#rvb insert

“The storm's too dangerous,” comments the boy surrounded with throbbing pinks and purples. “The equipment won’t work.”

“Good point, Theta,” congratulates North over possibly the loudest sigh you've ever sighed in your life.

“What’re we gonna do,” you ask in despair, standing and pacing the space, feet kicking water. “We don’t have any food, map, working shelter; this is complete bull–”

“Bull poopy?” offers Theta, materialising in front of you. You smile despite your frustration, holding up a finger for him to high five.

“Bull poopy,” you accept.

“You’re a bad influence,” teases North, coming over and taking your hand in his. You pull a face, expression scrunching.

“I’m a great influence. Like, take our team for example. When I see them again I’m going to influence them so hard in the dam- darn teeth they’ll be shi- pooping teeth for a week.”

North offers an apologetic smile, stifling his amusement. “This is hard for you, isn’t it?”

“Don’t play with me.”

He backs off, holding his hands up in surrender at the sight of true anger. Theta casts him a worried and confused glance, but he smiles. “You wanna shut down for a bit, buddy? It’s past your bedtime.”

The AI pouts, kicking nonexistent stones. “Can’t I stay up? It’s a weekend.”

“Not on this planet it isn’t.”

With a noisy raspberry Theta flickers before fading away, the roaring rain filling the space with a freezing cold. You don’t want to turn to him, too infuriated, but his hands have other ideas. He shifts you gently, taking your face in his palms before searching your expression. You settle into the warmth, craving the comfort only he can provide.  

He seems to find what he’s looking for. “It’s not their fault.”

You frown, wrinkling your nose in disgust. Ruefully yanking away you return to your pacing, footplates sloshing through the steadily spreading puddles. “God damn it, North.” You’re shaking your head, bitter as he watches you. “Of course it’s their damn fault.”

“Y/N–”

“No,” you whirl, jabbing a finger in his direction. “Stop covering for them; stop lying down for them to step on you. They knew what they were doing when they got to extraction before radioing. They were already in the damn air before could hit the ground running.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but knows better. He remains quiet, letting you get it out of your system. Though you don’t know where to direct your anger, you persist, feeling it boil in your chest and bubble from your lips.

“I’m sick of it, North. I’m tired of not being able to trust our team mates cus there’s too desperate to compete and climb the fucking ladder. This is just what the director wants, for us to fight and follow orders than loyalties.” You sigh, falling onto your haunches, head in hands. “This is just what he wants.”

The storm takes over again; rain drops hitting your armour with soft plinks. North sighs, coming over to stand before you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You’re lucky the weathers knocked out the coms.” With a groan and click he’s sitting, staring out the window screaming in its frame. “You don’t give our friends enough credit.”

“You give the project too much.”

“I’m not talking about the project; I’m talking about the people. They’re still in there, and they’re going through the same as us.” He looks at you, reaching out to take your hand as you collapse with a groan to lean against the closest wall. “We can’t abandon them, because like you said, it’s ‘just what he wants.’”

“I have too many feelings.” Your voice is quiet, cracking with a roll of thunder.

Shuffling, North pulls you close with an arm winding around your waist. “You’ve got the right amount of feelings.”

“How do you still have hope?” you ask, curling into his side, legs hooking together and face buried in his neck. “Everything’s so fucked. I don’t know if we’re doing the right thing anymore, I don’t know whose side we’re on.”

“I know, Y/N,” he murmurs into your hair, “but we have to think of the people we love. I’d do anything for you, just like I’d do anything for them.” He smiles down, caressing your face with a thumb. “Well, maybe a little more for you.”  

“Your selflessness is going to get you killed.”

“I know.”

Prompts: 

1.      Could you do a Reader x North where they end up stranded on a planet after a mission goes awry and they take shelter has an issue with (this prompt literally just stops here. I dunno; so I made it up as I went.)

2.      I love your blog! ^^ Also, if the prompts are still open, would you mind doing a North and Reader fic? Anything is fine with me...I absolutely adore North...

3.      Heyo!! I know you're busy and all, so I'm just asking if you wanted to do this in your downtime, but do you think you could write some NorthxReader?? Anything really, its your choice. P.s. I love your writing and your blog!!

