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willadisastercry · 3 years

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When the dust clears and you almost wish it hadn’t...

tw: emetophobia warning (brief but there), depictions of being trapped/pinned, broken bone, head injury, blood, threat of being crushed, threat of drowning.

The paladins respond to a distress signal on a foreign planet and make quick work of getting its civilians to safety, but on their last sweep surface side, shit hits the fan. Pidge and Lance are hurt but Shiro is trapped and can’t help them. On top of that, the conditions they’re stuck in are only getting worse. With no access to the coms and no tools to help them, the trio is forced to get creative and make some sacrifices.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Dust rained down in a continuous sheet, the tiny particles lit up in beams where the brightness of the day outside peaked through the mottled roof of debris now sheltering them. It seeped through their shattered visors and cacked their lungs making whatever ragged breaths they took after they realized they’d finally stopped falling harsh and desperate.

Shiro was the only one who hadn’t been knocked out after the initial collapse, more just dazed in momentary shock from the suddenness of it all, his visor most in tact and his com emitting static output that would catch a few garbled words every now and then.

The planet they were on had sent out a distress signal when the galra outpost stationed in their solar system had somehow managed to pull their moons out of alignment, and like on earth, their moons had significant influence over their tides.

Before they arrived, the land had only been hit by minor floods but as soon as voltron and the castleship entered their atmosphere, the unruly currents ramped up tenfold and small tremors could be felt from somewhere deep underground.

The abnormal weather phenomena hadn’t yet delved into anything seismic, just tidal, but they’d only been planet-side for ten minutes before alarms started blaring and the locals emerged from their homes frantic and scared.

Evacuation via lion had actually gone relatively smoothly, the paladins able to relocate the citizens before the trembles of the shifting plates became truly dangerous.

It had started off pretty tame, the rumblings far between and only enough to shake the windows and trees. But they steadily amplified the longer the evacuation went on until shaking became shuddering and soon trees were swaying and buildings were groaning.

After everyone was loaded onto the castle outside of the planets orbit Pidge flew the green lion flew back down to the surface stowing Lance and a lionless Shiro. They were in charge of carrying out the final sweep to check for stragglers, though the only thing they’d actually found was themselves caught in the height of a particularly large quake.

They were in the city center attempting to make it back to Green who was stationed at the beginning of the tree line on the outskirts of the city, antsy and waiting. But they would never get there because the intense trembling brought them to the knees before they’d even caught sight of the lion.

It would’ve been alright if the solid ground they thought they were on was truly as solid as it appeared, but it wasn’t, because the cracks splitting the pavilion open splintered towards them before they could even cry out and then the last thing they could hear was a roar almost as deafening as the sound of the planet ripping apart beneath their feet.

The fall wasn’t long or else they wouldn’t be alive to choke on the sheer amount of crap in the air, their helmets not surviving the broken bits of sediment that accosted them on the decent, cracking their visors and damaging their com systems.

Though cumbersome and clunky, their paladin armor was also sturdy and could withstand the weight of the rubble they were more or less sandwiched in. Their suits were ultimately what saved their lives in the initial collapse but it beat their human bodies to hell in the process.

Their senses returned with the panic of not being able to breathe, the moment they realized the ground beneath them was rough with rubble and uneven uprooted earth that wasn’t quite earth audible, marked by disoriented cries of surprise at the debris still falling while the quake that brought them down tapered out.

Pidge and Shiro came back to themselves first, raucous coughs pulling each other to reality over their ringing ears as they worked to clear the soot from their mouths and lungs. It was hard work. The air was dense with all kinds of minuscule specks of ruin that silenced them for a good minute while they struggled against the dryness in their throats.

It was Pidge who tried to move first. She was slumped over a chunk of what used to be a stone pillar from the building that was sucked into the chasm of non-earth along with them, her legs tucked awkwardly beneath her. She stopped abruptly to let out a strangled wail when she went to push herself up.

She hadn’t felt much of anything when she first woke up, just incredibly dazed as she fought to open her eyes under the layer of dust encrusting them. But when she put pressure on her arms she discovered that something was seriously wrong with one of them, collapsing back onto the jagged piece of stone to writhe as pain shot through to her shoulder and seized her back.

“Pidge?”

She barely registered the crackle of a low voice from somewhere nearby, her mind entirely consumed by panicking over the pain she was in as well as the unknown regarding the extent of the injury.

“Pidge is that you? Are you okay?”

It clicked then that it was Shiro speaking but she didn’t have air in her lungs to produce any answer other than a panicked whimper, too afraid to lift herself off of the injured limb to see the damage and incite another wave of agony. She didn’t have enough air to handle that again, sucking down what she could in too large of quantities for such a limited supply.

Shiro was going through a similar mental battle, though the first thing dawning on him as he registered his new surroundings was that Pidge needed help, not his own physical wellbeing. So naturally, he’d tried to get up as soon as he heard her call out only to discover he couldn’t move much because he was sprawled on his back amongst an ever growing pile of debris, his prosthetic arm likely crushed to shit under a sizable slab of stone with smaller chunks pressing against his chest and legs.

He was sufficiently stuck, pinned in place and unable to get to her but forced to listen as her anguished sounds continued.

“Pidge I’m trapped, I can’t—shit, I can’t get to you. And I don’t have visual confirmation from Lance yet so you’re gonna have to work with me here... talk to me, where are you hurt? How bad does it look?”

The sound she contrived then was like the ones before, except not for her own misery, not entirely at least. Because that meant there was still no sign of life from Lance which meant there was a very real concern that there wouldn’t be which left Pidge having to pull herself together and search for him since Shiro was otherwise incapacitated.

This would be sucky and not ideal at all, but necessary.

”Pidge?!”

Logic told her that bones mend and that pain was fleeting. That agony would be temporary, fear too, and once she found Lance it would be better, bearable at least.

And so with that resolve she willed her breathing to slow enough to form a coherent statement.

“It’s my arm,” she huffed quickly, the shrillness in her voice evidence of the severity of the injury.

“Okay, can you move? Is there something on top of you?” Shiro asked calmly, his voice level and sympathetic.

“No, I’m on top of it... if-if I move again—“

“Take a breath, it’s probably broken.”

Clearly, but Pidge was already ten steps ahead, her brain grappling with the notion of whether stabbing pain meant safe compounded fracture or gruesome and bloody and open fracture that would make her sick if she even caught sight of her own arm like that.

She shuddered violently at the thought and bit back a gasp when it jostled whatever lay beneath her.

“You’re okay, just breathe... are you sitting or laying down?”

Still so calm, somehow. So incredibly practical and disarming. It was almost unnerving how well he could do that, compartmentalize everything.

“S-sitting, sort of.”

“How?”

Awkwardly, Shiro. The man might be terrifyingly apt at rationalizing the impossible but seemed utterly incompetent in predicting the obvious.

“Folded over a rock and using it as my pillow... all my weight is on it—on my arm,” she ammended with a gulp.

Shiro took his precious time turning this information over in his head and the radio silence almost had Pidge worrying he’d passed out until his voice came back somehow even more blunt and pragmatic than before.

“That’s better actually. What I need you to do is hold your arm in place with your good hand, press it to your chest and use your shoulder to lean on as you sit back again. It should be less agitating that way—“

Shiro’s gentle instruction was cut off by Pidge’s cry as she sat up and away from the slab of stone like he recommended, her vision whiting as she cradled her arm against herself.

When she could see properly again she found her curiousity too overwhelming and spared a look at the mangled limb.

It was both better and worse than she had imagined. The forearm component of her armor was hanging on in pieces and clearly displayed the horrifying mess that lay under what remained. No skin was broken, but the tip of her bone was very visibly poking the already swelling flesh where the middle of her forearm sported a new joint.

The sight was overwhelming and her breaths soon came in short pants, the threat of passing out suddenly very real.

“Good Pidge, that was great. Take a couple deep breaths for me while you adjust,” he asked gently, his voice taking on a more solemn tone now.

She already knew what was coming next and began rearranging her legs beneath her, several deep breaths required to clear the black dotting her vision before she was confident she could stand testing their strength without them turning jelly.

“I know you’re in a lot of pain right now, but you need to find Lance... I’m not mobile and I haven’t heard him yet.”

“Already... on it,” she panted as she leaned on her knees before coming to a shakey stance.

The lighting was sparse in the pocket of nothing that the pavilion collapsed into after the fissure opened, barely enough to make out the terrain in front of her and then some. So she made her way slowly, toeing rocks and larger slabs before proceeding, checking for stability with every step as she slinked across the unnatural landscape.

“Follow my voice... I can hear you now... watch out for the crap still falling...”

Finding Shiro wasn’t difficult when his voice carried so well through the wreckage, even despite the shifting fauna and bits still crashing down and settling.

There hadn’t been another quake in the time that they’d woken up, but that only made finding Lance that much more important. If he hadn’t responded yet then it was more than likely he was pretty hurt, which would be even more dangerous for him to be alone if the rubble decided to rearrange itself.

“Hey...” Shiro laughed pitifully as she ducked under a slanted piece of stone to get to him.

Pidge saw his predicament immediately, he was looking at her from where he was propped up one elbow, his metal arm wedged underneath a piece of stone bigger than he was.

“Well, that’s not good,” she stated before coming down hard on one knee, clutching her arm extra close as she lowered herself to the floor for a better look.

“Let me see your arm,” he ordered in his leader voice, a futile attempt to deflect from his own issues.

“My arm is snapped, let me see if you still have one,” she countered expertly, pushing away his searching hand after once he’d laid back down try and examine the disfigured appendage now securely in her lap.

