#you x crosshair

[hunnythebee]

10,24 ,41

With crosshair x s/o reader?

I am so sorry that it took me so long to write this. But I finally did it and I am quite pleased with it. I hope you will be too.

Breathless

Reader x Crosshair

After a treacherous mission you resolve to finally confess your feelings to Crosshair, only to find that he had a similar notion.

1.1k - first person - gender neutral

Prompts 10. Come Here, 21. You’re trembling, 41. I feel like I can’t breathe.

Tags & Warnings; Reader x Crosshair, gn!reader x Crosshair, extremely vague mention of injury, mostly vague talk of danger, some angst, fluff, kissing, love confessions

Difficult doesn’t begin to describe the mission we had been on. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. Yet somehow here we all were. Triumphant and alive. My heart was racing and my head was pounding. Adrenaline still coursed through my veins and I was stuck in my quarters pacing back and forth. An internal war raged in my mind. I could have died back there. Any of us could have died back there. Crosshair… Cross could have died, and I… I would have never had the chance to tell him how I felt. Did I really want to live my life never knowing? Never trying? Would he reject me? Probably. But at least I would have an answer.

I marched to my door with resolve, ready to go find Cross and confess my feelings to him. It hissed open and revealed the slender figure that had been the object of my mental and emotional turmoil. It would appear that I didn’t need to find him. Instead he had found me.

I took in how dissheveled he was. His eyes were more frantic than mine and he was still covered in mud and sweat from the mission. Cross completely disregarded his own state and reached out for me.

“Come here,” his voice was soft. Loving even. He pulled me into his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around me. I sank into him and returned the gesture, wrapping my arms around his waist.

“Cross… wha-” I began to ask before feeling his lips against the top of my head.

Crosshair placed a soft kiss to my hair and muttered, “I needed to see you. I needed to know you were okay. That you were alive.”

The weight of his words sank into me and I began to shake, now realizing that what I was preparing to say to him was more and more likely to be reciprocated and now feeling a whole new sense of nerves course through my body. He attempted to pull back to look me in the eyes but I held on tighter, burying my face into his chest.

“You’re trembling… what’s wrong? Are you injured?” Panic evident in his tone.

I shook my head, “No… no I’m fine, Cross. Honest.” “Then why are you shaking?” He asked, petting my hair.

I remained silent. Too silent for his liking apparently. He pulled me off of him and tried to look in my eyes, but I couldn’t do it. I chewed my lip and turned away as I began to pace again. I had a plan. I had everything figured out as to what I was going to say, but now he was here and my mind was blank and I couldn’t think. I clutched my sides.

“You’re scaring me…” Crosshair said as he watched me unraveling.

I stopped in my tracks and let out a half hearted laugh. “I’m scaring you? I’m scaring you? Well at least now you know how it feels.” My words had a bite to them. An unintentional anger burning with them.

“I– I’m sorry. Maybe I should just go…” He began, insinuating he should leave.

Scared he would actually leave I blurted out, “I feel like I can’t breathe!” 

Crosshair rushed to me and grabbed me by the shoulders and looked deep into my eyes, bending at the waist to do so. “Then you should really get checked out,” he insisted. “We can go find Tech, I’m sure he’s finished with Hunter by now and-”

I shook my head, swallowing hard as I felt all the words bubbling up to the surface. “I feel like I can’t breathe, when you’re in danger. Any time there is a mission my chest tightens and I feel as if I might pass out. I am terrified you’ll come back hurt or worse. I am terrified of losing you. I feel like I can’t breathe when you walk into a room because my heart is hammering so hard that it leaves no room for air. I feel like I can’t breathe when you look at me or touch me or hold me because…” 

“Because?” He asked, but we both knew what the reason was he wanted to hear it. He wanted to make me say it out loud. The words were right there, desperate to come out. I squeezed my eyes shut and finally allowed them to pour out. 

“Because I’m in love with you Cross! I don’t need a medic. I need you. You. It took almost losing you today to finally get me to say it but it’s the truth and it’s been the truth for so long now. I can’t… I can’t lose you Cross. I won’t. I need you. I need you in my life. I need you in my space. I don’t care how. It could simply be just existing. I don’t care. I just need you safe and I need you with me. I love you. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for maker knows how long but it’s the truth. I love you Crosshair.”

Crosshair’s eyes searched mine, looking for any sign that I was being insincere. All he found was love and fear. I opened my mouth to keep talking but was stopped as his lips collided with my own. I remained still, and wide-eyed for a moment as I processed what was happening. Then his hand found the back of my head and my eyes slid shut. I sank into the kiss. Bliss washed through me and wiped my mind of all my fear and replaced it with relief and joy. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that, cyare,” Crosshair admitted. “I love you too. Every moment of everyday I have loved you. When I thought I had lost you today… without ever getting to tell you that… without ever even trying… And then I heard your voice over the comms and I felt such relief. I rushed back here as fast as I could when you said you were back at the ship. I needed to see you. To hold you. To feel your heart beating. I needed to see you alive… I’ve never been one to openly express attachment, but with you… it’s different. I love you. I love you so much.” He leaned down to kiss me once more, softer and shorter than before. I let out a breathless laugh against his lips and looked up at him.

“Something funny mesh’la?” He asked, keeping his mouth close to mine as he spoke.

“Nothing,” I responded. “Just that you finally managed to actually take my breath away.” Our lips locked once again and, for the first time in days, a sense of ease fell over the both of us.

Masterlist | AO3

[juliberrylive]

i love tank force 99

[taddystrange]

Based on the current theories circling tumblr rn

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) How He Is with His Newborn Baby

Hunter: He adores them and spends a lot of time holding them. Hunter is also really big on the whole skin-to-skin contact, so it becomes a common thing to see him walking around shirtless with the baby cradled snugly in one arm. He gets pretty good at performing tasks around the home with the baby. He's enraptured by the little one, but also very attentive to your needs. Hunter makes sure you take the time you need to eat, shower, and just have time to relax every now and then. Literally, any excuse to hold them some more, and he's giving it. He is good at rocking the baby in such a way that they fall asleep instantly in his arms.

Wrecker: The baby has him wrapped around their tiny finger already. He's already telling them how much he loves them and how proud he is. Wrecker also just spends time telling them all the fun things they're going to do together when they're old enough to walk, talk, etc. He is so unbelievably gentle and sweet with the little one in general, and also of course with you. He'll randomly stare at you and tell you how beautiful you are and what a good job you're doing.

Tech: This baby is not at the point where they can retain any information yet, but Tech spends plenty of time just talking to them. He talks about anything his mind can conjure up. The baby becomes so accustomed to the sound of his voice that it has quite the soothing effect. Additionally, Tech is very quick to pick up on the baby's cycle of needs. It gets to the point where they cry, and he can glance at his chrono and pinpoint exactly what they need according to the little schedule he's created. He also regularly checks the baby's weight, vitals, to make sure they're in good health. From time to time he voices yet again how fascinating the miracle of birth is and how proud he is of you, also checking your health.

Echo: Spends the first few weeks only holding the baby when sitting down. He can't get over how fragile they are, and he just sits there and stares at them as long as he can in amazement and adoration before they wake up from their nap or fuss about something they need. When the baby bursts into a fit of wails, he goes into a bit of a panic mode worrying about what's wrong. Eventually, he gets more comfortable and gets used to the idea that the baby is just communicating a need. It doesn't take long for him to become a professional dad. He gets pretty organized with the diaper bag and supplies so that he can just pull out whatever the baby needs at the drop of a hat.

Crosshair: He spends a good while just quietly holding the baby in his arms and watching them. Internally, he thinks they're absolutely precious and realizes he loves them so much. He already knew he'd love them, but he didn't realize it would feel like this. The baby is heart-wrenchingly cute, and he'd do anything to protect them. You come to find that he becomes more vocal, telling the baby in a sort of Crosshair-style sarcasm that they need to get their act together every time he has to handle a diaper change, feeding, etc. He's up with you at any hour day or night to help with the baby without a complaint, and regularly makes sure you're taking care of yourself also.

[stellarbit]

Two Faces

Word Count: 11k Pairing: fem!reader x Bad Batch, light Tech nods Warnings: nada except light violence. Training, some fluff, and general fun Summary: When your sister becomes a senator, you decide to join her guard to protect her. Your mother sends you to train on Kamino as backlash. You are paired with Clone Force 99 under the guise of a regular trooper. Encountering you outside of uniform they mistake you for your sister. It is a delicate situation and you have to play your cards carefully.

This started out as a request for the guys getting jealous of you undercover and here I am. When I tell you this was SO FUN to write but took SO LONG. If y'all like imma make it a part 2.

Edit; you wanted it so here it is Two Faces pt 2

“You want to be a foot soldier.” Your mother snarled down her nose. She was a tall woman, taller than you at least, and the governor of your planet. She waved a slender dismissive hand. “Then be a foot soldier.”

Face neutral, you stood before her in the white armor of a clone trooper. You held the helmet with both hands and a white knuckle grip. This wasn’t exactly what you had in mind when you told your mother you wanted to join your sister’s guard

From your mother’s right your sister stood wringing her hands together. She stood at your height with a face that mirrored your own. Often you were mistaken as twins. Only a few years older than you and already she was the senator for your planet -- the perfect example of what you should have been. Despite everything, the two of you were extremely close.

Concern ate her alive as she watched on. She opened her mouth, but your mother’s hand splayed out in front of her face, cutting off your sister’s voice and view of you.

Continuing to stare you down, your mother’s mouth twisted into her nose. Your family practically bred politicians and that was never your path. If the two of you agreed on nothing else it was that you were no politician.

When your sister was elected as Senator, you knew if you were trained you could be in her guard and keep her safe. It was a decision you were proud of and one that sealed your fate in the eyes of your mother. You would be of no use to her. She heard your wish and wanted to make sure you fully regretted it.

Rolling her eyes away from you, your mother turned her attention to a Kaminoan by her other side. As the leaders of two allied planets, your mother and Lama Su maintained a close relationship. At least close enough to call in favors.

“Thank you, Prime Minister, for this opportunity.” Your mother’s disgust faded into a pleasant smile. “Although, I worry she may damage the reputation of your clone troopers.”

The Kaminoan shifted his gaze to you. In near boredom he said, “You do realize she is liable to die?” Settling his hands in front of him, he turned back to your mother. 

She scoffed, the idea of no concern to her. “She made her choice. Should that come to pass, Kamino will not be held responsible.” They spoke of you as if you weren’t even present. “But, do make sure they don’t take it easy on her.”

They. An ‘unorthodox’ squadron of clones you would be paired with.

Your mother said your name, her tone sharp enough to straighten your back. Her head tilted back, the crimp in her lip returning. “If it is discovered that my daughter is beneath that armor, forget ever coming home.” She muttered something to your sister and, in unison, they made for the door. 

Your sister managed one last glance at you before the Kaminoan door swirled open and your mother shoved her through. Your heart sank as the giant white doors shut behind the women.

What if you never saw your sister again?

Alone with Lama Su, the bright, sterile room began to strain your eyes. The unnatural ambience of the room was enough to unsettle you without the addition of the Kaminoan’s cold stare. With slow fluidity, he fully turned towards you. His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “The modified armor will hide your identity. All you have to do is follow orders.” Lama Su said in his smooth, detached voice. He gestured a long finger towards you. “Put on your helmet, do not remove it in front of others, and remain silent. Your family may tolerate embarrassment, but I will not endure it here.”

Under his cold stare, you lifted the helmet and sealed it over your head. Your eyes had barely adjusted to the restricted line of sight when the doors hissed opened again.

Where your mother and sister had left, five men strode in. Their armor was mismatched in shape and color, but there was some vein shared between them. It took you a moment until your eyes widened and the gears finally turned. These were the clones!

You were no stranger to clones. The Republic had dispatched a group of troopers to your planet as a show of good faith and alliance, although you wondered at times if your family fully reciprocated that sentiment. That said, these men were unlike any clones you’d seen. 

Their appearances were as mismatched as their armor. Your attention immediately drifted to a behemoth of a man towering over his cohorts and obviously blinded in his left eye. Standing shorter than the rest, one man sported a tattoo covering half his face. Two of them stood at the same height, one with goggles and the other with silver hair. The fifth man looked more akin to a standard clone than the rest, yet his complexion was blanched and he was outfitted with cybernetic prosthetics.  

They were the most mesmerizing things you’d ever seen. And none of them spared even a glance in your direction.

Resisting the urge to look to the Kaminoan for clarification, you kept your eyes forward and did your best to look at attention.

“Clone Force 99, welcome.” Lama Su took a smooth step forward and swept a hand in your direction. Still, their eyes remained trained on the Prime Minister. “This promising trooper is being assigned to your squad for training. While their designation number is of no concern to you, you may refer to your new addition as ‘Phi.’”

Phi. A word you recognized as meaning nothing.

A pale hand landed gently on your shoulder, finally dragging Clone Force 99’s collective attention to you. Even through the armor, Lama Su’s touch made your skin crawl. The urge to bite settled between your teeth and the intensity of his stare did nothing to dissuade that.

His next words came across as almost proud. “I trust you will find the skills of this soldier to be exemplary, possibly even to surpass standard clone trooper protocol. It has been decided that integrating with your unit will provide... a most beneficial learning environment for all.”

The praise threw you off until you noticed the change in the squad’s expressions. Something in Lama Su’s words did not sit well with them. In particular, the tall silver-haired clone did nothing to hide his annoyance. Whatever it was, the undue praise clearly sealed your fate in some way. His sharp glance alone indicated that the undue praise had somehow sealed your fate—a fate Lama Su had very intentionally engineered.

“Training will begin immediately.” Lama Su said. “Proceed to the training facilities to begin. You have your orders. You are dismissed.”

Clone Force 99 wasted no time in filing out of the room, offering no introductions or even a glance to see if you followed. Their dismissal was clear; you were an outsider, not worthy of their camaraderie. Hurrying after them, the quiet of the corridor seemed to amplify the shifting of armor and footsteps.

"Just our luck!" His voice boomed, echoing off the walls. "Why do we get stuck with a reg?" He threw a glance over his shoulder, his good eye scanning you with disdain.

Reg? The term echoed in your mind, a label you didn’t yet understand.

The cybernetic clone fell back beside you. “The question is: what did you do to get stuck with us?” His tone wasn't unkind, merely curious, probing.

Instinctively, your mouth opened to respond, but Lama Su’s directive flashed in your mind—Do not speak in front of others. Clamping your mouth shut, you turned your gaze forward again, grateful for the helmet’s limited field of vision that spared you from seeing their reactions. You did see the way Crosshair's eyes narrowed, it was safe to assume your silence hadn’t helped matters.

Adjusting to the weight of your gear seemed trivial compared to the weight of maintaining silence.

Sighing, the tattooed man shook his head. “Listen,” He said as he stopped and turned. “If we are stuck together, we might as well get along. I’m Hunter.”

He gestured to the others as they continued walking. "That’s Wrecker," pointing to the large man, "Echo," indicating the cyborg, "Tech," nodding towards the one with goggles, and lastly, "And Crosshair," with a tilt of his head toward the silver-haired clone who had kept his distance.

They all waited for your addition, but it didn’t come and your silence remained. From behind your helmet you cringed. This was shaping up to be a terrible idea. You held your breath, bracing for the uncomfortable journey ahead. 

Your silence only fueled Crosshair’s anger. His gaze narrowed, head cocked like a raptor eyeing prey. "Too good to speak to us?" His lip curled in a familiar, cruel sneer that reminded you of your mother. 

Noticing Crosshair had an actual crosshair tattooed over his right eye you couldn’t help the little snort you made, emphasized by your helmet’s voice modulator. You immediately regretted your slip up as Crosshair set his shoulders, head snaking forward. “Something funny, reg?” The way he said that word was pure venom.

 You almost conceded at the guttural sound he made at your continued silence, but before you could react Crosshair cracked his elbow into your helmet. The helmet crashed into your face and pain bloomed across your nose, knocking you down to one knee. Blood trickled from your nostrils, leaving you reeling with doubts and likely a broken nose.

"Crosshair!" Hunter barked. He didn't need to step in further; Crosshair stood back, arms crossed and lips twisted into a smirk of satisfaction.

Echo and Tech shared a glance, Wrecker gave a supportive smile, and Hunter shot Crosshair a sharp, disapproving look before turning his attention back to you. "Get up," he said firmly, "and keep up."

With one last glare from Crosshair, you pushed yourself up to your feet, determined not to show weakness. But as the sharp metallic taste of blood filled your mouth, you couldn't ignore the cold reality of your situation.

They certainly did not take it easy on you and by the end of your first session it was clear to all of you that you were a miserable excuse for a recruit. In the solitude of your room, you finally removed your helmet. In a small mirror you twisted your head, examining the crusted blood and swollen nature of your nose.

A gentle, and painful, touch confirmed your broken nose suspicions. You leaned in for a better look and smiled. It hurt like hell, but at least you made it through your first day.

You looked to a photo of your sister you’d pinned to your mirror. It’s worth it for her. Giving yourself a nod, you replaced your helmet and headed for the med bay- a trip you were going to frequent.

As you entered the medical wing, the only presence were that of two medical droids floating about and a female Kaminoan. The female swept her head in your direction, slowly blinking as you stood at the entrance. You recognized the Kaminoan as Nala Se. She’d given your family a tour of the cloning operations in the past.

She addressed you with a good evening and gestured for you to approach. “I am aware of your identity. You may remove your armor in my presence.” Nala Se said in her ever measured tone. When you still hesitated she added, “The clones are currently in the canteen.”

Reluctantly, you lifted the helmet from your head, exposing the bruised face underneath. Nala Se observed you quietly, her expression unreadable. “You should return home.” She suggested. “Our clones are trained from their creation. You will not be able to match their abilities.”

“That’s not an option now. I either return with training or in a body bag.”

You placed your helmet in a tote at the foot of the medical table and began discarding the rest of the armor in the same fashion. Clad only in your black undersuit, you continued undressing under Nala Se's impassive watch. Her clinical detachment did little to ease the discomfort of the situation

Stripped down to a bandeau and shorts, you climbed onto the examination bed. A droid hovered over you, scanning your body. "Subject exhibits a broken nose and extensive bruising," it reported to Nala Se, who nodded slightly before administering two injections—one for pain and another to reduce future bruising.

As the droid tended to your injuries, Nala Se handed you a set of clothes. "There is more than one way to remain hidden," she stated as she unfolded a Kaminoan-style outfit—a set of dark, tight-fitting pants and a long-sleeve shirt, complemented by a light-colored vest with fabric strips cascading down your legs

You’d no sooner dawned the outfit when the doors slid open again and voices immediately broke the silence.

You froze with your back to the door. Tech's analytical voice floated through the air, "I am merely saying, excess violence will only worsen the situation for all of us."

It was Crosshair who answered with dry amusement. "Speak for yourself," he scoffed. 

Nala Se held your gaze a moment longer before she looked to the approaching clones. “CT-9902 and CT-9904, what is it that you require?”

Tech spoke up from behind you, "There is a high probability that Crosshair fractured his knuckles during training." You could think of a few instances that could’ve caused that, the bruises across your body serving as evidence.

Swallowing the groan in your throat, you finally faced them. Tech and Crosshair stopped in their tracks both staring at you with some confusion.

“Senator.” Tech offered a nod of respect. His polite tone threw you off balance as he mistook you for your sister. The Kaminoans' medical treatment had indeed worked wonders, hiding your identity well enough to prompt the error.

Crosshair frowned, a toothpick tilting in his mouth.

Tech, noticing Crosshair’s tight expression, nudged his brother. “We passed her on the way to meet the Prime Minister.” This was enough for the sniper to remove his toothpick and stand a bit straighter.

The immediate respect was a stark contrast to the blows they’d dealt you all day. Embracing the assumption you smiled graciously despite the stiff feeling in your face. “It is a pleasure to formally meet you, troopers.” You rounded the table to stand before them.

Without your gear, you realized just how much taller they were. And without the restrictive view of your helmet, you could fully appreciate how striking they were. They stood with practiced military bearing, radiating strength and a sense of purpose that matched their formidable presence.

Absolutely breathtaking, and in a much different way than when they'd been knocking the wind out of you earlier.

“The honor is ours, Senator.” Tech said. His eyes searched your face, for what you weren’t certain.Though having his eyes on any part of you was a lovely sensation. He paused momentarily, but found your eyes again. 

Crosshair kept his gaze steady as he studied you, lending some clarity to your earlier question. "What brings a senator down to the med bay? Surely not curiosity."

Holding your composure, you lied, “I am… personally interested in the development and progress of the valiant men keeping our galaxy safe.” You took the opportunity to circle the two men while they remained still and eyes forward. The men had equally long legs and cinched waists that were positively sinful. This view of them was certainly an upgrade, igniting an idea in you.

“In fact,” You polished a smile as you came back to their fronts. “I’d be interested in some personal lessons from esteemed men such as yourselves.” 

Surprise lifted Tech’s eyebrows and pulled the corner of Crosshair’s lip up. 

“Mistress Se mentioned your squad is already undertaking the training of a new recruit.” Their expressions dulled at the reminder. “What’s a few extra morning sessions with a mere Senator?”

Nala Se, observing the exchange from the background, stepped forward to say, "That can be arranged for the morning after next. For now, the senator has matters to attend to. CT-9904, please proceed with your treatment."

Tech offered another polite nod before leading Crosshair to the medical equipment. As they moved away, you exhaled, glancing at Nala Se, who gave you an almost imperceptible nod of approval.

The following morning, back in your armor, you walked into the training room and the middle of Clone Force 99’s conversation.

Wrecker was throwing his head around, moaning about something you couldn't quite catch. “-well, why didn’t I see her?”

“You did, Wrecker.” Tech said in a flat, exasperated breath. “If only in passing.”

“But why would a senator want to watch us train?” Echo shook his head in confusion.

Tech adjusted his goggles. “Correction: she wants to train with us.”

As he twirled a knife between his fingers, Hunter asked, “Then why would a senator want to train with clones?”

“Does it matter?” Crosshair drawled from his perch on a rectangular obstacle with a knee pulled up.. “If the little princess wants our hands on her, who are we to deny?”

Little princess. Your mind stuttered at the words while your body visibly jerked at them. The squadron cut their conversation short and looked to you. The amusement between them quickly faded, yet even this attention had heat crawling through you.

“Let’s get this over with.” Hunter gruffed while putting on his helmet. The rest followed suit and training began.

The session was as brutal as the day prior, starting with sparring and finishing with blaster drills. You didn’t do much better than the day prior, but you were proud to have left with no new fractures. By the next morning you could barely leave bed.

But ‘little princess’ was enough to push you up.

You arrived at the training room early. It was much smaller than the usual arenas, scattered with mannequins instead of physical obstacles. You traded your armor for a form-fitting suit similar to the blacks troopers wore. Without a helmet, you felt exposed—but exhilarated.

When the doors slid open, your pulse quickened. With composure your mother would admire, you smoothed your expression and smiled. “Nice of you boys to join me.”

A small smirk lifted Hunter’s lips as he regarded you. “Senator.” he greeted, his gaze sweeping over your form. The word almost caused your smile to falter, reminding you of the misconception they were under. 

They made their introductions before Hunter, hand at his hip, gestured for you to advance. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

The soreness that wracked your body protested when you squared your shoulders. “I was born ready.” Hopefully your feigned confidence won them over.

The way the leader’s head dipped with a small laugh said it did. Even from a distance, the sound reverberated through you to your core.

“Don’t worry,” Wrecker’s large hand clapped down on your shoulder and right onto an unseen bruise. “We’ll take it easy on ya!”

Crosshair rolled a toothpick between his lips. “Easy’s not our style, Wrecker.” You met his still skeptical stare, not backing down from the challenge.

“I can handle it.”

He snorted, flicked away his toothpick, and strode over to you. Leaning in he said in a low, snippy voice, “Better keep up, princess.”

As much as the nickname heated your blood, you maintained your smile, determined to earn their respect. “I intend to.” You said in an equally low, taunting tone.

From the very beginning, their training style was a complete turn around compared to the borderline abuse you endured while in armor.

Hunter set the pace, showing you rapid movements to prove your reflexes. When a moment of exhaustion hit and you noticeably slowed, Hunter teased, “I thought you said you’d keep up.”

Sagging your shoulders, you rolled back your head with a laugh. “Alright, maybe I wasn’t born for this.”

“We sure were.” Wrecker laughed and took over, launching into instruction about utilizing your body weight against an opponent. He demonstrated on Crosshair, who loudly hissed in protest. Wrecker put a shoulder into Crosshair’s abdomen and tossed him over his shoulder like a sandbag. 

Crosshair struggled against his brother’s hold, until he landed safely on the ground. He snarled at Wrecker, then caught the amused smile tugging at your lips. With a grunt of annoyance, he averted his gaze and casually placed a toothpick back between his lips, feigning indifference.

“C’mon, now you try,” Wrecker encouraged as you stepped close. He used his massive hands to reposition your torso into a bent over position. “Like this, see? You gotta feel the power through your whole body!” His bubbly enthusiasm made it hard to take the movement seriously.

His demeanor wasn’t your only distraction. Despite your mother’s disregard for you, as the daughter of a politician, people were always careful with you. Between their ruthless training of you as ‘Phi’ and their gentle instruction as a ‘Senator,’ you were finding them more and more captivating.

Their presence was intoxicating.

Tech used a more methodical style of instruction. His hands deftly maneuvered your body into a slightly different form. “Optimal form is crucial,” he explained. His fingers lingered just a moment too long on your spine, sending an unexpected shiver down your back. With one hand he pressed your bruised shoulder lower.

Your teeth clenched against the pain, a quiet whine making its way past your lips. Tech immediately released his hand, observing you with a tilted glance. “Interesting,” he whispered with curiosity that pulled your eyes to his. Behind those brown eyes of his, something passed through. He blinked once, twice, and stepped back.

The moment went unnoticed as Echo chimed in. “Throw your weight behind it and aim for his diaphragm.” Wrecker tried to chuckle, but you cut him off by doing just that. Despite your best efforts, he didn’t even flinch. A chorus of chuckles erupted around you, but it felt good to join their lighthearted banter instead of getting the kriff kicked out of you.

The training continued until you were slick with sweat. You were exhausted, sure, but the exhilaration you felt in the beginning only grew with every brush with the men.

Though throughout the trading, Crosshair paid the experience little interest.  He meandered the outskirts of the room, only chiming in when you had a misstep. Finally, winded but grinning, you let yourself sink to the floor. Crosshair sauntered over, standing behind you as he shifted his weight onto one foot.

His weight shifted onto one foot and postured over you. “Looks like what they say about senators is true.” He snorted, but the bite his voice carried when you were Phi was missing.

You leaned back, hands propped behind you, and squinted up at him. “And what’s that?”

His keen eyes scanned you, briefly pausing on your heaving chest before meeting your gaze again. “You’re all talk.”

Crosshair maintained a smug expression while his brothers fell silent, their attention fixed on the two of you. For the first time since training began, the ache in your nose surfaced in your mind. The memory of Crosshair's initial blow hung in the air as you carefully considered the situation, your tongue slipping over your teeth. He didn't realize it, but as you sat there inches from his feet, he was perched right within your reach. His guard was down, dismissing you as a non-threat.

The backhanded comment about Senator inaction was the deciding factor in your next move. You could always tolerate insults aimed at you. The rough training was even tolerable if it meant a means to your purpose. 

Calling out a senator’s - your sister’s - resolve, however, was a step too far.

In one swift motion, you fell back, hooked an arm around his ankle, and yanked his foot out from under him. Crosshair's arms swung through the air, desperately trying to catch his balance, but he tumbled to the ground with a thud, a gasp of air forced from his lungs. Lounging back on one elbow, you kept his ankle cradled firmly in your arm.

The rest of Clone Force 99 tried - and failed - to stifle their laughter. Eventually, they gave him the same round of laughter you received. Crosshair shoved up on his elbows with a scowl. The twitch in his lip betrayed the amusement nipping at him. Grunting with a roll of his eyes, he pushed you off his foot. “Lucky shot.”

You raised your eyebrows with a satisfied hum, then let yourself fall back onto the training mat. As you lay there, staring up at the bright ceiling and still catching your breath with a laugh lingering on your tongue, you felt an unfamiliar sensation—happiness.

All your life, you’d been chasing after your sister, constantly seeking your family's approval. You had never been allowed to simply exist or pursue anything for yourself.

But laying there, beaten and exhausted, you felt strangely good.

Wrecker’s face appeared above you with a lopsided smile. He extended a hand as he said, “Now, where’d you learn to do that?”

Groaning, you accepted his hand and he lifted you with ease. “It comes with having a sister,” you replied. The mention of your sister brought a bubble of anxiety to the surface and Lama Su’s warning pricked you.

“Ha! Just like us then.” With his hand still clasping yours, Wrecker steadied you by gently pressing his other hand against the small of your back.

Your face heated, though it was already flushed from training, and you quickly cleared your throat, stepping out of his grasp. Brushing off imaginary dust from your thighs, did your best to sound casua. “I’m curious,” you said, eager to switch topics, “how’s training that trooper Nala Se told me about?”

Just like mentioning your sister had done to you, bringing up the trainee cast a shadow over the troopers’ mood, which only heightened your anxiety.

“Don’t remind us.” Wrecker gruffed. “It’s bad enough we’re missing out on missions and we’re stuck with a reg.”

“Reg?” You repeated.

Echo sighed with exasperation. “Regular clone.” The way you muddled your face prompted the others to elaborate on their own differences. Though you knew Clone Force 99 was different, you hadn’t realized the full extent until now. You understood now why Echo was the least brutal in his training. With his origins as a regular clone, he sympathized.

Lama Su’s conversation with them finally made sense. He was stoking a fire meant to burn you out. 

You laughed nervously, “Surely it can’t be that bad.”

Hunter rubbed the bridge of his nose, dreading the afternoon ahead. “Trust us, you’re showing more potential than this guy.” 

They all launched into a conversation about the trainee's abysmal performance, not realizing the irony. Meanwhile, Tech stood back, focused on his datapad, occasionally looking up at the group- at you.

Walking away from the group, you tried to peek at his screen. “What are you looking at?”

Tech glanced up at you and quickly tucked the device away. “I was reading up on some political matters.” He adjusted his goggles and glanced at his brothers still chatting away. “Nothing you are not already appraised of.”

Mouthing an ‘oh’ you followed his gaze t back to the others. They looked so different now, discussing the reg amongst them, than they did just moments ago. “Why exactly are you here?” Tech questioned, you could feel his attention on you.

Not bothering to meet Tech’s stare, you answered without hesitation. “To make a difference the only way I can.”

From that point on, a cycle began. Every morning they trained you as the Senator and every afternoon you received a beating as Phi. 

Knowing their distaste for Phi was completely unrelated to you may have eased your anxiety but it didn’t make your training any easier.

That came with your mornings with Clone Force 99 and, on occasion, an even meeting.

The first time you ran into them outside of training happened when you’d snuck off to comm your sister. After stealing a holocom from the medical facility, you wandered the corridors for a few nights to find the best place to reach her. You always worried about an unexpected visitor in your barrack room. Wrapped in a cloak, you huddled beside a viewport, lost in thought as you stared at the device in your hands.

It had been the longest stretch you’d gone without speaking to your sister. Nerves kept your fingers hovering over the controls, practicing how you'd greet her, when suddenly your vision went dark. Your hands dropped the holocom in surprise, but it never hit the ground. 

“Look who we found!” Wrecker’s boisterous voice boomed, warm and close, as his large form pressed up behind you.

Letting out a startled breath, you gently pulled his hands away from your eyes. Standing before you were Hunter and Crosshair, both of whom looked amused.

Hunter practically sauntered forward as he offered you the holocom back. "Caught you," he teased, handing the holocom back to you with a sly grin. His eyes dipped as your fingers brushed against his, he shot a question with smirk at you. “What are you doing out here so late?”

You clutched the device a bit more securely and shrugged. "Just needed a quiet spot to contact my sister," you admitted.

Crosshair raised an eyebrow, plucking the toothpick from his mouth and pointing it at you. "And you chose the coldest corridor on Kamino for your heartfelt chat?" he was unconvinced.

You spun the device nervously in your hands. “I didn’t think anyone would be out at this time.”

The silver haired clone gave a low chuckle, twirling the toothpick between his fingers. "Well, don't let us interrupt your cozy little conversation.”

“We’re headed to the canteen for a bite to eat, you should come.” Wrecker suggested, resting his hands on your shoulder.

Hunter nodded in agreement. "You’re right about one thing - it’s quieter this time of night. Less regs to get in the way."

Wrecker grinned wide and leaned in closer, giving you a gentle shake as his presence nudged you forward. "Besides, it's warmer there!"

You certainly felt warmer, but not just from the prospect of a heated room. Glancing down at the holocom, you wondered if your sister was even awake. Unable to resist their invite, you stashed the device away and smiled. “Alright, why not? Lead the way.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Crosshair said in a way that made you roll your eyes. He could make anything sound sarcastic.

Joining them turned out to be a worthy trade. Crosshair and Hunter sat across from you and Wrecker. Wrecker made a habit of pushing into your space, offering bites of his favorite bits, while Crosshair and Hunter discussed your upcoming training sessions as Phi—a topic you found less than thrilling. Instead, you chose to bask in Wrecker’s warm attention.

