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wolf-555-writer · 4 years

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Target On My Back Part 8

Sad to say, but this it the last part of the series. Hope you like this one and hope you’ve enjoyed the other parts as well! Thanks for all the comments and reads, really appreciate hearing from you guys :)

And special thanks to @kaddistar . You’re amazing! Thanks for taking the time to read it beforehand and give me feedback to get all the facts straight. And obviously the fucking amazing backstory. Couldn’t have done it without you! :)

Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow x Reader

Summary: Having found her true match, Natasha starts to think that even though her dark past, she does deserve happiness. But then you get shot and she blames herself for it. For the mistake she made and she starts to doubt all over again. Will Natasha be able to defeat the demons in her mind and finally get that happiness she deserves?

Word Count: 5,162

Seated on the roof of the SHIELD facility, the place she goes when she wants to be alone and think. It’s been a couple of months now since the incident. The missions are not the same without you. Natasha leans back, resting on her elbows. She closes her eyes and sighs, letting out a long breath. There was no time to drive to Headquarters. You wouldn’t have made it. Badly wounded, Clint and Natasha carried you into an emergency unit twenty minutes away from the grim warehouse instead. They made it in thirteen. Hanging on by a thread. Immediately put down on a gurney. Rushed towards an operating room by a fair amount of doctors, all dressed in white. Flatline en route... She still recalls what her shaking hands had looked like. Red. Covered in your blood. The round had pierced the vest, and didn’t leave an innocent flesh wound behind. But if you hadn’t jumped in front of her, she wouldn’t be sitting here right now. She has gone over the mistake countless times. It wasn’t supposed to go that way. Why didn’t she anticipate what was coming? Had she been off her game? Did she underestimate him? Being distracted? Distracted by emotions? It doesn’t matter anymore. It was stupid. Stupid of you to jump in front of her. It should’ve been her.

Natasha pushes the thought away. It’s not a good memory. She closes her eyes again and shakes her head as if to clear away the image, making room for a better one. It’s not a special memory, but it’s at least a tiny spark of happiness hidden in all the bad.

“(Y/N), you just missed the turn”. “No I didn’t”, you say, voice full of certainty, driving in a crappy old car with Natalia riding shotgun. Actually, it’s a stolen, crappy old car, driving away from a successful assasination attempt that won’t ever be traced back to the two of you. Not driving too fast, or too slow, calm and relaxed, not drawing any attention at all. As you’ve been trained to do. Flashes of blue lights fly by, going in the other direction fast, accompanied by a wailing sound of sirens. “Where are we going?”, Natalia asks once again. The answer she has to settle for is a mysterious grin on your face, keeping your eyes focused on the road that’s being illuminated by the poorly working headlights. The breaks screech and the vehicle comes to a lingering halt. Leaving the headlights on in the dark of night, you get out of the piece of scrap-iron, but pop your head back in and say, “You coming or what?”. Natalia opens the door on the passenger side, not knowing what you’re up too, yet liking the mystery of it. And being here in the middle of nowhere with none other than you. She walks to the front, leaning against the hood of the car, hearing the calming sound of the gentle waves in the sea. She glances at you when you appear, holding an item in your hand. A glass bottle. Unscrewing the cap, you place yourself next to her, close of course, and smile. “Want some?”. “I thought you’d never ask”, she teases and grabs the vodka bottle, taking a sip, not breaking eye contact with you. “Beautiful view, isn’t it?”, you hint at her, staring into her fiery green eyes for a moment, then averting your gaze to the numerous stars in the sky above.

It was indeed a beautiful view, as well as the stars... she calls to mind when another Agent steps on the roof. Natasha speaks, “I can't. I just… I can't keep doing this”. “I know, it’s been months. Just give it some time”, the person replies. “I don’t know if I can do that…”. “You just have to hold on a little longer, okay? Can you do that?”. A hand squeezes her shoulder softly, trying to give the redhead some comfort.

“And don’t be so dramatic, Nat”, the Agent says, sitting down next to her. “I’m the one that actually took a bullet”. “Just let me have this moment okay”, she jokes, nudging her shoulder lightly against yours. “Some days I can't stand the Agent assigned with me”, she complains. “I'm constantly busy holding their hand or telling them what to do”.

“Ah, I see. That explains the drama”, you say using a sympathetic tone. “I just miss working with you”, Natasha reveals. “Don't go too hard on them, okay. I don't know if you've heard, but it's nearly impossible to keep up with the Agent Romanoff. She's just that good”. Natasha’s eyes glint and she grins at your last remark when a peaceful silence lays over the place for a minute.

“Were you thinking about that memory again?”, you ask her, referring to the moment you entered the rooftop earlier. The redhead stays silent and keeps staring at the clouded, grey horizon. “It’s a miracle I’m still an Agent you know”, she mentions after a couple of seconds, ignoring your question still. Borrowing a SHIELD helicopter - as Natasha phrased it - wasn’t taken up that well by the Director. However, he couldn’t argue with the end result, because she brought one of his best Agents back - like Fury expected she would. “Guess you are irreplaceable after all”, you react with a smile and cup her face with your left hand. “Especially to me”. You stroke her cheek with your thumb softly and stare into her eyes. She grins. “Wow, did you just make that up or was it rehearsed?”. “As a matter of fact, it came to me this very moment. I’m just that smooth”. Natasha rolls her eyes which is roughly translated to ‘how do I put up with this person’ and says, “Only ‘cause you took a bullet for me, otherwise…”. She doesn’t finish her sentence, instead leaned closer, and gives a sweet kiss on your lips which is more than happily accepted by you - not needing to know how that sentence ended anyway.

After your lips parted your expression hardens. “I’m sorry Nat”, you apologize. “Sorry? For what?”. You take her hand in yours and tilt your head down as a sign of failure. It takes a moment for you to speak again. “That… that I don’t remember. That I can’t remember all those memories from our past”. She lifts your chin up and locks eyes, that mesmerizing grin present, knowing exactly what to say. “Well, let’s make some unforgettable ones then”.

Your face gradually lights up and you shuffle to the right with the use of both arms. Closely settling beside Natasha and she rests her head on your shoulder quietly. Mind unwittingly wandering to the event that happened 3 months, 2 weeks and 6 days ago - you know, approximately. How your heart had stopped, and fortunately began beating again - or so you’ve been told. It's all a blurry mess in your mind between Natasha firing her Glock and you waking up, more or less in one piece, in a hospital bed. There’s however one thing you do recall crystal clear. While Natasha took the kill shot, you had jumped in front of her, just in time, due to the other not-succeeded kill shot that would've otherwise torn through your lover's tactical vest. And, even worse, through her heart. She says it was stupid of you, only you would do it again, and again, and again if it means saving her. But seriously, sometimes it feels as if there’s a real angel guarding over the high-risk life you’re living, preventing you from leaving this messed up world.

“How did they find us anyway?”, you wonder out loud, breaking the silence. Natasha looks up and takes a few seconds to gather an answer. “I doubt the KGB was searching for a presumed dead person, so I guess they found me. But, as you know, got you instead”. “Hmm catchy, ‘presumed dead person’”, you repeat ironically. “But I don't know how. Fury suspected that it was one of our own who talked” - the reason why he didn't officiate your retrieval, as to prevent a rescue team from walking into a possible ambush. Besides, the Director knows perfectly well how competent the former spy/assassin is on her own - “But there's still no proof to confirm that. So, or they're covering their tracks pretty damn good, or we just don't know. Doesn't really matter now”, Natasha concludes.

“What do you think would have happened if that KGB officer took me back? To Russia?”. Calling him your ‘dad’ hasn’t even crossed your mind. The bastard didn’t deserve it. He deserved to be shot. A retribution for what he had done to your loving mother who gave her life for you. Natasha responds firmly, “I wouldn't have let that happen”. “I know, but what if?”. “Brainwash you. Use you as their weapon. Again. He might not have been able to kill you, but it sure as hell wouldn't have been a happy family ending”. “Understatement of the year. I got all the family I need here anyways”. You glance at Natasha. She grins again. “You're really on a roll today huh”. With a silly smile you shrug your shoulders and lean closer again, just like Natasha, and receive a warm kiss once more.

“Are you sure you ready?”, Natasha caringly asks, giving her watch a quick peek. “Never been more ready”, you confidently state, waiting for this moment for what seems to be forever. Sitting still is not one of your qualities and you’ve been training day in and day out since you gained permission to get out of that uncomfortable infirmary bed. Preparing yourself for what you do best. Natasha studies you with narrowed eyes for a solid ten seconds first, “Good. That said, we should go. Can't be late for the briefing”, and jumps up. You slowly follow as if having all the time in the world. “Relax, it's fine. Coulson has a soft spot for us”. Your colleague raises her eyebrows at that statement and corrects, “For you, you mean”. “No, not only for me”, you reply defensively. “Yes he does, it's very obvious. You're his favorite”. You scoff and place your hands on your hips. “No I am not. Take it back”. Natasha marches towards the rooftop entrance and sticks with her point of view. “No, why would I? It's true”. “Okay, then I guess Director Fury has a soft spot for you, considering you still have your job”, you counter after having reached the entrance too by taking a sprint. “True, but I just call him Nick”. With a surprising smile you close the door behind you. “You're joking”. “Do I look like I'm joking?”. Natasha has raised one eyebrow with a dead-serious expression present. You wave your hand in a nonchalant way. “Pff, I'll just ask Maria”. “It's Agent Hill”. “You're so gonna regret that”. She laughs and bites her lip after saying, “Oh I can't wait”.

Natasha scans the crowded pavement across the street. A group of tourists following their guide closely while taking pictures of the same-looking shop-windows and of dull, concrete buildings. She doesn’t really see the point, taking a bunch of photos that will be stored away on some drive and never be looked at again. Her eyes move to a person who’s wearing headphones, a black hoodie, same colour backpack and ripped, faded jeans. Nope, too young. An expensive sports car pulls to the curb, and someone in a just-as-expensive suit, glossy golden watch showing off on his wrist, is shouting curse words into his phone while climbing out. Too rich. The SHIELD Agent is waiting patiently and leans back while speaking into her earpiece, “How’s it going?”.

A scope glides over ordinary people who are unaware that they’re being watched and fixes on the image of a woman, seated at a table outside of a cosy café. A cup of coffee in front of her, already empty, and wearing sunglasses to shield her eyes from the bright sun rays. She sits cross legged, a calm appearance, yet properly concealed from the public carrying a firearm and her hair is colored stunningly red. It’s Agent Romanoff.

A voice returns in Natasha’s ear. “Watching your every move”. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be looking at me”, she implies to the other SHIELD Agent present on this operation, who is located in a five-story building across the street, scanning the block from this ideal vantage point. Natasha lowers her sunglasses a bit and peers over the metal brim at an apartment window, precisely in your direction and raises her eyebrows. “Fine, but it’s not my fault that you’re the most beautiful view”, you suggest and move the scope to a group of people who are crossing the street because the walk signal just turned green.

“Focus (Y/N)”, Romanoff says with a professional tone, though a small smile present on her features, and lays eyes on someone exiting an alleyway. Brawny looking, rough beard and ragged coat, two sizes too large, meaning it’s easy to stow a weapon underneath. No, too short. “I can't seem to spot this guy”. “Me neither”, you reply, while Natasha’s eyesight already hit her next possible target. A man who has his hands tucked away deeply in his rain-coat pockets, a hat on, possibly to hide his face, and accidently bumped into a couple holding hands. He seems jumpy and is sweating nervously, not mentally stable at all. Too paranoid. Then onto a blond, short-haired guy, eating an unhealthy burger, watching his surroundings intently - sort of - from inside a dark law-enforcement SUV. Natasha rolls her eyes and sighs. Too obvious.

“And not to mention the guy’s kinda huge”, Barton adds, taking another bite of his cheeseburger as he stares out the half-tinted car window. “Always bringing useful information to the table, Barton”. Natasha knows she shouldn’t take it out on her close friend. But she’s currently well past the point of slight frustration. The intel is correct. It has to be, because she is the one who acquired it. Her sources never disappoint- she makes sure of that. After all, she is still Black Widow. So why hasn’t the guy shown up? The man entered the country two days ago and he’s here for one reason, and one reason only. To kill. So she shouldn’t have to explain why it is of great importance to locate and capture him.

