#it looks like a nuclear war head went off in that room | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

idesofrevolution · 16 days

Text

The Journey of Dr. Santana Fabrega

There's nothing quite like your bro slobberin' over your sweaty feet while tokin' on a hookah. Let me just tell you- everybody's happy. I'm stoked to be stoned and minty fresh, and he's happy to taste my ripe size 12's. Who isn't the happiest? The folks. Sure, I dropped out of college, sure I started focusing one hundred percent on my art, sure I have a parade of guys out of my little basement lair... but I never got why they had to be such fuckin' buzzkills.

Ever since they joined that church when I was at uni, my parents have been sucked into the Evangelical cult. Not the whole lifting your hands up to Jesus & speaking in tongues sort of church, by the way. Man, they're out there with picket signs at sex clinics, bannin' books at the high school, all that crazy fuckin' Christian Nation bullshit. They're my parents, so I love 'em and whatever. But fuck, those psychos really fucked 'em up. So now, their crusade is "curing" me of my gayness. Didn't really matter that I'm pan, they don't really know the difference. They don't really care about the difference, though. Not straight, not right.

So when they caught me the other day with Sam cleanin' my dick in the basement, it was World War 3. Man, a Nuclear Bomb would have less energy than my mom's hysterical shrieking. It's Florida, so it's nothing the neighbors haven't heard before. But, shit. I thought my eardrums were gonna pop. They stomped off upstairs, bein' all 'we are going to talk about this later, Santiago.' So, I let Sammy finish up, I pulled on some shorts and I went upstairs to face the fire while he snuck out the basement window. Fuck, I wished I were him.

The 'family meeting' went about as well as you'd expect. Threats of burning in hell for all eternity, demands that I find the Lord, etc. Apparently he doesn't like a lot of things about me: my weed, my tattoos, my sexuality, my piercings, my hair for some reason? I don't know man, I just tuned out after a while. What I did catch, though, they were sending me to substance abuse counseling. Couldn't help but laugh, and that sent dad through the fuckin' roof.

"Doctor Fabrega is going to teach you some manners, young man. Make you a Godly man, like you should be." Yada yada yada. He should have known better than to give me the doc's name. After the ass reaming, I made my way back downstairs to the computer. It took five minutes of research to find this Doctor Fabrega. Turns out he's a Christian Therapist, but that wasn't what was most interesting. Down in his specializations, buried beneath substance abuse & cognitive behavioral therapy was a word that caught my eye: licensed Hypnotherapist.

I knew exactly what kind of bullshit they were tryin' to pull on me. But when I was enrolled at U Miami, my major was Psychology. Not only that, but I still happened to have access to the university library. Oops.

I texted Sammy, knowing I was gonna be up all night doing research, and that my dick would need some appropriate attention under the desk. I was gonna show this motherfucker just how sick it really is to be like me.

---

The waiting room was bullshit. Cold white walls, bright wood floors... It looked straight out of an IKEA ad. I'd already been there for like 20 minutes past my appointment time, giving me just enough time to scroll through the last chapter on my phone. I hear the receptionist call out my name, and I head toward the office. Just as bullshit as the waiting room. It's like the guy wants to live in a psych ward- no color anywhere. At least get a blacklight or something.

"Santiago Rivera. Welcome, I'm Dr. Fabrega." The guy was hot as fuck, not gonna lie. Looked like he was straight out of Sao Paulo- even with the fancy suit you can't hide muscle like that. "Please, sit. It's so good to meet you." His voice was so weird. Speaking every word with like, perfect diction. You know those AI voices that talk that way? That's what it was like, as if he were trying so hard to hide an accent underneath.

"Just call me Santi, doc." I plopped down on the leather chair, might have put my feet up on his coffee table (don't recall), and he just looked at me like he was looking in a microscope. No idea what the deal was. He walked over to the couch and sat down with my file and started to drone on.

"Alright, Santi, it says here that your parents are pretty concerned about your behavior lately. You're 23 years old and a college dropout, you take illicit drugs, you have no job, and you're having unnatural thoughts. That's quite the list, bud." He was so fuckin smug, that sort of punchable glibness that only comes from a particular kind of self righteousness. Like Jesus himself came down and kissed them.

"So, first off. I did drop out of college, because I couldn't afford it. Second, I sure the fuck do smoke green because it's a) fun, and b) prescribed to me by my real doctor. Third, I do have a job. I do graphic design and graffiti art and I pay my own bills with it. And last off, yup: I fucked him." He sat there, somehow shocked that I told him how it was right off the bat. I'm not playing his little game, and that made him angry.

"I see. So you have no remorse for any of this? I believe your parents are very right to be concerned about where your life is headed."

"Fascinating, considering I'm moving out at the end of the month and they won't need to deal with my life. So. You married?" He was thrown off by that, just as I'd hoped. Right out of the blue. Knocks them off kilter for a second. An easy question to answer, so they usually do.

"Uh, well, no I'm not married. Is that your concern in all this?" Man, I couldn't help but laugh. He's trying to be sarcastic?

"Where did ya go to school for... whatever this is." This made him close my file, he even put it on the table and crossed his arms.

"I went to Liberty University, top of my class in their Doctor of Psychology program. You, it seems didn't make it that far, so you might not know what 'this' is." Oooh, he's big mad. I thought, let's push it. I did what most of my guys love, but would piss him off, I kicked off the Vans. Made sure I wore my skating shoes that day, the super ripe ones with the same damp socks. When they came off, those puppies let their presence be known.

"Sounds boring. Boring then, boring now. I got accepted into the Art Institute in Savannah, so I'll be headed that way soon. Be legit soon, then you wouldn't have anything to say. How's your sex life?" He thought he was so tough, not flinching at the musk, nor my question. But I knew both hit him right where I wanted. The question to make him mad, the stink to get him hot.

"Santiago, I think we should continue with our session. You can put your shoes back on and we can try some exercises to help you think a bit more clearly." I crossed my ankles, wriggling my toes a bit.

"I think they need some air. Are you gonna try and hypnotize me now? Or is that the last ditch effort when everything else fails?" He leaned back in his seat, the grimace growing stronger. "That stuff is not that hard to master. A couple days really and you got it down."

"Is that so?" He ground his teeth as he spat out his words. "It seems you know all there is to know, then." Time to hit it home.

"You know what, let's put money on it, doc. Hundred bucks says I can put you under." I got him, his eyebrow shifted just enough for me to see.

"This isn't a casino, Santiago. I don't bet money on client's health." I couldn't help but smirk. He left an opening I couldn't pass up.

"Aight, no money then. If I put you under, I get the bragging rights. If I don't, I'll play your stupid games. Win-win for you, nothing to lose but your dignity." Hook, line and sinker; he leaned in, grabbing the remote on the table next to him. He tapped a button, and the shades started to come down.

"Well then, Mr. Rivera. I wish you luck."

The room got dark. Really fuckin' dark. Fabrega hit another button on the remote, and a cool blue washed over the room. Gotta say, tight LED system. I kicked my shoes off the table, and scooted my chair forward. Showtime.

"Alright, Santana, I want you to just take deep breaths." He squirmed at my use of his first name, one last dig before I brain fucked him. He took his deep breaths one at a time, slowly getting deeper and deeper. "As I count down from one to ten, each number will bring you closer and closer to relaxation. Picture a long tunnel, at the end, a bright white light. With every number, you take a step forward to the light, do you understand?"

He nodded, it was an induction I'd made up this morning. I started from 10, telling him his first step he could feel the tingling relaxation in the tips of his fingers, slowly crawling up his hands and forearms. 9. Another step, the tingling creeps up his big muscly arms and shoulders. 8. One more step, the tingling is pushing up his neck and throat, reaching his tongue and teeth. 7. The tingling bursts into his head, a paradoxical rush of relaxation, a fog of dissonance washes over his brain as thoughts collide and crash about. 6. The tingling washes down his spine, flowing through his nerves into every part of his body. His body feels electric, a painless jolt running throughout him. I watched as he tensed up, his big muscles contracting and bunching him up. It was working.

We get to 5, starting at the crown of his head, the volts decrease, turning lugubrious and liquified like molasses sloshing about in his head. 4. The light is so close he can feel the heat, but his body is cooled as the syrupy fluid flows down over him like a waterfall, pooling in his big feet as it fills every crevice. 3. It feels as if he's trudging through mud toward the light, his legs feeling wobbly and gelatinous. 2. So close, his whole body feels like a massless blob, inching toward the final drop into the cavernous light. 1. He crawls toward the ledge, plummeting down into the endless void of bright white light. There, he will sit as I have a little bit of fun.

"Alright, Santana. Can you hear me in there?" Fabrega nods, expressionless. Fuck, that was maybe a 80/20 chance I was gonna fuck this shit up so bad. But I guess God really is on my side here. "Whenever I ask a question, you will answer truthfully. Whatever I say you will incorporate into your life. Now, Santana, what do you do when you're not at work?" His lips moved slowly and replied in monotone.

"I go to the gym, I go to the golf course, I hire my date, and I go home." Ooooh shit. He's giving my friends on the corners a decent living, good for him. Hardly a Godly thing to do. Either way, it was a perfect place to start.

"You love going to the gym, don't you, Santana?" He nodded. "You love gettin' all sweaty don't you?" His head began to shake, his expression furrowing a bit in disgust. "No, Santana. You love getting all sweaty. The feeling of those cool droplets on your hot muscles during a hard workout? Doesn't it feel good?" He pauses, before reluctantly nodding. Ahh I love gettin my fingers in his brain, never ceases to please. "You love that funk that comes off your sweat, Santana. You love sniffin your pits, your big feet, your balls... That musk means you're workin' hard. Keeping in shape. Staying virile. Isn't that right?" He nodded, squirming in the chair. I watched his body try to reject the instructions, try to rebel, but just one repetition had his back to stillness.

"You don't even like golf, do you?" He nodded, I didn't even need to manipulate him. "You much prefer hitting the beach, don't you? Seein' all the guys and gals starin' at your glorious bod... You love it, don't you?" He nodded, the side of his lip curling ever so slightly. "You love bringing out the speedo, letting the goods hang low, letting the buns bulge... you know they all wanna see it anyway..." He nodded again, it was like taking candy from a baby. The guy had the mental fortitude of a frog.

"You like fucking, too. You can have any girl or guy on the street with a single wink." He nodded, and I couldn't help but watch as his groin started to bulge. "Yeah, boy. You love taking that horse cock and plowing it into some ass... plowing it into some pussy... fucking their pretty little mouths..." Drool started to drip from the corner of his lip, and a little wet spot quickly appeared on his pants. "You're a freak, aren't you, Santana? You like fuckin' in the car, in the sauna, at the gym, under the desk... gushing gallons into them while you shove your sneaker on their face." He was moaning, slowly grinding against the open air. Can't lie, I was gropin' myself a bit just watching him.

"Now, Santana. I'm going to bring you back to your office, but when I do, you are going to be super laid back and chill with Santi during your sessions. If he says the word 'sniff' you will return to this space, return to an open mind, just as we have done here today. Do you understand?" He nodded one final time before I began his emergence. Counting back from one to ten, I watched as he slowly came back to the real world, and with one snap, he blinked his eyes and wiped his brow.

"Well, doc. I got the bragging rights." Fabrega pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he had a headache. Time to see if it had all paid off.

"Uhh... yeah... Santi. You got me there..." Perfect. He pulled his hand away from his nose, clicking the shades back up to their little hole. It didn't take long until he saw the wet patch on his bulbous package. He chuckled under his breath. "You'll have to excuse the mess, Santi... I have hyperspermia, so sometimes it all just flows out." Hot- and totally unprofessional. Just how I like 'em. I leaned back in my chair, smirkin' the whole way.

"Damn, doc. Firehose down there. Gonna have to show me sometime." He smirked and waved me off.

"I don't fraternize with clients, Santi. Oh, look at the time. I'm late for my 5:30. Alright, I'll see you next week." He stood up, extending his hand, his whole demeanor entirely changed. I slipped my Vans back on, spitting on my hand before gripping his. He shuddered a bit, sure. But we were gonna get real close, real quick.

---

The next few days flew by. My folks were so excited to see that I was looking forward to seeing Dr. Fabrega, and I loved knowing what they didn't. I was excited to see if Dr. Fabrega was gonna be Santana. So when I finally got back in for my appointment, I didn't need to wait long at all. Only five minutes and the door swung open, the receptionist completely flustered. The anticipation was killing me. She sat down behind her computer with tunnel vision and I walked into the office.

At first, I thought it was empty. He wasn't sitting at his desk, on the couch... but as I heard huffing from the balcony, I knew where to find him. I walked up to the sliding glass door, and turned outside to see one hell of a sight.

It was Santana. Nothing on but his whitie-tighties and his damp socks doing pushups on the bench. Fuck, those muscles were glistening in the light, his underwear with damp patches on his ass and bulge. His clothes sat in a pile near his head: jeans, a Miami Heat jersey, some sick dunks I wanted to steal... far from the stuffy suit he had on just the week before. He finally noticed me, and smiled.

"Santi! Hey! Just finishing up my lunch workout. Thought I'd get a session in today on the balcony. Damn, the fresh air is good for exercise!" I smirked. It was night and day. So far, gone was the bible thumping hypocrite, and here was what was underneath. If anything I was doing him a service.

"Shit, Santana! You're looking prime today. You gonna funk out our session today, or?" I punched him in the shoulder, and he giggled like a kid.

"It's eau naturale, my friend. Natural water. That's what it smells like." He slipped on his jeans and his big fuckin' sneakers, tossing the jersey over his head while we walked in. He trailed some deliciously ripe musk, and I couldn't help but savor a bit of it. We plopped down on our seats, and just started shootin' shit. I bitched about the parents, he bitched about his receptionist, I told him about Sammy suckin' my dick clean, and he told me about the threesome with a gym bro and his girlfriend. He was coming along beautifully. Though, I thought to myself, how's about a round two?

"Dude, by the way, those kicks are fuckin' tight." I pointed to the dunks, which he smugly kicked up onto the coffee table, showing them off.

"Thanks, man. They're the lifting shoes. My work boots, heh." I reached out, grabbing ahold of his foot, and yanked it off. He chuckled like a fuckin' idiot while I looked at 'em. Size 13, nice and big- and the smell wafting out of there... Fuck, man.

"Damn, dude you never wash your socks? These stink!" I playfully tossed the shoe at him, and just as he started to brush off the comment, I said my magic word. "Sniff it." Like a flipped lightswitch, his expression turned numb, slowly bringing the shoe to his nose and inhaling his own musk. I clapped my hands, rubbing them together: let's do a little more programming.

"Santana, You're a pretty chill guy, you know that?" He nodded. "You smoke, don't you? You know, the good shit?" Deep in his mind, he had to know it was me talking at this point, so I was talking to him like a bro. Establishes trust, ya know? He shook his head no. "Ahh, come on man. You love kickin' back and toking on that reefer after a long workout." Santana chuckled a bit, before nodding, still nose deep in his sneaker. "Yeah, you love smokin' out your bros, your babes... when you're not shootin' tequila!" He full out laughed on that one, nodding along. The sneaker slowly dropped from his hand, and he laid back in his chair.

"How old are you, Santana?"

"28." Shit, he was only a few years older than me. I mean, he looked young. But hell, you wouldn't have known it from the way he acted.

"Where are you from?" "Rio de Janeiro." Interesting. I clocked the accent. I was pretty proud of myself.

"Why do you try so hard to hide it? The way you talk, the way you dress, the way you act... You act like you're from Ohio." Another chuckle, I should have had a Netflix special. "You're gonna embrace that Brazilian pride, bro. Don't hide it for some mayo drinking buzzkills!" He furrowed his brow, nodding intently. This one was for his own fuckin' good. Be proud of that shit! "You should get some ink to really embrace it. Nothin' sexier than a tatted up stud, am I right?" He nodded again, his bulge once more springing to life. I smirked, simply wanting to know a little something somethin'.

"Do you think Santi is hot?" He sat there for a second, before slowly smiling and nodding. I didn't even need to program that one. Aww, big old himbo. "You're not afraid to let him know, are ya? I mean if you tell his crazy fuckin' parents that he's cured... He wouldn't be your patient anymore... Right?" His bulge twitched again, and he smirked devilishly as he nodded. "You like it when he's all up in your brain, don't you? You like it when he gets his dick deep in there and mind fucks you into a chill, laid back stud. Don't ya?" The dampness grew and his breath got heavy. He nodded, drooling down the sides of his cheeks. "Yeah, you wanna let him in completely, don't ya? Make you like him?" Moans grew, and his thrusting in the air quickened pace. "You wanna be best bros with him, don't ya? Bros with benefits... hangin' out, smokin' weed, hittin' the clubs, swappin' spit... swappin' cum... swappin' subs..." He started fuckin' howl. He was beggin' to splurge. "When I tell you, you will cum. And when you do, everything we talked about will be your truth. Now... Cum."

His eyes opened, still moaning loudly. He gripped onto his jeans, pulling down the waistband and underwear, that big old uncut donkey dick flopping out before shooting his load all over himself. Volley after volley. He wasn't kidding about the hyperspermia: maybe four double shots of his spunk sprayed like a geyser into the air. The 8th Natural Wonder of the World. He laid back and chuckled, throwing his arms behind his head.

"Fuck, brother!" The thickest accent flowed of those lips, deliciously thick. "After today, that'll be down your throat, cara." He pointed at me, hopping to his feet and shoving his python back into his pants. "So, I'll write your discharge papers, it'll get the pais off your back. Act the part until you're out, and just go live." Fuck yeah, we high fived, and I ruffled that sweaty mullet of his. "Hey, come over tonight. I got some friends comin' over... if you and Sammy wanna join." He winked and slapped my back. Damn, I did good.

"I'll be there, man! You save me a round so I can show you how to clean this dick." I groped my bulge, smirking as his bit his lip and winked. I've created a monster.

---

"Ei, sexy! Come get a toke before it's gone!" Such a demanding little bitch, I love him. I slipped his filled condom off my cock, the kinky fucker insisted, and I happily complied. If I'm being real, this psycho has taught me things! I flushed it down the toilet, and swung the bathroom door open to see him lounging on his bed, toking away at the blunt I packed.

"Hey you fuckin' hog, don't you smoke it all!" He chuckled dumbly, reaching over to hand me the blunt, taking the opportunity to snatch my wrist and pull me forward into a kiss. Fuck those lips were so good, pressed against mine or around my cock. "Isn't Carrie coming over soon? You gonna be able to get off so quick?" I pushed away, taking my puff.

"Ahh, plenty to go around, eh?" He groped that musky bulge that I had a feeling Sammy would be huffing later. "Ey, bring me my pants. We can go get a shot before she gets here." Heh, the last month or so crashing with him has been fuckin' sick. The folks think I'm rooming with some guy from the church, when really I'm gooning with my therapist every night in his bed. Savannah is letting me take online courses, I'll have my B.A. in a couple of years, and I'm already getting some gallery hits. Santana is gonna be my armcandy for the opening, and I told him to forget his deodorant. Fuck he’s perfect. But a thought had crept in my head the other day. One last program, one final idea planted in his head... Though, at this point, there was no need to put him under. I'd just ask him.

"Hey, so I gotta go to Georgia to finish up some paperwork at the school. It got me thinking... I'm followin' my dream. What about you?" I tossed him his pants and passed the blunt, taking a deep whiff of those ripe dunks before throwing them his way too.

"I could go back to the practice, though I think the bible thumpers would lose their minds, heh."

"Well... What we did for eachother... What if you did it for others?" I slowly got down to my knees, a smirk crawling across my face. "What if you could help those poor... misguided young men change their lives?" I crawled toward him, spreading his legs wide as I tossed his legs over my shoulders. "Wouldn't that be so... so... fun?" I slowly pulled down his musky briefs, releasing his monstrous cock again, the musky hooded beast slapping me on my cheek. "Then, we could have so... many... new.. friends..." I pulled down his slimy hood and wrapped my lips around his tip. I should have known better. His hand grabbed the back of my head, slamming it down onto his spear, my nose buried in his bush as he thrust back and forth into my mouth.

"Unff... Yeah, brother... Oh yeah... That sounds like a good... unhhhhh... good idea." Grunting, slapping, moaning, slurping... it all rang out in his room, until he gushed another thick load down my throat. "You wanna join me?" And in that moment, I smiled. It was the best idea he'd had yet.

#original #hypnosis #mind control #himbo #bisexual #transformation #male hypnosis #male transformation #stoner #cannabis #musk #footplay #switch #male reprogramming

238 notes · View notes

cillianmesoftlyyy · 1 month

Text

How About It, Agent Miller? | Lenny Miller x fem!reader

Summary: The year is 1988. The Cold War is well underway and tensions are slowly rising between the US and the Soviets. CIA Agent Miller isn’t threatened by the new young agent from the Soviet Union but she has a plan to get his attention, and to get even.

Warnings: Misogyny, violence, gun, kidnapping, restraints, dubious consent, noncon, smut, unprotected sex, edging, drugging.

word count: 4661k

Sympathy for the Devil- The Rolling Stones 🎶

Devils Haircut- Beck 🎵

You Know I’m No Good- Amy Winehouse 🎶

Movie: Anna (2019)

Please read warnings before continuing, thanks!

He thought this job was going to be simple, almost easy. She was working for East Germany, young, and new to her position; surely she wouldn’t be that difficult to eliminate. He’d been working for the CIA for nearly fifteen years at that point. He was one of the top agents and had orchestrated the downfall of many notable German and Soviet spies. To be fair, there had been that minor detail of receiving several severed heads from the KGB back in 1985 but that was all behind him now. They didn’t scare him now, and certainly, that twenty-something agent he’d heard so much about wasn’t about to make him lose sleep. In fact, he was looking forward to meeting her.

The girl in question was twenty-two and one of the deadliest spies to ever work for East Germany (the communist side). Y/N Y/L/N managed to slip past the CIA on multiple occasions, stealing out the backdoor or using false passports to get out of the country undetected. She’d made one mistake, however, and Agent Miller was quick to catch it. He rued the way she’d avoided detection for so long when it felt like it was all due simply to good luck. She didn’t seem especially smart or conniving, just pretty. It pissed him off. The mistake that Y/N had made was small, easy to look over, but Agent Miller was looking, and he found it.

Y/N tricked men around her to get information on the US. Once she’d get them alone, she drugged them, shot them, etc; anything to get them out of her way while she downloaded classified files from their computers. She had managed to steal these files before without leaving traces of her crime but low and behold, the last time she had removed the flash drive without ejecting it from the computer’s system. The computer held onto the flash drive's information and told Agent Miller exactly what the young woman was planning next. She’d been collecting information on nuclear weapons and international trade deals that the US was trying to keep hush hush. And for that reason, Agent Miller knew who she was going after next.

He straightened his striped blue tie and cleared his throat as he and his team crowded into the elevator. The men behind him carried larger guns and thick bulletproof vests, ready for whatever the girl threw at them. They’d followed her into a hotel in New York City, a place that felt too normal for the situation at hand. When the elevator doors opened with a soft whooshing noise, Agent Miller nodded his agents on, directing them to either side of the corridor. Quickly, they raided the hotel room belonging to the man they believed she had gone after that evening, but did not find her there. She was nowhere in the hotel. Agent Miller cursed beneath his breath and gritted his teeth. He knew his impatience was his worst quality and it only hurt him in these situations, but then again, the American government isn’t known for being very patient with communists…

Clenching and relaxing his jaw, Agent Miller went back down in the elevator with his men. They separated into groups in the lobby, each climbing back into the armored car sent by the CIA. Agent Miller waited behind, his cold eyes trained on the curb in front of the hotel. His car was separate from the others and would take him directly back to his office. A sharp wind ruffled his dark brown hair, displacing one strand into his face as his car pulled up to the curb. Agent Miller climbed into the dark backseat, the car door slamming closed beside him and a lock clicking into place. He looked up. The barrel of a pistol was pointed at his forehead. He froze.

“Hello, Agent Miller. Wie geht es Ihnen? I’m so glad we finally got a moment alone. I apologize for the circumstances but you know how the politics are these days… it’s so… toxic. Ja? Now, be a good boy and hand me the glock you have at your hip,” a young woman smiled on the seat beside him. She was wearing all black and blended in against the dark leather seats and tinted windows. Agent Miller frowned, his hands unmoving.

“That doesn’t seem fair, does it? You’re putting me at a disadvantage here.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself like that, Agent Miller. You and I both know what you’re capable of,” she chuckled mockingly but her sunglasses hid her true meaning. “Give me your gun, now.” Her voice was hard and cool like a porcelain plate, one of the perfect edges with a chip. Agent Miller raised his hand slowly and moved his jacket to the side, showing his holster. As soon as she had his gun in her hand she tapped the glass partition between them and the driver, signaling him to drive.

“Where are we going?” Agent Miller sighed calmly, leaning back against the seat. Y/N smiled, pleased at his temperament. It made things easier.

“One of my favorite places in New York City,” she answered with a smirk, a gun still trained at the man beside her though it had been lowered.

“And what kind of place could that be, god forbid?” Agent Miller asked rhetorically and looked over at the window beside him.

“The Plaza Hotel,” she answered slowly and shifted in her seat. Her pleated leather skirt shifted across her black stockings, showing more of her thigh, fleshy and round. Agent Miller noticed it and smirked, the comedy of the situation being too much for him to take seriously. The car stopped at the back of the hotel by the service entrance. Men exited out of the building and held a door open, waiting as Y/N escorted the CIA agent inside. Agent Miller followed her calmly as he searched for someone who could help him.

“No one’s here. It’s off-season,” she sighed lightly and pushed him into an elevator.

“It’s never off-season in New York,” Agent Miller raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Surprise, surprise.”

They took the elevator up to the top floor. Agent Miller’s hands began to sweat as he was led out of the elevator and around the corridor to a suite, separated from the others.

“You must get a good salary,” Agent Miller cracked as the woman jerked the gun towards the door of the suite. He kept his hands visible as he entered the room and looked around. The room was large and was actually made up of multiple rooms. In the center of the living room area, a chair had been left out.

“Sit down and make yourself comfortable. Bitte.” She had a way of talking that sounded like a purr but it was clear to Agent Miller that her words were more threatening than they sounded. Still, it was hard to take her seriously. It was hard to believe that this woman was the deadliest spy in East Germany.

“Danke schön,” Agent Miller muttered, his American accent muddling the German.

"Kannst du Deutsch sprechen, Herr Miller?” Y/N pretended to sound surprised as she closed and bolted the lock. “I’m flattered, really,” she smiled and removed her long black coat. Slowly she placed the coat on a couch’s arm and pulled off the blonde wig on her head, revealing her dark hair beneath which fell into a messy bob around her shoulders, over her dark mauve blouse. Last she removed her sunglasses and folded them neatly on her coat. Then she met his eyes.

“Nein? Well, then it's good I’m so fluent in English. You would never tell by my accent. At least, you didn’t the last time we met.”

“We’ve met before?” Agent Miller asked and shifted in his chair.

“Oh yes.” She smiled and dimples deepened on her cheeks.

An image came back to him, one of a young woman dropping a stack of manuscripts in the lobby of a hotel where they had been investigating the last crime scene. She’d been wearing a long brown wig and tortoiseshell glasses. She even had brown contacts in her eyes to hide her true eye color. He’d stopped to help her collect the manuscripts.

Oh gosh, thank you so much. So sorry about that. My boss is going to kill me. Thank you! She’d blushed as he handed her the papers. He’d met her before. She’d shown herself to him just to play with him. He scowled.

“Now I feel even more at a disadvantage.”

“How? After all, you’re the big-shot CIA agent, due for a promotion any day now… and I’m just a little girl. I don’t need any real smarts, not when I can just use my good looks to get what I want. Right, Agent Miller?” Her voice darkened as she finished, flashing with resentment. “You could fight me right now. It’s just the two of us. I’m surprised you didn’t. You’ve had ample opportunities to but you blindly follow my orders. It’s not that you’re scared to hurt me, you aren’t that sexist.”

“I don’t see the point of fighting when you’ve put so much work into getting me alone. I assume you have something to say.” Agent Miller swallowed, his cool facade slipping slightly as the woman approached him slowly.

“Aw how chivalrous of you! Oh, but what if I told you that I was only interested in getting you alone so that I could finally get even with you.” Y/N twirled the gun around her pointer finger and shifted it to his chest. He stiffened.

“Get even?”

“Settle the score,” she offered with a shrug.