Despite his high energy and monstrous strength, Wrecker proved to be the most gentle of the batch. Always the first to help you to your feet or catch you when you stumbled. His touch light, the calluses of his hands only ever brushing you. The skinship was a new experience for you, but one you wanted more of each time.

After your last bite of a chocolate morsel, Wrecker caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He rubbed a thumb over the corner of your mouth, dragging your lip down with the pressure of his touch.

“Got a little somethin’ there,” Wrecker chuckled, showing you the smear of chocolate on his thumb. “Guess I’m not the only messy eater ‘round here.” His smile crinkled his eyes as he dipped his thumb into his mouth to suck off the sweet remnant.

The casual intimacy of the gesture wasn’t lost on you, though it seemed to escape him. He turned back to his plate, completely missing the heat rising to your face. As a soft smile lilted your lips, you shut your eyes and leaned into Wrecker’s form. Surrounded by them, you felt a wave of contentment—you could happily spend all your free time like this

Wrecker perked up, his eyes wide and eyebrows raised as he felt your weight against him. He sat stock still for a moment, glancing between you and his brothers. Gradually, he relaxed into your touch and reached an arm around you.

“H-Hey,” he stammered slightly, patting a hand on your hip, “What’s all this?”

A foot knocked into yours from beneath the table. Peeking out from under an eyelid, you met Hunter’s lopsided smile and received another gentle tap. “Don’t be falling asleep on us. It wouldn’t be a good look for us to be carrying your limp body back.”

“Is the little princess tired?” Crosshair added lightly, a rare hint of playfulness in his tone.

Closing your eye once more, you hummed in agreement. Sitting alone with them in a mess hall, sharing a meal and laughing under the harsh lighting, you felt completely at peace.

Your mother had meant this all to be a punishment. She couldn’t have imagined that this place, these men, would heal a part of you you hadn’t realized was broken. They built you up and their training made you feel strong. They never admitted to it while you were in armor, but from their observations of the Senator you were improving.

Something you showcased one afternoon as Phi. During a drill with dummy droids, you found yourself blindsided by a metallic blow to your back. Another droid seized you by the neck and hurled you about twenty feet, leaving you crumpled on the ground as the simulation abruptly ended.

Still seeing stars, you heard the familiar cadence of Crosshair’s footsteps. “Get up.” Crosshair growled from above you.

Twisting onto your side, you struggled to catch your breath. Crosshair’s helmet angled to the side as he clicked his tongue, shoving his heal into your hip. “I said get up.” He punctuated his words with another kick. The sharp pain instantly boiled up weeks of frustration and pain.

Not a single thought registered with you as you snapped. As fast as a hydrosnake, you lashed out, looped an arm around his ankle and thrashed him back as you had before. This time your training took over.

You didn’t stop at holding him by his foot. No, you pulled his leg to the side, opening his hips, and pinned his thigh under your knee. Before he could grab at you, you pressed your torso across his, driving an elbow into the side of his helmet. Your hands clasped behind his bicep, effectively locking him in place.

Crosshair thrashed against you as his free hand hammered into the soft spot between your chest and shoulder plates. With every hit, you tightened your grip on him. His vile threats drowned out the sound of Wrecker’s stomping towards the two of you. 

A large hand ripped you by the back of your neck, instantly detangling you from the sniper. “Not so tough now, are ya?” Wrecker taunted.

Dangling in the air, your legs kicked and fingers scratched at Wrecker’s fingers. The fingers that otherwise delicately touched you choked you in more ways than one. Crosshair shot up from the ground, ripping off his helmet to expose his seething expression. 

“Wrecker!” Echo’s voice rang out from the sidelines, but his veiled command did little to deescalate the situation.

The sarcastic, teasing Crosshair who interacted with you as a senator was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he whipped a finger at you, a silent but unmistakable threat as he closed in on you.

It was Tech that quickly slid between you, effectively barring Crosshair from getting his hands on you. “Crosshair.” Tech’s tone was firm, if not altogether scolding. “You kicked them while they were incapacitated. Therefore, their actions were justified, while your reaction is not.”

Crosshair shook with rage, eyes burning into you past Tech's shoulder. The silent threat of his pointed finger became a promise.

“Wrecker, drop him.” Hunter ordered he yanked Wrecker’s arm down. 

Wrecker begrudgingly released you, setting you down with a rough thud, but you quickly steadied yourself, brushing off the dust. Your breath was labored, but you didn’t falter under Crosshair’s glare. It didn’t matter who Crosshair thought you were at this point, he was just being cruel. It fully pissed you off more than anything up to that point. Tension hung in the air, and with each passing second, your urge to snap grew stronger.

Tech stepped aside and Hunter’s stern gaze moved between you and Crosshair. “Are we done?”

Crosshair let out a low growl before reluctantly shoving his helmet back on with a quick twist. You, on the other hand, weren’t done and needed to calm down fast.

“You’ll never be worth our time,” Crosshair said with venom. “You fight like a child.”

That simmering urge burst through. You lunged forward, craned your head back, and bashed the front of your helmet into his. The old wound on your nose flared, but watching Crosshair thrown back and stumbling dulled the pain to an ache.

He shook it off quickly enough and charged you again, narrowly missing as Echo intercepted him.

While you regained your balance, Tech fell in beside you, gently catching you by the forearm. You were too busy wheezing to notice the strangeness in Tech’s assisting you as Phi. While you watched Hunter and Echo work to calm Crosshair, Tech brought his head closer, whispering for only you to hear, “Do not antagonize him. You’ve already had one broken nose, let’s not aim for another.”

All of your burning rage cooled in an instant. You slowly looked at the technician, whose eyes watched you intensely from behind his helmet. Something in his gaze drowned out all other sounds around you. He looked at you differently from how the others ever had.

You had no idea how he knew, but the way he looked at you made it clear: Tech knew exactly who you were.

He leaned closer, his voice a low, amused murmur. "It was obvious." Your head jerked back as if to say ‘how was it obvious?’

Sensing your immediate tension, he added quickly, "To me, at least. The others don’t seem to have noticed." He glanced over his shoulder to ensure Crosshair remained restrained before looking back at you. "We'll manage Crosshair. You should head to the medical facility to have your nose examined."

“Tech-” You tried to whisper but Tech cut you off, spinning you towards the exit. You didn’t wait for him to tell you again.

You did manage to hear Tech quip, “For the record, Crosshair, that would be twice now they bested you.” You made sure you were out the door by the time Crosshair turned on his brother.

Tech was right to send you to get checked out. You’d avoided a broken nose, but the swelling did need attention. You were still in armor when you got back to your room. Dropping down onto a storage tote, you set your helmet between your feet. Elbows on your knees, you sat looking out over the swath of ocean beyond your windows. 

The steady drum of rain against your window helped soothe your nerves, which had barely eased since you left the training grounds. You sat there for a while, combing through your time on Kamino, searching for any clue as to how Tech figured out who you were. With his keen mind, anything seemed possible, but you still wondered when you slipped up.

The sound of your barrack door opening snapped you out of concentration. You couldn’t reach for your helmet fast enough when someone said,“You need not bother with that”

You whipped around, twisting in your spot. Sans helmet and alone, Tech stood in your room. He’d already seen your face and touched your body, but this felt like you were meeting for the first time.

You slowly stood, picking at your fingertips. “Hi,” was all you managed to croak out as the door shut behind him.

It must've been an odd sight, you thought. The face of a senator on the body of a trooper. You snuck a glance at your reflection in the window. The sight was familiar to you now, but you remembered the juxtaposition taking time to get used to. You weren’t happy that the first time Tech was seeing you as you, your hair was stuck in a bird’s nest of a bun with crooked hairs jutting out at all angles

Tech said your name and something in your chest lurched at the sound. “If I am correct,” He said as moved his goggles up his nose. “-And I usually am, that is your real name. Is it not?” He remained standing just at the entrance of your room.

Your lips tucked into your mouth as you nodded slowly, still unsure about what to even say. “How did you know?”

Upon your admission Tech walked closer, free of the tension you carried. “Observation and deduction.” He explained, stepping around the tote separating you to take you in fully. Unlike when you portrayed Phi or the Senator, you had never noticed him observing you with such explicit curiosity.

Tech circled you, one hand cradling his elbow and the other holding his chin. “I was fairly certain Crosshair broke the trooper’s nose during the initial altercation. When we met in the medical facility, I noticed a distinct mark on your nose—an odd thing for a distinguished guest such as a Senator.” He moved around your right side, his finger gently pressing into your shoulder. “To confirm my suspicions, I applied pressure to a region I hypothesized would be tender if my assumptions were correct.”

"Your reaction confirmed it," Tech concluded, stepping back to give you space. "It was subtle, but it was enough for me to piece together the truth about your dual identities."

He took a seat on the tote facing the window and pulled out his datapad, tapping away as he continued. “Still, I didn’t have an explanation as to why a senator would be here like this. Until you mentioned your sister, which finally prompted me to do a bit of research.” Tech angled his datapad towards you, displaying a news article with a photo of your sister. “I must admit, the resemblance is uncanny. However, with her being accounted for on Coruscant, it would prove impossible for her to be on Kamino.”

He pressed a button and a photo of a stoic family appeared - your parents standing behind you and your sister. You only got a glance in before Tech pulled it back to his face. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the photo. “Besides, while the two of you do share similar features, you are far more… captivating.” Tech looked up at you, still standing beside him. “I could never confuse the two of you.”

Your breath hitched at ‘captivating.’ No one had ever remotely said that to you. It was always either you could pass for twins or your sister was the more fortunate child. Coming from Tech, such a logical and blunt man, it took your breath away. He saw no point in undue praise or flattery; to him, he was merely stating facts. It melted you.

You lowered yourself next to him, knees turned in his direction. “Why haven’t you told the others?”

Tech thought for a moment, his eyes shifting to the side as he considered your question “I do not know your reason for anonymity, but I respect your decision and will not jeopardize that. Your privacy is your own.” He nodded, pivoting to fully face you. “And I find I rather enjoy being the only one to know this about you.”

The tension in your shoulders ebbed, replaced by a fluttering that started in your chest and made breathing a manual task. You caught your reflection again, feeling frustrated that in such a moment you looked so disheveled. You balled your fists tightly enough that your fingernails dug into your palms, embarrassed that he offered such compliments to someone like you.

“Why are you making such a face?” Tech asked.

You watched yourself a second longer before offering him a sad smile. “I think I know now why you wear those goggles.”

Tech’s brows pulled together. “They alter the way light enters my eye to correct my eye’s refractive errors.” You sat back, blinking at the explanation, humor coming to your smile. Tech kept a serious face, not understanding the nuances you were attempting. “They help me see,” He clarified in a flat tone.

You yielded a small laugh, leaning over to tap his knee. “I know, I was trying to say you must need them if you think I’m the pretty sister.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you realized how mean they sounded. Not just insulting Tech’s taste, but fully airing the distaste you held for yourself. Your smile dropped and along with your eyes to the hand still on his knee.

A drop of panic hit your gut as you started pulling your hand away. “I’m sorry, I-”

Tech grabbed your wrist and you couldn’t react before he hushed you, “Get down.” He said, pulling you both down to the floor. He ducked his head, pushing yours down and pulling you flush against him in one motion. His hand cupped over your mouth just before you heard the door open. Two sets of footsteps echoed in. Whoever it was, they were too far away for you to get a clear image of them in the window’s reflection.

You craned your neck, trying to get a look but Tech held you fast.

“His armor isn’t here.” Crosshair’s sharp voice rung out. “The little snake isn’t home.”

Hunter answered with a sigh, “Cross, none of us like this but you need to ease up. The sooner we get him trained, the sooner we get rid of him.” The two of them made themselves at home, walking around on a light inspection of your space.

Tech kept you both completely still, staying so silent you weren’t sure he was even breathing. Which was impressive considering that between the intruders and being positioned between Tech’s legs you were having a hard time regulating your own sounds.

One set of footsteps quieted. “Would you look at that?” Crosshair snarled. “Looks like the reg has a little crush.” The sound of paper snapping told you he found the picture of your sister hanging from your mirror. The level of agitation in his voice made you worry for the next time Crosshair caught you in uniform.

“That might be why I-” Hunter stopped mid-sentence. You heard footsteps shuffle in place.

“What is it?” Crosshair pressed.

A moment passed before Hunter continued. “It’s nothing. We should go. You can play nice later.” Crosshair made a noise of frustration, and the two of them left the room.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Tech eased his grip on you. His arms hung beside you while you instinctively sagged against him in relief. You twisted around to ask, “What were they doing in here?”

“My guess would be that Hunter wanted Crosshair to make amends.” You could see a thought turning over in him. “And I would say Hunter either just realized the situation or is on the very cusp of doing so.”

“How did they-”

“We have always known which barrack was yours.” Tech answered before you could get the question out. He glanced away momentarily, considering his words carefully. “I advised them early on to leave well enough alone.”

The two of you held each other's gaze for a moment, and Tech's expression softened, becoming more reflective. “I did say I enjoyed being the only one to know your identity,” he murmured. “What I neglected to mention is that I took measures to keep it that way.” Gently, he lifted a knuckle to your cheekbone, brushing back a stray hair. The corner of his mouth ticked upwards.

“It doesn’t bother you - not really knowing me?” You asked.

As Tech began to help untangle the two of you from your hiding spot, he responded. “We may not have had traditional introductions, but I know all that I need to.” You pulled your legs beneath you, reaching out for Tech as he stood. He gripped your hand firmly and pulled you up.

With a slight grunt as he helped you to your feet, Tech continued, “You are resourceful and brave. These qualities are not just observed; they are proven through your actions and decisions here.” Tech’s voice carried a respect and a hint of admiration that felt more personal than his usual factual observations.

“And while I may not know every detail of your past or every layer of your personality yet, I understand your core—your competence, your strength, and your commitment to your goals. These are the attributes that define you, not just the name you carry or the role you play.”

Tech bent over and plucked your helmet from the floor. “Plus, as a clone, a name doesn’t hold a great deal of value for me.” He held the helmet in his hands, He rotated the helmet, examining it before gently handing it back to you. “Does that answer your question?”

Nodding in slight awe, you gently accepted the helmet and immediately dropped it, opting instead to quickly wrap your arms around his waist. “Thank you, Tech.” 

Tech stiffened slightly, the rush of adrenaline visible as his posture tightened—a clear sign of his surprise at the physical closeness. This type of interaction was uncharted territory for him. In the window’s reflection, he watched the two of you. Your face was tucked into his chest, hidden from view, but he could feel the tremor of your breathing. Unsure of what else to do, Tech lightly touched your head. “O-of course.”

Tech had a myriad of questions for you about your past and your motivations.Holding you in that moment, he decided, was enough. The questions could wait for another day.

The next morning's training session was particularly challenging for you. It was hard to ignore Hunter's scrutinizing gaze. He watched you as if decoding every movement, his eyes sharp and probing. Tech's earlier observations were spot on—Hunter was definitely onto something.

For once, you found yourself eagerly awaiting the end of the session. As soon as it was over, you hustled away faster than usual, leaving Clone Force 99 to prepare yourself for that evening. You were going to tell them the whole truth.

After mentally rehearsing several scenarios multiple times, you donned your armor and headed for the training facilities. However, as you stepped out of your room, you nearly collided with Nala Se. 

She didn’t flinch, embodying the typical Kaminoan stillness. Towering above you, she blinked slowly, her gaze piercing. “Before you go, I must see to your injuries,” Nala Se stated matter-of-factly. Without waiting for your response—accustomed to your practiced silence—she turned and headed towards the medical wing.

You followed quietly, your mind racing as you pondered which injuries she referred to. Certainly, your nose and the rest of your face still ached from the previous day's exertions, and your torso was a tapestry of bruises, but these were all injuries that had been treated before. Moreover, Nala Se had scarcely crossed your path in recent weeks. Initially, she had helped you avoid detection, but she had not intervened since.

Her sudden appearance was less than comforting.

In the quiet of the medical facility, oddly void of the typical droids, Nala Se motioned to a bed. “Have a seat and remove your helmet.”

You were so preoccupied with thoughts of how your tardiness for training might disrupt your planned conversations that you barely registered her instructions. Nala Se said your name, snapping you back to the present.

Removing your helmet, you looked across the bed at her and realized her gaze was focused past you. It hadn’t been her calling your name.

Outside, Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, Echo, and Crosshair were on their way to the training facilities, helmets under their arms, when they noticed the Senator entering one of the medical rooms. Today, you weren’t cloaked in your typical attire but wore a robe of deep purple with gold threading, which seemed oddly formal.

Crosshair snorted, “Looks like we need to ease up on our little princess.”

Tech, who had been absorbed in his datapad, looked up. “To what are you referring?”

“I told you she was actin’ weird.” Wrecker said, more concerned than accusatory, ignoring Tech’s question. “Should we do somethin’?”

Echo, looking to clarify for Tech, gestured with his prosthetic arm. “We just saw the Senator enter the medical facility. And yes, we should check on her before heading to training.”

Tech paused, processing the information. He knew you well enough to be aware of your usual post-training soreness and kept an eye on the medical records associated with your after-training exams. You hadn’t sustained injuries severe enough recently to necessitate a deviation from your normal routine. He buzzed with suspicions and worried over the implications of your unexpected visit to the medical facility at such an unusual time.

“Let’s get this over with.” Hunter said, moving forward with all but Tech who stood in place a second longer. If his suspicions were correct, this was not going to go well.

Back inside, you were faced with your reflection. Blinking back confusion, your mind struggled to process what you were seeing. Stepping towards you, adorned in the traditional regalia of your homeworld, was your sister, looking every bit the senator she was meant to be, her hair elegantly braided back with strands of gold and pearls woven through. The purples and golds of her dress made her appear radiant and regal—so much like your mother, and so unlike you in your scuffed armor and haphazardly tied hair.

Nala Se wordlessly removed herself from the room, making the entire setup evident.

“Sister?” Your voice barely whispered as you took a hesitant step forward, half-fearing that any sudden movement might cause her to vanish like a mirage.

Her eyes widened, her pace slowing, as she scanned your face. Her face, so alike and unlike yours, crumpled with emotion, her lip trembling. Then, with a burst of energy, she ran towards you, hands reaching out from the folds of her cloak. You caught her in a tight embrace as she collided into you, her presence grounding the surreal moment.

She didn’t speak at first, only managing to choke back muffled sobs against your shoulder. You rested your head against hers, holding her close, and savored the familiar scent of her perfume—a reminder of days long past. “I’ve missed you,” you murmured, your voice not choked with sadness but steady and comforting. You had always been the pillar for her to lean on; this time was no different.

Your sister pulled back, rubbing tears away with the heel of her hand. She managed a shaky smile, laughing through another small sob. "I’ve been so worried. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner."

You shook your head with a smile, gently gripping her shoulders. "You have more important things to do. Like, I don’t know, running the galaxy," you joked. Pulling her into another hug, you held her close for a moment before stepping back to reassess her. "Though… what are you doing here?"

Your sister took your hand, her grip soft against your calloused skin, and squeezed it tightly. "I’ve come to take you home. Mother—"

"Mother?" you interrupted, your tone sharpening as you pulled your hand away.

“We need you-”

“We?” You repeated louder. The joy of your sister’s visit dimmed the instant you remembered why you were standing together in a Kaminoan facility in the first place. “If this is for her, you shouldn’t be here.”

Your sister pressed a hand to her chest, perturbed by your tone. You’d never spoken to her like that. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

Swallowing the instinct to give in to her, you reached for your helmet. “I don’t need to. You know why I’m here and I intend to see it through. You should leave-”

The sounds of the doors whirring open cut you off as you snapped your helmet on in a hurry.

Suddenly confused, your sister opened her mouth to say something, but instead you heard a familiar voice and the strength you’d maintained was replaced by panic.

The sudden arrival of Crosshair and the rest of Clone Force 99 sliced through the tense atmosphere like a vibroblade. “How touching,” Crosshair drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he rounded the privacy divider at the room's entrance. “What is our little princess doing alone with a reg? I didn’t realize you had a pet.” His cold gaze landed on you, igniting a tremor in your hands.

Your sister’s expression twisted in a stomach churning and familiar way. She scoffed and turned, “Little princess?” She spat the words out, her disdain palpable. You felt like you might gag yourself.

Your attention snapped to Tech who was just as stunned as you’d been moments before. Apparently he’d not predicted this. Hunter kept a straight face, eyebrows a little furrowed. If he had any suspicions about your dual identity, this chaotic reveal was likely skewing his thoughts. Echo, ever the sentinel, stood slightly taller, his posture tightening as if preparing for conflict. Wrecker towered behind the group, watching on with a rare sense of seriousness.

Crosshair, shifting his weight casually and placing a toothpick between his lips, continued to provoke. “What? Don’t want him knowing about our little fun together?” His wording would’ve made you laugh had the situation been different. He stirring up a misunderstanding for his own amusement.

Your sister didn’t bite. She cocked an eyebrow, giving the sniper a challenging stare before turning her attention back to you. “Are these the clones that have been training you?” Her tone was sharp, and her expression mirrored the stern demeanor of your mother.

Caught between weeks of training to maintain silence in your armor and the escalating tension, you found yourself paralyzed, struggling to formulate a response. It seemed all you could do was breathe through the growing panic.

“You two know each other?” Wrecker piped up.

Your sister, her confusion morphing into frustration, glanced quickly back at the group. “Answer me,” she demanded, her voice heavy with authority that did nothing to ease the stiffness of your tongue.

“You little shit,” Crosshair fumed, stepping towards you but immediately restrained by Hunter’s firm grip. Despite being held back, he snapped, “Show respect and answer her.”

Receiving his anger as an unnamed clone never felt as painful as the anger directed to you now.

Whirling on them, your sister jabbed a finger at him. “Who do you think you’re talking to, clone?” The disrespect in the way she said ‘clone’ gutted you and visibly startled Wrecker and Crosshair.

“Me?” Crosshair retorted, pointing a finger back at her. “Why are you defending him?”

“Him?” Her voice rose almost to a shrill. You reached out, trying to pull her back from the brink of the confrontation, only to have your hand sharply slapped away. She spun around to face you. “Take that ridiculous thing off!” She reached for your helmet, and this time, you reflexively slapped her hand away.

Crosshair, seething with anger, wrenched free from Hunter's grasp and charged toward you. Tech's shouts echoed behind him, but Crosshair was undeterred. He brushed past your sister with a dismissive flick, gripped the rim of your helmet with one hand, and shoved you backward with the other. Just as you tumbled to the floor, your sister retaliated, pushing him away forcefully. From your position on the ground, you didn't see it, but the sharp slap she delivered resounded through the room.

With his cheek stinging from the slap, Crosshair held his ground, his grip white-knuckled on your helmet as he turned a furious gaze on the woman standing defiantly before him. The intensity in her eyes was something entirely new to him. They locked eyes, each poised for further confrontation, when a realization dawned on Crosshair.

He’d never seen you look quite like this. In fact, you seemed like a completely different person. Dropping the toothpick from his lips, confusion replaced the anger on his face as he scrutinized the subtle differences in the face before him—slight variations in aging lines and hair length. There was more than that, Crosshair realized as he picked out the innumerable differences.

“Crosshair…” Echo said hesitantly. Still sat on the floor, you were on full display for Echo.

Wrecker’s face fell as he glanced around Crosshair at you.

Steadying a shaky breath, you gathered what composure you could and pushed yourself up off the floor. "Calm down," you whispered, touching your sister’s shoulder as you rose beside her.

Standing there, you couldn't bring yourself to look directly at Crosshair, afraid of the disgust you might see mirrored on his face. You missed the horror breaking across him. Instead, you kept your gaze fixed on your sister, silently pleading, "Sister, please."

Snapping her hand out, your sister harshly gripped your face and forced it towards the men. “You're the ones who did this to her?” She was likely referencing the scar marking your nose or the other tiny, healed wounds your helmet had dealt you over time.

Heat scorched your face as you were forcibly put on display. You reluctantly met the eyes of Clone Force 99. Crosshair’s face was pale, his brows furrowed deeply and his mouth slightly ajar in a mix of horror and disbelief. Echo and Wrecker were in similar shades of shock. Hunter, on the other hand, looked almost regretful. 

Gently removing your sister’s tight grip, you attempted to soothe her. “They didn’t know. Mother-”

“Do not blame Mother for your stupid decisions!” She screamed, gesturing a hand at you.

“Stupid decisions?” You challenged, feeling insulted. “My decisions have been for you. So I can keep you safe.”

“I didn’t tell you to do something so childish and I didn’t tell you to go and ruin your face.” You inhaled sharply at her words. She knew how to slap with more than just her hand.

Ignoring the clones, she straightened herself, her demeanor cooling into a composed facade that echoed your mother's authority. “Enough.” she stated firmly, making you straighten your posture subconsciously. “You are to come home and act as my body double at an upcoming gathering. The clones who trained you are to act as your security.” Pulling her hood up to shroud her face, you saw a glimpse of your gentle sister once more. “We will discuss your future afterwards.”

With that, she was gone. 

Left alone with the squadron, you looked to the ceiling as opposed to facing them immediately.

Tech approached, saying your name. The others whipped their heads to him, the familiarity in his tone throwing them off. “Are you alright?” He asked gently.

“You knew about this?” Echo accused, turning on Tech.

“Of course I did.” Tech said quickly and dismissively.

Crosshair's hands clenched into fists repeatedly, his anger barely contained. "Was this all a game to you?" he growled, his gaze intense and accusing as he finally turned to you.

You were to weary to be angry at him. How he could ever think being pummeled everyday for weeks was anything close to a game was beyond you.

Meeting his fierce stare you offered a weak smile. It lasted only a second before it fell with your eyes. “No, never. I was sent here for training… I didn’t mean to deceive you.” Your mouth pressed into a tight line. “I’m sorry you were dragged into this.”

The room fell silent. Wrecker, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his voice a mix of confusion and concern. "So, all this time, you were…”

“Yes,” You finished for him. “But I didn’t mean for it to happen like this. I’ve been taking all the training seriously.”

“It shows.” Echo said softly.

Hunter stepped forward. “Alright, we can sort this all out later.” He gave you a firm nod. “As a team. But right now, we have a mission.” He extended you a hand and a smirk, an offering. “The rest… you can explain on the way.”

Your chest caved at the sight. Taking his hand you choked out, “Gladly.”

Tech adjusted his goggles with a smile. “Then that settles it.” Brandishing his datapad, he started scrolling through the screen. “And I have compiled a list of questions that will clarify this entire ordeal.”

Hunter walked beside you, placing an encouraging hand on your back. “Let’s get going.”

Echo and Wrecker still looked conflicted, but nodded in agreement with Hunter's decision, and even Crosshair, though still visibly upset, did not contest.

Tech gave one final note. “All things considered, that went far better than even I could have predicted.”

@bruh-myguy-what i hope you like <3

[cc--2224]

I'll Show You Heaven

Pairing: Crosshair x F!Reader

Summary: Crosshair was always someone of interest to you, much to the other clones’ dismay. When he hears a Reg disrespecting you, he doesn’t hesitate to step in. You were told that there was no point trying to fix him, but you knew you could handle dangerous; although it turned out that to you, he wasn’t dangerous at all.

Warnings: This is very much 18+ Minors do not interact! Alcohol and smoking mentions; drunk clones being assholes including one putting the reader in a dangerous/uncomfortable situation but nothing happens! Smut - masturbation, Crosshair having dirty thoughts, oral (m and f receiving), biting/marking, unprotected p in v - wrap it before you tap it!!, praise kink, one instance of Cross being too rough but he corrects it, porn with feelings, language, tons of compliments/pet names, jealous maybe slightly protective Crosshair

Notes: Very slightly based on the song I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

Word Count: ~6.4k

Taglist: None, let me know if you'd like to be added!

Masterlist

It was just another day. The haze of smoke lingering in the bar, the loud laughter and chatter amongst the patrons, and him. 

You had gotten to know most of the regulars at 79s, including Clone Force 99, but you never made it a point to become their friend. The clones, usually drunk, would flirt with you endlessly, but never the 99s. They kept to themselves, and you had learned over the months that they weren't very popular with the others.

You hadn't considered there were social hierarchies among the clones, but you supposed they were no different than any other group of people.

You traced the smoke back to the tall, silver-haired man. He sat at one of the tall tables, not quite facing the bar, but enough that you could see his sharp features silhouetted by the pulsing lights. 

He never looked pleased to be there, he seemed to have a permanent scowl, and you couldn't even recall a time where he said more than three words at a time, and none of them kind. 

And while these might be negative traits to most, but to you, these traits mixed with his deep brown eyes that you had caught on you once or twice, and the smirk that came along with it, the expression of an all-too-confident man, only helped to draw you in to him. 

You had a feeling that he was one to put up a front, wall himself in so that he didn't appear vulnerable. it made sense for a soldier, but there was a part of you that wanted to see what he was like when the walls came down.

"Hey! Cyar'ika!" You heard from behind you, you turned to face the clone holding his glass up to you. "You gonna give me a top up or stare at the reject squad all night?"

You rolled your eyes and turned to him too quickly to see the sharp glare of the man you were just staring at point at the rowdy clone. After refilling his glass, you set it down in front of him and gave him a warning, "Everyone is welcome in my bar, and everyone gets attended to while they're here. Understood, trooper?" 

Before he could answer, you walked toward the centre of the bar, making a point to keep an eye on all your patrons so they wouldn't also get the wrong idea about who was getting more attention. Your eyes naturally wandered back to where the 99s were sitting, briefly meeting with the same brown eyes you had been silently admiring just moments ago, the tattooed crosshairs outlining one of them perfectly. 

He turned his head back toward the rest of his squad but you could almost see him glance at you through the corner of his eyes at least once before you were called away again. 

"Y'know what?" The loud clone called out again, "I think you should just come home with me. I could make you forget all about them." He jerked his head toward the 99s. 

"And I think you've had too much to drink." You chided, ignoring his request for another top up.

"C'mon," He groaned. "If you're gonna cut me off, you should at least make it up to me. Wanna come home with a real man? I bet those 99s could never measure up to us if you get my meaning. Whattaya say, copikla?

Several clones laughed at his words, your Mando'a wasn't perfect, but based on their laughs, you assumed it wasn't nice. 

Before you could get security to kick him out, you heard a chair scrape against the floor and then the crack of knuckles on flesh. You didn't even see the tall clone cross the bar before he was laying into the loud one.

You ran out from behind the bar and tried to pull him back, as much as you didn't want to, you also didn't want him to be permanently banned either. 

Once he noticed you pulling his arm back, he stopped. 

"What's going on?" One of the security guards had come over, hearing the commotion.

"Nothing," you said before gesturing to the floor, "He had too much to drink. Best if he goes home."

The security looked at you carefully, making sure you were okay before helping the clone to his feet and walking him out of the bar.

You sighed and returned back to where you were standing before, watching the other clones glare but cautiously move out of the way of the 99.

He started walking back to his table before pausing and turning to look at you, his features almost seeming softer now. 

"You didn't have to cover for me." He said, a toothpick lodged between his lips.

You shrugged, "He was getting on my nerves, deserved the punch if you ask me. As long as you’re okay, I’m okay." You smiled up at him. 

You could handle yourself, you've been working at 79s for a while, you knew how unruly people could get when alcohol was involved, and as much as you could handle people yelling at you, you didn't like when your regulars hurled insults at groups who were just minding their own business. Especially when, to your understanding, they got enough of that back on their homeworld.

He hummed in response.

"Can I get you guys anything?" You asked after a brief silence had fallen.

"No, we're heading out. See you around." Almost on cue, the rest of his crew stood up and began to leave.

— — —

“You shouldn't have done that.” Hunter warned him quietly when they had returned to the Marauder.

Crosshair shoved past him to get into the ship.

“Regs will always take each other's side, if you get reported for starting a fight…”

“Again,” Tech chimed in.

“I'll deal with it if it happens. Regs are probably too drunk to remember anyway.” 

“Why'd you attack him, anyway?” Wrecker asked. 

His eyebrows furrowed, “Didn't you hear him? He was treating her like his little pet.”

The others looked at each other, seemingly sharing the same thought between them.

Hunter's voice didn't betray his thoughts, “Even still, you should go back and apologize. Probably scared the poor girl.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes at Hunter's order. 

“No promises.”

He went to his bunk and discarded his armour, laying on his bunk in his blacks. He couldn't seem to get your face out of his head. The way your eyes met, how you took his side even though his squad was right, he did start the fight. Your smile when you made sure that he was okay.

This wasn't the first time he had seen you, but it was the first time the two of you had ever spoken; he didn't do small talk, Hunter and Wrecker did.

But he wanted to talk to you again, he wanted to see you again, see you smiling up at him. 

The more you crept into his thoughts, the more he couldn't get you to leave. 

Eventually with the solitude of his bunk, his thoughts got the better of him. He imagined how you would look, naked and squirming under him. How you'd taste, how you'd feel around him. 

He couldn't shoo these thoughts away, he found himself palming his cock over his blacks at the thought of you taking it into your mouth. 

He had been with others before, but it was rare for him to feel like this. Usually when he’s with someone it’s just to get his own release, but thinking of you was different. He wanted to make you come, to hear you cry for him, to feel you come on his cock, on his fingers, whatever you’d allow. 

He wanted you, all of you. And he couldn’t stand the thought of some Reg pretending to flatter you just to get you into his bunk. You deserved better than that, you deserved someone who would treat you right, make you feel good, someone who could be good for you. Someone like him.

