#rebelwrites

Sunflowers & Blasters - Crosshair x OC - Rating: T, SFW

Summary: AU/Canon Divergent - Set after the rescue of Crosshair, Omega, and Tech from the clutches of Dr. Hemlock. The Batch settles down on Pabu and are, for the moment, able to hide from the Empire. Crosshair, with much grumbling, is convinced to see one of the local doctors to monitor his recovery. Unfortunately for Crosshair, Dr. Isabella Ramót is a ray of sunshine and a breath of fresh air - and totally capable of handling his harsh, rough demeanor.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16 - coming soon!

Shorts Fics/Drabbles:

Sibling Antics:

Citrus Silence - SFW

OC Drabbles:

CT-6161 Siren: Siren's Lullabye - SFW

Dr. Isabella Ramót "Bells" x Crosshair: A Game for Two - 18+ 🌶 (Mild Spice)

Tech x Reader:

Semantic Drift - SFW - A03 Link

When Logic Fails - SFW - AO3 Link

A Delicate Process - SFW - AO3 Link

When Feelings Aren't Logical - SFW

Sleep Now - SFW

First Kiss with Tech - SFW

Something There That Wasn't There Before - SFW

Crosshair x Reader:

Low Battery - SFW

Hunter x Reader:

Rival the Stars - SFW

Grown-ups are Weird - SFW

CF99 - Coffee Shop AU - SFW

Echo x Reader:

Good Morning with Echo - SFW

Kix x Reader:

First Kiss with Kix - SFW

Fox x Reader:

The Fox and the Hare - No Happy Ending, Halloween Special

First Kiss with Fox - SFW

Niner x Reader:

Safe & Sound - SFW

You couldn't take your tear-lined eyes off the burning metal. This was the car you'd had for years; the one you bought when you first moved to Charming, the car that caused your first appearance at Teller-Morrow, which led to Chibs spending countless hours fooling around with you as he taught you how to check your engine, the same car you'd comforted a crying Juice in and whisked a drunk Jax home with - the car you'd slowly made into your own. 

You couldn't move if you wanted to. Both feet stayed planted on the tarmac of the road, not even shifting when the sound of bikes grew louder behind you. 

Small sparks of burning fabric flew through the air and painted the dark night in an orange glow. For a moment you thought your legs might tumble down just like those scraps of fire. But even that couldn't take you out of your transfixed state.

The bikes had sped closer now, the men shouting your name to get away. One explosion had gone off and they couldn't be sure it would be the only one. They wished they had been wrong about the tactics the Nordics would use. But when they drove over the hill and saw the flames in the sky, they only wished they had figured it out sooner. Gemma's voice over the phone was what saved you from the same fate as your car, but nothing else inside it could say the same.

The frantic shouts behind you felt a dozen miles away, falling on deaf ears as your body remained still. You wanted to listen to them, you wanted them to take you to safety, yet your legs wouldn't let you and you knew it. Luckily, so did Chibs.

He stopped his bike at a safe distance and jumped off in an instant. Tig stood and Jax hopped off his bike too, but Chibs had gained the speed to reach you first. 

Your hands trembled by your side, tears threatening to spill when you felt a strong grip on your arm yanking you back. He held the tops of your arms from behind and pushed you toward the bikes quickly. The breath left your lungs when his body hunched over yours, almost knocking you on the ground where it not for his arms holding you to him, seconds before the fire engulfed in another eruption. 

Your chests rose and fell harshly, gasping for air as you peered over your shoulder at the wreckage. How could you have prepared for this, when less than 10 minutes ago you drove with the windows down and the music up. The memories and life and love the car had held was gone, and you were mere minutes away from having it happen to you too. 

Chibs moved his tight hold from your back to around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. He'd never seen you so rambled and so stricken by fear to the point you couldn't move. Both your hearts raced and the idea that you could have been part of the ash if it weren't for the club's quick actions had you weakly falling into his embrace. 

