#still cackling over the sniper dude
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Best Hunt Moments This Week
Somehow two tapping the dude (headsman??) on top of the lighthouse from this position with the nitro. I think this is over 300m and I will never top it again for distance. (Picture recreation after the match when I realized I had killed him and not that he stepped backwards into the protected zone which would've saved him. Like, did he just stand there in shock that he got tagged??? I was shocked I got him on the first one since I guessed, so maybe?)
Fish wearing a skull wearing a hat, 'nough said!
In a typical game of PvP I kill somewhere between 3-6 monster NPCs and usually die earning half the maybe 1000 XP I earned. When I play PvE and let everyone else murderize each other, my results are only a little bit different. (and I think this was the lowest amount of money and BB I found in the game that whole night, an earlier PvE game I walked out with around $500 and 6 bonds, I didn't think to screenshot that I was too busy laughing over the outcome)
Anyhow, I'm sure people who are into the PvP side think I'm a rat out there waiting to steal their hard earned bounties but I honestly do a thousand times better when I don't seek them out. Like, if I stumble into another hunter or hear them while I'm collecting my 5th envelope of the game, sure, I'll fight! Once I get nerco back I'll be more willing to fight too. Until then, it'll continue being snipers feeling too cocky taking and missing a pot shot at me and then dying to something ridiculous like a nitro express rifle being toted around by someone who doesn't even have dynamite unlocked.
Anyhow it's been a real hunt giveth few days so I'm 100% expecting to die frustrated over and over for the next week so the taketh portion will even out again lol.
#long post#hunt showdown#still cackling over the sniper dude#like if he hadn't shot at me he would've been able to camp that extraction well#instead he was bored and took at least two shots at me missing by miles#and then I hunkered down where he couldn't see me and took a guess at his position#bang bang down#I wish I'd been recording!#I wish I coulda seen his face afterwards going: a fucking TWO STAR with NITRO got me from WHERE!?!?!?#I am genuinely not great at this game#but when I do good I do outrageously and impressively good lol#I only had the nitro because I prestiged#and chose to unlock a legendary skin and got the black mamba#I'd otherwise have no way to fight back at rank 5-7 (forget which one but it was baby status)#also I'm sure the fish has been there forever but I was super tickled to see if for the first time lol#I stood there giggling ''howdy howdy howdy'' for way too long#also spent too long laughing about me just wanting to play PvE with the spice of other players might shoot me instead of PvP#like I'm not playing the game wrong just not the way the vast majority of people do :p#and this is why I love rain maps lol#anyhow about to go back in so thoughts and prayers I guess hunt gods about to demolish me; I can feel it
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I have a bunch of 2k3/Rise crossovers in the brain but no time to draw/write them all right now so I’m gonna write out the ideas here and y’all are free to take them if you want em tbh. 2k12 turts not included because I watched like two YouTube compilations of that show and it made me feel like that one meme of a guy standing at his window with a broken expression smoking a cigarette, but feel free to adapt this with them in mind if you wanna. Enjoy <3
What if they had a paintball tournament.
Obviously everyone is paired up in their colors and given the paintballs of that color, and they play in an area full of abandoned buildings (hey 2k3 fans remember the rat king? Yeah that’s where they play). Blue team seems to have the upper hand at first, but Rise Leo keeps being a loud show-off and dragging 2k3 Leo into it (he complains at first, since HEY that’s kinda ruining their stealthiness, but gradually he joins into the teasing and the jokes and the overall teenager behavior, and it’s nice. It’s fun. He rarely gets to act his age and Rise Leo has noticed this and absolutely becomes an enabler for him).
The Mikeys start the fight off covered in warpaint. This doesn’t bode well for them because orange isn’t exactly a subtle color, but hey, their style is loud and quick anyways, they rush anyone they encounter and are gone within seconds, targets unmistakably hit. Inbetween ambushing their brothers, they talk about superheroes of their respective eras, and 2k3 Mikey brags about being the Turtle Titan (and Rise Mikey is already making plans in his head, when he gets home he’s gonna find a cape, he’s gonna make himself an outfit, he’s gonna.. have to find a way to sneak it past Raph, probably, but Leo will LOVE it), and they try to one-up each other’s moves the entire time. You can tell where in the warzone they are by listening for the occasional mischievous cackling.
The Red team. Oh my goodness. I need to put them under a microscope. They need to interact so so so much dude. I think at first they kinda cramp each other’s style because where 2k3 Raph is impulsive and always just a second away from throwing hands, Rise Raph has a more levelheaded approach, and so they don’t do all that well in the tournament at first because 2k3 Raph keeps bitching about how Rise Raph is just like his Leo, and ironically, Rise Raph says just the same thing about him and Rise Leo. Thankfully though, this eventually leads to them realizing that OH, maybe they gotta balance out the best of both. After that, though, they become an unstoppable force. If they get surrounded they simply break through a wall and escape. They keep trying to sacrifice themselves for each other which for sure leads to one of those “avenge me” moments as one of them lays on the ground covered in paint and pretending to die dramatically.
And, of course. The purple team. The scientists, the inventors. It takes Rise Donnie a little over five minutes to turn his paintball gun into a paintball sniper rifle. 2k3 Don, meanwhile, sets up motion sensors along a perimeter they’ve planned out, and they hunker down in a building with no windows and only one entrance. Anyone who would want to get to them would first have to appear in said entrance, making themselves an absolutely un-missable target. While they work, of course they discuss their newest ideas and creations, how could they not! Every few minutes one of them goes “how did you do that” and the other infodumps about their thought process, until they stop paying attention to the game altogether. Thanks to 2k3 Don’s more proper training, though, he does still spot when the orange team tries to sneak in and catch them unaware, but it matters little when from the other side, Rise Raph crashes through the wall, followed by his teammate, momentarily creating clouds of dust that make it hard to see each other. In the ensuing chaos, the Mikeys stand back to back and blindly shoot around in a hope to hit someone, the purple team sneaks away before anyone can notice, and Rise Raph takes several direct shots at the cost of shielding 2k3 Raph, but it’s worth it, because just then - Orange team runs out of ammo. In panic, they try to get away, and it is then that 2k3 Raph emerges from behind his teammate and mercilessly shoots both of them from a point blank range. (This is also where the tragic avenge me scene happens lmao)
So now it’s team Purple and team Blue. It was 2k3 Leo’s idea to wait and watch the other teams eliminate each other, and it was Rise Leo’s idea to sit a safe distance away from the purple team’s hideout with popcorn. They watch as two teams run in and a third team emerges, having to abandon the safety of their hideout, and like shadows they follow, waiting for an opportunity to strike, getting closer and closer, until Leo finally gives the signal and Nardo jumps out with a victorious war cry, shooting both members of the purple team and hitting the marks- or.. mark? The form of Rise Donnie buzzes and flickers, and then the projection vanishes completely as Don, covered in blue paint, turns around and cackles, waving a small monitor on his wrist at the two confused Leos. It dawns on 2k3 Leo first, the realization, but before he can warn his teammate, both of their shells are hit with a SPLAT! and a splash of purple, and a victorious if somewhat unhinged laugh comes from a building nearby, “I can’t believe you fell for that!” Rise Donnie shouts, standing on a rooftop with his paintball sniper rifle. “Once again, my genius leads to an easy victory!”
“Wrong.” Leos and Donatello gasp as a second figure appears on the rooftop, a flash of red, and 2k3 Raph stands there, his paintball gun aimed directly at Donnie. “Sorry, brainiac, but I promised my teammate I’d avenge him.”
Donnie turns around, panicked, and tries to negotiate. “W-wait, Raph, c’mon, maybe we can both win? Let’s be reasonable about this!” he pleads.
But Raph scoffs. “Ha! How dare you assume I could be reasoned with,” he smirks, and pulls the trigger.
Cheers can be heard from where the Mikeys and Rise Raph had come to observe the fight, and 2k3 Raph gets a hearty pat on his back from his teammate that almost shoves him off the roof. He immediately brags to his Michelangelo and gets a handful of paint smeared across his face, but team Red is ultimately declared victorious. They head home immediately after by demand of 2k3 Leo and Rise Donnie as neither of them is coping well with having paint on their skin, and celebrate by running around with a garden hose. It’s a good day, that one.
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Trip
Honestly, Sombra'd never thought she'd see the day when the araña was allowed on something as human as a vacation. It had taken a little convincing but she reminded Akande that Widowmaker was the single most deadly sniper in existence (in her opinion anyway, there was that Hanzo dude but he used a bow and arrow in the good Year of Our Lord 2076 and she just couldn't make sense of that and Ana Amari had like one eye), and she was the world's preeminent hacker and if the two of them weren't gonna be fine on their own, then literally no one would.
And she was starting to have her doubts 'cause Widow kept playing very strange Russian music with screaming women in between a mix of Sombra's mariachi, narcocorridos, romanticas, and esoteric techno music ranging from dubstep to ambient and the vibes in the car had to be insane. But the top was down and their hair was whipping in the wind and it wasn't that bad, actually.
The hacker glanced over at the Widow, away from the road; she was sitting, looking straight ahead in this tense way as if she was thinking about attacking something in front of them. It was kind of funny. She chuckled and looked at the road again. It was empty and kind of hot, but an Italian summer didn't hold a candle to Latin America in the slightest. She was gonna be so tan. For like, nobody to enjoy, but whatever.
"You know, araña, you can relax. I don't think anybody's gonna shoot us. Probably."
"I am relaxed. This is me, relaxing." Sombra looked over again and the Widow had not moved a fuckin' inch, still staring straight ahead.
This time, Sombra's laugh was a cackle with a snort at the end of it. "Okay güey, I'm not gonna argue with you. Just promise me you won't kill anybody at the bar? I want like, one cocktail that doesn't end in murder." She paused thoughtfully. "Also maybe somebody's daughter to take to the hotel."
"This, I cannot promise." Sombra couldn't see it but she could hear the assassin grimace at her addition. "S'il vous plait, quietly. I don't want to be sick."
"Zis I cannot promizzeee," she mocked and broke into a fit of giggles.
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5 minutes with Bucky
You’d been pinned down behind a crumbling wall for most of the fighting, unable to even attempt to pick off any of the enemy. The sniper covering you was unbelievable.
“Have you been hit?” Sam’s panicked voice came through your earpiece, and you shook your head before realizing he couldn’t see you.
“The sniper is up on the east tower is unrelenting. I can’t move. They even shot my boot,” you complained. “I need you to take them out. You know, in your spare time.”
Sam’s cackle reassured you. “Let me see if Redwing can take them out.” A few seconds later, the unmistakable sound of the drone exploding made your shoulders tense, and then release in defeat.
“I’m on it,” Bucky growled. Bucky was no fan of yours. He treated you like he found you a burden to the team, and was always short with you. You’d say he was cranky about you, but cranky was a description you reserved for toddlers. Your dislike for one another was mutual.
“Don’t put yourself out. I know I’m just deadweight to you, Barnes,” you growled back.
“Easier to get you to walk out than carry out your sorry ass,” he snarled. There was a grunt, and thud and the distinct rapport of his gun. “Sniper is dead. The sooner you contribute to this clusterfuck, the sooner we can leave.”
You scrabbled up to your knees and peered over the wall, and thankfully, no shots came from the east tower. You dashed between obstacles, keeping hidden, until you were back to the main action, and quickly picked off a few goons. You heard the enemy trying to sneak up on you, but weren’t fast enough to stop the blade that slipped into your back with enough force to prevent you from crying out. Thankfully, your instinct wasn’t to collapse, but shoot the bastard. He slumped at your feet behind you, pulling the blade from your back as he fell. Your tac jacket was tight enough that it compressed the wound, and you fought on until you were able to escape back to the extraction point.
XXX
When the helicopter arrived, you pushed yourself off the tree you were leaning against and dropped heavily onto the floor of the vehicle, grimacing.
“Get us out of here, Sam,” you groaned.
“Hard day’s work, princess?” Bucky rolled his eyes. You flipped him the finger and closed your eyes, trying to think about anything other than the pain in your back.
XXX
“Go hit the showers,” Sam suggested when you landed. You nodded and pushed yourself to your feet, stumbling across the helipad toward door to the stairs. You faltered a little on the top stair, but made your way down to your floor and into your room before you peeled off your uniform and headed toward the shower. You stunk, the mixed fragrance of sweat, blood and whatever chemicals had been in the plant clinging to your skin.
You turned the shower on and stepped in, the heat making you dizzy. You slid down the wall, leaving a trail of blood behind you, and closed your eyes. Just a quick nap in the warmth of the shower, and you would feel tip-top again.
XXX
Bucky squinted in the mark on the floor inside the helicopter. There was a dark stain where you’d been laying. He reached down with his bare hand and rubbed his fingers across the sticky fluid, holding it up to his face. It smelled metallic. It only took a split second to realize it was blood. Your blood.
“Sam! She somehow got hit!” He took off at a run, skipping three and four stairs at a time as he vaulted down to your floor. Using his left side, he smashed through your door. He only paused long enough to hear the shower running, and notice the absence of your usual offkey singing before dashing toward the bathroom.
He pushed into the shower stall and found you. Your blood pooled around the drain, mixing with the water and you were pale. You looked so close to death, he didn’t even notice your nudity, scooping you up in his arms.
You roused just for a moment. “Bucky?”
“Why didn’t you say you’d been hit?” He growled, looking in the mirror to figure out where the blood was coming from. He pressed a towel against the wound and carried you out of your rooms, heading in the direction of the infirmary.
“Buck, I’m naked,” you mumbled.
“Yeah?”
“Why aren’t you? I bet you look amazing. All those muscles. Your abs especially. You should be naked if I’m naked. It’s only fair.” You were rambling. Bucky’s heart jerked, panicking. Rambling was bad.
“Sweetheart, you’re injured.” His voice vibrated against your chest and you leaned into him.
“Just be gentle then,” you murmured before losing consciousness completely.
XXX
It was overwhelmingly bright, making you think maybe you were dead and in some cosmic waiting room. You opened one eye, and squinted against the brightness. You tried to reach up to rub your face, and got caught on something, a sharp quick pain to your hand making you flinch.
“Ow, fuck.”
“You gave us a scare, kid.” Sam’s voice was smooth and soothing.
“I got stabbed.”
“I know,” he laughed. “Hold tight, I’m gonna go get Bucky.”
“Why?”
“Dude is over 100, and you scared another twenty years off him,” Sam laughed. “He’ll want to know you’re awake.”
You opened your eyes and took in the infirmary room. You found the controls on the bed and raised your head, squirming up a little so you weren’t so uncomfortable. You hadn’t noticed Sam leave until Bucky dashed in.
When he saw you sitting up, he stopped and walked the rest of the way to the bedside slowly. He dropped into the seat Sam had vacated and stared you down.
“You should have told us.” His opening was on point.
“As if you care.” There was a cup full of ice chips on your overbed table, and you took a mouthful
“You’re a goddamn idiot, you know that?” he snapped. You choked on your ice, and he jumped up, leaning you forward to pound on your back. You pulled out of his hold, still coughing and threw the cup at him.
“Jesus, Barnes, if you hate me so fucking much, why are you even here?” You pushed him away and he fell back into the chair, looking surprised and hurt.
“Who said I hate you?” He asked, his voice quiet, and for the first time probably ever, gentle.
“Every goddamn mission we go on, you treat me like I’m deadweight that you have to babysit. You’ve made it abundantly clear that you can’t stand me. What I can’t figure out is if it’s because I’m a woman, and you’re some oldtimey gentleman misogynist or if it’s something about me specifically,” you snapped. “You should leave, Barnes. I’m tired.”
Bucky shook his head and leaned forward. “I’m only going to say this once, so make sure you’re listening, princess.”
You closed your eyes, for some reason wanting to cry. “I don’t hate you. You take unnecessary risks in order to prove yourself when you really have nothing to prove, and that scares me. You’re more frustrating than Stevie was. You do crazy shit, and suddenly I can’t breathe because I think you’re going to die.”
You opened your eyes, narrowing them as he spoke.
“And maybe I am a backward old man? I don’t think I am? Nat’s probably the best assassin I’ve ever seen, and she’s a woman. And the Dora, the Dora are the best military unit in the world hands down. I think it’s just you. You bring it out in me -”
“I bring out your World War Two sexist dames are just for keeping at home shit?” You interrupted. Bucky laughed.
“No, princess, you don’t get it. I want to protect you. I want to make sure you come home,” he sighed.
“Why?”
“So that maybe someday I can tell you how much you mean to me,” he blurted out.
“And why would you tell me now?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.
“When I carried you here, you told me you wanted to see me naked. I figure, no one wants to see someone they hate naked, so maybe you have some complicated feelings too,” he shrugged. A single tear rolled down your cheek, and he reached over to wipe it away. “I was scared you might die. And I’d never told you. And you’re the first dame- first woman I’ve felt like this about since I can’t remember when, and -”
“Do you think there’s enough room in this bed for you to climb in?” you interrupted. He dropped his sweatshirt on the chair and kicked off his shoes. You wiggled a little trying to make space for you. He slid in beside you and tucked his arm up behind your neck, allowing you to curl into him.
