#rvb fluff

[positiveoatmilkmotel]

(with my mouth really close to the microphone) can you do sillies locoboose......... smiley

locoboose cuddling! 💙⭐

i wonder what their favorite color is- surely their matching PJ set has nothing to do with it! /j

[readersregrets]

Hello!! It's my first time requesting a fic type thing so I have no idea what I'm doing but would you be willing to write for North x reader Fluff or headcanons from Red Vs Blue? It was my favorite show and now that I'm getting back into it I have a major lack of content from the fandom, so whenever you like pretty please.

North Dakota/Reader fluff

( -_•)▄︻デ══━一

You weren't special, not a freelancer or a high-ranking worker, but you were important. You were never meant to be a soldier, a guard, or a weapon shaped by the program. You were a technician. Not the best, but you never fucked anything up, and that made you a shiny cog in a machine full of them. Even if very few people ever bothered to notice. While armored figures moved through the halls of the Mother of Invention with purpose and authority, you lived in the background. Beneath consoles. Inside maintenance shafts. Elbow deep in systems that were falling apart faster than the Director would ever admit.

Most nights found you on the floor with tools scattered around you, hands blackened with oil and dust from corners that never got cleaned, quietly fixing what everyone else depended on and rarely acknowledged. You didn't complain. You didn't demand recognition. You simply did the work because someone had to, and also, you fucking live here.

Agent North Dakota first saw you during the later hours, when the ship was most quiet, and the air felt colder. Those are the hours when Theta struggles most. Sleep doesn't come easily for an AI that thinks two hundred times faster than everyone else, and North going for a walk is an easy way to help soothe him.

North finds you during those hours, always working, always mumbling, humming, or cursing softly under your breath as you repair pipes and fix wires with a focus so complete it makes the rest of the world fall away. The only wariness you show for either of them is thinking out loud about how much it would suck not to taste things. You speak to him gently. You explain things as you work. You never treat him like a problem to be managed.

That alone earns Theta’s trust. It also earns North’s.

North notices all of it. It only deepens the trust he already places in you.

Theta’s sleepless nights mean North’s sleepless nights. North never pulls him offline. It scares him. So North stays awake, even when he knows he will be punished for it later.

When Theta apologizes for needing comfort, North always tells him the same thing. Never apologize for needing comfort.

Eventually, you start joining the three AM walks. Theta loves you for it.

From that point on, North starts gravitating towards you when he's not with his sister or the other freelancers. He lingers nearby during downtime. He chooses routes through the ship that happen to pass wherever he can hear your voice. He watches your hands with the same attention he gives a battlefield. You become part of his nights, walking the halls with him and Theta in tired, companionable silence.

There is no single moment of realization. Instead, it happens slowly, quietly, in pieces.

It happens when he notices that being near you makes the constant pressure of everything ease just a little. It happens when he realizes he trusts you around Theta without having to worry about what either of them says. It happens when he doesn't just walk back to his room when Theta feels better and waits for you to be done so he can escort you back to yours and make sure you actually sleep in your own bed and not one of the cafeteria tables.

You never demand anything from each other. You simply exist in each other's space with patience and kindness. That is enough.

Despite being one of the deadliest shooters on the ship, North is never gentle with you. He touches you confidently. His hands are always warm. Grounding. Steady. When he rests them on you, it feels intentional every single time.

Physical affection starts small. Sitting next to you and leaning so close that your heads bonk into each other. His elbow finds your shoulders while you chat to other people. Standing slightly in front of you without consciously meaning to. He puts up a good front of such a civil and composed man, but you can read the possessiveness between the thoughts.

He doesn't rush intimacy. When you finally kiss, it is slow and steady and full of warmth. He isnt gentle about this either.

Theta adores you. Any kindness you show the AI is returned tenfold. Theta feels safer when you are present. He sleeps more easily when you join the late-night walks. He trusts you completely. He set off little fireworks when you and North kissed for the first time.

North worries about you constantly, but he is careful not to let that worry become suffocating. He respects your competence and your independence. He never doubts your ability to do your job. Still, he's overly aware of the difference in your ranks and the risks in that, and it never leaves him.

His attention tracks your position automatically. South teases him about it more than once, calling it a permanent babysitting instinct. North only shrugs. He doesn't feel the need to explain himself.

