#merriell shelton/reader

[ruewrote]

𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑘 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡.

↪︎ josh washington

↪︎ merriell 'snafu' shelton

↪︎ benjamin

↪︎ rami malek

[queenie-official]

i don’t know what it is about this scene but he got me feeling some typa way 😩

[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.

[iceman-kazansky]

Reblogging for awareness

We are happy to announce, that @hbowardaily is once again hosting an online gift exchange for the holidays with a few small changes to previous years!  

This event is open to anyone and we will be accepting all characters from the three shows in any creative form! Gifsets, edits, graphics, moodboards, fanarts and fanfics are all welcomed! However in this event you can only participate on Tumblr, which means all creations should be posted to Tumblr, even the full texts of fanfictions!

Please use the tag #hbowarsanta23 for every creation so we can reblog them!

During this event everyone will give something and receive something. After the sign-ups are over we will reach out to everyone and send them their giftee’s url and preferences.

During the exchange, you have to send anonymous messages to your giftee to get to know about them and their likes/dislikes, the goal of the exchange is to get to know each other better! At least two anonymus messages should be sent during the event, one in November and one in December. This will be checked so please don't forget to send something!

Make sure you have your ask and anon feature enabled to participate!

You can make your gift anytime, but don’t post it before the posting starts!

Make sure you allow messages from those you don't follow or give our admin (@supervalcsi) a follow, so we can send out your giftee's information. This will be checked upon applying, and your application won't be accepted until you do the needful!

In case somebody is not able to finish the event, we are in need of pinch-hitters for those who wouldn’t get anything otherwise. Please if you would be able to make one more gift in this case, fill out the respective question on the sign-up form you can find below!

In the light of our last exchange event we are intorducing a new drop-out system. Those who drop-out after sending out information will be banned from our next exchange event, those who drop-out after posting has started will be banned for two years from all our exchange events. Dropping out before November won't have any consequencies.

Schedule:

Sign-ups: Oct 12. - Nov. 1.

Sending out information: Nov. 2 - Nov. 5

Creating: Nov. 6 - Dec. 23

Posting your creations: Dec. 24 - Dec. 27.

HERE you can find the sign-up form! Introducing a new option, from now on you are able to send your application to your email address, so you have your choices and answers later on.

If you have any question, don’t hesitate to contact us!

[ithinkabouttzu]

Hey could you do a first time with the pacific characters x reader??

First time with the pacific boys

genre! smut; romance

warnings! sexual intercourse, swearing, reader has a hole, just plain filth. *minors please do not interact, 18+ only*

description! The pacific boys (listed below) having sex with you for the first time.

read my disclaimer in my pacific masterlist! Also note that reader is gender neutral.

Eugene Sledge: He would be very soft and gentle with you the whole time. He cares for you so much and handles you as though you could break at any moment. He would lay you down and plant a millions of small, but passionate kisses all over your body softly, taking off your clothing one by one. It would leave you breathless, frozen and barely able to breathe. Singing little words of praise to you over and over until you’re practically begging for him. He would trace every part of your body with his hands, followed along by his lips. When he has made his way inside of you it’s like a fire is lit between you two. The passion that comes from him is amazing. “I love you so much, y/n. Let me show you how much I do”

Sidney Phillips: He’s fun but very sweet with you. Giving you such a sweet and loving smile while he’s practically torturing you with his fingers, tracing his fingers so closely to that sensitive part of you, but not close enough, while also kissing on every inch of your body that he can get his sweet mouth on. He’s so desperate for your touch also, he can’t help the almost pathetic whimpers he makes when you hold his cock in your hands for the first time. And when he finally feels the inside of you it’s almost too much to bear. He’s become pussy-drunk off of you almost instantly. The only instinct being to rut into as good as he can, trying to make you feel amazing. “How much do you want it, my doll. Say you want it as much as I do, please”

Robert Leckie: He really can’t hold himself back from you, even if he wanted to. When he sees you naked on display for him he becomes different (in a good way) almost animalistic when it comes to you. Hunting you down onto the bed and attacking you with his fierce kisses and friendly hands. He intends to leave hickeys all over your precious body. To show everyone who you belong to and love so much. He’s so charming in bed with you. He knows all of the right things to say and to do. When he feels your warmth for the first time he’s at a loss of words, all he can do is moan out sweet nothings to you as he feels you up with his length. Wrecking you with his cock only. “You are amazing sweetheart, just for me, right?”

Lew ‘Chuckler’ Juergens: He’s practically putty in your hands when you tell him that you’d like for him to make love to you. He can’t even began to tell you how many times he’s dreamed of this moment, it’s almost unreal. He’s in shock, amazed and both overwhelmed by your natural beauty. As you take your clothes off for him he can only start to jump to the future, imagining a whole life with you, forever and ever. When you feel his length for the first time his expressions are award-worthy. His moans almost pornagraphic. He finds his way inside of you sooner or later, he finds it hard to hold himself back from fucking your hole sore, and pistoning in and out of you as hard as he can. He starts slow and picks his speed up more and more every minute. “You’re amazing, doll. Just perfect, all for me”

Merriell ‘Snafu’ Shelton: How do I even began to explain the way he would fuck you. He would spend hours rubbing, sucking, licking, and pinching that sensitive spot of yours, over and over again til’ you were a moaning mess. Squeezing and hugging on every part of your body while he begs for you to just cum on his hands, just one more time, then he will make love to you. When he finally does fill you up with his cock, he doesn’t waste time, he’s going at an insane pace, not stopping for nothing in the world and the only thing encouraging him is your loud screams of pleasure. He’s a filthy talker too, saying all sorts of dirty nonsense into your ears while he makes you a mess. “You love it when I fuck you, huh? Such a pretty thing, even prettier on my cock”

John Basilone: He’s quick to undress you from your clothes, and press his face in between the place you need him the most. He will use all of his body to make you feel good. His hands working magic of their own upon your top half, and his mouth on your bottom half, working wonders within you. He doesn’t feel the need to stop until you’re pleading for his cock. And when he finally does decide to show you mercy, he wants to hear you beg for it himself. “c’mon, honey, tell me how bad you need it” when you beg enough to his liking he finds it well enough to shove his cock inside of you, getting a noisy reaction from you in return. He looks amazing while making love to you. The way his biceps look as he’s pinning you down, the small sweat beads falling off of his forehead as he gives you his all. “Let me cum into you, darling. Have all of me please.”

R.V Burgin: He’s a gentleman like he always is. Sweet to you as ever as he finds his way around your body with his hands. He’s kissing you the whole time, never leaving your lips barely once. He enjoys soaking into your love almost too much. He can’t help it, he’s obsessed with your body, and the way you look under him. Yearning for his touch. “Is it alright if I put it in, I promise it won’t hurt” He’s very careful with your body. Holding you as if you were a precious jewel. When he finally starts making love to you it’s unreal, he’s amazing. Just getting to feel your warmth and embrace all of you, is the best thing he could ask for.He’s breathless the whole time, still feeling magical the way you tighten around his cock. “I love you so much, baby. You feel so good around me. Just like that, don’t stop sweetie.”

Wilbur ‘Runner’ Conley: He’s got a sweet smile on his face the whole time you guys are together. How could he not show his excitement for you? He loves you so much and had been waiting for the day to make you his, to fill you with his load, so that only you could be his forever. He makes sure to undress you softly, kissing and holding you like a sweet puppy. “You are an angel, you know that, right?” He’s in awe when he sees you naked. You are absolutely breathtaking. He doesn’t know where to put his eyes, or what he should say other then tell you that you are beautiful over and over again. When he’s inside of you, he’s so passionate and patient for your pleasure first. In his mind, his life’s purpose is to make you completely happy no matter what. It’s his mission to make you finish multiple times.

Bill ‘Hoosier’ Smith: He’s fast with his hands, not restraining himself one bit. He’s tearing off your clothes in an instant. He’s waiting so long for you and he can’t waste any longer for you. His lips are on your chest immediately once your clothes have been stripped from you. Finding his way to your hard nipples and biting them gently. He’s amazing at foreplay, he finds no intent on stopping whatsoever and not even superman could tear him off of you in this moment. When he’s inside of you he turns completely different, primal like, only being able to thrust into you sharply. Holding you up against him as he pushes and pulls himself in and out of you until you’re practically in tears. “I can’t get enough of you, you sweet thing. You feel like heaven”

Again thank you for your request! Sorry for such a delay, i’ve had a hard time writing here recently. If you enjoyed, please like or reblog. Any feedback is appreciated! 🩷

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Paper Rings

This lovely request came from the even more lovely @ronsparky. Jess I hope this is a hat you had in mind. I hope you enjoy it! Pairings: Shifty Powers x f!reader Warnings: implied sexual images

Shifty had always welcomed the sunrise, the golden light streaming through the window bringing forth a new day. He’d always admired how the greens and blues had disappeared into vibrant oranges and yellows. He always felt as though it embraced the sky like long-lost lovers torn apart by the night.

The warm body beside him reminded him of the safety of being home. No longer stuck in a foxhole somewhere, cold and unwanted. He felt safe and loved and as the sunlight trickled through the curtains, casting shadowy glows across her face, Shifty knew he had found his home.

Fingers trailing in feather-like touches across her face made Y/n scrunch up her nose and stir from her dreamless sleep. Shifty smiled down at her, his rosy cheeks and boyish good looks seemed to be highlighted by the early morning sun.

“Good morning Sleeping Beauty,” Shifty’s lips brushed against her own and Y/n couldn’t help the smile that grew on her own face.

“Good morning Handsome.”

“Did you sleep well?” Shifty asked, sitting up on his knees expectantly like a puppy waiting for his master to get up and start their day.

“I did thank you,” Jess yawned, stretching her arms up to wrap around Shifty’s neck and pulling him back down towards her. “I slept very well.”

Shifty grinned from ear to ear, his hands once again finding their home on her hips, rubbing gently at the bruises that had formed overnight.

“I’m sorry. Was I too rough?” Shifty fretted as his eyes followed the purple marks adorning her curves.

“No, Darrell, please. It’s okay I’m not that fragile,” she laughed, stroking his face fondly. “You were perfect.”

Shifty felt the heat growing on his cheeks and he tried to bury his face in his wife’s chest but the cool metal against his skin stopped him.

Y/n hand ran down his chest, her cool wedding ring caused Shifty to shiver, picking up his wife’s hand to admire the jewellery.

