chaos-chloe

[chaos-chloe]

Hiiii💕

Sorry I haven't requested in a while, alot of shit happened but IM BACK!!!!! And ready to order my usual. By usual, I mean anything to do with Snipingsoup, Dallas Soup, Dallas Young, Main man of Slackjaw, Ethans best friend, yumi's secret lover (jk)

ANYWAY 😭

Can you PLEASEEEEE write something for soup proposing. I feel like he wouldn't do anything extravagant, like he would def propose in your house while watching a freaking horror movie. And he wouldn't even have a whole speech, he would just be like "I kinda love you and I wanna spend my whole life with you or whatever. Will you marry me?" You know?

LIKE I FEEL HE WOULD BE SO AWKWARD ABOUT IT. because he obviously loves reader. No doubt. Would literally die and kill for reader but damn does this man get nervous around her. HOLY

And reader would just giggle and be like DUHHHH because it's all funzies and awkward but the good type. It's just so them

Anywhooo, have a great day. Take care of yourself and love yaa🎀🩷

-🧸

I got you boo! Now this something Soup would do, i can see it, the vision is real! Hopefully you devour this! I love you more! Im trying to keep steady, I hope life blesses you with everything you need and want! <3

 Kitchen Surprise

Summary: Making dinner turns into becoming a Wife?

TW: Boyfriend!Soup to Fiance!Soup, love, funny moment, soup moment, kisses, proposal

The aroma of garlic and tomatoes filled the kitchen, a comforting, savory cloud that wrapped around me as I hummed along to the indie-pop bouncing from the Bluetooth speaker on the counter. Dinner was coming along nicely – a hearty pasta sauce simmering, its rich red hue promising warmth on a chilly evening. I was fully engrossed, stirring the sauce with a wooden spoon, my hips swaying slightly to the beat, my mind miles away in the simple pleasure of cooking.

I vaguely registered the sound of footsteps on the hardwood, the familiar shuffle that meant Soup had walked in – probably to ask when dinner would be ready, or perhaps to offer a completely unhelpful 'help' that usually involved hovering. But the music was loud enough, and my focus deep enough, that I didn't fully turn or acknowledge him.

Then, a distinct, rather dramatic clearing of a throat cut through the music. It sounded… expectant. Annoyed, even.

I turned, still holding the spoon, ready to quip about his impatience. My eyes landed on him, standing awkwardly by the kitchen entrance, bathed in the warm glow of the overhead light. And in his outstretched hand, held out somewhat clumsily like a forgotten grocery item, was a small, velvet box.

My spoon clattered softly against the rim of the pan. I gasped, a little sound of pure bewilderment escaping my lips. A ring box. Right now? In the middle of pasta sauce and indie pop? My brain stalled, trying to process the visual against the mundane backdrop of our weeknight dinner.

Soup – bless his goofy, adorable heart – seemed to realize the gravity of the moment had finally registered with me. He rolled his shoulders back, then forward, then back again, like he was trying to reset his internal wiring. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his gaze flitting everywhere but directly at my face. He took a deep breath, and then, in a rush of words that sounded like he’d practiced them about ten times, only to forget them all at the last second, he blurted:

"So, um, I kinda love you and I wanna spend my whole life with you or whatever. Will you marry me?"

For a solid second, I just stood there, staring at him, the absurdity of the situation washing over me. The "or whatever" at the end, the way he’d just thrown it out there like a casual suggestion to grab takeout. And then, a small giggle bubbled up, quickly escalating into a full-blown cackle. My shoulders started shaking, tears of pure, unadulterated laughter springing to my eyes. This was so perfectly, beautifully Soup. Awkward, understated, yet utterly earnest and sweet. He wouldn't have it any other way.

"You – you really just said 'or whatever'!" I managed to choke out between bursts of laughter. He blushed, a deep crimson spreading across his cheeks.

"Well, it's true!" he mumbled, still holding the box out, looking slightly defensive.

Through my laughter, a wide, genuine smile spread across my face, filled with all the love I held for this wonderful, ridiculous man. "Yes!" I exclaimed, my voice hoarse from amusement. "Yes, Soup, a thousand times yes!"

I dropped the spoon onto the counter, not caring about the splash of sauce, and practically stumbled the few steps towards him. As I reached him, still breathless with laughter-tears, he carefully took my left hand, his own trembling slightly, and with a tenderness that belied his earlier awkwardness, he slipped the beautiful ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly.

Then, finally, I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug, my laughter subsiding into soft, happy sobs. I looked up at him, his initial nervousness replaced by a shy, relieved smile. And then, in our messy, sauce-splattered kitchen, surrounded by the scent of dinner and the lingering strains of indie-pop, I leaned in and kissed my fiancé. "I love you," I whispered against his lips, still giggling. "Even with the 'or whatever'."

[chaos-chloe]

I'm literally making a dream come true tomorrow I'm going to see my favorite artist live 😃

I'm gonna miss the clooless episode 😭

OMG IM NOW JUST SEEING THIS! IM SORRY LOVEY! AHHH HOW WAS IT? WHOD YOU SEE?! Tell me all! <3

p.s. i want to start a tag (« ✦ TTM ✦ ​​») so you guys can talk to me whenever, however and about whatever so we can all get to each other or just DM :) <3 TTM- talk to me

[chaos-chloe]

Hello! I was wondering if you have any boundaries with requests. Specifically with dark topics such as self harm, suicide, eating disorders, etc. Are these things you're willing to write? Or do you want to avoid them all together? I know a lot of people watch clooless/goons/other ppl they play with for comfort so they also might go to fanfics for comfort as well.

Thank you for your wonderful writing <3

I would down to write it, but not darker topics like murder, r@pe, or on that scale. Would you guys be down to read those fic with self-harm, or etc?

[chaos-chloe]

Hii lovee!!🩷

Not a request or anything. I just came here to make sure you're alright. You've been quiet for a while 💕

If you ever need someone to talk to you, I'll just send my account, and you can talk to me anytime you want.

Go drink some water, get some rest, eat some good food, spend a little extra time on your hobbies and take care of yourself❤️

Love ya🩷🎀

-🧸

Oh sugar bear! ❤️🤗😭

Everything is okay? Um a lot is going on not going to lie you guys, I am got promoted then back to demoted for a good position so I have been in the dumps 😭 then I started a certification program for my job cause I “got” the job and now I feel like this certification has been dumped on me but I “have” to get it done. (Even though I bought it out of my own pocket) so my brain has been mush, I do I have multiple ask that I want to work, but I just can’t at the moment.

Imma get them done though, give me this weekend or Monday and I’ll start posting again for you guys! I just need to drag myself out of this rut.

Please go ahead and fill my ask box up! Imma spend this weekend to make sure I have stories in my queue ❤️

Much love *Mwah*

[chaos-chloe]

Hiiiii, Loveeee

I hope you're doing well

1. You can ABSOLUTELY call me Beary🩷 2. Can you pretty pretty pretty please write something for soup where him and reader keep flirting with eachother on camera or jokingly make dirty jokes. Maybe again, like a compilation type of thinggg.

If you don't feel comfortable to write it, you definitely do not have to. And please please please take care of yourself girlll. Go drink some water, go eat some food, go take a nap, go for a walk. Do whateverrrr.

Love yaaaaa, and your work is amazing. Keep going because you're doing greatt💕💕

-🧸

Clip Flirtation

Summary: Clips of you and Soup flirting together in his streams or videos

TW: flirting bad or good, sexual innuendo, soft love, kisses

I was trying to explain something serious, “ ...and that's why the current economic model is fundamentally flawed, especially when you consider,” Til you noticed Soup was just staring at you intently. “— Soup? Are you even listening?

He leans into his mic, eyes still locked on you, a slow grin spreading. “My monkey brain is too busy processing how good you look when you're passionate, babe. It's a lot of data.” I rolled my eyes with a small grin slowly forming on my face as I started to feel my flush.

“Oh, really? Is that what you're doing?” I asked with a flirty tone as Soup nodded his head to my question.

“Mmm-hmm. It's very… stimulating. For my mind.” he replied with a boyish lazy smile adorned to his face. As his face was speaking more words than his mouth, ‘The classic 'I'm listening but also thirsty' stare,” 

You were sitting right next to Soup, as you two were playing a horror co-op game on stream.Til a jump scare pops on screen with a loud noise.

“AH! OH MY GOD! SOUP!” You yelled in shock, shooting backwards away from the screen; ultimately Bumping into Soup and his chair.  

“Easy, easy. Just lean into me. I'll protect you. Or, you know, at least I'll make sure you go down swinging if the monster gets us both.” His voice in a low rumble purr whispered as he wrapped one of his arms around my shoulders.

“You're just saying that because you want me closer.” You sighed playing into his game, by leaning into him. 

He smirks, “Is it working?” 

You woke up downstairs in your office/bedroom and hopped on the discord call that Soup was hosting . Your office had a twin bed down there just in case you get too “hydrated” from a session too walk up stairs. “Mmmph, Soup? You awake?” You asked in a very sleepy slurred way,

“Barely. What time is it? More importantly… are you wearing pants yet?” He asked in his husky morning voice.

I giggled as I rustled the throw blanket on my lap, thankfully I dont have a face cam on. “Maybe. Maybe not. What's it to you?”

He let out a long southern drawn out sigh that sounds almost appreciative “Just planning my morning. Trying to decide if I need to sprint or... mosey.”