Your job means you spend entire months on the ship without leaving, and his means he goes weeks off of it, so he checks in the moment he can. If you seem tired, hungry, hurt, or distracted, he notices before you say anything.

If you are cold, he runs back to his room to throw one of his old jackets at you. If you forgot to eat yesterday, he's sneaking some of his own food onto your tray. If you are exhausted, he slows his pace so you don't need to bother catching up.

Caring for you becomes reflexive.

North doesn't hide his affection like a secret. But he doesn't ever reveal it to anyone else either. He stands close to you. He keeps an arm around you. He holds your arm in crowded rooms where the cameras can barely track you.

Anyone who notices doesn't say anything. This is not something he will apologize for.

Wash once mutters that the two of you look like a rom-com montage while he is trying to eat. North only pulls you closer, you ask why the fuck Wash is eating with his helmet on.

He is quietly proud of you. He brags without bragging, mentioning your work or your skills in casual ways that make it clear how highly you should be regarded.

North doesn't need noise or constant conversation. His favorite moments with you are the quiet ones. Sitting beside you while you write down notes that, yes, Mr. Price, you do need to dust your consoles every few years and can't just neglect them and be surprised when they break! Leaning against each other during late-night watch shifts while you consider murder after someone put tinfoil inside the microwave. Polishing his equipment. ;)

Your presence grounds him. With you, he allows himself to rest in a way he rarely does.

North is quietly one of the smartest people in the program. He reads people well. He notices intentions. He understands things long before others do.

North’s trust is rare and deeply given. Once you have it, he relies on you in ways he doesn't rely on others. You become an anchor, alongside Theta and South.

North remembers everything about you. Important dates. Preferences. Injuries. Allergies. Passing comments you made months ago. He writes things down if he has to. Forgetting something about you simply doesn't feel acceptable to him.

That is the moment you realize you love him.

To the rest of the program, Agent North Dakota is calm, capable, and unshakable.

With you, he is warm and worried and deeply gentle in a way he allows almost no one else to see. Loving you is something he chooses every day, intentionally and without hesitation.

[somewhere-along-the-lines8468]

I like to imagine that as time passes, Carolina continues her attempts to relax with the help of the reds and blues. That after everything that happened on Chorus, Dr. Grey orders the whole group to have designated r&r time. What better place to do this than the local recreational center?

At the subtle hints Simmons drops about wanting to go fishing with Sarge, they finally have the chance to make this wish reality, made perfect by Griff opening a can of beer beside them. Sarge bitches at them when Griff forgets the bait, Simmons happily kisses his ass, and Griff chows down on some watermelon, getting his appetite ready for the fish they'll hopefully catch.

Donut, Carolina and Wash go to the zumba class. They mostly went to shut up Donut, but everyone gets strangely competitive. Not that any of the other guests are complaining, they certainly love to gossip, which Donut loves to indulge ofc.

Doc, Caboose, Tucker and Kai go to yoga together, clearing the mind and soul. It's easier for some (Caboose) than others. Admittedly, every time the yoga instructor tells them to switch poses, Doc has to shush the other three from repeating the same conversation over and over again:

"Now for downward dog-" "Now THAT'S what I'm talking about, Bow chicka bow wow!" "HOT-" Kai couldn't help but laugh.

"Who said that??" "Tucker did it."

"Guys, please - I don't want to get kicked out again!" Poor Doc.

It all becomes a part of their routine. Their lives can get busy for sure, but those classes at that recreational center are now somewhat sacred to them. Do they stress out the staff to no end? Absolutely. But I like to imagine that as they leave the center around sundown, Carolina's mischievous smirk she lost as a kid returns on her scarred lip, never to leave in the presence of the reds and blues.

Anyway yeah, I wanna make more fanart of all of them fucking around at the recreational center, but for now here's Carolina cuz she's my fav and I love her SO much.

[agent-washingtub343]

I have another HC that Doc would leave little happy notes to the Reds, Blues, and Freelancers to make their days brighter. He signs them off as 'Anon' or ' Anonymous', even though everyone knows that it's him.

“This is the third one this week.”

“Relax, Grif. You know how much Caboose and Donut love them. It’s not doing any harm.”