Tig flipped his phone open to let the Sons at the clubhouse know they got you, and Jax ran a hand through his hair as he perched back on his bike, staring at the fire with a blank face full of guilt. This could have been disastrous, and they escaped an awful outcome in far too narrow of a margin.

Chibs stroked your hair with his other hand, shaking slightly but nothing compared to the tremble in yours. "Fuckin' hell, lass." He muttered, sighing deeply and kissing the top of your head as your body shook in his arms, tears finally rid of their shock-frozen state and streaming down your cheeks. 

He had been surprised when Guerin had texted him earlier, asking if he was free that evening.  Guerin had been acting oddly for a while now, ignoring Max and picking fights with practically everyone in town.  Frankly, Alex thought that they might not be in a relationship anymore, or whatever you could call their...thing.  But Alex had been sitting in his room, doing his homework, trying to ignore the fact that his dad had forgotten his Birthday, again.  Figuring he had nothing better to do, he responded that nothing was going on, and arranged for a ride.   

As Alex trailed after Guerin, they stopped in front of a room labelled 102, the ‘2’ hanging haphazardly on the door.  Guerin produced a key, flicked on the light, and reached out to grab Alex’s hand, pulling him in behind him.  

Alex had been expecting a dingy room, one you would typically find at a sketchy motel like this was.  And the room was definitely dingy.  There was a faint odor in the air, stains on the comforter, and there wasn’t a door to the bathroom.  But there were streamers hanging all over the room, a handful of balloons, and a single cupcake, resting on a napkin on the table.  He was speechless.  

“I know the room isn’t the cleanest, and I’m not really the best decorator, but -” Guerin started to say but was cut off as Alex pushed him against the wall, his tongue plunging into Guerin’s mouth.  Alex could feel his knees weaken as Guerin took control of the kiss, his hands gripping Alex’s hips possessively.  

“I guess you like it?” Guerin said, a grin stretching across his face as his hand cupped the front of Alex’s jeans.

“Shut up Guerin,” Alex replied, motioning Guerin towards the direction of the bed.  “And take your pants off,” he added, stripping his own clothes off in a hurry.  

Trent's sat in the briefing room when the rest of Bravo arrives, looking rather like death warmed up. Jason opens his mouth, presumably to ask him what's wrong, but Trent fixes him with a steely glare over his mug. Brock cracks a grin at the mug; printed on the side is WORLD'S BEST DAD with the DAD being crossed out and Sonny's handwriting scrawling MEDIC next to it. It's old, already in use by the time Brock had joined Bravo, from Trent's Bravo Six days.

Trent sips his black-as-ink coffee and waits for Bravo to settle down. Blackburn and Ellis are running late and so is Metal, it would seem. When all of Bravo is sat, Trent brings the mug away from his mouth.

"When Scott gets here, I get the first say." Perhaps Metal is hiding? Brock wouldn't exactly blame him, because inducing Trent's pre-coffee wrath was rather like wearing a necklace of steak and walking into a cage full of starving lions. An uneasy look passes between Ray and Jason. Behind them, the door clicks open and in walks Metal, a cup of coffee in hand. And he's a sight to see.

A bruise runs from his cheekbone to his temple, purple and black with yellow edges. He locks eyes with Trent and freezes for a second before his hands come up defensively. "I can explain."

"Oh, can you?" The threat in Trent's tone makes Metal wince before he strides up to the table. Written in block letters across the side is SAWYER and Trent accepts it with a glare to rival Metal's signature one. "Can you explain why I had to talk some lovely officers out of arresting you last night?"

That's news to the rest of them, who look over to Metal, who in turn straightens his back and replies with a surprisingly steady "They weren't going to arrest me."

"Scott, you were in the back of a police car."

"Coincidence."

"Oh really!?"

