#jumpseat

[cherry-bomb-ships]

Ohhhhh this is definitely boutta be a "let the madness consume me" kinda work day 💀💀💀💀💀

[i-love-linux-and-reject-gender]

the worst thing about 9/11 is that you aren't able to visit airliner cockpits during cruise anymore

[torturedpoetdean]

when a fic makes you feel like you’re being flayed alive and you start gasping for air after every paragraph 😌😌 yeah that’s that good shit 🔥🔥🔥

[ring-rong-rang-rung]

Doing seasonal work for (company) as a driver helper has made me want to make a Cybertronian delivery truck OC so badly, I'm not gonna lie.

[chaoticdreamers-world]

for some reason, whumpee gets the jumpseat on the 15-hour flight, just as they were already coming down with a cold.

[duchesschameleon]

wish I didn’t have reasons to keep Facebook around and active but I do and I swear every reminder I get about people from high school who are still together or getting married just makes me question everything

[twelvemartha]

Martha sitting in the jumpseat

[badbatchsprincess]

Heated ~ pt.18

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6 ~ Pt.7 ~ Pt.8 ~ Pt.9 ~ Pt.10 ~Pt.11 ~ Pt.12 ~ Pt.13 ~ Pt.14 ~ Pt.15 ~ Pt.16 ~ Pt.17 ~ Pt.18

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake. 

Warnings: Violence, gore, kidnapping, Tarkin is a creepy hoe, Crosshair being a dick, Dom!Crosshair, smut, orgasm denial, spanking, mate bonds, Pip is influenced by Crosshair’s presence

DADDYYYYY'SSSS HOOOOMMMEEEE!

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

“I can’t believe she’s alive, sir.” You heard a woman’s voice echo in your mind. Her sound was unfamiliar to you. 

The second thing you noticed was the mechanical whirl of the cold floor below you, everything was cold. Except for the warm softness under your throbbing head. Staying entirely still, you waited for your body to catch up with your hearing. You recalled your trauma training, wiggling each toe inside your boot, then moving up each joint and muscle throughout your legs before testing the response in your other extremities. It helped get your mind grounded in your body again as you lay on the cold ship floor.

Based off the smells, you knew you were no longer with your pack. This was new territory which only means one thing….

You’re in imperial custody. 

You heard Crosshair’s familiar silvery voice mumble something back to the woman but decided you were going to try and figure out your situation first, listening before acting. He was close by you deduced, probably standing guard over your pallet on the floor. You were also aware that you had very limited time before you’d get to wherever they were taking you. 

Listening a little closer, you heard plastoid armor shuffling all around you, there must be soldiers in the jumpseats lining his transport vessel. You heard the whirl of the ship knowing the engines were located on the under belly making it a newer model. Tech told you about their engineering. Usually the engine cores are located on the back of vessels, but new military class ships with loading ramps build the engines into the floor. 

“What happened to her?” The woman asked again probably referencing the cut to your head and whatever sorry state you were currently found in. 

“She got injured from that helmet they had on her.” Crosshair said shuffling his boots, he was standing right above your head. 

You felt the air shift around you and sensed someone was coming near you, “She looks…stronger… than most omegas.” She said skeptically. You could feel the woman kneeling behind you as he observed your form. 

“She wasn’t like that the last time I saw her, but she has been running with mercenaries.” Crosshair put a toothpick back into his mouth. 

“That doesn’t seem normal for her kind.” You felt her lightly brush a curious finger tip over your collarbone but Crosshair’s snarl stopped her. 

That was when you decided to act. 

Crosshair’s second in command let out a startled gasp when you suddenly flew up off the pallet wrapping your legs around her neck in a vice grip making her claw at your legs as you squeezed the life from the soldier. 

“Kriff.” Crosshair shot up off the wall but you got up quickly knowing you’d have to keep your distance from him. The second in command rolled her side, heaving, trying to get oxygen back into her lungs. 

You sprung into action, taking the other storm troopers by surprise. You reached into your back belt where Hunter had put his blade and you gripped the handle firmly bringing it to your front. The first trooper that tried to grab you got his forearm slashed deeply making him scream and retreat. You then brought the knife down harshly into his neck kicking him away from you to bleed out. 

“Get her under control!” Crosshair barked out nearing you. 

You grabbed another trooper kicking him in the chest sending him backwards into Crosshair while you turned on the others using your blade to cut and slash your way through the mob. 

“What the fuck!” One of the soldiers exclaimed as you expertly kicked out his knees and brought him to the ground using the knife and your vast knowledge of the human body to end his life in an instant. 

“Omega!” Crosshair yelled but you ignored him. The severed bond seemed to have also prevented his alpha command from working. You were free from his influence.

Crosshair suddenly realized his one fatal mistake… you had been trained… by Echo. 

He watched you cut down his men like they were nothing more than canon fodder. It was shocking. More of his men came flooding into the blood bath hearing the commotion. 

You snarled at them flipping yourself through the air using your boots and beskar armor to bash them down into the durasteel floor with a harshness you were unaware you carried. When you reached down to grab a discarded blaster, Crosshair’s second raised her blaster aiming at you. 

“Do. Not. Kill. Her!” Crosshair pushed her weapon to the side watching the plasma bolt burrow into the side of the ship. You watched her miss, and you turned on them, aiming your own gun and pulling the trigger. They both dodged out of the way in time, but you unleashed your training on the other unsuspecting troopers. 

“I’ve never seen an omega do that!” You heard his second yell over the bangs. 

“She’s no average omega.” Crosshair pressed himself into the crate keeping himself out of your range, “Set it to stun.”

He peeked his head out from behind the crate to find you heaving, covered in crimson blood, taking a trooper down into a flurry on the ground. Hunter’s blade had gotten knocked from your hands in the fight but that didn’t stop you. 

If Crosshair wasn’t so set on his mission to detain you, he would have stopped to admire your work. He guessed all those months with his brothers, you had changed. No longer were you the meek little republic medic, but you had turned into a warrior. 

“She’s going to kill the whole company if we wait any longer.” His second, Wren looked anxious. She was the best solder coming out of the imperial military academy. She was specifically selected for this very delicate mission which seemed to go in a direction neither of them had anticipated. 

“We can’t hurt her,” Crosshair drilled into the two of them, “Nothing can hurt her!” 

“I got that, but she’s fucking feral!” Wren scrunched back against the crate as a bloody helmet went flying by, “She’s going to tear apart the ship.” 

And just like you had with Echo, it was like you got a whisper in your ear and you knew exactly what Crosshair had planned to do. He was between you and the cockpit of the ship. Mate or not, you were getting to that damn cockpit even if you had to kill the bastard to get there. 

Just as you sensed him and the female trooper emerge from behind the crates, you spun, grabbing one of the flailing troopers by the collar, using him as a human shield for Crosshair’s stun ray. The young trooper dropped like dead weight and you watched as the woman pulled her trigger in your direction. You just stepped out of the way letting the stun ray fly right past you into a trooper behind you. 

You used your boot to kick a discarded riffle up into your hands flicking off the safety. 

Wren and Crosshair aimed for a second shot, but you beat them to it. It was like your body was moving on its own accord. Like something took over you… 

You momentarily wondered if this is what it’s like being Crosshair. If so, you felt powerful. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. There was such cool collectedness. Such pure concentration.

Raising the weapon up and tucking it into your arm, you unloaded onto their crates missing Crosshair by, well, a hair. You heard him curse and duck while Wren threw herself down onto the ground to duck for cover. 

“You’re going to take me back to Bracca now!” You snarled with a voice that didn’t even sound like your own. It was something silvery and wicked. 

Crosshair’s voice was breathier than usual, “Learn some new tricks huh, omega?” 

“You have no fucking idea.” You fired a few more bullets reminding him you still had the gun. 

“I can’t take you back, Pip.” He said grabbing one of his plasma reflectors. He tossed it onto the wall watching you through the reflection. 

You crept closer stepping over the gargling troopers who had fallen victim to your blade. 

“Fine.” You smiled viciously, “Then I’ll kill youm and take the ship back myself.” 

“You can’t do that mesh’la.” He sounded cocky, “You forget… you’ll die too.” 

You smiled devilishly, “That’s no longer a concern.” 

He furrowed his brow as he very slowly reached for fire puncher. Wren watched him anxiously clenching her own blaster. What the hell did you mean by that?

“Our bond has been severed, alpha.” You taunted. 

Crosshair’s stomach knotted… what did you just say? 

“Notice how your commands no longer work on me?” You kicked one of the destroyed helmets forward making Wren flinch. Never had she ever seen an omega like you. 

You chuckled, “Your brothers made sure I’d be severed from you.” Bending down, you picked up the bloody knife holding it in your free hand. It was like Crosshair’s base instincts were flooding your entire being. It was thrilling. Having a peek inside his brain was like being dowsed in chilled spring water.

“Thats not possible.” He bit out watching you raise your weapon.

“But it is sweetheart.” You noticed the curve of his second’s back bowing out from behind the crate carelessly. 

You locked onto your target hoping to roust her out of her hiding spot to get a clean shot. 

Crosshair had to time his shot perfectly, or it would just be you and him. And while he was confident he could take you in hand to hand, you may not let it get to that point if you keep acting like a fucking ARC trooper. Fucking Echo maker kark it. 

He watched you tighten your grip and peer down the scope, “What? Nothing to say?” 

He remained silent, focusing on aiming his own shot perfectly through the reflector. Right as he sensed you squeeze the trigger, he quickly pulled his own. He heard both you and Wren shriek, as your bullet graze Wren’s back, while his bullet knocked the gun from your hands. He stood up in an instant ready to stun you when you threw Hunter’s knife with all your force, watching it soar through the air rotating at the speed of light. Crosshair just barely stepped out of the way to made his shot while the tip of the blade sliced through the side of his skull just missing his ear.

He watched you collapse into the puddle of blood with a thump as he pressed his palm to the side of his head feeling the blood pour.

He did it. 

He made the shot. 

Wren whined in pain and he set down his riffle to check on his second. He flipped her over seeing the angry red canyon you’d carved through her back all the way to her opposite rib. That was definitely going to leave a scar. The alpha screamed in agony as Crosshair maneuvered her to keep her off her back. 

Then he ran over to you. Your stunned body lay amongst your victims. He almost couldn’t believe the brutality in which you killed them. It was like you had been trained your entire life in combat. There was no way Echo could have conditioned you that quickly. He was stunned. He looked around at the ship seeing all the blood splatters and stray bullets. It looked like a butcher was in here. He just couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Has the target been detained?” The pilots asked from the cockpit.

Crosshair radioed back, “Yeah, but let command know we’re going to need a clean up team.” 

