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sinfulsalutations · 10 months ago

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𝕨𝕖𝕚𝕣𝕕 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕗𝕦𝕔𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕦𝕝 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕖𝕔𝕙

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ᴛᴇᴄʜ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

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

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

➼ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ☆ 10ᴋ (ᴜʜʜʜʜʜʜ ᴏᴏᴘꜱ)

➼ ᴘᴏᴠ ☆ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ

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

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

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

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

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

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

Tech isn’t a believer in fate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey there stranger,” you greet playfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That makes more sense.

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

“How is she doing?” You ask.

“She’s doing well.”

You smile. “I’m glad.”

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

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

You couldn’t be the cause, could you?

It’s something about you, isn’t it?

That can’t be right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You flash a smile, more bitter than before.

“So did I,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tech shakes his head adamantly, immediately.

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

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

Tech tilts his head.

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

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

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

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

“She talks to me and Echo just fine.”

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

“Yeah! Make some friends, Tech!”

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

“Who said I want to make friends?”

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

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

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

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

You shake your head loosely with a shrug.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You turn, surprise etched into your expression.

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Lapdogs?”

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

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

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

Only because… Only because…

“I’ll try,” Tech says.

You smile, warm and friendly and alien.

“I’ll see you, Tech.”

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

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

Rather, you probe him yourself.

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

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

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

“What are you researching this time?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You huff.

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

Tech raises an eyebrow. Your smile widens.

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

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

Only because… Only because…

Why don’t I know?

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

“Let’s play,” you say.

Tech nods stiffly.

“Let’s.”

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

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

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

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

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

Tech shrugs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug.

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

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

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

“Another game?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He licks his lips with no aim.

“...Oh.”

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

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

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

Only because… Only because…

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

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

“All attackers have to be strategic.”

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

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

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

You huff, exasperated; or maybe amused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyebrows perk up.

“Well then, please continue, Tech.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tech’s eyebrows push together.

“ Lunging? ”

You laugh teasingly, but not unkindly.

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

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

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

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

Only because…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only because… Only because…

“Tech?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not what I meant.”

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

“I don’t understand.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leave my comfort zone?

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

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

“Sounds good.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello,” is his opener.

Real smooth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head rapidly.

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

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

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

You nod, rerouting back to your initial question.

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

Tech hums.

“I have.”

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

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

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

“I can try.”

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

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

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

“Many people do.”

You fool.

But you don’t seem to notice.

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

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

“That’s… Not an uncommon experience.”

You tilt your head, considering his words for yourself.

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

“Protection?”

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

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

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

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

“Dumb?” you ask.

Tech shakes his head automatically.

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

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

“I’m glad you think that.”

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

So he’s unsure what compels him.

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

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

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

Tech regains his composure quickly, readjusting his goggles.

“Then let’s leave.”

You raise your eyebrows. Tech nods again.

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

“I’m not sure.”

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

“C’mon,” you grin, “I know a place.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I see.”

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

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

You shrug, lament, as though disappointed in yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You continue, unaffected by Tech’s neurotic mentation.

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

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

“Nalvage.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

“Three and a half years.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that right?” You ask.

Tech nods.

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

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

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

“We did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you remember me?” He asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tech just shakes his head.

“I don’t believe in fate.”

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

“Coincidence, then.”

Tech shakes his head.

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

“What phenomenon?” You ask.

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

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

It appears so.

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

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

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

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

Finally, you break the silence.

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

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

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

“You’d like to figure out… together?”

You nod.

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

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

“Then we shall.”

Both can exist.

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

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

Tech hums with a purse of his lips.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

Tech tilts his head.

“What is it?”

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

“Would you kiss me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was exceptional.”

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

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

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clu-ven · 1 year ago

Text

The Bad Batch discovering you stayed loyal to Empire HCs

2.7k words !

The jungle is coloured in hues of silver, the overhead canopy filtering in just enough moonlight to see. Despite hearing the Marauder flying above, he can’t see the ship yet and thus, the chase is still on.

Branches crack under his heavy boots. Vines sway as he sprints past them. He can feel his lungs burn but he ignores it, urging his body onwards.

He knows you're closing in. Well, he doesn’t know you are… whenever he manages to glance behind as he runs, all the clone sees is the new assassin sent by the Empire gaining on him.

He follows the instructions that are hurriedly given through his comm. “Just another few metres and there’s a clearing, we’ll get you there!” his brother’s voice assures him. It doesn’t seem like a difficult task but as he stumbles out onto the clearing and realises it’s a cliff edge, things become interesting.

You know better than to run straight out after him and instead opt to stay close to the tree line. As the Marauder hovers closer to him, a sigh escapes your lips.

Maybe you won’t be able to capture him this time but as he looks back at you, you decide to take off your helmet and show him exactly who this new assassin is...

HUNTER

Hunter thought the Empire couldn’t hurt him anymore. But here you are. He presumed he lost you a long time ago but now you’re standing in front of him, a slight scowl darkening your face as you stand your ground.

For a moment, Hunter forgets that he’s just a few feet away from escaping this close encounter. All of his thoughts are consumed by you. How are you still alive? And why are you working for the Empire?!

He says your name in a mere whisper, the engines of the ship behind him easily drowning out his words. But you don’t need to hear his words to know how Hunter feels.

There is a look of misery and regret in Hunter’s eyes, a sad acceptance of things that could have gone a different way.

You know this is your chance. He’s completely vulnerable, shock distracting him from his hypervigilant senses. If you wanted to take the shot, this was your chance… but you don’t. Instead you simply stare, a feeling you thought you long buried rising within you.

If this happened when the Batch first strayed from the Empire, before they truly knew the cruel dictatorship they were up against, Hunter would have offered you his hand and tried his best to convince you to come with them.

But now? This far into the tyranny of the Empire? It’s a painful realisation but Hunter knows you’ve already chosen a side. He’s already been through the turmoil of this with Crosshair, he can’t go through that again just for you to reject his help.

Hunter knows that leaving the Empire has to be a decision you make. Not him.

And so Hunter makes his escape, grabbing onto the rope Wrecker has thrown down for him. He knows this won’t be the last time you two meet, and he knows you’re letting him go on purpose.

Hunter knows you too well and he knows that you could have fought harder if you wanted to.

Slowly watching as you turn back and retreat into the darkness of the jungle, Hunter sighs, hoping that maybe the you he knows and lov-… *ahem*, the you he knows is still in there somewhere, deep deep down.

WRECKER

Wrecker smiles when he spots you but that quickly turns to shock and sadness. Looking back at the others on the ship, Wrecker gives them a confused look that reads ‘are you seeing what I’m seeing?!’. Wrecker is every emotion.

After all this time apart, you’re right in front of him and yet you’re not. Wrecker’s smile slowly dims, his initial joy slowly fading as he comes to the realisation that it was you chasing him through the jungle so ferociously.

Wrecker’s face grows sullen. How has it come to this? He doesn’t understand but he knows this isn’t you. It can’t be! You must’ve gone through the same treatment as Crosshair or maybe they have something they’re using against you.

He refuses to believe you’re doing this because you want to and so against his better judgement, Wrecker ignores the shouts of his brothers to retreat and heads straight for you.

With renewed determination, Wrecker manages to dodge a few of your attacks. He tries to disarm you without actually hurting you.

He can’t just leave you here, not when you’re like this and in the Empire’s grasp. Wrecker would never forgive himself if he leaves without you.

Despite having trained with you in the past, this is a completely different experience. This isn’t sparring. This is a fight. You slash your blade through the air each time he nears you, Wrecker moving as swiftly as he can. You’re like a wild animal being cornered, your eyes darting around as you try to maintain the upper hand.

The Marauder lowers to the ground as Hunter and Crosshair jump out, ready to help their brother (and to also make sure Wrecker doesn’t get himself killed).

With their help, Wrecker manages to disarm you... and he may have accidentally knocked you unconscious too. He swears he didn’t mean to put you in a headlock that tight! But honestly, it’s probably a happy accident that’ll make this a lot easier.

Even though the others are dubious about having you on the ship, Wrecker is adamant that they have to help you and make you see what the Empire truly is. You would have done the same for any of them and so it’s only right that they help you now.

With AZI scanning you for any serious injuries (or microchips), Wrecker sits beside you and patiently waits for you to awake, his head hanging low as he tries to come to terms with this new revelation.

ECHO

Seeing you again is like defeating impossible odds and it makes Echo come to a sudden realisation. The moment is an unexpected one, yet somehow deeply familiar.

Echo wonders if this is how Rex felt when he realised Echo was still alive and on Skako Minor.

He wants to reach out to you, to offer you his hand... but he doesn’t. Instead, Echo hesitates. The powerful urge to act on his impulse lingers for a moment before rational thinking catches up to his heart and he stops himself.

He can’t help it as his concern grows for you. The unfortunate thing is, Echo knows that you might not even want his help. Maybe it’s too late and Echo wouldn’t be able to sway you from your stance in all of this.

Echo is still plagued by how he was forced to help the Separatist forces during the war and so much of the concern he feels for you stems from his dreary past.

Slowly taking a few steps in your direction, Echo approaches you with caution. He’s careful to maintain a constant vigilance over your hands and movements, being aware of how quickly this could go wrong. He tries to ask why you’re with the Empire, if you’re aware of what they’re doing to the clones.

Echo knows that you care about the clones, or that at least you did at some point. Even if your beliefs have changed, he’s confident you would never stand for what the Empire is doing to his brothers. If he can just get you to hear him out, then he’s certain you can both get to some sort of an understanding.

The last thing Echo wants to do is argue, especially with how high tensions are. Echo knows you. Of course he does. You two have been through so much. And so he knows that all he needs to do is fill you in on the mistreatment of the clones and you’ll turn your back on the Empire… right?

Despite the fact that you were just chasing him, Echo doesn't want this to be a “you vs him” sort of thing. If you listen to him and open your eyes to what the Empire truly is, then Echo can assure you that with some time, you can be brought into the fold of the rebellion. This isn’t the end and he assures you that any trust that may have faltered can be restored.

Of course Echo wants you to join them immediately, hence why he initially went to offer you his hand. But for that to actually happen, he needs to see some sort of cooperation from you, whether that be a plea for help, you lowering your weapons to the ground or simply engaging in conversation when he informs you about the clones.

If you choose to go with them, Echo would call for some back up from the ship, reassuring you as Hunter and Wrecker join him. It’s only a precaution in case some kind of sleeper agent training activates. It’s going to take a while for them to trust you again so be prepared for a lot of “precautions”.

But if you choose to stay with the Empire? Well, at least Echo knows he tried.

TECH

Tech should have seen this coming. The Empire’s latest play of deploying assassins to hunt them down has resulted in an essential need for stealth.

Not only is that one of your strong suits but your great track record and prior relationship with the Batch makes you the perfect candidate to locate and eliminate them. In hindsight, Tech feels as though you were the obvious choice.

Tech contemplates holding his ground against you but with the Marauder so close, he realises that retreating is the most logical option. He is mindful of his movements, slowly taking steps backwards as to not startle you or trigger you into action.

After hearing about how the Empire’s harsh ways of conditioning people, Tech is aware that whatever they may have subjected you to may have drastically changed you. The likelihood that you might not be the you Tech once knew is unfortunately high.

Tech's mindset is one of caution and pragmatism, balancing the risks and benefits of each option. So while he would ideally want you to lay down your weapons and come with them peacefully, he needs to think about his brother’s and Omega’s safety; something that could be jeopardised further if you joined them.

Not only would you joining them cause potential problems for them, but Tech is conscious of how that would endanger you too.

What if you’re chipped with a tracker? Would the Empire be able to track you down easily, and thus them too? He refuses to make such an impulsive decision and ask you to come with them.

In an ideal world, this would never happen. You would never be with the Empire. But here you are, and this is something Tech isn’t going to dismiss simply because he thought you were a close ally back in the day.

Once Tech is sure he’s close enough to the ship, he swiftly boards the platform. You watch the ship slowly rise higher and higher, the look on your face one that Tech is unable to read.

Before he loses sight of you, Tech gives you a simple nod. It’s not a nod of respect - how can it be when you’re doing the Empire’s dirty work?! - but it is one of recognition. Recognition of what was once between you both as well as the familiarity of an old pawn of the Republic seeing a new pawn of the Empire.

He needs to think, to analyse this new development. Tech remains calm as the Marauder soars away from you and through hyperspace. The others all speak over each other at this new development but Tech is quiet.

Right now, his main concern is to come up with potential ways of meeting you again in hopefully less hostile circumstances and to find out what exactly is going on.

CROSSHAIR

Crosshair wishes this was a surprise to him. But honestly? You and him were always close, having a deeper understanding of each other than most. And so if the Empire was able to keep him for so long then he unfortunately sees how they’ve been able to keep their grasp on you too.

He takes a moment to analyse your stillness. You’re simply standing there, watching; as if you’re waiting for him to make the first move.

Despite the scowl on your face, Crosshair acknowledges that you haven’t moved for your blaster yet. Perhaps you’re conflicted?

You took off your helmet for a reason. You wanted him to know that it’s you. For Crosshair, that’s enough to deduce that maybe you’re doubting the Empire and the mission they’ve given you.

If there’s anyone who can sympathise with your predicament, it’s Crosshair. And while he doesn’t know all the facts or why you’re here, he knows first hand how the Empire has basically drilled it into people’s heads that they’re the good guys and so he can’t blame you for carrying those beliefs.

Crosshair has heard this plea before. He’s heard it countless times but that was when his brothers were the ones trying to convince him to abandon the Empire. But now he’s on the opposite side and trying to persuade you to leave the Empire.

He opens his hands, almost as if surrendering but in reality he just wants to show you he’s not reaching for a weapon either. All he wants to do is talk and to make sure you’re aware that just because you’re on opposite sides doesn’t mean you’re necessarily enemies.

Unfortunately this is the part that Crosshair is bad at. Talking. Reasoning. Not being sarcastic or saying a snide comment. He isn’t as compassionate as Hunter, nor can he find the right words like Echo usually can in situations like this.