“I don’t think I follow,” Agent Miller frowned warily.

“Then let me explain,” Y/N purred and with quick movements, she removed a pair of handcuffs from the back of her skirt and closed them tightly around both of his wrists, tying his hands around the back of the heavy chair. His eyes widened slightly when he realized what she had done.

“The fuck…” he started but she cut him off quickly.

“You didn’t think I could outsmart you or get the upper hand… you thought you could so easily catch me. And what a good job you’ve done!” She crossed her arms across her chest and set the gun down, smiling. Agent Miller averted his gaze, staring at the upper corner of the room. He clenched his jaw and struggled against the handcuffs for a brief moment.

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, Agent Miller?”

“Figured what out?” He snapped impatiently.

“I've been planning this for months. Do you really think I accidentally removed my flashdrive wrong, coincidentally leaving you all of the information that i’ve gathered since starting my mission? You’ve really underestimated me,” she clucked her tongue and kicked off her high heels, standing barefoot in her pantyhose on the dark pink shag carpet.

“I knew you’d find the mistake, I wanted you to. You did everything you were supposed to do, good boy,” she carded her fingers through his dark hair. The soft warm lighting in the room brought out the freckles across his pale face. Just as he started to turn his eyes to hers, she yanked his hair back so that he was looking up at her. “But how did this special agent who graduated from MIT of all places, end up in this position?”

“Did you do all of this just to show me how smart you are?” Agent Miller growled as she continued to pull at his roots.

“Something like that,” she smiled again, “I get off when men think they’re smarter than I am. I like proving them wrong… and then killing them.”

“Is that your plan for tonight?” He tried to keep a level voice as the smell of her perfume wafted down to his nose. She shook her head slightly and chuckled.

“You’ve been trained to resist torture, so there won’t be much that I can get out of you that way. And anyway, there isn’t much that I don’t already know.” She released her grip on his hair and stepped back. Y/N moved to the bar cart, stocked with crystal jars of whiskey and bourbon.

“So what are you going to do to me?” Agent Miller raised an eyebrow as he watched her pour a small glass of whiskey. She turned slowly and approached him again, swirling the whiskey in her glass. She raised the glass to his lips and poured it gently into his mouth. He parted his lips for her, his eyes trained on her face.

“Whatever I want,” she whispered and pulled the glass from his lips. Agent Miller raised his eyebrow, swallowing.

“Won’t your government disapprove?” He scoffed and shifted in the seat, calming himself down. His body was starting to get hot and his collar got tighter.

“Shhh,” she shushed him, a finger pressed against her own lips. Y/N approached him again and trailed one manicured finger from his arm to his hand. He shivered beneath her touch and his heart began to race. He felt his pulse in his stomach as she carded her fingers through his hair again, softer this time. She placed one knee on the chair between his thighs, pressing against his crotch. She tipped his head back with the edge of her nail beneath his jaw and leaned in close, exhaling beside his jaw. Seeing an opportunity, Agent Miller tried to kick her, jutting his knee up because it wasn’t restrained. She stopped him quickly, forcing him back into the chair, not missing a beat. His breath caught in his throat and he nearly choked on it. Her hand wrapped around his throat and squeezed but not harshly. His skin was warm beneath her hand and she smiled, her white teeth flashing.

She pressed her knee sharply into his thigh, holding his leg down, and slid it closer to the top of his crotch. She chuckled softly when she felt the outline of his cock inside his pants with the side of her thigh. Agent Miller’s body tensed below her, his hands folding into fists as he exhaled sharply.

“Aw does this hurt?” She cooed as she dug her knee further into the flesh of his thigh. His jaw tightened as she teased him. Moving closer, she rested both knees between his thighs, forcing them against the arms and pinning them in place. Suddenly she was so close and her thighs were pressing against his stomach…

How was it that he was getting an erection from this shit-show? How could she get this reaction out of him so fucking quickly? He tried to even out his breath as she shifted in the seat, her hands trailing up his chest to the knot of his tie.

“What did you drug me with?” Agent Miller muttered. Strands of her hair brushed against his cheeks.

“You don’t have to resist it, Agent Miller.” She ran her hands down his sides beneath his dark blue suit jacket. His body was full and firm, and warm. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she whispered against his forehead.

“What did you put in my drink…” he repeated, his voice wavering in strength as her hand moved down his stomach to the front of his pants. His erection was pronounced and visible, pushing against the fly of his trousers. She must have given him something, something to get this response. He wasn’t even that turned on. He sighed, frustrated and mad. He turned his head to the side, avoiding her soft lips.

“You think I have to drug you to get this kind of response? Silly boy,” she slid off of his lap and sat on the edge of the couch in front of him. She crossed her legs at first and allowed her eyes to trail up his body like a man would to a woman. Agent Miller stared back, his blue eyes hard. She giggled and reached up her skirt, hooking her hands under her pantyhose and pulled it down her thighs. She rolled the pantyhose slowly down her calves and slipped it off her feet. Despite his best efforts, Agent Miller watched her closely, studying the way she pushed the pantyhose to the side with her foot.

“I prefer genuine responses, it helps with my ego,” she broke the silence and watched with a sly smile as Agent Miller swallowed. With a sigh she stood and leaned over the CIA agent, her hands gripped around the arm rests. “Are you embarrassed? The high and mighty CIA agent succumbing so quickly to someone like me?” She teased him sharply, a glint of malice behind her bright eyes. “Tell me, Agent Miller. You’re thinking about me… you want me to touch you more. You want to see what I could do to you.”

Agent Miller cocked his head slightly and sighed, pretending to be disinterested. Y/N grabbed his face, her fingers digging into either side of his jaw. When she kissed him, he exhaled, almost relieved. He kissed her back, forgetting himself and liking the way she tasted, the way her lips felt in his mouth. She pulled his face closer to hers, still hovering above him. She kissed him feverishly and he followed blindly, distracted by the pleasure found in each movement her lips made against his. Then as quickly as it had started, she pulled away and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Some of her lipstick was smudged across his mouth but he couldn’t tell. He was breathing heavily, his lips pulled apart so that he could catch his breath. She took a few steps back and grabbed a file from a nearby table. She flipped it open and turned the pages until she landed on the right one. She held the folder open in one hand and with the other she began to unbutton her blouse from the top down.

Agent Miller felt his cock throb as he watched her shrug off the silky blouse and drape it over the arm of the couch. When she turned he could see her black t-shirt bra fitted perfectly against her breasts. Her collarbones rose and fell as she breathed and Agent Miller nearly groaned. She read aloud from the file as she moved back to the chair.

“My records tell me that the last number of confirmed nuclear weapons in the American arsenal was 27,000. It’s been half a decade since that information was released to the Soviet Union. What is that number now?” She straddled his lap slowly, smoothing out her skirt over their legs. Agent Miller moved his eyes from her breasts to her face, trying to keep his face straight as he felt the woman’s hand unbuckle his belt.

“I can’t tell you that,” he managed as she played with the zipper of his fly, her fingers dancing over the hard bulge.

“Has the number grown?” She offered and slid her hand below his waistband. Her hand grazed the patch of his pubic hair before she reached his cock. He shivered and looked up at the ceiling of the hotel room. “More?” She asked softly as she wrapped her fingers around his erection, it was hot and wet in her hand. He was so sensitive already that he groaned softly when she touched him. She squeezed him softly and freed the hard length from his pants. She rubbed her hand up and down. Agent Miller panted softly as she masturbated him. His eyes snapped open and he watched her, their eyes locked.

“Has the number changed?” She asked again softly as the agent clenched his jaw.

“I can’t tell you that,” He fought the words out as her hand sped up.

“Are there less? Has the US been involved in a trade agreement for its nuclear weapons?” She pushed, her hand moving faster.

“Fuck…” Agent Miller panted as her grip tightened around him. His cheeks deepened with color and his chest shook as his climax built. Just as he felt like he was about to cum, Y/N pulled her hand away and clucked her tongue.

“You’re going to make this very hard on yourself,” she observed and smiled as she watched him pant. He was completely erect beneath her skirt, resting against her bare thigh. They stared at each other as he caught his breath. She snapped the folder closed and tossed it to the side, sighing impatiently.

“Who has the US traded with in the past year?” She asked, her hands holding his thighs down.

“That is public information. You don’t need me to tell you that.”

“I want you to tell me about the trade deals you haven’t made public,” she loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons. “Which countries have illegal trade agreements with the US?” She added before kissing his neck, sucking on the soft flesh until she started to make hickeys. With her freehand she held his cock still as she lowered herself onto his head. She moved her hips slowly up and down and pulled away to look at his face. His adam's apple quivered in his throat as she moved on top of him.

“I-I can’t-fuck,” he gasped softly as she started to shift her hips over his lap, taking him deeper, “I can’t tell you that.”

“Come on, Agent Miller,” she whispered against his ear, “be a good boy for me,” she smirked. “Does it feel good? Is this harder than torture?” She teased him as her hips sped up, rocking back and forth. Agent Miller moaned softly as she held his face to face her. His mouth was agape in pleasure as she began to bounce slightly, falling hard on his cock. He grunted as she went faster, moaning theatrically against his lips which she refused to kiss.

“Do you want to cum, Agent Miller?” She whispered against his lips, her tongue touching his bottom lip with a flourish.

“Fuck…” he panted again.

“Can you cum for me?” She purred and Agent Miller nodded weakly, his eyes now closed. She smiled and pretended to pant, coaxing another deep moan from the man’s throat. “Has the US been sending nuclear weapons to West Germany?” She asked, raising herself up and holding him inside her. He weakly tried to thrust but she held him down.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his brows furrowed in frustration.

She snapped her hips down, taking him in again and hugging his cock. He gasped as his stomach tightened. He was going to cum.

“Has the US been sending nuclear weapons to West Germany?” She repeated sternly, not moving on his cock as the wave of climax started to dissipate again.

“I can’t fucking tell you that-fuck,” he growled when she moved her hips very slowly.

“But you can tell me, Agent Miller, and if you do, I’ll let you cum,” she stroked his cheek and kissed his jaw feverishly. “I want you to cum. Fuck, I want you to cum inside me too.” She whispered against his neck. When he resisted saying anything she pulled herself off and backed away towards the bed in the room beside them. Agent Miller watched her, his chest rising and falling quickly. Still watching him, she slid her leather skirt off, showing that she had no underwear on underneath. He felt like he might explode just by the sight of her.

“Jesus…” he groaned and let his head fall back against the back of the chair. He couldn’t help himself but look back as she undid her bra and dropped it to the floor. Standing completely naked, she laid back on the bed and propped herself up on her elbows.

“If you won’t cum, I’ll just have to finish myself off,” she sighed and trailed her fingers up her thigh to her cunt, wet from sex. “It just never feels as good.” She rubbed her fingers over her clit over and over again until she felt an orgasm grow. She curled her toes and bit her lip, grinding against her own hand. Agent Miller knew that he could look away but the scene was just too much to ignore. He watched as she arched her back and twisted her hips, reacting to the sensitivity of her clit. Her eyes danced below her eyelids as she thought up fantasies to fuel her climax. Rubbing harder, she started to moan softly and quivered. Agent Miller pulled at the handcuffs, struggling to remain calm as he watched her touch herself. As her orgasm finally arrived, she collapsed back onto the mattress and caught her breath.

“Enough,” Agent Miller sneered from the chair, still erect and horny. “At least get me out of these so I can fuck you the right way.”

Y/N smiled and hopped off of the bed, her tits bouncing slightly as she did.

“You want to fuck me, Agent Miller?” She leaned close to his face again. He stared back at her, his jaw set.

“Let’s get it over with,” he answered nonchalantly and she tilted his jaw up but didn’t kiss him. She undid the handcuffs around his wrists and he sprang to his feet, grabbing at her body. He kissed her feverishly, lapping at her mouth with his tongue hungrily. She pushed off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his shirt as he slipped off his shoes and pants. They didn’t have time to remove his shirt before he entered her. He took hold of her hips to pull her closer and wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her close to his chest. She clawed her hands down his dress shirt, her knees high on either side of his waist. She moaned loudly and he studied the way she opened her mouth to do it, mesmerized by the way she reacted to him inside of her.

“Good boy,” she praised him when he sped up, hitting her G-spot. She reached her hand down between their bodies and rubbed at her clit, coaxing a stronger orgasm.

“Don’t touch yourself,” Agent Miller ordered, short of breath, “let me do it.” He massaged her clit himself, his large hands covering the front of her cunt. Her mouth fell open into a loud gasp as he synchronized his thrusts to the way he rubbed her clit.

“Fuck,” he exhaled tightly as he felt her flex around him.

“Keep going,” she wrapped her fingers around his neck and pulled him closer to her face, their mouths exchanging exhales, “fuck me right.”

He kissed her deeply as he moaned, the muscles in his back tightening beneath her nails. She was so tight and wet, he nearly came just thinking about it as he moved. She carded her fingers through his hair and pulled as he chased their peaking climax. He was grunting now as she began to finish around him, shaking without much control. He moved his hands back to her hips and rocked himself deep inside of her as he brought on his orgasm. He came inside of her with loud grunts, thrusting until he’d finished completely. Only when he was done did he pull out and collapse beside her on the elegant duvet. He panted loudly, exhausted. They remained in silence until Y/N rolled over, putting her lips close to his ear.

“You know, I didn’t have to ask you all those questions. I already know the answers.” Her voice was serious and cold, Agent Miller eyed her.

“Then why did you ask?”

“I wanted to see you tied down,” she answered calmly. He raised his eyebrow and scoffed just before the sting of a cold, sterilized needle pinched his neck. Then he quickly went to sleep.

When he awoke, he found himself alone in the hotel room. Everything had been returned to normal and the place scrubbed for fingerprints. And she was gone. She’d gotten away again.

#lenny miller #cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader #fanfiction #cillian murphy x reader #cillian fanfic #cillian x y/n #cillian x reader #smut #Anna #agent miller #long reads #1980s #fem!reader

275 notes · View notes

katsukikitten · 1 year

Text

A zombie apocalypse au for @medusashima collab! Find the collab master list HERE! Be sure to give the others a read too!

Warning: graphic, violent, and sexual content intended for adults 18 or older.

Synopsis: Shelter isn't hard to come by in the End but good, untouched, shelter is. When you find paradise in the middle of a dead field in the shape of a 900 square foot home you start to break a few of your important rules. Always keep moving and don't help anyone. Especially if that anyone is a hot headed blonde bounty hunter sent to settle score you'd rather forget.

Peachy Keen Master List

Chapter One - Never overstay your welcome, keep moving

Winter

It scares you at first, the mummified body facing the door in the cramped living room of the home you found tucked away in a field of corn long past it's harvest.

Petrified you, like the farmers that sat facing one another. In wooden rocking chairs, gnarled fingers slack around the handles. Coming closer to inspect and seeing no signs of teeth marks or infection. Letting loose the held breath you kept as deft eyes looked over every liver spot and wrinkle in the leathery skin. No fluid on the hardwood floors beneath their rocking chair or in the blankets around their shoulders.

And by some miracle, the cold, the house didn't smell like rot.

You figure they must have died earlier this winter, it lasted damn near since October as the Earth naturally cooled in the fall of the human race.

With critical climate change hitting irreversible levels and long lasting damaging effects in just a few short decades, Mother Nature took matters into her own hands. Doing what she does best.

She evolves, she changes and grows, makes a deadly cocktail of pathogens and fungi that rids her realm of blight.

Humans.

You were just surprised a nuclear war didn't wipe humanity off the map first.

You hadn't meant to live this long, six whole years in the apocalypse, honestly you were one of the many who'd rather take their own lives. Least then you had a say in how and when you went.

But the body has a funny way of forcing you to survive. To dissociate in some feeble attempt to keep the body going for an organ that tortured itself daily with endless, grueling tasks and for what?

So you could experience your first kill? Watch your friends and family die when the Feds bombed cities instead of trying to quarantine sections? Of you walking until your feet bled, fleeing the city just to live in the outskirts to hear the screaming and wails as the undead met the living? Tied to a tree limb with your worn belt to sleep or maybe it was so you could loot the dead man for his tent but not without putting a bullet between his eyes as a parting gift first.

No longer does Grim accept the coins laid upon the eyes of the dead. Now payment for a safe travel down the river Styx is paid with the bullet lodged into the third eye of the deceased.

A tradition sure to be passed down to the generations to come.

Despite the rage you've aimed at yourself for still living, the home was a welcoming sight. The old farm house made of gray cinder block, stout in the field of the tall stalks that you yearned to see each sweltering summer when you were stuck in the city before the world went to shit.

Now the sight of the dried crop makes the nostalgia coat your tongue thickly, like the bitterant of a large pill.

You think you choke when you swallow.

Still even with the two harmless corpses it was an amazing find. The shingles of the roof are all in tack and the old wood stove holds the reminiscence of a charred log and ashes.

Logs lining either side that would last through the winter and then more still kept under an open awning out back. Plenty of birch wood to burn white smoke making you sigh in relief.

First things first and with the few hours of sun you had left you needed to get to work burying the couple. Half debating over taking their rings that were about to fall off before thinking better of it.

Grabbing the shovel from the makeshift shed and going to the edge of the corn field out back. Only you were stubborn, stupid enough to fight the frozen ground as you shoved the sharp spade into the Earth. Moving it to your will as sweat collects on the inside of your thermal undershirt making it stick to your back and the nape of your neck uncomfortably.

Your calloused hands protect you from the biting wood as you spend the better part of your day light going six feet down. Using the height of the shovel as a measuring stick.

I wonder if their kids and grandkids will visit. I'll have to make a good marker so they won't miss it.

And then it hits you. The realization of what you're thinking. Fat droplets blurring your vision as you chide yourself over wasting quickly dwindling time.

You hadn't even cried when you watched your friends being torn apart from the force of the bomb but here you were crying over two strangers and their imaginary family.

Except they weren't imaginary were they? They were hung neatly throughout the home.

Ya know the multi generational home that you planned to squat in. The one with the warped photos in warm senpia of when the family first arrived and built the modest country home to the vibrant color photo of the grandparents smiling ear to ear as their kids and their kids' kids stood on the still sturdy porch with corn cobs in their small hands.

Another sob racks through your body forcing you to take a break from carving out your last foot hold so you could climb out of the grave you'd just dug.

Should you start digging your own now too?

Since no one else was going to be around to do it.

Once you're back in the house you try to think of the logistics of bringing the pair out. You start with the wife, taking her delicately preserved body with the blanket around her shoulders.

"’Xcuse me." You murmur to her as you lift her up, surprisingly light compared to the other corpses you've carried or moved. Careful to avoid banging her up against the door jamb accidentally before you make it out the few yards to the edge of their little property.

Easing her down into the hole using the long and strong quilt that she must have made until you could slip it from beneath her to bring the fabric back up.

"Sorry." Another involuntary pleasantry as you scoop the husband and his quilt up. Repeating the same action until he rested beside her as much as he could be. Dropping the first and second quilt over them as if tucking them in. You just hoped they wanted their holy matrimony to be reflected in the after life as well.

Rooting around in your pocket for the few spare ammo you've got left.

"For the toll." You murmur dropping a bullet each before tackling the grueling task of shoveling dirt back into the hole you half killed yourself to dig. Returning to the house only to place their wooden rocking chairs at the foot of their grave before heading inside for the night.

Telling yourself not to look for their names, refusing to and that the wooden rocking chairs would have been enough.

But it gnaws at you as you move around their furniture to better suit you, as the old wood stove fills the home with a warmth, with a luxury, you've long since forgotten.

Knowing full well she would have been the type of woman to have a farmer's log.

A handwritten one or a more accurate family log written in the old bible that sat on her night stand.

You left it alone, thankful they hadn't died in their queen sized bed as you moved it into the living room frame and all.

The moon shining bright over head, peering in through the kitchen window over the sink as if to check on you. To see if you were still awake.

And of course you were, when was the last time you've ever had a restful sleep?

Your mind back to the "holy book" specifically the one with the worn leather and cracked spine. Even to the end the wife was a woman of faith, a bible open on the coffee table that you quickly used for kindling.

Because what has God ever done for you?

He sure as fuck wasn't as merciless as he claimed to be.

Although he'd given her and her husband an easy enough death hadn't he?

You were sure the rest of her family didn't meet the same gentle fate.

In the end there was only one true God and that was Death.

Ever waiting and watching, coming to steal you away before you could even blink with nothing to show you ever existed at all save for your own headstone, least til that crumbled away.

You jolt out of bed, rushing towards the book as if it whispered your name all this time and now it was shouting.

Screaming, demanding your undivided attention until you flip open the front cover. Old cursive greets you as the pages sigh, rolling over birth and death dates until you're forced to flip to the back, finding the first two names without death dates but plausible birth dates that would line up to their age and the End. Slamming the generations old book as you rise.

Finding yourself outside, bare foot. Knife in your hand and your breaths coming out in ragged puffs.

Scrapping along the tops of the wooden rocking chairs like a woman possessed, carefully carving the letters into the headrest of the rocking chairs.

Stepping back in a fever to admire your work, feet numb from the biting cold ground before you turn on your heel.

They echo back to you as if you'd carved each curving letter into your psyche instead of the smooth stained grain. Unsure if the haunting was that of thanks or scorn and you were sure a poltergeist was the least of your concern.

Even as you drift the names burn your retinas as if to remind you whose home you spent the night in.

ASTRID EMROY

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning you find yourself trapped in the house by deep snow so you poke around the home. Rearranging some things here and there but not to disturb the personal belongings just yet.

Even though you know you won't stay long, never breaking one of your many rules that lead you to survive this long. But why not disturbing their belongs matters to you, you aren't sure.

Maybe it's the way that this home is untouched. Truly loved and lived in, while the other houses you've squatted in were long since looted. Ransacked and trashed, taken back by the unforgiving weather and those desperate enough to defile what was once someone's home.

For others, their Hell within four walls and maybe the big End meant nothing to them anyway. Besides, it wasn't like you weren't one of the many who rooted through homes and hissed when you found nothing of use, just fading photographs and old DVDs and CDs. Shit that didn't matter now.

Right now you were mostly looking for a good pen with a plan to roughly guess the year so you could add the rough date beside their names and put their bible up somewhere. As if compelled to end their chapter properly so that they may live on despite, their bloodline most likely having died long before them.

The couple really didn't have much and you were sure if you tried you could dedicate one small wall and bookshelf to their personal belongings to honor them. The thought makes you suck your teeth, so easily you cling to sentimental bullshit, out of spite now their things would be lucky to be stored away in a box.

On the dusty coffee table are two sets of coasters, tops well worn from sweating drinks, a black leather book and a copy of The Great Gatsby with a broken spine.

The book peaks your interest, hadn't read it since highschool and even then that felt like a foreign memory. Of harsh fluorescent lights that buzzed loud enough you were sure you'd go deaf to them after having lived in silence for so long. Tossing the tattered paperback onto the old wood top before your fingers grab for the worn leather spine, flipping the pages to see dozens and dozens of entries.

You settle into the old couch, the fire in the wood stove keeping the place warm as the sun lazily bleeds in through the windows to provide you with just enough light to read as you flip it open you're met with a threat.

If ya settle here ya better watch over our goddamn farm.

The cover page makes you snort, flipping the thick page to consume what you could, hoping there would be some hints on where they stashed their canned goods and supplies. Even if it didn't provide you with anything, at least it helped past the time.

Jan 31 20XX Six years after the "Rapture"

It's ain't all fucking peachy keen as I'm sure ya can see and I'm comin to realize that I ain't built to live forever.

And if I was, I couldn't imagine a worse hell than this.

If ya settled here in our little house I've got some rules.

No drinks on my damn coffee table without a coaster. I got plenty of 'em. The ones from my birthday (they got cats on em but the paint'll be rubbed off by now I'm sure) or the ones Emroy made outta small trees. Hell use a book if ya gotta.

Two, you best sweep this home. I don't care where ya came from or who ya came from, what god you do or don't worship but there is one thing for certain, house as old as this has a spirit and ya best keep it happy. Open the front and back door (good cross breeze in the sweltering summer) and you sweep my damn house.

Or I just might be the spirit that haunts ya.

Reckon that's it. So I'll quit my belly achin and step down from my soapbox to learn ya a thing or two.

Now if you're a country folk and from 'round these parts y'all'll know two things. When snows a coming, or rain, y'all can smell it real easy in the air. Can't tell ya the smell but if you know ya know. And the second being it always snows heavier in the next coming weeks before spring than it will in the dead of winter.

Now if you're from the city or just can't smell like ya used to, Bets the cow will be able to tell ya. She won't come out, simple as that and by the next day snow'll be up to your knees and Bets will look at you like she told you so.

Hopefully she'll live that long, seems this disease ain't affecting the animals like it is us folks. Reckon we didn't pray hard enough or some preachy shit Gran would've said. Now if the cow ain't there to tell ya, the farm log will. Use yer head, you'll see the pattern even with the blasted greed fueled heat spikes. It's best to prepare for the worst. We've enough canned rations to last us a lifetime in the cellar but Emory and I are old as dirt, it won't last forever but as long as these hands can can, they'll can what he grows.

Emory, my husband, says hello. Wants me to tell the "stranger" that's you I reckon, that the Great Gatsby is worth the read and that if ya find yourself with nothing to do, which ya will eventually, you should read it.

Go on now, get back to surviving and be sure to dust my damn picture frames too.

Yours truly,

Astrid & Emory.

Pushy. You think to yourself but relish in the fact that old folks like to ramble, even in written form. Quick to explore the home to find the cellar doors in the fading short lived light of winter before realizing the age of the home.

Shit, it's probably buried under a whole foot and a half of snow, you could exhume it now but you and twilight always seemed to have bad luck.

It's when you've been raided most and almost bitten more times than you can count and after finding this place you don't wish to push your luck. Even if the undead were few and far between in bumfuck nowhere.

Flipping open the cabinets in the kitchen you find a few manufactured canned meats. Fingers smoothing out the old label for any sign of denting or damage that could lead to botulism. Finding none makes you pop open the can to sit atop the old black wood stove, glass casting the room in a soft orange that rivals the sunset. It makes you pull the blinds closed in caution, not wanting any light to attract unwanted guests and when the wind howls you wrap tighter in one of the many blankets lying around.

Three days pass and there is only so many times you can study the farm logs and widdle wood into pitiful shapes with your dull knife before you drive yourself mad. Still avoiding the books for now in some sort of spite or rebellion to God knows who before you're outside and bundled up. Shovel in hand as you scrape the metal spade all along the foundation of the house until you hear a satisfying tink.

Your luck would be to start in the wrong direction and have to walk all the way back around the house just for the damn thing to be on the left side of the back porch instead of the right. Shoveling away the icy snow before coming across the wooden cellar doors. You wonder if you'll have to replace them soon but your curiosity of the future dies when you spy a combination padlock. Sucking your teeth pull a bobby pin from your hair, straightening it out and wiggling it between the rusting dials, scraping it around before feeling the soft give of the locking mechanism. You jab roughly and the lock pops open making you smile as if you hadn't picked anything ten times as hard.

Taking the steps into the deep cellar where the air was cool yes but warmer than outside. As if it were deep enough in the Earth to stay a balmy fifty degrees even in summer heat. Flash light paints the darkness in harsh white when you spy a candle and a box of matches into an enclave built right into the old cobblestone.

Once the fire flickers to life you switch your flashlight off, pocketing it as the candle washes the old glass jars and few metal cans aglow.

Jarred jerky catches your eye first as you snatch for that, then a small jar of syrupy looking strawberries, as bright red as when they were first picked, making your mouth salivate. The place neatly organized and labeled, the metal cans of all of those beef stews that were upstairs despite there only being enough of those left to last through this winter. Even if you stretched them out with water. Finger following the shelf lining to try to find more sweet fruit coming across the word peaches under a layer of dust.

Delight you look up, just to find the shelf empty and the sight of it makes you snarl.

But at least you had your strawberries.

They taste like late spring, like your childhood when you'd pick the berries at the local farm. How the sun beating down on your back made them taste that much sweeter in the field. A little reward paid by the sweat on your brow and the money your mother would toll out for the fresh fruit.

Well, well worth the price.

