staycalmandhugaclone - Tumblr blog

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Writing brain here 🙋‍♀️

It didn't matter how you word it: thirsty fans will find a way to read it how they want. And you have a lot of thirsty fans

Quick question if you try to spam tap the screen of your datapad in theory would you break it? (you know scomp-hand?)

My datapad was no worse for wear after tapping all of yesterday's boops with the scomp.

You learn control quickly when you're walking around with a power tool attached to your body. Gentle repetitive motion is one of my specialties now.

[staycalmandhugaclone]

I'm trying to write... but it's really hard to have serious thoughts when I'm literally engulfed in cuddles... It's honestly the best distraction ever 😆🥰

Also, the next chapter will have 2 versions (those who've read the last one can guess why 😉)

[staycalmandhugaclone]

🫠🫠

Excuse me, ma'am... on behalf of Crosswhores everywhere, I'd like to thank you for this absolutely heartwarming moment.

🥳🥳congrats on 4000 !!🥳🥳

For your follower celebration

May I request a sfw f! Reader x crosshair

In which reader is woken up from a nightmare and is comforted by cross, which leads to cuddles and falling asleep in his arms? 👉👈

Maybe reader has a crush and wasn't expecting to be shaken from a nightmare nor was she expecting cross to be the one to wake them out of it and comfort her (because despite his standoff attitude Mr. Snarky has a crush too )

Lol sorry if that sounds confusing or complicated

Totally fine if you pass this request up lol

Nightmare Rescue

Crosshair X F!Reader

word count: 1.2k

When a nightmare takes over your sleep, your roughly awakened by the squads Marksman. But what you didn’t anticipate was for him to crawl into the same bunk with you.

warnings: Safe for work, female reader, mutual pining, reader has a nightmare, moody Crosshair, fluff and comfort, cuddles. Can be read as GN.

authors note: many thanks for the support and request @secretthegriffin. Sorry for the wait. Enjoy 🤍

With intense, inscrutable eyes, Crosshair observes you from across the room, attuned to the slightest shift in your typically calm expression. Your brows furrow as you begin to mumble incoherently, your breath turning erratic, punctuated by occasional gasps.

He keenly discerns the distress etched on your face. The fluttering of your eyelids, as if ensnared in a tormenting dream, leaves him deeply unsettled. He can't bear to witness it any longer and he firmly grips your shoulder and shakes your body.

Abruptly, you awaken with a jolt, your heart racing and your body ensnared in tangled bedsheets. The nightmarish grip still clings to your mind, the vivid and unsettling images haunting you. As you strive to make sense of it, your thoughts race in a whirlwind of fear and confusion, your mind wrestling to distinguish dream from reality. But then you meet his gaze.

"C-Crosshair? What... are you okay?"

He hums, his moody facade making it hard to discern his emotions. "I'm fine. You're not."

You wipe the sweat from your brow and swing your legs around the bunk as you sit up. "Did I wake you?" you groan, running a hand through your untamed hair.

"Yes," he replies dryly, his moody expression giving nothing away.

Cursing internally, guilt gnaws at you as Crosshair moves back to his bunk and hunches forward once he sits.

“What was it about?” His unexpected question catches you off guard. You had anticipated Crosshair might wake you and leave you to your own devices, so his display of concern surprises you. It's a rarity, but not unwelcome. You've always found him intriguing since joining the Batch, though you can't envision a relationship beyond comrades, and perhaps, at most, friends.

His inquisitive "Well?" breaks your reverie, snapping you out of your thoughts. His frowning gaze meets your momentarily blank expression, making you feel like you've been gawking at him as if he has three heads.

"Oh, erm," you stammer, not eager to revisit those dreams, "just like... death, I guess." It's not far from the truth.

You glance back at him, finding his gaze unwavering. "You must dream about it a lot."

Your heart twinges, realising that Crosshair has likely seen your internal struggle more than once, and it's possible that the others have noticed too. It's not every time you sleep, but it happens often enough for someone to say, ‘oh, another one?’.

"Yeah, I guess," you admit.

The ship falls into a comfortable silence, with only the typical hum of the engines and the faint, rhythmic tapping of Crosshair bouncing his knee. His silence doesn't bother you; it's not unusual, and merely being in his company is enough, especially with your lingering crush.

Moments pass until he suddenly looks at you, his eyes piercing, a code you can never fully decipher. Your legs feel like jelly, and you momentarily forget how to breathe.

"You should go back to sleep," he orders abruptly. However, for that fleeting moment, there's a softness in his tone when he meets your gaze. "Long day ahead tomorrow."

You nod softly, releasing a deep exhale, breath-taken as usual when he speaks to you. "I suppose. Goodnight."

He doesn't respond with the same words, instead emitting a subtle grunt, his own version of 'goodnight.' But tossing and turning brings no relief as you fail to fall back asleep.

Uncertain whether your inability to sleep is due to the fear of more nightmares or the worry of disturbing Crosshair, you let out a subtle sigh. To your surprise, Crosshair remains awake.

"Can't sleep?"

"Nope," you say, emphasising the 'p'. You turn your head to see Crosshair has maintained the same position for nearly an hour now. He sits in his stark, stoic silence. "What about you?"

"I don't need to," he mutters, reaching under his bunk to retrieve his rifle and a cloth. His hands move with precision and care as he idly cleans his most prized possession, a ritual he performs with unwavering focus.

You watch him for a moment, your eyes tracing the graceful movements of his hands. Then, you return your gaze to the dull and boring ceiling above you. A minute or two later, something shifts, and the whole galaxy seems to pause as Crosshair stands over you, his expression stoic. "Move up."

You blink up at him, words caught in your throat. "Huh?"

"Move," he commands, taking a step closer. His voice holds a hint of determination. "Up."

And you comply, shifting your position to make room for him.

He lays down, and the atmosphere in the cramped bunk is charged with tension. Both of you are stiff, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the ceiling, your hearts pounding in the confined space.

Summoning your courage, you turn your head to face him. "Why are you in my bunk?"

You see him suck on the inside of his cheek, a subtle sign of his nerves, and you wonder what's going through his mind. He turns to face you, his face incredibly close, his piercing eyes locking onto yours. "Do you want me to leave?"

You find yourself briefly lost in the depths of his eyes, drawn into their enigmatic allure, but you snap out of your trance before it becomes awkward, shaking your head slightly. "No," you whisper softly, your heart fluttering as you watch him turn his head away to gaze at the ceiling once more.

A silence descends once again, a little more comfortable than the last, and just as you begin to relax, you're nearly startled when you feel his fingers, with the utmost gentleness, twitch toward yours.

You hold your breath, uncertain if it was accidental, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, his fingers gradually interlace with yours. Slowly, you close your hand, allowing the realisation to sink in that you are holding Crosshair's hand.

Crosshair remains quiet for a while, and you don't mind the silence. However, when he does speak, his voice is barely above a whisper. "You can sleep into me," he says, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "If it would help you sleep better."

"Really?"

"Yes," he replies swiftly, anticipating your question. "Cuddle... into me."

