AHHH These Are All So Good!! Can I Be Super Gluttonous And Get Another One??

Okay I’m currently furious that migraines are often so blindly easy to treat and I had to find this out myself at the age of 26 when I’ve been to a neurologist since I was 11 lol so I’m about to teach you two neat and fast little tricks to deal with pain!

The first is the sternocleidomastoid muscle, or the SCM muscle.

This big red section is responsible for pain around the eye, cheekbone, and jaw, as well as some temple pain. Literally all you have to do is angle your head down a little, angle it away from the side that hurts, and then you can gently pinch and rub that muscle. I find it best to start at the bottom and travel upwards. The relief is so immediate! You can increase pressure as you feel comfortable doing so.

Here is a short and easy video showing this in action

The second is a fast and easy stretch that soothes your vagus nerve, which is the nerve responsible for calming you down. The vagus nerve, for those unfamiliar, is stimulated by deep breathing such as yawning, sighing, singing, or taking a deep breath to calm your anger in a tense situation.

You can stretch this out by sitting up as straight as possible (this does not have to be perfect to work) and interlacing your fingers. Put your hands on the back of your head with your thumbs going down the sides of your neck and, while keeping your face forward, look all the way to one side with just your eyes. Hold that until you feel the urge to breathe deeply or yawn, or until you can tell there’s a change. Then do the same thing on the other side. When you put your arms down, you should clearly be able to turn your head farther in both directions. If the first session doesn’t get rid of your migraine, rest and repeat as many times as necessary. I even get a little fancy with it and roll my eyes up and down along the outer edge sometimes to stretch as much as I can.

If you need a visual here’s a good video on it. I know some of the language they use seems questionable but this is real and simple science and should not be discarded because it’s been adopted by the trendy wellness crowd!

I seriously cannot believe I didn’t hear a word of this from any doctor in my life. Additionally, if you get frequent recurring migraines, you may want to see a dietician. Migraines can be caused by foods containing histamines, lectin, etc. and can also be caused by high blood pressure in specific situations such as exercise, stress, and even sex.

If any of this information helps you I’d love to hear it btw! It’s so so fast and easy to do. Good luck!

Despite everything.

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

May i please request angst then comfort with crosshair? preferably where reader is the one going through it?

Ooo, yes! I saw an opportunity for this and I took it 👀

Conflicted

Crosshair x Jedi!Reader

A/N: couple things - this is not canon complaint lmao. Crosshair doesn’t stay bad and it’s implied heavily that his actions at the start of season 1 are fully due to the inhibitor chip. Hope you all enjoy!

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: order 66, angst, near death experiences, fear of death, crosshair is kinda scary at first, hurt comfort, then lots of fluff and happy ending!

The snow shifts unevenly beneath your feet, the only sound being your rapid footsteps, ragged breathing, and the frantic pants of breath from the padawan ahead of you. 

And your name. The not so distant echoing calls of your name from the sergeant of the clone force you commanded. 

“Go Caleb!” You call out to the young boy ahead of you, catching the fearful gaze he casts over his shoulder. “I’ll distract them. Go, run as far as you can!” 

You both slide to a stop on the steep incline you have been retreating down, the forest eerily silent around you. 

You see him hesitate - can feel it through the force. But eventually, he listens, fixing you with one last wary look before taking off deeper into the trees. 

When you can no longer see him, you finally stop to take stock of your surroundings, trying to calm the erratic beating of your heart and make sense of what you witnessed just moments earlier. 

The clones, they…they killed her. And now they want to kill you. 

The crunching of snow snaps you back to reality, and you leap up to the nearest tree branch, sitting stone still as a familiar clone appears where you just were. 

Hunter. Your sergeant, one of the men you trusted most, hunting you down. 

You watch as he stoops to a crouch, fingers brushing lightly over the snow on the ground, fingers rubbing together as he studies your tracks. 

He stands once more, scanning the area before calling your name softly. 

“I promise, I don’t want to hurt you. Whatever this is…I’m just as confused as you are.” 

You listen to his words, reach out silently through the force and are stunned to detect the truth of his words. 

You want to believe him, you want to trust him, but the blatant absence of a certain sniper makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

You can’t trust him. You can’t trust anybody. 

The ignition of your light saber fills your ears as you jump down from your hiding place, keeping your blade between you and your pursuer. Hunter doesn’t startle much, unsurprising since he probably knew where you were the whole time. 

“Commander, stop!” 

You shake your head. “Don’t make me hurt you Hunter,” you plead, “Just walk away!” 

His helmet turns side to side, and you tense as he reaches for his blaster. But instead of pulling it out to aim at you, he grasps it with two fingers and tosses it to the side, far from reach. His viroblade too. 

You watch in confusion as he holds his hands up, effectively surrendering to you. 

“I told you. I’m not going to hurt you, I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on, just like you!” 

He steps closer, and you take several steps back. “Don’t!” You call out, lightsaber held out defensively. “Don’t come any closer.” 

He holds his hands out towards you now, palms up, begging. “Please Commander, you have to believe me.” 

You want to. You so desperately want to. And for a split second…you do. You power down your weapon, eyes tracing his visor. 

