#i get really passionate about something and then i write 2500 words on it haha

[starrylothcat]

Unspoken

🔥NSFW🔥Crosshair x Female!Reader One - Shot

Summary: You and Crosshair struggle with feelings as your stress relief agreement becomes more than anticipated. 2500 words.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+. Minors DNI. Kinda angsty. Unprotected consensual sex. Brief mention of wound and blood, not detailed. Reader is a doctor but it doesn’t really matter at all for the plot.

Author’s Note: I wanted to post this last week, but then re-wrote the entire thing. Whoops. Haha. It was supposed to just be shameless smut, but then I accidentally added ~feelings. This is my first time writing smut, trying to get the hang of it. 😘

For all the Crosshair girlies, I hope you enjoy. We love our emotionally unwell sniper. I’m an absolute sucker for soft Crosshair. Please let me know what you think! ❤️❌

You laid back on your bed and let out a large sigh. This is a little pathetic, _____ you thought to yourself, staring at the ceiling. You were waiting. For him. It was late, and the only sound in your small room beside your sigh was the Kamino rain hammering against the window across from your bed.

You had…a thing…with the sniper. It started off as purely transactional to blow off steam. He annoyed the kark out of you, sure. But you couldn’t deny you had feelings for him. And you guessed he liked you too in a way, since he kind of started this. He was the one to kiss you first, after all.

You smirked to yourself at the memory.

After months of back and forth, biting comments and eye rolls, resisting your medical care, it all boiled over. You don’t even remember what you were arguing about, but you do remember his lips suddenly on yours. Messy, fervid. You gladly accepted.

It was an intense night of passion, releasing all the pent up tension you had for one another that had been building ever since he first stalked in to your medical office on Kamino.

After, you both knew once was not enough. You initially agreed no label, no attachment, if this were to continue. What are we, Jedi? You thought bitterly. It just made it easier, or so you thought at the beginning.

At first, your couplings were wordless and intense. Just two people desperate to feel something during the war. It was for him to forget the day’s mission and for you to forget the thoughts of sending men off to their deaths.

He was unrelenting and vigorous, and you didn’t mind.

After, when you laid next to each other, gasping for breath and covered in sweat, he would leave without a word. Once again, you were fine with it.

At first.

Slowly, feelings began to swirl in your chest. You knew you shouldn’t, but it was getting increasingly more difficult.

Especially since Crosshair was starting to make it more difficult. Sometimes, he’d lay next to you longer afterward. Sometimes, his kisses would be softer, catching you off guard from his usual fiery lips on yours, especially if he had been gone on a longer than usual mission. Or, when he would be getting dressed, he’d mention a few things about his next detail with his brothers. He was a man of few words, so when he spoke, you listened.

You caught your own words in your throat a few times, almost asking him to stay. Instead, you’d just bid him a good night. He’d nod with a grunt, his intense gaze lingering for a moment, before disappearing through your doorway. Sure, he challenged you at every turn, but you began to see past his immense walls he had built around himself. You picked away at them when you could, when he let you. You could see a man desperate for connection far beneath his sometimes glacial exterior. You would give that to him, if he let you.

But he was like a wild animal. Any sudden movement could scare him away forever. You’d rather continue what you had than ruin it by trying to make it more than it was. The problem was, you did want more. But did he?

You sighed again, turning on your side. Rain continued to pelt the small window in your quarters. You knew he’d be knocking at your door soon.

The white, sterile halls of Kamino were empty, except for Crosshair who stood in front of your door, his hand raised, prepared to knock. He was here for his debrief with you. He had just returned from a particularly rough mission, and was here to get lost in you. Your ritual that began as just stress relief was turning in to something more, and deep down he knew it. He considered not knocking, and sulking back to bed. Maybe it was time to cut this off. It was getting harder for him to stomp down the new feelings he was experiencing, and it frustrated him. Scared him, even.

He had sought women in the past for sex, but it was always brief. Never any feelings. No interest in any sort of relationship whatsoever. He couldn’t even remember their faces, and never saw them again after. But you. You were different, and he hated how he caught himself thinking of you. Longing for you when he was in his bunk at night, far off on a mission. Or how when he returned, he looked forward to when he could slip away from his brothers and feel your lips on his. Crosshair knew you wanted him to stay some nights, but the thought of getting any closer meant more feelings, more longing. More hurt.

