#i'm also up to do writing comms too

[magicalmanhattanproject]

man im just like. thinking about egg signs and how they've evolved over the course of the qsmp and how the qsmp has evolved over the course of the qsmp and just feeling so much love and affection for every part of the project. i dont have any grand overarching point with this just. like. here's a history of egg comms bc of the kind of person that i am

so wayyyy back ten months ago now at the start of the short and sweet egg event that was planned to last maybe a month at most, the eggs had their own custom, decorated signs!

[ID: Leo with a pink sign with an egg on the bottom corner that reads "hello" in all caps. Her nametag reads Leonardo. End ID]

They were extremely simple, single word signs. There was hello, hola, story, feed, sleep, and maybe one or two more and each was its own separate sign. The eggs could only communicate the most basic needs in words and everything else was through minecraft body language or just hoping their parents guessed right.

But obviously, there was a lot more that parents wanted to hear from their children. I'm not sure who was actually first, but the earliest departure from this system I know about is BadBoyHalo giving Dapper a simple oak sign so he could name his pet slime. (Screenshot from @/lxrd-ren)

[ID: Dapper wearing a diver's helmet standing next to a tiny slime in a boat with an oak sign reading "Bouncy (slmecicle but better)" End ID]

Parents quickly realized how much more convenient this was and pretty soon every single egg had stacks of signs to communicate with.

The next innovation came from Vegetta, who was the resident mod knower at the time. He knew about colored canvas signs and gave Leo signs in her favorite color purple because he loved her and gave her everything she wanted.

[ID: Leo's bed in her room under some Fooligetta fanart with a purple sign reading "<3" End ID]

Colored signs obviously had a lot of advantages. Being able to tell at a glance which egg placed which sign was a huge step forward in eggs being able to have long, complicated conversations as well as leaving obvious marks of their personality everywhere they went. It took a little while for them to be standard for every egg though. Bobby never stopped using oak signs even after Richas and Pomme both showed up with colored signs.

[ID: Two signs reading from right to left a red Pomme sign reading "we already started working on a guillotine factory" and a dark grey Dapper sign reading "thats the most french u have said so far pomme" End ID]

And this was the system for a while! And it worked pretty well for most people! The biggest struggle most people had was egg signs not being translated, but streamers adjusted to that by reading signs out loud so the translators would pick up on them. This also lead to adorable and fascinating dynamics like Richas swearing in signs he wrote for Bad and then warning Bad not to read them out. There was also the genuinely phenomenal development of Leolingo where Leo writes only in Spanish to Foolish because it's easier for her to write and he takes his time to puzzle his way through it and learn in a way that's super cool to watch someone else do onscreen.

Then Tubbo joined the server. And Tubbo himself had no problems at all with the system, but he is dyslexic and he casually mentioned offhand that it was getting kind of annoying to read signs after a ten hour long stream and the admin team Fucking Cooked.

Within 24 hours, they had TTS working on the signs. Within 48 hours, it was working on books too. I can't remember how long it took to get translation working, but it was definitely under a week.

And this opened up a whole new world of possibilities for the entire QSMP. The admin team has been on top of capitalizing on it for story purposes, but also just allowing the egg admins to speak in their native languages to everyone whenever they want has been so enriching for everyone involved. Leolingo is awesome but Foolish has been learning Spanish insanely fast and his process is a lot slower and more frustrating than most people can do in front of an audience of thousands of people without feeling discouraged. That's also one language. We've had everything from Foolish being able to check his work a bit more faster to Phil insisting on his eggs taking a day to speak to him in their native languages to Ramón writing a book for Fit in Cantonese, a language we haven't even seen on the server in any other context!

And all of it is fully understood and fully communicated! Sometimes the translators mess up but no one expects them to be perfect and people ask for clarification if the translator says something that doesn't sound right. It's not only a massive step forward in communication technology, but it's a great demonstration of how to use it and when you can and can't rely on it.

And finally, the most recent innovation! One of BBH's viewers sent him a dono saying they had trouble reading certain signs because they were too low-contrast. Bad, Richas, and Pomme just. Took it upon themselves to fix the problem right there and then. Based on One (1) bringing up their own personal struggle, those three came up with new signs that innovate tremendously on the originals.

[ID: Two separate images of the before and after. The first is the egg signs in their original colors with the corresponding egg's name written on them to demonstrate the font color and the second is in the new, higher contrast colors with the same text. The new signs also have custom decorations for each egg. The second picture also has two signs from Pomme in all caps that read "Send all the love to Richas he spent a whole night making this he's the best <3" End ID]

There are three main innovations visible in the above pictures

1: Obviously, the colors are higher contrast. The signs with white text have darker colors and the signs with black text have lighter colors.

2: The colors themselves are lower saturation. Richas said this made it easier for him personally to read them so he corrected that way, but that's open to change if it causes difficulties for more people than it helps

3: The decorations are for accessibility reasons! People with various different forms of colorblindness will find different sets of colors easier or harder to distinguish, but any of them can look at the decorations and use them to identify whose sign is whose instead.

But! Those innovations are not why I made this post! It's these ones!

[ID: The backs of the new signs when placed on the ground. Most visible are Chayanne's with vines and a hardcore heart, Sunny's with shining sunglasses, and Pomme's with an apple and the Eiffel Tower. End ID]

Richas added distinguishing marks to the backs of the signs too! This is something that Bad brought up specifically as something he wanted because it was hard for him to tell who was talking when he was using TTS from behind signs and couldn't see the colors at all.

We went from custom egg signs (a hotbar or so of words and nothing else to communicate with) through a long journey of expanding communication and expanding who we're bringing along on the communication and how easily they can join in and we've circled all the way back around to custom egg signs (they can say anything they want in any language they want and anyone will know it's them saying it from any angle)

and i guess i have enough feelings abotu that to write All This about it

[roosterr]

white flag ✹ proglogue

note: can't believe i'm actually writing for ghost, yes he was the reason i got into cod, but i havent thought about him since like january lol. has this trope already been done? yes. am i doing it anyway? also yes.

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 2.2k

no use of y/n readers callsign is 'stingray'

summary: if there's one constant in your life, it's that ghost doesn't like you, so when your house burns down and you have no choice but to move in with him, it feels like your life is on a steady downhill spiral.

warnings: slowburn, some angst, your house burns down, ghost is mean, sort of enemies to friends to lovers

ao3

【next】

it's been almost a year since you'd joined the taskforce. nearly twelve months of gruelling hard work, and not for a single second had lieutenant ghost treated you with a shred of familiarity. at first, you thought he'd get over it, that he'd get past his obvious trust issues and warm up to you eventually, but you quickly gave up on that idea.

clearly, you'd been too optimistic.

which was unfortunate, considering how much you'd come to care for the prickly bastard, no matter how dismissive he was of you. it started slow; when you were first recruited, you held a great deal of respect for him because of his reputation, and you'd naively even looked forward to working with him. when you discovered his less than friendly demeanour, to say you were disheartened would be an understatement. he was withdrawn and stoic, never sparing you so much as a passing glance and a barked order,  whether you were in the field or not.

the other sergeants had assured you that he wasn't as cold as he comes across; soap and gaz both told you how he'd acted the same towards them when they first met – he was a lone wolf, not used to having to look out for teammates.

the more time you spent on missions with him, the more you saw of the person beneath the hard exterior. you saw how he seemed to know everyone's strengths and weaknesses, things you never would've picked up on. he always made sure the team had eaten, disguised as a gruff order to stay on your game. when he got angry, it would be because someone put themselves in danger, not because they screwed up the mission. you saw someone who'd been through hell and come out the other side swinging.

before, you'd respected ghost as a soldier and your superior, but now, after spending so much time with him, your perspective of him has changed. he intrigued you; he's quiet, introverted but not shy, more observant than you could imagine, and so closely guarded you wondered if he'd ever be able to open up. you'd only heard whispers of the things he'd been through in the past, so despite his obvious animosity towards you, you treated him with the respect you thought he deserved – like a person, and you'd hoped that with time, he could see you as more than just a soldier too. though he still didn't like you, you liked to think that the two of you have come to some sort of understanding.

and that leads you to your problem; you wanted to know him. every tiny crack in his facade made you more and more curious about the man behind the mask – about simon, rather than ghost, but from what you could tell, he didn't hold the same sentiment about you. where he would banter back and forth with the others over comms, he'd fall silent whenever you join in. every minute little mistake was amplified to him, you've lost count of the amount of times he's berated you for things he's excused for others. it made your heart ache that you just couldn't win with him, and you feared you'd never understand why.

but now, as you sit shivering with a shock blanket wrapped around your shoulders, watching the smouldering remains of what was your home in the middle of the night, freezing and exhausted, you'd never felt more hated.

you could hear them, ghost and the captain, talking in hushed voices a little ways down the road from where you sit. they probably think they're being subtle, discussing what to do with you like you're not even there, like every single one of your worldly possessions hadn't just gone up in smoke, but you hear them as if they're standing right in front of you.

"i wouldn't do this if there were any other options, simon."

"there are plenty of other options, just stick 'em in a hotel for god's sake."

"there's no hotels close enough to base – it'll only be temporary, 'till we can find 'em somewhere else."

"fuckin' hell, why cant they go with one of the others?"

"soap and gaz are already flatmates, you live alone and you're the closest to base. this is the only option that makes sense."

"i'm not fuckin' happy about this, price."

their profiles are momentarily illuminated by the blue lights from the fire engine parked nearby, allowing you for a second to see the withering glare ghost is sending your way, and all of a sudden the last couple hours of emotional distress is crashing down on you; his obvious distaste for you combined with the toll of watching your house literally burning down was too much for you all at once. you could feel the tears start to spill over again, but you can’t find the strength to stop them and just bring the shock blanket closer to your face. you’d lost everything, and even now he couldn’t find it in himself to feel an ounce of compassion for you? why can’t he care for you like he does the others? like you do for him?

as your watery gaze drops to the soot and ash covering your pyjamas, a voice sounds from beside you, the opposite direction from price and ghost. you don’t even realise you’re hyperventilating until they lay a hand on your shoulder and rub soothing circles into your back.

“hey– hey, it’s okay,” it’s gaz, you notice in the back of your mind, sitting on the curb next to you. you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to block out the world around you, and gaz brings you closer into his embrace. “you’ll be alright, we’ll get everything sorted, yeah?”

"i– i don't– i can't–" you try to speak, but you can't seem to form a coherent sentence through your sobbing.

"it's alright, just breathe for me." gaz hugs you tighter again, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as he consoles you. for a few minutes you stay like that, your breathing eventuslly returning to normal and the tears slowing to a stop.

price and ghost are still arguing, but you can't hear what they're saying anymore; probably for the best, if you had to listen to ghost complain about you for one more second you might really have a breakdown.

soap's voice cuts through the fog in your mind, "managed to find this, thought ya' might want it." you look up to find him crouching in front of you and holding out a slightly singed photo, a weak smile on his face. "frame's broken, but the picture's still mostly fine."

you take it from him, fingers grasping the card gently as you turn it around to look at the picture. it's from a few years ago, you and your friends from your previous unit, smiling into the camera as if you had no worries at all. staring at the ghosts of your friends starts you crying again, clutching the photo to your chest and leaning back into gaz's shoulder. if anything could've survived the blaze, you're grateful it was this. gaz rubs your arm sofly, whispering comforting words to you again.

you hear another set of footsteps approach and look up again to see price now standing in front of you as well. it's not exactly surprising, but ghost is nowhere to be seen.

"ambulance is here," price says, offering you a hand and pulling you to your feet when you take it. "i'll follow behind to the hospital, one of you two take their car to simon's."

you nod and retrieve your car keys from your jacket pocket, thankful you'd had the mind to grab it on your way out in your frantic state.

"I've got a bag in the boot, it's got some clothes in it." you mutter, handing the keys to soap, who smiles and gives you a pat on the shoulder.

"no bother, i'll grab it for ya." he says, and jogs off to where your car was parked, thankfully untouched out of reach of the fire. he returns not a minute layer carrying your duffle of emergency supplies, something you never thought would actually come in handy.

before you know it you're waving gaz and soap goodbye, the paramedics are guiding you to the back of the ambulance, and you're leaving what remains of your old home in the rear-view mirror.

✹✹✹

you hated hospitals. it was a fact, and it had been that way since you were a child, everything about them just made your skin crawl. perhaps you inherited the feeling from your mother; she always managed to bring up her distaste for the place whenever the topic arose. or, maybe you only hated them because they scared you.

either way, the relief you felt as you stepped out of the front door into the car park with price trailing behind you was palpable. he falls into step next to you as the two of you make your way over to where he parked, his keys jingling as he fishes them from his pocket.

"we're puttin' you up with simon for the time being, 'till we can get you somewhere else." his words make you wince; you already knew he was going to say that, but it didn't stop the anxiety from bubbling up in your chest.

"i heard." a beat of silence passes before you continue. "how long will that take?" you ask, climbing into the passenger seat and dropping your bag at your feet as price settles into the driver's side.

"i wouldn't get your hopes up. might be quicker to wait for 'em to rebuild your old place." he flashes you a smile, but you can't find it in yourself to return the gesture.

"right."

neither of you say another word as he starts the engine and pulls out of the car park. you turn to look out the window, watching the world go by, the quiet rambling of the radio serving as white noise in the background. it's the early hours of the morning now, the sun would be up in a few hours and you'd have to go back to work already – price did say you could have the day off, but honestly the last thing you wanted was to sit around all day with nothing to do but overthink.

after nearly ten minutes of trying to ignore it, the worry playing at your mind becomes too much to keep to yourself.

"you know he hates me, right?" you utter, half expecting price to ignore your question all together.

he clicks his tongue. "he doesn't hate you," price replies, and his voice sounds reassuring but it doesn't bring you much comfort.

"okay, well, he doesn't like me either." you turn your head to look at him, raising your brows. rolling to a stop at a red light, he meets your eyes and huffs.

"alright, he can be difficult–"

"really?"

"–but i promise you, he doesn't hate you." he says. you give him a disbelieving look, and he sighs, looking back to the road as the light turns green. "give him a chance, alright?"

"is he gonna give me a chance?" 

"he will." price says firmly, sparing you a look as he drives down the quiet road. "and if he doesn't, you'll knock some sense into him, eh?"

"sure…" you mutter, looking back out the window and falling back into silence. its only a few minutes until he's pulling over to the side of the road, outside the house number you know to be ghost's.

"sting," price calls out, stopping you as you reach for the door handle, "he'll come around, alright?"

"it's been a year, cap. i don't think he will." you reply, and before he can say anything else you open the door and step out into the night air, grabbing your bag from your feet before closing the door again. you give price a half-hearted wave as he pulls away again, before turning around and gazing up at your – temporary – new home.

it was nice, all things considered; a standard terrace on the end of the row, but the size has you wondering if there was even room for you to stay here. though it's not as if you have a choice. all the lights were off, which had you hopeful that you wouldn't run into ghost just yet.

you drag yourself to the front door, your eyes stinging from the effort of keeping them open, and twist the handle as quietly as possible, closing it behind you and cringing at the clunk it makes. thankfully ghost didn't hate you enough to lock you out for the night, something you actually wouldn't put past him considering how he feels about you.

there's a small side table in the entryway that catches your attention. on top of it sits your car keys – you make a mental note to thank soap in the morning – a new key, and a note. you pick up the paper, using the torch from your phone to examine the scratchy handwriting.

living room's yours. lock the door. – s

it's more than you expected from him. you sigh to yourself and pick up the other key, locking the door and shuffling into the small living room. the pull-out bed is made up for you, albeit quite messily, and you waste no time in dropping your stuff and laying your head down on the lumpy pillow.

with any luck, this arrangement wouldn't last long, but in the meantime you got the feeling you were in for a bumpy ride.

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Having To Patch Soshiro Up After A Kaiju Attack

Soshiro Hoshina X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Blood, injuries, mentions of death, teasing, and kaiju remains

Word Count: 1k

(A/N:) I am enjoying the Kaiju No. 8 anime immensely and it's giving me all sorts of ideas to write! I have several more Kafka ones in my drafts and I want to write more for several other of the male characters. So keep an eye out I may write your favorite dude! I'm also thinking about opening my requests back up in case anyone has any Kaiju No. 8 requests, even though my drafts are insanely full. We'll just see but until next time happy reading! ~Countess

The suits made by Izumo Tech were a marvel of innovation and technology. Designed to give the members of Japan's fiercest warriors; The Defense Force, a fighting chance against the Kaiju that plagued their country. But still the warriors were only human no matter how amazing the suit.

Your booted feet thundered against the broken asphalt, breath heaving in pants as you raced across the now quiet battlefield. Just seconds ago it was Hell on Earth as you and your fellow soldiers fought for your very lives. But now Kaiju matter was splattered against everything. It was going to be quite the mess for whatever cleaning crew was open to do the dirty job. The attacks had become more frequent here lately, that the few companies that specialized in Kaiju clean up were becoming overwhelmed to get the different attack sights back to some semblance of normalcy for the citizens. But even that problem was far back from your mind. Only one person had you running so hard after fighting so intensely. Soshiro had gone silent after dispatching some of the smaller ones with his blades. You knew he had sustained injuries, but for him to go quiet, it wasn't a good sign. There was closer Third Division officers nearby but you knew with whatever stamina you had left you could make it. Your worries taking over any rational thought in your mind.

Konomi echoed in your ear, leading you straight towards Soshiro's location. Her frantic directions wasn't doing much to calm your nerves, but as an officer you couldn't let your anxiety show.