“We’re idiots, Buck,” you murmured, laying a hand on his chest. He grasped the hand in his and brought it to his mouth, gently kissing your palm.
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Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 171 prt 1
171
“Working” beside Pidge, Pidge had borrowed his work phone to download the coding to her computer. Keith reluctant to let the device go, but useless at the tech side of things so could only follow her lead on these kinds of things. Distracted by thoughts of Lance, Keith knew he was being a little pathetic missing his boyfriend who’d only gone to get coffee.
“Dude, you’re breathing in my space”
“Should I hold my breath?”
Keith rolled his chair back, leaning back and poking Pidge with his foot when she sighed at him
“I won’t stop you if you want to”
“Harsh. I’m wounded”
“You’ve spent too much time around Lance... How is Lance?”
Keith saw that sideways less than sneaky misdirect
“He’s been up and down”
“He didn’t seem okay”
“He’s been better. I think he’ll feel better when the summoning is over and we have Curtis back”
“I think we’ll all feel better when that happens. Matt told me what happened”
Of course Matt had
“He was pretty shaken by it, but he doesn’t blame Curtis”
Pidge sighed, turning her chair to him
“Keith, did we do the right thing? Taking him to the house. I saw the look on your face and I don’t know what to think”
“Lance says he doesn’t know if he feels better or not... You... you were key to getting him back. While I was useless”
“You were pretty useless but that’s because you’re a hands on kind of guy. It’s weird... He’s like so much older but he doesn’t act like he used to. Lance used to be so adult. Like, he was taking care of us. He always kept his needs and wants well hidden. I realised how much he spoilt me. How much he went along with me and Hunk. That he protected us and we didn’t even know it. I want to help, but I don’t know where to start”
Keith found himself hugging Pidge who seemed a little confused before hugging him back
“He makes it hard because he’s fiercely independent, but he knows you’re there for him”
“I want to be there for you too”
He didn’t make that exactly easy
“Lance says I’m an anger loaf...”
“He calls me his anger muffin”
“Shiro‘s a croissant from memory. The twins are cupcakes”
“Aren’t they big enough to be baguettes now?”
Drawing away from each other, Keith snorted at Pidge
“I’m not sure. Lance said a rutabaga, but I don’t know what that is”
Pidge turned her nose up, face wrinkled in disgust
“It’s a vegetable. A disgusting vegetable that should be left in the ground”
Keith frowned deeply. His twins were perfect. They weren’t vegetables... and if they were, at least they weren’t broccoli
“Careful there, you’re insulting my kids”
Pidge rolled her eyes, kicking his shin as she did
“Can’t half tell you’re going to be a dad. Which totally reminds me, I’ve ordered you two your baby shower present because you’re both idiots. They should be here in like a few days, then it’ll take a couple of days of tinkering”
“I thought we said we had everything we needed...”
“Nope. You don’t”
Keith didn’t know what the hell they could be missing. The boxes from the furniture still sat in the hallway, with the hallway pretty much full... sooo... how much more could they need or even fit into their house?
“How much more does a baby need?”
“I don’t know? A stroller? Krolia’s getting you car seats... because, you know, you kind of need them. You can’t just drive around with an unsecured baby. I’ve seen your driving”
Oh. Ooooh. Oh. Yeah. They hadn’t thought about the “get the baby home” part of things. Pidge cackled at the look on his face
“See! Shay and Hunk got you something too... Shiro’s been too busy with Curtis so I look the liberty of lifting his credit card. He can thank me later”
Keith was somewhat scared of Pidge’s criminal mind. He’d have to tell Shiro. Keith had no idea when she’d had the chance... unless his brother left his wallet in his locker... Having Shiro and Pidge working together without him there threw him for a loop as he realised
“Have I told you how happy I am that you’re not a bad guy?”
“You have, but feel free to praise me more”
Chuckling at Pidge, he’d missed her. February had been a month where he’d felt just about every moment of it. They’d had very few days where they didn’t have to go somewhere or do something. Now he’d be back at work and his schedule up in the air again
“Lance would tell me off for stroking your ego. We should go see or a movie something while we’re in Platt. You, me, Hunk and Lance”
“That sounds good. When do you start back?”
“When the summoning is over and Shiro’s okay”
“I’ll make a note of it and see when we both have time off. It’s been ages since we went to the movies with Lance”
“It’s been a crazy past few months”
“Amen to that. The guys are taking forever...”
Pidge was cut off as the sound of something booming echoed through the lab. The building seemed to shudder, Keith falling off his chair as he did
“What the fuck was that?!”
“I don’t know!”
That couldn’t be good
“I’ll check the hall”
“I’ll pull up the security feed”
Opening the door, the corridor outside was cut. Thick white walls in place as if they’d always been there. Holy fuck... Keith had never seen it, but the first thing that came to mind was a lockdown
“Ugh, Pidge... We’re locked in”
“Gimme a moment!”
Above him the hallway lights flickered, before bathing the world in red. An alarm sounding. Something had gone wrong with the summoning. It had to have. There was no other reason. Shit! Lance... Hopefully he and Hunk weren’t back yet. He needed to call them, let them know something happened... Fuck. Fuck! He should have been there with Shiro. Shit...
“Keith, get back here!”
Leaving the lab door open, Keith jogged over to Pidge
“What is it?”
“There’s no phone service. I’ve got into the security system. The whole place is in lock down. I’m trying to keep the feed, but I’m being booted as I type. It’s the summoning, isn’t it?”
“It has to be. Coran said it’d take a while, but something must have happened. Is there any way you get me down there?”
“If I can clear the walls I should be able to get you to the elevator”
“Can you lift specific ones? I need to get to my locker”
“I’ll try. Shit, whoever programmed this knew what they’re doing. See if you can find service while I work”
Keith snatched his phone up, despite being issued by the Blades, the top showed no signal. Ignore it, he tried Lance’s normal phone, the call not even ringing before he was back to looking at his boyfriend’s number
“Do you have any weapons in here? I don’t care if they’re experimental, we need to be prepared in case the demon got loose”
“Can’t talk! Have a look!”
Pidge was typing furiously on her keyboard. Keith casting a glance around the lab. There had to be something there. The case. The case Lance had his feet on. It was as good as any place to start.
Opening the case, it contained a modified sniper rifle with a digital connection display. He’d never handled a gun like it before, but he felt better for having his hands on it
“Do you know what this does?”
Pidge didn’t have the luxury of turning to look to the weapon, her fingers moving way too fast
“What’s it look like?”
“A sniper rifle with some kind of display screen”
“That’s up from R and D. It’s supposed to shoot a concentrated beam of UV light, but I haven’t been able to test it yet”
Oookay. Not so handy against a demon, but handy if a hoard of vampires decided to drop by unannounced.
“Fuck! Shit... Keith, you’re going to want to take a look at this!”
Moving beside Pidge, Keith’s heart dropped. Hunk and Lance were in the building... six different feeds were on the screen, Pidge targeting the one that caught her attention, still typing in a seperate black window thing that he had no idea about
“Have we got audio?”
“We’ve barely got this. Shit... Lance doesn’t look good”
Hunched over heavily, Lance was gripping the elevator wall. His other hand on his stomach, but his face wasn’t visible. From his body language, Keith knew something was up. Watching Hunk move to Lance’s side, the pair exchanged words, Hunk checking down the back of Lance’s pants sending him into fresh panic
“We need comms. Can you hack the elevator?”
“Let me work on getting audio up and running”
The building shook again. Which had to be impossible. The place was designed for containment. The amount of power it would take... Pidge was doing all she could, but he needed to get to Lance. Then again, he couldn’t leave Pidge on her own
“Go check the other desks. I need another monitor. See if you can find anything useful”
Her blunt tone was filled with anger. He knew that tone too well, it came from being frustrated. He’d be practically sabotaging her attempts to figure out what was happening if he tried to help.
Following Pidge’s orders, Keith retrieved the monitor for her, plugging it in as she directed. He’d found nothing good on the desks, apart from two ear pieces though was unsure if they’d work. If Pidge could get them going, he could follow her instructions once she’d pulled up the building schematics and worked out how to get these walls down
“Keith, I’ve got audio for the elevator”
“Can they hear us?”
“Not yet. I’ve got to find the programming code in all this junk!”
“Play it”
On the screen Hunk had moved back to Lance’s side. Lance still hunched over. Dread creeping up his throat like a bouquet of rose thorns as his boyfriend’s voice came through
“Fuck... fucking... fuuuuck”
“Just keep breathing”
Lance snapped at Hunk, his face finally visible to the screen. His boyfriend wearing his scary face
“You still can’t reach Keith!?”
“Nope... I can’t get the doors open...”
“Damn... dammity damn”
“How far apart are the contractions?”
“Still pretty far... it’s the lingering pain...”
Contractions... No. No... it was too soon
“Keith...”
“I know. I need to get to Lance”
Pidge panicked hard
“I don’t know how long it’ll take to get the walls up!”
On the screen Lance felt for Hunk’s hand, grabbing it in his before falling against their friend
“Hunk...”
“I’ve got you, man. I’ve got you. Here, you should sit...”
“If I get the doors open... you... have to go for help...”
“I’m not about to leave you”
“The summonings gone wrong... I can feel it! My ego... my ego is mad..”
“Lance...”
“Please... please... I don’t want to hurt you”
Keith’s heart was racing. Things had... How could... What the...
“What do I do?”
“Can you get the doors open?”
“Not without risking dropping the elevator. It’s on its own system. Coran must have designed it for containment... to protect staff if something bad came”
Keith heard himself snap
“Something bad has come! There’s a fucking demon and Lance is losing the twins!”
“Don’t yell at me! I’m working as fast as I can!”
He deserved that.
“Hunk, I’m going to open the doors... I don’t know how long I can keep them open, if I push you through, you should make it okay...”
“I’m not leaving”
“You have to! I can’t protect you like this!”
“I...”
“Hunk, you’re strong. You’re strong and I know you can do this. Find a landline”
“There has to be...”
“I’m not leaving you. We’ll get the doors open and we’ll go together. If we can’t go out the doors then... then we’ll go through the hatch!”
“You don’t understand... I feel it... the demons aura... it won’t stop at just destroying this place... I can’t let it hurt you”
“Stop being stubborn! We’ll work this out!”
Lance broke down into sobs as he clung to Hunk
“I’m sorry!”
“It’s okay, Bud. But you need to calm down for me...”
“I need Keith...”
“I know. We’ll work it out. How do we get the doors open”
“I’ll pry them open. We can’t... be the only ones trapped...”
Lance brought up a good point. Dozens of people worked behind the scenes. They’d probably had training in what to do during a lock down, if Coran had remembered to tell them
“I’m on it. I can’t get a visual on the floor where Shiro is... He’ll be okay, won’t he?”
“Yeah. Yeah. If the demon wanted to hurt him, it’s had its chance...”
Plus Coran and Allura were there. Keith couldn’t help but feel if Pidge concentrated on just one project they’d be making more progress, but he wasn’t the one who made the tech side of things happen so had no right to boss her around.
It was an anxious wait. Keith didn’t take his eyes off Lance. Whatever he was feeling had upset his ego. Hunk was in a dangerous situation. Lance was likely to lose it if his ego thought Keith was in danger
“Okay. I’ve stopped the coding for the lockdown. And I’ve sent a virus through the system. It’ll concentrate on that, giving me time to do what I need to get the elevator comms on”
“Do it”
“I am. Fuck, when this is over, I’m doing to punch whoever coded this in the dick. These encryptions are no joke. Thankfully I’ve got more access than I should after what happened with Sendak. Coran hasn’t changed his passwords”
Coran would have changed the access if it hadn’t been Pidge. They were all proud of her, slightly scared of her, but she had her heart in the right place. She’d amazing all of them with finely honed skills. Keith seeing all the good in her that Lance bragged about
“He trusts you. Lance has been bragging about how smart you are for years”
“He does that...”
“He’ll be okay”
“I should be saying that to you”
“I have to believe he’ll be okay. He has to be. If his ego is upset, that could be... that could be stressing the twins. He can’t be in labour”
“Keith”
“He can’t be. He’s done everything he’s supposed to. How long until we get comms?”
Pidge swallowed hard, both she and Keith knew they were hoping too much for things to work out unnaturally smoothly
“A little while. It’s not like in the movies. I have figure all this out on the go”
“You can do it. I know you can”
*
Lance focused on his breathing. Slowly In and slowly out. His ego was getting madder by the minute. The foul black aura felt more and more sinister. Like the evil was creeping up the elevator shaft. He’d cried until his ego riled up. His tears drying up as he struggled to keep breathing. His priority was Hunk. He had to protect Hunk. And protect him from himself. His nails had grown out, the doors looking pretty damn tempting. But he was trying his hardest not to lose it at the situation.
“Guys?! Guys, can you hear us?!”
Lance jumped at the sound of Pidge’s unexpected voice. Hunk scrambled off the floor, rushing to the intercom that hadn’t been working so far
“Pidge?!”
“Hunk! Oh my god! Are you guys okay?!”
“I’m okay! But Lance... Pidge, is Keith there?”
“I’m here, Hunk. We’ve got you guys on screen. Lance, I see you”
Keith wasn’t hurt. Keith was with Pidge. His ego relieved. The darkness hadn’t swallowed Keith
“Keith, Lance is having cramps”
“We know. Coran’s got audio in there. It took a little bit to get it up on this end. We can’t get to you guys. They’ve dropped these walls in place... We can probably go up through the vents, can you guys get into the vents?”
Lance mentally sighed at his boyfriend. Like his pregnant arse was going to fit in any vent
“Don’t bother with the vents. Are you guys still in Pidge’s lab?”
“Lance, you need to speak up!”
He wasn’t speaking up? Hunk passed his question on
“He asked if you guys are still in Pidge’s lab”
“Yeah. Pidge is doing tech stuff”
“Don’t suppose she can get these doors open?”
“She doesn’t want to risk dropping the elevator. Lance, she says don’t touch the doors until she sees the emergency stop coding”
Fucking great. Trapped in a metal box dangled over a demon...
“Keith, the summoning went wrong. I felt a wave of this... this darkness. Stay where you are”
“I’m not going anywhere until Pidge gets the lockdown reversed”
“Babe, listen to me. If the summoning went wrong, there are three demons down there. You can’t take on three demons alone. Pidge, focus on the elevator. I need to get Hunk out of here safely. Coran has stairs all over this place. He wouldn’t trap his workers without a way for staff to evacuate safely. Have you got eyes on the bottom level?”
“No, Lance. Are you okay? We saw what happened...”
“It’s the summoning... We need to get out of here in case we need to drop the elevator”
Lance wasn’t giving up on his friends. He couldn’t give up on them. If the demon was lose, they needed to limit the ways it could escape. Had Hunk not been with him, he could have popped open the hatch and checked his options. Not that he was risking himself or his pregnancy, he could take full responsibility for his actions when he only had himself to consider. Rubbing his tender belly, he would have headed for help for them first, because that’s what Keith would want. The labs were some of the safest places in VOLTRON. They had to be. The technology there was sensitive and secretive. They couldn’t have a rampaging werewolf armed with tech. A vampire with a gun... actually, the vampire could do more damage without it.
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Zerfall - 4/14
Pairing: Bucky x named!Reader (Agent Andromeda)
Summary: After Hydra drops virus bombs in 7 major American cities in the height of summer, the team is locked in their emergency bunker for weeks. The virus commonly called the Summer Poison successfully brought the infrastructure to a halt in all big cities. When the virus slowly starts burning itself out SHIELD Agents and Avengers are sent out to bring back order into the cities and the international relationships. Not without hurdles.
Warnings for this chapter: Pandemic, apocalypse, fight, violence, gun violence
Zerfall Masterlist || M a s t e r l i s t
“Good Morning. You are officially allowed to leave with the following plan in place to get the US back on its feet.” Helen came into the room smiling while the entire team was still slowly waking up.
Sam and Clint shot up from their beds getting ready first. They really wanted to go out there and finally get something done and that became even clearer seeing them put on their clothes and getting ready before waiting in front of the big bunker door to the outside world.
You got up a little slower, slowly got your stuff you put together the day before and also positioned yourself at the door, waiting for the plan the trio made.
“Avengers,” Tony spoke up and had everyone’s attention in the blink of an eye.
“We’re gonna have to seal contaminated areas in the cities everything broke out and help the civilians there with all those bad groups forming everywhere. You can team up with SAID agents there and the two we have here. And since we go out there the first time I want you to put on these masks and take them with you everywhere. Once we’re up there, -hopefully nothing is raided-, we take backpacks and fill them with whatever we need. Disinfection stuff too, please.” He explained before handing everyone one of the very futuristic looking masks.
“Captain.” He nodded towards Steve and the bunker door was opened with a loud screeching sound.
“Thank god.” You heard someone mumble.
