#IT FEELS LIKE I JUST STARTED WATCHING IT EARLIER THIS EYAR???????????????????????????

[mothwingedmyths]

IN ONE WEEK AND A COUPLE DAYS I WILL HAVE BEEN WATCHING MURDER DRONES FOR A YEAR. WERE GOING TO THE TORTURE LABYRINTH TOMORROW

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Dead Man Walking (DonnyxFem! Reader)

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines

Let me know if you want to be tagged in these/have any requests :)

(Sorry it’s a bit long :/ )

Donny couldn't see anything in the room. The musty damp air of the abandoned inn wafted around, and was heavy after the rain, and the long day.

"Fuck you, Donny." You muttered, as he heard you storm up to your bunk.

He laid back on his bunk. He was pissed...

He didn't care enough to answer back...actually...he cared too much.

You, on the other hand, had enough.

You knew it had been your fault. You didn't need constant reminders and glares from everyone.

You and Omar were on a mission alone, together, which Donny didn't like to begin with. He tried to convince Aldo that letting 'the Russkie,' and 'one of the kids' alone was a bad idea.

It wasn't because you were trained as a Soviet spy. It wasn't because Omar was one of his closest friends, and one of the youngest....

In fact, he thought highly of both your skills as basterds.

That was just it...he thought too highly of you. He wanted it to stop. 

He needed an excuse to stop loving you.

And when Omar got hurt on your watch, Donny took it as an opportunity to hide his heart away.

The basterds didn't take it too lightly either. Not even you were on your own side. You didn't try to defend yourself.

Only Omar did.

 He constantly made jokes out of it. He tried to make you feel beter, because even though in the basterds eyes you seemed remorseless, Omar looked long enough to see the truth.

He was there when it happened. "They weren't there when it happened, it's ok."

"It shouldn't have happened." You had walked away from him after he'd been bandaged up, and made your way to your bunk.  That was when you had enough of Donny's muttering, and told him to fuck off. You'd just had enough of the war.

In the span of three years, you had lost your family, your country, and one of your greatest gifts. You used to be a sharpshooter...

Donny muttered, "Fucken rookie."

You were no rookie to war, or to the double life. You were still a rookie to the basterd life. Although the basterds had only just gotten a hold of sergeant Hugo Stiglitz months before your arrival, and had all been  'rookies' themselves, some of then were not sure as to why the OSS sent you to them. You, despite your ability to speak a variety of languages, and a frighteningly profound  knowledge about the enemy...you were a bit rusty when it came to shooting.

In fact, you were a terrible shot.

And the shot you missed that morning meant a nazi made his, and it almost cost Omar his life.   You looked down at  your knuckles. The skin was raw, practically shredded off. Your firsts were the only reason either of you made it out at all. Not that it mattered to them, given how badly Omar was hurt... In fact, you didn’t even let it matter to you. Your friend was hurting, and you really were convinced it was your fault. You snuck out, hoping to get some air without  one of them being an absolute basterd to you... Donny didn't notice you leave your bunk.

Donny stayed up thinking about the incident half the night. On one hand, the basterds couldn't afford to lose anyone, and one mistake like that made him livid. How could you miss that fucking shot? ...On the other hand, he just never seemed to be able to get you off his mind to begin with.

"And another thing! I'm still your fucken sergeant, don't fucking talk to me like th...." He looked over to your bunk, and squinted. He was unable to make out the usual mass under the sheets.

"Y/n?"

You didn't respond.

Donny realized you were not in your bed, and got up to look for you. It wasn't normal...

He knew you were a light sleeper.

Spies usually were...

And although your espionage days were technically behind you, and you had the OSS' seal of approval, the basterds couldn't seem to bring themselves to trust you.

They didn't know you.

Apart from Hugo, you may have been just the biggest mystery among them.

All they knew for certain was your name, your rank, and that you were a Soviet spy that had been enlisted by the OSS and sent to fight with the basterds.

Why exactly, was never revealed to them.

If what they knew was really your name or one given to you for the sake of international security, they didn't know.

So really, all they knew for certain about you was that you were a former spy, a terrible shot, and a private.

Whenever they'd approach Hugo, he'd glare at them, and sit in silence.

When they appraoched you, and asked you about Russia, you at least smiled softly.

But you could never bring yourself to explain what happened to you...

