MODERN AUs | The Bad Batch
CONTENT: The Bad Batch and my favorite Modern AU tropes <3
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You recently moved into a quiet little neighborhood for your new job, and the quiet suburban street already captured your heart because of its scenery and the peaceful atmosphere. Plus, the amount of cute dogs being walked around was also a nice bonus!
You were hauling boxes from your car, making a round of trips back and forth along the front yard towards your porch. It was a tiring task to do all by yourself, but you had no one else to help you. And it's the last of your stuff anyway, the rest of the heavier boxes were moved in by the courier guys earlier that morning.
Exhaling, you wiped off the sweat gathering at your temple when you heard a voice from beside you.
"Hi there!" A little blonde girl greeted you over the fence, waving her hand around. "Are you our new neighbor?"
You glanced up, surprised to find the girl there. Nevertheless, you offered her a tired smile and nodded.
"Yup, just moved in today! Nice to meet you, new neighbor. Currently taking a break here before I start again."
"That looks like a lot. Do you need any help?"
"Oh, no. I'm fine! Don't worry, I can manage, but thank you. . ."
"Omega," The blonde supplied for you, smiling wider. "And nice to meet you too! Be right back, I'm gonna call my dad to come and help."
You blinked, hand raised to stop her, but she was already sprinting away inside her house. A few moments later, she came out again with a man in tow. And your jaw dropped at the sight of her dad—broad shouldered, ruggedly handsome, a swagger in his gait, and the most interesting tattoo you ever saw.
The moment you locked gazes, it was as if there was a spark of connection that clicked. His eyes widened by a fraction, almost like he was surprised by you as well, while you swallowed the sudden lump in your throat when you noticed how those dark eyes trailed down your body—subtly appraising you.
"Here's my dad!" Bright little Omega announced, tugging the man by his wrist. "I told him we should help the new neighbor, and he said yes."
Finally, you tore your eyes away from her dad and smiled down at her. Though, you could still feel his stare stuck on you, causing your cheeks to flush deeper. And it was not from the exertion.
"That's kind of you Omega, thank you."
Then, the girl was skipping towards your car, leaving you and her dad alone.
Before you could speak, the man was extending his hand out towards you. "I'm Hunter, Omega's father. It's nice to meet you, new neighbor."
You smiled, more bashful now, and shook his hand. "Likewise, Hunter. Although, I'm sorry to bother you. I hope you weren't too busy with anything before she asked you to help?"
Hunter merely shook his head, his smile growing when he looked at his daughter carrying a bag in her arms.
"No, we were just spending the weekend baking. Which reminds me, after we're done, maybe you'd want some of the brownies we made?"
You held up your hands, about to refuse, when Omega's voice resonated from behind.
"Yeah! We made tons. Come eat with us after we're done with your stuff!"
Well, with no choice left, you agreed with a laugh. And for another hour, the father-daughter duo helped you with the remainder of your boxes. They were even kind enough to piece the furniture together. When the three of you were finally finished, Omega was tugging you back to their house—excited to share her homemade brownies with you.
And that was the start of your close friendship with your neighbors. As the weeks passed, your bond with them only grew more whenever Omega invited you over for dinner with the excuse of "We made too many again."
But you knew the reason why she was so adamant in having your company over, because there was something going on between you and her father. Not yet, at least, but there was definitely something that was yet to be addressed.
He called you mesh'la ever since the first moment he helped you, always offering to fix any broken parts in your home, finding an excuse to talk with you for hours. Then, there were the lingering glances and touches. You noticed how his hand seemed to stay on your waist for a second longer than necessary, you also noticed how his eyes and voice softened when talking to you.
How he's always there in an instant when you call him over for help, looking concerned and asking what's wrong in that soft tone. You also saw the way he looked at you when you were with Omega. Most of the time with a warm look of a father, and sometimes with a concealed longing of a man.
In the span of a few months, you've made their house feel new. Because now you were in the picture—and it felt like you've always been there right from the start.