"Just around this corner," Konomi said. You thanked her turning down your communication device as you skidded around a pile of rubble. There leaned up against what remained of a wall was Soshiro. He held his side, eyes closed, and protective mask discarded at his side. Though winded and exhausted from the long race here, you gripped your rifle tighter the sling hitting your neck and tangling in the wild strands of hair that had broken free. Blood coated Soshiro's face and the fact that he wasn't responding to footsteps coming closer was more than concerning. Fear was beginning to grip your heart, when you finally got at his side.

"Two cracked ribs and significant blood loss," Konomi's sudden voice through the comm caused you to jump. "He's not critical just yet but I do have the medics on route to your location."

"I can staunch the blood flow," you replied. "I'll try to get him conscious again too."

"Good idea. I'll keep monitoring his vitals and let you know if anything changes."

"Copy."

Unslinging the rifle from your neck, you set it close by in case any threats remained. You removed the small med pack from your belt and got to work. Tapping at his cheek, you started working on getting Soshiro awake. Several moments went by and it wasn't until you put pressure on one of his worse wounds did he finally groan.

"Vice Captain," you continued to pat his cheek. "Vice Captain Hoshina! Soshiro wake up!"

He stirred, bleary eyes blinking against the bright sunlight before his gaze finally found you.

"Welcome back to the land of the living sir," you sighed in relief.

"So I died," he groaned. "And here I thought I was immortal."

"Well you didn't die but you do have a long road to recovery. You're pretty banged up and look terrible. The Kaiju Captain blew to smithereens looks better than you."

"Officer (L/N)," Soshiro groaned more as you wrapped several wounds tightly in gauze, "did anyone ever tell you that your bedside manner is garbage?"

"We're out on the battlefield and you're not laying on a bed sir," you grinned before going back to placing pressure on a wound that was too large for bandages. "Beside manners don't exist out here."

"Fieldside manner then," he glared. "And if you press any tighter to my side you're going to stab my lungs with my ribs."

"That's not me. That would be your suit keeping you from jostling your cracked ribs."

"(Y/N)! Vice-Captain Hoshina's vitals seem to be stabilizing more. Medics are inbound and will be there shortly," Konomi updated you and you acknowledged her.

"You had me worried Soshiro," you sniffed, hands stained with his blood. You had turned your comm off so you could talk with him in private for just a moment. You both didn't have long anyway with the evac team so close by.

"Sorry," he grimaced. Righting himself up more he wrapped one arm around your neck and pulled you in tight. "I'm sorry I worried you so much. I take risks but this time my decision wasn't the right one."

You held him as best as you could without hurting him further, "I'm just so glad you're okay!"

You hated crying but the relief you felt, had you breaking down in seconds. Soshiro wasn't used to seeing you cry and it broke his heart. Always the strong soldier, you couldn't help yourself around him as you wanted him by your side forever.

"You're not hurt are you," Soshiro asked as he stroked the back of your hair.

"No." You breathed deep, calming yourself and wiped your eyes. "Does that mean that I have surpassed the great Soshiro Hoshina in skills?"

"Absolutely not. We both know that my blade skills leave everyone else in the dust," he scoffed.

"Yeah but I didn't decide to use my ribs to stop a kaiju punch."

"Shut up."

You laughed kissing his forehead quickly, as it was the only place not covered in blood, as the boots of the medics came closer.

"I'm glad you're okay," you whispered. Soshiro couldn't answer as he was suddenly surrounded by several medical officers. He nodded towards you as you picked your rifle back up and started to go join the other members of the Third Division. The battle wasn't over just yet as you needed to look for more survivors. But you felt the burden lift from your shoulders knowing that the man you loved was going to be okay and was in capable hands. The fight with the kaiju continued on but if you stayed by Hoshiro's side you felt like you both could make the world a better place together.

[amorfista]

"Beach lookout's nap"

The Dad Batch (and Omega) deserve a day of blissful relaxation, I don't think there's anyone out there who wouldn't agree!

While Tech is taking the best nap of his life [Part 1], Omega and Wrecker joined efforts to make the coolest sand-Tipoca city [Part 2] there is out there!

Echo and Hunter might have gotten concerned about the ruckus [Part 3] that these two started to cause...

Crosshair, on the other hand...?

He couldn't give a flying kark.

...or least that's what it would seem like.

Even through a slit of sight, nothing escapes the skillful sniper's eyes. Watching his brothers (and sister) from the distance, he peacefully swings on his hammock, a couple of meters above the ground and (hopefully) far away enough from the mischief that is, apparently, stirring among his siblings.

This state of bliss comes to a halt however, when the crackle of a comm breaks through the sounds of nature.

“Omega to Crosshair, come in Crosshair!”

.

.

.

"For the love of the Maker", he thinks to himself.

Admitting his defeat, Crosshair opened his eyes fully and stared at the palm leaves above, casually spotting a palm weevil crawling over them within a split second.

He took a deep breath as he pressed the button of his own commlink, making sure to drag his words to let Omega know of his displeasure as he spoke:

"What do you want?"

TO BE CONTINUED!!!

Alright, alright, alright.

I know I said that I'd post a version with 1-2 tats and then the full body, but I just could NOT choose which tat to leave on😭 so now you get the zero tats as the "HC" version, and...

DON'T BE SHY, ZOOM THE HECK IN!

(also i know that he shouldn't have an ice vulture in this hc where he never left the batch so he never met Mayday, whoops)(SORRY FOR THE HUGE POST TOO)

This was so. Much. Fun. Not all the tats have a HUGE, INTRINCATE meaning but, honestly? I'm just SO HAPPY with the result.

Some of the tats are very pretty so, I thought I'd clean them up and show you guys! Might even make stickers in the future!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

@arcsimper5 THANK YOU SOOO MUCH for the hammock idea, plus the wonderful story that you've written around my drawings!! You're a sweetheart!!♥♥♥

@grinningnexu THANK YOU! for the thousand amazing tattoo ideas!

@nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius THANK YOU TOO! for the ice vulture idea; I'll make a sketch for his back tomorrow!! ♥

@wwheeljack @freesia-writes the no-tat version is the og now XD

I'm very, very happy about the drawing. The colors and background were super fun to make. The perspective might be wonky but I don't mind, I'll get better at it eventually xD

I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT AND AS PER USUAL, THANK YOU SOOO MUCH FOR THE FEEDBACK AND LOVE!!! 💗💗💗

Taglist: (PM or @ to join!)

@dukeoftheblackstar @justalittletomato @darthmaulshispanichousewife @botherbother-blog @aftergloom @badolmen @ihaventpickedausername @ohboi @stardustbee @nik-barinova @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @gen-has-green-vibes @ejfivercommander @herbalinz-of-yesteryear @eyecandyeoz @noesqape @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @staycalmandhugaclone @callmesunny04 @ginnymilling @sunshinesdaydream @blueink-bluesoul @cloneloverrrrr @moon-wrecked @idontgetanysleep @tech-aficionado @followthepurrgil @renton6echo @queen-jiru @shoe-bag @eyayah123 @eloquentmoon @and-loth-cat @ladyzirkonia @stardusthuntress @bambambunny

[talkfastwalkfaster]

Moonglade ~ AOTC!Anakin Skywalker

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊

A/N: this took me way too long to write & i'm not completely happy with how the beginning turned out but. also, this quickly became a purely self-indulgent fic, especially during the end portion. but i hope u guys enjoy this as much as i ended up doing ♡ WC: 2,035 Warnings: fluff, making out

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊

You glanced around the temple halls — despite knowing that the chances of you two getting caught after hours were slim, you still wanted to be careful. “Are you sure we should be doing this out in the open? Anyone could walk past and see us, Ani,” you whispered, wondering why you agreed to meet him behind a column instead of in one of your quarters.

Anakin chuckled softly before leaning in and kissing you. “You worry too much, angel. What’s the point of sneaking out if there’s no excitement to it? We’re not even truly doing anything. Besides, I missed you.”

Your heart fluttered at the sentiment. Since the war started, you hadn’t seen much of each other lately — with Anakin co-commanding the 212th with his master and you the 104th with yours. You supposed that he was right. The two of you had done worse when sneaking out — from taking a speeder and exploring Coruscant to hiding on top of the temple, this seemed insignificant compared to them.

You smiled and unconsciously leaned closer to him, wanting nothing more than to be intertwined with him so you would never have to be apart again. “I missed you too. I’m sorry for missing your comm yesterday. Master Koon was very insistent on having no distractions during training.”

Anakin had returned from a mission yesterday and craved to see you again after being apart for the better of two weeks. Despite having possessed this longing, he waved off your apology, knowing that he only commed to inform you that he was back, nothing too important. “It’s alright, I understand. We all get busy.”

You shook your head, feeling guilty that you weren’t able to welcome him back as soon as you would have liked. “Still, I should’ve at least sent a message, even if it was a small one.”

Anakin gave a soft shrug, his blue eyes glanced over to you before looking up at the murals — he didn't really mind that you hadn't messaged him, though he found it sweet that you felt bad about not being able to do so. He let out a soft laugh as his eyes wandered back to you. “You really gotta cut yourself some slack, angel. You're always getting stressed over the little stuff," He said softly, his hands slipping from his robe’s pockets to rest on his hips.

While it may not seem like a major thing to anyone else, it was important to you. You took your relationships very seriously, always ensuring that you were not purposely ignoring someone and always attempting to ensure everything went smoothly. You supposed that was why you were a Consular —  you consistently made sure that issues were arbitrated and were more than ready to be the mediator if needed. 

You scrunched your nose, not liking how dismissive he was. You knew that if the roles were reversed, he would be doing the same thing you were attempting. “I’m trying to apologize here,” you argued adamantly, wanting him to understand this was meaningful to you, despite him waving it off as nothing.

Anakin understood why you were being pushy about this, he knew you didn’t enjoy avoiding people, regardless of it being your intent or not. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected you to answer in the first place — he understood that your life was getting hectic now, especially with your trials coming up soon.

 He snickered softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Oh, that was an apology?" He said with a grin as he nudged you playfully. He couldn't resist teasing you, having already forgiven you before you even attempted to make amends with him — despite there not being a reason for you to apologize. 

You nodded, unwilling to give in. “Mhm, I apologized, and now you’re supposed to accept it and forgive me. That’s how this works.”

His eyebrows raised slightly as he shook his head — you could be the most difficult person sometimes. He couldn’t complain about it though, it was one of the qualities he loved most about you and something that drove him to you. “Is that how it's supposed to work? Because it sounds like you're being a bit pushy." He taunted.

You crossed your arms and leaned back on the pillar, investing in the banter. “I’m not being pushy; you’re just not cooperating.” You weren’t truly attempting to force your apology down his throat — you knew there was no need. But you did enjoy this type of conversation with Anakin; it allowed you to detach from the turbulence that was becoming extremely common in your life.

Anakin gave a low chuckle as he looked down at you. “Has anyone ever told you how stubborn you are," He teased, leaning closer to you while his mouth curved into a playful smile.

You shrugged, “Once or twice.”

You both knew that you were the most determined person he had ever met, and he adored you for it. Anakin laughed softly before lowering his voice and leaning even closer to you, his sapphire eyes shining in the darkness.

“Let me rephrase that —  do you realize how insanely stubborn you are?"

You scrunched your nose and attempted to hide your growing smile, “So I’ve been told.”

Anakin chuckled, leaning his forehead against yours as he spoke softly, “Mhm, you're a stubborn girl who doesn't easily yield."

You smiled tenderly, loving the closeness between the two of you. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

Anakin's cheeks heated at the proximity, glancing down at you with those twinkling blue eyes that made you want to dive in and be engulfed in him forever. “I actually think it’s quite an endearing trait.” His voice was soft as he spoke in a whisper, as though he was telling you his greatest secret.

You tilted your head up to look into his eyes — you knew you would never be tired of looking into them — they were one of your favorite features of his. They were like a siren’s call, pulling you in until you could no longer have any thoughts that didn’t involve Anakin. Before you got too lost in his eyes you quickly remembered he had spoken to you and murmured back, “Is that so?”

Anakin nodded softly as he smiled at you — his heart raced at your admiring gaze, and he couldn’t help the soft blush that spread across his cheeks. “Oh, most definitely.” His voice was low and gentle as he lowered his head a little closer so that his nose was hovering just above yours.

You leaned up and kissed him tenderly, a reflection of the love you hold for him. His breath hitched at the sudden but pleasant contact of your lips. One of his arms wrapped around your waist while the other found its way to the back of your head as he gently pulled you closer, his lips pressing firmly against yours.

The feeling of your body pressed against his made his heart rate skyrocket as he kissed you back with equal passion and fervor.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. You wanted to be encased in his hold forever — to simply be with him and never have to worry about anything else. The soft proclamations of love that came from both of your lips said everything the kiss did not: how much you ached for each other while he was gone, the unspoken promise of spending as much time as you could before one of you was shipped off onto another mission.

Anakin panted lightly as he pulled away from you — his need for air overcoming the urge to kiss you for all eternity. He slowly brought the hand that was behind your head to cup your cheek, softly caressing your skin with his thumb and looking at you as if you hung the stars. His eyes roamed your face taking in every freckle and scar, wanting to burn you into his memory in hopes that you would haunt his dreams when he was unable to see you physically. 

He dipped his head to quickly kiss you again before gently murmuring, “Let’s get married.” He had fantasized about this for ages now — never having enough courage to reveal his deepest desire to you, but now seemed like a better time than any. 

“What?” You whispered incredulously, not quite believing the words that came out of his mouth.

Anakin laughed softly and lowered his voice, “You heard me. We should get married.”

You moved your hands to his shoulders, lightly gripping them, “Is this your way of proposing to me?”

His eyes twinkled with amusement, his gaze never breaking yours. “Maybe,” His voice was soft and soothing as he lowered his head once more to briefly press his lips against yours. “Yes.”

You thought about it for a moment — secretly dating is one thing, but getting married would mean you were fully going against the Code, something you could never come back from. However, a part of you rationalized that you had already done that, and if you had already broken it, what was the harm in going one step further?

“Okay, let’s get married,” Your face broke out into a grin and you giggled softly, not quite believing this was truly happening, but you wouldn’t oppose it if it meant you were wholly committing to your love for Anakin.

Anakin felt as though his heart would burst out of his chest as a smile spread across his face and his eyes lit up with excitement. His mind was quickly filled with thoughts of being tied to you forever, of never having to worry about losing you to someone else. He couldn’t contain himself and brought his other hand to your face to cup both of your cheeks while he smothered you with kisses all over your face. 

His voice was soft as he pulled back slightly, “You’re completely okay with this?” Despite your agreement, he wanted to ask again to ensure you were completely on board with the idea. He knew you wouldn’t lie to him or say yes just to make him happy, but he wanted to be reassured that you were committed to going through with this.

You nodded and brought your hands up to cover his, unable to contain your smile. “I’m sure. I want to be with you, Ani, forever.”

Anakin laced his fingers with yours and squeezed them gently; a warm, fuzzy feeling spread throughout his body — he was overjoyed with your answer. It was difficult for him to believe how he got so lucky with you; he liked everything about you — your smile, the way you spoke, the way you carried yourself… You were simply perfect in his eyes and he was grateful that you were willing to spend the rest of your life with him.

The thought immediately made his heart sing — he was going to marry you; he would have you all to himself and soon be able to call you ‘his wife.’ “I love you, angel,” He spoke softly, his voice full of love and joy. He buried his face into the crook of your neck and gently kissed where it met your shoulder. 

His actions made your heart melt — you cherished every moment with him. You kissed the side of his head and lifted a hand to cup the back of it while you murmured, “I love you too, Ani.”

A small, content sigh escaped his lips and he squeezed you tighter against him, enjoying your soft, comforting embrace. 

You ran a hand through his hair and whispered, “We should head back to one of our quarters before we’re out here too long.”

Anakin hummed softly in response before lifting his head from your neck and giving you one last kiss. He took your hand and interlaced his fingers with yours as he started to lead you out of the temple’s halls and toward his room. 

You leaned against him and lightly squeezed his hand as he guided you. The walk to his room was filled with silent bliss, and you knew that despite the chaos happening throughout the galaxy, you would always be able to rely on Anakin. 

[augustinapril]

Heyyy Spence

So I saw that you wanted some batfam requests (especially platonic ones) so I was wondering if I could ask for a batfam (you pick whatever characters you want to be added) x bat!sibling reader who’s getting a special award but doesn’t tell anyone about it? Not bc they don’t think the family will care, they just think that the rest of them are busy and don’t want to bother them. They somehow find out though and are all there so surprise the reader?

If not- that’s totally fine too!!

Take care <333

Spider || Batfam

Paring: Batfam & gn!reader

Sypnosis: You're Brooklyns resident Spider, or The Insect, as Heaven likes to call you. It's a job you've taken with honor, and you're being thanked for it by the city. What you didn't expect was to see your family in the crowd.

Warnings: kind of a spiderman x dc crossover? r is basically the spiderman of DC, talks of heights, violence and terribly written fight scenes, reader is threatened by a villian, swearing, mentions of food, its poorly written I'm sorry!!

wc: 3.2k || nav || m.list

a/n: shout out to @lu-vin-it for being a character in this fic! he also happens to write so you should definitely go check out their stuff (that's a threat not a request). thank you @lemkay-luminary for proofreading!! <3 reblogs > likes!!

˗ˏˋ ★ ´ˎ˗

Gotham City was constantly buzzing with life, along with death. It was a violent city, full of murderers, thieves, robbers, and villians drowning in a thirst for blood. More times than you could count, the city has stolen the life of people you've cared for. 

It held too many bad memories for you to stay. You loved the city, and it would always be your home, but you had a new home in Brooklyn, too.