You hear him sigh, relieved he’s deescalated the situation. 

Until a blaster bolt flies through the trees. You barely dodge the fatal blow, the bolt grazing your arm instead of burning through your chest. 

The pain is intense, but not as bad as the emotional pain you feel as you tumble to the snow, gaze trained on the Sergeant. 

You see Crosshair emerge from the trees behind Hunter just as you send the Sergeant back into a nearby tree. You don’t stay to see if he stays down. 

The snow is frigid beneath your fingers as you scrabble to your feet, calling your lightsaber to you as you dart further into the trees, further away from the voice you’ve come to love calling your name. 

The tears come without warning, blurring your vision as you stumble aimlessly through the forest. Dodging blaster fire, and trying to ignore the pain each one sends straight to your heart. 

Crosshair is going to kill you. 

It’s too much. All of it. The emotion bubbling in your chest, the pain in your arm, your tears freezing on your cheeks. And when you finally stumble out of the tree line, rocks beneath your feet and the sound of rushing water just feet away…you feel it. 

The force shattering around you, fractured and falling silent and yet filled with anguish at the same time. 

You barely manage to turn back to face the forest before you collapse to your knees. 

It feels as if all the fight has left you, the force falling quieter and quieter as time slips by. You can’t even find it in you to light your weapon when Crosshair emerges from the darkness of the forest, path sure and unrelenting. 

You thought he would just end it, raise his rifle and execute you where you kneel. But he doesn’t. He pauses several feet from you, close enough that it's impossible to miss, but far enough away you can’t reach him. 

He holds his rifle lazily at his side, reaching up with his free hand to pull his helmet off. He looks at you silently, eyes void of any of the mirth and life you’re used to. 

This is Crosshair on a mission. A mission to kill. A mission he won’t fail. 

You could kill him. You could. You could rip his weapon from his hands with the force, or easily toss him into the gorge behind you. 

But you won’t. You can’t. Not truly. 

Because despite the fact that he’s about to be your end. You still…you still love him. Just as fiercely as you have all this time. 

Looking up at him, there’s a million things you want to ask. But all of them only accumulate to one wobbly word. 

“Why?” You ask, eyes searching his own lifeless ones for an answer. 

His answer is immediate, the same thing you heard the other clones chant before slaughtering Master Billaba. 

“In accordance with Order 66, all Jedi must be eliminated.” The words lack any power as he says them, almost robotic as he brings his weapon into both hands. 

“Crosshair, please.” 

You choke out the plea, throat clogged with tears as you watch him raise his weapon. 

“Good soldiers follow orders,” He intones, finger sliding slowly over the trigger. 

“But you’re not just a soldier!” 

The words slip from your lips before you can think about them, and they make the man before you pause. 

His finger twitches, and you visibly flinch at the action. But he never pulls back all the way back. The gun wavers in his hand, aim shaky as he fights with…something. 

You move to stand, legs quaking beneath you as he jerks his weapon to follow you. But his lips are set in a hard line, jaw ticking with effort. 

“Good…soldiers follow…orders.” 

He practically grinds the words out, shoving his rifle towards you as if trying to convince himself of his own words. So you push on, hoping you can get through to him. Make him see. 

“Crosshair, please.” You beg again, noticing how he avoids your own gaze. “Look at me.” 

He does, and you see something flash through his eyes. Recognition, fear, guilt…you’re not sure. But you latch onto it. 

“It’s me. It’s me, Cross - whatever this is, fight it!” 

His eyes snap closed, and he shakes his head hard. 

“The Jedi are Traitors, they must…” he trails off, physically trying to fight what he’s saying. “Execute order 66. Those were the orders.” 

He looks at you again, and that flash…that little glimpse of Crosshair, the real Crosshair…

It’s gone. 

You feel the barrel of his rifle press against your chest, and this time…you don’t fight it. Instead you look the sniper directly in the eyes, your own full of sadness. 

“Do it Cross.” You tell him, resigned to your fate. 

He’s still hesitating, finger still twitching over the trigger. But with how close he is now, you’re able to reach a hand out and place it over his own that rests on the barrel of the gun. 

You let your eyes slip closed as your hand slides over his, still able to feel the warmth despite the glove that separates you. 

“I love you,” you whisper, squeezing his hand and pouring into him everything you have left with the force. 

He has to know that. 

You expect it then. The pain, the heat, the fear as death rips through you. 

But it never comes. Even when you feel the cold metal press harder into you before disappearing all together, you still expect death. 

But instead of the painful heat you expect, a gentle warmth engulfs you. Solid plastoid meets your chest as two familiar arms wrap around your waist. 

Everything assaults you at once. The despair. The shock. The guilt…the guilt most of all, slams into you harder than you ever imagined. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” the gentle apologies are muttered into the fabric of your robes from where his head now rests against your shoulder. 

You can feel his fingers digging into your sides as you finally open your eyes. 

You’re alive. You’re alive and Crosshair didn’t kill you and his gun is lying yards away as he holds you instead. Yet despite this, you can’t help the fear that still grips you. Can’t help the way your heart stutters in your chest. 

“Cross?” 

