#chaos squad my favorite

[ask-chubby-hamilton-hs-au]

~Crowds gather around the halls as everyone was gasping and some chanting the word “fight!” The Frenchman was currently fighting a kid, but why?~

Alexander tried to look above the crowd to see what was happening, but due to his shortness he couldn't.

"Move, i wanna look..!"

[margindoodles2407]

YOU

YOU GET IT

The thing about me is I will, at any point of the day, stop whatever I'm doing to drawl, "Ooooh, meteor shower" in Hevy's voice.

[eobe]

I could NOT RESIST! 🤩✨🎄 Old man Wrecker is born to be SANTA with his rumbling voice and his laughter and his power and AND AND! ♥️🫠

Pabu with Shep‘s delicious food and no ration bars anymore – BIG BELLY STRONGMAN WRECKER!

Thank you so much for inspiring me, dear @teesy738 with this post! Absolutely agreed! ✨🤩🎄

🎄♥️ MERRY CHRISTMAS TO EVERYONE! ♥️🎄

Taglist: @eclec-tech @bixlasagna @returnofthepineapple @sunshinesdaydream @covert1ntrovert @general-ida-raven @vrycurious @dystopicjumpsuit @chaicilatte @groguandthebadbatch @justanotherdikutsimp @ladylucksrogue @spaceyjessa @morerandombullshit

My Chaos Squad vode ✨ @ghostymarni @wings-and-beskargam @lonewolflupe

My favorite grumpy 🧁 @foxwithadarkside 🫶

My Fox Fun Folks 🦊 get Christmas Wrecker‘ed: @thora-sniper @feral-ferrule @nika6q

People, who jump through my mind: @blackseafoam @astral-veil @hurtmitcrab @sued134 @returnofthepineapple @crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf @last-of-cheese @clonethirstingisreal @ireadwithmyears @the-rain-on-kamino @littletroggo @techhasmjolnir @here-comes-the-moose @jetii @moonlightwarriorqueen @peggy7447 @kark-trooper-echo @superiorsniper @xylionet @cloneflo99 @tardisgirl42 @rendomski @robotsandramblings @chiliger @archivewriter1ont @the-bi-space-ace @captn-trex @yunyun160

And everyone who sees this! Big Santa Wrecker hugs! 🎅🏽✨♥️

[chiyuuchu]

sharing is caring <3 (4th August 2024)

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Prompt! Bakugou and Y/n gets their laundry mixed up

It was a Friday night, and the Bakugou Squad—comprising Bakugou, Y/N, Kaminari, Kirishima, Mina, Jirou, and Sero—had decided to hang out in Y/N’s room for some much-needed relaxation after a tough week. Y/N had texted everyone earlier, inviting them over for snacks, movies, and some casual chatting.

As everyone gathered, the room quickly filled with laughter and conversation. Kirishima and Kaminari were arguing over which movie to watch, while Mina and Jirou were busy setting up a makeshift snack bar on the floor. Sero was lounging on a beanbag, already munching on some chips.

Bakugou, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, was watching the chaos unfold with a small, almost hidden smile. He enjoyed these moments with his friends, though he would never openly admit it.

Just as the debate over movies reached its peak, the door swung open, and Y/N walked in. Bakugou’s eyes widened when he saw her. She was wearing one of his old t-shirts, slightly oversized on her smaller frame. His brain short-circuited for a moment, taking in the sight.

“Where the hell did you get that shirt?!” Bakugou barked, his face turning an interesting shade of red.

Y/N looked down at herself, then back up at Bakugou with a casual smile. “Oh, this? I found it in my laundry. Must have mixed up with my clothes. I can give it back if you want.”

Bakugou’s mind was racing. Inside, he was definitely simping, though his expression showed only flustered annoyance. “That’s mine, you idiot! How could you not notice?”

Y/N giggled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Relax, Bakugou. I’ll give it back. It’s just a shirt.”

Mina, catching the interaction, burst into laughter. “Looks like Bakugou’s got a favorite shirt thief!”

Jirou smirked, nudging Y/N. “Nice fashion choice, though. It suits you.”

Kirishima, ever the supportive friend, added, “Yeah, looks cool on you, Y/N.”

Sero chimed in with a grin, “I’m just glad Bakugou isn’t blowing up over this... yet.”

Bakugou growled in frustration, his glare now directed at his friends. “Shut up, all of you!”

Kaminari, trying to diffuse the situation, waved his hands. “Alright, alright, let’s calm down. It’s just a shirt. Let’s get back to the movie.”

Y/N smiled at Bakugou, who was still fuming but trying to hide his flustered state. “Seriously, Bakugou, I’ll wash it and give it back. No big deal.”

He huffed, crossing his arms. “Fine. Just… don’t make it a habit.”

As the night went on, everyone settled into their usual banter and activities. Bakugou, despite his earlier outburst, couldn’t help but steal glances at Y/N. She looked so comfortable in his shirt, and a part of him couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of pride seeing her in it.

The following week, Bakugou had been looking for his favorite pair of sweatpants. After checking his room and the laundry room with no luck, he decided to ask Y/N if she had seen them. He stomped over to her room, knocking firmly before entering.

“Hey, Y/N, have you seen my—” Bakugou started, but his words trailed off when he saw her. Y/N was lounging on her bean bag, comfortably reading a book, wearing his sweatpants.

Bakugou’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you serious?!” he yelled, making Y/N jump a little.

She looked up at him, blinking innocently. “Oh, hey, Bakugou. What’s up?”

“What’s up?! What’s up is that you’re wearing my sweatpants!” he barked, pointing at the offending article of clothing.

Y/N glanced down at the sweatpants, then back at Bakugou with a sheepish smile. “Oh, these? I found them in my laundry again. They’re super comfy. I thought they were just mixed in with my stuff.”

Bakugou was fuming, his face turning red. “How do you keep mixing up our laundry? Are you doing this on purpose?”

Y/N giggled, closing her book and sitting up. “Maybe I just like your taste in clothes. They’re really comfy.”

He crossed his arms, trying to maintain his stern expression despite the fluttering feeling in his chest. “You can’t just keep taking my clothes! What’s next, my hoodies?”

Y/N shrugged playfully. “If they’re as comfy as these, maybe.”

Bakugou groaned, rubbing his temples. “You’re impossible. Just give them back when you’re done, alright?”

She smiled up at him. “Sure thing, Bakugou. Thanks for letting me borrow them.”

He grumbled under his breath, turning to leave her room. “Yeah, yeah. Just… don’t do it again.”

As he walked away, he couldn’t help but feel a mix of frustration and something else—something he wasn’t ready to admit to himself just yet.

The next week, Y/N headed to the common room, a perplexed expression on her face. “Hey, guys, has anyone seen my white shirt with a strawberry on it?” she asked, looking around at her friends.

Everyone looked at each other and shrugged, except for Kirishima, who was stifling a laugh. “Uh, Y/N, you might want to look over there,” he said, pointing to the corner of the room.

Y/N turned to see Bakugou standing there, wearing her white shirt with a strawberry on it. The shirt was clearly too small for him, stretching tightly across his broad shoulders and chest.

Bakugou crossed his arms, attempting to look nonchalant despite the obvious discomfort. “Oh, this shirt?” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Found it in my laundry. Thought I’d give it a try since you seem to like wearing my stuff so much.”

Y/N stared at him in disbelief for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Bakugou, you look ridiculous! That shirt is way too small for you!”

He huffed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his best efforts to remain serious. “Yeah, well, maybe now you’ll think twice before taking my clothes.”

She shook her head, still giggling. “Alright, you win. You can have your sweatpants back. Just give me my shirt, please.”

Bakugou uncrossed his arms and started to pull the shirt off, struggling a bit as it got stuck. “Fine, but this is the last time you take my stuff without asking.”

Y/N stepped forward to help him, tugging the shirt free. “Deal. But you have to admit, it’s pretty funny seeing you in my shirt.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in them. “Yeah, yeah. Just keep your clothes out of my laundry.”

As Y/N finally managed to pull the shirt off Bakugou, she looked up at him with a grin. “Thanks for the laugh, Bakugou.”

He grunted, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Whatever.”

A few days later, Bakugou found himself wandering into the laundry room. As he sorted through his laundry, he noticed a pile of Y/N’s clothes on the counter, waiting to be washed. An idea formed in his head, and he smirked mischievously.

He quickly rummaged through his laundry basket and pulled out his favorite hoodie. It was a little worn but incredibly comfortable. With a final glance around to make sure no one was watching, he casually tossed his hoodie into Y/N’s pile of clothes.

A couple of days later, Bakugou was lounging on the couch in the common room when he heard someone approaching. He looked up and tried to hide his excitement as he saw Y/N walking in, wearing his hoodie.

“Hey, guys!” Y/N called out, plopping down on the couch next to him. “Is anyone missing a hoodie? I found this in my laundry, and it’s super comfy.”

Kirishima raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Nice hoodie, Y/N. Looks familiar.”

Bakugou tried to keep his cool, giving a nonchalant shrug. “Yeah, that’s mine. But you can keep it if you want. Looks better on you anyway.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, giving him a suspicious look. “Oh, really? You’re just giving it to me, huh?”

Bakugou avoided eye contact, pretending to be interested in the TV. “Yeah, whatever. It’s just a hoodie.”

Mina, who had been listening in, burst into laughter. “Wow, Bakugou! Didn’t know you were into sharing clothes now.”

Y/N giggled, pulling the hoodie tighter around herself. “Well, thanks, Bakugou. It is really comfy.”

He finally glanced at her, a small, satisfied smirk on his face. “Yeah, whatever.”

Y/N playfully nudged him.

As the rest of the squad joined in the laughter, Bakugou couldn’t help but feel a little triumphant. Maybe sharing wasn’t so bad after all.

[djemsostylist]

The thing I love most about the Warhammer 40k Space Marine game, starring one Captain Titus of the Ultramarines, is that it explains NOTHING. AT ALL. This game goes "well you wouldn't be playing me if you didn't know what Warhammer was, right?" and they would probably be mostly correct except that no, actually, I didn't even know what a space marine was when I first played, way way back in the early 20teens.

The game dumps you into a world where you play as a Captain of the Ultramarines. What is an Ultramarine, you ask? Why it's Captain Titus of course! and Leandros and Sergeant Sidonus. Are there more of them? Maybe, who knows! What's a Blood Raven? It looks like you, but different colors, and there are also only 4 of them. Are all of the space marines just squads of 4? Did you used to have a fourth and he died? Are you an army or a strike force? Who knows! The game for sure isn't gonna tell you!

