#tech x datapad | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nahoney22 · 3 months ago

Text

Perfectly Plucked

🫧 Pairings: Tech X Female!Reader

🫧 word count: 3.2k

Plot: Omega mentions to Tech that you love flowers, and luckily enough for him, you love him also.

Warnings: Fluff, safe for work, female reader (she/her), idiots in love, first kiss, nervous Tech.

A/N: it’s been a while since I wrote something cute with my darling, Tech 🩵

“So, what’s the plan?”

Omega’s voice is filled with mischief as she sways from side to side in the co-pilot’s seat, her eyes locked on Tech.

Tech doesn’t immediately respond. His fingers tapped lightly over the datapad, scanning through the incoming reports. But when Omega’s voice cut through the steady hum of the Marauder, his eyes lifted briefly, landing on her as she swayed back and forth in the co-pilot's seat. “Meaning?”

Omega leans forward, her grin widening as she tilts her head toward the viewport, pointing with her chin toward the object of their conversation. “You know... her,” she says in a teasing tone, her eyes sparkling with barely contained excitement. “Are you going to ask her out?”

Tech’s expression faltered for a split second—his eyes widened, just enough to give him away—before he quickly averted his gaze, pretending to focus on the datapad once more. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Oh, you definitely do. We’ve alll seen how you look at her. It’s pretty obvious.” Omega replies, rolling her eyes dramatically before jumping to her feet.

“I do not ‘look’ at her.” Tech mutters, his tone defensive. “I simply observe. That is all.”

Omega arches an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “Sure, ‘observe.’”

She pauses, tapping her chin thoughtfully as she begins to pace the cockpit.. “You could always make her something. You know, something nice and romantic! A gadget of some kind.” Then she frowns. “Although that doesn’t scream romantic.”

Tech looks up with a sigh. “Of course they are not. They are tools for beneficial use. And I do not believe she requires anything like that.”

Omega halts, then leans against the control panel, “Okay, maybe not gadgets,” she says, “But flowers might work. People give flowers all the time as romantic gestures.”

Tech blinks, his mind racing as he processes the suggestion. “Flowers?” His voice carries a hint of skepticism. “Why would she need flowers? They have no functional use. I would know if she had an interest in... what was it she said, ‘botanical remedies’?” He gives a small, self-assured smirk, as though this topic was already discussed between the two of them. “She tends to consult me on those matters.”

Omega rolls her eyes once but grins, “It’s not about the practical use, Tech. It’s about the gesture. Besides, she loves flowers.”

Tech’s brow furrows in thought. He glances over at you through the viewport, seeing you sitting outside the Marauder and methodically cleaning and refurbishing your armour.

His mind memorises Omega’s point, you were interested in flowers or any fauna.

Omega watches his expression change, a gleam of victory in her eyes. “You should really pay attention when she watches those holo-romcoms. You’d see how much she likes the idea of flowers.”

Tech’s fingers tap thoughtfully against his datapad, but his attention has clearly shifted. “I suppose that is true,” he murmurs, as though the idea of flowers suddenly isn’t so far-fetched after all.

Omega, sensing her triumph, beams. “So you’ll do it then? You’ll get her flowers?”

“No,” Tech answers quickly, looking back at his datapad with feigned disinterest. “I do not appreciate your attempts to manipulate me into admitting feelings. Again.”

She chuckles, remembering the long conversation she had chewed his ear off about flying being a ‘feeling’.

“So you do admit it?”

Tech shoots her a pointed look, his tone sharpening just a little. “Omega.”

She raises her hands in mock surrender, backing away with exaggerated slowness. “Alright, alright,” she sings. “But I know she would appreciate it. You just have to admit it.”

Tech huffs, his lips pressing into a thin line. He watches you for a moment longer, his mind still running through the possibility, before he mutters under his breath, “I’ll consider it.”

Omega’s eyes twinkle, her work clearly done. “Perfect.”

The warm, refreshing breeze threaded through your hair as you leaned back against the crate, letting yourself savor the simple pleasure of open air. Sure, it wasn’t exactly a luxurious beach chair on a pristine coast like you had been craving, instead it was a beat-up crate on an overgrown forest floor. Though after days cooped up inside the Marauder, it felt like paradise. Even if the company inside was great. More than great, really.

Your mind wandered, inevitably drawn to a certain member of the squad. You caught yourself smiling, and immediately cringed, pressing a hand over your face.

"Why do feelings suck?" you muttered under your breath, shaking your head at yourself.

After a few minutes, you sat up and surveyed your armour with a satisfied smile. You had to admit, you were really good at keeping it looking brand new. Gathering the pieces in your arms, you headed back toward the ship, still riding the lazy warmth of the afternoon.

You were halfway up the gangplank, not paying attention, when you collided with something - someone - solid. You grunted, stumbling back as a few pieces of your armour clattered to the floor.

“Oh stars, sorry, Tech!” you blurted out as you realised what happened, rubbing your forehead where you'd bumped it against him.

"Not to worry, I was not looking where I was going either," he said smoothly, though there was a softness to his voice that made your cheeks warm. Stars, he really got to you.

You quickly crouch to gather up the pieces of your armour, and Tech mirrors your movements without hesitation. His gloves brush against your fingers as you both reach for the same piece, and for a heartbeat, neither of you move. The slightest spark shoots up your arm, and judging by the way Tech’s hand stiffens just a fraction, you pondered wishfully if he felt it too.

True to form however, neither of you say anything about it. You clear your throat and pull your hand back, allowing him to pick up the last piece.

Once everything’s collected, Tech takes it and puts your armour in the Marauder. You move to step around him, but Tech moves at the same time. You both shuffle right. Then both to the left. You stifle a laugh, glancing up at him helplessly as you try again — and again — failing miserably to find your way past.

“We look ridiculous,” you mutter, half-laughing as you impulsively reach out and grab his shoulders to steady him and yourself.

His body goes stiff beneath your touch, as though uncertain what to do, and his adorable wide eyes blink down at you behind his goggles.

“Hold still,” you say through a grin, guiding him gently aside. He lets you manoeuvre him into place without a word, though you hear him clear his throat a little.

You finally step through the doorway into the ship, peeking back at him. “What were you up to, anyway?” you ask casually, hands on your hips

Normally, Tech would answer any question with straightforward precision, but today... today he falters. “I, ah... was merely seeking... additional reference material. For research purposes.” His voice, usually so confident and clipped, wavers strangely. It’s so unlike him that you tilt your head in suspicion, narrowing your eyes in a playful squint.

“Oh?” you say slowly, intrigued. “What kind of research?”

His mouth opens — and then promptly shuts again. He adjusts his goggles unnecessarily, his hands fidgeting at the edges of his belt. Definitely suspicious.

Your curiosity only grows. “Well, if you need help,” you offer lightly, “I’d be happy to join you. I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs.” But then you realise, “Actually, I don’t want to leave Omega on her own-”

You barely finish speaking when a voice pipes up right behind you, startling you.

“I can look after myself, you know,” Omega says, clearly having been eavesdropping the entire time. She crosses her arms proudly. “I’m not a little kid anymore.”

You and Tech both turn toward her. “Not going to start the ship up and fly away without us, right?” You tease.

“Well I can’t promise that” Omega teases, looking between the two of you. “But I’ll do my best to resist.”

“Alright then,” You nod, allowing her to stay behind but then look to Tech to get his verdict.

“I suppose we will not be long.”

“Great!” Omega chimes, “You two can enjoy your date - uh, I mean…”

You stare at her, wide-eyed and mortified at her slip (if it even was) of her tongue.

Tech’s ears burn under his goggles, shooting her a look that you don’t see. He straightens his posture, clearing his throat.

Soon after giving Omega one last warning not to do anything disastrous on your outing, you fall into step beside Tech as he leads the way off the ship.

He doesn't say much at first and you don't push about why he was oddly quiet. You’re quite content for a moment to simply walk through the warm, open air and the forest ahead looks inviting. And being with Tech was such an added bonus.

“So, what exactly are we doing?” you ask after a short while, glancing over at him. “You never did tell me what kind of research this was.”

He pushes his goggles up his nose, fingers twitching on a small device in his hand. “It is a standard environmental survey,” he says quickly, “Nothing particularly noteworthy.”

You squint at him, reading him like a book. “You’re a terrible liar, Tech.”

“I am not lying,” he says, his tone stiff. “I am merely withholding certain specifics for operational efficiency.”

You bite back a smirk but let it go, following him deeper into the trees.

The forest itself hums with quiet life around you. The soft chirping from unseen creatures and the faint trickle of a nearby stream was tranquil. The trees tower overhead, their bark a deep reddish-brown, had wide canopies of green and gold leaves that flutter gently in the breeze.

If Pabu didn’t exist, you would actually consider having a home here.

After a few more minutes of walking, you watch as Tech slows and veers off the beaten path. He stopped at the edge of a rocky clearing and looked over a bed of wildflowers that had tiny blossoms in vivid colours that sway.

He activates the device in his grasp with a quiet beep and starts scanning the flowers.

You lean against a large boulder nearby, resting your chin on your arms as you watch him work. His brows are knitted in focused concentration, a tiny crease forming above his nose.

Honestly? Adorable.

“You’re really invested in this ‘environmental survey,’ huh?” you tease lightly, smiling.

He doesn’t glance up. Instead, he carefully kneels and inspects a cluster of bright yellow blooms. He selects one, pulls a small pair of pliers from his utility belt, and snips the stem.

“What’s that one?” you ask whilst he holds the flower delicately between his gloved fingers.

He looks up at you, and there's something almost shy in the way he offers the information. “It is a part of the aurelia family, a plant known for its versatile healing properties," he explains. "It is particularly effective in creating salves for minor abrasions, something you once mentioned a preference for, if I recall correctly.”

You blink, caught off-guard by the thoughtfulness that he remembered a conversation you had with him quite a while ago now.

Before you can find the right words, he steps closer and offers the flower to you. “I would like you to look after it,” he says simply, placing it carefully into your hand quite quickly and looking away.

You cradle the delicate bloom as if it were made of glass. “I’ll guard it with my life,” you say with a mock-seriousness, but your heart thumps a little faster all the same.

Tech merely nods, satisfied, and turns to continue walking. You follow behind, hand still clutching the bright flower like it was something far more precious than just a plant. Well, to you it was anyway. You loved flowers.

You walk in easy silence for a while, the forest thickening around you as the path narrows.

You're still cradling the yellow flower carefully in your hand when you notice Tech slow again, his scanner flickering softly. He kneels by another patch of blooms — this time a cluster of small, delicate flowers in a soft shade of your favorite colour. You watch as Tech examines them, but instead of scanning them like before, he hesitates. His hand hovers for a moment before he plucks one gently between his fingers, standing up and turning toward you.

Without a word, he steps close, the flower dangling loosely in his grasp. His expression is unreadable behind his goggles, but there’s something almost... tentative about his posture.

You tilt your head, curious. “What’s that one?” you ask, smiling.

Tech visibly stiffens. His mouth opens, but whatever explanation he had seems to falter halfway through forming. “It does not possess any notable medicinal properties,” he admits, adjusting his grip on the flower. “It is... actually scientifically insignificant.”

You blink at him, confused. “Then why did you want me to hold it?”

For a second you swear you see Tech’s composure crack. He shifts awkwardly, looking anywhere but at you. “I considered it might be useful for... cross-referencing petal structure... for research purposes,” he says, far too quickly and far too technically to the point it sounded weird.

You narrow your eyes in mock suspicion, catching on that there’s definitely more he’s not saying. “Uh-huh. Sure,” you say, voice light but you can’t ignore that your heart beats a little faster. Did he want to give it to you… because he wanted to?

He seems to be silently warring with himself. His fingers twitch like he’s about to hand you the flower after all but at the last second, he stops.

Without another word, Tech then turns and — in a move so uncharacteristically flustered it makes you bite back a laugh — he tosses the little flower into the underbrush as he walks away.

You stare after him, baffled and amused in equal measur. Definitely suspicious.

Tech continues gathering flowers as you both wander through the forest, stopping here and there to snip a stem or examine a petal with meticulous care. You gave up asking about each one after the third or fourth as it became obvious he was just handing them to you without much explanation.

Instead, you quietly let him do it, your arms gradually filling with an array of blossoms: soft yellows, rich blues, gentle lilacs, vivid reds. The bundle was chaotic and beautiful.

After a while, Tech finally straightens and looks around the clearing with a satisfied nod. “This will suffice,” he announces.

You stop beside him, brushing your fingertips over the petals lightly, inhaling the gentle, sweet scent. “You picked a really pretty bunch for your research,” you admit softly, smiling over the bouquet at him.

Tech adjusts his goggles with a slight nervous twitch to the motion. “Yes, well...” he starts, voice a little stiffer than usual. “In truth, I would prefer you to keep them.”

You blink, surprised, lowering the flowers slightly to peer at him more clearly. “Keep them?”

He shifts on his feet, clearly uncomfortable but forcing himself to explain. “Omega mentioned that you appreciated flowers. She also suggested that they were considered a... romantic gesture. More appropriate than, say, a customised multitool.” He clears his throat, rapidly gaining momentum as he continues rambling.

“You wanted to get me flowers?” you interrupt softly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Tech freezes mid-sentence of his tangent. His mouth opens and closes once — then he nods, sharply, as if resigning himself to it. “Yes. That was the intended outcome.”

Your cheeks burn so hot you swear Tech could probably feel it. You hug the messy bouquet a little tighter to your chest, heart thudding so hard it drowns out the hum of the forest around you.

Tech, seemingly unaware of just how much he’s affecting you, blunders on, still trying to justify himself as if he really needed to. “Initially, Omega suggested a handcrafted gadget. However, after observing flora within the holo-romcoms you frequently view, I concluded that a floral gift might have a statistically higher probability of being well-received, despite its lack of practicality—”

You’re barely listening anymore. You’re too busy staring at the ridiculous, wonderful bouquet in your hands, and the man who meticulously gathered every single stem just to give them to you.

“So... there was no research,” you say, your voice catching slightly.

Tech hesitates, then tilts his head slightly, almost sheepish. “No, not exactly,” he admits.

You bite your lip, trying and failing to hide the grin spreading across your face.

Thinking for a split second, you pull a small flower from the messy bundle — a delicate little thing with soft pink petals — and step toward him. Tech watches you with a sort of curious stillness, almost like he’s bracing for whatever strange human interaction he’s about to experience for the first time. A soft tenderness he yearned for you.

Carefully, you tuck the flower into the side of his goggle band, the bright bloom resting just above his ear. You step back to admire your handiwork, smiling. “There,” you say lightly, “now you look even cuter.”

Tech blinks, his hand automatically coming up to touch the flower like he’s not sure it’s really there. He tilts his head, studying you as a small, almost hesitant smile curling at the edges of his mouth.

“That would suggest that you found me ‘cute’ beforehand.” He exhales through a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding.

You meet his gaze, feeling daring. “Maybe,” you say coyly with a shrug, the word slipping out in a playful lilt.

Something shifts between you. Tech’s smile lingers, but it’s gentler now. His hand drops back to his side, but he takes a small step closer, close enough that you can smell the faint, clean scent of him — old leather, warm metal and tools, and something sharper underneath, something just him.

Your heart thuds painfully against your ribs.

Neither of you speaks. The forest seems to go quiet, the golden leaves above stilling like even the world around you doesn’t want to interrupt.

Slowly, carefully, Tech raises his hand, fingertips brushing against your arm like a silent question. You don’t pull away. If anything, you lean closer, your bouquet pressed tight to your chest like it’s the only thing keeping you anchored.

“Would it... be acceptable,” he says, voice almost a whisper now, “if I—?”

You don’t even let him finish. You nod, once, fast and certain.

The distance closes naturally. His gloved hand slides up, cupping your cheek with a reverence that makes your breath hitch. You tilt into him instinctively, and when he finally, finally leans in, his kiss is as careful and deliberate as everything else he does. A featherlight brush of lips at first, testing the waters, before deepening ever so slightly as he feels you melt against him.

It’s sweet, and a little clumsy, and absolutely perfect.

When you finally pull away, you’re both smiling genuine smiles that don’t need words to explain.

The flower you tucked behind his goggles is a little crooked now, and somehow, that just makes it even better.

🫧 Masterlist

Tags: @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot t @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz z @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 7 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tentakelspektakel l @stellarbit @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @the-bad-batch-baroness @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @photogirl894 @lulalovez

#the bad batch #tech #late #tech Tuesday #tech x reader #tbb tech #tbb tech x reader #bad batch tech #tech the bad batch #tech the bad batch x reader #nahoney22 writes #tbb #bad batch

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areyoufuckingcrazy · 2 months ago

Note

Happy Weekend! I was wondering if you could do an angst fic w/ TBB x Fem!Reader where they’re on a mission and the ground crumbles beneath her and she falls and they think she could be dead? Thanks! Xx

Happy Thursday! Sorry for the delay, I hope this is somewhat what you had in mind😊

“Echoes in the Dust”

The Bad Batch x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Falling, presumed death, grief, survivor’s guilt, panic

The ridge was narrow. Too narrow.

You moved with your blaster raised and your jaw set, following closely behind Wrecker as the team pushed forward. The rocky terrain was riddled with ravines, fault lines, and fractured earth—left scarred by years of shelling and seismic bombardments. The mission was supposed to be simple: infiltrate a Separatist holdout and extract data.

It was never simple.

“Movement on the northwest cliff,” you called into your comm. “Looks like clankers repositioning.”

“Copy that,” Echo’s voice crackled. “Tech, I’m sending coordinates to your pad.”

Hunter glanced back at you, just a flick of his head, a silent confirmation. You nodded. I’m good.

You were always good. Until the ground gave out beneath you.

It was subtle at first—just a soft shift under your boots, like loose gravel. But then came the snap. A hollow, wrenching crack that echoed through the canyon like thunder. The rock splintered beneath your feet. You didn’t have time to scream.

Just time to look up—into Hunter’s eyes.

“[Y/N]—!”

You dropped.

The last thing you saw was his outstretched hand, just a second too late.

Then the world became air and stone and darkness.

⸻

Above, everything exploded into chaos.

Hunter hit the ridge on his knees, arms dragging at loose rock, clawing like an animal trying to dig you back out. “No, no, no—”

Echo slid in beside him, scanning with one cybernetic arm extended. “I can’t see her. It’s—kriff—it’s a vertical drop. She went straight down.”

“I should’ve grabbed her!” Wrecker was pacing in wild circles, fists clenched, eyes wet. “I was right in front of her—I should’ve—she was right there!”

“She didn’t even scream,” Echo murmured. “She just… vanished.”

“I’m scanning for vitals,” Tech said, already tapping furiously at his datapad, but his voice was thin. “There’s no signal. No movement. Her comm—either it was destroyed in the fall or… or she’s—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Hunter snapped, voice like a knife.

The wind howled through the crevice she’d fallen into, dragging dust and silence with it.

Crosshair stood several meters back, motionless, his DC-17M dangling loosely in his grip.

“Say it,” Echo growled, glaring at him. “You’ve been quiet this whole time. Just say whatever snide thing you’re thinking so we can all lose it together.”

Crosshair’s eyes flicked up, storm-gray and unreadable.

“She’s dead.”

“Shut your mouth!” Wrecker roared, storming toward him, but Echo shoved himself in between.

“She could be alive,” Echo said fiercely, though his voice cracked. “It’s possible. People survive worse.”

Crosshair didn’t move. “Not from that height.”

“I said shut it!” Wrecker shoved him back, but it was all broken fury—guilt bleeding through his rage. “She was smiling, dammit. Right before. She looked at me and said, ‘We’ll all get out of this,’ and I didn’t even answer her back—!”

“Stop.” Hunter’s voice cut clean through the storm.

He stood now, rigid and furious, his back to the team, staring into the void where you’d fallen.

“She’s alive,” he said.

Tech looked up from his pad slowly. “Statistically—”

“I don’t give a damn about statistics.” His voice was hoarse. “I felt her. She was right here. She’s part of us. She wouldn’t just be… gone.”

His hand trembled slightly. Not from fear. From the weight of it.

He was the one who told you to cover the flank. He was the one who said the ridge was stable enough.

She trusted you, Crosshair had said.

No. She trusted him.

And he’d failed her.

Hunter turned and began strapping a rope to his belt.

“Sergeant?” Tech asked cautiously.

“We’re going down there. All of us. We don’t stop until we find her. I don’t care if we have to tear the planet apart.”

Echo moved first. “I’m with you.”

Wrecker stepped up beside them, his breath hitching. “Me too. Always.”

Even Crosshair nodded, silent again.

As Hunter stood at the edge, ready to descend into the place where you vanished, a single thought thundered in his mind:

She can’t be gone.

Not you.

Not when your laugh was still echoing in his ears. Not when you told him last night, during watch, that you’d be careful. Not when he never got to tell you that he needed you more than he ever let on.

He’d find you.

Or die trying.

⸻

The descent into the ravine was slow, agonizing, and silent.

The team moved as one—Hunter leading with a lantern clipped to his belt, casting narrow beams over jagged rock and twisted earth. Echo and Tech followed with scanners, mapping every crevice. Wrecker moved boulders with his bare hands, gritting his teeth with each one. Crosshair, ever the rear guard, watched from behind, but his silence was sharp, eyes flicking everywhere.

Hunter’s voice echoed through the narrow stone corridor. “Check every ledge. Every outcropping.”

“She could’ve hit a rock shelf and rolled,” Echo said, carefully scanning below. “Or worse…”

“Don’t,” Wrecker said. “Don’t even say it. She’s alive. She has to be.”

They moved deeper into the ravine—until the beam of Hunter’s light caught something.

“Wait,” Tech whispered, grabbing Echo’s arm.

There—thirty feet below them, half-buried under collapsed shale and bloodied stone—was a figure.

Your figure.

You were sprawled on your side, your body twisted unnaturally, one leg crushed beneath a slab of rock. Blood soaked through your jacket. Your head had struck something hard—too hard—and you weren’t moving.

Hunter nearly dropped the lantern.

“[Y/N]—!”

He was down the rest of the way before anyone could stop him, crashing to his knees beside you.

“Don’t move her!” Echo shouted, sliding in behind. “Not yet. Let me check—”

But Hunter’s hands were already trembling as they hovered over you, too afraid to touch. Too afraid that this—this fragile, broken thing—was all that was left.

“She’s breathing,” Echo said. “Shallow. Pulse is—kriff—irregular. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

Wrecker dropped beside them, tears already streaking the dust on his cheeks.

“Is she—? She’s gonna make it, right? Echo?”

“She’s unconscious,” Echo said quietly. “And we need to get her out now.”

“Spinal trauma is possible,” Tech added, eyes locked on his scanner. “Multiple fractures. Her femur is broken—bleeding into the tissue. Concussion. Rib damage. Internal bleeding likely.”

Crosshair didn’t come any closer. He stood just at the edge of the light, staring down at you with an unreadable expression.

“You said she was dead,” Wrecker growled, voice shaking.

Crosshair didn’t respond.

Because he knew now—death would’ve been kinder than this.

The med evac was chaotic.

Hunter carried you the entire climb back—refused to let anyone else even try. He held you close to his chest like something fragile, as if you’d fall again if he let go. Your blood had soaked through his armor by the time they reached the surface.

Back on the Marauder, the team worked together in silent urgency. Wrecker helped secure you to the gurney. Echo and Tech patched what they could. Crosshair kept watch, pacing like a trapped animal.

And Hunter… he sat beside you.

His hands were covered in your blood.

“I should’ve caught you,” he whispered.

No one argued. No one corrected him.

Because part of them believed it too.

You twitched in your sleep once—just a small movement, a flicker of pain across your brow—and Hunter nearly leapt out of his seat.

“She moved!” he barked.

“She’s still unconscious,” Tech reminded. “That doesn’t guarantee cognition. The swelling in her brain—”

“I don’t care what the scans say,” Hunter growled. “She’s fighting.”

He reached down and brushed a blood-matted strand of hair from your face.

“You hear me?” he whispered, voice cracking. “You hold on. You fight like you always do. You’re not going to leave us like this.”

Wrecker sat on the floor beside the cot, staring at your hand dangling off the edge.

“You’re not allowed to die, okay?” he said, softly, almost childlike. “You still owe me a rematch.”