He sighed in defeat. Pidge had too many years of experience dodging brotherly coddling with Matt to concede to Shiro’s fretting and let him distract from her own triage efforts.

“How bad? Can’t really tell from this angle...”

“I’m not seeing much but there is quite a bit of space between the floor and the rock still so that’s kind of promising for the integrity of the prosthetic... let me get this crap off though—“

“No, you’re hurt don’t push yourself, it’s fine.”

But Pidge acted as if she hadn’t heard him and began to remove the rocks, turning over the more meager pieces of broken stone from his chest with her good hand.

“Pidge, it’s okay. I’m not hurt and you need to save your energy to look for—“

“Wait! Shut up...”

“Excuse me?!”

“Shhhh!”

Pidge held her hand up to Shiro’s face as she closed her eyes and listened for something. Shiro only heard a faint whooshing and a steady trickle until it happened again. A very guttural but human moan.

“Lance! Shit.”

“Go, he’s gotta be close, he was just beside me when we fell...”

Pidge moved swiftly, more nimble than she could’ve thought possible as she maneuvered around the rubble with only one arm to steady her.

“Lance, call out!”

Every time she moved her arm throbbed horribly, but slowing down was not an option, not when another quake was due and could occur at any moment.

“If you can hear me I need you to make a sound, throw something, anything!”

Her repeated shouts are what in the end got him to groan again, the sound of her pointed words coming closer making the pressure in his skull swell exponentially.

“That’s it, keep making noise...!”

As he tried to wake up and open his eyes he only succeeded in making himself more disoriented, the world seeming to spin even with his eyes squeezed shut.

It dawned on him then that closing his eyes when he had absolutely no idea what sort of life threatening situation he may or may not be in was a sort of really bad idea. He had no clue how he was oriented, no grasp of what was up or down, how his body was positioned, if he was hurt or not. He wasn’t even entirely sure he was alive but the second heart beat on the side of his head seemed to eventually convince him he was.

“Lance?!”

But then again the agony swirling around in his brain didn’t seem to care if it was stupid to close his eyes, nor did the intensity of the light above him that burned his retinas when he attempted to open them.

“Call out!”

Uh, no I will not, thank you very much.

Whoever was screaming in his face needed to learn some manners and stop. The sound pierced his ears like a thousand needles and traveled to the center of the heartbeat in his skull, another pathetic moan escaping his lips as he tried to reach for the spot.

“Oh, no—no, don’t do that.”

He was sprawled on his side, limbs askew and otherwise undamaged aside from his armor appearing nearly shredded in some places with how roughly he’d been tossed around in the fray. His helmet was missing and it took Pidge a few moments to locate it, almost wishing she hadn’t once she did.

The left side was dented, the visor cracked so severely that there was nothing but a few jagged shards left of it.

“You’re okay, I’m here Lance, it’s Pidge.”

Lance didn’t care that it was Pidge, she was screaming at him and it was making him nauseous. He couldn’t understand why she insisted on being so loud when he had such a bad headache or why she held his wrist so tightly.

“You’ve got a pretty nice gash there—” she muttered, her restricting hand releasing him to turn his head to the side “—a nice few gashes, actually.”

He must have made a protesting sound at the movement because she stopped and cupped his cheek instead, using the top of her thumb to wipe the tears making their way to his chin.

“Hey, you’re gonna be alright. Can you open you’re eyes at all?”

“Mmmmm.”

“Can you try? Only for a second, I just need to see something. C’monnnn, don’t you want to see my pretty face?”

He made a softer sound then and his eyelids began to flutter as he tried to pry them open, wincing at how painful even the dim lighting was once he did.

“Good, that’s good. Okay, I’m just gonna help you out here, don’t be scared...” she said as she moved her thumb and pointer finger to prop open one eyelid at a time and keep them still so she could get a good look.

His pupils were blown which was probably why opening them hurt so bad, more light was coming in than should be which couldn’t feel nice for his clearly rattled brain.

“Kay, all done... I think you have a concussion, but nothing else seems to be wrong aside from the still gushing head and facial wounds. Can you keep your hand there do you think? ” she asked as she brought it to where the bleeding was worst and pressed down, illiciting a hiss but no other resistance as he held it place.

“Great, you’re doing so great. I know you probably feel really out of it but we need to get you over to where Shiro is... and my arms kinda busted so I can only give you one hand...”

His groaning halted for a moment to let loose a low whine as he tried to open his eyes long enough to look at what she meant, his face scrunching up with concern when he finally managed to.

“You-your arm... s’hurt...” he choked out, more a restatement than a question, his tongue unwilling and his energy spent as he tried to form something coherent.

“Yeah, as I said, busted. But don’t worry about that now, just give me your hand.”

Lance seemed a bit confused at her command so she took up the hand that was limp at his side and moved it to his lap where she could reposition her own at his elbow.

“This is gonna be a tad tricky so just work with me, okay?”

He grunted a sort of ‘uh huh’ and returned with his own grip on her upper arm.

“I’m gonna stand up and lean back, when I do you’re gonna lean forward and stand with me...” Pidge detailed as she moved his legs so that they were bent towards his chest and in front of him.

It wasn’t that he was immobile. The rest of his body was free of visible injuries but his brain and his limbs seemed to be on different frequencies for the time being, the channels of communication disconnected and not taking signals from one another making his movements sluggish and sloppy.

“Okay, ready? Alright, up we go...”

What happened next was anything other than graceful. As soon as Lance was upright he lilted into Pidge who fixed her stance as he stumbled to keep standing, his grip tight on her arm and his weight almost entirely on her hip as he held his throbbing head.

“You good? Here, arm around my neck, just don’t touch my arm... there ya go. We’ll go slow, it’s not far,” she assured as she began to walk forward, Lance following in his own sort of zigzag next to her.

They made their way excruciatingly slow. Pidge moved with care, constantly analyzing the most doable path to lead Lance into, stepping on top of and over boulder sized bits of stone as he continued on whatever even ground she could find.

It was only when she was tapping her toe behind his knee to get it to buckle that he was aware they’d made it. He hadn’t heard Pidge asking him to sit, didn’t even register her hand on his face as he fought with the terrible heat on the side of his head that threatened to make his stomach act on how unsettled it was.

He let out a breathless ‘oh’ as his butt connected with the ground, a layer of recently upturned dust rising after him. Once he was safely seated Shiro removed his hand from his back from where he’d been assisting the transition.

“Shiroo...!?!” he gushed, the word sloshing in his mouth.

“Hey, Lance.”

Though he knew his friend’s demeanor was the result of a pretty gnarly head injury, Shiro couldn’t help but let a fond smile appear at his almost childlike vocalization.

“How ya feeling?”

“Oh, not good I think, right Pidge?—yeah, really not good...”

“Concussion, I checked,” Pidge provided after Shiro took Lance’s bloody hand away from the source of the bleeding to check the damage out for himself.

“That looks painful,” Shiro sympathized before returning his hand to the spot as gently as he could.

Lance processed that his hand had made contact again about ten seconds after which seemed to send his head realing because the next moment he was choking back a gag.

“Crap, it’s alright if you need to throw up. Just get it out, don’t hold it in,” Shiro ushered, his hand moving to Lance’s arm as he doubled over himself, his throat clenching against the bile rising and he sputtered.

He was sufficiently out of sorts and could hardly hold on to a coherent thought but he knew that he did not want to throw up. Not here in front of his friends, especially Shiro.

But the wave of nausea that was making his stomach cramp and his head throb was overshadowed by the sound of something crashing, like a stack of precariously placed objects falling over abruptly except much louder and followed by a sustained gush.

“Shiro..?”

The trepidation in Pidge’s voice made her sound so much younger, like how she did before Shiro left for Kerberos.

At the same time that fear erupted in his friend’s chests, saliva welled up in Lance’s mouth and he let out a pitiful sound, the new commotion having him seeing stars with how angrily his head pulsed from it.

“It’s probably just rubble settling, can you see anything?”

Pidge moved towards the biggest source of light from where the surface above them split apart, the scene hazy through clouds of dust and substantially obscured by larger breakages of sediment. She lifted herself onto her toes to try and makes sense of the destruction around them.

“No...”

Pidge couldn’t see much through the chalky blackness, just hints of structures here and there.

“There’s nothing there—oh.”

The gushing sound seemed to pull to the forefront of the concerning noises then, like a geyser of something had erupted and was emptying itself out into the chasm that had opened up beneath them and swallowed them down. This was concerning for a lot of reasons.

“Yeah, never mind we are so fucked.”

Lance wasn’t even trying to follow the progression of events going on around him, listening intently enough to make sense of a single sentence worsening the pressure behind his eyes while he stomach continued to flip.

The acid taste coming up his throat was putrid, but mixed with a grating layer of dust irritating the back of his throat, the presence of it while already massively disoriented was overwhelming.

“What is it?-crap Lance. It’s okay. You’re okay,” Shiro soothed, his hand secure on the other boy’s back while his frame shook from retching so hard.

“Pipe must’ve burst, well I guess not a pipe, more like a main...”

“A main? As in a water main?”

“Yes,” Pidge deadpanned, using her good hand to steady herself against a taller shred of stone as she continued evaluating just how fucked they were.

Shiro gulped, convinced he could actually feel the tons of weight on top of his foreign prosthetic growing heavier the longer he remained wedged under it.

“How much is coming in?”

He could hear it clearer now, like the rumble in your ears when wind rushed past them.

“Too much...”