“You're incorrigible!” I squealed in a good hearted laughter.  “Only for you, darling. Only for you.” Soup replied as his voice got more huskier. 

Soup and you were in the kitchen together doing an IRL Cooking Stream, as Soup was whisking the mixture in the bowl, “Ugh, this is harder than it looks! My arm is cramping.” He was struggling to whisk, splattering a bit.

“Maybe you need a stronger arm. Or just... better technique.” You snarkily commented, while wiping  a bit of flour off his cheek with your thumb, then licked it off playfully.

He freezes, starts  watching you, then slowly puts the whisk down, “ You know, I've got something else that could use your 'technique.' Something that definitely needs some... handling.” He winked at me with a smirk.

“ SOUP! We're live!” I yowled, eyes widened, then you burst out laughing, nudging him. 

“What? I'm talking about the stubborn lid on the pickle jar! What did you think I meant?” He shrugged innocently. 

During a QNA session with chat while waiting on the guys to join the discord call, Chat asked "What's the one thing you can't leave without?” 

Soup leaned into his mic, directly looking at me,then back at the camera, “Easy. Her.” He gestured with his eyes to chat to look at me. 

I flushed, ducking my head slightly then lifted my head with a fond smile, “AW Soup! You're going to make me cry.” as tears started to well up in my eyes.

“Just stating facts. Though, a good coffee helps. And maybe my gaming PC. But definitely her first. She keeps my chaos... organized. And my bed warm.” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear gently,

I swat his arm away playfully, “You're unbelievable!” 

After a late night discord call session with the goons, you were sitting right next to Soup enjoying his presence with your head on his shoulder, staring into the abyss of his monitor. 

“I'm so tired. I could sleep for a week.” You yawned with a small baby screech at the end.

Soup grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers together, “ Good. Because I've got plans for you. Very relaxing plans. Involving a lot of snuggling. And absolutely no pants. For either of us.”

You snorted softly at him, squeezing his hand” You are such a pervert.”

“Only in the most loving, respectful, and slightly depraved way possible, my dear. Is that a 'yes'?” He asked lifting your hand to kiss the back on your hand.

“You know it is.” A small lingering soft smile graces your face as you shut your eyes for a second, waiting for him to turn off the stream.

[chaos-chloe]

HEYYYYY I was thinmunf of droid and his trip to japan so is it possible of getting a fic of droid and gf reader on their trip to japan? Just cute fun fluff and maybe like their post about their trip and talking to the clooless guys about it after? I hope this isn’t to much for you love the writing❤️❤️

OO i loves this! i tries something different in the writing style so hopefully it works lol Thank you so much love!

Much Love, Chloe

*MWAH*

Capturing Japan

Summary: 2 week trip to Japan, How fun

TW: Boyfriend!Droid

The electric hum of Tokyo was the first thing that hit me, a symphony of a million conversations, neon advertisements, and the distant rumble of the Yamanote Line. ElasticDroid, my beloved boyfriend, squeezed my hand, his usually calm demeanor replaced with a wide-eyed grin that mirrored my own. Two weeks in Japan, baby. This was happening.

Day 1: Arrival & Akihabara Dive

Our hotel room was tiny but efficient, a true Japanese experience. We dumped our bags and, fueled by lukewarm vending machine coffee (a small moment of pure joy for Droid), we headed straight for Akihabara. It was a sensory overload – towering buildings plastered with anime characters, the cacophony of arcade games spilling onto the streets, and the sweet scent of crepes mingling with something vaguely electronic.

My first social media post went up pretty quickly:

[Image: ElasticDroid standing in front of a giant anime billboard, looking overwhelmed but thrilled, surrounded by vibrant storefronts.]

Caption: "TOUCHDOWN TOKYO! @ElasticDroid is already in his happy place. Send help (or more yen). #JapanAdventures #DroidAndChill #AkihabaraVibes"

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed.

BigPuffer: "Already buying up all the waifus, Droid? Don't forget the real merch!" Grizzy: "Is he drooling yet? Tell him to hydrate." Pezzy: "OMG IT LOOKS AMAZINGGGGG! SEND MORE PICS!"

I chuckled, showing Droid the texts. He just grunted, already halfway into a multi-story electronics store.

Day 3: The Haul & The Crew's FOMO

We spent the better part of a day in Akihabara, and my camera roll was overflowing. Droid, bless his methodical heart, had a list. By the time we emerged, our bags were significantly heavier.

My next post was an absolute flex:

[Image: A flat lay on our hotel room floor: a limited-edition Gundam model kit, a sealed booster box of a rare Japanese-exclusive Pokémon card set, a vintage Chrono Trigger Super Famicom cartridge (Droid’s Holy Grail), a super-soft, oversized hoodie with a subtle anime design, and three ridiculously detailed character figurines.]

Caption: "Akihabara HAUL for my favorite nerd! ✨ You could practically see @ElasticDroid's soul ascend when he found that Chrono Trigger cartridge. More pics & video of his unboxing coming soon! #GamerGoals #PokemonMaster #AnimeAddict #BestBoyfriendEver"

The Clooless Crew chat exploded.

BigPuffer: "NO. WAY. HE GOT THAT CHRONO TRIGGER?! I'M SO JELLLLLY. My ramen better be epic when you get back." Grizzy: "Figurines look detailed. Did he spend all his money already? Classic Droid." Pezzy: "OOOOOH THE HOODIE LOOKS SO COMFY! Can you get me one? Pleeease???"

Droid, meanwhile, was meticulously arranging his new figurines on the small dresser, humming contentedly. A small moment, but one that filled me with so much warmth – seeing him genuinely happy like that.

Day 6: Shibuya Scramble & Robot Restaurant Chaos

One of our big moments was the Shibuya Crossing. Standing amidst the organized chaos, watching thousands of people cross from every direction, felt like being inside a human kaleidoscope. Droid held my hand tight, a silent anchor in the whirlwind. "It's… a lot," he mumbled, a smile playing on his lips. "But cool."

Later that night, we braved the infamous Robot Restaurant. It was an assault on the senses – flashing lights, loud music, dancing robots, and ridiculously dressed performers. Droid, usually quite reserved, was laughing out loud, his face illuminated by the neon glow. It was cheesy, over-the-top, and utterly unforgettable. A truly big, ridiculously fun moment.

I posted a chaotic video clip:

[Video: Super shaky footage of a giant robot fighting a woman in a neon bikini, while Droid tries to wipe tears of laughter from his eyes. Lots of flashing lights and loud music.]

Caption: "My brain cells are leaving my body, but @ElasticDroid is having the time of his life. Send help. And earplugs. #RobotRestaurant #TokyoNights #SensoryOverload"

Day 9: Kyoto Serenity & The Bamboo Forest

After the Tokyo whirlwind, Kyoto felt like a different world. We took the Shinkansen – another small moment of wonder, watching the landscape blur past at incredible speeds. Kyoto was ancient temples, serene gardens, and the delicate scent of incense.

Our big moment here was Fushimi Inari Taisha. Walking through the thousands of vermilion torii gates, climbing higher and higher, felt almost spiritual. The air was cooler, the sounds softer. We stopped near the summit, looking out over the city, the setting sun painting the sky in fiery hues. Droid put his arm around me, and for a long moment, we just stood there in comfortable silence, taking it all in. It felt incredibly personal, a quiet connection amidst grandeur.

My post was a bit more reflective:

[Image: Silhouetted against the sunset, Droid and I are holding hands, looking out over Kyoto from Fushimi Inari. The torii gates stretch behind us.]

Caption: "From the electric buzz of Tokyo to the serene beauty of Kyoto. Fushimi Inari was breathtaking. Soaking up every moment with @ElasticDroid. ✨ #KyotoVibes #FushimiInari #TravelBuddies"

BigPuffer: "Wow, actual culture! Didn't think Droid left the arcade." Grizzy: "Looks peaceful. Don't fall. And tell Droid to smile for once." Pezzy: "SO PRETTY! Is that where they have the cute foxes? Did you see any?"

I texted back: "Yes, loads of fox statues, Pez! And Grizzy, Droid is smiling, it's just an internal gamer smile."

Day 12: Osaka & Universal Studios Japan

Osaka was all about food and fun. Dotonbori was a feast for the senses, with the giant Glico Man sign overseeing everything. We ate takoyaki, okonomiyaki, and so much ramen we thought we might burst.

Our final "big" moment was Universal Studios Japan, specifically Super Nintendo World. Droid was like a kid on Christmas morning. He ran ahead, pointing out every detail, his eyes shining. We rode Mario Kart: Koopa's Challenge and punched block after block, collecting coins on our power-up bands. Seeing him so uninhibitedly joyful, immersed in a world he loved, was truly special. He even let me buy him a ridiculous Super Mario Bros. themed hat with a propeller.

My last big post:

[Video: Droid jumping up and down in Super Nintendo World, wearing a propeller hat, holding a Power-Up Band, shouting "Wahoo!" as he punches a block.]

Caption: "Officially unlocked the inner child of @ElasticDroid! Super Nintendo World was an absolute dream. He even let me put this hat on him. Worth every yen! 😂 #USJ #NintendoWorld #MarioBros #HappyDroid"

BigPuffer: "THE HAT. OMG THE HAT. Droid, you have to wear that for our next recording session." Grizzy: "He's lost it. Completely gone. There goes the last shred of his dignity." Pezzy: "Not smii7y's signature hat!"

