Crosshair Is Rescued And Moves To Pabu With His Siblings. He Has A Hard Time Adjusting To Non-military

Crosshair carried a clone he just met through a white out blizzard in death-causing temperatures in gear not equipped for said weather with no helmet on and just his rifle for support for TWO NIGHTS AND A DAY AND A HALF

Imagine what he’s done for his brothers during their missions during the war. Imagine what he will do on their missions after they’re reunited and he’s atoning for what he did

AHHH these are all so good!! Can I be super gluttonous and get another one??

Putting someone behind them to protect them with CROSSHAIR!? OMG or Fives... no Crosshair.PLEASE?

Absolutely, you may send in more than one request! The more, the merrier!

Haha well you ended with Crosshair, so that's who I'm going with, darlin 😜

"Fake Boyfriend"

7. Putting someone behind them to protect them

Pairing: Crosshair x fem reader

***

After coming back from another tiring mission, you were hanging out with your squad and friends, the Bad Batch, at 79's getting some drinks. The bar was pretty crowded this time and it was starting to get hot inside from everyone there. The boys didn't seem to mind as much. You were sitting next to Crosshair, who had his arm draped over the back of the booth behind you. He might as well have had his arm around you with how close his hand was to your shoulder. The two of you had a habit of flirting with each other all the time, but usually in a joking way that wasn't serious. At least, that's what you told yourself. Because unfortunately for you, you had a feeling it was all just fun to Crosshair, even though it was more real for you. At this point, you just figured there was no point in admitting your feelings and potentially making things awkward with him, especially when it already took a bit of work to break through his shell anyway. You didn't want to undo all the work you'd already done in getting him to open up to you.

You stood up and announced to the boys that you were going to step outside for some air for a second and they acknowledged your decision.

Crosshair reached up and tapped your arm, saying, "Don't be gone too long."

"Why? Will you miss me?" you asked back.

He said nothing, but simply gave you a knowing look that said, "Come on, really?" like the answer to the question was obvious...but it wasn't really.

When you stepped outside, you walked just a little ways down the platform 79's was on to around the corner of the building, your hands in your pockets. The noise of Coruscant air traffic buzzed in your ears along with the chatter of Clones and other people also out on the platform.

A few minutes later, a speeder with a human male atop it pulled up and docked next to you, his eyes trained on you as he parked his speeder almost without even looking. "Well, hey there, beautiful," he spoke to you.

With a deadpan look, you replied, "Can I help you?"

He smirked looked you over in a way that made you want to squirm and you didn't get that way very often. "What's a pretty girl like you doing in this part of town?"

"I fail to see how that's your business," you commented. As he started getting closer, your hand slowly made its way around behind you to where your blaster was holstered just in case.

"You shouldn't be out here alone. I could uh...give you some company," he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.

"She isn't alone," you heard another familiar voice say before you could respond. Just then, Crosshair appeared next to you and he protectively moved you behind him as he stepped forward to face the man in front of you.

The man's suggestive smirk disappeared and he gave Crosshair an unamused look. "Who are you?" he questioned.

Without even hesitating, Crosshair answered, "I'm her boyfriend."

Your body locked up at his response. Did he just say...?

Then he kept going, "She's my girl and I suggest you get back on your speeder and move along...while you still have the ability to drive."

The stranger just scoffed and stated with a dismissive wave, "Whatever." With a huff, he turned on his heel, climbed back on his speeder and sped off.

Once he was gone, Crosshair turned around to face you. "Are you all right?"

You nodded. "Yeah, he didn't do anything. He was just a creep. Thanks for that."

He simply nodded.

"Didn't expect you to pull the 'fake boyfriend' card, though," you told him.

"I thought it's what would get rid of him the fastest," he explained.

For some reason, you had dared to hope that maybe there had been more behind his reasoning, but you should've expected this.

Though, you clearly didn't hide the disappointment in your face well enough because Crosshair then pointed out, "You don't seem content with that answer."

You weren't sure if you could cover up how you really felt at this point, so you admitted, unable to look at him right away, "Well...I don't know, I just kind of hoped that...maybe it could actually be a real thing."

When you looked up at him, his eyes had narrowed slightly. "You...you want that?" he asked, seemingly dumbfounded.

You gave a shy nod and a shrug. "I mean...we flirt all the time and I keep thinking sometimes that maybe you would want something like that, too, but I'm sure it's all been just fun and nothing serious. Which I understand if it is."

"It's not like that."

"Wait, what?"

"I only flirt with you...and I do it because I want to. I'm not good with words and I hoped that maybe I could get my interest across that way."

You were stunned for a moment before saying, "So all this time...you were interested in me?"

He stepped closer to you and took a surprisingly gentle hold of your chin, tilting your head up and touching his lips softly to yours for but a brief moment.