Aldo knew just a bit more than the others. It was information given to him by his own general when you were first sent to the basterds.

Aldo himself didn't know the full story, but just enough to understand you.

He understood that as a trained spy, you were not an open book, and probably never would be...but he also understood you were not a person of many words because of what happened to you... What exactly happened was not revealed to him either.

The basterds had all gathered around Omar, talking about what happened earlier that day.

Donny walked toward them, hoping you'd be there. "Anyone see-"

"Sh."

He was almost stunned that Hugo had directed any sound toward him.

"What?"

"Aldo's telling us what he knows."

Donny asked, "About the russkie?"

Aldo overhead, and looked around, realizing the basterds were all gathered, "Russkies are on our side now, Donny-boy."

Hirschberg mutterd, "Barely..."

Omar rolled his eyes. "I told you. It's not a big deal. Y/n's trying her best!"

Smitty shook his head, "You almost died. It's a huge deal!"

Aldo grunted as he sat down. "You wanna hear the story I got, or not?"

Wicki hushed everyone and Aldo sighed and nodded, "Ok. Kid used to be a spy. You all know that. She speaks couple different languages. Some better than others."

Some of the basterds chuckled. Donny found himself giggling  a bit, remembering how nice he thought your accent was.

"She was just a kid. Good at making and breaking codes, Soviets used her. Dropped her behind enemy lines three years ago, bout eighteen eyars old, used her since she can speak German bout as good as them two boys."

Wicki and Hugo nodded. They'd been stunned when she interjected on one of their brief conversations once, without a trace of an accent.

"Somewhere along the lines, communication got muddled, someone was a traitor, she got double crossed, and caught by the SS. They took that little girl as a POW, got her marked up."

Donny narrowed his eyes as his heart fell... He thought he saw something on your arm the day you joined them. You had made brief eye contact with him as you quickly pulled a jacket over yourself.

He then realized he'd never seen you without long sleeves on... You never wanted any of them to ask questions, and you never wanted a nazi to know what their brothers in arms had managed to do to you, or to recognize you.

Hugo looked up...he was once in a prison. He knew the extent of the nazi's cruelty...

It wasn't a wonder that you rarely spoke after that. 

Aldo went on, "There was an operation run by the French. They were able to help some of 'em poor fuckers escape, she was with em. Soviets let the OSS take her since the nazis knew too much. Sent her to us."

Simon shook his head, still not understanding, "Why us..."

Aldo shrugged, "Story is  she was a good shot, and a good ass kicker. Good at hand to hand combat."

Omar nodded as he rested his hand against his bandaged chest, "She fought that kraut to the ground. It was crazy...like...like watching the craziest bar fight you ever saw!"

Aldo chuckled a little, "Decent shot at point blank, though. Don’t know why she can’t make a regular shot. Them krauts did something to her."

Wicki nodded, deep in though, "So whatever changed her had to have happened at the camp..."

Smitty asked, "Yeah, but what happened? If she used to be such a good sharp-shooter, what the fuck happened? You can't lose your mojo that bad for so long..."

All the basterds had practical heart attacks when they heard your voice behind them. "What happened was I was shot point blank. Right here."

They turned around, and saw you tapping your right temple. Their eyes inevitably trailed up your arms. Your sleeves were rolled up. It was a humid night, and you never wore anything but long sleeves. A series of bold, black numbers permanently etched into your skin  stunned them.

You raised your hand up, and pulled hair away from your face. For once, you would be giving them a full explanation, something a spy flike you was not accustomed to.

"I'm blind in my right eye. Deaf in my right ear, too."

"What?" Omar was shocked. They all were, looking to you for a better explanation.

"I'm half deaf and half blind. I lost my depth perception. I was a sharpshooter over a year ago. The only shots I can make now are point blank. I can't hear the things I used to, but I can read lips in five languages, which comes in handy more often than you'd think. I've also become  skilled at throwing grenades, and hand to hand combat. No, I didn't let Omar get hurt, no I didn't miss the shot on purpose."

Omar smirked a little, "What doesn't kill you makes you a basterd."

You smiled a little, though you still wished he hadn't gotten hurt at all.

The basterds understood after that, but they started to call you a jinx for a while, as a joke, of course.

Until...the basterds sort of jinxed themselves. Months passed.

You and Omar once again found yourselves at the hands of the nazis...This time, Donny was tagging along.  

