#tbb tech fanfiction

[lifblogs]

Do You Not Trust Me?

Day 4 of Neurodivergent Tech Week Prompt: "Do you not trust me?" "Absolutely not. Next question." @neurodivergent-tech-week

Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 1460 Summary: Crosshair decides to go with Clone Force 99 after the destruction of Kamino. Tech wants to scan for an inhibitor chip, just to be safe. READ ON AO3

Tech was adding just a few touches to his scanner, his body tense because of who sat across from him near the hyperdrive computer, hands bound.

Crosshair let out a huff, hanging his head.

“Do you not trust me?” he asked, knowing the nature of the scanner Tech was working on.

Tech’s solder sparked blue into the ship.

The others were busy, leaving Tech to his business with Crosshair. In truth, he was only doing it out of curiosity, though he was ordered to by Hunter, but given the situation…

“Absolutely not,” he stated quite easily. “Next question.”

“I see you still have your sass.” Crosshair’s voice lacked the usual hissing strength to it. He was clearly ashamed from asking them to help him off Kamino.

“As do you, I’m sure.” Tech lowered the scanner. “It’s not just about trust,” Tech said. “You know I have to verify this.”

Crosshair let out another huff, leaning back in his seat, and stretching out his long legs.

Tech pulled his legs in.

“Hunter wants you to verify it, to see if I’m lying.”

Ugh. “Crosshair, what reason have you given us to trust you? You lured us to Kamino at the Empire’s orders, you shot your own squad”— Crosshair turned away; perhaps at the fact that the Bad Batch was no longer his squad?—”you told us you believe in the Empire, and are loyal to them, and then you ask us to get you off Kamino despite your own pride, but since then you have not made your allegiance clear.”

Tech finished with the scanner, and set his tools aside.

“There, all done.”

“Tech, I know you. I know you like to look at every side, like to understand as much as you can about—about everything, really. Now look at the other evidence.”

“Why? Will you be staying with us, or is your loyalty to those who destroyed our home more important to you?”

Tech stood, and tried scanning Crosshair, but he stood too, shoving him. Tech shoved back.. Perhaps their altercation was too loud because Hunter noticed, exiting the cockpit in a rush, and getting in between them. Crosshair snarled when he pulled them apart.

“Stop it. Both of you. Crosshair, sit down.”

“Make me.”

“How old are you?” Hunter asked.

“Fine,” Crosshair growled, taking a seat. “But I’m only listening to you so I actually make it to my destination.”

“We’re not the ones who want you dead,” Hunter said. “Think about that.” He turned to Tech. “You’re all right here? You can handle him?”

Guilt struck Tech for a moment as his hand just brushed against one of his blasters holstered at his hips.

“Of course.”

“Good, now check if he still has his chip.”

“I don’t,” Crosshair swore.

“Then what’s the harm in the scan?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Crosshair told him.

Tech cleared his throat, going over in his head what he wanted to say. He should say it now. No, no… Now! Hmm, maybe it needed some tweaking.

Hunter, may I speak with you? I believe you are riling Crosshair up. I can handle him.

Yes, that was perfect.

By the time he had his script, Crosshair was in Hunter’s face.

Oh no, was he too late?

He still had to try.

Tech cleared his throat again, getting at least Hunter’s attention (Crosshair was still sneering at Hunter). “Hunter,” he started, worried his voice was coming out too loud (not like he could change that at the moment; there was just too much to think about), “may I speak with you?”

Hunter drew his attention from Crosshair, which seemed to take a mighty effort. Tech didn’t blame him.

“Fine, but I’m gonna keep an eye on him.”

“That is preferable,” Tech said, breaking his script, and finding the rest of the words falling away from him as the connection broke.

Scrag.

“So what is it?” Hunter asked.

How am I supposed to say it now?

Just try.

You have to try.

Tech tried to ignore the sudden anxiety in his gut at finding the right words, and said, “I believe you are riling Crosshair up. Clearly he is distressed by your presence.”

“And he isn’t by yours?”

“He is, but to a lesser extent. I believe this will go more smoothly if I handle it on my own.”

Hunter eyed Tech, and then Crosshair. He looked back at Tech, and Tech dodged his gaze, looking at his eyebrows instead, and the dark ink of his tattoo.

“Fine, but holler if you need help.”

Hunter went back to the cockpit, and the door opening earned Tech a glance at Omega peeking through, curious as always. Besides, she seemed willing to forget Crosshair’s transgressions.

AZI was in the cockpit as well, making it more crowded. He had volunteered to check if Crosshair still had his chip, but Tech wanted to see it for himself, with his own tool.

“Glad Hunter decided I don’t need another babysitter,” Crosshair hissed out as Tech came back over.

“Perhaps I was the one who didn’t want him around.”

“You? Aren’t you all one big, happy family?”

“No,” Tech stated. “I fear we are missing a piece.”

They went silent.

“Please, let me scan you.”

“Fine,” Crosshair relented. “As long as your stupid machine doesn’t touch my head.”

“It won’t.”

Still, Tech held in a wince as he scanned Crosshair, getting a closer look at his scar.

“Did that require skin grafts?” he asked.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business. You don’t trust me, remember? So I don’t trust you.”

“I miss the time when we could trust each other,” Tech admitted, voice perhaps more monotone than he had intended.

“Just finish your stupid scan.”

Tech did, and… no inhibitor chip. He felt a strange lightness in his chest that Crosshair had been telling the truth.

But then that meant he had been telling the truth about his loyalty to the Empire as well, which then felt like a stab in the gut.

“It appears you were not lying,” Tech managed to get out.

“As if I didn’t already know that.”

“You want to be left alone,” Tech stated, still knowing Crosshair despite him being an enemy now.

To his surprise, Crosshair paused.

Tech almost sat back down, even twisting his hips to do so.

“Yes.”

Crosshair was lying. Tech knew it like he knew how to fly the Marauder, knew it like he knew that a venomous twirfang didn’t actually need its venom to kill its prey, knew it like he knew the sound of a purrgil about to jump to hyperspace.

Tech left him to his lie, wondering if he would ever look back at his recording of that moment.

Despite how crowded it was in the cockpit, Tech felt devastatingly lonely. He wondered if Crosshair felt this way. But there was no way to fix it, not unless Crosshair took the first steps.

Tech sat in the pilot’s seat, silent, brain trying to script what he could say to Crosshair to fix this, but there was no script for this pain, no script for what Crosshair had done to them and had tried to do, no script for what they had done to Crosshair, no script for the sheer encompassing malice and enormity of the Empire.

Tech, unable to sit still with his frustrating helplessness, continued work on one of his many projects, telling the others about it till they were annoyed, and past that. Though, Wrecker smiled at him through it, and Echo did seem interested for quite some time. Same with Hunter and Omega. But he knew he was too much sometimes. They listened anyway. Annoyance didn’t change anything about love. Tech was glad that after twenty minutes they at least pretended to listen; perhaps they had been doing it all along, not understanding what he was working on. He valued the questions Omega asked, and valued that they let him speak as long as he wished.

Yet Crosshair sat just outside the door, alone.

Would he have listened to Tech for some time as well? Had he tried to listen in?

Tech resisted the urge to check on him. Echo was handling that—Echo, who understood being used by an enemy to hurt his own brothers. Perhaps something would come of this.

His mind played over and over again, Do you not trust me?

Crosshair hadn’t tried to take their weapons, hadn’t hurt any of them once Kamino had been fired upon, and he had saved Omega. The evidence before Tech painted a confusing picture, one he would want to puzzle out, teasing out the knotted strands until everything was right again.

Do you not trust me?

Yes, yes, I do trust you.

[moonstrider9904]

Flyin' Ace

Chapter 4 of Moonwalker: The Flame

{series masterlist} {next chapter} {previous chapter}

{crossposted to Wattpad} {crossposted to AO3}

Summary: The crew are led to Safa Toma, where a deal struck with the gangster Millegi results in a stunt to protect Sarah's honor.

Tags/Warnings: Mature. Allusions to gangs, some foul language, smoking, alcohol.

Word count: 7.2k

Songs:dirtmouth

If Sarah had known what they were getting themselves into, she at least would have insisted on leaving Omega on Ord Mantell. Letting her be by herself for a while, even if it was enclosed in the Y-Wing with Rigel on standby, would have struck her as safer. Echo and Hunter were bound to return soon, anyway.

Instead, there they were, the entire rest of the squad walking the even seedier streets around the Safa Toma race dome. Sarah thought back to her days as a pirate chilling in Hondo’s lair, and that seemed like a high-end dive bar compared to where they were now. Cid led the way at the front and center, with Sarah at her right side. Sarah kept Omega to her left, behind Cid, figuring that would at least be where the smallest of the group would be most protected. And, bringing up the rear, Tech and Wrecker towered over the three ladies like two bodyguards, fully armored and unafraid of whoever may have so much as hinted at a dirty look their way.

Cid looked over her right shoulder at Sarah and made a brief gesture at her. Sarah picked up her pace and, mindful of still being Omega’s cover in some way, she evened her position with the Trandoshan and leaned in, prompting hushed voices. No one else needed to be listening in.

“Glad ya came,” Cid said. “This pit of filth and scum should be a piece of cake for a former pirate like you.”

Sarah took it as a compliment. “I did see some things over at Hondo’s. Never a riot racing dome.”

“Ya ain’t here for the racing,” Cid pulled to a stop. “I am.”

The multiple speeders tailgating after the other down at the track raced by their area, the revving of their engines rising and then falling. When they were out of sight, Cid faced the crew behind her. “My new racer’s gonna make us enough for two months, at least!”

“Aw, look at you being generous,” Sarah walked up next to Cid, overlooking the racing track with a confident, arrogant little smile. “We’re getting a two month vacation with this pay? I kinda like that.”

Cid chuckled. “Ya know what I mean, Strider, don’t push it.”

As Sarah enjoyed the view and the memories of her scrappy past, Cid looked around the crowd, wary, though it didn’t seem there was anyone targeting her or her companions. There may have just been one face among the crowd with particularly unfriendly eyes looking her way… or perhaps not?

At the possibility, Cid scrambled past the clones and led the way again. “We should head down to meet Tay-0. We’re not ‘ere to spectate.”

Sarah picked up on the sudden change of pace as well as the way Cid suddenly became more tense, and she walked up to Wrecker first, grasping his forearm lightly.

“Whatever happens, prioritize Omega, will you?” Sarah whispered.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Wrecker nodded.

Sarah smiled softly, appreciative of Wrecker’s reassurance—he was a pillar of strength, and not just physically. She then hurried to the front next to Cid, and she leaned in again, more secretive than before.

“If we’re to keep hell from breaking loose, you need to tell us who to look out for,” Sarah told Cid.

“You got good instinct,” Cid muttered. “You call the shots.”

Sarah couldn’t help but pull back at Cid’s words, her eyebrows raised and eyes widened.

“What?” Cid questioned.

Sarah chuckled. “Nothing. Just that… well, you’ve got a damn good right hand in me.”

Cid’s shoulders relaxed, and her lizard-like features seemed to adopt a hint of a smile. “Yeah, I don’t doubt that.”

Sarah smiled softly, oddly proud to be the one Cid recognized as in charge on the mission. But Sarah took such a responsibility seriously, and for the rest of the way, her gaze was ever-vigilant and aware of any pair of eyes that fell on them.

The squad made it down to the sidelines of the racing tracks without difficulty. The speeder that belonged to Cid’s infamous racer seemed prominent while it was parked on the sidelines, and Omega instantly ran towards it, eyes big with curiosity. Tech followed closely behind, already pulling out his datapad, no doubt wanting to check his own records to get a better grasp of what the vehicle was and, of course, how to improve it.

As Sarah watched Tech go about his business, she smiled softly at the sight of him so expertly making his way around the speeder.

“Many modifications have been made, that is for sure,” Tech was explaining. “A speeder of this caliber was not built for racing conditions, neither speed or weapon-wise.”

“Um, ahem!”

Every pair of eyes that had gathered around the speeder turned in the same direction when a male and slightly mechanized voice filled their ears. A tall, thin-looking droid was approaching them, its strut almost as confident as if it were human. When it was just in front of the crew, its hands flew to its metal hips and it leaned forward slightly, indignant.

“Who so disrespectfully criticizes my vehicle?” The droid bellowed.

“It is not criticism, it is an evaluation,” Tech said as he raised the visor of his helmet and looked at the droid, his expression clearly visible through his goggles. “Do you manage this vehicle for the racer?”

“I am the racer,” the droid said.

Everyone then looked at Cid, who walked up to the droid and slapped its back.

“This is Tay-0, my own little money-maker,” she introduced.

“At your service,” Tay-0 took a light bow.

Meanwhile, Tech looked over at Cid, skeptical. “Your runner is a droid?”

“Hey, human!” Tay-0 walked up to Tech and challenged him. “Do you think you have the mental capacity to make a split-second calculation required in the heat of a race?”

“He does, actually,” Sarah chimed in, smirking over at Tech.

Though his helmet covered most of his face, the way Tech’s eyes glistened as they hovered over to Sarah and lingered only for a second didn’t escape her. Regardless, his gaze was back on Tay-0, firm, yet sincere.

“I do not have the background or knowledge of the sport to provide an answer,” Tech said. “However, I have made split-second calculations in battle amidst blaster fire, which is not the same as racing, but similar in that there is an imminent threat that must be addressed swiftly to ensure victory. Perhaps my experience will enrich yours, and yours may enrich mine.”

“All I want to hear is praise, human boy,” Tay-0 dismissed. “So if it ain’t that, I don’t want to hear it.”

The droid waltzed off and retired into the garage, moving the speeder in towards it. Meanwhile, Sarah approached Tech from behind, her hand landing over his shoulder.

“Well, he seems delightful,” she scoffed.

“I am curious,” Tech said. “If machinery eliminates human error, does that mean the ideal racer is a droid? What is Tay-0’s margin of error, and how does it compare to that of the organic racers? If his win-rate is not 100%, does his droid nature influence who he loses to? In other words, does he only lose to droids who can perform similarly quick calculations? And this raises a different question—we are now adding a different factor to success in a race: the vehicle, the ability of the racer, their organic nature or lack thereof, and in the latter case, who has the better programming. This has potential to be truly fascinating to analyze.”

“Well, I don’t really like this place,” Sarah briefly squeezed the plastoid on Tech’s shoulder—she particularly enjoyed the sound of Tech’s voice modulated by his helmet and was grateful he’d given her such a speech in it, “but now I’m hoping we stick around long enough for you to answer all those questions.”

Tech faced her, his eyes softening over his goggles. “That was quite a compliment you gave me a moment ago.”

Sarah smiled at him. “And there’s plenty more where that came from.”

“Look alive,” Wrecker called from behind, instantly drawing Tech and Sarah’s attention to the group of people who were approaching them.

The group was led by a large Dowutin male and followed by three other figures, of whom one was a Gamorrean guard, and the other one had a recognizable face since it was plastered on multiple posters around the racing dome—it was Jet Venim, another one of the racers.

“Cid,” the Dowutin called out. “You didn’t tell me you were back around. I resent you for not telling me.”

“Millegi,” Cid acknowledged. “That’s ‘cuz I wasn’t really plannin’ on seein’ ya.”

“Well, that’s on you, since you know this is my turf,” Millegi said as he got a quick glance at Sarah and the others. “Got a new crew there. Aren’t you gonna introduce us?”

“Their names are non’ya business,” Cid crossed her arms.

Towering over everyone else, Millegi scanned the crew standing guard behind Cid, and his gaze landed on Sarah, who stared back at him, unwavering.

“Nice tattoos,” he said to her.

Sarah tilted her head slightly and opted to use her charisma rather than anger a prominent gambling figure of Safa Toma.

“Thanks,” she smirked. “Made ‘em myself.”

“I once heard an old friend talk about someone who looked like you,” Millegi paced closer towards her—it didn’t escape him the way the two clones tensed as he did. “A pirate who graced her gang with her presence, but then left too soon, and all to be a heroic soldier, only to never be heard of again. You’re her, aren’t you?”

Sarah scoffed ever so softly.

“Hondo’s Sarah Adhara,” Millegi concluded and brought the large cigar up to his mouth, taking in a large inhale before lowering it once more, exhaling. “You’re a legend. What will the Ohnaka gang think when they hear their prized jewel played a part in losing a bet against Millegi?”

Sarah knew a signal of deference was in order, one that was just daring enough to also establish a certain territory, a relationship of mutual respect rather than to let Millegi know he stood before a doormat. Sarah paced forward slowly with a subtle sway of her hips, her back straight and features calm as she reached her hand out and took the cigar from Millegi. Without breaking eye contact even to blink, Sarah took a long inhale from the cigar and removed it from her lips, blowing the smoke out through her nose and letting it flow up in front of her face, and at last, her lips curved slightly when faint expressions of satisfactions were heard coming from Millegi’s crew. Towering over her, Millegi smirked at Sarah’s gesture.

