#the rest of the batch probably look up to and admire him so much and think he’s SO COOL

[here-comes-the-moose]

Echo during his time with the 501st: doing body shots, dancing on tables, blowing things up in the barracks with Fives, creating chaos with Fives, doing keg stands, complaining about them leaving the club “too early” even though it’s four in the morning, being the reason that new rules were added to the reg manuals, generally being an absolute terror

Echo during most of his time with the Bad Batch: tucking kids in, telling bedtime stories, always carrying healthy snacks, in bed by nine, putting people in time-out, telling “kids” to behave, tending to sick “kids”, being the only one to put their foot down and shut down any shenanigans, generally being a mom and an absolute angel (of course this is when he isn’t being the absolute badass that he is and always had been since let’s not forget that he’s an ARC Trooper)

[ariestrxsh]

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 content warning: smut, innocence corruption, purity kink, sexualization of religious imagery, teasing, masturbation, voyeurism, mentions of sex toys, mostly just really suggestive, sub!virgin!matt, experienced!pervy!reader

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 author's note: don't read if you're religious. it's going to offend you a lot if you do, and i really don't want to offend anyone. this fic is a bit of a slow burn with a lot of lead up and sexual tension before they actually do anything. :) i anticipate this storyline to have several parts.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: a good little christian boy named matt moves in next door, and once you find out he's a virgin, you test his morals, determined to tease him until he caves.

the song was requested by @greer2301 💖 (i hope i don't disappoint you with the storyline, and i'm sorry it took me so long to get to this one!)

me & u part one

It was a Saturday afternoon in your suburban neighborhood, the summer sun beating down on your face directly overhead. You stood in your front yard in a solid white t-shirt and jean shorts with a hand to your forehead, shading your eyes from the brightness, and your other hand on your hip as you watched a giant uhaul pull into the house next door that had been up for sale for as long as you'd lived there. An old, orange truck followed right behind it.

Were you finally getting new neighbors?

You watched as a handsome brunette with tattoos who looked to be about your age got out of the rust-colored vehicle. He was in a white tank top and faded blue jeans, and he was really cute. An older man, who you presumed was probably his dad, emerged from the driver's side of the uhaul.

The younger boy's blue eyes caught yours as he opened up the back of the truck to get out some boxes, and he shot you a shy smile and a small wave. You had to have him.

Several hours later, as the late afternoon sun was beginning to set in the sky, and after the boy and his father had a chance to unpack some of their belongings, you headed to your kitchen to bake a batch of chocolate chip cookies, so you'd have a reason to go over and talk to him. Maybe find out his name, maybe find out if he was single or not.

You got out milk, eggs, flour, and chocolate chips, and after mixing them all together, you portioned out perfect little dough blobs and stuck the pan into your oven, nearly burning yourself, and set a timer.

Once they were done baking, you beelined it for your new neighbor's house with a plate of fresh, homemade chocolate chips cookies and a glass of milk.

When you stepped onto the lawn, the blue-eyed boy was walking down the steps of his new porch, and he glanced up at you. "Hey. I'm your new neighbor. I saw you guys unpacking your stuff. I figured you could stand to take a break from unloading boxes and have some cookies," you said, offering him the plate.

"Hey, thanks," he said smiling, accepting the plate and the glass from you. He thought you were really pretty, and talking to you really brought out his shy side.

"What's your name?" You asked, studying all his attractive features up close in the golden hour lighting, his perfectly-shaped nose, his pretty teeth, and his luscious, pink lips. You loved the way the sun was hitting his gorgeous blue eyes.

"Matt," he responded timidly. You introduced yourself to himself as well. "You gonna invite me in?" You peeked over his shoulder and in through his doorway, walking past him and letting yourself in. "Uh, sure. There's not much in there yet," Matt replied, following you into his brand new house.

"Uh, sorry about the mess," Matt nervously apologized, gesturing towards the general disarray. "I get it. I've moved before," you responded understandingly. The walls were empty, and so was the rest of the room besides a kitchen table, some kitchen chairs, and several half-unpacked boxes, overflowing with dishes and kitchen appliances.

You admired the dark brown, hardwood flooring, the matching cabinets, and the gorgeous granite countertops. He placed the plate of cookies on the island in the center of the room and took a bite out of one. "Mmm. Still warm," he grinned at you, washing the sugary treat down with the milk you gave him.

"How old are you?" You asked him, your eyes drawn to his strong, veiny hands and his rings on his long, slender fingers. "Twenty-one," he told you. "Same," you responded while you watched him devour another one of your cookies. "These are really good," he complimented your baking, blushing and wiping a few crumbs from his mouth.

"Was that guy who was unloading stuff with you, your dad?" You asked him, and he nodded. "Yeah, he left to go get us some food for tonight," he mumbled in between bites.

"Naughty boy. Spoiling your dinner," you lowered your voice and smirked at him. You noticed his eyes subtly widen, and he stopped chewing for a second.

"You should show me your room," you seductively said, biting your lip. "Uh, sure. Again, there's not much in it," Matt shrugged, completely oblivious to your overt flirting.

You started up his stairs, admiring the sturdy banister, imagining how good it would feel to have him fuck you over it, and once you got to the top of the stairs, you turned around, noticing Matt behind you, his eyes glued to your ass.

You gave him a look that silently asked, like what you see? He pulled his gaze from your bottom to your eyes with a guilty look on his face like a puppy dog that had gone to the bathroom somewhere he shouldn't have.

"Which one's your room?" You asked him. "Third door on the left," he said, clearing his throat and trying to pretend he wasn't just checking you out. You led the way, even though you knew the layout even less than he did.

You turned the knob and pushed open his door. His bed was already set up with flannel sheets and throw pillows, and on the opposite wall, a desk with a laptop and a few books on it. As you peered out the window, you realized you had a direct view of his room from your room.

He had a connected bathroom, and as you wandered into there, you admired the sage green back splash of the shower through the transparent shower door. You imagined how steamy the two of you could make the glass.

Other than that, more scattered boxes decorated the area, some opened, some not.

"What are you gonna do with the place?" You wondered, pacing around his room. "I want to paint it," he said, scanning the room with his eyes. "What color?" You inquired, wandering back over towards the entrance to his room and subtly shutting and locking his door while he was distracted by deliberating your question.

"Still not sure. Wanted to go for something cooler, darker. Maybe a forest green or a stone blue. Something earthy," he mumbled, wondering if he had taken too long to answer your question. You could tell he was nervous and shy, and you found it extremely endearing.

"That sounds awesome. I'm gonna help you paint it," you stated, taking a step closer to him. "Sure, that'd be nice of you," he said agreeably. "What are you doing tomorrow? You should come see the badass treehouse I have in my backyard. It's really private up there. We can do anything you want," you chewed on your lip, looking him up and down.

"We can smoke some weed and just talk. Or smoke some weed and not talk," you said, standing on your tippy toes and whispering into his ear while you took your pointer finger and seductively caressed his chest. You noticed a small tent forming in his pants.

He liked how dominant and direct your demeanor was, but he was worried you may have misread his character. He had never smoked weed and had never had sex. Still, the way you spoke to him and touched him turned him on.

He grabbed a pillow off his bed and held it in front of his erection as if it were less obvious. "You'd better take care of that," you teased him, glancing down at his bulge. "Uh, I don't do that. My dad and I are going to church tomorrow morning," he swallowed anxiously, blushing at your observation.

"You don't what? You don't smoke, or you don't jerk off?" You asked, smirking at him. "Uh, I don't smoke," he nervously smiled. "Isn't it a sin to jerk off? You really are a naughty boy, aren't you?" You maliciously grinned at him. His breath caught in his throat, and he started to look at you in desperation, but he caught himself, immediately shifting his gaze around uncomfortably.

"You could come if you want," he offered, his eyes still darting around the room as if he were afraid to look at you. "I can cum if I want?" You teased him. "To church. You could come with us to church," he clarified, looking down and reaching behind his head with his tattooed arm to nervously rub the back of his neck. You loved making him nervous.

"Why? So you can watch me burst into flames?" You jumped at him, putting your fingers up behind your head, making devil horns while you playfully smiled at him, but he still jumped back, startled by your joke, and he nervously giggled at it once he realized you were probably kidding. A good little Christian boy.

"You know, you're cute enough that I'd consider going to church with you. But it's really hard to beat getting high in my treehouse and touching myself, so I think I'm gonna pass," you told him.

His jaw dropped and a needy expression overcame his face while he imagined you sitting on the floor of a treehouse, one hand holding a joint between your lips, and the other down the front of your unbuttoned denim shorts.

"Maybe I'll still be up there when church lets out," you tempted him. He couldn't believe how comfortable you were saying all that out loud. "You think I'm cute?" He asked, raising his eyebrows, still processing everything you'd just casually admitted in the last few seconds.

"Yeah, and you think I'm cute," you confidently stated, staring at the throw pillow in front of his pants. His cheeks turned a deep shape of red, and he wiped away a bead of sweat from his forehead.

Suddenly, you heard the low rumbling of an old truck and a car door shut. "Uh, I think my dad's home. I don't think we should be up here alone with my door shut and locked when he walks in," Matt said, wide-eyed.

He reached into his jeans to tuck his erection into his waistband. You watched in awe, hoping to get a peak, but he was too quick about it. He headed out of his room, and you trailed behind.

When his dad materialized through the front door, you and Matt were descending the stairs into the kitchen again. "Oh. Hi. You already made a friend, Matt?" His dad smiled at you, put the Cane's bag on the counter, and stuck out his hand for you to shake. His hands were rough and calloused. You daintily shook his hand, shot him an innocent smile, and introduced yourself.

"Yeah, she's our neighbor. She brought us over some cookies," Matt motioned towards the nearly empty plate. "I kinda ate most of them," he giggled. "How kind of you," the older man commented. "I'd offer you some food, but I only planned on feeding the two of us," he motioned towards his son.

"Oh, please. Don't worry. You guys moved in like six hours ago. I don't expect you to feed me," you responded. "I just wanted to pop in and introduce myself. Bring you something sweet," you innocently tilted your head at Matt's father.

"I'll give Matt my number in case you guys need any help unpacking or painting or anything," you grinned over at Matt. "Y-Yeah, sure," Matt stumbled over his words, fidgeting with his phone in his pocket, and handing it to you nervously.

You saved your contact in his phone with a peach emoji, a wet water emoji, and a heart beside your name, and when you handed it back to him, his eyes subtly widened, and he cleared his throat. "Thanks," he muttered. "I'll catch you around," you smiled and subtly winked at Matt, and then you saw yourself out to let the men enjoy their food and get a good night's rest after a long day of heavy lifting.

When you stepped out into the night, you got a closer look at their truck. It was a rust-colored Dodge Dakota from the 70's with a cross hanging in the rearview mirror, and there was a bible on the dashboard. You wondered just how strong Matt's morals were, and what you'd have to do to get them to bend - or even break - for you.

After Matt and his dad sat down at their table and ate together, Matt excused himself to go take a shower. It was the first time he'd had a bathroom connected to his room, and he appreciated the convenience. It took him a few minutes to figure out how the temperature and pressure dials worked, and once he did, he stood underneath the hot water, letting it hit his sore back and soothe the aching muscles in his neck.

He washed his hair, and ran his soapy hands all over the rest of his body. He tried to focus on cleaning himself, but he couldn't help that he was having dirty thoughts. He tried to push his impure fantasies about you to the back of his mind, but the more he tried to run away from them, the more they persisted.

He was pretty sure by now that you were flirting with him. He'd felt the sexual tension between the two of you while you guys stood in his locked bedroom together. He wished his dad hadn't come home when he did, because he wanted to know just how bold you were and how far you would have taken it.

He started getting hard again, and no matter how hard he fought the urge, his hand had a mind of its own. It was the one sin Matt was weakest to - lust. His fingers slithered down below his waist, and he started massaging his cock while his mind was flooded with you.

He imagined what it would have been like to see under your clothes, how your lips would have felt against his neck, and how your fingers would have felt wrapped around his dick like he had his now.

He pumped his hand back and forth over his length, caressing every vein and coaxing a few whimpers from his pretty mouth. Matt was saving himself for marriage, but he could still fantasize about you, right?

He pictured you on top of him with your breasts bouncing in his face. He imagined you straddling him, how wet and tight you'd feel enveloping his rod, and how pornographic your moans would sound. He fisted his cock urgently, his eyes rolling back and his jaw hanging open. The neediest sounds poured from Matt's lips as he replayed the way you sounded when you called him a naughty boy.

It didn't take much before ropes of cum were painting the shower floor, and Matt watched breathlessly as his hot, thick fluid mixed with the water and circled the drain. He immediately felt ashamed after, knowing God didn't make your body as beautiful as it was for Matt to fulfill his carnal desires with.

He figured you'd be disgusted with him if you ever knew. Little did he know, if you had any idea what he was doing behind his steamy shower door, you would have found it flattering.

He finished rinsing himself of his sin, and he grabbed a towel, one of the few things he had unpacked in his bathroom, wrapping it around his waist and stepping out of the shower.

It was right at this time that you were laying in your bed in the dark, trying to fall asleep when you rolled over and noticed Matt's bedroom light come on across the way. You caught a glimpse of Matt through your window in his room in just a towel, having just finished up in the shower.

You couldn't pull your eyes away from him. He looked so good with his hair all wet, and you admired his shirtless figure and the 'v' shaped lines that pointed down to his cock that you were dying to see.

You held your breath as he turned and dropped his towel. You couldn't see much, but you caught a glimpse of his bare ass for a few seconds before he slipped his pajama pants on, and you couldn't deny how cute it was.

Blissfully unaware that you could see him, he knelt down at his bedside and started to pray. You wondered if this was an every night occurrence, and for the most part it was, but Matt would spend an extra long time praying whenever he'd committed a lustful sin, which was more often than not. You peered at him from the comfort of your bedroom, wondering how good he'd look on his knees for you.

After about ten minutes of praying, Matt climbed to his feet, shut off his bedroom light, and crawled between his sheets to drift off to dreamland.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

You were pulled from your deep sleep the next morning at about 8 a.m. by the sound of your phone vibrating next to you. At first, you ignored it, thinking you were getting a text, but when the buzzing against your night stand continued, you realized you had an incoming call.

You didn't recognize the number, but you still answered. "Hello?" You sleepily mumbled into the phone. "Uh, hi," you immediately recognized the shy voice that responded to you. "Last chance for you to come to church with me. I'm leaving in half an hour," Matt told you.

"You wake up at 8 a.m. every Sunday to go to church?" You asked in a groggy tone. "Actually, I've been up for about an hour," he told you. "Do you have any coffee at your place?" You asked him, rubbing your eyes. "I don't even have a coffee maker at my place," he laughed. "I mean, I do somewhere, but it's still packed up."

"I'll come with you to church if we can stop for coffee on the way," you smiled into the phone. "Uh, yeah. We can do that," Matt said, attempting to conceal his excitement about you agreeing to go to church with him.

"Do I have to wear a dress?" You wondered. "You don't have to, but I'd like to see you in one," Matt replied, biting his lip. "I'll be over in like fifteen minutes. In my sunday best," you answered before you hung up.

You put on an off-white, vintage smock dress that synched at your waist and had long, puffy sleeves. You brushed your teeth, combed through your hair, and ran downstairs.

You were greeted by a confused look from your mother. "Where are you going so early looking so nice?" She asked, peering up from the book she was reading. "To church," you casually said, resting your hand on the doorknob. "Church?" Your mom said confused. "Yeah, I made a new friend. I'll be home later!" You called out before shutting the door behind you.

You made your way over to the boy next door's house, and you knocked while you waited patiently on his porch. A few seconds later, Matt opened the door and his eyes danced across your outfit. "Wow," Matt whispered, taking in the sight of you in a dress. He thought you looked like a fairy.

You looked him up and down as well, admiring his black slacks and black button-down long sleeve. You admired his emerald green tie, wondering how it would feel to grab him by it.

He had a notebook in his hand, and you glanced at his long, slender fingers again that were wrapped around the cover of the book, dreaming about how they'd feel curled inside of you. "What's the notebook for?" You asked. "Oh, nothing. It's just my journal."