He stared down at your limp figure, you were covered head to toe in his men’s blood. He shook his head still shocked you had caused so much violence, Wren’s pained cries echos off the durasteel walls drawing his attention away from the slaughter. 

~~~

Crosshair had taken extra precaution and used a pair of binders to keep your wrists detained as he slung your body over his shoulder. You dangled limply as the landing ramp opened up to the comfortable warm Nabooan air. 

On the tarmac, a team of hazmat troopers arrived to carry away the deceased, and a squad of medics came to help Wren while the remaining two pilots exited the ship with Crosshair. He didn’t miss the way the entire garrison stared in absolute abject horror at the tiny bloody omega on his shoulder. 

He heard their murmurs and knew that they were discussing his infamous mate. 

You had become quite the conversation after Tarkin made it his upmost top priority to track you down and retrieve you with no expense spared. 

Crosshair had also torn apart the base when he first felt the bond sever. He knew his outburst had reached every corner of the imperial base with gossip. Of course everyone was beginning wondering who this important omega was, and why she was so important to Tarkin’s favorite soldier and the empire itself. 

Crosshair heard the whispers and the gasps at seeing you and the damage you had caused on the way over here. 

“Is that her?” 

“An omega did that?” 

“Is that her blood?” 

“Did he do that to her?”

The hushed comments continued as Crosshair crossed the landing pad carrying you inside. Tarkin was alerted immediately that you had been found and brought back to Naboo upon entry to Nabooan airspace. 

“Is this her?” Tarkin asked approaching the sniper curiously. 

“Yes.” Crosshair replied coldly. 

“What happened?” Tarkin observed the dripping blood on his pristine floors from your bound finger tips. 

“She killed the entire squadron.” Crosshair adjusted his grip on you. 

“Alone?” The admiral questioned. His skepticism was evident. 

“Yes.” Crosshair said plainly, “It appears my batch mates have been training her in close quarter combat.” 

“How many of your men?” 

“All of them. She nearly had the captain too.” Crosshair watched Tarkin circle the two of you looking very pleased, “She killed the medic that treated her on Bracca, but he insisted I get her to a bacta tank. She fell nearly two stories during an explosion.”

The admiral hummed in displeasure. He gestured for another medic who came running over to them, “Get a medical team prepared to treat her. She must make a full recovery.” Tarkin ordered. 

Crosshair watched the medic leave and return with a stretcher which Crosshair carefully set your body down on. The sniper and the admiral keeping a close pace behind the medic as he pushed you towards the medical wing. 

“Has she always been vicious?” Tarkin questioned bending down to get a look at your face. 

Crosshair noticed a small audience gathering in the halls trying to get a peak at his mate, “I’ve heard stories of her past, but I haven’t witnessed it myself until today.” Crosshair said, “Her violence had been instinctual… protecting pups.” 

“Very good.” Tarkin approved, “I want you to take good care of her. She’s a remarkable specimen. She must remain in optimal health.” 

“Sir?” Crosshair questioned. 

Tarkin gave him a tight lipped smile, “I want you to retire being a soldier and be her… Alpha. You may keep her, as I am sure you desire that now that you know she is in fact alive” 

“Just so I’m clear, you don’t wish for me to serve the empire any longer?” Crosshair was confused. Tarkin didn’t want him to be a sniper anymore?

Tarkin gestured for Crosshair to enter into the medical lab before him. 

“You will continue to serve the empire but you have a new purpose.” Tarkin explained as the two of them trailed towards the new residential sector. “Your mate is a very rare variant lupine. She is not to leave this facility as she is integral to our new project. She’s a very unique specimen indeed.” 

“Rare variant?” He questioned, watching the beta scientists carefully lift your limp body up into the bacta tank. They removed the binders and started peeling off your boots and outer layers before beginning the sequence to drop you in. 

Tarkin watched the process as well, “Her kind is not bound by monogamy like the rest of us. I was skeptical at first, I don’t believe she knows what she is either. Most of her kind have been hunted into extinction.” 

“May I ask what you need her for?” Crosshair felt a tinge of anxiety simmer in his stomach. His alpha instincts weren’t liking this. He just got you back, he wasn’t letting anyone take you from him. Not now.

Tarkin explained, “We are looking for the most effective way to replenish our military. Sure, mandatory conscription is convenient, but it has been made very obvious to us that the clones were and are superior soldiers. We wish to bring forward another generation of warriors made from clone DNA and…” He gestured to your limp body. Crosshair tensed and bit back a snarl.

Tarkin continued, “However, we understand that the omega picks her mates, as she has with you and other clones we discovered through some… interrogations.” 

Crosshair knew he was referring to Captain Howzer. His fists tightened slightly. The jealousy he tried so hard to repress was rearing its ugly head. 

“She has a natural disposition for attraction to clones, she’s extremely intelligent, and as we have now learned, she has a calling to violence. She’s the perfect candidate for our program, and due to her very rare genetic variation she isn’t bound to monogamy, which means more pups… my head scientists believes that she will be a remarkable specimen for a new cloning program.” Tarkin clasped his hands behind his back. 

Crosshair forced himself to take a silent breath. 

Tarkin wishes to clone you? 

He watched the blood caked to your skin dissolve in the bacta solution as you floated peacefully.  

Crosshair looked sideways at the Admiral, “You wish to clone her, then breed her clones with other clones?” Crosshair was trying to follow along. The empire wanted to create an entire generation of clone offspring… using you…

“Precisely.” Tarkin nodded curtly. 

Crosshair turned and looked to the admiral waiting for the catch. 

Tarkin just smiled and looked up at his favorite sniper, “Keep her happy and healthy, those are yournew orders.” 

Crosshair nodded. This has to be the strangest set of orders he’s ever received. He watched Tarkin spin on his heel and head for the door.

The Admiral was about to leave the medical bay before he angled his head looking over his shoulder back to Crosshair, “and I expect you to complete the mate bond, and pup her, as soon as possible.” Tarkin paused waiting for Crosshair’s response. 

Crosshair just nodded, trying to make himself speak “Yes, sir.” 

Tarkin gave a satisfied huff as he marched out of the facility. Crosshair just stared blankly at the empty walk-way trying to even begin to understand all the information he just received. 

This just got a lot more complicated. 

~~~

The sharp taste of bacta coated your mouth making you smack your lips together trying to clear it. Your mouth was unbearably dry and when you tried to open your eyes, you felt like they had been welded shut. You groaned rubbing at them trying to will your eye lids to obey but they were heavy.

When you were able to finally crack them open, you blinked a few times trying to adjust to the lights. You then realized you were perched on a squishy bed under a thick duvet cover. Never in your life had you ever felt such soft sheets. You ran your hand over the white cottons before forcing yourself to sit up. 

The disorientation came to a screeching halt when you noticed the looming dark figure in the corner of the room. 

There lay Crosshair, still as a statue, seemingly asleep upright in a lounge chair. 

You sucked in a breath going entirely still. You were suddenly afraid your movements would wake him. 

You couldn’t remember much, but all you knew was that you needed to get the hell out of here… where ever here is…

Slowly, you shimmied your legs out from under the duvet before hopping down onto the plushest carpet you’d ever felt. You realized you were in nothing but a silk slip as your bare legs were now exposed to the comfortable air. Nothing about this was making any sense, what the hell is this place?

You crept forwards keeping your feet light and a concentrated eye on Crosshair’s form. He hadn’t moved one bit as you crossed the massive bedroom. 

Just as you were about to open the door…

“Omega.” His voice made you freeze in place. 

He still hadn’t moved, nor opened his eyes. You could hear your heart beating in your ears feeling like a little prey animal under his predatory aura. 

“Go back to bed.” He said lowly. 

You remained frozen trying to weigh your options. Run and pray, or comply and wait. Neither were good. And this was Crosshair, he was abnormally agile like his brothers. He’d snatch you up like a nexu. 

When he realized you weren’t going to listen, he opened his eyes without moving a muscle. You felt yourself bite back a whimper as fear suddenly started to ebb its way into your nervous system. 

You watched him stretch as he stood up loosing up the tight muscles from sleeping in that padded chair. 

You backed up a step determined to run if he made any sudden movements. You also realized he wasn’t in his military kit either, he was wearing a loose black t-shirt and a pair of matching joggers. His feet were bare too. You hadn’t ever really seen him like this outside of your apartment. You suddenly began to wonder if you were back on Coruscant? 

Well, this was certainly no apartment of yours… 

“You need to rest omega.” He very slowly approached you. 

You shook your head starring to feel like a disobedient child the way he was scowling at you. 

“Y/N.” He snarled, “Wanna do it the hard way? Fine.” In a flash, he lunged at you and you scurried out of the way narrowly dodging his grasp. You screamed running from him as you crossed the room. 

“Omega!” He yelled chasing after you, swiping for your ankle as you jumped across the massive king size bed and took off running on the other side of the room flinging yourself into the adjoining closet before locking the door behind you. He might be significantly taller than you, but you were speedier. 

He growled pounding on the metal trying to figure out a way to open it. You quickly dismantled the locking mechanism giving yourself some time before he came barreling in. 

Your heart was racing as you looked around trying to figure out a way out of this before he inevitably came to retrieve you. 

“Be a good girl and open this fucking door omega.” You heard him from the other side of the door. 

Looking up, you tried finding an air vent or something that could help you but you couldn’t find anything. 

Remembering what Tech always said, you got down on all fours crawling around the clothes in the closet looking for a vent on the floor. When you noticed a difference in the wall, you pushed the clothes back revealing a grated vent. 

“Yes.” You sighed crawling forwards to rip it from the wall. But to your dismay, it seems someone had already thought two steps ahead of you. The vent just led to a smaller one that no human could crawl through. 

You heard the door panel whoosh open and spun around to see Crosshair marching towards you. 

You stood up, ripping the clothes from the rail and started throwing them at him. He just batted them away unbothered by your attempt to stop him. 

“Alpha please!” You whined backing up into the clothes clearly frightened. 

Something in him switched and he stopped in his tracks. Maybe it was the sound of your voice warbling with fright, or how small you looked in the sea of black clothes, but he came to a total stop staring at you. 

You were a lot less intimidating outside of the beskar his brothers adorned you with. You looked too small suddenly, not like the fierce warrior that took out his entire garrison with your rage just a few mere days ago. The owlish eyes that frantically searched for an out, made his skin crawl. You shouldn’t be reacting like this to him… he’s your alpha for kriff sake. 

“Please.” You whispered the beg seeming like you were searching for something in him.

He sighed, “You can’t be up running around yet. You fractured two ribs and your pelvis from the fall.” He was the one now pleading with you, “Please, go back to bed.” 

You took a deep breath trying to read him. Was this a trap? You couldn’t really tell, but you knew he wasn’t lying about your ribs. You could feel the ache with every breath. 

Slowly, you stood inching towards him. He didn’t move a muscle, instead he allowed you to pass him before he followed you out of his closet and into the main sleeping quarters. 

You saw him following you from the corner of your eye as you very tentatively crawled back up onto the bed settling back in the middle like you had beed previously. You kelt on the mattress watching him stand at the foot of the bed crossing his arms. 

He stared at you intensely making your squirm in the silence.

“How did you do it?” He asked sounding pissed. Your heart began to patter. 

You stared at him trying to figure out what the hell he was talking about. 

He narrows his eyes, “The bond.” 

You looked down at your hands fiddling with the sheets, “I was dying. You brothers took me to a planet where force sensitive wolves severed the bond to save me.” 

He remained stoic as ever. It was unsettling.

“I thought you died.” He bit out harshly, “Nearly killed me.” 

You whined quietly with guilt. 

He bit at his lip missing his toothpick, “How are you fine right now? It feels fucking empty in here!” He jabbed a finger into his chest, “it’s torture!” 

You just stared at his chest feeling your heart break for the alpha. You had thought about the kind of pain he might be feeling, those dreams kept you up at night. The others tried to convince you he’d be fine and that he probably didn’t feel much of anything, but you knew deep down it was so much worse. 

His confirmation only made you feel more guilty. You studied his face better in the day light. He was skinnier than you remembered. It had been months running around the galaxy with your pack, while you had bulked up with muscles, your alpha across from you looked like he had been dragged through bantha shit for months on end. Even his hair was longer and mused from sleep. He looked so different.

He sighed seeming exhausted. 

He reached forward to touch your ankle but you flinched drawing your limb closer to yourself. The look in his eyes nearly made you cry on the spot. He looked… horrified? Guilty? Disgusted?

“Omega.” That wasn’t the reaction he wanted from you. He also seemed guilty?

You were about to open your mouth to say something… anything… when the door to the apartments chimed open and a small army of medical droids floated inside. 

He stood upright putting himself between you and the imperial doctor walking inside. The small beta man approached with his glasses and a data pad kind-of resembling Tech. You watched him hesitate in the doorway seeing Crosshair puff out his chest and cross his arms with a raised brow waiting for an explanation. There was no chance this man was stepping one more foot inside this room without Crosshair’s explicit permission.

Clearly, entering an alpha’s bedroom with his omega in bed wasn’t the smartest decision. 

You instantly recognized the uniform which only meant one thing… you were in imperial custody. That also meant that whatever this place was, it was also imperial.

You peeked out from behind Crosshair getting the doctor’s attention he looked at you before looking back at the alpha towering over him. 

You needed to start to devise a plan to get out of here. 

 “I-I uh, I uhm need to get new scans. If t-that’s okay?” The technician stuttered as Crosshair’s aura intimidated the hell out of the poor kid. 

You realized Crosshair had made some kind of reputation within this new empire… and it clearly wasn’t one of rainbows and butterflies.

