#Halo imagines

[morganas-pendragons]

respite | Master Chief

this is the halo discords fault.

@lialacleaf / @embarrassedauthornerd / @empresskadia

***

His dreams are not kind to him.

It takes a considerable amount of effort to wake up in the middle of the night and not allow the scream building in his throat to break free. To untangle his grip from crumpled sheets, to slow his breathing back to something steady where his heartbeat isn't pounding in his own ears.

His dreams are not kind to him. His ghosts, even less.

You're woken up to screaming.

His adjustment has not been easy since Cortana's disappearance. So much has happened to the Master Chief in so little time, and not a single person onboard this ship has taken the opportunity to give him the time to process it.

You're determined to be the one who helps him do so. It starts off simple, as it did when you first met. Assurances of watching his back and being his partner on the field. Friendly touches on forearms and shoulders, firm nods of confirmation, always looking out for each other.

It had turned into something more when he'd saved you from the Flood.

It had turned into something more for him when you'd saved him from the group of Brute Chieftains just before High Charity had crashed. That's a whole other story for a whole other day.

John trusted you. He trusted you with his life, with himself, and that was not easy to obtain. Having the trust of The Master Chief as both a soldier and a person was like being given his heart and watching it settle into your hands.

A broken, bleeding thing.

You remember the first time he'd actually screamed. It was loud and agonizing and raw, and only hours after Miranda had died. You had maybe two hours tops before you had to activate the Ring. You'd forced him to sleep for said two hours, because he was not going to function well otherwise.

The Arbiter acted as he did not hear it. Dishonorable, he'd said, to look upon a man like that and acknowledge his turmoil.

"Well, your dishonor is our comfort."

You'd entered the room and sat by his side until he calmed down. You didn't touch him, you didn't say a word, but the act of your presence at his side was enough.

You slid his helmet back on and leaned forward to lightly knock your head against it. There is not an ounce of apprehension in your gaze. No. That's confidence.

Confidence in him.

"To war then, Master Chief."

John had come to appreciate that about you. When everyone else was betting on him to lose and the odds were entirely against him, your steady footing and steadfastness were all he needed to keep pushing forward.

He found himself seeking you out more than embracing his elusive nature and isolating to cope with what played behind his eyes when he slept. Miranda's death. Keyes death. Johnsons death. Cortana-

Cortana had taken his willingness to embrace the fight. Having you and her had rejuvenated him. Had given him a purpose that he felt he could successfully fulfill.

Then she was gone. She'd touched him, said those words that would forever be burned into his memory, and she was gone.

John would've been lying if he said he wasn't terrified that the same thing would happen to you.

That's what brought him to this point. Fingers wound tightly enough in the sheets to crumple them beneath his grasps, blue eyes wildly seeking something to anchor to while his heart pounded loudly in his ears. The moonlight fractured against the window to his right, illuminating the bedroom and his body in white as he twisted and turned on the mattress.

He didn't fully emerge from that nightmare until you opened the door.

Vulnerable. You're vulnerable. You are not safe.

"John? Are you alright?"

You haven't moved. He can just barely see you lingering in the darkness of his doorway. You've closed the door behind you on entry, fingers wound around the wall loosely as you wait for an opening to come closer.

He needs to breathe. His chest hurts, and his eyes are on fire, and why are his cheeks wet-

You're sitting beside him in a moment's notice. He can't quite hear what you're saying now, and perhaps he doesn't need to, because all he can feel is the warmth of your hand on his chest and the other curving around his jawline. It's a stark contrast from the bitter cold of death that always seems to linger in his dreams.

He reads your lips instead as the world slowly comes back into focus. You are safe. You are with someone you trust. You are secure. All attributes that the two of you have said about one another. All attributes that caused him to allow himself to be vulnerable, to allow you to see a side of him most people didn't.

His mind shifts backwards to the first time he'd let you remove his helmet. That alone spoke volumes. Most Spartans didn't even let the other members of their fire team remove their helmets, or their armor.

It had been the talk of the Infinity for weeks.

"John." You're still giving him an opportunity to talk, and the way your gentleness and patience is so all encompassing causes the breath he'd lost to slowly come back into his lungs. "What do you need?"

The logical part of his brain knows the answer to that. He needs to win the war. He needs peace of mind. He needs sleep, and food, and Blue. He really misses Blue Team.

What he does not need is to talk about this dream. About the death. About losing you, and how watching you die finally made him wake up to a very simple realization: Losing you was not an option. Losing you could not happen, because he was in love with you, and had been for a while.

His desires had just not allowed themselves to be known when being the face of a war only he could win.

His heart, however, is what wins out in the end. Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra 117 looks up at you and says, "You."

