Hope

You're so sweet anon!! <3 We love some soft crosshair! GN reader that is a medic! (gender: doctor)

13- pulling your lover closer by the waistband

22- smiling in-between kisses

24- caressing your lover’s cheek

Smile

It was rare for Crosshair to be as light, as soft as this. He was normally either demanding or offset, distant. Not that he was a bad partner, he was just reserved, quiet, which made soft moments like this shocking to you and probably surprising to him. 

You had been folding she sheets in the medical ward. Being a medic was typically so busy, and such a rush, you hardly had time to actually get to mediocre things that kept the medbay running, such as cleaning or folding or rewraping roles of bandages that had unwittingly become unrolled through the day or use or wear and tear- perhaps they simply became joustled in your busy movements and schedule. You hummed to yourself as you rewrapped the bandage, savoring the slowness of the day.

You didn't hear him come in, not really, and you didn't even think to look up until you heard your door sliding shut. You felt a smile press to your lips as Crosshair removed the grey bucket on his head. His expression was indecipherable but somehow... Soft.

"Well!" You set down the bandages on the cot. "Cross, you're back-"

His fingers reached forward and grasped your waistband, tugging you in. You gasped softly as your body met his, both hands landing abruptly on his chest. You squeaked before his lips crashed into yours, his head rotating to the side to properly meet you.

Your fingers flexed in reflex, shock, but your body relaxed against him, a hum emitting lightly from your lips as he pulled you back only to return for more, kissing you again and again. The dent in your heart that was there when he was off on missions puffed out, fully filling up. Crosshair had a tendency to do that to you- despite his sharp edges, he was enough to fill you, hold you and not cut you.

Was... Was he smiling?

You tugged away, eyes skimming his face, and you smiled, watching his lips twist into a grin. The teeth were white, clean (probably from all the toothpicks), bright, and the sight of his smile was rare. Your fingers ran up his cheek and your thumb brushed where his nose wrinkled. "Hi," You whispered, hands moving over his cheeks, the uncharacteristic grin contagious.

THE WAR HAS ENDED AND PAPA PALPS IS DONE FOR LADS, LETS GET SOME KISSIN'

___

You shoved your way through the bustling crowds, the lightsaber from your belt bouncing on your thigh. Rex's ship should be coming in soon- already, you were seeing boys of the 501st leave the dock, laughing and cheering, reminding who owed who drinks and what exactly their celebrations would entail.

You ducked under someone's arm. A laugh followed you, the wide eyed eyed and grinning Jedi, and you resumed running.

Blue blurred around you until a voice called your name. Rex.

Rex.

You whipped around and saw the clone, the man, staring at you, helmet in his hands, as if he was in the middle of taking it off as you ran past. "Rex," His name caught in your throat, a breath of air.

Rex's helmet fell on the floor with a clatter- there was no need for it, no need to mask the love in his eyes as you barrelled for him and collapsed in his arms in front of all his brothers. His lips somehow found yours as he picked you up and spun. You were only able to kiss him twice because laughter was bubbling so much from your lips.

Some of his brothers had surrounded you, cheering, and you were very certain you spotted Fives accepting a few credits from Jesse and Kix.

Crosshair??? SHY??? ahahahahah

.... Yes (GN medic reader!)

---

Crosshair was not shy. At all. He simply liked to wait for the right moment. Be patient.

The new medic was humming, currently cleaning their gear. "New" was relative- the medic had been assigned by the republic because the boys of the Batch had been in med bags more than just about any other squad. But the medic was newer than the rest of them, even Echo. But while "newer" was more accurate, the medic did not mind being referred to as "newbie" by the rest of the Batch.

He shifted the toothpick in his mouth and grimaced. He hated the unflavored ones- wood was stale on his tongue, but he moved his jaw, making the most out of it. During the check-ups, the medic had joked that Crosshair's teeth were the best (much to Tech's dismay) because of all the toothpicks.

