#for all mankind fix it

[gordopickett]

WIP Wednesday!

Thanks for the tag, @youreorangeyoumoron 💙

I'm actually getting to this on a Wednesday for once! 😆

So far I have 29 chapters up on Ao3 of my For All Mankind post-season 2 fix-it fic called And If It's Not Okay... This is an excerpt from chapter 36, wherein Gordo & Ed have made plans to hang out one evening, but Ed doesn't show.

Gordo arrived at the Shamrock ten minutes before seven. He walked through the warm, inviting lobby with its muted green floor and walls of mahogany paneling and travertine. He found the Pine Grill where he was supposed to meet Ed, and he slid into a booth. A waitress came over immediately and took his drink order – a club soda. Gordo hadn’t cut out alcohol from his life entirely. But he had cut back significantly, ever since he had gotten serious about his training for Jamestown 91. He was sure that that – along with getting back into a workout routine – was what had helped him lose so much weight before his launch. He hadn’t been particularly set on losing weight, per se, but he had wanted to get back in shape. He always felt better when he kept his body strong and moving. The weight loss had just been a byproduct of that. But ever since his return from Jamestown, Gordo hadn’t felt strong. His injuries had kept him immobile for days and then fairly sedentary for nearly three weeks. Now that he had been cleared by the NASA flight surgeon to start exercising again, he looked forward to getting back to it. He knew he would have to start out slowly, however. He had lost a few more pounds and a lot of muscle mass over the past three weeks, and he felt much weaker than he was used to. Getting back in shape would be a process, but Gordo was up for the challenge. And he didn’t have a launch deadline to meet, so he knew he could do it at a slow, healthy pace. Gordo sipped his club soda, waiting for Ed to arrive. He checked his watch again, noting that it was now ten minutes past seven. He wondered why Ed was late. It wasn’t like he had to drive across town. He was staying right upstairs in the hotel. Gordo waited a few more minutes. He was beginning to wonder if Ed had forgotten about their plan when the bartender shouted, “Gordo Stevens?” Gordo looked over. “Yeah?” The bartender looked at him, lifting up the phone receiver he held in his hand. “You’ve got a phone call.” Gordo furrowed his brow curiously and got to his feet. He walked over to the bar, and the bartender handed him the phone. He held it to his ear. “This is Gordo Stevens.” “Mr. Stevens?” a female voice said timidly in his ear. He didn’t immediately recognize it. “Yes?” “This is Kelly,” she said. “Baldwin. I, uh, tried calling your house, but Jimmy said you were at the Pine Grill.” “Yeah. I’m supposed to be meeting your dad here. Is everything okay?” “I didn’t know who else to call.” “What’s going on?” “I don’t know. Something’s wrong. We’re up in our room. Dad’s been drinking, and he’s just—He seems really upset.” She paused. “I’m worried about him.” “What’s the room number?” Gordo asked. When she told him, he said, “I’ll be right up.”

I wanted this scene to be a sort of parallel to Karen calling Ed to come get Gordo at The Outpost in episode 2x02. But instead of Ed helping Gordo when he's drunk & spiraling, this time it's Gordo helping Ed who's going through something similar.

Tagging @benwvatt @lacontroller1991 @rachg82 @onekisstotakewithme @roughroadhaley

@kayhi808 @marvmerchant @margospiano @violetmuses @castalyne

@cicada-circuitry @nadia-el-mansours @flamingo24 @tavners @allatariel & anyone else who wants to play!

Feel free to share anything you're working on, writing or not, but no pressure either way! 😊

[kaialone]

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

More housekeeping! I was wrong about the date last time. My hiatus isn’t starting on the 15th; it’s starting on the 13th, possibly a bit earlier. But I’ll see y’all a little less than a month after that!

Part 1 | . . . | Part 38 | Part 39 | Part 40

“Vecna’s got my sister,” Steve whispers into the line, and Robin knows immediately that this time, this next fight with Vecna, is going to be very different.

She’s not going to let two of his atoms touch after what he’s done.

“Okay,” she answers, mind going a million miles an hour. “We know how to fix this, Steve, but you need to focus. Can you focus?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, I can focus.”

“Okay. We need her favorite song.”

“I don’t know her favorite song.”

“Then you need to find someone who does.”

The line is silent for a minute, then Steve gasps. “Cassidy! She’d know.”

“Okay, that’s perfect. Call Cassidy, ask her what Allison’s favorite song is. I’m going to pick up El and we’ll be there as soon as we can, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve says. “Hurry?”

“As fast as I can,” she promises. “Call Cassidy.”

They hang up, and Robin eyes Wayne, who’s already waiting by the door with his truck keys. “I’m gathering this is an emergency.”

“If it wouldn’t be entirely weird, I would kiss you,” Robin informs him, because she barely has a filter at the best of times, and this is definitely not the best of times.

Thankfully, Wayne just laughs. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says. “Toss your bike in the back and get in. I’ll need directions.”

Robin worries her lip. “Y’know the Wheelers’ place?”

“Karen?”

“Yeah. There first, please.”

Wayne offers her a teasing salute as he puts the car into drive, and Robin suddenly thinks this all might just work out.

The drive to the Wheelers’ is uneventful, and she hops out of the truck and pounds on the door. Karen opens it, and Robin grits her teeth. “Hi, Mrs. Wheeler,” she says politely. “Is Nancy home?”

“Oh, yes, of course, come in,” she says, ushering her inside before calling for Nancy.

Robin watches as Nancy makes it halfway downstairs before she sees who’s here. She watches as she goes through all the possibilities. “Hey, Robin, you’re here for the project, right?”

“Yup,” Robin nods. “For, uh. School.”

Nancy blinks. “Right,” she says, casting a glance at her mom, who doesn’t notice. “C’mon up.”

Robin hesitates. “Think we could use the basement?”

Nancy’s eyes flash. “Sure,” she says, and they’re halfway down before she speaks again. “What’s going on?”

“Vecna has Allison. We need El.”

Nancy bites back a curse.

They finally make it down, and El is standing in the middle of the room, waiting for them. “It is time.”

“It is,” Robin nods. “Are you ready?”

Eleven shrugs. “Is anyone?”

Robin gives half a laugh. “I guess not.” She turns to Nancy. “Is there an exit that doesn’t go through the house?”

Nancy nods and leads them out. “I’ll get everyone else,” she says. “Meet you back there as soon as we can. Be safe.”

“You too,” Robin says, grabbing El’s hand and running for Wayne’s truck.

“Where to?” Wayne asks.

“The Harrington place. Will you come inside?”

“All due respect, Robin, but my boy’s in there. There ain’t no way in hell I’m leavin’ him alone.” There’s a slight pause before he says, rather uncomfortably, “Not because I don’t trust you, of course-”

“No, of course not,” Robin waves him off.

“And, uh.” He winks at El. “You’ll have to pardon my French, little lady.”

She giggles at him. “But you weren’t speaking any French!”

Wayne chuckles. “No I wasn’t, and a smart one you are for knowin’ that. No, pardon my French just means excuse my potty mouth.”

El turns to Robin, who says, deadpan, “He means ‘cause he said hell.”

“Oh,” El says, as Wayne splutters but ultimately stays quiet.

Soon enough they’re at the Harrington place, and Wayne barely parks the truck before they’re all running in.

Robin stops him just before they get inside. “Did Eddie explain any of this to you?”

Wayne blinks at her. “No.”

“Shit,” she whispers. “Okay, look, long story short, which I’m kinda really terrible at, like worst person ever, like I can’t tell a short story to save my life-”

“Robin.”