Spring is coming like her book says and you sweep and dust her house.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou Katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #kitten writes bakugou 🖤🐈‍⬛ 🖋️

344 notes · View notes

callsign-fox · 2 years

Text

Uninvited Guest - Rooster + Druig

Pairing: Druig x Fem!Eternal // Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Fem!Eternal

Thank you to @fanficgirl429 @mrsroosterbradshaw02 and @a-reader-and-a-writer for looking this over! <3

I had a random idea to do a Marvel/Top Gun imagine and here it is!! Please be sure to let me know what you think! Enjoy xoxo

Prompt: You reveal a big secret to your boyfriend after your old boyfriend shows up out of nowhere.

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

I sat quietly on the couch across from the one person I never thought I’d see in my house. He was quiet as well, scanning over my features in an attempt to figure out what I was thinking. He should know better, being that I was the only one in our family that was capable of hiding their emotions.

“Are you going to say anything?”

My eyes narrowed in on him. “Druig, I haven’t seen you in over 500 years. How else would you expect me to react?”

He leaned back into the couch, making himself comfortable. “Good point.”

I shook my head before reaching for my phone and reading over the text I received from my boyfriend.

I’m on my way over, I’ll be there in ten.

The sudden fear of my current boyfriend seeing my ex-boyfriend sitting in my living room took over me.

“What are you doing here? And make it quick.”

Druig sat up and rested his elbows on his knees. “What’s the rush?”

“I have company coming over and I don’t need them asking questions.”

He smiled. “They don’t know about you?“

I rolled my eyes. “No, they don’t know about me, Druig. What am I supposed to say; ‘Hey guys, by the way, I’m not human and have superpowers. Also, I’m immortal and a few million years old’.”

Druig nodded and I was losing my patience.

“Fine,” he started. “Long story short, we defeated the deviants again, Tiamut is asleep temporarily. I gather you know about the celestial sticking out of the Pacific Ocean?”

Part of me was hurt when my only family didn’t contact me when they all went off to fight the remaining deviants. The other part, realized I had an obligation to the Navy and that the mission I was on at the time was just as important as theirs. Either Tiamut consumed the planet, or nuclear war destroyed it.

I nodded. “Yeah, Sersi caught me up on all of that stuff. How we don’t really matter, everything we stood for was a lie. Yup, I got all that.”

It was the first time I ever saw sympathy in his eyes, but he continued on.

“Well, everyone else is off doing other things and I’ve run into a problem I can't solve on my own.”

“What?”

At that moment the front door opened and my boyfriend Bradley entered the room. He looked at Druig, then to me.

“Ugh, hey. Who is this?” Bradley asked, placing his duffle on the floor.

Druig laughed, “This is your company?”

I shot Druig a warning glare before getting up from the couch and walking toward Bradley.

“Babe, this is Druig. He is an old friend of mine, from the academy.”

Bradley nodded in Druig’s direction. “Nice to meet you, you can call me Rooster.”

Druig leaned forward and shook his hand. “Rooster, like a chicken?”

Bradley ignored him and turned back to me. “What is going on?”

”He was in the area and stopped by to say hello, but it’s about time for him to go now,” I said, reaching for Druig’s hand and pulling him off of the couch.

Bradley stood there watching as I pulled Druig toward the door.

“Pleasure meeting you, Bradley! Hey Y/N, why don’t you just tell him the truth?”

My fingers curled into a fist and I lightly punched Druig in the stomach. “Shut up!”

He smiled, and I turned around to see Bradley only a foot away from me.

“What the hell is going on?”

Druig opened his mouth to speak and before I could rethink my decision, my palm glowed gold and the front door flew open. Bradley’s eyes widened, and Druig laughed as I shoved him out the door with my powers, slamming it shut behind him.

Bradley was silent as he took in exactly what had just happened. I had tried on multiple occasions to tell him who I was and what I was capable of, but never found the right time. I guess now was better than later.

There was a knock at the door and I ignored it.

“I'm sorry, I know this can be shocking for you. Are you okay?”

Bradley shook his head. “No, no I’m fine. I just need you to explain to me what the fuck just happened!”

There was another knock on the door and I unlocked it to let Druig in.

Druig and I exchanged looks before before I sat down on the couch beside Bradley.

“Why are you always so aggressive?” Druig asked, sitting on the couch across from me.

I rolled my eyes. “This is not the time, Druig.”

We both turned to Bradley who was listening to the exchange.

“I can explain everything to you. Do you want the short version or the long one?”

It didn't take long for him to answer. “I want to know everything.”

Before we knew it three hours had gone by. Druig and I explained everything to Bradley. Everything from the day we arrived on earth, to the moment Druig ended up at my front door. He sat quietly on the couch listening to everything we said, only asking a few questions. Besides that, he seemed much calmer than when the conversation first started, and I was confident he wouldn’t freak out.

“So,” he started, running his fingers through his shaggy blonde hair. “Did you have anything to do with that whole Thanos thing?”

I shook my head. “No, as I told you earlier. We always had strict rules not to get involved.”

“You clearly don’t follow them seeing that you work for the Navy.”

He wasn’t wrong. Flying for the Navy meant I had a hand in stopping wars, killing enemies, and progressing technology. That was definitely against Ajak’s wishes.

Bradley turned to Druig and continued, “You haven’t said why you are here now.”

Druig nodded. “I found another Deviant, but this one’s different. It can shapeshift and take the shape of any human or animal. It’s going to be harder to find, but we need to take it out.”

“And you can’t go after it because you aren’t a badass like me,” I said confidently.

Bradley looked at me and I knew exactly what he was thinking. He was always one to help anyone who needed it, and this was more important than helping the old neighbor carry in groceries.

“Fine, I’ll come with you. I just need to pack a bag, I’ll be quick.”

Druig stood up and headed for the door. “Nice to meet you, Rooster. I’ll try to bring her back in one piece.”

I rolled my eyes at Druig before he stood up and walked out the door.

Bradley pulled my attention when he got up from the couch and moved to sit beside me. He wrapped his arm around my waist and smiled down at me.

“A lot of things that didn’t make sense before, make sense now.”

I leaned into him, “Like what?”

Bradley went on. “There were times when I should have died, but somehow I survived. Times when we got out of really bad situations with not a scratch. That time I ended up in the hospital after my crash, I could have sworn I saw you pick me up. I remember that gold coming from your hands. I thought it was a hallucination, turns out it was you.”

“I was willing to risk you finding out in order to keep you safe.”

His hand brushed my cheek as he tilted my head up and placed a soft kiss on my lips.

“I promise, I’ll be back soon. Just don’t forget about me while I’m gone.” I whispered, pressing my hand to his chest.

He laughed, “Yeah right. You’re a superhero, I’m never going to be able to get over you.”

“Good,” I said, kissing him again. “Because I don’t want you to.”

#druig #druig eternals #eternals #eternals imagine #eternals fanfiction #marvel imagines #marvel fanfctions #rooster #rooster imagine #rooster fanfictions #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagines #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun maverick imagines #top gun maverick fanfictions

152 notes · View notes

nightingaelic · 1 year

Note

FO4 Companions react to Sole finding their parents' house virtually untouched by the nuclear annihilation? Essentially preserved by it instead of outright destroyed?

"Ten o'clock. The sun came out from behind the rain. The house stood alone in a city of rubble and ashes. This was the one house left standing. At night the ruined city gave off a radioactive glow which could be seen for miles."

~ Ray Bradbury, "There Will Come Soft Rains"

It was a long shot. Everyone had told them so, after they'd gotten over the initial shock about the vault, the missing years, their real age. But the sole survivor was determined, and there was no way their companion would let them go alone.

The journey was long, perilous, full of shattered asphalt and irradiated creatures with too many heads. Too many limbs. Too many reasons to turn around and retreat to the safety of better-known roads. The pair of travelers kept going anyway, until they finally stood in the street with the name the sole survivor had memorized in grade school, looking up at a house number that had barely faded.

The sole survivor opened the door with the key they had recovered in Sanctuary and stepped into a world that no longer existed. They moved through their childhood home like a dream, running their fingers along the walls as they went. Dust motes took to the air in their wake, swirling in the rays of sunshine that shone through intact windowpanes. The rest of the house remained still: Appliances on the kitchen counter, throw pillows on the couch, pictures on the dresser in the largest bedroom.

Slowly, the sole survivor slid open a drawer in the dresser. A neat stack of folded shirts lay inside, and they lifted the top one with unsure hands. After a moment, they pressed it to their face, then their tightened chest. "I didn't think..."

Cait: "That this place would still be standing?" Cait rubbed her nose and looked away. "I've no clue why it is. All this, just sitting here, and not so much as a broken window."

The sole survivor looked up at the ceiling, then around at the corners of the room. "There's hardly... hardly even water damage. I guess the roof did hold up, after all."

They looked down at the shirt they were holding and hugged it tighter. "You were right, it did make it a few more years," they said softly. "I still would've paid for it. You know that, right?"

"You reckon they can hear you?" Cait asked, jerking her head toward the shirt questioningly.

The sole survivor didn't answer her. They bit their lip, then folded the shirt up again and began tugging open more drawers. "Just give me a bit to find some stuff, okay?"

Codsworth: "Oh, dear." Codsworth bobbed anxiously in the bedroom doorway. "A... apart from the dust, it's in truly remarkable condition. If only your own house had held together so well."

"It's fine, Codsworth." The sole survivor sniffed and rubbed their eyes. "You did your best. I guess Sanctuary saw more... strife, after the war."

"Shall I begin tidying up?" Codsworth offered. "If I know your family, they would certainly appreciate a little helpful housework."

"Sure, Codsworth. You can... you can start in the kitchen. Let me know if you find any... any food that survived."

"Of course." Codsworth ducked out and floated down the hall, out of sight. The sole survivor waited until they heard the bot open cupboards before sinking onto the edge of the bed, letting the shirt cover their sobs.

Curie: "Mon chou." Curie slid her arms around the sole survivor. "I am so very sorry."

She held them as they cried, rocking gently until their shoulders no longer shook and their tears had all been dried with the shirt. Curie patted them on the back when they were quiet again, but she did not let go immediately. "Do you know what happened to them?" she asked.

"I... not... not for sure," the sole survivor admitted. "I don't even know what they were doing that day. They can't have been here, or this place wouldn't be... wouldn't be... right?"

"Perhaps not." Curie sighed and let go of them. She tilted their chin up and wiped away one last tear with her thumb. "If it is not too hard for you, we can look around and see what remains. C'est bon?"

Paladin Danse: Though Danse was still on alert in this new place, he dropped his defensive stance for a moment. "If you would rather be alone for this, I can certainly-"

"Don't go." The sole survivor sniffed and closed their eyes. "I just... I don't..."

They laughed, a high-pitched sound of desperation. "How am I supposed to feel about this? Why did I come here, did I really think that... that they would still be here? God, I'm..."

"Peace, soldier." Danse sighed and let the barrel of his laser rifle drop to point at the floor. "It's natural to want closure. It's human to seek answers. Take whatever time you need, and when you're ready to decide what to do, I'll be outside."

The sole survivor took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. Un... understood, Paladin."

Deacon: Deacon gritted his teeth. "Yeah... it's weird, right?"

That brought a small chuckle, momentarily breaking the tension. Deacon charged into the opening. "I mean, I didn't want to say anything, since it's your parents' house and all, but if I ever wandered into a place that looked this perfect inside, I'd turn right around and leave. Did they have a Mister Handy too, or...?"

"No." The sole survivor wiped away the tears that had been threatening to fall. "This place might not be so dusty, if they had."

Deacon shrugged. "All things considered, it's still a 10 out of 10 in my travelogue. No radroaches, no super mutants, no cannibals... hell, if it wasn't so out of the way, I'd consider recommending it to Dez as a safehouse."

Dogmeat: Dogmeat padded over to them and scratched their leg with his paw.

The sole survivor held onto the shirt a few seconds longer, then leaned down to offer it to the German shepherd. "It's been too long, buddy," they said. "They're gone. Even you're not that good of a tracker."

Mayor John Hancock: "Damn." Hancock lifted his tricorn hat and scratched his scalp. "Do you want some time alone, or...?"

The sole survivor squeezed their eyes shut and kicked the dresser. It thudded unhelpfully, and all they came away with was a bruise. "Fuck!"

"Take it easy." Hancock gently pulled them away from the offending piece of furniture and took the shirt. "If you aren't careful, you'll lose a toe. Trust me, I speak from experience."

When they started crying, Hancock sat them down on the bed and rooted around in his coat pockets until he found a mostly-clean handkerchief and a syringe of Calmex. The sole survivor accepted the handkerchief, but not the chem, so he rubbed their shoulder until they'd quit sobbing and progressed to hiccups. "Can't be easy to see," he murmured. "Like traveling back in time."

The sole survivor sniffed and handed him his handkerchief back. "Is it bad to say that sometimes... sometimes I wish I could?"

"Nah. I wish it too, on bad days."

Robert Joseph MacCready: "Ah, geez." MacCready flipped his rifle around to his back and opened his arms wide. "Come here."

The sole survivor accepted the hug, and they shook for a bit as he held them. "Hope you don't... don't charge for emotional support services," they joked halfheartedly.

"I don't normally offer them," MacCready replied. "This is different. My heart's not frozen, you know."

"As opposed to mine?"

"Come on. Cryo didn't change you that much, boss." MacCready drew back and gripped their shoulders. "Do you want to get out of here? Can always come back later, when you're more up for it."

"I... yeah." The sole survivor nodded. "Baby steps, right?"

"Baby steps."

Nick Valentine: "Didn't think it'd look like the day you last saw it," Nick finished for them. "Yeah. Kind of amazing, really. Take it from someone else who's technically pre-war, this is downright spooky."

He caught the quiver of their lip and softened his judgment immediately. "Hey, it's not necessarily a bad omen. Maybe they were here for a while, then left when they got word of somewhere better. Maybe they had someone taking care of the place."

"But where did they go?" the sole survivor asked. "Were they safe, were they scared, did they know that I made it into the vault with-"

"Deep breaths." Nick put a hand on their shoulder. "Take a minute for yourself, alright? After that, we can look around. There's bound to be something here that can point us in the right direction."

Piper Wright: "Aw, Blue," Piper said sadly. "I'm really sorry."

The sole survivor turned, sat down on the edge of the bed. They pressed the shirt to their cheek, squeezing their eyes shut. Piper crossed the room, sat down too and put an arm around them while they cried.

When they stopped shaking, Piper pointed to the faded photographs in standing frames. "Tell me who's who. So I can put names to faces."

They stayed like that for a while, the sole survivor recounting days gone by and the reporter asking the occasional question. By the time they were finished, the dust had settled again, and the sunlight through the windows had new slants that made the house seem a little brighter.

Preston Garvey: Preston took off his hat. "I'm sorry, General," he said quietly. "I wish..."

The sole survivor gulped, then folded the shirt up again. "Yeah. Me too."

They carefully slid the item of clothing back onto its stack, then turned to take in the rest of the room. "I don't know if this is better or worse than what I was expecting."

"It's... unusual," Preston admitted. "But maybe they meant to leave it like this. In case you came back, one day."

The sole survivor turned back to him and smiled sadly. "That would be the first time they tidied up just for me," they said. "One final housecleaning."

They moved to leave the room, then paused and threw their arms around Preston. He hugged them back, regretting the fact that he had nothing better to say.

Strong: Strong looked around the room with obvious disappointment. "Why here?" he asked.

"Just go back outside," the sole survivor replied, their voice almost a croak. "I'll come find you when I'm ready to go. And don't touch anything on your way out."

Strong ducked out of the bedroom and shuffled back down the hall. "No milk," he grumbled. "Strong find somewhere else."

X6-88: X6-88 nodded. "Time does not appear to have been as harsh on this neighborhood as others. The Institute has observed similar locations in the past."

The sole survivor looked up. Their eyes were red. "Where else?"

"All over the wasteland. Primarily small streets outside of larger metropolitan areas. It appears to be due to factors such as post-war upkeep, fluke weather conditions, and lack of resources that interest scavengers. Occasionally, the presence of dangers that show no interest in buildings, but are enough to drive the overly-curious away."

The sole survivor looked around in alarm. "Dangers? Do you think we're-"

"Possibly." X6-88 shifted his readied laser rifle. "Do not worry. No harm will come to us. But we should not linger."

BONUS!

Ada: Ada tilted her assaultron head in respect. "It's impressive. I am well-acquainted with regular maintenance and sanitation in order to keep basic processes functional. The state of this dwelling suggests that your family valued the same routines."

"Thank you, Ada," the sole survivor murmured. They rubbed the shirt fabric between their fingers, as if trying to sense the one who used to wear it, summon them back into the world.

By their body language, Ada gathered that they needed some space. She turned and made her way back toward the front door, protectron legs clanking. She scanned each of the rooms she passed, but none of them held any clues as to the fates of the people that used to live there. Perhaps that was for the better.

Old Longfellow: Longfellow grunted his agreement. "Strange."

The sole survivor put the shirt back and shut the drawer. "I thought maybe there would be a handful of things to take home, but this... if I try to carry it all, I'll break my back."

Longfellow nodded. "Leave it. If it's made it this long, it'll keep a while longer."

"But what do I take?"

"Valuables."

They made a face at him. "You and I have different ideas of what's valuable."

In response, Longfellow picked up one of the pictures on the dresser. It had the young sole survivor at the front of it, chubby-faced and smiling while their family waved behind them.

"Yeah." The sole survivor accepted the dusty frame and wiped it clean with their coat sleeve. "This one was always my favorite."

Porter Gage: "Didn't think it'd look the same as when they froze you?" Gage shook his head. "This place has bad luck written all over it, Overboss. Best to be done here quickly. What are we looking for again?"

"Just looking." The sole survivor stuffed the shirt in their pack and grabbed a few more. "These ought to fit me, now. Go check the other rooms, see what you can find."

Gage obliged, ducking into a bathroom and another bedroom before striking gold in a closet. He came away with a pair of boots that were his size, a baseball bat, and a jacket that still looked pretty waterproof.

The sole survivor emerged from the bedroom, swiped the jacket from him and tugged it on. "Mine."

"How much?"

"More than you can afford."

Elder Arthur Maxson: Maxson shifted uncomfortably in the doorway. "Should I..."

The sole survivor glanced up at him, suddenly self-conscious. "Um. Sure. If you don't... yeah."

Maxson stepped outside the room and pulled the door closed behind him. It latched shut with a soft click. The Elder checked that it would open again if need be, then made his way back to the front of the house.

The sole survivor found him a little while later, perusing a shelf of books in the living room. The spines were stiff and their pages loose, but Maxson was handling each one with the reverence of a historian. He glanced up as they approached, pretending not to notice their reddened eyes and nose. "Your family's care has preserved some priceless things," he said.

"Oh." The sole survivor took a deep breath, then caught sight of the book he was holding. "That's just a pulp science fiction collection."

"I am aware."

Desdemona: Desdemona looked around the room. A sad smile ghosted along her lips. "It's charming," she said.

"I- thanks." The sole survivor smiled back, though a tear had already escaped their eye. "It was home, once."

"And you were lucky to know such a place." Desdemona moved to sit down on the edge of the bed. "Come on. Sit down."

The sole survivor obeyed her, still clutching the shirt. Desdemona pried it away slowly and rolled it up, then put an arm around them. "You know they aren't here anymore. But that doesn't mean their end was a hard one."

"Look at the rest of the street." The sole survivor gestured toward the room's window. "This world didn't die well. And if their house looks like this, then that means... that means they didn't make it home."

"Would you rather they lingered?" Desdemona asked quietly.

"No, but-"

"There is no happy ending you can write for them." Desdemona looked toward the window, watching the sun peek through it. "You are the happy ending, now. What you do with that is up to you."

#fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #companions react #sole survivor #12 days of ficmas

88 notes · View notes

pickledpascal · 6 months

Text

New Perspective

Chapter Eleven: The Great War

Warnings: Misgendering, transphobia, crying, feeling like you're not enough, sex jokes except they're not funny.

Word Count: 4.4k

New Perspective Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Thanksgiving day.

Jensen had gotten up early to make Avery breakfast. Similar to the first time they ever slept in the same room together. A full-circle moment. He made brown sugar ham, something he usually had on a holiday morning when everything else in the fridge was meant for dinner. When Avery came down, she was dressed in one of Jensen's button-ups but her underwear was still showing with her hair a mess. Jensen liked the look on her. She breathed in the smell and let out a shaky breath. She looked as if she was a kicked puppy.

Immediately, Jensen panicked. Did he do something wrong? He turned off the stove and went up to Avery, holding her in his arms. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"I-I haven't had brown sugar ham in a while." Avery mumbled into Jensen's shoulder. The last time, it was on Easter. Years ago. "My dad made it a lot. Haven't had it since." Most things that reminded Avery of her father died when she came out. Others were fine, harmless. Like waffles.

Jensen cupped Avery's cheek, seeing the gentleness of sorrow in her eyes. "Do you want me to make something else?"

"No." She whispered, glancing over to the stove. "No, I want to have some. I want to see if it's as good as I remember it." Jensen let Avery go as he transferred the ham into a large bowl. "Plus, maybe it'll remind me of you instead."

Jensen smiled softly at Avery and watched as she took a few slices. She took a bite from one. He eagerly awaited her response. Avery looked contemplative. Would she allow herself to enjoy such a simple food? Her lips broke into a small smile. A step in the right direction.

"Usually, I pride myself on not letting my dad still control my life. But there's still… some things." Avery admitted softly, glancing down at her plate. "I don't even know why." She was desperate to let Jensen know but she wasn't sure how to explain her life before her transition.

It was horrible.

Sure, from the outside Avery's family might have looked normal. A middle-class nuclear family with three boys, a dog, and a decently sized house in the suburbs of a major city but there was so much more beneath that.

Jensen sat next to Avery and carefully took her hand. He'd listen to her, no matter what. Avery knew that and yet there was still something holding her back. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes.

"I haven't always… been so happy." Avery said softly. "I haven't always had my friends. I haven't always had people who loved me for me. I was… just another sob story of a trans person." She laughed bitterly. "My mom–she yearned for a girl and yet she didn't love me when I told her I was one. Even before I came out, my dad couldn't look at me the same way he did my brothers. I was never enough. They never beat me but they didn't love me. College was my escape. But I had no one. Until I found Mercer… and then Jay and then Elena and then Sammy." Tears had rolled down her cheeks and she made no move to wipe them away. She just let them flow.

"And there was you." Avery finally looked at Jensen and squeezed his hand. "Before I came out, I related so much to Dean and I couldn't quite point out why. Until I realized we wanted so desperately to be loved by our dads. To be enough for them. Parents who don't deserve us." She finally held up a hand to wipe her eyes only for Jensen to do it for her.

Jensen moved Avery's glasses so they sat atop her head as he wiped her cheeks. "Your dad sounds like an asshat. So does your mom." Avery let out a breathy laugh at that. "I mean it. They're missing out on such a beautiful, successful, smart girl." He pressed a kiss to her nose, where the majority of her freckles were. "So fuck them for not seeing you."

Avery chuckled softly at the contact and leaned into Jensen's warm hands. "Yeah." She looked into Jensen's eyes. The muted color of green they were was swamp-like. A deep green that would have made a nice paint color in a Victorian home. "It's… a bit cringe. But when I look at you, when I realize I have you, I feel like everything I've gone through is nothing if it means I get to have you. If I get to be with you in the way that I want."

Jensen pressed his lips against Avery's. He wasn't sure how else to react, what could he say in response to that? A thanks wouldn't be enough. It never would have been. He was glad Avery was in his life too. He would have been going through the motions, dead on the inside. Now, Jensen felt alive. His chest was full of emotion. Love. And everything that came with it. The overwhelming feeling of sympathy for his partner.

The need to keep her safe while also knowing he can't always do that. Avery has a whole life ahead of her, one that Jensen can't predict. She'll get hurt, she'll fall down, but Jensen would be the one to help pick herself up and try to lead her down a path that's less full of thorns.

"If I could…" Avery pulled away from Jensen's lips as she took in his face like it was the first time again. "If I could tell my younger self something, I think I'd tell her to trust herself. I get you."

Jensen smiled warmly. "I think I'd tell myself that love will hit me like a train. And I'll just be along for the ride."

A lop-sided smile appeared on Avery's lips. Love filled her chest. It weighed her down yet she didn't think of it that way. It was a fluttery feeling. She couldn't quite describe it in a fully articulate way. Just that it felt good. It was fulfilling and made her feel whole.

After breakfast, Jensen and Avery got ready for the evening. Jensen dressed himself in a navy blue sweater that Avery got him as a housewarming gift and a pair of black slacks with shoes that matched his sweater nicely. His hair was left the same as usual, away from his face with a few strands that made it their job not to stay where he wanted them to be. After Halloween, Jensen had Avery repaint his nails after they began to chip, so his nails were still painted black. That was sure to cause a stir within his extended family but he didn't care much. Jensen only saw them for holidays.

Avery wore a gray turtleneck underneath a brown plaid dress that ended just above her knees, a pair of gray socks, and heels that had a buckle on the side. Jensen realized that was the first time he'd ever seen her wear heels. She didn't need to wear them in the first place, she was almost as tall as Jensen without them. With the heels, she was an inch or so taller—the height of the heel was only three inches.

"Do you mind if I take your leather jacket?" Avery asked as she fastened the buckles of her heels. Jensen shook his head as he adjusted the watch on his wrist. Avery grabbed the leather jacket that lay at the end of the bed and put it on. It went with her outfit nicely.

Jensen looked lovingly at Avery. She looked amazing in his clothes. "Do you ever think about how I'd look in your clothes?"

Avery looked Jensen up and down. "Every day. Why?"

"Just a question." He said honestly.

Avery sat at the end of the bed as Jensen grabbed another jacket from his closet. A brown leather jacket. Avery played with the end of her dress and then adjusted her socks, they slipped down slightly. Too much for her liking. She was nervous. Jensen's parents are what mattered but Avery didn't like the prospect of being the neighborhood's gossip. She likely was going to be after tonight.

"Sweetheart," Jensen breathed, cupping Avery's chin. "You know that if anything happens—anything—you can talk to me and we'll leave. We can grab some of my mom's pie and eat on Baby's hood."

Avery's eyes lit up at the mention of the car. "We're taking the Impala?" She had always liked cars but she blamed Supernatural for her obsession with them.

"If you want." Jensen knew she'd want to if her Mustang was anything to go by.

"Yeah. That sounds nice." Avery smiled softly as she stood up.

As they made their way into the garage, Avery's mouth dropped open. She had seen quite a few replicas of Baby but there was nothing like the real thing. The black glossy coat of paint was the perfect color for a 1967 Impala that she couldn't imagine one in a different color.

"That almost rivals the way you first looked at me." Jensen joked softly. "C'mon, sweetheart." The driver’s door creaked as he opened it. Like it always did on the show.

Avery got in the passenger door and sighed contentedly. The bench seat felt like she assumed it would, comforting in a strange way. Like the second home the brothers intended it to be. Then there was the overwhelming smell of Jensen in the car. Like apple wood chips smoking for hours. Masculine but there was a sense of fruit. A fruit Avery would happily gorge herself on.

"How many girls have you had in here?" Avery teased softly.

Jensen started the ignition with a loud roar. It shook Avery to her core. "Just one."

Avery chuckled bashfully as she pulled her seatbelt over her body. She glanced at the back seat from the rearview mirror, scenes of Dean giving girls the time of their life back there came to the forefront of her mind. She let out a cough to clear her mind. It didn't work well.

When they arrived at the Ackles house, Avery's mood changed completely. There were at least six or seven different cars in the driveway and on the side of the road. For a moment, Avery wondered if they could just get their food to go. She glanced at Jensen who was staring at her.

Now or never.

Avery stepped out of the car. Jensen followed suit. "Should we have brought something?" She whispered as they made their way to the door.

"Nah, my mom would have a lot of leftovers and, well, after Thanksgiving, they don't need that much food." Jensen pressed a kiss to Avery's temple and knocked on the door. He had a key but he liked to let his mom know when he was there.

Donna greeted the pair with a smile and hugged them tightly. "I'm glad we didn't scare you away."

Avery was still debating if that was true. "Of course not." She laughed dryly.

"Come on, darlin', the family is dying to meet you." Donna waved them inside. Avery felt an alarm go off in her head. Why?

Jensen stopped his mother. "Momma, who's been talking about Avery?" He didn't want to talk about this in front of other people. It'd only give them more to talk about. And if there was something a Southern family loved, it was gossip.

"Everyone, why?" Donna was blissfully unaware.

"Was it Auntie Mary?" Jensen pressed. Avery wasn't sure who Auntie Mary was but she assumed it was the biggest transphobe in their family.