He was waiting, no expecting, for the day you finally had enough of him. The night that he knocks on your door and you don’t answer, proving to himself he was destined to be unwanted. But that hasn’t happened.

He tightened his jaw and clenched the fist that was still raised to knock. He chewed on his toothpick for a moment before bringing his knuckles quickly to your door.

Three fast knocks at your office door brought you back to the moment. It was him. You stood up from your bed, adjusting your hair in your reflection of the small window. Like he even cares. You thought, knowing the second he steps through the door how your hair looks will be the least of his or your concerns. You walked out of your bedroom that connected to your office. You composed yourself for a second and opened the door. Crosshair silently stepped in.

Before the door was fully closed behind him, he had his lips on yours. He quickly pinned you against a nearby wall, his mouth devouring you in a desperate, intense kiss.

He lifted both of your legs, pressing even closer to you as you locked your ankles around his waist, wedging you against the wall. You let out a quiet moan as his codpiece pressed wonderfully between your legs, where heat was pooling, embarrassed by how quickly he could turn you on. He growled as you bucked against him, your hands flying up to grip the back of his head, digging in to his silver locks. He tore away from your lips and gave you a dark, heated look. “This desperate for me, hm?” and began sucking and biting down your neck, which elicited another moan from your mouth. You could feel his iron grip on your thighs tighten even more as he lavished your collarbone. That’s when you noticed a gash on his head, still fresh from the mission he just returned from. “Your head…” you gasped as he was bringing his lips back to yours. “Don’t worry about it.” He growled and pulled away from you, his pupils blown with lust. “Bed, now.” You tried to protest but he carried you across the room to your small bedroom. He unceremoniously dropped you on the bed as he began to strip his armor. “Crosshair wait,” you sat up on your elbows looking at the wound on his head, near his ear. “Let me see that.” He was now in his blacks, staring down at you, his arousal painfully obvious. Don’t. Worry. About. It.” His voice was deep and husky, laced with desire. Crosshair was on you again, tugging your tunic off your torso. His eyes widened a little, realizing you had no bra on. “You really are desperate for me, doc.” A small smirk tugged at his lips as he latched on to one of your nipples, causing you to throw your head back in pleasure.

You wanted respond to him, to say the only reason your bra was off was because it was the end of the day. But maybe it was also for him, knowing he would find you tonight.

But any thoughts left your head as he brought up a free hand to massage and pinch your other breast as he relentlessly nipped and sucked at the other. “I don’t know…” you gasped, your mind spinning. “You seem pretty desperate for me, too.” Crosshair suddenly stopped his attention to your chest and shot a look at you, and if looks could kill, you’d definitely be dead.

Before you could think of another smart remark, your pants and panties were off, and Crosshair’s head was between your legs. He gripped the flesh of your thighs and pulled them open. “Enough talking.” Crosshair’s hot breath spread across the inside of your legs, causing goosebumps to prickle up your body. Crosshair brought his face closer to your already wet heat, and ran his tongue painfully slow across your folds.

You gripped the sheets and arched off the bed. “C-Cross…” you almost shouted as pleasure shot up your spine, any thoughts in your head now fully gone. Another thing he hated himself for: he relished how his name sounded when it left your lips. He wished he could hear it every night.

He gave you a quick look from between your thighs, and then continued to torture you with his slow pace. How could you not fall in love with someone who made you feel like this?

Satisfied with your moans, Crosshair picked up his pace. You could feel your release building in your lower belly. “I…I’m…” you panted, unable to form any coherent thoughts as you reached your peak. Though sometimes he could be unreadable, cold even, he was not selfish in the bedroom whatsoever. He always made sure you came first, so there was somewhat of a gentleman buried deep inside him.

Crosshair’s tongue swirled around your clit, finally bringing you over the edge with just his mouth. At this point, he knew exactly how your body worked. You cried out his name as your body convulsed, your legs turning to jelly, white hot pleasure flooding your senses. His gloved fingers dug wonderfully in to your soft thighs, leaving small marks. He continued to lap you up, even as you came down from your high. “That’s my girl” he rumbled as he removed himself from between your legs, wiping your slick off his chin. That was another thing that was happening. Your nights of passion were becoming more vocal. Mumbling passionate praises to one another, no longer wordless. Am I your girl?

