一道 (ichi·dou)  

timetravelresetbaby asked you: i didnt see u rebloggged this meme so im going to give u a bunch of awful shameless requests starting with wash/york fallout au

Wash is busy haggling with Moira again, probably trying to get more bullets out of her (the man already carries a fucking arsenal on his back, what could he need with more bullets, York wants to know, but any time he asks Wash just says something about being prepared and York’s tempted to call him a boy scout but he doesn’t want to deal with Wash bitching about it for the next week so he doesn’t), and York takes the opportunity to poke around the shop, see what she’s got hiding in here.

Not a whole lot he can afford, since they haven’t been out scavenging much lately (a fact, he would like to emphasize, is not his fault, because he’d been pinned to the bed this morning and he hadn’t made them late and no Wash couldn’t use the excuse that he couldn’t help himself because York never gets to use it and he’s not— okay he is the one with the insatiable sex drive but that is not his fault and it’s not like Wash is complaining), but Moira’s always had a good collection of stuff, not just the random shit they find out in the wastes like detergent and two-hundred-years-stale mac and cheese but real stuff, weapons and supplies and he swears he’s seen a Nuka-Cola machine in the back of her shop and if it weren’t for the merc keeping watch he’d have that door open in a jiffy.

“Come on, we’re leaving,” Wash calls, and York looks away from the door and back at him, all worn and scruffy at the edges and yet so inanely neat (seriously, who organizes their weapons alphabetically) that he’ll never understand how he ever lasted a day out of the vault and he can’t help but grin at the way Wash looks all impatient and huffy like they’ve got anyplace to be on a schedule, ‘cause it’s not like the wasteland’s going anywhere and they’ve got time enough to explore the whole lot of it.

so anne and i are working on a fallout au and we are pretty sure that wash and york are going to be the epitome of wasteland stupidity.

case in point:

“Did you just poke me?”

“Uh, no, dude. You wanna get poked, do that on your own time.”

“…”

“I’m just saying.”

“…………did you just poke me again.”

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ichidou:

Set after S10E18.

i just want you to leave.

did you mean it?

yeah, i did. i’ve had you in here a long time, epsilon. it’s time we both let go.

david--

it’s wash, epsilon. just wash.

you said you’d take care of me.

i have, epsilon.

you said you’d finish things.

i did, epsilon.

but it’s not. he’s still out there. we--

not we. you. sarge was right. this isn’t my fight.

it’s your fight more than anyone else’s! you know what he did to us! you remember!

i know. but memory isn’t the key, epsilon. memory is what chains us to the past. i remember everything. that’s why i want to forget.

you promised.

that was a long time ago.

you promised, david!

i’m not david anymore. maybe i never was. but i’m not you, epsilon. i never have been.

you loved her.

no. you did. i just remember her. and it’s time for me to forget.

you can’t!

i’m not you, epsilon. i never have been. i’m human. and i need to let go.

david-- wash, please--

i’m sorry, epsilon.

i forget you.

man i found this way back in my blog and i have to say, this is probably up there with stack overflow as one of my favorite things i wrote this season. it’s nice to feel like i captured everything i wanted to about a scene.

imagineyuorotp:

Imagine person A of your OTP catching person B cheating at Monopoly on family game night.

York cheats at everything.

The problem is that Wash is very good at calling his bluff, and no matter how much sleight of hand he pulls York’s never been anything but a shitty liar, and like hell Wash is going to let him get away with it. There are rules for a reason.

The only thing Wash doesn’t call him on is strip poker, even though York cheats every other hand.

South/Wash, pretending to be married, from Anne. I. I don’t even know.

It’s an average night, as far as their leave ever goes. It never takes more than the promise of a round of beers for the top Freelancers to end up in the same dingy bar, squeezed in with all the other marines on leave and the few civilians unlucky enough to live on this tiny moon. The space doesn’t bother Wash, though, because it’s York’s turn to buy drinks and he’s not moving a goddamn inch until the asshole comes through with it.

One beer easily turns into five, though, and by the time Wash realizes just much he’s had, he’s too far gone to do anything about it. He’s too busy hitting on a girl, and it’s only thanks to his altered mental state and her pity that’s given him a chance in the first place.

Things even seem to be going well, as the hour grows later, and Wash is to the point of trying to work up the courage to ask the girl back to her place for the evening when he feels a hand on his shoulder, one that’s quickly joined by an arm looping around his neck.

“Hey, Wash,” South says, slurring as she leans against him for balance. She’s not shy with her hands, spreading her fingers over his chest, and it’s not long before her other arm winds around him, tugging him back against her chest. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Uh— hi,” Wash manages, eyes darting back and forth between the girl he’s been chatting up and the one who’s decided to use him as a leaning post. “South, I’m kind of busy here—”

“Yeah, I can see that,” South snorts, and she grabs a fistful of Wash’s shirt in her hand, enough to turn him towards her. “You’re always getting busy behind my back, aren’t you?”