Donna pursed her lips in thought. "I believe so."

Jensen sighed. "Auntie Mary doesn't like people like Avery." Bingo. Avery was right.

Donna's eyebrows furrowed. She frowned. "If she says anything, I'll have Alan have a word with her. Does that sound okay?"

Jensen looked at Avery for an answer. "If it's no trouble." She eventually said.

"It won't be. Sometimes I don't even know why we invite Aunt Mary to these things." Donna quickly said as they ventured into the house. She said it so casually as if it was common knowledge.

Avery glanced at Jensen who just pursed his lips. Elena was the only person Avery knew of that had a Southern family dynamic but, even then, Avery had never been a part of that dynamic. She never visited for Thanksgiving, Christmas, or any other holiday. The only time she'd see Elena's parents was when they visited Columbia.

When Avery saw Mackenzie, she was greeted with a hug. "Hey! You look amazing! Much better than yesterday if you ask me." She teased softly as she nudged Avery's arm.

"Yeah." Was Avery's dry response as she looked around. She wasn't sure how else to. The house was buzzing with activity. All kinds of people she had never met before. Young children, middle-aged adults, and elders. All related somehow. Parents, children, grandchildren.

"Don't feel so intimidated, sweetie." Mackenzie whispered, wrapping an arm around Avery's shoulder to bring her close. "Just stay close to me."

Avery nodded with a half-smile. She appreciated Mackenzie but she had a nagging feeling something would go wrong. She was right most of the time.

"Can I leave you with her?" Jensen asked softly. He spotted a few friends from across the kitchen.

Avery waved him off. "I'll be fine." She hoped she would be. Her plan was to stay by the kitchen so she could stay by Donna and Mackenzie.

"Are you sure?" Jensen looked into Avery's eyes. He could see the nervousness in them.

Avery nodded. "Yep."

"I repel half our family anyway. The rebel girl, remember?" Mackenzie winked.

Jensen shook his head and brought Mackenzie into a half-hug, pressing a kiss to her temple. It messed up her hair a bit. "Thanks, kiddo." He walked off.

Avery smiled softly at the interaction. Jensen was an affectionate guy. Her brothers were nowhere near the level of affectionate he was. Partly because they had assumed Avery was a boy most of her life and boys weren't supposed to hug each other. Or that's what their parents taught them. The one brother Avery still had contact with didn't hug her. She wondered if there was a reason for it but she didn't feel like she was missing out. Just happy Jensen could express affection for his family.

"You have brothers?" Mackenzie asked after seeing the look in Avery's eyes.

She nodded. "Two. Like you. I'm the youngest too." Avery admitted with a light smile.

"What're their names?" Mackenzie wanted to get to know Avery, especially if she'd stay with Jensen for a while.

"Uh, Jacob and Joseph. I really only talk to Jacob, though." Avery hummed softly. She didn't feel weird talking about them compared to the rest of her life.

Mackenzie tilted her head as she took a sip of wine. It had been sitting on the counter next to her. "Oh, why?"

"Joseph moved to the middle of nowhere in Utah and we kinda," Avery pursed her lips. "Lost contact, I guess. Never talk. Jacob texts me every so often." She explained. Her relationship with her brothers was relatively cut and dry compared to her parents. Sure, she didn't exactly like Joseph but he could have changed. She doubted it. Like her father, Joseph was stuck in his ways.

Mackenzie hummed as she took in the information. She knew she was lucky her family didn't have any sort of falling out when they could have. There were a few times they were close. "You see him?" Mackenzie asked.

"Sometimes." Avery scratched at her head, looking at the swirls in the marble countertops. "Maybe once a year he'll visit me for a weekend. Usually during Winter Break." A smile broke onto her face. "He'll take me to a horrendously overpriced place for dinner and then we'll hate it so we'll get Wendy's frosties and dip our fries in them."

Mackenzie smiled at the way Avery talked about her brother. She was fond of him, in her own way. "That's nice." Jensen would do something similar with her. Instead of Wendy's, they'd go to a diner and get a piece of pie. She'd get a slice of apple and he'd get coconut cream.

A commotion started which made Avery turn. It was coming from the front door. Her eyes went blank. Jared and Genevieve just walked in. She didn't expect them to be there. But then again, Avery wasn't sure how much Jensen told his parents. She immediately looked away, not wanting Jared to see her.

"Not a big Jared fan?" Mackenzie whispered. Avery shook her head. "Me neither." She watched the couple get surrounded with 'hi's and 'how are you's.

"You must be Jensen's girlfriend!" An older lady pointed out. Avery could see the skeptical look in her eyes. "Bless his heart. You look so real."

Avery wasn't sure if she should laugh. This must be Auntie Mary. She had inadvertently affirmed her gender while also complimenting her. It was almost as if passing was the point. Well, for Avery. She felt mostly offended for Jensen.

"Auntie Mary, don't you want to ask momma about her sweet potatoes? I think she'll finally give you the recipe this year." Mackenzie tried to get Mary to go away.

Mary frowned and shook her head. "Donna ain't giving that up." She turned to Avery again and looked her up and down. It seemed like she couldn't find what she was searching for. "Now I don't like being the town gossip," Avery doubted that. "But me and the girls have been wondering, do you still have a—"

"Yes." Avery answered.

"Dinner's ready!" Donna called right on time.

Avery smiled at Mary while Mackenzie laughed behind her. Avery grabbed a plate and utensils and then helped herself to each tray of food. Turkey, sweet potato mash with marshmallows, roasted potatoes, and a splash of gravy. There were a few tables set up so she sat at the end of the second one. Feeling like she needed one, Avery poured a glass of red wine for herself.

"You handled Auntie Mary well." Jensen whispered in her ear as he sat next to her. His plate looked the same, except he had a healthy helping of green bean casserole. Avery hated green beans.

Avery took a sip from her glass and sighed. "Can we still go during dessert?" The idea of eating pie under the stars on the Impala's hood sounded amazing.

"Yeah, we can." Jensen smiled softly.

"How'd seeing your friends go?" Avery didn't want to bring up Jared but Jensen was bound to see him eventually.

Jensen shrugged as he snuck a bite of turkey. Usually, his mom or dad would say grace before they could dig in but he didn't care. "Jason's the same as usual. Just having a good time. Cons are the most excitement he gets." He chuckled softly.

"Jason Manns?" Avery tilted her head.

"Yep." Jensen hummed. He knew fans knew Jason but they'd likely never be able to pick him out in a crowd.

Avery mumbled in thought, "He was the first person to introduce me to your singing."

"He was?" Jensen asked, glancing at Jason who was in the middle of grabbing some food. He had been friends with him for years. Longer than Jared.

"Yeah, y'know, his covers with friends album." Avery explained with a glint of excitement in her eyes. "Really want your peaches wanna shake your tree." She half-sung.

"Or would it be considered eggplant?" Jared chimed in, taking his seat next to Avery.

Her face went blank whereas Jensen narrowed his eyes at the man. "Let's just all get along, huh?" Gen cut in as she sat next to Jared.

"Maybe control your husband then, Gen." Jensen hissed. He wouldn't have minded his parents inviting Jared if they made a rule that he couldn't be an asshole. Though, knowing him, he'd find a way.

Avery pursed her lips, feeling the uneasiness overtake her again. Fuck saying grace, she needed something in her stomach or else she felt she would throw up. It seemed the people around her didn't care much that she started eating anyway. Her brain needed something to keep her busy besides thinking about the behemoth of a man who sat next to her.

With a hand on her thigh, Jensen caught her attention. "You alright?"

Avery glanced at Jared and then back at him. "I will be." She could get through a night with Jared's backhanded comments. She'd probably laugh about how awful they were the next day.

Jensen forked a green bean and brought it to his mouth. Jared laughed, likely thinking of another horrendous joke. Something about the shape and the fact that it was submerged in a white substance.

The rest of dinner mainly consisted of Avery and Jensen talking about whatever, trying their best to ignore Jared next to them who would occasionally snicker at things not intended to be funny. Avery wondered what it was like for Gen to be married to a child while having three actual children. Sure, Avery could be childish sometimes but she knew how to read a room. An attribute it seemed Jared was missing.

There was a bit of gossip at the other end of the room but Avery didn't listen too in-depth of what it was about. She did see a few stares in her direction.

However she did catch, "I can't believe Jensen's dating a transvestite."

Avery suppressed a dry laugh at that. Of course an older person would call her such an outdated slur. She stood up from the table and washed her plate, soon joined by Jensen. "I'm sorry." He whispered after a while.

"For what? None of this is your fault." Avery smiled. It wasn't.

"But I invited you." Jensen felt an immense amount of guilt all the sudden. He wanted to protect Avery from people like the ones in his family.

Avery shook her head and took Jensen's hand. "I agreed to go." She pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Time to go?" Donna made her way into the kitchen. Jensen and Avery nodded. "I had a feeling." She frowned as she opened the fridge and took out a Tupperware with two perfectly sliced pieces of sweet potato pie and a few plastic forks inside. She was prepared. "I'm sorry about tonight."

Avery took the container and hugged Donna. "You're okay, Ms. Ackles. Maybe next time, me and Jensen'll do Thanksgiving and then you'll be able to meet my family." She said softly. She had a feeling Donna would love Elena, Mercer, and Jay. Jay might take some getting used to but Avery knew it'd work out in the end.

Donna's eyes lit up. She looked at Jensen who looked just as surprised as she was. He hadn't thought about hosting Thanksgiving in a while or with Avery. But she was an incredible cook. He wondered what her version of Thanksgiving would look like.

"Bye, Ms. Ackles." Avery waved.

Donna nodded before she hugged Jensen goodbye. "She's a keeper." She whispered so only he could hear.

"I know, momma." Jensen smiled. He was glad his parents could see it too. "Bye."

Avery and Jensen left for the Impala. They drove for a little while until Jensen pulled onto a dirt road that led to a park. It was night so the stars were shining brightly and there were fireflies still around even though it was in the middle of fall. Jensen parked in the middle of the clearing and cut the engine. He pushed himself onto the hood of the Impala and watched Avery do the same, setting the Tupperware in between them before she looked up at the stars.

"Huh. Pisces is visible tonight." Avery pointed out, taking the lid off the Tupperware.

Jensen looked up at the night sky with furrowed eyebrows. "Where?" To be fair, he wasn't into constellations much anyway. Let alone astrology.

"There." Avery took Jensen's hand and mapped out the constellation among the stars. "It's like the Big Dipper, just with a long tail." She hummed as she took a bite from the pie. She usually ate pumpkin pie in the fall but sweet potato was good too.

Jensen could finally see it and nodded. "Yeah." He took a bite from his piece and watched Avery. She was far calmer than earlier. As if she was in her natural habitat.

In many ways, night was Avery's natural habitat. It was when she got a lot of homework done, food just tasted better, and she was in a better mood. She had made jokes that it was because she was secretly a devotee of Selene. Jensen had to look that up in order to realize Selene was the goddess of the moon. Supernatural wasn't into Greek Mythology as much as it liked using urban folktales.

"We should do this more often." Avery hummed softly as she glanced up at the moon.

Jensen smiled. "Drive to the middle of nowhere and eat pie?"

"Yeah." Avery had a wistful look in her eyes that Jensen couldn't argue with.

"Alright."

The scene reminded Avery of her brother but it had a different weight to it. A different kind of love that she hadn't felt before. Not to this magnitude.

A streak of light went across the night sky. "A meteor." Avery pointed out, glancing at Jensen who was staring at her. Not the sky.

"If I wished to kiss you, do you think it'll come true?" Jensen asked with a sly smile.

Avery laughed. A little too hard that she almost fell off the Impala's hood. "I hate that."

Jensen kept her from falling with an arm around her waist. "You love me." He whispered into her ear.

"I do." Avery chuckled, coming down from her laughing fit. "But I hate that you said that."

Jensen rolled his eyes and kissed her. Avery didn't pull away. The metal below them was uncomfortable but neither of them moved to leave the hood. Avery brushed a hand through Jensen's hair to set it on the back of his neck. Jensen kept his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. His lips tasted like the pie they just had. She wanted more. So they kissed until they had to break for breath.

When Jensen opened his eyes again, Avery's eyes stared back at him with the twinkles of stars reflected in them. The normal blue shade of them looked like the night sky. The shade of space Jensen imagined it'd be.

They had a million kisses at that point yet Avery knew she'd think about that one for the rest of her life.

----

taglist: @nancymcl

taglist open here !!!

8 notes · View notes

galacticwildfire · 1 year

Text

Memories | Bucky Barnes

Twelve

Bucky Barnes x oc

Word count 4.7k

Tags: winter soldier time, language, violence, blood, bucky remembering

A/N; it's time for THAT scene from tws - quick disclaimer I am currently writing a few more chapters in the fourties’ that will take place before this and will update the masterlist appropriately

We return to the hospital in hoodies to get the drive that was stashed in the vending machine and find it missing and Natasha standing being us.

Steve, too wound up to act like himself pushes Natasha into a nearby room, demanding "Where is it?"

"Safe."

"Do better."

"Let her go," I order but Steve doesn't let up. "I said let her go."

He reluctantly lets her go with a shove and Natasha looks at me "Fury gave it to you, why?"

"What's on it?' Steve asks but her guess is as good as ours.

"I don't know."

Something in Steve's voice makes me flinch "Stop lying."

"I only act like I know everything Rogers," she says, as taken aback by him as I am.

"Steve!" I snap. "Pull it together."

He backs off and Natasha eases up, but still, something isn't right and it's then she blurts out "I know who killed Fury." I don't dare speak, I can't, all I can do is reach for the tags around my neck as she tells us "Most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists, the one's who do call him the Winter Soldier."

I turn my head away and Steve looks at me "The Winter Soldier project- it still exists?"

"No!" I grit out and they both stare at me with the same caution they'd give a wild animal. "The Winter Soldier project died when I did."

Natasha blinks at me, blindsided. "You know about the Winter Soldier?"

I begin hyperventilating, tears in my eyes as I stumble across the room until I hit the wall, pressing my forehead against its cold surface and slap a hand over my mouth to muffle the tearful gasps that try to escape me.

"Ada," Steve says cautiously. "What do you know?"

I can't bear to look at him, I can't. I told him James survived the fall and that he was being tortured by Hydra, I told him about the Winter Soldier project, but never what James became.

Slowly I turn back to look at them, each of them staring at me with mixed expressions of caution as I tell them "I was its first subject. It was 1941, they injected me with the serum and tried to condition my mind, not like the red room did no, this was different." I can still hear those fucking words in my head. "Brainwashing, making and unmaking you as a person. They didn't succeed, not with me, I escaped before they could but-"

"But what?" Steve asks, frustrated. "You need to tell us what's made you like this since Fury was shot."

I look at him, numb. "After Erksine died Zola tried to recreate the serum, any survivors of the experimentation would have been candidates for the program. But there was only one." I swallow hard, trembling, but Steve still hasn't connected the dots. "The Winter Soldier was born and died at the end of the war."

But Natasha shakes her head. "He is credited with two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years. Five years ago I was escorting a nuclear engineer out of Iran, somebody shot out my tires near Odessa, we lost control and went straight over a cliff." I grip his dog tags with a closed fist as she tells us "I pulled us out but the Winter Soldier was there. I was covering my engineer so he shot him right through me." She lifts up her shirt to show us the scar. "Soviet slug, no rifling." It's then she looks at me. "You saw him the night Fury was shot, described him right down to the metal arm."

Steve's head whips around to me and starts accusing me "You said you didn't see him!"

"I lied!" I spit out. "I lied because I thought I was going fucking crazy! Because the Winter Soldier died in 1945!"

Natasha interrupts, immediately sensing there's a good reason for me lying and holds up the hardrive to distract Steve. "She's right, he's a ghost story. I've tried going after him but it's a dead end."

Steve looks at me in a way he hasn't before, like a possible enemy, and I realise just how deeply Fury's own mistrust has dug itself in him. "Then let's find out what the ghost wants."

He walks out and Nat takes my arm, murmuring "Are you alright?"

I shake my head and there's some sort of realisation in her eye. She knows what I was doing in 1945 when I ended up in that chamber, she knows who I was looking for. Even if Steve hasn't put it together yet.

"He can't know," I whisper and watch her eyes fall on my dog tags. "He's already losing it, he can't know. He'll freeze, he won't be able to fight him if he knows."

She gives me a stiff nod. "Alright. But Ada... what you saw was real. He's real. He's alive."

And that right there, is the very fact that makes me want to die.

He's alive.

All this time he's been alive.

He's been the Winter Soldier.

All because I couldn't bring myself to kill him.

We use a computer in the mall, hiding in plain sight, to uncover where the file on the drive originates from. New Jersey, Wheaton. Where Steve and I undertook our training, and he was injected with the serum. After making it out of the mall thanks to Natasha's pda we're in a stolen car heading straight to New Jersey.

I sit in the back, biting my nails and staring straight out the window, trying my damn hardest not to let myself remember back to the night I found him as they make small talk.

"Where did you learn how to steal a car.?

"Nazi Germany."

"Mmm."

"And we're borrowing so take your feet off the dash."

"Alright I have a question for you, one which you do not have to answer, I feel like if you don't answer it though you're kind of answering it-"

"What?"

"Was that your first kiss since 1945?"

It was. Just like it was my first one with Sam. But unlike me he doesn't have any guilt attached to it. My husband is alive. My husband is the Winter Soldier and killed Nick Fury.

My husband is Hydra's Fist.

Whilst I was oblivious to it.

And still I'm praying this is some demented nightmare, because I can't live with the thought of this happening because I failed him. Praying that somehow it is someone else, some other poor fucker with a metal arm. I have to pray because I can't face the truth.

After listening to them arguing Natasha asks "No one special?"

Steve scoffs "Believe it or not it's kind of hard to find someone with shared life experience."

Nat looks back at me, trying to keep it somewhat cheerful whilst I'm having the worst breakdown of my life. "What about Ada?"

"No," we both immediately counter and she whistles.

"That bad huh?"

"We'd probably kill each other," Steve answers for me. "She's more like the murderous little sister I never wish I had."

We were forced together from the start, but it was Bucky that brought us together and made us like a family. Him, Steve, Peggy and I.

Now Steve and I are all that's truly left.

Or so I thought.

We arrive at the camp and for a moment I'm stuck in my seat at the sight of the worn down razor fence and buildings I never thought I'd ever see again.

Slowly I get out, walking behind Steve and Natasha, almost able to hear the sounds of the base, the gunfire from practice, the soldiers laughing, the music they'd sometimes play for us.

It's almost like a special type of torture coming back here.

"It's a dead end, no heat signatures, no signal," Natasha says as she checks out the base. "Whoever wrote the file must have used a router to throw people off."

"But why would it land here of all places?" I ask her, knowing something isn't right. "Keep looking." It's then I spot a building that shouldn't be there. "Steve, they forbid munitions storage within five hundred feet of the base right?"

"Yeah," he answers and sees what I'm looking at. "That building's in the wrong place."

Steve breaks the lock and we head inside, turning on the lights to find a Shield office, the logo right on the back wall.

"This is shield."

"Maybe where it started," Steve says and I nod along. Peggy had something to do with this, she would have had to.

Sure enough as we venture deeper we find a wall with Peggy's photograph beside Howard's.

"There's Tony's father," Natasha says and I look upon my old friend and wonder if he regretted it. If he regretted helping me get back to Europe to search for James. I know it would have ate at him for years.

"He was my friend," I say sadly. "A true friend. He was always there when I needed him, even if it meant flying me across the world searching for a ghost."

Sometimes I wonder what would have came of me if I never went looking for him. If I would have stayed and helped Peggy found Shield, if somehow I would have ended up with Howard. He loved me, I know that. I wish he didn't die thinking I died over there.

"Who's the girl?" she asks and I look at Steve, knowing she's the only girl he's ever loved.

"Another good friend," I answer for him as he keeps walking and finds a secret elevator behind some filing cabinets. Natasha cracks the code and we enter, heading below ground.

We find ourselves in an old computer room and Natasha says "This can't be the data point, this technology is ancient."

"You'd be surprised with what we could do with it," I tell her. "No doubt Howard's the person who put all this together."

But then we find a modern data reader connected and Natasha plugs in the hard drive. The room lights up and everything begins working again in a way that is too eerie for my liking.

Nat initiates the system and my blood boils at the face that appears on the screen, at the voice.

"Rogers, Steven, born 1918." The camera moves to Nat. "Romanoff, Natalia Alianovna, born 1984." And finally it finds me. "Alekseeva Morgan Barnes, Adelina Viktoria, born 1922."

I stare at the screen as Nat says "It must be some type of recording."

"I am not a recording," Zola says. "I may not be the man I was when the captain took me prisoner in 1945 and the Red Widow tortured me to near death, but I am."

Steve stares in bewilderment as Nat asks "You know this thing?"

"This fucker tried to destroy me," I answer, pulling my pistol out. "He turned me into what I am. He-"

He did this to James. He created the Winter Soldier.

"Arnim Zola was a german scientist who worked for the Red Skull," Steve explains. "He's been dead for years."

"First correction I am Swiss-"

I fire a bullet into one of the computers. "Shut up."

"Second look around you, I have never been more alive. In 1972 I received a terminal diagnosis, science could not save my body, my mind however, that was worth saving on 200 000 feet of data tanks. You are standing in my brain."

Natasha tells us "In Operation Paperclip after world war two, Shield recruited german scientists with strategic value."

"They thought I could help their cause. I also helped my own."

"Hydra died with the Red Skull," Steve says, but then he seems the look on my face. "Ada?"

"She knows the truth," Zola reveals. "She knows all of it. Cut off one head, two shall take it's place."

I stare numbly at the screen as Steve says "Prove it."

We're shown a Hydra propaganda video, shot in the way the Nazi propaganda was, but it was clearly made after the war. Made for us.

"The new Hydra grew a beautiful parasite inside Shield. For seventy years Hydra has been secretly feeding crisis, reaping war, and when history did not co-operate." For a split second in the video I see it, I see his arm. The metal arm with the red star. "History was changed."

"That's impossible," Nat denies. "Shield would have stopped you."

They show a newspaper clipping of Howards death. "Accidents happen." And I realise it was no accident. Howard would never have let what we fought flourish. So they killed him. "Hydra created a world so chaotic, that humanity is finally ready to sacrifice its freedom to gain its security. Once the purification process is complete, Hydra's new world order will rise."

It seems there is no getting out, no walking away from this. My work is not done. My ledger is not complete. Not until Hydra is gone for good.

"We won captain. Your deaths will amount to the same as your life, a zero-" just as Steve raises his fist I fire five shots straight into the screen, but the voice does not stop and his face merely appears on the others.

"The Winter Soldier," I say, staring down Zola. "What did you do to him?"

Zola laughs and tells me "You know exactly what I've done. Too bad you will be too dead to see it yourself."

The doors close on us and Natasha's transmitter starts going off. "We've got a bogey, short range ballistic, thirty seconds tops."

"Who fired it?"

"Shield."

"You mean Hydra," I mutter running for the grate on the floor, Steve helping me tear it up and we jump down into it just seconds before the missile hits.

As the building collapses down on us I'm back in 1945, my mother shoving me inside the cyro chamber to preserve Hydra's weapon, whilst it all went dark.

My eyes open to fire and smoke and Steve pulling me out of the rubble, as much as I wish it would just swallow me up.

"Come on," he says, pulling me to my feet and he lifts Nat up. "We need to go."

Just as we make our departure we see the Shield drones flying overhead and the Strike team closing in. It's clear now they don't want to take us in.

They want us dead.

The next day we arrive back in Washington, and go to the only person left we trust.

The moment he opens the door his mouth falls open at the sight of us, Natasha and I bloodied and covered in ash, Steve somehow coming out better than us.

"Hey Sam," I say, still coughing up ash.

"Ada?" he asks, too bewildered to even begin to make sense of what's in front of him. "What the hell happened?"

"Everyone we know is trying to kill us," I say and look at Steve. "You're the only person we trust not to."

He opens the door for us to limp in, Steve sitting Natasha down as Sam wraps an arm around my waist to help me in, immediately checking me over for injuries.

"Are you hurt?"

"I don't know," I answer truthfully. "But I'm not dead unfortunately so there's that."

"Unfortunately?" he repeats back at me and sees the blood that still stains me from the elevator and shakes his head slowly "Who's trying to kill you?"

"Shield," I cough, ash in my lungs. "Turns out they had the bright fucking idea to recruit the scientist we spent the entire war trying to kill, and surprise, he made Shield a cover for Hydra."

"What?' he exclaims as I help myself to a glass of water. "Shields trying to kill you?"

I drown the cup and simply say "I think I'm going to need something stronger to drink."

Natasha and I take turns in the shower and clean up, she wears civilian clothes whilst I still have my catsuit that I'd covered up with a hoodie until now. I overhear her and Steve in the bedroom, Natasha telling him it seems she just traded in the KBG for Hydra.

Meanwhile I went straight back.

"You need to take it easy," Sam says. "From what Steve told me I don't know how you guys are still alive."

"I'll take it easy when I'm dead," I say, my Russian accent slipping through. "And when Pierce and the rest of them are dead too."

He's concerned as he looks me over. "That's a change in tone from two days ago, not wanting to be what they made you to be."

"Hydra made me what I am," I tell Sam. "The Red Room trained me then gave me over to them for their experiments. I was their prisoner, their blade as they liked to put it. I woke up a year ago thinking Hydra was gone, the war won. But it's like a fucking nightmare that just won't end."

"Hey," he says moving forward and putting his hands on my shoulders. "You're safe here alright, and if there's anyone who can stop them it's you three."

"Except Hydra has a weapon of their own now to replace me," I tell him, my voice shaking. "I killed my own sister because Hydra brainwashed her and turned her into a weapon." His face changes, realising just what I've done, what they've taken from me. "Now they've done the same to him, made him the Winter Soldier." The words are bitter on my tongue, yet a newfound certainty comes with them as I look up at Sam. "I had the chance to kill him and I was too weak to do it. I'm not making that mistake again." Yet the words don't feel right, but I know I have to do it. "I'm the only person who can. It's my mess to clean up."

He lowers his voice, asking me one question "It's him, isn't it?"

The look in my eyes answers the question. Steve and Natasha walk out and Sam's voice is stiff "I made you guys breakfast, if you guys eat that sort of thing."

We sit around the kitchen, trying to figure out exactly who launched the missile and where to go next.

"It was Pierce," I say with no doubts. "He has the authority and from having one conversion with him he's just as fucked up as all the other fascists I've killed."

"Who happens to be sitting on top of the most secure building in the world."

"He's not working alone, Zola's algorithm was built into the Lumerian Star."

"So was Jasper Sitwell."

"So the real question is how do the two most wanted people kidnap a shield officer in broad daylight."

"The answer is, you don't," Sam answers and I cut him off.

"Send me in," I say, knowing who I'll be facing. "Killing politicians and agents is what I was made to do. Send me in and I'll get the job done."

"And get yourself killed in the process," Sam says, looking at me like a stranger. "What happened to wanting out, to wanting no more bloodshed."

"They started it, I'm going to finish it," I say, and make myself promise. "I'm going to finish all of it." I watch as he puts his file on the table for Steve and Natasha and shake my head at him. "No, you aren't getting involved in this."

"It's too late for that," he tells me and Steve backs me up.

"We can't ask you to do this Sam. You got out for a good reason."

"Dude, Captain America needs my help," he says, being too good of a soldier to deny a call for help. "There's no better reason to get back in."

After breaking into the Fort to get Sam the Falcon suit he used on his special missions we turn out attention to the Shield officer Steve wants to interrogate. Sitwell.

Sam makes the call to him, ordering him to go around the corner into the car whilst I sit pretty in a nearby building, the laser of my sniper pointing right on his tie.

Sure enough minutes later we have him at the top of the building, Steve pushing him as he orders "Tell me about Zola's algorithm."

"Never heard of it."

With a calculated hand I pull Steve back and take his place, the officer staring at me with wide eyes as I ask "Do you know who I am?"

He nods, from the look in his eyes knowing my true reputation as the Red Widow. "Yes- yes agent Morgan."

I have him backed against the edge of the roof top, one push is all it would take.

"Do you know I tortured Zola so severely when we captured him he was hospitalised for six months?" I ask and he nods again, terrified. "So tell me what we want to know."

"Or what?" he asks with more courage than I anticipated. "You'll throw me off the roof?"