Echo leaned against the wall, arms crossed, jaw clenched tight. “She shouldn’t have been the one to fall. It should’ve been—”

“Don’t,” Tech said, just as quiet. “We all blame ourselves. That’s not useful now.”

Only Crosshair said nothing.

But later—when the others had finally dozed off in shifts, and the med droid was running scans—he sat beside you alone.

“Idiots, all of them,” he muttered. “They think they lost you. I know better.”

He rested his hand beside yours.

“You’re not dead. You’re just too damn stubborn.”

There was a pause.

“…So come back. Or I’ll never forgive you.”

You didn’t wake up that night. Or the next.

But your vitals held.

You were still fighting.

And the squad—your family—never left your side.

⸻

It started with a sound.

A weak, choked wheeze from the medbay.

Wrecker heard it first—he’d been sitting on the floor beside your cot for the past hour, humming under his breath and telling you stories like he had every day since they pulled you from the ravine.

But when he heard your breathing stutter—heard that awful, wet gasp—he was on his feet in an instant.

“Tech!”

Footsteps thundered in from the cockpit.

Tech was there in seconds, datapad in one hand, expression already shifting from calculation to panic.

“Vitals are dropping. Pulse erratic. Respiratory distress—dammit—her lung may have collapsed.”

The med droid whirred a warning in binary, and Tech shoved it aside, already working to stabilize you. Wrecker stood frozen, fists clenched at his sides, helpless as machines blared and blood began soaking through your bandages again.

“She was getting better,” Wrecker whispered. “She was breathing normal yesterday. You said she was stabilizing!”

“I said her vitals were holding,” Tech snapped, voice tight and uncharacteristically sharp. “I also said we didn’t know the full extent of internal damage yet. The concussion is worsening. There’s pressure building against her brainstem. Her body is going into systemic shock.”

“Then fix it!” Wrecker’s voice cracked. “You fix everything! Please—”

Tech’s hands moved fast, too fast—grabbing gauze, recalibrating IV drips, re-administering stimulants. But beneath the precision was fear. A gnawing, brittle kind of fear that made his fingers shake.

“I’m trying,” Tech said, barely above a whisper now. “I’m trying, Wrecker.”

Your body jerked suddenly—just a twitch, but it sent a ripple of panic through them both.

Tech cursed under his breath. “She needs proper medical facilities. A bacta tank. A neuro-regeneration suite. This ship is not equipped to handle this kind of trauma long-term.”

“So what, we just wait and watch her die?” Wrecker whispered.

“No!” Tech snapped, louder this time. “We don’t let her die.”

He slammed his fist down on the console—just once—but the sound echoed like a gunshot through the Marauder. Wrecker flinched. Tech never lost control. Never raised his voice. Never made a sound unless it meant something.

And now, he looked like he was about to break.

“I’ve calculated a thousand outcomes,” Tech murmured, softer now. “And every variable keeps changing. Her body is unpredictable. She’s unstable. But she’s also resilient. She’s survived things that should’ve killed her ten times over.”

He looked up then, eyes glassy behind his goggles.

“But if we don’t find a way to get her real care—soon—we will lose her.”

Wrecker turned away, one massive hand covering his face. He’d never felt so useless. Not when they’d crashed on Ordo. Not when they’d been stranded on Ryloth. Never like this.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said. “I’m strong. I can carry her. Fight for her. But I can’t fix her, Tech. I can’t even hold her without hurting her worse.”

Tech approached quietly, placing a hand on Wrecker’s shoulder—a rare gesture.

“You are helping,” he said. “You’re keeping her tethered. She needs that. She needs us.”

The med console beeped—soft, steady. A pause.

Then a spike.

Her heart rate surged. Your head tilted slightly to the side. Blood trickled from your nose. Another alarm.

“No, no, no—stay with us,” Tech muttered, already grabbing the stabilizer. “Don’t go. Not yet.”

Wrecker dropped to his knees beside you, voice trembling.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he whispered. “You don’t get to leave like this. You didn’t even finish your story about the time you pantsed Crosshair in front of the general. Remember that?”

He sniffed, brushing a strand of hair from your sweat-slicked face. “You said you’d tell me how you pulled it off without getting court-martialed. Said you’d sing me that dumb lullaby you like. Said you’d stay.”

Your fingers twitched.

A tiny movement. Almost nothing.

But Wrecker gasped.

“She moved!”

Tech’s head snapped up. “What?”

“She moved! Her hand—right here—she twitched.”

Tech scanned you again. “Neurological activity spiked. Minimal, but—”

You let out a weak, pained breath.

Another wheeze. Then a garbled sound—almost like a word, trapped somewhere deep in your throat.

“…H-Hun…ter…”

Both men froze.

Tears filled Wrecker’s eyes.

“She said his name…”

“She’s still in there,” Tech whispered, blinking quickly. “Cognitive reflexes are initiating. That’s… that’s something.”

He turned to Wrecker, and for once, there was nothing cold or clinical in his tone.

“There’s still time.”

They kept watch through the night. Neither slept.

Wrecker read to you from the old datapad you always teased him for hoarding.

Tech adjusted your vitals every hour, even when nothing had changed, just to keep his hands busy.

And in the silence between beeping monitors and heavy breaths, they both spoke to you—about nothing, about everything.

Wrecker told you about the time he and you almost got arrested on Corellia for stealing bad caf. How your laugh had made him feel human again.

Tech told you the probability of your survival was now sitting at 18.6%, up from 9%. And that statistically, if anyone could beat the odds, it was you.

Wrecker chuckled through his tears. “Told you, didn’t I? Too stubborn to die.”

Tech looked down at your still hand, then whispered—just once—“Please… don’t.”

⸻

The Marauder was silent.

Tech had finally collapsed from exhaustion in the co-pilot seat, goggles askew, still clutching the datapad with your vitals. Wrecker was curled on the floor next to your bed, snoring lightly with one hand near yours. Crosshair sat with his back to the far wall, arms crossed, eyes closed—but not asleep.

And Echo stayed awake.

He always did.

He was seated at your bedside, one cybernetic hand gently resting on the edge of the cot. The hum of the ship’s systems filled the space between the heart monitor’s steady rhythm. Your breathing—still shallow, but no longer ragged—was the only music Echo needed.

He hadn’t moved for hours.

You’d gotten worse. Then better. Then worse again. And through all of it, he’d held on. Let the others break. Let them rage. He had to be the one who didn’t fall apart.

But now, as he sat alone in the flickering light, his thumb brushed your bandaged hand—and he whispered, “You can’t keep scaring us like this.”

Your lips moved.

Barely.

He straightened. “Hey…?”

Your fingers twitched under his hand.

Your head shifted slightly on the pillow, a soft whimper escaping your throat. Your eyelashes fluttered—slow, disoriented, like your mind hadn’t caught up to your body.

“Hey.” Echo leaned closer, voice trembling now. “Come on… come on, mesh’la. You’re safe.”

Your eyes opened.

Just a sliver at first. Squinting into the low light.

“…Echo…?”

It was a rasp, a whisper, but it was real.

Echo’s mouth fell open.

And for the first time since the fall—since the screaming, the blood, the race against time—his composure cracked.

You blinked slowly, pain visible behind your glazed eyes. “W-Where…?”

“Still on the Marauder. We haven’t moved. We couldn’t.” His voice was low and hoarse. “You weren’t stable enough.”

Your brow furrowed faintly. “Hurts.”

“I know.” He gently adjusted your oxygen mask, smoothing your hair back. “You took a hell of a fall.”

You tried to shift, but your body betrayed you—wracked with weakness, ribs aching, limbs sluggish.

Echo placed a firm hand on your shoulder. “Don’t move yet. Please. Just stay still.”

You obeyed—too tired to fight it.

“I thought…” You coughed, eyes fluttering. “Thought I heard Wrecker crying.”

Echo actually smiled, though his eyes were wet. “Yeah. That happened.”

You let out the faintest exhale—almost a laugh. “He’s a big softie.”

“Only for you,” Echo whispered, squeezing your hand carefully. “You scared him half to death.”

There was a long pause.

You looked up at him, brow knitting again.

“…You thought I was gone, didn’t you?”

Echo’s throat tightened. “We all did.”

“But you stayed.”

“Of course I stayed.”

Your gaze lingered on him. He looked exhausted. Hollowed out. His prosthetic arm twitched like he’d been clenching it too long.

“You haven’t slept.”

He laughed quietly—bitter and warm all at once. “Didn’t want to miss this.”

Another silence.

And then, so faint it barely reached him, you whispered—

“…I’m sorry.”

Echo stared at you, stunned.

“For what?” he breathed.

“For falling. For worrying you. For being weak.”

His expression broke. “No.”

He leaned in, voice rough. “Don’t ever say that. You didn’t fall because you were weak. You fell because the ground gave out. Because war is cruel. Because life isn’t fair.”

He blinked back tears. “But you lived. And that means more than anything.”

Your vision blurred—not from injury this time, but from the emotion in his voice.

He looked at you like you were the most important thing in the galaxy.

“I thought I lost you,” he said. “And I wasn’t ready.”

You let your eyes close again, overwhelmed by exhaustion—but you smiled softly through cracked lips.

“I’m here.”

He pressed his forehead gently to your hand, exhaling a shaky breath.

“You’re here.”

When the others returned—when Hunter stumbled in and dropped to his knees, when Wrecker cried again, when Crosshair stood frozen for a full minute, just staring—you were already asleep.

But Echo met Hunter’s gaze.

And nodded.

“She woke up.”

And for the first time in days, the silence didn’t feel so heavy.

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revelboo · 5 months ago

Note

REVELLLLLLLL DROP ANOTHER MEGATRONUS FIC AND MY LIFE IS YOURRRRSSSSSS

honestly I’m such a big fan of your writing I’ve searched and searched for megatronus fics for so long and I have never found one but I checked your acc and I’ve never been so happy before like I’m addicted to your writing a lot of the time I look for transformers fanfics but I’ve never really liked them as much as yours and you also inspired me to start collecting transformers figures so I’m gonna start sooner or later cause things are expensive these days sadly 😔🤞🏽 but I don’t wanna start yapping so I’m gonna end it off here by revel have a beautiful weekend and week😋

I’m glad you like my nonsense! The figures are pretty fun to collect

Give It Up Pt 3

Megatronus Prime x Reader

• Venting in frustration when you swat his servos, chirping angrily, he just needs to see the little display on your arm long enough to figure out if he can pull your language from it. Something you’re absolutely not having. Studying your little suit more closely, he frowns. Maybe you’re breathing some exotic gas and need the suit to survive? “I don’t need your entire suit,” he says, holding a palm over his own arm and miming flipping up an invisible screen like you just did . Wishes he could get a better look at you, because your features are just an indistinct shadow through the tinted helmet. Staring up at him, you lay your own palm on your display and chirp softly. “On my honor, I’ll return your tech to you.”

• Grumbling, his awful language, he repeats the gesture. Why does he want your display? While you can detach it, you’re not sure you should. Though you doubt the super advanced living robot is the least bit interested in your tech. It’s probably the equivalent of a DOS computer to you. Or maybe a telegram. He’s defiantly not stealing secrets from it. And he’s not hurt you so far. Shook you until you nearly hurled, but you don’t think he was trying to harm you. If you’re trapped who knows where, you’re going to need someone to trust. You really hope that’s him.

• Chirping unhappily, you mess with the display until it detaches and hold the tiny thing out. And it’s such a shock that you’re willing to trust him. Extending a servo, he waits while you look at the display then at him before laying it on his servo. “Thank you, little one.” Lifting it, he squints at the tiny thing and shifts it to his datapad to try to sync the primitive technology. “You’re being very brave.”

• You really hope your GPS isn’t in the display. Really wish you’d paid more attention when the tech guys were explaining the minutiae of the suits instead of being terrified of what you were going to find on the other side of the portal. Giant, alien robots definitely hadn’t been on your bingo card, though. What can he even get off the thing, really? Nothing dangerous. Probably? Like coordinates to your world? “Please don’t be an evil, giant robot.”

• Waiting for the datapad to compile and create a language file for him, he studies you. Wonders what organics eat and how exactly you’d wound up on Cybertron. A peaceful explorer? You don’t seem to have any weapons. Can’t understand the language. And you’re so tiny as to be helpless. Probably not a warring species. Certainly don’t look at all intimidating in your puffy little suit. Moving closer, you rock up on tiptoe to try and see his datapad and chirp at him. Pointing with a finger and you’re just so adorable. “I’m going to give it back,” he reassures you, smiling behind his mask. Definitely not a warring species. You’re much too cute to be dangerous.

#transformers x reader #megatronus prime x reader #megatronus

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vimse · 3 months ago

Text

The nsfw part was so spicy and hot and absolutely delicious but honestly this was the part that made me melt the most 🧡:

Tech’s lips quirked into a very, very small smile — one that was devastating in its subtlety.

Code of affection

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader

Tags/Warnings: Friends (?) to lovers, nsfw, minors dni, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, spicy, happy ending, aftercare.

It’s a short (and spicy) story of you and Tech, because i can’t sleep (yes, i know, i’m a freak). Soo yeah, enjoy.

Shorty, the story is Tech is a yapper, and you love looking at him or listening to him, but you start daydreaming of him, and he notice it then things get spicy. GOOD ENDING? AFTERCARE!!!!

Tech was explaining something. Again.

You sat across from him in the Marauder’s small common area, head tilted lazily to the side, chin resting on your palm. His voice was a familiar melody: quick, precise, filled with big words and endless streams of knowledge about mechanics, the ship’s nav systems, hyperspace routes — you weren’t sure anymore. You’d tuned out about three paragraphs ago.

Because Force, he was so…gorgeous. His eyes, his face, his skin. It was not hot or sexy. It was pretty.

You could stare at him forever. And honestly, you often did.

The sound of Tech’s voice, quick and certain, was one of your favorite things in the galaxy. He could yap on about hyperdrives, planetary ecosystems, ship repairs—and you’d sit there, completely enchanted, chin resting on your hand, eyes tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his lips moved when he talked so fast he barely breathed.

“And if we adjust our course by approximately two degrees, we’ll avoid the ion storm entirely,” he said, hands flying over the console with practiced ease, eyes glowing behind his goggles. “Which, statistically speaking, raises our chances of survival by a factor of—

Tech paused mid-sentence, adjusting his goggles absentmindedly. His gaze sharpened when he noticed your faraway smile — the one you wore when your mind was definitely not following the lecture.

“Am I boring you?” he asked, a tiny crease forming between his brows.

You jolted upright, feeling your cheeks heat up. “No! No, no — you’re not boring at all, Tech! I was just…thinking.”

His head tilted. Curious. Patient. He was always so patient with you.

“Oh?” he said mildly. “Thinking about what? If you were listening, you should have no trouble repeating the last point I made.”

You froze. Your brain scrambled. What had he even been talking about? Hyperspace trajectories? Ship engines? Astrogation mapping? You threw out the first thing that came to mind:

“Uh…that the, um…plasma conduits need recalibrating because of…residual ion…build-up?”

There was a beat of silence.

And then, before you could stop yourself, your mouth blurted the thought you’d actually been having:

“It’s really hot in here….I am hot…I mean you are! I-what?” I slam my hand over my mouth and blush in embarassment.

The words hung in the air, heavy and electric.

Tech blinked slowly behind his goggles. His mouth opened slightly — not in offense, but pure surprise, like he’d just been slapped with a datapad.

You immediately started explaining yourself. “Oh stars, I didn’t mean— I mean, I did! You are pretty! I just—”

Tech’s lips quirked into a very, very small smile — one that was devastating in its subtlety.

“Pretty?” he echoed, voice dipping lower.

I just look at him, blushing in embarassment.

He set down the datapad he was holding with a thunk on the table, rising from his seat with that precise, controlled grace of his. You swallowed hard as he closed the distance between you in two slow steps.

“You find me aesthetically pleasing,” he said, more statement than question. His gloved fingers tilted your chin up, forcing your dazed eyes to meet his.

“Maybe-“ you said, but Tech stopped you mid sentence.

“Do you?” He smirks.

You barely managed a breathless “Yes,” before Tech leaned down and kissed you — precise at first, like he was gathering data, then rougher when you whimpered against his mouth.

And Maker, Tech was good at this.

It shouldn’t have surprised you. He excelled at everything he put his mind to — fighting, flying, fixing. Why not kissing too?

But it still left you breathless, overwhelmed, clutching at the front of his armor as he pressed you back against the wall, mouth devouring yours like you were a problem he was desperate to solve.

You gasped as he trailed kisses down your jaw, slow and calculated, his hands sliding to your waist, thumbs pressing bruising circles into your hips.

His mouth brushed over your skin like a question. Testing. Studying.

You shivered, clutching at the collar of his armor as he kissed a slow, deliberate path along your jaw, your neck, the delicate spot beneath your ear.

“You are remarkably receptive to tactile stimulation,” Tech muttered against your skin, voice husky, curious.

You let out a breathy laugh, tilting your head to give him better access. “Is that…your way of saying you like kissing me?”

“I adore kissing you,” he corrected, very seriously, before sealing his mouth over your neck and sucking.

Your knees buckled. Tech caught you instantly — one arm looping securely around your waist as he pressed you tighter against the wall. His hands, so steady when fixing blasters and slicing into systems, trembled just slightly now where they gripped you.

He pulled back just enough to look at you — really look at you — eyes sharp behind the goggles, lips flushed and swollen.

“I hypothesize,” he said, voice low and deliberate, “that I could spend hours…experimenting on what precise touches elicit the strongest responses.”

You whimpered at the idea, and he smirked — tiny, smug, dangerous.

“Would you permit me to test that theory, Mesh’la?”

“Please,” you gasped.

That was all he needed.

Tech kissed you again — harder now, hungrier. His gloves slid under the hem of your shirt, fingers splaying over your skin, mapping every curve like you were his own private star chart. His touch was firm but reverent, like he couldn’t decide whether to worship you or completely devour you.

Your hands fumbled with the clasps of his armor, desperate to feel more of him. He helped, stripping away the layers with quick, efficient motions — like dismantling a weapon — until you could finally run your hands over the firm lines of his body.

Lean, strong, carved from years of discipline and action. You couldn’t help the awe in your voice:

“You’re so.” You moan.

He paused, eyes flickering with something hotter than affection — something closer to pure need.

“Your appreciation is…” He sucked in a sharp breath as your hands roamed his torso, your nails scraping lightly down his sides. “…stimulating.”

You smiled wickedly, dragging your nails a little harder — earning a low, raw sound from him that made your stomach twist with desire.

“Stimulating, huh?” you teased, emboldened.

“In ways I am…having difficulty quantifying,” he admitted, and before you could laugh, he lifted you — effortlessly — pressing you back against the wall again, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.

His mouth was everywhere: jaw, collarbone, the tops of your breasts, moving lower, lower. Every kiss was methodical, but getting messier, hungrier, as he lost more and more of that perfect control.

Your heart nearly burst at the sound of it — the claim in his voice.

And then he showed you exactly how serious he was.

He dragged you to the floor in a flurry of kisses and clumsy urgency — Tech, clumsy — his need finally outweighing his precision. He kissed you like a man starved, hands everywhere at once, leaving no inch of you unexplored.

Every touch, every kiss, every desperate grind of his hips against yours — it all felt like a star going supernova inside you.

Tech’s kisses trailed from your collarbone down to the delicate swell of your waist, each one calculated and tender yet bursting with an intensity he could hardly contain. His gloved fingertips charted the intricate topography of your skin—a practiced survey that was both clinical and deeply admiring. Every soft murmur and heated whisper was an exploration, a hypothesis he was determined to test.

“Your are absolutely… fascinating,” he breathed, voice low and breathless, as his lips followed the gentle curve of your shoulder. The measured cadence of his language contrasted perfectly with the desperate hunger behind his eyes.

You arched into his ministrations, breathing in his musky scent as his hands roamed with both curiosity and unbridled need.

Without further ado, he began a systematic exploration—each kiss, each caress, every calculated movement sending data straight to the core of your desire. His mouth became a relentless interrogator of your senses, alternating between slow, teasing strokes and unexpected, fervent bursts of passion that drew soft, continuous moans from your lips.

“You said it’s hot in here?” he asks simply. When you nod, he smirks. “Shall we take some…layers off then?”

A few seconds later, the clothes were already on the ground. His steady hands and clear, determined focus left little to chance. He studied your reactions, adjusting his touches with the care of a meticulous scientist and the passion of a lover who had discovered something new with each sensation.

He lays you down, but doesn’t stop kissing you. He climbs on the top of you, and presses a soft kiss on your forehead.

He goes lower, and he trails his fingers along your inner thighs, his touch feather light and teasing. Slowly and gently, he spreads your legs wider, exposing your private part. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your clit, making your jump slightly. His tongue replaces his lips, licking a slow, deliberate path from your entrance to your clit. He circles the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue, feeling it swell under his touch. He sucks it into his mouth, his fingers spreading your legs wider, to give him better acces. He curls two fingers inside you, finding that spot that makes you whimper and buck your hips. He hooks his fingers upwards, massaging that spot rhythmically as he sucks hard on your swollen bud. He can feel you tensing, your inner walls fluttering around his fingers. He adds a third finger, stretching you further as he continues his relentless assault on your clit. He can feel your orgasm building, your body trembling and your breaths coming in short gasps. He suddently pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his tongue, pushing it deep inside you. You moan up at the sudden action. Feeling your impending orgasm, he doubles his efforts. His fingers replace his tongue, plunging deep and curling upwards to hit that irresistible spot. Simultaneously, his mouth latches onto your clit, sucking with intense preassure while flicking the tip of his tongue rapidly over the sensitive bud. You are so oversimulated, you had no clue he is…good in this…like really good.

He feels your body convulsing with pleasure, and he knows your still riding the waves of your orgasm. He slowly pulls his fingers out, giving your clit one last gentle suck before lifting his head.

Your legs fall limply off his shoulders as you try to catch your breath. He watches your body, seeing your breasts rise and fall rapidly with your shallow breaths.

He kisses you, softly, deeply, knowing you might need a moment. He pulls back slightly, checking your face for any sight of discomfort. Finding none, he smiles softly and whispers “Okay?”. You nod, biting your lip shyly.

His hands trail down your sides, making you shiver. He positions himself between your legs again. “You sure you’re ready?” He asks in a soft voice.

As you nod, he slowly pushes the head of his cock inside you. He watches your face intently, making sure you’re okay. He sees no sign of discomfort on your face, only a look of pleasure. He pushes in further, his thick lenght filling you up completely. He pauses, letting you adjust his size. He leans down to kiss you deeply as he begins to move his hips slowly.

He starts with slow, deliberate thrusts, allowing you to feel every inch of him sliding in and out. His eyes darken with desire as he hears your moans. He grips your hips tightly and starts thrusting harder. He leans over you, his muscular body caging you as he drives into you with increasing force.

His pelvis grinds against your clit with each thrust, the pleasure almost overwhelming. He adjusts his angle, hitting the deepest part of you that makes you see stars. You scream from pleasure, and he kisses you. His movements become more erratic as he feels his own release approaching. He buries his face in your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin. With a final, powerful thrust, he comes, his seed filling you up.

He presses a gentle kiss on your forehead, and pulls out of you.

You laid there together, the air thick with the sweet aftershocks of what you had shared. Tech’s arm was wrapped securely around you, his body pressed close, as if anchoring you to reality after the dizzying heights you had just reached.

He didn’t say much at first—he just held you, his fingers absentmindedly tracing slow, almost methodical patterns along the bare curve of your spine. His other hand lightly cradled the back of your head, ensuring you stayed tucked perfectly against his chest. You could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, a grounding rhythm that made your own breathing start to slow.

“You’re trembling,” Tech observed, his voice still low and gentle, a subtle roughness lingering from before. He tilted his head down to peer at you through his goggles—still perfectly in place, though his hair was deliciously disheveled. His hand smoothed along your back, almost as if he was trying to catalog every inch of you through careful touch.

“I’m not cold,” you whispered, a little shy, cheeks burning.

“I know,” Tech said simply, drawing a blanket up over both of you in one efficient movement anyway. “It’s a physiological response. Normal after heightened physical exertion and emotional connection.”

Despite the clinical explanation, the way he spoke was soft. He wasn’t analyzing you to create distance—he was doing it because it was how he cared.

You smiled tiredly, reaching up to push a strand of hair off his forehead. “You’re really good…You know that?” you mumbled, still a little dazed.

