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Tech x Male Mandalorian Reader; Kar'taylir Darasuum Gar

Characters: Mainly Tech, little snippets of the rest of the Batch.

Relationship: All platonic buddies, except for Tech near the end.

POV: 2nd (you/yours)

Pronouns: He/him

Species: Unmentioned, but you have a normal "human" head (so no horns, lukku, etc.)

Content: Angst to fluff, get really hurt (literally) and then comfort. You're an idiot who can't confess unless their life depends on it.

Warnings: Description of injury and cleaning wounds(ish). Some throwing up blood ig. Cringe lol

Notes: Fem aligned and/or women can interact, but please be respectful. This is a MLM x reader fic. Don't be weird. Thanks. "Kar'taylir darasuum gar" means "love you" in Mando'a- I couldn't find the equivalent for "I." Also- I’m in the progress of making a version for each Batch member 👍

Word count: 5,364

You sat in the co-pilot’s chair, arms crossed and leaning back. Tech sat in the pilot’s chair, tinkering with some self-made miniature droid. Everyone else was asleep, Echo in his hammock, Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair each in their respective bunks. The ship was decently quiet, except for Wrecker’s occasional snoring, which, honest to Kad Ha'rangir, sounded like a Venator class star-destroyer powering up. Contrasting the man’s tremendous snores, the hyper-drive produced a nice and constant low hum, with beeps sounding out every once in a while. Tech’s screws and wrenches would clang out, and the sound of sparks would startle you into a more awake state each time it occurred.

Although there was no way he could know, seeing as your helmet was facing directly out the view-port, you were staring from the corner of your eyes. Hard. The way he effortlessly moved his fingers across the droid, connecting and severing wires from point A to point B, or how the golden sparks would illuminate his face and reflect off his goggles, casting a beautiful glow that you simply couldn’t get enough of. Truthfully, you couldn’t have been more grateful for your helmet and culture, knowing full well he would have caught on to your… tendencies, and quick, if you didn’t wear it- bearing all your embarrassing expressions out to the world.

You knew it was bad to be feeling like this. They were in the middle of war, which was no time for romantic relationships. And, truthfully, you didn’t even know if Tech, or anyone else, liked you. For all you knew, they simply had high tolerance for annoyingly secretive men they were assigned to work with. You had always avoided questions about the culture you grew up with, obviously always avoided taking off your helmet, and hardly took off any of your armor- even when it came time to sleep. Which must have been unsettling for them, or anyone, really, you were sure. Someone who was highly skilled in fighting, but never took anything off, always electing to remain in the armor that was most certainly not a comfort to sleep in. And, clearly, the fact that, out of nowhere, the Republic had hired and assigned you to them. They had every reason not to trust you- or to, at the least, not like you.

And you had no clue what to do to lessen that mistrust. Telling them about your culture was out of the question- you couldn’t deal with the…issues revolving when, if at all, anyone would be close enough to take off your helmet. they might think they were close enough, but you didn’t. Or, even worse, you might think you were close enough, but they didn’t. And, Kriff, if they caught on to you hypothetically taking off your helmet more around Tech than the others, they would easily piece together your feelings.

But, hey, maybe you were wrong. Maybe they found you at least somewhat amusing, somewhat useful, somewhat not a nuisance. And maybe, just maybe, Tech would even feel the same way. Doubtful, but since when was love logical? A beep came through, pulling you out of the deep pits of overthinking and alerting Tech. He lifted up his head, temporarily setting down the project. Tracing his fingers over the wheel and control-panel. “We have almost arrived. Would you go and wake up everyone?”

You stood up, stretching your arms as far as they could go, audibly groaning. “Sure thing, boss.” You first walked to Echo, shaking him gently. He was an easy sleeper, after everything. Hunter could sleep well once he was in it, but otherwise, his enhanced senses made it difficult. Crosshair was easy enough, not incredibly difficult, but you wouldn’t wake him up by simply walking around either. Wrecker, on the other hand, slept like a rock. You found out within the first week of your stay that his brothers would simply punch Wrecker in the shoulder, hard, to wake him up. Hunter had explicitly granted you permission to do the same.