He reached his hand into his blacks, pulling himself out and stroking it. He let his mind continue to wander, imagining everything all over again as a loop. He thought of your voice, telling him how good he was, telling him how he was made for you, how no one else could satisfy you like him. He thought of marking your neck, your tits, your thighs. 

As he began to reach his climax, he stroked himself faster, he thought about filling you up with his release, he didn’t know where, whether it was your throat or your cunt, he just knew he wanted to come inside you. 

This thought sent him over the edge as he spilled out over his hand with a groan.

He knew it wasn't right to think this way, he didn't even know you, but he also knew there was no way for you to know what was going through his mind.

But would it be so bad if you did? 

— — —

Something about his expression when he finally came back to the bar was different than it had been a few days ago. Not bad by any means, just not how he normally looked. 

Part of it was likely due to the fact that he was in civilian clothes instead of his armour, nut most of all, his ever-present scowl seemed softer, and he didn't wear a smirk when he noticed you looking at him, instead he almost seemed nervous. 

He walked toward the bar and sat on one of the stools, scanning to make sure none of the gathering clones were the one from a few rotations ago. 

"Can I get you something?" You asked him with a smile.

He blinked like he still somehow wasn't expecting you to talk to him after what happened, but then shook his head. "No, nothing."

He sighed, looking down at the counter in front of him. "I wanted to..."

You looked at him, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"My actions the other day, that wasn't okay."

Your face softened into a small smile. "Don't worry about it, nothing to apologize for."

"Did the Reg apologize to you?"

"Oh, no I haven't seen him, but like I said, nothing to apologize for. I'm used to it." You told him nonchalantly. His gaze snapped up to meet yours and his eyes narrowed.

"Used to it? Being drunk doesn't give them an excuse to be assholes to you." His voice raised slightly.

"Really, it's fine. I'm just sorry you had to hear him talk about your squad like that for so long."

He laughed quietly and used your words back at you, "We're used to it."

Neither of you said anything for a bit. You worked on pouring another glass for one of the other patrons at the bar and then turned back to face him.

"I see you guys around here often, but until the other day, you and I have never spoken, I'd like to change that.” your kind smile at him caused his heart to pound in his chest, but when he didn't answer, you continued. “You have a name, trooper?" 

"Crosshair." 

You smirked then told him yours. 

"Where's the rest of your squad today?"

"They stayed back, wanted me to make sure you were okay. But since you are, I should be going."

He was out of the stool and heading toward the door before you could convince him to stay. He needed to clear his head, it wasn't like him to feel so reserved and shy, but he felt your presence hammering on the walls he had built for himself and he didn't know if he was ready for them to come down.

You watched him as he left and smiled to yourself. Was he really concerned about your opinion of him so much that he came all the way here just to apologize? Or maybe he just wanted to make sure the other trooper kept his distance. Either way, seeing him was always a treat, and now you had a name to go with his face.

"I'd be careful of him." One of the clones said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"What do you mean?"

"Clone Force 99 isn't known for following rules. They have the highest success rate out of any squad, but the way they complete their missions goes against most protocols we have. That one, Crosshair, he's their sniper, a dangerous one at that, and definitely not a friendly sort of person, someone you don't want to get on the bad side of. Not someone you can just fix with that pretty smile of yours." 

You listened to him as he warned you, but even still, Crosshair and his squad intrigued you. You wanted to get to know them better.

Crosshair had caught your eye from the moment you had first seen him, and now the gap between you was finally starting to close.

You wanted to be his friend, but you were also curious about being more than that. You wanted to see what he was like when the two of you were alone. Was he sweet? Was he demanding? Was he some mix of both? 

You wanted to know what his lips would feel like, what he would taste like, how he'd feel. Thoughts that sparked a flame in your core. You didn't know if you'd ever get an answer to any of them, but the world worked in mysterious ways.

— — —

Once everyone had cleared out and you got some cleaning done, it was finally time to go home. 

It was late, too late to be wandering around the understreets of Coruscant alone, but you knew the most direct way back to your apartment, and had a blaster set to stun, just in case.

You turned down the alleyway, and you saw a figure push itself off the wall and walk toward you. 

"Awful late, isn't it?" You could hear the faint accent of a clone, and the audible slurring of one that had too much to drink.

"Come on, copikla, let me walk you home."

He stumbled toward you. When he came into the light, you could see the black eye that Crosshair had given him, still purple and blue despite the days that had passed.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Don't be like that, I wanted to apologize and do something nice for you. C'mon." He got closer to you and you felt your hand shake as you reached for your blaster.

"There's no need for that," He told you when you had the blaster fixed on him. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Then go back to your barracks, trooper."

He smirked, "Y'see the other day, your friend from the reject squad, he gave me this-" He said as he pointed to his eye. "All because I gave you a compliment, so really, you o-" 

Before he could finish his sentence you saw a blue bolt whiz past you, hitting the clone and stunning him.

You turned to see where it came from and at the other side of the alleyway, Crosshair stood with a pistol drawn.

He walked toward you, "He hasn't had a very good week." He pointed out, looking at the clone on the ground before bending down to look at his armour, looking for his identifier.

"What are you doing?" 

"Getting his ID. He'll probably be sent back to Kamino for a while for breaking protocol."

He brought his comm up to his face. "Tech, I’m sending you coordinates and a trooper ID, arrange a pickup."

"Copy." You heard the distorted voice through the comm link before Crosshair began typing in numbers.

"You seem confused." He said, looking at you now.

"I thought your squad didn't care about rules and protocol."

He smirked, "Regs have been talking about us, huh? That's true, we do our own thing and don't take orders very well but.. we wouldn't put a civ in danger in a dark alleyway, he should have known better."

"Well, thank you for helping me, but.. how did you know I'd be here?"

"I didn't. After I left the bar earlier, I went back to our ship, but there aren't many places there to think quietly so I went for a walk."

"I see. I guess it's a good thing you were here. I have a blaster for my own safety, but I froze." You looked at the gun in your hand and sighed.

"Don't worry about it, the Coruscant guard will be here before long to deal with him.”

He turned on his heels and began walking away and you watched him before looking down.

“Crosshair?” You called out before he could get too far.

He turned to look at you again but didn't say anything.

“I'm not too far but.. could you walk with me? I just…” You trailed off looking at the stunned clone at your feet.

He walked back over to you, “Of course.”

He was silent for the remainder of the walk, but he walked with you to your door.

"Would you like to come in?" You asked as you punched in the key code.

"You sure?" 

You nodded and the door hissed open, you walked in, followed by Crosshair.

He looked around your place, it was small but it was inviting.

He knew he should have just gone back to the Marauder, but part of him wanted to make sure you felt safe, and another, much more hidden part of him thought that if you had invited him in, maybe his thoughts of you hadn't been as one-sided as he thought.

"Make yourself at home." You told him.

He sat on the small sofa in the living room, his arm draped over the back, and you stared at him, remembering what the clone had said at the bar. If Crosshair really was someone to look out for, you didn't see it. You would even go as far as to say that he was being kind to you. 

"Like what you see?" He asked when he caught you staring at him, his tone slightly huskier now that he was indoors. 

You rolled your eyes, and walked over toward the couch, sitting at the opposite end from him, but turned to look at him.

"What does copikla mean? I know cyar'ika and mesh'la because I get those a lot from the regulars, but that guy was the only one to call me that."

He looked at you and frowned slightly. "It means cute, but in a way you'd say to a child or a tooka kit, not a woman. That Reg wasn't paying you a compliment when he called you that."  

"I see. And that's why you jumped him?"

"I had enough of him long before that point, but yes."

You didn't notice that as you spoke, the more distance had been closed between you and Crosshair until your knees brushed lightly.

"What if it were a compliment?" You asked.

"I guess it depends on how you reacted, if you weren't comfortable." His eyes bore into yours now. "But you seem to like the compliments from the Regs." 

You shrugged, "As I said earlier, I'm used to it." 

His hand moved toward you, gently caressing your face. You could feel the calluses on his fingertips brush against your skin and you leaned into his touch.

"Would you react the same if I complimented you?" He asked, his voice a little more than a whisper.

"You could try." You answered. “See what happens.”

His hand traveled down to rest on the side of your neck, with his thumb stroking your jawline. 

He shifted slightly closer to you, eyes half-lidded. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you were certain he could hear it with how quiet it was in the room.

Crosshair leaned over to you and looked into your eyes, looking for any hint of hesitation, and when he didn't find any, he pulled you into a kiss. It wasn't demanding, but it wasn't gentle either. You could tell that this is what he had been thinking about when he said he had to clear his mind. 

Neither of you had been sure if the other wanted this, but when your lips connected, you both figured it out.

His tongue pushed into your mouth and he swallowed the moan you gave when you tasted him.

His other hand had made its way over to you, resting on your waist. Your hands rested on his chest at first, but slowly wrapped around the back of his neck, drawing him closer.

He sat back to look at you, leaned against the arm of the couch, lips starting to swell, pupils dilated, and he smirked.

"You're beautiful." He told you. You knew he was trying to get a reaction from you, but his voice was sincere. 

You could feel yourself getting warmer, and your stomach beginning to coil with the dull ache you felt between your legs. 

You slid off the couch and gently took his hand, pulling him up with you.

He seemed confused for a moment, so you clarified.

"Figured you'd want somewhere a bit more comfortable."

His smirk returned, "Presumptuous of you."

"If I'm wrong, we can continue to sit here."

"Oh no, you’re not wrong. Lead the way, mesh'la." 

You had heard the Mando'a compliments so many times they didn't even feel like real words to you, but Crosshair saying it brought new life. 

When you didn't move, he leaned in to kiss you, but you ducked out of the way and began walking to your room.

He watched you walk away, slightly offended when you dodged his kiss, but that disappeared when he looked at your hips swaying, beckoning him to follow you. 

When you walked into your bedroom, you turned on the lamp beside your bed before sitting with your back to the pillows, watching the door for him.

He entered slowly and you finally took a good look at him. He seemed much taller in your apartment than he did at the bar. You eyed him from head to toe, feeling your core clench slightly when you noticed the raised outline of his crotch straining against his jeans.

"Come here," you said, your voice low.

He walked around to the end of your bed, crawling over you with one leg on either side of your ankles.

"Closer." You breathed. 

He moved upward, hovering parallel to your hips, eyes fixed on your core.

"Good boy,." You praised him. You didn't expect him to groan at that, but as if something ignited in him, he dipped down, kissing your stomach, then your hips, and moving down to kiss your thighs before hooking his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, looking up at you to ask permission.

"Yes, please, Crosshair." 

He worked your jeans and panties off in one fell swoop, throwing them to a corner somewhere once they were off. You gasped when you felt his lips on your upper thigh, slowly trailing higher.

You arched your back slightly, desperate to feel him, but he smirked against your leg, biting into the soft flesh, before kissing the mark he had left. 

He moaned when he felt your fingernails scratch against his scalp, trying to guide his head when you needed him.

He left another mark on your other thigh before licking a stripe from that mark all the way to your centre.

Your back arched again, pulling his face closer to you.

"You like that, mesh'la?" His voice vibrating against you.

"Y-yes!" You threw your head back in pleasure when you felt his tongue circle your entrance before swiping up between your folds, tasting all you had to give him.

"G-good boy, keep... keep going." 

His hands found their way to your hips, holding them in place, you were certain that he was going to leave bruises on each one but you didn't care.

His lips clasped around your clit and he sucked so hard you saw stars, and then he went back to using his tongue, circling the bud slowly, trying to pull every moan from you that he could.

"Say it again." He said against your centre.

"Say what again?" You teased, knowing exactly what he wanted.

"Call me a-" He licked you up and down again, not finishing his question.

"Oh, you want me to call you a good boy?" You asked sweetly.

He rutted his hips against the bed as his tongue dove into you.

You cried out his name. The intensity of him drinking you up had begun to build and with it, you could feel yourself beginning to come undone. You were so close, you could feel your walls clench around his tongue, and he pulled it out.

You looked down at him in time to see his hand slide down from your hip, and he planted two fingers inside you, curling them against your walls.

"Go-good, you're so good, Crosshair, know just what I want." 

He groaned, grinding against the bed again before adding another finger, drawing a cry from your lips.

His thumb took over for his tongue against your clit as his long fingers worked on opening you up. He placed gentle, yet desperate kisses wherever he could, nipping at your soft flesh.

"Cro-Crosshair I- I'm so close."

He sucked another mark onto your thigh and groaned when he felt your hand tighten around his hair.

Your hips bucked as you felt yourself get closer and closer to your release.

"That's it, come all over my fingers." His voice coaxed you further, "Let me feel you."

His tongue went back to your center, working circles around you again as your walls continued to clench around him.

It didn't take much else to pull the orgasm out of you, you cried out his name as you came undone, legs twitching and hips bucking as he continued to work you through it.

He pulled his fingers out of you, and kissed your center once again before leaving a trail of kisses up toward your neck, slowly lifting your shirt as he went before it, too, was thrown into the corner of your room. He nipped and kissed the sensitive skin, leaving you another mark before kissing your jawline and lips once more.

He was perched above you, leaning on one of his elbows while he straddled your hips, his jeans doing little to hide the feeling of his stiffness pressing into you.

“How was that, beautiful?” He asked you, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Perfect,” you replied. “I think you deserve some attention now too, for being so good to me.” He bucked his hips involuntarily into you.

He brought his hand up to cup your face. His fingers still wet from your slick. He rested them against your lips before pushing them past. You moaned against his digits as he pressed them against your tongue, making you taste yourself. You circled each of his fingers with your tongue before sucking on them gently. He pressed his head into where your shoulder and neck meet as he reluctantly pulled his fingers out of your mouth, thinking of nothing else but how your lips would feel wrapped around his cock.

“Do you want me to fuck you, cyar'ika?” 

“Gods, yes, but first I want to taste you.”

His cock twitched against his jeans.

“I didn't know you could read minds.” He said, his voice low.

“I can't, I just know how I want to reward my good boy.” 

Before he could say anything else, he got up from you and sat back on his heels, undoing the button on his jeans, and unzipping them just enough to relieve some of the strain. 

You sat up and crawled toward him, resting your hands on his thighs, looking up at him for any sign of discomfort before you pulled on the waistband.

“You know, it's not very fair that you're so covered and I'm not.” You told him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“No? Well, we can fix that.” He quickly pulled his shirt off before throwing it aside, revealing his toned chest. Your hands brushed against his abdomen and he sighed. You began idly tracing the outlines of his muscles and scars, and he took your chin between his fingers and tilted your face up to his, kissing you gently at first then with more passion. You felt him bite your bottom lip and you moaned into his mouth. Your hands glided across his skin before finding the waistband of his jeans again.

Without breaking the kiss, he helped you to disrobe him, and when you pulled down on his briefs, he sucked in a breath, feeling his cock spring free.

You looked down at it and instinctively parted your lips slightly, feeling your pussy clench around nothing in anticipation.

“You just going to stare at it all night?” He asked you.

You shook your head, “Can't wait to taste you, to feel you fuck my mouth.” 

You saw his cock twitch at your words and you looked up at him with a smirk. “Is that what you want?”

Instead of answering, he laced his fingers through your hair, guiding you down toward him. You were bent over, using your elbows for support with your ass in the air. 

“I could get used to this view,” Crosshair said. You didn't have to look up to know he was staring at your ass, but you pulled his gaze back to the back of your head when you kissed the side of his length. His breath hitched at each gentle kiss you gave him, and you heard him try to subdue a moan when you licked a stripe along the vein at the bottom all the way to the head, cleaning up any pre-cum that had already begun to spill out. 

“F-Fuck,” He sputtered.

You peered up at him through your lashes and his grip tightened around your hair, trying his hardest to not buck his hips and force himself into your mouth.

Your tongue swirled around his head before you took it into your mouth.

He whispered your name as he guided you further down onto him, and you took him inch by inch. 

You couldn't fit him all, you felt yourself gag slightly when he got to the back of your throat, which earned another moan from him, and you wrapped one hand around whatever had been left out. 

“Gods, you're taking me so well, wanna feel you gag on me again.” 

You moaned around him as he began using your mouth. He bucked his hips into you as he brought your head further down onto him. Your throat closed around him once again and you felt tears prick in the corner of your eyes. 

You ran your tongue across the bottom of him again, bobbing your head up and down on him, swallowing around him, sucking on him, all while he was bucking his hips into you.

His thrusts started to quicken, becoming slightly more erratic, and you gave a warning tap on his leg, you couldn't take him that quickly. He understood and slowed down.

“S-Sorry, beautiful, didn't mean to hurt you, I'm just getting close..” 

You removed your hand from the base of his length and gently caressed his balls as you continued bobbing on his cock.

“Gonna make me- I'm gonna come down your throat if you- if you keep that up.” He said between pants. 

You hummed around him and kept going. You felt him begin to tighten up and you could hear quiet curses fall from his lips. 

He moaned your name as your cheeks hollowed out around him. He stilled inside your mouth, and you felt hot spurts of him hit the back of your throat. You swallowed everything he gave you before pulling off of him, a trail of saliva keeping you connected to him for a moment longer before you sat up on your knees.

He was breathing heavily and when he looked at you, you could still see his eyes full of lust. 

“Cyar'ika,” He breathed out. “You are so incredible.” 

You leaned forward to kiss him before you felt yourself fall back onto the pillows with him caging you in with his arms.

His kisses were hungry, he pushed his tongue into your mouth, tasting himself and you on your tongue. 

“Want to fuck you. Want to be so good for you.” He said almost into your mouth. “Want to hear you scream my name as I come inside you.” 

His words elicited another moan from you, and he took the opportunity to push his tongue between your lips again.

His cock began pressing into your leg as you felt him getting hard again.

“Crosshair,” you said quietly. He stopped and looked at you, afraid he might have crossed a line. “Lie down.” 

He got up from on top of you and rolled onto his back as you moved to straddle his torso.

You kiss him gingerly on the lips, and then his neck. You felt his hands come up and rest on your hips.

“You gonna be good for me?” 

He nodded quickly. You kissed the tip of his nose before positioning yourself above his cock. He bucked his hips once trying to close the distance.

“Patience.” You told him before sinking down on him.

Heaven. 

That was the only word that could describe how he felt inside of you. His eyes screwed shut, your tight walls felt like they were suffocating his cock as they fluttered around him and he needed to feel more of it. You threw your head back and he tightened his grip on your hips. You sunk yourself down slowly until he had fully disappeared into you. 

Once you had adjusted to how he felt, you moved your hips against him as you leaned over him, seeking out his lips. He kissed you back with fervour as his hands slid around to your back and he bucked his hips to meet your movements.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him back up with you. His face was buried in your chest when you straighted your back, and you could feel his lips press against your breasts, and then his teeth. 

You moaned at the feeling, rolling your hips into him faster. His hands glided along your skin back to your hips. He held them tightly as he lifted you off of him slightly before shoving you back down. 

“Fuck, Crosshair!” You cried, feeling him even deeper inside you. 

He groaned as your walls constricted around him again, this time when he lifted you off of him, he had nearly pulled out completely before slamming himself back in. 

You panted out quiet curses as you tightened your arms around him.

“This okay?” He asked you as he did it again.

“Yes, gods, you feel so good. Want you to fuck me harder, feels so good.” 

You didn't need to ask him twice. His hands slid up to your back as he eased you down on the bed before putting his hands on either side of your head.. He used his knee to push your leg up, opening you up more for him. 

His slammed himself all the way in again, each thrust seeming to reach further and further. Your hands fell above your head and he used the opportunity to grab both of your wrists with his hand, pinning them above you as he drove himself into you again at a brutal pace, relishing in the way your tits bounced with each of his thrusts. 

“Gods Crosshair, being such a good boy for me,” you panted.

His lips landed on your neck, kissing you then biting you, leaving another mark on the soft skin.

“You're marking me up so well.” You said as he gave you another love bite just above the last one.

“Gotta make sure everyone knows that you're mine, make sure that trooper knows who you belong to.”

You arched your back with a moan, just as he thrusted into you. With his relentless pace, you knew you wouldn't last much longer, his words were only sending you further over the edge.

“Getting so close, Crosshair,” you said between thrusts. 

He answered by bringing his free hand down to rub circles around your clit.

“Come on my cock, wanna feel you come, wanna hear you scream for me.”

The coil tightened again, he felt your walls squeezing him and his breath hitched.

“I'm gonna come with you, angel,” He told you. “Tell me where you want me.”

“Inside, I want to feel you fill me up.” 

His grip on your wrists tightened as his pace with his other hand quickened, pulling moans from you with each thrust.

“Pl-please, I'm so cl- so close,” you whined, getting more desperate for your release.

He knew that he couldn't keep going for much longer as his thrusts became more erratic, but he was determined to wait for you.

Your moans grew louder and you clamped around his cock more with each thrust. The build up was getting to be too much, until eventually the knot in your stomach came undone, you screamed his name as your orgasm finally crashed over you. 

“That's it, just like that,” He said, his hand moved from your wrists to intertwine his fingers with yours as he thrusted as far into you as he could, spilling into you, painting your walls with his his release. 

You both stayed as you were, panting, looking into each other's eyes and then his lips came crashing down onto yours as he pulled himself out of you.

“You're incredible,” you told him, completely blissed out.

“So are you.” He buried his face in your neck, not moving from on top of you.

“Shower?” You asked, and he sighed and nodded into you.

“Please.” 

He got up off you and took your hand, waiting for you to lead him.

“I take it you liked the compliments.” He said, more of a statement than a question.

“Hm?”

“Unless that’s how you always act when a clone compliments you.”

You shook your head, “No, that was reserved only for you.” 

He had a smug smile as you began to walk to the fresher with him in tow.

“Can't wait to see what the others say when you walk into the bar, with my marks all over you.” He said, grabbing your hips from behind, pulling you back toward him.

“Well, not all over me, but there's still time, if you're good.”

You escaped from his grip and he all but dragged you into the refresher.

[arctrooper69]

Mine

Here's my piece for the wonderful @isaidonyourknees for the @cloneficgiftexchange! So sorry it's a day and a half late! 😂😅

Warnings: Suggestive spice (nothing explicit), unwanted advances, jealousy, angst

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

"Leave me alone, Crosshair." The order meant to be snappish slipped out instead with a tired sigh.

"No," came the reply.

You sighed again as you felt him shift and sit down a few feet away. No more words were exchanged - the silence felt both peaceful, yet suffocating.

"Why are you up here pouting?" He finally spoke.

You glanced at him sharply. "I'm not pouting!"

"Yes you are."

"No. I'm not!"

He huffed dryly. "Sure looks like it to me."

"Hunter benched me!"

Crosshair shifted and sighed, "It's for your own good."

You scoffed, "And how would you know what's good for me?"

"You're exhausted. You're off your game."

"I'm fine. I feel fine."

He sighed again and you could practically feel him rolling his eyes. "That constant tapping of your foot and the way you're shaking tells me you're trying to run on stims and caf."

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. "And how would you know?"

He was silent. "Because I've done the same thing."

"So that makes you think you're better than me?"

"No."

You crossed your arms, turning away from him. “I’m still not pouting.”

“Sure.”

You glared at him out of the corner of your eye. “Just go away.” This time the words did deliver the sharp edge you’d wanted before, but now you weren’t sure it was exactly what you wanted.

You didn’t know what you wanted.

“Fine, came the equally snappish response. Crosshair stood and headed back down the wooded trail. A sudden disappointment threatened to overtake you and a heat burned in the back of your throat as you tried to swallow it back.

“Crosshair wait…” you called out, turning to face him as he paused and turned back.

“What?”

“I…” You stopped. No. Crosshair had better things to do than to deal with emotions that you yourself couldn’t even decipher. “Nevermind.”

For a second he paused, almost as if waiting for you to once again change your mind. He shook his head and turned around once again, disappearing into the woods, leaving you on your own.

Fine. It’s fine. You’d asked for privacy and that’s exactly what he gave you. Yet, it felt lonely nonetheless.

Crosshair was confusing to say the least. One moment it felt like he was trying to make an emotional connection, and the next he acted like he wanted nothing to do with you.

The roar of engines echoed through the trees from the base of the hill as the Marauder soared into the sky and disappeared into the atmosphere.

***

It seemed like forever ago that you'd met the surly sniper on a job. It was forever ago. So much had changed since a heated exchange of angry words led to a moment of heedless passion. One night. A romance ignited by the very intensity that divided you. The same fingers that rested pompously on the trigger of a rifle soon pulled through tangled hair and moved with purpose against your warmth. Tongues once sharp and taunting, now slotted through parted lips with desperate pleas for more.

And then it was over. Back to the cold realities of war. No words were spoken, only awkward avoidances and inverted eyes.

Talk to me, you'd wanted to say. Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need.

Perhaps that's all it was to him. Maybe you'd given him everything he wanted in that moment. Maybe that's all you were to him - a distraction - a soldier's relief from the stress of a never ending war.

You'd wanted to say something but the words wouldn't come. Then the galaxy changed and as the Republic fell, so did your hopes.

And now after so long, he was back.

***

It was nearing dusk before you finally pushed yourself from the ground and headed back down the path.

Fueled by a growing sense of hunger and the need to be around others, you found yourself walking towards the local cantina.

The music blared from somewhere above, pumping a bass that rattled your bones.

Despite the club-like atmosphere the lighting was dim, illuminating the same bar scene that haunted almost every planet in the galaxy.

The air was thick with the scent of spice and the sound of raucous laughter. You sat at the bar, nursing a drink. Despite the bustle, it still felt lonely.

“Hey there, sweetheart.”

Fingers ran across your back as you spun around to face the unfamiliar voice.

A large nikto smiled drunkenly over at you as he leaned against the bar.

“You look lonely. You here alone?”

His breath reeked of alcohol. “You're real pretty,” he slurred, reaching out to grab your arm.

You jerked away, shooting him a glare. "Back off," you growled, voice barely audible over the din of the crowd.

The nikto persisted, his grip tightening. "Come on, don't be like that.”

“Dude,” you rolled your eyes, “leave me alone.”

He sighed, seemingly annoyed at your refusal.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn't be alone in a place like this. Let me at least walk you home, baby.”

“Don't call me that,” You spat, wrenching your arm from his grip.

His jaw stiffened as he stood up straighter.

“You should be more grateful that I'm even giving you the time of day, bitch!”

Now it was your turn to stand. The nikto grabbed your arm again. Your fingers curling into a fist, ready to strike the stupid smirk from his drunken face.

"She's not yours to touch."

A familiar voice growled from behind as the nikto’s hand was wrenched from your arm with a cry of pain.

Crosshair.

What was he doing back already? You turned to face him standing behind you, expression dark and dangerous. His hand rested on the blaster at his hip, ready to draw at a moment's notice.

The nikto's eyes narrowed. “And who do you think you are, asshole?”

Crosshair glowered, taking a menacing step forward. “I'm the guy who's going to put an extra hole in you if you don't leave immediately.”

The nikto paused, unsure if he was bluffing or not.

Crosshair clicked the safety off, loosening the blaster from its holster.

"I'm not gonna ask you again," he said, voice low and threatening.

The nikto had enough. “Geez, okay fine! I'm leaving!”

Without another word, he turned and fled, disappearing into the crowd.

You stood silently watching as Crosshair stepped forward, his practiced eyes scanning every inch of you.

“Are you alright?” He asked, “Did he hurt you?”

You let out a shaky breath, “No,” you murmured, “I'm fine.” A smile flitted across your face as you looked up.

Honey brown eyes stared sharp, pierced with concern and something else.

Jealousy?

“Good.” He replied. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something more but couldn't find the courage to do so.

But this time something rose within your own chest, warm and encouraging.

“Crosshair?” The words came timidly despite their bold intent.

He looked sharply, “What?”

“What did you mean by that? ‘She's not yours to touch’?” You asked. His hand, still on your arm, gripped a bit tighter, pulling you close. Something flashed in his eyes. It wasn't the hardness you'd come to expect from him.

“It means you're mine. You've always been mine.”

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

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[replaytech]

crosshair drabble cause that man has taken over my thoughts

- crosshair is the type of guy to literally act like your bodyguard. you wanna go on a mission by yourself? funny.

“I’ll be back in a few hours.”

He picks up his helmet, “That’s nice. I’ll meet you on the ship.”

- will absolutely pick you up and throw you over his shoulder whenever you give him attitude.

“roll your eyes again, pretty.”

so you did. the two of you had gotten a little agitated with each other on this particular mission.

he sighs and flicks his toothpick to the ground.

you see his hands reach for your waist, “what are you-“, you cut off with a yelp as he throws you over his shoulder.

“I’ll put you down when you’re done with that attitude.”

“I’m gonna kill you.”

he pats the area behind your knee, “how touching.”

- LOVES to pull you into a random alcove of the marauder and kiss you like the ship is going down. any minute he can get alone with you is a blessing. idc what anyone says, this man is a gentle kisser. the kind to put his hand on the back of your head to keep you in place UGH!!!

[crosshairlovebot]

enclosed intentions / crosshair gn!reader

pairing: crosshair x gn!reader (no y/n). reader has a nickname.

description: amid your growing feelings for the silver-haired sniper, you and crosshair are paired together on a mission that goes awry, which brings to light intentions you've been aching to know.

word count: 9,934 (pHEW!!)

warnings: near-death experience (everyone lives). landslide. heavy storms. enclosed spaces. minor injury. minor injury description. making out. light angst.

been wanting to write another crosshair fic for a while bc he's my GUY and i love him!!! season 3 is only fuelling the burning fire he stokes in my chest. i hope you enjoy this! strap in! it's a long one! (sorry if there are any errors, i've edited this but it's so long it's entirely possible that i missed some <3)

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated.

More often than not, Clone Force 99 was sent on dangerous missions – missions too specialised for the regular battalions and squads that filled the Grand Army of the Republic. The missions that troubled Jedi Generals regarding the potential loss of men. But Clone Force 99 and their specialised skills took on those missions with ease, enthusiasm even.

You were about to embark on another one of those missions.

When you’d first joined the GAR as a medic, you’d heard rumours about the squad of defective clones and their enhanced skills, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t impressed by their reportedly unbroken mission success.

When Echo walked into your medbay after he’d been rescued from Skako Minor and you were the first to check over him – making him feel comfortable after years of prodding and inhumane treatment – it only made sense for you to join the team as a field medic to continue to treat him and the other members of the squad.

Though they were initially dubious of the idea of a nat-born joining their ranks, they had always been a misfit crew – you were only another addition to that, and it wasn’t long before your presence with the squad felt like being at home.

You got on with each of the members well, even if they grumbled and complained about your regularly scheduled medical check-ups after missions.

Tech was a great help in collating the medical files he’d made from when he acted as the informal medic. You joked along with Wrecker, who often used you as an alternate barbell, lifting you over his head to warm up before a mission. Hunter often conferred with you before mission briefings to go over any hazards that could harm them. Echo was probably your strongest bond, the trust that existed between you both created a level of closeness not shared with the other members of the squad.

But Crosshair…

You’d soon discovered that Crosshair was weary of anyone who wasn’t part of his immediate family, and you joining Clone Force 99 – and in such constant close quarters, meant your relationship with the sharpshooter was a little more distant than the others.

You tried not to let it bother you so much, but it was hard when you were joking with Wrecker, and you could feel Crosshair’s discerning enhanced eyes on you. You often ignored his gaze as best you could, but sometimes you would look over at him, and hold his eyes for a moment before he got up and walked away.

You wish you knew what those looks meant. You would lay in your bunk at night, and think about it, trying to piece together any patterns and figure out why Crosshair’s eyes never seemed to truly leave you.

Despite the distance between you both, it didn’t deter your intrigue about him. There was something about him that drew your attentions towards him.

If you didn’t feel his eyes on you, your eyes would find him. He was so fascinating to watch. Everything he did, he did with purpose; intention. Nothing about Crosshair was insignificant. Every word, every gesture, every look held meaning. You liked trying to figure it out, but you had yet to decipher much of it – especially when it was directed at you. He was like a puzzle that didn’t want to be solved, hiding all his answers in disappearing ink, you had to hold him up to the light to try and unravel him. You wished he would let you, but his terse demeanour kept you at bay - not wanting to disturb what balance you had.

So you were content to watch him from a distance. He was methodical about everything. Cleaning his rifle the same way after every mission, never missing a step, always performing each of them in the same order. His armour went on the same way. You would watch how his toothpicks would always dangle from his lips as he cleaned his prized weapon, and you would almost be hypnotised by the way he moved the wooden stick between his teeth. You spent so much time staring at his mouth, that you could probably draw it from memory.

He was magnetising.

Whenever you needed to perform a medical check on him, you would do so quietly and draw it out, as if trying to soak up every moment of the closeness to him, catalogue it all.

When it came to checking his hands, you would gently hold them in your palms and gently massage the joints that could get cramped from holding the rifle tightly. You would check the nerves with a light prick on each fingertip and around the palm. Those examinations were so tense, his eyes on you the entire time watching your every move in the tiny medbay on the Marauder. You could barely focus in that room, there was nowhere to hide from his sharp eyes. And when you dared meet his gaze, his eyes would hold yours in a way that left you breathless and you were never able to look him in the eyes for very long. They’d look right into yours, an expression dancing in them you could never place.

But he never said anything to you – not unless you asked him a question about pain. But you’d think about each interaction for days afterwards.

Your silent exchanges filled your head at night, spilling over into your dreams. Dreams where those hands you’d just inspected in the waking world would be holding you tightly, that mouth you’d stared at brushing against your cheek and neck, whispering things you pretended not to remember once you woke. You’d wake up from those dreams confused, still feeling the ghost of his touches on you. It didn’t hit you until several dreams later that that initial intrigue had given way to feelings much deeper; to an intense crush that only seemed to build the longer you spent with Clone Force 99.