“Wait, hold on”, you return. “Found him”. See, I knew I was right, Natasha thinks, constraining herself from gloating too much. Leave that for, well, never. She doesn’t care about bragging rights or taking the self-centered glory for herself. She only cares about getting the job done. Natasha has her heart rate, breathing and mind under complete control. She’s ready. This is where the actual operation is about to start. She patiently waits for you to disclose the location. But it stays awfully quiet.

You feel a cold, metal barrel pressed against the back of your neck. The comm in your ear is snatched out and crushed inside a beefy fist. Patted-down and disarmed too. Shit. Well at least I have the target… Taking the information you have on the man into heavy consideration, then making a run for it doesn't seem the most thoughtful action right now. Especially if you want to avoid another shot wound to showcase itself on your body. And if the bullet doesn’t kill me then Nat will definitely kill me for getting shot again…

“I still remember you”, a guy with a thick Russian accent speaks. “Yeah, seems to be going around a lot these days”. Word got out a certain KGB-snitch is still alive. And apparently you’ve pissed some people off - made even more enemies - during your previous employment.

With the butt of his gun he hits you in the head and grapples you by the collar of your jacket to brutally spin you around. Knocking you off balance, limiting a powerful counter-attack from your fist, or elbow, or knee, or- well, you get the point. Now away from the window, you face him, finally revealing himself. How in the world did this guy sneak up on you without you noticing? You didn’t hear a single sound. Not a light creak from the wooden floorboards. Or a squeaky hinge from the door. Not even a pair of footsteps. Guess he is a lot smarter than his appearance gives credit for. In addition to his covert approach, he also bypassed three- no, two-and-a-half SHIELD Agents surveilling the block and found your hiding spot too. You have to admit, the guy has some impressive skills, doesn’t mean it hurts less though. Big-guy shoves the SHIELD Agent against the red-brick wall next to the window you were previously monitoring out of and pushes the stiff barrel of the gun in the skin on your jawline. Well, he’s angry all right. You obviously did something to him that you can’t recall anymore. But it might be related to that nasty scar on the left side of his head that was recently covered by a blue baseball cap, and had just fallen off. “Some other friends of yours also gonna drop by?”, you challenge, which he answers with another hurtful strike of his handgun. You spit out some blood and mock, “Maybe they’ll hit harder”.

Big-guy’s expression doesn’t budge and your challenging remark earns you a steel fist to the stomach - Ouch - driving the much-needed air out of your lungs too. “You stupid if you think this ‘funny’ distracting will work. I still kill you for doing this”. With his free hand he points to the left side of his buzz-cut head. “And I work alone, is better that way”. Showing off your teeth that have become red with blood, you start to smile widely. “Well, that's a shame. Cause I don't”.

“Drop the gun”, a familiar voice orders. The man spins around and grabs you in a tight headlock, barking back at the SHIELD Agent, “No, you drop gun!”. Natasha hesitates but holds her aim. “I said drop it!”. His finger is now pressing on the trigger dangerously. “Do it, or I pull!”. She has a clear shot, but knows that if she takes it, he will too. And she is not looking to decorate these apartment walls with the insides of your skull. So, there’s only one option. “Alright, easy, easy”. She throws her palms up as a sign of surrender. “I'll drop it”. Is this her weakness? Would she have done this in any other situation? - meaning before you happened. Would she?

Natasha slowly lowers the gun to place it on the paneled floor and says to the guy, “Guess I forgot to look over my shoulder. It’s very important”. “Kick it away”, he grumbles. With her foot she slides the Glock towards Big-guy, also taking a small step in the process.

“Stay back! Keep hands up”, he shouts, prodding the muzzle of the gun against your temple aggressively. “Easy, easy”, Natasha says with her hands up again, now interlocked behind her head. “And this idiot forgot to look over shoulder”, he mocks with a hateful grimace and yanks on his arm, temporarily closing off your windpipe. “Jeez, thanks, I know I'm not perfect”, you cough-speak with a hoarse voice. Though, you do feel like an idiot. Too easily you got caught in this guy’s intense strong grip where it’s impossible to free yourself from. And even if you could pull it off, then there’s still the high, unavoidable chance of getting shot. Nice odds. Would this have happened if you hadn’t gone into the field today? Is it too fast? Maybe you should’ve taken more time to recover. The almost-fatal shot wound (the second one to be precise) has taken its toll on your body as you haven't reached your old physical level yet, lacking a weighted 10 percent still. The price to pay. Uncertain if you'll ever be able to reach that full 100 some day in the future. One thing is certain however, if this particular situation would’ve happened either way, then Natasha wouldn't have wanted anyone else other than you here. Somebody who thinks like her and understands her without telling or showing what to do. Somebody who can read her mind.

“But it's never too late to look over your shoulder, am I right?”, you state loudly. The humorless Russian has more strength, you’ve experienced that all too well. But what you lack in that department compared to him, you make up for in speed. “Huh?”. Before he can even comprehend what it is that you mean, you rotated your head to the side, as if looking- well, it’s not that hard to fill this in- and lowered your body just about enough to rule out an unfavourable outcome. A razor-sharp blade grazes your neck and thrusts into Big-guy, now sticking out of his chest below his collarbone. When putting her Glock down on the floor, Natasha had cleverly grabbed her knife from the sheath hidden at her ankle and threw it from behind her head, perfectly timed with your movement.

The tough guy screams in pain - remarkably in a high pitch for a dude his size - and tries to grasp the knife handle with his armed-hand, relaxing his other arm slightly. Which is more than enough for you. You grip his wrist and duck down, weaving under his bulky arm and stretch it behind his back in an unnatural position. Another cry of pain comes out and his knees buckle due to a firm kick in the back of them. The skilled knife-thrower, aka your colleague, has also jumped in, closing the distance first, and snapped the weapon that was about to be aimed at her out of his hand with a precise swing of her leg. “Impressive”, you say to the redhead, motioning to the sharp blade with your eyes, because currently you have your hands full.

At last an angry groan escapes Scar-face’s mouth when you safely detain him by cuffing his wrists together, nice and tight. Then your eyes shift to the doorpost, same as Natasha’s, when someone else arrives, severly out of breath. “What? Did I... miss all... the fun?”, Clint huffs, slightly bent over and leaning against the white-painted door frame with his arm. “We'll give you a little credit, okay Barton”, Natasha teases with a wink. “But you need to lay off the cheeseburgers. Probably better”, you advise your friend.

He looks up at you with an angry scowl which changes into concern promptly. “Hold up, you’re bleeding (Y/N)”. “Yeah, that seems to happen when I’m with the two of you”, you answer Barton, handing him the new detainee. “Wait- what exactly went down here?”, Clint asks suspiciously, pointing at the knife handle flaunting on the man’s chest. Natasha and you both shrug your shoulders in innocence. "Ugh, never mind", forcefully encouraging the massive, cuffed Russian towards the exit with an aggravated push, Agent Barton shakes his head as a reaction to his fellow Agents, “Why do I even ask”.

“First day back and you almost manage to get yourself shot again”, Natasha says, bumping your shoulder playfully while walking out of the apartment room side by side. “Yeah and it wasn’t even by you”, you joke. But when you glance at Natasha, you notice that she gives off an agitated impression. “Too soon?”

Holding up a small, squared mirror with a troubled expression, you hiss, “That’s definitely gonna be a scar”. Sorry, Natasha mouths, disinfecting the small wound on your neck that she caused after having cleaned up the dried, dark blood first. “Still, good thing you didn’t throw a Widow’s Bite. That wouldn’t have left a cut, but it would’ve hurted like hell”. “See, I do care about you”, she admits, tilting her head slightly, and putting down the medical supplies, “All done by the way”. “Yeah, love you too”, you say with an ironic tone and stand up from the exam table positioned against the back wall of the small infirmary. Mirror still in hand, you move it closer to your jawline once more and note, “Matching scars it is. Don’t even remember how that other one got there”. I do, Natasha thinks, but doesn’t consider it of great importance to tell. Could be because she was the cause of that one as well. So instead she says, with a quick wink, “Don’t worry, you’re still cute”, which makes your busted lips curve into a smile.

“Hey, you free the rest of the day?”, you ask the redhead, putting on a clean shirt - without a blood stain - and grab your leather jacket. “What are you up to?”, she replies with narrowed eyes. “Come on. It’s a surprise”. She is not a big fan of surprises, yet your mysterious look makes her very curious. So Natasha motions with an open hand to the door and says, “Lead the way”.

Having crossed half of SHIELD HQ by now, you encounter some other agents who are staring at Romanoff and you just a little too long with their judgy eyes. But you don’t care what they think of you or Natasha. Let them judge. About your shared past- which is actually unknown to them, because it's highly classified, strictly known by only a handful of people-, about your work as an agent, about your failures, not having a perfect record anymore. Nah, you don’t care. There are other, more important things to care about. And a special person in particular. Going inside an elevator that only goes to the basement levels of the building, you reach into your pocket. “I know it's probably not the same as that crappy car you told me about-”. Holding up two sets of keys, you look away and try to swallow a big lump that has formed in your throat, but feel a warm hand touching yours. “It's perfect”, Natasha says softly. “They are property of SHIELD, but I figured we could borrow them, all they do there is collecting dust anyway”, you continue. “I won't tell if you won't”, your now co-conspirator offers while you meet her fiery green eyes. You smile. “Deal”.

Entering the huge garage filled with a variety of exclusive vehicles as the excitement is radiating from your bruised face, you propose, “So, you wanna go for a ride then?”, throwing one set of keys her way. Catching them midair, Natasha gives the item in her palm a quick look. “You asked Coulson, didn’t you?”. You glare at her. “...No”. Natasha laughs. “I know when you’re lying”. “Okay, maybe”, you admit and proceed to your prefered means of transportation. The redhead eyes you and voices, “Told you. Totally his favorite”.

Before putting the matte black helmet on Natasha challenges, “It’s about time we finally see who is the fastest”. Also sitting on another motorcycle as you chuckle. “No cheating Romanoff”. “As long as you don’t put a hole in my back tire then we’re okay”, she counters sharply. Key in the ignition, ready to turn but you freeze at her reaction and look at her with narrowed eyes. “Too soon?”, she teases and closes the visor while speeding away with screeching tires. “You’re so gonna regret that”, you whisper and set the chase for Black Widow once more. This time with an entirely different intention. You tighten the grip on the handlebars with both hands and accelerate, leaving a trail of white-grey smoke behind.

Feeling the chilly sea breeze on your skin, you slowly open your eyes and meet an orange-yellow painted sky. After an interesting run both stopped at the side of some remote mountain road to take a break and enjoy the beautiful view - you know which one. Your fellow Agent’s bike is standing next to yours, who might have reached this destination a fraction of a second earlier, but you would deny that of course. Still seated, your arms wrapped around the waist of the woman who’s currently sharing the leather bike-seat with you, not ever thinking about letting her go. She’s leaning back, cuddled up to you closely as she’s in need of some warmth to counter the cooling air around her. Both staring at the horizon where the sun is gradually setting, your chin gently resting on her right shoulder. Natasha rotates her head a bit in your direction. “Was it my fault?”. “Nat- just drop it”. “Please?”. You sigh. “Okay, I was mad at Barton”. “Yes, I noticed. Everyone noticed. My question is, why?”. “I didn’t like him knowing my past”. “So it was my fault?”. “Well… and also that you and him were so close”. You pause and Natasha glances at you, waiting for your next words. “Maybe I was jealous”. She laughs. “Maybe?”. “I was dealing with a lot of emotions at the time, okay. Give me some slack”, you counter and quickly add, “But I have it under control now”. Natasha looks at you, proud, and buries herself into your safe embrace again, resting her head against the side of yours. “Yeah, me too”.

“Told Barton the same after we had some beers. All he did was laugh, like non-stop for ten minutes”, you say with a light grumpy tone. “I totally understand why he laughed his ass off. I mean come on, ‘jealous’?”, Natasha says with a chuckle. “Clint and I are just good friends. You and I are-”. “Complicated?”, you finish with a half-smile. “Much more and will always be, is what I was about to say”, she mentions with a corrective voice. Shit, I almost forgot… You move one arm away from Natasha’s waist and still feel the item in your jacket pocket.