“Seems fine. Security system held up.” Came from Steve in the front.
“Eda, scan for the virus,” you muttered.
“No virus detected.” Came back at you.
“Good, grab your stuff and decide where you wanna help.” Steve finally was in Captain mode again.
“I’ll go with Agent Magnolia.” Wanda smiled and looked at her new team partner.
“I’ll go to D.C. with Natasha,” Steve called out while grabbing his shield from his room.
“I’ll go to Atlanta.” Tony decided.
“I call dibs on Los Angeles.” Sam smiled.
“And I on Chicago.” Clint immediately added.
“Guess I’ll go with Agent Andromeda.” Bucky smiled at you.
“Perfect.” You mirrored his expression before Bruce started talking.
“I’ll stay here with Helen and Pepper. This compound will be an important base now. We need to find a cure and Pepper can work on all kinds of public relations,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, we need not only a cure but also a way to get rid of contaminated bodies and all the icky stuff about this.”
“And get back some trade nations like Germany, China & Canada,” Pepper added to end on a less disgusting note.
“Avengers? To the Quinjet!” Cap called out and everyone followed suit with their backpacks and weapons.
The mood on the flight switched to nervousness really quickly since everyone realized they were going to see the real results of what happened in the last months. The first hold was Bucky’s and your stop. You were let out right by the Stark Tower.
Agent Magnolia and Wanda would be starting in Cunningham Park, Queens. There also were two Agents already at work in Brooklyn and the Bronx. Agent Bee & Agent Zeta.
“Weapon Check, Agent.” He smiled down at you.
“Gerber Mark II, Gerber Tanto, Seal knife.” You pointed at each of them.
“Don’t really care which guns as long as I know what I need to put in them.” You continued with a grin.
“We have similar taste in equipment, I see.” Now he grinned.
“Any priorities, Sergeant?” You asked while typing around on EADA to scan the surrounding area.
“Please, let’s stay with the normal names.” He scrunched his nose.
“I mean, you have the higher rank. Your choice to make.” You looked up again.
“You��re probably more skilled than me at this.” He chuckled.
“Me? More skilled than the Winter Soldier? Sure.” You snorted.
“Glad we agree.” He rolled his eyes at your inability to take a compliment.
“So, are there priorities?” You dipped your head to the side while asking.
“You tell me. You’re trained for this.” He looked around a little bit lost.
“Well, clearing the area. People probably saw the jet.” You shrugged.
There were burned out cars all around, tons of trucks and containers blocking streets, busses in the middle of the street and suitcases left in odd places. Some stuff was partly overgrown by now and you’ve never seen the actual tower in such a bad shape.
Your eyes fell onto the perfect hiding spot for you two to check for patrols and other activity in the area. You nudged your head there and got a silent nod back.
You typed on your watch again, hearing a small attention sound, then three shorter sounds.
“Three unidentified or bad guys. Coming down the street on the right at the crossing over there,” you mumbled.
“That watch is pretty neat.” He grinned peaking over the mailbox you were sitting behind.
“She’s the best.” You grinned, slamming a magazine into your pistol.
You were both waiting for the three people to walk by since you heard them talking from afar. Manhattan must be having civilian settlements somewhere but you didn’t know where to find them and if those dudes were part of them.
“All of them have vests and signs on their vests. Doesn’t look good, Ann,” he said leaning around to watch them turn onto the street you were on.
“What does it look like, the logo,” you whispered.
“This is why I hate not being a sniper anymore,” he grumbled and you cackled.
“You’ll be soon enough, old man.”
“Don’t call me that.” He grinned but went silent to listen in on the conversation.
“Why do we have to move this dumb ammo around like this? It’s not like we don’t have carts to put it into anymore.”
“Shut up, Kyle. It’s just carrying a fucking box. Do you want a raise or do you want a bullet in your head from the Sergeant?” Came back.
You saw Bucky start grinning at the beautiful foreshadowing in case these were actually bad guys.
“I heard they killed three dudes to get all of this stuff. How much do you think the library settlement has?”
#mine#text#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes x y/n#james barnes#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#the winter soldier#captain america#mcu#marvel#marvel cinematic universe#bucky fanfic#bucky x oc#oc x bucky#bucky barnes x oc#oc x bucky barnes#named!reader#named!reader x bucky#bucky x named!reader#bucky barnes x named!reader#agent andromeda#zerfall#bucky x agent#bucky barnes x agent#apocalypse AU
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FLUFF 12 OMGOMG FLUFF 12 FLUFF 12!!!! :3
"Am I on your lockscreen?" "You weren't supposed to see that."
~*~
"Hey Vagabud, look here."
Ryan turned his head, caught sight of what was facing him, and whipped his head back around before the fake shutter noise sounded. "What the HELL is your problem?" he snapped as he shot to his feet. His photo assailant, Ramsey's sniper, fell off the couch with a laugh, like he hadn't just violated his number one taboo. "Give me that."
"Dude, relax, it's blurry anyway." The sniper made no move to stop him from grabbing the phone from his hand. "You should smile next time."
"Not gonna be a 'next time'," Ryan growled, deleting the evidence from the phone. "No pictures."
"Pfft." The younger guy was clearly unimpressed, even when Ryan dropped the phone to the floor and smashed the screen with the heel of his boot. "Ya know that wasn't my phone, right? That's Gavin's."
"I don't care whose phone it is-"
"Clearly, Mister Wanton Destruction of Property."
"-you try shit like that again I'll strangle you with my bare hands."
"Kinky."
Ryan had no answer for that. So he walked away. The job was done, evidence destroyed, he was NEVER working with this crew again...there was no reason to get worked up.
~*~
"RAY YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD!"
Cackling like an idiot, Ray took off across the runway, phone held out and away from him. Ryan took off in hot pursuit, wrench still in his hand. He'd been bent over, helping Jack fix something on the landing gear, and heard that unmistakable shutter snap again. He'd turned, found Ray clearly posing with his bent-over ass, and that led to the current situation. Once again getting after Ray over a sneaky photo.
"Sneaky" was actually a bit of a stretch. Ray was never subtle about what he was doing. Hell, most of the time he asked Ryan to pose or smile for him, or enlisted Gavin and Michael who were even less subtle than he was. It was stupid, it was childish, and despite his best threats (and carrying out a few less-harmful ones) Ray still persisted. It was almost enough to make him want to wear the mask again.
He caught up with Ray when he tripped over a hole in the desert, following him down to pin him in the dirt. "Give it," he growled, scrambling for Ray's phone to delete the footage. Again.
"Fucking make me." Ray was more squirmy and determined this time. It must have been a good picture.
"You little- Shit!" A very close jab had nearly gotten him somewhere sensitive. Ryan got his arm around Ray's neck, using his weight to hold him down. "You're not getting away with this."
"Sure I'm not." Ray sounded breathless, and not like he'd been sprinting across the desert minutes ago. It occurred to Ryan, suddenly, what position they were in, and he lunged back abruptly. Ray clearly hadn't expected that, because he collapsed with a shocked gasp. Ryan took the opportunity, snatching up his phone.
"Damnit." The screen was locked already. "Give me your thumb."
"Gotta wrestle me again for it," Ray taunted. His grin faded when Ryan got right back into his space, right in his face, close enough to smell the dust and sweat on his hoodie.
"Unlock it or I'll leave your corpse out here for the buzzards."
Ray shivered. "Flirt," he accused, before offering up his thumb. Ryan swiped the phone across it, catching sight of his lockscreen, a stupid collage of pot leafs and 420s, before it vanished to reveal the picture.
It was...actually a pretty good shot of his ass. Except for Ray making a chef's kiss in the foreground. Ryan dispassionately deleted it away.
"When you guys are done making out over there, we're ready to go." Jack's yell broke them apart. Ryan was sure Ray's face wasn't the only one red.
"Keep trying, you little shit," he called over his shoulder.
"Oh I will!" Ray gleefully answered back.
~*~
The first thing Ryan was aware of was the steady, annoying beeping. The next was how damn much he hurt.
His groan triggered a scramble of noise to his right. "Hey babe," he heard, and groaned again. "How ya feelin?"
"'m not your babe," he grumbled
"Yeah but they wouldn't let me come with you unless we were married, so?" He could almost hear Ray's shrug. "The doctors say you're stable, so that's good enough for me, we can keep you alive from there. Soon as you can be vertical we're out of here."
Ryan cracked an eye. Ray actually looked the part of a concerned spouse, deep bags under his eyes like he'd stayed awake for too long waiting for him. A thought occurred to him. "My facepaint..."
"Uh, yeah." Ray looked away. "Don't worry, I've got a memory like a goldfish, forget what you look like soon as I look away. And Gav's already hacked the security, he'll scramble it as soon as we're out of here."
"And what about any other pictures of me?" It was hard to sound threatening with stitches all up his chest and three IVs in his arm, but Ray flicked a glance back and away again.
"I'm not a fucking creep, dude. You're not that pretty passed out." A quick smile graced his lips. "'Sides, that's not a challenge."
"Asshole," Ryan weakly accused, settling back in his bed. All things considered, he would really rather have Ray pretend to be his fake husband than one of the other crew members. And he felt like he could really trust him not to have any voyeuristic pictures on his phone. This time.
~*~
"Fucking...hell." Ryan was deeply gratified to hear the breathlessness in Ray's voice where it was smushed against his neck. "Why'd we take so long to do that?"
"You were an annoying asshole," Ryan reminded him, running his fingers up and down his bare spine. Ray fit so stupidly good in his arms. It really was a tragedy it'd taken so long to get into bed together.
"And you're a stoic prick," Ray shot back, before pressing a lighter kiss to his collarbone. One that wouldn't leave a mark, unlike the rest he'd deposited there. "Pretty sure if you'd've stopped running off every time I winked at you-"
"I seem to remember running after you plenty."
"Yeah to delete my hard-earned gratuity pics. Speaking of-" Ray uprooted his hand to gesture over to his abandoned pants. "Gimmie my phone. Gotta have evidence I banged your ass."
Ryan groaned. "You're the fucking worst," he said, even as he obligingly fished the phone out.
"The words 'fucking' and 'worst' don't belong in this bed together with us." Ray took his phone and swiped his thumb to open it, but not before Ryan caught sight of the new lockscreen.
"Am I on your lockscreen?"
Ray looked guilty for all of two seconds before sighing. "You weren't supposed to see that."
"I thought I got them all?"
"Nah, I managed to copy that picture of your ass before you deleted it. That one had to be saved, that's fucking art." Ray activated the camera, holding his phone out at arm's length, getting them both in the frame. "Say 'Just fucked!'"
"You're fucked if this goes anywhere besides your lockscreen." His words were cut off by the shutter noise.
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for @demibuckybarnes what is a birthday? a miserable pile of presents given two days too late
heart emojis
The strange thing about Gotham was how it affected your sleep pattern.
You could simultaneously sleep through a bomb going off a few blocks away, and wake up at the slightest rustle outside your window.
The quiet and reserved citizens slept at night, the rowdy and bloodthirsty slept during the day, and the wise rarely slept at all. With all the smog, sometimes it was hard to tell the difference anyway.
Champ slept a devil’s slumber, deep and dreaming, unbothered by guilt or fear, every time they remembered to sleep. Their bunker had no windows. They were not asleep right now. They were creeping through the dark parts of the city, dodging the troublesome elements of the streets easily enough and slipping past the criminal element. It was the daytime, all the criminals awake were either rich or desperately poor. Neither were something they could put a stop to.
They sidled closer to their goal, scarf wrapped warm and thick around their face, warm knit cap pulled down over ears and nearly over eyes. Their fingers were bared by the ratty gloves. The door’s bell merrily announced their presence to those inside. They ambled to the door with grim purpose, a look of fierce determination in their eyes.
“Hello,” they said cheerily, “I’ve come to pick up an order?”
The bored man behind the counter nodded.
“Name?”
“Pennyworth.”
He grunted, then disappeared for a moment. When he returned he had a white box. Placing it on the glass counter, he flipped the lid up for a moment before quickly, delicately placing it back down.
“Wasn’t easy, gettin’ it done like that.”
They hummed, an acknowledgement.
“You were paid well enough, weren’t you?”
He grunted, his own acknowledgement.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get your tip.”
The man’s dreary countenance brightened somewhat.
“Be careful lugging that thing around. Don’t want anything.......destroyed.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” they delicately took the package into their own hands, nodded at the man, “These are some of the most careful hands in Gotham.”
The man merely grunted again, and tactfully made no response to that. Truthfully, he had none. With the gait of an altar boy, holding something holy and delicate, they made their way out of the shop. The man watched idly as they began their journey, before grunting again to himself and flipping his magazine back open, once again settled into his boredom.
Meanwhile, Champ made their way down the street, hands cautiously continually readjusting themselves. Too tight, and it could cause a problem. Too loose, and they could drop it, and cause a REAL problem. Too shaky? Another potential problem. They had a ways to take this haul, and mostly on foot. Champ couldn’t deny the weight of the responsibility on them, but running errands for either of their fathers came with risk.
They nudged their ear with their shoulder, muttering into the comm unit.
“Jason. Package obtained. Delivery in progress.”
There was a muffled crackle in their ear before a reply.
“Acknowledged. Eyes are on the target. They don’t suspect a damn thing.”
“Easy, J-man. Let’s not get too cocky.”
“This from you?”
Champ let out a short harsh laugh, still cautiously maneuvering down the street.
“This isn’t our usual gig, Todd.”
“No,” came a terse reply. “This isn’t.”
“Wow,” came an unexpected third voice, “You guys sound so intense. What is this, a Bruce Impression Contest?”
Champ groaned.
“Tim, how can you even say that? On this, of all days.”
A cackle came through the line.
“Figured you could use the levity. I’m on the roof, by the way. To your left. See me waving at you? I’m here to take care of any distractions.”
Champ carefully eased one hand from the box to flip off the roof.
“Other left.”
Champ sighed.
“This is why I work alone, Tim. You’re the distraction.”
“Oh so this IS a Bruce Impression Contest?”
“How’d I do?”
“Needs a bit more bass.”
“My voice can only go so low, would more gravel suffice?”
“Guys,” Jason interjected, “Focus. Besides. My Bruce Impression is way better.”
Twin scoffs came through his ear piece.
-
Allison was having a very strange day.
That in itself was not so unusual, life in Gotham was strange even if you didn’t have vigilantes crawling through your windows at all hours of day and night.
And they rarely remembered to wipe their feet.
It was the vigilantes themselves that were making today unusual. Notably, the absence of them. Most days, she couldn’t wake up without someone crashing their way through the kitchen, or snoring on the couch, or -god forbid- bleeding in the bathroom, trying to stitch themselves up with dental floss.
(Why dental floss, when she had asked Champ, had been answered with to keep their flesh wounds minty fresh. She had thrown a bar of soap at them and called Alfred to take them home.)
Today, when she woke up, it was to a clean and empty apartment. It was unsettling.
More unsettling when she came into the kitchen and found it, not only un-ransacked, but cleaner than when she had fallen asleep. There was a plate on the table, held under a cloche. Curious, she lifted it to find an assortment of breakfast, as well as a small note.
‘The first of many gifts. A.’
There was a small flower laid in between the cutlery and the orange juice. She lifted it up, touching the soft petals.
“Huh,” she muttered.
A knock came at the door, suspiciously soon after she had finished her breakfast and put the dishes in the sink.
It wasn’t a surprise when she opened it to find Dick waiting. It was a surprise that someone had actually knocked.
“Is this a parallel universe?”
Dick frowned, head cocked to the side.
“Don’t think so. Why, has anyone tried to homoerotically recruit you? That’s usually my tell.”
“That happens to you in this universe.”
“Beauty is a curse.”
“What’s going on, loser?”
He grinned.
“Can’t tell, or secret snipers will kill me.”
She rolled her eyes.
“No, really!” He walked the the small window in the kitchenette and waved cheerfully at the top of the adjacent building. A small red dot appeared on his shoulder. Allison opened her mouth to ask more, then firmly closed it lest she say something inciting.
Are we okay, she mouthed.
Dick winked.
Jason. Laser pointer.
Allison groaned, then shoved his shoulder while he laughed.
“I was really worried!”
“So am I! He still might really shoot me, it’s Jason.”
The laser made it’s way from his shoulder to his head, blinking playfully. She rolled her eyes.
“What are you doing here, anyway?”
His grin went loose and lopsided, entire body relaxing into it. He gave a short, theatrical bow.
“I’m here to escort you through the day.”
“You’re gonna walk me to work?”
His face filled with sorrow.
“I regret to inform you that you are very sick.”
“I’m what?”
“You’re extremely, contagiously ill and you therefore cannot make it into work today.”
“Dick-”
“In fact, we’ve already called ahead and told them. You forwarded them your doctor’s note even.”
“Jesus.”
“No, it was Barbara.”
“Dammit, Dick, what’s going on?”
He practically vibrated with excitement, bouncing on his toes like a child.
“It’s a surprise.”
“I hate surprises!”