Brooklyn gave you a breath of fresh air, here you could see the sun most days. It was calming, the warmth of it a comfort. You love it here and the people here love you in return.

"Spider!" A little girl from down below shouted, strawberry ice cream smeared across her face as she pointed up at you. "It's Spider!"

Her father gave her a light lecture on how it was rude to point when you attached yourself to the side of a building, offering the little girl a wave. She waved back, squealing in excitement at the fact that the Spider was waving at her. 

"Y/n, you know those guys we've been tracking for God knows how long?" Heaven's voice spoke through the comms, startling you.

"I don't, actually, I think they've managed to slip my mind." You retorted sarcastically as you jumped off and swung your way to a nearby rooftop.

"You were bitten by an insect, I can treat you like an insect." 

"Spiders aren't insects, they're—"

There was an annoyed huff that cut you off, it made you snicker. "Fuck you. I should make you do all this by yourself, but I don't. Be grateful. Anyways, so I've gotten a location on them, Visage is most definitely there."

"Where?" You asked quickly. Visage has been tormenting the city for a while now.

"Near Plymouth Church. They've been spotted in some run down building near it." 

"Thank you." You responded and the comms cut out.

That's when you jumped, arms behind you, the breeze pushed against your suit. It was exhilarating to fly through the air, being so high above everything else. 

Helping people in the way you do, swinging through the city and hearing people like that little girl call out to you was worth every risk the job came with. You'd put yourself on the line every time because you're here to protect them. 

Which brought you here, on top of some building across from an abandoned grocery store. Your eyes were glued to the doors, as you watched and waited for something to happen.

A man walked out, wearing protective green gear. It was Visage, you knew it was. There was no mistaking him and his rather ugly suit. 

"Visage, my man, what's up?" You jumped over to the power line nearby, standing on top of the wooden pole. His head snapped up to you, and the second it did, you webbed him. Jumping up you yanked him up with you. You grabbed ahold of his head and slammed it onto the pole. There was a crack in his helmet, him falling to the ground and letting out a pained groan.

"Fuck," You heard him hiss under his breath, struggling to pull himself off the ground. You didn't give him much of a chance before you leapt down in front of him, landing before swiping him off his feet.

"I'm gonna kill you," He raised his gauntleted hand and he fired at you from his spot on the ground.

It was one of his weird creations, Vistech as he liked to call it. It made you realize that villians are extremely uncreative when it comes to naming things.

"'I'm gonna kill you' blah blah blah, I've heard it all before. Your words mean nothing." You retorted, moving out of the way of whatever it was he shot at you. He had a nasty habit of creating new concoctions and testing them on you.

You were sure you probably seemed cocky, and the way he tensed made it evident he wasn't very appreciative of your attitude. "You're really annoying, you know that?"

After that he charged at you, gear adding power to his steps. Your senses spiked, making you leap out of his way. His gauntlet grabbed hold of your arm, as he throwed you towards a nearby wall. 

The impact knocked the wind out of your lungs, falling to the ground with a wheeze. You could hear his heavy boots hit the ground with each step he took towards you. You pushed yourself off the ground, then you lifted your hand and shot webbing at his face. His cries were muffled by the substance, his hand scratched to try and get the webs off. 

You fully pushed yourself off of the ground, wincing in pain. Much to your dismay, the second you were on your feet Visage had pulled off the webs. He ran towards you again and you were lucky to move out of the way on time.

You put your hand behind his head and slammed it full force into the wall, knocking him unconscious. You crouched down, inspecting Visage's guantlet, lifting the heavy metal. It was warm to the touch, most likely because of the weird substance in them.

You looked them over, searching for a way to remove them . It was more sophisticated than you originally thought, but you found it eventually. 

You knew Visage wasn't the highest of rank in whatever business he worked for, but he was high enough on there for you to get some information on the entire organization. 

You tied him up with your webbing, and when you heard police sirens you leapt up to the rooftop of the nearest building, Visage's guantlet in hand.

***

The fight had been all over the news.

Some people praised you for your efforts whilst others said you were nothing but a menace, but the mayor, much to your surprise, was extremely pleased with your work.

She made an announcement on television about wanting to thank you personally for everything you've done for Brooklyn.

Which led you here, stood near the entrance of the building the mayor did most of her work in. She looked elegant, black pencil skirt hugging her legs and waist, a matching jacket on top of a white dress shirt. She was so put together it made you nervous.

You didn't look put together. Not that you really could in your spidersuit but you still felt self-conscious. 

Yet she offered you a warm smile, holding her hand out towards you. "Spider! It's nice to meet you in person."

You smiled back, though she couldn't see it from underneath your mask. "It's nice to meet you too, Madame Mayor." Her hand was warm against the fabric of your suit.

"So you and I will just walk out that door," She began, pointing over towards the door. "And I'll greet the crowd, give a speech, and then I'll shake your hand once more. I'll warn you now, there will be a lot of people."

It was strange how you could fight dangerous people and yet the mention of a crowd made your heart rate pick up. 

You nodded, and she smiled again. Her heels clicked loudly against the white flooring of the office building, your steps quieter than hers. You made sure to wear your converse here. There had been many times you forgot to slip on your shoes before heading out of your bedroom window, your mind racing to find reported criminals.

The doors opened, sunlight shined through as you exited the brick building. There was an abundance of people in the crowd, the snapping of pictures and shouts of Spider filled the atmosphere. There were news reporters that surrounded the barricades of the stairs, keeping the rambunctious crowd from getting too close.

"Hello people of Brooklyn!" The Mayor waved, sun reflecting off of her white painted nails. The way she handled the crowd made you envious and it took everything in you not to teeter on your feet to calm the nerves. 

The crowd gave a series of shouts and greetings in reply, making the mayor laugh. She was good at this, but you suppose she had to be. That's when she introduced you, another wave of excited noise spilled from the ocean of people across from you.

"Hello." You replied as you waved and cringed at how awkward you probably sounded. Another group of greetings sounded around you.

People could be loud when they wanted to be, and that amplified in groups. You eyed them, and noticed the little girl from a few days ago again. She rested on top of her father's shoulders—her face was ice-creamless now—and her abundance of red waves was put into braids with ribbons tied at the end.

She made you smile from under your mask, as the beginning of the mayor's speech slipped past your ears. You moved your gaze from her, your eyes looked over the people and that's when you saw them. Your family in the very back.

Dick looked silly. The entirety of his outfit was just Spider merchandise and you were sure he seemed like an obnoxious fan to the rest of the crowd. Jason stood away from him, probably upset that he had to stand so close to Dick when he looked like that. He blended in more with the crowd, he wore simple attire that any normal person would wear in public. Not that he was normal, he just didn't like to stand out in such a way. 

Your father wore a suit. A very pristine suit, as usual, no one except reporters ever wore something so proper to an event like this. 

Steph had the biggest smile ever on her face, hair pulled back by a purple headband, dressed simply in a long skirt and a purple cardigan to cover it. Tim stood next to her, adorned in a sweater Bernard had given him and a pair of shorts. The both of them were on the opposite side of the crowd. Cass was not too far away. 

She had never enjoyed crowds, or people in general. You wouldn't have noticed her if not for your enhanced senses. She leaned against Bruce's car, the entirety of her black attire blended in with the car's paint. Damian was beside her, arms crossed. The warm weather had him in a simple pair of brown cargo shirts, his green t-shirt blended nicely with them.

Damian probably didn't want to come. Not that he didn't love you or anything, no he often talked about how you were the most tolerable out of the rest of his family, he just never saw the point in coming to something he could very easily watch on TV. You were going to make sure to thank him later.

You returned your attention back to the mayor. As she was nearing the end of her speech she turned to you. "—And I'd like to thank each and every one of you for coming here today. The Spider has done so much for our city this last year, and it seemed rude to not provide our hero a proper thank you."

Her hand reached toward you once again, but before she could grasp your hand an intense feeling of danger hit you. Your head snapped up, turning over and noticing a man—one of Visage's men it seemed from the apparel he wore—directing one of the  special guns directly at the mayor. You shielded her quickly, pulling her away just as he pulled the trigger. 

The crowd screamed at the sound, erupting in panic. You should've known this would have happened. Nothing is ever so easy.

 "Are you okay?" You asked the mayor, and she nodded, mumbling a thank you. You once her over just to make sure before jumping back into the crowd. It was almost as if the man multiplied in your short time of making sure the mayor was okay. 

"Can't you guys take days off or something?" You asked, annoyed when you webbed one of the weapons, yanking it out of his hands and sticking it up against the wall of a building. "Seriously, you guys are everywhere. I think you might need to bring this up with your boss."

One of them charged at you, which you swiftly moved out of the way but kept your foot in place, snickering when she tripped on the ground. 

You jumped, legs pushing you high enough to land on the top of a street lamp. You'd yanked one of the men up with you, slamming his head into the light before webbing him to it, leaving him dangling when you jumped down. 

"Do you ever shut up?" A woman shouted, irritated with you. She lunged at you, but hit the wall—hard enough as to where you could hear a loud groan.

"Only if you say please."

There was only one person left, he radiated irritation. It was easy to piss these people off. If it were a sport you'd have 1st place medals galore.

"And then there were two." You joked, watching as he pulled out a similar weapon to the first guys.

"Shut your fucking mouth!"

You scoffed, preparing yourself to attack him before you answered. "Do you people have no manners?"

It was a swift motion, webbing the weapon so he couldn't fire. He tried to rip off the webs before you got him in the face. His sounds of confusion were muffled, and you took this time to kick the legs out from under him, sticking his hand together 

Within minutes, you'd gotten all of them tied up. It was a swift battle—if you could even consider it one—and now you made your way back to the Mayor.

With a quick once over, you knew she was okay. Shaken up, but overall physically okay. You still asked to be sure. "Are you okay?"

She looked at you, offering a smile. "Yes, I'm okay thanks to you. Thank you again, Spider. For everything. I don't know where Brooklyn would be without you."

You couldn’t think of a response. Talking to people was hard, but talking to the Mayor was harder. Especially when she said something like that. “It’s no problem.” You said, though you questioned if it sounded awkward.

After assisting to make sure everyone was okay. You felt a small tug at the stretchy fabric of your suit. Your head drifting in the direction of the source, your heart warmed. It was the little girl from before. “Spider!”

You grinned underneath your mask, crouching down to see eye-to-eye with her, taking notice of the adorable crochet beanie in her head. “Hello. I really like your hat!”

She giggled, the brightest smile you’ve ever seen crossing her features. “It has you on it!”

"It does! Did someone make it for you?"

Her waves bounced around her head when she nodded, grabbing ahold of her father's hand and shaking it around. "My daddy made it for me! Isn't that right, daddy?"

He gave a proud grin, though it wasn't as bright as it would be if he didn't look so exhausted. "Yeah, that's right, sweetheart. I did make it."

"You should convince him to make me one," You joked, looking up at her father. "It's an awesome hat. I'm honored to have such a hat with me on it."

"She wouldn't stop pestering me until I finished," He replied, shaking his head with a chuckle. "She asked me everyday if her hat was done. She loves you."

You warmed and looked back at the child. "And her love will always be appreciated."

After a rather hard goodbye, he led her back towards their small car. It took a few hours, but eventually you were able to make your way back home for a quick meal. You had some spare time before you decided you were going to force yourself back out into the city, hoping to finally give yourself a chance to relax.

Though it seemed your plans had been foiled, the smell of Mac & Cheese filled your apartment, and the slight chatter of familiar voices bouncing off of the fake wooden walls.

"Alfred?" Your eyebrows rose when you saw the man that was basically your second father standing in front of your stove, a pot in front of him as he stirred a wooden spoon through the creamy noodles. "You're making Mac & Cheese?"

Alfred never enjoyed making Mac & Cheese like this, far more into homemade foods rather than the cheap store-bought boxes. He enjoyed putting care into his cooking, and boxed Mac & Cheese took that away. In his eyes, at least.

You set your stuff down, listening to Alfreds words even though he didn't look at you. "I would have made something else, but it seems this was all you had in your cupboard, L/n."

"Fair." You shrugged before you heard someone clearing his throat.

"No hello to your father?"

You looked at him and smiled. "Hello Father."

Jason snickered, as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You sound like Damian." His feet on your table made you send him a light glare.

"Better him than you, Jay. And get your nasty ass feet off my table." You shoved his feet off of the fake wood, as you ignored the glare he sent you when you walked by, and ruffled Damian's hair. "How's the favorite brother?"

He huffed in annoyance and shoved your hand away, an incoherent grumble being your only response.

"Y/n!" Steph interrupted, a blur of purple passing your vision as he gave you a swift hug, arms wrapping tightly around you. "We missed you!"

"I missed you guys too." You grinned, brushing a few strands of blonde hair that fell out of her headband behind her ear after she pulled away. "Where's Cass and Dick?"

As if on queue, Dick walked through the door, his hand in the air as he answered. "We're here!" He had a flare for the dramatics, his high-school yearbooks and his years of theater could prove it. 

Cass' entrance was far more tame, as she carefully walked through as to not drop the big yellow box in her hands,closing the door with her foot. "We brought cake."

"Cake?" You weren't expecting cake, and especially not store bought cake. Alfred would be quivering in his boots if he didn't have to hide his irritation. 

"You didn't tell us about the Mayor." Damian interrupted, his arms crossed. Irritation was written all over his face—which seemed to mask his slight pain about the topic—and you were hit with a sudden pang of guilt.

"Sorry, Dami." You began, as you gave an apologetic smile. You looked at all of them, trying to explain yourself. "You guys are all so busy, I didn't wanna pull you away from your work."

The explanation seemed silly now that you said it out loud. It was a stupid reason, your family cared about you a lot and it probably seemed like a kick in the face. You continued, words spilling out of your mouth in an anxiety consumed guilt.

"It's not that I thought you guys wouldn't care or anything I just— I don't know, I didn't wanna pull you guys away from something more important."

"No work could ever come above you," Bruce spoke quickly, taking your hand within his. He squeezed it, as if it were to make his words stronger with meaning.

And in a way it did, it reminded you that your family may be busy, but you all would always put each other first.

˗ˏˋ ★ ´ˎ˗

sorry this was all over the place!! constructive criticism is always welcome!! please consider reblogging if you did enjoy it!!

[cuethediscoandthedrinks]

some random sfw+nsfw colonel quaritch headcanons~

• bites his bottom lip with his top row of teeth; harshly sucks in a breath with his mouth corners spread far apart when he's either thinking hard, or accidentally hurt himself

• clicks open a penknife he kept with him, and lightly presses his thumb against the open blade when he's lost in thought

• manspreads. not leaning back, but hunching over with his forearms resting atop his knees

• is a big fan of 'nuh-uh/uh-uh' when he disagrees with someone/something, usually whilst cocking an eyebrow

• has an inner sassy that comes out when someone eats the last of his favourite meal, or he has to search around his quarters for a lost belt or radio comm

• likes to ever so subtly closed-mouth hum along to some old country songs from back when he was a human, usually when he's fresh out of the shower. but also if he forgets himself mid-forest patrol, whilst hacking away at the stray vines

• is a bad loser. has a lot of big talk, but goes pretty silent when he starts to lose a card game; less insecure silent, and more bore his eyes into your soul while he juts out his bottom jaw through gritted teeth kinda silent

• misses fried eggs. he used to eat them plain too, just like 3-4 eggs cooked up on a plate, ideally with a fork and nothing else (maybe some pepper?)

• has a hangup about the fruit on pandora. it irks him that despite hating the seemingly airy fairy lifestyle and diet of the na'vi, after a long hard day he now craves a sweet, juicy fruit to chomp into more than anything else

• scrunches up his nose when he hears a joke he doesn't like. he doesn't care for intellectual/wordplay humor. he's secretly a big physical comedy fan; slip down a wet bank? trip over a stray root? choke on some water? he'll belly-laugh

• speaking of, he laughs like how 'hahaha' writes. he's a 'HA-ha-ha-HA-heuUUUgh-AHahahaHaa' laugher, like right from the chest, a little hoarse. def cups his tummy with an open palm when he laughs too

• he'll shit-talk anyone, but primarily those who he deems deserve it. any random person or textbook 'vulnerable'/weak person is almost too tame for him to enjoy mocking, oddly?

• it took him about 2 weeks to really get mentally comfortable sleeping with a tail. he tried fetal, he tried back, he tried left, right; he now sleeps face-down starfish with a foot off the end of the bed bc he kinda wants the under-bed demons to fight him. he'll fight anything

• says "..aHh, fffuckk i'm..c-cumming" when he cums. like, he'll utter some kind of let-you-know phrase, and then swiftly detour into telling you how much you'll love his seed, or how good it must feel to be filled up, or how fucked out you'll be when he's done with you

• counts down when he gives you an order sexually. if you resist which he hopes you do he'll stop, purse his lips and intimidatingly yet blankly stare at you, and begin with a sigh and an "..alright. 3."

• loves to spit in his palm, and then smear it across your cheek and lips. he smirks or straight up grins when he does it, and'll even sometimes dip two fingers into your warm, wet mouth just to amuse himself

• additionally may test your resolve and gag reflex. he finds it both incredibly arousing yet endearing when you gag on his fingers, so he'll push them as deep down your throat as you can bear. maybe spit into your open mouth while he does it if he feels like it

• deeply enjoys humiliating you. it's a big ole power surge for him, and he'll exploit any moment in which your facade falls and you show your innate meek and flustered interior for him

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

I’m back with my Hunter brainrot, thanks to your kinktober post 😅 I hope this is ok to ask:

Can you write a Hunter x f reader where the prompts "I can't risk losing you again." and "Don't you see that I'm hurting?" Are used?

