#negative scanning services | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inlovewithgreta · 1 year ago

Text

Bratty Behavior - Addison Montgomery x Fem!Reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Synopsis: After giving Addison attitude all day, she comes up with a plan so it never happens again.

Warnings: dom!addy, brat!reader, mommy kink, spanking, pussy slapping, fingering, choking, degradation kink, praise kink, voyeurism, thigh riding, and I think that's it??

Word Count: 4.4k

A/n: this honestly took me forever to write but I’m lowkey happy with how it turned out! thank you for being patient with my slow writing but I have plenty of wips I can start pushing forward that I can’t wait to share with y’all!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"...and Y/l/n, you're with Montgomery. Special request." Bailey stated, after assigning you and the rest of your fellow interns to the Attending you'd each be helping out for the day.

You let out a sigh of relief, glad to be on Addison's service. The two of you had kept your 'relationship' private. Well at least you considered it one, as you two were only seeing each other and had spent numerous hours in each other's arms in bed any chance you could get. You two only had eyes for each other, and you were ready to come out to the Chief, but Addison on the other hand wasn't, and she never told you why.

You were happy to be working on the Pediatric floor for the day, as the vibe was more uplifting and calming compared to any other floor of the hospital. Work went as it usually did, you checked up on patients, ran labs, and did everything you were supposed to do, and did it the most efficient way you could. To any doctor, they should be thrilled they had an intern who did what they were told, and did it well. But nobody seemed to notice, not even Addison.

As today was hectic, Addison started piling you with work that had quickly turned your mood sour when you had multiple patients getting that had forced you to change your scrubs on numerous occasions while Addison completely disregarded you. She barely even glanced in your direction when you called out to her as she walked past you, which only fueled your negative mood.

"Seriously?" You called out, turning on your feet to face Addison who now turned to face you at the raise of your voice.

"What is it, Y/l/n? I have things to do." The redhead crossed her arms.

"Addison, I called out to you and you straight up ignored me."

"Dr. Montgomery," She simply stated.

"W-what?" You asked, with a confused face.

"It's Dr. Montgomery to you, Y/l/n. In case you forgot, we are at work, and I am your boss."

"In case you forgot, I have your patients lab results, along with their scans that you need to check out. I've never seen anything like it before."

Addison's tongue swiped at her upper teeth at the sass you were giving her, along with backtalk that you had never used with her before, and she didn't like it. The redhead had to hold her composure, snatching the labs from your hands and running her eyes over the pages.

"Schedule her for surgery, we need to take care of this now."

"Can I scrub in?" You hopefully asked.

"No."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Why not? Dr. Montgomery, I've been running around doing her labs all day–"

"You haven't earned it," she stated. "Now go schedule the surgery."

"But–"

Addison cut you off with a finger to your lips as she took a threatening step closer, her body only mere inches from yours. Heat radiated off her body as she let out a small huff.

"No buts, you're talking back, you're sassy, and you're being a brat. Tell me why I should let you in on this surgery when you have an attitude."

You slightly rolled your eyes, annoyed that you had put in the work but didn't get the reward for it, and didn't even get the chance to speak with her finger blocking your lips from moving. In this moment, you didn't care about the eye roll, but for Addison, it only added fuel to the fire you would have to deal with later.

"That's what I thought, now go." She forced the labs back into your hands with a stern expression.

You huffed and did as you were told, unaware of the fact that Addison was now thinking of a way to knock the sassiness out of you. Normally, just her stern look alone would have you on your knees in submission, but today was different. You were being a brat, and Addison was not about to let you get away with it.

Hours later, as Addison was making her way to your locker room, Mark pulled Addison aside and claimed that you were being sassy towards him all day, but Mark being Mark, he was enjoying this new side of you. After he filled her in, her trimmed brows couldn't help but raise as she licked her lips, excusing herself to drag you immediately home.

The ride home was quiet, with you just staring out the window and Addison watching the road. After work, you had mainly found yourself at her place, it immediately became a routine that you would stay with her on days you weren't on call. As you entered the house, Addison's gaze never left your back as she noted the way you threw your bag on the floor, and the way you didn't hesitate to nearly rip your clothes off to rid yourself of your dirty work clothes.

"What's with the attitude today, hmm?" She questioned, making her way over to you after setting her own stuff aside.

"I don't have an attitude, Addy." You huffed when she blocked you from leaving the bedroom.

She nodded her head and puckered her red stained lips, knowing you weren't going to admit it with the bratty behavior you've had all day.

"Fine, get on the bed."

"What?"

She took a step closer, her slightly taller figure looming over you as her gaze turned dark with desire.

"Get on the bed."

"Addy, I'm not–" You went to talk back, but before you could, Addison lifted your face with a slender finger under your chin, closing your mouth in the process, while her nail ever so slightly dug into your sensitive skin.

"I'm going to fuck this attitude out of you until my little princess decides to rejoin me." She sternly stated, slowly guiding you back towards the bed. "Now sit."

You felt your knees hit the back of the bed, and they couldn't help but buckle at her words. Your nearly bare ass met with the soft duvet behind you as Addison couldn't help the wicked smirk that formed along her reddened lips at you listening to her command.

"See, it's not that hard to be good for me, now is it?"

The rose colored blush that crept onto your cheeks didn't go unnoticed by the redhead as she towered over you.

"But you haven't been good, have you?"

When you don't answer her immediately, Addison grabs your face, fingers digging into your flushed cheeks with a stern grip as she lowers her face down to yours.

"Have you?"

"No–" You whimpered.

"That's right, you haven't. You've been sassy and bratty towards me all day, and for what? Was mommy not giving you enough attention?" She let her bottom lip fall in a fake pout, lowering herself even closer so her lips just barely grazed yours. "Well it looks now like you have to wait even longer.." She smirked before standing back up straight, a small whine escaping past your lips as she moved herself backwards.

"But–"

"You see, good girls get rewarded when they prove just how good they really are. However, you've been bad, and deserve to be punished for the way you acted today, which leads me to have to make some crucial decisions." Her hands slipped behind her back, gliding the zipper down her back to let her dark dress fall smoothly to the floor. She left herself in her maroon undergarments that complimented her silky skin perfectly.

She had moved the small chair from the corner of the room to just a few feet in front of you before sitting herself down, with dark eyes trained solely on you. She looked elegant in her seated position. You couldn't tear your eyes off her, and you desperately wanted to touch her, but when you lifted a hand, Addison swatted it away.

"Tsk tsk," she shook her head in disapproval.

"Addy, please–"

"Begging already? Such a pathetic little slut.." Addison slowly opened her legs, revealing the dampened patch along her lace thong. "You craved my attention so bad, yet when I gave it to you, I got a brat in return. So, bend over my lap."

"W-what? Why?"

"For the first part of your punishment of course. Now come."

You shakily stood to your feet as you did what you were told, Addison wasting no time in pulling you across her lap with your ass lifted into the air. Without warning, a sharp smack to your cheek had you cry out at the sudden flash of pain until she used her hand to soothe the small ache.

"For each spank, I want you to apologize. I want to hear how sorry you are for being a bad girl today. Can you do that for me?"

You nodded your head, which only caused Addison to send her hand flying back down to your bottom.

"Use your words."

"Y-yes, mommy! I can do it!" You whimpered out as you adjusted your body to be more comfortable, unsure of how long you would be left like this.

"That's all I needed to hear.."

Her palm hit your ass with a sharp smack, almost surging you forward that had you holding yourself as steady as you could.

"I'm so sorry, mommy! I just wanted you so bad.."

Another smack, to the opposite cheek this time.

"Please, I'll be so good for you!"

Her hand smoothed down her next spot of choice before the next slap to your ass left a reddened spot along your bare skin.

"I-I won't be a brat anymore. I'll be your good girl. No more sas, I swear! I'm sorry!"

After Addison gave your ass a red tint, she let up her harshness, but she still wasn't satisfied with your begging. Her eyes glanced between your legs, noticing a prominent wet patch against your lace panties. She didn't think you'd be turned on as much as you were with this punishment, but she sure was glad you were, which only made her not want to stop just yet, forcing her hand down again with another smack.

"What are you sorry for?" She deliberately questioned, curious if you would apologize for every action.

"I'm sorry for talking back to you at work, and for being sassy towards you and everyone else all day. I won't do it again!"

Her hand forced its way down, smacking your ass cheek one last time before easing you to your feet. Your legs were shaking as you stood, face completely flushed, and eyes so dilated that Addison could barely see any color left.

"Not good enough. Sit back down."

You whined, but did as you were told, Addison eyeing your shaky legs with a heavy smirk. As you sat back down, you couldn't help but wince at the pain that shot up your spine from the soreness that now covered your ass. Eyes prickled with tears as you forced yourself to sit through the pain.

"My bad little slut forgot one very important detail in that apology, which I find to be the most naughty action of all.."

Your eyebrows knitted as you ran your head through the day, unsure of what you did that you could have possibly forgotten to apologize for. Addison spreading her legs in the chair tore your thoughts away as she slid a hand down her chest. Your mouth fell agape as she cupped her covered pussy with a quiet moan.

"Since you seemed to forget what it was.. You rolled your eyes at me, remember that?"

Your eyes widened when you knew exactly what she was talking about. You had never rolled your eyes at her before, and now you were about to get punished once again for being a brat towards the redhead who had started playing with herself through her wet fabric.

"I-I didn't mean to.."

"Oh, but you so did," she toyed with you, fingers moving her panties to the side to reveal her glistening pussy coated in her arousal. Your mouth watered at the sight, her legs spread wide open with her fingers gliding along her folds. She knew you were already wet, and she could only imagine how soaked you were at the fact that she was playing with herself right in front of you.

You couldn't help but squeeze your thighs together when the redhead let out her first moan as she easily slid two fingers past her entrance. She had only just started and you were already in dire need to touch her. It took everything in you not to move from your seat, as it would only make things worse for you. So you sat, and watched as Addison's mouth fell agape while sinful moans filled your ears.

"Mmm, you look so pretty sitting over there, it's a shame..."

Addison's free hand found her tit, pushing the thin lace out of the way for her fingers to pull at her nipple. You couldn't help but let out a small whine when Addison picked up her pace, the wetness between her thighs mixing with her moans was almost too much for you to handle. You were aching to do more than just sit and watch, but Addison took pleasure in watching you squirm.

"Addy please," your fingers grasped at the duvet below you to keep you from pouncing at her. "Let me help you. I want you so bad.."