I tilt my head at him and brandish a knife, tossing up between that and his suggestion. "Hmm, I think I will."

With a single kick he plummets down screaming, only for Sam to fly him back up, but the damage has been done as he's dropped in front of us. I only need to take one step forward before he starts talking.

"Zola's algorithm is a program for choosing Insights targets!"

"Which target?" Steve asks.

"You!" he yells out and we still. "The Tv anchor in Cairo, the undersecretary of defence, a highschool validictorian in Iowa city, Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange... anyone who's a threat to Hydra. Now or in the future."

"In the future?' Steve questions. "How could it know?"

Sitwell starts laughing. "How could it not? The twenty first century is a digital book. Zola taught Hydra how to read it." It's moments like these I wish I was there, wish Howard was still here so I could scream at him and Peggy for letting this happen. For letting everything we did be for nothing. "Your bank records, medical histories, voting patterns, emails, phone calls, your damn SAT scores. Zola's algorithm evaluates peoples past to predict their future."

I step forward and ask him "Tell me, how does my past predict what I'm going to do to you in the next minute?" He turns pale and Steve has to stop me.

"And what then?"

It's then Sitwell realises "Oh my god, Pierce is going to kill me."

"Not before I do," I spit, grabbing him and throwing him to the ground as Steve stands over me. "What happens then!"

"Then the Insight helecarriers scratch people off the list... a few million at the time."

"A program for a calculated genocide," I breathe. "Anyone who would resist." I could almost laugh. "Back in my day they had gulags for that. Not even getting your hands bloody while you sit protected by security." I lift him back up and bring him back over to the edge of the rooftop.

"Wait," Natasha says. "Bring him with us, we'll need him to get past the security checks."

I sit in the front seat with Sam. Natasha, Steve and Sitwell are in the back.

"Hydra doesn't like leaks."

"Shut the fuck up before I shoot you," I mutter, sick of listening to him already.

"Insights launching in sixteen hours," Nat says. "Don't you think we're cutting it a little close here?"

"I know, we'll use him to bypass the DNA scans and access the helecarriers directly."

But it's then I catch something in the rearview, something dark and then a flash of silver. The car swerves as a metal fist comes through the glass and pulls Sitwell out of the car, breaking the glass and throwing him into traffic.

My heart stops completely as Sam is yelling out and despite the terror, despite the fear, a smile spreads across my face.

He's here.

He fires through the roof of the car and Sam breaks hard, throwing him off the roof onto the street in front of us. I watch breathless as he lands, metal fingers leaving scratches in the concrete and Natasha looks at me with one warning "Don't, it's not him-" and the next thing I know they're all screaming at me as I throw open the car door and step in front of the car.

He stands there, goggles and a mask hiding his face from me, long hair past his chin leaving him visibly unrecognisable. But I'd know him even if I was blind, even after seventy years.

I open my arms out wide, an invitation, knowing who Hydra's number one enemy is. It isn't Steve or Natasha.

It's me.

"Come on!" I yell out at him. This is my mess to suffer, not theirs. "You know who I am, if you want to fucking kill me here I am!" I'm smiling like a mad woman but I know they'll understand as I tell him "To hell and back remember?"

It's then a Strikeforce vehicle rams into the car and he charges forward, slamming me into the hood of the moving car by my throat, metal fist wrapped tight around it and I reach up, tearing off the goggles so I can look him in the eye as I bring my knee up hard between his legs and he falls forward, head slamming into the windscreen as I throw him back onto the top of the car and shoot wires out of my bracers, the cord wrapping tight around his neck as I pull hard screaming out as he reaches back to rip the steering wheel clean off and the car's thrown clean off the bridge, Steve covers Natasha and Sam as they fall but James and I are thrown into the air flying.

I slam into the windscreen of a car down the road, lying in a heap of bloody glass as I look for them, finding them safe down the road, the shield having covered them. But it's not them he comes for. It's me.

He comes for me with a rocket launcher in hand.

Shit.

I scurry for cover, the car exploding as the rocket hits and I throw myself over bridge hit the ground running. I don't even think about looking for cover, I run like hell to get him as far away from the others as possible. They can deal with Rumlow and his soldiers, but he's all mine.

I duck down behind a car, in the review mirror catching him on the bridge above looking for me with a machine gun in hand.

"Come on baby," I breathe, chest heaving as I pull my pistols out. "Come find me."

I jump up to fire at him, provoking him into a chase which he accepts as he jumps down, landing hard on his feet and marching towards me. A smirk spreads across my face as he sets his sights on me. We're trained for efficiency, but no amount of brain washing can rid of the human sense that is curiosity. It's enough he won't blow my head off just yet.

He stands there holding his weapon, sizing me up as I smirk at him "You remember me? Don't you?" His head tilts towards me, listening. "I know what they've done to you, but I know you're still there." Even in my sisters eyes at the very last moment I saw it as she begged me to do it. "What's my name?"

He raises his rifle, pointing it at me, but doesn't fire.

"Adelina," I say, daring to step forward towards him. "Do you know your name?" He's utterly silent and I lower my pistol, trying to show him I'm not a threat. "James Barnes. Your name is James Bucky Barnes."

I let out a breath of relief as he slowly begins to lower his rifle and I throw my pistol to the ground. Primal instinct is stronger than the mind, and if I'm not a threat then I have a chance. He hasn't kill me yet, if he were truly gone I'd be dead.

It's then he repeats back at me "Ada?"

I nod, tears in my eyes and breathe "You know me." Each step I take towards him could easily be one step closer to my death but I don't care. Not when he's right here. "James-"

But it's then we're surrounded by Hydra, half a dozen trucks and dozens more soldiers with semi automatic weapons, aimed at us both. Standing in front of him right now, I know in my heart if I'm about to die it will be worth it having touched him one last time. He watches me like a predator watching its prey as I reach out to pull away the mask and I can't help the soft gasp that leaves my lips at the sight of him after all this time. And making my peace with death I bring my hand to his cheek, running my thumb over the stubble and watching as his eyes close at my touch.

It's then I hear the order "Take Rogers, Romanoff and Wilson to Shield headquarters. The Red Widow is coming with us."

"Remember me," I whisper and I don't fight as I'm restrained and handcuffed, eyes only on him as I'm thrown into the back of one of the trucks whilst he stands there frozen in time.

They might be dragging me to hell, but I'll be going there with him.

Taglist

rachel-stone-12162001 multifanworld emromanoff lovestruckgavemefeels azriel-the-shadowsinger buchananss killtherandomness hellodeanwinchestersass angelxbarnes that-lonely-fangirl sebstanfangirl @fangrlbaby @lovely-geek @namelesssav @ranbowrider @ouuwitchywoman @jimmysjams @putbloghere @hellodeanwinchestersass @brunosemeraldstar @milea @sinnerwinner03 @ohraggi @sebs-oxygen @sourvibez @jubsl8os @plantchild15 @whoreforeternals @depressedmesstration @buckys2thicc @qlara @shaggzthatsnottheworm @findmemyaladdin @wonderlandcloudsmoonlight @pizza-connoisseur-things

things @xxforeverinadayxx @ocfairygodmother @whovianthatissherlocked @summerdaughter @nat-barnes @poge-life @silly-multi-fandom-fan-girl @sunny-byeol @captainwinterfalcon @redemption-kylo @just-my-imagines @midnightvitality @winterrwidow-2 @wildwollff @danielle-leah1997 @notsosecretspy @veralyonn @ranbowrider @ripperofmonterey @buckyys-doll @hellodeanwinchestersass @ravenclawavengerx @peterbparkerth @whateverittakestoavenge @reelovesbuckybarnes

#bucky barnes #bucky #barnes #sergeant james barnes #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #winter soldier #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes x oc #sebastian stan #thunderbolts #bucky barnes x reader

17 notes · View notes

breesays · 1 year

Text

Des-cap 2022

Is this blog also a kind of baby book? Yes. This is record-keeping. I have a very full-to-the-brim physical baby book, but I frequently refer back to digital musings for milestones and such.

SO, tonight he is happy-raging because he can write an upper case "R". A marvel to me that he even knows the difference between upper case and lower case because I didn't teach one or the other first and this fascination with writing letters and numbers came about after picking up a dry erase lettering book at a mom's club toy and clothing swap.

We spent Christmas with The Dodges and I think maybe he finally knows Christmas is a day (a season?) a spirit, and not just a place in Mountain View. My brother in law asked me several times what I wanted to DO while I was there, and while I appreciated it, all my needs were being met. Someone else was deciding what to feed Des. Someone else was reading him the same book 6 times. Someone else was fielding his barrage of questions. That's it. That's all I wanted - a bit of the mom weight off so I could breathe. It was wonderful. We slept hard, ate hotel breakfast, approached festive inflatables with curiosity, jumped in massive puddles, had dance parties, painted, colored, told jokes, shared meals and even squeezed in a few christmas crafts. I long for the day that Sarah allows sequins in crafting, which she considers an insidious cousin of glitter.

He's three and a half, we co-sleep. I'm OK with it, I feel like I sleep better with his little body huffing next to me, as opposed to being attuned to yelps and whimpers from a room away. It often means I don't get any extra time to myself after he goes to bed, except to read on my Kindle, but that's OK too. If I keep the same schedule as he does, I can match his energy, his brightness. He works as a barrier, too, since Tim and I are emotionally but not physically separated. I (maybe weirdly) like it a lot when I wake up in the inky blue light and see both of them stretched out on their backs, arms stretched over their heads, sleep noises puffing out of their mouths. I like what we made.

We are not a minimalist household. Sometimes we can't even see Desmond's bedroom floor because it's covered with balloons. It always looks like it was just someone's birthday. He does get screen time - Little P is his favorite YouTuber and Bluey is pretty much a free for all on weekends and vacations. I like that what he's watching inspires him, though - doesn't just trap him into a zombie consuming state. He wants to replicate what he sees, what he hears, what they play. I've found both Bluey and Daniel Tiger helpful in tough situations, or when I want to illustrate something. "Tactical wee" is a solid from Bingo.

We are approaching some big changes when Tim moves out, but I don't think it has to be traumatic. I like that in stories and cartoons and ~overall~ more than a traditional nuclear family is presented. I didn't know how much it meant to see yourself in media until I realized I couldn't find myself for DECADES. And we aren't warring, like my parents were when they split. Sometimes its hard for me to even understand WHY we are separating, if most of the parts are still moving, but I also realize that I can't assume that my experience is the same as Tim's. I respect that he needs space to figure that out.

We went to my sister's without Tim this year, but it was apparent upon our return that Desmond had missed Dada time. Even when he is playing with me he wants to "make presents" for Dada, to show Dada something. He wants to badly to capture his attention. To earn it? IDK. He can write both "mama" and "dada" and damn if that isn't impressive.

He likes to have a limb or two touching one of us when he sleeps. He asks me what I'm reading as he dozes off. One night I told him the book I was reading and he said, "I thought you were reading It Girl? How did he remember a vague title of something I was reading a month previous?

I recently read a book about someone who was addicted to motherhood and being pregnant and my mind was almost totally blown. I'm glad I experienced it but I don't want to do it again. I want to pour all my work, my love, my answers into Des. I hope he never asks for a sibling, because with his impeccable manners, he often eventually gets what he asks for.

I like that he quickly adopts our words: Actually, consideration, gamut.

I love to watch him dance. From his mambo moves in his preschool’s Winter Show to his special invented “99 Red Balloons” dance, it’s incredible to witness How a little person without self consciousness chooses to occupy the space, to express their joy. It kind of makes you wonder about that line, “dance like no one is watching” -- when did you realize anyone was watching?

#breesays #parenthood #parenting #2022 #toddlers

2 notes · View notes

whimsicalworldofme · 2 years

Text

Saving Grace: Chapter Nine

In the weeks that follow the Battle of New York, life shifts for Grace & Steve, though not necessarily the exact way either one of them would like.

The aftermath of the Battle of New York, as the alien invasion was soon being called, didn’t fade quickly. Tony put together a Stark Industries team in conjunction with S.H.I.E.L.D to clean up the alien bodies and more importantly, get their weapons under containment so no one could just grab them off the street. Tony’s behavior worried her as he threw himself into overseeing the cleanup and also more tinkering with his Iron Man suits. Pepper confided in her that Tony wasn’t sleeping well and that he actively avoided going to sleep. It didn’t shock Grace, having seen the video footage of her father hauling a literal nuclear bomb into a wormhole in space, then free-falling back to earth. She had had no idea what he’d endured until she saw it on tv, because he didn’t want to talk about it with her. He diverted every time she tried.

Surprisingly, Steve seemed to be coping fairly well. When asked, he answered that he’d seen similar tech from Hydra in the war, and while the aliens were a new twist, it wasn’t that shocking for him. The one thing that did take him aback was the public recognition that came with all the internet videos and news recaps. He couldn’t go for runs in the morning, couldn’t go down to the bodega, couldn’t go to the boxing gym, without gaggles of people wanting to stop and thank him or talk. A group of women had figured out where he lived and camped out on the sidewalk, hoping to catch him.

“Got a new one today,” he announced as he brought home a bag of groceries from the bodega. Grace glanced up from her laptop, sitting comfortably on the couch. Steve huffed, pulling stuff out of the cotton tote and slapping each item on the counter. “A woman walked straight up to me and asked me to put a baby in her.” He shuddered. “How did they even find out where I live?”

“They followed you,” Grace shrugged and kept working on the email she was composing to a realtor to sell her home near Stanford. “How did you deal with it before?” She glanced up at him and he gave her a blank stare. “The fame? You were a world-famous hero during the war. I’m sure there were plenty of women throwing themselves at you then.”

“It was different,” Steve insisted as he put away the groceries. “Standards of propriety were different. And on top of that, I wasn’t sitting still, I was in Europe running missions constantly. Women couldn’t follow me around doing that. And,” he paused, leaning on the kitchen island, “it was pretty well known that I was in love with Peggy, so that deterred a lot.”

Grace tipped her head from side to side as she considered it.

“Well…” she braced herself for what she was about to say, knowing it may not go over well. “Maybe it’s time for you to start dating. Not just to deter attention, but because it might actually be time.”

“Dating?” He scoffed, tipping his head to one side.

“Yeah,” she nodded, suddenly unable to look him in the eye, so her gaze went back to her computer screen. “You’ve been back in the world for a year. You’re pretty well adjusted and settled. I think it’s time for you to start venturing into more of the social aspect of life, instead of just focusing internally and on work.”

He put the last of the groceries away in the pantry without answering and Grace wondered what must be going through his mind.

It’s a big step. And I’m sure it’s an intimidating one to consider. I mean, he hasn’t really dated ever, has he? There was Peggy, but he went into the ice before they could even go on a proper date.

Curious, she glanced his way and saw him tuck the reusable grocery bag away before coming into the living room and dropping to a seat next to her on the couch. He stared straight ahead at the wall for a minute, leaning back in the couch cushions, one arm stretched out along the back in her direction, apparently lost in thought. She went back to her email, letting him have whatever time he needed to process.

“Grace?” He asked, pulling in a deep breath.

“Yeah?” She asked, still typing out the description of her house for the realtor.

“Do you want to go out sometime?”

It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Grace could feel her eyes bugging out as she stared at her computer screen without actually seeing anything for a second as she struggled to give the appropriate answer, the professional answer that she absolutely did not want to give, but knew she had to. She glanced over the top of her screen and saw Steve’s bright blue eyes staring back at her, waiting with bated breath. Slowly closing her laptop, she set it aside on the coffee table and readjusted in her seat, pulling a pillow into her lap and wrapping her arms around it for comfort.

“I’m not an option,” she said as gently as she could. “There’s plenty of women to choose from in the city alone—”

“You mean like Katie, who’s been coming to stake out our apartment daily and who finally introduced herself by telling me that she can put her legs behind her head?”

“Well probably not her, no,” Grace nearly choked. “She really said that to you?”

“Why aren’t you an option?” Steve didn’t answer.

“Because I’m your therapist,” she said.

“We’ve always had a bit of a blurred line about that,” he brushed it off. “And we haven’t actually done therapy for over a month,” he countered. “Grace,” he slid closer to her and she gulped, lowering her chin onto the pillow in her arms, trying to shrink into it. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. Maybe we can go dancing?”

“Steve,” Grace’s heart hurt. Everything in her wanted to scream “yes!” but she couldn’t. “I’m moving.”

She’d been waiting for the right time to tell him and this seemed like it. She watched him pull back, his heartbreak evident in the furrow of his brow and the pitiful frown on his lips.

“My dad needs a change of scenery so we’re all going back to California for a while.” She sighed. “I’m leaving next week.”

Steve turned away from her, hunching over himself, elbows on his knees, clasping his hands in front of him as he studied the ground between his feet. Grace had known for two weeks that she was leaving and wished she had found the courage to tell him before now, but she had struggled to find a way to do so. Truthfully, she didn’t want to leave him, leave the comfortable little domestic life they had built together. But she knew she was dancing too close to crossing the line and Steve’s asking her out only confirmed it.

Coming out of her defensive huddle, she set the pillow behind her and slid to Steve’s side. Slipping her arm along the inside of his, she took his hand, content as he threaded his fingers through hers and gave her a sidelong glance. Grace laid her head on his shoulder and took a deep breath, letting it out in a burdened sigh.

“If you weren’t moving,” Steve said quietly, “and you weren’t my therapist, if we were just friends, would you have said yes?”

“Without hesitation.”

It shocked her, how quickly she replied. Steve let out a laugh, amused but also maybe a smidge bitter, shaking his head.

“Ok, this is what I recommend, as my very final act as your therapist,” she said. “Give it three months of us being apart. Go on dates, I’m talking about at least one a week,” she looked him in the eye to show she meant it, “and actually try to find someone you want to spend time with. But you can’t contact me. No calling or texting.” He began to open his mouth to say something but she cut him off. “No emails or letters either,” she watched him snap his mouth shut and frown. “I think a lot of these feelings are probably coming from proximity and maybe, a bit of codependency. So, if in those three months you find someone you like, that’s great. And you can contact me the first day after month three and tell me all about them.”

Steve gave her a wry smile, as if to say it wouldn’t happen.

“But,” she nudged into him with her shoulder, “if three months goes by, you go on your dates, but you still want to go out with me, you have my number.” She couldn’t help the flush she felt in her cheeks when she saw how he looked at her, like he would consume her given half the chance. “I’m selling my house and living with my dad, which means I won’t have to worry about rent, so I’ll be able to buy a plane ticket the minute you call. Deal?”

“Deal,” Steve agreed.

The entirety of the next week, Grace spent most of her time preparing for the move, packing up all her personal effects. Since the apartment had come furnished, she really only had to worry about her clothes, some books, and her computer. She took a quick trip to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters to turn in some confidential files regarding Steve’s progress and her assessments. The streets were slowly but surely returning to normal, but there were still lots of boarded up windows and taped off areas where cleanup crews were working to remove the larger alien corpses.

I’m glad I won’t have to see that anymore once I’m in California.

Steve was respectful as always and gave her plenty of space as she went through her last day, getting ready to leave, but every now and then she would catch him watching her, looking like he wanted to plead with her not to go. He never did though.

I should be glad about that right? That he respects my decisions? Her stomach knotted. So why do I wish he’d tell me to stay?

She knew why, but wasn’t about to admit it. Before she could even contemplate what to do for dinner, Steve had food delivered: Chinese takeout and apple pie. They sat at their little table, hardly knowing how to talk to one another. It felt more awkward than the first time they’d sat down together a year before, knowing this was the end of how their lives had been. However things turned out in the next three months, their relationship was about to change. And it hurt.

“So, are you going to keep working for Stark Industries out in California?” Steve asked, poking at the remaining pie crust on his plate.

“I think so,” she nodded. “The project I picked is ongoing. And I’m not in a rush to dive back into taking on patients or teaching.”

A small smile tugged on the corner of Steve’s mouth and Grace realized that was his way of asking if she’d be getting into another situation like what they’d shared in the last year. She wished she could tell him that nothing like this had ever happened before, how their situation and the way they’d bonded was unique. But sharing that information would only make it harder for both of them to walk away, so she bit her tongue.

I have an obligation to give him the best chance possible to move on from me, her stomach sank. He deserves to have a normal life and that means the freedom to discover who he wants to spend it with, away from me.

Sleep didn’t come easily that night, though the burning, unwelcome tears did. Grace pulled a pillow over her face, hoping that Steve wouldn’t hear her. Part of her wished he would and come hold her until she fell asleep, that she’d wake up with him one last time. But she knew that if that happened, she wouldn’t want to leave, so she did her best to muffle the sounds of her sobs.

By the time morning came, she felt more exhausted than when she went to bed the night before.

I should be excited about today. I’m moving in with my dad, something I’ve only dreamt about since I was three.

She did her best to hide the fact that she’d been crying all night when she finally trudged out to the living room. Her bags were by the front door, an unhappy reminder that this was the end. Trying not to focus on it, she smiled when she saw Steve at the stove, dressed in his pale blue pajama pants and white undershirt, his hair a little mussed still. The percolator sat on a burner, bubbling away, filling the whole house with the familiar, comforting aroma of his coffee.

God, I’m going to miss this, she tried to stifle down the tears that were trying to get out again.

Forcing a smile to her lips, she began to make her way over to the kitchen, when a knock on the front door stopped her short. Going over, she checked the peephole, and saw Happy standing on the other side, bouncing lightly from the balls of his feet to the heels and back again.

“Happy, what are you doing here?” She asked as she stepped back and let him in. He glanced around, casting a sharp gaze in Steve’s direction, which Grace had a feeling had to do with her father. “I told Dad I’d take the train to the airport.”

“He didn’t want you to try to get all your bags on the train,” Happy shrugged. “And he wanted to leave a little earlier. Wheels up in an hour, so we’d better get going.” He looked down at her three suitcases. “This all your stuff?”

“Yeah,” Grace nodded and watched Happy grab one bag and sling it over his shoulder then heft up the other two in each hand. “You don’t have to, Happy. I can carry my stuff down.”

“No, I’ve got it,” he insisted. “Better get a move on though. I’ll uh, let you say your goodbyes,” he nodded in Steve’s direction and looking over, Grace saw him watching them, his expression crestfallen.

Happy shuffled off with her luggage and Grace shut the door behind him, leaving them alone again. She made her way to the kitchen, feeling like her feet were weighed down with cement, each step laborious. The percolator finished its bubbling and Steve turned his attention back to the stove, turning off the burner and removing the coffee pot. Grace stood back, watching as he pulled a travel mug down from the cabinet and poured her coffee in it, adding just the right amount of cream and sugar for her. It struck her that, for a year, he’d been making her the perfect coffee every morning, but he had never once asked how. He had simply watched her make her own one morning and took it upon himself to do it from that day forward.

“I figured you might like some fuel for your trip,” he broke the silence as he clicked the lid onto the mug and held it out for her. When she took the cup from him, he leaned against the counter with his hip, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know I’m not the only one who didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Grace felt heat in her face, wondering how much crying he’d heard the night before.

“Steve—”

Before she could get out another word, he tenderly but authoritatively cupped her face with both hands and kissed her, deeply, hungrily. Grace didn’t resist, leaning into the pull of his gravity and kissing him back, she shut her eyes, focusing only on that moment. She slid one hand along his jawline and felt him lean into her, slowing down, until he came to a breathless stop, his lips hovering just over hers for a second before he pressed his forehead to hers. Grace opened her eyes, sneaking a peek up at him, a small, giddy smile overcoming the sadness of their parting.

I want to remember every inch of his face, she thought, taking in the definition of his cheeks, the angle of his jaw, his doe-like eyelashes.

“Sorry,” he murmured, not opening his eyes, but shaking his head slightly. “I just have too many regrets from my past, I didn’t want to add to them by letting you leave without doing that.”

She watched him clench his jaw and knew he was thinking of the missed chance with Peggy, how he’d gone down in in that plane fully expecting to die. Running her thumb along his cheek she pressed another light kiss to his lips.

“Well, I’m not sorry you did it,” she said, watching as he opened his bright, crystal blue eyes and smiled bashfully at her, a blush rising in his cheeks. “Just promise me something?” She asked and his eyes searched hers, waiting. “No matter what, when the three months is up, you’ll call. Even if this, whatever this is, fades away.”

“I promise,” he kissed her again.

“Woah, hey,” Happy’s voice shattered the peace of the moment, causing Grace and Steve to jerk apart, both looking to the door, seeing him holding a hand up over his eyes. “I was told to see what was taking so long. I won’t say anything to your dad, Grace, but uh, we should go. Now.”

“Happy, I’ll be there in just a sec,” Grace felt a furiously embarrassed heat in her face but Steve was snickering under his breath. Happy turned, his eyes still covered, and felt his way through the door, stepping out but leaving it open behind him. Turning back to Steve, she cupped his face one last time, committing it to memory. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he nodded. “I’ll talk to you in three months.”

Chapter Eight

Masterlist

Chapter Ten

5 notes · View notes

ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

If We Were Fast Enough

Flash!Reader x Flashfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 5.3K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: I had this idea after watching a few clips of Flashpoint Paradox! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Her hand was tightly clasped in his, eyes narrowed in sadness, but there was a pride in them; she felt the speed transfer between them, flowing through her veins and he said, “You’ve got my speed, honey. It’s up to you now.”

The tears that had welled in her vision tipped over and she whispered, “I can’t leave you here, dad. I—I can’t just run away.”

He shook his head. “You’re not running away. You’re surviving.” A groan escaped him, and the pool of blood seemed to double in size. “We’re running out of time. You’ve gotta go before the timeline collapses.”

“Where do I go?” she asked, wiping her eyes. “This universe is home.”

“Honey, Speedsters are Speedsters whichever universe we’re in.” he smiled weakly at her. “You’ll have a family wherever you end up.”

She gazed at him, breathing deeply as fresh tears grew in her gaze. “I’m scared.”

“I know. But you can do this.” he replied, pausing to look her over. “You look just like your mother, honey.” He smiled tearfully. “She’d be so proud of you if she were here now.”

Pulling the cowl over her head, she gave a watery laugh. “Mom always said I looked like you.”

“Nah. You take your speed and nature after me, but you are a spitting image of your mother.” A blast sounded in the distance and they both looked over, eyes widening as the white flash of light grew larger and larger. “You have to go. Now.”

Swallowing thickly, she leaned down and hugged him around his neck as tight as she could, inhaling the scent of ozone and spearmint for the last time. “I love you, dad. I love you so much.” Her fingers dug into his ruined suit as she cried. “I love you.”

He caressed the back of her cowled head. “I love you more, honey.” Pulling away, he leveled her with a firm look. “Now run, Lightning Flash. Run.”

The bluish-white lightning flowed across her body, and she turned, letting her feet carry her across the war-torn field, escaping the atomic blast. The world melted around her, a blur of memories surrounding her: her birthdays, her parents’ faces, her first stroke as a Flash, the start of the war, the deaths of her friends and family, everything up until now.

She was helpless to stop the tears that flowed down her cheeks, the feeling of her heart pounding in her chest, and the booming in her ears as she ripped through the waves of time and the boundaries of space.

A shriek sounded behind her, and she turned her head, eyes widening. “Ah shit!”

The time wraith screamed at her again, reaching out to grab her and she just barely dodged it, turning back to face the flowing warp. She was close. All she had to do was get to the next time boundary and she could lose the wraith.

“Almost there!” she told herself as another bellowed sounded in her ears again, and with one final leap, she burst through the barrier, the waves collapsing around her. The shock of the blast sent her skidding along the ground, and she cried out as she rolled.

Shouts sounded in her ears, humans, but she was more concerned about the screaming time wraith. “I just lost everything! Can’t you just leave me the hell alone!” It shrieked at her again, advancing and anger welled through her as she pushed herself to her feet and she growled, “You wanna dance, you sonovabitch? Then let’s dance.”

Her eyes lit up in a white force and she darted past the wraith, hitting a point above it, then she darted past again, and again and again in a star formation, over and over until all that could be seen was a blur of blue and white. The clouds rumbled above, swirling faster and faster and she hit the top of the star, coming down at the wraith. A burst of lightning cracked from the sky, striking the time being just as she collided with it, and in a hail of blue and white strikes, the wraith exploded into smoking fragments.

As the smoke cleared, the human voices grew louder, but she was sprawled out on the ground, breathing heavily, her body crying under the strain. Someone placed their hand on her shoulder, worrying, “Are you alright?”