What's an "inquisitor?" Well, it's Drogan of course! The one you have you save! And he's a psyker see. (What's a psyker, you ask? Well, it's what the Inquisitor is! Is it the same thing? NO IDEA! Just keep killing!) Now, is he also a space marine? Hard to say! Are space marines big, or just people in like, really big armor? WHO KNOWS! Not you, now kill some orks! Why are we killing orks? Because that's your mission of course!

And oh, hey, you're on a Forge World, fighting through the factories of the mechnanicum. What are these things? Well, you're on them and in them, what else do you NEED to know?

My favorite bit is when the Forces of Chaos show up, and a demon rips his way out of the fabric of reality, and it's just like "oh yeah, did we forget to mention you might have to fight demons? OOPS! Well, they pop as delightfully as an ork, so hop to it!" and then they just give you a different sort of Really Big Gun you can use to get on with the killing. Leandros seems concerned, the Inquisitor and Sidonus don't (and who outranks who? The regular men and women call you "Lord" but you call the Inquisitor "Lord" and all of you seem beholden to a "God-Emperor" (and is he an emperor or a God, or something of both?) but the only thing that matters is whether you chose a Plasma Rifle or a Lascanon to get through this next round, so who are you to question anything?

When the Inquisitor tells you to "meet at the monument" you just do, even though the monument is a nondescript hooded figure that says nothing and means little (except that these people do have monuments to something, and is it a saint? a martyr?) and so you go there anyway because there are more greenskins coming and you are about to get a thunderhammer (and maybe a jumppack, though those never last long.)

There are skulls sort of everywhere and everything looks like some sort of outsized Gothic cathedral and the voice that drones on and on sounds British and clipped and the words she says are dystopian and strange but there are always more orks to kill (and demons and men who look like you but aren't you, and are they really men behind those masks anymore, spilling from yawning purple clouds and splattering the walls with blood before vanishing i a lingering miasma) so you just keep going.

At one point a man who is not a man offers you the chance to become a god, to become a creature of whatever form you wish, and you still aren't entirely sure what the ultramarines are (and who is Lord Guilliman and his tenants your battle brother holds so dear) but there is a certainty in your refusal, a rigid belief that you won't fall because you can't fall (and did the man who is not a man who offers you a godhood fall? or has he always been like this?) but you deny him anyway (because you can, because you must, because you are an Ultramarine or because you believe in something more?) and you fight and fight and fight and kill and kill and kill and kill and kill and bleed until perhaps there is no blood left (your armor is huge and cumbersome and the floor shakes when you land but you move with grace and speed and roll and dodge and kill and live and what are you even, really?) and in the end you have saved a world and when you say "More than you know" you mean it with your whole heart because you are human, you are, you bleed, and you tire, and you grieve and you mourn (but are you human, really? if you can touch the darkness and not give in, not turn aside, if men call you angels and demons speak of gods) and it all means nothing because men you are you but not you show up, men in black and white (they look like Holy Orders, Hospitallers or something close) and a man who is an Inquisitor who is not Drogan, who speaks softly but firmly and they take you away and Leandros looks on with fear and maybe regret (and you do it to save Mira, you think, her and all the others you died a thousand times to save except you lived, and she lived, and they call you Angels and if you can't die maybe it's true, or perhaps you love them, all of them, the men and women who look at you with awe and fear and love, and isn't that being an Angel, in the end?)

Anyway, I've played this game thrice through (easy, medium, hard) and read all the codex and I still, to this day, do not know what happens at the Siege of Terra and what happens to make 30k 40k, and I think that's really sort of beautiful, in the end.

[whenwewereyoung97]

As a countdown to Onyx Storm’s release date, I’ve decided to post my favorite quotes, one per day, in no particular order.

A little longer of a quote today, but this scene just warms my heart. I live for the straight chaos that is Flame Section, Fourth Wing.

13 days!

“We double-checked the rolls to be sure, but it appears that not only does Fourth Wing currently boast this year’s Iron Squad—” The first-years seated in front of us holler, since that honor of boasting the largest number of surviving first-years after Threshing is ours for the second year in a row. Baylor, the stocky one with the skull-trimmed black hair, shouts the loudest, and the corner of my mouth rises when he shoulder bumps Aaric into joining in. “—but Flame Section has the unique honor of being completely intact.” Brennan looks down at Bodhi. “Durran, you brought every single cadet. I guess that would make you the Iron Section.” Holy shit. I don’t even bother trying to suppress my grin, now. I knew that Fourth Wing brought the most cadets, but we kept our entire section together? “I’m assuming you’d like a patch?” Brennan asks, a smile tilting his lips. “Fuck yes, we do!” Ridoc shouts, coming out of his seat, and our entire section cheers loudly, even me. “Yes, sir,” Bodhi says once we calm, glancing over his shoulder at us like he can’t take us anywhere nice. “I’ll see what we can do.” Brennan glances up at me and grins.

[wistfulforstars]

Your Medicine, My Medicine

Summary: You know how to deal with Tech’s periods of hyperfixation. He’s yet to deal with yours.

Warnings: Here there be fluff! However, my blog is not for minors - Begone! Some vague allusions to sex, teasing, reader is tired, Tech is a bad influence, the squad is hopeless, reader is afab

Part 1? This one got away from me - it was only supposed to be a quick oneshot. I haven't decided if I'm going to do a spicy follow-up.

“Oh yes, go babysit this special squad of elite clones, it’s going to be so fun!” you muttered angrily to yourself, pouring over a sea of half baked statements, equipment requests, and unpaid expenses. 

A headache began to form behind your eyes as you continued to grumble, “The tall one won’t blow you up, the one with the toothpick definitely doesn’t have an attitude problem, and their sergeant absolutely knows how to fill out a mission report!”

You picked up one of said mission reports, a mostly blank page that just said NAL HUTTA. INFILTRATION. COMPLETE. scribbled across the top in Hunter’s untidy scrawl. You tossed it to the ground and thunked your head on the table, taking a moment to lay there. You needed a drink. You wondered, not for the first time that evening, where Crosshair could possibly be keeping his stash of premium Corellian whiskey.

It had been about a year since you’d joined Clone Force 99 as their Communications Officer, and every end-of-month report analysis had gone pretty much the same way. No matter how many times you’d asked your squad to be more organized, to add more detail, to consult you on expenditures, none of your instructions ever seemed to stick. Usually your superiors let it slide. This was CF99, the Bad Batch. Nobody really expected these troopers to be great at paperwork. 

But the squad had an inspection coming up. The first since you’d joined them. And they’d wracked up twice the expenses they were budgeted for, with all receipts buried in a massive pile or half singed from blaster fire. You were about to have some serious answering to do, and the only explanation you’d come up with so far was sorry sir, excuse my Shyriiwook, but how the fuck am I supposed to control these dipshits?

You had a feeling that wasn’t going to cut it.

Briefly, your mind wandered to Tech. If there was anyone on the ship who could help you sort through this mess, to see the patterns in the chaos, it was your resident genius. But he was unfortunately indisposed.

You would be lying if you didn’t say that Tech, even from the very beginning, had always been your favorite. You had clicked on an intellectual level immediately, way back on your first mission when you’d corrected him about a tradition practiced on that particular planet. Instead of being offended or taken aback by your knowledge, Tech had swiftly asked you for points of reference that he could pour into after the mission. He’d then thanked you for your input, and began deferring to you on matters within the realm of your purview. You didn’t know if you’d ever felt such a quick, simple appreciation for your talents before. It was…invigorating.

Tech listened, really, truly listened when you spoke, and always seemed incredibly flattered when you tried to return the favor. Conversation flowed naturally, often well into the night. He was polite and kind, and you’d almost go so far as to say chivalrous in his way, especially lately. Sure, all the boys usually treated you with an added layer of courtesy. You suspected it was because they didn’t quite know what to do with a woman on board. Wrecker seized heavy things from your grasp almost on instinct. Echo was so respectful it was almost disquieting. Hunter had procured extra blankets for your bunk and always made sure you had plenty to eat. And Crosshair…well, he had offered you a toothpick on occasion, but you weren’t sure if that was an attempt at bonding or if there was just something in your teeth.

Tech though…he’d started standing or sitting up perfectly straight when you entered rooms. He scolded the others for being too loud while you were trying to sleep. He was constantly finding something of yours to “fix” and then give back to you. And just a few days ago, he’d begun this little habit of offering you his hand when leaving or returning to the Marauder. As if you needed help going out the door. You’d practically squeaked in surprise when he looked up at you with earnest brown eyes, daring you to take his offered hand. Crosshair had laughed, but Tech hadn’t cared. He’d just continued to gaze at you patiently, handsome face mostly hidden by goggles and helmet. The air charged with electricity, and when you finally took hold of his hand, you could feel his warmth seeping through his glove. It felt like something between you shifted in that moment, like an invisible string had been spun and tied. You had to admit it was nice to feel cared for. It was sweet. He was sweet.

Too bad he wasn’t here.

The only problem with your… friendship with Tech is that it was sometimes unreliable. He would have these periods where he’d “go dark” as you put it. He’d get his head into a new project or concept and tune out the world for days at a time. Not sleeping, barely eating, and totally fixed on whatever new task had caught his attention. When you inquired about his well being, he would answer in vague, single syllable sentences, or worse, not at all. Being ignored didn’t feel great, but you always knew he’d come out of it tired yet pleased, and ready to show you what he’d been working on. 

However, it would be really nice if this weren’t one of those times. He’d gone under about two days ago, and hadn’t shown any signs of emerging since. You wished he was here to look through this pile with you, tell you how he’d tackle a conundrum like this, or hell, even just keep you company. His ability to focus and problem solve was one of your favorite things about him. It was no wonder he could get so much done by tuning out the world for a few days…

Suddenly, it hit you. Your head flew off the table, and you gazed down hopefully at the sea of papers, a wild look in your eye. Nevermind that you hadn’t slept yet. Nevermind that you were a little dehydrated. Nevermind that Echo still had you on concussion watch after your last mission.

That’s it! you thought. All I have to do is take a page out of Tech’s book, and this will be done in no time!

You lunged for your neglected datapad and got to work.