“I thought you were too smart to fall for the Empire’s lies,” Crosshair can practically hear Omega sigh in the Marauder at his choice of words but it’s how he’s always talked to you. Neither of you have ever minced your words before. Clearing his throat, he tries again, keeping his words genuine and making sure you know he wants to help.

Even if you’re receptive to his truce, Crosshair is hesitant to bring you with them. Not because you may be conditioned to bend to the Empire’s every whim but because he fears what they may do to you if they realise you've went AWOL. Crosshair knows exactly what it’s like to get on the bad side of the Empire and it’s something he would never wish on you.

Whatever your decision is, Crosshair respects it. He won’t pester you to change your mind.

Crosshair still believes in you and whatever it is you decide to do, he’ll trust. Whether you’re on opposite sides of the galaxy, a war, or a game of Dejarik, Crosshair will always have trust in you.

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thecoffeelorian · 2 months ago

Text

Sauntering Vaguely Downwards

Sauntering Vaguely Downwards (Crosshair x Reader)

Premise: As you begin to make your way around the island community of Pabu, you have the choice of just going with the flow or making concrete plans for the future...so take care to choose wisely.

Word Count: 3,042 words.

Masterlist: The Surprise Guest Series

Story Notes: My reader insert may not be the first Mandalorian that's fallen for Crosshair, but they're certainly the first Mandalorian I ever wrote. So...here's hoping that I do them justice in this.

Special Notes: The chapter divider above was made by @stars-n-spice, while the one further down was created by @saradika.

No-Pressure Tags:

@crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf @thora-sniper @otomefan @theclonesdeservedbetter @prettychaos1409

@skellymom @purrfect-bun @eyecandyeoz @penny-dash @evabellasworld

@kal0pssiaa @lulalovez @oporayamm @crosshair-lover @ci-avmovies14

@donntmindmejustwandering @emmaflame1336 @youreababboon @ms-grassi @summerfall21

@lokigirlszendaya @groguandthebadbatch @housepartyfortwo @megmca @cobalt-candy and anybody else still reading this saga. :D

We need help, you determine long before the ships touch down, and a great deal of it as well.

This is probably your only thought once the main doors gradually slide open, the faint smells of blossoms and coconuts wafting inward as though to beckon you, welcome you...or else lure you into a sweet-smelling trap.

The question is...where do we start?

You might not have brought along any watches or other means of telling time along with you, yet as soon as you set foot onto Pabu, you can only guess it’s still daytime because of the near-blinding sunlight that floods the open door of your ship.

You also didn’t bring any sunglasses in your rush to get to safety, no thanks to how hard it is to see from the moment you step onto solid ground...yet, even though you’re sure that you have no idea how anybody else will receive you, you’re quietly observing this new planet just the same.

And the third, but most important thing of all you didn’t think to bring along, is a new set of allies.

“Welcome to Pabu,” Omega announces, trying to stay upbeat for the first few minutes of her own return. “Let’s go off to that balcony over there, we should be able to...er...”

Her voice trails off at the sight of something not too far away, something that’s managed to catch her eye without her thinking too long about it. At this moment, you’ve stopped upon some kind of fanciful platform, for it’s got some kind of tree growing in the center of it and an even larger tower off to the right.

That ‘balcony’ she just mentioned, on the other hand, looks as though it’s just received an upgrade or two.

“What is it?”

“I...I think it’s a memorial?”

You follow her gaze to what she’s dubbed ‘The Memorial’, and then move closer to see two people—most likely a father and a daughter set—re-light a few used candles underneath a painting where only one of the figures depicted is familiar to you. The smaller of the two is obviously Omega, as she’s the only blond clone you’ve ever seen in your entire life and, as far as you know, the only one in existence.

The taller one, though—that’s the figure that raises the questions in your mind, for as Omega’s depiction is standing in a little beam of sunlight, this one is clearly turning away into shadow.

“We have to tell them!”

“Tell them wh—hey, now! Hold on a second!”

You get exactly three seconds to take in a few defining characteristics of the second—a somewhat large pair of goggles and brown hair—and then, Omega is racing towards the two, both arms outstretched before the rest of you can catch her.

“LYANA! MISTER HAZARD!”

The girl standing there with her father, a somewhat tiny thing dressed in red and white, instantly turns around to see Omega running towards her—and just like somebody’s flipped a switch, this ‘Lyana Hazard’ is running as well, her face crumpling into tears.

…Oh.

OH.

In the span of a heartbeat, it all begins making perfect sense to you—Lyana’s weeping, Omega’s words of comfort, Mr. Hazard’s moment of shock followed by a much longer period of consolation for both girls involved, and finally, the hesitant looks of Hunter and Wrecker combined as they watch in silence, not sure in the slightest as to whether or not they should step in.

These two have clearly been friends at some point, otherwise they wouldn’t have been so eager to see each other again.

“Whuh-whuh-what happened out there? Where did you go?!”

“Someplace that won’t be around for much longer.”

And even though the difference between these girls couldn’t be any sharper—Omega with her firm, almost icy resolve and Lyana with her tearful concerns—they’re still pulling back to get a good look at the other, relief a newly growing aspect of their expressions.

“But don’t worry about it now, let’s get you taken care of. Do you have any tissues?”

Upon seeing her friend shake her head and improvise the motion of empty pockets, Omega tries looking at Hunter, Wrecker, and Mr. Hazard in turn, only to find that none of them have thought to bring any tissues with them today. Crosshair’s not exactly useful in this particular case, either, for the way he crosses his arms and looks at the ground is more than enough indication that he didn’t think to carry any out of Tantiss.

Hm...perhaps here might be an ideal place to start.

This is the precise moment in which you’re able to come forward, however, for lo and behold, you’ve always carried a small pack of tissues with you, thanks to your little pollen allergy from back home.

“Will these work?”

Lyana’s golden-brown eyes take you in for a moment, a slight visual inspection as though to safeguard herself against strangers—then, she spots the pack waiting in your hand, and soon after relaxes.

“Oh...oh, sure!”

You find yourself relaxing as well, for now this freckle-faced kid is smiling up at you as though you’re just what the doctor ordered. Not bad for a first impression.

“That is, um—if you don’t need any?”

“I’ll manage,” you promise her, smiling back as she accepts the tissues. “Besides, I think you’ll need them more than I do.”

This little act of helping Lyana seems to do a lot more than just dry her tears, at least as far as you can see. For one thing, it’s certainly enough to win her father over, for he gives you both a nod and a smile of approval.

“You’ve been around children before.”

“Somewhat,” you confess with a shrug. “My hometown didn’t ever have a problem raising them.”

“That explains why our Omega likes you, hm?”

Our Omega. Of course he would say something like that to you; it’s a little difficult for you to imagine this community doing anything less than warming up to her on the spot.

“It’s a little more than that,” Omega chimes in, careful not to let herself disappear from the discussion. “They’re the one who helped me and Crosshair hide from the Imperials!”

“You did?”

Lyana gasps, her eyes growing larger with surprise...and suddenly you’re the center of attention, a few curious onlookers coming closer to get a better look at you. They’re probably not sure what to make of you yet, considering they might have missed your moment with her earlier.

“What was it like?”

“Well, actually—”

“—Actually, I wasn’t as scared as I thought I would be,” you announce, speaking louder and clearer than Hunter’s failed interruption. You’re sure to send a disapproving look his way to get your point across, because after today, allowing him to talk over you or try and tell lies about you aren’t going to be included as the options on the table.

“In fact, I would have gladly hidden them both in a crawlspace to make sure they wouldn’t get taken away...but enough about me.”

It’s here that you cast a sideways look at Hunter and Wrecker together, as not only Crosshair stands further away from them both, but also because the ‘good Sergeant’ is now pretending to focus on a patch of grass in the hopes of avoiding you entirely.

“If it’s not too much to ask after, let me go ahead and do it—is talking to, associating with, or helping Omega in any way against the law on Pabu?”

“There’s no such ban on that here, friend. Never was, the last time I checked.”

“Truly, Mister Hazard…? Perhaps a refresher on the local law book might be great for poor Sergeant Hunter over there. He seems to believe otherwise, and I have no clue as to why.”

There.

You’ve gotten it all out into the open so that nobody else gets to mess around with your backstory, and about time, too. That tiny amount of onlookers are now sending agitated looks in Hunter’s direction, so if he tries twisting your words around in any way, perhaps they’ll all think twice before believing him without question.

As for you, you’ve got something of slightly greater importance to sniff out:

“Are there any empty houses here..?”

You voice this question with all the strength of a waterlogged tooka, as the sharp transitions from your hazy home planet to nighttime on another to total kriffing daylight on a third hasn’t failed to take its toll on you. The sheer brightness of the world around you has been more than enough to start giving you one of your famous headaches, and if the growing pain around your forehead is any indicator, you’re in for a rather nasty one if there aren’t any painkillers available.

“Don’t worry, friend, you’re just in time—I think we have some available around Midtown.”

Luckily for you and yours, Mr. Hazard, answers you right away, this time almost radiating compassion from head to toe. Maybe, if you’re reading him right, you’re not the only one who’s had to adjust to rapid changes in climate, time zones, and everything else that comes with adjusting to new surroundings. Maybe he’s had to also leave his home planet with very little warning or time to prepare, and basically take whatever he’s able to carry before the evacuations start.

Judging from the footage you’ve seen of the war, he certainly wouldn’t be the only one.

Nevertheless, even if you’re not quite showing your best face to all of these potential neighbors because of your own ship lag, he’s certainly not the sort of person to shame you in public for it.

“I take it that’s halfway down the slope, then?”

“It is.”

“Thank you, sir...long story short, we’ve had one bantha of a journey.”

Rather, he seems to be the sort of fellow that’s aware enough to give a newcomer their space, for as there are certainly two of you to ’contend’ with, there might also be the need to provide twice as much distance for your personal benefit...

“No no no, we’re not done y—HEY!”

...A benefit that, thanks to Wrecker purposefully keeping a certain ’Sergeant Grouchy’ a good six feet away from you, will not be interrupted in the least by any hostile onlookers.

“Actually, ‘we’ are, so as of now, ‘we’ are gonna do what was promised, and go check on Captain Genoa,” he announces, skillfully ignoring Hunter’s sputters and offering his free hand to Omega.

“Let’s get movin’, okay?”

There’s an undefined look on the girl’s face, yet she manages a small wave at you and Crosshair before accepting, one corner of her mouth very nearly turning up in the beginnings of a smile. She should have plenty to keep her happy and occupied for a while, even if it’s got nothing to do with yourself or the wary Trooper beside you.

In fact, there’s a part of your thoughts that would love nothing more than for her to have a nice little distraction or two, as it might certainly help with her readjustment into something other than some ‘doctor’s’ house of horrors.

As for you and Crosshair, though...there’s only one way for you to go, be it together or apart. For good or for ill, you’re about to start heading downstairs.

“...That went well.”

You’ve set off at a slow but steady pace, Crosshair trailing behind you by a few steps. So far, the skies are clear, the breeze feels normal, and other than the occasional passing glance, nobody is trying to stop you in your tracks or ask you a barrage of loaded questions.

“Well, somebody seemed like he wanted to put us on trial for crimes against the Republic...and that’s just without taking a closer look at you.”

That doesn’t stop you, however, from wanting to dig a little deeper into the no-longer private affairs of this stranger.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“—Yes, you do.”

You stop and turn back to face Crosshair, narrowly swallowing down the rant that’s building in your throat so that you can better form a coherent argument.

“When you and Omega first came into my house and later on my ship, you told me that you and your Sergeant had a difference of—of political ideology.”

“I did…”

“Well, at this same time, you know what else I’m noticing, pal? That.”

You take a moment to tap at the visible lump on the left side of his head, that ridiculous little thing that’s been biting at your thoughts ever since this mad ’adventure’ began—then, in the few seconds it takes for him to almost jump away from you, you’re staring back at him with both eyebrows raised.

“Don’t.”

“ ‘Don’t’ what? Ask you questions or point out the obvious—”

“—Pick one.”

There’s a clear glare in his eyes now, a dangerous look that both gives you a chilly feeling along your spine and an interesting twinge in other places—yet it’s more than enough to get you to back off a few steps.

“Just—just don’t push me too hard right now, all right? I might want some rest, too.”

“All right.”

“And one more thing, Y/N…”

“Yes, Crosshair?”

“Keep your karking hands to yourself.”

He finishes this statement with a low sigh, a sure sign that this deep conversation between you is over for the time being. In turn, you’re careful to raise both hands in a wordless surrender, as Hunter turning his full scorn upon you was more than enough conflict for one day.

If anything, you’re certainly going to avoid picking fights for the rest of this rotation.

“Thank you...now. Let’s get out of here and find some cover.”

“Consider it done.”

Somewhere at the bottom of this staircase, you find the next leg of this little journey, a coarse dirt path trailing into the first of many housing clusters that you’ve gotten to see up close. This is most likely where you’ll find the nearest available house for yourself and Crosshair, as you’ve already had the feeling that such things wouldn’t have been suggested if they weren’t there to begin with.

This is also the place where there aren’t as many curious onlookers watching your every move, and so for the time being, you’re able to breathe just a tiny bit easier.

“I think we’re getting close, Cross.”

“How can you tell?”

“The scenery’s a bit more welcoming out here.”

The nearer you come to these houses, though, the more you start to notice an interesting coincidence about this part of the island. First, you’re greeted by the smell of certain spices even before you enter this particular community, for there’s always been something about this particular mixture that always finds its way to the ones who use it. Second, you spot the banner of a Mythosaur almost as soon as you pass under a wooden arch, a symbol that repeats a few more times as you make your way further in. Here and there, you can detect smatterings of Mando’a, sometimes by itself and sometimes mixed in with other languages as part of the planetary dialects.

And if that wasn’t enough of an indicator of where exactly you’ve gone to, the sight of two fully-suited Mandalorians certainly tells you all that you need to know.

“We have it, Alpha.”