She nodded weakly. “Yeah…just gimme a minute. The five-star lightning strike always takes a lot outta me.” Shutting her eyes, she focused on breathing deeply.

“I’ve never seen anyone destroy a time wraith before.”

“It takes practice.” Craning her neck, she opened her eyes, and bit back a sob as the man’s face cleared before hers. “You’re this world’s Flash, aren’t you?” she whispered, “Barry Allen.” His blue eyes widened, and he nodded mutely. “I figured.”

“Who are you?” he asked. “What world did you come from?”

She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. It’s gone now.” Meeting his gaze once more, she added, “But you can call me the Lightning Flash.”

“What’s your real name?” Barry quizzed.

(Y/N) Allen. And I’d tell you that but all it’d do is bring hurt to both of us.

“(Y/N) Sloan.” She laid her head down, closing her eyes. “I’m gonna take a nap for a while…I’m really…tired…”

His voice called out to her, but all she heard was a warbling noise as she drifted into darkness.

***

When she came to, her head felt like someone had thrown an overripe melon off a balcony ledge and watched it splatter across the ground. She groaned and forced her eyes to open, pushing herself up on her palms.

“Woah, woah, woah!” someone worried. “Take it easy there, Flashy.”

(Y/N) looked over, seeing a familiar green symbol, and an ever more familiar unmasked face. “I’m fine, Hal.”

He blinked. “You know who I am?”

“Please, I’d know that big head of yours from a mile away.” Smirking, she added, “I know everyone in the Justice League.” She grunted, pulling her left arm over her chest, feeling the taut muscles in her back ripple as she stretched them out. “Where am I?”

“The Watchtower.” Hal gazed at her curiously. “Man, when Barry said you knew who he was, I didn’t think he meant you knew all of us.”

“You sound upset that you didn’t get to introduce yourself,” she shot back with a pained grin, stretching her other arm. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll forget I know you, and you can reintroduce yourself.”

He chuckled and pressed a button on the side of the med bay bed. “Nah, no point now.” He looked down at the small light flashing. “Hey, she’s awake.”

In an instant, a sharp wind blew across the room and there stood the scarlet speedster without his cowl; moments later, the doors opened and in walked the top League members, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Batman.

(Y/N) threw her legs over the side of the bed as they walked over, waving off Barry and Hal who both reached for her, and stood on shaky legs. “Shit, I feel like a newly born giraffe.”

“You shouldn’t be up.” Barry frowned. “You practically tore yourself apart at the molecular level.”

“It was that or be taken by a time wraith,” she shot back, cracking her neck. “How long have I been out?”

“Eighty-six hours,” Batman said, taking her chin in his hand, tipping her head side to side as he shown a light in her eyes. “Your body’s been recovering slower than it should for a Flash.”

(Y/N) blinked. “The particular move does like Barry said it did. It tears the body at the molecular level to contain the speed force into one location.”

“It was dangerous,” Barry scowled, and she couldn’t help but laugh at this younger version of her father who was still just as serious.

“Being a Flash is dangerous.” She felt Batman pull away and she flexed her fingers. “I don’t use the move unless it’s a life-or-death situation.” Glancing at Barry, she questioned, “What earth is this?”

Before he could speak, Batman denounced, “You time jumped, and you don’t know what earth you came into?”

“I didn’t exactly have time to think out a plan while a nuclear blast was going off, Bruce,” she growled, glaring at him from behind the neon blue mask. “And to top it off, I had a time wraith coming after me. I wasn’t in a position to choose which earth I wanted.”

He went silent, gazing at her intently. “Whose names do you know of the Justice League here?”

(Y/N) looked around at the superheroes before her. “You’re all the same Justice League as my earth, but in mine, you’re retired, and your children run the show.”

“I’m sorry, children?” Hal interrupted. “We have—we have children?”

“Some,” she laughed. “Conner Kent is our Superman, Donna Troy is our Wonder Woman, Jason Todd is our Batman, Kyle Rayner is our Green Lantern, and Roy Harper is our Green Arrow.”

“And you?” Superman questioned.

“I’m my Justice League’s Flash. The Lightning Flash.” (Y/N) smiled wearily. “The fastest woman alive.” She toyed with the blue and white gauntlet. “At least now I am.”

“You said you were our kids?” Hal said. “Are you Barry’s daughter?”

The two Speedsters looked at each other and she answered calmly, “No. My transformation into the Flash was a freak accident, much like Wally West’s. That being said, I’m not related to the Flashfamily by blood.”

“Hmm.” Batman grunted, then turned, wandering off. “You need to rest up more then we’ll run tests.”

“Only if she consents.” Barry called out.

Bruce stopped, not even bothering to look over his shoulder as he retorted, “She’s a Speedster from another universe. We need more information before we can let her loose in anyone’s city.”

As he wandered off, she placed her hands on her hips and griped, “God, I miss Jason being Batman. He’s less of a jerk-off about new things.”

Superman chuckled, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t take it the wrong way…(Y/N), was it?”

She nodded. “Yeah, (Y/N) Sloan.” Sticking her hand out, she added, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he murmured, shaking her hand strongly, then he pulled away. “He is right though. You should get some more rest before you wander around the Watchtower.”

She waved it off. “I’ll be alright. If you’ve got a treadmill designed for Speedsters though, I’d like to run a bit.”

“I’ll show you where it is,” Barry answered, leading her from the group. As they walked down the hallway, she paused, leaning against the wall as a wave of nausea came over her; he caught it instantly. “Are you okay?” he frowned. “We should go back to the med bay.”

“No.” she grunted. “I’m fine. Just…just gimme a moment.” Shaking it off, she squared her shoulders. “I absorbed speed from the remaining Speedsters on my world before I left. It’s just taking a toll on me.”

“Why absorb their speed?” he asked, and she could tell from his voice that there was a level of suspicion in it.

“Because it was the only way to keep it from being stolen by our enemies as we were being slaughtered.” (Y/N) looked down the hall. “We can go now. It’s passed.” She bypassed him, wandering down the hallway, though she kept a hand on the railing the entire time.

***

It wasn’t a surprise that they sent her back to Central City with Barry after the few tests she’d let them run. Only tests on the outside, no blood or DNA samples for them to investigate. Barry’s apartment was cramped and there wasn’t room for them both to be in the kitchen, but she’d lived there before, so ducking under his arms and turning around him was second nature.

And Barry, bless the kindhearted soul he was, tried at every opportunity to make her comfortable in the home. (Y/N) respected it, knowing that even worlds apart, Barry Allen was still Barry Allen. She watched him sometimes. When he was sitting on the sofa or at the bar, flipping through paperwork or reading a book on physics. He always lost track of time, forgot what was happening around him, but his face showed ease. Peace. Like the world wasn’t on his shoulders.

It made her miss her father. It made her miss her family and friends. Her world. (Y/N) cried at night on the couch, silent tears dripping down her cheeks as she remembered every last moment of her family and friends’ lives. She’d been lucky in the end to come out unscathed. But her father, his friends, her friends, all dead. All killed in a pointless war that ended with the entire world blown to hell—and she was the only one left.

She sat beside the window, gazing down at the quiet street below her; she felt like crying, but by now, she’d cried out every tear, and all that remained was the hole drilled in her chest, empty and aching.

“(Y/N)?” Glancing over, she saw Barry coming out from his bedroom, brows furrowing at her. “Are you okay?”

Shrugging, she looked back out the window. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay again, Barry.” It was hard to not call him ‘dad’ all the time, and weird to call him ‘Barry’.

She felt him sit opposite of her on the little bench. “Can I help you anyway?”

It took a while for her to speak, but when she did, her voice was barely above a whisper. “It’s all gone. My life. All of it. I’m the only one left from my world.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m…alone.” His hand rested on hers and she felt tears well in her gaze. “I miss my family…and I miss my friends.”

She shook her head, looking at him. “Why my world? Why us?” tears slipped down her cheeks. “Everything was fine one moment and the next thing any of us knew, the world was going to war, and we couldn’t stop it.” A loathing laugh escaped her. “We were the Justice League. The proteges of the greatest heroes and yet we couldn’t stop war.”

(Y/N) wiped her tears. “We failed. I failed.”

“What happened wasn’t your fault, (Y/N).” Barry murmured. “You know that.”

“It feels like it.” She countered. “What do I have to show for all my saving? A sole survivor stuck in a world that has no need for her.”

His eyes were narrowed in concern, the way her father’s used to do when she’d tell him of her troubles and doubts. “There’s always a need for us. Everyone one of us.”

“Speedsters?” she asked, and he squeezed her hand.

“If the universe wanted you dead, you’d be dead, (Y/N). But you’re here and you’re alive.” He smiled sadly. “You can’t outrun the past. But you can change the direction you’re running in.”

She gazed at him and for once in the past few weeks she’d been there, she felt her heart lighten. “Thank you, Barry.”

He smiled warmly at her and patted her hand. “Since we’re both awake…wanna go for a run?”

(Y/N) chuckled and nodded her head. “Yeah. It’d certainly help burn off the emotions.” She held out her hand and Barry looked at the ring on her finger.

“Wow, your ring is cool.” He took her hand, gazing intently at it. “I noticed your suit isn’t red like most of us Speedsters are. Yours is mainly blue and white.”

She nodded. “It was too complicated to call myself Flash since there were more than one, so I took the name Lightning Flash and designed my suit the colors associate with lighting.” (Y/N) vibrated and reappeared in her suit. “Blue and white.”

“With silver trimming,” he added, poking the mask she wore, and she batted his hand away.

“Hey, gold’s overrated.”

Barry’s face pinched as he vibrated into his suit. “Is not!”

“Is too! It’s the colors for the Seminoles.”

He placed a hand to his chest. “I can’t believe you just told me my colors were FSU’s colors. I’ve been fatally wounded.”

“You’re a drama queen,” (Y/N) laughed then started towards the door. “Race you to Coast City!”

Barry sped after her. “Why Coast City!”

“Because it’s California, man!” she watched as he matched her speed. “And Hal’s apartment always has Doritos!”

“I think you might have a crush on our resident Green Lantern,” Barry teased and (Y/N) gagged.

“Dude, gross.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t tell me you aren’t friends with your Green Lantern!”

“The best, but Kyle and I were only friends! My dalliance fell with another team member!”

“Batman?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Batman.”

“Oh. Lovely.” Barry sighed. “You and Jason Todd seem like a wonderful pair.”

(Y/N) snorted. “Contrary to popular belief, Jason was actually a fantastic Batman. He loved it, oddly enough.”

“That is odd,” the Speedster countered. “Because as far as I know, none of the Batkids want to be Batman.”

She merely laughed in return, passing the Coast City sign.

***

“You know these aren’t…my world folks, right?”

He smiled, watching the group of young adults across the room laugh and joke around. “I know, but the lot of us thought it would be good if you got together with the age group of you own.” Barry looked over. “Besides, I think you’re going to fit right in with this world’s group.”

(Y/N) tipped her head side to side, huffing a laugh as Jason thumped Kyle in the side. “We’ll see.” She let Barry lead her over and the small group perked up at their arrival.

“Hey guys, thanks for coming on such short notice. I know you were busy.”

Jason crossed his arms over his chest. “So, why did the League invite us all?”

Barry gestured to (Y/N). “I’d like everyone to meet (Y/N) Sloan. She’s a Speedster who recently arrived on this earth.”

“Recently?” Roy asked and he nodded.

“There was a…problem on her earth.” He glanced at her and nodded, prompting her to speak.

“My world isn’t in the general stream of timelines anymore.” She smiled awkwardly. “I came here to…survive more or less.” Holding out her hand for one of them to shake, she said, “But it’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

“You know who we are?” Kyle asked as he shook her hand.

“Yeah. This world is surprisingly similar to mine, Kyle.” (Y/N) smiled with a little less awkwardness. “I know all of you.” Her eyes fell on Jason who was watching her closely, teal eyes narrowed in calculation. “Penny for your thoughts?”

He hummed. “Who are we over there?”

At that, all the awkwardness fell away. “You don’t wanna know,” she giggled, and his face dropped.

“No.” she nodded, and he whispered, “Me?”

“You.”

“I’m confused,” Roy interrupted, and Donna snickered.

“I think Jason’s the Batman of (Y/N)’s world.”

“HA!” everyone dissolved into hysterics as Jason proceeded to all but cry.

“I don’t wanna be Batman!” he whined. “Why am I Batman! Why not anyone else!”

(Y/N) laughed. “What are you talking about? You volunteered to be Batman.”

“Jesus, I must’ve lost my mind then,” Jason retorted, then looked at her. “Do I carry guns?”

“Non-lethal rounds.”

“Damnit.” He sulked. “Can’t freakin’ believe I’m the Batman on your world and I willingly put the suit on.”

“You were a good Batman,” she stated. “There wasn’t anyone I trusted more to watch my back on the team.”

He met her gaze, seemingly shocked, though it only lasted a minute as he quizzed, “So if I’m Batman, does that make all of us…?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Yep. Wonder Woman, Superman, Green Arrow, and Green Lantern.”

“And you?” Kyle asked.

“Lightning Flash,” she answered coolly. “The fastest woman alive.” Meeting their gazes, she tipped her head down. “I know you’re not them…but I do hope we can be friends.” She smiled. “You can never have too many of those, no matter what world you’re on.”

Kyle looked over at Barry who was almost crying. “We get to keep her, right? Because if we don’t, I’m going to be very upset.”

(Y/N) snorted and wrapped a loose arm around his waist. “Don’t worry, Kyle. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” A growling sounded and her cheeks warmed as she pressed a hand to her stomach. “Sorry about that.”

Jason laughed, getting to his feet. “I guess Speedster stomachs are the same no matter what world you’re on.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Barry retorted, and the vigilante looked at her.

“Wanna annoy Batman and hang around Gotham City?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Wait for me!” Roy shouted, yanking his legs from the table, and soon the others were following.

Barry watched them as they walked to the Zeta-Tubes, laughing and ribbing one another like they’d been friends since childhood; someone nudged him in the side, murmuring, “She’s gonna be okay.”

He nodded as Hal settled beside him. “Yeah…I know she will.” He smiled as (Y/N) leaned into Jason’s side and brought a hand to her eyes, wiping the tears away. “She’s already fitting in better than I thought.”

“(Y/N)’s a strong woman,” Hal acknowledged. “She acts a lot like you in that aspect.”

“How so?” Barry inquired and the Lantern shrugged.

“Well, you can’t get her to stop attending League meetings no matter what Batman says, and she’s always ready to put herself on the line for us.” Hal huffed a laugh. “And she treats me like I’m an old man. I’m thirty-eight and she acts like I’m fifty-six.” He looked at Barry. “But she flows in the world like you, Barry. Her mannerisms, her styles, her speech, it’s all you.”

The Speedster frowned, quietly stating, “You think she’s my future daughter, don’t you?”

Hal shrugged. “She doesn’t look like you, but she’s comfortable around you. Like she knows she’s safe if you’re there with her.”

“Why lie about it though?” Hal could tell Barry was hurt. “Wouldn’t she want to tell me?”

“If you lost everything and showed up in another world where there was a parent still alive, would you act like nothing changed or would you keep it at arms-length?”

Barry sighed. “You’re…right.” He shook his head. “I didn’t even think of that.” His frown deepened. “She must hate looking at me though. I’m not her dad but I’m another version of him.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Barry.” Hal said, clasping his hand on his best friend’s shoulder. “She’s just…trying to keep it all together and not mix this world with hers.”

“I feel connected with her.” He admitted. “The speed force works funny like that. We can feel other speedsters—we know their speeds and auras.” His voice became soft. “Hers feels like…like…”

“Like?” Hal encouraged and Barry sighed.

“Her aura feels like when I went back in time and saved my mom.” He shook his head. “It’s hard to explain but she feels like—”

“Like family.”

Barry gaped at Hal. “Yeah…that’s exactly it.”

Hal nodded. “She’s still your daughter even worlds apart.”

“What do I say to her?”

“Don’t.” he answered. “Let her come to you about it.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Barry agreed.

***

The group had dispersed as quickly as it had come together, not that she was overly upset—she knew they all had prior engagements and teams to be apart of, but she would’ve been lying to say that it hadn’t saddened her a bit. Jason and Kyle, however, seemed to be the only ones that were usually around, Jason more than the latter.

(Y/N) liked being around Jason. He was much more hotheaded than she was used to, but she decided that like the Flashes, Jason Todd was Jason Todd no matter what universe he was in.

He was a little more reckless than she knew, playing fast and loose with the game, but he knew where his feet landed with each jump, and he was there when she needed help, her the same.

It hadn’t taken him long to deduce that the two of them were more than friends in her world, making the joke that she was his Catwoman—she’d cried she’d laughed so hard, but it given them time to talk about everything that had happened to her and her world; most importantly, her father.

She watched as Jason reclined against the cool stone of the ledge, passing one of the wrapped cheeseburgers to her. “Thank you,” she murmured, unwrapping it.

“Mhm,” he hummed, sipping his milkshake, setting his hood beside him; he swallowed and looked over. “What’s on your mind?”

(Y/N) blinked. “What are you talking about?” he merely cocked a brow and she sighed. “I forgot you could read people well.”

“Well maybe if you were a book and not a pamphlet, it’d be harder.”

“Did you just call me simple?”

“Never.” He waved it off. “What are you thinking about?”

She sighed again and set her half-eaten burger aside, pulling her knees to her chest as she whispered, “My mom’s maiden name was Sloan.”

Jason arched a brow. “You go by ‘Sloan’. Was your mom married?”

“My parents were. She died from cancer when I was ten.”

“I’m sorry,” he lamented, and she smiled.

“Thank you.” (Y/N) looked over. “My last name is Allen.”

His eyes widened. “As in Barry Allen, Allen?”

“Yeah…my dad.”

Jason blinked. “Holy shit.”

“Mhm.” She propped her chin on her knees. “The reason I’m just as fast as Wally West in this world is because I absorbed my dad’s speed before I left mine.” (Y/N) gazed at the city. “And then I left him to die in the blast.”

“You know that wasn’t your fault.”

She huffed. “So Barry’s told me.”

Jason stared at her. “Why do you live with him in Central City?”

“Because I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she answered. “And I…I—”

“You miss your dad.” He answered for her, and she nodded, feeling warmth gather in her eyes and she squeezed them shut.

“Yeah…it’s not him but…”

“It’s the only thing you’ve got that’s close enough to him.”

“Yeah.”

Jason nodded. “You’re welcome to come live with me over here.”

(Y/N) looked over at him. “I can’t do that, Jason.”

“Why not?”

She laughed. “We barely know each other.”

He shrugged. “We know each other enough.” Gazing at her, he added, “I’m not your world’s Jason, but we must be similar enough because I’ve seen and felt you fall behind me during fights, being at my six when I didn’t have it covered.” He smiled. “You know me, (Y/N), and I’d like to know you too.”

She merely gaped at him, then huffed a laugh. “I think that’s the most similar thing to my world’s Jason that I’ve heard you say.”

“Oh, come on!” he griped. “He couldn’t be that different from me!”

(Y/N) smiled. “Robins.”

Jason blanched. “I had Robins?”

“You had a son, who was exactly like you right now.”

“I wanna ask about the son, but what do you mean right now?”

“Oh, you know…hotheaded, anti-social, antagonistic.”

“You’re cute,” he scowled, then looked into the distance. “I can’t imagine bringing my kid with me.”

(Y/N) giggled. “Please, it took him like five years of complete begging on his knees before you’d even let him put on the suit, let alone go out with you.” She reached over and pushed hair behind his ear. “You were a good father…a good man.” Her expression turned sad. “I wasn’t fast enough to save either of you.”

Jason leaned into her touch, a frown on his face. “They know you tried, (Y/N).”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “I hope they knew that.” She shook her head as the tears started to spill over. “I lost everyone. You, JJ, my dad and all my friends.” (Y/N) stared at him through the tears. “How do I just start over after all that?”

He pushed the takeout bags out of the way and scooted over, pulling her to his chest; she buried her face in his suit and he propped his chin on the crown of her head. “I wish I had an answer for you.” He rubbed circles in her back. “But I do know that you can either let this keep you down, or you can get back up. Because if you don’t…then every life lost was in vain for you to survive.”

“I take it back,” she blubbered. “Your philosophical bullshit life lessons are the most Jason thing I’ve heard.”

He smiled, squeezing her tight. “That’s what we’re gonna call it now. Philosophical bullshit life lessons.” Jason pressed a kiss to her head. “It’s going to be okay, (Y/N). It’ll get better.”

***

It’d been a full year since she’d come to the new earth. She hadn’t moved in with Jason yet, but the moving boxes on the couch were the start of it—and she hadn’t told Barry she was leaving, or that he was her dad. (Y/N) wasn’t sure how to break that seal just yet.

She wandered around the tiny apartment, smiling at all the memories she’d made in the past year, and into his bedroom, where she paused at his dresser. A gold ring rested on top of it, and she picked it up, flipping it in her hand.

A woosh sounded from the door. “I’m home!” Barry’s voice trailed off in confusion and he called, “(Y/N)?”

“Here.”

He appeared in her peripheral, but she didn’t take her eyes off the ring, still gazing at the center stones. “There are boxes on the couch.”

“I’m moving in with Jason over in Gotham.”

“Oh…” he murmured, then took sight of what she had in her hands. “Is that—”

“Nora’s wedding ring?” she nodded. “Yeah.”

“How’d you know it was my mom’s?” Barry asked, stepping up to her and she finally looked at him, meeting his eyes.

“Because I had the same one in my world.” (Y/N) searched his gaze. “But you don’t seem surprised by that fact.” She sighed. “How long have you known?”

Barry’s face contorted in shame. “A few weeks after you got here.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

He shook his head. “Hal said—” he sighed. “I wanted to wait until you said something to me about it. I was afraid if I did, you’d run.”

(Y/N)’s brows pulled together, lips pulling down sadly. “Barry…”

“I know I’m not your dad,” he whispered. “But I know, (Y/N). I can feel it.”

She felt her lips wobble and before she knew it, she was throwing herself into his arms, wrapping hers around his waist as tight as she could. “Dad.”

Barry’s arms came around her, one holding the back of her head, the other in the middle of her back. “I’m here, (Y/N).”

“I missed you so much,” she cried. “I wasn’t fast enough to save them, and I couldn’t save you either.”

“No,” he said. “You did everything you could. I know you did.”

“But I wasn’t fast enough.” (Y/N) sobbed. “You had to give me your speed so I could run away. Like a coward.”

“Like a survivor,” Barry corrected. “You’ve never run away.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “You’re a survivor, (Y/N). And your dad made sure of that.” He pulled away slightly, tears of his own dripping down his cheeks. “You’re fast enough.” She shut her eyes as more tears rolled down her cheeks and he pressed his lips to her forehead. “And no matter what world you’re on, you’re still my daughter.”

A laugh that sounded much more like a sob escaped her and she hugged him again. “I love you, dad.”

Barry smiled, holding her tight. “I love you more, honey.”

434 notes · View notes

thelordofdarkreunion · 3 years

Text

The Worst Planet in the Universe

The “humans are weird/earth is space Australia” stories that are quite famous here usually have aliens reacting to how they think humanity or Earth is really strange and bizarre. So, I got an idea: what if people could react not to Earth, but to one of the singular worst planets in all of science fiction? Here, we have some of the characters of the Magnificent Scoundrels reacting to the planet of Krieg and its infamous Death Korps from Warhammer 40k.

Death Korps is pronounced “death core” not “death corpse.” Jeicher is pronounced the German way, as “yay-cur”, not “jai-cher.”

“In life, war. In death, peace. In life, suffering. In death, atonement.” -Final litany of the Litany of Sacrifice, recited by the Guardsmen of the Death Korps of Krieg when entering battle

The shuttle slipped through the dead and polluted atmosphere, shields raised to their fullest capacity to avoid the boiling streaks of orange lightning. The occupants of the shuttle stared warily out the window, still nervous even though their craft was in the hands of some of the best pilots in the universe.

“I still don’t understand why we’re here,” said Commissar Cain from a strapped-in seat in the shuttle’s rear.

“Well, we’re visiting planets from each other’s galaxies,” replied Admiral Vir from the cockpit as he and Solo desperately tried to avoid the lighting.

“Yeah, I know that,” snapped back Cain. “What I don’t understand is why we’re here. Out of all the planets in the galaxy, you pick this one.”

“You wanted to know more about populous Imperial Guard regiment homeworlds, and you said Krieg sounded like an interesting name,” muttered Solo as a particularly large blast lit up the cockpit window. “Starting to regret that now?”

“I most certainly am!” screamed Dr. Kril from inside the heavy clear plastic compartment designed to hold him when accompanying Vir off the Omen. “And I thought Earth was a death world!”

“Radiation levels are approaching 3,700 roentgan,” said Vir, crisply reading off the cockpit instruments.

“We’re all gonna die,” wailed Kril.

The shuttle’s communication system crackled to life, and a dry, toneless voice sounded over it.

“Shuttle B-77401, you are clear of the storm in twenty seconds. Please proceed to landing pad RT-556 at coordinates 66579. Radiation levels on ground are currently 1,500 roentgan.”

“I remember reading up on your horrible human disasters, and that’s the level of radiation the Chernobyl disaster had right next to the plant as the fires were still going!” screeched Kril. “I will not be stepping foot on this planet! If you have a death wish, that's fine with me, but I won’t be leaving the shuttle!” He crossed his arms and sat against the container wall. Vir and Solo didn’t have time to respond.

“Breaking storm now.” The lightning and horrible, swirling grey clouds cleared, only to reveal a scene of utter devastation. The land below was an endless expanse of grey and brown. Entire swaths of earth were covered with grey dust. Other areas were endless seas of irradiated mud, with ancient and rusted barbed wire, empty concrete bunkers, and long abandoned and corroded gun emplacements sticking out from the infinite brown. A few ossified trees, long dead, peeked up in places, the only signs of life, or what was once life, on the planet.

“What happened here?” murmured Vir.

“A tale of tragedy, and betrayal,” replied Cain softly. “Once upon a time, some 1,500 years ago, Krieg was a massive city world. The ruling oligarchy decided to turn their backs on the Emperor and rebel against the Imperium of Man. The commander of the loyalist Guard forces decided that if the Imperium couldn’t have the planet, no one would. But despite the unleashing of a stash of Dark Age nuclear weapons, the people of Krieg survived, and loyalist fought traitor in a five hundred year long war in the trenches of the wastes.” The shuttle was silent, imagining how horrible such a war would be. This singular civil war, on this singular planet, eclipsed even the most horrible of fights from most of their home galaxies. “Eventually, the loyalists won, and rejoined the Imperium. Ever since, the people of Krieg have fought in the deadliest of Imperial warzones to repent for their ancient betrayal.”

“Wait, wait, wait. There are people that live here? This isn’t just a military base?” asked an incredulous Solo.

“Yes,” replied Cain. “They live in massive underground cities, safely shielded from the worst of the radiation aboveground.”

“My god… there aren’t really words to describe that,” said Vir.

“Shuttle B-77401, you are cleared for landing,” came the voice of the controller. “Please wear radiation-proof suits. Commissar Jeicher will be present along with an honor guard to escort you.” The brown of mud gave way to a large, circular landing pad sunk into Krieg’s dead earth. The pad led to a set of stairs, travelling down into a set of heavy, sealed double doors, leading even further down into the ruined planet’s crust. On the pad were two figures, clad in greatcoats and gasmasks, flanked by a double line of soldiers. Vir and Solo set the shuttle down.

In the back, Cain had already pulled the hood of a radiation-proof bodysuit over his head, and attached an anachronistic looking gasmask. Over this, he donned an old and tattered Commissarial cap and greatcoat. Vir and Solo also donned much more modern-looking gas masks over their bodysuits, and went to the shuttle’s rear as Kril screeched about the dangers of radiation. With the quick press of a button, they activated the airlock and stepped onto the surface of the ruined planet.

Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance as they stepped down the shuttle ramp and came face to face with what they presumed to be Commissar Jeicher. He was wearing the same outfit as Cain, a Commissar’s cap and greatcoat covering his bodysuit and gas mask. Behind him was a double rank of soldiers, wearing grey greatcoats and gas masks, clutching their las rifles in the ‘present arms’ position. Next to Jeicher stood another figure, hands clasped neatly behind their back. This one was dressed in much fancier boots, and wore a cuirassier’s breastplate. A brown greatcoat was draped over the figure's shoulders, and Vir assumed it to be an officer. Jeicher reached out to shake each of the trio’s hands in turn.