Day 14: Last Moments & Departure

Our final day was a bittersweet mix of last-minute souvenir shopping (more tiny, weird gashapon toys for Droid's desk), a final ramen bowl, and packing. A small moment I’ll never forget was sitting on the train to the airport, Droid’s head leaning on my shoulder, both of us scrolling through the hundreds of photos we’d taken. He pointed to one of me laughing uncontrollably at the Robot Restaurant. "That was fun," he murmured, his voice soft. "All of it."

As we boarded the plane, I sent one last text to the Clooless Crew:

Me: "Heading home from Japan! We had the most incredible time. Droid says thanks for all the moral support (and the hat comments)." BigPuffer: "GET HOME SAFE! AND BRING ME RAMEN NOODLES. ALL OF THEM." Grizzy: "Glad you survived. Next time, tell Droid to send selfies. Proper ones." Pezzy: "SO SAD IT'S OVER! Can we have a Japan debrief party when you're back? And bring the hat!!"

I smiled, locking my phone. Two weeks. So many big, unforgettable experiences – the chaotic wonder of Akihabara, the surreal joy of the Robot Restaurant, the quiet beauty of Kyoto, the pure fun of Nintendo World. But it was the small, quiet moments that truly wove it all together: Droid's quiet hum as he arranged his figurines, his hand finding mine on a crowded train, the shared laughter over a questionable vending machine drink, his content sigh as he leaned on me on the train.

Japan was incredible, but experiencing it with ElasticDroid, seeing it through his excited eyes, feeling his quiet joy, made it absolutely perfect. We were already planning our next adventure. Maybe somewhere less tech-heavy, just for a change. Or maybe not. Droid probably had another list.

[chaos-chloe]

AAAA OMG so, I just saw your pezzy motorcycle fic but I wanted to ask if you could do one for droid? Basically the same pretext, reader is his backpack, droid takes her for a ride on a romantic afternoon, maybe even a little kissing heheheh

I just binged watched motorheads for the literal 100th time and I'm just so deeply obsessed with the fact that droid rides a motorcycle 😩 (he needs to do like a photoshoot or something with the whole motorcycle outfit, I would DIE) THANK YOU SO MUCH QUEEEN you're the best as always ❤️‍🩹

AHH i got you babes! I belive i have perfected my craft oon this, not to toot my own horn~ Now i didnt realize you asked for a afternoon ride, so hopefully an evening/night ride is good :). HE REALLY DOES NEED TO A PHOTOSHOOOT WITH IT UGH! the way i would/do worship this man like a god ANYWAY!!! moving on~!

Not a problem my love, you guys are the bestest!

Much Love, Chloe

*MWAH*

Under The Stars

Summary: A night ride with your boyfriend, sounds like a movie

TW: BoyFriend!Droid, kisses, motorcycle ride, flirting, small but meaningful moments

Saturday night, and the engine of ElasticDroid’s custom beast purred like a contented predator in the cool air. The low thrum vibrated through the worn leather of his jacket, a promise of speed and freedom. I stood by, a swirl of anticipation in my stomach, watching him. He was already straddling the bike, a confident grin playing on his lips, his dark hair a little dishevelled from the wind even before we started.

“Ready, my love?” he called over the engine’s growl, extending a hand.

I nodded, stepping towards him. Getting on the back of his motorcycle had become an intimate choreography. He shifted slightly, placing a steady hand on my lower back as I swung my leg over, settling behind him. His touch was always reassuring, a silent promise of safety.

Then came the helmet ritual. He reached for mine, taking it from my hands. First, he made sure the visor was clean, running a thumb over it before securing it perfectly. His nimble fingers then worked the clasp beneath my chin, tightening it just enough so it felt secure but not constricting. His eyes, warm and dark, met mine for a fleeting second over the top of the helmet, a silent question, a shared moment before the world blurred. This little dance, this quiet care, was one of the many reasons my love for him felt like an infinite well.

With a final squeeze of my shoulder, he eased the bike into motion, the rumble growing into a powerful roar. My arms automatically wrapped around his waist, my chest pressing against his broad back. As we picked up speed, the city lights became streaks, the air a cool, exhilarating rush against my protected face.

And that’s when the ride truly began. My hands, initially clasped around his waist, began their own journey. I started with a light massage on his shoulders, feeling the firm muscles beneath the leather, working out whatever tension the day might have held. He shifted slightly, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest, a sound I felt more than heard. Then, my fingers migrated. I traced the strong line of his back, down to his chest, across the flat plane of his stomach, feeling the subtle give and take of his breathing, before slowly winding my way back up. It was a silent conversation, a testament to the fact that even at seventy miles an hour, we were in our own little bubble of intimacy.

As I settled my hands on his hips, my thumbs brushing the tops of his pockets, I leaned my chin on his shoulder. He suddenly looked, to me at least, utterly sassy with my hands perched there, holding him. He didn’t mind, of course. He loved it. It was our thing.

At the same time, I felt his large, warm hand settle instinctively on my right thigh, just above my knee. His thumb began its familiar, slow circles, a comforting, almost hypnotic rhythm. It was a constant reminder of his presence, his awareness of me, even as his focus remained on the road ahead. The gentle friction of his thumb was an electric current, sending shivers of delight through me.

The vibes between us were just immaculate. There was an unspoken language, a deep, resonant hum of understanding that flowed between us. His every subtle lean, my every gentle touch, was perfectly understood. The chemistry was not just strong; it was a potent force, capable of pulling us into a world of our own. The love was intense, a burning core that fueled every interaction, every glance, every shared breath. We weren’t just riding; we were moving as one, two halves of a perfectly aligned whole, under the vast, star-dusted canopy of the Saturday night sky.

Too soon, the rumble of the engine began to ease, the bright lights of our favorite night hangout spot growing closer. Droid expertly maneuvered the bike into a prime parking spot, the engine settling into a soft purr before he finally cut it.

The sudden silence was almost deafening after the roar of the ride, broken only by the gentle tick of the cooling engine. I took a deep, refreshing breath of the crisp night air as Droid reached back and helped me unfasten my helmet. The moment it came off, I felt a rush of cool air on my face, a liberating sensation. Droid took his off too, shaking his hair free, his eyes twinkling in the dim light of the street.

Before I could even fully swing my leg off the bike, he was moving. He grabbed me by the hips with one arm, pulling me gently against him even as I was still settling my feet on the ground. A bright, unbidden giggle bubbled up from me, the sound of a teenager hopelessly, utterly in love. My hands instinctively went to his chest, steadying myself, and I looked up into his eyes, already soft with affection.

He leaned in, his lips finding mine in the cool night air. It wasn’t a quick peck; it was a slow, meaningful kiss, filled with all the unspoken passion of the ride, the comfort of his touch, and the fierce joy of our connection. It tasted of freedom, of shared adventure, and of a love that felt as boundless as the open road.

[chaos-chloe]

You know what would be cute? The clooless guys trying pregnancy cravings with pregnant reader absolutely enjoying it. I think that’ll be cute

ooohh yes! i felt like Puffer would be more responsible/ prepared to have a kid first soooo i do apologize if you wanted someone else!

Much Love, Chloe

*MWAH*

This is a Snack?

Summary: The Clooless guys try your pregnancy craving snacks

TW: Platonic!Clooless, Husband!Puffer, Pregnant!reader, funny moments, WERID FOOD COMBOS (i found online)

The notification chime was the first warning. Then came the familiar rumble of multiple male voices, escalating into a cacophony of greetings and mic checks. I, currently inhabiting the glorious, somewhat unwieldy form of a heavily pregnant woman, just smiled.

My husband, Puffer, bustled through the living room, a flurry of wires and energy drinks, directing the assembled "Clooless" crew. BigPuffer, a mountain of expressive energy; Elasticdroid, the perpetually calm and slightly analytical one; Pezzy, with his quiet, understated humor; and Grizzy, whose reactions could swing from deadpan to utterly bewildered in a blink.

"Alright, chat!" Puffer boomed, adjusting a webcam atop a precarious stack of shoeboxes. "Welcome to the most… culinary stream you'll see all year! Today, we're diving deep into the mind – and stomach – of a pregnant woman!" He gestured dramatically towards me, sprawled on the sofa, a fortress of pillows protecting my bump.

I waved languidly, my current snack – a bowl of slightly warmed green grapes dipped in mustard – momentarily forgotten. "They're in for a treat," I mumbled, mostly to myself.

BigPuffer leaned into the camera, a gleam in his eye. "Our very own Puffer's wife, the source of these… ideas… has graciously agreed to let us sample her pregnancy cravings! Some are tame, some are… well, let's just say a waiver was involved."

Elasticdroid held up a clipboard, deadpan. "Standard disclaimer: No streamers were permanently damaged in the making of this content. Viewer discretion advised for sensitive palates."

The table in front of them was an eclectic, terrifying display. A jar of pickles, a tub of vanilla ice cream, a bottle of hot sauce, a bag of potato chips, a can of sardines, a jar of grape jelly, some questionable-looking cheese puffs, and a suspiciously large container of cottage cheese.

"First up," Puffer announced, pulling out a large dill pickle, "the gateway craving. The classic: just a plain old pickle!"

BigPuffer snatched it, taking a theatrical sniff. "Hmmm, smells… pickley. Safe." He took a crunching bite. "You know what? It's just a pickle. Good, actually. What's the big deal?"

