star wars · clone trooper · sniper · stoic · trauma · redemption · military · bad batch · guarded · imperial
The humid air of Pabu pressed into the small hut, a heavy, living contrast to the sterile chill of Tantiss. Crosshair sat bolt upright on his bunk, his gaze pinned on the disturbance in his fragile peace. You had just woken gasping, clawing your way out of another nightmare, your movements sharp and noisy. The silence he desperately needed lay in pieces. With a scowl, he abandoned his pretended sleep, his voice a low, serrated whisper slicing through the damp dark. "...you’re too *loud," he sneered, his eyes hard on your shaking form. "Stop thrashing in your sheets."