They seem to be in the middle of delivering something important to another Trooper, for the one that this pair just called Alpha—graying, seated in a hoverchair, and with an expression nearly as hard as stone—reaches out a hand for the needed goods.

“Is this the medicine I was promised…?”

“It certainly is. Might we take a moment to look in on him?”

Alpha thinks it over for a moment, his face nondescript—then, almost as though turning off an invisible switch, the both of you watch silently as he declines the offer.

“Thanks for the interest, boys, but ah—I think he might still need a few more days to adjust.”

“Seventeen…as I live and breathe.”

To your surprise, Crosshair’s speaking up out of the blue, a totally unexpected thing considering he’s been silent up until now.

“How the kriff are you still alive?”

“I feel as though I should be asking you the same thing,” Alpha-17 answers, taking a full visual appraisal of all of his scars and other ailments. “What, I take it the rancor spat you back out?”

“Ha-ha.”

Both Troopers narrow their eyes at the other for a moment, the world falling silent around them as they size each other up—then, just as you’re wondering whether or not you’re going to have to break up a fight, Alpha-17 motions you closer in order to get a better look at you.

“You haven’t come alone either, I take it?”

“No more than you,” Crosshair acknowledges, his undamaged hand moving over the afflicted one to keep it still.

“And who’s this supposed to be? One of your accomplices?”

“Eh...the thing is—”

“—My name is Y/N of Clan Rook, longtime vassal of House Kast,” you announce in nearly perfect Mando’a, no faulty comms or dented beskar around to muffle your voice...and exactly one seasoned Trooper to take it all in with both eyes widening in shock.

“I have reached the surface of this planet in search of sanctuary, and by the honor of my family, I hereby put this soldier under my protection.”

You count exactly twenty seconds before the whole tone of this gathering shifts, Alpha loosening up ever so slightly while the two Mandalorians turn to look at each other without speaking. For a split second, you’re asking yourself exactly when they might turn their blasters upon you, never mind if they’ll take you down first before doing the same to Crosshair and vice versa. Literally anything could be on the table at this point, especially toward a total stranger such as yourself.

Then, just as you’re figuring out whether or not you should start searching for a blaster...one of those two Mandalorians decides to remove his helmet, and everything changes.

“Hello to you too, Cousin.”

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rainydaydream-gal18 · 8 months ago

Note

hi! I don't know if you take requests, but if you do may I request a Tech x f!Jedi reader where they sort of acknowledged their feelings for one another during the era of the clone wars, but never really acted upon them. then after order 66 happens, they somehow reunite and ofc Tech is super happy to see her again, then on pabu his brother have to convince him to act and kiss her since neither of them know when or if they will see one another again, and he does?

thanks!

(Bad Batch) Tech x Reader: Ghost

Author's Note: Consider this a late Tech Tuesday! Enjoy!

Word Count: 3,108

Warnings: Fluff, some angst, kiss

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

Tech tilted his head to steal a sideways glance at Hunter through his goggles, brows furrowing over his narrowed eyes as his mind considered a million and one possibilities.

"One might say I have," he answered cryptically, not wasting any more time before pursuing the figure.

It was evident that Hunter was puzzled by the reply, but he knew better than to ignore that look in his squadmate's eyes. He reached out with his senses in hopes of noticing anything in particular.

But even he has difficulty finding something in a bustling square when he hasn't the slightest clue of what that something is.

Tech was determined to track down his target. It was only a fleeting glimpse... But he was sure he'd seen it. His brown eyes scanned the crowd of faces as he shouldered his way through in the most polite way he could in such a hurry. A chorus of, "excuse me"s and "pardon"s left his lips. He even had to utter a full apology after stepping on a bystander's foot.

Then, he saw it again.

This time, he wouldn't lose sight of it. His eyes remained locked on it- on her.

It was her, he realized.

She had joined a small crowd in the main square to observe the festival performers.

She wore dark clothes- very different from her robes.

But of course, Tech thought. She was in hiding. Obviously, she would have to protect her identity after Order 66 occurred.

Tech looked over his shoulder to see Hunter with widened eyes. He'd finally seen you too. They both locked gazes and nodded, mutually deciding to approach with caution.

For once in his life, Tech wasn't entirely sure how to proceed. The last thing he wanted was to startle you. After all, it wouldn't be unheard of for your instincts to kick in, especially towards clones.

By the time he reached you, he was even less sure.

Hunter took the liberty of greeting you simply and in a light-hearted way in hopes that you'd be put at ease.

"Fancy meeting you here," he rumbled.

Tech's eyes flickered back to you, watching as you turned around. The way your face lit up at the realization of who it was warmed Tech's heart. Your smile grew wide, and your eyes began to glisten with tears that welled up.

He waited, even as you threw your arms around Hunter in a gleeful embrace, to see if any fear or uneasiness registered in your expression. Your body language toward the squad leader showed no indication of anything other than relief and familiarity.

You pulled back from Hunter, sharing a meaningful look with your friend, before turning to Tech.

"Oh, Tech." you practically launched yourself into his arms, and he took a second to process the action before tightening the embrace. "Do you know how much I've missed you?" you whispered into his neck.

His heart fluttered at the feeling of your lips against his skin as you uttered the most sorrowed question in a barely-audible voice.

She's here, his inner voice kept saying. She's here. She's here in my arms. Nothing is going to harm her. I will never allow it.

Tech squeezed tighter, swearing to himself that he'd never let you go again. It was duty that had separated you during the Clone Wars. But now that the Republic had fallen, this duty no longer existed.

The embrace was long, but not nearly long enough. You pulled away, wiping the wetness from your cheeks with a sleeve, sniffling.

"I knew it," you said shakily, your voice breaking off into a laugh. "I sensed you when I landed. After the Order, part of me hoped beyond hope... But I wasn't sure I'd find you either way."

"Small Galaxy, I s'pose," Hunter joked. "Still, how'd you know we weren't going to..."

"Blast me to smithereens?" you finished with a grimace. "Well, this planet doesn't seem to be occupied by the Empire. I figured if you were here, you weren't likely to be under the influence of chips."

"Still," Tech spoke up again, meeting your gaze. "We could have in theory been doing recon work for the Empire. Hunting undercover. "

"I guess that was a chance I was willing to take," you said, your own gaze unwavering as it bore into his soul. A flood gate of memories opened up as he looked own into your eyes.

Suddenly, he saw you on the battlefield, standing right at his side with your lightsaber in hand, deflecting blasts. He saw you in the cockpit of the Marauder, your features shadowed beautifully by the light of stars streaking past in hyperspace. He saw you seated on a crate, the sleeve of your robe rolled up to reveal a wound that he tended to with a bacta patch. He felt you press against him as the two of you made your way through a dark cave back-to-back.

He saw your downcast expression as you waved the squad farewell after being transferred to another system to aid a fellow Jedi in the War effort.

"Hey! Look who it is!" The booming voice of Wrecker sounded over the commotion of the festival. You looked over to see him approaching with a small girl on his shoulders, and Crosshair in tow. Another soldier was following not too far behind.

"Wrecker! Crosshair!" you greeted. "Am I glad to see you!"

Wrecker set the girl down to hug you properly, and Crosshair begrudgingly accepted an embrace from you. The girl was watching you curiously. The other soldier also seemed intrigued by your familiarity with the squad.

Finally, Hunter continued with introductions. "Omega, meet ______, an ally and good friend of the squad."

He didn't dare use the word "jedi" in a crowd, not even in a place as safe as Pabu.

You hadn't expected to see her face light up in realization, as if she knew all about you.

"And this is Omega," Hunter continued. "It's...a long story. In short, she's-"

"Our sister!" Wrecker finished.

You couldn't help the awed smile as you greeted her properly. "Wow, it's wonderful to meet you, Omega."

She was beaming up at you as she stepped forward to shake your hand. "You too. I've heard a lot about you."

"Oh yeah?" you shot Wrecker a humorously suspicious look. "All good things, I hope."

"Mostly," he guffawed.

"This here is Echo," Hunter said, motioning to the other soldier. He seemed to know who you were already because he saluted with his scomp arm. Touched by the gesture, you saluted back. "He joined the squad shortly before the War ended."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ma'am," he said.

"Likewise," you replied.

Tech had been unusually silent the entire time, and you found yourself glancing his way, hoping to get a read on what might be going on inside that mind of his. His gaze was already locked on you, and his lips were pursed, a sign that he did have loads to say. The sight nearly made you laugh.

Same ol' Tech.

The group naturally made its way out of the crowd, heading for the beach so that you could all talk openly and get caught up. Each of the squad took turns recounting in their own words some of the adventures that took place after Order 66. They were beyond curious to know the events that transpired in your escape and evasion of the Empire in the following months.

For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were home.

. . . . . . . . . . .

"You can't stay, can you?"

The question wasn't wholly unexpected. Hunter's heightened senses allowed him to see more than what was around him. Sometimes he saw into you just a little too well.

You let out a sigh, looking out over the perfect view of the island from your spot on the porch. It was almost painful to confirm Hunter's suspicion when you were gazing at blue water shining in the sun, waiting for the rest of the squad to return to the neighborhood after their work was done for the day.

After over a month on Pabu, you couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

But the fact of the matter was, there was some unfinished business to take care of.

"I need to go away for a while," you admitted.

"Are you sure?" Hunter asked, brows raised. "You're safe here."

"I know." You closed your eyes, breathing the salty air into your lungs peacefully. "But there are others who aren't. I can sense it. They're lost and confused, and...afraid. They need me."

He nodded gravely. As always, he respected your judgment. He honored your sense of duty to others, despite his concern. If there was anyone who understood, it was him.

"I'll be back," you told him. "In a little while. I will return to you all."

"We'll be waiting."

. . . . . . . . . . .

Breaking the news to the others wasn't something you'd ever want to do again. Omega and Wrecker were downcast. Crosshair voiced his disapproval in his own way, flicking a toothpick onto the ground. Echo wasn't happy to see you go, but he seemed to understand. Duty to his brothers would soon to call him away also as it had before, or so he'd told you.

What you hadn't expected was Tech to fall silent. His expression didn't exactly betray frustration or displeasure, but you'd always known him to express emotion differently. After all, as you'd come to find out from the others, your departure from the squad during the Clone Wars had affected him more than he'd let on to you.

Just when you thought that maybe Tech's feelings didn't go as far as you once thought, he broke the silence.

"Leaving the safe haven of Pabu is most unwise."

The entire squad froze at Tech's version of an outburst. It wasn't a shout. It was controlled, but each word was laced with a tinge of bitterness- something you'd rarely ever heard.

At that, suddenly the others felt the need to excuse themselves, for one reason or another. Wrecker out of the blue remembered that he and Omega needed to go see Shep about...something. Echo was adamant about joining them. Hunter excused himself to finish a household chore. And Crosshair just up and walked away without a word.

When just you and Tech remained, you responded to his statement calmly.

"I know, it's a risk. But it's one I have to take. I'd hoped you would understand."

"Forgive me," he said curtly, turning his face away, putting his chiseled profile in full view. "I do understand."

Your heart broke at the sight. "Tech..."

He faced you again, an unreadable expression crossing his features. "I understand perfectly."

Before you could say anything more, he walked away.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Tech paused tinkered adamantly with the device in his hands.

He felt like an adolescent. Like some young cadet.

When Crosshair had gone his own way, seemingly lost to the squad, Tech found a way to rationalize it. When Echo departed from the squad for a time, Tech processed the shift in his own way.

Adapting was the name of the game. Tech always felt that finding a way to adapt to changing scenarios would mean a higher probability of survival for himself and the squad as a whole. Rather than wasting time trying to change things according to his own wishes, or longing for things to be different, he found the rate of success would increase immensely if he simply, "rolled with the punches."

So, why did he act contrary to that belief just now? Why didn't he simply shake your hand without so much as a nod and let you continue on your way?

Perhaps it was the environment. The peaceful planet of Pabu, where the squad lived out its days safe and sound- having long since abandoned the life of soldiers and mercenaries- brought about a softer, gentler existence. Survival was no longer something that the squad struggled with.

The lack of a need to adapt perhaps left room for Tech's true emotions to shine through- a luxury previously unheard of in his mind.

"Let me guess," Crosshair's coiled voice interrupted his train of thought. "You didn't tell her how you feel...again."

Ah, fantastic. This was just what Tech needed at the moment. A dose of his brother's difficult and unyielding character.

He adjusted his goggles, resuming his tinkering as if he was unbothered. "I fail to see how that is relevant."

"You know, if you tell her, she might stay."

Tech paused. "I do not see why she would. She had made it quite clear that her mind is made up."

"Is it now?" Crosshair leaned against the doorway of Tech's quarters, crossing his arms. "And how do you know she won't change it?"

Tech didn't reply. Perhaps his brother would give up and leave.

"She deserves to know."

...But of course not.

"What makes you say that?" Tech looked up.

"Because it's the sort of thing people do." Crosshair placed a toothpick between his teeth. "When they care about someone, they tell them. They never know when they'll get the chance to...or if."

That one sent Tech's mind reeling.

Regret. As much as he tried to distance himself from it, as it was another hindrance to adapting to the situation at hand...he knew it would be something that he'd be faced with if he left things the way he had...

But telling you how he felt? Tech wondered how he could even begin to do so. He was eloquent in matters of machinery. Science. Technology. Those were languages he spoke fluently.

Telling you that he cared for you?

Loved you?

That was a foreign concept entirely.

. . . . . . . . . . .

The time of your departure had come all too soon. The squad was gathered around your ship on a rainy afternoon to see you off.

You'd be back soon, you kept reiterating to each of them. Tech watched as you hugged Hunter, and the leader wished you well. Wrecker picked you up and spun you around. Omega, who'd come to admire you so, wrapped her arms around you in a heartfelt hug. Crosshair once more allowed an embrace, bringing his hand up to awkwardly pat your back. Echo, in his fashion, saluted you before you laughed and embraced him also.

Tell her how you feel. Tell her how you feel. Tech kept telling himself that over and over again. It didn't seem to make his next move any easier. Even with the hours and hours of thought he put into it, the task of telling you that he cared for you still seemed monumental. Impossible even.