With a hiccoughing whine, Lance pitched forward, nearly collapsing into the puddle of his own sick as he continued to gag.

“Woah, okay! You’re alright, I’ve got you... just do what you have to do bud.”

Shiro’s free hand on the center of Lance’s chest was the only thing keeping him upright as he worked through the rolling waves of dizzying nausea.

Pidge spared a cursory glance towards her friend, watching how his shoulders worked as he heaved for a moment before returning back to her internal spiral.

“Coms are wrecked but they’re out of range so it’s not like that really matters anyway... the air is pretty thin already, but the longer we’re down here the less viable o2 there’s going to be... and the crater we’re in is flooding so the more pressing issue is—”

“Pidge,” Shiro drawled slowly, his tone placating as he watched her pace back and forth, images of Matt doing the same thing surfacing in his mind as she did.

She might resemble her brother in appearance but their personalities for the most part could not be more opposite. Though during his time in the castle of lions Shiro had found that they actually share a lot of the same nervous mannerisms.

He knew Pidge probably had no idea how similar their actions are and he’s sort of glad only he does, suspecting the knowledge would only make her sad.

The only issue with this discovery is the fact that even though her reaction isn’t new to Shiro, dealing with it was, and once Pidge’s mind started working it was hard to get it to stop.

Lance was winding down then. His breaths still heavy and uneven, the stream of blood down his neck and front steady as ever, but he wasn’t gagging anymore.

“You’re arm is... fucked, my arm is fucked, and Lance’s head! Oh god, this is—“

“Calm down, we can figure this out.”

She spun on him abruptly enough that Shiro was scared for a second she might’ve given herself whiplash.

“Calm down?! How do you expect me to do that when we’re going to be underwater in an hour, hell maybe even a couple of minutes?!”

Lance’s shoulders seemed to slump somehow further from the volume of her voice and Shiro took a second before launching into his response to help him sit back on his heels and away from the vomit.

“No, I’m going to be underwater. You and Lance are going to start walking, climbing, whatever it is you have to do to get to higher ground—“

“Yeah okay, fuck that. We’re not leaving you—uh buh bah, save whatever case you were gonna make because I’ll promptly stop listening.”

The visage of Matt retreated entirely with Pidge’s indiscretion, her words seeding with irritation as she shut Shiro down.

“Pidge!”

“I’m so very sorry for my attitude but you really did just pitch us leaving you to drown, are you really that surprised?”

Shiro took a practiced breath, the kind he uses to ground himself because the pit in his chest was expanding and the last thing they needed was him devolving into panic.

He eyed the way Lance swayed as he sat with his legs splayed on either side of him, his hands limp in his lap and coated in blood from the gash on his head.

“You can’t stay here, not when Lance is hurt like this.”

“Okay.”

“Huh? Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. If you want to waste your energy trying to convince me to let you die, then that’s whatever because the reality is that you’re the one stuck under a rock and I’m the only one whose mobile. This is very much my call. Sorry big guy, but we’re sticking around.”

Shiro actually laughed.

He couldn’t ignore the way that his heart filled with admiration at Pidge’s defiance but it was overwhelmed by the burden of the fact that no matter how much pride he had in her for stepping up, he was still trapped and they were still going to watch him die.

He shuddered and Lance hummed at the movement, wondering vaguely if Shiro was hurt at all before the thought disappeared and the only thing he could remember was how insanely painful the knot on the side of his head was and how heavy his aching body felt.

“M’tired... think I’m gonna... mmmh, gonna lay down,” he managed with some concentration and put his hands on the ground to brace himself but didn’t make any further moves, his face scrunching up in confusion as he struggled to figure out how to maneuver himself down when his arms were so difficult to control and his head pulsed blindingly any time he moved.

“You can’t go to sleep yet, dude. Just sit with Shiro for now, I need you to keep an eye on him for me anyway,” Pidge instructed with a grin.

Shiro huffed and narrowed his eyes but it only made her smirk widen.

“W-why? Is Shiro hurt?” Lance asked worriedly, forgetting himself entirely and attempting to twist around to see.

The gravity of the action caught up with him a beat later, the groan that bubbled in his chest ungodly.

“Easy there, hot shot, I’m okay. Just a little stuck,” Shiro assured, stilling him with a firm hand on his shoulder when the surge of pain had him tipping nearly over.

“Kay... s’good,” he noted through clenched teeth before his eyes fluttered shut and his head began to lower to his chest.

A sharp pain from where Shiro flicked the side of his cheek that wasn’t cut up and coated in blood roused Lance from his attempt to rest.

“Ow. Rude.”

“Not rude, necessary. There’s no napping on the job.”

“I’m so tired though... just wanna sleep... you guys are so mean... why can’t I just—“

“Nope. You’ve gotta keep your eyes open for me bud,” Shiro chided, shaking his shoulder gruffly enough to have his bloodshot eyes shooting open.

“But why?” he slurred, the exasperation in his whine sort of heartbreaking, “I could just nap through... the worst of this, it’d be... it’d be so nice... wouldn’t hurt so much...”

“Since when are you all about what’s easy, you’re like the most stubborn human I know?”Shiro asked, his voice full of fondness.

“And you get enough beauty rest as it is, lover boy, you’ll live if you miss a few hours.”

The rushing water filled the ambient silence while Pidge made her way back to her friends from her watch post amongst the rubble.

“Are... we?”

Lance’s voice was a broken whisper, the gravel in it a painful attribution to the stress his throat had been put under between the abuse of the acid in the bile and coarse texture of the dust.

“Are we what, Lance?”

“Live... are we gonna live?”

The gush of moving water rose up in Shiro’s ears like roaring wind again but stronger this time, effectively tunneling his attention on those words, the innocence of them.

“Of course we are—“

“I want it on the record that I, Pidge Gunderson, am making no such promises.”

“PIDGE!”

“So loud... please... shhh...” Lance cried desperately, his hands almost comically slow to rise and cover his ears.

“WHAT?! I’m being honest!”

“You’re being negative!”

“Coming from the guy who just told me to leave him for dead!”

The fire in both paladins eyes was burning so brightly Lance could’ve sworn there was an actual glow with how horribly his head was beginning to hurt from listening to them.

“Alright, I might’ve had a moment of doubt, but we can’t—“

“Stop shaking me Shiro...” Lance whimpered as he drew his knees up to his chest carefully “—it hurts... please quit it...”

This broke the two out of their heated argument.

“I’m not touching you, Lance...”

“Then t-tell whoever is... to fucking stop!”

His chest hitched pitifully when punctuating the last bit with a pleading whine had his head swimming in vengeance. If it weren’t for the stability of hugging his propped up legs so tightly he would’ve fallen over with how dizzy he was.

Pidge looked at Shiro as if he’d know any better than her what the hell he was talking about.

Unfortunately for the both of them, he did not.

“Deep breaths, Lance. You’re probably just disoriented, it’s normal for head injuries to mess with your sense of balance and equilibrium—“

“Shiro...?”

He was beginning to hate hearing his name being called when it was almost always followed by something he really wouldn’t enjoy hearing.

“Yeah, Pidge?”

But she didn’t have to continue because he felt it then.

A steady thrumming from somewhere below.

A rumble.

“Quiznak...”

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watevermelon · 4 years

Text

Aot!Haikyuu | MSBY Black Jackals x Reader (Introduction)

✧ Summary: (Attack on Titan x Haikyuu) In an effort to unlock the secrets behind Titans, you got injured during one of Tendou’s Scout Regiment experiments. This was nothing new, but even you were surprised at how much those boys cared about you. ➳ Warnings: Language and Attack on Titan Canon Violence ➳ Tags: Reader x MSBY Black Jackals; Slight Reader x Schweiden Adlers; Takes place before the Fall of Trost;

Pick your route!

Sakusa Kiyoomi | Atsumu Miya | Hinata Shoyou | Bokuto Koutarou

----xXxXxXxXxX-----

You were absolutely going to kill Tendou if you ever stepped foot back inside the walls. Then again, he was a squad leader and it was not worth having to go to trial for treason over his dead body.

Also, there was a three-meter class titan on your heels and you were separated from the rest of the squad.

But, y’know, just another day for the Survey Corps.

You grappled along the outside of the forest, the other two squads further behind as the Titan had turned its attention fully on you. It all happened so suddenly - Tendou was trying to plead his case to Commander Ukai, that capturing a live Titan would provide much needed research on their behavior. And even though it would not be easy, the information was almost necessary for the war.

And to your consternation, Commander Ukai was actually deliberating it.

Only a few minutes later, as if it was listening in on your conversation, there appeared a rustle in the trees, but nothing taller than the woods. And so here was a smaller titan, no taller than 5-meters, close to the Scout’s expedition site.

Tendou didn’t even ask for permission, riding out on his horse with little preamble. Commander Ukai shot a quick look toward Squad Leader Ushjima, the stoic man riding out after his longtime best-friend with his team of Hoshiumi and Kageyama trailing behind him.

Running to your horse, you rushed behind your own squad leader Sakusa with the rest of your team behind you. Atsumu was already complaining while Bokuto and Hinata almost seemed as excited as Tendou. Your team was a random bunch admittedly, but you had some of the best results in the entire regiment.

Tendou was so eager about Titans, this venture feeling like he was chasing after a pet rather than, y’know, a killing monster that has pushed humanity to the brink of extinction. A part of you wanted to remind him that this was a dangerous venture from start to finish, but there was no reasoning with him once his mind was fixated on a new project.

