I Always Imagined Cross' Eyes To Be Sensitive And Get Strained Sometimes And When They Do He'd Turn Into

hellloooo luv >.< could I maybe request a crosshair/shortfem!reader where crosshair has a size difference kink and is obsessed with his small gf? <33 just the sight of you hugging him by the waist and looking up at him with your pretty little eyes as he towers over you would make him lose his mind. thinking about how he would love reminding you how small you are compared to him. he would love how easy it is for him to pick you up and lift you onto him without even trying and just manhandling you and using you anyway he wants. he would love how his big hands look holding onto your small waist (or anywhere on you for that matter), the tummy bulge he gives you, him having to take his time to fit inside of you bc of how big he is and talking you through it. “shhh cyare..you’re doing so good for me..almost there..”. you’re his little princess and he absolutely adores and loves to praise you for how well you take him while he uses you as his own personal cumdump until you’re cock dumb and ruined by him. I need to be manhandled by him in the most disgusting, loving, and sweetest way possible.

Author's Note: This request made me bonk around the room like a fire extinguisher that's been shot

Summary: Crosshair has always noticed how much more delicate you were than him. But when one night he actually, really notices; He can't stop the way he wants you.

Relationships: Crosshair/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Reader is 'short coded' but everything else is pretty ambiguous as usual, Creampies, my badboy Crosshair with Goodgirl Reader cliché obsession because my mind cannot know peace, Size Kink, Unprotected sex,

Crosshair doesn't normally use the word 'cute'.

Not much in his life warrants the adjective; and the few things that do, he normally has less than a stellar disposition towards. He almost always says it with venom, meant to insult whatever or whoever it is rather than compliment.

You are a noted exception however, as Crosshair has yet to find an adjective that fits you quite as well as 'cute' does.

His brothers can't even help but agree, as no matter how many times he bites at them to back off with it, they always ruffle your hair or joke about how short you are. He doesn't mind in actuality, they are just being brotherly, but sometimes Crosshair isn't a fan of others pointing out things that only he should be noticing.

Even not that long ago when you'd boarded the Marauder, Wrecker had made yet another comment at how small you were, with a pitch in his voice and an arm around your shoulders. He only stopped when he could feel Crosshair's eyes burning holes into him, but you just waved him off.

Right now his arm is light around your shoulders, as the thumping of club music hums in your ears. The dive bar reeks of greasy food and hard liquor, but you don't mind the change in pace. The weather has been awful lately and with your life busy, coming out and enjoying time in public has been a welcome change. Whether or not you're used to this sort of scene.

Crosshair seems less so, as he looks around the bar seeing the other groups of clones spattered across the scenery. They're all minding their own business, drinking for many of the same reasons you're all out tonight.

"That would involve actually having to try, Wrecker."

You smile and laugh at the largest brother across the table, right shoulder brushing against his ribcage. He has to look down in order to watch your face, as you stay firmly tucked against his side. He hasn't the slightest idea what you're talking about at this point, so he doesn't bother joining the conversation and risk making a fool out of himself.

Wrecker responds, but it doesn't give Crosshair any context as to what the two of you are jokingly fighting about. He's too busy watching the way your head tilts slightly towards him and leans against his body for just a moment.

"Oh, bold words coming from the short stack!" You roll your eyes at Wrecker, one of your hands fiddling with the various scuffs and dents on the Crosshair's thigh armor. He can't feel it other than the light pressure, though sometimes you move enough so that you brush against the black flightsuit between the seams; And that, he can feel.

Wrecker isn't wrong in his comment- you're significantly shorter than all of them, not just him. It's a fact that often lingers in Crosshair's mind, and in a way that nearly always appealing. You always tuck perfectly against his side, a perfect little piece of peace.

It's more than a bit distracting to him, who's found himself more interested in watching your small hands wrap around your glass, more so than his own drink. Everyone's been getting sloshed tonight, but Crosshair's no longer interested in the scene.

He's much more interested in you; As you look down to see his hand fiddling with the soft fabric of your dress.

As he leans in his hot breath fans over the shell of your ear, his lips just barely grazing your skin. He's had one or two drinks, as have you, but no where near enough to get more than the tiniest buzz.

"Let's go."

You can't disagree with him. Hunter is too sloshed to really notice the way the air around you two has been getting hotter and hotter for an hour now, and that Crosshair's hand has been steadily climbing up your thigh. You don't open your legs to let him in, but you still feel the weight of his fingers as you suddenly raise your head to speak up.

"Hey, guys- I think I'm gonna head out for tonight."

Wrecker whines, and Tech bemoans the idea of the two least drunk of everyone besides himself leaving. He was hoping not to be relegated to chauffeur as he is almost every time the Batch goes out, not that he would even drink if he wasn't.

"It's been fun but, I'm getting pretty tired. I'll see you guys later." When Crosshair gets up with you and Tech glances between the two of you confused, you quickly speak up. His hand is on the small of your back, tense with the silent plea of 'hurry it up'.

"Cross is gonna take me home. I'll send him back in one piece, don't worry." It's not as if they can complain about it, as you're always turning around and leaving before they'd theoretically have a chance.

"Slow down," You joke, as the cold air outside hits you. Crosshair just looks down at you from the corner of his eyes, the music still quite loud even from all the way out here.

