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kk095 · 1 year

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The Drive By

Adriana Torrez was a 22 year old Latina with a fiery, outgoing personality. She stood at 5’2 with a pleasantly plump build, had dark curly hair, brown eyes, a naturally tan complexion, and colorful tattoo sleeves up and down both arms. Adriana was always a little rebellious and had the tendency to hang out with a rougher crowd.

A few nights ago, Adriana was hanging out at a friend’s apartment with a few people. It was her, her friend Crystal, a guy Diego who was a drug dealer in the neighborhood, and a guy Jay who’s gang affiliated. The group was just hanging out in the living room of the first floor apartment drinking, smoking weed, and listening to music. Out the living room window, a black SUV pulls up, kind of idling in front of the apartment. “who the hell’s that?” crystal asks. Suddenly, the back passenger side window of the SUV lowers, and out is an Uzi sub machine gun. The gunman sprays a few quick bursts into the apartment through the living room window. Diego is struck twice in the head before he even has a chance to react, dropping dead to the floor. Adriana unfortunately gets caught up in the crossfire, being struck twice in the chest, and once in the left shoulder, collapsing to the floor bleeding profusely. Jay pulls his gun from a drawer in the living room table and heads outside attempting to confront the shooter, but the SUV had already sped off into the night. “oh my God, oh my God! Adriana?!” crystal shouted, on the verge of tears. Adriana laid on the floor, gurgling on her own blood while bleeding out. Adriana had a terrified look in her eyes, but couldn’t get the words out of her mouth. “jay! We gotta call 911!” crystal shouted in a panicked tone. “no no no, fuck that. I got weed and guns in here. I don’t want the cops coming!” Jay protested. “her and Diego got fuckin shot! Come on bro!” crystal cried out. “naw, fuck this shit. I’m outta here.” Jay said, grabbing his car keys and heading out the door, heading to God knows where. Crystal decided to call 911 on her cell phone once Jay left.

“911, what is your emergency?” a female dispatcher’s voice asked. “Help! Help! There’s been a shooting at my friend’s apartment! You gotta hurry!!!” crystal shouted into the phone, practically on the verge of tears. “what is the location of your emergency?” the dispatcher asks in response. “I don’t know! It’s the apartment complex off conway boulevard near the liquor store. You gotta hurry! My friend’s dying!” crystal yelled into the phone, sobbing at this point. “alright ma’am, I have police and EMS en route. Please remain on the line for me.” The 911 operator replied.

In a few minutes, officer Natalie was first on scene. She entered the residence with her gun drawn. “hey! Over here! Help!!!” crystal shouted. Natalie put her gun back in her holster and headed over. “I have 2 victims. One deceased male Hispanic, early 20s, one Hispanic female early 20s, multiple gsw’s. Requesting EMS and homicide on scene.” Natalie said into her radio. “10-4. EMS is already en route. We’ll reach out to homicide.” A male voice on the radio replied to officer Natalie. “hi sweetie, I’m officer Natalie. Can you tell me who did this?” Natalie asks Adriana. The terrified girl gurgles on her own blood, spitting some up, with tears rolling down her face. “I… I don’t know. There was a black truck outside…” Adriana replied to officer Natalie. “great job sweetie, that’s really helpful. Do you know whose truck it is? Have you seen it before?” Natalie replied, holding the mortally wounded young lady’s hand. “I don’t know… I’m so scared…” Adriana replied, squeezing the officer’s hand tightly. “it’s ok sweetie, I have help on the way. The ambulance is gonna be here soon.” Officer Natalie says, trying to keep the girl calm. “What’s your name hunny?” Natalie asks the girl, trying to keep her calm. “adriana…” she replies. “I’m Natalie. I wish we met under different circumstances sweetie.” Natalie says back to the young lady, still holding her hand.

Finally, medics Tracy and Stephanie show up. “whoa, what happened here?” Stephanie asks, looking at the hectic scene. “drive by shooting. Guy over there didn’t make it, coroner and homicide are coming. But this is Adriana. She got hit a couple times and needs some attention.” Officer Natalie tells the two medics. “pleaee… don’t go anywhere… I’m scared…” Adriana says to officer Natalie. “it’s gonna be ok, I’m not gonna go anywhere.” The cop tells Adriana. “is she gonna be ok?!” crystal shouts, standing in the background. “she’s in good hands. I’m sure they’ve seen worse before.” Officer Natalie replies.

Tracy and Stephanie snip off Adriana’s top and bra, examining the bullet trajectory. “all 3 rounds have entry and exit wounds. Went clean through her.” Medic Tracy says. “yeah, tons of blood loss. Let’s get an IV set up and get her going on fluids and pain meds.” Medic Stephanie replied. With that said, IVs were set up in both arms, with fluid resuscitation commencing immediately, along with a dose of pain meds. Tracy stuck some EKG electrodes onto Adriana’s bare, blood soaked chest and set up the heart monitor while Stephanie removed Adriana’s pants, socks, and pair of Jordans she was wearing. “vitals unstable. BP 60/palp, heart rate’s 140, O2 saturation 91%. We gotta get her to the ER ASAP.” Tracy said. Tracy and Stephanie got Adriana onto a gurney, and brought her out of the living room, wheeling her into the ambulance nearby. Officer Natalie was allowed to come into the ambulance with Adriana since homicide and the coroner’s office arrived on scene to begin their investigation, talk to crystal, and take Diego’s body.

The heart monitors beeped loud and fast during the ambulance ride, with no sign of improvement in Adriana’s vital signs. “natalie… am I gonna die?...” Adriana asked the cop, tears running down her face. “it’s all gonna be ok, I promise.” Natalie replied calmly, trying to reassure the girl. “it hurts so much…” Adriana replied, spitting up more blood. “I know sweetie. It’s all gonna be ok.” Natalie replies, holding the girls hand, while stroking her hair with the other hand.

Adriana remained conscious the entire way to the hospital, and was wheeled into the trauma bay where Dr Lindsay, Dr Jose, nurse Nancy, and nurse Heather waited. “22 year old female, multiple GSWs to the chest and shoulder. Hypotensive, tachy, started fluids on scene.” Medic Tracy summarized to the trauma team. “ok thank you, let’s transfer her on my count. 1..23!” Dr Lindsay ordered. Adriana was now on the trauma room table underneath the large, bright overhead light. Officer Natalie and the two medics were asked to wait behind the yellow line in the trauma room so the doctors and nurses could have space to work. “natalie?... You there?...” a terrified Adriana asked. “I’m just over here. They want me to wait here while they work, ok?” the cop replies.

“Diminished breath sounds left side.” Dr Jose calls out after listening to Adriana’s heart and lungs with his steth. “alright, she probably needs a chest tube. Let’s get that set up. And let’s get her started on the MTP. 4 units packed RBCs unmatched, 2 of platelets, 2 of plasma.” Dr Lindsay barked out, taking charge of the stressful situation. “doctor… am I gonna die?...” a terrified Adriana asks Dr Lindsay. “you’re in good hands, ok?” Lindsay replied, not exactly reassuring the young lady. Jose begins placing the chest tube on the left side. Adriana yelps at the top of her lungs, several octaves above her normal speaking voice, feeling the scalpel’s every move, and the large plastic tube being jammed into such a small space. Blood shot out of the chest tube and onto Dr Jose’s trauma gown. Her oxygen saturation improved, but her vitals did not. “please… I’m so scared… I don’t wanna die…” Adriana begged the trauma team after the brutal, painful procedure was finished up.

Not too long after the chest tube was placed, Adriana began to deteriorate rapidly. She spit up more blood, and her eyes started to roll back into her head. “adriana? Stay with us hun.” Nurse Nancy said, doing a sternal rub. Adriana groaned, her eyes opening slightly in response as she fought with everything she had left to remain conscious. Adriana’s eyes were open slightly, letting out a calm exhale followed by a bit of blood before fading away. “I lost a pulse.” Nurse Heather called out, her blue eyes trained on the heart monitor to confirm. “starting compressions.” Nurse Nancy stated to the team. The veteran nurse delivered deep, strong, forceful compressions while nurse Heather grabbed an intubation tray. Officer Natalie was still watching behind the yellow line in the trauma room, absolutely sick to her stomach watching the young lady receive cpr. With CPR ongoing, Heather begins sliding the ET tube into Adriana’s airway while her head bobbed and lolled a bit, making it a bit of a moving target. Heather had to really concentrate, which was easier said than done in the chaotic situation of monitors chirping, CPR ongoing, and people shouting. Finally, Heather gets the tube in, and secures it with a blue tube holder. “I’m in!” she says confidently, then starts ambu bagging. PEA was on the monitors, so epi and atropine were injected intravenously in an attempt to obtain a shockable rhythm. Adriana’s eyes remained half open, staring blankly off to the room as her bare, busty chest is rocked with harsh compressions.

Several minutes of unsuccessful resuscitation efforts and another dose of meds are pushed, but PEA persisted. “thoracotomy tray. I’m gonna open her up.” Dr Lindsay called out decisively. Betadine was squirted into Adriana’s bare chest, with an incision being made no more than a second after the brownish-orange liquid hit her skin. Dr Lindsay made a quick, crude incision in the 5th intercostal space starting just shy of the sternum. The cut was extended laterally across her chest, underneath her large, plump breast, and ending just shy of her left armpit. In the coming moments, Dr Lindsay did her thing and cracked Adriana’s chest wide open.

There was a large rush of blood that exited the incision area upon entry to the chest cavity. The area was suctioned out multiple times, and a vascular clamp was placed on the descending aorta near the girl’s diaphragm. Lindsay performed a quick pericardiotomy and relieved a massive cardiac tamponade with clots that were able to be suctioned out. At that point, Adriana’s heart began to fibrillate. The internal paddles were charged to 20, lowered into her chest, and a shock was delivered. A dull, wet thump was heard. From Natalie and the medics’ position, you could see Adriana’s toes curl, showing off the deep, thick, soft wrinkles throughout the soles of her size 7 feet. “Nothing. Charging to 30.” Dr Lindsay called out. The electric whining of the paddles charging could be heard, followed by a wet ka-thunk. “no change, charging again to 30.” Dr Lindsay called out, eyes trained on the heart monitor for a moment. The large, spoon shaped paddles were lowered back into Adriana’s chest around her twitching heart, and a shock was delivered. Her torso jolted a bit and her large, d cup breasts jiggled for a moment. “still nothing. Let’s hit her again at 40.” Dr Lindsay called out, shaking her head. The paddles were lowered back in, and a shock was delivered. Adriana’s torso twitched sharply in response to the dose of electricity, while her eyes remained half open, staring upwards in an expressionless gaze. Dr Lindsay reached her hands back into Adriana’s chest, firmly wrapped her hands around the dying girl’s heart, and began vigorously massaging it. Another dose of meds were injected intravenously, hoping to stimulate cardiac activity.

A few cycles of internal massage and meds failed to restore spontaneous circulation, so the internal paddles were recharged and called for once again. The blood soaked paddles were lowered back in, and another shock was delivered. “no change. Shocking again at 40.” Lindsay called out, lowering the paddles back in as the electric whining sound was heard. The same dull, wet thump was heard, but the high pitched droning of the monitors going flat was heard almost instantaneously after the shock. Lindsay looked down and saw the girls heart sitting completely motionless and still inside her chest. “pupils fixed and dilated.” Dr Jose added, shining a pen light into Adriana’s eyes. Lindsay sighed, “she’s gone. Time of death, 1:36am.”

The ambu bag was detached from the ET tube and the flatlined monitors were shut off. Nurse Nancy gently shut Adriana’s eyes for the final time. “no! She’s young! Come on, shock her again!” officer Natalie shouts at the team, on the verge of tears. “nat…come on…” medic Stephanie says discretely, putting her hand on the cop’s shoulder. “she can’t be gone! She was talking to me on the way over!” Natalie cried out, trying to plead with Lindsay. “I’m sorry Natalie, but she’s gone. We did the best we could, but she lost so much blood in such a short timespan.” Lindsay replied, trying to be sympathetic towards the upset cop. “then give her more blood! Do something!” Natalie yelled, tears rolling down her face. “nat, I’m sorry. We all did our best.” Lindsay replied. Natalie collapses to the ground and cries “no…”

The drive by shooting of Diego Ortega and Adriana Torrez is still under investigation. Detectives still don’t have any leads on the whereabouts of the black SUV, or the location of Jay. If you have any information critical to this case, please reach out to the authorities. We also would like to keep the family and friends of the victims in our thoughts and prayers in this difficult time.

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nostalgicamerica · 1 year

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True story:

It doesn't take an Einstein to see that things are different today than they were in the middle of the last century. Not better or worse - just different.

The last time my wife and I visited our daughter she had to order her kids from their technology and come out of their rooms to say, "Hi." to Grandma and Gramps. Wait until they see their Christmas presents next December. Socks and underwear. That'll teach 'em.

My grandkids have choices that weren't available to me when I was a teenager; computers, streaming, smart phones, etc. Don't misunderstand - I would have been all over those things, too, were they available when I was growing up. I absolutely believe kids today are no different than when I was a kid. There is nothing 'wrong' with the up and coming generation that wasn't 'wrong' with those who came of age in the 50s.

There may be something wrong with the education system, or the culture, or with present day parenting, but not with the kids. The kids today will rise or fall to meet expectations, just as we did, and they would likely behave precisely the same as my friends and I did, if they were raised in the mid-fifties.

When I was a boy, we didn't have the options kids have today, so we had to make our own entertainment.

Throwing rocks at trees was always good healthy fun; we had plenty of rocks and more trees than rocks.

Standing on the trestle as trains from the mines or the sawmills rolled by underneath and pouring buckets of water down into the smokestack was great entertainment - that could keep us entertained for hours.

On occasion, If we were really feeling frisky, we would traipse over to the local golf course where the more affluent people rubbed elbows. We'd furtively sneak onto the greens and poop in the cups, smear it around with a stick, and then hide in the rough between the fairways. We learned many new and exotic words from the hackers. As an aside, it is my belief that the ladies were far more vocal and profane than their male counterparts.

But we all had individual hobbies. My real 'hobbies' were fishing in summer and hockey in winter, and every spare moment in between would find me reading. My younger brother and partner in crime was (and is) a talented musician and was all about his guitar and banjo year-round.

Some friends dabbled in shooting sports, some worked on cars or motorcycles, some joined me on the rivers, and some were engrossed with the arts in one form or another. We were as varied in our interests as we could be, given our options.

My friend Jussi was all about things aeronautic and aviation. He was always building World War II era model airplanes, both plastic and balsa, flying and static, which all hung from the ceiling in his room. He had rockets, and kites, and all the tools he would ever need to construct the models. He was the 'scientist' of our group and was always tinkering with anything mechanical. The family toaster malfunctioned; Jussi can fix it. The radio blew a tube; where's Jussi.

Jussi's room always smelled of modeling glue and model aircraft dope, even though his window was always open.

So often during the summer months, if the weather was right, we'd all gather in a field to watch the launch of his latest rocket, or first flight of whatever plane he had just finished. It was always great fun and I could always see Jussi's pride as his rockets arched skyward, a trail of smoke following behind, before seeming to pause at it's apogee and then begin falling. At that moment, the nose cone would pop off and a fabric parachute would eject and gently lower the rocket to where we waited below.

