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shadow0-1 · 3 days
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For Glendy Lucas
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itstheheebiejeebies · 2 months
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Robert Zussman wallpapers for @pretty-fly-for-a-sky-guy
if you have a request or want to be tagged for any of my edits send me an ask. don’t repost, reblogs appreciated. all of my edits can be found here
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A/n: All Call Of Duty fics.
Key:
-💋:Smut
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Russel Adler:
::Fics::
✨: A welcomed Mistake.
✨: A welcomed Mistake || Pt2 ||-💋
✨: Would you like to put the star on the very top of the tree?
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Ronald Daniels:
✨: tall buff characters that are actually gentle giants
Joseph Turner:
✨: Be The One You Need-💋
William Pierson:
✨:Just being a dad
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Alejandro Vargas:
::Fics::
✨: Too Cold
✨:Cabin Sex-💋
✨:Five Times Kissed
✨: Jealousy.
✨:Not Jealous-💋
✨:You ride my face,or you don’t get off-💋
✨: Short + Tall
✨:Snow ball fight
✨:You look good in that suite- 💋
✨:I would die for her
✨:Secret Santa- 💋
✨:
✨:
:Headcanons:
💕:Alejandro as a protective girl dad and his daughter wanting to be in the Mexican special forces.
💕: Alejandro as a father.
💕: Being over Stimulated.
💕:Kisses under the mistletoe with the 141 boy’s
💕: How would the COD boys react to Y/N having nipple piercings?
💕:
💕:
Simon “Ghost” Riley:
::Fics::
✨: Rosy Cheeks
✨:Alone
✨:Wrapped in a soft blanket.
✨:Helping with a sickness.
✨: Did you spike the eggnog again?
✨:I’m not sick.
✨:I’ll be better than my father.
✨: Bedroom Cuddles.
✨: The turkey’s not the only thing getting stuffed today -💋
✨: Christmas shenanigans under the tree- 💋
✨:Off Limits.
✨:
✨:
:Headcanons:
💕: chase me through the woods and if you catch me you can have me -💋
💕:Being over Stimulated.-💋
💕:First Christmas with the 141 boys.
💕:Kisses under the mistletoe with the 141 boy’s
💕:
Rodolfo Parra:
::Fics::
✨: Leaves
✨: dance of the sugar plum fairy
✨:I’ll take care of you.
✨:
✨:
✨:
:Headcanons:
💕:Kisses under the mistletoe with the 141 boy’s
💕: How would the COD boys react to Y/N having nipple piercings?
💕:
💕:
💕:
Johnny “Soap” MacTavish:
::Fics::
✨: Flannel Season
✨: The best kind of hugs
✨:Breasts are my favorite things to nibble on-💋
✨:141 x reader where they cheat? And the reader moves on and they regret it?
✨: It’s time for hand turkey’s everyone.” “FUCK YES!!”
✨:
✨:
:Headcanons:
💕: Being over Stimulated. 💋
💕:First Christmas with the 141 boys.
💕:Kisses under the mistletoe with the 141 boy’s
💕:Johnny with a breeding Kink.
💕:
💕:
💕:
Philip Graves:
::Fics::
✨: Saved From a Shitty Date
✨:Thanksgiving Dinner-💋
✨:Hero
✨:141 x reader where they cheat? And the reader moves on and they regret it?
✨:Very Naughty- 💋
✨: Gonna be a dad
✨:
✨:
✨:
:Headcanons:
💕:Kisses under the mistletoe with the 141 boy’s
💕:
💕:
Kyle “Gaz” Garrick
::Fics::
✨: You’re safe
✨:141 x reader where they cheat? And the reader moves on and they regret it?
✨:
✨:
✨:
:Headcanons:
💕:First Christmas with the 141 boys.
💕:Kisses under the mistletoe with the 141 boy’s
💕:
💕:
John Price
::Fics::
✨: hanging up the Christmas lights
✨: Risky Business 
✨:Warmth bath.
✨: He’s a silver fox.
✨:
✨:
✨:
:Headcanons:
💕:First Christmas with the 141 boys.
💕:Kisses under the mistletoe with the 141 boy’s
💕: How would the COD boys react to Y/N having nipple piercings?
💕:
💕:
Alex Keller
::Fics::
✨: Walking in the dark to see festive light displays
✨:Injured Confession.
✨:
:Headcanons:
💕:
💕:
König
::Fics::
✨: Helping with a sickness.
✨:Doctor! Doctor
✨:König where it’s his s/o’s birthday?
✨:
✨:
:Headcanons:
💕: chase me through the woods and if you catch me you can have me- 💋
💕:As a father.
💕: König with have a praise kink and size kink.- 💋
💕: How would the COD boys react to Y/N having nipple piercings?
💕:
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cloudofbutterflies92 · 2 months
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Sacrifice, that's what we do for the people we love
A moodboard dedicated to Elizabeth Monroe and Arthur Park(both of them are MI6 agents), Helen Park's parents and Eden's great-grandparents
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madeisies · 7 months
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Call of Duty WWII - Operation cobra
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kapkant7 · 9 months
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Saw this going around on Twitter and decided to take a crack at it. Template by FanaticSpam
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Some of these were very difficult, you could slot in Samantha instead of Richtofen, Outbreak instead of Firebase Z and Mauer Der Toten over Der Riese depending on the day. Also for anyone confused the Guilty Pleasure is The Darkest Shore from CoD WWII
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I am not even going to lie here and say that my pick is definitely World At War. The campaign is tough but able to be gotten through and they just do not hold back on any of the horrors of war in that game.
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powderrr · 2 days
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I love Turner and it seems to me that in a peaceful environment he would be insanely gentle. He would also have shed a tear when he found out that Danial named his son after him. (I know I misspelled the name Joseph. Sorry. When I drew this, I basically forgot how to spell this name altogether)
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Я люблю Тернера и мне кажется, что в мирной обстановке, он был бы до безумия мягок. А ещё он бы прослезился, когда узнал, что Дэниал назвал своего сына в честь него
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glorious-pxrpose · 21 days
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god i'm hyperfixed on cod wwii once again and i need someone to scream about it with. 🫠🫠
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voltac · 7 months
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In the Face of Fear 2
Chapter 1
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Warnings: Cannon typical Violence, medical inaccuracies, depictions of injuries & death, Pierson is his own warning, WW2, language, blood
A/N: Just me casually dropkicking the next chapter into the void.