Tech blinked at you behind his goggles, his brows lifting ever so slightly, but them he smiles. His thumb brushed your cheekbone tenderly, voice going even softer, almost reverent. “I must admit, hearing it from you induces a rather… pleasant feeling.”

He kissed your forehead—a precise, almost formal gesture, but when his lips lingered, you could feel how much he meant it.

“Does anything hurt?” he asked after a moment, scanning you with sharp, concerned eyes. His fingers moved carefully now, checking along your sides, your thighs, your arms. His touch was featherlight but thorough. “I… may have been less restrained than I intended.”

“No,” you reassured quickly, turning your head to kiss his wrist where it hovered. “I feel perfect. Better than perfect.”

Tech gave a soft hum at that—a sound you didn’t hear often, but one that made your chest bloom with warmth. He shifted so he could lay you more securely against him, almost wrapping himself around you like a shield. One hand slipped into your hair, massaging your scalp with the same careful precision he used for everything.

“Good,” he murmured, seeming almost relieved. He paused, then added with a rare, earnest gentleness, “You are… extremely important to me. I trust you understand that.”

Your heart squeezed painfully sweet at the words. You tilted your head back to look at him. “I know, Tech,” you whispered. “I feel the same. More than same.”

He smiled—small, rare, and absolutely real. He leaned down to kiss you again, not urgent now, just lingering, slow, cherishing you. His fingers threaded with yours between your bodies, holding you together as if he’d never let go.

Under the covers, warm and wrapped up with him, you realized that with Tech, aftercare wasn’t just about checking if you were alright. It was about making sure you knew you were treasured.

And he made sure you knew—with every slow stroke of his fingers through your hair, every soft kiss to your temple, and every whispered word breathed against your skin.

You’re loved.

You weren’t sure how much time passed with you tucked against Tech’s chest, listening to his breathing, his heart beating steady and sure. His fingers never stopped moving—stroking your hair, tracing the shape of your shoulder, drawing mindless patterns on your back as if memorizing the feeling of you beneath his touch.

Little by little, the adrenaline ebbed away, replaced by a warm, heavy drowsiness that clung to both of you.

Tech shifted a little, tilting his head so he could look down at you properly. His goggles reflected the low light, but you could feel his eyes studying you—the gentle, careful way he always did when something mattered to him.

You are fatigued,” he said softly, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint, tender smile.

“Mhm,” you hummed sleepily, nuzzling closer into the crook of his neck. His scent—clean, warm, just a hint of engine grease and soap—filled your senses, and you never wanted to move again.

Without another word, Tech adjusted the blanket more securely over both of you. His arms wrapped tighter around you, careful not to crush you but firm enough that you felt utterly safe. He shifted again, pulling you closer against his side, until your bodies fit together like two halves of a puzzle.

You felt his hand tangle lightly in your hair, fingers rubbing slow, soothing circles against your scalp. It was such a simple thing—but it sent waves of comfort through your body, relaxing muscles you hadn’t even realized were tense.

You mumbled something incoherent against his skin. You didn’t even know what you were trying to say—but Tech gave a small chuckle, low and rare and so full of affection it made your heart ache.

“You do not have to speak,” he said gently, almost amused. “Sleep, cyar’ika.”

You shifted enough to kiss the crook of his neck—soft, lingering—then let your eyes finally flutter shut. Tech kept stroking your hair, his breathing deep and steady beneath your ear, anchoring you.

Just before sleep claimed you completely, you heard him murmur, voice almost inaudible, but thick with something deeper than words:

“I will always be here.”

Safe in his arms, wrapped in warmth, love, and the soft, steady presence that was Tech, you finally drifted into sleep.

And for the first time in a long while, you dreamed of nothing but peace.

#your writing style??? I want to eat it #tech’s dialogue was immaculate #so was little immersive and personal details like tech feeling like he was hit with a datapad #figuratively #it’s so good #I love it #good shit 👌#x reader #tbb tech fic #fave

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stellarbit · 1 year ago

Text

Shifting Loyalties

No warnings. 2.3k words

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: nada

Pairings: SFW The Batch x fem!reader

Summary: You're a dropout Jedi who left with Echo to join the Bad Batch. You and The Batch are assigned to work with the 501st. The Batch get a bit spicy about how friendly you are with the regs.

NSFW Edition

Inspired by physical touch by @queenariesofnarnia :') it's perfect

The Marauder's landing ramp wasn't halfway extended, and your foot tapped with anticipation. Spotting the 501st squadron as you descended, they stood in a group, not in formation, eagerly awaiting your arrival. Working with the Bad Batch was a thrill, but you couldn't deny missing your first squad.

When Echo departed, Hunter extended you the same offer to join the Bad Batch. As a Jedi dropout, you no longer belonged on Coruscant or in the Order. Your path diverged, but that didn't mean you didn't occasionally yearn for your old teammates.

Before it was fully safe to exit, you hurled yourself out of the ship, dashing toward the awaiting clones. The Batch were momentarily stunned; even Tech tore his eyes away from his datapad at your sudden outburst.

"Shorty!" Fives exclaimed as you barrelled into his arms, spinning you around before settling you among your old squad.

"Shorty?" Crosshair sneered, visibly annoyed by what he was seeing. You darted between the regs, embracing each one, sometimes two at a time.

You meshed well with the Batch, but they weren't the touchy-feely type. Consequently, you lacked the courage to breach physical boundaries, especially considering how often you seemed to get under their skin. After your fallout with the Order, you couldn't risk facing any more rejection.

As the Batch followed after you, Wrecker swiveled his head toward his brothers, clearly confused. "Wha- what's going on?" He scratched his head, gesturing in your direction. "What's all that about?" He referred to your playful antics with the group of regs, laughing and roughhousing like a child.

You weren't cold toward them; in fact, you engaged in comfortable teasing. However, you maintained a professional distance, refraining from physical contact, let alone running into their arms.

Echo shrugged, a smile playing on his lips as he reminisced about his former life. "She's just saying hi," he explained. "She served with the 501st for a long time, even before I was taken to Skako Minor." Nostalgia washed over him at the sight of you standing with his 501st brothers - just like old times.

Hunter blinked in astonishment. "That's normal for her?" He had never witnessed you so carefree and jovial before.

Tech tucked his datapad away, adjusting his goggles as he observed the scene. "By their reactions, this doesn't seem abnormal for her. Why this is the first time we're witnessing it, I'm uncertain." He turned to Echo. "Have you seen this behavior before?"

"Sure, but you're all overthinking it," Echo replied, realizing the tension building among his brothers. "She's just comfortable with them." He regretted the last sentence immediately, sensing their egos regarding regular clones turning this joyful reunion into an unspoken competition.

"If she's so comfortable with them," Crosshair spat, "Maybe she should go back to her precious regs." It was exactly the response Echo feared.

The group watched as you responded to Jesse's teasing with a flirtatious elbow, then stumbled slightly into Rex, who steadied you with a hand on your shoulder.

"It's good to see you. Keeping Echo out of trouble?" Rex smiled down at you, then glanced at Echo standing among the Batch. His smile faded upon noticing Clone Force 99 in various stages of glowering. He patted your shoulder. "Uh… why don't you find General Skywalker while I brief the rest of your squad?"

Without a glance back at the Batch, you followed the order. Anakin briefed you on the mission before easing into conversation. "How are you holding up?" He leaned against a crate of supplies.

"It was hard at first, but I feel…" You paused, feeling a warmth spreading over your chest, grateful it rarely reached your cheeks. "At home with the Batch." You couldn't suppress the smile the thought of the Batch brought you. They made your life exciting, and you felt safe fighting alongside them.

Anakin hadn't missed the looks Clone Force 99 threw your way, especially the nastier ones aimed at the clones you hugged. "I'm glad to hear that, Short Stuff." When Hunter and Wrecker glanced over at the two of you with something like disdain, Anakin smirked. Oh, this is too easy. He leaned down just enough so that your face eclipsed his, just out of sight of the Batchers. "Though, it looks like your new crew isn't too happy with you."

You jerked back, incredulous. "Excuse me?" By the time you whipped around, the Batch were already to the Marauder. Everything seemed normal. You shoved Anakin back. "Kriff off, Skywalker."

Anakin raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Anyway, it looks like it's time for you to rejoin your squad. Good luck."

"Pfft, good luck?" You pulled a face and cracked your neck. "I don't need luck on missions." You may have missed the Jedi General, but you did not miss his arrogant humor.

Anakin smirked as you headed back out and out of earshot. "It wasn't for the mission."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Inside the ship, the atmosphere shifted when you returned. Hunter, Wrecker, Crosshair, Tech, and Echo were scattered about on various tasks, their sudden silence and exchanged glances going unnoticed by you as you busied yourself with pulling out sleeping supplies. There was no way you were missing a chance to sleep off the ship.

Sat cleaning his gun, Crosshair’s eyes bore into your back. It didn’t take Hunter’s senses for you to feel his glare. Still packing, you said over your shoulder, “What is it, Crosshair?”

“Oh, nothing,” Crosshair sneered, leaning forward. “Just didn’t realize you missed your regs so much.”

“And why wouldn’t I miss them?” You snorted, not realizing that earned you an even nastier look from the white-haired clone. “Some people have friends, Crosshair. What’s wrong with that?”

Raising an eyebrow, you turned to face him, a smirk playing on your lips. "And what's wrong with that? Some of us actually have friends, you know."

Tech, engrossed in a control panel, interjected, "He's not questioning your friendships. He's just pointing out the obvious preference you seem to have for your old squadmates."

Your hands stilled, and you turned to face them, sensing an underlying tension in the air. "What's going on here?"

Wrecker shuffled awkwardly, his expression troubled. "We just thought you were happier with us."

"I am happy!" you exclaimed. "But it's natural to be excited to see old friends, isn't it?"

When Wrecker’s defeated look didn’t change you looked to Hunter, the sensible brother, for relief. Instead, he had his arms crossed and eyes fixed away from you.

They can’t be serious. You started to turn to Echo when Crosshair abruptly got up, setting his gun aside, and loomed over you within a second.

“Don’t look at Echo to save you,” Crosshair growled, his voice low and menacing. "You seem a little too cozy with them for just 'old friends.'" You tried to step away, but found yourself backed against the counter behind you.

“Cross,” Hunter warned, but his brother didn’t heed the caution, slamming a hand on the shelf a few inches from your face.

The close proximity allowed you to catch Crosshair's scent—gun oil and mint—a combination you'd never been so close to before. It left you breathless, barely able to formulate a response. Crosshair raked his eyes over you as he idly lolled a toothpick around his mouth. He leaned in close. “Why so shy now, Shorty?” he taunted, his voice dropping even lower.

Despite the shiver you felt at the nickname rolling off Crosshair’s tongue, ignored the jibe. “What’s your problem with ‘Shorty’?” you bit back, unwilling to back down.

Tech swiftly wedged himself between you and Crosshair, his tone firm but diplomatic. "Let's not act like children here." Placing a hand on your chest and the other on Crosshair's shoulder, he continued, "Although 'Shorty' might not be the most accurate nickname. If you prefer something else-"

His voice trailed off as he noticed the flush creeping up your chest and spreading to your cheeks and ears. Tech's wide eyes darted between your face and his hand, realizing the unintended intimacy of his touch. "Oh," he stammered, but didn’t pull back his hand. "I-I apologize."

Feeling the weight of their collective stares, you squirmed uncomfortably, yearning for some space to breathe. Tech's touch, coupled with Crosshair's taunting sent a flurry of conflicting emotions coursing through you, rendering you speechless. It seemed like every part of you was reacting, including that one lower part that seemed to have a mind of its own.

Before the tension could escalate further, Echo chimed in with an observation. "Well, I've never seen that before."

Returning to reality, you brushed Tech's hand away and swiftly grabbed your sleeping gear, attempting to regain your composure. "You're all acting like a bunch of-"

"It looks like our sarad is finally blossoming," Crosshair mocked, his voice laced with amusement.

Unable to take another word from him, you shoved past Tech to lunge on Crosshair, whose scowl was now a shit eating smirk. “I’ll wipe that smug-”

Hunter jumped in to hold you back. “Back off, Cross.” You were still grabbing for Crosshair when Hunter’s firm grip on your waist registered with you. You stiffened as Hunter detangled your arms from his shoulder and pulled you aside. He turned to you and surprised you by gently cupped your cheek. “Listen, we’re not trying to upset you.”

You were too aware of all the places your bodies had just touched - where his hands had been. It was all too much and with his hand on your face you simply couldn’t move.

The unexpected closeness and the warmth of his touch left you momentarily stunned, struggling to process the flood of sensations. With an effort to maintain your composure, you pulled away from Hunter's touch, grabbing your gear tightly. But before you could make your escape, Wrecker wrapped you in his arms and wrung you off your feet. “Aw, don’t be mad, we were just worried!” All you could focus on was the size of his hands and how nice his arms felt. When he dropped you, you just stood hunched over with a death grip on your sleeping pack.

The way you just stood at the mouth of the ship wide eyed and huffing, you probably looked like a deranged blurg. You felt deranged. In mere minutes you’d gone from composed to weak kneed simply from a few touches and teases. Being the center of their attention in those minutes had lit something in you that was quickly getting out of control. You still couldn’t manage words when you took off down the Marauder’s ramp.

At once Hunter, Wrecker, Crosshair, and Tech looked back at Echo. Echo echoed the collective astonishment, his tone tinged with bewilderment. "I've never seen her act like that before."

Tech, ever the analyzer, observed the physical signs of your distress with keen interest. He looked down at the hand he'd placed on your chest. "Her heart rate and temperature were elevated," he noted, his analytical nature kicking in. "Her coloring was..." He paused, searching for the right word, "...unexpectedly vibrant." Tech was quick to record his observations, whether mentally or digitally, finding your behavior to be a fascinating new discovery.

"Intriguing," Tech mused, adjusting his glasses with a confident shrug. "Her conduct with us doesn't align with her interactions with her former squadron. This divergence suggests a remarkably positive correlation." His conclusion was delivered with a note of excitement, indicative of his realization of the significance of your reaction. "And I am seldom wrong."

Each member of the Bad Batch absorbed Tech's assessment in their own way, contemplating the implications of your behavior.

When it was time to part ways with the 501st, you made your good-byes. The Batch weren’t much for good-byes, aside from Echo giving an extra farewell to Rex, they watched on from the mouth of the Marauder. You didn’t know when, or if, you’d see them again so you were saying good-bye to each clone.

Jesse sauntered over to the Batch as you engaged in one last round of roughhousing with Fives. He glanced at you, then at the Batch. An obvious jab that didn't fail to elicit a snarl from Crosshair. “Looks like she's clinging to her ‘regs’ a bit too tightly,” he remarked, his tone laced with thinly veiled mockery. Crosshair's lip curled in response, a silent warning brewing beneath his steely exterior. “Maybe it's time she remembers where she belongs.”

“Ay! Sarad!” Wrecker’s voice boomed out suddenly, your head immediately snapping to attention. “You comin’ or what?”

Tech, with a slight adjustment to his goggles, couldn't help but notice the telltale signs of your embarrassment—the faint flush creeping up your cheeks, the nervous smile that flickered across your lips. It was a sight that stirred something in his usually analytical mind. “Looks like she's right where she belongs,” he remarked softly, a rare hint of sentimentality in his tone.

Jesse let out a huff of resignation. “I suppose so. Just make sure you take care of her,” he muttered before slipping away.

As Wrecker slung his arm around your shoulders, nearly toppling you over, you hesitated for a moment. But instead of pulling away, you returned the gesture with a small hip bump, a silent olive branch. This is really going to take some getting used to.

Hunter, helmet tucked under his arm, stepped forward. “If you ever decide you want to go back to the 501st... we'd understand,” he offered, his tone tinged with sincerity.

You shook your head with a laugh, stepping out of Wrecker’s embrace. Playfully knocking an elbow into Hunter’s side, you grinned. “You think I’d trade you guys for the 501st? Not a chance,” you replied, your words carrying a hint of affection.

“Oh, spare us the sentimentality,” Crosshair interjected dryly, though the faint twitch of his lip betrayed a hint of amusement.

As you stood among the Batch, you laughed to yourself. This is going to be fun.

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queenariesofnarnia · 1 year ago

Text

physical touch

the bad batch x f! reader

wc: 942

warnings: some fun teasing and that should be it. a light suggestive ending

You’re a physical touch person with a bright personality, you have been like that since you were young. Your friends enjoyed your hugs, or whenever you linked arms with them while walking. They also enjoyed how you always brightened their days. However, once you became a medic for the war, you dialed back on being physical touch. The clones did enjoy your soft hands helping them versus a droid, and your smile always put them in a better mood. You often helped the 212th or 104th, there were some rare occasions that Kix from the 501st requested you. That was until you were assigned to Clone Force 99 as their permanent medic. It took some time, but you ended up getting along with the squad great. Crosshair took longer to warm up to you, but it was expected after you first met them.

They weren’t aware of how much you liked physical touch until on a mission where you called to assist the 501st. The way many of the troopers greeted you with hugs, even Commander Tano and General Skywalker did. You walked next to the commander with your arms linked giggling. Your squad looked slightly confused, sure you were bubbly around them but never touchy.

“Is she acting different?” Wrecker asks, as they watch you laugh with your arm around the jedi commander.

“I believe she is behaving like herself” Tech says glancing at you before going back to his datapad.

“She’s different from when she is around us” Hunter answers observing you. The way your eyes lit up when you received any hug or form of physical affection.

“Looks like our little tooka doesn’t get enough attention from us. Look at how she’s eating up the regs attention.” Crosshair says taking off his helmet, putting a toothpick in his mouth. They sit away from everyone on their own, they keep an eye on you. They watch you as you lay your head in Ahsoka’s lap as she tells you a story of a mission she was just on. Then once her story is done you switch places animatedly telling her a story. Anakin calls a meeting to go over the plan for tomorrow. You stand next to Ahsoka arms still linked together. Once the meeting is over, Anakin makes his way over to you ruffling your hair.

“Missed having you around sunshine” he say before wrapping an arm around you pulling you in for a side hug.

“Missed you too trouble” you hip bump him. “How’s Pads doing?” you ask him quietly.

“She’s good, she says hi” he shoots you a wink before walking off with Rex. Leaving you and Ahsoka by the fire together.

“So, tell me, have you even tried hugging your own squad yet? They keep staring holes into the boys’ heads when they hug you or pay you any attention.” She says laughing.

“No way. I’m too scared to ask. This bunch was already affectionate when I got here” you say gesturing to the 501st. She nods in agreement, laying her head on your shoulder.

“I don’t think it’ll hurt to ask” she tells you looking up at your squad. You look over at them too and give a small smile. Wrecker happily waves at you. “Go over there and spend some time with them. You know where to find me if they say no” she removes her head and pushes you up. As you walk across camp saying hi to the troopers that spoke to you, Fives stops you.

“You need a cuddle buddy tonight sunshine?” He asks flirtatiously. You laugh at his antics.

“Not tonight hon. I’ll find you if I change my mind” you continue towards your squad. Sitting next to Wrecker when you make it to them. “Hi boys” you greet them with your signature smile.

“ You finally had enough of the regs?” Crosshair hissed. You were a bit confused. You knew they didn’t like regular clones, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t.

“Is there a problem?” You ask looking at each of them.

“Yes” Crosshair quickly answered. “All this affection you’re suddenly giving to regs.” he points his toothpick at you.

“All you had to do is ask for a hug mesh’la” Wrecker says wrapping his arm around you, the Mando’a term of endearment rolling off his tongue sweetly.

“Are we not sufficient enough to provide you physical affection?” Tech asked, as he finally tucks his datapad away.

“Do we not give you the attention you need?” Hunter’s husky voice sent a shiver down your spine. You were getting flustered.

“What do you mean? I am getting enough attention” you say trying not to stumble over your words.

“Is our little tooka shy all of a sudden?” Crosshair mockingly asks.

“You were just blossoming from the attention you were receiving” Hunter says scooting closer to you.

“The way her pupils are dilated now, she is enjoying our attention more than what she was previously receiving” Tech points out. You stand up quickly not wanted to keep facing the teasing.

“I’m going to sleep on the Marauder” you announce walking away. They each get up as well.

“Not without us” Wrecker says laughing. You hide your face in your hands heading in the direction of the ship. A hand was placed on your back guiding you.

“Maybe you won’t get sleep little tooka” Crosshair whispered in your ear. You groan due to embarrassment.

“Save your noises for later mesh’la” Hunter said from the other side of Crosshair.

“I’ll have to record the noises she’ll make later” Tech says excitedly from your left side. The others chuckle at you, agreeing with him.

#tech x reader #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch #wrecker x reader #tbb hunter x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb tech #crosshair x reader #hunter x reader

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court-jesterr · 1 year ago

Text

Uncommon Reaction

Pairing: Tech x Fem!Reader (our lovely medic line) Warnings: female insults, gross man being a jerk to reader, violence, cursing, Mando'a cursing, fluff, not proof read I just needed to get it out as my mourning, nothing else I don't think Word Count: 4.5k Summary: Needing something from town, you're stuck with going with Tech, as everyone else is busy. You're not used to his response when a man decides to be rude to you.

Requests are open if you have anything you'd like to send in!

______________________________

"Echo," your mirthful voice reverberated around the walls of the Maruader as you laughed, "please?"

Laughing at your shameful display as you childishly hung off of the man's shoulder, playfully pouting at him with eyes as wide as a loth kitten. He chided you with an amusingly stern use of your name, dragging you alongside him as he walked down the gangplank, "I've already told you that I can't go with you into town. I'd love to but I have to help Hunter gather the rations and make sure we have enough for the next trip."

Whining dramatically, you pull at his hand, "I can wait! Really! I'll even help count so it'll go quicker!" Though you tried your most convincing grin, hoping your innocent tone would win him over as it had multiple times before, the Arc trooper shook his head.

"Sorry, sarad, no can do." His simple decline made you groan in frustration and drop his hand indignantly but he continued, "It's already getting late, anyway, the sun'll be gone before we even finish counting. Why don't you see if Tech will go with you?"

At the mention of the clever clone, your cheeks immediately warmed and you pulled away from Echo a bit in fear he might catch your sudden change. "I-I'm sure he's busy...he's always busy with some kinda tinkering." Your mumbled response was met with a raised brow from the cybernetic clone before you, his trained eye-catching the evergrowing red color staining your cheeks. Though the planet had a warmer temperature than some others the Batch had stopped on recently, Echo knew this couldn't have affected you so suddenly. You noticed his scrutinizing squint and quickly tried to move the subject elsewhere, "Maybe Wrecker or Cross could go with-"

With another shake of his head, a knowing grin starting to grow over his pale lips, arms crossing over his armored chest, Echo interrupted you, "Busy with rearranging the cargo hold so Tech doesn't get rid of their explosives again." Then he smirked at your obvious dilemma, "Besides, I'm sure that if you ask him, Tech'll set whatever he's doing aside. He seems to like you more than any of the rest of us."

Stammering at Echo's teasing, you fumbled with a response. He couldn't be serious, right? Tech was nice, of course, he was just as nice as any of the others- just in his own way.

The way that sent butterflies screaming into your stomach...

The way that made your hands tremble sometimes when he forgot about the social decency of personal space...

Tech was nice in the way that you adored and couldn't get enough of even when you'd been around him for hours upon hours, even when his brothers wanted to strangle him.

"Uh, w-well, I don't-" You started as Echo tapped his chin with his scomp-link, in thought when footsteps from the gangplank sounded.

Walking down a step at a time, Tech emerged, face ever plastered to his datapad. A miniscule glance was sent from Echo to you then back to the device in his hands. "I heard whining from the pilot's seat," he began, his precise tone sounding uninvested as it typically did when he was observing a situation unbiasedly.

Echo grinned over at Tech, "Just the clone we were looking for," he praised with a welcoming wave of his scomp. "Our dear medic here is in dire need of heading into town and no one has any time to go with her."

As soon as Echo mentioned you needing to go into town, Tech put away his datapad, eyes meeting yours. "It would seem I am currently unimpeded by any projects that require my immediate attention, for the time being, that is." He stepped further down the gangplank, standing in the unoccupied space before you and Echo. "An appropriate solution would be that I accompany you into the nearby town."