A small sigh left your lips when he pulled back and you replied, "I'll take that as a 'yes', then?"

He snickered. "Was that not enough for you to believe me?"

You smirked back at him. "I might need a little extra convincing."

That was how you found yourself pushed up against the outside wall of 79's and making out passionately with Crosshair...until the rest of the boys eventually came out looking for you both.

"Hey! I thought you said you were coming out to get some air?" Wrecker questioned as you both jumped apart.

"She wanted some of Crosshair's air, it seems," Hunter teased.

The two of you blushed bright red, but the rest of the squad seemed pretty happy about the two of you. You walked back to the Marauder hand in hand with Crosshair...now your boyfriend and you, his girlfriend.

Photogirl894's Physical Affection Prompts

Photogirl894 1,000 followers fics

Comfort and Chamomile

A Bad Batch Fanfiction

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader

Word Count: Aprox. 750

Summary: You're miserable and sick on the Havoc Marauder, and no matter what you do, you can't seem to feel any better. Crosshair takes notice and decides he's not going to ask questions- he's just going to help, and he does it in the best ways possible.

A/N: This is for @fives-girlfriend. Based off your recent posts, I figured you could use a little something. I hope you enjoy and feel better soon, friend!

Taglist: @techs-stitches @nahoney22 @zaya-mo @photogirl894 @erellenora

“Here.” Crosshair held out the bottle of medicine Tech had purchased earlier that day. “Take it.”

“I already did,” you muttered, trying to adjust yourself in the highly uncomfortable chair you had spent the afternoon in. The entire Batch had insisted you rest and recuperate, but no matter where you went in the Marauder, nowhere was comfortable, so you had settled on a chair in the cockpit, where at least you had a decent view. Your joints felt like they were on fire, and every movement caused them to hurt all the more, but in a last stitch effort to get comfortable, you pulled your knees up to your chest, trying to ignore the twisted feeling in your stomach.

“That was 6 hours ago. You need to take more.” Crosshair held it closer to you, but you ignored him, wincing as your sinuses burned with every breath you took. You were sore, in pain, and downright miserable. Logically, you knew you should take the medicine…. But…. You just didn’t want to. You wanted to curl into a ball and just… sleep? Cry? You didn’t know at this point, you were just so drained.

But you saw the concerned look Crosshair gave when he thought you weren’t paying attention and decided to surrender. You reached over and gulped down the dose he offered you, whimpering slightly, both in disgust and pain as the taste lingered in your mouth and your joints screamed in protest of your movement.

Crosshair stood there for a moment before heading towards the back of the ship wordlessly. When he returned, he was almost completely hidden by the large stack of grey and red blankets in his arms. You recognized several of them and realized that there would be multiple Batch members who would awake later and find themselves missing their sleeping amenities, but Crosshair didn’t seem to care. He laid them out in rumpled but fluffy layers on the floor, before disappearing again into the back of the ship. He returned once more, this time with a canteen of some sort in hand, before taking a seat on the veritable mountain of blankets. He motioned you to come over, and you were about to plop down beside him when he pulled you into his lap, the two of you coming almost face to face.

“Crosshair, I don’t want you to get sick!” you protested, but he simply shook his head.

“I don’t care. Now shut up for a minute.” He pulled you into a warm hug, burying his face in your neck, his fingers gently massaging the small of your back as he held you close. You slowly began to relax, resting your head on Crosshair’s shoulder as you just sat there and felt him breathe… slowly… calmly. He’d never ask you to do this- He’d just… well… do it. And you wished he’d do it more.

You winced as a burst of pain shot through your sinuses, the burning sensation that you’d been dealing with all day becoming increasingly noticeable. Crosshair started, realizing your discomfort and he gently helped you turn around and take a seat between his legs on the blanket, your back resting comfortably against his chest as he grabbed an extra blanket and laid it securely over you. He snatched the canteen he had brought in and wrapped his arms around you, opening it in front of you.

The smell of chamomile tea drifted out of it, the warm steam floating up into your burning airways, and soothing them immensely. You relaxed and took several deep breaths as Crosshair held the container under your nose, enjoying the feeling of being able to breathe normally for the first time in hours. You clasped it in your hands, taking it from him, and took a hesitant sip.

Sweet and smooth hot liquid cleansed your pallet, and you sighed, letting your head fall back against Crosshair’s chest. He pulled you close, gently messaging the base of your neck with one hand, the other hand wrapped around your waist. He gently kissed your burning hot temple, stroking your hair back and out of your face. He didn’t scold you or offer any verbal commentary of any sort… but you didn’t need him to. His actions spoke far louder than words ever could.

