#I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!

[mads-nixon]

See the Good

Eugene Sledge x Medic!Reader

Masterlist

A/N: Merry Christmas @iceman-kazansky!! I literally squealed when I saw I got you as my giftee! I loved your prompts, and I hope you like what I did with them!! I'm going to post one gift per day so that they'll be a little spaced out! hbo owns the rights, and this is about the fictional portrayal of k company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Prompt: “You always see the good in people. Even me.”

Word Count: 5.7k

Summary: When Gene can only see himself as the terrible things he's done in the war, (y/n) is right there to remind him who he really is.

Warnings: descriptions of dead bodies (non-graphic)

OKINAWA, JAPAN: MAY, 1945:

The ground beneath their boots trembled, and the deafening whistles of mortars filled the air as (y/n) and the rest of K Company ran for cover. They sunk into the muddy sludge below them, turning each step into a battle against the sucking earth. Gripping her corpsman pack with white knuckles, (y/n) followed Gene, not daring to stop in the barrage.

“They have us targeted!” Burgie yelled, hurdling over a giant boulder in his path. “Get to cover!”

Just as (y/n) ran past the remnants of a demolished shed, a sudden blast threw her violently to the ground, sending a cascade of mud in all directions. Her ears rang with disorientation as she blinked slowly, struggling to regain her senses. The ringing faded into a muffled whine and a face appeared in (y/n)‘s vision. Although the figure’s face was blurred, she knew it was Eugene. His mouth moved rapidly, but she couldn’t understand a word he said. Realizing this, he quickly grasped the front of her uniform and hoisted her to her feet, throwing an arm around her waist to keep her upright as they bolted for cover.

Reaching the rocks, (y/n)‘s hearing slowly faded back, and the sounds of booming artillery reached her ears.

Sledge pulled on her arm, helping her over the rugged terrain. “Come on. We’re almost there!”

Finally reaching the safety of cover, the company continued farther into the rocks to escape the barrage. Snafu was in front of them and on the verge of a panicked breakdown.

“This is bullshit!” he cried, plopping down on a rock. “If I ever find the FO that called that arty, I’ll shoot him!”

Gene maintained his hold on (y/n) as he led them toward a big rock, his frustration evident. “They’ll just do it again,” he huffed, gritting his teeth. “All because some asshole officer read a map wrong and nobody gives a shit about us!”

After he sat (y/n) on the boulder beside Snafu, Eugene took a deep breath and sank beside her. He turned to the dazed woman beside him, her once white corpsman armband a brown and muddy mess. “You alright?” he asked her, knowing even he himself wasn’t alright after what happened before the shelling.

The woman and her baby…

(Y/n) nodded slowly, her eyes rising from the ground to meet his. ”Yeah. Just got my bell rung. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” Sledge persisted.

“Yes, Gene. I’m okay,” she murmured wearily, rubbing her eyes. “Really.”

Removing her helmet, she threaded her fingers through her (y/h/c) hair, wincing at the dried mud that pulled at the roots. Over their time on the dreadful island, they all discovered that the jungle was just as much an enemy as the Japs.

Snafu stared wide-eyed at the ground below him, hands on his head as his chest heaved. His expression was the same one that each marine wore as they grappled with the massacre they’d just witnessed.

What country uses its own civilians as shields for a surprise attack?

As a corpsman, (y/n) had seen more death than the average marine, and after the fierce fighting on the islands of Peleliu and Pavuvu, she was struggling to remain afloat in the vast ocean of numbness that threatened to drown her. The only thing keeping her above water were her boys, the men of K Company: Sledge, Snafu, Burgin, and De L’eau, although Jay had been transferred to intelligence. They’d lost so many good men, and it made her even more thankful for the guys who had always been there for her.

“Corpsman up front!”

The call snapped (y/n) from her thoughts, and she quickly rose, momentarily losing her balance until a strong hand grasped her upper arm, holding her steady. She felt the warmth of his hand through her thin ODs as he held her in place, accompanied by a blush creeping up her neck.

“(Y/n)-” Gene started.

Shrugging him off gently, she turned toward the call. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Be careful,” he whispered after her, watching her form disappear into a sea of olive-green uniforms. With another deep breath, Sledge sat back down, trying to calm his still-racing heart. She had been right behind him…until she wasn’t. Panic had gripped him when he saw her motionless figure in the mud as the artillery rained down around them. When she opened her eyes, he felt a weight lift off his chest.

Rain drenched the marines through the night as they held their position looking up to the ridge. Around 2000HRS the next day, (y/n) trudged back to her squad, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Dried blood clung to her cracked hands, refusing to wash away, no matter how many times she’d scrubbed them raw. The casualties were unending like the rain that constantly poured on them. Luckily, the downpour had come to a stop in the early morning.

She’d been at the BAS since the previous afternoon treating and evacuating wounded marines from the already bloody battle. Continued artillery and fire throughout the day brought a steady stream of bleeding men through the tent’s entrance. One of these men had been Bill Leyden. He wasn’t in good shape, and when (y/n) saw the damage on her friend’s body, the air rushed from her lungs. After pushing away the panic, she quickly helped other corpsmen stabilize him, before sending him off to a hospital ship. As she watched him go, her heart sank at the realization the company had lost another man…another friend.

“Hey Doc,” Snafu called out gently as she approached.

She looked up from her feet at the man with a tired smile. “Hey, Snaf,” she whispered. “You seen Gene?”

