Great Story

Quite moments

A Quiet Grove (Quality Time)

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Author's note: This takes place after the end of Quiet Corners of the Galaxy, so it has some minor spoilers. Some mild suggestiveness, but otherwise this is the softest that Dara and Crosshair have ever been with each other.

Summary: Crosshair and Dara spend a quiet afternoon together.

On Pabu, there is an isolated grove overlooking the sea, where the only sounds are the chittering of moon-yos and the quiet rush of the waves. The grove sits beside a sheer cliff, the drop below a dizzying height that not even the most daring islander will try diving from. When Crosshair first returned to his brothers and joined them in their tropical paradise, he used to hide there for hours just to be alone with his thoughts. He’d spend whole afternoons looking out over the ocean, counting his regrets. 

Crosshair feels far away from those moments of self-disgusted contemplation now. The grove is peaceful, and he’s been in and out of a doze all afternoon. He can feel the sun on his face and fingers gently stroking through his hair, his head comfortably resting in a soft, warm lap. 

“I know you’re awake again,” Dara murmurs. 

“You stopped,” he complains, voice still hoarse with sleep. The last he remembers, Dara had been playing for him on her wooden flute, a low, mournful tune that was one of his favorites. 

Dara chuckles. “That was twenty minutes ago. I stopped because you were snoring,” she teases playfully. 

She carefully extricates her hands from his curls and settles more comfortably against the tree trunk at her back, but makes no attempt to move him off her lap. Still, he cracks his tattooed eye open to scowl up at her. 

“Quit pouting,” she chides. Her fingers are now preoccupied with a few lengths of teal and yellow leather cord that she’s weaving into a band of repetitive knots and patterns. 

Crosshair’s scowl deepens at that, and he huffs. “I know you’re due back in a few days, but you couldn’t possibly have intel to record right now.” 

Dara rolls her eyes, a smile teasing at her lips as she gazes down at him. “This is an art form, Crosshair. I don’t just use it for spying, believe it or not.” 

He raises an eyebrow at her skeptically. “I thought the knots were a message.” 

“Nothing gets past you.” Dara pauses in her work to stroke back through his hair, then along the gnarled scar at the side of his head, down his jawline and arm, finally intertwining her fingers with his, leaving him practically purring. Then she holds out the leather band in front of him, moving their hands to trace his thumb along the knots. 

“What’s it say?” Crosshair asks, closing his eyes again, as though it would help him to read the message beneath his fingertips. 

She bends over to plant a soft kiss at his temple before returning to her work. “Omega’s name. It’s a bracelet for her.” 

Crosshair chuckles. “You’re asking for trouble. Now the kid will want to learn how to read your secret code.” He settles more comfortably into Dara’s lap. He supposes that he can accept making a gift for his sister as a good enough reason to lose out on Dara’s music and soft pets for the afternoon.

He’ll just have to find other ways to feed his more hedonistic impulses later. 

With that pleasurable thought, it takes him no time at all to drift into a contented doze again. 

The sun is beginning to set the next time that Crosshair wakes. He stretches his arms overhead and blinks his eyes open to find Dara looking down at him fondly. 

The gentle feeling that gaze stirs in him is almost unbearable, so he tugs her down into a hard kiss and swallows her surprised squeak instead. He keeps the kiss relatively chaste—for him, at least—cupping Dara’s cheek as he pulls apart, but he knows her, and her expression is already hungry for more. 

“Time for late meal?” he queries innocently. 

“Something like that,” Dara snarks back with an appreciative glance over his sprawled, languid form. 

Grinning, Crosshair gets to his feet, holding a hand out to help her up, only to furrow his brow down at the unfamiliar object on his wrist—a woven black band decorated with tiny white versions of his namesake. He traces his fingers over it reverently. When Dara puts her hand in his, he pulls her up and right into his arms.

“Didn’t want you to get jealous of the kid,” she murmurs into his chest. “Or forget about me, when I’m away.”

The moon-yos, invisible among the trees, chatter quietly. The waves below crash against the cliff edge. Crosshair holds Dara tightly for a moment longer, just breathing in the scent of her hair. 

“Never, burk’yc,” he whispers back. 