They couldn't say you didn't warn them.

The three of you had been walking.

You recognized a man walking by.

He was the same one that tortured you day in and day out when you were a prisoner. 

You froze for a moment. You didn’t need more than that to make sure it was him. You could never forget his face. You reached for your gun.

Donny nudged you, "C'mon kid, we're gonna be late."

"That one."

"What?" He looked at you in confusion, waiting for an answer.

You half turned, and Donny glanced up, and watched the man walk down the street. "What about him?"

The man was in civilian's clothes, so to Donny, he looked as just that. A civilian.  He frowned and pulled you aside, "What's goin' on?"

You looked up, and Donny looked into your icy, angry eyes as you glared at the man, and  muttered "Dead man walking." Donny knew what that meant. All the basterds did. When you knew someone was undercover and an enemy, you would mutter it. It happened to have been the very first thing you learned in English...

Omar looked over, and stopped.

He trusted you.

It was then that Donny understood why he could practically see the rage through your eyes, when you usually kept your temper in dangerous situations. He clenched his jaw, eyeing your covered forearm, then glancing at the nazi.

But it was too late by then... The nazi had recognized you, too. He never could forget your face either. You were ‘the one that got away’.  You were surrounded, and had no escape.

It turned into a Mexican stand-off.

Most of the guns were aimed at you: All the nazis wanted to get rid of the basterds, of course, but this one in particular had a vendetta against you.

His whole team knew your story.

The spy that should have been dead turned basterd, and was a menace at close range.

After your escape from the camp, there were orders that you were to be killed on sight.

Still, the men in that post had unfinished business with you. "Drop the weapons, or we kill the girl."

Six guns on you, one on Donny, and one on Omar.

Omar looked to his sergeant, Donny looked at you, eyes begging for mercy as he dropped his gun. "I'm sorry, Y/n.”

He knew you'd never forgive him for sparing you.

"Donny...no..."

He looked at you, and for the frst time you saw sincerity in his eyes. Usually he was cynical and indifferent toward you... But his eyes were soft as he murmured,  "I'm sorry..."

The three of you were tied up, and forced onto a jeep, and thrown out somewhere in the forest.

The nazis moved away from you, and plotted it all out.

The night came, and you had all been silent for hours.... Until Donny muttered, "What're the fucken krauts talking about anyway?"

You sat and looked up at the stars, knowing what was to come, "How they're going to torture and kill us..." You had known for hours. And you had known exactly what they were going to do. And you knew exactly what it felt like. It wasn't anything you'd ever want Donny or Omar to feel...and you didn't want them to spend their last few hours in silent anxiety and hopelessness, so you didn't tell them everything you knew.

Donny looked at you, then the ground at your feet, at the earth that you should have been buried under long before.

He couldn't let you go through it again.

He couldn't let you die.

He knew what you lost, he knew you were young, and he couldn't let you lose it all.

He couldn't lose you.

You, on the other hand, were not willing to be a jinx. You were not willing to let the basterds lose Omar and Donny in one night...

You were a spy. Or, had been.

That's how you had learned to see yourself, a has-been.

You thought the world, the basterds, and the OSS could stand to lose you, but not them...

And as a fomer spy, you quite literally had a trick up your sleeve.

You used a small razor to cut through Omar's ropes, and then got halfway through Donny's before you heard the nazi's laughter get closer...

"Omar, go!"

"What?!"

You looked him in the eyes, "I'll run toward them. They want me, not you."

"We're basterds, we're bounty hunters dream ri-"

"They want me, Omar. He couldn't get me a year ago. He wants to kill me first." "But-" You didn't dare look in their eyes. "They're gonna take their time with me. Go."

Donny shook his head, "We stay together, y/n. This isn't a fucking debate. What are you fucking crazy?!"

Omar stared right back at you until you looked at him, "I'm not running without you."

"You're not running, you're giving Donny a chance." You started walking towards the clearing,

"But-"

You looked back at him. You pointed to his chest, over the scarring from an evitable bullet. "I owe you."

"Y/n. Y/n, come back! You don’t owe me shit!"

You gulped, shook your head, and looked Omar in the eyes,  "Don't let this go to waste." You hesitated for a moment. And one moment only.