You wonder for a moment whether he will be there, for a moment doubtful of your bond. Your meetings go unspoken, occurring as a craving in the darkness of night. A longing for some human contact, for a silence that speaks of understanding, rather than judgement; a need for a friend. Your queries are answered, and you feel something that resembles a smile shift onto your face as you see him sitting and waiting, back to you; staring out of a large window, contemplating the stars. “Y/N?” he calls softly, turning slightly to the sound of your entrance. Your smile grows to something genuine, and you approach, sitting cross legged on the floor beside him. “Of course it’s you,” he chuckles distractedly, “No one else comes down here.”   “Why would they?” you ask, leaning your head against his knees, closing your eyes as you feel the comfort of another living soul connecting with your own. “I don’t know. Guess I expected some of the others to pass through, looking for something new.”   “We’re too busy being stuck in our old ways,” you mumble as he begins to run his fingers gently through your hair.

“I wonder what we’ll all do when this is over,” he ponders, almost to himself. You peak up at him, taking in the scar that severs his eyebrow, eyes passing over the blonde hair that remains a mess of sleepless nights. They settle on his gray eyes, of which are already looking expectantly into your own. “Wash,” you shrug a little, a noncommittal gesture. “I’m hoping that when this is all over, I’m dead.” You expect him to argue, perhaps gasp in horror, or scold you for such thoughts. But in his eyes, you see understanding. You recognise the emotions you wrestle with every day within him, and know from the bruises that encase his eyes that he feels the same way.

North runs himself down constantly, taking on the world’s problems without complaint, caring for all the freelancer’s as though they were family. We would always offer help with training, never would he have the last piece of anything; and was the designated shoulder to cry on when in need. You admire this of him, selfishly satisfied in finding someone who shared your ability to care almost too much. You understand the overwhelming feeling of empathy, and are far too familiar with solving other people’s problems to avoid your own. Sometimes he forgets to care for himself, buried in somebody else’s needs; and you can tell by the worry lines that crease across his brow that he has neglected to pay himself any notice. Reaching up a hand, you wrap your arm carefully around his broad shoulders, tracing your thumb against his arm soothingly. He sighs, and lets out a light chuckle.

“Let me guess” you sigh, watching the white walls, “South?” North chuckles, the tops of his ears turning pink. “I can explain” he says quickly, eyes widening in innocence. “Oh really?” he nods his head quickly, and you wait with a smirk, watching his face. “See, South has been having a... a difficult time. She’s slipping down the leader board” he comments, and you soften. “She feels as though she’s being blamed for every slip up” he continues, “and she’s getting reckless.” You remember South’s anger and the way the other members onboard the Mother of Invention shy away in fear. You recall the slits her eyes formed when she growls, and the way her body shakes in frustration. “You can’t control what she does, only advise” you note sadly, and he shakes his head. “North, listen to me, you can’t help people who don’t want to be helped.”     “She’s family, Y/N”     “And that means that she knows you’ll always be there. Sometimes that’s all someone needs.” He sighs, looking down at his hands in his lap.

“You haven’t been putting yourself first again, North” you comment, smiling wearily. He closes his eyes, resting his body against your own as you speak. Shaking his head, you see the faint tug at the corners of his lips, pulling into a guilty smile. “You caught me” he replies, pulling your free hand to his chest, almost cuddling it. “How many times do I have to remind you that I’m here to help?” you joke weakly, nudging him playfully with your shoulder, rocking the both of you gently. “Theta and I are worried” you continue, resting your cheek against his shoulder and looking up at him, the skin across his closed eyes a delicate purple. As if called, the space in front of you shivers to life, a young boy’s figure only a few inches tall now sitting cross legged at eye level before you; smiling nervously.  “Aren’t we, Theta?” your voice is soft, calming; and the boy nods slowly, watching North.