The redhead casually ignored your plea as she played with her pussy, fingers easing out of her to rub her clit. Her hips just slightly bucked at the new sensation, feeling herself growing closer to her release.

"Mommy... I'm your good girl, please. I won't roll my eyes anymore. I won't be sassy. Just please- please let me taste you."

Addison wanted to make you wait longer, but the knot in her abdomen and the fact that you were being good, had her rethinking her decision. She loved the way you made her feel, the way you would treat her like a queen, and make her body fall apart with your skillful tongue.

"Fuck, come here.." she growled, you instantly falling to your knees to sit face to face with her dripping cunt. You didn't waste a second to bring your mouth to her core, lapping up the sweet juices along her folds before devouring her.

"You taste so good, mommy." You slightly pulled away to meet her gaze with your compliment.

Her manicured nails grabbed at your hair, wrapping her fingers lazily around your strands and pulled you back to her cunt. She desperately needed your mouth on her, tasting her, and fucking her until she came along your tongue.

Your hands grabbed at her inner thighs, forcing her legs to remain open, nails slightly digging into her smooth skin to leave crescent marks in their wake.

"Faster, princess.." You listened to her instantaneously, the consistency of her moans picking up letting you know you were doing it right. "Just like that! Fuck, I'm so close, don't stop."

You couldn't help but take in the sight before you, Addison's messy curls cascading over her face as her gaze was looking at you and only you, her free hand that continued to pull and twist at her nipple, and her perfectly toned stomach that rose and fell quickly as you felt her tighten around you.

"So close.." She hummed.

She bit her bottom lip in anticipation, feeling herself getting worked up to the point where she was about to be in shambles. Her hand gripped your hair tightly, guiding the movement of your head to help her reach that peak she was desperately chasing after.

Addison's eyes rolled to the back of her head, her vision going dark as she came with a hearty moan. Her hips threatened to buck from sensitivity, but your hands firmly held them still as you helped the redhead ride out her high for as long as possible. Addison whispered a plethora of expletives as you lapped up her release, taking your time in relishing the moment to lick her clean of her orgasm.

"You taste so good, mommy." You purred.

Addison let out a heavy sigh of relief as she caught her breath. You winced slightly as she pulled you up by your hair, fixing her position in the chair to pull you on top of her to straddle her waist. Her plump lips engulfed yours in a heated kiss, the woman humming at the taste of herself along your tongue.

Her slender fingers delicately slid from your hair to roam your body, fingernails skimming over your chest to continue their path down the curvature of your body to reach the spot she was wanting the most.

You gasped into the kiss at the sound of fabric ripping, Addison not bothering to slide the garment down your legs, but instead ripped it off your body to give her access to your center. The cool air hitting your dampened cunt sent a chill up your spine, eliciting a small shiver from you. Her fingers dipped between your thighs, and your hips couldn't help but surge forward, begging for fingers to fill you.

A whine left your lips, forcing you to break from the kiss when Addison slapped your cunt, sending a wave of pleasurable shock throughout your body. "You didn't think I'd give in that easily, now did you?" She teased with a heavy smirk.

Your bottom lip formed into a small pout. All you wanted was for her to relieve you of the tension you've been building while watching the woman pleasure herself.

"What's wrong, little one? Is mommy not giving you what you want?"

You shook your head no as you lowered your gaze from hers, only fueling Addison to send another sharp smack to your cunt, this time hitting just the right spot that caused a small moan to escape past your parted lips.

A firm hand wrapping around your throat, just barely below your jawline forced your gaze back to the darkened eyes of Addison.

"Words. Use your words."

"I'm sorry, mommy."

Another slap to your pussy had your back arching at a deeper angle, pushing your breasts further towards the redhead. The hand around your throat squeezed ever so slightly tighter.

"God, I love hearing you beg. That sweet innocent little voice of yours begging for mommy's touch. Isn't that right, baby? You want me to touch you?"

"Fuck—" you nearly choked out, desperately in need of her. "Yes, please.." you begged, "Please touch me, mommy. Fill me with your fingers. Fuck me until I'm a shaking little mess."

"That can be arranged, sweet thing. Will you start being good for me?" Addison had pulled you in by your neck to engulf you in a heated kiss. A squeeze to your neck opened your mouth with a moan that allowed the woman access to slip her tongue into your mouth.

You mumbled into the kiss in response to her question, Addison not able to make out what you said but knowing you, that was a yes. She took it upon herself to not slap your cunt this time, but to run her fingers along your soaked folds dripping with arousal.

Your hips moved, in desperate need of more than just her small touch. Addison was messy with the kiss, leaving her stained lipstick across your own lips and across your jawline and she kissed her way across your face.

"Fuck me, please.." you begged, tilting your head to the side to allow Addison more access to your flesh. Her free hand gripped at your jaw, holding your head steadily to the side to keep you still as she marked her territory.

She smirked into your neck, two fingers sliding easily past your entrance. Your moans started off more quiet and inconsistent, gradually growing as Addison's fingers worked a steady pace between your thighs.

"That feels so good," your fingers raked through her messy curls, pushing away the few strands that fell in her face.

She sucked and nibbled across your bare neck, leaving fresh love bites in their wake as she marked you across your neck as much as she could.

The redhead made her way down your neck, placing bites along your collarbone. Her fingers curled delicately, hitting the soft spongy spot that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"Mmm," you moaned out, grinding your hips with the movements of her fingers.

"Oh, I see," she purred, "You want to ride mommy's fingers, don't you sweet thing?"

"Yes, god yes! Please..."

The hand around your neck left to skim down your body to rest along the curve of your hip, guiding your body down as she rested her other hand to allow you to take control.

"Go ahead, baby."

Your hips jolted forward, eager to ride the fingers that curved deliciously inside you. Arousal dripped down her slender fingers, Addison gripping at your hip to keep you steady.

Your clit slid against her palm, only adding to the pleasure you were receiving from the woman beneath you. Fingers curled in her maroon locks as she found your chest, placing small kisses along the upper swell of your breast.

"Fuck, you feel so good inside me," you moaned out.

Her tongue flicked against your nipple, swirling around the hardened bud in a slow and skillful manner. Her lust-filled eyes glanced up at you as she pulled your tit in her mouth.

Your hips grew frantic with each passing second, eagerly chasing the orgasm you have been not-so-patiently waiting for.

"God, that feels so good!"

Her teeth grazed your nipple, sending a shiver down your spine. Your pace was desperate, and Addison's grip along your hip tightened, nails gently digging into your skin.

"You're so close, baby. I can feel it. Come around mommy's fingers like my good girl."

Your pace was relentless, fingers pulling Addison's hair gently as you chased your first orgasm.

"Fuck— I'm gonna—"

Addison's lips met with yours in a short but sweet kiss, your breathing momentarily stopping as your orgasm ripped through you. The redhead cooed and talked you through your first high as she kept her fingers still beneath you as your riding slowed down.

She sent small kisses along your cheek and jawline, surprised that your pace never faltered, yet began to pick up again once you came down from your high and chased after another.

Your hand dipped between your legs, taking her hand from your cunt so you can lower yourself down on her thigh. You didn't let go of her hand, but instead swiped your tongue along her slender fingers before dipping them inside your mouth.

"Such a needy little thing.."

Addison's gaze grew dark, watching intently as you sucked your orgasm from her fingers. You couldn't help but hum and moan as your slick pussy slid across her thigh with ease.

The friction gave you the pleasure you were looking for, your gaze not leaving hers as you sucked her fingers clean and let them go with a small ‘pop’.

She went to move her hand but you guided it back to your throat, wanting her to keep some kind of control over you. Her eyes flicked to your lips as you let out a deep moan when her fingers tightened around your throat.

Your breathing was heavy, hips grinding against the thickness of her thigh that had you a moaning mess. Addison felt herself growing wetter at your sounds. Your growing moans were heaven to her, and she loved hearing those sinful sounds coming from beyond your lips.

“Do you want to come, baby?”

“Mhm..” you nodded your head frantically, juices sliding down Addison’s thigh as you grind against her.

“Then come for me. Come along mommy’s thighs. Let me see that pretty face of yours as you unravel in front of me.”

You bit your bottom lip, trying to suppress the needy moans that were threatening to grow louder as you felt the familiar pit in your stomach.

Your orgasm ripped through you, legs quickly beginning to shake around Addison’s thigh as your hips continued to move back and forth as you rode out your high for as long as possible.

Addison wanted to savor this moment, eyes memorizing every feature and gesture you made as you came. She admired your face, the way your eyebrows were knitted tightly, cheeks completely flushed, and lips spread wide open as you moaned out.

You had to reposition yourself, allowing your legs to tightly close as your head fell in the nape of Addison’s neck. Your breathing was fast and heavy, small whines leaving your lips as you pressed your thighs tightly together.

“You did so good for me, princess.”

Addison kissed the top of your head, hand soothingly running up and down your back as you attempted to catch your breath.

It took you a few minutes to return back to normal, but your shaky legs hadn’t gone away, knowing they would be like jello if you tried to stand.

Exhaustion was quick to find you, the long day and multiple orgasms hitting you like a truck. The small yawn you involuntarily let out alerted Addison of your exhaustion. Her hand dipped to your chin, lifting your face so she could get a look at you.

Your eyes were freshly glazed over and it was clear you were done for the day.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed, baby. Does that sound good?”

You nodded your head with a small smile, Addison pressing her plump lips against yours in a sweet and tender kiss. She lifted you up, carrying you in her arms to your side of the bed to set you down gently.

She gave you a quick peck to your forehead as she left for the bathroom, tidying herself up, and getting out a fresh rag to clean you up. As she returned, she couldn't help but playfully roll her eyes with a massive smile that spread across her face when she saw you with your eyes closed and now on her side of the bed.

Addison couldn't help but laugh to herself that she was actually successful with fucking the attitude out of you.

She was gentle and careful with cleaning you, before settling herself in the bed behind you, pulling you flush against her chest as she got herself comfortable to sleep the night away with you in her arms.

#addison montgomery #addison montgomery x reader #fanfic #smut #lesbiansmut #wlw smut #oneshot #greys anatomy

1K notes · View notes

where-dreamers-go · 7 months ago

Note

I love your Dbh Connor writing 😍 can you please write something (if you'd like) in his pov of him realizing he *feels* for the reader, though he'd likely not know what that entails and what to call it. Just something introspective exploring his inner logic when it comes to his newfound deviancy? Thanks so much ❤️ I hope life treats you well!

