Screaming, Shaking, Crying, Rolling On The Ground.

Screaming, shaking, crying, rolling on the ground.

Thanks to the notification I was able to re-read the amazing first part AND have an absolutely PERFECT ending to it as well, I am so so grateful!

The ending was a masterpiece! Of course it would be Frank setting the reader and Klinger up to something like putting up a banner. Knowing his character, he probably thought it would be beneath him, so he got someone else to do it XD

And the detail near the end when the reader expects Hawkeye to joke but he just flat out CONFESSES??? HELLO??? AWOOGA.

Hi, I was just wondering if you're planning to do a part 2 for the Hawkeye story where the reader falls and gets hurt?

Hey! So, I was looking over that fic and realized that I promised a part two like, three years ago *face palms*. You are one of the many, many people who have asked me, anon and off, to write the second part of the story. So here we are! The long awaited part two of Falling. Enjoy <3

Falling (part 2)

Warning: description of injury, mention of surgery, cannon typical swearing, brief intense kiss

Time passed by without your notice. You existed in a haze, in and out of sleep as people existed around you, caring for your injuries. The pain that had been absent at first hit you like a bomb. You had a vague memory of screaming before they put you under, begging for the pain to end.

Three nails or four? You couldn't remember. Once, in the blurred existence of your concussion, you heard someone say five nails. Five nails buried deep within your thigh, extricated one by one in a three hour surgery. Twenty five stiches, that you knew for sure. You had asked Margaret once when you were lucid, watching as she changed your bandage with the discreetness of an expert nurse.

"Hawkeye did a great job," she assured you, with a kindness you didn't expect but gratefully accepted. "You'll barely have a scar."

Hawkeye had been there almost constantly. You didn't have to be awake to feel his presence. His presence felt like warm sunshine on a spring morning. You always felt safer, stronger, when he was around. If you had been in your right mind, you would have been embarrassed and ashamed because of his attention. But in your weakened state, you yielded to the attention.

At night, when you struggled to sleep from the pounding in your head, his fingers would card through your hair until you drifted off. He always whispered to you, careful to keep the noise around you lowered as you suffered through your concussion. He told you stories of his dad and things he would do as a boy. Some things were funny, some were sad. When you were awake you would thank him without meeting his eyes. And when you were resting, he would hold your hand. Once, you cautiously squeezed his finger, heart jumping when he squeezed them back.

You recovered over time, until you were well enough to sit in bed and eat the small meals that the nurses brought to you. Radar even brought you a piece of chocolate, and Klinger drove to a meadow three miles outside of camp just to pick you a bunch of wild flowers to put by your bed. Your vision was still blurry, so sometimes B.J. would read to you. Potter ensured that a screen was put up around your bed so that you could have privacy from the wounded soldiers. It felt nice to be cared for. But the best thing was being able to pretend, just for a while, that Hawkeye cared for you the most.

You were testing out your eyesight by trying to read one of Radar's bold printed comics when the sound of an argument burst into the post-op wing. It was Hawkeye and Frank.

"It's not my fault she couldn't keep her balance, Klinger's the one who,"

"Klinger didn't do one damn thing to make her fall, Frank. You were the one who told them to go up there."

"So?!" Frank's voice squeaked. "What should I have done, hang the banner myself?" He scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."

Footsteps sounded, heading towards your screened in bed. You dropped the comic book.

"Go near her and I'll hang you by your toes, Frank. She's my patient and I gave orders for no visitors."

That wasn't exactly true. When Hawkeye said no visitors he really meant no Frank.

"You can't scare me." Frank sneered. "You're just using her little fall as an excuse to have her all to myself. You can't fool me, taking all the night post-op shifts so you can be with her."

Your heart stopped and stomach twisted. Your fingers fisted the blanket, straining to hear more.

"Shut up, Frank." Hawkeye's tone was even and deadly.

Frank scoffed again. "With the way she looks at you, she probably fell just to get your attention."

"Leave. Now."

Frank was silent. Maybe he had finally noticed the dangerous edge in Hawkeye's voice. You couldn't breathe. The silence filled the room, their words thickening the air.

Finally, without saying a word, the footsteps turned and walked away, followed by an angry banging against the swinging doors as Frank left post-op.