Echo slowly turned his head to meet your red face, smirking proudly at you, "It would be, wouldn't it?" He chuckled at your incredulous expression, then looked back at the taller clone. "Then make it quick the two of you, it's going to be getting dark soon and I'm sure the town isn't the best place to be, even for us." He rested his hand on Tech's shoulder, walking back up the gangplank to head inside the ship, momentarily turning around to salute you with a wink.

You stood there for a second in disbelief, trying to understand how the situation left you with just Tech....alone.

"I cannot believe him." You muttered to yourself under your breath, shaking your head.

"He is correct, actually" Tech interjected into your thoughts, causing you to start a bit, forgetting his proximity. Looking up to see him fixing his goggles on his face more comfortably, you noticed the way his brown eyes caught the sun, as light snuck behind the frames to speckle the golden hues decorating them. "The town we are heading to is known for its rather," he searched around the area for the appropriate word, "sordid, is perhaps the best term I can use for it. We would be safer grabbing what it is you need quickly, then returning at a proper pace." His explanation continued but you began to get lost in your own thoughts, admiring the man before you. It seemed to happen, sometimes, that you would find yourself marveling at how someone who was supposed to be a clone- "defective" or otherwise- was so uniquely designed. However, no matter how smart Tech was, he was so clueless of his beauty (unlike Hunter who was exhaustively aware of his looks). The way his freckles brushed over the thin bridge of his nose to paint his tanned cheeks. The way his honeyed eyes were just a few shades brighter than his brothers, the way the light lingered in them even after all was dark. He was oblivious to how handsome he looked when he raised that one eyebrow in challenge, or when one of his brothers said something entirely incorrect. He was just as strong, just as well adept in battle, as any of his brothers (other than Wrecker), but he had the added allure of his intelligence that made you fall that much quicker. Tech's straightforward behavior, the endearing seriousness, his misconception of certain social cues, and the way his heart was still as open as any of the others- more so, you could argue- just made cherishing him so much easier.

A gentle call of your name caught you off-guard and you shook your head to refocus. "Hmm? Yes?"

Tech's face had grown adorably perplexed as he searched yours inquisitively. "I had asked if you were ready to leave, though I was met with only your vacant expression. Are you alright?"

A burning crept up your neck as you blinked dumbly at the clone trooper, "Y-yep! I'm perfectly fine!" You winced at the crack in your voice, hoping that if he asked any further questions you could blame some of it on the slightly elevated temperature of the planet.

Tech seemed gracious, or oblivious, enough to move on from the situation and nodded at your reply. "Then I suppose we should leave," he gestured for you to go ahead of him, "after you, mesh'la."

Once in town, you had noticed quickly what Tech had meant about the town being a little less desirable. The people seemed to even shy away from one another from time to time, going about their own business and then skittering away.

Tech kept a close pace behind you, placing himself directly behind your shoulder, his impressive height becoming even more pronounced. People seemed content to avoid the two of you and you hadn't noticed any issues with the trip so far until you felt Tech press himself further into your back, the smooth front of his chest piece cramming into your shoulder blade. "Tech?"

You glanced up as you continued forward, noting how his eyes narrowed behind his goggles, analyzing something further into the crowd. If you hadn't been in what seemed like a rather precarious situation- based on his current manner- you would find his closeness thrilling and unusual, but by his squared shoulders, you knew he was locked onto something questionable. "Apologies for my proximity." He spoke in a low, curt tone, eyes never meeting yours.

"Is...everything alright?" You questioned, trying to look around the crowd of people to see whatever was bothering the trooper.

Tech hummed in response, the rumble of his chest shaking through his armor and into your shoulder. "Our safety is secured for the present moment. Though it would be wise for my presence to be as near to you as comfortably possible for the duration of our outing."

You hadn't been out by yourself very many times with just Tech, possibly a time a two, but any time you had been it was always causal and friendly places. You'd seen Echo, Wrecker, or Hunter get protective in the face of social danger when you'd gone out with them before and it seemed like an evident connection to make that Tech (or even Crosshair) would've as well even though it hadn't been something you'd actually thought about before. However, now, you couldn't stop the way your heart ached at Tech's rapid transition from relaxed to defensive, the strong line of his jaw the first thing you caught sight of whenever you glanced up to make sure he was still on the lookout.

"Alright," you rushed out, "I'll be quick then. Sorry for the hassle, I didn't expect there to be an actual problem." Any more guilt you had been about to express died when you felt a large hand on the other shoulder blade, the warmth spreading through your entire body.

"Your apology is unwarranted. You required something, it is only sensible that one of us accompany you for protection. Although you are a reputable member of the GAR whom I have seen manage precarious situations rather exceptionally, I am certain every one of us would prefer to maintain your safety as much as we are capable." Tech finally glanced down to give you the slightest hint of a smile, accompanied by a reassuring nod. "Please, continue."

"Th-Thanks," was all you could dumbly reply as you tore your eyes away from the clone to search around for any pop-up stand that had what you had dragged Tech out here to get. It was some form of balm that you had needed to add to your collection for healing cuts and scrapes that the GAR hadn't entirely said was a part of the standard order of supplies but it worked as a wonderful substitute for bacta. It didn't take much longer to find a stand that was selling medical salves and the like, though the warmth of Tech's steady touch- whether from his chest or his hand- distracted you desperately.

While shopping through the procured items laid out, you felt Tech's hand fall away from your shoulder and a voice that was unknown to you spoke. "Listen goggles," the gruff man spoke, "just walk away from the woman and nobody has to get hurt, alright?"

As you began to turn, you were met with Tech's broad back blocking you as his hand came behind him to tuck you closer. "I regret to inform you that I am incapable of doing so." His voice was as steady and casual as typical for Tech, if you'd not known any better you would've thought he'd been speaking to Hunter or one of the others.

Choking out a gurgled laugh, the man pulled out a blaster, clicking off what you recognized as the stun. You were hardly terrified, Tech was highly skilled, though faced with a blaster you were worried he might be injured. Tech wasn't the first to respond with violence, opting instead to de-escalate the situation with a straightforward and disarming method. "I don't think you heard me, prick. I don't think you want to die over a whore, do you?" The insult hit you, surprised by its accusation and you placed a steadying hand on the backpack Tech wore, to steal a glance of the situation. You felt the hand that was placed on your arm tighten its grip protectively at your movement.

Tech was caught off guard by the insult as well, inclining his head at the shorter man. "Pardon me?"

"The whore, you fool. I want to whore. Move away so I can have her and we can part ways without anyone getting harmed." The man motioned with his blaster for Tech to step aside, though he remained unmoving.

Tech adjusted his goggles with his free hand, "by my estimation, it would seem that the only fool in our current location would be you. I will not be moving, so in light of our impasse, how would you prefer to proceed? By the tremble of your blaster, I would venture that you are incapable of properly wielding the weapon, which is a dangerous decision in and of itself. Again, it would seem you are the fool." Tech took a step forward, calm assurance complimenting his candid tone.

"B-Back up, freak! I'll blast you without a second thought." The man snarled as he raised his blaster higher toward Tech's chest. As you noted what Tech said, he was right- as always- the man's hand shook prominently. Though the sight of a blaster pointed so blatantly at the trooper was unsettling, you trusted him.

"Proper blaster decorum is to hold higher on the handle, finger over the trigger, and placed securely at the target of the blaster bolt." Tech's nonchalant lesson to the man seemed to only set the situation more on edge, which was surprising to you. He wasn't de-escalating, he was...antagonizing. "Is it standard practice here that any chakaaryc is allowed to carry a blaster?"

"A-Any...what?" The man asked confounded by the word he didn't understand, using his other hand to stabilize the blaster now as Tech approached closer to him.

It was normal for the Batch to use their Mando'a around one another, though they didn't use it much around others outside the GAR and even you didn't understand the language so you never paid attention to the words. Though now you were silently cursing yourself for not studying it, wondering what it was that Tech said.

"Di'kutla," Tech's voice lowered to a tone you hadn't heard him use before, it sounded almost...dangerous, "It is a Mandalorian translation for a filthy low-life, such as yourself."

"Why you!" The man's finger began to push the blaster's trigger and you felt your heart drop, stomach-churning, until you blinked and nearly missed the effortlessly elegant way Tech disarmed the man of his blaster. Crying in pain as his hand was bent backward while Tech placed the rogue blaster in his belt after switching it off, the man spat curses at the trooper. "She's just a whore, man! What's your big deal?!"

At the man's insistence on your status, Tech furthered his grip, causing him to yell out, Tech’s stoic composure- in contrast- never faltering. "I believe I have heard quite enough from you, mir'sheb."

"But-" Interrupting the man's argument, Tech's fist connected directly to the criminal’s face in a surprising display of brutality, effectively silencing him- and bloodying his nose.

"I said enough."

Standing in absolute awe of the current events, you were speechless, and before you could muster anything to say you watched as Tech yanked the stumbling man toward you by the grip on his wrist. "Forgive my lack of decency, mesh'la, though regarding his offense, this man owes you an apology."

"Tech, I-" You began, only for Tech to twist the man's arm behind his back and press him forward a bit harsher to which the man stumbled onto his knees, causing Tech to bend down with him, muttering apologies at your feet.

"Are you pleased with his display of atonement, cyar'ika?" Tech's honeyed eyes rose to meet yours, his tall frame bending over the man on the ground, refusing to let him free until you were satisfied. At your nod, he released his hold.

The man scurried to his feet and scuttled away as quickly as he could, nursing his wrist. Confusion washed over you as you glanced at the trooper, dusting off his hands and shuffling things around on his belt to make room for the blaster he had acquired. Once satisfied with his work, Tech met your eyes once more, adjusting his goggles nonchalantly. "Have you found what it is that we came to find?"

Still stunned by Tech's uncommon display of brute force and his complete willingness to act as if it has been just a normal day of the week, you stood there silently holding up the salve. "Wonderful, then we should return quickly." He sent a look around the sky to notice that it was dark now, "I am sure-" and as if on cue, Tech's comm link made a sound. Echo's voice rushed out with a stern use of Tech's name as soon as he’d answered it.

"Where in the galaxy are you two? I said to be quick!" The clone complained on the other end of the comm. Motioning for you to join at his side, Tech explained that you were momentarily disrupted but were unharmed and returning shortly.

While he spoke with Echo, you stared stupidly at the salve in your hand, replaying Tech making an absolute fool of the criminal. You'd never seen him react in such a way and you could feel your cheeks burning at how attractive the response had been to witness. What could've caused such a change in his approach? Of course, the Batch was known to be unconventional, so maybe Tech just thought the only way to dissuade the man was to use brute strength, but it just seemed like something bothered him. Could it have been when the guy insulted you?

A call of your name brought you back to the present, where Tech was standing in front of you, his hand extended. "Take my hand, please, it is quite dark. I do not wish to lose you in the crowd, it would seem this town is worse than I had originally read about. I will make a note to update the Republic's records properly." His hand enveloped yours delicately, pulling you closer to his side to guide you through the mass.

The walk back to the Marauder was quiet, your mind reeling from what happened. You were no stranger to difficult scenarios such as that one, so it wasn't as if you were scared just baffled.

"Stars! Finally, you two are back." Echo huffed in frustration as you emerged from the treeline. "Come on, we gotta get out of here. We're wanted back on Kamino for some new mission. Everyone else is already prepped to leave."

Tech merely nodded, saying something about how he'd set up the ship to be ready for the journey, and departed with a casual 'see you inside' as he let go of your name.

"What's wrong with you?" The accusation behind Echo's voice elicited a glare from you, none of this would've been an issue had he not forced Tech to go with you. You wouldn't be standing here struggling to erase the image of Tech decking a criminal right in the face. Replaying the sound of his voice when he demanded his apology to you for his insults...

This was Echo's fault. For sure.

"Tech punched someone, Echo." You explained with narrowed eyes to which the pale clone laughed as if the joke you tried to tell him was the funniest thing he'd heard. "No, I'm serious. He dropped this guy. He pulled a blaster on us and Tech just...punched him in the face."

"That's weird. Tech's not usually the type to-"

"TRUST ME," you raised your voice, "I'M AWARE."

Echo started laughing again, "I told you that he had a soft spot for you, sarad." He motioned for you to follow as he began his ascent up the gangplank, and punched the closure button when you joined him.

Later into the night, while you lay awake in your bunk, you tossed and turned trying to quieten the memory from earlier though it was a futile effort. The thought was driving you crazy.

Why had Tech reacted that way? It was just too out of the ordinary for him. It seemed far more personal than he ever responded.

And Echo's comments about him having some sort of bias toward you weren't helping the racing of your heart.

So you crawled out of your bunk, making sure not to wake anyone up as you tip-toed up to the main hull where there were small sounds of tinkering echoing. Of course, he was still awake.

"Mesh'la," Tech commented as you walked in, surprising him. "You are supposed to be asleep, what are you doing awake?"

Flashing him a grin as you took up residency in the co-pilot seat across from him, you pulled your legs up close to your chest. "Much like yourself, Tech, I couldn't sleep."

Adjusting his goggles, Tech blinked a few times in consideration. "Well, are there any extenuating circumstances that are barring you from getting the rest you usually require? Such as Wrecker's snoring? Crosshair mumbling in his sleep? Echo has a bad habit of shifting a lot during the night, could it be that?"

Shaking your head at his list of options, you took a breath, "I, actually have a question."

A glance in his direction showed his brow raising in confusion. "A question for me?" Upon seeing your nod he prompted you to continue, setting his tools aside to give you his undivided attention.

"Earlier..." you began, nervously playing with the hem of your GAR-issued pajama shirt, "in the town." Tech's intent gaze spurred you to continue, though you were anxious about how he would take the question. He was always truthful, but would he find the question odd? Would he think it was a stupid question? "You reacted differently than normal." You pointed about, changing directions a little, instead of asking a question.

"I am obligated to point out that your statement is not a question, cyare. However, your assessment is correct. It is not my usual course of action to resort to physical altercations in such situations..." He responded evenly. "Though, this circumstance required a unique response from me." His added comment confused you even more.

"Why?" You inquired, eyes now meeting his.

Tilting his head to the side slightly, his brows furrowed as if he were the perplexed one now. "I thought it would be obvious." His simple response was mildly bothersome. Of course, it wasn't obvious! That's why you couldn't sleep!

"Tech, you have to remember, sometimes, some of us need you to explain what's going on up there in that exceptional mind of yours." You clarified as you tapped your temple, gesturing for him with a soft smile on your face.

It dawned on him then, that perhaps it probably wasn't obvious to you. Though he struggled to find how to put it into words. "I was required to respond irregularly because he had offended you. Pointing a blaster at me is less of an issue, one I am perfectly well adept at discouraging," Tech's voice was unchanging until he glanced at his hands and his tone dropped. "It wasn't until his unwarranted comments regarding you that I felt my common strategy of de-escalating was not suitable enough. Your virtue demanded more than my words to right the occurrence." His eyes were still downcast as he spoke, seeming...embarrassed?

"My virtue?" You repeated his term of use.

Nodding, the clone finally met your eyes, the emotion behind his brown hues causing the breath to catch in your lungs. "Yes. I will never allow someone to speak so disparagingly about you in my presence. You deserve far more from those who say they care for you."

The blue streaks of hyperspace highlighted the contours of his handsome face, highlighting his features. It seemed as if time slowed to a crawl between the two of you at his admission. Was it a declaration of love, no, but it still burned in your chest as if it had been. "You care for me, Tech?"

"Considerably so, yes." The speed and certainty of his response felt as if it knocked you against the seat, like your first trip into hyperspace, kicking you back. His honesty was staggering every time. "If I can be forthright, I find that I am more partial to you than even my brothers are. I have spoken with Hunter at length about why this may be. The solution we have come to at the very moment is," Then he paused for a moment, considering his words carefully, "that I have a romantic interest in you. The signs of psychical attraction I have are evident, or so I thought. I desire to be close to you as often as possible, and the ability to speak with you about things is a welcomed one that I look forward to regularly."

As you listened, the burning in your chest only worsened. Tech not only punched a man because he insulted you, but punched a man who insulted you because of how much he cares about you and your honor? And now he was telling you how much he'd cared for you? This had to be a dream.

"Forgive me if this is not the answer you were envisioning, however, that does not change the truth of the answer to your query." Tech finished with a resolute nod, though the emotion did not leave his eyes.

You sat there across from him for a while in silence, reflecting, assessing, and gathering, but once everything sorted itself into place in your mind you rose from your seat to stand before Tech. He'd always been so straightforward, so honest with you...he only deserved the same in return.

Your hands hesitantly reached out, testing the waters of his current mood. When he didn't pull away, you caressed his jaw on either side lovingly, tilting his chin up to meet your eyes. The astonishment in them betrayed his outwardly calm demeanor as you leaned down to graze your lips against his, a whispered 'thank you' tumbling from your lips before you kissed him.

As if your confusion and amazement had been transferred to him, Tech merely sat in his seat, numbly. However, as you began to pull away, his hand quickly reached out to rest around the back of your head to stop you from going too far. Brown eyes explored your face as if you were an illusion, "you captivate and baffle me," he breathed out in wonderment, pulling you back in for another kiss, "show me more, please."

Laughing under your breath at his request you lowered yourself into his lap gingerly, "I'd love to, but right now, I just want to kiss you a little more."

________________________________________

Mando'a translations just in case- chakaaryc - lowlife, rotten, di'kutla- useless/ worthless, mir'sheb- smartass

@stellarbit - this is for the both of us.

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dindjarindiaries · 1 year ago

Text

Borrowed Time

summary: You can’t stop staring at Hunter during a mission, and little do you know just how distracting it is for both him and you.

pairing: sergeant hunter (tbb) x reader

tags: canon-typical violence, light angst, kissing, fluff

rating: T

word count: 3.786k

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

“All right.”

Hunter’s voice, modulated by his helmet, broke through your silent reverie as you finished your weapons check. You looked up to face him and instantly, your jaw locked up. This certainly wasn’t close to the first time you’d seen him in his armor, and it was likely far from the last, but today… it was hitting different.

“Does everyone remember the plan?”

Hunter’s visor looked around the group. You couldn’t peel your gaze from him, and when his visor found you, he didn’t look away, either. It was only when Tech spoke up that the two of you shifted your attention to him. “Considering that you briefed us on the plan only a standard hour’s time ago, I would confidently say that yes. We remember.” He began tapping around on his datapad once again. “We ought to get moving if we would like to make any progress.”

“Good call, Tech.” Hunter nodded at him. “Are comms being monitored?”

“It doesn’t appear so at the moment.” Tech glanced up from his datapad to return Hunter’s nod. “That is why I suggested we move in.”

“Right.” Hunter led the way, and you were more than happy to keep your eyes on him. You blinked a few times and shook your head. There was a time and place for admiring him, and a mission wasn’t one of them.

But the lack of privacy the two of you always had to deal with left no luxury of picking and choosing when such feelings and urges would arise. You had to take any chance you could get, even if that meant your admiration would happen during a risky job.

Hunter led the group through the foliage that surrounded the hangar you were infiltrating. Cid had you chasing some kind of valuable fuel, but unlike Tech, you had somewhat drifted off during the briefing and knew next to nothing else about it. You couldn’t help it when the glow of the holoprojector had started to illuminate the golden flecks in Hunter’s eyes. He was more important than the plan in that moment.

It wasn’t long before there was a break in the trees, and Hunter crouched down before motioning for the rest of you to do the same. You weren’t far behind him, which gave you the chance to watch the steady rise and fall of his armored shoulders as he focused on observing the wide stretch of the open hangar.

“Sunny?” Omega’s voice whispered your nickname to get your attention. You leaned down to show her you were listening, despite the fact your gaze remained on Hunter. “Do you see something?”

You huffed and offered her a sweet look. “Nothing out of the ordinary, Omega.”

“Oh, okay.” Omega gave you a small smile. “You just looked really focused.” She gestured to her own forehead, and that’s when you realized there was a small knit of focus in your brow.

You fought the urge to laugh as your ears burned. “I’m only keeping an eye out. It’s a little eerie around here.”

“You can say that again,” Echo muttered from your other side. “I’m not liking this.”

“You say that about every job!” Wrecker reminded him.

Hunter’s helmet whipped around as he lifted a finger over where his mouth would be. “Quiet.”

You inhaled a breath and didn’t let go of it. It sat in your chest as you hung on his every move, your gaze zeroing in on his gloved fingers as they took some of the dirt and sifted it in a slow and steady motion. Then came your exhale, along with a slight tightening of your hand upon your own thigh as you kept yourself in place.

“The cargo’s on the other side of the hangar.” Hunter kept his voice low as he addressed the squad once again. You looked at him through your lashes as an attempt to keep your gaze focused on something other than him. Obviously, it hadn’t worked. “I can sense where they’re using it.” He drew his blaster and nodded. “Let’s head in.”

Hunter wasted no time leading the way yet again. He was sliding down the slight decline that separated the foliage from the furthest edges of the hangar, and you should’ve been following. Instead, you assured everyone you would bring up the rear, just so you could finish watching him. When he reached the ground, he stayed low, but you saw his visor find you as he gestured with his head for you to come down next.

You pulled your blaster and obeyed, this time staying attentive to what you were doing for fear of misstepping and losing your footing. When you reached the bottom, an outstretched hand was already there to help you up. You took it and made the sweet mistake of looking up, meeting the intensity of Hunter’s visor that never once left your gaze as one easy tug got you back onto your feet.

He didn’t let go of your hand, not right away. You could’ve melted right there if his sense of duty didn’t pull him back to the moment.

With a lingering touch, he pulled away and checked on the rest of the group, who had all just gotten back into position on their feet. “Okay. Plan seventy-two.” He pointed to the right side of the hangar. “Echo, Wrecker, and Omega, you’re on the diversion. Tech,” he turned his helmet, “you’re with me and Sunny.” He gestured to the extractor on Tech’s belt. “How much time will you need?”

Tech clicked around on his datapad before answering. “Not much. It seems that this type of fuel responds well to extraction, and thanks to my keen ability to handle such delicate operations, I should only need a standard minute or two to complete the procedure.”

Hunter nodded, then his visor found Echo. You still hadn’t looked away from him, not even once, and so your gaze didn’t follow his as he looked at the ARC trooper. “Echo?”

“I’ll trigger an alarm to reroute forces.” Echo gestured to the collection of ships by their designated area. “There should be a scomp over there.”

“And if that doesn’t work, I’ll blow something up,” Wrecker assured the squad.

“Fine,” Hunter agreed, setting his weight on his hip and lifting his arm to point his blaster at the ground. “Just make sure Omega’s fully out of the blast range this time.”

You bit back your smile. Protective. Omega had been quite far away from Wrecker’s last blast, but that hadn’t been enough for Hunter, of course. It only made the warmth within your chest and stomach burn more as you gave him a once-over that was dangerously obvious.

When your gaze had risen back up to his helmet, you realized his visor was already on you—and it likely had been the entire time. He began to tilt his helmet at you, but you couldn’t tell if it was a look of warning or a look of reciprocated desire.

“Hunter, we need to get going.” Tech’s voice broke through your brief trance as Hunter’s visor snapped over to his brother. “If we delay much longer, their diversion will be for nothing.”

Both you and Hunter looked to see that Echo, Wrecker, and Omega had already left. So much for being subtle. You could take the blame for that one. “Right.” Hunter lifted his blaster and ran ahead, sticking to the shadows as you and Tech did the same.

You were inside the hangar and running between cargo crates when Hunter suddenly raised his fist and began to back up behind one of the crates. The momentum from your running nearly made you run right into him, but without missing a beat, Hunter lowered his hand to reach behind himself and grab your thigh to steady you. He pressed you between his hand and the crate, keeping his grasp there until the small patrol of guards passed by.

Tech had already made it to the next crate, and he kept an eye out as Hunter slowly swung his helmet to face you. His voice was low in a tone he would never use with the others as he spoke to you. “You okay? You seem… distracted.”

You played it coy as you nodded. “Yeah, Hunter, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

His helmet tilted again, but he said nothing for a moment. Instead, he returned your nod and leaned even closer. “Good. Keep that focus.” His hand gave your thigh a quick squeeze before he began to follow in Tech’s footsteps.

You blinked a few times before following. There was no way Hunter realized how difficult it would be to follow that order, especially when he was behaving in such a way—which, you supposed, was just the normal way he acted on every mission. Somehow, that made it even worse.

