#thinking about doing badge comms again I miss doing them!
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Shiny the kenku!
Copics and polychromos pencils
#thinking about doing badge comms again I miss doing them!#kenku#badge#fursuit badge#crow#corvid#raven#art#copics#polychromos#myart#shiny
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TaserBones Prompt fic: Natasha intervenes.
TaserBones for @ibelieveinturtles
Prompt: “You two are not getting out of there until you’ve sorted this whole thing out!”
She should have known it was a setup. After three years of an on again, off again relationship with a certain Strike team leader (or jack-booted thug, as she thought of him in the off times), Darcy was bound to come into proximity with Brock Rumlow eventually. Of course, when she happened to be in the same general vicinity, there happened to be a tornado siren go off and somehow they ended up sharing a panic room.
Peeved, Darcy sat as far away from him and closed her eyes tightly, hoping she’d give off enough of a “Leave me the heck alone vibe” that he wouldn’t try to talk to her.
No such luck.
“I take it you’re still mad at me?” Brock sighed.
She didn’t answer.
She was so tired of his inability to make up his mind about their future and his only dating her when it was convenient. Darcy was also mad at herself for still wanting him, despite his serious commitment issues.
She heard Brock sigh again.
“Okay. I deserve that.”
They lapsed back into heavy silence again and Darcy thought she heard the all clear signal go out, but when she tried to enter the code to open the door, nothing happened.
After several attempts, she plopped down to sulk again, muttering curses.
Brock’s attempts were no more successful and she smiled as she heard him chewing someone out over his comm. She wasn’t gonna lie, she kinda loved Bossy Brock.
“You two are not getting out of there until you’ve sorted this whole thing out!” came a voice that made them both jump.
“Oh, come on, Nat. Really?” Darcy yelled back. “You know what an asshole he is.”
“Of course. But you two still need to talk. Neither of you are very good at communicating.” Nat responded firmly, making Darcy scowl, even as she admitted to herself that that was kinda accurate.
“But what if I have to pee?” she tried.
“All the more reason to start talking.” Was the unsympathetic answer. “You’ll thank me later.”
Darcy rolled her eyes as silence fell again, but she finally let herself look at Brock. He wasn’t smirking or flexing at her as was the norm with him. Instead, he just looked tired and there was a sadness in his eyes that made her soften a bit.
“I’m still annoyed with you, but something is clearly wrong. Spill it, Brock-o.” She commanded.
“Nothing’s wrong.” He shrugged. Darcy wasn’t fooled for a second.
“Lying won’t get us out of here any faster, dude. I know you better than that,” she told him bluntly.
“Yeah, you do,” he admitted, a brief smile flickering across his face before he sighed again, fidgeting with his badge a bit. (A nervous habit, she recognized.)
“I’ve ruined everything I touch,” Brock sighed. “Us, my team. My sister is mad at me. My Mom actually gave me her Disappointed Face, which you know means She’s pissed at me.”
Darcy winced. She’d seen The Disappointed Face in action and she’d been very glad it hadn’t been aimed at her.
“Oh, yikes. What happened?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“Exactly what you predicted,” Brock admitted. “I kept running from my issues with my job, which ironically caused a lot of those issues to begin with. Jack called me out, I blew up at him and he requested a transfer. Now, the rest of the team walks on eggshells and our performance suffers. Also, I really fu..reaking miss you.”
Darcy bit back a smile at his attempts to cover his language. That was highly uncharacteristic of the Brock Rumlow she’d dated. He’d dropped f-bombs like confetti.
“No need to censor yourself on my account. You know I’m a champion potty mouth,” she reminded him.
“That I do,” Brock said, a faint twinkle in his eye. “I promised mama I would cut back on the swearing now that there are small children in the family.”
“That’s very considerate of you,” Darcy agreed, trying not to melt at the thought of Brock as an uncle.
“What do you think Romanoff meant by “sorting it out?”” Brock asked cautiously after another beat of silence.
“That’s what I’m wondering. If she expects us to talk all our issues out, we’ll be here all day,” Darcy. She gave Brock a pointed look. She was trying hard not to think about how being in close quarters with him was driving her crazy.
“Yeah. I’ll get straight to the point: Darcy, I was an asshole to you and I’m sorry. I’ve regretted it every day since.”
“You’re not just saying it so Nat will let you out?” she asked a trifle skeptically. He sounded sincere, but Darcy was wary.
“I’ve wanted to say this for a long time. Had no way to contact you. Oh, congrats on the PhD, by the way. Find any wormholes yet?”
“Thanks, and no, but we’re investigating a very interesting anomaly that required bringing in the big guns to keep things locked down.”
“So I hear.”
Brock looked at her with a mix of fondness and the “here we go again” look that he always wore when she was in a science whirlwind.
“Please no bilgesnipes this time?” He requested.
“I can make no promises,” she answered coyly. “Kinda like you with relationships.”
“Oof.” Brock shut his eyes and shook his head. “You still don’t pull your punches, do you, Lewis?”
“Nope. You used to praise me for it, as I recall.” She reminded him cheekily, making Brock grin proudly.
“You have quite the right hook, which quite a few idiots found out the hard way. Me being one of them.”
She’d socked him good during a sparring lesson and had never let him live it down, though her hand had hurt for quite a while afterwards.
“We’ve established that, though you seem to be a remorseful idiot, at least,” Darcy said, quirking her head at him in acknowledgment.
“Hey, Nat. What are you requirements for getting us out of here? I really do have to pee!” She called to the ceiling. Brock snorted.
“I’d prefer you kiss and make up, but a nice hug will suffice,” came Natasha’s voice.
“Oh, trust me. You do not want our make-up kiss on camera. Definitely NOT PG-13.”
She winked at Brock, who grinned wickedly, obviously fond of remembering the last make up kiss, which had quickly turned into much more. One thing about them, they had pretty amazing chemistry, which Darcy had missed in her brief attempts to date other guys.
Brock stood up and reached a hand up to her to help her up. Darcy took it, shaking out her left leg which had fallen asleep.
“So, what’s it gonna be, Lewis?” He asked.
She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tightly, thinking about how perfect she fit against him. Brock got the message and hugged her back in a very satisfying manner.
There was a hiss and the door slid open. Natasha stood in front of them, hands on her hips.
“Congratulations on communicating like adults. Rumlow, if you screw this up again, James and I will make sure there isn’t enough left of your body to find.”
This terrifying threat made even badass Brock swallow a little, even as he nodded in acknowledgement.
“So…..find any cat memes lately?” He asked her.
Darcy gave a delighted laugh. Their whole relationship had started because she’d sent him ridiculous memes just to annoy him. If he was suggesting a do-over, well, this was a good place to start.
“I’ll blow up your phone,” she promised.
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just this once pt.3
a/n: i know im technically a day late, but we stopped very late. but its here! and its gonna be a decent amount of parts, so be prepared, besties
Word Count: 2,439
Warnings: smut implications
Pairing: Natasha x Reader
(pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6.1 pt.6.2 pt.6.3 pt.7 pt.8)
Natasha had to admit, she hated how understanding Maria was. She had gone home and told Maria what you had said, expecting to become single almost as soon as she had finished talking. But no, Natasha had finished her rant, and Maria had taken a deep breath before saying “I’m sorry,” and dragging her into a hug.
She would’ve handled a “we’re over” much better.
But it helped ease some of the guilt that she was carrying around with her. It lifted some of the weight that had been keeping her head down and feet dragging. And with Maria being the most understanding person in the world, now she could live her life. Did she forgive herself? Fuck no, but at least she could move on with Maria.
It helped that you kept to what she had told you.
In the months after learning the truth, she never saw you. Her feet never took her to your suite, her thoughts never trailed to that night. Well. Not during the day. She… didn’t want to talk about the dreams.
Natasha was able to go a solid month without seeing you, and even though the back of her mind kept telling her to talk to you, she had stayed away. She had kept to her “honey do” list, went on her missions, and just lived her life.
Until Fury stuck his nose where it didn’t belong.
“You two have a mission.”
Natasha looked over to where you were standing, over in the corner as far away from her as you could be. Your eyes were down, only occasionally darting up to look at Fury when he was talking. She could see the fins on your arm flare out a bit before relaxing again, along with the slight twitch of your gills.
“Can this mission not be done with one person?” Natasha asked, her eyes still locked on you; you shifted your weight from one foot to the other.
“It requires stealth and…” Fury looked over at you and sighed. “Gills.”
“And here I thought you kept me around for my good looks,” you teased with an upturn of the corner of your mouth.
“When do you need us?” Natasha asked, and your half smile fell as quickly as it had appeared.
“You leave bright and early, 0400.”
With that, Fury left the room, leaving you and her alone. She took note of your fins staying flared, and took that as her sign to leave. Your feet shuffled, and she moved slower just in case, but you never reached out to her. That was all Natasha needed to head back to her room to prepare for tomorrow.
Tomorrow came far too soon, and it felt like only moments later that Natasha was standing in the hangar, watching you prep your gear.
Incorrectly.
“Your holster’s backwards,” Natasha pointed out.
“It is not, I’m testing something out,” you shot back without looking up.
“Whatever you put in there is going to fall out,” she continued.
You ignored her, but tried to turn it around without her noticing. She did. A silence fell over the both of you as you continued to get ready. Natasha had already gotten all of her stuff, but you continued to move around. You grabbed your belt and a harpoon, all of them quickly attached at your hips.
You maintained your relentless pace, her face pressed against the wall as you held your hand to the back of her neck. She felt you thrusting into her, most likely leaving a bruise on her ass and hips, but all she knew was that it felt so good she could only think of one thing-
Natasha turned her head away, a slight blush dusting her cheeks. If anyone noticed, they didn’t say. She refused to look at you until you stood up straight, geared up and ready to go. Your suit told her that there was going to be some sort of underwater aspect, and that gave her a bit of insight as to what was expected of the both of you.
The quinjet ride was awkward, to say the least. You stayed in the back while Natasha flew. She was thankful that you were keeping your distance. If you had been close, it was very possible that Natasha would have lost her damn mind.
Your suit always did do something to her.
You hadn't even bothered to take your pants off; just pulled them down far enough for you to get your strap out. Her fingers scrambled to grab purchase of something, anything, but your suit was still wet from the mission. Almost as wet as she was.
Natasha shook her head, trying to physically remove the memories. She was going to kill Nick when she got back.
She needed to focus on the mission. There was no need for it to be anything other than a mission. Get in, map out the building, get out. You would cover the lower levels, she would cover the upper, it shouldn't take more than an hour.
It was a slow descent to the checkpoint, but easy enough. You spent the last few minutes braiding your hair, keeping it out of the way and showing off the shaved part of your head. Natasha remembered teaching you how to tie those braids.
Once the quinjet was landed and you were both on solid ground, it was straight to business.
"Once you get back to solid ground, your pants and gear should be in a backpack marked on your locator," Natasha said.
"We'll meet up in the eastern stairwell," you continued, not even skipping a beat. It was like nothing had ever happened.
"Comms on?"
"Gonna miss me?" You asked, cocky as ever, but you turned the comm on anyway.
"Just get moving," Natasha huffed with a roll of her eyes. "The sooner we get in, the sooner we're done."
"See you in a minute," you winked and mock-saluted before jumping down into the hole that would be your entrance.
It's what she hated about you; how you could so easily act like nothing had ever happened.
Natasha closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Just one. Then it was time to get moving. She finished pulling her cap down, mostly covering the top half of her face before finishing the walk to the guarded entrance
She flashed a badge and they let her in without a word. One of her easier infiltrations, if she were being honest. Just went to prove that as long as she acted like she belonged, no one would question her. It was easier to blend in if you acted like there was no need for it.
Starting from the top, Natasha made her way down the building, mapping corridors, potential hidden rooms, rooms of interest. By the time she made it to your meeting point, she had marked more than enough information to assist in future missions.
All she needed was your half and she could go home.
The door to the stairwell was thrown open, slamming against the wall and causing Natasha to flinch ever so slightly. You were still soaking wet, trailing water behind you, and you didn't have your gear. In fact, you didn't have anything.
"What happened?" Natasha asked. But the sound of an alarm being set off was answer enough.
"It wasn't me," you stated simply.
Yelling echoed in the corridor behind you, and you gave Natasha A Look. That was all she needed before you both took off running down the stairs, skipping three or four at a time. She heard a *squeak* and turned around just in time to see you fall flat on your ass with a loud grunt.
“Get up,” Natasha groaned.
She didn’t wait for you to get up on your own, instead decided to grab your arm and yank you up. Except for the fact that she had forgotten how wet you were, and how slippery your skin could get, and you ended up falling back onto your ass a second time.
“Some help you are,” you growled as you managed to push yourself back up onto your feet.
“If you weren’t such a freak, this wouldn’t even be a problem,” Natasha shot back.
You both continued running, finally reaching the bottom floor just in time to hear echoed footsteps a few floors above you. Natasha opened the door and pushed you in, quick to follow after. She shut the door and grabbed the extra harpoon bolt from your hip, shoving it between the door and the wall while you protested.
“Get going,” she said as she continued to push you forward, looking for a way out.
“We could always go through the sewers,” you suggested with a shrug when you both came to a halt in an intersection that you swore you hadn’t seen yet.
“I’m not escaping in a fucking sewer,”Natasha shot at you. “You were supposed to find us a way out.”
“It’s not my fault someone ratted us out! I don’t like being stuck with you either!” You shouted back.
“Oh sure, after all of that bullshit a few months ago, now you don’t want to get stuck with me?”
“Listen, I said I was-”
“They’re around the corner!” A voice shouted. You and Natasha shared a look, and Natasha managed to pull you into a closet just in time for footsteps to be heard coming in your direction.
“We should’ve taken the sewer,” you whisper-yelled as Natasha tried to ignore how close to you she was.
If you two had been any closer, you would’ve been inside each other, and not in the enjoyable way. Natasha’s arms were pinned in between the both of you, and she could feel your ribs under her fingers. Her ear was pressed to your body; she could hear your irregular, three-pump heartbeat loud and clear. There used to be a time she would have enjoyed being so close.
You were both silent as you waited for the footsteps and yelling to die down. Even when they had faded, you stayed still, hoping that they wouldn’t open the closet as a last resort. Your body heat was comforting, and Natasha almost found herself forgetting the danger that was just around the corner. But then you gave an awkward cough and shifted, and Natasha was brought back to the fact that this wasn’t supposed to be enjoyable.
“I think we’re safe,” Natasha mumbled.
“Let’s get out of here,” you agreed as you cleared your throat again, still incredibly uncomfortable.
You reached around her and opened the door, the both of you practically falling out of the closet. When Natasha stood up straight again, she brushed the nonexistent dirt from her suit and avoided your gaze at all costs. Only when she had regained her composure did she turn to you again.
“You mentioned a sewer?” Natasha asked, completely defeated.
You nodded and started running in the opposite direction of the yelling, leading her down corridors until you both reached a manhole cover. Natasha could smell the sewage without opening it, and she could only imagine how terrible it would be once she jumped in. But there didn’t really seem to be any other option, and you were already prying it open just enough for them to slip in.
“Ladies first,” you gestured.
“Gee, thanks,” Natasha groaned as she took her last breath of semi-pure air and jumped in.
The stench was worse than anything Natasha had ever smelled before. All the death and ruin she had witnessed, and she still believed that this was worse. She couldn’t even attempt to guess at what was causing the smell, but she didn’t think she wanted to know. Maybe it would be a little more tolerable if she just pretended it was nothing.
You jumped in after her and pulled the manhole back into place, and just like that, it was like neither of you had ever been there. You didn’t wait for her as you started making your way out of the building, and Natasha quickly followed suit. She didn’t understand how you could breathe the air like it was nothing, but maybe it was part of your physiology. Maybe you were just lucky.
It felt like an eternity before you both ran into a ladder that would take you out of the sewer. You yanked the manhole cover aside and Natasha went up first, gasping when she smelled the fresh air. It was like being reborn, she thought. Her cells felt rejuvenated and her skin felt cleaner.
As soon as you pulled the cover back on, you both ran back to the quinjet as fast as you could. The stench of sewage followed you, stuck to your clothes; they would probably be incinerated when you got back to the tower. But you were out, and you could head back with enough confidence to tell Nick that you had at least gotten half of the building mapped out.
“You fly, I think I’m drying out,” you groaned. Natasha didn’t argue.
She sat in the pilot’s seat and set a course for the tower, wanting nothing more than a hot shower and a good sleep. But she looked back in time to see you stripping your suit off, groaning as it literally peeled off. Inch by inch, she saw your shoulders, your spines, your back, those abs.
You were never one to let anyone see you undressed, but Natasha loved that she was allowed. The way you shifted and twitched when her fingers ran over your skin, when you whined if she kissed that spot on your back. Loved the feel of your abs flexing as you thrusted into her at an inhuman pace that had her moaning and cumming for hours and-
“Nat, pull up!”
Natasha felt your hands covering hers, yanking up, and the real world unfolded before her eyes. The ground was quickly approaching, and the sound of the air rushing past the quinjet was enough to make Natasha’s hands shake. Only when the jet was back up and on course did she start to settle.
“Are you trying to get us killed?” You shouted, but Natasha just turned back to the front, trying her hardest to ignore the stinging in her eyes.
You grumbled and walked off, and Natasha could feel the frustration radiating off of you. But she didn’t really care anymore. She had nearly gotten you both killed because she had been too busy remembering you railing her. Natasha couldn’t do this anymore, couldn’t be around you anymore.
Not if she wanted to stay alive.
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past lives | 9
a/n: second to last part? idk. maybe I’ll write an epilogue to smooth everything over.
The sight of police cars swarming the outside of the office building sets you off. It couldn't be good, it could never be good in Gotham. You had called in late to finally get a new phone, which you were busy picking up. That was so abysmal at this point.
You basically jumped out of your ride share and the cold air hit you. You ran right up to the front entrance and saw the yellow tape. That sinking feeling began to set in. Something bad happened. Someone bad came here.
The officer keeping a crowd back is the first one you spot. You go up to her and show her your ID badge.
“I work here- can you tell me what happened?” you ask.
She shakes her head, “I can’t give out the details right now but you can come to the station later on.”
“Later on? Is anyone hurt? Can you at least give me that?”
She looks around at the people behind you before beckoning you closer. You inch over to her.
“As of right now eleven are dead, about a dozen injured.” she says.
You thank her and move towards the back of the growing crowd. Your hand goes into your jacket pocket and you hit speed dial number 2. It rings and rings in your ear but no answer. You try Fallon again.
Some part of you is screaming inside. Eleven dead. Eleven chances that it could be Fallon. Or twelve chances they are injured.
As you hold the phone up to your ear and you hear the ringing in your ear you hear the crowd become more antsy. You turn around to see the reason why and there they are. Fallon walking out with an office, one of the standard gray blankets wrapped around them.
You end the call and ran over to where they are. The officer looks as if they want to block you but Fallon meets you halfway. They don’t extend their arms around you, but you do around them. You can feel them shivering and you know it’s not just the cold.
“Fallon, you’re alright. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.” you say.
They start crying in your arms and you hold them tighter. A few moments pass when you hear them mumble something into your shoulder. You have to pull them back from you.
“It was horrible, they just came in and started stabbing people with fancy blades. I had to use Daniel’s body as a shield- my brother told me to do that in case of emergencies. He did that during that bloody bank robbery a few summers ago and-”
You push their head back into your shoulder and they begin sobbing again. And if it we’re for the info they just relayed to you, you would have gotten emotional too. Fancy blades? A lot of people probably have katanas and such in Gotham. But how many of them would target your office?