Having time alone was a cherished thing for anyone, but to Hanzo alone meant something different than what it once was. Alone used to mean he was by himself, away from his family, outcast from Hanamura. Alone used to mean wandering taking hired jobs hoping to settle his shaking heart. Now alone meant getting to come back home. Home to Jesse and the room they shared, and the mixed smell of tea and tobacco. He smiled feeling arms wrap around his waist from behind setting down his cup on the table, spinning in this chair to look back at his boyfriend. His tanned freckles flushed a shade of red, probably from all they had been drinking. His hat was still perched on his head, albeit a little crooked. Music Hanzo had long forgotten about was still playing in the background, and “May I have this dance darlin’?” He asked sweetly, pressing a kiss to Hanzo’s nose making the blush spread further. He huffed and rolled his eyes, sliding his hand into his boyfriend's, standing toe to toe with the larger man.

“I didn’t know you liked dancing Jesse.” Hanzo said, laughing into the crook of his boyfriend's neck.

“Don’t normally doll, but for you I make an exception.” Jesse drawled, kissing the top of the shorter mans head. He felt Hanzo hum in agreement, and they stood swaying, Hanzo laughing at his boyfriend's clumsy attempts to dance. “M’ not that drunk honey, you don’t have to laugh.” He pouted.

“And I’m the Pope if you are not that drunk.” Hanzo deadpanned, staring at the cowboys flushed face, soaking in the familiar features. Jesse began to laugh, drawing Hanzo in tighter, peppering kisses across his face. Hanzo loved seeing Jesse this relaxed, out of business mode. It was one thing to see him around the base, where he had an air of controlled casuality about him. It was another for him to be relaxed enough to where there was no visible tension in his face. Jesse had almost collapsed in a fit of laughter by the time the archer was pulled out of his thoughts.

“Fuck, I ain’t never heard you make a wise crack like that.” He laughed, heavy southern drawl muddling with his alcohol. Hanzo smirked, tightening his grip on the taller man.

“I’m full of surprises, such as this.”He remarked, smoothly and effortlessly dipping the much heavier man, his head thrown back in another fit of laughter. “See, what did I tell-” Hanzo’s sentence was cut off by McCree sliding out of his arms onto the floor gently dropping all of two inches. This sent Jesse into even further hysterics, pulling Hanzo on top of him.

His face was a deep red, embarrassed that he dropped Jesse on the floor. They laid on the floor, Hanzo tucking his face into Jesse’s chest, Jesse shaking with laughter, gasping for air. “This is the most I’ve laughed in awhile. I love you sugar.” The cowboy managed to gasp between stray giggles, lifting Hanzo’s face out of his chest. He gently pulled the archer’s lips to his, brushing stray lock of black hair behind Hanzo’s ear.

Isabella started awake at the sound of her comm ringing, loud and obnoxious– and far, far too early in her opinion.

The mattress shifted and she heard a deep groan. Crosshair's voice was rougher than usual, “Ugh, don’t answer–” He was face down covered almost entirely in the thick covers, an almost disembodied arm reached blindly for the offending noise.

Kriff, that's sexy, the thought burned in her chest. Isabella dodged his aimless move easily, “It’s Desi. Could be an emergency–”

Voice still muffled by the pillows, he countered, “They’ve got it covered–” This time, he emerged from the covers, hair attractively mussed, leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder.

With some effort, she resisted the urge to lean down and return the kiss and have a very different kind of wake up call. Instead, she angled herself just enough to keep Crosshair out of frame and answered the call, “Desi? What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

The face of her dearest friend appeared on the holo, her face bright and full of energy, “Yes, Izzy, everything’s fine– wait.” She paused, squinting suspiciously, “Are you still in bed?”

“Mhmm.” Isabella nodded, hoping the fact that she’d just woken up would hide the renewed flush of her cheeks.

“Wow, two days in a row! That’s gotta be a record for you. Did Crosshair tie you down or something?”

Isabella coughed, catching Crosshair’s slight devious smile out of the corner of her eye, and shot Desi an intense glare.

“Oh, based on that blush maybe he should.”

“Anyway!”

Crosshair chuckled beside her and she shot him a wide eyed warning glare.