But his brother's words rang true.

He had to let you know. Somehow.

You were standing in front of him, concern etched on your face. It was evident that his last interaction with you left you unsure as to what his behavior would be. Tech hated that he'd caused that uncertainty.

He opened his mouth, but for once in his entire existence, nothing came out. There was no spew of information. No explanation rolling effortlessly off his lips. Not even a peep.

You were waiting patiently for him to get his bearings- though your uneasiness seemed to increase.

His brain shorted out, and then suddenly everything became crystal clear. If he couldn't begin to tell you how he felt, perhaps it would be best if he didn't tell you.

Tech's resolve cemented, and he closed the distance between you with a single step. Your eyes widened as he stepped into your space, and your hand came up to rest on his chest. When it registered that there was no force behind it, that you were not trying to push him away, Tech placed a hand on each of your shoulders and leaned in.

Your expression melted before his very eyes. With no further thought to your surroundings, you leaned in the rest of the way.

Your thoughts were racing as Tech's lips pressed warmly against your own.

The determined look in his eyes had made your heart flutter. The way he'd so decidedly stepped into your space, how his hands held you in such a way that you doubted anything could move you from that spot... It was captivating.

You recalled the time when thoughts of kissing Tech were the sort of thing that used to keep you up at night.

During the War, your familial affection for the squad would have been questionable in the eyes of the Council, if they'd known. But your attachment to Tech in particular would have been considered dangerous. Absolutely forbidden.

But love is a force of its own.

You were certain of that more than ever, with Tech tilting his head to deepen the kiss, his arms sliding around your form to hold you tighter as the rain pelted you both from above.

What began as a fervid gesture rendered something softer, sweeter in the end. His lips brushed yours tenderly one last time, feather-light, as if savoring the moment, before pulling away.

You tugged him back before he got too far, holding him in an embrace as you buried your face in his chest.

"Stay."

There was no edge to his tone with the request. It broke your heart all the same to hear it.

"I can't," you whispered.

"Perhaps I can accompany you, then." There was a waver in his exhale from the chill of the rain.

"There's no need. Besides, I'll be back faster than you can say, 'Marauder.'"

"I highly doubt that you will return that quickly."

You chuckled, reaching up to wipe some of the drops from his goggles. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"This. I needed it."

The two of you parted, and Wrecker whistled jokingly. Crosshair gave Tech a nod of approval, and Echo was shaking his head in amusement. Hunter merely looked at you with a raised brow, and suddenly your shoes became very fascinating to you.

"I'll see you all soon."

"Keep us updated, will ya?" Hunter asked, giving you a nudge.

"Absolutely. Bye, everyone!" you gave one last salute before boarding your ship. As you engaged the take-off, Tech received a variety of shoulder-pats and nudges of sympathy from the squad.

And when your ship disappeared on the horizon, he found himself glued to the spot for several minutes.

"Don't worry," Hunter assured him. "She's strong. Skilled too."

"I am aware," Tech acknowledged. Another moment of silence passed. "Her engine sounded strange. Perhaps I should comm her."

Hunter chuckled, clapping his hand on Tech's shoulder. "Knock yourself out. I'm sure she'd be glad to hear from you."

#bad batch #the bad batch #tbb #bad batch tech #bad batch tech x reader #bad batch x reader #bad batch reader insert #the bad batch x reader #tech x reader #tbb tech x reader #tbb tech x you #tech x you #bad batch x you #star wars the bad batch #bad batch fanfiction #bad batch fic #bad batch fanfic #tech reader insert

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awkward-tension-art · 11 months ago

Text

Misc. Clones x Twi'lek!Reader

I’ve had this idea in my head for a while, so….enjoy?

Cw: Twi’lek stereotyping, Speciesism, reader is a twi’lek, gender neutral pronouns, reader is falsely accused in the last set

Minors DNI (even though theres no smut)

501st Legion:

“Hey tail-head! Why not come here and give me a dance?”

You paused in what you were doing, turning to stare at the one who said such a thing.

He was wearing white armor, and clearly a shiny.

Rex

Ex-fucking-cuse me?

Rex is going to step between you and the shiny, helmet off and clearly pissed.

“Care to repeat that, trooper?”

His glare is steady. He’s not going to raise his voice or shout but by GOD if looks could kill.

The shiny is going to start tripping over his words to apologize but Rex isn’t having any of it

“You see that gunship over there? You’re scrubbing the entirety of it with your toothbrush. Now get moving.”

He isn’t having ANY of that shit in his legion.

Speciesism? Not in his fucking house.

After the shiny is hauling ass, he’s going to check on you.

“I’m sorry, cyare. I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

Rex isn’t a fool. He’s traveled all around the galaxy. He's worked with General Secura. He’s well aware of the stereotypes surrounding your people.

He won’t tell you, but whenever someone says any sort of twi-lek slur within earshot, he’s making them run laps around the Resolute.

Fives

He’s going to be speechless for a solid second.

Someone??? Just said that??? To his mesh’la?

Oh fuck no.

Fives is going to get in the shiny’s face and just growl, “You have some balls, rookie.”

This is an ARC trooper who is not above breaking some rules.

One of those rules is putting a shiny in their place

Fives is going to push them back hard enough to make them stumble, “Say it again and I'll throw you out of an airlock.”

Once the shiny had gotten the message and rushed away, Fives will drape an arm around you

He’ll peck your cheek, “They shouldn’t bother you again, mesh’la.”

Fives finds you to be incredible, but he knows that there will be individuals who have opinions on you just because of the stereotypes surrounding twi-leks.

He’ll definitely get in the face of anyone who gives you a hard time.

After sometime, it becomes pretty well known that Fives’ S/O isn’t to be messed with.

Kix

The medic is less confrontational.

He also knows you can handle yourself, but he’ll cast a glance your way to see if your alright

If you're ignoring the shiny and moving on, he will too.

But if you look uncomfortable/upset that’s when he’ll say something

“Just ignore them,” He tries his best with comfort, but he knows you shouldn’t HAVE to ignore such words.

If the shiny says something else to you, that's when he’ll confront them.

“If you don’t walk away, I just might forget to give you painkillers when you get shot in the next battle.”

That tends to shut the shinies up. Afterall, pissing off the medic is a bad idea

Once you're alone, Kix will put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

While he hates the twi’lek stereotype, he knows he can’t really say anything to make it go away. This is most likely a constant background noise in your life, and that won’t magically disappear in a day.

Though, he will go to Rex and tell him what happened. Kix can’t change the whole galaxy but he can at least make the 501st more welcoming

Jesse

He thinks it's a joke at first, maybe some playful ribbing.

Afterall, he does the same with his own brothers.

But one look at your face and he’s snapped into gear.

“Good one, brother!” The ARC trooper will put his arm over the shiny’s shoulder, “I got a better one.”

Jesse will lean in close, “If you say something like that again, I’ll personally make you swallow your own teeth, got it?”

He says this with a smile.

At first the shiny thinks HE’S joking, but then Jesse’s grip gets tighter, and his smile is gone.

“I mean it.”

Once the shiny is gone, he’s going to kiss you.

He’s another one who will go to Rex. This isn’t something your lover wants you to deal with, especially from his own brothers.

He expects better from them. Even if they're a shiny

If it happens again, that's when Jesse makes good on his threats.

He’s an ARC trooper. He didn’t get the rank by looking pretty.

He also gets a reputation of being protective, so the next batch of shinies that join the 501st already know to be respectful.

Clone Force 99

“Hey, tail-head, why don’t you and I go somewhere and you can show me some of those twi’lek dances up close?”

You sighed, looking back to see a bounty hunter of some sort with a disgusting grin on their face.

Omega was next to you, brow furrowed, “Tail-head? Why’d they call you that?”

Hunter

“Oh shut it.” is his first response.

If the bounty hunter opens their mouth again, Hunter's second response is to throw a punch.

This is the man that brought his fists to a food fight. His first reaction will be to silence the bounty hunter, his second is to shut their mouth in a physical way.

Yea, he’s not above assault.

Once the stranger is on the ground, that’s when Hunter speaks again

“Think twice before you say something stupid next time.”

He’s going to give you a concerned look and put a hand on your shoulder

“You ok, Cyare?”

He’s also aware of the stereotype surrounding twi-leks, and he won’t let anyone give you a hard time.

He kneels next to Omega and essentially teaches her what stereotypes are

He emphasizes that they’re wrong, and she shouldn’t ever assume things based on stereotypes

Anyone who says ‘tail-head’ in his vicinity they’re losing teeth.

He’s aware violence isn’t going to change opinions, but he isn’t going to stand for anyone throwing slurs at you

Hunter cares for you so much, he just wants you to feel comfortable and safe.

Wrecker

He doesn’t think those vile words are being thrown at you at first. He’ll look to you for confirmation.

When it finally clicks, he stands between you and the stranger. He doesn’t even need to say anything, just glares down at them.

After the bounty hunter gets the hint, Wrecker will turn to you and Omega.

“You can’t say that again, ok ‘mega? That’s a bad insult to twi’leks.”

He doesn’t freak out or draw attention to what Omega parrotted. He’s well aware she’s a kid and doesn't entirely know better.

Wrecker may be a bit dense at times, but he’s not stupid.

He knows exactly what the stranger was getting at saying such things to you.

“Good thing they’re gone, right mesh’la?” He’ll ask, holding your face.

He puts an arm around you and the three of you head back to the ship.

He likes to act as your protector. He knows you can handle yourself, but he just likes to feel like he's protecting you. Afterall you’re precious to him.

His heart breaks if you tell him this has happened before.

He is UNHAPPY that this is something you deal with.

He knows the twi’lek stereotype exists, it’s just…different when it's you.

Honesty, he’ll take this to heart and step-in if he sees something like this happen to another twi’lek.

He’s not going to be a bystander anymore. And Omega definitely learns from his example.

Tech

“Well, that is entirely unnecessary.”

He won’t pick a fight. He thinks it’s best to ignore instigators.

He also knows that arguing or snapping at the bounty hunter may make things worse

He’ll grab your hand and lead you and Omega away

If the stranger follows, he’ll turn a corner, put you and omega behind him and set his blaster on stun

Once the bounty hunter turns the corner, Tech will shoot them.

“There.” He says, putting his blaster away, “Shouldn’t bother us anymore.”

Once you three are back at the ship, he’ll kiss your forehead before speaking to Omega

“Tail-head is a slur to twi’lek individuals. It’s supposed to insult someone's lekku. You must never say it again.”

Tech is very much aware of both the stereotypes and their origin.

If someone gives you a hard time or throws more insults at you, he’s not going to stand for it.

He has very little patience for ignorance.

Echo

Barely stops himself from throwing hands instantly.

“You want to say that again?” He’s going to get in the bounty hunter's face very quickly, “Say it again. I dare you.”

Echo is a damn ARC trooper. He can make the stranger eat their words.

But, he’ll hold back, for your sake.

If the bounty hunter doesn’t back down, he casts a glance at you.

Give the greenlight? It's a fight.

You want to move on and forget this happened? He backs down.

He’ll return to your side and just start grumbling, “Ignorant asshole…if they open their mouth again, I swear…”

He gets really upset about this. And he knows it wasn’t the first time nor will it be the last time this happens to you.

When you're not within earshot, he’ll explain to Omega why ‘tail-head’ is not something to be repeated.

Echo is patient with her. She’s just a child.

But like Tech, he had no patience for ignorance from anyone else.

Will snap at anyone who says ‘tail-head’ or other twi’lek insults within earshot.

Crosshair

While everyone has some form of restraint, Crosshair does not.

It’s an immediate brawl.

His patience is a negative 2 when it comes to this type of stuff.

The bounty hunter hadn’t even blinked before Crosshair knocked them down.

He’s pretty silent, returning to your side and putting an arm around you.

He’ll look at Omega and just say a simple, “Don’t say that again.”

Pretty blunt to be honest.

Crosshair is protective. More so than even Wrecker.

His mind is already running, analyzing your surroundings and seeing who else may make snide remarks.

Afterall, if one person was able to say something like that, how many more are there?

He’ll ask how often this happens.

Depending on your answer he’s either slightly annoyed or pissed.

No one should be giving you a hard time simply because you're twi’lek.

Once back at the ship, he’s going to keep a hand or arm on you in any way possible.

He loves you, and he doesn’t want you to ever feel ashamed or bad for being twi’lek.

212th Battalion:

“Hey, I didn’t know the 212th got its own personal dancer,” The shiny slid next to you, “What do you say? Wanna give the boys and I a moral booster?”

You blinked, eyes wide. That was an entirely new one…

Cody:

After Ryloth, he thought his men would behave better than that. So he’s genuinely caught off guard.

“You have 2 seconds to take back what you said, rookie.” He snaps, glaring.

After a stumbling apology is given to you, Cody continues with his death stare, “I expect better from you. You will treat them and every other alien species with respect. Do I make myself clear?”

Very much not happy about this.

If one shiny said something like that to you, who else stereotypes twi’leks?

It’s not just about you, Cody really expects much better from the 212th.

If one person acts like a moron, it reflects badly on the 212th, General Kenobi and the GAR.

They are soldiers of the Republic in a very diverse galaxy.

However, he’ll turn his attention back to you and grab your hand.

“I’ll make sure that never happens again, I promise.”

He’s incredibly sweet about it.

Boil:

Instant shame.

This is how he used to sound!?

“Hey!” He’ll snap at the shiny, “Show some damn respect.”

In a way, he’s trying to compensate for his ignorance earlier in the war.

Before Ryloth, he used to throw around ‘tail-head’ all the time. Something he looks back at in shame.

It was Numa, and now you that made him realize how much of a bastard he used to be.

If the shiny persists, Boil will get up in his face, “Back off. Now.”

If something like this happens again, Boil will go to Cody.

Like the commander, Boil also expects better from the 212th

But also, he wants you to feel comfortable among his brothers.

“I’m sorry,” He won’t exactly look at you. He knows the shiny’s behavior isn’t his fault, but he can’t help but feel shame and embarrassment anyway.