“I can’t believe you’re actually mine.”

Y/n blushed under her husband's gaze, “And I cannot believe you are mine.”

Shifty smiled, placing his lips on the palm of her hand. “You know, I loved the ceremony and I’m glad all our friends and family were there but I’d have married you even if it was just the two of us in threadbare clothes, in a field, with paper rings,” he admitted, kissing her forehead once more. “Because I don’t care where I am as long as you are with me.”

Y/n chuckled, unable to comprehend how soft her husband was, “You are such a softie.”

“But I’m your softie,” Shifty replied, grabbing onto his wife’s hand and pulling her into his lap, his lips brushing against the soft skin of her throat, his teeth grazing it slightly causing Y/n to gasp. Shifty’s hands found their way to her hips, pulling her even closer and groaning when her thigh brushed against his lap.

“You're going to be the death of me, my Love,” Shifty moved her so she sat sideways, lead in his arms.

“Now don’t go dying on me now, Powers. I’ve only just tied you down,” Y/n jested, smoothing down the ruffled hair on his head.

“There’s no fear of that,” Shifty chuckled, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Tags: @georgieluz @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @lieutenant-speirs @sharpshootershifty @liberteuniteegalite @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @merriell-allesandro-shelton @sweetxvanixlla @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @mutantmanifesto @malarkgirlypop @panzershrike-pretz

[jump-wings]

HBOWarDaily's Short Story Exchange 2023

Show: The Pacific

Ship: Eugene Sledge x Snafu Merriell Shelton

General Reader

For @ahsokatanoss I hope you like it!

An Evening

They crossed the corridor, Eugene in front, Merriell behind. When they reached the door, Eugene moved aside and allowed Merriell to enter his room first. He closed the door behind them. The door made no more noise than the beating of Merriell's heart. Eugene leaned back against the door, hands in his pockets. He was watching Meriell with his eyes. Merriell walked around the room a bit. He picked up a few items on the shelf and looked at them, but he neither saw what he picked up nor was he interested in the decor of the room, just a few pathetic attempts to postpone the inevitable conversation. But somehow someone had to say something, and he knew it had to be him.

''You have a nice room, Sledgehammer.'' His voice came out lower, higher-pitched, and more strained than what he had planned to say in his head. The words almost reached his lips like tiny daggers, creating wounds in his throat. Eugene caught Merriell's eyes on his own and wouldn't let go. He said thank you and waited. He would push Meriell to the end. Merriell looked away. He waited for a few seconds in the middle of the room, looking helplessly at the carpet.

''The food was very nice.'' Again a thank you came from Eugene and he waited again. His eyes are fixed on Merriell. Merriell waited too, the bitter water rising from his stomach to his throat. He finally made up his mind, he could postpone while he ate and chatted with Eugene's family, he could postpone while Eugene's father showed him their land, he could postpone while he listened to his brother reminisce about the war in Europe, but here he was in Eugene's room in Alabama, the two of them alone and he found himself in a kind of trial in Eugene's eyes. He couldn't put it off any longer, feeling like prisoner b5rought tıo court. He had nowhere to run and no excuse to escape. He lifted his eyes from the carpet and stared into the big brown eyes watching him.

''Eugene, I…''

''Why did you come?'' Eugene's voice was angry.

''To see you.'' He looked away, his voice a whisper.

Why? Why did you come to see the man you've seen too much to even say goodbye to? Suddenly, months later?

The anger in Eugene's voice grew with each word, but the anger in his voice couldn't hide the underlying pain. Eugene's pain reached Merriell. Snafu's heart ached again, with pain at the same frequency as Eugene's, a pain that had not stopped since the moment he got off the train.

Eugene rose from where he was leaning and stood upright. He clenched his hands into fists and pressed his nails into his palms.

Ever since they returned - one to Alabama, the other to Louisiana - from the endless forests of the Pacific, its hills, its rains, its muddy soil, and its endless islands that had turned into graveyards Merriell, who had always been overconfident, had been struggling with indecision. Eugene, who had a calm nature since his early youth, was angry. Everything they knew about life was rewritten in the Pacific.

He just couldn't return. He couldn't turn around and couldn't even say goodbye. He couldn't shake his hand and look into his eyes for the last time. He wanted to, but he was undecided and could not do it. His heart couldn't stand it. This was too much. He was asked to realize a reality that had never been more real until the train entered the station. Suddenly, he is asked to leave behind the last years of his life, the person was created from him in the war, the skills he was taught to fight, the brutality, the death, the blood, and the only person he has ever learned to trust and love - Eugene - and return to a life like nothing ever happened, many times he doubted its existence when he was in the muds of Okinawa. Which one was the dream? Louisiana or Okinawa? Which one was the reality?

If he had turned back and said goodbye to Eugene as he got off the train in Louisiana, he would have lost everything. He would lose those times, the times their existence was disgusting but still too valuable to lose, but most importantly, he would lose Eugene forever, his memory.

He was undecided until the last moment. While choosing what to wear - casual clothes, a suit, or even he thought about his marine uniform uniform -, while he was taking his best suit to his sister because he couldn't iron it himself, while taking leave from work, while buying the ticket for the train to Alabama, while waiting for the train to arrive at the station, while getting on the train, while sitting in his seat, while finding Eugene's house, while walking down the road to Eugene's house, while knocking on the door of Eugene's house, and yet he had come this far. Now he was standing in the middle of Eugene's room, looking into his eyes contains anger and pain.

When Eugene got off the train months ago, he didn't think anything, he didn't feel anything. In the months that followed, anger came to visit him. Why didn't he shake him by the shoulder and wake him up? Why hadn't he just woken him and said a goodbye? All this time, they had lived as if they had never met, they have never knew each other? After everything they've been through together in this world, who could understand them better than each other?Why didn't he even wake him up and say goodbye, didn't he even love him that much?

I wish I were like the men who wrote those thick books he saw in Eugene's hands, Merriell thought. Maybe I could explain it then. Snafu had made up his mind. In one breath, he said all the words that suddenly appeared in his mind.

''I couldn't say anything to you that day because I, because you… I can't say goodbye to you. I can't say goodbye to you because if I did, you would leave and I didn't want you to go. I didn't want anything to go away we lived together. I didn't know how to do it.''

Eugene listend him. Now he had figured out how to calm down. He smiled faintly, gently. He looked into the emerald green eyes of the man he loved. His eyes wandered over the dark curly hair falling on his forehead. Almost he had never seen him so helpless before.

''If you had woken me up, we would have found a way together. Don't run away from me, Snafu.''

''Never again. I am not going anywhere.''

[laminy]

Thank you for the tag @merriell-allesandro-shelton!!

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

How many works do you have on ao3?

Apparently 74! I'm not sure how that's possible but okay! Not what I was expecting. That's like twice as many as I thought.

What's your total ao3 word count?

2,178,053

What fandoms do you write for?

The works that I have posted on AO3 are for Bohemian Rhapsody Actor RPF, BoRhap/Queen, Ted Lasso, 13 Reasons Why, Teen Wolf, 6 Underground, Midsomer Murders, and Shazam. Pre-AO3, I wrote in a lot of other ones. Hypothetically, I write for Gran Turismo, but I've never finished any of those fics lol.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. I'm breathing in the chemicals (Teen Wolf) 2. and you know you don't have to go (Ted Lasso) 3. Fear and Self-Loathing in Beacon Hill (Teen Wolf) 4. you're the sunflower (Ted Lasso) 5. into the blue and sunny morn' (BoRhap Actor RPF)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, absolutely! I appreciate when people comment and I like the interaction.

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I try not to have angsty endings! All my angst is sprinkled throughout the story (maybe more than sprinkled lol) and then they get a happy ending.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Since most of my fics have happy endings, I don't know what the happiest of the happy endings would be. Probably a fic in the ITBASM-universe, because I tried to make them all very happy (they deserved it).

Do you get hate on fics?

I did get a couple hateful anons on here in my day but they didn't stick around. Thankfully I've avoided much of that (knock on wood).

Do you write smut?

I do, I do. All M/M, though for my original NaNo story I'm apparently going to be attempting M/F and idk how that's gonna go lol.

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I've written two 6 Underground x Midsomer Murders crossovers because Ben and Gwil.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of! I hope not.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I'm also not sure I'm aware of any.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have not! I'll be honest that I really don't know how it works and I'm kind of a solitary creature in that regard. so, I don't know that it would be my vibe.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Everrrrrr? Oh my gosh I don't know if I could pick. According to my AO3 bookmarks, apparently it's Joe/Nicky from The Old Guard but I don't think so (and for the most part I avoid that fandom these days). I don't know, ever???? I still can't decide. I'm too finicky. I will say that a ship that I will always love and I go forever without reading and then I'll be in that mood again is Eggsy/Harry from Kingsman. Like, they're the old stalwart.

What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Probably those Gran Turismo fics I mentioned above.

What are your writing strengths?

I would say dialogue but I don't know if anyone would agree. I find it the most fun, so I enjoy it.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I don't know how to describe what people look like, because 99.9 of stuff I write is fanfic and readers already know what those characters look like, so that whenever I attempt anything original, I don't know how to naturally include some idea of "this person has brown eyes and is very tall." I see it done so badly sometimes and I just try to avoid that.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I have done it before sparingly. Different languages, I know fics I've done have included French, Spanish, Dutch, German, and Arabic. For most of them, I use Google Translate. for the Arabic, I watched YouTube and tried non-Google Translate sources. for the French, some of it I knew myself and wrote it as I know it (I am not fluent in French). I would never write an entire fic in another language but I think including other languages is fun and rounds out the characters.

First fandom you wrote for?

Probably shockingly, it was Friends. A friend and I wrote it together in the fifth grade. Handwrote it, actually. We had a notebook that we passed back and forth.

Favorite fic you've written?

Overall, every ITBASM fic because it's like, my universe, my world, my characters, and it covered so much time (and space, ha). I don't know that I could pick an individual fic.

[deputy-buck]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks @acorrespondence for the tag!💚

How many works do you have on ao3?

11 currently, soon to be 13 if I can just buckle down and write the two requests in my askbox-

7 - Generation Kill 3 - Justified 1 - Band of Brothers

What's your total ao3 word count?

5,952 I'm not a LongFic writer by any means-

What fandoms do you write for?

Published: Justified, Band of Brother, Generation Kill

Not published: The Pacific, Game of Thrones, UFC ahem...