“Feelings And Deviancy” Rk800 Connor x Reader

(A/N: Awh! I’m glad you’re enjoying them. Here’s a little something where Connor finds himself in a new routine with feelings he can’t pinpoint just yet. Warnings: Use of (Y/N) for your name. Word Count: 1,072 words)

Detroit held much to be discovered, especially when living was a new concept.

No more demonstrations or frantic humans in the streets.

It was almost quieter.

Connor took up walking to explore the city upon his deviancy. To rediscover the world.

Androids and humans were coexisting again. Nothing was perfect. Never was.

On one of his walking routes he had noticed a change. More life in a small bookstore beside an always popular coffee shop. The display window no longer appeared as a physical advertisement or thumbnail. No longer the attention-seeking images. Lined, stacked, and decorated with air plants were books. Physical books. Yes, there were always tablets for sale, but the display was not leveled. Nothing about it was symmetrical.

He was compelled to enter.

That was two months and two days ago.

Blinking, Connor found himself there again. The colorful bookshop in the shadow of quick service caffeine. He stood in front of the display. New books had been added, angled to show their spines, designed in detail to allude to the story’s tone.

Spying movement from inside, Connor moved to open the door and entered.

Familiar bookcases remained in their usual placements. Each shelf neatly arranged with books categorized by genre, author, and title. The usual.

I wouldn’t expect anything less.

Connor urged himself to search by sight and not scan. To take his time was a skill in need of practicing.

Light display flickering to yellow, he stepped further into the shop. He wasn’t alone inside. Towards the back, a couple of older individuals could be heard in hushed tones. They were regulars, almost every Friday.

He’s probably holding a stack of books for her again.

Connor found himself doing the same; visiting every Wednesday and Friday. Creating another routine.

What interest could a deviated android have in a bookshop?

Connor pondered on that question each day. Every time he would picture you instead of a simple answer. A connection to books, stories, and knowledge. The person responsible for decorating the shop’s window.

He found a particular interest in you, one of the shop’s employees. It started the first day you greeted him with your friendly smile and had yet to be stored away.

“Connor, hi.” Stepping around a table display, you waved to him while balancing three volumes in your other hand.

“Hello (Y/N).” He smiled, feeling something akin to happiness.

“How are you?”

Opening his mouth, ready to respond, Connor said nothing.

What was a truthful answer?

Connor sure wanted to know.

I am functioning properly, Connor thought. I’m not feeling any negative emotions. But they don’t want to hear that.

“I’m well.” He answered. “Thank you for asking.”

“No problem. I’m glad you’re well.”

At your smile, Connor took notice of his thirium pump increasing its speed. Something he was trying to look into over the past few weeks.

“How are you? Do you need help with anything?”

You laughed lightly and shook your head. “I’m pretty good.” Stepping over to the main counter, you added, “I can handle a few books. Just double checking these are in shelves too. Someone’s doing a pickup later. But thank you for asking. Again.” You sent him a teasing smile.

“Oh.” Connor stood still beside the counter, eyes downcast.

Embarrassment, he knew that emotion. Connor knew how it felt and it wasn’t his favorite. Feeling it while around you made him want to reset his system.

Do I ask to help them every time I’m here? Connor thought back to previous encounters and his embarrassment grew. I’m being polite. He urged himself to be more neutral with the fact of him wanting to help you.

Why wouldn’t he want to help you?

You were kind, had a good work ethic, and you made time to talk with him.

Connor appreciated you.

He appreciated other too, but he didn’t find himself trying to consistently learn their interests. That happened when he was with you, asking you handfuls of questions.

The more Connor learned about you, the more he could talk to you. Information one could not find online or in databases. Time one could not simulate.

“So what brings you here today, mister questions?” You inquired as you walked around the counter. Pulling out a tote bag, you placed the books inside one by one.

The corners of Connor’s lips lifted. A jolt of something registered through him. Not physical. An emotion that made him want to remain standing in your presence and perhaps hear you give him another nickname.

“I was wondering…”

You hummed shortly, letting him know you were listening.

“If there was a book you think I should read.”

Your eyes lit up in joyous surprise. “A million times yes.” You rushed out from around the counter and headed between a row of bookshelves.

Connor followed after you without hesitation.

“I don’t think I can just pick one,” you stated with two books in hand already. “So you have some options.”

“That’s great. Thank you.”

You sent him a smile over your shoulder. Then you resumed scanning the shelves, not wanting to miss a book you had in mind for him.

Knowing you already had options for him made Connor smile endlessly.

You thought of him.

They’re thorough. Connor thought as he got lost in watching you search.

Connor had never been around someone who he felt such a variety of emotions for. Deviancy hadn’t lasted long enough for him to name them all.

How could he?

The situation and environments he found himself in was calm and new. Full of books, unique displays, and people going about their business. Seeing you had become a constant. Something he could count on even if each time would be different, lively.

Connor did not have anything in his past to compare his present to.

If I had more context, he thought, I could figure out what I should be doing. I like their company. I know that, but big deal. That doesn’t tell me what to do about besides visiting them twice a week. But…I do like being with them.

Slightly frustrated with himself, he made sure to keep it to himself.

So, Connor remained standing, keeping you company during your shift, and making you laugh. Soon three books purchased and all his own.

What would come from him having feelings for you?

Connor hoped he would find out in his new way in life.

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Detroit Become Human Tags: @shewhobreathesfire @

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

#dbh connor x reader #connor x reader #dbh connor #dbh fanfiction #dbh rk800 #rk800 x reader #requested #where dreamers go #detroit become human

163 notes · View notes

pygmi-cygni · 3 months ago

Text

T Minus Ten

remember that miguel fic I talked about....

here she is!!!!

series warning: eventual smut (light), angst, pining, lovesickness, adorable migs, enemies (?) to lovers, more like emotionally repressed to infatuated, angst, miscommunication, as many tropes as I can possibly manage

warnings for this chapter: lots of exposition, medical inaccuracies, introduction basically, canon violence

miguel o'hara x reader (afab) no description other than reader is v strong and has some small tattoos on hands (important later i swear)

enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

The medical field was essentially obsolete in the Spiderverse. It takes hundreds of years to name a disease, let alone cure it, and then to add in the factors of different biology, different gravitational boundaries, bacterial possibilities....you honestly just felt like hanging up your lab coat and starting an Etsy.

Each branch of the Multiverse was grouped in the extensive medbay located in HQ. The branches with the most similar biology and treatment varieties were closest together. Every spider was given their hall number that had any resources they'd need depending on their genetic makeup.

It was tough work, remembering where everyone was from and the unique characteristics that came with them. Especially when some varieties blurred the lines.

Namely one.

Miguel O'Hara, head of this shit-show and arguably the biggest pain in the ass you'd ever seen, rarely found himself in need of the medical ward's services. Which is probably why nobody thought to figure this problem out.

See, most spider-people were predominantly human. The spider that bit them had only added on to existing capability: extreme strength that improved muscle mass, improved grip on fingers...the only 'inhuman' factor was the webbing.

Miguel had a slightly different build. His DNA had been spliced; like two ropes being braided together. The spider DNA had rebuilt his human DNA, therefore it didn't follow the same pattern in response to medicine or bandages. Which made his medical aversion a little more realistic.

Either way, it didn't matter how much he hated doctors, he couldn't fix a poisoned spear through his chest with an at-home first aid kit.

Eight of HQ's most qualified doctors sat around various scans of the monstrous Spiderman, puzzling through the bizarre data. Your education had been focused on epidemiology, or the spread of disease. Poison wasn't really your thing, but you thought it might be cool to watch.

Dr. Ben Parkinson, the 'head' doctor, was explaining the possible treatments.

"It doesn't seem to be deadly," he reasoned, "but prolonged exposure without medication might have some deteriorating effects." He pointed to a highlighted area of the wound. "See, the muscle tissue is deteriorating, and long-term deterioration could be permanent."

The medical staff shot amused glances at one another, trying to imagine Miguel as anything other than a hulking boulder of muscle.

Ben rolled his eyes and tapped the scans. "Do we have any base vitals for him? Any logged info?"

Maria, his assistant, scrolled on her tablet. "Uhhhh....negative on that. Looks like he hasn't done his immunos either."

You frowned. When HQ had established itself with a medbay, you and the few other nurses had done rounds to make sure any necessary vaccines and medications had been administered. How did we skip him?

"New plan," Ben said slowly, "let's get him up to date and then we'll evaluate. he's relatively stable right now, so let's keep up the current treatment and move from there, yeah?"

He looked at you. "You're the nurse responsible for his wing, right? Do you mind doing his vitals and reporting back?"

You nodded, faltering. What if the spider DNA screwed up his vitals? His resting heartrate was probably higher, and his metabolism had to be insane...the rest of the staff clearly did not share your concern, glad to be rid of the Miguel problem.

Maria handed you her tablet and gave you an apologetic smile. "At least the sedatives will stop him from scratching you," she whispered in your ear.

You shuddered. Here goes nothing.

Miguel was laid out on two beds with the guardrails removed. He couldn't fit on one, so the staff had to quickly improvise. You tried to hum a calming tune, hyperaware of the large claws hanging off the blanket.

Even though he was unconscious, a ripple of fear went through you. He was enormous. If he got mad....you shuddered.

Tenderly, you angled your stethoscope under the mess of tubes feeding into his chest. His skin was unbelievably warm, and you pursed your lips. Definitely feverish. You took his heart rate, tried as gently as you could to do his blood pressure, and measured his blood sugar on the dial near his bed.

Well.

His DNA was definitely strange, because all of his vitals pointed to cardiac arrest and a 104F fever.

"What...the fuck?" He should be dead by those numbers.

You did everything twice more, just to be sure. Still the same. Elevated heart rate, high temperature, and blood pressure that wasn't physically possible.

It confirmed your theory. That meant you had to do a full body scan, analyze the numbers, try to find some kind of pattern....ugh.

His hands were beginning to twitch, and you scurried out of the small room. He'd likely be pissed, waking up in a hospital room with a poisoned stake sticking out of his chest.

Reading through his file, you chewed on your pinky nail. Apparently, a new variant of Green Goblin had been discovered on the fringes of a random universe. It produced a highly acidic venom, the same that had infected the rebar impaling Miguel. The science labs were analyzing the poison, and little info had been found.

