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love-beyond-space-war · 4 months

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Hi hii <33 im so glad i found your blog, ive been looking for someone who writes for halo at all but seeing that you also write for rvb, i have to come on here and ask.... Possibility of getting a church/epsilon x reader ?? it kind of makes sense (?) that i cant find any fics for him but im still p :( about it lolol i dont have many ideas, im not the most creative but i was thinking maybe something with reader's reaction to seeing him return after he and carolina disappeared for that time on chorus?? or just the two of them catching up or smth similar <333 i understand if this is a strange request or if you dont want to do it at all <3 thank you for taking the time to read me rambling a bit lolol

I haven't seen Chorus in awhile so I took my own liberties with this ^^ Despite that... hope you enjoy. I haven't written a regular fic in awhile, I've been very involved with my main blog lately. Sorry if I made it too short :( Trying to get back into the swing of things and I'm battling a cold!

Not proofread fully, sorry for any mistakes!

We Meet Again

Church (Epsilon) x Reader

Synopsis: You and Epsilon/Church have a heart to heart chat upon meeting again on Chorus. It's not the happiest reunion....

Content Warnings: Romantic/Platonic Pairing, Gender-Neutral Reader, Angst, Vaguely follows canon, Possible OOC Church.

You weren't sure if you were happy or upset at the return of Epsilon. Part of you was still bitter at the fact he left with Carolina. Yet at the same time... you knew he had his reasons.

You're just being bitter by ignoring him, aren't you?

"Look... I understand you're mad at me. Tucker and Wash are too. But... could you please just listen to me when I say I'm sorry?" Epsilon... Church... pleads to you as he hovers by your helmet.

"Church..." You find yourself finally saying, the hologram beside you perking up. "I know... I just... I wish I could've come with."

"You know you couldn't... it would be too dangerous-" Church tries to reason only to be shot a glare.

"Oh really? Like what we all just went through wasn't?" You hiss at the hologram. Church appears to realize his mistake before responding.

"I didn't know you'd be in danger! Not until me and Carolina looked for answers! I thought you'd be fine-" Church rambles, sitting his hologram by your shoulder.

"We all make mistakes...." You whisper, noticing the AI's panic.

"I can only calculate so many possibilities, I'm sorry! I guess I should've thought harder when it came to you and the rest...." Church continues to speak. His tone makes you feel guilty for being so bitter. It's not like he meant to leave you....

You clear your throat, fully turning yourself to look at Church. You're so happy the others left you two alone. They knew how close you were with the AI and his distraught/angry you were when he left.

It was best to just leave you two to work things out while a plan against Felix and Locus is prepared.

"Okay, Church, please calm down-" You try to say Church looking back at you. You don't need to read his face to know how he's feeling.

When it comes to you... he feels guilty.

"I'm sorry... I want you to know I and the others care for you." Church sighs, small holographic form standing in front of you.

"Your fragments?" You ask, only for Church to nod.

"I... even like this... just want to protect those I care for. That includes you. I care for you so much." Church whispers. "If I lost you due to a miscalculation... I... it might feel like losing her all over again."

You know who Church is talking about as immediately reach out your hand for comfort. You pause for a moments, remembering he's a hologram, but still try to show comfort. Church accepts the attempt, snorting a bit at your attempt.

"I get it now. We're both worried for one another. I'm still happy to see you both. I just... have missed you a lot." You admit. "You're scared to lose me... and I'm scared to lose you again."

"... I won't leave you anymore, then." Church says after a pause to think. "You won't have to worry anymore."

"Church... do whatever you need to do, I was just being bitter." You admit. "You shouldn't just worry about me."

Church stops you from speaking and steps closer to your visor.

"Hey... I care about you and the others more than anything. I want you to know that I... love you and the others. They get on my nerves... but-"

"I love you too, Church." You smile. "I love you and I forgive you."

"... you do?"

"Of course." You say softly. "... I wish I could hug you right now but just telling you so works for now."

Both you and Church seem more at ease when you say that. You see the AI flicker in embarrassment at your words but you can tell he's reassured. You hope he can reconcile with the others just as easily.

"It doesn't matter what happened in the past... we'll protect each other now." You promise with a smile before standing up. "You coming to meet with the others?"