"Your diary?" You raised your eyebrows at him. "You write about me in it last night?" You bit your lip at him. "No," he looked away and blushed. "Well, what do I have to do to get you to write about me in there, hmm?" You cooed, reaching for Matt's tie and fiddling with it while you flirted with him.

"Are you ready to go?" He asked, ignoring your question and looking a bit annoyed at you. "Yeah, are we just waiting for your dad?" You asked, gaze still fixed on his black-painted nails, and your mind still fixed in the gutter.

"My dad's not feeling so good. I think the elevation change kind of got to him, so he's staying home today," Matt responded, nervous to be alone with you, but you stared at him hungrily. "Just me and you?" You lustfully asked. You couldn't wait to be alone with him. He sheepishly nodded. "Well, I'm ready if you're ready," you chewed on your lip.

The two of you left to get coffee. You got a frozen caramel coffee drink, and Matt just got a black coffee.

Since Matt was new to the area, he had you navigate the two of you to the first place of worship that came up when he searched for Christian churches, and the two of you showed up just in time for the 9 o'clock service to start.

Matt backed his truck in to a spot on the side of the building, and the two of you slipped into the church, relieved that no one greeted you or asked if it was your first time there. You guys wanted to avoid the spotlight and just take your seats somewhere near the back.

An energetic man walked out onto the stage and immediately drew in the attention of the crowd. It didn't take long before you realized it was one of those weird, eccentric churches where the pastor claimed to be not like the other pastors, but he really just seemed like he was trying to use God as a way to get into people's wallets.

The sermon given revolved around the first book of the Bible, the Garden of Eden, original sin, and the way Adam and Eve gave into temptation. The whole time, you just listened quietly, your eyes shifting back and forth between the man giving the sermon and Matt, who seemed to be in a trance.

The service lasted about an hour and a half, and after the closing prayer, you and Matt shuffled out of the church along with the rest of the crowd, and you made your way back to the truck. On the way back home, you sat next to Matt in the truck that he and his dad shared, facing the shy brunette boy while you mulled over the service given today.

"Do you think Adam and Eve fucked in the garden?" You asked him, breaking the silence and looking at him seductively. Matt pulled his eyes off the road and glanced over at you for a second. "What!?" He asked in an appalled voice.

"Like the apple and the snake. You think those are just code words for something else?" You wondered, chewing on your lip. "I don't think you should be talking about stories in the Bible like that," he widened his eyes at you as if you were about to be struck by lightning.

"I mean, that's what they're alluding to, though, right?" You suggested. "I-I don't know. I never thought that far into it," Matt responded, dumbfounded. "You think Adam and Eve liked getting punished by God?" You smirked at Matt.

His cheeks grew red, he swallowed hard, and he started wiping his sweaty palms off on his button-down. He looked so cute when he was all flustered. "You think Adam was a naughty boy and liked getting caught eating Eve's fruit?" You said, slowly parting your legs and flashing Matt a sneak peak of what was under the skirt of your dress.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the little damp spot on the front of your white panties. "You're all wet.." Matt whispered, wide-eyed, unable to pull his eyes from between your thighs. "I know. I can't help it when you're around," you muttered, parting your legs a little further and gently petting yourself over your underwear.

"Please don't make me sin," Matt peered up at you with his needy, blue eyes. "I can't make you do anything," you teased him, brushing your finger over the soaked spot on the cotton fabric. "If you sin, it's because you want to."

"You're making this so hard for me," he whined, his eyes dancing between the road and the juicy treasure between your thighs. "You're right, I'll stop. I don't want us to crash," you smirked at him, pulling your hand away from your special place and slamming your legs shut.

The desperation on his face turned to disappointment. He didn't want you to stop, but he was riddled with guilt and shame about the way he was thinking about you.

"Can we stop at a store on the way home? I need to pick something up," you asked him. "Sure. Just tell me where to go," Matt responded quietly, still trying to clean his mind of the image of you spreading open your legs and gently rubbing the wet spot on your panties.

You led Matt to a parking lot with a sex shop in the plaza, and it was then that he realized you were up to no good. "Why are we stopping here?" Matt inquired, his wide eyes shifting back and forth between you and the shop you told him to park in front of.

"Don't worry about it. I just need to go in for a minute. It won't take long," you said, unfastening your seatbelt. "Well, you shouldn't go in alone," Matt killed the engine and started eagerly unbuckling his seat belt as well. "Yeah? You gonna protect me from all the dildos?" You chuckled, knowing he couldn't protect you from anything if he tried.

Secretly, he just had never been inside an adult entertainment shop, and considering sex was almost all he thought about besides God, he was curious. But he'd never admit it out loud.

The two of you walked in through the front door, clearly both in church clothes, and the girl at the front counter greeted you by name. "Who's this handsome devil?" The cashier asked, motioning towards Matt, and he blushed.

"This is my new neighbor. His name is Matt. We just got back from church," you told her. "Hot. It's always the religious ones that are a little freaky," the girl said, eyeing Matt and biting her lip. "I-I'm not," Matt quickly said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, he's a virgin," you whispered loudly. "A-am not!" Matt defensively said, turning bright red. "We're not here for him. I was actually looking into getting a new vibrator. I like the ones I have already, but I just want something with a little extra kick, you know?" You told her.

"I have the perfect thing for you," she winked at you, and she started to lead you towards the back. As the three of you walked past the magazines and DVDs, Matt's eye caught the cover of a few, and he started growing hard in his black slacks. He prayed neither of you would notice, trying to adjust himself as subtly as possible.

"This is the womanizer. We just got a shipment of them in this morning," the woman held up a toy. "And this part right here uses airflow and pressure while it vibrates to simulate oral sex," she informed you, turning on the toy and holding it out for you to feel.

"Wow," you said, your eyes twinkling as you felt the sensation against the tip of you finger while you imagined how it would feel elsewhere. "You sold me. Which color should I get, Matt?" You asked, looking over at your cute neighbor who was still trying to fix the erection forming in his pants.

Your eyes flicked down at the way the fabric strained around it, you smiled, and then you looked back up at Matt's embarrassed expression. "Um. Pink, I guess," Matt quietly responded. "Yeah? Like the color of your lips?" You smirked at him, knowing your comment was going to fluster him.

He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "Whew. Is it kinda warm in here?" Matt asked, loosening his tie and turning an ever deeper shade of red. "I want a pink one," you said, turning back to the sex shop worker. She smirked at Matt and the tent growing in his pants before she wandered off to the back to go grab you a packaged one.

"You come here so often, they know you by name?" Matt quietly asked you. "What can I say? I like sex. Sex with myself, sex with another person, sex with more than one other person," you chuckled. "You've had sex? How many guys?" Matt asked, sounding a little jealous. "A lady doesn't fuck and tell," you whispered, winking at Matt before the woman reappeared with the vibrator you and Matt had just picked out.

"Are you sure you don't want a sex toy recommendation, pretty boy?" The cashier turned towards Matt. He glanced between the two of you like a deer in headlights. "Uh. N-no, thank you," Matt studdered, wiping sweat from his brow.

The three of you made it back to the front of the store, walking past BDSM gear and lingerie. "Okay, with your employee discount, it's gonna be $40 even," the girl smiled at you.

"Thanks, Carly. By the way, since I'm here, can I get my paycheck?" You asked, handing her the cash in your wallet. "Yeah, girl. Of course. I'll be right back," she told you after shoving your crinkled twenty dollar bills into the register.

"You work here?" Matt asked, looking at you wide-eyed. "Just part-time," you responded. "And your co-workers know," Matt gulped. "That you masturbate?" He whispered. "Yeah, I mean, if they're the ones thinking about it in their free time, that's their prerogative," you chuckled at Matt.

Carly reappeared from getting your paycheck and handed it off to you. "See you on Tuesday!" You waved goodbye and left the store with Matt trailing behind you.

"Why would you embarrass me like that and tell her I'm a virgin?" Matt asked you, starting up his truck. "Sorry! I didn't mean to embarrass you! I was just being honest. Plus, some girls find it hot," you smiled at him while you buckled your seatbelt.

"Really? Do you?" Matt inquired, putting the truck into reverse and backing out of the parking space. "What do you think?" You narrowed your gaze at him. "I-I don't know. Is that a rhetorical question?" He asked, still bright red from the interaction with the sex shop lady while he shifted into drive. "C'mon, Matthew. Let's go home," you turned your gaze back to the road in front of you guys.

"Okay, if you tell my dad we went into a sex shop, he's going to kill me," Matt looked over at you with a serious expression as he pulled into his driveway. "Why would I tell him that? Plus, you're not going home just yet. We're gonna go hang out in my treehouse. Remember?" You reminded Matt, slugging him in the arm.

"I-I don't wanna smoke weed," Matt admitted to you. "That's fine. You don't have to. I'm not gonna make you. But I am going to smoke weed, and you can hang out with me up there while I do, and we can just talk. Get to know each other better," you suggested, staring at Matt's lips and licking your own. "Okay," Matt hesitantly agreed.

He followed you through the wooden gate on the side of your house into your backyard where the two of you climbed the rope ladder up to your treehouse. Matt noted how much bigger the structure looked on the inside once you and he were in it.

You made your way over to a bag you had stuffed in a crevice in the wooden-pannel flooring, and Matt's nose wrinkled as a pungent smell filled the air when you opened it. Matt noted that it contained a lighter, rolling papers, and several nugs of a green substance.

"You keep your weed up here?" Matt asked you, his eyes widening. He'd never seen it in person, just in movies and in pictures where teachers in school were showing him what to stay away from. "The devil's lettuce," he remembered church leaders referring to it at sermons.

"Yeah, my mom's one of those people who's in denial about everything, so if I keep it out of her sight, she can more easily pretend I don't," you snickered. You sat down on the floor with your back up against the wall, and Matt was directly across from you, leaning up against the opposite wall.

You started to roll a joint, grinding the flower up with your fingers while you watched Matt's nervous expression. "So, why don't you smoke? Does it make you paranoid or something?" You asked him as you rolled. "I don't know. I've never tried it," Matt shrugged.

"Why not?" You questioned him, licking the joint sealed as you stared into his innocent, blue eyes. "It goes against God's word," he confidently told you. "Where does it say you can't smoke weed in the Bible?" You asked, lighting the end of the paper.

"The Bible says you shouldn't alter your state of mind," Matt replied, watching the smoke from your marijuana cigarette slowly drift out the window of your treehouse. "But you had coffee this morning? Caffeine is a drug and a consciousness-altering substance," you smirked at Matt, using his own logic against him.

"That's different," he said, rolling his eyes. "How? Is it because you're one of those cherry-pick Christians?" You taunted him, blowing out another plume of smoke. "You're gonna get me second-hand high," Matt snarked at you, unbuttoning the top button on his shirt and covering his nose and mouth with it.

"You didn't answer my question. Listen, I don't care if you pick and choose what things to listen to or not, but I was just curious as to how you know what you're gonna follow or not. And you're not gonna get high. I'd have to hold you down and blow it in your mouth," you sneered at him.

The idea of you pinning him down had Matt's palms sweating and his heart racing.

"You get turned on really easily, don't you?" You seductively spoke, taking another drag. The end of the joint crackled while you inhaled. Matt licked his lips and subtly nodded.

"Naughty boy," your lips curled into a malicious grin, knowing this would drive him crazy. Matt hugged his knees up towards his chest to hide the fact that he was getting another hard on.

"So, tell me, Matt," you took a final drag off the joint and put it out. "Do you think it's a sin to masturbate?" You inquired. "Well, yeah," Matt shifted around uncomfortably. "But you still do it," you smirked at him. He silently looked at you, neither confirming nor denying your accusation.

"What's the difference if someone else did it for you?" You stared at him lustfully, testing him. "I guess I'm not sure," Matt softly responded. "Well, you should think about that," you told him as you started opening the package that contained your new vibrator.

"W-what are you doing?" Matt asked nervously. "I'm just testing it out," you assured him. "In front of me?" Matt inquired, his eyes growing wider. "Relax. I'm not gonna get off with it in front of you. Unless you want me to," you smirked at him, turning on the vibrator and running it across your palm and your wrist.

"Here, feel it," you said, crawling over beside Matt and placing it on his fingertips. "Wow. That probably feels really good," Matt quietly responded, imagining how you'd sound and look with it between your legs. "I can't wait to use it tonight," you whispered in his ear, gently grazing his earlobe with your lip. Matt's stare flicked up to meet yours while you ran the toy across his palm.

"Are you gonna think about me?" You were shocked at the words that left Matt's mouth. It was the most forward he'd been with you, and it kind of turned you on. "Of course, I am. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since I met you," you quietly whispered, your gaze dancing between his perfectly blue eyes and his full, pink lips.

The tension in the air was palpable, and you felt a magnetic-like pull as the two of you leaned in to close the distance that lingered between the two of you. And just as your lips were about to touch, you heard your mom calling your name from inside the house.

You pulled back, shut off your buzzing toy, and sighed. Matt was looking at you with a desperate and needy expression. You leaned in and whispered in his ear again, "I've gotta go. Text me. And when you write about me in your diary tonight, make sure you call me mommy."

part two posted here 💖

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[zoeykallus]

Hi, Zoey! Are your requests open? I had an idea after watching Kenobi.

There’s a scene in Kenobi where the Inquisitors show up to a market place in search of Jedi. They throw a knife at the shop owner knowing that the Jedi hiding among the patrons will stop the knife from harming him. It would be interesting to see that with Hunter.

Maybe Hunter and Cid’s bartender have a relationship. Bartender was weary of the clones at first but warmed up to them and liked Hunter. They just started dating when Inquisitors show up. They use the knife trick on someone (maybe even Omega) and bartender is forced to expose themselves as a former Jedi.

I’d love to see how Hunter would react to that.

oh oh oh oh... I got something in my head!

*Running in circles*

I actually had a scene like this in my head for a while now, I put the whole batch in there but focus on Hunter as a love interest.

Hunter x Jedi/Reader - One-Shot - The Things We Do For Love

Warnings: Angst/Canon Typical Violence/Blood/Fluff

No one knows about your past with the Jedi order. You are forced to drop your cover, when you try to save Hunter's life.

_______

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

_______

It's strange, life after Order 66 - hiding, pretending to be someone else. And it doesn't get any easier every day as you'd hoped, at least not at first. Cid's Bar, that's where you ended up at some point. You work behind the counter. You serve all kinds of strange clientele. Cid's Bar is like a meeting place for all kinds of scum in the Galaxy. Life has changed, a lot. Priorities change. The code after you've lived so long is nowhere near as important as surviving and belonging somewhere so you're not completely alone in this universe. But you can't open up to anyone, not exactly the most decent people come and go here. So you keep a low profile. You even flirt here and there to keep up appearances, but at the same time, you keep everyone at a distance. And then, to make matters worse, these clones turn up. Automatically, every alarm sounds inside you. Order 66 flares up in your memory, sharp and painful. It takes so much willpower to stay calm, to not let anything get to you, so much trauma hangs in every thought of clones. No one knows who you are, no one even suspects that you were part of the Jedi Order.

And yet these men surprise you, especially one of them who leads the group. He is so thoughtful, so serious. Hunter always seems to be lost in thought, trying to keep everything under control, to ensure safety. He rarely leans back and really takes a breath. He's almost always worried and tense, you can feel it in the Force. But eventually, he thaws out, you somehow strike up a conversation, and you quickly learn how much depth and kindness lie beneath that brooding, skeptical exterior. Hunter can even be funny, very observant and above all else, he's decent, probably one of the most decent people to ever come and go in this bar. You catch yourself admiring him. Your eyes meet more and more often, you talk to each other more often, even flirt. But this flirting is different, it's not fake, it feels real, exciting and for you, with your past, completely new and almost reckless. You are both obviously interested in each other, just as you are both shy and cautious in a certain way. Weeks, even months go by before your hands touch for the first time, and he asks you out.

You can see it in his face, he can hardly believe it himself, hidden behind his smile is a nervous boy who is incredibly afraid of being rejected by you. The big, brooding leader has a great weakness, you. Of course, you say yes, you can hardly resist this special man, clone soldier or not, Hunter has so much good in him, he attracts you like a magnet, not to mention his good, bold looks do the rest.