Tag list: @stardusthuntress @skellymom @megmegalodondon @somewhere-on-kamino @morerandombullshit @zahmaddog @flaming-dumpster @clonexocweek

Protective and loving Crosshair for Omega

Love it

Good start to a story

Clone x OC Week Day 1 : Introduction

Pairings: Solé x Crosshair Rating: G / SFW Words: 1,092 Warnings: Order 66 Mention, brief mentions of grief, absolute second hand embarrassment (please my girl is a disaster I love her)

Synopsis: Solé is doing her best to adjust to life on Pabu, but after her life was turned upside down by Order 66, all she finds herself wanting is to go home to Naboo. Until she meets someone who might be even more out of place than she is.

@clonexocweek Thank you for hosting this event!

Pabu was few little pieces of the familiar wrapped up in a galaxy of unknowns. She had tried to adapt. Adaption was key. With enough work to keep her busy and on the verge of exhaustion she had found a way to accept the life happening around her. For better or worse. But she couldn’t shake the sense that it still wasn’t home. It wasn’t Naboo.

With foods she understood and soil that didn’t fight her every time she tried to grow a plant. Every simple thing she had taken for granted, every smell and sound and taste, was left behind on a world she didn’t recognize while she tried to pick up the pieces of her life. Solé shook the thoughts away as she strode into the marketplace. No, here is where I am. And that’s all there was too it. The marketplace was just as unfamiliar as the rest of Pabu, a breath of Naboo whispered by in the sunshine that fell along the stalls but the wares in them, the foods and trinkets, all refugees of another world left her feeling hollow. Her appetite had been growing thinner by the day and as someone who studied nutrition and food for a living she knew she would have to put her anxieties away and at least try to eat something.

She had been on Pabu for a few weeks, thrown by earthquakes, threatened by the Empire she was trying to escape, and finally a relative peace had settled. Solé wished her shaking hands and anxious heart would see it the same way. There were more refugees now. Like her, but not like her. Clones who had been betrayed by their leaders. By their own bodies. Shep had explained it all to her when she wasn’t able to face them, clued her into the truth of what had happened when he had brought some of them to her as patients.

Soldiers, battle weary and heavy, they seemed to adapt faster than her to the light buoyant atmosphere of the island or they would shuttle off to help the cause. The cause was something so vast that Solé had trouble really imagining it. A part of her ached for it. Ached for answers to what had happened. Esteemed senator dead, chancellor so different than he appeared, and the Jedi…her heart clenched and she thought of the brother she had known as a child. Such a bright eyed boy. The galaxy was a vacuum now sucking away anything familiar and leaving her…here.

It was silly really, but Solé could almost feel it was the Force that made her look up towards that one particular stall. A slender man was standing very still in front of the stall that was selling some sort of fruit that looked deceptively familiar to her homesick heart. The man was standing with stiff shoulders, scarring on one side of his head, and though he wasn’t as sturdily built as the others she could guess right away from his military bearing that he was a clone. He was looking between the fruits, a scowl deepening the lines around his mouth and brows knit together. He picked one up with his left hand, examined it, put it back.

He looked as out of his depth as she felt on that particular afternoon. “Do you need a hand?” Solé approached on instinct, it wasn’t her way not to help someone especially if it had anything to do with food. He didn’t respond at first until Solé sidled up next to him, repeating her question.

The man turned to face her fully and a fierce blush colored her fair skin.

Hand.

He only had one. Her earlier words ricocheted around in her head like a stampeding Shaak. One eyebrow raised and his brown eyes were full of caution, if not down right irritation. Solé did what she always did during confrontation or embarrassment. She made it worse.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean a hand in that sense—I meant do you need any help? Not that I don’t believe that you’re capable of helping yourself because of your disability—“ She was willing herself to just stop talking, she really was. Whatever other gibberish passed out of her mouth was put to a mercifully abrupt stop.

“Crosshair! Did you get everything?” A young blonde girl, bounded up to him and when his attention turned Solé took it as the opportunity that it was.

She wouldn’t necessarily say she ran from the situation, but she was at her little base — she couldn’t call it home — with her back firmly pressed against the closed front door, cheeks still burning from embarrassment before the pair had been able to turn back to her. Angry tears stung the corner of her eyes and she rested her closed fist against her forehead before running the thin braid she kept in her hair between her fingers. She tried to summon up some Jedi saying, something her mother had always whispered to her in times of distress to remind her of her brother, and came up short. All she could do was resign herself to a dinner of leftovers from the conservator and try to forget today had ever happened.

By the time Solé woke up the next morning the sting of embarrassment had lessened, at least partially. She had repeated the scene in her mind enough times, assured herself that it was a perfectly understandable accident and vowed never to make eye contact with that man again. Everything was fine.