That being said, you wound up your arm before slugging Wrecker square in the shoulder, earning a startled grunt from him. Once he registered what was happening, he lopsidedly smiled and mumbled a good morning of sorts. After the four men were awake, you headed back to the cockpit, electing a chair further in the back so they could all sit closer- a common practice. Hunter gave the mission debrief- same old, same old. Just beat up a bunch of droids, and nothing special about this mission. Echo and Hunter had a smaller, but more advanced battalion of droids to defeat within the building, so they needed to go radio-silent. Crosshair and Wrecker would take a larger battalion, as would you and Tech. After everyone was 100% certain in their role, everyone split up.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Kriff, this was not going well. Blaster fire everywhere, explosions left and right, and the only Batch member you could see was Tech, double-blasting his way through any droid he saw. You used a batch of whistling birds, each miniature missile hitting its mark. Not that the few dozen marks did much damage against the entire droid battalion circling you two. You reached for the pouch on your hip, which carried the multitude of bombs and droid poppers necessary for war. Much to your dismay, there was only one bomb left. And for better or worse, it was a giant bomb. It would be incredibly difficult to evade- for both you and the droids. It was designed with the intent of being far above the enemy- not 10 feet away from them. But this was your only chance- if you could pair the main explosion and send out half a dozen droid poppers while the rest of them were distracted- it would be a victory. And perhaps if you could run fast enough, dive, and get as many droids behind you to take the majority of the impact- perhaps you’d make it out relatively unscathed.

And, not that in a million light years would you ever admit it, the most important part- Tech would be safe if you pulled off this stunt. You’d be able to get rid of at least one third of the droids with the large bomb alone, and sending out droid poppers in every direction during that opening would eliminate, at minimum, three quarters of the remaining droids. All in all, Tech would have only a handful of clankers left, he would be safe, and the mission objective would be claimed as a victory. Might as well.

“Run south!” you shouted over the blaster fire, instructing Tech. For a split second he thought to question you, but decided against it. He knows what he’s doing, and there’s no time to object, he concluded. Tech sent a nod your way before running, still blasting his way through what was close. As soon as he was out of range, you pulled the bomb from the waist pouch. Maker, did you hope this will work. You stared at the bomb, hoping you would be shown mercy, as if the bomb was a sentient being capable of choosing who to blast and who to not. With a remorseful sigh, already having spent too long wondering and not doing, you reared your arm back and threw the ball as far as physically capable.

As soon as the sphere of mass destruction left your hand, you bolted- sending out droid poppers in different directions every few seconds, hoping to any god or higher being that they would take the majority of the impact, and not you.

Unfortunately, any and all higher beings seemed to be tastefully against you today. You felt the heat and force before you heard it. A stinging sensation sprung throughout your entire body, sending you crashing forward, groaning. Apparently, you were not far away enough, and there were not enough droids to take the majority of the impact. Kriff. There was an excruciating ringing in your ears, or head-? You weren’t sure, but it was loud and annoying as hell. The last droid popper rolled from your palm, effectively killing off the half-dozen clankers headed over.

Although it was primarily obscured by the horrendous ringing in your ears, you could pick up faint sounds of blaster fire and metallic bodies hitting the ground. You shakily got on your hands and knees, one arm clenched tightly over the stomach region, and lifted your head, groaning. Although it was incredibly difficult to make out in this delirious state, you saw Tech running towards you. He’s safe, was all you could think. The mission was a success and he was safe, what else could someone ask for? With that, there was no longer any reason to stay awake.

You promptly collapsed onto the cold ground, rolling over, hand still clutched. You were coughing up blood, which just fell back down to your helmet and mouth, casing your cheeks and lips. “Y/N!” Tech yelled, attempting to keep you awake and responsive- not his most successful attempts. You felt him lift your body upwards, examining the damage. A shattered off droid piece had pierced through your abdomen, front to back. Blood coated your armor, turning it from (color) to a dark ugly mess of browns and reds. His eyes trailed over you, ever worried. He and his brothers had never faced such an extreme injury, except for Wrecker’s large scar on his head.

“I need to take off your helmet. I can hear you coughing up blood,” Tech informed. You attempted to push him off, delirious of the extremity of the situation. You were not ready to cross that bridge yet. Tech felt bad, he did. Even though he couldn’t possibly understand why a culture would not allow someone to simply remove a helmet, he would respect it, and he would respect you. But in a situation like this, it truly didn’t matter. If your helmet didn’t come off, you'd drown in your own blood before dying of the shrapnel was even a possibility.

