♔ Plot: When a stranger saves you from some ruffians, you’re quite curious about him. And as he takes you to safety, soon he will find out that he is quite curious about you, too.
♔ Warnings: Safe for work, Princess reader, hidden identity, strict parents, canon-typical violence, reader is a victim of attempted robbery, moody Crosshair, fluff, light angst, flirting, first kiss.
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"We're not going to ask again. Hand over everything you have."
This was far from how you’d imagined your quiet walk into the city would end. What started as a rare moment of freedom and to take life into your own hands for once, had now spiraled into something dangerous as a Rodian presses a blade to your throat.
You were a Princess or the Princess. People often believed that being royalty meant living without limitations, but that was never the case for you. Your parents, though loving, were strict when it came to your safety. Everything was annoyingly controlled which included your want to go on outings whether to a restaurant, bar, shopping. Literally anything.
So when you asked them about visiting the city, their hesitation was predictable. They insisted on sending a troop of guards with you but that wasn’t the escape you were looking for. With frustration bubbling inside you, you had retorted, perhaps more sharply than intended, “Forget it. It’s not freedom if I can’t breathe without someone hovering.”
Therefore as the morning rolled round the next day, you felt rebellious. You snuck out.
Dressed in a simple cloak with a hood, you thought you’d be able to blend in. No fancy gowns, no glittering jewels to give away your identity. But despite your effort to stay low-key, your behaviour gave you away.
Every market stall just called to you! There were so many incredible things you just wanted to have your hands on and with each purchase you made, you unknowingly broadcasted your wealth in the process. It wasn’t long before some reprobates spotted you.
You'd wandered down a narrow alley when you realised you were suddenly trapped. A human male blocked the exit ahead, while the Rodian held his blade steady behind you.
“I suggest you both move along,” you warned, voice sharper than you felt as you clutch tightly onto your bag of possessions. They inched closer, and your confidence drained from you with each step they took.
"We only want one thing from you," the human growled, eyes on your bag. You found yourself backed against a wall, your breathing turning shallow as panic crept in.
Despite your attempts at bravery, the Rodian growled in frustration, his blade pressing harder to your neck when you didn’t cooperate quickly enough. Just as fear began to overtake you, the unmistakable sound of blaster fire echoed through the alley. In an instant, both of your assailants dropped to the ground with a thud.
You ducked instinctively, arms covering your head, heart pounding in your chest. The sharp metallic smell of blaster fire filled the air, and for a moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to look up, fearing the worst that you’ll be shot next.
“You can get up.”
The voice was smooth, velvety, but there was an edge to it. Tentatively, you raised your head, your gaze finding a tall figure standing over you. A rifle was slung over his shoulder, and a toothpick danced between his lips.
"I—I—" Your legs wobbled as you tried to stand, overwhelmed by what just happened. You stumbled, and before you could fall, a firm hand caught you, surprisingly gentle but firm.
“You’re fine,” he drawled with a roll of his eyes.
Rude much? His nonchalance almost made you scoff, as if you hadn’t just had a blade pressed to your throat moments before.
“Move along,” the man said, nodding toward the exit. You start to move before you almost trip, you glanced down at the two crumpled bodies and gasped, hand flying to your mouth.
He chuckled softly and almost mockingly, nudging one of the unconscious men with his boot. “Relax. They’re not dead. Just stunned.”
You looked up at him, finally taking in his appearance. He had a tattoo over one sharp eye, and features so defined, it was almost intimidating. His eyes, piercing and focused, seemed to size you up with each glance. You had never seen someone so striking, and your awe must have been obvious, because he raised a brow, his gaze hardening.
“You gonna thank me, or are you just going to keep staring?”
Your cheeks burned as you noticed you hadn’t said a word. “Thank you sir,” you muttered, voice weak.
Without a word, he turned and began to walk away, and you watched him go, still too stunned to move. The two men at your feet remained unconscious, and despite his reassurance, fear still kept you rooted in place.
He must have sensed you weren’t following, because after a few steps, he stopped and glanced back over his shoulder with an impatient sigh. “It’s best you move before they wake up,” he said, his tone rough but not unkind.