And can it be fluffy with feelings? It would also be cool if it’s NSFW or steamy but that’s honestly up to you. I love your work sm <3 take care

Thank you so much, anon! Sorry for the delay; I was trying to work out how to get the line prompts in while keeping it fluffy/sweet/steamy. There’s a tiny bit of angst, too.

I hope this is okay! <3

Safe with You

After you were snatched by locals on a recent mission, buried feelings bubble up to the surface, and neither of you can fight them back any longer.

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!

Warnings: canon typical violence, hurt and comfort, light angst, feelings and softness, friends to lovers (this trope with this man 🤌), squint for possessiveness, fingering, praise/encouragement.

Rain pelted against the large barracks window, the grey skies a common sight on Kamino. But Hunter’s attention wasn’t on the brewing storm outside. Dark eyes watched as you moved around the room with a slight limp to decant the contents of your pack onto your cot.

Six months you’d been with them. Six months as their civilian handler. You were supposed to report to the Kaminoans on their missions and provide them with whatever they needed to ensure they returned safely each time. The long necks couldn’t have anything happening to their ‘experimental assets’ after all. You weren’t meant to be in the field with them, yet you’d insisted.

And now you were hurt.

Jaw clenching, Hunter tries to forget the panic that had consumed him when you'd sent a distress signal during the middle of the last mission. They’d left you on the Marauder at a safe distance and able to assist if needed, but the locals had found you and weren’t too happy. Your scream of his name over the comms as you’d been dragged out of the ship had turned his blood to ice and would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Before he could stop himself, Hunter was up on his feet and across the room, reaching out for you, selfishly needing to triple-check that you were okay.

You startle as warm hands grasp your wrist, your heart rate spiking as fear simmers in your veins for only a second until you look up at a familiarly handsome face. Try as you might, you were still a little shaken. The locals hadn’t hurt you – your injury was self-inflicted, having smacked your hip on the bunk racks as you’d tried to kick yourself free of their grasp – and that had been their only saving grace when Hunter had stormed their small village with a blaster in one hand and his vibroknife in the other, demanding to know where you were. The relief that had crumpled his face as you’d been yanked out of a nearby building would forever be etched into your memory.

For a moment, you can only stare into his eyes, watching a mired of emotions flicker across his face before his hand shifts to your chin to tilt your head from side to side, double-checking for any marks. “I’m okay, Hunter.” You tell him softly, shifting your weight onto your good leg. “I don’t blame them.” You’re touched by his concern, warmth seeping through your body.

Hunter shakes his head a little, a hard glint in his endless brown eyes. “I do. You’re hurt.”

“Like I said on the way back here, this is self-inflicted.” You repeat, gently taking his wrist to pry his hand from your face. He didn’t need to worry so much – you’d been through a lot worse.

Hunter isn’t backing down that easily, not when something is clawing at his chest and demanding that he be sure you’re okay. “Let me see.”

You pause, blinking a few times at the commanding tone he’d slipped into so effortlessly. It was easy to forget at times that he was in charge. “Hunter…”

“Please.” He remembers his manners, softening his tone a little. He hadn’t meant to come across as harsh or rude, but that strange feeling in his chest wasn’t easing.

“There’s nothing to see. I’ve probably just pulled a muscle. It’ll be fine in a few days.” You point out.

Hunter takes a deep, shaky breath. “You don’t know what it was like hearing you scream out for me.” He pauses, swallowing, the memory replaying on an endless loop in his mind. “Nothing mattered other than getting to you. And I was too slow. You were gone when I got back. But your scent…” His jaw clenched, brows drawn down into a pained frown. One of his hands moved to cup your face, the light drag of his thumb across your cheekbone tugging at your heart. “So sweet but tainted with fear…” He trails off, remembering how relentlessly he’d tracked you down, pushing his senses further than ever before, searching for every little trace of you, desperate to have you back. “Don’t you see that I’m hurting? Please. I need to see that you’re okay.”

You couldn’t deny the worry you saw in Hunter’s eyes, something that rarely surfaced in the stoic soldier, and his words struck a chord with the unspoken connection that had grown between you during your time together. With a small sigh, you nod, giving in to his request.

“Alright. But I promise you, it’s not as bad as you think.” You gently guide him to sit on your cot, lowering yourself next to him and lifting your shirt enough to reveal the purpling bruise on your hip. It wasn’t anything serious, just a painful reminder of the close call.

Hunter’s eyes narrow as he inspects the bruise, his fingers brushing lightly over the discoloured skin. His touch is surprisingly gentle, and for a moment, there’s silence in the room, only the distant rumble of thunder and the patter of rain against the window breaking the stillness.

“I told you, it’s nothing major.” You reassure him, studying the deep furrow in his brow. “I appreciate your concern, but I can handle a few bumps and bruises. It comes with the territory.”

Hunter remains silent, his gaze fixed on the bruise as if trying to will it away. Then, without a word, he rifles through the contents of your pack that you’d dumped out, grabbing a small tube of bacta gel. Wordlessly, he begins to apply it to your bruise, his movements deliberate and tender.

“You shouldn’t have to endure this.” He mutters, almost to himself, his fingers working the gel into your skin. “You weren’t made for this, yet you willingly put yourself in harm’s way. I can’t…I can’t risk losing you again.”

His admission catches you off guard. The weight of his words hangs in the air. The bond between you has evolved, whether you intended it or not.

You place a hand over his, pausing his ministrations. “I’m here because I choose to be. I believe in what you and your brothers are fighting for. I want to help in whatever way I can. I want to protect you. You’re not the only one who would go to great lengths for someone they care about.”

Hunter meets your gaze, his expression softening. At that moment, you realize that the storm brewing outside is nothing compared to the one raging inside Hunter.

You watch as he sets aside the bacta gel, knowing you’re at a crossroads and that whatever you say or do next will tip the scales. His eyes lift to meet yours, and for a moment, the silence lingers until his gaze dips down to your lips for the briefest of seconds. 

You move on instinct. Leaning in, your hand cups his cheek, guiding his face towards yours. As your lips meet in a tender kiss, you feel him respond with relief and desperation, as if he’s afraid this moment might slip away. His hand finds its place on the small of your back, drawing you closer as he deepens the kiss.

Warmth licks through you, and you let out a small noise of surprise as Hunter pulls you carefully onto his lap, shifting you so that you can straddle him. His hand still supports your back, the other cradling the nape of your neck as his tongue presses forward, sliding between your lips to taste you.

Your soft moan is muffled by his mouth, tongue meeting his, body going pliant. Hunter’s lips are firm and confident, every fragment of his adoration for you poured into the kiss. 

He wants to drown in your scent, to block out the rest of the galaxy and focus on nothing but you – the sounds you’re making, the racing of your heart, the taste of you that he’ll never get enough of. Cautious not to jostle you, Hunter stands, cradling you to him, smiling against your lips as your arms and legs wrap around him. As you cling to him, he carries you across the room to his bunk, laying you down gently on his sheets.

Sinking into the softness of the mattress, you gaze up at Hunter as he settles above you, careful not to rest his weight on you. Soft lips return to your body, dragging down your throat as his fingers creep under your shirt, dark fabric pushed up as he traces the curves of your body, the rough pads of his fingers against smooth skin. He’s already half-hard just from kissing you, but he studiously ignores it.

You are his priority. You always have been.

He shifts, working his way down your body. Reverent kisses pressed to your exposed belly, lips lingering around your injured hip, still shiny with bacta. Endless brown eyes flit up to meet your gaze, stealing your breath. Reaching down, you cup the inked side of his face, watching as his eyes flutter shut, head tilting into your touch, lips ghosting the palm of your hand in a feather-light kiss as he reassures himself that you're okay. Tears prickle at your eyes, heart aching at the sweetness of the gesture.

Fingers reach the waistband of your pants, already sitting low to not press on your hip, and there's a silent question in his gaze as he looks up at you.

With a small nod, you encourage him, and Hunter slowly pries your pants down further, eyes flitting between yours and the expanse of skin slowly revealed to him. He sees every emotion painted on your beautiful face, like a masterpiece he’s dedicated his entire life to studying.

Your pants hit the floor, Hunter’s lips trailing a path back up your body, soft kisses and gentle nips laved across your thighs and stomach. One arm returns to supporting his weight above you while the other hand smooths across your body, committing every part of you to memory. He could spend an eternity mapping you, losing himself in every nuance of you. Your honeyed scent fills his lungs, overpowering the lingering smells in the barracks.  

It’s the sweetest torture you’ve ever experienced, the soft drag of his fingers across your body, the warmth of him so close, those eyes that have drawn you in since the very beginning. He dips down for a delicate kiss, fingers sliding across your thighs. They part without protest, and the deep rumble of approval that flees his lips sends a shiver through you.

Tentatively, he drags two fingers across the front of your damp panties as your kiss breaks. “So needy already, cyar’ika.” He croons, marvelling at the whimper you let loose. “Should probably do something about that, eh?” He adds, catching your clit with his next stroke, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

All you can do is nod, heart racing as you look up at him, trusting he’ll take care of you.

A smile passes over Hunter’s lips, and his fingers dance under the waistband of your panties, sliding down through your slick folds. Drawing lazy circles around your entrance, he goes to press a digit into your warm heat but pulls back at the last moment. Your brows furrow, and the small whine of frustration you let out makes him chuckle. “Patience, mesh’la.” He admonishes playfully, dragging his fingers up and over your clit again, making you gasp.

It’s maddening. But at the same time, oh so delicious. One of your hands grasps at the sheets of his bunk, the other grabbing onto him, anchoring yourself as his fingers stroke across you, cataloguing each spot that makes your hips jolt or pulls a little sound from you.

The delicious torture comes to an end as he finally presses a finger into you, another sliding in beside it. A soft moan escapes you, muffled as Hunter presses his lips to yours, crooking his fingers until he finds the right spot.

Stars erupt in your vision, kiss breaking as you tilt your head back, letting out another moan as pleasure curls through you. 

“There it is.” Delight warms Hunter’s voice as he finds the spot, fingers moving, watching enraptured as you react to his touch. Leaning closer, his lips ghost over the shell of your ear. “You should see yourself, cyar’ika. So beautiful.” He whispers, revelling in the way your heart rate spikes at his words, how you squirm and cant your hips to chase the pleasure he’s giving you. “That’s it. Take what you need.” He encourages.

Eyes sliding shut, warmth builds in your belly with every brush of his fingers against that sensitive spot inside you, with every soft word he utters. You grind down against his palm, the added pressure on your clit making your head spin as his fingers slide in and out of you.

Hips rolling, you’re grateful for the bacta gel that’s numbed the earlier ache, and you whine as Hunter’s teeth graze your earlobe. Warm puffs of his breath caress your neck as he dips down, dragging the flat of his tongue from your clavicle back to your ear, making you shiver. “Keep going, sweetheart, you’re doing so well.” He murmurs, a low rasp to the smoky voice you’ve grown to love.

Breath stuttering, you cling to him, desperately rocking against his hand. Your fingers twist the sheets as the pressure builds and builds. “Please...” You whine, eyes opening to find lust-blown brown gazing right back at you.

You ask so sweetly that Hunter can’t do anything but take mercy on you. Ensuring his fingers continue pumping slowly in and out of your tight heat, his thumb makes contact with your clit, and the cry you let out is magnificent.

“Yes, yes, like that…” You babble, eyes falling shut once more as he works you into a frenzy. Lips parting on a silent gasp, you finally tip over the edge. Trembles skitter through your body as you give yourself over to it, letting yourself be swept up in the moment.

Hunter has seen a lot in his few years – sunrises on pretty planets, families reunited, millions of stars shining in distant pockets of the galaxy. Still, all of it pales compared to the sight of you falling apart beneath him.

Working you through the high, his hand only stills once your beautiful eyes open once more and, holding your gaze, he slides his fingers from you, dragging them up to his mouth. The taste of you explodes in his mouth, and he groans, lapping at his fingers as he cleans away the evidence of your release.

Ragged breaths escape you as you come down from the high, watching the way the man you adore savours the taste of you. Exhaustion starts to creep through your body, the adrenaline of the day wearing off and the intensity of your orgasm stealing what little energy you had left. “Your turn…” You mumble, hand sliding down his body towards the thick length straining against his blacks.

Hunter gently captures your wrist, guiding your hand back up before peppering your pulse point with light kisses. “Promise me that I can teach you how to defend yourself better. And that you’ll always carry my spare vibroknife.” He makes a heartfelt request.

You attempt to protest, but seriousness settles over his expression, a stark reminder of how shaken he’d been earlier. “Tomorrow morning, I’m returning the favour. Then I’ll promise you anything.” You finally conceded.

A soft chuckle escapes him. “Deal.” He agrees, sealing the pact with a gentle press of his lips to yours. Carefully, he shifts you, pulling the sheet up, cocooning you in warmth. “There’s my girl.” He coos, watching as your eyes start to droop, lids heavy.

Half-awake, you mumble. “Yours?”

“Mine.” He confirms tenderly, smoothing your hair from your face, the ache in his chest finally easing as you rest safely in his bunk.

[reader6898]

Ease

Pairing: Kix x pregnant! female reader

Summary: When Kix comes back home from a day of saving lives and sees his pregnant wife having back issues he decides to help ease her pain

Warning: 100% fluff, Kix being the best husband to his loving wife

A/n: I'm back babes! I'm so excited to be writing for all of you again so enjoy some fluff with our favorite medic and look out for some more new content coming soon 😘

Kix couldn't wait to get home. After seeing multiple patients and helping in two surgeries at the hospital all he wanted to do was take a shower to get the day off of him, eat some unhealthy takeout from Dex's Diner and curl up on the couch to binge watch all his favorite shows and movies before sleeping for the next three days. Most importantly he wanted to be with his beautiful riduur. You were everything to Kix and once he got home he wanted to dote on you hand and foot. He would do pretty much anything for you. As Kix left the hospital he said goodbye to his coworkers and made his way down the street to the diner. He picked up a whole bunch of food for you and him then caught a cab home. Kix sent you a message letting you know that he was on his way home and you sent him a reply telling him you couldn't wait to see him. Kix smiled before putting his comm away and enjoyed the rest of the ride home.

---

Kix made his way up to your shared apartment and punches in the code. The door slides open and Kix makes his way inside. "Cyar'ika, I'm home." Kix kicks his shoes off and sets his bag down. He carries the bag of food to the kitchen and when he sees you Kix smiles. "Hello, my love." Kix's smile fades as he sees you with a hand on your back and he knows that you must be in pain. It's not that all surprising since you were eight months pregnant and on top of that you were carrying twins. Both of you were so happy when you found out you were pregnant but as the months passed and your pregnancy progressed all you wanted was for the pregnancy to be over.

Kix sets the food down on the counter and makes his way behind you. He puts his hands around your heavily pregnant belly and gently lifts it. You groan and lean your head against Kix's chest as the extra weight is lifted off of you. "Feel good?" You giggle a little. "Have I told you I love you?" Kix smiled as he placed a kiss on your head. "I love you too, Mesh'la." As the two of you stand there Kix wishes that he could take all of your symptoms and pains of your pregnancy away from you and put himself through it. Unfortunately he can't and he knows that this pain free moment for you can't last forever. "I'm sorry, cyare." You hummed in understanding. "It's okay, Kix. You can let go."

Kix holds your stomach for another moment before gently setting your belly down. You turn around and wrap your arms around Kix as much as you can but your huge pregnant belly was in the way. You groan and Kix laughs a little as he kneels down and makes eye level with your stomach. "You two are such trouble makers. Let your poor buir be and let me hug her." At the sound of Kix's voice the twins kick you and you place your hand on your stomach. "They aren't happy that their daddy is giving them orders." Kix shakes his head with a smile on his face and places a kiss on your stomach.

Kix stands back up and pulls you close. " I got all our favorites. I'm gonna go take a shower and put on something comfy then we can hang out in the living room and binge watch our shows and movies while we eat." You place your hands on Kix's chest. "I love it. But you know that we also have to set up the nursery and you have to put the cribs together." Kix groaned. "We can do all that tomorrow. For now I just want to spend time with my beautiful, sexy riduur." You smile at the flattery and Kix captures your lips with his. The two of you kiss for a moment before he pulls away.

"I'll be back." Kix walks out of the kitchen and down the hall to your bedroom. You hear the door close and the shower start as you sigh. You don't know how you ended up with a loving man such as Kix but you wouldn't have it any other way. You take out a couple of plates and the food out of the bags and by the time that all of that is done Kix is all cleaned and dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. He places a hand on your stomach as he kisses you once again and the twins kick you again when they feel Kix. The two of you laugh as you pull away from one another.

" I think the twins are hungry." Kix smiles. "I'm sure they're eager for the food that I brought us." Kix grabs the food while you grab the plates and silverware and the two of you make your way to the couch. Kix puts everything down and he helps you sit down. Once the two of you are settled you pick out a show to watch while Kix puts food on the plates and afterwards the two of you settle in for the night. You eat all you can and once your stomach is full and your unborn babies are satisfied you sit closer to Kix who pulls you close. You settle in closer and not long after the two of you have fallen asleep in one another's arms.