Unless, of course, the wind happened to be blowing aloft and carried the rocket downwind. Then we'd have to go on a hunt. There was more than one occasion when we couldn't find the rocket at all.

The summer we turned 14, Jussi happened to read an article in one of his many science magazines (Popular Science , maybe, or Science and Mechanics, or the ubiquitous Popular Mechanics and Science and Physics and Knitting) on a new sport; hang gliding. At least the sport was new to us.

More precisely, the article was about how to build a hang glider. It was complete with schematics and a supply list. It was detailed. It was easy to understand, even to young teenagers. It was obviously written for somebody with more scratch than we had.

When Jussi first suggested building the glider to the group of four friends who were enjoying homemade Popsicles on his back porch, we all enthusiastically agreed. Why not? What else did we have to do on a hot July afternoon?

We pooled our financial resources and discovered we collectively had $1.73. We weren't going to be able to buy the materials we'd need.

I'm a bit ashamed that I came up with the idea to use our mother's sheets. I suggested the five of us go to our respective homes and steal one from their mother's linen closet. King-sized, if they were available. My brother and I would swipe two, if we could.

Afterwards, we'd hike to Pelki's Junkyard to see if we could pinch something with which we could construct a frame and cross pieces.

We were all starting to get excited, especially Jussi. I could see the gleam in his eyes at the thought of soaring high above our town, waving at pedestrians, and dropping water balloon bombs.

At the time it didn't cross my mind that, other than gently sloped hills, which, by the way, were covered in pine and maple and oak trees, our town was surrounded by pretty flat terrain. I vaguely recall Skunk pointing it out, but that wasn't important at the time.

An hour or so later, we all met in Jussi's backyard and stowed the sheets in a Nehi box and set out for the junk yard.

Pelki's Junkyard was, just as the name might imply, a junkyard. But not just any junkyard. It was a junkyard's junkyard. The Pelki family had been in the junk business since before World War I. It had been filled with abandoned automobiles and household appliances from several surrounding communities over several decades.

If you needed a windshield for a 1925 Ford Model T, chances are Pelki's would be able to help you out. Need a door for a 1934 GE Monitor Top Refrigerator? Check with Pelki's.

An arial view of Pelki's Junkyard, a mile south of town, would have shown mountains of bed frames, barrels, engine blocks, tangles of wire, and stoves. It also had piles of pipes of all lengths and diameters, which is what we were after.

We weren't worried about security at the yard, as there was none. No junk yard dogs or even locked fences. More importantly, Elmer Pelki, the proprietor of the establishment, 80+ years-old with about four yellowed teeth in his head, knew us kids all by name and was always happy to let take whatever junk we might need so long as we didn't mess up his piles too badly.

We always treated Elmer with genuine respect and let him know if we took anything. He was a poor boy's supplier.

I'm sure the Popular Mechanics and Science and Physics and Knitting article didn't anticipate putting together a hang glider using the components we had available to us. It listed nylon and aluminum and brackets and specific nuts, bolts, and washers in it's assembly instructions.

We had none of those.

When we headed back to Jussi's place, we were hauling eight, fifteen- to twenty-foot lengths of conduit (not aluminum) of slightly varying diameters, several shorter pieces, and some leather straps we thought we might be able to use. We had no nuts, bolts, or washers, and Pelki's had apparently had experienced a run and was sold out of nylon of any sort.

The slog back to Jussi's seemed much longer, loaded down as we were. By the time we offloaded the components of our flying machine behind Jussi's barn, it was dinner time and we were done in.

Confident the hard part was in the rearview mirror, we all agreed to meet back at Jussi's the next day after our chores were done to construct our aerodynamic masterpiece.

'Masterpiece,' it would seem, is a relative term.

The following day, just before noon, all five us were in back of Jussi's place, laying out the rough frame of our glider and trying to map out the best approach in the assembly.

Immediately, those of us not completely brain dead (namely Jussi and Spud) pointed out that we had a problem. Configured as it was with two similar-sized pipes in a straight line, and two at an angle that met in the center, our kite was going to have a wingspan roughly 35 feet from tip to tip. We would have needed to empty our mother's linen closets, plus some of our neighbor's clotheslines to obtain enough fabric to cover the wings.

To solve the problem, we cut the pipes in half (a job that was back-breaking given that the Jussi's dad's hacksaw was dull and chewed up and the blade had a tendency to pop off every so often). The result was a much smaller, tighter wingspan.

We were still doubtful at the massive size of the beginnings of our hang glider, but Spud was confident. He and Jussi attacked the task of fastening the members of the wings together while the rest of us were given the job of sewing our sheet wing coverings together.

We spread our stolen bedding on the ground and I just shook my head. We had two, snow-white and pristine sheets (one king- and one queen-sized), a fitted queen that had once been lavender in hue, another sheet that might have once been king-sized that was a striped blue and white and full of holes and completely frayed at the bottom, and a small fitted sheet that not only seemed like it was designed for a toddler's bed, but also looked as if it had been urinated on. Often and recently.

As it was, there was no way we could cover the mammoth glider's wings. Jussi solved the problem and told my brother to get the tarp that was under his dad's workbench. When my brother came out of the garage he was staggering under the weight of a huge, folded, 20 by 20 canvas tarpaulin that he could barely carry. Jussi nodded and assured us his father wouldn't mind as he continued his task of drilling holes in the pipes.

We folded the tarp in half and cut it down the middle. We folded the halves in half and cut them on a diagonal to approximate the shape of our wings. With two boys punching holes every six inches with an awl, and me tying the edges with a spool of heavy jute we fashioned two enormous envelopes that would cover the frame wings completely, if not exactly neatly.

By the time we were done sewing the covering, Jussi and Spud were finishing up fastening the frame. They had sewn the pipes together using baling wire and, using a similar technique, inserted four crosspieces to provide stability. The center was a rough square with two wobbly handles the 'pilot' could hang onto during flight.

They used baling wire to fasten leather straps on the top and bottoms of the wings from one side to the other to provide wing stability.

Whatever else it was, the structure was sturdy. Jussi and I lifted it by the wing tips and gave the frame a vigorous shake. Only one piece came loose. I remember thinking that it seemed heavy for something that was going to soar through the air.

We then slid our canvas skin onto the frame, one side at a time and 'sewed' the two wide sides together. Spud and my brother cut slots in the fabric and threaded a twelve foot leather strap in a loop that met beneath the monstrosity.

Several hours after we started, the group lounged on the porch mouthing the ersatz Popsicles and 'admiring' our 'handiwork.' it was clear to all of us that the sprawling hirviö wasn't anything like the photos in the magazine.

It looked like a drunken and slovenly pterodactyl that had passed out. One side was longer than the other, and it listed to the left. To say I was dubious would be greatly overstating what I thought, but it was still awesome.

After the frozen treats were gone and the brain freeze had waned, four of us lifted the glider over our heads and gently pushed it off into the wind. I have to admit my surprise when it actually caught the breeze and 'sailed' about six feet before landing relatively softly in the weeds.

The next task we faced was trying to figure out from where we could launch our craft.

The highest point in our neck of the woods were The Cliffs overlooking Cutoff Road. The Cliffs were six miles away as the crow flies, and about half again as far if we manhandled the brown bomber by road.

To a man, every one of us said there was no helvetin way we were going to haul the thing to The Cliffs by hand. Besides, I am fairly certain had we hauled the thing to The Cliffs, not one of us had big enough kiveksets to strap themselves in and jump from 75 feet up.

Skunk pointed to Jussi's dad's garage as a possible test for the glider. At it's peak it was maybe 20 feet high. Perfect.

Fortunately, Jussi's parents were out grocery shopping or some such, because I am pretty sure they would have put the lopettaa to the idea if they saw us wrestling the gargantuan kite up onto the garage roof.

That's exactly what we did. Two ladders on either side of the front of the garage, one boy on each wingtip, two in the middle, and one pulling from the rooftop, we inched the 'glider' upwards. By the time we got it up onto the roof, I was confident the stupid thing wasn't a glider at all, but rather an anchor. And I was sure it would fly about as well.

Finally, the moment of truth: who was going to be the test pilot?

We all feigned interest in the opportunity and argued good-naturedly back and forth as if we truly wanted the honor.

The matter was settled the way we often settled disputes: shooting fingers. Two boys faced each other, one called odd, the other even and on the count of three 'shot' out one or two fingers. The number of fingers, even or odd determined the winner.

One by one the boys fell to superior fingers, until it was between my brother and me. He called even, leaving me the odd man out. I could see fear in his eyes as we stood next to the kite. I knew he didn't really want to be the pilot.

I also knew he always shot one finger. On the count of three I shot two and was left standing the 'winner.' My brother tried to act disappointed even as relief was painted all over his face. I'm not going to pretend I wasn't scared.

Even as the others lifted the glider up to allow me to crawl into the middle and literally tie the leather straps around my waist, I was terrified and I could feel my legs quaking beneath me. Looking over the edge of the roof, it seemed impossibly high.

"What's the worst that could happen?" I recall thinking to myself. I also recall thinking, "Paska, this thing is heavy."

That was the moment I should have backed out and let one of the others take the trip. The wing tied to my back seemed impossibly heavy and not at all aerodynamic, and the wings drooped terribly. But there was no turning back.

Like a gunfighter in the old west, a boy in my time couldn't show cowardice or it could follow him through his entire adulthood thereby limiting his earning potential and likely his choice of mates. My nickname would be changed from 'Orava' (Finnish for 'Squirrel') to 'Ei Kiveksia' (Look it up). Dad would have to hang his head in public and probably come to wish I had been born a girl.

No, I was stuck, so I silently repeated the question, "What's the worst that could happen?"

Spud and Jussi both suggested waiting for a strong gust of wind before I jumped (as if I could have jumped with the behemoth strapped to my back). I used mental duct tape to silence the voice in my head, and I forced myself towards the edge of the roof by pushing up and out as hard as I was able and literally fell off the edge. The glider caught the breeze and seemed to float away in slow motion from where my friends were cheering.

"It's going to work!" I exulted in my head as I floated from the garage. Two feet. Three feet. I was free from gravity! I was flying! Five feet. I was the next Lindbergh! Parades and stuffy speeches from politicians lauding my greatness were in my future!

Then a moderately strong gust caught the wings of the glider.

Jussi was at least a decade away from earning his mechanical engineering degree from MTU and so he had a few things yet to learn, namely, the stabilizing leather straps (or, more accurately, the tensile strength of the baling wire with which they were tied) weren't sufficient to keep the wings from folding up like a sheet of writing paper, which, when the baling wire snapped, is exactly what they proceeded to do

The two massive spans lifted up and met high in the sky above my head and the contraption plummeted to the ground like an anvil, taking me with it.

As they say, it isn't the fall that hurts you...

When the dust settled and my four compatriots extricated me from the broken albatross, they had to do so gingerly, after cutting the strap from around my waist, because I couldn't move my left leg, and my left wrist was rapidly swelling. One of the pipes had wacked the side of my head and blood was leaking from my right ear and my eyes were staring in different directions.

Spud somehow kept his wits about him and ran to Jussi's neighbor who carried me to his truck, laid me in the back, and drove me to the clinic two blocks away, and then called my mother.

It turned out that while my wrist was broken, my left knee and ankle were merely sprained, and I had a concussion. The other bruises and scrapes were inconsequential.

Mom, to her credit, did not offer to kill me on the spot. She didn't even do so when the sawbones gave her the diagnosis. She did, however, dress me down a bit as she ferried me and my brother home in her DeSoto. As she pulled into the drive she leveled her big guns. "Just wait until your father gets home!" It was the most severe and frequent admonishment Mom ever used with me and my siblings.

I'm sure Mom and Dad were relieved that I'd survived but they tried to use me to set an example for the rest of their brood.

While they read us the riot act and grounded me and my brother for the remainder of July, I couldn't help think how loved we were. Even as they were doling out their harsh discipline I could see through Mom's tears and Dad's sternness. I could see they were only concerned for their sprouts.

Late that night I lay in bed reviewing the day waiting for sleep to claim me. I could hear Mom's and Dad's voices discussing their sons coming up from the kitchen through the vent. Mom was sure they were being too soft and that we were going to drive her to drink, but Dad was laughing and telling her that's what kids do. They get bumps and bruises, pick themselves up and hopefully learn lessons along the way. By the time I drifted off to sleep, they were both laughing.

I did learn a lesson from my brief flight, and no, it wasn't to always listen to that quiet voice in my head that suggested caution. I would continue to mostly ignore that voice for many more years until the falls and bumps and scrapes beat me into a state of reasonableness.

No, the lesson I learned is that there is no idea so stupid that someone, somewhere won't look at it and say, "Why not?"

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55-degrees-fahrenheit · 1 year

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There is an unused image in Remix 2 showing the Shoot-'Em-Up Radio Lady in a swimsuit and a flower crown. She also has orange hair. Despite her having idle and blinking sprites, she only has one talking sprite.

#rhythm heaven ds #shoot em up #unused sprites

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puppys-rhythm-heaven · 3 years

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anyways.

here's this meme that took me like. not even five minutes-

#puppy rambles #rhythm hell #particularly pop singer and the shoot-'em-up radio lady and the player donpan (in bon odori)#they just. ugjtfbtfjtfjrbufjrgtdjfvh #GIRLS-#„‚ god being ace is weird-#irl i don't even know what looks good on me but hoo B O Y are rhythm heaven girls adorable #i just. jgjtvjtithtvhr #if anyone needs me i'll be keysmashing cuz girl hnnngh

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switchbladedreamz · 2 years

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A Dutton In Love

Requested? Nope

Summary: Rip has been meaner than usual lately. Rip Wheeler x fem!reader fluff

Warnings: mentioned female masturbation, cursing, that's it.

"C'mon Beast" I say as I lead my horse out of the stable. His black coat shining in the Montana sun, a cool breeze ever present. Standing in the left stirrup I mount my horse. "Where you headed today little lady?" Lloyd asks, resting against the gate. "Lloyd I ain't no lady, and I'm taking Beast to a trip into town, he could use the long walk.". I pat the left side of his neck, Lloyd looks up at me. "Alrighty. Well Rip wanted me to let you know that you'll be accompanying him and Kayce to the cattle auction tonight.". "Well Lloyd, congrats on the new job. I didnt know you were a messenger now. Please be so kind and tell them I'll be back before we leave.". He chuckles and walks away, shaking his head.

Its dusk as we arrive back at the Yellowstone. Beast is back in the stable, happily munching carrots that Tate is feeding him. "How was your trip to town Aunt (Y/n)?" Tate asks, giggling as Beast nibbles his palm. "Well lil buck, I gotcha somethin.". I pull out a pair of brand new leather gloves, embroidered with his initials. "Since I know you lost yours in the crik last week. Look, T.D. Now dont go losin em now, those cost me a pretty penny." He hugs me tight. "Thank you, I promise I won't lose them. I love you.". I'm takin aback but chuckle. "I love you too little buck". He runs off shouting for his dad, who turns the corner and they collide. "Woah hey, where's the fire son?" He proudly shoves the yellow gloves in his dad's face. "Look what Aunt (Y/n) got me! And they're emboideld!" "I think you mean embroidered son. Those are awesome." Kayce looks at me, a big smile one his face. Happy that at least one sibling of his loves his soon they should. "Thank you (n/n)" he mouths I tip my cowboy hat to him. "I'ma go shower 'fore we leave Kace." He just nods and leads Tate to the lodge.