At one point, Tech stopped behind another crate, looking at Hunter behind him. “Are we close to the fuel source?”

Hunter didn’t answer right away, and it wasn’t hard to tell why. He was focusing on his senses, and he helped himself to lock in even more by kneeling down and setting his palm upon the hangar’s floor. You watched as his gloved fingers gently splayed across the floor, and you had to circle your jaw to fight the flushing feeling it brought you. “We’re close.” Hunter rose up and pointed with two fingers to a cargo crate diagonal from your position. “It should be just beyond there.”

Tech nodded, taking a cautious look before he launched forward. You and Hunter followed, with you trailing just behind Hunter. It was a view you couldn’t resist, even if you were arguably focusing on where you were going. There had to be a way of following Hunter’s gentle order while also obeying your demanding heart.

Once you had gotten to the crate Hunter had pointed out before, the fuel source became more obvious. It glowed a bright green as it bubbled inside its transparisteel container. You, unsurprisingly, stared at Hunter as his visor studied it for a moment. “Are you gonna need help with that, Tech?”

“I will assume that is not an insult and kindly reject your offer,” Tech assured him. “Like I said before,” he took the extractor from his belt, “I have a keen ability for such delicate operations.”

Before anyone could say anything else, a blaring alarm sounded throughout the hangar. The three of you stayed concealed in the shadow of the cargo crate as guards began to run from their posts over to where Echo, Wrecker, and Omega were luring them. After three groups of guards had gone by, Hunter nodded at Tech, and he made his way over to the container to extract the fuel.

And even then, you couldn’t look at anything except the small sliver of skin that became apparent by Hunter’s chin as he surveyed the area to watch Tech’s back. You should’ve been doing the same, and you did every once in a while, but the pull back to Hunter was magnetic, as if he was a constant pulse you couldn’t stop sensing.

Hunter’s visor eventually found you again, and he slightly eased his grip on his blaster as he tilted his helmet. “Sunny.” He gestured with his blaster to your surroundings. “You’re supposed to be keeping watch.”

You huffed. “I am watching.” It was true; you were watching something, just not what you were supposed to be. The way you peeled your gaze away from him for the moment, though, was enough to convince Hunter.

Just as Tech had promised, he was quick with the extraction, and he was soon joining you and Hunter once again with the fuel secured on his belt. “The extraction is complete.”

“Good work, Tech.” Hunter looked over at his brother and nodded. “Get back to the ship and power it up. Sunny and I will go help the others.”

Both yours and Tech’s eyebrows shot up at that. It made no sense; Hunter could easily call them off over the comms. Tech seemed to have the same thought, and he spoke on it before you could. “Comms still are not being monitored, Hunter. We can—.”

“That’s an order, Tech.” Hunter’s tone left no room for argument.

Tech sighed, nodding once more before he backtracked the way you had all come. You were still furrowing your brow at Hunter, who was beginning to lurk out from the other end of the cargo crate. “Hunter, what’s going on?”

He glanced back at you and gestured with his head to a long set of cargo crates. “This way.”

Your confusion grew, but there was no point in questioning him. You followed him over to the crates and waited to line yourself up along its shadows. Instead, Hunter’s arm seized your waist, and he pulled you into the small space left between the two looming cargo crates.

Before you could fully make sense of it, you realized you were trapped between one of the crates and Hunter’s body, one of his hands still on your waist as the other, with his blaster, was pressed against the crate by your head. You could only look at him in awe as he spoke. “Why did you lie to me?”

You blinked a few times, and the tips of your ears began to burn. “What are you talking about?”

Hunter said your real name, his voice still low as he leaned even closer. You swallowed hard as the heat of his body washed over you in the sweetest wave. “You’ve been staring at me ever since the briefing.” He lifted his hand from your waist only to grab the lip of his helmet and lift it over his head. Your breath caught in your lungs at the sight of his gaze, which was darkened in the same amount of desire you felt for him. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

You shrugged, giving him a once-over just like before. “I thought your senses might’ve been… otherwise occupied.”

Hunter raised his brow. “Trust me, my senses are working overtime.” His arm wrapped around the side of your waist, even as he continued to hold his helmet in that grasp. “But only because they’re so committed to you that they refuse to let me focus on anything else when you’re around.”

You looked between his eyes and his lips, caught in your conflict between the invisible tether that brought you closer to him and the rest of the galaxy that was still in chaos around you. “Hunter,” you breathed his name, and at that point, your breath was fanning right over his lips. Your hands betrayed your weak protest as they wove themselves into his hair. “The mission.”

“The mission.” Hunter repeated your words and let the corner of his mouth rise in a smug smile. “It’s giving us the two things we never have: time,” his lips brushed your own, “and privacy.”

You couldn’t resist him. It didn’t matter how bad of an idea it was, and it certainly didn’t matter that you were at risk of being seen by anyone in the vicinity should they get curious. All that mattered was him, the man you had been staring at this entire time, and the fact that the warmth of his mouth and his body was on you in all the ways you’d been wanting for much too long.

All at once, he flooded your senses, from the touch of his hair on your hands to the pleased hum that he breathed into you. It was hard to separate each desperate move you made together, and even more impossible to count the seconds or minutes that ticked by as his tongue explored your mouth as if he’d never have the chance to do so again. It was breathless, passionate, and desperate all at once, with the adrenaline of the mission only adding to the sweet chaos that kept you going back for more time and time again.

Eventually, your lungs demanded air, but somehow Hunter’s didn’t need the same luxury. His lips grazed down to your neck to let you practically gasp for air underneath the hot warmth of his mouth. Each exhale you managed was dedicated to him, utterances of his name or simple breaths and sweet curses. You willed your lungs to take in enough air so you could have his lips on yours again, and soon, they allowed you to take a hold of his jaw and raise it enough for you to bring yourself back to him.

Your surroundings had long since disappeared in the haze of your affection, but for Hunter, that would never be a reality. That’s how he noticed the guard who had stopped at the place where the two of you had entered and was able to lift, aim, and stun them without missing even a single matching stroke of your tongue.

It only made your knees weaken even more.

But that distraction was enough to make the galaxy around you louder in your roaring ears, and with Hunter’s helmet just behind your back, you were able to hear the muffled voices of your squad. With a strength you never realized you were capable of, you pulled yourself away from him and spoke between pants. “The comms,” you managed. “Your helmet.”

Hunter tightened his jaw, unraveling his arm from your waist to set his helmet over his head. He kept two fingers on the side of it, and the slight tilt of his head made you hold back a giggle as you smoothed out the wrinkles in your clothes as well as in Hunter’s scarf. “We’re not far behind,” Hunter insisted. “We were just on our way to your position.” You playfully rolled your eyes at his lie as he finished. “We’ll head back to the ship.”

As he lowered his hand, you raised your brow. “Who’s the liar now?”

Hunter sighed, his hand brushing over your back as he nodded. “Come on, love. Let’s go.”

Your chest burned with a lovely ache at the nickname as the two of you stepped over the stunned guard and retreated back to the Marauder. Your pace never slowed, and thanks to the diversion Echo, Wrecker, and Omega had pulled off, you didn’t have to worry about being seen by any more guards. It wasn’t long before the two of you reached the ship, which the others had only just arrived to themselves.

“Okay, Tech,” Hunter called to his brother in the cockpit after he’d done a quick headcount. “Get us out of here.”

As Tech initiated takeoff, Omega approached you, her brow furrowed in concern. You instantly got down to her level as she met your gaze. “Sunny, what happened?” Omega gave you a worried once-over. “Did you get hurt?”

You lifted an eyebrow at her. “What do you mean, Omega?”

Omega pointed towards the cockpit. “Tech said on the comms that you and Hunter were coming to meet us, but you never did.”

You fought the warmth that attempted to enter your face as you instead reassured her with a smile. “We just got sidetracked, that’s all. There were a few lingering guards.”

“Really?” The sound of Echo’s voice caused you to look up at him. His expression was much too mischievous for your liking. “That’s surprising.”

Hunter was the one to speak up for you. His tone was coated in caution as he lifted his helmet from his head. “Why?”

Echo leaned against the back of the nearest chair. “Because that alarm I set off was supposed to summon every guard to our post.”

Hunter set his helmet down and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, it didn’t.”

Echo’s brow shot up. “Are you sure about that?”

“Hunter is telling the truth.” Tech emerged from the cockpit, having already gotten the Marauder into hyperspace. “I saw him stun a guard not far from the fuel supply while he and Sunny were engaged in a passionate kiss.”

Your jaw dropped, and your heart went right with it. Hunter froze beside you, and Echo’s lips stretched in a shit-eating grin as Wrecker broke the stunned silence first. “A what?” He shuffled Omega in front of himself and covered her ears with his hands. She glanced up at him with confusion.

Tech furrowed his brow. “Does that information surprise you?”

“It doesn’t surprise you?” Echo remarked. Meanwhile, you had slightly turned your head towards Hunter, hoping you could somehow hide yourself from this awkward tension.

“Each part of what I have said is rational to me,” Tech explained. “One guard stayed behind with the fuel supply, and Hunter and Sunny have never been subtle with their own relationship. It makes utter and complete sense for them to take advantage of a moment spent alone when we have constantly been around them for many rotations.”

The Marauder had never been more silent. You sighed and rested your hand against your forehead as you spoke. “Thank you for that, Tech.”

Hunter subtly brushed a hand over your back to soothe you as he spoke up next. “I thought you were going back to the ship.”

“I only returned when you were not answering my comm,” Tech argued. “I was attempting to warn you about the lingering guard.”

“We would’ve realized what happened anyway,” Echo insisted. He looked between the two of you and drew a circle around his own mouth. “Lips don’t lie.”

You and Hunter glanced at each other, and it was hard to bite back a smile of amusement when you realized Echo was right. The intensity of your kiss was left behind in evidence on his mouth, and you were sure your own—and possibly even your neck—was just as bad, if not worse.

“We still achieved the objective,” Tech reminded you all. “So what ought to be learned here is that… well, perhaps we should let the two of you have more privacy outside the bounds of a mission.”

Hunter raised his brow at you, and your smile spoke for you before he responded. “That would be nice.”

“Yeah.” You brought yourself just a step closer to his side. “That would be nice.”

But deep down, you both knew the truth; you would do it all over again on the next mission if it meant recreating even a fraction of the moment you had just shared.

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

#WE DID IT and man oh man do i feel like it's worth it #tbb hunter #sergeant hunter #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter x you #sergeant hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x you #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch fic #dindjarindiaries

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cardinalcanis · 8 months ago

Text

Compliance

*Comes out of a dark alley* "Hey kid, want some Titus smut to scramble that brain chemistry real good? I got your fix."

This is @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond 's fault.

Summary: Titus was struggling with some unexpected side effects from the Rubicon Surgery, luckily he finds relief in unexpected hands.

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x NB!OC

Tw: smut, Adeptus Mechanicus, prostate massage, edging, genitals are a social construct, technically tentacles, Astartes have more holes than you think (trust me), MATH.

Word count: 7316

Tag squad (let me know if you wish to be tagged on stuff): @druidwolf21 @wolf-feathers12 @artemisareia @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus

@gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @kit-williams @egrets-not-regrets @jaghatai-khock @horuslupercal

@moodymisty @lemon-russ @thisuserislilsilly

@sinistermojo @beckyninja @justallll @ms--lobotomy @pluvio-tea

Mechanicus speech cheat sheet:

When the hyperfocus gets in my mind goes so hard into ideas it gets them pregnant. So as this has a lot of Math Symbols as I went hamm on writing the Tech Priest’s way of speaking. I’m not a mathematician, I played loosely with stuff and their meanings, do not scream at me. Here is a quick list:

> -> More than.

= -> equals.

! -> negation of, no

+++ -> increase.

<= -> less or equal to

& -> and

- - - -> decrease

T(statement) -> that statement or thing is always true.

=> -> therefore, implies, if… then

!= -> not equals to

∈ -> belongs to

⇔ -> if and only if, only.

\/ -> or

P(statement) -> probability of statement

Statement1 | statement2 -> statement1 happened because statement2 happened.

E(statement) -> the statement is an expected result.

∅ -> null

F(statement) -> that statement or thing is always false.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lieutenant Demetrian Titus of the Ultramarines, Liberator of Graia, slayer of Grimskull, veteran of the Deathwatch, bane of xenos, executioner of Thousand Sons… reduced to this pathetic drooling mess.

It had started around a month ago, the last bloody bug had been ripped to shreds but still he felt this hunger to keep going. He checked the state of his armor’s system, to his surprise the reserves of adrenaline shots hadn’t been used during the battle. Why did he still feel so restless? When did his bodyglove become so overstimulating? Had the material always been that noticeable on the skin when it was supposed to be seamless? Every single one of his nerve endings was screaming for touch, begging to be rubbed against something, ANYTHING. The worst was his aching groin, he had been close to believing that his codpiece was about to slingshot off him and get someone killed any second now.

“Testosterone > expected Astartes levels. Positive note. Risk factor = low. !(Possibility) of death.” had stated Magos Biologis Mu-Oragon, brown eyes scanning the dataslate.

“Low risk factor? I can’t barely focus on anything else Magos. What’s causing this?”

The mechanicus lifted their gaze from the datapad, pale skin bathed in its faint greenish glow. Titus couldn’t decipher if the person had been male or female before embracing the Omnissiah, but there was a graceful beauty on the mech priest that had been lacking on others of their kind… shit this is bad he’s now sexualizing one of those tin cans.

“This unit understands, patient’s +++frustration = expected. Rubicon <= a year.”

“Yes.” He had started to rock slightly on his seat, trying to focus on anything else rather than the heat coming from his core. At least his armor helped with masking the worst parts of his current condition, unlike the joke that tried to call itself a robe which he had to wear for examination.

“[(Rubicon <= a year)&(Testosterone > expected Astartes level)] = normal occurrence.” One of Mu’s mechadendrites reached for the shelf, pulling a heavy binder. They then held it open with the help of their four mechanical arms. “---Symptoms expected. T(Normal progression).”

“And what do you want me to do in the meantime! I thought the apothecary had referred me here for a solution.” he exclaimed out of frustration standing off the examination table. “Don’t you have any meds you can give me?”

His whole body shivered at the unexpected cold grasp from three mechadendrites pinning him back into a seating position. Blood flowed to his cheeks due to the surprising arousal that came from being manhandled by the seemingly meek Mu.

“Hormonal cycle must !(be) disturbed => not compliance. Compliance => possible late implant rejection. I !(compromise) unit Titus’ safety.” Mu-Oragon said in what was a wholeheartedly caring tone, even through the respirator’s distortion.

Titus had been told they had been the one in charge of his rubicon surgery, the one who saved his life. An incredibly dangerous procedure in normal conditions, but with the scale of his wounds it almost meant impossible success. Even with all that he didn’t imagine the Magos would feel protective of him, he was just another number in his surgery record anyways.

“Mu I can’t fight like this…” The same shiver again but now caused by the Magos’ grasp leaving him. Only the phantom feeling of the touch floating over his skin, another painful release he couldn’t attain, adding to the breaking down of his sanity.

“That statement is true. Hopeful contrast. !(medication) != !(relief).”

It took him a moment to wrap his head around the meaning of Mu’s words. He had become better at understanding the Magos after the repeated checkups on his condition following the rubicon surgery, yet there wasn’t a chance he could call himself fluent in mechanicus speech, less with someone’s accent as strong as the one in front of him.

“You can help then, is that what you mean?”

“Titus attempted stimulation for release = True?” they asked, pulling what seemed to be an informative pamphlet from the binder.

“You mean if I had tried jacking off?”

“That statement is true.”

A soft flush washed over Titus’ cheeks, glad the Magos’ examination room was empty today, Emperor only knows how hard this conversation would be in front of others. How could a room feel both so hot and cold at the same time? One of Mu’s mechadendrites tilted his head to drive his attention back towards the mechanicus, the touch has such softness uncharacteristic of what a machine would have. Yet the exception existed on Mu-Oragon, every single one of their four arms and many mechadendrites was designed for careful surgery where an eighth of a millimeter could prove life or death. He couldn’t recall all the instances during previous examinations when he had been touched by them and only noticed it once the contact became absent.

“Yes I have.” He answered, unfamiliar with the open disclosure of his intimate activities. “It hasn’t been working.”

“Elaboration on process required. Accurate solution given ⇔ accurate description of event.”

Mu-Oragon seemed to be deciding between a collection of pamphlets and booklets, skimming through them with the many prosthetic ocular lenses around his forehead while keeping their human eyes on Titus, which added to the multiple limbs, gave them quite an arachnid appearance.

“What do you want me to say? There is not much science to it…” Even though the theoretical was quite clear, for the first time since his neophyte years his mind found itself struggling to find a proper practical for it

Titus held Mu’s gaze, curiously the Magos Biologis had retained both of his human eyes, only attaching more ocular addons around. A thing the astartes found quite curious if compared to others of his kind, who preferred replacing the lesser biological counterparts first. Theoretical: Mu-Oragon retained their human eyes, practical: it was a conscious decision due to the more patient oriented side of their occupation, it helped to establish trust.

He found the practical fitting. Wide almond shaped eyes with a reassuring stare, a window to the candid individual living inside machine parts and shrouded in logic based statements.

Mu-Oragon’s mechadendrite surprised him again by resting part of its weight on Titus’ shoulder, comprehending the man’s struggle for words. He pondered on how much was Mu’s intent and how much was the limb’s machine spirit acting, he would have been lying if admitting that the relationship between mechadendrites and users wasn’t something he found interesting. One of his brothers, a tech-marine, had explained how they were beings of their own possessing an individual machine spirit; yet perfectly synchronized with his mind. Many times acting upon his thoughts without realizing.

“Following procedure occurs on common stimulation practice. True \/ false?” asked the Magos, extending a thin booklet towards him that read ‘Comprehensive guide to prostatic stimulation’.

“No” he answered as stoically as he could, looking at the object being handed to him.

“Inference: this unit’s previous statement = false.” chirped Mu, computer-like clicks emitted as they spoke, possibly running calculations. “Response to Titus’ current statement: compiled. Deeper stimulation > external. [+++P(relief) = P.relief (Release | deep stimulation)] > [+++P(relief) = P.relief (Release | external stimulation)]. E[(---surplus testosterone) \/ (∅surplus testosterone)]”

“You mean I can fix this by showing things up my ass?”

“Statement’s truthfulness cannot be validated. P[ ((---surplus testosterone) \/ (∅surplus testosterone)) | (Simple anal insertion) ] = not conclusive. Remark: Relief of ailment ⇔ proper technique = true.”

Titus swallowed a knot in this throat, followed by a long sigh. He didn’t expect the prescription for his ailment to be a masturbation technique.

“Doubts prostatic stimulation = E(relief)?” Asked Mu tilting their head to the side. “Inexperienced = true?”

Titus nodded, noticing how he had been holding Oragon’s gaze the whole time.

“I can provide asistance ⇔ (consent = True). (Perform on Titus & explain) ⇔ (consent = True)”

The booklet crunched a bit as he held it tighter, Mu had pulled him apart and back together before, likely there is no piece of him they haven’t touched… in the medical sense. Throne that simple though made him almost produce a low gasp. A different occurrence may have ended up in the rejection of such a proposal, but his situation was all but common. He could barely stay still without rubbing his aching crotch against something. Theoretical: this is just a medical procedure; practical: nothing else will come out of it.

“Alright Mu-Oragon.” He agreed in almost a whisper. “Just… please be careful.”

“T(Titus’ wellbeing is my priority.)” Even through the respirator their tone came out gleeful and reassuring.

A couple days after, back at his chambers, Titus gasped and struggled to achieve the previous results he had experienced with the Magos. He was following the same movements and booklet’s instructions to the letter, his fingers were bigger and thicker than Mu’s; still the efforts left him wanting. He had made himself cum, and it had felt good, yes. But his relief was a cup with a hole at the bottom, never filling.

Titus pressed his face against the drool covered pillow, recalling the memory from the examination room. Every time Mu had pressed their fingers inside him an asphyxiating wave of pleasure had drowned him over and over, his hairs stood with the remembrance of the Magos’ muffled exhalations due to the effort of manhandling such a heavier man. Another finger, he went deeper, a reminiscent thought of firm steel hands that had held his legs still; spread.

Mu had played him like the director of an astropathic choir does his organ. Has Titus been the only astartes with a similar issue they’ve had to help? He bit the pillow hard enough to cause a rip, there was anger. The thought of Mu-Oragon giving similar care to someone else brewed an overflowing pot of jealousy and rage in him. But why? It was the Magos Biologis’ job to aid the Astartes, it was obvious there was no emotional attachment to the action. Despite the evidence he couldn’t stop the reassuring and borderline loving statements they had directed at him during the procedure to eat at his mind. How comfortable they had made him feel in his vulnerability, how in the time of their exchange he had silently craved for Mu to touch more of his body, to touch theirs.

Titus sat in silence, frustrated tears sliding off his cheeks, a lone company in the otherwise relatively bare room. It was quite late at what the battle barge’s internal schedule had designated as ‘night time’, how much of a ‘night owl’ was the mechanicus? Was it proper to visit them? Were they busy? Were they saving another Astartes’ life? Were they soothing other Astartes’ post rubicon testosterone spike? Next thing Titus knew he was already dressed, one thought in mind. He should go to see them, by the primarch’s honor he had to see Mu.

He moved with haste, weaving through the crowd of servitors engrossed in periodic station maintenance under the watchful vigilance of Mu’s brethren. No, they couldn’t compare to the Magos, none of them. Shit, why did he cram the stupid booklet and lube he was provided into his pocket? It was too late to return, his body would have not allowed him.

Throne, those clothes were clean out of the dryer though they encountered themselves drenched with sweat. Titus’ walk to the desired wing was a blur, the fight between will and arousal occupied his focus in its entirety. Demetrian’s awareness returned to the front stage with his arrival at Mu’s laboratory, empty except for servitors. He pressed on past examination tables and towering shelves full of implements Titus had no idea of purpose, he didn’t need to anyways, he already had one.

“Mu…” he mouthed at a sound belonging to what could be Mu’s binharic speech.

The series of rhythmic computation sounds came out of a nearby room, the door almost fully closed. From the narrow opening left, aside from the overpowering smell proper of incense and machine oil, he could make sense that it was a private chamber.

There they were, sitting crosslegged on the floor, bathed in candle glow making their augments look like consecrated gold. Mu was perpendicular from the door, immersed in sacred meditation. In front of them a towering representation of the machine god crowned the extensive cogitator it was embedded on. The Magos’ hood was down, exposing their side shaved head, what was left of their brown hair in the middle presented tightly tied in a low ponytail. Cables came out of ports and cogitators on the sides of their head, neck and under their robes, connecting them to the one they were praying to. Two of their hands were in a prayer position, the other two resting on their knees. The many mechadendrites seemed deactivated, filling a circle around Mu as they laid over the carpet, like the resting wings of an angel.

He had opened the door a bit more, taking one step inside yet regretting it instantly. It felt wrong, he was a trespasser, disturbing a sacred intimate rite he didn’t belong at. Titus tried to turn back but a mechadendrite stood to life, clasping hand pointed at the marine as if it could see him. Mu’s eyes opened accompanied by a quick inhalation, reminding him of someone waking up from deep sleep.

“Unit Demetrian Titus…” surprise took over the Magos whose mechadendrites waved around them covering them until they could pull their hood back up. “Urgent assistance = true?”

The door rattled slightly as Titus’ hand trembled. Was he feeling fear? The feeling he was made immune of? Mu tilted their head, emitting a series of concerned clicks. They patted a space on the rug beside them, limbs pulling aside to make space for Titus.

“Permissions granted; accompany this unit. ⇔ desired so.”

He entered further, making sure that the door was closed behind him. The intensity of the incense only increased with his approach. Titus gave the machine god’s image a look, its aura swallowed him, he was allowed into the room but that didn’t mean he was welcomed, that it welcomed him.

“Detecting elevated blood pressure, presence of hyperhidrosis. Inference: condition disturbed.” They pointed out when he sat, the rest of their limbs focused on respectfully disconnecting the cables that joined Mu to the room’s cogitator. “Request: details needed.”

“Magos I… I have been doing everything as told.” The words were hard to come up with, this was a bad idea, he wanted to run. “Please, believe me.”

