For the most part, his duties as a soldier kept him from thinking about it.

When the Batch reunited with you after Order 66, Echo knew he was feeling what you had when he was lost at the Citadel. His feelings only became more reoccurring.

 He would be lying if he said he’d never thought back to the singular night the two of you used each other as a distraction. For Echo, it wasn’t just a distraction, you were so much more to him. You saw him as more than a number and he saw you for the soul you were beyond a Jedi. Fearless, proud, and beautiful. But he also saw you for what you were, a Jedi bound by selflessness. 

Before Skako Minor, during a night spent in a medbay. Echo had been severely injured and, late that night you snuck in to see him. The weight of almost losing him overwhelmed you, and comfort turned into an embrace that quickly heated into staying the night wrapped around each other.

In the gray light of dawn, and under the threat of being discovered, you had mutually decided to confine that intimacy to just one night. However, Echo found himself frequently revisiting that decision. The memory of how you looked beneath him, the feel of your body pressed against his—these thoughts had been his companions through many lonely nights on the battlefield.

The warmth your mouth stoked in him spread, reminiscent of the heat from a kiss—his mouth on yours and then not just his fingers.

To be exact, the warmth of your mouth felt like it was around his cock. Even though your lips had touched him only briefly, his world narrowed to nothing but the memory of you.

A part of him felt undeserving and ashamed. You loyally spent years beside him, followed him to join the Bad Batch, and saw him as your most trusted friend. He wondered what you’d think if you knew what had transpired in him.

As the evening faded and days passed, you watched Echo, noting the careful neutrality he maintained in his interactions. He brushed off the incident as if it were nothing, but you weren’t fooled. You remembered too well the last time he had reacted like this.

After the night you spent exploring each other, the next time you whispered close to him, he had jumped as if blasted in the ass. He'd stammered some feeble excuse before quickly excusing himself. This time, though, you were determined not to let history repeat itself without a proper resolution.

This time you weren’t letting him off so easily. The war was over. You were no Jedi and he was not bound by his role of a soldier.

You were kind enough to wait until you got him alone to push him. A few days after the incident, you finally noticed Echo heading towards the Marauder by himself. You made no attempts at hiding your presence, in fact you sing-songed his name on sight. When the only response was a soft chuckle and an “Over here,” you continued towards Echo. 

He sat at the navigational screens, only turning slightly as you neared him. You smiled and leaned down, positioning yourself to look over his left shoulder for a shared view of the screens. The unexpected rush of emotions—loud heartbeats and butterflies—surprised you.

    Before second thoughts could hold you back, you reached out and gently touched his shoulder, your hand trailing down his arm until it rested over his. "Echo," you whispered softly.

    At your touch, his back straightened. You angled your face close to his, maintaining the contact. You kept your hand over his until he finally turned to look at you, his expression a mixture of caution and curiosity. His head still faced forward as you delicately laced your fingers through his.

   He reared his head and looked at you full on, his pale hazel eyes wide. Maintaining eye contact you picked up his hand in yours and pulled his glove off with your other. A light pink mark running up his forefinger was all that was left of his gash.

  You turned his hand over, inspecting the healing mark, then looked back to him. Echo swallowed and you couldn’t help doing the same. 

"I’m glad to see it’s healing," you commented softly, your thumb tracing the faint line. "Looks clean, too."

"What are you doing?" Echo's voice was tense, a sharp contrast to his usual composure.

At the same time, you asked, "What happened when I touched your hand the other day?"

Echo’s grip on your hand tightened, pulling you a fraction closer, almost as if he was challenging you. "You didn’t just touch me," he said, a hint of accusation in his tone.

You blinked at him, not suppressing your there it is smile. “What did I do then, Echo?”

His usual straightforwardness faltered, making this avoidance all the more telling. He sighed and his grip loosened slightly. "Please, just let it go," he pleaded, trying to pull away.

But you were quick to act, gliding your tongue along the length of his finger, a bold move that turned his hand rigid in yours. You ended with a soft kiss pressed to his lips, cherishing the contact and the rush of emotions it brought.

It took a bit of courage for you to meet his eyes again, lips still on his finger.

His eyes were shut, lips pressed tight, and heat scorched his cheeks. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was suffering. The thought made you panic.

Feeling suddenly foolish, crouched before him with just the simple kiss of his hand, you realized the irony of the situation. You had been far more intimate before, yet now, in this small gesture, you felt incredibly vulnerable. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you kissed his skin again, softly whispering an apology.

“It made me think of you,” Echo's voice broke through the silence, a choked and hurried confession as his eyes fluttered open to briefly plead with the unknown before settling intensely on you. “When you licked my cut,” he continued with a heavy sigh, surrendering to the moment, “it made me think of our night in the medbay.”

That night had only been spoken of maybe twice over the years. During the war, you both had buried any thoughts of what could have been without the conflict. Because, without the war, you wouldn’t have Echo. But that hadn’t stopped you from recalling the things he whispered to you, or from clinging to the memory of how he felt during lonely nights.

Gently, you rolled his hand over to press his palm against your cheek, turning to kiss his touch tenderly. “Is that a bad thing?”

Echo leaned closer, his prosthetic arm pressing lightly against your shoulder, grounding the moment with its weight. “Of course not,” he replied sternly, his voice softening. “It’s just—”

“Because I like the idea of you remembering,” you interjected before he could voice his doubts.

His hesitation wavered as he searched your face, looking for something that might tell him this was real—that it was okay to feel this way. Finally, a gentle smile broke through his stoic facade, and he whispered back, "So do I."