The cold water hits my back, almost done finishing my shower. Being a hand on a ranch makes you sweat and heat up no matter how cold Montana can get. "(Y/n) you in here?". I hear a voice call out. Poking my head out, I see Rip standing in front of the sinks. "You almost done?" He huffs out, visibly annoyed. I ignore him and turn the water off. I open the curtain, letting him see me naked. The water droplets rolling down my body. Rip just clicks his tongue then leaves as I'm wrapping my towel around me.

Kayce is driving, Rip is in the passenger seat, and I'm in the back. Whispering to the songs on the radio. "Can you shut the fuck up?" Rip snaps at me unexpectedly. "Excuse me? No offense Mr. Wheeler, but if you're so god damn annoyed by me, why did YOU hire me? You need to pull that wild hair out your ass and talk to me like a god damn adult and not just be a dick to me. Cause I sure as hell dont know what I've done to piss you off." He just scoffs and looks out the window the rest of the trip. Kayce shoots me a bewildered look through the rearview mirror, I shrug in return. The air and the people in the truck are tense the rest of the way. And even after we get back to the ranch.

A few days have passed, Lloyd keeps trying to get me to talk to Rip. Apparently since my "blow up", he's been choppin at his bit and gettin on everyone's ass for little things. "And I mean shit, he looked damn near ready to punch Jimmy after he dropped the bottle of wound dust.". Ryan just looks at me. "What did you say?". Teeter repeats it all back to him slowly and sarcastically. "Nobody hear can understand yall. You're southerners, we're not." Ryan replies emphatically. "She's saying that I've been a dick to everyone and I'm sorry" Rip says from the doorway, startling us who had out backs to him. "Can I speak to (Y/n) alone?" People started to get out of their chairs, grumbling. Instead I stood up and headed out the front door of the bunkhouse. Rip catches up with me quickly, damn his long legs. "C'mon. We're going to my room to speak.".

"Sit. Explain." I tell him and point to the bed. I start undressing and changing into sleep clothes. "First of all, I'm sorry." He trails off, but I dont want him to have time to think of an excuse. "Sorry about?". I egg on. "I'm sorry for being a massive jerk. I saw something I shouldn't have and its been bothering me.". I sit next to him, big baggy shirt and short shorts. "Saw somethin you shouldn't've? Rip, you're one guy I know that's seen everythin. To say you've seen somethin you shouldn't've scares me I'm gonna be honest.". He just chuckles, he takes his cowboy hat and jacket off, setting them on an adjacent rocking chair. He sits facing me. "Look. What I'm about to tell you is serious, and I hope you don't look at me differently. It was an accident, I promise." "Just spit it out Rip, you're legit scarin me right now.". I laugh nervously. "2 weeks ago I was coming up the stairs, it was late but John needed to talk to Kayce and I. Well...as I'm passing your room, I decided to check up on you. See if you were doin alright. And well what I saw was...you...naked, with a vibrator and well...you- you uh..were saying my name. A lot-" "okay! I get it." I interrupted. A couple beats of silence passed. I finally mustered up the courage to ask him what I've been wanting to since I watched him leave my doorway two weeks ago. "I know. I saw you leave. I was hoping you didnt see anything. Kinda...ruined my orgasm" I huffed out awkwardly but he just laughed. "Did you like what you saw?" I asked, hiding my stupidly red face. I felt his hand grasp my chin lightly. "Look at me darlin'. You are the most beautiful creature on this god forsaken earth I have ever seen. Clothes on or not." His smile spread ear to ear. It was beautiful. Watching this man who's life hasn't spared mercy to was like watching the sunset from the biggest mountain on the ranch. Breathtaking. We leaned in for a kiss but someone clearing their throat stopped us. "Uuuugh, WHAT?-- Oh. Hi dad." I get up to go talk to him. "Hey baby girl, how'd the auction go today?" "It was good, uhm. We're talking about something important, can what you have to talk about wait till tomorrow?" I ask, hoping he'd say yes it could wait and take my time and run away into the sunset with the man I've loved since I first set eyes on him. "I've gotta talk to Rip, honey. But I'll return him as soon as we're done." Dad smiles at me but eyes say that he's sorry. "Okay, that's alright.". Rip kisses my head as he walks past me. "I'll be back for my things darlin, don't you worry.".

#Yellowstone #rip wheeler #rip x reader #fluuuuuf #rip wheeler x reader #i fucking love him

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griffintail · 3 years

Text

Blow Us All Away

Pairings: Parental! Wilbur x F! Reader

Warnings: Blood Mention, Duel, Death

A/N: This is literally all over the SMP timeline the basic thing is Revivebur or Ghostbur didn't happen and L'Manberg is still a standing country. This is an idea I randomly had for my Lost Ones character Little Star and decided to just write it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meet the latest graduate of King's College

I prob'ly shouldn't brag, but, dag, I amaze and astonish

The scholars say I got the same virtuosity and brains as my pops

The gents say my brain's not where the resemblance stops

I'm only nineteen but my mind is older

Gotta be my own person, like my father, but bolder

I shoulder his legacy with pride, I used to hear him say

That someday I would blow us all away!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/N) was always proud to consider herself Wilbur’s daughter. She had his fire and brains. He taught her his talents of music and she was able to learn with ease. She’d walk around with pride with her L’Manberg uniform, wearing and bearing her titles with pride.

The daughter of the nation’s president and a soon-to-be cabinet member. Her father was confident she could do just about anything and would most certainly succeed him with ease once she got older.

Today though, she was a lady on a mission. She had her uniform on as always but she had her hands behind her back, a serious look plastered onto her face. Ahead on her walk down the prime path, she spotted Niki and Eret talking.

“Ladies, I'm lookin for a Ms. Wastaken. Made a speech last week, our peace talk speaker. She disparaged my father's legacy in front of a crowd. I can't have that; I'm making my father proud.” (Y/N) stopped in front of the pair explain herself.

“I saw her just up Broadway a couple of blocks, she was goin' to see a play,” Eret told the girl.

“Well, I'll go visit her box.” (Y/N) tipped her hat before going to the stage in the SMP land.

As (Y/N) got to the stage, there was currently being a play put on people she didn’t know but that didn’t matter to her right now. She was a lady on a mission. In the high seats sat the daughter of Dream and that was her goal.

“Terror!” (Y/N) came forward in front of her seat.

“Shh!” Terror didn’t even look at her.

“Terror!”

“Shh, I'm tryin' to watch the show!”

“Ya shoulda watched your mouth before you talked about my father though!”(Y/N) protested as the other finally looked at her.

Around them, the crowd had become less interested in the play as they watched the far more interesting events in front of them.

“I didn't say anything that wasn't true. Your father's a coward, and so, it seems, are you.”

(Y/N) gave a short laugh as she watched her. “It's like that?”

“Yeah, I don't fool around, I'm not your little school girl friends.”

“Well, see you on the dueling ground! That is unless you wanna step outside and go now!”(Y/N) challenged with spread arms.

“I know where to find you, piss off, I'm watchin' this show now.” Terror once more didn’t look at the other woman on the ground.

(Y/N) clenched her jaw but stormed off. She’d show her! She’d win that duel and Terror would…

She stopped near Tubbo’s old house realizing what she had just done. That’s one thing Wilbur had never taught her; she didn’t know how to fight. They were a peaceful nation that didn’t need to fight. They used their words and she just signed herself up to use weapons.

“Fuck.” She muttered as she looked around.

She tended to overstep herself when it came to standing for her father, but this time she’d stepped too far. She didn’t know what to do, she needed help. There was no way she’d let Wilbur know what she did, but she knew one person that would keep a secret and she took off. Stopping outside the odd building, she knocked on the door and after a few moments, the fox hybrid opened the door, tail flicking seeing his sister.

“(Y/N), hey. What’s up?” Fundy asked, moving to let her.

“Fundy, I challenged Terror to a duel.” She admitted immediately as she walked in.

“You what?!” His fur puffed up as he closed his door hurriedly. “Why would you do that?!”

“It just slipped! She talked shit about dad Fundy! Fundy, if you had only heard the shit, she said about him; I doubt you would have let it slide and I was not about to!” She threw her hands up as she paced.

“Slow down.” Fundy tried to calm her as he took her shoulders.

“I came to ask you for advice, this is my very first duel. They don't exactly cover this subject in L’Manberg.” She sighed.

“Did your friends attempt to negotiate a peace?”

“She refused to apologize, we had to let the peace talks cease.”

“Where is this happening?”

“Across the river, in Las Nevadas.”

“Everything is legal in Las Nevadas.” They both nodded.

“Alright, so this is what you're gonna do. Stand there like proud until Terror is in front of you. When the time comes, fire your weapon in the air. This will put an end to the whole affair.”

“But what if she decides to shoot? Then I'm a goner.”

“No, she'll follow suit if she's truly a woman of honor. To take someone's life, that is something you can't shake (Y/N), our father can't take another heartbreak.” He muttered, looking away for a moment, as he thought of everything that happened recently.

Their father was certainly having a hard time with all of it and they both knew it but (Y/N) didn’t just want to stand there. That felt like proving Terror right.

“Fundy!” She protested.

“Promise me.” He looked back at her as he thought about the war. “You don't want this young woman's blood on your conscience.”

She hesitated before sighing as she nodded. “Okay, I promise.”

“Come back home when you're done.” Fundy patted her shoulder before going to his weapons chest and pulling out his old bow and handed it to her. “Take my bow, be smart, make me proud, sis.”

(Y/N) took the bow, staring at it before nodding. Putting it on her back, she took a deep breath before leaving Fundy’s home and went towards Las Nevadas.

“My name is (Y/N). I am a musician. And I'm a little nervous, but I can't show it. I'm sorry, I'm a Soot with pride. You talk about my father; I cannot let it slide.” She sang to herself the familiar beat she knew.

Before she knew it, she was in Las Nevadas and Terror was standing there with a few souls that had seen from the play to watch how this act ended and a few faces she recognized that must have heard about the duel about to occur. She just hoped her father hadn’t heard how she wasn’t using her words.

“Terror, how was the rest of your show?” (Y/N) asked as she came forward.

“I'd rather skip the pleasantries, let's go.” Terror told her, moving her mask from the side of her face to the front. “Grab your bow.”

(Y/N) nodded as she took off the bow. “Confer with your men. The duel will commence after we count to ten.”

(Y/N) went to her position as everyone started to shift with excitement and nervousness. A few citizens from Las Nevadas had become curious and came to see.

“Look 'em in the eye, aim no higher.” (Y/N) muttered to herself as she gripped onto the bow. “Summon all the courage you require. Then slowly and clearly aim your bow towards the sky.”

The counting started and they began to take their paces.

One, two, three.

(Y/N) pulled the string back and aimed it up.

Four, five, six.

Before most of the crowd could react, Terror turned on her heel with her bowstring pulled back.

Seven.

And the bowstring was released and (Y/N) let out a cry as she fell to the ground. Blood was already starting to quickly pour as Terror scoffed.

“And now that’s done.” Terror said, walking away as a few people went to help the other.

Everything was blurry for (Y/N). Everything seemed so fast but so slow. She didn’t know what was happening, she didn’t know where she was. All she could feel was pain and dizziness consuming her. She didn’t even hear as there was a call on the walkie about what happened as Foolish carried her to a cleaner location to hopefully heal her.

Fundy’s blood went cold when he heard the call on the radio and bolted for Las Nevadas. He demanded to know where his little sister was and once he found out where she was, he booked it for there too.

~~~~~~~~

Stay Alive

~~~~~~~~

Fundy made it to Foolish had brought her and was ready to barge his way through every room to find her when Foolish stepped out.

“Where's my sister?” Fundy demanded.

“Fundy, come in, I brought her in a half an hour ago. She lost a lot of blood on the way over.” Foolish explained to him.

“Is she alive?” Fundy felt the tears in his eyes.

“Yes, but you have to understand. The arrow entered just above her hip and lodged in her right arm.”

“Can I see her please?”

“I'm doing everything I can but the wound was already infected when she arrived.” Foolish told him as he hesitantly led him to where (Y/N) was.

“(Y/N)!” Fundy rushed to her side, gently putting a hand on her forehead as Foolish let them be.

The pain had started to numb and (Y/N) could vaguely see her brother as she was able to hear him clearly.

“Fundy. I did exactly as you said, Fundy. I held my head up high.”

“I know, I know, shh.”

“High—” (Y/N) tried to continue but stumbled over her words.

“I know, I know, shh. I know you did everything just right.” Fundy assured her as tears spilled from his eyes.

“Even before we got to ten.” She needed to explain what happened, she needed him to know even as he gently shushed her. “I was aiming for the sky. I was aiming for the sky.”

“I know, I know, shh. I know, save your strength and stay alive.” Fundy pleaded with her as his ears went flat and his tail wrapped around his leg.

That’s when Fundy heard furious and upset shouting. Fundy squeezed his eyes shut as he knew one of those voices by heart and sure enough, not a moment later Wilbur came bursting through the door.

Wilbur’s heart had dropped the moment he heard about (Y/N) being injured. His little star…He didn’t know what happened, but he sprinted as fast as he could towards the country of Las Nevadas, demanding answers. His little girl had been in a duel…

The other side had been cheap and shot her before they even got to ten. And his daughter, his little star, his (Y/N), had aimed her bow towards the sky. When she made it out of this, he’d let her know how proud he was of her.

Yet, now he stood in the doorway, seeing his daughter barely together, a small bit of blood still collecting around her…

“No!” Wilbur shouted as he rushed over, Fundy moving back to let their father be by her side.

“Dad,” Fundy muttered.

“Is she breathing? Is she going to survive this?” Wilbur looked towards Foolish, who stood quietly at the door, before Wilbur looked at Fundy. “Who did this, Fundy, did you know?”

“Dad.”Wilbur looked at his daughter and took her hand carefully and put his forehead on hers as he teared up. “I'm so sorry for forgetting what you taught me.”

“My daughter.”Wilbur choked up as he squeezed her hand, Fundy putting a hand over his mouth behind them.

“We played guitar.”

“I taught you guitar.”

“You would put your hands on mine.”

“You changed the melody every time.” Wilbur laughed quietly at the memory as tears were pouring down his cheeks.

“I would always change the line.” (Y/N) muttered as her grip started to weaken.

“Shh, I know, I know.” Wilbur shushed her gently as his grip only went tighter.

“I would always change the line.”

“I know, I know.” He had to keep her awake and talking if she stopped…! “Un-deux-trois-quatre-cinq-six-sept-huit-neuf.”

“Un-deux-trois-quatre-cinq-six-sept-huit-neuf.” (Y/N) repeated quietly.

“Good. Un-deux-trois-quatre-cinq-six-sept-huit-neuf.”

“Un-deux-trois…” She repeated partially with him before her eyes began to droop then closed.

“Sept-huit-neuf. Sept-huit—” Wilbur pleaded before he let out a sob as she didn’t respond.

Fundy sobbed as well as she was gone…

#wilbur soot x reader #mcyt reader insert #mcyt oneshots #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x reader #dreamsmp x reader

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datleggy · 3 years

Note

Let’s take “birth day” literally and have pregnant Buck go into labor someplace really dumb and/or inconvenient.