So, he just held you there in the comfortable silence, as you sipped your tea and listened to him breathe… the aches in your body countered by the warmth of the blankets and Crosshair’s protective, loving embrace… and before long, you drifted into a peaceful and restful sleep in his arms.

Monochrome

Summary: You find your soulmate in a certain sharpshooter. The Empire doesn't like that. Will Crosshair be a good soldier, or will be finally wake up to the truth?

Inspired by the song Monochrome by Babymetal. I listened to the Piano Version the entire time I wrote this.

Pairing: Crosshair x medic!reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: Some angst and violence, mentions of injuries, nonsexual nudity.

A/N: So I lied when I said I'd finish Midnight before writing some clone soulmate stories. I'm not giving up on Midnight, I just need a bit of a break. This was supposed to be a lot longer, but I'm trying to practice keeping things short.

Will probably end up doing a part 2 showing what happens in the middle since there's a lot I skipped.

MASTERLIST

He strikes when you least expect it. 

You’ve just left the fresher, towel wrapped around your body. Your clean clothes are steps away when he materializes out of thin air.  How much had he seen? How long has he been here?

He corners you like a scared animal, your back pressing against the wall. One of your hands desperately clutches at the towel wrapped around you. The last thing you need is it dropping right now. He towers over you, his gaze nothing more than his usual squint, toothpick in its usual place between his lips. His hand raises slowly, coming to rest on your jaw. His thumb presses against your lower lip, the rough material of his glove tugging at it. 

It’s bold. So very unlike him. 

He regarded most nat-borns with little more than seething glances, if he acknowledged them at all. You had seen more than that, though, from him. You’d been the one to care for him after they pulled him off that platform on Kamino. 

Thirty-two rotations there alone. 

He’d come to you almost dead, weak and malnourished. You’d nursed him back to health, while all he’d cared about was getting back to fighting. Of course, you’d expect nothing less from him. It’s what he was made for. 

After that, you had been assigned to his squad, accompanying them on certain missions. He rarely acknowledged your presence, but often you found him staring from afar. When you’d catch him, he’d only narrow his eyes at you before looking away. 

You’ve never been brave enough to confront him yourself. 

“C-Can I help you, sir?” You ask, your voice wavering slightly. His presence does something to you, makes your body buzz with energy you can’t even begin to explain. 

His gaze is hard as he stares down at you, assessing and analyzing like he would a target in the field. You try not to tremble under the intensity of it. 

“I-I’m almost done...if you need the fresher...” Your voice trails off as his hand slides down your neck, closing around your throat. 

He doesn’t squeeze, but he holds enough pressure to keep you still. Your pulse flutters under his fingers, breath hitching as he leans in closer. “You’re afraid.” 

You stare up into his dark gaze, swallowing against his hand. You nod, not trusting your voice. 

“Why?” He asks, the word coming out more curious than condemning. 

“You scare me.” You whisper. It’s not untrue. It’s not just the danger that he poses that scares you about him. 

He continues to stare down at you with that unreadable expression on his face. His eyes pierce right into you, like he can see into your very soul. He lifts his free hand slowly, bringing it to his mouth. He tugs his glove off with his teeth, his hand lowering towards you. 

Your heart rate picks up even more, and you want to duck away from his touch. You can’t move though, frozen watching in slow motion as his hand comes to rest against the skin of your throat, those large hands cupping each side of your neck. 

An electric jolt burns through you as his skin makes contact with yours. The world erupts in color around you, no longer just in shades of black and white. You stare up at his eyes, the most gorgeous shade of brown you’ve ever seen. 

You inhale sharply, staring up into those brown eyes in shock. 

He’s your soulmate. 

Most beings in the galaxy have a soulmate. You’re usually born with your link, or it shows up shortly after. With such a diaspora of species, fate doesn’t usually pair someone with a mate they’d never meet, or would vastly outlive. You had been born with your link, unable to see any color. 

You had spent so much time wondering when you’d meet your soulmate and what they’d be like. You spent years planning a trip around the galaxy in hopes you might run into them. Fate doesn’t pair people together who will never meet. You’d run into them eventually. 

Then the war started. 

After your home planet had been ravished by the war, you’d decided to join as a medic, using your skills to help aid the millions who risked their lives daily to protect the Republic. 

It had been in passing the first time you’d met the clone named Crosshair. You only knew his name because you had overheard part of their conversation. Clone Force 99 had stopped at the same base as your battalion to resupply. You had passed them on your way to help gather supplies for the med bay. 

Your eyes had met for half a second, but it had been enough. Perhaps you had known back then, but your mind had been so focused on the war, you hadn’t thought twice about it. 

Perhaps that had been why you had decided to stay on with the Empire after the war ended. Many hadn’t, choosing to leave instead. You’re not sure what happened to them. You’re not sure you want to know. 