You sniffled softly, a little overwhelmed. Your legs felt weak, and your mind was swimming with too many thoughts. You weren’t sure what you should do, or if you could even trust this man who had just saved you. But then again, you weren’t sure you had much of a choice.
He turned back toward you, his brow furrowing slightly as he approached again. “Are you going to move, or do I have to carry you?” He said it flatly, like it was the last thing he wanted to do.
“ I can’t,” you whispered, voice shaking. “I don’t know where to go.”
He glanced at the alley's dark corners before focusing back on you. “You need to get out of here,” he muttered. “I can… take you somewhere if you want.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’d rather not but I can’t just leave you here, can I?” He mutters once more.
His bluntness should have been off-putting, but something about him gave you a strange sense of reassurance.
You follow him as he leads you out of the shadows and into the light, winding through narrow alleyways and side streets. He doesn’t look back, moving at a brisk pace. The silence hangs heavy between you, and finally, you work up the nerve to speak.
“Where are we going?” you ask.
“Somewhere safe,” he replies without breaking stride.
You huff in frustration. “And where’s that?”
He stops suddenly, and you nearly bump into his back as he turns to face you. “Does it matter?” he asks, looking you up and down with an eyebrow raised.
You narrow your eyes, folding your arms. “I’d still like to know where a stranger is taking me,” you insist, “and I’d also like to know your name.”
He studies you for a moment, his gaze lingering just a beat too long as though he’s trying to make sense of you. But then he smirks, slipping back into his aloof demeanor. “Would you rather I left you back there?” he asks, moving a step closer.
Your mouth opens to respond, but his smirk deepens, knowing he has the upper hand. “Exactly,” he mutters, pulling a toothpick from his lips and flicking it to the ground. “Come on.”
You roll your eyes but follow, still annoyed that he hadn’t answered your question. A few minutes pass in silence as you trail behind, taking in the sights and sounds around you. However you soon notice you had drifted slightly off track from being distracted when you hear him mumble something under his breath.
“What was that?” you ask, moving to catch up to him. But just as you step forward, he stops abruptly. You stumble into a large puddle, splashing murky water with who-knows-what else on your shoes.
He turns with an unimpressed glance. “I did warn you,” he says, not quite hiding a smirk.
You look down with a grimace at your drenched feet. “These were expensive.”
He sighs, rolling his eyes. “Stop acting like such a Princess.”
There’s a flicker of annoyance in you, but a thought crosses your mind. Testing his reaction, you pull down your hood, meeting his gaze directly, waiting for recognition to flash in his eyes. But his expression remains unimpressed and unchanged, his attitude dismissive, which somehow feels…refreshing. For the first time, someone treated you like just another person.
There’s a split second where his expression softens, but he looks away before you can be sure. “Are we going or not?” he drawls, already turning to lead the way.
You purse your lips, holding back a retort. Still, you step forward out of the puddle and on ahead, pulling your hood back up and moving past him. You half expect him to comment, but he just follows without a word.
Crosshair moves through the crowded streets like he owns them, his steps steady, calm, and without a backward glance. You follow, trying to keep pace, though questions run wild in your mind.
"Are we nearly there?" you ask.
“No.” he replies, his tone curt.
You want to push, but there’s something in his voice, a kind of finality that keeps you quiet. And so you continue in silence. He’s a soldier, no doubt about it. You have met many like him but also many not like him. He holds a mystery that you strangely found alluring.
Eventually, he stops at a small diner, the kind of place you would have walked right past without a glance. It didn’t stand out by all means but perhaps that you needed… “This is the ‘safe’ place?” You ask skeptically but only receive a grumble in response.
He gestures to you inside, giving you enough room to slip in first. At least he had manners somewhere.
Once inside, he leads you to a corner booth and leaves briefly to get drinks. You take in the humble surroundings, feeling out of place. It was definitely different to the grand dining rooms you were used to. But it felt somehow homely.
When he returns, he slides a drink across the table toward you, then settles into the seat across from you.