But still, there was a problem with Hunter.
Months of dancing around each other, pretending not to feel the tension between the two of you, and trying to suppress the desire to confess what you've been both feeling.
One night, Hunter came back home from work.
He was tired, his muscles ached for his bed, as his feet dragged across the front porch. He was more than ready to take a shower and hit the hay, until—
He opened the door, expecting to see Omega eating her dinner, but instead found her sleeping on the couch. It would've been a normal sight, and it wouldn't be the first time she slept there waiting for him to return. But what stopped him in his tracks and made his heart pound so hard in his chest was you.
You were sleeping on his couch as well, hugging Omega close on top of you, curled and comfortable against each other.
And the sight melted all the exhaustion in his being in an instant.
Hunter smiled, a surge of warmth igniting in his chest, making his way over to the couch as quietly as he could. He brought the couch blanket over to your bodies, before placing a kiss—a quick peck to Omega, and one that lingered on your temple—muttering a soft goodnight under his breath.
He wouldn't mind the exhaustion weighing his bones if it meant coming back to this.
Back to his home. Back to his girls.
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Your favorite cafe has a new barista, and he’s the one with the kind golden brown eyes, an adorable smile, and forearms that flex when he wipes down tables. You've never seen him before, being a regular customer here for the past year has left you acquainted with most of the staff.
It was obvious he was new in town, and has just been recently hired in this quaint shop. When you came up to him at the counter, he gave you a warm smile and a cheerful greeting.
"Hello, ma'am! I'm Echo, your server for today. What can I get you?"
You returned the greeting and smile, and ordering your usual drink in a familiar flourish. The other baristas would've known your order before you could even say it, after all you've been a regular for the past year now, but Echo was new and somehow you wanted him to settle more comfortably in this place.
"Alright, please wait for your name to be called for your order." He typed something on his tablet, a faint blush on his features. "Uh, may I ask for your name? S-So, I can write it down."
His genuine tone didn't sound like a rehearsed line that most employees repeat on a daily basis, and you told him your name. He beamed, nodding, typing away your name and muttering something under his breath. Something along the lines of "pretty name" and "suits her" to which you blushed at.
You noticed that each time you come back the following week, the new barista was there behind the counter—always greeting you in that shy gleeful manner that never fails to make your heart and stomach fluttering uncontrollably.
Echo, you discovered his name, was not only a hard-working man. He was also a sweet gentleman. Every time, before you left the cafe, he stopped you to ask how your drink was. Then, he'd inquire you if there's anything he could do for improvements, or make any adjustments with your drinks. Something told you he was just finding an excuse to talk to you, but you always found yourself staying longer than you should.
At first, you thought he was just asking you all these because he was new, and most likely wanted feedback on his work. He asked you how long have you been a regular at the cafe, and you got so lost in the moment. And during the whole time, Echo listened attentively—his eyes never left yours.
He remembered your order after the second visit, started drawing little smiley faces on your cups, and always saved you the corner seat when it’s too crowded. It's your favorite spot in the room, and how he managed to remember it was a mystery.
Maybe he's been watching you during the hours of your stay, and you were guilty of doing the same when he's busy serving other customers. The week went by, and you were questioning yourself about the new tension between the two of you. The lingering glances, the one too many accidental brushes of your hands when getting your order, and how he started calling you mesh'la every time you talked.
But you didn't want to assume anything, so you only smiled and thanked him before going to your little corner.
Until one day, the little smiley faces on your cups suddenly became hearts. At first, you assume he was just tired of the same drawing and decided to try something else. So, you ignored it for the time being, even though it made your stomach flutter each time you received another cup with another heart each time you went back.
And every time he handed you your order, he wouldn't set it down on the counter for you to pick it up. He held it towards you, a shy smile on his face, and you closed your hand over his—mirroring his smile whilst you thanked him.