You pushed on the spurs of your horse to catch-up to the group. Killing a titan was no problem here, high trees of the forest giving access to grapple points that a team of advanced Scouts would be able to take care of.

But you weren’t here to kill, you were here to capture.

Tendou circled the perimeter of the woods, the Titan running behind him as if this was nothing more than a game of cat and mouse instead of life and death. Ushijima was standing on his horse, ready to take action to incapacitate when suddenly, the Titan halted all of its momentum and turned to the back of the group.

Sakusa kept riding past it, not wanting to lose momentum against the fast-moving bastard. Kageyama and Hoshiumi struggled to sharply turn their horses away from the Titan’s new warpath.

You watched the Titan’s blank eyes turn to you, dilating at your appearance and brown ponytail above the crowd. It took a single second before the Titan was on an entirely new warpath, galloping in your direction.

Atsumu spit a word of warning next to you, basically telling you to run like your life depended on it, which honestly was not far from the truth. Bokuto and Hinata separated from their positions alongside you, trying to see if the split would garner the Titan’s attention. You cursed loudly when the Titan was still fixated on you - Hinata’s shouts of rage and Bokuto’s loud insults at the monster did not get it’s attention. Sakusa was speeding up to simply end it here, but Tendou yelled and insisted that the abnormal behavior had to be taken back with them.

The question of how the hell you were going to do that never really crossed your mind, not until the Titan was speeding in your direction and you had to personally give chase. The Titan’s earlier speed was nothing in comparison before, down on all fours to propel himself to you.

It was constantly muttering something, you could not make out the words from the garble froth out of its mouth. It almost sounded like a name, Ymir? No matter the case, you would not have a chance to think more about it if you were dead.

Your horse would not be able to outrun this and you shot a grappling hook to the forest on your left, it would work better for you to turn to the higher areas if the Titan was keen on you alone. Kicking off your horse to see if it would follow the animal alone, the Titan’s eyes only widened as it followed you breaking away.

Gas be damned, you increased the output on your 3DMG gear just to get more speed when the Titan launched itself in the air, eager hands grabbing at you tightly. You shouted more in surprise than hurt, expecting pain to shoot through you as it squeezed you in its hold. If not that, you whispered small prayers to whichever God was listening, irritated that you were going to be eaten in front of your friends.

But the Titan continued to hold you like a small doll in its fist as it continued its run.

You heard Atsumu curse loudly and Sakusa bark out more orders, the telltale sound of gear launching in your direction. But the Titan was on a mission, venturing deeper into the forest as if it was looking for something.

This should have been instant death, crushed under the clutches of a monster, but the Titan just continued to drag you along as the other scouts caught up behind you. The initial surprise of being a Titan’s prisoner forced you into silence, simply looking up at it from its grasp around your middle.

Tendou shouted orders to kill it and Kageyama grappled onto the nape instantly. That was enough to finally grab your attention, yelling out a Wait! The young man was close enough to land the killing blow, blue-eyes meeting yours to confirm your words before he redirected a hook somewhere else.

“You fucking idiot you will not die on me today!” You felt more than heard Sakusa’s harsh yell seep into your bones. He hardly ever raised his voice, at you or anyone else, it had you more scared of him than the Titan.

You glanced at the three-meter titan, it’s blank eyes searching the forest as he ventured further in like a monkey. The scouts had better grappling points among the trees, but the small Titan had just as much mobility from being able to quickly climb and jump around.

“Just observe, you idiot!” You yelled back, sure that the name would earn you a permanent demotion if you ever made it back. Sakusa scowled, not even Atsumu could conjure a smirk at your mocking nickname.

The rest of the scouts were following along closely, contradicting orders between the two squads. The final say would be Ushjima - he had rank over everyone else present. This would not be an easy call, even you were hesitant to say something while his hazel eyes followed you.

You were their friend, their comrade that trained and fought alongside them since your early training corp days. Everyone here knew the dangers of picking the Scout Regiment, but it all came at the sacrifice to save all of humanity.

The last time on record the regiment tried to capture a Titan, 20 Scouts laid down their lives for the information you had today. Even the tiniest bit of information could save hundreds of lives down the line. Where would you be today if you had never found out the Titan’s weak spot? What else was there that society was not aware of?

This was not the time to be selfish in the face of humanity.

The Titan paid no attention to the others and you made the decision for them - telling the rest to keep further back, just to observe the Titan behavior. Maybe Tendou was waiting for your call before making one of his own, since he backed you immediately and ordered the rest to stand-down. Sakusa outwardly snarled and even Bokuto voiced his unhappiness, but they followed nonetheless. The nail in the coffin was Ushijima doing the same, Hoshiumi and Kageyama slowing down alongside him.

As if understanding what just happened, the Titan dropped it’s hold on the next tree, falling to the forest floor and turning sharply in another direction. The space between you and the boys were widening, had the Titan understood your yells? Was this a trap?

Were you going to die?

You watched Atsumu’s worried look turn to a brown blur, too far away to really tell the details of his face as the Titan dodged and weaved with both speed and altitude. While large, it’s sound was largely hidden under the gallop of the riderless horses in the near distance.

You were alone with a Titan.

The thought didn’t linger for long when the Titan dropped to the ground entirely, gingerly walking up to a tree as it nudged you to your feet. You silently clicked at the pistons of your grappling hooks, the entire mechanism was crushed and, even in your office back at headquarters, there was no fixing it.

Instead, you patted down to your pack, taking out your notebook and hoping that there was still a pencil there as well. You meekly followed the Titan’s insistent pushes, moving toward the hollow in the tree and sitting in it quietly.

The Titan got to its knees, bowing to you with his arms outstretched in your direction. The tension in your spine felt like a coil, completely winded and any more tension would have anyone else in a panic attack. But you were eagerly writing down everything you saw, from the Titan’s position to the expression on its face.

That’s when you heard it.

Ymir.

There was no denying the word, or rather name, coming from its lips. You steadied your breathing, compartmentalizing your panic and trying to write down everything you could.

(1) Titan’s could talk. (2) A Titan chanted the name Ymir (3) It almost looked like the Titan was worshiping you in the tree’s hollow.

Was this because of your appearance? There was nothing that set you apart from the rest of the group other than the fact that you were female and that you had long, brown hair. You wrote down every question you had, every observation there was in the case that this notebook would be all that anyone ever saw of you again.

Your pencil flew against the notebook, mind in a million places to the point that you hadn’t even realized you were crying. The only indicator was the sudden damp circles on your paper. You didn’t want to push your luck, but your sacrifice would be for nothing if you did not try.

Mustering up your courage, you whispered back to the Titan. “Ymir.”

It raised itself from his prone position, quietly observing you in the tree. You dropped your feet to the ground, still leaning against the hollow, but not wanting to be trapped against it if the Titan decided you were no longer fun having around.

“Ymir.” You stated it louder and that must have broken the strange trance you were both in.

It rushed you immediately and you dodged the best you could, tucking to the left and raising your hands as if you were going to fistfight a titan. There was almost a hint of a smile on its face as you heaved in air to steady your growing anxiety.

There was nothing in the books or your years of experience to tell you what the hell to do now. When it jumped to grab at you again, you kept your head low between your arms, deciding to dodge and bide time for your friends to hopefully find you.

If not, well that wasn’t something you wanted to think about.

Your abandoned 3DMG gear was in your peripheral, most of it in shambles but the sharp edges of the blades were still there. The hilt was not usable, but cutting yourself by wielding a blade bare-handed was the least of your worries now.

Breaking out into a run, you quickly ejected a blade out of the gas canister and brandished it like a sword. The next finger that came close was cut squarely off, but that seemed to outrage the Titan more. You swerved as best as you could, but it caught hold of your left leg.

You thought of just cutting it off, but that would only serve to make you an easier target. It held you in its fist like earlier, but with a much tighter grip. You wailed as if the sound would yield its hold on you, surely a bone or two in your calf had snapped under the pressure. Not one to lose your will to live just yet, you took advantage of the close proximity to the Titan’s face and stabbed the blade cleanly through its left eye, lodging the sharp object there and earning a loud scream in response.

The Titan dropped it’s hold on you, but you screamed back at landing on both your feet. There was no sugar-coating it - your left leg was fucked. You doubted you could walk all that far and it would take only about a minute for the Titan to regenerate. There were a few more blades left in the canister, but you barely had the strength to lug yourself over there.

The Titan yelled back in your face, but was silenced after a blur of green whizzed by, the telltale whirring noise signified the best news you got all day.

Help had arrived.

Bokuto had an arm slung around your shoulders immediately, Atsumu flanking you on the other side before they lifted you away and off the forest floor. The initial adrenaline was wearing off and the pain seared you from the inside, any movement of your lower half set your skin ablaze with undeniable agony. It enveloped your entire being and made you curse aloud. Hinata attempted to console you with low words, saying that you were only minutes from the medic tent.

Thankfully, you were not far from the rest of the other scouts on the expedition. You closed your eyes one moment to shut out the pain and re-opened them only to see the brown-top of the tent. There were low voices outside, Tendou’s familiar drawl one of them amongst the other shadows cast on the tent. How long had you been out? Were you back within the walls?

Moving to sit-up, the expletives that followed immediately gained the attention of those outside.

Sakusa's worried eyes were the first ones you saw, before he hardened them and crossed his arms. Bokuto nearly pushed aside the rest of your squad to get to your bedside, putting a hand behind your back to slowly get you to lie down again. Hinata, eager to help also, poured you a glass of water and handed it to you. Atsumu was suspiciously silent, arms crossed over his chest.

“Sit back, you fucking idiot.” Sakusa bit out.