“That was not a request, it was me informing you of what I’m going to do.” You wanted to give him a smart-ass response, truly, but you couldn’t speak coherently, let alone think of one. Accepting defeat in this minor battle, your head lolled back into his palm, coughing once again. He placed his hand under your chin, just on the edge of the helmet, and carefully lifted. The helmet hissed as he pulled it off, and your eyes squinted harshly at the bright light, now surrounding you from all sides, not just the visor. This was not how you wanted him to see your face.

Tech grimaced. Clear from the blood and sweat caking your mouth and cheeks, you had already coughed up a large amount of blood, and he highly doubted it’d be stopping anytime soon. “Okay…I’m going to move you to that rock over there- you need to be more vertical than horizontal if I am to treat your injuries.” A mumble was the only response he got. Tech put his hand on your back, roping underneath your arm. Using his other arm to support your lower back, he lifted, and despite all his effort in being gentle, it didn’t do much. Even though the rock in question was only, at most, twenty feet away, it seemed like an impossible task.

With each step, despite Tech supporting the majority of your weight, it felt like another piece of droid shrapnel shooting though you. Everything became more fuzzy by the second, dizziness overcoming you. “We are almost there,” he said, observant of your worsening state. After what felt like an eternity, you had arrived at the large rock. He turned you around and gently placed you on the rock, blood coating his armor.

Reaching to his waist pockets, Tech pulled out a pair of tweezers, a large roll of bandages, and bacta-spray. “I will cut space around your chest plate and clothing. Do not move.” You groaned, looking up at the sun. Perhaps you shouldn’t have done the “throw a bomb and hope you outrun it to save someone else’s skin” plan. Now you’d need a new chest plate and under-armor clothing. Fantastic. Tech pulled out a new set of tools, all to cut the chest plate. Luckily, the hole was jagged and cracked, so finding a good place to further the diameter would not be incredibly difficult.

Tech carefully pulled out bits of the chest plate, making the hole larger by the second. Unfortunately, him cutting that close, despite his best efforts, still applied far more pressure than you would like on your wound. It was not a pleasant experience, to say the least.

“I am finished cutting around the front of your chest plate,” he said, breaking the tense silence.

“Okay…” you breathed out, voice shaky and dry. He looked at you with pity before quickly tearing through the cloth, all too close to the droid bit. He noticed your extreme uncomfort, face scrunched up, trying not to cry. He felt pity towards you, but there was no time for any of that. If he wasn’t quick and adequate, you could very well die. Tech’s point was emphasized by another fit of blood coming up, some blood dripping on his armor as your head came forward.

He grimaced, using his thumb in a feeble attempt to wipe off the new blood. “Can you lean forward while I cut open your back?” he asked, unsure whether or not it would be required to fully turn you around. “Mhm…I think I can manage,” you mumbled, barely above a whisper and hardly intelligible. You rocked forward, arms outstretched to hold up your weight. Tech carefully moved behind you before repeating the process.

Eventually, Tech deemed the cloth and armor to be far away enough from the droid. He would pull out the droid, then fully take off your armor and clothing, apply bacta-spray, and wrap you up. Once you were on the ship, he could dig out any excess sharpanel. Then everything would be fine. He concluded that the best way to get it out was to not let you know. He deduced that you were, more than likely, not thinking rationally- and even if you were injured, you were still heavily trained, and he didn’t want to risk you trying to push him off if there was a warning for what was to come. To be fair, doing it suddenly would surprise you, which wouldn’t be much better, but your reaction time was certainly delayed, so it was still the best option.

“Lean back.” You obliged, hitting the back of the rock and letting your head fall backwards. While you were still looking upwards, he gripped the droid piece with both hands. Pulling hard was most certainly not the best option, but he had already spent too much time clearing the space, and there was no equipment for performing the removal in a safe manner. You would have to deal with it.

Tech pulled on the droid, and he pulled hard. Your eyes went wide, and you lurched forward, hands grasping at the wound. Short, ragged breaths filled the sound of the field, paired with the metallic clattering of the droid being tossed aside. Tech cupped your face in his hands, looking into your eyes. If you weren’t in so much agony, you would’ve been a flustered, blubbering mess. “Hold still and do exactly as I tell you. I need to dig out the smaller shrapnel, but the bleeding must stop soon. There can be no distractions.”