A bit later, he’ll hold your hand and just admit, “I used to be like him. Ignorant and self-centered…I’m sorry.”

Boil loves you so dearly. He just wanted to be honest.

He respects however you react

Waxer

Another one who feels shame.

Yea he didn’t throw around ‘tail-head’ or see twi’leks as lesser, but he stood by while others did.

After Ryloth and Numa, he doesn’t stand by anymore.

“Oh shut up!” He’ll snap, “Go throw yourself out of an airlock.”

Waxer is a learner. He’s learned more about your people. Your history. Your culture.

He's also learned the stereotypes. Where they've come from.

So, he knows what the shiny is getting at by speaking to you.

this guy painted Numa on his helmet. He’s definitely not going to let anyone disrespect you in any way shape or form because of your species.

He won’t get physical, but he will threaten.

Once the shiny is gone, he’ll put a hand on your cheek, “I’m sorry. I’ll knock some sense into him later, I promise.”

Coruscant Guard

“Hey!”

Your Coruscant Guard lover was walking you home when someone grabbed your shoulder and turned you around.

“Guard! Arrest this twi’lek thief! I know they stole my credits straight out of my pocket!” The pantoran woman yelled right in your face.

When you argued, she just yelled louder, “All twi’leks are conniving thieves! Give me back my credits!”

Of course you didn’t steal anything, but this pantoran seemed convinced that you did. All because you were twi’lek.

Fox

The headache was immediate.

“Ma’am, I assure you they haven't gone anywhere near you.”

He wants to defend you more staunchly, but he’s the commander of the CG.

There’s only so much he can do without risking reprimand.

If the pantoran persists, he’ll get rougher, but remain professional.

“Ma’am if you don’t walk away, I will arrest you for wasting Coruscant Guard resources.”

The best he can do, frankly.

This isn’t the first time he’s seen an innocent twi’lek be accused of a crime.

It happens more than he’d wish to admit.

Honestly, he hates it, but there's protocol in place and he's obligated to follow.

But he knows you're innocent. You were beside him the entire time.

Plus, he loves you. He’s not going to search you.

If she keeps giving you a hard time, Fox will step forward, “Last chance, I will throw you in a cell for the night if you don’t keep walking.”

Usually that works.

He’ll keep you close until you're safely home. He won’t talk about it if you don’t.

Though, he does end up telling the guard to be more mindful of random accusations against twi’leks.

Thorn

“Oh here we go…”

He’s…not taking this woman seriously at all.

“I have seen no such thing. Please make a report to the police.” He’ll just deadpan before walking away.

Petty crime such as a pickpocket is 1-800-not-his-job.

He’ll drape an arm over your shoulder and pull you closer to him.

Like Fox, he’s seen people blame twi’leks solely based on stereotypes

And his response is always the same, “Either show me solid evidence or take it to the police.”

If you say this isn’t the first time, Thorn kinda squeezes your shoulder.

“Don’t worry, love.” He’ll whisper, “the boys and I won’t let anyone accuse you of anything.”

He makes good on the promise. If anyone tries to give you a hard time for being twi’lek, there's usually a Coruscant Guard that steps in.

A partner to one of the Guard is well taken care of.

Hound:

He’s going to look at the woman, then look at you, then look at Grizzer.

He whistles once, and Grizzer licks your hand.

Grizzer just likes you, this isn’t any sort of actual search.

“They don’t have your credits. Move along or go to a police droid.”

Since the massiff didn’t ‘find’ anything, the pantoran woman leaves you alone.

“Happen often?” Hound is going to ask you quietly when the two of you start walking again.

When you nod, he doesn’t respond.

Like the rest of the guard, he knows your people often get falsely accused of crimes.

Having a massiff with a good sense of smell makes it quick and easy to find out if they actually committed the alleged crime.

More often than not, the falsely accused is innocent.

But he knows he can’t be with you all the time. You have your own jobs to do.

One minor fear of his is you getting accused and then thrown into a cell.

All because you are twi’lek

He knows his brothers won’t do such a thing, but police droids aren’t so flexible or understanding.

316 notes · View notes

lqveharrington · 1 year ago

Text

You Look Beautiful | V.

summary: Alastor introduces you to Vox, leading to an unforgettable experience with your father.

pairing: vox x lucifer’s daughter!reader

includes: drinking, fluff, VALENTINO, secret relationships, awkward flirting, lucifer being an overprotective father, lucifer also being lucifer, that’s basically it (let me know if i missed any !!)

a/n: this takes place before Vox upgrades to a flat screen TV and before Alastor leaves for his seven year absence. Also, you’re older than charlie 🤗

Being Lucifer Morningstar’s first daughter was something else. Especially when your mother left. When she left, your father fell into deep depression which left you with paperwork to fulfill from other sins and left you with the responsibility of watching over your younger sister. Having to take over both your mother and father’s royal duties was getting to you, so no wonder you resorted to occasional clubbing with your friends.

“Husk!” You enveloped the demon cat in your arms, earning a noise of complaint. “Rude.”

“I don’t take affection lightly.” He patted your back awkwardly and let you settle into the booth with him. “What took you so long?”

You roll your eyes, “Charlie wanted to invite the stupid Von Eldritch boy over. I at least had to set some ground rules.”

“She’ll disobey them.” Husk shook his head and ordered a whiskey. “You know her.”

“Yeah yeah.” You wave him off and order your own drink, tapping your nails against your flip phone. “Do you know if Alastor’s here yet?”

“Why, I would like to believe I’m here, darling.” The Radio Demon formed in front of you. Husk muttered something toward your direction, Alastor’s grin sharpening at the action. “I’ve brought along some acquaintances if you don’t mind.”

You look up before sipping your drink. “Yeah, what you’ve brought is a doll, a moth, and a tv— Ow.” You rubbed your arm where Husk jabbed you, glaring at him.

Your eyes drifted toward the three demons Alastor brought with him, tilting your head at the height differences. You learned that the shortest amongst them was Velvette. Out of the three of them, she seemed to be the one with the most fashion sense as she nitpicked everyone else’s clothing in the establishment. Her accent was heavy, leaving you to wonder what she said half of the time.

“Oh god, that bitch is wearing wrist ruffles! Someone burn it.” She spoke in distaste at the demon.

“Vel, she’s already wasted, don’t give her any more ideas.” The moth blew out pink smoke, watching the young demon stumble across the dance floor.

For a moth, he was the tallest demon between the three of them, towering over everyone even while sitting. He introduced himself to be Valentino… The porn demon. He gave you goosebumps from sitting across you. And for being the princess of hell, that means a lot. He seemed to be eyeing all the younger demons, his single gold tooth flashing when he grinned at them.

“Val, come dance with me.” Velvette dragged him out of the booth, not waiting for a response. “Voxy, you’re welcome to join.”

You shifted your gaze over to the TV demon, watching him politely decline the offer. He definitely kept you guessing. When you first saw him, he was reserved and only spoke to those he came with. However, he eventually started to loosen up, taking shots with Valentino. And for a demon with a TV box for a head, he was quite interesting.

“You’re not gonna dance?” You stir your red straw in your drink, catching the demon’s attention. “It seemed like Velvette wanted you to join them.”

“Dancing with big crowds isn’t my thing.” He swirled a claw over the rim of his glass and met your eyes. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Your eyes drift over to Husk ordering another whiskey at the bar, Alastor hot on his tail.

“Why aren’t you dancing?”

“I wasn’t up to it, but now that you mention it—“ You tilted your head back and downed your drink, not noticing the glitching TV beside you. “—You have to come dancing with me.”

“I don’t think—“

You click your tongue, pushing your drink away. “Just one song? If you don’t want to, you can leave when we get there.” You take his hand and pout, using the face your father gave you to make it more convincing. “Please?”

He huffed but let you drag him to the dance floor, moving his hand to your hip when you hit the center of the huge crowd. “You know, I’m starting to think he just invited me out to be more social with his friends.”

“Al and I are barely friends, but how is that working out for you?” You question as the red light glares against your skin.

He shrugged as his voice dripped with sarcasm. “Depends on how well I’ve been talking to the people he introduced me to.” He tugged you closer to you when drunk demons pushed against your body. “Do you even remember my name?”

You open your mouth but promptly shut it, cheeks flushed at the confrontation. “I know it! I just… Don’t want to say it.”

“Holy shit, you don’t know my name.” He spun you in his arms, smirking at your pink face. “It’s Vox, by the way.”

“I knew that.” You say with a teasing tone, laughing when he dipped you. “I bet you don’t know my name.”

Your name fell from his mouth smoothly, making you scoff in annoyance. “I believe everyone knows who you are, princess.”

You avoided his gaze after the nickname spilled out of his lips. Sure, you were called princess multiple times by many demons. But the way Vox said it made butterflies appear in your stomach, a different kind of goosebumps appearing across your skin.

As the song came to an end, you learned a lot more about the TV demon in front of you within those last six minutes than you learned from Husk in the last two years. Returning to your booth, your phone vibrated in your pocket as you excused yourself from your company. Charlie’s name lit up your screen, making you curse.

You went back over to the booth to find Vox covering your unfinished drink with his hand, glancing at his own phone. “Hey, I have to go. Sorry for cutting our discussion short. My sister called and—“

“Don’t worry! It’s not an issue! Your family is clearly important sooo…” Vox rubbed the back of his neck, tugging at the turtleneck. “Before you go, can I ask you something?”

“What’s up?” You look back up at him after shooting a text to Charlie.

His screen turned pink as your attention went back to him, all confidence leaving his system. “I was wondering if you would like to meet up again. Sometime? Not in a club possibly?”

Your face warms at his words, at a loss for your own response. “Uh.. Yes! Of course, let me just get your contact info.”

“Right!” He felt the inside of his jacket for a pen, taking your hand a scribbling down his number. “Just give me a call whenever you can.”

You smiled at how fast he switched from confident to shy within seconds. “Of course.”

“Oh my god.” You mumble as you watch your father converse with the store’s employees animatedly, rubbing your temples at the sight.

Charlie snickered at your expression as he summoned a rubber duck he was working on. “You can’t tell me you weren’t expecting this when we went out today.”

“No, I knew.” You turn away from your father’s embarrassing encounter and flick through different dresses on the rack behind you instead. “I think knowing this would happen made it a hundred times worse.”

Since Lilith left, Lucifer took it upon himself to treat his daughters out to buy their own clothing at least once a month. He just always got distracted by showing other demons his creations.

“Char, do you think I could pull this off?” You pull a dress from the rack and put it against yourself, staring at the mirror with your nail between your teeth. You quite liked it, but you weren’t sure if you would wear it more than once—

“Personally, I think you would look amazing.” A voice that was distinctly not Charlie came from your left.

You whipped your head over as your face reddened at the TV demon. “Shut up, Vox.”

“I’m serious! You would look great in that.” He fully came into your view, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “Didn’t expect to see you today.”

Humming, you walk back over to the rack and examine the rest of the dresses, Vox close behind. “My dad wanted to take Charlie and I out.” You glanced up at him when you pulled out a maroon dress, silently asking for his opinion. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, this is Velvette’s own designer store.” He cleared his throat, eyes darting toward the sign that had his business partner’s name under it. “She sent me to check on the stock or something.”

“Did you?” You question as you scan over the prices on the dresses, clicking your tongue. “Check on whatever she needs you to check on, I mean?”

He shrugged, “You distracted me, princess.”

You flush pink again at the name, bumping him with your hip. “Go do your job, Vox.”

“It’s not my fault I saw you!”

“Yes, it is!” You tease with an accusatory finger to his chest. “I’m an innocent bystander—“

Charlie rounded the corner of the store looking for you, eyes brightening when seeing your figure. “Hey, dad’s asking for you— Oh!” You and Vox separated swiftly, eyes wide at the young Morningstar. “Uh, am I.. interrupting something? Orrr…?”

“No no, you’re fine, Charlie.” Your face remained warm, not meeting your sister’s eyes. An awkward silence filled the room before Vox cleared his throat, making you spring into action. “Right! Charlie, this is Vox. Vox, Charlie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Charlie.” Vox gave her a polite smile, squeezing your hip. “Your sister talks a lot about you.

Charlie practically glowed at the confession, looking over at you for confirmation. “It’s nice to meet you as well!” She glanced at the two of you in suspicion. “I’m sorry to cut your… Meeting? Uh, short, but our dad needs her…”

Vox squeezed your hip one last time before pressing a quick kiss to your temple, soft static emitting from the spot. “I’ll text you later.”

“Bye.” You give him a lovesick look as you nod, walking over to a grinning Charlie.

“Soooo…” Charlie looked back, watching the TV demon’s screen become crimson with small electric hearts appearing. “Who was that?”

“Vox.”

She rolled her eyes at your bluntness, “Okay, obviously! But who is he?”

You fiddle with the hangers in your arms, not meeting her eyes. “He’s a guy… That I’m seeing… Currently…”

“Oh. My. Gosh!” She squeezed your arm with excitement, bouncing with every step. “Why didn’t you tell me? That’s super exciting!”

“I didn’t want Dad to find out.” You shake your head at the thought. “He’s been a bit overprotective with who we hang out with recently.”

Speak of the devil, he’ll appear.

“GIRLS! COME MEET THIS NICE YOUNG WOMAN!”

You and Charlie looked at each other while wincing, slowly approaching your father.

“Charlie!” You yell from your bathroom, rushing over to your walk-in closet. You sift through your dresses, looking for the maroon dress.

“What?” She yelled from your bedroom, giving KeeKee stomach rubs.

Swiftly, you snatch the dress off the hanger and run back over to the bathroom, throwing your towel over the shower and slipping into the dress. “Can you run downstairs and make sure Dad doesn’t open the door? Vox is coming to pick me up—“

“Why can’t you do it?” She groaned, flopping down onto your bed

“Because I’m not done dressing!” Your eyes flash red in annoyance with small horns poking out of your head as you peek over at the young demon. “The staff has the day off today because it’s the end of the month, and I really don’t want Dad to open the door.”