"Sure... we do have other matters to attend to, don't we?" Church agrees before following you. You give him a smile, albeit with a bittersweet tone.

"Unfortunately, we do, but we'll do it together."

With that, you're off to plan.

#halo red vs blue x reader #halo rvb x reader #halo rvb epsilon x reader #halo rvb church x reader

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illumynare · 7 years

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Red vs Blue Fic: Gift of the Magi (9/12)

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

Unfortunately, Wash is just as determined to protect him.

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

Notes: Also available on AO3!

They take Wash away.

Tucker stares numbly at the puddle of blood on the floor, and he feels sick. He thought Wash was okay. That was why he'd gone through the simulations, why he never fought back: because he thought Wash was okay.

Because protecting Wash was all he had left.

But Wash wasn't okay. Tucker remembers the look on his face, the way his hands hadn't trembled at all as he held the gun to Tucker's head.

He remembers Wash's voice, quiet and agonized: They put an AI in me.

And Tucker's numbness turns to fury.

They put an AI in Wash's head.

He looks up at the observation room, where Hargrove is glaring down at the chaos.

"What did you do to Wash?" he demands.

"Put him back in his cell," says Hargrove, and the guards grab him.

"You fucking promised, you asshole," Tucker yells, struggling against the guards. "You said he wouldn't get hurt!"

That was the deal. That was why Tucker did it, why he let them strap him into the machine again and again, endured the simulations of being being shot and stabbed and strangled and—

JUNIOR

All for nothing.

"You motherfucking—fucker," he howls, and then one of the guards punches him in the stomach. Tucker spends the next few seconds remembering how to breathe. By the time he can speak again, they've dragged him out of the training room, and they're halfway back to his cell.

They put an AI in me.

The words haunt Tucker. So does the expression on Wash's face.

He wasn't able to stop himself from striking Tucker. He shot himself because he didn't want to kill Tucker.

What the fuck did they do to him?

Tucker knows what Epsilon did to Wash. He wishes he could forget watching the video records from Project Freelancer. And now . . . Wash is . . .

He remembers the pool of blood. The room seems to spin around him, and then he's barfing.

Yeah, you should probably call for help, says Church.

"I'm fine," Tucker mutters, even though now that the adrenaline has worn off, his head is throbbing with pain. Something trickles down his forehead; he rubs at it, and his hand comes away red. Blood.

It's just a little blood, Tucker, he can imagine Wash saying.

Fuck Wash and fuck his stupid Freelancer priorities. Why couldn't he have let Tucker protect him?

Okay, leaving aside the obvious hypocrisy, says Church, you have a concussion.

Tucker's not used to having concussions. He's used to getting shot in the head. He's used to knives in his throat, his hands, his gut. He's not used to being locked up, hurting but not dying, wait and waiting as he remembers Wash—

Seriously, says Church, you're pretty fucked up and you need to get help.

Yeah, because Hargrove is all about giving him help.

Tucker lies down. He really wishes the room would stop spinning. He wishes he could forgot the look in Wash's eyes, as he held the gun to Tucker's forehead.

He wishes that Wash had just shot him.

That's the last thing he thinks for a while.

When he wakes up, Tucker feels minty.

That's the only way to describe it: the green light, the cool, fresh feeling shivering down his spine. It's kind of nice, and for a second he relaxes.

Then he realizes that he's strapped into a medical bed, and adrenaline slams into his chest, sets his heart pounding as he thinks, No, no, not again—

Relax, dude. It's okay.

And Church's voice gets through to him at the same time as he realizes that he's strapped in face-up. He's not in the machine. He's under the same healing tech as when Hargrove first captured him, right after Wash came to him and said, On your feet, Private Tucker.

Shit. Wash.

He's strapped down pretty tightly, but Tucker does what he can to lever himself up and crane his neck to look around—

And there's Wash. Just a few feet away from him, strapped into another medical bed, another glowing machine hanging over him. He's almost as pale as when he was bleeding out at Tucker's feet, but he's still breathing.

He's alive.

Tucker collapses back onto the bed, weak with relief. For a few moments all he can think about is how Wash is alive, he's right there just a few feet away, Tucker didn't get him killed.

Except . . . he nearly did.