If anyone else noticed, they never said anything. You carried on as normal and hoped Hunter’s heightened senses didn’t pick up on the way your face heated or your heartbeat increased when Crosshair was near.

Except the silence between you broke a few days ago.

After the last mission, you were scheduled to do the weekly checks on the squad. You always left Crosshair until last, knowing he liked to clean his rifle as soon as the mission debrief was over. When you called him into the tiny room, he sat down on the bench, and you completed the first part of the check-up smoothly.

It was when you were massaging one of his hands, loosening the stiffness with your own fingers, that you felt his close around yours.

You had stilled and slowly looked up at him. His brown-eyed gaze met yours and you felt the air get sucked out of your lungs. You watched his eyes flick between yours, his throat working as his fingers were warm around yours. He was holding your hand, and it was warm and strong despite its slenderness. It was such an innocent gesture, and yet the sensation of his touch made your face burn and heat unfurl in your chest as your feelings for the sniper were unleashed in full force. You didn’t know what to do, but you would be lying if you didn’t like the feel of his fingers around yours. But this was Crosshair – the Crosshair who barely spoke to you, who watched you like he was analysing your every move.

“A-am I hurting you?” you managed to stammer out.

Crosshair blinked, seemingly jolting himself out of a trance and pulled his hands away roughly, frowning. “No.” His voice was like gravel, and he stood up and quickly left the room, check-up unfinished.

You had no idea what had happened, what you had done, what he had done, but you stood in that room trying to quell your racing heart for ages before you worked up the nerve to emerge. You spent that night thinking about the warmth of his fingers around yours and the way his throat bobbed like he wanted to tell you something.

What was it that he wanted to say? You knew Crosshair was always intentional in everything he did, so what was his intention with holding your hand like that?

Now, as the Marauder flew into a planet you couldn’t remember the name of, you felt those brown eyes on you from where Crosshair sat in one of the seats in the cockpit, his arms crossed and toothpick between his lips. Echo helped Tech guide the ship as Wrecker bench-pressed Gonky in the corridor. Hunter stood nearby as you held onto the back of Tech’s pilot seat as the ship flew into the planet’s atmosphere.

Since joining the squad a mere two months ago, you had been to more planets than you ever thought you would visit in your entire lifetime, but you had never seen anything like this.

The sky was full of enormous floating rocks, with thick greenery on top. You didn’t know how they stayed floating like this.

“This place is unbelievable,” you murmured. “How is this possible?”

“The rocks are held up by the planet’s unique gravity, creating a balanced pull that tethers the rock to its place. Think of them as miniature planets that exist within the atmosphere,” Tech explained.

You hummed in amazement as Tech flew past them all and steered towards the planet’s surface, which lay beneath a thick bank of dark clouds. The clouds gave way to rocky terrain, with a mountain range that jutted up from the ground haphazardly, not unlike their floating counterparts, as well as canyons and valleys. The whole planet seems to be rocks in various states. Tech landed the ship in a clear area and then everyone turned to Hunter.

“So, what’s the plan, Hunter?” Wrecker called out, finally giving Gonky a rest and placing him back on the ground.

Everyone gathered around a holomap Hunter had brought up. You felt Crosshair slide in next to you, his crossed arms grazing yours. Heat prickled your skin, the memory of the warmth of his fingers coming to life again, and you shifted slightly, drawing your arms closer to your body. You looked up at him but for once, his gaze wasn’t on you, but on the blue graphics in front of him. Your face burned. It was embarrassing how much of an effect he had on you, and even more so now after that moment in the medbay. He seemed to have completely forgotten about it, and here you were still having phantom feelings of the way his fingers wrapped around yours.

“We divide our squad,” Hunter begins. “Break off into pairs. The mineral we’ve been sent to recover is located across this entire sector, but according to Tech, not all of it will be viable.”

“There is a very narrow window in which the mineral is usable, and it will be difficult to find. But we will need to be cautious. The viable mineral is highly volatile when handled. And there’s an incoming storm headed this way, and due to the unique gravitational field on this planet, the storms here are quite lethal,” Tech tapped on his datapad.

You took a deep breath in. It appeared there was a lot that could go wrong.

Hunter nodded. “I can feel it. We’ll need to move fast, so let’s get going. Echo, you’re with me in the Badlands. Tech and Wrecker, you head west for the Valley. And that leaves Crosshair with N’edee up in the Mountains. Comm if you find any viable mineral and triangulate your position as best you can for reference before extracting as much as possible. Then head back to the Marauder where we’ll reconvene. Questions?”

Everyone shook their head. “The terrain is tough out there, so let’s try to avoid N’edee having to patch up any injuries,” Hunter added, sending you a smile. Everyone nodded before Hunter signalled everyone to move out.

N’edee was the little Mando’a nickname they’d appointed you. It meant ‘no bite’. After you’d first joined, you’d witnessed your first ever disagreement between Crosshair and Hunter and, not used to their scuffles yet, tried to mediate between them. They were so amused it stopped the argument and earned you the name – since you’d rather try to keep the peace instead of letting them fight it out.

Now, you knew better, but the name stuck. You wished you hated it, but Crosshair’s smirk as he called you it the first time was the first time he ever sort of smiled at you.

And the last.

The squad grabbed their gear, and you strapped your med pack to your back and holstered a blaster you barely ever used. You felt your whole body go into overdrive, not only because of the risk of the mission but also because you were paired off with Crosshair. The thought of being so close; just the two of you sent nerves running through you. If it was anyone else, you wouldn’t hesitate to ask what happened in the medbay, and try and sort it out and move forward, but you didn’t have that kind of closeness with Crosshair. There was no way you felt comfortable bringing up the way he held your hand – this was an important mission, and you didn’t want to risk ruining it by making Crosshair uncomfortable and clam up so tight you’d lose the modicum of trust you had.

Whenever intention he’d had, you weren’t destined to ever know what it was. So, you’d just have to take a page out of his book and pretend it never happened.

You made your way down the Marauder’s gangplank to find Crosshair waiting for you, helmet under his arm and holding the barrel of the sniper with his free hand as the hilt rested on the ground. He was the only one there, the others had already started their treks. You quickened your steps down as he looked over at you, heat blooming up your neck.

“Sorry,” you told him. Crosshair shook his head, either dismissing the apology or disappointed in your slowness to get ready – you couldn’t tell.

“Let’s go, the storm’s moving quickly,” he informed in that way of his. He placed his helmet on and started walking. You watched him walk away, not looking back at you as his long legs carried him quickly through the rocky ground in the direction of the mountain range.

“Try and keep up,” he called back, and you huffed, adjusting your med pack and jogging after him.

Crosshair kept a quick pace as you both walked, and his height didn’t help. The rhythmic beeping of the scanner Tech provided you with and your footsteps were the only sound between you both. You tried to keep up as best you could as you approached the base of the mountain range, but you were still lagging a couple of metres behind him.

You had been worried about the awkwardness a conversation about what happened in the medbay would bring, and yet you were not even close enough to have one.

You huffed, a light sheen of sweat covering your brow, as you stepped over a bunch of rocks, moving between them as best you could, looking down at your feet to ensure you didn’t fall. The weather was beginning to change, and you knew the storm was getting closer as the wind picked up and nearly knocked you off balance a few times. But you had still to find any viable mineral. You looked at the scanner and saw it was indeed picking up signs of the mineral, but none of it was suitable – either too old or too young a sample. You sighed. This was going to take longer than you thought, and you only hoped you had more luck once you reached the mountains, and that the storm would hold off.

“Watch your step,” Crosshair called back to you. You looked up to watch him as he stepped on a boulder and jumped down into what must’ve been a small ditch at the foot of the mountain range. You frowned and kept walking. As you got closer, you were surprised as you realised he was waiting for you. His helmet was trained on you as you reached the rock and you tried to pretend like it wasn’t a big deal to you. You stepped on top of the boulder, the wind whipping around you as his gaze tilted up at you. For once, you towered over him. You couldn’t help but smile playfully at him.

“So, this is what the world must look like for you,” you joked, trying to ease the tension that was still thick between you.

Crosshair let out a small scoff at your joke before holding out his hand. “Hurry up.”

You widened your eyes at his extended hand, your eyes flicking to it and then back to his visor. After the medbay, you hardly imagined he’d be offering a hand to you again in a clinical setting, let alone to help you descend a boulder. You looked at his outstretched hand, letting a moment pass as you waited for him to retract it, but he didn’t.

This gesture was intentional.

You slowly placed your hand in his. His hand was as warm and strong as it was several days ago, and the familiarity of it made your insides jolt as you felt it wrap around your palm. The nerve endings in your hand tingled in excitement as they ignited from his touch. Heat coiled its warmth through your whole body as you crouched down to a sitting position, doing your best not to topple over not only from the wind. He helped you slide off the edge down to where he was standing, his hand steadying you.

You wobbled on your feet slightly as you landed, and you looked up at him, wishing he wasn’t wearing his helmet right now so you could discern his steely gaze. Though you had a feeling his bare face still would not betray anything of what was going on in his head.

Was he acknowledging what happened? Or was he just being considerate of the terrain?

Before you could open your mouth with a ‘thank you’, he let go of your hand and started walking up a pathway that seemed to wind up the mountain.

You guessed it was not the former.

You took in a shaky breath, body tingling with the remnants of his touch as you felt its cold absence and started after him; scanner poised as you walked.

The pathway up the mountain was wide enough to walk on, but too narrow to walk side by side comfortably without worry of falling over the edge. So, you trailed behind Crosshair once again, who had now slowed down that the route had grown more precarious. You clenched your jaw as you followed his steps carefully, avoiding any loose rocks as you walked. You tried not to think about the increasing ascension of the mountain, the ground below getting smaller and smaller the higher you both trekked as you continued to scan the side of the mountain for any trace of a viable source of the mineral, but still, there was nothing.

The higher you moved the wind that whipped around both your bodies increased as the clouds rolled in. You had to move your hand alongside the mountain as you waked, too afraid you’d blow away as the gusts of wind threatened to knock you over.

You’d been walking for a few hours by now and with the weather getting worse, the constant pace was starting to wear on you; arms and legs sore and feet aching, face stinging. You looked out over the cliff and saw you were almost halfway up, and the sky was getting darker as the storm continued to draw closer. Every time you looked, it seemed to be moving towards you quicker, so as much as you wanted to stop and rest, you knew that you couldn’t – especially when you looked ahead at Crosshair and saw he didn’t seem to show any signs of exhaustion.

Though you knew clones had been engineered to withstand increased levels of physical exertion, you still felt inadequate not being able to keep up. Even after two months with the squad, you still weren’t used to the physicality of the missions. You weren’t initially trained as a field medic, but you still didn’t want to look like you couldn’t handle this simple mission – even if it was more gruelling than you anticipated. So, you gritted your teeth and kept walking, despite the way your body protested with each step.

Crosshair began to slow before he stopped and turned to look at you. “Picking up anything?”

You shook your head and hoped you didn’t sound as puffed out as you felt. “Nothing viable. Not even a false read.”

Crosshair grumbled. “Another wild bantha chase.”

You tried to sound upbeat, but you weren’t fooling anyone. “Maybe the others have had more luck?”

“Maybe,” Crosshair said, his helmeted face drifting from you to the sky. He removed his helmet and scowled as the storm drew closer and closer to your position on the mountain. It was close enough now that you began to see flashes of lightning strike within the clouds, and you jolted when a crack of thunder sounded like it was almost on top of you.

“The storm is too close,” he said, shaking his head in concern.

“I know. Should we head back to the Marauder?”

“There’s no time. We need a pickup,” Crosshair sighed and placed his helmet back on, pressing the side of his helmet. “Hunter, do you copy?”

You watched him, hand gripping the mountain as the wind grew stronger with each passing second. You were starting to feel spits of rain hit your skin as more thunder and lightning struck. Your body was shaking with exhaustion and all you wanted to do was lie down in a safe place and fall asleep.

“Wrecker? Do you copy? Tech? Echo? Hunter, are you there?” Crosshair spoke into his comm, his voice getting harder with every word. He let out a frustrated sigh.

“I can’t reach them. There’s too much atmospheric interference with the storm, maybe even the gravity too.”

You looked at him and tried not to sound panicked, but you knew your face betrayed you anyway. “What do we do?”

A crack of thunder sounded, and it was like the sky was splitting open. The mountain shook under your feet, and you fell to your knees, yelping. You felt Crosshair crouch next to you, a hand on your back to steady you. You looked up at him as the rain started to pelt down heavily on you both. You tried to shield your face, but the rain was so heavy it felt like knives cutting as it hit the skin of your face.

Crosshair hooked a hand under your arm and hauled you up. “We have to move.”

“We need to get off this mountain!” You shouted over the rain.

“We need to find shelter. Come on,” Crosshair skirted you in front of him and you both started to run up the path in the pouring rain. You held a hand against your brow to try and see, but the rain and wind intensified more than you thought possible, blurring your vision.

“Crosshair, I can’t—”

You slipped on a rock loosened by the wet ground. You cried out and fell forward, landing on your hands harshly. You felt your palms sting as you tried to get to your feet, but Crosshair slid his hands under your armpits and lifted you just as there was a flash of bright light, and the mountain shook again, this time more violently. It felt like the lightning had hit the mountain this time, and when you tried to look up to check, your worst fears were confirmed as the sound of rocks tumbling began to get louder over the heavy rain. Panic coursed through your veins.

“Go!” Crosshair yelled, hand steady on your arm as you both ran, him pulling you forward. You could feel rocks landing behind you and you tried to run faster, skin numb from the rain.

“There’s a cave up ahead! Hurry!” Crosshair shouted as he led you towards the mouth of the cave. Your thighs and calves burned, and Crosshair pulled you inside just as rocks fell and covered the entrance of the cave, trapping you both inside.

You fell to your knees, catching your breath as you looked around and realised how dark it was. You’re eyes hadn’t adjusted yet, so could barely see anything, but you heard Crosshair’s body hit the ground nearby as he sat down, grunting as he took his helmet off. His breath moved quickly too as you blinked and tried reaching out to see where he was.

“Crosshair?” you said, patting the hard ground next to you until you found his knee.

“I’m here,” he said, placing a hand over yours. You sucked in a breath as his fingers curled around yours. “You okay?” He asked, his voice raspy.

Your heartbeat which had only just started to slow, picked up again as he held your hand again. How many more times was this going to happen? Would you ever not freak out when he touched you now? Was that his intention?

You swallowed. “Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?”

You felt the muscles in his hand flex. “Yeah.”

You took in a shaky breath and let him hold your hand again, relishing in the feel of his fingers wrapped around yours for a moment, so warm and solid. The feel of his knee under your palm, a part of the body you had originally thought completely savoury until this very moment. After a moment too long of no sound except the roaring rain on the other side of the rock, you cleared your throat before you felt around you with your other hand. “I can’t see.”

“I can.”

You blushed profusely and hoped to the Force you didn’t look as bewildered as you felt. “Right. Of course.”

Crosshair slowly let go of your hand but made a point of keeping your empty palm on his knee, like he knew you needed to feel him close by.

The word intentional flashed in your mind.

Your stomach turned over at the gesture and you wiped your face with your other hand, shoulders beginning to shake. You heard Crosshair take off his pack and scramble through it, pulling out a small light that he usually placed on the end of his rifle. He clicked it on, and you shielded your eyes, before blinking your vision clear. Now you could see Crosshair’s face half illuminated, his brow was creased as he held out the light to you.

“Thanks,” you said, taking it from him. You pointed it around the cave and realised it was not so much a cave, but an oversized cavity in the side of the mountain. It wasn’t very deep, and it looked like its width was only a little bigger than Crosshair was tall. But it had saved your lives. You looked behind you, at the rocks that had fallen there.

“How are we going to get out of here?” you asked, running the light over the edge of the cave to see if there were any openings, but there were none substantial enough for you to try and get leverage to move the rocks that blocked you both in. Some rain fell through the cracks, the water landing on the rock as the storm carried on outside. That was good – at least you had some airflow.

“We need to wait for the storm to pass before we can see if comms will work to call the others,” Crosshair explained. “If we can’t contact them, we’ll have to wait for them to find us.”

The thought of being trapped in here for an undetermined amount of time made your heartbeat begin to race. “And if they can’t find us?”

“They will.” Crosshair’s conviction was comforting. You’d learnt that his belief in his brothers was unwavering, and never misplaced. If he believed that they would find them, then you did too.

You looked at him, careful not to shine the light in his sensitive eyes. His gaze was on you, and this might’ve been the first time you didn’t feel the need to avert your eyes. As intense as his gaze was, it was soft, and the brown of his eyes shined in the low light. Your hand was still on his knee and your eyes flicked down to it. You didn’t know if removing it would make it more awkward, or if leaving it there would. In the split-second moment, you were debating it in your head, with your body still shaking when Crosshair interrupted your thoughts.

“You’re shivering,” Crosshair said. “You need to get dry.”

You looked up at him and realised just how much you were shivering, now that the adrenaline had worn off. Your clothes were soaked through from the downpour, and the chill was sinking into your bones. You knew that if you didn’t get dry, you would get hypothermic.

You held out the light to Crosshair to take, which he did wordlessly. With shaky hands, you pulled your med pack off your back and placed it in front of you. Crosshair shined the light where you needed it as you searched through the items for a reflective blanket and when you found it, you pulled it out, the light bouncing off the shiny fabric. You looked at Crosshair, heat crawling up your neck.

“Um, I need to…”

Crosshair turned his head immediately but kept the light pointed in your direction. As quickly as you could, embarrassment flooding your trembling frame, you removed the layers of clothes you had on. You kept on the black GAR issue bodysuit you wore under all your clothes, even if it was slightly damp – you weren’t going to be completely bare with just a blanket between you and Crosshair. As you stripped everything off, you noticed the palms of your hands were grazed from the fall, and it hurt to move them as the skin stretched. You would deal with it once you weren’t shivering anymore, but the priority right now was to get warm.

Once you piled all your clothes together – there was no hope in everything drying whilst you were stuck in here, you pulled your knees to your chest and wrapped the reflective blanket around you tightly.

“Okay.” You said and Crosshair looked over and he squinted as the light bounced off the blanket, gaze searching your frame.

“What about your hands?”

“My hands?”

“You fell. I saw your palms are grazed.”

He was so perceptive, you wondered what else he saw that he never acknowledged. “I’ll patch them up after I stop shaking,” you told him, wrapping the blanket tighter.

Crosshair shook his head. “Aren’t you always telling us that injuries should be treated as soon as possible? Give me this—” he pulled the med pack in front of him and pointed the light inside.

“Crosshair—” You said as he dug around your pack, pulling out some antibac wipes and bacta patches. “You don’t have to. It’s not your job.”

Crosshair sent you a withering look before he placed the light between his teeth and gestured for you to show him your hands. You sighed and pulled your hands out of the blanket as best you could without it slipping off your shoulders. You turned your palms up, still slightly tremoring. They weren’t bleeding, but they were red and rubbed raw from the gravel you landed on. And they stung, but you were trying to be brave about it.

They were easily treatable, but your hands didn’t look pretty, that’s for sure.

Crosshair looked at them, adjusting the light in his mouth so they were completely illuminated before he shook his head with a frown, ripped open an antibac wipe, and cradled one of your hands in his.

 He met your eyes, a silent question in their gentle expression as his hand was poised, wipe ready to be drawn across your palms. You’d never seen him look at you like this before; this softly. It was so easy for your crush to bloom when he looked at you like this. You looked into his brown-eyed gaze, cheeks heated, and you nodded.

Crosshair gently placed the wipe on your palms, and you sucked in a breath as it stung the exposed skin. You felt the hand that cradled yours tighten and then he slowly began to clean the wound. With his attention on your hand, you could watch him unabashedly. The roles between you had now reversed. He was treating your hands as attentively as you treated his. The way he held your hand in his large palm was so gentle that your heart fluttered. You could feel the heat permeate from under his gloves into your skin, and you felt your hand slowly begin to still, the warmth returning to you with his touch. You were so touched at the way he was doing this for you, without you even asking. The way he insisted upon it. You hadn’t expected it after the medbay, and you ignored the little voice in the back of your head that asked what his intention was and simply savoured this moment of kindness from the man you were hopelessly crushing on.

He was as methodical as he was when cleaning his rifle, wiping the wound on one hand in even strokes that coated all the raw skin twice before he moved to the other hand, a new wipe this time.

You watched the way the light was poised between his teeth, and when his eyes flicked to yours for a moment, you averted your gaze back to your hands reflexively. You heard him breathe out through his nose harshly as he discarded the wipe and grabbed a bacta patch, pressing it between his palms to warm the liquid. You watched him, your eyes meeting his tattooed gaze once again as your hands remained suspended between you.

You thought back to the medbay, at how his fingers had curled around yours so naturally like it was instinctual; at the way he pulled his hands away so quickly and so forcefully it was like your hands had been burnt; at how fast he’d left you standing there, reeling from his actions. You tried to think of what his intention had been, and what you had done that had made him retreat.

“I’m sorry…for the other day.” Your voice was quiet in the small space. The storm continued to rage outside, but there was no way he hadn’t heard you. Crosshair looked at you, knowing exactly what it was you were referring to, and placed the bacta patches in one hand before removing the light from his mouth to talk, confusion etched into his brow.

“Why?”

You brought your lips between your teeth as your eyes flicked between his. “Because I upset you.”

Crosshair looked at you for a moment, an undiscernible expression passed over his half-shadowed face as your eyes stayed locked on each other. What you would give to know what he was thinking, what thoughts swirled in his head. Two months of watching him had barely scratched the surface – you wanted to know everything, to be privy to the innermost workings of his mind.

Crosshair was the first to break his gaze, shaking his head.

“You didn’t upset me.”

You frowned at him, but before you could ask him what he meant, he had placed the end of the light back between his teeth and started applying the bacta patches to your palms, activating the adhesive and smoothing them down over your hands with his thumbs. He held one of your hands in both of his, his fingertips touching the back of your hand as he ran his thumbs along the edges of the bacta patch. He pressed them gently down, and you could already feel the bacta doing its job. He did the same thing to the other side.

You watched him and you realised you’d never felt so cared for before. Never had you been held so gently, treated with such practised methodical hands that were also so soft and caring. Your heart swelled.

He took the light out of his mouth. “Bandages?”

You cleared your throat. “They’re in the side pocket.”

Crosshair took some out and started wrapping your hands up so the bacta patch would be more secure. He was so good at this. With the light dangling from his teeth, he circled the bandage around one hand, before he tied it off and tucked the end, and then the same on the other side.

When he was done, he dropped his hands from yours and removed the light from his teeth for the final time.

You looked at your hands. You couldn’t have treated them better if you had done it yourself. You hadn’t even had to coach him through what to do, and that impressed you. It only made the warmth in your chest grow, that hopeless crush in full bloom and only growing more hopeless by the minute.

“Thank you,” you told him and pulled your hands back underneath the blanket.

Crosshair hummed and then placed the light up on its base between you both and leaned it against the rocks behind you, so the beam of light shined upwards and illuminated where you at. You watched him then sit back against the rock, stretching his long legs out in front of him and closing his eyes, sighing. You sat facing him and brought the blanket around you tighter. You no longer shivered, but you still wanted to be warmer than you were. You stared at the side of his face, Crosshair’s profile half-lit in the light. You gazed at the brown of his skin, the sliver of his hair, the slope of his nose, the purse of his lips. You noted the stubble lining his angled jawline, and wondered what it would feel like against your lips. He was beautiful.

“Crosshair?”

He only hummed again in response.

You tightened your hold on the blanket as you worked up the courage to ask the question that was burning inside you. You couldn’t sit here anymore and not know.

“If I didn’t upset you…what happened?”

Crosshair opened his eyes, but he didn’t speak straight away. It was like he was searching for the right words, the best way to explain what had happened. You waited patiently for him to answer, your anxiety only building in anticipation.

Crosshair scraped the sole of his foot on the floor of the cavity as he brought one of his knees to his chest, resting his elbow on it. You swore you saw the tips of his ears turn pink, but you weren’t sure in this light. “I…crossed a boundary, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry for acting the way I did.”

You blinked at him, confused. That was the last thing you expected him to say, especially his apology. “Boundary? What boundary?”

“Does it matter?” Crosshair grumbled, his voice scratching.

“It does to me,” you told him gently.

He turned quiet again. He avoided your eyes, instead choosing to focus on a spot on his knee, frown etching deeper into his brow. You wished he would look at you. All those times you caught him watching you, now you willed him to meet your gaze. If he looked at you, you would be able to tell him with your eyes that he could trust you with whatever it was he was having a hard time verbalising. That you wouldn’t judge him the way you knew so many people did. That you saw him, how underneath all that surly exterior was a kind heart who’d been wounded too many times. But he pointedly didn’t look at you, and all you wished to say would remain your secret.

Crosshair sighed, breaking the silence. “You’re our medic, that’s more important.”

That only puzzled you more. “More important than what?”

Quiet descended again, and after several moments, you tentatively reached out and placed a bandaged hand on his shoulder pauldron. His eyes darted to you, wide like they were before in that medbay, and he shrugged you off, his voice hard and frustrated, and his cheeks tinted pink.

“Just forget it. It won’t happen again.”

You watched him, and the way his hands were clenched on his knees. The way he wasn’t looking at you anymore. You recalled the panic in his eyes that you saw in the medbay when he allowed himself the comfort of holding your hand, and how he’d had that same expression just before. You thought back to all the times you caught him looking at you, the way his eyes never left you – even when it was just the two of you during check-ups. The way he brushed up next to you when standing in mission briefings. The way he didn’t hesitate to touch you when he was helping you or keeping you safe – because it was easier to hide behind those gestures than the curling of his fingers around yours alone in the medbay.

Intentional. Intentional. Intentional.

Oh. Oh.

You felt your heartbeat increase as heat rushed through your body, your stomach flipping over at the realisation. You bit the insides of your mouth to stop yourself from smiling before taking a breath. It all made sense now.

Crosshair wasn’t upset at you, he was embarrassed. The man who was so careful about everything he said and did, had one moment where he allowed himself to do something on a whim, and it had made him vulnerable. The impulse had revealed a secret part of himself he had always intended to keep hidden, and now it was out there, and he was embarrassed about it.

He was embarrassed because he thought you didn’t feel the same.

What a fool. A beautiful stupid fool.

Nerves rattled through your body, but you couldn’t sit here any longer and not let him know how you felt too.  “Crosshair…” you said his name softly, barely above a whisper.

Crosshair didn’t move, his eyes stayed glued to the middle distance, his hands still clenched into fists. You let out a breath and held out your bandaged hands. At the movement in his periphery, his eyes slid towards your hands and then up to your face. You flexed your fingers, a silent signal to place his hands in yours. His mouth turned into a line and just when you thought he wouldn’t, he slowly placed one of his tight fists in your palms.

You cradled his hand, the back of it resting in your bandaged palm. As best you could with your other bandaged hand, you began to manually unfurl his fingers, spreading them out slowly against yours. He let you, his hand as pliable as it usually was when you did this – there was no apprehension in this moment, only trust. You began to slowly massage his hand, pressing and kneading the joints of his knuckles and the centre of his palm. Neither of you spoke, and the storm continued its fury on the other side of the rock, but it very well could’ve been a parsec away with how intimate this moment was. All you could focus on was him. You could feel him watching you, wondering what you were doing, but you didn’t let his intense gaze pull you away. Not anymore.

Once you reached the end of the massage, you slid your palm over his, fingers lined up. You moved your hand slowly like he was a baby tooka you had to coax into your lap, you were giving him time to pull away. You let your fingers fall between the gaps of his and then curled your fingers down, so you held his hand.

You felt him tense as he realised what was happening, and you looked at him, but his eyes were locked on your intertwined hands. You waited to see if he pulled away, but he didn’t. His hand stayed firmly in yours, his fingers still splayed out – but his palm stayed pressed into yours. You heard him take in a shaky breath as he finally looked at you.

His eyes had softened on the edges, but his shoulders were still tense, and he had an expression that looked like he was pleading with you; begging you not to play with him like this.

You wouldn’t dream of it.

“Is…is this the boundary?” you asked. You felt Crosshair shift, and his voice came out in a rasp and his ears were definitely pink in this dim light.

“Yes.”

You looked down at your intertwined hands and squeezed his gently. “And me being your medic is more important than this?”

His reply came a second and a half later, all strained and breathy. “Yes.”

You looked at him, his tattooed gaze boring into your face. Ever the perceptive one, you could see he was trying to figure out what you were doing, and why you were doing it. You offered him a smile as you gave him the answer.

“This…this isn’t a boundary for me. Me being your medic has never mattered when it comes to this with you, and never will.”

You watched his eyes widen minutely, and if you didn’t know his face so well, you wouldn’t have noticed anything. But other than that almost indiscernible change in expression, Crosshair remained unmoving, his shoulders still rigid and his fingers still splayed out, not touching the back of your hand.

You searched his face and suddenly felt like you had completely misjudged his actions. Maybe he didn’t have the same crush on you, you did him. Maybe he had just held your hand by mistake, that what you thought had all been intentional, wasn’t actually intentional at all.

Your face burned and embarrassment flooded your body. You started to pull your hand away from him.

“But if it’s a boundary for you—”

But Crosshair’s fingers came down before you could rip your hand away, and he held your hand to his tightly, stopping your palm from leaving his. His hold was secure, warm and purposeful. There was nothing to hide behind anymore.

“It’s not,” he told you, his voice as soft as you’d ever heard it. He looked at you, and he was more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. You felt your heartbeat flutter. You knew this was hard for him, vulnerability of any kind wasn’t Crosshair’s comfort zone. You smiled at him as reassuringly as you could.

“Good.”

You felt his shoulders drop as his whole body relaxed. Your heart almost burst when you saw the corner of his mouth turn up at you – a smile that was yours and yours alone. You smiled at him, that warmth in your chest glowing brightly, making you feel so at home, you almost didn’t mind you were trapped in this space. You were with Crosshair, and that was enough.

You both sat there, holding hands in the torchlight. It was such an innocent kind of intimacy, but for you both, it held so much. So many unspoken feelings now known through the feel of your palms against each other. You never wanted to let go, and you suspected he didn’t either. You felt his finger muscles flex and you squeezed his hand. He lifted his thumb and placed it on top of yours, stroking it gently in a ministration so comforting you could’ve sobbed. You smiled at him, and he returned it.

A genuine Crosshair smile was a rare gift so few received. He kept them, saving them for the people he trusted and loved. To get one now, to see the corners of his eyes crinkle and the smile lines in his cheeks stretch in a closed-mouth smile, you felt honoured. You never imagined you would ever see Crosshair smile at you like this, to let you close like this – to let you close at all. The dim light of the cave had revealed the disappearing ink of his feelings, and it was extraordinary. You would tell him the full extent of what you felt for him in time, but for now, your feelings were wordlessly exchanged with just you two for witnesses.

You watched as Crosshair tentatively and wordlessly brought the back of your hand to his lips. With his tattooed gaze on you the whole time, he placed a lingering kiss there. You inhaled sharply at the gesture and the skin tingled under the bandage where he kissed you. The rain outside was heavy, but your heart felt light – like if you weren’t trapped in this space, you float away and join those rocks in the sky. You watched him pull away, brushing his lips on the spot for a moment before he let your hands drop between you.

“Was that okay?” he asked, his husky voice asked softly.

You chuckled, a grin stretching across your face. “Yes. More than okay.”

Crosshair hummed, his eyes smiling. “Good.”

The mountain shook again, and you looked around you frantically as dust from the cavity began to fall on you both. Crosshair pulled you against him, arms going around you as he shielded you to his chest. You held onto the edge of his chest plate so tight it dug into your fingers, your face pressed into his chest as he held you tightly. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to focus on the mixed smell of soap and wood of Crosshair instead of the panic that coursed through you. When the tremor stopped, you looked up at him, and him at you.

“You okay?” he asked

“Yeah,” you lifted your head but didn’t dare untangle yourself from Crosshair’s arms.

Crosshair adjusted the blanket on your shoulders, pulling it tighter around you. “The longer this storm goes on, the more danger we’re in.”

“Should we try the comms again?”

Crosshair let go of you briefly to grab his helmet and put it on. “Hunter, come in. Tech? Wrecker? Echo? Do you read?”

You waited. Crosshair’s arm tightened on you, but he let out a frustrated sigh and pulled the helmet off roughly, setting it down next to him. “Still nothing.”

You let your head rest on his shoulder as you sighed. “What do we do?”

“Wait.”

You groaned. Crosshair chuckled and you felt his hand run up and down your back soothingly. It was a simple gesture, but one that conveyed how much he cared for you. A man of few words, he let his actions show his feelings for you. And you had no doubts about it.

After a minute, you lifted your head to find him looking down at you intensely. You felt his arms tighten on you as this hand travelled down to your waist and stayed there. You blinked up at him, drawing your eyes across his face before they landed on his lips.

They had been so soft when they touched the back of your hand, what would they feel like pressed against your own? You’d dreamt about it, but you had a feeling that it would be nothing to the reality of it.

“N’edee?” His voice was quiet, but you feel the weight on them in your stomach.

“Hmm?” you hummed innocently, but there was nothing innocent about what was running through your mind right now.