It starts like any other evening. More or less. After your first date, Hunter usually comes into the bar smiling, automatically seeking your gaze as soon as he walks through the door. You can't help it, you smile back every time, accompanied by a warm tingling in your stomach, warmth rising in your cheeks and ears.

But something is different today. There is a presence in the room, dark, determined, hard as stone, surrounded by sharp edges. You sense this presence in the Force, its intransigence. You look around in alarm. The bar is a little busier today, your gaze wanders more or less inconspicuously around the room. Then you see him. You meet cold eyes, eyes as blue as sapphires, their gaze steely and sharp, so intense that you automatically lower your own gaze and distractedly clean a glass. But you know this person has already noticed you. Right now you're feverishly thinking about your next steps and how to get out of here alive without putting anyone in danger. Hunter frowns worriedly, watching you. He can tell something is wrong. Tech is talking to him, but he is focused on you right now. He leaves the table where he was sitting with his brothers and is about to come over to you when he hears a voice say clearly and distinctly, not shouting but loud enough, "CT 9901"

You feel hot and cold, a shiver runs down your spine, you're sure Hunter feels the same way, you can see it on his face. All the heads at the Bad Batch table look up in surprise, shock and alarm. Hunter turns to the voice that seems to be coming from one of the other tables a few meters away. A man suddenly stands up, slowly, unhurriedly, confidently. Like a predator who is sure of his prey, who has no reason to be afraid, no need to hurry. Neither you nor Hunter like the body language. What surprises you, however, is that this man, in his strange, dark uniform, is not looking for you as you expected, but obviously for Hunter and presumably his brothers. "All 99ers in one room, this must be my lucky day. And not only that, I feel like I'm getting a little something extra on top of that," the somber stranger says, his voice deep and clear, almost melodic.

The room falls silent, as if the presence of this man demands it. With a confident little smile, the man pulls a knife from his belt, the first movement is slow, almost sluggish, but the throw comes so suddenly that you barely have time to react. It has become so quiet in the bar that you could hear a pin drop. But when the blade suddenly seems to stop in mid-air barely a centimeter from Hunter's eye, a murmur goes through the room. You're sure you can hear someone whispering the word Jedi.

Hunter only lets out a quiet, "What the hell", he can't help but stare at the blade for a moment. He should be dead, he realizes, that vibro blade should have drilled into his skull, but there it is, hovering right in front of his face. Out of the corner of his eye he sees your outstretched hand, your concentrated gaze, and he begins to understand. You stopped the blade from killing him, you stopped it in its tracks. The stranger's cool voice draws you both back to him. "I knew I sensed a Jedi in the room, and I knew you couldn't resist to show yourself" In the next moment everything happens very quickly, there is no time to think, to process, to make plans. The man reaches out his hand, and you feel his grip on you in the force. You are swept over the bar counter, with a pull on your body, trough the force, knocking over two tables on your way to the floor. Everything around you happens in a haze, you hear Hunter cursing angrily, blaster shots, the distinctive buzz of an awakening lightsaber, screams from the other patrons. A red glow fills the room. The smell of burned flesh.

Your left side hurts. You landed hard on the tables when the Sith Force-wrenched you over the counter, maybe you cracked a few ribs. There are shards on the surrounding floor from the glasses that went down. As you try to pick yourself up, you accidentally reach in and cut your right palm. The pain is sharp, clear and distinct, bringing you back to reality from your surprise. You jump to your feet, skillfully, supported by the force that flows through and envelops you. It's been a long time since you've used the Force and your abilities in this way, but it's as if you've never let it out of your fingers, the lightsaber sliding into your hand, its blade glowing blue with its characteristic hum. Blood runs down the hilt of your weapon from the open cut on your hand, it burns, but you ignore the pain. You feel Hunter's gaze, he is still confused. He knows what you are now, but he certainly hasn't processed the news yet. At the moment, you all have other things to worry about. Did the Sith come alone? Are there Stormtroopers waiting for you outside the bar?

You concentrate on the force, on the intentions of your opponent. Everything you feel emanating from him is sharp, dark, glowing hot. He is driven by rage, and the moment your lightsabers cross, you feel all the hatred in his attacks, which are admittedly much stronger than you expected. You've never fought a real Sith before. The first touch of your lightsabers is like an electric shock, an incredibly hard impact, a wave of fury that seems to roll over you from your opponent. The hilt of your weapon is slippery with your own blood, you have to grab it hastily with both hands so that the sword doesn't slip from your grasp or your opponent will decapitate you. For a moment, Hunter's concern penetrates your perception, but you shut him out and have to concentrate. A quick exchange of blows follows, attack, parry, retreat, attack, parry... The handle of your weapon becomes increasingly slippery with your own blood. Then it happens, another hard blow, you parry, the impact of the blades causes your weapon to slip away.

You hear Hunter yell out, hear the shock in his voice, the terror in that simple word, "No!" His blaster lies on the ground, sliced in half by the Sith's blade. Hunter has pulled his knife from his belt in a split second, lunging in the Sith's direction. The blade of your attacker hovers just in front of your neck, you hold the Sith and his weapon in this position with all the strength you can muster with body and force. Your heart races, adrenaline flows through your body. There are only millimeters between your life and death. Millimeters before the red lightsaber could sever your head from your shoulders. Hunter reaches an arm around the Sith's neck and jabs his knife into his side. The sergeant's voice is dark and smoky as he rasps, "Not on my watch"

The red lightsaber goes out and falls to the ground. Hunter kicks it aside, away from the Sith's hands, and lets the mortally wounded attacker slide to the ground. You see Hunter's chest rise and fall, still electrified, while your adrenaline suddenly subsides and your hands begin to tremble a little. You concentrate on the force, your center, and banish the trembling from your limbs. With a sigh, you look at the man on the ground, who is taking his last breaths, his cold, sapphire eyes still looking up at you with hatred, but there is also reluctance in them, surprise, defiance. Echo kneels down next to him, feels his pulse. "Quite dead," he says dryly, and with a glance at your extinguished lightsaber, he asks, "Care to explain?" "Take it easy, Echo. I guess it's obvious why we're only finding out now, it would have been dangerous to reveal the truth," Hunter says calmly and steps closer, carefully grabbing your hand and looking at the cut.

"That needs stitching," Tech says with a sideways glance and adds, "I can do it when we get to the Marauder, we should get out of here, more will come" The others lead the way, Hunter and you follow at a slight distance. You can't quite believe it yet. CF99 accepts you into their midst, no ifs, no questions, yet. Admittedly, Echo is still a little skeptical, but he always is. But you're part of it now, you're no longer alone. The thought spikes a feeling of euphoria in you. "Looks like Clone Force 99 has its own Jedi now," Hunter says with a wry smile. You crack a smile, liking the idea, forgetting for a moment your bleeding hand and the drops of blood that fall to the ground and on your tunic. Crosshair, who is walking ahead of you, casts a jaunty glance over his shoulder and says dryly, "Just don't expect me to follow your orders, General." He says it with a wink, even if his words sound a little hostile, he is friendly to you, you sense his intentions in the Force.

You say quietly, "I wasn't going to give you orders, you have a working system as a group, I wouldn't dream of changing it" The Sniper laughs softly, "Clever Jedi" Hunter drops back a little, and you do the same, sensing that he has something to say to you. After a little while, on your way to the Marauder, he says seriously, "You gave up your cover to save my life, thank you" You chuckle and say softly, "The things we do for love" Hunter listens in surprise and asks, "So our dates aren't part of your cover?" You've opened up to him in the force, feeling his pulse, the tingling under his skin as if it were your own. "I would never play with your feelings, not even as a cover," you say seriously. Hunter breathes a sigh of relief and asks, "So nothing will change between us?" "I'd like us to continue our relationship and see where it takes us," you reply with a warm smile. You feel his relief, his affection, and you breathe a sigh of relief as well.

"That's what I want too," he says, carefully grabbing your hand and taking another look at the wound. "That looks really bad," he says, frowning. Wrecker comes rushing up and murmurs, "Now hurry up, or our Jedi will bleed to death!" Impatiently, he grabs you and lifts you off your feet to carry you to the Marauder. You make a small, startled noise. "Wrecker," Hunter says softly, admonishing. "What? The little Jedi got hurt!" Wrecker returns unperturbed and carries you to the Marauder. "It's just a cut on my hand," you say, waving it off. "It's bleeding a lot," Tech comments as Wrecker sets you down next to him and points at your stained tunic. Tech already has medical supplies ready, including a needle and thread, but first Echo cleans the wound. You grit your teeth, because the cleaning stings a lot. Echo says knowingly, "Don't worry, it'll be done in a minute"

Wrecker asks curiously, "Is the Jedi officially with us now?" Hunter sits down opposite you and watches as your wound is taken care of, he says, "I think so" "But I'm not really a Jedi anymore. There is no longer a Jedi order and I haven't been following the code for a while now, at least not to the letter," Hunter's eyes meet yours at the last words. Your heart beats faster as a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. "We're not really regular clones either, we're not really soldiers anymore," Tech says lightly. Crosshair sticks a toothpick in his mouth and mutters, "Welcome to the defect squad, I have a feeling you'll fit in perfectly here"

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

________

@rintheemolion

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[kissingarthurclaus]

for potential art reasons, do you have designs/ideas for Kepler during the Rebels period of time? sending this in as an ask to also give you the opportunity to gush about the bestest padawan there is uwu - @limey-self-inserts

LIMEY MY FRIEND LIMEY 🥺🫶🫶 you're so so sweet and sorry for not getting to this sooner, it's bcs you inspired me! I actually had drawn up a design for Rebels!Kepler, but it was a bit old so I decided to redraw it

So here it is, the first colored pic is 31-year-old Rebels era Kep, and the sketch is of an 18-year-old Kep I did for the Inquisitor!Brea AU but I decided to include it because if you just add the scars he'd retain from being wounded in the escape from Order 66 that'd be what he looks like at that age regardless! (Some more info under the cut, warning for EXTREME angst)

After fleeing the temple with Brea, they eventually both reunite with Rex! And I literally didn't even think of it until just now, but their reunion is probably a very bittersweet one on Kepler's part 0_0 Technically they'd encounter the bad batch first, and I imagine Kep has a...really strong reaction to seeing troopers again after Order 66. He isn't killed in this AU but he IS badly wounded, and disabled for the rest of his life, so I feel as much as Brea panics when seeing them he has a full blown attack that she has to bring him down from.

Eventually he understands that clone force 99 are cool, and they're starting to unravel the mystery of Order 66 but that doesn't mean it'd be easy for him to adjust to having Rex around. They used to be so close, Kep admired him as a male role model more than anyone, but now he flinches every time Rex's hand even brushes his blaster, even though Rex would never ever hurt him now. 😭😭😭

It takes a lot of time for them all to start to recover from the trauma it caused them. But eventually they DO start to feel like the family they always thought they would be, especially when Rex and Brea's first child is born, Kaiza! I really gotta draw more family stuff, but I think when Kep holds her for the first time it finally solidifies in his mind that this is his new life, his true family, and for the first time in a long time (and at least for now) he is safe...

Until ofc Rex leaves for milk (joopas) and doesn't come back but that's another thing entirely 😂😂😂

[momojedi]

— BACTA SUPPORT pairing. hunter x gn! reader

**

type. drabble note. request from ao3  word count. 615

star wars masterlist

"Hunter? Are you here?" I hesitated when no response came back before carefully climbing up the ramp to the Havoc Marauder, the metal creaking softly under my feet. It had easily been around fifteen minutes since Hunter had excused himself from me and the rest of the Batch citing the need to tend to the blaster wound he'd sustained on our last mission so Echo sent me to check up on him, though not without giving me a mischievous grin.

It hadn't been a secret that Hunter had been the object of my affection for a while now. I mean, how could he not capture my attention? His rugged exterior concealed a tender soul, a man who prioritised the well-being and happiness of everyone around him. Seeing him with Omega always made my heart swell with so much admiration and I couldn't help but feel my cheeks flush a little whenever he gave me that warm smile, a side to him only few had the chance to meet. Needless to say, I had fallen hard for the sergeant of Clone Force 99 and for some reason, I couldn't help but hope he felt the same whenever I felt the little spark between us flicker to life.

Knocking softly on the metal of the ship as not to alarm him, I glanced around the Marauder's stomach. "I just wanted to see if you nee- oh." For a second, I had to remind myself to breathe when my eyes finally settled on him.

Hunter sat on his rack, shirtless, with a bacta patch in his hand when he looked up at me. His upper armour, along with the shirt of his body glove, were scattered on the ground. With his chest exposed, I had a perfect view on everything, each muscle and every little bit of naked skin, and suddenly, it was very hard to keep my eyes off him.

I gulped and suddenly my mouth was all dry as I kept looking for proper words, any words, to say. My face was indescribably hot and it didn't take a genius to figure out that my cheeks were likely a delicious shade of red. Hunter seemed to realise that too because suddenly, a sly grin danced on his lips. "Oh?" He repeated my words with a raised brow. I cleared my throat. "I wanted to, er, see if you needed any help, yo-you know, with your," I motioned towards the healing injury on his chest, "your wound."

Hunter chuckled, a comfortable chuckle that made me feel warmer than I'd probably like to admit. "You think I can't take care of it on my own?" My eyes widened and I gasped, immediately entangling myself in a net of excuses and corrections which just made him grin even wider. Finally, he rose his hands in a calming manner. "Relax, [name], it's all good," I let out a quiet exhale, "I would however appreciate some help with the bacta..."

My mind was racing when I settled between his knees to have better access to the wound. We'd been close before, hell, we'd even hugged or slept next to each other during missions - but this was another level of intimate. I jumped when I felt his rough hands settle on my hips. Although I fixed my gaze on the bandage in my hands, I could feel his eyes boring into me. I took a deep breath. My hands were shaking when I smeared the bacta on the injury but when I glanced up to look at Hunter, all I was met with was a loving expression. "Thank you." I smiled back at him, fully lost in his eyes.

"You're welcome."

[eriexplosion]

MOVING FROM SOME EASY EPISODES TO THE HARDEST. OUTPOST.

Do y'all remember the hype for this episode like we knew it was THE Crosshair episode and everyone was absolutely thirsting for it.

"A new friend is made on a harsh and unforgiving outpost planet" WHO WROTE THIS SUMMARY?

Like yes technically accurate as it doesn't specify that the new friend survives the friendship.

Crosshair clearly paying much more attention to the regs these days, at this point I do think he's pretty much had all his bullshit beaten out of him when it comes to thinking he's better than anyone else. Just in time for Crosshair's Worse Time Parade to start.

Much like Hemlock, Lieutenant Nolan is established as absolute garbage the instant he sees Crosshair taking like two seconds to breathe out of his helmet and tells him he's out of uniform. If The Bad Batch can do one thing it's write a man that sucks.

AND THEN HE MAKES IT WORSE WITH "I DON'T LIKE USED EQUIPMENT"

Literally would kill this man myself and he's been on screen for 30 seconds

THE ICE VULTURE <3 OUR BOY'S NEW MOTIF <3

MAYDAY. MAYYYYYDAYYYYYY.

HE IS HERE!

God Mayday was complicated because like I loved him from the moment I saw him but also like, coming into this episode just logistically we knew anyone that showed Crosshair a hint of kindness was almost certainly going to get killed, so Mayday is loved for the exact thing that put him on the path to narrative doom. Reinforcements or no reinforcements, it doesn't matter, Mayday was never leaving Barton IV alive.

They waited 36 rotations. 4 days longer than Crosshair was left to nearly starve on a platform. If I remember correctly (I'm not there yet) Crosshair says the trip took 2 hours. None of their lives were worth two hours.

THE WAY MAYDAY HAS TWO, TWO MEN LEFT UNDER HIS COMMAND. ONLY TWO. HE HAD TO WATCH THE REST ALL DIE UNDER HIS WATCH. I AM SO FUCKING UNWELL ABOUT HIM.

I really love the name Hexx btw

"Respect is something to be earned." And immediately Nolan goes nuclear to insult him because he wasn't instantly given unconditional deference.

YEP IT WAS TWO HOURS. TWO HOURS OUT OF THE WAY.