How could you resist such an invitation?

You quietly shift onto your side, laying your head in the crook of his torso and armpit, your arm draping delicately over his toned frame. If this wasn't an innocent gesture, you might have melted at the sensation of his body against yours.

You half-expected him to flee, second-guessing his decision, but instead, he chuckles lowly. "Don't be scared, come closer." His words send a pleasant shiver down your spine, and you shake off any distracting thoughts, pressing yourself more firmly against him and sighing contentedly.

But nothing feels better than when his arms snake around you, pulling you close, and he lays a hand on the back of your head, gently massaging your hair.

Your eyes flutter closed, and you hum in delight. "Crosshair, you don't need to do this," you comment shyly after a few minutes.

"If I didn't want to, I wouldn't," he replies, gently meeting your gaze. For a brief moment, your gazes fully lock, not just fleeting glances. His eyes roam your face and pause briefly at your lips, but he doesn't give in. Instead, he smiles, a soft and rare expression.

"Go to sleep now, darling."

As soon as your eyes fall shut, you drift off into a peaceful slumber, and not a single nightmare disturbs your rest.

Masterlist

More Crosshair Works

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @imalovernotahater @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @photogirl894 @id-rather-be-a-druid @the-bad-batch-baroness

[staycalmandhugaclone]

... not saying I totally called it, but

Little snippit from You'll Have to Go Through Me Pt 6 😆

You kids BETTER BEHAVE or Ma will wave The Screwdriver at you again!!

[staycalmandhugaclone]

... the little snip of hip tattoo... 🤤

I did a thing 👀🔥

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Sleep time.

[staycalmandhugaclone]

No more tension? Hehehe 😁

Little man doubled in weight by week 6, so I'd say we're doing all right 🥰

Ode to Artists Pt 3

Part (3) of Ode to Artists, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

Heya! I've finally given up being able to type on an actual computer, so I'm mostly writing on my phone now (formatting this post was a pain 😆), but at least that means I get to sneak a couple minutes of writing here and there! I should be sleeping, but instead I'm going to waste way too much time on here because there's over 400 reblogs in my draft folder I've been meaning to get to... also, Tumblr is still unfollowing people for me, so that's fun... gonna try to fix that now. Love y'all!!

Warnings: sexual tension, mild pstd

WC: 3,095

The streets of Alderaan weren’t made for soldiers. They were made for scholars and artists and children rife with an eagerness to spend their lives in the pursuit of joy rather than victory. I kept waiting for harsh looks and rude gestures, for shop keepers to close their doors and what few guards monitored the streets to follow us with rifles ready, but we were met with none of the prejudice so often harbored toward the clone army. Our armor instilled neither fear nor anger in those around us despite how it marked us as everything their peaceful ways preached against, and part of me fell in love with them for that.

“Wrecker…” Hunter called once more, impatience drawing his brother’s name out in a weary groan, and I felt my lips pull into a wide grin upon turning to find the towering man wandering toward a stall doting dozens of various treasures from delicate pastries to wooden puzzles, helmet perched atop his forehead. His lips bunched in something just shy of a pout, limbs dragging in clear reluctance as he forced himself back to his position.

“We’ll have time to check everything out after.” The Sergeant reminded him in a sighed apology.

“Yeah, yeah; I know.” Wrecker responded morosely, and my breath caught in a quiet chuckle.

“Given the average size of this event, it would likely take several days to see it in its entirety.” Tech corrected.

“Days?” I asked, turning to him in shock. He glanced toward me only briefly before letting his attention return to the growing crowds around us.

“Correct. While only locals are granted authority to sell goods here, the festival has become so renowned that most every artisan on the planet participates.” I glanced around once more, marveling anew at all I saw. It was easy to imagine that the majority of the venders stretching out atop roads dusted in the first crystalline veneer of fresh snow had flocked from distant systems eager to monopolize on a heritage that meant nothing more to them than a chance to earn credits, but to learn that only those born and raised to truly appreciate the meaning behind the event could sell wears created from passion in the stead of capitalism again left me stunned at the innate beauty that shown through this world and its people.

That beauty wasn’t limited to their customs and architecture. I’d barely noticed the city in our initial approach. Each massive structure was designed to mimic the striking breadth of sharp peaks surrounding them, allowing the manmade buildings to nearly vanish among the landscape lest they tarnish the natural splendor of mountains coated in snow so pure the shadows looked nearly sapphire in the dimming light of the evening sun. Even from orbit, there had been no spiderwebs of light marring the pristine dance of blues and greens beneath the delicate lacework of opal clouds swirling about the atmosphere, and the want to cherish that beauty, the willingness of these peoples to trade military prowess for art no longer felt quite so foolish.

“This is the place. Fix your helmet, Wrecker.” Hunter stated as he veered away from the main path toward arched doors of elaborately etched transparisteel leading into one of the impossibly tall buildings. The room within was no less elegant. Ceilings decorated in sprawling images and symbols stretched several meters overhead supported by grandiose marble columns lining the central walkway.

“Tech, what are” Before I could ask for some history of the overhead designs, a warm voice filled the lobby.

“Ah! You must be the renowned Clone Force 99!” Even from afar, I could see the kindness in his eyes. There was a pride about him. It showed in the gliding movements of unrushed strides carrying him across the gleaming tile floors, in the lightness of his welcoming gesture as his arms flared out in greeting, but that pride carried none of the haughty superiority that had nearly become synonymous with those of his standing. It was the softness in the set of his shoulders, the absence of that need to keep his chin raised that he might never see the ground he trod upon; it was from the unfaltering gentleness of his smile that I found myself so willingly robbed of what reservations I’d held toward those with such a pompous title.

“Senator Organa.” It was easy to forget the endless roles Hunter had to fill, but to watch him slip so effortlessly from older brother to Sergeant left me standing just a bit taller beside him. “Sounds like Commander Cody warned you about us.” Organa’s face lit with a friendly laughter, unashamed of the lines it drew atop sepia skin that was clearly no stranger to such joy as his hands fell to rest atop his stomach, fingers twining loosely together.

“He certainly did!” He replied, again letting his words carry boldly through the near empty room. “I trust there’ll be no need to worry about your reputation during your stay?” He teased.

“Our mission success rate is unparalleled among the GAR.” Tech objected, and I had to steel myself to keep silent in the face of his offence.

“As is the tendency for your missions to become… complicated.” Hunter let out an amused huff at the Senator’s prodding.

“Given the kind of missions we usually take, I think that only proves just how well we handle ourselves when circumstances… change.” The subtle boast in his response wasn’t lost on the man before him, and Organa let out a hearty chuckle. “I’m not anticipating any excitement tonight, though.” He added, head dipping slightly.

“On the contrary!” The Senator boomed, “I expect tonight to offer plenty of excitement! Though not, I hope, the variety you all seem used to.” Wrecker’s attention seemed to pique.

“You mean there’s somethin’ more goin’ on than people sellin’ stuff and makin’ speeches?” He asked.