***

You don't know what that means. For all the time that you and John have been dancing around each other - years, in fact, because you'd resigned yourself to your feelings being one-sided long before this - you never anticipated broken, bleeding fingers shakily reaching out to wrap your own around what is left of his heart.

That is exactly what's on full display right now.

"I don't want to take advantage-"

Your breath catches in your throat as John's hands come to cradle your jaw. It's the first time he's touched you without gloves covering his fingers. It's the first time you've also been able to really see him without the helmet, and he is the most magnificent man you've ever laid eyes on.

You've wondered for years what color his eyes are. It has haunted your dreams, especially whenever the two of you were separated when the Forward Unto Dawn split.

Blue. Such a glorious, deep shade of blue.

"If I didn't want it," He says quietly. "I wouldn't ask."

You slide your knees against the standard UNSC mattress and allow him to, though slowly and hesitantly, take you into his embrace. Menial comforts are not something Spartans are afforded. To be able to take the offer of your comfort, of you, is not something he ever regret doing.

John's head slowly falls into the dip of your shoulder the minute you are in his lap. It's comfortable, and warm, and all you can feel against you is every part of him. It's exactly what you've dreamt of for all the years you've held such deeply rooted feelings for him.

You shiver as his breath fans across your skin. It's intimate. You wonder if picking his head back up to kiss him is too far, but you miss one hundred percent of the risks you don't take.

So you do.

"John," You whisper. "There's never going to be a time where I don't bet on you. You are the one who's gotten us this far, and you're the one who will see us through. I know it. I believe in you."

You watch the knot in his throat bob as he swallows, eyes brightened by the beams of moonlight from outside as you both hesitate.

"Believe in me a little bit longer," His voice is so low that you almost don't hear it, and he's the one who leans forward to follow that desire he has suppressed for is long. "Please."

You nod. Once, twice, three times.

"Always."

And the moment his mouth catches yours, the safety he has so desperately been seeking since Cortana disappeared finds itself encompassing him within their arms.

For the weary soldier, respite comes in the form of his partner: His compassionate, empathetic, gentle partner who will always be there to watch his six. To fight his demons, to ward away his ghosts.

He would not have it be anyone else.

Only you.

[selfindulgentraptor]

Thinking about his wings

[venduri]

Only you could accomplish such art, Celebrimbor

Assad Zaman as Celebrimbor from JRR Tolkien's The Silmarillion and Unfinished Tales

[trashinyourpockets]

Introducing your alien son to your bf

[blackfire5561]

He wants a bite (of ice cream) 🍨

[narratively-doomed]

yum!

[duskier]

Actually solemn knight Ghost who took a vow of silence after he wasn't able to save his clan leader.

The late Lord Cailean MacTavish had taken Simon in when he was a young boy. Had trained him to be a skilled soldier, fed him, vouched for him to others despite the reputation Simon's father, the late Riley patriarch, had sewn. Even sent money to Simon's mother to allow her to live comfortably all the way to her natural end. When the young Simon saw Cailean fall in the midst of the chaos of battle, his entire world rotted away. It felt like losing his father all over again- no, it felt like truly losing his father. And he couldn't help but entirely blame himself. If only he'd been faster... he should have sacrificed himself. Stepped in front of the spear and let it pierce his own heart. The world wouldn't have missed Simon Riley, but the loss of Cailean MacTavish was a scar upon the land that would not heal for generations.

For all intents and purposes, Simon Riley died the day Cailean MacTavish did.

Ghost who then spent his entire life protecting the young Lord John MacTavish after. Ghost, who was dark, broody, quiet. John, the bright-eyed, intelligent trickster son who didn't fully understand, who didn't know the vow of silence Ghost had taken or the guilt that weighed heavier than the world on Ghost's shoulders. John always trying to get Ghost to speak, even to make a noise. They were only a decade apart in age, but John's playfulness and Ghost's stoicism made it seem like they were leages apart.

Ghost fighting to keep John safe above all else if only in memory of his father, though Cailean's advisors Lord Price and Lady Laswell were always planning for the clan's future- vying for the throne. They only wanted what was best for John, the glory of the throne, but Ghost knew it would only bring danger. His nightmares of reliving Cailean's ashen face twisted and morphed into seeing John's face looking up at him instead.

John had grown into a fine man. Athletic, handsome, sharp as a nail. He doesn't remember his father as well as Ghost does, but he feels the weight of his need to finish his father's dream- to secure the throne for his clan. Ghost wants to break the vow of silence then and there just to convince him how stupid the idea is, how it could get him killed before he's even turned 25. He doesn't.