“I know we shouldn’t… but I brought something”. The redhead glances over her shoulder to look at your hand. Natasha’s eyes sparkle and she wants to speak, but is at a loss of words, and quietly takes one. “Cheers”, you whisper in her ear, holding up the bottle filled with vodka next to hers, “To making new memories”. She clings the glass with yours and repeats, “To making new memories”. And both take a chug of the strong alcoholic liquid. You wince a little. Oof, strong stuff. Yet Natasha seems unaffected by the Russian booze and gazes at the horizon again. Staring into the wide, unknown world, where nothing is certain. Except for one thing.

The target on your back will never go away, is what Coulson had said the moment you woke up from the almost fatal shot wound - the second one. It's a part of you. Of your past. Of your current job. You'll have to carry it with you until the end. What the end may ever be. You turn your head slightly to the left, and know it will be alright. No, not till the next time.

But till the end.

Tags: @5aftermidnight, @ohfuckno

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flamingo-writes · 6 years

Text

Your Hands Only — Levi Ackerman x Reader

Multipart — [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Index]

Summary: The expedition outside the walls is about to begun, prejudice and uncertainty seem to drag you down at the beginning of the mission, however, things take a drastic change once a titan is chasing after you.

Word Count: 3440 (slightly longer chapter, I got carried away writing ehehe)

A/N: I’d like to give a special shout out to @salty-levi . I was about to start editing this chapter to post it when I read their feedback and not only motivated me, they also made my day, so thank you a lot c: If you’d like to be tagged in this story whenever there’s a new chapter, let me know. Also don’t forget to leave feedback, is very well appreciated c:

Warnings: swearing (I think all of my chapters have swearing in them, idk)

Life outside the walls was a complete mystery for you. And as you were well aware of it, it brought some sort of hopeful spark in Levi's stare. Your free day with Levi was perfect. Too perfect. You'd gotten to learn so much about each other, and one of those things you learned about him was about how he longed for a new age with no titans, where humanity can actually prosper in this vast world. He went as far as visualising himself opening a tea shop once this was all over. Something that warmed you beyond measure. A soldier, with the gift of being able to slaughter titans in a heartbeat, dreaming of having a quiet life with his tea shop.

He told you about the horrors and wonders that lied beyond the walls. That sense of freedom accompanied with uncertainty. Green lands and tall dense forest, as well as humanity's predators; titans. Last time you came across them it was certainly not a pleasant time. Staring practically into death's eyes, and you were lucky enough to slip away from that. It was awful. Just the memory made you get chills down your spine, reminding you how short life was. However, Levi's fascination for the outside ignited your heart with the same motivation that fuelled him to attack against titans. With the difference that he knew how to fight them. "You save lives, you don't take them" Levi had once told you after you talked about joining the Survey Corps. He was reluctant to the idea of having you fight titans along with everyone else. He'd agreed to teach you how to use the ODM Gear along with how to use the blades. But not to fight them. It was important that you knew how to defend yourself from them, but going directly towards them to kill them put you at a greater risk. And Levi was well aware of how many people died while trying to kill their first titan. He didn't want to run those risks with your life at stake. The Survey Corps gathered at the doors, ready to leave. Strategy and formation in mind. Erwin had gone over the plan briefly before parting; just in case. When you and Levi arrived, you felt everyone's stares on you two. It was no secret to the Corps that Levi had gotten a doctor to ride with them in the mission, but seeing it was you, it fuelled the rumours -which were no longer rumours- specially among the soldiers. Captain Levi had an affair with his doctor. Or so everyone liked to gossip. But it was much more complex than just an affair. For the last years, there wasn't even such thing, but undisclosed feelings. And now, neither of you had the intention of keeping it a secret, and certainly, it wasn't going to be a casual thing. You didn't talk about it, but you knew you wanted to stay with Levi, and Levi knew he only wanted to be with you. Levi introduced you to his team, and gave them the instructions to keep you safe no matter what. Everyone saw you like a mythological creature. After all. you'd been able to steal the heart of a man, people didn't even know, had a heart. Specially the only girl in the team; Petra. She'd gotten used to be the only woman riding in his squad. She pursued his approval and was quite proud of herself, not to mention the repressed feelings she had for him. Feelings she tried to deny herself when she first heard the rumours of Levi and his doctor. She glared at you jealously as Levi gave his instructions to his team. You weren't really aware of it since you had your heart on your throat about to jump out, making you terribly excited and terrified of going outside the walls for the first time. "Isn't it going to be a little bit...inconvenient...to have someone completely inexperienced with us in such an important mission?" Petra asked sassily, as you made eye contact with her for the first time and realising she didn't like you. "Its inconvenient of you're not confident in your skills. You're supposed to be trained soldeirs, besides its not the first time you've been outside the walls, so act like it. We always have any form on inconvenient, it's your job to work past those obstacles, is it not?" Levi was no fool, and immediately picked up on Petra’s tone. Petra gulped her pried as her glare moved from yours to Levi's. She nodded as her eyes met his cold glare. As Levi got on his horse, you mirrored him. Making sure your bag of supplies and materials was secured to the saddle. "We're going to get ourselves killed while trying keep Miss 'I'm not Levi's lover, I'm his doctor' alive" Petra whispered sourly. You felt repulsed by her whisper, making you feel unwanted and angry. But you swallowed it and thought about all the important things you had ahead, not letting this little thing get the best of you. However, Levi had listened too. And unlike you, he didn't have as much patience. "What did you say?" Levi snapped in a low voice, as he turned around staring into Petra. The girl immediately felt her body turn stone cold, knowing Levi had heard to every word she just said. That was a rhetorical question, she knew Levi wasn’t playing dumb, but he was trying to teach a lesson. "I-I...I-I'm sorry, Captai..." "Don't fucking apologise to me. Apologise to her. If I could hear you, so did she" he barked. "Next time, you better behave like the grown up you're supposed to be" "I'm sorry, Doctor..." Petra whispered embarassed, feeling the pitty stares of all the team on her. "She's not a soldier" Levi snapped, staring at his team "But she is a doctor. She's perfectly well trained to attend emergencies. Since we lose a considerable number of soldiers in every expedition, the majority of them die on our way back to the walls, precisely because they don't receive proper medical attention. Let's face it, our first aid knowledge is quite mediocre, I've learned that thanks to her. That's why I brought her with us, so we lose a minimal number of soldiers. She may not be of much help while facing titans, but she will definitely save the lives of all those soldiers who end up wounded. You don't know if one day she'll be the one who saves your life, so I suggest to you..." he said his eyes piercing into Petra's "...show her more respect, because you'll never know when your life is going to depend on her" "Yes sir" "And for the record. Quit listening to all that bullshit you hear. Gossip is so fucking annoying. People should learn to mind their own bloody business. As far as I know, none of you has even bothered to ask me directly what is going on, if you’re really that curious then ask me personally" his cold severe stare went from his subordinates, moving slowly until he met your eyes. Hos eyes on you had a gentler look in them, even apologetic. "I'm sorry you had to hear that" "It's alright...I don't really mind" "The fact that you don't mind doesn't make it alright. It was rude, and I want to apologise on her behalf" "Okay then, apology accepted" you muttered looking at him and then looking at Petra who looked utterly embarrassed, avoiding eye contact.

You all got in your positions, as time was getting shorter before you left the safety withing the walls. An awkward silence embraced all of the squad, making the tension almost palpable. Petra was blushing, feeling both terribly embarrassed and angry.

However, one of the guys in Levi’s squad decided to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Captain, may I ask, if everything that we had heard about you two is...as you said it, bullshit...then, what’s...if I’m not being nosey...what are you...are you just doctor and patient?” The guy asked awkwardly, making his partners chuckle under their breaths at his question.

“She’s my girlfriend. So no, it’s not a casual affair, and it isn’t something secret” Levi answered firmly without looking back.

All of his team looked at him surprised. Surprised that a cold man like him could actually have feelings for someone. All of their stares moved from him to you, as you looked at him, wide eyed, surprised as much as everyone else. You felt yourself blush lightly. You never thought he’d be that straight forward with anyone who asked him about you two.

* It was indescribable the adrenaline you felt when you saw the first flares going up in the air. It was a different form of both excitement and fear. It was different. This was defying death by staring at it once again. Time was going stupidly fast, it was hard to keep track of everything that was happening all at once. In the open field, seeing the Female Titan running in a strange matter, almost as if she was searching for something, as if she was looking for someone. By the time you reached the forest everything got worse. Not being able to fully see the titans in the distance made everything feel on edge. Behind any tree, a titan could appear at any given time. The tall tree’s making the horizon blurry. Levi followed Eren, and as the Female Titan got closer, Levi's team began using their ODM gear ready to fight the Titan. As soon as they began leaving their horses, one of the guys in the team took you with him and placed you on a high branch of a tree. It was the same guy who had asked Levi about the both of you. "You better take her somewhere safe, if something happens to her he'll fucking kill you"

You remembered hearing before you were taken to a safe spot. However, things didn’t get any better. It was heart crushing, seeing how the titan was taking one by one, making you feel helpless. She crushed them with such an ease, as if you were insects. It was a terrifying view, seeing how each one of those young soldiers died, along with your hope. *

Time went by slowly, as tears dried on your cheeks, and the image of Levi’s squad being killed right before of your eyes kept playing inside your head. It was the last of your worries how you were going to get down of the tree, you were too terrified to even want to go back to the ground.

It didn't take long for you to spot someone in an ODM Gear slide by. You recognised Erwin and yelled his name, in an attempt to get some company, someone who could tell you it was all going to be alright. And there was no better person than Erwin at this moment. Being the great leader that he was, he could certainly help you calm down and get your head back in the game before you keep going forward. Erwin upon hearing your voice, he followed it until he found your hiding place high in the tree. Such was your happiness from seeing a familiar face right after living such shocking experience, you hugged Erwin, sobbing, explaining him what had happened. He hugged you back tightly, patting your back gently. Aside from being one of your most loyal patients, Erwin was your friend. He was one of the few friends you had, hence the fact that he was one of the closest people you had in your life. "It's alright, I'm here now" he said squeezing you tightly. "You're alright, and that's what matters. C'mon, the show must go on, Y/N" he said breaking the hug, holding your shoulders tightly as his blue eyes looked into yours.

His eyes looked so serene and so calm, you envied him and his ability to keep calm in such a time. It was ironic, since you could focus perfectly while a patient was dying on you. But this felt different, and it was hard for you to keep your composure under this circumstances. * Levi and Mikasa headed towards the entrance to the Tall Forest, where the survivors rode back to the walls. After failing at capturing the Female Titan, they’d failed to get even the slightest piece of information. The only thing they got was injuries, and Levi a twisted ankle. Out of the forest, heading back to the walls, soldiers were riding their horses, other few soldiers walking. And a lot of wagons carrying those wounded soldiers who couldn't walk. Levi landed, feeling the sharp pain of his twisted ankle. He walked, trying to ignore the pain, and also trying to avoid putting all of his weight in his wounded foot. He walked towards the closest soldier, as they saluted him. "Captain" the soldier said. "Erwin was looking for you earlier" The soldier said, noticing the slight limp Levi had. "He's here?" Levi questioned.

"He's with the doctor" the guy said pointing far in the distance.

Levi’s eyes followed the soldier’s hand where he spotted Erwin riding his horse, and pulling another horse next to him. In front of Erwin was a wagon with a wounded soldier, and you sitting next to him, checking up the soldier’s wounds. He felt like he’d found something that he’d been desperately looking for, a sudden relieved. "She's alive" Levi sighed relaxed as he began walking towards the wagon. "Captain, you're hurt..." The soldier added loudly as soon as Levi had turned around and started walking away. "It's nothing serious" Levi answered. "You shouldn't be walking like that...” The soldier said, as Levi stopped and turned around, meeting the worried soldier’s eyes. “Here take my horse" The man got down of his horse and stretched his arm with the rein tightly in his hand, offering it to Levi. "Don't you need it?" Levi asked. "No, not really. I can walk” They exchanged stares for a while without saying anything. “Please” The soldier finally said as Levi agreed and walked towards the soldier. "Thank you" He said taking the rein, and mounting the horse.

He exchanged stares with the soldier once again, and bowed his hand gratefully before he rode towards you and Erwin. The soldier nodded in response and watched him leave.