“If my reputation precedes me, then you know I don’t want trouble,” Sarah said, handing him the cigar back. “Surely, you have bigger fish to fry than a mercenary and her new crew. We don’t deserve such attention.”

“I beg to differ,” Millegi spoke. “Your racer’s going up against mine, and Cid and I have some unfinished business. That’s enough of a premise to strike a deal.”

Millegi then looked over Sarah’s shoulder at Cid with an aura of confidence. “I was thinking of giving you more of a run for your money, but I won’t ignore such a warm introduction,” he glanced at Sarah briefly, then back at Cid. “Let’s leave it at our usual wager, how’s that? For old times’ sake?”

Though she tried, Cid couldn’t mirror Millegi’s confidence, and her chest shrank as she crossed her arms.

“Alright, deal,” Cid spoke.

Sarah briefly glanced at Cid, painfully aware that the stakes had just been raised.

“Well, this will be fun,” Millegi said as he began to turn around, his gaze lingering on Sarah for a moment before he left.

Sarah followed him with her eyes as he and his crew left, and when they were out of sight, Sarah rushed over to her own team.

“Knew you’d be great here,” Cid placed her hands on her hips, smirking at Sarah. “You actually got Millegi to soften up.”

“The point was to be off the hook,” Sarah said. “But you still accepted the bet.”

“You know as well as I do you don’t just say no to a bet with someone like Millegi,” Cid countered.

“In case you haven’t noticed, you have muscle too,” Sarah gestured at Tech and Wrecker.

“Will ya ease up?” Cid grinned. “I know what I’m doin’. Tay-0’s gonna win, and Millegi’ll respect the wage. Win-win.”

“This droid better be the best damn racer in the galaxy for what I just did,” Sarah crooned.

“Which you pulled off great, kid,” Cid congratulated. “Now come on, when have you not been able to trust me? I always come through for ya.”

Sarah found it in herself to chuckle. Cid did have a point, and there had been multiple times where she’d indeed come through for them, for her, from the Y-Wing and Rigel to those nights spent talking over a glass of aged Corellian whisky.

“For now, enjoy the race,” Cid said. “We got some money to win.”

Cid went over to the speeder with Wrecker and Omega following after her, and Omega stopped briefly in front of Sarah, looking up at her with stars in her eyes.

“You were so cool just now!” Omega beamed.

Sarah chuckled. “Yeah…” she kneeled down and crouched slightly to be just below Omega’s eye level. “Listen, as long as we’re in Safa Toma, do as I say, not as I do. Got it?”

“Yes, mom,” Omega winked, then followed after Wrecker.

Sarah felt a tingling in her marks. She’d never heard Omega call her that… but the words rang sweetly in her mind, and teasing as it was, she’d accept it.

As Sarah was standing up, Tech walked up behind her. He’d removed his helmet and was hugging it beside him, and when he made eye contact with Sarah, his eyes were slightly widened in pleasant surprise.

“That was… unexpected,” Tech said.

“Yeah,” Sarah’s voice was soft. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“Your cigar stunt,” Tech answered.

“Oh! Right, that…” She turned a right angle to face Tech, gazing up at his goggled eyes. “Well? What do you really think about that?”

Tech shrugged. “That was very…”

“Yes?” Sarah prompted, smirking at the plethora of ways in which Tech could possibly admit his feelings at that very moment.

“Unhealthy,” Tech spoke.

Sarah couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, fair. Yes, that’s why I don’t do it often. I picked up the habit for about a month while at Hondo’s, but that’s it.”

“Dangerous,” Tech added.

“I like to think of it as calculated,” Sarah challenged. “You have to take some sort of a risk to establish your presence in places like these, but it looks like it went well.”

Ignoring Sarah’s explanations, Tech finally looked her in the eyes, his lips parting just enough for his teeth to bare with silent hunger. “And… absolutely, exquisitely enticing.”

Sarah cooed with a little wiggle of her shoulders. “Well, well.”

“Yes, in fact,” Tech leaned in close and hushed his voice. “I’m beginning to think we should have brought your outfit��from the Old Ord Mantell ruins.”

Sarah gasped in a fake scandal. “Egads, Tech!”

“The brasier and skirt perfectly accentuate your best assets,” Tech justified his thesis.

“Come now,” Sarah teased. “We both know that’s just for you and me.”

Time wore on and the racers made their way to their speeders, even the arrogant droid Tay-0, and while he was off racing, Sarah and the others gathered around to watch, and not an ounce of suspense was spared.

Why the sport's name included the word "riot" became obvious the moment the speeders dashed past the starting line. The revving of the engines piled, one after the other, until the speeders disappeared past the first curves and tunnels of the course, leaving only the roaring cheering from the stands going wild and the announcer narrating the juiciest highlights from the track. Cid held a datapad that projected Tay-0's speeder, and as much as it surprised Sarah, he seemed to be a decent racer and a decent pilot, unwaveringly moving his own speeder to the lead and having all the others tailgating him in a matter of seconds.

Cid's excitement for the race was contagious. The prospect of winning and earning a few easy credits wasn't lost on anyone, but the overall rush of racing was what felt more attractive to Sarah, so much that a part of her was curious what it would be like to be down there racing, moving as fast as the wind, pulling stunts in front of a crowd and being the first one at the finish line. Of course, a speeder that wasn't designed for such speeds paled in comparison to a starship, and Sarah'd had her fair share of excitement inside her own Y-Wing.

But the excitement felt towards that race was short-lived, and the team's hopes came crashing down when Tay-0's speeder barely made it to the finish line, and not in first place. The speeder tumbled and crashed loudly into the side of the track, prompting everyone to instantly head down there running as varied cheers were heard from the crowd, from painfully taunting "Ooooh!" cries to cheers rampaging with excitement and satisfaction, for the moment Tay-0 became the loser, it was Millegi's racer who had been declared winner.

When Wrecker and Tech pulled Tay-0 out of the wreckage, it seemed for a moment that hope was lost. Tech took a closer look at the droid and locked gazes with Cid, then with Sarah.

"There is a remedy for this," Tech affirmed. "However, I cannot change the already disfavorable result of the race."

"Are you sure you can fix him?" Sarah questioned. "He... he literally lost his legs."

"The core circuitry seems to have overloaded due to the impact, but judging by his current state, Tay-0 is on standby," Tech said. "He is not yet a lost cause, however much I may dislike him."

"You and me both," Sarah muttered, crossing her arms. She suddenly felt a warning rising inside her, and her instincts jumped to alert as she felt multiple people approaching them. Surely enough, they were already being hoarded by Millegi and his racing crew, who only had one thing on their mind after the result of the previous race.

"You lose, you pay," Millegi opened. "How about that, Cid? You sure your star racer's gonna be okay?"

"We have the best mechanic in the galaxy," Cid was nearly successful in hiding all of her nervousness. "Now, about the payment..."

"You do have it, do you not?" Millegi chuckled. "I just wish you were as quick to pay as you are to claim a payment."

Tech and Wrecker inevitably exchanged looks, and the multiple meanings behind that paired with Millegi's remark, but Sarah chose to ignore it for the time being. She instead focused on Cid and her lack of money to pay, which wouldn't foretell a happy ending.

"And if there isn't any money, we're gonna have to keep you," Millegi finished.

"Wait, keep Cid?" Omega spoke up, her tiny, childlike figure scattering in front of Cid. "But you can't do that!"

Millegi chuckled, amused at the rare sight of a child in such a cruel environment. "It's time you learn, kid. A deal is a deal, and when someone can't pay up, the stakes are higher. Either that or you make sure you actually have enough money."

"But you can't take Cid away from us, she's our friend," Omega's worry was evident in her voice, and her big, bright brown eyes looked over at Sarah, then at her two brothers, begging them to do something.

"The thing is," Sarah chose to intervene, "we aren't really counting on splitting up. It's not something we do well."

Millegi seemed to ease up the moment Sarah spoke up, and just as tensions were rising amongst his crewmates at Cid and her crew's resistance, Millegi gave one swat of his hand to calm it all down. He then looked at Sarah again, his gaze gleaming with intrigue.

"Alright then," Millegi looked straight at Sarah. "I'm giving you the chance to make a counter offer."

But Sarah was out of ideas, and normally when that happened, Omega was quick to intervene with a bright idea of her own.

"Let us fix Tay-0 and run the next race," Omega said. "Tomorrow morning."

"That's not a counter offer," Millegi said. "You need to offer up something that'll make this second round more intriguing, kid."

"We'll pay you double if you win," Omega said, decisive.

Sarah couldn't help the way her gaze shot over at Omega, but the child had a confident look in her eyes. Sarah felt a grim sense of foreboding flooding her body, its eerie cold spreading slowly through her marks.As much as Sarah had learned to trust Omega and her instincts, she couldn't find it in herself to feel at ease with the stakes being raised that drastically.

"But if we win, we leave here with Cid," Omega finished.

Millegi raised a brow. "You don't want money?"

Omega lightly shook her head. "We want our friend, and our freedom."

Millegi paused to ponder for a moment, but eventually, he nodded. "You got yourselves a deal. But for the night, we're keeping Cid as collateral. You understand - we have to make sure we're not sweet talked just to be fooled afterwards."

"Standard procedure, I suppose?" Tech inquired.

"Sure," Millegi agreed, and he gestured towards Cid to have her follow him and his crew.

Before Cid left, she took one last look at Sarah. Sarah gave a nod, appearing as confident as she could, but at the moment, Sarah wasn't sure how much that was. She then watched as Cid walked away with all the others, and when they were out of sight, Omega walked up next to Sarah, slightly hunched over her shoulders.

"Are you mad at me?" Omega asked her.

Sarah instantly looked at Omega, her facial features softening as she knelt down to be at Omega's height. "Darling, no."

"I know we're risking a lot," Omega said. "But I didn't want to leave Cid."

"And no one's holding that against you," Sarah said. "Yes, the deal is a little more risky than I would have made it, but you bought us time, and you bought us hope." Sarah then looked over at Wrecker and Tech as they held Tay-0's chassis, nodding briefly at them.

"We'll make do with what we have," Sarah finished.

"Yeah, we always do," Wrecker reassured.

"I will get to work on Tay-0 immediately," Tech said. "Wrecker, if you could bring the speeder into the shop, you'd be helping volumes."

"On it."

Cid

The night life outside was at its peak. Sitting on the couch and overlooking the elongated glass window before her, Cid could see the entire lowly festival that bloomed in the streets of Safa Toma. Laughter and racket could be heard coming from outside as the sun went down, and though those clones had proven to be resourceful before even in the worst of times, Cid couldn't shake the feeling she'd been pushed into a corner. She didn't have the credits to pay Millegi double - Tiny was adorable, but sometimes her bright ideas proved costly - and at that point, even Cid herself couldn't keep up blind hope that the heap of metal she'd chosen as her runner would succeed. It was up to Goggles to fix the droid, which Cid didn't doubt he could finish.

Winning the race was the problem.

Maybe if she sweet-talked Millegi into giving her some time after the loss to go and get the credits, Cid could head over to Ord Mantell and get some out of the reserves she had for herself and for the Batch. But wherever extra time was involved, so was collateral, and Cid couldn't stay as that and go to Ord Mantell for the credits. She also wasn't gonna ask one of the boys to go and empty the cases for her. The only one who Cid might have felt confident enough to ask for such a thing to was Strider, but Cid knew she wasn't gonna like the idea either.

Only a part of Cid felt guilty screwing over the batch, but it was either that or having Millegi come after them mercilessly, and that was assuming he even let them get off the planet, or that they were somehow able to get off planet without him noticing, which would open a whole other lot of gruesome possibilities waiting for each of the mercenaries.

"You look troubled," Millegi interrupted Cid's train of thought as he poured a glass of bourbon. "Ease up. Drink. Your loss will come until tomorrow anyway. For now, enjoy."

"I'd rather not," Cid dismissed.

"This is the most tense I've seen you since the last time you didn't have enough money to pay me," Millegi teased after downing his drink. "Surely that's not the case now, is it? 'Cause if it is, how are you gonna get out of that one?"

"You're gettin' ideas all up in your head," Cid challenged. "I won't lose."

"You're smarter than that," Millegi poured himself another glass and went to sit on the couch next to Cid. "You've said yourself, a blind confidence makes a dead fool. You'd be stupid not to consider all possibilities."

The feeling of being cornered returned to Cid.

"Better think fast," Millegi took a sip out of his drink, his tone friendly, even if the words were menacing.

With crossed arms and her body turned away from Millegi, Cid looked over her shoulder at him. "Whattaya mean, think fast? I'll get ya the money if it comes down to it."

"You'd be ruined after the wager the runt of your crew made," Millegi chuckled. "Double payment in exchange for you. It's so noble it almost has you believing you wouldn't turn your backs on each one of them in a second."

"I might surprise you," Cid crooned.

"No," Millegi said. "On the contrary, you're gonna pull a dirty stunt on them, and it'll be exactly what anyone expects."

"I've changed, Millegi."

"So you won't listen to my counteroffer?" Millegi prompted. "It'll be much easier than getting me all that money."

Cid angled her figure towards Millegi, intrigued.

"Adhara," Millegi finally stated.

"Strider?" Cid frowned. "What about 'er?"

"If your racer loses, you hand her over," Millegi proposed.

Cid's features crinkled in a grimace, but she didn't turn away from Millegi, nor did she dismiss his offer. She kept silent, and her eyes idly found different corners of the room as she examined the recently-raised stakes.

"Not a single ingot would wind up in my pocket," Millegi continued. "If you lose, give me Adhara and you're off the hook."

"Why do you even want her?" Cid asked.

"Have you seen the skillset she carries?" Millegi chuckled. "That woman is the deadly combination of a sorceress and a soldier, with enough of a gut to make it in this world. Ohnaka was a fool for letting her go."

Cid considered her options. She could blow a stream of hot air with reasons why Strider would never go with him, tell him she'd throw him off the nearest ledge using nothing but her hand and all his henchmen would follow, threaten with those two clones never being willing to let her go without a fight, convince Millegi he didn't know what he was getting into.

But Cid still didn't have the money, and if agreeing to the new terms would mean ending the conversation as well as not worrying about credits in either outcome, it became the safest of all options. It was a no-brainer. And with that, Cid made eye contact with Millegi, and she nodded.

"Deal," Cid concluded.

With a dark laugh, Millegi handed the spare glass of bourbon to Cid and sealed the offer. Cid took a sip of the bourbon and exhaled deeply as she forced away any remorse at the deal she'd just made.

Tay-0 was just gonna have to win.

Sarah

When the sun was out, Sarah found herself on the same chair she'd fallen asleep on in the middle of the trackside workshop with a makeshift blanket draped over her. She stood up and ignored the faint ache that plagued her neck, although she did resolve not to fall asleep on a chair again anytime soon. Instead of pondering on it, Sarah left the blanket over the chair and made her way towards the sunlight, and she took a deep breath in as she observed the scenery of the riot racing dome in front of her, its bleachers already filled with enthusiastic watchers and wagers.

That was one more thing amongst the many she hadn't thought she'd do since the war ended, but it wasn't the worst by any means.

Her gaze scanned the area and eventually found Wrecker and Omega overlooking the track with what appeared to be sticks of fried street food clenched in their hands, a breakfast worthy of the place they were in. When Sarah remembered the weight of their current situation, she lost all physical need to eat, and it was replaced by the plain longing for everything to be over. She'd learned not to be overly optimistic about anything a long time before that.

But the race was going to happen whether she wanted or not, and the moment she acknowledged that was also the moment her gaze landed on Tech in the distance. Also overlooking the racing track, his back was turned on her and he seemed to be holding his datapad in hand, and Sarah would have been far more pleased at the sight had it not been for Tay-0 hovering over Tech the entire time. Sarah could hear Tay-0 talking, unable to make out what exactly he was saying, though it wasn't necessary to. His circuits got to every last nerve of hers whether Tay-0 was near or far.

Sarah chuckled at a thought. With Tay-0 being so vocal that close to the start of his race, it was evident that Tech had fixed him up well. She never doubted Tech, of course. Tech could do anything, for better or for worse.

Sarah's mind pondered on Tech until the entire racing dome seemed to vanish around her, but her attention was robustly brought back to reality the moment a speeder flew past her eyesight, blocking her view of Tech for a split second only for her to realize that the vehicle had taken Tay-0 alongside it. The next thing she noticed was Tech beholding the crash site, astonished, and then he ran towards the scene of disaster where the racer walked out of his crashed vehicle without a scratch.

Tay-0 hadn't been as lucky.

Sarah, Wrecker, and Omega all ran after Tech towards the crash-site, and none of them were optimistic. It was Wrecker who reached into the ruined speeder and pulled Tay-0's limp chassis out, and they could all instantly realize this hit hadn't been like the one he'd suffered in his previous race. There was no light in Tay-0's specs, not even a flicker, and smoke was emerging from the inside of his head. The last sounds of his modulated voice could be heard as a drag of sound lowering in pitch, signaling the poor droid's futile end.

