#joe toye/oc

[indigo-graves]

Currahee | Joe Toye

If there was a waiting room in hell, it was overseen by Herbert Sobel. At least, that’s what Vivian had convinced herself over the span of three months under his orders. She hated to admit it, but Sobel had found a way to be harsher on her than the men of Easy, as if it was his life’s mission to prove just how wrong they had been to allow a woman into the Company. Between his constant reminders of her gender, of the balance that needed to be struck for her to continue a part of the paratroopers, of the way the men considered her nothing more than a distraction from their objectives. The only positive response from it all was the way the rest of the Company responded to his overt attempts to cut her down to size. 

At first, there were nods of agreement, eye rolls, knowing looks and glances her way. It evolved then to averted eyes, bitten cheeks, sympathetic looks. After months of proving herself as good of a candidate as any of her male counterparts, she was noticing gritted teeth, clenched fists, and muttered resentments. 

Similar to the ones that resounded around her as the Company busted their asses three miles up, three miles down. It was only on Currahee that Vivian ever found herself questioning if she would make it to Europe. She often joked with her companions about how they would have to ship her back home to her mother with a note about how she perished two and a half miles up a mountain in Georgia. 

True to her suspicions, as Vivian pushed herself up the last leg of the incline, she felt a cramp begin in her calf. Cursing, she limped to the side of the trail, away from the group of men that surrounded her. Sweat dripped from her brow as she leaned forward, reaching for her toes to stretch through the pain. She wiped her forehead and cheeks with the back of her free hand, blowing the strands of hair from her face. 

“You okay?” The gruff voice of one concerned Joe Toye only took her slightly by surprise. If anyone were going to stop, it was going to be Toye, who had found a way to show up just about anywhere when she needed any form of support (and even when she didn’t.) 

“Cramp,” she nodded back to him, kneading into the back of her calf. “I’ll be alright.” 

“Here,” Joe reached his canteen out towards her. 

“I’ve got my own,” she reminded him, adjusting the strap of her canteen on her shoulder. “Besides, it’ll be a boring weekend for anyone who takes a sip without Sobel’s okay.” 

Joe shrugged, “that’s why I offered mine.” 

“Thanks,” she smiled softly, starting to feel the muscle tension relent. She alternated between flexing and pointing her foot, sighing with relief. “You shouldn’t let them get too far. He’ll have your ass.” 

“Fuck ‘em,” Joe shrugged again. “I’ll tell him I was taking a piss.” 

Vivian laughed, “and what was I doing?” 

Joe felt heat rise in his cheeks as he recognized what this may look like to a Commander who was already working tirelessly to invalidate a woman’s place in the Company. He scratched the back of his head.

“I guess we should both get moving then,” he gestured to the rest of the company, starting to look smaller and smaller up ahead. 

“Yep,” Vivian replied, limping herself into a quick walk, then up to a jog. 

When they got up to the rest of the group, Vivian was able to slow her pace, thankful to give the burn in her lungs time to subside. 

“Where’d ya go?” Luz asked Toye, looking over at Vivian who was working overtime now to keep pace with the soreness in her calf. 

“Quickie in the woods?” Guarnere asked slyly, causing a few chuckles to resound. 

“Yeah, don’t forget to give your mother my regards,” Joe spat back, causing Vivian to smirk. Joe winked back at her.

[rogue-durin-16]

HEAD-TO-HEAD (part XI/?)

Summary: Joe thought she was pretty. Had he just said that, things might have been different for them. Maybe they wouldn't have gone head-to-head at each other for three years like it was a contest.

Pairing: Joseph Liebgott x Reader

Genre: angst/rivals to lovers

Tags:

Head-to-head: @derersketnoget @ladystardustfromarss @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark @sxalbatf @aliciax3 @jetjuliette @luvrottt @fromjupitertocentauri

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark

Permanent taglist: @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: sexism, slut-shaming (borderlining harassment here ngl), language, smoking

A/N: We're halfway through and I just wanted to mention I'm low-key taken aback by the support this series is getting. It's been so long since I sat down and wrote a long ass fic series, and I forgot how much I liked it. I'm glad y'all are as invested in this silly journey as I am, so enjoy <3

Head-to-head masterlist

Band of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"—can't believe he got himself a girlfriend." My hearing barely caught on George's full sentence, despite him standing by the pub's threshold I had just crossed, due to the racket inside.

"That's not a girlfriend, alright" Guarnere's back was to the door, but still I saw the direction he shamelessly pointed at. "that's a toy."

"Don't be mean."

"You came!" Luz turned around and took a step back, opening to me the closed half circle they boys had formed. "Thought you were ditching us for loverboy Andrew."

I hummed, taking off my uniform's jacket. "He had things to do."

"Mail boy dumped you? Looking like this?" George whistled, "Men these days," he smacked Toye's chest with the back of his palm. "am I right, Joe?"

"Oh, quit it." I dismissively waved at him, an amused smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "You playing darts?"

Babe, the new kid Guarnere had taken under his wing, gave me an enthusiastic nod. "Toye and I against Lieutenant Compton and Luz."

Of course. "Don't get sharked." I exhorted, giving the replacement a pat on the back. "Someone wants a drink?"

"I'm comin' with you." Toye stated.

My eyes flickered to the full beer he was holding. "No need to."

"I'm comin' with you, c'mon."

With some resistance, we managed to conquer a small corner of the bar counter, dangerously close to Joe and the Attagirl he had chatted up a week prior.

"Huh."

The woman's sharp eyes landed on my puzzled gaze. She gifted me a polite smile, which made Joe turn.

I didn't know what I was expecting, but it surely wasn't a curt nod.

"He gets laid and manners fly off the window." If he heard it, he chose to ignore it. "If he had any to begin with."

"Just order the damn drink." Toye urged me, nudging my shoulder to redirect my attention to the counter, which earned him a warning glare. "Don't go givin' me that look."

I pushed down the urge to start a pointless argument and did as I was told. The barman was quick serving the drink, but not quick enough to avoid trouble.

The free stool on my right scrapped against the wooden floor. "Your boyfriend stood you up?"

"You gotta be shittin' me." Toye rubbed his temples. "Go back to your seat."

"That's what you're opening with?" I spat at Joe, taking the drink Toye shoved into my grasp.

"You're not denying it." His tone was smug enough to almost bait me.

Almost.

"Go back to your pilot and let me enjoy the night without wanting to claw your eyes out." I hissed, bumping his shoulder when I sidestepped him.

Toye walked with me without a word until our paths parted; him joining Heffron to play darts, me squeezing myself between the pub's tables until I found a free chair by Bull's fresh-faced squad. God, did they look young.

I kept my interventions to the minimum, limiting myself to enjoy the bantery conversations. I wasn't in the mood to get any additional attention; it was odd enough for me to be there in the first place, after telling my friends I wouldn't be joining them that evening.

That's why the first time Cobb threw a bad comment to one of the new kids, I simply rolled my eyes. The second time, I just shared a tired look with Bull. By the third time, though, he was out of line.

"Let the kid be, Cobb." I quipped, taking a sip of my drink, legs crossed with my back leaning on the back of the chair. "It's a damn unit citation."

"You should take that off too, Y/l/n." His words carried a poison I had heard too many times. I mused how far he would take it before getting smacked. "Not that you did anything other than suck some officer's dick."

"Hey-" Hoobler gave the man's shoulder a discrete push, causing Cobb's head to snap at him. "Ease up, pal. Don't go there."

"Why? Did I fuckin' lie?" His attention returned to me. "How else would she be here?" My posture didn't change a bit, but there was a tension straining my shoulders and jaw while I seize the situation. "How many higher-ups did you fuck to play soldier, Y/l/n?"

"Cobb." Bull didn't say anything else, but the name was so obviously a warning.

Despite my piercing eyes not breaking eye contact with the man standing across the table, I didn't miss Guarnere's gaze ping-ponging between us rised eyebrows.

"What, you jealous?" Cobb sneered at my clap back. At his lack of response, I cleared my throat and left my glass on the table, propping myself forward on it. "You know what I think, Cobb?" My tone was uncharacteristically light, my pursed smile containing half of the words I would say to him. "I think you're just mad I got through Normandy and came out of it with a promotion, when you didn't even make the damn jump."

"Wait, what?" Garcia's eyes shot Cobb a disbelieving look. "You didn't jump?"

"I was hit before I could jump." A wave of shame washed over him like a buck of freezing water, his ears heating up at Guarnere's snickering. "You're a bitch."

"Cobb, shut up." Martin deadpanned behind me.

"Someone has to say what we're all thinking."

"Oh my-" I jumped out of my seat, palms hitting the wooden table. "If you want me to punch you, just say so."

"What's going on?" A quick glance over my shoulder let me know more people than I would have liked were now on us, Buck among them.

"Cobb's calling Y/l/n names, Lieutenant." Babe was quick to give it away, triggering a sigh of resignation on my part.

"I see you don't mind getting dicked down by replacements now," he taunted, not minding Buck's steps to stand by my side. He seemed to be about to try and deescalate the situation, and a part of me wondered if the officer really expected to be successful on it. "Should've figured. Isn't your 4F boyfriend a replacement, too?" Bull secured my arm before I could go around the table. "Where's he? Too busy? Or just too embarrassed to show up with you?"

Guarnere got up with a tired groan, accommodating his uniform— if I didn't hit Cobb, he would.

"You got a big fucking mouth, you know that?" I found myself yelling.

"Funny comin' from you." The man laughed bitterly, eyes glassy from the alcohol "Bet you hear that a lot."

The back of Compton's hand extended before me as a signal for me to stop as he attempted to approach Cobb himself.

He didn't get to him before a hand yanked the instigator's bicep with enough force to make him stumble until his back hit the wall.

"Say that again." Liebgott's daring tone screamed trouble, but he didn't seem to care. "C'mon, say that again, tough guy."

Cobb gaped and, for the first time in the night, he thought twice before speaking.

"Lieb, knock it off." Malarkey had moved through the crowded bar to reach the boiling situation.

"No, I want him to repeat what he said." Cobb tried to step out of Joe's reach, but the latter shoved him back into place.

"Joe," his eyes darted at my call like a flash for a split second.

"Yeah, I know— you got it, but I'm already here." He dismissed me, his full attention on Cobb as if he was waiting to be given an excuse to come to blows.

I nearly missed the concerned yet expectant glance Buck spared me before jumping in. "Alright, that's enough." With a firm hand on Joe's chest, he pushed the Translator back; More and Malarkey took it as a cue to get a grasp and pull him away. "Next time you better watch that mouth." The blond man warned Cobb with a pointed finger. "I might just look away and let her smack your face." The Private muttered a halfhearted 'yes, sir' before our Lieutenant slapped the back of his neck on his way out.

"Thought we were 'boutta send him to the hospital." Guarnere commented with a joking tinge in his voice while he sat back down.

"You're not gonna send anyone to the hospital, Bill." Buck sounded like a father tiredly scolding his trouble child. "Y/n?"

"Sir?"

Buck handed me my long forgotten drink with poorly hidden uneasiness. "Why don't you go outside?" His hand gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze, the Lieutenant scanning the pub like he was silently looking for someone else. "Cool off, get some fresh air."

I nodded at the idea, downing what was left in the glass, squinted eyes fixed on a now mortified Cobb sitting in a corner of the bar, until I turned heel to head out. "I'll be back in a moment."

"Y/n/n, can I take your seat?" Babe tentatively questioned when I passed by him and Toye.

"Suit yourself." I tried not to sound too irked, forcing a small smile at the replacement who repaid me with one of his own.

"Hey," Toye stopped me briefly, cutting through. "You alright?" I shook my head affirmatively. The Irishman stepped closer, looking over my shoulder. "You want me to deck him?"

A genuine, quiet laugh left my lungs.

"We'll make it look like an accident." George joked, jumping into the short exchange to offer me a cigarette. "Heading out?"

"Yeah, I need a minute." I placed the smoke between my lips for Luz to light it. "I'm not about to get court-martialled for punching that piece of shit."

"Smarter than some." He mumbled under his breath, pulling a smoke for himself too. "Speaking of the devil, I think Lieb's outside." It was a friendly heads-up.

"Alright." I took a puff out of the cigarette and walked past the boys and out of the place. Aldbourne's cold air hit the bits of my skin left exposed and suddenly I was very grateful for my uniform's jacket.

I slipped it on, braced myself and took a few steps out of the entrance, my heels clicking on the street. Sure enough, there he was, leaning against the building's wall, hands shoved into his pockets while he maintained a heated yet hushed conversation with some of the boys.

Before I could decide whether it would be best to stay on my own or approach him, Don took it upon himself to call for me. With a drag of Luz's cigarette and a double check behind me, I strolled over, arms folded over my chest to preserve the heat.

"—was just drunk, Joe." I only caught part of Skinny's sentence, but the topic was obvious.

"Half of us are drunk, Skinny." More countered before Joe could. "You see anyone pulling that shit?" The man speaking, standing across from me, greeted me with a nod.

The small group made space for me, Talbert quietly checking if I was alright while the rest seemed to be trying to convince Joe this wasn't worth it.

"Y/n, side with us here." Penkala begged, introducing me into the conversation.

"Side with what?"

Liebgott tilted his head up with a humorless laugh, earning an exasperated sigh from Sisk.