"Captain Levi" Erwin greeted him when his horse caught up with Erwin's. "Your team..." "I know. Their deaths will not be in vain" he said "How’s Y/N?" "She’s over there, she’s alright...One of your guys put her somewhere safe before they went after the Female Titan" Erwin jerked his head forward, a few feet ahead you were trying to stop a soldier's bleeding, focused on your work, you didn't see Levi next to Erwin. It wasn't until several minutes later, you managed to stop the bleeding. You stayed a couple of minutes more with the soldier, checking his vital signs, until you were sure he was stable. When you looked up from your patient, you immediately noticed Levi who was looking at you. You hadn't heard anything of him, and feared that he was dead. And seeing him before you, safe and sound, made you feel like you could finally breathe again. You jumped off the wagon and walked towards him. Levi stopped his horse and got down as you reached him. You stopped a couple steps away from him, and looked at him as your eyes got filled with tears and your heart bolted in excitement. "You're alright" you said taking a step forward and hugging him tightly. "I just hurt my ankle, but that can wait" he said breaking the hug, cupping your cheek with one of his hands "how about you?" "I'm alright...I-I'm sorry about your team...they...I'm very sorry" you mumbled. "It's alright” He sighed, resting his forehead against yours “Keep doing your magic..." "Levi, your ankle..." You whispered. "Other soldiers need you more right now. Once you're done with the emergencies you can check me up" He said. "Yessir" "I'm so glad you're alive" he said kissing your forehead. "Now, go" you nodded obediently and walked towards Erwin who had your horse next to his. * You were almost back in the walls when you went through all the serious wounded soldiers, just a few had died before you made it to them. But the number of deaths was lower that it usually was. It was all thanks to you. "Does it hurt much?" You said pressing your fingers tightly on Levi's swollen ankle, as both of you sat on a wagon with another wounded soldier with a broken leg. "Not much" "You sure? It is pretty swollen" You said meeting his eyes. "You know I can deal with pain perfectly well..." "I know, it can be dangerous you know?” You scolded him gently “You might as well end up hurting yourself even more because you're not that sensitive to pain" you sighed. "I can give you some anti-inflammatories and put on a bandage to give your ankle a little but more support...” You looked in your bag for bandages, and kept doing your work, as Levi watched you attentively as you bandaged his ankle, your touch delicate against his skin. “Rest” You told him once you finished. “I know you won't like to hear this but, you'll have to lay off for at least two weeks. Two long weeks without missions for you"

You could tell from his stare that he wasn’t amused. He liked going out of the walls, see the green pastures, and endless horizon. And staying inside the walls made him feel homestuck and desperate. "Fine” He agreed bitterly “I have a question, though" "Hmm?" You hummed. "Will you be going to missions with the Survey Corps?" "You tell me, boss. Will I?" After all, Levi was your boss, so whether if you were going to keep attending the expeditions depended whatever he decided. "I told Erwin you'd be riding with my team, since they were the most trust worthy to keep you safe...the only one I'd trust to protect you is Erwin. It's up to him" Levi said as his eyes looked for Erwin in the crowd. "We'll talk to him about it later, then" * After a debriefing, Levi stayed in Erwin's office after everyone had left. Levi told him about his injury and how he needed to rest for at least two weeks. He then asked about what was going to happen with you as the Survey Corp's doctor. "I reckon you don't like the idea of she being out there, exposed, without you watching over her?" Levi, however, didn't reply to Erwin's question. "It's up to her. If she wants to, she can keep going with us, if she does, I'll have her ride with me, so you can relax... I'll keep an eye on her...Although, we have to teach her how to use the ODM gear, preferably soon..." "So, let her decide?" Levi repeated. "Yes. Ask her tonight. Report back to me her answer. If she agrees to come with us, we'll have to start teaching her how to use the ODM gear right away. Lets say three days from today" "Alright" "Take care, Levi" Erwin said. “Rest” "I will, thanks Erwin" Levi said leaving the Chief’s office. * When Levi returned to his place from Erwin's office, he found you and Pascal sitting on the kitchen table, shoulder to shoulder, as he told you about his day in the library. He spoke excitedly about a new book on virology he found. Levi liked seeing you two together. In the beginning you'd look at him as if he was a puppy you were looking after, now you two easily passed as mother and son. The teenager looked at you with an expressive admiration as you looked at him lovingly. He felt jealous of the boy. Levi's childhood was definitely not the best, he certainly wished he had a better one. Just like Levi, Pascal lost his family, however, Pascal was blessed with a second chance of having a family, something Levi didn't. "Levi!" Pascal stood up from his chair greeting him with a warm smile. "Welcome home" He hadn't seen Pascal since you two left for the mission, and being greeted by such warm smile made him feel cared for. Something not many people made him feel. Home...He thought as his gaze was fixed on the both of you. I’m home...

Tags: @crazyliraz, @simplysushii, @inthefleshme, @brvakout, @jadav5,

#attack on titan #aot #attack on titan imagine #aot imagines #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin imagines #snk imagines #snk #levi ackerman #levi aot #levi #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader

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sailor-cresselia · 6 years

Text

Try and Re-Build

They can't stay here.

This version of Touto is so, so much better off then the one they left. (The one they... replaced? Repaired? … erased?)

But it hurts to be here.

It hurts so, so much to encounter these people, to even see the strangers carrying names and wearing faces that they met and knew, that they fought against and alongside.

They thought about meeting them, and trying again, at first.

But it would be cruel.

Not just for themselves, but for the others too.

Sento and Ryuuga both know full well that they wouldn't be able to separate their friends who lived there from the people who live here, and that’s not fair to these familiar strangers.

It's just too hard, seeing a laughing farmer and his friends, who never had to give up their humanity so their families could live, but who can joke and cheer and relax.

(And isn’t it strange that he still falls for the same girl?)

Seeing politician and his son, who hadn't been worn down and torn to pieces by a war, but are thriving and whole.

Seeing an engineer and a reporter who didn’t have their lives planned, but who got to choose their own paths.

(And isn’t it strange that the dynamics shift, but the choices are still so similar?)

Seeing a pair of goofs with a band, and a successful one at that.

(And isn’t it strange, that even after endangering him, they never thought to tell Tatsuya that Sento wasn’t Satou Taro, did they? They probably should have… but how do you tell someone that? And there was no time. Just one more mistake.)

Seeing a father who runs a booming cafe.

(And they never even knew him the first time around, did they? It was never really him back then.)

Seeing a daughter who goes shopping and sings karaoke with her friends and smiles, who doesn’t carry that awful weight and guilt of being used and tricked on her shoulders.

(And why couldn’t they have seen sooner that she blamed herself? Yet another mistake.)

Seeing a woman who got treatment and recovered.

(It hurts so much that she won’t know him – not this version of him.)

Seeing a man who never had to throw a fight.

(The monkey jokes are harsher looking back – and also couldn’t have been further from the mark.)

Seeing a scientist who openly loves his parents.

(Did she know it was him? Even when he didn’t know who he was, did she?)

(Did she know his father was still alive, too?)

~ ~ ~

Identities are a problem, too. Sento has one mans face and memories for another two, and Ryuuga has a fully-human double born seven months after him. They don’t (didn’t?) exist here – not in a way that fits the shape of this new world.

They have a phone that's a bike, and a mechanical dragon that hasn't woken up. (Ryuuga hopes it will, someday. He grew fond of the little guy.)

They've got two belts, and two bottles - one silver, one gold.

(Neither has tried using them. It feels like it would be bad luck to try, but that it would be even worse to get rid of them.)

Kiryu Sento and Banjou Ryuuga cannot stay in Touto, which is properly a city again, not a war-torn city-district-region-country hybrid.

WAS it a city in their world? They aren’t really sure anymore. Neither of them remember much of politics before the Skywall. Sento only ever really picked up (was given?) memories through Takumi's days in high school, and what happened after Katsuragi Takumi ‘woke up.’ Besides, Takumi was focused considerable more on science than… well, pretty much anything else. Banjou was 13 – he was just a kid! – when the wall went up, and a lot of his youth was blurred and smudged and faded by Evolt.

(Back home, it was Quite A Day when he realized that Misora was the only one there younger than him. Kazumin called him a kid for a week.)

~ ~ ~

They can’t stay here.

So. they leave.

They leave the city that they remember but don't know.

~ ~ ~

And finding work is hard when you don't have a past that doesn’t and can’t match the world you’re in, and everything down to the roads just isn’t the same compared to the ones you know/remember/knew.

History is one of the biggest differences.

~ ~ ~

They look up the history of the other Earth, to see how far back it diverged from their own. They go back 25 years, and there hasn’t been anything that returned from Mars. So that's a good sign, they guess.

(They hope.)

They go back further, to make sure they don’t say the wrong things, and start looking up cultural changes as well, to make sure they can pass for people who’ve been here all along.

They come across something weird.

It's an urban legend fansite, sure, and neither of them is sure how they actually GOT to that page. But that picture is…

It’s a photo from the early 1970’s – discolored by age and grainy from being digitized. It’s off center, and crooked, and looks amateur, but there’s no reason to think it’s not real.

A photo of two men on a cliff, doing posing next to a pair of motorcycles.

Wearing full masks and armored bodysuits.

And captioned as the “first known photo of Kamen Riders 1 and 2 together.”

~ ~ ~

So. That’s not something they had either.

~ ~ ~

The pair who fought as Build and Cross-Z dig deeper. And as they get closer to the present, more and more warriors of justice fighting under the name (title?) of Kamen Rider show up.

There's a period after the early 1990’s where the records sort of stop, and no new heroes show up for a while, but around 2000 the Riders start appearing again.

Some of them are rumors, and urban legends, but others are definitely on record as being real.

And they keep reading, and the closer to the present the more familiar things get.

8 years ago - rumors of a Rider in black with a partner who didn't QUITE pass for human.

7 years ago - a high school that focused on space and science, with sightings of a Rider in silver.

Ryuuga has been to that school, and been rescued by the warriors in those blurry, hastily shot photos.

5 years ago - an archived site for a dance competition that turned into monster fights that turned into battles between members in armor that then stopped reporting, then followed by accounts of describe a city turned into a war zone.

That first armored rider helped get Sento to Ex-Aid’s world. To what might be THIS world.

Neither of them have wanted to talk about the nagging worry they've both had the past month, living here on this other earth.

3 years ago - a temple that has never gone out of their way to confirm the rumors of a Rider in black and orange, but has never gone out of their way to deny them, either.

The concern about what happened that brought them here, alive. What brought them here when neither expected to come out of that last battle with Evolt.

2 years ago - news footage and reports from this worlds Seito, about a digital viral outbreak and the Riders that fought it - and the press conference covering the aftermath, led by a doctor with a face that appears in two sets of memories in one persons head.

The fear that “they didn't get it right.”

7 months ago - News articles about a resurgence of the virus and a giant mechanical hand reaching to the sky.

That “maybe they didn't fix anything.”

7 months ago - terrified social media posts about another earth in the sky, one that had a jagged red scar.

That “maybe they just left home.”

7 months ago - still frames from amateur videos of two Riders fighting a gear themed enemy.

That “maybe they just took themselves out of the equation.”

7 months ago – two riders, a constant and an unknown,

That “maybe they left everything behind -

7 months ago - a rider in gold, with a name and reputation to put to the mask,

“- left everyONE behind -

7 months ago - and a rider in blue and red, never seen before or since.

“maybe everyone else is gone and the people here - these same-but-different people we know-but-don't - are just the alternate versions, not merged or remade or saved, but just preexisting familiar faces that will never, ever replace the ones that I just ran away from and left behind to d--”

And Sento didn't even know he was talking until he couldn't get the words out, until he was choking on fears and doubts and grief and guilt, and sobbing at things that were “all his-and-my fault and he-and-I did this and brought so, so much suffering and then just ran away and I didn’t even have the decency to remember-”

And Banjou grabs him, holding him close in almost a death grip to keep this stupid, egotistical, terrified genius from shaking himself to pieces - physical, mental, emotional, whatever. And he’s shaking too, because he hasn't wanted to think about these possibilities, either.

Hasn’t wanted to think about how maybe they messed up – that he's the one who messed it up, because if nothing else, the other him shows that black-hole bastards or no, he is consistently a muscle-headed fighter, and if anyone that was there that day screwed up the creation of a literal world it would be him…

So, he keeps saying quiet, ragged reassurances to his best friend - only friend now that the others are strangers again - both of them red-eyed and hoarse and SCARED, because they just. Don't know what really happened in and after that gap in reality where space and time and energy were colliding and tearing apart. And that not knowing, that's terrifying, for both of them but neither have dared bring it up for just this reason. It’s so, so terrifying to have so much information and yet still have nothing but questions.

