#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.

[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.

[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

[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."

[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.)

---

[suwbuns]

E-DATERS! — choi beomgyu

↳ e-dater: a couple that dates online

SYPNOSIS. moving back to korea from america, y/n is excited to reunite with her old friends and make new ones. what she doesnt expect is to find herself reuniting with her “ex-boyfriend” from 10 years ago who she dated over minecraft. what makes things worse? he happens to be her favorite streamer who she has been pinning after for years.

PAIRING. streamer!beomgyu x f!reader

GENRE. smau with written chapters, idiots to lovers, exes? to lovers, sort of catfish au lol, crack, fluff, maybe even angst, streamer au but soobin is a youtuber 😩

WARNINGS. incorrect time stamps, possible ooc member moments, lowercase intended, overuse of emojis, wrong hair colors sometimes, lots of twitch slang/vocab, profanity, kms/kys jokes, some of the members are lowk toxic friends :00, y/n is oblivious and an idiot but so is beomgyu lol, will add more if anything comes up!

AUTHOR’S NOTE. there has been so many streamer aus but i just COULDNT RESIST to write my own omg. anyways this is my first actual post and i hope i actually finish this smau 😭

STATUS. ongoing!

CHOOSE YOUR CHARACTERS!

y/n’s bbys | beomgyu antis

LET’S PLAY!

01- soobieboobie

02- for the orphans!

03- gamerboycbg01

04- y/n’s an edater???

05- catfishing

06- where’s my hug at?

07- beomgyu > bogum

08- all my homies hate yeonjun

09- favor

10- heeseung stripper era

11- beomgyu’s genius plan

12- #1 men hater

13- y/n protection squad

14- bald people on the tl

15- heegyu confirmed?

16- twitchcon

17- sugar daddy beomgyu

18- can’t trust y/n these days

19- y/n is a tier three sub

20- group chat chaos

21- annoying cockblocks

22- 3 am endeavours

23- how tf did he bag her?

24- you’re really sus

more tba…

TAGLIST. @openingssequence @suburbiataehyung @shinypieceofgarbage @koeuh @captivq @beowmgyu @qluvrv @ikaeryn @whippedforbeomgyu @i8lhee @heyanonymous123 @vanicogh @sulliefimmie @tae-ology @milkycloudtyg @ox1-lovesick @soobsfairy444 @sulliefimmie @jaxavance @peachenle @pokyloky @peachybeom @alpha-mommy69 @fatoompie @ashxxgyu @soobsdior @viagumi @rikismiel @luvsoobs @lovejunz @wccycc @enha-cafe @kaeslily @hiddenboopy @cashew00nut @merendis @reverbtunes @lcvesickgyuzz @dear-dreamie @fragmentationss @chuuinggummy @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs @beomsbeanie @shigamiryuk @soobliss @woncheecks @sserafimez @ahnneyong @ghostfacefricker6969 @flrtsbin @beomomb @cathaerin (closed)

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Tenderness

AU Reverse Therapy

Previous Part: Peaceful Sleep, Next Part: Feast

Summary: Red corsairs find it harder to keep their desires while the girl becomes attached to them.

Pairing: Chaos!Lamenter/fem!OC/Chaos!Flesh Tearer

Characters: Malina (fem!OC), Luka The Angel (OC Chaos Lamenter), Virgil (OC Chaos Flesh Tearer)

Warnings: yandere, violence, cannibalism, stolkhom syndrome, somnophilia

Word count: 3056

Author's note: Suddenly I realized that if I had written Feast, it would have been a very choppy and quick ending to "Malina's assimilation". So that's how this part was born. And I must say, I'm glad I wrote it first.

Song: London After Midnight - The Bondage Song (Unchained Mix)

Tag List: @kit-williams, @druidwolf21

“I saw Him bestow His blessing upon His servants. Shining like a slashing sword. Bright as the vivid sun. They were gifted with His love and will. And the faithful servants rose from their knees, they abandoned their fear. And turned their weapons against His enemies. The battle was not yet over. Humanity will live. And it will fight for its Emperor.”

“It’s… so beautiful.” - all Luka could whisper, unable to stop looking at his Malina.

How delicately she held the book, how tenderly she whispered the stupid sermons of a stupid old man. How her lips, enchanting lips, moved. How she had to pause and her pink tongue gently outlined the flesh. And her face almost glowed.

He wants her. He wants her so much. Always. All the time. All eternity.

“Yes, the sermons of Saint Ignatius are my favorite.” - the naive girl smiled happily, not understanding that the man was not talking about them at all. - “Unfortunately, I didn’t have a personal book at home, I had to listen to them in church. But thanks to you, Luka,  I finally have one. Thank you.”

“Y-your welcome.” - the man hesitated awkwardly, trying not to blush. If his dear love continued to praise him, then he would have to leave the quarters as soon as possible. He had few ways to calm down. Most often, he had to use his hand.

Well, and last time, due to an excess of emotions (she, with tears in her eyes, kissed him on the cheek with joy when he gave her this stupid book!), he had to go to the lower levels and eat a child. It was delicious, but Luka loved children and therefore cried for a long time after eating. But then he was able to pull himself together and go back. To find his beauty sitting on his bed and waiting for him.