"What happened!?" Cid called as she approached the site.

But the others were still speechless and exchanging looks, as though doing that - or not doing something about what had just happened - would change the fact that they'd just lost their pilot. Cid finally caught up to them and reached towards Tay-0, and as she did, electricity crackled from the inside of Tay-0's metallic remains, which darkened the smoke that was already emerging from him. And, as if it wasn't bad enough already, the bewildered silence that clouded Sarah and the others was broken abruptly by a thunderous, mocking laughter.

"Looks like a forfeit," Millegi announced himself as he and his crew approached their opposing team.

His presence managed to put Sarah, Tech, and Wrecker on guard, while Cid walked up between the two teams holding her hands out.

"Now, now, this ain't a forfeit," Cid tried to persuade.

"You have no racer," Millegi gestured at Tay-0, limp and broken in Wrecker's grip. "No racer, no race, no victory. Those are the rules, and you know that better than anyone."

Cid's features hardened, and she didn't budge. The gesture of defiance riled Millegi, and suddenly he seemed to become taller as he glared down at Cid.

"I'm waiting for you to hold up your end of the deal," Millegi threatened.

"No," Sarah walked forward and positioned herself next to Cid. "Our deal stipulated a result after the race, not before it. We still have a right to run the race."

"That loophole never worked on me," Millegi told her. "Your buddy Cid here learned that the hard way. I'm surprised she was stupid enough to put her foot in her own grave a second time."

"Hey, there's no need for language like that," Sarah tried to moderate, but he was admittedly getting on her nerves. "We'll find a racer, we'll win, and then you'll let us be on our way."

Millegi chuckled. "You still have a lot to learn despite your reputation, little girl. You may as well just dump Cid now and make a better name for yourself, all of you," he gestured at the others behind her.

"Our loyalty is our business," Sarah replied.

“And where is your loyalty coming from?” Millegi turned to Sarah with a devious smile. “Even if I let Cid run free, you’re not going back to Ord Mantell, pretty girl.”

“What?” Sarah’s frown eased into concern.

“You’re coming with me,” Millegi looked her up and down. “Didn’t Cid tell you she offered you up instead of the money?”

Laughter emerged from Millegi’s henchmen, and Cid saw herself scrutinized by the batchers’ pairs of eyes. Omega looked at her in disbelief, Wrecker looked angry as he began stepping in front of Sarah, and Tech looked at Cid with disappointment.

Sarah’s gaze held sheer wrath.

“What the hell is he talking about?” Sarah pierced into Cid’s gaze.

“I knew what I was doin’!” Cid tried to persuade. “I knew Tay-0 was gonna win, I’d never make an offer to hurt ya, Strider.”

“Enough talk,” Millegi said, and one of his henchmen paced towards Sarah.

But Sarah intended to blast her way out of that one if that’s what it took, and she quickly unholstered her hand blaster, pointing it at the Gamorrean guard, and everyone around them pulled their weapons out in unison.

“Easy,” Millegi held his hands out, gesturing to his men to lower their weapons. “A deal is a deal, and as a former pirate, you should know it’s about the business. Your racer is down, and you cannot race, therefore you forfeit and the wage’s in our favor.”

“Oh, we are running that race,” Sarah nearly yelled. “I’m not going to give myself up just like that, you’d better be sure I’m—”

“I will be the racer,” Tech interrupted.

Sarah lowered her blaster as she turned to look at Tech, her nebulous eyes raided with fear and confusion.

“Well, this is interesting,” Millegi crooned.

“No way,” Sarah walked up to Tech. “No, I’m the one being offered, I’m—”

Tech looked directly at Millegi. “I will race.”

“Done,” Millegi accepted the wager.

Millegi left, followed by Cid and his henchmen, and Tech wasted no more time before the race. He directed himself towards the speeder, and once the confusion wore off, Wrecker went over to help him take it to the starting line. As much as Omega attempted to calm Sarah down, the latter felt she was incapable of such a thing. What the hell was Cid thinking, and why the hell would Tech make such a rash, uncalculated decision?!

Sarah ran after Tech when he was readying himself to get into the speeder, leaving Wrecker to look after Omega. Sarah ran as fast as she could, not giving a damn about the personnel repeating to her that she wasn’t allowed near the racers.

“Tech!” She yelled during those final steps, and when she reached him, Sarah clung to his forearm with desperation. “Tech, how could you do this to me?!”

“I am getting you out of harm’s way,” Tech faced Sarah, stern, yet comprehensive.

“By putting yourself in the line of fire!” Sarah was near crying. “Tech, this is my problem, my race to run!”

“I have analyzed the course and the mechanics of the sport,” Tech said. “You, on the other hand, are not thinking straight. Finding out that Cid would bring you into the wager is a shock, and thus, you are in no condition to race.”

“I can’t let you do this,” Sarah’s voice quivered as she made her last attempts to hold back tears.

“You have trusted me on dangerous endeavors before, and I have emerged victorious,” Tech said. “By my calculations and analyses, this will be the case again. I have the correct strategy.”

“Tech—”

“This is the best way, Sarah—”

“I can’t lose you!”” Sarah finally cried, thundering across the entire starting line. “I… I lost Crosshair… I can’t lose you too, Tech.”

Upon noticing her distress, Tech set his helmet down on the ground next to him and when he faced her again, he took his goggles off and looked at Sarah with his own eyes. And when he did, Sarah stopped crying—it was almost as if she’d stopped breathing for a moment, and without blinking, Sarah stared into Tech’s eyes in awe.

“You have beautiful eyes,” she whispered.

Tech paced closer to her and gently brushed the back of her palm with his gloved fingers.

“Trust me,” Tech began. “You will not lose me. Not today, not ever. For all purposes, Sarah Adhara, I am yours, and I have now chosen the duty of making sure you do not end up in Millegi’s hands. And I will not fail.”

Sarah sniffled as a wave of emotions coursed through her. Feeling both hot and cold on her marks from the confession she’d just heard Tech speak, as well as the fear of him not making it out of the race, she felt she would break if she didn’t do anything at the moment. Without thinking of it any further, Sarah cupped Tech’s face with her hands and perked herself up on her toes, and she pressed her lips to his. The way she pressed herself towards him seemed desperate, but the way her breath slowed down as she was with him spoke of true adoration and gratitude, and when she parted from the kiss, her eyes had pooled with tears again.

“Come back to me,” Sarah uttered.

Tech gave her a hint of a smile as he replaced his goggles over his eyes. “Do not doubt.”

“Racers, to your speeders!”

At the final announcement, Sarah knew it was time for her to let Tech do what he did best. She returned to the sidelines next to Wrecker and Omega, who each held onto one of Sarah’s shoulders as the racers’ names were being called, partly out of comfort, but mostly out of mutual nervousness. The danger of Tech’s current situation didn’t escape them either.

But the moment the starting bell blared, Tech seemed like a natural, at least, that was until he fell into the last place among the racers. The pronounced curves of the track and the high speed weren’t his problem, as he was a fantastic pilot, but none of that would matter if he lost.

Sarah became filled with dread, and her mind began to wander with the possibilities of what would happen. She would set fire to the racing dome herself if it guaranteed her and her family’s freedom—perhaps if everything went wrong, she could finally find an excuse to hide in a remote planet, or declare war on Millegi and his gang, as well as Cid. The dread returned to Sarah as she remembered she was capable of offering her.

But then, Sarah felt a warmth scattering itself over the blue of her marks. Her familiar hunches were never wrong, and at that moment, she could hear what the Force was telling her to trust in, and her instincts all pointed in the same direction. Tech was the best pilot down there, and he was the smartest, too, far more capable than any machine programmed by a mind inferior to his, and far more reckless than the racers from the low worlds.

Trust.

“He’s climbing!” Omega cheered as the screens projecting the race around the dome showed Tech’s speeder passing one racer after another.

The final lap was upon them, and he was already in third place, but that also attracted the attention of Jet Venim, who didn’t intend to go easy on Tech. The tunnels were approaching for the last time in the race, and through the comms, Tech announced his intent to cross the left tunnel, the one revered as a death trap.

And though none of the stunts were easy to watch, Tech was successful in all of them, just as Sarah’s instincts had told her. Finally, Tech was at the last leg of the race, and this was it. The three speeders in the lead were close together, two of them very clearly harassing Tech’s vehicle, and at times it really seemed Tech would end up in a crash and a subsequent loss. In the last tunnel, it became difficult to keep track of the speeders given how close they were, and emerging from the tunnel, everything seemed to collapse. Blasts were fired, metal could be heard crashing, and a large cloud of dust hid the speeders from view at the very moment when the tension was at such a high point that the dome fell silent in expectation.

From the cloud of dust, the small blue speeder sped through the finish line, and the announcer called Tech’s name, declaring him the winner.

Sarah let out a scream that blended surprise, relief, and admiration, and alongside her, Wrecker and Omega cheered like they hadn’t done in far too long. Around them, the crowd gathered in the racing dome went wild, with their cheers albeit carrying surprise, but an undeniable satisfaction at the result of the race they’d just witnessed.

Sarah ran down to the track with Wrecker and Omega following closely after her. As Tech got down from the speeder and removed his helmet, he seemed as neutral as he always was about anything, and it didn’t seem like he cared if there was an entire crowd around him chanting his name. His expression only shifted to astonishment when Sarah threw her arms around him and leapt into his arms, causing Tech to spin as he held her, feeling her fingertips tracing soft patterns around the back of his head.

“You did it!” Sarah panted as relief and adoration finally showered upon her. Tech had single handedly pulled her and the rest of the squad out of any trouble. He’d made sure she would be safe, that she would return home without anyone following her. He had raced for her, and he’d succeeded.

“Yes,” Tech answered matter-of-factly. “I told you I would.”

Sarah chuckled, and she didn’t undo the embrace even as Wrecker and Omega caught up to them. Despite not reveling in his own success even when his siblings brought it up, Tech then looked up at the racing dome filled with his newly acquired fans, all of them chanting and repeating his name in unison, their hands flailing in the air as they celebrated his victory.

Tech watched them and approached the scene with the same curiosity with which he approached anything that was new to him, and with one hand still holding Sarah’s silhouette to his side, the other one went up to his temple, and he offered the crowd a brief salute that made the cheering thunder around them.

Sarah grinned at the sight of him acknowledging his crowd, and the way his lips curved softly into a tiny smile didn’t escape her. She felt like she could have kissed him again, but she let him enjoy his glory undistracted for a few more moments.

He truly deserved that.

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NEXT CHAPTER -> 

[drafthorsemath]

Antidote (TBB Tech x afab Reader)

Tech x AFAB Reader (use of she/her pronouns), but all of the Batch included

Word Count: Five words over 3.3k

Warnings: Sex pollen but not the usual trope (no sex and an alternative is found), suggestive sexual language and situations but nothing acted upon, restraining for safety, some strong language, frank description of biological processes, creative use of a tampon, some feelings of shame but they are addressed, NSFW, younglings begone

A/N: I can’t read sex pollen fics. I tried. It wasn’t my thing, but then I got an idea and @staycalmandhugaclone encouraged me so here we are. This is not a call out or meant to be negative toward any sex pollen fics. This is just a different take.

Also on AO3.

You met the Batch on Pabu and in the months since, found yourself spending more and more time with them. This was especially true of Tech. You found his thirst for knowledge and direct nature easy to understand and get along with. Though, you were doing more than getting along. You weren’t sure how to tell him, but you had fallen for him.  His brothers all noticed, but he seemed not to. What you didn’t know was that he simply didn’t know how to bring up his feelings just yet.

The boys had decided to visit a nearby planet and since there didn’t seem to be any danger, no one had any objections to you coming along.  You hadn’t been on a ship since you first traveled to Pabu and you loved watching as you flew through hyperspace. Tech landed just outside of a city and you all headed toward the market. Hunter and Echo went in search of supplies while Wrecker, Tech, and Crosshair all helped buy food to bring back to Pabu. You were particularly interested in the local fruits and vegetables that didn’t grow on the island you called home.

“I think this is enough,” you said, putting down the last crate next to the pile.

“Is it,” Wrecker asked. “I could eat all this in a couple days.”

“Yes, but we’re just getting what we can,” Crosshair responded. He didn’t want to make more than one trip back to the ship.

“Well, we can carry more,” Wrecker retorted. “At least I can.”

Crosshair gave him a half-hearted glare but helped purchase a few more crates.  Wrecker easily carried most of the load.

You turned around to look for Tech.  He was busy scanning some kind of contraption that caught his eye one booth over.

“Ready to go, Tech?”

“In just a moment,” he replied.

Wrecker and Crosshair walked ahead, catching up with Hunter and Echo who were waiting near the edge of town with some ship parts.  You knew a moment for Tech could mean anything from a few seconds to much longer than that but wanted to stay with him.

He put the item down and walked with you. “The wiring on this new style datapad results in faster computations. I want to see if I can rewire my own and achieve similar results.”

“That didn’t look like any datapad I’ve ever seen,” you replied.

“Ah, the outside is only meant to grab your attention. It is a new model. The inside is what interests me.”

You smiled at that.  Tech offered to carry the crate you still had, and you kindly accepted.

Once back at the ship, Wrecker took the crate from Tech. It was decided you all would spend the night on the ship and head back the next day.  Tech cleared his bunk so you would have a place to sleep, insisting he could sleep in a chair.  While you felt it was incredibly nice of him, you also couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to share a bunk with him.  The thought left your mind as he asked if you wanted to come with him to document some of the local flora.  After dinner, the others stayed around the campfire while you and Tech walked over a few hills and to the edge of a forest.  He excitedly took pictures and samples, telling you about each plant and its properties.

“This one has several medicinal uses,” he said, handing you a pink flower. You smiled at it and then back at Tech.  You gathered several and put them in their own storage bag for transport.  Multiple species of flowers were packed before you looked a little further into the woods.

“Tech! Come see!”

He walked over and immediately noticed the large teal blooms that opened as you walked by.

“Fascinating,” he said. He took a picture and noticed that as he got closer to you, the flowers seemed to open even further. He scanned them, looking for any known properties. His face dropped as soon as the results showed up.

“We need to go, mesh’la!”

“What? Why?” You sneezed.

“It may be too late.” He took your hand and briskly walked you out of the woods. Your face suddenly felt hot and your throat burned.

“Tech, I don’t feel well.”

“We must get back to the ship,” he said nearly panicking. “I believe those flowers create an aphrodisiac that specifically affects females of several species.”

No sooner had he said that, and your limbs felt like jelly and you fell against him.  Something wasn’t right. You could swear you felt all your blood rushing to your groin and let out a moan. You tried to run, but felt a great weight on your ankles. Tech lifted you like you weighed nothing and ran toward the Marauder. Hunter stood as he saw his brother carrying your body. Preparing for the worst, the boys all stood up asking what was wrong and following Tech on to the ship.

“A large flower opened, spreading pollen,” Tech stated. “I believe it is an aphrodisiac and it has already started to work.”

He sat you down, scanned you, and confirmed your symptoms. The others stood behind him, looking rather helpless. He sighed and gave you a rundown of what to expect. Very brief fever followed by extremely high libido and high energy until satisfied.

Crosshair looked from you to Tech and asked, “Isn’t there a way she can take care of this on her own? You know? Manually?”

“Negative,” replied Tech. “Based on the information available, orgasm does not help in mitigating the symptoms. It appears this particular pollen only effects females and it does not wear off until either sexual intercourse with a male is completed or her hormones shift with her next menstrual cycle.”

“Next period?!” You really started panicking. “I can’t feel that way for that long!” You wanted to cry and yet you could feel that you had to fight to remain yourself even now. You knew it would only get worse. “Look I… Tech I…” You searched for words, feeling overwhelmed. This was not how you wanted to have this conversation, but it seemed like you had better get it over with. “Tech, I have feelings for you. I really like you, but I don’t want to have sex with you or anyone right now, for that matter and I’m afraid of what I might say or do in the next however long.”

Tech quickly processed the information and couldn’t help but smile. “I believe the feeling is mutual,” he said, still kneeling in front of you. “I promise no one will do anything you would not want done in your healthy state of mind. You have my word.”

“That’s great,” chimed Echo, “And I’m really glad for you two, but how are we going to fix this without waiting?”

“I have an idea,” Tech replied.

No sooner had he said that and the fever hit. You felt like you were on fire and cold as ice at the same time. Wrecker stepped toward you to hold your hand. “It’s gonna be okay,” he said. “If anyone can solve this, it’s Tech.”

You tried to nod. Your whole body shook with fever, but within a few minutes the fever was gone. You knew that you weren’t yourself, but there was no way to stop it. You looked at all five men greedily and started to take your shirt off.

“I want Tech first,” you said with a smirk.

“Now now,” Wrecker said, still next to you and taking your hand away from your shirt. “None of that.”

You tried to stand up and looked at each member of the squad. You giggled to yourself that you just thought about the word “member.” They would do nicely, but you would give anything for Tech to throw you onto his bunk and fuck you through the bottom of the ship. You walked closer to him and he adjusted his googles.