“That’s precisely my point, Tucker. It may not be doing them any harm, but it’s definitely harming me. Do you know how annoying it is to go to grab a bag of snacks only to come face-to-face with a cheesy quote?” Grif waved his chip bag in emphasis, yanking off a sticky note to read. “Like seriously, who thinks ‘You’re beautiful inside and out, as a medic I can confirm this!’ is uplifting? It’s just plain creepy if you ask me.”

Tucker rolled his eyes, “alright, so not all of them are the best. Who cares? All that matters is he’s content and so is Caboose. You know how hard the events with Church hit Caboose.”

Grif heaved a sigh, “okay, but he needs to at least tone it down. You can agree that the amount of notes is a little overkill.”

“Whatever you say, Grif.” Tucker opened a cupboard and a note fell out.

Grif shook his head, “speak of the devil.”

Tucker ignored him as he began to read, “‘your eyes are like the sea, maybe that’s why they’re beautiful and you can ‘sea’ so clearly’. Oh my God. He’s as bad as you.”

Grif burst into laughter, “oh ho ho, that one’s the best yet! I’m going to have to compliment Doc on that one.”

Tucker pocketed the note regardless. He picked up his coffee, eyeing it to see if he should add more sugar.

Grif leaned back in his chair, popping a chip into his mouth. “They’re so stupid, I don’t know why they’re so ba-a-a-dass, am I right Tucker?”

“What?” Tucker lowered the coffee, “you were just saying-”

“That they were amazing, isn’t that right, Tucker?”

Tucker turned around in disbelief, his eyes shooting to Grif, then to the doorway where Simmons was waving notes excitedly.

“Grif, take a look at these! Doc dropped them off this morning, aren’t they great?” Simmons beamed from ear to ear, sliding into the chair next to Grif. “They compliment my excellent technical skills quite accurately, even for an anonymous admirer.”

“Hey, yeah, these are great, Simmons.” Grif took a note, giving the other man a wide grin after he read it.

“You guys gonna share or..?” Tucker sipped his coffee, frowning. It was still too dark. He turned back around and rooted through the cupboard for sugar packets.

“Well, they’re basically math jokes, but if you’d like to hear them-”

Tucker snorted and made a face, “ugh, no offense Simmons, but I don’t do nerd jokes.”

“Yeah, yeah, we didn’t think so,” Grif waved him off, peering at another note in Simmon’s hand.

“Finally, I thought we were out!” Tucker pulled out the packet, pulling the sticky note off. “‘Hey sugar you’re pretty sweet’, okay, I should definitely use that one.”

“If you use that on my sister, I think she’ll laugh you out of the room.” Grif snorted, casually placing an arm around the back of Simmon’s chair.

“Not if I find a clever way of giving her this note,” Tucker waved it triumphantly, stirring his sugar into the coffee. A sip confirmed it had achieved perfect sweetness.

Sometimes everyone needed a little happy note.

[mexicancarolina]

Stop worrying (Simmons x Red!Reader)

Pairing: Simmons x Red!Reader  Rating: General Warning(s): First kisses, light drunkness.  Prompt: #55 Shut up and kiss me.  You decide to loosen up with Simmons, drinking and enjoying yourselves when he confesses he has never given his first kiss. You decide to change that only to make things more awkward. 

“I’ve never kissed someone,” Simmons told you. 

What started with a quiet evening with you, Simmons and Grif drinking ended up only with the two of you just talking after Grif had said he just wanted to plop down on his room and sleep to then leave. 

Your quirked your eyebrows, not quite believing that. Simmons was a huge virgin, that was right, but never have kissed someone? 

“What do you mean? What about that time with Gri—”

“That does not count!” He cried out, covering his face with his robotic hand in embarrassment. 

You only smiled, not with mischief or derision, just kindly. You nudged at his side, “Hey, it’s okay.” You told him with a relaxed sigh. “It had been a while since I kissed anyone. I stopped worrying about it a long time ago.” 

In the silence, you took another sip of your drink, leaving it aside. 

“I could give you your first kiss.” You said out of the blue, or maybe it was the alcohol talking. You shrugged, with a strange feeling of anxiety starting to bubble in your stomach. 

Simmons’ face reddened more as he stuttered over his words. “...But...but, what about the ambiance...the...”

“Shut up and kiss me already. Stop worrying, it’s just a kiss.” 