“Can I test another boundary?” His tone was hesitant, careful as he leaned in a little closer to you.

Your voice came out in a whisper. “Which one?”

“This one.”

Crosshair slowly closed the distance between you and pressed his lips to yours. It was like your whole body lit up inside, igniting you so completely you were aware of every nerve ending you had. Your fingers tightened on his armour just as Crosshair languidly pulled away after too brief a moment. You stared at him, dazed with your mouth parted slightly, and in need of more.

“Well?” he asked, his voice like silk.

You were breathless. “Not a boundary. Kiss me as much as you like.”

“If you insist,” he smirked and pressed his lips to yours again.

Kissing Crosshair was an all-consuming kind of feeling. That magnetic pull he already had on you only seemed to intensify the minute his lips descended on yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he hoisted you onto his lap, your thighs falling on either side of his as you straddled him, and the blanket slipped off your shoulders – not that you needed it anymore with the heat that thrummed through you.

You melted into the kiss, and you were right – your dreams of his lips were nothing compared to the real thing. You felt the tickle of his breath on your cheek as you arched yourself closer to him. With just your body suit on, you could feel every hard ridge of his armour against you. His arms moved across your back, and you could feel his fingertips searing along your shoulder blades. His hot mouth moved against yours and you allowed yourself to nip at his lips. You felt him flinch before his lips stretched into a smile against yours, a chuckle vibrating his chest.

“Guess you do have some bite, N’edee,” he mumbled against your lips.

“Just for you,” you breathed, and he groaned into your mouth, kissing you deeper.

He was just as starved for you as you were for him, and you wondered how long exactly he’d been feeling like this towards you, but you’d ask such questions later. His mouth was heavenly, his lips like a caress against yours. Your lips parted and he took the chance to deepen the kiss as you dragged your hands up into his buzzed hair, feeling the short strands against your fingernails. And you felt just how skilled he was his tongue as it slid against yours, and you silently thanked his toothpicks for giving him the practice.

You’d never been kissed with such passion before, with such intention. Now, he was no longer embarrassed, he did not hold back his kisses and touches. That knowledge made it all the more thrilling as Crosshair pressed you into him, pulling your hips against his with hands that you knew to be tender, but now held with you with such desire you felt dizzy.

He moved his lips down your jawline to just below your ear, and you panted as you tightened your arms around him, rocking into him. He sucked the skin there, his tongue darting out and wetting the area. It made you moan so loudly you were glad no one else could hear how desperate you sounded.

“Crosshair,” you moaned.

You felt him smirk against your skin before he made his way back to your lips. Groaning into your mouth again, you felt his hands move from your hips to your ass and back up again, and you felt your body go into overdrive, pulsing with a wanting need. Where did he learn to kiss like this? You wanted to thank whatever Kaminaon training module taught him, or the illicit holos you knew Tech had stashed on the locked-down data drive you found a week after you joined them – whichever it was.

You were so lost in his kisses, the way they grew in fervour with each press against your skin, you almost didn’t hear the beeping of Crosshair’s comm in his helmet.

“Crosshair,” you said when you finally heard it, pulling away, but his mouth just found your neck instead. You patted his shoulder. “Crosshair, the comm.”

“What?” he said raggedly. His lips ceased their attentions, and he pulled back. His lips were all swollen and you smiled at the knowledge that was all you. You stayed perched in his lap and he grabbed his helmet and put it on. You could hear the other voice when you were this close to him.

“Crosshair, come in.” It was Hunter.

“Copy, Hunter,” Crosshair said, and you mentally applauded him for not sounding as breathless as you would’ve.

“Are you and N’edee okay?”

Crosshair’s hand squeezed your thigh, and you squirmed on top of him, smiling. “For the moment. We’re trapped on the mountain. The storm caused a cave-in, and we can't get out.”

“We’ll lock in on your signal and fly to your location. Stand by.” You realised then the rain and thunder had stopped, and that the storm had now passed.

“Copy,” Crosshair said before he removed his helmet and placed it next to him again, and you both looked at each other. He gripped your hips. “They’re on their way in the Marauder. Wrecker will be able to push the rocks out of the way, and we’ll be free.”

You breathed in, relieved help was coming. “I didn’t even realise the storm had passed,”

“Well, we were busy,” Crosshair snided.

“Right,” you laughed lightly.

Crosshair looked away from you for the first time since everything changed between you, and his hands on your hips loosened. You frowned as you watched his once open expression, slowly begin to close off again in the dim light. He looked uncertain, all in his own head again and you realised that he was worried – worried that this moment together was but a brief interlude in which you got caught up in the danger of the situation. You wanted to shake his shoulders and tell him he was being absurd, how he could think such a thing after all you just said and did. But you didn’t, because like baby tooka, Crosshair needed gentle reassurance; that his vulnerability and his feelings were not being played with.

Later, when you had more time and were back on the Marauder and tucked away in the medbay just the two of you again, you would tell him just how much he had nestled his way into your heart. That your crush was much more than that, that you saw all of him, and though you were still learning to decipher the riddles he was made of, you never wanted to stop. That you saw all his intentions, and now yours was to hold his heart in your bandaged hands the way he held yours.

But for now, in your final moments alone with him before his brothers rescued you both, you locked your eyes on him and gently grabbed the hands that had slackened on your hips, linking your fingers together once more. You watched his eyes find yours, his brows slanted at the ends as he looked at you with all this apprehension. You brought his knuckles to your lips and kissed them, lips lingering there as you let the gesture convey wordlessly your intention to keep nurturing what was between you for as long as he let you. That this didn’t end once you were both bathed in sunlight again.

“I hope we’ll be busy again later? And many laters after that too?”

Crosshair’s shoulder relaxed and you smiled as the corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk, his eyes smiling as he squeezed your hands once more. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

banner art by @vimse thank you reading! if you made it this far, thank you! i appreciate it so much! this is the longest standalone fic i've ever written!

🏷️ @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @moodymisty @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @bobaprint @crosshairsnose @jesseeka @thegalaxys-edge @chopper-base @shredderwest @leavingkamino @r2d2staser @beckbucket @pb-jellybeans @mylifeisactuallyamess @padawancat97 @littlecrowtime @jedipoodoo @ezras-left-thumb @lovelycurls @fruitsaladtree @literallydontlook @burningfieldof-clover @queencousland101 @clonethirstingisreal @skellymom @hopelessromantic727

TAGLIST FORM

[webslinger-holland]

All Grown Up | Hunter from The Bad Batch

Summary: Many years after Tantiss and after having settled down in Pabu, Hunter struggles to watch his eldest to go off and join the rebellion. He returns home to the comfort of family awaiting him.

Warning: SPOILERS FROM SEASON 3 FINALE BELOW THE CUT, Omega refers to the reader as her mum (though not biological), mentions of old age, other children are briefly mentioned, slightly suggestive, and just good old fashioned tears

Pairing: Hunter x Fem!Reader

Type: Oneshot

Word Count: 1.8k

The gleam of the  silvery moon pierced through the dark blue skyline. The cool summer breeze swept through the entirety of the island, caressing wooden chimes hanging outside homes. The crickets were out singing songs to each other. The warm yellow light twinkled in the homes of many who where still awake during the late hours of the night.

With one last look of the island, Omega began making her way across the sandy beaches. She listened to the sound of the waves crashing gently against the shoreline; her shoes leaving prints behind in the sand. A few light breezes swept the loose strands of hair out of her face. She made her way into the lower caves of the island.

Coming up over the rocks, Omega's gaze landed on the spot in which her ship was docked. She neared one of the many generators in the cave, kneeling down and flicking the switch on. The warm light that radiated from the generator brightened her face and signaled the other generators to illuminate the rest of the cave.

A low bark sounded near one of the other generators. She lifted her head and smiled to herself, knowing that it was Batcher calling out to her. She briefly spotted another figure looming and sitting beside the old lurca hound, causing her heart to clench slightly in her chest.

Slowly, Omega made her way over to the both of them. The gangplank of her ship opened to reveal Gonky waiting for her. She rounded the side of the rocks, coming up behind the two.

"Thought you could just sneak off?" Hunter questioned as he stared off towards the entrance of the cave. The corners of his lips tugged into a gentle smile. "Time hasn't dulled all my senses," Hunter reminded her.

She lowered herself to sit down right beside him, watching him carefully with a hint of nervousness behind her eyes. She didn't say anything at first, but she had a feeling he was about to give her one of his famous talks. Sure enough, Omega was right about that.

"Your mother would have woken up worried sick about you, wondering where you’d gone off to this time," Hunter stated. His eyes focused on his hands that where clasped together.

"This shouldn't be a surprise. I talked with mum about this a lot," Omega defended herself.

Her words pained him slightly. In the more recent years, Omega had found herself seeking the advice of her mother more often than him. It had a lot to do with her age; having questions about womanhood that her mother was more than willing to explain. If Omega had gone to Hunter, the conversation would have just turned more awkward than anything. And sometimes, she was afraid to ask him in fear that he'd shoot her down pointblank.

It wasn't a surprise because he had heard some of their conversations late at night when the others had gone to bed. He recalled one conversation that happened just last week. She'd said something along the lines of: "Mum? What were the Clone Wars like?" Her mother proceeded to tell her what it was like to be a field medic during the height of the war. That, despite all the bad things, Y/n had found her purpose in life and wanted to help the war cause by tending to soldiers on the field.

Hunter just really wished she hadn't said that because they wouldn't be here now if she had.

"The Rebellion needs pilots now more than ever," Omega told him. She always had that drive to help others; she was so much like her mother in that way. "I made my choice, Hunter. I want to do more."

"And we want to keep you safe," Hunter countered. He finally turned to look at her. The worry was so evident behind those beaming eyes.

His strong sense of overprotectiveness was starting to show. It almost reminded her of what he used to be like when she was much younger: how he never wanted her to go on missions and how he'd force her to stay behind on the ship. She appreciated his concern, but it wasn't needed now.

"You have, but I'm not a kid anymore." Omega weakly smiled at him. She placed her hand on her chest. "You don't have to worry about me."

He wasn't satisfied with this, slowly turning away once again. He lowered his gaze to stare down at the ground. She continued to watch his movements carefully, wondering what he was thinking about in that moment.

"You're our kid, Omega. You always will be," Hunter said plainly. She smiled at this.

"You’ve got your own kids to worry about now," Omega chuckled slightly. She thought about her three siblings, figuring that they'd be fast sleep in their beds right about now and dreaming about things far beyond this galaxy.

"And you all make me feel like an old man," Hunter huffed with a playful smile.

"Well, you kinda are." Omega teased him by bumping into his shoulder.

When he turned his head towards the light, Omega was able to see just how much time had changed his appearance. His beard had grown out and his hair was sprinkled with grey. She saw the crows feet that bunched around his eyes when he smiled.

He was frail too. He wasn't able to play with his kids as much since last summer when he injured his back. He just moved a little slower now and wasn't able to do any heavy work around the house. He couldn't even remember how long it had been since they settled on Pabu all those years ago.

Pabu was home. Omega had grown up here. His other kids were born on the island. His family and his life was here. He wanted nothing more than to keep it that way. But Omega was moving onto newer things.

"Hunter," Omega sighed. She scooted a little closer to him and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You've all fought enough. This...is my fight. I'm ready."

Slowly, Omega rose to stand to her feet. He watched her move away from him with so much worry and concern in his eyes. He now realized that she wasn't his little girl anymore. She was all grown up and ready to have adventures of her own.

"Yeah. I know you are," Hunter sighed to himself. His lips curved into a soft smile. He shook his head slightly. "But I'm not."

Now, Hunter stood to his feet in a slow manner. His strength wasn't like it used to be. She didn't hesitate to step forward and embrace him in a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin against her shoulder. When they pulled away, Omega placed her hands on his shoulders. She sent him a warm encouraging smile.

"Say goodbye to the others for me," Omega requested. She didn't need to give names because he knew she was talking about her brothers, her siblings, and her mother. He gave a single nod of the head before gesturing towards her ship.

"Off you go," Hunter had finally let her go.

By the time Hunter had gotten home, he was little surprised to see one of the lights on from his view on the street. He climbed the steps of the porch, opening the door as quietly as possible so he didn't wake the kids. His gaze landed on the familiar figure sitting in one of the living room chairs. He closed the door behind him.

"Hey," Hunter called out softly. He took a few strides towards her, kneeling down beside the armchair. He gently grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it. "How come you're still awake?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Y/n scolded him slightly. There was a twinge of annoyance in the tone of her voice. "I wake up to an empty bed and a daughter missing."

"Ah, yes. About that..." Hunter's voice trailed off. He quickly avoided her gaze and wondered how he was going to break the news to his wife. But his silence gave it away.

"She's gone, isn't she?" Y/n said rather sorrowfully.

He nodded silently in response. He fought against the tears that gathered in the corners of his eyes, but the light from the lamp illuminated them perfectly. She went to cup his cheek and sent him a weak smile.

"It was bound to happen some day," Y/n tried to reason with him. She shook her head at the notion. "She couldn't stay your little girl forever."

"No," Hunter agreed. "She couldn't. She's all grown up now."

Ever so slowly, Hunter rose to his feet alongside her. He took her spot in the chair before gently guiding her down to sit in his lap. He went to drape her legs over his lap and have them hang over the side of the chair. She wrapped an arm around his neck and leaned down to rest her head against his shoulder. He cradled her gently in his grasp.

The two parent's gazes fell on the wall where each of their children's height had been marked over the years to show their growth. There were countless tallies and dates, including both of his brothers' and the lurca hound's. They studied each mark as a reminder of how much each of their kids had grown over the years.

But Hunter's sights were stuck on a rather faded mark on the wall. He remembered the day like it was only yesterday. He loved seeing how excited Omega was to have her height marked on the wall; how Omega tried to stand as tall as she could while he used a pencil to mark it. Then, seeing over the years, her tallies had grown until she was basically his height.

"They're all growing up so fast," Y/n said with a hint of sadness in her voice.

"Maybe it's our sign to have another one," Hunter joked. She sent him a warning glare so he pressed a little further. "Come on. The littlest ones about five years old now. We're due for another."

"I told you I am done having babies. We've had three; that's a good number," Y/n swiftly shut down the idea of having another little one. She could think of a million reasons why that wouldn't pan out great. "We're getting too old for this. And with your bad back..."

"I know. I know. You don't have to remind me," Hunter chuckled softly, just loving how flustered she had gotten while talking about having a kid again. He pressed a gentle kiss to her check to calm her nerves.

The two of them swayed slightly in the rocking chair, basking in each other's presence. Their eyes set on the wall. The house's memories over the years came flooding back to them. The children's laughter was an ever present sound that brought the purest form of joy.

Their eldest daughter was all grown up now and out of the house. They remembered every single memory they made with her over the course of the past couple years. She had drastically changed their lives, but all for the better. And they wouldn't change a single thing.

LITERALLY AM OBSESSED WITH THAT FINAL SCENE OF OMEGA AND HUNTER. HAD TO WRITE MY OWN VERSION AND I HOPE YOU LIKE IT.

[moonstrider9904]

Soup

Crosshair x Fem!Reader

Tags/warnings: Fluff. SFW, albeit with some mild suggestiveness here and there. Established relationship, some teasing. Mentions and descriptions of the common cold. So much Soft!Crosshair.

Word count: 1.4k

One shot masterlist | Main masterlist | Read on Ao3

You’d heard him shifting, tossing blankets, twisting, and turning throughout the night, and you giggled to yourself at the fact that he’d obviously tried not to wake you—and failed at it. You’d pretended to remain asleep so as to not worry him. You knew Crosshair was susceptible to feeling guilty over affecting you negatively in any way. Still, you knew something was up with him, and as you made pancakes for breakfast, you had already convinced yourself to act surprised when you saw an overly tired Crosshair emerging from your bedroom.

Nothing had prepared you, however, for the sight of Crosshair completely enveloped in a thick blanket with only his face peeking through the cloth, and you didn’t have to fake the shock that overwhelmed your sudden laughter. You looked away for a moment, diverting your gaze over to the pancakes as your laughter died down softly, but when you gazed at Crosshair again, you couldn’t help but erupt in laughter once more, now not only at the sight of him, but also at the fact that he was clearly annoyed.

“I don’t even know where to begin!” You kept giggling.

“How about, good freaking morning?” Crosshair crooned, his voice nasal and the sound of his m’s coming comically close to that of a B.

“Oh ho, sweetie,” you turned the stove off and you made your way over to him as he took a seat on the couch.

“Laugh it up,” Crosshair snarled, but his nasal voice and runny nose wouldn’t intimidate a mouse.

“Do you want padcakes?” You purposefully made your own voice nasal. “A good bordig is subbosed to have a good breakfast.”

His narrow eyes glared at you. “Ha ha.”

“Or would you prefer some chicke-d soup?” You grinned, still imitating his cold-infused way of talking.

In response, Crosshair laid across the entire sofa and faced the back of it, refusing to look at you. You chuckled at his grumpy-cat attitude and kneeled down beside the couch at the level of his head as he remained wrapped under the massive comforter.

“Okay, I’m done teasing,” you spoke normally, gently shaking his shoulder. “Will you look at me, please?”

“You’re really gonna make me move?” Crosshair crooned, immobile.

“I want to see your pretty face,” you smirked.

You heard Crosshair let out a big sigh, and he struggled under the comforter to shift his body, now facing you as he continued to lay on the couch. “I have half a mind to sneeze on you and bring you down with me.”

“I eat my fruits and veggies, you don’t scare me,” you raised a brow at him.

“Shut up and give me pancakes,” Crosshair moaned softly before he closed his eyes as though he’d fall asleep any minute.

“Don’t bite the hand that’s gonna nurse you back to health, sweetheart,” you leaned in and kissed him on the forehead.

Crosshair’s eyes opened for a moment at the contact of your lips on his skin, and the teasing went away from his eyes as he gazed up at you. Your lips retreated from his forehead, and you gazed upon him too—Crosshair didn’t fail to notice the glint of adoration in your eyes, sparkling as you looked down at him. Then, when you took your hand up to brush the backs of your fingers against his cheek, he inevitably leaned into your skin and his eyes closed again. You smiled softly at his reaction, and you took your hand up to his forehead before retrieving it and watching as his eyes opened expectantly, resenting the absence of your touch.

You chuckled. “Well, you don’t seem to have a fever.”

“Yipee,” Crosshair said monotonously.

“Oh, come on,” you said as you got up. “You have a tiny little cold, you’re gonna stay home all day on the couch in a cozy blanket watching movies, with your gorgeous girlfriend giving you pancakes and chicken soup all day.”

Crosshair chuckled. “You’re right, I can think of worse things.”

“And if you’re a good boy, I’ll rub some vaporub on your chest,” you winked.

Crosshair eyed you with a little gleam of mischief, smirking as seductively as he could manage in his current state. “Aye, here I am running with snot all over me, but you still want me, darlin’.”

You cackled. “Oh yeah, you’re irresistible, all wrapped up in a comforter.”

“You can put vaporub on me anywhere you want,” he kept smirking as he closed his eyes.

Laughter took over you again. “Gross.”

“You started it,” he hummed.

With a little giggle, you got up and made your way to the kitchen to finish what you’d started, putting in extra care to the pancakes and even sprinkled in a few chocolate chips, which Crosshair wouldn’t acknowledge out loud, but you knew he loved them. It was a perfectly slow day after that, with both of you spending almost the whole time in the living room together and cozying up to warm bowls of soup you improvised and nailed.

Each time you approached Crosshair for anything, you could see it in his eyes—the faint gleam and the fleeting softness that flashed through those brown irises, features glowing with a tender affection he didn’t need to put into words. He teased and he acted like an infuriated feline whenever he was sick, but close to nothing could measure the degree to which he appreciated and simply loved you. And each time you would feel him gazing upon you in such a way, you’d smile back at him, letting him know you felt the same way.

Crosshair insisted he’d spend the night on the couch—he didn’t want to increase your risks of catching his cold by sleeping next to you like he normally would, even if the idea of clinging to you in his sleep while you played with his gray locks seemed particularly appealing. You both went into the room to get his pillow and some blankets, and he spent a relatively peaceful night on the sofa while you lay dreamlessly on the bed, missing his warmth.

You’d spent the night shifting, tossing blankets, twisting, and turning, but at least you had no risk of waking Crosshair all the way to the sofa. That thought would comfort you during your sleepless hours, and after you finally managed to sleep and wake the next morning, your head ached, you felt your nose congested, and you wanted nothing more than to remain there the entire day. You sat up on the bed, groaning as you channeled all your inner exhaustion and irony—had you known you were going to get sick anyway, you never would have let Crosshair sleep on the sofa.

You got up and didn’t bother changing out of your pajamas. You walked into the living room to find Crosshair was already awake and sitting up on the couch sipping a cup of coffee with a movie in the background, its volume low. He still had a blanket around him, but he didn’t look as groggy as he had the day before. More than that, his handsome features instantly adopted a grin and a heartfelt laugh when he laid eyes on you standing at the edge of the living room in your pajamas, your hair messy as it could ever be, sneezing, and groaning in frustration.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Crosshair shamelessly teased you.

“You did this to me,” you frowned, and your features scrunched even more when Crosshair laughed at the way you were now pronouncing your m’s.

“Funny how the tables turn, darlin’,” Crosshair smirked.

“And I suppose you’re feeling better?” You raised a brow at him.

“Better than yesterday, but…” Crosshair looked around at the living room before looking back at you. “I could use another day of rest.”

You smiled at him. “Lucky.”

Crosshair gave a light chuckle and opened one of his arms, inviting you to sit next to him under the warmth of his blanket. You slouched your way over to him and took a seat, snuggling into his lean figure, and Crosshair wrapped his arm and the rest of the blanket around you, gently kissing the side of your head.

“You want some soup?” He asked you.

You nodded, snuggling deeper into Crosshair’s warmth.

“I’ll call Wrecker,” Crosshair said before planting another gentle kiss on your temple and reaching for his holopad, and as long as you were curled up to him, the day ahead of you could take whatever turns it wanted.

[hunnythebee]

Questions and Answers

You are a medic in Tipoca City on Kamino. You’ve been falling for the dark, brooding sniper of Clone force 99, but had assumed your feelings weren’t reciprocated. After a brief but heated moment, you can’t help but feel that your assumptions may have been wrong, but you have questions, and need answers.

@girlzrok-99 Here's your request from this ask! I was intending for it to be about 1k words but I got kinda carried away and fell in love with it. Instead this is now a one shot dedicated to you. Hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it.

Enjoy!

2.1k words - first person - gender neutral - teen+

Tags and Warnings: reader x Crosshair, gn!reader x Crosshair, medic!reader x Crosshair, light angst, fluff, brief vague descriptions of medical treatment, confession, first kiss, pining,

It had been an exhausting mission. The boys came back to me more beaten than usual. Wrecker collapsed the minute he got to one of the med-bay beds, followed closely by Hunter. Tech and Echo had some scrapes from debris but nothing major. Crosshair however, was untouched. A perk of being in the sniper’s position. I tended to those who were afflicted, moving methodically from bedside to bedside. The whole time I worked I could feel Cross’ eyes on me, following my every movement. I did my best to ignore him, but his stare was causing butterflies in my stomach and making my hands shake. I had been harboring a crush for him for the longest time, and him watching me like this wasn’t helping. I finished with Tech’s bandages and discharged him and Echo. I explained that Hunter and Wrecker were fine, aside from some cuts and bruises. The pair were just exhausted. Once they woke up they were free to leave as well. Finally I allowed myself to focus my attention on the brooding white haired man in the corner of the room who, despite his lack of injury, was still here.

“You’re also cleared to leave,” I stated bluntly, trying to mask my nerves. “Unless there’s something else you need?”

He pushed off from the wall he’d been leaning on and stalked over to me. He was so close I could smell him. A sweet musk, like smoke and dark chocolate, flooded my senses. This paired with the way he was looking down on me with those deep set golden eyes tugged at something inside me. Something that was yearning to be held by him. But I knew that wasn’t a reciprocated feeling. I took a few steps back, trying to give myself room to breathe and think. His toothpick shifted between his lips to rest at the corner of his mouth and finally he spoke.

“Would you say you know me and my brothers…well?” His question caught me a little off-guard. I looked from him to the two men resting in the beds and back.

“I’d like to think so. Why do you ask?” I couldn’t help the curiosity prickling at the back of my mind.

He hummed and took another two steps toward me, closing the distance once again. I attempted to take another step back but was met with a wall. He was so close I had to crane my neck to look up at him now. “And do you know all of our mutations?”

My throat was so dry. I needed to ignore the proximity of this beautiful man and focus my attention on answering his questions.

“Y–yes, I was briefed on your genetic modifications,” I responded, avoiding the word ‘mutation’. It didn’t suit him at all.

“Name them,” his tone was commanding, yet soft.

“Hunter has heightened senses. Tech is gifted with knowledge retention. Wrecker is double the size of an average clone. Echo was a reg, but required mechanical enhancements after his rescue. And you’re a sharpshooter, you never miss.” I answered, feeling a small sense of pride that I remembered all of them.

“Technically, you got them all right. But do you know what makes me a sharpshooter?” He asked.

“Ummm… no…” I deflated slightly. I didn’t know what the details of their modifications were, I just knew the basics. Crosshair smirked and leaned over me, resting a fist against the wall over me and tilting my chin so that our eyes were fixed on each other. “I see everything…” He was leaning in closer and closer, “I see you…” His lips were an inch from mine. I could feel his breath ghost across my lips. We were so close and then the door to the med-bay slid open as a pair of troopers came inside. Crosshair had removed himself from our precarious situation and was now leaning against a nearby counter. He gestured with his head towards the clones that were here for treatment and I reluctantly turned my attention to them.

My examination of them didn’t take more than 5 minutes, just a routine pre-deployment check-up. However, a steady flow of clones continued to trickle into the med-bay and I had been so preoccupied I hadn’t noticed that Cross had slipped out undetected. Once everyone was gone, I fell back into a chair and began to process what had been happening prior to the interruption. What he was going to do. Never in a million cycles did I ever imagine that he might actually return my feelings, but there was no denying that there had been a spark, a flicker of a flame between us as our lips almost met. I looked at the time on my datapad. I glanced at the time on my holo-watch. The numbers flashed bright blue over my wrist ‘00:00’. Kriff… it was probably too late to try to go and talk to him about it tonight. I sighed and heaved myself up out of the chair. I left AZI with instructions to allow Wrecker and Hunter to leave for the Barracks once they woke up and left to return to my quarters.

The halls were half-lit. A calming contrast to the usual blaring white light usually emanating throughout the immaculate hallways. I wasn’t anywhere near tired when I finally reached the door to my quarters. My mind was still stuck on that interaction with Crosshair. I thought about his scent as I showered off the day and got comfortable. I remembered his warmth as I opened the heated ration packet. I was lost in nothing but thoughts of him and how close his lips were to mine as I laid spread out on my bed. I rolled to one side and looked at the time on my holo-watch. ‘02:40’ flickered to life on my bedside table. If I had thought it too late before, it was definitely too late now. 

“I should just wait till tomorrow”, is what I was thinking as I sat up in bed and swung my legs over. “He’s probably asleep…” as I slid my feet into my slippers. “And he’s probably tired from the mission…” My front door hissed open. “He might be mad that I woke him…” My feet carried me at a hurried pace through the dimly lit halls of the Barracks. As I passed the large pod rooms I could hear the men snoring peacefully. This hour was one I hardly saw outside my room, and it was strangely serene to walk the hallways empty. Not a clone nor kaminoan in sight. It was also eerily quiet, aside from the wind whipping the glass panes that overlooked the ocean.

And then there I was. My two feet planted firmly in front of the door to the dorm belonging to the 99. He was inside, along with the answers to all my questions. All I had to do was knock, but knocking felt like an impossible task now. What if he was mad I woke him up? What if I didn’t like the answers he had for my questions? What if I had completely misread the situation with him earlier? What if– My thoughts were cut off when I lifted a hand and knocked three times on the metal door. The door slid open and revealed a rather shocked looking Crosshair. Once he had recovered from the initial shock he spoke.

“It’s three in the morning. What’re you doing here?” His voice was hushed and alert.

“We need to talk about earlier,” my voice shakes more than I would like but I just brushed that off. No turning back now. He looked down the hallway in either direction and then grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me inside his dorm.

“Come here,” his tone was soft yet commanding. I followed him inside and the door hissed shut behind me. I scanned around the round room for a moment. It was a standard dorm with five bed alcoves and a large table in the center. I noted the utter lack of others.

“W-where are Tech and Echo?” I stammered, feeling a familiar dryness creeping back into my throat.

Crosshair hadn’t been facing me as I had looked around the room. All I could make of him was his slender silhouette and the heavy rise and fall of his shoulders. 

“Tech went to check on Wrecker and Hunter, since they haven’t come back yet. And Echo is usually in the training center at this hour.” He explained, shoving his hands into the pockets of his blacks and turning to face me. The dim lights were highlighting his sharper features. His strong jaw and long nose. His deepset eyes reflected what little light the room was offering, giving him a wicked gleam.

“Oh… I see…” I felt my chest tighten as he stepped toward me. The corner of his mouth quirked up into a faint smile. I hadn’t moved from the spot at the door since he pulled me in here, and my back was essentially to the door.

“You said we needed to talk? So talk.” Crosshair answered, bending at the waist to look in my eyes. I swallowed hard, unable to break away from his gaze. I could feel the heat spreading across my cheeks.

“Earl-” the first attempt came out feeble and broken, I cleared my throat and tried again. “Earlier, in the med-bay… you had been watching me.”

Cross stood tall over me, his presence alone was intimidating, but I needed to know. 

“And then you said you ‘see’ me.” I continued to press on. He nodded, slowly rolling his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other with his tongue.

“A-and you got so close to me… why? What were you doing?” I finally managed.

Cross’ eyes flicked from my eyes to my mouth and back while he licked his lower lip. His hand pressed into the door above me and we were back in the same position as before. My heart hammered in my chest.

“I think you know,” Cross’ voice had a teasing lilt to it as he slid a hand along the side of my neck and gripped the base of my skull lightly while tilting my chin up to him with his thumb.

“If I knew for certain I wouldn’t need to be here,” I bit back with a tinge of sass.

“You wouldn’t?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

I sighed heavily into his mouth, inches from mine. “Just– I just–” 

“Yes?” His voice was so teasing, it was going to drive me insane.

“I want an answer goddamnit…” I managed to breathe out.

Crosshair’s lips crashed into mine with a fervor. It was deep and passionate, yet a sense of longing existed in the undercurrent. After a moment of us melting into one another he broke away.

“Is that an acceptable answer?” He smirked. I reached back up and pulled his lips back to mine, craving the taste that I had desired for so long. He smiled against my mouth and spoke with his lips still to mine, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Cross’ hand moved from the door to snake around my waist and pull me closer. It was a good thing too, because a moment later the door slid open and there stood a very surprised looking Wrecker and Tech, and their Sargeant with a smug look on his face. We had stopped kissing but Crosshair was still holding me tight. He dropped his forehead against mine.

“You three have impeccable timing, you know that right?” He grumbled.

Hunter responded, “You’re the one that chose to make out in our doorway.” He nudged his brother playfully as he walked past. 

“It’s about damn time!” Wrecker approached us and lifted us together in a tight bear hug. As he set us back down, Tech moved past to his workbench and fixed his goggles.

“Yes, yes. We are all thrilled for the new couple. Maybe now we can all have a little break from Crosshair going on and on about her.” Tech announced. Crosshair shot daggers with his eyes at Tech, which Tech wasn’t even remotely phased by. Cross grabbed me by the hand, interlacing his long fingers with mine and he tugged gently towards the door.

“C’mon, let’s find somewhere less crowded to finish our… conversation.” Crosshair left the room with me happily in tow.

Tech called after us, “I doubt you’ll be doing that much conversing!”

Crosshair shook his head and let out a soft chuckle, while my cheeks turned a bright red. This had been the best answer I could have hoped for.

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

hiiii!! absolutely love your crosshair stuff (i’ve been on a crosshair binge since season three started lol) anyways i was hoping you could write something that’s like post-omega and crosshair escaping tantiss and reuniting with hunter and wrecker (end ep 4) with the prompts

11. I promised to love you forever, and that is a promise I intend to keep.

and

16. No matter how much time we’ve spent apart, I never stopped loving you.

like i was thinking crosshair and the reader are married but canon happened so the reader stayed with the bad batch and this would be the first time her and crosshair are seeing each other again since the end of season one at kamino

no rush for any of this btw. thankssss

Hello, hi! Thank you so much for this request. I had something similar going through my mind after the episode aired so was excited to see this drop in!! I hope you enjoy 😊

Never Stopped

When Omega's cryptic message leads to a heartfelt reunion on Ryloth's nearest moon, you didn't expect her to be accompanied by the one man you never thought you'd get to see again.

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: spoilers for S3E04, we love a good reunion, inner turmoil, fluff, comfort, pet names.

“I had help.” Omega’s statement hangs in the air until the light sound of footsteps on metal reaches your ears, and you turn alongside Wrecker to watch as someone steps out of the stolen transport.

No. Not someone.

Him.

For a second, you forget how to breathe, unable to tear your eyes away from the man you never dared hope you’d see again. The last time you’d seen him had been after the fall of Kamino, on that blasted platform in the middle of the ocean. You’d pleaded with him to come with you - to leave the Empire’s clutches - but he’d declined. Your stubborn, infuriating husband.

