“Statistical Probability Of Love”

Palpatine: Sneezes

Fox, hiding in his vents, aiming a sniper through the slats: Bless you.

Palpatine, looking up: God?

Fox, cocking the sniper: You won't be seeing him where your going.

Hope nobody did this with Plo Koon and Commander Wolffe before!

Tumblr messing up the picture's quality again

The template by @mellon-soup under the cut!

Hey! I’m from Australia(Melbourne) too!! I had a request for a Wollfe X Fem!Reader where he has to rescue her but it’s like disneys Hercules where Meg says “I’m a damsel and I’m in distress, I can handle this” and it’s a bunch of cute banter and flirting and maybe some spice thrown in? Love your work! Xx

Hey lovely! Thank you for your request, I hope the below is somewhat what you were hoping for!

“Tactical Complications”

Commander Wolffe x Reader

Blaster bolts screamed overhead, debris rained from the shattered rooftop, and your heels—gorgeous, custom, Senate-issue—were now coated in soot.

Typical.

You were pinned behind the shattered remains of what used to be a speeder—now a flaming, sparking coffin. Your blaster was out of charge, your dress had a tear the size of a hyperspace route down the side, and your thigh throbbed from where shrapnel had bit deep.

So no, this wasn’t ideal.

But it wasn’t your first disaster either.

“You’re going to regret this,” you muttered to the squad of droids advancing with heavy steps. “Because I’m very well-connected, and also—” you raised the empty blaster like it was worth something, “—kind of terrifying when cornered.”

The droids didn’t seem impressed.

And then—

Blasterfire. Sharp, clean, precise.

Heads popped. Limbs flew. The last droid barely had time to turn before its chest caved inward from a single, well-placed bolt.

Smoke curled in the air as silence fell.

You didn’t look surprised when he stepped into view—tall, armored, and absolutely furious.

Commander Wolffe.

“You took your time,” you called, voice dry. “I was two seconds from charming them into an alliance.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at you—soot-smudged, limping, bleeding—like you were a glitch in his mission log he couldn’t delete.

“You’re injured.”

“You’re observant.”

He stormed toward you, ignoring your sass, and crouched beside your leg. “Hold still.”

“Careful,” you breathed, as his fingers brushed your bare thigh to check the wound. “You keep touching me like that, people might talk.”

“You’re bleeding through your sarcasm,” he said coolly. “Try being quiet for five seconds.”

You leaned closer, voice low. “That sounded suspiciously like a request.”

He looked up at you then, helmet off, one brow twitching with something like restraint. His hands were steady. His jaw—tight.

“You disobeyed direct evacuation orders,” he muttered, wrapping a field bandage tight. “And you think I’m the one being reckless.”

“I had intel,” you shot back. “I stayed to gather it. The mission mattered.”

“You nearly got vaped.”

“Please. I’ve had worse nights in the Senate.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. Just for a second. A crack in the façade.

“I should drag you out of here by your pretty little neck,” he muttered.

“Pretty?” you echoed, pretending to swoon. “Wolffe, I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t.”

“Liar.”

He lifted you with ease, one arm under your knees, the other around your back. You hissed through your teeth at the movement, clutching his pauldron.

“You don’t have to carry me.”

“I’m not arguing with a senator who thinks she’s immortal.”

You stared up at him as the evac ship loomed in view. “You’re angry.”

“I’m furious.”

You smirked. “And yet, you still came for me.”

His grip tightened.

“I always come for what’s mine.”

Your breath caught.

He didn’t look at you again, didn’t say another word. But you felt it—that heat simmering under all his armor, all his rules.

And you knew next time… he wouldn’t be so professional.

Switching between these every day

just learned people associate em dashes with chat gpt. Girl fuck you. You can pry em dashes from my cold dead hands. One of us is gonna have to stop using em— and it’s not gonna be me!

Hi! I’m not sure if you’ve heard of Epic the musical and the song “There are other ways” but I was thinking a Tech X Reader where he gets lost and comes across a sorceress and she seduces him and it’s very steamy? Lmk if this is ok, if not feel free to delete. Xx

“There Are Other Ways”

Tech x Reader

Tech had been separated from the squad before. Statistically speaking, given the volume of missions they undertook in unpredictable terrain, the odds were precisely 3.8% per assignment. He should have been more prepared for it—should have accounted for environmental disruptions, latent electromagnetic fields, or the possibility of the forest itself being… alive.

Still, none of that explained why his visor fritzed out the moment he crossed the river.

Or why the fog grew thicker when he tried to retrace his steps.

Or why the trees whispered his name like they knew him.