She wanted to read to him. To him~

“There was no point in learning to read on the agri-world, but I had a very smart uncle.” - the girl whispered, involuntarily remembering the past. - “Apart from Ignatius’s sermons, I adored the romance novel about the Sister of Battle and the guardsman. To tell the truth, it was banned for obvious reasons, but my uncle managed to get a copy. Huh, only now do I realize that we behaved like heretics.”

Luka just laughed at this story. It’s even a pity that they almost mowed down half the population of her home world. Judging by the girl’s stories, they were not fanatics at all.

After all, maybe he lied to Malina that he served the Imperium. But the fact that he saved her was not a lie. She is a young girl dreaming of a beautiful and pure love (and she will get it with him). But the bastards from the Inquisition would have burned her alive even for this innocent desire.

They never listen. Never try to compromise, to forgive those who stumbled. To forgive those who did not even break the law. Who simply wanted to survive and used all the resources, even if they were still alive and begged him not to do it. But the Imperium itself says that everyone must carry out their duty. And Luka was the best in his squad, he should have survived.

His brothers ended up in his stomach for a reason. It was their duty.

"But in my defense, I skipped the raunchiest parts." - The girl giggled, clutching the book to her before jerking it away. - "Oh, I guess that's not something I should talk about while reading Saint Ignatius."

Naive, sweet, gentle Malina. Only his, his love, his salvation. His angel~

“Saint Ignatius?” Virgil suddenly entered the room, abruptly interrupting their wonderful solitude with a question. Confusion was written on his face.

“Yes, Saint Ignatius. His sermons were often held in my church. He valued peace more, but also participated in battles. They say he died an honorable death in one of the battles near Milestorm. Or rather, he disappeared, but our clergy are sure that if he is not fighting, then he is feasting near the God-Emperor.”

Vergil, who was listening attentively to the girl, stood for some time with a thoughtful expression on his face. Before bursting out laughing. Luka thought about shutting the freak up, but changed his mind as soon as the frightened Malina pressed herself against him. Yes, that’s better, closer…

“Good propaganda in the Imperium. Or rather, good training.” - the man smiled sarcastically before lying down on the bed. He was still laughing. - "Feasting near the God-Emperor."

It was really funny. And Luka wanted to laugh too and even go tell the crew about the noble fighter Ignatius. But the look of the upset girl stopped him. The lamenter slowly ran his hand through the girl's dark hair. She immediately looked at him.

He wanted to devour her.

"Do you want to pray?"

Malina prayed. Luka told her that he did it silently. Since he had something to say to the Corpse on Throne (for example, that chemotherapy of the Astartes was the most idiotic decision and his former brothers are pathetic). But he just watched the girl with her eyes closed, pressing her hands to her forehead.

"Sure," - a soft, trusting smile blossomed on her lips.

He loves her so much.

***

Baphomet was disappointed when Virgil asked him for a safe sleeping pill. Not the kind that makes the victim have nightmares and make their eyes pop out of their sockets. Not a drug that makes the flesh boil like meat on burning oil.

He had to explain for a very long time what he wanted. But the main thing is that the disappointed apothecary still gave him the remedy he needed, which the girl took along with the fruit drink. And looking at how soundly she was sleeping, the man understands that his suffering in the stuffy office was worth it.

Malina was quietly snoring, burying her face in her soft pillow. Her eyelashes were gently trembling. Saliva was almost ready to fall from her lips. Virgil wanted to get it out. Which he probably did when he stuck his black tongue into her pink mouth.

Luka insisted that they not touch Malina ahead of time. To give her time to assimilate, get used to the new home, get used to them. She is not a temporary pleasure, she will be with them forever. And if earlier Virgil reluctantly endured, now he himself was ready to wait. The girl is either a psyker or a saint of the Corpse on the Throne, she was able to awaken tender feelings in him.

But while she sleeps, the space marine could at least indulge himself a little. He did not penetrate her, did not even use her tights. He just looked. This was the first time he decided to use her mouth. Apparently, the leader's words excited him too much.

“The next target is the forge world of Hephaestus-VI. Huron Blackheart intends to get as many weapons as possible and is not averse to reining in the Imperials. Two in one. The battle will be hard, but that's part of the fun, isn't it?”

The laughter that followed throughout the war hall confirmed his words.

“And then we will have a feast.”

A feast. A feast. Rivers of blood and meat, moans and cries of supplication, excesses and temptations, a reward after no less delightful slaughter, genocide. All this was soon awaiting him. And Bacchus, pleased with a slightly calmer Virgil and finally controlled Luka, not only allowed him to take the second one with him (Luka was glad like a child). But also allowed him to take Malina.

“I would never have believed in my life that all you two need is a wet cunt.”

No. Virgil and Luka only needed Malina. Although he would never say this out loud while everyone was awake. Only when they were asleep, when they became vulnerable. Only then could Virgil give free rein to his hidden feelings.

The quiet moan that escaped the lips of the sleeping girl sent shivers down the man's spine. He was too carried away. The man stuck his mouth out, allowing the girl to gulp air before attacking her lips again.