At this point, you could hardly respond, choking on any words you attempted to form. Now that the droid was removed, Tech could slip your chest plate off. “Put your arms up and do not take them down until both your chest plate and clothing have been removed.” Vision blurry and shaky, you lifted your arms despite them feeling like a hundred pounds each. Quickly, Tech pulled up on your chest plate, immediately discarding it among the other debris in the field. Following immediately after, he lifted up your shirt, slightly more conscious of the injury since the cloth was brushing directly against it.

As soon as he finished discarding your shirt, your hands fell limp once again, and you collapsed onto the rock. Tech quickly doused the affected area with bacta-spray, not particularly caring if it got it more space than needed. He needed to be quick, and there would be more time later to fix everything. He positioned himself behind you, legs wrapped around to give you support as he cleaned the back, making sure to wipe off any large chunks of dirt or pieces of rock. After your back and front were successfully doused in bacta, he re-positioned himself and you.

He moved about two feet away from the rock, legs straddling your waist. He had turned you around, eyes meeting each other once more. Your arms were gripping his shoulders, shaking with every breath. Tech carefully reached around and grabbed the bandages, unfurling them. He started at your waistline, moving upwards with each layer of binding. He would carefully glance over your shoulder and angle himself to see your back to ensure it was all going smoothly- or, at least, as smooth as something like this could go. The bandages had finally reached above your wound, before reaching over your shoulder for extra support and coming back down for a double layer. Despite the wrappings having been on for less than ten minutes, the blood was already tainting the once white fabric.

“I am finished,” Tech spoke, finishing off the last layer and grabbing your waist to pull you closer. He carefully grabbed his comm to relay his position and the situation to the rest of the Batch. He knew it would have been useless to comm beforehand, as Hunter and Echo were radio-silent while Wrecker and Crosshair were dealing with a smaller squadron of droids. But now that you were safe- or as safe as possible considering everything- and the rest of the Batch had their objectives completed, he could call them.

“Hunter, I need a pickup at the valley in between the two ridges where the droid squadron was. Immediately- (Y/N) has been injured. I have applied bacta and bandages, but it is not adequate. We must get to proper medical care as quickly as possible.”

“Got it, Tech. We’re on our way, just hang on,” Hunter replied, voice glitchy and faded out through the comm. Tech pulled you closer, your head resting on his shoulder. He placed his hands on your infraspinatus, rubbing small circles in them repeatedly. The telltale humming of the Marauder approached, blocking out the sun and casting a shadow over the field. The ship turned to its side before touching down about ten feet away, ramp opening. Wrecker ran out, panic clearly written on his face. He slowed down as he approached you, face falling more by the second.

“Wrecker, be careful around his abdomen, that is where the implication occurred. Do not run or jostle (Y/N) too much, he can not sustain any more injuries than what he already has.” Wrecker nodded in understanding before gently picking you up, hands under your thighs. He placed your head in the crook of his neck, out of respect for you never taking off the helmet and hiding your face. Your arms were draped over his back, bouncing with each step he took, despite the effort to be more gentle.

With a tired groan, you lifted your head up, eyes peering over Wreckers shoulder to be met with Tech’s. He had stood up and taken off his helmet, the light gray armor tainted and stained with your blood. You felt the incline of the ramp as Wrecker entered the Marauder, and the sounds of scattered feet and clattering could be heard. Shortly after Wrecker had entered the ship, Tech followed suit, your helmet and chest plate in hand. “Tech, what’s the deal with (Y/N)? What do we need to do?”

“(Y/N) threw a bomb which effectively killed off the majority of the droid army, but was hit with debris in his escape. He was regurgitating blood and had a large piece of a droid lodged in his abdomen. I…have cleaned the wound, albeit quickly and not as efficiently as I would have hoped. Clearly, I have bandaged him and removed the primary source of implication, but did not have time to adequately search through for smaller pieces of shrapnel. We should not remove his bandages until we are on Kamino. Someone should be watching him for the duration of the trip until we arrive, and we should attempt to minimize his sleeping until he has proper medical care.”