***********

Tech made his official appearance back into the world around 36 standard hours later, and he was very pleased with himself. He’d developed a prototype for new soundplugs for Hunter, and he couldn’t wait to force them upon his Sergeant. But first, he couldn’t deny his irrepressible urge to show you. You had always appreciated his experiments, and he always appreciated your insights.

Not to mention, he felt you were both… ah… growing closer. Tech had been interested in trying to initiate a more intimate bond with you for a few months now. Only after sufficient research into being a desirable partner and numerous mental exercises for practice did he feel comfortable moving on to the most logical next step: trying to see if you were interested in him in return. His test of trying to hold your hand to help you down from the Marauder had been a definite success. You’d met his attempts with brief shyness, amused puzzlement, and eventually (if he read your body language correctly), anticipation. That was most encouraging indeed. He focused hard for the next few days on getting through the development of his latest prototype, not because it wasn’t a fascinating project, but because he wanted to create more free time for himself. Free time he could use to observe, interact with, and, well, woo you.

His hesitance wasn’t only due to the fact that your affections were hard to read - though you did keep things with the squad painstakingly friendly and professional. Tech was fully aware that he wasn’t the most dynamic or exciting romantic choice amongst his brothers. Echo had a patience about him that he couldn’t hope to emulate, Wrecker was practically built out of fun and carried affection in every bulging muscle, and Hunter and Crosshair had a quality that the holonet had simply called ‘the bad boy thing.’ 

You were bright, achingly beautiful, and more endearing than you had any right to be. It was Tech’s opinion that one person should not be so utterly enthralling - it was simply unfair to the rest of the population. Particularly the occupants of this ship, who all adored you. You could rightly have any one of them you wanted. But yet, surrounded by such obvious choices to warm your bed and your heart, you chose to spend your time at his work table, chatting about nothing and everything. That alone gave him hope. Hope that perhaps, if he paid attention to his research and did not stick his proverbial foot in his proverbial mouth, you would grow to return even a fraction of the affection he felt for you. He could hardly wait so see how you’d been faring the last couple days.

Except every single one of his brothers were currently blocking his way.

“What possible reason would you four have for loitering outside the door?” Tech’s voice came out sharper than he meant it to. 

But none of them even looked back in his direction.

Echo turned to Hunter with a grin, “You lose, sarge. Tech came out of it first.”

Tech frowned, “While I appreciate being completely ignored when I ask a question-”

“The princess has picked up your little habit,” Crosshair tossed back at him through a toothpick. 

“My…habit?”

Wrecker finally spared him a glance, “Shortstuff hasn’t said a word since day before yesterday.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “She didn’t even want to raid the rations with me. I’m gettin’ worried.”

“Wait,” Tech said, alarmed. “You mean she hasn’t eaten?”

“Made her a sandwich yesterday,” Hunter replied, and Tech parsed through the gruff syllables to hear the concern in his voice. “She nibbled at it and kept right on with her paperwork.”

“D’you think she’s mad at us?” Wrecker fretted. “She yelled at us before about receipts.”

“And Hunter’s reports,” Crosshair sneered.

Hunter became defensive in turn, “I’ve told her before, command doesn’t care about reports, they care about results.”

“And that’s clearly made it through her thick skull, good job-”

“Boys, we really need to make sure she drinks something-”

“Should I pick her up, or-”

“How well did that idea work with Tech? He got so scared he tased you-”

“Wasn’t so bad, and I don’t think she has a taser-”

“Maybe if Crosshair hadn’t bought that new attachment-”

“Maybe if Hunter would learn to write the fucking alphabet and not scribble whatever he usually-”

Tech had heard enough. Clearly, something was very wrong with you, and he had missed it carrying on with his own experiments. He tried very hard not to let that thought consume him. You needed assistance, and his brothers were being anything but helpful. 

Using the controls he’d built into his vambrace, Tech commanded the door they were all lurking inside of to whoosh shut, nearly colliding with Hunter’s nose and snapping the end of Crosshair’s toothpick. All four of his brothers turned to glare at him. He stood tall, not bothering to hunch.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” he commanded, and he barely recognized the assertive tone in his voice.

Hunter, though, looked at him with a knowing glint in his eye. Echo sobered up. Crosshair smirked, the expression slightly undercut by his frayed stub of a toothpick. Only Wrecker seemed vaguely surprised.

“She said she was gonna go do her reports,” he shrugged. “We got an inspection comin’ up or something. Next thing we know, she’s got her nose stuck in her datapad and she won’t snap out of it.”

“Won’t sleep,” Crosshair grunted. “Tried to give her tea to help. She poured it out.”

“She took my spare soundplugs,” Hunter added.

“And you can only get grunts or single word answers from her, if she answers at all. ” Echo nodded in Tech’s direction. “It’s exactly how you get when you’re trying to focus. Like she’s channeling your methods or something.”

Tech crossed his arm, “She must be very worried about how the inspection will reflect on her. Did anyone tell her that half the time the officer doesn’t even bother to show up? And when they do, we pass on successful mission count alone?”

His brothers glanced at each other, silent. He sighed, “Perhaps, since these are, as you say, ‘my methods’ I can get her to snap out of it.”

Hunter brightened almost immediately, and if Tech weren’t so worried about you - had you really not slept all this time? - he would be a little wary of the snide glance his sergeant sent the rest of the squad.

“You know, Tech, that’s a great idea,” Hunter clapped him on the back. “In fact, since this is a delicate matter that you know so much about, would you mind if we left it to you?”

“That’s right,” Echo added, now also sporting a winning smile. “You’re the best man for the job, Tech. We’ve tried everything, it hasn’t worked. And we were about to go out for supplies anyway.”

Crosshair even joined in, toothpick miraculously replaced, “The town’s some distance away, so we won’t be back till after nightfall. Might have to spend the night out there. You can help miss perfect sort herself out while we’re gone.”

Tech glared at his brothers. How subtle did they think they were being?

Kind Wrecker hesitated, “Will she be alright though? Tech?”

He adjusted his goggles, clicking his teeth together, “I will do everything I can for her Wrecker.”

Crosshair snorted behind him, and Tech whirled on his squad, already heading towards the door, “Laugh all you want, but you and your discourtesy caused this, all of you! That woman has been much more help to us than we’ve ever been to her, and if you come back without copious signed and annotated receipts for everything you buy, you will not be setting foot back on this ship! Do you copy, troopers?”

Crosshair laughed his way out the door, but Hunter nodded sincerely before departing. Echo sent a salute Tech’s way with his scomp, before dragging Wrecker, who looked like he might start crying, out of the ship.

The door shut, and Tech locked it from his vambrace for good measure. Silence.

Finally, he headed down through the doorway to get a glimpse at your exhausted frame, folded nearly in two over your makeshift workstation. You didn’t stir as he approached, but perhaps that was because of the soundplugs in your ears. 

Your eyes, frantically scanning a shoddy piece of paperwork, were red and sunken. You mumbled nonsense to yourself in a voice with a slight tremor, and Tech could have sworn you had lost weight since he saw you last.

His mind ran through different possible reasons you might have ended up like this, and then twice as many tactical and complicated scenarios in which he could try and get you to stop and get some rest. But he found he was becoming too concerned for any of those. The diminished light in your eyes, the lack of luster in your hair, it was all instilling in him a less-than-dignified response akin to panic. Tech was a survivor of countless dangerous encounters, but none of them set him on edge quite in this way. 

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, he reached out carefully and laid a hand on your shoulder. No response. He frowned. 

“Meshla,” he spoke quietly yet firmly. “I am going to remove your soundplugs.”

He reached both hands out and plucked them from your ears, but aside from a waved hand and a mumbled, “I told you to go away, Hunter,” you didn’t react. Your eyes remained glued to the form.

Alright, he’d try not to be too offended by that. He, after all, was sometimes slightly confused when he came out of a hyperfixated state, and he was too knowledgeable of himself to not see how hypocritical he was being.

He leaned forward, and his mouth nearly touched the back of your ear, “It’s not Hunter,” he breathed. “It’s Tech.”

You jumped, startled, and whirled around to face him, “Tech! Oh…hi, Tech! W-when did you get, um, get…?”

“Just a little while ago,” he answered. “And imagine my surprise when I come out only to find you working yourself to death.”

At this, a little fire crept into your dull eyes, “Throwing stones in a glass ship, Tech?”

“Don’t start that,” he warned. “I am genetically engineered for more stamina, to require less nourishment, and with the capacity to-”

“Don’t start that,” you barked. “I can gauge for myself how much stamina I have and how much nourishment I require. Poor little nat-born me has months of paperwork to sort through-”

“Paperwork that does not technically need to get done,” he said, and he saw the way you furiously zeroed in on his raised pointer finger. “We will pass inspection regardless.”

But you weren’t giving up, “This is my job, Tech! It might not be a state-of-the-art invention or a new fucking discovery, but it’s mine, and I don’t appreciate you trivializing my role on this ship!”

With that, you turned back around sharply, and started tapping on your datapad so hard that Tech thought he might have to replace the screen. He stood there for a moment, assessing. Clearly, this required a little more than your usual style of interaction. You were tired, and more prone to anger than he’d ever seen you. He’d been attempting to appeal to your own sense of self preservation, but you might be needing a more emotional approach.

Fine, if you wanted to play hardball, he’d play. He smoothly invaded your space, your hunched shoulders to his front, and leaned over, placing his hands on the desk at either side of your body.

“Wrecker is in near tears with worry,” he began, low in his voice. “And I guarantee you Hunter’s having trouble getting to sleep with you up and moving all night.”

Your head jerked a little, but you didn’t answer. Tech covered the hand tapping at your datapad with his own, curling his fingers around yours. His other hand took the pad away, set it down as far as the desk would allow, and went up to stroke your hair. He could feel the tension in your shoulders loosen ever so slightly. 

He’d never touched you with such familiarity before, never felt such palpable intimacy. His heart sang as you allowed him to gently caress your hair with feather light touches. 

“I don’t think you’ve ever snapped at me like that before,” he said gently. “But then again, you’re usually well rested and well fed.”

“Not funny,” you huffed. You tried to wriggle out of his hold, reaching for your datapad.

Tech felt a surge of protective frustration in his chest. He’d never seen you this stubborn. You were taking your well-being far too lightly and he was officially tired of it, “It was not meant to be funny,” his voice was a little sharper, a little rougher. 

He seized the back of your chair, and pulled it out and around. Then he kneeled before your slumped form, and took both your hands in his own, “I can see now, that you do not understand how seeing you exhausted and neglected affects me. Allow me to correct that.”