Motioning over his shoulder, Snafu replied, “He’s right over there. But, Bill…“

“Yeah,” she sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We got him stabilized. He should make a full recovery. Lost a few fingers, though.”

In a trance-like state, Snafu nodded, his gaze fixed ahead. It was something they all did. A way to escape the horrors they lived through. With a gentle squeeze of his shoulder, (y/n) moved to find Sledge, but the Cajun’s voice stopped her.

“Eugene. He got a letter…his dog died.”

She turned to face him with raised brows. “Deacon?”

“I guess,” the man nodded. “I think he’s bothered more than he’s letting on. You know how Eugene is.”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to him.”

She found him staring into space ahead of him as he sat up against one of the island’s many rocks. Before she approached, (y/n) simply watched the man before her. She could see his growing stubble and the mud that splattered his cheeks, but what worried her was the blank expression on his face. She longed to see the lopsided smile that used to hang from his lips. (Y/n) didn’t know how long it had been since she’d seen that smile…too long.

Pulling her satchel off her shoulder, she quietly approached him and slouched down beside him. They sat silently for a moment, the warmth of their touching shoulders spreading through them. Gene was the first to break the silence.

“Did you see Bill?” he asked quietly, his eyes still glued on the rocks in front of him.

(Y/n) nodded, looking up at him with a small smile. “Yeah, he’s gonna be okay.”

Gene leaned his head back against the ground with a thud, his eyes closed as a shuttering sigh escaped his lips. She sat up off the rock and turned toward him, gently taking his hand.

“I’m sorry about Deacon.”

The second her fingers intertwined with his, Sledge’s heartbeat accelerated, and the man felt heat spread through his body. He took a moment to compose himself before he opened his eyes. He looked down at their intertwined hands before meeting her concerned gaze.

In that moment, Eugene could have sworn she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. It didn’t matter that she was coated in blood, mud, and sweat. She was there for him like nobody else had ever been in his whole life. Sure, he was close with his parents, but he felt they never completely understood him.

Who’d have thought that he’d have to travel almost eight thousand miles to find someone who could do so?

Eugene’s eyes flashed down to her lips, unable to control himself as their closeness made him suddenly bold. He always wondered what they’d taste like. How they’d feel against his. They were chapped, just like everyone else's, but that didn’t matter. The young man wanted a way to show her how much she meant to him. Sure, there had been moments where he told himself he was going to kiss her, but the moment ended before he had the opportunity. Something in the moment felt wrong, though, and he decided to wait once more.

“Thank you,” he whispered, swallowing thickly as he tried to regain his composure and keep the memories of his beloved dog at bay. “He was a good dog.”

“How old was he? 10? 11?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “10.”

The woman’s eyes searched his face, trying to get a read of what he needed from her. She saw pain in his hazel eyes. Pain from the loss of Bill. Pain from the loss of Deacon. Pain caused by the war.

She decided he needed some hope. Some laughter.

“Did I tell you about the time Snaf and I almost got caught stealing from an Army captain?”

Later that day, Gene and the rest of his squad sat among the rocks, each lost in their mind. (Y/n) was beside him, writing in her journal, and they were doing the same…all except Peck, who was attempting to dig a foxhole in the soaked ground. Since the day they arrived on the wretched island, Sledge kept up with how many days they spent there with tallies in the back of his Bible. With the days running together, they rarely knew what day it was or how long they’d been there.

“What’s the date?” Burgie asked, putting down his small journal.

The group turned to Gene, who took a deep breath. “June 5th, maybe. Might be the 6th.” He turned to (y/n). “(Y/n/n), which one you got?”

“I have no idea,” she sighed. “I gave up keeping track a while ago.”

Peck decided to chime in as he dug. “We’re never getting off this island.”

Everyone was thinking it, but he was the one person who dared to speak it aloud.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, glancing over at Gene with an annoyed expression. If looks could kill, Peck would be six feet deep from the redhead’s glare. His jaw clenched tightly, and his chest began to heave as he stared at the replacement.

Sensing his rising anger, (y/n) reached over and placed a hand on his thigh. His eyes moved to meet hers, and her (y/e/c) irises seemed to whisper, ”He’s not worth it,” and, “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Gene took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. Beating the crap out of Peck wouldn’t bring Bill back, and letting anger consume you was a dangerous game. Every time he was tempted to let it in, (y/n) was right there, a soft presence telling him that hate was not the answer. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted daily. Sledge had seen what men could do to each other. He had seen what the Japs did to his friends.

Looking away from Gene, she was met with a strange stare from Snafu, who was smoking a cigarette and sitting on their makeshift toilet. His gaze was questioning, but not criticizing. When the man’s eyes drifted down to her hand, her stomach dropped, and she felt like she was caught red-handed. (Y/n) quickly removed her hand from Gene’s leg and shot to her feet.

“I’m gonna go-uh-do some rounds,” she announced, not daring to look at Gene or Snafu.

A few seconds later, she went treading through the sludge, her corpsman satchel pressed tightly to her side. The men all watched in confusion as she left, unsure what had made her so jumpy all of a sudden.

“She alright?” Hamm asked once she’d disappeared from view.

Burgie, always an observer, glanced over at Sledge to watch his reaction. He looked somewhat like a kicked puppy. Wrapping up his Bible, Gene began to tuck it into his pocket without a word.