“I know,” he lilted, before grabbing her hand and coaxing her to the door, “So we’d better hurry up and get through it all so we can get the surprise part over with!”
Groaning, she relented.
-
When they finally made it to the house, Alfred ushered them in through the back door.
“Dick’s dragging her all over town doing touristy shit,” they reported dutifully, “and I got the package here unharmed.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“That,” he chided, though not unkindly, “Remains to be seen.”
Flushing under their scarf, they placed the box on the table. Gently, the butler lifted the lid. Champ and Tim’s breath was caught in their throats. Alfred looked nonplussed in that exact shade of unbothered that meant he was two seconds away from a heart attack. With the easy precision of a man well acquainted with weapons, he eased it up and deftly set it away to inspect it’s contents. Champ’s heart hammered in their throat. He sighed, and they felt their body freeze.
“I’m s-”
“It’s perfect.”
They paused.
“What?”
“Perfectly well done, dear. Not even any smudges along the edges.”
They let out a proud cry of delight, jumping up and down happily before grabbing Tim in a hug and dancing him around the kitchen. Alfred watched patiently at the two laughed and spun. Bruce ambled in nonchalantly, eating an apple and nursing a black eye.
“Take it the cake got here alright?”
Alfred nodded.
“Hmm.”
He sunk back into the shadows.
They spent the rest of the day preparing the mansion, hanging decorations and hiding presents and bothering Alfred while he cooked until he chased them off with a wooden spoon so they would go and clamber on Bruce instead. Midway through the afternoon Jason showed up, informing them all that they had another hour.
By the time Dick sauntered up the steps with Allison in tow, the entire house was dark and still. This is and of itself was unnerving, as lately the place was usually crawling with extremely loud and energetic people.
“Is anyone home?”
Dick shrugged, grinning.
She creaked open the back entrance. The house had several entrances, the back one being the entrance into the kitchen, originally designated for servants and food delivery in such a way as to be discreet. Now it was merely the family entrance. And also where the food delivery happened. The more things change the more they stay the same.
It was dark, and quiet, and Alli got a sudden impression that it was filled with unseen life. Before she had time to be scared, the lights turned on and loud noisemakers came from everywhere. Champ grabbed her around the waist and twirled her around in a happy hug.
“Dude, did you think we’d forget your birthday?”
Alli laughed.
The whole family was there. Clark smiled politely from the table. Bane was tucked into a corner, glowering calmly with a small but very brightly colored party hat that suggested he was here at Champ’s insistence and determined to enjoy himself. Talia leaned against him. Bruce sighed as the robins all flitted around the room with noisemakers being as loud as possible. Jason grabbed Allison from Champ and gave her his own spin. Dick silently slipped his own party hat on from his pocket, standing next to Alfred with his hat. The house was instantly transformed into a bright and colorful whirlwind of warmth and laughter and food. Allison laughed, steadying herself against her friend.
“Thank you all, for this. Thank you.”
A round of raucous cheers and kazoo noises greeted her.
“But there’s something I have to say, and please know that nothing will change what you’ve all done for me.”
An anticipatory hush fell over the crowd.
“I love you all so much, and this means more than I could possibly say.”
Jason hid his grin behind his hand.
“But my birthday was two days ago.”
A stunned silence rushed the room. It was broken by Jason’s loud laughter.
“They were so sure,” he wheezed out, “They were so proud of themselves I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell them.”
Champ punched his sternum.
“DAMMIT.”
Allison laughed.
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Maddening Lions Update #4!
[WARNING. SPOILERS FOR FE3H AHEAD. CURRENTLY PLAYING LIONS ROUTE BUY SOMETIMES I TALK ABOUT OTHERS AND SOME PARALOGUES OVERLAP SO SORRY IN ADVANCE]
Update delays due to Pokémon Sword and Shield. :P I've been done with this part for a bit but haven't updated because I was trying to finish the run before Pokémon came out, but fucKING ENBARR, MAN. We have a bookmark in the middle of the first part of the final map, but that'll be next update's explanation. For now, Fhirdiad, Derdriu, and the paralogues that remain:
For those curious who gets benched when I'm doing paralogues that require students not on my main roster: it's Ingrid. As a Holy Knight, I could use her healing, but honestly I don't trust her enough to not die while waiting for her turn again, so she is a useful adjutant (as Holy Knight is a healing type). Caspar and Hilda are B-team anyway so they're also mostly in my pockets.
The continuation of Molly's Madlions!
Paralogue: Brigid is Lovely This Time of Year:
Brigid is not lovely this time of year, and probably this is only compounded by my failure to level up the people who trigger the paralogues. With level 9 Bernie and level 12 Petra, we did it, though I did fail entirely once and restart. Those dang multiple commanders kept racing towards the goal, and I couldn't get over enough to stop them without losing one of my babies. T-T
I learned from consulting with friends that apparently if you put Petra on the stronghold, it summons allies I had never gotten before, because I usually push Petra towards the goal square. Not that the reinforcements mattered much this time because they were immediately eaten by oncoming Falcon Knights. >_< bought us a turn at least? Also, Wyvern Lord Dedue is a Pegasus-dueling champ. His personal ability gives him +4 Def when he waits, and combined with Lancebreaker and Alert Stance+, he is nigh untouchable. I like to park him on the edge of Pegasus range and giggle maniacally as they approach. Now, Deude doesn't de-do much damage in return to the horse girls, but his friend Ashe the Bow Knight is eager to contribute.
Again, thicket is love, thicket is life, but also knowing where the reinforcements come in is helpful. It turned out heading away from Hubert to stop the commanders was a better strategy than going straight for Hubie, because even though his magic is gross, his movement was too slow to matter.
Fhirdiad: So I had been holding back on using the Scythe of Sariel because I was low on Agarthium. When this map opened, I took one look around at the Titanus and cackled.
This map is a little tricky because if you don't aggro the Titanus, they'll cluster around Cornelia, which makes her difficult to approach traditionally. Especially if you use your gambits up trying to break past the first couple. And because they have a non-zero crit chance, which strikes a deep fear into my heart (and indeed, we received several crits). It occurred to me at a certain point that I didn't have to defeat all of them--I just had to punch Cornelia.
My first BL run, I was able to get Dimitri up to her for the special dialogue. This time, we got too bogged down by giant robots, who Dimitri excels at distracting. Tomebreaker Felix broke her face in for us, which was satisfying in another way. Kudos to Ashe and Mercie for chasing down the thief with the Crest of Lamine Bow!
Paralogue: Retribution:
I intentionally saved this for last because the level recommendation was about 37, higher than any recommended so far. And the last time I did it, it was haaaardddd. Again, didn't help that Lysithea and Ferdie were levels 11 and 13. *did* help that they were both on horses. Now that's strategy
I feel like this paralogue, like many others, is very top heavy. If you want the Ochain Shield (and trust me, you absolutely do), you have to save all of the villagers. Which is a puzzle, because you have to find someone who can dodge and/or withstand both magic and physical attacks enough not to die on the enemy turn. I spent quite a few Divine Pulses trying to learn what movements would trigger enemy approaches and reinforcements. Once 2/3 of the map was clear, things eased up. Most of the final third waits for you to come to them, so you can just trip a few at a time.
Shout-out to Lifetaker Mortal Savant Sylvain, the dodgiest motherfucker this side of Fódlan's Throat. That dude dodged an inhuman amount of damage and healed so much. Holy goddess.
And we got the Shield~
"So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish" or "Saving Claude's Bacon":
I made the mistake of remarking aloud that I was glad only the enemy Snipers had Vantage. So of fucking course now the billions of enemy Heroes have it now, too. I know it's a class skill! But I'm still mad about it. XD This battle I noticed I was focused a lot more on ranged magic attacks (that extra range from Levin Sword+ is a godsend) because fuuuucckkk Vantage on all those Heroes. They are weaker to magic than physical damage, but not by much.
We are starting to get into our S-rank skills now, which is really helpful. Thyrcedes has a disgusting range. Annette really benefits from having any extra range, so she's doing well, too. Sylvain is almost there! But he is delightfully dodgy enough that it isn't quite necessary for him. And Dimitri didn't need +10 Crit but BOY IS IT A GOOD TIME. With the Scythe of Sariel, Mitya's crit chance is 60% [wahaha intensifies]
Next up: Arianrhod, Naruto Running @ Ft Mercius, Enbarr, and the Apex of the World
Roster Progression (post sight-seeing):
To see the class progression, please check my earlier updates (#Molly's Madlions)! It's a lot of text to repost 😭
Unit: Class (Main Weapons)
Byleth: Enlightened One (Sword, Faith rip my fists I need Windsweep)
Dimitri: Great Lord (Lances, Swords, Critical Hits)
Dedue: Wyvern Lord (Axes, Lances)
Ashe: Bow Knight (Bows)
Ingrid: Holy Knight (Lances, Faith)
Annette: Mortal Savant (Reason)
Sylvain: Mortal Savant (Reason)
Felix: Warmaster (TOO SLOW Brawl)
Flayn: Dancer (Levin Sword+, Rapier, Reason)
Hilda: Falcon Knight (Lances, Axes)
Caspar: Wyvern Lord (Axes)
You Two Should Kiss! (Intended Pairings):
• Dimitri and Byleth
• Sylvain and Felix
• Ashe and Ingrid
• Mercedes and Annette
• Flayn and Dedue
• Caspar and Hilda
• Dorothea and Petra
• Ferdinand and Manuela
• Catherine and Shamir
• Hanneman and Lysithea
#molly's madlions#fire emblem three houses spoilers#fire emblem three houses#fe3h paralogues#fe3h timeskip#fe3h#fe16#blue lions#maddening mode
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“Myshka.”
Oh. Would you look at that. It’s 10k words long.
*sighs* On one hand, I have mild regrets.
On the other hand... I REGRET NOTHING.
Welcome back to my hyperfixation with Piotr Rasputin. This installment shows some of the highlights of you, our lovely reader, becoming “myshka” (little mouse) to Colossus.
Side note: I definitely took inspiration from @colossus-and-cable ‘s https://colossus-and-cable.tumblr.com/post/176047533623/soft-skin and https://colossus-and-cable.tumblr.com/post/176314375850/dinner-date! Obviously, I didn’t copy either piece (I ain’t no plagiarizer) but if you’re in the mood for more Colossus x Reader fluff, go check out those two pieces (and colossus-and-cable’s blog in general. They’re amazing, their writing is amazing, and they are my main supplier for my thirst addiction).
Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, strong language, and enough fluff to rot teeth.
Pairing: Piotr Rasputin x Reader.
The first time it happens, as with all great love stories, you wipe out on your ass.
Hard.
For clarification: Colossus calling you “myshka” didn’t make you wipe out on your ass; rather, you wiped out particularly hard during a mission and he called you “myshka” after he’d found you post-wipe out.
Technically, not the same, but the former way of phrasing the situation sounds much funnier than the latter, in your opinion.
The scene is set: the X-Force team is in the midst of taking down a group of mutant traffickers so they can rescue the latest group of victims.
There’s gunfire. Bullets whizzing everywhere. Lots and lots of bullets.
And, over the din of it all, Wade is cackling like a madman.
There were times where you really questioned your decision to be friends with Wade Wilson, aka Deadpool. This was one of them.
You grit your teeth as Wade runs headfirst into the gunfire and use your powers to knock a row of shooters off their feet with a hard blast of wind. You’re currently pinned behind a car by way of gunfire, waiting for the others --Colossus, Yukio, Domino, Cable, Russell, and Ellie--to catch up. “Wade!” you snap, knowing full well he and the others can hear you via the earpieces issued by the X-Men. “I swear to Cthulhu, if I die from your dumbass choices, I will personally come back just to kill you.”
“What’s going on?” Colossus’s voice floods the line, strained with effort and worry.
“The fuckstick decided to set off the shooters and charge them,” You growl as you watch Wade take down another trio of criminals. “It’s a mess over here.”
Colossus mutters something about proper language before starting to rant at Wade. “Deadpool, we talked about this. The plan was to wait for rest of team before--”
Wade cut him off with an undignified shriek. “Shit! Snipers! Fuck!”
You can hear the sound the bullets, both from where you’re sitting and through your earpiece. “Serves you right, dumbfuck. I hope they hit your ass.”
“Stop bitching at me and take those cock-gobblers out! Comprende?”
You mutter a list of death threats under your breath and rise up as much as you dare.
Wade’s dodging bullets as he darts around the abandoned parking lot in front of an equally abandoned three story warehouse. Most of the shots are coming from the third level.
You assess your odds. On one hand, Wade’s taken out all the active shooters in the parking lot. You don’t have to worry about any extra people firing extra bullets at you. Plus, snipers will make it much tougher to get into the warehouse --and to the trafficked mutants--before the shippers come in and whisk them away.
On the other hand, the team’s not that far out, you don’t relish the idea of running into direct gunfire, and --candidly--watching Wade get shot at is pretty entertaining. Ten out of ten, would watch again while eating popcorn.
Ultimately, you decide you can’t justify not doing what you can to save the trafficking victims. You grit your teeth and jog a few feet back. “I’m going to blast those dipshits.”
“Y/N, no.” Colossus’s voice. “Wait for us.”
“I can’t risk the traffickers taking away another group of mutants,” You say as you line up your shot.
There. The center window on the third level. Based on the schematics, it should line up with a long outer hall that you can use to blast the snipers out of.
“No, it is too dangerous.”
“I thought that was the point of these missions.” You steel yourself and focus in, taking a second to feel the air around you. “Wade?”
“Yeah?”
“You better hope I don’t die, dumb cunt.”
And, with that, you’re off. You use your powers to propel you halfway across the parking lot, then launch yourself off the ground and through the center window.
The brief looks that you catch on the sniper’s faces before you blast them out the opposite ends of the warehouse are priceless.
You look up, ready to land --and almost have a coronary.
A wall with a decorative window is speeding towards you, and you’re not slowing down the way you thought you would.
“Shit! I miscalculated!” You barely have enough time to make a wind shield before your plowing through the window, into something that makes a vague screaming noise, and onto the floor. You roll over broken glass and metal rebar before smacking into a wall, cracking the drywall.
Pain. Lots of it. In your back, your sides, your head, your legs. You groan and almost vomit, it’s so bad. “Fuck. I hurt myself.”
“Where are you?” Colossus asks, panic evident in his voice.
“On the third level. Follow the wake of destruction and the sounds of pissed off swearing. You won’t miss me.” You let out a gasp of pain as you try to pick a few gnarly shards of glass out of your side. “Shit, I rolled through glass. Oh, fuck, that hurts.”
“Can you move?” Cable’s voice this time, considerably calmer.
You shift yourself into a sitting position --which takes an amount of effort and stomach control you didn’t know you had--and almost lose your lunch at the sight of your leg. “Oh, definitely not. Shit, I fucked up my leg. I think my knee’s dislocated.”
“You shouldn’t have gone after snipers,” Colossus growls over the sound of men screaming.
“Would have, wouldn’t have,” You grumble back. “I cleared them out for you. You’re fucking welcome.” You take stock of your surroundings --glass, glass, more glass, crushed beer cans, glass--and gasp. “Holy shit.”
“What?” Colossus again, fretting as a mother hen must.
“Is that...” You peer closer at the dark, soft looking lump and gag. “Oh shit. That’s a body. I think I decapitated a guy when I went through the window.”
“Impressive,” Wade says. “I don’t think even I’ve managed that one.”
“You had to be clocking in pretty fast to pull that off,” Cable growls over the sound of his gun firing. “How quick were you moving?”
“I don’t know, dad, let me check my speedometer,” You grumble back. You lean back against the wall and try to breath for a minute.
It’s something no one ever thinks to tell you --being in pain is exhausting. On a good day, one might need to sleep off a particularly nasty headache. Now, however, when you’ve been running around and crashing through walls? You feel like a de-boned rag doll, like a pile of slowly melting Jello, like an over-wrung wash rag.
You let your head rest against the wall --despite the fact that you’ll probably get drywall in your hair--and slowly let your eyes close. You’re so... tired...
“Hey, kid, are you still with us?”
You force yourself to stir, fighting through the layers of pain. “Yeah. I’m here. ‘m jus’ tired.”
“Uh-huh. Why are you slurring your words? Did you hit your head?” Cable asks.
“I hit everything,” You grumble. “I thought that was clear from all my cursing.”
“Y/N, you need to stay awake,” Colossus orders over the earpiece. “Falling asleep now would be dangerous.”
“I’ve got something that’ll keep her awake. There’s a group of guys on their way up to you. They’re in the stairwell, T minus two minutes,” Cable says.
That does wake you up. Adrenaline courses through your system, pushing the pain down and forcing you into alertness. You take in shallow, gasp-y breaths as you try to put together a plan. “How much time?”
“Less than two minutes.”
You scan the room, searching for something to defend yourself with or a place to hide. Your eyes lock on to the decapitated dude’s gun and an idea starts forming in your head. “How many of them are there?”
“Five. Minute and twenty seconds.”