You looked at Donny one last time as he tried to break the ropes with his brute strength, trying to give you a fighting chance. "Y/n...y/n don't do this! Don't go! Don't  fucking do it! That's an order!" You looked at Omar, ignoring Donny, and nodded once, encouraging him.

Omar started running, understanding that if the nazis came any closer, all three of you would die. He ran away as fast as he could to get help.

"Y/N, IT'S A FUCKING ORDER, I SWEAR!"

You looked to him, your soft eyes begged, "I'm sorry, sarge." You left him speechless as you left him alone. You turned and ran, to distract the nazis, give Omar a headstart, and Donny a fighting chance.

You heard Donny's voice behind you as the nazi's came into view.

"Y/N!"

They grabbed onto you, just as you planned, and never bothered to go check up on the basterds. It was you they wanted to kill. It was you they got.

They mocked you, "Dead man walking, Private L/N?"

They threw you down onto your knees, "Where are the others?"

"What others?" You looked up at your murderers.

You were struck with the gun. "The basterds. We have the Bear Jew, and Ulmer. Where are the others?"

"Fuck you."

"Where is your lieutenant, Aldo the Apache!? Hugo Stiglitz?! Where is The Little Man?"

"Who?" you were genuinely confused that time.

He barked at you, like a rabid dog...Some things never changed. "SMITHSON UTIVICH, THE LITTLE MAN, WHERE IS HE?!"

You smirked a little, unable to believe that that was his nickname. You composed yourself in a split second, "I don't know him."

"Do you want me to bring out the Bear Jew and Private Ulmer? Maybe seeing their blood and brains smeared on these fucking trees will jog your memory! I'm sure you're acquainted with them, after all."

You narrowed your eyes, "Who says 'acquainted' anymore?"

He lost his temper,  and growled, "I'll take that as a yes."

You laughed in the nazi's face, eyeing the gun's barrel aimed directly at your face.

He laughed right back at you.

It was just like last time.

You were insolent, and defiant. You had been a thorn in his side for nearly two years. First because you never gave in to the interrogations, then because you refused to die. It seemed you had been the 'dead man walking' all along.

This time, he would make sure you wouldn't come back to haunt him.

He struck you again with the back of his gun until you struggled to stay on your knees.

Still, you looked him in the eyes.

He would never win, you knew that.

He could take your life, and a thousand more, but he would never win the war.

That was what made you smile, as blood trickled down your nose, and down your face from a gash on your forehead.

You looked him in the eyes, and it scared him.

He was horrified.

Only an unholy demon could face someone like him the way you did.

"That all you got?" You looked up, smirking as you caught your breath.

He spat, "Fuck you."

"Creative, I like it."

He growled as he took his knife, and tentatively slashed you across your abdomen "WHERE ARE YOUR FRIENDS?!"

"The girls? Moscow, probably. The boys are on the eastern front. I'll send them your regards!"

"Geh zum Teufel! I will send you to hell!"

"Fun. Imeyte v etom." You smirked. It was something you'd say to him every time the interrogation turned into torture. You would never tell them what they wanted to know, and you knew the nazi's cruelty knew no end. Therefore, you didn't know your end. Those had been your chosen last words. Russian, your language... and cynical, your specialty. Imeyte v etom: Have at it.

He shrieked in frustration, and pulled out his gun. "I WILL KILL YOU IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO."

You glanced down for a momrnt as you chuckled, and saw that blood was pooling throufh your shirt. "Do better this time." He glared at you, nostril flaring like a bull's, his eyes soulless and cruel like only a nazi's could be.

Blood was also dripping into your good eye.

This was no way to die...far from home, alone, and in the face of the enemy.

But, you smirked, knowing you never lost your dignity.

You pressed your forehead against the barel with a foreceful push, you spat some blood at him,  "Finish the job, Herman. Imeyte v etom."

He clenched his jaw, and cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowing, "I will, this time, dead man."

You smirked a little, looking up at him.

It was only fair for the last words he ever heard to be in his native language, you thought.

"Leiche."

'Corpse.'

His face contorted, puzzled over what your final words were supposed to mean. He knew that wasn't what you said every time you expected to die. He expected you to give one final denial, or one final dare. A protest. He expected you to say it in Russian, just as you always did. He expected you to  silent defiance, just as you did the last time he 'killed' you.

Instead, you called him a corpse.

He didn't understand...

It delayed his kill, just for an instant.