“Don’t worry about (y/n), Hamm,” Burgie replied with a nod.

Hamm raised an eyebrow at his sergeant. “But did you see her-”

“She’s fine,” Snafu interrupted, pulling up his pants and rejoining the group. “Besides, she’s already got someone to worry about her.”

At the statement, Eugene froze, a cold chill running through him despite the heat. A million thoughts ran rampant in his mind.

Is there someone else in her life?

Does he know something I don’t?

Does he know how I feel?

Groaning, Burgie smacked the Cajun’s shoulder. “Shut up, Snaf. Don’t go starting crap.”

The sergeant first noticed the bond between Sledge and (y/n) back in training, but especially when the company landed on Peleliu. They always stuck by one another when they could, and she seemed to help calm the Marine amid his anxiety. As time went on and their relationship changed, Romus knew they had feelings for one another, even if they didn’t admit it. He’d never spoken about it to anyone, fearing it could become a rumor that would possibly get the pair in trouble if they ever acted on their feelings. Hearing Snafu insinuate something between them sent a pang of panic through him.

“We all worry about (y/n),” he continued. “But she’s a great corpsman. She can hold her own.”

Before he could finish his sentence, Eugene rose to his feet and went to take a leak. He did have to relieve himself, but he also wanted to get away from the conversation. If Snafu knew about how he felt, the man would never stop tormenting him. Even if it was in a joking way, Gene didn’t want to be the subject of Shelton’s teasing.

Just as he made it to a somewhat secluded spot, he heard Mac’s voice ring out from above him.

“I need a stovepipe boy up top!” he yelled, coming down from the ridge.

Gene slightly ducked his head behind a rock, hoping the lieutenant would miss him. To his dismay, Mac caught his movement in the corner of his eye.

“Sledge, that’s you. Bring some comm wire.”

Sighing when his superior disappeared over the ridge, he muttered, “Yes, sir,” and went to follow his orders.

The stench of excrement and death permeated the air as (y/n) walked through their temporary camp checking on the men. Her eyes watered from the smell, and it took all her willpower not to gag. Even though she’d built a great tolerance to gruesome sights and smells over her time as a corpsman, sometimes it all got to her.

Snafu’s stare replayed in her mind, and she hoped that she didn’t accidentally give herself away to the group. Worry buzzed in her stomach like the disgusting flies that seemed to be ever-present among the mud and filth of Okinawa. (Y/n) tried to busy her mind with the long list of men to check on, but she couldn’t focus more than a few moments before getting lost in her head again.

Spotting a man on her list, she called out to him.

“Hey, James,” she greeted, approaching his muddy foxhole. “How’s the ankle?”

He groaned and shook his head. “As good as it’s gonna be, Doc.”

In the barrage the day prior, the private slipped and rolled his ankle in the mud trying to get to cover. He insisted he was fine, but some of his squadmates sent (y/n) to check on him. Henry James was a stubborn young man who wasn’t even old enough to drink, yet he was on a foreign island in Southeast Asia fighting for his country…fighting to survive. She crouched beside his hole, inspecting the ankle that was elevated above the entrance.

“Were you able to stay off it much?” (y/n) asked, gently prodding the bruised skin.

“A buddy of mine took my OP shift so I didn’t have to walk around on it. It’s more stiff than anything.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “That’s how ankles are. They’re tough-”

Her voice came to a stop as yelling filled the air. It wasn’t cheers of victory or anything of that nature. They were cries of attack…of desperation…of death. The second the sound registered in her mind, she was darting toward the ridge, hoping to get there before the shooting started in case someone got hit. The rapid beating of her heart filled her ears as she ran through the mud and past battle-weary marines. A few of them called out to her, but she didn’t hear them.

The first ping of an M-1 being fired echoed through the air as she made it to the base of the rocky ridge. Cursing under her breath, she quickly began her ascent. Finding the most solid footing, she climbed the hill, using the jagged rocks as handholds. Gunfire filled the air, silencing the screams of the enemy. (Y/n) was out of breath when she made it to the top, but she didn’t stop. Most of the fire had stopped, but a few shots still rang out.

At the moment the corpsman reached the other marines at the top of the ridge, her heart sank at the sight of Eugene unholstering his revolver and aiming at a wounded Jap.

“Cease fire!” Mac cried from the other side of the ridge. “Cease fire!”

Gene didn’t care.

“Damn, Sledge. Leave him,” Hamm muttered to the redhead.

Whipping around to face him, Eugene scowled. “What for? He’s a Jap, ain’t he?”

(Y/n) watched in horror as Gene opened fire on the man already wallowing in the mud. He missed the first two shots, but the third hit its mark, hitting the Jap just above his hip. The soldier sunk into the mud face down, his writhing coming to an end.

“Cease fire!” The Lieutenant repeated as he neared them. “Cease fire, damn it!”

Satisfied with his work, Sledge grabbed his rifle from beside Hamm and turned to descend the ridge. When he noticed (y/n) a few yards away, he froze for a moment, his eyes resembling a dark storm cloud that could start down pouring any second. Guilt seemed to cloud his usual hazel eyes, and he looked away, unable to stay steady beneath her gaze after what he’d just done. He then continued down the ridge.

Mac was quick to confront him, gripping his carbine in one hand with white knuckles.

“I told you to cease fire. What are you doing?”

The private spun to face Mac with gritted teeth.“Killing Japs,” he seethed, turning to go down the hill again.

