Commander Mayday Illustration By @nika6q

Commander Mayday illustration by @nika6q

A Match for Mayday: Chapter 2

Editor's note: This fic is a collaboration between @nika6q (artwork) and @dystopicjumpsuit (story)

Pairing: Mayday x Flower Farmer Reader 

Rating: T

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings and tags: fluff and mild angst

A/N: dedicated to @nika6q ❤️‍🩹

Read Chapter 1 here!

After another day of dirty, sweaty work, you hurry through your shower and grab two bottles of beer out of the conservator, opening them quickly and heading to the front porch for your nightly rendezvous. Mayday hasn’t arrived yet, which is a first, so you settle in to wait for him. The sun dips lazily below the horizon, lighting up the sky in brilliant shades of pink and gold, and then fading into a lavender haze, and finally darkening to a field of deep blue dappled by brilliant points of light as the stars blink into view. You finish your beer slowly, and then drink the second as well, wishing you hadn’t opened it so hastily earlier.

It’s surprising and a little alarming how quickly you’ve adopted your evening conversations with Mayday into your daily routine, and how much you miss it tonight. You can’t help but wonder, What will I do when he leaves?

Eventually, once the evening has fully transitioned to night, you stand with a sigh, stretching your tired muscles and making your way into the house. You can’t stay up and wait forever; tomorrow will be another hard day’s labor, and you are already exhausted. Everyone else has already gone to bed, and the house is as quiet as it can possibly be considering the sheer number of clones currently sleeping in your guest bedrooms.

Just as you turn off your bedroom light and settle into bed, you hear the sound of an approaching speeder bike. You rarely receive guests, particularly not in the middle of the night, so you hop out of bed and cross to your window to peek outside. The vehicle slows to a halt in front of your garden, and the rider dismounts and leans against the bike. 

Mayday. You recognize him immediately. He stares contemplatively at the garden for a while, and then he turns his head and looks directly at you. His movement startles you, and you nearly flinch away from the window before you realize that you are standing in total darkness and there is no way he can see you watching him. Can he?

He stares at your window for a long, long time, until at last, he straightens and walks into the house. You don’t hear him enter, and you don’t hear him go to his bedroom, and at last, you return to your bed and will yourself to sleep, ignoring the quiet voice in your head that asks where he had gone. It’s none of my business, you think, and you almost convince yourself.

Rain begins to fall in a steady drizzle the next morning. By noon, the weather is miserable enough to chase everyone indoors. Hexx and Sunni, enthusiastic hosts that they are, round up the rest of the clones for a loud game with incredibly complex rules. You scan the group but don’t see Mayday, so you slip quietly out the door while they’re all distracted. As you make your way to the barn, you hear a rhythmic scraping sound that piques your curiosity. Warm light spills out of the open doors, beckoning you in from the cold, gray rain.

The barn hasn’t housed animals in decades. Instead, you use it to store your farm equipment and agricultural droids when they’re not at work, and as a place to dry the flowers that you sell in the off-season. The familiar botanical aroma washes over you as you enter, along with something new—something at once strange and nostalgic. When you see Mayday, you slow to a halt just inside the barn. 

He has set up a workstation at the open end of the barn, and as you watch, he runs a hand planer over a large beam of lumber, shaving off flimsi-thin curls of pale wood that flutter to the ground. You immediately identify the fresh lumber as the source of the unknown scent. That slow, rhythmic rasping sound comes again and again as you watch him work, and something about it sends tingles down the back of your neck.

Mayday hasn’t spotted you yet, and you take a moment to appreciate the confident way he moves. His bare hands glide over the wood as he feels for rough and uneven spots, and the muscles of his forearms flex and bulge as he drags the planer across the surface. His movements are hypnotic, mesmerizing. He handles the wood with scrupulous care and attention, and you feel a brief, ridiculous surge of envy toward an inanimate object. He stills abruptly, and you raise your eyes from his hands to see him watching you.

“Hello,” you say, feeling a little foolish that he caught you gawking.

He doesn’t look angry, though, or even amused. He regards you with the same intense focus that he had directed toward his project only a moment before. You lick your lips reflexively, and his gaze drops to your mouth and then back up to your eyes.

“I came to see if you wanted to come in out of the rain,” you say, feeling a little proud that you managed to get the entire sentence out without stuttering, even if your voice catches suspiciously.