Pulling at his shirt, you dragged him close to you, looking into his human eye before pressing your lips to his as softly as you could. You cradled his face in your hands and tried to drink in the feeling.

You noticed how his body stiffened, pursing his lips together awkwardly; before he pulled away, his hands made their way to your shoulders, pushing you away gently.

“That was...”

”Weird.” Simmons finished the sentence as if all the alcohol you had been drinking left his system instantly.

“Most first kisses are always weird.” You looked away, laughing it off nervously as you tried to hide how your face flared.

“Can we...Can we do it again?” He had lowered his gaze to his lap and to his hands, like expecting a negative response from you.

“Sure, why not?”

This time, it was him who kissed you, placing two metallic fingers to tilt your chin up towards his face, actually trying to participate more the moment your lips touched. You moaned in surprise into his mouth, closing your eyes softly, body melting against his in such a pleasurable feeling you didn’t know you missed until now.

Turns out, you only had to stop worrying and enjoy it. 

[readersregrets]

I didn't know that people were still doing requests for red vs blue!! Could I please request romantic head cannons for Agent Florida/Flowers?

Agent Florida/reader

( -_•)▄︻デ══━一 ( •<•)

Florida is one of the very few people capable of making a power struggle feel affectionate. Most Freelancers are competitive by nature. Every interaction becomes a challenge. Every challenge becomes a contest. Somehow Florida manages to take all that tension and turn it into something playful instead.

He finds it incredibly entertaining when other people forget how dangerous you are. Not because he doubts your abilities, but because he knows exactly what you are capable of. Watching people underestimate you never stops being funny.

Florida has a habit of resting an arm around your shoulders and absentmindedly keeping you tucked against his side while continuing whatever conversation he was having. The longer you stay together, the less either of you notices it.

When you become annoyed about something, he somehow gets even calmer. It is impossible to bait him into an argument when he decides he is enjoying himself.

The more dramatic your frustration becomes, the more amused he is behind his visor.

Florida loves competence. He loves watching you work. He loves watching you win. He loves watching other people realize exactly how badly they have underestimated you.

What he loves even more is knowing that the terrifying Freelancer everyone else worries about occasionally chooses to curl up beside him after a difficult day.

There is something deeply satisfying to him about the fact that you trust him enough to stop being scary for a little while.

Florida's version of possessiveness is less jealousy and more quiet certainty. He never feels the need to constantly prove your relationship because he already knows where he stands with you.

If somebody flirts with you, he is usually entertained rather than threatened.

If somebody disrespects you, the amusement is saved for later activities.

One of the most attractive things about Florida is how effortless his confidence feels. He does not need to dominate every room he enters. He does not need constant validation. He knows exactly who he is.

That confidence becomes especially obvious whenever the two of you are alone. He has an almost unfair ability to make you feel completely naked, even in full gear.

Despite his reputation for being easygoing, Florida notices every reaction. Every shift in posture. Every glance. Every nervous habit. His observational skills are terrifying when focused entirely on you.

Sometimes it feels like he knows what you are thinking before you do.

The thing that makes him dangerous is not his strength.

People tend to forget how absurdly strong he is because of how relaxed he acts. Then they watch him casually move equipment that normally requires multiple people or physically separate two fully armored soldiers who are trying to kill each other, and suddenly it becomes very obvious why he was a top Freelancer.

Lifting you off your feet barely registers as difficult. The first time it happens is usually accompanied by complete disbelief on your part and quiet amusement on his.

At the same time, he enjoys seeing what happens when you let your guard down around him. Most people only know the version of you that is always alert and prepared. Florida gets to see the version that relaxes. He gets to bite at it.

He is very pleased with the trust involved whenever you allow yourself to be vulnerable around him. Project Freelancer did not exactly encourage vulnerability. The fact that you choose to give him that part of yourself is a very big ego boost.

Physical affection with Florida often involves being trapped in some capacity. Not intentionally. He is simply dexterous, strong, and has absolutely no concept of personal space once he gets comfortable.

Sitting beside him often turns into being partially pinned beneath him when he decides he wants to lean closer. He pretends to never notice exactly how much space he occupies.