The third week, you finally approached him when the shop neared its closing time. Again, he was wiping down the tables, humming a soft tune under his breathe. He didn't notice you approaching at first, until you tapped his shoulder and smiled when he did a double take at you.
Handing him a napkin, you didn't say anything else and left him in the cafe with your ears burning. On the napkin, your number was written down along with a heart and a short message.
To the cute barista, xoxo
Another week has passed, you haven't stopped by the cafe in fear of getting rejected by the new barista. In the comfort of your home, you were surprised to receive a call from an unknown number. You were hesitant to answer it, but still picked your phone up.
"Mesh'la? Is that you? This is your number, right?"
You know that voice anywhere, and you couldn't stop yourself from smiling at the sound. You were half-tempted to prank him by saying it was a wrong number, but when he repeated the question—shy and hesitant—your heart melted in surrender.
"Yeah," You were a little breathless, so you forced yourself to speak clearer. "It's me. You finally called."
"Oh, thank the Maker!" Echo beamed through the phone, and you smiled wider at his adorable energy. "I was just calling to uh... Well, you haven't been coming these past few days, and– I was just wondering if you were alright?"
"I'm doing good, don't worry about me." You replied, wracking your mind for an excuse. "Just been busy with work and all. You know how it goes."
You felt bad lying to him, but you couldn't just tell him you were being a coward by avoiding him. Specifically, avoiding the possibility of getting rejected, and having to suffer the stinging consequences afterwards. But sweet Echo only sighed in relief, his smile evident through his next words.
"Then, when you're free, maybe you could stop by again? I miss having my. . . favorite regular around here."
You could just die at the spot, your heart bursting into fireworks at his words. You were about to tease him, when he followed it off with another message that ultimately stopped your heart from beating.
"Look, I know I shouldn't be saying this on the phone, but I've been wanting to ask you out for a long time. I thought the hearts would be obvious, but I guess that's my fault for not being too direct. So, I was wondering if you're interested in going on a date with me?"
You've never said yes so fast in your entire life, internally squealing when the sound of his laugh echoed through the phone.
"I can't wait," Echo spoke again, his tone softening. "I can't wait to see you again, mesh'la. Maybe next time, I'll buy you coffee instead of serving it to you."
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The first time you saw him was during one of your free periods, your professor called in an emergency again for the second time this month, and you were left with nothing to do for the remaining three hours until your next class.
When you entered the library, you were surprised to see a stranger occupying your usual spot. A ridiculous pile of papers in front of him, his laptop open at his side, and two thick textbooks on the other.
Taking a look around, you were unlucky to find that most of the spots have been taken by someone else or by a group of people studying together. The only available seat would be the one in front of him.
Having no choice, you sighed to yourself and walked towards his direction. He didn't even acknowledge your presence when you sat across his—your—seat, barely looking up from his papers and continuing to mutter something under his breath.
You took that as a sign he didn't mind the shared table, so you quietly got your stuff out and worked on a pending assignment. For a while, you forgot he was even there. Too focused with a problem you've been stuck for the past ten minutes. No matter how many times you revised your solutions, it was not the result you wanted.
"You missed the variable from your first equation."
You jolted upright, blinking in shock.
The stranger across wasn't looking at you. He fixed his circular glasses, gaze zeroed in on your paper. "If you remembered to include that variable into your equations, you would have solved that problem ten minutes ago."
"Excuse me?" You could only gape at his blunt tone, and he finally lifted his eyes to meet yours.
"Would you like some help? It appears you are in need of it." The stranger inquired, and you fought back the urge to bristle. However, you couldn't even deny the fact you indeed needed help. This problem has been eating your mind away since your professor discussed it, and you're certain you're going to combust if you forced yourself to understand it.
So, you swallowed your pride and nodded.
He only nodded, inching himself closer, completely disregarding his own papers.
"Alright, I will first explain to you the context of the topic. Starting from the very first subject. Followed by the appropriate formulas you need in order to solve the problem. You have your notes with you, I assume? Disregard that, we will make new ones. Oh, and my name is Tech by the way."