Before he could get far, the lieutenant spoke again. “You just gave away our position!”

“I think they’ve got a pretty good idea of where we are,” Gene chuckled bitterly.

Mac pointed toward the dead Japs. “I told you to cease fire. You’re supposed to be observing, and then I see you with a damn sidearm!

“We were all sent here to kill Japs, weren’t we?” Sledge screamed, climbing back up to be nose-to-nose with his lieutenant. “So what the hell difference does it make what weapon we use?”

(Y/n) couldn’t help but flinch at Gene’s sudden outburst. She’d never seen him like this before, and she wondered what made him finally break. What was the straw that broke the camel’s back? What had happened in the five minutes she was gone?

A tear streaked down her cheek seeing the man she cared about more than anything giving in to the war. Seeing a man be reduced to a shell of who he once was was always heartbreaking, and (y/n) didn’t realize just how much until she witnessed him finally crack.

“I’d use my damn hands if I had to,” he whispered to a frozen Mac, who clenched his jaw and slowly walked past him. (Y/n) was quick to try and follow Gene once he stormed down the hill, but a gentle hand on her shoulder held her back.

It was Burgin, his face scrunched with concern. “Let ‘em cool off, (y/n/n).”

“Romus, he-”

“I know what he means to you,” he interrupted in a whisper as he glanced around them for any eavesdroppers. “But trust me. You need to leave him be for a little bit. Let him think.”

(Y/n) swallowed thickly. “Please don’t tell anyone, Burgie. I could be-”

“Your secret’s safe with me…He needs you, (y/l/n), but give him a few hours.”

Releasing a shuddering breath, her gaze dropped to the ground. “He was fine when I left. What happened?”

“I don’t know. But we did hear him hollering about something right before he went up top.”

“Thanks for everything, Burg,” she sighed, patting his shoulder softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you and the guys.”

A sheepish smile grew on his face, and he chuckled under his breath. “You’d be a lot more ladylike, that’s for sure. The other day, I’m pretty sure I saw you smoking Sledge’s pipe.”

“Whatever,” she groaned, rubbing a hand down her dirty face. “A lot of women actually smoke, ya know?”

The rest of the afternoon did not go according to (y/n)‘s plan, and she was unable to check on Gene after he cooled down. Within an hour of his outburst, she was called back to the field hospital to assist in an all-hands-on-deck emergency following a Jap ambush. The corpsman was up to her elbows in blood, bowels, and every other bodily fluid from vomit to urine. It was a hard night, and it got even worse when a terrible rainstorm moved in, trapping her from returning to her company due to poor visibility.

(Y/n) spent the night, and most of the next day, helping around the hospital. She dressed wounds, administered pain meds, and helped transport men to the hospital ships on a Jeep. A radio call was received that told of the 1st Marine’s plans to take the ridge, and (y/n) knew she needed to be there.

She caught a ride to the ridge just in time for the assault. The men were checking their weapons and quietly conversing with each other as she walked through the various companies. When she reached her squad, however, silence filled the air. They all had thousand-yard stares, and the group was missing two guys who had been there the day before. Her pace slowed as she approached them.

“Hey, guys,” (y/n) said softly, her eyes flicking from man to man. When none of them acknowledged her, she knew something bad had happened. “Where’s Hamm and Peck?”

Silence.

She took a deep breath, trying not to imagine the worst. “Please, guys, whe-”

“Gone,” Gene interrupted harshly, his gaze snapping to hers. “Hamm's dead and Peck’s gone. He cracked.”

(Y/n) felt the all-too-familiar punch of grief knock the air from her lungs. Eugene’s hazel eyes were dark and stormy, even more so than the previous day. She swallowed thickly, attempting to push down the emotion that clogged her throat.

“What happened?” she asked shakily, her eyes never leaving Gene’s.

Before he could respond, Snafu spoke. “Doesn’t matter. They’re gone.”

“Shelton’s right,” Burgin added. “It’s hard, but we’ve got other things to focus on.”

(Y/n) nodded once and dropped her gaze to the group, blinking away the tears that burned her eyes. Two more of their group were gone. Sure, Peck wasn’t her favorite person by any means, but he was still part of their company….on their side. And Hamm…he was a kid. A kid who deserved better than to die in the mud on some foreign island.

They all deserved better.

“Let’s move out!” Mac announced, waving for them to follow.

Each man followed suit, but Eugene hung back to wait on (y/n). Seeing her tear-filled eyes, he instantly regretted opening his mouth. The anger within him seemed to dissipate momentarily as he joined her side.

“Remember, you’ve got a bullseye on your arm,” he murmured, gesturing to the red and white medic brassard on her arm. “Please be careful.”

“I will.” (Y/n) lifted her helmet to look up at him through her lashes. “You take care of yourself, too, alright?”

“Yes ma’am,” he whispered, admiring her features. His eyes trailed from her eyes down to her nose, and then to her lips before flicking back to her (y/e/c) eyes. They stayed locked in each other’s gaze for a few moments, their eyes seeming to have a silent conversation communicating everything that was left unsaid. Gene slowly reached up to cup her cheek, rubbing his thumb over her cheekbone. The racing of (y/n)‘s heart wasn’t from the artillery that had begun hammering the ridge, but Eugene’s warm caress against her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed at the gentle touch.

They both wished the moment could last forever.