“Right, short story, right. Um, we’ll explain more later, but basically me and Steve are time traveling here from four years in the future because there’s a wizard guy- well he’s not a wizard, actually, it’s Henry Creel, but anyways things happen and he’s got powers and he’s like a wizard and he’s trying to get control of peoples’ heads and kill them. And he’s trying it with Steve’s sister, Allison, right now. So… that’s what we’re about to walk into.”

Wayne sighs. “Is there anythin’ for me to shoot at?”

Robin blinks. “Well, no. Not right now, at least. But later there could be. If you want to be involved.”

“I ain’t lettin’ y’all do this while I sit by and do nothin’. That ain’t how I was raised.”

Robin stares at him for a beat, nods, and together they run inside.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @muricel @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

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[nadia-el-mansours]

"And remind him we don't accept bribes at NASA" is such a baller line coming from the woman who regularly tries to bribe the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. "I'm the one who bribes" - Margo Madison, 1992

[allatariel]

Seven Sentence Sunday

Thank you to @gordopickett who tagged me two Sundays ago <3 I am so slow!!

Tagging: @madamairlock @brynnmclean, @callioope, @toodeeplyinvested, @tiltedsyllogism

Tagging more (because tumblr is broken): @spectral-musette, @narilwrites, @sparkleplatypuswriter, @moocowmoocow, @melyzard

And anyone else who would like to <3

So, this is a brand new season 4 standard issue fix-it, because I have no focus and am going with the flow—when it decides to actually flow. The idea came to me while I was writing some tags on an imagine your OTP style post on Friday night and then proceeded to stay up way too late writing this as a path to that. And going back to check my memory of Graciana this morning, I think I misremembered her as 4–5 instead of 5–6 years old, something to fix later! This may pull in the other season 4 snippets I've already posted, not sure yet. But definitely leads to Brazil! Currently calling it We Are Fortunate Ones I Swear. Also, I can't seem to limit myself to sharing seven sentences, so here's an additional twelve with it!

“Mamá!” Graciana exclaimed again, with even more gusto and a touch of sass, and Aleida’s attention snapped to her. Her daughter’s attention was fixed on something outside her window and her face lit up as she pointed. “I see tío!” Aleida’s brow furrowed as she followed the line of her pointing hand to see a familiar man holding a black umbrella stepping off the curb to cross the street in front of them. They’d only met a few times and Graciana was already calling him “tío”? Before Aleida could even begin to process that thought, Graciana had jabbed the button to roll down her window and called to him at top volume. “Tío Sergei!” Sergei looked startled and then smiled warmly when he recognized them. “Miss Graciana! Hello!” he called and she giggled as he hurried over to her and bent down some, holding his umbrella over the open window. “You’re getting rain in your mother’s lovely car,” he chided her gently before giving Aleida a nod and waving. “Hello Aleida.” Graciana shyly leaned back towards Aleida, her prior boldness gone but her smile remained bright. Aleida smirked at her daughter’s sudden shift and addressed Sergei. “What are you doing walking in this mess?” “Oh, it’s not so bad, only a little drizzle. My hotel is right there”—he pointed behind him and then at the McDonald’s across the street—”and I’m just getting some dinner.” “We’re having ice cream bars!” Graciana found her voice again and Sergei chuckled as Aleida grinned and wrapped her arm around her. “After dinner, there may be ice cream,” Aleida corrected Graciana without any heat and then looked up at Sergei smiling at them a little distantly. “Would you like to join us?” she asked without really thinking of anything but the fondness she’d seen between him and Margo at dinner only a few nights ago.

[sparkleplatypuswriter]

Chapter 4, in which our two little space nerds might just go on a cute little date in Brazil. 12:01 by sparkle_platypus Chapters: 4/5 Fandom: For All Mankind (TV 2019) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Margo Madison/Sergei Nikulov, Margo Madison & Aleida Rosales, Sergei Nikulov & Aleida Rosales Characters: Margo Madison, Sergei Nikulov, Aleida Rosales, Irina Morozova (mentioned), Emma Jorgens (mentioned), original character Additional Tags: season four divergent, fix-it fic, we're going to Brazil baby, literal journey, healing journey, slow burn, letting them have nice things for once, discussions and depictions of PTSD Summary: Margo and Sergei find their way towards Brazil and each other.

[inquisitor-edgelord]

They are the Defenders of Humanity. They are my Space Marines and they shall know no fear. 

Since tumblr doesn't allow this many options on a poll, what's your favorite pre-heresy colour scheme?

Artist/s Unknown (if known, please lmk to credit)

[giantkillerjack]

How uniquely good is the expression work and animation in @worthikids (Ian Worthington's) Bigtop Burger??

So good that I have spent many hours combing through every single frame of animation in this series so far while taking well over 1,000 screenshots so that I can use them as reference for art practice.

Highly recommend for anyone who has like 20 minutes to watch everything that's out so far. So many of the quotes from this just live in my brain now

But I'm not done talking about the animation - I mean, it is absolute next-level delightful shit right down to the cinematography and it is so wild that most of the work on this is done by one guy.

All the characters have great expressions, but ffs every second that Cesare is onscreen, Ian Worthington has animated Chris Fleming's voice-acting and improv SO GOOD that I basically had to watch every single one of those lines on 1/4 speed over and over to make sure I didn't miss anything.

[gergthecat]

:0

[gordopickett]

And If It’s Not Okay... (For All Mankind post-s2 fix-it fic)

*** Chapter 31 is up! ***

Chapter Title: Astronaut’s Wife

Chapter Summary: Ed goes back home to have a conversation with Karen about their marriage, but it doesn't go as smoothly as he had hoped.

And for anyone who wants to read the chapter here on Tumblr...

*******

Chapter 31: Astronaut’s Wife

Ed drove back home from Ellington in his two-tone Stingray. He and Gordo had taken the T-38s up again. Ed had been a little concerned at first about Gordo getting back up into the air after what had just happened. A “panic attack,” Gordo had called it.

Ed had listened to Gordo take a few deep, calming breaths before their second takeoff, but after that, Gordo had seemed fine. In the air, they had joked and laughed like normal, giving each other a hard time. They had agreed to a best-of-three in their second round of dogfighting. Gordo kicked Ed’s ass twice in a row.

Gordo had always been an amazing pilot – probably the best pilot Ed knew – but Gordo seemed more confident in the air lately than he had in years. Since before their first mission to Jamestown. Gordo’s renewed confidence reminded Ed of how he had been ten or fifteen years earlier. He was an even better pilot nowadays. He wasn’t arrogant like he had been back then, but he had faith in his skills as a pilot.

Despite the panic attacks, despite everything he had been through, Gordo still came alive when he was in a cockpit. And Ed was proud of him for doing that. He was proud of Gordo for immediately facing his fear and getting back into the cockpit at Ellington. Ed could tell that Gordo had changed tremendously over the past few months. He still had his demons. He still had his fears. But he wasn’t letting those things hold him back any longer. Ed was glad to see it.

And even more than that, Ed felt inspired by it.

He had been afraid to talk to Karen. Afraid of what might happen. Afraid she would tell him that their marriage was over. That she wanted out.

But Ed was ready to talk now. He wanted to make things work. He wanted to stay married and fix whatever had broken between them. He was ready to let Karen know how he felt.

After climbing out of the T-38s, Ed and Gordo had made plans to meet up at the Pine Grill at the Shamrock the next evening. In the meantime, Ed was going back home to talk to Karen.

Ed rolled up in the driveway and went into the house. He found Karen at the kitchen table, balancing the checkbook. There were papers scattered over the surface of the table, but Ed didn’t look at them.

“Hey,” he said, stopping in the doorway to the kitchen.