“So…your name?” you venture, trying to sound casual. You didn’t want to spend another five minutes in complete silence with him.
He watches you for a moment, as if assessing whether you’re worth answering, then says, “Crosshair.”
You repeat the name silently, trying to understand why it suits him so perfectly. He doesn’t ask for your name, but after a small pause, you offer it anyway.
If your name stirs any recognition, he hides it well. In fact, he doesn’t react at all, just takes a sip of his drink, gaze sliding away from you and out to the street.
You’re used to people treating you with deference or admiration, but Crosshair’s attitude was unfiltered. It makes you want to ask more questions, to understand him, even if he doesn’t want you to.
“So, what is it you do?” you ask, hoping he’ll give you something atleast.
“I’m a soldier.” His tone is clipped, disinterested, making it clear he’s not one to chat.
But just then, the door hisses open, and your stomach clenches as two familiar figures stride in: the human and the Rodian from the alley. You feel yourself stiffen, dread rising in your throat as you watch them scan the room, clearly searching for someone.
Crosshair doesn’t notice right away, but your tension must give you away. He sets his drink down and leans forward, his gaze cutting to you with startling intensity. “Eyes on me,” he murmurs, his voice low but steady. “Don’t look at them.”
You try, your heart racing as you focus on him, but fear keeps tugging your gaze back to the pair. It takes all your willpower to keep your eyes on Crosshair, to draw comfort from his unflinching calm.
As the two men approach your booth, Crosshair’s hand slips to his blaster, and before you even realize what’s happening, he’s fired twice, each shot precise and stunning. The men collapse to the floor with a thud, unconscious.
Gasps fill the diner, patrons staring in shock. Crosshair tosses a few credits onto the table, unfazed. He meets your eyes, his gaze steady but with a hint of impatience. “Come on,” he says, his tone firm as he reaches for your hand.
Heart pounding, you cling tightly to Crosshair’s hand, and despite your best effort to steady yourself, you can’t bring yourself to let go. The whole city seems darker, every shadow stretching out like it’s hiding something dangerous. Crosshair glances back at you as he leads you further down an alleyway, his expression unreadable, but he doesn’t let you go.
When out of sight, he finally pauses near a quiet courtyard. “Stay here,” he says firmly. “I need to make sure we’re clear.”
“No,” you say quickly, tightening your grip, the word slipping out before you can stop it. A deep-rooted nervousness tugs at your insides. Your parents always warned you that the town wasn’t a safe place a lot of the time but you’d shrugged it off carelessly, eager for a moment of freedom.
Crosshair raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised by your reaction, and glances down at your hand wrapped tightly around his. There’s a flicker in his gaze, a hint of something almost soft, like he’s unaccustomed to the gesture, to anyone holding onto him this way. But then he meets your gaze and, with an edge of gentleness, says, “I’ll come back. You’ll be safe. Just give me a minute.”
The promise in his voice is enough for you to finally nod, though reluctantly. He slips his hand from yours, and you’re struck by how cold your palm feels without his. Your anxiety twists as you watch him disappear around a corner, leaving you alone with only a handful of curious strangers occasionally passing by, throwing you odd glances.
Minutes drag on, feeling like an eternity, and with each passing one, doubt starts to creep in. Maybe this had all been a mistake—sneaking out, wandering alone, putting yourself in harm's way.
But just as panic starts to tighten your chest, you hear footsteps returning. Relief passes through you as Crosshair reappears, his gaze flicking over you to check if you’re unharmed. He gives a single, satisfied nod and moves to stand closer. The smallest smirk tugs at his mouth as if he finds your relief mildly amusing.
“Didn’t think I’d leave you, did you?” he asks, his tone as unreadable as ever, but his presence alone feels like a reassurance you didn’t expect to need.
You let out a soft laugh, though the relief is unmistakable. “Honestly? I wasn’t too sure.”
Crosshair smirks, a low hum escaping him. His gaze drops to the bag you’re clutching. “You must have something valuable in there, considering the fuss you’ve caused.”
You shift your hold on it instinctively. The last thing you want is for him to realise exactly who you are, although, somehow, you sense he’s not the type to treat you differently even if he knew. “It’s nothing.”