AO3
Word Count: 8.5k
By July 25th the Allied Forces were pressing forward again, the 745th Tank Battalion linking up with the 1st Division as they prepared to push to Marigny. Isabella was up before the sun, moving through the darkness with the Support Teams while reviewing the supplies needed by the first wave. Corporal Stone nodded with each direction, it had become more and more apparent as the weeks stretched on that Isabella paid attention to everything around her.
Every tourniquet and bandage were accounted for, each rotation was tracked and managed regardless of the chaos that existed outside the tent walls. Despite being one of the senior medial officers there were still some who argued her place, forcing Jack to throw his weight and authority around. Ensuring that the woman in the loop, pulling her from rounds when needed for debriefs.
“You’re up early.” Pierson drawled, walking towards the pair with the familiar frown.
“Walker would lose his head if it wasn’t attached – I’m not putting him in charge of supplies.” She announced dryly, Stone nodding in agreement before he took the first of many stacks towards the staging area.
“Did you sleep at all?”
“Did you?” She jabbed, shooting the tall man a look over her shoulder while she dug through a crate. “Bit of the pot callin’ the kettle black, don’t cha think?”
“You’ve been runnin’ yourself ragged for weeks.”
“I can nap once y’all get out of my camp, Pierson.” She drawled lazily, “You��however are marchin’ into god knows what so I’ll ask again – did you?”
He grunted in response rolling his eyes heavily while he leaned back against one of the larger shipping crates. Isabella was unbothered by his aggressive gravel laden tones, her attention barely lifting from whatever it was she was doing. He lazed around the tent as she worked on her tasks, leaving her just long enough to return with two mugs of too strong coffee. Shoving one in her hand before he returned to his crate, brown eyes regarding her silently as he waited for Turner to show up.
It didn’t take long – within the hour Turner had arrived from whatever pre-operation meeting he’d been attending. Offering his own greetings before the men set off to start pulling the soldiers out of their beds and prep the vehicles. Isabella continued to work with the supply team into the early hours, Red and his team arriving after the sun had already broken over the horizon bathing the farm in a warm glow.
Red was the first to help, Aiello and Stiles quickly falling in step as they grabbed whatever bag or crate Isabella attempted to gather. Sighing lightly to herself she accepted their assistance with a thanks, pinching Red’s shoulder as he fired off a smart remark. Things picked up as they helped her move, her muscles no longer feeling the strain of the repetitive motions. Lazy conversation with her brother’s platoon made the morning move quickly, the sun rising overhead before late afternoon quickly settled over them. Soldiers and officers alike all working through their makeshift supper with the impending advance looming over them.
“So,” Aiello spoke up, drawing their attention to him. “Gotta ask, how’d a gal like you wind up out here?”
Isabella rolled her eyes lightly at his tone, her attention snapping to Red as he took another crate from her hands. It had been annoying at first, their insistence at carrying whatever they deemed too heavy for her, but as the hours had burned on she had to admit it made the process much smoother. The ache in her joints not sinking quite as deeply into her bones despite the fact they’d pushed through most of the day by this point.
“Oh you know,” She drawled blandly, adjusting her grip on the crate in her hand, head nodding towards the final truck. “Went to school and thought the Army was more fun than a hospital.”
“That doesn’t sound right,” Stiles spoke up, brows furrowing as he regarded her, “I’d much rather be in a Hospital with Air Conditioning.”
“Alright, that’s a fair point.” She shrugged, sliding the first crate across the truck bed, stepping aside to allow them to follow suit as the soldier in the bed repositioned the supplies. “Most of the Hospitals don’t care about your doctorates if you’re a woman. The war hasn’t made them desperate enough to punch down to grab more resources yet. On the flipside the Army is always looking for more boots on the ground if they know how to patch the others up.”
Red’s brows furrowed, his temper flaring lightly at the thought. He remembered all of Isabella’s letters when she was in school, she’d scored high enough to receive an invite to Poland to speak on one of her papers. It didn’t make sense that she was unable to find a position in a hospital or clinic.
“So you’re over qualified?” Aiello grinned, trying his best to win the woman over – ignoring the way Red glared at him.
“I wouldn’t say that-.” Isabella drawled, her nose wrinkling lightly at the complement.
“I would.” A voice announced loudly, their attention snapping backwards to find a grinning Zussman approaching them arms opened wide before he offered a hug to the woman, wide grin turning to Red as he stepped towards them. “Best care I’ve ever had – and way better than those butchers on the carrier.”
“Ayyy – looks who’s back for more.” Aiello laughed, shifting his weight against the fence post while Red pulled Zussman into a relieved hug.
“Thought you were out for another week.”
Red’s grin faltered briefly, eyes flickering over the other man’s abdomen as memories of crimson flashed behind his eyes. Zussman waved off the worried look, his pride and bravado pushing the fears aside as he shifted his weight on his feet, shouldering his rifle.
“Not after I heard a bunch of tough SOBs were about to take Marigny.” Zussman smirked, glancing around the group.
Isabella rolled her eyes lightly, reaching forward to pat the younger man’s head before she gathered up the papers. Scoffing with the boyish grin turned towards her while she turned towards the jeep behind them, laying the papers out across the hood.
“Well, Playbook’s working. This rate we’ll be home by Christmas.” Aiello smiled, glancing around the small group before his attention settled back on Zusman. “Now, don’t just stand there, let’s see.”
Isabella rolled her eyes at the comment – Men wouldn’t change. They were the same now than they were as children, showing off their bumps and bruises like trophies. She’d be lying if she wasn’t a little worried about Zussman’s injury, he’d been teetering on the edge when she took over for Smith on the beach.
“Alright.” Zussman grinned, slipping off his backpack as he pulled at the hem of his pants and shirt. “Not bad, eh?”
Isabella glanced up, a small frown pulling at her lips at the dark blue bruising, the stitches had been removed but she knew the skin was still fragile. Scrunching up her nose lightly she glanced back down at the papers in her hand. Nodding her head she lightly leaned back, flipping back to the front page as Turner and Pierson approached them. Her attention shifted towards the maps in Turner’s hand, her brow arching lightly as he shrugged back at her. Undisturbed by her question but offering little information to her, a less than helpful sass visible on Pierson’s features when her gaze turned towards him.
“Eh, I’ve seen worse.” Aiello commented, causing Isabella to snort lightly.
“Glad to have you back, Private.” Turner spoke up from the jeep, drawing their attention back towards him as he leaned against the hood of the car.
“Good to be back, sir.” Zussman announced, standing straighter under Pierson’s gaze.