“Tech…”

He halted. The voice came from ahead—feminine, melodic. Not from his comm. And certainly not Omega playing a prank. She didn’t sound like a dream.

His grip tightened on his blaster. “Reveal yourself.”

And you did.

You stepped from the mist as if you belonged to it. Bare feet sinking into moss, the water licking around your ankles. The moon crowned you, making the fine threads of your cloak shimmer like woven starlight. Your gaze was ancient. Curious. Smiling.

“I’ve been waiting,” you said, voice like silk over steel.

Tech’s eyes narrowed behind his visor. “Statistically improbable, considering I had no intention of entering this region of the forest, nor becoming separated from my unit.”

“Perhaps I saw what you could not,” you said, tilting your head. “Or perhaps I called, and you listened.”

He ran a diagnostic scan. No lifeforms detected. No hostile readings. The air was too quiet.

“Are you… Force-sensitive?”

You laughed—a soft, knowing sound that made his stomach tighten.

“I’m something like that. Does it matter?”

“It very much does. If you are a threat, I am obligated to neutralize—”

But you were closer now. He hadn’t seen you move. Your fingers touched the edge of his armor with something like reverence.

“I’m not a threat unless you ask me to be.”

His breath hitched. Just once. Just enough for you to notice.

“You’re… a clone trooper. The mind of your little unit.” You circled him slowly. “Always calculating. Always thinking. Never letting go.”

“I find control to be preferable to chaos,” he said sharply.

“And yet,” you whispered, stepping behind him, your hand brushing the nape of his neck, “you walked into the chaos anyway.”

His fingers twitched. He should have stepped forward. Should have recalibrated his scanner. Should have moved—

But he didn’t.

Because something about your presence tugged at the part of him he kept locked away. The part he filed under unnecessary. Indulgent. Weak.

“Your body,” you murmured, lips brushing the shell of his ear, “wants what your mind won’t allow.”

He stiffened.

You smiled, warm and wicked, stepping in front of him again, your fingers now brushing the soft lining between his chest armor and undersuit. “You wear this like a wall. But you’re still a man beneath it.”

“I am not… easily manipulated,” he managed, though his voice had dropped, deeper than he liked.

“I’m not manipulating you, Tech.” You met his gaze. “I’m offering you a choice. You can walk away. Return to your mission. Your team. Your purpose.”

You stepped closer, and his breath caught as your hand slid beneath the edge of his cowl, your touch feather-light. “Or you can let go. Just for one night. Just this once.”

He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t. He could list a hundred reasons why this was an anomaly. A deviation. A risk.

And yet—

His hand came up, slowly, almost shaking. Not to stop you. To touch you. To feel you. To confirm you were real.

You leaned in.

“I can show you other ways,” you whispered.

Then your lips brushed his—tentative at first, waiting. And when he didn’t pull away, you deepened the kiss, slow and exploratory, as if trying to map the mind he kept so tightly wound.

Tech’s world tilted.

Because for the first time in years, he wasn’t thinking.

He was feeling.

And when he let his blaster fall to the moss, when his hands found your waist and pulled you against him, when he kissed you back with a desperation he didn’t know he had—

He wasn’t the mind anymore.

He was a man.

His breath stuttered.

Tech wasn’t used to this—not the heat rising in his chest, nor the sensation of lips ghosting down his neck like a whisper meant only for the softest, most hidden parts of him.

Your eyes drank him in—not with hunger, but with reverence. His freckles, his sharp cheekbones, the slight twitch in his jaw that betrayed the storm behind his glasses.

“You’re beautiful,” you said softly.

Tech blinked. “That is… an illogical observation.”

You smiled. “Then your logic needs reprogramming.”

He made a noise—half protest, half breathless laugh—but it caught in his throat when your hands touched the bare skin of his collarbone. Your thumbs pressed lightly into the muscles of his neck. Tech didn’t realize how tense he always was until he felt himself melting beneath your touch.

“Tell me to stop,” you whispered.

“I…” His voice caught. “I cannot.”

You nodded, leaning in until your forehead touched his. “Then don’t.”

He didn’t.

Instead, he kissed you—desperately this time, hands curling at your waist as if anchoring himself to something real, something grounding in the swirling chaos of magic and sensation.

You pressed against him, warm and solid and devastatingly soft. One hand curled into his hair, the other sliding beneath the edge of his armor as you slowly coaxed it free. Piece by piece, you helped him shed it—not forcefully, never rushing. Like a ritual. Like he was something sacred.

When the last plate fell into the moss with a thud, he stood before you stripped of all defenses, chest rising and falling in quiet, stunned silence.

“You’re still thinking,” you said gently, brushing your nose against his.

“I—always think,” he breathed.

“Then let me think for you tonight.”