Crosshair lets it slide, simply shrugging before jerking his head forward. “Come on, let’s keep moving.”
“Where exactly are we going?” you ask for what feels like the hundredth time, trying to keep up with his long strides.
He lets out a sigh, finally giving in. “My ship. That safe enough for you, Princess?”
You squirm slightly at the title, but he doesn’t seem to mean it in the literal sense. “Your ship?”
“Yeah. I’m not from around here.” He pauses, then adds, “I’m a clone. Part of an elite squad.” He says, almost smug. “Though I don’t expect you have heard of us.”
“I know of clones,” you say, “but I haven’t met anyone like you.”
He chuckles, the sound low but enough to make you smile. “No one’s like me.” His tone has a hint of pride. He keeps his responses short, but as you keep asking questions, he doesn’t seem to mind too much.
As you both turn a corner, however, your heart freezes. You spot a pair of royal guards, your royal guards. One of them holding a holographic puck with your face displayed.
They’re moving down the street, stopping people andquestioning them with urgency. It’s obvious: your parents have realised you’re gone, and the city is on alert.
Your pulse races, and you quickly lean against a nearby stall, pretending to inspect some wares with your back to the guards. Crosshair glances at you with a raised eyebrow, his gaze clearly questioning your sudden interest in a basket of random trinkets.
But it’s no use. As the guards come closer, one of them notices Crosshair and pauses, squinting at him with suspicion.
“Excuse me, sir,” the guard says, lifting the puck. “Have you seen this young woman? We’re searching for her. She’s… important.”
Your breath catches, and you hold it, refusing to look up, though you can feel the weight of Crosshair’s gaze as he slowly turns his head to you. The silence stretches uncomfortably as he studies you, the guard, then the puck, and at last, shrugs.
“No,” he says with a drawl, barely concealing his irritation. “Haven’t seen her.”
When the guard finally moves on, Crosshair growls and leans down, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Can I have a word?”
Before you can protest, his hand wraps firmly around your wrist, pulling you away from prying eyes. When he eventually stops, he releases you, turning with that intense glare you’ve come to recognise. Yeah, he looked pissed.
You pull down your hood, trying to ease the tension with a nervous laugh. “So… maybe I haven’t been completely honest.”
“You got that right, Princess.”
Okay, he was pissed. An eye twitched in annoyance, his smirk wiped off his face and set with an irritated tight line. There’s no avoiding it now. You take a deep breath and begin to explain. “I… well, I was bored. And I wanted to see the city without an entourage, just for a few hours. Maybe I kinda overdid it with my spending.”
“And caught the wrong attention.” He grunts with a deep frown. “You could’ve put me in danger. If your guards thought I was holding you against your will, I’d be the one shot first, no questions asked.”
You roll your eyes, crossing your arms defensively. “I would have told them the truth, obviously. I’m not reckless.”
His eyes narrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because you’ve been so honest up to now?”
You’re about to retort, but you stop yourself. Instead, you let out a sigh, reaching out to place a hand over his. It catches him off guard, and his gaze shifts to your hand, fingers wrapped around his. He’s silent, visibly shy all of a sudden.
“Look,” you say softly, eyes meeting his. “I know I messed up, and I’m sorry. I’ll pay you for your trouble if you’ll just help me get back to the palace without… you know, running into more guards.”
Crosshair’s expression shifts slightly, the hardness in his eyes softening just a little. His gaze lingers on your hand in his, a warmth rising to his cheeks, though he quickly looks away as if he hadn’t noticed it at all.
“Fine,” he mutters, clearing his throat and pulling his hand back. “But if this goes sideways, Princess, I’m gone.”
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The pair of you weave through the streets, keeping close, but there was a heavy fog and not just from the town, but from the awkwardness that lingered over you both. You felt bad, truly.
Eventually, you can’t take his brooding gaze any longer. “Are you still mad at me?”
He gives you a sidelong glance, his eyes cold. “Does it matter? Not like my opinion means much to a princess.”