It's the hormones, Buck would like to say in his defense, but honestly, the omega would have done it even if he weren't nearly nine months pregnant....

The doctor's told him some light exercise will help, even with his due date being so close now, and so after picking Christopher up from school they'd decided to take a nice stroll in the park.

And it would have been nice if some asshole hadn't put his hands on his kid on the goddamn playground of all places! One minute Buck had been struggling to get up off the bench to see why it looked as though Christopher was in a seemingly heated argument over something or the other, with another little boy around his age, and the next said boy's mother was shoving Christopher away with a sharply pointed nail, poking at his shoulder and shouting obscenities.

And Buck was there in a flash, putting himself between Christopher and the woman and telling her to back off. "You don't touch someone else's kid like that, lady. If you have a problem, you come find me."

The woman looks flustered for a moment before raising her voice again, yelling about how she had barely even touched the eight year old, and about how maybe he shouldn't bring his son around other kids if he couldn't learn to play nice. "If you taught that boy some manners we wouldn't even be here right now!"

Buck knows he should have let it go, knows they were causing a huge and unnecessary scene, and this? This next part he totally blames on the hormones. "If your parents had taught you some manners and common sense we wouldn't be here right now!"

And that had only served to escalate the situation to the point where police had actually been called and arrived on the scene--and apparently the woman had been very convincing when she'd burst into tears and told the cops that Buck had threatened her with violence.

Which is how Buck ends up in a jailcell on a sunny Friday afternoon, waiting for Eddie to come and bail him out and worrying frantically about Christopher, who last he saw, as they'd cuffed him and put him into the back of their vehicle, was currently in the custody of a child services worker.

Buck puts his head in his hands and groans, beyond stressed. Not only is this humiliating as all hell, but his alpha is probably going to kill him for letting this shit happen. He should have ignored the woman and walked away with Christopher in tow. Instead, he'd made it worse and gotten arrested for an assault he hadn't even committed. "Jesus Christ."

"Buckley? Evan Buckley?" An officer calls out; he's older, maybe mid fifties, with a faint Southern drawl.

Buck raises his head. He'd only called Eddie fifteen minutes ago, was he really here that quickly? "Uh, yeah, that's me." he says.

"You're free to go; luckily a bunch of witnesses came forward with the same story--you weren't the aggressor here, son. Now c'mon, your kid's waiting for you right outside."

"Oh thank God." he breaths out, immeasurably relieved. But when he attempts to stand up Buck lets out a hiss and doubles over, face contorting in pain.

The officers eyes go wide and he rushes to open the cell, which is nearly empty, thankfully, except for Buck and a slumbering man in the corner, arrested that morning for public intoxication. "Whoa, whoa," the man's eyes go even wider, if possible, when he realizes what's happening. "Shoot, I think your water just broke, young man."

Buck shakes his head, even though the proof is on the bench and soaking his jeans through and through. He whines as the contraction continues, huffing and puffing. "H-hospital. Please." He pleads.

There is no way he's having this baby while still technically in custody at a police station. Hell, they're in a jailcell, for shit's sake. He'd rather give birth like a total cliché and in the back of a yellow taxi!

"I'm gonna have 'em call you an ambulance, but let's get you outta here first." the officer tries to help Buck stand but another contraction hits, this one harder and more agonizing than the last and Buck cries out, his knees buckling under him.

The officer manages to hold him aloft just long enough to reposition him on the floor as Buck pants and tries not to lose it. The contractions are way too close...

The officer radios his men and calls for help. "Need help in the holding cell on floor 2B, we've got a custodial here who's gone into labor. Urgent request for help in holding cell 2B."

Buck can't help but let out a sob--it's even worse than he'd imagined--he's going to end up giving birth inside a jailcell five feet away from some guy who smells like tequila and regret. Alone.

"What the hell is going on in--Buck?!"

Buck sniffles as he turns his head towards the door, where Athena is standing, mouth agape at the chaotic scene before her. "Athena!" he cries, reaching out for her, needy as can be and not giving a damn.

Athena doesn't waste any time, dropping to her knees beside him, letting him rest his head on her lap. She sooths back his curly locks, now sweaty, and look at the officer, asking sharply, "What happened?"

"He was being released when he went into labor--must be from the stress of the situation. Tried to get him up, but that baby's comin' and soon." he informs her, grimacing when Buck whines in pain as another contraction follows his statement, as if to prove the mans words true.

"Eddie," Buck clenches his teeth, tries to stifle another groans. "Need Eddie."

"He's right outside," Athena tells him, reassuringly. She nods at the officer. "Reyes, get me Eddie Diaz, he's a medic and he should be waiting down on the first floor for us. Hurry!"

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

Eddie's at the grocery store picking stuff up for dinner tonight when he gets the unexpected call. He almost doesn't answer it, when he sees it's from an unfamiliar number, thinking it's spam, but something nags at him to take the call.

"Hello?"

"Hey..."

It's Buck. And he sounds upset.

"Buck? What's going on? Everything alright? Who's phone are you using?"

He can hear Buck gulp from the other end of the line. "I've been arrested. I need you to come bail me out and get Christopher out of police custody." he says, all in one rushed statement, like he'd ripping off a band aid.

"Wha--I'm sorry, what? Did you say you're in jail? And Christopher's with the police? What the hell is going on?" Eddie's not proud of the way he raises his voice, especially not in the fruit aisle, where a mother with her toddler gives him a dirty look on her way past, but he's so shocked and panicked he can't stop himself from blurting out, "Buck, what the fuck happened? You were picking Christopher up from school today! Where does jail fit into this?!"

"Eddie, I'm sorry." Buck sighs. "I swear I'll explain everything when you get here, but I don't have a lot of time left on this call and I'm kind of freaking out right now. Please, can you just--"

"Of course, yeah, sorry, I'm on my way, give me like twenty minutes, ok? I'm across town."

"Thank you." the line cuts off abruptly and Eddie's left to ponder what could possibly have happened to have led up to his almost nine months pregnant husband being arrested as he abandons his cart and runs out into the parking lot.

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

Eddie nearly gets arrested himself, with the way he's speeding down the highway before turning onto the main road and parking right in front of the station, where only police vehicles are allowed.

The alpha finds his kid with a social worker, happily munching on a donut. “Chris!?” Eddie runs over and engulfs his son in a suffocating hug. “Are you ok? What happened?”

Christopher pulls away slightly, nodding. “I’m ok. Bucky got in trouble ‘cause the lady at the park lied. Officer Reyes said he’s gonna bring him out soon.”

The social worker explains the whole story to Eddie, “Thankfully there were a lot of witnesses who corroborated the events. Your husband should be out in a few minutes; it was all just an awful misunderstanding. The woman at the park is in custody right now for giving the police a false accusation and wasting everybody’s time.”

Eddie’s shoulders slump in relief and he practically falls into a chair nearby, pulling Christopher onto his lap and holding him tight around the middle. “Is he ok? Buck is pregnant. He’s due in two weeks.”

The social worker gives him a sympathetic look. “I’m sure he’s in good hands. Officer Reyes will have him out here in a couple of minutes.”

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

After a couple of minutes turns to five, turns to ten, Eddie starts to get angsty. Which is why it’s a good thing, when he happens to spot Athena rounding the corner and into the station. He calls over to her and she furrows her brows in concern before making her way across to them.

“Eddie? Christopher? What’s going on?”

“It’s a long story.” Eddie sighs, “But Buck is being held in a cell right now, they said an officer Reyes was supposed to bring him down here, that he was free to go, but that was forever ago,” he exaggerates. “Can you please find out what’s taking so long?”

“Of course.”

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

Buck sobs openly when his alpha enters the room, “Eddie!” he calls out desperately.

Athena holds Buck close and looks up. “He’s in labor. Contractions are less than a minute apart. He needs to start pushing.”

Eddie doesn’t hesitate, though his brain feels like it’s about to short circuit if even one more insane thing happens within these twenty four hours. He drops between Buck’s knees and reaches out to squeeze his hand. “Hey, I’m here, I’m here, you’ve got this, ok? Cause I’ve got you.”

“I’m scared.” Buck admits, tears sliding down face, and he’s shaking like a leaf, terrified that something will go wrong. “I don’t--” he groans pitifully against another contraction. “Don’t wanna have her in here.”

“I know baby, I know, but she’s coming now, Buck. She’s not gonna wait for us to make it to a hospital. She’s impatient,” Eddie kisses his hand, squeezing again, comfortingly. “Just like you.”

Buck huffs. “No, like you. Y-you never wait for your soup to cool down.”

“My Tia’s sopa is worth the burnt tongue.” Eddie plays along, trying to distract him from the pain. “Baby, I need you to push, ok? I know this isn’t how we pictured any of this, but it’s time.”

Buck nods through the tears and steels himself.

“Good, good, now push, c’mon, you can do this. I’m right here.”

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

“You look handsome in your mugshot.” Eddie tells Buck, staring at the photo he asked Athena to send him on his phone.

Buck glares at the alpha. “Funny.”

Eddie leans down to kiss the frown off his face. “Sorry, too soon?”

Buck turns the other way in bed with an annoyed huff. “You’re on baby night duty for the rest of the week.” he shuts the lamp light off and then the room is dim with just the moon peaking in through their blinds.

“Hey,” Eddie sits up, tilting his head. It’s been over a month since the incident, and sure, it hadn’t been pleasant, but Buck and their baby had made it through just fine, health intact, and in the hospital Buck hadn’t seemed too phased after the ordeal, mostly content with Christopher and the baby curled up against and on him. “That was a stupid joke, I’m sorry.”

Buck gulps. He’s being way too sensitive about this. Everything turned out alright and shortly after the whole thing had passed Chimney had even teased him that of course only Buck would have bad enough luck to end up giving birth in a holding cell. And Buck had laughed it off.

Mostly because he’d been relieved.

And then of course with the new baby the last month has been a whirlwind of constant activity, of making sure all her needs are met, of making sure Christopher’s not feeling neglected, of debating on when he should start thinking about going back to work and--

Eddie’s heart leaps when he hears Buck’s sharp intake of breath. “Buck?”

Buck sits up now, too, swiping miserably at the tears that suddenly won’t stop falling. “Sorry, I--ignore me. I didn’t--” he sniffles. “I haven’t really thought about that day since--everything’s been so busy with--you know?--and--” he cuts himself off with a choked off sob. “It’s the hormones.”

It’s been four weeks now and his hormones from the pregnancy are still driving him every which way and he feels ridiculous right now, crying over something he should have processed a month ago already.

Eddie wraps his arms around Buck and pulls him between his legs and against his chest. “Let it out.” he says. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Buck curls into Eddie and releases all emotion he hadn’t realized he’d been keeping all pent up inside. The fear, the anguish--Buck lets himself be held, coddled, loved.

It feels good.

After he’s cried for what feels like ages Buck rests the side of his head on Eddie’s shoulder and exhales. “You know Christopher wanted to name her Tuubee?” he murmurs.

Eddie, who’s rubbing up and down his husbands back, pauses a moment. “’Tuubee’?” he repeats.

Buck half smirks against his shoulder. “Two B. The cell where she was born.”

#911 fox #bday drabble #long post is long #thanku for the prompt! :)#buddie #mpreg #hurt/comfort

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thewidowsghost · 3 years

Text

The Temple - Pt. 2 (Skye x Coulson!Reader)

Main Masterlist

Part 1: The Temple (Skye x Avenger!Coulson!Reader)

Previously on The Temple:

The elder Coulson reaches up, brushing a piece of hair behind Skye's ear in a fatherly fashion.

"I'm so sorry. I'm gonna make it right. I'm gonna find the Obelisk."

"No," Coulson murmurs hoarsely.

"I'm gonna stop the drill. I'm gonna make it right," Skye continues, bolting from the room before (Y/n) can even think.

"Skye, no," Coulson calls. "Don't go down there."

"Dad, I have -" (Y/n) begins.

"Go! Go after her!" the elder Coulson says and (Y/n) jumps to her feet, glancing between the doorway Skye had gone through, and her father lying on the ground. "Go!" he yells again, and (Y/n) wipes away her tears, sprinting after Skye.

. . .

There's a metallic grinding nose, and Skye, Trip, (Y/n), and Raina focus on the Obelisk on the pedestal. It opens, revealing crystals and (Y/n) tenses.

"How do we stop it?" Trip asks.

"I don't think we can," (Y/n) says. She turns to Skye, tears welling in her eyes.

Skye grabs the front of (Y/n)'s shirt, pulling (Y/n) closer and kissing her.

"I love you," both young women whisper at the same time; the two focus back on the Obelisk.

Skye exhales heavily as the chamber trembles.

. . .

"And Skye and (Y/n) barely made it out alive! (Y/n) hasn't even woken up yet!" Mack shouts.

"Thanks to Trip! He sacrificed his life, Mack!" May counters.

"No, he traded his life for theirs!" Mack yells. "And then he was shattered into a thousand pieces!"

"That's enough!" the Elder Coulson yells. "If Trip was here, he wouldn't be arguing. He would't be bitching. He would be gearing up to do what needs to be done." Skye looks horrified at the can that had been trembling, and looking around, she sees her girlfriend curled up in the floor in a corner, her hands pressed over her ears. Skye crosses the containment module and sits down next to where is sitting on the other side of the glass. "Yes, we're dealing with forces we don't understand, but HYDRA I do understand. I want everyone ready when the sun comes up - end of discussion."

Everyone else leaves the room and Skye murmurs, loud enough for (Y/n) to hear. "(Y/n), what's happening to us?"

. . .

"The Avengers wouldn't have been necessary if we hadn't unleashed alien horrors," Simmons cuts Skye off again.

(Y/n)'s eyes had gone cold. "Go," she says bitterly, turning away from the scientist.

"But -" Simmons tries but (Y/n) turns back to her.

"There's always danger, Simmons," (Y/n) snaps, the stirring feeling rising up in her again. "Not everything is something that has to be destroyed or -" (Y/n) stops, turning her head away. "Go."

. . .

There are metallic crashes as pots and pan fall onto the ground and into the sink.

"Skye, (Y/n)? You want to talk to us?" May asks, and the two lover exchange horrified glances.

"Skye, what's doing this?" Coulson asks, his eyes widening.

"I am," Skye admits shakily.

Lady Sif goes to grab Skye's arm, and Skye flinches away, "No." Skye pulls (Y/n) along slightly, removing her hand from (Y/n)'s as she claps them to her forehead.

Skye's fist clenches and the glass behind (Y/n) and Skye explodes.

And, as if in slow motion, (Y/n)'s frame grows larger, towering over Skye.

The grizzly bear wraps it's arms around Skye, protecting the brunette from the shattered glass.

"Hand them over," Lady Sif orders and the elder Coulson and May pull out their hand guns, moving in front of the two younger women. "It will be safer for all of you."

. . .

A sword tip is stabbed through the wall.

"Agent May, release the girls!" Lady Sif orders.

"May, she'll get through," Skye whispers.

"Ignore it. Remember - focus," May says.

"I can't," Skye breathes as Lady Sif breaks the barrier.

May steps back and Skye grabs the agent's ICER, shooting herself with the gun. The rumbling stops and (Y/n) turns to her unconscious girlfriend.