This was him. This was punishment.
You reach back into your pocket and pull away from Fallon.
“Use my phone to call your brother. Tell him you’re safe.” you say.
Fallon nods and takes your phone. You watch as they enter the information into your phone and start the call. On the other hand, your eyes are glazing over the crowd to make sure that none of the league’s lackies are hanging around.
It seemed like your past life was done being past tense. It’s not like you thought you could burry it. You knew things like this didn’t stay buried. But you had no idea that it was go about like this.
If Ra's knows that you and Damian share a father, Bruce is in trouble. Severe trouble.
Fallon hands you your phone back.
“He’s a few blocks away, gonna come with me while I go to the station. Nice phone by the way.” they say.
“I can go with you.”
“No, you need to stay here and handle your boss duties or whatever.”
“Yeah you’re right. Okay.”
“I added my number in there, so call me when you’re done. Be safe.”
Fallon then walks away from you, back to the officer they left behind. They no doubt had to give up their clothes for evidence. It had blood all over the front. Probably Daniel’s.
You spotted the clothing store across the street and it seemed to be open. You waited until it was safe to cross before jogging over to the shop. One of the workers met you at the door.
“Hi I need to buy a warm outfit for my friend, she’s gonna need a change of clothes.”
“Of course.”
The man lets you in and you run over to the first warm thing you see. A knitted black sweater, in Fallon’s size. Then you grab onto what felt like very soft sweatpants in a large. The man was waiting for you at the register.
The amount wasn’t your focus you simply swiped your card and it went through. Instead of taking the back out to Fallon, you kept it with the worker. You told him that Fallon’s brother would drop by and pick it up.
You left the store as you searched in your bag for the business card. It took a bit but you did find it. When you did you took out your phone as well and put in his number.
Your finger hit dial and it only took one ring for him to pick up.
“Are you okay? I’m watching the news right now.” he asks.
“I’m fine I wasn’t in the office yet. Are you available to meet?”
“Yeah I can come to you, or-”
You weren’t able to get another word in because someone had gotten the best of you. You heard tires screeching and suddenly two black SUVs were in front of you. Before you had a chance to run you felt an electricity shoot through your back.
It became too much and you felt your body grow weak, and your eyes slowly started to close.
The last thing you saw was a face from your past.
Nyssa.
-
Bruce went into his other mode fairly quickly. He had heard you speaking, what seemed liked cars coming to a screeching halt. And then he heard your phone thud. The call disconnected after that.
He alerted the others to come to the cave. Bruce knew something was happening but he didn’t know exactly what. He knew he was missing some details.
One things certain, Damian’s undercover mission to Gotham academy ended with a fire. Now there’s been a murder spree at your job. It seems like his children are being targeted. Who was next?
He got down to the cave with speed. Already waiting for him was Damian and Tim. The two watched Bruce bypass them and move toward the computers.
“I need cctv of of Gotham Square, around the Wordsworth building.” he said.
Tim jumped into action and was able to pull it up within mere seconds. Damian watched from behind the two of them.
“What’s this about father?”
“It’s about what happened at Gotham academy and now at the Wordsworth building. Someone’s on the attack.” he answered.
Damian wanted to dig for more, “what do those things have to do with one another?”
“Damian I need you to get in contact with Dick and Jason with their ETAs.” Bruce dodged the question.
He didn’t really need confirmation at this point. If his father dodged the question then the answer he’s thinking must be true. Someone got to you. Not someone, his grandfather. So he moved quickly to get to the comms.
Jason called in with a 15 minute ETA. Richard about the same. Damian knew that Jason would get here first though he was reckless with his bike.
-
Dick got out of his car and ran up the steps to meet the rest of the family.
“I’m here what’s the situation?”
“A kidnapping.”
“Woah- who is it?” Dick asked.
Bruce gave him a look before answering. “My long lost child.”
It was at that moment everyone looked, in some shape or form, at Damian. His face hadn’t changed one bit.
“The writer who interviewed us right?” Jason asked.
Bruce nodded.
“Alright do we have any idea who was behind it?” Dick asked.
Tim raised his hand and led the group over to the monitors. They all gathered around to watch you on the screen. You were on the phone- Bruce had told them it was him- and then the cars came. Before you could even fight off your attacked, you were tasered with a stick.
They watched you drop your phone and go down on the sidewalk.
“Look who shows up.” Tim said.
Then on cue, Nyssa al Ghul comes onto the screen. She picks up your phone and ends the call. Her henchmen lift you up and carry you into one of the SVUs. It’s all effortless after that. The cars drive off onto the main road and take that all the way until there's a blindspot. Like they knew it would be there.
The cars aren’t seen after that.
“What does the league want with your child Bruce?” Jason asked.
“Leverage? A trade-off? It’s not clear yet.”
“I’ve got cctv footage from the Gotham Academy fire.” Tim said.
Damian watched in real time as the video started playing. And down in the bottom left corner, there he was with you. You shielded him that day. Tim changes the angles and finds another feed and it gets a closer look at the both of you.
Bruce faces Damian, “Do you wanna explain this to us?”
#dc x reader#batman x reader#Damian Wayne x reader#Tim Drake x reader#Jason Todd x reader#Dick Grayson x reader#batfam x reader#PAST LIVES#redhood x reader#nightwing x reader
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Slumming It | Kevin Atwater X Reader (Chicago PD)
summary: When pulled into an undercover op for the Intelligence Unit, you couldn’t be more excited. The only person who catches your hesitation is your boyfriend. A lot is unsaid in the bullpen, your relationship being one of them.
gif is not mine :)
“You keep looking at me like that and they’re gonna know you’re slumming it with a uniform.”
Your words were punctuated by the complete zip of the knee high leather boots. But it wasn’t till the hell smacks the concrete of the locker room does Kevin look up at you, unimpressed with your statement.
You tilted your head at him, hoping it aided your humor. All it did was send the little eye contact held fleeting.
“I’m not slumming it with a uniform.” Kevin shook his head toward the ground, until he realized what he just said. “I’m not slumming it with you, either.”
Your hands found the other boot, a sigh escaping your lips at how much the tight fitting accessory is going to fit. “You’re tripping up, Atwater,” It glided up with little effort, giving you the chance to cross your legs and look across the room. “I can see Ruzek getting on your ass already.”
“Can you stop with-”
“Or is Halstead sending a sly smirk at you?”
Your light heartedness has no place in the backlit changing room and even little place in a situation like this. Joking about your boyfriend’s friends finding out about his relationship, with you standing there dressed like a hooker, all while working an undercover op...you should’ve stuck with commenting about how the color of the dress did absolutely nothing for your eyes.
Still, Kevin would’ve found a way to call you out. He was quiet but that just meant he spent more time listening. He was done with your ill timed jokes.
“Sorry.” You bit your lip, knowing you pinched a nerve. You didn’t know what to worry about more - the way you just embarrassed yourself in front of a member of the Intelligence Unit or how you insulted your boyfriend.
You hated that the latter took priority.
You found Kevin’s eyes, too dark to read. But the look he was giving you - an analytical gaze mixed with what looked like frustration with the furrow in his brow - had you resorting back to your go-to.
“We uniforms aren’t used to working anyone other than a partner.”
You could hear the worry in your voice growing as each word entered the space. If the tone didn’t solidify his assumption, the choked laugh you gave did it. Nothing said “Can I do this?” like a meek laugh.
Girlfriends worried.
Cops did no such thing.
Straightening your posture you released your hair held in a tight ponytail. Shaking it out, you offered a smile. “Having your team at my disposal just got to my head for a second.”
Kevin pursed his lips, his arms crossed defensively over his chest. He looked great, done up in his own undercover wardrobe. Of course, his wasn’t as extreme as yours.
You were pretending to be a hooker. Short dress, fishnet stockings and heels that were nearly half your height. And that wasn’t including the heel. You hadn’t looked in the mirror after Trudy bombarded you. The amount of lipstick you could just feel on you made you want to wipe it off.
Kevin on the other hand was just supposed to be him. Tall and handsome, a drink of water to fit in right among the elites of this Hookah Bar you were raiding. Minus the badge, you could’ve sworn this look of a blazer and dark jeans had made an appearance at your front door. As well as your bedroom floor at one point or another.
He walked forward, hands finding your shoulders gently, his eyes pouring into yours. He took your breathe away. Or maybe that was the anxiety creeping up on you.
“We’re not at your disposal. We’re on your side.” You couldn’t help but lean into his palm as it crept up your shoulder. “We have your back.”
“Better you than this dress.”
Again, he didn’t find it funny. You sighed, nodding in all seriousness. “You have my back.”
Giving up on the idea of convincing him with a look of complete and utter confidence (you were saving that for the mission) you strode past him, grabbing the furry white jacket off the end of the bench.
On your way, you gave him some of the rope to tug at.
“That easy to tell I’m nervous?” You asked, slipped the fur over your shoulders.
He followed your steps, the pink handbag looking teeny in his grasp. “You uniforms got no damn poker face.”
You chuckle at that, feeling better with him in a joking mood. It was forced, you could tell by the way his tongue was sticking out between his lips, but you didn’t call it out. Humor came to everybody in their own ways. Yours was easier to cling to.
“Yeah, well without a uniform I’m sure it’ll get better.” You accepted the bag, twirling it in your fingers.
“Better?” Kevin asked with offense. “Gonna be the best. Why else would we bring you up?” He whispered in your ear as you made your way to the garage.
You pretended to think for a second before turning around, tiptoeing backwards and tracing his collar.
“For you to oggle me.”
The sound of the door opening snapped you back to reality. This was work. You might’ve been pretending to be a hooker but you weren’t on the job yet. Definitely not with a colleague who you would never do such a thing with.
Kevin caught the door, holding it open for you. As you walked past you gave your best respectable-just-another-day-in-the-office smile. But upon his next words, it was hard to keep it up.
“Like I’d show them I’m slumming it with you.”
----
Slumming it, you were definitely not.
You had quested the expensive dress placed in your locker. Why did a hooker did a $500 piece of clothing that barely covered her ass? Because as a high class hooker, expensive taste breeds....expensive tasters.
Men. With money.
But there was only one man you wanted.
He had money, sure.
But he also had guns.
A whole warehouse and business of illegal firearms. Chicago, ever the “Heart of America” was this guy’s selling point. Everything shipped here and then shipped out.
But a man he was. A man with needs. Expensive needs on short time. Besides, he had cash to burn. Made sense he booked it to this club, paid for a girl, had his way with her, and then was onto a business deal with a couple AK-47s by dawn.
Lucky you, getting a front row seat to it all.
You really hoped all you got was a seat. You really didn’t want to have to go to bed with this guy.
Jay would hopefully make sure of that. Imploring a deal on this guy’s “night out”. Who could resist making some money while spending it on something as pretty as me?
You gulped, remembering your first date with Kevin. He paid for the meal, quoting something similar. He couldn’t believe I had said yes to going out. He insisted on paying.
Tough as nails he was in his bullet proof vest. Beneath it, a teddy bear with manners of every mother’s dream.
“Aye, mami, how you doing?”
You turned to the fourth? fifth? guy who approached you, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. He was security, like every other guy who had hit on you yet, and not your target.
They really thought protecting their bosses wasn’t their job. Trying to catch the runner ups was their priortiy.
“Looking for something a bit better than that.” You heard Ruzek say over the comms.
“She’s got standards,” You looked over your shoulder toward Kevin, posted at a table near by. He sent a quick wink before finishing his statement. “As every girl should.”
“High ones, too.” You whispered.
You knew he was rolling his eyes, more so at you chiming in than your hint at your secret boyfriend’s height, but missed it since your view became full by another presence.
“Hi to you, too.”
Bingo.
You smiled at the man you had waiting for all night. One glance at his opening jacket, shimmering from the gun strapped in on both sides, and you knew this was the one. You’d been studying his face for weeks, of course. But nothing said arms dealer like...arms.
Arms that you felt wrapping around you.
Arms that you had to embrace.
It wasn’t the guy that had you nervous. Or the situation. Hell, you felt fine pretending to be a hooker. You had your team behind you.
You also had your boyfriend watching. That’s what made you resistance to accepting the embrace, taking in the fluttery whispers, and nodding at the invitation to his booth.
It was one thing to go undercover and flirt. A whole other when doing it in front of the one person you were undercover with and wanted to flirt with.
You were a cop first, you reminded yourself as you sat down on the plush velvet sofa. You were a cop, you repeated at lips found your neck.
Where the hell was Jay? Swooping in to make this deal? Get you out of this?
“Hey man, hate to intrude here.”
You froze for the first time at the sound of that voice.
A voice you loved to hear. But not here. Not with some other guy all up on you.
The dealer let his grip loosen on you and as he turned toward the newest addition to the booth you got your first clear look at it.
Your secret boyfriend.
Currently playing an undercover role he was not assigned to. All while you were undercover as a hooker attempting to get in good with a well known criminal.
The rest of the team was having just as much of a frenzy on your ear piece. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Jay panicking, not so much as ten feet away.
Kevin must’ve beat him to it.
Something told you it wasn’t the want to be the bad guy. Rather, break up the bad guy and you.
He had your back. Too much this time.
The target felt the same way, attempting to shake him off and coming back to you for more.
Your eyes met Kevin’s - more hallow than earlier - over the shoulder of the suspect. It sent you freezing again. What were you to do? Blow cover to save a relationship just as hidden? Or keep this going and lose something you never would’ve really had?
“I like seeing you work.” You giggled, gently pushing him off of you. Your eyes glimmered with fake admiration (really anxiety bubbling up) but it did the trick. You didn’t even have to use your line about how you would work for him later.
Taking the bait, he spun and began chatting with Kevin.
Unfortunately, he liked his work and play mixing. A hand found your leg, circling your knee. Kevin’s gaze never left the dealer’s but you could tell it was killing him. The toothpick, which had been loosely hanging out his mouth earlier, was now being gritted together so loud you could hear it over the music.
What was more obvious than his clear discomfort? The hand sneaking its way up your leg. No amount of disco lights or smoke from nearby bongs could hide the manly grasp on your thigh.
Even when he lifted your skirt up you couldn’t flinch. He was so close to admitting it all. He’d skimmed the numbers and the details but if Kevin pressed a little bit harder...
“Tell me more.”
Kevin’s eyes had swiftly found the connection on your leg. It wasn’t obvious enough for concern but his tone was. It was distant. Unfocused. Everything a dealer didn’t want in a deal, no matter the environment.
“You don’t seem interested in enough.”
“I am.” You giggled.
Damn. You were too quick to jump. He gave you a disapproving look and you could see it all falling. Everything you had worked for. Gone because you were trying to protect this case more than your real relationship.
“Not as much as me, girl.” Kevin spat.
He caught both of your attention’s, scooting closer. “I want armory. I know you have it. I can swear on the things you’re gonna do to this girl tonight, you can get it to be by tomorrow.”
OK, you weren’t the only one putting work before romance.
The thought scared you for a second but you had more to worry about. Most importantly, the feverish squeeze of your thigh that bloomed from the exciting prospect of a business deal.
The guy said it himself, shaking hands with Kevin and giving all the details we needed for a case.
You were stunned how good this was going. It was all falling into place.
Kevin seemed just as shocked too, sitting there silently...which was very unlike the bold player he was pretending to be.
Of course, no story has a perfectly happy ending.
The fault in the plan, the lack of calling out the safe word to trigger the team flying in.
The word slumming (your choice) barely crossed your mind before the guy’s lips were on yours and he was hurting you with such force.
You felt trapped for what felt like eternity (with your boyfriend looking on at least) but what was really seconds before he was ripped off of you.
“Get your hands off of her!” Kevin threw the guy on the ground, the gun in his belt loaded and aimed at his head.
He looked back at you once his hands were up, breathing heavy. OK, it had messed with his head as much as yours.
A little too much, though.
Because the next thing you knew, Kevin was kicked to the ground and the dealer was grabbing his own gun.
Thankfully, you were wearing a uniform more fit for the job.
In seconds you clashed with the arms dealer, hitting down hard on his hand to realize the gun in his grasp while simultaneously grabbing the other pistol from his pocket. Just as you lifted it up to aim it, Kevin was forcing him onto the booth, hands behind his back.
“Chicago PD!” Had just left your lips as the rest of the team came by. You breathed out, no longer having to play it cool.
Kevin was also given a break when Jay came in to take him away. In two steps he was in front of you, releasing the gun from your hand and pulling you close.
“I’m never letting you out of that uniform ever again.” He muffled into your head before tipping your chin up.
You smiled, cutting the distance between your lips till they grazed his when you spoke. “You can try all you want but I know you love seeing me out of it.”
Kevin pulled your close, squashing whatever space lay between you two.
“Woah, what’s going on here?” Ruzek called out with a holler, bringing you both to reality.
Out of the corner of your eye. you saw Kevin stumble a hand flying over his head as he thought on his feet.
You took a step forward, a hand on Kevin’s chest. “Kevin is slumming it with me, a uniform.”
Laughs erupted from the team, Voight shaking his head.
Kevin saddled up beside you, pulling you close once again.
“How many times I gotta say I’m not slumming it with you?”
“A million. “You shrugged. “I did have to lower my very high standards for-”
You words went unfinished as his lips found yours again.
You didn’t mind, thought. There’d be another undercover case sooner or later. You could tell him then how it was you who lucked out.
The End
#kevin atwater#kevin atwater x reader#chicago pd#chicago pd fanfiction#chicago pd fanfic#chicago pd one shot#jay halstead#adam ruzek#hank voight#chicago pd nbc#kevin atwater one shot
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HASO, “Telling Tales.”
This story came as a suggestion from someone on the discord server, so I hope you all enjoy a break from some of the heavier stuff I have been doing lately.
The room was large and filled with noise, mostly the clinking of glasses and the clattering of voices, but on occasion the comm systems echoed with a cool female voice broadcasting announcements across the entirety of the station.
There were at least forty tables inside the room packed in close together, with a long bar at one end where men and women alike stood standing and chatting to each other as they took their drinks. Below that was the low rumble of music, and up on all four walls, large projection screens broadcasted earth sports in delayed time.
At the far end of the room a large viewing window looked out on a wide view of space and the rest of the station. The station itself was huge, stretching out for what could have been miles and miles of tightly packed corridors and branching rooms. The station itself was a mesh of Tesraki and human technology and had been built right here in orbit….. In orbit of the thing staring at them from out in the darkness.
A supermassive black hole ringed by a disk of bright light and a halo that cut across the middle.
Honestly as McCaster stepped into the room, he found the view very disconcerting, and had the sudden worry that…. Inexplicably they would start slowly drifting towards the black hole until they succumbed to a horrendous and terrifying death. Looking around though, it seemed that no one else seemed to think so, and he ushered himself inside and over to the bar hoping that a drink might calm him down.
He sidled up to the bar leading against the metal countertop and motion for the bartender with a hand.
She slid over to where he was. She was dressed casually, though the bearing of her chin told him that she was one of the soldiers working on the station and not just a civilian. He ordered something to drink, and he came back a moment later with a metal tankard. He took it surprised to find that he missed the bright amber liquid inside cool glass covered in a layer of condensation, but he supposed having breakable drinking vessels wasn’t going to do for a ship like this.
Still, the liquid inside his mug looked a sort of muddy brown rather than a pleasant amber.
He took another sip.
Still tasted fine though.
He turned to look around the bar watching as groups of people chatted to each other , drank and ate.