Corrosive, acidic, highly destructive on human tissue.

Huh.

Miguel seemed to be holding up okay. Explains the elevated temperature and heart rate. His body was cranking out energy, repairing the damage almost as soon as it occurred.

A grin teased its way onto your face. This was the part of your job that you loved. The puzzle, all the little bits that opened up a bigger picture and eventually, the solution.

You wrote up his chart with your hypothesis and sent it to Dr Ben. Tomorrow would be exciting, to say the least.

Exciting was one word for it. Apparently your prediction was correct: Miguel was decidedly not happy with his living situation at the moment. The nurse who'd gone in to give him his IV had dodged a flying chair, and it had escalated from there. Jess had intervened, resorting to an anomaly cage to keep him secure.

After that frazzling morning, Ben was ready for some good news. You were excitedly explaining the deductions you'd found last night, when a small knock came from the office door.

Gwen, one of the newer spiders, shyly poked her head in. Ben went to shoo her away, but you beckoned her in warmly.

Wait a second, you nodded to your boss, and he sat back with a sigh.

The young woman's colored hair hung limp and unwashed. She had been on the backup team to help Miguel and his crew, and the fallout had been hard on her. It was a big mission, especially for a rookie. She was struggling.

"Hi, Gwen, how are you today?" You pulled over a chair, nodding at her to sit. She folded her hands tightly and didn't meet your eyes.

"'M fine," she mumbled, fidgeting with her hoodie. You grabbed the notes you'd taken earlier and a pen.

"...Do...you wanna talk about it? Anything you remember, something we might have missed?"

The room was quiet as you waited. Ben shot you an exasperated look and nodded towards the clock. Not much time.

You sighed and leaned forwards. "it's okay if you don't have anything, Gwen, but we want Miguel to get better, so if you remember-"

"He was glitching," she blurted, cheeks flaming.

You exchanged another glance with Ben.

"He...when the..."she gestured vaguely, "spear thingy went into him, he started glitching. Like, really bad."

That made you stop. "Was...did you see his watch fall off at any point?"

She shook her head sharply. "No. It was like as soon as the venom hit him, he glitched. and it didn't stop until Jess and the guys got there. He was..." she shuddered, and you patted her arm comfortingly.

Though you did technically have spider abilities, you would never in a thousand years want to be fighting. You couldn't imagine dealing with that every day, especially at Gwen's age. You made a mental note to ask the psychiatrist for a check in.

"What were the details of the mission? was there anything specific about the Goblin that made him so strange?" As a member of the med crew, you didn't have access to mission files.

Gwen nodded, wiping her eyes. "Yeah. He was portal jumping like crazy. Miguel was so pissed," she laughed weakly, "he was jumping in circles like a cat."

"Was he glitching?"

"No, he was fine. It was weird...like he somehow belonged to all of the dimensions. We chased him through three different ones before..." A glazed look came over her, and you figured she needed a break.

"Thank you Gwen," you said gently, walking her to the door, "you've been very helpful. Get some rest, honey."

Watching her shuffle down the hall, you puzzled with the information she'd given.

What the fuck was going on?

Ben's serious look confirmed your bewilderment. This was clearly a bigger problem than you anticipated.

"We should give that to the labs," he pointed to your notepad. "They'll wanna know that info."

You nodded wordlessly, handing it over. What did that mean for Miguel? If this Goblin wasn't following the multiverse rules, was there even a possibility of fighting this?

Ben disappeared around the hall as you groaned into your hands. The excitement of the last 36 hours had done a number on you. Despite your heightened energy levels, you still felt sluggish. Flipping to the surveillance footage, you peeked in on your burly patient.

He was laying awake, the sharp spikes on his heart monitor indicating his agitation. His limbs were lightly restrained to keep him from disabling the glowing red net cast over him.

Oddly, you felt bad.

It was hard enough being injured and alone, but he was being treated like a prisoner. Poor guy. No wonder he doesn't socialize much.

Figuring you had some time, you grabbed your med kit and strolled down to his room. Maybe he'd have a good explanation of his situation. He was a renowned geneticist, after all.

The spider positioned outside his door gave you a wary look. "Miss, you might wanna-"

"Doctor," you corrected crisply, "and I'd like to see my patient."

The young man hesitated, but let you through anyway. He rambled about precautions and avoiding Miguel's temper, but you weren't listening.

His eyes were red.

A bitter, furious shade of scarlet that made your tongue dry and your heart cower. He was pulsing with so much restrained energy that you felt three times smaller. Again you were reminded of his size. You clutched your kit and dismissed the guard.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Despite his condition, Miguel could still easily snap your arms in half. Sharp canines dug into his lower lip. Maria's earlier comment came back to you. I'm more worried about the teeth than the claws, honey.

"Miguel?" Your voice was surprisingly stable, though quiet.

He blinked but gave no further answer. Swallowing, you walked slowly around to the side of his bed and sat. His straining thighs were inches away. The net hummed gently, resisting any movement.

You squinted against the bright threads. Miguel continued to scowl, eyes narrowing to slits. Trying to breathe steadily, you pulled out a capped syringe.

"I'm going to give you your vaccines is that alright?" stay calm stay calm oh my god oh holy fuck-

A singular, clawed finger poked through the net.

"Be my guest, mija."

He'd broken the restraints.

______________________________________________________________

part two out on Aug 18! love you xox

let me know if you want to be tagged for updates!

#fanfic #fanfiction #atsv miguel #spiderman #spiderman atsv #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #x reader #reader is female

68 notes · View notes

ultram0th · 1 year ago

Text

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 31: Tyler Hoechlin to Derek Hale TF

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15 │ 16 │ 17 │ 18 │ 19 │ 20 │ 21 │ 22 │ 23 │ 24 │ 25 │ 26 │ 27 │ 28 │ 29 │ 30 │ 31 🎃

Happy Halloween everyone! I hope you all enjoyed this Derek Hale Tf Marathon! It was so much fun to make, and I hope that you all liked what I put out!

-- -- --

Actor Tyler Hoechlin filtered through some emails to waste time before he had to get ready. The actor was supposed to make an appearance at some celebrity Halloween party for photo ops. He wasn’t above taking a picture here and there, but he hadn’t even began to think about a costume, nor had his assistant just grabbed one for him.

“I could just wear a bedsheet and go as a ghost?” Tyler chuckled to himself, thinking that it’d be so lame that it’d be good.

He deleted several emails from casting agents who thought that he’d be great in one of their low-budget horror movies that was supposed to go straight to steaming services. Tyler couldn’t help but grimace at doing anything horror related.

After spending so many years being cast as Derek Hale on Teen Wolf, the last thing he wanted to do was something spooky-ish, lest he risk being typecasted. Already, the actor played Superman on Superman & Lois, but he still had several people on the street referring to him as “Derek”. Of course, Tyler was grateful that so many fans appreciated his work on the MTV series, but there was a part of him that was ready to let the role go.

Which was why he’d frowned deeply at the email from Jeff Davis, the creator of Teen Wolf. Tyler begrudgingly clicked on it, scanning it a little until he got to the reason for the reaching out:

“…MTV is interested in rebooting the Teen Wolf series, and after the negative reception of the movie, the producers have decided not to count it as canon. Can we count on you to return as Beacon Hills’s resident Alpha, Derek Hale?”

Not even bothering to respond to it, Tyler moved the mouse towards the garbage icon to delete it. Before he could click it, his laptop screen flickered and an odd electric shock sparked out, actually shocking Tyler.

The actor recoiled his hand at the sensation, the electric shock sending a tingling feeling throughout the rest of his body for a brief moment.

“What the hell?” Tyler wondered aloud. He closed his laptop and shoved himself away from his desk, making a mental note to buy a new laptop tomorrow since his was obvious short-circuiting.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed, seeing that he was supposed to start getting ready for the party. Tyler rubbed his temples and walked towards the bathroom so that he could start getting ready.

As he undressed, the actor could feel a little apprehension starting to seep into his bones about attending the party. The normally social Tyler Hoechlin, for some unknown reason, began to frown at the thought of being at a stuffy Halloween party that was going to be packed with people, wall to wall. The thought of being trapped in a room, shoulder to shoulder, with other people made Tyler shudder, and he began to think of reasons to bail. He thought that it was odd, but he chalked it up to his social battery just being abnormally low that night.

Still, Tyler told himself that he couldn’t just be a no-show. He’d promised his friend and previous costar, Dylan O’Brien, that he’d show up and the two could catch up over a drink.

Tyler could’ve sworn that his heart started to race in his chest for some reason, his limbs tingling with excitement. “What’s going on?” he mumbled to himself, confused as to why he seemed to be so giddy to see Dylan. “It’s just Stiles. I saw him last week…”

He coughed and cleared his throat, having no clue why he’d accidentally referred to Dylan as his old character, Stiles. Tyler shook it off and hopped into the shower. As he bathed, Tyler couldn’t seem to get Dylan out of his head.

“What is going on with me?” he asked himself, wondering why he couldn’t get the man’s dimples out of his mind. What was even weirder to the man was that his cock started to plump up, sticking straight out in front of him.

Tyler had never had a gay thought in his life, and despite seeing all of the Sterek fan art online, he’d never entertained the thought of him and Dylan together. Yet, for some unknown reason, the more he pictured his toned, mole-spotted body, his cock throbbed even harder.

“Fuck it,” Tyler grunted as he wrapped his fingers around his cock, pumping away.

Tyler was so lost in the pleasure that rippled throughout his body as he jerked off, bellowing out low moans the entire time. His free hand ran over his muscled chest, his fingers running through the thick pelt of chest hair—

“Wh-what?” Tyler grunted as he looked down, still playing with his throbbing cock as he stared down at his previously smooth chest. Despite having just shaved his pecs earlier that morning for some pictures as the smooth-chested Superman, Tyler’s chest was now covered in thick, black chest hair. The hairs covered his meaty pecs and ran down his stomach, connecting to his bush by a noticeable happy trail. “What the hell’s goin’ on?”

Tyler’s confusion was briefly forgotten when all of his large muscles tensed up, and his cock erupted with a spray of cum, shooting a large load against the linoleum of his shower.

The stud was left panting, leaning against the other wall of the shower as he tried to catch his breath. Tyler ran a shaky hand through his wet hair, trying to piece together the fact that not only was his chest hairy, but he’d also just jerked off to another guy— one of his past costars at that.