Your nickname for him slips out in a terrified whisper, and he only clutches you tighter before pulling away just enough so you’re face to face. 

Crosshair has never been emotional, hiding behind his snide comments and holier than thou mindset. 

But now…it’s more than you’ve ever seen from him since joining the batch. Even when you began your relationship he was never emotionally open. But right now he looked just as terrible as you felt. Horrified and worried all at once. 

His hands come up to your face, thumbs wiping away the tears you didn’t realize were falling again as his eyes flick hastily over you. 

“I…I don’t know what happened I couldn’t…control it.” He finally says, voice quiet. “I saw everything I was doing but I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop it.” 

You let yourself cry now, fully and unabashedly. You don’t fully understand what happened. Still don’t. But if what he’s saying is true…

It wasn’t him. And whatever it was…he fought it off. To save you. 

He pulls you closer again, and this time you reciprocate, wrapping your arms around him as if afraid to let him go. 

“It’s okay,” you tell him gently, sagging into him fully as he presses a soft kiss to your temple. “You fought it. You saved me.” 

He tensed at that, and you can sense he doesn’t quite believe your words. But he doesn’t let you go, holding you close and rocking you both gently back and forth as you both hold one another. 

You hear your name from a distance, and you’re silently thankful that Hunter is apparently alive and well enough to come searching for you again. 

The batch would find you both soon enough, and after that…

You don’t know. 

The Jedi are gone. The clones turned against them. You don’t know what the future holds, for any of you. 

But as Crosshair continues to hold you close, muttering assurances in your ear…

You know you won’t face it alone.

Hey, can I please request crosshair x jedi!fem reader

Friends to lovers where they have a sparring match together and then realise they like each other? ty so much <33

hehehe this was cute and fun to write

Crosshair wipes blood from his lip after the most recent blow.

“I thought we were pulling punches, cyare,” He sneers, growing more and more annoyed at this sham of a training session. 

He doesn’t even understand why he has to train one on one, he’s the sniper of the group and rarely ever actually sees the action up close. It’s quite literally his job to be removed from it and stay vigilant. 

“I was,” you chuckle, “You just leaned into it.” 

He readies his stance again, knuckles taped and ready.

“What does that mean, cyare?”

He smirks.

“What, they don’t teach you Mando’a in Jedi school? Just little magic tricks?”

You push him back with the force, and then bounce from foot to foot, switching your stance to let him try and get another shot in.

“All magic tricks, Cross.”

He charges, and you block, but just barely. You pivot to avoid another blow, and then manage to get the upper hand when your elbow lands between his shoulder blades. 

“How about a bet?” you propose, trying to keep your voice even so he doesn’t know you’re catching your breath. He straightens up, rolling his shoulder back beneath his blacks. 

“I’m listening,” he says. He turns to look at you, something unreadable in his expression that you can’t exactly place. Reading emotion was never your strong suit, practice with the force or not. 

“If I win this round you have to tell me what that means,” you state plainly. He’d been calling you ‘cyare’ for days without letting you know what it meant, his brothers all giving you looks each time but none of them actually helping you out and explaining the new nickname. Crosshair’s eyes search your face for a moment, furrowed brows warping his tattoo slightly. 

“And if I win?” he asks, of course. He’s gotta have an angle in this too.

“I don’t know,” you admit, you hadn’t really been thinking before you spoke, “Anything I guess.”

Famous last words. 

Crosshair smirks, and humms. He takes a few steps backwards before getting back into position to fight. 

“I’ll take that bet,” he agrees, and lets you get into position as well. 

The sparring begins slowly, you circle one another, trying to study all of your possible movements. He lunges, and you easily jump out of his way. You kick, and he dodges just as smoothly. Crosshair charges, and you let yourself be lifted by him, only to hook one of your legs behind his knee and pull. Effectively, he grunts as he hits the ground. You grip his shoulders and shove them to the ground, pinning him. 

“You wanna tap out?” you tease.

Crosshair struggles under your grasp, one you know he’s strong enough to break. He’s physically capable of taking you down without the force on your side, but he doesn’t break the hold. He growls under your grasp, but still he doesn’t throw you. 

“Fine,” he hisses, and your grasp on him starts to loosen.

You lean in closely into the hold, bold and prideful of your takedown.

“I win,” you whisper, close enough to the sniper’s ear to kiss. 

You push yourself back up, still holding yourself over him. 

“So what does it mean?” you ask with a smile, ready to hear whatever ridiculous thing it actually means. 

Crosshair looks away, his eyes instead focusing on something across the room as he mouths the translation of the word. 

‘Beloved.’

Thats the word that his lips formed around. Beloved. Beloved. You frown at the word, not because you don’t want him to say that. Not because you don’t want him to call you that. You want him to look at you. 

“Cross…” you trail off, and he turns his head. His eyes look hard, brows set, his lips pressed into a tight line. 

“What did you want if you won?”

That unreadable expression returns to his face again, and then he responds.

“I was going to ask if you would forget your code for a night and come relax with us.”

You don’t respond, your frown only faltering, before you decide to move. You use your leg under his for leverage, and pull until you can roll yourself over, letting him shift until he’s on top of you. 