He showed his teeth around the doc a little more often.

Currently, all his weight was pressed on his shoulder and the door frame. He picked the toothpick out of his lips as the medic glanced back at him, a grin lighting up the room despite the florescent lighting. That smile...

Crosshair hesitated before crossing to the medic. He was tall, gangly. So yes, the medic had to look up at him. The grin on their pace pressed. "What do you need, Cross?"

Cross. Half his name, and half his body refused to work- legs simmered away to jelly.

"I just," He managed. "I wanted to say something." The words slithered from his lips- they had a tendency to do that when he was nervous.

Why the hell was he nervous? He could shoot and score a headshot from just about kliks away, steady handed, without so much as batting an eye. And this person, seemingly insignificant in the whole galaxy, made his steady trigger finger falter.

"What did you want to say?" The words pulled Crosshair from his thoughts and reeled him back in. Amusement laced a voice that was normally coated in bedside manner and morphine.

Without thinking, he leaned down and quickly pressed a kiss to the medic's cheeks, toothpick resting between his fingers. He drew back, staring at the floor. Maybe he didn't need to actually say anything- maybe the doctor would get it.

A hand, long and intelligent, drew to the medic's cheek over where Crosshair had just kissed.

You know me too well, anon 🥵

___

You laughed and quietly closed the door behind you. "You came to see me?" You turned back to face Tech, who had removed his helmet. Out here, in space, with you and these soldiers, it was tight. But you and Tech... You had gotten close. Many sleepless nights were spent with countless cups of caf, restless conversation, and calculating strategies had slowly devolved into personal words and a strict string of romantic tension.

"Yes, general." Tech's voice was soft but taut, the intelligent lilt rummaging against your ears. "I just wanted to come by and ask you about a particular issue with the return strategy."

"Mhm." You turned to the holotable as Tech stepped up next to you, long fingers pressing to the holopad. A squadron of separatist ships popped up into exsistance, coating his face in the gentle blue light. "What question?"

Tech began listing off questions, his hand lightly trailing over the rail of the holotable. Your eyes- they fooled you, and your irises were glued to his hands, those elegant fingers under gloves. His stance was steady and confident- it always was when strategy and calculations came up.

"... Distracted, General?"

Your eyes snapped up to his, but instead of a quizzical and concerned look you were greeted with a somewhat sly glint. You paused, then felt yourself grin. "Actually, yeah, I am. Pretty distracted." You leaned back on the table and Tech stepped in, slowly, watching for your reactions.

"By me?"

"Of course."

Tech licked his lips and his eyes dipped to yours, briefly, and your mouth, before he purred, "May I distract you more?"

"Of course." You chuckled, and he barricaded himself against you. His mouth brushed on yours, slow, hot, and you felt something crawl up the back of your spine. His mouth lingered before diving in, catching you with a desperation, hands grasping you as if you were the last grip he had on life. Tech huffed against you, and your legs pressed back on the table as his mouth moved against you'd in tandem, speaking but not saying much.

You broke away, hands on his chest, just to laugh. "Trooper. I think this would be easier in my quarters."

Why must you hurt me in this way

___

"I'm sorry." You said, softly, lowering the data pad. The screen simply read, ARC Trooper Gone Rogue: CT-27-5555 attempts to ASSASSINATE the Chancellor !

Echo stared at the screen. The only thing that had kept color from his time in the separatist facility was his eyes. Those brilliant cinnamon eyes. Everything else about him had taken on a grey pallor- his skin, once rich and warm, had become a thin and weak shade of smoke, only a hint of his tanned skin laying underneath. His hair, dark and curly, had only just started growing back, the tufts giving the illusion of hovering around the knobs in his skull. "The tabloids said this."

You nodded, quietly, expecting the sensible- anger, yelling, frustration that they would lie in exchange for sensationalism.

Instead he stared at the screen, quietly. His hands shook, the datapad trembling. "He was right," Echo whispered, lowering it into his lap. "And no one wanted to know."