You smiled suddenly realizing you could definitely use this to your advantage…You were his omega after all. The kid noticed your grin as you suddenly settled back into the thick covers. 

He slightly narrows his eyes watching your mischievous face turn sickly sweet as you opened your mouth to speak, “Alpha?” The tone of your voice was like a soft caress to Crosshair’s ears. You suddenly looked up at him mustering the most nervous look you could. 

When he turned his attention to you, you squirmed uncomfortably making worried eyes at the medical technician. Crosshair’s protectiveness kicked into hyperdrive and he turned back to the beta, “Get out.” 

“B-but!” He tried to explain. 

“Now.” Crosshair stepped forwards making all the droids and the medical tech nervously back out of the room.

You smiled and waved at the technician making the kid sputter as he darted out of the apartment. 

“The next person to walk in here without permission will not walk out, do I make myself clear?” Crosshair growled menacingly, locking the main door behind the kid. 

When he returned you were leaning against the headboard watching him cross the massive bedroom. He gave you a knowing look, like he knew exactly the game you were playing with him. You crossed your arms over your chest pushing up your breasts watching him approach the end of the bed once again. 

“You’re far more manipulative than the last time I had seen you.” He snipped and crossed his arms to match yours. 

You eyed him, “A lot has changed.” 

“Clearly.” He retorted. 

You steeled yourself, “You tried to kill me.” 

He stilled, taking a quick calming breath, “You defied direct orders.” 

“I am your mate Crosshair!” You snarled leaning forwards on the bed unable to keep your voice from raising. 

“Are you?” He narrowed his eyes. 

You took a breath trying to calm the anger raging inside. 

Maybe he didn’t view you as a mate anymore, not after the bond was severed. That thought hadn’t crossed your mind until now.

“Why am I here?” You lifted your chin trying to mimic his coolness. 

“You are, or were, my mate. I serve the empire. You are to remain here with me, as it should be.” He replied coldly. 

“And if we no longer have a bond?” You raised a brow. 

He blinked slowly, “You are to remain here under imperial custody.” 

“What do they want with me? They wouldn’t allow one soldier to send an entire garrison for one measly omega, now would they?” 

“You’re not just some measly omega now are you.” He pointed a finger at you, “You have some explaining to do, cyra’ika.” 

“I don’t have to explain anything.” You growled. 

He scoffed changing the subject, “Where are they?” 

You just stared at him. There’s no way you’d sell out his brothers to the empire. 

“Do they know?” He raised a brow, he was referring to your special designation, “I’d presume so, you begged them to fuck you all the same.” 

You felt your cheeks redden. 

“I bet they kept fucking you too, huh sweetheart?” He leaned forwards placing one hand menacingly on the bed started to crawl closer, “Once they thought I was gone and out of the picture, they had you all to themselves.” The jealousy in his tone was evident. You knew he never liked to share. 

“Did you know? All this time?” He was hovering over your covered legs making your heart race. The last time he looked at you like that, you had your nose pressed to his belly as you had taken him greedily down your throat. 

You felt a sudden rush of heat flow through you at the memory. 

“Know what?” You whispered. 

He smirked, “What you are?” 

“What am I, Crosshair?” You laid back on your back as he hovered over you keeping you pinned to the mattress beneath him. 

He watched you swallow and noticed the unmarred glad still in tact. He smiled wolfishly down at you. He knew what you were, after Tarkin was explained, all the pieces fit together perfectly. However, he couldn’t help but indulge his jealousy, “You’re mine.” 

He reached forwards gently making contact with your gland with his bare hand. Like a taught rubber band, you felt something snap violently into place making the two of you gasp violently and writhe on the mattress as an unbearable current zapped through your entire system like a lightening strike. 

“Kriff!” He grunted trying to keep himself up and not crush you as he gripped at his sternum. 

You wheezed pushing up at him suddenly feeling claustrophobic. You needed to get away. 

Forcing yourself up from under the covers, you weakly crawled to the side of the bed wobbling on your feet suddenly overcome with the sensation of Crosshair everywhere. 

His scent, his energy, his emotions… it was suffocating. You felt like there were two people inside you as you let out a cry feeling it all come to a freezing halt. 

You clutched the wall trying to catch your breath. You spun around to face him as he hunched over the mattress. He looked at you wildly. 

“The bond.” You breathed. It was intact. 

Then came the burning desire. 

You were suddenly possessed with the need to mate with your alpha.

You crossed the room practically jumping up into the bed crawling to him as he pulled you closer. You sighed feeling his skin against yours once again and you realized just now much you missed his touch. 

You wiggled underneath him yanking at his shirt, pulling it over his head revealing his chest and a spattering of new scars you didn’t recognize. You also didn’t care. All you wanted was him inside you. 

Like he could hear your thoughts, he smirked, nipping at your neck sending your nerves into overdrive. You were flustered everywhere and it was sending aching tingles down into the base of your belly. 

You used your feet to push the waist band of his joggers down revealing the lack of boxers. You smiled and reached greedily for his cock starting to pump him rhythmically. He thrust into your hand as his breathing deepened clearly desperate for your touch. 

“Omega.” He sighed almost silently. 

He pawed at your silk covered tits before frustratingly tearing the straps to get access to you. 

He kissed south, ignoring your squirming as he left your warm palm to lick and suck at your hardening nipples. 

You cried out as he latched on with his warm mouth making you start to drip between your thighs. 

“I’m still mad at you.” You whined pushing your chest up into his mouth. 

“I know.” He tore the slip dress even further until it was fully off your body. His free hand slithered down between your thighs. You parted them eagerly as his fingers traced tight circles around your clit. You mewled grinding your hips into his hand as he worked you open. 

You growled frustratedly wanting more, “Just fuck me Crosshair!”

He withdrew his hand and sat back on his heels before gripping your hips and flipping you over. He brought down a harsh slap against your ass making you scream. 

“So, fucking bossy these days.” He teased rubbing the reddening area, “My vod let you get away with that, huh?”

You pushed your ass up into him ignoring his comments. 

“Who died and made you empress?” He laughed sardonically. 

You huffed as he brought down another harsh slap. You inched up the mattress crying out at the sting. You felt him nudge up behind you, pressing his thighs into yours, then you felt the tip of his cock brush against your dripping cunt teasing you with his warmth. 

“Are you going to behave? Or are you going to be a little brat?” He spat at you pinching your welting ass making you squeal. 

You snarled and whipped your head around to see his evil smirk as he trust forward in one fell swoop wiping that nasty look off your face in an instant. 

You felt like the air was punched from your lungs as he filled you to the absolute brim. The stretch hurt, making you squirm, but Crosshair was merciless. He gripped your hips in a bruisingly tight hold as he pulled you back against his thrusts. You couldn’t recover from his brutal thrusts, all you could do was go limp and take what he was giving you. 

“Give up so soon?” He mocked. 

You could only relax, feeling yourself adjust to his presence while he abused your dripping pussy. 

Your moans reverberated off the walls as his powerful thrusts rocked the king size bed against the wall. You clawed at the mattress trying to find purchase and push back against his onslaught. He chucked at your weak attempt as he leaned forwards to grasp the back of your neck in his hand, pressing you to the mattress keeping you pinned beneath him. 

This felt so wrong but so damn good. Ugh. You mewled as he hit that perfect spot inside you, and suddenly the room was filled with the sound of your squelching cunt and his thighs smacking against yours. You couldn’t believe this was happening right now. It almost felt like a fever dream. 

You reached your hand down between your thighs wanting to cum so badly but Crosshair knocked your hand out of the way to replace it with his own. 

He rubbed soft circles edging you as he continued to thrust. You cried out feeling your climax approach and you squirmed around in his grasp trying to throw yourself over the edge. 

You felt your end coming when Crosshair fully stilled inside you. 

You let out a defeated whine feeling your climax slip further and further away. 

“No!” You cried trying to push his hand out of the way and finish yourself off yourself, but he wouldn’t budge. 

He leaned forwards pressing his mouth to your ear, “Where are they?” 

Your body thrummed with arousal and anxiety… so this was how he was going to torture the information out of you. 

He was seriously going to deny your orgasm until you cracked?

You whined pinching your eyes closed. 

You heard him chuckle as he straightened back up continuing to thrust with a slower pace keeping you just idling on the edge. 

You cried out desperately trying to push yourself back on him but he held you still. 

“You don’t get to cum until you tell me adi’ka.” He smirked. 

“Why?” You sobbed into the mattress. 

He continued to stroke you just right making you shake. Your orgasm was starting to ebb into your field again and he seemed to sense it through the bond bringing himself to stop. You let out a deflated grunt as your joints shook with the need for release. 

“Please Crosshair!” You begged. 

He remained stoically still. 

You felt tears pooling in your eyes, “Please let me cum alpha! Please!” You were on the brink of insanity. 

“You know the rules sweetheart.” He reminded petting the raised welt of his hand on your ass, “Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll give you as many orgasms as you can take.” He lightly toyed with your clit making you shudder.

You sniffled gripping into the covers. 

“I can feel you resisting.” He sounded curious, “I can feel it in the bond. Poor thing, you want to cum so badly don’t you little one?

You huffed trying to gather yourself. 

“I know you’re a stubborn one.” He smiled nipping at your shoulder, “Good thing I’m stubborn too.” 

You were karked. You were karked because you knew he wasn’t going to like your answer regardless. 

“Please.” You whispered rubbing your face into the bed. 

“Tell me little one, and I’ll make you cum.” He promised. 

“You won’t like my answer.” You whined clenching around his hardness. He rewarded you with a little slow thrust trying to egg you on. 

You sighed, “I don’t know where they are.” 

He hummed speeding up his thrusts slightly giving you a small taste of relief. 

“You know them alpha, they’re never anywhere too long.” You cried feeling him start to rub your under stimulated clit, “T-They were taking mercenary jobs for money. We were never anywhere longer than a day or two at most!” 

“Why were you on Bracca?” He started to rub faster making you moan. 

You stuttered, “T-the chips.” You sighed as he picked up this thrusts, “Wrecker’s chip was hurting him and I took them all out.” 

“That doesn’t answer my question.” He slowed and you whined.

“I needed real surgical equipment. The old republic ships all had them!” You admitted. You were careful to leave Rex out of this. There was no reason for the empire to know he was alive and rescuing clone prisoners. 

“Good girl.” He praised bringing his pace back up to the brutal pace you craved, “Now, was that so hard?” He couldn’t help but tease you. 

You just groaned finally feeling your climax approach as he rewarded you for your confession. His skilled fingers brought you to the edge and swiftly threw you over and you came with a deafening scream. It was so powerful your entire body shuddered and convulsed as his thrusts got a little sloppy too before he came with a grunt. 

He continued thrusting through his orgasm until he couldn’t take the stimulation anymore and pulled out watching as your cunt fluttered and his spend oozed out of you in creamy droplets. He watched mesmerized as you collapsed onto the bed totally worn out. The edging had been rough on you, and he realized he probably should have been a little softer on you since you were supposed to be in recovery. 

He tried his best to catch his breath as he slid off the bed to hunt down a wash cloth. He came back to clean you up and then himself before he disappeared into the bathroom again. You curled up on your side pulling the sheets over you trying to still come down from your high. Your brain was laden with pleasure as you felt yourself drift off into peaceful sleep. 

You sighed, escaping Crosshair and this place would have to come later. 

These next few chapters are going to be fucked ngl, dirty Crosshair smut to come, and angstttttt

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Taglist: @substantial-exposure

@rains-on-kamino

@minimissmoo

@z-and-the-batboys

@aynavaano

@9902sgirl

@sideofhorny

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ALSO IF ANYONE WANTS TO BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST PLEASE COMMENT BELOW, I KEEP LOOSING YALL IN MY ACTIVITY BAR LOL MY BAD

[efingcod]

Has to Be Enough

Frank Woods x CoD Bell

18+ only

p in v sex, public sex

Author's note: I went to share this with someone and realized I never officially posted it on tumblr. Just the ao3 link. Anyway here you go!

Bell blew smoke out the open window and checked her watch.


Almost time now.


The crumple of paper Mason passed to her had said 2100 and below that jailbreak. But no indication of how exactly they planned on getting her out of her apartment under the watchful eyes of Adler.