“Alright Fellas.” Turner continued, turning his attention to the small group around him. “We got a unique opportunity here, this is our chance to break out of Normandy.”
Isabella flipped through the papers one more time – her growing unease spurring her to triple check the supplies she was sending with the first wave. The rest of the guys turned their attention fully to Turner, stepping closer to hear Turner’s orders clearer.
“The hedgerows are heavily defended and we got reports for Kraut armor in the area.” Turner continued, turning to face the team fully. “But if we can hold and secure Marigny, we own the roadways. And if Zussman can take a knife in the gut and come out swinging, I like our odds just fine.”
“Always bet on a winner, sir.” Zussman smiled, glancing up as the fighters sailed overhead.
Isabella shook her head with a chuckle, rolling her eyes at the bravado as she stepped back. Now that the forward platoon was going to be shipping out she’d need to switch gears, she knew this first push was going to be hard – probably harder than any of them expected. She and the other medics were cautious after Normandy in storing whatever supplies they could – it would be a long push to the Rhine, and the all knew they were going to run low much sooner than they expected.
“Got everything squared away?” Turned questioned, stopping next to her as she pulled another stack of papers up.
“Yeah, y’all are set for the first wave. Once you push them back the rest of us will be following up with second platoon.”
“Great, stay safe, Izzy.” He patted her helmet earning a sharp swat from her, eyes narrowing as she wrinkled her nose.
“Yeah yeah, y’all too.” She rolled her eyes, her hand returning to her side as she glanced between the pair. “You guys are the ones goin’ into the thick of it. Try to stay in one piece, yeah? Can’t be stitchin’ you up all the time.”
Turner rolled his eyes, Pierson snorting as he shook his head at the woman’s antics. His attention shifting back towards the Privates as they moved towards the tanks.  
“Alright, 1st Platoon, we’re rolling out!” Turner announced, stepping away from Isabella to walk towards his ride. “Let’s go, let’s go!”
Pierson patted her shoulder briefly before he followed after Turner. His own orders falling from his lips while her attention turning towards Red and his group as they made their way to Parez’s tank. Offering them each a smile and wave, Red nodding back to her nervously. She couldn’t identify if the nerves were the over the impending battle he was riding into or the reality of leaving her behind.
Gathering the files in her hands she moved towards the makeshift supply tent, glancing up to wave at Perez as he greeted her. She didn’t cross paths with the Tank Battalion often, but the man had always been an optimistic presence. Quick movement drew her attention back to Pierson when he made a beeline for Zussman, ever present frown pulling at his lips.
“Hey-.” Pierson spoke up, brown eyes shifting towards the wound with skeptical eyes when the Private turned away from the tank to face him. “Y’know, a wound like this takes eight weeks to heal.”
“I’m ready Sergeant. You’ve got my word.” Zussman assured, standing straighter under Pierson’s hard glare, his knuckles whitening around the strap.
“Oh your word huh? That don’t mean shit to me.”
Isabella rolled her eyes lightly; some things would never change. Though she knew he meant well, she was less than amused when Pierson started none too lightly smack the man’s side. Her brows knitting together as Zussman swallowed the grimace back forcing himself to stand as straight as possible through sheer force of will.
“So you’re good, huh?”
“I’m just fine and dandy, sir.” Zussman confirmed.
“Pierson-.” Isabella cut in, a frown on her lips while she fixed him with a chastising look. “He’s standing and not vomiting. The bruising won’t be healed but it’s past the point of reopening unless you plan on stabbing him again.”
Pierson shot her a hard look, lips pulled into a scowl when she challenged his methods. Zussman’s wide eyes snapping over towards her as she remained unbothered by the Sergeant’s aggressive glare. Pierson was always an aggressive man, jaded further by the months spent in the war – but he ultimately meant well. He was an asshole about it – downright venomous at times. Despite the rumors that circulated in the camp about his actions, Isabella knew it was his attempt to keep history from repeating itself. She knew it, Turner knew it – but most of the platoon just saw the ghosts of Kasserine.
Clenching his jaw Pierson’s attention shifted back towards Zussman, the movement causing the man’s attention to snap back to him. His spine straightening again under the CO’s gaze, arm tensing as if he had nearly saluted on instinct.
“You got guts, Private.” Pierson announced slowly, shifting his weight as he adjusted his rifle. “I just don’t wanna to see ‘em.”
Isabella watched closely when he turned back, shooting her another withering glare his lips pulling into yet another scowl while just she shrugged with a small apologetic smile. There was no use in arguing with him – there never had been. The military was built up by bullheaded men, many seemed to find a home in the Army but there were few who could outlast Pierson in a standoff.
Her attention shifted back to Zussman after Pierson walked away from them, offering him a reassuring smile that he returned uneasily. Wincing as he turned back to the take his spot at the front of the tank across from Stiles. Truthfully – he wanted to vomit. The pain radiated across his abdomen and up his spine in a way that almost worried him.
“Tanks Rollin’!” Perez called out, offering Isabella another grin and a wave before he turned his full attention towards the column of soldiers.
“Hang on tight, boys.” Aiello announced, waving to the woman with the others, “It’s gonna get rough.”
“What else is new?” Stiles grumbled, his voice barely reaching her over the rumble of the tanks.
“I think Pierson likes you,” Perez laughed, leaning forward to catch Zussman’s attention.
“Like a Lion likes a steak.” He retorted glancing back up at the man.
Isabella rolled her eyes lightly at the quip, her attention shifting fully back to her tasks. Now that the 1st Platoon was out of the way she needed to get her own group ready before running through her patient list again. Moving along after the team would be difficult – she was used to setting up shop at the FOB and remaining there until the teams returned from patrols. Leaving her patients in the care of others wasn’t something she was fond of – she became less fond of it the more she worked with some of the newer doctors that were brought in.
Perez’s tank rattled out of the farmyard slowly, the trees and bushes that lined the roads quickly swallowing the field camp from view. The team sat in silence for only a few moments, sharp eyes scanning the sky to see plumes of smoke rising up from behind the wall of foliage. The more they advanced the louder the rattling guns became, slowly breaking through the rumbling engines and rattling tank tracks.
“Looks like you’re holdin up alright.” Zussman announced suddenly, breaking the silence when he turned back to look at Red.
“How about yourself?” Red questioned, brows creasing as he glanced down at the side he was favoring.
“Right as rain,” Zussman assured, waving the younger man off, “Bella patched me up before I even left the beach. Plus – couldn’t let you guys have all the fun.”
