I think the group is waaaay too nice to Murphy. Not only is he a dick, but almost every death on their journey up until season 4 is in service of keeping him alive or some byproduct of something he did.
Garnett jumped in front of a literal bullet and DIED for this mf. HE FUCKING DIEDDDD. Mack, died while chasing Murphy's ass down. Don't even get me started on Cassandra. I think there should've been a lot more animosity between the group and Murphy. The same way Murphy was bitter towards everyone after Lucy's death, everyone should've treated him the same after each death in service to him/the mission. Don't get me wrong, I still love him. I just think everyone needs to be meaner to him. Except for Doc. He could be our middle man peace keeper. At the very least, if the group isn't meaner to him, have Murphy feeling a lil more remorse or pity over the folks who died for him.
Pairing: Addy Carver sister!reader, 10k x reader, Z nation rewrite.
Inside, outside: When camp Blue Sky is destroyed, an unusual group of survivors band together to survive. With dangerous things happening around her at all times, Astra Carver, the younger sister of Addison, must learn how to adapt to life with zombies, betrayal, and love.
All chapters with smut will have* Warnings: blood, violence, sex, swearing
i started rewatching z-nation and it turns out i'd forgotten that our favorite fig newton was in it. his character's name is mack thompson and he's badass
read the first part here (not necessary to understand this one but theyre loosely connected!)
Pairing: 10k x reader
Summary: an apocalypse wedding! (aka doc officiates, murphy cries, and everyone is happy)
Word Count: 1.8k
Warnings: blood/violence mention
-
Holding a wedding during the apocalypse is surprisingly easy to put together if you let go of all pre-conceived expectations about what a wedding should be. There is no beautiful venue or a mass of guests or catered meals, no brand new dresses and tuxedos, no formalities of any kind.
Doc and Addy do most of the planning, and direct the others around for a whole week, cleaning out the business center of the motel you’ve commandeered and spending hours in the room constructing a venue fit for a zombie apocalypse wedding. Admittedly, the majority of the work rests in clearing the space of years worth of blood and bodies and debris.
Warren and Addy help you find a dress in an old thrift shop, and with a little sewing and a few rounds in a bin with soap, it’s halfway to a real dress. Murphy is on food, surprisingly enjoying the days he spends in the kitchen whipping up random items.
Doc officiates, having gotten ordained at some point before the world went to shit. He’s officiated a handful of hippie weddings, a few gay weddings, and even conducted a ceremony in divorce court, but a ceremony in the apocalypse is a little tricker.
10k stands in front of a dusty bathroom mirror in one of the motel rooms, a handful deemed usable by the group. A wedding means a well-needed reprieve from the mission and the endless traveling, and half the time here has been used for catching up on sleep.
10k adjusts his tie for the tenth time, and Mack ducks into the bathroom, shoving 10k’s hands out of the way and fixing the loops. He pats 10k on the arm, giving him a lopsided grin in the mirror.
“Not too late to run, man,” he says. One side of 10k’s mouth twitches, and he turns.
“Even if I did, she’d find me.”
“And kick your ass to the next century,” says Murphy, who isn’t 10k’s biggest fan - and vice versa - but seeing as you threatened to blow his hand off if he didn’t get out of your room, he’s resigned himself to bugging the guys.
“Murphy’s right on that one,” Doc says from the bedroom. “And could you blame her?”
10k and Mack head out into the main room where Doc and Murphy are getting ready. There wasn’t exactly a bridal shop to raid for matching dresses and suits, each garment odd and out of place, but it’s almost fitting, considering who everyone is.
The group is a patchwork family, dragged from each corner of the barren world and plopped together randomly with a mission to save a world that was long gone. It was never supposed to be a family, never supposed to be anything but a temporary survival tool.
At some point, though, the people around 10k became the only things that matter in the broken, bleeding world.
Murphy wears a suit with a pattern that can only be described as ’90’s arcade carpet’ with funky shapes and bright colors against a black base. On anyone else, it would look ridiculous, but Murphy is such a ridiculous character that the suit almost seems tame. Doc’s suit, inevitably, is covered in marijuana leaves. Mack’s is velvet and navy blue with soft purple flowers.
10k’s suit is a little more simple, though not by much. Deep maroon, with black undertones atop a white dress shirt. They couldn’t find fancy shoes, and 10k would have refused them anyway, so he still wears his beat up combat boots, and the outlines of weapons tucked into his pockets are lightly visible through the fabric.
He doesn’t feel like the kid with the rifle that he thinks of himself as. Not the warrior, the soldier, the child, but a man.
Doc comes up behind him and places his hands on 10k’s shoulders, squeezing lightly.
“Ready to get hitched, kid?”
10k gives him a tiny, nervous smile through the faded mirror. Doc pats his shoulders and steps away.
“Long as you don’t forget your vows, you’re good.”
10k blanches, and asks, “Wait, does that happen a lot?”
“All the time,” Murphy says. “Messes the whole thing right up.”
“Oh, fuck off, Murphy,” Mack says, hitting his hair with another spurt of hairspray before heading for the door, smacking Murphy hard on the back as he passes. “Stop trying to get in his head, and go make sure your pigs in a blanket aren’t burning.”
“Pigs in a blanket,” Murphy grumbles, following Mack to the door, “As if.”
