#Chernobyl HBO Fanfiction

[butcher--boy]

hbo chernobyl fanfiction highlights

[corn-fanfiction]

Barker (Valery Legasov x Reader) pt 2

I'm going crazy. She krem on my lin till I uhhhhh. Bits taken straight from the script luv u HBO I don't own your content 🫶 I love Khomyuk and Valery and Boris. I'm sorry I'm like this forreal I just wanna jump old man bones.

Fic under cut.

The hallway inside the Kremlin was long, too long, long enough to be a bad joke, and carved like white chocolate. You sat with Valery on that couch outside of the committee meeting room. You were both exhausted, but you carried your concern more physically. While Valery was collapsed into the couch, your back was straight and your eyes bounced from face to face.

"How did you sleep?"

Your head snapped to Valery, who looked as though he was trying to make casual conversation.

"Not well, but I knew I wouldn't. You?"

Valery sighed and shook his head.

"Not a wink."

"And no further word?"

Valery simply shook his head again. Your leg began to bounce on its own until Valery's hand found your knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. It was the shock, not the comfort, which halted you. Valery seemed to either not consider it impropriety or he didn't care.

You two stared at each other until Boris made himself known. He nodded to you then looked to Valery.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Boris waited a beat, looking between you and Valery with shifty eyes. He cleared his throat.

"Khomyuk was arrested last night."

You shot up from your seat to stand but Valery spoke first.

"What? Why?"

"I don't know," came Boris' raspy voice. Valery was silent for a moment, and all you could think about was where Khomyuk might be, whether they had her in a typical prison, or someplace temporary, or someplace much worse. If they had hurt her. If-

Valery spoke your questions.

"Was it-?"

"Of course it was," Boris said. "I'm working on it."

You almost never spoke to Shcherbina out of turn- he was a very intimidating man after all- but you couldn't help yourself.

"Comrade Shcherbina-"

"I said I'm working on it." He looked between you and Valery. "What more do you want from me?"

Ideally, you wanted him to barge in there and demand answers from the Director of the KGB, or better yet, to let you do so. But you knew he wouldn't, so for the moment you let the bubbling fury go.

"Fix your tie," Boris snapped at Valery, who sat up and did as he was instructed. The secretary came from the meeting room and told them to come inside. It wasn't until Valery stood that you pulled from your thoughts and followed.

"Wait- let me take her seat." You grabbed the sleeve of Valery's jacket. He turned.

"It's not my decision," he said, rather forlorn looking. You looked past him at Boris.

"Boris-"

Boris turned to you sharply, and you thought he would chastise you for using his name, but he didn't.

"Stay put," he said. "You'll only cause more trouble if you go in."

With that, the two men walked inside and the door closed behind them. Dejected, you walked back to the small couch and sat. Khomyuk in the hands of the KGB. If they hadn't made her disappear yet, then it was only a matter of time before they did. Khomyuk was stubborn, same as you, but stubborness cannot delay a bullet to the brain.

You thought back to the day you met Ulana Khomyuk in earnest. Others were a shoe-in for assistant positions at the Institute, but not you. You fought for success. Good marks had never come easy to you. You would conflict tirelessly with those who doubted you but would soothe the offense with charm. But charm, like stubbornness...

You waited beyond a place of anxiety- a sort of half world between full awareness of the gravity of the situation, that any one of you could be next if you weren't careful, and a strange reassurance that if the KGB was at your heels, then perhaps there was truth to the work you, and all the other men and women, were doing. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, because would it at all matter if they were all dead?

Well, they would certainly all die, and sooner than any of them ever thought, but to be silenced was different. And now, all you could think about was confronting the silencer.

It felt like an eternity before the door finally opened again. Unfamiliar faces file out of the room, then Valery and Boris, and a man who strode past you had captured Valery's attention. You knew what this meant, and while you saw Valery gathering himself to confront this man, you realized something. Valery was known. Valery was constantly putting himself at risk, pushing and pushing until it was no longer safe, then retreating. If Valery pushed in this moment, you would be afraid of the consequences.

So, you addressed the man yourself.

"Excuse me?"

Behind you, Boris harshly whispered your name, and Valery held your arm. You ignored him. The elderly man turned.

"Yes? Do I know you?"

You cleared your throat, wet your lips, and tried to gather your courage. He was an unassuming man, but that meant nothing here.

"Chairman Charkov, my name is (y/n) and I am assisting Professors Legasov and Khomyuk and Deputy Chairman Shcherbina in the Chernobyl efforts."

He waited a beat for you could continue, but your words got caught in your throat.

"Yes?"

"I-"

What was happening to you? You were so we'll spoken and headstrong until this exact moment, looking in the eyes of arguably one of the most powerful men in the Soviet Union, and an image of Khomyuk's dead body floated before your eyes. If you did this wrong, would it ruin everything?

Before you felt like you'd fall apart completely, Valery brushes past you a bit.