It had simply been fate that you had been chosen to care for him after his rescue. 

You adjust your grip on your towel, holding onto it for dear life. You don’t know what he’s going to do. You couldn’t possibly guess his next move. 

“You’ve never said anything.” He finally says, thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

“I-I didn’t know.” You admit. “Not for sure. A-And if they ever found out...” You swallow thickly, staring up into those intense, dark eyes. “Could you...reject me?” 

His gaze narrows, and for a horrible moment you think he’s going to. Instead he releases you, turning on his heel as he makes his way from the fresher, leaving you alone. Your knees nearly give out. You take a long breath to steady yourself. He hadn’t answered. 

Would he, if they gave him the ultimatum? 

***

You get your answer a few weeks later. 

The squad had been called to some godforsaken planet where the Empire was setting up another base. Why you had been called there was beyond your understanding. Nevertheless, you went along as you were expected to. 

It all becomes clear when you’re cornered on the landing pad. Your squad, and the surrounding troopers turn their blasters on you and Crosshair. You look up at him in fear, and slight anger, but the look on his face tells you he was not expecting this either. He hadn’t been the one to reveal your secret. So who had? Who knew about you two? You hadn’t told anyone.  

Vice Admiral Rampart joins you, looking far too proud of himself. He steps up to you, looking down at you like you’re the absolute scum of the galaxy. “It appears we have a bit of a situation. It has been brought to my attention that you and CT-9904 share a soulmate bond. As you are likely aware, soulmate bonds cause some...unnecessary complications.”

“You don’t have any proof.” You say, your heart pounding in your chest. 

“I don’t need any.” He smirks at you, turning to face Crosshair. “CT-9904, you will reject your soulmate.” 

Your blood turns to ice, your stomach dropping through the landing platform into the very core of the planet. Would he do it? It has to be his decision. 

“It doesn’t work that way.” You blurt out, trying to delay Crosshair’s answer. “You can’t force him. It has to be a willing decision.” 

Rampart keeps his back to you, facing Crosshair. Crosshair’s gaze is on the tarmac, refusing to look anywhere else. You quietly plead for him to look at you, to meet your gaze. Your heart is pounding so loudly in your ears, you think the troopers flanking you might be able to hear it as well. 

“Shame.” Rampart says, drawing a blaster. “You were a good medic.” 

You don’t feel the pain. You’re in far too much shock to feel anything more than the force of the bolt hitting your chest. It’s a sloppy shot, but it’s more than effective as you stumble back, feet leaving the ground as your body falls over the edge of the platform to the ground below. 

***

You’re sticky when you wake, the familiar gummy feel of bacta on your skin, and in your hair. Many times you’ve felt the same on others after a long soak in a bacta tank. 

Now it’s your turn. 

You feel groggy, eyes slowly peeling open. Sedatives, most likely, so you didn’t wake panicking in the bacta tank. 

You’re lucky you’re waking at all. 

You remember the blaster shot. It was a sloppy one, hitting you to the side of your chest. If it had been to the left, or even centered, things would have been worse. It had sent you backwards off the landing platform. You had fallen unconscious before you hit the ground below, which is likely what saved your life. Fifteen feet, or so you had to guess. 

You remember waking momentarily on the ship. Crosshair was with you. He had been looking down at you, nothing but pain and guilt on his face. That had been the last thing you’d seen before waking now. 

The world around you is blurry, but you can’t mistake the sterile white of a med bay. You can’t feel much of anything aside from a slight ache in the back of your head. You lift a hand to your face, rubbing your eyes. 

You hear someone approach, a figure stopping next to the bed. 

“Oh good. You’re awake.” They say. 

You recognize that voice. You pull your hand away from your eyes, blinking up at a face you’ve seen probably half a million times. You sit up in bed with a gasp, beginning to panic. Had the Empire realized you’re alive and taken you somewhere? What about Crosshair? Had they decommissioned him already? 

“Easy.” A hand falls on your shoulder. It’s gentle, trying to get you to lay back down. “You’re safe here.”

You let the clone medic ease you back down into the bed. “Where?” You ask, your voice rough from your dry throat. 

“I can’t say exactly, but you’re not with the Empire. This is a safe place for clone deserters set up by Captain Rex.” He runs a quick scan of your body. “You’re perfectly safe here.” 

You lean up on your elbow, motioning towards the monitor. “Let me see. I’m a medic.” 

He turns the monitor towards you, showing you a side by side of what was most likely a scan when you arrived, and then one now. You wince as you look at the scan before your soak in the bacta tank. 

“You were in bad shape.” He says. “Few more minutes and you might not have made it.” 

“I’m shocked I made it at all.” You say. By all rights, you shouldn’t have. You weren’t supposed to. 