“Eh, fun’s not allowed under Pierson.” Perez jested, cutting into the conversation with a sarcastic grin. “You know why he’s always riding you?” The man glanced back to Red “Kasserine Pass.”
“Lost my best friends there.” Aiello admitted bitterly, his teeth grinding together.
“Yeah, earned him an Article 15 and a demotion.” Perez’s attention shifted around the younger soldiers, “He had to be a hard ass and his men paid the price. Mission was FUBAR, a Massacre… Nazis had no mercy. Hell – we only survived cause they didn’t have the time to seal the Western Exit… Almost lost everything thanks to that son of a bitch. An’ Turner still ain’t over it. Matter of fact he was the one who wrote him up. Pierson figures if he makes you a model platoon he’ll get it scrubbed.”
“Only we’re doing the scrubbing.” Red muttered, running a hand down the side of his face in an attempt to ease the growing tension.
“Heh, yeah. Now you’re gettin’ it.” He snorted, “It’s why he’s never gonna give up. He’d kill to have it removed. I got no idea why Isabella puts up with him – I sure as fuck wouldn’t.”
“You know Bella?” Red questioned, brows furrowing as the man turned towards him again a look of confusion settling over him.
“The Doc? Yeah.” Perez nodded, “Met her at Kasserine.”
“She was at Kasserine?!”
The Staff Sergeant glanced around the men, brow arching at the varying levels of shock and horror. He hadn’t expected the reaction – she was on the heels of the landing team spearheading the allied war effort so Kasserine wasn’t that far of a leap for the doctor. Red in particular looked like he was going to be sick, color draining from his face as he gripped the metal of the tank in a death grip.
“Yeah, almost died too.” He spoke slowly, brows furrowing, “Turner had to carry her out during the evac...”
“What happened?” Stiles questioned cautiously; eyes trained on Red.
“To be honest I don’t know – just know there was a lot ‘f blood ‘n she couldn’t get out on her own…” Perez’s brows arched again, glancing around the anxious looks – the repeated glances back to Red not going unnoticed. “Listen – I’m gonna be straight with ya, I get the Doc is a sweet gal but I wouldn’t recommend barkin’ up that tree. She’s a beauty but that Captain is a beast of a medic. And Turner ‘n Pierson’ll skin ya for even lookin’ at-.”
“She’s Daniels’ sister.” Zussman announced, shooting the man a look.
“Oh- OH!” The grin returned, “You’re the kid she was always talkin’ about, eh? No way – small world. Your sister’s a hell’va medic.”
“She didn’t mention…I didn’t know-.” Red’s brows furrowed, an uncomfortable feeling dropping into her stomach.
What else hadn’t she told him?
“Hey- Kid. Don’t dwell on it.”
“She probably didn’t want to worry you about it, man.” Zussman tried to reassure.
“Don’t dwell on it.” Perez repeated, “Doc doesn’t talk about it. The only reason why I know is because I saw her there – no one really knows what happened before they hauled her out. To his credit – Pierson didn’t leave her side until Turner shipped her back to the Carrier. He damn near killed some British bloke for gettin’ too close to her cot.”
The assurance did little to appease the gnawing guilt and anxiety that rose up within him. The pessimist in him wondered if she hadn’t told him because she was worried he couldn’t handle the information. Logically he knew that wasn’t true – he remembered Paul complaining to their mother when Isabella hadn’t mentioned the hurricane she’d been traveling through. Isabella had never been open when things went sideways – even when she’d been thrown from that gelding as a kid Paul was the one who had to tell their parents.
Beneath the guilt and the worry a small flicker of anger flooded his system – Pierson’s decisions had nearly killed her. But he still hung around her when she was working. Not enough to be suspicious or give anyone the wrong impression but enough to be noticeable. Turner did too – but he hadn’t been the one calling the shots in Kasserine. Part of him wondered if he was trying to atone. Isabella was a forgiving person by nature, it took a lot for her to draw lines in the sand.
“You know what I’d kill for?” Aiello announced suddenly, forcefully pulling the conversation out of the uncomfortable topic. “Some decent grub.”
“You just had supper.” Stiles sighed,
“Shit on a shingle doesn’t count.” He countered,
“Hey, how ‘bout barbecue, eh?” Perez offered, sarcastically waving to the burning wreckage of the cars as they approached.
The smell of burning flesh and smoke filling their noses. The German vehicles were destroyed beyond recognition – bombed effectively by the fighters that had flown out ahead to clear the path. The planes still visible in the distance as they dove around the flares of the AA guns on the horizon.
“They never stood a chance…” Stiles muttered, wide eyes taking in the devastation.
“I’m guessing ‘no’ to the open casket.” Aiello joked, Perez offering him a wry grin.
“that’s somebody’s son.” Red chastised, hard glare shifting towards the veteran.
“Naw… It’s a Kraut.” Perez counted, waving the smoke away.
“Daniels is right, they’re not all bad.” Zussman countered, shooting the men a look over his shoulder.
“They did give us Kepler, Mozard…” Stiles spoke up, trying to alleviate some of the growing tension.
“Alright, college.”
“Marlene dietrich.” Zussman supplied,
“See that’s more like it.”
Stiles rolled his eyes at the pair, shaking his head briefly before glancing back to Red to find the younger man grinning. Muttering under his breath again he turned back towards Aiello again, he should’ve expected the veteran to not appreciate classical music composers. Particularly after some of the comments that had been traded during patrols over the past few weeks.
“And don’t forget their inventions – you got the printing press, electron microscope….” Stiles tried again, trailing off when a grin stretched across Zussman’s lips again.
“Frankfurters!” Zussman cheered lazily, throwing a fist in the air.
“You guys are killin’ me.” Aiello sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose while Red cackled quietly to himself.
The group fell into a relaxed silence, occasionally trading quips and jokes while the tanks continued to roll lazily through dense foliage. It was surprising how quickly they’d adapted to war – finding a comfortable silence so quickly after seeing the charred remains left behind in wreckage. The smoke still so close they could taste it on the wind. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Red was worried at what that could mean in the future – sure the smoldering metal hadn’t been nearly as bad as what they’d seen on Normandy it was still death.
Someone’s Son, taken too soon.
There was a constant conflict in the back of his mind, between who he was now and who he was when he stepped off the boat. He’d seen things he hadn’t expected even in his nightmares, knew that they needed to do what they could to put an end to it. But at the same time – if push came to shove could he actually do what needed to be done? He still woke up some nights thinking of that Nazi in the bunker and the look of the man’s face after he’d bashed him with a rock. He’d been desperate then – driven by fear and adrenaline and the need to get back to Zussman.