Karen looked up, a small smile playing on her lips as she looked him over. He was still wearing his flight suit, but he had removed his parachute pack and left it in the car with his flight bag.

“Hi,” Karen said, looking at him curiously. “Where are you headed?”

“Nowhere,” he said. “I just got back from Ellington. Gordo and I took up a couple of jets.”

“Oh,” she said, setting down the checkbook. “Everybody okay? Nobody had to be rescued from the Gulf this time?”

“No.” Ed smiled sheepishly. “No, everyone is fine.”

“That’s good.” She paused briefly. “How are you?” she asked. “How’s Kelly?”

“We’re...okay,” he said. “You?”

“I’m okay.”

He nodded slowly, letting his gaze wander around the kitchen, not looking at anything in particular.

“What’s going on, Ed?” she asked finally.

He scratched at the back of his neck, and as he lowered his hand, he said, “I was hoping we could talk.” He paused. “About us.”

“Okay,” she said. “Are you sure?”

He looked at her. He thought he was sure. He had been sure on the drive over. But now, looking at Karen sitting in their kitchen, he wasn’t so sure. His fear about the future of their marriage was returning. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, thinking about Gordo getting back in the T-38 after his panic attack. If he could do that, Ed could surely have a conversation with his wife.

Finally, Ed nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“All right,” Karen said, setting the checkbook down on the table. “Would you like to start?”

Ed hesitated. He didn’t know how to begin. He didn’t know what Karen was thinking or what she wanted for their relationship.

Ed thought about what he wanted. He took a deep breath and said, “I don’t want to get divorced.”

Karen nodded slowly but said nothing.

Unable to read how she was feeling or what she was thinking, he said, “I don’t know what happened.” He hesitated, stammering a bit as he continued. “With—with us. I don’t—I don’t know what went wrong.” He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. “I want to fix it, though. I want…” He trailed off and sighed softly. “I want us to be okay.”

Karen studied him for a long time. Ed still couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

“Thank you,” she said finally. “For wanting to talk about us.”

He nodded and slowly walked towards the table where she sat. “What, um—How are you...feeling about it? About us?”

Karen took a deep breath. She looked down at the table where the papers were scattered about. He glanced down as well, noting, among other things, a pamphlet for William and Mary.

“I’m glad you want to fix things,” she said, looking up at him again. “I do too.”

Ed exhaled a relieved sigh. “Good.”

“But we have a lot of work to do, Ed.”

“Okay,” he said, taking a seat to her left at the table. “You said you think we need counseling.”

“I do.”

He nodded. “If that’s what it takes to fix things, we can do that.”

“Yeah,” she said softly, almost in a whisper. She looked down at the table again, absently fingering the corner of the William and Mary pamphlet.

He glanced down at it. He knew Kelly had been considering William and Mary, but he was pretty sure that she had since decided on the Naval Academy. Ed wondered why Karen had the pamphlet out.

“That’s not all, though,” Karen said.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re an astronaut, Ed,” she began. He didn’t know where she was going with it, so he waited for her to continue. “Your whole life has been about the Navy and NASA. Which means that my whole life has been about those things too.”

She looked at him, and Ed wondered if he was supposed to understand what she was getting at. He didn’t.

“After Shane, I stopped caring so much about being the dutiful astronaut’s wife. And when I bought The Outpost, I thought I was carving my own path.”

Ed nodded his agreement.

“But that’s not true,” Karen said.

Ed furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Sure, I owned a bar. But it’s an astronaut bar. The astronauts still hang out there. Other people come in, hoping to get a glimpse of an astronaut and to buy astronaut trinkets and baubles.” She went quiet for a moment.

“I—I don’t understand.”

“My whole life still revolves around the space program. Around your career.” She paused. “I love you, Ed. And I support you. I do.”

“Okay,” he said, dragging out the word. “But?”

“But I need something just for me, Ed. I’ve never had that.”

Ed shook his head, confused. “What are you saying?”

She searched his eyes for a long moment before saying, “I’m thinking about going to business school.”

Ed opened his mouth to speak but didn’t know what to say. He would support her – of course he would – but he didn’t understand why she seemed hesitant to tell him.

“I need to be able to do something for myself. I want that, Ed.”

“Okay,” he said, still confused. “I think that’s great, Karen. You should do something for yourself.”

She glanced down at the table again. Ed followed her gaze, eyeing the William and Mary pamphlet again. His stomach knotted.

“Wait,” he uttered. “Are you…”

She looked up at him, and he could tell that she was bracing for his reaction.

“No,” he said. “You’re—You’re wanting to go to William and Mary?”

“I’m thinking about it,” she said, holding his gaze.

He got up from his seat. He paced for a few seconds and then stopped, looking at Karen who remained at the table. “You want to go to school halfway across the country?”

“Like I said, Ed, I’m thinking about it.”

“How are we supposed to work on our marriage when you’re in Virginia?”

“This semester has already begun, so the earliest I could start would be the spring semester. We would still have months before I would need to leave.”

“‘Leave,’” Ed muttered with a wry chuckle. “You want to leave?”

“What’s the big deal, Ed? You leave all the time. And space – hell, the moon – is a hell of a lot farther than the east coast.”

“That’s…” Ed trailed off, not sure what to say. She had a point. He hated that she had a point, but she did.

“Don’t say ‘that’s different,’ Ed. It’s not. Your entire career – our entire marriage – has been based on you leaving. Going to war. Going to space.”

“Yeah, but…” Ed waved a hand, unsure how to continue. It felt different to him, but he couldn’t figure out why.

“But what, Ed? Is it because it’s me leaving this time? It’s okay as long as you are the one who gets to leave, but it’s not okay if it’s me. Is that it?”

“I…” That was part of it, but Ed didn’t want to admit it. He knew that would only anger Karen. “I thought you wanted to work on our marriage.”

“I do, Ed. It doesn’t have to be either-or. We can do both.”

“How?” he demanded, raising his voice. “You’ll be gone for months at a time.”

“You were on the moon for months, Ed,” she said plainly.

“Yeah, but—But we still talked. We had the video comms.”

“We can still do that,” Karen said. “I’ll get a comm for my apartment in Virginia.”

“Your…” Ed shook his head in disbelief. “Your apartment?”

“Yeah, I don’t imagine I’ll stay in the dorms.”

“I don’t—You’ve already decided this, haven’t you?”

“I haven’t,” she said. “Not for sure. But it is something I’m seriously considering, Ed.”

“I…” Ed trailed off, shaking his head again. He didn’t understand what was happening. “I came here to talk about us,” he said, his voice strained with emotion. “And now you’re telling me you want to leave. You want to go halfway across the country instead of staying here to work on our marriage.”

“Not ‘instead of,’” Karen said.

“I don’t—I can’t listen to this right now.” Eyes stinging, Ed turned and headed for the door.

“Ed,” Karen said from behind him.

Something screamed at him to stop. To turn around and go back. To finish talking with Karen and figure things out. But he didn’t listen. He stormed out the front door, hopped in his Corvette, and sped towards the Shamrock.

[captainfern]

REQUESTS OPEN ?!?!?!? PLEEEEASE ,MAY I ????