"Do you think this was worth the trouble?" Malarkey asked, motioning at the pub.

"What? Cobb?" I turned my face away to exhale the smoke out of the circle of soldiers. "Fuck, no."

"Okay, don't act like you weren't gonna throw hands at him." Joe hissed, throwing a judgmental glare in my direction.

"Doesn't matter what I was gonna do 'cause you beat me to it."

Silence, filled with nothing but the tension coming from two wound-up individuals who didn't know how to talk things out.

"C'mon Mal." More was the first one to bail, giving both Malarkey and Penkala a tug to follow him back in.

"Are you gonna give me shit for this?" Joe inquired in that high-pitched tone he used when he was pissed and didn't even know at what.

Skinny was quick to follow Alton's example. "I'm out."

"Wait for me." Tab called, taking half a step back to the entrance before looking over his shoulder at us. "Don't kill each other."

And just like that, Joe and I were left alone to tread a ridiculously thin line between an argument and an honest conversation.

"I'm not giving you shit for anything." I tried my luck, making a point to sound genuine —because I was.

Joe seemed to get the memo. Truce.

"He's a fucking idiot." He commented, kicking a pebble away.

"I know." I shrugged, taking a drag and exhaling it into the night. "He's all talk, though."

He puffed. "I'm not."

"Neither am I."

Joe mused his next sentence before laying it out unceremoniously. "You wanted me to punch him, didn't you?"

The ghost of a grin twisted up the corner of my lips for a split second; long enough for him to catch on it.

"He's gonna get himself beaten up one of these days." I tossed the cigarette to the ground and heeled it. "Mark my words."

"That wasn't the question." Joe taunted me with a crooked half smile of his own.

"He's not worth the trouble, Joe." I limited myself to reply.

"Still not an answer."

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" I threw another question at him; an obvious deflection he allowed me to get away with. "You left that poor thing in there on her own."

"She knows how to handle herself."

I stole a glance at the pub's door, as if I could see the woman if I tried hard enough. "What's her name?"

"Where's your boyfriend?"

My lips twitched. "I asked first."

"Lorna." He gave in without a fight, which meant he expected me to do the same. "Where is he?"

"His pass got revoked."

"Why?"

A shrug. "Didn't ask."

"Bullshit." His tone got a chuckle out of me. "That's the second time I said it and you didn't deny it."

"He's not my boyfriend," I clarified, leaning in before adding "don't lose sleep over it."

His mouth opened like he was torn between laughing and countering something. I didn't let him do neither before waltzing back to the entrance.

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! Part 34 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

I'm running out of GIFs ahhhhhh!!

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, not hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @imusicaddict, @b00ks1ut , @mstiemountainhop, @awaterfalls anyone else please let me know.

We sat in the bar drinking and laughing. All of the nurses were giggling and gossiping over their drinks. 

When we had arrived the rest of the nurses were already waiting for us. They had saved a cute booth in the back for us to all squish into. There were so many of us girls that we practically sat on top of each other, but no one seemed to mind.

I listened to all of their stories, hanging off every word, I missed talking to women. I forgot how much more in depth their tales were, we always got every piece of information we could about the topic, even if it didn’t have anything to do with the plot. Men only had the basics they could tell a story from start to finish, but they didn’t have the fine details. 

The bar was crowded with other army personnel and members of the public. The record playing behind the bar was hard to hear over all the noise. We all had to lean in close, raising our voices to be heard over all the commotion. 

Being a group of women, we were attracting attention. Men would come and go from the table, trying to sidle up to the girl who took their fancy, but there was never enough room for them to squeeze into the booth. So they took to pulling up chairs at the end of the table, basically trapping us in. 

Unfortunately for me our group had been the last one to arrive, so I was stuck on the outer edge of the booth. 

It was fine, I had mastered ignoring them and most of them wanted to talk to the other nurses, which I was thankful for. 

I was almost sitting on top of poor Alice, who was the youngest nurse in the group. Her sweet round face and big doe eyes took in the world with wonder. She had told me this was her first time in a bar and that she had never drunk alcohol before. I watched in amusement as she took her first sips of a wine we had ordered her. 

“Oh god!” She coughed, puckering her face with the sour drink. “It burns.”       

We all giggled, as she blushed shyly.

“To Alice’s first sip!” I cheered, raising my glass, the rest of the nurses laughed and raised their glasses as we all clinked them together.   

“How are you finding it?” I bumped her with my shoulder. 

“The drink?” She asked, making a grimacing face. I laughed loudly at her naivety. 

“No, I can tell by your face the opinion you have about the drink. I meant the pub. Are you liking it?”  

“Yes, it’s very fun!” She replied in a chipper manner. 

“A bit later we should dance.” I suggested, I watched her face light up as she nodded. 

“I love dancing!” She sighed dreamily. 

“Do you love dancing? Or dancing with someone in particular?” I questioned. 

The blonde’s face blushed a deep shade of red as she dipped her head down. 

“Could you tell?”

I laughed again. Alice was so sweet my teeth hurt. 

“Yes, your big love heart eyes gave you away.” I teased. 

“He said he would come tonight, but I haven’t seen him.” I watched her crane her neck over the crowd trying to spot him, but her lip caught between her teeth. 

“I’m sure he’ll come.” I tried to reassure her. 

I spoke to Alice most of the night, it was more difficult to speak to the rest of the girls due to the noise.  

“When did you start working?” I asked, thinking she looked so young. 

“A couple months ago, they were needing more nurses since they were so short, they said they would take anyone. So I applied.” I nodded my head listening to Alice speak. 

“You’re very brave.” I told her, as she sent me a soft grin. 

“No, you’re more brave than I. You work on the front, don’t you?” Alice asked, tilting her head. 

“I did, not anymore. But I do have to tell you the scariest thing was how bad those men smelt.” I grinned as she threw her head back in fits of laughter. 

“What’s happening?” I asked as the rest of the nurses made their way out of the booth. 

“They cleared the dance floor!” Ruth cheered. “Come on!” 

I smiled at Alice and we jumped up from our seats. We followed the rest of the group onto the floor. The men had been quick to action, swooping in and stealing all the nurses away to dance with them. 

“Care to dance.” I extended my hand to Alice, putting on a masculine voice. 

“Why of course, Sir.” She curtseyed while giggling at my silly antics. 

Alice and I danced around the room in hysterics, we ignored the odd glances sent our way from the other patrons who were watching from the outskirts of the floor. 

After a while a man tapped my shoulder and asked to cut in. I looked over to Alice as her eyes became large and blush rose to her cheeks. From the way she bit her lower lip nervously, I could tell it was the person she had spoken about earlier. 

“You be good to her.” I warned, but still handed her over to the tall man.    

I watched like a proud mother, as Alice and her guy swayed together. I enjoyed watching all of the nurses dancing with their men. Their knowledge of the different types of dances amazed me. With each new song they knew the exact dance that went with the tune. After a while of watching I made my way back to the booth, waiting for the girls to finally come back to the table.

“Hey, I know you! You’re Easy company’s medic.” I startled as the random man slumped down into the space next to me. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to discreetly scoot away but he had cornered me right into the back wall. 

“I am one of them.” I said hesitantly. The man smelt of booze and slurred as he talked. Each time he spoke he lent agonisingly close, his hot breath wafting over my face.     

“You must be tired.” The drunk man sent me a greasy smile. 

“No, I have other medics who help me.” I informed the man, confused by his comment. I furrowed my brow trying to peek over his shoulder to see I could rally some assistance, or at least distraction. 

“No,” He chuckled, “from being passed around.”

I stilled, turning my head slowly to see if I heard him correctly. He looked at me smugly, my stomach twisted. 

“Excuse me?” My lip curled into a snarl, but the man was too drunk to notice.

“Won’t you let me have a turn?” He smiled at me, his hands wandered down the inside of my thighs. I gripped his wrists, trying to keep him from exploring any further.   

“Fuck off!” I snapped, trying my best to escape the corner he had me tucked into. His back was facing toward the crowd, his whole body was covering mine. I’m sure I couldn’t even be seen from the position we were in. 

“Aw, that's no way for a lady to talk. Come on, everyone else has had a ride.” The man licked his lips, I almost gagged. It was a split second decision, my head clouded by the wines I had drunk, I raised my hand. I knew it was a bad idea but my hand was already wound up behind my head. 

I slapped him across his face, sending him cowering back. 

“I said, fuck off!” I asserted, but my tone didn’t match my actions. My voice shook slightly as I came to terms with what I had done.

He looked at me in disbelief, clutching the cheek I just struck. My handprint left a red welt on his face. 

I knew from the rage that spread across his features, I had fucked up. 

I tried to scramble out the other side of the booth, but the only way to move was to scoot around the bend and then down the length of the rest of the bench. 

Not even two scoots along, he had caught up to me. His arms longer than mine reached my limbs and dragged me back. 

Pinning me to the back corner by my throat, the drunk man loomed over me. His nostrils flared as he glared down at me in disgust. 

“You motherfucker.” He growled lowly in my face. 

“No, but I did fuck your Dad.” I said mockingly. My drunk mind was taking more control than the sober me, who was in the back of my head yelling at me to scream for help. 

The man guffawed in shock. He reeled his arm back ready to strike, just as he was about to swing his wrist was captured by a hand. 

In a split second the man was gone. He was right in front of me, huffing down into my face, then in a blink of an eye he was being dragged out of the booth. 

I sat for a moment in shock, not quite believing my eyes. I darted out of the booth, following behind the man who had my assailant by the scruff of the neck. 

No one stood in the way of the pair as the soldier hauled the man through the crowd. 

“Hey!” I called out after them, as I pushed my way through the onlookers. 

I followed them outside, watching as the soldier threw the man onto the ground. The drunk rolled in the gravel before getting to his feet. Raising his fist in front of his face readying himself for a fight. 

As I looked around I saw that a group had formed around the pair, my brows furrowed as I clocked familiar faces. Bull, Babe, George, it was all Easy men. 

“What the-” I muttered under my breath before my attention was caught again. 

The drunk man lunged forward sloppily, his fist swinging out wildly trying to hit his opponent. The man dodged his attack ducking to the side and moving past the man as he ran forwards. 

He now stood facing me. 

“Donald what the fuck!” I yelled in disbelief. I had no idea how I hadn’t noticed it was him this whole time. 

Don looked over to me as I glared at him. The drunk man darted forward again, but Don wasn’t paying attention, he was too busy looking back at me. 

I watched in horror as the man’s fist collided with Malarley’s face. He stumbled back clutching his cheek, before shaking his head and raising his own fists.  

“No!” I marched forward getting ready to intervene in this stupid fight, but hands caught around my waist holding me back. 

“Let go!” I struggled against the strong arms but their grip held firm. 

“Just let him get in a good few hits, and then I’ll let you go.” Lieb whispered in my ear. 

“No, I don’t need him to fight my battles for me. I was dealing with the situation.” I raised my voice loud so Don could hear me. 

“Right like you were handling it! You were seconds from being hit in the face.” Don chimed in from across the gravel.

“Why do you even care?! You wanted space, remember?” I didn’t care who was listening. I was so angry all I could focus on was Malarkey. 

“We can talk about that later.” Don said while dodging another attack from the man. His fist snapped out from his side, audibly crunching into the man’s nose.  

The drunk man hollered in pain, collapsing into a heap on the floor. Bright red blood poured from his nose as he clutched it screaming out in agony. It was definitely broken. 

Finally Lieb let me go. I stormed out of his arm right towards Don. 

“What is wrong with you?” I shoved his chest, but he didn’t budge as he stared down at me. 

I bent down to the man who was cradling his injured face covered in his own blood. 

“Here let me help.” I offered my assistance. I reached out to move his hands away from his nose so I could see it better. 

“Why are you helping him?” Don scoffed trying to pull me to my feet. 

He was right, I have no idea why I was trying to help this man when not even five minutes ago he was groping my thighs and asking for a turn.

The drunk fended me off, “Like I want your help, you got me into this.” He growled at me as he got to his feet and trudged off. 

I was about to raise my head and have another go at Don, but before I could say anything I was tugged away and steered back into the bar and towards the dance floor. 

George twirled me round, placing his hand in mine and the other on my waist. 

“Wooh, look at you. Even when you’re about to get beaten up, you still look good.” I stared at him in shock for a second before I laughed. 

“What on earth are you doing?” I was baffled by the man as he grinned at me. 

“Come on doll, let me give you a spin.” He twirled me again, disorientating me on purpose to distract me. 

“I don’t know how to dance George!” I protested, trying to leave his arms.

“Oh, of course you do. Don’t lie to me! I literally saw you dance back in Hagenau.”  

“Well I don’t know how to do this dance.” I gestured towards all of the couples who were doing the most elaborate dances with ease. 

A Frank Sinatra song started playing over the record. George took me under my arm resting his hand on my back and holding our other hands together. 

“What dance are we gonna do?” I asked nervously. 

“The foxtrot.” George grinned at me, I gave him a scared look, but he just chuckled at me. 

George patiently taught me the steps. After stepping on his toes multiple times, I finally got the dance. 

We glided around the floor, looking like the other couples I was in awe of moments ago. I was able to actually look at George as we danced, not having to look at my feet anymore or think too hard about what they were doing.