Not all of them worked here, some of them, like the crew of the Omen, had stopped by for supplies and to give their men and women some time to relax and have a little fun before they had to ship out again. McCaster felt this was really his only chance for a while, to meet people off the ship.
He sidled forward eyes scanning over the room and falling on a woman. She was pretty, young about his age with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail.
Couldn’t hurt right?
Unfortunately, just as he was sidling up, some other gus seemed to have the same Idea, and he sat down at her table just as two others did pausing to stare at each other across the table.
McCaster looked at the young woman, “This seat isn’t taken, is it?”
She tilted her head at him in near amusement, “I can’t control where you sit.”
“Then I suppose you don’t mind if we join you.” The other man added receiving a glower from McCaster across the table.
“You work here.” The other man asked her
“Yes.”
“Well me and the boys here are just off from The UNSC Pioneer, finest ship this side of the quadrant.”
McCaster snorted into his glass, not trying to be a dick this time, but he knew THAT was a lie.
The other man glared at him, “What, you disagree.”
“Frankly, yes. Our ship is Objectively the best and that’s not even me bragging.”
“Oh really, and what ship is this.”
McCaster smirked, “The UNSC Omen, but I bet you’ve heard of it.”
There was a chorus of disbelief up from the other men.
“Right, and I bet you are personal friends with Admiral Vir too, right.”
McCaster frowned, “Maybe not personal friends, but I did fly with him once.”
More disbelieving booing.
He crossed his arms, “Don’t believe me huh well what about this.” he reached into his pocket to snag his ID card and then pulled it out, holding it up for the entire table to see, “See Lt McCaster of the UNSC Omen. I fly a Thunderhawk, and sometimes the shuttles.” This time the men could hardly argue, his iD said as much, at least as much about which ship he worked on and what he did.
THere was a light murmuring around the table.
“That’s right, so like ninety precent of my friends are aliens.” He was exaggerating just a little bit, he didn’t really interact with the aliens on the ship all that much accept for the Celzex that fixed the weapons on his jet, and the Drev he liked to play" pool with.
But the blond was looking at him with interest, so its not like he could squander this opportunity
He nodded glancing sidelong at the girl.
“Yeah, like I said, its not like the Admiral and I take lunch together or anything, ‘but’ the ship is small enough that I do run into him on a daily basis, cool guy, a bit weird though. I actually flew with him during the burg war on the Gromm home planet.”
A chorus of disbelief.
Behind him someone chimed in, “Bullshit.”
He turned to see that another table behind them had overheard his claims. There was a pretty redhead sitting there, and so he wasn’t likely to let go of his momentum. He raised his ID badge for all to see, “Not lying.” He raised his mug to his lips and took a long satisfied sip, “Disbelieve me all you wan’t but it’s true.”
“Well don’t just sit there all smug, tell us about it then.” Someone urged, and he was more than happy to oblige.
“Well, we had just been informed of the eminent Burg attack on the Gromm capital city below. I had been being debriefed by the Commander, at the time, and went with him to the bridge as we were debriefed. The Nexus was down and Burg ships were descending in swarms. They were unprotected on the planet below, and it was clearly up to our crew to stop the attack.”
His little crowd was drawing even more eyes, and he found himself with a small crowd of skeptics sitting around him listening to his every word.
He found himself speaking faster with excitement and nerves.
“I was on the bridge and watched him survey the scene, when out of nowhere he hands the captain chair over to one of his lieutenants and orders me out with him. They had orbital defences, but he knew that they had no chance in atmosphere since they didn’ have any fighter jets to push back the invasion.” he puffed out his chest, “Admiral Vir handpicked me to accompany him as his copilot and gunner.”
Another chorus of disbelief.
He shook his head, “Disbelieve me all you want, but it’s true. He knew my talents, and he knew I could keep up with him. And I tell you I have never seen a man or woman that could fly like he does.”
He had them now leaning forward in their chairs.
The best part is all of this was true…. Mostly.
“Of course, I was ready, solid as a rock, I have been training for just such situations for the entirety of my career, and I had no hesitations about what I was going to do. The Admiral was relying on me to be his copilot and damn straight I wasn’t going to let him down.” He grinned in a self satisfactory way, “He gave me charge of all the important stuff while he was flying combat…. And he made it sure in no unclear terms that if he couldn’t handle the flying, I was going to take over for him.”
Ok that was sort of a lie, but only a little one.
“I knew as soon as we were coming in that Admiral vir had an idea brewing. We didn’t go for an angled entry but instead piloted our jet straight down. I thought that the re entry was going to rattle my teeth out of my head. But as I said before I had no doubts about the Admiral. I knew we were going in, and I had inklings of what the admiral was about to do. I never questioned him.”
Also kind of a lie, but it's not like it mattered.
“We were plunging from the sky, fire spitting off our wings, going so fast it makes your insides feel like they are on your outsides. Picture the sky fading to blue behind you, fire is benign thrown off your wings like water from a waterfall, the G force is so powerful that it compresses your chest and makes it hard to breathe,” he was standing now gesturing wildly, “We plummet from the sky, and fire our guns exploding a burg ship just before it takes out one of our other fighters. We pull up right before the ground, must have been nine ten maybe even fifteen Gs.” Okay he was exaggerating, “But I stayed conscious through the whole thing.” That was also kind of a lie.
“We broke into combat with the burg drones, and I shot down at least three of them as the Admiral piloted. He said afterwards that he had never seen someone take the shots I did and make it.” Okay yes he had been passed out for half of this, but again its not like any of them were going to know.
What harm was a little exaggeration.
“I caught one burg as we were coming out of a sharp dive, my hand felt nine times heavier than it should have, but I nailed it in the engine compartment and it exploded into a ball of fire. I was still shooting them down when the Admiral orders me to take control of the ship. Of course I wanted to ask what was going on, but there was no time, I grab the stick and manuver us into a tight barrel roll. A ship explodes behind us. I have control of the jet now complete control and I pull us up into tight pursuit of another. I avoid two missiles and in a moment of genius, I drop all of our flares, which collide with at least four burg ships exploding on impact. What I hadn’t known is that the Admiral’s hand had cramped from all that earlier flying, and if I hadn’t been there he would have died. But at that moment I had no idea and proceeded to clear enemy skies over the capital city. I dived so close to the ground that we might have crashed if I hadn’t pulled us into an inverted upwards pull for the last few seconds”
He continued to speak and as he did the fight grew even more excessive and heroic. He detailed in exquisite and colorful imagery as he single handedly flew them to safety pulling off near impossible maneuvers, crack shots and many more outlandish happenings as he and Admiral Vir valiantly switched back and forth on the controls, equals in every way.
He was just describing their great and climactic fight scene where, he had to take command of the ship once again, when he finally noticed no one was really paying attention to him. He saw their eyes, looking past him.
His voice slowed, as he looked around eyebrows furrowed.
He turned where he stood and cut off mid sentence as his eyes fell on a familiar face in the crowd.
Admiral Vir sat behind him in a chair balancing on two legs, head tilted to the side. His eyepatch covered one of his eyes, but the expression on his face was one of great and abiding amusement.
He leaned forward in his seat, “Don’t let me interrupt you lieutenant. I believe you were just getting the the part where you pull an inverted double helix back loop and I pass out drooling in the front, you just manage to pull us out of that dive, and the two burg ships are so confused by the manuver that they crash into each other and explode catching the attention of all the other stunned burg in the area and allowing the other pilots a final push in clearing the sky?”
McCaster’s mouth opened and then closed and then opened again .
Admiral Vir continued to smile as McCaster stammered and gurgled like an idiot.
“So…. what actually happened.” Someone asked
McCaster plopped shamefacedly down in his seat. Admiral Vir paused tilting his head in the other direction as if thinking. A good portion of the room had gone quiet as they shuffled closer to hear the stroy. He stood after a moment and walked over to where McCaster was sitting placing his hands on the back of the chair.
“Well The first part of the story wasn’t wrong. I had been debriefing McCaster and the other recruits on a few aspects of my ship when we got the call in that the Gromm homeworld was being attacked. I DID give up command to the ship of one of my lieutenants, and I DID as McCaster to fly with me as copilot.” he smiled and easy smile that seemed to light up the room around him.
Everyone within a twenty foot radius shifted forward in an effort to be closer to the man and the magnetic nature of his personality and charming smile.
“McCaster was top of his class in flight school, and I wanted an extra pair of eyes, that is true. We did take a vertical dive into the atmosphere instead of an angled entry. Yes there was fire spitting off the wings, and yes we did pull out of a vertical dive after saving one of the other fighter jets. All of that is pretty accurate.”
HE smiled and McCaster wilted.
“He did embellish a few things.” he rested a hand on McCaster’s shoulders, “But what is a good story without a little bit of embellishment? I’ve certainly never told a story that didn’t sound about ten times better than it actually was.” There was a small laugh from the crowd, “Point being that I would certainly fly with McCaster again, he is a brave, talented, and honorable member of my crew even if he is a colorful storyteller.”
McCaster looked up at the Admiral, still leaning on the back of his chair, and watched as the man made subtle eye contact with the blond girl just a few feet away.
McCaster blushed As Admiral Vir pushed his chair forward across the ground to sit next to her.
She was smiling in some measure of amusement, and Admiral Vir winked at him as he backed away. Either that or he just blinked, it was hard to tell with the eyepatch.
He turned back to look at the woman who was looking at him in some measure of amusement.
He rubbed the back of his head.
“He seems to be one hell of a wing man, in and out of a jet.” She commented
He stammered stupidly glancing over his shoulder to where Admiral Vir had retreated to the bar, ignoring the eyes on him, hungry expressions from both men and women as he ordered a drink and sat down.
Bless the Admiral, number one for being a good wingman for sure, and two…. For not totally calling him out on all his bullshit.
Granted everyone probably guessed, but at least he could keep some of his dignity with plausible deniability.
He was able to work himself back into a state of cool suave composure, enough to learn that the woman’s name was Emily, and that she worked as a data analyst for the big black hole thing. It had a lot to do with math and physics which he totally didn’t understand, but certainly tried to because he knew she liked it.
Across the room, Admiral vir attracted ebbing and flowing waves of people coming to listen to his own stories which were mostly modest and self deprecating depictions of what really happened. Being the first person to fall flat on his face on an alien planet, how he had scared the shit out of the bran the first time he met them, how he ended up in a Rundi prison because he was being a dumbass.
There were a few times where he too tended to embellish the stories, only to preface later by saying, but what actually happened was this.
As soon as the man stepped into the room he seemed to change the whole gravity of it like a wandering star collecting satellites.
He supposed that’s what happened when you were famous.
Thanks to him though, it turned out he got along really well with Emily, and despite knowing he was a complete moron, she seemed to like him too, and he scored her number and a surreptitious invitation to accompany her on a walk to somewhere quieter.
As he was leaving, he turned back to look at the Admiral, making surprise eye contact with him as he did.
He raised his glass minutely to McCaster before turning around and continuing his story.
He grinned as Emily took his hand,.
“So….. tell me really, how many times did you pass out when flying with him.”
He snorted, “Please, I spent more than half of it passed out, like I can’t remember shit. I don’t even remember where the sky or ground was relative to each other for most of the time. The man can fly…. Like all that stuff I was telling you, just replace my name with his and you might have yourself a believable story.”
She laughed at his expense and he laughed too
Thank you Admiral Vir.
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Don’t talk to me about timelines XD lockdown 3.0 was an unpleasant surprise but it did give me some fun fodder to play with. Missing from this were the stream of Valentines to Covid that spread around my section of NZ social media XD I was tempted to make Scott write some, but alas it didn’t fit. Obviously plenty has been fudged, it’s definitely not meant to be taken too seriously and more allows me to collect together some of the mixed emotions of getting a five hour countdown to lockdown D: That was not fun lol like far out, and we had to prepped for remote learning by 9am the next day. Scott is not allowed to complain further in his swanky apartment and no job XDD
In all seriousness, this is Scott’s story for FabFiveFeb2021, hosted by the ever lovely @gumnut-logic (Happy Birthday! still the right day in Aus, I didn’t miss it right :0 either way *hugs*** and I hope it was a nice day :DD)
Prompt used was “Are you kidding?” - it really resonated on Sunday evening ahaha (okay I will stop rambling in my defense it’s post midnight and I have feverishly pummelled this out in a couple of hours, it had been itching at me all day.... I missed that feeling :DDD)
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Scott was International Rescue through and through, but in the murky waters of the central business district, he thrived.
It was a closed meeting, stretching into the long shadowy hours of the evening. Legal advisors quibbled over clauses while Scott exchanged pleasantries with the company representatives, talking up his local ties to New Zealand’s City of Sails.
“My Dad taught me to sail, right out there in the harbour, you know.”
A casual remark but carefully designed to make himself seem approachable and down-to-earth, just another “one of the guys”. His associate had also sailed once, a national representative in his youth, although time and his new habit of lunch meetings had left those days long in the past.
Personal connections made more money than the lawyers in the background ever could, and Scott prided himself on the homegrown touch.
“Mine too,” said the jovial, middle aged man. “Although I reckon it wasn’t near as pretty a yacht as yours. I’ve read up on you as well, you know.”
Scott laughed, clapping the man on the shoulder.
“Len, I knew we’d get on. What do you say to dinner? This has been going on for far too long.”
“I know a great place that keeps a table reserved for me. Even on Valentine’s.”
“I’m flattered.” He nodded to Van Zyl briefly before addressing the small crowd.
“Ladies, gentlemen. You’ve done some good work, and it’s been a long one. We’ll leave it here for the night and reconfer in the morning.”
He acknowledged the tired smiles and leaned back and listened as the chatter evolved from the dry intricacies of patent law into cheery conversation of dinner plans and family time ahead.
He turned and looked out at the city, lights starting to turn on in the early evening light. The sun wouldn’t set for another half hour or so and he wanted to make the most of what they had left in the day.
So did the rest of the Auckland population it seemed. Cars were flooding into the area, people starting to stream into office buildings.
“So, Federal Street?”
“Len, what’s going on down there?” he asked, jabbing a finger down at the street below.
“Sorry?”
He and Len watched, dumbfounded as the office buildings lit up one by one, lights turning on and off again mere minutes later.
“Mr Tracy! Mr Van Zyl!”
“Charlotte, what is it? What’s happening?”
“Oh, Scott, I mean, Mr Tracy, sorry sir.”
“Charlotte. Take a breath,” commanded Scott, letting the authority of Thunderbird One bleed into his voice. “Tell us what’s happened.”
Charlotte shook her head, her hand creeping up over her mouth. She handed him her tablet.
“It’s a civil defence lockdown, effective midnight.”
A cold dread crept up Scott’s spine.
“Tonight?!”
Len pulled out a comm beside him and started dialling. The person on the other end picked up at the first ring, and dimly Scott could hear her calm, measured voice transmitted through the device.
“Can I help?” he asked, still staring at the stark words on the page.
“I… uh... help? Sir?”
“With the civil defence response, with the company, I don’t know!” He looked up, desperation in his eyes. “What can I do to help?”
Charlotte shook her head, pressing her lips together tightly.
“Mr Tracy, we have an isolation response in place, at your father’s request. Leave the board to organise the company, you need to get home and…”
“No.”
Charlotte’s voice pitched up a near octave.
“Sir, I must insist…”
“There are lockdown protocols on the island as well,” snapped Scott. “I can’t just go home, risk my family, my Grandma.”
She shook her head again.
“You can’t help here. They’ve done it before. It’s Level Three, people will be able to collect gear tomorrow if needed, we’re set up for remote offices and the last thing people need is you dilly-dallying in the top office.”
A loud shrieking alarm pierced through her final words and Scott flinched at the sound.
Len yelped next to him, dropping his comm with a curse.
“Damn emergency alerts, don’t they know the whole country has heard by now? Why do they just SHUT UP!” he bellowed at the still beeping comm. “It’s so unnecessary, the first time we went under, I thought we were about to evacuate for a volcanic eruption. Staying home, it’s hardly an emergency.”
Charlotte did little to hide her scorn, but Scott smothered a smile as he read through the full message.
“Okay, fine,” he said at last. “I can bunker down at the apartment for a few days.”
“Weeks, I’d be prepping for,” interrupted Len. “Hard to say of course, but they keep extending them.”
“You know why we do it,” said Charlotte, coolly.
He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I have to pretend it’s a holiday like everyone else seems to do.”
“Well, there never was any rest for the wicked, they say,” quipped Scott.
Len barked a sudden laugh.
“You’re alright, Tracy. Shame about how this ended, I’d have liked a bite with you.”
“Well, there’s always next time. Maybe we’ll find time for a shared celebration after all this.”
“My treat, Tracy, my treat,” he said with a chuckle. “Take care now.”
Scott nodded a farewell and turned back to Charlotte.
“You’re going to be fine?”
“I’ll go stay with my Mum,” she said, easily. “She doesn’t like to be in her house alone, and I can’t say I blame her. Holotech’s just not the same as being there, you know?”
“I certainly do,” said Scott, thinking of his brothers, hundreds of kilometres away. “Thank you, Charlotte, I’ll be seeing you.”
“Good luck, Scott.”
***
The downtown apartment was a mere fifteen minute walk from Tracy Tower, but with Charlotte’s words echoing in the back of his mind, the thought of potentially weeks stuck in an incredibly well furnished, yet incredibly unstocked apartment plaguing him, he opted to swing past the local supermarket. Located at the heart of the city, it was never quiet at the best of times but this was unlike anything Scott had ever seen.
The tension in the packed shop was thick as the throng that filled it. Over half the customers were already wearing masks, glaring suspiciously at those who had gone without and Scott self-consciously tugged his rain jacket higher.
Essentials, he thought wildly, just eggs and milk and bread and….
There was no bread. No flour either and the confectionary aisle was already looking sparse. He grabbed a few chocolate bars and threw them in the basket.
“Excuse me,” he said, waving down a frantic and wild-eyed shop assistant. “Do you have any bread out back?”
“No way man, haven’t you heard? Lockdown hits in like three hours, people are going mental.”
“But I don’t have any food at home, I was meant to be flying back tomorrow morning.”
The shop assistant, Ariki as his name badge proclaimed him, grimaced in sympathy.
“That’s hard luck that is. You don’t live in Auckland?”
“No, I don’t. But I won’t be able to get home now either.”
He nodded, like he’d heard it before.
“You’re thinking this is like last year, aren’t you?”
“I, uh, yes.”
“Right,” said Ariki, still nodding along with him. “Right, well it’s not quite the same so don’t stress out. Look, you can still get takeaways this time, we’ll be restocked tomorrow and all the real crazies–” he nodded towards a pair who were arguing over what looked like the last can of baked beans, “–yeah, they’ll be tucked up at home, refusing to take a step outside, it’ll be sweet as.”
Scott stared at him, then looked over at the line snaking through the frozen food aisle, between the meat and dairy and coiling up in the sad looking and so-called fresh produce.
The two chocolate bars and eggs he’s managed to grab hardly seemed worth it at all.
“I can put those back if you want.”
“Yeah,” said Scott, dazedly. “Yeah, thanks that’s be great.”
Ariki smirked a little.
“We’re reopening at seven, yeah? I’ll see you then.”
“Thanks again,” called Scott as he hurried from the shop.
The rain that had been threatening its arrival all weekend was starting to appear, and Scott hurried home, ducking his head down and shoving his hands in his pockets. He knew there’d be enough food for at least his dinner tonight and Ariki was right, he could sort the rest in the morning.
A swipe of his keycard, and he shut out the world with a muffled slam of the door and a sigh.