“Admiral Vir. Captain Solo. Commissar Cain. A pleasure to have you on Krieg. I am Commissar Jeicher, and this is Captain Kust,” he said, pointing to the officer behind him. Kust offered a single, curt nod. “You wished to have a tour of the planet, and to see it’s capacity for making war. I can assure you, gentlemen, that Krieg is one of the finest planets in the Imperium in that regard. I trust you will not be disappointed.” As he said this, Jeicher led them down the path leading away from the shuttle and towards the underground tunnels. As they walked, a series of flashes lit up the horizon, followed by the booming of thunder. Jeicher raised a gloved hand and gestured in the general direction of the noise.

“About twenty kilometers in that direction, we have the artillery and live-fire drills of the soon to be 712th Death Korps Regiment. It is the be the newest regiment coming into Imperial service, and the thirtieth Death Korps regiment raised this month. They will soon be shipping out to Warzone Viclius in the Segmentum Pacificus to break a massive ork siege of the Viclius sector.” They reached the end of the twin lines of troopers.

“Right shoulder, arms!” yelled Kust, her voice (Vir could tell it was a ‘her’ underneath the mask now) managing to carry through both her mask and Krieg’s stormy atmosphere. “Left face!” The Korpsmen spun to face the heavy blast doors in perfect synchronicity. Jeicher inputted some sort of code, and, with a great creaking and grinding of metal, the doors slid open. “Forward, march!”

The group, followed by the honour guard, stepped into a large white room. As the doors closed behind them, various nozzles sprayed radiation-retardant foam onto them. The airlock process completed, the heavy set of double doors in front of them opened. Despite the decontamination, no one took their masks off.

The halls were quite familiar to Vir, but unlike anything he’d seen as a civilization. They were long, emotionless white and grey concrete bunker systems, lit by cheap yellow bulbs that still allowed him to see perfectly well. Endless, emotionless bunker halls. It saddened him. What a terrible way to live and grow up.

Through the long walkways, they passed seemingly thousands of Korpsmen, all wearing grey greatcoats, and staring from behind emotionless gas masks. They all blurred into one, and Vir was grateful that at least Jeicher, Kust, and their honor guard he could pick out from the crowd.

They reached another large double blast door, and the two Korpsmen standing guard outside snapped to attention. The group walked through, only for the three offworlders to stop short. The entire left half of the hallway was a massive clear window. Far beneath them, a full division of Death Korps Guardsmen marched through an utterly massive, hangar-sized underground hallway. It was an endless tide of grey coats and gas masks, the thud of their boots echoing up even past the glass of the observation deck. Tanks rolled past, along with smaller, two legged armored walkers.

“That’s the 122nd Siege Army. Newly formed. They’re shipping out to the southern part of Segmentum Ultima today,” said Jeicher. He made another motion, and the group, still followed by Kust and her honor guard, left the observation room.

They walked through more hallways, still stark and emotionless, until they got to another double door. This area of tunnels and bunkers seemed to have more Korpsmen around. Officers, wearing their higher, more polished boots and cuirassiers’ breastplates. The double doors opened, revealing a much more polished and refined room, made mostly out of metal. Computers clung to the walls, and workstations were filled with Death Korps soldiers, red-robed cybernetic tech-priests, and unmasked commissars.

“This is the central command room of this section of Krieg’s underground cities,” said Jeicher, continuing the tour. “All the regiments and supplies that are raised and produced in section Alpha-Gamma-551 are tracked here. As you can see, we have more than enough to outfit the two regiments this sector is raising.” They went through the room, through another series of hallways, and down multiple sets of solid but plain corrugated steel stairs.

“Here we have the underground munitions factories of Krieg,” said Jeicher, gesturing through another glass panel on an observation deck. This time, the windows led onto an utterly massive factory floor. Conveyor belts led to unknown machines, and churned out endless numbers of what seemed to be artillery shells. “As you can see, everything is completely on schedule.” Vir noticed workers, all wearing heavy grey suits and gas masks below. Some of them seemed to be… off, and it took a moment for him to realize precisely why.

“Wait a minute… are those children?” he wheeled around and demanded at Jeicher. He was met with the empty lenses of a gas mask.

“Yes,” replied Jeicher. “I do realize that many off-worlders not of the Munitorum or Mechanicus find the practice… distasteful, but-”

“Distasteful doesn’t even begin to cover it. More like abhorrent,” snarled Vir.

“If you cannot fight, you must serve,” intoned Kust. “All infertile males serve in the Death Korps. Most fertile males and infertile females serve in the Death Korps. Most fertile females and some fertile males serve in the munitions factories. Children cannot go to waste,” she finished, rattling off the practices of Krieg in a completely toneless voice. Vir looked like he was about to explode. Cain put a hand on his shoulder, and nodded towards the honor guard and their las guns. Noticing the mood in the room, Jeicher went on.

“I think it’s best if we go on,” he said. The group followed him through another set of hallways, and when Kust was out of earshot, Jeicher spoke to the trio of newcomers.

“Please don’t antagonize the Kriegers,” he said. “That’s why they have commissars, actually. To ease the transition between them and any allied forces.” “They deserve to die,” hissed Vir, still shaking with rage. Jeicher gave a mirthless laugh.

“Oh, they do. Their entire purpose, their entire existence, is to die in the Emperor’s wars. They want this.”

“Why?” asked Solo. “Why would anyone want this?”

“They are driven by one of the most powerful motivators in the world. Not anger, not love, not faith, but shame. Shame of their ancient rebellion. In the Emperor’s service, the Death Korps will pay any price.”

The group reached another viewing balcony. This one overlooked a much smaller room, where a group of children in grey overcoats drilled with small las carbines. Vir clenched his fist in rage, but said nothing.

“Present arms!” yelled an adult and fully uniformed drill sergeant from behind his gas mask. The children held out their weapons in front of them, many with as much or even more precision than Vir had seen of new GA marine recruits. Most of them looked to be no older than six or seven, making the workers in the factory even younger…

No. He did not want to think about that.

The drill instructor moved along the line of recruits (or children, if you were fortunate enough to not be raised in a post-apocalyptic militaristic hellhole, thought Vir.) The instructor spun and glared at one of the cadets.

“P-44271930,” he stated.

“Yes, sir!” replied the cadet, with the enthusiasm of a fresh recruit.

“What is your duty, P-44271930?” asked the instructor.

“To serve the Emperor’s will,” replied the cadet.

“And what is the Emperor’s will?” queried the instructor.

“That we fight and die!” Vir clenched down so hard he crushed the balcony bar in the viewing room.

“What is death?” asked the instructor.

“It is our duty!” replied the cadet. The instructor nodded.

“Very good, P-44271930.” He took a step back. “Right shoulder, arms!” Vir looked at Jeicher.

“They’re calling them by their serial numbers at that young of an age?” he asked, still fuming. Jeicher inwardly cringed. He suspected the esteemed Admiral would not like what came next.

“They don’t have names,” said Kust, with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

“What?” asked Vir, in a ‘please, do try my patience’ tone.

“None of us have names,” replied Kust.

“You have a name,” pointed out Vir.

“You only get a name if you survive long enough to become an officer,” replied Kust.

“Really?” Vir wheeled around to face the leader of the honor guard. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“YH-5577933,” replied the man, in a completely emotionless voice. Vir threw his hands in the air, completely done.

“Fine.” He nodded at Jeicher. “Continue the tour,” he snapped. Jeicher nodded, and motioned them on. I have to get off this place as soon as possible, thought Vir. This is… beyond anything I thought possible.

I hope you enjoyed it. I find Krieg and the Death Korps are one of the most interesting groups in science fiction. Motivated by shame, they represent the worst humanity could ever become. However, they are utter badasses in battle. If you aren’t afraid to die, you can pull of some pretty heroic things. If you have any questions, comments, criticisms, concerns, requests, or want me to continue this story, please tell me! Have a great day!

It should be noted, of course, I do not own any of these characters. Vir and Kril belong to starr-fall-knight-rise, Cain belongs to Games Workshop, and Solo belongs to Disney.

#writing #story #humans are space orcs #earth is a deathworld #warhammer 40k #death korps of krieg

227 notes · View notes

jedifarmerr · 2 years

Text

Wasteland Series (Fallout AU)

Post-Apocalyptic Frankie x F! Reader

Word Count: 3.4K

Rating: R/E (18+)

Warnings: Language, nightmares, guns, mutant animals & bugs, food/eating, little bit of angst, post-nuclear war.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 4: Creatures Of The Land.

They stopped for the night at the first place they could find with an intact roof and four sturdy walls.

The Red Rocket Truck Stop.

It was around two klicks from where they fought the ghouls, and she didn’t say a word the entire time. But neither did they.

They cleared out a windowless storage closet that smelled like dust and dry rot mops and she didn’t even remark. Instead, she remained silent as the grave. She shut the door without looking at them.

Afterwards, Benny and Santi double-checked every corner of the interior while Frankie and Will silently searched the perimeter. Nothing other than a few rad-ants that met the end of a bullet.

By the time Frankie plopped down on a squeaky, metal chair, the moonlight was spilling through the windows onto the black and white store tile.

There was tension in the air. It was thick and surging up and down the aisles cluttered with molded snack packs, expired chip bags, and souvenir magnets.

They had been caught off-guard. And nobody liked being caught off-guard. Encountering ghouls wasn’t exactly uncommon, but they’d spent the last few days exploring and clearing the area. He thought they could at least go a few miles without being attacked by an angry mob of undead.

Santi was the first to break the silence. He hoisted himself onto the checkout counter and said, “Well that didn’t go well.”

“It could’ve gone worse.” Will slumped down in the rusty diner chair beside Frankie, then unlaced his boots. “She’s alive. Besides, I don’t know what else we could’ve done.”

“Are you serious? We should’ve warned her, man.” Benny stared out at the gas pumps strangled by vines. “I knew we should’ve warned her.”

Frankie immediately heard Will’s jaw click. Uh-oh.

“Yeah? So, why didn’t you?” Will nudged his little brother. Abruptly, Benny turned to him with a spiky jaw.

“What’d you say?”

“Look, in her room, you could’ve told her,” Will said. “But instead, you were in there talking about ice cream and Italy-”

“I was trying to make her feel comfortable.”

“Comfortable? Oh! That’s great.” Will slapped his hands against his thighs. “Let’s make sure the Vault-Tec girl feels right at home.”

“Fuck you, she didn’t ask for this.”

“Yeah, and how do you know that?” Will didn’t give Benny time to answer before saying, “You need to watch yourself with her.”

“All of us do.” Santi stood up. His tone was much softer than Will’s. It appeared he was trying to de-escalate the situation before shit hit the fan. “I feel bad for her too, believe me. But we still gotta be careful with this.”

Benny glanced over at Frankie. He looked almost apologetic. He bowed his head – a subtle nod of agreement.

“We’re taking tomorrow off,” Santi said, and everyone agreed it would be best to give her some time to process. Give them time to clear their heads.

Then, they could get back on the road.

———-

One day had somehow become nine, and counting.

For the first three days, she barely left her room. They only really saw her when she needed to use the bathroom. She’d snatched the food outside her door like a stray cat when no one was looking. For the most part, it went untouched aside from the dried fruit.

Finally, she came out on the fourth day. During a rowdy card game, she’d slowly made her way out of the storage closet and joined them. After that, she’d emerged more and more – bit by bit.

Most of the time, she hung around Benny. Not surprising. In the past, stragglers had always latched onto Benny. Good ole Benjamin with his school boy charm, easy smiles and goofy-ass laugh. He was convinced of her innocence, even without any concrete proof.

I just know. I got a gut feeling about it.

Benny’s intuition appeared to be enough to start swaying Pope. Will still seemed hesitant, though. And of course, Frankie was stationary. He was like a boulder or a bull. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Benny’s judgment, usually he did without question. But he wondered how clear Benny’s head was in this situation.

Unlike other stragglers, she was…attractive. At times, she could be funny. Even so, she still annoyed the piss out of him. She was always picking fights over stupid shit like what beans were better or how to correctly pronounce Bugles – a snack he’d never had and never would. She poked and poked and poked at him until he’d snap, then she’d smile and laugh and flutter her long lashes. All innocent, but unlike Benny, he didn’t buy it.

This entire thing felt like a ticking time bomb. He was just waiting for it to blow up in his face. He didn’t know when or how or why.

He just knew it was inevitable.

—-

It’d been eleven days since they found her. Eleven days at the damn Red Rocket Truck Stop.

With every day that passed, Frankie felt more and more like a sitting duck. He was just waiting for something or someone to attack. He was on edge and bored out of his mind. In fact, he’d taken to memorizing the prices of snacks and soda and even gas pump dials – twelve bucks for premium unleaded and fifteen for diesel. At least, it gave his mind something to do.

Currently, Santi and him were lounging outside in a set of gingham lawn chairs they’d stumbled upon while searching a nearby shed for supplies. The sun was warm against his skin, his face. It was peaceful. Until she came barreling out of the storefront like a bat out of hell.

“I need to use the bathroom.”

“Not it,” Santi said before he could – asshole.

“Where’s Benny? Or Will?” Frankie didn’t open his eyes, his face still tipped towards the sun.

“Napping. Now come on.”

When he didn’t immediately jump up, she started to throw a tantrum, “Frankie,” she whined, fussing and stomping her foot on the asphalt. She was giving him a headache.

Frankie snatched his gun from the makeshift side table – an empty barrel – and shoved another gun into the back of his waistband before escorting her bratty ass to the bathroom. It was a quarter mile south, a pit latrine because she couldn’t just be easy and find a spot behind a tree. He supposed a hole in the ground beat cleaning out a bucket.

“Don’t take long,” he grunted before she slammed the door.

Like always, Frankie remained on-watch. Directly behind the single-stall bathroom was the mouth of what used to be a hiking trail. There were too many trees for his liking. Too many hiding spots. When his eyes flickered to the overgrown brush, there was a flash of something dark in the weeds. It was gone in a blink.

With his safety off, he cautiously inched across the cracked sidewalk. He didn’t hear anything, so he hoped it was just a floater from staring into the sun too long.

Boom.

Startled, Frankie spun around as she burst through the door. The metal slammed against the shabby brick wall and it was just fucking her.

She must’ve realized she scared him because she smirked. “Everything alright, Frankie?”

He grunted in response. He was about to lecture her on making too much noise until a faint buzz came from behind him. He knew it wasn’t just his tinnitus flaring up when her brows furrowed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a black mass. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. He rushed towards her as the noise grew louder. “Stay behind me,” he ordered before lightly shoving her into the metal door. She didn’t yell or curse or complain. She actually listened. It seemed like the only time she listened was when they were in danger.

A pack of angry bloatflies surfaced from the field.

“Holy shit - are those flies?” she asked as the bugs flew towards them. The fuckers were fast and never traveled in group of less than five or six. Bloatflies weren’t his least favorite creature, but they were definitely a bigger nuisance than their microscopic counterparts.

He took out the leader – the one in front. A single bullet through its netted-eyes and the horse fly broke apart like a popped bubble. Five left.

He went to aim at the next largest one when it fired its own projectile from its stinger. The translucent glob throttled through the air.

“Duck!” he commanded and luckily, she obeyed. The toxin hit the metal door with a steaming hiss.

After that, she seemed completely content in his shadow as he whittled down the pack until there was only one left. He pulled the trigger, but it clicked – empty.

Before he could wrestle out the gun in his waistband, two bullets whizzed past his ear. One right after the other. The first one missed, but the second one nailed the bug right in its lumpy neck with a splat.

Frankie cupped his ringing ear and abruptly turned around.

She waved the gun in his face with a self-satisfied grin. “You’re welcome,” she said as if she’d beat him.

“You could’ve killed me.” He snatched the gun from her hands and shoved it back into his waistband.

She rolled her eyes, then shouldered past him. “I know what I’m doing.”

Clearly. She wasn’t too bad, either, but he was not about to admit that. Instead he said, “That’s why it took two shots.”

“That was my first time shooting a living thing, so I’d call that a success.”

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself.” He wouldn’t feed her ego, no matter how impressed he was.

“Well, now that you know I can shoot, can I get my gun back?”

Over his dead body. “What do you think?”

Just then, Santi showed up at the top of the hill. “What’s going on? Are you two alright?”

“Yep! Thanks to me. I just saved Frankie’s life.” She tauntingly nudged Frankie in the shoulder before running ahead to tell Santi the story.

Frankie felt his temples starting to throb. He already knew she would never let him forget the time she rescued him.

—

After two weeks at the Red Rocket, they were finally back on the road.

She had claimed his spot, next to Benny. And the two of them hadn’t shut up since reaching Concord. Benny had practically forced into a tour of the town with his insistent, “What was that? What used to be there?”

A bank. A museum about the Revolutionary War. Pinelli’s Bakery – best chocolate croissant you’ll ever taste.

Despite himself, Frankie caught his gaze following along with her finger, flipping between buildings deteriorated with weather and war and neglect. It’d taken them nearly a week to clear this place of ghouls. He wondered how many of them attended the Fourth of July parade that she was talking about.

On the way up a hill, Frankie found himself perfectly eye-level with her ass. For a second, he watched her hips sway with every step before looking away. He cursed the heat and this hill and her stupidly, sinfully tight vault suit.

They stopped for a late lunch on the outskirts of Concord, near a mossy brook with two toppled over oak trees acting as benches. Will tossed everyone a can of beans from his pack. Frankie could tell by her grimace that she was tired of eating the same meal.

“Something wrong?” Frankie challenged her and she squinted at him. She sternly shook her head before guzzling down a large helping.

“Delicious.” She licked the brown juice from her lips. His eyes tracked the movement – his jaw clenched.

“Oh shit, look.” Benny pointed downstream at where a two-headed deer was lapping up a drink. Its four antlers were submerged in green algae as fine as hair.

“Pope, is that a radstag?” Yeah – she’d started calling him Pope.

“Sure is.” Santi grinned. Once the radstag spotted the group, it immediately fled into the trees. It was a gentle, skittish giant. 250 pounds of harmless, patchy fur.

“How about you tell me more about that family farm of yours?” She nudged Santi.

Frankie tensed, the bark under his ass felt like spikes. He didn’t like talking about home with her. He didn’t like them talking about Sanctuary with her.

Luckily, Santi didn’t offer too many details, mostly focusing on the two-headed cows and wingless, naked chickens. She was enjoying it so much that Benny decided to give her a biology lesson.

“Will, tell her the cave story.” All it took was a little begging and three sets of puppy-dog eyes before Will folded and rolled up his sleeve to show her the jagged scar that ran from his forearm up to his bicep. A cricket bite. Frankie swallowed a laugh when he noticed the horror and disgust on her face after she learned crickets could grow to the same size as a small dog.

It didn’t take long before Benny was eyeing Frankie. Tell her about the bear. The slow chant of his name quickly caught on and God – he hated this stupid story.

Just like Will, he gave in. But he didn’t lift up his shirt to show her the gnarly scar on his back from the 800-pound black bear attack.

It was from years ago – they’d found a bottle of three-century old apple whiskey and got wasted. He’d been an idiot. He hadn’t been thinking when he wandered off from base camp to take a piss. Late at night, he couldn’t see what was lurking in the bushes until it was almost too late.

He would’ve been eaten alive, clean picked to the bone – if not for Tom, who showed up just in time to save him.

—

Right after lunch, the group stumbled upon two separate packs of bloatflies. You watched the guys dispose of them easily. The bugs didn’t even get a shot off.

You overheard Santi and Will worrying about ammo. Even though they had enough 10 MM and 7.62’s, they were down to a box of .45’s and a handful of shotgun shells. You decided to be nice and point them in the direction of a nearby gun shop. The building was slightly crooked, but the roof was intact. Hopefully some of the bullets could be salvaged despite being two centuries old. In an emergency, you supposed, a hang fire was better than nothing.

Inside, you debated snatching a gun from the wall, just a small, lilac pocket pistol for protection, but Frankie never let you out of his sight. Sometimes, it seemed like he could read your mind. It was infuriating.

You wondered if them viewing you as a threat was what kept them from giving you a gun. If so, that was kinda funny. No one in your entire life had ever viewed you as anything remotely close to a threat. The only other possible reason was you being their prisoner, though not even Frankie treated you as such.

If you really were their captive, you doubted Frankie would allow you to poke and jab at him as much as you did. He probably would’ve put you in your place with a threat or his fist. You were still trying to figure out exactly what these guys thought of you. Perhaps, they were telling the truth. Perhaps, they were just trying to protect you.

Rad-infected bugs had popped out from houses and shops you passed by; you didn’t have the right equipment to check the water for chemicals, let alone the one to cleanse it. At this point, making a run for it was out of the question. While you would never say it, Frankie had been right. You wouldn’t have survived out here on your own.

Before the sky went periwinkle, you set up camp in a seafoam green cabin secreted between windy, lopsided trees. You imagined it would’ve been cute before the war, before the porch was weather-worn and sunken-in; when the pond was blue instead of bone-dry. You had no idea this place even existed back here. According to Benny, they’d found it on their journey towards Concord, and marked it on their map for their way back. The windows were still boarded up from a few weeks ago, the inside was clear of any ghouls or other wasteland creatures.

The house was quaint and noisy, the wooden floorboards whined and complained even with soft steps. The raggedy furniture was covered with ancient dust, and the air stank of must and dry rot. A soft fiery glow from the wick-lanterns lit up the living room where three sleeping bags laid on the floor – the fourth, for you, was in the single bedroom.

Benny had loaned you his for the time being, but he swore it was no big deal. One of them was always on watch, anyway. They slept in shifts, so they could share until you reached Diamond City.

“They have showers there?” You asked, pleasantly surprised.

Benny chuckled. “Out of everything in Diamond City, that’s what you’re most excited about?”

“Easily.” Two weeks of filth clung to your skin. Maybe they were used to going this long without bathing, but not you. “If you haven’t noticed, this jumpsuit traps everything.”

“Trust me, we’ve noticed.” Frankie teased with a smirk. You playfully swatted at the bill of his ball cap.

“Not like we smell much better.” Will tossed you a deodorizer spray from his bag. It wouldn’t make you feel any cleaner, but at least, it helped mask the stench. Now, you smelled overwhelmingly of pine instead of BO and stale sweat.

“We’ll get you some new clothes while we’re there.” Santi patted your shoulder, then slowly pulled back. He dramatically grimaced at his hand before wiping it on his pants.

Asshole. You tossed a dried cranberry at Santi’s head, which somehow he caught in his mouth. Benny cheered and you rolled your eyes before saying, “You guys are the worst.”

“Nah, you don’t mean that.” Benny bumped into your arm, and you didn’t deny it.

—

Usually, Frankie hated his dreams. The memories. Or the ones where he was running through trees, a forest, from something or someone he couldn’t see. Sometimes, he was the one doing the chasing but he didn’t exactly know what he was running after.

However tonight, he was laying down in morning-warm grass near a dock by a pond stocked with fish. He realized it was this cabin – fixed up with fresh paint and polished windows and new shingles on the roof. He could hear a dog barking in the distance. Beside him, there was something soft and warm and he could smell lavender soap. It was a woman. He grabbed her shoulder to turn her and reveal her face –

But it all disappeared as Will shook him awake for his shift. Third shift – the worst shift in his opinion. He’d pulled the short end of the stick for this leg of the trip.

Frankie rubbed at the knot in his shoulder. His back was sore and achy. He was getting too old to be sleeping on the hard ground. The soft wick of the lantern guided him outside her door. He slumped down onto the cold floor, shivering and missing the warmth of his sleeping bag that Will was definitely enjoying.

He remembered his dream. As he looked around at the rickety house, the rotted out cabinets and moth-eaten curtains that reminded him of reality. Sometimes, he wondered if he made a mistake, if he would’ve been happier with a quiet existence in Sanctuary. A white picket fence – a warm bed – a family.

He chalked up the doubts to his age. He’d never had these thoughts when he was younger: life on the road wasn’t as easy as it used to be in his 20’s.

Frankie brought the lantern closer before carefully undressing the wound on his arm. The ghoul had gotten him good. Over the last two weeks, the angry red had faded into pale pink. Still, it would scar. Just another in the collection.

He was unraveling some fresh gauze when he heard the crinkling of shell fabric. Small murmuring coming from the other side of the door. Another nightmare. She had one almost every night.

Certain nights were worse than others, and tonight was brutal. Quickly, he wrapped his wound in gauze while she thrashed around. He hummed, just to drown out her voice. When it grew louder, he covered his ears.

He knew about nightmares. He knew the terror of reliving your trauma. The fear that came with being back there, only to wake up completely alone.

“Please - please.” The sound of her whimpering clawed at his chest. It made his hands itch. “Please,” she called out again and he felt something inside him snap.

He jumped to his feet and reached for the knob –

“Nora!”

His hand stilled and he pressed his ear against the door. She was awake – she was crying. The soft sob echoed in his ears and made his chest ache. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t rub out the knot. He listened until her breathing evened out. The sun was starting to rise when he finally relaxed.

And then, he realized – he’d never woken up Benny for his shift.

taglist: @lowlights @peoniarose @littlemisspascal @seasonschange-butpeopledont @pascalisthepunkest @heythere-mel @mando-amando @justatiredpotato

#francisco morales x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie x reader #francisco morales #pedro pascal

77 notes · View notes

findingjoynweirdstuff · 3 years

Text

Dream SMP Recap (April 9/2021) - Interrogation

Tubbo does some interrogating, hoping to find out the truth about the missing nuke. Foolish joins in.

The mysterious messages continue.

---

VOD LINKS:

HBomb94

Foolish

Tubbo

TommyInnit

Philza

Captain Puffy

Ranboo

---

- HBomb makes his way from the savannah village back to the main area. He explores around Kinoko and meets with Niki, who shows him her underground city.

- After Niki gets a grass block from an Enderman, HBomb mentions the glitched snow block he got a while back on September 24th, near his parkour challenge: the rarest block in the game. He and Niki leave the city to visit it.

- They reminisce about how HBomb joined the day of Schlatt’s inauguration, and the subject comes up of HBomb’s other characters.

- HBomb logs out and Thevir logs in. Thevir has arrived in the Dream Land. Rumors say, if you go to a special dream land, a green blob gives you more money than usual. Niki shows him around.

- Tubbo needs a way to interrogate people to figure out where the nuke went. He gathers resources to build.

- He remarks that it seems like the Egg is dying away.

SOMEONE NEEDS

TO TELL HIM

- Tubbo takes supplies from Eret and creates the desk of interrogation. He says he needs to scare people so that they take him seriously.

HE MUST GO TO

- Tubbo emphasizes that this room is for interrogation, not torture. He tries out different shaders to see what would look scariest

THE NORTH

- Tubbo turns on some acid shaders. He walks around the mansion and remarks that it’s even more cursed looking to the north.

- He goes down to the north gate to see what Foolish is up to and turns off the shaders. He decides to interrogate Foolish and tells Foolish to put all his belongings in two barrels.

- Tubbo leads Foolish to the interrogation room and tells him that he’s lost something valuable and needs Foolish to be honest with him.

IF ANYONE CAN

- When the nuke went missing, Foolish was online. Tubbo tells him only three people were on the server that day. Foolish says he was probably just building that day.

- Tubbo tells him that the missing “firework” is a very big deal. He asks, if Foolish were to steal something, what his motives would be

- Foolish says he’s just building for people. Tubbo asks about the other kingdom that Foolish is building for, and mentions that Foolish is a citizen of Snowchester. If this other kingdom wanted something of Snowchester’s, would Foolish mention anything?

- Foolish says no. He wouldn’t mention the vault or tell the people of the other kingdom about Snowchester’s “fireworks.” He only mentions things concerning the build.

- Tubbo asks if Foolish has ever seen any strange books. A very distinct book. One with a list of instructions. Foolish says no.

- Tubbo says it was more than just a valuable firework. He thinks Foolish is innocent and tells Foolish to walk with him. He leads Foolish to the confidential nuke factory and shows him.

- Foolish asks if it couldn’t have been stolen before. Tubbo tells him that the nuke was there five minutes before, and Foolish was working on the mansion.

- Foolish insists, though, that he has no motive to steal a nuke, as he’s a pacifist. Tubbo trusts him.

- Who would steal a nuke? Who would be an enemy of Snowchester?

HEAR THIS

- Foolish says there’s no one who seems to be on the war path right now.