Logically it was them vs the Nazi.
But it didn’t make it easier in the middle of the night.
“You guys hear that…?” Stiles muttered, drawing Red out of his thoughts.
A frown settled across his lips, the faint dull whistle that seemed to echo over the trees as it drew nearer and nearer. Dragging across their ears like nails on a chalk board, forcing their spines to straighten as a new wave of anxiety clawed up from their chest.
The familiar screech of a diving fighter.
“It’s headed this way!” Aiello shouted, head spinning as he tried to get eyes on the planes through the trees.
“Stukas!!” Perez shouted, pointing towards the planes as they circled around. “Inbound!”
Without warning a bomb slammed into the convoy, a plane screaming overhead as one of the tanks was thrown skyward. Tumbling over in the air sending soldiers crashing into the mud while another tank caught fire, rocking violently on its tracks before it started to veer off course.
They’d been spotted.  
“Shit!” Perez shouted, dropping into the tank and readying the doors, “Clear the Tanks!”
“Daniels!” Jack shouted, jogging through the chaos that littered the demolished farmyard, sharp eyes scanning the numerous cross-painted helmets. “Daniels!”
When the first bomb was dropped the camp erupted into chaos, soldiers and medics alike scrambling to prep vehicles while others set up perimeters. It didn’t take long before most of the medics were sent ahead with the reinforcing teams to support Second Platoon. A familiar drawl bit something out from the barn, Texan accent hissed between teeth rising above the chaos drawing the Captain’s gaze.
“Daniels!” Jack snapped again, jogging towards Isabella yanking her up as she went to grab her bag, “Davis wants you with him – grab a go bag.”
“What?” Brows furrowed over sapphire eyes, frown carved into her lips. “I’ve got-.”
“I don’t know – just do it.” Jack muttered, worry evident beneath the thinly veiled rage.
Isabella’s nose wrinkled, nodding once as she hauled the heavy pack onto her shoulder, jogging back towards the jeep that had rumbled to a stop with the General. Davis was calm – the cool indifference that only the brass seemed to wear despite the carnage. Despite the look on his face his shoulders were tense, agitation radiating off of him as he threw his hand back to point further up the hill towards the roads the Stukas had bombed.
“You wanted to see me Sir-.” Isabella spoke up, coming to a stop a respectable distance away from the agitated man, drawing his full attention.
“Shepherd says you’re the best Trauma medic.” Davis announced, skipping over the formalities of the greeting – clearly hurried as he glanced over her frame.
“I’m competent, sir.” She countered slowly, unsure of the direction he’d planned on taking.
Despite being in the same camps for weeks now she hadn’t spent much time with the General. Most of her orders came down from Shepherd or O’Neil, she’d only seen Davis in passing when she needed to drop of paperwork specific to the Bloody First.
“More than that – Get in.” He nodded towards the back, “We’re sending you with a team to support Charlie Company.”
Ah – that’d do it. Jack’s anger made more sense now. He despised when she was sent anywhere near the frontlines. He always had – nearly had a heart attack when he’d been notified that they were going to be going to Tunisia. He’d refused to let her out of his sight after Kasserine. Clambering over the tailgate she barely had time to drop into the seat before the driver started pulling away.
Isabella’s attention shifted while the jeep sped over the uneven terrain, blood and smoke reflecting in her eyes as they moved towards the small village. Bodies littering the streets and wood, the details lost to the blur of speed, the driver making no move to slow while they rumbled through the Chaos. Her stomach churning at the thought of any survivors being left behind, her mind whispering the very real possibilities that any one of the allied corpses left in the mud could’ve belonged to someone she knew.
Despite the slowing rattle of guns on the horizon they didn’t encounter resistance. Whether that was just timing or the General and driver’s intention she wasn’t sure, but she could make out a cluster of US Jeeps parked along the road ahead. Eyes narrowing in on familiar bodies as they shifted around the vehicles quickly, her anxiety easing only when she was able to make out their faces.
Pierson was the easiest to spot with his height, Stiles’ glasses standing out despite the distance. Red moved towards Turner, his hands moving as he tried to get the man’s attention. Turner was the first to spot the incoming jeep, waving Red off as his gazed locked in on Davis’s expression.
“CO approaching!” She heard Turner’s warning faintly over the rumble of the jeep, her lips curling lightly at the corners.
Turner saluted Davis as they rolled to a stop, the General returning the gesture as Pierson shot Isabella a hard look. Stepping up so he was standing next to her while keeping in Davis’s line of sight. She met Pierson’s confused expression with a shrug – she didn’t really understand the General’s decision either.
Isabella was not truly military. She was an experienced doctor but she technically was a civilian contractor. Her attention shifted towards Red and the rest of the squad – four pairs of stressed eyes staring back at her in disbelief.
“Alright, listen up.” Davis announced, addressing the group and drawing their attention. “Charlie Company’s under assault at the church. They need ammo, fire and medical support. Send a squad immediately.”
“Sir we’re already stretched pretty thin.” Turner began, his left hand grabbing at his pack – a stressed habit he’d formed early on.
“Then stretch thinner!” Davis snapped leaving no room for negotiation, “Daniels will be looped up with you – ensure she is not damaged.”
Isabella scoffed at the statement, swinging a leg over the back of the jeep she dropped into the dirt next to Pierson, idly swatting his shoulder when he’d attempted to catch her elbow. Quiet jabs muttered under her breath while she stepped around the Sergeant to put distance between herself and Davis. A strangled noise somewhere between a curse and a gasp drew her attention to Red – color once again draining from his face as he looked between her and the jeep.
“S-sir?” Turner questioned, eyes wide as the woman adjusted her pack the familiar irritable twitch to her lips that only seemed to appear when around Army Brass. “A civilian shouldn’t-.”
“I didn’t ask you for your thoughts on the matter, Lieutenant.” Davis scoffed, pointedly ignoring the hard look the doctor gave him. “The doc goes – get on it.”
Isabella’s retort was cut off by the driver reversing the jeep again before turning back towards the camp. The woman snorted, muttering under her breath about the incompetence of generals as Turner and Pierson shared a worried look. Curses falling from their lips before Turner’s attention shifted back towards the tanks.
“Fuck-.”
“We can take the Jeeps, but we’re going to need armored support.” Pierson muttered, the normal irritation that flooded his tones replaced by a thinly veiled anger.