The man opens his eyes, smiling through his tired state at his A.I, letting go of your hand and offering it out to the boy. Theta looks at it, before crawling and pulling himself into his palm. “I didn’t mean to worry you, Theta” says North, moving the boy closer, allowing him to crawl onto his shoulder; where he sits and swings his legs between North’s face and your own. “I know” the boy admits, playing with his hands, “but I’m scared for you”. You smile, placing a hand gently on North’s knee, giving it a light squeeze. “Even Dad’s have to look after themselves” you say, “If they want to look after their family”

North looks at you, his blonde hair falling into his eyes. No other freelancer had grown so attached to their A.I like North had to Theta. His caring personality and need to protect had offered a place in his heart for the young boy, of who had taken it gladly. In this profession, the fighting is everything, and the possibility of family – let alone children – is strictly dwindling. North would have made a good father, and Theta is the closest he can get. You sweep away the hair, pushing them back from his face and back into place gently.

“I’m sorry,” North says again, looking at Theta, “I promise I’ll start paying attention to myself. We’ll go and get some new books tomorrow, if you’d like? I heard Four-seven-niner complain about a new shipment for the onboard library” You see the boy’s eyes light up, and can’t help but let out a breathy laugh as he jumps for joy. “Can we, please?” he asks in disbelief, “Because Delta was talking about this thing, and I really want to read about it!” North chuckles, eyes flicking to the clock on the wall. “Of course, but only if you go to bed and get some sleep.” Theta nods vigorously, before waving frantically at you. “Goodnight Y/N” he says cheerfully, and you wave back, bidding your farewell as he fades.

“Simmons?” you prompt again, unable to capture his attention. Frustrated, you make your way over to him, sitting in the centre of his bed with your legs crossed, watching him. It becomes apparent that he is ignoring you, and you wonder what possible book could steal away his politeness. He had always been kind, if not a little clumsy and nervous around you. You presume it must be a common reaction for him, as he always seems to struggle around women, you’d seen it with Tex, and even sister. Clearing your throat, you wait, watching as the muscles in his back tense under his maroon singlet.

Reaching out, you take an opportunity you had never thought possible, touching his back gently with your fingers. You hear a noise sneak from his lips, a sign of semi annoyance. Inching closer, you begin to trace patterns into his back, dragging your nails softly across his skin and shirt, hoping to distract him just enough for some form of conversation. He lets out a sigh after a few minutes, but does not look at you when he speaks. “I’m not going to stop reading, Y/N”, his voice steady. You smile, despite yourself, noticing the confidence in his tone. “Is that a challenge?” you reply deviously, your nails running across his ribs, causing him to shudder.

“Must be a good book” you note, shuffling closer, balancing on your knees and pressing your body against his back, peering at the pages. Resting your hand so that your fingers drape across his neck, you see his eyes close in frustration, his lips twitching into what you assume is a smile. “What’s it about?” you push, moving your arms to wrap them around his waist, fingers lingering on his stomach, chin resting on his shoulder. “Quantum physics” he says finally, one of his hands moving to grab yours, holding you still to stop the tickles that rush through his body. “Very boring,” he comments. “Not something you’d be interested in.” “On the contrary,” you inform, resting your cheek against his neck, a smug smile playing on your lips as his hand tightens impulsively on your own. “I happen to quite like physics”. He lets out a small breath, turning his head slightly to get a better look at you; not realising how close your face is to his own. His eyes widen as he sees you, eyes looking intently into his own; the freckles that litter across your nose catching his notice, having never been close enough to see them before. “Really?” he asks, incredulously. You let out an airy laugh. “Nah” you smile, “I’m more into chemistry”

He blushes deeply at your words, returning to his book, unsuccessfully trying t distract himself from you. With a smirk, you press your face into the crook of his neck, lips brushing against his skin as you speak. “Chemistry can be more intimate, don’t you agree?” he clears his through with a crack in his voice, and you can feel the quickening of his pulse against your soft lips. You let out a musical laugh, sitting back down, placing your legs on either side of his own, and tangling your feet with his. Ducking your head, you nuzzle underneath one of his arms, of which works its way willingly around your shoulders. Now embracing him, you begin to read with him, feeling him grow more and more nervous with each page, occasionally hugging him tighter.