You pause, a bit taken aback by his bluntness, but gather yourself quickly. “Actually… it does.” You hesitate, searching for the right words. “I… I like you.”
His gaze sharpens, a mixture of confusion and surprise on his face. “Like me?”
Realising how that might have sounded, your cheeks flare with heat. “Not like that. Just, you know… You don’t treat me like everyone else does.”
“Maybe because I didn’t know who you were,” he mutters. “And maybe because you lied about it.”
You groan, rolling your eyes. “Fine, I get it, I messed up. But I wasn’t trying to lie to you, I just…”
He cuts you off with a hand suddenly against your waist, pressing you firmly against the wall. You open your mouth to protest, and raise your hand to slap at him as your instincts kicking in, but before you can react, he catches your hand in his. He tilts his head to the side, nodding toward a nearby street, and that’s when you see them—your guards, moving in tight formation, scanning.
Your heart skips a beat as you quickly look away, trying to calm yourself. But you’re acutely aware of Crosshair’s closeness, of his hand on your waist, of the heat radiating from him as he keeps his body protectively shielding yours. His eyes stay on you, never once looking to the guards.
A tingling rush spreads through you as his gaze holds steady, unwavering. You swallow, feeling an odd thrill you hadn’t expected, and his breath brushes softly against your skin.
After a long, tense moment, Crosshair’s voice breaks the silence. “The coast is clear,” he says, his voice lower than usual, almost a whisper.
His hand slips away from your waist, and you feel an unsettling sense of cold where his warmth had just been. You swallow, finding your footing as he steps back, but the rapid beat of your pulse doesn’t quite settle as quickly.
“Thank you,” you murmur, glancing up at him. He rolls his eyes with a dry huff, crossing his arms.
“How many times do I have to save you today?” he mutters, but there’s a faint hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
You smirk back, tilting your head slightly. “Not sure. But I know you’ll protect me.”
The playful lilt in your voice makes his smile flicker just a bit wider. He clears his throat, trying to hide it, and nods forward. “Let’s get on with it, then.”
As you near the palace walls, you look around for a discreet path. “We should enter from the back. Fewer guards that way.”
He raises a brow. “Want me to stun them?”
“No!” you whisper urgently, shooting him a frown. “If they wake up, it’ll just cause more trouble. I’d rather avoid that.”
“Then there’s only one option left.” Crosshair turns and motions toward the stone wall. You swallow hard as you take in the towering height. “We’ll have to climb.”
Your eyes widen. “I definitely can’t climb that.”
He shrugs, stepping closer with a hand poised at your waist. “I’ll help you up.” There’s a certain gleam in his eye as he waits, and you suddenly wonder if he’s enjoying this just a bit.
“Admit it,” you say, a teasing edge in your voice. “You just like holding me.”
His jaw clenches slightly, and he grunts something under his breath. “Just climb.”
With a roll of your eyes, you place your hands against the rough wall, finding your footing. Crosshair’s hands are steady on your waist, giving you a firm lift, and you can’t ignore the way his touch lingers just slightly longer than necessary. As you start to scale the wall, he keeps his hands stretched beneath you in case you slip. Not like your day could get any worse, really.
You finally pull yourself to the other side, heart racing more from his touch than from the climb. Before you can even catch your breath, Crosshair’s on the wall, moving with an agile grace that’s almost mesmerising. He lands next to you with ease, dusting himself off like he hadn’t just climbed an impossible height in seconds.
“You make it look easy,” you breathe, feeling a little flustered despite yourself.
He smirks, giving a lazy shrug. “I’m just skilled.”
“Modest, too,” you quip, though a small part of you admires him even more.
He glances over at you. “Let’s get you back before you cause any more trouble.”
You take the lead, guiding Crosshair toward the palace’s quiet, less-patrolled back entrance. But before you reach it, a loud, familiar voice calls out, startling you. Your father strides toward you, his expression torn between fury and relief, surrounded by several guards.
Crosshair’s stance shifts, his body tensing as he prepares to defend himself. But you quickly step in front of him, intercepting the barrage of questions from your father.
"Who is this man? Where were you? Are you safe? What happened?"