“Complicance.” they said in what could have been a sigh. “Hormoral reading required. !(time) for a blood scan, +++urgency.” With their words they took the disconnected end of one of the cables still attached to them. “Expedited read | (direct connection = true)”

A mechanendrite exposed the port at his nape. Even taking into account that the Magos’ intentions were clear and the connection into the ports around his body was a day to day affair; he couldn’t but instinctively want to lean away from the attempt. At least while conscious he had only been connected to external machines and his armor, making Titus and it become one. He was unsure of what linking to another conscious creature would be like.

“Mu wait… ah…”

He gasped at the connector’s insertion, a cold wave washed over him. Then, pressure. An extra force needed to be applied for the linkage’s proper attachment. Titus flinched when the plug was inserted to full length and secured. It has never felt this way, the imperceptive clicking shouldn’t be that all consuming, the effortless pressure shouldn’t send a shivering echo across his whole nervous system. The next breath came from lungs outside of his chest cavity. Parallel thoughts stood by his own. Connection state: stable. +++(blood oxygenation). Execute t01101000… wait what?

“Requests: stand still for reading.” Mu pleaded, their voice sounding closer than the separation between them suggested. “Current testosterone levels = previous reading. Insulin levels within Astartes range = true. Leptin levels within Astartes range = true. HGH levels within Astartes range = true…” they paused, Titus couldn’t see Mu’s throat but felt it on his own as it moved in a swallow. “+++(Oxytoxin levels)”

A mechadendrite slid its rigged tentacle down his back coming into a wrap around the waist. The Magos glared at it with burning disapproval hasting the limb to release him. Unbecoming = true.

“What is that? Is it wrong?” Titus asked, a pressing heat that wasn’t the one already overwhelming him joined the room.

“Oxytoxin = {social bonding hormone, love hormone, reproduction…}”

The command for Mu’s arm to disconnect from him was clear, Titus’ enhanced reflexes were faster, applying pressure on the Magos’ hand before it could pull the connector out. A heart that wasn’t his drummed frantically. P(mutual) = 80%. Could it be that they have also been feeling something similar? P(mutual) = 88%. For how long? P(mutual) = 90%...

Titus leaned forwards pressing his lips on Mu’s cheek right when it met with the respirator, the skin was so soft, their smell like the rest of the room = {iron, candle wax, incense, sweat}. Mu’s arms resisted the approach but the many mechadendrites welcomed him, they acted upon their master’s subconscious wishes.

“+++(levels) = {oxytocin, adrenaline, dopamine, vasopressin}.” They reported faintly. “Warning: Unit Titus breaching patient-magos protocol.”

“Are those hormonal readings yours or mine?” He asked with a tinge of humor, yet letting the wanting show.

“Irrelevant.” The Magos chirped with higher pitch than normal before more mechadendrites started rubbing themselves around Titus like purring cats, then stopping when Mu directed a stern echoing mental order.

“How long?” he asked, pressing his body against those appendages, begging for their touch.

“Comprehension | (Unit Titus’ attention = true)” Oragon’s voice barely rose over the rushed clicking of their cogitators. “P(rubicon primaris success | healthy Astartes) = 61.6%. E(rubicon primaris success | medically dead Astartes) = ∅.” Was it a memory that flashed before him? Anger, defiance, approval, tension, relief. “Demetrian Titus: Omnissiah’s miracle. T(Demetrian Titus is my biggest pride).” Mu pressed their forehead against his. “T(Demetrian Titus is this unit’s most beautiful creation). Possessive desire = true.”

He tried to get even closer, mind screaming to the magos’ to take him theirs as their right was. A slight passing migraine struck him, pushback.

“I want ∈ Titus. I want Titus ∈ me.”

They paused, a constant stream of data rushed from them to Titus. Failure = true. Unfaithful = true. Weak = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. 01001000 01100101 01110010 01100101 01110100 01100101 01101011 00100000 00111101 00100000 01110100 01110010 01110101 01100101. 01001000 01100101 01110010 01100101 01110100 01100101 01101011 00100000 00111101 00100000 01110100 01110010 01110101 01100101 01001000 01100101 01110010 01100101 01110100 01100101 01101011 00100000 00111101 00100000 01110100 01110010 01110101 01100101.

“I’m here Mu, make me yours.” Titus purred, pressing his face on the Magos’ neck, their scent ordering his body into a surrender. +++(serotonin levels).

“I want to execute statement compliance. Intervention. This unit !(execute) statement compliance. Mu !∈ Titus. Titus !∈ Mu. Mu ∈ The Omnissiah. Titus ∈ The Emperor.” With the great effort of several limbs they were capable of pushing Titus away, his whimper had a twin companion. “ F[P(I ∈ (Omnissiah & Titus) & Titus ∈ (Me & Emperor)) > 0]. Titus’ understanding = true?”

“Mu, being with you will not make me stop fighting for the Emperor nor will distance you from the Machine God.” Unit Titus’ statement = True. “It will only make me fight harder, to fight for the Emperor is to fight for humanity, you are part of humanity, you are part of what I fight for; what I will die for.”

Two of the Magos’ hands cradled his face, thumbs rubbing his cheeks, their eyes gifted him a loving painting colored in sorrow ahead of closing them tightly. Mu’s bodily cogitators’ clicking became louder, similar to a tired engine pushing itself up a difficult hill. Every single one of the mechanicus’ limbs trembled and rattled. Titus felt a piercing pain forming behind a skull that wasn’t his own.

“Magos stop that! You are hurting yourse…”

“I would hurt myself everyday if it means I do not hurt you Titus.” The lack of machine logic in Mu-Oragon’s statement caught him by surprise, that’s what they were doing, they were ending any process that would distort the message. To the extent of their modification, it hurt. “Attention =... Listen to me closely please. What’s in your mind, what’s in my mind; it is a chimera Titus. Fantasy. !(logical).” continued as their registry jumped between two conflicting voice modulations. “I will never be able to fulfill your requirements for intimacy. Demand: compliance with silence = true… I am inside your head right now. You have expectations and desires that I cannot match.” Mu opened their eyes, they looked watery and puffy. The clicking sound became more urgent, the cogitators were screaming for it to end. “Body parts you crave that Mu… I… do not possess. Blessed Cogitators Titus, look how hard it is for me to express myself in your language, do you think a relationship will work? T(I have no place in your world).”

The hastened clicking relaxed, lungs that weren’t his struggled for air. Mu gave in and placed their forehead on Titus’ chest. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. They purred in the comfort they shouldn’t allow themselves to have. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. They were surrounded by strong arms whose warmth they had no business craving. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Their face, implants included, being covered in kisses that had a better use on someone else. Yet they didn’t want someone else to have. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true.

“You are no heretek” Titus spoke clearly, his voice making a body that wasn’t his own yet felt like it; to tremble. “I never asked you to change for me. I will not allow you to change for me. Whatever you bring to me will make me happy, because it’s yours.”

“Counterargument. Titus feeling this way | (+++testosterone & +++oxytocin). (Hormonal stabilization = true) => Titus !(love) Mu. E(Desire = {∅}).”

“Theorerical: the result of your reasoning is false. Practical: you are in my head, you must only look.”

“Compliance.”

There was an invasive tingle poking at his brain, searching, inquiring. They shared a long moment of silence, lullabied by cogitators and Mu’s binharic musings. It felt strangely intimate, not the idea he had in mind when he came out of his room desperate to have the Priest inside him. Yet he still ached for it.

Mu looked up to him. Pulling their hood down then guiding Titus hands on how to properly hold their face without disturbing the cablework. Throne, they were so strangely beautiful.

“This unit’s compliance: approval pending.” They said, “This unit’s compliance ⇔ (Titus’ trust = true & Titus’ consent = true).”

“You pulled my body apart and back Magos, do you really need more trust?”

“Mu-Oragon !(had) Titus’ consent for rubicon. Patient previous state = unconscious. Unconsciousness !(match) consent protocol. Repeating inquiry: Titus’ Trust = True?”

“Yes Mu I trust you.”

“Titus’ statement = true?” The Magos pressed.

“With my life, Mu please just… ah…”

Another cable made its insertion into Titus, now at a port on his lower back. His vision blurred for a second after the push that made the connection click, he felt himself holding Mu’s face and Mu’s face being held by his hands. A series of satisfied binharic purrs came out of him… the Magos. A touch, a gentle hand caressing behind his earlobe and going down the jawline made him moan quite loud. Titus tightened his lips afterwards full of confusion and shame. Mu chuckled behind the respirator.

“Proud remark: Any mortal knowledge of Titus’ body < this unit’s knowledge of Titus’ body.” Both him and them gasped in unison with the many limbs holding him in place. “Proceeding with statement validation.”

Fingers brushed his hair back in a soothing motion, just like they did that day at the examination room to calm his nerves.

“Retrieving previously used data; Titus = {good, strong, capable, beautiful}.”

With every word a new limb joined the embrace. Hands, ribbed tentacles, mechadendrite claspers; they all rubbed and massaged Titus’ body over his clothes. Pleasurable yet with the Magos’ teasing, no contact was made with any greater erogenous zone. The Marine played against the scheme, moving himself in a way Mu would at least grace the most vocal centers about their hunger, the mechanicus fought back trying to anticipate Titus’ moves and not let him have a win. They both were absorbed by childish chuckle and sporadic gasps. Mu’s binharic clicks were cheerful, jovial notes, light and dark compared with the ones from earlier.

He placed his lips on Mu’s neck, also feeling them on his. And ran kisses over both flesh and blessed metal parts. They tensed a bit when he attempted to touch their chest, Titus sensed a third heart rate increasing followed by a mental note reassuring him it was fine. Without leaving carefulness behind he went down the Magos’ neck, wrapping, what the jealous tentacle allowed, of an arm behind Mu’s thighs lifting their body enough for him not bend on a weird angle to keep kissing down, his lips making out of fleshy and non biological parts under the robe.

That was when the mechadendrites started to infiltrate the openings on his clothes and slide under. The metal was no longer cold as it had been warmed up by Titus’ own body heat. Had that been the Magos’ plan?

They both moaned at the sensation of ribbed well oiled tentacles rubbing themselves against Titus’ nipples, lower abdomen and inner thighs. The Marine was sitting on his knees, holding Mu with one arm and kissing their upper robed body, the other hand kept making sense of the shapes hidden by red cloth.

Anchoring themselves firmly on Titus’ shoulders with two of their arms, Mu used the leftover free hands to undo the ribbons, clasps and buttons keeping the robe on. They stopped, only them letting go would uncover their body. He eyed them expectantly, noticing how shades of pink bloomed on what could be seen on their cheeks.

“Witness the miracle of machine and flesh ⇔ (Units > initiates). Exception logged: Demetrian Titus.” Their voice sounded even more distorted than usual, nervous binharic chirps made interference with their words.

“You don’t need to undress more if you are not comfortable, Mu.” Titus indicated lovingly as he massaged one of their shoulders.

The grill covering Mu’s mouth didn't impede him from noticing they were smiling, the expression brightening their whole face. Adoring notes in binharic were said yet nothing in a manner Titus could understand, but he thought how it reminded him about how their prayers sounded like. With ritual reverence they let the cloth go, causing the scarlet to part and barely hang off their shoulders. He felt Mu shiver as that skin didn’t seem used to being uncovered, it was paler than their face and very thin, so much he felt afraid of his calloused palms breaking it open. Said skin was bitten into by metal, flexible pipes and transparent wiring transporting blood. Just as they did with their head Mu guided Titus’ hands across their upper body, reaching the pant's edge, a scar continuing down into the pubis was seducing him to follow it underneath. He would have if he hadn’t noticed how in certain places clusters of purple broke paleness’ ruling, matching where he may have innocently grabbed or kissed too excitedly.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you were that sensible.”

Titus got his mouth close enough to a bruise yet stopped leaving the lips hovering over it, only his breath making contact. He looked up to meet Mu’s gaze, a request for permission written on his. They tightened any grip on Titus leading to a shift of their weight forwards, pressing themselves against his lips. This time he could appreciate how the binharic purrs and notes actually started somewhere between their ribs and echoed towards the grilled respirator in their face to finish being properly enunciated. The pale layer vibrated and contracted with every joint moan, gasp, huff.

Mu took hold of another cable connected to them that had an orphan end with no port to call home. Instead of going for it right away they let the cord slide over Titus’ chest, going behind him by the left side of his neck and coming out from the right. The cables had a different texture from the appendages holding the mechadendrites, he enjoyed the contrast between stiff ribbedness and flexible softness. The port on the right side of his neck, by the joining with the shoulder, seemed to be the desired spot. The very moment the plug’s tip was to get inserted into it; Titus moved minimally away with a mischievous grin. Playfulness was older than machines, Mu wasn’t the only one with teasing rights.

Both continued the jolly game for a couple minutes; shifting, giggling. By the end, it seemed Titus would finally accept the insertion only for the marine to get Mu’s hand holding the cable with a light-hearted bite, not exerting a tinge of actual pressure. The Magos hummed then all together, their mechadendrites compressed his body right over spots he would feel their sting the most, the appendages close to his thighs pulled them firmly; forcing him to a more open and exposed sitting position. At the same time, Mu’s free hand seized as much as Titus’ hair it could and yanked his head back with surprising command; displaying the working area. All of it teared out a pained moan out his core.

“Delivering request for stillness.” They said, the teasing switched its tone from light-hearted into a lascivious one. “Patient Demetrian Titus !(compliance) => Execute: unit’s protocol for unruly patient subjugation. Titus != {bad patient}. (Titus = {Good patient}) = True?”

“Apologies Magos, I do want to be a good patient, please show me how.”

“Compliance.”

His heightened sensitivity perceived the contact between port and connector in ways words could barely describe. When the tip of the connector touched the outer ring, for half a second he could swear that the candles and lumens seemed to brighten then dull back to their normal luminosity. The friction of smooth metal against smooth metal from the middle of the insertion sparked ripples in his brain that reminded Titus just like a vox signal trying to connect. A final push brought the connection to properly click inside, if before it rippled across the nervous system; now there was no system left unassaulted by a powerful spasm.

Demetrian Titus went blank, only remembering short snippets drunk in this unadulterated euphoria, perception shifting quickly between bodies. Once his faculties adapted to the input stream he discovered himself in the same position but things had changed a little. Titus’ top was gone and his pants were down to the knees. Coagulated crimson lines decorated him all over, evidence from scratches his healing factor closed immediately. The marine was rocking his hips at the rhythm of one of the mechadendrites crossing between his legs, rubbing its oiled shaft over the crotch and between the buttocks. He was still holding onto Mu, quite closely. The Magos’ thighs were at both sides of his neck, Demetrian finding his teeth pulling at their pants’ waist band. Two of their hands were finding support from Titus' biceps, the other two grasping at the marine’s hair for dear life; robe barely hanging by their elbows. He saw no reason to stop it there.

Firmly holding Mu’s waist with one hand he lifted them up a bit, then using the other to grip the waistband at the back Titus slid their pants down, pulling them fully away. His lips' curiosity could finally scout the track indicated by that scar on their lower stomach. His kisses, the wetness of his tongue, the texture of his shaved cheeks; all sensations were mirrored back onto his skin. Then he made an interesting discovery, when he began charting what was left or lacked on Mu’s crotch it also reflected on his cock with curious representations. A lick on the front was actually felt at the base of his shaft, yet going and kissing a bit to the right from there was experience at the top of his glans. Mu’s moans were his moans, deep, hungry. Their connection was a cyclical loop of pleasure, what was felt on them echoed onto Titus then back into them. He wondered if the mechanicus was capable of feeling arousal from stimulation on that area without a two way connection. Maybe he could try to investigate in the future, as the now had Titus quite busy.

Mu moved the anchor points from Titus’ biceps to his hands, a metallic finger pried his mouth wide open making sure the tongue was fully out, then lifting themselves up they started to fully ride the Astartes’ mouth at the same rhythm the mechadendrite grinded its length between Titus’ legs. Their speech reduced to huffs and frantic binharic notes weaving the tunes of their shared pleasure. Titus almost dropped Mu when both of them were run over on climax’s path. Trembling prosthetic legs’ embrace became stronger, pressing him firmly on his face, a mortal with not as good breathing capacity would have likely perished out of air.

They shifted their weight around Titus to climb off his shoulders, sitting on one arm holding them, they pressed their face onto Titus’. That was when he perceived the respirator being slid down, thin soft lips and skin like the one on their other covered areas nuzzled him. Lungs that weren’t his momentarily ached as they readapted to unfiltered air. Mu’s kiss was shy, sloppy, and inexperienced. Their knowledge of other people’s bodies didn’t transfer well to the skill of kissing, it was fine, not like Titus had much either. They could learn together.

He pulled back from the kiss, not for lack of wanting but the realization he could finally admire Mu’s full face. It was round with big cheeks that were artificially parted with a depression between the cheekbone and cheek caused by the long respirator use.

“Isn’t it dangerous to take it off?” He asked quite concerned.

“!(Every unit).” their unaltered voice was more melodious than when muffled behind the respirator. “Mu-Oragon = {sacred binharic, chemical filtration}. Lung condition: stable. !(Risk)” They kissed him again then moved down his neck, he had forgotten, now they were connected Titus’ unquenching lust was also theirs. “Request: taste Titus.”

“You know the answer.” he smiled back.

Hums kept emanating from the respirator but without Mu’s mouth to guide them there was no binharic aria, just airy vibrations. He was fine without the tunes, that mouth looked beautiful with their fleshy lips crowning his nipple, disappearing into the bountiful hairy mass of his chest. Cold, a hand stroked up and down his shaft being unable to fully wrap its fingers around it. And Mu’s mouth, it was already small, yet his cock made it look even smaller by comparison, it made the whole Magos smaller by comparison.

They licked the leftover cum around the tip and down the shaft, maybe now discovering the taste he’ll have an enlightening comeback when Chairon jokingly tells him to go eat his own dick again.

Titus buckled and moaned not by stimulation itself but a memory, one of Mu’s hands was running its fingers in circles around the entrance to Titus’ backside. They were slippery, quite well lubricated in fact.

“Titus = {so good patient, follows prescription well}.” Mu teased him.

A grasping mechadendrite lifted up, holding the opened lube bottle he had stuffed inside his pocket before. Mu’s fingers barely peeked at the entrance, stretching the aroused fleshy ring.

“Titus’ memories: seen. This Unit's touch: requested. Compliance.”

They slipped inside with the same effortless precision as before, the joy of getting filled as he had been craving was unmeasurable. Titus grabbed Mu’s head and trusted his cock inside the Magos’ mouth, barely getting a third in. In vengeance they got another finger into him, he wailed at the stretch and pressure curling inside him. If before Mu played him like an instrument, the current Titus was the whole orchestra, from groans to wines they composed a melody out of the Astartes’ desire.

The rhythm became even faster, building a time bomb of pleasure inside his crotch. Drool and precum dripped down Mu’s chin, Emperor, Omnissiah, whoever was responsible: what a beautiful creature they were. Lustful indulgence was ramping up into a crescendo, Titus was getting close to relief he wanted to cry; and he did once Oragon stopped right at the plunge’s edge, denying him.

Titus was about to ask why when they held his buttcheeks open for the lubed thin rounded head of a grasping mechadendrite pressed into him.

“Wait!” He howled.

“Titus trust = true.” They whispered hugging the Astartes between their arms, and his cock between their thighs.

Bastard, they had made it so aiding his throwing member would mean thrusting back and sodomizing himself into them. He had no choice and soon realized how Mu didn’t oversell themselves when they said they knew Titus’ body best, his hole was so well prepared it took the claw and following tentacle quite well. The stretch was so much yet it didn’t feel painful, Golden Throne, it felt like something he didn’t know he wanted but now will never be able to live without.

Now the mouths of both of them were free he could appreciate how much of a mirror they had become, Titus was the baritone to Mu’s tenor-soprano, singing the same song in parallel harmonies. It was so much, he began bending over until he had the Magos pinned on the floor under him as he thrusted between their thighs, and the Magos had him entangled in many arms and cables as they stretched his insides.

Titus had been shivering when he approached the same edge of the cliff as before, it being at a higher distance from the ground compared to the last. The Astartes felt as if the fall was going to make him blackout again, Mu had given him so many gifts, brought back to life and now another way to perceive life through the skin of the one he cherished, their skin.

The timer on the time bomb in his crotch reached zero, a wave of pleasure after the other washed over him, he suddenly became aware of every pore in their skins, every hair on their heads. But it kept on, every single one of Mu’s appendages grabbed onto Titus as if letting go would cost them their life. He squirmed as his asshole didn’t see mercy nor rest, words were not able to be had with a throat so busy on pained moans.

Wait, did he have so many cables inserted? Titus finally became aware that more than three ports on his body were in use, when did it happen? When he went blank? Realization dawned on him: he was trapped. All this time he had been a careless fly dancing around the spider’s net, every step entangling him more and more until he was fully helpless, ready to be consumed. The moans transformed into howls, those became wails, wails into whimpers, whimpering devolved into sobbing, culminating in the drained gasps of a fuck hole that knows its place. His mind gave up to the pleasure finally breaking and going blank.

He woke to the smell of incense and the realization of being so literally empty, laying on his side with Mu facing him. Mechadendrites and cables were still holding him, not with hunger but care.

“I guess I ruined your rug.” He joked.

“!(underestimate) martian chemical cleaner.” The Magos smiled sleepily at him, they hadn’t put the respirator back on yet, purplish red bite marks and bruising dressed their lips and lower jaw, Titus rubbed a finger over those.

“My doing again I suppose, guess even my bare minimum of gentleness is still too rough. I’m sorry Mu, I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Reasurance. Preemptive awareness = True. Exchange | risk assessed. Titus design = {Strong, powerful, deadly}. (System’s status: fully operational) => no need to disable recurrence of interactions.” they said, soothing his worries.

Mu’s voice returned to the metallic distortion as they put the respirator back on, gentle binharic hum seemed to communicate the Magos’ bliss on that moment more than any words they nor Titus could spare.

Then the song changed to a familiar prayer, Mu started to go over the cables connecting them to Titus in reverse, from the last to be connected to the first. Before each of the disconnections the prayers sang a layered stanza Titus attributed meaning due to the tune; gratitude, mourning, hope. One by one he saw himself dividing from Mu’s senses, his mind grasping at any pieces left of that consciousness which melted into his, a cry of loneliness as what as one was became two separate beings again. He didn’t feel gloom though, as the prayer implied, separation only meant a new opportunity to meet again.

“Wait a moment.” Titus interrupted when Mu-Oragon got to the final plug that was the first, the one at his nape.

“Attention = True. Unit Titus wellbeing: stable?” They asked with the leftover sleepiness of someone coming out of a deep trance.

“Titus ∈ to Mu, and = true - and that will always be true.” He spoke slowly, doing his best to speak on their lingo, knowing they may be doing a horrible job with laughable pronunciation. “Do Mu ∈ to Titus - this is a question.”

At least his hope of not saying anything offensive by accident was reassured. The mechanicus’ face became as red as the clean parts of the rug they were laying over, nervous binharic notes escaped them like an open faucet.

“Theoretical” they started, earning an instant chuckle from Titus. “Mu ∈ Titus. Practical: T(Mu ∈ Titus).”

Just as it all started Titus kissed them on the cheek, right over where the skin met the respirator. Weird, Mu was rubbing the back of his neck, plug gone yet he didn’t feel a disconnection. Maybe the Omnissiah had finally made up their mind about him.

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kaminocasey · 1 year ago

Text

A Great View

WARNINGS: TBB S3 SPOILERS. 18+ MINORS DNI; Smut, fresher sex, possessive/jealous Crosshair, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex between partners (Wrap it up friends), p in v, maybe slight angst?

Summary: Crosshair gets jealous when Howzer flirts with you.

Pairing: Tbb s3!Crosshair x f!reader

WC: 2k

A/N: How GOOD were episodes 6 & 7?! SO GOOD right? I've missed this man so so so much. So excited for next week. When Cross said "Oh, I'm much worse." I couldn't BREATHE. And not to mention, seeing him in his old armor again???? Forever crying over him.

“Did you like the attention Howzer gave you?” Crosshair’s smoky voice is in your ear as he pushes you up against the fresher sink on the way back to Pabu so he can tend to your wounds.

Normally, this would be your job, tending to the batch’s wounds. And normally, if you had any wounds yourself, Tech would-

“No.” You shake your head.