The air in the room was still as his eyes switched to you, brilliant and large in his shrunken cheeks as he heaved a sob. "And I lost him. He never even knew I was-"

Your feet were moving, your hands were moving, beige you were even aware of it. You captured him against you and held him tight.

tech and his artist girlfriend coming right up!!!

Perhaps I will do... More 😏 paint can be sexy

___

When Tech entered the ship, he saw her hunched over her piles of papers. He only smiled and stopped, leaning on the doorway to watch. She was drawing, of course- when was she ever not? Art had always been her strong suit, her passion. Even as she worked, hunched, hair more in a tizzy than usual, tossed about in a way that only artists toss their hair when they have run their fingers through it countless times, she was the most magnificent thing, fascinating to his quizzical brain.

Tech did not consider himself creative- mathematical, mechanical, yes. He could draw, but little beyond human anatomy or mechanical blueprints. Opposites, maybe, did attract.

The scuff of his boot on the floor drew her eyes from her art. She grinned, a slow process, mind still art-drunk. "Tech!"

"I did not mean to disturb you. Alor be ner runi." He kissed the top of her head, the forehead, though graphite was smudged across it. Paints were limited in these parts, so she utilized the cheaper graphites far more often.

"What does that mean?" She looked up at him, smiling, her gaze slowly replinishing his energy. She was good to be around- a battery. Her creativity and eagerness to translate his logical words into colorful thoughts delighted them both to no end. A match made in heaven, and even heaven would not be able to satisfy their thirst to simply talk, create, in their own ways.

"You will know some day." Tech smoothed his gloves fingers along the bridge of her nose. "You're drawing?"

She grinned and nodded, leaning back and pressing a hand over the art. Not too hard, not to smudge it. "How could you guess?"

"Your face." He licked his thumb and drew her close, leaning down and gently brushing away. The graphite greyed and mellowed, rolling out against her skin. She would have to rinse it off.

He could paint her- if he had a brush and a canvas and time alone with her, he could paint all of her. But alas, the galaxy needed him, his brothers.

Her laugh was soft as she beamed brightly at him. His heart pounded- she made him want to not only thing, but create! Try her painting, and try her graphites. Not to simply draw up a plan but to simply do it.

He replaced the want and tried to contain it with another simple kiss on her hairline. "Beloved," He whispered, in both a greeting and parting, before he stepped away from her.

16 (French Kiss) with... *drums roll* *you wonder who I'm gonna ask right?* *no you don't because I'm so predicable*

Fives? 😂

Me: (sees you in my inbox)

Me: FIVES TIME

---

If a kiss were a summer day, it would be this one. The lips were a slow drawl, a sweet word against you. A comment of the sky or how warm and balmy and nice it was. His tongue dragged slowly across your Bonnie lip as you exhaled, a giggle escaping you.

"Fives," You mumbled, gently pushing away. "I have to work."

"My favorite senator, working?" He chuckled and nuzzled your neck as you turned to make caf. "No, mesh'la. The stereotype is that senators don't actually do stuff."

"You're calling me lazy?"

"I'm saying you should be lazy. For me. This once." The words, hot, rolled off your collarbone as he gently kneaded your hips, as if the gentle lapping of his hands could convince you.

You chuckled as his lips pressed to your neck, and his tongue gently probed your skin. "Fives. I have to work." You laughed as he huffed against your neck, irritated that you were selecting work over him.

"But I miss you," He whined.

You laughed and turned to him, leaned up and returning his kiss, remembering the map of his mouth and lips, and he sighed into, against, at you. Fives sunk into you, with all ease, and he wrapped his arms around you and pressed his hands to the counter, entrapping you between his arms.

Beacuse angry kisses sound 🔥

"You nearly died," Crosshair hissed as he surveyed you from across the room.

The medical tools in your hands were polished now as you lowered them into the medical kit. "i can handle myself. Those men needed me."