If Desi noticed, she said nothing. She clicked her tongue and grinned, “Alright, well, up you get! Get dressed. I’m on my way with pastries, but I still have to stop for the caf. You want your usual?”

Isabella gasped, almost choking on her own saliva, “No!” She yelled.

“No…” Desi scrutinized her friend more closely, “Izzy, you never say no to caf and pastries…” Movement drew her eyes down and to the side, Crosshair’s arm had wrapped around Izzy’s waist, pulling her closer. “Oooh! No wonder you’re still in bed.” Her eyebrows wiggled provocatively,  “Chuckles, that wasn’t really what I meant by keeping her busy, but…”

Isabella could feel his cheeky smile against her back and he mumbled, “It worked, didn’t it?” Earning him a swift elbow to his side.

“I’ll meet you at the Cafe, Desi.” Izzy snapped out a quick goodbye and ended the comm. “You both are going to end me.”

Crosshair, arm still curled around her waist, pulled her in close, finding comfort in how she simply followed the tug of his arm and curled up against him once more. Later his mind would likely find some way to convince him he should be afraid of the closeness they’d developed, or how much he craved it, but for now he would indulge.

Shortly, and much shorter than either truly wanted, Isabella extracted herself from their tangled embrace, and the enticing warmth of the covers, and placed a parting kiss to his temple. She took her time getting dressed, taking care of all her hygienic needs, before turning her focus to fixing her tangled hair. She sat at her small desk which was situated in the corner across the small room. She leaned forward, staring into the small mirror and willing her curls into braids, then forming the braids around two large buns. In the reflection, she watched as Crosshair sat up on the bed. His hair was wildly messy atop his head and she had to bite her lip to suppress the heat building at the sight of him. His eyes met hers in the reflection and he arched an eyebrow at her. Caught!

She cleared her throat, ignoring the pounding of her heart in her ears, and said, “Feel free to make yourself at home… not that you have to just sit around waiting for me to come back. You can leave, if you want. But you're welcome to stay…too.” She looked down instinctively as she stumbled over her words, feeling slightly like an awkward teen talking to their crush. 

When she looked back up, Crosshair rolled his eyes and stood, in two long strides he was behind her with a self satisfied smirk, “Hunter and Omega wanted me to come by to help with something, anyway. He thinks I'm avoiding him.”

“Are you avoiding him?”

“Only when he's being a pest…” Isabella stared pointedly at him and he shrugged, “So, Yes.”

She shook her head and stood, now finished with her hair, and reached a hand up to run her fingers through his curls “You've really let it grow out. I like it.”

He paused, thinking for a moment, then shrugged, “Hmm.” He glanced at the chrono and made a shooing motion, “Go on, don't keep Desi waiting.”

She nodded, gathered her things and took one last glance in the mirror before heading to the door, taking the leather jacket Crosshair had gifted her. She halted at the threshold and turned back around, biting her lip, “You– You could come back tonight… And stay. If you want.”

He hesitated only briefly, crushing the sharp tinge of fear in his chest, “Would you like me to, Bells?”

Her stomach bottomed out and she swore he could hear her heart thumping across the room. She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, unable or too afraid to say the words out loud.

“Hmm?” He smirked playfully, but his eyes darkened slightly.

“I'd like you to stay, Cross.”

A simple nod, “I'll be here.”

The Cafe was only a ten minute walk from her home. It was set on a lovely overlook of the West side of the island with a striking view of the ocean against the horizon. The owner, an elderly Twi'lek couple who’d lived on Pabu for three generations, had cultivated a lovely hanging garden for customers to sit beneath as they enjoyed their drinks. Izzy had chosen their favorite table beneath an aromatic array of florals and with a direct view of the waters below. 

“Have a nice long night, Izzy?” Desi teased as Izzy took a seat across from her.

“You’re terrible.” She chuckled but leaned in and winked, “But yes.”