He looks briefly out the door to the torrential deluge. “I didn’t even realize it had started raining.”

“It’s been raining for hours,” you say. “Aren’t you cold?”

He smiles at that. “This is nothing compared to Barton IV.”

“What happened on Barton IV?” you ask.

“Nothing good,” he replies. “We were lucky to make it out alive. If I never see snow again, it will be too soon.”

“You should be safe from snow here,” you reply. “Even in the winter, we rarely get anything more than rain. It’s what makes Nakadia such an ideal agricultural planet.”

Ugh, am I seriously talking about the weather right now? you chastise yourself. Still, Mayday looks intrigued as he arranges his tools neatly and walks across the barn to join you. 

“Where are the others?” he asks.

“They’re all inside playing a game,” you reply. 

“I’ve never been one for games,” he comments offhandedly.

“Me neither,” you say. “But I’ve also never been one for standing out in the rain when there’s a perfectly warm house available.”

“We’re not standing in the rain,” he points out, moving subtly closer to you, close enough that you can smell the vanillin of the sawdust on his shirt; the salt of his skin; and beneath it, the faintest hint of something spicy and warm and a little smoky—something uniquely Mayday.

“True,” you admit.

He frowns and starts to reach for you before pulling back. “But you were. Your hair and clothes are all wet. You should go inside and get warm and dry.”

“Will you come with me?” you ask. He hesitates, and you scramble to add, “We can go in the back and avoid the crowd if you’d rather.”

“Is there somewhere we can go where they won’t find us and drag us into their game?” he asks with a smile.

You shrug. “It’s a big house. I’m sure we can find something.”

“Lead the way,” he replies.

On impulse, you take his hand and tug him along with you, dashing across the field through the downpour. Mayday follows at a more sedate pace, and he slows you down as his fingers tighten around your hand to keep you from slipping away.

“Don’t you know you know you get wetter when you run in the rain?” he asks, his voice laden with amusement.

“But we’ll be out of it and into the warm house sooner this way,” you laugh. “Come on!”

He allows you to hustle him along, and soon the two of you slip quietly into the back of the house and kick off your muddy boots. Uproarious laughter bursts from the front of the house, signaling that the game is still in full swing. Your eyes sparkle with mischief as you lead him down the hallway and duck into a room, easing the door closed behind you. You turn to see Mayday surveying the room with astonishment.

“What is this place?” he asks.

“It’s my reading room,” you reply.

His eyes widen as he takes in the bookshelves that line the walls; the soft, overstuffed armchairs; the small wood stove that crackles cheerfully in the corner.

“I’ve never seen so many books in one place,” he says. “At least, not paper ones.”

“Holonovels are wonderful, but there’s something so comforting about a physical book,” you say by way of explanation. “I started collecting them when I was little, and I just never stopped.”

“Have you read them all?” he asks curiously.

You laugh. “I intend to read them all, but I have to admit, there’s an embarrassingly large stack of them waiting for me to find the time. You’re welcome to anything that catches your eye, though.”

His gaze flicks almost imperceptibly toward you before he turns to examine the contents of the shelves. “Which one is your favorite?”

“That would be like asking me to pick a favorite child,” you reply. “I can’t choose just one.”

“Humor me.” His voice is a low rumble.

You pull a well-worn volume off a shelf, and then another, and another. Mayday chuckles as you pass them to him.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to get through all of these in the time I have left here.”

“You can take them with you, if you’d like,” you offer. “You can give them back at the wedding.”

“You’d trust me with them?” he asks.

You think of the care with which he handled the fire lily, the conscientiousness and respect you witnessed as he worked on the planks of hardwood in the barn.

“Yes,” you say without hesitation. 

His hair is wet with rain. A strand has fallen forward, and you raise your hand to brush it out of his eyes, but he stops you, his hand wrapping gently around your wrist.

“Don’t.” 

Startled, you meet his eyes. They blaze with intensity, but he steps back to put a little distance between you. 

“Mayday?” you whisper.

“Don’t do something we’ll both regret,” he says quietly.

“Sorry,” you stammer as mortification floods you. You pull away from him. “I’ll go.”

He doesn’t try to stop you as you retreat and close the door behind you. You hurry to your bedroom, pressing your cold hands against your burning cheeks. How could I have misread the situation so badly? No wonder he would have preferred to stay in the barn.