Another yell from Mac shattered the moment, leaving (y/n) missing the tenderness of his hand in its absence.

“I’ll find you after,” he said, turning around and backpedaling to catch up with his squad. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

The corner of her lips quirked into a smirk. “I’ll leave that to you.”

Once the battle had died down and all the remaining Japanese were either killed or taken prisoner, (y/n) went searching for Gene. When the bullets began to fly, she couldn’t get the boy from Mobile off her mind, and anxiety churned in her stomach as she looked for him. The stench of gasoline, blood, and burnt flesh filled the air along her ascent to the ridge. Bodies of both marines and the enemy lined the narrow path up the hill, and her eyes scanned each one, praying that none of them were the men she’d come to love dearly.

“Burgie, you seen Sledgehammer? He was just over here.”

Hearing the familiar Cajun accent, she spun toward the voice and sighed in relief when she saw Snafu atop an old bunker, his legs swinging as he sat on the edge with a cigarette hanging from his lip. Romus was talking to another sergeant a few feet away, his rifle swung around his shoulder.

“There you are!” (Y/n) called out, reaching up and slapping Snafu’s foot. It was all she could reach from his elevated position on the concrete bunker. “You alright?”

He smiled and raised an eyebrow, blowing a puff of smoke into the humid air. “Not a scratch on me,” he mused. “I don’t know where Eugene is, but don’t worry, I just saw him. He’s okay, too.”

With this news, a wave of calm washed over her, and she let out the breath she’d been holding since they parted. “Thanks, Snaf. I’ll find him.”

“Have fun,” he laughed, waving his cigarette around in front of him. “And do me a favor and fuc-”

This caught Burgie's attention. “Hey!” He interrupted, scolding Snafu like he was a parent whose child was acting up in public. “Cut it out.”

Busting out laughing, Snafu winked at (y/n), who could feel the embarrassment creeping up her cheeks at his intended comment. She raised a hand and flipped him off with a grin before continuing her search for Gene.

It took her a few minutes of wandering to spot his familiar frame among the sea of dirty green uniforms, but when she did, a huge smile painted her face. (Y/n) almost called out to him, but something stopped her.

He was sitting alone on the busted remains of a bunker with his helmeted head in his hands, his weapon lying idle in the dirt beside him. She continued toward him slowly, observing the gentle shake of his shoulders that told her he was crying.

“Hey, Gene,” (y/n) murmured with a softness that matched the gravity of the moment, lowering herself onto the earth beside him. He reacted quickly, averting his gaze and hiding his face as he wiped the tears from his dirt-covered cheeks.

Reaching over, she softly turned his face toward her. After a moment of resistance, he gave in to her gentle touch. His eyes, glistening with unshed tears, met hers. (Y/n)‘s fingertips traced the dirt-streaked paths on his cheeks, her touch a soothing escape from the horror they lived in.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, ducking to meet his eyes. “I’m here.”

Gene’s lip began to quiver, and a stifled sob escaped him as he covered his face with trembling hands. “I’m a monster, (y/n). The things I’ve done…” he strained, moving away from her comforting touch.

(Y/n) watched the play of emotions on his face as he stood up abruptly, throwing an arm out to point to a bombed-out building. The skeletal remains of what once was a home loomed in the smoky haze. “There was a family in there. Now a baby with grow up without a family! I called in the mortars up there! I did that! I’m a monster!”

“No,” she shot up, her voice cutting him off. “You are not a monster, Eugene Sledge. We are at war. We’ve all done terrible things here, but it does not make you a monster. The fact that you’re feeling like you are proves you’re not. It means you’re human, Gene.”

Another tear streaked down his cheek as he clenched his teeth. “After Bill and everyone we’ve lost, I wanted to get them back. I wanted to. You saw me yesterday!”

“Eugene! Look at me!” she ordered, cupping his cheeks as she implored his attention. His gaze wandered everywhere but her face until she spoke again, her tone much softer this time. “Hon, please look at me.”

Tear-filled hazel eyes met hers, and she tugged him a little closer, they’re faces only inches apart. “We all want to get them back. You are not a monster.”

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” he croaked, more tears spilling down his cheeks. “What if this is who I am now?”

“I know exactly who you are. You are Eugene Bondurant Sledge. You’re still that same boy from Mobile, Alabama who loved his dog more than anything, the same one who loved to fish with his father, and the very same one who I fell in love with before we even stepped foot on foreign soil.”

A sob escaped his lips, and his eyes squeezed shut, overwhelmed by her words. “There’s no way you can love me like this. You deserve someone else who-”

“I don’t love anyone else, Gene!” she urged, tears stinging her eyes. “I love you, and I’ll say it over and over, every single day, for as long as it takes to make you believe me.”

Shaking his head, he tried to break free from her touch, but she held on. “I’m not a good man.”

“You are good, Eugene. You are a good man. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of, but it’s how we respond to them that makes us who we are. This right here? It proves you’re a good man.”

Her words seemed to break through in his mind, and he froze for a moment. Pulling off his helmet, he moved (y/n)‘s hands from his face and cupped her cheeks, his red eyes still glossy. “I love you,” he murmured, voice wavering. “And I will spend the rest of my life working to be worthy of you if you’ll let me.”

The tears (y/n) had been holding back filled her eyes, a few of them trickling from her waterline. She nodded in his gentle hold. “You already are.”

