#i suck at drawing helmets

[liminalcritter]

oh no he angy

[personishfive]

in which the metaverse is a dangerous place

[h00tzz]

HELLO people of tumblr I simply MUST throw my tf2 ocs at you

I swear there’s actual lore and they all have names and backstories and they’re all CLONES living in the clonepocalypse but I’m writing this at 4am and I have places to be tomorrow I hope I don’t regret losing my mind and posting this tomorrow

[benevolenterrancy]

@pazithigallifreya eek, I hope that all goes well for you 😖 and that you have a better dental experience than the Lebeau With Pliers option

[ssecond-hand-faith]

Some folks at a party were comparing fictional boyfriends and I didn’t have any drawings of mine to show off, how emBARRASSING! So here’s my favourite pizza rat 🥰

[absolutelyzoned]

ocs are so awesome. there's a guy in my brain. and i made him. and its free ????!?!!? can you believe this ??!!

[dragonmons]

"oh ill post more of my marathon art when its finished" "oh ill finish it when i have the energy" "oh i cant post these sketches they suck" enough. there is no energy to finish sketches. but i want to post so im making that everyone's problem

[automatonknight]

id: a digital drawing of walenty, an original character. she’s white, has long, black hair, a thin, long tail and claws. kit is visible to about kits hips. kit is shown facing the viewer, winking and sticking kits tongue out with a smile. he’s wearing square glasses, a green shirt with a floral pattern and black pants, as well as an eyeball helmet on his head. with one of his hands he’s slightly lifting the helmet up, while his other arm is behind his back. the background is white. end id

[frostbittenstatic]

little test sketch of zero since i haven’t drawn his helmet yet

[knightscanfeeltoo]

Mako just Armouring Up for Protection before riding his New Bike, knowing that Muki can't Protect him from his Bad Luck Forever...

[brainrotzora]

recent ffxiv livetweeting. spoilers through the end of arr patch quests btw.

[heeliopheelia]

GET HIM BACK! (s. jake)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

includes: making out, skin marking, fingering, unprotected sex, riding, brief hair pulling, choking, slight bulge kink, degrading, praising too, slight exhibitionism, facial, cursing

word count: 3.3k

synopsis: 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘨𝘶𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘰

note: i really hated the build up to the one i posted before so i rewrote it as promised... sorry for the confusion guys ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

guts event masterlist ⋆♱✮♱⋆ main masterlist

“Your parents home?” Jake breaths out the words right into your mouth as he runs his tongue over your bottom lip.

It’s been mere three minutes since you first heard his loud and obnoxious bike speeding down your quiet street. He’s careless and tact-less as always, and for some reason that’s what draws you in even more. 

He never keeps you waiting long. He doesn’t beat around the bush. He’s always one foot out the door of wherever he is, always waiting for a single call or text from you. He knows what he wants and is always vocal about it, a go getter type of a man. 

So it was expected to have him climb up the low roof of your porch and hear his gloved hand knocking on your window not even ten minutes after you texted him a not so innocent wanna come over?. 

As if that was even a question. Of course he wants to come over, wants to see you any chance he can get. He doesn’t need to think for a second to grab his helmet and ride to wherever you are, so needy for him. He’s known you for less than two months – met you at a party and kept hooking up weeks after, and yet here he is, wrapped around your finger, with nothing else in his mind but you.

You’re not much better yourself, dreaming of his beaming face every night that you somehow don’t end up spending with him. You’ve grown attached to him, so attached that the tearing inside your chest becomes more hurtful whenever you’re not with him, day by day he takes a firmer grasp of your feeble heart.

Your hands are grasping onto his worn out t-shirt, kissing him greedily and breathlessly as he giggles into your mouth, pulling you closer and closer into his chest. 

“They came back an hour ago,” you answer, raising on your toes to make the angle more comfortable for the both of you. 

Slowly, he pulls away and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, then to the other one. “That’s kinda inconvenient, no?” He asks, nosing at your cheek and you close your eyes and nod your head, melting as the leather of his glove brushes against your skin as he lifts your chin up with his fingers.  

His warm lips are on yours again, hand pulling your face upward to leave you breathless in a matter of seconds. “Wanna go out with me?” He whispers in your lips. He hums when you shake your head. “No? Jay’s party’s still going. We could go, hm?” He kisses you again even when you shake your head no. “Wanna just stay here?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out quietly, eyes never meeting his. 

“Okay, as you wish, baby,” Jake smiles into your lips. “I don’t mind. Anywhere with you is good.”

Before you get the chance to swoon over his words even more, he’s pushing you backwards and against your dresser, putting his helmet down on it before caging you in between his flexing arms. He kisses you dizzy then, angling his face to the side to press and suck on your lips better.

It’s so Jake-like to make you forget about all of your surroundings, to kiss you into oblivion until your lips are swollen and burning. You never complain – why would you when you know you can only have him for this summer, before college starts again and you’ll be out of your hometown for another year. You always take him in, again and again, because you’re scared you’ll wake up from this dream too soon and never see him again. And you can’t let that happen. 

This time he pushes his tongue inside your mouth, the warm muscle working against yours. Your hands finally relax from where they’ve been clutching onto his black top so desperately, only to travel up into his hair. You tug on it gently, feeling the slightly sweaty strands underneath your fingertips. 

Jake pulls you flush to him, pushes his hips into yours for any type of fraction and groans lowly in his throat when he gets what he’s been craving for for the past hour. 

“Couldn’t wait till tomorrow to see me, baby?” He teases, but you’re nodding your head quickly before he even has the chance to finish the sentence. He smiles into your lips as your desperate fingers pull his shirt up and off of him, leaving you pressed to his toned chest. 

The two of you messily make your way to your bed, bare of any duvets and blankets as it’s too hot to sleep under any. You fall on top of him and part your lips only to latch onto his neck, tongue lapping over the bite marks you leave afterwards.  

Jake chuckles at your feverish suckling onto his skin, never objecting to being marked by you. He tugs on the leather gloves with his teeth, pulling them off and throwing them on the floor, fingers immediately going down to follow your lead and dispose of your top. You’re only wearing underwear underneath the big t-shirt you sleep in and the sight makes Jake’s mouth water. He runs his hands over every inch of your burning skin, impatiently unclasping your bra as you’re still busy with his bruised neck. 

You pull away, visibly pleased with yourself, then lift yourself on your arms and smother his swollen lips again. Jake grunts, kissing you almost just as fervently, hands going lower and lower until he grabs a handful of your ass and rolls his hips up into yours. 

You let out a whimper at that, an even louder one following when his slim fingers skim over the soaked cotton of your panties. 

“You need to be quiet, doll,” he chuckles breathlessly, drowning the sounds you make with his lips when he slips his fingers underneath the fabric and gets a feel of your slick pussy. “I don’t think we would want your parents walking in on us like that, hm?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stumble out, shifting as you’re laying flat on his chest, face buried in his collarbone and eyes fluttering when his moves only grow bolder. You shudder slightly, feeling his long digits teasing your clit with butterfly touches. 