You don’t bother going to the porch that night. With all the rain, there’s no sunset, anyway.

It’s easy enough to avoid Mayday after that. He keeps to the barn, and you have plenty of work to do elsewhere. You miss watching the sunset each night, but it’s a small sacrifice for your peace of mind. Before many days pass, the wedding preparations are complete. The rest of the wedding party arrives, and your farmhouse is absolutely at capacity, but at least by tomorrow everyone will be gone and you’ll have your farm to yourself again until the wedding day. All that remains now is the rehearsal.

It is awkward as kriff. You subtly keep your distance from Mayday as long as possible, forcing yourself not to look at him. You try to focus on literally everything else: the wedding planner, Sunni’s lovely dress, the way Hexx’s eyes light up when he looks at her, the excited chatter of the other bridesmaids. Anything except him. He doesn’t approach you, either, so at least that makes your life infinitesimally easier, even though it stings.

Unfortunately, you can’t evade him forever, and as the wedding planner hustles the bridal party into position, you brace yourself for impact. Mayday moves to stand beside you, and you meet his eyes briefly. He looks so kriffing handsome, it’s unfair. The late afternoon sunshine glints in his dark curls and lights his eyes in shades of gold. You paste a bland, polite smile on your face as he holds out his hand to take yours. You walk down the makeshift aisle on Mayday’s arm—maid of honor and best man, as bad luck would have it. That unmistakable warm, spicy, smoky Mayday scent washes over you, and you breathe shallowly as you try to ignore it. It’s a simple ceremony, thank the Force, because you are too distracted by trying to appear nonchalant to pay much attention to the officiant’s instructions.

The ceremony is set to take place with the expansive fields of flowers as a backdrop, and at the entrance to the garden, a gorgeous wooden archway has been constructed. You realize with a start that this is what Mayday has been building since he arrived. The workmanship is stunning. Up close, you can see that the entire structure has been crafted to fit together so perfectly that it requires no screws or fasteners.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Sunni sighs happily.

You nod, unable to speak.

“I had him install it permanently as a thank you for letting us have our wedding here,” she says with a radiant smile. “Our gift to you.”

Your breath catches as Sunni envelops you in a crushing hug. Wonderful. A perpetual reminder of how badly I messed up with him. Just what I needed.

By supreme force of will, you make it through the rehearsal and the dinner party afterward. The food is beautiful and by all accounts delicious, and you don’t taste a single bite as you eat. After the meal, the group dances and drinks and parties late into the night as tiny lights twinkle in the trees overhead. Veetch pulls you onto the dancefloor and spins you around until you are giggling and dizzy, and for a moment, the ache in your chest eases.

Mayday doesn’t dance, to the visible disappointment of several bridesmaids. He is wrapped up in a discussion with a few other clones—also commanders, if you remember the introductions correctly. You refuse to give into your impulse to eavesdrop on their conversation, instead smiling brilliantly at Veetch, who is both charming and a surprisingly excellent dancer. The music changes to something slow and romantic, and he pulls you closer and settles a hand on your waist.

Because you are not totally devoid of common courtesy, you focus on your dance partner instead of looking back at Mayday. Had you looked, though, you would have seen the way his eyes, unreadable as ever, follow you across the dancefloor as you sway in Veetch’s embrace. Veetch flirts in a harmless, meaningless way that you know better than to take seriously, even if you were interested. Everything about him screams that he’s enjoying the single life and has no intention of giving it up any time soon.

So you dance with him and with Hexx’s other groomsmen, and by the time you stumble, alone, into your bedroom, you are so exhausted that you fall asleep almost immediately. When you awaken, nearly everyone has gone. Hexx and Sunni are still there, but Sunni tells you that Mayday had ordered the men to wake up early and ensure the house was spotless before they departed. Sunni and Hexx only stay long enough to hug you goodbye before they, too, leave for Coruscant, and then you are alone.

Bad Batch Headcanons — Moving Omega into her college dorm room

Because it’s that time of year again in the US, so why not.

Hunter

Look, this man got hit with the Dad genes hard when Omega came into his life. If you think he isn’t going to be the most emotional parent moving their kid into college, you’d be wrong. He hates that Omega is leaving home, but he’s also so excited about seeing her take her first steps into her adult life. Guess who is going to be taking the most pictures of Omega in her new dorm room and with her new roommates and floor mates?