After brewing a pot of caf, pouring the hot water from her kettle slowly over the ground beans and admiring the rich scent that reminded her of a thousand late nights and early mornings, she went outside. The sun was bright and she vaguely wondered if she had overslept again when her foot hit something on her tiny garden path.

A bag.

A bag full to the brim of yellow fruits with dimpled skin. Solé stooped and spied a note tucked into one side. She drew out the piece of flimsi and unfolded it as best she could with one hand as she took a sip of the still too hot caf.

‘Looks like you were the one who needed a hand. Ironic.’ Solé’s face burned even redder than it had the day before, but this time there was a smile too.

Author's Note: I'm so excited to be posting things for Solé finally! I've been developing her as a character since November and getting to share her is so exciting! Hope you enjoyed reading their first meeting <3

Love this story

Sharp Edges, Part 2 - Blind Date Gone Right

I couldn't resist picking up at the end of this blind date fic, because the Crosshair energy was just *chef's kiss*. This is smutty smut smut, with a bit of plot, and hopefully will be very satisfying. ;) Thanks to @lightwise for brainstorming a bit, and stay tuned for more parts, because there's definitely more to be written here. Also, this dives RIGHT in, so it's best to read that fic first, otherwise this is quite an abrupt start. ;)

Crosshair x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.7k Content Warnings: I never know how to do these... groping, kissing, teasing, grinding, unprotected P in V. Dividers by @samspenandsword and @djarrex

Chapter 2: Blind Date Gone Right

Things were getting hot and heavy VERY quickly, so much so that you found yourself a little self-conscious out in public. You pulled Crosshair around the corner, tucking into a crevasse between two buildings and tugging him back against you. He was a formidable force, a burning passion with a knife’s edge, and you were lost in him. He reached under your shirt, and you sucked in a sharp breath, pressing your forehead to his as his hand teased along the underwire of your bra. He breathed a single chuckle, dropping his lips to yours yet again as his hand grew firmer, pushing up the bra cup and cupping the breast underneath. He gave it just enough of a squeeze that it would have hurt if he’d gone any further, but as it was, it was driving you mad. It conveyed possession and power, and you were in just the mood for the energy he was bringing. As his thumb brushed across your nipple, timed perfectly with the gentle tug on your lip from his soft mouth, you made up your mind. 

“Listen,” you gasped, pushing on his hand with your own, through your shirt, to stop his movement for a second, “You’re not gonna have me in some random alleyway.” 

Crosshair exhaled through his nose in what probably passed as a laugh for him, standing up and reclaiming his hand. “Fair enough. But I’m gonna have you?” he provoked, tilting his head slightly so your mouths were inches apart. The heat and desire radiating off of him was palpable, and you began to rethink your declaration to move this elsewhere, but shook the thought away. 

“My place isn’t far…” you murmured against his lips, feeling slightly vulnerable at the invitation when all the interaction so far had been swapping little barbs. His response was to run a hand down your side and under your thigh, gripping it and lifting it to his hip, leaning into you again. Stars, you were in trouble. He kissed you again, lingering this time, and you could feel his hard length pressing into you through your clothes. 

“Lead the way,” he said, releasing you so suddenly that you thought you’d fall, except he was so close, one arm wrapping around your waist as you headed for your apartment. 

The door opened to your place, dark and quiet, with an expansive view of the city from the floor-to-ceiling windows across your living room. It was plain, minimally decorated, and highly focused on functionality, although there were little trinkets that showed your personality peppered throughout. They were usually missed by the casual observer, however, and you liked it that way. You dropped your keys into the box by the door, kicking off your shoes, and walked in a few steps. Crosshair followed, scanning the room quickly before closing the door behind him, and you turned to face him, trying to decide how this would go. 

Should you jump him right there? Should you take a shower first? Have some conversation? Offer him a drink? The change in scenery had put a slight damper on the heat of the moment, and you felt thrown off balance. Crosshair, however, seemed as unruffled as ever, slowly lowering his coat down his arms and laying it over the back of a nearby chair. When he came back toward you, the slight lowering of his chin and the smoldering intensity in his eyes sent a burst of heat straight between your legs, and you felt adrift no longer. 