Minutes pass like this, though his attention has shifted from the pages he holds to your face, lost in thought as he admires the part between your lips as you scan the words, the beautiful colour of your eyes. He blushes as you peak up to see him, a smile curling as you let out a little laugh. “I think physics is very interesting” you say, moving your hands across his stomach, your nails tracing his skin, and he represses a shudder with great difficulty. The blush across his skin grows warmer, and you can see his resolve wavering; success near. “Shall we keep reading?” you prompt, but he remains silent, just watching you with a torn expression. “Simmons?”

“You know” he begins slowly, his words careful and deliberate “I’ve never actually studied chemistry.” As he speaks, you draw one of your legs back, pushing up so that you are on a more equal level with him, wrapping your torso around his so that you are almost in front of him; causing him to lose track. “Really?” you ask, and he smiles, “Would you like me to teach you?” you reach for the book in his lap, taking it from him and gently placing it on the side table, the place held. Swinging around, you hook a leg around his waist smoothly, now sitting in his lap as you drape your arms across his shoulders. He can’t reply as you take his hands, moving them to your back, and he holds you delicately, as for fear that you might break as he wakes up from the dream he is so sure he is having.

You can’t see him not knowing, not realising what he does to you; you’re too aware that your blushing gives you away. As a soldier, you never normally let your feelings get in the way, but you’re times with the blues had softened the hard shell you formed through the freelancer project; and as a human you know that the emotions won’t just go away.

The base is quiet as you wander the halls, nothing on but the bottoms of your armour that hugs your legs like jeans and a tank top. The fresh air that gently moves through your hair is calming, though it cannot repress the sudden rise in heat when you turn a corner to see Ticker, lounging against a wall as he speaks with Church. “All I’m saying is that we need some form of entertainment around here” his voice echoes, and you stop; watching the pair. Church pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh for god sakes, Tucker; we’re in the middle of a box canyon; what do you think I can do?” He shrugs, motioning to the leader. “I dunno man, can’t you just; call command or something?” Church grumbles, “Oh yeah, cus I’m just gonna call up and ask them to send a bouncy castle into this fucking place.” Tucker’s eyes light up, their deep brown gleaming.

You walk forward with a smile, standing next to them both. “He’s kidding, Tucker.” You say, noticing his eyes grow wide with shock as he looks at you. You suppose your attire has confused him, having never seen you with half your armour on. He lets out a faint whistle, but you ignore him; turning to Church. “Caboose is stuck again” you say, pointing to the landscape. He lets out another sigh, aggressively throwing his hands in the air. “God damn it, where about’s now?” he heads towards the door as you call a location to him; being left with Tucker.

“Just dying to be alone with me, huh?” he jokes, holding his hand out and admiring it with a smirk. “Should have guessed.” You roll your eyes at his remark; turning to leave the way you had arrived, hearing him chuckling from behind you. “Oh c’mon, help me out here, Y/N” you grit your teeth, and ball your fists, coming to a stop and turning back to him. “With what?”    “We’ve got to convince Church to let us have some entertainment here.” Making a face, you consider your options; risking being around Tucker may lead to you being unable to control yourself, and this was something you struggle to come to terms with.

“Tucker, I don’t think you’ll get anywhere on this. Just give up, will you? I’m not gonna help.” He chuckles again, “You’re a hard one, aren’t you?”, and you feel your stomach drop in frustration.    “I’ll give you a hard one” you mumble, beginning to walk again. He booms with laughter, picking up on the phrasing he thinks you haven’t intended. “Bow chicka bow –“ his call is cut off as you slam into him, your hands pushing hard against his shoulders; backing him against a wall as you glare. His surprise is obvious, his dreadlocks falling free of their position atop his head, swinging freely. You can feel his body burning against your palms, and you desperately try to ignore it, your eyes narrowing.

“Shut the fuck up, Tucker” you growl, “Jesus, all those stupid pick up lines and little tricks; why don’t you just ask me?” You words aren’t what he expects, his dark skin warming red across his cheeks.    “I...” he flusters, but you require little strength in holding him in place. Training as a Freelancer has offered you a strength and durability that many lack. “Tucker” you smile coyly, enjoying as he squirms, your roles reversed. “Didn’t I just tell you to shut up?” you lean in to him, standing on your tiptoes, lightly brushing your lips against his. Pulling back, you smile delicately, letting him go and moving away. His face falls, looking disappointed and stung by the space between you; but you do not leave.