May i request a piece for our boi Casper ( Ghost ) 🥹🥹? Something along the idea of : mutual pining with reader being an absolute sweetheart to Ghost (and everyone else but mostly Casper) BUT it starts with Ghost trying to make reader go away by being a dick to them to avoid dealing with the feelings, reader gets hurt and upset and then turn into the most cold stone souless person every seen by mankind and ofcourse Ghost is mad and trying to fix it but how to do that when nothing works .... Confess \o/

Can be nsfw if you want it to be, I can bet on anything that no one will mind :3

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Orion

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

[“Orion” by Metallica]

[18+]

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• summary - a bit of grumpy x sunshine. grumpy fucks it up and really, really wants to apologise lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 5k • warnings - fem!reader, grumpy!ghost at the start but that doesn't last long lol, porn with a sprinkle of plot, a bit of subby!ghost [he begs— you're fucking welcome whores 🙏], oral [f!receiving], unprotected piv, mutual masturbation, orgasm denial?, ok it's not "a bit" of sub!ghost it's a lot of sub!ghost, he whines and whimpers in this btw, praise, begging, good lord this is self-indulgent, strong language

thank you anon !! i've changed it a little, just because i don't think ghost would be a complete dick, just a grumpy and if he does act like a dick, he doesn't mean it fr <3 but i hope you like it anyway !!

and hehe yes i made it nsfw i can't resist i mean look at that man

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He was hopelessly in love with you.

And it fucking pissed him off.

How could he not be? You flounced around base, smiling and giggling at god knows what. You cooked for the task force, helped clean, kept them company in the rec-room, all with a dazzling smile plastered on your face.

You were kind and respectful, too. Always did what Price told you, like a good little rookie. Always listened to Soap's advice, improving your shooting techniques. Always understood Gaz's signals, knowing exactly what he was thinking, and what he wanted you to do. And always, always being so good for your lieutenant.

You waited on tenterhooks at every word that came from Ghost's mouth. He watched the way you listened to him, your full attention on him. Sparkling eyes watching his next move, ears in tune to the slight huff and puff of his brewing anger. It seemed you knew how to deal with his emotions better than he did.

And it pissed him off.

You never seemed to get angry with him, frustrated or upset. No matter how many times he raised his voice, reprimanded you for doing something utterly moronic. You just nodded, apologised calmly, smiled and walked away, leaving him smouldering inside his own grievances.

"What the fuck are you doing, rookie? You're in the fucking way."

"Sorry, Lieutenant!" You chirped, bounding away.

And that wasn't the only way you put up with him.

Some days were hard for Ghost, dealing with everything going on inside his head. He struggled to admit it, too. So when he found himself in the barracks kitchen at three in the morning, frustration bubbling inside him, he threw the jar he had struggled— and failed to open— at the wall. It burst, shattering into a million tiny pieces, sprinkling across the floor like shards of crystal. The contents— strawberry jam, if he remembered correctly— slugged down the wall, a vibrant red trail smearing against the paint.

You entered, maybe awoken by the shattering of glass, finding Ghost heaving silently in the kitchen, chest moving at a million miles per hour as his heart raced.

You stretched a hand in his direction. "Are you—?"

"Don't." Ghost hissed.

You retreated.

"Do you need—?"

"Didn't I fucking say don't?" Ghost snapped, eyes flashing.

He knew that was harsh. Saw it in the way your bottom lip trembled every so slightly, and your sparkling eyes dimmed in the low light of the kitchen. But, you didn't give up. Of course you fucking didn't.

He watched you silently as you grabbed the broom from the edge of the room, and began sweeping up the glass. He continued to watch as you scooped up the shards of glass, every last glittering fragment, and toss them into the bin. You even cleaned the large smear of jam off the wall, humming quietly to yourself as you did.

Ghost just watched.

Once you were done, you turned to him, offering a sympathetic smile. Then, you walked to the refrigerator and plucked another jar of jam from the door. You offered it to him, still smiling.

"This one's raspberry. Not strawberry, unfortunately, but I think it tastes better, anyway." Maybe you were just trying to make him feel better. If you did, it worked. Spitefully well, too.

He took it from you. He didn't thank you, though, just turned away with a muffled sigh. You continued to look at him, a soft smile still on your lips.

He wondered if you were expecting a thank you. Probably. So when he went to open his mouth, when he went to mutter out a thank you, he turned, and you were gone, shuffling out of the kitchen, still humming to yourself.

A week later, Ghost was still intent on denying whatever it was he felt for you.

The five of you on a day off, relaxing around the rec-room. You played pool with Gaz, laughing. Melodic. You looked so carefree, so effortlessly beautiful, and it made Ghost's cheeks heat up beneath his mask. Fucking hell.

You were quite handsy with the sergeant, too, Ghost noticed. Hugging and touching, arms around his waist, fingers trailing his arms. Ghost watched from across the room, seething silently. Gaz made you laugh again. Again and again and the sound of your laughter was making the grip Ghost had on his glass almost earth-shattering. All white-knuckle and pure jealously. Not like he admitted that to himself, though.

You eventually turned your pretty face towards Ghost, lips curved.

"Fancy a game, L.T?" You battered your eyelashes, biting your lower lip briefly. Or was that in Ghost's head?

"Pass." Ghost forced himself to grunt, heat blooming in his chest.

You pouted. "Aw, come on, Ghost—!"

"Pass." Ghost repeated, cutting you off with his deep baritone.

You closed your mouth, but still his grumpiness didn't deter you. You shrugged to yourself, turning back to Gaz with that signature smile of yours.

"Another round then, Garrick?"

"You're on."

A few days after that, Ghost was reaching his breaking point.

He was trying everything in his right mind to keep you away from him. To stop you from being such a goddamn angel, doting on his every doing. He wanted you to see who he really was, who he felt like he really was.

You were particularly happy this day. Seemingly bouncing around the barracks, the pure essence of you permeating the entire space— burning white, tooth-rotting sweetness, smelling of everything that Ghost loved. Loved about you. Fuck, he was mad.

You circled the room, hugging each of your comrades. You hugged Price like the father-figure he was. Short and sweet, but warm and comforting. You had your head to his chest, mumbling something that made Price smile, eyes squinting.

Then you hugged Soap. The bastard swept you off your feet, making you giggle. He said something to you that had you snorting out a bemused laugh, smacking him lightly on the chest when he put you down. He pat you gently on the head before you were sprinting to Gaz.

The way your face lit up made Ghost's heart clench.

You practically threw yourself into Gaz's arms, your arms around his shoulders as his circled your waist. He pressed you close— too close for Ghost's liking— rocking you gently as you thanked him. For what? What the hell were you thanking him for?

After what seemed like an eternity of Ghost burning daggers into you and the sergeant, you broke away, and began to approach Ghost. He froze in place, back to the kitchen counter. What were you doing? Approaching him looking so happy and perfect?

He acted out. On instinct.

You opened your arms, and he skulked away.

"Don't you dare," he grumbled, backing away. "I am not in the mood for whatever it is you're doing today, rookie."

Your smile faltered. A millisecond. "But, Ghost—?"

"Seriously, rookie," Ghost said sternly. "What's got you acting like this at eight in the morning?"

At that very moment, he felt his heart break into thousands of pieces.

Your smile dropped.

The glimmer in your eyes faded.

Without a word, you left the room, and Gaz hurried after you. Ghost followed your departing form with curious eyes. Then, he turned to Price and Soap, who were looking at him in dissapointment.

"What?" He gritted, jaw ticking.

"You're a fool, L.T. A real fool." Soap shook his head slowly.

Ghost huffed. "What d'you mean?"

"You're always acting like a complete dick to her," Soap continued. "Even on her birthday."

Ghost's heart leapt into his throat, stomach twisting, making him nauseous.

"Her... birthday?" Ghost tried not to let the waver in his voice sound through.

Soap nodded. "Yeah. S'why she's in such a good mood. Gaz got her something nice, I think—"

"What Soap's trying to say is that you, being a stubborn prick, has made her special day... not so special." Price added, digging a cigar and a lighter from his pocket. He left the room, heading outside, offering no more words, making Ghost's nervousness swell.