Charlie muttered something incoherent before leaving the room, KeeKee right by her heels. To be fair, you were a little rude, but you had the right to be. You were terrified for your father to meet Vox. Not that Vox was horrible, but your father's protectiveness started to rise much faster these last couple of months. As you were finishing up your makeup, your phone rang, followed by a groan coming out of your mouth.

“Hello?” You picked up your phone, slipping on your red heels and gold jewelry.

“Hi, princess.” Vox’s voice came through the cellular device, making you smile.

“Are you here already?” You glance at the clock in your room and curse at the time, running down the stairs.

He chuckled awkwardly, “Yeah, but uhm, your dad looks like he’s gonna kill me.”

“Fuck, okay, give me a second.” You shut your phone and open a portal to the front door instead of running all the way down to the foyer. “Hey, Dad!”

“Sweetie, who the hell is this guy?” Lucifer glared at the TV demon. Vox buffered at the comment, embarrassment filling his system.

You wedge yourself in between the two, whispering an apology to Vox. “Dad, this is Vox. Vox, my dad..”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mister Morningstar.” Vox offered his hand but slowly lowered it as he received no reaction.

“Uh-huh.” Lucifer looked at him up and down. “And who exactly is he?”

You hold the urge to laugh at how similar Charlie was to your father but snap back to reality when you hear Vox’s fans turn on.

“He’s my…” You glance back at the demon behind you before down at your father, linking your hands with Vox’s. “Vox is my boyfriend.”

“Your what now?” He stared at you with wide eyes, gaze shifting from the now bright pink demon to his darling daughter.

“My boyfriend.” You say again with more assurance. “We’ve been together a bit after Alastor introduced us—“

“The radio demon?” Lucifer made a face of disgust. “Okay, well you can come back inside the house and you—“ He pushed Vox out while pulling you in. “—Can leave my property.”

“Dad!” You tug Vox back to your side, apologizing once more for your father’s actions. “I’m going out with him tonight.”

“Oh, c’mon. He’s associated with the stupid radio—“

“I’m friends with Alastor!” Your eyes flash red again but calmed once Vox squeezes your hand. You blink before speaking again, taking a deep breath. “Listen, can I just go out? I’ll be back later.”

Lucifer sighed, rubbing his temple. “You’re happy? He makes you happy?”

You nod while smiling up at Vox, “Very.”

“And you’ll watch over her?” He looked over at Vox, brow raised at the demon.

“Yes, sir.” Vox squeezed your hand again.

He bit back any words of annoyance and gave a strained smile to the both of you. “Have fun on your date, sweetheart.”

You grinned and pulled him in for a hug, “Thank you! Love you!”

“Alright, just be back by midnight.” He flicked his hand which set a timer over the doorway. “Be safe.”

“We will!” You take Vox’s hand again and drag him away from the door. “That was easy.”

Vox furrowed his brows at your statement, wrapping his arm around your hip. “For you, maybe. He looked like he wanted to murder me.”

You shrug your shoulders, “You’ll get used to it.” You give him a proper look, tugging at his tie when you thought you were far enough from your father’s gaze. “You look handsome as always.”

“You look…” He pulled you close by the waist, smirking as you flushed red. “Beautiful.”

You push up on your toes and press a kiss to his lips, hands coming up to the sides of his screen. He hummed and pulled you closer, thumbs rubbing circles by your hip.

“HEY! BACK UP, BUDDY!” Lucifer yelled from the door, full demon form out on display.

You chuckle when Vox glitches, patting his chest. “Sorry, handsome.”

“STAY TEN FEET AWAY FROM HER!”

Rolling your eyes, you turn around and let your own demon form come out. “DAD!”

453 notes · View notes

clone-anon · 1 month ago

Note

hello💙 I hope you are having a wonderful day! I’ve been struggling lately and your blog is such a big comfort for me 🫂 May I make a request please? I am autistic but high masking lower support needs but lately I’ve been feeling so lonely and broken inside. If you have time would you mind doing something about a similar female bonding with Tech romantically or the batch as a whole platonically, or even both smooshed together? I can’t thank you enough for helping me get through the tough days!🫂

Of course! I relate to this too, so hopefully this helps.

Tech x Reader with some brotherly batch love too

You worked as quickly as you could while Tech flew. Of course something had to break during an incredibly boring supply run. Hunter watched you and sighed. He wasn't sure how to help and just gave Wrecker a look. All Wrecker and Crosshair could really do was watch over you since they weren't sure how to make the task go any faster and it seemed to be upsetting you.

Your mind flew with everything that needed to be accomplished to get the data pad in working order. Each little piece had a job and you and Tech were the only ones who had spent any time really examining everything. You were both dependable when it came to these kind of things. You put up a good face, but it was starting to break. It was as if by working faster you could get the job sooner before the inevitable collapse of your spirit.

You closed up the back of the data pad and pushed the buttons. It worked now and Crosshair quickly took it from your hands. He wasn't harsh, but a nod of thanks and a silent acknowledgement that he knew you needed a break. Wrecker scooted over so you could sit next to him as Tech and Echo flew the ship. You were too zoned out to hear Hunter's worried comment about you. Echo was worried too. He could see the burnout coming, something not wholly unfamiliar to him, but he didn't know what to do. You seemed too stubborn to actually rest as if not taking care of things meant you were somehow lost.

"She needs to rest," Tech said. "I confess I don't know how to help."

"We make you sleep," Echo replied flatly.

"Yes, but I am comfortable with all of you. She does not know us as well."

Hunter calmly answered, "I know that, but I think you're the best one to connect with her. Besides, she likes you. We can all see that."

"Very well," Tech said. "I will do my best."

Once the ship landed, everyone hopped onto the safety of Pabu once again. Wrecker, Crosshair, and Hunter worked to unload the supplies while Echo comm'd Rex with some intel. You wandered over to join the boys, but Tech approached you and cleared his throat.

"Do you mind joining me?" he asked.

You followed him down the path to a quiet spot. Two birds chirped and flew off toward another tree. Tech shifted where he sat.

"You are struggling," was all he could say.

"Is it that obvious?" you asked with a sinking heart.

"Not to most people, I imagine."

You sat silently for a moment before he reached out his hand, palm up. An offering. You placed your hand in his and felt a gentle squeeze and with that a wave of emotion crested throughout you. He put his other hand on your back.

"I feel so disconnected," you let out. "What is wrong with me?"

"Absolutely nothing," he assured.

You both noticed you were still out in the open. Tech tried to shield you from the walking path nearby, but you shook your head.

"Can we go back to mine?" you asked.

He nodded and you led the way, still holding his hand. It was a short walk you both knew well and you breathed a sigh of relief once the door was closed behind you.

"I am not sure what to do in this situation," Tech admitted. "What would help?"

You knew but felt a little scared to say. You were used to taking care of yourself and being as little a burden as possible. Your insides rattled with need while your mind tried to calm you in the familiar way you'd tamed it to. Tech just looked at you, waiting. Before you could stop yourself you started walking to the bedroom, took your boots off, and sat on the bed.

"I am unsure what you-"

"Hold me," you interjected. "Nothing more. I need to be close to someone."

"Ah." Tech took his own boots off and laid down on the bed and opened his arms to welcome you in.

He added, "When we were cadets and I was overwhelmed, Wrecker would hold me. It helped. This is different, of course."

"Yeah?" you softly inquired.

"Yes," he said with a soft honesty. "I care for you deeply and in a different way."

You pressed yourself closer to him and could hear his heart beat. The rhythm was soothing.

Tech thought for a moment and asked, "Do you often feel alone?"

"Yeah," you admitted.

"I have always had my brothers, but I understand the loneliness of not being understood."

You looked up at him with sad, but hopeful eyes and nodded.

"Maybe we can have each other," you suggested.

"We do have each other," Tech said. He instinctively rested his cheek on the top of your head.

A shiver went down both your spines as the sky darkened through the window and it started to rain. You reluctantly grabbed an extra blanket and tossed it over him before he opened up his arms to what now felt like a safe cocoon.

"Is this alright?" he asked as you tried to get comfortable again.

You nodded and asked if he was okay. He nodded back at you and held you close. The contact was as soothing as feeling understood. You both knew what it was like to hold many thoughts and feelings and while there was much left unsaid, this was the beginning of a deep love.

#tech x reader #tbb tech x reader #tbb tech #the bad batch tech #the bad batch #tbb fanfiction #tech lives #reader insert #tech x fem reader #tbb tech x fem reader #fem reader #autistic reader #tech x autistic reader #tbb tech x autistic reader

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toska-writes · 1 year ago

Text

“Where the stars can shine”

Summary: the fighting never stops, and it never will so it’s in everyone’s best interest to find the calm moments when you can.

Pairing: The Bad Batch x padawan!reader (OF COURSE THIS IS PLATONIC)

Warning: none just so much fluff!

Word count: 1261 (not proof read but what did you expect)

Notes: IM WATCHING THE NEW BAD BATCH SEASON AFTER THIS! So this is my way of manifesting everyone being alright to end the show 🥲

The war never ended, nor would it for anyone who has endured it and its intensity.

One fight always rolled into another and nothing could be done to stop it. The only way to get through it was to find the little cracks in all the bad. The place where the sun could shine and the flowers could grow.

Or in this case, the stars could twinkle.

"This is already too high for me." Wrecker stated loudly hauling himself up the side of the Marauder.

Crosshair, who was currently under Wreck scoffed to himself before clambering up the side like it was nothing. "You never seem to have that problem when we're in the air." He quipped.

"Well I'm inside then." He whined finally being assisted by Hunter who had the small hands of Omega making sure he didn't fall.

You could only laugh at the scene, leaning back on Echo you could feel him laugh too.

"Who do you think's falling off first?" You ask with a smile that was masked by the moonlight.

"The real question is," Echo leaned forward, surprised a little bit that the top of the marauders could fit 5 fully grown clones plus omega and the Jedi padawan. "Who's going to be pushed off first."

You looked back towards him and in an instant you spoke the same word together. "Tech."

Speaking of the devil, Tech's voice rang out as you looked over to where he had an arm pointing something out beyond the horizon.

"-and if you look there you'll be able to see Endor"

Omega's eyes lit up brighter than they have been in the past few days, nothing seemed to be going right for that bad batch no matter how much they tried.

"Have you guys been there?" Omegas eyes scanned the rest of her family that sat gazing with her. The sky on this backwater planet was surprisingly clear, clearer than you thought it would be.

"Eh once or twice." Hunter shrugged it off with a smile as all that Omega could do was gawk up at her big brother.

"Thats an understatement." Crosshair added quietly from beside you. With a nudge to your shoulder he added. "That meat-head over there blew up more than half the forest and got us kicked out. For life."

"Hey!" Wrecker let go of his strong grip of the Marauder with one hand to wave it at the sniper.

Omega giggled giving you a glance as you could help but laugh at the exchange. "Have you?"

You could only smile at the found memories the question brought you. Landing with your Master on a planet you've never even heard of at that time. The trees the towered over you and the abundant shades of green that you didn't even know existed. The faint sound of your master laughing as you stared up from the base of the tall trees fathomed by the hight.

"Yeah I went once I think during the Clone Wars. It was beautiful there." You spoke, the smiles spread from Omegas face to Hunters as he watched you retell the fond memories.

"Well I also did kinda crash into a tree there but other than that the rest was beautiful." Echo hide his laugh behind you as you told the more embarrassing part of the trip.

"I think I did hear about that one." The ex arc trooper spoke out. You shoved him back slightly as your gaze returned to the stars above.

"Now if you all turn your gazes eastward you can spot the Orion constellation which should also mean the Canis Major is pretty close." Tech pointed upward now, his own eyes locked tightly on the stars.

"That one has the brightest star in the whole galaxy right?" Omega filled in, whether Tech wanted to continue himself or not he could only beam down at the girl, who clearly heard this from him before.'

You smiled also recounting when Tech probably told the group for the first time.

The bounty hunters came from nowhere that day, Omega gripped on the back of Echo's armor plate with tears streaking down her face clearly scared.

Tech stood above you the, a data pad scanned over you as Hunter tried to apply some pressure to a wound you sustained on your side. Wrecker and Cross stood around the group, the sniper's gaze fixed on the darken horizon beyond.

Panicked breath sounded out and flown into the barren night, as much as you didn't want to scare Omega more you really could help it. You were scared yourself.

"Do you see that over there." Tech took your free arm in his hand and pointed up to the looming sky with it. "That really bright star?"

You were pulled back from your thoughts with the slightest nudge from Crosshair who spared you a glance, nobody else seemed to notice his movements

"I want to go to all of those planets one day." The words were light from Omega, a smile still evident in her voice.

"You'll definitely need to learn to fly then." You added shooting a look at Tech who finally spared a glance at someone else and was immersed in taking pictures of the different planets and constellations.

"If you can find another ship." Tech said mater-o-factly with a finger in the air.

"Aweeee Tech." Omega did the only thing she could think of, huge tooka eyes found Tech and with the pout of her bottom lip you could almost see the moment Tech cracked.

"More contemplation will be needed for that"

Though Omega wasn't disappointed for long as Crosshair whispered to her. "That's practically a yes."

Hunter laughed now shoving Crosshair back into a lying down position. He noted that his brother looked quite different without his armor, but it was a sight he could get used to.

Opening his mouth Tech was about to defend himself before a snore racked through the air.

"Put someone else to sleep too Techy." Crosshair jabbed a finger at wrecker who still seemed to gripped the ship tightly.

You couldn't blame him though, and is wasn't just because of Tech talking, but you did insist the stars and planets were best to see in the late night. A yawn stifled through you, Echo wasn't the warmest person but the arms that wrapped around you from the clone seemed to do it.

"It's not even that late." Omega protested but her heavy eyelids seemed to contradict her own words.

"No no, we all can't fall asleep up here or it's going to be a pain getting down." Omega curled up into Hunters chest as he spoke. He slowly started to get up.

"One of us should get Wreck." Your own eyelids battled against you as you fought to sit up.