“Well?” you prompt, placing your hands on your hips, watching him reach and touch his lips incredulously. “Well, what?” he repeats, stunned. You shake your head in amusement.    “If you’re not gonna ask, I guess I’ll see you around, Tucker.” You wave, and begin to make your way towards the door. He stops you, grabbing your wrist and holding it carefully. You glance at him, face cool yet heart thumping loud enough to fill your ears. “Please?”. You laugh, repositioning so that you hold his hand, guiding him back to your section of the base. Surprisingly, the building had been set up for both males and females to reside in different wings to one another; so you know that interruptions will be rare.  He follows willingly, impatient with your deliberately slow and teasing pace.

“Oh, c’mon” he complains, before ducking and scooping you up into his arms, running down the hallways. “Impatient there, Tucker?” you joke, but he grimace.    “Don’t tease me, Y/N. We both need this!” he shuts the door to your bedroom, loosening his grip as so to release you. With different ideas, you wrap your arms around his neck, swinging effortlessly, chest pressed against him and legs hooked around his waist. “That’s some upper body strength” he breathes, holding you around the waist. You laugh, playing with his hair, “You don’t even know the half of it”, before kissing him deeply.

The passion within the both of you begins to roar, the desperation to be closer to each other, to be pressed harder against each other’s body overwhelming. Throwing caution into the wind, he pressed you against one of your walls, one of the many trailing rails above your head within your reach. Stretching up, you grasp onto it, holding yourself up, pulling your legs in and placing your feet square on his chest; giving him a powerful push. Toppling, he falls to the bed, and you leap beside him, straddling him as his hands roam. “Jesus, going right to the mount, huh?” you smirk, kissing along his jaw line, finding the clasp that holds his armour together; quickly releasing it so that you can slide the large plates aside, clattering them to the floor.

“Are you going to be beating me up this whole time?” he asks huskily as you nip at the skin on his neck, causing him to ache his body trying to reach you. “Maybe...” you tease, sitting up and pulling your singlet up over your head, revealing your breasts. He grins suddenly, rocketing up and knocking you back, only supporting you with a hand around your waist. As you dangle, you feel his mouth work across your nipple, tongue rolling as he kisses and sucks. You let out a faint moan, despite yourself, a smile stretching across your lips. “You know” you breathe as he massages your other breast with a thumb running circles over the sensitive skin, “for someone who doesn’t get any, you’re sure as hell good at this”. He lets out a low grumble, nipping on your nipple a little harder, causing you to break into a louder moan.

“Now, that’s just not nice,” he says, returning to your hungry lips, letting you sit back up. You shrug your shoulders, holding him to you, one hand stroking across his stomach and lingering just above his boxer line; the armour still in place. In a swift motion, you find the clasp, unlocking them so that it hangs loose, quickly removing the protective clothing from his body so that it hands at his hips. Wanting to slide it off completely, you move to do so, but his hands stops you; quickly flipping you over so that he lies on top of you, body pressed hard against your own. “Oh no you don’t” he chuckles, finding the clasp to your bottom section of armour as quickly as you had found his, releasing you from it, masterfully tugging it from your body, tossing it behind him carelessly. Leaving you with nothing more that the black protective undergarment to cover your legs, you wrap them around him, stroking his dark chest.

“Armour really isn’t the best thing for this” you comment lightly, and he laughs, kissing your collar bones, leading a trail down your chest and across your stomach, stopping above your hips. “Sure as hell make you look sexy though”, he replies, pulling off the remainder of the clothing, kissing your knees and inner thighs as he does so. You feel the passion in side of you rage as he touches you, craving more, craving for him inside of you. The need to feel him, to have him begins to rule you, and you pull yourself up, pressing him down with strength, tugging away his armour almost viciously, leaving him naked. Surprised, though pleasantly, you take hold of him, carefully moving him to your entrance; lowering. He fills you quickly, causing you to let out a soft moan to mirror his, bobbing on his slowly, working carefully to tease him. His begins to grow frustrated, and you throw caution to the wind as he throws you onto your back, re-entering you and beginning to pump; hard.