“Ease up, pretty girl,” Jake coos, other hand wrapping around your waist to keep you steady when the first of his now soaked fingers slips inside your tight hole. You nuzzle into him further, breath becoming unsteady as you whine quietly. He moves his hand, burying it deeper and skimming it over your walls. 

Couple seconds later he adds in the second finger, the heel of his palm pressing to your clit and making you jolt slightly in his firm hold. He strokes inside you slowly, feeling you progressively getting wetter with his every push. You’re panting, hot breath hitting his skin and making his dick twitch in his pants. 

He’s plunging his fingers deep inside of you, your walls squeezing him and stretching out his lips with a satisfied smile. You can’t help but buck into the air in the little space that Jake gives you, when he picks up on his pace. His fingers thrust in and out of you, one by one, never losing their rhythm. 

Curving his fingers, his knuckles brush against the spongy insides of your hole, making you moan shakily. 

“You good?” He asks, the hand on your waist caressing you gently. 

You sigh, hands reaching up to squeeze his shoulders. “Yeah,” you whisper because that’s all of your voice that you can muster. 

“Yeah?” He can’t help but tease and you can hear the grin that’s plastered on his pink lips. But this time you only respond with a nod of your head. 

With your face buried in his skin, hands wrapped around his neck tightly, you know you’re cumming when the warm wave hits your stomach breathlessly. You’re whimpering in his collarbone, really trying your hardest to keep quiet, but with the twitching pleasure spreading through your body, and his hard bulge pressing into your stomach, it’s quite difficult to stay sane. 

Jake gives you a second to breathe before removing his dripping fingers and unbuckling his pants with it. He somehow manages to shake out of his jeans while keeping you steady on his chest and you shiver when you can feel his warm cock resting between your bodies now. 

“Stay still for me, baby,” he coaxes you before shifting you on his hips. 

Next second, you can feel his tip prodding at your sensitive pussy and he glides his cock between your glistening folds, coating it in your slick. He readies you with a squeeze at your waist, and slowly starts sinking his length inside of you.

“Wait, Jake-,” you choke on your words when he buries himself entirely inside of you, stretching you out and making you lose your composure completely. “I’m still s-sensitive,” you mumble out, about to nuzzle your face in his neck when his hands grip your waist. 

“Now, up you go,” he says and lifts you up, making you sit on his hips and take in even more of his cock. 

You moan rather loudly, sinking your teeth in your bottom lip to stop yourself from spilling any more sounds. Jake slowly rolls his hips up into you, quiet grunts leaving his own mouth as his hands settle on your hips. He starts guiding you up and down carefully until you’ve fully adjusted to him.

He only lets go once you’ve picked up on a steady pace, bracing your hands on his stomach, the feeling of his hardened muscles making your cheeks heat up. The way your pussy spreads around him is making him go crazy, and now and then he realizes that the combination of feeling you topping him and looking so fucking pretty at the same time, is nothing less than lethal. 

You’re so soft under his hands, soft around his cock, soft hands pressing on his abs – everything about you is so damn soft. You’re making him feel almost too good. To ground himself, one of his hands goes up to your hair and tugs on it slightly, making you arch your back and show your pretty, glistening with sweat neck. 

He grits his teeth when you speed up slightly, eyes misty and sparkling down at him in your dimly lit bedroom. You’re riding him so well, taking his heavy cock with little struggle.

“So good,” he pants out, fingers digging into your ass. “You’re doing so good.”

You can feel your muscles straining whenever you lift yourself up, tired legs making you drop down onto him a little more forcefully than you initially planned but you’re rewarded with his low moan and eyes shutting tightly, long lashes brushing over his cheeks. 

The room feels almost too hot, the house is too quiet for the lewd noises coming out of both of you. Your rhythmic bouncing on his aching cock soon changes to messy grinds as your knees give out and thighs burn. Your movements are shallow and visibly weakened, so to help you up, Jake brings his knees higher and roots his heels into your mattress only to thrust up into you, meeting your hips halfway.

You mewl, your legs twitching when he makes your hole take even more of him. He can feel your slick mixed with his precum seeping out and covering his stomach, and he desperately needs more. 

Swallowed by the haze, you push your hips backwards and try to meet his thrusts, making his moves stutter and a strangled groan bubbles up his throat.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he says through clenched teeth before grabbing you by your hips and pulling you off of him. Before you get the chance to ask what he is doing, you find yourself with your back slammed to the mattress, and Jake’s hands grabbing your calves and throwing them over his shoulders. 

When he enters you again, you feel your eyes rolling back a little but before any sound can make its way out of your throat, Jake’s veiny hand slaps over your mouth as he leans his face closely to yours. Your whimpers are muffled now as he picks up on his previous pace and the now changed position makes your walls clump down on him even fucking tighter. 

“Keep it down. We don’t want your mom barging in and seeing her daughter folded in half like a slut, do we?” His words only make you moan louder as your fingers dig into his toned shoulders. At your reaction, Jake’s lips spread with a sly smile as he raises his eyebrow. “Do we?” He asks breathlessly, watching as your eyes glisten in the dark room. “You really wanna get caught? To let somebody see you like that? Naughty, fucking, girl. Well, there you go.”

His hands leave your mouth and settle on your stomach instead. You just can’t predict his moves anymore, too absorbed in the pleasure spreading through your body, so when he pushes onto your stomach and presses you even deeper into the mattress, a loud moan ripples out of your lips. Jake groans too as he can feel himself moving so deep inside you underneath his fingertips. He pushes onto you even harder. Your head rolls backwards until you’re nearly facing the headboard.

It’s quite difficult to breathe and you’re not sure whether it’s from the stifling summer air that’s gotten into your room or the veiny hand that’s suddenly latched onto your throat. His hot cockhead seems to be hitting everywhere where you need it most. Nothing but dumb squeaks leave your parted lips and he thrives off of every single one of them, even deepening his thrusts to hear them grow louder.

His thighs clash into yours loudly and you yelp when he leans even more forward and the one hand that’s currently not on your throat clutches the headboard tightly. You can’t even do anything when the wood starts rattling against your wall. 

“You like getting fucked like this? Who would’ve thought,” he hums, grinning down at you with the teasing glimmer in his eyes. 

His thrusts are deep, making the tip of his cock kiss your cervix over and over again. The moans you sob out are like a shot of adrenaline in his veins, better than any drug he’s ever tried and suddenly the thought of having you to himself only for the next week crosses his mind. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to breathe without you now that he’s almost sure he’s addicted to you. 

He works his length deep inside you. Your vision threatens to turn black and you’re already out of breath when he presses onto your throat a little harder. You send him a half-lidded look and he moves his hand away from your throat to push your sweaty hair away from your forehead because nothing can fucking take the sight of your fucked out face away from him. 

Your lips are parted with the ragged breaths leaving them, hands fisting his hair and legs beginning to tremble against his chest.

“So pretty, all for me. All because of me.” You nod thoughtlessly at his words, mind taken over by the feeling of the soon to be approaching high. “So lewd too. Where did your shame go?” 

“C- Close,” is all you’re able to say. You can feel every vein on his cock more prominently with every next thrust of his, all of your senses besides touch evaporating. You can’t even hear any more of his dirty words when your climax hits you like a truck, making you let out a loud moan. 