“Oh, I won’t ruin the surprise.” Organa’s nearly black eyes twinkled with glee before drawing a quick breath and leaning back slightly. “Now then, Sergeant, I believe you and I have business. Meanwhile, I’ve had rooms prepared for you all. I understand you’ve had a particularly challenging few weeks, and, while a comfortable bed and good food don’t fix all of life’s woes, they certainly don’t hurt.” His gaze landed pointedly on me as he spoke, and I felt my chest tighten at the uncertainty of just how much he knew.

“That’s… unnecessary, but greatly appreciated. Thank you, Senator.” Hunter replied after a beat too long of silence, and I belatedly nodded. Organa merely offered a soft smile before turning to lead Hunter away.

“I could get used to this!” Even Wrecker’s voice barely carried into the hallway as he eagerly vanished through one of several doors lining walls adorned in shimmering tapestry and flowing architecture.

“Think you’ll be able to fall asleep on a real bed?” I asked Echo, immediately earning a scoff.

“I’m more worried I won’t be able to go back to sleeping in the hammock.” He retorted, gaze wandering around the entrance to his room a moment before treading in.

“Given Crosshair’s new sleeping arrangements, it would be logical for you to simply take his bunk.” Tech replied absent a moment’s hesitation or hint of scandal, but I instantly had to trap my lips between my teeth in a vain attempt to stifle the heat creeping up my neck.

Turning purposefully away from the grin I knew would toy with those lips upon noting my undeniable blush, I quickly approached my own room, unsurprised at the sound of footsteps following just behind me.

“Not worried that they might have hidden cameras?” I asked, glancing back to watch Crosshair set his bucket atop the half-wall separating the entryway from what appeared to be a kitchenette. The suite was small but no less extravagant for it. The foyer led to a room containing nothing more than a bed and a wall concealed entirely in pale blue curtains, beyond which I could only assume lay massive windows to grant a clear view of the surrounding mountains. It was the bed, however, that trapped my attention.

“They don’t.” Cross replied, stepping forward just enough to enter my line of sight, and I could offer no objection to the knowing look he shot me.

Ivory linens lay atop the mattress without hint of wrinkle or stain, and likely cost more than I could ever justify. I didn’t doubt how lush they’d feel against my skin, nor how soft the pillows surely were, but those thoughts meant nothing beneath the temptation of finally being granted the chance for a rare moment of true privacy with the man before me. I couldn’t chase the image of him lying bare against those lustrous sheets from my mind, nor did I want to, and as that smirk grew on lips I’d never bore for the taste of, I held no doubt that he could guess exactly what wants left me quiet for just a moment too long.

“Cross.” The warning in my voice when I finally managed to grasp enough self-restraint to speak only left his shoulders dancing beneath silent laughter.

“I didn’t say anything.” He replied, words dripping with every unspoken pleasure the night promised, and the way he turned toward me, the way his body coiled in those few steps he stole across the foyer, that undeniable sensation of prey staring down the very thing hunting me with an eager anticipation that thickened the air around us and left me breathing that much harder only proved just how helpless I was when he looked at me like that, like I was the answer to his every unsatiated desire, amber eyes lit with an intoxicating hunger. When he reached for me, when his finger slid along the tender flesh of my neck, my jaw, touch gently guiding my chin up to meet him, what could I do if not let myself melt into the heat so effortlessly stoked by that featherlight caress?

Three sharp bangs wrenched us from that haze with an unapologetic abruptness.

“You lot can test the bed later! Hunter says to meet ‘im in the lobby!” Wrecker shouted from just outside the room. Crosshair let out something torn between a groan and a growl, jaw tensing about lips hinting at a scowl as narrowed eyes glared toward the still closed door, and I couldn’t stifle a resigned huff of laughter. With a quiet sigh, I pushed myself up to taste his lips if only for a moment.

Those golden eyes held none of the frustration I’d expected to find as I reluctantly pulled away, and I readily welcomed the giddy weightlessness at the sight of the soft smirk easing all but the faintest traces of tension from his face.

“One of these days,” I started, words hushed but no less rich with affection for it, “No missions, no cramped quarters, no worrying about being overheard or seen…” I let my hands drag delicately up his arms as I spoke, thrilling in the thought.

“Sounds like wishful thinking.” He retorted, but there was no malice in it; no sense of belittlement for such a far-off dream.

“Mhm.” I hummed absently, stealing one final kiss before stepping back to retrieve my helmet.

Wrecker’d just raised his fist toward the door again when it slid open, and the sly grin dancing beneath beaming eyes left me biting back laughter as a subtle heat threatened to color my cheeks.

The sun was just beginning to caress the western peaks, sending the city into a premature dusk rich with soft pastels that danced through now gentle wisps of clouds in soft pinks and purples. The fresh snow coating the surrounding mountains reflected the stunning display of colors until the entirety of the range seemed more painting than reality.

“As much as we want?!” Hunter had just finished explaining that Senator Organa granted us a generous stipend to ‘enjoy the festivities properly,’ and I could feel the excitement bursting from Wrecker as we started down a side street.

“I feel the need to remind you of the limited cargo space of the Marauder.” Tech commented in something just shy of resignation before his brother could rush off.

“Maybe avoid bankrupting him.” Echo added.

“Ey, I’m not the one who was droolin’ over them places by the hanger.” He retorted.

“I hardly see how one could compare extravagant spending on food with potentially life-saving upgrades to the Marauder.” The sideways glare Tech sent his brother left me stifling a cough of laughter. I half expected Hunter to step in, but a brief glance revealed the easy grin just softening his lips, and I didn’t have to wonder over the cause. It felt like ages since we’d had a moment together absent clenched jaws and averted eyes.

“Not our fault he gave them his credit stick.” Crosshair said with a conspiratory smirk. I bumped my shoulder against his at the obvious bate, pleased that Echo merely shot his brother an unamused look.

“We can debate how much of the Senator’s credits to spend later – we’re almost to the spot he suggested.” Hunter said dismissively, voice lightened with an almost foreign ease as he led us toward an empty field. I looked around expectantly but saw only the deep blues of shadowed snow blanketing the stretch of empty land, noting a handful of families nestling down atop thick blankets with eager eyes watching the darkening sky.

“Did he give you some clue about what we’re looking for?” I asked, attention wandering briefly toward the first hints of stars above us before returning to watch more people begin filling the once empty park to claim just enough space for a moment’s rest.

“Just said it would be worth the trip out here.” He replied with a shrug. My brow hitched, but he offered no further insight.

The violent burst of crimson filled the sky without hint of preamble, the rich color soaking into the snow around us like fresh blood. I didn't see the whimsical shape it drew in the darkness, nor the looks of wonder and glee in the citizens around me. As the thunderous boom shook the very air, I saw only the flames burning decimated chunks of wall and flesh alike in the Separatist ballroom, the tower of rumble that had pinned me to the ground, the ruined shell of my ship after Wolffe shot us down, and my body shrank back with a sharp gasp. I didn't realize I’d all but thrown myself toward Crosshair until long after his arms locked around me and his quiet “easy” faded into the broken stillness.