Your frown breaks, and maybe you even smile. 

“Looks like you win,” you muse, and his scowl breaks as well. 

“I let you win the first time,” he says, shoulders shrugging as he looms over you. 

Somehow, you knew that already. 

“Whatever you say, Cross.”

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.

I miss your amazing works on the Bad Batch being panty snatchers - any updated headcannons/shenanigans around this?

aaah, I haven't updated that trope/series in so long!!! Here's a few NSFW headcanons based on the Batch stealing yo panties.

I'm writing this with the idea that you, the reader, have no idea what's going on, but you're more than welcome to interpret it the opposite way!

Fem reader.

Hunter always feels guilty whenever he steals your panties. He's desperate for that extra material when he masturbates, but oh lord, the post-nut guilt hits him hard. He'll hand-wash your panties before machine washing them, ensuring that they're extra clean. And Maker forbid that a single drop of his cum ever reaches them, else he'll burn your panties and sneakily buy you a new pair.

Echo, similar to Hunter, always feels guilty about stealing your panties. He doesn't get many moments alone, let alone to masturbate, so when he does jerk off, he likes to take his time, and go all out. So, if that means acquiring a pair of your panties to sniff, then fine, he'll do it, for his own pleasure! It's a little selfish, but he always puts them in the wash the second that he's done with them.

Wrecker is often clumsy, but when it comes to committing such a sinful act, he's extra careful. Wrecker won't risk stealing your panties when you're also on the ship, just to be safe. Hell, you'll need to be far away from the ship before he even considers stealing them. But when he does, he goes to town, and the second that he nuts, he often forgets to return them. Sneaking them back into your laundry the next day is always challenging.

Tech is good at being sneaky, but he sometimes lets his confidence get the better of him. You've caught him digging through your laundry basket before, using the excuse of "I was looking for something," before scuttering off. He has one stolen pair that he keeps under his pillow, and uses them over and over until your smell has vanished. So, if your panties ever go missing for days on end, you know who has them.

Crosshair, whilst he is bold and confident, prefers to be sneaky when it comes to something like this. It's weird, isn't it? Sniffing your panties whilst jerking off, all for that extra stimulation. He doesn't often feel guilty of it, just a little... weird? Still, he'll put them back into your laundry basket when done. You can always tell when Crosshair is up to something, as he'll make you caf the next morning - his silent way of saying 'thank you.'

Ahh your writing is so wonderful! I have a request for Crosshair x F!Reader for “I’m not letting you out of my sight”

Like they both have a secret crush on each other but they are at a bar and Crosshair sees someone try to hit on you and he gets sexy possessive jealous?? 🫢🤌 NSFW is ok! 😈

❀ Milestone prompts list ❀

Author's Note: Ohhhh I love me some possessive tropes... Lets get it on~ I might come back and touch this one up a bit since i'm not totallyyyy happy with the way things flow, but I really wanted to write and post some naughty Crosshair; I've been doing so much fluff

Relationships: Crosshair/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mild instances of a stranger being a little pushy flirty, Semi-public sex, Slightly rough sex, It's crosshair so any sort of emotional communication is awful, Unprotected sex

This bar is, shady. To put it lightly.

It could be worse, but it's very clear that this is the bar to go to when one is finished with some less than savory business, or you're persona non grata everywhere else.

But as such, it's also the only bar in this dank, dreary city that'll serve clones, so it's not as if you are all swimming in options. Of course you all finally get some shore leave, and it's on this sunken heap of a planet. The whole place smells like smog; Like some of the lowest, darkest levels of Coruscant.

The rest of the Batch is all late- held up by some repairs on the Marauder that needed immediate attention and multiple sets of hands. They encouraged you to head on without them and that they'd been done quickly, and Crosshair had decided to follow you.

You might normally have told him to stay and help them, but now that you're here, a part of you is a little bit glad that he didn't stay behind. He's a nice anchor point, as otherwise you'd be totally alone in a completely new place. A bar no less, one that doesn't seem exactly used to people like you and Crosshair inside of it.

"You look like a fish outta water, girlie."

You're not against petnames and nicknames, the Batch and most people you know rarely call you by your name anyways, but you're not a fan the way this bartender says it.

You also aren't fond of the way he's acting as if Crosshair doesn't exist, though he more than lets himself be known on the barstool right next to you as you respond.

"Just waiting for some friends," You respond. He fills someone's glass full of an unfamiliar and strong smelling liquor that burns your nose, giving it to them before looking back.

"Not more clones, I hope."

Crosshair speaks up, his eyebrows raised and shoulders firmly set. You'd say he's trying to seem intimidating and unfriendly, but that would imply it wasn't working.

"A problem?" The bartender makes a nonchalant noise in his throat and continues to serve some of the more demanding, drunker customers surrounding the two of you.

"Not if you're all payin'." Even if the answer isn't as negative as you would've expected, Crosshair is still less than pleased. The man looks at you, failing to give Crosshair even more than a wayward glance as he speaks.

"Didn't think a chick looking like you would spend time with that kinda lot."