“Crosshair, please, I need you. Now.” You begged. You didn’t care if you actually sounded desperate now. You wanted him to know how much you truly wanted him.

He removed himself from between your thighs, and stripped himself of his blacks, his eyes never leaving yours.

You suddenly felt vulnerable, his gaze piercing straight through you. Your heart thudded as he climbed on top of you, his hard manhood pressing against your opening. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you.

Crosshair hovered over you for a moment, his arms caging you in, and looked like he wanted to say something. Instead, he kissed you again, but this time it was softer. You still didn’t know what this meant, but you happily played along. You brought your hands to his head, gently brushing over his scalp. He gave a small moan, a moan you hadn’t heard before. You continued your soft touch to his head, hoping to pull another moan from him, and you accidentally grazed the wound you were still worried about. He winced and brought his lips away from yours, like he suddenly realized what he was doing, stopping himself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

Crosshair came back to his senses, his eyes dark. He suddenly and roughly took both of your hands and pinned them above your head. He couldn’t be soft. He couldn’t let himself get too attached. He almost slipped. He looked at you, your face flushed, your hair fanned out across your pillow, your naked chest heaving with desire. You were beautiful. But he couldn’t say it out loud. He wanted you to be his, and only his. But he didn’t know how to tell you. Or if he even could.

“Turn over.” He grunted, releasing your wrists and quickly turning you over on your stomach in one motion. Before you could say anything more, he was gripping your unbearably soft hips and pulled your pelvis up, entering you in one thrust. You gripped your bed sheets as he began a brutal pace, the only sound in the room being his body slapping against yours and your gasping moans. He was hitting a deeper and deeper spot with each thrust, your vision almost going white. You knew what he was doing, he couldn’t bear look you in the eyes in this moment. He had almost cracked. And you were okay with it, savoring his louder and louder grunts as he was nearing his peak. You couldn’t look at him in the eye right now, either. You were afraid you’d say something you might regret. Stay. I care. Let me in. Please. Words that Crosshair wanted to hear, but didn’t think he deserved.

Your knuckles were white, you nails digging in to your palms through the sheets you were grasping. Crosshair’s hips began to stutter, he wasn’t able to hold back anymore. His hands released your hips and he brought his torso down on to your back, his arms propping him up on either side of your head, his hands near yours that were gripping the sheets.

In a moment of pure vulnerability, his body reacted instinctually. His senses where overloaded with you and all the feelings that came with you. The good feelings, the frustrated feelings. The feelings he couldn’t process. He moved his hand and grabbed yours that was knuckling the sheets. You were so lost in pleasure you barely noticed, but immediately released the sheets and his fingers laced with yours.

The feeling of his weight in top of you, the sudden action of his hand holding yours brought you over the edge. The sound of your second orgasm filled his ears, your pussy clenching around him causing him to fall over the brink. Crosshair came deep inside you, his body trembling. You heard him utter your name as he pressed his weight on top of you momentarily, coming down from his own intense high, your hands still entwined. This action said more than he ever had.

You both laid there for a moment.

Or minutes.

You couldn’t tell.

You could feel his labored breath on your neck, his head resting next to yours. His hand was still on yours, and you dared not move. Finally, he sat up, his hand sliding off. He laid next to you on his back and you turned on your side, looking at him. You wanted to say something. You wanted him to say something. This was more than just sex now. It was out in the open. You decided to take the leap, and say what you’ve wanted to for a long time. “Crosshair…” you whispered. “Don’t leave.”He slightly turned his head and his eyes met yours. You slowly placed a hand on his chest, tracing a small line down his pectoral. Please. He began to sit up, and your heart sank, panicked this was the end, that you both had taken it too far. He had shown you a side of him that absolutely no one had seen, and you were worried he’d be gone for good, severing this before the feelings really took hold. Finally, he spoke. “Well, are you going to patch up my head? Unless you want me bleeding all over your sheets the entire night.” The entire night?