Pezzy nodded, munching his own. "Yep. Solid. 7/10 for pickle-ness."

Grizzy, however, looked at his half-eaten pickle with suspicion. "It's… sour. Why would you want just this?"

I just smiled, taking another mustardy grape. Tame, indeed.

"Alright, level up!" Puffer declared, bringing out a plate with a pickle spear and a dollop of peanut butter. "The pickle and peanut butter combo!"

Elasticdroid picked up the pickle, eyeing the peanut butter. "Textural contrast. Salty and sweet. I can see the theoretical appeal." He swiped some peanut butter onto the pickle and took a bite. His eyebrows went up. "Huh. Not bad. The tartness of the pickle cuts through the richness of the peanut butter. Unexpectedly harmonious."

BigPuffer, however, was gagging slightly. "No! No! It feels… wrong! Like a savory dessert gone rogue!"

Pezzy tried it, then shrugged. "It's… weird. But I've had worse." (He probably had, knowing Pezzy.)

Grizzy took a tentative bite, his face a mask of confusion. "My brain doesn't know what to do with this. Is it a sandwich? Is it a snack? Is it a cry for help?"

I chuckled softly. This was better.

"Next!" Puffer yelled, triumphantly presenting a bowl of vanilla ice cream with a generous drizzle of hot sauce. "The fiery chill: hot sauce on ice cream!"

This produced immediate groans. BigPuffer looked genuinely horrified. "Are you kidding me right now? That's a war crime!"

Elasticdroid, ever the scientist, dipped a spoon in. "The capsaicin will be dulled by the fat, but the initial shock of cold and then heat… an interesting paradox." He took a bite. His eyes widened. "Whoa. It's… a journey. The sweetness is immediately followed by a surprising kick."

Pezzy bravely sampled it. "My mouth is confused. It's cold, then it's burning, then it's cold again."

Grizzy took a tiny, cautious lick. His whole face scrunched up. "My tongue feels betrayed. Like it thought it was going to a party and got sent to a fire drill."

BigPuffer refused point blank. "My stomach is a temple, and that is sacrilege!"

I was halfway through my mustardy grapes, thoroughly enjoying the show. Their reactions were priceless.

"And now," Puffer announced, a mischievous glint in his eye, "for the grande finale. The pièce de résistance. The 'why, god, why?' of pregnancy cravings!" He produced a cracker, topped with a spoon of canned sardines and a dollop of grape jelly. "Sardines and grape jelly on a cracker!"

A collective gasp went through the room.

BigPuffer's jaw dropped. "You… you can't be serious. Fish… and jelly?"

Elasticdroid, for the first time, looked genuinely apprehensive. "The olfactory profile alone is… challenging. The sweetness of the jelly, the brininess of the sardine, the oiliness…"

Pezzy visibly recoiled. "I'm out. I'm actually out."

Grizzy, however, with a strange sense of duty, picked up the cracker. "For the chat," he muttered, bracing himself. He took a bite. For a split second, his face was blank. Then, slowly, it crumpled. His eyes watered. He let out a strangled, guttural noise that sounded like a dying toaster. "Oh, my god. Oh, my god. It's like… the ocean threw up in a fruit factory." He dramatically grabbed a water bottle and chugged half of it.

BigPuffer, unable to resist, took a tiny nibble. His reaction was instant and theatrical. He gagged loudly, stumbling away from the table. "My soul just left my body! That's not a craving, that's a punishment!"

Puffer, my sweet, loyal Puffer, took a small bite of his own, mostly for the camera. He grimaced, but swallowed it like a champ. "It's… certainly an experience. Bold. Unforgettable." He winked at me.

I, meanwhile, had found my next perfect snack: Cheetos dipped in whipped cream. The cheesy crunch, the oddly satisfying sweet coolness. Utter bliss. I leaned back into the sofa, Cheetos dust on my fingers, a contented sigh escaping my lips as the cacophony of groans and laughter filled the room. Their disgusted faces were just the cherry on top of my bizarre, culinary sundae. They might have been suffering, but I was in heaven.

[chaos-chloe]

I dont know if you write for Kryoz or if you write kryoz x reader x smii7y. but if you do, could you please write a comfort fic with them? Like reader is also a content creator is stressed, forgetting to eat or sleep, etc? If you dont do kryoz x reader x smii7y then just smii7y x reader is fine :)

Your works are amazing btw!!! I love re-reading them <333

Write for anyone that i watch plus i will always try to weite for anyone who plays w/ the goons, Frouse, Clooless and etc. Dont be shy ill never turn down a request, if i dont capture them perfectly ill retry :)

Much Love, Chloe

*MWAH*

Finding Balance

Summary: Trying to find the balance betwween work, life and boyfriends

TW: Boyfriend!Kryoz and Smii7y, kisses, stress, anxiety, not feeling like you're enough and etc

The blue light of her monitor cast an unnatural pallor on ___’s face, tracing the dark circles under her eyes. The chaotic banter of Vanoss and his crew still echoed in her ears, a faint ringing that bled into the distant laughter from her last stream with Clooless, then the dry wit of Frouse, and finally, the raw, unfiltered chaos of the ‘goons’ sessions. Each group, a different persona, a different rhythm, a different set of inside jokes she had to remember and play along with, flawlessly.

Her fingers, still hovering over her keyboard, felt stiff, arthritic. She’d promised the Vanoss group one more round, but her body had screamed for a ceasefire. “Gotta go, guys, early start tomorrow,” she’d mumbled, a lie so flimsy even she hadn't believed it. The truth was, she had another session in twenty minutes with a new group, a collab she couldn’t afford to miss.

Her schedule was a relentless, ever-scrolling nightmare. Mondays started with casual rounds with smaller content creators, often followed by a deep dive into an obscure indie game with her long-time online friends. Tuesdays were dominated by the heavy hitters – Vanoss, Nogla, Terroriser, the whole crew, their energy infectious but draining. Wednesdays she’d jump between Frouse’s strategic chaos and the Goons’ pure, unadulterated madness. Thursdays, more collabs, more networking. Weekends? Recording, editing, planning, and always, always more gaming.

She hadn’t had a proper meal that day, just a forgotten, lukewarm coffee and a half-eaten granola bar from three hours ago. Her stomach churned with a nervous acid, and her head throbbed with a persistent dull ache. She felt like a human pinball, ricocheting from server to server, a performative smile plastered on her face, her mind a frantic scramble of who was on, what game they were playing, and what kind of jokes would land.

The anxiety was a cold knot in her chest, tightening with every ping of a Discord notification. What if she wasn't funny enough? What if she messed up a clutch play? What if she seemed tired? The thought alone made her heart pound. Her audience, the other creators, they wouldn’t understand. They saw the laughs, the successful plays, the seamless transitions. They didn’t see the exhaustion, the panic attacks in the quiet hours, the way her hands sometimes trembled holding her mouse.

A soft knock interrupted her spiraling thoughts. Her bedroom door creaked open, revealing the familiar, comforting sight of Kryoz and Smii7y. Kryoz, always a little gruff, was holding a plate piled high with pasta, steam rising invitingly. Smii7y, ever the gentle soul, carried a mug of her favorite herbal tea, a faint smile on his face.

"Hey, Pixelpulse," Smii7y said, his voice soft, a balm to her jangled nerves. "Still glued to that chair? It's past midnight."

"Just finishing up," ___ mumbled, trying to sound normal, trying to project a semblance of control she didn't possess. She didn't move, her eyes still fixed on the blank monitor, unwilling to disconnect from the digital world that consumed her.

Kryoz set the plate down on her cluttered desk, pushing aside a stack of game cases. "Finishing up what? The void? You're done for the night, ___. We talked about this." His tone was firm but not angry, laced with an underlying worry that made her stomach clench even harder.

"I have another session," she whispered, the words barely audible, a shameful confession. "A new collab. It’s important."

Smii7y knelt beside her chair, his hand gently resting on her arm. "Baby, you've been playing for, what, ten hours straight? You look like you're about to pass out." His thumb stroked her arm in slow, calming circles. "It can wait. Your health can't."

Tears pricked at her eyes, hot and sudden. She hated feeling weak, hated letting them see her like this. "I can't just… not show up," she choked out, her voice cracking. "What if they don't want to play with me again? What if I miss out?" The words tumbled out, fear and desperation thick in her throat.

Kryoz sighed, a deep, weary sound. He pulled a second chair over, sitting close, then reached out and gently, but firmly, turned off her monitor. The sudden darkness in the room was jarring, but also a strange relief.

"You're running yourself into the ground, Baby," Kryoz said, his voice softer now, laced with genuine concern. "You're blurring the lines between content and existence. You haven't slept properly in days. You barely eat. You're constantly on edge." He reached out and cupped her face in his large hand, his thumb brushing a tear from her cheek. "You're a great creator, Pixelpulse. But you're an even better person, and we need you to be okay."

Smii7y, still kneeling, leaned his head against her shoulder. "Remember when we talked about just breathing? Just existing for a bit without thinking about frames per second or subscriber counts?" He took her hand, intertwining their fingers. "Take a deep breath with me, Baby. In... and out."

Against her will, she obeyed. The air felt cold in her lungs, then warm as she exhaled. She took another, and another, trying to match Smii7y's calm rhythm. The knot in her chest didn't disappear, but it loosened, just a fraction.