"Skye," (Y/n) whispers, fear spiking through her. "Skye!"

"She harmed herself," Lady Sif says, staring at (Y/n) and Skye, her eyes wide.

(Y/n) pulls her unconscious girlfriend closer to her, her eyes wide.

. . .

"A right to know," Fitz echoes. "What - is that the same way that Sif and the Kree had a right to know?"

"I think this situation's a little bit different, mate," Hunter responds.

"No, you would have done to them exactly what Sif and the Kree wanted to," Fitz argues.

"You don't know that," Simmons says.

"Yes, I do know that!" Fitz yells. "They would - You would - You'd 'handle them'! Mack just said it! Like, uh - Skye and (Y/n) are something to be locked away in a cage somewhere. We should be protecting them."

"No, Fitz," Mack interupts. "We're the ones that need protection from them." Then Mack goes silent, looking over Simmons's shoulder.

Fitz and Simmons turns around, and five SHIELD agents catch sight of (Y/n) and Skye - (Y/n) supporting Skye's weight.

Skye looks into the room, looks away, and then she and (Y/n) start back down the hallway, a disgusted look on (Y/n)'s face, and a large dufflebag thrown over (Y/n)'s other shoulder.

Fitz looks between the other for SHIELD agents, and then follows (Y/n) and Skye.

"Skye. (Y/n)," Fitz calls down the hall, but the two women keep making their way down the hallway.

The two make their way into the BUS, entering the containment module.

"You don't have to stay," Skye tells (Y/n).

"You know I'm not going anywhere, love," (Y/n) murmurs, sitting down beside Skye on the small bed. "Please, rest," (Y/n) says softly lying down on her side and lifting an arm so Skye can cuddle up to her. "We'll figure out something," (Y/n) murmurs. I hope . . .

3rd Person POV

Skye leans over a bowl, dipping a piece of her grilled cheese into her tomato soup.

"I got to say, Director, no doubt, this is the best grilled cheese I've ever had," Skye says, humming in contentment.

"Other times, I'd be offended, but I agree," (Y/n) says, looking appreciatively at her father as she stuffs another mouthful of grilled cheese in her mouth. "Isth really gud," (Y/n) says, her mouth full and Skye looks slightly disgusted.

"Secret ingredient," the Elder Coulson asks.

"Ooh, what is it?" (Y/n) asks, having swallowed her mouthful.

"I will not disclose," (Y/n)'s dad replies, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Skye laughs and her spoon lets out a little chime against her bowl, setting it aside before nestling herself into (Y/n)'s side.

(Y/n) hums contentedly, shoving more grilled cheese in her mouth.

"How are you doing with all the monitoring?" Coulson asks gently.

"I barely notice it," Skye lies.

"We wouldn't subject you to it if it wasn't absolutely necessary," Coulson tells her.

"I assume you're putting us on the gifted index," (Y/n) guesses.

"We are," Coulson the Elder nods.

Skye sighs, looking slightly regretful. "I've been doing some monitoring of my own," she says. "Check this out," she shows the older Coulson her bio-meter watch which shows her heart rate at sixty-five beats per minute. "My entire life, I've been searching for my parents and my search ended with answers that are so much worse than I could've imagined," Skye admits and (Y/n)'s gaze softens and she sets down her grilled cheese, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend. "Sad, twitchy, not-all-there Dad, a dead Mom, alien mist that turned me into a walking natural disaster, a friend dead -"

(Y/n)'s eyes cloud with pain. The Avenger had always been close to Trip, and his death made that so, so much worse.

"Hey," the Elder Coulson says softly, coming over to sit beside (Y/n) and Skye on the small bed. "Trip was not your fault."

"My point is, I'm steady. Nothing is shaking," Skye tells Coulson, looking slightly proud of herself. "I'm stopping them before they start."

"That's good," Coulson replies, looking happier than he just had.

"If I keep working on this, I can be back in the field in no time," Skye says excitedly.

(Y/n) squeezes Skye, happy for her girlfriend's excitement.

. . .

"She's acting like everything will go back to normal," Coulson tells May a little later, pulling Skye's and (Y/n)'s files to add them to the SHIELD Gifted Index.

"That's what Skye does," May says. "Do they know they're being put on the Index?" May asks.

"They do," Coulson replies. "They both do seem to be getting control of their powers."

"That's good," May admits. "But we barely understand them - other than they're strong."

"Catastrophically so," Coulson agrees, referring to Skye's powers.

"Protocol is, anyone on the Index undergoes a full psych eval and a treat assessment," May reminds Coulson.

"We'd need to bring in someone from outside," Coulson remarks.

"Someone we can trust," May agrees.

. . .

"I think it's so cool," Skye remarks, looking at (Y/n) the Husky admiringly, "that you can turn into animals."

"Are you kidding me?" (Y/n) asks, shifting back into herself, her eyes gleaming lovingly. "What about your powers?"

Skye smiles at her girlfriend, cuddling into her side, listening to the radio. (Y/n) wraps her arms around Skye's waist.

youtube

"Hey, look what a hello from a stranger turned into / Caught up in a moment like it's just us in this room / All the right words at the right time and you know 'em 'cause you know me / Better than anyone else, we don't need anyone else / There's a couple billion people in the word / And a million other places we could be, but you're here with me / Take a moment just to take it in / 'Cause every high and every low led to this / I'm just so glad you exist / Don't you ever go, don't you ever go, don't you ever go changin' / Never let me go, never let me go, never let me go, baby / Don't you ever to, don't you ever go, don't you ever go changin' / Never let me go, never leg me go, never let me go, baby," (Y/n) sings softly along to the song, swaying her and Skye slightly. "I'm just so glad you exist," (Y/n) murmurs in Skye's ear.

Skye looks up into (Y/n)'s gentle (E/c) eyes.

"I love you," Skye murmurs, pressing her cheek against (Y/n)'s.

"I love you too," (Y/n) replies, her eyes closing in contentment.

"You remember our first mission together?" Skye asks and (Y/n) fixes her gaze on Skye's chocolate brown eyes.

"I do," (Y/n) answers, her eye sparkling

"Yep, you were kicking ass and looking hot while doing it." Skye asks and (Y/n) throws back her head with a laugh. "You were so sweet, too."

Skye is sitting in her bunk on the bus, typing on her laptop.

"Mission brief in five," Coulson says, knocking on the door.

"Okay," Skye mumbles.

"Katherine Shane?" Coulson asks, reading the file off of Skye's laptop.

"Do you know her?" Skye asks, looking interested.

"We ran a few OPs together in the '90s," Coulson tells Skye. "Smart, resourceful. Had a soft spot for Truffaut movies."

"Easy there, charm school," Skye says, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "According to these files, Agent Shane could be my mom," Skye suddenly looks excited.

"Even if Shane was the Agent who dropped you off at the orphanage, it doesn't mean she's your mother."

"I started looking into all the female agents active when I was born," Skye says and Coulson hums. "Needle, haystack, I know. But then I factored in age and marital status, and then I built a program to narrow down the field."

"You're still looking at a long road," Coulson tells Skye gently.

"Well, it would be a lot shorter if I could access more files," Skye tells the agent. "Maybe you could remove my internet nanny?" she then asks. "I'm talking about my tracking bracelet," she clarifies, shaking her wrist.

"I got that," Coulson says, looking down at the brunette.

"So you'll take it off?" Skye asks.

"No, but I asked May to look into SHIELD's more restricted files," Coulson replies.

"Uh, I was kind of hoping to keep this private," Skye murmurs.

"Agent May specializes in private," Coulson tells her gently. "Let's go," Coulson says, walking out of the little room.

. . .

"At 0800 hours, three men infiltrated the Havenworth Federal Penitentiary," Coulson tells the others - Fitz, Simmons, Ward, May, and Skye.

"Infultrated? More like cannon-balled," Skye says softly.

"They were in and out in less than two minutes," Coulson goes on. "Left no prints at the scene, but we do have one lead."

Coulson swipes up, and the computer beeps, and there is an image projected on the screen.

"Centipede," Ward says, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Seems they salvaged some of their research from Hong Kong," Coulson tells the group.

"So we were right," Simmons says, and Fitz turns to look at his friend. "Chan's platelets solved their combustion problem. Now they can create super soldiers with no fear of explosion."

"Maybe don't get so excited about it," Fitz murmurs to Simmons.

"Two of Centipede's labs have been destroyed, but they keep popping back up," Coulson says. "Now they have at least three of these guys, maybe more."

"Who did they break out?" May asks, her brow furrowing.

"Edison Po, former Marine," Coulson replies. "Expert in tactics and rapid response. He fell off the grid in '08, reappeared eighteen months ago at a diner in Boston."

"Where he stabbed a friend's eyes out," Ward grumbles.

"With a steak knife, then finished his meal," Coulson finishes, glancing at Ward.

"That's funny. Po doesn't look crazy," Skye remarks and everyone looks at her.

"I'm kidding," Skye says, looking exasperated. "The guy is a walking mug shot."

"Which means he shouldn't be too hard to track down," Coulson agrees. "Finding Po and these Centipede soldiers is a top priority for SHIELD. We'll be running point, but we won't be working alone," Coulson tells the others.

"What team did HQ send for backup?" Ward asks, looking suspicious.

"Not a team -" Coulson says, his lips twitching. "Two people. One who is skilled in combat - trained by SHIELD's finest. And one who can help us fight fire with fire -" Coulson begins.

"Somebody we worked with before?" Skye asks.

"Not exactly," Coulson says.

. . .

Mike Peterson exits the SHIELD vehicle, another figure who looks like she's being harassed by a blond archer and a redhead nearby.

"Don't make me flatten you, Clinty," the younger of the three says, pointing at the man and the archer backs off, looking slightly horrified.

"Bye, you," the redhead grumbles, pulling her former apprentice into a hug.

"Nat!" the younger woman complains. "You're squishing my head!"

"This was a bad idea," May comments, looking between the two figures - the young woman and Mike Peterson.

Natasha Romanoff hands the younger woman a backpack and the women softens, hugging her former mentor one more time before hurrying off to join Mike.

The young woman turns, grinning at Mike, and the older man just shakes his head, amusement evident in his gaze.

"Agent Coulson, Agent May," Mike says, nodding respectfully to the older agents, but the woman just grins.

"Agent Coulson, at your service," the younger Agent Coulson says, faking a serious tone and her father shakes his head.

May just walks away and the elder Coulson turns to Mike.

"Last time you saw here, you threw her into a brick wall," Coulson reminds the super-soldier.

"Right," Mike says, looking uncomfortable. "First time around, I wasn't who I wanted to be," Mike tells the elder Coulson, "but now I get it. Having all this - it's a privilege. And training to be an agent, working with SHIELD, it's me trying to do better, trying to be better," he pauses. "I just need you to give me a shot."

"Everyone deserves a second chance," Coulson says, stepping forward. "But let me be clear - there will not be a third."

Mike dips his head, "Understood, sir."

"Good," Coulson says, glancing at the younger Coulson and turning around; Agent Coulson gets the feeling like she should follow.

. . .

"It's not good. At all," Ward says grimly to the three younger people in the room - Simmons, Fitz, and Skye. "The guy was literally a ticking time bomb - literally."

"HQ wouldn't have sent him if he was still combustible," Fitz reasons. "They must've found a way to stabilize him somehow."

"What about this other person they're sending in. Coulson said he was trained by SHIELD's finest, and yet none of us know who it is?" he questions. "Just saying, this could easily go sideways. Seriously, the last time we saw Peterson, he was a raging homicidal maniac -" Ward pauses, the other three looking behind him. "He's standing right behind me, isn't he?" Ward asks.

"Mr. Peterson, this is Agent Grant Ward," Coulson says, and the others wonder why Coulson hadn't introduced the pretty young woman standing behind him. "He's the man who shot you at Union Station." Ward looks uncomfortable and an amused expression flashes across the new woman's face. "Fitz-Simmons," the two scientists wave at the super-soldier, "designed the weapon he used, and I think you remember -" Coulson gestures to Skye.

"Kidnap victim," Skye says, looking happy and the unknown woman is slightly confused.

Mike chuckles. "You joined SHIELD?" he asks.

"Yeah. Turns out, guys in suits - not so bad," Skye says with a grin.

"Look, I know Union Station could have gone another way," Mike says, looking uncomfortable again. "Another team might not have let me out of there alive. I owe you - all of you."

"That's bygones and water under a distant bridge far away," Skye says and unknown woman fixes her gaze on the brunette, studying her, and Skye looks back, her lips twitching in a smile. "How's your son?" Skye asks, turning back to Mike.

"Still with my sister. He thinks I'm working construction, but he's good, happy," Mike answers, smiling.

"So, what do we have?" Coulson asks.

"An unintroduced agent," the new woman says and there is a laugh from everyone in the room.

"Right," Coulson says, glaring at the younger woman. "This is (Y/n) Coulson, my daughter."

The other agents cast their gazes onto the tall young woman and (Y/n) looks unenthuiastically at her father.

"So, what do we have?" Coulson asks again.

"Not much on Po," Sky replies, tearing her eyes off (Y/n). "I checked his previously known addresses and old military contacts - came up empty."

"We've been looking for where Po might be on the outside," Coulson tells them, (Y/n) leaning against the doorway. "Let's look at his life on the inside - at the prison. See if that gets us any leads. Anything on the Centipede soldiers?"

"We found a facial recog match on one of them," Simmons says and (Y/n) fixes her gaze on the British woman.

"Name's Brian Hayward," Ward says, pressing a button on the debriefing table. "Stationed in Afghanistan for three years, then fell off the radar when he got back."

"Only living relative - sister, Laura -" Skye begins and (Y/n) pipes up.

"I know a Laura," (Y/n) says and Coulson glares at his daughter as the others laugh.

Skye shakes her head, looking amused, before continuing, "Sophomore at the University of Ohio."

"She's our best shot at finding Hayward," the Elder Coulson says, glancing at the board. "You and I will go talk to her," he nods to Ward. "Have May set a course for Cleveland."

Coulson points at (Y/n) and Mike. "Follow," he says.

"Bye friends," (Y/n) says with a wave, her gaze resting on Skye.

. . .

"Hey," Skye says, scrolling through her laptop, Agent May walking up to the brunette, her normal scowl on her face. "Coulson told me you were helping to, you know, find my long-lost folks, so thanks," Skye says, and (Y/n) remains in the shadows, not wanting to intrude. "I'm glad you're in on this with me. It means a lot."

May scowls even more and Skye swallows thickly.

(Y/n) winces as May says some harsh things to Skye. May leaves Skye alone and (Y/n) steps out of the shadows.

"Hey," (Y/n) says gently and Skye looks up. "Don't take what May said to heart, okay?"

Skye meets (Y/n)'s eyes, and then nods.

"So what did you find?" (Y/n) asks.

. . .

Skye leads (Y/n) and May into the debriefing room.

"Po only had one visitor during his prison stint - her," Skye says and (Y/n) narrows her eyes at the screen.

"Recognize the outfit?" Skye asks. "Miles said a girl in a flowered dress asked him to hack SHIELD. This could be the same girl."

"Can we hear the conversation?" (Y/n) asks Skye.

"That's the bummer," Skye replies. "There was no audio, but it's not a total loss. I was able to use SHIELD's lip-reading program, because we have one of those," Skye chuckles.