Ghost wasn't just taking care of John as a service to Cailean anymore. John talked to Ghost incessantly. While some had taken to mocking Ghost as a means to goad him into speaking, John had grown into speaking to Ghost as an equal. Sharing little jokes, his eyes sparkling as he watched Ghost chuckle dryly. John took care of Ghost, oftentimes feeding him before himself. John's big heart was part of what made Ghost ultimately realize he had fallen for him. Which only made Ghost more concerned about this fight for the throne. He could live with never telling John how he felt, staying by his side as his loyal companion as John would marry a beautiful maiden and have children... but he couldn't live in a world without John in it.

Against all odds, John succeeds.

Ghost lost a lot in his protection of John. His left arm was burned while saving John from a fire, his nerves shot and tendons frayed. He couldn't raise it above his shoulder anymore. Ragged scars ran the other side of his face, fighting off an assassin with a knife. One of his legs was weaker than the other, an arrow wound to the thigh he never properly healed from. Still, he remained the most steadfast and feared soldier.

They were always seen together, John always talking to Ghost. On the day of John's coronation, Ghost breaks his vow- no. His vow is fulfilled. Cailean's dream accomplished, his son seated upon the throne. It was like a knot in Ghost's stomach that had lived there for years finally untwisted, released at the sight of the crown atop John's proud head. Before everyone, Ghost held John's hand in his own. Kneeling before who he believed to be the true and rightful king. The love of his life. Vowing with a voice hoarse from disuse that he would continue to protect and honor King John until his final breath.

[asphodeldreams]

it's actually insane to me how many rvb fans have only gotten into the show in the past like 2 years. looking at the survey results so far is breaking my brain i think because 2022-2024 is in the top three for that question currently. like in the time between zero/family shatters and restoration there was practically NOTHING happening with the series what do you mean this many people STARTED watching it then?? also i see so many people on my dash who are like "watching for the first time i'm on season 6 teehee" HELLO?? should-should i tag for spoilers on my rvb posts??

[specialagentlokitty]

Master chief x reader - learning new feelings with you

Saw that you would start writing for Master Chief. I finished watching it like a week ago so this is a funny coincidence😂. Maybe a Master Chief (John-117) x reader with this prompt “Did you mean it?” “What?” “When you said you loved me did you mean it?” from your 2024 prompts. So many of the 2024 prompts would be great for him. You don't have to write this if you don't won't to as always of course.( •◡-)-♡ - Anon💜

Sitting at your desk, you flicked through some of the files on the tablet you were holding, taking a sip of your tea that was sat in front of you.

There was a knock on the door and you looked up.

“Come in.” You called.

The door was opened, and you smiled a little bit at the Spartan and your cell doctor who came through the door.

“Miranda, Master Chief, what brings you here?” You asked.

The Spartan took a seat in a chair on the other side of the room, and Miranda walked over to you.

“I’m sorry Doctor, I know you’re very busy but John has been injured, and he refuses medical assistance. I thought maybe you could convince him to get help.”

You nodded, standing up from your desk.

“I’ll see that the chief is safe. Thank you for bringing him here.”

She smiled, heading out of your office and you turned around to John, walking over you took a seat in front of him.

“Why are you refusing medical care Master Chief?”

“I don’t know who I can trust, who I can’t trust.”

You slowly nodded your head.

“You’ve been having an influx of emotions since you removed the pellet from your back, these are emotions you have never felt before so you don’t know how to process them, that’s okay.”

You leant over the table, tapping a finger against the helmet over his head.

“However, refusing medical assistance when it’s needed is not okay. It’s dangerous to put yourself in that situation.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, may you remove your helmet please? Show me where the injury is.”

John reached up, carefully pulling his helmet off, setting it on the floor next to his foot.

He looked up, his eyes connecting with yours, and you pulled a torch out from your pocket, flashing it over his eyes.

“Follow my finger.”

He did as you said, and you carefully turned his head from side to side to ensure that there was no pain or restriction with his movements.

“You’ll need a few stitches, but otherwise you’ll be fine. I can have somebody from the medical team come up and sort that out.”

“No.”

“No?”

You turned around to look at John, setting your tablet back down, showing him that you were listening to what he was saying.

“Do you not want the medical team to do it?”

“No.”

“Alright, I won’t call for them.”

Walking across your office, you grabbed a first aid box you kept in there and walked back over, taking what you would need out.

John didn’t say anything as you placed your hand on the side of his face, turning it just a little bit so you could work on stitching the wound on the side of his head.

“I hope you know that I’m no medical doctor Chief, so this will be a dodgy job at best.”

“I know.”

You hummed a little bit, remember what you had learnt a long time ago as you fixed up his injury for him.

When you were done, you bagged everything up, took your gloves off and set it all aside, sanitising your hands.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.” John replied.

You turned around to look at him.

“Do you feel you can trust me?”

“Why?”