“I— wha—”

“He what?” the girl cuts him off, her glare abruptly shifting from South to Wash. “David, who is this?”

“What? She’s just one of my—”

“We’re together,” South interrupts him, loud enough that there’s not a soul in the bar who doesn’t hear her. “And he keeps tryin’ to sleep around on me!”

Wash’s mouth falls open, and it’s that moment of speechlessness that ruins him, because a second later his cheek is stinging and the girl’s stalking off, ignoring every protest he tries to make. He whirls on South (which nearly makes him lurch out of his chair), furious. “What the hell are you doing? I was getting somewhere!”

South just snorts and reaches over him to grab his beer, draining what’s left in one long swig. “Like you coulda hit that. Just saving the poor girl from disappointment.” She lowers the bottle and grins, jerking her thumb over the shoulder. “Plus Maine bet me a hundred credits I could do it under a minute.”

She claps Wash on the back as he gapes up at her, and it’s all Wash can do to lower his face into his palms with a groan.

“This is the worst night ever. Of all time.”

For Enn. Prompt was brot3 + solutions to a bad mood; I ended up going a rather fluffy direction with it. I’m not sure how IC this is, and it tends more towards the fluffy side than I intended, but I had fun writing it. I needed something light to pull me out of the writing rut I’ve been in. <3

Wash is usually the whiny one. Usually here meaning all the goddamn time, because they can’t seem to go a day without Wash bitching about something or other. And York loves the kid, the really does, but getting him to loosen up has been a harder mission than any that have ever taken them off the ship.

He doesn’t tend to get too frustrated, himself, or at least not enough that he lets it show, but York’s never been all that good at lying or even hiding the fact. It’s what made things easy with North, in the beginning, the fact that York just couldn’t hide how he felt about them, and even now it doesn’t take North more than a glance to see that something’s gotten to York. (Though Wash has gotten better at it, York’s noticed, when he’s not being grumpy himself— but then, Wash’s way of dealing with it are usually his stupid fucking puppy eyes that York can’t believe he still falls for.)

North’s the one who always holds steady, who keeps them steady, and Wash and York both know they’re the better for it, that they’d spend a lot more time bickering than they already do if it wasn’t for North’s calming influence. It never takes much more than a large hand on both their shoulders and a few low words to get them to settle down and get past things, almost as if just having North around at all relaxes them both.

It’s a rhythm they’ve all become accustomed to, one they’re familiar with, and it’s why Wash and York are are a complete fucking loss when North shuts the door in their faces with some bullshit about wanting to be alone.

And of course Wash blames himself in no time at all, and York wishes he’d just stop that already but he’s not the one who can get through to Wash when he’s like this, it’s North, and he almost knocks on the door to get him before he remembers.

Well, shit.

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ichidou:

Going through some prompts to kick my brain in gear. This one’s from Zeus: Sister is Mystery Blue Guy.

… yeah.

“Director, are you sure she’s the best choice for this task? She is—”

“Agent Hawaii is more than capable, Counselor,” Church replies, not bothering to look up from the panels before him. “We need someone on the ground in Blood Gulch to get a handle on the situation. Vic’s reports are barely enough. Hawaii will retrieve the intel we require and extract before they even realize she’s there.”

“Yes, but what about her brother? Surely he’ll—”

“Private Grif was not sent to Blood Gulch on account of his intelligence, Counselor. Hawaii knows how to be discreet.”

“…Wait, what?”

“Never mind. Just send her out on the next Pelican. And make sure she doesn’t talk to the pilot.”

Oh yeah, since I can bring this back now - I wrote this with the idea in mind that since Sister is sent to replace Flowers on Blue Team, it would make sense for Freelancer!Sister to be sent to replace Florida. It was really hard not to give anything always, but hopefully now that the finale’s out it’s easier to see what I was going for.

imagineyuorotp:

Imagine your OTP making out passionately on the bed for the first time, only for Person A to fall off the edge of the bed and ruin the moment.

It started in a mess of tangled limbs and tousled hair, hands fumbling with way too many clothes, and Wash isn’t really sure which of them is kissing who, at this point, but he can’t even begin to care. There’s nothing but the warm heat against him, between York’s teasing strokes and North’s steady grip, and fuck if he doesn’t want them both naked five minutes ago and why did they wait this long to do this again?

Only when he lets go long enough to pull his shirt over his head, it’s at the very same moment York shifts beneath him. Wash topples back with a noise of pure surprise, eyes wide under the shirt over his head, and he yanks it off with a confused shake of his head, blinking up at the bed.

York’s grinning so wide that Wash knows he’s barely holding himself back from laughing, but a moment later he’s the one squawking as North pushes him down to the floor. “Hey—”

“Wash is right,” North says, climbing off the bed and kneeling down next to them, grinning against Wash’s jaw as he slides his palm over his chest. “Bed’s too small.”

York huffs, but Wash tugs on his arm, and none of them have anything to complain about soon enough.