Your face curls into a bit of a grimace, even as the shout of another patron beings the bartender's attention elsewhere. But even as he's gone off you can still feel how testy Crosshair is, as if the air around him is almost electric. You glance towards the front door for what feels like the millionth time and still, no sign of the rest- so you lean in towards him and whisper.

"Crosshair, relax. Go splash some water on your face or something."

Sure this isn't the most comfortable scenario, but you could do without him snorting fire every which way. You can shove off someone being a little bit skeevy without his help.

Instead of calming down however he snaps right back at you, his lips as tight as his brow when he spits out a response.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight. I see the way everyone's looking at you."

You don't know what part to focus on; The fact that he's noticed some less than appropriate stares happening behind you that you hadn't, or that he's openly admitted to keeping such a keen eye out for you. You tuck a chunk of hair behind your ear and look around.

Part of you is a a bit hungry, but you'll probably end up just eating some of the rations back at the Marauder, at this point. Especially if the others plan on taking even longer, glancing towards the entrance with pursed lips.

"Still waitin?" He's back, and you can feel Crosshair bristle just as you stretch a thin smile and nod.

"I'm sure one of the guys 'round here could show ya a better time than this." He's smiling, and you don't know in what way he means 'better', but innuendo or not it's not a deal you're going to take him up on. Crosshair seems to agree, beginning to hiss something from between his teeth.

"How about y-" "I'm taken. No thanks."

Crosshair stops speaking, and looks over at you. The bartender shrugs. When he looks at the sniper beside you and clearly presumes you're both together, you don't correct him.

It fits with the narrative and, you wouldn't mind roleplaying Crosshair being your lover for just a moment. It's almost hard to remember when you'd first fallen for him, but you've yet to speak anything about it to a single soul.

"Shame. Worth a shot."

He seems to at least get the hint, and turns around to go about some more of his business. Your shoulders relax a bit knowing that you don't have to deal with any of that anymore, leaning back. When you look over at Crosshair however, he's looking off in no particular direction, clearly lost in thought.

"Cross?" You're one of the few people that can get away with calling him any sort of nickname, raising your eyebrows as you look at him and raise a hand to touch his shoulder. When he turns his face is firm set, and you feel your face get hotter under his stare. His eyes have always been intense, but it feels like he's almost staring into you, instead of at you. It's making your heart beat a little faster, heat going to your neck as his eyes flicker around your face thinking things you don't even have a chance at guessing.

Suddenly out of nowhere he grabs you by the wrist and tugs you off your barstool, walking in the direction to the back of the bar. When you attempt to ask him why, he doesn't answer.

There seems to be only a storage closet and a refresher back here, alongside the backdoor into presumably With one fell swoop he opens the refresher door and pushes you in, closing and locking it behind him.

"Crosshair! What are y-"

His lips press against yours before you can say anymore, feeling the small of your back press against the countertop. They feel surprisingly cool against your own, your still open eyes having barely caught the way his are squeezed shut.

You've had a thing for Crosshair for the longest time, and while there's far better ways in the galaxy to confess to someone that you don't hate them, you aren't going to look a gift kybuck in the mouth. Not when Crosshair is so impossible to read, how he really feels is usually seven layers deep.

It takes you more than a moment to get over the overwhelming sense of surprise and actually reciprocate, instead of standing frozen like a statue. You can feel the gentle ghosting of his breath across your face, the aggressiveness he'd had at the beginning of the kiss fading away to be almost lovingly gentle. His lips move slowly with yours, catching your bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before he pulls away.

"Why'd you let him assume I was your date."

It sounds like there should be another half of that sentence, but Crosshair doesn't say it.

"I thought you wouldn't mind, as long as it got him to stop talking." He keeps stepping closer in this tiny closet of a room, and so you hop up onto the countertop and part your thighs enough to let him in. It's never exactly been a secret that you've thought about this, and finally being able to indulge in him has your hands grasping his shoulders so tight he'd have to wrench them off to get away.

"I didn't think a random bartender would make you so upset. Why’d you never tell me you were jealous?" You say, before his lips quiet you again. When he pulls them away with a soft 'pop' you can't help but trail after them, more drunk off of him that any sort of liquor you could get at the bar. He's feeling the same, judging by the fact that his pupils are blown so wide you can barely see the dark brown of his eyes.

"I told you, I didn't like how he was looking at you." It's not the first time Crosshair has pulled a stunt like that, but you normally thought it was because he found any sort of flirting in his vicinity annoying. Not that he liked you that much. It's not as if you can blame yourself- as Crosshair is just that hard to read.

“I didn’t think it mattered to you that much,” You say, illuding to the fact that he’s never given you so much as a hint that he might feel some way about you. He doesn’t formally respond, but you think you might’ve barely utter something along the lines of ‘it does’ against your skin.

Body tangled with yours the way his hands clamp around your hips is like a vice, fingers slipping into the waistband of your pants and underwear. When he pulled off his glove you don't remember, but so much has happened so fast it's almost a blur. They brush along your outer lips and instantly the sensation makes you tighten around nothing, already anticipating them slipping inside of you. The way your cunt is already wet enough to soak his fingers isn't lost on him, nor is the way make a noise loud enough that you feel the need to bite your lip and try to silence it. His fingers slip between your folds and brush against your clit, thighs tightening around him as your hips twitch towards him. The sensation already feels intense, silently begging for more.