“What’s up with you and Don?” He asked tentatively. 

I sighed, shaking my head. “I don’t know, we had a fight, he said he wanted space and I guess I just spiralled from there.”

“Yeah, I brought you in for a dance cause it looked like you were about to bite each other’s heads off.” George laughed. 

“Thank you, I needed the distraction. Also why are you all here anyway?” They hadn’t said anything about coming out tonight. 

“We might have told Don how beautiful you looked and that if he didn’t come out here after you, you’d probably be swept off your feet by another man.” George replied quickly. 

“Well you were right, someone did sweep me off my feet!” 

“Who?!” George asked, looking around frantically. 

“You, stupid.” I laughed, he sighed in relief, finally getting the joke and chuckling. 

George dipped me down dramatically before bringing me up again. I giggled as he spun me round then pulled me back to him catching me before I smashed into his chest.  

The songs slowed, as the couples around us swayed gently to the music. We stood still, stepping from one foot to the other swaying to the beat. A hand tapped on George’s shoulder as we whispered to each other. We looked over to find Malarkey smiling at us. 

“Mind if I steal her away Luz?” Malarkey asked.

---------------------------------------

Chapter 35

[wordsaresimple-imnot]

Masterlist

American Horror Story

AU!AHS multi-chapter

War meets Death - Michael Langdon x O/C Female **Currently on pause

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Band of Brothers

Drunken Confessions - Bill Guarnere x F!Reader (1st person POV, male and female) one-shot, fluff

The next day - Bill Guarnere x F!Reader, Drunken Confessions pt 2, one-shot *smut*

Green Dress - Bill Guarnere x F!Reader (1st person POV, female) one-shot *smut*

Pen pal's - Bill Guarnere x F!Reader one-shot, fluff/slight angst

Truth or dare - Joe Toye x F!Reader (1st person POV, female) one-shot

The game continues - Joe Toye x F!Reader, Truth or dare pt 2, (1st person POV, female) one-shot *smut*

That final line - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader one-shot *smut*, fluff & angst

Oil and water - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader (1st person POV, female) requested one-shot *smut*, angst/fluff ending

Body heat - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader (1st person POV, female) requested one-shot, *smut*

In her arms - George Luz x F!Reader requested one-shot, angst/fluff ending

Leverage

New Hope - Eliot x Reader one-shot/drabble

[zamadness]

Noise

ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: ᴀɴʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ʙᴀɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ɪꜱ ꜱᴛʀɪᴄᴛʟʏ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ ɪꜱ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴀꜱ ɴᴏ ᴅɪꜱʀᴇꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟ ʜᴇʀᴏ’ꜱ.

Might not fallow the miniseries to 100%.

Eindhoven, September 1944

The cheering was deafening.

Dutch civilians crowded the cobbled streets of Eindhoven, pressing toward the line of paratroopers like a tidal wave of gratitude and joy. Flags flew, children danced, and flowers rained down on Easy Company with each step they took.

Vivian walked alongside them, Scout heeling at her left. The dog’s harness bore a faint smear of blood from a rescue days ago, but today she looked almost out of place—her nose twitching, ears tucked low, tail slightly rigid.

Viv noticed immediately.

Scout wasn’t wagging her tail.

The noise was building. Singing, clapping, someone had broken out a fiddle. The narrow road between the brick houses became a tunnel of movement, feet thumping, voices rising, hands reaching.

Viv slowed.

“Scout,” she said softly, reaching down to brush the dog’s side.

Scout didn’t look up. Her body was trembling—barely perceptible, but Viv felt it through her glove. The dog’s head was low, eyes darting from face to face, her ears twitching at every sudden cheer or crack of a firework.

Then the firecrackers went off.

Pop-pop-POP.

Scout dropped.

In front of everyone—civilians, soldiers, children waving paper flags—Scout dropped to the street like she’d been shot, belly flat against the cobbles, tail tucked, paws over her snout.

“Scout!” Viv knelt beside her instantly, heart skipping.

The company halted. The cheers faded as confusion rippled through the crowd.

Viv didn’t care.

She pressed a hand to Scout’s ribs. Fast breathing. Too fast.

The fireworks continued somewhere down the street. Someone had meant them to celebrate. Scout didn’t know that.

“It’s okay, baby,” Viv murmured, voice low, fingers carding through the fur behind Scout’s ears. “It’s just noise. Just people being happy. You’re alright.”

Scout whimpered, ears still down.

“Viv?” Luz stepped close, his usual grin gone. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s overwhelmed,” Viv said simply, still stroking Scout’s head. “It’s too much.”

“She’s scared?” Lipton asked, softly.

Viv didn’t look up. “She’s just like the rest of us. Brave as hell—but she’s not invincible.”

Scout’s head nudged into Viv’s stomach, pressing hard, like she wanted to crawl into her if she could.

Viv wrapped both arms around her. She didn’t care who saw.

“You’re okay,” she whispered. “You’ve done so much. You can rest right now. I’ve got you.”

The company stood still.

No one teased. No one smiled.

They’d seen Scout drag wounded men out of mortar zones, tear into enemy trenches when ordered, sleep curled up on Lipton’s lap during shelling in crammed fox holes.

And now she was shaking in the middle of a celebration.

Guarnere handed her a flower. “Give her this,” he mumbled. “She likes flowers, right?”

Viv smiled faintly. “She likes pinecones.”

Speirs crouched beside them and dropped something at Scout’s side. A beat-up pinecone.

Scout blinked. Her ears twitched.

Viv nudged it closer.

Slowly, Scout sniffed it.

And then her tail wagged—once, twice, slow and uncertain, but enough.

Viv felt tears sting her eyes as she kissed the top of Scout’s head.

The company didn’t cheer. But they smiled. Quietly. Respectfully.

And when they began moving again, it was with Scout pressed against Viv’s leg, a pinecone clutched proudly in her mouth, her ears no longer pinned.

Because even the strongest among them needed a moment.

And they’d given it to her.

Band of Brothers Masterlist

Feedback/Reblogs are appreciated!

Episode Tie-In: Carentan Masterpost

[next-autopsy]

A/N: I am eternally sorry this has taken so long and I beg your forgiveness- what better way than with a chapter called: Forgiveness. I've had a massive break from writing and this is completely unedited so please bear with me here

Based on the actors portrayal/hbo show and written with no disrespect to the real life veterans. Also all images found on Pinterest.

TW: cute things ahead? internalised homophobia

Tags: @malarkgirlypop, @panzershrike-pretz, @grumpy-liebgott @b00ks1ut (let me know if y'all still want to be on here, its been ages i know)

Made of Glass

Chapter twenty seven: Forgiveness

The time had come to fix things with Toye. 

Birdie knew he was still upset with her, rightfully so. She knew she needed to talk to him and clarify, he was her best friend after all. 

That afternoon, after she finally got rid of Luz who had followed her round making quips at her NOT date, Birdie sort out her pal. He was fairly easy to find, predictably, he had chosen to spend his day off working out. Blowing off his upset with her as he ran laps around one of the designated PT fields. 

He noticed her standing at the edge of the grassy field. Usually Toye would stop and chat to her or slow down so she could jog beside him, today; he kept running, right past her without changing his speed. This is how she knew he was still quietly fuming.

Birdie followed after him, picking up her speed to a jog which quickly became a run after noticing he wasn’t slowing down for her. 

She knew he was aware of her following behind him. She knew he was ignoring her on purpose. She knew it would take a lot of sucking up to repair the riff she had caused. So she continued to run after him, showing him she was dedicated to fixing their friendship. 

They ran several laps of the field, not slowing in pace which almost winded Bernadette. So when Toye finally slowed to a stop, Birdie was panting and puffing, near death.

“I thought we were friends.” Toye began, breaking the silence. Birdie was not ready for this conversation, still bent over trying to catch her breath but she couldn’t ignore him now. 

“We are!”

“Why didn't you say anything before leaving? After Harr-” He cut himself off, not wanting to open that can of worms. Taking a deep breath, he spoke up again, “I was scared something happened to you.” Toye had lowered his tone, stepping closer to her as if his worry was a secret. Birdie didn’t answer him, she wasn’t really sure what to say to calm him so she just allowed him to say his piece.

“And then, Popeye told me you were whisked off by Liebgott. Popeye! I had to hear that from Popeye! My own best friend and fuckin’ Popeye knew before me.” He was back to raising his voice, arms flailing around to prove a point. Luckily no one was around to hear so it didn’t really matter if he yelled a little. 

“I’m sorry, Joe-” The woman began but was quickly silenced.

“Don’t even get me started on Liebgott! What the hell, Birdie?” Joe’s eyebrows were furrowed, he didn’t have a lot of love or respect for the Californian man. The way he had iced Birdie out and talked about her behind her back in the early days of Toccoa had rubbed Toye the wrong way. Even in the first weeks when none of the men were on speaking terms with Bernadette, Toye had admired her, he never joined in with the bets, name calling or speculations about the Easy company lady and he didn’t respect the men who did. 

“Joe…” Birdie said softly, she wanted to reach out and hug him. She truly hadn’t meant to upset him so much but she also knew this was about more than him hearing news through the grapevine. There was something deeper to his upset.

Bernadette gave him a moment as he took deep breaths, partially from the intense cardio workout and partially because of his emotions. He inhaled sharp and shaky which was Bernadette’s indication to stay quiet, whatever he was about to say was needed, Toye needed to get it off his chest and tell her.

“When-” He let out a sigh, pausing to restart his sentence, “It felt like that day all over again.” He started, his eyes downcast to the grass unable or unwilling to make eye contact while he spoke these words. “I really thought it was you, you know?” 

That sentence gave her chills. She knew which day he was referring to, she knew what event he was speaking about. They had never discussed it, not properly. As always Toye and Birdie had brushed off their true feelings, bottled them up and pretended everything was normal. 

He typically wasn’t one for words, he comforted silently, he checked on her mutely. He didn’t have to say much, it was like they could read each other's minds, so they didn’t need to speak out loud. And Birdie appreciated that, it was nice to have someone who treated her normally and not like a little girl who was going to have a breakdown and needed to be handled with care. 

But now, all those conversations they pushed aside were coming out. Stuff they never openly discussed but should have. 

“And, you didn’t even tell me…” Toye looked down, these words were lighter, not as serious or heartbreaking. She quickly realised Toye was trying to change the subject and shift the atmosphere 

“Tell you what?” Bernadette was unsure of what he wanted to talk about because he usually didn’t. He didn’t push her to bring things up or ask lots of questions, he told her what he wanted her to know. He shared what he was willing to share and Birdie never pushed him for more, she didn’t want to overstep the boundaries of their friendship. 

“About Luz…” His gaze went back to her, “I know you know, we talked. He told me everything.” Oh. Oh. He and George had talked? When did that happen? Damn, she was missing some vital information, maybe being open about everything was best.

“I was waitin’ for you to come to me.” She spoke honestly, she didn’t want to press him if he wasn’t ready to talk about certain things. Yes, she knew Luz had some level of feelings for her best friend but she had promised not to betray the trust he had put in her. And a promise was something she took very seriously. 

“But you went to him.” It finally clicked for Birdie why Joe was so cut up. He knew that she was aware of the feelings between the two men but she hadn’t said anything to him, instead she had gone to George, chatted and comforted and been there for him, something Joe had recently realized he wanted. 

He wanted to share his private life with someone, he wanted to open up and talk to her. Joe wanted her advice about the jokester and how to proceed. Having never been in this kind of situation before and found himself needing her, his best friend. 

“I just feel like you’re keeping things from me. A lot of things.” Toye straightened up his posture, putting on his tough man bravado. 

“Well let’s not.” The woman’s voice was cheery and she bounced on her feet, a large smile making its way onto her face. The stiff uncomfortable conversation from before was now forgotten, it was clear that whatever little riff between them was mended.

“Huh?” Her sudden change of demeanor confused him. 

“Let’s not keep stuff from each other. We obviously have a few things to catch up on. You tell me everything and I’ll tell you everything. No exceptions. I’ll ask you the most intrusive questions and you have to answer. You’ll be so sick of me, it’ll be great.” The grin never left her face. 

Birdie didn’t really give him a chance to reply, she linked arms with the taller man and pulled him along so they could find somewhere quiet to catch up and gossip. Toye dragged his feet as he walked next to her, rolling his eyes and pretending he hated the thought of chatting like bored housewives, but he couldn’t help his lips curving into a smile. 

—---------------------

“Well, if Nixon hadn’t been there… would you have?” Toye hinted at his meaning, not yet comfortable enough to speak the words aloud. 

The pair were sitting, side by side at the head of the man’s bed. With no one around they could speak freely and share their deepest secrets without worry of being overheard.

“I- well… I don’t really know. Maybe.” She thought about it, “Probably.” Birdie shrugged. 

“What?” He prodded, knowing there was more.

“What?” But she played dumb. 

“What else? You promised to tell me everything, remember?” Toye stated matter of factly. He was right, of course but that didn’t stop Birdie from rolling her eyes and huffing before she answered, 

“He was… weird.”

“Weird how? When?” Joe was enjoying the gossiping more than he thought he would, he wanted to know every little detail about her time with Joey. Yes, he had teased her immensely for that. 