In two short steps, he was upon you, lifting you onto the kitchen counter and pressing himself against you again. You wrapped your legs around his waist, yearning for every inch of your bodies to be touching, and dug your fingers into his hair as you kissed him again. His nose smashed against your cheek as his hands slid under your shirt, pulling it upward. You lifted your arms above your head, hair scattering over your shoulders as it came free of the clothing, and Crosshair tossed it to the side, tracing his fingers across the curving tops of your breasts. His rhythm was tantalizing… hot, heavy, and passionate, then pulled back, teasing, enticing… 

He lowered his head to your neck, kissing and sucking now, which made you flinch and giggle involuntarily as his lips closed around a ticklish spot. It was starkly out of character for you so far, and he pulled back in surprise, meeting your eyes. The soft expression of bemusement on his face was unfathomably tender, warming you to the core and fanning the flame of your desire even more. You kissed his mouth, his cheek, his jawbone, his ear, and a quiet, guttural moan escaped him as you clenched your fists around his silvery locks. Now it was his turn to undress as you tugged on his gray sweater, messily pulling it over his head, feeling your heart thrill at the sight of his perfectly-smoothed hair re-emerging as a tousled mess. His undershirt was tucked into his pants, secured with a classy, simple belt, and you bit your lip impatiently, fumbling with the buckle at his waist. 

“Well aren’t you in a hurry…” he said finally, voice hoarse with arousal. You stopped, meeting his gaze evenly, even now captivated by the ridiculously sexy curve of his intense eyes. 

“What, do you want to sit and talk about feelings first?” you countered, and he smiled, more of a genuine smile than you’d seen all night, then leaned forward to graze his fingers along the edges of your bra cups again, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“I just didn’t think the kitchen was much of an upgrade from the alley.”

“Fair enough,” you said, pushing him back as you slid off the counter. You hooked a few fingers around his belt and pulled him behind you to the couch. It was your prized possession -- deep, comfortable, and spacious -- and also provided the perfect excuse to avoid bringing anyone into your own bed. You didn’t like bringing people into your bedroom; it felt like a safe place just for you. Perhaps it was one of your “weird” vulnerability things, but no one ever stuck around long enough to know that. Standing next to the couch, you tugged at his belt again, watching with lusty eyes as he smirked while he unbuckled it. His pants slid to the floor, and he kicked them off with his shoes, leaving him in a plain undershirt and boxer briefs that clung to his figure. And boy, did he have a nice figure. The coat had covered it before, but his slender thighs were more defined than you’d have guessed, and his ass was actually surprisingly grabbable, which you wasted no time in testing out. 

Reaching your arms around him and giving his butt a squeeze, he squinted at you in a judgmental way that was void of any real malice. “Enjoying yourself?” he whispered against your ear, sliding his hands to your waist, where he nimbly unbuttoned and unzipped your pants far too quickly and pushed them down your legs.

“I am, thank you,” you countered, pushing him backward to a seated position on the couch. He sprawled out cooly, knees spread, arms resting across the backrest. It was the kind of body language that was just begging you to do things to him yet appearing as though he didn’t care one way or the other. It was intoxicating and infuriating at the same time. Right up your alley. You knelt on the couch, throwing the other knee across him, and settled yourself into his lap, feeling his hardness beneath, separated only by two thin pieces of fabric. He lifted his chin toward you, still not moving his arms, thin lips pressed together below pale brown eyes that drew you in. You shifted your hips a little, resting your hands on his shoulders, intentionally grinding against him gently as you leaned forward to take his earlobe in your teeth.

A barely-concealed shudder from him felt disproportionately rewarding to you, and he moved into action. He reached one strong arm around, pulling you close in a way that made you arch your back, breasts pressing against his face. The other hand snaked up your spine, pinching the bra hooks together so accurately that they sprang apart as soon as his fingers released them. He moved his hands to your shoulders, pulling one strap down your arm and off the end of your hand, then the other, each movement a drawn-out, languorous tease. 

You sat back, looking down at him with a confidence that you’d put on for so long you didn’t know it was feigned, straddling his lap, bare before him. His eyes met yours as one hand traced feather-light circles around a nipple, which sprang to attention immediately under his tantalizing touch. Your eyes fluttered shut as he lowered his mouth, brushing his lips along your collarbone, then down your chest, exhaling gently to send a chilling sensation across your skin. He reached the opposite breast, breathing on the nipple for a second before placing his lips around it. A tiny moan escaped you, without your permission, as he gave it a light suckle, raking his teeth across it as he pulled away. It made you clench and ache between your legs. He wasn’t supposed to be slow, or gentle. You’d assumed he’d rail you against the kitchen counter and be on his way. But this… this was something else.