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Docile Alpha (36) Silver Wrapped (30) MOLLE Pouch of Memories (20) Sold For Temporary Use (6) Good Coffee and Good Mornings (6) Gracious (5)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! Every time that I can provide a response of substance, but if I really can't come up with a response, I appreciate it silently and mark it as read.

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I hate writing angst so I simply don't have anything angsty :) Maybe MOLLE Pouch of Memories counts as angst but it's really not.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Either Sunshine or Good Coffee and Good Mornings both are cute as could be to me.

Do you get hate on fics?

NO and idk how people get hate comments??? On fic??? grow the fuck up and just click away, nobody wants to hear your complaining about FICTION.

Do you write smut?

Yes, it's my favorite to write and read, but it's hard for me to get the feelings down into words, so I'm very slow in writing it. (sorry to the two amazing prompts in my Ask Box, I promise I'm writing for them both, just... slowly.)

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

No and I don't enjoy crossover fics, so I filter them out/don't click on them if they make it through the filter. (hate commenters take note of how I handled media I don't enjoy)

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, I haven't been writing long enough nor will I ever be popular enough.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Also no for the same reason above.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Sort of. Back way back I was bouncing ideas off of other people in the Ghost (band) fandom and one got posted, I think it's still up on Ao3, something about Rain/Dew fucking where the rest of the Ghouls could watch, posted 2019.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

God I wish I could say but I would get shit for it so here's each fandom. Gen Kill: Brad/Trombley OR Brad/Poke BoB: Speirs/Liebgott The Pacific: Eugene/Sidney Justified: Boyd/Raylan/Tim (second fav) GoT: The Hound/Gendry/Tormund UFC: Islam/Charles

What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I can never publish it so it sort of gets put on the back burner but the title is "Holy Mother, Let me Taste Him" which is two characters that have been together for Years having a discussion about Character B wanting to get with someone new, Character A is a little hesitant for specific reasons revealed by Character B (otherwise Character A would be fully on board) and it gets a little sad and immoral but it's based in love, respect, and loyalty. I might figure out a way to change some names and pronouns and ranks, maybe I can post it some way.

What are your writing strengths?

Daydreaming- Okay, I really don't know, I think that's something you're told about by readers. Dialogue comes easy to me but I'm not sure if it's good.

What are your writing weaknesses?

The act of writing- Probably setting, trying to cohesively write what the atmosphere is like and keep it relevant to the rest of the story is very hard for me.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I've done it for a couple characters but I don't like it because I don't trust any translator apps to do a language justice.

First fandom you wrote for?

Fuck, probably Supernatural (🤢 I know)

Favorite fic you've written?

Marines on Watch or Docile Alpha

Sorry if I missed you imagine your @ in the following list: @merriell-allesandro-shelton @caffeinated-fan @ableedingpen idk anyone else but I'm not kidding, if you see this and want to do it, I'm tagging you!!! I am!! You've been tagged!!

[anothers-trash-my-treasure]

15 & 26 from the 3rd prompt list for Merriell? Honestly the thought of getting fingerfucked on his lap makes me go feral

asdfhk same anon, same.

Smut ahead yall.

~

Sometimes you wondered how you got so lucky with a man like Merriell. Every other man you had been with before him only ever cared about their own needs. Sure they’d go down on you and get you where you need to be, but it was never the way Merriell did. 

When Merriell set his mind on pleasuring you in a certain way, he stuck it out until the end and didn’t stop until you were shaking. And god was it amazing. 

You knew you were in for it when you got home from work and he was already sitting in his chair, still fully dressed and a glass of whiskey in hand. His eyes glimmered when you met them. He lifted his hand beckoning you over with quick movements of his fingers. 

Without a word you dropped your bag on the floor and made your way over to him, carefully placing your hands on his shoulders for balance while you straddled him.

He didn’t say anything, not yet. Instead, he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head down into a sensual kiss.

“How was work, baby?” he asks. 

“Fine,” you respond, already a little out of breath, “You got something planned?”

He chuckles deeply, the way he always does when he’s been thinking about you, and the sound sends a wave of heat between your legs.

“Could say that,” he muses, letting his fingers slide just barely under your skirt, giving you an idea of what he wants, “Been thinkin’ ‘bout ya.”

You hum, letting your hands start to roam up and down his chest, to the back of his neck and into his curls, “Anything in particular?” 

“Impatient, are we?” he teases, squeezing your thigh just enough to pull a soft whine from you, “Jus’ let me show ya.”

He brings his middle and ring finger up to your mouth, “Suck on my fingers, get them nice n’ wet for me.”

You comply, immediately taking them into your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around them. You make sure to keep eye contact with him while you do so, knowing that it drives him crazy. He watches with heavy eyes as you pull off his fingers, a string of saliva following your movements before it breaks. 

“Good girl,” he comments, “But were you really good? Did ya do what I asked you to this morning?” As he talks he brings his slick fingers under your skirt and in between your thighs, smiling widely when he meets your bare pussy, “Ohh, such a good girl.”

Your breath hitches as he presses his fingers inside of you, feeling them slide past the initial restraint before sinking the rest of the way in. His fingers curl, rubbing against your g-spot and his eyes light up as you gasp at the feeling. 

“Mmm, that’s it baby.” he coos, beginning to slide them in and out at a steady pace, always curling them to watch the pleasure spread over your features, “You love the feeling of that huh?” 

You go to answer, but your breath is stolen by a particularly rough thrust of his fingers to your g-spot, he keeps them there, grinding and unrelenting as your back arches and you moan his name.

When he pulls back he slides in his pointer finger with them, his grin spreading wider as your eyes roll back at the additional stretch. 

“God,” he sighs, sucking a mark into your neck just to hear you whine at the feeling, “You take my fingers so well, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasp, grinding down onto them, “Merriell, please fuck me.”

He hums thoughtfully before shaking his head, “Nah,” his thumbs coming to rub circles on your clit, “I think I’ll have some fun like this for now.”

~

Would it even be a smut prompt if I didn’t leave you begging for more 😘

[ruewrote]

ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡.

PAIRING: merriell 'snafu' shelton x fem!reader WARNINGS: reunion, no use of y/n GENRE: fluff SONG INSPIRATION: love you like that by dagny WORD COUNT: 1.7k

navigation | ask | merriell shelton masterlist

you’ve set the table perfectly, each plate and glass precisely aligned. the silverware shines, reflecting the warm glow of the candles you lit on a whim. the house is spotless, the floors swept and mopped, every corner dusted, every item placed just so. 

the air is filled with the rich aroma of your cooking. roasted vegetables, gravy simmering on the stove, and his favourite dish in the oven, almost ready. it’s the kind of meal he always loved, simple but hearty, something that tastes like home.

you glance around the room, surveying every detail one last time. this homecoming has been a long time coming, each moment leading up to it feels heavy with anticipation. you want it to be perfect for him, for merriell.

it feels strange calling him that in your head after all this time. he's ‘shelton’ in your letters, the same as he was before he left. but today, finally, he’s coming back to you as your merriell.

you want everything to be just right.

you’ve been waiting for this moment ever since you heard the news. about his return, the end of a stretch of weeks that seemed to last forever. all the quiet nights spent hoping and praying, every letter read and reread until the paper was worn thin, all leading up to this moment. and now, all that’s left to do is wait.

you try to busy yourself with little things, straightening the flowers you placed in the vase by the table, adjusting the curtains, double checking the kitchen. anything to keep your hands from fidgeting and your mind from racing. but every creak of the house, every passing car, sends your heart leaping, wondering if it’s finally him. 

you try to steady your breath, but you can already feel your pulse racing. he’s so close now, just a street or two away, a few minutes more, and you’ll finally be able to see him.

then, through the window, you catch sight of a familiar figure, and your heart skips a beat. it’s him. you can barely make out his face in the fading light outside, but you’d know that stance anywhere. his shoulders, broader than you remember, his stride, a little slower but unmistakable. your love, coming back to you at last.

without thinking, you rush to the door, flinging it open as he steps onto the porch. he’s still in uniform, the faintest dust of travel clinging to him, and there’s a tiredness in his eyes that makes your chest ache. but when he sees you, his face lights up in a way that chases away every worry, every fear that once lingered in your heart. 

in that instant, every moment of waiting fades away, leaving only him.

you don’t even realise you’re moving until your feet are already carrying you across the threshold, out into the cool evening air. the sound of his voice calling your name barely registers as you break into a run. before you know it, you’re in his arms, everything else falls away.

he catches you with a soft “oof” as you leap up, his arms wrapping around you and holding you steady, grounding you. you cling to him as if afraid he might vanish, your arms tight around his neck, your hands buried in his hair. without a word, you press your lips to his, a kiss that’s both fierce and tender, all your relief and love pouring into this one moment.

he kisses you back with a hunger that matches your own, his hands gripping you firmly as if he’s been waiting for this just as long. you can feel his fingers curl gently at the base of your neck, grounding you, his lips soft but insistent, saying everything you’ve both been aching to say without words. 

for a moment, it’s as though nothing has changed, as though the war and the months apart never happened, and it’s just the two of you here, together, like before.

when you finally break the kiss, you rest your forehead against his, your breath mingling, eyes locked in a gaze that holds every unspoken word between you. “i’m home,” he says, his voice rough with emotion, his eyes soft and full of a tenderness that makes your heart swell. “i’m really home.”

you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you gently cup his cheek, your thumb brushing along the rough line of stubble. “welcome home, handsome,” you whisper, barely able to keep your voice steady.

his eyes flicker over you, as if drinking in every detail. he reaches up to run a thumb along your cheekbone, his touch warm and familiar. 

he’s here, in front of you, solid and real, and the weight of it nearly takes your breath away.

he glances past you, taking in the room, the candles on the table, the food you spent all afternoon preparing. his lips curve into a small, almost bashful smile as he takes it all in, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “did you do all this? for me?”

a soft laugh escapes you, the sound filled with nothing but love. “for you? i’d do anything.”

he chuckles, pulling you close again, his arms wrapping around you as if he can’t bear to let you go. he dips his head, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, then another to your forehead, his lips lingering there as he inhales, like he’s committing your scent to memory. 

you close your eyes, sinking into the moment, letting yourself be surrounded by him, by the very comfort you’ve missed so desperately.