Jake wraps one of his arms under your waist and lifts you up slightly, now folding you in half and making your orgasm hit twice as hard. He slows his hips down for a moment to help you ride it out, thrusting his dick with deep strokes. 

He’s letting go of you soon enough, quickly forgetting about your sensitive self as he feels the twitching and aching between his legs begin, waiting for his own release. With a groan, Jake braces both of his flexing arms on the headboard and ruts his heavy cock into you feverishly, making you see stars and cry out of overstimulation. 

You have to bite on his shoulder to stop the sudden scream from leaving your throat, your whole body ricocheting with his hard thrusts. Your thighs are drenched and so are his, so the skin slapping against skin sounds even louder than before, leaving the backs of your plush upper legs red and stinging. 

He loves having you like that, limp because he’s fucked you just that good but body no less responsive to all that he keeps giving you. 

“So fucking good,” he repeats himself before abruptly pulling out of your spasming pussy. “Get down here, baby.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you only nod and eagerly pull yourself down on the bed with your wobbly legs. Once you’re lowered enough, Jake angles his swollen cock right above your face and strokes himself quickly, only to couple seconds later cover your face with the thick white ropes of his release. You flinch slightly, closing your eyes as the warm liquid hits your cheeks, lewdly licking everything that’s sputtered over your lips. 

“Oh, fuck!” Jake groans, a little pitchier than before, nonetheless just as pretty. You lift your head up from the mattress and swiftly engulf his leaking tip with your lips, milking him until he’s dry. Jake shudders above you and moans, watching you through almost closed eyes as you suck on his softening cock. 

You pull away when there’s nothing else to take from him and the doe eyed look you’re giving him makes him weak in the knees. He drops down next to you, brushing your hair away from your cum stained face before giggling and picking up the shirt you’ve thrown on the floor. He gently cleans you up with it, then leans forward to drown you with his lips. 

You could kiss him for eternity, be buried with his soft lips on yours. He’s gentler now, pressing his mouth on yours and leaving peck after peck on them.  

“I think I’m in love with you,” he whispers suddenly, hazy, nose brushing against yours and making you smile the softest smile at him. “There’s never gonna be anyone else like you, YN.”

And with your heart in your throat, you can only swallow harshly and speak through your clenched throat. “Love you too, Jake.”

There’s silence between the two of you for a moment as you just stay in the moment. Heavy breaths, gentle touches brushing against each other’s bodies and soft voices making promises you most likely won’t be able to keep.

“You won’t forget about me, right?” You whisper quietly, looking up at him with misty eyes as he glazes his thumb over your bottom lip. 

He shakes his head immediately, flashing you this charming smile of his you’ve gotten so used to over the past two months. 

“How could I?” He’s just as quiet. Then he gently takes your hand in his and presses it to his chest, allowing you to feel the hammering of his heart. “All of this is yours. I’ll wait for you.”

And that’s all you need to hear right now. 

The two of you get dressed, giggling and smiling like fools as there’s nothing much left to say. Your hip is leaning on your dresser when he steps closer and kisses you again, sucking on your lips sensually and slowly, procrastinating as long as he can only to not part with you yet.

His gloves are back on his hands, helmet under his arm as he turns back to you and tries one more time, grabbing your smaller hand in his. “Go out with me now?” 

You don’t know how you’ll be able to face your parents tomorrow. 

You don’t wanna say goodbye to him tonight. 

So with a smile on your lips, you nod your head and climb out of the window – hands intertwined together and his helmet safely tucked on your head.

But he was so much fun and he had such weird friends

And he would take us out to parties and the night would never end

taglist: @luvkpop @yannew @hoonxclsvly @jongseongslvr @beomgyusonlywife @starggukies @koizekomi @ineedsomezzz @starl1ghtsinthedark @enhastolemyheart @seokseokjinkim @parksunghoonsgf @skzenhalove @somekpopshiteu97 @enhypens-hoe @alpha-mommy69 @jwnzlvr @wondipity

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @dilucsleftshoelace @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @seongiewon @nichoswag @s00buwu @mon2sunjinsuver @goreconsumer @i4kt @heehoonsnemo @seongslutt @criminalyun @kissestojapan

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Asshole Instructor

Luke Castellan x Jackson!Reader

Request: luke x jackson!reader angst to fluff like he likes reader but bullies her and like one day she almost dies and then he feels so guilty and confesses

Summary: Luke has been an asshole but he can't help it until he realizes the girl he likes could be gone any minute

Warning: Angst, bullying, Luke acting like a five year old, monsters, injuries

Word Count: 1.5K

Masterlist

A/N I tweaked your request a bit so the story flows more imo

“Faster,” I yelled at one of our newest campers. Y/N Jackson dropped her sword and ripped off her helmet, looking at me with fury in her eyes. I was a little afraid but mostly really attracted to her like this.

“Don’t fu-”

“Hey, we don’t curse,” I reminded her of the camp rules. “What with all the kids around.” Seeing her become even angrier made it so hard not to laugh. I was just glad that we weren’t near any bodies of water. When I had told her that her 12 year old brother was a better fighter than her at dinner, every glass of water rose up in the air she was so mad.

She just threw the sword down and stormed off. “Hey!” I yelled after her. “You’re not dismissed.” But she ignored me, continuing to storm off towards the beach. I felt a pang of guilt antagonizing her to the point that she left but I figured I shouldn’t chase after her if she was going to be around water. Plus, it was funny to see her get so mad.

I turned around the clean up the arena only to see Annabeth standing there looking unimpressed. “Why are you being so mean to her?” she asked.

“I’m not, I'm just messing around.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, you’re antagonizing her. And I think I know why,” she smirked.

“Why?” I asked, deciding to humor her.

“Because you looove her,” she replied smugly, drawing out ‘love.’

“I do not,” I immediately defended. I cringed as my response was too fast. She only gave me a satisfied smirk. “Fine, okay. She’s pretty, I’ll give you that.” Annabeth just raised her eyebrow. “And smart,” I admitted. She kept looking at me. “And nice.” More looks. “Fine! Whenever I see her I want to kiss her and never let her out of my sight.”

A smile broke out on her face, finally satisfied. “See? Now go tell her that. Well- maybe not that exactly. You’ll probably scare her off. But tell her how you feel instead of harassing her and making her hate you.”

My heart stopped. “She hates me?”

“Probably!” Annabeth said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Or at least she will if you keep treating her so terribly.”

“Fine, I’ll apologize to her after dinner,” I sighed.

“No! Now,” she demanded.

“But she’s at the beach. She’ll kill me!”

“I don’t care. Go,” she said, pointing down the beach. “And take this to her.”

I grumbled, grabbing her helmet from Annabeth before heading after the daughter of Poseidon. When I finally found her she was sitting near a cluster of rocks, clearly trying not to be noticed by anyone. But as I prepared to tell her how I felt but as I looked at her, I thought about all the horrible ways she could reject me. And then humiliate me by telling everyone in camp about it. So instead I threw the helmet at her.