You didn’t fit it, this was not the hill you wanted to die on. Instead, you asked, “How long have I been out?”

Hinata answered, “Three days, we’re within Trost now.”

You hesitated, biting your lip and trying to settle on something to say. “Sorry you had to haul my sorry ass all the way here.”

“All that matters is you’re back!” Bokuto replied back louder than intended, earning a glare from two of his younger squadmates.

You chuckled and unconsciously attempted to sit-up, “Where’s Tendou? Did you guys find my notebook?”

“Un-fucking-believable.” Atsumu started, he was the one to lightly push you down this time. “You had every bone beneath your knee crushed and you’re worried about your notebook.”

“I’m worried about my contribution to humanity.” You bit back, his annoyance contributing to your own agitation. “If you hadn’t noticed, we’re in the middle of a war!”

Atsumu snarled back, “Goddamnit, there’s no getting through that thick skull of yours is there?”

“I doubt it.” Sakusa agreed, eyes narrowing at you.

“Guys, relax.” Hinata attempted to diffuse, “She’s back with us now.”

“Why the hell are you guys so mad?” You ignored his attempt to calm everyone down.

Atsumu turned to Hinata, “And what if she hadn’t made it back?!”

The seriousness in his expression made you recoil, unsure what to say to this Atsumu who was so desperately hurt. You looked to Sakusa and he had a similar, yet more guarded countenance. Both boys were looking at you, their hard glares trying to convey their honest worry for you.

“I.. I’m sorry.” You stuttered out, not sure what to say to your usually closed-off superiors.

“Now, now.” Tendou, entered the tent, waving a hand away to your visitors. That only increased some of the tension, everyone turning to the red-head. It was his idea after all, but you did make the choice to play along as well.

“We need a debrief as soon as possible, so do you mind?” Tendou continued, turning to your squad-mates. Only Sakusa was allowed to stay, Ushijima and Commander Ukai entered your tent a minute later.

You watched their expression as you retold every detail about the encounter. The fist Sakusa had on his lap clenched and unclenched every once in a while, a small tell that you knew he was trying to internalize his anger. Tendou asked questions every once in a while, no doubt curious to hear that a Titan was not just speaking, but had even engaged in some type of worship. Ushijima’s face was unreadable, but enough so that you could tell he was angry at you as well.

Commander Ukai had just as many questions as Tendou, but dwelled harder on your observation of your appearance. He asked, “While we cannot assume what sets you apart from the rest, would you be willing to participate in another Titan extraction?”

Sakusa answered for you, “No, she won’t be able to.”

Ushijima nodded in agreement while Tendou raised his palms in mock surprise. Commander Ukai made no movement to chastise the two boys, just turning his gaze to observe the room before landing on you.

You felt the blaze of a thousand suns when he did so, Sakusa and Ushijima openly glaring at you and almost daring you to say something contradictory.

“Ah, not anytime soon.” You answered.

“Not ever.” Sakusa finished for you, making Tendou snort and Ukai withhold the need to roll his eyes. This was not what he was expecting, but there was no point in arguing with your direct superior when, if it truly mattered, he had rank.

Once you were done talking, Commander Ukai was the first to leave, stating that he was expecting formal reports from both you and Tendou within the next few days. You sighed inwardly, but agreed. Ushijima stared at you for a good minute, saying nothing, before exiting the tent behind him.

----xXxXxXxXxX-----

Pick your route!

Sakusa Kiyoomi | Atsumu Miya | Hinata Shoyou | Bokuto Koutarou

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trylonandperisphere · 3 years

Text

Are you suffering from 2020 election burnout? You're not alone.

Covid-19 depleted our bodies’ ability to process stress months ago. Then election season arrived.

Oct. 31, 2020, 5:00 AM EDT

By Anne Helen Petersen

Like so many other people I know, I’ve spent the least eight months figuring out how to spread out my Covid-19 and election-related stress in a way that makes everyday life livable. I metered my anger; I figured out anxiety-diluting strategies; I got through one day of uncertainty and fear, then the next, then the next. I created basic, anchoring routines for each day, and I worked to cultivate spare moments of peace and something that approximates happiness. I figured it out because I had no other choice. My life wasn’t great — but it was bearable.

It’s not just fears of contracting Covid-19 or anxiety about who will win the presidential election — it’s more, “How will my community and my state and my country recover from this physical and economic calamity?”

But this week, my body began to tell me a different story. After all these months, my anxiety dreams began to incorporate Covid-19. In them, I show up in a store or to an event and I’ve somehow forgotten my mask, or everyone else has. My sleep, which had largely steadied, is beginning to disintegrate again. My misophonia — an actual medical condition in which particular sounds, especially chewing, make you feel like you want to bang your head against the wall — is off the charts. My stomach churns, my muscles ache. I feel totally scattered, unable to concentrate, sensitive to everything.

My partner’s migraines rolled in every day for the past week. No one I know was sleeping well. Once-manageable conditions — tinnitus, hot flashes, colitis — have spiraled out of control. All of our already bad digital habits, especially doomscrolling, have gotten worse. As I sit here writing, a devouring headache has traveled up my spine, over my skull and into my jaw bone. “All my coping strategies are failing,” one person told me recently. “I am coming undone.”

It’s not just fears of contracting Covid-19 or anxiety about who will win the presidential election. It’s more, “How will my community and my state and my country recover from this physical and economic calamity?” And, “Will American democracy be dismantled?” It’s constantly wondering: Are you doing enough? Do you have any more hours, more money, more desperate energy to give? What more can you wring out of your already wrung-out self so you can change the direction of this country?

There’s also the knowledge that there will be no catharsis on Election Day, because the president and the GOP have quietly and not-so-quietly been setting up an infrastructure to ensure that any win will be contested. Imagine running a marathon, seeing the finish line and then having someone on the sideline yell that you need to turn around and run all the way home. That’s what this election burnout feels like. The unknowns — about the virus, a potential cure, just how long all of this will last — just continue to cascade. The approach of winter feels like being in a dark tunnel closing in on both sides. Your fatigue accumulates gradually, until one day you realize you’ve been struggling to breathe for weeks.

The foundations of this stress are not new, even if they are new to some people. For years, a lot of white, middle-class people in the U.S. have been insulated from the reality that an election could have dramatic effects on their lives. President Donald Trump pulled that privilege away and introduced bourgeois liberals to what BIPOC, poor people, queer people and disabled people have been feeling for centuries. Feeling unsafe in public spaces, uncertain that law enforcement will protect you, fearful that certain rights could be taken from you without warning — for millions of Americans, the stress and threat was always there. But the thrum of constant worry has started to feel like someone screaming in your ear.

Imagine running a marathon, seeing the finish line, and then having someone on the sideline yell that you need to turn around and run all the way home. That’s what this election burnout feels like.

What’s changed is that our surge capacity — the body’s ability to process stress — was depleted months ago. We have so much grief and nowhere to put it. When you can’t process something, it builds up, like bile. And no matter how creatively or diligently you try to ignore it, it’s still there, slowly festering. At some point your body begins to betray your best compartmentalization strategies. Our dreams have become vivid and terrifying because sleep is one of the places we allow ourselves to confront our sadness and fear.

This sort of chronic instability, and the burnout and exhaustion that accompany it, fundamentally changes us. In some cases, our bodies and minds force us to check out entirely. We turn inward, become apathetic and withdrawn, neglect the effects of our actions on others and indulge our worst, most selfish and desperate selves.

If that’s what you need to do in order to keep going just one more day: Do it. But dropping out of civil life — of caring — is a worst-case scenario. What you can do, at least in the short term, is take the advice of my friend, clinical psychologist Darcy Lockman: Lower the bar. Now, look at that bar, and lower it again.

That philosophy can apply to basically everything in your life that you, personally, control: your appearance, the cleanliness of your house, your to-do list, your parenting, even your relationships. What is actually essential, and where can you give yourself some much-needed, even if temporary, slack? How can you give yourself the smallest — but nonetheless substantive — break from the relentlessness of your life right now?

If, like me, small measures of control make you feel better about a lack of control elsewhere, what’s something that will give you some form of short-term catharsis? You’re not the only person in your life who feels like things are falling apart, even more than they were falling apart before. Ask your friends in the group chat. Actually talk to your partner about it. If you have kids and they are old enough, talk to them, too. Our struggles can feel unique and unknowable to anyone else. But just admitting out loud that you’re feeling broken can produce something like strength.

I’m still oscillating between hope and despair, between believing the polls and rejecting them, between imagining the possibilities of radical, wide-ranging societal change and steeling myself for four more dark years. But the exhaustion we feel at that prospect is, as Dahlia Lithwick pointed out in her recent piece on the confirmation of Amy Coney Barrett, the point. If Republicans can’t win the popular vote, they’ve decided to win by simply wearing down the opposition: in the courts, in the legislature, through disinformation and on social media.

If Republicans can’t win the popular vote, they’ve decided to win by simply wearing down the opposition: in the courts, in the legislature, through disinformation, and on social media.

This arduousness has not been accidental. The response to this virus didn’t have to be another battle in the culture war. Voting doesn’t have to feel like a mythical hero’s journey. Applying for unemployment, taking a Covid-19 test, feeling confident that people will respect rules about masks — none of it should be this hard. That difficulty was always the point. Make things hard, and infuriating and time-consuming, and eventually people will give up — or at least fall in line.