I am going to scream from the layers of unfair this is.

The way Mayday's voice softens a touch when left alone with Crosshair though, always gentler with another clone.

I'm still not over the LONG pause after Mayday introduces himself, like Crosshair is trying to dig past the shields he put up between himself and his situation to remember his own name. He probably hasn't heard it at all since Cody.

Mayday looked at Crosshair and apparently felt the desperation for company rolling off him in smothering waves because he instantly is just like 'you're under my wing now'

That he's been out here over a year meaning that the Empire has been established for over a year is a lot to take in like god Crosshair has been away from home for so long.

"You'll freeze to death in that armor" He is like 10 seconds from wrapping Crosshair in a blanket I swear to god I'm only slightly projecting.

"Vicious creatures, but you have to admire 'em. They find a way to survive." GOD I LOVE THAT LINE. ABSOLUTELY FANTASTIC.

Using the explosion through heat vision to completely screw Crosshair's up for the shot was such a good excuse to have him just wound the guy instead of kill him, lol.

Still was surprised to see a blood trail in this cartoon, but sure they can't show us any sign of Tech's body right (YES I AM STILL ON THIS AND WILL BE UNTIL THEY SHOW US THE BOY)

Goddddd him putting Hexx and Veetch's helmets next to all of the others. His very last brothers, the men he was responsible for, god I am in tatters about it. Every second of this episode is just. Grief and Pain.

"Remind me not to die on your watch" Don't worry you're the only person that's been nice to him in months he will literally drag you through hell to save your life. Crosshair just has what we call "Something is wrong with him" disease and all of his words pass through the cortex that makes him rude before getting to you.

My thoughts on this mine disarming scene are Many but let it just be said that I still cannot believe they put this on my screen, it was made explicitly for me to be feral to.

Mayday has learned fast how to talk to Crosshair though, gotta give him some snark back.

"They're... gone." "And here we are. The survivors."

GOD I AM UNHINGED ABOUT THIS.

"If I don't hear a boom then I'll know it worked." "Glad you're confident in your work." "Oh I'm confident, I'm just not stupid."

I just love this back and forth dynamic that they hit perfectly and immediately.

Hey Crosshair actually wins a hand to hand fight all he has to do is sneak up on them and not give them the opportunity to actually hit him back.

Shout out to the guy whose first instinct was to try and RUN MAYDAY OVER WITH A CAR like it didn't work but impressive ingenuity.

Clones dying to guard the gear intended for their replacements god it makes me ILL.

"We're good soldiers. We followed orders. And for what?"

The entire thing is designed to drive a wedge into Crosshair's brain and break through the thick shield he's built around himself where he is so sure if he just follows orders Well Enough maybe he can make everything he's done and lost worth it in the end but he can't because he never had a future in the Empire and no amount of sunk cost fallacy will change that.

AND JUST IN TIME FOR HIS EPIPHANY WE GET THE AVALANCHE.

Literally would be so fascinating to see exactly what was running through Mayday's head when he chose to push Crosshair out of the way of the rock instead of jumping to safety himself. He just met this guy, he's not technically responsible for him, but Mayday has lost every single soldier he was in command of, sole survivor of his unit, and he finally, finally had the opportunity to save someone. If he only saves one person, maybe he's done something worthwhile.

And honestly, Crosshair is trying to do the same back to him. Just Mayday dies knowing he succeeded and Crosshair lives knowing he failed.

I am fucking destroyed by this episode by the way like it is so unbearably good and also tragic as hell.

Mayday trying to get Crosshair to leave him behind and the music when Crosshair decides absolutely the fuck not. That they have one helmet between them and Crosshair put it on Mayday's head and not his own.

THE MUSIC AS CROSSHAIR IS SO DETERMINED TO DRAG HIM BACK AND THE ICE VULTURE OVERHEAD MY GOD.

The moment of them huddling together in a tiny little hideaway in the rock ends me too, like, images that stick in my head forever.

And despite everything Crosshair made it he got Mayday back to the outpost alive, he did everything to accomplish the impossible and it should have been enough, but it wasn't all because Nolan doesn't value either of their lives enough to even lift a single finger for Mayday.

Like Crosshair accomplishing the impossible through sheer stubbornness only to have it pulled away at the last second I am in AGONY.

HE GAVE MAYDAY HIS SNIPER RIFLE TO USE AS A CRUTCH FOR GODS SAKE

Crosshair taking Mayday's helmet off and at least giving him one last moment of human connection before it's over

The voice acting in this moment is absolutely unbelievable but especially on 'Help him' like give DBB all the money in the world because I was shattered.

THE FACT THAT THEY MADE US LISTEN TO MAYDAY GURGLE COUGH OUT HIS LAST BREATH AND SEE THE INSTANT HIS EYES ROLL BACK AND CLOSE

"He served his purpose as a soldier of the Empire" OWN WORDS THROWN BACK INTO HIS FACE LIKE A FUCKING PUNCH

The way Crosshair's words drop back down into a growl as he says "You could have saved him." is so good too.

The music as it all reaches its boiling point, as he sees the vulture's shadow, then Mayday's body, then the vulture itself just. Oh god. This episode is a masterpiece and I'm still not over it. I don't think I'll ever be over it.

Like I still cannot BELIEVE we got this shot? The rock wings? I'm? Inconsolable?

Crosshair really probably thought he was going to die right there next to Mayday and honestly I think he was okay with it, in the worst way possible. Also him unconscious here is literally THE most relaxed I think we've ever seen his face.

But because this is only the start of Crosshair's Life Getting Much Much Worse he gets to live and wake up in a horrible science lab!

The sedative injection is much worse given the way that they torture him later.

"Cooperate and you might survive."

Literally one of the best episodes of anything I've ever seen I still cannot believe that we got it, truly. This episode is like 95% of the reason I have faith in the writers pulling through on the Tech Issue because I don't think anyone that gave Crosshair this episode arc would actually kill Tech off in such a stupid way on a completely pointless side quest.

I'm still on the rock wings and will be until further notice.

[know-the-way]

Phrack Ficlet

Do you ever wanna post something for a fandom you’re in, but you’re intimidated by the talent of other writers in said fandom? So you psych yourself out of posting a proper fic, but you know if you don’t at least try to post something, you probably never will? … Yeah? Just me? Cool.

Anyway, this is short and I just don’t feel good enough about it in general to post to ao3. So… have a wee bit of phrack fluff. Just because. (Or don’t - not forcing it, totally your choice. Just uh… testing the waters, if you will.) If you do read it, wow thank you! And yeah… I’m gonna go now. Okay thanks, bye!

They’d been summoned to fulfill their monthly duty of appearing at one of Aunt P’s charity dinners and this one had garnered a rather uptight crowd. Even by Mrs. Stanley’s standards (“They’ve certainly mastered the ‘eat’ and ‘drink’, but the ‘be merry’ seems to have been abandoned,” she’d said with no small amount of irritation, “Never did I think I’d be praying for a batch of my son’s fudge.”) It was the first time in quite a while that Jack felt noticeably out of place, and the guests had done a rather spectacular job of (patronizingly) reinforcing that idea.

Phryne, as always, paid no mind to the crowd of stuffed shirts and altered not one bit of her behavior for the sake of other’s pearls. It was a quality he admired and one that he’d normally delight in. However, towards the end of the night, she’d stumbled into his lap and made a show of kissing his cheek and then nipping at his ear, whispering (if one could call it that) for him to “take her home and to bed.” He would’ve found it divine had he been tucked away in a dark corner to himself, but he was instead sat at a table of notable clergymen from all across Victoria and their faces looked nothing short of scandalized. Red didn’t even begin to describe the color of his face as he hastily excused them both and then stammered through his goodnights to Mrs. Stanley, Phryne giggling at his suffering the entire way.

Now standing out in the courtyard, waiting on Cec and Bert (why the bloody hell didn’t he drive himself?), she was thoroughly wrapped around him and making soft noises that sounded far too similar to the ones she made while falling to sleep.

“Phryne darling, people are… people are looking at us,” he pleaded softly, offering a tight smile to some of the wide-eyed passersby as she leaned more of her weight into him.

“Well, let them look,” there was a purr in her voice that indicated she was rather pleased with that development and Jack sighed.

“I meant that they’re looking unfavorably.”

To that, she turned her head and gazed up at him with a smirk and sleepy, half-lidded eyes, “I know what you meant, Robinson.” He pursed his lips admonishingly, but she only smiled wider, “My answer stays the same. Just because these boring old biddies don’t like their husbands enough to cuddle them doesn’t mean I can’t with mine. Especially when you’re so tall and… ” she tucked her head back under his chin and rested her cheek to his chest, “handsome and… “ she let out a satisfying yawn, humming contentedly, “warm.”

His mouth parted in slight bewilderment as he struggled to decide which to address first - the fact that he (rather intentionally, on their part) wasn’t her husband or that her idea of a ‘cuddle’ was having her arms wrapped around him under his suit jacket and her body pressed so tightly to his that it bordered on indecent. Flattered as he was (perhaps he had blushed), this was really a most inopportune time. Sometimes she was truly exasperating… and utterly adorable. And yet, he noted with an edge of self-reprimand, he had already resigned himself to her will.

Trying to ignore the insistent stares and pointed whispers, he stole a fond caress of her hair, murmuring into the crown of her head, half-bemused, half-serious, “Just how much champagne did you drink tonight, Miss Fisher?”

She let out a sweet little noise of annoyance, embracing him even tighter, clearly anticipating that he would disapprove and wanting to soften the blow, “However many they put in my hand. Not my fault that the wait staff was so very attentive.”

“Good God,” he closed his eyes briefly in amused disbelief, chuckling and then taking one cleansing breath. He moved one of the hands on her hips up to her lower back to stroke it softly. “You’ll be the death of me, woman, I swear.”

She raised her head then to look up at him with mischievously tender eyes, “I do hope not, inspector. You’re much more valuable to me alive.”

“Mm? Is that so?” he raised his brow and she smiled languidly, “I suppose I do serve the distinct purpose of overlooking your unconventional approaches to the law, which most others decidedly would not. “

“Oh Jack,” she pouted up at him, her voice becoming more slurred, though he noticed the genuine affection in it as she spoke, ”Surely you don’t think that’s all you’re good for,” she paused for them to share a cheeky look.

He frowned playfully, not noticing that he was now leaning as much into her as she was him, “I can’t imagine what other unique use I might serve, Miss Fisher.”

“I can,” she smiled wickedly and leaned up to kiss him quickly, which he allowed, despite himself. “Now stop being cross at me,” she whispered against his lips, “We both know we would’ve been stuck there at least another hour had I not whisked you away.”

He huffed indignantly, but catching the sparkle in her eye, quickly bobbed his head side to side with a resigned roll of his eyes, “Perhaps.”

She looked utterly triumphant, beaming up at him, and he was reminded once again that he was completely and irrevocably in love with her. “Now aren’t you going to say ‘thank you’?”

He considered her for a moment, all other exiting guests invisible and irrelevant now, and then leaned in to lay a trail of soft kisses down the bridge of her nose, a murmured ‘thank you’ between each one. When he met her again at her lips, her eyes were half-closed and a blissful warmth covered her features. “That’s a start, inspector, but I’m not sure I’m convinced of your gratitude just yet.”

“Well,” he smiled, pressing his lips to hers, “Good thing the night is young, Miss Fisher.”

[stars-n-spice]

Welcome back!

I'm going to attempt to post something Silly Squad (Bad Batch x Baddies Batch) related - be it headcanons, one shots/fics, or art - every Saturday! Because Silly Squad Saturday has a nice ring to it and it eases into OC Sunday pretty nicely :) 

That and I want to try and motivate myself to do more with these guys because I post about like,, 10% of the collective lore I have about them while the rest of the 90% stays up in my brain. 

This week we've got: Prologues!

Here are the prologues of Jung, Viram, Khea, and Tay'kaa's stories!

Join each of them as they attempt to adapt to an ever-changing galaxy, facing challenges both external and internal as past memories and broken promises haunt them. Join them as they all search for something; be it identity, purpose, a home, or love, in the vast galaxy far far away...

A forgotten relic of a fallen religion.

Jung can remember the fire. 

The blinding lights of red and gold. Of blue fury. Of an indescribable heat that could only be described as pure and utter hatred; burning hotter than the brightest stars.

He remembers the smell of smoke that followed from that fire. That sickly haze that still haunts him like a ghost and suffocates him in the silence of the night and his mind.

He remembers the weight of his saber in his hands. How the once familiar cool of metal felt heavier than any burden he’d once carried, suddenly foreign during a time he so desperately needed it to protect like it was designed to do. 

But worse than the sight of the flames, the smell of the smoke, and the weight so heavy in his hands were the sounds of screams. 

Continue the story on Ao3 >>

A medic who helps everyone but herself.

Since Viram could remember, she wanted to help people. 

As the oldest of four, she’d always been in charge and had the responsibilities of looking after her siblings and taking care of them. She cooked, she cleaned, she made sure they did their academy work and stayed out of trouble. With her parents out more often than not, Viram assumed the role of ‘mom’ and ‘dad;’ growing up much faster than those her age. But it was okay, at least to Viram it was, because she understood it was something that had to be done. 

And while some would crumble under the weight of expectations, Viram thrived. There wasn’t anything the Mikkian couldn’t tackle and everything she did–she did it to honor her parents. 

Her father was a well-renowned doctor while her mother was an inspiring teacher, and Viram respected and admired them from the very start. They were the perfect picture of an Inner and Mid Rim family. Well off and respected, her parents were shining lights in their communities that were constantly helping those in need with their skills and talents. Viram so desperately wanted to be like them. 

So, she did what she could to follow in their footsteps. She excelled in school and at home she looked after her siblings when her parents worked late. Some might’ve pitied her and thought she was forced into her duties and dreams by her parents, but Viram didn’t care or listen to them. It was her life, and she wanted it to be just like her parents’: 

Perfect. 

Continue the story on Ao3 >>

A little starbird with no way back home.

Khea wished she couldn’t remember her roots. 

She wished the beskar she wore wasn’t her own, that her tongue didn’t speak foreign words and her mind didn’t know ancient legends and myths. Khea wished that the blood in her veins didn’t burn bright like the fires in the Great Forge and that the last name she carried wasn’t shared with any clan. She wished that everything she ever was and everything that came before her would fade to stardust and leave her with a blank slate.  

Because to be a Nultez was to be a wanderer. To be a Nultez was to be cursed to forever be…

Lost. 

Continue the story on Ao3 >>

A merciless merc all caught up in strings.

Tay doesn’t remember much from his past–and that was probably a good thing. 

He didn’t know exactly how he ended up in The Cauldron–a colosseum that had always felt so giant and grand to him when it should’ve been seen for what it was; a cage. He couldn’t remember how he–a chagrian with nothing to his name– found his only home to be one of cages and chains. 

However, as he got older, he had his theories. Theories that all boiled down to one obvious claim: his parents–whoever they were–didn’t care about him enough to keep him. Instead, all he was to them was a quick paycheck, sold to slavers who took him away to the colosseum to train and fight until the inevitable day he died a gruesome death in the name of entertainment and credits. 

And maybe he should’ve died a gruesome death the first time he was put into a match once he was old enough, but he was determined to prove something. He was determined to prove he was more than what was assumed of him. To prove to his bastard parents he was more than a paycheck–wherever they were. To prove he deserved every right to exist in the galaxy like the rest of them. 

So he fought. He fought and he won. And the cheers and praise that came once he’d won his debut match? They were addicting. 

Continue the story on Ao3 >>

Taglist: @stardume, @perilmax, @tbnrpotato

If you enjoyed what you read and would like to be notified when the chapters are officially published - feel free to join the tag list! Just let me know in this post, dms, or fill out this form!

If you're new to the squad; check out these links to learn more about them: 💫 Silly Squad Masterlist 💫 Baddies Batch Masterlist 

Thank you so much for reading!! 🩵💫 Reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!!