“This mornin’… at breakfast… and kinda last night when Winters left the room. He was…. hmmm, distant?” It wasn’t exactly the right word but she could think of another to describe the Californian man. 

“How so?”

“Just… quiet.”

“Liebgott quiet? Yeah, that is weird.” Toye snorted, a grin breaking out on his face. 

“Oh, shut it!” Birdie's words were serious, although she couldn’t help her lips from mirroring his, grinning wide. 

“Maybe… and I can’t believe I’m saying this… Maybe you two just need to talk. Be honest. Ask him why he’s being weird.” Joe supplied, gently shrugging like it was the simplest thing to do. 

“But what if-” She was cut off by her best friend.

“You can spend your whole life saying ‘what if’... but then you’ll never know.”

“That’s… strangely profound.” The southern lady was pleasantly surprised by her friend's words. 

“You saying I’m not smart?”

“NoOo.” She sing-songed, making a face at Toye, one that he copied. “I just wasn’t expecting you to be so…wise.”

“So, you are calling me dumb.” 

“Shut up, genius.” Birdie smirked at the man, pushing her shoulder into his playfully, “And now you.”

“Me?” It was his turn to play dumb.

“Tell me all about you and Luz.” Birdie curled up next to the man while he began his story. 

“Okay well, it started……”

————(flashbacks)————

“Just get me a drink.” Some instinct inside of Toye had grabbed at the front of the shorter man’s jacket and pulled him close. And now, mere inches from Luz’s face, a feeling swirled in the pit of his stomach. 

Joe didn’t miss those big brown eyes flickering down to his lips but it surprised him nonetheless. 

“Hell of an idea.” George’s own lips broke into a grin as he procured a full to the brim beer for the man in front of him. 

Toye quickly remembered where they were; in a room full of their peers. Like a light switch he clicked, remembering he had brought Birdie with him to the bar. He kept his head straight but subtly peeked at her from his peripheral vision. 

She had seen it. 

Whatever little exchange had happened between him and the jokester was witnessed by the easy company woman. Joe mentally prepared himself for a meaningful conversation with his best friend, surely she would bring it up with him at some point. 

He barely had a second to enjoy the drink before the room was called to attention. 

—————————-

The SS Samaria was stuffy. 

Toye had noticed the shift in atmosphere, thick with tension especially after the row with Guarnere and Liebgott. It seemed to set everyone’s emotions alight whether they were Jewish or not. 

Joe wasn’t usually a big talker, so staying quiet and keeping out of any more drama was easy for him. If something did begin to unfold, Toye would head out to get some fresh air. 

Bernadette had shown him an unused spot on the deck that she would escape to when tensions were high and he had somewhat adopted the place for himself. He had run into her a few times and they would sit together, talking but more often than not he would be alone, sitting in silence and enjoying the peace. 

This was one of those times.

So when Toye heard distant footsteps, he naturally assumed they belonged to the southern girl. 

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” Well, that certainly wasn't a southern woman's voice. Confused, Toye turned to find the owner. When the shorter man with deep brown hair and matching chocolate eyes came into his vision, the taller man froze up. 

“Let me guess… Birdie showed you this spot, didn't she?” Luz mused, taking a seat next to Toye. The man from Philly couldn't help but notice how close the pair of them were, he could feel warmth radiating off the shorter man.

“Uh… yeah.” Toye was doing everything he could to keep his mind off the man he sat next to, but it was easier said than done. The images of their faces being so close he had felt Luz’s hot breath mix with his replayed in his head like a movie. All other thoughts left his brain and all he could focus on was George’s mouth.

His pink tinted lips moved so smoothly, creasing and curving with ease- wait a second, they were moving as if the shorter man was speaking. But Toye hadn't been listening.

And now, Luz was looking up at him like he expected an answer. Joe’s heart raced and his cheeks warmed, he was too busy picturing this man’s soft lips on his and forgot to listen. 

Guilt crept through his body, not only was he neglecting a friend’s attempt at conversation but he was also having troublesome thoughts about him. What would Luz think if he had heard Toye’s unorthodox desires? 

“Cat got your tongue?” George teased, nudging his shoulder against Toye’s and bringing him out of his wandering mind. 

Luz looked up at Toye, warm smile on his face and eyes sparkling and in a split moment of weakness, Toye leaned. 

Before he had gotten too close, he caught himself. His body’s automatic reaction to staring into the eyes of the man he had been daydreaming about, didn't go unnoticed by the man in question. 

George’s eyes widened, the movement was so small he wasn't sure if he had really seen it but the pink that dusted Toye’s cheeks told him otherwise.  

The taller man was about to open his mouth to apologise or explain, when Luz stopped him by placing a hand on his forearm. The touch was so gentle it took Joe by surprise. 

“Joe.” Luz’s voice was whispered. He was just as unsure as his counterpart, both men were torn between keeping their yearning hiding or having courage and making a move. 

Neither one wanted to be wrong about this feeling, Luz had picked up on something the night their jump wings were earned. Although this wasn't something he could afford to misinterpret.

Seeing Toye have to hold himself back had given Luz a boost of confidence, he wanted to touch the man and when he did, it felt electric. 

Both men experienced it, whatever charged emotion lay between them and now it was Toye’s turn to be brave.

“George.” His voice was hoarse and quiet but it had captured the shorter man's attention nonetheless. 

Once again, he leaned closer, not stopping until their noses bumped. George let out a small gasp, but made no move to pull away, Toye couldn't help but smirk at his reaction, he found it endearing.

Joe’s hand came up to caress Luz’s cheek, he used his fingers to tilt the brunette's head upwards. 

Mere second before their lips met, a flurry of voices sounded as if someone had opened one of the ships exterior doors and the noise that was inside had seeped out into the cool night.

The duo broke apart, Toye clearing his throat as he did so. They had jumped apart, putting distance between them in an attempt to look like two normal guys who were just talking as friends. 

Whatever door that had been opened, swung shut and closed off the sounds that had startled the two men.

“We should probably talk about that at some point.” George was the one to speak up and disrupt the quiet. Toye nodded in agreement but he could trust his voice not to crack so he kept his mouth closed.

“Just not tonight.” With that, Luz stood, letting his last words echo in Toye’s mind as he left the taller man to ponder. 

A/N: I will be doing my best to keep writing and posting but fair warning, it will be slow going. hopefully y'all stick around x

~ Nex ~

Chapter Twenty eight

[ronsstickyhands]

Prologue

“She had done the impossible, and yet she still felt like a child, holding up a picture for her father’s praise.” – V.E. Schwab

The surgery was a success, and the man, an Irish-American navy admiral, would live to see another day, those were Taylor’s favourite parts of the job, seeing people pull through, seeing people live it made everything worth it. The man had been put in a recovery room a few hours ago by the time Taylor had some time to check on him.

The room was cold, and the white walls definitely didn’t help the case, she checked the man’s vitals and was just about to check on his incision when the door opened.

She froze on the spot when she saw him.

What is he doing here?

Quickly her shoulders straightened as she placed herself beside the hospital bed. The man spared her a brief look before turning to the read-headed man in the hospital bed.

“How is he Doctor?” The man asked, Taylor swiftly snapped back to the task at hand, reporting the patient's condition to his emergency contact.

“He came in with complaints of chest pain, after a thorough examination I determined that we are facing a cardiac tamponade, so he went into emergency surgery, father.” 

The brown almost grey-haired man just stared at her and nodded along as she spoke about his friend's condition. Their conversation was paused by the man waking up, Taylor went back to work, checking him over and performing all of the post surgery tasks. Meanwhile the two men started talking, strangely, like old friends. Her patient Oscar O’Hara brought something out of her cold and distant father, he brought light to his voice and a smile to his face, one that she saw rarely. The smile made her heart ache, she had never once in her 20 years of life been on the receiving end of those, not when she became a surgeon, not when she got married. Never. Instead she was met with anger, distance and coldness from the man who was supposed to love her.

The weird thing she picked up while drawing blood was that he, the man who never as much as patted her on the back, talked proudly of her. He was proud of her, or he was at least acting like it. Captain Garry Willock was practically beaming when he brought in her shooting scores one day, the highest marks Oscar had ever seen, raising an eyebrow clearly impressed with the girl's scores. 

The woman didn’t bother with that, rather she savoured every moment her father showed his appreciation towards her, her work, her skills. 

Her.

Now did that equate years of cold shoulders, orders being barked at her and silent dinners; no, but at that moment all she could focus on was the feeling of being appreciated.

╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸╸

Today the good outweighed the bad, and a smile was plastered across Taylor’s face as she punched out. The locker room was lively, surgeons chatted among themselves, the day shift briefing the night shift on all of the patients. The brunette woman began taking off her white coat, underneath a light pink blouse adorned her body, quickly she slipped off her brown leather flats and put on her heels. Talking with the other doctors, time passed quickly and soon it was time to go home. She put on her coat, picked up her handbag and left.

The winter air was chilly, the wind blowing heavily as if warning Taylor of what’s to come. She had just started walking when a blue Plymouth stopped in front of her, the same car she and her husband shared. The window rolled down and a pair of piercing green eyes met hers. She froze for a moment, before plastering a fake smile on her lips.

“Hey Dollface, thought I’d come pick you up.” The words slurred off of his tongue like butter, that was never a good sign, perhaps he’d been out drinking, otherwise he wouldn’t have come to pick her up.

The smile on her face was one he liked, pleasant but never too flashy. “Oh, thank you, but you didn’t have to John, I know the hospital is out of the way.” 

Swiftly walking around the car and opening the door, Taylor was now sitting in the uncomfortable leather seats of the car.

“No problem Dollface, anything for you.” Those were the words that scared her, not the yelling, not the mean remarks but him acting so normal, so familiar, which could only mean she was in it when they got home. As the car started moving John placed a possessive hand on his wife’s knee, one that wasn't a sign of reassurance but rather a quiet declaration of possession, of power, of the impact he had on her whether she liked it or not. His hand then reached for hers, pulling it towards his lips, a quick peck, but his eyes, they screamed of anger.

She had met John West when she was just sixteen, fresh into medical school, starry-eyed and eager. He had been a teaching assistant, six years her senior, and unlike everyone else, he hadn’t treated her like a kid. That made her feel special, grown-up. Looking back, she realized that was the first warning sign.

Even her parents took a liking to him, he had a way of making a good first impression. But it was all a façade.

John West had once been a light in her life, tall and handsome. The abuse started small, urging her to stay home, distancing her from her friends and family. Then came the shouting. And when it got really bad, Taylor bore the worst of it, bruises hidden where no one else would see.

[1waveshortofashipwreck]

Should've Been Born Later, Nix - Chapter 1: The Fall

Easy Company x Fem!OCs

Synopsis: What will happen when some of Easy Company's finest soldiers fall through a foxhole and into another time?

Words: 1,314

Find the fic's navigation page here !!

Author's Note: HERE WE GO LADS!! The first chapter of my self-serving BoB time travel fic!! If you want to be added to the taglist please let me know !!

Luz was the last one to arrive on the ground, immediately crashing into Malarkey with a resounding thud… Well, resounding for someone as small as Luz. He was the last to drop onto the pile of Easy Company men - a giant pile of limbs, helmets, and olive drab was groaning in pain, bewildered eyes darting in every direction. One minute they were dropping into a foxhole in Bastogne. The next?

Winters was the first to jump to his feet, helping his men find their footing. Up came Nixon, Liebgott, Roe, Guarnere, and Bull Randleman. Speirs and Toye had gotten themselves up and situated, looking to make sure they had all their gear. Luz was still on the ground, trying to get his bearings, while poor Malarkey was doubled over underneath him. “FUCK, LUZ!” Cried Malarkey, his hands shooting to his ribs as his body folded in pain. “I think you broke something!” Malarkey’s feet rammed themselves into Luz’s back, flinging the soldier off of Malarkey and onto his stomach with an “oof!”

“You say that like I did it on purpose!” Luz cried, wincing from the boots in his back. By the time George finally got his feet beneath him, Roe was already looking at Malarkey’s side, inspecting his injury.

The Cajun grimaced and shook his head. “It might be broke, Malark. We should get you to the aid station,” Roe spoke thoughtfully. "Which way sho-" Before the medic could finish his thought, all the boys realized something. They had no idea where they were.

The boys all looked around and took in their surroundings. “Where the fuck are we?” each soldier thought to himself, attempting to find a single scrap of familiarity in the landscape around them. The higher they looked, the taller the walls on either side of the group grew - not tall enough to be skyscrapers, but tall enough to tell the ten men that they were not in Bastogne anymore. What was once a frigid warzone, one step away from death, now became… warm? Sunny? Well, it seemed sunny at the ends of the alleyway.

“...are we in an alley?” Bull mused to no one in particular. He absentmindedly chewed on his Emotional Support Cigar, using this to contain his anxious thoughts and energy.

"It appears so Bull…" Winters replied. He had intended for the sentence to be more assuring, but the men's leader was just as confused as the rest of them. The captain exchanged a glance with Nixon beside him, the only man he was comfortable sharing his worry with. The two looked at each other, their eyes conveying confusion mixed with anxiety - how could this happen? What exactly happened?