Licking her teeth clean and sucking in the saliva that had collected in his mouth. Playing with the limp tongue that was not only unable to resist, but even able to keep up with him. He just wanted to devour her.

Virgil, restraining himself from pushing his tongue further down her throat, sucked on the girl's lips, swollen from kisses. Enjoying that she was in his hands. Enjoying control. Dominance. Her submission and quietness.

Malina doesn't even realize what kind of monster is sitting above her. What it's doing to her body. That it's ready to tear apart anyone who dares to offend her. That he needed nothing but her beating red heart under her ribs.

Delicious, tasty little mortal. And all his.

"And what are you doing with her?"

Almost all his.

“Are you blind or do you need an explanation of what grown men do with pretty girls?” the furious traitor hissed. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to take her, I’m not an idiot. But there was no talk of kissing.”

“Too much. She’ll find out.” Luka’s blue eyes glittered furiously. His pupils almost disappeared when he looked at her reddened lips. Virgil almost cringed. Crazy bastard.

“Just tell her it’s all about the fruit drink and she’ll believe it.” Virgil relaxed as he saw Luka calm down. “Hah, and I almost thought you were worried about me stealing her first kiss. Do you really not love her as much as you said?”

The silence that followed the question and the scarlet cheeks were the best answer.

“Well, well, and he's accusing me.” - the man scratched his bald head irritably, trying to hide his disappointment in everything concerning Malina. The first one would always be the lamenter. - “And when?”

“When we brought her to the ship. I pecked her.” - Luka shrugged his shoulders as if nothing had happened.

“But I had a tongue!” - boyish joy almost overwhelmed the former flesh tearer, but quickly dissipated.

“I didn’t want to rush things on the first day. With the tongue, it was on the seventh night.” - the boy’s pale, freckled face turned red like a tomato, and his eyes sparkled. - “It lasted two seconds, but it was magical.”

A cheeky, cunning, stupid puppy. He made up the rules himself, but still breaks them. And yet, Bacchus was right. Only with the appearance of Malina did Luka become more manageable. If before he was simply the best warrior, now he got the opportunity not only to be the first to board, but also to enter the main halls of the Feast. Taking the girl away from him would be simply blasphemy in the opinion of the entire crew.

“It doesn’t matter, the first kiss will only count when she’s conscious. Eurydice reported we’ll be arriving on Hephaestus VI soon. And then there’ll be a feast. Bacchus said to bring Malina. Perhaps it’s the perfect time to finally make her ours.”

“Yes… she’ll be mine soon.” Luka whispered almost blessedly, ignoring Virgil. Bastard. So be it. He was only going to touch the girl when she was asleep anyway. No great loss.

For now, they needed to prepare for the massacre.

***

Luka and Virgil had strictly forbidden Malina to leave the quarters. Even on the very first day. But they reminded her of the rules again when they left the ship. As Luka said, Hephaestus-VI was attacked by heretics and they, the faithful servants of the God-Emperor, came to the rescue.

As he says.

The battle promised to last a long time. Therefore, they prepared everything necessary for the girl. If for some reason the operation lasted longer than expected, then she only needed to press a button. And then they would bring her food. The main thing is to hide in the bath.

But as Virgil said, putting the device on the shelf, this would only happen if all the food ran out. And there was enough of it in the quarters to live well and healthy for a whole month. So the girl hoped not to meet other inhabitants of the ship.

Two weeks had already passed.

It was hard to admit, but Malina realized that she missed them. It didn't mean that she wasn't afraid of them. She still was and would be. But over the time she spent with them (a month or two?) she had gotten used to them. They protected her.

Virgil was a monster, but he never dared to hurt her. He hardly spoke to her. If he had dark desires for her, he kept them deep inside. In the darkest night, when she couldn't see him.

And Luka... he loved her. He loved her. He cared for her. And even if Malina knew that the smell of blood followed him. And even if she didn't know his worst side. But she saw his smile. Cute freckles and blue eyes. Blue as the sky of her home world.

They were a new home in every sense of the word.

A sudden crash pulled the girl out of her thoughts. Malina looked at the door with fear. She heard moans and sighs coming from the hallway. But it was not like before. Not those distant screams that haunted her in distant nightmares.

Someone was right behind the door.

She should stay inside. She should hide in the bathtub. Turn on the water and take a shower. Wait for the sounds to fade. Wait for it to go away. But Malina's legs wouldn't obey. She followed the words pouring out of the mouth of... a man? Yes, it was a man.

He sounded like a boy. But old enough to join the army. Old enough and educated enough to know and memorize not just a prayer. But a sermon of the saints. And Malina herself knew that sermon quite well for her status.

It was the sermon of Saint Ignatius.

“And, ah, I saw, I saw the Saint herself. Descended from heaven at His call. And her light f-f-filled me. My soul sang. And I understood that H-His w-will is still, s-still, ah, s-still…”

“Strong,” the girl finished, pressing herself against the door. Malina herself did not notice how she did it.

“Not strong. Hard. Wait. W-what? W-who is there? Y-you here?” - Hearing the girl moan, the man pressed himself harder against the door, judging by the sounds. Scarlet blood slowly seeps over the threshold, forming a tiny puddle. - “Y-you believe in the God-Emperor? They also captured you? Are you safe?”