Banners and dividers all made by me :P

[thatringboy]

God am I obsessed with the Wrong Origin drabble you made

Everyone else knows things they should not. Meanwhile, Lae’zel and Astarion are just good people now against their will

And yeah it’s silly but it’s also showing just how much Tav impacts the story. When they’re not there, there is a whole that needs to be filled. It can be the other Origins or someone like Halsin to an extent, but who deciphered Astarion’s scars? Who taught Gale that his pursuit of Mystra was so toxic? Who sought out Wyll on the shore to keep him company? Who listened to Shadowheart’s discoveries of the world around her? Who was the Good Cop to Lae’zel’s Bad Cop? Tav is the main character, they can’t just be gone

And now we’ve taken it a step further. They’re not just gone, they used to exist and now they don’t. There is a footprint, a hole, a noticeable absence that nobody can pinpoint! Who is it?! Who introduced Karlach to Dammon?! Who stopped Wyll from violating his morals?!

And the question remains: how do we get that person back?

Nooooo it was just a silly little drabble don’t read too deep into it—

But honestly? It was so easy to blame Wyll.

His good-doer attitude must have been rubbing off via tadpole magic, that must be why Astarion went out of his way to edit and compliment the little Tiefling boy’s hand-written story about him. Young Mirkon was a stupid child, for sure, but he had talent with eyeing valuables and spinning a narrative. All of those children did, Astarion’s undead heart swelled thinking of all the mischief they would get into in the city. He was glad he invested in their future prospects.

Wait— What the Hells was he thinking?! He was the great vampire spawn Astarion! He shouldn’t be getting emotional over some random kids, he should be focusing on getting this tadpole out of his head! He needed to distance himself from Wyll, that goody two-shoes Warlock was making him act a fool in the worst way possible.

The wine was dry and sour, but everyone was too busy celebrating their victory against the goblins to pay attention. Or maybe the bottle Astarion has was just a bad batch. It’d happened before. He had noticed Wyll had snuck off before the festivities began, most likely not wanting the refugees to see his new devilish look. Astarion felt a little bit of pity for him, but also found himself admiring how he bravely stood up to Mizora to protect Karlach. If Astarion focused, he could almost imagine someone doing the same for him…

Another preposterous thought. The tadpoles were really messing with him now. He needed to focus on enjoying the party and maybe finding someone to curl up with for the night. Halsin was certainly his type and a glimmer in the elf’s eye told Astarion that he was as experienced as he looked. Yet, Halsin also looked like the type to linger too long after a nightly escapade. Astarion didn’t do clingy. Lae’zel was eager, but too eager. Best to leave her in pursuit of Wyll like she had mentioned earlier. Shadowheart? No, definitely not. Gale was promising, but with the magic bomb in his chest? Probably not the safest option. And Karlach wasn’t even an option with that Infernal Engine in her chest. So who did that leave? Astarion felt himself hoping someone would come find him at his tent and proposition him, but who?

In the end, Astarion spent the night by himself, contemplating his place in the universe and wondering why fate had set him on this path.

He laid himself down in his tent and stared at the stars through a small opening in the fabric. He could only see a few through the pinhole, but they looked beautiful. Beautiful, what a profound word that was. Just outside his tent, there were drunk tieflings and snoozing bards and tadpole-ridden idiots that Astarion would have never agreed to team up with in the first place if he had the choice, but here he was. Staring at the same sky as the rest of them.

He didn’t need to sleep, and it was still odd to rest the entire night, but he did close his eyes and allow himself to meditate. He felt the tingle of the sun peak through his tent and opened his eyes, feeling somehow more refreshed than he’d ever felt in damn near two hundred years.

Astarion stretched not unlike a cat when he crawled out of his tent and made his way down to the waterside to wash himself. As he peeled off his night shirt, he felt the fabric of his small clothes rub against the raised skin of his scars. That damned contract that had been carved into his back. Just one day, he would like to go swimming without worrying about the others seeing the Infernal words and asking pestering questions about his past.

The vampire spun around in shock, immortal eyes darting around to see where Wyll must be hiding in the bushes. Or maybe Karlach? She would know of such things, right? But the tadpole wasn’t churning in his mind, so how was this possible? Astarion reached a hand behind himself and ran his fingertips over the scars he could touch and as he did, words appeared in his mind.

Mephistopheles. Profound Ascension. Sacrifice. Freedom. Diabolical lethality. Raphael. Cazador. And one more name that sat on the tip of his tongue but refused to make itself known.

And then it all came rushing back. Like a tidal wave, images of Baldur’s Gate, Moonrise Towers, an Elder Brain, gods of death and goddesses of night all vying for the souls of a select few, Orin the Bhaalspawn, Gortash the Usurper, Netherese magic and mortal beings trying to become more than their birthright. His skull screamed from the visions and memories and the voice of the Dream Visitor, the one he now recognized as the false face of the Emperor, was the only saving grace he could find in the chaos.

“And now you too are awake. Find them. Find the others and free them as you have been freed.”

Why did this bullshit always happen to him?

[43110there]

I got you <3

Pairing: Hunter/Reader

Summary: You've been with tbb for a while now. As a former jedi, you have applied yourself and your abilities as best as you could for the sake of your new family. When stress builds up, Hunter's got your back.

Warnings: None. Just fluff (yes, it's a little romantic).

A/N: First post to this account! So excited to get started. Just had to write some Hunter fluff. Could probably be fluffier, but more will come. Enjoy! <3

Even behind the comfort of closed eyelids, your eyes stung. It didn't surprise you at this point; after the endless briefings and holocom diagrams from wandering between planets and systems in the galaxy, you felt the toll on both your mind and body. You knew going in that enhanced clones were made to endure more than the average soldier. As a jedi, you were hoping that you could match their strenuous lifestyle on the run. But when Hunter brought up another plan that the batch needed to go over, you spent the whole morning dreading the thought of staring at the blue glow of maps and potential agendas. You didn't realize that you were doing a poor job of hiding it until you began filing out of the Marauder for a quick supply run with the rest of the batch.

"You ok, Y/N?" Wrecker said, giving you a clap on the back. You knew he meant for it to be gentle, but it still managed to rattle you up as you stumbled off the ramp the rest of the way.

"Yeah, I'm doing alright," you managed. The question took you off guard. Wrecker was more perceptive than the rest of the batch gave him credit for. In an attempt to hide your fatigue, you heaved an exaggerated sigh and nudged him with your elbow. "Alright enough to get this supply run over with."

You and Wrecker shared a grin as the rest of the group made their way outside. Omega ran ahead, excited for the experiences that would come with a planet she had never been on before. Echo and Hunter filed out individually, the latter moving a little further from the group to scan the perimeter. The site they picked was plain and simple: a small clearing less than a klick away from the nearest town. Perfect for their errand. As you admired the towering trees around you, Tech walked down the ramp with ease despite being hunched over his datapad.

"We ran a risk going this long without resupplying," Tech stated. "We require more food and equipment than usual, so I suggest we split up. It would be more efficient that way."

"What's the rush? Can't we stay put for a little while?" Wrecker groaned. Omega shared her brother's sentiment, looking between Hunter and Tech with a frown.

Hunter sighed when he saw Omega's face. "Sorry, kid. Not today. We have to get an early start on the job Cid gave us." Just the thought of taking on another side quest for Cid caused a pain in the base of your skull, spreading to your forehead and brow.

"Don't worry, you'll be able to see most of the town while we're out. It's... not much to look at." Echo insisted. Regardless, Omega beamed up at him as if he had promised to take her sightseeing. You smiled at her display of eagerness, wishing you could match her energy. You resisted the urge to push your fingers against your temple in an attempt to dull the pain.

Hunter put a hand on Wrecker's shoulder, glancing at Omega and Echo. "We'll head into town. Y/N and Tech, try to scratch as many things off our list of repairs as you can. Get whatever you need from the venues in town to do it. Just be discrete."

You blinked. You weren't going with?

"You're taking Wrecker with you, so I'm sure we'll be fine." Tech reassured him. It was a quip that would've normally made you laugh, but you were distracted by Hunter's gaze. He looked at you with a brow creased in worry, something barely discernible to anyone else in the squad but you. You forced a smile, hoping it could alleviate his troubled mind. His expression didn't change much.

"Right." Hunter didn't miss a beat. "Meet back here at 1700."

~

You and Tech returned at 1500. After the initial relief of returning to an undisturbed Marauder set in, you and Tech got to work. It was a dynamic you had come to truly appreciate throughout your time with the batch. After the first few rotations of repairing the ship with him, you picked up on the routine and found that you could assist in ways that he didn't need to verbalize. He was appreciative of your help, and you were equally appreciative of his efficiency. But even on most days, he found some way to make conversation while he worked. Today he kept to himself, besides making the occasional comment on a certain part he required for the ship. Regardless, you were grateful for the silence. You spent the next hour handing him things whenever he needed it. After a while, you found yourself holding an unfamiliar gadget that remained in your hands longer than you anticipated. Rather than take it from you, Tech stood up and brushed himself off.

"Y/N, would you mind bringing the rest of the equipment inside? We finished all of the major repairs on the ship's exterior. All that's needed now are a few touch-ups, which I can handle on my own."

You gave a quick nod before you could think of anything to say. Without a word, you hauled the remaining goods up the ramp and into the ship. When the shade from within the Marauder hit your back, you felt your skin prickle with goosebumps. You tried to be gentle with the pack in your hand, but you could barely keep it from slipping through your fingers and hitting the floor. The pilot's chair called to you, and, before you could think any better of it, you sank in. These chairs weren't made for comfort, but at that moment it was the most luxurious spot on the ship. It didn't take long for your mind to drift off, sleep coming with it soon after.

The memories that normally fueled your dreams were quiet this time around. With no plotline to follow, your dreams were practically nonexistent, if not vague and hazy. Unlike most nights, you were hardly roused by anything around you. This time, it took a while for something to wake you.

A gentle nudge on your shoulder tugged you out of the dark void your mind was nestled in. The millisecond that you realized you had been asleep, you jolted awake and gasped at your slip up. You sat up from your seat and tried to gather your bearings faster than your body wanted you to. A firm grasp on your shoulders steadied you.

"Woah, easy there!" Hunter tugged you so that you were facing him, rendering you fully aware of your own consciousness. The way that he stared at you was grounding, even if your mind was frantic.

"Nono, I didn't mean to! The briefing, it..." you trailed off as you looked at the view outside from the pilot's chair. The sky had darkened into a glittery night sky. Your stomach dropped. "I missed it, didn't I?"

Hunter watched your face fall. "Hey, there's nothing to worry about. We had the briefing outside. Tech made some footnotes for you to read up on."

You avoided Hunter's gaze and pressed a hand to your temple. It took you a moment to register that the pain you felt before was now a dull ache. Before you could turn away out of embarrassment, Hunter took your hand into his own and squeezed.

"Cyar'ika," Hunter began. It was almost off putting, the way he could calm you with the tone of his voice alone. "We didn't want to wake you. Everyone could tell that you were feeling off today. Not just Wrecker."

A weary smile tugged at your lips. "Was I really that obvious?" The smile faded faster than you would've liked, but you were tired of putting on a show. Especially in front of Hunter.

Your sergeant leaned forward to kiss your forehead before he replied. "Not sure when the others noticed, but I saw it the moment you got up this morning."

Your eyes fell to the floor. You really didn't deserve all this kindness. You couldn't afford to slack off when you were all on the run, picking up jobs because your livelihood depended on it. But the softness in Hunter's expression insisted otherwise. As if to combat your thoughts, he gently pulled you up and out of your chair. Following his motions, you let him pull you into his lap so that you were snug in his arms. You molded yourself against his body, letting your hand fall against his broad chest. His heartbeat thudded rhythmically beneath it, grounding you even further in his presence.

"You don't have to beat yourself up about it. If you ever need a break... all you have to do is ask. Your health is important to us." Hunter said, running a hand through your hair. The next words were barely above a whisper. "To me."

The hint of sadness in his voice made your heart ache. It must be strange, you thought, having to balance the responsibilities of being a leader while being your lover. It made you hold onto him a little tighter. You wondered if he thought Tech really needed help repairing the ship. Or if he knew you needed a minute to recuperate.

"Thank you, Hunter," you muttered.

He hummed in response, pulling you even closer to him than before. Between murmuring sweet nothings into your ear and running his hand through your hair again and again, it didn't take long for Hunter to lull you to sleep again.

~

Echo was the first one up that morning, much to his surprise. Even more surprising was the fact that Hunter didn't beat him to the first cup of caf. What took the cake, however, was seeing you and the Sergeant passed out in the co-pilot's chair. He made sure to alert the others as they rose for the day, one by one, to let you both sleep in.

<3

[romanrhodes]

where: Rhodes Farm, Hawthorne Hideaway with: Roman Rhodes ( self-para ) when: April 15th 2024

The parcel had been misleading, it had caught him off guard. Roman had ordered a new camera for the incubator, in the run-up to hatching another batch of chickens to increase the farm's egg productivity. So when a box roughly the size of a small wireless camera had come to the farm, with the farm's address with no name, he assumed it for him.

Instead, he opened the box to find another box, and he recognised the brand immediately. His stomach dropped, and he knew he should leave it alone, but his curiosity burned inside him. He opened the box of hard, top-quality cardboard in dark, dark blue and gold lettering. Inside was another box of velvet, in royal blue. He popped it open, and a beautiful watch Roman immediately recognised stared back at him, unmoving. A white face with gold hands, numbers, metal, and a dark brown leather strap. Inside the face were three smaller faces for the day of the week, the day of the month, and the month of the year. In the face of the months, there was a horizon, that would change with the time of day from a glorious, tiny golden sun to a rich blue sky with tiny golden stars.

It was beautiful, and it was at least $300 and Roman knew exactly who had bought it for him.

His hands were shaking as he reached out and pulled out the watch. The leather was soft and the metal was cool and glinting in the morning light of the kitchen. Roman let out a shaking breath, realising this was probably his birthday present. He slowly turned the watch over to admire it, and the engraving on the back caught his eye.

"Our Time Together Is Just Never Quite Enough." - Andrew The air left his lungs, and he choked. His eyes stung and his vision blurred as he read the words again and again. A pained laugh bubbled up out of his throat, shocking him, appalling him. God had a really mean sense of humour.

He lowered the watch, putting his hand over his eyes, breathing as deeply as he could until they didn't shake or catch in his throat. He brushed away the tears that escaped. The feelings were too much, and he couldn't do this right now, he had to go to work, he had things to do. So he took the hot, acidic feelings, the gaping hole opening up inside him and underneath his feet, and forced it closed, forced them into a box, and shoved them away. He would deal with them later, he would open it later, in a safe space where he could feel them fully and cry like the pathetic, hot mess he felt like when he was alone.

He took the watch, did his best not to look at it while he put it back in the velvet box, put that back in the expensive cardboard box, and closed the parcel. He took it and left it in his office, to deal with later, away from the rest of the house.

Then he went back to the kitchen, through to the mudroom and the front door. He put on his coat, and his shoes, grabbed his bag, and went to work.

[iguana-eyanna]

Cold Illusions & Scorching Lies Pt. 12

Pairing: Loki x Pregnant reader

Summary: Many try to tear you and your prince apart from each other. When Loki lets go of the past that brought him to his doom, you begin to realize you’re not the only one who uncovers a forbidden truth.

Author’s Notes: This is the final part of this series! I can't believe I started this almost a year ago! Although this story will come to an end, I'm excited to write future works. Don't forget to like, comment, and reblog and hope you all enjoy it.

Warning: aftermath of birth,

Loki was outside, collecting the plants Eir needed.

He felt calm, peaceful as the morning sun graced the sight of empty valleys and a peaceful meadow that sparkled like diamonds.

He bent in front of him, taking the herb by the root and took the last batch. He walks back to the small cottage to meet her so she could make a remedy for your recovery.

Eir was outside, about to fetch a pale of water.

“I can do it if you need me to.” He says genuinely.

“You’re all right. I’ve been sending you for errands all morning. Don’t want you taken away from your family.” She says, smiling softly at him.

He looks down, blushing at the word: family.

“She’s awake right now with the babe. Go to them.” She says.

Loki didn't have time to reply as he was too excited to reunite with you both.

Each footstep was slow, as he didn’t want to disturb the quietness that enveloped inside.

He slowly opens the door, his heart swelling three times bigger as he saw you on the bed holding your daughter.