"Captain Nixon, you're an intelligence officer right? Do you know where we are sir?" Guarnere asked as he slung his rifle over his shoulder, still taking in the alley around them. The brick buildings on either side of the men provided shade from the sun shining down on the pavement. The alley appeared to be barren, save for a Hershey bar wrapper beside Luz's feet. Bending down to get a closer look, the radioman saw a piece of text on the wrapper that morphed his confusion into panic - "expires January 2023." Before Nixon could answer Guarnere, Luz's shaky voice spoke up.

"Um, Captain Winters? You might wanna see this sir," Luz said as he handed the wrapper to his CO, his mind going a mile a minute. Dick took the wrapper from George and saw the text, scrunching his face as he read the expiration date.

"Nix, how long does it take chocolate to expire?" Winters asked, looking up at his captain.

"Why the hell do you think I'd know that?" Nixon replied, one eyebrow halfway up his forehead. Only after Lewis posed his question did he see the infamous date on the wrapper. Nixon paused for a second before he spoke up, "well surely it would expire way before 2023…"

Upon hearing the year, every man's eyes became the size of dinner plates. "Excuse me, sir? I think I heard you wrong, sounded like you said 2023," Liebgott questioned, a nervous chuckle following his words. He couldn't have heard Nixon right…right? Winters simply handed the wrapper over to Liebgott, the poor man's stomach dropping down below his feet.

"That's not possible, this isn't possible…" Toye muttered under his breath, trying to shake the idea from his head. While all the men were trying to process what Nixon said, Speirs had already made his way to the end of the alley.

"Captain Winters!" He called out, twisting his body to call out behind where he was standing. Winters nodded to Nixon, a silent request to keep an eye on his men, before making his way down to Speirs. The warm sun at the end of the alley was a welcomed surprise to Dick - it felt like forever since he felt mild, comfortable weather. Bastogne was the literal manifestation of hell frozen over, and the sun kissing Dick's skin was its absolute anathema. "Sir, I don't think this is Bastogne," Speirs' comment shook Winters from his mind, reminding the captain of the problem at hand. The two took in the scene around them. Winters thought he was seeing cars - they had four wheels, and they were driving on the street, but they were far beyond any car anyone in the company has ever seen before. The soldiers seem to have landed in a city of some kind. All the street signs were in English, giving Winters a small amount of relief - wherever they were, they spoke the language. Something different stood out to Speirs, though… the noise. It was not bombs exploding and trees breaking like in Bastogne. It was just as loud, but more…lively? The sounds, whatever they were, seemed to celebrate life rather than take it - honking horns, vehicles driving by, music Speirs had never heard before blaring from their windows - he would never admit to it, but Speirs felt a pang of relief knowing he was not in a war zone.

"I'm inclined to agree with you, Ron," Dick replied before hearing their medic call out.

"Sir! We need to get Malarkey to the ai- uh… I guess a hospital," Eugene called out as he made his way towards Winters and Speirs, supporting Easy's other redhead on his shoulder. Malarkey's face twisted in pain as he held his side with the arm that was not slung over Roe's shoulders. Dick nodded in understanding at his medic and stepped a foot out of the alley, getting a better look at the buildings around him. To his right, Winters spotted the red cross universally associated with medicine displayed prominently on a tall, light-colored building riddled with mirrored windows. Beneath the cross were the words "Emergency Room."

"You think they can help Malarkey?" Speirs asked, hopeful but confused at the words. Seeing Roe holding up Malarkey, the officer quickly made his way to Malarkey's other side, taking his arm over his shoulder to help the soldier.

"It's worth a shot, wait here," Winters replied, heading back to the rest of the men to tell them the plan. "Alright men, there's a place that looks like a hospital a short walk from here. Keep your guard up. Just because it doesn't look like Bastogne, doesn't mean we're in friendly territory," he instructed the six men before him, "Keep Speirs, Malarkey, and Roe in the center, I'll lead the way to the hospital." A chorus of "yes sirs" was heard from Luz, Liebgott, Guarnere, Toye, and Bull, while Nixon nodded in understanding and walked up beside Winters.

"Are you sure about this?" Nixon asked under his breath, ensuring only Winters heard his question.