It bounced off the rock with a clang, clearly startling her. “What? Are you gonna cry because I told you, you sucked. What are you 5?”

“Go away, Luke,” she yelled. I once again felt a pang in my chest as I heard the trembling in her voice. Whether from rage or tears I wasn’t quite sure. But picturing her laughing in my face as she rejected me made me keep going.

“I see why your dad went back to your mom. He couldn’t have his only demigod child in decades be so weak like you.”

“I said go away!” she yelled, standing up. Her eyes were practically on fire as she looked at me with a burning glare. The ocean was getting choppier behind her before it lunged up into a huge wave, soaking me to the bone. I coughed when it finally receded and she was left there, standing dry. “Leave me alone or I’ll stuff you in a sewer pipe,” she threatened, walking off.

~

When I told Annabeth what happened she threatened to stuff me in a sewer pipe. But other than that she let it go and I hadn’t seen much of Y/N. Which hurt at times because I missed seeing her and I thought about her all the time but I honestly deserved that threat she gave me so I respected her wishes.

That was until I heard a scream and then a boy’s desperate yell. I was in the arena when I heard it and didn’t hesitate running towards the sound. There I found Percy and his sister at the edge of the forest. Percy was frantically pushing on his sister’s bleeding leg as she was getting visibly paler. He looked up, seeing me. “Do something!” he yelled.

I ran over, kneeling by her side. I could now see the wound clearly and it was deep. Deep enough to kill her from blood loss. She already had a puddle underneath her and I could see a trail coming from the woods. “Go get Chiron,” I told the boy. He nodded, getting up to sprint to the Big House.

I looked at Y/N’s face, surprised to see her still conscious. “Surprised you’re not cutting me further open,” she said through shallow breaths.

“Look, I’m sorry I’ve treated you like shit and I promise I’ll explain why when you’re better but I need you to focus on staying awake right now. Think you can do that?”

Despite the fact that my hands were keeping her from bleeding out she had the audacity to roll her eyes. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” I breathed. I felt ashamed realizing that was probably the first nice thing I had ever said to her.

Once some Apollo kids came and took her the Big House I went with them. But once they had her in the sickroom and everyone else was kicked out, I became wracked with guilt and worry. I made her life miserable. Why? Because I was afraid of my own feelings for her? I realized just how ridiculous that was. And I realized how little time I may have to actually confess my feelings.

“What happened, Percy?” Chiron’s words interrupted my thoughts.

“We were in the forest just trying to get some monster fighting experience when this big… dog—I think it was a hellhound—jumped at me out of nowhere. I guess she saw it first because she pushed me out of the way but its claws caught her leg,” Percy explained. “Is she going to be alright?” he asked, tears in his wide eyes.

“Yes, she should be fine,” Chiron assured the boy before sending a reassuring look to me too. Did everyone know I liked her? I briefly cursed Annabeth, she probably told him.

But soon enough Lee and Michael said we could go in so I followed Percy into the room. Her leg was wrapped in a pristine white bandage and the sheets must have been changed because they were also white in contrast to her bloody shirt and shorts.

“Percy, why don’t you go get her some clothes for when she wakes up?” I suggested. He looked reluctant but went anyway so I could talk to her. I took a seat by her head, observing her peaceful, beautiful face. “I don’t know if you can hear me but… at least you can’t reject me like this,” I said, letting out an empty chuckle. “But um I guess I'm fulfilling my promise. The reason I’ve been such an asshole to you is because… well… I think I’m in love with you. And I was afraid of my feelings and that you’d reject me so I took it out on you and I’m sorry for that. You didn’t deserve that.”

I sat there for a beat of silence, unsure what to do. But just before I stood up and left, I felt her fingers brush against mine. “Took you long enough to confess, jerk,” she said. I looked back at her, finding the slightest smile and her gorgeous eyes.

“So… you like me too?” I asked, my heart pounding with insecurity.

“Yeah, of course I do,” she admitted. I smiled, leaning down to press my lips to hers. When I pulled away to breathe she took the opportunity to speak. “If you tell anyone I’ll stuff you in a sewer pipe.”

“Sure you will,” I taunted her, connecting our lips again. This time I only pulled away when I heard a slightly squeaky voice.

“What are you doing with my sister?”

Masterlist

[frannyzooey]

On the Green: 4

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: age gap, mature-ish, bordering on explicit?

A/N: thank you thank you thank you to @imaswellkid for reassuring me that I actually understand this man in some capacity and for giving me praise when I needed it the most. ily. ❤ thank you also to @the-scandalorian who had the patience to decipher my half-asleep ramblings and assure me that I was on the right path. ily. ❤ and thank you to YOU, reader, for sticking with me during my unintentional months long hiatus of this story - I hope you enjoy!

Series Masterlist

--

The back of your suit disappears in the lush greenery as he follows you through the forest. You guide him deeper and deeper, the light reflecting off your helmet flickering between the leaves. Moss gives way to thick, creeping vines, and then the earth opens up into a deep, gaping pit. 

You stand at the edge, and his glove reaches through the air to pull you away from danger but before he can grasp your suit – you jump. 

You’re at the bottom of the pit together, your profile alight as he watches you dig. His eyes slip over the flutter of your lashes, the tip of your nose, your plush lips. You turn and say something to him, and he smiles. Opening his mouth to reply, he tries to take a breath in, but the air is…thinner. Like his suit has a leak. 

He checks his filter and when he looks up, you’re gone, the connection hose between your suits cut. 

You’re running again, and he’s chasing you. 

Ezra. 

It’s your voice, but it doesn’t sound the same as it does from within his helmet. It sounds like you’re outside of him and inside of him all at once, whispering his name. He loses sight of you, and panic blooms in his chest. His lungs constrict with every gasp for air, his body breaking out in a sweat underneath his suit and then several things happen all at once:

He’s in the pod with you beneath him, your body arching underneath his. 

A moan breaks free of your throat; a masked person hiding in the bushes before they disappear. 

A scream – he can’t decide if it’s a cry of ecstasy or of pain – and he’s pushing forward between your spread thighs. 

Ezra. 

He reaches for your face, your lips parting to allow for his thumb to press inside. 

He does; another masked person peering in through the pod window. 

Ezra, you moan. 

You suck hard on his thumb, a deep groan reverberating from his throat as his hips rock forward and — 

He jerks awake. 

With his heart pounding and his cock hard, you perch at the edge of his cot, your delicate face etched with worry. 

“Ezra. Ezra, hey.” 

Your hand presses down on his chest, and he covers it with his own for a moment as the surroundings of the pod become clearer, sharper. Your face comes into focus, a luminous, soft thing in the hazy dark and for a split second, he feels an overwhelming draw towards you. As if he should sit up and meet your mouth with his. 

His cock throbs, and he flinches. Shit. 

“Hey,” he breathes, taking his hand off yours. He sits up, trying to disguise the aching heft of his cock under his thermals. They leave nothing to the imagination – he knows, since he’s seen you in yours. 

“You okay?” you ask. “Another nightmare?”

He’s used to them after being in this line of work for as long as he’s been in it, but he’s not used to someone else seeing them. He feels slightly sheepish, but can’t decide if it’s because he feels vulnerable or guilty, like you know what he was dreaming about. 