“I know this is not you,” he said.

It quickly became clear that you were going to be quite a handful.  Tech did research as fast as possible, finding flowers that reacted similarly.  Wrecker held you in his lap with his arms wrapped around you after you tried to jump on Hunter as he walked past to assist Tech. He was also trying to keep you from acting out your latest threat of walking up to Tech and sitting in his lap naked. You made several comments about each of the men, but would not stop talking about how much you wanted Tech.

“We know,” Crosshair said, sitting next to Wrecker.

You turned your head toward Crosshair and smiled like an idiot. “Jealous,” you asked him.

“I didn’t say that,” he replied in annoyance.

“It’s okay if you are,” you countered in a sing-song voice.

Your body then decided that since you were sitting on a man’s lap, you might as well start thrusting your hips.

“Nope,” Wrecker said, lifting you off his lap. He was strong, but you were giving him a run for his money with how much you were squirming.

“We’ll sit with her awhile,” Hunter offered, dragging Echo with him. “Crosshair too.”

“What? Why me?”

“Because you’ve only sat next to Wrecker. I think we’ll all have to take some limbs or something.” Wrecker sat you down on the bunk and Hunter held you back before you could lunge at Tech. You nearly yoinked him halfway across the Marauder. Hunter managed to sit you back down with Echo holding one arm, Hunter the other, and Crosshair sitting on the floor hugging your legs.

“This is ridiculous,” you giggled. “Just let me fuck your brother. Just once.”

Hunter sighed. He knew you were going to be upset later. Tech had already discovered that there is no lapse in memory for this particular drug, so you would remember every moment of this.  He hoped you would find solace in the fact that they all knew this wasn’t really you. 

They were all getting tired and while Wrecker wanted to help Tech, he knew there was little he could do, so he tried sleeping until it was his turn to hold you again. Tech worked furiously through the night. He grimaced when you hit the next stage and complained you felt throbbing.  You had gone from flirty to begging for someone to put your out of your misery “with as much cock as possible.” When that didn’t work you cried. He knew it must be painful by this point. He couldn’t stand to hear you cry.  Your body was simply reacting to a drug. He felt guilty for not knowing this plant was in the vicinity, but it had never been documented on this side of the planet before. How could he have known?

In the middle of the night, Wrecker woke to stay with you while Hunter, Echo, and Crosshair tried to get some sleep. You made a lot of noise, but they tried. Wrecker had to admit that he didn’t do any more than doze. They were all worried for you, but being in war and under stress, they had learned to sleep when they can and then get up and do their part when it was time. They got what sleep they could.

You wailed when Wrecker held you, trying to scramble away to get to one of the men. He just kept apologizing and telling you he was keeping you safe. You managed to turn in his lap and wrap your legs around his waist.

He sighed. “I know you don’t want that. Not really.” You started crying again and all you could seem to feel was your pulse between your legs and a chemical drive that would not go away.

At the front of the ship, Tech started to make some progress.  He smiled to himself when he found a research article on this species of plant. He needed one of the pink flowers you’d collected earlier along with two drugs from the med kit.

Hunter hadn’t done much more than close his eyes, but he sensed the med kit being opened and went to try to help his brother.

“Will you restart the campfire,” Tech asked.

“Sure. What progress have you made?”

“We are not able to create or obtain the hormones needed to trigger her menstrual cycle and end this using that method. However, it is theorized that the reason sexual intercourse causes the pollen to cease its effect is because of the presence of semen in the vagina. Specifically, one protein found in seminal fluid. Now, obviously that is not an option for us, but it appears a similar form of this protein can be synthesized using the pollen of some flowers we collected. While not ideal, there are some items in the med kit that can help this chemical process.”

“Great, but how do we get it in her,” Hunter asked.

“We don’t,” answered Crosshair, now standing behind them. “Put whatever you make on a tampon and ask her to do it herself.”

“Would that work,” Echo asked, joining them.

“I believe it is the least invasive option,” Tech replied.

They all nodded. Hunter went outside to start the campfire.  Tech sterilized some equipment and joined him.  It seemed simple enough. He only needed part of the flower and then the heated wound disinfectant along with bacta gel would cause the protein to be isolated. Hunter dug a tampon out of the emergency supplies.

Echo and Crosshair helped Wrecker who held your legs, while the other two sat on either side of you. You were tired, but still acting ravenous. Your method had gone even further in the direction of complaining about how you were hurting, and you just wanted all this to be over. 

“It doesn’t have to be Tech,” you declared. “I’ll take any of you. Please!”  You then melted in Echo’s arm and looked at him with stars in your eyes. “Changed your mind yet? Any of you?”

He simply shook his head, trying to show he cared, and held on so you couldn’t pounce on anyone.  You turned to Crosshair on your other side. He held your arm and tried to help keep you still as best he could. You quickly moved to try to bite his neck and he pulled away. “No thank you,” he said. “I’m saving that for someone special.”

You were trying so hard to fight the drug coursing through your system, but it was a losing battle. After what felt like ages, Tech seemed satisfied with the concoction. There wasn’t much of it, but once it was cool enough he dipped the end of the tampon in the gel and walked back onto the ship. The boys let go enough for you to walk toward him. Your flirty symptoms appeared again, and you wanted Tech so badly. You looked up and down his body with no shame. He really took your breath away.

Tech found your glances made him nervous, but simply cleared his throat.  Just as he was about to explain why he was holding a tampon, you started sniffing the air.

“That smell,” you said.

The men all looked at each other. “Can you smell it,” Hunter asked. “The protein?”

“Whatever it is, I want to sit on it,” you replied with a grin. You homed in on the tampon.

Tech cleared his throat again and explained, “I have created what we hope will reverse the effect of the drug, but you need to insert this yourself.”

Crosshair and Echo were still each holding your arms, but not too tightly. You seemed to calm and they let go. You took the tampon and went to take your pants off, but everyone stopped you. Tech opened the refresher door and you walked in. He closed it and everyone sighed.

“I hope this works,” said Echo. “All I smell is floral bacta gel.”

In the ‘fresher you regarded the tampon with a little suspicion, but your body seemed to be on autopilot. You placed the tampon and immediately the ache started going away. You took slower breaths. You washed your hands and realized your nerves had been on fire for hours.  You looked at yourself in the mirror and felt the heat in your face start to drain. Instead, you realized all that you had said and done, or tried to do. All kinds of emotions flooded your system. You were sure that Hunter could sense the change in you from the other side of the door, so you made no effort to report what was going on. You weren’t sure you wanted to see or talk to any of them yet. You were covered in sweat from all your activity and wanted a shower.  You stripped off your clothes and briefly stood under the water. Just enough to clear away the feeling on your skin.  When you got out, you noticed someone had left you the spare clothes you’d brought, and you slowly put them on. After a few more minutes of staring blankly into the mirror and letting the antidote work, you finally reappeared.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “I didn’t mean all that.”

“We know,” Wrecker said, pulling you into a hug.

“Glad you feel better,” Hunter said.

“Been thinking we might all get some shut eye before we leave,” Echo suggested.  Crosshair nodded with a little smile on his face. For the first time all night, he popped a toothpick in his mouth.

You nodded, thanking them for helping you.

“Especially you, Tech.”

He wasn’t sure what to do. Should he hug you? Hold you? Keep his distance?

“Here,” he said. “If you find you need more to counter the drug, I will put this in a safe place.” He showed you a container with the small puddle of gel he had made using the flowers. You smiled at him.

“How did you figure it out?”

He walked you to the cockpit after closing up the ship as the sun rose. He sat you down, noticing how physically weak you looked. Sitting across from you, he told you about his research and how he found a way to mimic the protein structure that seemed to shut down the drug.  You smiled. Of course Tech would figure it out.

“I’m sorry again,” you said.

“Cyar’ika, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, reaching for your hand. He gave it a soft squeeze and smiled at you. “None of this was your fault.”

You returned the smile and sat back, looking like you might fall asleep.

“Let me help you to bed,” he offered. You took his arm, needing it to steady yourself. Your legs felt like jelly for a whole different reason this time.

You got into bed. In his bunk. The others were already sleeping. Tech sat on the end of the bed, but looked conflicted. When he originally offered to sleep in the pilot’s seat, he didn’t know all of this would happen.

“Tech? Can you stay? Is that okay?”

He nodded, but suddenly seemed a bit nervous. He had never shared a bed with anyone like this. What he said earlier was true. He had feelings for you and knew you had feelings for him. He wanted you to feel safe, so if you wanted him close, he felt it would be alright now, although he wasn’t sure what he was doing as he laid down.

“How would you like me to, uh…”

“Like this,” you replied, taking his hand and laying it across your middle. Not too close or tight, but just there. “But however feels right. I trust you.”

He softly smiled and relaxed. “Goodnight mesh’la.”

[clone-anon]

Hey, clone-anon <3 I absolutely adore you're writing. I hope you're doing well! Could I request Tech helping Reader who has severe insomnia due to depression/ADHD? Like Reader not going to bed until 4 am and then not getting out of bed until late in the day? They just can't seem to get themselves to go to sleep cause their mind is just...so, so overwhelming. Eventually, Tech notices this pattern and decided to try to help? Can be romantic or platonic <3

(Ignore me asking for this at 3am shhhhh)

I went with platonic Tech because I couldn't figure out another way to make an idea work. I hope this helps!

You were up. Again. Staring at the bunk above yours and mind wandering. Where were these thoughts going? Why couldn't your brain calm down? You took some deep breaths and closed your eyes. It was well past midnight and Tech was finally coming back to his bunk to sleep. At least you weren't the only person up. You looked over and his eyes met yours. You gave him a weak smile and even in the darkness you could see some worry on his face as he returned the smile and got into his own bed. You heard his soft snores several minutes later. While he might be up late, at least he could fall asleep almost immediately. You had to admit to being jealous of that.

This went on for many weeks. You struggled to fall asleep. You were grateful the boys let you sleep as long as you needed, but felt bad that your schedule was all over the place. They never made you feel bad, but they were all concerned.

One day Tech approached you as you were getting ready for bed.

"How can I help," he asked, unprompted.

You stopped brushing your teeth and turned to him. "Wif wha," you asked, toothbrush still in your mouth.

"You are not sleeping well. You are up later than I am. Something is clearly the matter."

You sighed and finished brushing. Tech stood there patiently. You walked toward the cockpit and sat down with him. You tried explaining what was going on. How hard it was to fall asleep and how your body felt tired all the time. You felt trapped in this cycle and simply making yourself get up earlier didn't ever seem to help you fall asleep sooner the next night, so you didn't know what to do.

"I am happy to help," he replied, "if that is something you want."

"I'm willing to try almost anything," you replied.

"While I am not always one for physical closeness all the time, I wonder if sharing a bed with one of us would help. Or perhaps a weighted blanket."

You started with the blanket. You were able to fall asleep a little sooner, but not much sooner. After a week of that, you decided you wanted to try sharing a bed with someone. When you approached Tech, he said he would be happy to.

He stayed up to his usual time, but worked while laying in bed with you. As it got later, he adjusted his position and you snuggled up against him. When he put his datapad down to sleep, it was just past midnight, but you were already tired. You felt his steady breathing and his warmth. He put an arm around you and pulled you closer. Your mind calmed and your body fell into sync with his. Before you knew it, you were both asleep.

The next morning, you woke up with him, feeling better. This continued and as time went on, your body started to calm next to his each night. Tech started putting his datapad away earlier, his body quieting next to yours and both of you falling asleep together. Whenever things got to be too much, he noticed and offered you space to talk about it or methods during the day to release your emotional energy in whatever way you needed. He liked going on walks with you and he liked getting into bed with you and listening to you as you softly told him what was on your mind. Being together helped soothe you both to sleep.

[clone-anon-after-dark]

Don’t Leave (Tech x F!Reader)

Tech x F!Reader

Word count: 2191

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI, mutual masturbation, oral sex (both receiving), unprotected sex, facial (kind of by accident), strong feelings and moment of embarrassment

A/N: established relationship, but first time together, and Tech’s first time, I hope I did okay I don’t know guys

There are two versions of this story.  The M!Reader version can be found here.

Tech had never felt a strong need for sex or relationships of a romantic nature, but things changed as he got to know you.  You had to make the first move, telling him how you felt and asking if he felt the same.  Once the conversation was initiated, he smiled a little shyly, but confirmed that he did indeed feel the same.  In fact, he was so in love with you, he didn’t know where to begin.  Although he kissed you first, asking permission one evening while holding your hands as the sun went down, you were the one to initiate the discussion about adding further layers of closeness to the relationship.  Tech had never considered himself a cuddler before, but it was different with you.  He was able to rest much better when he was touching you in some way.  You were also the first one to bring up the topic of sex.  Tech was very proactive in his research and asked many questions about what to expect when being sexually intimate.  His questions were both general and specific to you.  He had never done this before, but was “excited about the prospect” and his desire to learn as much as possible beforehand left you feeling safe and cared for.  The two of you decided not to make a date of it, choosing instead to take your time and see how things developed, proceeding when it felt right.

You found yourselves messing around in your shared bunk one morning while the others were gone.  Laying side-by-side, you started leaving little kisses along Tech’s jawline and down his neck to his collarbone. 

“I love when you do that,” he said.

You smiled and hummed against his skin as he ran his hand down your arm and interlaced his fingers with yours.  He brought your hand up and kissed it.

“Tech,” you asked with a grin.

“Yes?”

“We’re going to be alone for at least a couple hours.  Would you like to try going further?”

He kissed your hand again and pushed his goggles back into place.  “Yes,” he replied. “I would like that. My body is already having a strong reaction to you.  Although, perhaps we hold off on penetration for now.”

You nodded and ran your hand firmly up and down his arm, grounding him, and he continued. “I find the idea of mutual masturbation very appealing.”

You kissed his wonderful lips and whispered, “So do I.”

“In that case,” he replied, “I am going to set an extra alarm so that we will have ample warning should the others return early.”  He kissed your forehead, got up, and hurried to the door of the ship. You heard a switch click near the door and some buttons on his datapad.  You smiled to yourself.  An extra precaution like this seemed very Tech.

He came back to the bunk, sat on the opposite side of the bed, and smiled.  You sat up and moved toward him, caressing his face and kissing him deeply.  You felt him hum as your tongues moved together like telling gentle secrets. His hands moved up and down your back over your shirt before he pulled away slightly to ask if he could remove it.  You nodded.  He tugged your shirt off and lifted his arms so you could take his off.  Your lips found each other again and you could swear you could feel your hearts beating together.  

You knew he would ask permission at every step.  Ever communicative and you loved that about him.

“Tech, can we just… let’s get naked.”

“Yes.”  He immediately started taking his pants off and you laughed a little at his eagerness and started helping him. In no time you were lying next to each other, completely undressed, slowing the tempo as much as you could, sensing his nerves and some of your own.  You rubbed his back and traced a path down to his ass.  He let out a contented sigh and copied the movement on you.  It was as if his fingertips wanted to memorize every little aspect of your body.  You could feel his hard cock twitch against you in anticipation. You cupped his face and kissed him, savoring the warmth of his mouth and the faint taste of caf.

You stopped briefly and searched his face.  “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I am ready,” he replied, his thumb brushing your cheek. “I want this too.”

“Tell me if it’s too much,” you said, lifting your leg and laying it on his hip to give him access and taking his length in your hand.  Tech nodded, closed his eyes, and let out a slow breath at your touch.  You kissed him and his hand reached down, gently touching your folds.  He moved closer to your entrance and moved your slick around, circling your clit.  His cock felt amazing, so hard, soft skin in your hand and the way he worked you over felt almost reverent.

He tried to take a steadying breath and managed, “It is better than I imagined.”  

You simply kissed him in response, wanting him to feel as good as possible.  You reached down to fondle his balls, causing his breathing to hitch, before slightly changing the movement as you pumped his cock.

“This okay,” you asked.

“It feels immensely pleasurable,” he responded. 

He started tracing new patterns on your clit and massaged two fingers between your folds before returning to your clit.  You both started moving a little faster, finding a rhythm that left you both moaning softly and with your hearts racing. The pace was interrupted.  Tech’s orgasm crept up on him quickly and he came in your hand.  His gasp was immediately followed by panic.  He stopped, desiring to escape his embarrassment at finishing so soon, his face flushed red, he turned away, and sat up on the edge of the bed.  

“I am sorry,” he said.  His voice was shaky and any rejection you may have felt was surpassed by your desire to help him feel secure and loved.

“Tech you have nothing to be sorry for.”  You quickly cleaned off your hand before reaching out and touching his arm.  “Don’t leave.  It’s okay.”

He slowly turned toward you and you pulled him back into your arms. You held him for a few minutes and felt him start to relax again.

“The point is for it to feel good,” you said softly, kissing his temple and holding him close.  He rolled his eyes and you felt some relief at the sign of him shaking off his insecurity. 

“I know that,” he replied. “I did not think I would ejaculate so quickly.”

