by dani

Js a girl who likes to write random stuff`

[daniissevered]

I Remember Everything

Pairing: Eugene Roe (Shane Taylor) x fem!reader

Contains: Getting hurt + Angst.

Disclaimer: THIS IS NOT A FANFIC ABOUT THE REAL EUGENE ROE. This is strictly about the character Shane Taylor portrays. I completely respect the real-life Eugene Roe, who served as a medic in WWII over 80 years ago. None of the following is based on him, just the character in the show.

word count: ~1117

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You weren’t sure if signing up as a nurse during the Second World War was your smartest decision, but you didn’t regret it for a second.

Seeing all the men you could help and heal warmed your heart.

You liked helping people. You’d always wanted to be part of something bigger ever since you were little, and now you finally had that chance.

You knew being a nurse came with risks, bombings on the aid station, men going mad from shell shock, and the very real possibility of being shot.

But you didn’t care anymore, because deep down, you knew you were doing the right thing.

Your mom used to tell you that she thought you had a special healing power. Just the touch of your hands could calm someone down, and the way you moved fast to treat wounds made soldiers feel like they’d be back in action the next day.

After a few months of training in Louisiana, you were sent straight to an aid station in Bastogne. A run-down church, now converted into a triage center, became your new home. Your first few nights were sleepless, rats running around your cot, soldiers crying out for their mothers in their sleep. But as the cold weeks went on, you didn’t even get the chance to pray before bed, you were too exhausted.

Eventually, you fell into a routine: waking up, a quick cup of coffee and rations, helping transport wounded soldiers into the church, tending their injuries, and collapsing into sleep.

You didn’t mind the repetition. In this kind of place, change wasn’t always a good thing.

But soon enough, everything did change—after you saw him.

It took you a while to place him, but then it hit you, high school.

He used to sit in front of you in science class. Always quiet, kept to himself, never really social with anyone. You remembered how his voice would sometimes shake when asked a question, but his posture never faltered, always straight, always firm.

You’d only spoken to him once, when he saved you from Otto, the school’s so-called “bully.” Otto had threatened to hurt you if you didn’t get into his car to “take a ride,” but before you could answer, Eugene came running and punched him square in the face, breaking his nose. Otto sped off in his convertible and never bothered you again.

You tried to thank Eugene over and over, but he just smiled weakly and said very little. After that, you found yourself scanning every hallway, every lunch period, just hoping to catch sight of him. You didn’t admit to yourself that you liked him until your friend John asked you to prom, and you realized how disappointed you were that it wasn’t Eugene.

Seeing him now, in uniform, felt surreal. The red cross patch on his shoulder didn’t surprise you. Of course Eugene became a medic, not a soldier. He protected you once, why wouldn’t he protect others?

You set a crate of supplies down on a nearby table and walked over to where he stood in the doorway to the main part of the church, trying to slow your heartbeat.

“Eugene? Eugene Roe?” you said hesitantly, hoping not to startle him.

He looked over, confused at first, but then his expression softened. “Yes, ma’am.”

You smiled. “Do you remember me? We went to the same high school in Louisiana.”

“I sure do. (Name), right?”

You sighed in relief, glad you hadn’t embarrassed yourself. “Yes! I remember you from science class. You saved me from Otto.”

He stared blankly for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle. “Oh, yeah. I remember that.”

He seemed different now. This was the longest conversation you’d ever had with him. He also looked tired, understandably, after everything he must’ve seen.

“How long have you been stationed here?” he asked.

“About a month. You?”

“Same. I’m just picking up supplies for the boys at the front. We’re almost surrounded by the Krauts, and our lines are thinning,” he sighed.

You gave him a sympathetic look. “I can help you find what you need.”

He nodded, smiling faintly. “That’d be great, ma’am.”

You helped Eugene gather everything on his list, morphine, dressings, bandages, and he thanked you before heading back out to the front lines. You watched him go, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

In the weeks that followed, Doc Roe showed up regularly. Sometimes he came in for morphine, other times, he’d come rushing in, rambling about scissors.

Some days, he just appeared out of nowhere, “looking” for more rationed bandages. But you knew there was no way he needed that many supplies. There hadn’t been any new attacks.

Eventually, you had to cut him off. He didn’t argue, he knew he didn’t need them. Not really.

Everything changed the following Sunday.

You woke up around 7 a.m. and stepped out behind the church to toss out a bucket of dirty laundry water.

You didn’t even have time to react before you heard the high-pitched whistle, and then you were on the ground.

Your ears rang. Your vision went white.

The church was sideways. No, you were.

You tried to move, but your legs wouldn’t respond.

Someone was shouting. Maybe. It was hard to tell.

Then, you felt hands on your face, firm and steady.

“(Name).”

Your name.

Said low. Rough. Not panicked, but urgent.

You blinked and tried to focus.