You look up to him, with tired but joyful eyes.

“Hi.” You said in a whisper, sitting up from the bed.

“Hi.” He replied, sitting beside you.

You both look down to the yawning babe who was squirming in your arms.

“Beautiful as her mother.” Loki said, softly brushing his fingertips across her head.

“I’m not sure, she shares some similarities with her dashing father.” You teased.

It was true, her hair was curly as her father as well as sharing the same nose.

You cuddled into Loki’s side, admiring the creation you both made.

“How much have you remembered from the delivery?” he asks.

You pause for a moment, feeling a bit overwhelmed from what you felt.

“I felt like my body was on fire.” You said in a low tone.

“It was.” Loki replied, holding you closer.

With the exertion of your powers, the blood he saw, and the birth… he thought he was going to lose you.

You look down and notice at his scarred hands from the burns you gave him.

“Loki…” you said in distress, not realizing how badly you had hurt him.

“It’s alright, they’re healing. Eir is also making an elixir too.” He said.

Your thoughts are not put to rest as you realize a reality.

“She probably might inherit our powers.” You said.

Loki smirks, giving a slight chuckle.

“Already born and she’s giving us chaos.” He joked.

“Stop, Loki. I’m serious. I don’t want her returning to New Asgard if they view us as monsters.”

“We’re not going back. We’re not going to Midgard or the TV-A. We’ll start our new life somewhere safe, where we’ll feel accepted.” He said a bit louder.

You look at him with wide eyes.

“You took half of your lifetime to seek the throne, a glorious purpose. You’re wanting to start a new life in a strange land?”

Loki turns his body to you, his features serious.

“Home is when I am with you. You ask me to build a cottage for you and our daughter? I’ll blister my hands till there is a roof over your heads. You want me to fight the vilest beast to prove my love for you? I’ll waste not a second and fight till my very last breath. You… my love, my life, is my glorious purpose.”

You felt tears fall down your face. You didn’t realize how long you awaited to hear those words. You smile at him through your wet eyes.

“Let’s build our home, together.” You said.

He smiles, leaning towards you where your lips met.

Suddenly, you hear a small cry in your arms and you both chuckle at your daughter who wanted the attention.

“But first, let’s name this little one.” Loki says as you both look fondly at her.

The baby fluttered her eyes, opening to show a warm glow that resembled your kind.

"They look like embers." He whispered in astonishment.

Your face brightens up as you look at your husband.

"That's what we should name her: Ember Lokidottir." You said, with a wide smile.

"It suits her." Eir said, as she was standing by the door not too long to help you take your remedy.

"Hold her please?" You ask, already giving Ember to her father.

Loki doesn't hesitate as he holds her close to her chest, never wanting to let her go.

As Eir finished helping you, Loki walked closer with his daughter in his arms.

"Thank you, for all that you have done." Loki said.

Eir gives a small smile, as she was not known to show her emotions very well. "Frigga was my mentor. Since I could not repay the kindness she has given to me, I was honored to pay it forward to her son." Eir concluded as she stepped out to give you two some alone time.

She paused before she turned at both of you. "If you don't want to leave this realm, there is a small plot of land that's a few hours away from a village. It has enough field for young ones to play. Here are good people, they accept those wanting second chances. You three might fit in." she said as she made her way.

You look at Loki, who was not surprised that a lonesome Valkyrie enjoyed the company of you two.

"What do you think?" he asks, wanting your opinion.

"I'm done roaming worlds. It would be nice to settle somewhere peaceful."

"That sounds wonderful." Loki said as both of you cuddled next to each other with Ember in between you, thinking of what's to come.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Mama! Look at us!" Ember shouted, giggling loudly.

Your eyes looked upwards, smiling at the sight of your six year old daughter with her father.

Loki had her on her shoulders as they raced around the fields.

Your husband's hair grew longer, passing his shoulders. Ember loved braiding sections of it, and he loved that too.

Your toddler son was reaching out his arms to them, wanting to join the fun activities.

"Papa!" Your son, Soren, raised his arms to be carried by his father.

He was born during a harsh winter storm, resulting to Loki delivering him. Eir came once the storm passed, as she cooed over his ruby-red eyes that were like his father's Jotunheimen form. He was an exact copy of his father.

"Come here, my little one." Loki said, bending down for Ember to get off so Soren could be on Loki's shoulders.

Your children's laughter grew louder as Loki was chasing them around.

He fake tumbles on the ground as both your kids attack him with hugs and kisses.

Loki turns in your direction as you usher your kids to join you on the picnic blanket for them to eat. Soren and Ember run towards you as they start eating.

Loki walks up and sits behind you, placing a comforting hand by your waist.

"How are you my love?" Loki asks.

"More refreshed now that you're here." You reply, giving him a sweet peck.

"Eeewwww." Your children said as they saw you two kissing.

You and Loki laugh and you join your kids to eat.

Soon, the children grow tired as they fell asleep in the middle of the day. Loki placed all of the things in the basket you brought and carried Ember in his right arm. You carried Soren on your left.

You were mindlessly talking about visiting the village nearby to get essentials for the coming days until you heard a strange sound coming from the sky.

You two look up and see a ship flying down.

"I don't think we're expecting company." You said.

"Run." Loki whispered under his breath as you two ran towards your home."

"Mommy? What's wrong?" Ember asked, as you two entered into your home in a rush.

"Someone is here. I need you and your brother to play hide-and-seek until we call for you. Understand?" You said.

"I'm scared." Soren said, tears almost forming.

"Hey, don't be frightened. We are all going to be fine. Papa is going to meet these strangers. Hopefully, they're lost and need directions." Loki reassured them before hugging them both.

You both got up as you followed Loki to the door.

"You know what to do if anything happens." Loki said.

You nod your head as you hand flickers with a flame.

"Be careful." You said.

"Since when have I never been?" he replies before he kisses you quickly before going outside.

Loki sees the ship landing on the soft bed of grass and awaits who dared to disrupt the life he built.

"Drax, how many times do I have to tell you that this place is not like the Sound of Music?" an annoyed voice said as the ship opened it's doors.

"Pretty valleys, clear skies, it all needs a woman to sing about the hills, Quill." the person who was assumed to be Drax replied as they didn't pay attention to Loki.

"I am Groot." A walking tree says out loud.

"Nah, this place is too nice for my liking. Too clean." A talking raccoon stated as it walked down the ship.

"I quite enjoy this planet. It's quiet." a kind voice replied as she looked around their surroundings.

"It was quiet until all you flew down to my home." Loki boomed his voice to the strangers.

Quill walks up to Loki, pressing the side of his helmet to reveal a Midgardian.

"Hi, sorry to bother you. But we were told that there was another annoying Asgardian here."

"I don't see how that is any of your business, and what do you mean by another Asgardi-"

"Loki." A voice said out loud.

Loki's heart stopped.

He knows that voice, he grew up hearing that voice.

He looks up to see someone walking down the ship, his arm in a sling with a rock-like alien helping. The man's golden locks were tied in the back, as he looked he borrowed the clothes from the Midgardian.

Loki was too stunned to move and soon realized that the man was now in front of him.

"Hello, brother." Thor said gently.

So many things were happening inside Loki's head. But all he could do was hug his older brother. Thor returned the embrace as they had a tearful reunion.

The two brothers let go of each other, taking in their appearance.

"How, how did you know I was here?" Loki asks.

"I was injured badly from a nearby planet. I heard stories of a valkyrie who was still alive and was a healer."

"Eir." Loki said.

"The very same. She helped healed my wounds and once she knew whom I was, she urged to come visit someone from Asgard. I thought it would have been a survivor from Ragnorak, but some part of me knew it was you." Thor said.

The two brothers hugged again.

"Thor?" a voice said out loud.

Both men turn around to see cautiously at the door, shocked.

"Hello, dear sister. I know how I treated you in the past was unforgivable. I wish to-" He couldn't finish as you ran to his arms, giving him a tearful hug.

"I don't care about before you big oaf. I'm just happy that you're here." You said.

Thor gives a tearful chuckle as he held you tight, missing you.

Loki returns to both of you, with your children hiding behind his legs.

"Brother, I'd like you to meet your niece and nephew: Ember and Soren."

Thor kneels down and beams at them.

"It's very nice to meet you two." Thor softly says.

"Are you our Uncle Thor that our papa tells in our nighttime stories?" Ember asks.

Thor looks up to his younger brother and nods his head.

"Yes." Thor laughs.

Your children gasp in delight and try to hug him the best they can without hurting his arm.

Behind all of you, the guardians couldn't help but feel their hearts soften from the scene. Especially Drax who thought of his family and missed them dearly.

Quill told Thor that they would return so they could give you guys space and time to catch up.

You welcomed Thor into your home as the kids and Loki didn't leave his side. Thor told them about the amazing journeys he has been on with the Guardians of the Galaxy. After dinner, the kids were put to sleep and it was time for the real catching up.

You and Loki explained how he came from the year of 2012 and that he traveled through time to save you before you delivered Ember.

Thor told you two how he dealt with the five years he endeavored back in Midgard.

"I lost hope within myself. I let everyone down, including you." Thor said as he looked at you.

"You were my only family and I turned you away when you needed my support. The people shouldn't have been so cruel to you."

You stay silent for a moment, but you reassured him again that both of you were mourning at that time. He then makes eye contact with your husband.

"I- I should have protected you. I wasn't strong enough to save you back on the ship." Thor said, close to tears.

"You've saved me countless times, brother. I beg of you not to mourn any longer. We have survived through many trials, it's our turn to make peace for ourselves and for whom we fought for." Loki said as he brought you closer in his arms.

Thor smiles at you both, happy that you got to build the life you dreamed of having. Then, you all heard the ship land outside, waiting for Thor to board.

"I must leave, there are many threats out there and I must make it my duty to protect others." Thor said.

You two got up to walk him outside before he left.

"Goodbye, brother. Please, come and visit any time. There's always a room for you to sleep in." Loki said.

"Make that the couch. We will be using that room in nine months." You added, biting your lip as you tried hiding your grin.

"Nine months? Who are we inviting in nine-" Loki stopped his questions, his eyes widening as he realized what you meant.

You smile brightly as you placed your hands on your stomach.

"Surprise!"

Loki took you by the waist and spun you around in the air. Once he landed you on your feet, he gave you a warm embrace.

"I love you." Loki muttered as he kissed passionately.

Once you let go, Thor enveloped you in a hug.

"Wonderful news, I'm so happy that you two got to build a life together." He said with joy in his tone.

"Thank you, Thor. But truly, come visit anytime." You said as Loki wrapped an arm around your waist.

"I will. We shall celebrate the new member of your family.

"Our Family." Loki corrected him.

"Our Family." Thor repeated, touched.

Soon, Thor left the planet with his friends and you and Loki settled into bed.

"What an eventful day." You said, staring at Loki who was undressing.

"Indeed it was." he replied as he crawled into the bed beside you.

"Soon, we shall be outnumbered by our own children." Loki said, placing a hand on your nonexistent belly.

"Scared?" you asked.

"No, as long as I'm with you, I can do anything." He said, as you both held onto each other tighter.

You smiled at his optimism as you tilted your head up where your lips were mere centimeters away from each other.

Loki smirks and leans in for a kiss, thinking how incredibly blessed he was to get your second chance with you.

Cold Illusions and Scorching Lies would never break you two again.

The End.

Taglist:

@geminiwolves

@Lokiskone

@chaoticevilbakugo

@comehomecomehometous

@emma-andrea1

@fredsandlokiswhore

@gengen64

@imboredazfuck

@itsybitchylittlewitchy

@jordynhouston

@ladystark-3000

@oceanmermaidwitch

@purplekitten30

@some-lovely-day

@speedy-object-dream

[soaringeag1e]

Escape {50}

Detective!Dean x Victim!Reader Au

Warnings: Language? All of the Fluff! So Much Fluff!

Words: 2,013

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Patreon

Moving down the hall, Dean smiled at all the decorations that surrounded him. It was all you. You went out and bought an abundance of decor for the holiday and even though he helped set most of it up, it was all your idea and all your doing. And he loved it.

Grabbing the bowl full of candy that rested on a stool next to his office, he reached out for the doorknob and pulled it open to see three kids standing there, all dressed up and holding their seasonal bags out to him.

“Trick or Treat!” 

“Hey!” Dean chuckles, reaching his hand into the bowl and grabbing a good chunk of sweets before dropping them into each one of their bags. “You guys look great!”

One last handful and he reaches out to put it in the kids bag, but he pauses and takes in his outfit, a smile slowly stretching across his face.

“That what you want to be when you grow up?”

“Yeah.” the kid answers, keeping eye contact.

“Good man.” After dropping the candy in his bag, Dean keeps his fist out. “Pound it.” The kid gets a huge grin and does what Dean asks.

“Yeah! Have a good night you guys.” Dean waves to the parents who are waiting on the sidewalk and then goes to shut the door. Once he sets the bowl back down in its designated spot, he looks up to see you coming down the hall, holding something in your hand.

“Did you just ask a kid to pound it?” Dean chuckles to himself, his head bobbing a bit as he walks up to you.

“Yeah. He wants to be a cop when he grows up. He was cute.”

“You’re cute.” you say with admiration, your smile a little flustered and Dean loves it.

“What’s this.” he points to the object in your hand, not really able to make anything out except that it’s round.

“Try it.” you say as you lift it up, holding it close to his mouth as you’re waiting for him to take a bite. But he doesn’t.

“What is it?”

“It’s cake! Just try it!”

“It’s a ball.” he judges, making a face as he takes it from you.

“It’s called a cake pop. Will you just try it, please!?” He turns it a few more times, studying it despite the fact that you already told him what it was. And then he finally takes a bite out of it, analyzing it as he moves it around in his mouth. “So....? What do you think?”

“Is it for the party?” You give him a really puzzled look before shaking off your frustration.

“Yes. Now what do you think?” you ask slower, getting him to glare at you.

“It’s good.”

“It’s not too sweet? Too mushy? It tastes like cake?” Dean can’t help but laugh, trying not to choke on the remainder of the treat as he does.

“No. It’s good. I like it.”

“Good.” you seemed relieved and it made him feel a little guilty that he didn’t answer you right away. He didn’t realize how worried you were about it.

“How many are you making?”

“Not too many.” you reply as you head back for the kitchen. “I’m probably just going to do two dozen.”

“Two dozen!? That’s your definition of “not too many”?”

“Well, yeah!” you laugh as he follows you into the kitchen where he sees some pops made already. “There’s going to be at least twenty people there, I need to make sure everyone gets one.”

“You work too hard.” 

“Look who’s talking.” you argue back, raising your brow a bit when he looks up at you. He tries to deny it by shaking his head, but he knows there’s no way for him to win this argument.

“Touche.” Your playful glare slowly dissipates and you go back to working on the other batches of cake pops. As you do, Dean comes up behind you, holding your waist as he leans in and kisses your neck.

“I love you.” he whispers against your skin, sending chills down your spine as his breath travels along your back.

“I love you too.” you grin, letting your body fall back into his a bit. He’s quiet as he lets you work, but he doesn’t let go. And though the position you’re in is making things a tad difficult, you can’t complain because you love it when he holds you.

“How would you feel about hosting Thanksgiving this year?” he asks out of the blue, getting you to make a face and chuckle a little.

“Um...I don’t know.” you can’t help but laugh some more, but you try to hold it in. “Sounds fun, I guess? But why are you asking me?”

“Just thought I’d be respectful and ask the other owner of the house.”

“What!?” you cry out, laughter bubbling out of you as you tilt your head back and look up at him. “I just moved in! That doesn’t exactly make me an owner. It makes me a...a resident.” you stutter a bit until the title comes to you.

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart.” his arms tighten around you, his lips coming to the left side of your neck. “I don’t plan on ever letting you go.” A light, teenage giggle rises in your throat and you stop what you’re doing to cross your arms over your chest and grab onto him, holding him closer.

Releasing a content sigh, you close your eyes and soak in the embrace. Being in his arms was something you could never get tired of. The safety, the protection, the love. So much was felt in this one gesture and you wonder how you never used to think that a love like this even existed.