“Tech-”

“I care for you,” he declared, words spilling from him recklessly. He had to get you to understand. “Acutely. Intensely. In a way that is often beyond my control. And I will do everything in my power, employ every skill at my disposal to avoid seeing you come to harm. Even if the one doing that harm is you.”

You blinked rapidly, surprise flooding your glazed eyes, “I-”

But he would not hear your excuses, your dismissals of his concern, “This is bad for your health, bad for my mental state, and ultimately, bad for the squad. I implore you to sleep, to-”

“Please listen-”

“No, mesh’la, there is no excuse-”

“I like you too!” you shouted, a shaking hand touching his lips to stop him from talking. 

Tech froze. Oh stars…he’d told you, hadn’t he? Kneeling on the dirty floor, both of you exhausted, in the middle of a disagreement. 

So much for his carefully curated plans to romance you.

You let out a slightly manic giggle, probably at the slack-jawed look of idiocy on his face. Your hand moved to cup his cheek, “Any ploy to win an argument, huh?”

Tech quickly laid his hand over yours, alarm rising in his chest “I assure you, cyar’ika, this was anything but a ploy. I did not intend-”

“I was teasing, Tech,” you laughed again. “Believe it or not, I’ve been thinking something was up for a couple weeks now.”

He cleared his throat, sheepish, “Ah, yes, well…I was trying to ascertain if you were remotely interested in pursuing an amendment to our current relationship.”

“You know, you could have just asked.”

He felt his cheeks heat up, “I was trying to present myself in the best possible light.”

“Oh, honey,” you smiled. “You do that every day. Though I won’t lie, helping me down from the ship was very cute.”

He sighed, relieved, “That is excellent news. The field of romantic attachments is completely foreign to me. I’ve been conducting research for weeks.”

“Oh? What kind of research?” your eyebrows rose.

“Standard romantic practices for humans,” he began listing off. “Romantic gestures in different cultures, sexual acts and techniques, common date ideas-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” the grin on your face grew wide with mischief. “What acts and techniques?”

“Sexual,” he affirmed with a wave of his hand. “And a lot of my research into romantic-”

You laid your fingers against his lips again, “Oh no, mister, you don’t get to just brush over that one. You looked into the best techniques for getting me into bed? Before you even told me you were interested? Overplanning much?”

“Actually,” he mumbled beneath your hand. “It wasn’t about getting you into bed, rather more about what to do with you once you were there.”

You giggled, rolling your eyes, “No matter how smart they are, pretty boys are all the same. Tech, that’s something we figure out together. Something we talk about and learn about as we go.”

Tech felt something very warm and light settle into his chest, “I understand what you’re saying,” he took your hand away from his mouth by the wrist, before examining it closely, reverently. He placed a brief kiss to your knuckles, and nodded to himself when he heard your little gasp. “But a woman like you, spectacular and brilliant as you are...you deserve the best in every regard. I have no experience to draw upon, so I decided to supplement that with knowledge. Carefully stored and memorized, of course”

He gazed up at your face, some of his nervousness from the past few weeks bubbling to the surface again. There was always a possibility that you wouldn’t be interested in a partner with no experience in the bedroom. But your eyes were shining, and that gave him hope.

“Tech,” you shook your head. “Did it ever occur to you that I might want to be the one giving you a memorable, enjoyable first time?”

He inhaled sharply, his heart hammering in his ears, “I will admit, it did not.”

You hummed, leaned forward, and reached for his face, drawing him up to your own, “Is this alright?” Your breath fanned over his lips, his chin. 

Tech found himself nodding, a little too frantically, and the next moment your lips were on his, and oh, this was very different from reading about kissing. His heart rate spiked, his hands twitched of their own accord, yearning to grab hold of you, and he was suddenly all too aware of his own body. His goggles fogged up. His cock tightened in his bodysuit. 

Then you grasped the nape of his neck and moaned into his mouth, and that was all it took to break his hesitancy. He grasped at your hips, and, utilizing a strength he didn’t usually have need for, he stood up with you in his arms. You wrapped your gorgeous legs around his waist and ground against his zipper. He gasped, and you took advantage, tongue darting inside, teeth nipping at his bottom lip. 

Tech sampled your mouth in turn, rubbing your hips with his thumbs, before slowing and gently pulling away. He stared at you, breathing hard. Your pupils were dilated with want, your lips swollen, and your fingers played with the little hairs at the back of his neck. You were completely and utterly perfect…

And you hadn’t slept in two days. 

You leaned in to kiss him again, but Tech rested his forehead against yours, still catching his breath, “This is not going any farther tonight, darling.”

He wished he had his recorder on. The pout you gave him was positively adorable, “Why?”

“Because you are tired beyond your limits, and I would be horribly remiss to have you exhaust yourself further by trying to perform for me in any way.” Not usually one for making himself feel strong or manly, Tech found he did like the weight of you in his arms, of your hands clinging to him. Depending on him. 

“And,” he interrupted before you tried to argue. “Even though you thwarted my long and meticulous plan to confess my feelings, I still reserve the right to woo you.”

You snorted a little, “Woo me?”

“Yes, mesh’la. I would like to spend some time with you in a romantic capacity before we run away with our urges.” He began walking you both back towards the bunks. 

“B-but! The boys are gone!”

“Which means we will not have to put up with Wrecker’s snoring,” he said simply. He plopped you into his bunk, but hesitated before he took off his first piece of armor, “I can take you back to your bed, if you prefer.”

But you just grinned and shook your head, “Don’t you dare. If I don’t get to break my three year dry spell, I better get to cuddle.”

He raised a brow, logging that bit of information away, but began stripping his armor and tossing it on the floor. He crawled into bed and felt his face warm at how you immediately attached yourself to his side, “I would like to take you out tomorrow.”

You yawned, the stress of everything finally catching up, “Yeah? Where would you like to go?”

“Anywhere,” he stroked your arm. “On a walk, to a nearby town if there is one. Maybe just to see the sunset.”

You hummed contentedly, “That sounds nice,” and you leaned up to kiss his cheek.

Tech, well he’d be lying if he didn’t admit to it…he melted, “How does a woman like you have a three year dry spell?”

You chuckled, “Break it for me and I’ll tell you all about the short string of losers, cheaters, and one particularly scary bounty hunter that had me swearing off men.”

“Hmm… I find myself more and more grateful that I decided to research this topic.”

He frowned, still unenthused by the idea of laying back and letting you do all the work. He would much rather be the one performing, excelling at pleasing you. Plans began to form in his head, of romance, seduction. He didn’t read through hundreds of articles for nothing, and he was determined that you would be pleased. 

“Tech,” you insisted, but your eyes were closed and your words were slurred. “I’m serious, we’re gonna… make your first time about you, whenever it happens. We’ll do whatever you want to do.”

He decided to try something small before bed. Just a taste of what he had in store for you. One article he’d read mentioned the best ways of initiating interest, and one of them was… talking to one’s partner. In a very particular way,  “But… what if what I want mesh’la… is to have you under me, limp, pliable, hoarse from screaming my name?”

You shivered at the deep voice he’d employed, and Tech waited, amused, as you struggled find words. This was more fun than he'd expected. He leaned in again, lips grazing your ear, "No more skipping meals. No more going without sleep."

"Tech-"

"Promise me," oh he delighted in the wicked, taut energy between you. He wanted to stoke it higher, hotter. "Promise me, and maybe tomorrow we can discuss all the ways you want to make my first time memorable."

Your breath hitched, and you let out a sweet little squeak, but you kept ahold of yourself enough to give a bit back to him, "Only if you promise too. That you'll start sleeping properly. I'll sleep next to you every night if you just come to bed."

Tech sucked in air through his teeth, heart pounding against his rib cage, "I will...try, mesh'la."

He kissed your ear, satisfied when he felt you quake again, "Then get some rest, darling. We're both going to need it."

"Thank you. So will I."

[melanieph321]

HI!! I love your writing!! 💓💓 I read that you will make 7 days of requests so I sent you one, I wanted to ask you for rubén.

where reader is pep's daughter and is secretly with rubén, she is a physiotherapist but from manchester united, when one evening they all meet at pep's house for a team dinner, reader's older sister hits on rubén and so when he's not there anymore reader takes him to his childhood room and they do dirty things 🫢, but when they finish and go out there's pep outside and in the end they confess and he simply replies "I already knew".

THANK YOU IF YOU HAD TO DO IT I LOVE YOU 💓💓💓

Love this request. Made a couple of changes to the plot, I hope you don't mind.

Thank you ❤️

SEVEN DAYS OF REQUESTS 3.0

(DAY 4)

Ruben Dias x Reader - Meet And Greet

+18

Reader is Pep Guardiola's daughter and is dating Ruben without her dad's knowledge. However, that changes during a family BBQ.

Enjoy!

You couldn't believe your eyes. Your dad told you to come home for the weekend because he was hosting a BBQ. However, he never told you that he invited the entire Manchester City squad as well.

You were watching from your bedroom window. Watching how your backyard flooded with a sea of world-class football players, all munching on burgers, hot dogs, and your dads famous smoked paella.

"Y/N, Y/N!"

There was a knock on your door, followed by your little sister stumbling into your room.

"What is it, Nadia?"

"Papa wants you to come downstairs."

"Let me get dressed first. I'll be down in a minute."

"Okay, I'll tell him you said that." Giddy with excitement, she rushed out of the room, only to rush back through the door a split second later. "Oh and Y/N...."

"What?"

She grinned. "Ruben is here."

Your heart skipped a beat. However, you tried to play it cool. "Did he ask about me?"

"Yes, he told me to tell you that he's saving a seat for you at the table. But don't you think it would be stupid of you two to..."

"I got it Nadia. Thank you for the message."

"I'm just saying...." She continued, again reminding you to never ask an eight year old to keep a secret. "....won't dad be suspicious seeing you all cozy with one of his players?"

"Nadia, please." You sighed. "I need to get dressed. I promise to come downstairs in a minute."

"Okay." She shirrped and skipped out of your room, down the hall and back downstairs.

You were left to do your makeup, but you decided to keep it clean and natural. You then went over to your closet, anxious to pick the appropriate outfit. It was a family gathering, meaning you should present yourself as homely and tidy. However, knowing that Ruben was amongst the guests fueled a desire in you to keep things interesting. It was risky. Nevertheless, you came downstairs wearing your favorite summer dress. Correction: Ruben's favorite summer dress.