“Y-yes.” - the captive felt her heart beat with anxiety. But Luke and Virgil continued to play the defenders of the Imperium with her. She had no need to lie, no need.

“Oh, I thought, I-, ah, oh,” the man on the other side of the door was gasping for breath. With every sound he made, he was becoming more and more afraid. Malina realized that the prisoner was looking around. As if he was being followed. - “P-please, open the door for me. I-I was tortured. I-I, d-don’t even know how I c-could get out.”

Malina stared at the huge iron door. At that moment, it looked gigantic. The girl had never felt so small as at that moment. So defenseless. But she was protected. They were taking care of her. She just had to stay inside.

“C-can you hear me? H-help me.” - the man’s voice trembled. He was crying.

“I-I can’t. I can’t.” - the girl whispered, moving away from the gates leading to hell, back to her bed. Maybe this was a test? They wanted to make sure Malina was behaving well? She's good. She's very good, she won't open the door. Mom said not to talk to strangers.

Luke and Virgil will be angry.

"P-please open the door, they're close. P-please." The man was openly crying, weakly knocking on the door.

Sitting down by the bed, the girl only pressed her head closer to her knees, covering her ears. If only not to hear his pleas. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she prayed. But not to the God-Emperor. Not to the forces of Chaos. She just wanted Luka and Virgil to return to her quickly. The boy’s sobs and the girl's were almost in sync. Then the sound of feet was heard. And a nasty human laugh.

"No, no, no. Don't touch me, no. GOD-EMPEROR!"

But the God-Emperor did not answer his prayers. The boy continued to scream as people like him carried him away. All that was left was a pool of blood. And a girl crying in the dark. Who could not save him. Only delay the inevitable.

But she could save herself.

***

"Hey, hey, what happened?" - Luka gently stroked the back of the crying girl, who immediately threw herself into his arms. Not paying attention to his bloody armor from the battle.

Vergil, just like the lamenter, looked at Malina in surprise, clinging to the golden armor. He threw the bag with trophies and gifts for the girl on his bed before starting to take off his armor.

"There was a man here. He said that he served the God-Emperor. He said that he was being tortured by heretics." - The girl, with red eyes from tears, looked at Luka, not noticing his frightened expression. - "I didn't believe him! I didn't open the door. Angel, I was so scared."

The men looked at the poor girl, unable to utter a word. Was this the blessing of the Four Gods or the God-Emperor himself? No. But the red corsairs knew that they were incredibly lucky with Malina. No one would replace her.

"Everything is fine, everything is fine. The bastard has already been taken to prison. You did well not to let him in." - the blond tenderly grinned, stroking the girl's hair. At that moment, he could hardly be called an angel. - "We are proud of you."

"Yes." - Virgil exhaled. - "Good girl."

That day, they restrained themselves and allowed the girl to fall asleep quietly on her bed. The feast was approaching. They could wait a little longer.

[ladybugsimblr]

Architectural Digest Fall/AD Open Door Part 4

Rebi: "Welcome to My House!" Lyric: “We did that part already. We have to say welcome to our rooms now." Rebi: "OK. Rebi's room?" Lyric: "Yes we're going to your room but say Welcome to the Squad Side." Legend: “Squad Side is the best side!” Rebi: "Squaaaad!"

-

Lyric's Room

"At first I wanted my room to be really zen and neutral [Legend: BORING!] Omg shut up. Get out! [Rebi: You can't say shut up.] Anyway! Mom and LB convinced me to have fun and I’m glad they did. I love the mix of patterns and colors. My favorite thing is the cheetah print sofa. It's giving funky and fabulous."

Legend's Room

"The riz levels are very high in this room. [Lyric: Legend please.] Hater is not a good color on you. Don't be mad because I have the best room in the whole house. My favorite things are the computer set up and the wall of posters. LB said it was organized chaos and I think that really describes my brain."

Rebi's Room

"Welcome to My House! [Lyric: OMG I think we practiced that line too much.] I like my big girl bed and my pictures and my stuffies and my rock horsie and my piano and my books and my dress. [Legend: Ok that's enough likes.] It's soooooo cute. I like your shoes and your hair. I don't like DJ shoes. He not my friend. He very silly. Ok byyye. You go downstairs now."

Cover Story - Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 6 - 7

[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."

[respectthepetty]

How does it feel to stay winning Petty? Also who would've guessed that baby Barcode would be the one of the BOC boys to collect kisses from all the homies!?

Anon, I appreciate you sending this because, right now, I feel like an elite status female rapper. Like CL from 2NE1 rapped in their 2011 hit, "I am the best", Be On Cloud owns me, and y'all can't tell me shit about this show.

I know I have some Wild Ass Theories and I'm always clownin' in these BL streets, but I love when my theories actually hit their target like . . .

When I knew Teacher Chadok was in a relationship with Teacher Dika since the first episode of The Eclipse.

When I knew Kanghan's house was going to be robbed and his dad would be shot since the third episode of Dangerous Romance, even though I thought Saifah would do it.

When I knew Pat was working with Joke to win over Zo since the first episode of Hidden Agenda.