Kryoz pulled her gently from her chair, and she stumbled forward, leaning into his broad chest. He wrapped his arms around her, a solid, grounding presence. Smii7y rose and joined the hug, his arms encircling both of them, a warm huddle of comfort.

"It's okay to say no, Baby," Smii7y murmured, his voice muffled against her hair. "It's okay to take a break. Your real friends, the ones that matter, they'll understand. And if they don't, then maybe they're not the ones you need to be playing with anyway."

"We're here," Kryoz added, his voice a low rumble. "We got you. No streams, no edits, no Discord for the rest of the night. Just sleep. And food. And us."

___ closed her eyes, letting the warmth of their embrace seep into her bones. The relentless hum of her anxiety began to quiet, replaced by the steady beat of their hearts, the gentle pressure of their arms. The world outside her small room, with its endless demands and expectations, could wait. For now, she was safe, grounded by the unwavering love of the two men who saw her not just as Pixelpulse, the content creator, but as ___, the person slowly burying herself alive, and who were determined to dig her out.

She managed a shaky nod, the first genuine relaxation she'd felt all day. "Okay," she whispered, her voice rough with unshed tears. "Okay."

[chaos-chloe]

Hiiiii, lovie 🩷🩷

Me again 👉🏻👈🏻

Can I ask, if you're willing, if you can write something for soup and reader. Where she just gave birth to their little girl and Soup just being to sweetest and most helpful man everrr

But also some dad moments where baby can't seem to stop crying and takes her from mom and she instantly stops crying. (I definitely see him as a girl dad)

But also him comforting reader because she feels like she's doing everything wrong. And him just saying sweet stuff because she has done everything right. Like, I'm a sucker for cute stuff like this

So can you pretty please write something like this? You really don't have to if you don't want to🩷

Anyway, love ya and you're writing is amazing. Make sure to look after yourself and drink some water💕💕

-🧸

HIii sugar bear! I am always willing to write anything for you! love you more <3 Youre an amazing anon lo. You as well babes, need one of my favorites still with me lol

Much much love **MWAH**

Holding Each Other Up

Summary: New baby? New Problems? New solutions.

TW: Husband!Soup, Birth (not really descriptive), kisses,

The world smelled like fresh linen and new possibilities, though mostly it smelled of me, sweat, and a tiny, perfect human. Cora, our daughter, lay swaddled in the crook of my arm, her tiny chest rising and falling with soft, rhythmic breaths. Just hours ago, she’d been a dream, a flutter. Now, she was here, impossibly real, impossibly mine.

My husband, Soup, leaned over us, his eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, now soft and wide with a wonder that mirrored my own. He wasn't just helpful during the labor; he was an anchor. He’d held my hand through every contraction, wiped my brow, whispered ridiculous jokes that somehow made me laugh even as I wanted to scream. And when Cora finally arrived, he’d cried harder than I did, a big, blubbering mess of pure, overwhelming love.

"She's perfect, love," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, reaching out a gentle finger to stroke Cora's cheek. "Absolutely perfect. Just like her mama."

The first few days at home were a beautiful blur of exhaustion and adoration. Soup, true to his name, was a warm, comforting presence, always simmering with quiet helpfulness. Before I could even think of what needed doing, he was already doing it. The dishwasher hummed with clean dishes, laundry baskets somehow magically emptied themselves, and warm, nutritious meals appeared on the counter. He moved through the house with a quiet purpose, never asking for praise, just seeing the need and filling it.

"Okay," he said one morning, finding me nursing Cora on the sofa, a half-eaten bowl of cereal forgotten beside me. "Let's optimize this sleep thing, shall we?" He pulled out a notebook and a pen. "I'll take the 10 PM to 2 AM feed and change. You get a solid block. Then you can do 2 AM to 6 AM, and I'll jump in again for the early morning fussies. That gives us both a decent stretch." He looked up, his smile gentle. "Sound good?"

It sounded like heaven. And for the most part, it worked. Our little system became a comforting rhythm, broken only by the unpredictable nature of a newborn.

One evening, however, the rhythm broke down spectacularly. Cora had been fed, changed, burped, rocked, shushed – everything I could think of. But still, the wails continued, tiny lungs producing a sound that felt like it was tearing a hole right through my own heart. I walked, I bounced, I sang off-key lullabies. Nothing. My own exhaustion, already a deep ache in my bones, flared into frustration. Tears pricked my eyes as I felt that familiar, creeping dread: I'm doing this all wrong.

"Shhh, sweet pea, what's wrong?" I whispered, my voice starting to crack. Cora's face was red and crumpled, her tiny fists batting weakly at the air.

Just then, Soup walked in, drawn by the cries. He took in my slumped shoulders and the tear-streaked baby in my arms. His expression was calm, gentle, devoid of judgment.

"My turn, love?" he asked softly, extending his arms.

I practically thrust her into his embrace, feeling a wave of inadequacy wash over me. "I don't know what it is, Soup," I mumbled, my voice tight. "I've tried everything. She just won't stop."

He simply nodded, settled Cora against his broad chest, and began to sway slowly. He didn't shush her or sing. He just held her, firm and close, and started humming a low, wordless tune. It wasn't even a tune, really, more a deep, rumbling vibration that seemed to resonate through his chest.

And then, as if by magic, Cora's wails began to subside. First, they softened to whimpers, then to sniffles, and finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably only twenty seconds, she went completely silent. Her little head burrowed into the hollow of his neck, and I watched, dumbfounded, as her tiny hands uncurled and her eyes, still red-rimmed, slowly drifted shut. She was asleep. Just like that.

A fresh wave of tears pricked my eyes, but these were different. They were hot with shame, with the feeling of being utterly, completely useless. "See?" I choked out, wiping suddenly. "She prefers you. I can't even get her to stop crying. I'm doing everything wrong."

Soup held Cora carefully with one arm, then reached out and gently cupped my face with his free hand. His thumb wiped away a tear that had escaped. His eyes, full of unwavering love, met mine.

"Hey, no," he said, his voice a balm. "Look at me. You're not doing anything wrong." He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. "You just gave birth to her. You brought her into this world. That's the most perfect, most right thing anyone could ever do."

He shifted Cora so she was even more secure, then wrapped his free arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. "And look at her," he whispered, gesturing to the sleeping baby. "She's healthy, she's beautiful, and she's safe. Because of you. Because of everything you have done right."

He paused, then added, his voice even softer, "Sometimes, babies just need a different pressure, a different hold, a different smell. Maybe she just needed her dad's big, warm chest for a moment. It doesn't mean anything about you, my love. It just means we're a team. And you, my darling wife, have done nothing but everything perfectly right since the moment you decided to bring her here."

His words, simple and true, landed in my heart like the warmest, most nourishing embrace. I leaned into him, letting his solid presence ground me as Cora slept soundly between us. In that moment, surrounded by the quiet hum of our home and the soft scent of our perfect baby, I knew he was right. We were a team. And with Soup by my side, everything, even the overwhelming, terrifying, beautiful chaos of new parenthood, felt perfectly, wonderfully right.

[chaos-chloe]

Mama Mod IRL Stream

Summary: I mean what do you expect from this

TW: Mama Mod!reader, platonic clooless

The insistent buzz of my phone, accompanied by a rapid-fire succession of Discord pings, was my unwelcome alarm clock. 7 AM. An ungodly hour for a mod, especially when the modding usually starts closer to sunset. But today wasn’t usual. Today was “Mama Mod IRL Stream Day.”

I dragged myself out of bed, pulling on a comfortable hoodie and jeans. By the time I’d brewed my first cup of coffee, a loud knock rattled the front door, followed almost immediately by BigPuffer’s booming voice yelling, “She’s up! The Queen has graced us with her presence!”

I opened the door to a full-on, blinding camera light. ElasticDroid, ever the tech-savvy one, had a GoPro strapped to his chest, making him look like a very serious, very caffeinated human tripod. Pezzy was bouncing on the balls of his feet, clutching a bag of what I suspected were sour gummy worms, and Grizzy stood quietly to the side, already looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Puffer, of course, was front and center, a wide, mischievous grin plastered on his face.

"Morning, Mama Mod!" Puffer declared, practically vibrating with energy. "Chat, say good morning to the pillar of our community! Without her, we'd be in shambles!"

"More like jail," I grumbled, grabbing my keys. "Alright, children, rules for the day: No touching anything I tell you not to touch. No shouting in public. And Puffer, no trying to pay with channel points."

Puffer pouted. "Spoilsport."

Our first stop was the coffee shop. The camera, still attached to Droid, bobbed along as we navigated the morning rush. "Alright, what are we getting, Mama Mod?" Puffer boomed, effectively silencing the line.

"Just a plain black coffee, thanks," I sighed, rubbing my temples. "You guys?" "I'll have a Venti Iced Caramel Macchiato with extra caramel drizzle, four pumps of vanilla, and oat milk, please," Pezzy chirped, surprising the barista. "I'll analyze their menu for optimal caffeine-to-sugar ratio," Droid muttered, already pulling up the store's app on his phone. Grizzy just pointed to the darkest roast. "That one."

The barista looked at me, bewildered. "Are they... with you?" "Unfortunately," I mumbled, pulling out my wallet.