“Seems so,” he replies, the corner of his mouth lifting ruefully. “Sorry to have woken you, Birdie.”

You shrug. “Wanna talk about it?”

He pauses. “Not particularly, no.”

He’s grateful for the way you immediately drop it. 

Weeks on the Green have left you with a certain sort of familiarity with each other, one that’s grown and flourished in the way only sharing a very small space allows. You know about his nightmares, and he knows things about you as well. 

He knows you prefer to start your day in silence: a hot beverage, your headphones, your journal. You look even younger then, swaddled in your blanket by the window, your face still puffy with sleep. 

You like it neat, a good balance to his own disarray. 

You’re a good cook, which has saved him from a diet that used to consist purely of Bits Bars. 

You’re methodical and measured, which, paired with his own impulsive ways, makes for a good partnership. 

However, he’s been careful beyond that. 

Whatever role you assumed during life with your father is not one he intends to make you relive. You’ve taken every single thing he’s thrown at you in stride, but to make up for it, he’s tried to balance the scales by teaching you anything he can. He hasn’t allowed you to assume the role of caretaker. You’re equals, or, if anything, he’s over corrected in some sort of fucked up recompense for everything you went through before this. Just like he promised, he’s protected you. 

And he’s needed to – with word getting out about your ship, he’s had to take care of two more people in the last month alone. He taught you how to shoot after you asked him to, and he was grateful for it later on when the second one almost got the better of him. It was a close call, and he hated you being in it. 

Hated the man more though, which he satisfied with a shot between his eyes. 

He blamed the pull towards you after that on the adrenaline, but he wasn’t being honest with himself. It began long before that. The lessons themselves had been tests of his self-control: your smaller back tucked against his chest, your eagerness and willingness to learn, the way you preened under his praise. 

He fucked his fist in the shower that night and blamed it on so many things: the needed release of stress, the forced proximity, how long it’s been since he was able to sink into a willing partner. His loneliness crept into the dark room while you slept that night and he thought about how, until now, it had been satisfied with your close companionship. 

That night, he’d laid awake and wondered how eager you’d be underneath his hands. 

Would you beg him to teach you what he likes? Would you ask for more the way you do now that he’s encouraged it?

Then the dreams started, and it got worse. Your face, so close to his each time you woke him. The warmth of your body next to his cot. They only made the urge to protect you fiercer, both from himself and the scavengers, and that didn’t even take into account the real threat. The one he’s waited for to show up since he found you. The one who he promised –

They appear in his dreams, alongside you. Hiding in the bushes, peering in the windows. But they aren’t ones who come looking. They wait for you to come to them, and so far, he’s avoided it at all costs. He made that deal when he was desperate for a ship, but now he’s more desperate to keep you safe.

You both need to get off this fucking planet. 

He shakes the thought of the others free as you crawl back to your own cot. Your headphones discarded on the floor next to your face down journal and your rumpled socks, you tug the blanket up around your shoulders, rolling over to go back to sleep. 

Too unsettled to follow you, he stays awake. 

–

He watches you frown in concentration, focusing on the tiny piece of metal in your hand. 

Your fingers are so much more nimble than his, but even you’re having a hard time finding purchase. It slips within your grip the longer you hold it, and not for the first time, he marvels at something seemingly so insignificant in size, yet so crucial to your plan. The converter in your palm is what sparks the engines to life – just a tiny scrap of intricate wiring, one of many that clips into a board that then fits neatly beneath a panel on the floor. 

And unfortunately, the thing that took the hardest brunt of impact upon your rough landing. 

There are forty in total needed and you have twelve that function. Thirteen, he counts, if you’re successful with this one. 

Satisfied with your work, you blow gently on the piece. His eyes drop to your mouth when you purse your lips, and it stays on your profile until you break his reverie, handing the converter to him. 

He blows out a breath, prepping the voltage pen. 

“Here goes nothing, little bird.”

He attaches the pen to the converter, and the pod is silent for a fraction of a second. 

His thumb presses forward and – red. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, letting out a heavy sigh. 

“I don’t understand what the issue is.” The statement is laced with frustration, and he runs a broad hand down his face before dropping it onto his lap. “Do you have any idea?”

You shake your head, defeat etched into your features. “I wish. I’ve rewired it a couple of times. I’m scared if I keep messing with it, it’ll strip what there is to work with.”

Leaning back on your hands, you arch your back to stretch the muscles and the action draws his gaze downwards, focusing on the way he can see your chest through your tight thermals. 

“I feel like we should call it,” you suggest. “We’ve been at it for ages, and I’m starving.”

You crawl over to the cupboard next to your bed, your pert little ass in the air as you rifle through the contents and he thinks about how he’s starving too. His mouth waters, and his tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip. 

“I can read through the manual again,” you start to say, the rest of your words fading into the background as he continues to stare. Your thighs, the flare of your hips, the peek he has of your cunt. He can see the shape of it through your leggings, a tiny hot little space that he imagines the heat of. He longs to touch it. It calls for his fingers, or his tongue and he imagines the taste of it through the thin material. 

What would you sound like if he put his mouth on you that way? Would you let him?

“Maybe I missed something.” You straighten, sitting on your knees to thumb through the pages of the ship’s manual and the youthful way you bite your lip as you study it stirs shame in his gut. It’s a sensation he’s not used to, and though it would normally be easy to ignore, he can’t. Not when it comes to you. 

You are so fucking young, and he needs to get out of here. 

Still, he wonders if you feel it like he does. The tension that fills the space sometimes, the magnet that pulls the two of you together. He might be inclined to say you don’t feel it…but he also knows people. He’s seen a flicker of interest on your face, he’s seen your pretty eyes hooded with what he’s sure was lust. With anyone else, he’d have already broached the subject of a…mutual arrangement, but with you, guilt stops him every time. He’s not used to the feeling stopping him from doing anything, but the imbalance of the situation is too much for even him to think about taking advantage of.

Though if you were to ask him, he wouldn’t say no. 

You continue to flip through the manual, and he imagines you making the first move. Asking him to help with an ache you have, telling him only his fingers could soothe it. You, hovering at the side of his cot, whispering please. It’s perverse, the dynamic that makes him throb. You, helpless and begging for relief, and him, competent and so very willing. 

Your youth plays into it, he’s sure. Your eagerness does too. You’re so sweet, and it’s been so long – which is exactly why he shouldn’t even think about sullying you with his dirty hands. 

You want it though, he can tell. Maybe not everything he wants, but you do want. You’ve dirtied your hands and liked it, reveled in the things he’s been able to teach you: how to defend yourself, how to shoot, how to dig and plot and survive. 

You’re a fighter, and he loves it. 

He feels your eyes on him. 

What would you do if he stood up and took what he wanted?

“Ezra?”

He blinks at the sound of your voice bringing him back to the present. 

“Want some dinner?”

“Sure.” . 