I love making Wild Ass Theories no matter how crazy they are, like my belief that the twins' dad is involved in this whole murder and sex work plot in Playboyy. No matter what happened in this past episode, I still believe it and am eagerly awaiting the upcoming chaos to see how hard I clowned.

Which is why I LOVE Dead Friend Forever.

I want the record to state that no matter what happens after episode seven, that at this exact moment in time, I love this show. It makes me happy to be alive at the same time this is airing, and I'm not joking. I want to remember that at one point, this show was everything to me, and even if it goes down hill, it had all my attention in the first seven episodes. I want to appreciate it right now because regardless of what happens, it did everything right in the first half.

With the way some shows keep losing their footing in the end, sometimes we forget how good they were in the beginning, and the emo in me doesn't want to forget this feeling. Some of my favorite movies are Scream, Heathers, and Jawbreaker so this show has been giving me the explicitly queer version of kill your frenemies since the very first episode, and I love it.

My internal alarm went off the second Tee got upset that Phi was speaking to White in episode one, then the dark hand touched him making him enemy #1. I didn't like the way he told White he needed to obey him, and I feel like the dark hand wasn't too pleased with it either. It was a vibe.

And now Non has a hurt hand in the past from falling off the bike . . .

Then, Jin was the main character of the previous film, so he was either the killer or the biggest baddie.

But Phi was just so sus, that I clocked him as a killer.

Which meant Phi and Jin were the killers, but Tan has no backstory and people with no history are intentionally hiding it, so they can kill everyone and peace out.

So in my mind, Tan and Phi were regulated to the killers, Tee was the second to last to die, which I'm hoping it's by his boyfriend White who he thinks disobeys him, and the rest of the squad would die as needed. Which left Jin to be the baddie.

All of my theories could blow up at any second because we don't know if Jin actually sent that video or if his computer fizzled out before it finished uploading, so he could still be a killer avenging Non instead of a baddie who wronged Non (but he took the video and that is messed up regardless of what he planned to do with it).

But either way, I'm hoping it comes down to Phi and Jin in that forest because the show started with them.

And I don't think Jin realizes who Phi is to Non since Jin never got a good look at Phi's face in the past.

The Twitter folks spotted that Phi's dad was the police chief from the letters the boys got calling them in for interrogation in episode six.

And now the knife from episode two is showing up in the past in Non's backpack.

Up until this point, I feel the show has laid out a solid story with a good cast, and I think Be On Cloud relied on their KinnPorsche casting to throw people off in this show because who expected Us to be doomed in the first episode? That was like Drew Barrymore dying at the beginning of Scream.

People have felt off about JJ's character, but the show wouldn't really have JJ do anything bad to sweet Barcode, right?

And Barcode and Ta being paired together was a pipe dream for the Macau x Porchay shippers, so it could never happen here!

Especially because Ta and Copper won The Hidden Character, which meant they were going to be the main pair of this show, right?

WRONG!

Barcode is gonna be involved in some fucked up shit, and according to those MDL comments, people are realizing they messed up making any assumptions before this show started based on what the actors previously did.

I truly feel like BOC looked at its lineup and said "Baby Barcode was babygirled so hard for the past two years that the audience won't even think his character is capable of such things"

and I love that for us.

BOC gave these youngsters (19-23 in age) a script from Dr. Sammon and the Pit Babe writers and said "go HAM, bitches"

And the audience stays winning.

This isn't about my Wild Ass Theories coming true. This is an appreciation post for what this show has given to me up until this point - a good mystery.

Every week I have more questions and none of them feel like they will go unanswered. Is Non dead? Did Jin actually upload the video? Is Tan a killer? Why did Phi hook up with Jin? Will White finally snap, crackle, and pop like a bag of Rice Krispies treats for the mere fact that he simply wanted a nice weekend getaway with his boyfriend and now has to deal with all this bullshit?

But most importantly, when did Phi realize he was going to kill all of them after making them run around scared for their lives?

Because by time the show makes it back to the present day, I'm sure we're all going to want to watch these kids suffer in the worst ways possible.

Manipulate, Murder, Mayhem

[im-a-wonderling]

Clumsy, Clumsy ~ George Weasley

This is part two of Is It Still Punishment if It Was Worth It?, so be sure to read that first!

Warnings: bullying

Word count: 2.6k

“Don’t make the mistake of forgetting your essay on Angel’s Trumpet Draught for next class,” Snape said in his cool snarl, the dim shadows of the potions classroom throwing sinister shadows onto his face. “I expect no less than 24 inches of parchment.” After letting his words sink in, he sat at his desk. “Dismissed.” 

The other Potions N.E.W.T.s students shoved their textbooks into their bags, chatter filling the air as they filed out of the chairs, leaving their cauldrons where they were. 

As I slowly placed my ink bottle into my book bag, I kept my eyes on Cassius Warrington, a massive Slytherin in my year. He had a handsome face, to be sure, but it was his recently updated status as a member of the Inquisitor Squad that I cared about. 