He will be the first “parent” to make friends with the RA. He didn’t plan on it. It just sort of happened. Hunter became the RA’s go-to counselor whenever the dorm gets chaotic and they need advice.

Hunter is also the one most likely to teach a few self-defense classes for everyone on Omega’s floor. Safety is a big must for him. His overprotective instincts extend beyond Omega very quickly.

He’s also becomes friends with all of Omega’s floormates’ parents. They have an ongoing text message thread. (Their kids don’t know that fact. Neither do the rest of the Batch.)

Hunter will also be the one who sends the best care packages. (The entire Batch help, of course, but Hunter takes point on making sure that Omega gets care package from her brothers.)

Crosshair

He is a man of few words, but he is the first person to clock every annoying punk kid who might give Omega a hard time. Crosshair is the one who nips that in the bud before it becomes a problem. He might not be the obviously overprotective big brother, but he is still protective.

Crosshair parks it in the common room if anyone needs him. Just poke him if you need help moving stuff. (He’s probably taking a nap, so be careful.)

He’s also the one who just do happens to leave alcohol under Omega’s bed. Don’t worry. Crosshair trusts her to be relatively responsible, but he also knows what’s up in college. Just don’t tell Hunter about that.

Weirdly, he gets along with all the younger siblings who got dragged in to help their older siblings move into college. Crosshair won’t entertain them, but he’ll be the adult in the common room when they need a break. Kids love that he’s a little shit.

He won’t admit that he’ll miss Omega now that she’s in college and out of the house, but he does.

Tech

He figured out how bad the firewalls at Omega’s college were before she moved in. He found them to be laughable. He also built her a laptop with ridiculously good protection and storage space. Tech is not going to let his little sister have a computer that would be open to any number of virus due to bad college firewalls.

Tech won’t admit to hacking into the registrar’s office to make sure that Omega gets her preferred classes (and the ideal class schedule). No one can prove that he didn’t though.

He’s also made sure she’s got a perfectly serviceable college-appropriate car. The amount of safety features are clearly post-market though. Tech won’t sacrifice Omega’s safety for anything. (He also included a few fun upgrades that he definitely didn’t tell Hunter about.)

Tech established a secure chat room and Discord channel for Omega and her friends. He sometimes pops in to offer computer support.

Omega gets a customized gaming set-up courtesy of Tech. He schedules hang-out time around her schedule where they game together.

Wrecker

Wrecker basically moves everyone into Omega’s dorm. Once he gets going, there’s no stopping him. Every single dad appreciates that he’s there to do the heavy lifting.

After Hunter, he’s the second most emotional person about moving Omega into her college dorm. Wrecker can’t believe how big she’s gotten.

He leaves Lula on her bed when the Batch finally leaves campus. Omega is going to need that familiar comfort when she’s finally alone. He feels better about leaving her there with the knowledge that she has Lula with her.

Wrecker is responsible for Omega’s dorm room decor. He makes her room feel like home, complete with twinkle lights and calming colors.

He’s absolutely the one rocking all of the college swag. Wrecker raided the college store and made sure the entire Batch is geared up appropriately. (His brothers appreciate him doing that. It’s debatable if Omega does as well.)

Echo

Guess who is Mr. Snack and Supply King? Yeah, this guy. He’s the one to make sure that Omega is stocked up on everything she needs to get started at college. Hunter may be the care package dad, but Echo will always do the grocery store run.

He is also the one who finds the best deals on all her books. (Echo and Tech collaborate on that front.) Word quietly goes around the floor that Echo knows things, so he gets hit up by cash-strapped students. (He always does what he can to help.)

Wrecker stuck a college-branded baseball cap on his head shortly after they arrived to move Omega into her dorm room. Echo didn’t take it off. He’s so proud of Omega.

He also makes friends with Omega’s RA. Echo is the one who can help with dealing with stupid shenanigans that college kids get up to when left unsupervised.

Echo is also the one who gets called when Omega and her friends get into trouble during orientation weekend. He’s the one who will definitely bail them out with minimal questions asked. (That conversation will happen with Omega one-on-one later.)

Omega

She’s super excited about taking these next steps into her adult life. It’s a big move for her. That doesn’t mean that she won’t miss her brothers though.