She leaned against the window frame scanning the streets below for any sign of them. Bell bent one leg over the other, restlessly shaking one foot.

A noise from the alley just under her window drew her attention. A familiar looking van was just backing up to her building. Placing her cigarette between her teeth, Bell closed the top window, then opened the bottom.

Woods stepped out of the van and looked up at her, giving her a small wave. She returned the gesture. Tucking her dress under her, she stuck one leg out the window, then the other, and sat on the sill. Bracing her heels on a small ledge just below the window she leaned forward to judge the distance between her window and the van. It wasn’t too far of a jump. She gripped the bottom of the window, pulling it closed as much as she could while she shimmied forward.

Then she jumped, landing on the roof of the van with a dull metal thud. She was glad she decided to wear boots, even if they did look a little odd with the dress.
Woods walked around the van so he was standing just under her.

“Bell in a dress never thought I’d see the day.”

“Oh shut up,” Bell said, but still grinned at his teasing. She hopped down. For a moment it looked as if he was going to move to catch her but quickly realized she didn’t want or need his help.

“Come on let’s go,” Woods said. 
Bell moved to follow, but not before glancing up at her apartment window. It was as if she expected to see Adler there, staring down at them disapprovingly. But the window was empty. And so she turned her attention to Woods.

“So, where are we going?”

Woods slid the side door open for her.

“Some bar Mason has been wanting to go to.”

He gestured to the jumpseat just across from the door.


“Bell,” Mason greeted her from the driver’s seat. He turned around to look at her.

“Hey, you look nice.”

“Thanks, Mason.”

She mock glared at Woods through the window as he slammed the van door shut. He gave her a look back before hopping into the passenger seat. Mason narrowed his eyes at his friend.

“What?!”

“Nothing.”

“Ok, can we go then?”

They took their seats at a table just overlooking the dance floor.

“Is this a bar or a nightclub?” Bell asked, craning her neck to look at the dancers.

“A bit of both,” Mason said, “What do you want to drink?”

Bell shrugged. “I guess I’ll have whatever you’re having.”


Woods put a hand up and said, “No, no, you’re gonna have a beer.”

Mason chuckled, “Fine beers all around.”

He lightly slapped the table with the his palm and stood up, heading towards the bar.

When he was out of sight Bell looked at Woods questioningly.


“Ordering for me now?”

They spend one night together, and suddenly he’s mister overprotective?

“Look,” Woods said, he placed his hands on the table and leaned in, speaking in a low voice, “Mason is great. He always wants to make sure everyone’s having fun. But he tends to order drinks on the heavy side. So just stick with beer, ok?”

“You think I can’t handle a strong drink, Frank Woods?”

Bell smirked. She propped her elbow up on the table and placed her hand on her chin. She too leaned forward, breaching the distance between them. Their faces were close. She angled her body to face him, her knees almost touching his under the table.

“I’m not talking about an ordinary strong drink. Listen, I’ve been to parties at his house before-” Woods stopped taking. He pulled away and looked up. Bell lifted her head and followed Woods’ gaze.

Mason was walking up to the table, holding beers by their necks between his fingers. He placed one bottle in front of Bell, then Woods, and finally took a swig from his own bottle and sat down. He definitely had seen them talking closely. Bell wasn’t sure if he knew anything, Woods didn’t seem like the type to kiss and tell, but the two of them did share an apartment. It would be hard for him to miss Woods being gone all night.

“What did you end up naked in a ditch somewhere?” Bell asked, hoping that this would avoid any comments from Mason about how close they just were and how quickly Woods broke away.

Woods pulled his gaze away from Mason to look at her. He opened his mouth to answer, but before he could Mason was filling in the blanks.

“It wasn’t exactly a ditch, and he wasn’t exactly naked.” Mason said, “You’re so dramatic, Frank.”

Mason clinked the neck of his beer against Bell’s and then Woods’ in succession.

Bell’s grin widened.

“I want to hear this story.”

“Not a chance,” Woods said.

Mason chuckled and shook his head. Then he gestured over his shoulder.

“Hey Bell, you want to go cut a rug? Ditch this old man?”

“Cut a- What?”

“Cut a rug?” Woods said disdainfully. He pointed at himself. “And you’re calling me old?”

Mason rolled his eyes and ignored him.

“Dance, Bell.”

“Oh, I don’t-” Bell said putting her hands up in protest.

Woods nudged her knee under the table taking her by surprise.

“You should have fun. Go on.”

Mason stood up and offered his hand to her.

“Come on Bell. You just follow my lead. Don’t worry.”

“Ok fine.” She relented and took his hand.

As they were leaving the table, Bell glanced over her shoulder at Woods.
He appeared to be studying his beer intently. She thought he looked a little sad, but decided it was a trick of the lighting. At that moment, he looked up, meeting her gaze, and gave her a slight smile. She would have returned the smile, but Mason was already pulling her on the dance floor, and she lost sight of him through the crowd.

Mason had been following her gaze. He might still have been able to see Woods over the crowd.

“He’ll be all right,” He reassured her, “He doesn’t dance.” He put his hand on her back and guided her.

He swayed with her as they waited for a new song to start.

“This is an easy one. Just mirror me. You’ll be fine. I promise I won’t pull any crazy moves on you.”

“Hah, ok.”

They danced to a few songs. All the while Mason covertly gave her a few pointers. Except for the occasional misstep here and there, she was able to follow his lead pretty well. Bell was even surprised to find herself having fun.

The song changed, instead of the upbeat rhythm it was smooth, melodic.

“Uh-oh, slow song.”

Mason winked at her as the music changed.

“If you want to go back, it’s ok.”

“No, this is-‘ Bell admitted, “I think I’m enjoying myself.”

“Well, as long as you think so,” Mason said as he pulled her in, “You’re ok with this, right?”

“Yes, it’s fine. I’ve at least done this kind of dancing before.”

They both chuckled at that. They slow danced in silence for some time. It was a nice song and it was a nice break from the high energy dancing they had been doing.

“Thanks for dancing with me, Bell. I- My wife and I usually go out dancing. I was missing it.” He paused, “Well, I was missing her, really. The dancing helps.”

“You can’t wait to get back home, huh?”

Mason sighed, “Yeah. This job- I love what I do. But I hate how much it takes me away from her and our son.”

“You have a son?” Bell asked.

She didn’t know that about him. She wasn’t even sure she was aware he was married. People were so cautious on the job. They could work together, fight together, risk death together, and you still might not know them. Of course it made sense. They were being protective of their home lives. You could never be too careful.

“David. He’s two years old- and he’s perfect. I’ve missed out on so much. And I know it’s hard for her to have to be alone raising him.”

He glanced down at her, giving her an apologetic look.

“Sorry, Bell. This isn’t exactly a fun conversation for a night out.”

Bell shook her head and said “No, it’s ok. I’m glad to be out. And I like hearing about your family.”

After a moment Mason asked, “What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Your family. You have anyone?”

“Oh,” She paused, “No, no one. It’s just me. My family-”

Suddenly, everything went white. Her grip on Mason’s arm tightened. She couldn’t see. Bell opened her mouth to cry out, but as quick as it was gone her vision was back.

“Are you ok?”

Mason grabbed one of her shoulders to help steady her. Bell met his gaze, tears brimmed her eyes, he was frowning, his brows knitted together with concern. She loosened her grip on his arm and took in a deep breath.

“Yeah, I’m ok. Sorry. I think I just lost my footing there. Trying to do too much.”

The song ended, and they parted.

“Hey, you want to take a break? Let’s get another beer and head back to the table,” Mason offered as he thumbed towards their table somewhere behind him. She nodded. Through a gap in the crowd Bell could see the table, but Woods was gone. She told Mason this.


“He probably went to get some fresh air. Or-” He started but he stopped himself mid-thought, “Nevermind.”


“What?”

“Nothing. Really. Come on. I’ll get you another beer.”

He lead Bell back to the table, giving her a lingering look of concern before heading back to the bar. Alone at the table, Bell wondered what Mason had been about to say. Though she had a feeling. It was obvious wasn’t it? They were at a bar. But the idea that Woods might be-

Bell scanned the table. She noted that Woods had placed a coaster over his half-full beer. And she let out a soft sigh of relief. He really must have been getting air.


Did it actually matter?


If he wanted to leave, if he went home with someone, it was none of her business. Even though she had just- they had just- Hadn’t she set up the boundaries the other night anyway? It was casual. She didn’t have time for anything else.

Besides, she wasn’t the one he was interested in.


Mason came back to the table and set a fresh beer in front of her. Then he took a seat across from her. She thanked him and once again, they tapped the necks of their bottles against each other with a clink.


They both leaned back, still coming down from the adrenaline rush from dancing. Bell took the moment to silently observe the other bar patrons.


It was then that she realized Mason had his eye on her. He was giving her a curious look, like he was thinking something over.

Placing his beer back on the table he leaned forward and said, “He’s never going to make the first move, you know.”

Bell’s eyes widened briefly, at his words but she quickly pulled herself together.

“What did you say?”

Mason took a sip of his beer. It appeared that he was collecting his thoughts.

“You like Frank,” He said matter-of-factly and pointing his beer at her.

Her heart hammered in her ears. Bell set her jaw and just stared at Mason. He knew. She couldn’t deny it.

could he be so sure of this and seemingly unaware of how Woods felt?


Mason must have taken her silence as confirmation because he continued, “Bell, if you want something with him- more than physical- you’re going to have to make the first move.”

She gave him another look and he put his hands up.

“I’m not saying he said anything to me. I doubt he even knows you’re interested.”

Bell could feel herself getting angry. She gripped her beer bottle and picked at the edge of the label with her thumb.

How could he sit there across from her, him of all people, and talk to her like this?

“Why do you care what I want?” She asked, trying to keep her voice even.

Her annoyance was unreasonable. She knew it. Mason was just looking out, probably not for her. They didn’t know each other well enough for that. Maybe for Woods? Would they be having this kind of conversation if it wasn’t about Woods?

She studied his face.

Why did you get married, Mason?


She wanted to ask him. Throw it in his face. She wanted to know how he could do it when-


“Bell, this job is hard,” Mason continued unaware of the irritation bubbling up in her, “It’s easy to distance yourself from people. It’s easy to tell yourself that you don’t want things: relationships, family, kids-”

Bell could feel the warmth rising on her face. Anger? Embarrassment? Both. What gave him the right? What did he want from her? To get his old buddy to settle down?

He didn’t know her life, her situation. He knew nothing about her.


Well, Mason, let me slap the smile off your face because your old buddy is in l-

Mason was still talking, but his voice was muffled. Drowned out by a ringing in her ears.

What exactly was her situation? Bell furrowed her brow, she was looking at Mason, but her gaze was unfocused. Something was blocking her thoughts like a barricaded door in her mind.

What about my family?

The ringing only got louder as she tried to focus on this thought. Why couldn’t she remember her family?

We’ve got a jo-


Mason pulled her from her thoughts as he placed his hand over hers.


“Hey, Bell?”


She snapped to attention. Her gaze refocused. She snatched her hand away from him. Pushing away from the table, she grabbed her jacket and stood up.

“Bell, I’m sorry. I crossed a line.” Mason moved to stand.

Bell shook her head and held her hands out to stop him. “No, no, I just- I’m ok. I’ll be right back.”

She thought about heading towards the bathroom. As she pushed through the crowd, the pulsing music felt oppressive, like a dull hammering in her skull. Auras clouded her vision. There were too many people. Too many smells, the intermingling of smoke, perfume, alcohol, beer, bleach, it all made her feel sick.

Shit, not another fucking migraine.


Get me the fuck out of here.

Bell changed directions, moving towards the nearest exit. The quick turn caused her to lose balance and nearly careen into another patron. The person caught her gently, held her arms, helped her right herself. She gave him a hurried apology, fighting back the urge to vomit, and continued pushing through the crowd.

Bell slammed down on the handlebar of the green exit door and found herself outside in an alley. The fresh March air felt good, but it was still cold. She leaned her shoulder against the wall opposite the door and took a few breaths. The auras were gone, the sickness gone, and the pain of a migraine had thankfully not followed.