Before my detention with Umbridge, I didn’t concern myself with the Inquisitor Squad. Their blatant Slytherin favoritism added with my natural rule-following tendencies made any concern of them irrelevant. But now, thanks to my detention last night, I’d been thrust into the spotlight, and I couldn’t count on that combination any longer. I couldn’t rely on them to simply take away House points either, because taking points away from Slytherin would punish them as much as it would me. They would likely find other, more creative avenues of punishment. 

“Y/L/N,” said a cold voice. 

“Yes, Professor Snape?” I said, looking up to see the potions master looming next to me. 

“Do you have a reason for loitering in my classroom?”

I immediately put my bag strap over my arm, gathering my parchment and my textbook into my arms. “No, sir, sorry, sir.” I ducked my head and shuffled out of the classroom, subtly glancing both ways before following the rest of the students up the stairs to the Great Hall for lunch. 

I only made it five steps.

BANG!

I fell forward, only managing to catch myself before my nose hit the edge of a stair. The contents of my book bag, however, were not so lucky. The thuds of my books, the flip of my rolls of parchment, and the crash of my inkpot created a symphony of chaos, but the only encore was laughter. 

“Clumsy, clumsy,” said a gruff voice. 

I looked up into the leering face of Warrington. Cheeks burning, I reached for my wand to clean up the mess and hurry past, but it’d been in my book bag and was now likely among the mess. 

“Don’t go and do anything stupid,” warned the voice of Pansy Parkinson, who flanked Warrington on one side with her arms crossed and her nose in the air while Gregory Goyle stood on Warrington’s other side, a menacing smile on his face.

I lifted my hands, showing I meant no harm. 

Warrington’s mouth spread, revealing his perfectly aligned teeth with such malevolence, he looked like a bloodthirsty beast. “Aren’t you going to clean up your mess?” Pansy giggled, looking thrilled at the prospect of watching me collect my stuff. 

They wanted to see me humiliated?

Fine.

When one’s greatest care isn’t pride, it costs nothing to grovel. 

Staying on my hands and knees, I grabbed my empty book bag. My copy of Magical Drafts and Potions had fallen open to reveal a picture of Arsenius Jigger, the author. I reached out for it. A black dress shoe nudged it out of my reach. I crawled forward another step, reaching again, and again it was pushed out of reach, this time accompanied by derisive laughter. 

The third time, the black dress shoe didn’t intervene, allowing me to pick up my potions textbook. After hesitating, I picked up A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration without any intervention from my spectators. And my rolls of parchment. And the few wayward quills. 

Soon, the only thing on the stairs beside my knees was the puddle of ink that was gradually flowing down to the bottom of the staircase. If I could just find my wand, I could clean it up with the Scouring charm.

I looked up to see Warrington twirling a thin hickory stick between his fingers. 

My wand. 

“Oh, d’you want this back?” Warrington asked, feigning as if he’d just realized what he was playing with. 

A show, I reminded myself, give them a show. “Please,” I said, infusing my voice with panic. I considered making my chin tremble but decided that was the wrong kind of pathetic to pretend to be. 

My wand froze. “Clean up the ink first.” 

Mimicking desperation, I looked down at the puddle, as if I hadn’t the faintest idea what to do. Then, I slid my cloak off my shoulders, dabbing at the black cloud. The house elves would be able to clean the ink easily, it was only a momentary situation. I was thankful I left my potion ingredients in the potions room, otherwise it might be frog livers that I was cleaning instead of ink. 

Finally, I stood at the bottom of the stairs, holding my dripping cloak with one hand and my bag with the other, looking up at the deviant expressions far above me. “Can…can I have my wand back?” I asked timidly. 

“Put your cloak back on.”

I lowered my gaze to the floor to contain my glower at Pansy’s order. Slowly, I set down my bag and threaded my arms through the arms of my cloak. Looks like the house elves would be cleaning my cardigan and skirt as well. I looked up at Warrington again with as pitiful an expression as I could muster. 

Warrington’s black dress shoe slid forward. “Kiss it.”

He wanted me to kiss his shoe? I looked down at the article in question. The dress shoes were fairly clean, even if they were clearly polished. The momentary discomfort of the taste of shoe polish in my mouth was tame compared to what I expected them to do, so I knew that wasn’t all he was planning. 

If anything, it was highly likely that when I got my face close enough to Warrington’s foot, he’d kick in my nose. 

Grimacing, I leaned forward, already brainstorming which spell would be best to set a broken nose. 

“What’s going on?” 

The familiar voice from behind me made my spine straighten, and for the first time, I felt the shame that Warrington so desperately wanted me to. 

“Nothing, Malfoy,” I spat before any of the others could speak. “Go away.”

“Malfoy,” Warrington said with a calculating smile, “come join us, won’t you?”

The inconsiderate blond climbed the steps to join the other three, and I glared up at him. “This doesn’t concern you.” Malfoy hadn’t talked to me since he reported me, though not for lack of trying. I didn’t want to allow a conversation until I’d formed some sort of response to his actions. 

Kneeling before Malfoy as he stood beside Warrington, I certainly had things to say, but nothing that would make the current situation any better. 

“Y/L/N just took a tumble on the stairs,” Warrington said, looking at Malfoy. “She was about to thank me for keeping her wand safe.” The four Slytherins all looked down at me, Warrington expectantly, Pansy nastily, Goyle bawdily, and Malfoy confusedly. 