He lets out a noncommittal grunt, his hand traveling up into your hair to move it out of the way so he can help clean the blood off your forehead. “Is that so?”

Crosshair was right earlier. He is worse than Hunter. But that’s what you love about him. Kriff, you’ve missed him so much…You flinch when he dabs at the cut.

He pulls his face back some and looks down at you with a raised eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. You’re telling the truth, though.

You tell him, firmly. “I just…”

“What is it? Tell me princess.” He hums, tilting your chin up toward him so he can search your eyes.

You can feel the other clones’ eyes on you as you sit with Omega, Wrecker, and Batcher at your feet. Howzer passes by, smirking. You look up at Crosshair, who’s suddenly more tense, and then look back down at your datapad. A few moments later, Howzer brings you a drink and you thank him.

“No problem. If you need… anything else… don’t hesitate to come find me.” He winks.

Oh. Uh oh.

You look up at Crosshair again, just knowing his eyes are on you at all times. He’s shooting Howzer a glare so hard you think it could usually break a normal person in half. Crosshair walks over to you, leaning against the table, next to you and then tilts your chin up toward him and kisses you so deeply, it makes your insides go warm and fuzzy with need.

You and Crosshair had been apart for so long, he wasn’t about to let anything get in his way again. When he pulls away, you feel slightly breathless, both yours and Crosshair’s pupils are blown and you think you may need to sneak away. Except Rex breaks up the moment, needing him and Hunter for something.

Howzer throws Crosshair his own glare and joins them, leaving you warm in the face, thinking about what you’re going to do to him tonight. Wrecker’s laugh snaps you back to reality, so you ignore him, going back to your datapad.

You look up at Crosshair, the burning need for him returning low in your stomach.

“I like when you’re jealous. It’s hot.” You smirk up at him as he puts a small bandage over the cut on your forehead.

Crosshair lets out a low chuckle, smirking. “I would say it’s more protective than anything.”

“Call it what you want, it was hot.” You shrug, running your hands across his stomach, landing on his waist, gripping his shirt.

He leans in close, his warm breath ghosting over your ear. “Yeah? You like when I let people know what’s mine?”

You nod. “Yes.”

He hums, kissing your neck and you let out a soft moan at the feel. He lifts you up, sitting you on the sink. This sink is bigger than the one on the Marauder, so there’s more room for him to stand between your legs without feeling cramped. Not that you mind the cramped feeling.

“You want me to take you right here? Remind you who you belong to?” Crosshair murmurs, squeezing your thighs.

“Yes, please.” You look up at him, eyes wide with need.

Crosshair crushes his lips to yours, finally, hands traveling to cup your neck so he can reach you better. A soft moan escapes your lips, traveling right to his, making him smirk.

The two of you had been together the entire war and then when he chose the Empire over the batch, over you, your heart shattered and you thought you’d never love again.

And then he got off that freighter with Omega and your heart soared. You belong to him, and he belongs to you. It’s the only thing that’s ever made sense in these dark times.

You and Crosshair have snuck away every chance you’ve gotten since he’s come home to you, making love, desperately and passionately. So this would come as a surprise to no one, being locked away in the fresher on Echo’s ship.

He pulls away to help you down off the sink and spins you so you’re facing the mirror. His lips turn up in a soft smirk.

“I look rough.” You notice.

Your hair is a mess, you’re caked in blood and dirt and desperately need a shower.

“Doesn’t matter.” He leans down and kisses your shoulder. “You’re still beautiful.”

You roll your eyes with a teasing smile. “If you say so.”

He starts to ease your pants down until they hit the floor, taking your underwear with them. “I do say so.”

And then he places a swift smack to your left cheek, causing you to let out a sharp gasp.

“Go on. Say it.” His smoky voice fills your ears and you close your eyes, savoring the sound of it as he rubs the spot on your cheek that he smacked.

“I’m beautiful even when I look like I had the shit beat out of me?” You tease.

He chuckles. “Brat.”

“You love me.” You open your eyes only to meet his own in the mirror.

“I do.” He nods.

It’s a promise.

He lifts your shirt up over your head, unsnapping your binder next, with slightly shaky fingers. You notice when he looks down, frustrated at his hand, so to distract him, you back up against his hardened length, making him groan softly. His hands fly to your hips, pushing you down over the sink.

“Tell me how bad you want it, princess. Go on.” He urges you, smirking down at your naked form.

You don’t think there are words to describe how badly you need him to fuck you right now.

“Fuck…” You whisper. “Please… I need it.”

“Didn’t tell you to beg. Told you to tell me how bad you want it.” He purrs, sliding two fingers through your already soaked folds.

“I- I need it.” You whimper. “So bad. Please Cross… I c- I can’t tell you how bad.”

His fingers find your clit and your back arches up as you moan and his grip on your hip tightens.

“What would you do if I just got down on my knees instead of fucking you?” He teases.

All you can do is whine.

“You really want me to fill your pussy that bad, huh?” You can hear him drop to his knees and you whine again.

“Hush.” He whispers. “Let me make you cum and then I promise I’ll fuck you as hard as you want me to. Deal?”

He knows that his voice alone is enough to make you fold. You’ve never been able to tell the man no. Not to anything.

“Deal…” You sigh.

“Thank you.” He places a quick kiss to your rear cheek.

The moment that you feel his hot tongue against your warmth, you have to put your hand over your mouth so that no one will hear you come apart above your partner. He licks stripe after stripe over your folds, getting you nice and wet for him. Your shaky breaths only spur him on.

Crosshair’s arms snake around your thighs, giving you extra security to keep you held up and you silently thank him. Unable to help yourself, though, you push back against his face, the stubble against his cheeks causing a delicious friction against your inner thighs.

Having Crosshair on his knees like this reminds you of the first night he was home. The two of you snuck away to the beach almost immediately. Hunter hadn’t been happy about it, but it was worth it. Cross had pushed you up against a rock, kissed you until both of you couldn’t breathe and then he dropped to his knees and ate your pussy for over an hour. You lost track of the amount of times he made you cum that night.

There hadn’t even been any apologies until after. The need for each other just… outweighed the bad.

And now, here he is, a couple weeks later and you have a lot of lost time to make up for.

“Fuck, right there.” You whisper.

He hums against your cunt and then sucks your sensitive clit between his teeth before latching his lips against it, making you smack your free hand against the mirror. He chuckles and pushes a finger into your tight warmth, making you groan against your palm.

“Yeah? You gonna cum on my face, cyar’ika?” He encourages you, thrusting his finger in and out of you.

You both know it’s not as good as his cock, but his long slender fingers have always been able to reach into you so perfectly.

“Mmhmmm.” You whine as he curls his finger against the spongy part inside of you, making that familiar warm feeling start to take over. “So good.”

The blinding white hot feeling rips through your body like a volcano, sending you over the edge, dripping down Crosshair’s face.

He stands up, gripping your hair and pulling back so that you’re forced to watch as he pushes his cock roughly into you, making both of you moan so loudly that he has to place his free hand over your mouth so you’ll be quieter. You don’t mind though because it brings you physically both closer. You make eye contact again in the mirror and he kisses your bare shoulder, thrusting roughly into you.

“Mm.” He sighs. “You know you’re mine, don’t you?”

You nod, mumbling around his hand, answering him.

“And you don’t mind if I make everyone else aware that you’re mine?” He whispers.

You shake your head.

“Good. Fuck… So good to me.” His thrusts become sharper, more purposeful as you clench around his cock.

You know you’re going to feel it later. But it’s alright because you know he’ll take care of you later.

“Where do you want my cum?” He grits between his teeth.

“Inside.” You mumble through his fingers.

He buries his face in your neck, biting back a growl the best he can as he empties himself inside of you, painting your walls with himself, just how you love it. Deep and rough. You’re sure to have bruises in the shape of long slender fingers on your hip in the morning, but you don’t mind.

“Shower.” You whisper.

“Shower.” He agrees. “But first…”

He spins you around to face him and kisses you again. This time, more gently, cupping your face so carefully, he almost seems afraid that you could break. His tongue slips past your lips, dancing along yours and you cling to him, wrapping your arms around him.

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours. “Thank you.”

“For what?” You look up into amber brown eyes, confused.

“For taking me back, even when I didn’t deserve it.” He whispers.

You pull away, staring up into his eyes, your favorite eyes, holding his face so that he looks at you. “Listen to me, Cross… Everything you did… all the mistakes you made… they don’t define you. You have to let go of the past so that we can build our future. Okay?”

You’ve seen how much he’s changed. You see the way he is with Omega. How affectionate he is with Batcher. And more importantly, how he’s apologized to you and promised to be better. You believe him. You believe in him.

He nods, tears nearing the brim of his eyes, so you kiss him again.

“Speaking of our future…” You murmur softly, smiling against his lips. “A couple days ago, Shep showed me a house I thought could be perfect for us.”

“Oh yeah?” He guides you into the shower, starting the water.

“It’s got a great view.” You wiggle your eyebrows.

“Doesn’t every house on Pabu have a ‘great view’?” He raises a dark eyebrow.

“Yeah, but not every house in Pabu has you.” You shrug. For the first time, you think since before he left, he lets out a genuine laugh. It reaches your soul and you know you’ll do anything to hear that laugh for the rest of your life.

TAGS: @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @idledreams @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz @burningfieldof-clover @rebelsriley

#tbb crosshair #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb s3 #tbb s3 spoilers #tbb spoilers #bad batch spoilers

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nahoney22 · 2 months ago

Note

Congrats on the followers id yet again like to throw in another request please?

growing up I had difficult with reading or learning to read in general. I was wondering if you could come up with a slight angsty and fluffy fic of tech trying to teach reader (fem) to read? Maybe he’s not patient, makes a very tech-like comment that reader overhears that upsets her which sucks because she really likes tech? ❤️ thank u ☺️

🌊 Reading Between the Lines

🫧 Pairings: Tech X Female Reader

🫧 word count: 6.1k

🫧 Plot: When Tech finds out you’re unable to read, he makes it his job to teach you. But after a comment to Echo, you think maybe he’s not the teacher for you.

🫧 Warnings: Safe for work, fluff and angst. Female reader, reader is unable to read. Tech makes accidental inconsiderate comments, comfort, play fighting, omega playing match maker, idiots in love trope, first kiss, reconciliation.

🫧: authors note: thank you @forbiddenwaves for this request and the kind words. Thanks for messaging me so we can work on this togther too. Enjoy 🤍

“Now, attempt the next word.”

You stared down at the datapad, the symbols swimming on the screen under the shadow of Tech’s tall frame. The sun beat down on your shoulders, and you bit the inside of your cheek, determined not to get this one wrong.

“Erm…”

“That is incorrect,” he stated before you could even finish.

Your brows furrowed. “I haven’t given you an answer yet,” you muttered, sharper than you intended. “It’s… con… cot…”

“Corellia,” Omega suddenly answered cheerfully from your other side as she bounds over.

You slumped with a groan, just as Tech gave a frustrated exhale.

“Omega,” he said, tone reproachful, “if you provide the answer, she will not learn.”

Omega winced, looking between the two of you with a sheepish shrug. “Sorry,” she said, eyes softening as they met yours.

“It’s alright,” you sighed in defeat. “I think I’m done for today. Besides, we’ve got to help the locals soon. That is why we’re on this rock after all.”

Tech folded his arms across his chest, expression unreadable behind his goggles. “We’ve scarcely covered anything of substance.”

“It’s been almost two hours,” you pointed out, rising from the crate you’d been sitting on, legs stiff. You turned to face him, half your features obscured by the harsh sunlight. “I need a break.”

He didn’t argue, but the way he took the datapad back from your hands with just a bit too much stiffness told you he wasn’t thrilled. “Very well. We’ll resume this evening.” Then, turning to Omega: “And I would appreciate no further interruptions.”

She nodded silently.

As Tech strode toward the ship’s gangplank, Omega reached for your hand, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze. “Hey, you got the first two letters right. That’s progress!”

From halfway up the ramp, Tech’s voice floated back over his shoulder. “Technically, it is not. Especially considering we’ve made no discernible advancement in two full rotations. And the fact that we just returned from a mission on Corellia should have made that word obvious.”

Then he disappeared into the ship.

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Not unless you wanted to cry out of embarrassment.

Tech didn’t mean to be cruel because that isn’t in his nature. But he didn’t realise how much weight his words carried and how easily they upset you.

Omega was still watching you, lips pressed into a tight, worried line. “You’ll get there,” she said gently. “It takes time, that’s all.”

You exhaled slowly, wiping the back of your neck, now sticky with sweat and heat. “Maybe. But right now… it’s not looking great.”

It had been Tech’s idea to take on the responsibility of teaching you like it was a personal mission ever since the squad had learned that reading Basic wasn’t just a struggle for you, but a near impossibility.

Though, Wrecker and Echo did tell you that they were impressed since it never hindered any mission and they never noticed it being an issue for you.

At first, you were excited. One being that you could finally be able to read a sentence clearly for once by being taught by a complete brain-whizz and two, getting to spend some one on one time with Tech. Because well… you liked him. A lot. You had welcomed the chance to be near him, maybe even impress him.

But now? Now you just felt like dead weight.

These lessons had been going on for a while now and every time you thought you were making progress, he corrected you. When you think you have gotten the hang of it, your hope is snapped like a thin wire. And even though his tone was rarely harsh, the impact landed just the same.

You weren’t sure how much more of it you could take before you self imploded.

🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧

When a few hours had passed and you were covered in dried mud, scraped hands and aching shoulders. Just a small testament to the day’s work. The mudslide had hit the outskirts of the local settlement hard. Homes had caved in, supplies were lost. You, Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega had been on the ground all afternoon, helping wherever you could.

And for a little while, it had helped. Being useful. Doing something physical. Something that didn’t require datapads or deciphering Tech’s disappointment.

Wanting nothing more than to jump onto the Marauder to have a wash, as you climbed the Marauder’s gangplank with your limbs heavy and clothes still damp, the sound of your name halted you just short of the open doorway.

“She’s trying, Tech,” Echo said from inside, his voice low but firm. “I don’t think you realise how hard this is for her.”

“I am aware,” Tech replied curtly. “But effort without measurable progress doesn’t change the result. If she cannot fathom basic reading material after this long, I fail to see the point in continuing the same method.”

Echo exhaled, clearly trying to keep his patience.

There was a pause, and then Tech added:

“I don’t understand how someone who can’t read was cleared to be in this squad. It’s inefficient.”

You didn’t stay to hear more.

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your breath sharp in your throat. Before you could stop yourself, you reached out and grabbed a datapad left near the hatch—someone’s, anyone’s—and turned sharply on your heel, boots pounding against the ramp as you vanished.

Inside the Marauder, Echo’s head turned toward the hatch, catching the blur of movement just as it disappeared.

He frowned. “Was that—?”

“Likely Omega,” Tech said without looking up from his datapad.

Echo didn’t answer. He stared at the doorway a moment longer with a small sliver of doubt.

Then he reached over and plucked the datapad from Tech’s hands.

“There’s nothing wrong with the material,” Tech started, instinctively straightening. “It’s relevant—”

Echo held the pad up and squinted at the screen. “You gave her an economics summary on Corellia’s supply line recovery?”

Tech blinked. “It’s context-based learning. The vocabulary is advanced but rooted in familiar scenarios. Planet names, trade metrics…”

Echo cut him off, reading aloud in a dry tone:

‘Blah, blah, blah… Corellia’s industrial sectors yielded a net increase of 17.3% in hyperlane freight throughput.’

He looked at Tech. “You do remember she’s a beginner, right?”

Tech’s jaw twitched. “Comprehension improves when one is challenged. It’s a proven learning model.”

Echo just stared at him, then gave a slow, knowing smile. “Right. You’re not making it harder so you get more time alone with her or anything.”

Tech shot him a glance. “That’s not what this is.”

“Mm-hmm.” Echo folded his arms. “Just a coincidence you give her material most cadets wouldn’t see until advanced training. And you happen to offer to teach it… one-on-one.”

Tech didn’t answer. Didn’t rise to the bait. But he also didn’t correct him.

You wandered until the forest opened up into a small clearing just outside the village, where a fallen tree had settled along the edge like a broken bench. The air was still, heavy with the scent of wet ground and crushed foliage. You dropped onto the moss-covered trunk, the datapad still clutched in your hand.

For a moment, you just stared at it—its dull, lifeless screen reflecting your muddied reflection back at you. You pressed the activation switch, but the interface was already unlocked. Swiping clumsily, you tried to navigate to something, anything. Maybe one of those Corellian reports Tech was so convinced would teach you context. But the layout made no sense.

Your thumb hovered. You tapped wrong. Backed out. Tried again.

Nothing worked.

And with every failure, that old, tight feeling started rising in your throat like a scream.

Calm down. It’s just a datapad. It’s fine.

But your hands were shaking now, the letters blurring into meaningless shapes.

You grit your teeth, jabbed the screen once more and when it brought up another menu you didn’t know, you let out a rough breath and flung the datapad down into the grass with a thud.

Slumping off the log, you slid to the ground and pulled your knees up to your chest, resting your forehead against them. You didn’t cry. Not really. But your eyes stung. Your chest ached. You were so tired of trying. So tired of hoping and for what? To be called inefficient?

Minutes passed. Then, from somewhere beyond the trees, you heard your name being called.

Your stomach twisted. You knew that voice.

You inhaled slowly through your nose, forcing down the storm of frustration that still bubbled beneath your ribs. You didn’t want to talk to him but you figured that avoiding him now would only make things worse.

“I’m over here, Tech,” you called out, keeping your voice level.

He appeared between the trees moments later, his eyes scanned the clearing until they landed on you, standing now beside the log.

“You wandered off,” he observed plainly. “Omega was not certain where you’d gone.”

“I needed some air,” you said, trying to keep your tone casual.

He took a step closer. “Are you ready for your lesson?”

Your gaze dropped to the ground. “I’m… I don’t want to do another one today.”

Tech blinked, thumb pressing beneath his chin in that thoughtful way he always did when evaluating something... or someone. “Lack of practice results in insufficient performance.”

“Yeah, I get it.” You rubbed your arm, eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m not in the mood to do anything else today. I’m… tired.”

He studied you, his brow furrowing faintly. “I suppose that is reasonable. You were engaged in extensive manual labor for most of the day. Very well. We will resume tomorrow.”

He turned to go but you spoke up, “I don’t want to do it tomorrow either.”

He paused mid-step, looking over his shoulder at you, an eyebrow raised. “And why are you putting off your studies?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. You wanted to tell him. Wanted to throw his words back at him, cut him open like he’d done to you without even knowing. But what was the point?

“I just need a break,” you said instead, keeping your voice even as you play with your fingers.

“We have plenty of free time to continue—”

“I said I wanted a break, Tech,” you snapped, your arms folding tightly across your chest. Your shoulders stiffened as every nerve seemed to buzz.

He blinked again, head tilting slightly. “Your tone suggests there is something else bothering you.”

You looked away, lips tight. “Or someone,” you muttered under your breath.

“What was that?”

“I’m going for a wash,” you said instead, ducking down and snatching up the datapad you’d discarded. You moved to step over the fallen log and held it out to him without looking.

He took it from your hand, confusion still etched into his features. “Were you just using this?”

You let out a tired sigh. “Tried to.”

The next morning passed slowly, the heat thick and relentless even in the early hours. Yourself and the others helped out in the village again —carrying supplies, sorting debris, fetching water—but your heart wasn’t in it today. Your hands worked on muscle memory whilst your mind is elsewhere.

You’d been quiet. Too quiet, apparently because Omega had noticed.

You were sitting beneath a large tree at the edge of the village, the sun flickering through its canopy, offering shade as a gentle breeze stirred the leaves. You were tracing random patterns into the dust with the toe of your boot when Omega plopped down beside you.

She offered a bright smile, hugging her knees to her chest. “Feels nice to be helping people, huh?”

You nodded in reply, smiling faintly. “Yeah.”

She watched you for a moment, rocking slightly as she stared out at the village. “You seem kinda quiet today.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just tired.”

Omega leaned her shoulder into yours, playfully and soft. “You didn’t even complain when Wrecker gave you that heavy crate. That’s how I really knew something was up.”

That got a small chuckle out of you.

She tilted her head. “You and Tech didn’t do your lesson this morning.”

You grimaced before you could stop yourself. “I don’t want to do them anymore.”

Her brows knitted. “Why not? You were doing good yesterday. You almost had Corellia right!”

You stared down at your hands, fingers fiddling with a loose thread on your shirt. “I just… I don’t think I can learn from him.”

Omega blinked, surprised. “Did you tell him that?”

You gave a little shrug, not looking at her. “Not really.”

She fell silent for a moment, thinking. Then, in a hopeful voice, she offered, “Maybe I could help?”

You looked up at her, surprised. “You?”

She nodded eagerly. “Why not? You already got the first letters down before I ruined it yesterday.” She says, “And I bet I could make it more fun than Tech.”

You hesitated at first but truthfully, it was the first time since yesterday you didn’t feel like a complete failure. Omega’s eyes were wide with hope and something that felt a lot like belief.

You smiled, a little uncertain, but it reached your eyes. “Alright. Let’s try it.”

“Great! Stay here!” She shot to her feet before you could ask what she needed.

You expected her to run into the Marauder for a datapad but instead, she ducked underneath the ship’s hull and rummaged around in the loose red soil.

A moment later, she returned triumphantly holding a thick, crooked stick like it was a prized trophy.

“No screens today,” she grinned, “just dirt!”

She crouched low beside you, and with one sweep of her hand, cleared a wide patch of dust between you. Then, with careful, deliberate strokes, she began to write out the alphabet.

“You ready?” she asked, smiling up at you.

You nodded and leaned in beside her, cross-legged.

“Okay. Repeat after me.” She tapped each letter as she said it aloud, slow and clear:

“A… B… C…”

You followed, stumbling a few times, but she didn’t mind. She would just start the whole thing over, patient and gentle. You did it again. And again.

And again.

And again….

Then she covered some of the letters with her hand and pointed to a random one. “What’s this one?”

You hesitated. “Uh… F?”

She shook her head. “Try again.”

You frowned, staring at the rest of the row, mentally replaying her voice in your head. “...G?”

“Yes!” She beamed. “Now this one?”

You pointed. “P?”

She giggled. “That’s a Q. Close though!”

With every repetition, you felt something shift. Like you were actually getting the hang of it.

You started getting more right. You hesitated less. By the time you went through the whole alphabet again, she sat back with a triumphant smile.

“Alright,” she grinned, handing you the stick. “Your turn.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I want you to write my name.”

You laughed nervously. “Omega?”

“Yup! Easy, right?”

“Uh… sure.” You crouched again, stick poised awkwardly in your hand. “Okay… O.”

“Perfect!”

“...M.”

She paused. “Hmm…”

You glanced up as she was pulling a face, lips squished to the side with one eyebrow raised. A funny way to say ‘try again’ without being harsh.

You looked back at the row of letters, furrowing your brow. “Wait… no. That’s N. This is M.”

You corrected yourself and carved it into the dirt.

“Nice!” she beamed. “Keep going!”

It took a few minutes, a few wrong turns, but eventually, you finished all five letters.

“O-M-E-G-A.”

She stared at the letters in the dirt, then at you with wide-eyed glee.

“You did it!”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. Not forced. Not faked. Just real, honest pride.

“Yeah,” you whisper, sitting back. “Guess I did.”

Over the next few days, Tech noticed a pattern.

Every time he approached you about resuming your lessons, you deflected. A quick, polite excuse here. A firm “not today” there. Sometimes you didn’t even look at him when you said it.

At first, he chalked it up to fatigue. You’d been helping the villagers every day; moving debris, rebuilding homes, lifting spirits. But then he started noticing something else.

You were still learning. Just not with him.

From a distance, he saw you under the same wide tree where Omega first brought the stick and drew the letters in the dirt. She was sitting beside you, her arms moving in animated gestures as she pointed at something in the soil. You were watching her, laughing. Your smile was so bright it nearly startled him.

He tilted his head, hands folded behind his back as he watched the exchange from across the field. You used to smile during his lessons too. The first day, you’d grinned when you got your first word right.

He remembered it well.

In fact… he had the recording saved. Privately.

He’d downloaded the footage from his goggles later that night, under the guise of reviewing your reading pattern. But really, he’d wanted to see your smile again. The way your eyes lit up, the little wrinkle in your nose when you laughed.