¡Cariño, ahí estás! (Honey, there you are!)

You had just stepped foot into the backyard when your dad, as always, decide to embarrass you.

"Everyone, say hello to my daughter, Manchester United best physiotherapist!"

He got some giggles for his troubles. However, the joke about your profession was getting old. Everyone had accepted it. Even the media had stopped writing ironic articles about it.

"Hi, honey. You look lovely."

"Thank you, Mami." You kissed her cheeks, unlike your dad. She was happy to see you, but not enough to announce it to the entire world.

"Are you hungry? There's plenty of food."

"Yes, I'll grab something. Just let me say hello to everyone."

You took a lap around the crowded backyard. Except for the Man City squad, your dad also invited the neighbors, making it a block party at its finest. Your first thought was, "How did all these people get here?" You had seen some of the players pull up in their luxury vehicles, but you hadn't expected an invasion of this magnitude. The backyard was usually quiet and peaceful, a place where Nadia could escape the chaos of school, chasing her favorite butterflies. Now, it was a bustling party scene.

"Y/N, Y/N, look who I found."

Speaking of the devil. You were ambushed by your sister, who seemed to enjoy running amongst the many guests. She grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the swimming pool, where a bar had been set up. A bar, surrounded by people and one particular person who caught your eye.

"I told him to wait for you to get dressed." Said Nadia, who eagerly guided you towards your boyfriend.

"Hi." Ruben smiled.

"Hi." You blushed.

"Oh, I know!" Your sister squeald. "I can keep dad distracted if you want?"

"Great idea, Nadita! You do that."

You were relieved to see your sister make her way through the crowd, leaving you and Ruben alone.

"I'm sorry if she's been bothering you."

"No need to apologize." Ruben chuckled. He looked so good and charming in his knewly cut hair, and he wore a shirt and jeans that complimented his fairly tanned skin.

"Have you grabbed anything to eat yet?" He asked.

"No, you?"

"Yes, actually. Who knew your dad could make a mean cheeseburger?"

"Please don't." You chuckled. No one had more experience than you when it came to your dad's BBQ obsession. You looked over to where he stood, tending the grill. He expertly flipped the steaks while chatting with guests. Your mom was busy too, refilling plates and passing out cold drinks to some players.

"Who knew?" Ruben mumbled.

"Yeah, I guess it's his thing besides coaching you guys."

"Yeah, no. I'm not talking about that."

You turned to find Ruben's eyes on you, or your dress to be exact.

"Who knew a person could look so good in a dress." He said, leaning forward, surprising you with a kiss on the cheek.

"Baby?" You gasped. "Not here. Not where people can see."

"Then take me somewhere no one can." His eyes said it all, a devious glimpse reflected in them. You shook your head at the audacity. Still, the whey Ruben's fingers nipped at the hemn of your dress was more than tempting.

"How about a tour of the house?" You whispered.

"After you."

It was a quick house tour, skipping most of the rooms downstairs, heading straight to the second floor.

"....Here's our bathroom. Over there you have my parents room, Nadia's room. And here....." You led Ruben down the hall, stopping at the end of it. "Here you have my room."

Ruben took it in, his eyes wandering from the floor to the sealing. He admired the pictures on your walls, along with the photographs of you as a child, missing a couple of front teeth.

"Cute." He chuckled.

"I was ten."

"A cute ten year old."

"Creepy, but thanks." You wrapped your arms around his neck, guidning Ruben to the middle of the room.

"I'm creepy?" He said, allowing you to lead him across the room, towards your bed. There the two of you laid down and let your lips collide for the first time that night.

"Yes. But only a little creepy." You giggled.

"Oh, yeah? Does it turn you on?"

"You wish."

Ruben laughed but took the liberty to fold the bottom of your dress, revealing your polkadot panties. "Polkadots, interesting."

"My mom is doing laundry. Don't laugh at them."

"Who's laughing?" Ruben scooted down, aligning his face with your pelvis, draping your legs to rest on each of his shoulders. "I love polkadots."

You bit down on your lip as Ruben kissed the insides of your thighs. He knew what he was doing. Ruben always knew exactly what he was doing to you. Your hands made a mess of his hair. Gripping a bundle of it to prevent yourself from moaning his name. He was licking you now. Ruben had pushed your panties to the side just so he could swipe his tongue across your center, making his way upwards, then downwards, repeating the motion until you were pliant. Pliant enough to fit the size of his fingers.

"Ruben." You slapped a hand against your mouth, never meant to let such a rough moan escape.

Ruben drummed a laugh below your stomach but seized to please you with the same intensity. "You taste so good, I couldn't help myself." He came up to kiss you, his weight pressing you down against the matress.

"We have to get back to the party, or else my dad might notice that I'm gone."

Ruben looked down. "Great."

"What?" You chuckled.

"You totally made me lose my boner."

"Me?" You gasped.

"Yes, you." Ruben pressed a swift kiss to your lips before backing off. He offered you a hand, helping you up and out of your bed. He then waited for you to straighten out your dress, as well as change your panties.

"To mention your dad, my coach, should be illegal when I'm trying to fuck you." He said, as the two of you made your way downstairs, back to the party in the backyard.

"Well, at least now I know how to get you off of me." You teased.

"Eww, no. Please don't."

The two of you made your way through the crowd, on your way back to the pool. There the two of you could have some privacy, far away from your dads grill.

"Y/N!"

You flinched at the sound of his stern voice. You and Ruben had just walked past it, the grill, when your dad, out of nowhere, popped his bald head in front of you like a jack in a box.

"Dad....what's up?" You immediately let go of Ruben's hand, forgetting that you had been holding onto it as you left the house.

"Did he like it?" Your dad said, with his usually taunting smile.

"Did who, like what?" You frowned.

"Ruben." He folded his arms. "Did he like our home, considering the two of you were gone for so long."

"Oh."

Heat rose to your face. You could sense Ruben's angst bedside you too as your dad darted at him with laser in his eyes.

"Coach, I can explain...."

"No need, son. I already know."

"What?" Heads briefly turned with your sudden exclamation. "How do you know about me and Ruben?" You said, eager to know.

"Well, firstly...." Your dad perked up. "I am a very smart man. A very very smart man."

"Dad, please." You sighed.

"Okay, fine. Your sister told me."

"Nadia?" You gasped. "That traitor."

"That's what happens when you ask a eight year old to keep a secret."

"I should have known." You mumbled.

"Anyway." Your dad cleared his throat. "I'm assuming that this has been going on for a while."

"A year." You nodded and felt slightly guilty about lying to him for so long. You grabbed a hold of Ruben's hand, squeezing it. "I only kept it from you, though. Mom also knows."

"Great. You give your children life, a home and this how they repay you."

"My apologies, coach." Ruben stepped up. "It's mainly because of me that Y/N wanted to keep our relationship a secret. I just never wanted to put you in a position where your job as my coach has been compromised."

"Well, we're way past that, don't you think?"

Ruben blushed.

Your dad chuckled and stepped in between you, wrapping his arms around the both of you. "No more lying, okay."

"Okay." You nodded and so did Ruben.

"Alright." He rubbed his hands together, making his way back towards the grill. "If there's nothing else you wish to tell me I say, welcome to the family, Ruben."

"Erm....thanks." Ruben scratched the back of his head. You, on the other hand, couldn't be happier, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend while whispering the words "Thank you." to your dad who raised his spatula in a celebratory gesture.

THE END

[leighbaye]

can you do another popular!readerxmikewheeler blurb please?😊

— COINCIDENCE

written by mina leigh ୨ৎ , mike wheeler 𝔁 f! reader | wc 1400

summary. mike wheeler isn't the same boy he was last year. the hellfire club and d&d are his only escape from feeling like a nobody in his own school. she's hawkins high's brightest star, leading the cheer squad with a confidence that lights up every hallway, but when she stumbles upon mike during one of his campaign sessions, curiosity sparks-can two people from different worlds find common ground?

labels. popular cheerleader reader, extrovert reader, introvert mike, shy mike, touchy and affectionate reader.

warnings. add any if necessary

‧₊˚ ୨୧ mina speaks. sabrina carpenter’s short n sweet album. i love it! my favorite songs have to be taste, good graces, juno, and don’t smile. enjoy ♡

hawkins high hadn’t changed much. the same squeaky floors, the same buzzing fluorescent lights, the same faces in the hallways. but to mike wheeler, it felt like an entirely different world. the one where he fit in had disappeared, replaced by one where he was just … invisible.

he hadn’t meant for it to happen. friendships drifted, people changed. lucas found a place on the basketball team, max had her own battles, el and will now resided in california, and mike? mike had the hellfire club.

most days, he liked it that way. the campaign room was a sanctuary, filled with laughter, dice rolls, and the kind of camaraderie he didn’t find anywhere else. but today? today was different.

the door creaked open, and he froze mid-sentence. ❝… roll for initiative.❞ his voice wavered slightly, eyes flickering toward the intruder.

it was her. y/n l/n, the girl everyone noticed. the head cheerleader, with that bright smile and the confidence that seemed to glow wherever she went.

she shouldn’t be here. this wasn’t her world.

her gaze swept over the room, lingering on the chaos of the game board and the scattered dice. ❝sorry, am i interrupting?❞ her voice was light, almost teasing.

dustin answered before mike could. ❝yeah, kinda. but, you know, stay if you want.❞ he grinned, clearly amused by the sheer absurdity of her being there.

mike’s cheeks burned. he ducked his head, pretending to be focused on the game. but he felt her eyes on him.

❝actually, i was looking for you,❞ she said, directing her words toward mike.

his head shot up. ❝me?❞

❝yeah. can we talk?❞ she gestured toward the hallway.

every pair of eyes in the room was on him. dustin gave an exaggerated eyebrow raise, and eddie leaned back in his chair, smirking.

❝uh … sure.❞ mike mumbled, pushing himself to his feet. his heart pounded as he followed her out.

the hallway was quieter, the hum of distant chatter fading as they walked further. she stopped near the trophy case, turning to face him.

❝so,❞ she started, crossing her arms over her chest, ❝what’s the deal with that game?❞

mike blinked. ❝what? d&d?❞

she nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. ❝yeah. it seems … interesting.❞

he didn’t know how to respond. was she messing with him?

❝why do you care?❞ his voice came out sharper than he intended.

her smile faltered for a moment before softening again. ❝i don’t know. i guess … i’ve seen you around. you always look like you’re having fun with your friends. and, well, it looks nice.❞

mike stared at her, trying to process her words. he wasn’t used to people outside of his circle being curious about his world. especially not her.