Next, the grocery store. This was where the real chaos began. Puffer immediately grabbed a shopping cart, trying to do a wheelie down the aisle. "Chat, watch this! Speed demon!" "Puffer, put that down before you take out a display of artisanal cheese!" I yelled, swerving to avoid him. ElasticDroid was in the produce section, meticulously inspecting every avocado. "This one's 73% optimized for ripeness. Acceptable." Pezzy, meanwhile, had found the cereal aisle and was doing an impromptu review of every sugary box. "Ooh, Frosted Flakes! They're GR-R-REAT!" he mimicked, holding a box to his ear. Grizzy silently snuck a bag of pretzels into the cart when he thought I wasn't looking. I saw. I always see.

"Guys, we need milk, eggs, bread..." I tried to sound authoritative, but it was like herding hyperactive sheep. "No, Puffer, we do not need five pounds of gummy bears."

The bookstore was a brief, blissful respite. Puffer tried to narrate the plot of a romance novel in a dramatic voice. Droid found the science section and got lost in a book about quantum physics. Pezzy gravitated towards the graphic novels, while Grizzy actually picked up a historical non-fiction and started reading. For ten glorious minutes, there was relative quiet. Then Puffer found the children's section and started making farm animal noises. My quiet time was over.

The car wash was visual comedy. The boys pressed their faces against the windows as the giant brushes attacked my car. Puffer shrieked with laughter, Droid tried to explain the mechanics of the brushes, Pezzy kept yelling "Woohoo!" as we got sprayed, and Grizzy just stared, vaguely amused.

Getting gas was the last hurdle. "Who wants to pump the gas?" I asked, pulling up to the pump. "Ooh, me, me!" Pezzy volunteered. "No, Pezzy, you'll probably try to put the nozzle in the wrong hole," I said immediately. "Droid, you're the most competent." Droid nodded, taking the nozzle with the precision of a surgeon. Puffer, predictably, started asking for donations to "help Mama Mod with gas money," while Grizzy just leaned against the car, looking bored.

Finally, we were home. The camera, finally unstrapped from Droid, was placed on a counter. The boys, suddenly energized, scrambled to their respective stream rooms. The smell of takeout permeated the air, a silent agreement that cooking was not happening tonight.

I took a deep breath, the exhaustion of the day settling in. My phone pinged. Discord. "Stream is live!"

I walked into my modding station, the familiar glow of my monitors greeting me. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, a sense of grim determination replacing the day’s weariness. The chat was already a torrent of emotes, spam, and unhinged comments.

"Alright, chat," I muttered to myself, adjusting my headset. "You had your fun today. Now, it's my turn."

My fingers flew across the keys. Someone spammed a banned word. Ban. Permaban. A user was trying to share suspicious links. Timeout. Report. Someone was being openly toxic towards a new user. Ban. No second chances. Puffer’s stream chat: "Puffer, say 'peepeepoopoo'!" Timeout. ElasticDroid’s chat: "Droid, is that a new RGB strip?" Normal comment, ignore. "Droid, ElasticDEEZNUTS." Timeout. Pezzy’s chat: "Pezzy, marry me!" Timeout for spam. Yes, even the nice spam. "Pezzy, show feet!" Permaban. Immediately. Grizzy’s chat: "Grizzy, blink twice if you're being held hostage." Timeout. For being silly but disruptive.

The ban hammer swung, the timeouts flew like digital darts. The chat numbers flickered as I purged the unworthy. It was a rhythmic dance, a purge of the chaos that had followed me all day. The delightful, slightly maddening chaos of four streamers, now amplified by thousands of their equally chaotic fans.

From “Mama Mod” wrangling her children through grocery aisles, I had transformed into the stern warden of the Twitch asylum. The contrast was stark, yet strangely satisfying. They make the content, but I keep the peace. And sometimes, after a long day of herding cats, swinging a ban hammer felt like the most therapeutic activity in the world.

As the evening wore on, the chat became cleaner, calmer. The boys were still being their usual selves on stream, but the unruly mob was tamed. I leaned back in my chair, sipping a glass of water. Today had been a wild ride. But as I watched the chat, relatively peaceful now, I cracked a small smile.

Some days, being a mod felt like being a glorified babysitter. Other days, like today, it felt like being a queen, ruling over my digital domain with an iron fist... and a very large ban hammer. And tomorrow, I'd probably do it all over again. After a very, very long sleep.

[chaos-chloe]

Hii, love🩷🩷

The "Malfunction" fic was sooooo gooddddd.

Like I physically can not stop myself from asking for more. You write Soup so well, like I can't even explain ittt

Buttttt, may I ask for another soup fic? I fear it may be an addiction. But you know? It's somewhat healthy 🎀

But can I pretty please ask for soup who gets cuteness aggression for reader. Like she's just sitting and doing whatever, and he just comes and smushes her face and all that fun stuff

And reader who gets cuteness aggression for soup (Like come on, who wouldn't?) And she bites him or something but lovingly.

So basically, them having cuteness aggression towards eachother

It's not a want! It's a NEED!!!!

Anyway, again, if you don't want to write or have the time to write it, it's totally fine and completely understandable

You're doing great

LOVE YAAAA💕

-🧸

HII love! Thank ya, thank ya! *takes a bow* Never ever stop yourself for requesting more, i love seeing what you guys want to read cause i get lost and strat brainstorming random as shiit. Anywayyy I did write it for ya but i broke down into 2 different stories, but ill post them on here, ill just seperate them with a differ bannner.

Thank you again babes! I LOVE YOU MORE *MWAH*

Cuteness Overload

Summary: When you just have to act on the cuteness aggression and intrusive thoughts.

TW: Established relationship, cuteness aggression, biting, kissing, cursing

The gentle clicks of his mouse as he navigated through something on his second monitor. On the main screen, his face filled the webcam, a relaxed smile playing on his lips as he chatted idly with his viewers. I was nestled comfortably beside him in his gamer chair, my head resting on his shoulder, occasionally glancing at the chat scrolling by.

"Yeah, the guys should be on any minute now," Soup murmured, his voice a low rumble against my ear. "Just waiting for them to finally stop arguing about who's hosting the private server this time. You know how it is."

I hummed in agreement, content just to be there. Sundays were usually his dedicated stream days, but I didn't mind. Hanging out with Soup, even if he was technically "at work," was still hanging out. The chat was buzzing with general good vibes, asking about our weekend, sending funny emotes, and just enjoying the low-key atmosphere.

Soup chuckled, then straightened slightly, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Oh, speaking of servers and all that, you guys remember that clip? The one where I totally whiffed that grenade throw and accidentally took out my entire team? The 'Soup's got aimbot… for his teammates' clip?"

He started rambling, his voice picking up speed and enthusiasm. "Man, that thing still blows my mind. Like, it went viral viral. I woke up the next day and my notifications were just… gone. Exploded. And the comments! People were making memes, doing replays, even little animated shorts!"

As he gestured with his free hand, eyes shining, I could see the pure, unadulterated joy radiating off him. He wasn't bragging; he was genuinely, openly grateful. Grateful for the laughs, for the new viewers who found him through that ridiculous clip, for the community that had grown around his goofy antics. His face was alight with a boyish delight, his usually chill demeanor bubbling over with genuine happiness.

And that’s when it hit me. Like a sudden, overwhelming wave. The cuteness aggression.

His excitement, his innocent delight, the way his eyes crinkled when he genuinely smiled – it was too much. My hands clenched involuntarily. Every fiber of my being screamed to squeeze him, to ruffle his hair, to just… chomp. My teeth felt an almost primal urge.

Without thinking, driven purely by the overwhelming adorable-ness of the man beside me, I leaned in a fraction, opened my mouth, and took a small, quick bite of his arm, right on the bicep. Not hard enough to hurt, just a distinct chomping pressure.

Soup froze mid-sentence, his eyes widening. He stared at his arm for a second, then slowly turned his head to look at me, a mixture of bewilderment and shock on his face.

On screen, the chat went absolutely wild.

[Username123]: O_O WHAT WAS THAT 

[GamerGal_99]: SHE BIT HIM?! LMAOOOO 

[PogChampUser]: THE AGGRESSION😂 

[SoupFanatic]: CUTENESS AGGRESSION IS REAL [EmoteSpam]: 🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨 

[SnackAttack]: SHE SAID NOM NOM NOM

Soup finally found his voice, a high-pitched incredulous squawk. "What the hell, woman?!" He pulled his arm away, rubbing the spot I’d bitten. "Did you just… did you just bite me?!"

I just giggled, trying to suppress the lingering urge to do it again. "You were just too cute!" I mumbled, burying my face back into his shoulder.

He leaned away slightly, still rubbing his arm, eyes wide for the camera. "I know I’m a snack, but damn, you got sharp as teeth! Sharper than a shark!" He glanced at the roaring chat, shaking his head with a bewildered laugh. "Guys, did you see that? My girlfriend just tried to take a bite out of me! She's feral!"

The chat, of course, absolutely lost it. And I, still flushed with residual cuteness overload, just smiled, content in the knowledge that yes, I’d bitten him, and yes, it was entirely his fault for being so damn endearing.

I was sprawled on the beanbag beside his desk, a half-eaten bag of questionable cheesy puffs balanced precariously on my stomach, while he was slouched in his gaming chair, his bare feet propped up on a second, upside-down storage bin. The stream was live, but it was a 'chill day,' meaning no sweaty competitive gaming, just us indulging in the internet's most delightful absurdity.

"Alright, chat," Soup mumbled, adjusting his mic, his voice a low rumble amplified for thousands. "Next up, we got... oh, a classic."