Omega appreciates that they all moved her into her dorm room. Having their support means a lot to her.

She had scheduled calls with all of them set up before she even moved into her dorm room.

Omega has no trouble making friends in her dorm and on campus. She’s also going to be bringing friends who don’t have family nearby home on school breaks. She doesn’t want anyone to miss out on being around family, even if it’s just her weird family.

Even though she’s excited about this new stage in her life, she also gets sad when her brothers leave. She’s grateful that she has Lula. (Omega snuck a plushie from the college store into the car for Wrecker to find to replace Lula.)

+Rex

Somehow, he got roped into moving Omega into her college dorm room. He’s not sure how that happened. It just did, and here he is. So, he makes the best of the situation.

All of the moms love him.

Rex is a very handy guy. He gets all the beds lofted in a timely fashion.

Everyone thinks that he’s Omega’s dad. (He gets a kick out of it, especially since Hunter gets increasingly annoyed by that fact.)

Everyone says how Mando looks so threatening but if ominous flute music played every time I got mildly pissed, I'm sure people would take me seriously too

The Beauty In All, Part One

Editor’s note: written by @deejadabbles

Pairing: Echo x GN!reader Rating: General Audience (but minors DNI) Summary: Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice- still shame on you, don’t take advantage of my kindness! After so many times of falling for people who mock and manipulate your kind nature, you thought that love, true love, was simply not in the cards for you. Thankfully, Right to Love is here to make sure you and a lucky ARC trooper get your happy ending together. A.N: did you know there’s giant garden in the senate building that has tons of different nature environments? I just loved the idea of a reader working there and tending all kinds of exotic and dangerous plant life. Tiio is my Corrie Guard OC and Maura is a matchmaker OC that will show up a lot in my future fics for this AU! Word Count: 2853

Warnings: Mentions of past bad relationships and toxic exes.

Keep reading

— stolen glances.

 ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌«she smiled and looked at me»  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ «i was surprised to see»  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌«that a woman like that was really into me»

summary: awkward glimpses at the bar and mutual interest in each other's person turned into a rather pleasant walk home. content: chris redfield x gn reader tags: pure fluff, comfort, mentions of alcohol, not much plot. author's note: wanted to write something new with chris but in the middle of the work i feeled a little bit insecure, so maybe i will even take this work down, but still, hope you'll enjoy! enjoy your reading) 🥃

The bar exuded a warm, inviting atmosphere that beckoned tired souls seeking solace, dimmed light illuminating the polished wood surfaces with soft light, creating an atmosphere of calm and seclusion from the outside world, the low hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses and quiet music harmoniously combined to form a soothing backdrop for Chris's Redfield visits.

Chris entered through the worn wooden door, his heavy boots muting the plush carpet beneath him, his broad shoulders visibly relaxed as he entered the hideout, the burden of past missions and horrors he had witnessed slowly dissipating, the smell of aged wood and worn leather greeted his senses, recalling the familiar comfort he found in this place.

He took his usual seat at the far end of the bar from where he could watch the room without being the center of attention, the bartenders knew him well and served him his favorite drink without question, a simple glass of bourbon, he sipped it slowly, enjoying the copious warmth that seeped through him, offering respite from the chilling memories that often haunted his thoughts.

But one fateful day, as if the universe conspired to give him a short respite, he saw you, you were a flash of color and life in a dimly lit room, your hair fell like silk, framing your face that seemed to radiate a gentle radiance, lurking in your eyes a depth that is both mysterious and alluring, like uncharted territory that he yearned to explore.

The moment your gaze met his for a moment, time seemed to stop, your soft, bright smile was like a beacon cutting through the shadows and warming the corners of his heart, his cheeks flushed as he turned away, feeling as if went into a trance, for a man who has faced monsters and survived battles, the mere act of meeting your eyes made him feel vulnerable, like a schoolboy enchanted by his first love.

He glanced when he could, his attention was drawn to you like a moth to a flame, every time your eyes met his heart fluttered in his chest and he quickly looked away, feigning casualness, although his thoughts were consumed by you, the way you were chatting with the bartender, the laughter that graced your lips was like a symphony playing in tune with his own desires.

Your fleeting presence became his secret refuge within this haven, he found solace not only in the cozy atmosphere of the bar, but also in your glances, although he never got the courage to approach, he found a strange satisfaction, just sharing space with you, bathed in your unearthly glow in the distance.