He wiped a few tears away softly, a lopsided smile forming on his lips. “You’re too good for this world, darlin’,” Gene cooed. “You always see the good in people. Even me.”

With utmost care, Gene reached up and removed (y/n)‘s helmet, her tousled (y/h/c) spilling out. The fading sun added a soft glow to their faces, emphasizing the exhaustion etched in their features. As he delicately held the helmet aside, Eugene’s eyes met (y/n)‘s, a silent understanding passing between them. He closed the gap, his breath mixing with hers as his eyes lingered on her face, taking in every detail-the mud smudges, the fatigue-as if memorizing each nuance.

With a gentle touch, he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was a tender blend of longing and comfort, a quiet promise to stay by the other’s side. In that moment, the world around them ceased to exist. Time slowed as they embraced, finding solace in the simple act of being together at last. The sounds of war faded into the background, replaced by the gentle symphony of two hearts seeking refuge in the warmth of each other’s touch.

[coochellati]

I want Bruno to use his lie-detecting ability but not like with Giorno; I want him to lick my pussy and then call me a filthy liar woman 🥵

no but that’s so HOTTTTT

I headcanon that when it comes to the bedroom, Bruno can be one mischievous mfer. I bet he’d love to play a game where he’d ask you embarrassing questions (nothing too extreme), lie detect you, and punish you if you’re dishonest. Of course, he won’t be licking your face during this game… ;) (I would so lie on purpose—but who wouldn’t??)

You inspired me, so I wrote you a little drabble. ;)

"I know something fun we can do," Bruno smoothly says, a mischievous spark flickering in his eyes as he settles next to you on his bed.

"What is it?" you ask.

His smirk deepens. "I'm certain you're familiar with my 'special talent?' How I'm able to detect a liar by the taste of their sweat?"

A pause. "Of course," you reply. "What about it?"

"I've devised a game," he explains. "It's straightforward—I'll ask you a series of questions, and your job is to answer honestly." He chuckles softly. "I'd like to demonstrate just how sharp my lie-detecting abilities are."

You lightly laugh to yourself, fully aware that Bruno had merely suggested he'd like to "demonstrate his lie-detecting abilities" as a guise for his true intentions.

"Oh really?" you playfully ask. "That's it?"

"That's it."

You smile, sensing he has something up his sleeve. "Alright, I'll play."

He chuckles softly again and fixes his gaze on you, akin to that of a hungry predator. "Perfect," he purrs. "And of course, there'll be consequences if you're anything less than entirely truthful with me."

Ah, there we go--that's his motive.

You feel your cheeks growing warm. "What kind of consequences?"

"I haven't decided yet," he wickedly smiles, the dancing spark in his eyes having ignited into a blazing flame. "It'll depend on the severity of your lie." 

A surge of adrenaline floods your veins, quickening your heartbeat. The bed shifts slightly as Bruno leans in dizzyingly close, stopping when his face is but an inch from yours.

"How does that make you feel?" he teases, his voice lowering to a seductive murmur. His warm breath kisses your skin. "Does this excite you?"

You shakily nod your head, heart roaring in your ears. 

It's silent for a moment as his deep, delft blue eyes flit between your facial features, the electric tension between you palpable. "I don't need to taste your sweat to know you're telling the truth—your excitement is evident," he remarks. With a soft chuckle, he adds, "But I think I will just to be absolutely certain." 

You glance down and notice his stand's hand has materialized. In one swift motion, it unzips your top into shreds, the pieces gracefully cascading around you. A gasp escapes you as your breath catches in your throat, the cool air engulfing your newly exposed skin.

"What's with that look?" he playfully asks as one of his fingers hooks onto your waistband. You feel a tug. "Don't act surprised—you know your face isn't the only part of your body that sweats..."

[queeenpersephone]

omg!!!! i’m so happy you are still alive in the ironwidow fandom and THANKYOU so much for the sneak peak of king of my heart - i am so looking forward 🥹🥹💞💞💞

& when inspiration strikes, here are some drabble ideas from me <3

— Morgan & tonynat drabbles,,,, i read your endgame drabble about them and thought it was sosososososos cute and would love love more of how nat has interacted with morgan through the 5 years and made their little family ( i love domestic fluff and i think nat and children is always just so 🥺 ) + optional appearance of Pepper and Rhodey to complete the iron fam (i don’t ship pepperony but i love pepper and i really appreciate how you write her in your fics <333)

— Nat with young peter drabble!!! i love (how many times have i said love im so sorry there’s no other way to describe my feelings ㅋㅋ) your ao3 fic about nat adopting peter and rasing him, would love to see their little spider family through the years from babey peter to teenage peter and + maybe their little family after the addition of tony 🩷

BUT YES! that’s all from me <3333 have a great day <3

hi hi!! sorry it took me so long to get to this but thank you so much for the prompts - this drabble is adjacent to your first one. it's not exactly on point but it's part of a larger fic ('so it goes') that i'm getting close on finishing up that does have actual morgan&nat interactions! this is just the lead up to that. it was going to be that but then tony and nat started talking and they have a mind of their own lol. still, i hope you love it as much as i love you for this super sweet ask <3

this takes place in this drabble's universe where tony and pepper break up (but changing it a little so it's after they have morgan) and tony and nat get together about a year and a half after infinity war. you don't have to read that one to get this one <3

-

At first, he doesn’t realize that he’s keeping his two lives separate. 