“come inside,” you murmur, tugging gently on his hand as you lead him toward the table. he follows, and for the first time since he left. everything feels normal again, like home. you sit down across from each other, sharing a smile as you begin the meal, laughter and conversation flowing easily between bites. 

he tells you stories of his friends, memories he’s gathered, moments that shaped him, and you listen, hanging onto every word, feeling closer to him with each one.

after the meal, you clean the dishes together, your hands brushing in the soapy water, each touch sending a thrill through you. the simplicity of it, the ordinary tasks you once took for granted, feels sacred now. you savour every moment, every gentle touch, every quiet laugh.

the last of the dishes are set to dry, and you wipe your hands on a towel, turning to look at him. he’s watching you with a smile, something subtle now, less of the bright, laughing grin from dinner, more like a gentle curve of his lips. he looks at you in a certain way. it’s the kind of look that makes your breath hitch in your throat.

“come on,” you whisper, your voice hushed. “let’s go to bed.”

he doesn’t need any convincing. he follows you willingly, his fingers still entwined with yours as you lead him upstairs, each step creaking softly under your combined weight. it’s familiar, the way you move through the space together, it strikes you just how much you missed this. the quiet, domestic moments, the easy comfort of sharing a home with the person you love.

in your room, the light from the lamp casts a warm, golden glow over everything, bathing the walls in a soft, flickering light. you can feel the tiredness settle into your bones now, but it’s a good kind of tired, one that comes from the relief of having him here, safe and sound.

you turn to face him, your hands coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. he leans down, brushing a kiss against your temple, you shiver slightly at the feeling of his lips on your skin, his beard tickling you in a way that’s both familiar and new all at once.

you slip out of your clothes and into something more comfortable, watching as he does the same. there’s a moment where he pauses, standing at the edge of the bed, just looking at you.

“hey,” you murmur, reaching out to tug him closer. “stop staring and get in here.”

he laughs quietly, the sound of a low rumble in his chest, before he climbs in beside you. you both settle into the bed, as soon as you’re under the covers, he’s pulling you in close, his arms wrapping around you in a way that’s almost desperate, like he can’t bear to let you go, even for a second.

you curl into him, your head resting on his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat a soothing sound. his thumb begins to trace gentle circles over your shoulder, a repetitive, comforting motion that makes you sigh in contentment. your legs tangled together, a mess of limbs under the covers, but neither of you mind. it’s how it always was, how it always felt right.

you close your eyes, letting the sound of his heartbeat and the gentle rhythm of his breathing lull you into a peaceful haze. you press a soft kiss to the bare skin of his chest, just over his heart, feeling the warmth of his skin against your lips.

he dips his head to press a kiss to the top of yours, his breath stirring your hair as he murmurs, “i missed this. missed you.”

you nuzzle closer, your hand splaying over his chest. “i missed you too,” you whisper back. “so much.”

there’s a long, quiet pause, filled only with the sounds of the night outside, the distant chirp of crickets and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. his thumb keeps stroking your shoulder, you feel him press another kiss to your forehead, gentle this time, lingering.

“i’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, his voice rough but sure. “i’m here. i’m home.”

you smile against his skin, feeling a wave of peace wash over you, the last of the tension you didn’t even realise you were holding onto finally melting away. you breathe in the scent of him, something warm and familiar and entirely merriell, you let it fill your lungs, your heart, your whole being.

“home,” you repeat, your voice barely more than a breath.

you let your eyes drift shut, lulled by the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heart, and the comforting darkness of the room. you feel his arms tighten around you, holding you even closer.

you fall asleep like that, wrapped in each other, knowing that you have all the time in the world now. 

knowing that everything is exactly as it should be.

[poptod]

Betwixt (Merriel Shelton x Reader)

Description: You’re his sister’s best friend during your shared high school years. He’s... strange. You hardly understand him. But he seems to like you.

Notes: what the fuck is wrong with me anyway hope yall enjoy hahahahaiamfilthyahaha gender neutral, kinda suggestive WC: 7.8k

+

Merriel wasn't really your friend, but you were the only one that was nice to him. That was by no fault of your own; he was just a weird kid, and the other students didn't like that. Almost every time you saw him, he had some sort of injury like a black eye, bruises, or scrapes. One time he had a broken wrist.

Yet, somehow, he always grinned at you. It was a specific, charming smile that went with a sugar-sweet swagger, sparking up every time he caught sight of you, at which point his eyes would never leave you. To be honest, you didn't really like it––his eyes looked haunted, far too haunted for a 17-year old, and you had no idea why he looked at you like that. He looked at you like he wanted to eat you.

But he was nice. Nice enough. A little handsy, with a very weak understanding of boundaries, but always ready to defend his family's honor. That streak in him came out especially whenever his little sister, who was your age, ended up in any trouble, or whenever someone tried to insult you. It didn't take much to rile him up.

For the most part, you interacted with him during lunch at school, and whenever you decided to spend time with Madeline, his sister. She was the one you were actually friends with, she was the one with a sweet, blushing smile that could ignite a fire within your own cheeks. Her dark hair fell in curls around a freckled face, blue eyes shining against tanned skin. She was the one that held her manners properly in front of your own parents. She was the one you'd shared almost all your classes with since the fourth grade.

She was also the one you offered your home to.

Three months into junior year, her hair began to grow more and more frizzy each time she came to school during the day. Dark circles formed beneath her eyes. Merriel, who you saw only in cursory moments during this time, also looked worse for wear––he wouldn't change his clothes for days or weeks at a time, and he was even more disorganized than normal.

You bit on the end of your thumb––not the nail, your mother said to never do that––as you stared at Madeline from across the lunch table. She hadn't brought her own lunch for four days now, and she never had the money to pay for a school lunch. You supplied her with half your sandwich every day.

"I know it's a little rude of me to ask," you started quietly. Her eyes shot up to you from her fiddling hands. "... but is everything alright at home? Did your mom get fired?"

Her posture straightened as her shoulders tensed.

"I... well, yes, kinda," she mumbled. "She had t' quit 'cause of her manager, so we, um, couldn't really... pay for the apartment.."

"You what?"

"It – it's not a big –"

"Where are you living?" You asked in an almost harsh whisper, leaning in deeply to her in order to avoid any vagrant listeners.

"The van," she said, and her face was almost a beet red. "It's pretty big."

"Madeline –"

Movement caught your eye, paired with a gruff voice, that ripped you out of your line of thought.

"The fuck you doin', ya little rat?"

Merriel stumbled backwards at the large hands of William––or Bill, as everyone was now calling him. His parents called him Billy. Despite the loving little nickname, Billy was a bitch.

This time, Merriel had nothing to say. His eyes were steeled on the much taller boy, lips sealed shut in a pretty pout, and his hands curled into fists that lay idle at his sides.

You frowned.

Merriel always had something to say.

Madeline seemed to be confused as well going by the look she shot you, to which you responded with a shrug before you both looked back to the situation.

"Why don't ya keep yer' hands t' yaself?" Billy asked, grasping Merriel's shirt collar and shaking him roughly.

"Like you need all that food," Merriel finally spat as he attempted to shove his meaty fists away. "Yer' already fat enough for the pig pen."

A chorus of 'ohhh's' in various levels of insult rang from the lunchroom-turned-audience.

You knew exactly where those words would land him with and so did he. When Billy sent a fist screaming down on Merriel's nose, Merriel ducked, though not fast enough to miss a second blow to the gut from Billy's other fist.

The curly-haired boy fell to the ground clutching his stomach.

You and Madeline jumped instantly to your feet, the table and chair legs screeching beneath you from the sudden movement. Several people nearby looked at you, but no one bothered to say anything or stop you as the two of you rushed over to Merriel, Madeline kneeling at his side while you stood facing Billy. Your arms were crossed over your chest as he leered above you. Neither you, Madeline, or Merriel would ever match up to his height.

"You hang with the wrong people, baby," he said, grinning down at you.

"I'm good with where I am," you said. "I'd rather sit with people I can stand t' look at."

He fumed, his face turning a bitter red. Your own eyes widened and you turned, rushing Merriel and Madeline to their feet before corralling all three of you out of the lunch room. 'Get out, get out, get out,' you whispered repeatedly as you pushed them out the door. Whoops, cheers, and jeering followed you.

You didn't stop running till you reached the school's entrance, where large doors were locked tightly closed. Only windows illuminated the hallway––all the other lights had gone out months or years ago. Floating dust lingered in the sun rays as you all panted.

The three of you fell to the ground, the two sunspots shared between you.

"Ya know you can't do that," Madeline whispered to her brother, whose eyes flickered to the ground in shame, unable to meet her gaze. "We can get something later."

"That's fuckin' easy for you to say when ya got fuckin' (Y/N) here feedin' ya every day," he growled, looking up to her over a heavy brow.

"Are you guys not eating every day?" You interrupted, pulling both their attentions over to you.

Two pairs of wide, grey eyes confronted you, freezing you in your spot.

"It ain't yo' problem," Merriel said in a grumble.

"All due respect, this is absolutely my problem," you said.

"He doesn't need due respect," said Madeline with a laugh.

Merriel shot her a scowl.

"Madeline..." you sighed, chiding her softly. "You guys are living outta your mom's car and not eating??"

Neither could respond, and instead were reluctant to meet your eye. You sighed again.

"Come to my place after school," you said, rubbing your face. "We've got too many leftovers."

They ate fast, but they didn't eat much. A small little hypothesis formed in your head to explain that; their stomachs, unused to full meals, had shrunken over time and now could contain less and less. Still, Merriel managed to scarf down far more than his sister.

"Thank goodness you have friends, honey," your mother said from across the room as she dusted the piano. You turned to face her, your arms still crossed. "We have far too much food in the fridge."

She laughed a certain sweet, almost saccharine laugh that had a habit of freaking your friends out.

"Uh - can I talk to you for a moment?" You asked, your gaze darting between your friends and your mother.

She nodded brightly, padding over into the nearby guest room. You followed after and shut the door behind you.

It was then you explained the situation; how they rarely got the chance to eat, how they were evicted, and how their father disappeared. Your mother was a reasonable woman but somewhat conservative, meaning you had to stoop to a lower level and beg her to let your friends stay in your almost vacant house. Your room alone had your bed, your desk, a bathroom, a couch, and a whole different television from the one in the living room.

Your parents had also taken in foster children before. One time, they let a cross-country bicyclist stay in a tent in their back yard for a night instead of sleeping on a nearby bench. You played off those decisions and bargained with her.

"I don't know, honey," she said in a soft, concerned voice, picking at the loose skin on her chin.