He shucked off his rain jacket, not bothering to hang it up, and trudged into the kitchen. It wasn’t like there’d be anyone around to complain for a while and he was starving. Lunch, the little afternoon tea nibbles they’d provided, even his last coffee felt like it had been drunken in another life.
Dinner, then finally he’d call home.
He didn’t doubt they already knew what was happening, was probably wondering why he hadn’t called, but none of them had even been swept up in the chaos of lockdown preparations.
He stared blankly in front of the fridge, the cold, bluish light illuminating him in the dark room. The sun had fully set by now, and the last vestiges of twilight had given way to the true, deep night with the onset of rainfall.
His carefully defrosting steak wasn’t on the shelf, and he looked around him in confusion, wondering if he’d accidentally left the meat out on the bench. He was hungry enough that he didn’t think he’d care and his stomach was well practiced at digesting the indigestible, bug and all.
On the kitchen counter was a neat pile: a plate, used utensils and cooking equipment all stacked together, waiting to be washed.
Scott blinked.
“Oh, hey, Scott,” called Gordon’s cheerful voice from behind him.
Scott whirled around, gaping at his younger brother, suddenly in their New Zealand apartment and not where he ought to have been – namely a thousand odd kilometres north east of the kitchen they were standing in.
“Are you kidding me?”
“What?”
“You,” Scott shouted, jabbing a finger towards Gordon. “You ate my dinner!”
“Oh, crap.”
Gordon bolted a split second before Scott charged at him, yelling wildly with all his might.
“Scott, I’m sorry, it was – shit, I mean – come on, it was past nine, I thought you’d been out, and I, oh damn, I, Scott, damn it, I’m not dressed.”
“I don’t care, you ate my food, have you seen the grocery stores? It’s absolute chaos, you traitor, you can go out and get me something, put some pants on and move.”
Gordon yelped as he dove over the couch.
“Okay, I can see there’s been some errors in judgement here,” said Gordon, panting. “I’m sorry, Scott, I really am.”
Scott glared.
“Not good enough.” He paused, eyeing Gordon as he cowered behind the sofa. “What are you even doing here?”
“Uh, excuse me?”
“Here. What are you doing in Auckland?”
“Happy birthday to me too, love you bro, congrats on surviving another year.”
“You came to Auckland for your birthday?”
“Yeah.” Gordon sat up cautiously. “Couldn’t exactly see Penny, and it’s not like there’s many other places that will let us in.”
“I thought we counted as a US territory.”
“John cleared it with someone, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Didn’t want to be stuck at home for my birthday. And look how that turned out.”
He did look extraordinarily sorry for himself.
Scott sighed, and reached out a hand.
“Go get some damn pants on,” he grumbled. “And go look for Virgil’s emergency snacks, I know he stores them everywhere.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“I mean it, don’t you dare come back unless you bring me food.”
Gordon snorted.
“Sure, wouldn’t want to provoke the wrath of a starving Scooter.”
Scott jerked his body towards Gordon, and smirked as he bolted up the stairs towards the bedrooms, before sinking down into the cushions and closing his eyes.
The comm beeped gently, a stark contrast from the blaring alert from earlier.
“Hey,” he said, opening an eye as Virgil was projected in front of him.
“Tell me you’re not–”
“Oh, I am.”
“Gordon too?”
“Yep.”
“Damn.”
“Tell me about it.”
They were both quiet for few seconds, thinking about how rapidly the world had seemed to shift around them.
“I suppose it’s only for a few days,” began Virgil, but Scott was already shaking his head.
“We gotta do the full two weeks. After that, we ought to be able to clear an exit with the harbourmaster and the coast guard, even if it’s not over, but we can’t come back earlier. The only reason we could move freely before without our helmets is because–”
“Preaching to the choir, Scott. I get it.”
“You gonna be alright without us?”
Virgil shrugged. “Rescues are down what with more people staying at home. Alan and I can handle the small change, and Kayo’s been itching for some POD practice recently. We’ll manage. Besides, you’re the one stuck with Gordon.”
“Hey!”
“Food,” growled Scott and Gordon threw a muesli bar and a tube of M&Ms at him.
“Is that mine?”
“Gordon ate my dinner and the shops were out of everything,” grumbled Scott. “Blame him.”
“It’s my birthday, I don’t deserve this.”
“Cry me a river.”
“Alright, don’t kill each other before the two weeks is up. John’s already organised a betting pool, don’t give him the satisfaction of winning again, he’ll be insufferable.”
“Oh, he’s on,” said Gordon, grinning. “Tell him I put fifty bucks on Scott tipping me out of bed or off the couch by the end of the week.”
“Got it.”
“You can’t bet against us,” said Scott, mumbling around the chocolate. “I thought you were on my side.”
“You tried to murder me over a steak.”
“The jury would have never convicted.”
“Okay, I can see you two are going to have a fun time,” said Virgil, loudly over their bickering. “See you in two weeks.”
He didn’t wait for a response. After all, two weeks was a smidge outside even his patience.
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Old Friends 5
Chapter 5!! Sorry I was busy today and didn’t get a chance to post it
Spencer Reid x Reader
Spencer helps Reader deal with nightmares.
Chapter 5:
Coffee was an everyday thing for me. But recently it has become a necessity.
The nightmares started after the case in my hometown, and I’ve barely slept since. Not for lack of trying.
I had my second cup of coffee before noon, and Morgan gave me a face. “Did the pretty girl get laid last night?”
I laughed bitterly. “Far from it I’m afraid.”
“Are you sure? Those bags under your eyes tell a different story.” Morgan continued to pester me all until I sat at my desk. He just chuckled and walked away.
JJ came by to drop a stack of files on my desk, and she gave me a look too. “Did you get laid last night?”
I dropped the pen I was holding. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“Did you?” JJ persisted.
“Sorry to disappoint you JJ, but no I didn’t.” I faked a sad face. “Just a late night, that’s all.” Or a couple weeks worth of late nights.
In the desk next to me, Spencer gave me a look but didn’t say anything.
Hotch suddenly ran out of his office and knocked on Rossi’s door. They spoke a few words, and turned to look at us. “Everyone, grab your go bag. We’ll brief on the jet. Wheels up in 10.”
---
“Holden Baxley, a friend of mine from the Boston field office called me an hour ago. He couldn’t go into details, but long story short, a suicide bomber that hasn’t been identified walked into Boston PD with a bomb strapped to his chest.”
“Oh god,” JJ breathed. “What happened then?”
Hotch closed his eyes. “The bomb went off, and half of the Boston police department blew out with it.”
The jet was silent.
“How many casualties?” Morgan asked.
“17 and counting, 23 wounded.”
“Do they think it’s a one time explosion?” I could only imagine the kind of panic this would have in the city.
“No, because a note was left at the press two minutes before the bomber even walked into the station. The note read ‘God’s wrath will be unleashed on all who disrespect the word of the Lord.’”
“Old Testament much?” Rossi looked around the jet. “The fact that the news station is across town from Boston PD makes me think there’s more than one or two unsubs.”
“Guys,” I started. “What if it’s a cult turned terrorist cell?”
“That is possible, especially if the leader is a psychopath that suffered a loss and blames Boston PD.” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows. “The leader could’ve involved others that feel the same and want revenge against law enforcement. By taking on the persona of the wrath of God, they likely aren’t going to stop until they wreak ultimate havoc on the city in the name of religion.”
“We have to find them before they strike again. YLN, Reid, go to the explosion site. Prentiss, Morgan, set up in the Boston Field Office. JJ, Rossi and I will interview families of the victims and witnesses of the explosion. Try and work quickly. Something tells me we don’t have a lot of time.” Hotch didn’t miss a beat. “The wrath of God is about to be unleashed upon Boston.”
---
The entire right side of Boston PD was blown out into the street beside it. Crowds of citizens and TV news channels flooded the streets, barely being kept back by the lines of yellow tape.
“Spencer, how are we going to respond to the press?” I asked as we pulled up in the SUV.
“No comment, for now.”
As soon as we stepped out of the SUV, reporters and citizens alike screamed and shouted questions.
“Is this the work of terrorists?” “How do we know if we’re safe?” “What do you have to say to the victim’s families?”
“No comment.” Spencer and I held up our badges and ducked under the yellow tape.
“The psycho that blew the place up was blown to smithereens as well. We didn’t find any kind of ID on him.” A Boston FBI agent approached us. “Larry Dillman, Boston FBI.” He offered his hand to Spencer and I took it before it got too awkward when Spencer didn’t shake it.
“I’m SSA Dr. YFN YLN and this is SSA Dr. Spencer Reid. Where was the approximate location of the original blast?”
Dillman walked us through what was left of the front door. “About right there, when he walked into the main hall. It was noon, so there were more people busying about. That’s partly why the body count is so high.”
“Do you know if he said anything when he walked in?” Spencer asked.
“Witnesses have said he just yelled ‘Matthew 10:34’ and boom.”
“‘Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.’” Spencer recited.
“He is literally using the Bible as his scapegoat to commit terrorism.” I looked up at Spencer. “We need to get to the station.”
---
After checking out the explosion we hurried back to the station. “Hotch!” I called out. “He’s using God as a scapegoat to terrorize Boston. The massive rage confirms that they aren’t going to stop.”
“Excuse me, Agents,” a woman stood up from her desk. “There’s someone on line 1 wanting to talk to an agent from the BAU.”
Hotch pulled Rossi up to the phone and gestured to Morgan. “Call Garcia to track the call.”
Rossi slowly picked up the phone. “Hello, this is SSA David Rossi with the FBI. To whom am I speaking?”
“Is it too pretentious to say your worst nightmare?” The voice said. Obviously using a voice modulator, classic paranoid narcissist by building himself up to be some almighty being.
“Are you responsible for the attack on Boston PD?” Rossi asked. “Michael Devons incited massive panic with a small IED.”
“Boston PD? You mean that building full of liars, cheaters, and sinners?”
“God speaks of forgiveness, but you seem to carry a lot of hatred.” Rossi looked over all of us. “Are your friends listening to this phone call as well?”
The caller was silent for a while. “You may think we see this as a game, but we don’t. God plays no games with the people he creates.” The line goes dead and I release a breath I’ve been holding since he called.
“Garcia couldn’t track it, probably using a disposable cell phone,” Morgan pointed to the crime scene photos. “These guys are smart, using voice modulators, ensuring their members die for the cause, so why would they call us for no apparent reason?”
“A game...” I mumbled. “You make think we see this as a game...”
“What is it, YLN?” Prentiss asked me.
I gasped. “What if they’re testing us? That’s why they called, to see if we could figure out their next target... Fenway Park. Are there any baseball games today?”
“Slow down, brainy lady,” Morgan said slowly. “What are you thinking?”
“He said, ‘You may think we see this as a game, but we don’t.’ What if he wasn’t talking about the bombings but the baseball games? That’s all about choosing sides and that’s something God forbids. They would see every person in that stadium as a sinner.” I looked Hotch in the eyes. “The next target is Fenway Park, it has to be.”
Hotch pointed to the head of the field office. “Are there any baseball games at Fenway Park today?”
“Yeah, Sox versus Yankees.”
“We gotta get over there,” Hotch said and we all ran out the doors. “Swat will meet us there.”
---
“We can’t evacuate the stadium, that would set the bomber off early if they see people leaving,” Hotch explained as we got on our tactical gear. “Search the stadium, most likely they’re under the stands.”
“What do we do if we find the bomber?” JJ asked.
“Try to talk them down, if you can’t... shoot straight. Let’s go.”
The nearly empty corridors of Fenway Park were eerie as I walked by myself. Every now and then I would hear noise from the fans, and the smell of cheap nachos filled the air.
As I approached concessions, I looked at all the people in line. A young couple giggling at each other, a man probably in his 70s, a pregnant woman pushing a stroller.
And an isolated young man with a giant overcoat. As soon as he caught sight of me, the guy bolted.
“FBI! Out of the way!” I yelled. “Stop right there and put your hands up!”
To my surprise, he actually stopped.
“Put your hands on your head and turn around slowly. Everyone else, clear out of here.”
The man turned around, a smug smile on his face. “Romans 1:18!”
He started to unbuckle his overcoat.
He didn’t get the chance when I shot him between the eyes.
I took a shaky breath and called into my comm. “Suspect is down. Get bomb squad in here to take care of the explosive. Fifty feet away from concessions.”
The smile was still frozen on his face, even though half of his head was blown out.
---
I was quiet on the jet ride back. He wasn’t my first kill, but my first one with the BAU, and that was sure to ensue even more sleepless nights.
Spencer sat across from me. “You were even more impressive than usual with this case. Somehow you always raise the bar.”
“No kidding,” Rossi said in passing.
“So are you going to tell me about this nightmare you’re having or...” Spencer gave me a look. “You know talking about it will help.”
“Spencer-“
“Talk to me.” I could see in his eyes he wasn’t going to give up.
“Well, it starts out with me sitting with a teenage girl. She’s a patient, and she was talking about how her teacher was... messing with her. Slowly she disappears, and the room transforms into... my mom’s bedroom. She’s standing there, yelling at me. Except the louder she yells, the more blood comes out of her mouth.” I shake my head. “I try and help her, but no sound would come out. She wraps her hand around my throat, screaming at me and spitting blood in my face. I wake up before she brings her fist down on my jaw.
Spencer was quiet for a while. “...Could it be the apartment making the nightmares worse? Sometimes a change of scenery helps distract the subconscious from the nightmares.” Spencer twirled a pen through his fingers, and his eyebrows furrowed.
“Maybe, whenever I’m lying awake in my bed I’m looking around my bedroom instead of relaxing.”
Spencer thought about something. “Well... you could stay the night at my place if you want. I could sleep on the couch and you can take the bed.” I could see his nervousness in his darting eyes and twitchy hands.
I smile. “Spencer, that’s really nice but you don’t have to-“
“No, no. I want to help.” And I could tell he was serious.
“Okay sure, but on one condition- I take the couch and you sleep in your own bed.”
Spencer huffed a laugh. “Fine.”
---
The plane landed at 10:12 at night. Not super late, but after this case, everyone wanted to go to bed.
Hotch had made an announcement on the jet that we could take a half day tomorrow and come in at noon.
“Can’t wait to sleep in until 11:45,” Morgan joked on the elevator.
Since Spencer takes the train to work everyday, he hopped in my passengers seat and immediately made a face.
“What is it?” I asked, confused.
“Your car is disgusting,” Spencer said. “I’ve seen shantytowns cleaner than this.”
“Oh, shut up Mr. Cleanliness. A couple food wrappers does not make me a slob,” I lightly punched him in the shoulder as I pulled out of the parking garage.
“It’s more than a couple,” Spencer muttered.
“I’ve starting to regret agreeing to a sleepover, pretty boy.”
---
Sitting on Spencer’s couch eating popcorn and watching Doctor Who felt so much like college that I completely forgot about the fact that I could’ve been blown up today.
We were still watching Doctor Who on the couch when my eyes fell heavy. Slowly, my head rested on Spencer’s shoulder and started to doze off.
I was barely awake when I felt Spencer press a light kiss on my forehead.
His lips felt the same as they did in college.
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BIONIC (WINTERIRON)
AU where Tony doesn't die after the snap and finds out he's much more similar to Bucky than he has ever thought.
*Pepper and Tony are not married and therefore there is no Morgan. Steve still goes back in time (even tho i could not disagree more with this decision)*
[1.9k words]
"I am inevitable"
A click sound echoed on the battlefield as Thanos snapped. Everyone stopped, ready to die, but nothing happened.
Tony fell on his knees as the gamma radiations of the stones penetrated his body. It hurt, it hurt an awful lot, but he was better than Thanos.
"And I...am...Iron Man"
As Tony snapped, Thanos and his army turned into dust.
They won and Tony didn't mind sacrificing his life for it. It started with FRIDAY turning herself off, then the suit cut the power.
Peter ran to him, followed by Pepper and Rhodey and in that moment Tony saw his life running in front of him. He lived a good life after all.
Tony closed his eyes as Peter was pulled away from him. The light from the Arc Reactor started fading away when Pepper and Rhodey took his hands.
Bucky wanted to be there, he never really apologized for killing his parents. It was like the whole word was falling on him, but he knew that his pain was nothing compared to Pepper's or Rhodey's, or even Peter's.
Rhodey placed his mask on Tony's face, unable to look at his lifeless face.
"Mr. Rhodes, sir. I found an heartbeat"
The AI spoke from War Machine's suit on the comms and everyone in the battlefield looked at Tony's corpse.
There was an heartbeat, Tony was most likely not dead then.
Dr. Strange opened a portal with his sling ring, following Rhodey, who was carrying Tony's body.
They placed him on a stretcher while Stephen was looking for Christine. He left Tony with her in a surgery room and went to change in more surgery-appropriate clothes.
Tony's body was resting in a private room, connected to various machinery that were keeping him alive for now. The surgery went well, Strange and Christine were positive that Tony would recover. It was going to be a long process, but eventually he would. They did everything in their power to save him and luckily it was more than enough. Unfortunately there was nothing they could do for Tony's right arm, the armor had fused with his flash.
His body needed to regenerate and adjust to the operation they performed. He was in a coma but he was most likely to wake up.
Tony was resting on the candid bed, he looked peaceful and that was probably the best sleep he had since they started the whole time heist thing.
Strange had returned the stones to the Avengers and Steve was the one in charge of returning them in the place they belong. He had greeted Bucky and Sam before going back in time again and never coming back. Well, he did came back, as an old man married to someone, most likely Peggy. He had nothing to lose, he complained, everything that meant something to him was gone. Bucky didn't know what to think of his decision. He was still there, Sam too and Tony was alive. But apparently they were not enough for Steve, once again Bucky was not enough.
Bucky couldn't hide that he was relieved when he was told that Tony would make it, but still couldn't force himself to visit him. He was sure Tony wouldn't want him there after all he caused to him.
But one day Bucky decided that if he were to live in that century, he might as well try to fix as much as he could his relations with what was left of the Avengers. Bucky was well aware that it was him the cause of the Civil War and the reason behind Tony and Steve's rivalry over the past years. And that was probably the reason why they could not defeat Thanos the first time.
'Butterfly effect' thought Bucky entering the elevator of the hospital 'A butterfly flaps its wings in Tokyo and in New York there is a hurricane. Steve wants to protect me and Tony ends up in a coma'
In the room with Tony there was Rhodey, reading a book while sitting on the armchair next to the bed. Bucky was standing in the corridor, behind the big window, looking at Tony and at his empty shoulder. He couldn't help but blaming himself for... everything.
When Rhodey saw him, he smiled, walking towards the door.
"You can come in, y'know" said the Colonel opening the door.
Bucky shyly walked in the room, sitting in the plastic chair in the corner.
Rhodey looked at the time. "I really have to run, Pepper is running late for a meeting at SI, you wouldn't mind staying with him 'til she arrives, would'ya?" asked and Bucky nodded.
About an hour later Pepper arrived. Bucky was sleeping on the armchair when she put a hand on his shoulder. Pepper knew what he had been thinking, she was good at reading people. "It's not your fault."
The compound was destructed during the attack and it was in Tony's plans to build it again, but 'til then the Avengers, or what was left of them, was back at the Avengers Tower.
Since the day he came back, Tony was locked in his workshop. Everything was new for him. Life seemed to be back to normal again, but in reality it wasn't. Steve was and old, wrinkly man, wedded to God-knows-who, Natasha was still dead, Banner was still in Hulk's body, Thor was somewhere with Quill and the other Guardians and Clint retired. Sometimes he felt like he was the only Avenger left, only to remember that he still had a missing arm, and without it where was a little he could do.