"One of our associates was arrested last night. I mean no disrespect, but we were hoping you could tell us why."

"I'm sorry, I don't know who you're talking about."

"She was arrested by the KGB. You are the first Deputy Chairman of the KGB."

Valery's voice was tinged with irony and it scared you. Perhaps it would not be for the best if Valery handled this confrontation?

"I am. Which is why I don't have to bother with arresting people anymore."

Charkov gave you all a small, humble smile and turned to leave. Valery stepped forward again.

"But you are bothering with having us followed."

Now it was you who grabbed at Valery's arm and you said his name quietly, the was Boris had said yours. He was going too far, and only last night he was worried about you asking on Gorbachev's personality. Charkov turned to face Valery in a stark silence. Boris approached from behind you two.

"Professor, I think the Deputy Chairman is busy," Boris began. Charkov interrupted him.

"No, it's perfectly understandable. Professor, I know you've heard the stories about us. Even when I hear them, I am shocked. But we are not what people think we are. Yes, you're being followed. People are following those people. And those people," he gestured behind him. "They're following me. The KGB is a circle of accountability. Nothing more."

You watched as Valery shifted in his stance.

"You know the work we're doing here. You really don't trust us?"

"Of course we do. But you know the old Russian proverb: trust, but verify. And the Americans think Reagan made that up. Can you believe it?"

He turned to leave again. He truly was going to leave without addressing Khomyuk, go back to wherever he sits between meetings, and do whatever he does to innocent civilians. Your blood boiled.

"I need her," Valery said as a last ditch effort. Charkov turned back.

"And you will be accountable for her?"

"Yes."

Charkov shrugged as though it was nothing. "Then it's done."

Valery stuttered. "Her name is-"

"I know who she is. Good day."

Finally, Charkov leaves. Valery looked at you in shock, then you both looked back at Boris. You're all presenting the same degree of disbelief. Valery waited for Boris to criticize him, but he shook his head.

"No, that went surprisingly well. You both came off as naïve idiots, and naïve idiots are not a threat."

Boris took leave to follow after someone of equal power to him, to ask them questions about materials or finances. Now that it was only you and Valery, you allowed the mask to slip. You held your face in your hands.

"You did well," Valery preemptively assured you.

"I froze."

"Against a man like that? It was practically a survival instinct," Valery said quieter, then placed a polite hand on your lower back as you walked from the hallway and exited the building.

Valery had gotten a phone call of where to find Khomyuk: Moscow, near the hospital he'd asked her to visit. He'd have to take one of the helicopters if he was going to get there in a decent enough time. He wanted to go alone, thought it was for the best if you didn't follow him. The memory of you describing yourself as a dog, a kicked dog, that follows people around, haunted him. If he could get to Moscow without involving you, he would.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy your company, quite the opposite. In fact, an ulterior motive for leaving you behind was that he didn't want to be seen with you more than necessary around the KGB. It didn't help that you both accosted the first deputy chairman in an open hallway in the Kremlin. He already put himself and Ulana at risk by insisting on her release. To indicate anything farther than comradery, such as friendship or something else, invited scrutiny and weakness.

Unfortunately for him, you'd bent the ear of a young officer that seemed keen on you and found out that a helicopter bound for Moscow was soon to depart with one traveler. When Valery exited his suite, you were waiting outside in the hall.

You startled him, that was certain, judging by the way he jumped at the sight of you. You smiled.

"You tried to leave before I found out?"

He sighed. "(Y/n...)"

"I feel so useless in that stupid hallway," you half joked. "And without you and Khomyuk, I'm useless here, still. Boris means well but he has nothing for me to do. And-" you hesitated. "I want to see her, Valery."

Your use of his name gave him pause, but that wouldn't sway him so easy.

"I'm not sure that-"

"Not sure. You're the smartest person within one hundred kilometers and you're not sure of two things within the past twenty-four hours, and they both have to do with me."

He looked at you like you were one of the one-hundred page packets of reports that come out of those Kremlin meetings. Like you were an unsolvable problem- or a problem it was up to him to solve.

That's when you realized why he was trying to leave you behind. You decided to do him the courtesy of not speaking this realization. However, almost as if you didn't need to, he seemed to understand.

"Alright. But...try to keep quiet, and keep your head down."

"Like you?"

Coming from anyone else, and going to anyone else, it might've seemed a cruel remark. But he smiled to show he understood your recognition of how he survives in these politics, just as if he were to crack a joke about dogs to you.

But he wouldn't. He would never.

You tried to talk to Valery on the helicopter ride to Moscow but he shut you down every time, and you knew it was for the best. Even if you asked him about the Chernobyl efforts, he was tight lipped. It was evening when you landed, and vaguely uniformed officers walked you through a jail, something that looked to be a transition location. That in particular bothered you, because where would Khomyuk have ended up if Valery hadn't intervened?