Chest bucking in short, frantic breaths, I belatedly took in the faint visage of a rose fading to nothing as the smoldering remnants of the firework burned out, leaving only awestruck faces and the faint scent of sulfur in its wake. A firework. No encroaching enemies. No threat of injury or death. Still, when sapphire bloomed into a writhing dragon, I couldn't suppress the way my body flinched at the wave of pressure that followed even as my cheeks burned upon finding looks of concern on those around me.

“I’m fine.” I loathed the tension cloying even those short words and pointedly pushed myself away from Crosshair as though it might validate my claim, “just startled me.” None voiced the doubt that so clearly tugged at the edges of their lips and darkened their eyes. I wasn’t sure if I preferred their silence or longed for them to speak if only to grant me excuse to justify my feigned indifference.

Swallowing back claims I knew to be void of truth, I turned my gaze back to the display above in hopes of forcing some earnest appreciation for the increasingly complex orchestra of flame and thunder. There was no denying how violently my heart raced in echo of each booming explosion, but neither could I deny the very real splender of it. Plumes of tufted hair appeared to bristle aback the shoulders of a vern tiger, and I could nearly see the gleam of water undulating along the smooth skin of a thranta. I couldn't fathom how the artists managed to paint such elaborate images in the fleeting bursts of flame, but their beauty and detail slowly eased from me those cursed remnant of panic.

I wondered if Wrecker was calculating how precisely the explosives would need to be packed to create the intricate shapes or if Tech was itemizing which chemicals might have been used to make such brilliant colors; if Hunter could smell the salts before they burst into flames, and if Echo was fighting back a reaction as violent as mine had been. When I looked at Crosshair, however; when I sought him out with thoughts of how wonderous the displays above us must be for him, I was surprised to find him forsaking the stunning display above us. He didn’t falter when I saw him staring at me, expression almost soft in a way that sent ripples of warmth dancing beneath my skin.

“Not interested in watching the fireworks?” I asked quietly, expecting some teasing insult or dismissive remark, but still, he didn’t falter.

“I am.” For just a moment, confusion drew the beginnings of a frown from me, but then another burst of light erupted from the darkness, and my breath caught as wisps of emerald shimmered atop the gold of his eyes. Without a word, his lips twitched into a tiny smirk.

In an instant, I forgot about the beauty outshining the very stars above us, mesmerized instead by the heat coiling within my chest as he leaned subtly closer to me, by the way his hair shone in the ever-changing hues and the fresh memory of his tall form crowding me mere feet from that tantalizing bed. I watched his eyes darkened as though he'd read my thoughts, pupils dilating with the same want leaving my skin flushed.

“It’s… been a long day. I think I'm going to call it an early night.” I barely wasted thought for some excuse, body lingering a moment longer, frozen beneath the intensity of those sharp eyes if only to savor the thrill it sent dancing across my skin before forcing myself to turn away, “I'll check out the market tomorrow.” Crosshair didn't bother making an excuse of his own as he moved to follow me, and Wrecker's low chuckle left me certain there was no doubt toward my true intent.

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[staycalmandhugaclone]

I can be nice! 🤣🤣 I started off by saying this was mostly just a fluff arc - just a little break after how intense those last chapters were (and the fun that's coming next).

Ode to Artists Pt 3

Part (3) of Ode to Artists, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

Heya! I've finally given up being able to type on an actual computer, so I'm mostly writing on my phone now (formatting this post was a pain 😆), but at least that means I get to sneak a couple minutes of writing here and there! I should be sleeping, but instead I'm going to waste way too much time on here because there's over 400 reblogs in my draft folder I've been meaning to get to... also, Tumblr is still unfollowing people for me, so that's fun... gonna try to fix that now. Love y'all!!

Warnings: sexual tension, mild pstd

WC: 3,095

The streets of Alderaan weren’t made for soldiers. They were made for scholars and artists and children rife with an eagerness to spend their lives in the pursuit of joy rather than victory. I kept waiting for harsh looks and rude gestures, for shop keepers to close their doors and what few guards monitored the streets to follow us with rifles ready, but we were met with none of the prejudice so often harbored toward the clone army. Our armor instilled neither fear nor anger in those around us despite how it marked us as everything their peaceful ways preached against, and part of me fell in love with them for that.

“Wrecker…” Hunter called once more, impatience drawing his brother’s name out in a weary groan, and I felt my lips pull into a wide grin upon turning to find the towering man wandering toward a stall doting dozens of various treasures from delicate pastries to wooden puzzles, helmet perched atop his forehead. His lips bunched in something just shy of a pout, limbs dragging in clear reluctance as he forced himself back to his position.

“We’ll have time to check everything out after.” The Sergeant reminded him in a sighed apology.

“Yeah, yeah; I know.” Wrecker responded morosely, and my breath caught in a quiet chuckle.

“Given the average size of this event, it would likely take several days to see it in its entirety.” Tech corrected.

“Days?” I asked, turning to him in shock. He glanced toward me only briefly before letting his attention return to the growing crowds around us.

“Correct. While only locals are granted authority to sell goods here, the festival has become so renowned that most every artisan on the planet participates.” I glanced around once more, marveling anew at all I saw. It was easy to imagine that the majority of the venders stretching out atop roads dusted in the first crystalline veneer of fresh snow had flocked from distant systems eager to monopolize on a heritage that meant nothing more to them than a chance to earn credits, but to learn that only those born and raised to truly appreciate the meaning behind the event could sell wears created from passion in the stead of capitalism again left me stunned at the innate beauty that shown through this world and its people.

That beauty wasn’t limited to their customs and architecture. I’d barely noticed the city in our initial approach. Each massive structure was designed to mimic the striking breadth of sharp peaks surrounding them, allowing the manmade buildings to nearly vanish among the landscape lest they tarnish the natural splendor of mountains coated in snow so pure the shadows looked nearly sapphire in the dimming light of the evening sun. Even from orbit, there had been no spiderwebs of light marring the pristine dance of blues and greens beneath the delicate lacework of opal clouds swirling about the atmosphere, and the want to cherish that beauty, the willingness of these peoples to trade military prowess for art no longer felt quite so foolish.

“This is the place. Fix your helmet, Wrecker.” Hunter stated as he veered away from the main path toward arched doors of elaborately etched transparisteel leading into one of the impossibly tall buildings. The room within was no less elegant. Ceilings decorated in sprawling images and symbols stretched several meters overhead supported by grandiose marble columns lining the central walkway.

“Tech, what are” Before I could ask for some history of the overhead designs, a warm voice filled the lobby.

“Ah! You must be the renowned Clone Force 99!” Even from afar, I could see the kindness in his eyes. There was a pride about him. It showed in the gliding movements of unrushed strides carrying him across the gleaming tile floors, in the lightness of his welcoming gesture as his arms flared out in greeting, but that pride carried none of the haughty superiority that had nearly become synonymous with those of his standing. It was the softness in the set of his shoulders, the absence of that need to keep his chin raised that he might never see the ground he trod upon; it was from the unfaltering gentleness of his smile that I found myself so willingly robbed of what reservations I’d held toward those with such a pompous title.