He leaned back, observing your face and relishing the nearly-desperate look of desire across it. One hand still traced along the underside of a breast, tickling the soft curve. It was intimate… almost too intimate, you realized, and you stood up suddenly, panties soaked. 

“Panties off, soldier,” you commanded. It had sounded sexy and playful in your head, but came out incredibly flat, and Crosshair gave you an odd look. You cringed and shrugged, hoping you hadn’t ruined the entire moment, and he slowly pushed his boxer briefs down, never taking his eyes from yours.

“Maybe it’s better if you don’t talk,” he jabbed, and you raised your eyebrows in slight shock amid taking off your own underwear. His expression was void of malice once again, however, and his shameless snark had you wanting him even more, letting out a snort as you returned to his lap. His length was pressed up between the two of you, deliciously rubbing against your clit, and you rocked your hips against him, feeling the desire build. He dug his fingers into your hair, pulling it gently and sending sparks down your spine as he tilted your head back, breathing heavily amid kisses on your neck, your shoulder, your chest… The friction was almost enough to send you over the edge by itself, and when he grabbed one breast and sucked on the other with more force than he’d yet used, you gasped, grinding against him almost desperately. 

But it wasn’t to end that way. Suddenly wrapping his arms around you, he turned and dropped you onto the couch on your back, falling on top of you messily. He was heating up too, and a light sheen of sweat was coating his back as you raked your fingertips across it. Propping himself up with one arm on either side of your head, he lined himself up with your entrance, pressing gently against it but not diving in. You were dripping wet, aching for him to fill you up and give it to you good, and you bit your lip with a breathless whine at his teasing. He leaned forward, slowly pushing his cock up along your folds, across your clit, and back down, breathing heavily with the self-control and focus it required. You felt the tension building, as though both of you were about to come undone on one another, and you were growing more and more impatient. 

You lowered your hands to his butt, digging your fingers into his cheeks and pulling him toward you, arching your back. He licked a nipple again, gently pinching the other one, then trailed kisses up your neck and across your mouth, still pressing against you. 

“Crosshair,” you breathed, with such raw vulnerability that he felt something snap inside him, and he sat up straight, looking down at you in all your glory. You didn’t know what to say, but didn’t have to find the words, as he angled himself toward your entrance and slowly slid inside, slick with arousal. You gasped at the sensation; the friction on your walls was incredible, and when he bottomed out, pressing his hips against yours, he finally let out an agonized groan that nearly sent you over the edge. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, and you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him in, coaxing him to continue. 

When he opened them again, he had a chilling intensity on his face, dark eyes glimmering in the reflections of the city skyline, and he pulled back slowly before thrusting into you with more force. You gripped the cushions next to you, turning to press your face into one to muffle the string of expletives that burst out of your mouth. He grabbed your hips, looking down at where his cock disappeared into you, sliding in and out with increasing speed. The sight was almost too much, and he leaned forward, wrapping one arm under your neck and lifting your head to bury in his neck and shoulder. Your hands roved across his back, fingers digging in, scratching, pulling, inviting more of the fierce intensity he was letting out. The sound of your sweaty bodies coming together again and again, punctuated with heavy pants and moans and whispers, was growing louder, and you reached between your legs to circle your clit, feeling close to your peak. He tilted himself upward again, changing the angle, and thrust into a spot that had you seeing stars, replacing your hand with his thumb, rubbing the spot with increasing pressure. 

“Holy kriff, Crosshair,” you whimpered, gasping for breath as your eyes clenched shut. Your unhinged neediness was intoxicating, and he growled in response, muttering expletives and encouragement of his own under his breath. The tightness was building inside, absolutely dizzying in the mind-blowing sensations of what he was doing. Two more thrusts and you felt your climax release with explosive energy, cascading waves of pleasure shuddering throughout your body. You cried out, gripping his arm beside your head and the couch cushion next to you with white-knuckled desperation. His gaze raked across your body, writhing beneath him, breasts bouncing across your chest as he drove himself in and out. When his eyes reached your face, tightly clenched in pure ecstasy, it sent him over the edge, and he gripped you tightly, chasing his own release as you moaned in delight beneath him. He gasped as he came, electrified by the combination of your feral energy and your body clenching around him, and as his thrusts slowed, his mind remained abuzz with carnal pleasure. 