And Tech proceeded to explain with the frightening accuracy and knowledge that would've put your own professor to shame. After all the problems have been solved, not only did you understand the subject clearer, but Tech also crafted new notes for you—and they were admittedly much more organized than yours.
After that first encounter, you began visiting the library in hopes to see him again. And he was always there, sitting at the same place you found him time and time again. Even where there were vacant spots when there were not many people in the library, he always chose that corner—and he'd looked up the moment he heard you approaching, briskly adjusting his collar or fixing his sleeves.
Each time you returned, Tech became more talkative with you. He no longer talked about papers, lessons, or formulas. Sometimes, when the two of you finish early, he'll start sharing something personal outside his campus life. And in turn, you start sharing bits and pieces of your life as well. Your bond gradually shifted into something more akin to friendship—but you can't help develop a small crush on him which makes you feel guilty.
One day, you found him again in your usual spot. Though, you immediately paused in your tracks when you noticed that the chair across from him was gone. It made you disappointed, assuming he didn't want your company at that moment.
You were about to turn away and find another spot, when he called your name and waved you over.
"Where are you going? Your seat is here."
You told him you don't see your chair, assuring him you could find somewhere else to study.
"Don't be absurd," Tech scoffed, making a gesture of his hand to his side. "I moved your seat beside me. In this way, I could teach you better. And you do not have to lean forward every time."
You blinked, dumbfounded. "Oh. Alright then."
It's safe to say you were more than distracted the whole time. You pretended not to notice how his hand lingered over yours when he corrected your errors, you ignored how close he was when he was looking over your shoulder to check your progress, and you chose not to be affected when he's murmuring a soft praise at your work.
After you were done, your heart still wouldn't stop beating so wildly beneath your chest. To escape the confusing feeling, you started packing your things away quicker than usual. However, before you could leave the area, Tech grabbed your arm and held you back from stepping away.
"I know our interactions are purely of academic motives," He averted his gaze, voice growing quiet. "But I– I cannot help but wonder. . . if you would be interested in meeting at another setting? Outside the campus preferably."
You didn't know what possessed you, maybe it's the way you found him stammering for the first time endearing, or the way your heart stuttered at the sight of his blush.
But you said yes, softly and warmly.
And Tech visibly brightened at that, wearing a rare grin on his face.
"Good, I have been planning to ask you for a while. I want to get to know you better. And to know if you are interested in doing the same."
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THE GRUMPY NEIGHBOR WITH A CAT
You heard of rumors going around in your apartment complex about a new neighbor moving in that week. All you heard from the apartment manager was that the new neighbor moved in alone, and much to your surprise, he now lives in the apartment next to yours.
As a welcoming gift, you made the effort to bake cookies in order to get on his good graces. After all, it would be quite awkward to share the same floor with someone you're not acquainted with. And so, you took the baked goods after you wrapped them in a decorative box.
When you knocked on his door, you waited on bated breath holding the small box in your hands. From the inside, you could hear footsteps shuffling nearer towards the door.
And it finally opened, you blinked in confusion at the sight of a dark shirt. Until you crane your neck up, and freeze to your spot when sharp brown irises glared at you. And oh, your new neighbor was handsome. Terrifying, but drop dead handsome. His lithe and lean frame almost reached the top of his doorway, he has a tattoo (or was it a scar?) running down his right eye—similar to a rifle's crosshair.
Between his lips, a toothpick shifted as he assessed you quietly. For a while, neither of you spoke. Only stared, studying each other, and you almost forgot what you came here for. Until he finally blinked, opening his door wider and crossing his arms.
You snapped yourself out of your daze, blushing.
"Oh, sorry. Hi! I'm your neighbor, I live two doors just down the hall. I heard you just moved in a day ago, and here! I made you some cookies as a welcome gift."