He turned to Soap, desperation clawing his insides. "What should I—?"

"Go and apologise, ya fuckhead." Soap beat him to it.

Wordlessly, Ghost left, hurrying towards your bedroom. When he got there, Gaz was just leaving, and the sergeant gave the lieutenant a stern look.

Ghost was almost breathless. "I need—"

"No, you don't, Ghost," Gaz said softly. "You've done enough."

"But—?"

"Seriously, Ghost, just leave," Gaz continued. "You're always so grumpy towards her, anyway. Just leave it."

He pushed past Ghost. Ghost stood outside your door, the urge to open it almost overwhelming. But he didn't. Hands in fists, nails digging into his palms, he walked away.

He needed to hit something.

•º•

You successfully avoided him for a week. He commended you internally for your ability to avoid him like the fucking plague. But, he hated it. He hated the way he made you feel, and he hated the way you were making him feel. His emotions were all over the place, and he desperately needed to get them in check.

So, he came to a conclusion.

He needed to apologise.

Well, he had been trying to. You weren't having any of it. He respected that.

But now, he was inching past his ability to remain respectful. Each time your smile faded when he entered the room; each time you ignored a simple favour or request of his; each time you wrapped yourself into Gaz's arms after a long, strenuous mission.

That sent him over the edge.

It was a stormy night, complete with heavy rain and the distant roll of thunder, when Ghost idled outside your bedroom door. He was a war-machine, a killer— but he was desperately working himself up to knock on your door. He was nervous.

So when he did finally knock, his heartrate was elevated.

You opened the door a crack, peering into the shadowed hallway. Ghost saw your eyes flicker across his body; how rich they were in emotion. He rushed forward and quickly jammed his foot in the door, noticing you begin to push it closed.

"What do you want?" You hissed, so devoid of your usual sunshine.

"Can... can I talk to you?"

A moment passed. Then, you opened the door, and let him inside.

Your room was exactly how Ghost had imagined it. Just like you. Warm, cozy, sweet-smelling. It was dripping in everything that was you. Ghost inhaled deeply, watching as you plonked yourself down on the edge of your bed, body illuminated by the soft golden light of your lamp.

You crossed your arms over your chest. "Well?"

Ghost just released it all. Everything he wanted to tell you, he did. He apologised profusely, again and again. He admitted to being a complete dickhead, and then apologised for that. He thanked you for putting up with him, for listening to him, for understanding him so well. And at the end of it all, he confessed.

"I'm in love with you."

You gaped at him.

"Always have been."

You were at a loss for words.

But Ghost wasn't. For the first time in a long time, he wasn't.

"I love you, rookie. I really do."

You blinked at him, then slowly got to your feet. He watched you, heart slamming against his ribcage, cheeks stinging hot beneath the fabric of his balaclava. He watched as you neared, lifting your hands to cup his face over the material.

"Prove it."

Ghost swallowed, throat dry all of a sudden. "What?"

"Prove how much you love me." You whispered, biting your lower lip.

This time, Ghost knew the action wasn't just in his head.

Because when he pressed closer to you, placing his gloved hands on your waist, he saw you release your bottom lip and curl your mouth into a smile. The smile he loved.

"I'm sorry, for everything." Ghost whispered as he backed you towards your bed.

"I know," you said, sitting on your bed and hooking your legs around his waist, pulling him down on top of you. "So show me."

Ghost couldn't help himself. Even with the mask still on, he slammed his mouth onto yours. He expected some kind of protest as he parted his lips, tongue pressing to the smooth fabric, heat and moisture smothering yours. But you didn't— you sighed outwardly, becoming pliant as you moved your own lips, revelling in the solid heat of his tongue against your own through the fabric.

He let out a low sound, a mix between a grunt and a whine, as he pressed himself closer to you. He was slowly getting frustrated by the material barrier as he kissed you. He pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to the lower part of his mask. It snapped, and made Ghost's breath hitch.

It's like you could read his mind as you looked into his eyes.

"You wanna take it off?" You asked, fingers at his neck, where the end of the balaclava sat snugly near the base. Your fingers squeezed gently, and he exhaled loudly.

He whined, hushed, from the back of his throat. "Yeah..."

"Yeah?" You grinned, gently rolling the mask upwards. It cleared his neck, then over his jaw, exposing his mouth and nose, before finally being ripped from his head entirely, leaving him exposed to you.

He usually would have felt nervous. Self-conscious, definitely. But not tonight. Not when, as a clap of thunder sounded outside, you moaned at the sight of him, and yanked his face back towards your own. It made his cock harden, painful in his cargos, as your mouths interlocked again. Your tongue swept into his first, and he let out another low noise, your fingers tugging at the roots of his hair.

Ghost shifted you both, making sure your head touched your pillows, resting comfortably. Still kissing, his hands explored down your body, skimming your sides, your thighs. Your hands tightened in his hair when one of his hands drifted inwards, brushing your upper inner thigh. He panted as you pulled him away from you, blond locks clutched in your fist. He looked down at you, eyes and lips just as glossy as each other, cheeks pink.

"You still want to apologise?" You asked, other hand drawing around his face and cupping his jaw.

He nodded, slightly, not doing much in your grip.

"Good," you hummed, pleased. "Get on the floor."

He did as he was told. Straight a-fucking-way. Now kneeling on the floor beside your bed, you sat on the edge. Slowly, ever so slowly, you pulled down your pyjama pants. Ghost watched you, completely rapt, as your fingers worked your underwear down your legs.

"Fucking hell..." He whispered as you kicked your underwear away.

You put your backside onto the edge of your bed, beckoning him closer. He shuffled further, and you placed your legs across his shoulders as his hands snaked up to grab at your thighs. Your core was bare to him under the golden lamplight, practically glistening. He withheld a moan as he leaned forward, attempting to put his mouth on you. But, you stopped him— clamping your thighs on either side of his head.

This time, he did let his moan out, high and breathy as he looked up at you through long, blond lashes, head encased between the plush of your thighs.

You looked down at him, tutting. "What do you want?"

He blinked at you, eyes narrowing slightly.

You flexed the muscles of your legs, tightening the weight of your thighs against his ears and cheeks. He grunted, closing his eyes.

"Well?" You prompted. "Tell me, Si."

Maybe it was the use of the nickname, of his real name. Maybe it was the heat of your flesh searing the sides of his head. Maybe it was the way his erection was growing impossibly hard inside his pants. Whatever it was made Ghost whimper. Fucking whimper.

Embarrassment, red hot, flared across his face.

"Want to taste you," he whispered, face burning. "Please."

"This is how you wanna apologise?" You teased, bringing a hand down to his head, massaging his scalp. "Wanna make me cum on your tongue?"

He tried his best to reply, groaning deep from his chest, hands kneading the flesh of your thighs. "Please, baby, please."

You chuckled, releasing the tension in your legs. "Only because you asked so nicely."

Ghost was elated. He practically surged forward, licking a fat stripe up your slit. You mewled, hands clinging to his hair, as he ran his tongue up and down your folds. He repeated his actions, before dragging his tongue downwards, circling your dripping hole. Nose nudging your clit, his tongue delved inside you, making you shudder.

He was in heaven. The small, breathy noises you were making; the way you gripped and pulled at his slightly grown-out hair; the taste of your arousal that was leaking out of you. His cock jumped with each stroke of his tongue, his own arousal building with each subtle sound he elicited from your pretty mouth. His large, gloved hands massaged your thighs, groping the soft flesh. He enjoyed the warmth near the sides of his head.

"Feels good, Si." You breathed, and Ghost's cock jumped again.