“I guess Stiles is kinda cute,” he begrudgingly muttered, flinching for a second. “Um, I mean Dylan.”

Tyler finished up his shower and dried himself off in a daze, struggling to wrap his head around what was going on. He knew that something was up, but whenever he tried to concentrate on it, a new growing part of his brain told him not to worry about it. Even as he dried off his hairy chest, his panic that he knew should’ve been there was barely audible.

The actor was puzzling over it as he lumbered back to his bedroom to get dressed. He opted to grab a nice designer suit of out his closet, one that was supposed to make him look like 007. Yet, when Tyler pulled on the white button shirt, he huffed in irritation over how tight it felt.

“Damn it,” he grunted, unable to close the top four buttons of the shirt over his broad chest muscles. He tried his best to suck in his stomach in order to make himself smaller, but his fuzzy pecs were too large to fit into the tiny shirt. His wide back muscles were far too wide, and his biceps threatened to tear the expensive fabric to shreds. Tyler could’ve sworn that the shirt had fit him perfectly at the store, yet now it was at least two sizes too small for him.

With an annoyed huff, Tyler tossed the shirt to the floor and stomped over to his wardrobe to find something that would fit over his muscles. As he stared at the expensive clothes in his closet, Tyler couldn’t help but feel a large bubble of animosity start to form in his gut. The thought of parading around in such garish and over-priced threads was almost repulsive to him.

Without a second thought, Tyler hurried over to his dresser and yanked on a tight, gray tank top that barely fit over his large muscles. He pulled on some worn blue jeans that hugged his butt nicely. As the finishing piece, Tyler snatched a black leather jacket out of his closet and shrugged it on, feeling much more at home in it than he would some brand name suit.

Tyler paused to look at himself in the mirror before exiting his house, noting that he looked like he was wearing his usual outfit that his character Derek Hale wore on the set of Teen Wolf. He snickered and rolled his eyes, but then gasped.

“What the hell…?” his voice trailed off when he leaned in closer to the mirror, his eyes honing in on his teeth. As impossible as it seemed, Tyler could’ve sworn that his canines were bigger. They stood out much more prominently than the rest of his teeth, looking like the actor was wearing caps over them, trying to make them look larger and sharper. “I, uh, I guess these are supposed to be the sharper teeth… Shit!”

Tyler jerked back in surprise at the way his smooth, freshly shaven chin was now covered in a trimmed beard. The way his sideburns connected to it indicated that Tyler must’ve been growing out his facial hair over the course of a few days, maybe even weeks. However, he knew for a fact that he’d shaved his face not even an hour ago, letting him know that something was indeed wrong.

In disbelief, the hairier hunk grabbed at the hairs covering his chin, shocked that they were real and attached to him.

His heart began to race in his beefy chest, but he was quickly distracted when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Despite himself, Tyler snatched it out and glanced at the screen, his stomach doing flips when he read that it was a text from Stiles/Dylan.

Hey! I’m at the party! You’re coming, right? it read.

Tyler couldn’t ignore the giddy excitement that rippled through him, and he caught himself smiling like a goofball, his larger canines poking out of his mouth.

On my way, he responded, grabbing his keys and leaving his house.

Tyler rushed over to his garage and opened the door, not even thinking twice before hopping into his black Camaro instead of his Tesla before he sped down the street towards the party, eager to see Stiles— or Dylan.

He floored the gas pedal as he rushed to the party, irritated when he hit a red light. Tyler groaned impatiently and rested his head against the headrest in irritation. His eyes glanced towards the rearview mirror, and Tyler gasped at what he saw.

He almost tore the rearview mirror off of its fixture as he leaned closer, seeing that his brow appeared much more prominent than it should’ve. That, and his eyebrows were missing for some reason. His ears had elongated, ending in points that protruded far off his head.

Tyler ran a disbelieving hand over his facial features, feeling ridiculous. He had just enough awareness to recall looking in the mirror on the set of Teen Wolf, seeing the same exact look whenever he was made up into Derek Hale’s beta form. Yet, he could feel the nerve endings whenever he touched his new canine ears, paling at what that indicated—

HONK!

The car behind him blared its horn as the light turned green, snapping Tyler out of his panic.

Tyler just bared his teeth in the mirror and continued on his way. All of the cars on the road, the bright lights of the city, and the too poppy songs on the radio all seemed to get under the stud’s skin, and a firm scowl planted itself onto his handsome face.

It wasn’t long until Tyler pulled up in front of a large convention center that had a valet service up front. He stopped and got out of his Camaro, unable to hold back the intimidating snarl when he tossed the valet his keys.

“There better not be a scratch on it when I get back,” he muttered, noting the deeper quality to his voice. He cleared his throat as he walked up towards the entrance where a large bouncer stood, clipboard in hand.

“Name?” the bouncer asked.

“Derek Hale,” Tyler answered automatically, flinching and clearing his throat again. “Sorry about that, my name’s Der— er, Tyler Hoechlin.” He didn’t know why saying his name seemed like some Herculean feat, the actor having to clench his fists in order to get it out of his mouth.

The bouncer simply looked down at the list on the clipboard before nodding and ushering Tyler inside.

Tyler rubbed at his temples as he tried to piece together what was happening. However, the second he stepped foot inside, all of his senses appeared to have heightened as they were all assaulted at once.

Tyler winced at the onslaught of stimuli: the lights in the room were far too bright and he had to nearly squint in order to adjust his sight; the music was blaring out of the speakers, blasting at a near deafening volume; and the stench of overpriced alcohol singed his nostrils, making him grimace. The stud was ready to about face until a familiar scent wafted by.

It took a few seconds for Tyler to realize that he’d been sniffing at the air like a search dog, blushing once he’d been made aware of the other celebrities eying him confusedly. Still, the familiar smell of curly fries alerted him to someone else’s presence, and he found himself barreling through the crowd towards the source.

Tyler’s gaze honed in on Stiles, the cute guy standing over by one of the tables. He was dressed in a suit that had a red coat that made Tyler’s heart flutter in his chest. Immediately, he felt his scowl starting to loosen up the slightest bit, and the more he approached, the quicker Tyler noticed the other guy talking to Stiles.

“Grrr…” Tyler growled out of instinct. As soon as the animalistic sound left his lips, the shocked stud slapped a hand over his mouth. He had no idea why he’d literally just growled like a dog, but once he looked back over at Stiles and the other man talking, he couldn’t prevent the sound from uttering from his lips once more, his large chest vibrating from the noise.

Stiles picked up on the noise and looked over in his direction, smiling and waving him over. “Hey!” he called.

Tyler ceased growling and couldn’t prevent the wide smile from growing on his face as he hurried over to his boyfriend— or past costar. As Tyler was trying to figure out why he was so eager to see the other guy, he wasn’t even aware of the fact that he wrapped a possessive arm around Stiles’s waist, pulling the smaller guy closer into him.

Stiles turned to the other man. “Jeff, you remember Derek, right?” he asked before furrowing his brow in confusion.

The other guy just looked over at Tyler and nodded. “I sure do,” he grinned, holding out his hand for Derek to shake.

At first, the werewolf just sneered at the other man’s hand, jealousy still coursing through his veins. However, after a slight nudge from Stiles, Derek begrudgingly took it and squeezed it tightly, enjoying the slight wincing from the other man. “Nice to meet you,” he grunted.

Jeff didn’t look too fazed. “As I was telling Dylan, er, Stiles over here,” he said, “I was hoping to hear more about your stories in Beacon Hills. I’m with a large production company that would love to—”

“Not interested,” Derek interrupted, having absolutely zero desire to have his pack’s business advertised in any manner. He was as anti-social as they came, and the idea of talking to some big shot production guy made his headache grow.

Jeff frowned. “…yeah, I guess I did write him like this…”

Derek ignored that, and instead held on tightly to Stiles as he led him out of the crowd of people and towards the exit. They left the convention center and handed the valet the ticket.

“Der,” Stiles piped up, looking just as confused as he was, “um, how the hell did we get in LA?”

Derek’s brow furrowed too as he scratched at the back of his head. He felt like something was wrong, hearing some quiet voice in the back of his head that said that he wasn’t an alpha werewolf. For a brief second, his hairy muscles felt far too big and he wondered why he was so turned on by another man. However, the voice was immediately silenced when Stiles interlocked his fingers with his.

“No fuckin’ clue,” Derek finally said, shaking his head as he took the keys back from the valet. He and Stiles got into the Camaro, and Derek sped down the street back towards Beacon Hills.

The alpha werewolf rested his arm around the headrest of Stiles’s seat, the motion making his large biceps stretch his leather jacket slightly. Stiles leaned in closer to him, resting his head on his broad shoulder. Derek couldn’t help but puff out his hairy chest with pride, his inner wolf howling with content.

Derek Hale smiled widely, absolutely loving his life.

#31 days of derek hale #Derek Hale #Derek Hale TF #dylan o'brien #Sterek #stiles stilinski #Teen Wolf #Werewolf #Werewolf TF #Character TF #Muscle #Musclegrowth #Hairy #straight to gay

222 notes · View notes

criminalamnesia · 2 years ago

Text

Even If It Kills Me

warnings: blood, angst, death, f!reader, callsign is ‘Angel’, not proofread

summary: a mission goes wrong.

author’s note: back with some soap angst, don’t hate me too much. also alejandro and rudy are part of the 141 because I said so.

“Angel, how copy?”

No response.

“Angel,” Soap’s voice was laced with worry, brows furrowed as he spoke into his radio. “How copy?”

Again, no response.

“Anyone have eyes on Angel?”

It was Price now, his voice gruff over the radio. Voices chimed in then– Gaz, Ghost, Alejandro, Rudy. All negative.

Soap cursed, running a hand through his damp, unruly hair. The 141 had been sent to a compound deep within the forests of Russia to apprehend an arms dealer. It should have been easy.

Ghost was up high, perched upon a rooftop with his sniper rifle at the ready. Price and Gaz were after the target. That left Soap, Rudy, Alejandro, and Angel to sweep the streets and take out any stragglers.

They had split off from each other to cover more ground. Angel had been joking– smiling and laughing before she sobered up and stepped down an alleyway.

Now, she wasn’t responding, and no one knew where she was.

“I’m gonna look for her,” Soap said into his radio, eyes scanning his surroundings as he stepped out from behind a counter. The house he had taken cover in was dilapidated. Cracks in the linoleum floors. Dust covering every surface, at least two inches thick. Windows shattered and doors missing.