"The lives of ten thousand men could not make up for yours."

You made a noise, somewhere between a snort and a cynical laugh, and you clasped your bag, turning to him, your stomach churning slowly into an annoyed boil of anger- irritation. "It's my job." You stated, crossing your arm. "I would die for those men-"

"The regs!"

"Just like i would die for you." You choked on your anger, the words attempting to snarl but coming out as a soft emitting of an agitated cat.

The stress of his gaze was heavy, just as mad as you, but he moved to you, even his footfalls echoing with anger. "You will die for no one," He hissed, yanking you into him.

The kiss was hot. Red hot against your mouth. The anger at you, agitation you would even say something like dying was alright- to him, death was nothing, but yours was everything.

You were everything.

You pushed at his chest and he broke away, staring down at you, and the anger quickly melted from him. "You," He repeated but raspier. "Could have died."

Everything.

A seductive kiss you say???

___

You didn't process Hunter was walking towards you until it was too late. He had ripped his helmet from his head, and he was staring at you, eyes written with meaning, lips parted mid-name. Your lips parted in question, and the lightsaber sat loose in your hands.

Here, in your quarters, alone. The doors slid shut behind him as the lightsaber dropped, your thoughts of leaving to train abandoning you as intensity flared up in his eyes and wordlessly, he wrapped an arm around you and tugged you into him, his helmet falling to the ground.

His lips met yours and everything else was lost to you. His soul called out to you as much as yours did for him, and now he was answering. No words, but using his mouth.

He dipped you back barely, a soft hum escaping him as your hands found his cheeks and you held them. Hunter, in his perfection and fullness, dropping your guard and holding you tight. Your heart tightened as he pressed away from you, the absence of his mouth dizzying.

I COULD NOT RESIST

___

Tech huffed as he leaned over the roof of the ship, cursing under his breath. He was thankful his armor had a coolant system within it, because the sun had been beating on his back for the past... several hours? Something pinched his finger, and he snarled, tugging his hand back and yanking off his goggles to examine the wound. The skin was puckered, red. Tech swore again quietly and stood, rubbing his eyes. 

The day had been long and the work had been taxing. His uninjured hand ran in his hair as he stepped backwards, the sweat quickly drying in the sun.

"Tech!"

He perked up. Tech turned and his feelings of antagonization rolled off him- a weight from his shoulders. She was jogging towards him, sketchbook in one hand and cup of caf in the other one. Tech felt his heart soar because nothing heals a broken heart better than caf and his gal.

A grin split his face- she always did that. Maybe it was his imagination, but he could smell the caf as he hurried to the edge of the ship. "Hello, love!" Oh, he was falling in love all over again.

Well. Actually falling.

Tech gave a gasp and yelped, turning midair to try and "tuck and roll", as Hunter called it. Instead, gravity grabbed at his head, yanking at him against his leg, which had tangled in a long hose from the top of the ship. Blood rushed to his ears, whooshing past his brain, and everything was blurry without his goggles.

She was giggling and closer now- he could hear that. Tech blushed, rubbing his face, the curls bouncing softly against gravity. "I.. how's it uh. Hanging?"

She laughed more, and she pressed a hand to his face, still warm from the caf. "Silly Tech," She chuckled, leaning up and pecking him.

She smelled familiar and good- like charcoals and caf, clean. Tech sighed and leaned in more like he normally would, but instead rocked back due to the dangling in the air. "Stupid-" He grumbled, leaning up. He sighed gruffly, irritation eating at him- he couldn't see what or why his leg was wrapped. No glasses.

Tech gave up and flopped back, rubbing his face. "My most beloved one, can you find Wrecker?"

She laughed again and leaned up, kissing his forehead. "Sure thing, love. Just-" Her words broke up by laughter as she walked away. "Hang in there."

He found himself laughing too. She did that- she made him laugh no matter how tired or irritated he was.