Tagging: @anxiouspineapple99 @techs-stitches @dystopicjumpsuit @trixie2023 @cw80831 @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @sunshinesdaydream @eternal-transcience @clonethirstingisreal @sverdgeir @sev-on-kamino @the-rain-on-kamino @the-bad-batch-baroness @rexxdjarin @freesia-writes @523rdrebel @moonlightwarriorqueen @secondaryrealm @wizardofrozz @wings-and-beskar @photogirl894 @vodika-vibes @multi-fan-dom-madness

[the-milk-monarch]

☣︎ Maybe I'll add a part two sometime with Vito, Cody and Scott but for now damn that was exhausting

[𝚂𝙿𝙸𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴]

Summary: The losers play spin the bottle + aftermath ☢︎ | Total Drama | ~4,5k words | gender-neutral reader ♡ | Mike | Mal | Noah ⚠ | swears | making out | cliche much and using Heather as a plot device? | god I can't write, it's so cheesy

[𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘]

⚠ | setting: Total Drama Island AU

Most of the people who joined Total Drama have already been eliminated, and so were you. You didn't mind though, as you got to enjoy the positive side of losing - Playa Des Losers.

It was a lazy evening, most of the folks were busy doing their thing, but you were getting kinda bored.

You thought you were doomed with the boredom of yours, until you heard Chris McLean's voice through the speaker.

"Hey happy campers! Guess what. Do you want to win some money, even as a loser?" Were the words you caught.

Some contestants turned their heads towards the source of the sound.

"That's right!" He exclaimed. "You know how on TV there's always some fun hanging out time scenes between the contestants? Well you seem to lack at your job so I'm here to fix it!"

You slightly rolled your eyes at his words. You were a bit of a social anxiety filled loner, but he doesn't have to point that out.

"If you wanna earn a few additional bucks when going home, a measly $100, you're gonna have to play spin the bottle!"

You noticed some gasps, laughs and confused looks from the other people.

You thought the idea is a bit childish, but free 100 bucks is 100 bucks, so you didn't plan to turn down that idea. You were already a loser, so why not get the extra money?

All of the willingly participating contestants joined a shared space near the pool in a small gathering.

You sat down somewhere as well, awaiting further instructions.

Chris instructed for someone to take the bottle and spin it.

"Heather!" He shouted, making the girl turn her head towards the speaker. "You're gonna start! Spin the bottle and give a dare to a fellow loser."

She exhaled through her teeth, making a little "psh." noise.

"Alright."

Her hand twisted the bottle and sent it into a whirl.

"Hey, Chris!" Heather shouted before asking a question. "You want some bonding time, huh?"

Finally the bottle chose it's victim - to your surprise - it wasn't you.

"Yeah?" Chris's voice echoed around, a bit curious.

You were unsure what Heather had prepared, but you knew it wouldn't be anything easy.

"Well then, since Y/N arrived not too long ago, and I observed them hanging around a particular someone recently, why not pull them closer together?" She had a smug smirk on her face, which made you quite worried now.

"Kiss Y/N." Her finger pointed at you.

[𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎]

"Wh- Wha-" Mike lost balance and nearly fell from the chair he was sitting on as he processed the dare.

You also reacted with a subtle and baffled gasp bordering on"wha-".

"But- What? Why? I can't do that, what if Y/N doesn't want to?" He quickly bombarded her with questions, a bit embarrassed he had to discuss this in front of you.

"Then they'll have to take away your chance at the money." She assumed, innocently shrugging her shoulders.

Upon hearing the dare, Chris once again joined into the convo through the speakers.

"Oh, I forgot to mention, both participants get the 100 bucks to share if they fulfill their dare. Fifty-fifty each." He elaborated.

"And no forcing fellow contestants if they don't want to do the dare. That's not cool, dudes." He felt the need to add that last part, especially for TV.

Mike looked at you with anxious puppy eyes, uncomfortable with the idea that Heather came up with.

You froze a bit.

How could Heather figure out you had a sweet spot for Mike?

You thought you weren't that obvious, Mike never commented on it.

You blinked twice before returning the gaze at him.

"Eh- I don't know if- If you wanna do that, Y/N?" Mike started to sweat a little.

You felt the rising anxiety inside you, was Mike gonna comment anything on Heather's comment?

"I mean, I'd never want to make you uncomfy-" He trailed off a bit before you cut him off.

"Um, no- I mean- I-" You noticed you started to babble so you finally just said the most appropriate response you could think of at the moment with a nervous grin. "Sure, let's get the money."

You could see a bit of Mike dying inside after he heard your approval.

Mike got up from his seat, slowly coming towards you with his hands close to his chest, fidgeting slightly.

You awaited your "doom", feeling as if the time became slower.

All of the losers' eyes were on you both, expecting something to happen.

He met your gaze once he was close enough to you.

You stared at him, trying to keep a straight face and not disclose what was going through your head at the moment.

"Alright then- I'll, uh, start-" He said meekly, nearing closer to your face.

You started looking at his red cheeks until a kiss took you by a surprise.

You were fully expecting a kiss on the lips, but instead you felt it on your cheek.

Guess you shouldn't be greedy.

Mike immediately backed out after he was done, but not too fast so you'd think he finds you particularly repulsive.

You felt the corners of your lips turn into a bashful smile that you couldn't control.

You felt kind of stupid when your first kiss with him was because of Heather, though. You hoped it didn't scare Mike too much.

Mike had one as well, albeit much more worried than yours.

You noticed him hurry back to his place, with his face still subtly red.

[AFTERMATH]

After the whole thing was over and everyone went their separate ways, you tried to find Mike.

You didn't want to leave on an awkward note and you wanted to explain some things. You decided it was time to.

You spotted Mike helping himself near the snackbar, away from other people.

You didn't know whether he wanted to be left alone or not, but you approached anyway.

Mike immediately turned his head as he heard you clearing your throat.

"O-Oh, Y/N, hey!" He greeted you with a slightly nervous, yet still kind grin.

"Oh no, they're here-"

"Hey Mike." You politely reciprocated, trying not to panic inside.

"Okay, calm down. They only came to talk. Maybe- Maybe it's not about that kiss?"

"Um... What's up?" He also tried his best so the situation wouldn't be awkward.

"So... The bottle thing." You gently started, stopping for a moment to regain your thoughts on the topic which were being drowned in your worries.

"They are gonna talk about that kiss. No, no, no, no-"

His face changed for a second into a look of doubt and anxiety which was quickly covered with a smile.

"...Yeah? What about it?" He quietly gulped.

"Well- I- Hope this doesn't- You know." You felt as if your mouth forbid you from forming proper sentences.

"Y-Yeah, me too- It was-" He felt himself being tongue-tied as well.

"It was what, Mike? Nice? You can't say that!"

You and Mike shut up as soon as you realized you're both just as hopeless.

After a moment of silence, you finally heard a pathetic and tense chuckle coming his way.

You were about to panic even more, thinking he's laughing at you, but the thought that he was as nervous as you prevented you from doing that.

"Honesty is the best way to go, right? Just be normal for once."

"Sorry. Guess it got to me more than I thought." He finally admitted without beating around the bush. "I- I don't want you to think I'm a weirdo because of that, though."

"What? No-" You quickly denied that, making him visibly less worried.

"I-" Words yet again got stuck in your throat, which started to piss you off a little. Mike could do nothing but listen intently to what you were about to say.

"I-If you promise to also not think I'm a weird for what I'm about to say, then-" You tried to put on a confident facade as you started fidgeting with your hands a little.

"Of course not!" Mike quickly chimed in, now even more desperate to hear your response. "I promise."

You knew if you screw this up, it'd be game over. The words finally flew out of you.

"I- kinda hoped you'd aim for the lips."

You saw Mike freeze the moment he processed what was being said to him.

"Aim for the lips."

You broke him. The four words were floating in his head, covering every free space in it.

You remained tense and quiet, dreading each second he didn't reply.

Finally he got to his senses and slightly shaked his head.

"I- I'm sorry, it just took me by a surprise-" He couldn't cover the red that was on his face after that info. "Usually people try to get away from me, you know?"

It was your turn to let out the meek chuckle that was forming in the back of your throat.

"Yeah- Well- Not me." You admitted.

"U-unless you want me to-?" Anxiety got a hold of you once again.

"N-no!" He tensed up once more, slightly reaching out his hand towards you as if you were about to run away.

Until he realized his reaction was a bit too much.

"I mean-" He instead quickly scratched the back of his head with the hand that he extended prematurely. "Y-You can stay."

"I- I hope they're being honest."

He waited a second before speaking once more, leaving you with anticipation.

"...You can even- come closer, if you'd like."

You noticed the familiar, sweet toothy grin that was coated with an unhealthy dose of worry and hesitation.

You took a step forward, making Mike subtly cower.

"...Yea?" Shy but reassuring smile appeared on your face.

You didn't fully realize how tall he was before you stepped closer. Usually it wasn't a problem to look him in the eyes, but because of the close proximity you had to move your head up to face him.

If his focus wasn't entirely on you now, Mike's second worry would be his profuse sweating.

"Well- Um- Y-You won't get money for it, but if you're still interested, I could..." If it wasn't for your very close distance, you'd almost miss Mike's murmur.

Fortunately, you managed to catch it all.

With this reassurance, you reached out your hands so they could hold Mike's face.

You felt his cheeks getting even hotter with your touch.

Smooch.

You heard a surprised half whimper and gasp come out of him as soon as your lips touched.

He looked at you like a deer in the headlights as you pulled away from the kiss, knowing he already lost the battle with his face showing all the emotions coursing thru him.

"You know, that 'pay-off' is enough for me."

[𝙼𝚊𝚕]

Mal was sitting in the corner, the only indication that he participated in the game was his place near the pool.

Not too long ago he was sulking about his recent "unfair" elimination from the show he planned to win and so he was extra grumpy from the moment he arrived.

He almost stopped paying attention to whatever unimportant was happening until he noticed the bottle pick him.

"Kiss Y/N." He heard Heather's dare.

"What am I, fucking 14?" He bluntly spat out his annoyance at the childish topic.

"This is a family friendly show, Mal. Language!" Chris had to beep out Mal's profanity for sure.

You just sat there, frozen with the implications of the dare and what Mal might possibly think about what Heather said now.

Mal obnoxiously rolled his eyes, as to show his irritation further.

Suddenly you felt his piercing gaze sizing you up.

It made you tense.

"Y/N sure seems to act out their crush like a teenager. Make a move already, sweetie." Heather mocked you with the audacity of sounding like she doesn't even care about it.

She couldn't actually have a clue about you actually being interested in Mal, though.

She disliked Mal as much as Alejandro, knowing he's a proper rival to her, and with your "fascination" with him, you were more inclined to hang around him.

You were just in a "wrong place at a wrong time" and she wanted to make a jab at him.

"Well, Y/N, are you 'above 14' and up for it?" Chris dared to joke as he waited for your response.

"Uh- Yeah- Okay." You nodded while saying, albeit a bit quietly from the shock that was still in your mind.

Mal sighed dramatically as he so gracefully got up his butt to slither your way.

His walk was careless but still arrogant, matching his opinion about the topic.

He looked at you from above as you were still sitting on your place.

His face got closer as he bent to whisper in your ear.

"You really up for it?" He asked with a mix of "i don't care" as well as some not so subtle mocking and teasing grin. "With me?"

You avoided looking at his eyes to not betray too much, although you were sure that if Mal weren't conveniently casting a shadow on your face with his, he'd be able to see your blush.

"Yes." You managed to spit out, hoping that your attempts at being casual worked. "...For the cash righ-"

You tried to explain yourself further so he wouldn't take you for a pining weirdo, but you were promptly stopped by his lips touching yours.

You yelped quietly as he pulled you into a deeper kiss that you were not prepared for at all, grabbing your chin.

Mal wanted to make a show and so he did, much to everyone's surprise.

Heather's eyebrows even raised in shock, but they were nothing compared to yours.

After a not so steamy make-out, he finally backed off, leaving you with a need to process what happened.

"Oh, what a terrible fate. Truly embarrassing. Get a grip." He made a disgusted face at Heather, leading the point further with how stupid the idea was.

Mal was above the silly dare and so he didn't make a fuss about it.

He just wanted to shock people for his own amusement, per usual.

And maybe even subtly express his anger at people trying to make kissing him out of all people a "terrible fate".

He moved back to the place he was sitting on before, leaving you with a memory of the situation burned into your brain.

[AFTERMATH]

He was always good at reading people - skill he had to develop due to his upbringing.

So he didn't really worry about being in the wrong in the situation.

The smug brat knew you were into him, seeing your behavior around him.

After the game was over and everyone had fulfilled their dares, he approached you when you were least expecting it.

"Hey, lovebird." You heard the voice you knew too well, from someone you wanted to avoid for the moment.

Mal noticed your visible flinch as he went up to you from behind and chuckled under his breath.

"Not so happy to see me now?" He gazed at you while crossing his arms with cocky amusement. "I thought you enjoyed yourself not too long ago."

You had to wait a moment before the words could properly formulate in your mouth. You were baffled that he had the audacity to taunt you with it so casually.

Mal waited out your silence with an eye roll.

"Come on, I don't have all day." He impatiently hurried you, making you regain your voice.

"I-" You had trouble looking him in the eye after what happened.

"I am- not displeased by seeing you." You nailed it.

(No you didn't.)

"That's a step in the right direction." He concluded and dared to show you a mocking smirk, stepping closer. "But how about you admit that you're very happy to see me?"

His shameless cockiness and nonchalance thrown you off a little. You weren't sure if he was playing a cruel joke on you .

You decided to turn the question on him, somewhat smoothly.

"Well- It seems you are. Why else would you come to see me?" You replied with fake confidence, hoping it'd fool him.

Mal only chuckled at your attempt at being cool.

"Well, I can't deny I've been thinking about you." He once again managed to shut you up with a shit eating grin.

You remained silent for a longer second, obviously not knowing what to respond.

"You seem very speechless today, dear." He raised his brow amused, he was clearly thriving on making you uncomfortable.

"Don't get me wrong, it's adorable. But a conversation is a two way street, you know?" He was becoming bolder the more he saw you squirm.

"You don't really give me easy things to respond to, you know." A bit of truth escaped from you. He got you.

"Oh, I'm very well aware." He grinned and tilted his head confidently. The way he was staring at you made you feel very small. "What's wrong? Too afraid to say something?"

"Did you really come here only to make me feel stupid, or-" You tried to remain casual, but a bit of anxiety managed to fall into your response.

"Oh, the fun part of seeing you all shy and stumbling over your words is just a plus." He exhaled with amusement. "Besides, you don't need me to think you're stupid, you're doing a good enough job all on your own."

You furrowed your brows a little. So you were right. He was just making fun of you?

Mal rolled his eyes. You obviously weren't reacting how he wanted you to, but he wasn't about to give up.

"Why don't you just be honest for once? You seem awfully tense for such a simple conversation." He pushed your limits a bit, testing what made your nerves tick.

You sighed with both frustration and hopelessness.

Your mind was too preoccupied with thinking what a fool you were potentially making of yourself, you didn't even realize how many signs Mal was giving you. In his own way.

"... Okay." You started to gain some courage to finally speak up.

"There we go." The corner of his mouth curved into a sly smirk for a moment. He seemed pleased with his success, but made no move to make his intentions clearer.

In fact, his expression changed from smug to an impatiently raised brow, daring you to make the next move.

"Yes, I am into you." You finally decided to stop stalling and say the obvious. You tried your best to hide your embarrassment and fear of rejection on your face, which made Mal's eyes flash with curiosity and something else.

Mal looked pleasantly shocked for a moment, but quickly regained his composure and the smug expression came back.

"Finally, someone's not afraid of saying it." He paused for maximum dramatic effect, as if he'd been waiting for this moment. After the pause he leaned in close, bringing his face close to yours.

When the tension was highest between you two, he abruptly backed away and smirked at him again.

"You'll have to do better than admitting you're into me, though." He once again tested you.

"Huh- What else do you expect me to say?" You turned your head slightly, a bit dumbfounded by the demand.

"Oh, you don't have to say anything." He then took you by the waist, making you squirm a little by the sudden contact.

"You could always express yourself with actions…" He smiled devilishly, his brown eyes never leaving yours. He kept his hands resting on you, enjoying how awkward and nervous he made you.

Your face was undeniably at least a bit red by how quick it all went down.

Nonetheless, you wouldn't forgive yourself if you screwed this up when the fate gave you a chance to kiss your object of affection twice.

[𝙽𝚘𝚊𝚑]

"...What?" He stared at Heather with his skeptically raised eyebrow, which was conveying more so confusion and bafflement at this point.

You couldn't help but look at Heather the same, except with even more surprise.

"No hard feelings Noah, I don't care." She "lightheartedly" said. "But Y/N here..."

You knew Heather would start picking at you sooner or later.

You didn't really have a good relationship with her, and few days ago she seriously started to piss you off.

You had a little altercation before all of this but you didn't really think it was something to dwell on.

Apparently Heather thought the opposite.

Noah's face stayed the same until his expression softened into something else, but was promptly changed back.

"Wow. Really mature." He discarded her attempt at clowning on both of you.

"Well, dare's a dare, ain't it?" She repeated the rules of the game, shrugging carelessly.

He took a long and hesitant sigh as he lazily made way towards you.

You followed his moves with your eyes, finally meeting his as your gaze landed on his face.

"...Eh-" He stopped for a moment, cringing internally. "So- You okay with proceeding?"

"Yeah-" You nodded, sensing the awkward atmosphere.

Noah didn't make much effort to blow the kiss out of proportion.

He just smooched your lips in a quick manner and then, without a word, moved to his seat.

You tried to copy his demeanor towards the situation, not making a big deal out of what happened.

Your eyes wandered around the place after, but you managed to catch a glimpse of Owen playfully nudging Noah and letting out a silly giggle.

[AFTERMATH]

You couldn't bear the thought of the tense note you left off with Noah.

You felt immense second-hand cringe for Noah, who visibly didn't want to end up in the situation.

Even though it was a dare both of you accepted, you didn't want him to associate you with a gross memory.