“Negative, Soap.” Price was speaking again. “Stay on mission.”

“She’s missing,” Soap spoke through gritted teeth, raising his gun as he moved towards the street. “She may be hurt.”

“Or captured.” Ghost. Always the optimist.

“Complete the mission,” Price ignored the both of them. “Rescue will come in after.”

Soap didn’t reply. He was torn– follow orders, or look for her? Price had never led him astray. But she was his lover, his best friend– how could he abandon her?

“Negative, Price. I’m goin’ after her.” He made his decision, already moving to where he had last seen her before she disappeared into that alley.

No one responded on the radio. Soap knew he’d been in for it later. Even if Price wanted to look for her himself, he was bound to duty. As was Soap.

Mission first. The mission above all else.

Screw the fucking mission.

His hands were steady as he held his gun level, sweeping the streets and each building he entered with skill that earned him the call sign ‘Soap’. Fastest at cleaning house, they’d said. Getting in, getting out. Neutralizing threats. Squeaky clean.

Sweat trickled from forehead to his chin. It got in his eyes. It was salty on his lips. He ignored it in favor of thinking of her.

How she smiled at him– wide and amused. How she blushed when he swung an arm around her, or when he called her ‘lass’. How he had taken her on a date to some shit-hole bar, and she’d spent the entire night beating him at pool.

How she had pulled him into a kiss outside of that bar and acted like it was the most normal thing in the world.

They had only been together a year, but Soap knew. He knew he wanted her for the rest of his life, if she’d have him. If they made it out of their service alive. If they ever settled down.

He made his way into the next building. Another run-down house. It smelled of mildew and rain.

He cleared the downstairs, mind on autopilot. The stairs were wooden, rotted and broken in places. He moved carefully up, creaks sounding from under his feet.

A door on the left. It was cracked. He pushed it open quickly, one hand still on his gun. Scanning the area, clear.

No. Not clear.

His eyes caught on a body slumped in the corner. A man’s– probably one of the target’s men. Shot in the chest. Soap almost turned and left, but then he heard a whimper.

He crept forward, his heart hammering in his chest. Panic crept up his spine.

She was behind an overturned chair, flat on the ground. A knife was lodged deep into the side of her neck, thin trails of blood creeping out of the wound.

Soap stopped. His world stopped. His heart nearly stopped. He had found her– his Angel. But she was dying.

“Hey, hey,” his voice sounded too calm as he dropped to the floor beside her trembling frame. He holstered his gun, his hand reaching towards the knife. “It’s alrigh’ lass, I’m goin’ ta get you out of here.”

Her eyes were wide. One of her hands was at her neck, fingers spread to try and stop the blood from escaping the wound. The other shook as it raised, reaching for him. Soap grabbed her hand tightly, squeezing it so hard it had to hurt.

“Stay with me, hen. Y’hear me?” He was nodding his head, as if trying to convince himself of his own words.

His free hand reached for his radio, fingers slightly shaking as he pressed the talk button.

“We need medevac immediately. Angel’s down– I repeat, Angel’s down.”

Voices chattered over the radio, but Soap couldn’t hear them. All he could hear were her small noises of pain. Tears streamed from her eyes. Soap gently wiped them away, leaning his head down closer to her.

Red spotted her lips. Blood trickled from her chin. She was drowning in her own blood. She couldn’t breathe.

“You’re goin’ ta be okay, you hear me?” His voice was low. He hoped he didn’t look as terrified as he felt. “Jus’ hold on, okay? Hold on.”

She nodded as much as she could. Her hand still clutched his. He wanted to scream. He wanted to kill the bastard that did this to her ten times over. He wanted to curse Price for splitting them up. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted.

He wanted her to live.

“When we get out of here, let’s settle down, aye? You an’ me. Maybe get a dog. Big yard. In some countryside far away from here.”

Her mouth opened as if she was going to speak, but all that came out was a gurgling sound as she choked on her own blood. She coughed, red spraying across his face. He gripped her hand tighter as his free one came up and ran through her matted hair.

“You an’ me, hen. Jus’ you an’ me. So don’t go, okay? You gotta stay with me now, alrigh’?”

He leaned his head down further, pressing his forehead to hers. He closed his eyes tight, as if he could will this away. As if he could make her stay here with him.

He didn’t move until someone placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Johnny,” it was Ghost. “It’s time to go.”

He opened his eyes to meet hers. They were closed. That’s when he realized that her hand was limp in his. She was dead.

She was dead, and there was nothing he could do. There would never be a house in the countryside with a big yard and dog for him, because she was dead. What was the point if he couldn’t share that with her?

“Johnny.” Ghost again, his hand tightening on Soap’s shoulder.

Soap inhaled shakily, slowly moving away from her. The knife was still lodged in her throat. A pool of blood had formed around her head, soaking her hair in some kind of sick halo. She was so pale.

“How long?” Soap asked, not bothering to turn his head.

“Ten since you called for evac. She was dead nine minutes ago.”

He inhaled. The copper smell of blood filled his nostrils. It was a smell he’d grown used to– but now it made his stomach turn.

“We’re taking her with us.” It was a statement, not a request. Ghost nodded, even though Soap’s attention was still on her.

He slowly brought the hand still clutched in his up to his lips, brushing his mouth over her pale knuckles. She’d always laughed when he did that.

“Such a gentleman,” she would giggle.

He ached to hear that laugh again.

He released her hand and pushed himself off the floor.

#call of duty #call of duty fic #soap call of duty #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap mctavish #soap mw2 #johnny soap mactavish #john mactavish #john mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty mw2 #soap fic #angst #reader insert #soap angst #John MacTavish angst

830 notes · View notes

tuliptired · 4 months ago

Note

Hey! If you don’t have much stuff to write I just had a fun scenario I would like to see.

I’ve had the idea of all the Ghostbusters interacting with an almost friendly ghost.

Like, the reader, is a ghost who haunts the old fire department and, for some reason, the busters can’t get rid of them.

But they aren’t a bad ghost. Do they cause a little mayhem? Yeah, but they don’t harm people.

Maybe everyone is a little weary because, let’s face it, they’ve all been through some stuff and expect a possible negative outcome.

… that’s all! Thanks lovely!

You Don't Hear what I'm Saying (Do You?)

Pairing: Ghostbusters & Ghost!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death

90% sure this gif is from frozen empire but haiiii

Better formatting on Ao3!!

Your last moments were, funnily enough, the foggiest in your memory. You always remember the parade running through the streets for a new mayor, generally just a reason to be jovial for a while. You can remember the rain falling from the sky, sending everyone inside for a minute, and you can remember the firehouse you took refuge in. What you can never recall is why exactly you woke up, presumably weeks later, with a splitting headache and no tangible body.

When you got over the shock over your new form, it was hard to come to terms with dying, to know that you inadvertently left everything behind without ever meaning to. Death always seemed so far away to you, as the thrill of the Progressive Era lingered in the air. It was even harder, to know that you’d never be able to leave the confines of the building you passed in. True, you had all the time in the world to explore, or test out your new abilities as a spirit, but it just made you even sadder, to disturb these hardworking men and be reminded of their livelihoods as they served the city. So you slept, invisible to the world and for as long as you wanted to escape thoughts of hopelessness.

Ghost-sleep wasn’t the same, though, not nearly as satisfying as sleep when you were flesh and blood. It was more like suspending yourself in a different state of matter for a while- something you would have never understood until you actually felt it. You didn’t want anything to do with anyone anymore, tucking yourself into the farthest and darkest corners and letting yourself stay dormant for years upon years. After a while, you’d be brought back to consciousness by a dull and throbbing pain in your head, forcing you back “awake”. Time had managed to slip your grasp, the firehouse eventually defunct and destitute in only a matter of time, its rundown interior only giving you more motivation to hide away from it all. In the simplest of words: you were in a neverending state of loneliness.

“I’ll be one minute!” Ray called over his shoulder. He went up the steps of the firehouse, until he was at the seldom used third floor. This place needed a good sweep, maybe a dusting, but that could wait. He had something much cooler in mind.

Ray moved a creaky shelf, looking around for a quick second before he did. “Are you here? You can come out now,” he stage-whispered.

You materialized behind him instead, smiling shyly as you peeked out from the shelving. He was so, so lucky. A ghost! Living in his attic! Technically, the attic of his ghost extermination service, but the little details didn’t matter much.

Not long ago, he was up here to stuff some of Peter’s junk in the tiny bit of storage they had. A chill ran up his spine after dumping it, hair standing up on end. There was no way, right? He scanned the room silently, not daring to breathe or move too hard or too fast. His hopes rose.

Ray swallowed. “Any ghosts up here, come out so I can see you.” No answer. “...we can play a game.”

Still nothing but the sounds of the air conditioning. His posture dropped in defeat- it was wishful thinking, anyway. Ray turned to leave, before he was willed to spin around. Another chill, one that ran down to his bones, racked him, eyes bulging wide as the figure of an early 20th century spirit appeared before him at will.

You didn’t attack him, or wreck the room. You just stood there, blinking occasionally, looking just as freaked out as he was. You were a ghostbuster, Ray! You’ve seen ghosts!

He snapped out of his stupor. “Oh yeah! The game!” He stared at you for a few more seconds, before scouring the room for something. To be fair, he didn’t really have a plan. Ray just thought it’d be pretty cool to have a ghost friend around- who wasn’t Slimer. And now he’s got one! Maybe. He emerged with a little ball, wondering why the hell four grown men owned one. He set himself up for catch, watching as you hesitantly raised your hands.

It fell right through you. Obviously.

Since then, through trial and error, you both compiled information about yourself. For one, you couldn’t talk- at least not much. He’d have to look into that, but it could be something you’d just have to relearn. Secondly, your control over physical objects seemed touch and go. You could interact with some things, but not others- and he suspected that it had something to do with the material’s age relative to your own. You could travel freely, fortunate for you and troublesome for him. Ray had a new experiment this time, one he thinks you’d like.

“You’re from 1902? 1904?” Ray asked, zipping open up a cloth bag that hung around his neck. You put your shoulders up- understandable, you’d been dead for a long time and out of commission for a while. “Well, have you ever had your picture taken?”

He watched as you eyed the Fujifilm in his hands curiously. You shook your head, gazing down at it like it was an object of a folktale. You nearly reached out to touch it, amazement making you forget your current predicament.