“You had some intervention on the way here.” The medic says. “Without it, I don’t think you would have.” 

You glance around the med bay, but it’s just you and the medic. Did Crosshair bring you here? How had he known about this place? Did he leave you here? 

You’re beginning to feel a tug in your chest, a yearning to see him again. Had he initiated the bond? If he had intervened to try and save your life, he must have done it out of necessity. If you’re beginning to feel it, he must really be feeling it. 

After some negotiation with the clone medic, Nitro you learned his name is, he clears you to at least take a shower. You know from the scans you’re more than fine to be up and moving around. All you have is some residual pain from your injuries which would be gone in a few hours. 

You follow his directions towards the freshers, but you don’t really need them. You follow the tugging in your chest, listening as it gets stronger and stronger. You pause outside one of the fresher doors, glancing both ways down the hall before stepping in. The door isn’t locked, almost like it’s an invitation. 

There’s steam hazing the room, but you can still see him. He’s in the shower, hands pressed against the wall in front of him. The spray hits the top of his head, water cascading down his body. 

Your hands shake as you begin to pull off your clothes. You’re taking a risk. He’d stop you, though, if he wanted to. He knows you’re there, even if he hasn’t looked at you. He’s too good of a soldier not to. 

You step into the shower behind him, slowly wrapping your arms around his slim waist. You can feel the lean muscle, every ridge of it as you press your face against his back. Warmth floods through you as you make contact with him, easing the tugging in your chest. He lets out a long breath, probably feeling the same. 

“You didn’t reject me.” You say, flattening your hands against his stomach. 

“They tried to kill you.” He says, voice devoid of any emotions. 

“They almost did.” You say, pressing yourself closer to him. “You defected for me.” 

One of his hands drops to gently rest against yours on his stomach. “I did a lot more than that.” 

You can tell by the tenseness of his shoulders, it’s not going to be a pleasant retelling later. You press a gentle kiss to the tan skin, closing your eyes as the water sprays over you both. 

He spins around, startling you at the sudden movement. Your back presses against the wall of the shower as you look up at him, his body blocking the spray as he looms over you. His hand comes to rest against your jaw, a mirror of when you’d discovered your soulmate link. You lift a hand, wrapping it around the back of his neck. 

You both move seamlessly, meeting each other in the middle as your lips press together. Warmth blooms beneath your skin, your nerves buzzing with electricity and energy. He presses closer, every inch of your bodies touching. You want to pull him closer, you want to draw him into your very soul.

He lifts you easily, your legs wrapping around him as he uses the wall to hold you in place. His lips leave yours, his face pressing into your neck. You wrap yourself tighter around him, holding onto him like he might disappear if you let go. 

You know he won’t. 

Neither of you are going anywhere.

Taglist:

@stressed-cherry

The Bad Batch season 2 did a number on my heart. Be ready for some Crosshair fanarts XD

I really hope he gets to be happy at least a little bit in season 3. He so deserves it.

————————————–

❤❤❤Reblogs are love❤❤❤

❌❌❌Don’t use, repost, copy, modify! Thank you! ❌❌❌

strung wires [crosshair x reader]

pic credit: @starqueensthings

content: sexual tension, slight degradation/teasing, vaginal fingering, implied p in v sex, crosshairs a fucking tease, use of the nickname 'princess' once

it's crosswhore hour babes lets gooo

THIS POST CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT. IF YOU ARE NOT 18+ DNI

find here on ao3 ~ wanna be notified every time i post a fic? join the taglist here!

You're so sick of it. So sick of him.

Stupid Crosshair with his stupid little smug smile he always has on and those doggedly piercing eyes. Eyes that always without fail have a sparkle of cheekiness in them even as he growls. That mouth and soft lips and that slick tongue of his that won’t ever shut up or give you peace for more than a few hours.

Everything about him is so damn infuriating, so damn frustrating, so. Damn. Attractive.

Crosshair is catastrophically charming, and the fool kriffing knows it. He sees right through your act; how flushed you get, your cheeks pink with embarrassed flattery barely hidden behind your hands, your frustrated huffs turning into sickeningly smitten smiles the longer you stare at him from across a room.

He's got you in a chokehold; one you can't get out of no matter how stubbornly you try to push him away and out of your brain, and you're going to tear your skull apart if you are stuck any longer.

"Can you help me out here?" you hesitantly have to ask him one day, reaching high up for a box on a storage shelf. If one of the other members of Clone Force 99 were around, you would ask for their help. Anything but to avoid this itch of a man in your head.

"Aw," Crosshair coos. He creeps up from his seat, letting his rifle lean on the cushion as he walks up to you, so casual and composed, everything you’re not in this moment. "Does the princess require my assistance?"

You automatically, instinctively scowl and let out an ugly snarl.

