Babygirl There Are Fandoms On My Dashboard That I Havent Even Heard Of

babygirl there are fandoms on my dashboard that i havent even heard of

You were made to destroy

If you adopt a clone, either familial or friendship, you just gotta be prepared for them to come with an entire squad attached.

These fuckers come in packs. You made 1 friend and gained like a dozen more by proxy.

You aren't getting rid of them either. They're attached now.

reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something

If Trouble Smiled (Fives x F!Reader)

I'm choosing to pretend Fives doesn't die and everything's okay, that way I don't have to think about Rex telling Echo because I'll cry (again). Pairing: Fives x F!Reader Genre: Fluff, fluff and more fluff. So much dorkiness. So much silly. So much laughter. So much pure comfort for my still grieving self over this silly man that's my second fave. Words: 1,658 Warnings: Minor Injury, mention of blood (undetailed) Notes: Mentioned a few fluffy ideas yesterday on a Friday night fun post yesterday (mostly Rex, I admit) and @freesia-writes mentioned I should write some. Fives is (somewhat) lucky he doesn't have an OC I've paired him with (but unlucky he has unrequited feelings for one by his own demand) out of the three I had ideas for, he was the lucky bloke to getmy first x reader piece since 2017 :'D Sort of my first time writing Fives! Rebogs and comments are appreciated, but not obigatory. AO3 Summary: Sometimes, injuries are serious. Othertimes, they lead to the carer having to reach for a plaster, which, with Fives, always leads to so much silliness (such has messing with his most glorious goatee until he laughs, simply because one can).

Fives was going to be the death of you.

Not that he was a whole bunch of trouble in any particularly negative fashion (although it was part of the parcel - having not just any trooper as a lover, but an Arc Trooper at that; after all, they were entrusted to go on some of the most dangerous missions the Republic would face), but the way he smiled at you from his spot on the edge of the dining table was hardly fair.

Amber eyes gleamed with mischief, lips quirked up in the most endearing manner that it was almost impossible to stay mad at him (if you ever were).

"Tilt your head a little this way would you?" You gestured your hands to your left and he did as he was told. At the sight of the (thankfully small) cut, you sighed in dismay. "Did you truly have to get into trouble the first day of shore leave?"

"I didn't want to, I swear." His smile never faltered, even as you reached for the now warm salted water and a cotton ball. You submerged the cotton into the water and squeezed out the excess. Not even the gentle sound of the water finding its way back into the small container made him flinch, which made you wonder what sort of agony Kix put the soldiers through to clean their wounds. "I wasn't the one looking for it." "I don't think the Goatee God was either." With the same tease, you held his prominent chin in your free hand and your thumb followed the fuzz that named it home. "Now, this will sting." "Nothing could sting more than a blaster bullet." His brows furrowed into a wince, the muscles around his eyes flinching, and his jaw tensed as he drew in a hiss at the salty ball on the cut. You rose a brow with a question of you sure? remaining unspoken, and the right side of your lips turned into a smirk you could barely hide. "Still not worse."

"There's not much I can do about it, I'm afraid." Even so, you pressed an apologetic kiss to the side of his nose as you continued cleaning the blood away. "So, who was looking for trouble this time?" "There was a brawl that broke out in front of 79s. I broke it up, or tried to." He pointed to his cheek. "You know how it is."

"Not personally, but I get the picture." You pulled back, happy with the job, and used the edge of a clean towel to dry the skin around the wound. Your brows furrowed now at the start of colour blooming in a tinge of reddish purple. "Must have been a whopper. You're already getting a bruise."

"It felt like one." Fives drew his hand to the back of his neck for a moment before taking a plaster from the first aid kit. "I didn't quite plan on that."

"It's a good thing you're an Arc Trooper then: you're better at thinking on your feet." A pause whilst a grin that matched his own mischievous ones plastered your face. "Until you're drunk. Then you can't even stand on them."

A gasp of feigned insult left his lips. As you reached for the plaster, he retreated his hand as far back as possible. "If you want it, you'll have to get it from me." "Fives, your handsome face has been through enough today as is. Do you want to risk symmetry?" He wiggled his brows in challenge and his grin was best described as boyish in confidence and dorky in his ever-mischievous ways. You lowered your shoulders with a sigh, your face adorned with a smile of gentle, affectionate dismay, and you shook your head. "It seems I have no choice..."

He went to speak, but you already leaned forward and grabbed his bicep with sheer determination. You were leaned forward and arched almost uncomfortably, arms reaching as far as you dared and straining as he shifted further back in escape, but it mattered not. The longer such a game went on, the louder and more common your shared laughter became in awkward entanglements with him trying to escape and you trying to get the plaster from him.