As was typical, Isabella appeared outwardly unbothered by the situation, moving towards the younger squad members with narrowed eyes. Despite the onslaught they appeared unharmed at a glance – dirty and ragged but without any obvious bullet holes or cuts. She swatted Red’s hand away as she checked over the gash in his uniform sleeve – a snag in the material caused by a thorny bush and thankfully not a stray bullet.
“Alright… That’s the plan.” Turner muttered, his attention shifting back towards the tanks as Perez turned away from his team. “Perez! Pierson’ll follow you with the squad.”
“Can’t do it!” Perez shouted, shaking his head as worried eyes shifted towards the small team. “Just got orders from Collins, we’re headed West with the 11th.”
“Goddamnit.”
“Those boys are running out of time.” Pierson muttered, grinding his teeth.
“You’re on your own.” Turner nodded, “Take the jeeps and head out.. Doc-.” The woman’s attention shifted at the nickname, brow arching as she watched Turner’s frame tense. “Keep low ‘n listen to Pierson.”
“I’m not a child, Turner.” She deadpanned, ignoring the chastising look the man sent her. “’n this is hardly my first rodeo.”
“Move out!” Turner ordered, his gaze shifting towards the other men as he stepped back.
“Alright – snap to it.” Pierson ordered, turning his attention around the group of soldiers, “Charlie’s up shit creek and we’re the paddle. Let’s go, let’s go!”
Isabella let out an undignified squawk when Pierson stepped towards her, lightly hooking his hand under her elbow to pull her back away from Stiles’s bruised hand. The woman muttered under her breath but allowed him to lead her towards one of the other jeeps, her expression annoyed but not surprised.
“You’re with me.” He announced bluntly, ushering her into the back of the jeep.
The sarcastic barb died on her tongue, deciding better than antagonizing the man further before she settled in the uncomfortable seat again. She settled behind Aiello as the Technician started the engine, pressing her boot against the other seat in a poorly thought out attempt to try and ease the no doubt miserable drive. She always hated the jeeps – they reminded her of the old farm truck when Paul was just learning to drive.
They were probably just as safe.
“When we approach the church – keep your head down!” Pierson ground out, turning back in the passenger seat to catch the woman’s eye. “You don’t get out of this jeep until I give you the all clear – got it?”
“Pierson – I’m not a green Recruit.” She snapped back, slightly irritable as her gear slammed into her spine each time they went over a particularly rough section of road. “I do not need to be told how to-.“
“Just this once Isabella – fuckin’ listen to me.” He cut her off, a subtle desperation undercutting the anger that echoed over the engines.
Isabella wrinkled her nose lightly, brows furrowing before she heaved a sigh – nodding in confirmation. Pierson’s eyes narrowed briefly – clearly not believing her before he returned the gesture his attention snapping back towards the road when Zussman and Red shouted about retreating Krauts up ahead.
The closer they were to the ruins of the city the more enemy jeeps seemed to cross their path. The soldiers around her firing on the retreating Nazis with mechanical precision, each man seemingly unbothered by the jeeps. Her attention shifted towards Zussman and Red as they swapped places, Red clambering into the back of the jeep to mounted MG.
“Panzer!!” Zussman announced, drawing a string of curses from the other soldiers before all the drivers swerved around the tank.
Isabella muttered under her breath, curses drowned out by the roar of the engine as she slammed into the side of the jeep. After they rounded a corner Pierson shot her a look over his shoulder, rolling his eyes as the woman flipped him off before adjusting her position in the back.
She hated the jeeps.
She hated all military transport, if she was being honest. But jeeps and trucks were among the top two – second only to some of the transport planes. She was beginning to miss the Higgins Boats more and more with each slam against her sore back.
“Almost there, hang on!” Zussman called, his voice barely reaching her over the rattling guns.
Her attention shifted to the steeple rising above the abandoned houses, the smoke of still burning fires choking out the sun and sky above. Echoing rounds of rifles echoing across the splintered cobblestone as they tore around the corners, their attention turning to building across from the church, thick plumes of green smoke bellowing up from a second floor landing.
“Charlie Company’s in that house!” Zussman announced,
“Clear ‘em out!” Aiello shouted over the rumbling of Red’s gun.
The squad rallied around, the jeeps flying up narrow streets as they fired on the surrounding Germans. Wrinkling her nose lightly she kept her leg braces against the seat, one hand locked into place as she watched many of the Germans crumple. Others scrambling to find new areas of cover that would keep them out of line of the roaring jeeps and guns.
“Set up a perimeter by the road!” Pierson ordered, leveling his rifle at a sniper perched in one of the buildings.
Isabella’s attention snapped back to the house, a quiet curse falling from her lips before she hauled herself over the back of the jeep. Boots carrying her across the cobblestone while the rest of the Squad tore through the remaining soldiers. Skidding to a halt around the edge of the wall she kneeled next to the familiar soldier, offering a shrug as he sputtered up at her.
“Doc? Where’d you come from?”
“The jeep.” She announced unhelpfully, her lips pulling into a lopsided smirk while she shrugged her pack onto the ground before pressing onto the wound to stop the bleeding.
“All Clear!” Pierson’s voice drew her attention briefly, knowing there would be a lecture looming on the horizon for her.  “Rally Up!”
“We gotta stop meeting like this.” She heard Murphy joke, drawing an amused snort as she wound the bandages around Keller’s wrist.
“Don’t you be goin’ soft on me, Murphy.” Pierson announced, hauling the Squad Leader up from behind a stack of sandbags.
“I’ll stitch it tonight – but this’ll do for now.” Isabella announced, helping Keller to his feet.
“Well, thanks for showin’ up when you did.”
“Thank General Davis – it was his orders.” Pierson corrected, his attention shifting towards Isabella as she shouldered her pack again. “Ok… It’s too late to press on. Looks like you boys get a reprieve.”
The woman rolled her eyes as Pierson turned back towards them, arms raised sarcastically while he glanced around the exhausted men. Stiles’s eyes widened, color draining from his face as he glanced across the road towards the city center.
“’Scuse me, Sergeant-.”
“Yeah?”
“Isn’t half the Kraut army on the other side of those buildings?” Stiles questioned uneasily, nervously glancing towards the road again. “Shouldn’t we find a better place to set up a perimeter.”
Pierson’s brow arched, taking a lazy couple of steps forward while he followed the Privates’ gaze towards Charlie Company, battered soldiers pulling the truck into a defensive position. Sarcastic brown eyes shifting back towards the terrified younger man pointing towards him as he took a step forward again.