Smiling into his skin you stuck your tongue out and licked him again. “And this?” You said between kisses. 

His eyes fluttered at the sensation. “It doesn’t feel like that’s my finger.”

The sight of him, relaxing back and a smile on him made you pounce. You took two of his fingers into your mouth this time and he took a sharp breath as he watched his fingers disappear past your lips. Echo felt you hum and a shudder ran through him. 

Echo withdrew his hand, leaned forward, and scooped you up by your arms. He effortlessly lifted you, pressing you against the control panel of the Marauder. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he leaned in, his face hovering inches from yours, his gaze dropping to your lips 

Overcome by the moment, you instinctively pulled your legs over his hips, drawing him closer. His hand moved quickly, silencing the beeping controls and sealing the hatch with a soft click, ensuring privacy.

"Careful," you whispered, your voice a playful taunt, even though you were completely alone. "Your training is showing, trooper."

Echo's response was a low chuckle, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. "Say my name, please," he requested, his voice thick with emotion, turning the moment into a deeply personal plea rather than a mere flirtation.

You whined out a yes and said, “Echo.” Before pressing your lips to his. You felt him groan softly, his tension melting away as he leaned into the kiss with ease. His tongue sought yours without hesitation, initiating a deep, earnest exploration rather than a wild rush. Each moment was about savoring the taste and feel of one another, deepening the connection that had been simmering between you for so long.

Echo eventually pulled back slightly, his nose brushing against yours in a tender gesture. "I think I've known since the moment we met," he confessed softly, his breath mingling with yours.

Your one hand slid up to his face, gently kissing, “And what is ‘this’ exactly?”

Echo responded by capturing your bottom lip gently with his before he released it to murmur, "That I’d fall in love with you."

The words resonated deeply, sending a shockwave through your entire being. Every cell seemed to freeze, the significance of his admission striking a profound chord within you. On a reflex, you pulled back, creating a small space between you as you placed your hands on his shoulders to gently push him away.

Echo’s expression quickly changed to alarmed as he blinked at you, eyebrows raised. When he started asking what was wrong, your hands fell to your pelvis with fingers quickly working at your pants.

His breath hitched as he realized what was going on and made enough space for you to pull your legs back and wiggle out of your pants. Your pants hadn’t hit the ground and he’d already pulled at his own clothes enough to expose himself fully to you.

Neither of you broke eye contact as you nestled back together. A smile and hum bubbled from you when you felt him glide over you. 

Echo, leaning on his hand for support, choked out a curse when he felt you drip over him. Using your legs as leverage around him, you slid against him before positioning yourself at the head of his cock.

With your hands cradling the sides of his face, your thumbs gently stroking his cheeks, you looked as if you may plead for your life. In a way you were.

“Say it again,” you whispered, your voice a blend of demand and desperation.

Echo responded to the urgency in your voice, his actions mirroring the intensity of his emotions. As he closed the distance between you, joining your bodies slowly and thoroughly, the air seemed to thicken with anticipation. Though it felt like both of you could barely breathe, Echo's voice emerged clear and warm, filled with unwavering conviction.

"The moment I laid eyes on you, I fell in love with you," he confessed again, each word deliberate and heartfelt, 

The words themself sent a thrill through you, they hit you so hard you swore you could’ve came. You bit back a moan and he responded by pulling out a few inches and steadily pushing into you. He picked up a rhythm and his metallic arm steadied you against him.

Your hands held onto his shoulders for support as you pulled him into a kiss. Your body felt like it was thrumming, every move he made pulled a noise from you in some way as you came undone for him.

“Echo.” His name was a panicked plea.

"Yes?" He replied, his forehead resting against yours, both of you sharing quick, shallow breaths in the intimate space.

Your eyebrows drew together, your fingers tightening on his shoulders as the words spilled from you, heavy and raw. "I’m so in love with you."

 It was Echo this time that stilled, his sudden stop left him throbbing inside you.“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever met.” He said in awe of you. It felt like he released something deep inside him by allowing himself to say that. His eyes squeezed shut as another shudder ran through him. He let out a controlled breath. “I’m about to-”

It was you who now moved below him with quick, small thrusts, “If you love me, do it inside.” 

Echo dropped his hand to your hip and rammed himself fully inside you in one last thrust. The entire time he’d been inside you he had been stretching you, but him fully sheathed and pressing deep inside you was the point of no return. You writhed against him and contracted around him. 

“A-Are you?” Was all he could manage when he felt another sudden wave of pleasure.

 “Uh-huh,” was all you could utter through the thrill of your orgasm. Knowing you were cumming for him, on him, made Echo move against you again, throbbing and filling you again to the point his cum finally spilled out of you. 

Your foreheads touched, still caught in each other’s close orbit, and for a few moments ou simply breathed in unison, the storm of emotions settling into a calm. Echo looked into your eyes, his gaze steady and clear.

“That was a long time coming,” Echo said, his voice low and sincere. There was a hint of wonder, as if he was still processing the reality of the moment. The quiet between you was comfortable as you started pulling yourselves together.

As Echo buckled his gear back up he said in a teasing tone, “So, should we schedule our next confession for a few years from now or just surprise each other like today?”

Your laughter rang out. “Maybe without so many life-or-death settings.”

Echo’s eyes met yours again, reflecting a shared happiness and a forward-looking optimism. It was clear that whatever the future held, you would face it together, with no hesitations and no barriers between you.