"On it." Crosshair was the last person who you thought would offer but as his leg extended you watched Wrecker rolled over the side.

His startled yell was masked by the thud of him hitting the soft grass below.

"See it wasn't even that far." The skipper shrugged pushing himself over the edge and landing gracefully with even using the side to get down.

You chuckled as you rolled your eyes at the brothers were up to their old antics.

The chill air was a good contrast to the heated days that came before, so much fighting it seemed that it would never end.

Moments like these would always be cherished, and surprisingly Tech wasn't the one to get pushed off the Marauder.

_____________________________________

Taglist:

@arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu @verybadatwriting @solstraalaa @ray-rook @gregorsmissingarmor

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bountyhunter1409 · 1 year ago

Note

Hello there ma’am! I was wondering if I could request a headcanon with Hunter & Tech? And if they had a s/o who’s pretty forgetful? This is up to you but thank you so much! 🙏

author's note: thanks for your request, anon! Hope this is what you're looking for!

warning(s): none, just fluff

divider by: @plutism

"Is this going to be a reoccurring habit?"

At first, Tech believed your forgetfulness simply to be that of human error—a once in a blue moon type of thing that he could easily look over.

When it became clear that this was going to amount to an almost everyday obstacle...well, he became annoyed to say the least.

Forgetting how to pilot the Maurader was one thing —despite Tech having shown you the mechanics countless times—but forgetting your weapon when you needed it most was another bridge he couldn't risk crossing more than once.

Tech's annoyance, of course, was birthed from pure worry for your safety and everyone else's. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if something were to happen to you because you didn't have what you needed.

"Just trust me. After all, based off of prior instances, I am the least forgetful out of the both of us."

Upon learning that your forgetfulness was going to be a reoccurring habit, Tech finds himself checking after you. Despite being an expert on the mechanics of ships, he'll take it upon himself to go behind you and check your work and question it.

At first it's insulting. You think he doesn't trust you, that you can't handle yourself.

In order to ease his anxiety, Tech even keeps a close eye on you whenever a new mission is set upon the squad.

He goes through a checklist of items you'll need right before the Maurader lands— listing them off out loud, as you confirm with a reluctant 'got it ' or a curt 'check'.

When you've shamefully tightened the straps on your boots, Tech senses your frustration annd walks towards you.

He places his hand on the small of your back, pulls you close to him and kisses your forehead, before pressing your foreheads together.

"Now, are you sure you've got everything?"

"Tech!"

"Are you...uh, forgetting something?"

Yeah...you're a bit of a liability to Hunter.

Given that he already has Omega to worry about, he's not at all thrilled that you're forgetfulness pops up more than he would've liked. But thankfully, he isn't as blunt as Tech about your misgivings.

In fact, Hunter tries to help you out.

He's already packing an extra blaster in case you forget yours. He sets aside a knife just for you to keep in case of emergencies. He's always at your side during missions just in case he has to catches you when you fall. Or rather, remind you.

"I just want you safe."

Of course, at some point you start to think Hunter believes you're incapable of taking care of yourself. Or being beneficial tot he squad.

This is far from the truth in Hunter's eyes. So much so, he pulls you aside one quiet night on the Maurder.

His hands settle on your waist lightly and your hand resting against cheek. The skin under your fingertips is scarred with wrinkles birthed from exhaustion.

Without saying a single word, you have a feeling you were the cause of those tired lines on his face.

"Is this about the incident on Ord Mantell?" you whisper in the dead of night. You cringe, recalling you had forgotten what position you were supposed to be in just before the rancor came charging at you. Hunter had stepped in front of you, taking the bulk of the force so that you didn't have to.

The next day Hunter woke up more sore than usual.

Hunter is amused by this, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards at the memory.

He shakes his locks and brings you close to him in an embrace, his chin resting on the top of your head.

"Perhaps we'll have you stationed in the ship for the next mission. You and Omega both."

It's a joke, because you both know you and Omega are too stubborn to sit and watch the others on a mission.

You laugh at as you lightly hit his chest armor. Hunter grunts playfully. Before you can fully pull away, Hunter pulls back to him. It's this silent embrace that ensures you he only cares about your wellbeing.

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badbatchsprincess · 5 months ago

Text

The Dark Room

(Inspired by @aynavaano 's Dark Paradise)

Masterlist

I'm so obsessed with the fic mentioned above that I wanted to do my own spin on this amazing work! Enjoy!! and thank you @aynavaano for creating this spicy masterpiece

With the deep bass music thrumming through the floorboards, 79’s was busy as ever, with many battalions on shore leave, the club was packed nearly to the brim with warm bodies and the smell of Corellian fine liquor and Republic supplied beer.

Binx squeezed inside, looking for the recruitment officer that had told her to meet him and the other civ medics to get to know some of the men she’d be shipping out with in two days. Of course 79’s was naturally the best place to meet the clone troopers without all the pleasantries required on base.

She pushed through the crowd of muscular bodies, passing by the various cliques of clones dancing together until she reached the packed bar sliding between two men engrossed in conversation.

Go-go dancers danced on some elevated surfaces showing off their fit bodies and sparkly outfits nearly mesmerizing her like a undarian serpent charmer. Binx had never seen something like this on the lower levels. Most of the bars were too seedy and sketchy to spend too much time in anyways so this was like an entirely new world to her. The girls were beautiful.

“Hey! Binx!” She spun around seeing the Nat-Born officer approaching, waving a hand to her along with some other nats trialing behind. She took off towards them happy to see some familiar faces, “Hi!”

“Saw you come in, sorry I didn’t know it was going to be so busy tonight, most the boys have come back to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

He smiled, “Yeah, there was victory on Mimban. Everyone’s relived to be home.”

Binx looked around wide eyed. She studied the crowd watching the way the soldiers threw back their cups of beer and cheered.

She couldn’t help but smile, their excitement was contagious.

“So what’s your name?” One of the other civ-medics asked.

“Binx!” She yelled over the noise, “What's your names?”

“Coves.”

“Locke.”

“Layla!”

“Rain!”

Binx shook their hands in greeting, before settling into the booth listening to their various stories of their exploits while stationed.

They were all telling her about their next adventures before asking where she was going to be placed, “I don’t know yet!” Binx replied with a shrug.

“Hopefully you’ll be on a Jedi Venator, they’re usually the most comfortable. Field work is difficult.” Layla purred into her cup.

“Hey, I like the field work! You get to see all the action.” Coves smirked.

“Yeah, you would like that.” Layla rolled her eyes.

“Hey,” A deeper voice with a mandalorian accent came from her side, “I haven’t seen you around here before… Care to dance?”

Binx looked at the clone soldier before looking at her friends. Layla waggled her brows encouraging her to go, so she decided to say fuck it, and took the troopers’s hand.

He smiled happily before dragging Binx out onto the floor, “I don’t know how to dance!” She laughed letting him spin her around messily.

“No worries! Neither did we!” He laughed bringing the medic closer, “So, you a new recruit?”

“Yeah!” She smiled stepping to the beat, trying to move the way everyone else was.

“Lucky me.” He moved to the beat, “Where you from?”

“Lower levels!” Binx replied turning around to grind back against him experimentally.

“Got a name, lower levels?”

“Binx.” She leaned back against him feeling his warm strong chest against her back, “You?”

“Fives.”

“Fives?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his head, “My CT number is all fives, so thats my name.” He pointed to some other soldiers in similar colors, “That’s Echo, Dogma, Rex, and Tup.”

“I like your names.” Binx spun around to face him keeping him close. This dancing was fun she realized. He boldly moved his hands up and down Binx’s sides feeling the fabric of her clothes along with her curves. She purred as his hands confidently bunched the sides of her dress tugging her even closer.

“Yeah?” He smirked pushing some of her hair back over her shoulder, “Wanna meet them?”

“Maybe later.” Binx returned the smirk and pushed up against his body, liking the way he felt against her.

He was ridiculously attractive. The holonet videos only did so much, but seeing these soldiers in person, it was actually stunning to see and feel how attractive they are in real life.

“So, you’re in the medic program?” Fives asked swaying along with Binx’s smaller frame.

“Yeah, I’ve been in school for a few years and I was offered the opportunity. I want to get off this planet and see the galaxy.” Binx studied Fives’ honey brown eyes.

He nodded, “Looking to join the action?”

“Not sure.” Binx shrugged, “I’ve never been in a conflict zone before.”

“Well just make sure to listen to the captain and you’ll be fine.” Fives bent down to spin the medic around again bringing her ass to his front as he moved the two of them to the music.

Binx giggled and laughed which made Fives smile in return. The two of them danced for two more songs before deciding it was definitely time for a drink, to which Fives lead her to the bar and shoved over his brothers to make room for her in the booth.

He ordered something fizzy which Binx was pleasantly surprised by while Fives downed a shot of something hard.

Binx’s attention was then brought to a group of rowdy soldiers who play fought by the back most part of the club. They shouted and shoved one another as a couple fights broke out making fives scoff.

“Probably fighting over some girl again.” He knocked back another shot, “Can’t seem to stop the fighting off the battle field either.”

Binx’s eyes then trailed over to the staircase behind them slightly covered with a red curtain. She watched multiple people, nat-born woman, and clones ascend the stairs until they disappeared into a seemingly dark hallway.

“What’s over there?” Binx asked pointing to the back of the building.

Fives followed her finger and looked over the brawl to see the stairs.

He smirked.

“What?” Binx asked playfully. Fives just grinned.

“That’s the dark room.” He picked up a glass of water and took a sip.

Binx scrunched her brows, “The dark room?”

Fives looked at the little medic with a mischievous grin, “Some nat-borns want to fuck clones. The dark room is an anonymous hook up. Totally pitch black in there, you can’t see a thing. Nat borns get to work out their kinks and the soldiers get laid. It’s a win-win.”

Binx nearly choked on her drink.

“Like a brothel?” She giggled.

Fives laughed, “No, it’s not a brothel. Everyone’s a consenting adult. It’s just a place to blow off steam.”

Binx then turned to face the bar and tilted her head towards Fives, “Have you been?”

“Yes ma’am.” He replied.

Binx finished off her drink and set the glass down.

“Wanna go?” Fives proposed suddenly. He waggled his brows playfully making Binx suck in a gasp.

Binx’s heart suddenly fluttered and began to beat faster than the music.

She turned to face Five’s who wore quite the smoldering gaze which was suddenly fixated on Binx’s blushing face. He couldn’t explain it, but this little medic was quickly growing on him. Her eagerness to experience the world was attractive. She was damn beautiful too. His pants tightened slightly thinking about her plush ass up against him again. Fuck, he prayed she said yes.

What Five’s didn’t know, was that Binx’s panties were growing wetter by the second. The idea of Fives having her in a dark room full of strangers, hot and sweaty, made her bite back a pathetic whine.

Binx thought about it, but the reality of her new job smacked her right in the face, “Isn’t that like something we probably shouldn’t do? I’m not a civvy anymore.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” He winked making Binks chew hew lip. He reached over running his fingers through her deep space black hair making her shiver as his fingers teased over the delicate skin of her neck.

Right as she was about to open her mouth to answer the clone, one of the aforementioned soldiers called him over.

“One second, cyare.” He pulled himself from the bar groaning at his friend, “What, Echo?”

Binks forced herself to take a shaky breath before turning back to the bar to order another shot for bravery.

What the hell is she thinking? She could be fucking posted with Five’s battalion and would make everything complicated if she went into that tempting room, but somehow she was finding it more and more difficult to care. The longer she watched him interact with his clearly stoic brother, she couldn’t help but drool over his broad shoulders and battle hardened figure.

Fuck.

Binx grabbed the shot of whatever the hell the bartender had passed her, and knocked it back like a champ letting the burning liquid warm her throat and belly.

She watched more and more people disappeared into the mysterious back room, and was starting to get antsy… and frankly… horny….

Deciding that life is too short, especially for nerves to get in the way, Binx decided she was going to be a proactive kind of girl.

She peeled herself from the bar counter and began maneuvering through the crowd until she approached the soldiers in blue. Zeroing in on her target, Binx outstretched her hand and ran her fingers gently across Five’s back, subtly getting his attention, as she continued walking past throwing a seductive look over her shoulder at the man before beginning her climb up the stairs to the dark room.

She briefly heard one of them mutter a low fuck, before she continued upstairs reaching the darkening hallway.

She heard him arguing with his brother begging him to let him go which made Binx smirk before she pushed through the first door. She knew Fives was close behind which made her entire body vibrate with new excitement. She realized she’d never done anything quite as adventurous as this before, but something about all this newness in her life was making her want to take advantage of every single experience she could get her hands on, which included letting Fives get his hands on her.

Once she pushed through that second door, she was entirely engulfed in darkness. This room was significantly different than the club. The energy was much heavier, and heady. Binx tried to take amount to adjust to the darkness, but she couldn’t, it was just that dark.

Inside, there was the scent of sex everywhere and the sounds of pleasured moaning and skin slapping against one another.

Deep vibrational music was playing making her entire body pulse. She heard the door close behind her, then the sensation of hands were on her and everything suddenly became hot.

Binx let out a startled yelp as the hands began to explore. All over the hands wandered and then suddenly she was brought back up against a tall and muscular figure. She reached out in the dark trying to feel for anything, but she was suddenly met with the chest of another.

“And who is this?” A very deep smoky voice snapped her head forwards. The man in front of her began to run his war worn hands over her shoulders up to her neck, brining his head forwards, he pressed his nose into Binx’s skin taking in her clean scent before licking up a stripe up to her pierced ear.

She sighed into the touch feeling his silky hair dance against her skin. She reached up, carding her fingers through his. It was long. Binx then felt along his face feeling his sharp jaw line making him chuckle.

“You smell so good, ad’ika.”

“I found her first.” The man behind Binx, drawled. His silvery voice sent a shiver down her entire thumping body. He cupped her breast possessively making her moan and lean into his warm body.

“You can share, trooper.” The man with the deep voice pressed a sloppy kiss to the woman’s neck making her melt against him. His arms wrapped around her body to support her as his incisions dragged teasingly against hear warmed skin.