- Tubbo tells him that he needs Foolish to gather reconnaissance on all the places he’s been building for. Foolish mentions that there’s another place that he’s been building for, but it’s a secret...there are too many voices, ears and eyes that could be listening. He’ll have to tell Tubbo later.

- Foolish suggests the Eggpire. He tells Tubbo about this event that the Eggpire is holding, a “bury the hatchet” kind of party. He, Sam and Puffy have been invited so far, but there will be more invitations.

- Whoever stole the nuke, they took a scuffed one. One with a dead man’s snitch. It leaks and poisons nature.

- Foolish asks about Sam. What about the prison guard? Tubbo says that Sam’s been couped up. Foolish says he’s worried about Sam, though. Tubbo tells him they’ll kill him someday, put him out of his misery. It wouldn’t be him.

- Tubbo and Foolish return to the interrogation room.

- Is there anyone who lives far away, where if they stored the nuke near their home, they wouldn’t know? Sam lives far away. HBomb lives far away, and Foolish built a mansion for him too, in the savannah. They should pay H a visit.

- They chase after HBomb (Thevir). They spot Niki at the Community House and think it’s H, following her through the Nether to the underground city.

I STASHED A

- They reach the city and see Niki and Thevir together. The two run, and Tubbo and Foolish pan out to look for them.

- Tubbo and Foolish speak with Niki, who insists that she doesn’t know where HBomb is. Niki says H isn’t here, Thevir is here.

- Niki explained that earlier, she showed H around her city and they went to the L’cast area, at which point HBomb’s game crashed and Thevir joined, and Niki has been showing him around.

- Tubbo and Foolish stumble across Thevir hiding in a corner and talk to Niki, who tells them it’s Thevir and not HBomb.

- Tubbo and Foolish tell Niki they lost a weapon and try to waterboard Thevir. (Thevir says that he’s been tortured before and he’s into this, so it isn’t particularly effective)

- Tubbo and Foolish leave. Thevir could possibly have connections to H.

BOOK

- They head to HBomb’s house in the savannah. Foolish asks who else has been to Snowchester? Puffy, Ranboo -- Tubbo says that wouldn’t be possible -- Sam, Fundy...

- They make it to the mansion. Tubbo asks what direction it’s in -- they find it’s east of Snowchester. They search around.

IT HAS INSTRUCTIONS

- Foolish and Tubbo listen to chat to search places. Foolish says they’re all saying to go north, but he doesn’t know why. Tubbo doesn’t think they should go north.

- They think through more possibilities as they run back through the Nether. Quackity? No, Tubbo says he’s on good terms with Quackity. They have mutual respect.

HE NEEDS TO

- Does Tubbo have any enemies? Tubbo mentions that Phil isn’t the biggest fan of him due to the ankle bracelet, but Phil doesn’t really care.

- Tubbo suggests they go to L’manburg. He’s trying to think of past relations. Who were the enemies of L’manburg?

Dream, Technoblade, and Alivebur

- Would someone take the nuke for money or for power?

Tubbo: “The power. Everything on this server is about power, Foolish.”

- They reach L’manhole.

- Eret? Foolish says that when he spoke with Eret last, he was looking to a clean start.

Tubbo: “There are some benefits to knowing your insides and out around your country.”

- Tubbo leads Foolish down to the old underground library and panic bunker. They look through the chests. There are still bits of yellow and black concrete, blackstone... Original pieces of the walls.

- He takes Foolish through the tunnel to Pogtopia. Foolish remarks that he’s never been.

Wilbur and Tommy split off during the reign of Manberg. Tubbo built this tunnel to Pogtopia, but it was eventually found out.

- They mention that things have been quite...quiet recently.

- Tubbo shows Foolish the water drop escape into the tunnel, mentioning that he used it to escape death many times.

- They reach Pogtopia.

Foolish: “When you see this, do you see this as happy or sad memories?”

Tubbo: “Conflicting memories.”

- Tubbo shows Foolish the old pit. It’s dark, the lights are out. There’s the old potato farm that Tubbo made for Technoblade. They reminisce about Tubbo and Antfrost being taken hostage.

- They head back.

WAKE UP!

- Tubbo explains to Foolish that he built the bunker before the tunnel to Pogtopia. He shows the tunnel through which Tommy and Wilbur escaped during the inauguration.

- Foolish says it seems like L’manburg was a nice little place. Tubbo shows Foolish all the various escape routes he used. Dream used to hunt him down during the first L’manburg War for independence.

- Foolish can’t imagine it. There were so many little skirmishes that used to happen. Tubbo shows him the old surface entrance to Pogtopia.

- Tubbo leads him over to Technoblade’s old secret base. A significant part of history -- the original vault.

They find that some of the chests still have supplies that haven’t been taken yet.

- Tubbo patches it up a bit

Tubbo: “This is not how this place deserves to be remembered.”

- Foolish asks -- was this a revolution, a rebellion? Tubbo says it was a reclaiming. The revolution.

HE MUST!

- Foolish and Tubbo make it back to the crater. Foolish wonders if there would ever be a community like this again. Tubbo doesn’t think so. Everything’s too complicated now, everyone’s too split apart.

Tubbo: “So all we have now is memories.”

Foolish: “Well, we could always try to make new memories.”

Tubbo: “Yeah, but it won’t be the same.”

- Foolish tells Tubbo that Bad and the others have said that they can start cleaning up the Blood Vines.

- Tubbo leads Foolish down the Prime Path, asking whether he knows who built each of the builds along the route. Tubbo tells him who built each one.

- Tubbo thinks the Final Control Room is now gone.

- He shows Foolish his and Tommy’s old nuclear war bunker.

- They then return to Snowchester and the interrogation room. They haven’t narrowed down the suspects.

WAKE UP!!!!!!

- Foolish asks, what if the nukes were never really stolen, but just moved to a different part of Snowchester?

- Tubbo tells Foolish the mansion is north of the facility. They need to pause their investigation for the time being.

- Tommy does a birthday stream

- Tommy tells Tubbo that he doesn’t think Ranboo is right for him, and getting married at 17 was a bad idea.

- Ranboo joins the call.

- Tommy leads Tubbo into the ruins of Tubbo’s old house to give him some relationship advice. He thinks Tubbo should rebuild his house and move out.

- He then takes Tubbo to his “secret place.” Ranboo’s just there in the call. He asks where all the Egg has been going. He takes Tubbo to Fundy’s house, where he’s been keeping his things.

- Tubbo gets stuck in a cobweb

- Tommy wants to create a proper vault for his things. Drista gave Tommy many seeds.

- They go to see if the barrier block staircase is still there.

- Tommy wonders what a good place to hide things would be. He mentions Pogtopia.

- Tubbo leads him to L’manhole. Ranboo appears and gives Tommy a Totem of Undying for his birthday.

- They go down to the tunnel. Tommy tells Ranboo to tell him what problems he and Tubbo are having as they reach Pogtopia.

- Tommy starts mining a room into the wall and puts his riches in a chest. He asks Ranboo to talk about his feelings.

- They ask Sam for help with a redstone door and talk about TNT cannons. Maybe they could launch one at the prison to get to Dream. Sam comes to Pogtopia. He gives Tommy a few stacks of TNT for his birthday.

- They ride the railway back to L’manburg.

- They try to blow up the POG2020/ASS2020/CRY sign and in the process explode pretty much everything but. Tommy dies and respawns a million blocks away. He can’t break the bed due to mining fatigue. The totem was used up, he just died again and lost all his things.

- The CRY sign is now the Y7 sign

- They decide to work on clearing off Ponk and Punz’s towers of the Blood Vines. Here are some of the more interesting quotes that came up...

“My sacrifices are boneless, man, just like the wings.” - Ranboo

“Moist is just wet without the commitment.” - Ranboo

“God, why did you invent impotence?” - Tommy

“Who’s the god of English?” “Shakespeare?”

“The mouth sounds are the reason why we can’t remember!” - Ranboo

“How do you reckon you’ll die?” - Tubbo

“Volcano.” - Tommy

- Afterwards, they head over to Ranboo’s house. The instant Phil logs on, Tommy logs off.

- Phil, Ranboo and Tubbo hang out at the Arctic.

- Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson wishes Tommy a happy birthday and tells him to drink tequila.

- Ranboo fills a whole barrel full of totems.

---

Upcoming Events:

- The Red Banquet

- Quackity’s lore stream on Monday

- Quackity’s business opening

- Dream’s lore video

- Ranboo’s lore stream

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts

203 notes · View notes

nightingaelic · 3 years

Note

FO4 bots meeting FNV bots. Nick, Codsworth, DiMA, Ada, maybe the gen3 synths but they're pretty much just humans so idk... Yes Man, Victor, Muggy, ED-E, FISTO, etc. This is kind of a vague request so just do whatever you want with it *shrugs*

The AI's voice echoed warmly through the large conference room at the Tops Casino, hushing the assembled crowd. "I'm Mr. New Vegas, and I want to welcome you all, dear listeners, to the 41st National Robotics Expo. Vegas has been hosting this convention since 2037, and even though we skipped a few years, we're so happy to welcome it again. Let's get back to business."

A smattering of applause with a distinct metallic edge followed, which the automated DJ paused for before continuing in a tone as warm as the desert outside. "As most exhibitions do, let's begin by introducing our various delegations. We'll start with the home team, Securitrons by RobCo: RobCo Industries, automation designed and built for the private sector."

The Securitron in the back of the room with a cowboy on its screen waved. "Present!" he piped up in a southern drawl.

The robot next to him, identical in every way except for the woman's face on its screen, patted his arm. "Thank you, Victor."

"Yeah, thanks Victor!" added the Securitron with a permanent happy face on its screen. "It's not often I'm let out of my room, but it sure is nice to see another part of the hotel!"

Nick Valentine, who was sitting in the front with his arms crossed, looked down at the miniature Securitron that was pacing next to his seat. "Shouldn't you be back there with them?"

"With the House Industries bunch?" The cartoon-faced coffee mug on its screen looked up at him with an unchanging smile, but every word dripped with contempt. "Don't lump me in with them, gumshoe."

Nick frowned. "What's your name again?"

The robot gestured at its screen. "I'll give you three guesses."

"Cheeky little-"

"Ssshh." DiMA looked over from Nick's other side. "We're guests here, Nick."

"Next up we have the RobCo eyebots, both classic design and Duraframe-upgraded models," Mr. New Vegas continued, completely oblivious to the chatter in the room. A pair of eyebots on the left side of the room, one in bright Atom Cats paint and the other with haphazard shielding including a car license plate, began bobbing up and down and beeping ecstatically. A third model, outfitted with some kind of modification that crackled with blue energy, let loose a sonic blast that shook dust off the ceiling. The crowd tittered, but the courier accompanying the license-plated eyebot just laughed.

"I know folks, I know, it's a day full of excitement, but let's get through our list," Mr. New Vegas said smoothly, evidently worried that the eyebot was going to shake the room's speakers loose. "Moving on to the assaultrons, something you don't see often out here in the Mojave. Welcome, ladies."

"The pleasure's all mine," replied KL-E-0 from her seat behind Nick. The Goodneighbor trader was reclining precariously on the conference room chair, with her frame's considerable weight straining the piece of furniture's limits. She didn't appear particularly concerned though, given the way she was examining her claws the way an uninterested woman examines her nails.

"Preliminary adjustments to statistical models complete," added PAM, who was seated next to KL-E-0 in a much more attentive position. "Commencing introduction. I was, am, and will most likely be an assaultron."

"An astute calculation," agreed Ada. She was standing next to PAM and KL-E-0, as her own modified frame would not let her sit down.

"Objection." A mechanical voice rang out from the back. "Petition to acquire the modified assaultron model into the protectron class. Model clearly uses more protectron parts than assaultron."

"Stand down, Mr. First Mate," ordered the exasperated sentry bot parked next to the protectron that had spoken up. "We must show a certain measure of decorum, in these waters."

Ada rotated her head all the way around to face the first mate. "Acknowledged. I am willing to re-categorize myself if requested."

"Baby, don't let him talk you into anything you're not comfortable with," KL-E-0 replied, uncrossing her metal legs.

"Next we have the workhorses of the robotic world, the protectrons," Mr. New Vegas cut in, once again oblivious.

"Sound off!" the first mate ordered.

"Howdy pardner! Primm Slim at your service!"

"ナンニシマスカ?"

"I'm NIRA, your friendly Nuka-World Informational Robotic Assistant. Is this your first visit to Nuka-World?"

"Fully Integrated Security Technetronic Officer active and reporting for duty."

Nick made a face after the last one. "Fisto? What kind of-"

"And rounding out the RobCo set, our sentry bot representative, who I understand is responsible for our Commonwealth friends' safe arrival."

"A fine voyage for a fine vessel!" Captain Ironsides said jovially. "Our mission was a glorious success, the first of many for the pride of our navy!"

"Thank you, Captain," Mr. New Vegas replied, with a hint of amusement in his announcer's voice. "Now for RobCo's greatest partner and competitor, General Atomics International: The finest industrial robots in the world!"

The collection of Mister Handy and Miss Nanny robots on the right side of the room perked up and began applauding. "Spot on!" Codsworth said, at the front of the crowd.

"Let's start where General Atomics started, with the classic Mister Handy model. I see we have a few who made the trip with the USS Constitution."

"Present!" Codsworth answered.

"Fresh lemonade here!" cried Deezer at the same time, attempting to distribute dented cans to everyone within reach of him.

"Don't burden this lot wiv your swill, Deezer," said Whitechapel Charlie, collecting the cans as quickly as they were handed out.

"Wonderful, wonderful. Now let's hear it for the ladies again, our elegant Miss Nanny robots!"

"Hello!" said Pearl and Miss Edna, bobbing in place and prettily snapping their little claws.

"Merci beaucoup," added Curie, who was seated with the group, despite having shed her Miss Nanny frame in favor of a synth body months ago. Nick grinned.

"Objection." The first mate, despite not having a face, appeared absolutely scandalized by this development. Captain Ironsides was having none of it, however, and bopped the protectron on the head with his minigun arm.

"Maybe I should look into getting a synth upgrade," Mr. New Vegas mused. "Finishing out General Atomics are the robobrains, once human like any wastelander, now showcasing the best in technology that pre-war America can offer."

"Thank you, thank you so much," said Gilda Broscoe, who breezed up to the room's stage. She had decorated her shiny brain dome for the occasion with an enormous hat sprouting peacock feathers, and she grabbed the stage's microphone with practiced ease. It wasn't on, but that didn't appear to be enough to stop her. "Thank you all so much for this opportunity. I'd like to thank my studio, Starlight Cinemas, and of course my beloved Keith McKinney-"

"Get off the stage!" yelled the other present robobrain, Jezebel. "My orders from the Mechanist didn't include listening to you drone on about your fantastic former life!"

"-of course, I feel I have to thank my dear Santiago, Santiago, you were such an inspiration even if you couldn't bear the thought of us parting-"

Curie shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Mademoiselle, might it not be better to wait and see-"

"Get off the stage, you old bat!" yelled Muggy, who appeared to share Jezebel's feelings.

"-and I'd like to thank that bitch Vera Keyes for passing on the role so that I could give it my own, personal touch. Thank you everyone, and good night!" Gilda let go of the microphone and curtseyed as best she could with treads. A few robots clapped, while the courier in the back stiffened and looked at the robobrain actress with wide eyes.

"Only one category left, folks, and then we can start the planned festivities," Mr. New Vegas went on. "Now for a Commonwealth Institute of Technology original, the prototype synth model. Only two in the world, and we're lucky enough to have both of them with us today."

DiMA turned around to wave to the other bots, while Nick sank deeper into his chair and pulled his hat down. "Christ."

"Objec-" The first mate didn't even get the full word out before Captain Ironsides bonked him again.

"And that concludes the introductory portion of the expo!" Mr. New Vegas paused. "Unless there's anyone I've inadvertently left out."

"Me!"

The curtain on the stage behind Gilda flew open, revealing a toaster placed on top of a stool. Gilda let out a theatrical gasp and rolled backwards, giving way to the appliance's maniacal laughter.

"Ahahaha! I am online once again!" the toaster cried. "Tremble, world, before my electric heating coil of doom! You thought you could silence me by drowning me in a bathtub, but I swore you would rue the day you had bread and no way to toast it!"

The courier in the back jumped out of their chair. "Oh shit."

"That's right, buddy, the day of bread has come!" With a ding, two slices of C-4 plastic explosive popped up from the toaster's slots. "Cower before my nuclear fire!"

Mild panic swept the room of robots. Gilda fainted dead away on the stage. Nick eased up off his chair. "Talk about delusions of grandeur. I've seen more intimidating appliances in a scrap heap."

"How dare you!" the toaster screamed. "I am the scourge of all small appliances and the bogeyman that keeps lesser toasters awake at night!"

"You're the scourge of breakfast, I'll give you that," Nick answered with a smirk. He tried not to draw attention to the courier that was inching their way to the stage. "But you're low on the ladder of bogeymen, compared to the ones I've dealt with."

"NAME THE ONES MORE FEARSOME THAN I!" the toaster demanded.

"An interesting development here at the Tops, folks," Mr. New Vegas commented. "The crowd appears to have been taken hostage by a rogue toaster."

Nick started counting off adversaries on his metal hand. "Well, there's the Rust Devils, the Gunners a few times, the Pack and all of their angry critters, the Disciples and the Operators, can't forget the Triggermen and Skinny Malone, plus his doll Darla..."

The toaster let out another frenzied laugh. "Nothing but bags of meat, easily toasted in-"

Its speech died mid-sentence, and the courier emerged from behind the curtain holding its electrical cord. "That takes care of that."

Nick winked at them. "Good on you, kid. Should we get on with the shindig?"

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fallout 4 #fnv #fo4 #robots #no I'm not tagging everyone that sounds like a lot of work

58 notes · View notes

hailbop1701 · 3 years

Text

Curing a Rainy Day

A sort of five times Star Trek gen fic for your viewing pleasure. I mentioned I would write it but please be aware that I wrote this on my phone late at night and I has no beta. Typos and mistakes will be found. 🤣

-H❤🖖

Word Count: 2,166

Sulu:

Leonard McCoy wasn’t a huge touchy-feely type of man. Well, that’s what he really wants folks to think anyway. He was a doctor and that meant it was his oath-bound duty to cure what ails his patients. Whether it was from a physical malady or an emotional one. The first time he initiated his “Rainy Day Cure” --title courtesy of his daughter-- to one of the command crew he was surprised that it was Sulu of all people. If Len were being honest he thought it would have been Jim. Sure he had hugged the kid in the past but he always let Jim be the one to initiate contact. The reason why is complicated and a story for another time.

When he found him the young pilot was huddled alone in Observation Room Five, his shoulders hunched, his down so his eyes were hidden and mind lightyears away. Leonard had a feeling he knew where. The chaos after Khan and Marcus had caused a lot of damage, and not all of it was physical. They were all still healing even a year later. They had left Kronos not three hours ago and according to the mission report, Sulu’s younger sister was…

Not who she claimed to be. ‘Yuki,’ McCoy recalled her name lamely as he made his way loudly over to the depressed man.

She revealed that she worked for Section 31 and was determined to fix the Federation the right way. Though the term “Right way” is skewed for many folks. War was almost started, again and the Enterprise had to stop it, again. Section 31 now had the last little pebble of Red Matter and was holding it like a…” Nuclear deterrent” as the old saying goes.

Shaking his head Leonard pushed recent events to the back of his mind and continued on his own mission. Plopping down on the couch that faced the giant window of stars, McCoy leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees.

He didn’t offer his apologies or sympathies, he knew Sulu didn’t want them. So they sat in silence. Sulu just shook his head and looked up at the doctor with confusion and betrayal in his eyes. “I don’t - I” he stopped swallowing and the helmsman looked so young Leonard didn’t even think about it until after he had already done it.

He wrapped an arm over Hikaru’s shoulder and squeezed. Sulu stilled for a moment before relaxing and saying what needed to be said, a weight slowly lifting off his shoulders and his chest.

Scotty:

Leonard and Scotty were both having a terrible terrible time. The cold sucked in Leonard’s opinion and being trapped on an ice ball of a planet only confirmed his feelings. Looking over at the Enterprises Chief Engineer, Leonard had a feeling that he wasn’t alone in his thoughts and feelings.

The Scot was curled into a tight ball up against the last running console the entire ‘Fleet base had. He was shivering and muttering to himself, glaring at the distress signal he had rigged up. There was nothing they could do but wait. Rubbing his hands together to warm them Leonard moved toward the console and slid down to the floor next to Scotty. Touching shoulders with Scotty, McCoy tucked his hands under his arms and sighed. There was nothing he could really say to ease the engineer’s anxiety -- which stemmed from Delta Vega no doubt -- so he simply let his presence be enough.

Scotty glanced at Leonard to see that he was looking back at him with calm understanding. Grunting Scotty curled himself closer to the CMO and let the man wrap an arm around his shoulders. They didn’t speak a word and only moved when they heard the sounds of the rescue party on the other side of the sealed doors.

Chekov:

Pavel Chekov was the youngest of the command crew, so he was automatically protected and treated like the youngest sibling of a giant family. The navigator understood that his friends didn’t mean to and that it was just sometimes a reflex but he was getting damn tired of it. Today was his birthday, he had finally turned twenty! Chekov was so pleased to find that after the incident with Khan he was being treated like he should. There was one person who always treated him like he was young and precious.

Pavel found that he didn’t mind so much. Doctor McCoy treated almost everyone that way -- even though he wasn’t that much older than the rest of them -- in an almost fatherly manner. A true caretaker. Chekov allowed the behavior from no one but McCoy.

Leonard walked into “Rec Room Two” taking in the crowd with a softening scowl. A small wrapped parcel gripped in his hand. He looked down at the present, weighing it in his hands carefully. With a sigh, McCoy strode through the room looking for the birthday boy. Jim waved at him wildly from the other side of the room a huge grin on his face. Narrowing his eyes, Leonard saw that his captain wasn’t in fact drunk at all. Grunting in approval he smiled at Chekov who was hurrying over to greet him.

“Happy Birthday Pavel,”

Chekov grinned and his eyes widened at the present presented to him. Leonard gestured for him to open it and the young man did excitedly. The wrapping paper littered the floor a long black box in its place. Slowly opening the box the navigator knocked a silver antique pocket knife into his hands. Examining it closely he looked up at McCoy in confusion.

Leonard shifted nervously on his feet. Clearing his throat he pulled out a similar from his belt. “My daddy gave me this one to match his when I turned twenty. I know your pa wasn’t around as you grew up and so I thought…” his sentence fell into silence. For once Leonard McCoy was at a loss for words. Pavel quickly wiped a stray tear from his eye and grinned at his friend holding onto the gift tightly.

“Thank you doctor!” he said gratefully and Leonard understood that it was for more than just a knife. A small smile graced the CMO’s lips and pulled the kid in for a hug.

With anyone else, Pavel would have been annoyed. This was an exception.

Uhura:

Leonard was tired. He longed for his bed but as he looked around at all of the injured crew he pushed the longing away. There was no time for it. Rubbing the blurry fatigue from his eyes he pushed on. Triage, surgery, aftercare. He really didn’t truly stop to breathe until the middle of gamma shift when the ship was sleepy and quiet. The only noise was the soft beeps and whistles of monitors. His nurses quietly whispering and working.

Christine hours ago told him to stop worrying and to go to bed already but something in him just couldn’t. Blinking dumbly down at the PADD in his hands he sighed and signed off on the next round of Spock’s antibiotics. During the Enterprises most recent scuffle the bridge took a hit and the science station exploded sending the first officer flying, earning him a ticket to medical.

After the fight was over and things had only calmed down to a trickle of wounded instead of a flash flood, Nyota Uhura breezed through sickbay’s doors. She waited patiently and even helped where she could. When Spock came out of surgery and was placed in a private room she immediately went to his side and hasn’t moved an inch since. Jim would have been right beside her if he could afford to. But it appears the admiralty wanted words and had kept him busy since. McCoy had barely just convinced him to get some sleep saying that he would call if anything changes.

That was three hours ago.

Leonard walked -- though Nyota would say shuffled -- into Spock’s room, his eyes going straight to the monitors above the bed. The half Vulcan was resting peacefully. McCoy knew it was only a matter of time before he woke and would go into a healing trance. Something that should be monitored anyway. Leonard quietly wondered who he would grant the opportunity to slap Spock awake this time…

“Leonard!”

The sound of his name made the CMO snap his head in Uhura’s direction. Her eyes were fire, filled with frustration, exhaustion, and worry. McCoy winced, “Sorry Nyota, guess my mind wandered a bit,” he said somewhat sheepishly. Her expression softened a flash of guilt passing through her features.

“You need more rest. You’re going to run yourself into the ground at this rate,” she scolded half-heartedly. McCoy gave her a small smile and a shrug,

"I'll rest when I'm not needed." He whispered and badly covered up a yawn. The hidden meaning behind his words wasn't lost on the linguist though. She pressed her lips into a tight line deciding not to comment. Instead, she rested her gaze on Spock once more her hand inches away from his.

So deep in thought, Nyota hadn't even realized that McCoy had left and come back, a tray with a couple of hypos in his always unwavering hands. Catching her eyes he gave her another encouraging smile. He took care to tell her everything he was doing and how it would help keep infection away. Leonard knew he didn't have to explain but he felt it necessary to fill the quiet with "Illogical chatter" as Spock would surely call it.

Uhura was so tired and so frazzled that she was startled to find the CMO crouching in front of her with concern all over his face. "You need to get some rest Nyota. I can have a cot brought in if you'd like…"

Uhura, let a few tears fall before she bottled it up again. She shook her head wiping her face, "I'm alright Leo. Everything is just catching up to me…" she mumbled with a watery chuckle. Leonard snorted at the nickname she had given him,

"Just let me know darlin' "

And without truly thinking about it he pulled her into a hug. It only took Uhura a second to process what was happening before she wrapped her arms around him tightly. A genuine smile breaking across her face. The first time in hours she felt content, safe, and able to truly breathe.

Jim:

James T. Kirk was a touchy-feely type of man. Leonard supposed it may be from a less than stellar childhood. So whenever Jim would pull him into a one-armed hug or slapped his back or even leaned up against him, McCoy would let him. He would definitely bitch but only half-heartedly, Leonard needed to keep up appearances after all.

So when they found Jim partially dead, hanging from his wrists in a cave all smirks and charm…

Well, no one batted an eye when -- after he made sure that the man would live -- Leonard pulled his best friend in for a hug. Jim just laughed, laid an arm over McCoy's shoulder, and leaned into the hug.

"I only had to get tortured and offered to an alien God for you to hug me. Good to know,"

"Shut up Kid,"

Spock:

No one ever thought the words McCoy, Spock, and hug would ever be uttered but stranger things have happened on the Enterprise.

No stranger than an alien device that turned back time. In a physical sense anyway. Leonard looked down at his adolescent hands and sighed with a heavy eye roll. "Not this again," he grumbled with a shudder.

Looking around the room he saw Jim shouting at Mudd who had bought the alien weapon and decided to point it at him and Spock. McCoy tilted his head, his eyes going comically wide.

Spock!

Where was the green-blooded rugrat? Leonard looked around and sighed in relief at the sight of the first officer. He was hidden under a rickety wooden table. Crouching down Leonard gave Spock a small smile, he waved and gestured for the Vulcan to come closer. Apparently the younger you go the further your mind goes with it. Spock had a mentality of a...of well, a toddler. He couldn't have been more than two.

Spock stared at Leonard intensely before darting out and crashing into his legs. McCoy stumbled a little before he got his footing. Spock looked up at him with wide scared eyes, tears threatening to fall. 'Must have gotten all Vucan-y at four or five,' Leonard thought as he picked up his friend.

Leonard pulled Spock close, hugging him to his chest whispering softly. Spock seemed confused for only a moment before he buried his head into the young CMO's neck.

Jim of course saw it all and later under the threat of meeting his end via an airlock kept his mouth firmly shut. The only thing the Starship Captain said -- which everyone agreed-- Doctor Leonard McCoy could absolutely cure a rainy day.

Tags:

@lauraaan182, @chickadee-djarin, @cowenby2, @bluesclues-1234, @sayuri9908,

#star trek aos #leonard mccoy #leonard bones mccoy #jim kirk #james t kirk #spock #mister spick #nyota uhura #pavel chekov #hikaru sulu #montgomery scott #fanfiction #hailey the queen of typos

43 notes · View notes