"Got any better ideas?" Dick replied, cautiously emerging onto the sidewalk. The men left the safe haven of their alley and began the trek to save their friend.

~~~~~

Chapter Two

Thank you so much for reading! Please tell me what you think and be on the lookout for Chapter 2: the Hospital!!

Taglist: @love--persevering , @panzershrike-pretz , @executethyself35 , @stolen94 , @dontirrigateme

[indigo-graves]

My Links ao3 wattpad ff.net

Soft | Roy Kent -ao3 -ff.net -wattpad

After | Roy Kent (One Shot) 18+ -ao3 -ff.net -wattpad

Softer | Roy Kent coming soon

This Dance | Joe Liebgott

This Dance Pt. 2 | Joe Liebgott 18+

Falling | Carwood Lipton 18+

Rusty | Lewis Nixon

Rusty pt. 2 | Lewis Nixon 18+

Curahee | Joe Toye

Warmth | Eugene Roe

[darling-heffron]

Our Masterlist:

Hello all and welcome! We are Sol and Esra, two besties writing together, who are obsessed with fictional men. Sol and I have been planning this story for months now, we are so excited to share our work and hope you enjoy! We will be updating the AU slowly as we work through it, please bear in mind we are both busy gals, but we'll try to post one chapter weekly. Sol and I love this BOB fandom and interacting with everyone here, so please don't hesitate to message or leave comments!

Please don't be afraid to send us an ask or a message, our inbox is always open (only if you have brass knuckles)

Sol goes by she/they pronouns and Esra goes by she/her.

General Disclaimer: This story will involve violence, gore, swearing, abuse, SA, death, non-con, family trauma, parental abuse, dead dove: do not eat, just a lot of bad things, please inform us if we have missed anything and we will add it. (We will not be adding this to every chapter, only if we think one needs some extra disclaimers, or if it going to be very bad, we will let you know.)

Also also, this work is purely fictional, based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters and no hate to the men who served in WW2.

Momento Mori

(Band of Brothers Zombie AU) - Teaser

Sam moodboard Mars moodboard

Chapter One: The Plan

Chapter Two: Outbreak

Chapter Three: Peace in Solitude

Chapter Four: A Shoulder to Cry On

Chapter Five: Muddied Hands

Chapter Six: Breaking and Entering

Chapter Seven: And then there were Two

Chapter Eight: The Rules of Mars

Chapter Nine: It's All Fun and Games

Chapter Ten: Stranger Danger

Chapter Eleven: Sleepless Nights of Sam

Chapter Twelve: The More the Merrier

Chapter Thirteen: Here Comes Easy

Chapter Fourteen: First Impressions

Chapter Fifteen: Double Whammy

[wexhappyxfew]

CHAPTER 25 - WE'RE ALL DEAD

June 6th, 1944 - 0218 D-Day Carquebut, Normandy, France War Correspondent Esther Armstrong

Normandy at 0200 in the morning was quieter than I had initially imagined - walking through the thickly wooded forest with the sounds of gunfire coming from all angles but never pointing directly at you was riveting. Riveting in a way where my adrenaline was spiked constantly, even days later. I couldn't find a way to relax, to calm down, to even sleep. Even when I got to the point of running 36 hours straight without sleep, I couldn't find a way to shut my eyes for a second, to fully just shut my brain off. It was exhausting, draining, overwhelming. But with all that happened on the morning on D-Day, how could I have begun to think about something as normal and habitual as sleep? - Esther Armstrong, in her book, Stroke of Luck

[read the rest here on AO3!]

taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow

-> if you would like to be added to the taglist, just let me know! :D

ALSO - chapters 23 and 24 are uploaded, just have been busy on the weekends and forgot to put a post here for them! ch25 is here! <3

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! Part 42 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Fucking hell im sobbing, this is it, the last chapter! Thank you everyone for sticking along with me you are all amazing! I'm so sad this is finished, I feel kinda lost without Em and Don. I'm so sad but also wow I wrote and finished a whole story that's impressive for me. LOVE YOU ALL!!!

For the last time ever, this is based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @imusicaddict, @b00ks1ut, @mstiemountainhop, @awaterfalls, @lovememadly92, @lucyfromtheoldhouse, @blueberry-ovaries, @next-autopsy, @saintmalosunsets, @anaso12 anyone else please let me know.

Time stood still for a split second before the clock ticked forward again. I stood exactly where I had left, my items I had dropped when I was struggling to free myself from the shimmer still laid perfectly where they had landed many months ago. 

I whipped around but all that greeted me was the dark street. 

No shimmer. 

No Don. 

It was as if I was on autopilot, I gathered my belongings into my arms and made my way back to my apartment. I fumbled with my keys before slotting them into the lock and twisting open the door. 

I placed my keys down on the bench with the rest of my belongings before trudging to the bathroom. There in the mirror stood a girl I hardly recognised. 

Her hair was windswept and unkempt, her face was blotchy and red, she wore an army uniform from the 40’s. 

She was out of place and lost. 

Shedding my clothes I stepped into the shower. Unlike before I was more aware of the damage on my skin. Cuts and bruises scattered my arms and legs. Scars and faded injuries covered me from head to toe. The last time I was in this shower I had been a different person. 

I washed myself until my skin turned red from the heat of the water and the scrubbing from my hands. 

Walking to my room, I slumped down in my bed and shut my eyes wishing to never wake again. 

—------------------------------------

The months flew by, I did my best to heal what was broken. I had promised myself that when I retired I would live life to the fullest, if not for me, for Don. 

I threw myself back into my studies, working hard towards my degree. It seemed to be the only thing that could distract me. I also went to therapy, I didn’t speak about the war I had lived through, it would’ve been too hard to explain, also maybe slightly crazy. 

We spoke mostly about the attack that had happened the night before I had left, it impacted me in more ways than I thought, it had closed me off to everyone again. 

My therapist encouraged me to form more bonds and have people in my life who I could trust. But it felt wrong trying to find people to fill the void of the ones I had left behind. So I kept to myself. 

I had tried my hardest to forget and move forward, I didn’t want to linger on the what if’s but the urge was too strong. I would spend weeks in the library scouring World War II books and reports, trying to find the names of the men I had lost. 

But the odd thing was that there was always a 101st Airborne, always an Easy company, but never the names of the men I had served with. 

They appeared to take the same course of action, the events that happened to us, had happened to them. But the men pictured and named were not my Easy men. 

It drove me to the point of insanity. I rushed home and dug all of the things I had brought back with me from the back of my closet. Just to ensure that it had happened, that I didn’t just imagine it all. 

Sitting on the floor surrounded by the items I had stowed away. My uniform, medic bag and phone all were proof that it was real. 

The medic bag sat unopened. I hadn’t been through it at all since I had arrived back. I sat gnawing on my lip, did I open it or not? 

“Fuck it.” I muttered, leaning forward and unbuckling the clasps that held it shut. I pulled it closer, sitting the bag on my lap. 

My fingers brushed over an unfamiliar material, I thought I knew exactly what I had brought back but this felt different. I hastily dragged the item from the bag. 

A gasp left my lips and tears almost immediately streaked down my face. My thumb brushed over the metal, Donald G. Malarkey. It was his dog tag. He had somehow snuck it into my bag and didn’t tell me. 

I could feel rough metal on the other side of the smooth metal. I flipped it over to find, ‘My Love, forever’. The words had been scratched into the back of the tag, Don had done it. I knew his hand writing anywhere. 

Clutching the thin piece of metal to my chest I rocked myself back and forward as I sobbed. It was the closest I was ever going to feel to him ever again. The thought that he wore this so close to his heart for all the time we had been together made me cry even harder. 

I upturned the bag letting the contents spill onto the floor, I rummaged through the belongings like a mad woman. 

Was there anything else he had put in?  

A paper I didn’t recognise was hidden under bandages, I hastily pushed everything else aside grabbing the paper as if it was going to disappear.  

I shook as I stroked my fingers along the unopened parchment that had been folded in half. His scrawly handwriting grace the blank paper. 

‘To Em.’

A shaky breath left my lips as I slowly unfolded the letter. My heart smashed against my ribcage but it felt nice to feel again, even if it was just pain. I had been so numb on autopilot. I couldn’t wait anymore, I needed to know what he had written. 

 My beloved Em,

I don’t know when you are reading this, but I hope that you are well. Know that I miss you dearly, and that I think of you always. 

I write this now after you had left to go and say your goodbyes. 

It took me a while to understand, but I do now. I know you inside and out, I know you as kind and gentle. You only want to share your love and happiness. 

You made the brave decision to give up everything so that we might have a chance to live and be free. You have made a sacrifice I never think I could do, and for that I admire you dearly, Em. You’re so courageous, your heart is unshakable. 

That is why I love you. Your soul is pure and good. I love your being and essence and everything that makes you, you. 

I love the way your curls fall into your face when you laugh, and the way your eyes crinkle at the sides when you smile. I will miss the sound of your melodic voice, and soft lips. I’ll miss the way you tell stories and the hugs you give. I miss you even now, when I know you’re only mere metres away. 

There will not be a day that will go by that you won’t be on my mind. Sleeping or awake you will forever be at the forefront of my thoughts. When I am sad, happy, excited, depressed, lonely, or content I wish to only share my thoughts with you. I will never not talk about you, your name will forever be on my lips.   

I hope you have found my small gift, and that you hold it close to your heart and think of me. 

Know that I am well Em. 

I am content with your decision. I will live for you. 

I hope you do the same, I hope you reach all of your dreams. 

There’s a quote I love, “missing someone is your heart’s way of telling you that you love them.” 

I miss you more than life itself, so I’ll love you for infinity. May my love for you reach you in your time now and you feel me wrapping myself around you now. I wish I had a photo of you, it scares me that I might forget your face. 

But the men and I will keep you alive in our memories, I will share every story I have of you. I will go home and tell everyone that I was going to be wed to the most beautiful girl in the land but she made a decision that let us be here today, and in turn she couldn’t stay.  

Please Em, my only wish is for you to be happy. Surround yourself with people who love you like we loved you. I need to know that you are being loved and cared for.

I don’t want to finish this letter, I wish I could write you pages and pages and fill them with the love I have for you, but alas there are not enough words in the universe that could perfectly summarise my feelings for you. But I will leave you with this poem.

I will love you as long as the sun burns in the sky,

As long as the moon shines its light into the dark night, 

Until the raging blue oceans become calm and run dry. 

I will love you until the end of time. 

With all my love, I hope to find you again. I will wait for you in every lifetime. 

Donald Malarkey, your one true love now and forever. 

The sobs that left my mouth were short and sharp as I struggled to intake air. My tears landed on the paper as I clutched it to my chest. I had read the words over and over again, I could hear his voice in the writing. 

After my sobs had subsided I continued to search through the contents of the bag. A flash of metal caught my attention. A dry chuckle left my throat, Speirs’ lighter lay amongst my belongings. His initials were carved into the metal, it didn’t come with a note, but the act alone was heartbreaking. It was Ron’s trusty lighter, one that he didn’t part with easily, but still he had slipped it into my bag for me to have to remember him by. 

I woke up the next morning on the floor of my room surrounded by memories. I slipped Don’s tag around my neck and tucked it into my shirt. Just when I was losing faith they had given me the motivation to live again. 

So I did just that. I opened myself up again, I graduated and started a new job as a full time nurse. I did as they had asked and surrounded myself with people who loved and cared for me. But no one could ever take Don’s place, that part of my heart was tightly locked which he only had the key to. 

A year passed and the hurt lessened. Never did they leave my thoughts, the amount of times I went to share stories only to bite my tongue. But I wrote them all down in my diary to ensure that the memories I had of them were never forgotten. 

—--------------------------------

“Hey Em, patient in room 12 is wanting to speak to you.” Izzy, the nurse I had befriended when I had started, peered her head into the nurses office. 

“Sure.” I smiled brightly at her, getting up from the notes I was finishing. I made my way to the room, assisting the patient to unhook from the fluids they were getting so that they could go to the toilet. 

“Em!” I heard from behind me. I sat the patient back down on their bed as we had made our way back from the bathroom. 

“Yeah?” I turned to see an excitable Izzy. 

“The girls and I were going to go out for dinner tonight. Come!” It was a Friday for the group and  everyone seemed to be very thrilled for the weekend. 

“Um…” I teasingly thought about the offer. The brunette didn’t let me think long, rushing into the room to slap me on the shoulder. 

“You’re coming!” She tugged gently at my arm. 

“Says who?” I wound her up more. I had befriended her as she had reminded me of George. She was bright and funny, always with a big smile on her face. We had both started at the same time and bonded over being ‘new and dumb’, we joked. It was easy to make friends with her, it was as if they had known each other in a past life. 

“Emily Lane!” She full named me, causing me to giggle. 

“Shall I pick you up?” I asked as I sauntered away. 

“AHHHH!” Izzy squealed in delight, running after me to pounce on my back. “We are going to have so much fun!” 

I never picked up Izzy, she had followed me home. Demanding we got ready together. I watched her dance around the room singing into the hairbrush she had found lying around. She looked insane having half of her eye makeup on as she sung poorly into the makeshift microphone. 

“Thank you, thank you.” Izzy bowed to the non-existent crowd taking in her applause. 

We finished our makeup, mucking around wasting time we didn’t have doing a fashion show, which was basically Izzy prancing around like an idiot and me curled over in hysterics. 

“If you keep going not only are we going to be so late, my makeup is going to be ruined!” I chucked a pillow from the couch at her head. 

Finally we made it to dinner only ten minutes late. We shared good food and stories around the table. I smiled, glancing around the table at the people who were in my life. Don would’ve been proud of me. 

Izzy squeezed my hand from under the table as she lent her head on my shoulder. “I have a surprise and you can’t say no.” 

I pretended to be mad at her but the smile stuck to my lips as she fluttered her eyelashes at me. 

“What is it?” I asked, a huge grin broke onto her face. 

“Karaoke!” She cheered as did the rest of the table. “You have to come, I’ve invited some of my friends too.” Izzy elbowed me in the side. 

The older nurses with children and earlier bedtimes left, leaving the younger nurses with more energy to do karaoke. Izzy’s friends slowly trickled in joining us in our fun night out. All of them were lovely and so funny. I wiped the tears that leaked from my eyes as Izzy and Lyla sang a duet together, they were so off pitch but that didn’t stop them. 

They plonked down next to me out of breath. “Your turn!” The girls pushed me from my seat. I looked back into the crowd and they smiled excitedly up at me. I picked a random song.  

Stay by Rihanna played out from the speakers. I sang along as the group cheered and whooped. I didn’t care if I sounded bad. I sang loudly as I waved my hand in the air. 

The room door swung open and I lost my words. There in the doorway was a face that I couldn't forget. 

“SING!!” Lyla cheered. But I couldn’t, nothing worked, my mouth hung open and tears filled my eyes. 

I watched Izzy jump up from her seat and dragged the person into the room. 

“Em!” She ran towards me with the person in tow. “This is my friend, Don.” 

It was him, head to toe, he looked exactly like my Don. 

“Pleased to meet you, Izzy has told me a lot about you.” The man stuck out his hand for me to shake but I was still so frazzled. His voice was exactly the same. I blinked, pinching my leg to make sure I wasn’t in some weird dream. 

“Are you alright, you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” The modern Don tilted his head in concern. 

“I’m fine.” I uttered out in shock, I politely shook his hand, almost melting at his touch. It was the same. Had he come back to me? 

“Have we met before? You just seem familiar.” He asked. Izzy stood between us as we stared at with a confused look on her face. 

“I’ll leave you guys to it.” She departed the conversation, leaving us staring at each other with our hands still connected.   

“Do you want to come to the bar with me? It's a bit loud here.” He asked, never taking his hand from mine. I nodded, my mouth still hung open. 

We left the small karaoke room we occupied and made our way back over to the main bar. 

“So do we know each other?” Don asked again. 

“No we don’t.” I shook my head. 

“Well I want to change that.” His smile grew wide as he stepped closer to me. “I don’t know why but you feel important.” 

And at the moment I knew everything was going to be ok. 

Because he had found me again.

Just like he had promised. 

---------------------------------------------------

THE END!

[mccall-muffin]

Love vs. Hate - Part 24 // Joe Liebgott x OC