You kissed his temple again.  “It’s your first time.  That’s very normal.”  You laid together, lightly touching each other.

After several minutes he stated, “You have not finished though.” You could see him thinking.  “May I try something?”

You answered in the affirmative.  He sat next to you, kneeling over your heat as you laid on your back and moved your legs apart for him.  He paused, looking at you to see if there was any hesitation.  When you nodded, he began licking your folds, satiating his curiosity for how you would taste.  Your heartbeat quickened at the sight.  His warm mouth on you caused you to let out a series of little moans.  He licked circles around your clit, then tried sucking on it, and reached to caress one of your breasts.  When you gasped, he made sure to give the other one attention, rolling his thumb around your nipple as his tongue rolled around your clit. It sent fire through your body.  The way he looked at you, trying different touches to see what you liked made you feel an extra layer of vulnerability and at the same time it was such a turn on.

He settled on a steady rhythm with his tongue, trying to keep it simple and not overthink it, but paused to ask, “Would you like me to continue or change what I am doing?”

“Can you add a finger? Inside.”

He kissed your clit and started circling it with his tongue again while slowly inserting a finger into your hole.  You clenched around it immediately as he dragged it in and out.  Now that he found a rhythm, all your muscles tensed in anticipation.

“I’m close,” you mumbled as you felt heat rising through your body. 

Tech kissed your clit again and whispered, “Good.”  He continued delighting your senses, reaching over again to play with one of your nipples. You let out a soft moan and came.  He drew out all the pleasure he could from you before coming up to lay next to you.  He left little kisses on your face, laying with you as you caught your breath.

It soon became apparent that Tech was ready for another round, offering an almost immediate opportunity to help him get more enjoyment out of his first time and worry less about performance.  You looked down at him and then licked your lips, again looking into his eyes.  He blushed, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Would you like to see what it feels like,” you whispered, kissing his earlobe, “Having you in my mouth?”

He nodded quickly and a breathy, “yes” came out just before you gently pushed him on his back.  You tried taking your time, kissing a trail down his chest before swirling your tongue around the head of his cock and taking him in your mouth.  As he hit the back of your throat you hummed and watched his head roll back on the pillow.  You started sucking him off in earnest, bobbing your head and cradling his balls.  His hips started to thrust against you just slightly. You smiled, hollowing out your cheeks and causing him to whimper.  

He stopped thrusting and you could tell he was trying to hold back, trying to make this time last longer.  You took him out of your mouth and started pumping his length.  When you reached up to run your hand along his chest, he held it in his own. 

“Don’t hold back, Tech,” you softly encouraged.  “Just enjoy it.”

You licked the underside of his length a few times before continuing to pump him, resting your cheek along the head of his cock and looking at his beautiful face as he watched you work him.  He started to thrust his hips into your hand slightly and you opened your mouth so the head could move against the flat of your tongue.

“I am clo-,” He came with a shudder.  His spend landed on your cheek, lips, and hand.  You licked the corner of your mouth a little and his eyes grew wide.  You could tell that seeing you like this awakened something in him.

You crawled up along his body as he let out panting breaths, trying to regain his composure.  You looked at him with all the love in your heart and he started to relax.  He reached for a washcloth and gently cleaned your face off before kissing you.

“That was wonderful,” he said. “You are amazing. Perfect, and I love you so.”

“I love you too,” you replied, closing your eyes and resting your forehead on his.

You did not stay like that for long.  The moment Tech looked at the chrono, he worried the others would be along soon and catch you.

You knew he would be worried and already had a suggestion.  “Let’s gather everything that needs washing, throw it in the laundry, grab some clean clothes, and shower together.”

“Yes,” he replied.  “An excellent idea.”

He efficiently grabbed everything that could possibly indicate the two of you had been intimate while the others were gone and made sure it was thrown in the laundry.  Grabbing spare blacks, he joined you in the shower.  The water felt amazing to both of you and you relished your time like this just as much as you had your previous activities.

After cleaning up and toweling each other off, you got dressed and came out of the refresher much more at ease.  Tech turned off the extra alarm he had set earlier and sat in the pilot’s chair.  He held out his hand and pulled you into his lap, kissing your neck as you rested your cheek on his head and rubbed his shoulder.  He did not take out his datapad, much to your surprise.  Instead he held you in his lap and sat silently.

“What are you thinking,” you asked.  “I know you’re thinking.”

“I am simply making a mental note regarding the techniques you seemed to prefer.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. I want to pleasure you in all the ways that make you happy.”

You both talked about what you liked and what you wanted to try next.  It was not surprising to you that Tech found comfort in this type of debriefing, the sharing of information and discussion of future endeavors helping him feel closer to you and secure in this new aspect of your relationship.

[lothcat-lothcat-lothwolf-run]

this would go crazy on the holonet

[lightspringrain]

These are panels for chapter 1 and chapter 2 of my CX-2 Tech fanfic "Return From Darkness". If you like emotionally rich, grounded and character driven stories, please be sure to check it out! It is one emotional roller coaster ride. Art done by Collophora. Concepts by me.

[phantasmagoriatime]

Finally

My art for the @clonebang (thank you so much for this event!)

Also super BIG kudos💜 to my teammates for making the process so fun and really special!!

The source of inspiration is an amazing story What We Did on Felucia by @wolveria

And the source of motivation is very talented artist @binkyisonline

[alligatorpie1945]

"Twenty minutes later he’d made it back to his room with no memory of the journey and the taste of vomit stuck in the back of his throat.

No one asked what he’d done - it was an unspoken rule, never to ask - but Wrecker opened his arms and let Crosshair disappear into them without a word."

--Twelve Seconds by @eriexplosion

About a year or so ago I asked for fanfic submissions to be turned into comics! And this was one of them! I had actually started drawing this a year ago, but just now got around to finishing it!

It's a pretty heavy fic, but its short and really well written! Id suggest checking it out if your in angsty mood!

[amandamadeathing]

I can't find the original image to reboot and credit, but here you go.

TECH: When I analyzed Omega's DNA, I noticed an anomaly in her blood. Upon further research, she has a high volume of midichlorians."

WRECKER: What does that mean?

TECH: There was a correlation between a "high M-Count" and a Jedi's abilities using the Force.

OMEGA: Does this mean I'm a Jedi?!

TECH: Possibly. You would need extra training by a Jedi to use those skills.

ECHO: I've never noticed she has Force skills.

TECH: I thought her ability to connect with animals was an obvious manifestation of such abilities.

HUNTER: I am sensitive to vibrations. Do I have the Force?

TECH: It seems of the Kaminoans' experimental Clones, only Omega was specifically given a high M-count, which probably explains why she is so valuable to Nala Se and the Empire.

ECHO: Now we know what we're up against. Thankfully, we don't need to collaborate with any suspicious women to get this information. We must find a more secure location to hide. I will contact Rex immediately.

[lifblogs]

A Shift in the Galaxy

Neurodivergent Tech Week 2024 Day 2: Comfort Person @neurodivergent-tech-week

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 1424 Summary: Tech writes a letter to Crosshair after fleeing Kamino, a letter he will never send. Crosshair finds it after Tech's death. WARNINGS: Canon Compliant Character Death, Grief, Heavy Angst READ ON AO3

Crosshair,

I am not quite sure why I am doing this as you will never see it, but… talking to the others seems… hard. We’re always so busy now being on the run from… well, from you, I suppose. Though…

It’s not really you, is it?

I have to tell myself it’s not. I have to look at the facts, put things in order. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one doing so. Hunter is… You know him. He likes to keep moving forward, and keep moving forward, putting things behind him without analyzing, or taking another look because he has to think about his squad.

And I can’t accept that.

I can’t accept that this is you.

Things just don’t add up. They don’t feel right, like the entire galaxy has shifted its place in the universe.

Order 66 went out. That happened. And you tried to follow it. You tried to execute that padawan we were helping without provocation, without good cause.

That’s not you.

You like to sit and think, you like to act carefully, and with the utmost precision. I know you do.

It was as if part of your mind was overridden. Just not all of it.

You were harsher.

You were angrier, especially with Hunter.

You wanted to distance yourself.

You were taken from our cell.

What were you taken for, I wonder?

I suppose we never did find out, though I have a few horrible hypotheses. (Experimentation, perhaps?)

Thinking about it turns my stomach, it makes me all tense. I wish I could have done something to stop whatever had happened from happening. Yet, I believe I am supposed to think about you being taken from our cell. It is another fact to add to this complicated situation. Another fact to add to the list that suggests you didn’t actually want us taken captive, or dead. Another fact to add to the list that suggests you are not well, that you are not yourself.

I worry about myself sometimes—the inhibitor chip. What if mine activates? What will I do? And what of the others?

Will I do what you did? Will they?

Are you… still in there?

Are you alive, Crosshair?

Or is it just the Empire now?

What did they do to you?

I find it ironic that you were the person I always went to when I needed comfort. Your steady silence was supportive, a strength that I think others might overlook. I need you right now, but I need you because you’re not here. How funny is that? Though, funny isn’t the right word. This isn’t funny at all.

This is…

I am…

I am afraid.

But I hope you are okay. I hope the Empire isn’t hurting you, causing you even more harm. I hope you’re still in there somewhere. I hope you can fight this.

I miss you.

I’m not exactly supposed to talk about it, I don’t think. There’s so much else we need to discuss that conversations about you are quickly ended. And we have Omega to look after, after all. I know she barely knew you, but she seems to miss you too. I find comfort in that—in knowing that I am not alone in caring for you now. I wish you knew you were a person who could be loved, that you could accept that you are in fact a person like the rest of us, with needs and feelings. (Or are you even that anymore? I don’t have enough data to analyze the situation. I feel like I am looking at a gaping hole where evidence should be, where answers should lie. Where are the facts? The numbers? I grasp for them, but what is there to hold on to?)

I know Hunter misses you. He just won’t say it. I hope someday you can believe that he did, that he didn’t want this for us, for you. I think he has to keep going because if he looks back at Kaller, at you being taken from our cell, then he will believe he failed, that he wasn’t the leader we all needed him to be.

He still is, in my opinion. I believe Hunter is a great leader, and I know at the end of the day you carry this belief as well. Or you did. Perhaps, somewhere in there…?

On Kamino we had had difficult choices to make, and we’d had to make them quickly. You have to understand, we could not have stayed. Not even for you.

My heart clenches as I type these words.

I would have liked to stay for you, perhaps. But it would not have been the ideal situation. The Empire would have hurt me too, would have hurt all of us. They would have made me lose myself, like we lost you. And I do not believe in them. I cannot. I refuse to. How can you…? Can you…? No, the inhibitor chip. It’s the inhibitor chip.

My wish was that you could have come with us, that maybe we could have helped you.

Even now I am trying to collect the right data so I can build a scanner for the inhibitor chips, to—I don’t know—perhaps remove them.

Is that possible?

I hope it is.

I miss you.

I want you back.

We… we have your armor and your gear, by the way. I hope we can have the chance to return it to you someday.

I feel unmoored without you here, like there’s something missing for me to lean on. It’s… lonely, despite being around the others all the time.

Whatever you’re doing, wherever the Empire has you, I hope you’re okay.

That’s all I want.

I just want you to be okay.

And if being okay means you don’t need us anymore, then I… I will try to understand.

Just please be safe. Be careful.

The Empire is dangerous.

I fear it will consume us all.

— Tech

The words on the datapad blurred before Crosshair’s eyes, and his legs lost all their strength. He collapsed hard, sitting on a rock, breath forced out of him.

He bowed his head, putting a hand over his eyes.

And he couldn’t breathe.

Why couldn’t he breathe?

It was then that he realized he was letting out harsh, ragged sobs, ripping right through his throat from his chest, tearing its way out of him, stealing his breath, his life.

He knew he had been Tech’s comfort person, had known since they were little cadets. And he had loved the moments where Tech sat with him, leaning against him, sometimes talking, sometimes just doing his own thing. Crosshair had never needed to say much to make Tech feel better.

To think that he had needed him, and he’d been…

Crosshair knew that the inhibitor chip wasn’t his fault, but the rest of it…

And yet Tech had thought of him, had written to him, had cared, had wanted him to know that the others cared too.

Now Tech was gone—a gaping hole in Crosshair’s life, a wound in his torso so large he didn’t know how he was alive some days.

His last memories had been of them on Kamino, of Crosshair wanting to be left behind. Why had he done that? He knew why. He’d had his reasons. And they all felt so stupid now. The time he’d squandered, the distance he’d put between himself and his brothers.

Tech had died trying to save him.

Tech had written to him.

Tech had cared.

And Crosshair had thrown that all away, had shoved Tech and his family so far from him it was like they had been in different galaxies, separated by his own actions, his own feelings. His own idiocy.

Crosshair had made Tech need him, and he hadn’t been there, hadn’t been able to comfort him.

For one devastating, fleeting—perhaps cruel—moment, Crosshair thought he could feel Tech leaning against him, could feel Tech seeking comfort from him. Then it was gone. He was gone.

Crosshair was all alone, nothing but birdsong, and crashing waves to fill his emptiness.

He hugged the datapad to his chest, and sobbed till the world seemed to rip apart.

Tech had been right: there had been a shift in the galaxy, and now it was missing one of its most incredible lifeforms. The galaxy was a lesser place for not having Tech in it, and Crosshair worried, that he was a lesser person without his brother.

[meshla-cyarika]

[inkybyl]

Everybody Gangsta till they gotta take their lil sister to nursery

I’m super ill so I finished some old sketches of a Modern/Gang Family type AU I still wanna flesh out 🫶

Lowkey wanna waffle about the ideas real quick in case I don’t draw them

Below is big brother Wrecker and lil brother Tech I love them.

Basically I had this idea that Hunter (as the eldest) has been looking after Wrecker and his younger twin brothers Tech & Crosshair. Still trying to figure out a way to make this work, but one day their dad, Jango Fett turns up at their door with another pair of toddler twins in his arms, Boba & Omega, and asks Hunter if he can take his new little sister in.

I have a concept dialogue so I’ll just throw it in here 🤣

~

“And you’ve come all this way just to tell me you’ve got more kids?” Hunter gruffed, leaning on the doorframe with a displeased look on his face while crossing his arms. Jango sighed, running a hand through his curly locks, “I know this isn’t ideal. But- I don’t know where she’d be safest.”

Hunter tilted his head as he stared down at his blonde toddler sister, “Us? You’re just going to dump her on us?” He questioned, feeling his heart rate increase in a flurry of different emotions.

Jango stared down at his daughter with a solemn look, closing his eyes as he took in a deep breath, gently squeezing Boba’s hand, “Hunter- there’s no time to explain-“, “No time to explain. Right. Plenty of time to make us and move on like we’re just not here until it’s convenient, apparently.”

Jango stared down at his son, his skull tattoo on full display as Hunter refused to break eye contact. He didn’t have the energy to fight. “… Please…”

Hunter’s head recoiled in shock at the gentle tone in his voice, staring back down at his little sister who kept fiddling with her long-sleeved shirt. “Her name is Omega. She’s a curious one so keep an eye out for that. Where I’m going… it’s no place for her… she needs a family that will look out for her.” He muttered, swallowing in an attempt to moisten his throat. Hunter looked up at his father, his eyes flicking to the floor, “… Why not Rex… or Cody? She’ll be safer with them.” Hunter whispered, turning his head away. Jango shook his subtly, running his hand over Omega’s soft hair, “Just look after her, yeah?” He grumbled, his tough personality returning bit by bit as he realised the tears forming in his eyes.

~

So yeah!

In terms of Wrecker - he was only a couple years younger than Hunter so he could help out with looking after the twins, Crosshair and Tech. I have a headcanon that Wrecker was incredibly skilled/knowledgable with technology, weapons and electronics, and while Tech was growing up he had a natural talent for those things, but still needed teaching.

Wrecker would teach Tech different skills like building things from scratch, how to disarm or arm a weapon/explosive, etc etc. In terms of this AU, I’m thinking that Tech desperately wanted to impress his older brother by showing him how much he’s learnt from him, but he got a bit ahead of himself.

~

“Wrecker! You’re back! Come, look at what I’ve built!” Tech joyously exclaimed, pulling his taller brother’s arm through to their garden. Wrecker, back from a work out, was finishing the rest of his drink as he chuckled softly at his little brother’s excitement. “Alright, alright - I’m right behind you.” He playfully shook his head as he ducked out of the way of the doorframe, walking down the steps as Tech sprinted to the other end of their common.

“Stay there, Wrecker! Take a seat on the steps!” Tech ordered with a massive smile, “I know you’re going to love this!”

Wrecker smiled and took a seat on the wooden steps with an audible ‘creak’. “Ooh, am I going to see some fireworks?” Wrecker called over to Tech, squinting to try and see what he was bringing out. Tech pulled out his newest contraption, modelled to look like something Wrecker had tinkered with previously. Wrecker couldn’t inspect the handiwork in detail from where he was sitting, something he would usually like to do before Tech would test his newest experiments.