"Why not??" You whined.

"Your father wouldn't like the idea, I know that. We talked about it before, with that Avery girl," she said.

You groaned loudly.

"Avery was a totally different person!"

"Father's coworker, he let his daughter's friend stay at his house, and she falsely accused him of rape. Now he can't go anywhere without it popping up and he's going to court."

"That's probably because father's coworker probably raped her!"

"Shh!" She hissed, motioning a zip of her lips quick and curt. "We have guests over."

"Mom, you know Madeline. She'd never do anything like that."

"... I'll ask your father," she said quietly. "But don't expect anything."

"Thanks," you said. Almost sarcastically, but you bit your tongue and left the room before you could.

Two days later, Madeline and Merriel were reentering your home with their mother, their van parked out front and bags in their hands. Your mother held the door open for them while you grinned, welcoming them to a solid roof above their heads.

"Mrs. Shelton, we have a guest room for you," your mother said as she closed the door behind them. "This way."

They left, leaving you alone with your friends.

"You'll be staying in my room with me," you said, looking at Madeline, "and I think Merriel's staying on the couch.

"The couch??" He repeated.

"Madeline's sleeping on a couch, too, Mer," you said with a sigh.

"Oh." He shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Fine."

Madeline jabbed him in the stomach with her elbow. He winced lightly.

"Thank you," he grumbled out as he shambled over to the living room couch.

"Come on," you said, grinning as you took Madeline's hand. "I actually cleaned my room for you."

She ran up the stairs behind you, giggling.

"I already seen your room dirty as all hell," she said.

Living with your best friend had... challenges. You were almost never alone. Getting your rocks off in your bed in the middle of the night was no longer an option. Sometimes in the shower you could touch yourself, but showers never lasted that long, and most of the time Madeline was waiting her turn to use your shower. Other than that tidbit of sexual frustration and personal space, living with Madeline was a dream.

Living with Merriel, however, was a challenge. Fortunately enough for you, your father was usually busy working his office job, and your mother was usually off taking housecalls for teaching piano. That left you home alone with Merriel and Madeline most of the time while their mother looked for jobs during the day. This was a good turn of events because Merriel, as you came to find, didn't really like clothes. Your first experience with it caught you early in the morning.

"What?" He asked when you shyed immediately away, slapping your hand over your eyes. "Don't got a room, where d'ya expect me to change?"

"First off, the bathroom???" You said shakily, still covering your eyes. "Second off you're not even changing. You're just watching the TV."

"What are you fellas – oh for fuck's sake, Merriel," Madeline said as she came down the stairs, rounding the corner to see Merriel's bare shoulders over the back of the couch. "Are you naked again?"

"Not my fault I ain't got a room!!" He yelled, not bothering to face her.

"My mom's gonna be pissed if she sees this," you murmured to Madeline, who nodded in agreement.

"Mer, you're going to piss off (Y/N)'s mom if she comes home early," Madeline called over expectantly.

"Their ma left an hour ago, those lessons a' hers take at least an hour and a half," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "An' it takes a bit to drive there."

"Do it for my sake?" You asked, a hint of hopefulness in your voice.

He finally turned, casting a glance over his shoulder to meet your eye. He scanned you up and down, including your nervous smile, and your fidgeting fingers. Upon noting those things, he smirked.

"I don't got any clean clothes," he said, and turned back to the TV.

You threw your hands up in the air, turning to Madeline as they slapped back down on your thighs. She shrugged, looking between you and Merriel before a light sparked in her eyes.

"Merriel, will you come with us?" She asked slyly.

He looked back over, unimpressed.

"Where we goin'?"

"Just up to (Y/N)'s room," she said, pointing her thumb to you. You raised a single brow questioningly.

He seemed to pause and think her offer over before he accepted, shutting of the television and standing to bare his whole body to both of you. You'd already seen it earlier that morning, but Madeline still groaned, despite the fact you knew he'd done this before in their old apartment.

Both of you shook your heads and groaned disapprovingly, turning round as he laughed and followed you back up the stairs. You pulled him into your (now) shared room, and as you closed the door, Madeline set to her plan. You had no idea what she was doing, but soon realized she was going to clothe her brother in her own clothes. If he truly didn't have any clothes clean, then he could wear her skirt, and you could finally stop having to see him entirely nude.

"The hell's this?" He asked when Madeline tossed him a short, pink satin skirt.

"A skirt, dumbass," Madeline said. Merriel stuck his tongue out at her.

"I don't want to have t' look at your tiny dick for the next five hours. Put the fucking skirt on," you said, crossing your arms.

He shifted his weight uncomfortably again, a habit of his you'd noticed happening more and more often.

"I – I wouldn't look good in a –"

"Never know till ya try," Madeline said with a wicked grin.

You smiled instinctively upon seeing that grin of hers, your chest warming with the familiarity of her little tricks and pranks.

Merriel's eyes flickered between the two of you––your arms both crosses––till enough bitterness grew on his brow that he spat out, "fine."

He pulled it up his calves forcefully, and you closed your eyes, not needing to see anything else beyond that. Nope. Not at all. It certainly didn't help that he stared pointedly at you the entire time.

You opened your eyes with much care, your muscles stiffened with apprehension. But when the sight finally filled your eyesight, you could only stare, unable to tear yourself from the image. It was... strange. Definitely strange. Certainly not attractive. Certainly.

The satin came down to his mid-thigh, flaring out with the pleated design built into it. The waist, somehow, was cinched perfectly around his lean frame. His hands were curled against his hips.

"Well?" He asked.

Madeline burst out laughing beside you. You'd been so caught up with Merriel that you didn't bother to check Madeline's expression, leaving you still dumbstruck as she threw her head back, howling with laughter.

"It works," you said with an exasperated shrug.

Madeline never got the skirt back. You didn't think she'd want it back, anyway, considering her brother's dick had been all up in it. You shivered uncomfortably at the thought.

After that incident, Merriel tended to wear more clothes around the house, if only to stop another 'incident' from happening, instead of just wearing clothes in case your mother came home abruptly. After that incident, Merriel also knew something about you––something he didn't know before. Something even you didn't know. Something that apparently made it alright to tease you incessantly, at any chance he got, despite the fact that you always tried to be nice to him in the past. Maybe it was the small quarters getting to him. Maybe it was something you'd done that day.

Most of his teasing came in the form of boundary pushing. Getting too close, brushing against the lesser-touched areas of yourself, or entering the bathroom while you were showering. In one such incident, you didn't even notice the door opening.

The sink turned on, but you barely heard it over the pulsing shower falling over the top of your head and dripping into your ears. What you did hear a moment later was someone brushing their teeth, which wasn't suspicious, as you still did share your bathroom with Madeline. It was when the door didn't open and close again that you realized something was different.

"Is that you, Madeline?" You asked, running your hands over your hair.

"Jus' the man of yo' dreams, baby," came Merriel's voice, and you could see that swaggering smile of his with your eyes closed.

"Get the hell out of here Merriel."

"I dunno, I'm kinda enjoying the view –"

A wet thwap sounded when your large, yellow sponge hit his face, soaking his hair and shirt.

"Yes sir," he said. You laughed as he left.

Yet that wasn't the worst of it.

The worst of it, beyond a doubt, was the fact that he would touch you in passing, igniting something very warm and very inappropriate in your stomach. These touches would linger with you in the dead of night, squirming in your sheets and unable to touch yourself. He'd pass you in the small kitchen and the palm of his hand would brush over your ass, long fingers dipping down to just barely touch you where you'd need him, giving you an attention you'd never earned before. Certainly not from someone a year above of you, as well.

Your squirming went past attempting to sleep in the night. Even during school you had trouble sitting still; at this point it had been months since you'd gotten off after doing it almost daily for two years. It got to the point where you broke, requesting a bathroom break from your history teacher that was, of course, not being used to go to the bathroom.

You hurried through the halls as though you had something to hide, and by God's horrible will, you bumped into Merriel.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, your tone far more accusatory than you meant it to be.

"What are you doin' here?" He asked in return.

"I'm - I was headed to the bathroom, I think," you stuttered out.

"You think?" He laughed, stepping closer. "Why ya all mixed up, baby?"

"Uh, I – I don't, um –"

"Don't need t' be afraid," he said as your back hit the lockers. "I'll keep ya safe."

You barely had the sense of mind to notice it, but one of his legs had slid inbetween yours, further pinning you to the lockers. He couldn't loom over you like Billy did, but God did he ensnare you in a way no one else ever could. Those cold eyes could freeze your whole body.

"Hey! What are you two doing?" Asked a deep, loud voice, causing your eyes to shoot open and dart over to find one of the teachers.

"I've been tryna ask –" Merriel started, but was cut quickly off by the teacher as he approached with incensed haste.

"There is no inappropriate touching on school grounds. Especially during a class session. You two are both getting detention."

He grabbed both you and Merriel's wrists, gripping them so tightly that red began to form on the edges of his hold on you. You gasped sharply, instinctively trying to move your hand away from the pain, but the teacher must've taken it as insubordination. He leased Merriel and used the free hand to slap you across the face so hard it echoed in the empty hallway.

"Don't. Try to resist," he seethed, snatching both your wrists again and dragging you to the principal's office.

By the time you were sitting in the secretary's waiting room, tears were rolling over the hand mark still burning on your cheek. Merriel sat silently beside you, his eyes raking softly over you, and his lips parted as he fidgeted with the collar of his shirt.

"I..." he tried to say something, trailing off before he could start.

"Don't say anything," you whispered shakily, trying to speak through the pressure filling your head, your nose, and the sob sitting like a weight on the back of your tongue. "Why'd you have to say anything?"

He reached for you, for your hand, but you jerked it away.

"Don't," you said.

He left you alone.

You didn't see him, much less talk to him, very often after you lived out your detentions. Most of those sessions were spent in complete silence with a teacher watching over you. There were exactly three more attempts made on his behalf to talk to you––two during detention, one immediately after school. Each time you could barely let him get a word in before you either told him to shut up or simply left him standing there, alone.

Your mother and father gave you hell for those detentions.

In the springtime Merriel and Madeline's mother officially got a job. It wasn't all that high-paying, of course, but she could start to pay for parts of the food. Once she could get a second job, she would probably be able to pay for an apartment again. Other than that, your parents allowed her and her children to continue staying with you, a fact that you still held dear to your heart with your best friend, Madeline, staying with you every night.