He slowed to a stop, lowering himself on top of you, and you wrapped your arms around him, relishing the complete oneness as he remained inside of you. It was nothing like what you’d expected, incomprehensibly intimate and connective despite the snarky fronts you’d both put up. You caressed the back of his head as it rested on your chest, tucked between your breasts, feeling the tickle of his release sneaking out between your legs. After a moment, he shifted, pulling out deliciously slowly and tucking himself between you and the couch back, pulling you against him without a word. A million questions were racing through your brain, but were also muffled, taking a backseat to the afterglow as he laid an arm around your waist, snaking it up between your breasts and taking one of your hands in his. 

The morning sun was streaming through the windows, causing Crosshair to squint the moment he woke up, sprawled across the couch in the living room. At some point, you’d pulled a light throw blanket over the two of you, and it was still tangled between his legs as he sat up, looking around with an expression of disdain and confusion on his face. He hadn’t meant to stay -- he never did -- but something about the way you’d drawn him in and left him feeling so… comfortable… had kept him from leaving. As he looked and listened for you, though, he saw the note taped to the shelf across from him. 

Off to work! That view doesn’t come cheap, you know? Anyway, I guess blind dates aren’t so bad after all. Thanks for… everything. 

It had your comm number beneath it, and he finished reading with raised eyebrows. No fawning morning full of questions about where you stood? Or thinly-veiled poking about when you’d meet again? He looked out the windows, taking in the city skyline that seemed to extend forever, and slowly got up. The details of your home weren’t lost on him, as his eagle eyes took it all in. Perhaps he would take his time getting out of there.

Read the next installment here.

Crosshair and Omega hug

Hugs! -- Crosshair isn't sure how to proceed - I imagine he'd just freeze

Spicy clones

Sharp Edges - Crosshair x Reader [NSFW]

Collaborative work with @lightwise... What started off as self-indulgent Crosshair smut has evolved into a fully-developed fic, with plot, character development, twists and turns, angst, yearning, and plenty of delicious *spice*. ;)

Blind Date Gone Wrong

Blind Date Gone Right

The Roof

The Nightmare

Spice and Advice

The Tattoo

Work Party, Part 1

Work Party, Part 2

Carnival Games, Part 1

Carnival Games, Part 2

Showers and Plants

The Rescue

Shots Fired, Part 1

Shots Fired, Part 2

Introductions

Clarifications

Shattered

Kintsugi

Conspiracy

Coat Dinner

Kashyyyk

Spreading Wings

Cat Breakfast

Kaller

Taking Flight

Nesting (Epilogue)

Do ya love it?? Reblog it! :D

No. He looks amazing. Thank you for sharing

A little portrait of Tech. Late for March 29 though.

TBB Headcanon: Crosshair Gave Omega Her Iconic Jacket from the Epilogue

Shameless Plug: This is tangentially related to my ongoing fic "Crosshair Accepts a (Helping) Hand." You don't need to read my fic to understand this post, but obviously, I hope you check it out once you're finished here...

Regarding this headcanon, it's quite possible I'm not the first person to share this. It's something I've wondered about since the TBB finale aired, and I know others have thoroughly discussed all of Adult Omega's possessions in the epilogue to see if there's any other connections or deeper meaning we might’ve missed on first viewing.

But, after the new Bad Batch comic "Ghost Agents" released a few weeks ago, I feel like my headcanon is all but confirmed.

So, let's recap:

In The Bad Batch series finale "The Cavalry Has Arrived," we get an epilogue where Omega leaves Pabu to join the Rebellion. She has a beautiful and tear-jerking scene where she bids farewell to a 50yo Hunter, and then flies off into the stars.

As people pointed out shortly after the finale aired, Omega has items representing each of her brothers, except Echo.

(If Echo is still alive at this point in the timeline, he's likely WITH the Rebellion. So, Omega doesn't really need any keepsake of his, because she's going to JOIN him.)

She is wearing a red bandana that may have been the same one Hunter wore earlier in the series. Or it's a new one that's at least reminiscent of Hunter's from S1-2. (She's also wearing a necklace that is the same one — or at least similar to — Hunter has in S1 according to BTS artwork.)

She has Tech's goggles on the dashboard of her ship.

Wrecker's Lula is seen aboard her ship as well.

And she has Crosshair's ....... bag?

While the items representing the other three brothers are obvious, Crosshair's is not.

Thus, some fans — myself included — figured that Crosshair was supposed to be represented by the bag that Adult Omega has. It looks nearly identical to the one she uses in S3, except that it now has a shoulder strap.