“Because I would like to know why you refuse medical attention, why Miranda brought you here to see me.”

John clasped his hands together, leaning his head down to run his hands over it, letting out a small breath.

You didn’t pressure him, you simply walked back over to sit in front of him once more.

“Chief?”

He looked up at you, and you gave him a reassuring smile.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to tell me of you don’t want to, okay? I’m not here to force you into anything you don’t want okay? Remember this is a safe place.”

“I need to go.”

“Alright, that’s okay. If you do want to talk though just come and see me, my door is always open for you.”

He nodded his head, picked up his helmet and left, and you walked back to your desk.

You had a good idea as to why he decided to come to you instead.

After touching the object they had found, he’d glad glimpses of what you believed were memories, he’d learned he was stolen away from his family.

He wasn’t very trusting after finding out it was the very same doctor whom been with him and the pet her Spartans this whole time.

The only constant thing he had right now was you and the other Spartans, he had demanded to see your file to make sure you weren’t in on it as well, and you showed him.

You never hid anything from him.

So, if you had to guess, he was a little more trusting of you than any of the other doctors, and he felt more comfortable with you than the people who were usually poking and prodding at him after missions if he was hurt.

You had a few sessions with some of the marines, spending some times with them, talking to them and listening to their concerns or fears.

As late afternoon came around, you were walking around your office to stretch your legs, and there was a knock on your door before it opened.

“Doctor?”

You hummed, turning around, smiling at John as he came back through.

“How can I help?”

He quietly closed the door, standing to attention, hands clasped behind his back as if he were reporting to a supervisor.

“You seem to make sense of things when nobody else can. I don’t understand what’s happening to me.”

“Let’s take a seat and have a talk, yeah?”

He sat down, and you sat down opposite him.

He began to explain everything to you, sometimes pausing to find the right words or think about what he was saying.

He didn’t say much, and he stopped speaking to look at you.

“Do you understand what it is?” He asked.

“I do, yes. When we’re young we are taught how to handle our emotions, process them. Our parents teach us first, how to appropriately react to emotions. Does that make sense?”

John shook his head.

“Well, when I was a kid when I was angry I used to break things or throw things. My mom gave me a cup of water, but I was angry because she wouldn’t give me my favourite snack, so I threw the cup and broke it.”

John furrowed his brows a little bit.

“Over a snack?”

You laughed a little bit.

“Kids will do anything for their favourite snacks.”

You smiled at him.

“My mom put me in time out while she cleaned it up, then she came over, explained to me when I was angry I should never throw things, or hit people. When you’re angry you shouldn’t speak to people, and you should never go to bed angry.”

He slowly nodded his head.

“Our teachers continue these teachings, the grown ups in our lives help us learn about this emotions, how to handle them and how to process them. You never had that option, you had your emotions taken away from you.”

“Kai seems to be adjusting…”

“Kai is deflecting, Kai is finding things to occupy herself, but there will come a time where she will be forced to face the emotions she doesn’t know about yet. Grief, loss, pain, you’ll experience them as well.”

John raised his gaze from his hands to look at you.

“It’s hard to point which emotion it is you’re feeling, but if I had to guess I would assume perhaps anger, and confusion mixed into one.”

“What do I do? How do I make it go away?”

You gave him a sad smile.

“You can’t make them go away, you can push them down, but one day you will need to process them. There are different ways to doing this, and I can guide you, but I can’t process them for you, this needs to be something you do yourself.”

“What do I do?”

Getting up, you walked over to your desk and picked up a bit of paper, walking back over to him and you sat down next to him.

You were much smaller than he was, even sitting next to him on the couch it was clear that you were smaller than him.

You held it out to him and he took it.

“I keep this list for anybody who needs help figure out how to process their emotions. It’s a list of things that may help you. From going to the gym, writing letters, then there’s taking a step back from your current situation, go for a walk, find somewhere quiet to sit and just be you.”

“What do you do?”

“Well, I wait until the weekends, then I leave reach, and I go for a hike nearby. Around this time of year there’s my favourite place where all the flowers are in bloom, and I just sit there, sometimes I read, other times I just listening to the birds. I enjoy the escape of nature.”

John nodded his head, setting the paper down on his table.

“I decided to come here because I trust you.” He said quietly.

You smiled softly.

“Well, I’m glad you can. But Chief?”

You turned his head down to look at you.

“Next time please go to medical, it could be something serious. If you don’t like going there, you can get somebody to call for me and I’ll come with you, alright?”

“Why?”

You smiled softly at him, placing a hand on his arm, patting it a few times.

“Because you trust me, if that means I have to come to medical with you to make sure they don’t run any unnecessary tests, and make sure you’re alright I’ll do that.”