"It's so cool, right?" (Y/n) asks.

Skye catches May's scowl and continues, "It didn't work on the girl because she never looks up at the camera, but Po did - once - and it caught this."

Skye presses a button and, "The Clairvoyant doesn't not like to be touched," comes from the screen.

"I wrote that down, so we don't have to hear that again - ever," Skye says and (Y/n) looks disgusted.

"The Clairvoyant," May says thoughtfully.

"Yeah," Skye says, furrowing her brow. "Does that mean anything to you?"

(Y/n) shakes her head, "But it means something to them - to Po and whoever that woman is."

"Her name's Raina," says a voice and Mike Peterson walks into the room.

"You know her?" Skye asks Mike.

"Yeah, she recruited me for Centipede, came up to me at the hospital where I did my back therapy out of the blue," Mike pauses. "Told me she could change my life."

. . .

An hour or so later, Skye finds (Y/n) by the loading doors of the BUS, the young woman attacking a punching bag.

"Time to suit up," Skye says and (Y/n) looks up, wiping the sweat off her forehead.

"Cool," (Y/n) says, jogging up the stairs. She passes Skye, shooting the brunette a grin, and Skye's cheeks flush.

. . .

(Y/n) suits up in her SHIELD uniform before meeting the others in the loading dock. Her SHIELD uniform was a Royal blue, but was almost exactly like her old mentor - Natasha's - SHIELD uniform, with light blue highlights running down the arms and legs.

"I think it's rather smart," Simmons remarks, looking at Mike's combat suit.

"How does it feel?" Fitz asks.

"Feels good. Comfortable," Mike replies.

"Having powers is cheating, but the suit's pretty cool," Ward remarks.

(Y/n) steps off the last stair, her combat boots making a thunking sound as she steps onto the floor, and Skye turns to look at her.

"Right, now that everyone's here," Coulson glares bemusedly at his daughter. "Hayward's cellphone has been traced to an abandoned factory about eight miles from here."

"We'll go in quiet. Do minimal damage to the facility and the people inside," May tells the others as (Y/n) pulls out her electric batons from her backpack, sliding them up the sleeves of her suit into the little sheaths against her wrists.

Ward, May, you'll go in through the west entrance. Mr. Peterson and I will enter through the loading dock," Coulson tells the group.

"So I guess you're my partner?" (Y/n) says, looking at Skye.

Coulson nods. "You and Skye will go through the main entrance."

(Y/n) dips her head.

"We're doing this just us?" Skye asks. "We've been playing whack-a-mole with these guys since Ward first picked me out of my van. Shouldn't big SHIELD be sending in backup?" she asks.

"Trust me, they already did," Coulson says, looking pointedly at his Avenger daughter. "They sent a super-soldier and an Avenger."

"An Avenger who has to pop an Ibuprofen after every fight," (Y/n) grumbles.

"Let's move," May says, leading Ward from the BUS.

"Take this," Coulson tosses (Y/n) a gun.

"Is the famous Fitz-Simmons ICER?" (Y/n) asks, studying the craftsmanship of the gun. "I'm impressed. It's just the right weight." (Y/n) glances appreciatively at the two scientists. "It's been a while since I've seen a gun this nice. I might be stealing it."

Fitz-Simmons glance at each other then grin at the Avenger.

"Enough fangirling," Coulson says and (Y/n) rolls her eyes.

"All right. All right," (Y/n) replies. "Come on, Skye."

. . .

"Are we alone here?" Coulson asks the group.

"It seems so," (Y/n) answers. "Fitz, dial Hayward's number."

There is a moment's pause, then the sound of a phone dialing.

(Y/n) freezes in front of one of the storage containers.

(Y/n) hears a cellphone ringing and she holds a finger to her mouth so Skye would be quiet.

Flicking her wrists, the batons slide out of their sheaths.

(Y/n) takes the two separate pieces, locking them together.

(Y/n) readies her batons, as the doors to the storage container fly off the hinges.

"Uh, (Y/n), Skye, you've got company," Fitz tells the two women.

"I'd noticed," (Y/n) replies, advancing on Hayward.

The soldier places his hands on the storage container and flings it towards (Y/n) and Skye.

Skye flinches but (Y/n) tackles Skye, pushing her out of the way. (Y/n) rolls, landing on her feet, and Skye, on the ground, levels her own ICER, firing at the soldier.

The soldier falls to the ground and (Y/n) pulls Skye to her feet. Looking down at the soldier, the two women see the dendrotoxin veins leaving his face. Hayward blinks, his eyes refocusing.

"That usually packs a bigger punch," Skye comments, her and (Y/n) stepping back as Hayward rises to his feet.

(Y/n) runs towards the soldier, smacking him across the forehead, and then in the stomach with the other end of the now staff, flooring the soldier with her mentor's favorite move.

"We're heading your way," Coulson tells his daughter.

"Who's doing this?" (Y/n) asks the fallen soldier.

"I don't tell anyone. I promise," the soldier says through gritted teeth.

There is a tiny spark, and the light behind the soldier's eyes goes out.

. . .

"I'm so glad you're here," Simmons greets Dr. Garner. "Especially since it's been well documented that powers can lead to psychological volatility. Not that Skye or (Y/n) are showing any signs. Their vitals currently are steady."

"May I?" Garner asks, looking at the iMac on the desk.

"So, it might be wise to do pharmacological evaluations," Simmons advises. "Dulling Skye's emotions could lessen the destructiveness of her powers - a-a stopgap measure."

"I should probably meet both of them before writing a prescription," Garner says sternly, looking at Simmons with a frown.

"I'll take you to them," May tells her ex-husband

"I appreciate the extensive and thorough debrief, Agent Simmons," Garner says, turning away from Simmons.

. . .

"Are you kidding me? A shrink?" Skye asks, (Y/n) sitting next to her on the cot as usual, a frown evident on the Avenger's face.

"It's not personal," May tells the brunette.

"Hell, it's not personal. It's a shrink," Skye argues and (Y/n) places a gentle hand on Skye's knee.

"It's standard procedure for anyo -" May begins.

Skye cuts her off, "No, I know, but we're not just on the Index. We're also SHIELD agents."

"Exactly. So you know it's non-negotiable," May argues right back.

Skye scoffs, shaking her head.

"Andrew is good, and he's done this before," May says, her tone softening.

"So have I. I grew up in the system," Skye replies. "I've been through enough of these to know that I hate them."

"You'll like this one," May tells Skye.

"Yeah, how do you know that?" Skye replies, focusing her gaze on (Y/n)'s hand resting on her knee.

"Because I was married to him," May answers and Skye looks up, her eyes wide with shock.

"I'm going to make us something to eat," (Y/n) tells Skye once May leaves. "I'm starving," (Y/n) leans over, pressing a soft kiss to Skye's cheek before standing up and walking over to the door. Opening the door, she steps aside to let Andrew into the house.

"Hello, (Y/n)," Andrew greet the young woman.

"Hey," (Y/n) replies with a short wave before leaving the room and making her way into the kitchen inside the Playground.

. . .

(Y/n) looks up from her pan as she notices the pots and pans rattling on the wall.

Skye! she thinks, throwing the hot pan into the sink and unknowingly shifting into a panther, and darting out of the room.

(Y/n)'s powerful shoulder muscles bunch and stretch as she speeds up, a black blur as she streaks past the labs.

(Y/n) charges up the loading doors and up to Skye's room, shifting back into herself.

"Skye! You need to wake up!" (Y/n) exclaims, gently shaking Skye's shoulder.

Skye starts, fixing her gaze on (Y/n)'s (E/c) eyes but then she looks at the door as Dr. Garner, May, Fitz, and Simmons burst into the room.

"Hey. Look at me," (Y/n) reaches out a hand, gently moving Skye's face to look her in the eye. "You need to stop this," (Y/n) kneels down and to her relief, Skye keeps her eyes on (Y/n)'s.

"If she needs a sedative . . ." Simmons begins, but May glares at the scientist.

"You can do it Skye. Just focus," (Y/n) whispers, gazing into Skye's brown eyes.

Skye exhales slowly and the shaking stops.

"No, no. It's good. It's good. It's stopping," Fitz tells Simmons.

Dr. Garner and May exchange a look before fixing their gazes on (Y/n), whose hand is resting on Skye's knee now.

"I'm going to stay," Garner says.

"Come on. Everybody out," May nods.

'Love you,' (Y/n) mouths as she leaves the room, looking back at Skye, and the brunette relaxes, smiling softly.

"May," comes a voice and May looks at her watch, a projection of Coulson appears in her hand. "We need backup."

. . .

Skye breathes deeply, looking at her bio-meter watch. "Under seventy," Skye says, taking another breath.

"How are you doing that?" Garner asks.

"May taught me," Skye replies. "You focus on a single point, let everything else become noise disappearing in the background."

"Except it doesn't disappear you're pushing it aside," Garner says, putting his hands on his hips. Which is why, when you were dreaming, the tremors started." Skye swallows thickly. "What were you dreaming about?" Garner asks.

"I don't remember," Skye replies, her cheeks darkening.

"You're seeming defensive," Garner says, frowning.

"Because you keep pushing," Skye argues.

"Because whatever you were feeling was strong enough to shake this entire plane," Garner replies, his brows furrowing.

"Well, I don't know, so let's move on," Skye says, her eyes watery. "How about you show me an inkblot, and I tell you about me and my girlfriend's first time?" Skye asks, leaning forward. The moment she says it though, she regrets it. Their first time had been magical, and Skye had never felt so loved that night.

Garner chuckles. "Humor. So that's your thing. Well, that's an effective way to avoid thinking about how monumentally painful your life is right now."

"Good pep talk," Skye says through gritted teeth. "Thanks," Skye frowns, her brows furrowing.

"Sarcasm. Same purpose - avoidance strategy," Garner says.

"What am I avoiding, exactly?" Skye asks, leaning forward and crossing her legs criss-cross-applesauce on her and (Y/n)'s shared bed.

"The truth," Garner says. "That - not just you, but your girlfriend too - are different now, that you have abilities, your abilities triggered by pain, and either you face that or you don't sleep again."

Skye swallows thickly, her gaze falling on the door, wishing that (Y/n) would walk through the door; wishing that (Y/n) would set her hand on her knee like she always did when Skye was feeling scared or nervous; wishing that (Y/n) would walk through with a carefully picked tub of salted caramel ice cream and two spoons.

Skye turns back to Dr. Garner. "I dreamed I was on a mission, looking through the scope of my rifle. The next thing I knew, I was on the other side. The rifle was trained on me.

"Pretty on point - going form being an agent to a -" Garner begins

"Yeah, to being on the Index," Skye interupts. "And I know SHIELD's policy for people on the Index."

There's a rumbling.

"I have executed that policy," Skye continues.

"Okay. Skye, I need you to stop," Garner says, looking around at the shaking walls. "Just calm down. Take a breath."

"Wait. The room is shaking," Skye realizes.

"Right," Garner replies, leaning forward in his chair. "Which is why I need you to breathe."

"No, this isn't me. I'm not doing this," Skye says, pursing her lips.

Garner looks around before moving out of the room.

(Y/n) enters the room a moment later holding two spoons and a tub of salted caramel ice cream.

Skye gazes softly at (Y/n) as (Y/n) comes over to sit beside her on their shared bed.

"Dad needed backup," (Y/n) tells Skye as she hands her girlfriend a spoon, then cracking open the tub of ice cream.

Skye leans affectionately against (Y/n), digging her spoon into the carton and making airplane noises like she would to a baby, poking (Y/n)'s lips with the spoon.

(Y/n)'s shoulder shake with silent laughter, and she opens her mouth, eating the spoonful off Skye's spoon.

(Y/n) takes her own spoon, scooping out another bite. She moves it towards Skye's lips. When Skye opens her mouth, (Y/n) steals the bite.

Skye giggles this time, her head falling on (Y/n)'s shoulder.

. . .

"That not-talking thing you do - not okay when we were married, but definitely not okay," Dr. Garner scolds his ex-wife.

"Not okay is Skye's lunatic father leading Coulson into a trap. Civilians could be hurt. I acted quickly," May says, her tone hardening.

"And me and Skye? We do what?" Garner asks, furrowing his brow.

May scoffs. "Same as if we were were on base," May says. "Stay in the cage. Continue your evaluation."

"That's so not going to happen," Skye says, and the two exs turn to fix their gazes on the two young women.

May's eyes flick down to Skye and (Y/n)'s interlocked pinkies and Skye's slightly relaxed expression.

"This is not a negotiation, Skye," May fixes her gaze back on Skye's eyes, which had narrowed, her relaxed expression leaving her face. "You're staying on the BUS."

Skye walks over to the debriefing table, leaving (Y/n) standing in the doorway.

"If Coulson needs backup -" Skye begins.

May cuts her off. "He'll have it. We don't need you."

"Yes, you do. My father's involved," Skye argues, her eyes narrowing. "And for better or worse, I matter to him, and we can use that."

"May, we can help," (Y/n) says, moving over to stand beside Skye.

"Having contact with your father is a bad idea," Garner says, furrowing his eyebrows. "If you can't control your feelings -"

"I'll ice myself," Skye interupts.

Garner frowns.

"Look. You put me on the Index. You're doing my intake assessment. How about we let my Dad know?" Skye asks.

"Okay," May says after a moment, but then she fixes her gaze on (Y/n).

. . .

"We want everyone to know what you do to people like us," Cal says, his voice echoing through the silent stadium. "And we want you to stop before you do it to her."

"Talking about her?" (Y/n) says through gritted teeth, pushing Skye forward, her unloaded handgun pressed to the side of Skye's neck.

"You monster," Cal turns to (Y/n), his brow furrowing.

(Y/n)," Coulson breathes, looking at his daughter in disbelief.

"Daisy," Cal says, gazing at his daughter. "What have they done to you?"

"We put her on the Index," May says, coming up and pressing her unloaded handgun into the small of Skye's back. "Now we decide - contain her or put her down." May shoves the gun into Skye's back again. "Your call."

"Tell me they didn't hurt you," Cal says, stepping forward to gaze into his daughter's watery eyes.

"Talk to me, not her," (Y/n) presses the gun into Skye's neck, hating herself for being so harsh, but she knows she has to keep up the facade.

"Now, you let these people go, or your daughter dies," May says, shoving the gun into Skye's back for the third time.

"Oh, no, no, no, no. I can't lose you again," Cal whispers. "Don't you see what they do? You've been changed. And it scares the hell out of them. I think it's wonderful." Skye swallows thickly. "I can help. So, tell me. What's your thing?" he asks. "I mean, I was hoping it was wings."

"Talk to me, not her," May growls.

"You chose them," Cal glares at (Y/n), then Coulson, his eyes full of disdain. "You threatened to kill me, your own father. You didn't know any better. They raised you. They brainwashed you. You won't kill her," Cal says, turning away. "Though, the truth is, you're capable of such things. That's what I'm trying to teach this whole damn town. I don't even know if they're listening. Maybe they'll listen to you," Cal hands the microphone to a man beside him.

The man with the microphone exhales deeply, but a blue energy field surrounds Cal and takes him away.

"Skye," Garner says, running over to the brunette. "Come on. Come on."