His face appeared above you. Snowflakes caught in his hair. Blood on his neck. His breath misted as he leaned closer.

“Eugene…” you murmured.

“I’ve got you,” he said. “You’re alright.”

You tried to sit up, but pain slammed into your side.

“Don’t move,” he said quickly, hand bracing your shoulder. “Shrapnel. In your side.”

“I’m—” You tried to laugh, but it caught. “I was just tossing out old water.”

“I know.” His voice cracked. Just a little. Enough for you to notice. “Stay with me, (Name).”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you smiled weakly. But your eyelids were heavy.

“No.” His tone sharpened. “Don’t close your eyes. Look at me.”

You did.

And he was terrified.

“You used to sit one row behind me in science,” he said suddenly, voice shaking. “Homeroom. You’d hum to yourself when you thought no one was listening.”

You blinked. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything,” he murmured. “Just, stay awake.”

You tried to smile, but it faded. “Are you going to save me?”

He hesitated.

Then: “Of course I am, (Name). I’d do anything for you.”

Your vision blurred.

The last thing you saw before passing out was his face, a sad smile, tears running down his cheeks.

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(dw ur not dead lmao, just wounded)

[daniissevered]

Can you write one with saiki

Where there's just friendship?

Yes ofccc!! I made up a random prompt where it's like Saiki can't block out your thoughts, but he doesn't even want to. (If that makes sense) This was also written so the reader can be whatever gender y'all want. I hope you guys enjoy!!

(Saiki K x gn friend!reader)

cw: None, lit fluff. Saiki needs a hug bro.

Word count: 576 ──────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────

Cold wind blows against your face as you walk out of your high school. You pull out your phone to check if Saiki texted you—he hasn’t.

As you walk down the street, you start to wonder if he’s even going to show up. You’ve never hung out with him outside of school, and honestly, you can’t imagine he’d want to work on a history project at a café. You know you didn’t.

But to your surprise, the moment you step inside, there he is—pink hair unmistakable, already sitting in a booth, eating coffee jelly.

You let out a small sigh of relief. You did not want to do this project alone. You didn’t even really understand why your teacher thought it made sense to randomly assign countries and have students explain their historical events. Whatever.

Saiki doesn’t look up when you sit across from him, unzipping your backpack and pulling out your laptop. The waiter comes over and you order coffee jelly too, more out of curiosity than anything else.

Saiki glances your way. “Have you finished writing your paragraph on the War of the Emboabas?”

You blink, a little surprised he actually spoke. “Yeah, almost. Brazil’s history is kinda fascinating…” You mumble, half-focused as you finish typing the last sentence.

He just nods.

It’s so strange. Saiki barely ever shows interest in anything, well, except for coffee jelly. He’s always so quiet. But you don’t mind. You kind of like the silence.

You type for a while in silence, only pausing to squint at the assignment prompt or grumble under your breath about how pointless this all is. Saiki doesn’t say anything, but you can feel him glance at your screen now and then. It’s not awkward, just quiet.

Eventually, you lean back in your seat, stretching. “Okay, I think I’m done with my part. Want me to send it to you?”

He nods, typing on his keyboard. “I already formatted it.”

You raise an eyebrow and smile, “Oh. Right, of course.” 

He doesn’t respond.

You look at him for a second. He’s just sitting there, eating coffee jelly like the world isn’t heavy on his back. But you’ve always kind of known that’s not true. And while you’ve always wanted to ask him about it, you knew he probably wouldn’t want to be bothered, and you respected that. 

But still, you say, “Thanks for actually showing up.”

He looks at you, finally. His expression doesn’t change, but his eyes do. Just barely.

For some reason, Saiki has always been able to block out people’s thoughts just enough to focus on his own life. But with you… You’re different. He can’t completely ignore your thoughts. And maybe that’s because he doesn’t want to.

You’re the first—and only—person who’s ever respected that sometimes, he just wants to be left alone. That’s why he showed up today. Not just because you have to finish this assignment. He showed up because when he’s with you, he gets a break.

He thinks for a while about what he’s going to respond with before saying, “You’re not annoying to be around.” 

You blink. “Um. Thanks?”

That was probably the most emotion you were going to be able to get out of him this entire time. You smile to yourself and open your laptop again. “You’re not so bad either.”

Between the two of you and the words just exchanged, you pretend not to notice, and he doesn’t say anything else.  ──────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────

[daniissevered]

Summer Nights

(Mark Scout x Friend!Reader)

Word count: 902

Summary: Mark shows up on your porch late at night, not saying much at first. You don’t push. You just sit with him—and somehow, that’s exactly what he needs.