Natasha comes upstate often, but sporadically. They don’t speak of it, but he knows that she’s running operations for the Avengers. Sometimes, he wants to call up Bruce or Clint or Thor or, god, even Steve, and demand to know why it’s Natasha who has to keep the world together while the four of them wallow. But then he’d be a hypocrite because he’s wallowing too, and that useless conversation isn’t compelling enough to open up a line of conversation that he wants to remain closed. Plus, it would violate the unspoken agreement between Nat and him that their time is sacred, separate, and private. 

It takes him about eight months to realize that she never visits when Morgan is with him. 

Initially, he’s grateful. Morgan knows about Natasha, but only as Daddy’s friend who visits him sometimes when she’s not there. He certainly talks all about Morgan to Natasha, who easily keeps up with the proper commentary, questions, and advice when he gushes or worries about his daughter. 

Morgan, as the brilliant three year old she is, is the one who throws a wrench in things when she finds Natasha’s jacket on the couch. When Tony tells her that his friend must have left it when she was visiting a few days ago, Morgan collapses on the couch and immediately pouts. 

“Auntie Nat?” She demands in the cutest toddler voice he’s ever heard. Tony has never really liked kids, but this one? She’s amazing. He nods in response to her question. “She was here?”

Tony smiles. “She’s here a lot, munchkin. Who do you think has been helping me with all your pretty flowers?” 

“You do the flowers with her?” Tony’s brow furrows at the disgruntled tone. Is she jealous? He opens his mouth to reassure her that he loves planting flowers with her the most when she speaks again. “I wanna do flowers with Auntie Nat!” 

“You don’t even know Auntie Nat,” Tony points out, crouching down in front of her and tucking her hair behind her ear to see her face. 

“Yes I do! Mama said she’s your friend, and Uncle Rho says that they ‘venge together. Daddy, I want to ‘venge with Auntie Nat too!” 

Tony chuckles, lifting Morgan into his arms and pressing kisses to her cheeks until she giggles. “There will be no avenging, but maybe there can be flowers,” he tells her. “No promises. I have to talk to Auntie Nat first.” 

A few days later, she runs into her mother’s arms, chattering about Natasha and her red hair that she saw in pictures and can she have red hair like Auntie Nat’s or Mama’s? Pepper raises an eyebrow at Tony, who shrugs. 

“It’s about time,” she says, kissing his cheek in parting before getting into the car and driving off. It used to hurt, this part. But it doesn’t hurt anymore, because Morgan’s departure signals Nat’s arrival. 

For the first time, that idea of that separation makes him frown. 

The frown lasts for another few hours, when Nat pulls up in the 1965 Shelby Cobra, one of his favorites that he’s permanently loaned her. Not like he has to drive anywhere. He tries to put on a grin for her, but she sees right through it. 

“What happened?” She demands immediately, before even greeting him. Her eyes scan their surroundings, as if looking for a threat.  

He just shakes his head at her, holding out his arms. “Get out of the Compound mindset and into the cabin one,” he cajoles. “Kiss me, and I’ll explain.”

She caves, pressing a gentle, domestic kiss to his lips, the one he loves that makes him feel like they’ve been together forever. When she tries to pull back, he resists, holding her close for a beat longer. She allows it, sinking into his embrace in return. 

“Okay,” he sighs after another thirty seconds, leading her into the house, “I’ll tell you everything.” 

“If only it was this easy creating treaties with aliens,” she drawls, spotting her jacket on the couch. “Oh, I was looking for this one.” 

Tony ignores the second comment, turning to her with wide eyes, affecting the most offended look he can come up with on the spot. “You’re telling me you’re out there kissing aliens to get them not to destroy the Earth?” 

Natasha spots the joke from a mile away, but she plays along. He’s sure she knows how much he’s missed verbal sparring with the team. “I’ve never kissed an alien,” she retorts, but then, almost as an afterthought, something flickers in her eyes, and she turns quickly to grab the jacket. “I’ll just put this with my things upstairs, so I don’t forget it again,” she adds, walking toward the stairs. 

Spotting the flash like a seasoned veteran he is of understanding this particular woman, he narrows his eyes, following after her.  “Wait wait, what was that?” He accuses, making his way up the stairs. They creak with each of his steps, even Morgan’s light steps, but never Natasha’s. “You’ve kissed an alien?” 

“I haven’t kissed anyone since we started this,” she soothes, entering his room and hanging the jacket up in the closet space he’s left for her. She’s clearly hoping to drop the subject.

Oh no. Tough luck. He’s not really upset, especially not with this new, roundabout admission that they are exclusive, but he’s not going to let this go. “Who?” He pushes, fighting to hold back his grin. He stays in the door, bracing his hands on the frame. Not that she couldn’t get past him easily. She shakes her head, pursing her lips. “I swear I will never bring it up again, I solemnly swear, but if you don’t tell me, I’m going to keep asking and asking… better yet, I’ll ask the only alien we really know-”

The skin around Natasha’s eyes tightens just a little, but it’s enough. 

“Thor?!” He shouts, before rubbing his hands over his eyes. “Agent Romanoff… You - how - when -” 

“A mission,” she explains, short and sweet. “Before Ultron. For a cover. That’s it. Are you done?” 

Something in her voice makes him pause. “Yeah, Nat. I’m done.” She moves to leave, and he drops his hands to let her. 