-
The motel lobby has been transformed from apocalyptic wasteland to an, admittedly grimy, decently set up place. The creme colored walls have been scrubbed of dirt and blood, and various decorations - all unlatching - don the walls, likely snagged from various stores around the town. An arch made of plastic flowers has been nailed into the wall, and a few plastic chairs sit opposite it. There’s even a tiny, blue carpet that stretches between the chairs up to the arch.
The wedding is not traditional, and none of you wanted it to be. 10k doesn’t wait up at the head, instead behind the chairs with Doc, standing in front of you and Warren.
Today, while Doc and Warren are technically giving you away, the footsteps of everyone you’ve loved and lost - family and friends and strangers - stand behind you, their invisible hands in yours.
10k walks first, Doc leading him down the short carpet to the arch. Doc stands facing Mack, Murphy, Addy, and Cassandra in their chairs, and 10k stands beside him, facing the place you will take.
Warren leads you next, and as you walk, Addy and Mack croon an out-of-tune wedding march, and even Murphy, Cassandra, and Warren join in, the lobby filled with bad singing by the time you make it down the makeshift aisle.
10k’s lips part as he gets a full view of you, hair pinned up by Addy, light makeup scrounged from an old pharmacy painted on your face. The dress is clearly old, but clean, and beautiful.
It’s a little weird to see you without a gun in your hands and blood splattered across your cheek; you’re the most beautiful person 10k has ever seen in both situations. Here, in a wedding dress, and outside, blood-soaked and tight-lipped.
“Alright, that’s enough of that tone-deaf bullshit,” Doc says, waving at the others to quiet. They do, snickering, and Doc turns to you and 10k, standing opposite each other.
10k can’t look anywhere but at you, and the little smile on your lips, and the bright shine to your eyes, and the way the fabric of the dress hugs your silhouette.
“Ladies, gentleman, and whatever the hell Murphy is,” Doc says, earning an ignored ‘hey!’ From Murphy, “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two of the scariest teenagers I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.” Doc looks between you, a genuine smile pulling on his lips. “When we first found 10k, he was a young, innocent little killer who’d never even read a booby mag. And look at him now,” Doc says, waggling his brows at 10k, who smiles.
“And Y/N, the slumlord of the local Chuck E Cheese,” Doc says. You groan, and he continues. “Who knew that a little old 18 year old was the one who cleared that entire block of Z’s? You nearly took the kid’s head off when he tried to come in for supplies.”
You flash a grin at 10k, who shrugs, cheeks flushing pink.
“Both basically feral,” Doc says.
“Hey!” You protest.
“He’s not lying!” Warren calls, making the others snicker.
“And now, look at you.” Doc pauses, his smile turning sentimental, and 10k could swear he sees moisture in the older man’s eyes. “The world died, but you’re still here. Starting a family, even when the rest of this planet is trying to kill you daily.”
Someone sniffles, and 10k flashes a glance at the chairs, catching sight of Murphy swiping tears from his eyes before they fall. Addy, sitting beside him, snorts and pats his arm, to which he swats her back, fixing her with a glare.
“Have you prepared vows?” Doc asks. Both you and 10k nod.
“Ladies first,” he says, and your cheeks flush as you meet 10k’s gaze, a tiny smile tugging on your lips.
“I’m not really good at this. I mean, I never expected to get married. When there are dead people banging on your door, it’s kind of hard to think about the future, especially a happy one. I thought that all that stuff,” you say, “Marriage and love and family and happiness were old world things. Then you found me.” You reach out, taking his hands in yours, skin calloused and sturdy and familiar. “I didn’t think I was the type of person that deserved a great love story. And when the world ended, I knew for sure it was over. Then I met you. And you gave me the best love story anyone could ask for.”
Tears prick at the back of 10k’s eyes and he forces them back, threading his fingers through yours and squeezing once.
“You’re my best friend,” 10k says. “You know I’m not really good at the whole, talking thing. But you’re my home.” He inclines his head, a smile tugging on his lips. “You always have been. You always will be. And I’ll prove it to you every day, until we die, or get eaten by Z’s.”
You laugh, tears slipping down your cheeks, and you let go of one of 10k’s hands to wipe a tear from beneath his eyes, trapping the moisture on your thumb.
A loud sniffle sounds from the small audience, and you and 10k look over to see Murphy blowing his nose into a cloth Addy hands him.
“Now’s the time where we ask for any objections,” Doc says, “but we’re gonna skip that part.”
“We spent three days decorating this damn room, you bet we’re skipping it!” Warren says. You and 10k snicker, and turn back to one another.
“You can still run, you know,” you tease softly. One side of his mouth quirks up.
“I’m good,” he says. “You?”
“Good.”
“Well, alrighty then!” Doc exclaims. “By the power vested in me by the great, and now deceased, state of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now-”
You reach for 10k, pulling him toward you and catching your mouth in his before Doc is even done talking, winding your arms around his neck. His hands move to your waist, and he smiles as he kisses you, lips parting against yours.
Around you, your family - bound by blood and time and love you all fought for - cheers and claps and whistles. Even Murphy has stopped trying to hide his tears, and lets Doc - now crying, too - wrap him in a bear hug.
After, you spend the evening singing and dancing and drinking in the motel lobby, the people you love surrounding you.
It is not most people’s ideal wedding, but it’s a wedding fit for an apocalypse, and it’s perfect in every way. The world might still be dead, but you and the people you love aren’t. You’re here, and you’re alive.