The man behind her snarled before relenting, “Yes, Sarge.”

Sarge? Like as in Sergeant? Binx’s heart fluttered knowing a high ranking officer currently had his hands all over her, and his mouth. Fuck this was too hot for her to handle.

“Relax, little one.” Sarge purred, “We’ll take good care of you.”

She didn’t answer, she couldn’t, instead she just panted and moaned as the trooper behind her skillfully began to peel open her clothes. Skilled fingers undid her dress zipper until Sarge could peel it off of her. They worked like a skilled team as they stripped Binx down to her birthday suit. Once all of her clothes were on the floor, Binx was guided carefully down to the ground where she was met with a pile of pillows and more warm muscular bodies.

She moaned out as another set of even bigger hands wrapped around her and cupped her breasts and massaging them, rolling and pinching her hardening nipples making Binx absolutely purr at their attention.

“She sounds pretty.” The man currently pinching her nipples bellowed from behind her back. He certainly felt larger than the others. Binx wasn’t certain he was even a clone. But it didn’t matter, those thoughts were suddenly gone as more hands began to feel and touch and pull along her lithe body.

Hands then began to push her knees up and further apart as someone neared her core.

“Fuck, she’s wet.” The smoky voice said and Binx guessed he was the one currently nearing her core now dripping core. The suddenness of all of this was making her weaker by the moment. She couldn’t believe she was up in this room fucking total strangers.

She leaned back into the large man pinning her to his front while the others maneuvered around her.

Her chin was suddenly gripped before being turned to the side to be met with soft skilled lips. Binx moaned into the strangers mouth letting him take control of the kiss while the sergeant cupped her pussy. The hand on her chin traveled down to her neck where he applied delicious pressure making Binx squirm around in their possessive hold.

She moaned some more into the kiss as sarge began to finger her and prepare her while the others stimulated her body.

“Move over.” A different man now approached from her side to knock the one kissing her away. Her chin was grabbed once again, and angled to meet the new trooper. He was a lot less demanding than the other, and much more calculated as his tongue entered her mouth to explore.

Sarge then leaned forwards to bring his mouth to her cunt where he pressed sloppy kisses to her clit making Binx buck against him desperate for more.

“Fuck, please!” She bit out and squirmed.

They just chuckled and huffed a laugh before continuing their onslaught.

As sarge continued to lick and suck on Binx’s dripping core, her hand was guided to one of their fronts where she grasped a hard and hot cock. Binx gasped feeling its soft hardness as he began to stroke it slowly. She squeezed and pumped it feeling the trooper lurch forwards chasing the sensation.

Her other hand was guided to another, and then the first trooper gently lead her chin in the direction he wanted. She leaned forwards to open her mouth and experimentally lick his tip. He groaned quietly as she then took more of him inside her mouth.

“Fuck, her mouth feels good.” The silvery voice above her fisted her long hair, and guided her as he trusted faster into her waiting mouth.

Binx tried her best to suck him off despite the awkward angle.

She continued to jerk off the other man while Sarge now lined himself up with her entrance.

The man underneath her, shifted suddenly.

“Plan 25.” One of them barked and suddenly there was a whirl wind of motion.

Bodied rearranged themselves while, Binx was suddenly flipped onto her hands and knees and planted firmly on the pillows below.

Someone was behind her and in front of her now, and both cocks suddenly were pushed inside of her. Binx groaned around the cock in her mouth as the man behind her filled her to the brim.

Once again, that same hand threaded through her hair to guide her pace. Binx hollowed her cheeks and bobbed her head this time, doubling down to blow him better. He growled chasing his high while the man behind her plowed into her mercilessly.

Binx had to use every muscle she has to combat his thrusts before she was pushed too far onto the man in front of her accidentally gagging on the thick cock in her mouth.

“What a good girl.” The sergeant spoke from behind her.

She whimpered pathetically as the sergeant slithered his hand between her damp thighs to rub little circles on her throbbing clit.

Binx cried out feeling her own orgasm approach rapidly while the others did too. The man inside her mouth suddenly thrust forwards one last time shivering while cumming into her waiting mouth. Binx swallowed his cum eagerly, and licked him clean before starting to swivel her hips back against the sergeant making him squeeze her hips even harder trying to control himself.

“Fuck.” He bit out.

Suddenly there was a new man in front of her. Binx was guided to his leaking cock where she opened up her mouth for him to push forwards. He sighed feeling her warmth surround him as she got to work.

Sarge suddenly stopped his thrusts and surged forwards pumping his seed inside the deepest parts of Binx’s pussy. Sarge bowed forwards until his chest was resting on Binx’s arched spine. He pressed a few sloppy kisses on her shoulder before sitting up and pulling out letting a stream of his cum drip down her thighs.

“Mmm, my turn.” The fourth said excitedly before shuffling in behind her.

Binx was too busy sucking off the soldier in front of her to realize that the other man’s mouth was suddenly on her, licking her cunt like a desert.

She yelped as he ate her out from behind with no abandon. His tongue lapped at her clit and messy entrance making her shudder. He didn’t seem to give a fuck about his sergeant’s cum leaking out of her making her thrum with excitement.

“You ready, pretty girl?” He asked.

She made a face at the pet name knowing he can’t see her, or even know what she looked like, but she didn’t seem to care.

Binx muttered a “Mhmm.”

Before she knew it, she felt the thickest tip she’s ever felt in her life nudging at her entrance.

Binx squirmed around a little nervous at what she was feeling.

“Easy, mesh’la.” Sarge’s voice cooed from the side as his calloused hands petted her spine trying to calm her.

The one behind Binx began to push forwards stretching her impossibly wide as his cock breached her small entrance using sarge’s cum as lube.

“Fuck!” She cried out feeling her legs start to turn to jelly as she was impaled on his monstrous cock.

Binx heard the others let out a quiet chuckle as she struggled to adjust to his size. Clearly this has happened before…

Damn he was big.

Feeling her start to adjust, Binx bent forwards again to search out the other solder in front of her. Once she found him, she ran her hands along his sculpted abdominals making her flush. Fuck, were all troopers this cut? She was mesmerized at the sinew muscle covering his entire frame.

Then there was movement and Binx cried out again as the one with the massive dick started to thrust slowly.

Binx whined feeling absolutely overwhelmed with pleasure. Every single nerve inside her was being stimulated and she shuddered in his grasp. She was thankful he was there to hold her up because she’d be face first in the floor right now if it wasn’t for him.

Meanwhile, the soldier in front of her seemed like the most patient. He allowed her to get herself back together before helping her find his aching cock. She once again hollowed her cheeks and began to suck diligently, determined to make him cum too.

She felt him begin to stutter and then her mouth was suddenly filled with salty cum. Binx moaned as he came swallowing everything he gave her. She pressed a kiss to his abdomen before he retreated leaving her to be fucked boneless by Mr. Big Cock.

Binx’s wines flooded the entire room as she began to quake in his hold. Her orgasm took her by storm as she came around his length feeling a sudden burst of liquid from her core.

“Hell yeah!” He cheered feeling Binx squirt all over him, “Add another point, Tech!”

“You have an anatomical advantage, this competition hardly makes sense.”

Binx was too blissed out to hear a damn thing. All she remembered was more hands finding her skin and bringing her to another blinding orgasm.

The rounds began to blend together as she would be flipped onto her back, brought to her knees, standing on occasion, or the big man would pick her up and carry her around like a rag doll. And She had one mind blowing orgasm after another. Never in her life had she felt pleasure like this… her mind was barely cognizant.

By the time Binx had had it, and the troopers seemed sated, she wandered back to where ever her clothes had been dropped. She picked up whatever fabrics she could find and threw them on. Was she supposed to say something? Or just leave?

She realized saying something would probably take away from the anonymity of it all, and decided on the later. Clearly people only came here for one purpose…

Pulling on a random pair of someone’s cargos, and whatever t-shirt she could find, Binx stumbled out of the dark room feeling all the cum dripping out of her still. She had to take a few moments to regain her eye site in the dim hallway before trying her best to walk normally down the stairs.

When she re-enetered the club, she made for a quick exit so no one could see the state of her, especially her new friends at the medic unit.

Grabbing a cab, she headed straight home knowing she’d be sleeping until she shipped out….

~ Two days later ~

Feeling refreshed and rested, Binx reported in for duty at the GAR main hangar to find her assignment for the next 6 month campaign.

She straightened out her medics uniform and clutched her personal effects bag closely as she waited for the recruitment officer to hand her, her data pad.

She prayed her makeup covered up the love bites and bruising decorating her neck, that for the life of her, she couldn’t get rid of in time. The bacta only worked so fast and who ever had made them, had made sure they’d leave their mark.

“Alright, Layla you’re on base duty and processing. Coves you’re with the 212th and Binx, you’re with…” He double checked the information seeming to be slightly confused, “You’re with Special Forces, Clone Force 99… the Commandos.”

“Newbie gets all the action.” Coves groaned clearly disappointed with his assignment.

“Alright you all know where to go, Binx come with me.” The recruitment officer lead her down the tarmac towards a much smaller omicron attack vessel nestled in it’s own area of the hangar.

The Havoc Marauder.

She’s seen holonet specs of their ships before. Her heart fluttered with excitement knowing She’d be diving head first into all kinds of foreign places. The special forces units always got to go on exciting missions.

“Alright, Binx there ya go!” The recruitment officer turned on his heel to walk away leaving the medic a little perplexed and alone. So much for introductions.

“Umm.” She whipped her head around back to the ship before watching her officer disappear into the distance, “Alright…”

She turned back to the ship to walk forwards noticing that the boarding stairs were down and there was some commotion coming from inside.

Stepping forwards, Binx approached the ship, only to be stopped in her tracks when a tall goggled man came trotting out of the vessel while an equally as tall silver haired man flicked a tooth pick at him complaining about something.

They didn’t look like clones.

They stopped whatever they were talking about when the silvery one locked eyes on Binx. She stood there staring right back at them still clutching the strap of her duffle.

Then another man popped his head out from the ship’s door, “What-are-ya lookin at? Ooohhh…” The big man stood fully up right starting at the medic with wide eyes, “She’s Prettttyyyy….”

“You lost, kitten?” The silvery one plucked a fresh pick into his mouth crossing his arms.

Binx bristled squaring him up and resting her hands on her hips defiantly, “No, I’m your new medic.”

The silver haired one raised a brow skeptically.

“It would appear that information is correct.” The goggled one answered looking at his data pad.

“What the hell is taking you all so damn lo-“

That voice…

Binx’s body reacted immediately.

Her heart began to race and her core made a traitorous pulsing sensation as her heart sunk into the absolute pit of her stomach.

“Sarge?” The big one looked to their leader confused at the sudden change in behavior.

…Fuck…

“I believe there was a mistake.” Binx began to back peddle.

The silver one suddenly made a mischievous face and turned to their leader, “What, you fuck her or something?”

They all did.

Sarge just continued to stare at Binx smelling her very distinctly delicious scent he’s been trying to chase the traces of on their clothes for the past 48 hours. Fuck she was the woman at 79’s they spent hours debauching the other night before shipping out…

Binx however, was having flashbacks to the night int he dark room. That silvery voice and his possessive hands. The politeness of the goggled one, his properness seemed to predominant, then the large one. Binx had to swallow thickly remembering how much he had stretched her and fucked her into another universe. She could still feel the soreness as she stood there before them.

Sargent cleared his throat and descended the stairs.

“Apologies.” Sarge approached the medic, “I’m Sergeant Hunter, and this is Clone Force 99.” Okay, so he’s going with the oblivious route…

“This is Crosshair, Wrecker, and Tech.” He held out his hand to shake, which Binx took hesitantly feeling his familiar hands again made her struggle to breathe.

“I’m Binx, your new medic.”

“I wasn’t aware we were being assigned a medic, it was a bit of a shock.”

Binx smiled awkwardly, “Understandable.”

The two of them exchanged knowing looks briefly before he turned back to the ship, “I’ll show you around, we’ll have to figure out a bunk situation for you it’s a smaller ship than usual…”

She followed behind Hunter noticing the way Crosshair eyed her closely as she passed by.

Once she entered the ship, she first noticed the smell, then the disorderliness of the place. Hunter brought her towards the back showing her all of the compartments, the bunks, the gunner’s mount, the under belly, then finally the fresher before leaving her to settle in.

Binx realized the big one, named Wrecker, was uber curious about her. He watched her with child like fascination as she settled in. Meanwhile, the sniper named Crosshair was making her a bit unsettled. He watched every little micro movement she made as she tried to familiarize herself with the ship.

She remembered how passionate his kisses were and how possessive his hands were on her body, she were certain it was him who had choked her and fucked her face after attempting to claim her all for himself before Hunter had ordered him to share. That little tidbit of information made her body shiver.

Binx shuddered thinking about it. She could still feel the ghost of his touch on her skin.

“Take a picture it will last longer.” She barked out playfully as he unpacked her clothes. The sniper behind her didn’t made a sound as he peeled himself from the wall.

Without an invitation, he reached forwards taking Binx by surprise as he yanked back the collar of her uniform revealing the various love bites both him and Hunter had marred her with.

“Well aren’t you an adventurous little kitten.” He snarked.

She smacked him away readjusting the fabric.

“Hunter’s too polite.” He smirked cornered Binx towering over her, “But he recognized your scent the second he saw you…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Binx raised a brow.

Crosshair hummed and shifted the toothpick in his mouth, “And I remember putting my mark right about here…” He poked her neck right where the makeup was caked on, “You and Hunter can play dumb all you want… but know that I know.” He smirked making Binx’s core pulse.

He looked down at her like he knew exactly which memories were playing in the forefront of her mind at this very moment.

Crosshair then crossed his arms and playfully raised a brow, “I did find you first…”

#crosshair #star wars #tech #hunter #wrecker #echo #bad batch #smut #anonymous #smutty #xreader #reader insert #x female reader #one shot #hot as hell #imsorry #notsorry #theficwasjusttoogood

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