The officers walked you both to a cell and let you in. There Khomyuk sat, dressed it a nurse's garb, and she looked at you and Valery with a genuine, wide-eyed relief. While Valery stood composed behind you, you decided to take advantage of him as a guard and you collapsed onto Khomyuk with an embrace. She held you back and stroked your hair.

"I was so worried," you said. Khomyuk shushed you.

"Don't you dare lose sleep over me," she said. You'd never viewed Khomyuk as a motherly figure- you'd almost consider it a discredit. You didn't need a mother. What you needed was a mentor, and that's precisely what Khomyuk gave you.

You pulled away, half in shame, as Valery came further into the room and sat beside Khomyuk. You couldn't sit for the excitement. The room itself seemed to be peeling, collapsing inward. Perhaps that was how you were forced to look at everything anymore.

"Are you alright?" Valery asked.

"They didn't hurt me," assured Khomyuk. "They let a pregnant woman into a room with a... Oh, it doesn't matter. They were stupid, I was stupid."

You could only imagine. Khomyuk, like Valery, like you, was often too smart for her own good. Where Valery often played a long game, if Khomyuk saw an opportunity to fix something, she was damn well going to take it. It was impressive. It was terrifying.

"Dyatlov won't talk to me," she continued. "Akimov, yes, Toptunov, yes, but..." She looked over at you sadly. "Akimov...his face was gone."

You watched as Valery mistook her words.

"You want to stop?"

Khomyuk sighed. "Is that a choice I even have?"

There was a silence. You took a seat next to Khomyuk on the cell bed and she put a hand on your knee. Valery set his head against the wall.

"Do you think the fuel will actually melt through the concrete pad?"

"I don't know. A 40% chance maybe."

Valery chuckled weakly. "I said 50."

You smiled then, looking at him past Khomyuk. He was so charming when he was relaxed like this, and he almost never was.

"If anyone was curious," you spoke up, clearing your throat. "The numbers mean the same thing. 'Maybe'."

Valery's voice grew softer. "Maybe the reactor core will melt through to the groundwater. Maybe the miners who I've told to dig under the reactor will save millions of lives. Maybe I'm killing them for nothing."

He looked at Khomyuk, at you. "I don't want to do this anymore. I want to stop. But I can't. I don't think you have a choice any more than I do."

It made you wonder: how much of a choice would you have, if you asked? How far removed were you from the core of decisions, from the center of importance that you could actually walk away? Did it matter?

"I think, despite the stupidity, the lies, even this...you are compelled. We all are. The problem has been assigned and you will stop at nothing until you find an answer. Because, that is who you are."

It was turning too personal, too intimate between them. Part of it embarrassed you, as though you were intruding on something, and another part confused you, though you couldn't say why.

Khomyuk laughed. "A lunatic, then."

"No," you muttered. "If that were true, we'd all deserve to be here."

"No," Valery agreed. "A scientist."

Outside in the hall, Khomyuk told you and Valery about how the reactor core exploded after the engineers had pressed AZ-5, how Akimov and Toptunov both agreed, and how she believed them. She said she'd interview them again if they were still awake. Valery said they weren't.

Khomyuk was called to be processed from the jail. Sitting on the bench, under the bright lights and staring at sickening green paint, you began to feel a bit dizzy. Sleep continued to elude you.

"Does it ever feel," you began with your head between your knees. "That you're simply bandaging something?"

"It's all I ever think about," came Valery's gruff voice. You sighed at the floor.

"I've always found that funny, you know. People say that you should find a cure, not a bandage for a problem. But... without bandages, wounds bleed out before they can be sewn shut. Nobody knows what to do yet everyone doubts. You doubt."

You straighten to look at him. You can see the bags of your eyes in the reflection of his large glasses. "I doubt because we are gambling."

"Gambling is chance, this is calculated risk. You can muse and wonder if what you're doing is right by all those people, I can't tell you not to. But...day in and day out, you, Ulana, Boris, Tarakanov, you all push and push, you do everything you can and you don't even blink. Those miners know the risks they put themselves at. The boys we draft, the volunteers we send- bandages. And the patient can still die. The world can still end."

You stared at him and took his hand that rested between the two of you on the bench.

"Don't doubt. There's no time, and there's no purpose. It won't save you from the doubt of others, and I think that's the problem."

Valery closed his eyes and sighed. "Is that my problem?"

You squeezed his hand and his eyes opened. You were being quiet, as he asked, and no one was around to see. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or the trance inducing nature of the room, but you felt uninhibited. You hand came up and brushed a piece of hair from his forehead. He only watched you, like it was some tragedy that could not be prevented.

"It's a lesser one to have."

[johnlockismyreligion]

A quick, funny piece.

