how original blue

10

OLDCODEX’s “Fixed Engine” Song List

Agent Washington x Reader

Hey look, two fics in one night. I have like three different requests for Wash so expect more. This particular one takes place on Chorus pre-rescue mission while Wash and the others are with the Feds. Never fear, the much requested Wash x freelancer!reader is to come. Probably.

There were a lot of rules in the Federation Army. Not really surprising given the bureaucratic system that lead it but it’s still very important. It’s also important to note that one of the rules is that pets are by no means allowed to be kept in the barracks under any circumstances. Generally this was a pretty easy rule to follow; it was a civil war after all. Keeping another creature alive and well is a bit difficult when you’re fighting for your own life on a day to day basis. Unfortunately for you, you have quite the soft spot for the small and the fluffy. So when you were stationed in Armonia for a brief period and came across a stray cat you just couldn’t help yourself. The poor thing was starving. Like most of the cats in Chorus’ capitol it was most likely brought there to keep the rodent population down but now that the city was practically a ghost town there was no one left to look after it. Until now.

Turns out hiding a cat in the barracks wasn’t so hard, especially when most of your bunkmates were stressed out soldiers who gladly welcomed the cheering presence of the kitten. In fact, on a regular basis you found yourself having to having to track down soldiers who stole your little bundle of fluff for their own nefarious purposes, most of which involved cuddling. It wasn’t until you were transferred pack to the snowy military base that you faced any real problems. The little orange tabby, affectionately named Cat, had been easy enough to smuggle to  the base thanks to his excellent training but after that it wasn’t exactly what you would call smooth sailing. Things were much stricter there, mostly because of Locus’ presence. Rations were tighter, and sneaking food from the mess hall was significantly more challenging. Still, as a fully trained Federation soldier you were more than prepared for this daring mission.

The biggest problem actually came in the form of one man. One very important man who technically wasn’t your superior officer anyways and really didn’t need to nag you about eating properly and paying attention during training because he really wasn’t supposed to be on this planet to begin with. This man was, of course, Agent Washington. Though not technically a Fed Agent Washington, or “Wash” as he was called by the interesting group of soldiers that accompanied him, was skilled in combat. So much so that General Doyle, in his infinite wisdom, put him in charge of training. Oh how you hated it. On the other hand, you got a pretty good view on those days that high-strung blond allowed you to practice without armor. A pretty good view indeed.

Still, that did not make up for the constant lectures. Sure he actually did seem to be concerned for your general well-being but you had taken perfectly good care of yourself before he crash landed here and you could continue doing pretty damn well without him. You even went so far as to tell him so after one particularly tedious lecture on health and wellness. He did not appreciate that. It took weeks for the soreness to leave your legs after all the laps he made you run. So much for concern over your well-being. After that you kept your complaints between you and Cat who would listen patiently as you lectured him on how much trouble he caused you.

You had just gotten back from one very, very exhausting training session -which fortunately ended in you effectively evading the gray and yellow menace- and were in the middle of ranting to an admittedly disinterested Cat when there came a knock at your door. Sighing, you walked over and opened it, assuming that it was one of the other members of your squad looking to squeeze in some one-on-one cat time. Instead, you found a very concerned Wash outside your door.

“Private, I’m sorry to bother you but this is the third training session in a row where you failed to-” the blond paused, catching site of something over your shoulder. “Private, is that a cat?”

Mentally you steeled yourself for the inevitably rise octave and the shrill lecture to follow about the absurdity of keeping a pet in the middle of a bloody war and following protocol.

“Sir, I can explain-”, before you could even finish your sentence you were pushed to the side. In shock, you watched as the freelancer who had spent the last few weeks lecturing you and making your life a living hell proceeded to get down on his knees and start playing with Cat. He was practically cooing for Christ’s sake! For several minutes you just stood there dumbly, watching this bizarre scene unfold. Who would have guessed that Wash was such a cat person? After a while a thought crossed your mind.

“Sooo, what are the chances of me getting out of training in exchange for letting you play with my cat?” Wash turned, pausing momentarily in his attentions towards your feline friend, and raised a brow. For a while he just stared at you. (somewhere far away a cyan soldier felt a strange urge to shout out his signature catchphrase)

“Private, we are in the middle of a war and your training is crucial in ensuring that you live to see the end of it.” Frowning, you let out a sign of resignation.

“Understood.”