Maker, you’d missed him.

Before you even know what you’re doing, you’re running, crossing the inky darkness between the two ships, closing the distance between you as Crosshair takes the final step down onto the planet’s surface. He doesn’t have time to protest before your arms are around his neck, hauling him into a crushing embrace. His brothers might be wary, but you aren’t.

Crosshair freezes, caught off guard by your affection. In the short time it had taken you to reach him, he’d braced himself for a slap or to be chewed out. This was…unexpected. You’re warm against him, the softness of your body so familiar, as is the scent of your shampoo. Tentatively, he slides his arms around you in return, pulling you close to suffocate all space between you both, soaking up the feeling of having you back in his arms. “Kitten...”

The whispered term of endearment is all it takes, and a heaving sob leaves you before you can stop it.

Everything since the order was given crashes down on you – the shots he’d fired as you scrambled to escape Kamino, how relentlessly he’d chased you across the galaxy, Kamino falling, the distress message he’d sent to your old comms channel…it had felt never-ending.

But it was over now. 

As you bury your face against his chest, the torrent of emotions overwhelms you. There’s a sense of catharsis, a release from the pent-up anguish that had threatened to suffocate you. The weight of his presence feels like a balm to your wounded soul, and with each sob that racks your body, it’s as if a burden is lifted, allowing you to finally exhale the turmoil that had gripped you for far too long.

He’s here. In one piece. Free from the Empire’s clutches, with Omega in tow.

Hunter and Wrecker’s tension eases slightly as they witness the reunion between you and Crosshair, but they’re not ready to let their guard down just yet. They exchange knowing glances before Hunter clears his throat. “We need to go.” He shouts across the distance, feeling guilty for breaking the moment but knowing that the Empire won’t be far behind.

You pull back slightly, hands still clutching desperately at Crosshair as he meets your gaze. He’s never been one to cry, but unshed tears line those sharp eyes you’ve missed so much. Silently, you swipe away your tears with one hand, the other finding his to guide him towards the Marauder. A blur of motion whips past you, and you startle, but with a click of his tongue, Crosshair stills the creature responsible, and a hound falls into step beside him as you lead him back towards the ship.

It feels too good to be true, too easy. The nervousness Crosshair had felt rolling through him as he’d forced himself down the steps of the transport returns. Fingers interlaced with yours, he can feel the skin-warmed metal of your ring. It’s still there after everything.

He feels nauseous as you cross the darkness towards the ship that had once been his home. He glances at Wrecker as you both pass him and the apprehension on his big brother’s face wavers for just a second before Crosshair looks away, unable to stand it.

Hunter has already ushered Omega inside, the young girl saying hello to Gonky, who beeps happily at her return. Crosshair lets you situate him in one of the back seats in the cockpit as Wrecker comes up the ramp, smacking the button to shut it as Hunter takes Tech’s seat and fires up the engines. 

Tech.

Crosshair swallows, bile rising in his throat. His twin is gone. Omega had brokenly told him what had happened during one of her many visits to his cell. Guilt curls through him - his brother had insisted on the mission to Eriadu and had been keen to find him, which ultimately led to his sacrifice.

Crosshair barely registers the ship setting off or the jump to hyperspace.

A soft squeeze of his hand draws his focus, and his head tilts to look across at you. Your wide eyes, which he adores, look at him with concern and something else he can’t quite put his finger on. Hunter and Wrecker are in the pilot and copilot seats, Omega curled in Hunter’s lap as they catch up while Wrecker pets Batcher.

You can practically see Crosshair’s discomfort, so you lead him out into the belly of the ship, closing the cockpit doors behind you to give the pair of you some privacy. “I thought I’d lost you.” You whisper, your voice barely above a breath as you sit side by side on one of the bunks, bodies tilted towards each other.

“Have to try harder than that.” Crosshair’s answer is quick, and the vice-like grip of dread that had encircled his heart slackens as he hears you laugh - it’s a short and sharp sound, nothing like the melodic giggles he’d grown accustomed to during the war, but it’s something. And Maker, does it feel good.

You’d almost forgotten what it was like to be on the receiving end of his quips, and for a moment, it’s like nothing has changed. But you spot something missing as you turn his hand over in yours. 

His wedding ring is gone.

“They took it from me.” He’s quick to reassure you, seeing the pained expression on your pretty face. He hadn’t even been able to fight to keep it, having woken up on Tantiss without it. The troopers had quickly silenced him whenever he’d asked about its whereabouts.

Silence settles between you both for a moment, your gaze fixed on this hand - on the vacant spot. “We’ll get you a new one,” you state quietly, lifting your eyes to finally meet his.

Crosshair’s brows furrow in disbelief at your words. After everything he’s done and the pain and betrayal, he can’t fathom why you still want to be married to him. Guilt and shame churn in his gut, threatening to overwhelm him. “Why?” he asks, his voice low and raspy, his gaze searching yours for some semblance of an answer.

You reach out and gently cup his cheek, your touch sending shivers down his spine. “I promised to love you forever, and that’s a promise I intend to keep,” you say simply, your eyes reflecting a depth of emotion that Crosshair can’t comprehend. “Despite everything, I still believe in us - in you. No matter how much time we’ve spent apart, I never stopped loving you.”

A lump forms in Crosshair’s throat as he struggles to process your words. He’d spent so long convincing himself that he was better off paying for his sins in that cell. But here you are, offering forgiveness and understanding. He searches your eyes for any sign of deceit or resentment but finds unwavering sincerity and love.

Crosshair reaches out, hand shaking as his fingers brush your cheek. “Maybe you’ve hit your head too many times, kitten.” Crosshair quips, a hint of his trademark sarcasm slipping through. Despite the gravity of the moment, he can’t resist teasing you. But deep down, he’s grateful for your forgiveness and unwavering love, even if he doesn’t understand it.

You roll your eyes at his remark, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Maybe you just need a few more hits to knock some sense into that thick skull of yours.” You retort, your tone teasing yet filled with affection.

As the playful banter lingers in the air, a moment of quiet settles between you both, the reality of the situation sinking in. Crosshair’s gaze softens, his hand lingering on your cheek as he soaks in your closeness. “I love you too.” He whispers, his voice barely audible above the hum of the ship’s engines. “I never stopped either.”

Your heart swells with relief and happiness, and with a soft smile, you press a gentle kiss to the back of his hand, feeling the slight tremble beneath your lips. “What happened, my heart?” You ask, your voice soft and concerned, brows drawn down as you watch how he shakes.

Crosshair hesitates for a moment. “They did…things. Some I remember. Some I don’t.” He answers vaguely.

You’re familiar with this game. He doesn’t want to think about it. Doesn’t want to talk about it. And while you know he'll need to one day, today’s not that day. Respecting his unspoken plea not to delve deeper into the horrors he endured, you gently squeeze his hand, offering him a reassuring smile. “We don’t have to talk about it now.” You murmur softly. “But we need to get you out of those awful clothes.” You change the subject, wrinkling your nose. “Handsome you may be, but this is not working.” You make a vague gesture at his outfit.

Crosshair chuckles softly at your remark, the memories chased away for the time being by your attempt to lighten the mood. “I’ll have you know; I make anything look good,” he retorts with a smirk. “But I suppose some fresh clothes wouldn’t hurt.”

You nod in agreement, grateful for the ease with which the two of you fall back into rhythm. “Exactly, and I’m sure I can find something more comfortable for you.” You reply, standing up and glancing around the small quarters of the ship.

As you start to pull crates out from the nearby storage racks, Crosshair watches you with a slight smile, admiring the familiar sight of you in motion. “You always know just how to take care of me,” he remarks, his voice low and warm, a tone saved just for you.

You shoot him a playful smile over your shoulder. “Someone has to.” You quip back, pulling out the crate you’d been looking for.

His kit crate. You still had his kit crate, with all your doodles on the outside – his name in Aurebesh, the squad’s symbol, a copy of his tattoo, and ever so slightly wonky hearts that he’d made a show of grumbling about but secretly loved.

Crosshair’s surprise is evident as he watches you retrieve a clean undersuit from the crate. He’d assumed its contents would be long gone - tossed aside, sold, or scrapped. The fact that you kept all his armour, along with his bucket, fills him with a strange mix of emotions. “Didn’t think you’d keep it,” Crosshair finally manages to say.

Before you can respond, footsteps interrupt the moment, drawing your attention towards the source. Hunter steps out from the cockpit – even with the door shut, he can still hear everything. His eyes meet Crosshair’s, and while he knows there’s a lot for them to talk about and work through, and he’s still not entirely sure he fully trusts his baby brother, he wants to offer him some reassurance. It’s the least he can do. “We were never going to get rid of it,” Hunter says, his voice firm yet gentle. “You’re still one of us.”

Crosshair finds himself at a loss for words. Emotions swirl within him, a tumultuous mix of gratitude and guilt. As Hunter’s words sink in, his gaze flickers back to you. Despite the doubts and fears that linger in his mind, one thing is certain: he’s home.

With a small smile, you offer the clean undersuit to your husband. “Here,” you say softly, your voice laced with affection. “Let’s get you changed.”

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[floofyroro]

To Be Held

Pairing: Crosshair/Reader

Words: 682 (fic vignette)

Tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, semi-established relationship

Summary: In a quiet moment together, you inquire about Crosshair's scar.

A/N: Many drabbles sit untouched in my notes app. I'm getting tired of staring at my longer WIPs and I think I just need to share something at this point. Please accept these crumbs and let me know if this resonates with you. 🙏 Part 2 is here.

Your touch is feather-light against his temple. He allows his head to lay limply across your lap and despite how intimate it feels, he can’t find any reason to care. Not when your fingertips trail back and forth from his cheeks to his neck. When they reach his shoulders, you press into him, making quick work of any lingering tension.

“What’s the story behind this scar?” 

He goes rigid and you must notice because you pause your minstrations as a result. 

“I’m sorry.”

A pause. 

“I… we don’t have to talk about—“

“Bracca,” he interrupts you, causing you to quiet. 

“It happened on the planet Bracca while I was still serving the Empire.”

His voice feels hoarse from disuse. When your touch resumes, albeit with more hesitance, so does he.

“I was… targeting my brothers and Omega. But I was facing an ion engine when it ignited. I... couldn’t get away in time.” 

The breeze picks up once more, the curtains billowing in the background. Crosshair welcomes the salt-licked sensation that’s brought in by the wind, finding that it contrasts nicely against the rise of his own internal body temperature. 

His body seems to remember the moment far too well. Crosshair has to tamp down against the rising fear, the rising anxiety that threatens to overtake him. He feels it all creeping over his shoulders but this time…

This time, your touch is already there to combat these ghosts. It takes your lithe fingers, your dexterous thumbs to press into him and he finds that maybe he can move on from these moments, these ghosts. 

If only while by your side.

While you remain silent, he reassesses.  Perhaps with time, you’ll come to find that he isn’t worth the commitment, that his baggage is too daunting to carry. With each layer that he bares before you, he finds that his confidence in being vulnerable is challenged. Will continue to be challenged. He wonders that with time, it’ll ease.

You sigh. 

He waits, anticipating a form of rejection. He wonders if looking up into your eyes would reveal a look of disgust.

You don't give him much time to ponder further.

Your hair trickles against his nose before he registers that you’re leaning down to cradle his head to your chest. Soft hands support him, and the sound of your heartbeat thrums against his cheek, his temple. 

It’s a rather nice sound. 

“You have been through so much.” 

It takes him a moment too long to parse the meaning of your words. These aren’t words that should be directed towards him. No, not with the mountain of sin weighing heavily on his shoulders. 

Instead of accepting them, he focuses on your heartbeat, the sound a balm for these thoughts.

It’s a soft, lulling thing.

But your caress against his temple, his scar, is what brings him back to you. 

He doesn’t know what to say to that. He… 

His chest tightens because yes. He can admit that he has gone through enough. An arm snakes around you in his own attempt to return the embrace, the action surprising yet natural. 

You tighten your hold on him in response. 

“I’m sorry, Crosshair. But I’m so glad you’re here now,” and he opens his eyes to find that his gaze is clouded, his cheeks dampening as he tries to inhale steadily, “here, where you’re safe. Here, with me.”

There’s a crack in your voice and it causes his heart to stutter. He isn’t used to this. This.. feels too good to be true. Is he dreaming? The rational side of him berates such a thought because obviously he’s awake and he’s here, with you, with kind words directed towards him, their meaning a nectar which he feels drawn to, finding that he’s ravenous for more.

Instead of speaking, he uses his palm on your back to pull you closer, the pressure of your chest against him welcome and grounding. Without a second thought, his fingers brush against your spine, your shirt catching against the callouses on his hands.

He’s never been good with words anyway. 

Part 2 is here.

[jetii]

Lessons of the Heart

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!Reader / Crosshair x Teacher!Reader

Words: 15,738

Tags/Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, strangers to lovers, soft!Crosshair, grumpy/sunshine dynamic, awkward flirting, mutual pining, kissing/making out, Crosshair's anxiety, reader has long-ish hair, Tech mentioned briefly

Summary: Over a year after settling on Pabu, Crosshair is still struggling to adapt to life without having something to fight, or fight for. When Omega comes home with a bad grade, he jumps at the chance to help. He doesn't expect to become so invested, and he certainly doesn't expect to fall for his sister's teacher.

A/N: This one got away from me! But since the poll indicated I should keep this all one part, here you go. I really enjoyed writing Crosshair's perspective and all the little sibling moments in here.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

"Again, Omega? We talked about this."

Crosshair stops dead in his tracks, one boot in front of the other, and stares straight ahead. The basket of dirty clothes in his grip hangs limp by his side as he stands in the hallway, listening. Hunter and Omega are in the kitchen, the latter having just gotten back from another day at school, and they’re clearly talking about something serious.

Crosshair doesn't dare to breathe too loud in case he misses a single word. It's hard not to notice how Hunter's voice drops low when he speaks, trying not to be overheard by someone. By someone like Crosshair.

"I know, Hunter," she groans. He can hear the sound of something hit the counter, likely a datapad, and Omega shifts on her stool. "I tried on this one, I promise."

Hunter hums in a tone that makes it clear he's not quite believing her, and Crosshair's eyebrows raise a little in curiosity.

"Let me see, please."

"Hunter—"

"Omega."

She huffs, but a few seconds later, the datapad slides across the counter with a quiet squeak, and Omega's chair scrapes across the floor as she sits back down. "There. Happy?"

"Thank you." There's a pause, and Crosshair can only imagine the face Hunter is making as he reads whatever it is that Omega is showing him. His voice is stern, a tone that Crosshair's come to know as the sergeant, not the brother. "What is this?"

"I told you," she whines.

"She gave you a 50%?" Hunter's voice raises slightly. "Why would she do that?"

Omega scoffs. She's getting better at that. It almost sounds natural now.

Crosshair peeks around the corner, and sure enough, Hunter has the datapad in his hands, reading over whatever report the teacher sent back. Omega sits next to him, her shoulders slumped, arms crossed, and she's not meeting his gaze. Her backpack sits unzipped, its contents strewn out across the countertop and the stool where she usually sits.

He knows he shouldn't eavesdrop, but he's been doing it for so long he's not sure how to stop. And besides, the look on Hunter's face is one he doesn't like.

They'd all known going into this that Omega wasn't going to have an easy time at school. She excelled far beyond her peers in most subjects — math, history, science, languages, you name it — but there were two subjects where her intelligence failed her. Art, for one, because it was hard to grasp the concept of drawing something when she had no frame of reference. And then, of course, there was literature.

It's not her fault, and Hunter's well aware of it. Her education prior to the Batch adopting her was entirely focused on being the best lab assistant a Kaminoan could ever want. Over time, she soaked up anything they would teach her. Strategy, engineering, politics, even some basic medical training — Omega could do it all. But, as it turned out, there was a pretty big part of her education that she was severely lacking in, and it was starting to show.

Out of the three brothers, Crosshair was the only one who actually made a habit out of reading, though he'd never admit it to anyone. So he tried his best to teach Omega the concepts that her teacher was trying to instill in her, but sometimes it was difficult.

Literature was, by nature, subjective. It's always up for debate, and Crosshair found himself constantly questioning himself while helping Omega with her assignments. It usually ended with both of them frustrated, and Hunter or Wrecker stepping in to mediate the situation.

But still, Omega loved her classes, even if they were difficult. And Crosshair would never say it out loud, but he enjoyed spending time with her and helping her learn, even if it wasn't always the easiest.

It seemed, though, that her teacher didn't agree with his methods.

Hunter looks up from the datapad and places it on the counter. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and reaches across to pat Omega's shoulder. "It's okay. We can work with this."

She shrugs him off and hops down from the stool, gathering her things and stuffing them into her bag. When she tries to reach for the datapad, Hunter snatches it up and holds it out of her reach.

"Give it to me, Hunter."

"No. We're going to talk about this, Omega."

"There's nothing to talk about," she mutters, trying again and failing to grab the datapad.

Crosshair takes that as his cue. He steps into the kitchen and drops the basket of laundry onto the ground by his feet, the force of the landing enough to get their attention.

"Oh, good," Hunter says, looking at Crosshair. "You're home."

"Yep." Crosshair pops the 'p' and folds his arms, leaning back against the wall. He meets Omega's eyes for a moment, and the look on her face is like a punch to the gut. She looks defeated, and it's not a look that suits her.

He hates seeing her upset, especially over something so trivial. It's a report, and not even a very important one. It's not like her grades in the other classes were suffering. She was passing every single one of them with flying colors. It's just this one assignment, this one class, this one teacher who seems hellbent on making her feel bad about herself.

Crosshair can feel the rage bubbling under the surface. How dare her teacher give her a score that low, and why? Because of his help? That was his job, and he was doing it.

"What's going on?" Crosshair asks. He's still staring at Omega, trying to get her to look up at him, to meet his gaze, but she's not taking the bait. She's got her arms folded, her shoulders tense, and her lower lip juts out as she pouts at Hunter.

"I told her we'd talk about it, and she doesn't want to." Hunter sets the datapad back down, sliding it across the counter.

Crosshair picks it up, glancing at the words on the screen before scrolling through the report. It's an analysis, one he's read a million times. He doesn't bother skimming it, because he already knows exactly what she wrote. It's a decent summary of the text, and her thoughts and opinions are written plainly and with an obvious understanding of what the author meant. It's not her fault her teacher wanted her to interpret the text the way a typical thirteen-year-old might, but that wasn't who Omega was.

He glances back up at Hunter. "And what is there to talk about?"

"Well, her teacher doesn't seem to agree with her analysis," Hunter says. He nods at the datapad in Crosshair's hand. "The comments."

Crosshair finds the section in question and reads over the notes. It's a lot of the same, just worded a bit differently, but one comment sticks out among the rest.

Please try to stick to the original meaning of the text, Omega. You did well explaining how your interpretation differed from the traditional meaning, but try to focus on the actual story. 

It's the most condescending, ridiculous thing Crosshair has ever read, and he has to keep himself from throwing the datapad at the wall. He has to remind himself that doing that would only make Omega feel worse, and he doesn't want to upset her.

Instead, he takes a deep breath and hands the datapad back to her.

"This is stupid," he says, and he can see Hunter's eye twitch at his choice of words. "I read the text. I know what it means, and you know what it means. What, are you supposed to go through the entire thing and find the most cliche, obvious way of reading it?"

"No," Omega mumbles.

"Right," he agrees. "So then why is she giving you a low grade for your own thoughts and opinions?"

Omega shrugs. She's frowning, staring down at the datapad like it personally offended her.

And Crosshair knows that feeling, intimately. It's the same way he'd stare at the training room floor whenever a drill sergeant would call him a failure. It grates on his nerves, and he's half-tempted to find the teacher's home address and tell her just how wrong she is.

"But I'm doing it wrong," Omega says, her voice small and defeated.

Hunter is glaring at him now, but Crosshair can't find it in him to care.

"No, you're not," Crosshair insists, and he takes a seat beside her at the counter. "You did your research. You did everything you were supposed to, and you wrote a report about what you think it meant. What's wrong with that?"

Omega shrugs again, and he can see her hands balling up into fists.

The sight alone is enough to set him on edge. His entire body feels like a coiled spring, his muscles tense and ready to go. He hates seeing her like this. She's a bright kid, always smiling and happy, and to see her so down on herself makes him feel ill, and the last thing he wants is for her to think she's failed somehow.

Crosshair doesn't know why the teacher doesn't understand that, doesn't appreciate how amazing it is that a girl her age is even capable of writing a paper like this. Maybe, somewhere deep down, the teacher does get it. Maybe she's just pushing her own agenda. It wouldn't surprise Crosshair in the slightest, and the more he thinks about it, the more annoyed he gets.

"Maybe I should comm her," Hunter says, interrupting his train of thought.

Crosshair snaps his head around, glaring daggers at his brother. "No."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't comm her." He pushes himself away from the counter and stands. "I'll handle this."

Hunter stares at him, one eyebrow raised, clearly confused. "Handle it?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna talk to her."

"Cross," Hunter says, but he doesn't finish his sentence.

Crosshair doesn't stick around long enough to hear the end of it. He's already halfway out the door, pulling his jacket off the hook, and slamming the door shut behind him.

Crosshair is pissed.

He doesn't often get angry. Annoyed, frustrated, irritated, yes. All those are familiar. But angry? Angry is not something he deals with. He can't stand it, the way his chest feels like it's about to explode, the way his heart rate picks up and his stomach feels sick. Anger makes him feel out of control, and the last thing he wants is to lose the little self-control he does have.

But now?

Now, he's angry.

Omega doesn't deserve to be treated like this. She doesn't deserve the way her teacher is talking to her, telling her she's doing something wrong when she isn't. If anything, the teacher should be grateful that Omega is even bothering to read the texts in the first place, that she's putting in the effort to analyze the meanings behind them.

He's so caught up in his own thoughts, he barely realizes how far he's gone. It's only when he spots the school, the tall building looming in the distance, does he realize he's halfway across town, and the sun is starting to dip below the horizon.

He slows his pace, taking a moment to catch his breath, and glances around. He's only been here a few times, just long enough to drop Omega off at the start of the day or pick her up after. He's never actually been inside, never even met a single one of her teachers, and he has no idea where her classroom even is.

A sign points him towards the front entrance, and he follows it. There's a handful of other parents waiting around the main entrance, all of them talking and laughing and joking with one another. A few of them glance his way, watching him curiously as he approaches the doors.

He ignores them, slipping inside and letting the doors close behind him. The hallways are quiet, and the sound of his boots against the tile echoes throughout the empty halls. He's not entirely sure where he's going, but he figures it can't be that hard to find her classroom.

It isn't.

It takes him less than a minute to locate her name, next to a door decorated with bright colors and images of what he assumes are the characters from a few of the stories they've read. He doesn't stop to admire the decorations, though. He doesn't stop at all, really. He pushes the door open and walks right inside, his eyes scanning the room.

The rows of chairs and desks are empty, but the one near the holoboard at the front of the room is occupied. There's a human woman sitting there, head bowed over a desk as she writes, and Crosshair strides up to her without hesitation.

"I want to talk about the report you gave Omega," he says, his voice tight, barely able to contain his anger. The woman looks up, clearly startled, and blinks owlishly at him.

The anger coursing through his veins suddenly tempers as he locks eyes with you, and he finds himself at a loss for words.

You're not what he was expecting, not in the slightest. He'd expected someone older, a woman with graying hair and crow's feet, maybe, one who's lived enough years to become old and jaded. Not this. Not you.

Your eyes are wide and bright, and the expression on your face is nothing short of adorable. He's not sure where that word came from, thrust to the forefront of his consciousness with the force of a speeder, but he can't deny that it's accurate. Your hair is tied up in a messy bun, a few loose strands hanging over your face, and there's a small, pink stylus stuck behind your ear. Your lips are slightly parted, a pretty shade of pink that almost matches the color of the pen, and he watches as they slowly form into a small 'o' as you process what's going on.

And then, just as quickly, your expression changes.

The adorableness falls away, and you straighten your posture, your brows furrowing and your lips pulling into a tight line.

"You must be Crosshair."

He frowns. "How did you—"

"She talks about you." You nod, glancing him up and down, and Crosshair has to fight the urge to shrink under your scrutiny. His mouth feels dry, and the sudden change in tone catches him off-guard. He was expecting defensiveness, maybe a little bit of anger. Instead, you sound...

Well, he can't really place it.

Crosshair nods, and he can feel his cheeks heat up. It's probably because he's angry. It has nothing to do with the way you're looking at him, the way your eyes rake over him, or the way your lips are curled up ever so slightly in a hint of a smile.

You clear your throat and gesture to the seat in front of you. He settles in it, not because you told him to, but because it seems like the polite thing to do. And because he wants to sit down.

Once he's seated, you fold your hands and place them on the desk, giving him your full attention. "I'm glad you're here."

That throws him. "You are?"

"Of course," you say, and the smile on your face is nothing short of dazzling. "I've been hoping to meet you for a while now. Omega speaks so highly of you, and I have to say, I was looking forward to finally meeting the man who's been helping her with her assignments."

And then, you do something Crosshair wasn't expecting. You extend your hand, offering a handshake.

He looks down at your hand, your fingers spread out, palm facing up. Your nails are painted a bright shade of pink, and there's a small smear of what looks like ink near the tip of your index finger. He glances up at your face, and you're smiling at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling a bit as you do.

His stomach does a weird flip, and his chest suddenly feels a lot warmer. He doesn't know what it is about your smile, your eyes, your voice, but it's...nice.

You're nice.

He doesn't take your hand.

You pull it away, but the smile doesn't leave your face. You don't seem offended or hurt, and you're still looking at him with an expression that can only be described as genuine kindness.

Crosshair swallows the lump in his throat. It's getting harder to stay angry, but he does his best to cling to his resolve. 

"You graded her report wrong,” he hisses.

He expects you to get defensive, maybe even offended. After all, no one likes having their work challenged. But instead, you just sigh.

You look down at your desk, grabbing the stylus and twirling it between your fingers. The light reflects off the smooth surface, glinting off the tip of the tool, and the movement is almost hypnotic. He has to force himself to look away, to focus on your face.

For the first time since he barged into your classroom, he notices the tiredness in your eyes. It's subtle, and he doesn't think anyone else would notice, but the way your shoulders sag is a dead giveaway. You look exhausted, and Crosshair suddenly feels an odd pang of guilty for dropping in on you like this.

Your smile is tight when you look up at him again..

"I can explain my rationale, if you'd like," you say, and it's not a question. It's a statement.

He's not sure if he should be annoyed by that or not, but he nods regardless.

"Thank you." 

You reach for a datapad laying haphazardly across your desk and tap away for a moment, before you hold it out for him to take. His fingers brush yours as he accepts it, and the touch sends a tingle up his arm. He tries not to show it, though, and busies himself by looking over the file as you speak.

"I know Omega has been struggling in my class, and I've done everything I can to make sure she has the support she needs. But, unfortunately, there's not a lot I can do when the curriculum is so..."

You pause, and he raises an eyebrow. "So what?"

"Well, it's not exactly tailored for her," you finish, and the small laugh you let out is strained. You shrug, a gesture that's supposed to be nonchalant, but he can see the tension in your shoulders.

He hums, nodding along as you continue to talk.

"I don't usually get students like Omega, you know? Kids who've already seen the world and have lived through so much more than their peers. And that's great, I mean, it's awesome. She's a brilliant kid, and she has such a great sense of herself, but I'm not equipped to handle a student like her."

Crosshair stops scrolling, his thumb hovering over the screen. He looks up at you, and you're staring back, chewing on your bottom lip.

He swallows the lump in his throat and nods. "So, what does that mean?"

"It means..." You trail off, letting out a sigh and shaking your head. You look away, turning to stare out the window behind you. The sun is setting, and the last rays of the day are reflecting off the buildings in the distance, bathing the room in an orange glow.

He watches the way the light illuminates your face, highlighting the curves and lines. It's not the first time he's found himself admiring the way someone looks, but it's the first time it's left him feeling like his heart's about to burst out of his chest.

It's not until you turn back to face him, the light fading, does he realize he's been holding his breath.

"I'm sorry, what was I saying?" you ask, and he's not sure if it's the lighting or his imagination, but he swears there's a faint flush creeping up your neck and cheeks.

"You were talking about the report," he says, his voice a little softer than usual.

You blink. "Oh, right. Of course." You clear your throat, sitting up a little straighter, and Crosshair has to remind himself not to lean in. "I graded the report based on how she did against the curriculum."

"Which is stupid."

"Yeah, I know." You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and Crosshair tracks the movement. "But it's how it works, unfortunately. We have a certain set of standards we have to abide by, and unfortunately, Omega's interpretation of the story was outside those standards."

"So? Her analysis is solid, and you know it," he says.

"It is," you agree, and the corner of your mouth twitches up into a half-smile. Your eyes are soft and full of understanding, and Crosshair has to look away.

"Her argument was well-researched, and her points were valid," you say, and it's with an apologetic tone. "But she also failed to follow directions."

Crosshair blinks.

That's not right.

"What?"

"She was asked to write a report on her thoughts and opinions on a classic work, and her interpretation of the story was excellent, but..."

"But what?" He knows he's being defensive, and he's not sure why, but the thought of you grading her unfairly, giving her a low score because of something that was his fault, makes his blood boil.

He takes a deep breath and leans back in his chair, folding his arms and forcing himself to relax.

You don't seem bothered by his attitude, though. In fact, you just smile at him.

"Well, she did a wonderful job of explaining her interpretation, but she failed to stick to the author's original meaning," you explain. "And while I understand why she was interpreting the text the way she was, and I'm happy she's able to do that, she was asked to write a paper specifically about the author's intended meaning."

Crosshair doesn't respond. He stares at you, his lips pressed together, trying his hardest to stay calm.

He has to admit, it makes sense. You're just doing your job, and the fact that you're even taking the time to explain it to him is a testament to how hard you're trying. But that doesn't make the situation any easier, and the disappointment in Omega’s voice when she'd shown him her report earlier that day is still fresh in his mind.

"It doesn't change the fact that she's brilliant," you say, interrupting his train of thought.

He snaps his head up, staring at you, and the expression on your face is almost...tender. You're not just saying it to placate him, or to try and get him to leave. No, you mean it. He didn't realize just how much you cared about his sister, and he's taken aback by how sincere you are.

"Omega is an incredibly intelligent young woman, and I am in awe of her every day." You lean forward, your elbows resting on the desk. You're smiling, but there's a hint of sadness in your eyes, and the way you speak, the words that spill out of your mouth, are genuine. "I can't begin to imagine the things she's been through, and I know that's not an excuse for how difficult I've been, but I'm sorry. I really am."

The anger he'd been holding onto melts away, replaced by a strange mixture of pride and confusion. He's proud that you care so much about Omega, and confused by how much it seems to affect him. He'd expected you to be stubborn, maybe even rude. But this? This isn't anything like the image he'd conjured up in his mind.

It's...

Nice.

"So, what now?" he asks.

"Well," you start, and the smile on your face turns mischievous, "you're welcome to challenge my grade. You can go to the school board, or we can go to the principal's office. You could even submit a formal complaint, or—"

"No," he interrupts, and his cheeks flush when he realizes how fast the word came out. He clears his throat, trying to compose himself, and says, "I meant, what do we do? To help her?"

"Oh." You blink, clearly surprised.

He's not sure why. Does he come off as the type of person who would file a formal complaint over a grade?

Probably, actually.

"Right," you say, and you take a moment to collect your thoughts. "Well, there's not a lot we can do. This was her last chance to make up for her last test score, and I'm afraid she'll have to repeat the class next year."

"There has to be something you can do," he insists. The words fall out of his mouth before his brain catches up, and he's already cringing internally at how desperate he sounds.

"Look," you sigh. "You're not the first parent to come in here at the end of the semester and ask me to raise a grade. But, if I raised Omega's grade, then I would have to raise the grades of everyone else who turned in a similar report. And I can't do that."

"You can't be serious," he scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"I am," you say, an edge to your voice. "It wouldn't be fair."

"Life's not fair."

"Yeah, no kidding." You huff a humorless laugh. Your lips purse, and he can tell you're holding back a glare. 

He knows he's pushing his luck, and he's starting to feel like an idiot, but he can't help himself.

"You can't honestly tell me that there's nothing we can do."

Your eyes flicker away from his, and your gaze drifts down to the datapad. He can see your mind working, can see the gears turning as you mull over your options. You chew on your lower lip, and Crosshair tries not to stare, but it's a struggle.

He's never met someone who could have him going from angry to intrigued in the span of a few minutes, and he's not sure why he's so fixated on you. Maybe it's the way you're not afraid to stand your ground against him, or maybe it's the fact that you seem genuinely concerned about his sister's wellbeing. Or maybe it's just the way you look, with your bright eyes and kind smile, and the way you're clearly trying your best to make a difference.

Whatever it is, it's working.

"There is one thing," you say, after what feels like an eternity.

"What?"

You take a deep breath, as if bracing yourself, and meet his eyes.

"I can't raise her grade, but I could offer her some extra credit, if she'd like. It's not a guarantee, and I'd have to see her improvement before I decided to give her the points, but it's an option."

"Yes." The word slips out before he can stop himself, and he mentally curses at his own eagerness.

You arch an eyebrow.

"She'd like that." He clears his throat and forces himself to sound casual, unbothered. "If you're willing."

"Of course." You smile at him, and the warmth that spreads through his chest is...weird. But not unpleasant.

He's not sure what he did to deserve that look, that smile, but he decides he doesn't hate it.