@elenatria @alyeen1 @litttlesilkworm @chernobylflowers @4everflowercore @ninullen @fuerst-von-argot @stardustweare88 @art-is-a-malady @shark-from-the-park @kaiserrr19

[corneliushickey]

when you spend any amount of time in fandom spaces there is generally so much power to be drawn from learning to express distaste instead of discomfort. it's so easy to frame discomfort as harm, is the thing

like, to use a personal example, people are writing abo fanfiction about hbo's chernobyl miniseries. i find this distasteful. i think it's in poor taste. but at the end of the day people just really want to fuck jared harris in their weird little ways, and they have little to no emotional attachment to the historical nuclear catastrophy he's dramatizing.

i could turn this into "people are belittling and dismissing this horrible tragedy by using it as background to their dog dick porn. this is harmful! it's dismissive! it's disrespectful!"

but the reality is far less insidious than that, and framing it as "i find it to be in poor taste to use the chernobyl disaster as background to your dog dick porn" is more accurate, uses "i statements", and generally lowers my blood pressure

you can be annoyed at how people choose to interact with any given work, as is your right to do, but recognizing that fandom stuff is rarely of grave moral concern will truly set you free

[ninjiniz]

Gif by @michaelmandog

EN: ✨️Welcome!✨️ Here you'll find a sort of 'table of contents' of my blog. But first of all, I'd like to make something clear. I move easily from one fandom to another, back to fandoms and so on. I'm relatively impulsive, so I edit/draw what I like at the time. Too bad for popularity. On that note, enjoy!

FR : ✨️Bienvenue !✨️Vous trouverez ci-dessous le "sommaire" en quelque sorte de mon blog. Mais avant toute chose, j'aimerai mettre quelque chose au clair. Je vais facilement d'une fandom à l'autre, pour ensuite revenir dans des fandoms et ainsi de suite. Je suis relativement impulsif donc j'édite et dessine ce qui me plaît sur le moment, tant pis pour la popularité. Sur ce, profitez de votre temps ici !

Recurrent content:

NBC Hannibal 🦌

Batman 🦇

The Hobbit/Lotr 🗻

Gorillaz 🏝

Star Wars 🪐

Overwatch 🐷

Zelda🔺️

Attack on Titans 🧣

The Count of Monte Cristo (2024) 🗡

Better Call Saul ⚖️

HBO Chernobyl 🐛

Hamilton ⭐️

Hazbin Hotel 🗝

Good Omens 🥂

Fanfictions:

Jason Brody (Far Cry 3)

The cost of fairytales (The Hobbit)

Just in case (Attack on Titan)

Traitors and submissives (Zelda: Age of Calamity)

Animations:

Hollow Knight: Hornet tells about her childhood

Pokemon: Spinarak

[sad-lad-posts]

What about a Chernobyl musical AU?

Sorry I took a super long fucking break from this app. I lowkey forgot it existed 😂

So, what if Valery and Ulana were musicians? Maybe Boris is a kind of grouchy orchestra director or just not a music person... I dont really know where to go with this, but its an idea 😂

[solli-sun]

[4everflowercore]

🕯🌿Kupala Night 🌻🌙

(Read below for explanation of „Kupala Night“ )

It’s early July. Boris and Valery have been in Prypjat for several months now.

They’ve grown close friends and been there for each other in their most miserable moments.

In many sleepless nights when they were to tired to think of work still insomnia wouldn’t let them rest they talked about their lives.

Both men have been born in rural areas but came to Moscow looking for more.

Boris would tell Valery about his parents home that he still owns even if they have already passed away many years ago. About his father. A simple man always aspiring a better life for his family but never really making something out of himself.

And Valery would tell him about his mother. A kind woman that died to young. About the baked goods she used to make and the herbs from her garden that made their whole home smell like an apothecary. About him sometimes feeling left alone in the world and missing her deeply even if he can’t even remember her face anymore.

They would listen carefully as if nothing else mattered more in the world. After all everything both of them had left was the other. The only solid rock in a crumbling and deadly environment.

Boris would often take Valery for a nightly walk when both could be sure the KGB men would already be sleeping. Valery valued these times the most. They both need the distraction when days seem to have no end.

So one evening when the sun already tinted the whole sky in a bright orange Valery starts to collect flowers and weeds alongside the road as both men slowly walk towards the lakeside.

Valery braiding a wreath like he’s done it many times before.

Boris watching him the entire time not dating to say anything before his friend isn’t finished.

“Today is Kupala Night” Valery tells him as he turns the finished product in his hands.

The professor knows by now, Boris would never judge him but still his cheeks turn a little red as he leans over the railing, looking into the dark water.

He’s not expecting Boris to know what this little ritual is actually supposed to mean “It just reminds me of my mother..so I do it every year”

Boris does not dare to say a word. No words needed anyways. He just watches this man he has met only a few months ago but feels like knows him better than anyone else in the world.

Both watch the sun set until the sky turns a dark red and Valery trows the wreath into the lake, a deep sigh escaping his lips.