You held up the small box, a red ribbon tied neatly around the item, and held your breath as his piercing gaze flickered down to it. Another beat passed, and a swirl of embarrassment pooled in your stomach at the realization that he may not like sweets—he did seem like the kind of guy who hated it.
To your great surprise, he took the box out of your hands wordlessly. His mouth remained in that slight sneer, but there was a noticeable warmth falling over his mask.
"Thanks." Short, curt, and direct.
Sighing in relief, you were about to ask him if he was allergic to any kind of nuts when a small sound mewled through the doorway.
Then, a soft mass bumped into your leg.
You almost jumped in shock, until you glanced down and saw a white ragdoll rubbing itself against your legs. The cat mewled again, its fluffy tail wrapped around your shin as it continued to rub itself on you affectionately.
"Oh my stars, hi!" You couldn't contain the squeal escaping from your mouth, dropping down to a crouch to pet the sweet cat. "Look at you! Such a sweet girl, or boy? Oh, you're definitely a girl. Aren't you a pretty girl!"
Immediately, she started purring at your touch, rubbing her head against your palm.
From above, you didn't notice your neighbor staring at the scene with wide eyes. His toothpick almost fell out of his lips. His cat never liked anyone before, and she certainly never purred for someone else other than him. Well, that was his fault—he did spoil her to death—but now it's his first time seeing her approach someone and not get all hissy at them.
"Huh," Crosshair leaned against the doorway, raising an eyebrow at you. "She never lets anyone touch her. Not even my brothers."
Blinking, you almost forgot about your neighbor standing there. You quickly stood up, brushing the fur off your jeans, and smiled at him.
"I guess I'm her favorite neighbor already?" You joked, attempting to lighten the atmosphere, but all you received was an indifferent scowl.
Coughing, you held out a hand instead and introduced yourself. He shook your hand, firm and fleeting, introducing himself as Crosshair before taking both the cookies and his cat back inside.
Ever since that day, you barely saw him out of his apartment. You never really talked to him after that, at least not an actual conversation that lasted for five minutes. Whenever you shared the same elevator ride, it's always filled with palpable tension and awkward silence.
He's the kind of guy who didn't need to talk in order to establish his intentions—his dark leather jackets, cutting glares, and imposing height said it all.
As much as you wanted to strike up a conversation with him, to ask him about his cat, you kept your mouth shut in fear of making a fool of yourself. His icy demeanor always kept you on your toes whenever you crossed paths, yet he always accepted your occasional gifts with a tip of his head before shutting himself back inside.
His cat, however, loved you. Always snuck her way into your place constantly. You ended up being a cat-sitter more often than not, which annoyed her owner to no end. One night, you heard a knock on your door, and you opened it to see him standing there—arms crossed against a fitting dark shirt wearing that usual scowl on his face.
He always came for her, picking her up whenever he arrived home from wherever he went. And you always give her back, it's basically a routine for the past month now.
"She's a good roommate," You joked, handing the sweet ragdoll into his arms. "I think she likes me more now."
Crosshair only hummed, sharp eyes locked on you, glinting. "She's not the only one."
You only gaped at that, staring after his retreating figure down the hall. Only when he disappeared into his apartment, you locked yourself in yours and squealed into your hands.
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After a long week of endless work, you decided to make a lovely dinner and maybe a bottle of wine as an extra treat for yourself. Only did you realize that you were short on the ingredients. So, you grabbed your keys and made your way to the closest grocery store near you.
You lost track of time, ending up grabbing more items than you initially planned. Now that you're here, it was reasonable to gather the things you needed to restock your pantry and fridge. Your cart was almost full to the brim, and you needed one last item before heading back home.
Unluckily for you, the cereal you wanted was located on the highest shelf. You cursed everything—yourself, the cereal box, the person who placed that there—but you're not going home without your favorite cereal. So, you leaned on your toes and tried to reach for the box as best as you could.
"Here, I gotcha!" A large arm extended over yours and your cereal was suddenly grabbed off of the shelf.