“Senator Organa.” It was easy to forget the endless roles Hunter had to fill, but to watch him slip so effortlessly from older brother to Sergeant left me standing just a bit taller beside him. “Sounds like Commander Cody warned you about us.” Organa’s face lit with a friendly laughter, unashamed of the lines it drew atop sepia skin that was clearly no stranger to such joy as his hands fell to rest atop his stomach, fingers twining loosely together.

“He certainly did!” He replied, again letting his words carry boldly through the near empty room. “I trust there’ll be no need to worry about your reputation during your stay?” He teased.

“Our mission success rate is unparalleled among the GAR.” Tech objected, and I had to steel myself to keep silent in the face of his offence.

“As is the tendency for your missions to become… complicated.” Hunter let out an amused huff at the Senator’s prodding.

“Given the kind of missions we usually take, I think that only proves just how well we handle ourselves when circumstances… change.” The subtle boast in his response wasn’t lost on the man before him, and Organa let out a hearty chuckle. “I’m not anticipating any excitement tonight, though.” He added, head dipping slightly.

“On the contrary!” The Senator boomed, “I expect tonight to offer plenty of excitement! Though not, I hope, the variety you all seem used to.” Wrecker’s attention seemed to pique.

“You mean there’s somethin’ more goin’ on than people sellin’ stuff and makin’ speeches?” He asked.

“Oh, I won’t ruin the surprise.” Organa’s nearly black eyes twinkled with glee before drawing a quick breath and leaning back slightly. “Now then, Sergeant, I believe you and I have business. Meanwhile, I’ve had rooms prepared for you all. I understand you’ve had a particularly challenging few weeks, and, while a comfortable bed and good food don’t fix all of life’s woes, they certainly don’t hurt.” His gaze landed pointedly on me as he spoke, and I felt my chest tighten at the uncertainty of just how much he knew.

“That’s… unnecessary, but greatly appreciated. Thank you, Senator.” Hunter replied after a beat too long of silence, and I belatedly nodded. Organa merely offered a soft smile before turning to lead Hunter away.

“I could get used to this!” Even Wrecker’s voice barely carried into the hallway as he eagerly vanished through one of several doors lining walls adorned in shimmering tapestry and flowing architecture.

“Think you’ll be able to fall asleep on a real bed?” I asked Echo, immediately earning a scoff.

“I’m more worried I won’t be able to go back to sleeping in the hammock.” He retorted, gaze wandering around the entrance to his room a moment before treading in.

“Given Crosshair’s new sleeping arrangements, it would be logical for you to simply take his bunk.” Tech replied absent a moment’s hesitation or hint of scandal, but I instantly had to trap my lips between my teeth in a vain attempt to stifle the heat creeping up my neck.

Turning purposefully away from the grin I knew would toy with those lips upon noting my undeniable blush, I quickly approached my own room, unsurprised at the sound of footsteps following just behind me.

“Not worried that they might have hidden cameras?” I asked, glancing back to watch Crosshair set his bucket atop the half-wall separating the entryway from what appeared to be a kitchenette. The suite was small but no less extravagant for it. The foyer led to a room containing nothing more than a bed and a wall concealed entirely in pale blue curtains, beyond which I could only assume lay massive windows to grant a clear view of the surrounding mountains. It was the bed, however, that trapped my attention.

“They don’t.” Cross replied, stepping forward just enough to enter my line of sight, and I could offer no objection to the knowing look he shot me.

Ivory linens lay atop the mattress without hint of wrinkle or stain, and likely cost more than I could ever justify. I didn’t doubt how lush they’d feel against my skin, nor how soft the pillows surely were, but those thoughts meant nothing beneath the temptation of finally being granted the chance for a rare moment of true privacy with the man before me. I couldn’t chase the image of him lying bare against those lustrous sheets from my mind, nor did I want to, and as that smirk grew on lips I’d never bore for the taste of, I held no doubt that he could guess exactly what wants left me quiet for just a moment too long.

“Cross.” The warning in my voice when I finally managed to grasp enough self-restraint to speak only left his shoulders dancing beneath silent laughter.

“I didn’t say anything.” He replied, words dripping with every unspoken pleasure the night promised, and the way he turned toward me, the way his body coiled in those few steps he stole across the foyer, that undeniable sensation of prey staring down the very thing hunting me with an eager anticipation that thickened the air around us and left me breathing that much harder only proved just how helpless I was when he looked at me like that, like I was the answer to his every unsatiated desire, amber eyes lit with an intoxicating hunger. When he reached for me, when his finger slid along the tender flesh of my neck, my jaw, touch gently guiding my chin up to meet him, what could I do if not let myself melt into the heat so effortlessly stoked by that featherlight caress?

Three sharp bangs wrenched us from that haze with an unapologetic abruptness.

“You lot can test the bed later! Hunter says to meet ‘im in the lobby!” Wrecker shouted from just outside the room. Crosshair let out something torn between a groan and a growl, jaw tensing about lips hinting at a scowl as narrowed eyes glared toward the still closed door, and I couldn’t stifle a resigned huff of laughter. With a quiet sigh, I pushed myself up to taste his lips if only for a moment.

Those golden eyes held none of the frustration I’d expected to find as I reluctantly pulled away, and I readily welcomed the giddy weightlessness at the sight of the soft smirk easing all but the faintest traces of tension from his face.

“One of these days,” I started, words hushed but no less rich with affection for it, “No missions, no cramped quarters, no worrying about being overheard or seen…” I let my hands drag delicately up his arms as I spoke, thrilling in the thought.

“Sounds like wishful thinking.” He retorted, but there was no malice in it; no sense of belittlement for such a far-off dream.

“Mhm.” I hummed absently, stealing one final kiss before stepping back to retrieve my helmet.

Wrecker’d just raised his fist toward the door again when it slid open, and the sly grin dancing beneath beaming eyes left me biting back laughter as a subtle heat threatened to color my cheeks.

The sun was just beginning to caress the western peaks, sending the city into a premature dusk rich with soft pastels that danced through now gentle wisps of clouds in soft pinks and purples. The fresh snow coating the surrounding mountains reflected the stunning display of colors until the entirety of the range seemed more painting than reality.

“As much as we want?!” Hunter had just finished explaining that Senator Organa granted us a generous stipend to ‘enjoy the festivities properly,’ and I could feel the excitement bursting from Wrecker as we started down a side street.

“I feel the need to remind you of the limited cargo space of the Marauder.” Tech commented in something just shy of resignation before his brother could rush off.

“Maybe avoid bankrupting him.” Echo added.

“Ey, I’m not the one who was droolin’ over them places by the hanger.” He retorted.

“I hardly see how one could compare extravagant spending on food with potentially life-saving upgrades to the Marauder.” The sideways glare Tech sent his brother left me stifling a cough of laughter. I half expected Hunter to step in, but a brief glance revealed the easy grin just softening his lips, and I didn’t have to wonder over the cause. It felt like ages since we’d had a moment together absent clenched jaws and averted eyes.