“Do you want me to jump in and get it?” Boris suddenly says watching the wreath drift away.

Valery torn from his thoughts, now looks uterly startled as if the minister had read his mind. “I didn’t expect you to know what this means..”

“I told you I was raised in a rural area, Valera”

And just for a moment they would hold hands on their way back to the hotel. Both knowing this would only be the start of something beautiful. Something neither of the two would have expected.

This place is at the lake just the street down from polissya hotel. (Pictures from street few)

Kupala night is the celebration of the summer solstice, the shortest night of the year. In western Slavic countries celebrated on 20./21. June (Gregorian calendar) and 6./7. July (Julian calendar) in Russia and Ukrain. Alongside other folkloric rites young woman tie wreaths of flowers and let them float on a river or lake and attempt to gain foresight into their romantic relationship fortune from the flow patterns of the flowers on the water. Men may attempt to capture the wreaths, in the hope of capturing the interest of the woman who floated it.

Happy Litha, my dear comrades ♥️

[alyeen1]

@litttlesilkworm said 🌹 in her wonderful post yesterday, and, oh well:

New paths

Boris almost stumbles over the rose on the floor, the tip of his right shoe caught under the stem. He picks it up, shaking his head over the inattentiveness of the person who lost it. He'll drop it in the rubbish bin in the commando suite. At least something he can clean up without obstacles.

But when he enters the room Valery looks up from the papers he's been bending over, and even though he can't see what Valery sees, he gets a damn good idea about it. There he is in one of his nicer suits, holding a long-stemmed rose and not another person in sight it could be intended for.

Valery squints at the rose, and looks back up at Boris, his one eyebrow narrowed. What is this, he seems to ask. A curiosity he's only seen on Valery's face when an unexpected development has taken place where Valery wants, no, where he needs to know what comes next.

Until he entered the room Boris knew exactly what would come next, but now he can't seem to get his feet moving over to the garbage bin. A hilarious idea has entered his mind: just give the flower to him.

He almost chokes on his thought. No! His mind has given him a few questionable suggestions since he's met Valery (like changing wardrobe and having a shower before tonight's meeting) but this is a different beast. He's not sixteen and Valery isn't his sweetheart. And he never will be if you don't do something about it.

For the first time Boris looks properly at the flower. It still has all its petals, it's color - a bright orange - unsoiled, and the stem is at least kind of even. It's not a bad flower for a gift per se. It's also very obvious.

Wouldn't anything else defeat its purpose, the nagging voice asks and suddenly Boris sees himself standing on a path that stretches endlessly into the distance on both sides. Each direction shrouded in fog in the distance but at his feet the road is clear. He just has to decide which way to go. 

"Are you planning to do something with that flower?" Valery asks finally, the soft scratch of his voice snapping him back to the room's parquet. 

It's like a push to get moving. No, he hadn't planned to give Valery a rose. Not today, not ever.

He had planned to ignore how his heart beats faster whenever Valery and himself share a private moment, he'd planned to keep his eyes glued to the man's eyes instead of his beautiful lips, and he'd definitely planned to ignore his boners that by now seem to happen automatically when Valery gets closer.

But he's never been good with plans. They derail and fail him. Or he fails them. Either way, he's always been better off to go where his impulsive heart takes him.

And tonight it's taking him through the room, right in front of Valery. He nods and holds out the rose. He doesn't know what to say, his brain miles behind his body. He doesn't know which expression to carry, he's probably looking as if he'd just eaten a whole lemon. He's just glad he's not prone to blushing because his cheeks feel as if they are on fire.

The situation definitely reminds him of his first feeble attempts to ask girls out on dates. The same prickling on his neck as he jumped into deep, unknown water.

At least Valery seems to have the same qualms, his ears have started to take on the color of the rose. If it weren't all so serious Boris would be laughing.

But there's nothing funny as Valery takes the rose carefully from his fingers and swirls it around. "Thank you," he says softly. He looks back up at Boris, and there's something new in Valery's eyes, a dark twinkle. It looks - and Boris can feel his heart starting to race again - almost like desire.

-----

Wishing y'all a good Sunday / Valentine's day 😘, all you people of the Chernobyl fandom have brought so much joy 💞. Especially in these trying times the fandom and everyone of you has been a comforting place to warm up. Immensely grateful to know you and be part of this incredible journey 💛.