"Yes," you sigh while rolling your eyes. He laughs through his teeth and you glare.

“Such a shame,” He says rather smug; you frown.

"Can you just shut up and do it?" You snap.

He looks at you with a deadpan but knowing look before taking two big strides toward you, a commanding disdain radiating off of his body. You shiver, almost pleasantly; the feeling is avidly discomforting.

"A please would be polite, you know," he hisses.

Through trembling, claustrophobic breaths, you let a 'pfft' noise fall past your lips.

"Like you're ever polite," you shoot back.

Without taking his eyes off of you, sinister and stern, he takes another step toward you; his chest would press against yours if you were to move even just an inch closer. He brings an arm up, inadvertently caging you in, as he grips the box you were trying to grab with only one hand and presents it to you, practically mirroring a fine meal on a silver platter.

Not once, do your eyes separate, as you take the box from him, and he turns and walks back to his rifle, taking it and going back to his cot without another word.

***

The next time you ask for a helping hand, it ends differently.

You’re in the same position as before, pinned between him and the cold steel of the Marauder, a hand placed above you, caging you in, gripping the walls you would a sheet, and the other hand two fingers deep in your cunt. Well, that part is certainly new. Not that it's a bad addition; if anything, it frees the tension.

“Shush, would you?” He whispers harshly into the shell of your ear when you moan, slowly rocking his fingers inside of you. You whine louder, just to spite him, and clutch onto his shoulders, nails digging into his blacks; if you’re to scratch any harder, the fabric is bound to tear.

Without warning, he dives down and slots his lips with yours. Your eyebrows raise and you squeal weakly against him, but he only readjusts to keep you more still.

It's dizzying, so incredibly disorienting; he feels exactly as you thought he might, strangely soft and sentimental, but rough and harsh all the same, eyes scrunched with focus and his breath coming out in inconsistent intervals. You can feel yourself getting lost in his body, in his simple presence. But he pulls away before you're gone completely and hisses into your mouth,

“We don’t want to wake anyone else up, do we?”

Despite the criticism, he continues working you; curling his fingers into your g spot he found only moments before once, twice, three times until you gasp.

“Fuck,” You hiss, forehead pressing the crook between his shoulder and neck with a billowing rush of shame.

You can’t stop yourself; the sensible part of you wants to push away, stop yourself from indulging in such wicked pleasure from an even more wicked man, but when you feel his breath brushing against your jaw, groaning pleasantly into you all from the pleasure he’s dishing out, the pleasure he simply gives, you know you’re certainly doomed.

“C'mon. Keep taking it, girl,” Crosshair encourages you. A third finger teasingly circles the lips surrounding where he pushes into you, a warning of what's to come. "`Know you can do it."

A feather-light kiss, open-mouthed and sloppy lingers on the soft skin of your neck, and his eyelashes flutter against you as he thrusts his fingers into you another time; you sob silently into his shoulder.

Then you feel it again. That stupidly charming smirk etched onto your body forevermore.

“Keep taking it `till you’re ready for my cock.”

You whine one last time, clenching hard around his fingers and pressing your palm to your mouth; it barely stifles the noises you make, but with his own sounds escaping his mouth, you doubt anyone will make your shameful ones out in the white noise.

He's got you trapped real good.

dividers by @saradika ~ tags: @pb-jellybeans

@superiorsniper would you buy this beauty just to piss of someone?

unspoken confessions / crosshair x gn!reader

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

description: you and crosshair are already close, what’s a little closer?

word count: 7,435

warnings: making out – lots and lots of kissing really. mostly fluff with some light angst (if you squint).

it took me a while to love this piece – and i mean like actually like over a month. i was very close to just scrapping the whole thing bc something wasn’t working. so i’m really happy i pushed through and got it to a place where i’m happy and proud of it <3

also posted this on ao3. some of you may have already read it on there sorry i’m posting this a few days late. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated <3

The Marauder sat in an Alderaanian landing bay as the Batch stopped to repair, refuel and replenish supplies after their last recon mission. And you and Crosshair were still arguing about the outcome of your ongoing contest.

Confined to the cockpit on Tech’s instruction while he patched up the hull from droid blaster shots, both of you were in the pilot seats. Crosshair’s feet were kicked up on the control panel, toothpick dangling from his lips with his arms crossed. You sat to his right; the chair turned to face his profile as you sat cross-legged.

“The headshot on that droid was Tech’s, not yours,” Crosshair shook his head, moving the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.

“I’m telling you; it was mine,” you leaned back in your seat and propped up your feet in Crosshair’s lap looking at him with a smirk. “What good are those enhanced eyes if you can’t see me when I beat you?”