"(Y/n), go with them," May gives (Y/n) a slight nudge. "You're the only one who can keep her calm."

(Y/n) takes Skye's hand in her own, pulling her along.

Skye's breathing stutters as she watches Coulson and May fight Cal's companions.

Skye breathes deeply and the stadium begins to rumble.

Everyone looks at her and (Y/n) drops Skye's hand, clutching her left wrist.

The rumbling stops and (Y/n) looks over at Skye's hands and lower arms which were darkening with bruises.

Skye's vision goes blurry and (Y/n) moves behind Skye to catch her as she fell.

(Y/n) hits the ground, her wrist searing with pain, but Skye lands safely in her lap.

. . .

"You're awake," Simmons says, sighing with relief.

Skye looks around, looking startled and slightly scared as she tries to sit up.

"You're probably feeling a little drowsy," Simmons says, her voice soft. "We gave you something to help you sleep." Skye sits up, looking at her bruised hands.

"Why do I have these bruises?" Skye asks, her gaze finding (Y/n) sitting in a chair, her left wrist resting on the table, Fitz gently running his fingers down (Y/n)'s wrist before he leaves the room.

"I ran some tests," Simmons says. "The bruising was caused by capillary ruptures in your arms. X-rays showed more than seventy-five hairline fractures from your clavicle to your fingers."

"I . . . I don't understand," Skye stutters, Fitz returning to the room with a black velcro cast. He tightly wraps (Y/n)'s wrist with the cast, (Y/n) gritting her teeth.

"You weren't stopping your powers, Skye," Garner tells her. "You were . . . directing them inward."

Skye lets out a shaky breath, blinking back her tears.

(Y/n) runs her own fingers down her fractured wrist.

A guilty looking Skye meets (Y/n)'s gaze and Skye can see (Y/n)'s love and worry reflected there, along with pain.

"What am I supposed to do?" Skye asks.

"I made the casts from compression microfibers to help contain the shaking, minimize the damage," Simmons leans forward and (Y/n) narrows her eyes angrily.

"That's not what she means, Simmons," May says before she focuses her gaze gently on Skye. "We'll figure this out, Skye."

. . .

(Y/n) lies down on Skye's stomach, letting out soft kitten purrs that sooth Skye back to sleep, her bruised fingers gently brushing (Y/n)'s orange fur.

(Y/n) had realized that when using her powers, it was more helpful if she knew a lot about the animal she was going to change into.

. . .

"Well, the bruising has started to fade," Simmons says, looking at Skye's arm. (Y/n) is sitting close to Skye, (Y/n)'s fractured wrist resting on Skye's lower thigh, rubbing it with a thumb. "though I'm afraid these stress fractures will take a bit more time to heal."

"Great. Tried to go Zen to keep my powers in check only to find myself -" Skye lets out a soft yelp as he tries to pull her 'casts' back onto her arms "- back on the D.L."

"The down low?" both (Y/n) and Fitz ask in unison.

"The disabled list," Skye says, nudging (Y/n) with a knee.

"Oh, yeah," (Y/n) says, looking a little embarrassed.

"That makes more sense," Fitz agrees

"Yeah, and now I'm all . . . " Skye studies her bruised hands.

"You know, it could just be growing pains - from the new powers," Fitz says, trying to reassure Skye.

"It's okay, Fitz," Skye says, gently closing her fists. "You don't have to put a positive spin on this."

"I'm not doing that. I would never patronize the -" the three women look up at him. "Well, the - Things change, that's what I'm saying. So, maybe if you can learn to control this, then . . . You could have Avengers-level powers," Fitz says, looking at Skye. "Something like Captain America, even."

"I'd say more Thor-ish powers," (Y/n) corrects. "Thor's the God of Thunder. Tremors got, well, tremors. Both elemental based powers."

"I think it best we keep in mind the destructive capabilities of Skye's powers," Simmons says. "If there is an Avengers equivalent, right now, I'm afraid it's the Hulk."

(Y/n) turns her gaze on Simmons, an eyebrow raised.

"Well, Hulk saved the world, last I checked," Fitz says.

"You're absolutely right," Simmons agrees. "But given the choice, I believe Bruce Banner would not hesitate to cure himself once and for all."

"Actually," (Y/n) says, meeting Simmons's gaze. "Bruce is trying to find out a way to make himself and the Hulk the same being. Just because something is powerful, doesn't mean it's dangerous. Steve Rogers, for example, is a super-solder, but he's as gentle as a mouse. People have the capacity to choose who or what they want to be, Simmons."

"Well then, maybe we should be glad that Bruce hasn't tried to cure himself then," Fitz says.

"Oh, Fitz -" Simmons goes to say.

"Don't 'oh, Fitz,' me," Fitz retorts and the BUS begins to shake.

(Y/n) lets her uninjured hand's fingers brush soothingly up and down Skye's arm.

The rumbling stops as Skye fixes her gaze on (Y/n)'s gentle, loving gaze.

"Sorry, Skye. It isn't really about you," Simmons says apologetically.

"I'm pretty sure it is," Skye says, frowning. "We'll go back to our cage," Skye says, sliding out of the the booth, (Y/n) following closely.

Fitz and Simmons watch (Y/n) and Skye closely. They watch as (Y/n)'s uninjured hand brushes one of Skye's bruised hand with a gentleness neither of the two had seen before.

Word Count: 7454 words

Skye / Daisy Johnson Taglist:

@imapotato

@confusinggemini612

#skye x reader #skye x female reader #skye x fem reader #daisy johnson x female reader #daisy johnson x reader #daisy johnson x fem reader #daisy johnson x coulson reader #skye x coulson reader #skye #daisy johnson #Youtube

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slutsofren · 4 years

Text

Danger Days Chapter 2: Kill All Your Friends

missed chapter 1? read here!

summary: things get thrown for a bit a loop at the dam when two strangers appear, revealing to be Joel, Tommy's younger brother and a young girl. their presence makes things a little tense but soon gets heated as danger follows them to thr power plant.

word count: 3,352

read on ao3 here

warnings: slight cursing, guns and well, canon-typical murder, hunter attack

notes: does anybody else look at joel and just wanna,,,, punch him in the face with kisses? just because he deserves it? no? only me?

Humid. It was always fucking humid. The lot of you have been out at the dam for nearly a week with little to be shown as progress. Things in Jackson were doing fine, wonderful even, and then the power went out. Turns out one of the turbines busted, it’s taken you and the whole group working day and night to repair it.

You leaned against the wall, taking in the greenery that was slowly encompassing the whole hydroelectric dam. It was rather beautiful. You glanced over to David, one of the few engineers from the old world, was hunched over the table mumbling softly to himself looking over a rather poorly drawn map of the turbines, trying to figure out what was going wrong. Then glanced to the far side of the courtyard where Tommy and Maria were, both engrossed in some tense conversation.

Whatever they were whisper-arguing about wasn’t going to be any of your business… until Maria finds you later on to vent at least. A little push off the wall and you grabbed your rifle before swinging it onto your back, groaning that your little break was probably over by now. Today you had guard duty. How fun.

You approached the duo, hoping to simmer down whatever was going on between them, likely both were stressed beyond hell for the turbine to come back on. Maria saw you first and put her hand on her face, rubbing away some tension. She said your name and pulled you into a half hug and you didn’t miss the small thanks she whispered in your ear for interrupting.

“Goin’ back on duty, want me to keep near the front gate?”

Maria nodded, “Sounds good. I’ll follow you in a minute.”

Tommy looked at you and gave you a friendly smile. Although you were casual friends with the man long before you met Maria, he knows where your loyalties lie but also knows you have his back on the field. When you first arrived at Jackson, bloodied and bruised, Maria didn’t trust you as far as she could have tossed you, but as things go, you both wormed into the others hearts through sheer sarcasm and your ‘take no shit’ attitude.

That’s when Tommy knew he was fucked being the only person between the two of you.

You left and went to go to your post, fanning out the jean jacket you were wearing to help relieve the humidity on your skin. The entrance to the hydroelectric dam was hellbent on attracting unwanted attention. For the near week you’ve been out here you had two bandit attacks, not to mention the ones back at Jackson, causing you to feel even stickier.

You found a spot up top the entrance to keep an eye out through the scope of your rifle, not noticing anything for another couple of hours, Maria not even coming by to her post. Just as you were going to call your shift, you noticed some slight movement across the concrete jungle of the remains of the power plant.

And some more movement.

Then more.

You grabbed your radio and phoned in, “Activity to the east. Two spotted.” The radio clicked and produced static until another click sounded.

Maria called back, “Eyes.”

“Noted. Out.”

With that, you knew exactly what to do. Everybody did. When it came down to it, nobody really did want a gunfight. When the code ‘eyes’ is spoken, it means shut up and watch. If the people pass, they go on their merry way. If they don’t, well, they typically don’t leave alive if they so much as hint at being a threat.

It’s unfortunate this is the way life is now but who are you to fight the changing tides.

You peek through your scope again, watching a dark haired man and a smaller woman work their way through the maze, figuring out how to cross the water. You took your eyes off the scope and began to watch them without the tool until they both began pushing at the gate. You grumble, “Contact made.”

Maria pops in behind you on your left and together you two and two more of the on duty guards on the other end of the gate point your rifles at the duo, revealing yourselves. The man doesn’t take notice until the girl points a gun at your companions then you and he backs off the entrance.

“Don’t even think about drawing your weapon! Tell the girl to drop hers. Now,” Maria shouts besides you.

The man backs up a couple steps, sticking his hand out to the girl, “Ellie, so as the lady says.”

She looks at him and puts her arms up in surrender, “Okay.”

Maria, still holding her rifle at the two strangers, says to the man, “Please tell me you're lost.”

“We didn’t know the place was occupied, we’re just trying to make our way through,” he points through the gate.

“Through to where?”

Then a deep voice picks up, “They're alright.”

You and Maria look away from the two down to the voice, seeing Tommy approaching the gate. “What, you know these people,” Maria asks him.

“I know him,” Tommy grumbles as he opens the gate, “He’s my goddamn brother.”

Oh.

You’d heard stories of the man before, of Joel Miller. From what Tommy has said before you recalled that the man was a bit of a brute, shut off from everybody after losing his daughter. He was a hunter and did some goddamned awful things in this world but quite frankly, who hasn’t? You know you have in the past to ensure your survival. It was something Tommy hated that his brother participated in but you couldn’t blame him, not after the shit you’ve seen and done.

Joel looked at his brother and his shoulders slumped, “Tommy.”

“Holy shit,” he said and moved past the safety of the gates and went straight to Joel, wrapping his arms around him.

“How you doin’, baby brother?”

Maria shot you a look that clearly stated she didn’t trust the man, despite being her brother-in-law, she heard the same stories you did. The man was a hunter, a murderer, even a smuggler. The very kind of people that don’t bode well with Jackson. With a sigh, you both put down your rifles and headed down to the gate to meet Joel and the girl, Ellie. She walked right up to the two men and you could faintly hear Tommy say, “You got fuckin’ old.”

“Easy - it’s gonna happen to you too,” Joel quipped.

Tommy took a step back, you watched how he shuffled on his feet and introduced Maria. “Be nice to her, she sorta runs things around here.”

“Ma’am.” Joel nods his head towards her. “Thanks for not blowing my head off.”

You roll your eyes at this from where you’re watching this all unfold, internally gagging at Joel’s whole ‘southern charm’ bit. Although he should be more grateful to you for not shooting him. Maria looks at Tommy beside her, “Would’ve been embarrassing, considering you’re my brother-in-law.”

An amused smile immediately hits your lips as you watch Joel try to absorb that information. He looks between the couple a few times before Tommy says, “We all gotta get wrangled up at some point.”

Maria turns to you and you lose the smile as she extends a hand for you to approach. “And this here is my second in command,” introducing you to Joel by giving him your first name and he nods his head, both of you deciding to not say a word to each other, silently sizing the other up. His eyes don’t leave yours but for a brief moment you swear his eyes flash down your body and back up as he lets out a low huff.

Oh, it’s on old man, you think.

Maria chuckles, noticing whatever the hell is happening between you two, and she turns towards the girl. “Ellie, right? What brings you through here?”

Ellie looks towards Joel for guidance, “Uh… it’s kind of a long story.”

Tommy immediately notices all the other eyes and ears watching this interaction unfold and puts his hand on Maria’s back, picking up the clear signal for some privacy. “Why don’t we bring ‘em inside?”

“Yeah, you hungry,” she asks Ellie.

“Starving,” the girl groans. You smile a bit, feeling pretty amused at this whole thing. From the stories you’ve been told about Joel it seemed very unlikely he’d be traveling with a companion, much less a child.

Tommy steps aside as you walk back through the gate first, Maria and Ellie behind you. “False alarm. They're friendlies,” you shout, walking further in the power plant leading the group. You take a quick glance around at the other scouts on shift, watching them watch the newcomers. Everybody was on edge, everybody was wary. The fact Tommy and Maria were letting some strangers in, in the midst of repairing an essential component to Jackson functioning properly, was not going past anybody.

You can hear Maria as she explains the stares and the heavily armed posts to Joel somewhere behind you, “We’ve been dealing with raids. Lots of bandits in this area.”

“It’s been quiet for a few days,” Tommy adds on, explaining why they answered at the gate so aggressively, as if it was any consolation of almost killing his brother and the girl.

“What the hell are you doing here? I thought I’d find you in Jackson.”

“Been trying to bring the plant back to life,” Tommy explains.

This time you chime in, “We had it working before, but one of the turbines went south about a week ago. Been tryin’ to fix it up.”

Tommy adjusts his rifle on his shoulder. “We have electricity Joel… had. We’ll get it running again.”

Ellie runs past you, approaching a few of the horses. “No way! You guys have horses.”

“We got a whole lot of ‘em,” Tommy tells her. You watch as she puts her hand on the brown and white one, petting it softly.

Beside the horse is Cherry, one of the few horse wranglers in Jackson, she was kind and sweet, pretty young too all things considered. She was tall and bulky from years of shoving heavy loads of hay, sometimes you’d wonder what it’d be like to get tossed around by her. She’s kind of notorious for winning hand-to-hand combat scenarios in the training hall. Not that you ever went.

Cherry tells Ellie about the horse and they get to talking about the animal. You also hear Charlie over your shoulder asking Tommy for help with one of the iron shoes on another horse. You take a few steps back then marching towards the warehouse, settling against the wall next to Earl and he gives you a brief nod acknowledging you. He’s sweet, you think, you’ve never spoken to him much but you recall he’s one of the maintenance men around Jackson. Thankfully he’s the silent type and you don’t have to try and make polite small talk with him.

As you both lean against the wall quietly, you begin watching both Ellie and Joel and how they’re assessing the environment. Ellie seems very excited petting the horse and talking to Cherry but Joel looks on edge, mirroring everyone else. He catches you staring and looks away slowly, now watching Ellie talk to Cherry about going riding later on.

Maria and Tommy make their way towards you and you push off, walking up the stairs and opening the door, you faintly hear Maria talk to Earl about heading back to Jackson. The door creaks open and you let Tommy, Joel, Ellie, then Maria into the warehouse until both your and Maria’s radios crackle. “Maria, we’re in the control room. Steve’s about to start it back up. Do you wanna come check it out?”

Maria sighs and mumbles back to you, “I’d rather eat with Ellie.”