Summary: Just as Liv was finally reunited with Joe, they are being separated once more. Her only light - Don. But then the horrors of war show their ugly face once more.

Warnings: Language, war wounds, loss

A/N: Have I already said that I kinda *hate* writing these things in Bastogne... It makes me feel sad :( And it only gets worse guys.

Here is my Masterlist

Taglist: @brassknucklespeirs, @liebgotts-lovergirl, @lieutenant-speirs, @mads-weasley, @emmylindersson

Late in the afternoon on January 3, we returned to our old position in the woods overlooking Foy. And it was a massacre. I walked next to Don, looking around, wondering what kind of hell the men must've been through.

"Holy fuck", I breathe and look at Don, who frowns.

Suddenly, we hear Joe Toye behind us, calling out. "You gotta be fucking kidding me. Someone's gonna die. Someone's gonna fucking die. Guarnere, look at this shit!"

I walked over to Joe. "What's got your panties in a bunch, Joe?"

"One of those 1st Battalion fuckers took a dump in my foxhole", he answers, and I lift my eyebrow, looking at him.

"I think they shit in everyone's foxhole, Joe," Bill chimes in and looks around. We are all thinking the same, as Bill says it. "I don't think they wanted to spend much time above ground."

While we were in the Bois Jacques, the Germans had been shelling our old position. There were signs of tree bursts everywhere. That got our attention.

As I navigate my way back to the foxhole that Don, Bill, and I have begrudgingly come to call 'home', the weight of command sits heavily on my shoulders, yet the camaraderie among us offers a peculiar comfort in this hellscape. The sight of the shattered woods, a grim reminder of the fury unleashed upon us, fails to dampen the spirit of defiance that binds us together.

Settling into the cramped space with Don, I catch him casting a sidelong glance, the kind that speaks volumes without a word needing to be passed between us. "I meant to ask you before... How did it go with Babe?" he finally inquires, his voice a mix of concern and curiosity. The question hangs in the air, a ghost of our last mission that had almost broken us.

Taking a deep breath, I recount the ordeal, not sparing the details of the harrowing decision to retreat under fire, leaving Julian's body behind. It was a moment that tested us all, pushing us to the brink of what we thought we could endure. "Babe was... devastated," I begin, the memory still fresh, painful. "He thought we'd left Julian behind for good. That we'd abandoned not just a fellow soldier, but a promise."

I pause, the weight of leadership and the decisions it forces upon you never getting lighter, only more familiar. "But we went back for him," I continue, the resolve in my voice mirroring the determination that had surged through us that day. "Took a few men, dodged more bullets than I care to count, and we got Julian. Got him and his belongings," I add, the tangible proof of our success being the personal effects we managed to salvage — a class ring, a wallet, and a watch, symbols of a life cut tragically short.

Don listens intently, his expression a mix of relief and respect. "And Babe?" he probes further, knowing all too well the emotional turmoil that must have followed.

A small smile tugs at my lips as I remember Babe's reaction. "Let's just say, he was more than relieved. He hugged me so tight I thought he might never let go," I admit, the raw emotion of the moment breaking through the soldier's facade I've had to maintain. "He understood then, the choices we have to make. That sometimes leadership isn't about the hard call, but about going back to make things right, even when the odds are against us."

Don nudges me gently, breaking the silence that had settled between us as we took refuge in the dimly lit foxhole, the sounds of war a constant echo in the background. "So, you finally saw Joe again, huh?" he asks, a hint of mischief in his tone, but not without a genuine interest. His gaze drifts to the scar beneath my eye, a permanent reminder of the war's brutality, now seen by Joe for the first time.

With a heavy sigh, I nod, the memory of the encounter flooding back with vivid clarity. "Yeah, I did," I start, the cold of the night biting at my skin, yet the warmth of the memory offering a temporary respite. "He... he saw this," I gesture to my scar, the words trailing off as the image of Joe stepping closer, his hand gently lifting my chin to meet his gaze, replays in my mind.

Don, sensing the depth of the moment, leans in closer, the flicker of interest in his eyes now mixed with concern. "How'd that go?" he prods gently, rolling a cigarette between his fingers, a habit that offers him a semblance of normalcy in the chaos that surrounds us.

Taking a deep breath, I let the scenes unfold, painting the picture of that raw, vulnerable exchange. "It was intense," I confess, the cold seeping through the fabric of my uniform doing little to dampen the warmth that memory ignites within me. "He just... wrapped me in his arms, Don. Said the only thing that mattered was that I was alive, standing in front of him." The words tumble out, a mix of awe and disbelief at the depth of emotion Joe had displayed.

The mention of tears and the overwhelming comfort found in Joe's embrace brings a softness to Don's usually playful demeanor. "God damn," he murmurs, lighting the cigarette now perched between his lips, the glow briefly illuminating his face in the darkness. "Sounds like a goddamn movie scene, Sweetheart."

I chuckle, despite the seriousness of our conversation. "Felt like it, too," I admit, the reality of the war creeping back as the sound of distant artillery fire reminds us of our present. "He said he missed me, Don. That he couldn't stop thinking about me. And I... I told him the same."

Don takes a drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling into the night air, a silent testament to our shared anxieties and fears. "You two are something else, you know that?" he says, exhaling slowly. "Fucking war tearing everything apart, and here you two are, finding your way back to each other."

The conversation shifts then, to the uncertainty of tomorrow, the constant danger we face, and the stark reality that any moment could be our last. Yet, in recounting that moment with Joe, a glimmer of hope flickers to life in the depths of my heart.

"Yeah," I agree, a wistful smile playing on my lips. The weight of Joe's words, the promise of a future uncertain yet filled with the possibility of moments stolen from the clutches of war, settles around us like a blanket, offering a semblance of comfort in the cold.

Don nods, his expression softening. "You hang onto that, Sweetheart. Whatever this fucking war throws at us, you hang onto that hope." He flicks the remnants of his cigarette into the darkness, the ember briefly lighting up the night before fading into oblivion.

"Yeah," I whisper, the resolve strengthening within me. "Together."

And as we sit in silence, the camaraderie between us a steadfast anchor amidst the chaos, I can't help but cling to the promise of a future where the war is but a distant memory, and love, in all its forms, triumphs over the desolation that seeks to consume us.

The sudden appearance of Lip cuts through the night like a knife, his voice low but firm as he reminds us of the noise and light discipline. The reminder snaps us back to reality, the gravity of our situation pressing down like a physical weight. "Don, Bill, Liv, keep it down," he says, a sharp edge to his voice that brooks no argument. "Liv, need you to make a few rounds, check on everyone."

Without a moment's hesitation, I nod, understanding the necessity of his request. "Got it, Lip," I respond, my tone equally serious. Pulling my jacket tighter around me, I step out into the cold night, the air crisp and unforgiving as I begin my rounds, the solemn responsibility of checking on my brothers-in-arms weighing heavily on my shoulders.

The camp is eerily quiet as I move from foxhole to foxhole, the muted whispers of my comrades barely breaking the silence. The tension is palpable, a silent testament to the constant threat looming over us. And then, without warning, the ominous sound of incoming bombings shatters the stillness, a terrifying harbinger of chaos.

"Incoming!" My voice cuts through the night, a desperate warning as I sprint back towards our foxhole. The echo of Lip's voice amplifies the alarm, his command carrying across the camp with urgency. "Get to cover!" he yells, mirroring my own panic.

Don's voice reaches me next, laced with concern and fear. "Liv!" he calls out, the single word a plea for my safety. My heart races, adrenaline surging as I navigate the treacherous path back, the sounds of explosions growing closer with each passing second.

Finally, I slip into our foxhole, the familiar faces of Don and Bill a sight for sore eyes. "I'm here," I pant, barely catching my breath as we huddle together, bracing for the impact. The world outside explodes into chaos, the deafening roar of bombs tearing through the night, obliterating everything in their path. We cling to each other, a desperate bid for comfort in the face of impending doom.

And then, as suddenly as it began, silence falls, a haunting absence of sound that is almost more terrifying than the bombardment itself. We remain still, barely daring to breathe, the aftermath of the attack settling around us like a heavy blanket. The smoke, the debris, the stench of explosives hanging in the air—it's a scene from a nightmare, yet all too real.

Don's hand finds mine in the darkness, his grip tight and reassuring. Bill is beside us, his presence a silent pillar of strength. We don't need words; our shared experiences, the bond forged in the crucible of war, speak volumes. In this moment, in the aftermath of terror, we are reminded of the fragility of life and the unbreakable bond that ties us together.

The silence that envelops us in the aftermath of the bombing is suffocating, a stark contrast to the chaos that had reigned moments before. We're left in a limbo, the uncertainty of whether it's truly over hanging heavy in the air. Don, ever the proactive one among us, breaks the tense silence first. "We should check if anyone was hit," he suggests, his voice low but filled with concern.

Bill, however, is quick to remind us of the grim reality we face. "That's exactly what they want, Malark" he counters, his tone grave. "For us to pop our heads up so they can pick us off." The wisdom in his words is undeniable, a hard-earned lesson from countless nights just like this one. Yet, the tension between the need to help our brothers and the instinct for self-preservation is palpable.

Then, cutting through the night, a sound none of us can ignore reaches our ears—a whimper, followed by painful moaning and then desperate cries for help. It's a sound that chills to the bone, the unmistakable voice of a man in agony.

"You hear that?" asks Don.

"Is that Joe?" adds Bill, and the three of us look in the direction the cries for help are coming from.

Recognition dawns on us simultaneously; it's Joe Toye. The realization hits like a physical blow, the urgency to act clashing with the knowledge of the risk involved.

Bill's reaction is immediate; his decision is made the moment he recognizes the voice of his best friend. "I'm going to check on him," he declares, determination etching his features. It's a testament to the bonds forged in the heat of battle, the unspoken vow to never leave a man behind.

But as he makes to move, I reach out, grabbing his arm in a desperate attempt to hold him back. "Bill, it's too dangerous," I plead, the fear of losing another person close to me making my voice tremble. The thought of Bill—or anyone else—venturing out into what could very well be a death trap is unbearable.

Bill, however, is unwavering, the resolve in his eyes unshakable. "I can't leave him out there," he states firmly, his voice laced with an emotion that brooks no argument. It's a declaration of loyalty, of the deep-seated belief that we are all we have out here, the only family within reach amidst the horrors of war.

The conflict within me is torturous. The strategic part of my mind screams that Bill's impulse, while noble, could lead to disaster. Yet, the human part, the part that has seen too much death and too much suffering, understands all too well. In this hellish landscape, where tomorrow is never promised, the bonds of friendship, of brotherhood, become our strongest lifeline.

As Bill prepares to brave the unknown for Joe, the weight of command, of responsibility, bears down on me. It's a harrowing reminder of the choices we are forced to make and the risks we take for those we consider family. In the end, all we can do is cover for him, pray, and wait, hoping against hope that both Bill and Joe make it back to us. The reality of war spares no one, but it's in these moments of selfless bravery that the true strength of our bonds is tested.

The night turns into a living nightmare as Bill disappears into the darkness, his determination to reach Joe pushing him beyond the relative safety of our foxhole. The minutes stretch into an agonizing eternity, each second ticking by with the weight of a lifetime. And then, as if the very heavens conspire against us, another barrage of bombings rains down, each explosion closer, more ferocious than the last.

Don reacts instinctively, pulling me close, our bodies pressed tightly together in a futile attempt to offer each other some semblance of protection. The ground shakes beneath us, the air filled with the deafening roar of explosions and the ear-splitting shrieks of incoming artillery. We're caught in the maelstrom, powerless against the fury unleashed around us.

As the cacophony dies down, leaving behind a ringing silence, my frustration and fear boil over. "Fucking hell, Bill's a goddamn idiot," I grumble into the darkness, anger laced with dread at the thought of what might have happened to him and Joe. My heart races, pounding against my chest as if trying to escape the inevitable truth of war's cruelty.

Don, ever the voice of reason even in the midst of chaos, catches the shift in my posture. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" he asks, his voice tight with concern.

But before I can answer, a desperate call pierces the night, cutting through the remnants of explosions and the heavy silence that follows. "Medic!" The call, repeated, becomes a beacon, guiding me towards the source, towards my duty.

"Doing my job," I say, a determined edge to my voice as I pull away from Don's protective embrace. "Stay down," I instruct him and the others I pass, each step taking me closer to the unknown.

Then, almost colliding with Lip in the dim light, I barely register his presence before the sight before us brings me to a standstill. My blood turns to ice, the scene unfolding like a grotesque tableau of war's indiscriminate brutality. There lie Bill and Joe Toye, their bodies a testament to the horror of what we're fighting against. Joe's leg is a mangled mess, blown off from the knee down, while Bill's is similarly destroyed, the carnage nearly too much to comprehend.

"Fucking hell," the words escape me, a whisper lost in the chaos. The reality hits hard, the sight of two of my brothers reduced to this state, igniting a fury and sorrow so profound it threatens to overwhelm me.

But this is no time for despair. Shaking off the shock, I kneel beside them, my training taking over as I try to assist Doc Roe with assessing their injuries. The urgency is palpable, every second counting as I help to stabilize them, to do what I can amidst the madness.

This is the reality of war, a reality we live day in and day out. It's brutal, unforgiving, and indiscriminate in its cruelty.

As Doc Roe and I work in tandem, the urgency of the situation tying our movements together with practiced efficiency, Bill's voice cuts through the tension. "Gimme a smoke, would ya?" he asks, his voice strained but tinged with that unmistakable Philly accent, rough around the edges but familiar in its resilience.

Without hesitation, I fish out a cigarette from my pack, lighting it and placing it gently between his lips. Turning to Joe, I offer him one as well, our eyes meeting in a silent exchange of solidarity and understanding. The simple act, mundane under any other circumstances, takes on a profound significance here amidst the snow and blood.

I can't help but glance back at Bill, a mix of admonishment and relief in my eyes. "Told you it was too fucking dangerous," I say, the words heavy with the weight of what could have been lost. But Bill, even in pain, manages a laugh, a sound that carries more warmth than the cold night air could ever leech from us.

"Sweetheart, you know me..." he says, the term carrying with it the weight of all the battles we've fought together, a testament to the bond forged in the crucible of war. It's a farewell, though neither of us says it, as he's loaded onto a stretcher and carried away, his silhouette disappearing into the night.

Joe follows soon after, the severity of his injuries casting a pall over the makeshift triage area. As he's taken away, the reality of the situation, the sheer brutality and randomness of it all, finally hits. I'm left kneeling in the snow, the cold seeping through my uniform, a stark reminder of the harshness of our existence.

The hand that falls on my shoulder is both unexpected and immensely comforting. Don, his presence a steady constant in the ever-changing chaos of war, stands beside me, his own grief and concern mirrored in his eyes. Don, like me, was close with Guarnere and Toye, the bonds of brotherhood tying us all together in ways that words can scarcely describe.

"Fucking hell, Liv," he murmurs, his voice a mix of anger, sorrow, and exhaustion. "This is a goddamn mess." His grip tightens, a silent show of support, of shared pain and determination to keep moving forward, no matter the cost.

"Yeah, it is," I reply, my voice low, the enormity of the night's events settling in. Together, we stand in silence, a moment of mourning for what's been lost and what's still at stake. The war rages on, indifferent to the lives it upends, the dreams it shatters.

But in this moment, there's a silent vow made between us, a promise to keep fighting, not just for our survival, but for those who can no longer stand beside us. The bond we share, strengthened by adversity, becomes our beacon in the darkness, guiding us forward in a world torn asunder by war.

As we help each other up, ready to face whatever comes next, the resolve in our hearts is clear. We will endure, we will fight, and we will remember. For Bill, for Joe, for all those we've lost. This is our burden, our honor, and our duty.

As I look up, I see George standing there, still looking down at the place where Bill and Joe just lay. I walk up to him and put my hand on his shoulder when Lip walks up to us.