So, before I share my alternative, let's quickly examine this possibility:

Is Omega's bag supposed to represent Crosshair?

Omega first gets her bag in 3.04 "A Different Approach," when she and Crosshair are trying to blend in on Lau. She steals the bag from an alleyway and uses it to carry the credits she wins at the cantina.

I want to point out that Omega is the one who picks out the bag in the episode.

When she decides to go back for Batcher, she throws it at Crosshair, telling him to take the credits and leave.

He, of course, finds her and returns the bag and credits.

She then surrenders the bag and credits to the Imperial officer when they get caught trying to free Batcher. Crosshair then recovers the bag and tosses it onto one of the empty seats as he and Omega fly away from Lau.

The bag doesn't reappear until 3.05, when Omega uses it to store the Nala Se’s datapad when the Bad Batch visit Barton IV.

We see it again in 3.11, when she and Lyana place Tech's goggles and Wrecker's Lula in the Archium. She then places it atop the crates Crosshair and Hunter are pushing through the colonnade when the Marauder explodes.

I want to point out that, between the Marauder exploding and Omega's abduction, the bag is one of Omega's only possessions that survives Season 3.

Anything she had on her when she was taken to Tantiss was confiscated; and anything she had on the Marauder was likely destroyed or at least severely damaged.

Thus, it makes sense that Omega might find the bag on Pabu — perhaps where she left it in the colonnade — when she returns in the series finale, and she keeps the bag for the next several years.

The bag would no doubt be an important keepsake for Omega as one of the few items that survived the events of the series. Plus, once she added a shoulder strap, it'd be very functional and handy.

I don't have a problem with Adult Omega having this bag or one like it in the finale.

My problem is with the idea that the bag represents Crosshair.

Unlike the bandana, the goggles or Lula, the bag is not significant to Crosshair.

Hunter's bandana is iconic — one of the things that immediately sets him apart from a “standard” clone.

Tech's goggles are equally iconic for the same reason, and were probably the only item he used that survived both his death and the Marauder's explosion.

Lula was likely Wrecker's most prized possession during the Clone Wars, as he panicked when he couldn't find it on Kamino in the TBB series premiere.

Meanwhile, Crosshair does have some association with the bag, but it is tenuous at best.

Unlike the other three items, Crosshair never owned the bag and then gave it to Omega. He did not pick the bag out for her — she swiped it herself. He handled it twice and promptly returned it to Omega both times. In fact, none of the characters in the episode focus on the bag so much as the credits inside the bag.

Additionally, Omega's 30,000 credits are never brought up again after 3.04, despite Crosshair going out of his way to retrieve them/the bag during the shootout at the cargo dock.

So, because of that, it's quite possible that the showrunners intended for the bag to represent Crosshair in the epilogue.

It's an item associated with him and Omega, and Omega wouldn't have it if not for Crosshair. I mean: Why put so much focus on him retrieving the bag/credits, if the credits were never brought up again in the show?

However, like I said, I take issue with that idea.

I have no problem with Omega still using the same bag after all these years. I just don't think it should be the item that represents 'taking Crosshair with her,' the same way the bandana, the goggles and Lula represent her 'taking' her other brothers with her.

Granted, I latched onto the 'bag represents Crosshair' idea before because we really didn't have a clear alternative.

But that all changed with the new "Ghost Agents" comic...

Crosshair, Omega & the Leather Jacket(s)

In "Ghost Agents" Vol. 1, the Bad Batch is tasked with finding a thief that stole valuable information from the Republic. To find their thief, the Bad Batch dons civilian attire and goes down to the Coruscant underworld to get information.

Hunter wears a tank top, a scarf around his neck and bandages around his arms. Wrecker wears a long-sleeve top with pronounced cuffs. Tech appears to wear a long-sleeve shirt as well, although it's hard to tell because we don't get many panels of him in this sequence.

But Crosshair wears a jacket!

And it appears to be a leather flight jacket!

In "The Bad Batch" series, we don't get many instances of the male clones wearing true civilian clothes. We see Hunter in a shirt and Wrecker in a poncho in 1.02 “Cut and Run”; Echo wears his droid-like disguise in 1.04 “Cornered”; and Crosshair wears his ugly onesie with a baseball cap and toilet seat in 3.04 “A Different Approach.”

Other than Cut in 1.02, that’s about it.

The rest of the time, the male clones wear military armor/uniforms, some version of military fatigues, or prison uniforms. Even Emerie only wears a medical uniform.