He doesn’t say it, but he can see. It's awful for Banjou, the not knowing. But not understanding isn’t really NEW to him – confused has kind of been his default state since they met and he hasn’t hid that at all – but Sento? Kiryu Sento had really only existed for a year before they met at a factory and a fight, and been manipulated and lied to and trying to find himself and coming up with nothing. He made so much of his identity out of his smarts and on Build and just kept hiding anything that didn’t fit the person he was or could have been or could be – that didn’t have a place in the puzzle of his past. He hid whatever he could fit behind the mask of a grinning nerd and the helmet of a warrior for love and peace.

Then they were thrown into war, and so, so many awful things had happened, and Banjou hadn’t said anything back home, hasn’t said anything here and still doesn’t, but he’d been seeing it for months. He’s seen his friend shouldering worry and stress and doubt until he broke and then hid that behind the same smile and behind his work and the fighting. The war dragged and grew and got worse and more personal and Sento had just kept taking it on himself and bearing it and breaking and kept going anyway.

This is definitely not the time for that talk. It’s even less time for anyone to bring up that half of those fights… that both of them kept going in with no plans for making it out after.

It’s not the time for that, but they’re at a park, the one they stayed in last night, and they should probably find somewhere else for this because they’re two sobbing wrecks who can’t explain this to anyone else. They can barely explain it to themselves.

“We're out of our element here, aren’t we? Listen, man, you can't lose yourself to this, okay? Who else'll be the brains of this outfit? Pretty sure we’re both screwed if it's me.”

He chuckles, half-hearted and hoarse and so, so tired. Looks like he’ll have to take the lead for a while.

“This is messed up. I know. So just… take your time and breath, okay? When you’re ready, we can go and… I dunno, find some of these other Riders, maybe? And we can try to get some answers.

“Just don't GO, okay? We're in this together, Sento, we have to stick together.

“We're all we've got."

#Kamen Rider Build #so it looks like i'm an asshole #because i want to write fix fic #but this came into my head instead #i was supposed to be working but it was a slow day #which is for the best because i was crying writing the first draft #i want to be nice to the boys but they won't let me #i want to help them really #but so much has changed for them #and it can't go back #i want them to be happy but i can't get them there yet #where did they wind up #that's the real problem #i will ride this inspiration train until it runs out of track

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sorceressmidnight · 6 years

Text

Midnight Sorceress

Chapter: 9/? [1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - ?]

Chapter 9: I can’t lose her...

Words: 2281

Warnings: Some cursing, hospitalization, potential death, emotional break down

Primarily following the events of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, it revolves around an original character.

Description as posted on ao3: A member of SHIELD is forced to struggle with her mental stability and keeping her secret as the craziness surrounding the Avengers crashes around her. She ends up befriending Tony and Pepper, who help out her mental health a great deal, but will they be able to help her with her secret? Something that could destroy her if she uses it too much… What will happen when Tony tries to convince her to use it to help the Avengers?

Read on ao3: here

Tags: @txnystarkimagines @h0bsyrup

Hit me up if you want to be tagged in future chapters.

This chapter happens during a bit before and during Captain America Civil War. Some spoilers for Spider-man: Homecoming.

Kiana ran up to the car that was parked nearby, leaning against it while smiling at the two males nearby. One was this ‘Spider-man’ that Tony went to go talk to, a teen named Peter, and the other was Tony’s friend and chauffeur Happy Hogan. “H-Hey, fellas. Are we ready to go?” her voice cracked a bit as she said ‘hey’, smiling awkwardly at the two.

“Wait, wait, wait. Tony never said anything about bringing you to the airport.” Happy responded, brows furrowed as he rubbed his temple. “Hey, hey, now… Calm down~ I know you’re annoyed you have to babysit the kid, but you know me. I never cause any trouble. Besides, it was kind of a last minute change,” she waved her hand back and forth, “Tony told me he wanted me to get familiar with the kid. I mean, hey, I might be working with him sometime in the future after all.” Happy sighed, “fine, get in. We don’t really have a lot of time to argue about this, so let’s go.” Both Peter and Kiana slid into the backseat, the female watching as the younger recorded his journey. After a short interaction between the two males, Happy rolled up the window to avoid further conversation. “H-hi… I’m Peter,” he started off a bit awkwardly, not quite sure what to say, “So… uh… Y-you know Tony?” “Yeah, I mean,” she gave a small smile as she twirled her hair between her fingers, “we are kind of dating. I’ve known him, personally anyway, since after the Mandarin incident a couple of years ago.” “Oh! S-sorry… I didn’t know.” “It’s fine,” she laughed softly, “it hasn’t exactly gotten out there yet. He didn’t want to drag me into the public eye until things settle out a little bit.” He gave a quiet ‘I see’ in response, the car growing silent as both of them retreated into their own thoughts. The only sounds that could be heard were the other cars speeding by and the slight rattle when the car drove over small debris in the road. “What did you mean we might be working together?” he finally managed to ask, clearly having thought it over after a minute to himself. “Do you know where we’re going to?” “Of course. I actually helped a lot back during the Sokovia fight.” “Wait, wait…” he paused to think. “I think I’ve heard about you… Are you… the Midnight Sorceress?” he gestured his hands in the way she usually did when she fought, causing the other to give a small giggle. “Yep, that’s me.” “That’s so cool! I… I still can’t believe I’m actually going to be fighting alongside the Avengers.” “You’ll actually be fighting against some of them,” she laughed softly, “although no idea where Thor or Bruce is. Admittedly let’s keep this, me coming with you guys and all, between us, okay? I’m hoping that I can avoid joining the fight, so I don’t want anyone to know I’m here just yet.” “Yeah, of course.” “Thanks, kid,” she giggled and pulling him into a hug.

“Hey, should I go to the bathroom before?” Peter asked Happy as they climbed onto the plane, carrying his stuff with him. “There’s a bathroom on it,” Happy sighed as they got into it. Peter quickly gawked at the lack of a pilot before plopping down in the seat across from Happy. “Is that where you’re going to sit?” “Yeah.” “Is this your first time in a private plane?” “First time on any plane!” Happy stood up and walked to a chair a bit away from him, sitting down. Kiana slid over to the seat that the other male had just left, smiling at the younger. “Don’t mind him. He’s just a little bit… I don’t think he likes the idea of being a ‘babysitter’. Of course he wouldn’t argue with Tony, though.” “Yeah, seems like it. So, Tony gave me some basics… but would you be able to explain a bit more of what’s going on?” “Steve, Cap, doesn’t agree with the accords. It’s politics, so it’s never easy, but… Tony’s right. We can work on revising the accords later, but we need to work with the public right now. There’s been a lot of damage and now there are a few fires we need to put out.” “I see. So we need to stop him before something worse happens?” “Yep. Hopefully things go smoothly, but knowing how stubborn he and Tony can be I doubt it. Just be careful out there on the battlefield, okay? I know you want to impress ‘Mr. Stark’, but don’t go beyond your limits. I know you’re strong, but you’re still a teenager.” “I understand. Any advice you can give me against the guys we’re fighting?” “Has Tony told you anything?” He explained what he said, and she gave a few of her own tips for him as well.

Tony (Iron Man), Natasha (Black Widow), T’Challa (Black Panther), Rhodey (War Machine), Vision, and Peter (Spider-Man) fought against Steve (Captain America), Bucky (Winter Soldier), Clint (Hawkeye), Sam (Falcon), Wanda (Scarlet Witch), and Scott (Ant-Man). Everyone started fighting against someone on the opposing team, each person desperately trying to stop the other in an attempt to move forward with their own agendas. Kiana was on top of the roof as she watched the fighting, making sure to stay just out of sight. She bit her lip as she watched everyone get knocked around, wanting to step in and try to help or stop everything. Vision destroyed part of the airport, attempting to stop Bucky and Steve from getting to a quinjet in the nearby hangar. She was the first to see the jet leaving, using her powers to allow her to run along the rooftops towards the direction they were headed. By the time she got to the edge of the roof, attempting to slow the jet down with her powers, she felt the air rush by her as Tony, Rhodey, and Sam flew past her. She bit her lip as she realized she had to stop, hoping that the two could get to them before they left out of the area. It was then Vision attempted to stop Sam with his powers, hitting Rhodey as the other narrowly dodged the blast. Her jaw dropped as she watched him beginning to fall, realizing that neither of the two would reach him before he plummeted into the ground. Ignoring everything in her body screaming at her not to, she used the full extent of her powers to lift the surrounding dirt and using it to grab him from the sky. She slowly lowered him to the ground as quickly as she could, her vision failing her as everything became blurry. There was a great stabbing pain throughout her body, but at the same time she felt numb. She struggled to walk towards a more stable area of the roof, knees buckling as she could no longer manage to keep control of her body, sliding off of the edge of the roof towards the others in the airport. “Kiki, I’ve contacted Mr. Stark and an ambulance is on the way. There isn’t much else I can do since you did not bring your suit. I’m currently attempting to reach another member of the team.” she heard through her earpiece, the blue and white blur of the skies starting to fade from her sights as darkness covered it. “Tell Tony… I love him,” she barely managed to spurt out before she passed out. On the ground below, Clint was the first one to run towards where she was falling, just barely managing to get her before she hit the ground below. Frantically he checked her for a pulse, feeling a faint one before attempting to wake her up. “Kiki, come on, you’ve been through worse than this. Come on,” he hissed through gritted teeth. Tony landed just then with Rhodey, flipping up his face plate and going towards the two. “Barton, give her to me and I can take her to the hospital,” he said, trying to hold back his own mixture of emotions in the current matter. “If she dies…” he turned and glared up at him, anger boiling through his veins, “it’s your fault. You should have never let her come and fight! You knew she wasn’t fully healed after the last fight!” “Let her?!” he scoffed, anger in his tone rising, “I didn’t even know she was here! I told her not to come!” “Maybe you should have had her locked up somewhere, too, for her safety.” Clint scoffed while rolling his eyes, finally letting him take her as they started rounding up the remaining members who fought against them.

“How… How is she doing?” Tony asked, voice a little shaken up as he talked to the doctor. No one was allowed to see her for the past few days and that worried him. He knew he had to go off to finish what was started, but he couldn’t pry himself away from the hospital. “She’s currently comatose. Although there are little to no outer wounds or bruising, many of her bones were broken, problems with her muscles and ligaments, and internal hemorrhaging. It appears her powers derived the extra boost it needed in order to accomplish what she did from tearing her body apart internally.” “Great,” he sighed and rubbed his temple. He wanted to be mad, but he just… he couldn’t feel. Everything felt like it was a bad bedtime story or a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. It was almost like he was watching someone else’s life. “Is she going to be okay?” “Physically? She’ll be fine. Her body will heal and we’ll make sure the bleeding stops. Mentally? I’m unsure. There is one other thing that concerns me, though…” He pulled him into a nearby room and flipped the light on, putting up two scans of her head. They were pretty much identical, except for a small foreign object in her brain; the one on the right being bigger than the one on the left. “This scan? This was from her last physical. Yes, the object is still there, but at that point it was small enough to allow blood to pass through. It can’t be said when the object got bigger, but we’ll need to operate immediately as to avoid any brain damage.” “Oh… What will happen?” He could feel his focus slipping, but he struggled as hard as he could to stay with him. “We’re not sure at this point, but what we’re worried about is what will if we don’t. We need to operate, soon, Mr. Stark. We need an approval from someone close to her before we technically can. If you approve this now we can start the operation as soon as possible, if not we will get in contact with her parents and as soon as they agree we would start.” “No, no… If you have to do it now, then you have my approval. I have to call someone, though. This is the person you can contact if you can’t reach me. She’ll be able to answer any questions you have.” “We will give you a call to let you know how she takes the operation.”