You stifle a bit of a laugh at her candor in front of the others and Tommy interjects, “It’s my turn anyway. I’ll go.”

Joel then volunteers to go with his brother, telling Ellie to go with you and Maria but not before flashing you a look that says something akin to ‘try something and I’ll hunt you’.

Before Ellie could protest, Maria pulls her along. “C’mon, Ellie. Let’s give the boys some space.”

The three of you are relatively quiet leading back to the office room where the food was. Ellie kept looking over her shoulder, likely for Joel. You started wondering how he came across her, doubting any possibility she was his daughter. Tommy would have known if that were the case.

You gave a look over at Ellie, now seeing her a little closer. She looks slightly gaunt, likely hasn’t eaten in a few days you suspect which worries you a bit. No kid should have to go without.

“When was the last time you ate,” you ask her.

She ponders for a moment, “Before we got here I was pretty sure that the next squirrel I saw I was gonna eat.”

You and Maria raised your eyebrows at her admission before gently laughing as you reached the room. Maria pulls out some jars of fruit and a container of jerky from underneath and hands it to her, “Here, eat some of this. We have better options back in Jackson but while we don’t have a full service kitchen out here, this is the best we got.”

“That’s okay! I’ll eat almost anything at this point,” she openly admits. You take notice in how expressive she is, likely warming up to you and Maria now.

The three of you get to talking, making idle chatter over a few opened mason jars and a hefty supply of jerky. The more you talk with Ellie, the more you grow to like her. She’s got a mouth of a sailor and sarcasm that’d turn any old man running.

Wonder if she’s annoyed the hell out of Joel, you muse. Now you sit, chewing on fruit and imagining how easy it’d be to get under his skin. You’re torn out of your thoughts when the lights suddenly turn on, “Thank the damned stars! I’m ready to get out of here. Everybody is driving me up the wall.”

Maria throws a loose grape at you, “Thanks a lot, asshole.”

“Anytime,” you wink.

“How long have you two known each other,” Ellie asks you both.

You pop a piece of fruit in your mouth, “Just two years. She was already married to Tommy when I arrived.”

“Can’t believe you’re married to his brother,” Ellie groans. “Joel is such a grump, can’t imagine how the other one is.”

Maria nods and smiles, still eating some of the peaches. “Oh, trust me. Some days I want to strangle him. Didn’t expect to ever meet Joel, if I’m bein’ honest.”

“I couldn’t recognize him, not even by that photo,” you say mindlessly, reaching for your canteen and drinking water.

Ellie picks her head up a little more, “Photo? What photo?”

Maria gets up from her seat and walks to one of the duffle bags in the other room, she searches around before she pulls out a photo and when she returns, hands it to Ellie. She gestures to you, “Her and Tommy went down to Texas about a year ago, he wanted to see what was left of his and Joel’s old life and scavenge what they could.”

“We didn’t find much,” you continue, “Tommy didn’t think he’d ever see his brother again, it was like his way of saying goodbye so he took this photo of him and a couple others.”

“Who’s the girl,” Ellie asks looking at the picture.

“Sarah.” You shift in your seat, not feeling entirely comfortable with this conversation anymore.

Maria finishes your sentence, “She was his daughter. She didn’t survive very long after the outbreak.”

Before you could try to steer the conversation in another direction, a loud siren echoed through the hall as shouts filled the warehouse.

“Bandits,” someone shouted as gunshots rang out.

You stand up and push Ellie behind you, looking for your rifle. It was too far away, tucked under one of the abandoned desks. “Fuck,” you shout as you see a handful of hunters enter the room.

Drawing the two handguns strapped to your thighs, you begin to take shots at them, not exactly hitting them where it was vital but enough to make them stumble and drop. Maria grabs you by the shoulder, “Let’s go!”

You retreat backwards into the closed off manager-type office and from the corner of your eye you see a man rise from the other side of a broken window and take aim at Ellie behind you. You whipped around and shoved against her with an ‘oof’ just as you hear something whizz past you and hit the wall above the two of you.

Hovering above Ellie, you keep her head down with your right hand, abandoning the gun beside her as you and Maria take alternating shots at the invaders. “Move, Ellie,” you tell her, lifting yourself up to give her room to maneuver into the office while shielding her.

Maria shuffles into the room after you and the girl, “There’s more coming in. We can’t take all of them.”

“Shit, okay,” you look around frantically. You were running low on bullets now, the rest of your spare ammunition was left in your backpack. In an entirely different area. Your eyes searched around the small room and you got Maria’s attention, together you pulled a nearby table into the office, barricading yourselves.

“Under the table, now,” she yells at Ellie then looks at you.“Guess we’ll have to wait for the men to save us,” she says a little bitterly.

Together, the three of you hid. Waiting for the echo of bullets to cease after what feels like a lifetime.

Faintly, you could hear the familiar voice of Tommy yelling and a gruff one responding, likely his brother. You released the breath you had been holding onto as the last gunshot rang out. Between you and Maria, Ellie had her hands over her ears and she slowly lowered them until jumping up and shouting “They’re all dead!”

Maria rose to her feet as Tommy and her called out for each other, “The kid’s with us!” She jumps out the shattered window and runs to her husband as they check over each other.

You help Ellie out the office room the same way and Joel looks over her the same way as she recalls the attack. “Joel, oh, man…,” Ellie begins talking so fast that she’s out of breath. “They were coming in from every direction and they were both like ‘we gotta run’ and so we dove over these tables and this huge guy blasts in with a shotgun-”

“Slow down, slow down. Listen-,” Joel cuts her off. He puts his hands on her shoulders and looks her in the eye, “Hey, hey, are you hurt?”

“No!” She looks at you, “She protected me!”

Joel follows her gaze and you look him in the eye, cocking an eyebrow at him.

You’re not really competitive, you don’t really like attention either, but there was something about Joel fuckin’ Miller that really got to you. Maybe it was the way he seemed to be mindful of everything, maybe it was the way his eyes roamed over your body, maybe it was the fact he was unfortunately making you squirm where you stood as his hardened glare seemed to see right through you, asking you to try him.

Whatever it was, his hardened stare made you quiver ever so slightly. You took a few very mindful steps away from the man, walking towards Maria and Tommy when you caught the tail end of whatever he was saying to your best friend, “- to talk.”

It seemed like that was not what Maria wanted to hear as her already pale face grew paler and her signature scowl etched back across her face.

#joel (the last of us)#pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller / reader #joel tlou x reader insert #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #joel the last of us #joel tlou #danger days fic #joel tlou x reader #asher's writing

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impala-dreamer · 4 years

Text

There’s Something About Mr. Ackles

~ An interview on set leads to some extra special behind the scenes activities.~

Jensen x Reader

1,767 Words

Warnings: NSFW, Oral all around.

A/N: This was a request from @thoughtslikeaminefield, a prize for winning GTGT!

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“So, it must be hard to say goodbye after all these years.”

Y/N leaned in just a bit, just enough to give him a peek at what was hiding beneath her blouse. She knew it was wrong, but she also knew he’d been turning up the charm for the last fifteen minutes for no reason. He wanted a peek.

Jensen licked his lips slowly as his green eyes passed over the ample view she had offered. Clearing his throat, he answered honestly. “It is. Hard to say goodbye to the crew, they’re like family, really. We’ve been through weddings, births, funerals. It’s like leaving home for the first time.”

Y/N pouted, listening sympathetically even as she stared at his plump lips. She’d always fancied him, but up close and personal… it was a whole new level of beautiful. He was drop-dead gorgeous and Y/N was about to drop.

“And Dean?” she asked, checking her notes even though she didn’t need them. “What will it be like to put aside the flannel for the last time?”

He smiled sadly and dropped his chin, considering. He had all the answers, she knew. This wasn’t his first interview of the day even, but he was playing it up nicely for the camera that filmed him over her left shoulder.

“I’m never gonna leave Dean. He’s a part of me. I may back away from the flannels for a while, but they’ll always hold a special place in my heart.”

He laughed and Y/N tried not to visibly shiver. She’d been around just about every celebrity there was over the last five years, but there was just something about Mr. Ackles.

“Oh no,” she joked, “don’t give up the flannel! You look amazing in plaid.” She winked, confident that the camera couldn’t see it, and she could have sworn Jensen blushed.

“Thank you.” The apples of his cheeks were bright pink and he covered his smile shyly with his hand, curling his middle finger towards his lips. “It’ll be an adjustment, but I’m looking forward to new adventures.”

“Speaking of…” She shifted in her chair and crossed her legs, purposely forgetting to adjust the hem of her pencil skirt as it rose up her thighs. “Any new projects lined up?”

Jensen’s gaze fell to the black lace line that rounded her thick thighs, cheeks paling as the blood flowed downward. “Well, I’m working on another record…”

Y/N smiled and sat back, the edge of her skirt hiking up a bit higher. “Ah! Yes, Radio Company! Loved the first album, really great.”

“Thanks, I’m very proud of it.” The tip of his tongue snagged between his front teeth and his hands fell to his thighs, rubbing absently.

“You act, you sing, you direct, write songs- and, as we saw in a recent episode, you dance.” She paused and stared until he met her eyes. “Is there anything the great Jensen Ackles can’t do?”

He laughed; head tipping back as his entire body shook with the action. “Oh, I don’t know about that. There are many things I can’t do.” His smile fell as he zoned in on her legs, opening slowly as Y/N leaned in.

“I’m sure that’s not true…”

The sets were dark and empty as he led her through, stopping in a room where they kept the extra’s props. There were shelves lined with random trinkets and furniture pieces; objects Y/N barely had time to name.

As soon as the door shut, Jensen grabbed her, spinning Y/N in his arms and pressing her back against one of the metal shelves.

“You’re the naughtiest interview I’ve ever had,” he growled, thrusting a knee between her thighs.

She gasped and clawed at the back of his neck, pulling his face down to hers. “You haven’t had me yet.”

His kiss was full and deep; lips crushing hers with a passion that left her breathless. He distracted her with his tongue as his right hand slipped up to cup her breast, kneading and pinching at the mountain of flesh beneath her silky blouse.

Y/N spread her legs around his and pressed down, humping his thick thigh while he toyed with the buttons on her shirt.

“You better not pop those,” she teased, knocking his hand away to help him.

He grinned as she opened her shit and was quick to drag the cups of her black lace bra down beneath her tits. Her nipples popped in the cool air, ruddy and hard. “Delicious.”

“You should have a taste.”

Jensen dipped down to do just that, lapping at each nipple in turn before setting his mouth around the right side, sucking hard enough to make her squeal.

“Fuck!”

“Keep it down,” he warned, breath hot as is passed across her chest to the opposite side. He bit down on the left nipple and she held her breath, biting her lip hard to stay quiet.

Y/N raked her hands through his perfectly styled hair. “You’ve got quite a mouth on you.”

He released her tit with a pop and met her eyes with a grin. “You have no idea.”

She blushed. “Why don’t you show me, then?”

His eyes glowed with something mischievous as he slid down her body, stopping to nibble on her throat and flick his tongue against her nipple as he sank to his knees. Hot fingers pushed her skirt upwards, and Y/N wiggled against the shelves as he kissed the soft flesh of her inner thighs.

“Oh my…”

Jensen ran a single finger across her pussy, pressing the matching black lace up into her folds.

“Fuck, lemme just…” She hooked her thumbs around the thin elastic hem of her panties, but Jensen grabbed her wrists and shoved her fingers away.

“Leave ‘em on.”

She had no breath to reply as his tongue replaced his finger, pushing burning, wet heat up into her cunt. He lapped at the lace, sucked it between his lips, bumped her covered clit with his nose.

Y/N held on to the metal, arms stretched, crucifying herself as he gently pushed the lace aside finally. She sucked in her stomach as he kissed her clit again and again, pulling and releasing the sensitive bud until it was throbbing almost painfully. Her cunt leaked onto his fingers and Jensen pushed them inside, fucking her slow and deep on his big hand.

When his middle finger swept over her g-spot, Y/N moaned loudly and slapped a hand down onto the top of his head, grabbing the short locks between her fingers.

“Jesus Christ!”

Jensen hummed into her pussy and picked up his pace; talented mouth and fingers working together to bring her right to the edge of ecstasy before pulling away.

Y/N nearly fell, panting and clinging to the shelf as he stood and licked her slick from his lips.

“Eh?” he teased, one cocky eyebrow raised.

Her eyes rolled for a split second before she attacked, pushing herself off of the shelves and wrapping a hand around the back of his neck. She tugged until he bent down, and she tasted herself on his tongue, sweet and familiar. She let him go but kept his lips busy as she tugged at his belt, hands tripping over the big silver buckle.

“Allow me,” he smirked, taking a step back to open his jeans. Leather and denim fell to his bowed knees, and Y/N cocked her head as she stared at the digitally printed boxer briefs, tented by his stiff cock.

“Is that a lion?” she asked, grinning at the golden animal covering his crotch.

Jensen laughed and spread his arms in a smug shrug. “King of the Jungle, baby.”

“I can see that.” She fell down just as he had, knees meeting the hard floor in an instant. She ran her hands up his strong thighs, digging her nails into the tanned flesh before finding his hips and peeling his boxers down. The size of him stopped her breath and Y/N stared at the giant cock lying hard against his left thigh. “You really are the King.”

Jensen pet her head, running his hand over the top and back, urging her forward towards his cock as he roared like a lion.

Her laugh was muffled as he bucked his hips, forcing his cock to slide against her mouth. She parted her lips and took him in, humming happily as his salty taste hit the sides of her tongue.

Jensen pushed his hips forward and lay his head back, resting against the only patch of empty wall in the place. He groaned rhythmically as she swallowed around him, deeper and deeper until she gagged loudly and pulled away. A thick line of saliva connected them and she scooped it up in her fist. She wrapped her wet fingers around the base of his cock, jerking slowly while she bobbed her mouth on the tip.

“That’s… fuck. Yes.”

He let her work, keeping his body as still as possible until the last second. When he could take it no longer, Jensen cupped the sides of her face in his big hands and held her there, fucking quickly into her tight mouth and spilling down her throat.

Y/N swallowed again and again until he softened on her tongue. She licked her lips and wiped at her chin when he pulled out, sighing with pleasure as he slumped on the wall.

“Goddamn.”

“You ain’t kidding.”

They redressed in silence, now and then casting a side-eye at the other.

When they were together, Jensen smiled kindly and opened the door, stepping aside to let her through.

“Such a gentleman,” she laughed.

Jensen clicked his tongue. “Not so much.”

“Apparently.”

The lights seemed extra bright and conversation was awkward. They tried not to meet each other’s gaze, but it was hard not to. Thankfully, anything and everything could be edited and left on the cutting room floor.

“Final question, Jensen,” Y/N announced; a smile in her perky voice.

Jensen folded his hands in his lap and smiled. “Shoot.”

“Anything you’d like to say to your biggest fans out there? You are the King after all.”

The laugh caught him by surprise, nearly choking him. “Well…”

He blushed again when their eyes met, but Jensen was nothing if not a professional. He cleared his throat and licked his lips, staring deep into the camera. No matter what he was about to say, it would go over big-time. That was the thing about Jensen, you couldn’t help but love him...

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#spn fanfic #jensen x reader #jensen ackles x reader #one shot

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