Tony had spent a week in his lab trying to figure out what was next, trying to create a new arm with the help of FRIDAY and Dum-E, but he had always written and done everything with his right arm and trying to create an arm, or anything actually, without his right arm was incredibly difficult.
Most of the time he spent in the lab, he was walking up and down the room with a glass of scotch in his hand at first, then the whole bottle and then with his beloved coffee.
Tony was sitting at the working table, looking at the holographic blueprints open in front of him. The only thing written on them was "Arm prototype n1".
Bucky was standing in front of the glass door of the lab, with a hand on the handle, not really sure whether he should open it or not.
"Sergeant Barnes is requesting access to the lab sir" FRIDAY spoke up. "Let him in Fri"
Bucky walked to the working table, looking in awe to the holographic blueprints. He lived in Wakanda for a while but he was still amazed by every technological evolution.
"James" Tony greeted him with a small smile, keeping a look on the blueprint. They sat there in silence for a while, until Bucky spoke up. "Tony...I'm..I'm sorry for..." Tony looked at him softly "It's ok, it wasn't you"
Tony knew that just like that he was not going to make everything fine, he knew that Bucky would still blame himself. Tony was aware that Bucky was not the Winter Soldier, and he had always been interested in Bucky, somehow.
"I...I would make it light if I were you" babbled Bucky.
Tony looked at him with a questioning look. "The arm, I would make it light"
Tony smiled. "Wanna help me out here?"
Tony and Bucky spent much more than the needed time in the lab, designing and building Tony's arm and when it was finally ready, Bucky would teach Tony every secret he had learned over the years and Tony would teach him how technology works.
They liked spending time with one another, they both felt like no one else could understand them.
They actually liked each other and for once in ages, Bucky felt like someone really cared about him. Bucky had told Tony things he never told anybody, not even Steve. He told him about HYDRA, about the war, about the 40s and how was being a gay man in the close-minded society of the time. If Tony thought that the 2000s weren't the best time for being gay, he had to rethink his position.
Together they had designed Tony's arm, another arm for Bucky in case he got tired of the Wakandian one, designed the new compound, build new suits for the two of them and a new one for Peter and Rhodey as well. Bucky now knew how to use the holographic table in Tony's lab and was not scared of FRIDAY anymore, he even helped create a new AI just for himself and Tony was incredibly proud of Bucky.
Tony really really liked Bucky, he thought he was handsome and extremely hot, but most of all, had always a great time with him. On the other hand, Bucky really liked Tony too, maybe he loved him even, but never had the balls to tell him.
Way too many times they found themself close enough to breathe each other breaths, but with an excuse or the other, that had always pulled away.
Tony couldn't take that situation anymore. He wanted Bucky to himself and himself only.
They had an appointment in the lab that day, like any other day. They were about to develop some updates to Peter's sidey suit. Bucky came in the lab without any fuss, he didn't need a code, a badge or any announcement from the AI, he just lightly kicked the door. And by lightly I mean that he almost broke the glass, but managed to stop it soon enough not to cause damage.
Tony looked at the entrance, where Bucky was standing in his gray sweatpants and black tank top. "It's a glass door Backaroo, there's no need to change it for the third time, is there?" asked Tony looking back at the blueprints of the new web shooters for Peter. Bucky walked over to his usual position next to the shorter brunette. They were working kinda peacefully when Bucky heard a metallic clicky sound. Tony had a guilty smirk on his face. Bucky looked over his left shoulder: Tony had just sticked a fridge magnet on his metal arm. It was a little thing between the two of them. A few weeks before Tony had bought more magnets than a normal person would ever need in their whole life and they just started sticking them on each other's arms. As soon as Tony realized that Bucky noticed, he started slowly walking away, but Bucky was faster and trapped Tony with his arms between his body and the table. Tony felt Bucky's breath on his neck and turned to face him. Their noses were touching. That was the occasion Tony had been waiting for. He stand in his tip toes while pressing his lips on Bucky's. Bucky's eyes widened but surprisingly enough he kissed him back, pulling him closer. The two walked towards the couch Tony had placed there for Bucky and they sat down. Bucky pulled him closer, making him sit on his lap, kissing his little innocent smile. Bucky placed both of his hands on Tony's waist, under his t-shirt. Tony leaped back for the cold touch of Bucky's vibranium hand. Bucky pulled back, taking his hand away from Tony's waist. His smile faded away and Tony understood.
"It's just cold" said caressing Bucky's cheek "You better put that hand back and start kissing me again, old man"
Bucky did what Tony told him to do with a smile.
"Yes sir"
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ReaperXFemaleReader
Doom: To Hell And Back
Chapter 6: Promises
Hello my loves. Chapter 6 is finally complete and I wanted tell you that you're all amazing and I hope you're doing well in these trying (dumpster fire) times. ❤🖖
-H
Sarge put his hands on his hips, “Go finish the autopsy, and tell me what you find. In the meantime, Reaper, Kid, pairs, cover formation. Sweep the corridors. Go. Destroyer, you and Portman stay here. Shut the airlock. Maintain a perimeter.” his eyes swept over each member of the unit. We all nodded and started to move, you passed Portman and saw that he was anything but compliant. Huffing, you follow Sam and Duke down the long hall toward the infirmary. “ -how in the fuck will we get back home.” Portman’s voice echoed behind you. You rolled your eyes and followed Duke and Sam taking note of the change in direction. “We going the long way?” You asked with a mixture of confusion and amusement. Sam grimaced, “I can’t even explain it. You’re going to have to see for yourself.” she said and Duke grumbled under his breath.
Walking through the backdoor of the infirmary you stopped in your tracks when you saw it. There, stuck in the center of the nanowall, was another creature, “what in the-” you muttered, moving closer. Sam had stuck an IV in its arm and the demon hummed and purred but otherwise didn’t move or make a sound. “I think it likes you (Y/N)” Duke said with a snort; you shot him a glare before making your way over to Sam who was pulling on another set of gloves.
“Oh I got that blood sample from genetics,” you said pulling out the syringe and holding it up. Sam smiled pointed to a terminal on the other side of the room, “I put all the data on that.” she said before turning back to the body on the table. You quickly strode over to the terminal and sat down, uncapping the syringe you carefully deposit some of the tainted blood on the scanner. As that was being analyzed you looked through the data Sam put together. The more you read the more concerned you became, ‘It came from the same source.’ you thought clicking through each data file. “Transferred by saliva and blood,” you whisper and quickly pulled up the new sample when it finished. “It’s the same.”
You got up and jogged over to Sam and Duke, “The blood samples are the same; they come from the same source but the computer doesn’t know what the source is. I think the demons are the scientists..” you said out of breath. Sam and Duke looked at each other. “Look at this,” Sam said and pointed into the open cavity of the demon corpse in front of her. You peered in and frowned, “It has human organs, and the appendix is gone.” you whisper and Sam nodded almost enthusiastically. Duke shook his head, “So, whatever that source is, it’s turning people into monsters?” he asked, sounding none-to-pleased. “Yes. That’s pretty much it,” you said with a heavy sigh.
Biting your lip you looked over at the demon stuck in the nanowall. You slowly walked over to it and you watched it carefully. Cocking your head to the side you shifted to its left side. ‘The ear is gone.’ your eyes widen, “this is Dr. Carmack!” you gasped and Sam rushed to your side. “Oh my god,” she whispered. A snarling broke the stunned silence between them all, slowly looking over you saw Goat standing at the window that separated the morgue and the rest of the infirmary. “What the fuck?” Duke yelped, stumbling back. Goat roared, making Sam scream and cover her mouth. Duke gripped his weapon and half raised it. You cautiously moved forward and stood a few feet from the glass window. Goat cocked his head to the side curiously, his nostrils flared and he placed a hand on the glass. He stared right at you and hit the window leaving smears of blood. He suddenly jabbed two fingers into his neck wound and brought the bloody fingers to the window. He wrote a single word before slamming his head into the glass repeatedly until he collapsed again. You shook and stumbled toward the morgue door with Duke on your heels. Pushing the door open you knelt next to Goat, hesitantly you placed two fingers on his wrist. Nothing.
You looked up at Duke and shook your head, and the man sighed rubbing a shaking hand down his face. He froze for a second staring a the window. Frowning, you followed his gaze. The word Goat wrote:
Promise
You sucked in a breath and shut your eyes to get rid of the stinging. You refused to cry, “I made him a promise. I guess I really need to keep it.” you said quietly getting to your feet. Duke was silent for a second and he looked at you for a long time before it seemed he came to a decision. He put his gun on the metal table next to him and slowly pulled you into a hug. You stiffened but relaxed and hugged him back, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help him.” you whispered and winced when you remembered Johns's words from before. Duke gave you a gentle squeeze and pulled back to look at you with a sad smile, “It’s not your fault baby girl. Don’t forget what Reaper told you.” he said, almost scolding. You laughed and patted Duke’s arm "You caught that, huh?" you asked and he grinned, "Oh yeah I caught all of that. You looked cozy." he chuckled. You rolled your eyes, "We're friends...I think and that's it." you said dismissing his line of thought. He huffed and gave your shoulder another squeeze before picking up his gun again. “You know, you kinda remind me of my little sister,” Duke said glancing at you. You snort and shake your head, “Is that a good thing?” you asked as you both walked back to the main room. Duke chuckled, “Depends on the day. Nah, she’s a badass lady, she’s an MD in Seattle.” he said and you grinned. “No shit, that’s where I’m from.”
Duke opened his mouth but Sam bolted over to you, “The demon on the table is Dr. Willits.” she said clutching a tablet to her chest. She turned the device around and showed you Willits medical file, “He got his appendix removed and his DNA came back positive.” you whisper and looked at the table. Duke growled annoyed and started to mumble to himself; Pinky broke his personal rant, “Lost Portman on Comm. and all I’ve got on Destroyer is a wall.”
Huffing in frustration you briskly walked over to the terminal you had been using; looking through the data you thought maybe there was a way to make a cure. There was a presence behind you. Glancing up, you see Sam standing at your shoulder reading over the data. “Do you think we could cure it?” you asked and she pursed her lips.
“I mean it could be possible, I just wish I knew how,” she said in a whisper. On the other side of the room, a door banged open and the boys flooded the room.
“Destroyer?” Duke said pain lacing his voice. “And Portman,” John said walking in with Portman over his shoulder. He gently dropped Portman on the floor and pulled the dead man’s dog tags from his neck. “What the fuck happened?” you asked voice raising a little; you watched as Duke helped Sarge gently lower Destroyer to the ground. “I got him, I got him. I got you, man.” Duke sobbed quietly. You gripped the table in front of you and started shaking, ‘Destroyer he was such a gentle giant.’ you thought sadly and broke your gaze away from the two long-time friends. You took a quick look over at Portman’s prone form and winced, ‘he was an ass, sure but he didn’t deserve that.’ you gritted your teeth trying to calm your haywire nerves.
“What the hell is this? And whose goddamn blood is on that window?” Sarge’s sudden yelling made you wince. His baritone brought your pounding headache back to the forefront of your mind. Sam and Duke were quiet, sighing you looked up into Sarge’s raging eyes. “Goat’s. He killed himself,” you said evenly, Sarge set his jaw. “What do you mean, he killed himself? He was already dead.” he hissed losing his temper. You glared about to reply, your own temper at its edge. “It’s true. It’s Goat.” Duke cut in looking at Sarge before shooting you a look, “He was changing into one of these motherfuckers and he killed himself.” he continued, standing up.
Reaper strode over to the table you were hanging onto and dropped an ID badge onto it with a clatter. “We found two more scientists at the dig. Thurman and a balding guy with glasses,” he said and moved around the table to stand next to you; you breathed deeply again and loosened your grip on the metal. “Dr. Clay.” Sam offered the name of the other scientist and the room was quiet for a few seconds, “Did you check their necks?” Sam asked, eyes darting between the two dead men. “We were conducting a firefight, not an autopsy,” John said frustrated. You sighed and Sarge stepped forward, “We came up here to find six scientists. Four are known dead and Dr. Willits is probably KIA somewhere down in that sewer. The only one missing is Dr. Carmack. Has Dr. Carmack showed up yet?”
Duke snorted, “Oh, he’s shown up all right.” he said and Sam nodded toward the body stuck in the nanowall. “Look at the left ear.” she said and continued with and gestured to the autopsied demon, “I think this other one is Steve Willits. I checked the med records, it’s a match,” she said holding up her tablet. Sarge looked angrier than before, “What are you people working on up here?” he shouted and Sam recoiled. You glared at Sarge again, feeling almost protective of the doctor. “We’re analyzing bones, artifacts. We’re not doing anything like this,” she said defensively crossing her arms over herself. “Then what the fuck is that?” Sarge snarled, pointing at Dr. Carmack. Sam shook her head, “It must be a genetic mutation, something environmental or viral. I don’t know. It may even be reversible.” she said with a slight shake in her voice. Sarge glowered “It’s irreversible.” he hissed. Sam shook her head again, “Not necessarily.” she said but Sarge pulled out his sidearm and stalked over to Dr. Carmack, he shoved the barrel under Carmacks’ chin, “Dr. Carmack’s condition is irreversible-” the shot rang out in the closed space with finality. You moved to do something but Reaper grabbed the back of your shirt and gently held you in place. Sarge looked Sam in the eye, “- because Carmack’s condition is that he’s dead.” and Sam flinched and glared at her feet.
Sarge looked over at the wide-eyed rookie, “Kid, you and Duke get back to the dig and you make sure those other dead scientists are really dead.” he said and both soldiers left without a word. John slowly let go of the back of your shirt and moved to stand a foot in front of you. You both watched as Sam got raked over the coals by Sarge; Sam glared and finally shouted back, “I’m telling the truth.”
Sarge pointed to the terminal, “What were you downloading? What were you sent to protect?” he asked through his teeth. “The research data.” Sam said exasperated, “Research into what?” Sarge asked venomously. Sam shifted and walked toward the terminal, she sat down and pulled up the contents of the disk. A video popped up on the screen, your stomach dropped and you turned pale. “Sometimes I hate it when I’m right.” you mutter. John huffed in disbelief, “You did call it.” he muttered as the video finished. Sam sat there dumbfounded, “What in the hell did we just see?” Sarge asked, anger still present in his voice.
“Genesis, chapter 1.” John muttered and Sam’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “It doesn’t make any sense,” she whispered deflated. John’s eyes softened slightly, “You trusted them. They lied to you. They used you, Sam.” he said softly. Sam turned in her seat to face her brother, “If he perfected xenogenesis…” she whispered trailing off. John got frustrated and snapped, “ Christ, don’t you get it? It’s this place. It’s hell. It always was. This shit ends here.” he moved to grab the disks but stopped when Sarge moved forward, “What are you doing?” he asked tensely. Both John and you looked at Sarge like he was insane, “We need to destroy these disks.” John said firmly.
“That’s UAC property,” Sam said numbly and you shook your head. “Fuck the UAC, we should destroy the disks. If we take this data back-” You said voice rising ever so slightly, Sarge scowled at you “We take the data back.” he said cutting you off. “Sarge, do you not see what’s going on here?” John asked incredulously. Scowl still in place Sarge turned his head to look at Reaper, “I didn’t see shit. And I ain’t paid to see shit.I have my orders, and so do you.” he growled and snapped his head towards Sam. “Is this everything?” he snapped. Sam flinched and stuttered. “I-I have three more to download.”
“Then do it,” Sarge said, voice icy. The Kid called for Sarge over Comm. and you looked over at John worriedly. He looked back at you with a mirrored expression, “This is insane.” you said lowly to him and he sighed and looked over at Sam who was working quietly. “I don’t know what we can do,” he whispered back to you. “Move out. One of the dead scientists is missing.” Sarge ordered making you break eye contact with John. “You just wanna leave her here alone?” John asked angrily, and Sarge waved it off like it wasn’t a problem. “She’s got a job to do,” was all he said before heading to the door. Sam, who had looked up from her work a while ago, had a look of fear flash across her face. Reaper pulled a small device from his vest pocket and pressed it into his sister's hands, “Look, this Portman’s comm. You call if you need help, okay?” he said and she nodded.
“Will you be alright?” you asked, concern coloring your voice; Sam nodded and gave you a small smile. “I’ll be okay. Please be careful, both of you. Take care of each other.” she said, looking between you and John. You both nodded, “see you soon,” you called over your shoulder before disappearing through the door.
“This is gonna go to shit,” you muttered to Reaper as you both jogged down the corridor. ‘Oh, I hope you’re wrong this time,”
“No promises!”
@thottiewithashotgun
@dw-writes
@lauraaan182
@marvelouslytrekking
@writerdee1701
#doom 2005#john grimm x reader#reaper x reader#ReaperXFemaleReader#karl urban#reader insert#slow burn#john grimm
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:,) a humble ask for hc’s for Din, Ezra, and Javier admitting they love you in an angsty situation :,)
This took me hours but it came together so well! Thank you for the wonderful prompt!
Din:
he has mixed feelings about taking you along on bounties. you’re the rare combination of a talented bounty hunter and a person who’s never tried to cheat him.
but on the other hand… the possibility of coming back from a hunt without you makes something deep in his chest ache.
you make him laugh. you like him, but you’ve never pushed him to take off his helmet. you make the Razor Crest and the flight time between planets seem more alive.
he’s kissed you. more than once. but only as a Mandalorian, the cold beskar of his helmet against your forehead. he doesn’t know if you understand what that means.
the two of you are on a nameless dump of a moon where the grey salt flats are studded with wreckage from a space battle, tracking a pirate with a hefty bounty on his head, when it happens.
you get a single glimpse of the pirate before there’s a hail of blaster bolts headed in your direction. you both take cover, and the Mando uses terse field signs to lay out his plan: you go right and flush him out. i’ll go left and take him down.
the plan does not come together nicely. in fact, the plan does not come together at all.
the mark is harder to scare than you expected, and by the time you’re in range to force him out from behind his cover, you’re close enough that he can grab you.
it’s a little embarrassing, honestly. you haven’t been in a choke-hold with a blaster to your head since you were sixteen and stupid.
“Let her go,” the Mando says. despite the anger in his tone, his voice is even and his aim doesn’t waver. you’ve admired that rifle since the first time you saw it: the faint iridescence of its prongs, the elegant curve of its stock, the meticulous modifications to its forestock. you’ve never had it pointed at you before.
“Of course, my friend,” the pirate says. “Because I have survived this long by being incredibly foolish. No, she is coming with me. If you ask nicely, I may even leave her in one piece once I reach my ship. If you try to interfere…”
he makes a nonchalant who knows? gesture, and for a second the barrel of his blaster isn’t pressed against your head.
you haven’t been sixteen and stupid for a long time. the heel of your boot comes down on his instep with as much force as you can muster, and when his hold weakens, you drive your elbow back into his nose.
the pirate crumples into a groaning heap at your feet. the Mando lowers his rifle. you make a show of dusting off your hands, because no one has ever accused you of lacking a sense of drama.
it looks like the Mando wants to say something - you can see it in his posture - but he doesn’t, so you fill the silence. “Don’t tell me you were worried, Mando,” you tease. “Like you’d miss me bouncing around the Crest’s cargo hold making a mess every time we go somewhere. You just love having me around.”
you’re not expecting him to reply, so you take the binders off your belt and bend to cuff the pirate. when you straighten, the Mando is right next to you.