I realize that in "The Bad Batch" series, the characters didn't have many options when it came to civilian attire/disguises.

But, in "Ghost Agents," they presumably had a little more time and resources at their disposal to put their disguises together. I mean, Hunter wrapped his arms in bandages for crying out loud! (And, believe me, I'm not complaining. He served with that look!)

So, presumably Crosshair picked out his jacket himself. It was something that fit with his character and his fashion sense.

That means that, in the entire TBB section of the Star Wars universe, the only two clones we've ever seen wear jackets are Crosshair and Omega.

That can't be a coincidence.

(Note, it's quite possible that other clones wear jackets in TCW series or in other Clone Wars/Rebels comics, but I'm not counting those. I'm only looking at the TBB arc in the TCW show, the TBB comics and the TBB show itself.)

The fact that both the jackets we see are leather (or at least part-leather) flight jackets can't be a coincidence either.

So, it makes more sense and feels more significant if Adult Omega's jacket — not her bag — is supposed to represent Crosshair!

My headcanon:

Unlike Tech's goggles or Wrecker's Lula, I doubt Crosshair owned the jacket first.

It's quite possible that Crosshair either made the jacket for Omega or picked it out for her.

Or, perhaps Omega picked it out herself, but Crosshair either helped her do so or altered it for her.

We see in one shot that it has a CF99 patch sown onto the shoulder. So, either it was custom-made by/for Omega OR it was altered at some point.

I'm fine with the idea that either Crosshair picked it out for her or that he altered it for her.

I wouldn't be surprised if something similar happened with Omega's bandana.

I doubt that's the same bandana Hunter had in S1-2. We see him wearing a thinner, darker one in S3. So, either he lost his original bandana or it was on the Marauder when it exploded. Either way, it probably didn't survive the events of S3.

Plus, the one Omega's wearing doesn't have the CF99 skull on it either, so I'm guessing it's a different bandana than Hunter’s from S1-2.

Perhaps the one she has in the epilogue is one she and/or Hunter found on Pabu, and Omega decided to get it — or he gave it to her — so she could wear it in his honor.

So, why couldn't the jacket work the same way but for Crosshair? Either he picked it out for her or he sewed the patch on for her?

Either way, it would represent him as she sets off on her new adventure.

And her badass flight jacket would be far more significant than a dumb bag he inadvertently retrieved for her one time several years prior. 3.04 is the only time Crosshair handles the bag or is associated with it. The rest of the time, it is in Omega's possession.

Again, it is her bag.

It wasn't something he picked out for her; it wasn't something he already owned and gave to her; and it wasn't a duplicate of an iconic part of his wardrobe.

So, yes, I'm much more inclined to believe the jacket is supposed to represent Crosshair, not the bag.

TL;DR

Unlike his brothers, Crosshair is not obviously and/or significantly represented by any of Omega's possessions in the TBB epilogue.

While some people might posit that Adult Omega's bag represents Crosshair — because it's likely the same bag the two of them had on Lau in 3.04 — that bag wasn't significant enough to Crosshair individually, unlike the items that represent his brothers.

Crosshair and Omega are the only two clones in the TBB show/comics we see wearing jackets.

Both of jackets we see them wearing are specifically leather flight jackets.

Omega's jacket was either custom-made or altered for her, as it has a CF99 patch on the shoulder.

Anyway, feel free to reblog or comment with your thoughts. I could be totally wrong about this. Like I said, it's quite likely the showrunners wanted the bag to represent Crosshair. Why else would they focus on him retrieving it in 3.04 if the credits never came up again? Why else ensure the bag survives the Marauder explosion in 3.11?

BUT with the "Ghost Agents" connection, I now feel like the jacket is Crosshair's true representation as Omega leaves Pabu for the Rebellion.

That's my headcanon and the TPTB can pry it from my cold, dead hands.

Again, check out the latest chapter of my ongoing fic, "Crosshair Accepts a (Helping) Hand," if you enjoyed reading this. I won't spoil anything for you, but I basically wrote this to justify a plot point in the latest chapter. ;)

The Two Bonded brothers

I keep thinking that Hunter can somehow feel Crosshair's presence or his gaze on himself. And the relationship between the older and younger brothers is the most difficult in the series. Does this mean that there is a special connection between these two? Definitely. It's like a bond of Force, only brotherly. I think those who have siblings will understand this (as I do).

The most amazing thing is that Hunter doesn't feel the same way about the other brothers, Wrecker or Tech. Although, how do we know? :)