The rallying cry that emerged in the wake of Trump’s election was resist. Resist normalizing Trump’s behavior. Resist his policies. Resist the spread of Trumpism — and resist his vision for America. Some people have been resisting for as long as they can remember. And others, new to this fatigue and fear, are arriving at new stages of empathy and solidarity. All of this resistance has exacted a steep toll. But if you’re on the brink of falling apart, it’s not a symptom of failure. It’s evidence of bone-deep care and commitment to a different vision of what this country can be: for yourself, for your family and for those who are nothing like you but deserve it nonetheless.

Be gentle on yourself these next few days. And remember that part of what we’re fighting for is to never feel this way again.

#election #2020 #2020 mood #2020 election #u.s. politics #u.s. election #self care #mental health #stress #anxiety #depression

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shitty-marvel-fan732 · 4 years

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When the Party's Over

Author's Note:

Welp. This happened? It's a Bucky x Reader oneshot inspired by the song "when the party's over" by Billie Eilish. It's my first attempt at writing for Bucky, and also my first attempt at angst? Please let me know what y'all think!

Once again a big THANK YOU to @twentytwohearts for beta-ing this fic for me!

TW: injuries, death, mentions of anxiety/grief/PTSD

Lyrics are BOLD

Don't you know I'm no good for you?

I've learned to lose you, can't afford to

Tore my shirt to stop you bleedin'

But nothin' ever stops you leavin'

It was supposed to be a routine mission -- in and out in an hour or two. The whole team had come along, but that was more a formality than anything else. The ride over on the Quinjet had been almost jovial; jokes and cheerful conversation clashing harshly with the reality of what we were going to do. It was a sad reality of our line of work, but the compartmentalization helped all of us get through the day without going too insane.

Y/N had been sitting in her usual place by my side, head resting comfortably atop my shoulder and fingers entangled with mine. Her thumb rubbed soft circles into the palm of my flesh hand as we quietly spoke. She knew better than anyone that I craved gentle touch -- especially before a mission -- that it helped keep the Soldier from making an unwelcome return. She was smart like that, sensing when I needed her the most without my ever having to say a word. It was one of the things that had drawn me to her when we first met. I was distracted by the intoxicating feel of her skin against mine and mind racing with thoughts of her and I as we soared through the sky together. If I had it my way, I'd never detangle myself from her loving touch and our hands would stay locked together like puzzle pieces forever.

Even as I knelt beside her in the middle of a makeshift battlefield hours later her fingers were still entangled with mine, but this time both our hands were painted with a warm, sticky coat of blood.

Her blood.

She'd been struck from behind, a stray bullet taking the both of us by complete surprise. It was one of Hydra's, a massive chunk of metal designed to implode upon impact to inflict the maximum amount of damage. And damage it did.

As soon as she'd felt the sharp pain in her back, her eyes had instantly found mine, the connection between us drawing my gaze to her. I didn't remember much else from that moment apart from the roar of fury and fear that'd ripped from my throat as my mind went blank with panic. I don't even know how I'd made my way to her through all the people in the way, all I remember is the sheer horror that encased me as I sprinted to her fast crumpling form.

I managed to catch her just before she hit the hard ground, my arms wrapping her securely against my chest as her hands blindly hunted for mine. I cradled her gently with my metal arm as my flesh hand gave her blood covered fingers the hold she'd been searching for. She smiled slightly at the feel of my flesh against hers as I scanned her wildly, looking for the source of her bleeding.

The bullet had entered through her back, the impact opening the area around her stomach and exposing most of her internal organs to the outside of her body. Her once round, healthy face was turning sickly pale at an alarming rate -- her chest heaving with the effort it took her to breathe. She shivered against my chest, mumbling almost inaudibly.

"I'm cold."

Quiet when I'm coming home and I'm on my own

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

Unlike most of the team, Y/N was quiet; she didn't speak much, but when she did her words always made an impact. She seemed to hang back from the group -- preferring to assess those around her with her sharp eyes rather than fill the space with meaningless chatter. I too preferred to stay on the outskirts of a crowd, and it was there that I first found her clear, Y/E/C orbs studying me with a look of curious innocence on her face. It didn't take long after that day for me to realize that she'd been unconsciously moving closer and closer to me as she stared.

Back then I was still struggling daily with flashbacks and moments when the Soldier took control of my mind, but I never seemed to lose control when Y/N was around. A fact which baffled me to no end, I couldn't come up with a rational explanation for the wave of calm that overtook me whenever she was near. She'd never spoken a word to me, nor I to her, and yet I found myself impossibly drawn to her -- like a moth to a flame. I was so perplexed I'd even asked Steve if that was part of her abilities, mood or mental manipulation of some kind. Steve had just chuckled and explained that Y/N didn't in fact have any special abilities. She was just another master assassin, her skills on par with Natasha's or Clint's.

Though the information wasn't exactly useful to me in terms of figuring out the strange connection I felt towards her, I found myself gravitating towards Y/N whenever she was present. Eventually we began exchanging small pleasantries; mine awkward and uncomfortable and hers quiet and sweet. The pleasantries soon turned to long, drawn out conversations about anything and everything. We spent hours just talking well into the night; I found myself opening up to her like I'd never been able to do with anyone else. There was just something about her presence that made me feel calm and secure. I told her things I'd never shared with anyone, not even Steve. Things about the Soldier, about Hydra. At first, I worried that she would judge me or run away screaming at the horrible things I'd seen and done.

But she didn't.

She'd never even flinched as I recounted the atrocities I'd been a part of. What's more, she firmly reminded me over and over that I wasn't in control back then, and reassured me in ways no one had before. She made me feel safe, calm without seeming like she was even trying. I felt like I was locked in some kind of trance whenever she was around -- like I was wrapped in a cocoon of safety, finally free from the memories and guilt from my past.

Incredibly, she seemed to feel just as safe around me as I did her. It was impossible for me to fathom any reason that someone as pure and kind as her would want anything to do with someone like me -- a monster. But whenever I said anything to that effect she just giggled and waved my concerns off. She always made sure to tell me how safe she felt with me around, how drawn she felt to me.

Before too long we'd fallen into a relationship the likes of which I could never have dreamed of. We fit into one another's lives like pieces of a puzzle, and after a while I wondered how I'd ever made it through a single day without her by my side. She was my rock, my whole world, and I would do anything to protect her.

Don't you know too much already?

I'll only hurt you if you let me

Call me friend, but keep me closer (Call me back)

And I'll call you when the party's over

Some protector I was.

Emotions flew through my body like hurricane winds -- each cutting through me as they passed. Fear, panic, sadness, guilt: none settling for long enough to take precedent over the others. My breathing was erratic, my entire body practically vibrating with the need to do something, anything.

She laid in my arms, looking more like a small child than any assassin should have the right to. Her breathing was slowing by the minute, and there was a look of fear in her Y/E/C eyes that made the panic bubble back up in my chest. She looked terrified and her hand gripped mine tighter as she gasped for breath. Her lips moved wordlessly for a few moments and I shook my head.

"It's okay doll, don't try and speak now," I cooed softly. My hand briefly left hers to move delicately through her knotted curls. The familiar, comforting act happened naturally -- my arm had no need to consult with my brain before it began soothing it's way through her hair. Which was good because my brain wasn't good for much at the moment. The effect on Y/N was immediate, and her eyelids fluttered shut with the small action. Though I normally revelled in the effects my touch could have on her, I was overcome with a surge of panic at my inability to see her eyes.

"Y/N, doll, please. I need you to open up those pretty eyes okay? Keep them right on me sweetheart," I practically begged, sobs threatening to break through at any time and voice cracking. I needed to see her eyes. Needed to know she was still with me.

She complied with my request, though I could tell it took a lot of effort on her part. Her normally clear eyes tracked along my body with difficulty and I could tell she was struggling to focus. Finally her eyes met mine and I could see the tears that'd pooled within her lids begin to fall as she gazed at me. Her hand moved weakly around my chest, seemingly searching for something, until her soft flesh met with the side of my face. I felt the wet trail of blood her fingers left behind as they caressed my cheek. I couldn't be bothered to care about the blood, too focused on the feel of her gentle hand and the love-struck expression on her face.

"Bucky." her voice was broken, softer than I'd ever heard.

My mind was racing with all the possible outcomes, every bit of the first aid and battle wound training escaping me. I was so immersed in my attempts to shift through the torrent of thoughts and emotions in my mind that I hardly noticed the team as they gathered around me. Evidently the battle was pretty much over, and everyone was slowly filtering over to the spot where Y/N and I were hunched over. For the first time since I'd locked eyes with her this afternoon I felt a small flutter of hope worm it's way into my chest.

Tony was here. Banner was here. Surely they'd know how to help, what to do. They'd save her.

I turned from Y/N's shivering form long enough to glance at Steve where he stood next to Tony. Their expressions were grim, mouths set in a thin line and eyes fixed on her injuries.

Neither would quite meet my desperate gaze. Natasha's eyes were glossed over with unshed tears as she stared at Y/N. She padded over, kneeling down beside us gently. She surveyed the wounds marring Y/N with the eyes of a trained soldier. I held my breath as she assessed her, unable to think or do anything until I was given more information.

Clint stood just behind her with a hand on Peter's shoulder, his face stoic and eyes looking as if he was a million miles away. Peter had never looked more his age. His young face was contorted into an expression that was a mix of fear, sadness, and shock. If I had to bet on it, I don't think he'd be standing upright if it weren't for Clint's grip on him. Bruce hung back from the group and looked as if he was teetering between going green or getting sick. Thor's massive frame towered behind all the rest, his head bowed in respect as he looked sadly over the two of us.