The silence stayed thick and overwhelming. You looked down, feeling self-conscious in the big shirt you were wearing. Some of the buttons were undone. You fiddled with them, shaky fingers trying vainly to button the flap closed. Tears of embarrassment began to make hot trails down your face.

Hawkeye entered your little makeshift room. You could feel his gaze on you.

"I need to go." You whispered, voice cracking. "Back to my tent, away from here."

"You're not ready yet. Your stitches,"

"I'll take care of them myself." You dropped the buttons and tried to wipe your tears away. "Please let me go."

"I can't."

"Please."

The cot squeaked as Hawkeye sat down beside you. You dared to look up at him, surprised to find an expression on his face you didn't understand.

Moving slowly, Hawkeye reached out to cradle the side of your face. It was an action he had done many times when he thought you were sleeping. He leaned forward. Before you had time to think your lips touched and time stopped.

Hawkeye kissed you deeply, earnestly, with a love you had never wanted and desperately craved. Shock melted into relief. Your hands found his hair while his thumbs wiped the tears off your face, kissing him as if his taste was your air. He leaned against you, hands sliding down to your waist.

You gasped softly into his mouth as he eased you back onto the bed, breaking the kiss as your thigh gave a painful throb.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" Hawkeye hovered over you, blue eyes full of concern.

You nodded, hands sliding down to rest on his shoulders. "Are you just trying to make me feel better?"

A soft smile softened his face. "I have many layers of intention."

"What does that mean?" You asked, expecting a joke.

"I love you."

You blinked, your fingers freezing against his shirt.

Hawkeye nodded, smile widening into a grin. "I do, sweetheart. I love you."

Slowly, you smiled back. "I love you too."

"Really?" Hawkeye looked as if he had just won the lottery, his grin making your heart beat hard and fast. "Well then," his grip tightened on your waist. "Next time you want to get my attention, maybe don't fall off a support beam. Deal?"

You blushed and nodded, smiling into another kiss.

And that was the day you and Hawkeye fell for each other.

Fanfic Masterlist

Hello dear friends! ❤🤍🖤💚

🍉I am Mahmoud Ayyad, a Palestinian from the besieged and destroyed Gaza 😭😭, coming from an extended family of young children, women and elderly people ❤❤ who have been suffering😭😭 for 300 difficult days from an aggressive war.

Our lives are harsh because we lack all the basic necessities of life. Everything has become scarce and unattainable. There is no food, no water, no medicine.

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SOMETHIN' STUPID

C.Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader w.c 2.1k

Summary: after 8 months of traveling with the well feared ghoul, you're worried you might have misinterpreted your long term companionship.

Warnings: use of nicknames(darlin', sweetheart, doll) fluff

A/N: I was deeply inspired to write this while listening to Frank and Nancy Sinatra's "something stupid". I included the song if anyone wants to listen along while reading! Sorry if this is literal trash yall, this is my first time writing anything in almost 2.5 years.

It was nice in Filly. A quaint little camp, yet highly functional. Each person in there had a job ordered by the gracious Ma June. Yours happened to be a bartender in the middle of town. You were grateful, it was one of the highest paying jobs due to frequent tourism of anyone who passed by the camp, along with the daily customers who would rather lose a limb than not get their daily drink. It was safe -despite being a bar you had multiple customers looking out for your safety-  busy and entertaining. You liked it a lot. It helped distract you when your well-feared companion was out on his own. Any time away from him left you craving his presence more and more. You always waited like a lost dog for him; desperate, ready to roll over and show your belly for any affection he might give. Part of you hoped that he never knew about your silly little “crush” on him, worried that it would ruin the peace you've made between the both of you, and part of you begged inside for him to notice the way you looked at him. 

He developed a whole new sense of kindness, appreciation, and protectiveness towards you; after almost 8 months of tension and brooding. It didn't go unnoticed by you. It gave you a false sense of hope that it meant something more, that maybe he felt the same way; but you kept those feelings buried deep in fear of rejection from what's come to be your best friend in the immortally cruel world. 

It was almost 10:30 at night, it hadn't been an overly busy day. No newcomers, just the usual customers. You sighed, you weren't supposed to clock out for another 2 hours and you dreaded the time you had left. Not because you wanted to stop working, no, but because you hated going home without Cooper being there. A house isn't four walls and a decaying roof to you, it was the barbarous ghoul you'd come to love. 