The room is tiny and stuffy, if you stretched your foot out you could probably almost brush against the opposite wall, but every sound bounces off of it and fills your ears. The soft rustling of clothing and harsh breathing, the wet sounds of his fingers thrusting in and out of your cunt pace limited by the fabric of your bottoms. Your body warms and stretches around him, wetness slick over his hands and staining the fabric of your underwear.

He only stops when your own hands start grasping at the front of your pants and impede him, trying to finagle them off. Slick hand pulling from where it'd been cupped around your pussy, he helps pull them off in one fell swoop, pants and underwear dangling by only your left ankle.

He'd not taken a piece of armor off when you had all arrived earlier, coming here in his full kit minus helmet. As such he's peeling away the only piece that offers resistance to his goal, it coming undone and falling to the floor as the fabric of his blacks gets awkwardly torn aside. Only then can you suddenly feel the heat of his cock against your thigh, heavy and hard as he pulls you close enough to the edge that he can grind it against your cunt. There's a quiet groan he lets out through his teeth while moving against you, wanting to just sink himself in you. His hot breath fans over your face, your arms tight around his neck and thighs squeezing his hips.

You're desperate- hot and wanting not in a mood to play around in some dirty dimly lit refresher, hand slipping between your bodies and almost forcing his out, guiding his cock to press against your entrance.

Fuck, you've thought about this. Far too many times. Crosshair has too but, it's only tonight that he's finally breached the awkward air that always hung between you two. When your hand returns to his shoulder he's already sinking himself in you, burying to the hilt as your body feels almost unbelievably tight and soft around him.

"You're gonna rip holes in it," Crosshair mumbles against your skin, slyly referencing the way your nails and digging into the fabric of his bodyglove in the small spaces your managed to sneak in.

You might've considered spitting some sort of demand from him, but instead you push your hips closer to his own, listening to him groan in your ear as he drives his cock deeper into you.

It's all awkward and clumsy, an unfavorable spot that's completely spur of the moment. Then again a lot of the things you end up doing with Crosshair are spur of the moment, like midnight runs for food or running off to the middle of nowhere for some quiet, so perhaps this confession is just par for the course.

He's rough and unforgiving, frantic nose pressed against your face as he deepens your kiss. His armor keeps brushing against your bare skin as he thrusts into you, rough and unyielding against your soft meat of your thighs. It's a bit uncomfortable, but any thought of him removing it involves him having to stop fucking you- stop having his hands clench your hips so tight you think he'll leave little bruises as he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter.

"Then throw it out. I'll get you a new one if I do." Slowly his lips drift to the corner of your mouth, before down your jawline to your neck before he responds.

"I'd keep it." His kisses are rough; Not rough enough to leave a mark, but you wouldn't mind if they did.

If you ever had any concern of someone noticing your absence it's long gone, skin hot to the touch in any spot it's exposed as Crosshair pulls you harder onto him. His cock keeps brushing against every soft, sensitive nerve and muscle, making you gasp and your toes curl in your boots.

It's all so much; Your stomach turning and twisting as every single thrust of his hips and brushing of his teeth on your skin fulfils and thirst you'd had for ages.

Your legs wrap around his hips ever tighter, as you cum and bite your lip enough to leave dents. Your ankles lock and have him trapped close to you, snug deeply against and inside of you so much so that he can barely move.

Maybe it's that feeling of closeness, or maybe he's just been barely holding on this whole time and your cunt clenching tight around him is what does him in, but it isn't to long later before you can feel his nails digging into the skin of your thighs, cumming inside of you with a hiss through his teeth.

The countertop feels cold against the back of your thighs, but your body is running so hot; Skin flush and nearly boiling underneath the clothing you still have on. It's all a wreck too, bunched in odd places and wrinkled. Not that it matters, in the long run.

Your legs flop limp away from him, and he leans back enough that his cock pulls out of you, as he quietly catches his breath. The insides of your thighs are slick and feel a mess, and you can feel the way his cum leaks out of you and onto the countertop.

Your legs feel like absolute mush; There's no way you'd be able to walk at the moment. Thankfully you don't need to, as your chest gently rises and falls with each caught breath.

"Warn a girl next time you're going to take her for a ride like that, yeah?" You joke, hoping to soften him up a bit. Crosshair is alway so aloof, no matter what the situation.

"You want a next time?" You glance up at him and see his softened eyebrows and tiny crook of his lips- he's clearly teasing you. It still makes you doubt for just a moment, however.

"Do you?" His face is close enough that you could tug him in for a kiss if you wanted, your hands now more gently just laying on the crook of his neck.

"Yes."

You'll stipulate that you'll be wanting a date first, but you can barter later.

Sliding off the counter with now steady legs you clean yourself and the refresher up to a presentable state and follow him out, thankfully not bumping into any unfortunate souls along the way. The worst thing imaginable, that would be.