The house is silent for a little while before he goes to find her. She’s on the bench on the dock, listening to the wind whistle through the trees. It’s getting dark early now, a sign of the approaching winter. The trees still have some color, though, and it’s beautiful. 

He doesn’t waste another second. “Look, honey, I’m sorry. I touched a sore spot. You know I don’t think less of you for what you’ve done, right? Because if I haven’t made that clear, I’m making it clear here and now.” 

She sighs, patting the seat next to her. He sits so that their legs press together, and she leans her head on his shoulder. 

“It’s not that,” she says. “I just… I saw Thor last week.” Tony stays silent, waiting for her to continue. “I want to respect your feelings on this, Tony,” she adds finally. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them. “Tell me,” he requests, and she does. 

She keeps it brief, but even brief, it sounds terrible. Tony had never been close with Thor; he was always going off-world, doing his own thing. Tony would never admit it, but he’s always been cautious of the demigod after realizing that it was his brother who terrorized New York. And then, during Ultron, Thor had choked him, gone off on his own again, and hadn’t really come back for any substantial amount of time afterwards. Sure, Tony’s well aware that he hadn’t tried to understand the life of a god king, but then Thor hadn’t seemed to think much of him either. 

He really hadn’t thought Natasha to be all that close with Thor either, and from her words, he hadn’t been wrong. But she’s been making efforts, and all of those efforts have been going to waste as Thor sinks deeper and deeper into a depression of which none of his friends, people, or the Avengers can cure him. 

“I didn’t want to tell you,” she says, reading the horror in his expression. 

He wants to tell her that she can tell him anything, that he’s willing to help, that he can go see Thor or Thor can come here because Tony himself is happy now, is content, is willing to help, can save the world again…

“- Hey, Tony. Tony! Listen to me, solnyshka, count my heartbeat. One, two, three, breathe.” 

He opens his eyes. He hadn’t even realized that he had closed them. “Natasha, I’m sorry,” he breathes. 

She shakes her head. Are those tears in her eyes? “No, I’m sorry. You had something to tell me?” 

“Nat, Thor-”

“No,” she says, final and serious. “No, Tony. Tell me what you wanted to say.” 

He caves. He’s afraid to admit he caves because he wants to. What kind of superhero is he? “Morgan wants to meet you,” he offers. “She saw your jacket.” He chuckles a little wetly, but Natasha is too kind to comment on it. “She’s jealous that I get to plant flowers with you and she doesn’t.” 

Natasha is silent for a moment, then: “and you want this? Pepper is okay with it?” 

This time when he laughs, it comes out clear. He can feel her relax next to him. “Of course I am,” he tells her. “You two are the best parts of my life.” Natasha smiles. “And never worry about Pepper. She saw this coming far before you or me.” 

She turns into him, burying her cold nose in his neck. Perhaps she is protecting herself from the cold autumn air, but he thinks he knows better. “With Pepper’s brains and your good looks, that kid is going to go far.” 

“What about my brains?”

“I know what I said,” she retorts, but he can feel her smiling against his neck. 

He sighs, but he’s grinning when he wraps his arm around her a little tighter, turning his face into her hair. “You’re not as inscrutable as you think, you know,” he whispers. An offered truth. 

She inhales, and they watch the lake for a while before she returns the favor. “I know. I’m not trying to be inscrutable with you,” she confesses.

[iceeericeee]

...Cowboy

-🦆

The rooster crows

As I rise with the sun

Just like every day

It’s time for work

I saddle up my horse

And ride out to the pasture

The ranch hands help

herd the cattle

And when that is done

It’s time to rest

And as I sit

I think to myself

‘What would it be like

if I weren’t here?

Would I be fancied up

In a nice suit

Dancing with the ladies?

Or would I be on the streets

of New York, begging for scraps?’

And as I think, I begin to realize

I’ll just settle for here and now

The life of a cowboy

Is good enough for me

[koobiie]

shoutout to everyone who wants to infodump but cant string together coherent thoughts to form sentences and instead just look at you like this

[spineless-lobster]

I am not the divine masculine or the divine feminine I am the divine comedy and you will address me as such

[youthofpandas]

What’s up with how the dunmeshi fandom just lies about this kind of stuff all the time. It is easily confirmable information that it was a monthly series, something incredibly common in the industry.

A not weekly magazine schedule is literally common !! Especially in the seinen shoujo and josei demographics, sometimes monthly, sometimes biweekly, sometimes every two months, sometimes seasonal! Please stop lying about how Dunmeshi was some special unique creation that defies all standards of manga just to hype it up because it is so clear that every single one of these comparisons is centered around Weekly Shonen Jump (and understand that SJ has many magazines under its brand that are monthly or semimonthly). Not everything is WSJ and it needs to stop being the only point of reference in conversations like this 🤧

[badolmen]

WARNING 18+

19

[iscariotapologist]

today in church one of the priests referred to trans people as "those who are growing into the gender they were called to be" and i'm kind of enjoying the idea of like....divinely ordained top surgery

[devildaisies]

🔥 H-O-T-T-O-G-O 🔥

[canisalbus]

✦ Fashionably late ✦

[kensatou]

(✿◕‿◕) die (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)

[kotse]

@hg-aneh your honor they’re silly

edit: i am NOT aneh!! i love and have borrowed their character designs, no affiliation!!

[erabu-san]

K'uhul Ajaw

[derangedorange]

I hope he views fanart like this