He smiled at your wonder. “Do you want one?”

Ray laughed as you nodded wildly, adjusting the phantom clothes that died along with you. You picked a spot that was freer from clutter- near the lab and sitting area, and tried to channel the portraits of dignitaries and upper class families that you only ever dreamed of being a part of.

With a few quick snaps, the best one printed, and it was only a matter of waiting until it would develop. You were impatient- surprised at how quick it took to manifest but annoyed at the dark square that became clearer at only a snail's pace.

“You gotta be patient,” he teased you, protecting the delicate film. “You’re just like Egon.” Your expression dropped, and Ray let up slightly. He felt bad, accidently bringing up his friends like this. The friends that you weren’t allowed to meet, otherwise they’d trap you almost immediately. “They’ll come around. Just give me some time,” Ray promised with a small smile.

You nodded, seeming to understand. Ray’s short gasp tore you from your melancholy, showing you the now developed photo between two fingers. “Look at that,” he said softly, grinning as you inspected it. If he was right, it had to have been decades since you had seen your own face.

“Ray!” a voice called from far below, impatient. He clicked his tongue, carefully leaving you with the photo where you could see it without having to move anything. As he reached for the doorknob, the room was shroud in darkness before illuminating again. You stood proudly, if not a bit coy, flicking the electricity on and off with pure physic energy a few more times.

Ray beamed. “Hey! You learned lights!”

Another quiet day. You counted the front door opening and closing twice from your spot upstairs- Winston lets the door drag, you learned, and Ray lets it slam. That left Janine, the woman you always hear at the very front desk, and Egon, the man you’ve seldom heard any noise from. According to Ray, he’s been spending more time in the lab than anything. Peter, the one with short footsteps, typically sleeps during these drags in the day, especially after a long night like the kind they had prior. It felt oddly comfortable, to familiarize yourself with their routines, though you had no idea what they looked like. How much could you learn about someone, when you observe them without eyes?

You could tell how sunny it was outside, growing jealous that they could soak up the warmth of the world while you were stuck at the top floor with very little natural lighting. Ray would understand, right? One quick trip couldn’t hurt. Everyone was too preoccupied with their midday activities, and if they did happen to see you, you’d scramble back to safety and just deny.

The sliver of light streaming in from the large window in the hallway felt lovely. You feel things differently, when you’re only a soul. There was almost a hypnotic property in the way you were able to bask in the wake of dancing dust, floating along the beam, and you swore your vapors were growing more and more vivid. Thank goodness someone left the drapes open- they’d simply passed through your fingers. Your senses, however, heighten when you’re a ghost. You could tell someone was watching you, and when you turned, it was a resident of the firehouse, disheveled from sleep and pointing one of those vacuum-wand-gun things Ray had tried explaining to you.

Instincts carry you to the safest point of escape. You could hear the man shouting into the vent, probably on the edge of his toes, the presumed image amusing you.

“You’re in the walls?” He hollered incredulously, voice bouncing off the metal. “Not fair.” When you never answered, he stormed off, short footsteps growing further and further away, before pittering back. “Stay off the second floor. Egon’ll see you.”

Winston had the hood of their vehicle propped open, doubled over into it and covered in dark oil. Ray was in bed, sleeping just like Peter was that one day after loud alarms and wailing sirens called them out to a job late that night. You had paid his snoring form a quick visit, but now you just watched Winston, no meddlesome plan in mind as the large white car intimidated you a tad. He shivered, dirty hands running across the length of goosebumped arms before he went back to work.

“I know you’re there.”

You blinked, slowly becoming visibly as he continued to crank a wrench around the soiled engine. “Ray’s terrible at keeping secrets. And it’s 5 degrees colder in here.”

So much for subtly. You were at least a little disappointed, before he spoke again. “Are you gonna possess me?” You shook your head. “Slime me?” No. “Chase me around?” Probably not.

His defenses dropped as he eyed you up and down, looking as stereotypical as a ghost could in your turn-of-the-century outfit and mystic state. “You’re lucky he has no survival instinct,” he pointed the wrench at you, “it’s like second death in that containment chamber-”

Winston saw you frown, softening. Not very nice, you thought.

“I’m sorry. Not cool, talking about death with a ghost, right?” You nodded. He wiped his hands on a spare towel. “And you’re stuck downstairs all day?” shaking your head, you pointed upstairs. All the way upstairs.

You started away from the car. What a gaudy thing to drive around in, you thought. You trusted Ray’s judgment, but not on this. Winston must’ve noticed, asking in disbelief, “you’ve never been in a car?”

You rolled your eyes defensively, and he just chuckled at you. Of course you’d been in a car! Just- not giant white hearses with junky gear strapped to it. Winston only laughed harder, holding the door open for you. “Wanna see this one?”

You swallowed- or, you would, if you still produced saliva. Careful to not fall through and onto the ground, you hesitantly lowered yourself into the seat, jumping slightly as he suddenly turned on the engine. “How is it?” You didn’t answer as he took his spot on the driver's side, and when he looked over, you held out the molecules of your hand, bouncing with the vibrations of the car. Forget how it looked- being in a car was fun. The things you appreciate more when you’re a ghost.

“What else can you do? As a ghost?” You thought about it, before leading him upstairs and pointing to the closed blinds by the large window. He didn’t hesitate to open them, watching as you glowed brighter under the light.

“Sun-basking,” Winston smirked. Just then, the phone started to wail throughout the firehouse, and Ray joined his friend, rushing down the steps, as Winston couldn’t stop snickering.

“What?” Ray questioned, startled awake.

“Nothing, nothing.”

It wasn’t until after their hour long job that Ray realized he had pen all over his face. And, that you were starting to get restless.

You knew Ray would be at least a little anxious that you were out and about, but you just couldn’t help it. You had friends- or at least, people who had no choice but to be around you. Peter tried to trap you a few more times, to “keep you on your toes,” but you always found new ways to escape. Janine had nearly spilt coffee all over herself when she first saw you, trying to figure out her desktop radio, but you were forgiven after demonstrating your best laundering tips from when you were alive. Now, she lets you listen whenever you want, as long as it was an agreeable station. You’d even met Dana, awed at how much she resembled early 1900’s aristocracy. Louis was so easy to mess with that you’d lost track of what you’d done. And it was fun, to stay out of sight and follow Ray around, keeping your laughter to yourself as he shuddered and continuously checked the thermostat.

Peter loved to step on your metaphysical toes, especially in the comfort of night. “What-” he flipped on the lights, watching as you sat in the middle of dozens of lit candles, trying to conduct your own personal seance.

“This is where all my red candles went?” he gestured around you. Whoever you would have contacted has definitely flown away by now.

“If you wanted a nice ghost friend, we would’ve introduced you to Slimer.” And who knew, fellow specters could get slimed? He was a clingy friend at first, but he quickly came to terms with the fact that you had no interest in eating.

Your little antics got bolder and bolder as your new friends started to drop their defenses. Switching around their boots, long john’s or pajamas was always fun whenever you got bored- though it got Winston taken off of laundry duty. He could’ve snitched on you, but he never did, and you silently thanked him with your best attempt at brewing coffee. The mug of water you planned to pour into the pot ended up slipping out of your phantasmic grasp, so that was the end of you trying to do favors.

Back to observing. You had been invisibly watching Slimer finish what was left of breakfast, before Peter came in and chased him out. He must’ve been forced to take care of the piling dishes in the sink, because he worked so hastily that a ceramic plate nearly flew out of his slippery hand. You caught it, not wanting the nice glassware to shatter, bashfully revealing yourself.

Peter stared at you, before turning back to the sink like it was the normalest thing in the world. “Oh. It’s you. Listen, Spooky-” he dried a dish, “I heard you learned ‘lights’. That’s awfully cute, but Egon would have my head if he knew I let a ghost run around. My job is to catch you, and you don’t want that. So, scram.”

Peter was officially off your list of friends. What’d Dana see in him? You irritably stalked off, disappearing from sight again.

“It’s still freezing, I know you’re still here.”

Maybe Slimer was better company. Before you could depart, Peter sighed, leaning against the edge of the sink as if he was surveying the amount of dishes he had left to clear. Reluctantly, he turned to you, starting your ascent to the ceiling.

He holds out a dripping cup. “If you help me dry these, I can open the blinds for you.”

Egon walked in then, and you were back to being as clear as air. “Who’re you talking to?” he glanced up from a notepad. Peter’s under eye twitched, and your whole body quaked as the scientist unknowingly passed through the space you occupied. He didn’t say anything, stilling as his shoulders tensed slightly.

“No one. Say, Egon, how’s a little pool? I’ll let you win.” Peter dried his hands off. Egon didn’t say anything, instead pulling his lab coat closer to himself.

“It’s cold in here,” he stated, pulling up the hefty window. What’s better than sunlight through glass? Sunlight from the source. You settled in euphorically on the sill, ready to sleep for a while. Thank you, Egon- no chores and a great nap. You could continue to dislike Peter, but you did overhear him encouraging Egon to keep the windows open whenever he thought you weren’t around.

Ray sighed, shutting the door to the attic solemnly. It had been a few days, and you hadn’t shown up in some time. Not a sock misplaced, car keys never once being clipped to the back of belt loops rather than the front. Winston had no ill intent, even bringing up your absence a day or two ago. Peter had promised not to try and trap you anymore after he slipped up and attempted it while Ray was turning the corner. Janine wouldn’t, Louis couldn’t…where’d you go?

Egon. It had to be. One surprise, one unsuspecting door being opened…he couldn’t even begin to imagine what could be happening to you in the containment grid. Ray flushed with worry, hurrying down the stairs and bounding into the lab as quickly as possible. “Spengs! Let ‘em go!”

The bespectacled man sat in the dark laboratory, hands wrapped around a cup of what must’ve been tea. There were roots, windchimes, and other trinkets that Ray recognized as objects for attracting the otherworldly placed around the room.

Egon calmly took a sip of his tea. “What’s wrong?” Ray blinked, catching his breath. There you were, not stuck in the mechanics of the containment unit but in your approximation of sitting in a chair, not drinking your tea but enjoying the steam billowing into you.

“But- I thought- you-'' Ray stuttered.

Egon flipped through a few notes. “I’m not that dense, Ray. And they’ve been a interesting topic of research,” he held up what looked like a much more intensely detailed account of your past life. Ray squinted, skimming past dates, addresses, family names.