“Yes,” he says. “I was worried. Yes, I would miss you. Yes. I love you.”
for once, you’re speechless, so you just watch your smile grow in the reflection of his visor. then you lean just a little bit forward, closing the gap and pressing your forehead to his.
(and then the pirate at your feet snickers, and you kick him in the ribs.)
Ezra:
taking this job has been one of your worst decisions to date. and of course, you did it because Ezra talked you into it.
“An absolutely unprecedented adventure, little bird!” he’d said. “A moon still molten from the fires of creation, spitting up gems like a baby with a colic? The harvest will be unparalleled; with the right gear, we will stroll through the lava fields collecting Niobe’s roses as easily as if we were berry-picking.”
it is, of course, not that easy.
calling the Red Moon molten is not an affectation; its broken crust oozes lava like a slow-clotting cut. you’re here for rhodoniobium, beautiful silver blooms that appear on the surface of the lava flows. it isn’t difficult to use the nets and poles to retrieve Niobe’s roses. what’s hard is staying alive while you do it. miners die in ugly ways every single day, and they’re rarely mourned.
liquid water is a thing of fantasy down here, for the most part, and everyone is forced to return to the base camp at Kīpuka when they run out. that’s where the two or you are headed when you get separated.
you’ve been examining plutonic rock formations since you arrived, looking for evidence of pegmatite mineral inclusions: rubies, sapphires, emeralds and other beryl gems. sure, they don’t sell for as much as Niobe’s roses, but you’ve never been able to resist sparklies.
Ezra usually indulges you, but in this case, he’s been looking forward to a bath for two weeks. so when you stop to chip a sample from a smooth dome of granite, he keeps walking. you don’t think anything of it, figuring you’ll catch up to him, until a sharp “Shit!” comes through over the comm.
“Are you all right?” you ask, quickly starting to pack up your tools.
“Hardly the finest way to introduce oneself, taking pot-shots at innocent passersby,” Ezra says, his voice fuzzy with distance. “If you have had your entertainment, I would be much gratified to be permitted to pass.”
you abandon your tools and set out after him at a run as a much younger man says “This is our gorge, and if you want to pass through to Kīpuka, then you’re going to have to pay our toll.”
“I am always enthusiastic to participate in the civil preservation of infrastructure, have no doubt,” Ezra assures the men who you suspect are holding him under rails. “My partner is a ways behind, and she is carrying our meager pickings. You’ll allow me to contact her and request her presence?”
a grunt of agreement, and a short pause, before Ezra’s voice comes through more clearly on your private channel. “May I assume you’ve been listening, little bird?”
“Yeah,” you pant. your lungs are starting to burn, and you’d be tempted to throw off your heavy insulating gear if you didn’t know that the average air temperature around here is high enough to bake bread. “How many?”
“Four. Alas, more than I feel confident dispatching alone.”
“Almost there. I’ll come in over the ridge. Be ready to draw.”
“I always am.” there’s a pause, and at first you think he’s finished. then your comm crackles again. “If this goes wrong, little bird-”
“Don’t,” you say, because it feels like bad luck.
“I love you. Most ardently. If I die here, then I die happy to have known you.”
the only thing you can say is “Damn it, Ezra.” because you can’t wipe the tears from your eyes, and that’s going to make shooting these bastards just that little bit more difficult. he laughs softly, and clicks back to the public channel.
Ezra chats away with the bandits, distracting them with that awful anecdote about the channelrats while you close the last small distance to the ridge above the gorge. you crawl to the edge, thrower rifle cradled in your arms, and take a sniper’s position.
“I’m almost there,” you say over the public channel. “Is everything all right?”
“Of course, little bird.” You can’t see Ezra’s smile, but you can hear it in his voice. He’s ready.
it goes very quickly, as most gunfights do: you push a stone over the edge to start a small rockslide, the bandits turn toward the noise, and you shoot the two men lounging in the shade while Ezra shoots the two standing in front of him.
“Ezra? You know what?” you ask once the bodies have hit the ground.
“What?”
“In spite of the fact that you have damned awful timing, I love you, too.”
Javi:
as Javier yells at you, you wonder idly if Murphy can hear you upstairs. “You could’ve been killed!”
“Just because you couldn’t have made it out of there, doesn’t mean I couldn’t!”
“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he hisses, stepping closer.
you shove him back. “It mean you strut around Colombia flashing your badge and shooting sicarios like that’s what you get paid for! You’ve got Kiki Camarena keeping you safe. You know what I’ve got? A fucking press pass! If my cover’s blown, I get auctioned to the highest bidder and tortured to death!”
“Which is exactly why you should know better than to go sniffing around Escobar’s planes!”
“I don’t tell you how to do your goddamned job, Javi! Don’t you try and tell me how to do mine!”
Javi snarls and digs the packet of cigarettes out of his breast pocket, tossing it carelessly on the couch once he extracts one.
“You’re upset because I could’ve died?” you ask derisively as he lights his cigarette. “Let me tell you something. You, breaking in guns drawn because you think you’re rescuing me, are a lot more likely to get me killed than any mistake I could make.”
“Shut up,” he growls. he won’t look at you as you move closer.
“What is your problem? If this is still about those papers on the guerrillas-”
he shakes his head and turns away. you fucking hate it when he does this, pulling away from an argument rather than just fighting it through to the end.
“Then what?” you demand. if he’s going to disengage, then maybe you need to hit the right buttons to make him change his mind. “Don’t tell me you’re pissed off because you’ve finally realized I really am a better operator than you-”
“Because I love you!”
Javi’s outburst startles you, and you take a step back without thinking about it. he sighs, the tense lines of his shoulders going lax, and turns to face you again.
“Because I love you,” he says more softly. “Because I don’t know what to do without you any more, and that scares me more than any narco son of a bitch. Because I can’t even imagine what I would do if you were killed. Just the thought makes me feel sick.”
“Javi…” you whisper.
he shakes his head to stop you. “You want to know why, every time you come here, I ask you how your articles are doing? It’s because I have this-” he huffs out a helpless laugh. “- idiotic, ridiculous fantasy that one day, you’ll do so well that you’ll leave the agency and actually be a journalist for a living. And you’ll come and live with me, and I won’t have to wonder if you’re dead every time you go longer than a week between calling me.”
“Javi,” you say again. when you take the cigarette from his loose grasp to put it down in the ashtray, he raises his hand to rub his knuckles against his eyes. “You’re right. Part of your fantasy is ridiculous.”
“Only part, huh?” he doesn’t quite manage to make his sarcastic smile look sincere.
“Yeah. The part where you don’t seem to realize that all you have to do is ask.” you cup the strong angle of his jaw and lean in, almost nose to nose. “All you have to do is ask.”
“Why would you want to stay with me?” he asks. “I’m an asshole. I work too much. I’d just make you sick of me.”
“Because I love you,” you say, and kiss him.
#the mandalorian fanfic#the mandalorian#narcos fanfic#javier pena#ezra#din djarin#rzrcrst#jehaatific
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Sky Spies and Splitting Up Batchmates
IDW, pre-war (to be specific very slightly pre-Megatron: Origin); Cosmos, OCs, Sentinel Prime, Prowl, the tiniest of tiny cameos for Soundwave and Ratbat. Warnings for canon-typical racism/homophobia.
This is based on a whole heap of headcanons, plus one or two panels from MTMTE.
Iacon felt…small.
Maybe it was the way the crowds parted to make way for them, or maybe it was the way that they had to walk in single file or risk one of them accidentally stepping into the street.
Cosmos missed Staniz. Staniz was made for mechs like them.
He supposed it was better than being separated from his batchmates during their constant, multi-year surveying missions studying the infinitesimal ebb and flow of energon. Their contract with Senator Shockwave wasn’t scheduled to expire for another three cycles, but today the Prime of all people wanted to speak to them about something equal parts vitally important and incredibly vague.
::He’s probably gonna send us to the Institute.::
As usual, Starburst’s mood was equal parts pessimistic and anxious.
“The Prime has better things to do than send three Lunabots to the Institute.” Cosmos spoke aloud, though he hoped it was quiet enough to not be overheard. Abruptly feeling self-conscious, he adjusted the temporary badge the Senatorial messenger had affixed to his armor, declaring him cleared to wander around inner Iacon for the day.
::Then he’s gonna reformat us! Turn us into his new sky-spies, or dump fissal radiation into our spark chamber in the hopes of creating outliers!::
Cosmos glared at his batchmate. As usual, Starburst was paying more attention to whatever conspiracy theories he’d pulled up on his HUD than anything else—more than once, Cosmos and Paradox had had to pull the mech out of incoming traffic.
“Shut up, ‘burst.” Paradox had been quiet until now, silently soaking up the sights of inner Iacon, but now the Grand Imperium loomed before them. It was no secret that the average Lunabot stood (literally) head and shoulders above most mechs, leaving the average, non-form friendly building more or less inaccessible to them, but the Senate’s Iacon headquarters were…something else.
They stepped inside.
A mech with the most spectacular, articulated rotors Cosmos had ever seen was arguing with the receptionist. He felt Paradox stiffen beside him, taking in the sight of said rotors as they shifted and swayed in time to his animated, angry gestures in the receptionist’s direction.
Not for the first time, Cosmos lamented knowing so much about the things that revved his batchmates’ engines.
The mech who had been standing beside rotor-mech whipped around, staring at Paradox as though he had broadcasted his taste for fully articulated rotors and flight frames on a loudspeaker.
Paradox, at least, had the sense to look a little embarrassed.
Starburst had frozen in the doorway, effectively blocking anyone larger than a memory stick from entering. Cosmos grabbed Starburst and yanked him forward. Starburst stumbled, tripping over his own feet and nearly falling head-first into rotor-mech’s stupid, articulated rotors.
Abruptly, Rotor-mech turned to face them. With a sinking feeling of utter dread that was definitely proportional to the situation, Cosmos took in the Senatorial crest emblazoned on rotor-mech’s chassis.
Apparently having noticed the same thing, Paradox squeaked.
Cosmos wondered if it would be bad form to just transform and break through the ceiling en route to outer space, never to be seen on Cybertron again. Maybe they could go find Luna-1! Surely such a feat would be enough to erase the—
“You’re here!”
The receptionist, whose public ID tag labeled him as Drawback, jumped to his feet and gently maneuvered past rotor-Senator-mech and grasped Paradox’s arm in a clear, albeit relieved greeting.
“As I was saying, Senator, our most wise Prime has a meeting with these three wonderful—and prompt!—Lunabots in just a few moments. As I said, I am more than happy to put you down for a meeting slot sometime…late next week?”
Drawback tugged insistently on Paradox’s arm, practically dragging the Lunabot towards the lift. Unsure whether they were meant to follow, but unwilling to remain, Cosmos and Starburst followed suit.
Rotor-Senator gawked. Even from this distance, Cosmos could feel the anger bubbling in the mech’s field.
“Thank you,” Drawback muttered, once he had herded them out of audio-receptor range, towards an elevator that would accommodate them—one of them at a time, at least. Paradox and Starburst clamored to be the first ones in, and Cosmos lamented the fact that he was going to be stuck in the lobby for even a minute longer than the others. “Sometimes I swear Sentinel sets up these appointments just to get out of meetings he doesn’t want to attend. And Ratbat knows me from Kaon, so he thinks I’ll just rearrange the Prime’s schedule! Just for him!”
Cosmos had no real answer to that. He watched Paradox make his escape via elevator, peeking around the closing doors once more in hopes of getting another look at rotor-Senator. Starburst fidgeted in place and Cosmos could practically see the forums his batchmate had pulled up on his HUD.
“So, uh,” Cosmos said, hoping to break the awkward silence. “Worked here long?”
Drawback shook his head. “I’m usually posted in Kaon, at the um, local Senate building over there. Just here till the replacement passes all the background checks, then I’ll get to go home.” He lowered his voice. “It’s awful here.”
Starburst nodded enthusiastically, and apparently chose that moment to break his self-imposed silence.
“What’s this about?” Starburst asked. “I know that Lunabots consume more energon than the average mech but we wouldn’t be able to enter planetary orbit without all that fuel and! And Senator Shockwave himself declared us free to receive all the fuel we need, at least until our contract with him is up, and I—I really don’t want to get reformatted. Or brainwashed. I really don’t.”
Cosmos had to resist the urge to hide his face in his hands, but Drawback nodded. Considering the commotion rotor-Senator had been making out there, Starburst’s rant probably wasn’t the most outlandish outburst he’d ever been subjected to.
“Well, I know for a fact you’re not here to be brainwashed!” Drawback’s smile was as sincere as it was strained.
The elevator door slid open and Starburst practically jumped inside, leaving Cosmos alone with Drawback.
“You’re a Lunabot, right?” Drawback asked. “You like it?”
“Y-yes,” Cosmos said, mostly because he wasn’t sure if it was a trick question designed to weed out anyone who might be even the slightest bit anti-Functionist. For all he knew, the Senate was staffed with telepaths around every corner, taking notes on which visitors needed to be sent to—
Primus, now he was starting to think like Starburst.
“I definitely don’t get to see Iacon too often.”
Drawback nodded. “Well, if you get the chance—it’s not everyone’s taste, but there’s a pretty good Tarnian place in one of the lower districts. It’s size-friendly, too—lots of mechs visiting from Kaon and Tarn drop in, so you know it’s authentic.” Drawback coughed, awkwardly. “I, uh, run a regional cuisine blog in my free time.”
The elevator door chose that moment to open, sparing Cosmos from any more awkward small talk. Cosmos stepped in and Drawback waved goodbye, cringing as the rotor-Senator came into view, striding towards the hapless receptionist.
Sentinel Prime’s offices were on the top floor. Cosmos took a moment to wonder at the inefficiency of it all—Drawback certainly wasn’t flight-frame, and he doubted rotor-Senator transformed unless it was to show off. Did they all really use these elevators to navigate the building?
Maybe Sentinel wanted to hire them as shuttles.
Cosmos shuddered at the thought. He didn’t know how shuttlemechs could stand the feeling of someone moving around inside him, much less directing him.
The doors slid open, and Cosmos was relieved to see Paradox and Starburst waiting for him. Triplechangers stood guard at the many doors of the very intimidating hallway that stretched out before them, each nearly as tall as the average Lunabot. Cosmos wondered if they were allowed to skip the elevators and just fly up to whatever floor they needed to get to.
Out of politeness, Cosmos nodded a greeting to the nearest guardsmech and got no response. Starburst had shifted back to internal comms and was sending them both a massive data-dump from the conspiracy forums.
As he usually did, Cosmos fell into step just behind Paradox, letting his batchmate take the lead. It wasn’t something that they had ever talked about, but where Paradox led, he and Starburst were usually content to follow. Paradox’s quick thinking had gotten them out of trouble more than once, and his cool demeanor had netted them the contract to work with Senator Shockwave. Cosmos would just have to make sure neither he or Starburst said anything that warranted getting their sparks extracted, and they would be good.
His audio receptors picked up the faintest sounds of an ongoing argument at the end of the hall. None of the triplechangers seemed particularly bothered by the noise.
“Nice place,” Cosmos muttered to himself. Paradox elbowed him. “What? It’s true!” The carpet under their pedes probably cost more than the three of them would make in a hundred cycles.
The door at the far end of the hall was more than tall—and wide—enough to accommodate the three of them. They stepped inside and Starburst raised a hand, awkwardly waving at the receptionist in the far corner, who didn’t look nearly as welcoming as Drawback had.
“Lunabots.” This receptionist didn’t have a public ID tag. “Right. Sentinel’s been waiting for you.”
Cosmos glanced at his chrono—they were nearly five minutes early, and the implication that they were running late irked him. Judging by the way his armor puffed up, Paradox clearly felt the same.
The receptionist gave Paradox a flat, unimpressed stare. Paradox met the stare with a patient half-glare Cosmos hoped he’d be able to emulate one day.
“Through the far door, and please—try to make it quick. Meetings with astro class mechs—much less Lunabots—aren’t exactly what the Matrix intended when it chose Sentinel Prime as its vessel.
Giving up any semblance of professional distance, Paradox grabbed Cosmos’ arm with one hand and Starburst’s with the other before either of them could start a fight or demand to know what the mech knew about the Matrix.
Without looking at them again, the receptionist waved them through. The door opened, and Cosmos came face to face with Sentinel Prime, who’d been in the process of storming out of his own office.
“Lunabots!” Sentinel composed himself quickly, spreading his hands out in that way Cosmos had noticed a lot of mechs tended to do when they were trying to show that they had nothing to hide.
Cosmos didn’t trust him, but earning the trust of a Lunabot wasn’t exactly a perquisite for the Primacy, was it?
“There are…three of you. Did we know three of them were coming?” The question was directed at the mech Sentinel Prime had been arguing with—an Enforcer-turned-aide, who’d done a worse job of pretending he hadn’t just been yelling at a Prime than he probably thought.
“Lunabots are created in triads.” The Enforcer-turned-aide was looking at a datapad. “Starburst, Paradox, and Cosmo. Here at Senator Shockwave’s personal recommendation.”
“Cosmos,” Cosmos said automatically.
Paradox groaned.
“Ah.” An unpleasantly familiar expression crossed Sentinel’s faceplates. “Well, we only need one of you for now. So.”
Paradox stiffened. “Sir—um, your highness, sir—“
Sentinel waved a hand. “Just Sentinel.”
“Sentinel, sir—Lunabots—“
“Lunabots are sparked in triads,” Sentinel rolled his optics theatrically and turned back to face his aide. “I heard you the first time. It’s not like they’re sparkmates, are they?”
Sentinel glared at Paradox.
“No sir.”
“Good.” Sentinel turned back to Paradox. “Now. Like I said—well, I didn’t say: to make it short, we’re running short on mechs capable of orbital surveillance, and the Senate has authorized one—one—Lunabot to undergo a deep reformat and a class change to add to our ranks. Whichever one of you is chosen to be reformatted—“
“Reformatted?”
Despairingly, Cosmos realized neither he nor Paradox had moved to shut up their batchmate. Sentinel didn’t need to ask their permission, did he? This was just a formality—or maybe they were here to get evaluated, in which case…
Primus, they were going to choose Paradox.
Oblivious to Cosmos’ internal crisis, Sentinel was trying—and failing—to allay Starburst’s fear.
“Into a smaller, more compact, more fuel efficient body. You’ll get twice whatever Shockwave’s been paying you and so many upgrades you won’t even have time to think about your…friends. Brothers? And you’ll be doing your duty as a Cybertronian citizen, helping your Prime rid the planet of enemies of the state.”
“Sir, Decepticons are dissenters, not—“
“I don’t want to get reformatted,” Starburst snapped. Sentinel looked up, surprised. “None of us do. We’re Lunabots and we like being Lunabots.”
Cosmos seized the chance to nod. Vigorously.
Sentinel frowned.
“Please wait outside.”
He was half-expecting the triplechangers to accost them the instant the door closed, but the mechs remained where they stood, impassible and unmovable. The receptionist looked up and rolled his optics, then ignored them completely.
“They’re gonna split us up,” Starburst said, breathless. “The Prime and his little assistant—oh Primus they’re gonna turn us into minibots and make us hack transmissions and—“
“Shut up.” Paradox demanded, then turned to Cosmos. “What’s your take on this?”
“I—um. Yeah.” Cosmos looked away. “I think they’re gonna choose you.”
“Not what I was looking for.” Paradox narrowed his optics. “Maybe we can persuade Sentinel to take all three of us—barring that, maybe we can redirect him to another cohort of Lunabots.”
“I’ve never liked Quasar and his batchmates. They should pick one of them to be sky-spies.”