As Tech explained the situation, Wrecker re-positioned you into a more “bridal style” carrying, before gently setting you down on his bed and slipping his arms out from underneath you, all while avoiding your face. Your head was propped up on Lula, and Wrecker draped a blanket over your body, the edge draping off the bunk. He stood still for a second, glancing around nervously. Tech came up behind him, placing a hand on Wrecker’s shoulder. “Go in the cock-pit and help with the course. I will stay here to ensure everything is alright. There is no need to worry. If I do require aid, I will request it.” Wrecker glanced past his shoulder at his brother, sending a short smile of thanks before hurrying off to the cock-pit. Tech carefully sat down on the edge of Wrecker’s bed, just beside your feet. The bed made a small creaking noise and dipped ever so slightly. Tech sighed, back slouching. He glanced once more at your form, eyebrows furrowed. You two would be having quite the serious conversation later.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hunter walked up to the bunk, staring before finally saying something. “Tech- we’re coming into Kamino. Take the wheel and comm in (Y/N)’s situation. I’ll get him prepped and Wrecker will carry him till the medical team shows up.” Tech nodded in agreement and stood up, walking to the cock-pit. Hunter glanced down at you, avoiding your face. He had a few of his spare bandannas in hand, ready to wrap up the majority of your face out of respect. It wouldn’t be perfect by any means, but any face covering would be better than nothing for you, he reasoned. Trying his best not to look, Hunter lifted up your head and placed four bandannas on it- two on your forehead, and just one each for your nose bridge and chin. As soon as your face was covered, he re-angled himself to tie the knot behind your head.

After your face was covered as well as anyone would do while still minimizing the risk of further complications, he carefully pulled the blanket away and lifted you up, cautious of the injury. He stayed with you until Wrecker and Tech came, the ship having landed. “There should be medical personnel on their way. I requested that a droid be the one to attend to (Y/N)’s injuries, but whether or not they listened is… uncertain,” Tech said, glancing over at you, worry evident by the slight crease in his eyes and furrow of his eyebrows. Hunter was slightly surprised at his brother’s concern for your culture. There was no reason to explicitly request for a droid, but he did so nonetheless. Usually, Tech would not have cared for such things- so long as the objective was completed and no-one was severely harmed, what did it matter if some cultural lines were crossed?

Hunter’s thoughts were interrupted by Wrecker picking you up bridal style once again, head draped back and arms dangling. His loud stomps echoed through the metal corridor, and it was all Tech could focus on. Which had never happened before- just focusing on one thing and one thing alone. But here he was, watching Wrecker exit the Marauder, you in hand- unclear if you would survive, and the only thing he was aware of was the echoing of Wrecker’s footsteps, you disappearing along with them.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tech waited anxiously outside the med-bay door, leg bouncing up and down. The halls were quiet and deserted, only a lone wandering Kaminaon or clone every dozen or so minutes. Tech didn’t know if he preferred the silence or the possibility of crowded and loud halls, people shoving past each other non-stop. He was fairly sure they were both equally terrible options. Hunter had stayed with him a while, but he needed to get back to the rest of the squad- Tech didn’t blame him. He held your helmet in his hands, looking over every detail- every mark, burn, dent, scratch, paint chip, design and patterns and colors- everything. Although, logically, he knew it was very likely that either you or one of his brothers, or himself, would die in this line of work, knowing about it didn’t quite reach the same levels as nearly experiencing it.

The doors slid open, AZ emerging. Tech immediately sat straight up, more alert than ever. Before he could even begin asking questions, AZ began speaking. “(Y/N) (L/N) will fully recover within about 8 rotations. He is no longer bleeding and all sharnale has been removed and the wound has been treated. He is to remain on bed-rest until I give the say so.” Tech didn’t even bother to respond, all he could do was practically jump into the room and land beside your bed. You looked up at him, trying your best to smile- he was not amused. In fact, Tech was at a loss for words. Tech was never at a loss for words.

Actually, scratch all of that. Tech had an abundance of words for you. That much was obvious by the way his face went from “soft and glad you were okay” to his signature “are you kriffing kidding me?” look with an extra splash of anger. Your smile immediately fell.

“What were you thinking- I mean, you decided to throw a bomb which you had no chance of outrunning and for what? That was the most illogical and poorly thought out plan I have ever seen, and I have seen some very stupid things.” It was clear he had more to say, but he figured he’d save it for another time. Tech glared at you for a second longer before pulling up a chair beside the bed.