The knowledge eats away at Tucker. The pain in his head is gone, which is awesome, but that just means he can think clearly now. He can understand how totally screwed they are.

He can understand how Wash is a fucking liar. Saying, I'm just fine, Private Tucker, and claiming he was training Hargrove's men. What the fuck. If Hargrove went to the trouble of putting an AI into Wash's head, he wasn't just having him run drills. Tucker doesn't know what Hargrove's been making him do, but if he needed to make that AI take control of his body—it's got to be bad.

Tucker remembers the blood pooling around Wash. How hopeless Wash sounded. All this time Tucker thought he was protecting him, and really he'd been hanging him out to dry. Because whatever Wash has been through, it's obviously worse than a few dumb simulations.

That look in his eyes, that sound of his voice—it's all Tucker's fault.

It's not your fault, Church says, but it is. Tucker remembers Hargrove gloating that Wash had agreed to "cooperate." He thought he'd saved him from that, but instead he was just a hostage.

Tucker is the reason that Wash had an AI in his head, that he suffered the exact thing that Tucker wanted to protect him from ever suffering again.

Wow, you're right, we have so much in common! We both wear blue armor, we're both incredibly sexually attractive, and we're both responsible for Wash getting fucked in the head. Go team. Are you done complaining yet?

You're such an asshole.

And you're a whiny bitch, but we're still stuck together.

I could just stop hallucinating you.

Sure, man, go ahead. Give it a try.

Tucker stares up at the maze of wiring overhead. He thinks, Church is dead.

Church is dead. He died, Tucker saw the fragments he left behind, so there's no way that he's coming back now. And Tucker isn't like Caboose, who has to make up imaginary friends when his real ones leave him.

Tucker can deal with this.

Church is dead.

Fuck, Tucker thinks he's going to cry.

He's not like Caboose. Tucker is cool, he can deal with this, he is totally cool. But he's suddenly remembering the weeks he spent fighting for his life at Sandtrap, and how he kept bitching to Church in his head. Kept imagining that when he got out of there, he would tell Church all about it, and Church would pretend to be sick of listening to him but really—

And then Church died. During one of those days at Sandtrap, probably right while Tucker was complaining about sand in his crotch, Church died and Tucker never saw him again.

Never got to say goodbye.

Then they found Epsilon and he turned into Church and it was okay—it wasn't exactly the same, but Church was still an asshole and still Tucker's friend—

Until he left again.

There isn't going to be any last-minute, "Oops, Church is a ghost now," or "Oops, Church left his memories behind and Caboose talked them into being Church again."

Tucker's all alone. Wash is only a few feet away, but he's unconscious and he can't help and the silence is ringing like a gong in Tucker's head. He doesn't know how long he can stand it.

Shit.

"Haha." Church actually appears in front of him, a little glowing blue figure. "Toldja so."

"Goddamnit," Tucker mutters. He shouldn't be so relieved, but he is. He can't do this alone.

"Yeah, obviously you can't do it alone," Church says smugly. "Or you wouldn't be hallucinating."

"I hate you so much," Tucker grumbles.

"Yeah, what else is new. Listen, I've been thinking—"

"You mean I've been thinking?" Tucker asks. His brain is so fucked up.

As if he's just been reminded that he doesn't exist, Church disappears. The next words he says silently in Tucker's head: I'm pretty sure we're running out time.

No, duh, says Tucker. What was your first hint, Wash shooting himself in the chest?

Hargrove's just playing with you. Church's voice is quiet and serious, and it sends an icy chill through Tucker. I've been thinking about it. That machine? Fucking useless for training. It's wired up to some alien shit, and I'll betcha anything it's specifically made to test you with your worst nightmares or whatever.

So? Tucker asks.

So that "deal" you made? I bet he never planned to put Wash in the machine. He just wanted to keep you busy and not trying to escape. And torture you for kicks, of course.

Tucker wants to say that isn't true. But the more he thinks about it, the more sense it makes.

He was never protecting Wash. He was never being a hero. All those times they strapped him into the machine, it was never worth anything. Right from the start, Tucker was doing exactly what Hargrove wanted, and getting Wash fucked over into the bargain.