You were faced away from the counter, wiping down glasses and stocking them in their designated places for tomorrow's opener. A scratchy voice, thick with a southern drawl spoke up behind you, “Ya think this fella can get a drink darlin’?” You almost jumped in excitement. Your smile beaming with glee, you ran around the counter to give him a hug. You expected him to push you off, he had many times before, but he didn't. He reciprocated it lightly, his arm wrapping around the back of your waist.. 

“Someones happy to see me, huh?” he chuckled looking at you as you released the hold you had on him, walking back to your spot behind the counter. You grabbed a glass behind you and a top shelf bourbon you know he’d appreciate, “You're my only friend and you've been gone for two weeks, how could I not? Nobody to talk to besides Ma and these drunken slobs.” He gave a genuine laugh at that. You had to stop yourself from blushing, doing your best to ignore the familiar warmth that was rising up your neck. His laugh was pretty. Everything about him is pretty, you thought. 

You placed the glass in front of him, “Hope you  like it, somethin’ new but i'm sure you’ve already tried it sometime during your wandering.” A small smile pulls at the corner of his lips, “Thanks doll.” You grab more glasses from the sink and work on mindlessly wiping them down. The rugged ghoul lets out a moan after his first sip. Good choice, you think, be sure to get that for him more often. You finish putting away the last glass and turn back to the serving counter, finding him staring at you. You raised a brow at his antics. What you didn't know was that he was festering inside. There was an incredibly close call during the last bounty, in short, a large gun threatened the strength of his cranium. He fought his way out, he always did, but now he finally had a reason to not give up, to not submit no matter how hard things got and that reason would stay with him for as long as you were alive. The cordial startle of your voice brought him out of his thoughts, “You gonna stay tonight?” Cooper breaks eye contact with you and sets his now empty glass on the counter; you refill it per his silent request. 

“Think I am. Got a bunch-ah bounties turned in, gotta wait till tomorrow to get the caps from Ma,” he says as he puts the glass to his chapped lips, downing his second drink in one gulp. He hissed through his teeth at the burn while staring at the glass as if he were looking for the lable. You laugh at the sound, “Thought you'd be used to the burn by now after all these years.” You grab his glass and set it in the sink, leaving it for one of your coworkers to deal with. 

“Why don’t I clock out and we finish this bottle at home?” you nodded your head to the gold liquid on the counter. He gave a simple nod, his hat covering the view of his eyes for a split second, “sounds like a good idea sweetheart.” You smile at his agreement. You walk behind the wall that the glasses sat delicately on, finding the notebook that Ma June used to keep track of clock ins and outs of her employees. You wrote down your clock out time, 10:42, next to your clock in time that sat after your name from where you wrote it earlier in the day. On your way of walking behind the counter you grab the bottle and gesture with your head for Cooper to follow. 

It was less than a 3 minute walk to your shared home. No, you two were not in a romantic relationship, you guys hadn't even fooled around even once in your time in the wastelands alone together. You were just the only person Cooper trusted sleeping next to when he eventually did need rest, and you the same. 

The moment you stepped in the front door, urgently followed by the ghoul, he dropped his duster and hat to the floor, letting his other accessories follow in suit leaving him in his classic pinstripe jeans and worn down button up. You turned around and laughed at his actions, “what was that about?” 

“Y’Know sometimes I get tired of these fuckin’ things, heavy ‘n’ hot, don’t like ‘em most of the time,” he sat on the arm of the couch in the process of taking off his boots. His admittance was laughable, the most feared ghoul in the southern wastelands hated his own character design. He let out a rough groan as he got the last boot off, leaning back and flopping onto the seats of the couch, his lower half of his legs dangling off the arm of the couch where he once sat. You took your own shoes off, placing yours and his discarded boots next to the front door. You made your way to the worn velvet couch to sit next to him, your thigh accidentally touching the top of his head as you sat, you mumbled a quick “sorry” and scooted farther to your now designated side. 

He hummed with his eyes closed, “ya got any more of that bourbon?” The bottle still in your hand you pop off the top and take a deep swig of it. You shiver as it burns its way down your throat and instantly warms your chest. 