Watching you cook, he’s momentarily transported outside this pod, off this planet and into wherever you lived before this. Every action is a practiced, deft one. You work in silence, as if you’re used to it. A solitary creature, much like himself. Not by choice though – also much like himself. He’d almost think you prefer to be alone, but the way you’ve leaned into his companionship tells him differently. 

Feeling the guilt press against his ribcage again when he hungrily takes in the nape of your neck, he tamps it down. Helping you instead of fantasizing about you is the least he can fucking do. 

He comes to stand next to you, and you look up at him, confused. 

“Want some help?”

You smile, and he mirrors it, taking the meal packet from your hands. Dehydrated rations vacuum sealed in tiny pouches, he pours the contents of two into the pan on the stove, adding water. He stirs for a moment, watching a porridge of sorts form. Chicken, he thinks, from the color of it. 

“I can’t say this looks entirely appetizing.”

“Feel free to feast on your Bits bars,” you toss back, and the edge of his mouth lifts. 

“Now now, I didn’t say I wasn’t going to eat it.”

You set the bowls out, and he pours the contents of the pan into them, dividing the portions up. Your cots parallel to each other’s, he sits across from you, each of you cradling a bowl in your hands. 

Rain hits the roof harder, making the small space intimate. 

“What are we going to do if we can’t fix it?” 

Your question gives him pause, but it’s your face that affects him more. So open, so trusting. Looking to him for guidance and reassurance, and an image of you flat on your back on your cot with the same face flashes through his mind. He clears his throat.

“Somethin’ I’ve been trying to avoid,” he replies. “Though it seems that I can no longer.”

You wait, and he meets your eyes directly. 

“We’re going to have to scavenge some parts,” he says. You chew thoughtfully for a moment, and he keeps his eyes on your own, studying your expression. He lifts his eyebrow in question. “You ready to be my right hand man?”

“...I think so,” you reply hesitantly. “I mean, I’ve got the hang of the thrower.”

“That you do,” he agrees, taking a bite of his dinner. 

You picked it up much faster than he thought, but it shouldn’t have surprised him the way it did. You were a determined, fierce creature – one who was capable of so much more than you thought you were, and one who reveled in it every time he encouraged you to learn something new. Sometimes, when he thought about the man he never knew, he felt frustration flare bright. He wasted you. You could have been so much more, and not just a harvester partner either. 

You could still be so much more, he reasons – and not for the first time, he wonders what will become of you once you go home. He’ll be sad to miss it. 

“Do you think I can do it?”

He lets the question sit for a moment. Can you? Yes. Should you? That’s a question he can’t answer. You shouldn’t even be here in the first place. But you are here, and so you have to do what you have to do. 

He leans forward, as if to let you in on a secret. 

“I think you can do anything, little bird.”

You smile, and he returns it – but only for a moment, before his expression sobers. 

“We need a few things, and I don’t think we can get them all from the same ship. That means we’ll have to throw ourselves in the face of confrontation more than a few times. You understand?”

You nod. “What do you need me to do?”

The question is asked without hesitation, and he fights the urge to tell you to forget he ever said anything. That he’ll find another way to get the two of you out of here without putting you in direct danger. His mind races for an alternative…but there isn’t one. He knows what this place demands of people. There isn’t any hiding from it; it’s better you understand the risk and prepare for it. 

“I’ll be the muscle, you the mechanic. I’ll need your nimble fingers to harvest those converters. I know where we can find some, but it might take us a couple cycles to get them all.”

“Where?”

“The other prospectors that are here. They have ships – between those and some wreckage sites I’ve come across, I’m hopeful we can gather enough for what we need. I’m not sure if they’ll be functioning or not, but it’s worth a try.”

You nod in agreement, and he scrapes the rest of his bowl clean. Spooning it into his mouth, he catches the way your eyes linger on the action and he knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself. You make it too easy with your expressive face, and feeling guilty only goes so far against his impulses. 

Keeping his eyes on you, he sticks the spoon back in his mouth with relish, sucking it clean.

“Tastes sweeter than I thought it would,” he hums.  

You swallow hard, staring at his throat. He feels the thrill of victory, but only for a split second though, until the tension between your bodies immediately fills the small space. Your eyes hood, and his own calculating gaze narrows. He drags his tongue across his bottom lip, taking note of the way you watch it. 

Will you ask him now?

Taking a deep breath, you stand instead and reach for his bowl. 

He hands it to you, keeping his eyes on your ass while you walk away. 

—

It started with the lessons. 

Actually, it began in flickers before that: glimpses of his profile, the feeling of his arm across your chest when he stopped you from tripping over a vine, the sound of his steady breathing in the night. The lessons had only amplified it, dragging the fleeting sparks of attraction to the surface, letting them catch fire under the intensity of his presence. 

You asked him to teach you how to shoot and the whole while, you felt it dripping down your spine to pool between your thighs. Two suits between you, and every word he uttered through the comm link left you feeling stripped bare.

“Easy does it,” he murmured. The speaker in your helmet added husk to his voice, and that only made it worse. 

“Grip it harder,” he said, pressing his hand around yours, and your knees almost buckled. 

He must have felt the tension, because he brought it up afterwards. Not directly, but that was never his way. He danced around it, until he pounced. 

“Small space. Before. How did you…seek relief?” He lifted his eyebrows meaningfully. 

It was a bold question, but then again – everything he’s done told you he’s a bold man. 

“I don’t –” you shied away from the question, looking away. "Let's not talk about it.”

“So you didn’t.”

“I didn’t say that, I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“So you did?” His eyebrows raised. 

No, you didn’t, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. 

“Why are you so worried about it?” you asked instead, and he lifted his hands in surrender. 

“Not worried, little bird. Just curious.”

He was always curious - and that was the issue. It wasn’t true attraction he felt, but rather misplaced attraction on your part. When you thought about it for too long, you felt foolish and immature. It wasn’t him, it was the situation. He was too attentive for his own good, too charming. He thought of you as someone who was dependent on him, not someone to be attracted to. Besides, how could it be him? Not only someone with ages more experience than you, but also someone so…rough? A murderer?

A murderer that’s done so only for you, a small voice whispered inside your head.

Logic told you that you were too young, too inexperienced for a man like that. But it didn’t stop your treacherous mind from rebelling. 

You did seek relief that night, hours after he teased you about it. The second he went to shower, you laid down on your cot and spread your thighs and let the fire you felt earlier consume you. You recalled his words, his touch, the solid breadth of his body behind yours. It didn’t take long with how worked up you were, but afterwards, you felt overwhelming shame. You scolded yourself, telling yourself never again. It was a violation of his fucking privacy for fucks sake, a violation of his boundaries that you did it while he was stuck inside the same small container with you. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would mind, but still, the guilt consumed you for days, so bad that you couldn’t even meet Ezra’s eyes for fear that he would know. 

You felt like your fingertips were branded red, your come a permanent stain on the skin. 

Days later, you did it again. 

You couldn’t help yourself. It seemed like everything he did was unintentionally filthy. The phrases he said, the little grunts he let out while working, the strain in his voice sometimes through the helmet. Everything sounded like a double entendre to your horny, shameful ears and that said nothing for the way he looked at you. 

You never stood a chance against that empty promise to yourself. 