“That sounds nice.” you mutter quietly, keeping your eyes closed as you feel him sway a bit from side to side.

“What does? That I don’t plan on letting you go or hosting Thanksgiving?” You bark a laugh before turning in his arms.

“Both.”

November

“No peeking.”

“How can I?! Your giant hands are over my eyes!” Dean laughs as you place your hands over his, feeling you grip down a bit as if you’re afraid of falling.

“I’ve got you.” he reassures, carefully guiding you up the walk towards the front door.

“Can’t you just have me close my eyes after we get inside?”

“No!” he laughs. “Just...trust me, alright?” he knows you can’t see, but that doesn’t stop him from continually looking down at you, just to make sure.

Once he gets to the door, he jingles his keys a bit and pretends to unlock the door. The illusion is just for you as you don’t know who is already inside. He shot a text out when you both left the restaurant, giving the occupants a heads up on your arrival and knowing his hands would be busy with hiding the surprise from you, he made sure those said occupants had unlocked the door for him.

“Okay...step up.” One of his hands slides down to your waist, helping you through the threshold before kicking the door shut with his heel. He walks you down the hall, a smile spreading on his face when he sees everyone there, waiting.

“Okay. You ready?”

“For what?” you laugh, getting way too anxious to see what the surprise is. But that’s when his hands slide from your face. You have to blink a few times to clear your vision, but before you can, a series of voices scream out.

“Happy birthday!” Dean continues to hold your side as you flinch at the sudden noise, but his smile grows just as yours does when you look around the room.

“Oh my God.” you breathe and Dean even catches a little shimmer in your eyes.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.” he whispers just before kissing your cheek.

“Hope you’re ready for dessert!” Sarah calls out as she comes out of the kitchen, a large sheet cake in her hands while Mary trails behind her carrying the candles.

“You surprised?” Dean’s arm yanks you a bit, pulling you into his hip. You look over his family, smiling wider when you meet Sam’s eyes from across the room.

“Definitely.”

Dean decided to leave early. The town seemed to be decently quiet in all aspects and paperwork was pretty much caught up on, so Bobby had told him to take off. Or to quote him, “get out of here and spend some time with that girl of yours.” Everyone seemed to be happy for the two of you, but Bobby was quickly becoming like a personal cheerleader for your relationship.

Stepping through the front door, he was quick to hear a woman’s voice. But it wasn’t yours. It didn’t sound familiar, but it was quiet enough that he couldn’t be sure. After shutting the door behind him, he hung up his keys and moved further into the house. Soon that one mystery voice turned into two, three and four different women. But then the living room came into view and he saw six women sitting along the couch and a couple in chairs from the dining room, and all their eyes shifted to him.

“Sorry.” his hand goes up in an apologetic gesture and then he locks eyes with you as you get up from the couch. “Hey.”

“Hi. I’m sorry. We were meeting at the park but there were all these events going on like birthday parties and everything, and…”

“It’s okay.” he calms you by resting his hand along your arm.

“We’ll be done soon.” you add as if it’s actually bothering him that you have everyone in there.

“Honey, it’s okay.” he chuckles, looking up briefly and smiling at all the other women. “I wanted to work on Baby anyway, so...take your time, alright?”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” he urges, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “And when you’re done, maybe we can go out for lunch?” A smile pulls at your beautiful lips as if you’re pleasantly surprised at his response, but he can see you don’t look as tense.

“That sounds great.”

“Good.” he captures your lips once more, holding you for a bit before letting you get back to your group meeting. “Sorry for interrupting, ladies.” he gives them all a wave and jogs upstairs to get out of his work clothes.

“So...that’s your detective, huh?” One of the women asks with a teasing tone.

“Yeah.”

“Man, if we all had someone like him then we might not be struggling as much as we are.”

“Trust me…” you cut in, a soft smile on your face. “I struggle plenty even with his help. It’s normal.” you sigh as you try to get comfortable in your spot again. “Which brings us back to our topic. Our nightmares.”

The session goes on for a good half hour more before Dean hears a lot of chatter and stands from his engine. The sea of women that were coming out of his house were gabbing away as they headed for their cars. That is until they passed by him, and it went silent as they all ogled at him. A light, off tempo chorus of “bye’s” were sent his way and he gave them all a nice parting smile and wave.

Once they all finally climbed in their cars and started disappearing down the road, you turned toward him, a large grin of your own plastered on your face.

“Now...what gives you the right to look that good.” The question takes a turn that he’s not expecting and he belts out in laughter as he wipes his hands off on the white rag he pulled from his pants.

“Oh, trust me, sweetheart, I ask myself that same damn question about you all the time.” Once you’re close enough, he slides his hands along your waist and hooks them behind your back while you drap yours around his neck and steal a kiss.

“You hungry?”

“Oh...for a few things.”

Forever Babes:

@dnnwnchstr22​ @ricanqueen20​ @onethirstyunicorn @in-deans-arms​ @sandlee44​ @hobby27​ @catching-up-with-kayla @chances-and-miracles​ @superfanficnatural​ @thatmotleygirl​ @sleep-i-ness​ @beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep​ @amandamdiehl​ @coldmuffinbanditshoe​ @deanwanddamons​ @winchest09​ @deangirl93​ @that-one-gay-girl​ @borikenlove​ @foreverlonelyforhim​ @fairlyspnfanfic​ @mlovesstories​ @miraclesoflove​ @flamencodiva @tombraider42017 @downanddirtydean @stixnstripesworld​  

Dean/Jensen Babes:

@deans-baby-momma​ @backseat-of-deans-67chevy​ @michellethetvaddict  @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @starsandmidnightblue​ @lyarr24​ @torn-and-frayed​ @jensengirl83​ @idksupernatural​ @akshi8278​ @iamabeautifulperson18​ @tatted-trina6​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @brilovesdeanwinchester​ @sexyvixen7​ @onceuponathreetwoone​ @cpag7​ @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @deandaydreaming​ @deansgirl215​ @mikadwinchester​ @x-mypeopleskillsarerusty-x @pink-sparkly-witch​

Escape Babes:

@teambuckyovereverything @busy-bee-angel-misska​ @vicmc624​ @xxsovereignsarayaxx​ @cookiechipdough​  @deansgirl215​ @linki-locks11​ @negans-lucille-tblr​ @squirrelnotsam​ @samsgirl93​ @londoncallingbutiwontpickup @percywinchester27​ @maralisa124​ @thecreatiivecorner​ @briagallen​ @fanngirl19​ @supernatural-love14​ @thefemalestorywriter​ @deanwinchesterinthedarktower​ @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba​ @supernatural3002​ @shesnotmaria​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @my-proof-is-you​ @muchamusedaboutnothing​ @mickey-m399​ @bakugouswh0r3​ @redbarn1995​

[whirlybirbs]

FEVER-DREAM    ;    echo/reader 

summary: echo is fine-tuning his new prosthesis. you have experience, you help. unspoken feelings are acted on. adoration blooms. you learn what mesh’la means.

word count: 3k

pairing: echo / f!reader

tags: mutual pining, lots of tender looks, victorian-era hand-touching sluttiness, echo is a gentle soul, reader is head over heels, a touch of ptsd mention, set on ord mantell, mention of our boy fives, in this house we love assistive devices, enough sexual tension to power the death star

a/n: this is me round-house kicking the bad batch writers in the throat because they made echo cosplay a droid — but, also because this man deserves to be treated as more than a means to a mission’s end. majority of you know i am ~bitter~ (understatement of the century) of tbb’s plot/design/writing. but echo has been a favorite from the original days... so have some very soft fic.

i reference character redesigns by @nibeul​ in this piece — please go peep them here, and some updated character spreads here! they’re really beautiful and add a phenomenal layer of storytelling to the existing designs that’s lacking. nibuel’s art and writing is lovely. please give them a follow — i can’t rec their work enough. 

“How does it feel?”

The words are nearly whispered; it’s clear you didn’t want to startle him, and Echo can feel the pinch in his brow soften at your sudden appearence in the doorway. 

His bunk, at the back of the Havoc Marauder, is small — the space itself even more so. There’s a makeshift partition, hooked together with spare parts and meant to offer a bit of privacy on the cramped vessel. Its slate grey color has faded, and the edges have become tattered in the cycles of use. 

When Echo pulls his dark eyes up from his work, you’re leaning against the frame — your expression is earnest.

For a moment, the once-ARC Trooper is quiet. 

He wonders if he’ll ever get used to your attention. Each and every time, it sends him into a spiral; his heart catches as he inhales and tries to push down the warm stir in his gut. The sight of you is enough, nowadays, to melt Echo’s well-maintained irritability. His attention is stolen from his ever-present pain, if only for a bit.

There are plenty of days where he misses the old him — the wide-eyed, eager ARC Trooper who had his brothers by his side. His real brothers. Hevy, Cutup, Droidbait... Fives. 

Fuckin’ hell, Fives was probably staring down at him now laughing. 

No matter what changes, you’re still shit with the ladies, vod’ika. 

In a way he hasn’t fully admitted to himself, you make him feel like himself again. Like... Like some shiny cadet, on leave and distracted by the promises of pretty smiles passing-by. It’s good.

This makes him feel... good. 

He flexes, and his right hand — the new, gunmetal durasteel cyberized-prosthesis — closes into a tight fist. It’s taken him a bit, but the feeling isn’t so foreign now. It’s still... slow. Slower than he’s used to, but you’d mentioned it may take some time. The phantom feelings get better, too. All in all, it’s a good thing.

Your own hand, your left, glimmers back in the same gunmetal color.

(Echo had never pressed you about the missing limb — not until one day, in Cid’s, you’d joined him in a quiet corner. You’d spilled your drink and a complaint about getting the star-cherry syrup out of the joints had slipped out. Echo had laughed; a real laugh, the sort that was so rare coming from him, it had you staring at him as if he’d hung ever star in the sky. 

Can I ask how it happened? he’d said, breaking the heavy silence when your eyes never left his.

The Pykes, you’d said, and that was enough.)

“I haven’t, uh... Haven’t gotten the sensory calibration right yet.”

Then, his prosthesis cramps. His fingers go rigid, and Echo curses sharply as he reaches around his forearm to quickly reboot the appendage. It goes slack, then hums alive once more.

You wince.

You’re slow to move into the room — and you settle atop one of the crates Echo had stolen from the belly of the ship, an old Mantell Mix shipping container. You’re mindful to set his datapad aside, to not disturb his space too much. Before you reach for his hand, however, you lift your chin and open your hands in your lap.

“May I?” you ask, just as soft as before.

Echo feels small under your gaze.

Truth be told, you’re doing more than just... asking. You’re taking him in — appreciating him. It’s a habit that’s grown more and more apparent to not only himself, but the others.

In recent rotations, Echo has let his hair grow out — not long, but the once close buzz he’d kept has begun to curl at the top. Not entirely dissimilair to how it was before the Citadel. The dermal implants, the ones the Techno Union installed in order to parse the nuerological data in his head, stand out against his warm-colored skin. 

His usual AJ^6-inspired headpiece is resting on his bunk.

That damn thing.

A neccesary tool. One that, given the amount of user data Tech had procured when working on modifying the implant, Echo found himself immediately distrusting. It wasn’t as if the AJ^6 cyborg construct had a beautiful track record, and frankly, Echo would like to keep his personality in tact, thank you very much. There were plenty of days he felt machine enough. 

It wasn’t often you saw him without the headset; you knew it made linking in via his scomp easier to handle, it made the visualization of data transfers as easy as breathing. For Echo, it was a part of his vast kit, an important tool. For you, seeing him without it bubbles up a bit of a smile.

Echo catches it.

His eyes narrow playfully.

He looks... well. You — hell, are there words for it? For the way the sight of him makes you feel? It’s like there’s a world full of potential there, a thousand words unsaid, and feelings that have steeped in the warmth of longing gazes and half-there touches.

You’re still looking up at him, knees bent on the crate.

You blink, realizing you’ve been caught staring — not for the first time and certainly not for the last. In the beginning, it had left a sour taste in Echo’s mouth. But, now... Well, it stokes a sort of pride in his chest that he hangs onto. 

It never gets easier to recover from — certainly not when Echo smirks. He moves to allow you to take his prosthesis into your lap. The gesture is gentle; your fingers cradle the firm yet pliable metal.

“What?” he asks. His voice, low and rough and warm, is tinted with amusement.

“Nothing,” you say vaguely with a shrug — as if that’s supposed to explain any part of your enamored stare. Your attention moves to the prosthesis.

“Nothing?” he asks, moving to thumb his left ear with his free hand with a dash of nervousness. A habit. Echo tilts his head as his fingers brush the cochlear implant there. The panel rests neatly against the side of his head, a small rounded-off square. The bite of self-consciousness has dwindled around you — but still, it creeps back up every now and again.

The Corporal’s brows knot playfully as you turn his new hand over in your lap; you’re admiring the upgraded feel, the more seamless panelling in comparison to your own. Echo watches your lashes flutter in silent thought.

Then:

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

You blink slowly at the hand, swallow down your sudden sheepishness and ignore his gaze. You bite back the smile digging into your cheeks. “Maybe.”

“Do I have something on my face?” he asks suddenly, and you look up.

A baited trick. He’s smiling. 

The warm sort — the sort reserved for you and for Omega. The two souls that hold a piece of his heart, with all its ticking valves and electric timed pulses. There are machinisms that keep him alive, and then there is you. Your wide-eyed expression melts, giving way to the sort of smile he’s tried to memorize over and over. It’s the same smile that has warded off that reoccuring nightmare of the night on the tarmac at the Citadel, the same smile that has pulled him through the grit of phantom pains.

“What—” a sudden laugh bursts from your chest, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You were staring, mesh’la,” he rumbles out as a reminder, enjoying the fact he’s suddenly become the center of your attention. Echo leans back, his boot toeing yours. You nudge it back. Your face feels hot. You ignore his pointedly teasing look with a roll of your eyes.

The nickname started a few weeks ago. You haven’t asked what it means — no, for now it’s meaning hangs in the balance. Untouched but there. The affection the word carries makes your heart feel heavier and unbelievably full.

“Bad habit,” you chirp back, looking up at him through your lashes.

His laugh is warm.

“Maybe not.”

“No,” you say quietly; your voice is soft as your eyes bounce across his face, tracing the lines of his face with your gaze, “I don’t think it is.”

There’s a silence that slips between you — a comfortable one. It’s heavier than before. That has begun to happen recently, especially with the petal-soft utterance of mesh’la becoming more and more frequent. You hold his gaze. Echo lets out a soft, contented sigh.

Then, you remember the task at hand.

You clear your throat.

“Uh... The access panel I’m looking for,” you say slowly as your raise your finger to point to your own arm, “It’s on your bicep.”

Echo blinks. He clears his own throat before looking down — he hadn’t even noticed that access panel. That could explain the jarring miscommunication stalling the limb. This model had more bells and whistles than he initally realized. 

Better than a fuckin’ scomp link, that’s for sure.

Wordlessly, Echo makes room on his bunk. You move to settle beside him, your bent leg resting aginst his hip as you half-straddle the bed; your other knee brushes his thigh — and Echo tries to sit still. You’re close, now. 

“Is it okay if...?” you trail off, fingers tugging on the short sleeve of his blacks; you pause until Echo offers a curt nod. You catch him swallow. You push onward, fingers nimbly rolling the fabric up over his broad bicep. 

Echo steals a glance your way as your fingers pass across a slip of his bare skin. 

In his lap, both his hands twitch.

He’s no small man. Lean and athletic, Echo is built like a soldier. Omega had said once that Echo was an ARC Trooper, one of the best of the best. You believed every bit of it, and you’d hung on her words when she’d rambled on about ARC training, about Kamino, and about who Echo was before you knew him. It was all in the past, though. That Echo is a part of this Echo but... They’re different men. He’s been changed by the things that have happened.

You don’t press him on the details. 

In time, they’re slipped into conversation here and there — between the here and now.  

In the beginning, when you’d found yourself amongst the crew of the Havoc Marauder — be it for a simple job on Cid’s behalf — Echo had hardly paid you a moment of attention, though you admit you’d been curious from the start. It had taken three jobs for you to finally see his face. Then began the slow and gradual bonding over catching joints, grating plates, and hardware updates. His legs, your arm. Two pieces of a pair.