“Quasar is an idiot. Sentinel won’t go for it.”
“I’ll do it,” Cosmos said, before he realized the words had formed in his processor, much less left his voicebox. “Um. I mean—“
“No!” Starburst grossed his arms. “I mean, better you than me, but no.”
“If—if—Sentinel’s set on recruiting a Lunabot and can’t be persuaded otherwise,” Cosmos said, trying and failing to figure out where he could backtrack and retract his words. “I’ll do it.”
“But you hate surveillance,” Starburst said. “You—oh! You’re hoping that being a spy will be less boring than monitoring Cybertron’s energon levels?”
“I hadn’t considered that,” Cosmos admitted. “I’m still hoping Sentinel will let all of us get reformatted.”
Before Starburst could reiterate that he really didn’t want to get turned into a spy, the door to Sentinel’s office opened once again.
Feeling like he was walking to his own execution, Cosmos followed his batchmates. They trooped back into the Prime’s office in a single file, awkwardly standing as Sentinel looked them up and down.
“As I was saying,” Sentinel said. “For the time being, we still only need one of you. But Prowl here—“ Sentinel gestured at the Enforcer. “Has persuaded me to promise you that once the Decepticon threat has been eradicated from the planet, you will have the option to get your old frame back and return to your…’batch’. No hard feelings. And if, by chance, I am not in a position to approve the change, Prowl has been authorized to act in my place. Is that acceptable?”
Belatedly, Cosmos realized that Paradox and Starburst had taken a measured step back. He had volunteered, hadn’t he.
Primus, he was an idiot.
Before Cosmos could retract his offer, Sentinel held out his hand. Dumbly, Cosmos shook it.
“Welcome to Kaon Security Services, Lunabot,” Sentinel said. “We’re glad to have you here.”
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chapter 7 - partners in crime
series masterlist
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your date with tom (well, it wasn’t really a date. just two friends who love each other more than friends, hanging out while acting like a couple. so, not a date, right?) was going...surprisingly nice. it’s been great spending time with tom, but actually not talking about work was a nice change. different. but, a good different.
laughter and chatter was all you could hear, as the smell of freshly made coffee filled your nostrils. tom took you to a cute and small shop on a random street in new york, which was filled with different collectibles, probably passed down for generations. in the shop, was a cafe, so of course you spent a while there.
“honestly, the amount of coffee i’m drinking this month, is crazy.” you laughed, while tom nodded, agreeing with you.
“well, at least our energy will be good.” tom smiled, but you noticed how for a slight second in his eyes, he zoned out.
“tom,” you spoke softly, bringing him out of his thoughts, “what’s on your mind?”
tom sighed, “do you remember when i told you about, my d-dad?”
you nodded, waiting for him to continue. when tom was younger, his dad worked for the fbi, which is quite ironic. he worked in the same department, that we work in now. he was a special agent, with carson. but, one time, he was undercover, and while his team where listening in over comms, it cut off. they couldn’t hear him. they couldn’t track him. he just...went. they didn’t find anything, to prove he was dead. they found, nothing. tom was heartbroken. even at a young age. so, he followed his dad’s footsteps, and became an agent himself.
“well, today is the day he, you know, went missing.” he gulped, as sorrow swallowed him.
“oh my god, tom. i-i didn’t realise, i’m sorry.”
“no. it’s okay, i never told you to exact date. i wanted to go out though, to try and take my mind off it, you know. but, i just can’t help it you know. when he went missing, we looked for months and found nothing. people say he’s dead, but i just have a feeling that he isn’t.”
you placed your hand on top of his, “tom, if john was here i don’t think he would want you beating yourself up on what you could of done to find him, okay? he would want you to live your life.”
“y/n,” tom whispered, “i have a feeling that he’s in new york.”
your eyes went wide, “that’s just a feeling tom. you don’t know if it’s true.”
“i know, but i feel like i’m being watched all the time, and i can’t help but think, could it be him?”
you were about to responded, but a waiter came over to pour us both more coffee, before walking away after we said thank you.
“tom, listen to me. after the case, if it will help ease your mind, we can look for him. see if he’s in new york. you’ve probably done it before, but maybe i could help? i’m sorry if i’m overstepping-“
“no, i-i would like you to help. it’ll be good for a new set of eyes.”
you smiled, looking away from tom’s adoring gaze. you just wanted these weeks to be over, so you can officially be with him.
“shall we go shopping now?” tom asked, making you laugh.
“you hate shopping.”
“for you darling, i’ll love it.” tom grinned, making you swoon. walking around the small, yet homely, shop you were currently in, you admired the variety of objects. everything you could think off, was there. it was almost as you were thrifting, but not for clothes.
you picked up a necklace, studying the variety of sparkly gems in the rose gold chain. you noticed that there was a little charm, in a shape of a heart with your initial on it. you thought it was a coincidence, put saw a stack of them, with different letters on.
“found anything?” tom mumbled, walking up beside you.
you showed him the necklace, which made him smile slightly. he took it off you,
un-clipping the chain before looking at you. he moved your hair gently out of the way, as you turned around with your back against his chest. you hissed slightly, as the cold metal met your skin, but soon felt warmth overcome you, once you felt tom’s fingers graze the back of your neck, as he was tying the necklace once again. you blushed, turning back around, to come face to face with tom.
“it suits you really well.” tom grinned, looking down at your lips for a second before bringing his gaze up to your eyes, again.
“he’s not wrong there,” a man said (obviously the shop owner) while you laughed saying thank you, “are you thinking of buying it?”
you shook your head, “no.”
“nonsense, i’ll get it for you.” tom spoke, already handing the man money.
“tom. it’s fine.”
“no. i want to buy it for you, because you deserve it, okay?”
giggling you replied with an ‘okay.’
“you two make a lovely couple.” the man said, while you and tom looked at each other smiling.
“we do, don’t we?” tom whispered, so only you could hear. you glanced at him, admiring his features, while he did the same. a slight cough, from the man, interrupted you both, as you looked away quickly.
“have a lovely day.” the man spoke, handing tom the necklace. you both said your thanks, before leaving.
“wait, let me put this on you.” tom spoke, once you got out of the shop. once again, you moved your hair while tom clipped the necklace into place. your breath hitched, once you felt tom’s lips against your bare shoulder, before you turned around with a wide smile.
“i can’t wait for this to be over, you know?” tom spoke, as you both walked down the busy streets of new york. people around you, where walking quickly, speaking loudly on the phone or to the person next to them. but, you and tom weren’t in any rush. so, just casually strolling down the street, was just fine for you both.
you nodded, looking at your feet, “me too. but, do you not think we’ve jumped too far into the deep end, too quickly?”
tom frowned slightly, glancing at you, before looking at his feet as well, “well, us arguing all the time, after we broke up just kind of proved how much we missed each other. you have to admit, even when not together, there was always an unspoken feeling. a spark.”
“i guess your right. i just,” you stopped abruptly, “i don’t want our second time, to end up as our first time.”
tom stopped in front of you, “i totally get that, y/n-“
“no,” you interrupted, “you mean too much to me. i don’t want it to be ruined. what we have, is so special. i don’t want it to fall apart.”
“it won’t fall apart. because, this time, you know for definite how i will never cheat on you.”
“what about actually starting a life together? what if, in another 5 years time, we aren’t living fully?”
tom’s breath hitched at your words. he still hasn’t told you, how he did propose, but you didn’t see it. he looked at his feet again, as he felt the velvet box in his jacket. he’s never got rid of it. and he’s always kept hold of it. he doesn’t know why. he just feels attached to it. and he hoped that he will be able to use it. and for you to actually see it. but, it’s not the right time. yet.
“come on. let’s go back to the apartment, yeah?”
you gave him a puzzled look, as he ignored your questions, but you soon brushed it off as you drove back to your shared apartment.
arriving back at the apartment, tom poured you both a glass of water, while you checked the footage from today, to see if you missed anything. even though this was your day off, the red dragons will still be working. you both watched in silence, only the gulps from drinking and the voices from the monitor, filling your ears.
“do you really trust the kingston’s?” a man asked keith. you and tom shot your head up, at the sound of your ‘names’.
“what time was this at?” tom asked.
“it’s live.” you replied, after looking at the time and date in the top corner.
“what do you mean?” keith asked, placing bullets in his gun.
“do you think it’s strange that they came in as soon as you asked a question? just seems as they were waiting.”
your eyes went wide, as did tom’s. could this be how your cover gets blown?
“well, if your so scared, why don’t we bring them in?”
before you could comprehend what he said, you phone beeped. you looked at tom, who was waiting to see the text.
unknown
come to the warehouse now. we need to chat.
you showed tom, as you both got ready, making sure to hide your badge super well, so your cover won’t get blown. you stopped, as you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. pulling it out, your breath hitched at what it read.
unknown
don’t bring the husband.
you gulped, showing tom. you watched how his face fell at the words. panic grew in his eyes, as he looked at you. he knew you could look after yourself, but he would rather be there. these people were unpredictable as well as dangerous, and if our cover is blown, he has no idea what will happen. one wrong move could be fatal. for you both.
“y/n-“
you shushed him, placing your gun in the back pocket, “i’ve been undercover on my own before. i know what to do.”
“i know. but, not with people this dangerous.”
“we haven’t got time to argue. i’m going in.”
tom sighed, shaking slightly as he tried not to think of the worst possible scenario, “o-okay, erm, here put this on.”
he gave you a small ear piece. you rolled your eyes, placing it in your ear, as tom spoke ‘testing’ into the microphone. you gave him a thumbs up, making tom grin slightly. walking over to him, you stood on your toes, and kissed tom’s cheek softly, to calm his nerves, as well as your own.
“if you feel uncomfortable or feel like something is going to happen, say the phrase, ‘the weather is nice today’, and the whole force will come through the door, okay?”
you placed a hand on his chest, nodding, “okay.”
“i don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” tom whispered, making your heart ache. bringing your fingers to chin, you moved his head to meet your eyes.
“i’ll be fine tom. i promise. i’ll be in and out.”
tom nodded, still unsure about if he should follow or not. but, before he could think about it even more, you already left, walking across the street to the warehouse. tom watched carefully, on the computer screen, your every movement.
“so much for a day off.” you mumbled, so only tom could hear. you heard tom stifle a laugh, before agreeing with you.
knocking on the door, you looked up at the cctv camera where you knew tom was watching. the door swung open, to reveal keith, with a cigarette in his mouth as per usual.
“ahhh, amelia. husband isn’t here is he?” keith asked, blowing smoke right in your face. you didn’t flinch though, just shrugged.
“you told me not to bring him. so i didn’t.”
keith nodded, waving his hand in the air, probably signalling someone. you guess was right, as two men appeared, with no emotion in their faces.
“come in.”
as you walked in, a loud squeak was heard in your earpiece. trying to ignore the noise, you followed keith.
meanwhile, tom couldn’t hear you. he couldn’t see where you were. somehow, all signals from inside the red dragons den, was stopped. you were on radio silence. and tom didn’t know what to do. his mind went to when his dad went missing. this is exactly what happened with him.
tom sat down. he couldn’t think straight. his mind was racing. are you dead? are you missing? he couldn’t breath. he’s empty without you. even though, it’s took a long time for him to realise.
“shit.” tom muttered, realisation hitting him like a train.
is this the end?
————
a/n- thanks for reading chapter 7! i can’t believe there’s only three chapters left :( have you been enjoying it?
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taglist-
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#tom holland#peter parker#peter parker imagine#peter parker imagines#peter parker x reader#peter parker x y/n#peter parker x you#spiderman#tom holland imagines#tom holland x you#tom holland oneshot#tom holland x y/n#tom holland x reader#fbi tom holland#fbi#tom holland x fbi agent#tom holland fbi#tom holland x fbi#fbi agent#tom holland series#partners in crime
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You Are Not Alone - Beverly Crusher X Reader
A/N: Hello! This a request for @iciclesandsnow so I do hope you enjoy it and I hope it’s what you wanted! Thank you for the request! x
TW: mentions of mental health, death and lots of crying. If any one of you reading needs someone or wants to talk, don’t hesitate to message me, I’m always here for anyone. Especially during a time like this. Be okay guys, I love you all. X
Days went on. Weeks went by. Years could have gone by for all you'd noticed. Nobody aboard the Enterprise knew what was going on in your life and your head, and if you had to be quite honest with yourself, neither did you. You couldn't remember the last time a genuine laugh had left your throat. These days it was pity laughs, laughs to keep up appearances, and those were starting to become more effort than they all were worth.
The beginning of your Starfleet career was amazing. You'd graduated the academy with top marks and found yourself assigned to your first mission within weeks of graduation. Your father was a captain, away on a 3-year mission. He was the closest family member you had, always encouraging you to follow in his footsteps, never once pushing you where you didn't want to go. To say you missed him was an understatement, the thought you were going to see him again soon kept you going.
Jean-Luc Picard was your captain on the Enterprise, and you couldn't have asked for anyone better to serve under. He was stern and serious, though deep down his close crew knew that he was a kindhearted man. The captain had become somewhat of a father figure to you, the advice he gave and the lessons you learned from him would stick with you for the rest of your life. A man who valued his crew and the relationships he had formed with them, he could tell when things weren't quite right. From what Jean-Luc gathered, he was not alone in his thinking.
Your captain wasn't the only relationship you'd formed during your time on board. People like Deanna Troi, Beverly Crusher and Will Riker became very close friends of yours, not mention the unexpected friendship that flourished with Worf and Data, the most unlikely of friends you'd thought you would make. You had the knack of getting along with anyone, and were more than friendly to all who knew you, which is why nobody wanted to see you as sad as you seemed.
"So what do you think it is?" Will asked to the group, consisting of Deanna, Worf and himself, all sat around a table in Ten Forward, the topic at hand being you. They exchanged glances before Deanna spoke up.
"I'm not sure, every time I see Y/N, there's a feeling of sadness, a real sadness, but I'm not quite sure what it is. I'd like to help, though I feel Y/N doesn't want that.." she trailed off in thought. Will sighed. "I don't do well in those situations either, I can't talk to people like that. I'm far from an emotions kind of man." Your friends wanted to help, but how, they knew not.
Going about your business in more than silence, you completed the tasks you needed to, finishing as quickly as possible so you could return to your quarters, having little to no energy or patience for your job today. Your comm badge rang, and the captain's voice rang through.
"Lieutenant Y/N, report to my ready room."
Sighing and standing, you didn't reply, but set off for the bridge nonetheless. Even in your current mindset, you were not one to ignore your higher officers orders. Stepping into the turbolift, you were met with Dr Crusher, who smiled sweetly at you. She was a very good friend, you could say you trusted her with anything. You meekly smiled back, barely even moving your lips.
"Y/N, everything alright?" Her question hit the air, silence offered as a reply.
"If you don't want to talk, that's perfectly fine. I'm worried, though. If you do need anyone for anything, please don't hesitate to come to me. I'm here to listen, and my arms are open, as always." She stepped out on her level, leaving you with a squeeze to the shoulder. You half smiled, a silent acknowledgement of her offer, she caught it and left you be. Your floor came and you made your way through the bridge, feeling some eyes on you as you walked. If you were facing them, you would have seen their worry. Giving each other glances, they returned to their work.
"Y/N, please have a seat" Picard said, a softness in his voice that wasn't usually present. Sitting, you stared at him, confused as to your summons. "We had word from Starfleet today concerning your father's ship." He took a deep breath, watching your face ever so slightly shift from confusion to concern. Continuing, he himself became nervous. "Your father's ship was attacked by Romulans two days ago, and your father died in the battle. From what Starfleet has said, he fought valiantly, he managed to save many lives, sadly not his own. I'm sorry, Y/N."
You stood, eyes planted at the floor.
"May I be excused, sir?" your voice came, barely a whisper. Looking up at him, he nodded, offering a sympathetic smile to you. Just what you wanted, sympathy. There was nothing worse, in your eyes. Storming off with a hell of a pace, you left the ready room, tears flowing fast down your face. Crew looked on, puzzled.
Reaching your quarters, in time you thought wasn't quick enough, you locked the door, and leaned your forehead against it. Slamming a hand down on the door, you pushed yourself off and smashed the vase off the table next to the door. It shattered against the wall with a deafening crash. Whatever switched in your head forced you to continue throwing things with no prejudice, whatever was closest hit the wall. The commotion from inside your quarters drew attention from two ensigns passing in the hall, who swiftly decided to alert the first senior officer they could find.
Minutes later, your quarters were a mess, shoes flung about, smashed statues and cups, possessions strewn all over the floor. The door chimed and you ignored it with full acknowledgement, and it persistently rang out, angering you more that someone had dared bother you at a time like this.
On the other side of the door stood Captain Picard, Worf and an extremely panicked Dr Crusher attempting to override your door lock. Picard placed his hand on Beverly's shaking ones as she tried her best to not her panic take over. She cared, it wasn't hard to see. She cared to the point that her nerves came to the surface. Wordlessly, he offered his support to her. The banging slowed, but still hadn't stopped, and the trio had finally gained access to your quarters.
Before you could turn to see who had entered, there were two dainty arms around your torso and a mane of ginger hair in your face. Beverly had engulfed you in a hug, and you lost it. Your tears flowed freely as she pulled back, bringing you to the edge of your bed to sit down. The captain and Worf surveyed the outcome of your rampage and the damage was awful. They turned their attention to where it should be for the moment. You.
"Y/N," the doctor's soft voice brought you from your thoughts, you looked up, your teary eyes meeting her very concerned blue ones. "What happened?" You couldn't answer and instead looked down at your lap, crying silently now. The two men shared a look before Picard bent down to your level.
"Whatever it is, you know we can all help. Any one of us is here for you at any time, you need only ask." He placed a hand on your knee and patted it gently, you smiled somewhat, though you weren't sure how genuine it was. You knew his words were true and you were grateful for the crew, your mind at the minute couldn't quite process that thought. "Mr Worf, let's leave them to it, there's no danger any more I don't think." You chuckled slightly, and because you were staring at your lap, you didn't notice the look shared between the three of them as the two men exited, leaving you and Beverly alone.
"Now, what happened?" You sniffed, as she moved to sit beside you rather than kneel in front of you. You began to explain.
"The past couple of weeks have been the hardest of my life, and I can't tell you why. I don't know why. It started with me feeling a little down, which I know from time to time is normal, so I didn't go to Deanna. It got worse as the weeks went on, I started being late, I couldn't finish reports and I couldn't even bring myself to socialise with the crew, with my friends." She took your hands as you stopped, a silent encouragement for you to continue. Beverly knew you needed to get this all out, and she was determined to make it happen.
"The captain told me earlier on that my father's ship was attacked by Romulans whilst on a science mission. He had managed to get some people out in shuttles but didn't make it himself. He was my rock, Beverly, he.." You couldn't even finish, and she took you in her arms, letting you cry it all out. After what seemed like an eternity for you, but had in reality been around 5 minutes, she let up as you calmed.
Beverly took your face in her hands and made you look at her. You could almost hear her heart break at the sight of you so red eyed and teary.
"I am so sorry, Y/N. I am so sorry this happened to you. Things like this are not easy to deal with, it doesn't need to be said. But always remember, I'm here for you. We all are. This crew is a family, and we stick together through the good times and the bad times. No matter how bad things get, help is always there." She wiped your remaining tears and smiled. Her smile was beautiful and contagious, you couldn't help but smile back. A genuine, tooth bearing smile for the first time in ages, because you knew. You knew that everything you'd been told was true. They were your family, and they had your back.