Okay, relax. The point is, whatever Hargrove is trying to do with Wash, it's obviously falling apart. We need to get a message out.

Can't you, like, hack stuff? Tucker asks.

Too many firewalls. Wait, you think a hallucination can hack stuff?

Right. It's just so easy to forget that Tucker is actually alone in this bed, that Church is dead for good and can't ever help him again.

Nope nope nope. He's not thinking about that right now.

But it's hard not to remember the last time he was trying to get off this ship, and—

And Tucker's an idiot.

He's an idiot who let himself get so completely wrapped up in those fucking simulations that he actually forgot they had an ally on this ship.

"Sheila," he says.

Wha— oh. OH. Church sounds stunned. Shit, we're dumb.

Yeah, no kidding, Tucker thinks, and calls out again, "Sheila? Can you hear me?"

Silence. Tucker remembers Sheila being able to talk to them from anywhere in the ship—but that was before she helped them escape. What if Hargrove deleted her or something?

"Hey, FILSS," says Church, appearing at Tucker's bedside. "You wanna help us out here?"

Which is pointless, since he's not real, so Sheila can't hear him, but—

"FILSS?" Tucker calls, wondering if the other name will work better.

There's another moment of silence, and then Sheila says, "Speaking to prisoners is against my programming."

And Tucker feels a chill because her voice is so . . . dead. Low and monotone and hopeless, and shit, he's not getting so close to an escape and giving up now.

"Aw, c'mon," he says. "You don't even like Hargrove."

"Also, you're already talking to us," says Church.

Sheila doesn't respond.

"Look," says Tucker, "I know I'm not Caboose or Church, but . . . this is for Wash. You remember him, right?"

He knows she does, unless Hargrove erased her memory banks. Wash told him about how she used to run the training simulations, back in Project Freelancer. She was there when Wash was the rookie on Alpha Squad, and she was there when Epsilon tore his mind apart. The surveilance vids that made Tucker try to drink his ass off—Sheila was there when it happened.

She has to care.

"Agent Washington has been performing sub-optimally for some time now," says Sheila, and Tucker's throat hurts at the reminder of what he failed to see.

"Yeah," he says. "Wash really, really needs to go home. Can't you send a message to our friends? Tell them where we are?"

"Please?" says Church, flickering the way he does when he's really upset.

"That would be against my programming," says Sheila.

"Fuck programming," says Tucker. "Wash needs you."

He waits, but she doesn't reply.

"FILSS?" he says finally.

"Recalculating," says Sheila.

"Uhh," says Tucker, "does that mean—"

"Message sent."

"FUCK YEAH!" says Tucker, and for one second none of the awful things matter. Because Tucker did it. Their friends are coming for them. They're gonna be rescued.

"Thanks, FILSS," says Church, flickering again.

"Thanks," Tucker echoes, then cranes his head to look at Wash again. Remembers—everything.

Maybe there still isn't hope for him. He thinks for a second about Junior and then goes NOPE because he can't afford to lose his mind again, and if he thinks about the possibility that he killed his own kid then he is definitely going to lose it.

But no matter how fucked Tucker is, Wash is going to be okay.

He has to be okay.

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

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nonbinaryalphachurch · 7 years

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Call Off Your Ghost

@rvbficwars

An entry for the Red vs Blue Bingo Wars, for the square ‘Angst’ for Blue Team. On AO3 here.

Word Count: 923

Summary: Wyoming’s time distortion unit activates during the final fight with Hargrove’s forces, and forces Tucker to keep reliving the same battle, over and over again, whenever he gets hurt/injured. No one else remembers. Maybe it’s better that way.

(You once said if we were careful,

That we could do this all our lives.

Although one of us got clumsy,

And both of us got wise.

And now we're not so young,

Seems our wishing well's gone dry.)

Tucker isn’t sure how long he’s been fighting for.

The Meta’s armor has Wyoming’s time distortion enhancement built into it, and it seems to work just like it did back in Blood Gulch. Sometimes, little things differ, like whether a soldier goes for Caboose or Grif, but most everything else stays the same. Time only resets when he’s injured, fatally or not.

No one else remembers.

Maybe it’s better that way.