He nodded, and you got up, making your way back to your desk to put the paper away.

“Spartans were conditioned to only bond with other Spartans.” John said.

You looked over at him.

“I… don’t understand how to interact with other people.”

“That’s alright, you can learn if you want to. I’ll be going to my hike tomorrow if you would like to come along, I think it may help you.”

Taking another slip of paper, you wrote down a time and a place and walked over, handing it to him.

“I’ll be here, I’ll wait around for you, but you can find me there every weekend.”

He nodded, taking it from you and he left without another word.

The following day, just like you said, you waited for John, and he turned up a few minutes later, dressed in his work out uniform.

He usually wore it under his suit, so it made sense as to why he was wearing it now, they were most likely the only clothes he owned aside from his armour.

“How long does it take to get there?”

“Not long, we’ll need to stop to buy some water first.”

He nodded his head, following you to the shop, and you grabbed a couple of bottles of water, along with some food for lunch, paid for them and put them in your bag.

You and John made your way there, and you began walking the trail you walked every weekend.

“Doctor?”

“You can call me (Y/N), we’re not at the office. We’re friends right?”

“Friends?”

You smiled brightly.

“Well, you come by my office enough to not be friends at this point. I’ve never had somebody willingly come to my office so many times.”

He stayed quietly for a few moments, just searching around the trial.

He was looking around for threats, you knew that.

“How do I know what emotions are what?”

“Well, it depends on the person I suppose. And the emotion, take love for example, there are different kinds. Parental love, the love between a person and their parental figure, or parent and child. Then there’s plutonic love, the bond between friends, then you have romantic love, the love, the connection between two people who want to spend the rest of their their lives together.”

“How do you know the difference?”

You stopped walking, crouching down to look at some blue flowers that were blooming from the grass.

John knelt next to you to look at what you were looking at.

“Well, you have a plutonic love for the other Spartans, you’ll protect them, but just because you have to, but because they’ve essentially become your family.”

You looked up at him.

“Parental love, I’m not to sure how you’ve experienced that if you have. As a child I know you would have, and in time perhaps that’ll come back to you.”

You stood up, carrying on your walk, shifting the bag on your back and little uncomfortably.

John placed a larger hand on your shoulder, and he held his other hand out to you.

Taking the bag from your back you passed it over to him, letting him swing it over his shoulder.

“Thanks, it was getting a little heavy.” You laughed.

“Do you always bring so much?”

“Not always, but there’s two of us this time.”

“I’m sorry if I inconvenienced you.”

“Hey, come on chief, don’t say that. You’re never an inconvenience.”

John glanced at you.

“Why do you call me chief?”

“What would you prefer me to call you?”

He thought for a moment.

“I will call you (Y/N), only if you call me John.”

You smiled brightly up at him.

“Alright John.”

You carried on walking, every so often stopping to admire something and John would just stand there was stare at you.

He watched you carefully, not able to fully relax, put that sense that there was always a threat behind him.

As you reached a fork in the path, you took the one to the left, and soon enough you were surrounded by trees in full bloom, a sea of pink and white petals all over.

You walked to the middle and sit down, resting your hands behind you as you looked around.

“Why do you stop to look at everything?”

John sat in front of you, setting the bag between the pair of you.

“Well, it’s always important to take time to admire things you consider beautiful, for me, I find beauty in nature, the simple things that are all around us. I love it.”

John nodded a little.

“You never told me about romantic love. What is that like?”

“Well, again it’s different for everybody.”

“What is it for you?”

You were curious about his sudden curiosity about feelings, because the whole time since he removed his pellet he hadn’t shown much interest around them.

“John, can I ask why you’re suddenly curious?”

“Miranda says I love somebody. I don’t understand what that means.”

“Ah, I see. Well, for me it’s the little things that somebody does, what they like, the way they laugh, or the way they might make a small noise when they stretch. For me it’s about all the little things, not the big gestures. I don’t care about them, I’d take flowers over expressive dinner, walks instead of going to shows or things like that.”

John nodded his head.

He just sat there studying you, his eyes solely focused on you, watching your every move.

There was a reflection of the flowers in your eyes, and a warmth in your smile.

“How do I know if I love somebody?”

“Well, you could experience a need or want to be with this person, be next to them at all times. You’ll want to learn everything about them, it could be a tightness in your chest when you see them, a need to protect them. There’s a lot of different tells.”

“What do I do?”

You smiled.

“You could tell them, ask them on a date.”

John nodded his head, watching as you got up from where you were sat.

Walking over to one of the trees you stood under one of them, looking up through the blooming flowers.

John got up, walking after you and he stood behind you.

He watched your pointless attempt to try and reach them, there was no way you could teach them, but he could, so he reached up and took one of the flowers, giving it to you.