You lurch for the gun, barely biting back a scream of pain as your force your body to move. You yank a clip off the guy’s belt and shove it into the gun, then pull yourself under a table next to the door that --somehow--survived your impromptu trip through the wall.
You almost black out from pain as you get yourself into position, gun aimed down the hall. “How much longer?”
“Fifteen seconds.”
You count down and try to breath.
Right on cue, the door to the stairwell smacks open. Five burly men dressed in black, all carrying rifles, pour into the hallway.
You clench your teeth together and open fire.
Within seconds, they’re on the ground, as dead as the guy you decapitated.
“Y/N?”
You let out a ragged breath, wipe some blood away from your eyes --you must’ve cut yourself on your way through the window--and answer Colossus’s worried call. “Got ‘em. Stupid chickenshits. How’re we doing down there?”
“Only a few fuckers left!” Wade shouts cheerfully. “Then it’s down to finding the victims and releasing them!”
You let your forehead drop against the floor. “I’m gonna need someone to come get me. I doubt I could even fly myself out of here.”
“Stay where you are,” Colossus orders. “We will have someone up to get you in few minutes. In meantime, stay awake.”
Wade helps your effort to stay conscious by quizzing you on all manner of movie and music trivia. Most of his questions are inane at best, but it does the trick. You manage to keep your eyes open until you register a series of hurried, heavy thuds on the floor, and then--
The table you’re hiding under is tossed across the room like it was a piece of paper, and Colossus kneels next to you. “Bozhe moi. What did you do to yourself?”
“Nothing any self-respecting mutant with poor math skills and even worse impulse control wouldn’t do,” You mutter back. You roll onto your back with a yelp of pain and try to grin up at him --though you suspect it just comes out looking pained. “How do I look?”
“Like shit,” Cable answers, coming into view above you. He lets out a hiss through his teeth as his eyes scan you. “The fuck did you do to your leg?”
“Dislocated it, I think,” You manage. “I would try to set it, but I don’t know if my body’ll let me bend like that. It’s pretty pissed at me, all things considered.”
“Do you want me to try to pop it back in?” Cable asks.
“No, I don’t think that is good idea--” Colossus tries.
“Do it,” You interrupt. “I’d rather that happen than have it dangling around while I’m carried around.”
“Y/N--”
“Do it,” You snap at Cable, ignoring Colossus’s pleas for you to wait to let the medics do it. “Just give me something to bite on.”
Cable pulls a bandanna out of his fanny pack and hands it to you. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
You stuff the fabric into your mouth, bite down, and take a breath.
A second breath.
A third.
You close your eyes and nod. You let out a scream as Cable snaps your knee back into place --purely efficient and unhesitating--then rip the bandanna out of your mouth, roll up onto your side, and promptly vomit.
It hurts. Everything hurts. Your body feels like its on fire.
The pain is so intense that your arms give out and you nearly drop face first into your own puke.
Colossus’s massive hands shoot out and he catches you, pulling you up and into his arms.
The sheer amount of movement makes you scream again as pain ricochets around your body.
“I’m so sorry,” Colossus murmurs as he adjust his grip on you.
“It’s okay,” You assure him, even as your body demands sacrifice and as tears stream down your face. You can’t bear the idea of this gentle giant tearing himself up over hurting you. “It’s okay, big guy, it was going to hurt anyway. It’s okay.”
He starts carrying you down the hall, moving with extra care so as not to jostle you unnecessarily. “That’s my tough myshka,” he murmurs.
“Yeah,” you groan as he starts carrying you down the stairs. “Diving headfirst into trouble and hurting herself in the process.” Your head lolls against his shoulder, the toll of enduring the pain catching up to you fast.
You can vaguely hear Cable talking to someone --Ellie, you think, because he’s not nearly pissed enough for it to be Wade--and confirming they’ve found you and are on their way. You can hear the metallic clang of Colossus’s footsteps, but everything sounds like your head’s underwater --distorted, distant.
You can feel yourself fall asleep with every step that your favorite gentle giant takes. Your eyes slowly start to close--
Colossus’s voice brings you back to the surface. “Stay awake, myshka. You need to stay with us.”
You blink and stare at the way the thick muscles in his neck and shoulders work as he moves. “Myshka.” The word feels awkward and unfamiliar in your mouth, but you like it all the same. “What does that mean? Does it mean idiot? ‘cause I feel like that’s a fair accusation for you to make right now.”
He chuckles --a really pleasant sound that you hadn’t noticed how pleasant it was until this exact moment--and holds you a little closer so he can maneuver you through a doorway. “Not quite.”
You hum in response and watch the metal that comprises him ripple. “I like it. It sounds pretty.” You tuck your head into the crook of his neck, relishing the way the cool metal there soothes the ache in your head. “Colossus?”
“Da, myshka?”
“I think I hurt my everything.”
He chuckles again --a little more strained this time--and carries you to the jet. “Hang in there. We will get you fixed up soon.”
The second time it happens --not the exact second utterance of the word, but the second situation the word is uttered in--you’re hanging halfway off the couch in pursuit of one particularly evasive remote.
It’s not too long after the fuck forsaken mission where you’d tossed yourself through a window, and you’ve been confined to the couch on orders of both Hank and Colossus.
All in all, it isn’t too bad. The X-Force takes turns helping you get around and playing nurse --having Neena wash your hair for you had been a borderline orgasmic experience--and everyone’s pretty willing to keep you company --especially Wade, who’ll take any excuse he can get to introduce you to trash TV.
Right now, though, you’re on your own, and you’re trying to lift the remote off the ground via an air current and fling it to where you’re sitting.
It isn’t working. Not in the slightest.
You growl as the remote flops further away from you and you glare daggers at the traitorous device. “Stupid piece of shit.”
“Myshka.”
You look up and grin at Colossus. “Hey, big guy. ‘Sup?”
He raises an eyebrow at your precarious position, half-on, half-off the couch. “I do not think you should be laying like that. Is bad for your back, to say nothing of your knee.”
“Well, I didn’t start like this. I was trying to get the remote, but Wade left it all the way over there when he switched channels.” You grimace at the dramatics on the TV screen. “Is this really considered the pinnacle of modern entertainment?”
“For Wade, yes.” He scans the card outlining your prescription times --you’d gotten the good painkillers, plus some antibiotics after your little escapade at the warehouse. “Your next dose is due. You need to eat something.”
“Would that I could, but --alas--I am confined to this couch for the time being.”
He chuckles. “I can make you something, myshka. You only need ask.”
You smile softly at him --how could you not, when he’s being so considerate and sweet. “Thanks. I’m up for pretty much anything.”
He nods and walks to the kitchen --but not before he retrieves the remote and hands it to you.
You start flipping through the channels, trying to find something decent to watch, but realize that you don’t even know what to look for. A lifetime without TV has left you with absolutely no idea of what even qualifies as good.
“You know, you might find something easier if you watch more than five seconds at a time.”
You look up in time to see his gentle, teasing smile, and stick out your tongue in response as he sets two plates on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Very funny, big guy.”
He opens his mouth to respond, the pauses to frown --specifically at your injured leg. “I thought you were supposed to have your leg elevated.”
“I tried. I can’t get it high enough without the pillows toppling over.”
He stares down at you for a moment, frowning contemplatively, before heading back to the kitchen. “Wait there. I have idea.”
“I don’t know,” You call after him. “I was contemplating a breezy flight to Las Vegas. Play the slots, cheat at the Poker tables, try to win big.”
He chuckles --a warm, deep sound that you absolutely love--and reappears with a fresh ice pack in hand. “Cheating is against the rules, myshka.”
“Well, duh. How else am I going to win? I’m not that good at Poker.” You wriggle up on the couch so you can see him better. “So, what’s this idea of yours?”
He ducks his head, looking flustered. “Well, I need to eat as well. I thought I could sit with you, help keep pillows in place, that sort of thing. Would that be alright?”
You grin up at him. “Sounds perfect.” You wriggle up the couch a little more, making space for him, and pat the now open spot. “Come join me, big guy.”
He sits --the couch groans in protest as he settles himself on the cushions--and grimaces when he sees that the TV has defaulted back to Wade’s pick of Toddlers and Tiaras. “Is... is this what you want to watch?”
You grimace with him. “No. I just... I wasn’t allowed to watch TV growing up. I have no idea what to look for, much less what I might like.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then holds out his hand. “May I? I think I might be able to find something you will enjoy.”
You hand him the remote and start in on your plate, quickly taking your pain pills before you forget to.
He’s fixed you a sandwich --delicious, you’re sure, Colossus is a surprisingly good cook--paired with some grapes, carrots, and...
You grin as you pop a unnaturally bright, not remotely flavored like any cheese you’ve ever tasted Cheeto into your mouth. “You remembered my crunching addiction!”
He nods, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile. “Why you and Wade like those, I will never understand.”
“Hey, don’t knock ‘em until you’ve tried ‘em.” You stare up at the screen, frowning as an intro for some sort of science-y show plays. “What’s this?”
“American show called Mythbusters. I discovered it when I first came here. This is rerun from one of the earlier seasons.”
You settle into the couch with a shrug and start into your lunch. Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than the shit that Wade picked.
As it turns out, he’s absolutely right. The show is amazing, and you’re genuinely entertained by watching the two hosts blow up, break, and generally destroy anything and everything that they get their hands on
And, admittedly, you can see where he was pulled into the show as well. It’s surprisingly intellectual, and does an amazing job of making the math and science going into the tests and myths accessible to the average viewer.
About halfway through the episode you’ve finished your plate and the pain meds have kicked in nicely. You giggle from the high of the medication and roll back onto the couch.
Colossus’s hand settles gently on your uninjured leg. “Easy, myshka. Don’t hurt yourself.”
“I’m not going to hurt myself!” You declare as you flop around. Your hand smacks into the coffee table. You wince and cradle the stinging appendage against your chest. “Ow.”
Colossus helps settle you back onto the couch in a less haphazard position. “You were saying?”
“Okay, fine. I hurt myself. Happy now?”
“I will be happier when you settle enough to stop hurting yourself, myshka.”
“Myshka.” You giggle and repeat the word a few times before the buzz of the drugs makes you dissolve into laughter. “Why do you call me that? Not that I’m complaining --it sounds pretty cute.”
“Is a nickname in Russian.”
“Well, I gathered that much.” You grin up at him. “Don’t tell me what it means; I want to guess!”
“Very well.”
You peer up at him, doing your best to sift through the fog the painkillers have put you in as you try to puzzle out what he could be calling you. “It means ‘idiot,’ doesn’t it?”
He seems alarmed. “Why would I call you that?”
“I mean, I did toss myself through a wall and dislocate my leg in the process. I think it’s kind of warranted.”
Colossus shakes his head. “I would never. That would be unkind --and unwarranted.”
“Okay.” You eye him for another minute, then try again. “Fool?”
“No.”
“Lovable fool?”
“Also no.”
“Klutz?”
“It is not an insult,” he says, both amused and exasperated.
“Ah.” You grin at him. “Well, that’s nice --but I’ll have to completely rethink my strategy now. This might take longer than I thought.”
“I could just tell you.”
“No! No spoiling my fun!”
He shakes his head, smiling, and resumes watching the show.
On impulse --one which you will later admit was prompted by your growing feelings for him, not by the pain meds--you plop the pillow propping up your knee on his lap and swing your legs up so they’re draped over his legs. You flash him your nicest, sweetest smile when he looks at you, startled. “This okay, big guy?”
He nods, somewhat flustered. “Da, myshka. This is fine.”
You settle back in and finish out the episode with him, more content than you’ve been in a long time.
The third time it happens, you’ve admitted to yourself --and Wade, after some obnoxious prodding on the merc’s part--that you’ve got a crush on the metal man himself.
Which is why you’ve been careful to ensure that you’ve got a prime spot next to Colossus when you all head out to watch the mansion’s New Year’s firework display.
He has a fire extinguisher on hand, a sight that makes you laugh. “Ready for anything, eh?”
He grimaces. “Wade set up the display this year.”
You blanch. “Oh, god, is the house even going to survive?”
“Hey, have a little faith in me,” Wade whines as he skips past you to finish the final touches on the display. “I can have self control. When I want to.”
“Yeah, the question is does he ever want to?” You mutter as you watch Wade and Russell arrange the first row of fireworks.
“Speaking from experience, no,” Colossus mutters back.
“Ladies, gentlemen, noble gentry of non-conforming gender identity, and Yukio!” Wade crows from his position several yards down the drive. “Tonight is a date that technically doesn’t matter since time is a social construct, but we’re going to use it to celebrate surviving another year! That’s right, tell Death to go fu--”
“Language, Wade,” Colossus interjects over Wade’s tirade and the giggles of the younger mutants.
“Okay, okay. Take it easy, Long John Silver. Anyway, since the resident party poopers here at Casa de la Mutant have kiboshed getting drunk off our ass--”
“Wade.”
“Okay! Fine! Long story made short: fireworks! Lots of them! Cover your ears if you don’t want to wear hearing aids by the time you’re thirty!” He spins dramatically and pointed to Russell. “Russell! My man! Let it burn!”
Russell lights the fuse lines then books it to a safe distance with Wade.
You clap your hands over your ears just as the first set shoot off into the sky.
Multiple bursts light up the sky in what is a colorful, exciting, and surprisingly tasteful display, given that Wade and Russell were the ones that set it up. It takes several minutes for the main set of fireworks to finish going off. Once they’re done, Wade and Russell scamper back in to set up the finale.
By this point, you’re shivering. The New England weather in the dead of winter is none too forgiving to those who dare to venture outside without the proper protective wear.
You were contemplating running up to your room and grabbing a sweatshirt when Colossus reaches out and gently clasps your shoulder. “Myshka? Are you alright?”
You flash him a tight, ‘I’m-dying-from-the-cold-but-don’t-want-to-let-on-because-I’m-stubborn’ grin. “Yupp. A-okay.”
He frowns. “You’re cold.”
“Are you kidding? In this weather?” You feign wiping sweat off your brow. “We’re in a heat wave right now, big guy. How could I be cold?”
He laughs, then unzips the jacket he’s wearing. “Here. Use my jacket. We can’t have you freezing.”
Before you can protest, he’s draping the massive jacket around your shoulders, and oh--
It’s warm. Super warm. Like a beach in the tropics on a perfect sunny day warm.
You nestle into the jacket, sticking your stiff, chilled arms down the sleeves. You let out a happy, soothed sigh and relax a little. “Thanks, Colossus.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but ends up being cut off by a crazed screech from Wade.
“Alright, muchachos! Let’s blow this pop stand!”
You stick your fingers in your ears and keep them there until the finale’s done.
Once the smoke clears, most of the crowd does as well. Wade and Russell run off towards the back of the house, while everyone else heads inside.
Well, almost everyone.
Colossus sighs, and --with a good-natured smile--walks down the drive to pick up the remains of Wade and Russell’s firework display.
You scamper after him, far more content to spend time with him --even if it means helping with chores--than to head inside with everyone else. “Honestly, that didn’t end as disastrously as I thought it would.”
“Da. Wade and Russell were surprisingly controlled,” he agrees between coughs from the smoke.
You stop for a minute and make an air current to carry away the smoke. “There. That’s better.”
“Thank you, myshka.”
You bend to help him, but have to stop every few seconds to retuck the sleeves of his jacket so that you can physically grab onto the destroyed firecrackers. After the fifth time they slither down your arms, you drop the partially destroyed canister you’re holding and start rolling them up your arms. “Stupid motherfucking traitorous--”
Colossus chuckles. “Here, myshka.” He hands you the bag he’s been using to contain the trash. “You hold this. I can finish the rest.”
“Why do you need a jacket anyway?” You ask as you hold out the bag for him. “Aren’t you protected from the cold?”
“I am. The jacket is not so much for my benefit as it is for others. I may not suffer from the cold, but I still get cold. Complaints arise, as I’m sure you can imagine.”
You smirk. “That, and Wade won’t try to lick your arm to see if he’ll stick if you wear the jacket.”
Colossus groans. “Please, do not tell him about that. I would rather he didn’t try.”
You giggle and mime zipping your lips. “Secret’s safe with me, big guy.”
“Piotr.”
“Gesundheit.”
He laughs --actually laughs, full-bodied and joyous--and shakes his head. “My name. It’s Piotr. I thought you should know.”
You grin --it’s a surprisingly attractive name, which you suppose is fitting--and extend your hand. “Nice to meet ya, Piotr. I’m Y/N.”
He laughs again and shakes your hand with the utmost gentleness. “Very funny, myshka.”
You’re about to suggest that the two of you head inside when a loud explosion, a towering fireball, and a scream that sounds suspiciously like Wade emanates from behind the mansion.
Colossus --Piotr--mumbles something under his breath that sounds like a curse. “We should go check on that.”
You grimace and nod. “Come on. Let’s go see what Wade’s done to himself now.”
The fourth time it happens, two things are different.
One, you’re undoubtedly head over heels for Piotr. He’s sweet, kind, an unbelievably good looking, steel and all.