So you gathered all of your confidence to go talk to him.

You noticed him reading a book somewhere in a secluded place.

You thought it's normal, since most people prefer peace and quiet while reading, but you also knew Noah was able to read just fine around other people to, if he wanted to.

You weren't about to question him about that, though.

He was deeply focused on his book, so when he heard you clearing his throat, you noticed some alarms going off in his brain as he saw you.

"Hey-" You awkwardly started.

He subtly stopped himself for a moment, grabbing his book and putting it down so that he'd show his attention is on you.

"Hey." He reciprocated your greeting, responding flatly but not maliciously.

You were a bit lost with how to start, so you just talked on the spot.

"So like, I know we don't really talk, but I just wanted to make sure that it's not, uh, weird between us because of Heather's immaturity." You explained as best as you could.

It was true, you and him weren't really close, but you also never shown any maliciousness between each other, and you wanted it to stay that way.

He digested your words for a moment as he searched for a proper response.

"I'm not affected by Heather's stupidity. It's not contagious." He summed it up in calm but witty manner. "Why would I be weirded out by an immature dare?"

"Right- That's cool then-" You tensed up slightly, but his response was also a bit relieving.

"... Unless it's you who has a problem?" He asked, raising his brow.

His expression stayed analytical and with a healthy dose of skepticism, but there was also a part of soft insecurity thrown in.

"No, no!" You quickly chased away his allegation.

Both of you once again found yourself in an uncomfortable silence.

You haven't made a peep, but you swear you could hear some quiet and unsurely irritated sigh from Noah as you planned to end this interaction.

Suddenly he opened up his mouth. "Well then, as we established-"

He tried to keep his words as casual as they come, with fear of coming more awkward than he intended te situation to be. "I think we should just, move on, and stop acting like it's a big deal."

"Yeah. You're right." You agreed with a nod, yet still felt a bit blursed about the fact that now you had your crush's attention on you.

"I mean, it's not like it was a first kiss on a school trip." You tried to joke to make the moment lighter.

"...Yeah." Noah's response came off a bit flat, with his movements becoming stiffer, but his expression remained a mystery.

"... It wasn't your first kiss, was it?" You blurted out without thinking over what you're gonna say.

You noticed the surprised and a bit called out face of his.

"Yeah- no way. You're like my fifth one this week." He quickly saved his face as he responded in a sarcastic manner.

You chuckled, although you weren't sure if he's joking or not.

"Wow, okay, sorry, that came off a bit weird of me, huh-" You backed away with your question apologetically.

"Yeah." He responded with the typical dry tone, but you could hear some light amusement from the reply. "Well, if you won't go bragging about it to others, then..."

You felt your face get a bit hotter, were you really his first kiss?

Now you felt a bit bad.

Did he have any regrets??

You had to know.

"Oh- Sorry for- taking that, I guess-" You tried to not dig at the "issue" further but also show that you're sorry, in case he expected that.

He softly smirked in slight amusement at your unsureness.

"It's just a kiss." He reminded you both.

You only chuckled nervously in return.

The moment was broken by a familiar blond-haired boy coming your way in a hurry.

"Noah, I saw Y/N heading your way!" You both heard Owen's voice nearing closer. "Maybe you can finally talk about that kiss-"

You saw Owen's face faltering into surprise and then embarrassment when he saw Noah's face trying to say "quit it" without making a sound around you.

"-Hershey's kiss, that you ate this monday, because, there were some, in the kitchen." He "smoothly" saved the situation and began to slowly retreat.

"Man, I'm hungry- I wonder if there are any left- I'll go check." And so he ran off.

Once again, the tense atmosphere creeped into to your surroundings again.

Noah couldn't help himself but let out a disappointed, given up sigh as he facepalmed.

"...What was that about?" You looked at him questioningly, but not trying to overwhelm him.

"That was my last chance at keeping this conversation not awkward." He cynically replied.

You stopped for a moment, unsure how to proceed.

"Okay, I'll just stop being immature and say it. I like you." Noah mumbled out your way, although he tried to make sure you hear it, his hesitance was obvious.

You were stunned to hear such words leave specifically his mouth, but you were in no mood to complain.

"I like you too." You didn't think much, you just said what's been on your mind in the current state.

You were about to take back your words, afraid of how easily you let on your feelings, but hey, he said it first, right?

"Oh. Wow." Was his only response after a moment.

[gumnut-logic]

J Protocol

The Protocols

This one is a long time coming and I've been staring at it for hours, so have no idea if it is good enough and it hasn't been read through by anyone but me, so I'm going in blind.

This is for @onereyofstarlight who has waited long enough ::hugs::

I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

John liked to be alone.

It allowed him to rest, to think, and to be himself. There were no demands on how he needed to act, what he was wearing or what he felt like saying.

Alone he could serenade the stars, karaoke dance to his ABBA collection, read without anyone commenting on what he was reading, and, hell, leave the bathroom door open if he wanted to. Being alone had its advantages.

But it also had its disadvantages.

Today had been an unpleasant one.

The fish brother in the back of his head cried foul and described it in much more colourful terms, in several different languages - did Gordon actually know how to speak Greek? All of the above would have had Grandma threatening to clean his mouth out with soap, but really, John couldn’t help but agree with the description.

Even the thought of his little brother had him smiling just a little as Thunderbird Five slowly grew larger.

He had been out in his exosuit, something he usually enjoyed when a rescue was close by. This had involved a couple of idiots in orbit who had done something very, very stupid.

And it cost them everything.

John had been fast, but space was faster and it took their lives.

Scott had been on comms at the time. His eldest brother had all the kind words amongst the command decisions, but a mission failure was still a failure and after the long shift before it, John was just tired and sad.

Returning home to Five was a relief, but there was part of him, a very small part of him, who missed the loud of home.

He liked being alone.

But he loved his family.

And today sucked all the ass.

Gordon, watch your language.

Talkin’ to yourself, bro.

Solitude also tended to promote conversations with himself.

“John, which airlock will you be using?”

But then, was he truly alone?

“The rear ‘lock, Eos. The suit needs some repairs and a good clean.”

“Should I alert Virgil?”

“No, I can manage.” But that would be an excuse to see his big brother. Virgil wasn’t a fan of space, but he would drop by at any hint of John needing help.

A glance in the direction of Tracy Island, in midnight darkness just like the whole half a planet beneath him.

John sighed as he slowed, firing reverse thrusters to kill off his velocity, to a smooth pacing of Five. Splattering himself across her solar panels would certainly be an undesirable end to an already shitty day.

Eos had the airlock open and waiting, enabling John to slip in quietly. Five crept around him with her protection. Being out in space was a raw experience. Beautiful, but raw. His ‘bird provided a sense of security with cahelium between him and the harsh environment.

The airlock sealed and the air pressure welled up, familiar in its reassuring caress. The inner door slipped open and he pushed off gently into the module he had left in such a hurry several hours earlier.

He ran through the disassembly routine for his exosuit, robotic arms pulling it gently from his body. For some reason he found himself leaning into that metallic touch.

Damn, maybe he had been away from Tracy Island for too long.

He would have to schedule some leave.

But he had that experiment running…and Auckland University were waiting for his write up on his comet. He could do the writing on Tracy Island - would his brothers give him the space?

The pun was ignored.

His brothers tried. He knew they tried. They respected his wishes as much as they could. Didn’t understand them, but respected them. They knew social interaction took energy he felt better spent elsewhere. They knew that what worked for them didn’t necessarily work for him.

They tried.

Hard.

But he also knew they missed him.

And he loved them for it.

Returning to Earth added him to their lives in three dimensions and they often wanted to take advantage of that. Hell, he wanted to take advantage.

But there was transition time from space to Earth, and all the stuff he had up here, and…

God, he was tired.

The mechanics finished up, leaving him floating free in the centre of the module.

He let himself drift just a little.

“John?”

Eos didn’t ask if he was okay, but the question was there anyway.

He sighed. “Stash the exosuit, I’ll do the repairs tomorrow.”

“Yes, John.” How did she put so much emotional inflection into those two words?

He refused to sigh again, simply reaching out to touch the wall and nudge himself towards the airlock leading into the central hub of Five.

The room lit up as he entered, the familiar map of the planet below spreading out across the spherical walls. The rescue indicators were clear for once in his life and he was quite happy to pass by the map and head for the gravity ring, aiming for his bathroom and the chance to clean off the sweat under his uniform.

“Hey.”

The sudden appearance of a body blocking his path confused his exhausted brain and he was slow to connect the dots of green, blue and heavy lifting brother.

“Whoa, Johnny, take a breath.”

A hand steadied him where his reaction had sent him spinning just a little.

“Virgil? What? Eos, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Virgil asked me not to. You said I should listen to Virgil, so I did.”

John deflated, and sighed in exasperation. “Virgil, why? You scared the shit out of me.”

That earned him a raised eyebrow.

Okay, so plain, old boring swear words weren’t usually his thing, but he was tired.

That eyebrow twitched in his direction.

Oh.

“Just dropping in for a home visit. That last situation was a rough one.”

“I’m fine, Virgil.” He pushed past his brother. “Just need some sleep.”

“Uh-huh.”

John rolled his eyes as he pushed himself out into the ring, his feet lightly landing in the low gravity environment. He strode across cahelium reinforced glass. “If you’re going to order me back to Tracy Island, I rather you didn’t.”

Virgil was obviously following him, the soft squeak of his specialised boots on the glass a not unfamiliar sound. “Haven’t even thought about it. Just wanted to drop by and see how you were going.”

“At two in the morning.”

“I’m a night owl.” He could feel his brother’s smile bounce off the back of his head.

John grunted as he reached the doors to his rooms. He turned to his brother standing behind him. “I’m going to get cleaned up. Back shortly.”

“Scott says debrief in the morning, but I would like to check you over before bed.”

“Really?” It was whiney and childish, and he earned that extra eyebrow arch, but damnit, he was tired.

“Really.” And there was just that touch of steel in Virgil’s voice. Not quite the same as Scott’s commander tone, but just as final. “Don’t make me come in there after you.”

“Fine.” He threw open the door and wished he could slam it behind him with all the petulance he felt right now.

Virgil didn’t answer, nor did he follow him.

It only took a moment or two for the guilt to sink in and John was faced with the fact that Virgil was worried about him. He climbed up into orbit, into space which he didn’t enjoy, to check on his little brother, only to encounter …John.

He let his head drop against the glass of his bedroom wall. Because of the lower gravity, his forehead did not hit with any of the thump he needed it to.

A sigh. He would apologise, but first he needed to get clean.

-o-o-o-

It was a bit longer than he had expected when he finally emerged from his rooms, but he felt just a little bit more human for the clean and new spacesuit.

Time also helped. His head had been caught up in rescue gone bad. Those few extra minutes helped him step back and breathe.

Virgil wasn’t outside his door, which, considering he’d likely left him with the impression he might have to hogtie John to get the readings he needed, was a surprise.

“Eos, where is Virgil?”

“In the infirmary. John, do you like pineapple?”

He frowned, heading in the direction of the small room set aside for medical needs on the gravity ring. “Yes, why?”

“Even if it is on pizza?”

“Uh, no. Pineapple should never be put on pizza.” He frowned as he slipped into the infirmary. “Have you been talking to Gordon?”

“Yes, and he is most emphatic that pizza should include pineapple in its toppings.”

“Gordon has issues.”

Virgil snorted. “That he does.” His brother looked up as John entered. Apparently, he was doing a medical supply inventory.

He had removed his baldric and harness, and was standing in his overalls-styled uniform without his usual green. It wasn’t right.

As if sensing John’s affronted senses, Virgil frowned. “You okay?”

John shrugged and sat down quietly, and obediently, on the small bed. “You need the green.”

Virgil looked down at himself, wrinkling his nose. “I do feel kind of naked.”

“So why did you take it off?”

“Didn’t need it. Need the suit for safety, but didn’t want to clink every time I moved.” He pulled the medscanner out of it protective sleeve on the bulkhead.

John held up a hand. “Sorry about before. I-“

Virgil put a hand on his arm. “Nothing. Been there, it’s not fun. Understandable.” And that was the end of that.

Virgil gently pushed John’s arm down to his side and began waving the scanner over John’s body.

Ten seconds later he turned off the scanner. “You’re good. Could do with some food, drink and sleep, but everything else is fine. You don’t even have any bruises.” A gentle smile. “You’re good, John.”

“Thank you.” There was a double meaning there, good in health and a compliment on a good job done. “And thank you for coming all the way up here. I could have saved you the trip.” He did know how to use the medscanner, after all.

“There is more to your health than what that scanner can tell me.” Virgil eyed him as he put the device away. “Besides, I like to see my all my brothers from time to time.”

“The time, Virgil. You should be in bed.”

Then as if to throw John completely out of whatever universe he was currently in, Alan bounded through the door. “Virg, it’s working. All ready to go.” His littlest brother looked up. “Oh, hey, John.” And he darted out as fast as he had entered.

“What?” The word burst out of his mouth. “How-?” He glared at Virgil. “What’s going on?”

But Virgil just straightened and smiled. “J Protocol.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” Virgil strode past him and pushed open the door. “Come with.”

John found his mouth open and had to shut it. “Virgil-“

“Nope.” His brother waved an arm towards the door. “C’mon.”

Instinctively, John knew that if he didn’t move, Virgil would start on more drastic transport options. After all, John had seen his heavy lifting brother throw Scott over his shoulder in exasperation.

Virgil always got his way eventually.

John let his shoulders drop and walked through the door.

This time he felt like stomping instead of slamming, but the same emotion was behind both.

“Virgil, I’m fine.”

His brother nudged him forward as he shut the door behind them. “Good. Keep it that way.”

“But-“

A strong arm wrapped around his shoulders. “John, you need this.”

“I-“

But his brother herded him through the airlock into the central hub of Thunderbird Five.

The sphere was full of brothers.

And pizza boxes.

Scott was sitting cross-legged like some kind of suspended Buddha, poking at his phone. Gordon was upside down chattering non-stop to Alan who was the right way up - there was no ‘up’ in space, but there definitely was an ‘up’ on Thunderbird Five, despite the lack of gravity in her central hub - and conversing with an ease that spoke of extensive space experience.

An irrational sense of pride of his littlest brother swelled John’s heart.

All at once the three brothers realised John was in the room.

“Johnny! Welcome to the party!”

Alan flipped midair in an obvious over-the-top move to land right next to John. “Hey, John, way until you see what we’ve done.”

John frowned. “What have you done?” They better not have messed with his ‘bird.

But Scott had unfolded and was narrowing in on John with a frown. He didn’t say anything, just glanced a question at Virgil who gave him a nod.

His two eldest brothers were irritating when they did that, especially when the non-verbal conversation was obviously about him.

Scott reached out and gently clasped John’s arm. “Good job out there today.”

Yesterday, technically. “What are you all doing up here?”

“Pizza party!” Gordon’s eyes were glowing with glee.

“At 2.30 in the morning?”

Scott shrugged. “Sometimes pizza is just needed.” And there was something in his big brother’s eyes.

Goddamnit, he was fine.

But then Scott gently pulled him into a hug. It wasn’t tight, just a wrap of his arms around John, his head resting, just touching John’s shoulder.

The room was oddly silent.

And John found himself leaning into the hug. His brother’s caring touch etching into his skin, drawing him in deeper, feeding a need he hadn’t realised he had.

His head fell quietly onto Scott’s shoulder. The moment it touched, his brother’s grip tightened just a fraction before loosening again…so, so gentle.

Oh god.

But then Scott was equally as gently pulling away, blue eyes eyeing him as if unsure how he would react. Perhaps gauging his next move.

A big hand landed on his back and its partner wrapped around Scott’s shoulder. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.” Virgil nudged himself between them, aiming for the huge pile of floating boxes.

The moment snapped and the world started moving again. Gordon and Alan joined Virgil with the boxes, happily discussing toppings…which ultimately led to the ongoing war between yes-pineapple and no-pineapple on pizza.

Gordon was never going to win that one, outvoted four to one, but he was a determined fish and kept up the battle at every chance.

It was a familiar sound of home.

Blue eyes were still staring at him. Saying so much unsaid.

“Hey, Johnny, me and Virg set up something cool for you.” Alan was bouncing as much as he could in a zero-g environment.

It forced John to look away from Scott. “What have you done?”

“Virgil said he wanted to set you free, but keep you safe, so we did this.” Alan poked at his wrist control.

And the hub walls disappeared.

What?

All his brothers, the stack of pizza, the random slice of pepperoni that chose that moment to drift through his eyeline - all of it, and them, was floating above the night side of Earth with nothing around them.

Thunderbird Five was gone.

His breath caught in his throat. “How?”

Virgil was smiling as he gazed at the view, pizza slice in hand. “A few more sensors on her hull, improved communication with the holoprojectors, and a little bit of programming by Alan, and you have your own space-themed holodeck.”

He stared at the lights of Auckland and Sydney. “You built me a holodeck?”

“Isn’t it cool?!” Alan was definitely bouncing.

John nodded. “Yeah, it’s cool.”

“This is the default view. It draws directly from Five’s exterior sensors. What you see here is what you’d see if we were outside. But I did add a few of my favourites for you and tweaked the input from your telescopes.”

Alan poked at his wrist control and Earth vanished.

It was replaced with a view of the Andromeda Galaxy. They were staring down at a sea of swirling stars surrounded by the deepest darkness.

“It’s not interactive, though. The processing power required for this resolution is huge and Five does have a much larger program it needs to keep safe.” He looked up for a moment, but when there was no response, Alan warily turned his attention back to John. “If you want to add more views, we’ll need to up Five’s storage. We should probably do that anyway. Never hurts to have more storage.”