Another thing that didn't change was Merriel. You weren't nearly as close to him as you were before the incident, but he still strutted around your mostly-empty house without his shirt on, earning annoyed shouts from his sister.

"Put a fucking shirt on!!" She yelled without restraint, taking full advantage of your mother, father, and her mother being absent.

The two of you were reading from the same magazine on the living room couch––the second one. Not Merriel's bed.

"Ah, shut up, it ain't like ya never seen it before," he drawled as he passed by, a bowl of cereal in hand.

He left up the stairs and you scoffed, earning a similar reaction from Madeline.

"He's kind of... weird," you said underneath your breath.

"Heh, why do you think he gets beat up all the time?"

"That's still happenin'?" You asked, raising a brow.

"Where'd ya think he got that bruise on his cheek from?" She asked with a quiet chuckle, before shaking her head. "He can't seem to stop himself from insultin' those guys."

"Yeah, well, they deserve it," you mumbled.

Those words––her reminder––stayed with you for several days after that. You found yourself scanning Merriel's body whenever he happened to be near, especially when he was wearing fewer clothes.

Unfortunately, like always, Merriel noticed your behavior, but this time did little but throw twisted smirks and grins your way beneath flirtatious gazes. Each time, you scrunched up your nose and looked quickly away. At least he wasn't trying to talk to you.

After school one sunny but rather windy day, you strolled down the hall in search of your government teacher's class, reciting your question for him over and over in your head. Through the many windows lining the school's outer hallways, you could see the bright blue sky, the blooming flowers lining the school's pathways, and the green trees that rustled gayly in the breeze. Students who walked outside had their clothes billowing around them with the force of the wind.

Your gaze flickered from the windows to the long hall in front of you, quickly finding Merriel and several others standing at the very end of it. You squinted to try and identify who was talking to him, but had no success before one of them uppercut Merriel, sending him stumbling back with the force of it.

Without a second thought you ran, your footsteps clacking on the linoleum floor as you approached who you could now see was Billy. Again.

Merriel spat in Billy's face.

You could physically see the anger well up in Billy's red cheeks, coming out in the form of another meaty fist sent screeching down on Merriel's face. Before it could hit him, you were pushing him out of the way and onto the ground, accidentally taking the hit yourself.

Regret instantly filled you, and going by the resounding gasps coming from Billy's friends, regret filled just about everybody else present as well. A burning pain throbbed through your sinuses as blood welled in the cavities, pouring out and over your fingers that covered your nose. It didn't hurt to the pain of tears, but you cried anyway, several thick drops falling al at once.

"(Y/N), I –" Billy tried to say, but you were still covering your now bloody nose.

"Don't you say a fucking thing, Billy," you said, albeit muffled, and grabbed Merriel's hand, dragging him to his feet and out of the school.

Your question for your government teacher could wait until later.

The moment you left the sight of the other boys, you let go of Merriel, quickening your pace in hopes of not having to confront him about your actions. You knew it wouldn't work, and yet you were still disappointed when he grabbed your shoulder and spun you around.

"Thank you," he said, and you could swear it was the first time he'd ever genuinely said those words. No smile or smirk tainted those lips of his.

"Just help me with this," you mumbled, uncovering your face to reveal a plethora of blood smeared all the way down your lips, chin, nose, and your palm.

"Oh. Yeah, 'course," he said in a similarly quiet way, and led you towards the nearest bathroom.

You sat up on one of the freshly-cleaned sinks while Merriel went to fetch toilet paper from one of the stalls, as the school-provided paper towels were much rougher. Of course, he only knew this because he was always cleaning up his own blood.

"You get hurt so much fo' me," he murmured as he genty brushed away the blood with the wet paper.

"Wouldn't have to if you kept out of trouble," you said, hunched over awkwardly so he could easily reach your face.

He fell silent till he finished wiping the blood off you.

"Stop tryin' t' protect me," he said, tossing the now bloody tissues away. He reached up, cupping your face in his, and ensuring you couldn't look away. "I can handle maself."

You searched his expression, seeking some kind of affection, some kind of answer for his actions, but found nothing. He was hollow. Desperate. He was seeking something, too––but you didn't know what it was, and you couldn't ask.

You sniffed, pushing back tears that now threatened to fall for a different reason.

"I hate seeing you get hurt," you admitted in a voice that cracked and broke.

"And I hate seein' you get hurt, too," he said, reaffirming his grip on you with tight, yearning fingers and hips that pushed themselves between your legs. His nose bumped against yours.

Both of you let out exhausted sighs, your foreheads meeting as your eyes closed. You shifted ever so slightly, slotting your nose next to his, and ignoring the pressure welling in your knotted brow. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, following a line down to your bare clavicle and shoulders before resting on your hips.

"I hate you, sometimes," you said softly.

"That's my charm," he said.

You walked home with him that day. Later on, you discovered Billy actually broke your nose, which resulted in several minutes of concerned yelling from your mother, and then a very fast drive to urgent care. Merriel was not allowed to come with, and Madeline was at the library across town, so you went alone with your mother.

It didn't take long for things to get back to normal after that; well, as normal as things were with Merriel and Madeline's family. They moved out and back into their own apartment, and while it certainly wasn't as big as your place, it was wonderful if you wanted to participate in any illegal activities, as their mother was usually working and no one else in the building cared. Every now and then they would come over to your place as well, sometimes after school, and sometimes in the dead of night.

"Hey, sugar," said someone from your windowsill.

You jumped out of your bed sheets, wide eyes whirling round to find a dark figure crawling out of your open window. You nearly let out a screech, opening your mouth to do so, before they rushed forward and covered your mouth.

Merriel.

He let go of you, slowly backing up a step.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" You whisper-screeched, your expression contorted into horrified shock.

"I'm in love, baby," he sung, grinning. "I ain't takin' the blame for mah actions. Also, uh, Madeline's comin', we were racin'."

"Why?"

"Told her I was faster and ah was right," he chuckled.

"Hmmph," you said, crossing your arms. "Obviously. She hates running. She's probably jus' walking here, now."

"Whatever," he said, clearly annoyed that you weren't impressed. "What is it we're doin' tonight?"

"We're going to a concert. My mother managed to get tickets to the Beatles," you said with a smile.

"Damn," he said. "You one a those hyper fans? Gonna pass out when ya see 'em?"

"No," you said, scrunching your nose. "I'm not an idiot. I jus' like good music."

"We'll see 'bout that," he chuckled as he flopped down onto the bed you were previously occupying, splaying out all his limbs.

He let out a long, satisfied sigh while you crossed your arms.

"Is' hot out tonight," he said, his eyes closed blissfully.

"Get off my bed, Mer," you said, irritation twitching at the edge of your lip. "What are you even doing here? I only have two tickets."

"Madeline," he said, intonating each letter, "told me t' come along."

He spoke in a strange, comical way that accentuated each syllable and pronounced the curve of his tongue.

"She said ah was welcome, long's I can make it on foot."

"I guess we could try to sneak you in," you said quietly, ideas quickly sprouting in your head.

"Exactly," he said, bolting up out of your bed and approaching you. "Yer a smart little one. I bet you can think a' somethin'."

"Cool your horses, Merriel," you said, your hands raising defensively in front of you. "We'll see what we can do."

The auditorium was packed.

Hundreds of heads of long, blond hair and curled brown hair stood surrounding the empty stage, the bright lights illuminating a whirlpool of colors that never showed up in any of the films. Even from a considerable distance you could see that stage. Directly in front of you were the ticket stands, full of last-minute ticket-buyers, and full of concert-goers attempting to verify their own tickets. Madeline stood beside you; Merriel was off finding a bathroom window.

"Your brother is an idiot," you whispered to her as you shuffled forward in the long, disorganized line.

"I'm well aware of that," she said, making both of you laugh.

The plan was that he would find a bathroom window and the two of you––you and Madeline––would search the first floor bathrooms for the one emitting a tapping noise. The whole idea came from him, and subsequently gave him the role with the least amount of work. Of course.

Still, you and Madeline got in and set to running around the building's first floor, bursting into bathrooms and shocking anyone inside. You tended to apologize, but Madeline mostly ignored them.

In the second bathroom you checked, you heard the faint tapping, and going by the expressions of the others inside, so did they. One by one they filed out and you waited in the stall connected to the window wall. Guitars and voices began to sing distantly and you cursed softly, wondering why you were skipping out on a concert to help your best friend's sleazy brother sneak in through a bathroom window, of all things.

The second the door swung shut behind the last person, you jumped to your feet and wrenched open the thin window.

"Move," he said, and you did, letting him fall out of the window and onto his back on the hard, stone tile floor.

"You're kinda pathetic," you said with a laugh, shoving him gently with your foot.

He raised himself but only to his knees, shuffling forward and clawing at your pants tightly with a wicked grin.

"Just for you, baby," he said, winking slyly.

Merriel kept close to you, his shoulder constantly brushing yours as the two of you found your way back to Madeline and your assigned standing area. Very few people were left in the halls since the music had already started, leaving you with strange looks from well-dressed, middle-aged business people. Eventually you sneaked through some thick, steel doors and were bathed in guitar music, the harmonic voices of the Beatles going right along with a steady bassline. You laughed at the way the audience was drowning in darkness while the stage was lit well enough to see the sweat on their faces.

Instinctively you reached for Merriel's hand, intertwining your fingers before you pulled him through the crowd. Groups of girls and boys banding together made it difficult to see and move, but you eventually found Madeline's yellow sunflower headband, and shuffled towards her till you stood at your side. At that point you let go of Merriel, but he didn't let go of you. You didn't have the time to notice that.

"Found your brother," you said, using your other thumb to point behind you to Merriel, who looked rather confused as he stared up at the stage.

"Oh, you did?" She asked with a chuckle. "I gave up."

"I would've too."

"Since you left me,

oooh,

I'm so alone––now I'm comin', I'm comin' on home," they sang in the pauses between your conversation.

"Why do girls like them so much?" Merriel asked, standing right behind you.

You jumped from his sudden appearance, brushing against his chest as you turned.

"What??" You yelled over the music and the incessant screaming from the crowd.

Merriel repeated himself, but much, much louder.

"They'e, uh... hard t' look at, if ya get me," he said.

"I don't fucking know," you yelled. "They've got the tunes."

You wouldn't consider yourself a massive fan of the Beatles––or of any specific band––but you could recall almost all the lyrics from the songs they played. Restaurants, schools, grocery stores, discos, and just about every other place imaginable played their songs on repeat, reflecting the trends of the world.