But once you enter the main bar area again, it's not long before you notice the rest of the Batch, all standing around waiting. Echo is the first one to turn and notice you and his brother heading towards them, tilting his head.

"Where were you two?" Echo speaks up, raising his eyebrows. Instead of answering, Crosshair instead flips the question.

"Where were you? We've been waiting."

You were doing a little more than waiting it seems, having a silent conversation with Hunter as his eyes are on you. And, they look a little surprised. Any longer and he might just get keen, so you quickly invent a reason to leave them behind.

"I think me and Cross are gonna head back to the ship. We've had our fill of this place for tonight." They look about to speak up, but Hunter cuts off any objections.

"Be careful on the walk back, you two."

The two of you take your leave, the rest of the batch getting to have their night of fun while you two head back. The air outside is brisk but not enough to shiver, adjusting your clothes as the wind blows them awkwardly. Crosshair keeps exact pace with you, walking quite close- almost shoulder to shoulder.

"How long do you think they're gonna spend drinking?" You casually look up at him, swaying a little to the side while you walk and almost bumping into him.

"A while," He says, before glancing down at you with no shortage of suspicion. "Why?" You shrug.

"No reason."

fights and hugs (crosshair's pov)

wildflower masterlist

relationship: twi'lek!jedi!reader x crosshair [gn, can be platonic or romantic]

summary: everyone thinks you're perfect but crosshair knows the truth - you're manipulative and annoying. so why does he get so protective when a creep harasses you?

word count: 1.8k

warnings: cross thinks kindness = emotional manipulation, jealousy, sexualization/verbal harassment, enslavement, creep gets punched, protective cross, clones not having rights/unfair justice system, separation anxiety, soft cross, he's like a feral cat that secretly wants to be a house cat

ryl translations: chi'kan- pervert, keela- darling

a/n: i think i wrote cross like wednesday addams lmao

Crosshair thinks you’re the most frustrating person he’s ever met. And he can’t even do anything about it. He might be a prickly bastard but he’s also a soldier and you’re his commanding officer. He can’t just pick a fight with you. Especially since you never take the fucking bait.

He gives you the bare minimum amount of respect required. He follows your orders on missions (they’re actually pretty smart but he’ll die before he admits that.) He calls you commander or sir. He doesn’t outright insult you. But he certainly doesn’t worship you like his brothers.

They think you’re an angel. What makes you so special? You make Wrecker laugh obnoxiously loud. You encourage Tech’s messy collecting hobby. You play with Hunter's hair until he’s purring like a tooka. It’s pathetic. You’re probably using jedi mind tricks on them. The truth is you’re a manipulative little shit and if it didn’t make Crosshair so angry he might be impressed.

What he really hates is that satisfied look on your face when he does what you want. Like when he plays a stupid dancing game just to prove to you that he can do it better than Wrecker. Or smiling at him proudly when he doesn’t shoot a reg.

Then you have the audacity to compliment him? Disgusting. So why does he crave it? Why does he get annoyed when you praise his brothers instead of him.

One day you give him a piece of dark fabric. “You wear it to block out light when you sleep,” you explain with a bright smile. The cool material is like his blacks but softer. He can’t help but run his fingers along it. He mutters a thanks and quickly leaves.

That night he uses the sleep mask and to his horror likes it. Now he’s in debt to you. But he doesn’t have any credits. Fucking great. Why do you have to make his life so difficult?

Luckily he finds a gift for you within the next few days. After a mission he notices a rock that got caught in an explosion. It’s been cracked in half, exposing the crystalized insides. Jedi like crystals right? He grabs it and drops it in his pack.

Of course you make a big fuss when he awkwardly gives it to you. You almost hug him but don’t, thank the force. He doesn’t feel dissapointed at all. You show the rock to his brothers proudly. His face burns when they send him questioning looks. “Easily impressed,” he scoffs dismissively. Although secretly he’s proud of himself.

He’s having a sleepless night on some forgettable outer rim planet when you knock on his cabin door. He knows it’s you because his brothers would have barged in. “Hey Crosshair, wanna get some snacks? I’m paying,” you offer. You shake a satchel draped across your body, making the credits inside clank together.

He wonders if Hunter (who’s currently on watch) put you up to this, why else would you seek out his company? It's obvious you prefer his brothers anyways. Not that he cares. The thought of you being coerced into this makes his hackles rise, he doesn't need your pity, but then he imagines telling Wrecker’s that you got him nat born food tomorrow. That will be entertaining. He sharply agrees and puts on his boots.

He glances down at his GAR issued loungewear. He doesn’t know if they’re appropriate for a nat born store or wherever you’re taking him but you’re wearing sleep clothes too so good enough. You're swaddled in an oversized robe to be exact. How childish. Not at all endearing

As you exit the ship your eyes reflect in the dark just like his. That’s another annoyance. Enhanced eyesight used to be his thing. You began humming a tune under your breath. Crosshair almost says something but the sound isn’t too horrible so he lets you continue.

Within a few minutes you're at the store. He's instantly overwhelmed by the bright lights and endless options, who needs so many flavors of the same thing? He doesn’t know what any of this is but he doesn’t want to admit that so he begins recon. He grabs a crinkly bag that appears to be some kind of a cracker to inspect it.