“How about we grab dinner instead?” For the second time this evening you were left dumbstruck by this man. Fortunately he wasn’t too perturbed by your silence, or by the fact that you seemingly had lost control of your jaw. Still, you were almost certain that his ears were several shades redder than usual despite the calm smile on his face.

“Sure, why not.”

A Race With Time

Originally posted by radspencerreid

“#59 with Hotch for the angsty drabble thing? xo”

Enjoy, lovey!


You were down to the last few minutes, trying to figure out how to get the bomb to stop ticking. You were running out of ideas. This was Morgan’s area of expertise, not yours. Managing to get Hotch on speakerphone without moving around too much, you held on to his voice. “Y/N, I’m gonna need you to talk to us. What does it look like?”

 “A bomb,” you replied sarcastically. You heard Aaron almost let out a chuckle, but now was not the time.

 “Y/N, come on. Now is not the time for your smart mouth,” Derek replied, more nervous than you’d ever heard him.

 “Sorry, Derek. There are two wires. Red and blue. How original.”

 “What are they connected to?” Derek asked, as you heard the engine roar louder.

 “Um…I…I don’t really know…” you said, panic starting to seep into your voice.

 “Y/N…” It was Aaron’s voice again. “We’re almost there. How much time do we have?” You gulped.

 “Three minutes, fifteen seconds…” your voice was shaking now, but you were determined to put on a brave face. You heard a car screech to a stop outside the barn you were being held captive in. In the middle of nowhere, you might add. Derek and Hotch were running to you, both serious looking.

 “Y/n, are you okay?” Hotch asked as Derek knelt in front of you, inspecting the bomb strapped to your chest. You chuckled nervously.

 “As okay as I can be in this situation…” you looked at Derek’s face. This wasn’t good.

 “Hotch, they’re both hooked up to the same line. Either way, this thing’s goin’ off.” Your face fell, and you looked up, voice full of fear and desperation.

 “Hotch…Aaron, look at me. You and Derek have got to get out of here. Now.””

“Hey, we aren’t going anywhere. We’ll figure it out.”

“In one minute and fifty-two seconds?! I don’t think so! Aaron, listen. Go. The team needs you. And Derek. I’m the newest to the team, and I’m truly not that much of an asset. Go drive as far away from me as you can.” There were tears streaming down your face now, voice panicked. You couldn’t bear the thought of them getting killed along with you. You? You weren’t that important. But Derek? Your tall, dark, big brother made of muscles? He’d risked his life one too many times for you. And Aaron? You loved him. You loved him more than life itself. They both stared at you, wide eyed.

 “You’re more important than you think you are, y/n…to everyone,” Hotch said, handing Derek his knife.

 “Y/n…don’t you ever let me hear you talk like that again, you hear me, momma?” Derek spoke words as sharp as knives, making you nod your head quickly. “Good. We’re gonna have about ten seconds to get the hell out of here after I cut this strap on your side. You understand me?”

 “I understand.”

 Derek cut the strap binding the bomb to your side, tossing it to the side, and Aaron grabbed you up in his arms, racing back to the SUV they had parked outside. Derek jumped into the drivers seat, Hotch in the other with you in his lap.

 “Go, go, go!” Hotch yelled at him. Derek floored the gas pedal, getting the car as far away from the barn as possible, a huge explosion going off behind you. You ducked down, hiding your face in Hotch’s shoulder, as the car was thrown, flipping a few times, landing in a ditch across from the barn.

 “Y/n! Y/n, don’t you dare…” you heard Aaron’s voice shouting, but it was distant. All you could hear was ringing and…warmth. You’d been freezing earlier, but now? Now, you were very warm. Derek’s eyes were wide, staring at you, when you brought your hand that was now wet up to your line of vision. It was covered in blood. The pain in your head started to be all you could focus on.

“Hey, now, don’t you leave us, y/n. Not after all we’ve been through,” Derek said, gripping your hand. He ripped his shirt off, pressing it to your head. Under possibly any other circumstances, you would have made some snide comment about Garcia missing out. But there was nothing. No snide remark. No smart comment. Nothing. Just silence, and pain.

 “Y/n…please…I know you truly believe what you said back there, but you are important…you’re important to me…y/n, I’m nobody without somebody like you…please, please don’t leave me…” Hotch said, gripping onto you for dear life. Those were the last words you heard before you let darkness take over, only praying that you’d soon wake up to hear him speak again.

Keith is debating how best to punch Lance in the face.

Based off of this here Voltron fantasy AU, Galra Steel because everyone needs a klance to get through the day.