"I'll tell her," he says, and he gets to his feet.

You stand as well, and the height difference between the two of you is not lost on him. He has to look down to meet your eyes, and the way you have to tilt your head up makes him feel strangely amused.

He's used to looking down at people, and most of the time, it makes him feel superior. But right now, he just feels...

Well, he doesn't really know how to describe it.

"Thanks," he says, and the word sounds foreign on his tongue. It's not something he's used to saying, especially to a stranger. He's not even sure what he's thanking you for, exactly, but it feels appropriate.

"You're welcome," you say, a grin on your face that's almost too wide, too bright, too much. "Oh, one more thing."

He hums, and you take a step closer around the desk. You're a foot or so away from him, close enough that he can smell the perfume you use, the floral scent filling his senses. He swallows hard and tries to ignore the way his pulse is racing.

You're not making this easy for him.

"We had a chaperone drop out last minute for the end of the year field trip," you explain. "If you have the time, would you be interested in helping me out? We're going to the spaceport museum."

Crosshair has no interest in a bunch of kids running around a museum, and he's about to decline, but the look on your face stops him.

The pleading look in your eyes, the way your eyebrows are knitted together, the slight pout of your lips. He knows what you're doing, and he doesn't like it. He's not the kind of man who caves to pretty girls asking him for favors, and he's definitely not going to cave now.

He's stronger than this. He can resist the urge. He's a trained soldier, a skilled marksman, and he's not about to give in to the will of a cute teacher.

He's stronger than this.

"I'll do it," he hears himself say.

Fuck.

"Perfect." Your eyes light up, and your smile widens. You're practically beaming, and it's like looking directly at the sun. "I'll send you the details. Thank you, Crosshair. I'll see you soon."

"Yeah," he says, struggling to think of a clever response, but coming up empty. He doesn't have a chance to say anything else before you're practically shoving him out the door.

When he turns back to face you, he sees you wave, and then the door is shut, and you're gone.

The silence of the hallways is suddenly too much, and he has to force himself to take a deep breath.

He's in trouble.

The trip is a nightmare.

It's not your fault. If anything, you've gone above and beyond to keep the kids in line. Crosshair's watched you run after them, chasing them through the exhibit and reminding them that they're not allowed to touch things. And, for the most part, the kids are well-behaved. There are a handful of them that seem to have a problem listening, but you've got the rest under control.

He has to hand it to you. It's impressive, and a little endearing, how hard you're trying. He knows you're exhausted, can see it in the way your shoulders sag when the kids start talking over you, can see it in the way you sigh when one of them pushes their way past you.

But the kids are bored, and he can't blame them. It's a pretty lame field trip, and he doesn't really understand the point of bringing them here. What is a museum, anyway, if not a place to look at cool, old ships?

So far, all they've done is look at boring, historical texts, and listen to you drone on about the importance of space travel and the role its played in storytelling throughout the galaxy.

The whole thing is dull, and he doesn't have the patience for this. He wants to go home and do literally anything else, and if he has to listen to one more kid whine about being bored, he's going to scream.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

Really, he's not bored.

In fact, he's quite the opposite.

He's fascinated.

It's the way you speak, the passion and excitement in your voice. He finds himself watching the way your lips move, the way your eyes sparkle with amusement. It's the same sparkle they had the other night, when he'd confronted you in the classroom. It's the same one that's been haunting him for the past week, and it's the reason why he's stuck here, in a crowded museum, surrounded by dozens of prepubescent teenagers, all while his brothers are back at home, probably having fun without him.

And, as if things weren't already bad enough, you're wearing the cutest outfit he's ever seen. It's a dress, the kind that flows down to your ankles, and it's got tiny flowers all over it. Your hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, tied back with a pink ribbon, and it swishes back and forth as you walk.

Crosshair's not usually one for dresses, and he's definitely not a fan of the color pink. But on you? It works.

It's almost unfair, really.

No, it's extremely unfair.

He's spent the entire day stealing glances at you, trying his best not to be obvious, and Omega is catching onto him. She keeps smirking at him, her eyes narrowed, and he's pretty sure she's been teasing him. He'll get caught staring at you, and she'll elbow him in the ribs and wink at him.

It's annoying, and he hates it.

Not as much as he hates himself, though.

Because he knows better. He knows it's wrong, knows it's stupid, and yet, he can't seem to stop himself.

And the worst part is, you don't even seem to notice. You're so busy trying to keep the kids in check, to keep them from causing a scene, that you're not paying any attention to him. He's grateful for that, because he's not sure how he'd handle the embarrassment.

But, at the same time, he wishes you would look at him. Just once. Just a quick glance, a tiny smile, a small nod. Something.

He sighs.

It's been a long day, and he's tired.

He's standing near the entrance, keeping an eye on the group of students, Omega included. They're currently huddled around a holoexhibit, and he watches as you answer their questions and explain the significance of each ship. You have the patience of a saint, and he has no idea how you do it. The questions they're asking are ridiculous, and a few of them are just flat out wrong.

Crosshair's tempted to go over and tell them how stupid they are, to get them to give you a break, but he refrains. He's not supposed to be getting involved, after all. This is your job, and he's just here to make sure the kids stay safe.

But he's not about to let them cause a scene.

A flash of metal catches his attention, and he frowns. One of the kids, a Rodian, is standing on a platform, and his hand is hovering over a lever. Crosshair doesn't need to read the label to know what the kid is thinking. He's been watching this one eye this exact display all morning, and he's been waiting for him to finally get brave enough to try his luck.

The kid reaches out, and before he can touch the lever, Crosshair strides across the room. He grabs his wrist, his grip firm, and pulls his hand away. The Rodian squawks in surprise, and Crosshair glares down at him. He's not tall, not for a Rodian, and it's easy for Crosshair to loom over him.

"Don't touch that," he growls.

"I-I wasn't gonna," the kid stammers, and his eyes dart towards the exit. He looks ready to bolt, and Crosshair would find it funny if it weren't for the way the rest of the kids are staring at him.

"Bullshit."

"Language," you scold, and Crosshair turns his head to see you approaching him, an exasperated look on your face. You have your hands on your hips, and you look like you're ready to lecture him instead of the kid who was about to activate the simulator without permission.

He raises an eyebrow at you, challenging you.

"You shouldn't swear in front of children," you say, your tone matter-of-fact.

"Well, maybe they shouldn't touch shit that's not theirs," he retorts, and he shoots the kid a pointed look.

"Crosshair!"

You're glaring at him now, and he knows he should feel bad, but he doesn't. He can't. Your cheeks are flushed, and your brows are furrowed, and you're trying so hard to look stern and serious, but it's not working. He's not sure why, but seeing you angry is a lot more appealing than it should be.

It makes him want to push your buttons.

"If I catch you touching this again, I'll throw you out," he warns the kid, and he lets go of his wrist. "Got it?"

The kid nods, and then he's dashing back to the rest of the group, a look of fear on his face.

"What is wrong with you?" you demand, and Crosshair looks down at you, fighting the urge to smirk. You're still glaring at him, but the flush on your cheeks is a shade darker now, and he can't help but feel a little proud of himself.

"I'm just doing my job," he says, and the smirk he'd been fighting is making its way onto his face now.

Your eyes widen. "Your job is to make sure the kids are safe, not threaten them."

"I wasn't threatening him," he scoffs.

"Yes, you were."

"No, I wasn't."

"Yes, you—"

"Okay, fine, maybe I was. A little," he admits, and you shake your head, a huff escaping you. The glare falls away, and the look on your face is softer now, a little less annoyed, and a lot more amused.

"I had it handled," you tell him, and there's a hint of teasing in your tone now, too.

"Yeah, it looked like it."

"Crosshair," you warn, but the corners of your lips are twitching upwards, betraying the seriousness of your voice.

"What? I'm just trying to help," he says, and the shrug he gives is a little more smug than it should be.

Crosshair isn't trying to antagonize you, not really. He's just...testing the waters, he supposes. Seeing how far he can push you, seeing how much you can take before you crack, and he has to admit that you're holding up pretty well so far. Most people would've told him off, or stormed off by now, but not you.

No, you're still here.

You're standing in front of him, your arms folded across your chest, trying your very best not to smile at him.

You're enjoying this.

The realization hits him like a punch to the gut, and he has to force himself to breathe normally. He's not sure why that's such a revelation, but it is. You're enjoying his company, enjoying the back-and-forth, and it makes him feel lighter than air.

"Are you always this much of an ass?" you ask, and his eyes widen at the sudden vulgarity, but he recovers quickly. He likes it, actually. The bluntness, the honesty. It's refreshing, and a lot more than he expected from you.

Crosshair smirks. "Now who's swearing in front of children?"

"They're not paying attention."

"Oh, right, because the exhibit on the history of intergalactic trade is so exciting," he says, and you snort, shaking your head.

"Yeah, you're not wrong," you admit, and he chuckles.

"I know."

"Of course you do," you mutter sarcastically. But, the annoyance has faded, and there's a smile on your face as you turn to look at the kids, so Crosshair considers it a win.

You stand there, next to him, your arms folded, and you watch as the kids slowly make their way through the exhibit. They're talking among themselves, completely oblivious to the exchange between the two of you. It's a bit of a relief, because he's not sure what they would make of the fact that he's flirting with their teacher.

Is he flirting?

No, that's not right.

He's not flirting.

He's just being...friendly. He's just making conversation, and there's nothing wrong with that. It's not his fault that you're easy to talk to.

Omega is the only one looking in his direction, and he doesn't miss the grin on her face. He shoots her a look, a warning, and she winks at him. He glares, and she sticks her tongue out.

Great.

He's definitely going to hear about this later.

"You're not exactly what I was expecting," you say quietly. 

Crosshair looks back at you, his heart skipping a beat when he realizes just how close you are. You're standing next to him, shoulder to shoulder, and you're looking up at him, the same sparkle in your eyes as before. There’s a hint of a smile on your lips, and you seem...pleased.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" he asks, and he's almost afraid to know the answer.

"A good thing, of course." You nudge him playfully with your elbow, and the touch sends a jolt of electricity up his arm. "I'm glad I was wrong."

"Yeah, me too."

You laugh at that, and he smiles, more than a little pleased with himself. It's an unexpected, but pleasant, reaction, and he finds himself wanting to make you laugh again.

"Anyway," you say, taking a step back. "Thanks for keeping the kids in line. I really appreciate it."

He shrugs. "It's nothing."

"No, really." You look up at him, your eyes bright, and you give him a sympathetic smile. "I know this isn't exactly what you signed up for."

"It's not so bad."

You raise an eyebrow, clearly skeptical.

"I mean, it's boring as hell," he admits, and the way your nose scrunches up as you laugh is adorable. He clears his throat and tries to focus. "But it's not awful. The company's...bearable."

You tilt your head to the side, and your eyes narrow. "Thanks, I think."

"Don't mention it."

"So," you start, a slight hesitation in your voice, "does this mean you're not going to file a complaint against me?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Crosshair teases. The way your eyes widen is enough to make him chuckle. "But I guess I can let it slide. For now."

"For now," you repeat, and you let out a breath. You shake your head and look up at him, the ghost of a smile on your lips. "Well, I'll take it. Now, let's get back to the kids, shall we?"

"After you," he says, gesturing for you to lead the way.

He follows after you, and he tries his best not to stare at the sway of your hips as you walk. He fails, but only a little bit.

And, if he catches you glancing back at him every so often, well, he's not complaining.

Omega is practically bouncing on her heels as they make their way down the street, heading home from the school. She's talking a mile a minute, her eyes bright, and she's still somehow full of energy despite the long day they've had. Crosshair can't quite keep up with her, and he's having trouble focusing on her words. He has no idea how you manage to do this every day, and he feels a little bad for thinking that teaching is an easy job.

She's going on about the trip, how much fun she had, and she's not slowing down. Crosshair doesn't mind, though. He's content to listen to her, and he's not going to stop her from gushing about her day. He does the same thing for her he’s always done for Tech, humming and nodding in the right places, and he knows that it makes her feel good to talk.

Besides, he's too distracted by his own thoughts to focus on what she's saying.

He's spent the last hour replaying the events of the day in his mind, trying to make sense of everything. The way you'd looked at him, the way you'd laughed, the way you'd teased him. It's all a little overwhelming, and he's not sure how to process it.

Crosshair isn't the kind of person who gets all worked up over a pretty girl. He’s not even the kind of person who gets all worked up, period.

But something about you, the way you carry yourself, the way you smile, the way you look at him. It's different.

You're different.

He doesn't know what to do with that information, and he's not sure he likes it. For all he knows, you're just being nice, just trying to be polite so he doesn’t give you a hard time. It wouldn't be the first time someone's done that.

Crosshair has been told his whole life that he's difficult to deal with, and he's learned to live with that. He's used to people being afraid of him, and he's used to people not wanting to be around him. He used to take pride in the fact that people were scared of him, but lately, it's started to wear on him.

Maybe it's because of his brothers, the way they've started to change, the way they've become softer. Or maybe it's because of Omega, the way she looks up to him, the way she trusts him, the way she thinks he's capable of great things.

Either way, he can't deny that he's a little lonely.

And maybe a little curious.

"Crosshair," Omega says, and the sharpness in her voice catches his attention. She's stopped walking, and she's giving him a look, her eyes narrowed. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Huh?" He blinks, and then he frowns. "Yeah, of course."

"Then, what did I just say?" she challenges, her hands on her hips, her head tilted up.

He pauses, and then sighs. "No, not really."

"I knew it!" she exclaims, throwing her hands up. "You were totally spacing out."

"I was not."

"Yes, you were," she argues, and she crosses her arms over her chest. "What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"Really? Because you look like you're thinking about something."

"Nope," he lies. Crosshair turns his head away from her, pretending to look at something else. There's a few vendors pulling in their stands in front of them, closing up for the evening, and he watches them, trying to avoid Omega's gaze. The florist is packing up his display, and the bright, colorful flowers draw his attention. He tries to ignore the fact that they remind him of your dress.

"Are you sure? You seem...weird."

"I'm fine."

"Are you thinking about the field trip?" she asks, and he can hear the smugness in her voice. "About Miss—"

"Omega." He snaps his head back towards her, his eyes wide, and he gives her a warning look.

"What?" she says, feigning innocence, and he groans.

"Just drop it," he mutters, and he turns to keep walking.

"I can't," she says, following after him. She has to jog slightly to keep up with his hurried pace, but it does nothing to deter her. "You like her."

"Of course I like her. She’s nice,” he replies. His tone comes out more defensive than casual, and he grimaces internally.

"No, you really like her."

Crosshair opens his mouth, ready to defend himself. There's no way that's true. It's impossible. He barely knows you, and you're just his sister's teacher. 

Just a pretty, sweet, kind teacher who cares about her students and isn't afraid to push the boundaries to help them learn. Who didn't back down when he challenged her, and didn't hesitate to stand her ground when he was being an ass. 

Who smiles at him and looks at him like he's worth something, like he's important, like he matters. Who laughs at his pathetic attempts at humor and makes him feel like he's not a complete waste of space, like maybe there's something worthwhile inside of him after all. Like maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for him.

Shit.

He shakes his head. "You're crazy."

"Am not," she insists, and she skips in front of him, forcing him to stop. "I won't tell anyone."

"Omega—"

"You know, she's single," she continues with a knowing, smug grin, and it reminds him so much of Hunter that he has to take a deep breath and count to ten before he can speak again. And even then, he's still annoyed.

"How the hell do you know that?" he demands, his eyebrows raised.

"I overheard her talking to the other teachers during lunch," she explains, and the smugness fades, replaced by a sheepish smile.

"You shouldn't eavesdrop," he chastises, though he's a little too preoccupied with the new information to put much force behind the words.

"I didn't mean to," she says with a shrug. "I was looking for her, and I found her, and they were talking about her, so..."

"So, what else did you hear?" he asks, trying his best to sound disinterested.

"Nothing."

"Omega," he warns.

"I didn't hear anything!" she insists, her eyes wide. After a beat, a smirk forms on her face, and her eyes narrow. "Why? Did you want to know something else?"

"No," he snaps, a little too quickly. "Just forget it."

"But—"

"It's not important," he says, cutting her off as he steps around her and continues walking. He hears her groan in frustration, and he smirks to himself. Serves her right.

"Wait!" She hurries after him, her hands gripping the strap of her bag tightly as she catches up. She's practically running now, trying her best to match his long strides, and her breathing is a little heavier than normal. "Crosshair, slow down."

"No."

She huffs. "I'm just saying—"

"Omega, enough."

"I think she likes you, too."

Crosshair stops walking abruptly, and Omega almost collides with him. He turns his head towards her, his eyebrows raised, and she takes a step back.

"What makes you say that?" he asks. He knows he's being foolish, letting her bait him like this, but he can't help himself. The hopeful note in her voice is hard to ignore, and he's suddenly feeling a lot more optimistic than he should.

"Because she kept looking at you," she explains.

"No, she didn't."

"Yes, she did," she argues. "She was looking at you, like, the entire time. The whole trip. I'm surprised you didn't notice."

"You're exaggerating," he mutters, trying to hide the flush in his cheeks.

"I'm not," she says, shaking her head. "I was keeping track."

"You know, if you paid half as much attention to your schoolwork as you do to gossiping, neither of us would be in this mess," he retorts.

"Hey! That's not true," Omega pouts. "I learned everything I need to know about intergalactic trade from Tech. I'm good."

Crosshair can't help but smile at that, and Omega grins back at him. They start walking again, this time a little slower, and she reaches for his hand, grabbing hold of his fingers.

"But you like her, right?" she asks, tilting her head up at him.

"She's...nice," he admits, and the look on her face tells him that's not enough. He sighs and rubs the back of his neck with his prosthetic hand. "I don't know. Maybe."

"You should ask her out."

"Yeah, I don't think that's a good idea," he mutters, shaking his head.

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I barely know her."

"So? Just get to know her," Omega says, and he sighs.

"It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"Because..." Crosshair hesitates, trying to think of a reason. The truth is, he's never really had to deal with this kind of situation. He's not exactly the best when it comes to social interactions, and his history with romantic relationships is...limited. It's not something he's ever bothered to think about, but now that it's staring him in the face, he feels woefully unprepared.

"What if she says no?"

"Well, what if she says yes?"

Crosshair doesn't respond. If he's being honest, he hadn't even considered the possibility of you saying yes. He'd been so focused on the negative outcome, the embarrassment, the awkwardness, that he'd completely forgotten about the other side of the equation. What if you did say yes? What would he do then? Would he be happy? Relieved? Or would he be even more nervous than before?

"I don't know," he finally admits.

"You should ask her," Omega urges. "At least, think about it."

"Maybe," he says, and she frowns, clearly not satisfied with the answer. He sighs, and then gives her hand a squeeze. "I'll think about it."

"Okay," she grumbles, and the two of them continue walking, falling into a comfortable silence. It's quiet between them all the way to the front door, and he's almost home free, his hand hovering over the sensor pad, when Omega speaks up.

"I'm just saying," she starts, and he groans, "you should go for it."

"I'm done having this conversation," he grumbles as he tugs her inside, slamming the door behind him. He can hear voices coming from the kitchen, and he freezes, holding fast to her wrist.

"You have to promise not to tell them."

"Okay, okay, I promise," she says, rolling her eyes, and she tugs her arm away.

"No, not okay," he says. "If you tell them, I'll kill you."

"Okay, fine," she huffs, and he narrows his eyes at her.

"I'm serious," he says, his tone low, threatening. It doesn't work on Omega, not anymore, and she just looks up at him, unbothered.

"So am I."

"Fine." Crosshair sighs, deflating, and then, before he can stop himself, the words are spilling out. "So, what do I do?"

Omega's face lights up, a grin so wide it nearly splits her face in two, and he regrets the question almost instantly. "I'll help you."

"What?"

"I'll help you," she repeats.

"You're kidding," he deadpans.

"No," she says, shaking her head. "I have a great idea. Trust me."

"Omega—"

"I promise, you won't regret it," she says, and then, she's gone, dashing off towards the kitchen where Hunter and Wrecker are arguing about dinner.

Crosshair watches her go, and then, with a groan, he drags his hand over his face.

What has he gotten himself into?

The next few weeks are a blur. Omega's been keeping him busy, asking him to help her with homework, walking her to and from school, and the whole time, he's wondering when she's going to bring up her big plan.

She managed to get a score high enough on her extra credit in your class to pull her grade up, and Hunter nearly fell over when he found out. You'd sent a letter home with her, letting them know how impressed you were, and both Hunter and Wrecker wouldn't shut up about it for days. Omega's been bragging about it, too, and Crosshair's heard her go on about how smart and amazing and brilliant and perfect you are, over and over again.

She hasn't brought up her big plan again, though, and Crosshair's grateful. She has, however, started dropping hints here and there, meddling in ways that she shouldn't, and it's getting old, fast. 

He's already had to stop her from inviting you over for dinner, twice, and he's not sure how much longer he can keep her from blowing his cover. More than once, Omega's forgotten her datapad at home, and he's had to drop everything to run it to the school. It's a pain in the ass, but at least it gives him an excuse to see you.

And he sees you, a lot more than he should.

He tries not to get too excited about it, tries not to think too hard about what it means, but it's impossible. Omega's made it her mission to get the two of you alone together, and he can't help but feel a bit like a pawn in her scheme, one that she refuses to share with him. Not that it matters, because it's working.

You're talking to him.

In fact, the two of you have spent so much time together over the last few weeks, that it's almost weird when he doesn't see you. Every morning, when he drops Omega off at school, he makes sure to walk her inside. You're always there, and he doesn't miss the way you look up when the door opens or the way you smile when you see him. You're usually sitting at your desk, grading papers, or helping a student, and he's quick to leave before anyone notices how long he's standing there. 

But every once in a while, when he's lucky, you're standing at the front of the room, and the two of you are able to exchange a few words. It's nothing too special, and it's not as if you're exchanging life stories or anything, but it's enough. It's more than he could've hoped for, and it's better than the alternative, which is absolutely nothing. He even brought you coffee one day, after you'd stayed late to work on a project with Omega, and you'd blushed.

Blushed.

For him.

Crosshair would be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed that. It's nice, having someone to talk to, and it's nice, being able to see you smile. Even if it's only for a minute or two, and even if his brothers are constantly giving him shit for it.

He's not an idiot. He knows they're all watching him, waiting to see how this plays out, and he's doing his best not to give them any ammunition. Omega's already told him, several times, that they're rooting for him, and he's not sure how to feel about that. The last thing he needs is everyone butting into his business, and he's hoping that Omega will keep her word and keep her mouth shut.

He's not going to say anything, not until he's absolutely sure. And, even then, he'll probably wait. The only problem is, he's almost certain he's run out of time.

Crosshair has been keeping a mental countdown, counting down the days until Omega's finished with school, and it's come up a lot sooner than he'd expected. The semester is over, and it's officially summer vacation, which means you're no longer Omega's teacher. And with that, comes an end to whatever small shred of hope he'd had that something might happen, that whatever plan Omega had in mind would work, and the two of you would end up together.

Which is fine.

Really, it's fine.

He's not hurt. He's not disappointed. He's not anything. He doesn't care, not one bit, and he definitely isn't sulking, not at all, because that would be ridiculous.

It's just a crush. A silly, stupid, fleeting thing, and it's not worth getting upset about. It's not like anything would've happened between the two of you. You're way out of his league, and he knows that.

But still.

He can't deny that he misses the daily interaction, the brief exchanges, the occasional smiles. He can't deny that he'd enjoyed it, and now that it's over, he feels a little lost. 

He jumped at the chance to go to the summer festival with everyone, partly because he didn't want to be home alone, and partly because he was hoping to run into you there. Which is stupid, and foolish, and pathetic, but he can't help himself. He'd overheard you telling Omega that you'd be there, and it's the closest thing he has to a sign, and so, he's taking it.

Besides, Hunter practically ordered him to go, so it's not like he had a choice.

So, here he is, standing off to the side, watching the rest of the family enjoying themselves. It's still early, and the real festivities won't begin until the sun starts to set, but everyone is already in a good mood. He tries his best not to ruin it with his attitude, but he knows he's doing a shitty job of it, and it doesn't help that they're teasing him relentlessly.

"You're moping."

Crosshair sighs and rolls his eyes as Hunter bumps him with his elbow. He's been standing next to him, staring out into the crowd, and he doesn't turn his head when his brother speaks.

"No, I'm not," he replies.

"Yes, you are," Hunter says. He takes a sip of his drink, and then, nudges him again. "Is this about your girlfriend?"

"Shut up," Crosshair grumbles, and he elbows him back, a little harder than necessary. Some of Hunter’s drink spills, and he feels a small flash of satisfaction.

"Ow."

"Leave me alone," he says, and Hunter snorts.

"No, I'm not gonna do that," Hunter says, a hint of amusement in his voice. "It's too easy."

Crosshair groans, and turns his head away, trying his best to ignore him. It doesn't work.

"Come on, just ask her out," Hunter urges, and Crosshair glares at him.

He can hear Wrecker snickering behind him, and when he turns around, the look on his face tells him everything he needs to know. He must've been listening in the whole time.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Hunter continues.

"I could make an idiot out of myself," Crosshair replies.

"So? You already do that every day," Wrecker jokes, and he winces when Hunter smacks him.

"Not helping," Hunter mutters, and Wrecker just shrugs.

"Look," Hunter says, turning back towards him, "if she says no, at least you'll know, and you can stop worrying about it."

Crosshair doesn't respond, too caught up in the sight of you weaving your way through the crowd. You're wearing a sundress, a cute little thing that ends just above your knees, and a flower crown sitting atop of your head, and he can't take his eyes off of you. 

You're walking with Omega's art teacher, a Rutian Twi’Lek laden with jewelry, talking and gesturing animatedly. She has her hands full with decorations for the festival, and you're trying to help, but she keeps shooing you away. He can see the pout on your face, and he can't help but smile, just a little, and then you turn your head and catch Crosshair staring.

He doesn't have time to look away.

He doesn't even have time to try.

Instead, he watches, frozen, as your eyes lock with his. Your face lights up, a bright smile on your lips, and you wave at him. He feels his hand lift in acknowledgement despite himself, and he can't stop the way his lips quirk up into a half-smile. 

He can see Omega trailing after the two of you, a stack of posters in her hands, and she's saying something, but he can't hear her. The only thing he can hear is his heart pounding in his ears, and the only thing he can see is you, your face flushed, and a look in your eyes that's far too soft for him to know what to do with.

"Wow," Hunter says, breaking the spell, and he blinks, the image of you in front of him fading, replaced by his brother's annoying smirk.

"What?"

"I knew you liked her, but I didn't know it was this bad," Hunter says.

"Oh, come on," Wrecker teases, a big grin spreading across his face. "He's in love."

Crosshair can't stop the growl of frustration that leaves him, and the sound makes his brothers laugh. He wants to shove them, or punch them, or something, but he doesn't have the chance.

You’re walking over.

You're heading in their direction, and Crosshair panics, unsure of what to do. He doesn't know how to be anything other than aloof and rude, and he's afraid he'll say something stupid and embarrass himself. He doesn't want to mess this up, and he's terrified he'll ruin everything if he says the wrong thing.

He looks at Hunter, a desperate plea in his eyes, but his brother is no help. Instead, he just smirks and shrugs, nudging Wrecker.

"We should go check on Omega," he says, his tone is casual. "C'mon, Wrecker."

Wrecker doesn't argue, and he doesn't hesitate, following Hunter without a word. Before he can blink, they're gone, and it's just the two of you. Crosshair's not sure if it's better or worse.

"Hi," you say, your voice soft as you come to a stop in front of him.

Your cheeks are flushed, and you're fidgeting. He finds it endearing, and the fact that you're just as flustered as he is makes him feel a little bit better.

"Hey," he says, his voice coming out a bit raspier than he'd intended. He clears his throat, and then nods towards your companion. "Are you having fun?"

You tilt your head and look back over your shoulder, and Crosshair doesn't miss the slight roll of your eyes.

"Yeah, I'm having a blast," you deadpan, and he can't help but laugh. He's grown used to your particular brand of sarcasm over the past few weeks, the kind that only seems to come out when he's around, and he's come to enjoy the way it sounds when it's aimed at someone else.

"Don't worry," he says, "we can be miserable together."

"Well, that's not very festive," you reply, and there's a teasing edge to your voice. "What did the festival ever do to you?"

"Nothing, I just don't like people."

"Fair enough," you say with a laugh. "So, what brings you here?"

"Omega."

"Ah." You nod, and a soft smile forms on your face. "Of course. She told me you'll be helping us out later. Thanks, by the way."

Crosshair raises an eyebrow.

This is news to him.

"Uh, yeah," he says slowly, his eyes narrowing. "What did she say, exactly?"

"She said you'd be helping with the games." You tilt your head and look up at him, confusion in your eyes. "Is that...not true?"

He stares back at you, unsure of what to say. He's never agreed to anything like that, and the idea of working with children is...unappealing, to say the least. He can't imagine why Omega would've said that.

The realization hits him, and his eyes widen.

That little brat.

She set him up.

She's been planning this, and he was too distracted with moping to realize it. He'd let her walk all over him, and now, he's going to have to play along. Because there's no way in hell he's going to tell you the truth, not now, not when you're looking up at him, expectant and hopeful.

"Yeah, no," he lies, shaking his head. "She's right. I'll be there."

"Great," you say, and he's pretty sure you actually mean it. "I'm running the scavenger hunt. And, if you wanted, I could use a partner."

Crosshair blinks, brain stuttering over the word partner, and he must look like an idiot, because you start to backtrack.

"But, you probably have better things to do. I'm sure there's someone else who would love to help. I just thought—"

"No, no, I'll help," he interrupts, and you stop, giving him a grateful look.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Your smile is so bright, so radiant, that it makes his heart ache. He can't remember the last time someone was this happy to spend time with him. He's not used to feeling wanted, and the knowledge that you enjoy his company fills him with a sense of pride he's not quite prepared for.

"But," he starts, his eyebrows raised, "you owe me."

"I know, I know," you say with a laugh. "Anything you want."

"I'm serious," he insists, though the smirk on his face betrays his words. "I'm doing this under duress. I'm being held against my will."

"I'll make it worth your while," you tease, and the way your eyes flash, the playful look in them, is almost enough to make him forget how to breathe. He tries not to focus on it, tries not to dwell on the way his mind immediately goes to some very interesting places, but it's a losing battle. He's sure his cheeks are red, and the knowing look in your eyes doesn't help.

"Uh," he says, his voice strangled, and he has to clear his throat again before he can continue. "Good.”

"Good," you repeat, and the smile on your face turns shy. You take a step back, and then another, and the look in your eyes is...different, softer, and a little more vulnerable. It makes his stomach twist. "Well, I should probably go. But, I'll see you later, right?"

He nods, and you grin. You wave goodbye and walk away, and Crosshair watches you go, a small smile on his face. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes at himself, but he can't stop smiling. It's a dumb thing to be happy about, but it's nice, knowing that you're looking forward to seeing him. And the way you'd looked at him, the hopeful look in your eyes, the shyness, the blush on your cheeks. He can't stop thinking about it.

It's just a crush, and it'll go away eventually. It's just a silly little thing, and it'll fade away. You'll be gone, and he'll be left behind, and everything will go back to normal. He'll get over it.

But, as he stands there, watching you laugh and smile and talk to the others, the sight of you making him feel things that he's not quite ready to admit, he can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he doesn't want it to.

By the time the sun sets, the courtyard is packed. The vendors have all set up their stalls, the games have begun, and the music is blaring. Crosshair stays close to Wrecker, using his bulk to help him avoid the crowds, and does his best to ignore the children running around. Wrecker's not much help. He keeps wandering off, getting distracted by the food or the games, and Crosshair is left to wander around alone.

It's not all bad, though.

He's able to keep an eye on Omega, and that's enough to keep him occupied. He knows she can take care of herself, but it's hard for him to relax when she's not within eyesight. And, every once in a while, you catch his eye. You're busy, running from place to place, and he knows that you don't have time to stop and chat, but the small, shy smiles that you give him are enough to put him at ease.

It's a nice distraction, and it helps him stay focused, which is a good thing. Because, before he knows it, it's time for the scavenger hunt. Omega drags him over to the table where you’re waiting, and he can't help but smile at the enthusiasm in your voice.

"I'm so glad you could make it," you say, and the look in your eyes tells him that you really mean it.

At his side, Omega looks far too proud of herself. Crosshair narrows his eyes at her, and she gives him a toothy grin in return.

"Me too," he mutters, and you laugh.

"Come on," you say, grabbing a basket from the table. "Let's get started."

Crosshair nods, and he stands back as you hand out datapads and explain rules to the crowd that’s formed around them. He's not paying attention. He's watching you, listening to your voice, enjoying the way you look in the light of Pabu’s setting sun, and it's a nice moment. That is, until Omega elbows him, and he startles.

"What?"

“She likes you," she whispers conspiratorially, her hand cupped over her mouth.

"Shut up," he hisses.

Omega giggles, and he glares at her, but it does nothing to wipe the smirk from her face.

"I'm not talking to you," he growls.

"Yeah, you are," she says, her voice laced with amusement. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Before he can say anything, you announce that the scavenger hunt has started, and the kids are off. Omega joins the crowd, and soon, she's lost among the swarm of children running past them. Crosshair watches her go, his eyebrows furrowed, and then, he turns his attention to you.