He groaned into you, vibrations sending your mind spiralling. Heat was building in the base of your tummy as his nose continually nudged against your swollen clit. Ghost was grunting and groaning quietly into your sopping cunt, lapping up every bit of arousal he could. Pearls of it slipped past his lips, rolling down his chin, iridescent in the light. He didn't care. Of course he didn't. He was fucking loving it.

You moaned again when Ghost quickly moved his tongue in a zig-zag motion up your slit, before sucking your clit into his mouth, front teeth grazing it gently. Your hips bucked, urging him closer.

"Si, oh my god— ha, fuck— feels so good," you keened, pleasure unfurling inside you. "Fuck, doing so good, Si. Such a good boy—"

Ghost short-circuited as you came in his mouth. He dipped his head to stuff his tongue back into your hole just in time, catching your release in his mouth. But your breathy words, good boy, echoed around his skull and made him whine, impossibly loud, into your cunt. He felt his stomach pang, balls tightening, before he fucking came in his pants, whispering your name into your fluttering hole.

His face grew hotter than it already was when he pulled away from you, dragging his right cheek across your inner thigh, light stubble tickling you. You breathed deeply above him, watching with hooded eyes as he placed a line of gentle kisses from your bikini line to your knee.

You massaged his scalp, and his eyes fluttered.

He was wondering if you noticed that he—

You released a breathy laugh, and his eyes snapped open, immediately finding yours. You tugged your legs away, planting them on the floor. Ghost continued to kneel in front of you.

"Aww, my poor baby," you muttered, and it would've been patronising if Ghost wasn't so whipped right now. "D'you cum already?"

He grit his teeth. "Don't—"

"S'okay, Si, it's okay," you smiled, patting his burning cheek. "I understand. I tasted that good, huh?"

You laughed again, another roll of thunder cracking outside. Ghost nodded, ashamed almost, but not regretful. He'd die a happy man if he could spend even another second in your wet cunt.

"Come on then," you said suddenly, scooting back onto your bed. "Since you're so desperate, right?"

He looked at you and then slowly got to his feet, legs trembling slightly.

You leaned against your pillow— looking like an absolute angel— spreading your legs as you wiggled your bra off, exposing your tits. Ghost's cock grew again, sticky with his own spend. You dragged your hands over your tits, tweaking your nipples while Ghost clambered onto the bed, kneeling between your legs. He was still fully dressed.

Not for long, clearly.

"Clothes." You said simply, and he obeyed.

Your hands dragged down your body, skirting across your stomach as Ghost pulled his gloves and shirt off, his trousers following. He huffed, pulling his underwear off and dumping them on the floor, ignoring the obvious that was splattered inside. Now bare, he kneeled back between your legs, a hand settling on one of your ankles, the other gripping the base of his cock.

Your hands dipped between your legs, and he let out a gravelly whine as you pushed two fingers into your wet cunt, the other hand moving a finger to your puffy clit. He was salivating.

"You know, I've liked you for a long time, Si," you said, voice a bit whiny. Ghost licked his lips. You continued, voice a whisper. "Mm... 's how I touched myself thinking about you."

You demonstrated perfectly; two fingers knuckle deep in your hole, another pressing tight circles to your clit. You mewled his name.

"Oh, fuck." Ghost whispered, hips and cock bucking into his fist. Just once. The look you gave him made him pause. All fucked out, blissful, in complete and utter control.

"Mhm, yeah— my grumpy lieutenant, always telling me what to do. Always so rough with me," you crooned as you fucked yourself with your fingers, Ghost's eyes burning into you as he lazily stroked himself. "S'just... that's not you, is it, Si? You don't wanna be rough with me, do you? You just wanna be my good boy, I know."

Ghost whined, releasing his cock and crawling up to you. He grabbed your hands, pulling them away from your cunt, much to your amusement.

"Fucking Christ, don't say that—" Ghost hissed as he brought your hand to his face, drawing your two fingers into his mouth and sucking your arousal clean off.

You smiled. "What? Considering you came in your boxers untouched, I'd say you like being called that."

Ghost groaned, fingers leaving his mouth with a wet pop. A string of saliva followed, and it broke when he chased past your hand, pressing his mouth to yours. You kissed, hot and heavy, for a minute, the rain hammering the roof outside. You moved a hand down, skating down his abs, before gripping his cock.

"Hah—" He breathed, gasping into your mouth as you pumped him, fingers wet with his saliva.

You kissed him still: sloppily, as you jerked him off. He barely responded, lips pliant against yours, eyes closed as the pleasure of your hand around his cock sent him into a daze. You licked into his mouth, his tongue struggling to meet yours, as you pumped him faster and faster until you could feel him twitching in your hand.

"Mmm... gonna..." Ghost murmured, drunk, against your mouth.

You pulled your hand away.

"Ah— fuck no," Ghost swallowed a frustrated moan, voice muted as you pushed his head away.

You licked your lips as you looked at him. He could've cum from that sight alone.

"You want to make it up to me, right?" You asked.

He nodded, cheeks red.

You leaned in close, pressing a kiss to the curve of his jaw. "Then fuck me."

Ghost's mouth dropped open in a short lived moan before you were kissing him. Kissing him so hard it made him dizzy; high off the sweet taste of you.

Meanwhile, he was clumsily aligning his cock with your wet cunt, his tip reddened and leaking pre, rolling in rivulets down the sides of his rigid cock. The head notched your entrance, and you released a shaky breath. He pulled out of the kiss.

"You... alright?" He asked, sounding more than a little breathless.

You nodded. "Mmmfuck, yeah."

"You sure?" He asked, the head of his cock sitting heavy at your entrance.

You looked him directly in the eyes, and he released a low sound, bending to kiss you again.

"Please," you said into the kiss. "Need you to fuck me, Si."

"Okay," he murmured, dragging his lips along your jaw. "Okay, okay, fuck, okay—"

He eased his cock into you as he mumbled incoherently, cursing. You were so wet, so warm, so fucking tight. He nipped at your neck, distracting himself so he didn't cum straight away because he did not need that kind of embarrassment haunting him for the rest of his life. Your arms curled around his broad shoulders, fingers flexing along the rigid plains of his muscles, tips brushing each smooth scar.

"That's it, Si, that's it," you told him, lips to the shell of his ear. "Feels good— so full."

He whimpered into your neck, face and body hot as his cock sunk further into you. His hips slapped to yours as he finally bottomed out, just as he moved himself out of your neck so that he could look down at you. As usual, you looked absolutely stunning; eyes glazed, kiss-bitten lips parted.

He couldn't help himself.

"You're beautiful," he said as he pulled his cock all the way out, before slamming back into you. "So beautiful... so pretty... such a pretty girl."

You hummed a moan past the smile spreading on your lips, Ghost finding a pace and rhythm as he bullied his cock into your wet heat over and over again, heavy balls slapping the curve of your arse as you were jolted against your mattress.

Ghost's hands were all over your body, as if he was committing it to memory. Running up and down your sides, groping along your tits, fingers dancing across your throat. Large hands moved to your thighs, massaging the plush flesh. Gently, he grasped the backs of your knees and slowly pushed your legs upwards, towards your chest. You smiled lazily at him as, still drilling his cock into you, he tucked your legs to your chest, pressing his body impossibly closer.

You tossed your head back, moaning loudly at the new angle. His warm hands on your legs, the heat of his hard body against yours, his fat cock stuffing you full. The sounds he was making. You were incased in pure ecstasy.

Ghost was a whimpering, whining mess above you. The big boy with the skull-face, so dangerous and imposing and deadly, reduced to such a sensitive, desperate being.

He was still whispering things under his breath, eyes periodically closing each time your cunt pulsed around him.