Tech smiled at his device, it appeared to be a form of firework launcher, possibly to assist the velocity the devices could travel at and reach higher altitudes. He knew how much his older brother loved explosions of different varieties, watching the beautiful combustion of chemicals mix in a stunning array of colours, sound and temperatures.

He ran back and forth to assemble all the remaining parts, grabbing some fireworks along the way, lining them up in his contraption. “I have created a far greater firework launcher, if this works we can create our own larger versions, and if they get launched with enough altitude, the massive blasts will not affect our sight or hearing! We will be able to appreciate the massive blasts by creating a safe distance!” He rambled with a giddy smile, showing Wrecker one of the fireworks from where he was standing.

Wrecker smiled genuinely, but dropped slightly as his gut twisted in discomfort. Something was wrong. “That sounds awesome, Tech. Let me take a look at it before you start pointing that around,” he chuckled, hoping to sound as casual as possible, placing his hand on his knee as he slowly stood up. Tech waved his hands, “No, no, no! I’ve got this!” He cheered, lining up a larger-than-normal firework into his device, he probably custom made it, too.

Wrecker’s stomach began to churn, his voice slipping to the big brother tone, “Tech, let me see it,” he said, beginning to walk over to his younger brother. Tech’s face dropped in disappointment, brows furrowing as he looked down at the creation, before flicking his eyes back to Wrecker. “Wait, Wrecker! I can show you- i-it works! I promise! Look!” Without thinking, Tech activated the device, the fuse being lit instantly as he stepped back to watch it fizzle and crack. Wrecker’s ears could pick up on the irregular sounds of the firework’s fuse burning away, not liking the way Tech’s device groaned and whined in an eerie way.

Wrecker’s pace increased, “Tech, get behind me will ya?” His voice was raised, outstretching his arm towards him with his palm open, “Now.” He could see Tech’s brain start to take everything in all at once, the upset expression on his face, and his hands desperately trying to shake out the tension that’s hit him instantly. The sounds of his experiment started to grow louder and more unstable, the modified firework on the verge of blasting off. “Wrecker- I promise! This one will work! I’ll be able to show you! I’ll—“

Wrecker’s body moved all by itself - barrelling himself towards Tech in one strong push of his heartbeat. The contraption reacted with the firework, the combination of the chemicals and elements combining in a dangerous combustion. Wrecker managed to move Tech before any shrapnel could reach him, shielding him from the blast by his hip, holding him with a bruising-tight grip. Wrecker’s adrenaline was kicked into overdrive, only feeling the pressure and heat from the explosion on the left side of his face and shoulder.

Tech was frozen underneath his brother’s hold, covering his ears while trying to control his breathing before a panic attack could ensue, his brain rattling with multiple thoughts and words whizzing through his head - almost screaming at himself. Time must have gone by because he could hear Wrecker’s laboured breaths, shakily turning his head to stare up at his elder brother. His eyes widened at the blood drops that splattered on his cheeks and goggles, unable to take a breath in at Wrecker’s marred flesh. “W-Wrecker..?”

Wrecker’s eyes were dark and lifeless, not even able to blink as his eyes would twitch up into his eyelids instead. The blast had charred and burned all of the left side of his head, the smell of his skin made bile rise up to Tech’s throat as he could see how the metal shrapnel must have sliced across his nose, eye brow and lips. Wrecker began rocking slightly, his laboured breaths slowing down as he stared down at his little brother. “What.. what’s with you…?” He grunted out, completely unaware to the extent of his injuries, only being able to focus on Tech’s horrified expression before his vision went completely black.

~

Had these written out and thought I’d share! Very early concept stages ofc, but I love playing with these ideas. After the blast, Wrecker’s ability with his previous interests had dropped significantly apart from his knowledge about weapons and demolitions - and I think after an explosion to the side of your head would alter your physical mental being, possibly keeping him at his juvenile state of mind as he grows up.

But yeah! 💫 if you read all of this, thank you so much! 🫶✨

[clone-anon]

Tech x Reader Who is Sick / Going Through It, so to speak

This is for @starqueensthings

Tech sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at you with concern.  He placed a hand gently on your shoulder.  It seemed like a horribly unfair turn of events, saying goodbye and getting sick.

“I will be gone for a little while,” he said, “but I will be back. Is there anything in particular you need right now?”

“Just you,” came your mumbled reply. “And maybe a nap.”

He huffed a small smile and rubbed your shoulder, replying, “I will be back shortly.”

Once you heard him leave, you closed your eyes.  Your body demanded rest and quickly whisked you off to sleep.  It was an uneasy peace, but still rest nonetheless.  You woke up and as you adjusted to the waking world, you heard some movement in the kitchen.  Tech reappeared in the bedroom doorway.

“Better?”

You partially rolled over and offered him a sleepy smile with a little nod.

“I made some soup and purchased a selection of beverages,” he said. “Would you like to come out and eat?”

You nodded and got up, wandering down the hall and sitting on the couch.  Tech brought you some welcome food and a drink.  He was very insistent that you stay hydrated.  He didn’t hesitate to kiss your forehead and sat next to you, making sure you had whatever creature comforts he could offer while you recovered.  After eating, you turned on a holomovie and laid with your head in his lap as he gently rubbed your back.

[sinfulsalutations]

𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕨𝕒𝕧𝕖 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕙𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ꜱᴇʀɢᴇᴀɴᴛ ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ☆ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇꜱ ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ʜɪꜱ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜ.

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴘᴏʀɴ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴘʟᴏᴛ, ꜰᴇʀᴀʟ+ʜᴏʀɴʏ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ɪɴ ʜᴇᴀᴛ, ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋ, ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴛᴇɴꜱɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀɴᴛᴀꜱɪᴇꜱ, ᴍᴜᴛᴜᴀʟ ᴘɪɴɪɴɢ, ʀᴇꜱᴏʟᴠᴇᴅ ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴛᴇɴꜱɪᴏɴ, ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴛᴏᴏ ꜱᴇxʏ ꜰᴏʀ ʜɪꜱ ᴏᴡɴ ɢᴏᴏᴅ, ᴍᴜᴛᴜᴀʟ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴜʀʙᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ɢʀɪɴᴅɪɴɢ, ᴍɪʟᴅ ɢᴏʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴏᴜɴᴅꜱ, ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟᴍᴀᴏ

➼ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ☆ 9.1ᴋ

➼ ᴘᴏᴠ ☆ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ

➼ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ ☆ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ - ᴇᴛʜᴇʟ ᴄᴀɪɴ, ᴍᴏᴏɴꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴋ - ᴇɴʜʏᴘᴇɴ

⋆ ★ … ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴇxᴀɢɢᴇʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ, ᴀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ʏᴇᴀʀ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪɴɪꜱʜ. ɪ ʙᴇɢᴀɴ ɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇɢɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴊᴜʟʏ ᴏꜰ 2023 ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ᴘᴜᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ᴏꜰꜰ ꜰᴏʀ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀꜱ ɪ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ɪᴛ ɪᴛ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜʜʜʜ ᴏᴏᴘꜱ ɪᴛꜱ ᴀʟᴍᴏꜱᴛ 10ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ. ᴀʟꜱᴏ, ʏᴇᴀʜ, ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ. ʏᴀʏ? ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ.

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

Despite the gradual (yet quite quick, in retrospect) increment of your feelings toward the skilled soldier, you do, in fact, notice the blunt sexual appeal of Hunter when you first meet Clone Force 99.

It’s difficult not to; with his long hair you can’t quite place how the Kaminoans allow him to have, the striking skull tattoo, his toned body, and discernable shape even through the heavy armor, you can’t help but flutter your eyelashes and rock your feet back and forth like you’re a schoolgirl all over again. Hunter is the Bad Batch’s essential leader, the closest in appearance to the rivaled ��regs,’ leading them as their Sergeant and CT-9901, and he stands out more than any other clone you’ve interacted with.

His warm, welcoming, yet slightly wary smile is just as firm as the handshake he gives you when you first meet him, leaning down a little to your height (you’d think clone defects would be the same height, or maybe even shorter than a veritable trooper, but instead you feel enveloped by his vertical. Not that you don’t enjoy the feeling, of course) and nodding firmly.

Then you hear his voice.

It’s only a short sentence; a brief introduction and warm gratitude for joining them as their medic before you acquaint yourself with the rest of the squad. But your ears wrap around the waves of his rough, musky baritone like a magnet. Everything feels as though it’s finally clicked into place and created the perfect picture of your desired man.

Your mind immediately begins to create dreamy rhetoric, wondering silly things to yourself.

Had your mind been aimlessly wandering the galaxy for this long, circling like materials until you finally found an opposite —An opposite so charmingly rugged?

The feeling that rushes through you feels so destined.

Lucky for you, Hunter seems to express his commands frequently with his voice; sometimes hushed through a link, the vibrations of your comm humming pleasantly between the soft undersides of your fingers as he talks.

It always during the times when you’re deep past enemy lines, taking down clankers more efficiently than a Starfleet. Initially too, as you were still trying to memorize their master list of designated plans and being weighed down by the extra weight of regulation armor.

“Don’t go through there yet. Squad of clankers waiting for us.”

“You sure, Hunter? I don’t hear any steps.”

“Take it from the person with enhanced hearing, little medic. Just wait for me.”

Other times when he speaks to you, it’s thunderous commands; ones that he yells out across a field or war front. It frightens you at first, your shoulders jolting and hands instinctively clamping over your ears to deafen the noise, but you quickly realize he’s ordering you to act. Once you get used to the intensity, you come to equally enjoy and indulge how his voice takes on a new edge in fleeting moments of urgency and demand; a once blissful burning of wood turning into threatening crackles, and from there a bleeding forest fire.

“Wrecker, move in! Now, now! Crosshair, how’s the bird's view looking?”

It’s incredibly embarrassing how something as simple as his voice can leave you this breathless. Even from the snide comments he can’t seem to help himself from saying when Wrecker retells stories to you, either from their days as shinies and cadets to missions where you stayed back on the Marauder. Between Tech’s rambling and Wrecker’s enthusiastic narration, the sound of Hunter’s voice becomes even more of a calming sedative to you.

Though it equally arouses you in other moments.

How his morning voice is somehow even lower and raspier than his regular tone is a study that must be researched and conducted by only the galaxy’s best scientists. It seems just so impossible, unbelievable; none of it is inauthentic either—the grogginess is always equally spread through his body, from his tired slouch and ruffled hair, lolling eyes, the unkempt composition of the clothes hung over his broad shoulders and slim waist. It’s unspoken the things you might do if you felt there was even the slimmest chance of starting your every day with that sound so deep and lovely right in your ear.

When he addresses you directly before you both allow yourself the time to sleep, asking you to check on old injuries or patch up new ones he got on the last mission. He always manages to get hurt in the most menial yet bothersome ways, and you’re once again forced into close proximity; you’re beginning to consider paying a few scientists and investigators to study the sexy phenomenon that is Hunter. But either way, you sit legs crossed at the ankles in the cockpit, forcing yourself to zone out on anything he might be saying every few minutes so you don’t have to squirm and change your position in your seat every so often and prevent showing how damn flustered and hot he makes you; in more places than just your cheeks and ears.

In flitting moments you get time to relish in his conjured wavelength, take in the scene you can create with just the sound of his voice; he transports you to a world of the dark morning fog, the red of his bandana the most vibrant sight in your nearest vision as he takes you on the forest floor just like that, no civil thoughts daring to come to each of your minds as he finally gives you the relief you crave for in real life.

Your depraved fantasy of Hunter is all you can dream of when you sit yourself on your fingers, holding back as many of the impoverished whines you wish to let out due to your true desperation for such an attractive man.

And the sweet indulgences you luxuriate in make you selfish. You want more, need to know how he’d sound grunting, moaning your name while his cock lay on your tongue. Or how the oscillations of his words feel on your inner thighs, against your clit when he pushes his fingers past your tight barrier. There’s much more you could learn, could explore if you could attempt an advance. Or simply given something more than slight moments of suggestion that he might have the same deviant desires as you to allow the green light.

You’ve yet to receive such signals. And flimsy fantasies, the work of your fingers to chase unattainable pleasure, and insistent memorization of his voice can only keep you quenched for so long.

-

“Hunter,” The inadvertent, pathetic whine crawls up your throat the moment you feel his breath on your neck, lingering over your skin even as he pulls back after hearing the noise you make.

“Just a little more,” He reassures you. The hand not firmly gripping your wrist pats your shoulder, and your cheeks flush at the passing fondness. “Let’s try to get one more shot on target and we’ll call it quits, how does that sound?”

With the warmth of your flushed face spreading to the rest of your body, you mutter,

“Sounds good,”

and try to softly shake off your arousal, eyes zeroing in on the middle of the tree, the finger hovering over the trigger surprisingly still. You’re about to take the shot before he starts instructing you again.

“Fix your foot stance,” Hunter gently guides your legs apart with one of his own, fixing the positioning of your feet planted onto the dirt and you take in a deeper breath than you intend to. The fire kindle of his voice and the fire kindle of your core are equal matches now; the husk of his chunked honey tone will certainly turn you to mush if he continues any further, it feels.

Really, how does this oblivious, heart-seizing bastard expect you to keep your focus on this pointless shooting practice when he’s got you this compromised?

“Try again now,” he says after he’s got you in the position he wants. You huff again, letting the fiery stimulation fall to your diaphragm, and breathe down your arousal. Just one hit on the target and you’ll be free of this torture.

But as you lift your arm again, eyes narrowing closer and closer to your prize, the imminent feeling of his leg between yours rears its head. You become so incredibly, annoyingly aware of it, and grimace, biting your lip softly and knitting your eyebrows together to fully get him out of your mind and body. You tug on your bottom lip and pull the trigger.

The bullet lands left side.

A deep groan of frustration leaves you; it sounds much quieter with Hunter’s rumble and grunt in your ear. You gently pull away from his grasp, handing him the blaster, and turn to face him directly. And when you catch that damned expression you promptly decide that you don’t like to see him disappointed; at least, it looks as though he’s disappointed. Eyebrows pinched together with the smallest frown, his chin curled into himself as he looks down at you (Maybe you should look into research for lawyers in the case of when you sue Hunter for the neck pain he’s caused).

“It’s alright,” He assures you, but it doesn’t feel right. And from the way he looks at you, it’s not alright.

“No, it isn’t,” You tell him exactly that, your fingers curling and interlocking together by your stomach. His eyes dart down for a brief moment of scanning, and they don’t linger too long; Maker, you wish you had the power for your eyes not to glue to him and his absolute stature instantly when you enter a space. “I should be better at this by now.”

Hunter clicks his tongue and turns away, as if deep in swirling thought. His gaze comes back to you before you know it.

“You should be,” He agrees, but nothing is degrading or critical in his voice. In his eyes, the wave of gentleness that cascades and shifts his expression, there’s unconditional empathy that you do not deserve and he wouldn’t grace you with if he were to know what you beg him to do to you in your dreams.

“We can try again,” You then insist, but Hunter quickly shakes his head.

“We’ve been working on this for an hour,” He tells you, slickly spinning the blaster back into his holster. He sounds tired as well, a new jaggedness in the smoke tendrils of his voice. “That’s more than enough practice.”

“But I just want to–”

“I know.”

Somehow, those words are more devastating than anything else he’s said. You look back and catch the mysterious glint in his eye, almost as elusive as his words might connotate on a foggy day.

“Trust me,” He continues. You don’t even realize his hand has wandered and softly taken your chin between two fingers until you feel the soft pads brush against your skin; your jaw slacks. He pinches your chin a little tighter to ensure your eyes are fixed on him. “You just want to prove yourself.”

Well, of course, you think to yourself vindictively. It’s enough that you feel ever-so-slightly out of place in a squad of clone troopers, let alone defective ones; not being able to properly handle a blaster in the mere presence of your crush is even more embarrassing. How juvenile.

“We can try again another time. But you’re tired. I can feel it,” He continues. There’s the slightest hint of gentleness you only pick up on because of how you hone all your focus on dissecting and admiring every single crevice of his articulations. Suddenly, he drops your chin, and your head lolls back into place, rather sloppily, and you look up through your eyelashes. “Time for us to sleep, I think.”

With that, Hunter whips around and heads toward the ramp to the Marauder. You’re left there with a smarting jaw, discreetly trying to rub your legs together and take the heat out of the area.

“Alright,” You sigh, glancing around before trotting after him, the white noise keeping your thoughts off of the man in front of you.

Yet, you still picture what his knee had felt like parting your thighs open only half an hour later. Attempting to recreate it with your arm and then your pillow, you give yourself a foggy release and whimper a jumbled version of his name into your pillow before drifting off, body still buzzing with frustration.

-

The next week, as if the weeks and months before weren’t as excruciating, is pure sexual torture. Not to say it’s entirely filled with frustration and dull aching, however. When you and Hunter have a moment of silence, alone by the cots or the engine or the cockpit together, you both relax into the same, comfortable silence that fills the time.