You smiled softly, trying not to show too much excitement in your expression to his admission. “I don’t mind. The sheets are already dirty.” He huffed, but still not getting out of your bed. “Some doctor you are.”

You could see the faintest trace of a smirk pulling at the side of his lips. You got up to quickly grab a bacta patch from your med kit. When you returned to your room, Crosshair was laying down again, his arms crossed on his chest. You tended to his wound as he laid there, accepting your gentle touch. After, you laid down next to him. You were still waiting for him to suddenly pop up and run out the door, changing his mind. But he stayed.

You woke up the next morning, and Crosshair was already gone. His side of the bed was perfectly made, the pillow neatly placed, the sheets tucked in on the side. It was like no one was ever there. But you remembered sometime in the early morning the ghost of a kiss on your temple, your name being uttered. You remember reaching out, brushing your hand against his as he turned to leave. All the unspoken words were now loud and clear. You were his. He was yours.

Author’s note: Thanks for reading! Tagged as requested, the lovely @wanderer-six ❤️

[aaaa-mpersand]

Why I Love Hollow Knight

aka a super long essay I wrote about why this game is,,,, ridiculously good. Spoilers, though I’ve tried to keep them minor for the most part and as cryptic as possible, if you want to go into this game blind, this is not something you want to read. It’s part prose part essay part me waxing poetic. TW: bugs, minor character death, existential dread some quotes are taken directly from the game. They are usually in bold or italics. - - - Higher beings, these words are for you alone. Beyond this point you enter the land of King and Creator. Step across this threshold and obey our laws. Bear witness to the last and only civilization, the eternal Kingdom Hallownest. It was a long trek to the city, and even the nail that has kept all enemies at bay is starting to feel heavy on your back. You have braved acid lakes, fended off husks gone mad with The Radiance, climbed Crystal Peaks, and fought the Mantis Lords. Now, you are finally here. Past the city gate, into the cavern that houses what was once the heart of a great kingdom. The City of Tears