"Tash…" Y/N croaked. Natasha gazed down at her with a tiny, sorrowful smile. She stroked her matted and bloody hair fondly with one hand as her other quickly injected her with a small syringe.

"Я здесь, моя милая девушка. Я здесь." the redhead cooed soothingly. "It won't hurt anymore."

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. She couldn't mean what I thought she did. It couldn't happen.

She stood slowly from her place, walking away slowly before ending up next to Peter. Her hand raised to his other shoulder and her head bowed as her tears began to fall.

My head snapped desperately between the faces of the team, needing someone to do something.

"Stark, Banner, someone please help!" I shouted, angry at their lack of urgency. This was Y/N's life we were talking about. Someone needed to do something, needed to take her somewhere, fast. But no one moved.

"Buck…" Steve murmured. He shook his head, defeated as tears sprang to fill his lids as well. He swallowed thickly, as if he was unsure of what to say next, the small action solidifying the twinge of doubt that lingered in the back of my mind.

"No…" I choked out, sobs escaping my chest without permission. I gripped Y/N tighter against my body as I cried -- my tears landing on her near-motionless body and mingling with the fresh blood that covered her frame.

The one small flame of hope I had left was extinguishing rapidly at the realization of what their lack of action meant. Y/N was going to die -- here -- in my arms, and I was powerless to stop it. Guilt and despair overtook my body as I wept in ugly choking gasps, the feelings making each limb feel as if it weighed thousands of pounds.

I was only brought out of my own head by the familiar feeling of gentle fingers dancing across my face. Y/N stared up at me as she caressed the stubble of my chin, eyes devoid of the fear and panic they once held. The feelings had simply vanished -- her irises now holding nothing but sheer love and determination. I was overwhelmed by just how beautiful she was. How much I loved her. I steadied myself, trying desperately to think of something to say. It was baffling really, to simultaneously have so much I yearned to tell her, and yet my brain couldn't muster even a single word at the moment.

"Hey there handsome, why the long face?" she chuckled weakly. I laughed humorously at the phrase, my mind briefly drifting to a different time. A different place.

Quiet when I'm coming home and I'm on my own

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

"Bucky?" a call came from down the hall. Even from a distance I could instantly recognize the owner of melodic voice. Y/N. Her feet padded so softly down the hall, someone with normal hearing wouldn't have been able to detect her steps. Though I recognized the familiar sounds of both her voice and her footsteps approaching me, I didn't bother to move.

I was currently sitting upright on the armchair located in the furthest corner of my room, hands gripping the arms tightly and eyes trained on the floor beneath my boots. The lights were all off and I was waging a silent war within myself. I'd just returned from a particularly grueling mission -- as if the fight wasn't gritty and difficult enough to start, the target was a Hydra base. A base packed to the brim with the idolizing scum, all bristling for a fight. Lately, I'd been more in control after these types of raids; I was able to separate myself from what I was seeing and keep the Soldier at bay.

But not tonight.

Tonight I'd encountered one of the foot-soldiers that'd help manipulate and torture me. One of the men who'd held me down in those early days when I'd still had some fight left in me. The second I'd laid eyes on him, the memories flooded my mind like rocks in a landslide. I slipped completely out of control from there on out -- I laid waste to everyone and everything around me like a robot, like I was trained. Bucky Barnes was lost completely, and the Winter Soldier was in complete command of me.

The Soldier had taken over me before -- the appearances becoming more distant the longer I'd been away from Cryo. But not like this. Never like this.

Before when the Soldier took control, I'd lost consciousness entirely; mind blacked-out as he ravaged the poor souls caught in the crosshairs. Tonight, I was entirely lucid -- trapped inside as I watched the Soldier pioneer me like a puppet. I had taken a back seat within my own body.

If Steve hadn't been close -- if he wasn't so damn good at recognizing when I was no longer in control, who knows what would've happened. If I'd ever snapped back out of it.

No.

The thought drifted through my mind amidst the chaos and memories threatening to claw their way back to the surface. Even now, hours later, I wasn't entirely certain if I was completely in control. Y/N wasn't safe. The Soldier taunted me from within, yearning to be set free. To lay waste to everyone in sight. To finally meet the precious Y/N…

"NO!" I roared. The sound was feral, ripped straight from my core with the mere implication that the Soldier would get anywhere near my Y/N. My hands gripped the arms of the chair so tightly I could faintly recognize the sound of the frame cracking under my touch. He couldn't. I wouldn't let him.

Desperation and panic overwhelmed my system as I raced to find a way to keep her from him -- from me. Her footsteps echoed closer, close enough now that I was certain even someone with average hearing could hear.

"Y/N, don't! I'm not...STOP!" I choked. My fists released the chair roughly, splinters of broken fiber and wood clunking wildly against the floor as I jumped to my feet. Boots thudding across the floor, I made short work of the space and moved into the doorway. I intended to slam the door shut -- hopefully not hard enough to break the damn thing, but fast enough to stop her from getting in. Or to stop Him from getting out. I wasn't quite sure.

Regardless of the motive behind it, the door needed to close. To lock -- to put as much in between Y/N and I as I could manage. But as fast as I was, as fast as I could be, it wasn’t fast enough.

Y/N’s sweet face filled the doorframe at the exact moment that my foot took the final step towards the threshold. I froze, internally divided and mind filled with so many thoughts that they blurred into a mere hum of static. The only discernible feelings I could make out from the buzz were panicked, frenzied.

“Bucky…” she murmured, voice quiet as a mouse creeping through a home full of sleeping occupants. Breathing erratic and fists clenched painfully at my sides, I wildly stared at her gentle stance with horror. I was completely frozen -- unable to sift through the panic and dread raging within my head long enough to make a move.

She looked as she always did: stance casual and facial expression peacefully neutral. I'd been fortunate enough in recent weeks to become familiar with all the intricacies of her beautiful features -- her nonchalant demeanor was often a trick, a facade she carefully constructed over years of brutal combat and torture. She was a spy to the core. But her mask had cracks, faults that only those who truly knew her could detect. A twitch of the eye or the finger was all it took for some to detect her hesitation -- but I knew her better than even that.

They say the eyes are the window to the soul. Any trained soldier or criminal would tell you that they were absolutely right -- that anyone worth a damn could gather intel or win a fight based on the enemies eyes alone. I was no different. It was a fundamental fact of life that no one could truly hide the look in their eyes, and I could instantly determine most people's moods and intentions with just a brief glance. But, as I was slowly learning was the case for most fundamental truths, Y/N was a bit of an exception.

It wasn't that I couldn't decipher the meaning lurking behind her Y/E/C orbs. On the contrary, I had an easier time picking out her thoughts from a glance than for most people. No, the difference with Y/N was that when I looked into her eyes I didn't just discover her true emotions. I felt them.

Currently, as we stood locked in a heated staring contest, her eyes held no trace of fear, no defensive alarm. Most people like us always mentally had one foot out the door -- an escape plan formulated out of sheer habit whenever we entered a room. She didn't. Y/N stood before me, completely devoid of any of her natural instincts as she surveyed me. She wasn't afraid.

She was worried.

"Hey there handsome, why the long face?"

Her soft voice broke the tense silence that'd enveloped us, a twinge of humor evident in her tone. She knew all about the mission, about what I was fighting against, and yet she stood before me and teased. If I wasn't so god-damned terrified, I think I would've laughed.

"Y/N, you have to -- I'm not...I can't --" I sputtered uselessly, praying to whatever higher power there was that she would understand. Desperately wishing that she would turn abruptly and leave.

She was silent for a moment, eyes scanning me with soft contemplation. Her stance changed slightly -- her shoulders set back with determination and hands lifting slowly towards my face. I jerked backwards to avoid contact, eyes desperately pleading for her to understand.

Her hand paused in midair, caught halfway between my body and hers. My breathing was still erratic and my chest was heaving with the effort it took to regulate myself. Instead of turning around and leaving like I desperately wanted her to do she took another step forward towards my shaking form. Deliberate and calculated, she stalked me slowly like a police officer approaching a suicidal suspect. My heart crashed wildly against my chest and the cacophony of thoughts in my head somehow became even louder. She couldn't -- why wasn't she stopping?

"I've never been scared of you Bucky." she stated, voice impossibly soft yet firm. "Not for a moment. Not even when you're scared of yourself."

She inched slowly closer as she spoke until she was a hairbreadth away from touching me. My already overloaded senses were flooded with her presence. The sweet, familiar smell of her skin wafted up to my nose -- the scent a mix of lavender shampoo rising from her freshly washed hair and her own unique aroma. The wave of calm that seemed to envelope me whenever she was near began to seep into me slowly. The tornado of thoughts and panicked feelings hadn't completely subsided, but they began to slowly fade away as she got closer.

Her gentle palm came into contact with the skin of my cheek with a feather-light touch. The gradual wave of peace that'd begun to encroach within my troubled mind suddenly clashed against the swirl of panic and fear inside my head at the soft feeling of her hand against my face. I gasped harshly, all the breath abruptly stolen from my lungs as the silent war within my mind came to a peak. The Soldier roared in fury -- livid at the attack against his release.

A sob ripped through my chest as I felt my mind slowly become entirely my own once more. I lurched forward, arms wrapping tightly around Y/N's waist and face burying itself in the crook of her neck. Though no other words were spoken between us for the moment, Y/N didn't need any verbal cues in order to seemingly understand what I needed. One of her arms wrapped firmly around my body and wrenched me closer to hers as I cried. The other hand found its way into the hairs on the back of my head and began taking through them gently. I must have been disgusting at the moment; I hadn't done anything since returning to the tower, and I was certain she could feel the layers of grime, sweat, and blood that coated my skin. If she did, she didn't let it show. She cooed soft words of reassurance and love into my ears as she held me.