And in that instant, you smirked a little, taunting him in his final moments, as he was filled with confusion.

That instant, that infinitesimal instant, changed your fate.

Just as he pulled the trigger, a baseball bat swung as his skull full force, the gun fell, and the bullet barely missed you.

Still, you had been dealt quite a few blows, and the deep gash across your abdomen wasn't much help. You had your life and your dignity, a strong temperance, but you were hurt... It was in the blink of an eye. The basterds emerged from the trees and bushes. In the blink of an eye, each nazi was either dead or screaming for mercy. A few basterds were already in the process of taking scalps...they had a debt to pay, after all. You looked up, your one good eye beginning to swell over in dull pain, blood still trickling down your forehead and nose, your wound stinging and burning. You stood up, and held your head up high. Once again, you had cheated death. You had laughed right in her face. Your soul had been salvaged once more. And yet, you wondered why, as you held onto your bleeding torso... The blunt thud of Donny's bat suddenly ceased, which snapped you back to the world around you. He wiped some of his sweat away with his forearm as he grinned at you, "Congratulations, kid. Takes a helluva a basterd and balls to do what you did. You're one lucky basterd." You looked at him... That was your answer. Donny Donowitz was the reason you were still alive...

Aside from the fact that he'd literally beaten your would-be-murderer to death...there was more to it. You saw it but denied it, after every single lingering glance, every unexplained smile... Sometimes he spoke a little softer when you were around. You'd noticed that, but you refused to take it into account. Donny...may not have been the brightest basterd, but he knew a thing or two. He knew your sharp tongue was a double edged sword. You spoke rarely, but when you did, you seemed to push him away at every chance. Sometimes, he did the same. Eyes could never lie, though.

There was something there... And it was the reason you didn't die in any of your lucrative missions, or in the POW camp, or that night. You found love...

Or maybe, love found you... Love was in Donny's eyes. His smirking pride vanished when he rezlies it hadn't been just a few hits. When he saw you stumble, your knees shaking, when the blood seeped through your clutching arm. "Oh, fuck! Y/n!" He let go of his bat, something he'd never done before, and held you up. "Is it bad? It's bad." "Not too bad." You shook your head...definitely having seen worse before. "You're bleeding, y/n! Aldo! Guys?! She's hurt!" You winced a little, but shook your head, "It's ok, Donny." "What?" He looked at you as if it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. Your blood was smeared on his arms, something that would never leave his mind. "It's not o-fucken-kay!" You smiled a little, looking up at him, "I've had worse. I'm not dead, am I?" Sometimes, he thought you were too easy going for your own good. "You're hurt, doll. You're bleeding. And I'm not leaving till I know you're ok. I'm not leaving, you hear that?" You nodded once and smiled softly, "I  hear you...kind of." He rolled his eyes, helping you down until help came... "Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny, kid." He wanted to help you himself, but he didn't know much about medical things, and sometimes he didn't know his own strenght. He didn't want to risk hurting you even more. You looked up at him... Maybe you'd underestimated your wound...you realized that as the adrenaline died down, but looking up at Donny, you knew everything would be alright. It had to be. You had a reason to be alive, and he was looking right down at you. "What'cha smiling at?" He couldn't help but smile a bit himself. "Thank you, sarge." "Me? What did I do?" "I'm only alive because of you and Omar." He shook his head, "We're only alive cause of you." "Thanks, Don..." He looked down at you, and realized it all... "Hey...hey kid?" "Yeah?" You realized something too....before that, he never called you anything other than 'the russkie' or 'the spy.' He'd been calling you 'kid,' and even if you were half deaf, and half dead, you could've sworn you heard him call you doll at some point. Donny, at that moment, realized he loved you... As Andy and Hirschberg arrived to help you, he stood back. But he never let you out of his sight. Not again. Life gave you a second chance, he didn't want to risk losing you. As much as you both loved ridding the world of nazis, and fighting side by side, and living a basterd's life... a wave of relief washed over Donny the night the basterds ended the war. A nazi's bullet would never be near either or you again. There was no need for a bloody baseball bat. There was no need for you to be close range to nazis day in and day out. There was no need to ever be apart. And you never were again. A former spy, and a basterd: Two undisputed war heroes, who did the impossible to stay alive and stay together, somehow stayed in love after years of denial and danger. Somehow, your second chance to live became Donny's chance to love.