Too much to drink, maybe?

No, no way she had only had two beers. If that.

She pulled her jacket tighter around her. Her hands were shaking. Tears brimmed the edges of her eyes, but she couldn’t say why she was crying. She wasn’t feeling sad, just a little shaken up.

Shoving her hands in her jacket pockets, she felt for her cigarettes and a lighter. It was a challenge to light one with her uncooperative hands. But eventually, the flame caught, and she took that first blessed drag. Closing her eyes, she smoked, taking in the sound of the music coming through the closed door. Bell let the tears roll down her cheeks, not bothering to wipe them away. She trembled involuntarily from the cold and she cursed herself for not bringing a warmer jacket.

The exit door creaked open and slammed shut. Bell turned her face towards the wall and brushed the tears away, before looking to see who had joined her.
Opening her eyes, she was expecting maybe an exhausted bartender who had stepped away for a moment for a smoke. Instead, there was Woods. He leaned on the wall opposite of hers and lit a cigarette. His blue eyes were trained on her. They just looked at each other for a moment.

Then Woods took a few steps forward.

“You bumped into me back there.” He pointed behind him with his cigarette hand.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that was you.”

“Alex is worried about you.” Woods continued, “He thinks he might have pissed you off.” He chuckled at this.

“I told him I’d come check on you. You ok?”

“Headache. Needed some air.” Her reply was quick.

“Oh yeah, so you needed some air and thought you’d have a smoke?” He chuckled again.

She said nothing.

“Bell.”

He reached out to her and touched her cheek. He was so warm, and yet it made the rest of her body shiver uncontrollably.

Bell dropped her cigarette and put it out with her toe. Woods ran his hand through her hair and pulled her into his chest. He wrapped his navy blue bomber jacket around her, and she relented, placing her arms around him under the coat. She had thought before that he was like a furnace. Always running warm. Right now she needed it.

They stood there like that for a few minutes. Woods continued to comb his fingers through her hair. It felt good to be close to him. She felt soothed by his heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest. Here he was taking care of her again.

He must have thought she was a mess. Bell sighed heavily into his chest. She buried her cold nose and cheeks in the soft flannel shirt he was wearing. He smelled like cologne, smoke, and even a bit like laundry detergent.

She looked up at him, and he down at her.

“Are you really ok?” He asked again. He gently pushed her bangs away from her forehead with his thumb.

“Yeah. I did just need some air. I’m ok.”

Bell placed her hands on either side of his face. Then she stood on her toes and gently pulled his face towards her, encouraging him to duck his head down. To kiss her.

Why this man? Why now? And when he’s clearly so in love with someone else. Is that why? Is it because he’s not available?

Their lips met.

It doesn’t matter. If this is how it is, that’s how it will have to be.


Two lonely people finding solace in each other.


His lips felt warm, consuming. They were rough too, but he was rough. It was just him. how he was.

Woods’ beard just lightly brushed against her chin. His mustache touched her lip, the bristly hairs lighting up her already sensitive skin. Bell shivered again as it sent a thrill through her.

He was still holding his jacket around her and he pulled her in closer. Bell moved her hands back under his coat, and they traveled down under the waistband of his jeans. She worked her hands between his skin and his boxers, running them over his ass. She kissed him deeply as her nails grazed his skin. He gasped into the kiss and grinned. She moved a hand under his clothes, over his hip, and down. Allowing her fingers to dance over his pubic hair before trailing them down his cock. She gripped him firmly.

Frank- he was Frank now, pulled out of the kiss gasping and placed his forehead on hers. His breath was warm, and he panted as she moved her hand up and down his shaft. Placing her other hand back on his face, she traced a soft finger over his lower lip. Her thumb brushed a section of his beard where a few stray white hairs stood out against the black. He closed his eyes at her touch.

Bell removed her hand from his pants and unbuckled his belt, then unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. Slipping her fingers under the elastic of his boxers, she pulled his cock free. She continued to pump her hand along his shaft. He kissed her and dropped his hands down. Gathering up her skirt, he slipped them underneath. He roughly pulled at her tights, tearing them.

“Shit. Sorry.” He breathed.

“Tear them off me.” Her lips brushed against his as she said it.

Frank began winding the fabric around his hands, widening the rip. He pulled his hands forward around her hips, ripping the nylon away from the waistband as he moved. Bell braced her back against the wall as he tore the rest of the fabric away from her legs. They both watched as it slipped from his hands to the ground.

“Frank.”

Their eyes met—a pause.

“Frank.” She said again, just above a whisper, ”Fuck me.”

Once again, he slipped his hands under her dress. Frank ran them over her ass and in one easy motion, he lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles together. Bell draped an arm across his shoulders, holding their bodies close together.

She placed a hand between them and moved her underwear to the side, then directed his cock to her with her hand. Slowly he helped her slip onto him. Her face flushed as he entered her. Tiny sparks fired along her nerve endings. She softly moaned into his ear. He held her up firmly as she rolled her hips, grinding into him. They kissed again, and she pressed her hips forward, brushing her clit against him. She whined into his mouth.

He held her ass and began slowly thrusting up into her. Her hand gripped the hair on the back of his head, and she buried her lips in his neck. She allowed a few soft whimpers to escape there into his skin.

Taking this as a sign, he picked up the pace, and he grunted into her ear. Grasping at his shirt with her other hand, she twisted it and let out a sob into his collarbone as he repeatedly sent waves of pleasure through her. She arched her back, putting them both a little off-balance as her back hit the wall.

“Ok, Bell?” Frank asked between breaths.

“Uh-huh.”

Her naked thighs shook as he took advantage of the new position and fucked her relentlessly. She whined, louder than intended, and slapped a hand over her mouth, gasping into it.

No need to let the whole block know what they were up to.

Anchoring her elbow into Frank’s shoulder, she tightened her grip on his hair. He grunted but did not stop. She felt heat rise up under her skin. Her body tensed and ached with anticipation.

“Frank-“ She moved her hand from her mouth to his shoulder pulling him into her, pulling their bodies together.

“Please-“ She gasped. It was all she could manage.

Her legs clenched around his waist. Body trembling, she panted through the release.

Frank gripped her ass and continued fucking her through the orgasm. Even though her body ached, she was glad things didn’t have to end just yet.
She could feel herself building up to another orgasm. Her muscles tightened around his cock. He groaned. Frank's forehead was beaded with sweat. Bell softly panted out moans as he brought her to climax again.

Then he gritted out a groan and came inside her.

She nearly melted into him, exhausted. They held each other for a moment.


“Oh fuck,” She gasped into him. She gripped his shirt.

Frank smiled and kissed her softly on the lips. Then slowly, he allowed her to drop her legs, one at a time, then eased her to the ground.

She reached under her skirt to slip her underwear back into place as he buttoned his pants.

His arms wrapped around her. And he kissed her again. Bell held on to him tight, but the moment was quickly slipping away from them.

“Want to go back inside?” He asked, gesturing behind him.

Bell shook her head but still held onto him.

“No, I think I’m going to go home.” She said to his chest.

“Oh, I’ll get Al-“

Dropping her hands, she took a step back.

“I think I’ll walk. It’s not that far.”

“Bell,” His eyes traveled over her face, his brows knitted with concern,”Is there- is something wrong? You can tell me.” He stepped towards her.

No, I can’t.

“No, I’m ok I just feel like walking.”

“At night? By yourself? I can’t-“

“I’ll be fine. You know I’ll be fine. Besides, you’ve seen me take on tougher customers than anyone we’d find on these streets.”

He looked doubtful.

“Really. I’ll be ok. Tell Mason thanks and that I’m not upset with him. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She gave him a small smile that he did not return.

Then she turned and walked out of the alley before he could protest again.

He watched her go.

Bell stepped out into the street and started the walk home. She sighed.

This was enough. It would have to be enough.

I didn't ask if I could tag my taglist in smut fics, so I'm not tagging anyone! But if you're ok with it just let me know (must be 18+ of course)

[ronearoundblindly]

Warning Signs

um, I've had a miserable day, so I wrote angst that absolutely no one asked for. Partly hurt/comfort, too. Totally unedited. No descriptions of injury. Just feels and sweet, protective Steve. WC 1.7k

Summary: Your first bad mission shows Steve how you handle tragedy.

Silence.

The quinjet is flooded with it, thick and suffocating. You'd never know there were eight living souls on board.

Plus two bodies.

Steve's worked with everyone around (alive or dead) for a long time, but not you. He watches you follow the pattern of everyone else's grief. As much as he hates to be dismissive, this is standard stuff for the team.

If he had to guess, he's looking at the numb phase. They'll touch down at the base and go through the motions. You'll make it to your quarters, take an absurdly long shower, possibly have a meltdown, maybe blow off steam at the gym, and emerge 'feeling better.'

It won't actually be better. It doesn't actually get easier. He knows that very, very well.

He hears a sniffle and starts, thinking it's you, but in fact, Sam's broken first. That's not a bad sign; it's actually good. Sam Wilson likely broke on purpose, to set an example, to show it's okay to not feel okay, to begin the mourning properly so that you all can heal. He's a good man that way.

Sam wipes his eyes. He makes no moves to step away for privacy.

Your face is blank as you stand from your jumpseat. Steve watches with fascination while you gather bottles of water and the med kit. You make rounds to everyone, completely expressionless. You look over every person for injuries, cleaning every single cut before moving to the next. You walk a tight circle around him and, seeing no damage, step back without a word, handing him his water like a prize lolly at a doctor's visit.

Finally, you go to Sam, and he obediently stands to be inspected, holding out his wrist and forearm crusted in blood.

Arms clamp around him. Your hug is brutal, strong, and a push that sends Sam over the edge of 'example' into the deep end of reality. One by one, each member aboard breaks. Steve's never seen anything like it. They are all close. They are all comfortable enough to see each other and be seen by each other this way, but not around you.

Not yet, Steve would have thought, but he takes a seat and buries his face in his hands, too. He lets himself drown for a few minutes.

Collectively, the flood of emotion drains away, and it's a shocking difference. By no means has everyone healed, but they've vaulted several of the usual hurdles all on a single ride home.

You're still hugging Sam when Steve collects himself for touchdown. The door lowers, breaking another seal of silence, and you let go.

Steve stiffens.

Your face is still blank, eyes distant and unfocused, cheeks dry.

You let nothing go. Not a single tear. It looks like you drank down the grief of seven war-weary soldiers and are just holding it inside.

You walk out first after letting the med crew come in. Steve can't follow because the nurses fuss over everyone and bombard him with questions. You're gone by the time he looks back down the ramp.

He's only able to come to your door hours later.

You don't answer. F.R.I.D.A.Y. confirms you are inside. Still no answer.

"Dammit," Steve whispers. He doesn't want to have to do this, but since you've never been on a mission like this one with him, he has no standard for how you process.

"Override the door. Authorization gamma four foxtrot."

"Override accepted, Captain," the AI gently announces, and the magnetic latch pops open.

Slowly, Steve's eyes roll over the whole room, trying to remain as calm as possible.

The place is trashed. Mattress flipped against the window, squishing and bending the blinds. Chair upsidedown on the unaligned boxsprings. A dent in the headboard above shattered lamp pieces. Dresser and nightstands face down on the carpet. You're nowhere in sight.

He can hear water running, so he immediately goes to the closed bathroom and knocks, shouting your name.

Nothing happens.

He tries the handle. Locked.

Steve's way past being nice about this. His shoulder cracks through the hollow wood easily, and he bursts in.

There's no steam.

Through the glass doors, he can't see you standing. There's a dark streak above the rim of the tub basin.

He leaps forward, careful not to grab the glass so hard he shatters it (and he knows he can because he's done that twice).

You're curled up, facing away, drenched and letting cold water run all over you, fully clothed.

Steve says your name gently, heart racing now with concern. He uses a grip at the back of your neck to check for a pulse as well as turn you.

Blank. Your face is still devoid of...anything. You're completely catatonic.

He reaches over to turn off the water.

"Okay," he soothes, "okay, sweetheart. It's okay. Here we go."

He slides an arm under your legs, supportive hold still at your neck, and lifts you out of the tub and straight onto his lap, soaking himself and the bathmat.