“Not our fault he gave them his credit stick.” Crosshair said with a conspiratory smirk. I bumped my shoulder against his at the obvious bate, pleased that Echo merely shot his brother an unamused look.

“We can debate how much of the Senator’s credits to spend later – we’re almost to the spot he suggested.” Hunter said dismissively, voice lightened with an almost foreign ease as he led us toward an empty field. I looked around expectantly but saw only the deep blues of shadowed snow blanketing the stretch of empty land, noting a handful of families nestling down atop thick blankets with eager eyes watching the darkening sky.

“Did he give you some clue about what we’re looking for?” I asked, attention wandering briefly toward the first hints of stars above us before returning to watch more people begin filling the once empty park to claim just enough space for a moment’s rest.

“Just said it would be worth the trip out here.” He replied with a shrug. My brow hitched, but he offered no further insight.

The violent burst of crimson filled the sky without hint of preamble, the rich color soaking into the snow around us like fresh blood. I didn't see the whimsical shape it drew in the darkness, nor the looks of wonder and glee in the citizens around me. As the thunderous boom shook the very air, I saw only the flames burning decimated chunks of wall and flesh alike in the Separatist ballroom, the tower of rumble that had pinned me to the ground, the ruined shell of my ship after Wolffe shot us down, and my body shrank back with a sharp gasp. I didn't realize I’d all but thrown myself toward Crosshair until long after his arms locked around me and his quiet “easy” faded into the broken stillness.

Chest bucking in short, frantic breaths, I belatedly took in the faint visage of a rose fading to nothing as the smoldering remnants of the firework burned out, leaving only awestruck faces and the faint scent of sulfur in its wake. A firework. No encroaching enemies. No threat of injury or death. Still, when sapphire bloomed into a writhing dragon, I couldn't suppress the way my body flinched at the wave of pressure that followed even as my cheeks burned upon finding looks of concern on those around me.

“I’m fine.” I loathed the tension cloying even those short words and pointedly pushed myself away from Crosshair as though it might validate my claim, “just startled me.” None voiced the doubt that so clearly tugged at the edges of their lips and darkened their eyes. I wasn’t sure if I preferred their silence or longed for them to speak if only to grant me excuse to justify my feigned indifference.

Swallowing back claims I knew to be void of truth, I turned my gaze back to the display above in hopes of forcing some earnest appreciation for the increasingly complex orchestra of flame and thunder. There was no denying how violently my heart raced in echo of each booming explosion, but neither could I deny the very real splender of it. Plumes of tufted hair appeared to bristle aback the shoulders of a vern tiger, and I could nearly see the gleam of water undulating along the smooth skin of a thranta. I couldn't fathom how the artists managed to paint such elaborate images in the fleeting bursts of flame, but their beauty and detail slowly eased from me those cursed remnant of panic.

I wondered if Wrecker was calculating how precisely the explosives would need to be packed to create the intricate shapes or if Tech was itemizing which chemicals might have been used to make such brilliant colors; if Hunter could smell the salts before they burst into flames, and if Echo was fighting back a reaction as violent as mine had been. When I looked at Crosshair, however; when I sought him out with thoughts of how wonderous the displays above us must be for him, I was surprised to find him forsaking the stunning display above us. He didn’t falter when I saw him staring at me, expression almost soft in a way that sent ripples of warmth dancing beneath my skin.

“Not interested in watching the fireworks?” I asked quietly, expecting some teasing insult or dismissive remark, but still, he didn’t falter.

“I am.” For just a moment, confusion drew the beginnings of a frown from me, but then another burst of light erupted from the darkness, and my breath caught as wisps of emerald shimmered atop the gold of his eyes. Without a word, his lips twitched into a tiny smirk.

In an instant, I forgot about the beauty outshining the very stars above us, mesmerized instead by the heat coiling within my chest as he leaned subtly closer to me, by the way his hair shone in the ever-changing hues and the fresh memory of his tall form crowding me mere feet from that tantalizing bed. I watched his eyes darkened as though he'd read my thoughts, pupils dilating with the same want leaving my skin flushed.

“It’s… been a long day. I think I'm going to call it an early night.” I barely wasted thought for some excuse, body lingering a moment longer, frozen beneath the intensity of those sharp eyes if only to savor the thrill it sent dancing across my skin before forcing myself to turn away, “I'll check out the market tomorrow.” Crosshair didn't bother making an excuse of his own as he moved to follow me, and Wrecker's low chuckle left me certain there was no doubt toward my true intent.

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[staycalmandhugaclone]

Omega: truth or dare?

Crosshair: this is *not* a slumber party!

Omega: but it kinda feels like one!

Crosshair: we are in a prison cell!!

Crosshair:

Crosshair:

Crosshair: dare.

[staycalmandhugaclone]

This is breathtaking!

Crosshair's Suite | original music inspired by "Star Wars: The Bad Batch"

Beautiful ❤️

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Soooo... I have a new ship. But also a new headcanon. Crosshair's hand-to-hand is substantially better than previous seasons. Can't help but wonder just how far into retraining Hemlock got with him...

Wrecker | Hunter

Crosshair vs. Ventress

[staycalmandhugaclone]

... if you don't share how exactly @superiorsniper is to blame for this, we'll just have to use our imagination...

i'm back on my bullshit

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Messed this poor thing up when I ran my hand over wet ink, but thought I'd toss it up here anyway.

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Omega, holding Crosshair's head between her hands: What are you again?

Crosshair, sighing: Cherished and loved

Omega: And don't you forget it

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Sooooo is gentle parenting something you got taught during ARC training or more of a thing you picked up from 99?

ARC stands for advanced recon commando. Parenting skills were about as far from our training as you can imagine.

Gentleness, on the other hand, we learned from each other.

[staycalmandhugaclone]

I love you Wrecker

Awww you didn't hafta hide behind an anon, @superiorsniper. Ya coulda just said so! C'mere!

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Ode to Artists Pt 3

Part (3) of Ode to Artists, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

Heya! I've finally given up being able to type on an actual computer, so I'm mostly writing on my phone now (formatting this post was a pain 😆), but at least that means I get to sneak a couple minutes of writing here and there! I should be sleeping, but instead I'm going to waste way too much time on here because there's over 400 reblogs in my draft folder I've been meaning to get to... also, Tumblr is still unfollowing people for me, so that's fun... gonna try to fix that now. Love y'all!!

Warnings: sexual tension, mild pstd

WC: 3,095

The streets of Alderaan weren’t made for soldiers. They were made for scholars and artists and children rife with an eagerness to spend their lives in the pursuit of joy rather than victory. I kept waiting for harsh looks and rude gestures, for shop keepers to close their doors and what few guards monitored the streets to follow us with rifles ready, but we were met with none of the prejudice so often harbored toward the clone army. Our armor instilled neither fear nor anger in those around us despite how it marked us as everything their peaceful ways preached against, and part of me fell in love with them for that.

“Wrecker…” Hunter called once more, impatience drawing his brother’s name out in a weary groan, and I felt my lips pull into a wide grin upon turning to find the towering man wandering toward a stall doting dozens of various treasures from delicate pastries to wooden puzzles, helmet perched atop his forehead. His lips bunched in something just shy of a pout, limbs dragging in clear reluctance as he forced himself back to his position.