I tried to remind myself that I was trying to keep my head down and of the merits of complying. But it was one thing to comply with mistreatment when it came from notorious tormentors; it was quite another to comply with mistreatment from a friend. And with Malfoy standing above me, all I wanted to do was curse the lot of them. 

“Kiss it,” Warrington hissed, “or I’ll go find that brother of yours and make him do it.”

I forced myself to hesitate instead of immediately throwing myself down onto the stone steps and obeying. While Warrington laid down the winning hand, I couldn’t let him know that particular hand could win all future games. 

I inched myself closer to his shoes.

“Is there a problem here?”

I closed my eyes, denying the possibility that the owner of that voice was interrupting this stand-off between myself and the Inquisitor Squad. But no, when I opened my eyes once more, the Slytherins had parted to reveal the boy at the top of the stairs.

George Weasley. 

“None of your concern, Weasel-bee,” Malfoy snarled. 

George looked down at me, kneeling on stone steps in front of four members of the Inquisitor Squad, and I knew he was planning something dumb. Go away, I ordered him with a stern look. Let me handle this.

George casually stepped down two steps, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the wall. “Y/N, I thought you were going to meet me in the Transfiguration classroom so McGonagall can help us with our project.”

Clever to mention a seventh-year class that George and I were in but Warrington wasn’t. Foolish to think that mentioning McGonagall would have any sway with this crowd. 

“I’ll be right there,” I said through gritted teeth, once again shooting him a look to tell him to get lost. 

Once again proving his inability to listen to basic directions, George walked down another step. “I think Y/L/N needs her wand for Transfiguration.”

Did he recognize my wand in Warrington’s hand? Or did he listen before he revealed himself? How long had he been listening? I wrapped my arms around my middle, feeling more vulnerable than I had before.

Warrington let out a short laugh. “It’s four against one, Weasley. Don’t think you’ll win.”

“Maybe I won’t win,” George replied, a cocky grin on his face, “but I can make your winning hurt.” George pulled his wand out. “And it’s four against two actually.”

I shut my eyes, ready to curse every Weasley ancestor for their descendant’s actions. George had clearly allied himself with me. It didn’t matter if I accepted the alliance because the damage was already done. When I opened my eyes again, Warrington, Pansy, and Goyle were still staring George down, but Malfoy was looking at me with a look of betrayal.

“Ten points from Gryffindor,” Warrington drawled. “And unless you want to make it another ten–”

George slipped his hand into his pocket and then raised his hand high. 

BOOM!

The area filled with green smoke and an odor so putrid, I had to cover my nose. A hand seized my forearm, and if it hadn’t had freckles on it, I would’ve clawed at it with my nails. The hand dragged me up the stairs so quickly, I nearly tripped.

Then, once I’d finally gotten my feet under me, the hand dragged me sharply to the right and into a cramped room I’d never seen before.

George slid whatever trap door it was shut, throwing us into darkness.

“Lumos,” George muttered, and a small light threw his face into view. 

“I cannot believe you–”

“Shush!” George leaned his ear against the door he’d just shut. 

“Warrington still has my–”

Without budging from his spot, George held up his hand, showing me my wand. “Now will you be quiet?” he hissed. 

I was getting real tired of getting shushed by George Weasley, but unfortunately, he was always in the middle of misguided heroics when he was doing so. And he was right, now that we were silent, I could hear the shouts outside the door.

I took the opportunity to look around the tiny space. It was about the size of a normal Hogwarts broom cupboard, but there were no cleaning supplies in sight. Despite the lack of contents, the stone interior sported no cobwebs or dust that I could see from the minimal light emanating from George’s wand. 

The voices, still audible, grew farther away, and I saw George relax a bit. 

“I didn’t need saving,” I whispered, grabbing my wand from George’s grip. “I had it all under control.”

George rounded on me. “Were you actually going to kiss his shoe?” 

So George did overhear the conversation before he disrupted it. Suddenly looking in his eyes was much more difficult than a moment before, but I didn’t look away, even as my face flamed. “It’s none of your business.”

His head recoiled, as if physically pushed by my words. “You were.” Anger transformed his face, which I didn't like half as well as the normal easygoing smile. “I can’t believe you’d just lie down and do whatever they say!” His words might not have accused me of cowardice, but his eyes did. 

I folded my arms, exasperated. “I weighed the possibilities and made an informed decision.”

“And so you allowed them to bully you?” George asked. 

“Just because I didn’t do what you would do doesn’t make my actions wrong!” I snapped. 

“Just because you thought about it first doesn’t mean it was the right decision.”

I scowled. “Just because you got to be a hero doesn’t mean that your decision was the right decision either!”

“You’re lucky I showed up when I did!” 

“Oh, of course I couldn’t have handled it myself, could I? Guess what, Weasley,” I stabbed a finger into his chest, “I’ve survived over six years at Hogwarts without you, and I will continue to do so without interference.”

“But now you’re not just trying to survive,” George argued, grabbing my hand and holding it away from his chest. “You’re trying to keep your brother safe at your own expense.”

