Discover Top Posts Tagged with #robert timothy bryan

Hello! I'm so glad to have stumbled on your blog! I'd like to request anything for Doc Bryan of GenKill please. I can and will wait forever for any Doc content 😅 I saw your prompt list and I think

1. I fucking hate everyone. But you, you’re the only person I don’t hate.

would suit him quite well HAHA but prompt number 3 and prompt number 9 would be quite sweet too 😁 anyway, anything you write I will gratefully read and love. Thanks so much!

Life Vest (Doc Bryan x GN!Reader)

Requested by: anon

Prompt: #1 - I fucking hate everyone. But you, you're the only person I don't hate.

Summary: You're a Corpsman with the Recon Marines, working alongside doc Bryan. After one tough afternoon, you two finally (somewhat ;)) talk.

Taglist: in my bio

Warnings: child's death although it doesn't actually happen in this fic

A/N: I don't study medicine so I might have fucked up some facts about certain things so apologies if I did. Thank you for your request!

.

With every passing second, more and more locals are appearing, surrounding the group of Marines in the middle of some Iraqi town almost none of them know how to actually pronounce. From behind the cornerns of ruins of old buildings, out of the beaten doors of houses that hadn't been bombed yet, from small huts, children, women, men of all ages are coming to see what is happening.

The small area is slowly getting too crowded to have it under control and Lt. Fick is pacing around the scene unfolding before his eyes with apparent unease. US Marines are stationed around the place, but all of them know it is not enough.

Fick waves his left hand and within a second he has Brad Colbert by his side, awaiting orders.

"Get Bryan and Y/N out of there. We can't handle this anymore. We need to be Oscar Mike ASAP."

Brad only nods and he's already pushing his way through the crowd that seems to be made of concrete rather than people, as the young soldier struggles to advance forward.

In the centre of it all, kneeling on the ground, with blood soaked into the sand, are the two exhausted Corpsmen.

"The children are going to die here." Bryan states matter-of-factly without even looking up, while he's bandaging the young boy who can't be more than seven years old.

You know that but the words still send a chill down your spine, but you continue working too, without the apparent pointlessness of the reality to stop you.

You always know the facts after observing the situation, just like Bryan does, but you've never been able to announce it with such distance and certain cold even, even though you know it is necessary.

Robert Timothy Bryan is a straightforward man, a trait useful in the Corps and you've learned over the time to report the situation to your superior officers, but you still lack that sort of Bryaness and you probably always will.

You allow yourself to steal a glance at him. He's concentrated at the work before him, as he always is, the look of focus in his eyes more visible than ever. His face doesn't show any other emotion much, but you know he's exhausted beyond words, physically and mentally, although he would never admit to that out loud.

You come back to the little boy under your arms. He has two fractured ribs, that are causing him great pain but you are simply unable to do anything about it, he has one bad scratch on his left arm and a deep cut on his thigh - there is no serious bleeding and it is apparent that it must have been some time since he got wounded.

You cut off a part of his trousers to get a better access to the wound and you immediately notice the bloody spots and bruises.

You pick up your gaze to look at Bryan to find him already staring at you. You both know what this means, there is no need to say it out loud.

You look back down at the little boy, there are tears in his brown eyes and suddenly there's a lump in your throat. You desperately want to help the kid, but no matter what you do, nothing will be enough. The blood poisoning will kill him, you don't know when, he has only some hours to live tops, if he's lucky, and so far his fate has played a cruel game with him.

Then his little hand reaches for yours and you instinctively squeeze it. You hear in the background some voice saying something, you don't know what, you're too caught up in the moment that suddenly nothing matters anymore and the eyes of the boy make you question if this is really your war, if it really isn't your presence that will got him killed eventually.

In your peripheral vision you catch Bryan standing up and patting someone on the shoulder but you stop paying attention to that right away.

The boy is saying something now you don't understand but you just know he's begging you to help him. And you can't.

"I know," you hear yourself say, "I know and I'm sorry."

Useless words. Empty. Meaningless.

A woman kneels down before you, scooping the boy in her arms. His hand falls out of yours and it breaks your heart. He looks just like the woman, both of them with deep brown eyes, soft features, thick brown hair.

She nods. An understanding.

You wouldn't be able to tell her that her son will die in her arms, probably tonight.

There is a soft tap on your shoulder. You turn your head slightly.

"We have to go," Bryan is whispering into your ear, his hand still resting on your shoulder. You lean into his touch for comfort and you convince yourself it is everything you need in order to pull yourself together.

You don't look at the boy anymore. You can't. You stand up to follow your fellow Corpsman and without any warning, he reaches behind himself for your hand. He grabs it to not lose you in the crowd.

And you hold onto it like it's a life vest. Perhaps it is everything you need to pull through this war, perhaps he is.

---

Later that day, when you stop for the night, you can't sleep. You can see those helpless eyes of that boy every time you close your eyes.

This, most definitely, is not your first encounter with wounded locals you couldn't save, as it is not your last, but this one stays with you, no matter how much you fight it.

"Good work today, Y/N," you can hear Bryan's voice behind you. He sits on the ground next to you, shoulders and knees touching, and finally his affection towards you surprises you. You were too caught up in those moments before to notice how much he actually looks after you.

"If you say so," you respond, not sharing his opinion. You feel like you failed today.

"I know so," he counters, nudging you softly with his side. You finally smile.

You wait for him to bring up the boy incident but he doesn't speak one word of it and you're more than grateful. You couldn't talk about it if you tried. Maybe in a few years, but not today, and Bryan knows this, even if you don't.

"You're awfully nice to me lately," you decide to keep the conversation going, turning your head to look at him for just a moment.

He chuckles at that, a sound you haven't heard enough and could easily get drunk on. "I'm nice to everyone."

You burst out laughing at his answer, as all those cold stares and snarky comments of his come to your mind.

He joins in, smiling. "That felt wrong just to say it."

"Tell me about it."

"I just-" he surpises you when he continues, "I just fucking hate everyone."

You stop laughing and your heart drops a little but Bryan is still talking. "But you? You're the only person I don't hate."

You're so caught off guard that you can't find anything to say back to that as your own capibility to talk fails you. The words hang above you both, you savour the feeling because you finally don't feel so alone in the vast world.

Something clicks in you when he says those words and you're smiling now, you couldn't stop smiling if you wanted to.

You grab his hand and squeeze it, you don't let go of him, you can't now.

"I don't hate you too," you finally respond and you don't have to look at him to know he's smiling now too.