"Come on, sweetheart. I got ya."

Steve scurries to yank two towels from the rack above him and covers you loosely. Your eyes don't meet his. You don't appear to see him at all.

He's seen all sorts of versions of shell shock--poorly treated and well handled alike--and he knows several things he can do.

But he just waits. He watches you blink and breathe, and that's it. That is the sum total of what your body can muster for who knows how long.

Your hair is half dry and the pads of his fingers are wrinkled by the time you turn your head in towards the crook of his elbow and shut your eyes.

Steve sighs, wrapping the towels a little tighter and adjusting you closer in his hold.

"We're okay. We're going to be okay." He pets strands of hair off of your face. "You did everything right. You did everything you could. We all did."

Steve keeps saying aloud what he thinks to himself after each mission, except when he says it to you, he means it. He's proud of you, and he says it. He promises to take care of you, and he will. He keeps talking, slowly rocking back and forth until his own heart has calmed and you're sleeping.

He keeps holding you but stretches out his legs because they've fallen asleep, too. He can't carry you while his lower half tingles painfully. Soon enough though, he's standing, adjusting you to allow him to maneuver past doorways easily.

He can't get any of your clothes from the upended furniture and there's nowhere to lay you down. Steve barely thinks before heading straight to his own room, towels still dangling from you and his arm, but he finally hesitates when his twitching fingers remind him of your wet tac suit.

The whole point was not to take you to the infirmary while you slept, but he can't possibly change you without waking you.

He makes an executive decision. You have to rest, and the best way to get started on a proper rest is to get you comfortable and dry first.

Steve sets you down in his chair, leaving the towels bunched under you as he steps away to find a shirt and shorts for you to wear. He returns to see you awake with heavy eyelids, sitting up but slouching.

The blank face is back, so he asks you to change. You don't move.

He asks you to stand up, and you look down at your feet before pushing up off the chair.

"Can you give me those wet clothes?"

He turns around when you start to unzip the suit, waiting for the squelch of fabric hitting his floor to stop.

Offering the stack of clean things without looking, Steve says, "these are for you."

Nothing happens.

He peeks over his shoulder to find you staring at the wall, and he knows he'll have to do this himself.

T-shirt first, he bunches it open and ready while still turned away.

"Arms up."

He looks only at your hands to align the sleeve, lets it fall and drape to cover as much of you as possible, and then pops your head out. He sweeps away the hair that pushed over your face again.

Next, the shorts.

"Left leg, please. Good. Now the right. Thank you, sweetheart." Steve's kneeling, pulling the elastic wide enough to not drag his thumbs up your legs, but he still grazes the swell of your hips before releasing the band.

"Are you tired? You can sleep some more here."

You look over at the bed, his bed, completely unfazed. You don't even nod. You shuffle over and lay atop the covers, facing in, hands between your tucked-up knees, still staring.

Steve takes that as a win and sets about short tasks to get himself settled as well, checking on you after everyone, eventually laying on the other side of the bed.

Your eyes are closed, so he thinks you've fallen asleep and turns out the lights. He tries not to move around too much and disturb you until you speak.

Your voice is so small, so flat.

"Why them?"

Steve turns back to face you in the dark. "I don't know," he offers as honestly as he can. "I don't know."

Your breathing comes a little heavier for a while. "Why can't I feel anything?"

Tentatively, he lifts a hand to the dip of your waist, hiding his heartbreak deep down in his gut.

"Because you'll feel too much every other day--" his thumb sways back and forth over the worn cotton of his shirt over your skin "--and sometimes you need a break. It's okay. I'm right here."

"What are you gonna do?" The words choke you, laced with fear of having failed in some way so soon. He knows that judgment. He judged himself that way until the day he realized: mourning doesn't make him a better soldier but it does make him a better man.

Steve can give you the same gift. He can give you space to mourn.

"Watch over you, sweetheart," he mutters, "just like I promised."

[Sequel: Yield]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[cabezadeperro]

hi there! 💖 for Cody/Fox if you’re vibing with it

unfortunately i am always vibing with cody/fox (also sorry i don't think this was what you asked for ahdghkhghkdhkgh)

post order 66, fox lives au & purge trooper!cody.

💖 rough kiss / hot and heavy / making out

---

“I thought you were dead.”

The shuttle rattles—they’re leaving atmo. Fox shifts his weight and says nothing. Cody scoffs and shakes his head. He’s still wearing most of his shell: the black plates reflect the red emergency lights, and so do his eyes, shining like twin flames in the dark. His hair is the shortest that Fox has ever seen, buzzed close to the skin, and he looks—sharp. Too thin, all his edges out there for the world to see.

His wrists are shackled together, the heavy handcuffs resting on his lap where he’s buckled to one of the jump seats. He seems perfectly unconcerned about his situation, and Fox can’t quite decide if it’s real or just for show. 

“I know,” he finally says. “It was on purpose.”

Cody blinks. Fox wonders: did he grieve? Did Cody grieve for him? The chip allows it—that’s not what it’s for. Grief isn’t useful.

“How?”

Fox shrugs. “Many people died in the last few days of the war,” he points out. 

“But not you,” Cody says. He sounds thoughtful. He’s not looking at Fox but at his own hands. 

The shuttle’s getting ready to jump. It’s an old model, with a boring transponder code. It has a crappy hyperdrive, a tiny fresher and a couple pull-down cots folded over the seats. The hold is full—mostly junk. Trinkets. Fox will find somewhere to sell them after he delivers Cody to the Rebellion.

He doubts he’ll see Cody again. Fox’s not welcome where they are going, and he dislikes spending time among birthers anyway.

Fox looks away. Six hours. These are the last six hours he’ll spend in Cody’s presence, and then he’ll—leave. He’ll leave Cody in his captain’s hands and then he’ll leave forever. 

It’s so strange. A lifetime in each other’s pockets, and then the war, and then this: sharing the relative quiet of a shitty, rattling old shuttle after the end of the world.

“Fox,” Cody says suddenly. Fox blinks and turns to look at him. Cody’s already staring at him: the dim light makes the bruises on his face look deeper, the blood on his chin seem black. “I think I fucking hate you.”

Fox snorts. It hurts, the laughing and the words. He leaves his place to the side, next to the door to the cockpit, and approaches his brother.

“You’re not the only one,” he tells Cody. Cody rolls his eyes, and it makes him look so—young, that for a beat Fox almost forgets himself.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” he replies, and then leans back in his seat, a weird little smile on his face. Half smug smirk, half something else, both off and profoundly familiar.

He looks up at Fox, the lights sliding down his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, legs sprawled. His boot knocks against Fox’s foot, once, twice, then stays.

“You may be the only one,” Fox tells him. 

This is a mistake—Cody’s brilliant and Cody’s ruthless.

Fox leans forward, places his hands on the armrests of Cody’s seat. The shackles clink. They are heavy, cumbersome things. Cody smells of blood and sweat and blaster discharge and melted plastoid. Fox breathes him in: he wants to open his mouth and let it all rest on his tongue, filling his brain.

He still kisses like he used to. Fox feels himself moan into his mouth, Cody biting at his lips and sucking on his tongue, straining against the buckles and the weight of his handcuffs. Fox allows it for long, long seconds—Cody’s breath on his lips and on his chin, the taste of him, the way he sounds.

It takes him longer than Fox expected. He tries to go for Fox’s blaster, Fox steps away, and then it’s back to sleep, Cody’s head lolling against the seat. Fox wipes his wet mouth, still breathing hard, his lips tingling, and puts away the injector. 

His heart is beating hard inside his chest, and he feels—Fox finds he feels worse now. He sits down on the jumpseat next to Cody’s, and when Cody’s head ends up resting on his shoulder he allows it.

I’ll miss you.

Fox leans his cheek on Cody’s shaved head, his growing hair soft against his skin, and closes his eyes.

[fruitcoops]

Slowburn

Fic O'Ween Day 12: Goosebumps, with part five of the firefighter/ EMT AU! Coops, Leo, and Layla belong to @lumosinlove, fest header belong to @noots-fic-fests!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

TW extremely brief mention of bodily fluids (one sentence at the beginning)

Five hours and forty-four minutes. He had been bled on, puked on, grabbed, yelled at, and nearly toppled. His only spare pair of pants was now bound up in a plastic bag. Miracle of miracles, Sirius’ shirt was the only thing that hadn’t been damaged in the miserable afternoon. It made a great undershirt. It would also need to be washed at least four times before he could even dream of returning it.

Layla stared at a spot above his shoulder in the opposite jumpseat. One side of her eyeliner had been completely smudged away; the other, smeared sideways to her temple in a smoky trail.

“Nice job today.”

“Thanks.”

“That was a lot.” Layla nodded mutely. His heart pulled for her, a little bit. Even if their cases had been run-of-the-mill, nearly six hours of back-to-back calls would wear anyone down. He nudged the tip of her shoe with his own. “You’re learning fast. I saw some good work out there.”

“I’m…” She blinked slowly, then shook her head. “Wow, I think I fell asleep sitting up for a minute.”

“It happens.” In time, she’d learn to sleep wherever she could catch it. “When does your shift end?”

“Seven.”

“Almost done, then.”

“Mmm.”

The ambulance went over a bump, rattling the near-empty shelves and bashing Remus’ tailbone against the back ledge. “Sorry!” Leo called through the small window to the cab.

He had mostly given up hope that he’d see Sirius in the next twelve hours. His shift wasn’t over until midnight, and Sirius’ started at six the next morning. If he made time between his dentist appointment and calling his parents, he might be able to stop by in the afternoon, but it would be a stretch if he wanted to get any laundry done. And, Christ, that was a chore he couldn’t delay for another week. He liked those pants. More importantly, he now knew just how much Sirius liked them.

Something stirred in his belly at the thought. Warm hands cupping his ass and sliding over his flanks with astonishing care. Sirius had felt him up enough that he could probably make a Model Magic version of Remus’ body on touch alone—and wasn’t that a thing to picture. Somewhere between rounds two and three, Remus remembered kissing the backs of Sirius’ thighs. Pale skin and dark hair above the bare, sensitive bend of his knees. They slotted so well in his palms. Sirius had looked like glory itself when he peeked over his shoulder to look.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Remus jumped. “What? Nothing. Sorry, nothing, why?”

“You’re all frowny.”

Thank god for that. “Just…the day.”

A vague and reliable excuse. Layla snorted. “Tell me about it.”

There will never be a day when I tell you about this. Remus hoped his laugh didn’t come out too strained. “Seriously.”

They took the next turn a little wider, sending their final two ointment boxes sliding out of place. He fixed them blindly while the city center rolled past through the back windows. Did Sirius still have scratch marks on his upper thighs?

Another bump knocked the thought from his head. “We’re home,” Leo singsonged from the driver’s seat. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the showers, wondering why I chose this life path.”

“Mood,” Layla mumbled.

“I’m also Grubhubbing a sundae, and you can’t stop me.”

One of the last functioning neurons in Remus’ head lit up. “Get me one.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Get your own.”

“I’m your boss.”

“You make more money than me.”

“Yes, let me flaunt my extra fifty cents an hour,” he countered dryly. “Every night, I rub my quarters together, just to flex on you. That beautiful sound of a handful of nickels.”

“…I’ll see what they have.”

“Good rookie.”

He didn’t wait for the ambulance to stop before opening the doors. The familiar ka-chunk of the lock coming free was music to his ears—a sweet, sweet anthem of freedom, the promise of a lukewarm cup of coffee and a maybe-stale donut from the break room.

And Sirius.

Sirius, sitting on one of his packed and labeled inventory bins.

Remus stared.

“Remus?”

“Go ahead,” he said absently. “I’ll catch up.”

Layla hopped out with a groan. Six hours was a long time to be up and down. Remus was sure his feet would ache the same when he stood. If he stood. Sirius’ hair stuck up at the back, like he’d been running his hands through it.

Remus loved when he did that.

He just. He really did like him, quite a lot.

Keep me.

What had he been thinking? Six hours was a long time to wait. He had told Sirius he’d be right back. It was his day off; why hadn’t he left after it was clear Remus wouldn’t return?