❝it is fun,❞ he admitted, his voice quieter.

her eyes lit up. ❝see? i knew it.❞ she stepped closer, leaning against the wall beside him. ❝it’s cool that you guys have something like that.❞

he shifted uncomfortably. ❝yeah, i guess. most people just think it’s nerd stuff.❞

❝who cares what most people think?❞ she shrugged. ❝you like it, right? that’s what matters.❞

his heart did a weird flip at her words. he wasn’t sure if it was her tone or the way she was looking at him —like she genuinely meant it — but something about this moment felt different.

❝thanks,❞ he said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

she smiled again, this time brighter. ❝anytime.❞

for a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of the school around them feeling far away.

❝so,❞ she broke the quiet, ❝you gonna teach me how to play?❞

mike blinked. ❝you want to play?❞

❝why not?❞ she laughed, bumping his shoulder lightly. ❝maybe it’s time i tried something new.❞

he hesitated. ❝i don’t know … it’s kind of complicated.❞

she raised an eyebrow. ❝are you saying i can’t handle it?❞

his lips twitched into a small smile. ❝no, just… it might not be your thing.❞

❝let me be the judge of that, wheeler.❞ she grinned, and for a second, he forgot why he was nervous.

the following week, she showed up at hellfire. dustin’s jaw practically hit the floor, and eddie looked like christmas had come early. but mike? he was nervous.

still, y/n fit in better than he expected. she laughed at their jokes, asked questions about the game, and even rolled her first dice with an enthusiastic cheer.

by the end of the session, she was leaning into mike’s side, her hand resting lightly on his arm as she whispered, ❝this is actually fun.❞

his heart raced at the contact, but he managed a nod. ❝told you.❞

❝you’re a good teacher,❞ she teased, her fingers squeezing his arm gently.

he swallowed hard, feeling a warmth spread through him. ❝you’re a good student.❞

she smiled, resting her head against his shoulder for a moment. ❝thanks for letting me crash.❞

❝thanks for wanting to,❞ he replied, his voice soft.

over the next few weeks, y/n kept coming back. not just to hellfire, but into mike’s life. she’d find him in the hallway, throw her arm around him, and drag him to sit with her at lunch.

people stared. they whispered. but she didn’t care, and somehow, neither did he.

❝you’re different,❞ she said one afternoon, walking with him after school.

❝different how?❞ he asked, curious.

❝different good,❞ she clarified. ❝you don’t try to be someone you’re not. i like that.❞

mike felt his cheeks heat up. ❝thanks.❞

she stopped walking, turning to face him. ❝i mean it.❞

he met her gaze, her sincerity hitting him hard. ❝you’re… different too.❞

her smile widened. ❝different good?❞

he nodded. ❝yeah. definitely.❞

she stepped closer, her hand brushing his. ❝you know, i think we make a pretty good team.❞

he glanced down at their hands, his heart pounding. ❝yeah … we do.❞

her fingers intertwined with his, and suddenly, hawkins high didn’t feel so overwhelming anymore.

© MINA LEIGH 2023 - 2024

[spider-jaysart]

Today I'm introducing a dear oc created by both me and my friend @paladin-of-nerd-fandom65 !!

Marco Grayson!!!

(Click for better quality) The first pic is their hero suit and the second one is their casual, default outfit

Name: Marco Grayson and Markoand'r in Tamaranean (which is a name of one of Tamaran's first Kings/Warriors "Markoand'r the deathfire". A little headcanon by @pin-crusher2000 )

Hero name: Starwing

Age: 6-7 years old

Personality: Fierce, stubborn, is always too brave without a care, sometimes is weird in his little way, often passionate/determined, and is a sweet kid with a good heart

Orientation: Gay

Random facts:

Marco is the third and youngest child of Dick and Kory

Marco's favorite Uncle is Damian. Marco looks up to him a lot too and they get eachother, since they're mostly similar in their ways, and are usually chaos together because of it

For others Marco is also close with besides him, it's their Siblings Mar'i and Jake, their 6 year old Aunt Helena Wayne, Wade West, and two playful civilian friends from school named Jarred and Lizza

Marco is in a hero duo with Wade West (aka The Blur) called SpeedStar. They are best friends who grew up knowing eachother ever since they were babies (another headcanon by @pin-crusher2000 )

Marco loves dinosaurs and they are their fave animal. They even own lots of toys and other things of them because of it and they also know lots about them too, because of their interest in them. Bruce and Marco bond over this a lot and on special days, Damian will usually gift them cool art of dinosaurs too

Marco's fave films are the Jurrasic park movies and they're also not the type to mind the gore and instead thinks horror like that is cool

Marco has the condition CIP, which never let's them feel pain at all. This causes many worries most times from family, especially their parents. Dick and Kory usually have to check them to see if they're really okay anywhere, even on normal days for anything, since they don't understand how bad pain is or what it's like at all, which can often make them feel overbearing to Marco, but they only do it cause Marco would never be able to tell them themself if there ever was a problem, so they both have to always keep up with them for their child's own good just to be sure

Marco actually has 7 stomachs while both their siblings have 6

Marco's voice sounds like AJ's from TellTales the walking dead games series in season 4, but slightly lighter on the heavy part

Marco is ticklish on their feet like their Dad, but their most sensitive spots are their ears and ribs

Marco will eat anything, which can also be concerning sometimes. They get this from Kory who isn't a picky eater and Dick who just be tasting anything that's apart of clues like it's normal💀 Marco's fave foods tho are cookie dough and their Mom's more stranger cooking, which are unlike her usual Tamaranean dishes

When Marco becomes a teenager in the future, they begin going by They/Them pronouns and have a boyfriend by that time too, who is Dorin (aka Green Troia), the Son of both Donna Troy and Kyle Rayner, and is also a popular supermodel who sometimes takes up gigs in his spare time (once again another headcanon by @pin-crusher2000 and that oc is created by him)

Marco got help on their hero suit from Mar'i and Jake and got it approved by Damian after immediately taking it to him for reviewing lol. Damian was impressed by the results of the design and the only thing he suggested was a mask, but Marco rejected the idea, since they like the idea of being free like their Mother and big Sis, which left Damian a bit grumpy internally but he just dealt with it lol

Marco is a proud member of the Robin!Damian defense squad/fan club with their Aunt Helena, since Damian is one of them that just gets too much hate a lot of times

Unlike others who often make fun or judge it, Marco actually loves Damian's horned boots and thinks they're so cool, since they remind them so much of dinosaurs

Damian has a nickname for Marco, which is Goofball

Marco is one of the only special ones Damian gives out forehead kisses to as a habit from Talia always doing it to him when he was younger. But it's only between them, cause he has a tough reputation to keep still lmao

Marco has the the unique ability called Starblast, which is being able to breathe out a huge blast of Starbolt energy from their mouth after transferring it from both of their hands up into their lungs (think like Godzilla)

When Marco watched fireworks for the first time at 3 years old, they got so excited and overjoyed from the show, so since Starbolts are so similar to them, that's when their powers finally came out, when they were imitating them with their hands

[moonshynecybin]

honeysuckle: how our love unites enemies

honeysuckle:

scream okay i just edited some of airport au before getting these so it was rattling around in my head. and this ask made me think it would be funny if casey stoner showed up. so here. bad comedy. for those who do not remember last we left marc “the weirdest rumor i ever heard about myself was that i was gay” marquez, he had just had a sex dream about valentino rossi, who has recentlyish decided to be his friend again. as you can imagine he’s a bit confused about all this:

Marc decides that he should probably avoid Valentino for a while, after a dream like that. Get some distance and get his head on straight.

The problem is, Valentino apparently very much does not want to avoid Marc.

It’s in the chaos of the flyaways, that long slog at the end of the season, and Marc doesn’t have anything to prove at this point except for all the different things that he does, and it’s Phillip Island, a track where he can make a difference. He knows he has an opportunity where he can really sink his teeth into something here.

All said, it’s his favorite track, he’s looking forward to the weekend— and he’s really looking forward to approximately 9,000 miles between him and Valentino Rossi and his long fingers.

Which of course means that when he wheels around a corner on his scooter that Friday, he doesn’t expect to see Vale standing next to the media center with a day old scruff decorating the cut of his jaw and Casey goddamn Stoner bitching away about aero at his elbow.

Marc, shocked and in his raincoat, applies the brake to his scooter in an acute fashion and skids a little, motocross style.

Vale, under his neon yellow umbrella and always attracted to the sound of screeching rubber, sees him.

He starts walking.

Horrifically, Casey follows.

Marc smiles.

“I’ve been cornered.”

“Put your hands up in the name of the law,” Vale says in a terrible imitation of a cowboy, and then greets him. “Ah, you are ready for tomorrow?”

Marc nods before he can tell his neck what to do.

“Looks like no practice today, and more rain,” What would he normally say to Valentino. Well, normally he wouldn’t say anything. So that’s probably not a viable strategy.

“That’s good for you, yes?” Vale says, blue eyes intent on him, like he’s genuinely interested.He steps close to Marc, including him under his umbrella, and Marc tightens his fingers hard on the handlebars of the scooter. “Less practice for others and then— with the rain, easier to catch? A left-hand circuit, so you have more room to outpace the factory bikes.”

Casey, walking slowly, arrives in time to catch the tail end of Vale’s statement, and his eyebrows twitch up, gaze ping-ponging back and forth between them.

Marc waves.

Vale, though blunt, is not wrong, and Marc will take a win in the wet of it comes to that, but the forecast clears as the weekend progresses, and the thing he’s really missing so far this year is a clean win. No wet, no sand, just him and the motorcycle and everyone else behind him. The GP23, despite being unequivocally weaker after he exploded in Indonesia and they removed his improved flywheel, is still a bike that he has enough experience on that he can use his style a bit more and manipulate it the way he needs to, so the parts change hasn’t made too much of an impact on his pace. Plus, this is also one of Pecco’s more mediocre tracks, something he knows that Vale knows but will never say to Marc. Honestly, if it’s not for Pecco or the floundering VR46 team squad (unlikely), he has no idea why Vale is here. Maybe Casey invited him to do some dirt track.

He opens his mouth to twist all this into something shiny enough that it can be outwardly verbalized to two other world champions when Casey, so far neglected by Vale, speaks.

“Wow. You know, I really didn’t believe it.”