“Yep,” and you plopped the bottle on his chest, holding it so it wouldn't fall and spill until his hands replaced yours. His calloused fingers graced yours and a spark of warmth ignited in your hand at the contact. He sat himself up slowly next to you, taking a swig of his own from the bottle. 

“I got something from a trader last week, I think you’ll like it,” you excitedly say, breaking the short lived silence. He watched with curiosity as you stood hurriedly from the couch and made your way to the broken down kitchen. Grabbing the item off the counter with a grin on your face you made your way back to Cooper. 

“No shit doll, where’d ya get this?” he says astounded as he grabbed the item from your hands. It was an old radio. He switched it on and crooked a smile as it cracked to life, a low tune of Things by Bobby Darin played. He closed his eyes and put it close to his ear. You smiled at his contentment, “You can turn it up y’know? I dont think anyones gonna hear it or care if they do.” Pulling from his ear and to his lap, he did as you said. The song crackling loudly through the speakers but still eligible enough to hear the lyrics clearly. You reach to gently grab the radio from his hands, setting it on the almost broken coffee table in front of you two. 

Standing up, you turn to him and reach out a hand, “Just one dance?” You did your best to hold your shaking hand still, the fear of rejection in any way from him made you want to hurl. But you had to ask for this, for the contentment between the two of you could end much quicker than it took to build. You had to let him know how you felt before the moment was too late. If anything the wastelands taught you, it was to not take the good things for granted. Don't waste time on enjoying them, because you may not get to experience that kind of joy for a long while. 

He looked up at you from his seated position, his hazel eyes hooded from the exhaustion that was finally starting to settle in. To another great surprise, he took his hand in yours and stood in front of you. 

“Only for you, darlin’,” he said suavely. His charm made your heart thump, and it was him who closed the distance between you two. Taking a hand of yours in his while his other sat gently on your waist, you instinctually set your other hand on the upper portion of his chest, just below where his collar bones sat. 

He began to sway and you followed in suit, letting the music guide the pace of your sway. He stared down into your eyes, they burned into you in the best ways. Your heart fluttered non-stop, this was something you couldn't have even dreamed of. Something that 8 months ago you would have laughed at the idea of. Resting your head on his chest, his chin rested upon the top of your head. You closed your eyes and tried focusing on the sound of his heartbeat, wondering if it beats any differently than yours, or beats at all. It's fast, faster than yours and you wonder if it's just part of the ghoulification or if he's as nervous as you are. 

“I love you, Coop…” you trail before you can even process what you're saying and your eyes shoot open. His movements stop and you stop with them, your palms become sweaty, terrified that you had royally fucked up. He lifts his head and you do so, scared to look up at him. He can tell. His rough hand reaches under your chin and cups your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. A new song plays in the background but you're unable to tell which one it is, the pounding of your heart becoming deafening in your ears. 

“Why ya always gotta say somethin’ stupid huh, sweetheart?” His tone is anything but condescending, which you are relieved about. His eyes continue to bore into yours, but they're soft, they didn't hold their usual stiffness. You break his stare and shrug apprehensively, not brave enough to give a verbal answer. You're brought back to his attention with a startle when he directs your face towards his once again, pressing his dry lips to yours in a hurried rush. You don't have enough time to react and kiss back before he pulls away, leaving you in a euphoric daze. 

“The feeling's mutual,” he rumbles as his sway starts up again, his hands going back to their original positions around you. Closing your eyes once again you allow yourself to be completely enveloped in his warmth. 

The bombs could drop again and even that couldn't ruin this moment for you. 

Slashers! HC S/O nearly killed by a victim

Slashers!Sinclair brothers x gn!reader

Includes Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: max angst, lots of self deprecating thoughts from the slashers, blood, mentions of gore, lots of violence, happy ending (you survive!)

Bo Sinclair

You weren’t supposed to be at the house, Bo was sure you were out getting groceries, you told him you were

You placed the several brown bags you could carry from the pickup onto the kitchen counter, used to the silence that filled the dimly lit home

Turning to make your way back outside, you froze in your spot when merely a few yards away stood a man, face twisted in agony, blood covering the lower portion of his body, it looked like he’d been stabbed by Vincent’s sheers, so why was he upstairs?