He supposed he could ask the same question about that morning. God, could it really only have been a few hours since he felt Sirius’ bare chest against his own? They had practically been spooning with how tight they were tangled in each other when he woke. Remus hardly remembered falling asleep, only aware of the pleasant ache in his muscles and the humming pleasure in his belly. Pure satisfaction. Pure comfort, at having Sirius hold him like more than a friend.

He watched Leo wander off. Sirius didn’t seem to have noticed. He didn’t so much as flinch when Remus stumbled off the rig and beelined for him, not until Remus stopped in front of him, unsure what to say. I want you I like you I’m sorry please kiss me again, I still get goosebumps thinking about the way your mouth tastes with adrenaline.

Sirius blinked up at him, full lips and glossy lashes. His bone structure was fucking criminal. “You’re back,” he said, so soft and sweet and genuinely happy that Remus’ stomach flopped over itself. Sirius stood, tucking his phone into his pocket without a second glance at it. He was just—big. And tall. And gorgeous. Remus now knew precisely how solid his chest was, and how nice it was to kiss. “Did you have a good day?”

Remus stepped forward and planted his face directly into that chest.

“Oh,” Sirius laughed. It vibrated against his forehead; he closed his eyes. Arms came up around him, hands settling at his nape and the small of his back. He knew he smelled awful. Sirius didn’t seem to care as a tentative kiss nestled on the top of his head and melted Remus’ insides out his throbbing feet.

He sighed. Sirius smelled all warm and spicy. Detergent, cologne, or simply the way he was? Remus couldn’t wait to find out. “This is nice.”

“Yeah.” The delight was back. Sirius pushed the breath from his lungs on a squeeze. “Yeah, it is. I like this.”

“I’m gonna kiss you,” Remus mumbled. “Gonna kiss you so good. Just…two seconds.”

“You can kiss me whenever you want.”

“Two seconds.” It was so dark in his new haven. Sirius’ lungs moved calmly, steadily. His heart rate was a little fast, but nothing to worry about. Remus let his ears go foggy and pressed closer, nuzzling into the space between his collarbones.

Sirius kissed the top of his head again, less hesitant this time, before resting his chin there. “Long day?” he asked after several seconds. Remus hummed. “Sounded like you guys didn’t get much of a break.”

“Mhmm.” He turned his head to the side and rubbed his cheek over Sirius’ sternum. He couldn’t count the number of times they had sat together on the couch or at the table or in the window seat, legs intertwined while they worked through their days. Separate snacks at first, then a single bowl to share once they knew each other’s favorites. It had been nice, to have someone there. Someone to talk to, someone to listen, someone who understood.

But this…this was so much better.

Sirius’ thumb stroked a short path along his spine. It zinged all the way into the base of Remus’ skull. “I sweated through your shirt,” he muttered, pushing his head further beneath Sirius’ chin. “After I stole it from you by accident. Sorry. I’ll wash it.”

He felt Sirius’ smile on his temple. “Keep it. Looks better on you.”

“Think I left mine at your place.”

“Guess you’ll just have to come back and get it,” Sirius whispered playfully. Remus couldn’t help a grin, raising his head despite the pounding drowsiness behind his eye—he had barely opened his mouth to retort when there were lips brushing his own, a wordless request. He granted it easily.

This was different than the rushed promise on the ambulance. Different than last night’s smoky, need-fueled passion. He let Sirius lead, tender and questioning, then pushed into it a little more. Have it, he tried to say. Take it all, it’s been yours for a while. The words may not work, but he was willing to bet Sirius would understand anyway. His lower lip was chapped on one side when Remus ran his tongue along the seam, giddy and dizzy with the kiss-buzz of chasteness.

“Hmm.”

That was good. It was all good, if Sirius would keep making noises like that. He brought his hands up to rest on narrow hips (marked with a tiny scar just above his thigh, which Remus was so fucking glad he knew now) and gave a little more, pushed a little harder. Sirius’ hand cupped his jaw and the right side of Remus’ brain powered down.

“Hm—wait, wait.”

His attempt to lick forward into Sirius’ mouth was stymied by sudden distance between them. Not far—he could still pick out each fleck of quicksilver in Sirius’ unfocused eyes—but far enough to be frustrating for the part of him that was enjoying turning his thoughts off. Remus went up on his toes for more, but Sirius pulled away. “What?” he whispered, though they were alone. “Did you—are you mad at me?”

“No,” Sirius said hurriedly. His hands soothed down Remus’ sides in a long drag that sent tingles through each cell. “God, no, I’m trying to—” His cheeks went a touch pink as he glanced around them and coughed lightly. “Uh, I’m trying to calm down.”

“Oh. Oh.”

Remus hadn’t even thought about that. He was pretty sure he was too tired for his body to consider arousal, aside from the inevitable spike of desire for a soft place to land for two to eight hours. Sirius’ mouth was so nice, his body so warm, that it was all too tempting to get lost in it.

Sirius’ tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. Well. Remus supposed he might be able to feel something other than pure exhaustion, if he tried. “What time do you get off?”

“Whenever you want me to,” Remus answered immediately, then felt himself redden at the arch of Sirius’ brows. “Fuck—sorry. Midnight. My shift’s done at midnight.”

The fingertips on his back had become an extraordinary distraction. Sirius looked almost shy, so at odds with the animated boy he knew against this backdrop that Remus wanted to memorize every inch of it. “Can I…” Sirius began, then trailed off as his blush darkened. His thumbs hooked around Remus’ hipbones and paused there, lingering on bare skin. “Can I maybe take you to dinner? Or a diner?”

“At midnight?”

“I know a couple places.”

Remus frowned. “You have work tomorrow.”

Sirius gave a sheepish half-shrug. “We could nap together. Today, I mean. If you want.”

“I smell horrible.”

“You smell fine.”

“I’m soaked in dry sweat.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I—” That was it for excuses. That was all he had. Every defense against Sirius was dust in the wind. He smiled, and stood on his toes again to kiss one scruffy cheek. “Yeah, sounds good. Let me wash my face and grab some water. I’ll meet you in the bunks.”

Sirius’ eyes crinkled, and Remus fell for him all over again. “I’ll be waiting.”

[docholligay]

Souvenir

I like people, I think it would be fair to say. Not even in the way you might describe a social butterfly, or someone who is necessarily good with people,* but in the way that someone loves art. I like listening people, I like watching them, I love hearing about what strangers do with their lives, I love eavesdropping on the little bits of people’s lives that they share into the open air and I learn things, constantly, from this**.  

It’s a bit of an odd trait, I guess, and maybe could even be considered nosy, to look at strangers like this, to chat up the gal on the train to Ely***and find out that she was a translator, she’d worked translating a sailing manual, and isn’t that such an interesting thing for people to do? She offered the opening door, and I walked right through it. I will all the time. Every person I meet gets added to a bank in my mind to draw from, for writing, for experiences, for simply lying awake at 3 am and mulling over in my mind****. 

In an actually fairly rare bit of lacking self-reflection, I had no idea that I constantly did this--it is not a calculated act--until Dani pointed it out to me on this trip, that I often make these little connections with strangers for no reason, and that it possibly makes me a good traveler. I had never thought of this. I suppose it’s true, though, that even when I’m somewhere my grasp of the language is, shall we say, tenuous, I have a very open sort of nature that allows me to find those little points of meeting. A conversation with an employee in Cologne, trying to buy tights, and we both ended up laughing, between my bad German and her slightly better English, and many hand motions, we got it handled! It was a very positive and lovely interaction, and though I knew my German wasn’t up to it, *I* was. That’s a mindset thing. 

I like being this way, I think. Not only do I have these small moments, but I also, to creep out anyone who’s ever hung out with me, sort of memorize my friends. When I’m with them, I catch myself looking so carefully at the way their hair moves, the way they phrase things, how they walk and the exact curve of their jaw. How will I call this person up in my mind, later? I have trouble paying attention to things sometimes because I can’t stop paying attention to things. I am a good mental mapper for this reason, and I mentally map people, as well. I keep them, in a way I’m not sure other people do.*****

I do catch myself wondering if they know they have lives, still, in my head? Does Sylvie from British Airways know I think about her smile from the jumpseat? Does Ian the cabdriver know I still turn over his voice in my head? Will the girl across from me on the train know how she lifted my spirits along with hers as she loved someone? Does anyone ever know the thosuand tiny gifts I receive every day of my life, simply by the decoration they bring to my world? In the novel of my life, the background has so much texture, because of all the wonder of each and every person, even the ones I don’t like, bring to it. I am so grateful for all of them. 

I like people. I hope they continue bringing their gifts to me and little weirdos like me. 

*I think we can all agree that sometimes I am very Not That, and that ‘smoothing things over’ is not necessarily a gift I am given (nor do I cultivate it, let’s assign blame where blame is due here) and I can be brusque and impolitic and annoyingly self-assured in any given situation where I have no fucking clue what I’m doing. 

**Just today I learned that sledding is called sledging in the UK, or at the very least in the North, if this gal’s accent is anything to go by and I’m not sucking at broad identification. I know this because she was talking about having enough snow to do it with someone she clearly loves and misses very much, from the way her face lit up as she was talking to them on the phone, and the way she leaned in toward the table as she made plans to meet up for dinner. I teared up a little bit. I love the moments we see people in connection and joy, some of my favorite little experiences in the world. I still think about the day one of my friends got married and she was walking around like a little piece of popcorn in hot oil, and there was nothing ODD or MAGICAL or WHATEVER about that, except that it was the exact kind of human magic I love, where something or someone gives you such joy that you can’t help but show it. ANYWAY. 

***See: Transit for a full explanation of how we all on the train ended up being, if not friends, foxhole comrades. 

****Upon reading this back, it sounds very negative or like I’m suffering, but I have slept in ‘shifts’ since I was a small child, and lying awake thinking for an hour or two around 3 am doesn’t bother me at all. It gives me a lot of time to imagine Haruka in situations and whatnot. 

*****Poetic as this sounds when I make it sound poetic using the power of making myself sound good writing, it might be fairly argued that my brain would be better served to spend a little less storage space on how often my friend wears a particular sweater and a little more on, oh, remembering a box I’ve been meaning to ship for MOTHERFUCKER I JUST REMEMBERED I HAVE A PRESENT I FORGOT TO GIVE DANI AND BEL IT’S IN MY FUCKING BACKPACK RIGHT NOW (see??? What I mean???) 

[filmnoirsbian]

Nice things from this trip:

Overnighted near where I used to live in New York so my old roommate (and bestie since high school) came over and we had a sleepover in my hotel room.

Had a lovely conversation with a passenger who lived in the same place I did in Germany (about 20 years before me) reminiscing about how much it had changed over the years vs stayed the same (we had the same favorite pizza place!)

Another passenger complimented me and said "it's so nice to see so much compassion."

Another passenger asked where I was from originally and then said "you are just so kind and wonderful."

After a long and stressful day, with still two flights left to go, the captain bought all of us coffees and pastries (and some for the gate agents too, which is rare).

I ran into a flight attendant I hadn't seen in years (we'd bonded over being writers) and we got to catch up and congratulate each other on getting published!

I then immediately ran into my roommate from ground school! And now we have plans to travel someplace together next month.

On my last flight, the girls near my jumpseat were looking at oscars fashion (using the plane wifi) and kept asking my opinions so we spent about 20 mins rating all the outfits.

A passenger brought a bunch of sweets as gifts for the crew:

[dovand]

[ID: a digital painting of Kirk from the original Star Trek films, a middle-aged pale, chubby man with short gray-brown hair. He is wearing a red Admiral’s uniform with the front flap hanging open, showing the white lining. There is a light source behind him, which he is facing away from. He is resting a hand on an empty jumpseat on the Bridge and looks sad. The background is painted simply and in tones of blue. end ID]

every1 say thank u @jingsketch for the excellent brushes & tutorials!!! i cannot recommend All Access enough, i am having so much fun using it >:3

[cityandking]

spark enough to last the winter

branwen + star wars au. 2.6k for hypothermia prompted by @forcekenobi. sabine and middy belong to @snapdragonling. set loosely after this meeting. // angst prompts

Of all the ways to go, it wasn’t the one Branwen would have bet on—though stupidly, on an uninhabited world should probably have been somewhere on the list, given the sort of shit they got into these days. It wasn’t even the worst way to go, objectively speaking. It was only a little inelegant for her taste. She’d have been irate about it if she’d had the energy to spare, but irritation fueled no fires and didn’t help much with the snow or the wet or the smoldering crash pod she’d left three klicks back, dug into the icy crust of one of the planet’s massive oceans.