“You didn’t beat me, sarad,” Crosshair shook his head, a smile pulling at his lips as he pushed your feet off his lap playfully. “Just admit you lost.”

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a tender homecoming / crosshair x gn!reader

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

description: in which a tired crosshair returns home to you.

word count: 3,334

warnings: non-explicit nudity (i guess), mild sexual references. otherwise, this is just soft domestic fluff with crosshair.

seeing crosshair on mount tantiss broke my heart, and i couldn’t get the idea of crosshair loving having his hair washed out of my head either. so i wrote this <3 there are also not enough soft crosshair fics out there, so i’m on a mission to remedy that. 

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated <3

The sun had just set on Coruscant, and a holo was playing in the background as you did the dishes, humming quietly. It had been a long day, your boss had been breathing down your neck all day, and it was nice to finally be home in your little apartment, relaxing. You’d gotten home a couple of hours ago, had a shower, made yourself dinner, poured a drink, and caught up on some of your favourite holodramas.

Spending time alone was something you’d grown used to. You enjoyed it, but it was hard to ignore the moments when you missed him.

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You Had One Job.

Crosshair x F!Wife!Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Established Relationship, Dry/Rude Humor, Mentions of Blood

Summary: When Crosshair risked his life to send his brothers and wife a message, he expected them to heed his warnings. He should have known that his family never does things the way they're supposed to.

A/N: You know when you can never find a fanfic with your specific idea in mind so you write it yourself? That's what this is. This is purely self indulgent, and I'm not apologizing. Happy reading!

"Keep moving, traitor!" The trooper shouted from behind her, and pushed his blaster to her back for good measure.

"Wasn't planning on stopping, asshole." She mumbled to herself. The corridor was dark. The only real source of illumination was the blood-red ray shields containing what must have been hundreds of clone troopers. How could they do this to the men that fought for them so valiantly, not even a year prior? It disgusted her that the Empire was willing to treat its own soldiers this way.

"Stop here." One of the troopers finally barked. She stopped and turned towards the ray shield, but the cell was different than the others. It looked almost like an office. In the center of the room, a man leaned on the desk with a pleased smirk on his face. As the ray shield lifted and she was shoved in the room, she analyzed his face. He had a chiseled jawline, cold blue eyes, and slicked back hair as dark as his aura.

"Ah, the legendary Mrs. (Y/N) (L/N). How wonderful to finally meet you." He smiled. His voice was just as eerily calm as the look in his eyes. She couldn't quite place his intentions.

"Dr. Hemlock, I presume?" She asked.

He let out a slight chuckle. "I am surprised you know that. Very few do."

"Wasn't easy to find out. I actually came here to kill you, but your troopers here took my weapons." The doctor circled her menacingly, as if he was analyzing her.

Hemlock released the handcuffs strangling her wrists and motioned for her to sit. "I'm sorry they ruined your plans. But you and I both know you don't need a weapon to kill me. You could do it right now if you wanted to." As she sat tentatively, he sat on the chair opposite her side of the desk. "And it's getting ever more tempting by the moment, I bet." He teased. She forced herself to appear relaxed, but something about this man felt off.

"I have more self-restraint than that, Doctor."

"Clearly you don't have as much as you think."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Gladly." Hemlock placed a recorder before her and pressed the button.

Plan 88. They're after Om-

Plan 88. They're after Om-

Plan 88. They're after Om-

Hemlock let the transmission play a few times, allowing her husbands plea to mock her. He took pleasure in the way she became visibly uncomfortable at the sound of her husbands voice.

"I understand. It must have been hard when he abandoned you." If looks could kill, Hemlock would have been slowly crushed under the weight of a tank.

"You don't know him." She hissed. He nodded his head regretfully.

"Correct. Which is what I'm hoping you can help me with." Hemlock stood behind her and bent down so he spoke directly into her ear. "How do I get him to talk?"

"Did you try saying 'please'?" She said sarcastically.

The doctor released a heavy sigh and stood tall again. "I like you, Mrs. (L/N). You're quite funny. But humor and a pretty face will not help you here."

Despite the threat behind his words, she couldn't help but snort. "You really think I'm pretty?" This time, the Doctor did not laugh. He turned to face her again and grabbed her chin, harshly forcing her to look at him.

"Not for long." He said calmly. As he drew his hand away, the woman saw an opportunity. As hard as she could, she bit the Doctor's finger and refused to let go. His yelp of pain alerted the troopers standing guard outside the room. It took both of them to pull her teeth from his finger.

As Hemlock cradled his bleeding hand, she spat his blood and skin from her mouth with a red-stained grin. "Go fuck yourself, Doctor." The last thing she remembered was a harsh force to the back of her head, and falling to the ground.