He enjoyed the close proximity to you, he didn’t know much about anything other than fighting, but he knew he liked having you nearby. He had an urge to keep you safe, and he liked seeing you smile.

“I love you.”

You snapped your eyes to him, head tilted back as you stared at him in pure shock.

John stared right back at you, his soft gaze focused solely on you, neither of you saying a work.

“Chief!”

He turned around, and you did the same thing, stepping from behind his larger frame.

“We have to go now.” Kai said.

John nodded his head, turning around to look at you.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. Please let me know you have returned home safely.”

You slowly nodded, just watching d he jogged away but you couldn’t get the thought out of your head of what he said.

Technically there was nothing wrong with anything going on between the pair of you as he wasn’t a formal patient you were simply doing a friend a favour by helping him.

You had to admit you did like his presence there, and you had wondered about if Spartans dated, held relationships and such.

You didn’t see John for a good few weeks, but the moment he was back after his debrief he made his way to your office and knocked on the door before walking in.

“Master chief?”

He frowned a little.

“I prefer it when you say my name. It sounds different when you say it.”

“Sorry John, what brings you by? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I wanted to see you.”

This made you smile, and you set down some of the books you were holding in your hands.

John walked over, he seemed to reach out for your hand but he hesitated.

“I would like to go on a date with you, but I don’t know how to do that.”

“Can I ask you something first?”

He nodded his head, and you reached out, holding his larger hand between your smaller ones.

You had to look up in order to look at him, his head turned down a little bit so he could look at you.

“Did you mean it?”

“What?”

You took a small breath.

“When you said you loved me did you mean it?”

“Yes. What you described is how I feel when I am around you, I want to explore this feeling, experience it with you. You see me for me, as John, not as master chief, even though you refer to me as master chief.”

You laughed softly, he enjoyed that sound.

“I’ll call you John from now on then.”

John studied you.

“Can you lean down?”

He complied, curiosity in his eyes.

Leaning forward, you pressed a very careful kiss to his cheek.

“Lets start slowly, a coffee date, get to know each other. You’re still learning about yourself, we don’t want to overwhelm you.”

He nodded his head, looking at his hands surrounded in yours, and he realised he had never known such a gentle and careful touch.

He enjoyed the different feelings he had around you, and he wanted to learn more about them, more about you

[harbingersecho]

wow is that THE doc dufresne from the popular webseries red vs blue ???

[heylolita00]

[davidellisartworkstuff]

Jaune and Pyrrha backing up towards each other from large Grimm tentacles around them.*

Pyrrha with her rifle aimed as her back bumps into Jaune’s.*

Jaune, drawing his sword and putting on a deep voice: We trade one villain for another.

Pyrrha: Hmm? *Cutely raises her eyebrow.*

Jaune, huffing: C’mon... Halo 3? The Arbiter? Chief and Arby back to back against the Gravemind, cmonnnn! It’s iconic!

Pyrrha cringing as she shrugs.*

Jaune: Ah Pyrrhaaa!

Pyrrha: I’m sorry! I just haven’t seen many films!

Jaune: It’s a game! *Slaps a tentacle aside as it tries to grab him* Yeah hang on, one second. This is important.

[ghostlychief]

OKIE, HI LOVE, I'm so excited. I would like to request Touch-starved! John. John, who didn't realize how it felt to be loved. John, who didn't know how nice it felt to be wanted for being just him. John, who's never had a hug in his life, stiffing when his partner gave him a hug before realizing how comforting it was. John, who doesn't know how to hug his partner back and is scared he'll hurt them.

Okay i love this idea so much. YOUR MIND CONTINUES TO AMAZE ME. Because John would TOTALLY be like this at first. Love touch-starved!John. For some reason the concept of the song Drops of Jupiter popped into my head when i thought of this John. I hope you enjoy what i threw together, and hope you're doing well <3

---

Drops of Jupiter

John-117/Master Chief x reader

no warnings, just fluff!

---

John’s life can really only be measured by statistics, measured quantitatively. From the moment he was found on Eridanus II by Dr. Halsey, his life started to have meaning in the way of numbers. How fast was he growing? How much did he weigh? How much could he lift? Those numbers became one of the most important thing in his life. Besides that, he didn’t have much else to count for. His sole purpose was to train and become the best Spartan II the UNSC has ever seen.

That was until he decided to remove the hormonal pellet, lodged in the center of his lower back, resting in between his spine. Who knew how much power rested in something smaller than a quarter?

This pellet repressed his moods, making sure he was only ever objective, the thought of subjectivity a sin. It also dimmed hormones a normal person experiences in their every day life. Such as, the longing touch of a loved one. Or, the hope to feel accepted by one’s peers. These suppressors were supposed to make the ultimate, elite solider. It was supposed to help aid the Spartan’s on the battle field by making them mission oriented. Act first, ask questions later. As long as the mission was complete and a success, not much else mattered.