“We’ll have time to check everything out after.” The Sergeant reminded him in a sighed apology.

“Yeah, yeah; I know.” Wrecker responded morosely, and my breath caught in a quiet chuckle.

“Given the average size of this event, it would likely take several days to see it in its entirety.” Tech corrected.

“Days?” I asked, turning to him in shock. He glanced toward me only briefly before letting his attention return to the growing crowds around us.

“Correct. While only locals are granted authority to sell goods here, the festival has become so renowned that most every artisan on the planet participates.” I glanced around once more, marveling anew at all I saw. It was easy to imagine that the majority of the venders stretching out atop roads dusted in the first crystalline veneer of fresh snow had flocked from distant systems eager to monopolize on a heritage that meant nothing more to them than a chance to earn credits, but to learn that only those born and raised to truly appreciate the meaning behind the event could sell wears created from passion in the stead of capitalism again left me stunned at the innate beauty that shown through this world and its people.

That beauty wasn’t limited to their customs and architecture. I’d barely noticed the city in our initial approach. Each massive structure was designed to mimic the striking breadth of sharp peaks surrounding them, allowing the manmade buildings to nearly vanish among the landscape lest they tarnish the natural splendor of mountains coated in snow so pure the shadows looked nearly sapphire in the dimming light of the evening sun. Even from orbit, there had been no spiderwebs of light marring the pristine dance of blues and greens beneath the delicate lacework of opal clouds swirling about the atmosphere, and the want to cherish that beauty, the willingness of these peoples to trade military prowess for art no longer felt quite so foolish.

“This is the place. Fix your helmet, Wrecker.” Hunter stated as he veered away from the main path toward arched doors of elaborately etched transparisteel leading into one of the impossibly tall buildings. The room within was no less elegant. Ceilings decorated in sprawling images and symbols stretched several meters overhead supported by grandiose marble columns lining the central walkway.

“Tech, what are” Before I could ask for some history of the overhead designs, a warm voice filled the lobby.

“Ah! You must be the renowned Clone Force 99!” Even from afar, I could see the kindness in his eyes. There was a pride about him. It showed in the gliding movements of unrushed strides carrying him across the gleaming tile floors, in the lightness of his welcoming gesture as his arms flared out in greeting, but that pride carried none of the haughty superiority that had nearly become synonymous with those of his standing. It was the softness in the set of his shoulders, the absence of that need to keep his chin raised that he might never see the ground he trod upon; it was from the unfaltering gentleness of his smile that I found myself so willingly robbed of what reservations I’d held toward those with such a pompous title.

“Senator Organa.” It was easy to forget the endless roles Hunter had to fill, but to watch him slip so effortlessly from older brother to Sergeant left me standing just a bit taller beside him. “Sounds like Commander Cody warned you about us.” Organa’s face lit with a friendly laughter, unashamed of the lines it drew atop sepia skin that was clearly no stranger to such joy as his hands fell to rest atop his stomach, fingers twining loosely together.

“He certainly did!” He replied, again letting his words carry boldly through the near empty room. “I trust there’ll be no need to worry about your reputation during your stay?” He teased.

“Our mission success rate is unparalleled among the GAR.” Tech objected, and I had to steel myself to keep silent in the face of his offence.

“As is the tendency for your missions to become… complicated.” Hunter let out an amused huff at the Senator’s prodding.

“Given the kind of missions we usually take, I think that only proves just how well we handle ourselves when circumstances… change.” The subtle boast in his response wasn’t lost on the man before him, and Organa let out a hearty chuckle. “I’m not anticipating any excitement tonight, though.” He added, head dipping slightly.

“On the contrary!” The Senator boomed, “I expect tonight to offer plenty of excitement! Though not, I hope, the variety you all seem used to.” Wrecker’s attention seemed to pique.

“You mean there’s somethin’ more goin’ on than people sellin’ stuff and makin’ speeches?” He asked.

“Oh, I won’t ruin the surprise.” Organa’s nearly black eyes twinkled with glee before drawing a quick breath and leaning back slightly. “Now then, Sergeant, I believe you and I have business. Meanwhile, I’ve had rooms prepared for you all. I understand you’ve had a particularly challenging few weeks, and, while a comfortable bed and good food don’t fix all of life’s woes, they certainly don’t hurt.” His gaze landed pointedly on me as he spoke, and I felt my chest tighten at the uncertainty of just how much he knew.

“That’s… unnecessary, but greatly appreciated. Thank you, Senator.” Hunter replied after a beat too long of silence, and I belatedly nodded. Organa merely offered a soft smile before turning to lead Hunter away.

“I could get used to this!” Even Wrecker’s voice barely carried into the hallway as he eagerly vanished through one of several doors lining walls adorned in shimmering tapestry and flowing architecture.

“Think you’ll be able to fall asleep on a real bed?” I asked Echo, immediately earning a scoff.

“I’m more worried I won’t be able to go back to sleeping in the hammock.” He retorted, gaze wandering around the entrance to his room a moment before treading in.

“Given Crosshair’s new sleeping arrangements, it would be logical for you to simply take his bunk.” Tech replied absent a moment’s hesitation or hint of scandal, but I instantly had to trap my lips between my teeth in a vain attempt to stifle the heat creeping up my neck.

Turning purposefully away from the grin I knew would toy with those lips upon noting my undeniable blush, I quickly approached my own room, unsurprised at the sound of footsteps following just behind me.

“Not worried that they might have hidden cameras?” I asked, glancing back to watch Crosshair set his bucket atop the half-wall separating the entryway from what appeared to be a kitchenette. The suite was small but no less extravagant for it. The foyer led to a room containing nothing more than a bed and a wall concealed entirely in pale blue curtains, beyond which I could only assume lay massive windows to grant a clear view of the surrounding mountains. It was the bed, however, that trapped my attention.

“They don’t.” Cross replied, stepping forward just enough to enter my line of sight, and I could offer no objection to the knowing look he shot me.

Ivory linens lay atop the mattress without hint of wrinkle or stain, and likely cost more than I could ever justify. I didn’t doubt how lush they’d feel against my skin, nor how soft the pillows surely were, but those thoughts meant nothing beneath the temptation of finally being granted the chance for a rare moment of true privacy with the man before me. I couldn’t chase the image of him lying bare against those lustrous sheets from my mind, nor did I want to, and as that smirk grew on lips I’d never bore for the taste of, I held no doubt that he could guess exactly what wants left me quiet for just a moment too long.

“Cross.” The warning in my voice when I finally managed to grasp enough self-restraint to speak only left his shoulders dancing beneath silent laughter.

“I didn’t say anything.” He replied, words dripping with every unspoken pleasure the night promised, and the way he turned toward me, the way his body coiled in those few steps he stole across the foyer, that undeniable sensation of prey staring down the very thing hunting me with an eager anticipation that thickened the air around us and left me breathing that much harder only proved just how helpless I was when he looked at me like that, like I was the answer to his every unsatiated desire, amber eyes lit with an intoxicating hunger. When he reached for me, when his finger slid along the tender flesh of my neck, my jaw, touch gently guiding my chin up to meet him, what could I do if not let myself melt into the heat so effortlessly stoked by that featherlight caress?