They pause.

“That you two had made up again, I mean,” He throws a thumb Vale’s way. “I thought this one would take it to his grave, he’s good at that.”

Marc hits him with a weak smile and Vale doesn’t even look over, eyes still on Marc and whatever he sees on his face.

Casey seems to notice, and a divot appears between his eyebrows. Marc scrambles to find something to say that will make this interaction end in the next ten seconds.

“Um, so what convinced you that he wasn’t evil?” Casey asks. So much for that dream.

“Same thing that convinced me that you weren’t,” Vale quips.

“Jury’s still out, then?”

Vale puts a hand on Marc’s shoulder and laughs at Casey beatifically. “Ah, no. Maybe he is just prettier than you? Better in bed, you know.”

Marc laughs, high and shrill, and Casey and Vale both turn to look at him.

“Okay, Marc?” Casey asks, and Marc nods. It’s a normal joke— it’s the kind Vale’s made before. About him, about Jorge Lorenzo, probably about Casey. If 20 year old Marc were here right now, he would just be thrilled that Vale was teasing Casey and using Marc to do it. That idiot would sit here and smile and think about women when he went home to jack off and go on with his day. No such pleasures for 31 year old Marc.

He swallows. He hasn’t responded quick enough. Vale’s eyes narrow, and Marc feels horribly exposed. He’s gotta get out of here.

“Yeah, yeah. Something in my throat, you know? Gresini— uh, they need me in the box, I have to go over something. For tomorrow, the sprint. So. I should go. It was nice seeing you both, I’ll see you later— “

He punches the gas, and as they scramble away from the scooter to avoid getting any toes caught in the crossfire, he zooms away before he can hear their responses.

When Vale’s hand slides off of Marc’s shoulder as he accelerates, the places where his fingers touched Marc burn all the way back to the garage.

[ask-chubby-hamilton-hs-au]

~The Frenchmen scrambled over, glaring at Alexander and starts to get onto him, struggling a whole bunch with his words~

“Alex..! Wh-Whyz wold(would) you…how you say…do zhat!”

"Don't be over dramatic, Lafayette. He wasn't hurt that bad."

Alexander rolled his eyes.

"I just wanted him to trip, wasn't my fault he broke his leg."

[fluentmoviequoter]

I Chose You

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!(book reader!)reader

Summary: Street enlists all the help he can find to plan the perfect proposal.

Warnings: fluff, banter, a few book references at the end, brief mentions of gambling and breaking and entering

Word Count: 1.8k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

When Street enters the locker room at the end of the day, Hondo, Deacon, Luca, Tan, and Chris sit on the bench and watch him. He furrows his brows and slows between steps as the door closes behind him.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“You tell us,” Hondo answers, leaning back on his hands. “You’ve been weird-“

“Weirder than usual,” Tan interjects.

“There’s something on your mind,” Deacon amends. “If you want to talk about it, we’re here to listen.”

Street sighs and glances down. His team knows him well, too well, he thinks. There is something he wants to talk to them about; he needs advice and help but isn’t quite sure how to ask about it.

“Do not say you’re breaking up,” Christ blurts out.

“Chris,” Deacon whispers, turning quickly toward her.

“He did the look! He only makes that face when he’s thinking about her and clearly whatever is bothering him is big!” she defends.

“It is about her,” Street admits. “But I’m not breaking up with her. The opposite, really.”

Deacon smiles as Hondo’s eyes widen.

“20 Squad’s resident playboy is proposing?” he asks incredulously.

Tan checks his phone to ensure it’s not April Fools’ Day, then shakes his head as he smiles. He’s happy for Street; they all are, but that doesn’t mean there will be a break in the banter they’ve grown used to.

“I’m sure you need a lot of help,” Tan says. “With… everything, right?”

“Yeah,” Street murmurs. “But maybe Deac is more suited to help with this kinda thing.”

“We’re all helping,” Luca announces as he stands. “But I think we’re going to need more hands.”

“Why?”

“Because we know you Street,” Deacon answers, smiling as he joins Hondo. “And you’re going to go big.”

“What is going on in here?” Hicks yells as he enters SWAT HQ. “You’re all supposed to be at home.”

“We’re busy!” Mumford calls over his shoulder before looking at the paper in his lap.

“Oh, well in that case,” Hicks mutters sarcastically. “What are you doing?”

“Planning a proposal,” Rocker answers with a smile.

“Whose?”

“Guess, Commander!” Luca interjects.

Hicks pinches the bridge of his nose but smiles as he asks, “Hondo?”

Hondo makes a sound between retching and crying, then shouts, “Mrs. Right ain’t knocked down my door yet, Commander.”

“Gentlemen!” Hicks calls again before the common area descends into even more chaos. “Who is proposing?”

“I am,” Street says, waving from beside Deacon. “We’re planning the whole night.”

Hicks stares at Street for several moments, then asks, “Can I help?”

“If you care at all about our sanity, you will,” Deacon replies. “He wants to propose but doesn’t know what kind of ring she’ll like.”

Hicks rolls his eyes as he takes a paper from Deacon. “You and I both know he does.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Street argues before immediately correcting, “I don’t.”

“What’s her favorite color?” Hicks asks, holding a pen above the short list of ideas Deacon jotted down.

“Uh, she likes blue.”

“Does she wear jewelry?” Mumford adds. “Rings?”

“Small ones, sometimes.”

“First shape you think of when you hear her name,” Rocker calls.

“Heart,” Street answers without hesitation. “Wait, what?”

“You’ve got your ring,” Deacon tells him. “Small blue heart.”

“Where would I even find something like that?”

“You’re right, Streeter,” Luca says, shaking his head with a frown. “Because Los Angeles has a shortage of specialty jewelry stores.”

“That was unnecessary,” Street responds. “But, sure, let’s say I get a ring like that. Then what?”

“Is he serious?” Hicks mumbles to Deacon.

Deacon smiles and matches his tone to explain, “He’s nervous.”

“Street, she’s going to say yes,” Chris assures him. “Figure out when and where you’re going to ask.”

“Right… How do I ask?”

“You’ll figure something out,” Tan says.

“Real helpful, thanks.”

“Hey, you said she likes reading,” Mumford begins. “Why not do something with that?”

“Yeah, you could hide the ring in a book or set up some romantic reading night-type date,” Rocker adds.

“She’d love that,” Street agrees. “Reading night would work.”

“Well then,” Hondo announces, pushing his hands on his knees as he stands. “Sounds like we have some shopping to do.”

The rest of 20- and 50-David squads stand, and Hicks asks, “That requires all of you?”

“You’re invited too,” Hondo says with a wink.

Hicks tilts his head to the side, then shrugs. “Why not?”

“Oh, uh, hello,” a woman squeaks after the bell over the door chimes. “What can I help you with today… sirs?”

“Excuse the crowd,” Hicks tells her.

“We have a very nervous young man here looking to propose,” Luca explains.

“I’m not very nervous,” Street argues.

Hondo nods behind him, and the jewelry store attendant presses her lips together to hide her smile.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” she asks Street.

“Something small and blue,” he answers, glancing down at the case of rings between them. “Maybe with a heart?”

“I may have just the thing. One moment.”

She walks through a doorway, leaving the LAPD SWAT teams alone in the showroom.

“At least the place won’t get robbed,” Rocker murmurs as he leans over a watch display.

“Way to jinx us, pal,” Mumford grumbles from the other side of the room.

“Perhaps something like this?” the woman asks, opening a velvet box. “It’s a sterling silver band with a natural heart-cut topaz insert.”

Street hums as he watches the light glint off the shiny edges of the rock. “I like the shape and the color,” he says. “Do you have blue diamonds?”

“Lab-grown,” she replies with a nod.

“What if…”

“Go with your gut, Street,” Deacon encourages.

“Would it be possible to put a blue diamond heart in a ring, and then a small white diamond on either side?”

The woman sets the ring in a locked box beneath the counter and then clicks a few buttons on her computer. She turns the screen so Street – and the other officers – can see a blue diamond with white diamonds on either side. It’s a small ring, but it’s exactly what Street can imagine you wearing.

“We can then shape the blue diamond into a heart and use a sterling silver band,” she explains.

“I’ll take it,” Street responds.

“Perfect! Do you know her ring size?”

Street’s smile falls, and Hondo sighs.

“Guess we have to break into her house and steal a ring,” Luca muses.

“I’m in!” Rocker calls.

Two months later, Street has the ring box in his pocket and his backyard decorated like a reader's dream. There is a new swinging chair with plush cushions, accented by a book bouquet. He’s only waiting for you, and for his nerves to wear off.

“Street?” you call from the front door. “Where are you? I’m not playing Nerf hide and seek with you again, it’s not fair!”

“Backyard!” Street calls, forcing himself to keep his hands out of his pockets.

When you walk out, dressed in your favorite dress, Street forgets about his nervousness. You’re his future, his everything, and he wants to make you his wife. So, when you wrap your arms around him and don’t even notice all of the gifts, he buries his face in your shoulder and smiles.

“Are those books?” you ask suddenly.

“They are. And I know you can’t help yourself, so start reading,” Street replies.

You kiss his cheek, then hurry to the chair he constructed just for you. As you carefully extract a book from his special arrangement, you don’t notice him move to stand behind you or lower to one knee.

“How did you remember I wanted to read this?” you ask, opening the book to the first page. After you read a few lines, and Street still hasn’t answered, you turn with a smile.

Your book falls as your hands move to cover your mouth, and Street extends one hand from the ring box to catch it.

“I remembered that you wanted to read that book because I remember you. You have become my everything, you’re all I think about, all I want to come home to. I want to know you, to love you, for the rest of my life. Even though I know I’ll never be exactly like those guys in your books… mostly because I could take them in a fight-“ Street smiles as you laugh wetly, then continues, “I will do everything I can to be what you deserve, to show you the love that you are worth and I will be your other half, by your side, for as long as you’ll allow me. So, will you turn your back on the romance in those books and marry me?”

You nod quickly, dropping your hands toward Street’s shoulders as you answer, “Yes! Yes, Street, and not because you can take them in a fight but because the love you’ve given me has made me whole.”

Street smiles and pushes up, holding you close after you jump into his arms. After a moment, he pulls back slightly and slides the engagement ring onto your finger. You gasp at the sight of it, and Street knows that all the fun he and his SWAT brothers had planning this doesn’t hold a candle to the light and love in your eyes right now.