At first, John felt disoriented. He felt unbalanced by the new coming of emotions and hormones that spiraled around in his body. There was a crash of emotions washing over his entire body that he forgot he felt before, in a distant past life he wasn’t even sure really existed. It felt rickety, yet exciting. Everything seemed brand new to him. The clouds looked different, the grass brighter, the sun felt warm against his skin. He appreciated the stars that blanketed the sky on a moonless night.

For once, he felt like he completed the orbit around what his life was really about. He finally understood. Life wasn’t just about missions and killing the Covenant. No, there was so much more to it and he finally felt like he touched back home after a long, grueling journey, pulled down by the gravity of the new world he found himself in.

Shortly after his pellet was removed, he met you. You were a linguistic technician that worked closely with many of the people John worked with. You were an expert in Sangheili, which became a hot commodity skill to have in the impending months leading up to the human/Covenant war. John had actually crossed paths with you before, only in passing, but you have met, though not officially.

The day you sat across from him in the cafeteria was Johns’s first encounter with you since feeling different, feeling new. You were already half way seated when you asked, “Mind if I sit here?” John looked up at you, brows furrowed and nodded, but at this point you were already sat down at the table.

“I’d like to pick your brain about something if you don’t mind?” Your sweet voice traveled across to John in the noisy cafeteria and he found himself staring at you for a second before he mentally shook his head. “Sure?” He was still perplexed why you were here sitting with him. Usually no one approached the Spartans unless they were instructed to do so.

“Okay, so I’m in the linguistics department, specifically Sangheili, and I wanted to ask you about the encounters you’ve had with the Sangheili, specifically the higher ranked Sangheili.”

John felt himself slightly smiling at your rambling, but he made sure to hide it from you. He cleared his through them said, “Yeah, I remember you. We met in passing a couple years ago.”

Your eyes widened, “Oh! I didn’t think you’d remember.” This time John made sure you noticed his smile, “Spartans have eidetic memory.”

“Ah, that’s right. Well, that’s good for all the questions I have for you then.” You then proceeded to talk to John about the Sangheili culture and how it related to their patterns of speech for the next two hours, time slipping away, fast through your fingers.

After that, John always felt a pull towards you, seemingly stuck in your orbit. If neither of you were on duty, you’d usually end up going on long walks. John told you about his past, like what it was like being in the Spartan program, and other adventures, like his mission on the Halos. You never interrupted him, and typically had follow-up questions, always curious to learn more about him.  

The first time you touched him was when he was explaining how he was taken as a child by Dr. Halsey to be entered into the Spartan program. You rested your hand on his bicep, and your fingers slowly rubbed back and forth in a comforting notion. He at first stiffened, but then soon relaxed under your enchanting touch, longing to feel it again after you left his quarters that night.

He started to see more and more of you, and his feelings slowly and quietly developed into something akin to love, though he was never really sure what that word meant. Not until you. He imagined what love might have been, but could never quantify it since love never dealt in numbers or absolutes. It was abstract, confusing, with no concrete answer to it.

Though all of these new emotions felt confusing at times, John never felt confused by you. You simply loved him, not Master Chief or John-117, just John. Slowly but surely, John felt more comfortable with you, emotionally and also physically. Although Spartans are massive in their stature, people still forget how freakishly strong they actually are. Such as, John can easily flip over a Warthog. So, in dealing with you, he was extra cautious.

The first time you wrapped your arms around his middle in a bone crushing hug, he was worried about hugging back, afraid he would crush you, hurt you. He doesn’t remember ever receiving a hug like that, and he wanted to savor it, and feel it over and over again. Once he realized that he wasn’t going to hurt you, he would always pull you into random hugs through out the day, comforted by your beating heart against his.

John’s life, once measured only in numbers, in quantity, now could be measured by so much more. He was lucky, after all.

---

[silly-little-block-people]

OK so. I had an idea...

I've seen some people (at least a while ago) who headcanoned c!Skizz as at least partially a robot

And I started seeing him like that too, just...my silly little guy...he's a robot guy...