-

Growing up, Crosshair believed there were two kinds of soldiers: brave, or stupid. Then he met his wife and learned there was a third option: ballsy. He never considered himself one to shy away from a fight, but he'd never met a woman as daring as her. That was once a trait he admired. Hell, it may even be the one that made him fall in love with her. But now, as he watched his wife's unconscious body be thrown into his prison cell, covered in the blood of a fight she undoubtedly started, he wished dearly that she was a coward.

He forced himself to stay seated on the ground until the troopers left. The moment the ray-shield reactivated, he crawled to her awakening body and held her close.

"(Y/N)? Can you hear me?" He cradled her head in his lap like she was made of glass and delicately brushed her tangled hair from her face. "Wake up, you di'kuit!" He inspected the blood seeping from her mouth, and couldn't help the proud feeling was over him as he realized it wasn't hers.

"Crosshair?" She croaked weakly. She felt like she was dreaming. After a year of being away from him, she finally lay cradled in his arms.

Upon hearing her voice, He helped her sit up and began inspecting her body for injuries. "Are you hurt?" He asked. She had never heard him speak with such concern. Sure, he'd been worried for her before. That was only natural in their line of work. But this wasn't worry. This was genuine fear.

"I'm okay," she assured him. "I'm okay." Her words calmed him. However, as his adrenaline wore off, the realization set in

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" He whispered loudly.

Well at least now she could be sure it wasn't a dream. That was definitely her Cross.

Like a child, she swatted his hands away from her face and pouted. “I was trying to save you!”

He looked around the cell, and back at her. “Well, you've done a great job, mesh’la.” He leaned back from his squatting position and sat against the wall opposite her. They stared at each other in tense silence for a moment. "You turned yourself in?"

"Please, you think these new 'stormtroopers' could bring me in by themselves?" His face expressed that he was clearly not pleased with his lovers actions.

"Could you explain to me how 'plan 88' translates to 'turn yourself in to the empire'?" He deadpanned.

She snorts. "Oh please, a warning is just a dangerous challenge."

Her carelessness did little to relieve his frustration. "Dammit, (Y/N) you had one job!" He snapped. Feeling his anger begin to take over, he took a deep breath and pinched the top of his nose. "I told you to run."

"And I told you to stay, so I guess know we're even." She rebutted bitterly. She didn't mean to say it, but the way that he reprimanded her like a child enraged her.

Her spiteful response surprised him. He went silent in shame. He never meant for any of this to happen. He wanted so desperately to go back in time. To stand in front of her on that Kaminoan platform one more time and hold her close. To tell her that he would never leave her side again. But unlike his lover, time was not so forgiving. "I'm sorry." He whispered so quietly she barely heard him.

She regretted her words as soon as she saw him shrink like a wounded dog. With a sigh, she scooted across the room until she was sitting next to him. "I really missed you." She said quietly. He looked up at her beautiful warm eyes with his own and practically melted. She cautiously rested her head on his shoulders and relished in the familiar feeling. For the first time a very long time, he allowed a tear to fall from his eyes. He couldn't bring himself to look down at her. Instead he opted to stare at the ceiling in hopes that gravity would keep his tears at bay. He didn't deserve this. Her forgiveness. He hurt her badly, and somehow she was able to act like nothing had happened. Why was she so good to him? Hesitantly, he leaned into her warmth and placed his hand over hers. When she didn't recoil, he felt a wave of emotions overcome him.

"I'm so sorry." He said quietly. "You deserve better."

She lifted her head from his shoulder and smiled up at him. "You are better." She responded.

He was sure he had never been more in love with her.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked.

Instead of responding, she gently held his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his. It wasn't like their kisses used to be - passionate and hungry. This time, his lips slowly and tenderly molded into hers with nothing but pure love. With every second that went on, his body and mind relaxed more and more. He could taste the dried blood from her mouth, but even that didn't bother him.

Suddenly, a familiar imperial alarm began sounding off, followed by emergency lights flashing. The desire in his eyes faded, and confusion took it's place. His wife, however, looked completely unfazed.

"What did you do?" He asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"Remember that digestible tracker Tech was always working on?"

"Please tell me you didn't swallow a tracker."

"He made it meiloorun flavored!" She smiled.

As if on cue, the ray shield to their cell disappeared. "They boys are right on schedule." She stood and offered him a hand to do the same. While he struggled to regain his balance, her grip on his hand remained. "Welcome back to Clone Force 99, my love."

He gawked in amazement at his wife. This woman had been tortured, abandoned, betrayed and humiliated by him. And yet here she stood, after breaking into a top secret imperial base, with her hand extended and a still-bloody smile on her face. (Where that blood came from, he still wasn't sure.) If he could marry her twice he would. "Fuck, I love you so much." He exhaled as he wrapped himself in her embrace and felt relief for the first time in a long time.