True, despite the cozy familiarity of the bar, whenever Chris thought about approaching you, there was an atmosphere of unease around Chris, he sat in his usual place day after day, the smooth wooden surface of the counter was worn away under his fingertips, his unfinished drink stood before him, forgotten as he wrestled with his thoughts and insecurities.

His gaze inevitably darted to you, gracefully sitting at the far end of the room from him behind the bar, you were like a shining star in a dimly lit atmosphere, captivating not only his eyes but also his heart, trying to talk to you, bridge the gap between your two worlds constantly pulled him, nevertheless, he was held captive by nervousness and fear of going beyond his borders.

He squeezed his glass, feeling the cool condensation on its surface with his fingers, watching you talk to the bartender or share a laugh with other patrons, the thought swirled in his head to buy you a drink, a simple gesture that could potentially open the door to conversation, but as soon as an idea formed, doubts crept into him, causing him to hesitate.

Instead, he opted for subtlety, his gaze turning to you from time to time, furtively darting glances when he thought you weren't looking, hoping to remember every detail of your presence, the soft curve of your smile, the way your hair reflected light and how your eyes shined when you laughed — every moment crashed into his memory like a treasured photograph.

There were times when you turned your gaze in his direction and his heart skipped a beat, your eyes met, a fleeting connection from which a shiver ran down his spine, in those short seconds his thoughts raced, his mind desperately searched for something to say, but before he mustered up the courage act, you will turn away, once again immersed in your own world.

It was a dance of missed opportunities, Chris was a man of action on the battlefield, but in matters of the heart he was trapped by the inertia of uncertainty, he would watch you, his feelings build like a crescendo until the weight of his own hesitation made him retreat, there were nights when he finished his drink and, without saying a word, slipped out of the bar, leaving behind only the memories of his stolen looks.

The atmosphere of the bar was a quiet symphony of glances and unspoken desires, but he wasn't the only one to glance, your eyes were drawn to him with an almost magnetic attraction in return, every time he looked away you allowed yourself to cast fleeting glances in his direction, your heart fluttered with anticipation and shyness.

Talk and laughter filled the air, but your attention was often drawn to the corners where he sat, the ambient light seemed to create a halo around his body, bathing him in a soft and inviting light, and as you sipped your drink, you couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to recognize him if not counting stolen glances is a mixture of excitement and vulnerability that has you biting your lip in awkward contemplation.

Your thoughts were a whirlwind of possibilities, dreams that danced like fireflies in the night, there was a longing in the atmosphere, a longing for connection beyond stolen moments, every time he looked away you let your eyes follow his movement, capturing him on your periphery, as if you were stealing a glimpse of a world you weren't sure you could enter.

But just as quickly as those thoughts came, you brushed them aside, the reality of the situation and its uncertainty clouding your vision was a reminder that sometimes dreams are best left as dreams, the taste of the drink and the laughter of friends provided an anchor in the present, plunging you into a world that was both familiar and safe.

Biting the lip became a reflex, a gesture reflecting the internal conflict you felt, the desire to know it, to break the barrier of stolen glances fought against the apprehension that often accompanies the unknown, the atmosphere was a dance between what could have been and what was, each stolen a look and a fleeting thought was a step in the choreography of emotions.

Little by little the atmosphere in the bar changed slightly — the days turned into weeks, and there was not even a hint of his presence around, the dim light that once glowed with a warm and inviting light now casts longer shadows, creating an atmosphere of uncertainty, conversations always continued around you and laughter, but a hidden unease began to be felt as your eyes searched involuntarily for his familiar figure.

There seemed to be an air of melancholy in the air, as if the very walls of the bar reflected the absence that engulfed your heart, each visit to the bar became a mixture of hopes and disappointments, your gaze lingered on the empty place where he usually sat, conversations that once attracted your attention seemed to fade into the background while your thoughts were consumed by the question of where he might have gone.

The bar, once a place of socializing and stealthy glances, now had an atmosphere of uncertainty, the bartenders smiling sympathetically, perhaps realizing that the silent search had become a routine, and the surroundings seemed to hold a quiet longing, as if the very air was waiting for his return to restore disturbed balance.