Florida enjoys reminding you that there is a difference between winning a fight and winning a wrestling match. Could you beat him in combat? Absolutely. Could you break free once he has wrapped both arms around you and decided he is not letting go? That becomes a much funner question.

It is the fact that he understands exactly how much strength he possesses and never feels the need to prove it.

Which somehow makes those rare moments when he does decide to remind you all the more impossible to forget.

[agent-washingtub343]

For the request how about some red team locus?

This was a joke. A curse, a punishment to serve as recompense for all the horrors he committed. 

This? This was a new kind of hell. He had agreed to help one man on his journey because their interests had correlated and now..

Now he stood before a shell of what may have been a once great and strong man, now broken by the effects of whatever hell he had walked through. 

Or, the man had simply lost his mind from his time as a sim soldier. 

“We ain’t goin anywhere before we find out who’s leadin the rescue mission.” Sarge insisted, continuing the movements for rock, paper, scissors, entirely oblivious to Locus’ judgmental stare.

He can’t seriously be leading the Red team. Locus frowned at the persistent movements, Sarge entirely engrossed in getting him to participate. No wonder Grif has gone insane.

Sarge stared at him intensely, never breaking stride with the three taps, forming a rock. Locus stared disbelievingly back. 

It was at this moment, Locus realized, he would have to join the Red team so it would have some form of competent leadership. That is, if they even made it out of this situation alive.

Slowly and deliberately, almost as if he was readying to take out a target, Locus raised his hands, clenched a fist, and performed the customary rock, paper, scissors movement. Eyeing the fist Sarge had just made, Locus swiftly straightened his hand out. Paper beats rock.

“What? Impossible! I demand a rematch! Best out of three.”

“We don’t have time for that,” Locus replied smoothly, “I’ve already freed Agent Carolina and Agent Washington. Where are the others being kept?”

Sarge grumbled, crossing his arms petulantly. “Temple has them in the detention center, a few levels down.”

“Let’s get moving,” the mercenary smirked beneath his helmet.

Maybe joining the Red team wouldn’t be as bad as he had initially thought.

[agent-washingtub343]

Agent Maine flirting

It was a trainwreck from the very beginning, and he wasn’t even sure it would lead to anything.

It was a normal training morning, he was in the weightroom with his friend, well, friend was too simple a word for their relationship. Partner was more fitting. They worked seamlessly together, always on the same wavelength. He never really had to verbalize his feelings or thoughts around him, his partner just had an uncanny ability to pick up on it.

Building strength was an integral routine in every training session. It was also standard procedure to monitor your partner should they need assistance. Except, he was more so distracted by the other man’s physique. His partner’s face was drenched in sweat, strands of his vibrant blonde hair fell in front of a handsome face. The other man’s grey eyes turned in his direction, and the weight in Agent Maine’s hand slipped from his grip.

Directly onto his foot.

He let out a muffled curse, stooping to remove the offending item before he fell and caused further damage.

“Hey, you okay?” The other man rushed to his side, steadying him as Maine swayed unsteadily while pulling the weight off his foot.

The pain was inconsequential as he felt the man’s warmth to his side. The contact sent electricity spiking through his veins, his tongue turning to sandpaper as he made eye contact with his partner.

The other man’s face flushed as Maine rose to his full height, their faces inches apart as the taller man looked down. “Maybe you should sit down. Your foot could use some ice.”

“You kept me from falling.” Maine’s voice was low, slightly gravely from disuse.

The man blinked, “I-I suppose I did.” He shifted on his feet nervously.

“Was it to keep me from falling for you?” The words felt silly. Childlike. Especially coming from someone like him.

The man laughed, the sound rich and light. “Did York teach you that one?”

It was Maine’s turn to blush. He had heard it once from York, aimed at Carolina, before she laughed at him and walked away. Perhaps he shouldn’t be taking note of York’s phrases, after all.

The man smiled, and Maine’s gaze caught on his lips. He didn’t dare breathe as the man leaned forward, planting a small kiss on Maine’s nose. 

He blinked, and swallowed thickly. “Wash-”

“We should get you some ice,” Washington ducked his head, blushing profusely. Maine didn’t bother hiding his dorky smile as the smaller man led him to a bench to sit down.

Maine watched Washington walk to the ice machine across the room, the other man’s face was still bright red. Perhaps his flirting was rough, but that never mattered to his partner.