@sunset-and-periwinkle @elenatria @litttlesilkworm (I actually looked up the meaning of colors of roses from your post back then 😊) @attachedtofictionalpeople @shark-from-the-park @thecolossalennui @drunkardonjunkyard @green-ann @natasharedfox @kylos-scarf @jurian-is-cinnamon-roll @kaiserrr19 @shark-from-the-park @stellan-pip-69 @ignalina-c0re @johnlockismyreligion @art-is-a-malady @antonellachan4567 @rbmk-ana @the-jewish-marxist @owlboxes @borislegasov @seaweednpeanuts @noirroseate @lyonyaonthemoon @ignalina-c0re @arionvulgaris @itisa-profoundbond-sarandom @bewareofdragon @iomhair and I'm sorry if I forgot someone 🧡🌹🧡

[thecolossalennui]

The Terror Antarctic Modern AU/Chernobyl Antarctic AU crossover where the monster/the radiation is eldritch horrors and hyperdimensional shit - another bit

“I know what you need,” Boris said, taking one last drag on his cigarette and extinguishing it in the ashtray. He put a hand on the back of Valery’s neck, eyes glittering, and led him over to a couch in the cramped room, and he stepped in front of him and sprawled out on it first.

“Room for two,” Boris said, enticing.

“I kiss that poorly, huh?” Valery muttered.

Boris beckoned him down. “You kiss like a man who has about thirty seconds before he’ll be discovered by the house prefect or the KGB. We are at the bottom of the world with twenty-two other people who have gone to bed. We could be on the moon,” he rasped. “Now, are you going to sit, or are you going to leave an old man to go to bed all alone?”

Valery sat, terrified that he was going to feel a hard cock at his back and then, actually, a bit disappointed when he didn’t. He sat, somewhat chastely, in the vee of Boris’s legs on the couch.

“Relax, Valera, I am begging you,” Boris rumbled behind him, putting his hands on Valery’s shoulders.

Valery let himself sit back, leaning hesitantly on Boris’s chest and then finally letting him take the weight, and it was outrageous how good it felt.

How long has it been, Valery?

Since last, just, touching someone for the joy of it and the simple comfort?

He didn’t know.

Boris ran his hands down Valery’s neck, first one side and then the other, exquisitely gently. Valery started at first, stiffening his spine, and Boris touched his arms, making low, soothing entreaties that he continue to relax, like he was a frightened horse. Valery smiled ruefully, submitting to the treatment, letting his eyelids fall.

Boris began to gently press his fingertips into Valery’s trapezius muscles, just making insinuating touches, not going for it like a masseur.

“I am afraid to touch you, Valera,” Boris murmured to him. “I am terrified you are going to shatter and fly in all directions.”

Valery tried to remember what a slack muscle felt like. Boris’s hands on him were wonderful, and hearing his voice and feeling the soft rumble of it in his chest was too, but Valery’s whole body was clenched like a fist, and he couldn’t remember it ever not being so.

“You are breaking my heart,” Boris whispered, working gently on Valery’s muscles. Valery didn’t react; it had the cadence of a prayer. “Who are you waiting for, this tense, this ready? Like a runner at the starting line.” Boris kissed Valery’s neck and slipped his arms around Valery’s chest, holding him tight. “They are not here, Valera. They cannot find you. You are safe.”

Valery realized he was weeping. “What did you…?” He pulled off his glasses to press the heel of his hand into the offending eyes and rub away the tears. Boris loosened his hold, but Valery didn’t get up. He sat back again and laced his fingers with Boris’s. Boris dipped his head, pressed it to the side of Valery’s neck.

“I, too, was a ready man,” Boris murmured at length. “Big man, tall, ready to make sure anyone who challenged me went down and remembered. You get old, and you get tired of protecting yourself, knowing who your enemies in the room are so you can strike first. You, Valera, you are not a small man, but you make yourself small to escape notice. Different strategy, same goal. And you came to Pole to make the setting match that loneliness you feel. You can be alone and have it not be your fault, for once.”

Valery drew a long, shuddering breath. “You too, huh?”

“Me, too.” Boris kissed his neck again. “Would you like to be lonely together, for a little while, Valery Alekseyevich?”

Valery sat up and turned to face Boris, looking into his blue eyes as Boris regarded him with painful fondness.

“I’m not lonely when I’m with you, Borya,” Valery murmured, and kissed him like a man who had all the time in the world.

[arionvulgaris]

"BuT wHaT WerE yOu WeAriNg?"

[hiboudecheshire]

My THG!AU continues and now I can add the tag “pre-slash” on it, lol :D I’m still surprised how well it works - story of one canon inside of the setting of another. What will we see next? Who knows... ;)

[corn-fanfiction]

Barker (Valery Legasov x Reader) pt 1

You know what? Fuck you *throws yearning and unspoken feelings at you along with graphite from an exposed reactor core*

There's something really weird abt writing a (albiet fictionalized) real historical figure bc I find the actor hot buuuuuut who cares we ball anyway. Fic under cut.

It began with you, Boris, and Valery sitting anxiously in Boris' suite. The three of you sat at perfect opposites around the two phones on the center table, watching, waiting. At first, Boris tried to lighten the mood with some quips as he was known to do, and Legasov would humor them with small smiles, but you had eyes only for the phones. You were practically chewing through cigarettes; you never smoked before you came to Pripyat. You personally thought that it was unbecoming of a scientist, and found it ironic to inhale one dangerous chemical whilst studying another. But then, you were all likely in for a worse fate than lung cancer.