You stand in one of the city’s large spires, the endless rain pattering like piano notes against the embellished windows. These architectural feats were marvels of their time, a testament to Hallownest’s greatness, an open declaration of defiance against the water pouring down from the lake above the caverns. They were made to stand for eras, a love letter to the eternal kingdom. Now, Hallownest is a rotting corpse, and only the rain cries for it. Zombie soldiers, eyes yellow with Radiance, continue their endless patrols. Husks of citizens sit, glowing eyes unblinking, in their homes, dead enough to rot but alive enough to attack any living thing that comes by. The foundations of the buildings are already starting to wear. One day, they will crumble. One day, the lake above will run dry. One day, the rain will stop, too. You find a bench. There is already someone sitting there, a traveller you met along the road named Quirrel. He is a mysterious but polite fellow, with the simple goal of seeing all the marvellous sights of the world. On his head is a hat that looks more like a mask, black holes for eyes carved into it. On his back is a nail, one that looks much like yours. Travellers do not get far without them. He gestures for you to sit beside him. Even if you could speak, you would be too tired to say your thanks, much less argue. “The capital lies before us, my friend. What a sombre place it seems, and one that holds the answers to many a mystery,” he says, “I, too, have felt the pull of this place, though now I sit before it, I find myself hesitant to descent. Is it fear, I wonder, or something else that holds me back?” The only sound between the two of you is the soft patter of rain. If your silence disturbs him, he does not let it on. “Isn’t this a wonderful place to rest? I so love the sound of the rain upon glass.” You rest your fill, and you move on. At the center of the city, you find a collection of four carved statues. Three smaller ones surrounding a large––far larger than you––horned figure with black, hollow eyes. City of Tears––the rain pouring off of them certainly makes them seem as if they are weeping. Hornet, a spider-like creature with a shell that looks similar to yours, lands in front of you. Unlike your last meeting, her needle is sheathed. ‘Little ghost,’ she calls you. She tells you to seek the Grave in Ash, if you wish to play a part in Hallownest’s perpetuation, knowing the sacrifices that keep its crumbling remains upright. Using a thread of silk as a grapple, she leaps back into the murky shadows of the city.You cannot speak, so you only stare as she leaves. Turning, you read the inscription of the statue. Memorial to the Hollow Knight: In the black vault far above. Through its sacrifice, Hallownest lasts eternal. You look around at the empty streets, the pouring rain, the husk of a Radiance-crazed sentry with a nail driven through it lying on the cobbled pavement. Hallownest is already dead. --- Gameplay and storytelling: Immersion is a large part of every story, but Hollow Knight really takes it a step further. It is a metroidvania game, so immersion and storytelling through settings is pretty much a given in its genre. All things considered, Hollow Knight has a good, but not really amazing, storyline. Rather, it is the way that it tells its story that makes it memorable. Hollow Knight is a videogame first and a story after, utilizing its gameplay to tell its story better than words could. This is why watching let’s plays is enjoyable, definitely a wonderful experience, but there is a difference between dying five times trying to beat a boss or platform through an area versus watching someone die five times trying to beat a boss or platform through an area. There is a moment of surprise you wouldn’t get if you only watched the lore video, to see a character alluded to only by other people in an awed or fearful tone, only to find the hilarious but horrible truth of their fate, and their small stature. However, it is definitely possible for a person to enjoy this game without personally playing it. The setting and music are enrapturing. There are small stories in every new room and every enemy and npc you meet, the love put into every detail is astounding. Evidence of previous battles, the cracked husks of beings that look suspiciously similar to you, a hostile enemy still unaware of your entering, staring out over an endless lake, Hollow Knight makes the player feel like their story is a small part of something bigger, something more than themselves. A good example of this is a minor character named Tiso, a proud warrior who says he wishes to travel into Hallownest and challenge the colosseum there. If you decide to challenge the colosseum yourself, you’ll meet the enemies that he had to face, too––and maybe die more than a couple times trying to do it. If you travel to the Kingdom's Edge, you’ll find his shield and hat with a pile of other remains––all that is left of those who fail the tests of the colosseum. It is possible to go through the whole game and come out knowing not much more story than when you went in. Of course, if you did that, then that’s a whole waste of 15 dollars, and why the hell did you buy this game in the first place. Rather, through the large map and its immersive storytelling, the game makes the player work for the story. A lot of the storytelling is open ended too. Instead of info dumping everything, the game assumes that you are capable of putting the pieces together yourself. It is a strong case of showing and not telling, but it definitely works. This greatly encourages players to go out of their way to find out what happened before. Lore tablets––and text in general––are very sparse in this game. Rather than loading you with information and npcs to talk to, you’ll be overjoyed to find an npc hidden away at the corner of the map. Each one is important, each one has its own story to tell. There are no characters that feel like throwaways or filler. In addition, the player can obtain the Dream Nail, used to reveal any npc or enemy’s true intentions and thoughts. This adds yet another layer to the game; most players immediately go around swinging their Dream Nail at everything they can find after discovering this. In conclusion, Hollow Knight uses a lot of very interesting storytelling elements and tools in the most effective ways possible. Music, characters, text, setting, flashbacks. Nothing ever feels like filler, or something to be disregarded. Instead, there is a joy in discovering and in asking questions. In a way, the playable character is a vessel through which the player can hear