Three sharp bangs wrenched us from that haze with an unapologetic abruptness.

“You lot can test the bed later! Hunter says to meet ‘im in the lobby!” Wrecker shouted from just outside the room. Crosshair let out something torn between a groan and a growl, jaw tensing about lips hinting at a scowl as narrowed eyes glared toward the still closed door, and I couldn’t stifle a resigned huff of laughter. With a quiet sigh, I pushed myself up to taste his lips if only for a moment.

Those golden eyes held none of the frustration I’d expected to find as I reluctantly pulled away, and I readily welcomed the giddy weightlessness at the sight of the soft smirk easing all but the faintest traces of tension from his face.

“One of these days,” I started, words hushed but no less rich with affection for it, “No missions, no cramped quarters, no worrying about being overheard or seen…” I let my hands drag delicately up his arms as I spoke, thrilling in the thought.

“Sounds like wishful thinking.” He retorted, but there was no malice in it; no sense of belittlement for such a far-off dream.

“Mhm.” I hummed absently, stealing one final kiss before stepping back to retrieve my helmet.

Wrecker’d just raised his fist toward the door again when it slid open, and the sly grin dancing beneath beaming eyes left me biting back laughter as a subtle heat threatened to color my cheeks.

The sun was just beginning to caress the western peaks, sending the city into a premature dusk rich with soft pastels that danced through now gentle wisps of clouds in soft pinks and purples. The fresh snow coating the surrounding mountains reflected the stunning display of colors until the entirety of the range seemed more painting than reality.

“As much as we want?!” Hunter had just finished explaining that Senator Organa granted us a generous stipend to ‘enjoy the festivities properly,’ and I could feel the excitement bursting from Wrecker as we started down a side street.

“I feel the need to remind you of the limited cargo space of the Marauder.” Tech commented in something just shy of resignation before his brother could rush off.

“Maybe avoid bankrupting him.” Echo added.

“Ey, I’m not the one who was droolin’ over them places by the hanger.” He retorted.

“I hardly see how one could compare extravagant spending on food with potentially life-saving upgrades to the Marauder.” The sideways glare Tech sent his brother left me stifling a cough of laughter. I half expected Hunter to step in, but a brief glance revealed the easy grin just softening his lips, and I didn’t have to wonder over the cause. It felt like ages since we’d had a moment together absent clenched jaws and averted eyes.

“Not our fault he gave them his credit stick.” Crosshair said with a conspiratory smirk. I bumped my shoulder against his at the obvious bate, pleased that Echo merely shot his brother an unamused look.

“We can debate how much of the Senator’s credits to spend later – we’re almost to the spot he suggested.” Hunter said dismissively, voice lightened with an almost foreign ease as he led us toward an empty field. I looked around expectantly but saw only the deep blues of shadowed snow blanketing the stretch of empty land, noting a handful of families nestling down atop thick blankets with eager eyes watching the darkening sky.

“Did he give you some clue about what we’re looking for?” I asked, attention wandering briefly toward the first hints of stars above us before returning to watch more people begin filling the once empty park to claim just enough space for a moment’s rest.

“Just said it would be worth the trip out here.” He replied with a shrug. My brow hitched, but he offered no further insight.

The violent burst of crimson filled the sky without hint of preamble, the rich color soaking into the snow around us like fresh blood. I didn't see the whimsical shape it drew in the darkness, nor the looks of wonder and glee in the citizens around me. As the thunderous boom shook the very air, I saw only the flames burning decimated chunks of wall and flesh alike in the Separatist ballroom, the tower of rumble that had pinned me to the ground, the ruined shell of my ship after Wolffe shot us down, and my body shrank back with a sharp gasp. I didn't realize I’d all but thrown myself toward Crosshair until long after his arms locked around me and his quiet “easy” faded into the broken stillness.

Chest bucking in short, frantic breaths, I belatedly took in the faint visage of a rose fading to nothing as the smoldering remnants of the firework burned out, leaving only awestruck faces and the faint scent of sulfur in its wake. A firework. No encroaching enemies. No threat of injury or death. Still, when sapphire bloomed into a writhing dragon, I couldn't suppress the way my body flinched at the wave of pressure that followed even as my cheeks burned upon finding looks of concern on those around me.

“I’m fine.” I loathed the tension cloying even those short words and pointedly pushed myself away from Crosshair as though it might validate my claim, “just startled me.” None voiced the doubt that so clearly tugged at the edges of their lips and darkened their eyes. I wasn’t sure if I preferred their silence or longed for them to speak if only to grant me excuse to justify my feigned indifference.

Swallowing back claims I knew to be void of truth, I turned my gaze back to the display above in hopes of forcing some earnest appreciation for the increasingly complex orchestra of flame and thunder. There was no denying how violently my heart raced in echo of each booming explosion, but neither could I deny the very real splender of it. Plumes of tufted hair appeared to bristle aback the shoulders of a vern tiger, and I could nearly see the gleam of water undulating along the smooth skin of a thranta. I couldn't fathom how the artists managed to paint such elaborate images in the fleeting bursts of flame, but their beauty and detail slowly eased from me those cursed remnant of panic.

I wondered if Wrecker was calculating how precisely the explosives would need to be packed to create the intricate shapes or if Tech was itemizing which chemicals might have been used to make such brilliant colors; if Hunter could smell the salts before they burst into flames, and if Echo was fighting back a reaction as violent as mine had been. When I looked at Crosshair, however; when I sought him out with thoughts of how wonderous the displays above us must be for him, I was surprised to find him forsaking the stunning display above us. He didn’t falter when I saw him staring at me, expression almost soft in a way that sent ripples of warmth dancing beneath my skin.

“Not interested in watching the fireworks?” I asked quietly, expecting some teasing insult or dismissive remark, but still, he didn’t falter.

“I am.” For just a moment, confusion drew the beginnings of a frown from me, but then another burst of light erupted from the darkness, and my breath caught as wisps of emerald shimmered atop the gold of his eyes. Without a word, his lips twitched into a tiny smirk.

In an instant, I forgot about the beauty outshining the very stars above us, mesmerized instead by the heat coiling within my chest as he leaned subtly closer to me, by the way his hair shone in the ever-changing hues and the fresh memory of his tall form crowding me mere feet from that tantalizing bed. I watched his eyes darkened as though he'd read my thoughts, pupils dilating with the same want leaving my skin flushed.

“It’s… been a long day. I think I'm going to call it an early night.” I barely wasted thought for some excuse, body lingering a moment longer, frozen beneath the intensity of those sharp eyes if only to savor the thrill it sent dancing across my skin before forcing myself to turn away, “I'll check out the market tomorrow.” Crosshair didn't bother making an excuse of his own as he moved to follow me, and Wrecker's low chuckle left me certain there was no doubt toward my true intent.

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