Three hours later you were stumbling out of the auditorium, high on second-hand smoke and the energy the crowd poured out around you. Merriel kept a hand on the small of your back as you returned to the cool night air. In the city, lights were always on––they blocked out the stars, instead replacing them with streetlamps and restaurant lights. Outside of the roof's protection lay clouds, thunder, and rain that now poured in buckets. Most everyone that walked by carried an umbrella, their collars upturned to the harsh wind.

"Shit," Merriel breathed out, pulling you into his side subconsciously as Madeline caught up with you.

"I think there's a streetcar that goes back to around my house," you said as your eyes flickered about the mostly-vacant streets.

Inside glowing windows sat friends at their dinners, occupying warm restaurants with tempting food that sent your stomach growling. Other than that, everything was dark.

"Nah, here comes the bus," he said, pointing at an approaching bus.

He jogged out into the rain, flagging down the large vehicle so it'd stop at the curbside. You and Madeline sent each other looks, but you shrugged, and the two of you ran out after her older brother.

The bus door opened with a hiss and the three of you boarded, already sopping wet from your short venture into the rain. Once the door shut behind you, the floor lurched forward, and each of you went to grasp part of the nearest pole. You scanned the bus for a moment––an old woman with a lace umbrella and two other teenagers in the back––and chose a seat near the door. Merriel and Madeline sat on either side of you.

"How much d'those tickets cost?" Merriel asked in a starkly quiet voice.

"Seven bucks," said Madeline.

"Jesus," he said, his back straightening. "Glad I didn't get one."

"Yeah, I'm kinda wishin' we only bought one and then one a' us snuck the others in," you grumbled as you scratched the back of your head, relaxing into the hair, plastic seat.

"It was fun anyway, right?" Madeline asked.

"I think so," you said.

"Yeah," Merriel said after a moment. "Yeah, it was."

A soft 'ding' sounded as the bus slowed, and you recognized the street to be one near to your home. Considering you lived deep in the rural area, you quickly ushered your friends off on that stop, leading them into a dark, gentle downpour. You raised your palms and looked to the sky, silently thanking the world for warm rain.

"You look like ya fallen in love, baby," Merriel said with a laugh.

You turned to him and asked, "haven't you?"

"Ugh." He rolled his eyes, causing Madeline to laugh, a reaction that sparked your own giggle. "Where are we goin'? Back ta your place?"

"Sure, I've got a film on shrooms I've been wantin' to watch," you said.

"Shrooms?" Madeline repeated.

"Yeah. Psychedelics."

"You're crazy," she laughed, throwing her head back with the force of it.

"That's what psychedelics do to ya," Merriel said, raising his hands to trill his fingers spookily around his eyes. "Turn you crazy, till ya can't tell ya ass from ya mouth!"

"Well that's what we'll find out," you chuckled, gently hitting Merriel on the arm.

"I'll race ya home," he said, but he already began to jog, jogging backwards to watch your confused expression.

"Mer, only I know how to open the lock on that window," you called after him.

He just laughed and turned back to the sidewalk ahead of him, starting off in a run. Both you and Madeline groaned.

"Merriel you're just going to wake my parents!" You yelled.

To no avail. He was gone.

"Is this what he did when you were comin' to my house?" You asked.

Madeline nodded silently with a shrug, her hands stuffed in her pockets.

"Ugh," you groaned, "come on, we have to get there with him."

You began to jog, but Madeline didn't follow with.

"My leg is still bad," she said quietly.

When Madeline was young, an encounter with polio left her injured in her left leg. She mentioned it rarely enough that you often forgot about it.

"Do you mind?" You asked in an equally quiet and soft voice.

"No," she chuckled, "it's alright, go get him."

"Thanks," you murmured with a smile, running off into the gentle rain.

You caught sight of Merriel before he reached your house. You tried to flag him down, but he just laughed and quickened his pace, running off even further from your reach. Annoyance, of course, bubbled in the depths of your stomach, but you pushed it away and decided you'd confront him once you reached your house.

Rounding the small, dark-green lawn, you found Merriel with his hands on your home's white lattice, his neck craned upwards towards the window of your room. Your footsteps hardly made a noise, but it was enough for him to turn and notice you panting.

"Dickhead," you whispered.

"You know you love it."

"Whatever. Be quiet," you said as you began to scale the lattice, jamming your shoes into the little diamond-shaped holes.

One time, a good while ago, the lattice collapsed when you tried to climb it. Fortunately, your parents hadn't heard, and you could use a plethora of excuses when they asked why you were double-nailing the lattice to the wall this time.

As you reached your windowsill, you fumbled to grab a pocket knife out of your pants, and flicked the blade open. Even with the small size of the pocket knife, the blade was thick and capable. You stuck it up between the panes, huffing as you tried to knock the lock over. Merriel soon snuck up beside you, and watched silently, staring at your hands and the knife in them.

Once you heard a small click and the tab flipped onto its' other side, you pressed your palms against the windowpane and forced it upwards, till you could slide your hands beneath and raise it the rest of the way. After clambering into your room, Merriel followed and landed––once more––on his ass.

"You're helpless," you chuckled, offering him your hand.

He brushed it away with a sly grin.

"Good thing I got you t' take care of me," he said, and pulled you forward by the fabric of your pants for the second time that night. "Right, baby?"

You couldn't feel your fingers, but if you could, you could swear sweat was dripping down them. A distinct pain––or maybe some form of pleasure––rung like a gong in your chest. Perhaps it was just your heart. Thundering like the clouds that still lingered on the edges of the city.

"What's gotten into you this evening?" You finally asked, kicking yourself out of his grasp, to which he set you free.

"I told you, sugar," he said with a chuckle, rising to his feet and backing you against your tall bed. You jumped when your back thighs hit the mattress. "I'm in love."

"Yeah, that's great, what's that got to do with me?" You asked in a nervous rush.

He just smiled. He wouldn't stop smiling, even as his fingers dusted your hips, reaffirming their grip on you in an instant as one found your thigh and the other sat at your waist. With those tiny points of control, he slowly laid you to rest on your back with him hovering above you.

That stupid fucking smirk.

"Y'know I never dream," he scanned your eyes, "but I dreamt of you."

A breath lodged itself in your throat, cutting off your air with a special kind of stupefaction. His hand on your outer thigh trailed upwards.

"You drive me crazy, baby. Did ya know that? All those looks, those touches, y' had ta know."

He lowered himself, but not to your lips. His instant decision was to kiss your neck much softer than you thought those sharp tongue and teeth could ever manage, pulling at your delicate skin between plush lips. Every jolt of overstimulation that wracked your body was soothed with a kiss you never thought you'd feel, over and over again, matched by curious, wandering hands sliding up your shirt.

"Tell me you see this too," he mumbled against your skin, more desperate, needy than anything else, shifting his hips against yours. You gulped. "Come on, babe. Tell me you're seein' this, too."

"Fuck, Mer," you whispered, breathing for the first time since he'd set hands on you. "Fuck."

You had little else to say, or at least, very little else your brain could manage to formulate on a tongue heavy with words unsaid. Yes, you saw it. For years. For many, many nights in which you were alone, and your skin wondered how he was touching you now, when your bed was so empty for all those horrid, horrid nights.

How had you managed without it?

When you could feel your fingers again, they were dug into Merriel's hair, pulling at the dark locks that always sat unkempt atop his head. Your other hand settled for tugging at his button-down helplessly.

He had yet to kiss you, and you only knew this because your lips ached for any semblance of affection. Shots of electricity still flew through your body whenever he bit down on your neck, and his hips still pushed into yours, seeking relief from his tight slacks.

At last he raised himself above you, scanning your wide eyes. You hated looking at him like this, but you couldn't look away from those haunted, blue eyes, far too cold for any other boy his age. They looked through you, into you, and searched for the answer you hid so desperately from him. His shoulders were stiff, his chest caught motionless inbetween breaths.

You nodded. Infinitely small, but there, and he finally breathed, his eyes fluttering shut in relief.

In a moment of repose he lowered himself back down to you, his chest to yours, and glided against you like a ship on silent water, sailing for the touch of your lips. When he collided with you, the waves bursted upon the shore, salt lingering in the air as his hands traced the curves of your face. And your heart––it sang like the storm, like the waves, like the ship crashing into the shore and splintering apart in soft touches and murmured words.

"Merriel..." you murmured against his lips, tugging at the back of his hair. "Merriel stop, your sister's gonna be back any minute."

Despite your words, you made no attempt to part from him yourself.

"Uh-uh, baby," he said as he ground his hard-on into you, tasting the need dripping off you, "you started this."

"Fuck," you hissed, friction building instantaneously between your thighs as you tried your best to grind back on him, chasing that heated euphoria.

"I can fuck you on th' sink," he drawled, dipping back down to your neck to bite fiercely beneath your jaw. "Lock the door. Keep her outta there so I can drill ya till ya can't fuckin' speak. D'you want that, sugar?"

One of his hands slipped down your body, forcing your legs further apart and palming you just right.

"I can't wait to feel you around me," he whispered. The words echoed in your foggy mind.

Madeline would be tapping at the window any second.

"No, no," you mumbled in a haze, blearily pushing him off of you. "No, your sister's coming."

"I don't give a shit."

You pushed him away again when he tried to return to your lips.

"I'm not going to fuck you in front of Madeline," you said, keeping your hand on his half-exposed chest.

"You're no fun," he pouted.

"I don't care."

"Fine," he said with a long groan, regretfully tearing himself from you with a pointed erection still straining against his pants. "The moment I get her to leave, you're gonna get it."

He smacked your ass as he stepped away, biting at his lip.

"Can't wait ta play with ya."

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Thank you so much for tagging me @merriell-allesandro-shelton

WIP ASK GAME

Post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one/all of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We're posting progress here. If you haven't made any, go make some and come back to post.

After you've posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file.

That's it! You can invite others to join in or just post.

Young Love and Old Money - Lewis Nixon x Josephine Wills

Her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle cough from beside her as she glanced at the hazy figure sitting on the wrought iron bench.

“Hello JoJo,” the voice came quietly, causing Josie to freeze, her heart thudding loudly in her ears.

“Will?” She asked, watching cautiously as the figure stood, stepping closer into the moonlight. William Beaumont stood before her, his nightshirt hanging loosely on his well built frame, his golden locks tousled from sleep but his blue eyes shining more beautifully than ever.