You're smiling, waving at the kids, and he can't take his eyes off of you. This was a bad idea. He should've said no. He should've done something, anything, but instead, he'd let himself get roped into helping, and now, he's standing here, watching you, wishing he had the courage to just say something, and it's driving him crazy.

"Thanks again for helping," you say, turning towards him, and he startles, caught off guard.

"Uh, yeah, no problem," he replies. "I was going to be here anyway."

"Yeah, Omega mentioned that."

Crosshair nods, and the two of you settle into an awkward silence. He shifts on his feet, his hands shoved in his pockets, and he stares out into the crowd. You're quiet beside him, and the longer the silence lasts, the more uncomfortable he becomes.

It's not like you to be so quiet. Usually, you're chatting his ear off, asking him questions, trying to get him to open up, and the fact that you haven't said a word is concerning. You’re shuffling datapads and small trinkets around as if looking for something to keep yourself busy, and he's starting to wonder if he's done something wrong.

He's trying not to worry about it, but the longer the silence stretches, the more his mind races. He knows he's overthinking, and the more he thinks about it, the more anxious he becomes.

It's just a crush, he reminds himself.

He doesn't want anything from you. He doesn't need anything from you. He doesn't expect anything from you. But, as he stands there, trying not to dwell on the way his heart is racing, the way his stomach is twisting, the way his breath catches in his throat, he can't help but feel like a bit of an idiot.

He can't help but wonder if you've figured him out. 

Maybe you know, and that's why you're acting so strange. Maybe you can tell, and you're waiting for him to make the first move. Maybe you're nervous, or maybe, you just don't want him to say anything, because you don't feel the same way, and that's why you're keeping your distance. He knows that's a long shot, but it doesn't stop his brain from fixating on the thought. He can't help but think about how much worse it'll be if you do know.

So, he stands there, and the silence stretches on, tension thick in the air as you cast glances at each other. 

It's not until a couple of kids come up and ask for help with the next clue that the tension breaks.

The two of them are young, maybe eight or nine, and they're struggling. They're a cute pair, brother and sister, and they remind him a lot of his siblings. Their parents are nowhere in sight, and they're arguing, bickering, and it’s not until you crouch down to speak to them, taking the datapad from the boy's hands, that they calm down. You explain the next clue to them, and Crosshair watches as the siblings nod, their faces lighting up with understanding.

He wants to keep watching you, but a second pair of kids approach, and then a third. He can see you’re starting to get overwhelmed, and so he picks up a datapad and gets to work.

Soon, the two of you have a rhythm. You help the younger kids while he helps the older ones, and the system seems to work. He finds himself enjoying the task, and he doesn't even realize that an hour has passed until the scavenger hunt is over and the sun has nearly set. The two of you gather up the datapads, and the kids line up in front of the table, ready to receive their prize.

They're all so excited, and they're smiling and laughing and cheering, and it's a nice sight. Crosshair has never been the biggest fan of children, but these ones aren’t so bad.

He doesn't even realize that he's smiling until Omega runs back over to him, her arms outstretched, and she flings herself at him. She grabs hold of his waist, and she squeezes him tight.

"Thanks for helping," she says, her voice muffled, and he has to swallow past the lump in his throat.

"No problem," he replies as she lets go. She's still grinning at him, her eyes bright, and he can't help but reach out and ruffle her hair. "How'd you do?"

"I won," she boasts and slaps his hand away, and he rolls his eyes, unable to keep from smirking.

"Of course you did."

"It wasn't easy," Omega continues, her eyebrows raising as she speaks slowly. "But I had a great partner."

Crosshair sighs, and he gives her a knowing look, which she ignores.

“Don’t screw this up,” she whispers, and then, before he can say anything, she turns on her heel and heads back towards the others.

You're still sitting at the table, and he takes a moment to compose himself before heading over. You're organizing the datapads, sorting them into a bag, and he takes a seat next to you.

"Thanks for the help," you say, and he nods, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Not a problem."

"You did a good job," you tell him. He ducks his head, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as you continue, “You’re good with them.”

"Well, you're welcome," he says, his voice low. "I have a lot of practice dealing with little brats."

You laugh, and the sound makes his heart swell. You continue sorting the datapads, and he watches you work, his eyes trailing over your features. It's not until you clear your throat that he realizes how long he's been staring.

"So, um," he begins, trying not to think too hard about the fact that he's been caught. "I was thinking..."

You look up. "Yeah?"

"You owe me."

"Huh?"

"You said anything I want," he explains, and the confusion on your face clears.

"Right," you reply, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. You stop what you’re doing and turn to face him fully. "And what would that be?"

"Dinner.”

"Dinner?" you repeat, your eyebrows raised, and he nods.

"With me."

"Are you asking me on a date, Crosshair?"

"Yeah," he says, and his heart leaps into his throat when your eyes light up. "I'm asking you on a date."

"Oh," you say, a soft smile on your lips, and he can't help but mirror it. "Well, how could I say no?"

"Great," he replies, and then, after a pause, he asks, "is that a yes?"

"Yes, of course it's a yes,” you chuckle. You shake your head, and then, a teasing smile forms on your face. "Did you think I was gonna say no?"

"Uh," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was prepared for it."

You snort, and the laughter that follows is almost enough to distract him from the way his cheeks are burning. Almost. He looks away, embarrassed, but he can't help but smile.

"Sorry," you say, stifling your laughter, and he shrugs.

"It's fine."

"No, no, I'm not laughing at you," you say. You're biting your lip, trying to stop yourself from smiling, and his eyes narrow. "It's just..."

"What?"

"This whole time," you begin, and you have to bite back another laugh. "I've been trying to figure out how to ask you out."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah," you admit, and the shy smile on your face is almost too much for him to handle. He can't believe what he's hearing. "I've been waiting for an excuse to spend some time alone with you, but I couldn't think of anything. So, when Omega mentioned you'd be helping out, I figured it would be my chance."

Crosshair shakes his head, trying to process the words. It's a lot to take in. You've been trying to ask him out? All this time, he's been wondering, worrying, and it was all for nothing? You've wanted this, too?

"Oh," is all he can manage, and it's enough to make you laugh again.

"Yeah."

He doesn't know what to say, so he stays silent. You shift next to him, and you place your hand on his arm, the contact sending sparks through his skin. Your touch is light, but it makes his breath catch, and he doesn't miss the way you smile at his reaction.

“So, do you want to watch the fireworks with me?” you ask, your voice soft.

"Yeah, sure," he says. He's trying not to let his excitement show, but judging by the grin on your face, he's not doing a very good job of it.

"Good."

He's expecting you to let go of his arm, but instead, you slide your hand down, and your fingers brush against his, a subtle gesture that makes his heart race. He turns his hand palm up, and you slide yours into it, your touch warm and gentle. His fingers curl around yours, and the smile on your face makes him feel bold.

Crosshair stands, pulling you up with him, and the two of you walk to the edge of the courtyard, hand in hand. It’s quiet now, save for the music playing over the speakers and the soft murmur of conversation, and the sky is dark. There are only a few people left nearby, mostly parents picking up their children, and no one pays the two of you any mind. You squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back, a smile forming on his face.

You lead him down a set of steps, and the two of you make your way towards a spot overlooking the bay. The breeze is cool, and the smell of salt fills the air. Without the lanterns and torches and strings of lights, it's dark, and he can just barely see your face, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon.

There’s a tree behind you, and it offers a bit of privacy, and the two of you settle against it, sitting on the grass. He can see the bay spread out in front of them, and the waves crashing on the beach, a steady rhythm that helps slow his racing heartbeat. 

He's still holding your hand, and he gives it another squeeze. You lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder, and the two of you watch as the fireworks begin. The explosions are loud, and bright, and colorful, and you point out the best ones, and the ones that remind you of him, and the ones that make you laugh. And, as the fireworks continue, as the colors fill the sky, you lean closer, and he pulls you into his arms.

He's not sure how long it lasts, but the longer the fireworks go on, the closer you get, and the more content he becomes. You're sitting between his legs, leaning back against his chest, and his arms are wrapped around you, holding you close.

You turn your head, the movement catching his eye. Your eyes meet his, and the two of you stare at each other, and the fireworks fade away, forgotten.

"Hey," he whispers, and the corner of your mouth twitches.

"Hey."

"This is nice," he says, his voice low.

"Yeah, it is."

You shift, turning towards him, and your face is so close that he can feel your breath on his lips. He knows he should wait, should give you a chance to change your mind, should give himself a chance to talk himself out of it, but he can't. 

"I—"

"Yes," you interrupt, a mischievous glint in your eyes, and he has to laugh.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say," he teases, and you shrug.

"I'm sure it's something good," you say. You reach up, cupping his cheek with your free hand. "Whatever it is, the answer is yes."

He can't stop the smile that forms on his face. He doesn't even try. He just leans in, closing the gap between the two of you, and he kisses you, a soft press of his lips against yours. He feels you sigh against his mouth, and his eyes flutter closed as he loses himself in the kiss.

The fireworks are still going off, but he can barely hear them, and the cheers and laughter and music are distant, a soft hum that fades away. All he can focus on is the feel of your lips against his, the warmth of your body pressed against his, and the soft sound of your breathing.

He feels you smile, and his heart races, and he has to pull back to catch his breath. He opens his eyes, and he's met with the sight of you, your face flushed, and the most beautiful smile he's ever seen.

"That was nice," you say softly, and he scoffs.

“Just nice?" he asks, half-joking and half-serious. He’s just had the best kiss of his life, and if you think it was just nice, then he's got some work to do.

"Well, maybe it was a little more than nice," you tease. The look in your eyes has him leaning in again, his gaze drifting from your eyes to your lips and back.

"Only a little?"

"Yeah, a little."

"Hmm, well, let's try that again," he murmurs, and you laugh, a soft breath against his lips.

"Alright."

Crosshair kisses you again, and this time, the kiss is deeper, slower, and more deliberate. His hands find their way to your hips, pulling you onto his lap, and you don't hesitate to follow his lead. He runs his tongue along your lower lip, and when you moan into his mouth, he feels a thrill rush through him.

Your hands are on his shoulders, and you're straddling his lap as you kiss him back, matching his pace. The feel of your tongue sliding against, and the soft whimper you make when he bites down on your bottom lip, nearly drives him crazy. He grips your hips, and he tugs you closer, the pressure of your weight against him drawing a groan from his mouth into yours. It’s a sound so low and raw that it surprises him, but you don’t seem taken aback by it. If anything, you seem pleased, and it suddenly occurs to him that there’s a lot he doesn’t know about you.

And, for once, he's excited to learn.

He doesn't want this to end, and when you break the kiss, his lips chase yours, unwilling to part just yet. You're gasping, your breath coming in shallow pants, and he rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his fingers digging into your hips.

"You're right," you say, breathless. "Definitely better than nice."

Crosshair laughs, and he opens his eyes. The sight of you, your eyes dark and your cheeks flushed, lips swollen and red, is almost enough to make him let go of the fragile grasp he has on his control. He wants to kiss you again, and again, and again, but the sound of cheering startles him and reminds him of where he is.

He blinks, and he looks around, and then, he lets out a breath. The fireworks are over.

He hadn't realized.

You're still staring at him, a dazed look in your eyes, and when your lips twitch into a smirk, his grip on your hips tightens.

"Don't look at me like that," he warns, his voice raspy.

"Why not?" you ask. Your hand moves from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, fingers brushing against the hairs there, and it sends a shiver down his spine.

"Because I'm trying to be good," Crosshair explains. "And you're making it very difficult."

"I'm sorry," you say, but there's a hint of laughter in your voice that tells him you're not sorry at all.

"Don't be," he replies, and then, with a groan, he continues, "you're worth it."

Your cheeks flush, and he has to fight the urge to lean in and kiss you again. He knows if he does, he'll never be able to stop, and he'd prefer not to scandalize the locals. Or worse, have his brothers catch him in the act. So, instead, he takes a deep breath, and he moves his hands from your hips to your waist.

"Come on," he says, giving you a gentle nudge, and you pout.

"Fine," you sigh, and you give him a quick peck on the cheek before sliding off his lap. You stand and dust yourself off, and then, you offer him a hand. He takes it and lets you help him to his feet. You're still holding his hand as the two of you start walking, heading back up the stairs.

"So," you begin, breaking the silence, "when should we have that date?"

"Are you free tomorrow?"

"You don't waste any time, do you?" you tease, and he rolls his eyes.

“I’ve wasted enough time," Crosshair says, his tone serious, and you give him a look of understanding

"Yeah, me too."

"So, tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow.”

The two of you share a smile, and he leads you back through through the courtyard. You walk slowly, and you let go of his hand, but the loss of contact is quickly forgotten when you lean into him, your shoulder brushing against his. He's tempted to wrap his arm around you, to pull you close, but the idea of having an audience for that makes his stomach turn, so he doesn't. Instead, he just enjoys the feeling of you at his side, and the easy way you fit into his space. 

It doesn’t take long to make it to the point where you part ways, and the two of you linger, neither one of you ready to leave the other.

"I guess this is goodnight," you say, your voice soft.

"I guess so."

You reach out and grab his hand, and you squeeze it, giving him a shy smile. He squeezes back, and then, without thinking, he raises your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the back of it.

The flash of embarrassment that follows is enough to make his face heat, but it's worth it for the way your eyes light up, and the faint blush that colors your skin. You duck your head, and the small, pleased smile on your face has his heart racing.

"Goodnight, Crosshair," you say.

"Goodnight."

You turn away, and he watches you go, his eyes lingering on the sway of your hips, and the way your hair dances in the wind. You don’t make it very far before you turn around, a mischievous grin on your face.

"By the way," you begin, your voice raised, and the smirk on his face fades. "Tell Omega I said thank you.”

Crosshair's eyes narrow, and his mouth opens and closes, his mind stuttering as he tries to process the words.

Omega set him up, and you knew, and this entire night was her idea. He'd known, in the back of his mind, that she'd been plotting something, and yet, it hadn't occurred to him until now just how much that entailed.

That little brat.

He can't decide if he's proud or embarrassed. He settles for a combination of the two, and the amused look on your face tells him that he's doing a poor job of hiding his feelings.

"Goodnight, Crosshair," you call out, a teasing lilt to your voice.

"Goodnight," he calls back, his tone flat.

You wave goodbye, and then, with a final, knowing look, you turn around and walk away.

He waits until you're out of sight before letting out a groan. Crosshair runs his hand down his face, and he shakes his head, trying not to think about how many times he'd made a fool of himself tonight. His siblings were never going to let him live this down. He sighs, and then, with a roll of his eyes, he starts walking.

When he makes it home, he finds them already gathered in the living room, talking amongst themselves. Omega’s chosen a chair that faces the front door, and her head snaps over toward him as soon as he walks in. Wrecker and Hunter catch on quick, and the room falls silent, the three of them watching him.

"So, how'd it go?" Omega asks innocently.

Crosshair glares at her, his eyes narrowed. She meets his gaze, a challenging look on her face, and he closes the front door with more force than necessary.

"It went fine."

"Fine?" Wrecker repeats. "That's it?"

They’re all staring at him now, and he can feel his temper rising, the heat of embarrassment rushing to his cheeks, and his fingers twitch, aching to shoot something. He forces himself to calm down, to remind himself they’re only asking because they care. Crosshair relaxes his shoulders, his jaw unclenching, and then, he lets out a sigh.

"Yes, fine," he says, his voice low. "We're going out tomorrow."

The room erupts into cheers and laughter, and Wrecker stands, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. Crosshair squirms, trying to escape, but it's useless.

"Wrecker, let him go," Hunter orders, and Crosshair breathes a sigh of relief when his brother finally releases him.

"Thanks, Wrecker," Crosshair grumbles, only to let out a grunt when Omega barrels into him, her arms wrapped around his waist.

"I told you it would work," she says, and Crosshair reaches down and ruffles her hair.

"Yes, you did," he concedes, and the look of triumph on her face has him rolling his eyes. He sighs and extracts himself from her embrace, and he clears his throat. “She says thanks.”

Omega beams, and Wrecker and Hunter laugh, clapping him on the back. They congratulate him, teasing him, and he bears it as best he can, trying not to show how happy he is even as his heart races, and a warm feeling spreads through him.

He hadn't thought he'd have this again, a family, people who cared about him, and he hadn't dared to hope that he'd find something else, something more. He hadn't even known what he was missing until he met you.

And, for the first time in a long time, he's excited for the future.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

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@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @callsign-denmark

@julli-bee @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland

@marchingviolinist @deerspringdreams

[stellarbit]

hi big fan but too scared to publicly request 😭

could u do the Bad Batch boys reacting to female reader having a boyfriend they didn't know about? like maybe they're on break at the barracks and she starts dressing more revealing and cute and then leaving and they spot her with a man 😭

but ofc, because we love our clones more then other men, something needs to go horribly wrong so she splits up with them and comes back crying or something. you can add whatever twist you want, but (projecting here) perhaps the man was just trying to rush physical things with her and treating her like an object from the beginning and she just wanted to impress him until he started making her uncomfortable. hmm, very specific 🤔

anyway, love your writing so much. thank you 🙏

Your wish is my command

Word Count: 3.3k Pairings: Mostly platonic Bad Batch x fem!reader Warnings: objectifying d-bag bf, lil violence, a beer or two, jealous men Summary: The Bad Batch are back on Coruscant and looking for a night out with you. They find you and your new, unsavory boyfriend.

Frustrated and edged with exhaustion, Crosshair stomped onto the Marauder. He’d spent the last hour scouring the upper level of Coruscant for you to no avail. You’d missed your usual visit with the men of Clone Force 99 when they were on-world.

Visiting you became routine after their first visit to the Capitol. They’d come for special training before they were even assigned their signature armor. Ready for a taste of the real world, they’d snuck out into the city on their first night and right into the arms of swindlers. 

Somehow they’d fallen into the sights of a charming group of people you were all too familiar with. You watched the whole scene unfold from the balcony of your apartment. They promised to show the men a ‘good time’ and you knew that came with some unsavory consequences.

With nothing better planned for your night, you intervened and saved the men from, at the very least, being scammed. It turned out to be an unforgettable night with four new friends to boot and, when leave allowed, they’d find you for some fun.

So, with a few days between mission briefings and not knowing when they’d have leave again, the Batch tried to track you down. The problem was that this time they couldn’t find you anywhere - anywhere being your home or at the store you worked. 

Tech stayed with the ship while the rest looked for you. Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo were the first to turn in, leaving Crosshair to finish the hunt.

Hunter and Echo hung around the cockpit while Wrecker kicked back in a chair near the nav screens when Crosshair returned. As he sunk into the open nav chair next to Wrecker, Tech, wiping his hands on a rag, came aboard. 

Wrecker swiveled to face Crosshair with his head cradled in his hands. “Still can’t find her?”

Leaning onto his elbows, Crosshair growled into his hands. “What gave it away?”

“Did you check her coordinates?” Tech asked, seemingly exasperated by their wasted efforts.

“And how would we check her coordinates?” Echo scoffed from the cockpit. He and Hunter meandered their way towards the other three.

Tech looked between his brothers, disturbed by their blatant ignorance. “With the tracking device I gave her.”

Crosshair’s head shot up, masking his interest with a show of distaste, “You put a tracking device on her?”

Clearly offended by the idea, Tech snapped back, “No.” She wanted to make sure we could find her easily.” The silence that fell between them suggested they didn’t believe him. 

“You were all there.” He insisted, waiting for them to remember only to be met with silence. Sighing, Tech’s shoulders fell and he raised his forearm as he muttered, “Must’ve been when we were alone.”

Wrecker shot forward in his seat, jabbing an accusatory finger at Tech. “When were you alone with her?” The corner of Tech’s lips ticked up as he tapped through his controls, but he didn’t grant Wrecker a response.

They all seemed to forget that Tech kept plenty of information close to the chest. He also tended to be the more sober one of their nights out. They called him a lightweight, but having found it leant him private time with you he called it a fair trade.

After a few seconds, Tech pinpointed your location. Something caught in his throat when he saw how close you were. Tech proudly announced, “Found her. She’s at a lounge one sector over.”

His earlier annoyance faded as Crosshair pushed a toothpick into his smirk, “Sounds like she might need some company.”

“Well boys,” Hunter spoke up with a grin. Tossing a thumb in the direction of the exit he asked the group, “What do you think? Should we crash her night?”

Wrecker bounced up, filling the Marauder with a loud laugh. “You kiddin’? I can’t wait to see the look on her face.”

The men wasted no time in heading your way. Wrecker and Hunter led the group through the crowded streets, followed by Crosshair and Echo with Tech trailing behind with his face in a datapad, making sure they didn’t lose track of you.

Crosshair, noticing Echo’s half-worried look, tapped Echo with his elbow, “Lighten up, Echo. You might have fun for once.”

Used to Crosshair’s prodding, Echo rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the amusement in his voice, “Yeah, well some people don’t like surprises. This is either going to be fine or be a complete disaster.”

“Most likely a disaster.” Tech chimed in from the back.

You were only a few minutes away in a dark, basement floor lounge. Amongst a smattering of half-empty booths and dim lighting, you stood near the bar with a small group of men. 

In the time between Clone Force 99’s last visit and now, you’d fallen in with a man you’d met through work. He was nice enough, persistent in pursuing you and his attention wasn’t unwelcome.

You found yourself answering his calls, meeting his friends, and spending time with him on your days off. Slowly the casual company became intimate and so you stood amongst his friends, in a dark lounge with his hand on the small of your back. The dress you wore, chosen by your new boyfriend, was a little tight for your taste and exposed nearly all of your back.

He claimed it would boost your confidence. The twirling he had you do for his friends suggested it was for his own ego.

Your partner promised you’d be gone by midnight - a promise he’d broken more than once so far. Impatience and boredom dragged the night out, soothed only by cocktails and the bracelet you fidgeted with.

It was a handcrafted gift from Tech and their way to find you. You’d asked for the device in hopes that it would make you miss them less.

It didn’t. You decided that next time you were getting their comm channel out of them even if by force. If there was a next time.

Distracting yourself from the idle conversation around you, your eyes drifted around the mostly empty room. The music was as low as the lighting, only meant to allow conversations to remain private.

The group was having a fun time, some of the jokes even broadened your smile, but generally you were counting the minutes until you could leave. 

Commotion echoed down the front stairwell, breaking the calm of the establishment. Loud, booming laughter quieted your group, piqued your interest, and dialed your attention onto a familiar sound. Your heart stopped when you recognized the sound of shifting armor. For the first time all night, a genuine, albeit hopeful, smile brightened your face.

You stopped breathing all together when the Bad Batch stepped into the room. As impressive as the first time you saw them, your five friends fanned out with each of them scanning the room. Crosshair, ever the eagle eye, spotted you and shoved the brother beside him, Tech, with his elbow.

They were looking for you, you realized. The thought propelled you towards them, your feet barely touching the ground.

You’d not seen the Batch in months. A part of you had worried for the worst - that you’d never see them again. That nagging part of you grew larger than you’d realized, big enough that the relief of seeing them nearly reduced you to tears.

“C’mere, Mesh’la!” Wrecker bellowed, catching you in his arms as you hurled yourself at him. His hands scorched your back, a sensation you’d not felt in the months of their absence.

The harder you held onto Wrecker the more his armor dug into you, making it even harder to breathe through your excitement. When he finally set you down, you immediately latched onto the next closest man, Echo.

The smell of you overwhelmed him for a moment and he had to bite back a groan when he caught a sight of your exposed back. Echo couldn’t even return the gesture before you pulled away and whacked his chest plate. 

Stiffening your lip, you made a poor attempt at a scowl.

Hunter stepped in on you, not hesitating in wiping away your budding tears. “That look says you didn’t miss us too much.” Being so close to you after so long gave him half a thought to kiss you.

“The tears had me fooled,” taunted Crosshair from somewhere beside Wrecker.

Despite the half-assed scowl, a smile broke through and relief warbled your voice. “Do you even know how long it’s been?” You demanded, casting a look between them all.

Tech came to your side, plucking up your wrist for inspection. “Ninety-eight standard rotations.” He said casually, removing your bracelet without looking up.

The anxiety that spiked as he let you go forced your hand to keep him close. Your touch snapped his head up and you tilted towards him, playfully purring, “Aw, you missed me enough to count?”

He opened his mouth, some witty remark surely on his tongue, but a different voice piped up.

“Should I assume these men are your friends?” Your boyfriend said from behind you. You’d all but forgotten where you were and who you were with. 

Immediately releasing Tech, you turned away from the clones, pivoting to stand between them and your partner. Flashing a weak smile you waved in the direction of the Batch, meaning to introduce them.

Crosshair cut you short by stepping forward, putting himself halfway between you and your partner. Sporting a challenging smile, Crosshair looked the stranger up and down. Clearly unimpressed he scoffed, “What’s it to you?”

A pit formed in your stomach when your boyfriend planted his hand on your back. The possessive touch didn’t carry the same flame Wrecker’s did, something you’d not realized up to that point.

“I try to make a habit of knowing my girlfriend’s friends.” Your partner said, accentuating the sentiment with a kiss to your temple.

Slightly horrified Tech recoiled, incredulously parroting in unison with Hunter, “Girlfriend?”

It would’ve been impossible to inform them while they were away, and you certainly owed them no explanation, nonetheless shame crept through you. Avoiding the eyes of your friends, you grinned at your boyfriend, “Let me introduce you to the finest soldiers the Grand Army of the Republic has to offer.” Proudly inhaling your smile grew and you added, “And my friends.”

Looking between your boyfriend and the group, an odd thought occurred to you. You’d never realized the man beside you was on the short side. Shorter even Hunter at least.

Wrecker placed a hand over his chest, mockingly cooing to Crosshair, “Aww, she likes us.” 

Crosshair snorted, when it wasn’t directed at him Crosshair went along with his Wrecker’s goading. Crossing his arms and leaning towards his larger brother, the sniper mused “She’s even blushing.”

Your boyfriend snapped his head towards you, annoyed to see that you were indeed blushing. He’d not seen you get this easily worked up. Although he knew from the moment you ran into Wrecker’s arms that he wanted you nowhere near the men. 

Slowly scanning your form, a condescending smile perked Crosshair’s lips. “Didn’t know that was your style,” He nodded at you, obviously referring to your outfit.

Crosshair never failed to pull a reaction out of you, this time you were  interrupted by your boyfriend slipping his hand up your back and down your arm. The action knotted frustration in your throat as it was what he had done with his friends. 

The longer Crosshair watched this man with his hands all over you, the harder Crosshair bit down on his toothpick. Since you’d first coerced him to dance, Crosshair’s own hands still ached to find their way back to your waist.

And just as he had with his friends, your boyfriend lifted your arm by your hand. He gave you a light jostle, encouraging you to spin around. “It suits her, doesn’t it? I picked it out myself.” 

Where the eyes of his friends felt oily and unwelcome, you only felt heated embarrassment in front of Clone Force 99.

The dress flattered you and you could admit that, at times, you’d imagined how it’d feel for the clones to see you in something like it. You wondered what it would be like for even one of them to see you as more than a friend. To find you attractive. Maybe even want you. But not like this.

Unbeknownst to you, the men did find you attractive. Exceedingly so even. You were a breath of fresh air for them and the only glimpse of normalcy they had. 

As opposed to spinning, you tried to tug your hand free as you mumbled under a smile, “I don’t want to do that.”

Hunter and Echo exchanged a confused look. Just as your boyfriend hadn’t seen this excited side of you, the Batchers hadn’t seen you like this. You looked uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, your boyfriend firmly held your hand. Groaning, he tilted his head back in feigned exhaustion. “Babe,” he dragged the word out before speaking to you like he was correcting a child. “We talked about this, lighten up and give us a spin.” 

Hunter caught you off guard when he pulled your hand free. While he kept his touch soft in light of whatever new boundaries your boyfriend posed, he wasn’t going to watch you be pushed around. Unwilling to risk your discomfort, he made sure to step out of your space quickly.

You almost stepped with him.

“She said ‘no.’” Hunter said with the authority of his rank. 

Your boyfriend scoffed and drew back in disbelief. “I’m sorry, where did you all even come from?” Either out of misplaced bravado or from the liquid courage, he advanced on Hunter. “Don’t speak for her.”

Blinking away the irony, you tried pulling him back. “He wasn’t,” you whispered in attempts to soothe him.

He yanked out of your touch, earning a growl from Wrecker. Raising his voice in challenge, your boyfriend insisted, “No, I think he was.”

Ever the voice of reason, Echo stepped in beside Hunter. “Why don’t we just take a breath?” Echo’s hazel eyes fell to you, brows pulling together in a silent question.

“I’m fine, Echo.”

“You’re fine?” Your boyfriend whipped his irritation around on you. A beat of fury pulsed between you and all you could do was smile awkwardly. How had this escalated so quickly?

“I’m sorry,” You chuckled in astonishment. “What’s going on with you?”

Neither of you backed down, in fact he only pushed harder by angling his face into your space. “What’s going on with me?” The smell of liquor on his breath finally connected the dots for you. “What other friends do you have that I don’t know about?” 

Suddenly, something caught his eye. Turning his attention to Tech, your boyfriend pointed at your bracelet in Tech’s hand. “What are you doing with that?” He asked suspiciously.

Tech, who had been silently picking the stranger apart, gave a scornful roll of his eyes. Tucking the accessory away in one of his many pockets, Tech said in a dry tone, “I don’t believe what I do with my gift is of any importance to you.” He may or may not have purposely mentioned ‘my gift.’

Wearing a confident smirk, Tech looked directly at the man beside you as he said, “It suits her, doesn’t it?”

As if on cue, your boyfriend gave you a seething, sideways glance, playing right into Tech’s hand.

Heaving a sigh, and trying to lend him the benefit of the doubt, you made another attempt at directing him away from your friends. “Why don’t you-”

This time he smacked your hand hard enough that it stung. This was a side of him you’d not expected and it was not one you liked. 

A snarl rippled through Crosshair as he lunged between you, put his hand over your boyfriend’s face, and thrashed him backwards. Wrecker cackled, only encouraging a wicked smile from Crosshair as he shifted over your splayed out boyfriend.

You winced at the spot of blood coming from his nose. Notably, though, you didn’t intervene this time.

Wrecker came around to you, resisting the urge to step the man on the ground by completely passing over him. Gently, he lowered himself to your eye level and lifted your hand. His touch felt so different from that of the man you were seeing, it made you completely forget the feeling in your hand.

They all made you feel so different. You’d missed them much more than you’d realized.

“You alright, Mesh’la?” Wrecker swiped his palm over your cheek and down your neck to rest on your shoulder.

The soft smile you offered him swelled something in Wrecker’s chest. Your presence created a soft spot in his life, making it harder to leave you with each trip.

You laid a hand over the massive one on your shoulder, “I’m fine, really.” Although it probably wasn’t ‘fine’ that you had to reassure them all over the behavior of someone meant to be your partner.

From the ground, the man in question snickered, “I see it now.” Pushing up onto his elbows, he spat, “You’re just a barracks bunny.”

The insinuation was lost on you but not Echo.

Echo lurched through the group, shoved Crosshair aside and ripped the drunken man by his collar. “You little scumslug!”

For what seemed like the first time ever, Echo had to be the one restrained. Hunter broke in and yanked Echo up before he could drill his scomp into the downed man. You and the rest of his squad all wore similarly surprised expressions. 

Seeing Echo lose his temper was the breaking point for you. The man you’d allowed into your life was still panting on the ground when came to stand over him. He didn’t say anything, knowing full well what the look on your face meant.

“Don’t call me again,” You muttered dismissively and said nothing else as you turned to leave, waving for the others to follow. “Let’s go guys.”

They all followed suit, except for Crosshair. He crouched onto the balls of his feet and leveled a sneer to your newly dubbed ex. Low enough for just the two of them to hear, Crosshair said, “We’ll know if you bother her again.” The sniper drew just an inch closer to hiss, “Come near her again and you’ll never see daylight again.”

Crosshair sat still for a moment, ensuring the promise properly sunk in. Having watched the color drain from the man, Crosshair flicked his toothpick into the sad sack’s face.

When you all finally made it back to your place, it was decided that a quiet night in was well deserved for you all. It didn’t exempt the night from at least a few drinks.

Returning from your kitchen with a round of beers, you settled onto your couch between Echo and Tech. Wrecker lounged on the floor while Crosshair and Hunter occupied the remaining arms chairs.

They regaled you with stories from the front lines in exchange for the quiet comfort of your company. Eventually, you reclined against Tech, eyes shut, as he scrolled through his datapad.

“Echo.” You said, seemingly out of nowhere. Peaking an eye open you lilted a suspicious smile his way. 

Mid-sip, Echo could only hum in acknowledgment. When you asked, “What’s a barracks bunny?” He nearly choked on his drink.

“Yeah,” Wrecker blurted out, the confusion coming back to him. “I was wondering that too?”

All eyes were on Echo as a flush came over him. It hadn’t dawned on him that the men of his new squad had little experience with typical trooper slang or the rumors regarding some regs.

“It’s...” He stuttered to get the definition out, ultimately shaking his head and setting his beer aside. Passing the buck to Tech, he chuckled, “You know what, Tech why don’t you put the holonet to good use and look that one up yourself.”

taglist: @baddest-batchers @bruh-myguy-what @jetii @zahmaddog

a/n: Thank you to everyone who offered me their words of support over the last month. It's been a really dark time and I'm always amazed by how lovely this fandom is. I'm forever grateful to all you barracks bunnies out there.