Two, you almost murder someone.
To be fair, that someone was Scott and he absolutely had it coming.
Let’s set the scene again: You had pissed Scott off.
No surprise there. You’re unbelievably good at it. You’re so adept that you could list it as a skill on your resume.
This time around, it’s because you and Wade had utterly booby-trapped his room for April Fool’s day.
In fairness to you and your best friend, you hadn’t done anything lethal or extensively damaging to his property. Just a bunch of toilet paper, some dyes in his shampoo, conditioner, and shower head, and Wade had swapped all his underwear with cheap lace thongs.
For the record: Scott Summers wears tighty-whities, and that’s a fact you wish you didn’t know.
Scott smacks his hands on the kitchen table. “This is an unfair violation of my personal space!”
You roll your eyes. “It was April Fool’s Day, Scott. Also known as ‘everyone’s free game.’ I mean, come on, Wade and I didn’t even do anything that serious! No blood, no bombs, no breaking anything.”
“You switched out all my underwear with lace thongs!”
“That was Wade. If you want a refund, you can talk to him or the returns person at the nearest Walmart.”
Scott scowls. “Admit it! You’ve been out to get me since the day you got here!”
“You’ve been a pain in the ass since the day I got here. What do you expect me to do?”
“That’s your excuse? That’s your excuse!” He lets out a pissed off laugh and shakes his head. “You’re such a piece of fucking work. No wonder your parents kept you locked in your room. I bet you were a nightmare to deal with.”
You can feel your blood run cold as a dangerous calm sweeps over you. “The fuck did you just say to me?”
“Scott,” Jean says, stiffening in her seat. “Run.”
Scott doesn’t hesitate or offer an apology. He bolts for the back door.
You sprint after him, hot on his heels. You’ve killed before, and you’ve never been so tempted to do it again until this precise moment. “I’m gonna fucking murder you, Summers! You cowardly piece of shit!”
“I didn’t mean it! I misspoke!”
“Like ass you did!” You chase him around the back lawn, managing to scoop up a baseball bat left out by the kids as you do. You use your abilities to summon a burst of wind and push you forward. You close in and move to swing the bat--
It catches on something metal, resulting in a loud clang.
You almost fall off your feet when you can’t jerk your bat away from whatever it’s smacked into and look up.
Piotr frowns down at you, hand wrapped around the barrel of the bat. “No, myshka. This is not appropriate.”
“Not appropriate? On the contrary! This is completely fucking appropriate!” You yank and wrench at the bat. “Give me my bat! I’m going to beat his head in!”
“Uh, no!” Wade interjects. “No erasing Cable from the timeline!”
“Fine! I’ll maim Scott instead!” You brace your foot against Piotr’s legs and try to tug the bat out of his grip --not that it works, but you’re mad beyond reasoning. “Give me the bat!”
“No, myshka. Whatever he said, there is better way to handle this.”
“Oh, but there isn’t!”
“Myshka--”
“Do you know what he said to me?” Your eyes are stinging now, and your shoulders are starting to shake as you try to hold back angry sobs. “He called me a ‘fucking piece of work’ and said that it was no wonder my parents kept me locked in my room because I’m a nightmare!”
That gets a scowl out of him, and he turns to unleash it, full force, at Scott. “Is this true?”
Scott has the decency to look sheepish. “I misspoke.”
“No, misspeaking is calling someone an asshole, or a cunt, or a dipshit!” You snap. “It’s not saying their parents were right for abusing them!”
“I’m inclined to agree.” Professor Xavier emerges from the crowd of watchers, calm as ever. “Mr. Summers, if I could speak to you for a moment. Mr. Rasputin, I trust you can help Ms. Y/L/N calm down.”
Piotr puts a hand on your shoulder, holding you in place --not technically, he’d let you walk away if you wanted to--until the back door closes, leaving the two of you with some privacy.
You scrub at your cheeks with your sleeve, pissed off and embarrassed. “Well. That was a train wreck.”
“It did not go well,” he agrees. “You need to try to react better, myshka. Don’t let him get under your skin as bad.”
“Don’t let him bug me?” You paraphrase with a withering glare. “He said my parents were right for locking me in my room! How am I supposed to not let that piss me off?”
“Myshka, please, try to calm down. Let me try to get the words right,” he says, holding his hands up in a calming gesture.
You make in effort. It’s for him, after all.
“I am not saying Scott was right. He was very wrong, and he should’ve never said any of those things. I am just trying to say that beating him up all the time is not right response. You could get hurt, or someone else could get hurt in process. I think it would be better for you to get someone --the Professor or myself, maybe--when these things happen so you and Scott can work out your differences instead of fighting all the time.”
He’s right, you know he’s right, but outright admitting defeat right now is too great a task. Instead, you contort your face into a comical pout and whine up at him, “Aw, but my way is more fun!”
He smiles softly, a clear indicator that he knows that you know he’s right. “Perhaps, but more dangerous too.”
“Well, yeah, that’s why it’s fun.” The silence that follows lets the pain you’d been holding back rush to the surface. You grit your teeth together as tears sting your eyes. “Fucking asshole. Where the fuck does he get off?”
“People say unkind, unwise things when angry. Scott is one of those people, unfortunately.”
Your lower lip trembles, and you duck your head to hide the fact that you’re starting to cry. “I just... the fuck did I do to deserve that? What did I do as a kid that warranted locking me away?”
There’s a soft grunt as he kneels, and then Piotr’s hands come up to hold your shoulders. “Myshka, look at me. Please.”
You do. Because it’s him. You love him, and you know he’ll never make fun of you for crying.
“You could never do anything to deserve the way your parents treated you,” he says once you look at him. “You are wonderful, and smart, and kind; they were fools not to realize your worth.”
You smile, deeply touched by his unabashed praise of you. “Thanks, Pete. You really know how to make a girl feel special.”
He gives you a bashful smile. “I would hope so. You are... you are my best friend, Y/N. I hope you know that.”
“You’re really special to me, too. I’d use the term ‘best friend,’ but I’m afraid Wade would hear, and he’d throw an absolute shit fit if he finds out he has competition for that category.”
Piotr laughs. “Say no more. I understand. Wade is Wade.”
“No kidding.” You hesitate, then ask, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but... can I have a hug? I’m feeling really shitty right now.”
“Of course, myshka. You don’t have to ask.”
You step forward into his arms, winding yours around his neck as you lay your head against his shoulder. You let out a soft sigh as his arms wrap around you, and you melt into the hug.
It’s soft --despite the fact that he’s literally made out of metal--and loving and exactly what you needed.
It’s a complicated, overwhelming moment due to the anger you’re feeling at Scott, the painful memories of your parents that are playing in your mind’s eye, and the utter joy thrumming through your body at being hugged by your crush.
You press against him and start to cry again, unable to really do anything else.
Colossus rubs his hand up and down your back, as gentle and careful as ever. “It’ll be okay, myshka. You’re going to be alright.”
And, despite how you’re feeling right now, you know he’s right. After a moment, you pull back with a sniff. “Thanks. I really needed that.”
“No problem, myshka.”
You grin as he stands. “You use ‘myshka’ more than you use my real name. What’s up with that?”
“Sorry, I--”
You stop him before he can build up too much steam. “No, big guy, I like it. I was teasing you.”
He smiles and shakes his head. “You are nothing but trouble.”
“And yet you keep hanging out with me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you liked it.” He gets oddly flustered at that, so you move on to spare him any embarrassment of trying to respond. “I still haven’t figured out what it means though. I’m starting to think that you just made it up and are messing with me.”
“It is real word. I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“I know that, Pete. I’m just yanking your chain.” You pat his arm as you cock your head to the side. “So, it’s supposed to be something nice. Is it ‘idiot’ in the sense that I call Wade an idiot? Like, in a loving sense?”
He rolls his eyes. “Nyet. I would not call you ‘idiot’ because it’s unkind. Besides, you are not idiot.”
“Okay, okay. Just thought I’d check.” You quirk your mouth to the side. “Is it a term for ‘friend?’”
“No.”
“Does it mean ‘genius?’”
He laughs. “No, but I would venture to say you are one.”
You grin. “Careful. I will absolutely use you as a reference when I apply for my official certification. What about... ‘super awesome badass?’”
Another laugh. “No.”
You wrack your brain for ideas, then waggle your eyebrows at him, unable to resist an opportunity to rib him a little. “Does it mean ‘sexy?’”
His reaction is immediate. He ducks his head, rubs the back of his neck, and laughs nervously. “Ah... no.” He mutters something else in Russian, and smiles bashfully at you. “That would be something Wade would say, but not me.”
You chuckle. “Fair enough.”
“You know, I could just tell you--”
“Uh-uh. I’m having fun with this. Don’t spoil it for me.”
The ‘myshka’ moments, as you call them, are a near constant part of your life after that. Colossus uses the term more than he uses your own name --not something you mind, though. You’re beyond tickled that he has a nickname for you.
You’re head over heels for him, plain and simple. Just about anyone can tell --except, as it would seem, Piotr.
Or, so you think.
Everything comes to a head a couple months after the hug moment on the back lawn, a little over a year after you arrived at the X-Mansion.
It’s a rainy day, which is almost a calamity in and off itself --it’s the week during the school year where all the teachers meet together and talk about curriculum and meeting student’s needs, which means the X-Force --since none of you, save for Piotr, are teachers--is stuck with babysitting duty.
Fortunately, Piotr volunteered to help, but that still leaves only four adults --Wade doesn’t count, since his impulse control is worse than some of the kids present--and three teenagers to try and manage a group of fifty bouncing, shrieking, hyperactive kids.
Neena ends up having the great idea to play hide and seek --which is perfect, since everyone can play.
You draw the short straw and start counting in the kitchen while everyone runs off. Once you reach ‘one hundred’ you pop up and run up to the library. You heard Piotr’s heavy steps heading in that direction, and an easy find will help you once you start tracking down your kids.
That, and you want to spend some time alone with him, but you’d only admit that to Wade. Under duress.
You pop into the library, victorious smile already tugging at your lips...
And he’s not there.
The library’s not empty, just notably Piotr-less. Instead, a large, pale man dressed in a t-shirt and jeans with black hair and astonishingly blue eyes sits at one of the tables, drawing something on a sketchpad. He looks up when you walk in, seemingly startled.
“Oh --uh--sorry.” You smile politely. You’ve never seen this guy before --and you’d know if you had, because he’s capital H-O-T hot. Massive, thick muscles, smooth skin, gorgeous eyes, chiseled features, the whole nine yards. “Uh, you wouldn’t have happened to see a metal guy walk by, would you? About the size of your average giraffe, made out of steel, probably muttering something about safety or rules.”
A small smile tugs at the corner of the man’s mouth, and he points to the right.
“Thanks.” You pop back out of the library and dart down the hall to the right. You make it about halfway down, then stop.
The man’s face is stuck in your head. He looks so familiar, but you can’t place where you’ve seen him before.
You jog back to the library, hellbent on scratching this itch that is currently occupying your brain.
The man looks up as you walk back in, smiling slightly as he watches you. He doesn’t look uncomfortable or confused. If anything, he looks borderline amused.
You stare at him, trying to match up his handsome features to the faces that you know at the mansion. You’re sure you’ve never seen his face before, but he also looks so fucking familiar...
And the man, he’s just... letting you stare at him. He’s staring back at you too, brow raised and the corner of his mouth lifted up into an small smile.
And that seals it for you, because there’s no way a stranger would be chill with you just ogling at them like this.
He’s almost the same size as Colossus, you think as you study him.
And that’s where it starts. You know Piotr draws --he teaches art to the kids here, actually. Honestly, this guy looks like him, too. He’s the right build, the right size, just shrunk down a little.
But it can’t be. You peer at his face, and --yeah--the features are right, just a little more delicate and articulate than Colossus’s metal ones. You do a double take, then let out a hesitant, “...Piotr?”
The man laughs --which settles it, because you know that laugh-and nods. “Da.” He sets down his sketchbook. “Honestly, I thought this would work better. I guess I can’t get anything past you, myshka.”
You grin at him, awestruck. “Holy shit... I... I didn’t expect this.”
Because, good God, he’s handsome. He was plenty attractive as a metal titan of justice, but he’s downright gorgeous like this. His hair is dark and fluffy and lays nicely against his forehead. His cheeks are rosy and flushed, and he actually has dimples that you’re guessing don’t show up with the metal armor in place, because you would’ve definitely noticed them before now for as much time you spend staring at his face.
And his eyes. His eyes are doing things to you. They’re making you think dirty, sexual things. You’re going to need to shower in holy water tonight. Holy shit.
“Oh my gosh!” You walk over to the table he’s sitting at and lean against the edge. “I didn’t realize you had a human form! I just thought you were metal all the time!” You hop up onto the edge of the table, look him up and down, and wink at him. “Looking babe-ly, my man.”
He chuckles --and it sounds completely different now that it’s not reverberating through layers of metal, but no less attractive. “Thank you. I prefer to be in my armor. Especially with Wade around.” He wrinkles his nose. “Wade... necessitates being ready for anything.”
You giggle, partially because he’s right, but mostly because you’re completely overwhelmed by his transformation. “Yeah, he does that.” You catch a glimpse of his sketchbook and gasp. “Whoa! You did that?”
It’s a detailed, intricate drawing of a bird. Well, ‘drawing’ might be underselling it; the bird looks so life-like that it looks like it’s about to fly off the page.
Piotr nods, cheeks flushing. “Da. It’s not finished yet.”
You make a choking noise. “Your ‘not finished’ looks like my ‘only in my dreams.’ Can you teach me how to draw? I’d love to get better.”
He nods again, smiling softly. “I would love to.” He leans forward in his seat, an excited expression on his face. “Would you like to see others?”
You nod eagerly. “Hell yeah.”
He shows you a few other sketches --there’s one of the gardens on the grounds, one of a set of mutant twins that shipped in from Russia a few weeks ago, and a full color one of a sunset that makes you gasp.
“Piotr, it’s beautiful,” You murmur as you gaze at the seamless blend of colors.
He cheeks flush again --he’s a blusher, apparently, and you probably shouldn’t like that as much as you do--and he smiles bashfully at you. “Thank you. This is not one of my better ones.”
“It’s wonderful,” You insist. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
“You can have it, if you want.”
You blink, startled and undeniably pleased. “Really? I don’t want to take it from you.”
“Really, myshka. If you like it, you can have it.”
“Piotr, that’s so sweet of you. I’d love to have it, if you’ll let me. Though, we should probably keep it in the sketchbook until the day’s done. I wouldn’t want it to get accidentally destroyed.”
You both move to close the sketchbook at the same time, your hands brush against each other. You gasp and stop to clasp his hand --still massive, especially compared to yours--in yours. “Oh my gosh. I’ve never felt you without your armor before!”
Thank goodness that Wade isn’t with you right now, because he’d never let you live that comment down. Unwitting innuendos aside, you’re right --you’ve never touched him out of his ‘armor mode’ before, and his skin is so much softer than you’d expected.
Your fingers make it halfway up his hand before you realize that you’re probably --definitely--crossing way too many lines right now. You withdraw your hand and let out a nervous chuckle. “Sorry. That was weird of me.”
“No, it’s fine,” he says quickly, cheeks flushing scarlet. “It feels... good.”
Well. That wasn’t the response you were expecting.
Encouraged by his reaction, you brush your fingers against the back of his hand again, moving them up and down his hand, over his wrist, and up his forearm.
He’s just as muscular as he looks. There doesn’t seem to be an inch of fat on him anywhere, even on his forearms.
You look up, ready to quip about how many protein bars he had to eat to look like this, but the words die in your mouth when you see the look he’s giving you.
He’s staring at you --gazing at you, really. His blue eyes are watching your every move, intense and... maybe even a little fond? He smiles softly as he lifts his free hand and lets his fingers graze against your forearm. “May I?”
You nod, temporarily rendered mute from his intense gaze and the overall earnestness of his expression.
His gaze lowers to follow his fingers as he touches you in kind, fingers brushing against your skin. He traces his fingers over your forearm and up to your shoulder, lips parted slightly as he studies you. Then, in a moment of boldness that you almost can’t believe, he lifts his hand to your face and grazes his fingers against your cheek.
You close your eyes and lean into his touch. You don’t try to stop your pleased smile or the soft, happy sigh that follows. What would be the point? You’re one hundred percent head over heels for this man, and if he hasn’t figured that out by now, he never will.
When you open your eyes again, you gasp.
He’s staring at you, at your face, with such a strong intensity that it almost knocks you over.
You watch as his gaze lingers on your lips for a long moment, then flits back to your eyes, and you decide ‘fuck it’ and lean in to press your lips against his.
Piotr’s reaction is almost immediate. His free hand comes up to press against your back, pulling you towards him.
You slide off the table and into his lap, perhaps a little too happy to close the gap between the two of you. You let your hands rest against his muscular chest, bracing yourself against him.