“You’re one of them”

The man seemed to only grow in size from the sheer mass of his clear anger, chest puffing to reveal a stutter in his breath, as if he was using borrowed time

You weren’t sure if saying anything would help, you were bringing in groceries, of course you were one of them, there was no way to free yourself from this situation

Glancing over at the knife block, wide eyes switched back to the man who had seen the subtle movement, brows furrowing, and then he charged

“They killed my girlfriend!”

The stranger snarled as he gained on you, hands reaching out to grab your arm, your neck, whenever he could reach in his rage fueled attack

Slipping on your heel to get to the knives, the recently mopped floor proved to be a disadvantage, only giving the man a better angle to grab the collar of the back of your shirt, pulling it back, before slamming you into one of the counters

The impact against your stomach wasn’t pleasant, you could feel the bruise already forming as you were dragged back, grabbing anything you could as pitiful noises left your lips

Throwing the salt and pepper shakers, a clean plate, anything at him you could get your hands on, nothing seemed to faze him as you threw you against the adjacent cabinets

Forehead slamming into the sharp edge of wood, red filled your already blurring vision, your weak yelp for anyone nearby that could help fell deaf on the empty corridors of the house, where the hell were the guys?

“You sick bitch, you’re all sick”

The man spat in your face, spit hitting your cheek as he did so, then he was once again lifting you from where he’d tossed you like a rag doll, this time letting your body fall rather limply to the tiled floor

“You’ll get what’s coming to you, if it’s the last thing I do”

You could hear the slight motion of the man reaching over your body, plucking a knife from the block a few feet away and kneeling over your aching body

His legs were at either side of your hips, arms raised high as he didn’t think twice before lowering the weapon

A shout echoed from the near distance, heavy footsteps on the wooden floor, in a last ditch effort with all the remaining strength to could muster, you lifted a knee to the mans crotch, resulting in a deep howl of pain, and a burning sensation as the knife landed deep in your shoulder

Then the man was off of you, ripped from your body by someone far stronger, the shouting picked up again, the enraged, bellowing noises bouncing off the walls as you figured the escaped victim was being rightfully dealt with

Right as the man’s shadow was gone, another more broad figure appeared over you, this time at the side of your injured body.

“Oh baby, oh fuck,” It was Bo’s voice, his tones drawl making your heart flutter, or was that the stab wound? It felt as if the room was spinning in its axis, turned upside down and steeping your body in darkness, “Shit, I thought ya were outta the house.”

Vincent was hovering in the distance, gauging the wound from the distance he stood before rushing off the gather the proper items to best help you. Bo was at a loss, wanting to lean down while also warning himself that his touch would only cause more pain. Why were you home? Why didn’t he check the house first? Why did he just assume you would be out for hours? This was his fault, he left you vulnerable and alone, in a place he knew could bs unsafe when they brought, “guests”, home. Your weak whine of his name drove his stomach to lurch forward, bile trying to climb him throat, body hot to the touch with panic and his eyes swam with guilt.

“I’ve got ya now, nothin’ll hurt ya anymore,” Bo fell on his ass to get closer to you, lifting your upper body carefully before laying it steadily in his lap. Your pained wince at being moved to any extent shot right through the man’s heart, his body folding over yours slightly, almost as if trying to protect what was left of you from the outside world. Your delicate cries as blood seeped through your clothes only drew the man further from rationally, mind racing at what he would do to the dead body mere feet away when he was done tending to you, “Vincent! Get yur ass in here!”

“I’m here baby, don’t ya worry, I’ve got ya.”

Vincent Sinclair

You were never involved with the victims, as much as Vincent trusted you, he didn’t trust any stranger within a mile of Ambrose, the thought of someone full of fear or anger anywhere in your vicinity made his skin crawl beneath his usual wool sweaters

Luckily for the town over, there weren’t three deranged brothers causing havoc, in fact it was odd being in a populated area where no one even knew of Ambrose’s happenings, or the men beneath it

So when a van full of curious, college aged boys came strolling through the, “abandoned”, streets, you had made the choice to go out for the day, visit that nearby town where Vincent knew you would be safe for the most part

Which lead to the present, where you were calmly walking back to Ambrose along the two lane, quiet, wooded backroad, wicker basket in hand with various items you deemed interesting enough to take back

Although the snap of a branch caught your ear, a man no older than you stumbling along the path, if the splatters of blood along his body weren’t an indicator of where he’d left, the thick globs of wax painting his left arm did

“Miss? Fuck, help me!”