"How's Buck?" he asks, and we all look over to where Buck is sitting on a log, rubbing his face. George doesn't answer. "Luz, how's Buck?"

"He- He's fine." George finally answers, and Lip looks at me.

"You sure?", Lip asks.

"Yes, he's fine," George repeats and looks at Lip.

I sigh deeply, my gaze wandering to Buck once more before I look back at Lip. "I think you should probably go talk to him now."

Lip looks back at me and slowly nods. "All right."

[zamadness]

Dog Bite Demo

ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: ᴀɴʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ʙᴀɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ɪꜱ ꜱᴛʀɪᴄᴛʟʏ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ ɪꜱ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴀꜱ ɴᴏ ᴅɪꜱʀᴇꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟ ʜᴇʀᴏ’ꜱ.

Might not fallow the miniseries to 100%.

Training Grounds, Aldbourne — Late 1943

“Alright, gentlemen!” Vivian called out, standing in front of a row of Easy Company men sprawled on crates, logs, or just the grass. Her arms were crossed, and Scout stood alert at her side, ears pricked, eyes scanning. “Today’s lesson: don’t mess with the dog.”

Scout barked once, as if to agree.

“Scout’s trained in controlled aggression,” Viv continued, patting the dog’s shoulder. “If she perceives a threat—one I cue, mind you—she reacts. This is useful in enemy territory and defense scenarios.”

“Or when someone eats her pinecone stash,” Luz muttered to Perconte. “She nearly bit my ankle off.”

Viv smirked. “That was your fault.”

“Who’s the lucky meat shield?” Malarkey called out.

“I volunteered,” Bull said with a dramatic sigh as he trudged into the center of the grass clearing, shrugging on the thick, padded bite sleeve. “Because none of you twigs could survive it.”

“I take offense to that,” Babe said, adjusting his helmet. “I am a solid... twig.”

“You’re about to be a solid chew toy,” Luz chimed in.

Viv nodded once to Bull. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he muttered. “Let’s go, Cujo.”

Scout’s ears perked at the tone. Viv narrowed her eyes. “I wouldn’t antagonize her.”

“Oh no,” Bull said dramatically. “I’m terrified.”

Viv gave a quiet command in German.

Scout’s body went still. Tense. Focused.

Then—

She launched.

A blur of fur and muscle, she covered the distance between them in seconds, her paws tearing up the dirt. Bull braced—

WHAM.

Scout slammed into the padded sleeve, locking her jaws around it and twisting her body with the practiced force of a hundred drills.

Bull stumbled.

Then he tumbled.

Like a felled tree, the big man crashed to the ground with a grunt, Scout still gripping the sleeve, her tail wagging like mad as she straddled his chest.

“—Holy hell!” Bull wheezed.

The company exploded in laughter.

“He went down like a sack of bricks!”

“She took him out like a damn tiger!”

Luz was already doubled over, tears in his eyes. “I can’t—she hit harder than a Kraut mortar!”

From the ground, Bull groaned. “She hits harder than a Kraut.”

Scout, still gripping the sleeve, let out a pleased little growl.

Viv strode over and gave a short command. Instantly, Scout released and sat primly at attention beside Bull’s prone body.

Bull looked up at her, dazed. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Scout licked his forehead like it was the easiest victory of her life.

More laughter followed as Guarnere helped Bull to his feet.

“Never thought I’d see the day Bull Randleman got taken down by a dog.”

Viv chuckled. “To be fair, she thinks you’re playing. If she thought it was real, she’d have gone for the throat.”

That sobered the laughter just a little.

“She’s sweet,” Viv added, “but she’s ours. Remember that.”

Scout barked once, trotted over to Viv, and leaned her full weight into her side.

“You spoil her,” Perconte said.

“Of course I do,” Viv said, scratching behind Scout’s ears. “She just saved your buddy. She gets a whole damn steak tonight.”

“Can I get one too?” Bull muttered, wincing as he rotated his shoulder.

“Only if you roll over and fetch,” Luz teased.

Later that Night

Scout trotted by Bull’s bunk and dropped something at the foot of his cot.

A pinecone.

Bull blinked. Then smiled.

“Truce?”

Scout huffed, curled up beside Viv’s cot, and didn’t answer.

But the pinecone said enough.

Band of Brothers Masterlist

Feedback/Reblogs are appreciated!

Episode Tie-In: Carentan Masterpost

[next-autopsy]

A/N: Well, hi there! WTH TWENTY CHAPTERS! I can’t believe it!

Just want to thank everyone who has liked, rebloged, commented or just reads! I love and appreciate each and everyone of y'all x

Based on the actors portrayal/hbo show and written with no disrespect to the real life veterans. Also all images found on Pinterest.

TW: i dont think there are any... maybe swearing?

Tags: @malarkgirlypop, @panzershrike-pretz

Made of Glass

Chapter twenty: Call Her Bluff

The entire event of the previous night played in her mind on a loop. She hadn’t slept much, instead choosing to lie awake in her bed reminiscing about the time spent stargazing with Joe. 

They had laid there on the scratchy blanket until after lights out, then the pair were forced to sneak back to Bernadette’s barracks without being caught. Plus Joe had to repeat the whole sneaking around schtick to get to his own barracks. 

Now that the idea of crushing on the Californian man had been brought to the forefront of her mind, it was all Birdie could think of.

At first she disagreed, Joe was mean to her: why would she like someone who calls her names? But then she remembered how fast her heart was beating when he told her she belonged. His comment had sat with her for weeks, echoing in her head constantly. Her own flesh and blood hadn’t believed in her and yet Joe did. Maybe a crush wasn’t that far fetched. 

“Well someone’s happy this morning!” Charlotte commented, watching Birdie as she skipped from one side of her cot to the other, tucking in the crisp white sheet as she went. 

“Yeah, considering you came back so late.” Lucy smirked, all the girls had an inkling as to why the Mississippi born lady was so chipper. They had bets on which guy had captured her attention, little did they know it was not the obvious choice: Joe Toye.

“Sorry, Mother. I’ll make sure to be home ‘fore curfew.” Bernadette played along, teasingly rolling her eyes towards the Fox company woman. 

“So…?” Blythe bounced on her bed, waiting to hear what tales the previous night held.

“So what?” She played dumb, continuing to flatten out her bedsheets and fluff her pillows. Even Connie, who didn’t typically approve of gossip had scooted closer, intrigued and curious. 

“Who’s the guy?” Charlotte burst, she couldn’t take much more of the coy bullshit, she just wanted to be privy to the latest discussion.

“Please tell us!” Blythe added, begging the southern woman to just rip the band aid off.  

“There’s no guy. Not like that by any means, fraternising is against the rules, ya know?” She wasn’t really sure how to explain a schoolgirl crush, especially one she wasn’t even sure was requited. 

“But if it wasn’t, you would’ve?” Lucy waggled her eyebrows at her suggestively. She understood the implication and of course her cheeks tinted pink, the thought got her bashful. Birdie had to reign in her thoughts before they ran wild. She didn’t know if Joe even thought of her like that, so there was no point in fantasizing about something that had no chance to come to fruition.

“…no…” Birdie mumbled the word, fidgeting with the hem of her ODs and biting her bottom lip to try to hide a smile. Despite her attempt at checking herself, the imagery of how soft Joe’s lips might feel on her own would not vacate her mind. 

“Never play poker, Bernadette Coldwell. You can’t bluff for shit.” Lucy laughed, shaking her head. 

—-----------------

Yet another failed practice manoeuvre led by Captain Sobel had Easy company in despair. The afternoon mood had plummeted meaning not much chit-chat at the lunch table. 

It was a Friday and Birdie still hadn’t worked up the courage to tell her friends about her upcoming birthday, it wasn’t really a good time, especially with this morning's loss.

Plus she and most of the company had their weekend passes taken away because Sobel was having a tough week. It was dejecting to say the least, so when several letters and a parcel arrived for her mid meal, she perked up. 

The package was from her family, as were most of the letters. Some came from highschool friends and neighbours, mentioning some video on TV that she had apparently appeared in, enticing young women to sign up and do their part for the country. 

“What is it? Your birthday?” George had joked, but as he thought about the statement he began to realise he had known Birdie for close to a year and was yet to celebrate her birthday. His face went serious, smile dropped, “Is it?” 

“Almost.” The southerner winked at her brown eyed friend while tucking away a letter she had finished reading. 

“What? Why didn’t you say anything? When is it? What day?” George spat out all at once, hardly leaving space to inhale. 

“Breathe Luz!” Birdie laughed.

“Not until you tell me when!” He puffed up his cheeks and scrunched his eyes closed, holding in his breath. His face coloured a light shade of pink that slowly got darker. 

“Don’t you dare say anything, Little Bird.” Guarnere grinned, holding a hand out to stop her girl from intervening. George held on for as long as he could but ended up bursting and spluttering within thirty seconds. 

“I almost died! You have to tell me now?” The radioman was leaning so far over the table he may as well have been on top of it. 

Liebgott had emptied his tray and was walking past Birdie’s table toward the dining hall door when he overheard George yelling at the girl and couldn’t help himself. 

“Tell you what?” He chimed in, curious to hear the girl speak. She smiled at him but before she could say anything, Luz butted in, “Birdie’s birthday is soon but she won't say when.”

“Well if you gave me a second…” She paused, giving her overactive buddy a look, “You’d know it's on Sunday.”

“What?! That's so soon! Give us some warning, lady! I don't even have a gift or-”

“Luz! Calm down.” Birdie couldn't help but giggle at his antics, “Your presence is gift enough.” It was cheesy but she meant it. She didn’t want gifts from anyone or special treatment. She missed home and her family and she knew any gifts she received would be tainted with the homesick feeling that grew in her chest day by day. 

“I’d get a refund if I were you.” Toye jested, he smirked at George, then flicked him a quick wink so the man knew he was kidding. 

“Hey!” George exclaimed, slightly offended by the comment. He began explaining to Toye and Guarnere how amazing he was and how truly blessed they were to know him. 

“Sunday, huh?” Lieb leaned closer to the almost birthday girl, lowering his voice so only the two could participate in this conversation.

“Hmm? Oh… yeah. Sunday.” She had been watching Luz go off on her two closest friends but her attention was pulled to him and now she couldn't tear it away. She noticed the deeper tone he used with her and how he wanted her undivided focus, Birdie had to force herself not to blush. 

“Ask me when my birthday is.” His voice was barely a whisper. Was he doing that on purpose? 

“When’s your birthday, Joe?” Birdie whispered back, looking up at him as he leaned on the table. She blinked her eyes waiting for his answer.

“Monday.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. They basically shared a birthday! A grin broke out on her face and she squealed, “No way! Really?!” This gained the awareness of the three men next to her.

“Uh… hey, what the hell is going on?” Toye said, astonished at the behaviour change between the two who typically only fought and called out names at each other.

“What?” Birdie tilted her head at him, pretending not to know why Toye had questioned them. She knew exactly why he was confused but she couldn’t say anything, lest she embarrass herself.

“You two are… talking?” Bill spoke, just as astounded as the man next to him. Bill and Toye were arguably Birdie’s closest friends and they had no idea her and Lieb were suddenly on good terms; it shook both men to their core. They thought Birdie hated that man but here they were chatting like old mates. 

“Yeah?” Lieb tilted his head too, feigning confusion. Toye noted the mimicked mannerism, he would surely be interrogating Birdie later. 

“Not yelling…” Bill was still in the dark, genuinely befuddled, “Or trying to kill each other?” 

George smiled and kept quiet for once, he knew exactly what was going on here, and he had good money on the pair hooking up before the end of the year. It looked like he would be winning said bet the way things were going.

“Didn’t you hate him last week?” Bill went on, trying to figure out what had transpired, “Yeah, the words you used were: Hate him with the fire of a thousand suns.”

“Poetic.” Liebgott nodded at the woman, his signature smirk plastered on his features. She was getting flustered and he loved it, watching her squirm. 

“Oh yeah, I remember that.” Penkala chimed in, overhearing the discussion from down the table, “Didn’t you ask Johnny to smother him in his sleep?” 

Liebgott’s eyebrows raised, he looked at the woman and awaited her answer. He knew it was all in good fun but he couldn’t give up the chance to tease her, in good nature this time.

“I decline to comment.” 

—-----------

Since Easy didn’t have weekend passes, that Sunday was spent doing extra PT Sobel had assigned them. He didn’t hold back, really tiring them out with laps of the field and multiple combat sessions. They even had a designated hour of digging foxholes with their entrenching tool. 

What a birthday.

The women didn't have to have escorts every second of every day anymore, the rules had eased up, but Birdie felt better when someone stood guard while she showered and Johnny wouldn't let her anywhere near the showers by herself. So after the day of taxing physical activity, Johnny found Birdie and walked her to the women's bathroom.

On the way out, Birdie slumped over, exhausted and ready to pass out. She was yet to have dinner but honestly she could do without for tonight, she just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep. Besides, the mess hall was closing in five minutes, so it looked like she’d run out of time anyway. 

Johnny walked next to her in perfect step as the two made their way to Bernadette's sleeping quarters. When they would typically go left, Johnny stepped right. It confused Birdie, she had to stop walking and take stock of where they were. Was she so tired that she forgot her way to her own barracks? 

“One quick stop first.” Johnny explained, detecting her hesitance. She didn’t argue, just groaned and nodded, following the man without question.

“Here.” Martin gestured to the three wooden steps leading up to a building identical to her own barracks. If her mind wasn’t foggy she would have recognised it but her brain was declining to function properly so she just hopped up the steps silently.

Birdie watched Johnny reach out for the door handle and hold it open for her like a gentleman. From inside Birdie heard ‘shushes’ and then nothing. How very suspicious. Had she been at full thinking capacity she might have understood the situation more clearly. 

“Surprise!” A chorus of baritone voices called out to her. Birdie jumped, unexpecting the loud announcement. 

The faces of just about every Easy company man stuffed into the small barracks building registered and Bernadette broke out into a grin. She looked back at Johnny who was amused, standing with his arms crossed and mouthed to him “For me?” He nodded at the young girl and she all but threw herself in his direction. He flung his arms out just in time to catch her in a bone crushing hug. 

“Thank you.” The southerner whispered to him while wrapped in his arms. Someone cleared their throat from behind her and she turned to face them.

“Um… where’s my hug? I planned this whole thing.” George stated, matter of factly.

“You did?” She spoke with a high pitched voice, wobbling with emotion. George nodded, “Thank you!” The woman embraced him with little hesitation, sniffling into his shoulder. She was tired and missing home and this act of kindness had broken her, joyful tears welled up in her eyes. 

“Hey, are you crying?” Luz tried to pull away from her to see if she was sobbing but she refused to let go of him, holding on more tightly.

“Shut up and hug me, Luz.” He chuckled and put his arms back around her, squeezing slightly. 

A few of the men had wished her a happy birthday and left for their own barracks, leaving her closer friends to host a little soiree. A deck of cards was dealt out and Toye was determined to show Birdie how to play poker. She decided not to tell him she had learnt the gambling game from her older brothers and allowed him to ‘teach’ her the rules. 

Birdie purposefully lost the first few games, then begged Toye to let her play on her own. He was reluctant and when she suggested putting money on the game he outright refused. But she puppy dog eyed him and used the excuse of it being her birthday and he caved.  

Bernadette played against Toye, Guarnere, Bull, Liebgott and Perconte while Chuck Grant was designated dealer. Stakes were getting high, they were betting smokes and Hershey's bars and the pool was an enormous mountain of tobacco and chocolate. Toye, Bill and Perco were confident Birdie had bad cards or didn’t understand them so they kept upping the bet, Bull was just along for the ride, calling cause he had nothing better to do. 

When it came to Lieb’s turn to place a bet, he looked at his cards secretly, then to the cards in the middle. He took a second to watch the faces of the men and the one woman playing along with him, he was good at reading body language and something about the look Birdie gave him told him he should sit this one out. He raised his brow at her, a silent question. She tilted her head ever so slightly, her muted answer. He folded. 

Cards were shown and Bernadette had swindled nearly sixty cigarettes and eight bars of chocolate out of her friends. She laughed as she pulled her winnings towards her, “Thank you boys! I won't have to buy smokes for a week!” She gloated, enjoying the looks on the men's faces. Toye showed devastation, had that really just happened?

“You minx! Why didn’t you tell me you could play poker?” Toye gaped at her, seriously what the hell had happened just now? She only laughed, eyes twinkling. She unwrapped a Hershey's before answering him, “First rule of poker: Play your opponent, not the game.” Birdie winked, biting into her hard earned bar of cocoa.

A/N: I think it's funny how the women have a bet on Birdie crushing on someone and its even funnier that Easy does too

~ next-autopsy ~

Chapter twenty and a half

[ronsstickyhands]