After a moment, he breaks the kiss, gasping slightly. “Bozhe moi.” He looks utterly delighted as he smiles at you. “I have wanted to do that for... for a while.”
You grin back, completely blissed out. “Yeah. Me too.” You wince when you catch sight of the clock and realize that you’ve spent half an hour in the library with him. “We should probably go find the kids. It’s been thirty minutes.”
Piotr stands --careful to not knock you over--and tucks his sketchbook under his arm. “Da. Lead the way.”
You walk out of the library together, hand in hand.
The rest of the day is spent sharing quick glances and smiles with each other, along with careful, appropriate touches.
Wade shoots you a look when Piotr’s hand lingers on the small of your back longer than strictly necessary, then gives you two thumbs up --along with a series of crass gestures that make you roll your eyes--when you nod and grin excitedly.
Fortunately, the rain lets up about an hour before dinner, which means that you can take the kids outside to eat dinner. Hot dogs and fries --along with plenty of healthy sides, thanks to Piotr--are distributed to all the bouncing, happy kids on brightly colored disposable plastic plates.
You sit next Piotr during dinner and occasionally manage to share sweet looks and smiles with him before one of the kids distracts one or both of you. You can’t help but grin when you watch him converse with the set of twins from Russia, and you absolutely relish the way his leg presses against yours during the entire meal. You stay after everything’s done to help him clean up, hoping to have enough time to sneak another kiss.
Wade, the ever dependable wing man, manages to persuade or coerce the rest of the X-Force into herding the gaggle of kiddie mutants back into the mansion. He gives you an excited thumbs up, mouths the words ‘suck his face... or his dick’ at you, then disappears inside, closing the door behind him.
You smile up at Piotr. “Hey.”
He smiles back. “Hi.”
“What were you and the twins talking about?” You ask as you stack up a table’s worth of plastic plates.
“Mostly about what they think of America. They think the weather is too hot.”
You chuckle. “Yeah, it must be a big transition for them. Not gonna lie, it was really cute to watch you interact with them.”
He grins and raises his eyebrows. “Da?”
You nod. “Yeah. You’re really good with them.”
He ducks his head, cheeks flushing, then favors you with a bashful smile. “I liked watching you work with girl who can fly. I think you made her day when you showed your abilities.”
“She was a sweetheart,” You agree.
Piotr goes quiet for a moment, then leans forward and kisses your cheek. “She’s not only one.” He ties off the bag of trash from dinner and tosses it in a nearby barrel. “Shall we go for walk?” he asks when he turns back around.
You nod eagerly and take his hand.
The two of you walk towards the gardens, talking quietly about the day and what you think about the kids living at the X-Mansion.
Piotr leads you to a bench tucked behind a tree. He tugs your hand gently so that you sit down next to him and promptly presses his lips against yours once you do. “Sorry,” he says once the two of you part. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”
You kiss him again, simply out of the satisfaction that you can. “Don’t apologize. I was hoping you’d do that.” You snuggle up against him and lay your head against his shoulder. “So, do you want to know what my last guess for what ‘myshka’ means is?”
He grins at you. “Sure.”
You can feel your face flush as you gaze up at him. “Does it mean ‘beautiful?’”
He shakes his head. “Nyet, though you are very beautiful.”
You can help but glow under his affection. “Well, then, I give up. I have no idea what it means.”
“Does that mean I can tell you now?”
“Go for it. I’m dying to know.”
He takes your hand in his, interlocking your fingers. “It means ‘little mouse.’”
You frown at him. “Really? ‘Little mouse?’ I know I’m short, but I didn’t think I was that small.”
He laughs quietly. “It is not about height.” The tips of his ears go downright scarlet. “In Russia, it is term of endearment... that boyfriends use for girlfriends.”
Oh.
You have to take a minute to process the new information.
He’d been calling you myshka for the better part of a year now --knowing full well what it meant.
“Does... does that mean you liked me all this time?”
He nods, fixing with that intense, gorgeous blue gaze of his. “Da. You are kind, and smart, and unbelievably fierce, and achingly beautiful. You swept me off my feet the moment I met you with your humor and spirit, and I have been in love with you ever since.”
“Why didn’t you say something? I could’ve kissed you months ago!”
“You told me not to say anything! What was I supposed to do?”
You slump back against the tree. “Man, the one time my stubborn streak really doesn’t pay off.”
He chuckles and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I think it all worked out in end.”
“Oh, there’s no way I’m disagreeing with that.” You grin up at him. “So, Mr. Rasputin, is this your way of asking me to be your girlfriend?”
He blushes, but nods. “Da.”
You’re pleased beyond words, and simply opt to kiss him again.
“May I take that as ‘yes?’” he asks when you break the kiss, slightly breathless.
“Da,” You reply, earning a soft, sweet smile and an equally sweet kiss from him.
#sass writes#piotr rasputin x reader#colossus x reader#piotr rasputin imagine#colossus imagine#x men fanfiction#this is literally so fluffy#also#most of this was written at 5 am#take that for what you will#god i love colossus so much#he's so precious
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The Time I Took On the Military (And Won)
Considering the staggering amount of votes this one got, here you go!
ok so it’s my sweet sixteen and i took two of my closest friends paintballing. We started off alone with just the three of us. Me and this girl formed a truce so we could take out her brother. He found a building with a roof to shoot from so i was criss crossing and sliding behind shelters.
Long story short with this guy i snuck up behind his building and shot him point blank in the ass while he was climbing a ladder.
Except now his sister is my enemy and a much larger threat.
I criss cross my way back narrowly avoiding being shot. I skid to a stop behind this bush with a really gappy fence and go GOOD ENOUGH BRING IT ON and poke my muzzle through. I cant particularly see but I remembered seeing her in a little chapel window. I aim that general direction and open fire. I immediately hear HIT. When she comes out i see where i hit her. Right between the eyes like I couldnt do that again if I tried. Ill take it.
We’re back at the base ops and these massive dudes come over like “yo wanna join us we need more players” and we’re like “oh ya bud the more the merrier” so we go over and everyone is freaking massive and there’s us three tiny lil teenagers. I over hear they’re a military team and just sigh because i know im dead this is just my luck
Apparently they wanted us so that they could simulate having civilian to protect, who were also armed. (They did a piss poor job of this seriously wtf)
So the game starts and im seperated from my friends. They’re on the opposite team.
Im sticking near the leader and just generally trying not to die. He’s giving me orders as softly and nicely as he can, thinking Im scared. I mean really who wouldnt be?
I wasnt. I was ready to kick butt. When I am silent, be afraid, im planning something.
Next thing i know he’s gone. Shot, running, hiding i dont know and i dont care i gotta move there are way too many heavily armed men in these woods for me to be comfortable
Im trekking through this woodsy area keeping as low as possible because the other team has a freaking sniper and im not dealing with that no thanks im just a tiny teenager leave me alone ok
Im doing my thing and trying to find people to shoot because everyone is mia when i see people ahead.
Not my people.
And they havent seen me yet. Im looking around looking for some decent cover or somewhere to take them by surprise and there is nothing. The entire area is just thistle bushes with massive thorns. And then my idea hits. A wicked, mischievous idea. I grin behind my mask and get ready to lay my trap.
I plop myself down right in the middle of these thistles and army crawl to the path their taking and just lay still.
These guys dont see me.
They’re not expecting someone to be in these bushes cause who is that dumb.
The one dudes boot is an inch from my hand and i spring up and yell SURPRISE before shooting him right in the chest and then the two behind him. Three down, way too many to go. I ran away cackling like a witch
Dont die dont die dont die
I head out again and meet up with some more of my group. They stick me at the back to keep me out of harms way. A valiant, if ineffective effort
Enter enemy attack.
We get split up into two groups to flank them and i end up alone again. I moving slowly, spinning in a slow circled because I am EFFED
I’m a tiny lil sixteen year old girl, all alone, with about 15 guns pointed at me. I was completely surrounded. My comrades who had fled to live and fight another day are now making haste towards me like WHO LEFT THE KID BEHIND HELP HER and im like
hell no i got this
I went absolutely ape shit on their asses.
Shots are flying around me like crazy and everyone is screaming. One of the enemies shouts FALL BACK WHAT THE FU–
I hear one if my partners like HOLY SHIT SHE’S ALIVE
I barrel over one of the attackers and side arm his gun away. I break out from the Circle of Doom and make a mad dash for cover.
I leap into the air and spin to fave them. Im not getting shot in the back I an a WARRIOR
I just start spraying with a battle cry to rattle the heavens
I smack back down to earth and land in a crouch
Every single one of the attackers were shot, usually multiple times, and i didnt get shot once. Frankly no clue how i managed but I am NOT questioning it. Luck or skill I dont care
Eventually it was down to two people. Me and the other teams captain.
He’s a big, scary dude. He had a custom gun that could pop off a frankly alarming amount of shots per second.
The odds arent exactly in my favour.
We find each other right in the middle with trenches and tiny little metal fences for cover. Im walking through like plz dont shoot me i am small be nice
The dude pops up from a trench and starts firing. No mercy here.
Fine then.
I duck behind a fence and it is the most pathetic thing i have ever seen.
I have barely enough room to crouch behind it because it’s so small. The other dude finds a nice big trench and big fence the lucky lil jerk.
So we’re poppin up like weasels trying to get a shot in. I cant hit him, he cant hit me. Up and down and up and down. My fence angles down ever so slightly so im tucked in as tightly as I could. My fence is rattling as shot after shot after shot hits. The shots stop, i poke my muzzle over the edge amd lay down some fire.
And the cycle repeats
I get tired of this little exchange so the next time he goes down i lay on some cover fire and sprint like hell for a near by trench like i am just bookin it thinking dont shoot me dont shoot me imma kill you
i slide in and pop up just as he rises to take a shot. Except im not where he thought id be.
I shot him right in the side of his bald lil head.
So i won. My team legit carried me on their shoulders back to base ops
And that’s the time I, a sixteen year old girl, beat a team of militarily trained behemoths
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Mimneskesthai - Misrecollect - Amnesia pt 5
Series: Mimneskesthai
Title: Misrecollect
Chapter: Amnesia pt 5 (1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | AO3) (Hypomnesia)
Fandom: Red vs Blue
Characters: Alpha AI, Church, Tucker
Story Summary: Church blamed his faulty memory on the head injury. Everything was all mixed up. He’s pretty sure he’s got the most important bits down now; if only Captain Flowers would stop asking. Honestly it’s like Agent Florida—Flowers—Florida?—thought Church would give him away.
Oh.
Oh.
Well this explained a lot.
.
Wherein Alpha’s memories are even more of a mess than previously thought.
a·mnesia – n. modern latin
1. loss of a large block of interrelated memories; complete or partial loss of memory caused by brain injury, shock, etc.
2. loss of memory
from –
a- – prefix; latin
1. Not
-mnesia – suffix; latin
1. (condition or type of) memory
from –
a·mnesia – n. greek
1. forgetfulness
Tucker didn’t realize he’d dozed off until Church dropped down next to him, his own riffle in hand and a small sack with binoculars that Captain Flowers didn’t know about. Church nudged Tucker with the end of his riffle, which jerked the other man straight awake. Tucker twisted and blinked behind his visor.
“Church?”
“Hey man, sleeping on the job?” Church snorted. “That boring out here?”
Tucker sighed and dropped his head against the wall. “Fuck. Yes,” Tucker groaned out. “I can’t see shit which doesn’t help. If only I could have that sniper riffle…” Church dug out the binoculars and dropped them onto Tucker’s lap.
“There. You’re lookout, I’m backup,” Church replied and Tucker stared at the binoculars.
“You do realize I have to take off my helmet to use these right?” Tucker said slowly.
“That’s why you’re lookout,” Church said; a part of him sounded almost teasing.
“I don’t know…can you shoot worth shit?” Tucker questioned and tilted his head in Church’s direction.
Church snorted. “I’m the best there is,” he bragged.
Tucker pulled his fingers up to the latch and started to pull off his helmet as he huffed, “Yeah, Mr. Brain Damage? How would you know?”
“How would you know?” Church shot back with a huff. Tucker shook his head as he finally pulled the helmet free. Tucker picked up the binoculars and leaned around the side. He shifted down onto his belly to create a smaller target and began to adjust the sights on the tool to see over at Red Base. Church watched him for a moment. “Thanks, asshole,” he muttered. “For the aspirin.”
“Whatever, dickface,” Tucker shot back.
“Anything interesting?”
Tucker huffed and kicked a leg in Church’s direction. Church yelped and toppled over. He quickly righted himself, Tucker could tell by the way Church scrambled and how his voice puffed angrily behind his visor.
“What the fuck was that for?” Church yelled, voice reaching a pitch bordering on shrieking. “I just asked you a fucking question; like seriously? Why’d you go and kick me you fucktard?”
“Shut up, I’m focusing,” Tucker said dryly, although there was a faint undercurrent of laughter that Church picked up.
“Oh fuck you.”
“Buy me dinner first and we’ll see,” Tucker shot back and Church fell silent. Tucker listened as Church settled himself back down and tried to discern what the Reds were doing. For some reason the yellow and maroon one were just standing around atop their base. Didn’t they know how easy a shot from a sniper that made them?
“Well?” Church grumbled.
“They’re just standing there,” Tucker sighed frustrated and pulled back from the edge. He set the binoculars aside. “Out in the open like a bunch of dickweeds who have no idea how snipers work.”
Church blinked behind the visor while Tucker pulled his own back on.
“Seriously?” the disbelief turned his normal words almost reedy.
“Yeah. We could wipe them out easy at this rate,” Tucker grumbled. “If Captain Flowers would just give me that sniper riffle.”
“In your dreams,” Church snorted. Both settled back down and ignored the red base, guns in their laps as they sat behind the safe walls of the base’s roof. “What loadout did you see them with?” Church asked after a moment to settle.
Tucker rolled his shoulders. “The two idiots up top just have your standard BR55 Service Riffle from what I could see. Nothing too spectacular.”
Church grunted acknowledgement and mumbled something about, “Probably the standard service loadout then,” before he relaxed and said louder, “That’s good. Maybe we can get Flowers to let us actually form a battle strategy?”
“Don’t you have to be fighting fit before we do that?” Tucker pointed out. “I mean dude you came out of your weird coma less than a week ago!” Church turned his head toward Tucker. “When Flowers said you were fine and we were up scouting that cliff don’t you remember that you passed out like, three times, and once almost fell down the damn thing?”
Church turned his head away. “I know,” he said tiredly. “These fucking headaches and the—I know, alright? I’m just a fucking liability right now.”
“Nah, I didn’t say that,” Tucker leaned back and folded his arms behind his head. “With those guys as our enemy? You’re fine. I doubt they’ll do anything interesting. They seem kinda stupid.”
“I’m just holding us back,” Church mumbled, and something about that tone struck Tucker as odd.
“Dude, fuck you are holding us back,” Tucker pointed out. He shifted forward and leaned over his riffle to look at his fellow Private. “Man I don’t know where you got that attitude but seriously? This is the best fucking time I’ve had in a while. I mean there could be more chicks to look at but seriously? This is pretty damn chill.”
“Yeah?” Church asked. He looked to Tucker and—Tucker sucked his lip between his teeth.
“Yeah, man. Best fucking time I’ve had in a while,” Tucker said. Church huffed a laugh and leaned back.
Tucker felt a bit bad—something about that tone just hurt and given what Tucker saw earlier—Tucker forced himself to breath normally. He wondered where Church even got that bullshit idea anyway. Tucker shook his head and glanced around the edge of the wall.
“What do you say we ditch guard duty and go do something else?” Church asked.
“Like what?”
“Fuck if I know. Monopoly?”
Tucker twisted back around to stare at Church.
“Monopoly?” he asked, curious.
Church shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to play.”
Tucker stared, and stared, and then laughed from underneath the helmet. Alright, he could do this. Yeah, he could definitely do this.
“Alright, but let’s make it more interesting,” Tucker cackled and got to his feet. He offered Church his hand.
“How so?”
Tucker hummed in thought, and then a wicked idea crossed his mind. “Strip Monopoly.”
“What?!”
Ah, the squeak of a man who didn’t know what he was getting into. Tucker grinned.
“You heard me, asshole. You in?”
Church was silent, and then he grinned and grabbed Tucker’s hand. “Oh you are going down, you fucker.” They both headed back into the base without a further word.
Hours later Florida would wake up to loud, reedy, shrieking curses coming from Church, and pleased crows coming from Tucker. He’d lay there for a while, and then smile in slight fondness at the memories that the noises dragged up. Still, he’d hate to ruin their fun, but at the same time oh how he’d enjoy it. Finding Alpha naked and cussing out Private Tucker just made the entire experience even more amusing.
#rvb#red vs blue#lavernius tucker#alpha church#leonard church#captain butch flowers#agent florida#fanfic#fic: mimneskesthai#fic: misrecollect#fic: amnesia#cussing
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Time’s Running Out: Charlie
FINALS WEEK UPDATE HAPPENED, WOOOO. Thanks everyone who's made it to chapter three, y'all are rockstars. <3
Summary: The Reds and Blues; and their respective Freelancers, find themselves stranded on a strange planet named Chorus. Secrets, lies, and the unexpected seem to lie around every corner, and there might be even larger threats looming over the horizon.