Weeks of living together has taught you that he likes to shower at night before bed, and tonight is no exception. You watch as he gathers his clothes from underneath his cot, his thermals stretching across his broad back. The muscles shift underneath the thin fabric, and you track every movement out of the corner of your eye. 

Pretending to clean the dishes, you’ve been waiting all day for this, and after today especially, it takes everything you have to feign nonchalance. 

That spoon. The way he licked it, the sound he made, the look on his face. The mental image joins others: his hands while he works, the shift of his back muscles underneath his thermals, the heat of his knee knocking into yours when he sits close. Sounds join: his breathing through the commlink, the soft sound in the back of his throat that he makes when he shifts in his sleep. 

Images and sounds cycle rapidly through your head, all joining the swirl of arousal that feels like an empty pit low in your belly and it’s everything you can do to wait until you’re sure he’s showering before you bend over the kitchen counter, thrusting a hand beneath your thermals. 

The second your fingers find slippery wetness, you sigh with relief. It’s a pained sigh though, one of desperation that has you rubbing the pads of your fingers over your clit with a steady, firm press as you bite your lip to quell the telltale sounds of what you’re doing. You hurt with the way you’ve wanted him, made worse by his close proximity. It’s been raining for days and you’ve been stuck inside with him and the sounds he made last night while he was sleeping echo in your mind. You breathe hard, condensation fogging the counter top.  

The sound of water splashing in the background, your imagination supplies the rest:

His tanned skin, flush with heat. His hair, even darker when wet. The line of his throat as he tips his head back, the swirl of hair around his belly button and down, the broadness of his shoulders in that small space. His forearms flexing as he washes himself – an image that automatically turns into his hand braced on the wall of the shower, steam filling the air around him as his other hand pumps frantically between his thighs –

You climb higher and higher, a heady pulse throbbing between your legs, your thighs trembling as you ascend with frantic, little whines between your clenched teeth. 

The phantom weight of his cock in your grip and then the smooth, blunt tip of it sliding across your cheek, between your breasts, your lips stretching around it as your tongue molds to fit the underside.

You don’t have a ton of experience under your belt, but you have enough to know what a cock feels like. His though? Would it be thicker? Bigger? You picture him stripping out of his suit the way he does, his thermal inching up just enough to see the thatch of hair that collects underneath his belly button to lead down beneath his waistband, and you start to come, pressing your face into the crook of your arm to muffle the sound. 

“Hello, sweetheart.”

“Watch my fingers.”

“Easy, easy, Birdie. That’s it.”

“Hold it nice and tight. That’s it.”

Every word he’s spoken to you taken out of context to supply the scene in your head, you bite the fabric of your thermal when you come. You let out a breathless sob, your cunt pulsing as the sparks of your release burst bright between your hips, and your fingers work the last dregs of it out, savoring the intensity of satisfying the ache you’ve felt all day.  

You slump against the counter, your limp hand resting between your thighs and catch your breath. The blood rushing through your ears fades, clarity bringing the sound of silence. 

Silence. 

The shower is off. 

–

He heard it. 

He thought he was hearing things as he dried off; lingering echoes that remained from his release moments ago. It was faint, but when he paused toweling, he heard it. 

A muffled groan, a soft whine and even while still feeling the throbs of the spend he painted the shower wall with, he begins to harden. 

He fucking knew it. He clasps himself in hand, giving his cock a firm squeeze, and listens. 

There is silence on the other side of the door, and he wonders where you are in the pod right now. Where did you end up when you took your relief? He pictures it, and the flare of lust that instantly clouds his vision almost has him opening the door without getting dressed. He’ll come and find you, push you down onto your cot, rip the clothes off that have been giving him everything and nothing all at once these weeks and finally consume you, like you’ve consumed him. 

He dresses quickly, pulling his thermals over still damp skin. Opening the shower compartment, he finds you at the sink, scrubbing your hands. 

In the kitchen? You didn’t even lay down on your cot? Your need must have been too urgent, and he grins at the idea. Will you let him fuck you there?

He feigns ignorance, coming to lean casually against the counter. Leaning in close, he wears a mask of politeness. “Thanks for cleaning up.”

“No problem,” you reply, not meeting his eyes. 

In any other situation, he’d revel in the game of cat and mouse. He’d plot out ways to get you to break or bend to his will, letting you dangle on the edge until you were begging him for relief. But now…he pauses.

“You okay, Birdie?”

“Yea.” Your expression is one of fake brightness, your eyes giving it away. “Just…thinking about tomorrow.”

It’s clear that’s not the whole truth. He knows what he heard and from the rapid beat of your pulse under your delicate skin tells him that you’re obviously hiding something, but the mention of tomorrow is like being doused with cold water. 

Tomorrow, when he brings you out into the Green, putting you in the path of danger that you never asked to be in. You never asked for any of this, and he feels sickened at the previous idea of pushing you down on your cot to take what you’re “offering”. He should be focusing on preparing you for the danger that’s out there. He knows better than this, and for the first time in a long time, he feels chastened. 

“You’ve got this,” he reassures you, and though he can feel the slight hitch in your breathing when his hand rests on your shoulder, he ignores it. “We’ve got this. As your partner, I swear on my life I won’t let anything happen. Understand?”

He feels you lean slightly into his touch, and suppresses the urge to pull you close. It’s been a long time since he’s comforted anyone, and he’s surprised the impulse comes back so quickly. 

You look up at him, and the impulse grows with how vulnerable you look. So open, so trusting – yet resolute in your faith in him. 

You nod. “We’ve got this.”

[somerandomcockroach]

I will use this post as an excuse to ramble about body types because MAN, you just made me understood that they have broad variety of body types (PLUS I LOVE HAIR FOR JAZZ IN THERE SO MUCH, I was drawing him with Blast Off's style (because how he can keep longer hair under helmet...) but nah, after saw their designs it felt strange, Blast Off ruled it wheeeezeee)

*raises up hands pointing* Took these four, Jazz' type would have been more loose one? Natural, he doesn't train intentionally, he just moves a lot, freestyle trained like body type Brawl would have more of a boxer type of body, eats a lot, lifts weights a lot, endurance sucks *inhales* Onslaught. Onslaught is a machine. He is a young uncle Iroh. I can see him working out at morning and at evening and even at night, he is a machine, also can see Blast off cooking according to his diet and Ons might notice it. He built his body with sweat and man, he is a human titan Blast Off. THE MOMENT I SAW HIS DESIGN I WAS SOLD. I THINK I LOVE HIS DESIGN ONE OF THE MOST AHAHSGAH. He has little weight, his upper body is trained good, mobile, Miles Morales type but hands pumpier

[thechocolatearmor]

OK OK OK OK OK people talk about sniper, or pyro, or medic being autistic right?

B u t

What if I told you all of them are?

Every single one.

Engineer? He's autistic. Soldier? Autistic. Frickin Spy?? Omgsh he's so autistic

So because my brain won't stop itching about this I'm going to write up a collection of all the evidence I have for why the TF2 mercenaries possess within their beings the big tism. By the time this is over y'all are going to be very sick of the word autism.