"How about we go and get something to eat, yeah?" She extended her hand and you took it, standing and thanking her silently. She grinned again, and began walking off, thankful she had her Y/N back again.
"One final thing. Remember, no matter how bad the fall, the crew of the Enterprise are always there to catch you."
#tw: mental health#tw: death#star trek imagine#star trek#star trek tng#the next generation#tng#beverly crusher#dr crusher#beverly crusher x reader#star trek x reader#x reader#imagine#beverley crusher imagine
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What are we waiting for?
Fandom: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Ship: The Enterprise Will Riker/Deanna Troi
Rating: T for descriptions of injury.
Words: 3,800+
Summary: A re-imagining of how my favourite space idiots got back together. Will is injured while on an away mission and Deanna questions everything that has led them to this moment. Basically just an angst-fest but I give them a happy ending because they deserve it goshdammit.
Author’s Note: Hello everyone! This is the first piece of fanfiction that I’ve written in a very long time, so I do apologise if I’m a bit rusty. I’ve been watching Star Trek TNG all summer long and have been wistfully longing for these two to just get it together and get together already. But since that’s not going to happen in-series, I’m just going to make it happen for my damn self. Canon? What canon? I don’t know her. But I hope you enjoy!
- Saturn
[Photo pinched from kirksfattitties]
‘What are we waiting for?’
She was on the Bridge when it happened.
It should have been a routine mission, investigating the planet’s surface for artifacts left by a long-extinct race. The captain had sent a small away team to the surface to explore, including a few science officers, Worf, and of course Will to lead the group. In constant contact with the Enterprise, they’d been relaying their findings as they happened - a piece of art here, an ancient tool there. Every new discovery caused Picard’s face to light up a little bit more; it didn’t take an empath to know that he was delighted with the discovery of an ancient civilisation’s history.
“Captain,” Worf’s gruff voice came over the communicator, “We’ve found a structure of some kind. It looks like it may have once been a temple.” The transmission sounded slightly fuzzy, as though they were losing signal slightly.
Authorative and clear, Picard praised his chief of security. “Excellent find, Mr Worf. Let’s see what’s in there.”
“Ackowledged.” Again, the transmition didn’t sound as clear as it should. There seemed to be some sort of interference.
The away team continued their exploration, and carried on detailing the various interesting things they discovered. The communicator signal kept deteriorating.
“Cap-” The transmission was breaking up so badly it was clipping some of Will’s words as he spoke. “There’s- ... kind of mosaic. I think- ... to see it-”
“Can you repeat that, Number One?”
“I sai-... mosaic in the tem-... Get down!”
Everyone on the Bridge tensed at Will’s sudden order to the away team. He’d sounded startled, almost panicked. Something had gone wrong.
Picard shifted forward in his chair, alert. “Report, Number One.” No one came in to respond. “Picard to Commander Riker.” Silence again. “Picard to Lieutenant Wo-”
“Captain-” Again, Worf addressed the Captain and the others on the bridge. “Th- ... under atta- ... Riker is injur-”
“Picard to Transporter Room Three. Can you get a lock on the away team?”
Deanna’s heart was in her throat, barely listening as the transport engineer responded something about too much disruption to beam them back. She knew that Worf had been trying to tell them the words she had dreaded ever hearing: ‘Commander Riker is injured’.
She had always known that their positions aboard the Enterprise came with a degree of risk. There was always a possibility that crew members could be injured, or worse. As such, she’d sometimes found herself imagining how she’d react when those words reached her ears. Would she be calm and composed, her every thought coming to her with perfect clarity as she came to a logical solution to his plight? Would she shut down, become a useless dead weight, having no way to help? Would she play the hero, demand to be beamed to join them, so she could fight and vanquish whatever foe had dared to hurt him?
And now that she’d heard those words, she knew the answer. She would panic.
“Captain, do something!” she all but sobbed, turning to the Captain. He ignored her, focusing on the task at hand, contacting various transport rooms, engineers, and of course the away team. How Deanna envied that focus, that usefulness, while her mind conjured hideous images of whatever and whoever had injured Will. A blade, a phaser, some awful weapon of war used to destroy and maim...
“Captain-” Worf’s voice cut through the panic swirling through her mind. “Every- ... stunned. We’re- ... way to some- ... less disruption- ... -mander Riker- ... medical attention-”
The message was badly broken up, but the Captain quickly interpreted it. “Picard to Transporter Room Three, as soon as you can get a lock on the away team, beam them directly to Sick Bay. Picard to Sick Bay, expect the away team any moment. Commander Riker has been injured. The condition of the rest of the team is unknown.” The people he’d addressed over the communicator quickly acknowledged the message. “Counselor, in my ready room please.”
She could hear her own heartbeat drumming in her ears as she followed his orders.
“One of the things I most value in your presence on the Bridge, counselor, is your composure.”
“I-”
He interrupted her, and she fell silent as he spoke. “We all know that serving with Starfleet carries a great risk. And I should think that nobody recognises the importance of a level head in an emergency as much as you do.” He stopped to allow her a chance to speak.
“Captain, I-” Deanna swallowed a lump in her throat, suppressing the urge to raise her voice as her fearful thoughts continued. “I apologise. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Well I do. And I need it not to cloud your judgement or interrupt your professionalism again.” She was going to ask what he meant by his suggestion that he knew what had come over her, but he continued. “I’m placing you on leave for the time being. You need some time to regain your focus.”
Deanna wanted to argue, but she decided against it. She recognised that this was not the time to disagree with Captain Picard. “Yes, Captain.”
“Now, let’s get to Sick Bay.” He placed a gentle hand on her arm as he led her to the door, comforting and guiding her in one.
~
When they got to Sick Bay, it was in a flurry of activity. Deanna heard Dr. Crusher confidently issuing commands to her team, as the medical officers ran back and forth with various devices and medical instruments. She saw Worf first, sitting upright, protesting to a medical officer that he was ‘fine, a warrior embraces his scars’ as she tried to heal a cut on his chest. One of the science officers from the away team was lying on a bed, silent and still, no one tending to him. Deanna realised with sickening certainty that it was because he was already dead.
From behind a crowd of medical personnel, she heard Will’s groans of pain. He was normally so in control and composed. She knew his pain must have been severe for him to so much as acknowledge it, let alone hiss and yelp as the medical officers worked on him.
“Doctor, report.” A path cleared for the captain to approach the bed Will was lying on, and Deanna followed. Will met her gaze, and she could see from his face that he was suffering a great deal. But he was alive, so she still felt relief flood through her.
“Just a moment, captain.” Beverly injected something into Will’s neck. His groans of pain slowly faded to small whimpers, before he fell silent. Deanna watched his limbs become heavy as the muscles relaxed. His head rolled grotesquely. “He was in a lot of pain. It was better to make him unconscious before we continued.”
“What happened?” Picard demanded.
Worf answered, “Sir, we were attacked while exploring the temple. I did not recognise the species. They didn’t use phasers, but they had many weapons. The commander was investigating something when they attacked him from behind. It was... not very honourable.”
Beverly went on, “His right leg is broken. He appears to have been beaten with something heavy that smashed the bones in three places.” She gestured to the corresponding places on his mangled leg. Deanna managed a quick glance, then quickly looked away. “His stomach was slashed with something sharp. I’ve managed to stop the bleeding, but it seems to be too deep to heal it quickly. I’ll keep working on it. He was also stabbed in the chest-”
A sob escaped Deanna’s throat at those words. It felt as though she, too, had been stabbed. She felt a hand on her shoulder as the captain tried to comfort her, then he gestured for Dr. Crusher to continue.
“The blade missed his heart by half an inch, captain. And the angle at which it entered the body enabled the left lung to be punctured.” As if to emphasise that point, Will sucked in a juddery breath. “It appears that he fell and broke his left wrist. That’s a clean break though, easily repaired. And whatever weapon was used on his leg was also used on the back of his head. His skull is fractured, but scans show no brain damage. A miracle really.”
In a small voice, Deanna squeaked out, “Is- is he going to be alright?”
Beverly took a deep breath. “I don’t know the answer to that, Deanna. We’re going to do our absolute best, but his injuries are very severe and his condition is serious.” She reached forward and took Deanna’s hand in her own. “I promise you that I will give him the best chance I am capable of.”
Deanna swallowed, and nodded slowly. She leant down, pressing a gentle kiss to Will’s forehead. He was caked with blood, and she could taste his sweat, but she didn’t care. She needed him to know that she was there.
Realising that there was nothing she could do to help, Deanna slipped away to allow the medical team to do their job. She left Sick Bay, and made it all of two steps before she slumped to the floor against the wall of the corridor, allowing her anxious tears to fall freely.
~
Hours later, Beverly’s voice burst through Deanna’s comm-badge. “Dr. Crusher to Counselor Troi, you can come and see him now.”
Deanna struggled to her feet, her aching joints protesting. She wasn’t sure how long she’d remained in that position, her back pressed to the wall, knees pulled tightly to her chest by her shaking hands. Her face was still damp from tears, but now her eyes and her mouth felt uncomfortable dry and almost prickly.
Beverly looked surprised when the doors to sick bay opened. Deanna felt the doctor’s concern when she realised that her friend had been waiting right outside the door all this time.
“I’ve stopped all the bleeding, and mended the bones as much as possible. Don’t look too closely at his leg; it’ll freak you out. You should know that he is still unconscious. It was the kindest thing to do given the fact that he is still injured. And I’ll need to run some neurological scans on him before I feel confident waking him up. Deanna, he looks sick. But I can tell you he’s probably in better shape than he looks.”
Deanna nodded in acknowledgement, and braced herself as Beverly led her to a private room off the main Sick Bay. She was grateful for Beverly’s warning when she saw him.
His face was ashen, and his hair was matted with dried blood. His shirt was off, and she could see the gnarled scar across his abdomen from where he’d been slashed. Thankfully the wound was now closed, but Deanna imagined that the scar would probably be with him for the rest of his life. The stab wound to his chest appeared to have been a cleaner injury. While there was still some scarring, it was rather minimal given the damage that had been done, and the line of it was straight, not jagged and rough like the other. While his lower half was covered with a sheet, she could see the outline of his legs. The right one seemed to be jutting out in unusual places. She took Beverly’s advice and didn’t look at it too closely. Will’s breath was unusually laboured and noisy, and for once Deanna couldn’t sense his emotions, no matter how hard she tried. For now, it seemed he was closed to her.
“Will.” Deanna’s voice cracked as she spoke on a whisper, moving to the bed to take his hand in hers.
He was normally so large, so jovial, so full of life. Now he looked small and frail. She raised the hand she was holding to her lips, and pressed a kiss to each of his knuckles in turn.
“I’m here. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
She remained by his side for several more hours. Her deft hands stroked his forehead soothingly, gently caressed his shoulders, carefully brushed his neck in a way she hadn’t done since they were far younger. At one point she requested a bowl of water, and she rinsed the blood and grime from his hair and beard. As it dried, she brushed it tenderly, grateful for a task that made her feel she had some use.
She spoke to him too, reminding him that she was present. She spoke of little things she remembered from their lives together so far. Of poker games, kisses on Betazed, relaxed evenings in Ten Forward. Of comforting hugs, the boredom of personnel reviews, and teaching him to enjoy chocolate as much as she did. She told him of all the things she would miss if he did not come out of this okay.
“So please,” she whispered to him softly. “Please be okay.”
Sometimes she tried to read his emotions, tried to pass hers to him. Their telepathic link wasn’t as strong as it had once been, but now it seemed tightly closed. It made her eyes flood with tears to think that it might remain that way forever.
When Beverly came to check on him, Deanna stepped to the side, but kept a watchful eye over the proceedings. She saw Beverly’s frown as she took some readings, and sensed a feeling of concerned disappointment from her.
“What’s wrong?”
Beverly sighed, and met her friend’s anxious gaze. “I would have expected an improvement on these readings, but they’re almost exactly the same as they were eight hours ago. I had hoped to be able to wake him up soon, now it’s looking like I was getting ahead of myself. I’m sorry, Deanna.”
Realising she wouldn’t get a response from her silent friend, Beverly slipped out of the room, leaving Deanna alone with Will once more.
“You know what all this is making me realise, Will?” Briefly, she paused, as though allowing him a chance to respond. Of course, he didn’t, and Deanna went on. “We are absolute idiots.”
She took a seat beside his lifeless body, capturing his hand tightly in hers again as she continued. “I mean, what are we doing? I’m still in love with you, and you’re still in love with me, and we both know that, for gods’ sakes. You date other people, and I date other people, and it never works out. And why does it never work out? Because we don’t want it to! We constantly push away something that could be good, could be real, because it’s not what we want.
“Will, when I was waiting on that planet for you, slowly realising you weren’t coming, my heart broke. And it remained broken for years afterwards. You were the first man I ever loved, and I knew I could never truly get over you. Even when I thought I’d never see you again, I knew you’d always be a part of me.
“And then here I was, minding my own business, and then you came in and everything just came flooding back. Will, I’m so glad you’re here. You are my closest friend, my Imzadi, and I am so tired of trying not to love you to be professional.” Tears started to cascade down her cheeks. “I don’t care about being professional. I don’t care what anybody else on this ship thinks. I don’t care about any of it.
“When you came back, Will, I was terrified. I was so scared that you were going to hurt me again. But nothing could hurt me more than this. You could have been dead.”
She interrupted herself with a loud sob. “You could be dead, and I’d never see you again. And I never would have taken that chance, that chance to hold you, to kiss you, to love you. And that chance wouldn’t come again. I couldn’t live with that regret, I know I couldn’t. To know that I could have had you all to myself forever if I had just been brave, and to know that I missed out because I was scared. I was scared of rejection, scared of getting hurt, scared of looking unprofessional, and it just doesn’t matter!
“So for goodness’ sake, William Riker, what are we waiting for?”
She pulled his hand closer to her, breathing deeply. Stillness settled over the room.
In spite of her sombre surroundings, a wry laugh escaped Deanna’s lips. “There’s a chance that you didn’t hear that. And I’m going to have to pour my heart out to you all over again.” She took a breath to continue speaking, then stopped.
Deanna paused. Listened.
It was faint, so faint that it could have been a figment of her imagination, but it was familiar. She could sense Will.
As she continued to focus her attention on him, his feelings were growing stronger, clearer. She could feel that he was hurting, though not as bad as before. His leg was flooded with a dull pain, and every inhalation felt like a repeated stab. She knew that he was worried. About what happened, about his upcoming recovery. She could sense his anger towards the monsters that did this to him. To take him by surprise and attack him so violently, so viciously, so mercilessly. His response was a white-hot rage, fuelled by mild embarrassment that he hadn’t had his wits about him.
One thing was cutting through every other feeling she could sense from him. Love. Love for her, warm and sweet, and constant. In all these years, it hadn’t faded. She felt how it had burst through him when he first saw her again, and how it enveloped him every time he saw her after that. She felt his longing, his yearning for her, how many times he’d envisioned their future together. She felt his utter adoration for her as it coursed through his veins, blurred his every thought until his mind was just Deanna, Deanna, Deanna.
And then she felt his fingers twitch. Her eyes flew to his face to see as movement beneath his eyelids caused them to flicker slightly. His brow furrowed, and a quiet groan escaped his mouth.
Not looking away, Deanna cried out, “Beverly?”
Within moments the doctor hurried into the room, scanning Will’s body and head and looking to Deanna in shock.
“He’s waking up.”
“Is that dangerous?”
“It shouldn’t be. It’s just a sign that his consciousness is a bit stronger than I anticipated. It’s better to let him wake himself up now. I can knock him back out if need be.”
Another quiet sound from Will caught their attention, and Deanna hurriedly looked back down at his face, just in time to see his eyelids fluttering open. He blinked a few times, then his eyes met hers.
“Im-” He broke off, heaving a difficult breath. “Imzadi.” He was gazing at her with such certainty, such love, that Deanna thought it could have knocked her off her chair. She jumped to her feet, moved her hands to cup his face, and captured his lips with her own. His weak hand moved to wrap around her small waist as he returned the kiss.
She broke away, pressing her forehead to his as they kept their eyes closed.
“Imzadi,” she whispered. Relief flooded through her as she realised that he was really okay, and that they had the rest of their lives to spend making up for wasted time.
~
Two Years Later
She was on the bridge when it happened.
His recovery had been a gradual one, but Deanna had been by Will’s side to help him every day since his attack. Thanks to Beverly’s expert medical treatment and Deanna’s attentive care, he was almost fully healed physically. He walked with an almost imperceptable limp, and the scar across his stomach was fainter but still present. Deanna said it made him look rugged.
They were the only two people on the bridge, having taken the graveyard shift together. Normally only Data would take this shift, and the rest of the senior crewmen would be resting, but Data’s cat, Spot, had been unwell for a few days and he’d wanted to remain in his quarters in case anything changed.
Will sat in the Captain’s chair, and Deanna sat in his, acting as his First Officer. Their hands were entwined together over the console. They’d activated the screen in front of them to show them what was going on outside the ship, and sat in comfortable silence watching the infinite ocean of stars in front of them.
It was Will who broke the silence. “Imzadi.” Hearing the word alone was enough to flood her with warmth. “I’ve been thinking about something for a very long time, but I was worried about what your response might be. But tonight, I’ve been thinking: ‘What are we waiting for?’“
He smoothly slid out of the Captain’s chair and onto one knee, clasping her hand in his.
“Deanna Troi, daughter of the Fifth House of Betazed, Heir to th-”
Laughing, she pressed her free hand to his lips to stop him continuing with the ridiculous spiel. “Just ‘Deanna’ is fine!”
He flashed her a mischievious grin when she removed her hand. “Deanna, I love you with all my heart, and I promise to protect, serve, and honour you for the rest of our lives and for whatever comes after. My Imzadi, will you marry me?”
“Of course I will.”
She pulled him to his feet and he wrapped her in his arms, pressing an elated kiss to her lips. It seemed that every moment in their lives up to now had been leading to this, and Deanna looked to the future with excitement.
~
The next day, as they proudly announced their engagement to their friends and colleagues, Deanna caught Captain Picard’s eye. She remembered something he’d said to her on that fateful day just a few years before.
“Captain, may I speak with you?” she politely requested once all the excitement and congratulations had died down. He nodded his agreement, and gestured towards his Ready Room. When they were alone, Deanna said, “After Will’s attack, when you had to give me a telling off-” They both shared a smile at the memory. It was funny now that years had passed. “I told you that I didn’t know what had come over me, and you said that you did know. And at the time I wanted to ask what you meant, but it slipped my mind.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t worked it out for yourself, Deanna.”
She took a pause to collect her thoughts. She remembered the sheer panic that had gripped her, the knowledge that the entire away team was in danger, but her mind was consumed with just one member of it.
Slowly, and with a soft kind of realisation, Deanna stated simply: “It was love. Love is what came over me.”
#Riker/Troi#Riker/Troi Fanfic#Riker/Troi Fanfiction#Riker/Troi Oneshot#Riker/Troi One Shot#Imzadi#Imzadi Fanfic#Imzadi Fanfiction#Imzadi Oneshot#Imzadi One Shot#Star Trek#Star Trek Fanfic#Star Trek Fanfiction#Star Trek Oneshot#Star Trek One Shot#The Next Generation#The Next Generation Fanfic#The Next Generation Fanfiction#The Next Generation Oneshot#The Next Generation One Shot#Deanna Troi#Will Riker#Counseler Deanna Troi#Commander William T Riker#Star Trek: The Next Generation#Star Trek TNG#My Writing#Musings of Saturn
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