Eventually, she maneuvered our still conjoined bodies to the edge of my bed and gently guided us to a seated position. My sobs were starting to slow as she continued to soothe my shaking form. Fat tears kept rolling down my cheeks steadily, but I was able to control the sounds and cries as I slowly calmed. Y/N's gentle coos also started to slow as I began to quiet down, though her fingers didn't stop their soft dance through my hair.

"It's okay sweet boy, it's all over now," she whispered against the crown of my head, lips brushing against me with each gentle word. "You're okay Bucky, I'm here, I've got you."

I let out a shaky breath as the sweet sounds of her voice flowed smoothly into my ears and I processed what she truly meant. A sudden wave of exhaustion overcame my body -- keeping myself upright and my eyes opened became more of a challenge than it should have. Ever perceptive, Y/N seemed to realize the struggle I was facing.

She gently rolled my head off her shoulder and started to stand. A bolt of fear ran through my chest at the lack of contact, and my hand shot out like a bullet to grab her wrist.

"Stay." I managed to croak out. My voice was hoarse, throat raw and aching from overuse. She looked at me with an expression of pure understanding, eyes sparkling with compassion and reassurance.

"I'm not going far, don't worry," she soothed. Her hand came to rest over the top of mine and her thumb rubbed small circles over the tops of my bruised and bloodied knuckles. "I'll be right back, just lie down for a minute and rest, okay?"

Though my stomach still wrestled with the panic and desperation of wanting to keep her close, I allowed her to pry my fingers from her wrist and walk away. I slid my body back onto the bed and laid as she'd requested with childlike obedience. My eyes shut instantly as I allowed myself to rest but I fought against the sleep that threatened to overcome me. My half-asleep brain faintly registered the sounds of a tap running and the hum of the bathroom light flickering on.

It wasn't long before I heard the soft padding of Y/N's footsteps drawing near and felt the bed dip under her weight.

"Can you sit up for a moment?" her gentle voice wafted through my ears like honey. Drained and utterly out of it, I obeyed and slowly sat up.

"Good. I'm going to help you, okay?"

I felt the warm, wet sensation of a wash rag being swiped carefully across the skin of my face. Internally moaning at the feeling, I sat patiently while Y/N carefully washed all the grime and dried blood from my body. My shirt had been shed not long after I'd come back -- in my half-crazed state it'd felt too small, suffocating.

She carefully swept the cloth over every inch of available skin I had. Under normal circumstances I would've been embarrassed, both of my bare skin littered with scars and of the outpouring of emotion I'd displayed, but I didn't feel even a shred of self-consciousness at the moment. No, whatever small bit of consciousness I could muster in my tired body was lasered into Y/N. Her gentle fingers danced across my skin, sending tiny shockwaves of electricity through me. I was overpowered by the smell of her unique scent surrounding me, by the aura of affection and safety she radiated around us. Words couldn't come close to describing the peace and contentment I felt surrounding me -- it was as if the entire world had melted away around us. I wasn't thinking about the Soldier, the mission, nothing. Hell I was halfway gone from being able to recall my own name at the moment. My senses and thoughts were entirely and wholeheartedly consumed by one single thing.

Her.

After some time, although I had no idea how much, Y/N finished her task and retreated to the bathroom to put away the rag and water basin. I shivered slightly at the sensation of cool air hitting my now clean skin and the lack of contact with Y/N's gentle hands. Unsure what to do, I sat lamely on the edge of my bed and waited as patiently as I could for Y/N to return.

She exited the ensuite and flicked the light off behind her as she did. Even without the benefit of light I was still surrounded by the comforting embrace of her presence. The bed dipped slightly as she sat down, the bare skin of my arms prickling with sparks as her body settled next to me. She silently removed her shoes and began to scootch up the bed.

Almost robotically, I copied her actions, kicking my boots off roughly and joining her near the headboard. Though I couldn't see her well in the dark of the room I felt her arms open wide in silent invitation. I readily accepted the comfort she offered, lying my head across her chest and arms wrapping around her middle firmly. I relaxed instantly into her embrace as she wrapped one hand around the back of my head and the other began running aimless patterns across my bare back.

No other words were spoken between us that night. Sleep consumed me quickly as she held me and she followed not long after. The rest of our time was spent wrapped in each others arms, her offering quiet comfort and me reveling in the feeling of being protected for once. It became a ritual after each mission and most every night for us after that -- to lay in one another's arms as we slept.

But nothin' is better sometimes

Once we've both said our goodbyes

Let's just let it go

Let me let you go

Time was running short, and I could tell I didn't have much time left with Y/N. Her breaths were growing more shallow by the second, the space in between them growing longer. Her eyes were still locked in to mine but the sparkle that they usually held was fading with each passing moment. There was a hole in my chest that ached as I struggled to hold myself together. I want sure exactly how much longer she was going to be able to hold on, but I didn't want her final memories to be filled with me breaking down. I shuddered violently with an ominous chill as I fought against the tears that'd collected in my eyes.

My hands were busy, cradling Y/N gently against my chest and running though her hair. My lips brushed softly against the crown of her head, and I mumbled tender words that I hoped were somehow soothing. I slowly rocked us back and forth as I cooed, the warm flow of blood from her stomach squelching against the harsh dirt of the ground as I did. I peppered as many kisses as I could to whatever skin was available: her cheeks, forehead, nose, hairline. She didn't make much noise apart from a few small hums of contentment here or there as my lips connected to her skin. After what felt like an eternity and only a second all at once I felt her body begin to fall slack. Panic shot through my chest, and I clutched her tighter against my chest.

"I'm so sorry doll." I whispered desperately. "I should've...I can't... I'm sorry."

I rocked her faster and held her tighter, hoping against all rationality that if I just held on tight enough that I could stop what was inevitably about to happen. I could no longer control my tears -- they flowed rapidly from my eyes in big fat droplets into the soft skin of her neck.

"Bucky…" she muttered. Her voice was nearly inaudible and as I pulled reluctantly from my position against the crook of her neck I could instantly tell that she was nearly gone. I sucked in a breath and held it, entirely unsure as to what to do or say. Never one to let me struggle for long, Y/N smiled her truest, most beautiful smile up at me and raised her pale hand weakly to rest on my face.

"I lo -- I love you. Don't be sorry. I love you." she murmured. Her voice sounded impossibly fragile. Even for as soft spoken as she could be at times I'd never heard her sound so small. But I wasn't thinking about her tone in that moment or what it meant -- my entire being was consumed by overwhelming feelings of adoration for the woman in my arms. Even with what could literally be her dying breath she was determined to express not her pain, regrets, or final wishes. No, she was using her last moments to tell me that she loved me. I choked down a sob from deep within my chest before replying.

"I know doll. I love you too Y/N. I love you so damned much."

She smiled faintly at the admission. Her lips quirked up only the smallest fraction, but I felt the familiar feelings of affection and love fluttering in my stomach as she did. The smile remained on her face as I felt her body go limp within my arms. She drifted away just like that: lying delicately across my lap with her head resting lightly against my chest. If I hadn't known better, I might have thought she was simply sleeping. Her eyes were still open -- the irises dull and pale, their natural sparkle gone in an instant.

She was gone.

I shivered violently, crushing her now lifeless body against my own tightly as sobs of pure anguish ripped from my lungs. I was utterly consumed with grief -- my chest ached with the weight of my despair, the indescribable pain and loss rooting me to my spot. I stroked her bloodied and matted hair with shaking fingers and took deep breaths of her lingering scent, desperately trying to commit all I could about her to memory.

I could faintly hear the sound of sniffles and the shuffling of boots against the rocky ground as the team shifted around. Life was still working around me as I held Y/N's lifeless body, though it felt as if my entire world had stopped with the last beat of her heart. A hand grasped me from behind, grip tight on my shoulder.

"Buck," Steve's voice drifted in my ears "It's time. We...we have to go home".

Unconsciously, I gripped Y/N tighter in my arms. I didn't move an inch, terrified of what I'd face once I did. Steve's hand squeezed my shoulder, and though I couldn't see his face from my position I could practically hear the grim determination he exuded. He'd been close with Y/N too; Steve had known her long before me, and their friendship had only grown as we'd gotten closer. Deep inside I knew this must've been difficult for him too, but I couldn't muster the strength to empathize at the moment.

"I can't-- Steve I…" I sobbed. I didn't budge from my position. I couldn't explain the panic I felt; as broken and devastated as I was, I knew that as soon as I got up that things would be irrevocably changed. Steve didn't respond, nor did he move, but I could tell that he understood.

We stayed like that for an immeasurable length of time, me sobbing and cradling Y/N's lifeless body and Steve silently standing behind us. Eventually the weight in my chest nestled deeper in my body, sadness dissipating like a mist into every fiber of my body. I felt numb, disassociated from life as I robotically stood. I gathered Y/N in my arms and silently began the walk to the jet.

The sound of my boots crunching against the gravel was deafening as we walked, the once loud area of the battlefield deadly quiet. Y/N felt feather-light in my arms compared to the crushing weight of the grief that had made its home in my chest. But even that weight was nothing compared to the weight of the small box encased in the pocket of my tac pants. The tiny box that once held so much promise now weighed heavy against my leg with each step. The tiny silver and diamond band inside stripped of any hope, just like I was.

Quiet when I'm coming home and I'm on my own

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

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