It’s better to have him not running his mouth off, for sure. You still have to deal with it on deployments and missions, but it’s manageable when you’re knocking down clankers or trying to listen to Tech’s very confusing instructions on how to fly the plane to a certain location to pick them up. But he’s allowing the silence to fester between you two. All the better to preserve the actual sweet, steady relationship you have aside from your fiery attraction, you think.

Hey, it could be worse.

But then the dumbass decides to get himself injured. Get pushed into and dragged against hard durasteel, leaving a gash across his stomach that could challenge Wrecker’s spiderweb scars in its damage. Your jaw practically drops when they return and you see the wound out in the open; you can’t stop yourself before you lurch forward with worried eyes and grasp his wrist around your fingers, pushing him down onto a bench.

As Tech pilots the ship off the planet, the rest all recline and lick their minuscule wounds beside him, while you and Hunter remain cramped in the back, avoiding his gaze and praying to the Maker that he keeps his voice to quiet rough grunts of pain as you try to unclip each different plate of his armor and lay them neatly beside him, tutting when more of his wound is revealed to you.

”Oh my goodness, oh my goodness ohmygoodness,” You stammer to yourself, more and more strained with each breath you take, peeling off the tarnished fabric of his blacks.

“It’s not too bad,” He argues with a soft grin, which slowly fades away when you glare.

“Don’t,” You retort, firm and simple, flashing a genuine look of empathy, and even a drip of fear. If you didn’t know any better, you might think Hunter practically melts under your look with how he slumps and his expression droops. But he’s still an oblivious, sexy fool, you remind yourself.

You don’t even have the energy to fawn over how incredibly attractive he sounds with the rough baritone and anguished sigh-like tone he wears; you instead scramble to open the first aid kit. You can feel his gaze set selectively on you and it doesn’t help. In the corner of your eye, he tilts his head.

“Is everything alright?”

You nod automatically.

“Everything is fine.”

The Marauder jostles in rough air; the ship tilts, your stomach dropping with the altitude change, and you’re unwantedly yanked onto Hunter’s lap with a yelp.

You still for a moment, waiting for the ship to steady again before you become acutely aware of how your chest is almost completely pressed up onto his face. And how your knees are caged over his thighs, your pelvis way too close to his wound for each of your comfort. And pressure against your waist, not too firm but still weighting you to his body–wait, is Hunter holding you to him?

Your eyes widen and you stumble off, stammering nonsensically and afraid to gaze upon his face. You don’t for a long moment, before grabbing the disinfectant and pouring it onto a cloth. 

Silence festers between the two of you. When Hunter does speak, it’s not to you.

“Tech! Get her steady, would you?” He yells across the ship, vexed and evidently not in an ideal mood. Tech immediately retorts in his typical, inappropriately casual, intellectual tone,

“That is not a light request, Hunter. I am already trying.”

Hunter scoffs and you finally get the gall to look at him. He exchanges a mutual look of annoyance and manages to grin wider for you. The sight soothes your frayed ends ever so slightly, and you stare down at his stomach again at the wound, biting your lip as you inspect the damage.

Your hands come to the hem of his blacks and you give him a silent ask with your eyes.

“Is it alright if I take this off?”

He hums, which you take as a yes, and you slowly peel it off of his skin, trying very, very hard to ensure your stare doesn’t linger. He looks at you with a mysterious gaze that's too hard to place for your liking. But you just try and shake it off as you slowly dab his wound with the bacta-dipped cloth, pressing it firm against the injury.

When he hisses, you perk up with wide eyes.

“Did that hurt?”

Hunter clenches his teeth and nods slowly, and you pull away with shaky hands. His arms reach out, encircling his fingers around your wrist, and guides them back tenderly.

“It’s alright,” He says, his tone dropping down an octave as your hands tremble again in his grasp. You gain the courage to look up at him, biting your lip softly. The grin he wears manages to soothe your nerves, just a little. “I’ve got you, girl. Just let me guide you so you don’t hurt me.”

You let out a shaky exhale of relief, and he sighs, dipping his chin down, but keeping the intense eye contact.

“How does that sound?”

“Good,” You squeak, the rise and fall of your chest the only constant managing to soothe your fried senses. After a couple of breaths, you finish your thought. “Better.” You press onto a side of his wound, softly spreading the bacta onto it; your eyes don’t separate from his once. “How’s that?”

He huffs, not of frustration or annoyance, but more a comforting relief.

"Fine. Keep going."

The rasp stirs between the space between the two of you, and you take a deep breath before you can do anything else.

With the firm grasp on your wrists and the low tendrils of his voice softly directing you, you continue to tend to his wound, your hands moving deftly over his skin. The thick, intoxicating tension in the air is palpable; the lingering silence between you weighs heavy despite your best attempts to snap yourself out of it and take care of him like you're supposed to.

It's not your fault he just sounds so damn sexy all the time.

"Careful, careful," He tuts when you're stitching up a particularly bad spot, pressing your fingers around the skin and holding it there as you thread the stitch through. "Just a little gentler, please."

Then, "Avoid that spot, please. I can't even-- shit -- breathe without it hurting. Just stitch around it. Yeah, just like that. Good job, little medic," As you're finishing up.

Once you finish wrapping the bandage firmly over the wound and around his waist, taping it firmly to him, he dislodges his fingers from where it's wrapped around your wrist, bringing it to your chin and manhandling you slightly to get a better look into your eyes.

"See, ‘wasn't so bad, was it?" He flashes you a grin, obviously masking the pain etching into his limbs, all to calm your nerves. The fact that he's making such a constant effort to make you feel better despite his state makes you positively soft. "You did great."

You grin back, nodding and averting your eyes.

"Thank you."

There's a pause before he bludgeons you with his next sentence.

"You enjoy getting instructions."

Your eyes widen; you almost drop the first aid kit; everything stills, your chest tight as you process his words. Shit, what the fuck?

What the fuck?

"Wh--What?" You stammer,  taking a small step backward and tilting your head to appear more confused and insulted by the accusation. Maybe if you appear offended, he’ll take it back. "Who said that?"

"You don’t need to say it. I can feel it," He continues, gaze thoughtfully fixated on you. He doesn't even falter when you seem to panic. "I can see it." You try to gawk at him to make him feel stupid, make him retract what he's saying, but either he's so certain or you don't seem very convincing. 

No matter; you're still fucked. 

"You like getting told what to do."

Your heart pounds, and Hunter just sits there, legs spread leisurely, his eyebrow slightly raised in expectation. Seriously, what does he expect you to answer with? Does he want you to fess up and admit how depraved and desperate you are for his touch, then run off mortified to never speak to him again? Surely he doesn’t expect you to take.

Defeated, you sigh and softly run your hands over your work again, avoiding his burning gaze.

"Only from you," you mutter, then immediately pray devotedly to the Maker he doesn't hear. Hunter hums, a tone of question in his voice, then you proceed to figuratively jump off a cliff as you remember this fucker has enhanced senses.

"Why’s that, mesh’la?" He asks. Instinctively, your eyebrows knit together when the new nickname graces your ears.

"What does mesh’la mean?"

Hunter doesn't seem very phased. Can't you just throw him off his rhythm once?

"Don’t worry about that," He quickly excuses your question as a distraction from the question at hand. "But tell me why you only enjoy getting instructions from me." 

There's something smug to the way he talks, hidden behind insistent concern and curiosity. 

"Why’s that, tell me."

Your hand comes up to hide your face, but he takes it and keeps it away from disfiguring his view of your expression. You want to babble; you can feel your face heating up. Instead, you frown.

"I, uh," You try to discreetly rub your thighs together languidly, easing the tension and buildup of heat in between them. A huff leaves his lips that sounds oddly close to a chuckle.

"Come on," You lift your head, perplexed for a split moment, but then he pats the top of his thigh. You blink once, then twice, then another time for good measure, just to make sure you're seeing correctly. Is he... what's he even implying? 

"Sit down. On my lap."

Oh. That’s what.

Your mouth opens, a strange sound bordering on a choke leaving your throat as you try to retort or deny him. He only raises his eyebrows and dips his chin down, gesturing toward his lap again.

You huff, eyebrows knitted, and take a small step toward him, slowly, and you envelop his figure, trapping his legs between your knees and careening slightly, hands still meeting at your stomach, unsure of where to move. He nods encouragingly.

“Good job, just like that,” He praises you, hands slowly rising to rest on the handles of your hips, fingers tracing your waist. You take a sharp intake of breath, eyes drifting down to where your bodies meet, and look back up at him again. Hunter’s wearing this oh-so-innocent, deer-in-headlights expression you know is bantha-shit. “What’s got you so hot and bothered?”

You sough vindictively, averting your eyes.

“Stop teasing me.”

He laughs— though it’s more of a snarky, yet affectionate chuckle. You feel so naked in his presence, given such focused, vehement attention.

“I’m not teasing. Just concerned,” He tells you. The problem is, Hunter does well making you think he’s actually this clueless when he does know and just wants to hear it from your lips.

“Mhm,” You hum sarcastically with a pout.

He manages to grin at you, the corners of his eyes scrunching up as he looks at you. You let your eyes come back to him.

“I can do both, can’t I?” He offers.

“Sure,” You retort.

Squinting his eyes, he casually rubs his hands up and down the sides of your body.

“I’ll figure it out, one way or another,” He affirms, ending the sentence with a wink; you take a deep breath, letting your jaw slack. Hunter keeps talking like there’s nothing thick in the air between you.

“Put your hands on my shoulders.”

You furrow your eyebrows; he pouts like an upset child. Chastising, you huff and do as he says. When your hands shake slightly, he continues giving you instructions. They are so simple, yet they seem so alluring and nuanced in this context. In his voice.

”Steady yourself. Yeah, like that. Good.”

You wiggle your hips slightly, and something boils in his stomach slightly, something bordering on a groan. Your legs are warming up but you have no way to close them and satiate yourself. So all you can do is squirm.

Hunter perks up in concern.

“Are you comfortable?”

You take a moment to respond but then nod.

“Good.” Hunter grins softly, patting your left hip. For a moment, he decides to rake his eyes over you appreciatively, almost in the same way you do when you assume he isn’t looking. “I’m glad.”

Offering a civil smile of mutual understanding, you wiggle your hips, trying to find a better position if you’re going to be compromised on his lap.

”Trail your hands down for me.”

It's hard to deny or disobey him with a voice like that, especially when you know it’s directed toward you. So you slowly let your hands slip from his shoulders and descend his chest and torso.

“Yeah, down,” He encourages you when you reach the top of his wrapped wound. “Maybe try to avoid the gash.” 

You lift your hands and let only the pads of your fingers place feather-light touches over the wrapping. When your hands begin to tremble again the further you descend, reaching his pelvis, he tuts to stop you. “That’s a good place to stop.”

You look up again with wide eyes, trying to stop your erratic (embarrassing) trembles and tilt your head. There’s more he’s going to say. At least it seems so.

“Whenever you’re ready, put your hand over my crotch.” He gives you a soft look of reassurance, making sure you’re completely comfortable in this position, before finishing. “I want you to feel me.”

Gasping softly, you pull your hand away, fingers curling into your palm and gripping tightly. A shiver runs through you, and you can’t seem to figure out if it’s from shock or pleasure.

“What?” You begin, eyes flitting from his face and back. “H-Hunter, I shouldn’t.”

“I’m asking you to.” Polite insistence is the game he plays. If this truly is a trap, you might happily fall if it means you get to touch him. He runs his hands over your curves again. “I want you to.”

You tense further, something bordering on fear in your eyes. Hunter notices and frowns while he clarifies:

“Unless you don’t want it. ‘Cause then… we can stop. No hard feelings…”

You can see how he’s getting lost in his thoughts. For a split moment, that perfect composure he holds in your presence fractures; he seems insecure and nervous; anticipating inevitable rejection because he’s pushed you too far.

That isn’t the case.

As you finally press your palm to his bulge, you contain your gasp. He’s big. And so hard.

“Fuck,” He groans, head tilting back. “Feel that?”

Oh kriff, that rumble. It’s warm and smooth yet rough all the same, creeping its way over your skin until you’re forced to keep the faintest whimper from leaving your throat. You string your lips tight and nod.

“Mhm,” Is the only thing that manages to leave your mouth, whiny and soft. You palm him further, as if the fabric would simply tear away and you could finally feel his skin on yours. He hums again, and you’re left looking doe-eyed in his direction. “Shit, Hunter.”

He throws a heavy statement onto you.

“It’s my voice, isn’t it?”

You tilt your head up, containing the urge to gasp.

“What?” 

“What’s making you so hot and bothered,” He continues. You want to look away, hide your face in your hands with humiliating embarrassment, but you’re trembling so much on top of him that you can’t even flit your eyes away. “You like my voice. And you like it when I tell you what to do.”

You gasp lightly when you feel his warm hand on your thigh. Your cunt twitches and it really shouldn’t. He’s barely doing anything. 

“Well,” he continues, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to deny it?”

The answer is delivered non-verbally. You relax into his lap, palm pressing further to his bulge, and then you squeeze oh so gently. That heavenly groan graces your ears and you devoutly catalog it into your mind for later recollection.

His chin dips down to catch a glimpse of your hand before he meets your eyes.

“Mesh’la,” he says; even without knowing what it means, just hearing how he speaks with such beguile and worship tells all that you need to know. “Mesh’la… can you do something for me?”

“Yeah. Of course. Anything,” You stammer out with a slack jaw, far too enthusiastic. Hunter doesn’t seem to regard it as anything distorting the absolute utmost respect that he must feel while he has you in his lap with your hand on his dick.

“Slip your pants off.”

It’s practically instinctual how efficiently you gingerly push yourself off of his lap and follow his order. With your hands chastely placed above your waistband, you let your thumbs push past, then await Hunter to grant you to pull them off. His eyes dilate with the view, and he nods.

The pants find their way to the ground clumsily, and you cringe internally at your lack of grace, but when you finally catch sight of Hunter’s expression, perhaps it’s nothing to worry about.

He looks… starved. Hypnotized by the splendor in front of him, for his eyes and his hands and his body only to touch, feel, hold, take.

“You’re… fuck,” he sighs, sounding out of breath, as though you’d just swept his leg and taken him off his feet. His hand methodically strokes up and down his thigh, only lightly grazing the tent in his pants as he takes his eyes over how you look, over and over again. 

“You’re stunning,” he finally manages to say. His hand stops stroking to pat his thigh lightly, and his voice simmers in a way you know is on purpose. “C’mere, sit on my lap again.”

“Are you sure?” You ask for permission despite rocking your feet back and forth to shimmy your way back. As you gesture toward the bandages wrapped around his middle, Hunter huffs and frowns with miffed frustration. “You’re still injured.”

Hunter gripes to himself as he pushes himself up, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you to the free space between his two hard, firm thighs. His dexterity surprises you. The warmth radiating from his body does even more.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

Oh.

Shit.

He looks the part, certainly; you only try to feel the faintest tremble of his fingers when his hands float away from your hips to sit on the top of his legs again, 

“Okay,” You mutter aimlessly, reaching up to your face to brush your hair away in a measly attempt to look more presentable. Your voice is just a squeaky little thing, and it’s so incredibly humiliating. “Okay…”

“It’s alright,” Hunter tries to soothe you, and you breathe shallowly.

“I know that.” Your tongue runs over your bottom lip and you heave. “I just…”

Before you’re able to process what’s happening, Hunter’s reaching a hand out to cup your face. Despite the coarseness of his skin, his callouses fall on your cheek, it’s so tender, and you melt into his touch.

“Do you need some guidance, little medic?”

With a slight whine, you nod, letting your lashes flutter. Hunter lets his thumb swipe over your bottom lip, and your mouth parts. He grins at your unprompted compliance.

“Then let me tell you what to do. Let me tell you how to touch yourself and make you come from that, and my voice too.”

A depraved noise is choked out of you.

“Fuck,” your head careens to the side, but his firm hold on the side of your face keeps your gaze on him. His grin turns more into a cheeky smirk.

“How does that sound?” He asks. You nod adamantly before he tries to change his mind, so worried that he’ll push you away at any moment. As though he can read your mind, the hand that was still on the back of your thigh takes a gentle squeeze before trailing up your body, taking appreciative feels of your ass and hips before settling on your waist again.

“Mm…” You hum, reveling in the sensation.  “Really good.”

Hunter gives you a half-crooked smile, and you want to cuss him out, or yourself, you’re not sure who to be fed up with.

“Come on, little medic,” He urges you on, patting your hip. “Slip your hand down your panties.”

Wordlessly, you let a trembling hand descend down your body. You have little dignity left in you to try and make yourself appear more seductive, but you hope your image isn’t so repulsive. The moment your fingertips make contact with your heat, your fingers grazing over your mons and clit, your mouth falls open in a silent gasp.

Hunter tilts his head.

“How does it feel? Are you wet?” 

He should know already, smug bastard.

“Yeah,” you nod, keening further into his touch when he tilts his chin down, leaning toward your ear.