“And there’s nothing you can do about that,” I fumed. “If I decide that submitting is the best way to keep Clem safe, I will let the every single student in this school walk over me and thank them afterwards for good measure!”

George let out a huff, but the longer we frowned at each other with blazing eyes, the more his mouth curled into a wry grin. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to restock on dungbombs and follow you around for the rest of the year.”

“I’m not some damsel in distress,” I replied acerbically, reaching out to push the door open. 

George grabbed my hand. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Leaving.”

“Not yet.”

I fixed him with a look. “We shouldn’t linger for them to find us. We should go find a better hiding spot, a more secure one that isn’t so close.”

George’s surprise quickly morphed into amusement. “You’ve never been in here before, have you?”

I didn’t like that he clearly knew something I didn’t. “No, why?”

“This door’s enchanted,” George replied. “If the room’s occupied, the door’s charmed not to open from the outside.” George’s words seemed dependable enough, but I didn’t trust the smirk on his face. It was obvious he found something amusing, but the source was not obvious. Unless he was laughing at me. 

“What is this place?” I asked warily.

George grinned, but it wasn’t his regular goofy smile where his whole face lit up with enjoyment. His lips stayed closed, and his chin dipped down slightly as he waggled his eyebrows. 

There’s only one thing that could mean. 

“You dragged me to a make-out spot?!” I shrieked.

The only answer was George’s shoulders shaking with barely repressed laughter. 

Ignoring the butterflies that spontaneously erupted in my stomach, I shoved the door open. “I’m getting out of here.” I stepped outside, eyes darting every which way to spy any enemies. 

“What, is snogging Warrington’s boot preferable to snogging a friend?” George called from behind me as I stormed towards the Great Hall.

“I don’t snog my friends!” I yelled over my shoulder at him, not bothering to turn around fully. 

Maybe I was imagining it, but as I climbed the steps to the Great Hall, I could’ve sworn I heard George say: “Well, that’s a bloody shame.”

-

Read the next part here!

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

[intimidating-fettuccine]

could I request more teen reader with the proxies just like general HC or scenario of stuff the squad gets up too

You absolutely can, I love this stuff. Wholesome found family content is one of my favorites.

Squad cooking lessons. I don't know why this was the first thing that popped into my head, but it did. Tim is one of the best chefs in the mansion, and he already gives Toby lessons every now and then, so he's started doing group lessons with you, Brian, and Toby so that he can teach you all at once. He lets you guys choose what you want to learn how to make, and he'll step by step teach you how to make the recipe, and he goes as slow as you guys need. It doesn't matter how well your dish turns out because he's just so happy and proud that you were able to make something, and he'll ruffle your hair and congratulate you. He's the hardest on Toby though, you guys always tease him if something goes really wrong with his dish.

Squad t-shirts???? Like you know those shirts where one says "I'm with stupid" and the other one says "I'm stupid"??? You guys have equivalents to that. I didn't know where this headcanon was going so I don't know exactly what all four of the shirts would say, but you guys definitely have a shirt combination that works and you wear them whenever you go out in public as a squad. Also, once you get those shirts, Tim totally gets all of you matching flannels. Tim LOVES flannels, and right now since it's fall it's peak flannel season he wears them all the time, so he makes sure you all have nice, high-quality flannels that match the ones he likes. Don't point out to him how adorable of an idea that was, he gets very embarrassed and tries to deny it.

Tim also takes you out fishing with him. I've said before that the proxies go out fishing with each other once a week or like once every other week since fishing is Tim's favorite hobby (and the creeps view it as a high honor if he invites you), so you get to go fishing with Tim when he invites the other two. It's a time for relaxation and no phones (except for group photos and pictures of whatever fish you catch), where you all just enjoy the peace of nature and the lake. If you ask Tim for fishing tips (even if you already know how to fish please ask him), he gets so excited and he'll help you set up your rod and help teach you how to cast your line and how and when to real it in. This is PEAK bonding time for Tim, it makes him so overjoyed to be out there with all of you fishing and having a good time. Plus, if you catch anything he feels SO proud and he gives you a big hug and takes a picture of you holding your catch and probably adds it to a folder he has of everyone and anything they've caught.

Also??? Maybe an underrated squad thing, but just grocery shopping together. You guys put together the list as a group, and you go to the store and it's just such a generic family activity to do, but it's so enjoyable, especially since it's something that Toby never got to do growing up, so the four of you enjoy going together to have some nice domestic happiness with all the stress and chaos in your lives. Plus, with all of you there it makes it easier to beg Tim for extra things like chocolate milk, or pizza rolls, or candy, or whatever it was that Tim said definitely didn't need to be on the list in the first place. If you and Toby beg him for it enough, Brian will smile and insist that it couldn't hurt to get it, so he'll sigh dramatically and get it for you guys because he loves you and he's bad at saying no sometimes. Plus Tim likes it when you guys all come along because then it's easier to get people to help him carry in the fuck ton of groceries you need to feed over twenty people in the mansion. You and Toby usually turn it into a competition to see who can carry in the most at one time, and it makes Tim worry about you guys dropping things, but Brian thinks it's really cute and wholesome. He always cheers you on and hopes that you win.

[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.