“Crosshair’s really brought out so much more of your personality, Izzy. I've missed that. And he seems as determined as I am to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Yes–yes, I get it. I’m bad at taking my own advice…” She sighed, leaning back and staring up at the flowers hanging above. It was a beautiful arrangement of colors against the bright blue of Pabu’s sky. The view always gave her a strange sense of nostalgic longing. She sighed, “Aren’t we a pair… First, he refuses to take care of himself and now he’s throwing my own words back at me.”

Desi mumbled under her breath, “Hm. Wonder what that could be like…”

“Listen–” Izzy sat up straighter, grabbing her cup with both hands, a soothing action.

“I guess the grump’s not too bad…” Desi  chuckled.

Izzy’s eyes squinted, “Wait– that sounded almost like– approval. Desi, who are you?” 

“I never said I didn’t approve! You have every right to be interested in whoever you want. I just wanted to be clear that if he hurt you I’d break his face.” Desi shrugged and her face softened as she spoke, “It did take some time, but I think he’s growing on me. It’s obvious that he truly cares for you, Izzy. And that’s all that I ask.”

She sipped her caf slowly, “Didn’t take you two long to gang up on me though…”

Desi huffed, “Well if you’d stop pretending every other person is more important than you, then we wouldn’t have to.”

The force of her words shook Izzy, guilt and shame souring the contents of her stomach.

Desi reached across the table, placing her hand softly over her friend’s. “I don’t think you understand how important you are to people– to me. And now to Crosshair.” She gave a gentle squeeze, “Izzy, you have people who love you and when you refuse to take care of yourself and prioritize every other person but yourself– It scares me. We’ve both lost enough family. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

Barely managing to hold back her tears, Izzy met her eyes, “You’re right, Desi,  I’m sorry. I–I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask.”

After a heavy moment of silence, Desi smirked, “Now, tell me about this date with Crosshair…”

Crosshair didn’t wait long after Isabella left before getting himself ready to go, aside from taking the time to brew a cup of caf, which he drank while he tidied the room. He located all clothing articles, his boots, and the bag he’d borrowed from Wrecker and made one last sweep of the room for anything missing or out of place. He still had a few hours before he was set to meet with Hunter and Omega, but he couldn’t stay. It was too uncomfortable being in her space without her there, even if she had invited him to stick around. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t belong here without her.

Finally ready to go, he sat for a moment on the end of the bed sighing to himself. Perhaps he had been avoiding Hunter… maybe. He didn’t particularly want to see that smug look on his face when he asked about Isabella. Kriff, I hate it when he’s right.

[A few weeks ago-]

“So– When are you going to stop brooding about her–”

“Hunter.”

“She’s shut herself up behind endless work. You're worried and you're taking it out on everyone else.”

“It's fine, Hunter. Keep your nose out of it.”

“Look, you need to talk to her. She listens to you. And then apologize to Omega… after your last lesson she came back in a rage mumbling about you calling her shots lazy and sloppy. She hasn't stopped practicing but to eat and sleep for days.”

“She's dedicated. That's good.”

“Crosshair… you shouted at her and she still hit every target. She's just a kid.”

“Fine. But not because you told me to… Because Bells is gonna kill herself if she keeps going like this.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, Cross.”

He had later “apologized” to Omega by gifting her a stabilizing attachment for her bow. It seemed to be enough.

Crosshair sighed, mentally waving away those thoughts, running a hand over his short curls, the feeling bringing a sudden warmth to his chest. Maybe I’ll keep it for a little longer, the thought. He took time to water the little struggling plant Bells kept in the kitchen and secure the area before leaving. He made mental notes of unsecured entry and exit points and resolved to talk to Bells later about fixing them.

It was a rare quiet walk to Hunter’s, a soft, warm breeze adding a strange sort of melancholy that Crosshair couldn’t put his finger on. So he elected to ignore it.

Before the house even came into view, Crosshair could hear Omega, she yelled something unintelligible at Hunter, followed by that unmistakable laugh. As he rounded the corner, Omega came running with a wild grin on her face, nearly crashing into him in her haste. Little menace.