After hours, Boris stalked downstairs to the bar to soothe his soul with vodka, leaving you and the professor. You bounced your leg, wiped your eyes, smoked, took your glasses off only to put them back on, and flipped through packets of notes and findings. All the while, Valery watched you try to distract yourself with a half-broken heart. Everything about Chernobyl was tragic, and it was nearly impossible to pit one tragedy against the other. Valery would never forget the look on Boris' face when he told him about their new life expectancy. It was so childlike in its unfiltered shock that it caused him physical pain. But you- you hardly flinched. Khomyuk had commented once that you were hardheaded and that's why no one could prevent you from following her into the fray, so it made sense to her that you would accept your fate. But you were younger than them, being an assistant studying under Khomyuk at the Institute. Older than some of the men working the reactor that fateful night, but still too young for what little life you'd have left.

But then, at what age is the tragedy of it all cut?

Hours after those hours later, after Boris had returned and retired to bed, Valery still waited by the phones, smoking, almost standing guard. He looked an absolute wreck and couldn't remember the last time he'd looked in a mirror. And you looked about the same. You'd fallen asleep on the other couch, and it must have been a good sleep because you didn't move once. Your hair and clothes were messed from the ultimate position you took to stay comfortable. Valery had thought at many different intervals to wake you but could not bring himself to do so.

There was something about you that fascinated him. Perhaps it was the academic in him, but you were an enigma in many ways. Deeply likeable and charming whilst keeping your true self guarded impenetrably. No one knew anything about your life except Khomyuk, and she barely knew anything worth telling. It wasn't until he saw you completely vulnerable on the couch that Valery considered himself to see you in earnest. A brave soul, like them, too young for it all, like everyone else, rushing in headfirst even though no one asked you to; only you and Khomyuk had that in common. Maybe that's why you seemed so different. Even Khomyuk was serving out of a sense of scientific duty. Maybe you were too; either way, it bothered Valery.

He took a final drag off his dying cigarette and stubbed it out, then looked at the clock on the wall above you. Three thirty-six in the morning. He removed his glasses and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. You all weren't going to hear from Khomyuk tonight. He'd known it hours ago, but he didn't want to leave until you did. But since he was the only one awake anymore, he decided to call it off.

Valery stood and went to where you lay on the couch. He laid a gentle hand on your shoulder to wake you, and in an instant you sat up. Even half awake, you tried to be active and alert. When you found your glasses on the coffee table you put them on and looked up at Valery.

"Khomyuk?" Was all you asked. He shook his head.

"We're not going to hear anything tonight, Comrade. I suggest you get some sleep before the committee meeting tomorrow."

You groaned and lay your head back down.

"I was sleeping."

Valery crosses to shrug on his suit jacket.

"I meant in a bed."

Except you didn't want to go back to your room because you hated being alone. Maybe that's one of the reasons you chased Khomyuk to this desolate place. You wanted to help, of course, but what was worse was sitting at the Institute without her. Unbearable. You sat up again and stretched.

"It's too quiet here."

You stand and put on your own coat. You wipe your face of any wayward drool as Valery opens the suite door for you and you both exit.

"The entire city is deserted," he said as if you didn't know. It was his nature to respond with the truth of things even if it was obvious. It saved him from the awkward dance of clever turn of phrase and hidden meanings.

"I can't sleep in quiet."

You, Boris, Valery, and Khomyuk all stayed on the same floor of the hotel, albiet at random rooms since the hotel was relatively full when you'd come to stay, and even now that Pripyat was empty as he'd said, no one bothered changing rooms.

"I don't think I could go back to sleep anyway," you continued and Valery eyed you with interest. This was the most you'd ever spoken unprompted.

"We have to be at the Kremlin at ten."

"I just need some fresh air."

Valery stopped you both in the hallway. Even at this very late hour, he was paranoid about prying eyes and keen ears.

"I'm not sure it's the best of ideas to go stalking around outside right now."

"Just around the fountain."

"By yourself? And if you encounter agents?"

"I'll invite them to walk with me."

"Be serious."

"I am." And you were. Your face hardened at his buried accusation that you were being flippant. "I can't just lie down and stare at the ceiling. At least I can exert some of the anxiety. I appreciate your concern, but I don't believe I'll be arrested for taking the night air."

But even that was a lie because you knew, as you all knew, that any of you were a hair's breadth away from intense scrutiny under the watchful eye of the KGB. While yes, you doubted arrest, to be accosted was not out of the question.

"Then do you mind if I accompany you?" He asked. He was tired, he wanted to go to sleep, but more than that he did not want you to go out there alone. It suited level headed people to be paranoid in times like these, and he'd happily double or triple that paranoia if it kept his friends safe.