He let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You…are intelligent enough to have realized the risks. Just explain why you took such… idiotic ones.”

Silence. “I…I figured that if… you could get out of range, that would be enough. I would throw the bomb and get far away enough to survive, taking out any more droids in the escape. Then, you’d be… fine. I mean, the odds weren’t exactly in our favor, Tech- we were losing that battle- hard. We’d probably both be dead if I hadn’t done what I did.” Tech glanced down, thinking over your words. As much as he hated to admit it- you were right. There may have been another way he would’ve come up with to save your hides, but at the moment- your actions did save them.

“I… am sorry I saw your face. Although I do not understand why a culture would prohibit someone from showing their face- I respect you, and so I do apologize. If it is any consolation, I requested droids only for the medical staff, and Hunter had wrapped up your face as much as he could. Nobody really saw your face- just small fragments of it- except for me, obviously.”

You were silent, bandaged and calloused hands wringing around each other. “It’s… it’s alright. In my Clan, you are allowed to take off your helmet with… certain people. Those you consider… close. You can take off the helmet around those types of people.” You glanced up, eyes just barely meeting. He gulped nervously. No-one outside of his brothers had ever considered him close- and if his hypothesis was right- this type of “close” you were describing was most certainly new- not the type of bond one shares with his brothers.

“Are you… implying that you have a romantic interest in me, (Y/N)?” Tech asked cautiously, as though each word represented him taking another step closer to the edge of a thousand-foot drop.

“Is that alright?” you asked tentatively, turning to properly face him, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“Well… it is not standard military protocol to… intermingle.” Your gaze fell downwards, grimacing. So much for a confession.

Then he continued. “But we have never been ones to follow protocol.” Your mouth went slightly agape, and you looked back up at him. Your eyes met each other, and he smiled. He didn’t smile often. Tech reached out hesitantly and grabbed your hand, rubbing circles in it. You placed your free hand on his, like a weird romantic sandwich, and let your head fall back, closing your eyes in satisfaction.

“Y’know- if I knew all it would take to confess and know you reciprocated was to have a near-death experience, I would've done it way before.”

Tech jumped back slightly- “‘All it would take?’” he asked, mocking you. His eyes were wide in disbelief at your disregard for such an event. His face was absolutely golden, and you started laughing- evidently, far too much since within a few seconds you were clutching your side in pain. Tech now wore a mixture of his “I told you so” and “that was not amusing” faces, judging you heavily.

"Regardless, AZ informed me that you would need an 8-day bed rest. And as you do not contain your own proper sleeping area, you may share with me. This way I can closely monitor you at the same time. It will be greatly beneficial.”

You cocked your eyebrow, looking directly at him. “If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just said so.”

“If you are to keep up this behavior in my sleeping quarters, I will not hesitate to kick you out- both figuratively and literally. Perhaps I’ll just make your “visiting time” as terrible as possible. I am not above such actions.” You scoffed at him, rolling your eyes in a playful manner.

“Here- I made certain that I had kept your helmet. The chest plate was practically unsalvageable, but it is currently on the Marauder. Although you are… comfortable without it around me, it seems, I assumed you would want it for the walk back. Am I correct?”

“You're always correct, and you know that. Thank you, Tech.” You carefully slid the detailed helmet on your head, somewhat sad. Although it was clear that you would need to wear it in the halls and in front of his brothers, you still felt sad you two couldn’t enjoy more time, faces and secrets and emotions and everything exposed for the better. You let the brief moment of sadness wash over- it was better to be grateful. I mean, Tech reciprocated! You couldn’t have asked for anything better.

“Let me assist you in getting up- you are most certainly not fit to walk by yourself,” he said. You obliged, his arms coming up underneath your armpits and hauling you off the bed. You quickly found your grounding, and swung an arm around Tech’s shoulders. You two trudged down the long and barren halls of Kamino until reaching your designated barracks, pausing slightly at the door.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt such joy. You looked at Tech, dark visor meeting his yellow-orange tinted goggles. “Kar'taylir darasuum gar.” Tech knew what it meant. He didn’t need his fancy language visor to tell him what you said. You loved him and he loved you. And that’s all that really mattered. He smiled at you once more before the door opened, Wrecker immediately shouting in joy that you were safe and sound. Everything would be alright from here on out, war be damned.

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