The introduction to the bar became a place where memories of stolen glances and shared moments flourished, but also a reminder of his absence, the emptiness of his usual place seeming to cast a shadow over all that had previously been able to brighten the space.

Time dragged on and there was a sense of protracted anticipation in the atmosphere, a desire to see him again intertwined with growing uncertainty.

Did he move on? Did he just take a break?

Questions went unanswered and the bar became a canvas for a story that was shelved.

And then on a day marked by an unexpected change in the daily routine, fate intervened, you left the bar through the side entrance, your thoughts were focused on something other than your usual routine, and at exactly the same time Chris was about to enter, his steps carried him to the harbor, which became both his refuge and his torment.

The collision was as unexpected as it was awkward — your worlds collided in a moment of unforeseen connection, his strong body met your smaller one and the impact pierced both of you, the smell of cigarettes and inviting perfume enveloping the space between you, creating an atmosphere both intoxicating and familiar.

For a brief moment he took over your thoughts and questions and uncertainties were replaced by a mixture of surprise and curiosity, for a moment time seemed to stop as his presence engulfed your thoughts, his deep eyes, usually directed down or across the room, now met yours in the most unexpected circumstances.

— «I'm sorry for that» he muttered in a deep voice tinged with amusement, his eyes both apologetic and curious, as if he was seeing you for the first time even though you had been in his thoughts for weeks.

— «No harm done)» you managed to mutter, and there was nervousness in your voice, a blush flooded your cheeks, your heart beat wildly, the closeness of this person who used to be a distant figure suddenly became tangible and real, and the conversation between you went on its own.

The conversation flowed suddenly, like a river bursting its banks, awkward cheers turned into stories and shared laughter, as if your unspoken bond had finally found a voice, the atmosphere between you changed from vague to comfortable, the background of the bar became secondary, and our words danced in the air.

His laughter, warm and sincere, was like music in harmony with the rhythm of your heart, and the initial awkwardness was replaced by a sense of familiarity that seemed both natural and inspiring, as we talked, the world around him seemed to disappear, leaving only his presence and common moments.

Minutes turned into moments, and the air was filled with tension, promising something more, with a spark in his eyes, he offered — «You know, i could walk you home, that's the least i can do after i almost hit you»

The invitation hung in the air, a question shrouded in vulnerability and hope, you felt a warmth rise inside you, a mixture of surprise and delight at the prospect of expanding your newfound bond of acquaintance, so with a smile reflecting the moonlit night, you nodded — «I wouldn't mind»

His coat thrown abruptly around your shoulders was a physical manifestation of his presence, a symbol of the closeness that grew between you as you walked side by side, your steps echoed in harmony, there was almost no gap between you, everything around you was filled with unspoken electricity, a palpable connection that seemed to draw you closer with every step.

Conversations flowed easily, interspersed with general laughter and instinctive touches, the coat around you became a common shield from the cold night air, creating a cocoon of intimacy, enveloping the two of you, with every moment the distance between your bodies seemed to shrink until it felt like you were walking side by side. side by side, not just in space, but in the sphere of common emotions.

And when you came to your doorstep, tenderness played in his eyes, which reflected the emotions that were seething inside you — «I had a great time tonight» you confessed, your voice was a low whisper.

— «Me too» he replied, his voice a gentle whisper that resonated deep inside, the bond between you was undeniable — built through stolen glances and shared conversations.

— «Will I be able to see you again?» he asked, and the question hung in the air like a promise.

With a smile that contained all the hope and possibility of a new beginning, you nodded — «I would like to)»

When he said goodnight to you his fingers touched yours, a touch containing the promise of what was to come, everything was captured by the magic of the moment, and when he left, leaving you on the doorstep, you couldn't help but feel that the walls of the bar, when — then silent witnesses of stolen glances, now they keep echoes of a connection that has finally found its voice.

[ taglist: @roseglazedlens, @sporeghost, @daydreamrot ] dm me if you want to be tagged in my works.