And so I started thinking of more things

Like how I headcanon him to also have, like...some angel hybrid DNA spliced into him (cuz I'm indecisive.../VERYSILLY)

And how his robo-halo probably floats using, like, a magnetic field or something

Or like how his wings probably fold and unfold from compartments between his shoulder blades and back for easy storage and stuff (kinda like a Transformer)

And that made me think of an incorrect quote:

Skizz: it's pride month, Gemmy Bemmy, you know what that means

Gem: huh. what. Do you want me to, like. Build gay fish? what-

Skizz: *extends robo angel wings and robo halo, they're glowing in rgb* ya like it? Top helped me hook it up :3

Gem: I- yeah, Skizz, that's very cool

[nekoprankster218]

you know, even tho canonically Thel and pre-rampancy!Cortana knew each other for like only a few hours, I still think a face-to-face interaction between them during the Created era would’ve been neat; esp since even tho they didn’t know each other for too long, Thel was there as Chief grieved and searched for her and likely she became aware at some point what good allies they are with each other, so that still might’ve influenced smth of their interactions as they debated whose galactic socio-political ambitions was the best way forward

[kaisollisto]

(Based off of the reality of having a metal ring in your back as a constant reminder of your fate and how that affects you as a person set in the Switzerland arc)

“Does it hurt?” 

Ava’s pressed face down into the pillow sleep curling around her limbs. She hums, she can’t remember what she says, she’s exhausted. Her arms are tangled beneath her pillow. She holds her fingers tightly between each other, her bones ache from the pressure but her hands no longer shake. Ava hasn’t experienced this before, a fear that haunts her at night. (She finds she cannot stop dreaming about dying. It’s stifling in the cover of night trying to figure out where she is.) 

She slowly opens her eyes and squints in the darkness. Beatrice is facing her a furrow in her brow that Ava knows she’s doing unconsciously. Ava’s lip quirks a smidgen, Beatrice looks funny. It’s a bit silly to her, Beatrice no doubt working out a solution to an unknown problem that Ava has yet to see in the middle of the night. In her sleepy state she wants to laugh at the imaginary cogs churning in Beatrice’s head. 

Beatrice scooches closer and Ava panics, her skin can taste the dust of Bea’s forearm. She hoists herself up on her elbows, turning to face Beatrice. “Wha?” Ava’s shaking off bits of sleep from her mouth when Beatrice repeats herself. 

“Does the Halo hurt?” 

She doesn’t know if she wants to answer that. Ava peers over Beatrice squinting at the harsh light of the digital clock on Beatrice’s side. Ava loves it, it reminds her of the early 2000’s and the aesthetic of waking up to an alarm to go somewhere. The clock blinks an innocent 1:43 Am, and Ava debates on letting her head thump back down. 

She turns her body on her side, she can feel the halo shifting in her back and it makes her want to throw up. The sides of the halo press against her shoulder blades and Ava resists the urge to yank it out. She grits her teeth and settles ignoring the skin of her back pulling tight to accommodate for the ring. Beatrice is still expecting an answer and Ava can’t lie to her, she pulls the covers of the sheet up to her chest hoping to bide more time for an answer. 

"Everything hurts Bea," Ava smiles, "getting my ass handed to me is hard work."

Beatrice frowns displeased but looks at her through her lashes, it's unguarded, the stress and worries of the world stay out of their room in the dead of night. Her lashes are so pretty and Ava wants to curse the soft glow of the moon. There’s just enough moonlight to illuminate her eyes but overshadow her freckles. Ava swallows down the taste of defeat, she can’t win, she thinks. 

Her gaze is soft, Beatrice is looking at her and it’s different yet the same. The same feeling in her chest constricting her lungs, the same soft gaze of Beatrice. Beatrice who likes what she sees in Ava when Ava can barely see where she begins. She doesn’t like to dwell on it, the truth of the matter being what belongs to Ava.

If she closes her eyes she can pretend just a little longer. She can give herself the hope of the future and what comes after all this. She can put down the fighting and the artifact and live. Ava doesn't want to think about it anymore, at least not tonight when Beatrice is here with her. 

Beatrice is soft. She knows it from hours and hours of training. She's felt it when Beatrice corrects her form, in the way she talks. She speaks from a place of care like she has turned the harsh words in her brain over and over to soften the syllables spoken to Ava. And Ava doesn't linger on it, the meaning behind it, (Ava didn't think she'd make it this far, finding a person who cares quite like Bea does.)

And Ava's got it bad, she knows she's fucked because Beatrice doesn’t say anything about her language and Ava can't not tell her the truth. She looks down, her hand fiddling with the bed sheet underneath them. 

"It doesn't hurt," if she thinks about it she can feel the fibers of the cotton between the pads of her fingers. "But it's very uncomfortable." She doesn't want to find the response in Beatrice's eyes, content to hear it from her voice. The soft British lilting accent that holds her just as soft as a touch. 

She waits, she can picture Bea’s mannerisms with her eyes closed but maybe she should check just to be sure. Ava peers up at Beatrice and she’s suddenly closer. Her eyes really are pretty, there’s a depth to them that Ava wants to spend an ungodly amount of time studying.

“Can I help?” (part 2)