Tony sighed as he leaned against the outer wall of the hospital, staring up at the sky. He could feel and hear his heartbeat in his ears, pulse picking up as his eyes began to sting. Rubbing the slight tears away, he mumbled to himself before reaching in his pocket and pulling out his phone. He scrolled until he saw the familiar redhead, throat closing as his chest tightened, pressing the call button and pulling it against his ear. He didn’t know how she would take the sudden call, but he had to talk to her. There was a short pause between the rings, background noise filling the silence as she answered. “Hello?” “H-hey, Pep…” his voice cracked involuntarily, struggling to keep himself together, “I know we haven’t talked in awhile… but it’s kind of important.” “Oh god…” she could hear the tone in his voice, worry filling her own, “you’re not dying again, are you?” “God,” he gave a soft broken laugh, “I wish it were that simple.” “Then what’s wrong?” “It’s Kiki. She…” he stopped as he struggled to get the words out, letting out a shaky breath, “she’s in the hospital. I… C-can you stay with her?” “She’s… in the hospital?” her heart dropped as she licked her lips, “Of… of course! Where is she? What happened?” The questions came so fast out of her mouth that it was almost dizzying, forcing herself to take a couple of deep breaths afterwards. “Well,” he couldn’t stop his voice from breaking as he told her what happened, “she’s comatose right now. She’s got… a lot of internal injuries… and…” He stopped as he rubbed his eyes, sighing. “They have to remove something from her brain. They don’t,” he couldn’t stop his soft sob, “They don’t know what’s going to happen. We might lose her Pep…” He repeated the last sentence softly through sobs, body shaking as he shook his head. “I’ll.. I’ll be right there. I’m bringing Sammy with me, too…” she wiped tears away. “Just text me the address.” “Thank you… Thank you…” He hung up and sent the address to her. He slid down along the wall, resting his arms on his knees as he hid his head between them. He couldn’t stop himself from fully breaking down into tears, nails digging into the fabric of his pants. “I can’t lose her…”

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cherry-o-piggy · 3 years

Text

And old slew

posted 3/7/2021

I think my number one requirement is that you keep up, which only the mentally ill do.

What does it say about me that all my friends are ADHD?

The black boys, they pass and bob and chat to rap like it’s beat poetry in the 1960s. Here with them I am in a modern historical moment of art discovering my aesthetic and true calling. I see this after a bias worry on repeat, looking back it was not a real fear, just a humorous societal conception, and who have I ever been to subscribe to society. Me and my white girl friend out smoked them in their own home and my friend, I hugged him in front of his friends, and he walked us out of his house like a true gentleman. It was truly the part of my soul that I wanted to share in a social setting.

“You’re not in charge of me, T[redacted] is.”

It’s 10 degrees in the dark and it’s just me and my skin wrapped in tight black fabric flying up the powdered hill like I was never meant to touch the ground in the first place. It is still 10 degrees and I’m replaying everything that has ever happened like maybe I’ll get a second chance that I don’t need, but want still. The 10 degrees rummage around in my bones and all the pain this new year brought, the pain of becoming women, intertwines itself with my heart so there is no difference. The 10 degrees keep me warm, from the pit of my stomach to my chest and red cheeks. It’s enough right now.

The concept of solidarity flowed from Budimir’s lips along with sweeties and engagement, and I truly think it is the first concept I ever truly understood. I do not know respect or love or good. But I know solidarity, I know solidarity deep down in my bones and my blood and my soul. And it just goes to show, it was never me, I just never met a good teacher.

My lust still rides with you, for safe keeping.

I don’t remember what your voice sounds like anymore, I used to be able to hear it in my head.

Every man both looks like you and the man who wanted me dead.

Sometimes I am hollowed out enough that the only feeling I have is my hands and they don’t seem to bare my heart’s intentions. But it is a much deeper part of my being they represent, one I wish someone worse would fulfill for me. Pity I am the only beautiful thing.

Part of my soul is an iris in the wind.

A wealthy woman in the glass, a thesis sustaining the validity of age regression in design and mini-practice, and collections combatting change in order to hold on to something.

There was a few moments of my life where I was obsessed with the devil in the woods by the ocean and the magic I would be allowed if I could just exist somewhere beautiful to be a little odd in peace with equally passionate companionship. While the other burn outs dream of fantasy I dream of psudeo-realistic peace because I could never get there by myself, let alone with the chaos of another sentiment being.

You wouldn’t like me anymore. I’m an existentialist bc I am completely and totally unsure of myself as a concept. And it makes it immensely easier to flow along with the process of getting what I want.

In the dark the voice pokes at suicide in the highest of highest and I drown out the noise with the hope that in that grainy moment 5 guys ago you flicked away my perfect tears with your tongue and I was too intimate and vulnerable to fully feel it.

With a face this expressively cute and a brain this overwhelmingly neat I deserve a man to compliment my abundance completely.

I bet no one thinks about me at all. But that would be naive and hopeful.

If he is only supplying money as his position in your life, as soon as the money stops he no longer needs to be taken into consideration when making decisions because he is no longer a part of your life. If the only value you have is the provision of the bare necessities and no emotional connection you have no purpose after you no longer supply the means of survival because you made the decision and only did a quarter of the work needed to take responsibility for that decision.

Time isn’t who she used to be. Time used to drag and suffocate and strangle. Now Time is broad watercolor strokes to blurry, cotton eyes. I live the same day over and over with the same amount of nothing but I still do not feel the suffocation of monotonous repetition, not like I used to when I was young. I feel unfulfilled still, empty still. But it is not overwhelming. And this nothing that happens, the absolute repetition of activity happens so quickly now. Not like it used to. I feel like I’m always playing catch up. There’s never enough time, or maybe I am newly blind to her movement? Whatever the case, Time and I are strangers now, which is such a shame because I used to know her intricately, anxiously so.

Sometimes I dissolve into words, I think that’s why everything moves so fast.

I’m going to force my oddity on man and disregard everyone that has anything at all to say. I always said I was crazy, which drew extensive attention, but I no longer think that is fitting for me and who I aspire to become. I think I desire much more to be odd than to be mad. Eccentric.

A man bought me six and a half hours (after tax) worth of stuffed animals. And I haven’t even had sex with him. Fuck, that kind of feels like debt. Can I like hang out w him and like “drop” $50 somewhere he’ll eventually notice. I’ve never had to do that before, but I am willing to go that far. Actually, I did that to my GM last break (and I shouldn’t have, I deserve better compensation for my labor, but I refuse to be rude ever).

Why would I want a man that smells like wood?

Hanging out w me is like just me saying “no babies” over and over in different voices.

The feeling drips like sunflower blue syrup down my back. It feels too sharp to be harmless, but too quick to enjoy. And it leaves my chest hollow after it’s appearance. My limbs are heavy and my head is worried about the fluttering around that happened inside my chest last night, I wasn’t sure if it was death or symptoms of suffocation. My lungs just filled and I grasped my body from within my soul and when it was sufficient and neat, I dove back into the harmful thoughts of lust and the gripping behavior caused by being lonesome. This feeling doesn’t flow, it’s too stuck, it remains mine. So instead it drips.

I want to scream that I am good at what I do because a piece of me always felt that you doubted me. I am good enough that I read a love poem out loud to my high school class with the girl in the class and I didn’t get bullied for it, it didn’t scare her away, and my teacher complimented me about it. I was known by the whole high school as a writer and it wasn’t in a bad way. I used to write and edit peoples papers and I was an English tutor for middle school. My English 101 professor told me I should Publish my paper based on the three paragraphs that I wrote in twenty minutes right in front of him. I have not read a full book since sophomore year of high school and I am able to break down structures and themes of books by picking through about 30 pages, and from that I can developed a thesis, a five paragraph outline, research questions, and eventually a 6 page paper from 30 pages of a novel. I hung out with someone, read then my poetry and they were surprised that it was not cringe. Every English teacher I’ve ever had has loved me. I was already so familiar with the English language and the concept of grammar rules and their functions that I could speak in limited vocabulary sentences in Spanish when I was taking Spanish 2 (did I cry every single day, yes, but did I get an A, also yes). When I tell you I am a writer, I mean that it is my soul. It is the only reason I am alive. When I tell you I am good at what I do I mean I’m already published. Twice. I am good at what I do. So yeah, I know what a fucking genre is, bitch.

Even my abusers will tell you I’m good at what I do.

I need someone to press their soul into mine so that I am sure I have one.

Good morning honey bun 💛 I hope you have a wonderful day today and I’ll be sending good thoughts your way all day :) love you ❤️❤️

8 year old me would think I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. I remember how critical I was of other women, I remember the way I used to pick them apart in my head about all their imperfects. It’s bc I only heard those things about myself. And I’m not proud, but I was a child and I am completely different now. I remember my favorite parts about women too. I remember how I used to melt for long hair and belly button piercings and being unashamed. I am tall and wealthy and have a million expressions. 8 year old me would stare at me in the store and hope to be her, 8 year old me would love to be 17 year old me. It’s all she ever wanted. I am everything I ever wanted. I am gorgeous.

Sometimes it’s claymation filter and my body is yellow and I am ugly and when I laugh my teeth are bucked. I get so clear that I am ugly. I get so outside of my own perspective that I have never uttered my own name.

I am so self aware and violently gone and ridiculous. And I’ve been wanting this. That I thank god for planning and hard work.

I’m a slut. :) beep

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illumynare · 7 years

Text

Red vs Blue fic: Gift of the Magi (8/12)

Summary: Wash has already gone through too much, been broken too often. So when they get captured by Hargrove together, Tucker figures he has one job: until the cavalry shows up, keep Wash alive and (relatively) sane. No matter the cost.

Unfortunately, Wash is just as determined to protect him.

Parings: None. Warnings: Rated M. Canon-typical language, aftermath of canonical character death, psychological torture, hallucinations, hallucinated child harm, mentions of torture and suicide, fake-out character death.

Notes: Also available on AO3!

Wash wakes up back in his cell. He's stripped down to his undersuit—he feels raw and naked without his armor—and his whole body aches.

I disobeyed orders. Tucker will pay for it.

The thought drums through his head, over and over. All he's tried to do, ever since they got captured, is keep Tucker safe. It's the only mission he has left, now that Caboose is dead. And now, because he froze up, Tucker is going to be punished.

Just because he didn't want to kill Palomo.

Tucker wouldn't want him to kill Palomo.

Wash manages to get to his feet. Hargrove is probably going to come talk to him soon. And Wash has to have something to say to him, some way to keep him from punishing Tucker for Wash's disobedience.

Why the fuck couldn't he have killed Palomo?

It feels just like Alpha's memories. Locked up alone, knowing he fucked up, waiting to hear how bad the consequences are going to be. He can almost hear the Director's voice saying, I'm sorry to tell you, Lavernius Tucker is—

Wash slams his fist into the wall, but the pain is barely enough to ground him. He's on the edge of a panic attack, his skin crawling and his breath fluttering and his mind a swirl of I'm sorry to tell you I'm sorry simulation_011111 get me out get me out I'm sorry I'm so tired—

He takes a deep breath. Rolls his fingers into fists, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.

He has to think. He need a plan.

Are they still on Chorus? Wash doesn't know how the raid at the tractor beam tower ended. Maybe they've already cleared orbit, maybe Carolina and the rest will never find them—

He flexes his fingers again. Focus.

Wherever they are, Hargrove still needs someone to work for him. Wash is sure of that. Otherwise, he'd dead already, after the stunt he pulled. Instead Tucker's going to pay for it, maybe die for it—

Unless. Unless.

Wash volunteered to work for Hargrove because otherwise, it was going to be Tucker. Because Tucker doesn't deserve to be strapped down on the medical bed, his implants pried open and an AI jammed into his skull to make him an obedient weapon.

But it's better than Tucker being dead.

If Wash can just convince Hargrove that he's useless now, that Tucker is the only one who's likely to work for him now—

Hargrove will probably use him for leverage against Tucker. Will certainly punish him. But Tucker will live, and that's all that matters, now.

It's all Wash can hope for, now.

So when the viewscreen in his cell flickers to life, Wash is ready. When Hargrove says, "Do you care to explain your behavior, Agent Washington?" he just squares his shoulders—

I'm sorry, did something about my actions indicate I expect to survive?

—and he says, "I'm not going to work for you anymore."

His heart is pounding wildly. He knows how risky this is. Hargrove could decide to have Tucker shot this minute, but the only way that Tucker gets out of here alive is if Hargrove decides to focus on breaking Wash instead.

Hargrove wants somebody to work for him who knows Chorus, who could be devastating when used against Chorus. Captain Tucker would be a better man for that job than Agent Washington.

(Tucker was a better man even before Wash turned into a murderer.)

"I thought we had an agreement," says Hargrove.

"That was before you sent me to kill my own men," says Wash. "Twice. Get Tucker to do your dirty work. I'm done."

Hargrove gives him a couple seconds of that soulless, lizard-like gaze. Then he says, "Perhaps it's time for me to teach you a lesson."

If he hadn't spent so long as Recovery One, Wash wouldn't be able to keep his voice calm as he says, "If you kill Tucker, you won't have anything left to use against me."