You nodded mutely and changed directions for the stairs. Once outside, you lit another cigarette and offered it to Valery, who accepted. Some of the stray dogs trotted beside the two of you. They were some of the saddest parts of it all, after the unspeakable human suffering. Alone, abandoned, left to fend for themselves. Even then, months later, it was becoming painfully apparent that they were starving, dirty and mangey. Still, you offered them some comfort where you could, such as during this walk, when you bent down occasionally to scratch them behind their ears.

It was a cloudy and starless night but the streetlamps remained as they always had, offering an illuminated glow every few meters. At some point, you glanced over at Valery. You'd made notice early on how he carried himself. He always looked at the ground, always took a submissive tone in conversation, except when it came to Boris. With Boris, he challenged. You weren't sure why, but you still hardly knew them despite the long hours and close quarters.

He looked especially tired, more than usual. You hadn't considered that he took as much a toll from Khomyuk's silence as you did. There had formed a strange sort of comradery between the four of you, teetering on friendship but never truly stepping over that line. At least not around one another.

But you were as impressed with Valery as you were Boris and Khomyuk. He was called to this as Boris was, but he also faced it head on as you all did. A quiet, diminutive man, one who naturally avoided conflict, he still managed to fight for the things he knew he needed to, even if he was powerless to do so.

And when you weren't looking, Valery was glancing at you, thinking all the things he'd thought when you were asleep, only now he was considering why you didn't want to go to sleep. Surely passing the time would end in finding Khomyuk sooner, wouldn't it?

"How are you feeling? About tomorrow?" He asked after a long period of silence. You ran a hand through your hair and Valery watched.

"Useless. I hate waiting outside in that hallway."

You were referring to the Kremlin and how you weren't allowed at committee meetings. It had been a struggle enough to get Khomyuk in that room that nobody much bothered with you. You understood, you didn't take personal offense, but you still hated being in that hallway.

"I doubt it will take long. Not that I know much going in."

"What is he like?"

Valery quirks up an eyebrow at you question. "Who?"

"The Secretary General. I've heard him speak on television and the radio, but what is he like in the room?"

Again, Valery took in the surrounding area.

"I'm not sure-"

"You're right. Sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

You shook the idea from you head and pet another stray as it came up beside you.

"Can I ask you a question, Comrade?" Valery asked rather suddenly, his hoarse voice catching in the cold air. You let your silence speak an affirmative. "What brought you here? Besides knowing Khomyuk. None of the public even knew about the accident until recently and none of them know the true severity. Khomyuk knew almost immediately and that's why she came. Why did you follow?"

You slowed and Valery matched your pace. You took a drag from the half forgotten cigarette. For a brief moment, you acknowledge that your lips and his have shared purchase on the thin paper and you suddenly blush. Thankfully, for the cold, it was unnoticeable.

"I've always been like these dogs. Ever since I was little. I find someone and I follow them around. Even if someone is mean and kicks, I'll still follow until I find someone nicer. Khomyuk was nicer. I felt I had to come with her. She has another assistant and he's more than capable of keeping the department going." You take another smoke. "I didn't want to be there without her."

He watched you as you gave your confession. You compared yourself to a dog and he was having a difficult time moving past that. It brought to mind Laika from decades before. He thought suddenly about a different time and reality altogether where he was in a position to give you a nickname, and he thought Laika would be suitable. He quickly shook that thought away.

"Noble," he said finally, though he didn't fully believe it. You laughed.

"Hardly. Stupid, truly. I'll run into anything if it means..." You stopped yourself because, for the first time, you were about to divulge a part of yourself to one of your colleagues here. Not even Khomyuk knew of your deepest insecurities. "Dogs run after their owners."

Valery wanted so badly to force the dog metaphor away with reassurances, but he didn't, because he didn't know how. He wanted to place a comforting hand on you but he didn't know how you would react. He wanted to say and do a great many things, but he couldn't, so he settled for continuing the walk with you in darkness.

[johnlockismyreligion]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Chernobyl (TV 2019) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Valery Legasov/Boris Shcherbina, Valery Legasov & Boris Shcherbina Characters: Valery Legasov, Boris Shcherbina Additional Tags: Night Terrors, Nightmares, Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Made For Each Other, Kissing, Sex, Gay Sex, Frottage, Wall Sex, Porn with Feelings, Spit As Lube, Come as Lube Summary:

While they are in Chernobyl busy with clean-up operations, the nights of Valery and Boris are tormented creepy nightmares, and it is thanks to these nightmares that both will notice that they need each other, they will also discover that they love each other, thanks to the abandoned kitchen of the hotel Polissya where the kbg has not placed any microphones. Fanfiction connected to this fanart by Elenatria Translated by @Hotaru_Tomoe

[puffle-fuzz]

My first ever Chernobyl fanfic. I hope you guys enjoy?

[sad-lad-posts]

What if Valery was Ulanas lover from when they were young and they got separated and they both moved on in their lives? And Chernobyl was what brought them back together? 🤯