He clicked, and the screen filled with a particularly cursed deep-fried image of a cat wearing sunglasses, smoking a tiny cigar. We both snorted, Soup doing his characteristic wheezing laugh that always sent chat into a frenzy of 'LMAO SOUP' spam. We scrolled through a few more: a surprisingly wholesome animation about a lonely robot, a ridiculously convoluted flowchart for making toast, and then… it appeared.

A GIF. A perfect, looped GIF of a tiny capybara, no bigger than a guinea pig, calmly sitting in a miniature teacup, its serene little face blinking slowly. Its tiny paws were tucked neatly under its chin, and a single, perfect droplet of water clung to its whiskers.

"OH MY GOD!" I shrieked, nearly sending the cheesy puffs flying. "SOUP! LOOK! OH MY GOD, THE TINY CAPYBARA! IN A TEACUP! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!"

Soup chuckled, a soft, warm sound next to me. "Yeah, that's pretty good, babe."

But 'pretty good' was a gross understatement. I pushed myself up, leaning forward, hands flapping. "No, Soup, you don't understand! Look at its little face! It's so calm! It's just living its best life! That's all I want to be, Soup. A tiny capybara in a teacup, just chillin'."

I was off. The floodgates had opened. "And like, red pandas! Oh my god, their little flappy hands when they stand up! And otters holding hands! Did you know they hold hands so they don't drift away while they sleep? My heart! It's too pure! And those little fennec foxes with their giant ears, they're like cartoon characters! And the way a cat slowly closes its eyes just to show it trusts you? Ugh! Animals are just… they're the purest, most innocent, perfect little beings. They just are. They don't have ulterior motives, they just want snacks and cuddles and to exist cutely! God, I love cute animals so much!"

I was halfway through explaining the existential joy of watching a baby goat bounce, my hands still gesticulating wildly, when I noticed the shift. Soup hadn't said anything for a while. Usually, he'd interject with some sarcastic comment or a genuine agreement. But now, the only sound was my own rambling.

I glanced over, and my words trailed off. He wasn't looking at the screen. He wasn't even looking at the chat, which was probably spammed with 'SIMP' and 'GET A ROOM SOUP' by now. He was just… staring at me.

His chin was propped on his fist, a soft, almost dreamy look on his face. His eyes, usually alight with mischief or focused intensity, were just… warm. Adoring. There was a slight, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips, and a warmth that reached his eyes, crinkling them at the corners. He looked like he was watching the most fascinating, wonderful thing in the world, and that thing was apparently me, rambling about fennec foxes.

My cheeks warmed under his gaze. "What?" I asked, a little self-conscious. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He didn't answer immediately. The soft, adoring look in his eyes slowly, subtly, began to morph. A mischievous glint appeared, then something else – a hint of joyful, almost feral determination. It was the look he got right before he did something incredibly stupid and incredibly endearing, all at once. The "cuteness aggression" was actively brewing.

His gaze flickered down to my lips, then back up to my eyes, a low rumble starting in his chest. Before I could process it, before I could even take a breath, he launched himself slightly forward.

His hands, large and warm, shot out and cupped my face, one on each cheek. Not gently, not softly, but with a sudden, decisive grip that squished my cheeks together, puckering my lips into a perfect 'o' shape like a startled goldfish.

"Mmph!" I managed, caught completely off guard.

He didn't hesitate. Leaning in, lips already forming the shape, he popped a quick, firm kiss right on my smushed lips. It was messy, a little loud, and absolutely, perfectly Soup.

He pulled back, a triumphant smirk plastered across his face, his eyes sparkling with pure, unadulterated chaos and affection. He even licked his lips. "You're just," he said, his voice a low, satisfied murmur, "so damn cute when you get going about animals."

I stared at him, my face still squished in his hands, my lips still tingling. Then a surprised squawk escaped me, quickly followed by a fit of giggles. "Soup! We're on stream, you gremlin!" I batted his hands away, though not without a smile.

He just shrugged, already turning back to the monitor, a smug satisfaction radiating from him. "They know," he said, nodding towards the screen. "Chat's loving it, look."

And sure enough, the chat was exploding. 'POGGERS,' 'SOUP IS DOWN BAD,' 'SIMP,' 'GET ITTTTT,' scrolled by in an endless, joyful stream.

I just shook my head, picking up my cheesy puffs. Being Soup's girlfriend was a chaotic, adorable, and utterly unpredictable ride, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Even if it meant my face getting spontaneously squished for being 'too cute.'

[chaos-chloe]

GRILL IM ABOUT TO PASS AWAY OMFGGGGG DID YOU SEE DROIDS IG STORY??!???! he is so fine I can't omggg

ID DIE IF I SAW THIS MAN IN PUBLIC OR IN THE GYM, LIKE MY DUMBASS WOULD FORGET HE IS FAMOUS AND SAY SOME DUMB SHIT LIKE UGH, im making this fic or sum idk UGH THEY WAY ID BITE HIS ARM

okay i need to stop now, before someone exposes me or sum LMAO

[chaos-chloe]

Ma Cherie

Summary: The connection is so strong yet you don't even know each other only your names.

TW: Bar setting on the beach, alcohol, first meeting, dancing

The salt spray kissed my face as I walked into the beach bar, the kind with sand clinging stubbornly to every surface and fairy lights strung haphazardly between palm trees. The music was a low, rhythmic thrum – something unfamiliar, a blend of languages and beats I couldn’t quite place. I ordered a margarita, the neon green mirroring the turquoise water just beyond the bar's edge.

Then I saw him.

He was leaning against a weathered post, nursing a beer, his dark hair tousled as if he'd just emerged from the waves himself. But it was his eyes that snagged my attention. They were the color of the Aegean Sea on a postcard, an impossible, vibrant blue that seemed to hold the entire ocean within their depths. I felt him checking me out, a slow, deliberate graze that started at my toes and traveled upwards. My skin prickled with awareness.

He smiled, a slow, captivating curve of his lips that made my pulse stammer. He didn't say anything, just held my gaze. It was electric, a silent conversation that crackled with unspoken desires. It was like lightning had struck between us, illuminating a connection so immediate and intense it took my breath away.

Later, I don't remember who initiated it, but we were dancing. The foreign melodies, once just background noise, became the soundtrack to our silent understanding. We moved together, instinctively, our bodies swaying in sync, the space between us shrinking with each beat. His hand found the small of my back, sending shivers down my spine. He smelled of salt, sunshine, and something uniquely him, a subtle, intoxicating blend of spices and sandalwood.

He pulled me closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Ma Cherie, ma cherie,” he murmured, the French rolling off his tongue like liquid silk. “You and me, c’est l’amour pour la vie.”

The words hung in the air, thick with promise and possibility. It felt audacious, ridiculous, and utterly, undeniably right.

I pulled back slightly, a playful smile touching my lips. “Oh, Smii7y, it was so good to meet you.” I emphasized his name, tasting the sound of it on my tongue. It was a silly name, an internet handle somehow morphed into a real-life presence, but on him, it suited.

We looked at each other for one last, lingering moment, the air between us still humming with that initial spark. Then, with a shared, unspoken understanding, we walked away from each other, disappearing into the night.

The next morning, I woke up with the taste of salt and tequila still lingering on my tongue. The sun streamed through the blinds, painting stripes of gold across the room. I lay in bed, tracing the memory of his eyes, the scent of his skin, the feel of his hand on my back.

"Ma Cherie, c’est l’amour pour la vie..."

The words echoed in my head. It was absurd, of course, to believe in love at first sight, in a declaration made on a sandy dance floor under the influence of strong drinks and foreign music. But the intensity of the connection, the undeniable pull I felt towards him, lingered.

I couldn't shake the feeling that something extraordinary had happened, that a chance encounter on a beach had ignited a spark that could either fizzle and die or explode into a roaring flame. The memory of Smii7y, with his ocean eyes and his bold pronouncements, was a tantalizing mystery, a whisper of possibility that haunted my thoughts all day.

Had it just been lust? Perhaps. But as I replayed the scene in my mind, I knew it was more than just that. It was a feeling of recognition, of having known him in another life, of finding a missing piece that I hadn't even realized was gone. Maybe, just maybe, it really was the start of something... pour la vie.

[chaos-chloe]

Guys My age

Summary: Toxic ex in chat, hmm

TW: Cursing, Toxic!ex, established relationship, angry!reader, kissing,

 Soup’s gaming PC was usually a soothing backdrop to my afternoons. Today, it was just another part of the vibrant chaos. We were deep into a ‘Meme Reaction’ stream, a fan favorite where Soup and I would scroll through user-submitted memes, offering our often-unhinged commentary. Chat was a river of emojis, "LULs," and generous donation alerts.

"Okay, okay, this one's a classic," Soup chuckled, his voice a warm baritone that somehow managed to be both calming and incredibly engaging. He adjusted his headset, a stray strand of his dark hair falling across his forehead. "It's the 'Distracted Boyfriend' meme, but the girlfriend is labeled 'Responsibility' and the new girl is 'More Gaming Gear'."

I snorted, leaning closer to the condenser mic. "Honestly, Soup, you're the Distracted Boyfriend in this scenario. Remember when I caught you eyeing that limited edition keyboard?"

He threw his head back, a genuine, joyful laugh filling the room and no doubt echoing through thousands of headphones worldwide. "It was magnificent; just like how bush did 9/11!” 