"I find that most people become obedient once they're sufficiently broken," says Hargrove. "Lavernius Tucker certainly did."

There's a roaring in Wash's ears. Tucker seemed okay last time they spoke—but he's not sure how long it's been, he's lost so much time—

"And I won't kill him," Hargrove continues. "You will. Command code one-one-foxtrot-five."

And the Mark IV drones, Initiating remote control mode.

Tucker doesn't throw the teleportation grenade fast enough, and the pirates shoot Carolina, rip Epsilon screaming out of her skull, and then kill Wash and Caboose.

Tucker dies alone at Sandtrap, bleeding out while squeezed between the wall and a fallen rock, knowing that no one is coming, no one is coming—

Tucker is extradited to Sanghelios, and they've spent years planning how to punish him.

None of it matters anymore. Because through all of it, Junior is dead and Tucker knows it, even when he can't remember.

None of it is real, and he knows that too.

At some point, he's sitting in his cell again. Is it a simulation? Fuck if he cares.

Church is there. It's nice, having him around. He's not real, but Tucker isn't picky at this point. He can see Church now, a little glowing blue figure floating by his knee, waving his hands as he rambles about something that Caboose once did.

If Tucker closes his eyes, he can almost imagine that they're back in Blood Gulch, just talking about pointless bullshit. He can pretend it's early days, before Chorus, before they met any Freelancers except Tex, before Junior—

He thinks the name, and shudders.

My kid he was my kid I killed my—

"Tucker! You're getting distracted, man."

His eyes open. Church floats in front of him, arms crossed.

"What?" asks Tucker. "It's not like we've got to keep watch on the Reds."

"No," says Church, "but you never know when— Uh-oh."

He vanishes, suddenly, like he's trying to hide. A second later, the door opens, and there are more guards.

"Wow, you guys cannot get enough of me," Tucker says as they drag him out into the hallway, but his heart is pounding and the world is starting to feel kind of blurry around him. He knows what's happening, what's going to happen, and he's afraid. Maybe he always kind of knows that everything is fake now, but it still fucking hurts getting shot in the gut and stabbed in the eye and strangled by people in power armor.

It hurts watching his friends die, too.

But it's cool. Tucker is totally cool with this. He's protecting Wash, right?

That's the only thing he's good for now.

They drag him into . . . he thinks it's a training room, maybe. Big and wide, with an observation deck overhead. Hargrove is up there, peering down.

Wash stands at the center of the room. He's out of his armor for once, wearing just his kevlar undersuit, and Tucker would make a joke about it except that Wash is holding a pistol, and his face is, his eyes are—

It's the same expression he had when they pulled him out of his armor on Sidewinder. That look of hurting so bad, he doesn't know who he is anymore.

The guards shove Tucker to his knees and step back.

"Tucker," says Wash, his voice sounding strange and choked, as his hands tighten on the gun.

Huh. Tucker doesn't remember the simulation starting. Maybe it was already running back in his cell. Maybe nothing's been real since they strapped him the first time. That would be nice.

"Pistol-whip him," says Hargrove over the loudspeaker, and Wash's eyes widen.

The next second, the blow slams into Tucker's forehead. Stars dance across his vision, and the pain rings on and on through his head. It takes him a little while to realize that he's on the ground, that Wash is talking.

"—sorry," Wash is saying quietly, desperately. But he isn't moving to give Tucker a hand; he's standing straight and still, the pistol clenched in his hands. "I'm sorry, Tucker, I can't stop—"

"I'd like to remind you, Agent Washington," says Hargrove, "that you're the reason for this situation."

"If you make me kill him," says Wash, biting out each word, "I will never stop fighting you."

Tucker manages to get back up on his knees. He feels dizzy, but he grins because this is cool, it's all cool. He's been killed by Wash like fifteen times before, he can absolutely take another shot.

"Nah, go ahead, man," he tells Wash. "It's fine."

You can’t make this any worse, motherfuckers, he thinks.

"What?" says Wash, his voice gone small and fragile.

And then Church appears in front of him, arms waving. "Tucker! Tucker, this is real!"

Tucker stares at him, baffled for a moment. "That's . . . what she said?"

"What did you do to him?" Wash demands, looking up at Hargrove.

Church winks out of sight, but he's still talking silently, in Tucker's head. Seriously, man, you're not in the machine, this is real and YOU'RE GOING TO DIE unless you do something!

How about you do something, Tucker thinks. You're Blue Team Captain.

Okay, one, Wash is Blue Team Captain now, and two, I'm dead.

The fuck? You're right here.

You decided you're hallucinating me, right?

Yeah, so why should I believe you?

Oh my GOD just get yourself out of here.

There's a cold weight against Tucker's forehead.

He blinks, realizes what's happening. Wash has the gun pressed to Tucker's forehead, and shit, Tucker's trying to be cool, but he can't help the way he starts shaking because—

This is such fucking bullshit.

But he has to keep Wash safe.

"Tucker," Wash chokes out. "I'm sorry, they put an A.I. in me, I can't—I can't—"

And he sounds so fucking broken, like he did the time he had to leave Tucker pinned under a crashed Warthog and bleeding out, because Caboose was wounded but could still be saved. Tucker thought that simulation was real when it happened, and he remembers trying to tell Wash it was okay while he choked on his own blood. He knows this isn't real now, but he still can't help wanting to comfort Wash.

"It's okay, dude," he says. "I know you don't want to hurt me."

Wash has never wanted to hurt him. Make him miserable, sure. Drive him up the fucking wall, almost every day. Break him and train him into being a good soldier, absolutely. But Tucker has total faith that Wash has never, ever wanted to hurt him. Ever since Sidewinder, all Wash has ever tried to do is keep Blue Team safe.

All Tucker wants to do now is measure up to that. He can still hope for that much, right?

He knows this is just a simulation, but he lets himself pretend that he isn't alone, that he's talking to the real Wash.

"As long as you're safe," he says, "it's okay."

Wash stares at him. Tucker closes his eyes and waits for the gunshot.

He's done this before. It's going to be fine.

The shot is so loud, it's like a punch to the head. Tucker flinches—

—he flinches and he hears Church says OH FUCK—

—and he realizes, I'm alive.

He opens his eyes, and meets Wash's eyes for one instant.

Then Wash topples over. Other people are shouting, but they sound incredibly far away. Tucker is staring at Wash, at the blood seeping out from the hole in his chest, at the way his face is draining of color and his eyes are glazing over.

"No," says Tucker. "No—Wash—"

This isn't right, it never goes like this—he's had to see Wash die a lot of times, but the simulations never have Wash put a gun to Tucker's head and then not kill him—

It's not real. He's going to wake up.

But he doesn't.

The adrenaline's crashing through his veins, is making his heart pound and his hands shake, and Tucker isn't waking up. The blood's spreading out in a pool around Wash, his face is so pale the freckles look almost black, and Tucker isn't waking up.

Wash's eyes close, and Tucker can't wake up.

Shit, he thinks, as the guards push past him, and somebody yells for a medic.

Shit. This is real.

#rvb #rvb fic #agent washington #lavernius tucker #red vs blue #my fic #my fic: gift of the magi

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astral-writings · 7 years

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Amnesiac

Word Count: 1,898 Reader Gender: Female I guess idk Warnings: None (i think????) Love Interest: Bucky Note: Sorry this took so long to post. Every time I tried to post it my internet would mysteriously cut out and eventually I just got frustrated and gave up haha. But I have returned in hopes that I’ll be able to finally post it ♥

I ran down the street, rain hitting my face like bullets. There was a big storm passing through the city, and I was one of the few people brave enough to be in it. Or stupid enough. Either way, I didn’t have an umbrella with me; the storm was so sudden, and it’s normally sunny around here. As I ran across the street, a dark and blurry figure caught my eye. Well, he was only blurry due to the rain. I hesitated before running up to it, not at all sure what it was. As I approached the figure, I noticed it was a human being.

A man, to be more specific. He was in dark jeans, and a darkly coloured thin sweater. I felt his neck for a pulse, relieved to find out that he was alive. I looked at his torso, noticing normal breathing patterns. The only thing signaling that he ended up here at all were the multiple bruises and cuts that littered his body. I shook his shoulder harshly, my expectations of him waking up coming to a sudden halt. After a few more minutes of trying, I gave up on my attempts to be gentle, and gave him a slap instead.

“Ow, what the hell?” He asked, voice laced with sleep.

“I’m sorry, are you alright?” I asked and he looked at me warily.

“Fine.” He said shortly, eyeing me.

“Do you live far from here?” I questioned.

“I don’t know.” He said after a moment, now looking confused.

“Do you remember anything?” I questioned.

“No.” He said shortly again, confusion now replaced with irritation.

“Well,” I paused, “You can come to my place, I’ll patch you up.”

We locked eyes for a long moment, and I could sense his distrust. In the moment of silence we shared, I was able to look at him a bit clearer. His had a bit of scruff, obviously signaling that he hadn’t shaved in a few days. His hair was quite long, but it suited him somehow. He was shivering slightly, and it became evident that he was trying his best to appear completely calm. I stood back up, offering a hand to him.

“Come on, if I was trying to kill you, would I have bothered with waking you up?” I questioned.

He narrowed his eyes at me, silence continuing to fill the air. He finally took my hand, and I helped him stand. He limped a bit as he walked, but I wasn’t about to ask about it. If he really does have amnesia, then me asking him what happened right now is like talking to a brick wall. I shrugged off my jacket, the cold and rainy hair hitting my covered skin. I draped it over his shoulders, and he looked at me curiously.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“You’re cold.” I said simply and he grunted.

“Yeah, but isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?” He asked and I shrugged.

“I’m alright.” I lied coolly.

“Bullshit.” He said.

“Well, I’m not taking it back until we get to my place, so suck it up.” I said stubbornly, and he just shook his head.

That day was a few weeks ago, and in that time he’s managed to remember little things. Like his name, where he was born, and all of that stuff. His wounds have healed, and the smaller cuts have vanished. Unfortunately, during this time I’ve found myself falling for the somewhat mysterious man that resided in my house. He’s taken to calling me ‘Doll’ rather than my actual name and, despite how often I tell him not to, I actually do enjoy it. It makes me blush a little, and I think that’s why he does it.

He also cusses like a sailor, which is fine by me, I’m the same way. He’s yet to remember everything, or how he even ended up on the street in the first place. It’s bound to come soon, and it scares me a little. That’s also partially why I haven’t told him how I feel about him. I’m scared that when he remembers he’ll leave and never look back. Or worse, it turns out he’s married with 8 kids. I heard footsteps enter the living room, and I looked who they came from. Bucky.

“What’s up, Doll?” He asked, sitting beside me.

“The damn television won’t work right.” I grumbled.

“You try turning it on?” He said smartly.

“Oh, ha ha, let’s all make fun of the one time I had a fucking mind blank.” I huffed.

“Just one time?” He asked, laughing a little when I hit his arm.

“You’re an ass.” I huffed.

“I’m a damn delight.” He said and I rolled my eyes.

“I’ll make sure to remember that.” I said sarcastically.

I cleared my throat as I went to go get what I called the ‘Bucky Kit’. I gave up of calling it First Aid when he was the only one I was using it on. When I got back he was already out of his tank top, the bandages on his chest now exposed. His torso was almost fully healed, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I’d feel awful if anything got infected and he ended up needing surgery. Plus, he has this phobia with hospitals and shit. Me trying to get him inside the hospital might be just as hard as getting the T.V. remote from him.

I took off his bandages, looking for any signs of an infection. When I didn’t find one, I began cleaning the dirt off of his chest. He didn’t have a lot, seeing as how I properly care for his wounds. I felt heat rise to my cheeks, a sea of inappropriate thoughts entering my brain. I cleared my throat, hoping to clear the thoughts along with it. I focused on cleaning him up, and after a long agonizing moment of silence, I was finished.

“Now, if you’d stop running into everything, you’d be healing a lot faster.” I playfully criticized.

“Doll, I gotta tell you something.” Bucky said.

“Ah, so do I.” I confessed with a small smile.

“Same time?“ Bucky offered and I nodded.

“Sure.” I agreed, and we counted to three together.

“I remember everything.“ Bucky stated.

“I think I love you.“ I said at the same time.