“Sure, Private.” He started, closing the gap. “Why don’t you book us a room at the Ritz?”
“Stiles – gimme a hand, yeah?” Isabella cut in, rolling her eyes at Pierson when he turned away from the graduate.
“Sir -.” Zussman started slowly, helmet tucked under his arm while he stepped towards the Sergeant. “He’s scared is all.”
“Why don’t you worry about your own problems?” Pierson countered, “Like how that side’s gonna hold up tomorrow.”
“I’m right as rain, Sergeant.” Zussman straightened his back, shoulders rolling back to prove a point, eyes narrowing lightly when the elder man just scoffed under his breath.
“Daniels, why don’t you watch him.” The sergeant’s attention turned towards Red, stepping forward so he was standing eye to eye, the elder man ignoring Zussman’s gaze at the back of his head. “Only thing more dangerous than the enemy is pride.”
Isabella fixed Pierson with an annoyed look, her brows furrowing as he ignored her expression, turning back towards the perimeter again. They were going to give her grey hair – it wouldn’t be long before she surpassed Turner at the rate they were going.
“Rest up, boys.” He announced, “We take Marigny at first light.”
“Fun squad, huh?” Keller muttered, trying to swat Stiles’s hand away until Isabella turned her glare on him.
“Shut up, Keller.” She countered, “Who else y’all got?”
“Dunning is in it bad,” Murphy announced, turning his full attention to the woman, “Edwards tried to patch him up but-.”
“Edwards?” she scrunched her nose up, disgruntled blue orbs shifting to the exhausted Sergeant, “Elvin Edwards?”
“Yeah… So his reputation precedes him.”
“That’s certainly a word for it.” She muttered, heading towards the house.
“Hold up Doc, the stares were blown out – we’ll need to rebuil-.”
“I’m not stoppin’ ya.” She called over her shoulder, adjusting the strap of her bag as she glanced up at the splintered remains of the old stairs.
The squad watched as she took in the gnarled wood, idly tapping her fingers against her leg as her eyes followed the debris. The half landing was stripped away leaving only charred wood that had long since stopped burning. The ceilings were higher than she’d expected for the French tavern but weren’t completely unreachable. Wrinkling her nose lightly she took a few steps backwards, eyes glancing towards the cobblestone walls – too smooth to use to climb but just rough enough that her boot wouldn’t slip immediately.
Shifting her weight again she cleared the distance between the wall quickly, hopping up so she could push off of the stone, fingers winding tightly around the charred wood of the beam above. Twisting slightly she kicked her leg up and over before hauling herself to the top of it with remarkable ease despite the pack hanging from her shoulders. Lightly dusting dirt and soot from her pants she rose to her feet, muttering under her breath as she crossed the beam to climb over the banister.
“She always been like that?” Aiello questioned slowly, glancing over to Red’s unsurprised expression.
“She used to read in the hayloft because our folks couldn’t climb up there.” Red admitted, running a hand down the side of his face. “She’s also the one who always climbed the trees to get the kite down.”
Isabella moved through the rubble quickly, eyes searching through the debris and dust for signs of the injured Corporal – already steeling herself against the situation she knew was coming. Elvin Edwards was borderline notorious for his lack of care when patching up most wounds. He’d actually been pulled from the service a couple of years prior due to his lack of ethics when treating the soldiers. She’d been surprised to hear that he was back in the war – but the carnage at Pear Harbor had put the pressure on the government to increase troops and doctors alike.
The Axis powers had made it abundantly clear that they didn’t care for the traditional rules of engagement – Doctors were no longer safe. Which meant those who were good enough to get a pardon from the war typically did not enlist when asked – which left the Army scrambling for students, veterinarians and regular soldiers trained in first aid. She’d crossed paths with more than one man who’s experience before the war was in a butcher shop.
“Hey Dunning-.” Her mask slipped into place as she entered the room – the smell of rot and bile hitting her nose.
Dunning was a younger Corporal – somewhere between Zussman and Aiello in age – with choppy black hair that stuck to his forehead from sweat and grime. His expression was tense with brows pinched as his body fought the infection, skin too pale under the grime. Muttering under her breath she unwrapped the bandages that had been wound around his left calf.
Dropping her bag she set to work on unwrapping the wound, steeling herself against the onslaught she knew was going to hit her the moment the covering was pulled away. The scent of sick filled the air, her expression tightening as she glanced down at the messy inflamed sutures stretching down the man’s shin towards the ankle. Based on the sutures she wasn’t even sure what had caused the wound to start with. It could have been a stray bullet that the doctor had gone looking for but could just have easily been razor wire or a knife wound from a skirmish with a Nazi.
By the time members of the squad had climbed to the upper floors she’d already started to cut the sutures. Expression carefully calm as she cleaned puss away as she moved – silently thanking the stars that Dunning was too far into the fever to be fully aware of what she’d need to do to clean the wound.
“Oh god-.”
“Deal with the Perimeter if you can’t handle it.” Isabella cut Stiles off, “It’s dirty enough up here I don’t need y’all gettin’ sick. I’m sure Pierson ‘n Murphy can find you somethin’ to do if you need it.”
“Jesus Christ, Doc.” Murphy muttered, dropping down by the Corporal’s head. “He said he handled it.”
“Where’s he now?” Isabella questioned, her attention not moving from the wound as she pulled a shard of wood from the wound.
“’round back… He was one of the first ones the Krauts got.”
“Real shame.” Isabella’s tone was sarcastic, an irritable edge breaking through the calm while she flushed the wound.
“It could’ve been a mistake.” Keller tried to defend – the weak attempt not sounding believable even to his own ears.
“Once is a mistake,” Isabella countered, “Edwards’s was denied entry to Virginia’s Medical Collage so he tried his hand at veterinary medicine. He got dumped from there because he couldn’t castrate a goat without bein’ abusive. They never should’ve cycled him back in – a literal butcher would’ve been a better medic.”
“How would you know that?” Aiello questioned, pulling his shirt collar up above his nose.
“I cleaned up after him.”
She offered no more information, finally finishing with the flush of the wound she regarded it with calculating eyes. The infection had spread enough that he was in danger of the wound going necrotic, the early signs of gangrene looming faintly in the fringes of her mind. If she was lucky she’d be able to stabilize him enough and have O’Neil ready a bed for him back at the base – if they weren’t lucky he’d need to amputate the limb.