He didn’t protest when you led him backward into the moss, the magic of the forest warming the ground like a living bed. You straddled his lap, kissing him slow, deep, like you wanted to memorize every stifled sound he made.

Tech’s hands roamed—tentative, reverent, needy. He touched like a man learning to live in his own skin for the first time. Every sigh, every moan, every tremble you pulled from him was a tiny rebellion against the order he clung to.

And gods—how he clung to you instead.

Your magic hummed beneath your skin, wrapping around his ribs like silk. It didn’t control him. It didn’t bend his will. It simply amplified everything he was already feeling, pulling him deeper into you, into this—the illusion, the escape, the exquisite loss of control.

Your mouths met again and again. His glasses were somewhere in the moss. His hands splayed along the curve of your back. And when you whispered his name, over and over, like it was the only truth left in the galaxy—

He whispered yours back like a prayer.

Like he had always known it.

Like logic had never mattered at all.

this place sucks im gonna drink six beers and jack off

“Theoretical Feelings”

Tech x Female Reader

⸻

“Tech, you’re smarter than you look,” you said, fingers flying across the datapad as you recalibrated the long-range scanner’s neural relays.

Tech didn’t even glance up. “Is that a compliment for my intelligence or an insult for my appearance?”

You smirked, biting the inside of your cheek. “Maybe both. You’ll never know.”

That got him. He looked at you over the rim of his goggles, blinking once. “You are remarkably cryptic for someone so precise in data analysis.”

“And you’re remarkably dense for someone with a photographic memory.”

He opened his mouth—no doubt to deliver a factually loaded rebuttal—but Omega’s groan from the doorway cut him off.

“Ugh, will you two just kiss already?”

Wrecker let out a bark of laughter from the other side of the room. “They’re both so smart and yet so stupid. It’s kinda impressive, honestly.”

Hunter passed by without even looking up from his weapon check. “I give it three more arguments before one of them short-circuits.”

Echo, lounging at the gunner’s console, rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen better communication from malfunctioning droids.”

You turned bright red. “We’re not—! I mean, it’s not like that.”

Tech, completely deadpan: “I fail to see the logic in a kiss solving anything.”

“Oh my stars,” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’d think two geniuses wouldn’t be so emotionally… constipated.”

Omega laughed as she flopped into a chair. “Is that what it’s called?”

“Yes,” you said, shooting Tech a sidelong glance. “He’s got a whole datacard full of tactical strategy, but apparently no folder for feelings.”

“I have folders,” Tech protested, indignant. “I just haven’t… opened them.”

You crossed your arms and leaned back in your seat. “Well, maybe you should. Before I go flirt with Echo just to see if he can keep up.”

Tech’s goggles glinted as he straightened, spine stiff. “That would be inefficient. Echo’s humor is marginally less compatible with yours. Statistically, I am the superior match.”

The room went dead silent.

Even Hunter looked up.

“…What?” Tech asked, genuinely confused. “Was that not the correct response?”

You blinked, lips parting, but nothing came out at first. Finally, you leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table.

“Tech,” you said slowly. “Are you… trying to court me via statistics?”

“Well, that is the language I am most fluent in,” he said, as if it were obvious. “I have also calculated the probability of your reciprocal affection to be relatively high, based on prolonged eye contact, increased heart rate during proximity, and your tendency to brush your hair back when speaking to me.”

Your face went completely warm. “You noticed that?”

“I notice everything about you,” he said plainly. “I simply haven’t known what to do with the information.”

Your heart stuttered—because for all his clinical language, there was vulnerability behind it. Soft. Honest. Tech didn’t lie. He just struggled to feel out loud.

You offered a small smile. “You don’t have to do anything… except meet me halfway.”

He tilted his head. “Can you define halfway in this context?”

You stood up, stepped in front of him, and placed your hand gently on the side of his face—just enough pressure for his breath to catch. He froze like a statue.

“This,” you whispered, “is halfway.”

“Oh,” Tech said softly, eyes wide behind his goggles. “I see.”

And then—slowly, cautiously, with all the finesse of a man defusing a bomb—he leaned forward and kissed you.

Echo let out a low whistle. Wrecker whooped. Omega cheered.

Hunter smirked to himself. “About time.”

When you pulled back, Tech looked dazed. Awestruck.

You grinned and nudged his shoulder. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Tech adjusted his goggles. “I must say… I found it remarkably agreeable.”

“You’re so weird,” you whispered, grinning.

He smiled back. “Yes. But apparently, I am your kind of weird.”

⸻

Has this been done yet

Scorch should be 100% silly but the man who cracks most jokes something something

Inspired by @minosprimeenjoyer's command batch version