He’s standing in the middle of Hargrove's trophy room, gripping his sword tightly. The Meta's armor is too big for him, tailored for a bulky frame. The teal color is comforting, but it feels unnatural, wearing the suit of a dead man. His alien plasma sword is glowing a shining white, and looking at it for longer than a second makes his eyes burn.

Sparks are flying from the door as Hargrove's soldiers begin to cut it open, and muffled shouting comes from behind the heavy metal door.

Epsilon hovers over his shoulder, pale sky-blue armor glinting in the harsh false light. Tucker glances at him, a grim smile on his face. He knows how this ends. He’s lived it more times than he can count.

"See you on the other side, Church," Tucker says to him.

He blinks, and Church is gone. It's not that he's retreated into his armor; his presence has faded from Tucker’s head. His mind feels hollow and empty, and even though he knows how it feels, knows what to expect, it’s never prepared him for the reality of losing his friend in the blink of an eye.

(It’s happening again.

What loop are we on?

I don’t know.)

Hargrove’s soldiers burst through the door. Tucker steels himself, lifting his sword in preparation.

(They come from the left.

Watch your back.)

A soldier fires a burst of gunfire, and the armor actives, a bubble shield forming around him. He stabs through it, and hits the soldier in the gut, all the force of the Meta’s strength enhancement and of his rage and sorrow and fear pushed into the blow.

The guard retreats, and another takes his place. Tucker stumbles sideways, into another one of Hargrove’s forces. He hasn’t memorized where each soldier is, and sometimes they catch him by surprise. He always manages to mess something up, no matter how hard he tries not to.

A glowing bolt of energy hits his armor, and the armor’s bubble- and over-shields short-circuit, leaving him defenseless. His active camouflage turns on, distorting his armor’s colors until they match the area behind him. The soldier looks around in confusion, shooting blind.

(We can do this.

Maybe this time, we can save them all.)

He dodges shot after shot, hearing gunfire and shouts ringing in his ears. He pushes back the stream of panicked thoughts that bombard his mind and focuses on the fight, focuses on eliminating the threat, focuses on the fact that this is easy, he can do this.

He’s so focused on what’s in front of him that he doesn’t pay attention to what’s behind. A whimper of pain meets his ears and he whips around, to see Caboose scrambling backwards from a soldier in dented and scratched armor.

Tucker dashes forward, cutting through lines of enemies to reach the blue soldier. He lowers the sword and helps Caboose up, forgetting to check for enemies around him. There’s a sharp cry, and he sees an alien sword protruding from his chest, cutting jagged lines through his armor. As his vision dims, he sinks to the floor, eyes burning.

(So this is how it ends, this time.

I don’t think it’ll ever end.)

His sight goes a stark white, and he cries out in agony, a searing heat tearing through him. He clutches his chest, gritting his teeth as the world dissolves around him.

When he opens his eyes again, slowly, painfully, he’s right back where he started. In Hargrove’s trophy room, Epsilon hovering above his shoulder.

“Hey, uh, I just want you guys to know that, out of everyone I've ever met... I hate you all the least.” Epsilon tells them.

(Yeah, well, it’s a little late for that now, isn’t it.)

Tucker closes his eyes, focusing on the burning red behind his eyelids. “See you, Church.”

He opens them, and Epsilon is gone.

It’s worse than dying, watching Church fragment himself, over and over again. Hargrove’s soldiers don’t give him enough time to stop, to take a breath, to rest. To grieve. They just attack and attack and attack and soon there’s nothing left but ashes and blood and a wisp of a memory, disappearing as the world fades away.

(He tried to tell them, once, about the loops. They didn’t believe him.)

The battle goes quicker, this time. He’s down on the floor, a bullet through his shoulder, and blood staining his teal armor. Caboose is crouched over him, and he smiles weakly at the cobalt soldier.

“It’s okay,” Tucker tells him softly, as Wyoming’s enhancement flares up around him. “It’ll all just-”

“-reset,” he finishes quietly.

Epsilon turns towards him, looking concerned. “Tucker, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he answers. “Just… really tired.” He forces a smile, even though he knows Church can’t see it through his helmet, and fixes his gaze on the door. “Let’s do this.”

#tucker #epsilon #fanfic #mine #feather writes #blue team entry #red vs blue bingo wars #rvb bingo wars

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