That’s when Crosshair notices a stumbling man leering at you. He’s caught off guard by the sudden flash of protective anger he feels. Why is he so concerned? If you can handle yourself on a battlefield, you can handle one pathetic human. Your body language is the opposite of your usual demanor when talking to civilians. You’re usually very open and engaging, easily forming a connection with them. Not now.

Crosshair has seen you face hoards of battle droids with a smile. He’s seen you meditate while being shot at. He’s seen you make fun of General Grievous while fending off four sabers. But now you look shaken. Your colorful skin has paled, eyes wide in a mix of shock and horror. You suddenly look so young and so frightened.

He's beside you in a second. He tries to ignore the relief in your eyes, the way you subtly lean closer to him. It makes his chest feel odd.

“You their master?”

He sneers. Does he look like a jedi master? You go completely rigid beside him. That catches the clone off guard. You know how to keep a straight face. You’re not only a stupidly brave fighter, you’re a damn good negotiator. What could have possibly upset – then it hits him. This man was referring to a different kind of master.

You quickly recover, slipping into an emotionless jedi facade you rarely use. Crosshair’s jaw clenches so hard his toothpick snaps in half. He spits the broken pieces towards the man’s feet. “I belong to no one. The galaxy is much bigger than your prejudices,” you state evenly but there’s a fire in your eyes. “My friend and I are leaving now.”

Then the creep, who’s either stupud or plain suicidal, scoffs angrily. “You think you’re better than me? Tail head whore.”

The sniper sees fucking red. How dare this piece of shit demean his jedi? His self sacrificing, too nice, pain in the ass jedi. Only Crosshair is allowed to make your life difficult. The way the stranger judges you reminds him of every kaminoan that looked down on his brothers and his free hand is swinging.

The drunk is sent staggering wildly. Before either man can recover your fingers wrap around the sniper's wrist to hold him in place as you bend down. “You want to go home and rethink your life choices," you instruct melodically, waving a hand in his face.

“I want to go home and rethink my life choices,” he repeats blankly.

You make quick work of charming the concerned worker, assuring that no police presence is necessary. Then you turn to the sniper and in that fake calm voice he hates suggests he get water for his chips. For once in his life he follows instructions without complaint, watching you closely as you pay for your snacks. Your moves are less graceful and much more droid-like than usual.

Once you get outside you shakily sigh. He holds back an eyeroll. He’s lived with Hunter long enough to know when he’s going to get scolded. “You shouldn’t have done that, Crosshair. I was about to mind trick him.”

He stares at the ground with a tight jaw. He doesn’t know why he defended you when you didn't need it. He saw a creep harassing the only nat born who’s ever been kind to him and he just snapped. He’s still angry, honestly. Why aren’t you? “He deserved it.”

“Perhaps. But clones don’t have rights, you can’t just go around assaulting civilians. Even if it’s self defense you’re going to be painted as the aggressor.”

But Crosshair is only half listening. He's more focused on your unsteady hands. “You're shaking."

“Are you even listening to me? This is serious.”

He suddenly seizes your free wrist, “so is this.”

You look like you want to argue for a moment then you slump in defeat. “I’m just… overwhelmed.”

Crosshair has experience with overwhelmed siblings. Hunter like space, Wrecker likes affection, Tech likes a listening ear. "What do you need?” He asks, surprisingly gentle.

This seems to be your boiling over point as you gesture wildly, swinging the bag in your hand. “I need sleep. I need to meditate. I need my master.” Your glowing eyes widen at your own outburst. The frustration morphs to sadness. “I guess I’m a little homesick. I thought spending time with you would be a good distraction but that chi’kan ruined it.”

This should be the point where he drops the subject. You already said what’s wrong and it’s not his responsibility to make you happy. But a voice that sounds suspiciously like Hunter points out that if the roles were reversed, you wouldn’t leave him to suffer.

He thinks back to the cadet days, when it was just him and his brothers against the world. He remembers the overwhelming anger when a reg hurt one of them. He was never good at comforting, he was good at revenge. But he can’t fight your emotions. And he already punched the chi’kan (he’ll have to find out what that means later.)

There’s only one option left. Out of his brothers you remind him of Wrecker the most and Wrecker likes physical reassurance when he’s upset. He awkwardly opens his arms and bites the blaster bolt. “Do you want a hug?”

“... What?”

“I’m not saying it again.”

Then you’re flying against him. Crosshair almost falls into the grass as you smash your face into his neck, fists balling into his sleep shirt. You’re warm and solid and your touch isn’t completely revolting. He slowly relaxes as he winds a long arm around you.

Crosshair will never admit it but he can understand your separation anxiety. As the sniper it’s his job to watch his brother’s backs. The instinct to protect is so engraved in Crosshair he needs to be near his siblings or know where they are at all times. Maybe that’s why he defended you tonight. He’s starting to accept you as part of the squad.

“Blossom?” He mutters, thumb absently stroking your lower back.

“Yeah, Cross?”

“If you tell anyone about this I’ll shoot you.”

You snort against the crook of his neck. "Whatever you say, keela."

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