Cw: Lit nothing this is all fluff but this is my first fic like ever so sorry if it sucks lmaooo Enjoy! ✩ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆ ✩ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆ ✩

For the first time in months, there’s finally no snow on the ground, and flowers are blossoming everywhere. It’s these warm summer nights that make you the most nostalgic for your old childhood. You can just imagine it; your mom cooking blueberry pie in the kitchen, your younger brother running around in the front yard with his toys, and your dad sitting in the chair on the front porch, watching him. 

You decide to sit down in that same chair and watch the sky turn from a light blue into a dusky purple and pink. Taking a sip of the chamomile tea you made, you relax into the chair and a feeling of pride washes over you–the fact that you were able to hold up the fort even after dad died and your brother went off to college only a few years after you graduated. Now it’s just you and your mom left.

As you watch the clouds roll by, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You sigh, but pick up. “Hello?”

“Hey, (Name). Just calling to let you know I’ve approved your day off tomorrow. Sarah will cover your shift,” Charlie says, his voice crackling over bad Wi-Fi.

Relief floods through you. You’ll finally have a day to care for your mom, whose health seems to be getting worse by the day.

“Oh, thank goodness. Thanks for letting me know.”

You and Charlie exchange a few more words before hanging up. You feel calmer than you have all day.

Working as a barista was never your dream job, but it’s steady and low-pressure. Lately, though, the constant need to take time off for your mom has made it harder to keep up—and the stress has been piling on.

The sky is almost completely dark now, stars just starting to come out, so you decide to go back inside to the kitchen. As you put your dishes away, you hear a car coming into the driveway next door. 

Mark Scout. 

You glance out the window to see Mark slowly getting out of his car. His hands are buried in his coat pockets, and his shoulders seem tight, like he’s trying to protect himself from something. He doesn’t head toward his door, though. Instead, he stands still at the edge of your lawn, just staring ahead.

Then, he walks up your porch steps.

You freeze, watching as he lowers himself onto the chair across from the one you were just sitting in. He doesn’t knock. Doesn’t say anything.

Just sits there.

You hesitate for a moment before quietly opening the front door. The night air brushes against your skin. “Mark?”

He doesn’t look at you right away. When he does, his eyes are red-rimmed, glassy. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly, voice low. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Your heart aches at the way he says it—not desperate or dramatic, but lost. A feeling you know all too well. 

“Devon’s out of town for the weekend. I thought of calling her, but I know she needs a break from me. I just… I didn’t want to be alone tonight.” As he says this, you hear his voice break at the last sentence, and you wonder if he’s about to cry. You and Mark have been friends ever since he first moved in 2 years ago. You would consider him to be one of your closest friends, but he’s never been this vulnerable in front of you.  

You step outside and sit back in your chair across from him. You take a small breath before saying, “You’re not alone. You have me”

For a while, neither of you say anything. The crickets chirp in the bushes. A breeze picks up, rustling the trees above. Mark presses his palms together, and his eyes seem to look everywhere but at you. But none of this feels awkward. It almost feels familiar, like you guys have been doing this since you first met. 

The silence between the two of you is oddly comforting. Mark has always been someone you looked up to, knowing how much he’s been through, especially with him being severed and all. You don’t fully agree with his logic of working for Lumon, but his strength to at least keep going inspires you.

“I hate this time of year,” he says eventually. “It’s supposed to be warm and beautiful, but all it does is remind me of everything I’ve lost.”

You don’t have anything perfect to respond with. But you nod. “Yeah. Me too.” 

His head turns toward you slightly. “How’s your mom?”

You swallow, surprised he even remembered. “Not great. I got tomorrow off to take her to a doctor’s appointment.”

Mark lets out a breath—half-sigh, half-laugh. “So we’re both falling apart a little, huh?”

You smile softly, blinking back tears. “A little.”

And then he says it. So quietly, you almost miss it: “Thank you… for being someone I could turn to.”

You shift slightly, resting your elbow on the armrest and leaning toward him just a little. “Anytime, Mark. Really.”

He looks at you. Not past you. Not through you. Just at you.

“You wanna stay a little while?” you ask.

He nods.

So you both sit there, the silence almost comforting as you both look up at the sky and watch the stars. Neither of you are okay, but somehow, you both know neither of you has to be right now.

[daniissevered]

HI GUYS!!

Hey guys! This is my first time making a Tumblr account, so bear with me. I'm mostly going to be posting Fanfics or one-shots, hopefully. Since school is out now and I have a full summer ahead of me, which consists of nothing, why not start writing fics?

Here is a list of people/fandoms I will be writing for (this list is definitely not fixed).

Mark Scout (Severance)

Connor (Detroit: Become Human)

Saiki K (The disastrous life of Saiki K)

A variety of Harry Potter characters (Neville, Ron, Harry, etc)

There will def be more lmao

Hopefully I will stay consistent and tell me if you guys want me to write anything specific (give prompts guys!). I write fluff, js like wholesome stuff, but I might also try smut (not too explicit though- js like soft).