“Crosshair!” She grabbed his hand and tugged, wasting no time with any further greetings.

He sighed but followed the tug of her hand. She led him into their yard, it was strewn about with tools, paints, and various sizes of brushes. Once there she let go of his hand and rushed off inside, leaving him standing awkwardly in the yard. Wonderful.

“You done avoiding me yet?”

Crosshair rolled his eyes, “Don’t be so dramatic, Hunter.”

Hunter ignored the dry comment, cocking an eyebrow with an infuriating smirk, “...How was your date?”

“Off limits.” “

He clicked his tongue, “What's not off limits?”

Omega burst out from the house with a startlingly familiar helmet, catching Crosshair's attention, “Where’d you find this thing, Kid?” He lifted it from her hands, rotating it slowly to get a good look. It was a standard issue clone cadet helmet. 

She beamed up at him and pulled it back from his grasp, “Echo brought it back with him, said he thought I’d need it looking after you two.” She plopped it over her head with a dull ‘shunk’, “‘Sa little big, though.” Her voice was muffled within the helm.

He rapped his knuckles twice against the top, “You’ll grow into it.”

Hunter grumbled quietly, “-Rather she didn’t…”

Crosshair rolled his eyes and tapped the top of Omega’s helmet once more for good measure. “Didn’t you need help with something?”

Omega was spurred to action, grabbing Crosshair’s hand and pulling him to follow her, “Come here! I want to customize my armor– like you did, like our squad!” He was led around the side of the yard where splayed out on the ground were various small pieces of armor, not a full kit, but enough. Omega sized. Shoulder pauldrons, vambraces, leg and shin guard attachments, a chest plate, and the newest addition– the helmet. They’d all been stripped of any identifying marks or colors and it was obvious she’d spent time cleaning and caring for each piece.

She removed the helmet, holding it against her side, like a soldier. Hunter’s voice was clipped, “I tried to tell her she doesn’t need armor…” He crossed his arms over his chest.

Omega rolled her eyes and fixed him with a pointed glare, “Hunter, I’ve been captured by the Empire twice…”

He cleared his throat and huffed a heavy sigh, “Doesn’t hurt to be prepared...”

Her face lit up- victory! She bounced and ran back to gather the brushes and paint.

Crosshair leaned in close to Hunter, “Gave you the Tooka Eyes?”

“...”

“You’ve gone soft, Hunter.” Crosshair teased.

“She wanted you here, too. For this. Wanted us to work on it together.”

“...I'll check my schedule.”

Back she came, a chaotic whirlwind, with arms precariously full of small cans of paint and various sizes of paint brushes, “Tech and I made the rest of the pieces! What do you think?” She dropped the items in a messy pile, yanking a small item from the bottom and holding it out on display, “Oh! And Wrecker gave me this–” in her hand was a miniature Lula attachment, likely for a belt or bag, “He said it’s for disarming explosives!”

Omega was vibrating with excitement, jumping up and down, “We should update your armor, too, Crosshair.”

“My armor is fine…”

She leaned up, eyes sparkling and big as saucers, “Oh! Maybe Izzy can help!”

He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, “O-kay- Slow down, kid.”

Hunter didn’t bother hiding his laugh, earning a glare from Crosshair, then walked away towards the mess of paint supplies.

Omega became suddenly quiet, watching her brothers preparing the area for their joint project.

“What’s all this about, Omega?” Hunter had that concerned dad look on his face, “The armor, the painting, you’ve been training with Wrecker and Tech more. I know you want to be prepared–”

Omega squared her shoulders, “I don’t want my family to be forgotten… The Empire’s not going to stop, they’re not slowing down, and I’m gonna be ready. And when it happens I’ll have you all with me.” She kneels down next to the armor and touches the helmet softly. 

Crosshair and Hunter remain silent for a long moment before locking eyes and nodding at each other. Hunter placed a hand over hers, “They won’t stand a chance.”

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