Turning to your side, you saw a grinning man who radiated an infectious energy that you couldn't help but feel grateful than annoyed. He handed you the cereal box, before grabbing his own—the same one you chose—and chucked it back to his cart. It surprisingly landed inside, and the sight amused you even more.
"Thanks for that," You smiled at him, placing the box into your own. "I must've looked silly trying to get it myself."
"Ah, don't worry about it. Just helping out a pretty damsel in need." He winked at you, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes playfully at his words. "I'm Wrecker! Need help with anything else, pretty lady?"
Crossing your arms, you tilted your head up and met his gaze. "Pretty lady? You're one straightforward guy, huh. You call every lady you help pretty?"
"Only the ones in the cereal aisle," Wrecker winked at you again, and you shared a laugh at that.
You just noticed the expansive scar running across the side of his head. It brewed a quiet curiosity within you, how he managed to earn such scar, but you quenched the thought when you realized it must've been insensitive for you to wonder a personal detail.
Instead, you tore your eyes away from the scar and met his eyes. "Thank you again, Wrecker. You heading out to check those?"
"Same here. Guess we can walk back together, huh?"
And so, the two of you proceeded to check out your items while having a cheerful chat. In the span of ten minutes, you managed to make a new friend in the grocery store in an unexpected way. Not that you minded, Wrecker's presence was just a ball of sunshine and warm energy—similar to a Golden Retriever who cannot contain its zoomies.
Before you parted ways, he offered to carry all your bags back to your car. Who knew a random stranger from the cereal aisle could be a kind and sweet gentleman? He was beginning to grow on you, and it hasn't even been a day with him. After successfully putting all your bags into your car, you thanked him again for the third time.
He waved after you, still wearing that infectious grin on his face, before he returned back to his car carrying his absurd amount of bags.
You honestly thought that would be the last time you'd see him, because what are the odds of bumping into each other again in the future? However, fate seemed to pull both of your threads back together. Because the following week after that, you were back at the same grocery store to refill your stock again when suddenly—
"Hey, it's you!" Wrecker called from the side, his wide grin plastered on his face. "The pretty damsel from the cereal aisle."
You blinked in surprise, then chuckled warmly as you made your way over to him. "I have a name, you know? Plus, I don't call you the random man who helped me get my cereal, do I?"
Wrecker laughed, loud and carefree, placing both of his hands on his hips. "Touché! Alright, I'll use your name. It's not my fault pretty lady suits you better."
Again, like the first time, he helped you with carrying your bags back to your car after check out. Though, this time, he lingered for a while. You caught up with each other, right there on the parking lot beside your car—laughing and smiling the whole time you exchanged your week's events.
After that, every week for your grocery run, you and Wrecker would meet again—coincidentally or not—in the cereal aisle or another. Until the sixth week, you forgo in bringing your car, since you don't really need to buy much. As expected, Wrecker was already there waiting for you inside.
"No car today?" He asked, and you shook your head as a response. "Oh, that's okay! You can hop on in my ride. You're not that far from here, are ya?"
On the car ride back home, you kept shifting glances to him and he was doing the same thing to you. There was this unspoken tension in the air, and no amount of volume from the radio could drown out the questions flashing across your mind at the speed of light.
Thankfully, you arrived back at your place within a few minutes.
Wrecker immediately hopped out of the driver seat, bounding over to the other side before you could even remove your seatbelt. Then, he opened the passenger door for you, his grin unusually shy.
Your heart skipped a beat at the sight, stepping out of the vehicle wearing your own demure smile.
"Thank you for the ride, Wrecker. And for helping me so many times."
Before he could even say anything in return, you leaned up on your toes and kissed his cheek. Then, you were grabbing your things and hurrying inside of your house.
Once inside, you took a peek through the curtains and saw him quietly cheering to himself. Touching the spot where you kissed him, and even doing a little adorable dance that had you laughing to yourself.
You can't wait for him to find the piece of paper you left on the passenger seat—the one with your number written down on it.