“Says the video game addict.” Gordon snorted.

“Hey, your holos of fish take up more room than my games.”

“Are you kidding? Zombie death 16 pushed me onto external storage.”

“That was an accident.”

“How?”

“I may have put it on the house servers twice.”

“What? Did you delete it?”

“Of course I did.”

“Guys?” Virgil’s voice was ever so tolerant.

Gordon and Alan glanced at John. “Sorry.” It was a chorus of the both of them.

No, this was fine. It really was.

Andromeda glowed beneath them.

His family was…being his family.

And there was pizza.

He let himself float and closed his eyes.

The smell of toasted cheese and tomato sauce, peppers, that unique pizza smell.

His brothers talking quietly - Gordon and Alan still at it, but desperately trying to be quiet about it. John would look at digital storage options both for Tracy Island and Thunderbird Five tomorrow.

At the moment…

A soft touch to his shoulder and Virgil was offering him a slice of cheeseburger pizza, his favourite.

Scott had gone back to being aTracy Industries Buddha…until Virgil coasted past, snatched his phone out of his hand, and smoothly replaced it with a slice of pepperoni and cheese.

Scott’s protest was muffled by Virgil’s glare.

John bit into his pizza slice surrounded by his family and an amazing projection of his second favourite galaxy.

Yes, he liked to be alone.

But he also loved his family.

And they loved him enough to follow him.

-o-o-o-

[toska-writes]

Clone commandos request if possible. 😁 Could you do delta squad. where on a mission they get captured along with the Padawan, and get protective when they try to separate them or interrogate them.

So i thought about writing a fic based on todays bad batch episode (but I need to get some of the requests done- if you wanna request some Wolffe *wink wink* that’s ok)

“Got your back”

Summary: a mission goes south with the delta squad but they have your back

Paring: The delta Squad/ republic commandos x padawan!reader (PLATONIC OFC)

Warning: slight mentions of injury and imprisonment nothing too bad… the most scary- not proofread

Word count: 1688

Notes: Delta Squad fics are not my “most popular” but ones I always do so much for and I don’t know why

Also I swear to god someone asked to join the Taglist but I can’t remember nor find it so let me know!

"Can you focus for one second Scorch? EVER?" Fixed screamed through the comms, you could see his tense movements from a mile away as the squad ducked once again behind a wall.

Boss could only nod this head, he quickly spun around from where you, Sev and him were hiding to shoot an incoming droid.

"Sorry Scorch I can't defend you this time it's not looking good." You spoke between gasp of your own breath, the adrenaline from the long hours fighting wearing on you and the whole group.

Sev leaned heavily on Fixer from where you could see him, though Scorch as of now was doing a good job covering them.

"Boss," You yelled over the hiss of a smoke bomb going off- the contents of which were going in your eyes and making you cough. "I'm all out of ideas here."

The comando spared you a glance for a second, you feared what his face would have looked like if his helmet was discarded.

Boss looked down at the padawan for a moment. A thin cut ran along their cheek way too close to their eye for Boss’s comfort. He watched their head whip around looking through the fog desperately before a huge bang went off.

After a moment of slight ringing Boss felt the bump of another person against his side. The padawan looked around frantically for the force of the bomb before looking up to the comando.

In a more solemn voice they asked. “Boss what are we gonna do?”

Boss thought about their options then. Backed into the corner of what should have been an abandoned outpost, on of their men injured and the rest ready to collapse from exhaustion. He as a leader thought he was better than this but Boss felt as if he walked his squad right into this trap.

“The missions easy enough for us.” Boss had said only hours before. A knot sat in his stomach but the team needed an easy mission, a break from their last fiasco with the bugs.

He’s never been more wrong in his life.

While he was lost in thought, Boss nearly missed Scorch sliding up next to their leader, his panicked voice tried to fill Boss’s ears.

For a moment the other comando didn’t realize the trooper in yellow was talking until Scorch made a shhh gesture with his hand.

That’s when you noticed it too, the complete lack of noise. No more clanker chatter or blaster bullets from each side. Just the low hiss of the fog that didn’t seem to die down.

You opened your mouth to say something before the unmistakable scraping of metals filled your ears.

“Rollies! get down!” Scorch shouted pulling you and Boss to the floor with him. About 5 Droidekas emerged from the smoke…. Lucky you guys.

“Scorch handle them.” Boss yelled using his hands to signal something at Fixer and Sev at the speed of light. His gruff tone scratched your ears but you all seemed pretty fed up at the situation.

Blaster bullets were blocked by your lightsaber left and right until the next words made your heart drop all together. “Out of hand grenades sir.” Scorch ripped his blaster out now but the shields were too strong on the droids.

“Down the hall!” Fixer yelled as both He and Sev passed the 3 of you, a way out hopefully planned.

You felt them before you saw them, you tried skidding to a stop before turning into the next hall as a hand shot out to grab Boss.

“Shit.” Was the only thing you could say, before they could question what you meant a group of comando droids emerged with guns drawn.

“You’ve got to be joking me.” Sev rasped out, his arm shook while he tried to lift his blaster up and fire. The tiredness leaked off of him though you were sure it did for everyone.

A ring of blue light hit the wall behind you. It didn’t make sense though, comando droids weren’t the type to show mercy.

Your lightsaber flashed along the darkened walls trying to keep the nimble droids away, why couldn’t the separatists just send the normal clankers.

Once again the hall was engulfed in a think smoke. You heard more blasters going off but you feared you were getting more and more disoriented. After a moment you heard a sickening thunk next to you and you assumed the worst.

In the blink of an eye you felt the blast hit its mark and half your body go limp. Unlike the bulking clones you were with it only took about 2 hits before you were out.

•✩•

Boss was the first one to awaken. His head bobbed around and his eyes fluttered open. Boss reached his hand up only to finally realize that his armor was gone.

He laid there for a moment, confusion laced his face. What had happened to him? To them….

In a split second Boss shot up to a sitting position , which his head greatly protested, and looked for the rest of his squad.

Relief was one of the best things in the galaxy in this moment. In the dim light of the ray shield keeping them in Boss could count the 3 other comandos and the form of their padawan knocked out next to Scorch.

Sev still looked bad as now Boss could get the full view of his gash along his side- the blacks on all of the men seemed to be tattered.

Boss observed their surroundings for a moment before giving a light tap to Fixer on the foot. When that didn’t work the first time a much hard kick was implemented.

Fixer gasped awake along with Scorch after a “friendly” tap from the clone comando.

I didn’t take Scorch long before he leaned back against the wall and groaned, clearly he knew the situation at hand.

Boss could only stare for another second at Sev, guilt rummaged through his insides as he helped his injured brother up ultimately waking him as well. This was his fault and Boss couldn’t shake that.

“Fixer start working on those bindings.” Boss ordered unable to keep his gaze on the unconscious padawan. Clearly to the eyes of their captors the Jedi was the bigger threat.

Sev hissed for a moment now finding a new brother to lean on.

You came to with the feeling of someone’s exposed hands brushing against your arms. The pounding in your head was present but the blanket of confusion was much scarier.

“Thanks for joinin’ us.” The unmistakable voice of scorch chimed in. Your eyes strained against the darkness but you could tell what the problem was.

The cool metal hurt your wrists as Fixer fiddled with them muttering a small apology every once in a while.

Boss’ low voice filled the cell, plans of just how they would get out to fight another day. Your eyes scanned the worrisome group.

Scorch sat fidgeting with his hands trying desperately to listen but you could see the worry in his eyes as clear as day.

Fixer sat in front of you cursing and apologizing but he just couldn’t seem to do anything useful without his tools and data pad.

Sev’s eyes closed everyone once in a while and you could see the fight to remain in the moment, though his scowl never seemed to be wiped off.

And finally Boss. His voice was level and low just like the countless other times you heard him give directions, however this time was different. He knew this wasn’t in their favor and he was worried beyond belief.

Someone had to stay strong for them all.

Your heartbeat beat out of your chest, a dull throb started in your temples the feeling seemed vaguely familiar.

“I think someone’s coming.” For the first time you were unsure in the force. Fixer faltered for a moment before meeting your eyes. “It’s probably these. Messing with you.” He shook the bindings.

Though to your surprise, and relief in a way, someone did make their way down the hall. Boss spoke out quickly as you averted your gaze, sweat started to form on your brow.

“We need a medic.” It was hard to call it pleading despite where Boss said it from his position on the floor, but it was definitely more of a demand.

2 masked figures approached though they seemed to ignore Boss all together.

“We need the Jedi.” The cool voice stated only once.

Everyone seemed to freeze for a moment unsure about which group would make the first move.

“Get up.” Was demanded at you and you glanced around meeting Boss’ eyes for only a moment before you gripped onto the sleeve of Fixer.

The ray shield was down now and the larger figure stepped in. “I’m not asking again”

“Like kriff they’re going with you.” Scorch stood in front of you now. His full height filled up their line of sight.

“Move clone.” For a second Scorch was pushed back that was until Boss stood as well and shoved their captor away from his brother.

Before the other could react with their blaster Scorch was all over them. Fixer taking the hint that their time was now scrambled to get their other brother still on the floor.

Your eyes were blown wide with the loud alarm that was set off. You felt someone grab your arm as you were still in a little daze.

“I hope you didn’t think we were really gonna let them take ya.” Scorch said as the group rushed down the halls.

You thought about that for a moment, had there truly been something to worry about while you were surrounded but the Delta Squad, your brothers?

A smile broke out of your face and Scorch seemed to get your reply.

“I hope you know.” Scorch called over his shoulder. “You’re never picking the missions by yourself again Boss.”

An angry yell was heard from somewhere behind you replacing the fear in your body with a laugh. “You were the one to pick the bug mission Scorch!”

______________________________

Taglist:

@arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu @verybadatwriting @solstraalaa @ray-rook @gregorsmissingarmor

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

Eventually I might write an entire thesis on all the ways Tech shows that he loves and cares deeply about his family; but for now, here's a slightly shorter essay focusing on how Tech dealt with Echo's departure in "The Crossing." 

One of the main themes of this episode is how different people deal with loss/goodbyes, and this is illustrated particularly well by the contrast between Omega and Tech (Hunter and Wrecker are basically the middle ground). Omega, of course, is vocal about how much she misses Echo and initially misinterprets Tech's attitude as him "not caring" that "everything's changing," but it's precisely Tech's attitude and actions that show how much he DOES care.

Tech is fully aware of Echo's absence

Tech relays right away that Echo's comms are off - meaning he had to have been in contact with Echo (or at least tried to contact him) since their parting. He is also the first to propose that the assignments for the mission might need to be adjusted due to Echo's absence leaving them "one man down."

Tech compartmentalizes Echo's departure within the same framework as Crosshair's departure.

I'm inclined to believe he does this because this is how he's able to accept this specific type of change. Of course there are differences between the two - one of which being that Crosshair left on barely civil terms after making it clear he had a hard time accepting that the squad could have different life goals/opinions without being enemies, while Echo left on good terms and made it clear he'd return - but ultimately both brothers left because the pull to pursue a different objective was greater than the call to stay with the family. And while Tech later admits this "can be difficult to understand" - which is likely why he acts as he does at other points in the episode - he understands and respects their decisions at least well enough to know he needs to carry on.

Tech is extra tetchy with the others for most of the episode - and this is NOT typical for him.

Tech has always been dry and blunt, sometimes seemingly emotionless ("seemingly" being the operative word), and he's not shy in expressing his opinions; but rarely has he ever crossed the line into being rude and blatantly argumentative with his squadmates as he is here. For example: in "Aftermath," Wrecker and Tech have a brief exchange during the battle simulation where Tech points out that maybe Wrecker should learn the hand signals and Wrecker gets a touch defensive; but rather than the issue blowing up into a major disagreement, Tech translates the hand signals for Wrecker and they move on. In "The Crossing," however, Tech gets irritated that Wrecker didn't notice the Marauder being stolen, and he just won't let it go. He then gets a bit sharp with Omega when she presses the subject of Echo's departure, telling her "What is your issue?" (He might have inadvertently said borderline insensitive things before, like "Perhaps the situation is not as dire as described. Children often overreact"; but as far as we've seen he has never singled out Omega as the subject of these observations and has never been curt with her.)

Omega, of course, gets frustrated with Tech, primarily because she doesn't see Tech's behavior for what it is: an indication that Tech feels the loss just as much as she does, even if he doesn't express it the same way.

Tech accepts Hunter's and Wrecker's criticism that he has handled things poorly with Omega, and when she finally tells him exactly what is bothering her about his behavior, he takes the time to put his feelings into words

Tech has been more irritable than usual, but he still cares about his family enough to notice when he's gone too far, accept correction, and do his best to smooth things over. He doesn't quite seem to know at first how to approach the topic with Omega so things can be smoothed over; but when she opens up to him, he is silent for a long time as he ponders how best to explain himself to her, rather than brushing aside and avoiding what is obviously a difficult conversation for him but an important one for her.

And thus we get one of my top favorite scenes along with one of my top favorite quotes in the entire Star Wars franchise:

"Echo chose a different path, as did Crosshair. I have to respect their decision. Even though it can be difficult to understand, we must carry on. I may process moments and thoughts differently, but it does not mean that I feel any less than you."

[dapper-lil-arts]

So uh. My freelance work here is kind of dying.

I thought i'd keep my long-term followers on the know-how, so i might as well write about my current circumstances here, give y'all an update, so to speak.

So, for several reasons, most of them not even my fault, i've been getting less and less commissions, almost none, actually, and the ones i get are usualy on the cheaper side, which is bad concidering that this is my livelihood, commission money pays my bills, my groceries, and my taxes, and now i sure as hell am strugling to imagine this will sustain me for long. Twitter is a sinking ship ever since elon went over, Specificaly for people like me. I had just broken into 12k followers there, a huge milestone for me, and then i got shadowbanned, and for the last few months i've gotten *nothing*. It's completely dead, i'm stagnated there, all my arts are censored, and there's no way for me to undo it or fix it, and so i've gotten less and less comms out there, which sucks because its the only reason i was even on that stupid site. Here on tumblr, meanwhile, the CEO went on a massive transphobic streak, and a lot of lgbt folk (which composed a lot of my following,) decided to jump ship, and i sure as hell dont blame them, but sadly that's more potential costumers that bailed, and there's no proper website to go to. Anywhere i'd go, i'd be starting from scratch again, which would be utterly disheartening and frustrating, and there no website that is kind to artists, with no algorythim, that also have a messaging system (the latter being ESSENTIAL to the way i do comms) So i'm kind of stuck. I just. have nowhere to go, and nothing to do. And last but not least, my own fault, I've just been drawing and creating what *I* specificaly want, on an hedonistic streak this year. That's why theres so much pony bs on this blog now, and why i was straight up posting poetry a while back, and have written hundreds upon hundreds of fanfiction pages in the last few months; Which, unfortunately, is a terrible business decision if your intent is making money. Which I surely should have prioritized, but in the end, its not up to me, its up to the costumers... So now i'm a bit stuck. I've enjoyed the things ive drawn and written more than anything i've ever done, and yet, i've never been less successful on the actual business side. I'm still considering my venues, my possibilities, but there's not many. Trying to get a job would certainly pull me away from creation, and i'd hate it regardless of what it was, and on another venue, theres no guarantee that going back to furry titties would bring me money.

and that's whats heartbreaking about it too. no matter how much effort i put on my work, theres no guarantee of sucess, so why even spend time trying to craft a masterpiece? why not just follow trends and make a tiktok account or whatever the fuck makes money these days. I'd rather not, frankly. And i wont. Well, that's about it. Thanks for reading this update, that's how my life is goin atm. i'm going to continue doing as i am right now, but yknow... I'm not sure what i should do, if you want to give me suggestions, feel free.

[oddballwriter]

HEYAA. I’ve been so obsessed with ur MK stuff lately it’s insane. Wondering if I could request a little blurb with Steven? 🙏 Maybe artistic reader who uses Steven as a muse of sorts? 🎨 Maybe Steven finds reader’s sketches of him and Reader is like embarrassed 😨 that he may be uncomfortable with it? Add and change up anything you’d like!! 😽 ur my fav writer thank you 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼❤️❤️

Your Drawings Look like Heaven to Me

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Summary: Steven always enjoys your drawings and art, big or small, painting or simple sketch and doodle. But he's a bit surprised when he discovers that you have a habit of drawing a certain muse that you have. 

Warnings: There's nothing that I can actually thing of other than it's mentioned that the reader draws Steven when he's unaware, but I don't think it's that bad. Also 'Y/n' is used once. 

Author’s Snip: This was meant to be just a little blurb but I got the writing equivalent of zoomies. You asked for a cookie and I made you a cake with layers, frosting, and toppings. This is insane how did I do this. I think it's because I've been drinking a monster while writing this. I have paused the video that I was previously watching in the background because I am so focused. I'm not even joking this shit is 1517 words long and that is before I proof and grammar checked it. I think this might be the longest writing I've done thus far. Enjoy your free cake, anon.

Notes: This is written in the lens of a world where it's just Steven, so none of the actual events in the show happen.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Steven always knew you drew. You met at your jobs at the museum, at the time, you were working the front desk while he of course worked at the gift shop. The two of you weren't all too familiar with each other since you only saw each other in passing. You knew him as Steven from the gift shop, and he knew you as Y/N from the front desk. You did learn more details through others. Steven was a chatty guy who had an impressive knowledge about Egyptology and mythos. And you were the person at the front desk who did nothing but sit there and draw all day when not granting visitors entry, or in most cases, taking a second to scan a preprinted ticket and check the schedule.