the stories of other characters as much as they are going through a journey of their own. --- Story: Hollow Knight’s story is a very interesting take on the “Chosen One” trope, among others. It starts as a story we’ve all heard before, “oceans rise, empires fall.” Maybe it’s for that reason that the game keeps most of the backstory elements secret until the very end of the game, forcing you to dig for it and spend time on it. Meanwhile, you grow attached to the playable character, the characters around them, the world, and the story, so when the curtain finally rises on the hidden secrets of Hallownest, you feel its meaning as if it were your own journey. In the most plain terms, to avoid completely spoiling the game, the story is this. The playable character travels into the remains of a kingdom long fallen: Hallownest. Along the way, you meet characters that tell you more and more about the kingdom and how it got here. The Pale King, a god in and of himself, travelled to this place to build his own eternal kingdom, but in his goal to unite all caverns and areas of the region under his rule, he trampled the already existing gods past recollection. One of these is The Radiance, who in a desperate effort for revenge and self-preservation, sent a sickness upon the kingdom that turns bugs mad. In an effort to combat this, The Pale King created the Pure Vessel, the Hollow Knight, to contain it, and recruited three dreamers to seal it. But when the moment of truth came, and the Radiance was to be sealed away, they found the Pure Vessel was not entirely empty, it was filled with a hope for love and recognition from the Pale King. Hallownest fell to The Radiance. Now, your goal is to find a means to an end for Hallownest, caught in a fate worse than death. Along the way, you will find the truth behind your own creation, the story of the dreamers, and the extent of the sacrifices Pale King made to preserve his eternal kingdom. This story, if not driven by its storytelling, is driven by its characters. You meet, or at least hear of, most of the key characters in the story by the beginning of the game. The Pale King is referred to in one of the lore tablets extremely early in the game. The Temple of the Black Egg, its door sealed, is where you meet Quirrel. The Daughter of Hallownest, Hornet, tries to cut you down, claiming she knows what you mean to do. All of these happen in the first two areas of the game. For the rest of your game, you learn about these characters bit by bit. You interact with them. You find them in corners of the map you wouldn’t expect, and find yourself happy to see them. By the end of the story, you realise that you are much more entangled in this than you realised. The Pure Vessel and the story surrounding him is one of the best ‘chosen ones’ I’ve seen. Even the playable character is technically a ‘chosen one,’ though it takes the role because they are the best candidate, and not because anyone wanted or forced them to. Its fandom has one of the best found families, and the endings are open-ended enough that it doesn’t feel confining. This story has a lot of things to say about imperialism, power, ambition, sacrifice, fate, and relationships, and sometimes all of that can be found in the spires of a city, watching the endless rain patter against the windows as the piano plays in the background. --- My Interpretation: For a large part of my life, I was scared of the dark. I couldn’t bear to go outside to throw the trash out when it got too dark to see. It took me a long time––far longer than most––to learn how to sleep quietly in my own bed. For a long time, I didn’t understand this fear. Nobody around me seemed to understand either, when I asked them for help. Logically, I lived a sheltered life, and my neighborhood was safe. Demons, ghosts, monsters: they didn’t exist. It’s only now I realise that that childhood fear was rooted in this fact: you are a very small person in a very big world. You don’t know what’s going to happen to you. You don’t know what’s out there. You know, instinctively, that you are an ant. The universe is very big, much much bigger than you could ever imagine, and that it doesn’t care for you. Not for your ambitions, your dreams, your fears, your safety. Hollow Knight takes this and deals with it in a way that I love. It’s indicative in the first few moments. Your playable character is smaller than almost every other character in the game. You travel deep into a bug kingdom, much much bigger than you would have dreamed. Everyone around you is a bug too, from the meek to the courageous to the regal. Outside this kingdom is a bigger world, just as harsh as this one, maybe harsher still. All you have is your nail to keep you safe. Travellers before you have fallen. You are the only person left to pick up what’s left of their stories. The world is endless, it stretches in infinity through time and space. People have tried to conquer it before. They have tried to build eternal kingdoms, immortal cities, taking what is not theirs in the hopes that finally, finally, they will be big enough, they will be good enough. They have tried to delay the inevitable––that all things end. Mistakes have been made, evils have been committed. “This place is not a place of honor. No highly-esteemed deeds are commemorated here.” The world is big. Kingdoms are small. You are smaller. Still, you move on. Someone needs to put this coughing, dying part of the world to rest. You will get no lore tablets in your name, no statues to commemorate your deed. Yet you cannot find it in you to be affected. Somewhere, Hornet wakes up and finds herself no longer tied to protect a monstrous ghost of a kingdom, her future now her own. Somewhere, you put your siblings to rest, their lost souls and empty eyes now at peace. Somehow, that is more important, more eternal, than any city or any god. It will follow you even after you are gone. There is strength in being small. There is strength in not knowing where you come from, or where you will go next, but going anyway. There is strength in achieving great things, not because of recognition or greatness or immortality that could brush the stars, but because that is the story you want to live through. That is the footprint you want to make, even if it fades away with time. You enter a large world with a nail on your back, looking for the means to an end, and you leave with less. Perhaps there is wisdom in that.  (and can you believe that this is an indie game, made by like, idk 3 people?? And it’s 15 dollars for a game you can spend 48 hours or more in total on. Absolutely insane sksksksks i love this game)