The cliffs hadn’t looked that far from back there, when it had been the choice between waiting for the pod to sink through the thick sheet of frozen whitecaps to the waters below or find some modicum of shelter among the rocks. Now, three klicks closer to shore, she’d realized that was because the cliffside was so fucking huge that her sense of scale had simply given it up as a bad job and fucked off, much like her rations pouch and the handy little emergency transponder she’d lost down the trough of one of the massive frozen waves.

At least she'd had the good sense to turn it on before it had gone fumbling from her numb hands. Not that it would do much good. Things had fallen apart in a spectacular fashion back on Abregado—as they often tended to do when one mixed good honest business practice with the tight squeeze of Core corruption—and they’d been forced to split and reconvene. Which was fine; the backup plan to get to Eriadu had been straightforward enough, except that the Luckrunner was with Sabine, and Enikö was somewhere in the bowels of the spaceport, and Bran’s clever ploy to hitch a ride with a crew of Barabelian longhaul shippers running the Rimma Trade Route had hit a snag when one of them found her napping in the cargo hold. It was thoughtful of them to have provided an escape pod, of course, and she’d been sure to tell them so after letting loose their cargo of live Gedonian ground weevils and fighting her way through the mess to commandeer the pod on their behalf.

So really, it was her own damn fault she’d ended up on some ice encrusted backwater halfway out of the Mid-Rim, a few hours and a prayer away from freezing to death.

"Suppose you'll say 'I told you so,'" she said to no one, or thought she said anyhow. Her lips were numb and her face stiff, and it was impossible to hear herself think over the howling gale, much less speak. And there wasn't going to be anyone around to say I told you so anyway, because of the uninhabited frozen tundra planet situation.

Staring death in the face was, as it turned out, a fairly bleak and lonely exercise.

She couldn't say how long it was before she reached the cliffs, only that she knew she had to make it, and so she did. Her feet were leaden in her shoes by then, and her hair had soaked through with snow and frozen again, so that it made a sort of ticking, tapping sound when the locks swung together. She'd even worked up something of a sweat, more than a little overheated in the standard-issue emergency parka she'd found under the jumpseat, and the only thing that kept her from taking it off was a sour, spiky voice in the back of her head that sounded remarkably like Sabine, muttering, Don't be an idiot.

"I'm hardly the idiot," Branwen retorted, struggling to catch her breath. The wind howled even worse here, butting up against the rocks and looping back on itself, but there was bare stone too, and when she squinted she could just see a ledge at about the height of her head, sheltered from the worst of it. As good a place to collapse as any.

Sure, snorted the Sabine-voice. That's why you left the nice cozy crash pod to walk across half an ocean.

"I did not. There was the thing, you know, with the." She waved a hand, then thought better of it when her grip slipped a little on the stone wall and she nearly went tumbling down again. Instead she wedged a foot in further and heaved, forcing herself up over the lip of the ledge to sprawl onto her back.

With the what?

"What? Oh. I don't recall." Just breathing hurt, though she couldn't say if that was from the landing or the cold. Pins and needles inside her lungs, throat aching. Cold, probably; she didn't think anything was broken. She blinked up at the cliff, the massive unending spur of craggy, wind-washed rock. It wavered a little above her, and she flinched automatically, but nothing fell, not even a stone.

Don't just lie there, said the Sabine-voice, peevish. You dragged yourself all the way up here, at least use the shelter.

"You've really got a way with words, love." Still, it took her another handful of heartbeats to shiver herself upright and tuck into the crevice she'd been aiming for. With her back to the stone and her knees draw up tight, the wind wasn't nearly so bad. Her head fell back against the cliffside, heavy, and it probably ought to have hurt a bit but she didn't feel much of anything besides the chill.

Well done, said the Sabine-voice. Now what?

What an excellent question. "Can't say."

Excellent plan.

"I don't see you offering suggestions."

Not nodding off, maybe.

Oh. Branwen blinked her eyes open with a mild sort of surprise. She had been a bit dozy, hadn't she? Bad idea, that; she remembered that much from her Academy training. For a moment she fumbled to pinch herself, but she couldn't feel her fingers nor her arm through the layers of cold and standard-issue parka, so that was a bit of a nonstarter. She peered out at the frozen ocean instead.

At least it wasn't storming, not really. The wind was horrible, of course, and the clouds were low and thick, and the snow pattered down in bursts, but everything was mostly just... there. It was even a little beautiful: the white, the silver, the endless ice-capped water as far as the eye could see. Not the worst place to go.

"Suppose I should have held on tighter to that transmitter," she said, mostly to have something to say. "Going to make it mighty difficult to find me."

What happened to believing in our mystical Jedi powers.

"It's hardly magic," Branwen huffed. Her breath puffed up in front of her, but even that was cold. She'd stopped shivering, she noted distantly; likely she ought to have been more troubled by that than she was. "Anyway, I don't think your life sensing bit works if I'm dead."

Maybe you should try a little harder to keep alive then.

"I'll see what I can do."

What she could do wasn't all that much, though. She pulled her arms and legs in tighter and tucked her chin down, bundled as small and warm as she could manage, but it made little difference. Her body was a distant thing, heavy and icy and dragging, and it was monstrously hard to keep her eyes open. The frozen sea danced and dimmed in front of her, and that was only partly her fading vision—it would be night eventually, and the cold would creep in and steal her away into sleep.

"It's a pity, though," she said, mouth pressed against her knee. "I did rather think you'd be with me, at least."

She felt the sigh at her ear, breathless, and Sabine said, Me too.

Bran smiled. It wasn't much of a smile, but she felt it anyway—and a touch of warmth too, somewhere deep in her chest. It was barely anything, a echoing memory of an ember, but in the overwhelming cold, it burned merry and bright.

This time, when her eyes drifted shut, Sabine didn't prod her about it. If she let herself drift, Branwen could almost imagine she really was there—a slight touch against her arm, the feel of someone wrapped around her, keeping her sheltered from the wind and the cold.

"Keep talking," she said, a senseless mumble of wasted breath. "Tell me a story."

That's your job, Sabine grumbled. But then she said, Fine. Once upon a time.

Bran would have laughed if she'd had the energy for it. Instead she only listened to the voice on the wind, carrying words she couldn't hear. Outside it roared and whined, and light flashed, and maybe there would be a storm after all. It didn't matter. She was hardly even cold anymore—only tired, so tired, and full up with Sabine's voice, a thread of warmth spooled up inside her, the last flicker of a dying star. It was a small comfort to have Sabine's presence here at the end, and Sabine's hands on her frozen cheeks, and Sabine's eyes glaring at her, and Sabine's expression twisted up with desperation as she shouted over the wind, "You bloody idiot, wake up!"

"Oh," slurred Branwen, pleased. "You're here after all."

"I'm going to kill you," said Sabine, and then behind her was Enikö too, wasn't that lovely, and a small, bright-eyed woman in a garishly orange jacket, and that was... No, wait. What?

"Oh," said Branwen again, less pleased and more confused, sluggishly trying to put two thoughts together and coming up with six, or perhaps negative one. "Sorry. What's going on?"

"Stop trying to talk," said Sabine, who was not telling her a story nor wrapped around her nor a voice in her head, but a real and solid thing, nose and cheeks pink and eyes dark and sharp as knapped flint. "And keep your damned eyes open. Kid, the medbay—"

"Yes," said Enikö, and his head disappeared, and Branwen tracked him blearily to a familiar bulwark of silver metal parked precariously on the ice, which was even more confusing. What was the Luckrunner doing here?

"This can't possibly be the afterlife."

"Stop talking," Sabine said, sharp with something that must have been exasperation but looked surprisingly like fear. "Just— Let me work."

Bran had no idea what she meant by that, but then came a wash of— She didn't know the word for it. It was the feeling of the jump to lightspeed, and also the shape of her mother's smile, and also the everyday wonder of waking up to Sabine lying next to her. It was the first sip of Corellian brandy and the relief of seeing Enikö step out of the caves on Ilum with a crystal cupped in his palms and the adrenaline rush of a close escape. And it was the world entire, the whole of the galaxy, and also the simple, familiar feeling of Sabine's hands against her face, one with the Force, buoying her.

Branwen stopped talking. There was nothing more she could have said.

It took all three of them to help her down from her craggy ledge—Sabine and Enikö and the bright orange-jacket woman they'd collected along the way. The medbay was ready for her when they got her into the ship, and she was grateful to miss the sting and stink of the bacta when they slid her into the tank, and afterwards she slept long and hard and woke to Sabine at her bedside.

She looked as though she'd fallen asleep, head hug low, except her eyes were open and bright and sharp when Bran met them, and all the clever things she'd meant to say evaporated on her tongue, and in their place Branwen said, "Are you alright?"

"You're asking me?"

Branwen gave her a look, pointed. She looked like she hadn't slept—which was not an unusual look for her, but was more unusual these days. Sabine shook her head and snorted, then shrugged as though heaving off some great weight.

"I heard you," she said, blunt, and made a face that Branwen couldn't read. "Felt you. When you were down there. In the Force."

"Oh. That's... unusual?"

Sabine snorted again, which was a yes. Branwen hummed and sank back against the pillows.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Branwen turned the idea of it over in her head, but she knew little of the Force, and minded its meanings even less. If Sabine said it was strange it was, but it wasn't exactly her strangeness to bother about.

The harried, hunted glint in Sabine's eye, though—

"I'm alright," she said. "It was an impressive rescue operation."

Sabine made another face, a worse one, and Branwen struggled to sit upright. Sabine grumbled at her and helped with the pillows anyway, and Branwen caught her hand before she could pull it away.

"If it's a bad thing, the Force bit—"

"It isn't." She took a deep breath, bracing. "I— It reminded me of— I would prefer not to feel that again."

Branwen took a long, careful breath around the sudden, welling grief. It was a familiar thing by now, and only half hers—but the trouble with loving a Jedi was that it was impossible to only love one of them alone, when they were too tangled in each other to ever be wholly unraveled.

"I'm sorry." She meant it, deeply and fully.

Sabine nodded, and then she said, "It will happen again."

Branwen couldn't deny that. It wasn't just them, after all. It was them and also the deal Branwen had made to a man with a starbird patch on his sleeve that echoed the symbol of the Order, wings raised in flight. The promise to strive for something better than any one of them. That part Branwen wasn't sorry about.

"I'll be more careful."

"No you won't."

"Of course I will. No more solo escape pods."

"If that's your way of warning me next time you'll be exiting a ship without an escape pod—"

"I think they call that disembarking. Most people do it after landing."

"You're not most people."

"How sweet of you to say," Branwen preened, but then she sobered and squeezed Sabine's hand. "Turned out fine, yeah?"

"If you call six hours in a bacta bath fine."

"Could have been worse." Sabine had been in far worse positions, Branwen didn't point out—that was ammunition for another time, not now, not the sliver of tender fear being so cleanly, clearly offered. "A dashing Jedi came to save me."

Sabine didn't roll her eyes, but somehow she perfectly gave off the impression that she could have, and still might. Warmth flashed in Branwen again, a deep and welling and endless thing, spark enough to tide her through a year of winter nights.

"And I supposed Nikö was there too. And— I feel terrible, I didn't catch her name. The orange one. Are we picking up strays again?"

"Hardly we," Sabine said. "The kid made a friend."

Branwen's eyebrows climbed up into her hairline. "Oh?"

"Ask him about it," she said, but her expression was all smugness, which was a delight. And to think, she could have missed this.

"I will. Help me up? I'd die for a cup of caf."

"Please don't," Sabine said, but she eased an arm around Branwen's waist and helped her out of the medbay and into the galley, where Enikö and the orange woman—whose name was Middy, who had helped them off Abregado, who had a familiar sort of keenness about her—waited for them.