© dmitriene - my masterlist please, don't copy my works as your own, and if you want to post them somewhere else - contact me. reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated, thank you for reading! ♡

heya! I'm not sure if your requests are closed, and by no means do I hope to overwhelm you further with more requests :'D feel free to ignore this especially bc it's more of a negative request aaa

so as context: sometimes I zone out and due to my childhood I will flinch if I see a movement coming at me which at the time I thought was understandable/normal but my bf has already expressed his disappointment every time I flinched or denied physical affection and left me being the one who apologizes for a reflex and I was wondering how the batch (platonically) would react to the reader (preferably female) telling them that story if the reader was the batch's bffs or smth? :'D (plus Cody if that's okay!) I'd be curious to know if they would just try to calm me down or if they would try to encourage me to get that specific thing fixed maybe?

argh I'm so sorry for the long ass text cRIES

again no pressure whatsoever with this waaah

Aloha! 😊

Interesting question. Personally, I think personal space should always be respected, no matter how close we are with someone. In a relationship, most people tend to loving physical contact in many different forms, and I see how this reaction can be surprising or off-putting for some. But with a little empathy and patience, that really shouldn't be a problem for a partner to get used to and accept. If my partner is jumpy with such reflex reactions, I should be able to adjust. There is a reason for this reaction and I think you shouldn't be, or feel pressured to apologize for it. All in all, communication (and an understanding, open mind) is key, as it almost always is. Then there is also the option to try and get that out of your system, so to speak. Therapy might help, it's worth a try or two. After all, it would possibly make things easier for you as well, giving you more comfort in everyday life. Easier said than done, I know. But that's just my two cents. Either way, I'm wishing you all the best 😊 Let's see...

The Bad Batch/Cody x Reader HCs - The Flinch

Warnings: Implied Trauma / Traumatic Reflex Reaction

_________

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

_________

>Masterlist<

Hunter

It can happen casually, maybe he doesn't really think about it, just wants your attention for a moment, but you are busy, and your mind is elsewhere. A brief touch on the shoulder, innocent, gentle, without ulterior motives. Still, you flinch and turn around so quickly, startled, that he flinches briefly himself.

Hunter in no way intended to scare you or offend you, he would never do that consciously. Of course, he apologizes, you are close friends, he knows your past that you confided in him.

"I should have known better, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

He is patient, gentle and forgiving. Hunter tries his best to be sensitive to you and respect your boundaries. He is careful in his interactions with you, considerate.

Echo

The first time it happens, he is so startled by your reaction that he backs away and looks at his hand as if he expects to see it red-hot, or spiked. He blinks a few times, then says, "Sorry, did I scare you?"

Whether you confide in him or not, Echo will never hold it against you. He can understand that your reaction has a background, and he can respect that you don't want to share it with him. This does not change the fact that he will take it into consideration.

He sometimes seems strict and so serious, but he has an antenna for the sensitivities of others. It is in his nature to be considerate.

Wrecker

He is a bit impetuous and very affectionate. Scaring you or triggering a reaction is never his intention, but it can still happen quite a few times. You can speak openly with Wrecker, he is happy to listen to you, he is understanding even if you don't tell him everything.

He will always apologize if it still happens accidentally, and he will never blame you for these reactions. He will rather make sure that others around you respect your personal space as well.

Tech

He is not a particularly physical guy. On the contrary, Tech values his personal space and usually respects that of others around him. In combat, this may not be possible at times, but in general everyday life, Tech tends to keep a polite distance.

If he does trigger that automatic flight or defensive reaction, he apologizes immediately, and you can assume it won't happen again. He himself is not a fan of surprising touches, which is why he doesn't like Wreckers' little nudges at all and usually lets them pass with rolling eyes or critically furrowed brows.

Crosshair

As almost always, his first reaction is a bit grumpy. He doesn't immediately understand what's going on, but he's a good observer and a bright guy. Of course, he notices that you have these reactions more often, even with other people.

Crosshair reads your body language and realizes that this is a learned, habitual reflex reaction. He understands that there is a real, possibly deep-seated reason behind it. Of course, he adapts, even if he doesn't like to admit it, he can be considerate and very understanding.

So you don't have to worry about him. He certainly doesn't respect or appreciate you less than before because of that. In fact, it awakens a certain protective instinct in him.

Cody

At first, he is surprised, but he is neither offended nor annoyed. But he is attentive. As a soldier, he's learned to read body language, to interpret reactions, and even though you might not say anything about it, Cody understands pretty quickly what makes you tick.

You can count on him to pay attention to that in the future. You don't have to apologize to him, you can just be yourself and relax. Cody is always a safe haven.

He also won't let other people maybe cause you problems because of it. Anyone who teases you about it or makes fun of you should be prepared to get in trouble.