Now, he has this. A beautiful new upgrade — something he’s wanted for a long time. A part of his old self is back, in a way.

You liked that it was more than just a tool. That, in having this piece of his body back, he felt like more than a tool. More than a scomp link. 

After all, he is a man — a... a very handsome man. One whose proximity is sort of distracting you, again, from the task at hand.

“The panel here,” you say as you slowly press on the seam that enables the settings panel to be revealed; you’re mindful to explain, “It controls sensory outputs, as well as synchonized synaptic commands. The panel on my forearm does the same to my hand, yours is just... well, you’ve got the new and improve version.”

Echo ducks his head as you work, watching you from the corner of his eye. “Feeling a bit jealous, mesh’la?”

“Maybe,” you breathe out with a smile. 

Then, you lift your eyes. You intended to see that he was still comfortable, but instead you come face to face with the Corporal. His nose nearly brushes yours when you lift you chin, completely dragged in by the closeness shared.

There’s a beat of tension. Echo’s mouth goes dry.

You fingers pause. You swallow hard. “How... uh, how does it feel?”

Echo tightens his grip, then releases. His breath tickles your cheeks. His eyes, a deep, warm brown, flit from your eyes to your mouth, and then back. His voice is a croak. 

“...Same as before.”

You tinker with a dial, eyes never leaving his; your voice is above a whisper. “And now?”

It’s immediate. Like a rush of cold air up his arm — and on instinct, Echo’s hand twitches. His fingers grip the fabric of his blacks, along his thigh, and... he feels it. The smooth, stretch of the material. It’s... it feels like a lot. His fingertips, metallic and cyberized, tingle. It’s distracting.

He can feel. 

His hand is slow. It moves across to bridge the space between you. His pointer finger settles on the curve of your knee; the feeling of your tactical pants beneath his fingertip is ignored, instead he chases the heat of your body.

Your breath catches at the touch. 

Echo’s face is turned to you, but... his attention has settled on his hand. His palm then sweeps across your thigh. He follows the curve, soaks in the feeling. You’re frozen in place, beating back the desperate sound of appreciation that threatens to be pulled from your throat. The touch is... more than welcomed. 

The closeness itself is making you dizzy.

Then, Echo turns — and the warm, durasteel-plated palm finds your cheek.

Your skin is hot. 

“Is this okay, mesh’la?” he whispers, words riding on a quiet exhale — the sort that make you feel... well, you don’t even have words for the way he makes you feel. Echo is... kind, honest, and loyal. Above all else, he’s gentle. Despite it all, despite every bit of horror he’d been put through, he’d never lost sight of the importance of a gentle hand. Especially now in a moment as intimate as this. It coaxes you closer.

You lean into the cybernetic attachment, cheek resting in his palm. You nod, then, with eyes eager to take in every bit of this moment.

He chuckles at the enthusiasm. Echo’s thumb, deft and smooth, then traces the line of your lower lip.

The feeling is... the gnawing pain that he’s felt for nearly a year has melted. Finally, the itch has been scratched in his brain and the hollow ache of his bones is gone. It’s relief, and comfort, and excitement and all these beautiful things — and you. 

You’re stuck — you don’t want to move, you won’t move. He’s rooted you completely, and when his other hand — the calloused and warm one of flesh and blood — finds it’s spot along your thigh, you swallow a lovesick sigh that would only exaserbate your desperation. 

Your mouth is moving before you realize it. 

“What does it mean?”

Echo’s eyes narrow, only a bit, and he runs his thumb up your cheekbone.

“What does what mean?” 

“Mesh’la,” it sounds foreign on your tongue. It’s not Hutteese or Twi’leki, not like any language you know, “Will you tell me what it means, Echo?”

The corner of his lips quirk. Your eyes jump to it.

You feel like someone’s reached right into your chest and given your heart a squeeze — and it only worsens when he laughs. He laughs, deep and quiet and warm, like a thunderstorm on a summer night. It feels cruel, to string you along like this when you’re here, lips parted, hanging off his every touch and his every word.

“Beautiful,” he says quietly as his other hand touches your jaw — it’s so damn reverent, this little moment in time, that you almost don’t believe it’s real.

It feels like a dream — like someone has come in and stolen your thoughts from you; like the unrequited yearning has finally stoked a fire large enough to burn you up entirely, a fever you never knew you wanted.

His nose brushes yours.

Your fingers wind into the fabric of his chest. You’re clinging, lost to the moment — and you can’t help wonder if this is how it feels when he catches you adoring him. He’s admiring you so tenderly that you nearly break.

You want to kiss him.

He’s thought about nothing but kissing you for the last five days at least. Longer in his dreams. Nowadays, it’s a constant pull, a constant want.

And now, it’s here — a present and current moment where it can happen. Where he can stop being a shiny cadet and he can make a move...

Enter Omega.

“Echo, we’re back—!”

The telltale hammer of a girl’s boots on the floor signals that the party is back from their supply run — but you’re so far off, spinning in a different universe, you don’t even hear her until its too late... Until Echo is yanking himself away and clearing his throat and rolling his wrist to test the prosthesis in a different way, a less intimate way. 

You blink, then rattle yourself back to the present. Omega is in the doorway staring with a quizzical look. Clearly, your state does little to dissuade the assumptions she’s already making and you can see the gears turning in her head. The dark-haired girl then slowly grins.

“Hi.”

You swallow. “Hi, Omega.”

“...Whatcha guys doin’?”

Echo coughs. “Uh, just fine-tuning the new upgrade.”

“...Riiiiiight.” 

You rub your cheeks and laugh — clearly forced and incredibly pained — as you stand up and nearly ram your head right into the top of Echo’s bunk. It’s met with a hiss of warning from the trooper as he jumps up to try and protect you from the impact. 

“Well! Uh, thanks for letting me help, Echo,” you clap, rocking back and forth on your boots, “I, uh... Oh, Cid called. I should... I should get back—”

“Yea,” he says, straining a bit to find the words, “Yea, I’ll... I’ll comm you if it starts to, uh... If it starts to act up?”

Omega watches the exchange, big brown eyes moving from left to right. 

“Good, great — yea, that’s,” you inhale as you rub your thighs and move towards the door, “Perfect. Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Bye!” Omega calls, waving.

You wave back, smiling. “Bye, Omega.”

Then, once it’s only Echo and Omega in the bunk, the tween speaks.

“...What the kriff was that?”

[pastelpaperplanes]

Big Ol Ask Post Pt. 3 I think

I haven’t drawn anything other than cursed or plain technical stuff w him 😔😔 have these for now but expect more soon!

anon a way back asked what he’d look like next to Overlord being already so big compared to Megs, that’s why you see Lordie if you’re wondering why he’s thrown in that line up!

by the way I have a voice claim for the big purple simp— Jenner from NIMH, he’s so awful but that suave baritone oh it fits too well >:] it’s the ‘humble servant’ line that got to me

Yep! Pharma is absolutely in this AU—as well as the CFau and Crack one too—and in all, he’s still an estranged medic long since booted from any legal work back on Cybertron.

He lost his credibility and more all those years ago when he found himself willing to do his fair share of cutting corners and hastily concealed malpractice to expedite his dream of getting his name down in the medical books—ultimately impressing his dear Mentor Ratchet, finally, in perfecting long-since banned risky experiments and surgeries—not to mention cruel and unusual temperament with the (supposedly) taboo practice of non-medicinal mnemosurgery.

His ambitions and aggression always got the bet of him, this hasn’t changed since he found himself working in freelance outposts. Light years away from Cybertron, he’s made a name for himself as a Good Doctor—but to his under-the-table black market part-dealing clients, he’s just about as bad as a Crooked Medic can get.

Bounty hunters and Arms Dealers like him for his business, a certain DJD member likes him for the occasional berth company and seemingly never ending supply of fresh T-Cogs—but no one actually likes him for his nasty temperamental personality, save for a young and naive Ratchet once upon a time.

Pharma is a roamer, as of recent he’s been a hard to reach mech—seems as if he’s found a little project to keep himself pretty occupied in the last few decades—something about a breakthrough for aiding the Decepticon Energon Crisis :] him and a small, horrifyingly cheerful surgeon are well on their way to completing their first trial batches, it’s safe to say that their little synthetic mixture will have it’s users sated and compliant.

they’ve got that amazing ‘new car smell’ those first few weeks, and instead of chittering like an Insecticons or vibrating their wings like a seeker—they beep and squeak, sometimes even honk a horn depending on the baseline altmode coding, to get their Creators’ attention before their vocalizer truly starts to kick online

It’s cute, but loud

Much like a seeker sparkling, they have to reach a certain ‘age’ (upgrade) to be able to transform completely, in between then they’re still able to rev those engines as a warning should they need it, as well as spin their wheels should they need a getaway HEELIES IF THEYRE LUCKY WOOHOOOOO—for seekers they can hover on their thrusters!

Crusade is actually pretty formal with Megatron. But yeah as a kid, Megs was always known as Carrier, but as Sadie got older and more aware of their surroundings—they definitely came to learn the true weight of that title and the fact that they were the progeny of the faction leader, a fact they should have really held onto with more pride. Not wanting to draw more attention to the already blatant favoritism (and nepotism) Crusade made a switch to addressing Megatron as Sir, My Lord, Lord Megatron, —ect. to better fit in with their fellow troops.

It bothers Megatron more than than he lets on. Crusade shouldn’t have to hide their high ranking as his child, the heir to the faction. Megs is their Carrier and can only order them around for so long, as their Leader however—pulling rank may just allow for their infuriatingly stubborn sparkling to listen to them should a day come where even a Carrier’s plea is dismissed.

Crusade does slip up every now and then and a ‘Carrier’ will slip—often hushed and annoyed though as Megs does like to tease every now and then, gotta remind them that they’re still his baby every once in a while :’)

Optimus however—whenever him and Crusade should truly reunite, will never be called Sire by Crusade, which they so heatedly established early on—Crusade never needed one and they don’t need one now, better to not let the title trigger those long-suppressed emotions. Sure enough though Optimus will get his moment.

actually no lmfao so you’re good! Eh, I haven’t mentioned much plot w them outside of them and Megs, plus bits of potential interactions with Optimus—so the rest of Team Prime is free game :D

For what I (hopefully will have) planned, their interactions with team Prime will be eh,,,interesting to each their own to say the least. Some more stressful than others BUT let’s not get into that until I’ve worked it out—for now I’ll just mention what they’re dynamics would be like when the drama of Oh Shit Boss Bot You’ve Been Hiding a Kid For HOW LONG has died down.

A usually touch-wary Crusade actually is the one to initiate a hug with Bulkhead, he’s the biggest and warmest and somehow is always happy to see them. Plus he tells cool recaps of Earth films and gifts them strange blobish paintings every now and then, all of which Crusade doesn’t exactly understand, but at least the colors are pretty.

Bee is annoying,,,which is what Crusade would say if confronted if they actually liked all the shenanigans Bee suggest they pull together, prank wars to the max, sparring for fun, video games?, DOUGHNUTS and RACES in the fortress halls??? Ahem. they are a super serious soldier, not a hooligan. But honestly, Bee is the one they seek out the most should they need an adventure, they missed out on a lot of this ‘fun’ growing up on the Nemesis—Bee seems to know how to balance a day of soldiering and dumbassery. sometimes.

Ratchet reminds them a bit too much of their Carrier than they’d care to admit. The medic is an old soul to his very core, perpetually tired but quick to snap into work mode, and sweet if you reallllllly squint. Sadie has been taught from day one to always respect medics, Ratchet obviously takes the cake on I’ve Seen Some Shit and for that alone Crusade both fears and admires Ratchet. Again, growing up on the Nemesis they didn’t have too many bots willing to talk much with them—but Ratchet (after he’s gone through his own lot of therapy, him AND Arcee. good lord) has a never ending pile of stories to share with them. Ratchet may throw in a few more colorful curses than necessary—which is SURPRISING bc Crusade thought they’d heard them all back home, but he’s entertaining and tells Crusade how it is, no sugarcoating. For that Crusade is grateful, there’s been too many half-truths thrown about to them in their recent years :’)

Ghost Prowl freaks them out—why does he deliberately have to be so sneaky?? Crusade has only met Prowl a fleeting handful of times (visits from the Allspark come with meaning, you know) and each time Crusade has been given nothing but odd riddles and poetic nonsense. Kidding. Prowl does like his wordplay’s but his given advice is always well meaning—the most firm and direct message Crusade has been passed though was probably most definitely “ Get those two cowards for mecha you call your Creator’s to stop fooling around with each other and SPEAK—at this rate it’s physically paining me that they haven’t begun Ritus and they’re not getting any younger”

Team Prime adores Sadie, they ask Megatron to see their sparkling photos every chance they catch him. And Crusade. hates it.

:) have

We’ve been here before, haven’t we?

[thememerman]

Time for me to scream about Bad Batch again!!

I’ve been seeing a lot of posts saying that Tech shows little to no attachment to Omega, but still didn’t hesitate to raise his blaster on the Pykes (and I’m sure he knew full well how dangerous they are). Which yes, this is true; he’s not openly affectionate with her in usual ways. But Tech in and of himself is not usual!! And he ABSOLUTELY has shown affection her her in his own ways!!

Hunter shows affection mostly by being protective; he’d do anything for her and he already has done everything for her, just like he would the rest of his squad. He makes the hard calls and even when it makes her unhappy he’s constantly being The Dad. He throws himself in front of her at literally every opportunity, he straight up scooped her off her feet and shielded her from Wrecker in an instant when his chip activated. It’s not hard to see how much he loves her. Wrecker of course is obvious in his affection; he carries her around on his shoulders, he takes her out for Mantell Mix after every mission, he stays back on missions and plays checkers with her, they probably have a plethora of inside jokes and generally it’s just very easy to see how much this big tough teddy bear loves her. Echo is less open; he’s not the leader of the squad so he doesn’t have the same burden of making sure everyone is fine at all times that Hunter keeps for himself. He’s an ARC trooper. He’s practical. He’s gotten blown up and survived so he’s a hardened and a tad grumpy. But he’s a softie I mean he really was out here in a bar teaching her how to shoot her bow, pushing her hard so that she can defend herself. You can see how much he cares in how he coaches her and the stern little pep talks. In episode 9, he insists that Hunter needs to tell her the truth about what made her a target to the Kaminoans, because it’s important to him that she knows the threat and isn’t treated like a child, because even though she is a child, the time has passed for her to be able to be one, and he knows this. In episode 14, he wrapped his arms around her and yanked her back onto the ship when she absolutely would have fallen off lurching forward after Hunter fell.

Now Tech.

Tech I think we can safely assume is somewhat of a perfectionist. Maybe not about everything (*looks directly at episode 3 where he insists life support is all they need to fly the ship*) but I get the feeling that he likes things done a certain way and he likes them done his way. Looking at Unfinished Business in The Clone Wars when he’s yelling at Echo to unplug from Admiral Trench’s ship and getting feisty when he doesn’t listen, I’m inclined to think that I’m right. Point being, he doesn’t let just anyone help him with things.

Now we go to episode 7!! He doesn’t even have to tell her what he needs she just gives it to him!! And he gives her a little appreciative look!!

and in episode 8 who does he call to come help him on the bridge?? Not Echo (who is usually his Nerdy Buddy™️ that he trusts to do to things right) but Omega. The one who listens to all his info dumping and asks him questions and is just as curious and tenacious as he is.

Episode 14 she goes skipping off into the woods to find the beacon and who does she give it to immediately?? TECH. And AGAIN with the appreciative glance?? She is his little helper!!! That is not an easy position to get!!

“That is sufficient, I’ll take it from here.”

Oh I could go on about this scene for 8 years and still not be done. Do you KNOW HOW HIGH OF PRAISE THIS IS FOR HER he knows how stressful this is and he knows how easily she could feel like what’s going wrong is her fault and he so gently?? Tells her?? That she DID GOOD AND HE’S GOT IT NOW AND SHE’S OKAY. HE CARES ABOUT HER SO MUCH AND I AM NOT OKAY I WILL NEVER BE OKAY