The man called to you, clearly desperate in his current predicament, there wasn’t much you could do, you didn’t have a cellphone, you’d already been walking for a half mile, what could you possibly be able to help him with?

“There’s these crazy guys that tried to kill me! We need to get away from here!”

Before you could even summon a response, the staggering stranger that had since gotten closer paused, face pursing, lips tight as a look of realization crossed his face

“Your face, there were drawings of your face in that basement”

“I don’t know what you mean, here, let’s-“

You didn’t get much of a sentence out before the man was pushing you to the ground, intentions clear as he kneeled above you, planting your lower body to the gravel side of the road before punching aimlessly at your face

“Please-“

“You’re with those sick bastards aren’t you? You must be fucked in the head too, after all the bodies I saw!”

The punches kept landing, your nose surely broken by the onslaught, blood draining down your jaw, by your ears, into your mouth

The heavy smell of iron palette-able as another swift hit was served to your mouth, bottom lip busting open with thick, red spilling out

The man just kept screaming in your face, spit flying as he did so, it was as if his rage fueled attack would never cease, maybe he hadn’t gotten hurt all that much and his adrenaline was through the roof

Either way it was as if the beating was only getting worse as the minutes ticked by, you felt lucky he didn’t have an actual weapon on his person

As if some kind of saving grace had heard you, the rumbling of what sounded like a familiar old pickup roared in the distance, getting louder by the second

Right as the shriek of tires echoed across the otherwise silent road, your tired eyelids fluttered shut, allowing the all consuming haze to take its place in your body

Some time later

“How the hell should I know when she’s gon’ wake up?” That voice was familiar, the low timbre of an accent you knew all too well. It was buzzing through your head, and although you were thankful to even be here to listen to it, there was one thing you wished was present as well.

“Hey, her eyes are opening,” And that’s when you heard the shuffling, heavy boots on a concrete floor, when Bo’s agitated voice once again striking your growing headache, “alright, alright! I’m goin’.”

An all too warm, fuzzy feeling filled your chest when Vincent’s head popped into view, hair tied back loosely with little bits of wax here and there. Although lumbering over you, his movements were cautious, slow and steady as you could make out his eyes scanning your form meticulously. It felt as though you were one of his pieces of artwork, carefully watched over to make sure you wouldn’t melt.

“Vince, are you okay?” Your whisper of a question caused the man’s head to drop into the crook of your neck, whether overwhelmed or still worried it just seemed he needed a moment to process all that had happened. It was only minutes ago you were still out cold, laying on one of his work tables as Bo stood with a disapproving look. Art supplies strewn, chairs overturned, even the most delicate wax sculptures he’d done were crumbled on the floor. The man hadn’t been able to contain the absolute ice that ran through his veins upon seeing Lester carrying your lifeless form into the house, especially considering he didn’t even know if you were still alive.

Large, rough hands shaking like a kitten, the man leaned back to run his fingers over the side of your injured face, the touch gentle, barely there. The soft tilt of his head told you he was fine, seemingly still stressing about your current state. As you became more aware of your surroundings, you realized one of Vincent’s wood sweaters covered a portion of your upper body, like a makeshift blanket. Fingers weakly knocking into his elbow, the masked man took notice and immediately intertwined them with his, palm warm against yours. His free hand reached up to caress your jaw, without words but as if to say,

‘You’re safe now.’

Lester Sinclair

Lester wasn’t ever particularly involved in the murders, in fact he felt his best work was cleaning up the eventual aftermath

That being said, you were usually by his side at all hours, both day and night, keeping him and Jonsey company

“Be right back darlin’”

Lester flashed a toothy grin in your direction, sitting on the hood of the trunk while he hoisted a large, dead dead over his shoulder

This had been majority of the day so far, you enjoying the shady sun while he hauled carcasses of roadkill over to the designated dump sight

“I’ll stay right here!”