But IDC

So without further ado, let's go through each of these silly mercs one at a time:

Scout:

Alright, first up we got Scout. Scout I would consider to be AuDHD for multiple reasons

The ADHD is more obvious but like dude trust me he's autistic too

He's hyperactive, forgetful, gets distracted easily, kind of the basic stereotypical ADHD stuff you would notice immediately. He stims, he fidgets, he struggles in social situations, he's seen as over the top and a bit annoying, he talks a lot

Now a lot of these traits are things that are common for both autistics and adhders. But I wanna point out some things I notice about him that are autism specific

He has a special interest: It's Tom Jones. Honestly he probably has a special interest about baseball too

But I mean c'mon he's literally has a Tom Jones tattoo

You could argue this is just a hyperfixation but I bet it's been going on for a while

He also has "spikey" skills. Really good at stuff like drawing, dancing, sports, but he sucks at things like reading, math, etc

Mostly what makes me see him as autistic it's how he struggles in social situations. Bro doesn't know how to flirt unless he's got a bucket of chicken on hand

Soldier:

Honestly if anyone's autistic coded it's soldier

Special interest is all things American, especially if it relates to the military

Lots of autistic people wear certain items that remind them of something they like, usually disregarding things like how it looks or even whether or not it's comfortable. Soldier's helmet is way too big for him but he's almost always wearing it anyway

In meet the spy he does "hut hut hut" when he's doing down the stairs and it makes me so happy

He has no filter, he takes things really literally, he often sees suggestions as orders (teleporting bread anyone?)

Also when he says he's been doing nothing but teleport bread for 3 days it makes me think he must've been hyperfocused on that

I don't think he knows anything about volume control since he's yelling everything

What kind of neurotypical fights bears in Siberia while naked and covered in honey

He speaks his mind rather than beating around the bush

His helmet could also double as helping him avoid eye contact

Pyro:

Tell me they don't have aversion to like every texture besides their suit you can't

A lot of their animations are super stimmy

Pretty much nonspeaking

Has childish interests

Could also have schizophrenia? (I'm relatively uninformed about it tho so I might not be a good person to judge)

I bet half of their little mmph mmmph noises are audio stims

Special interest is fire

their stim is ARSON

Demo:

I headcanon him as AuDHD too

I mean tbf a lot of how he is is more related to alcoholism but shhh let me have this

But I mean he made friends with Soldier

Special interest in medieval weapons which would explain why he's crazy about swords?

Drinking could be an unhealthy coping mechanism/safe food

Probably also depressed with how he can never live up to his family's expectations

Infodumping about bombs in his introduction video

Honestly most of my "evidence" for him is just fanon but idc I like autistic Demoman

Heavy:

Whether or not him having a PhD in Russian literature is canon, some of his in game lines show him to be very poetic and thoughtful

The fact that he only has a few food items but always seems super happy to be eating them gives me safe food vibes

He sings and hums a lot, probably as a stim

He has the Resting Autism Face™

Special interest in his gun

A lot of his voice lines also just feel really stimmy to me, especially when he's doing the "YATATATATATA" thing

Not sure he has any volume control either

Seems to genuinely enjoy Medic's morbid stories, at least to a point

He really really really really really likes the song of the Volga boatmen in particular

He's the prettiest princess it's canon, you can't be a pretty princess without being autistic /j

He has a tiny bed for Sasha. HE HAS A TINY BED FOR SASHA

Heavy is often criticized as a class because guess gameplay is relatively simple and can become a little stale for a lot of people. Yet Heavy seems to have some of the most excited voice lines in the game. I feel like this emphasizes how much he thrives in routine, since he seemingly never gets bored of just doing his thing

Engie:

He has 11 phds

A lot of his voice lines also sound really stimmy to me. Either he's going YEEHAWW GIDDY UP or he's yelling DAMNIT DAGNABIT DANGIT DAGGIT NABBIT

Probably a lot of echolalia with that too

He humanizes his buildings and cares for them like a mother bird

Just listen to his genuinely heartbroken when his sentry gets taken down!

When playing Engie sometimes I find myself smacking stuff with my wrench even though I KNOW it's already level 3 and maxed and whatnot, or I KNOW I'm out of metal, just because I wanna hear the clang noise. So this point is just me projecting but I love the mental image of Engie giving his things a few extra whacks too

He sawed off his arm for his special interest

His whole monologue in meet the engineer is so autistic sounding to me

His dancing taunt also feels stimmy

He's always hunched over, implying irregular posture

He's a NERD—

Man of many talents including playing the guitar

Never takes those goggles off

How does he turn a stressful TF2 match into a (not so) relaxing tower defense game?

Medic:

I headcanon him as AuDHD too because he seems really scatterbrained and it feels like he's working on several things at once and always

He talks a LOT. definitely an infodumper

Either he's super stern or really giggly, there is no in between

He wears gloves in battle but not while doing surgery??? Does he just like organ textures??? Wacko

Special interest is obviously whatever the heck kinda of mad science he does

Here's a heavy medic headcanon I have: medic likes deep pressure hugs

Another special interest could be his birds

He's very spontaneous which makes me think AuDHD even more

Look how excited he gets when taking about the tumors in expiration date!

He got the organ stealing autism

Is it just me or does he fixate on baboon organs in particular???

Sniper:

I'm pretty sure all of you know why this man is autistic but I'm going to list some reasons here anyway

My main evidence tho are his Halloween voice lines: https://youtu.be/2WDljNAslys?si=JP25VOGGDWwwoCI7

Exhibit a, look how much he enjoys having an owl head

Exhibit b, lots of those voice lines make him sound really freakin' overstimulated

He probably wears the hat and shades for sensory reasons as well as because they look cool

Obviously the most socially reclusive of the mercs

I love his backstory where he learns he never felt like the other kids because he wasn't actually Australian, but what if he also didn't fit in with the other kids because he's autistic?

Also throwing rocks at people as a kid screams autism to me

No neurotypical would ever throw jars of his own piss at you either

I think he just wants to live in the woods somewhere and never come back to society and honestly that's based

I feel like he would be the type to bite his own arm when stressed (just like me fr 😭)

Extremely meticulous in following his own life rules (ie being professional and having standards, driving safely with the turn signal and everything)

Spy:

Ok just hear me out for this one

Smoking because stim reasons

He's literally and figuratively masking

He's very suave and probably really good with social things, but I feel like it looks like he's just practiced really hard, again MASKING

Who knows he might not even actually be French

Who collects photographic evidence for a ur mom joke

I see him as either being hypersensitive or hyper insensitive to pain depending on the day (his screams + "I do believe I'm on fire.")

Mad butterfly knife tricks as a stim? (Notice he couldn't help but fiddle with them even disguised as scout in meet the spy)

He sucks at dealing with relationships and that's one of the reasons he's a bad dad

He actually really cares about his team and you can see it especially in expiration date but he's not very good at expressing it

Do you think he wears the ski mask for sensory reasons too?

Probably has his suits tailored to not give him any sensory issues, which could be another reason he likes them so much

Believe me I could go on but I think this is enough to get my point across

THEY ARE ALL AUTISTIC >:00