"S-such a pretty girl, my pretty girl," he uttered before a keening moan. "Hah—fuck— mmm—my god."

Already, you noticed the shift in his pace and thrusts; growing sloppier, yet he still nailed that spongey spot inside you that made you dig your nails harder into his back, stretching you tighter.

"Feels good, Si?" You prompted as he flopped his head back into the crook of your neck, hulking figure still pinning your legs to your chest, his hands heavy on your thighs.

"So good," he whispered into your neck. "So good, baby, fuck— 'm not gonna last."

You arched closer into him as the head of his cock kissed your womb. You could feel him in your stomach, and clearly, so could Ghost. He moved backwards, out of your neck, parting your bent legs. He could see the imprint of his cock deep inside you, a small bump in the soft mound of your tummy. He groaned deeply, pressing a hand to it. Then, you both moaned in unison, before he was snapping your legs back against your chest and spearing his cock inside you with newfound vigour.

"Gonna cum Si." You told him, pressing kisses along his face.

"Yeah?" He caught your lips, licking into your mouth for a second. "Yeah, come on then, baby, please."

A thick jumble of come on baby, come on's left his mouth, followed by almost pitiful please's.

You came around his cock as the rain hit the roof, a flash of lightening appearing behind the curtains of your window.

"Simon—!" You gasped.

Your sounds, your smell, your everything was making Ghost go fucking insane. Your cunt squeezed him as you came, your arousal amplifying and slicking each of his desperate movements. His cock sunk in and out of you with wet faps as he barrelled towards his orgasm.

"Hah... hah... fuck— m'gonna— hngh fuck— w-where do you want me?"

He was still so deep inside you. How could you say anything else but; "Inside, please, Si."

"Ah, t-thank fuck—" Ghost muttered, making you smile up at the ceiling, eyes blinking slowly.

His whole body was burning up as his orgasm crashed over him. He thrusted once, twice, getting as deep as he could, as he came inside you. He moaned, stifling it in your neck, rutting himself against you as you were filled with rope after rope of warmth.

"Good boy, Si, so good..." You murmured as he fucked his cum into you, broad figure shuddering as he caught his breath, your fingers raking down his back.

"Fucking hell..." He whispered.

His movements stopped, and the both of you took a moment to catch your breaths. You were still pressed tight to one another, his cock stuffed inside you, barely beginning to soften.

You ran your hands down his back as he released your legs, allowing you to flop them against your bed as he settled on top of you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, nuzzling his nose along the curve of your shoulder and neck, nosing the junction of your jaw below your ear. He placed a kiss to the soft skin.

You both listened to the heavy rain loud against the roof.

"You alright?" You asked, running your fingers through his overgrown military-grade cut. I guess the mask meant he didn't have to get a haircut as often.

He hummed sleepily against you. "Yeah, love."

A beat passed, then; "You alright?"

You smiled. "I'm good. Really good."

He kissed the spot below your ear again. "Good."

Comfortable silence again. Ghost felt as though he was on cloud nine— curled up with you, satiated and happy, his cock still deep inside your cunt, which was now slowly overflowing with his cum, leaking onto the bed. He pressed his nose to the pulse-point near your ear. You smelled so good.

And to top it all off—

"I love you, Si."

He felt his heart explode.

He hugged you tighter. "I love you too."

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

would ghost ever do this "irl"? absolutely not. is this fictional and am i delusional? one hundred percent.

[yuorumi]

─ when annoyances turn to comprehension

dr. ratio's vexation in being friends with a fool in love.

note. gender neutral reader & inspired by @/genshinarchives. be warned that I have not yet caught up with the quest so they might be a little ooc but if it works it works. unedited.

dr. ratio's just about had it with you.

no, you weren't one of ailing students who couldn't comprehend his brilliant and meticulous lectures on things many couldn't decipher heads or tails of unless they've had his guidance. and even then, the amount of students who would reluctantly approach him after class is a number far greater than he'd like for there to be.

you were not a coworker either, getting on his last nerves just as he was about to retire for the night and soak up a long needed bath (aeon knows just how much he's depending on that just to make it through the next day) and asking him questions that make him ponder why they were even a teacher at all.

no, dr. ratio's never even met you.

however, from the stories he's heard about you from the insane gambler, he's had just about enough information to write an entire encyclopedia about every single detail in your life and over. things like your usual routine, what you like for breakfast, what snacks you pick up from the store and the adorable habits you seem to have when you're just sitting around breathing.

for once, the luminous genius finds himself cursing his ability to remember things down to the last detail and growing overly concerned over the fact his eyes might actually roll to the back of his head from doing it so many times. the number of migraines you induce on him when he doesn't even know what you look like is a figure he doesn't bother to keep count of anymore.

ratio swears that when he's in the presence of the blond there's a guarantee he's going to hear your name from his lips at least thrice. anything and everything can remind aventurine of you, apparently.

they could be talking about chalk or the most complicated mathematics to mankind and he'd still hear your name.

"... fools I tell you! I've given everything they need to solve such a simple problem and they still can't even begin to comprehend it! "

"speaking of problems, I wonder if [name]'s managed to find a way to get their computer fixed yet..." cue yet another eye roll.

by now he's sure that you and aventurine had to be dating, there's just no other explanation for his infatuation and his need to bring your presence everywhere with him. but when he found out that you two weren't, he was left momentarily stumped.

"tell me, should I go this shade of green or this purple? "

"I don't know why you're asking me such a question when you already have a lover to answer them for you."

"... we aren't dating, doctor."

"... what? "

ratio's never been more confused in his entire life than in that moment.

and when aventurine finally has the gal to introduce you to him, he finds that perhaps the information he has about you stored somewhere within in vast brain might come in handy after all.

[nadia-el-mansours]

So how many times do we think Sergei came up with some brilliant idea and claimed it was Margo's and NASA is working on it, so he better get funding pronto to match them? The KGB keep pressuring him to get more intel out of her, so he just starts inventing it.

Once a year he lets her take him to restaurants and talk to him about art, then he goes home like: You'll NEVER guess what NASA is doing //I'll never guess either, but I have an idea I know you'll never approve if you thought it was mine//

[daydreamingqueen1]

Sweets thief

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Warnings/Content: none. pure fluff, a wee bit of bullying to spence (totally harmless and friendly though), crushes, unhealthy amount of candy ingestion lol, no y/n, gn!reader too

Summary: You've been stealing sweets from your resident genius.

Word count: 1.2k

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆

It wasn't unusual for the BAU members to carry snacks with them.

The job was hard, stressful and, most importantly, it had unpredictable hours. So finding time to eat a proper meal wasn't always a viable option.

Nevertheless, eating is a basic human need and even if it's not completely healthy, the agents often found themselves battling their hunger with quick snacks.

As a relatively new member of the BAU, buying said vital snacks wasn't yet ingrained in your mind, resulting in you continually forgetting to buy something to munch on during cases.

Stealing was always an option though.

After several months with your coworkers, you are proud to say that you have managed to eat at the expense of all of their pockets, for experts in human behavior, they don't hide their treats so well.

However, after several months, you have come to know their go-to snacks and, subsequently, you have become picky.

Morgan eats some kind of high-protein bars with an awfully bright neon wrapper.

Emily loves those salt and vinegar chips every station has on their vending machines.

JJ, ever the healthy mom of the group, always has a few packages of oatmeal raisin cookies on hand.

Rossi carries eucalyptus and mint gummies like the old man he is.

And Hotch buys the most bland granola bars known to mankind.

With all of that said, the conclusion was obvious.

Spencer has the best snacks.