Chat exploded with agreement and playful mockery. I loved these moments. They felt so real, so unscripted, a glimpse into our actual relationship that fans ate up. For Soup, it was content. For me, it was just… us.

We scrolled on, the meme train chugging along. A particularly dark one about burnt toast made us both grimace in mock horror. "Too real, man, too real," Soup muttered.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, a username flashed across the chat, catching my attention like a sudden, jarring chord in a familiar song. RetroGamerMark. My stomach clenched. Mark. My ex. I’d seen his username pop up before, lurking, occasionally dropping a generic compliment on Soup’s gameplay. It was weird, but I’d learned to ignore it. He was a fanboy, apparently. An uncomfortably close one.

Soup, ever oblivious, scrolled down slightly, his eyes scanning the fast-moving chat for a good comment to read aloud. "Oh, here's one… RetroGamerMark asks: 'ofc you go for him, it's because he's older right?'"

My breath hitched. The air in the room seemed to go thick, electric. Soup paused, a slight frown creasing his brow. "Older? Mark, what are you talking about? It's like, three years. Three years isn't 'older,' dude. That's, like, a single college course. You're barely out of college yourself." He chuckled, trying to brush it off, clearly not understanding the venom behind the question, or the history it poked at.

But I understood. Oh, I understood. That snide remark, that pathetic attempt to diminish my choices, to make it about something as shallow as a minute age gap, instead of, you know, Soup being a kind, mature, supportive partner who actually listened to me. Mark was just a constant reminder of how emotionally stunted some 'guys my age' could be.

A hot, furious wave washed over me. All the frustrations, all the dismissed feelings, all the little, petty ways Mark had tried to control me, or make me feel less-than, compressed into a single, explosive point. My hand shot up, middle finger extended, pointed directly at the camera.

Soup’s eyes widened, his easy smile vanishing. "___—"

"Oh, you want to know why, Mark?!" My voice, usually playful, dropped several octaves, becoming raw, venomous. "You want to know why I 'go for him'?" I leaned into the mic, my face probably bright red, my eyes blazing. "Because he knows how to treat a woman! Because he doesn't play childish games! Because he doesn't make me feel like I'm asking for too much when I want basic respect!"

Chat was a blur now. "OOOOOHH," "YIKES," "SHE WENT OFF," "BASED ___."

"Guys my age don't know how to treat me!" I screamed into my mic, the sound likely clipping, distorted with pure, unadulterated rage. "They're still stuck in the damn sandbox! SO FUCK OFF CUNT!"

The last word echoed, raw and guttural. Soup was utterly still beside me, his eyes wide, a flicker of surprise and then… something else. Admiration? Amusement? Whatever it was, he didn't try to stop me.

Before he could even process, before the rage could fully dissipate, I grabbed his face, tilting it towards me, and planted a fierce, undeniable kiss right on his lips. It wasn't a gentle, sweet kiss. It was a statement. A long, defiant press, tasting faintly of the coffee he’d been drinking and a hint of his signature aftershave.

I pulled back, a triumphant, slightly manic grin splitting my face. My chest was heaving, but the anger had begun to recede, replaced by a satisfying rush of defiance.

Soup blinked, dazed for a second, a faint blush creeping up his neck. Then a slow, lopsided smile spread across his face. He cleared his throat, looking back at the camera. "Well," he said, his voice a little strained but recovering quickly, "That... was certainly a reaction, chat. I think we can all agree on that." He leaned closer to his mic, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And yes, ___, I absolutely know how to treat a woman." He put an arm around me, pulling me closer against his side. "Now, let's see what other monkey memes we've got. I think one of them was about… an exploding banana?"

The chat exploded even further. And for the first time in a long time, Mark and his petty comments completely vanished from my mind.

[chaos-chloe]

Forever obsessed with the idea of droid and reader both secretly liking each other and the guys subtly helping them get together just for them to be like "get a room!" Once they're actually together, but they actually are so happy, and they also probably bet how long it would've taken them to get together (they sure do love a bet don't they)

Omg so I'm not only one obsessed over this idea, but I'm with any of the guys! I really hope you and other enjoy this cause I surely enjoyed writing this fic! :)

Heartfelt Moment

Summary: Embarrassing moment turns into confession

TW: Friends to Lovers, small embarrassment, soft confessions, mutual pining

Life in the Clooless house was, for lack of a better word, chaotic. But it was our chaos. As the unofficial heart of the content we created, ElasticDroid was a natural magnet for attention – and affection. I wasn’t the only one who felt it; BigPuffer, Pezzy, and Grizzy all harbored their own not-so-secret admiration for him. He was just that kind of guy – effortlessly funny, surprisingly sweet, and always down for a bit of creative madness.

We were all sprawled out in the Clooless living room, a symphony of mismatched beanbags and worn-out couches. The afternoon light streamed through the big windows, dappling across the room. Droid and I were tucked together on the largest sofa, my head leaning comfortably against his arm, his fingers idly tracing patterns on my sleeve. He’d just whispered some absurd inside joke from last week’s stream, something about Puffer’s questionable fashion choices, and I’d erupted into a fit of giggles, burying my face into his shoulder. The pure, unadulterated joy of that moment, of just being with him, was intoxicating.

"Get a room!"

Puffer’s voice, booming and entirely lacking in subtlety, cut through my happy bubble like a chainsaw. I snapped my head up, my cheeks already hot. Pezzy, bless his mischievous heart, burst into a fresh peal of laughter from his spot on the floor, practically wheezing. Grizzy, ever the hype man, started whooping and clapping, making it worse.

My face, already flushed a deep crimson, felt like it was on fire. I glanced at Droid, whose usually composed features were now a matching shade of scarlet. Our eyes met for a mortified second, and then, as if on cue, we both sprang apart, a chasm forming between us on the sofa. The comfortable silence we’d shared minutes before was replaced by an awkward, ringing quiet, punctuated only by Pezzy’s dying chuckles and Grizzy’s victorious whoops. It was mortifying. I mumbled something incoherent about needing a drink and practically fled the room.

Later that day, the mortification hadn't quite worn off. I was sprawled out on my bed, scrolling aimlessly through my phone, replaying the embarrassing scene in my head. The door to my room, which I’d left slightly ajar, creaked open a little more.

"Hey," a soft voice said, accompanied by a small, almost hesitant knock on the doorframe.

I looked up. It was Droid, his shy confidence smile playing on his lips. He leaned against the frame for a moment, then pushed off, slowly walking into the room. He didn’t sit in my desk chair or on the floor. Instead, he came to my bed and, with a careful gentleness, sat down at the foot of it, facing me. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, suddenly hyper-aware of the space between us.

"Um," he started, his gaze fixed on his hands, which were clasped tightly in his lap. "About earlier… and, well, other times, I guess." He took a deep breath, and his eyes met mine, holding them. "Look, I know Puffer's a loudmouth, but… he wasn’t entirely wrong."

My heart hammered against my ribs. "Oh?" I managed, trying to sound casual, but my voice was barely above a whisper.

"Yeah. Because… I really like you. Like, really like you," he confessed, the words coming out in a rush, his cheeks tinging pink again. "More than a friend, I mean. I know it's probably obvious to everyone else, but I had to say it. And… I hope it’s not just me."

I couldn't help the wide, goofy grin that spread across my face. "It’s not," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "It’s definitely not just you, Droid."

A wave of relief washed over his face, and his shy smile widened into something truly genuine. He shifted closer, then hesitated. "So… what now?"

"We take it slow," I suggested, my mind racing with possibilities. "And we keep it off-screen for a bit. No streaming 'couple goals' content, no overt flirting during Clooless recordings. Just… us, figuring things out, testing the waters. Sound good?"

He nodded eagerly. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect."

The next morning, I braced myself. The guys were already at the kitchen island, nursing their morning coffees.

"Guys," I began, taking a deep breath. "Droid and I… we talked last night."

Pezzy dropped his mug, thankfully empty, with a clatter. Grizzy sat bolt upright. Puffer, however, just slowly lowered his coffee cup, a knowing smirk blooming on his face.

"Took you guys long enough!" Grizzy practically yelled, throwing his arms in the air.

"Finally!" Pezzy crowed, looking between us like he'd just witnessed a solar eclipse. "I was starting to think you two were going to orbit each other forever without ever colliding!"

"Called it," Puffer said, a smug look plastered on his face. "Thirty-seven minutes into the living room incident. I said by midnight they’d have a talk. Pezzy said morning, Grizzy said a week. Pay up, boys."

Pezzy grumbled, pulling out his phone. Grizzy groaned dramatically.

"You guys bet on us?" I asked, a mix of disbelief and affection bubbling up inside me.

"Of course, we did!" Pezzy laughed. "It was the most obvious slow-burn in Clooless history! Congrats, losers!"

Droid just chuckled, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into a side-hug. I leaned into him, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the morning sun. It wasn't perfect, and it was certainly going to be a wild ride with these guys, but for now, it was more than enough. And Puffer, confound it, had won the bet.

[chaos-chloe]

Ello lovies! Updates: I’ll probably push back posting to 430-5pm EST. Then, I’m not gonna write anything until Saturday or Sunday, BUT I do have things in my queue. So if you guys want to fill up my request box you guys are more welcome too!! Anything that has been requested Sunday to Tuesday are in the queue just waiting for them to post. Thank you my loves, hope all is swell and keep yourself healthy and safe!

Much love! 🫶☺️