“I thought you couldn’t talk!” Ray put his hands on his hips, reeling from all this new information.

You simply shrugged, smiling guiltily.

“You’d be surprised. Did you know they learned lights?”

#ghostbusters #ghostbusters 1989 #ghostbusters 1984 #would tag this as a / but i have to stay true #egon spengler #peter venkman #ray stantz #winston zeddemore #egon spengler & reader #peter venkman & reader #ray stantz & reader #winston zeddemore & reader #oneshot #fanfic #ao3 author #ao3 writer #ao3 link #open requests #ask box

37 notes · View notes

vintagelasvegas · 11 days ago

Text

Last Frontier Village, c. 1948

Old West-themed service station and theme park on the grounds of Hotel Last Frontier, Las Vegas Strip. Signs for Desert Spa and El Playtel motels behind the women in the first photo. Scans from negative by Vintage Las Vegas.

#1948 #Last Frontier Village #✴︎

15 notes · View notes

photo-60-studio · 2 years ago

Text

Importance Of Considering Photo Digitizing Services in Washington DC

While photos are an important part of our lives, it is important to safely save them and due to the advancement of the technology sector, the process has become easier and more successful. Check out this infographic to know the importance of considering photo digitizing services in Washington DC. Visit https://bit.ly/3YDv6zk to learn more.

#Photo Digitizing Services in Washington DC #photo scanning service washington dc #photo scanning #negative scanning services

0 notes

jpitha · 6 months ago

Text

Between the Black and Grey 41

First / Previous / Next

They streamed aboard the frigate. Fen, Northern, and Zhe ran to the command deck while Stormy headed to the AI core. After a minute or two, they could hear her over the ship's PA.

"Fen, this place is brand new! It still has that 'new starship smell'. I haven't smelled that in a millennium at least!"

Zhe sniffed the air, and her ears flicked. "It doesn't smell different to me."

"No, no, like it's a metaphorical smell. The ship is brand new that's all. I'm used to Starjumpers that have been in service longer than nations."

"While I appreciate all of this camaraderie-" Northern began, "The fact remains that we are under attack by the Empire and should leave."

"Sheesh. Is she always like this?" Fen could hear the smile in Stormy's voice. "Sit down then ladies, and buckle up."

As the three of them sat, belts snaked out from the seats and wrapped themselves around them and pulled just this side of too tight, and then when Fen breathed in, they loosened. There was a wobble in her inner ear as Stormy lifted off and the gravity changed from Picaresque to the ship. Fen heard a whining whirr above the normal thrum of the engine.

"Stormy, what was that?"

"Oh, I just freed the weapons. Call it experience, but I think we're going to need them. Speaking of, permission to apply War Emergency Power?"

"Uh, Yes? What's that?" Fen glanced at Northern.

"Ancestors, what a newbie. Northern, explain it please."

Northern ran her hand through her hair. "Human starships have always been over powered. If you run a high output reactor at a lower output it lasts longer, right? So that means that we always have power to spare. War Emergency Power means that you give Stormy permission to remove all the limiters and fuses on the reactors. Power output will greatly increase. She'll be able to wormhole link multiple times in succession - no waiting for the capacitors - all while firing the main battery and the slug throwers."

Fen raised an eyebrow. "But?"

"But it's dangerous." Stormy answered. "It's rare, but reactors can overload. Link the wormhole generator away, blow the battery, hell, blow the whole ship - though that's only happened once or twice. Most of the time a reactor overload is just a hassle." There was a pause and the thrum of the reactors seemed loud on the deck. "We're up next though, so you're going to have to choose."

"I approve War Emergency Power, Stormy, but do be careful."

"Hah! I'm always careful Fen. How do you think I lived this long?"

"Yes, but how many bodies have you gon---eeeeek"

As soon as they cleared the hangar, Stormy applied full thrust and fired a brace of juke charges along the side of the ship. Normally used only for last minute ducking around missiles, Stormy was using them to steer the ship in an erratic way as they thrusted away from Picaresque.

"Contact! Four Super Dreadnoughts trying to hide in the corona." Northern was hunched over a sensor station. "Seems like they're doing some wide angle scanning. They haven't changed their behavior yet."

"Four of them?" Zhe looked over at Fen and her ears flattened. "They don't know about you, right?"

"I don't see why they would. They're looking for the Empress. Speaking of-" She looked up at Northern. "Do you see her yacht in the system?"

"Negative, they must have linked away before the party started."

Suddenly there was a sound like cloth tearing, but lower, deeper. Fen felt it in the soles of her feet. It was the slug launcher. "Stormy, what was that?"

"Sorry Fen, I'm a little busy." Fen's inner ear did backflips as Stormy applied the thrusters asymmetrically and they spun in place. There was a sound like a thunderclap, and then three more in quick succession. The main battery. "Hooo, the Empire loves to pack the weapons on. I swear I didn't have this much firepower when I was a Starjumper!" Stormy is laughing.

"What's going on, Stormy?"

"Just watch on the screen."

Fen activated the screen at her seat. One side was a wireframe map of the system, and the other was a virtualized overview of the current battle. The four Supers were still out in the corona, but there were two battlecruisers that had linked in just moments ago and were firing missiles at the ships streaming away from Picaresque. Fen watched as there were white flashes as the missiles appeared in front of a ship, and rocketed into the nose. It exploded in a silent fireball.

"The missiles have wormhole generators?" Fen's voice cracked and her eyes were glued to the screen.

"Yeah, I remember when they thought of it. Back then the generators were too large and power hungry for it to work. But, I suppose with some of the knowledge transfer from the Sefigans and the Gren's miniaturization tech..."

A lucky shot rang off the hull, sounding like a stick hitting an empty can. The displays at Fen's chair flashed orange and the wireframe of the system was replaced with an overlay of the frigate with sections towards the rear outlined in orange.

"Fen, we've been hit!" Zhe is scrolling through the readouts as fast as she can. "Looks like mostly superficial. The ablative coating on the hull took most of it, but if they hit the same spot again, we're in trouble. Er, in more trouble."

"We're not going to take on four Supers." Stormy continued to evade the shots, but she was right, they couldn't take on the attackers. "Captain, where are we going?"

"I don't know, Stormy, I didn't think I'd have to decide right this second." Fen looked around the room. "I'm open to suggestions!"

"We could go back to the Heap, Daddy told me where they moved to." Zhe looked over at Fen, her eyes bright with hope.

"You know where the Heap is?" Stormy sounded impressed. "I figured that place was just a legend. It's up to the captain, but I'm up for the trip."

A sound like hail assaulted the hull. More lights lit up on Fen's display.

"That'll be the slug throwers. They're too far out to do more than annoy, but Fen, really. It's time to go."

"Uh" Fen looked at the radar, and then the ship schematic and then up at Northern and Zhe. They were both staring at the pads at their stations, trying to figure out what to do next. Fen was pulled against the seatbelts as Stormy did another aerobatic maneuver to get out of the way of something. "Fine, fine. the Heap. Stormy, link us to the Heap please. Zhe give her the coordinates."

"Already entered in, Fen. Stormy, do you see it?"

"I got it Zhe, Linking away now."

****

Fen sat up. She was in the K'laxi ancestral forest again. Ma crouched near her on the balls of her clawed feet. "Hey Fen. Doing some traveling? I don't see you for nearly a year your time and then you show up in quick succession. Makes me think you miss me." Ma winked and her ears flicked.

"Ma, I miss you every moment of every day. So many decisions would be easier to make if you were still with me." Fen pushed her self into a cross legged position.

"Well, I'm only a link away." Ma sat on her lap. "What's wrong hon?"

"Gord removed the Nanites."

"Yes, we know. What do you think of that?"

"I don't know. I think it's good?" Fen shook her head, like she was trying to clear it. "They didn't seem like they had my best interests in mind, but also they had a lot of power. Maybe I could have used that."

"Maybe you could have, it's true." Ma nodded. "But used it to do what? You know what the Nanites want."

"They want me to be Empress."

"You spoke with the current Empress, what did you think of her?"

Fen turned and looked Ma in the eyes. "She seemed... broken? She was trying so hard to look normal, collected. But you get more than surface deep with her and there was this howling, screaming loneliness, this sadness that permeated her."

Ma leaned back onto Fen's collarbone. Fen put her arms around her wife and hugged her tightly. "Sounds like Gord did you a favor then."

"Maybe, but now what?"

"Now what indeed."

****

Fen awoke, still strapped in her chair, to Stormy's voice. "Oh, she's one of those."

"Be nice Stormy, you've had captains that have trouble with wormhole links before." Northern chided. "Fen comes back faster than most."

"My wife's there." Fen's voice sounds fuzzy, distant.

"Your what?"

"Ma-ren. She was - is - my wife." Fen's eyes glisten. "She died back home when we were trying to escape with Gord on Spyglass. Shot in the back by one of Tam'tarr's goons as we were running." She sniffs. "I see her, every time I link. We talk. It-" Fen sobs loudly "-it feels like we're still together."

Fen breaks down, hands covering her face. Zhe undoes her buckles and gets up and hugs Fen. She just stands there over her, hugging for a few minutes.

Fen catches her breath and looks up. "What are we going to do?"

"What do you mean?" Northern asks quietly.

"I mean, what are we going to do? Gord and Chloe and the Empress are off on some kind of mission to destroy the Nanites, and I didn't want any part of that and so we ran away. Gord let us go. Said he wasn't going to make us come with him. We leave Picaresque only to get caught up in a battle with the Empire while they're looking for Meredith. They have no idea who we are or how close we were to her. If they did we'd be captured... or worse. Now, we're in the same system as the Heap, and... now what?"

Northern undid her belts and stood. She came over to Fen and Zhe and hugged them both. She was a little awkward at first, but after a moment squeezed them tightly. "We'll do what we always do. We'll figure something out. If it doesn't work, we'll figure something else out. As long as we're still alive, that's what we do." Northern straightened, the front of her shirt damp. "For now, let's go see Zhe's dad again. Maybe we'll get some work."

The siren was startling. The three of them must have jumped a meter. "Stormy! What's wrong?"

"Sorry to interrupt things, but someone just linked in. It's a Super Dreadnought."

Northern looked down at the ship displayed on Fen's pad. "Fuck me."

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #sci fi writing #humans are space oddities #humans and aliens #jpitha #writing #humans and ai #humans are space capybaras #humans are space australians #Between the black and gray

47 notes · View notes