Her nose wrinkled lightly at the thought – while amputation was not the worst possibility at this stage she still shied away from it. She typically pushed through the healing process whenever and where ever possible even if it increased her workload – but with the infection staring back at her she wasn’t as confident. Not to mention that Davis might send her forward with Alpha and Charlie company tomorrow morning into Marigny and if that happened she’d need to hand off Dunning’s care to another doctor.
Another hour passed before she was confident enough in the treatment and bandages to allow Murphy and his team to move Dunning to the lower level. Giving a set of directions to Jones and Gibson to rotate on when watching over Dunnings. Slowly she worked through the minor injuries of Charlie and Alpha company, thankful that the worst of it was contained to Dunning and Keller as the others were left with minor abrasions.
Isabella placed a kit on the unsteady table next to Keller, dropping a stool next to him as she motioned for him to place his hand on the cloth she’d dumped onto the dusty surface. Her attention already moving to the kit with practiced ease as she started to pull out her freshly sterilized tools.
“I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I’m the one with the doctorate.” She drawled blandly, “I also don’t recall prefacing my statement with ‘if it pleases your highness’.”
Keller grumbled under his breath but complied, moving his hand to place it on the table in front of her. The Squad watched as she went through the motions, methodical and precise as she cleaned the wound and readied the needle. Keller’s muscles slowly uncoiled as she worked, Isabella’s tactics were a stark contrast from Edwards. There was a sting of the needle entering the flesh and the uncomfortable pull as the thread was pulled through but otherwise the procedure was remarkably gentle. Vastly different from Edwards heavy handed methods of addressing the wounds.
“Ok.. wasn’t so bad.” Keller muttered, lightly rubbing his hand after she wound a bandage around the sutures.
“Almost like I’ve done this before.” She quipped dryly, dropping the dirtied tools back into the disinfectant solution. “Imagine that.”
By the time she had finished putting her tools away night had fully descended. The sky lighting up every so often as the AA guns continued to fire, the plans having slowed their onslaught only slightly as the bombing continued. Isabella, Pierson and Murphy has radioed back to the camp – both to set up a transport for Dunning and to confirm orders for the following day.
Isabella wasn’t set to return to the field hospitals until after they’d pushed through Marigny. Something that put the team on edge though she wasn’t particularly bothered by it. After seeing Edwards handy work she was more inclined to want to care for her friends rather than leaving it to another doctor. She wasn’t often possessive of her patients – provided she was handing off care to competent medics and nurses she was typically confident in their care being continued.
“What?!” Red’s exclamation brought her out of her thoughts, attention shifting towards her brother’s stressed frame as he glanced between Murphy and Pierson. “She’s not a soldier!”
“I don’t like it any more than you, Daniels,” Pierson cut him off, “But those are our orders – so we’ll work with what we got.”
“Sir-!”
“End of discussion, Private.” He bit back, cutting the argument off before it could begin he turned back towards Murphy walking out with the other Sergeant to pour over the maps for tomorrow.
“Just chill out, Red.” Isabella sighed, settling onto the floor by her bag, “No use pitchin’ a fit about it. Just gonna get worked up for nothin’.”
“Nothing?” Red questioned, turning on the woman with an exasperated look, “Bella – you’re going to be walking into-.”
“Not the first time, exceedingly unlikely to be the last.” She cut him off, “Now sit down - your pacing is making me dizzy.”
“How many times have you been on the front lines?” Stiles questioned slowly, shifting uncomfortably when Red’s glare shifted to him. “You… don’t seem surprised or afraid by this.”
“I am a little surprised, typically they keep me at the Field Hospitals or have me coming in after the battles are done.” She shrugged, “then again not all that surprised they’re not cycling a different medic up here ‘n it would be stupid to send you into Marigny without one.”
“We have medic training.” Zussman countered, “There’s no need to risk your life.”
“You have first aid training, sure… But humility aside – I am one of the best trauma medics in the European Theater with substantially more training than any one of you.” She shrugged, “Also makes more sense to have you focusing on the enemy than patching someone one.”
She knew it wasn't a comfort - not really. She also knew that there was nothing she could say that would quell the anxiety that settled around the younger men like a cloud. She was not a soldier, she had experience in war but she did not have training in it. Truthfully the looming village smoldering just outside the house filled her with a sense of dread, they were well and truly on their way into the storm now. Tomorrow would set the tone for the weeks to come, the first in a long line that would test their resolve and the friendships they'd formed.
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itstheheebiejeebies · 22 days
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Turner and Pierson wallpapers for @pretty-fly-for-a-sky-guy
if you have a request or want to be tagged for any of my edits send me an ask. don’t repost, reblogs appreciated. all of my edits can be found here
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multi-fandom-imagine · 8 months
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I just found your imagines/fics and I love them!!😍🥺
Could I get a neutral reader x Zussman where the readee comforts a crying Zussman?🥺
A/n: I’m so sorry this took me so long and I love Zussman 👀.
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“It as getting harder each day, know matter how hard you tried, know matter how much of a good medic you were you still lost good people.
Way to many good people.
You did your best not to cry, you did your best to stay strong but you couldn’t. Stepping out the make shift tent you bit back a sob, your hand covering your mouth, tears rolling down your cheeks.
You jolted feeling a hand on your shoulder, quickly wiping your cheeks dry you glanced up spotting Zussman. “I didn’t wake you…did I?”
Zussman let out a snort shaking his head as he took a hit of his cigarette. “Nah! I just came out here to smoke.” Pausing he then sat down beside of you as he grasped your hand gently. “It’s not your fault you know.”
Lips trembling, you rested your head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around your waist tugging you close. “I…”
Rubbing your back, he let you cry into his chest, he would stay by your side. He knew you were scared, hurt, upset with all this war happening around you.
He would be strong for you, he had to be.
“You’re the best damn medic we have. So don’t worry, I’m here for you.”
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superreader30 · 6 months
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vindyuniverse · 7 months
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youtube
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jourquet · 8 months
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come to think of it though, how hand touch is soap's love language. brief caress on ghost's arm before he leaves for a month solo mission. or when he tugs ghost close with the hoodie. how he is completely at ease using them like another layer of speak.
or when he gets angry, distressed or sad, his hand movements turns rough and almost sharp. how one shouldn't look at his face to read his feelings but palms instead.
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searrabbit · 1 year
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today art dump!? im petrified of tumblr i would prefer if you did not send your goons after me 🫡 // art is of heisen-holly au my cousin made w me, red, raccoon..?, and phase one noodle but shes roller blading (skating..?)
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