You chuckle, watching the red dusting over his ears fade as he continued to walk further down the slope

Glancing down to where Jonsey was laying, you did a double take when the little lady had somewhere vanished, head whipping side to side, yes she was an independent dog but that doesn’t mean you didn’t worry sometimes

Barking in the distance cut through your immediate panic, somewhere off to the left in the densely wooded forest

“Jonsey?”

You called as you hopped off the cars hood, jogging towards the sounds origin as it only continued

It didn’t sound like her normal bark though, it was vicious, angry, maybe she’d run into a squirrel or other wild animal of some kind that had gotten her all up in action

“There you are girl!”

You exclaimed as your turn around the tree revealed the dog, facing away from you, as your eyes left the furry creature it landed on a man not much older than you, standing before you and Jonsey with a knife in hand

“Sorry about my dog, she can be overly cautious”

You tried to reason, deflecting from the chance he may know more than you hoped, and unfortunately his fist only clenched further around the blades handle, face pulled in a snarl

“Yeah, the same dog I saw in that auto shop, with that guy who killed my girlfriend”

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re here to do-“

Before you could even finish your statement he was already on you, knocking you back with a heavy hand before slashing towards your stomach

Thankfully you were able to dodge the first swing, although he wasn’t stopping anytime soon, in fact your fear only seemed to spur him on as he swung again, and again

Unfortunately he had backed you into a tree, another aim at your body immediately ripping through your (Lester’s) shirt, blood leaking from ripped skin, another across your forehead, red spilling into your waterline as your thunderous scream of Lester’s name left your quivering lips

“I didn’t kill your girlfriend”

“But you’re chummy with the bastard that did”

His final strike ended with him aiming down and up, the smooth surface of the knife gliding into your skin like butter, the sob it ripped from you was pitiful, as was the way you fell to your knees

Then a gunshot rang out

“Darlin’?” There stood Lester, rusty, old shotgun in hand that was still aimed at the now fallen body, lowering it too glance over at you in panic. His rushed footfall crunched leaves, his quick footing hit a root and nearly tripping him if his objective wasn’t so focused on. Dropping to your level, the man held his hands to where you were gripping your wrist.

“Show me, how bad is it?” The concern and fear tainting his voice was almost painful to hear, pulling your palms away to reveal a river of crimson. Hissing as he lifted the edge of the shirt you had stolen from him this morning, to reveal a bloody but shallow wound. It looked as if the guy had missed, only slicing at your side, not your gut as he most likely planned.

“Hurts,” you mumble as your body begins to try and lose consciousness, the adrenaline now leaving your system. Lester caught on, leaning you into him before lifting you against his slim body, careful to not press into any of your injuries, “Lester”.

“I know honey, I’ll get ya all patched up, don’t ya worry.” The man shouldered your weight, holding a tough facade despite the way his heart was slowly crumbling inside his chest cavity. If he made it one second later, you could’ve been gone forever. The thought felt like ice water poured over his head, sinking into his veins. Next time he would have to watch over you better, keep you safer. No, there wouldn’t be a next time, he would make sure no one could even attempt to get near you.

“Ain’t ever gonna let that happen again”

If y’all would like to see other parts of this either others slashers list their names in the comments or in my inbox!

As always requests are always open!

You know, this kind of date when you draw each other but he's a pro and you.... just having fun :D

Hello !!🍉🍉

I am Ahmed from Gaza. I used to have a pharmacy in the north of the Strip, but unfortunately, I lost it due to the bombing. Under difficult circumstances, I had to move with my family from the north to the south, and we settled in Deir al-Balah.

Despite the challenges, I tried to rebuild my life, so I opened a simple pharmacy in a tent. This pharmacy contains some basic medicines, but it is far from meeting the needs of the people here.

I am now in dire need of support to secure my needs and the needs of my children. My first goal is to raise $1,000 to continue providing health services in these difficult circumstances.

I hope that everyone will donate and contribute to supporting this humanitarian project. Every support, no matter how small, will have a great impact in improving the lives of my family and providing health care to the community here.

You can donate through this link 🇵🇸🇵🇸: https://gofund.me/2a408c6f

Thank you very much🙏🏻❤️❤️

As I've stated in my previous posts, even if you don't have the money to donate (for example, 5$ in my, czech, currency is not a small sum of money, but sharing and uplifting palestinian voices, so that they can reach people who can and want to donate, is very important too.