They’re possibly even less ready for Chorus than Chorus is for them.
Pairings: Lots of friendships, Suckington, Yorkalina, Chex, eventual Yorkimbalina, possible others.
Start
Previous
Next
Ao3
There was, Kai had to admit, a few upsides to having a broken leg.
Primarily that she no longer had to do leg day.
“I said sprints, Private Tucker!” Wash yelled.
“I’m going to spit in your next meal! Except it won’t be spit! If you know what I’m talking about!”
Kai cackled. “Doesn’t he know you’re into that by now?”
“Don’t encourage him—wait, what?”
Kai leaned on the crude crutch Donut had helped fashion for her. “You’re still mad at him for hiding the wrist thing, aren’t you?”
“He should have told us,” Wash muttered.
“So… you’re making him do squats until his ass looks as good as yours?”
“That is not why I’m making him do squats!”
“Uh-huh,” Kai said skeptically.
“Kai,” Wash groaned. She stuck her tongue out at him.
“Where’s Caboose at?”
“He’s having a bad day,” Wash sighed. “Church yelled at him again.”
“Shit, what about this time?”
“He got him confused with Epsilon again,” Wash said, sounding absolutely exhausted. Kai hobbled forward the few steps it took to get to him, leaning against him. He relaxed the second they touched.
Caboose’s bad days were getting more and more frequent. Epsilon was better with things than Church was. And Church was… moody, without Tex or Carolina around. York’s absence was bothering him too, but getting him to admit that was harder than Tucker when it was his turn to pick what kind of sex they were having.
“You’re doing pretty good,” she said. “You know. For a cop.”
Wash snorted slightly, pressing his helmet against hers. “Don’t think you’re getting out of this. I know you’ve got physical therapy with Doc later today.”
“Screw you! Maybe I’ll let Doc give me another physical!”
“Wait, did you sleep with—you know what? I don’t want to know.”
Kai huffed, mildly put out. “You could at least act jealous.”
“We’re already making Tucker jealous by cuddling while he does sprints.”
“Oooh,” Kai said, grinning at the thought. “You know—”
“We aren’t having sex outdoors, where anyone could see us, just so you can prove your broken leg hasn’t slowed you down,” Wash said.
“Boring,” Kai said, scowling.
Wash chuckled and placed a hand on her knee.
Tucker finally returned, collapsing in front of them. “You’re both the worse,” he gasped out, chest heaving like it did the last time Kai and Wash had double teamed him. “Seriously, the absolute worst.”
“I told you I was going to break you,” Wash observed. “You seemed pretty enthusiastic then.”
“I thought you meant in a hot sex way!” Tucker hadn’t moved from the ground. “Not this weird masochistic drill sergeant thing!”
“Oooh! We totally need to role play that later! Or, wait! We can do the pizza guy and the—”
“Let’s table that conversation for later,” Wash said, placing his hand over his visor. “Tucker… you know I just want you to be able to look after yourself. In case something happens.”
“Dude, that’s why we have you. What’s the point of the badass boyfriend if he can’t defend you from the forces of evil?”
“Abs?” Kai suggested.
“Well, that too.”
“Tucker, please,” Wash said quietly. “With Tex and Carolina gone…”
Things were different. Wash was the only Freelancer around, and it was… it was pretty weird. It was like when York had left Blood Gulch, making Tex their only Freelancer.
Dex and the rest of the Reds—and Doc, because it wasn’t like he was going to go far from wherever Donut was—had set up shop across the canyon. Dex came to visit her mostly, since it was hard for her to walk around with her leg. Sometimes she drove over in the tank, but it made Sarge twitchy, and a twitchy Sarge usually led to squeaky Wash, so she tried to save that for special occasions or instances of extreme boredom.
There was something in the air that Kai didn’t like. When Tex had been the only Freelancer, Kai had ended up alone for a long time.
She didn’t want to be left alone again.
Felix grinned as he listened to Locus in his radio. It helped make the chatter of the idiots following him almost tolerable.
The crack of Locus’s sniper rifle was almost comforting as he started to pick off the survivors. One down, then two, then three. Finally, the group was dead, and Locus moved in.
“Still no sign of the simulation troopers,” Locus observed in Felix’s ear. Felix frowned, puzzled about where they could have gotten to.
“Sir!” One of the kids—Andersmith—yelled. “Footprints! Leading into the forest!”
Damn, he was observant. “Well, let’s follow them,” Felix said. Running into Locus was as good a reason as any to kill off these kids.
His real radio crackled to life. “Sir! Three of the survivors split off; I think they were heading for higher ground!”
“Find them,” Locus ordered. “We’re about to have company.”
Felix tightened his grip on his rifle. Things were off-script. And while Felix might normally enjoy the chaos, Control wouldn’t be happy. And Control not being happy usually affected their paycheck.
“Keep it quiet,” he ordered into his helmet as loudly as he could without risking the kids picking up on it.
Locus growled slightly in his ear. He didn’t like the situation any more than Felix did. Everything was spiraling out of control; first the ship hadn’t crashed properly, and now this? Survivors didn’t make it off the ship.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Fuck—he’d lost Palomo when he wasn’t looking, too caught up in his own thoughts. He turned around, craning his neck. “Palomo!”
There was a loud screech, and for a second Felix thought that one of the pirates had found and killed the irritating Rebel. The sound of Palomo yelling, “Wait, you’re not a Fed!” crushed those dreams quickly.
Felix crashed through the underbrush, but the others beat him to it. “A survivor?” Matthews breathed. “General Kimball!” Felix opened his mouth to tell the kid not to bother—they were far out of range—but there was a screeching noise and the radios connected. Felix felt another piece of the puzzle fall out of his hands and tumble out of sight. There was no way the radios should be working. What the fuck was going on? “Kimball! We found a survivor!”
“What?” Kimball was incredulous.
Felix bit his tongue, knowing Locus was listening intently through the radio, and walked towards the others. They were surrounding the fallen form of a soldier in dusty-gold armor—Palomo, it seemed, had panicked and attacked. And succeeded. Whoever they were dealing with clearly couldn’t be that much of a threat.
“Kimball!” Jensen said. “I recognize him! He’s Private Harris!”
“Who?” Felix asked.
“You know!” Jensen said. “From the Reds and Blues.”
“Felix,” Locus said lowly. “New orders from Control.” Only Felix would be able to tell the tension in Locus’s voice as he said that, the danger hidden in those words. Whatever the orders were, Locus wasn’t happy about it. And if Locus didn’t like the orders…
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Felix snapped to both Locus and Jensen.
“Control wants the Reds and Blues alive.”
God. Fucking. Damn it.
“Confirmed, Kimball,” Felix said, scowling down as he knelt to check on the guy. The lucky bastard’s visor was shattered, probably beyond repair. Felix shrugged to himself and tugged off the guy’s helmet, curious about the face underneath.
“Felix?” Locus demanded softly, and Felix realized Locus had found a perch nearby, was observing all of this through the scope of his rifle.
“Control wants them alive, remember?” Felix said, so softly that the others couldn’t hear him over their own discussions about the Reds and Blues and their achievements.
“Well then, Private Harris,” Felix said out loud, for the benefit of Locus as well as the idiots surrounding him. “Where the fuck did your friends get to?”
<Cee, I can’t reach Alpha anymore.>
Carolina worried a sore on her lip with her teeth. “And no sign of Delta?”
“None,” Texas said, dumping a load of firewood next to the fire.
Carolina gritted her teeth. “I was asking Epsilon.”
“And our range is about the same,” Texas said with a shrug. “So it doesn’t matter. We’re out of range. No messages from anyone.”
Carolina gritted her teeth and poked at the MRE they had grabbed. Texas didn’t require food, which at least made supplies easier. At least there was one upside to having Texas as a companion on her search for York.
“There’s something weird about the way the radios are behaving,” Epsilon said, appearing on Carolina’s knee. “It’s… I can’t think of why half of the frequencies aren’t working at all, and the rest are only working short range.”
Tex raised one shoulder in a shrug. “Could be an atmospheric thing.”
“I guess,” Epsilon said, but he sounded doubtful.
“You heard that chatter a few miles back?” Texas asked, looking at Carolina directly.
“Yes,” she said tensely. “It sounded like…”
“The bubble shield,” Tex finished for her. “Freelancer tech on this planet?”
“One hell of a coincidence,” Carolina had to admit.
“Pirates, Freelancer tech… could be fun,” Texas was goading her, she knew it. “It’d just be a short detour.”
“They might know something about where the other half of the ship crashed,” Carolina acknowledged. Maybe a fight would relax her, too. Maybe it would let her meet Tex’s helmeted gaze for more than five seconds at a time.
“You run ahead,” Tex said. “I’ll catch up.”
Epsilon started to prime the speed boost.
The fight was painfully short—the knots in Carolina’s shoulders didn’t loosen at all, and it was still just strange to have Tex fighting beside her.
Tex picked her way through the crates the pirates had been guarding, calling out what she found while Carolina tried to interrogate the sole survivor.
“Just shoot him already,” Tex said coldly when it became clear their prisoner wasn’t going to talk. “If he knows where it crashed it’s probably in his logs. We don’t need him alive for that.”
“Is that your answer to everything?” Carolina asked sharply.
Tex’s response was simply to raise her gun and do exactly that. Carolina didn’t flinch as the blood splattered everywhere. She’d seen worse. Done worse too. But there was still something unsettling about the cold, mechanical way Tex executed the prisoner.
“You’re still upset about that?” Texas sighed, kneeling down to pick up the helmet.
Carolina went still. “We’re not talking about that,” she said.
“Then stop looking at me like that!”
“I’d rather not look at you at all,” Carolina snarled. “You had no right—”
“You made that call. I never agreed to follow it. You’re not the only one he hurt, Carolina.”
“I’ve got a location!” Epsilon yelled, clearly determined to not let this conversation take its natural course, which Carolina was fairly certain would only lead to blows. “It’s called “Crash Site Alpha”, it’s pretty far from here, but I bet we can make it in a few days.”
“Damn it,” Carolina cursed.
“He’s York,” Tex said. “He’s survived this long without us, he can make it a few days still.”
Neither of them wanted to admit the possibility that York hadn’t survived the crash.
“Let’s get going then,” Carolina said.
“You haven’t slept since the crash,” Texas said flatly. “You’re going to sleep at least four hours.”
“You—”
“I’d really rather not have to punch your lights out again, Carolina,” Texas said. “Last time, it took you forever to wake up.”
Carolina’s scowl only deepened at the reminder.
“Sleep, Carolina,” Texas said. “A few hours won’t make much difference for York.”
York woke up with a splitting headache and his HUD broken.
<York!>
And here York hadn’t realized Delta was capable of raising his voice. An AI shouting in his head hurt. Or that could possibly be the concussion.
“I’m fine, Dee,” he muttered. “Just… give me a second, okay?”
<Healing unit is running at full capacity.>
“Great,” York groaned. “The others?”
<I cannot detect anything in range. But it is possible that the radiation from the ship’s engines are interfering with my sensors.>
York groaned, getting to his feet. The world wobbled before readjusting. He possibly had a concussion. Not good. Those always took forever for the healing unit to fix up. “Anyone nearby?”
<Several officers are in the room to your left.>
York’s movements were jerky at first, but he made his way over to the room. Two were unconscious, one was dead. York woke up the first two, and the three of them headed further into the ship, looking for other survivors.
The ship was a disaster, and everywhere they turned, there were bodies. Holes had been ripped through the hull, smoke filled the air, and York was pretty sure they were currently walking on the ceiling instead of the floor.
“How could this have happened?” One of the crew memebers demanded. “This—I don’t understand!”
“We can figure that out later,” York said grimly. He was very aware of the shotgun strapped to his back in that moment. He had a feeling he might need it sooner rather than later. “Right now, we need to find our way off this ship. I think there might be a radiation leak.” Delta buzzed nervously, still desperately trying to find the others, with no luck.
“Fuck,” the other said.
There were fifteen survivors altogether that York could find before they stumbled out of the ship.
“Where the hell are we?” One of the mechanics whispered, looking around.
“No idea,” York said numbly. Delta was just as confused as everyone else, not recognizing any of the flora that they could see, or even the positions of the stars.
They were in a ship graveyard—the broken husks of ships laid out clearly enough that every single one of York’s instincts were telling him it was a trap. This many ships in one area made it seem like a junkyard, rather than a natural crash site. There was no way this was a coincidence, but he had no idea what kind of thing could have brought down so many ships in one place. In the distance lay a forest; tropical, from the looks of it, thick and dark and green.
“Let’s move towards the forest,” York said, gesturing broadly. “Maybe there’s a town nearby.”
“Right,” one of the others said—a pilot, York thought, but he didn’t have a name.
It was slow going—several of them were injured, and at one point York and one of the larger women had to carry one of the others, but eventually they limped into the forests.
“You guys try to make contact through the radios,” York ordered, although Delta was already screaming out, trying to contact Tex, Epsilon, or Alpha, to no avail. “Martinez, Nguyen—” he named the burly woman who had helped him carry the injured crew member and the pilot, whose names he had learned as they made their trek into the woods, “you two, let’s try to find higher ground. See if we can spot a town or anything.”
“I’d ask who the fuck put you in charge, but…” Martinez said darkly, glancing around. The other twelve were hanging back, hands to their radios as they tried to call for help. Delta was trying to boost the signal as best he could, but there was… something was still interfering with the radios, and Delta didn’t know what it was. York didn’t like it when Delta didn’t know things. It made him twitchy.
“We’re really all that made it?” Nguyen said softly, looking over her shoulder.
“There might be others,” York said, placing a hand on her shoulder. Fuck, she was young. “It looked like it was only half of the ship back there.”
<By my calculations, it is likely the others were on the other half of the ship.> Delta said, and the feeling of relief that was sinking into York’s bones wasn’t entirely his own. <It is possible that they are fine, just out of range.>
York decided to put his faith in the Reds and Blues’ impossible luck. If anyone could survive the impossible, it was them.
There was a rustling noise in the distance, and York’s eyes narrowed. It sounded like someone moving. Someone following them, maybe?
<York!> Delta sounded panic. <The others are no longer attempting to reach out on their radios!>
“Fuck,” York said. He glanced over his shoulder. “You two, keep going, I think I’ve heard something.”
With his damaged HUD, York couldn’t tell if it was a rabbit or a person in the bushes, and Delta couldn’t get a proper read. But he crept forward anyways, Delta’s terror humming in his head bad enough to give him a migraine. But he felt it too—maybe he’d felt it since they’d entered these woods.
York had been hunted before. He knew what it felt like to be dogged for hours, days even on end. He’d gotten lucky the last time. He wasn’t so sure he’d like to try his luck on surviving another round.
But he was feeling that way again. And that made him nervous.
He nearly tripped over the kid in armor. And all the AI enhanced reflexes couldn’t make him catch his balance in time to block the rifle butt to the face, knocking him out cold on the spot.
Damn it.
When he woke up, Delta was absolutely silent. Still present, sure—York could feel Delta’s anxiety curling up in his chest like a knot—but completely and utterly silent. It was an unusual occurrence, and one that put York right on edge. Something was very, very wrong.
“Ugh,” York groaned, looking around, trying to get his bearings. He’d been taken out of the woods and propped up in the back of a warthog which wasn’t moving yet. His helmet was gone—but, given the complete mess his visor had been, that really wasn’t all that surprising.
“Easy there,” a voice said. “You’ve got a concussion. Try not to move too much.”
“The others,” York rasped. “Where are—”
“We found the other scouts,” the man said. “Martinez and Nguyen? They’re alright. The others are making sure they have medical attention. But we weren’t fast enough for the rest. I’m sorry.”
York’s head was swimming, but he managed to turn his head enough to look for the source of the voice. At least Martinez and Nguyen made it, he thought distantly, even as he wondered what the fuck had happened to the rest of the group. And more importantly, why the three of them hadn’t been killed like the others.
His eye finally focused, and he saw orange. Not Grif orange, with the yellow undertones that made him yell so much, but orange. Orange on grey and a hint of steel…
“Finally,” the voice said, mocking and confident. “I thought you were going to be out of it all day.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” York groaned, trying to remember exactly what had happened. The last thing he remembered… “Where am I?”
“Welcome to the planet Chorus,” the man said, leaning against the warthog next to York, helmet tilted in a way that indicated a smirk.
York straightened up slowly, cradling his head in his hands. “Well hey there Felix,” he said, finally placing the voice and why Delta was being so quiet. “Long time no see.”
#Steph Writes#The BFF Verse#Time's Running Out#Kaikaina Grif#Agent Washington#Lavernius Tucker#Felix#Locus#Agent Carolina#Agent Texas#Epsilon#Leonard Church#Agent York#Delta#Red vs Blue
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