Vincent x Reader (Cute New Night Guard)

War AU

Christmas Eve is going to be a day for me to do a Christmas One-Shot, so when that is published grab your cookies and hot chocolate cause it's gonna be a fluff filled day my readers!

Screaming.

Blood.

Gunshots.

Vincent's senses picked up every detail of what was happening. The metallic scent of blood, the ear splitting ring from a nearby Frag Grenade, the humming of machine guns firing at will. Even the moans and pain filled grunts coming from his now crippled comrade, both legs now halfway across the battlefield.

"Leave me" he croaked, coughing up blood into the unfamiliar dirt beneath Vincent's shoes. Vincent didn't know the guy well, they had met just before all hell broke loose, even sharing a cup of black coffee.

"No" Vincent grunted, ripping off hunks of fabric from his uniform, using them as makeshift bandages. Quickly, the man slapped a hand over Vincent's, cutting him off from his work.

"I said leave, Vincent, I'm as good as gone...but you.....you have a life to live" he rasped, blood now pouring from his nose as well, the crimson color staining the broken earth in which he laid. Before Vincent could retaliate yet again, an apposing soldier slid behind the bags of sand which protecting human flesh from metallic bullets.

His face was set in a hard line, no sign of mercy within the dark eyes, drawing a gun from his holster quicker than Vincent could. In one shot, another life was claimed on foreign soil, and another was scrambling for his gun.

With shaky fingers, Vincent pulled the trigger, aiming directly at the chest cavity, he missed. Instead the bullet became lodged in the man's neck, leaving him gasping and gurgling for breath as blood filled his windpipe.

Vincent was alive, however, the same couldn't be said for his colleague. The bullet was a direct hit, between the eyes and through the back of the skull.

Shit.

The sound of gunshots started to cease, the once noisy area now holding an eerie silence. To afraid to be found, Vincent froze, listening intently for any sign of continued fighting. Again, the only sound was his own heart beating as adrenaline coursed through his veins.

Then, something else filled the silence, the crunching of boots becoming closer, and an unfamiliar language being whispered.

"Fuck" he cursed, scrambling towards the closest corpse, which so happened to be one of his own teammates. In a swift heave, he lifted up the body, crawling beneath it as he tried to play dead, willing his own heart to quiet down.

The crunching became closer, until finally, it was right above him. He stopped breathing, cursing mentally when the boots stopped in front of his vision, blood staining the tan material. The talking continued, none of it making any sense whatsoever.

Suddenly, the boot drew back, kicking the body above his brutally, also making contact with Vincent's arm. The pain was searing, but he somehow managed to keep from moving or making a sound.

The kicking continued, each time making contact with something on Vincent's body. He could feel the cracking of bones and tearing of tendons.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, the kicking stopped and the soldiers went about their day.