“Will,” Josie said again, this time more convincingly as she approached him.

“Did you miss me JoJo?” Will asked, using his childhood nickname for her as he came to stand before her. His large frame towered over her smaller one and yet she had never felt safer.

“Of course I have Will.” Josie flung her arms around his neck, burying her head into the crook of his neck and inhaling the all too familiar scent of cigarettes and Brylcreem. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Josie thought she couldn’t cry anymore tonight but the floodgates soon opened and before she knew it Will was cradling her on his lap, smoothing down her disheveled locks and whispering comfortingly to her. This was a scene so common throughout her childhood where her father would say something awful and Will was always there to pick up the pieces, he knew her inside and out and he cared for her. Josie felt herself wondering that despite the wonderful evening she had spent with Lewis was Will actually the best man for her?

David Webster x Florence Durrant

Florence tapped her foot rhythmically against the wooden floorboards of the stage as the music played out from the band around her. Some light chattering from the men in the front row distracted her, eyes hovering over the man at the end of the row who seemed too engrossed in his novel to listen to her singing. As the instrumental section came to an end she took a deep breath, drifting across the stage as she began to sing again.

“We'll meet again

Don't know where

Don't know when”

Florence preferred singing to the English troops, they always knew all the words and would sing along with her. It was in those moments that Florence felt that she was doing the most good to help boost their morale. The American troops however seemed disinterested. Too many of them were smoking, playing cards and talking but the one dark haired soldier at the front bothered her the most, his nose buried in a red, leather bond novel. A few of the officers at the back watched her intently, swaying along to the music, whether it was more out of respect to her or because they didn’t have any other plans for their Saturday evening.

The Good Die Young - Jake Seresin x reader (WW2 au)

(This is an extract from chapter 3 which I will hopefully be posting soon)

“I swear to God, if I have to take one more step I’m gonna shoot myself,” Edward whined, his pack slipping further down his back and his knees sinking to the floor despite their orders to continue marching.

“Get up, Mary. Come on we can’t rest yet,” Jake hauled his fellow Marine up so he was standing against him, supporting him around his waist and hauling him forward, ignoring the protest from the boy at his distasteful nickname. That boy was far from a virgin anymore, not with all the women he’d spent time with in Melbourne. They had fallen behind their original group but with the blisters Jake was suffering from he hadn’t minded the slower pace with Edward.

“Just a little further now,” Jake pointed to the distance where he could see a group of Marines stopping to make camp for the night. “Just up on that ridge and then we can stop, I promise.”

Edward groaned but nodded, standing to support himself a little more. He swung his Springfield disdainfully over his shoulder, he was still upset that the M1 Garand he’d scrounged from the army supplies had been confiscated and instead replaced with his original Springfield. Jake recalled the lectures of ‘it's lightweight and ammunition capacity is far better than this fucking shit’ Edward had complained nearly every night since they’d docked in Melbourne.

I have several other WIPS but I haven’t added to them in the last 7 days and I currently don’t have time/ inspiration etc for so I’ll add them down here and you guys can ask about them if you wish.

An original WW2 story - this story doesn’t currently have a definite title, despite the fact that I’ve been adding to it for almost a year, and is mainly just a load of research and planning with a few odd sentences and paragraphs but I’m very excited to start turning this into something beautiful. This will be a project for me following into winter 2023 and 2024.

Be My Last - Rhett Abbott x reader series - the reader is a student vet who comes home from university for the summer and works at the local veterinary practice. On a call to the Abbott’s family ranch with one of the vets she meets Rhett. To say it was love at first sight would be the furthest from the truth but they begin to grow on each other but families are complicated and long distance relationships are hard. ( I haven’t added to this series for a while and it’s very much a working progress but I may eventually get back into the swing of writing it)

Tagging: @desert-fern @mayhem24-7forever @mayhemmanaged @georgieluz @softspeirs @mads-weasley and anyone else who wants to join in.

[iceman-kazansky]

"#I hope you liked it" HSBSHJSJA I LOVED IT! IT WAS SO BEAUTIFUL!! THE ENDING HAD ME WEEPING 😭

SPECIFICALLY THE “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.” 😭😭

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.

[r-ahh-mi]

The Jacket

Pairing: Snafu x Reader

Warnings: Death

Authors Note: I had this idea saved in my drafts for agessssss. I just now grew some inspiration to write it. I hope you enjoy xx

__________________________

This jacket.

This tattered and worn out jacket that most would’ve gotten rid of ages ago, but not Merriell.

For whatever reason, he clung onto this now misshaped denim that was weathered and stained, but somehow this mess of a fabric was his security.

And when he asked you to kindly sew up the newest set of holes, you nodded, just like you always did. 

But with the keeping things tidy around the shack you both had for a home and taking care of your newborn child, you hadn’t quite gotten around to finishing the jacket before Mer unexpectedly had to leave.

“Just have it finished by the time I get back baby,” he said with a drawl as he kissed your lips just as deeply as he had the first time he took you out on a proper date.

You nodded solemnly as he gave you one last squeeze of a hug before he walked over to the door, beginning to shut the wood quietly as to not wake yours and his sleeping child whom he smiled at with utter joy just before the door fully shut.

While Mer was away you found this jacket to be some sort of comfort for you. As if Merriell’s security and attachment in this item had been transferred over to you to hold you over until he got home.

Day after day; when the baby was sleeping & when the quiet of the nighttime allowed the loneliness to settle in an extra large amount, you picked up the jacket. You sewed and sewed until you were yawning, blurry eyed, and having fingers that were rawed and red.

Never would you complain, in fact, this soon became a routine part of your day that is until you finished pulling your thread and needle through the very last seam that was in need of binding.

For several minutes, you let the denim sit in your lap as you looked it over, seeing if there was maybe a spot you had missed, but it was pristine, minus the stains and obvious wear that was no longer able to be corrected.

A sense of grief came over you, one which you didn't understand at first, until you began to cry. Cry because you missed the jacket and having something to preoccupy your mind, but deep down you knew that you simply missed your partner, your lover, your soulmate. Not to mention, every-time he left in that heavy fitted uniform, you know there was a chance he wouldn’t ever walk back through that door.

But somehow, even you thinking of him never coming back didn’t help ease the blow when those two men came knocking on your door, confirming a fear that was deeply buried, yet still so very real in possibility.

You smiled so gleefully, fully prepared to embrace your lover in your arms once more and for the first time in ages, but instead, your face immediately fell as you looked at the gloomed faces of the men in uniform stood at your front door none of which were Merriell Shelton.

The first thing you did after slamming the door in their faces was grasp onto the denim. Holding it up to your face; feeling it, smelling it, and smelling him as your tears would surely soak the fabric in short due time.

This jacket was now a ghost. A ghastly reminder of the love of your life. It was now your security; one that you would hold onto until your hands grew wrinkled and your child got married. One that you would bring with you to the nursing home, setting it next to you in bed each night, just as you had since the day you found out about Merriell’s passing.

You too would die and decay with the world and as you took your last breath, the last thing you felt on your fingertips was a loose thread hanging off of that denim jacket.

[imaginesbymk]

Preference // The Pacific.

When They Get Jealous.

CHARACTERS: merriell “snafu” shelton, eugene sledge, robert leckie, john basilone, sid phillips & lew “chuckler” juergens

NON REQUESTED

TAGS: swearing, violence (someone gets punched) + smoking

AUTHOR’S NOTE: leave a like/comment + feedback !! 

( MERRIELL “SNAFU” SHELTON )

anyone who has the audacity to flirt with you would most likely not even know who snafu is and if they did, they think you deserve to be with someone else

however, snafu makes it clear that you’re his, so it wouldn’t make sense why anyone would try to challenge him

it’s very funny to him that he’ll smirk and just come over and pull you away from the person, but he would literally scare them if they piss him off

“if i ever find the fucker breathing the same air as y/n again, i’ll fuck them up!” 

maybe a few punches here and there, lots of cussing and name calling, too

_

( EUGENE SLEDGE ) [x]

eugene doesn’t bother suffering the jealousy in silence, so he unintentionally takes out his frustrations on his comrades and intentionally on the enemy

it takes one look at the person for him to think, who do you think you are? what makes you so better than me?

his insecurities will start to kick in, and he’ll grow more protective over you

he’ll shove the person and warn them that he’ll kill them if they ever look in your direction again

snafu and the rest of the guys would be holding him back if he absolutely loses it

he’s like that because he’s so scared of losing you

_

( ROBERT LECKIE )

something like that is bound to happen anytime

bob is a very charming man, and he knows no one is better for you than him

he reminds himself he’s the first to win your heart and he’ll just simply ignore the person who’s hitting on you

there’s a lot of comparing between him and whoever he has to deal with, and just by judging them from afar, he’s very sure that he can control his jealousy - for now, at least

and not even that, he’s gonna come up and pull you away, give the person a smile and go, “nice try.” and you two would be on your way

_

( JOHN BASILONE ) [x]

trust me when i say no one is gonna come between you and the john basilone because that is literally an ant trying to fight an elephant

john is treated like a god so he wouldn’t worry about anyone getting in his way of his relationship with you

as soon as the person realizes john is standing right behind them, they’ll immediately back off

john loves you a lot and even if he were to worry, you tell him to trust you 

he teaches you to defend yourself if someone were to get aggressive if they don’t take no for an answer, and he’s so impressed if you use it one day

–

( SID PHILLIPS )

sid is not happy and it’ll tear him up if the jealousy overcomes

and sid is such a sweetheart, it’s hard for people to take him seriously in that matter, even though it hits him pretty hard

he’s gonna want to compete against that person for your love and attention, even though that’s completely unnecessary given that he’s literally in a relationship with you

sid doesn’t even like the confrontation, so he’s stuck 

eugene advises him that you’re with him and that no one is gonna take his happiness away

_

( LEW “CHUCKLER” JUERGENS ) [x]

chuckler isn’t one to get easily jealous and pissed off, he’d be like “hey, shithead? back off.... y/n is mine”

however, if the person doesn’t stop, it leads to two words: bar fight

but chuckler is nearly six feet, a literal fucking giant in the division. so why and how would anyone even beat him in a bar fight?

the person is very ballsy so he would get caught off guard with a few punches, but of course - chuckler wins the fight with a couple bruises and a bloodied nose

he makes out with you after and assures you that he will never let some lowlife take you away from him