It is not only that he always has sweets but that he's the only one that manages for variety instead of a fixed thing. A bit ironic considering he is the most prone to sticking to a rigid routine. Well, you aren't complaining though, especially not this month.

You realized quickly that Halloween was a big thing for the resident genius, seeming to make the grown man regress to the mentality of an overly eager seven-year-old. It's lucky for you because that means that he chooses to try a new candy every single day of October.

It also means that you had begun stealing exclusively from him and, being surrounded by profilers, it wasn't long until you were discovered as the culprit.

A shadow had eclipsed your desk suddenly, making you look up to a squinting Dr. Reid. “Did you take my last Peanut Butter Cup?”

You shook your head, “No...”

Derek snorted on the desk nearby, “You've still got chocolate on your face, kid,”

Cleaning your mouth with the back of your hand, you smiled up at Spencer sweetly.

His converse sounded hard against the floor as he stumped away.

Apparently, you weren't that discreet. He ended up catching you many more times after that.

"Hey!" Spencer swatted your hand when you grabbed yet another handful of his M&Ms.

You shrugged, feigning innocence, “Hey to you too Reid, but we've been in the same room for a while.”

He huffed, inching the box slightly out of your reach.

Many more times.

Your hand was literally inside the familiar size bag of Starburst candy when Spencer came back from the bathroom.

“Oh come on!” he groaned, taking the bag out of your grasp, “Buy your own.”

You went back to the local police station office, giggling to yourself like a child with your hands full of candy.

At this point hunger had become a secondary motive to your stealing. The number one reason being how adorable Spencer's reactions were when he caught you.

In all honesty, you harbored a bit of a crush on the man. You didn't have the courage to tell him upfront, making your silly brain manifest your feelings like a preschooler pulling on the pigtails of their crush. Oh, but teasing him was so fun, and it got you free candy so it was even better.

Then, yesterday, there was an incident.

The team was on the jet, another kidnapped girl had been safely returned to her parents, fairly quickly this time too. Spirits were high at wrapping up a case with such a positive outcome, making most of the agents mingle and play games on the usually quiet ride home.

You were perched on one of the individual seats, scrolling away in your phone and absentmindedly eating some candy (you had bought your own for once).

You jolted a bit when a hand dived into your candy bag. When you looked up, you found a smirking Spencer standing right in front of you, looking fairly smug and popping a piece into his mouth. He thought he was finally getting back at you for eating all of his sweets.

His joy lasted for about three seconds before he realized his mistake.

See, to the untrained eye, he had just eaten a couple of innocent looking bear gummies. Except, these were not regular gummies, they were your favorite kind, the most sour kind.

Spencer's face scrunched up with disgust, the sour effect of the gummy doubled at taking him by surprise, the acidic taste completely taking over his taste buds.

You couldn't help it, you bent over your belly with laughter, inadvertently drawing attention to Spencer's predicament.

The whole team snickered as they watched him rush back and forth on the narrow hall of the jet until he got hold of a tissue to spit the offending candy.

“What the hell is that?” he turned around to confront you.

You gave him an apologetic smile, “Sour candy?”

More laughs filled the space and Spencer had sat down on the furthest chair from yours, pouting with his arms crossed over his chest.

Back to today, you feel actually kind of guilty about what happened. You have been munching on all of Spencer's treats for weeks and the one time he does it to you, the whole team ends up making fun of him. A bit of teasing was fine but you don't want the man to actually feel bad.

So when you see him stand up from his desk and walk into the kitchen, you quickly jump out of your chair and grab something from your bag, trailing right behind him through the bullpen.

He's making himself an exaggeratedly sweet cup of coffee when you corner him.

“Spencer,” you call, making him turn around. Your hands are inconspicuously behind your back, “Trick or treat?”

His eyebrows furrow suspiciously, “Neither if you're going to give me one of those monstrosities you like.”

You huff out a laugh, “No, no, I promise it's not that. Come on, trick or treat? ”

After measuring up how much he trusts your statement, he relents, “Treat.”

“Ta-dah!” you sing, revealing a single Hershey’s Kiss in your palm.

Spencer's eyes light up.

“I know it doesn't make up for everything I ate but it's an offer of peace.”

He gives you a small smile, “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

As his hand extends to grab the chocolate, your brain has an impulsive thought.

You lean forward and peck his lips.

It lasts barely a second but it's enough to make your heart beat wildly against your chest.

Spencer stares at you frozen in place, a crimson color spreading all over his face.

“A kiss for a kiss,” you mumble dumbly, like saying that makes it better somehow.

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid!’ You think to yourself, your feet are prepared to flee the scene when he unexpectedly grabs your wrist.

“I– I...” he stammers, his cheeks turning impossibly redder, “I wouldn't mind if you stole more of those.”

A shy smile spreads on your face. Perhaps you won't start buying your own snacks soon.

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it's a bit silly but I was feeling halloween-y and craving sour candy

leave me a prompt or idea you'd like me to write!

♡, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

hope ya liked it, byebye

My masterlist

[sparkleplatypuswriter]

We've reached the end of my Brazil fix-it fic. What might be left to fix, you may ask? Well, let's just say there's an appearance (ish) by the other most important person in Margo's life. 12:01 by sparkle_platypus Chapters: 5/5 Fandom: For All Mankind (TV 2019) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Margo Madison/Sergei Nikulov, Margo Madison & Aleida Rosales, Sergei Nikulov & Aleida Rosales Characters: Margo Madison, Sergei Nikulov, Aleida Rosales, Irina Morozova (mentioned), Emma Jorgens (mentioned), original character Additional Tags: season four divergent, fix-it fic, we're going to Brazil baby, literal journey, healing journey, slow burn, letting them have nice things for once, discussions and depictions of PTSD Summary: Margo and Sergei find their way towards Brazil and each other.

[dbzultimatehero]

:readmore:

[NSFW]

Amahara… the home realm where the Chimera Rose, Soren Amakusa resides alongside her family. A realm that existed in a dimension that was foreign to the one he was familiar with. This “he” in question being Hiro Alexanders, the Saiyan Hero of Earth and the secret, unsung protector of Mankind. Alongside the previously amalgamated halves of the Rosen Krone, Hiro vacated to their home realm with the help of Regina’s extradimensional technology. When he arrived however, the realms were being threatened. The Yami clan had invaded the peaceful land, terrorizing the realm in the absence of the vengeful rose and her familial comrades during their own struggle against the Usurpers. But when all hope seemed lost, Hiro, using his Super Saiyan powers and extraordinary unmatched fighting power, came to the aid the the Silverheart Twins, fending off the Yami with minimal effort and saving the lands.

Days that followed, Hiro would stay to help tend to the ravaged and ruined farms that were previously trampled, recovering most of the lost Chocobo and returning them back to their rightful home at the Silverheart’s residential farming grounds. From there, Hiro would lend a hand in restoring the once destroyed farm and bringing back hearth and comfort to the lands.

“Whew~ Alright! Almost done!” Hiro said, wiping sweat from his face, and taking a quick swig from his small canteen of water. For such a serene land, these parts were blazing hot. Thankfully, he had removed his shirt, although unveiling his severely scarred upper body. “Man… Leanne really does this kind of stuff everyday with just her brother? Man, for a couple of super-rich folk, those two sure know how to pull their weight…”

He said that, but his outwardly strength and speed, he had already harvested and inspected agriculture of the foreign land, watered and planted all of crops, groomed the adult Chocobo birds, nurtured their chicks with a rather embarrassing but cute nursery songs,and even fixed, stabilized, snd cleaned the stables and barns, having managed complete weeks worth of Leanne and Zephyr’s usual work labor in the span of only a couple of hours. “Sheesh… it hasn’t been a full day, and I’m already beat…!”