He takes a gentle lick, so light that if you weren’t in his grasp you wouldn’t have noticed.

“How wet?”

Your hips instinctively buck to rub yourself over your hand, a rush of arousal washing over you.

“Re–“ You swallow a wad of spit sitting on your tongue. “Really wet.”

Hunter’s lips are gentle when they undulate as he speaks oh so close to your ear, quiet and warm, words just for you.

“Just from my voice?” When he asks this time, you don’t detect much smugness; he wants the confirmation and credibility for a foundation of fact he’s built for himself.

You nod, but add on more. 

“Not just that.”

“Hm?” His dark rumble travels down your spine and you squirm with pleasant upheaval. Your hand is still awkwardly lodged down your panties with nothing to do. 

“Tell me more,” he demands with an assuasive croon. With one last kitten lick that lingers on the shell of your ear, he allows his lips to wander, mouthing against your skin, leaving delicate kisses on your temple, your jaw, and any moles and freckles in his nearest vicinity while he awaits your answer.

“I, uh,” you begin, awaiting to land on a coherent stream of words loosely strung together to fall on your tongue. “your—“

Just as you feel something begin to tie, your gaze drops down. Hunter palms his full erection over his blacks, languidly as though without a care, and the thought of him being aroused by this, aroused by you, slaps your mind into a render less zone.

“—fuck.”

He chuckles right in your damn face, and Maker he’s just too pretty not to kiss. But you resist the temptation with the festering worry of crossing the barrier past simple attraction into affection.

So you swallow slow and hard and try to compose a sentence.

“Your, face—“

Yeah, real eloquent, idiot.

“—That skull tattoo, it’s, well, shit…”

Your tongue wraps around itself again, words becoming more and more hard to piece together the longer you think about it. All that your primal mind begs you to think of is the olympic man presented under you, and the heat that radiates off the both of you.

“Alright now, you don’t have to continue,” Hunter huffs with no real malice contained in his words. It still makes you cringe nonetheless.

“That bad?” You ask with a clenched jaw.

A simple head shake is all you receive, but it’s more than enough to sedate a growing burn in the pit of your stomach. The hand not pressed to his crotch gently holds your hip, thumb swiping over your panties and bare skin; he even dares to let it slip past the waistband. The accurate awareness of your hand pressed to your pussy returns to you.

 “Don’t want you to focus your energy on that,” he clarifies, eyes looking into yours with a softness you’ve never associated with Hunter. You’d find it peculiar in a regular conversation, but everything about this interaction has been anything but normal.

You suddenly realize you’re at a loss again. “So what do you want me to do?” You ask because you feel humiliated just straddling him like this.

Hunter puffs out his chest and you prepare yourself for the worst.

A coarse hand presses to your navel, trailing up underneath your shirt to sketch an image of your body underneath, stopping right where “Rub your pussy for me.” 

It’s worded like a demand, but he voices it as though it’s a request. Your body wants to tense and retract, but the palm spread over the expanse of your stomach prevents you.

“You can do that,” Hunter encourages you, almost as though you were a creature he’s saddled on to ride. Though in this instance, you’d much rather be the one to ride. “Can’t you? For me?”

With a huff, you look away and nod bashfully. It’s wordless when you begin to move your hand, let your fingers get soaked as they rub up and down, up and down… you’re almost too tense to really feel the sensation, but Hunter’s doting gaze and his firm hand on your stomach keep you grounded. As you collect slick, running your fingers through your folds, it takes heavy petting for you to relax your jaw and let out the most pleasantly pathetic whimper.

Hunter groans, adding fuel to the flame flourishing in your pants, a dark sound of thunder rumbling in the sky, forewarning something much more devastating.

“Yeah, just like that,” he encourages you in that same husky tone following the groan. “Rock your hips too.”

You do so diligently, using your palm to press against your clit as a foundation for the rest of your hand to move leisurely while you rock your hips into himself. Hunter’s hand retracts from your stomach, fingers curling into his palms as he lets his knuckles graze against your skin. When you shiver, he takes it as an invitation to shush you gently against your temple, before his hand falls to your waist again.

The moment you glance down, you have to tip your chin back with an ascendant sigh. He’s got his hand over his clothed erection, palming it with a firm hand, almost absentmindedly as he keeps his eyes on you.

“Fuck, Hunter…” The desperate, embarrassing whimper comes out of you far more loud than you intend. Hunter shushes you gently.

“Keep quiet for me,” he commands; how are you meant to be by him when he speaks like that? 

“Good?” He then asks, seemingly seeking approval good enough for him to continue. “Do I sound as good as you imagined?”

You want to say yes, declare it to the entire galaxy, and tell him just how wonderful this man is, but you’re far too overwhelmed by all the pleasurable sensations disrupting your thought process. So instead you nod.

That seems to satisfy Hunter, and the smallest smirk curls on his lips as he watches you squirm and rock your hips into your hands.

“Don’t you as well.” 

With a hum, you try to dismiss the comment. But only as you let it sit does the implication of his words sink to your stomach. But he doesn’t allow you to dwell on it for too long, it seems, as he continues,

“I want you to keep touching yourself. Do whatever you need to for me. Whatever makes you come.”

He pats his incredibly intimidating bulge as though it’s an invitation.

“Right here, on my lap.”

You resist the dizzyness that threatens to overtake your senses, but as you steady your breaths, you suddenly feel so exposed. Far too exposed compared to Hunter. 

So you try to level the playing field.

“Would you… er…”

If only your words could come out correctly. Hunter raises an eyebrow, perked with a cheeky glint in his eye.

“Hm?” He hums.

You grunt and attempt again to tunnel out the words. Like a plow shoveling out snow or sand.

“It—It feels unfair that I’m the only one here getting off.” 

You wince as you finish the sentence. Maker, you sound so clunky and awkward. So much for being seductive.

But Hunter hums with total compliance, letting his hand trail up to where his bottoms cling to his skin.

“‘Guess you’re right.” Slowly, oh-so-slowly, Hunter peels back the waistband of his blacks, letting his hand slip through to free his cock from underneath the garments.

You think you’ve been knocked out for a healthy minute when you get a proper look. You’d never imagine describing a cock as pretty, but just like everything else, Hunter may become an exception. His fingers curl around the base with rather ease, before reaching up with it to his chin. He opens his mouth, letting a wad of spit collect and drop onto his palm, allowing him to stroke his cock with a more slick movement.

Maker, he’s so… so…

No, that can’t be right. His cock is far too thick for his hand to wrap around it so easily. But then you remember his proportions, especially compared to yours. A small chuckle leaves you when you imagine how you might try to wrap a full hand around his length.

Hunter leisurely strokes himself, eyes set on yours with an intensity that makes your stomach leap bounds up to your chest.

“Now it’s more fair, little medic,” he says. “Don’t you think?”

You nod adamantly with no hesitation.

“Yeah, yeah…” Your fingers deftly move to trap your clit between your index and middle, your mouth falling open when you feel the pressure hum over you. “Shit.”

Hunter huffs with a smugly saccharine look, his hand slowly stroking up and down his cock, lingering at the tip before he returns down again.

“You look really good like this.”

You tilt your head and grunt in disbelief. It’s hard to believe him when you feel simultaneously so powerful and so humiliated. Even though he’s just as physically exposed as you, you still feel more vulnerable.

“Do I now?” Despite being sarcastic, you try not to come off too mean.

But then Hunter sighs out the most exasperated, “ Fuck yeah,” his chin tipping upwards as he gathers his breath, tongue darting out to lick his lips, eyes half closed while he squeezes the tip of his dick, and you’re left render less to your own attraction again.

He seems to see the disbelief in your eyes.

“Don’t you believe me, mesh’la?” He asks. You remain still. “You really need me to spell out just how hot you look right now? How sexy .”

“Hunter,” you whine.

He continues without regarding you.

“I’m trying so hard not to— fuck—“ he tenses his stomach as he tries to compose himself. “—just blow my load right now. You’re just so— so pretty and pliant and so damn obedient .” You tremble slightly, and Hunter reaches to hold the back of your neck; not before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, of course.

“Listening to my every order,” he continues, oddly affectionate. 

A rush of confidence flows through your veins. You try to smirk, but instead it comes out toothy and bashful.

“That’s my job, sergeant.”

Hunter groans, his fingers curling into your neck, one pressing to your pulse point so purposefully. 

“Fuck, don’t say stuff like that,” he says, shaking his head, though he doesn’t seem too displeased. “Or else this’ll be really short.”

You giggle, trying to look away, but Hunter’s grip on your neck keeps your head in place. You blink rapidly, suddenly overwhelmed by his stare. But you can’t. Move. 

You whisper out a weak, “Keep talking,” before your eyes shut close. You press your palm to your clit, whining softly. Hunter uses the grip on your neck to bring you in closer, whispering slow and softly into your ear with purposeful oscillations of his lips,

“I wonder how you’ll feel around me.” You sigh out the faintest hint of his name in surprise, just as you begin to press a finger into your entrance. “I bet you’re so tight you’ll squeeze me out. Warm, and hot, and loud .”

“Fuck,” you swear, both in response to his words and to the feeling of a single finger pumping in and out of you. You’ve done little to stimulate yourself and cum, but somehow you’re already feeling an anticipated crawl up of an orgasm. 

The things Hunter does to you.

“I want your mouth on my cock too.”

You clench involuntarily o over your finger, bucking your hip so your clit catches against your palm. Oh. He isn’t done.

“‘Thinking we’d both have fun if I tried a hand at commanding you around, fucked your face a little.”

Hunter tilts his head. as though expecting a response, so you nod your head — or tilt your chin down, you’re unsure— and he grins in deep settled approval at your compliance.

“How does that sound, hm?”

In a split moment of respite, while he awaits your response, you gaze down, watch his hand wrap around his cock with more insistence than before, stroke at the same rate you move. The hand on your hip drifts down to hold your hip again, rocking you with more fervor. Inadvertently, the movement forces your fingers in a new direction that grazes your g-spot just so perfectly, and you’re sighing again.

“ Oh… ”

The silence becomes too long for Hunter to bear, and he grunts.

“Answer me, mesh’la,” his tone is commanding, yet not overbearing. You appreciate it considering the sliver of shame remaining in your stomach. “Would you like that?”

“I’d–I’d like it,” you stammer out, slowly rubbing a second finger down your folds before pressing in slowly to meet the other. “A lot … fuck.”

With a tilt of his head, Hunter leans in closer, lips dangerously close to yours and for a split moment you consider pulling away. 

“Something the matter?” He asks, but he knows the answer. Hunter can damn well see how your legs begin to twitch and shake more rapidly, the unsteadiness of your breathing as you simultaneously calm yourself and try to bring about your high.

“You fucking know what’s the matter, Hunter,” you bark back.

“I don’t think I’m sure exactly,” he responds dismissively. “Could you say it clearly, just in case?”

Something you hope sounds like a playful growl leaves you, but in reality, it probably sounds like a moth cat purring.

“You bastard .” There’s no real bite to your insult, and Hunter knows it, so he grins.

“I do my best.”

Your pleasure overtakes you and a shiver runs from the top of your spine to your legs, your thumb moving to properly rub your clit.

“Oh, fuck, I’m close,” you’re moaning out before you know it, voice dwindling so you’re not too loud. 

“Ah,” Hunter hums, affectionately rubbing your hip. “That’s what I thought. ‘Was just making sure.” 

His strokes have become more erratic and frantic, but his composure doesn’t give it away. If you weren’t to gaze down, you’d have no tell how aroused he truly was. Though perhaps that’s how he wants it to be— you’re a pretty mess while he’s the foundation to keep you upright.

Suddenly, he’s talking again, using the hand on your hip to encourage you to keep rocking.

“Come on, you pretty thing,” he rumbles. “Come for me and I’ll come for you.” Then you’re remembering what brought you to this attraction in the first place; that damn voice of his. Truly, and you mean truly, never saw yourself being in this position; situated over Hunter’s lap, touching yourself for him while he gets off to you and only you. 

With one more curl of your fingers against your g-spot and your thump insistently rubbing your clit, you’re over the hill, and you’re twitching and rocking your hips over and over in arches of your back, jumbled syllables vaguely making up Hunter’s name spilling from your lips like sticky sweet sugar.

That’s when you hear it. When you glance down to catch his spend start to spill on his bare skin the bandages of his, he groans out the most pleasant incantation of your name you’ve ever heard. The moment the noise graces your ears, you’re certain that you never want to hear anything else. Or at the least, any other version of your name. 

A few moments pass where you remain panting in each other's presence, his hands remaining render less at your side, rubbing up and down in uncoordinated patterns, while your hands grip his shoulders. You only start to pull away from him as you catch your bearings— and your dignity.

Hunter interrupts you by grabbing the wrist of the hand you had stuffed down your panties. He leans in closer, tongue darting out like a teasing little offer.

“Can I get a taste, mesh’la?” His voice is slow, and warm, like honey pouring into a pot of tea—in any other situation, it would sedate your nerves. But those words ignite that fuel inside you. You press your fingers still coated in slick to his lips, and he opens his mouth graciously, letting his tongue swirl around your digits with a gracious hum that vibrates your skin. Your other hand drops to his chest just before where the gash begins and holds onto it with a tremorous touch.

Hunter pulls away with a resounding ‘pop’ that makes you cringe, but not pull your eyes away.

“Delicious,” he remarks.

Your face is hot again and Hunter is smiling wide, but you’ve figured out by now he means no malicious intent with his mannerisms. His hand reaches out, cradling your face 

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Hunter admires you with a glint in his eye you’ve never seen before. Sure, you’ve seen affection— plenty at this point— but there’s a tenderness to his words as he continues. It still doesn’t feel fair to not return the compliment, however.

“You’re one to talk.”

The only response you get is a scoff.

“Have you ever seen yourself?” He asks, posing the rhetoric as if you’d go out of the way to compliment yourself. It’s hard to feel anything more than pretty when you have the most handsome man trapped between your thighs. 

Hunter doesn’t budge — states it like a fact, as though he truly believes it. “I always get ravenous just looking at you.”

“Oh,” You reply dumbly. “I… I didn’t think.” Your ability to talk to Hunter improves after getting off for him, it seems. 

“You thought wrong,” he replies, shaking his head slightly with a smile. He leans his head down, looking better at your face before reaching with his palm to hold your cheek with hands so calloused they feel soft. 

“You’re a capable woman, a great addition to the batch–” Your cheeks heat up, and he smiles. “--And I think you’re beautiful. Mesh’la. That’s what that means.”

Your hand crawls up slowly against his arm, unknowingly following the pattern of his skeleton tattoo before your much smaller hand is placed against his.

“Hunter…” You whine.

He tilts his head, that goofy smile still stuck on his face. “What?”

“You flatter me.” With a shake of your head, you unpeel yourself from his lap, and Hunter whines so, so soft as you do to the point you almost leap back onto his lap again.

“I’m being honest,” Hunter insists, lazily using the underside of his blacks to clean his spend off his skin and the bandages. You’re standing idly, stupidly, and you know he’s waiting for you to say something— and you do, you do, but you don’t know what.

“Well, thank you,” you finally answer, attempting to compose yourself. You awkwardly place your feet back into the holes of your pants, pulling them up in a swift motion that leaves you put away wet, but you care very little at this point. 

You look up at Hunter, appreciatively looking over his features, before a forlorn feeling fills your stomach when you gaze down at his lips. You felt them delicately graze against your ear, wrap around your fingers to gently suck and lap at the spend coating them, yet you haven’t felt them against yours once.

He notices the look on your face.

“Something up?” He asks.

In retrospect, it must’ve been a rush of confidence through your veins after having him in such a vulnerable state only a moment ago, but you truly don’t know where your next words come from.

“Can I have a kiss?”

You expect, hope even, for Hunter to be thrown off his rhythm so he can be on the same level as you for once. Rather he takes a step closer to you, his hand methodically wrapping around the back of your neck again, thumb pressing the juncture between your jaw and throat for that extra leisure, feeling your pulse as he pulls you in for a kiss.

In your dreams, Hunter's kisses are wholly devouring. But in reality, it’s warm, tender, brimming with an underlying passion you least expected. As his lips press against yours, you can feel the velvet caress of his skin, the exchange of breath between the two of you that makes you hum into him.

His other hand rises to gently stroke your back before pulling you closer, and you feel so enveloped in his embrace that neither of you will be harmed again. You press your foreheads together and pull away, each taking slow, savoring breaths.

Truly, you never expected to be in this situation.

“...I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” you mutter shyly, a bashful look on your face. It’s that little smile, that damned voice of his, that delivers the final blow, sending you back into his striking orbit.

“Of course,” Hunter tells you, smooth as ever. “I still haven’t gotten to be inside you.”

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[flightysparrow]

This one was so much fun! I am detailed obsessed and had so much fun planning and adding details. Like Crosshair’s mug says “1# dad”. I also tricked a couple of people on instagram who kept trying to comment on the drawing instead of the post lol.