My eyes widened as his words sunk into my brain. While I was happy that he finally got his memory back, fear poked into my mind. Was he going to just leave me and forget me now? What if I was right and it turns out that he has 8 kids and 4 ex wives? His eyebrows furrowed together, an undetectable emotion on his face. I should’ve just shut up, I should’ve just kept that to myself.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” I spoke, my voice faltering.

“Wait, you what?” Bucky questioned.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting to leave, now.“ I continued, my voice faltering even more.

“Y/n, wait a second-“ Bucky tried.

“I have to go spring clean my room,“ I started to back away, “So I’m just going to go.“

I ran off, retreating into the safety and comfort of my room. I slammed the door shut, feeling tears brim my eyes. I felt selfish for feeling so sad about him regaining his memory, but I couldn’t help it. He was probably going to leave me and never talk to me again. He probably doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore. As a matter of fact, he’s probably in his room getting ready to leave right now.

I plopped onto the side of my bed, my back facing the door. Why couldn’t I have just thought of him like a friend? I sadly wiped my tears, which only made them flood through. In a matter of seconds I was bawling, my hands covering my face instead. I tried to keep the noise nonexistent, the last thing I needed was for Bucky to hear me cry. He’d probably just laugh. I don’t want to see him when he leaves, I just want him to go without telling me.

“Y/n?” Bucky questioned after knocking on my door.

“Go away!“ I yelled, my voice betraying me.

Instead of hearing footsteps walk away, I heard my door open and then close. Great, he’s come to ridicule me, or come to tell me good bye and to delete his number. Thankfully, my hair hid my face, so it was harder to tell that I had been crying. I heard him slowly walk closer to me before abruptly stopping in his tracks. I scooted a little further away from him, hoping he’d take a hint. Unfortunately, he didn’t.

Instead I heard him walk even closer, moving my hands away from my face. I looked away from him, focusing on the wall that faced my side. He moved my hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear. I took a deep breath as he gently moved my head, forcing me to look at him. He was crouched on the floor, looking up at me with concern. Oh great, this is even worse, I get pity. His hand stayed on my cheek, his thumb pushing away tears.

“Hey, why are you crying, doll?” Bucky asked in a quiet tone.

“It’s stupid, you don’t have to worry about me.” I replied in a slightly bitter tone.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me.” He stated, completely serious.

“Well, now that you’ve got your memory back, you’re going to leave and I’ll just be left here with a memory. You’re not going to want to talk to me-“ I began rambling, making me cry a bit harder.

“Is that what this is about?” He questioned, taking my silence as confirmation, “Doll, you didn’t give me a chance to reply.”

“Well, I just assumed-” I began.

“Well, you assumed wrong.” He stated, “If you had given me a chance to talk, you would’ve found out that I feel the same toward you.” He stated, and my heart raced.

“R-Really?” I stuttered out, my crying voice fucking everything up.

“No, I’m fucking with you, of course I do.” He said and I sighed.

“You’re still going to leave and forget me.” I pointed out, and he raised his brows.

“Even if I didn’t love you, how could I ever forget you?” He asked.

“I dunno.” I mumbled, fiddling with my hands.

“Doll, you’re too amazing to forget,” He smiled lightly, “Plus, you can be a real pain in the ass-Ow!” He yelped after I hit his arm.

I glared at him for a second before a smile took over my lips, and I hugged him instead. He instantly hugged me back, standing up and spinning me around for a second. A weight was lifted off of my shoulders and off of my heart, the sadness and fear leaving me. My tears dried, no longer falling from my eyes and staining my cheeks. After he let me go, I pulled away and stared at him for a moment.

“So does this mean that we’re a thing or-” I began, getting cut off with a kiss.

“What do you think?” He questioned after pulling away.

“I think that doesn’t really answer my question.” I stated.

“Yes, we’re a thing, you dork.” He said, rolling his eyes.

#avengers one shot #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #avengers #the avengers #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #Bucky Barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky #the winter soldier #MARVEL FANDOM #marvel

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i-just-like-commenting · 7 years

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Star Wars rewatch,part 1: Episode IV, A New Hope

I’d planned to write this last week, but life got busy, so instead it’s my last little May the Fourth celebration! I’m also updating my project from my initial plan; I’ve heard the animated series The Clone Wars praised so much as connective tissue between episodes II and III that I’m going to try to watch as much of it as keeps my interest (it’s available on Netflix). My schedule is thus now:

IV (May) V (May) II (June) Clone Wars (June-September) III (October) VI (October) VII (November)

General Impressions, or the Movie on Its Own

Well, Star Wars: A New Hope holds up pretty well after all these years. I was first exposed to the franchise through Muppet Babies (no, really) and I can’t remember how old I was exactly when I saw all the movies; maybe 7 or 8? It’s an engaging and exciting adventure story with likable characters and a lot of world-building that manages to be immersive without being overwhelming.

That said, the technology hasn’t aged well – by which I mean the depiction of computers, not the special effects. They have big keys spaced far apart, with tiny screens. Oh, and at some point in the future we decided the best way to transmit files was manually? And copying files erases them? I suppose perhaps they were being jammed for the former, and trying to keep up the flimsy pretense of being neutral for the latter. Still, it’s all very seventies in terms of its computer technology.

There’s also no way this movie would be rated PG today, not with the charred corpses of Owen and Beru, or that severed arm in a pool of blood in the cantina.

The Special Edition Stuff

I definitely remember seeing the Special Editions when they came out in 1997 (I was 13 at the time). Seeing the films on the big screen, especially that opening as the Star Destroyer first appears, was amazing. But even then, I knew there were changes that did not work.

Twenty years later, it’s easy to see how much Lucas overestimated the quality of CGI at the time. Machines and things left blurry in the background tend to look pretty good, but living organisms, especially if they are close to the camera, do not blend well with the background at all and look horribly out of place. Comparing it to, say, Maz Kanata in Force Awakens and you can see how technology has come a long way. Besides, a lot of the additions are completely unnecessary. A few droids floating around with the Stormtroopers? A few aliens in the background? They work. But having things walk between the characters and the camera is disorienting and serves no purpose. Mos Eisley doesn’t look bustling, it looks like they set the shot up poorly.

Nothing is worse than the Jabba the Hutt scene, which left the audience I was back then completely cold. It is truly terrible, and you can tell that Jabba wasn’t initially supposed to look like what he did. (Side note: has anyone confirmed if the design of Hutts was completely ripped off from the Regul? Because I think they were.) It breaks up the flow of Luke and Ben’s transition to the Falcon, and having Han make a deal with Jabba rather than being on the run after murdering one of his minions (“We’re a little rushed”) meshes better with him being on bounty hunters’ hit lists in the sequel.

That said, I do like Biggs having a short scene with Luke to give a little more impact to his death, though I wish there was even more.

Continuity, Part 1: Relation to the Original Trilogy

I know Lucas made a lot of changes as the trilogy went on, but I can easily believe that he had two things planned from the start. The first is that Han and Leia were going to end up together. While Luke has an obvious crush on Leia, and she’s fond of him, the banter between her and Han is more typical “romantic interest” writing. It’s also obvious that, for all of their hostility (he resents her class status, she resents his feigned mercenary attitude) they take a liking to each other pretty quickly. Han’s “Either I'm going to kill her or I'm beginning to like her” is absolutely real, as is Leia’s admiration of his courage (as he leads what could be a suicide charge, something he mocked Luke for earlier). Given that she isn’t as despondent over Han leaving as Luke is, and her remark that “I knew there was more to you than money,” it’s safe to say that her “I wonder if he really cares about anything. Or anybody,” was more an attempt at goading him into action than sincere dismissal of his character. Plus that wink. 😘

I played a little game of adding “married in the future” to a lot of their snarky lines, including Han telling Leia to “Get on top of it!” in the garbage chute. It made me giggle. I am so immature.

The other plot development that complements this film nicely is Darth Vader being Luke’s father. Alec Guinness’ acting, the way he won’t meet Luke’s eyes, gives a strong impression that he’s hiding details from him – which it turns out he was. And of course the conversation between Beru and Owen becomes all that more sinister in retrospect:

Aunt Beru: Luke's just not a farmer, Owen. He has too much of his father in him. Uncle Owen: That's what I'm afraid of.

The first time through, Owen comes across as simply a worrywart, concerned that Luke will die the way his father did if he ever sets foot off the farm. But if he knew that Anakin Skywalker had gone to the Dark Side, was one of the worst villains the galaxy, well yeah, he’d be very afraid that Luke resembled his father and want to shelter him from any chance of learning of the Force.

Continuity, Part 2: Relation to the Prequel Trilogy

That said, the relationship between Owen, Beru, Anakin, and Obi-Wan would make a lot more sense if Owen wasn’t Anakin’s step-sibling who he met only once. The convoluted connection between Luke and his aunt and uncle in the prequel undercuts everything in this film. How can Beru be an expert on Anakin’s character? Why is Owen resentful of Obi-Wan taking Anakin away if he only met him long after he became a Jedi?

If I’d been writing the prequels, I’d have made Beru be Anakin’s decade-older sister (allowing them to preserve his miraculous birth if they really wanted to go that way) and Owen her boyfriend who wants to buy her freedom and treats Ani like his little brother. Beru would be close to Anakin and Owen would have been around when Anakin left. It would raise the emotional stakes of them losing Anakin to the Dark Side a lot, too. Though maybe this is something Clone Wars tried to fix? I guess I’ll see.

After rewatching this film, I do actually buy that R2D2 secretly knew everything that was going on, while C3PO had his memory wiped. There are gaps in C3PO’s memories (he’s been in “several” battles, “I think”) and R2 obviously knows who Ben is, and again there’s a bit of an exchange between them like Obi-Wan suspects something is up.

There is one thing that the prequels do explain – why is Vader so hesitant when fighting Ben if he’s such a powerful Jedi? Well, he knows how it ended last time (with him having severed limbs at the edge of a pool of lava) and he’s being cautious.

Continuity, Part 3: Relation to the New Films

“If the Rebels have obtained a complete technical reading of this station, it is possible, however unlikely, they might find a weakness and exploit it.” And thus an entire movie was born. I don’t think I needed to have this “plot hole” filled in, but it worked out into a pretty good story, even if I desperately wanted more time to get to know the characters (who are pretty flat).

Obviously there are parallels between A New Hope and The Force Awakens, though not as much as people like to claim. TFA borrows from all the original films, and it’s impossible to draw direct parallels between the characters. Sure, Rey is an obvious fill-in for Luke, and Kylo Ren for Darth Vader, but Vader never captured and tortured Luke; they don’t even meet in this movie, which was probably according to Ben’s plan, separating himself from the group and luring Vader away from encountering his son. Beyond that, parallels start to break down. Person who sends off plans and gets caught by the villains? Leia and Poe. Only Leia wasn’t the one to destroy the Death Star…Duo who wind up stumbling on to the hero after being separated wandering in the desert? R2D2/C3PO and BB8/Finn, but C3PO didn’t defect from the enemy forces and free Leia at the start of the film, nor was he Luke’s love interest. Han is Han I suppose and Leia is General Dordana, and maybe Maz is Ben…? There’s a lot more originality to TFA than people want to give it credit for.

Conclusion: Bring on the Droid Revolution

DROIDS ARE SLAVES. That was the big gut-punch of watching it this time around. Like, how did I not see how horribly mistreated they are? They’re sold on market, wear restraining bolts, can have their memories wiped at their owner’s whim, or even “deactivated,” a fate C3PO clearly fears as much as a human would death. The cantina owner is bigoted against them, declaring that “We don’t serve their kind” and throwing them out of his establishment. Even C3PO’s attitude reflects a life of slavery: “We seem to be made to suffer, it’s our lot in life.”

Everything about droids is coded for them being an oppressed underclass, yet this has never come up in the films, ever. Are we supposed to be cool with it because they’re machines? They’re obviously sentient, though, and meant to be sympathetic. We spend a lot of time with R2 and C3PO before we even meet Luke, and them splitting up accomplished nothing other than character development.

They’re also obviously capable of emotion as well as intellect. I wasn’t joking when I said R2 and C3PO are the purest ship, they really are. C3PO is a classic tsundere character, claiming he doesn’t care about R2 right up until his counterpart is injured in battle, when he offers to sacrifice his own parts to save him. Seriously, I suspect “counterpart” is just droid for “life partner.” It may not be sexual (they’re gonadless robots for crying out loud) but it is true love, and I now ship it.

#star wars #spoilers for whole franchise #r2d2 and c3po

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