Steven heard talk that you were really talented in your art. You were able to draw what were basically pictures of things you saw or even made up. He hadn't seen your actual art till one day he found you sat where he usually did for lunch, drawing the statue man that he talked at everyday. And wow, were they right about how well you could draw. Though while you talked to each other you laughed "Well of course I'm able to draw him perfectly. He doesn't move.".

That lunch break was a long time ago. You two started dating between then and now. Steven managed to leave the museum for a new one that actually let him be a tour guide. You eventually managed to find work that let you use your skills in art instead of using it to beat the boredom of your job. And you also moved in with Steven in his little flat, in which he cleared out some of this clutter to make a space for you to work and make your own.

You would draw little doodles for Steven to have. Like Gus swimming around. An Egyptian god that you made using his books as a reference. You even drew him a little alligator with a speech bubble saying "Later" on a sticky note. He still has it by the way. He laminated it using clear tape and has it in his wallet as a pick-me-up when he's upset or as a lucky charm of sorts. You always made drawings for him. But never once had he thought that you would make drawings of him. Let alone how many drawing you made of him.

Steven isn't a man who likes to snoop around regularly, feeling a massive sense of ruining someone's privacy. But you said that he could always look through your sketchbooks and art pieces if he wanted, as long as it wasn't a commission that was still being worked on, which he respected. You, like any other artist, had a plethora of sketchbooks of different sizes that served different purposes. There were your personal sketchbooks, outline and testing sketchbooks, practice sketchbooks, a lot of sketchbooks with a lot of different things they were for. It amazed him just how many you had and how you were able to remember which is which.

He knew which ones were ones he gifted you though. Steven was never confident when it came to gifting you supplies. He wasn't an artist himself so he didn't know what was perfect and what was something you would say thank you for out of courtesy. One of the things he used as a safe play were sketchbooks. The bookstore he frequented had a section of art stuff and found that the sketchbooks were not only great quality but also had various designs on their covers. So he'd get you one almost every time he went.

When he looked at them on the shelf next to your desk he realized that he had never actually seen inside of those ones. He was a bit hesitant to grab one since he didn't know if you would want him to. It's not like he could ask you right now. You were out running some important errands and he didn't want to bother you. However, they were on the part of the shelf that you put all your regular personal sketchbooks, which he was allowed to look at so he took a one random from the collection and flicked through the pages.

Out of some coincidence, it was the first sketchbook he got you, which was admittedly one he got you before he learned what pages were good for actual art. The first few pages were doodles that were likely from testing how the paper held up with the actual process of drawing which soon stopped and the rest of the art was actually taped on like they originally belonged to another sketchbook.

Steven thought of that as a clever use for the pages. You would sometimes make art you thought was nice on miscellaneous papers and would simply take the piece with the art out and stick it somewhere else. But he soon notices a theme amongst all the doodles and drawings, which then follow into all of the other sketchbooks he gifted you.

Him.

Most of the drawings in these sketchbooks were of him.

They were all different. Some were him lounging around or taking a nap. Something that would have made him unaware of you creating a drawing of him. There was one that was him asleep laying in bed from what would be your side of the bed. His face was calm, the limpness of his arms and body was captured perfectly, the sheets drawn with the most accurate wrinkles, and the lighting gave the impression of the light of the morning that came in through the curtains. It looked like you simply took a picture of him while he slept but it was clearly a sketch drawn using a pen and pencil.

There was these bust and face portraits that spanned through out the books, of course of him. The first were already so good in detail considering these had to be drawings of him from memory. But they only got more detailed as they went on. You managed to get his amount of stubble right. You had the little baby curls that lived along his hair line. The crease between his eyebrows he had since he always had a slight anxious expression. That tiny little dimple that he had next to his nose that he didn't know existed until you pointed it out one time.

Steven's mind was boggling to him to see such detailed drawings of him that looked so carefully done even when they were simply quick sketches. They were life-like. They were him. They were Steven. To be honest, how could it not? You see his face all the time. So why wouldn't you have him completely memorized. It was just the fact that you had taken time and pages to draw him and him alone.

It was a bit jarring, for the both of you, when you walked through the front door with a hand full of groceries and other things from your errands and he was seen looking at all the drawings of him. You were embarrassed that he finally saw all your drawings of him and worried that he would think it was weird. He thought that he crossed a line and breached your privacy.

You two avoided talking about it till Steven finally did during dinner later that evening.

"You, uh, draw me... a lot." Steven spoke. "Yeah. I do." you blush as you avoided eye contact in case his eyes showed that your fear of him finding your habit with drawing him was strange was correct. "Why do you draw me so much?" he questions. You sighed, "It's sort of a habit I formed." you confess. You proceeded to explain how it started,

"I first drew you as an exercise to get rid of some art block. I usually draw faces of people I know as a means to do that. So I drew you. It was okay. But when I looked at it a couple days later I thought that I could do it again to improve on detailing some more. Then I used you as a study for lighting and colors.".

"Then, sometimes, I would just draw you when I thought you looked pretty or thought of you. And that's sort of what I've been doing." you explain further. "I thought you would find it weird if you saw all the times I drew you and so I just put them in the books you got me and hoped you wouldn't see them." you say in a timid manner.

"I don't think it's strange. I think it's actually quite flattering." Steven clarifies. "I was just surprised that you think of me as something worth drawing. Especially with such detail." he remarks. You breathe a sigh of relief at that.

"If I'm entirely honest, love," Steven spoke up, "Never tell me that you're drawing me from where I am. I'll get nervous and possibly ruin the position that you're drawing me in." he remarks.

[darkworkcourier]

i have a request: after realizing the reader has a crush on him ghost teases her, at first just by gazes, later by words and touched and eventually makes her come by rubbing her trough her panties

so i'm working on a follow-up to this fic where ladybird gets railed in a hotel (like she deserves), but this prompt inspired me to get her into the mile high club. this is shorter than what i'm used to writing, but i hope you like it! :D

contains: through-the-panties fingering, quickies in the bathroom discussion of public sex, and price being way too into nature documentaries.

---

The 141 is flying coach, and—in a word—it sucks.

There's a reason, like always. You're all assigned to carefully monitor a red-eye flight from Boston Logan Airport to London Gatwick on trusted intelligence regarding a potentially dangerous agent onboard. You've read the file (now six going on seven times, nearly beating out how many times you've read the in-flight magazine and the safety card), knowing that this agent—known informally and hilariously as Red Sox—is Kastovian. She's posed as a Bostonian businesswoman for months now, and your instructions are to confirm her role in a recent cybersecurity incident at an international bank. With any luck, you'll get the evidence and have her arrested the moment she gets off the plane.

Until then, you're stuck in the middle seat of the middle aisle in a 787, fighting with a granola bar that refuses to open, half-watching whatever godawful action movie Soap's entertained by on his in-flight screen. He's enjoying himself, though, feeding himself a package of peanuts with the gusto of a man eating caviar.

At least someone's having fun.

Gaz and Price are four rows ahead of you, and Gaz has the luck to have a window seat. You've walked by them twice as you've gone to the lavatory out of sheer boredom. It's all sunshine, roses, Netflix, and podcasts up there, apparently. Sure, they have eyes on Red Sox, but apparently it's much more important for Price to finish his nature documentary ("Jesus Christ, have you seen how much a whale shits? Nature's incredible!") before you all do your jobs.

Ghost is the luckiest, you think. He's in business class, with leg room and hot towels and a seat that isn't actively trying to fold him up like he's in a mousetrap. He's also closest to Red Sox, quietly muttering through the comms whenever she gets up or gets something from one of the flight attendants. He sounds bored as hell, though.

"She's getting a— bloody fucking hell, who gets decaf coffee on a red eye?" Ghost grumbles through your headset. His voice is low, sending tingles through your body and making you wish he was next to you instead of Soap—currently guffawing in every sense of the word at something in his stupid movie.

You hear Gaz snort. "Who gets decaf, period? Gross."

There's a brief pause before you hear Price's awestruck voice. "Did you fucking know that killer whales can chomp a penguin in half? What the actual fuck? Why do we keep these little bastards in zoos?"

"The penguins or the orcas?" Gaz asks, even though he's sitting right next to Price and probably looking at his phone screen. Then, he confirms he is when he utters a disgusted, "Oh, nasty. Why are they showin' that on a documentary?"

At the same time, Soap slaps his knee like a grandpa, nudging you in the ribs with his elbow before snickering and gesturing to his screen where a man is yelling at... you think it's a goat. No way to know what that has to do with exploding cars or paragliding.

You lean back in your seat and groan, rubbing your eyes. "Ghost, please tell me you're having a semi-productive night," you say.

"If by 'productive', you mean carefully analyzing dinner choices and how many copies of 'Tatler' this woman brought with her, then sure," he responds dryly.

"Beef or chicken?"

"Fish," he says.

"Oh, she's definitely a spy," Gaz says. "Decaf and fish. There's something wrong with her."

That's the sum total of your work so far. You briefly glance at the time on the screen in front of you—you still have four and a half hours.

For lack of anything better to do, and abandoning your fight against the granola bar, you turn your focus back to the main object of your thoughts for the past few months. It's not easy to think of Ghost while you're crammed in a tiny seat and sandwiched in between Soap and a snoring British businessman, but you let your mind wander a little bit in Ghost's direction.

Since your crush came to light, he's opened up to you, allowing you to get close enough until you felt tidally locked to him. He's shown you Simon Riley, Manchester born and bred, with a love of bourbon, vinyls, and old camping equipment that he collects the same way people gather stamps or glassware. He's revealed all sorts of quirks and tells, drawing you in further, yet keeping just enough distance for the sake of professionalism.

But for days before this flight, Ghost's teased you relentlessly, in ways you never expected from him—glancing touches on your shoulders and back as he passes you in the hallway, pressing his thigh against yours when you do manage to sit next to him at a meeting, fingers brushing against yours when you pass something to him or vice versa. And he knows what he's doing, because Ghost never moves without intent. Every stray touch lights up your nerves like fairy lights, and he is completely aware of it.

Touches like that might not seem relentless, but in the gap between them are his words—again, carefully chosen. The man's got a way with double meanings and innuendos, all woven into his normal speech so well that no one seems to notice. He'll lock into eye contact with you, then say things to Price, Gaz, or Soap about erecting defenses or pointing the finger of suspicion. Bastard knows exactly what he's about. He knows it's been driving you crazy for weeks.

Those thoughts start to get something stirring in you, which is frankly a terrible thing to have happen on an airplane. Apparently, all your bad thoughts are mile-high ones, and before you start rubbing your legs together like a cricket for Soap to notice, you excuse yourself to the lavatory again.

Squeezing by Soap and his godforsaken tendency to manspread, you catch him grinning at you as he takes one of his AirPods out. "Goin' somewhere exciting, Ladybird?" he asks.

"Yeah," you say, gesturing to one of the emergency doors. "Thought I'd test one of those slides out."

"Oooh, fun," Soap says, all cheeky. His brows go up, and you feel what he's going to say before he says it. "Thought you'd be payin' a visit to a businessman up front. He seems lonely up there."

God, you wish.

You stand in the aisle beside Soap for a second, willing your legs to wake up and ignoring the wash of pins and needles through your skin. "Nah, I think he likes being by himself," you say. "Obviously he's not chomping at the bit to watch nature documentaries or visit with us."

"No," Soap agrees, tucking a hand behind his head and grinning up at you. "But I dinnae think he'd say no to you visiting him." At that, he wiggles his brows suggestively, then breaks into a wide smile that has you rolling your eyes.

"Yeah, no, I'm leaving now," you tell him, turning on heel to limp your way to the lavatory on a very wobbly-feeling right leg. You can hear Soap laughing at your back, and you think you hear the words 'mile high club'—better to ignore it.

The lavatory's full when you get there, so you lean against the wall and wait, arms crossed over your chest, fighting back a yawn. The plane wiggles with a little turbulence. Someone coughs nearby. Someone else turns off their overhead light.

Then the lavatory door opens and— yeah, that's Ghost looking down at you.

He's dressed in a disarmingly casual way. He's ditched the balaclava in favor of a black disposable mask and a beanie pulled down low. You're both pleased and distressed that you recognize his hoodie (one that you've stolen before to dart between his room and yours and briefly considered stealing for good), although the jeans are new.

In turn, he looks over you, a faint flicker of something in his eyes that makes a familiar, raw heat already start to form in your gut.

"Ladybird," he says with a nod.

"Ghost," you reply.

It feels like an old cowboy movie standoff, except there's less than a foot of room in between the two of you. Someone has to move—preferably him, because you kind of do need to use the lavatory now. There's a stretch of tension, of an invisible band being pulled before—

Ghost suddenly looks left, then right, and then his hand is on your wrist, tugging you back into the lavatory and closing the door behind you before you can even comprehend what's happened. As soon as the lock clicks into place, the overhead light blinks on, filling the tiny, tiny space with watery white light.

It smells like Clorox wipes and diapers, which is not conducive to anything sexy until Ghost is practically pressed up against you, an arm wrapped around your waist. In another too-quick movement, his mask is pulled down beneath his chin, and then his lips are on yours.

The kiss is hungry. His tongue finds yours immediately, and in between deep kisses, he catches your bottom lip between his teeth. It's ravenous—starving. His free hand goes up to your jaw, cupping your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye.

He kisses you like you haven't seen or touched each other in months. Like he's not the one keeping a perfectly professional distance, maintaining the hierarchy of command while torturing you with words and touches. Suddenly, the hand on your waist moves and goes up under your t-shirt, up and up over your stomach to your bra, fingers brushing over one rapidly-stiffening nipple while you moan quietly against his mouth.

For fuck's sake, Soap was right about the mile high club. You wouldn't be surprised if he texted Ghost the suggestion.

Ghost tilts his head back enough to talk, although you feel every syllable against your lips. "Wanna touch you," he mutters, half-lidded eyes flickering up to meet yours.

"Do it," you whisper back. The urgency is there, knowing you only have a short amount of time and the smallest bit of elbow room to work with.

The hand on your breast descends quickly, and with it, your body feels like it goes into an uncontrolled downward spin, dizzy with the thought of what you're doing. Ghost's hand slips under the band of your—

"Pajama pants? Really?"

You glare up at him, although all the heat is redirected southward. "They're comfy, and it's a long flight," you retort.

He breathes out a laugh that fans over your cheek before he kisses you again, just as his fingers go down and rub against your cunt through the thin cotton of your panties. It makes you gasp against him, even at a slight, barely-there touch. But his touch transmutes into something stronger and more insistent, rubbing your slit, the fabric helping to build friction.

"Oh, fuck," you whisper, staggering a little and leaning on his shoulder for support. You feel him press a finger against your clit, setting off a charge that darts lightning-quick up your spine. One of your hands claps over your mouth to stifle a moan.

Ghost laughs, a low rumble that seems to vibrate right through you, matching frequencies with the electricity currently pulsing through your whole damn nervous system.

"Been wantin' to do this all week," he mutters into your ear as his index finger slides over your clit.

Your voice fights to catch a foothold in your throat, hoisting itself up into your mouth in a strain. "I-in an airplane lavatory?" you manage, although the joke is lost on another moan that you have to hide in the fabric of his hoodie.

He hums this time, and it's almost thoughtful. "Sure," he says. His fingers slide back, pressing the soaked fabric of your panties against your opening in the most teasing way. You're tempted to just pull everything down and let him take you over the tiny stainless steel sink. But he goes on, "Back at base. Kitchen, office, common area. Don't really care."

Holy fuck, the idea of Ghost taking you in any of those places sends another little shock through your system and turns that inner coil tighter. You shudder, gasping as he rubs his fingers back and forth. You cling onto him, fingers in a vise grip on his hoodie, face tucked against his shoulder as he draws your climax up to the surface quicker than you've ever felt it rise.

"Wait until we get to London," he says, his voice low and hot in your ear. "I know at least five places where I can fuck you in view of a whole damn street an' no one will know we're there."

That promise alone and all the mental images it conjures are enough to send you right over the edge, burying your cry in fleece and shuddering against his hand as you rock your hips against him. You hear him whispering encouragements to you, to use him to get off, to come for him. You do, using all that friction and that sense of taboo of what you're doing now as a springboard for your pleasure. It's not the hardest you've come (and Ghost certainly has the honor of achieving that), but it's the fastest—almost embarrassingly quick. You hit the heights, the upper ceiling of your personal atmosphere, and try to catch your breath as you fall back into an oxygen-rich level.

Ghost draws his hand back while you lean on him for support as your legs threaten to give out entirely. You hear and feel him laugh again, and then he's pressing a rolled-up piece of toilet paper into your hand.

"Kind of soaked there, love," he says, and it's all fondness—maybe a little bit of pride.

"Who's fault is that?" you say, your voice hoarse and tired. Still, you make use of the paper, reaching in to wipe up at least some of the dampness. And—well, fuck, you're going to have to sit with that for another four hours. Gross.

Ghost presses a kiss to your temple, and you lean into it instinctively.

"I'll make it up to you in London," he promises.

You have a better idea.

---

You squeeze past Soap again, inwardly groaning as you sit down and feel dampness between your legs. It's three hours and forty-eight minutes until Gatwick. Three hours and forty-eight minutes of sitting in wet panties while trying to apprehend a criminal on a 787. Nevermind that your orgasm sent enough endorphins through your system to maybe get a good nap in.

Then, beside you, Soap laughs. You feel a tug on your sleeve, and look over to see him grinning at you.

"Nice hoodie," he says. "Is it new?"

You smile and nestle yourself into the fabric, still warm from Ghost's skin. "Sort of," you reply.