“Father, please,” you say, holding up your hand to calm him. “I know you’re angry—I shouldn’t have left on my own, but… Crosshair saved me. Twice.”
Crosshair, his voice dry and edged with sarcasm, mutters, “Yeah. Twice.”
Your father’s gaze hardens, a mix of protectiveness and suspicion in his eyes. “You saved her? Then I suppose you want a reward?”
Crosshair’s expression remains stoic, though his eyes meet yours for a brief moment. For a heartbeat, something softer flashes across his face, but he shakes his head. “No, keep it,” he says simply, giving your father a curt nod. Then he turns to go, his smirk fading as he heads off down the dim alley.
You watch him walk away, feeling a pang of something you don’t fully understand. You stand there, rooted to the spot, your heart pounding as his figure fades into the shadows. Without thinking, you slip away from your father’s side and break into a run, calling Crosshair’s name before he’s fully out of sight.
“Is that it? No goodbye?” You, breathless once you caught up to him.
He stops, looking back at you with a raised brow and a smirk that borders on cocky. “Surprised you’ll miss me, Princess.”
You fold your arms, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself gushing at the thought of missing him. “Maybe. Will I see you again?”
He shrugs. “Doubt it. But… for you, I might reconsider if you do something naughty again.”
His words makes the blush you were forming deepen, and you sputter, “I’m not a—”
He chuckles, interrupting you smoothly. “Oh, I think you’re a little troublemaker.” He watches you for a second longer, stepping closer. He goes to leave for the final time but you don’t let him.
“Wait,” you say softly, stepping closer. “Thank you… for everything.”
Before he can respond, you reach for his hand and pull yourself near. His smirk fades into something softer, a flicker of surprise in his gaze as you quietly bring your other hand to his face, thumb tracing the edge of his tattoo. Then, with a deep breath, you lean in and press your lips softly to his.
He stiffens at first, as if processing what’s happening. But then, he relaxes, his lips moving gently against yours, his hand resting on your waist as he holds you close. When you finally pull back, he looks at you with an expression that’s completely flustered. That cocky, sharp expression vanished into the air.
A smirk plays at your lips as you ask, “What? Never kissed a princess before?”
He clears his throat, trying to regain his composure, though you can still see a hint of surprise in his eyes. “No,” he murmurs, the words a little slower than usual. Then, with a faint, almost bashful smirk, he adds, “But I could get used to it.”
Your smirk deepens, heart fluttering as you step back. “Well, maybe I should cause more trouble then… if it means I’ll get to see you again.”
He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Careful, Princess. I’m not sure you could handle the consequences.”
“Try me,” you reply, holding his gaze a moment longer. Then, before you can second-guess yourself, you turn and make your way back toward the palace, a lightness in your step and his kiss lingering on your lips.
As you glance back one last time, he’s still watching, arms crossed, that familiar smirk lingering. But there’s something else there now, something that makes you certain this won’t be the last time you find yourself in trouble.
Especially if it leads back to him.
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HAHA i’ve been very invested in a clone AU for my TF OC Nightraid lately! he’s the commander of a legion called the 82nd, who are, in a nutshell, space ghostbusters, the high school emo/punk table, the absol of the star wars universe, however you wanna put it LMAO. peep his in depth lore on his carrd (041s.carrd)
After playing on Amelia Ragefire a bit today, my daughter had this to say: "It was cool to get 6 levels in 13 or 14 minutes!" And she is right. Bless you, double XP event.
The highlight of the day was was watching her pet stand on a corpse "like the littlest bounty hunter! A teeny tiny bounty hunter!"
During most of the battles, my daughter sang a song she made up about mowing the lawn.
Amelia Ragefire is light sided...so far.
My daughter was delighted to see the flirt option. A great deal of giggling was involved.
My daughter was also delighted for Amelia to get her taun taun! This one, she specified, was not going to be named Taun Taunington. It would be named after my husband... "so that when we talk about him Daddy will not know who we're talking about!" Very sneaky.
She is now absorbed with writing a book about Amelia's adventures... my little fanfic author! 🥰
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