“Um, does turning my back on that romance mean I can’t read all the books?” you joke, blinking to clear your tears.

“Not without me,” he replies.

You take Street’s hand as you survey the rest of his perfectly planned night. A tea set and fresh bread wait on a plush picnic blanket, red and gray accents spread across the patio, and a distinct sense of how well your fiancé knows you.

“So, where is everyone?” you ask, proving how well you know him.

“Waiting down the street for my signal,” he answers. “They want to brag about how much work they did and that I couldn’t have done any of this by myself.”

“You could have,” you whisper before kissing Street. “But sound the signal and let me show off this ring.”

“We have a date night to finish first,” Street reminds you.

“You’re going to make them wait?”

Street leans close to whisper, “You’re my fiancée.”

You kiss Street once more, then lean against his side as you enjoy the evening he has planned and discuss the beauty of your romance story.

Bonus:

“What’s the signal?” you ask Street.

“Maybe it has to do with a rider without its dragon,” Street answers, running his finger over your cheekbone.

“A tragedy?”

“We had to have a plan in case you said no.”

“You didn’t. What is it?”

“Maggie chose a rabbit,” Street whispers.

You smile widely and take Street’s hand. “The signal can wait,” you murmur as you lean in.

Down the street, not at their planned waiting place, but in a restaurant a mile away, Hondo collects his winnings from the bet that Street would not use the signal. He splits the winnings with Deacon and Luca, and they walk away nearly as pleased with the night as you and Street.

[eobe]

So, I noticed the Chaos Squad stole armor from Commander Fox and Commander Wolffe 😂✨🫶 (check out for context and gorgeous art!)

And because I have waaaaaay too much fun with them, I got inspired, couldn‘t resist and thought myself of which clones I would steal their armor 🤔

Hmmmm, my favorite colors are turquoise or teal and my favorite clone armor design is that from my dear Captain Keeli, but there‘s another beautiful teal colored armor on Ryloth… 🤷🏽‍♀️

My little stealth mission was only successful, because Lupe and Aev got busted! So I could run for my life and really got away with fat prey hehehe 😜

Sorry, Captains. Not sorry oops 😬

So who's the sneaky subject running away?

Still working on my OC, but here we are with first glimpse 🤩 Hope you like this little thief hehe 😜

I didn't abandon my ALT text mission, I'm just struggling how to combine things. Only few of my old artworks left and I'll do them, I'm a bit proud 🥹

Taglist, I don't know if you want to see OC art, too – tell me, if not, I won't be mad 🫶: @eclec-tech @lonewolflupe @bixlasagna @returnofthepineapple @sunshinesdaydream @covert1ntrovert @general-ida-raven @vrycurious @dystopicjumpsuit @chaicilatte @groguandthebadbatch @justanotherdikutsimp @ladylucksrogue

Chaos squad tag: @ghostymarni 🤪🫶

Howzer tag: @morerandombullshit ah, better late than never!

[dindjarindiaries]

What about

“You’re not alone, baby. You never have been.”

With Hunter? I’m so glad you’re interested in writing for him right now. He’s my favorite!

character: Hunter (The Bad Batch)

prompt: “You’re not alone, baby. You never have been.”

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

It felt good to be helping someone again, and that's what you dwelled upon as you and Wrecker laughed with the clone cadets in the cockpit of the Marauder. They had been curious about some of Wrecker's wartime stories, and both he—and you, as a long-time honorary member of the squad—had decided to tell your most fond memories. Most of those involved laughs, usually centered on the pure chaos of each story.

But the absence of one was felt heavily, particularly for you. There was a cold chill in the place of the empty chair alongside you, and when you tore your gaze away from Wrecker and the boys, you saw Hunter bent over Tech's old datapad yet again. Your lips pulled tight, and your fingers tapped against your crossed arms.

You didn't want to admit it, but he had only been getting worse as time went on.

It wasn't unusual for Hunter to be in his lonesome. As the squad leader, he often took it upon himself to seek isolation and focus on planning ahead. His enhanced senses made isolation even more tempting for him.

This isolation, however, was different. Losing Crosshair what felt like cycles ago was bad enough. Echo's departure was understood by everyone, but hard to digest. Then, all at once, it was Tech and Omega.

Hunter didn't have to tell you about the burdens on his shoulders. It was clear in the way he carried himself. As the person he left himself be the most vulnerable with, you saw it more than anyone else could.

No doubt sensing your eyes on him, Hunter's gaze rose and met yours for a moment. As if it was too much for him, he cut his eyes away, setting down the datapad on the station and rising from his chair. He disappeared behind the curtain of Omega's room, yet again shutting himself away.

That time, you weren't letting it slide.

You brushed your hand over Wrecker's shoulder to catch his attention. He stopped another fit of laughter to look at you, and you gestured with your head to the back of the ship. Wrecker's brow knit together as he nodded in understanding, and your shared gaze said enough. He would have no trouble entertaining your guests as the Marauder made its way to Pabu.

You kept your footsteps light as you closed the distance to Omega's room. Still, Hunter would sense your approach. Whatever you could do to make it easier for him, though, you would. Forcing him into overstimulation wouldn't help to accomplish that goal.

You drew the curtain aside and climbed the rungs of the ladder. Making sure the curtain was closed behind you, you pushed ahead, peering around the corner of the interior hull to see Hunter sitting on Omega's old bed. His knees were drawn up to his chest as the back of his head rested against the hull, his eyes closed—but not in a peaceful way.

He exhaled as he sensed your presence, his eyes remaining closed even as he spoke in a low voice. "I'm sorry."

You raised your brow at him. "For what?"

Hunter's eyes opened before he rolled his head to the side and faced you. There was a distress so prominent in his brown eyes that it made your chest ache with a resounding pang. "You and Wrecker were having fun. Smiling, laughing even." The corners of his mouth pulled up only for a moment at the thought of your joy. "I didn't mean to ruin it."

You frowned at him. "You didn't ruin it, Hunter."

Hunter huffed, a self-deprecating sound as he rolled his head back to where it had been before. His fingers fumbled with each other as he went on. "I need to start making use of these private spaces again. I've... gotten too comfortable thinking out in the open."

You started to scoot yourself closer to him. "Because you have the space to. There's no reason to be on your own."

Hunter's gaze was cast upwards and it stayed there, even as you watched his jaw work for a few moments. "I left Crosshair on his own. I let the Empire get away with Omega. And I ordered Tech to..."

Hunter didn't have to finish that thought, and he couldn't if he wanted to. You watched as his eyes squeezed closed again, his chest inflating with a breath he held as his lips pressed together and his jaw circled. You brought yourself close enough to his side to take one of his gloved hands and lace it with yours, resting them on your thigh as you waited patiently for him.

"I may not have a reason to be on my own, but I deserve to be." Hunter reopened his eyes, revealing the tears that sat stubbornly on his waterline. Your body nearly trembled in your grief for him as he went on. "I'm alone with these decisions I made." He swallowed hard, making the lump in his throat even more visible to you. "I always will be."

You lifted your free hand to the side of his face furthest from you, gently turning his cheek to make you face him again. His devastation threatened to ruin you, but you kept yourself strong for his sake, offering him a refuge with a smile to light the end of his dark tunnel. "You're not alone, baby." Your voice was hushed, barely a whisper as your fingertips ran over his cheek. "You never have been." You brushed some of the wisps of hair away from his bandana. "And you never have to be."

Hunter paused, and you knew him well enough to recognize that he was using his senses to detect a lie. When he came up with nothing but the truth, he rested his forehead against yours in relieved surrender. "I know the responsibility I hold. I will never shy away from it. But, this... these burdens..." his voice lowered to a broken yet honest whisper as he finished, "I need help carrying them."

You cupped his jaw and ran your thumb over his skin. "You never had to carry them on your own, Hunter." You nodded at him. "We want to help." You gave his hand that you still held a squeeze. "I want to help."

Hunter searched your gaze before he returned your nod, his tensed shoulders beginning to loosen as he whispered his genuine gratitude upon your lips. "Thank you."

Your kiss was slow and soft, taking its time in the very same way Hunter would with his share of these burdens. You kept him close, reminding him of how you would always be there—and not needing a single word to do so. His free hand snuck around the back of your neck to pull you closer, a gentle plea for you to stay close. It was an order you were more than happy to take from him.

When you parted, Hunter began to smile, a gesture you hadn't seen on him in much too long. You raised your brow and already felt your lips spreading wide in your own grin before he explained himself. "You know, uh... nobody's ever called me that."

You furrowed your brow at his sudden shyness as his cheeks began to redden. "Called you what?"

Hunter's gaze fell to your entwined hands as he gently began to knead his within your own. The smile wouldn't leave his lips as he repeated the endearment with an adorable awkwardness. "'Baby.'"

You relaxed your brow. "Oh." You softly nudged his shoulder to gain his attention once again. "Well, do you like it?"

Hunter waited a beat before nodding, his face reddening even more at the confession.

You let out a soft laugh. "Then it's settled." You lifted your entwined hands to your lips and kissed his gloved knuckles. "It's you and me, baby."

Hunter rested his forehead against your temple and closed his eyes in sweet relief. "You and me."

[moonpie016]

---

I know this template is old, but I wanted to draw my designs and try drawing from reference. And I like them both.

Especially how Mind's turned out.

And now technically Soul's design is outdated because I am changing them, again. Him and Mind will be changed, but Heart will stay the same.

And now, art consisting of a drawing from days ago.

And possible rambling (or yapping as people say it now. But that's what I'm here for.)

This is Soul's new look, oh my, he's flesh colored. :0 Love his look.

Horns can disappear at will, yet are always present. Like being invisible. The horns can break though, but they can't be removed or torn off. And glow due to certain feelings, or always.

His tail, as it's stated, can turn into his trident whenever it is needed. And good for convenience.

The heart on his jacket was fixed by, who would've guessed, Heart. If any of their jackets are torn, messed up (usually after some chaos antics) Heart will help fix them. Even if he caused it. Soul could fix it themself, but chooses not because it shows he cares for his other halves.

Ok, enough Soul rambling. Onto the drawing.

---

(The cut off says "I don't know how to draw buff people.")

This is the one I was debating to post on Instagram. Nothing wrong with it, favorite drawing. But due to personal reasons, I decided here was the best spot for it.

I'll do the other drawings later on.

So that concludes this paragraph of a post. My brain is procrastinating on the Heart squad. (clearly, only one panel is done.)

---