Knees had clonked into each other a multitude of times, and if you weren't bowing hair from your face every few seconds he was blowing it from his own before tucking it behind your ear.

Yet it seemed the only way to victory was to clamber. He, being solid, was impossible to move. Almost.

You had to put in more force than you would have liked and nearly fell into him to succeed, but he was finally flat on the table, arms kept in place, and your body was upon him in such a way that he was unable to take the plaster with his free hand.

He was strong enough to free himself, that was always obvious, but he allowed you victory with a beaming grin at the look of endearing triumph upon your face. You thought you must have looked like a child that had just won so many sweet treats or fluffy toys as a prize, but you were also adamant you could look as silly as you wanted and he'd look just as lovestruck as he did whenever you decided to dress up for little reason except to see the expression.

You sorted yourself into a straighter and a much comfier position whilst you opened the paper wrapping the plaster was in, then took off one of its protective flaps with hands that lightly shook in nerves.

"Alright, my dearest, stay still."

There was nothing to be nervous about except for placing the plaster in the wrong spot, which was hardly difficult to fix with only half of it prepared. Yet, somehow, and for some reason, you wanted it to be just so on him when, on yourself, it mattered not. But it wasn't a negative, anxious set of nerves. In truth, your heart was so full from simply five minutes of silly fun with him, laughter's warmth still taking residence in your being.

It was quickly resurfaced. The grazing of his fingers tucking a stray section of hair behind your ear tickled the light dusting of hair in front of it. You barely managed to press the first half of the plaster down before you swat his hand away and rubbed at the area furiously with a look of stifled laughter and embarrassment.

Fives only laughed wonderfully loud, hands on his chest with his head tilted back whilst you playfully made some form of noise to feign upset laughing in your sheepishness.

"It felt weird." Your free hand managed to finish your job as you breathed himself into a settled state, pulling off the second cover and smoothing the plaster against his skin.

He looked at you with such warmth in the depths of his eyes, fondness in his amusement, and pure adoration in his smile it caused a blush to creep onto your already embarrassed expression.

Your eyes scanned his face once more to memorise the expression for all eternity; your fingers traced the structure of the man you adored, slow and tender from the tattooed Five on his temple, over his cheekbones and down to the wondrous curve of his jaw, and you followed the bone until your thumb grazed his lower lip. You took no notice of how his eyes darkened despite the gleam, too focused on watching where your fingers were going.

But you did, however, take notice of the confusion that began to etch upon his face as you lightly tugged the hair below his lip, you saying some joke he'd said at some point (that you found hilarious at the time) with a voice that came more like a terrible GunGun impression without the idiolect whilst your eyes brimmed with innocent mischief. More amusing than that, was feeling his lips curl into yet another laughing grin once you could no longer contain your own giggles at how silly everything felt. He freed his goatee from your fingers (not that you were hurting him at all) by grasping your wrist, and he kissed the heel of your palm with grinning lips as he straightened onto his other elbow.

"Mysh'la," the way he spoke with sincere tenderness halted your giggling, his injured cheek nuzzling into your hand as he did so, "have I ever told you how beautiful you are when you laugh?" You titled your head against your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear with similar warmth. "Once or twice." Your fingers slowly stretched out until your hand cradled the side of his face, his skin beautifully warm. "Have I ever mentioned how intoxicating your laugh is? Or how bright you look when you're being a complete and utter dork?" "Hm..." His hum was in feigned thought. "Once or twice." Fives' eyes narrowed in affection and his free hand snuck innocently beneath your shirt to rest on your hip, his thumbs smoothing soft circles upon your skin. "So... still think I got in trouble?"

"Nah. You're innocent this time." With your free hand, you grasped his chin again and softly ran your thumb across the fuzz you had such a soft spot for with subconscious movements. "And the most glorious goatee lives to fight another day."

With a feigned pout, Fives released your hand to bring his own to your cheek, guiding you closer until he could trail his palm to the back of your neck to finish pulling you to him. "Those words from you sting more than salt to the wound."

"Don't worry, my love," once more, your thumb grazed his lips and you couldn't help the smirk at the sight of his eyes darkening again at your tease. His grasp on your waist tightened and his touches halted to keep you still. "I'm all yours."

Pls- I still don’t know 💀

I’ve been thinking…And I can’t get this out of my head

Friggin- What are Commander Bly’s face markings? Like- are they paint? Are they tattoos? Are they stickers?

WHAT ARE THEY