But slowly, through each lesson, that smile faded. Replaced by hesitation. Then frustration. Then silence.

And now you were smiling again. Just not at him.

That afternoon, while you were away with Hunter and Echo, Tech approached Omega, who was fiddling with the stabiliser plate under the Marauder’s wing.

“May I speak with you for a moment?”

Omega blinked up at him, wiping a bit of grease from her cheek. “Sure!”

He adjusted his goggles. “It’s about her… reading progress. Has she been improving?”

Omega lit up. “Oh yeah! She’s doing so well. She even wrote my name in the dirt without help the other day!”

He nodded slowly, filing away the information. “I see. That is… impressive.”

Omega tilted her head then shrugged. “She said she might try reading a ration label next.”

Tech blinked. “Ration labels?”

“Yep! Said she wants to know what she’s eating before Wrecker makes her try it.” She giggled, then paused. “Why? You don’t think she can learn from me?”

“I did not say that,” he replied quickly, perhaps a bit too stiffly. “I merely did not know what… qualities you might offer that I lacked.”

Omega gave him a long look, then shrugged. “I guess I’m just more fun than you.”

Tech frowned. “Most likely.”

She smirked, but then the teasing faded, and she turned more serious. “She didn’t stop lessons with you because she doesn’t want to learn. She just… got upset.”

Tech’s brows drew together. “Upset? With me?”

Omega nodded, biting her lip. “She told me that she heard something. Well, she overheard you. You were on the ship talking to Echo about her.”

Tech’s mind reeled back. He’d said many things to Echo over the course of those conversations—some blunt, some logical, most private. “I did not say anything bad.”

Omega gave him a tight look. “You told me that she heard you say that it was ‘inefficient’ for her to be on the team because she couldn’t read.”

Tech opened his mouth, paused, then exhaled sharply.

“Ah,” he said at last. Perhaps that came out harsher than he intended.

He hadn’t yelled at you. He hadn’t scolded you. He never once implied you weren’t trying. But now, playing back through someone else’s voice, his words sounded callous.

Omega watched his face, seeing the moment it clicked.

“If it makes you feel better,” Omega started softly, “She doesn’t think you meant it, but it still hurt her. That’s why she’s been sad.”

Tech’s voice was quiet. “I see.”

Omega studied him for a beat. “You really didn’t mean it?”

He hesitated but only for a moment. “No,” he said sincerely. “I believe I was frustrated with myself. Not her. And the lesson was overly advanced. Echo pointed that out.”

Tech sighed through his nose, adjusting his gloves. “I believe I may have allowed my feelings to affect my judgment.”

Omega looks startled. “Your feelings?” She teased.

He looked away. “It is irrelevant.”

But Omega was already grinning. “You like her.”

He adjusted his goggles again, silent but not dismissive.

“I knew it.”

Tech rolled his eyes but then a thought clicked. “Did she inform you of anything else she heard? Possibly regarding my… feelings?”

Omega shook her head, “Nope, but maybe you should speak to her about that to her face.”

🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧

You sat by the old log again, your knees tucked up loosely and your fingers picking at a loose thread on your pants. The sun had started to shift, casting longer shadows across the clearing. Omega was supposed to meet you soon and today's lesson would be under the trees for a change of scenery. Actually she was the one who suggested it, thinking you might like some quiet after spending so much time helping the villagers.

A twig snapped in the distance, and you smiled softly. "Omega?" you called, turning your head toward the sound.

But when the figure stepped through the trees, your breath caught in your throat.

It wasn’t Omega. It was Tech.

He moved towards you, eyes scanning the area until they landed on you. His expression was neutral and composed. Then, you swear that his gaze softened.

You scrambled to your feet, trying to act casual even as your stomach twisted. “Oh—uh, is Hunter looking for me? Do I need to head back to the village?”

Tech shook his head, stopping a few feet from you. “No. The situation there is under control. Echo and Wrecker are assisting, and Omega is occupied with another matter.”

You hesitated. “…So… you’re here instead of her?”

“Yes,” he said plainly. “I thought it appropriate that we talk, also.”

Your stomach sank a little, and you dropped your gaze to your boots, toeing the dirt. “I, um… I’m sorry I didn’t come and tell you I was dropping your lessons.”

“There is no need to apologise,” he replied, his voice measured but… gentler than you expected. “In retrospect, I recognise that my methods were poorly suited to your learning stage. I attempted to teach you material that was far too advanced, and for that, I take full responsibility.”

You looked up slowly, your throat a little tight. “I don’t think I’m ready now either,” you admitted, your voice low.

“That’s perfectly alright,” Tech said simply. “I did not come to resume formal instruction. I only wish to observe what Omega has already taught you.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. His shoulders weren’t tense, and there was no datapad in his hands. He looked reasonably patient which wasn’t what you had been used to.

You still hesitated. But then, he smiled and Maker, your knees almost crumbled beneath you. Curse him for being annoyingly adorable.

“S-sure,” you stammered eventually, barely managing a nod.

He stepped forward and sat beside the log without another word, resting his arms on his knees. You sat back down with him and instinctively held your hand out, ready to ask for the datapad, but Tech gently shook his head.

“Omega mentioned that using the ground has helped you more visually. I see no reason to change a method that has been working.”

You blinked at him, genuinely surprised. “You’re… being very lenient.”

“I’m being adaptable,” he corrected, though the corners of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile again.

You couldn’t help but return a small one of your own. “Alright… what would you like me to do?”

Tech reached into one of his belt pouches and pulled out a long, clean stick—clearly chosen specifically for this.

“Please write out the basic alphabet for me,” he said, offering it to you.

You took it and then you turned toward the dirt, drew a steadying breath, before lowering the stick.

Crouched beside the alphabet you'd just drawn in the dirt, Tech had his hands loosely clasped together. He said nothing as you finished the last letter, and though a part of you itched for his input, he simply observed in silence.

You weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

After a moment, he reached into one of his belt pouches again and carefully pulled out a folded stack of flimsi. “Omega prepared some simple quotes,” he explained. “Short phrases. Easier to process at this stage than full documents.”

He handed them over, and you took them carefully, the thin sheets a little crinkled at the edges from being carried around. You glanced down.

The first said: “Wrecker is loud.”

You gave a small huff through your nose.

The second: “Hunter smells like the forest.”

You smiled faintly. You could hear Omega’s voice in your head. As you read them out, slowly but surely, you see Tech nodding beside you with each word you get right.

The third said: “The moon is big.”

Tech, predictably, cleared his throat. “Technically, that is a misleading generalisation. There are thousands of celestial bodies classified as moons, and their size varies depending on the system. Some are smaller than a standard transport—”

You didn’t look up, but your smile widened all the same. You could practically feel the lecture coming.

You kept reading, fumbling only on a couple of the trickier words. The pace was slow, but steady. You were halfway through the last sheet when Tech said, quite suddenly:

“I’m impressed.”

You paused.

Your eyes stayed on the flimsi, but your expression changed. His voice had been gentle, even sincere—but for some reason… it didn’t land the way it used to. Not like before, when any praise from Tech would have lit you up inside.

You slowly lowered the flimsi. “You don’t have to lie to me,” you murmured.

Tech tilted his head slightly, brows drawing together. “I am not lying. I am genuinely impressed by how quickly you’ve picked up the basics. Your progress is tangible.”

But still, you didn’t look up. The compliment just didn’t feel real. Or maybe it felt too late.

There was a long pause before he spoke again.

“It has come to my attention,” he begins carefully, “that you may have overheard a conversation I had with Echo… a few days ago.”

You went still. Your grip on the flimsi tightened slightly. It was not something you wanted to talk about but supposedly getting it out in the open was better than letting it tear you up inside. And judging by Tech’s quieter approach, it was tearing him up too.

You gave a single nod, still not meeting his gaze. “I don’t want to be inefficient to you.”

Tech didn’t respond right away.

Instead, you felt the flimsi gently slip from your hand. He set them then shifted, turning his body slightly more toward you.

You let out a slight exhale when you felt his hand brush against your wrist. Just a light, uncertain touch that was enough to draw your attention.

You turned toward him slowly, sitting up straighter.

“Your strength,” he utters quietly, “has never been in what you already know… but in how determined you are to learn. That’s something even I struggle with.”

You stared at him, lips parted slightly. Your cheeks prickled with heat at the unexpected praise. He didn’t sound like he was saying it just to fix things, he genuinely meant it. “And I am sorry for what you heard. I often say things without thinking of the possible repercussions.

“…Thank you,” you reply softly, voice barely louder than the breeze through the trees.

Tech’s hand withdrew from your wrist, but his gaze lingered, as if searching your expression for more unspoken feelings. After a moment, he cleared his throat gently and adjusted his posture.

“Would you like to resume your lessons with me?” he asked.

You looked at him, your heart still thudding a little too hard. But this time, the words came easily, bright with something lighter than before.

“Yes,” you say quickly, with more eagerness than you meant to let on. “I—I’d like that.”

A flicker of something passed over Tech’s face. Maybe relief. He reached beside him and picked up the remaining flimsis from the small stack, selecting a fresh one before handing it over to you.

“Then let us continue,” he said, voice returning to that familiar cadence you knew; firm, but encouraging.

You straightened up and took the flimsi with both hands, your eyes scanning the first line.

“Wrecker… eats… all… the rations.”

Tech gave a soft snort. “That one may be based on an actual occurrence.”

You smiled and read on. The next was simple too, and the one after that. Occasionally, you stumbled. When you did, Tech didn’t chide—he simply leaned in, pointing softly to the word with a gloved fingertip, his voice low and patient.

“Try this syllable first—yes, exactly. Now the next.”

You did your best to focus on the letters but it was difficult. When he leaned that close, all cognitive thinking was out of the window. His shoulder brushed yours now and then and you could smell the faint metallic tang of his gear, mixed with the sharp scent of oil and a tinge of light sweat. However there was something else entirely him. Every time he moved nearer, your stomach fluttered like a startled flock of birds.

You were just getting into a good rhythm when you picked up the next flimsi from the pile. you could tell even before you started reading that this one was Omega’s doing.

Still, you gave it your best shot.

“Tech… has… fe-…”

You frowned, squinting at the next letters.

“Fe-el… fe-lin… no—”

Your voice trailed off as Tech suddenly reached forward and plucked the flimsi right from your hands, holding it out of view with alarmingly fast reflexes.

“That one,” he said stiffly, “was a mistake. Omega must have included it by error.”

You blinked at him. “I was just starting to get it. I saw both our names.”

He faltered. “Yes, well. She must have been… testing your recognition skills.”

Your frown deepened as you leaned slightly, trying to peer around his shoulder. “What did it say? I recognised ‘Tech’ and my name. But not the rest.”

He looked mildly horrified, holding the flimsi higher as if you might leap up and grab it. “It was… structurally inconsistent.”

“…With what?”

“With the lesson plan.”

You raised an eyebrow, slowly. “So it didn’t not say something?”

Tech cleared his throat, looking up at the sky as though he might find a convenient distraction there. “We should return to the prior reading. I believe you were progressing well.”

Your lips twitched. Despite the warm burn in your cheeks and the racing questions spinning in your head, a flicker of amusement bloomed in your chest. Because Tech was very clearly flustered.

And for once, you weren’t the only one stumbling over your words.

“I believe we should return to the lesson,” Tech resumes, voice slightly higher than usual as a flush creeps up his neck.

You bit your tongue on a grin, letting him have the diversion. For now.

“Fine. But I’ve been struggling with something.”

Tech adjusted his goggles, “Yes?”

“It’s the ‘oo’ sounds,” you said, fiddling with the stick in your hand. “Like… how do I know if it’s pronounced like in ‘book’ or ‘moon’? They look the same to me.”

“Ah,” Tech said, pleased to be back in familiar territory. “That is a very common challenge, even for native speakers of Basic. It is primarily about memorisation, but there are contextual cues…”

He gestured as he spoke, one hand drawing invisible words in the air, the other occasionally flicking toward the dusty alphabet he'd helped you draw earlier. His brow creased adorably in concentration, and it was then that you realised you’d stopped listening to the explanation. Completely.

You were watching him . Watching the way he talked, how his whole body became animated with his words.

It hit you all at once. That same warm flutter you’d felt during your very first lesson with him. When it was just you, and him, and a thousand ways he accidentally made your heart beat faster.

“Tech,” you cut in suddenly, blinking yourself back to focus. “What did Omega write?”

His hand froze mid-gesture. Slowly, his eyes widened behind his goggles. “I… do not believe that is relevant to the lesson.”

Your eyes narrowed with a teasing smirk. “That wasn’t a no.”

He shuffled slightly, edging away as if he was guilty of something.

That was all the confirmation you needed.

You lunged.

He yelped in a surprised sort of way as you dove over his lap, trying to reach the hidden flimsi. “This is not going to help with your literacy!” he protested, trying to fend you off with one arm as he reached behind him with the other.

“Oh, I think it might,” you laughed breathlessly, dodging his elbow and scrambling after the paper. “Consider it a very interactive learning experience!”

“I must protest—!” he began, but you’d already tangled yourself half across him, your fingers grazing the edge of the flimsi just before—

He rolled.

One quick movement and your world flipped, quite literally. Your back presses into the warm ground as he pinned you there. Tech hovered over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other knocking the flimsi just out of reach again.

You stilled.

He stilled.

Both of you froze in the silence that followed, hearts pounding. It wasn't from the mock wrestling, but from the fact that now Tech was so close. His goggles were slightly askew, and the wild fluster in his expression was undeniable.

Neither of you spoke. Not at first. Your hands were still tangled in the folds of his armour, his knee pressing into the dirt beside your hip, his weight above you holding you firmly in place.

“…This is also not helping with your literacy,” he said finally.

“I really didn’t mean to upset you,” he then speaks quietly, breath catching halfway through.

Your own voice was soft when you answered. “It’s okay. I’ve had two really good teachers.”

The wind picked up gently, brushing strands of hair across your face, and carrying with it the flimsis that had been scattered beside the log. You didn’t even notice them dancing away at first, neither of you willing to look anywhere else but at each other.

Your gaze broke from his however when a pale scrap fluttered to the ground just beside your hip, its scrawled ink catching your eye.

And you read it aloud before you could think twice.

“‘Tech has feelings… for…’” you read slowly, your breath catching, “f-for… y-you.”

Silence followed.

Tech didn’t speak.

Didn’t even correct your pronunciation.

Instead, his eyes dropped from yours, and you watched as the heat crept up his neck, blooming across his ears. He cleared his throat, the motion stiff and unconvincing. “That… appears to be the one Omega wrote.”

Your heart thudded. You didn’t know what to do at first or what to say. You had dreamed of hearing those words, but somehow reading them yourself felt like a different kind of victory.

Slowly, you reached for the hand he’d braced beside your head, your fingers brushing his. There was hesitation in your touch, and something in it made him glance up, brows drawn.

“I have feelings for you too,” you said softly, carried on a nervous breath.

He stared at you with those beautiful wide eyes, clearly stunned. “You… do?”

A warm laugh slipped out of you. “I do.”

And before you could say anything else, before you could even process the shift in his gaze, Tech slid an arm around your back and pulled you upright with unexpected, fluid strength.

You gasped as you landed squarely in his lap, eyes wide, your hands flying instinctively to his shoulders. “Tech!” you squeaked.

But his hands found your waist, firm but gentle, grounding you again.

He was impossibly close now. Goggles still a little wonky, breathing slightly elevated. “I believe,” he starts softly, “I no longer require you to read aloud whether I may kiss you.”

A grin tugged at your lips, heart hammering as your fingers brushed the curve of his cheek and then carefully fixing his goggles. “Well,” you murmured, barely more than a breath, “I don’t mind at all.”

The kiss met you halfway, tentative for a moment, then deepening with quiet certainty. His lips were soft, tasting of sunlight and stored-up longing, his hand moving to cradle the back of your neck like you were something rare, fragile and cherished.

And as the trees whispered overhead and a forgotten scrap of flimsi fluttered past your boots, all thoughts of lessons, of hesitation, of past hurt all melted away.

The lesson was over.

But something else had only just begun

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tentakelspektakel @stellarbit @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @photogirl894 @the-bad-batch-baroness @lulalovez

#tech Tuesday #tech x reader #tbb tech #tech the bad batch x reader #tech x you #bad batch tech x reader #the bad batch tech #tech the bad batch #the bad batch #tbb #nahoney22 writes

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tanobatcher · 2 months ago

Note

First off, your writing is *chef kiss* 🤌🏻

Could you write a mega soft Tech fic where Y/N deals with overstimulation/panic attack/anxiety post-mission? Have him still be his analytical, proper self but have him deeply understand the need for physical comfort/intimacy in these moments. Grounding, hugs, forehead kisses, hand-holding, head-to-chest, etc. ❤️

solitude

tech x gn reader summary: tech comforts you after a difficult mission. warnings: none a/n: hehe tysm i sincerely apologize for the delay on this :((

The faucet sputters before a jet of water rushes over your palms, cold and striking like the struggled gasp that heaves your chest as you hang your head low in front of the bathroom mirror. You can hardly breathe through the quick splashes you try to drown yourself in, muffling any noise heard beyond the closed door behind you. But the noise in your head grows louder, and it feels dizzy like you’re out of balance. Like the floor is slowly but surely caving below your feet, luring you toward an inescapable darkness.

Coming back up for air, you brace your hands on either side of the tiny sink while still panting in waves that overtake the previous with no mercy. It’s hard to keep yourself upright when your legs are close to giving out, shaking like the rest of you. You don’t notice when the door opens, but seeing a figure in the mirror triggers the impending drop of your stomach. It’s not exhilarating like entering or leaving hyperspace. It’s just awful, squeezing out your sanity as this pain ebbs and flows through your blood. There’s no open wound to explain this feeling, though. Only your own mind as it traps unwanted memories inside of you.

“You’re needed at the bridge,” you hear over a methodical sound of fingers against a screen, “Hunter’s orders.”

“Can he give me a minute?”

You attempt to sound irritated, but all Tech hears is exhaustion. Your voice is small, devoid of its usual energy and strength. He looks up from his datapad, wide-eyed with curiosity rather than immediate concern, until you lean over the sink on the verge of collapse. Nausea sinks its claws into your throat as the world spins, but it’s really just you losing sight of what’s in front of you. You hardly register when your knees buckle, even more unaware when he surges forward, even though this bathroom isn’t big enough for more than one person at a time. The sound of his datapad clattering to the ground is jarring, but not nearly as much as the sudden weight of his arms around you. He sinks to the floor without letting go of you, holding you to his chest.

“Let go,” you mumble, squirming slightly before a restless thrash jerks your entire body, “Please. I can’t—”

He turns you so that you’re now facing him, loosening his grip on your shoulders. You’re not sure what’s preventing you from seeing clearly—the water from the sink or your own tears—but one pair of eyes remains clear among the haze. They’re brown and kind, and they look at you as if knowing what’s passing through your mind right now.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you sob, “I’m not like the rest of you. I can’t pretend I’m not scared shitless when things go wrong like that—”

Uncharacteristically wordless, Tech brings a soft cloth to your face and wipes both carefully and patiently. He’s not looking at you directly anymore, almost avoiding your gaze as your shaky breaths interrupt your rambling. His mouth twitches nervously when he pauses his movements near your lips, deciding not to clean you there. Leaning back a little, he asks, “What gave you the impression that this isn’t difficult for us, too?”

“Huh?” You whisper weakly, glancing up at him.

He purses his lips before shaking his head. “You’re in shock. Hunter’s request isn’t as urgent as he makes it sound, so I’ll inform him of your inability to—”

“What? No—” You try to stand as panic seizes your lungs, “I’m fine. I just—I just need a minute—”

He stares at you when you slump back to the ground while mumbling, “I’m fine. It’s fine—stop looking at me like that.”

Your hands come around your head, covering your ears from the echoing screams that feel so near with how loud you hear them. It doesn’t seem like you’re safe on the Marauder when your mind remains on the battlefield, worn down and afraid after constant survival.

“Stop,” you bite out even though his presence has been made so minimal that you almost forget he’s still here, “Just stop—”

You cut yourself off in surprise when he pries your arms away before tentatively cupping your face. His fingers aren’t fully touching your skin, hovering with caution, but you feel the cool sensation as light as it is. A teardrop rolling down your cheek catches against his thumb, which he catches in a swift outward motion. You look at him with uncertainty, leaning away from his touch despite how safe it feels. But when he asks, “Would you mind if I held you for a moment?” you answer by closing your eyes and giving in to the tension trembling through your body. It loosens and relaxes, allowing you to go limp in his responding embrace once he feels your compliance.

His heartbeat is strong against your back as you release the excess of your cries, swallowing hard with increasing desperation for air. You listen for this rhythm subconsciously until he says, “Breathe at my pace.” So you do, following his calm inhales just to exhale everything back out with him.

“Tell me five things you can see.”

You open your eyes in narrow slits, barely letting the light above your head infiltrate your vision. “Um…the ceiling…the walls…the sink…the mirror…”

“One more.”

Lowering your head a bit, your hands find his as they rest against your torso. “And…you.”

He’s quiet for a beat before continuing, “Now, four things you can touch.”

“Um,” you take a deep breath and feel your surroundings, “The floor.”

“My clothes,” you fist your rumpled jacket, “Um…the wall again. Right here.”

“And…you,” comes the last whisper.

His posture stiffens behind you, but he doesn’t let go of your body. “Three things you can hear.”

Your eyes flutter shut again to focus, and it sinks in that you truly are back on the Marauder with your squad. Familiar voices outside of the bathroom begin to trickle through your guarded attention, giving you the answers you hardly need to think about.

“Hunter, Wrecker, Crosshair,” you list, “And you.”

“That was four.”

“I know.”

“Hm,” he replies skeptically, “Two things you can smell.”

A brief chuckle slips out without hesitation. “You.”

“Is that humorous to you?” He retorts with an edge of defensiveness seeping into his tone.

“We just got back from a mission, so…”

“So, you mean to insult me.”

“No,” you lean back into his chest, “Never.”

He sighs before telling you, “You still need one more for your response to be considered complete.”

“Um…” you wrinkle your nose, “Me, I guess. I need a shower, too.”

“It’s tolerable,” he says a little haughtily.

“Lucky me,” you hum, thinking that’s the last of his interrogation.

He proves you otherwise when you hear, “One thing you can taste. If anything, at the moment.”

“I guess…” you take a moment to think, “The caf you made us this morning.”

“That was several hours ago. I highly doubt you still—“

“It’s my final answer,” you release a conclusive breath and fall silent, wishing you could stay tucked away in this little corner forever. In his arms, really. There’s a comforting solitude in this moment that will soon be disrupted by the responsibilities waiting just outside the door, with the rest of your life. You surprise him when you take his hand and drape it over your heartbeat, feeling the steadying thump together. In a way, he takes this as a sign of your gratitude. So he responds with a gentle kiss to your temple, leaving his lips pressed against your skin instead of pulling away.

You shift in his arms to face him more clearly, trapped between his long legs that don’t fit well in this small space. Still, you manage, and his eyes cast away from yours again. He looks at your joined hands, lifting them higher until his lips brush against your knuckles with the same softness as before.

“I understand,” he murmurs, “Thinking you’ve reached your limit.”

“You do?” You whisper, finding it difficult to believe someone as knowledgeable as him would ever need to doubt himself.

He nods once, meeting your eyes with a flash of hesitance. “We all do. I believe that makes you more like us than you think.”

“I don’t know. You could be wrong…about me.”

His eyebrows briefly raise at this, but his expression is neutral when he explains, “There’s nothing abnormal about your reaction today. What you’re experiencing isn’t uncommon to the rest of us, even if you’re not aware of it.”

You squeeze his hand, noticing the heavy implication in his tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you needed help.”

“Your apology is unnecessary. I only meant...that you’re not alone.”

“I never feel alone,” you tell him honestly, touching your forehead to his, “Not when I’m with you, at least.”

He leans into you, too, lacing your fingers together. “Then we’re in agreement.”

You smile and close your eyes after seeing that he’s done the same. Anything you might have said in response falls away from your tongue, saving itself for another time. For now, you simply breathe at his pace, finding it easier to keep up now that the eruption of your fears is a figment of the past. And if it returns as it always does, you’re sure that he’ll find you where you need him to. You're confident that he'll know exactly what to do.

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