When you hail a taxi and step in he follows, sliding in right beside you until you're both shoulder to shoulder.

And the whole way there, Crosshair looms. His eyes linger over your form like he's hungry, a stare that's almost physically heavy on you body. You glance up at him once, raising your eyebrows.

But he remains silent; You swear you can hear his heartbeat as the taxi pulls to a stop in front of your building. You've recently moved and you almost don't recognize the place, but it's easy enough to find your way inside once you remember.

Your fingers shake as you punch in the code, feeling his chest brush against your shoulder right blade.

He's so close...

The moment that door closes and locks he is on you, and you reciprocate tenfold. Your arms wrap around his neck tight enough to almost make him need for air, just as desperate for him as he is for you as your lips press against his.

Even for as lithe as he is he still towers over you, pushing your body blindly towards your bed. He knows where it is by heart now, having stayed in your home close to as many times he's slept in the Marauder.

The blankets wrinkle around your form, legs dangling off the edge as he roughly pushes you down only to follow right behind, body looming over yours. Everything here is so soft; Your blankets, your bed, your skin. Crosshair sometimes feels like he doesn't belong, but in the end, he doesn't care.

"You wore this on purpose, didn't you."

He's mentioned this outfit before; It was one that for some reason managed to rev his engine more than anything else you've worn. Maybe it's the red and black, maybe it's the way it lays on your body. Either way, you'd almost totally forgotten he had that reaction to it until right now, as he's busy trying to tear it off you. In a frantic effort you assist, kicking off your shoes and anything else that attempts to get in the way.

"It's not my fault you can't control yourself," You say, feeling his body lay against yours as he unclothes himself.

"Tch," You feel the heat of his cock against your thigh. "Watch your mouth."

Funny how it doesn't sound nearly as mean as that usually would've. You feel the way his cock grinds against you, slick as he slips along your folds.

He pulls away enough so that he can sit on the bed, pulling you towards him the moment he's able.

Your bottom sits the in the dip between his legs, wrapping around his hips. It's almost hard to see his face at this angle, having to lean back just a bit in order to. You also have to as you lift yourself just far enough away to slip a hand between your bodies, guiding his cock as you slowly but surely sink onto him. You can hear him grit his teeth and hiss through them, hands tight on the soft meat of your thighs.

The noise you let out is soft, almost like a breathless sigh as he fully sinks inside of you. Crosshair feels his neck tighten at the sound of it, how cute it is.

But then again you always look cute; The way you get surrounded by his shadow and look up at him, face squished and feeling hot as you bounce on his cock.

Your chest brushes against his, arms wrapping around his neck.

Even sitting in his lap he's taller than you, feeling his hands tightly grip the soft flesh of your waist. Your legs are tight around his hips, and he can feel your hot breath against his skin.

You grip him, nails digging into his shoulders like he's your only weight to this world, cunt tightening around him. Your skin feels like it's on fire, heart pounding in your chest.

When you finally come down from your high you feel Crosshair's hands on your waist, that had for awhile now been partly helping you keep upright. He's so quite sometimes that you can barely tell how he's feeling, that he's finished inside of you but manage to swallow his own moans enough so that you barely even heard it. He liked the sounds of yours more anyways.

Feeling the heat of your cheek as you brush your palm over it, you're glad you left one window open. The chilled breeze is quickly cooling your skin, and the fresh air is keeping your mind from completely fogging over.

"Can you stay the night?"

It's less so an invitation for another round- though you'd absolutely not complain if that turned out to be the case- and more so wondering if you'll be able to steal a rare moment with him. It's not often you get to fall asleep with him, let alone wake up.

Tech is his brothers sober guide as always; He can deal with his brothers while he steals a rare moment for himself.

"Not like they can't reach me if they need me." You'll take that as a positive response, feeling your body slowly lift off of him.

Crosshair often sleeps on his stomach, and as he turns to do so you can see the red, burning lines your nails left on his shoulders and back; And while he's never complained and if anything, seems to enjoy it, you still feel bad for hurting him.

This time you don't comment on them however, instead moving closer enough that he wraps an arm around your waist. Whatever way you sleep the two of you always find a way to tangle together, feeling his warm body against yours in the now cool air of your bedroom.

You think you hear him say something, but you're too close to sleep and it's too quiet for you to hear, as you finally drift off.

@superiorsniper this about u? *offers hug*

reblog to give somebody a fucking hug because we are all struggling to get through it. solidarity in this tough ass world.

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

Okay…I’m opening my inbox for a very limited number of requests!

Bad Batch Requests!!

I’m going to take 2-3 to start and then I’ll close it until I get those out!

So send in some requests for the following characters!

Tech, Hunter, Crosshair, or Echo!!

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.

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

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."

requests are open!

currently taking requests for

adrian chase

richie kirsch

hughie campbell

crosshair

tech

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.'

your friendly weekly reminder:

ratios don’t mean shit

no fic is too short or too long

you don’t have to do what your commentators want

some of the best fics get 0 comments

some fics get more kudos because they’re in a popular fandom/pairing at a popular time

people will enjoy your fic without commenting and that’s hard sometimes

keep writing ❤️