jesseeka

[jesseeka]

a couple portraits of the faves

[jesseeka]

[jesseeka]

A/N: Not even 500 words but I had this little idea pop in my head the other day so I had to write it down. Dick being an awkward cutie pie, that's all. PSA: don't let people call you names you aren't comfortable with!

Sweetheart

“Thank you, sweetheart”

The words slipped from Dick’s mouth without second thought. It was as natural as breathing, as normal as the sound of artillery fire those days. Still, he froze a moment later, realizing exactly who he had just spoken to.

You stood next to him, double checking the file in your hands, filled with reports of the injured men you had been treating far from the front lines. Your visits were becoming more and more frequent, something Dick did not like to linger on. It was becoming routine these days; you'd bring medical reports needing his signature, just waiting for his approval. Every visit was nearly identical. Always the same few words:

“Here are the reports, Major”

“Thank you”

But this time he called you sweetheart, like an idiot-

“I’m sorry- that is- you- you’re-” he immediately stammered, turning as red as his hair.

He was just tired, that was it. Tired, sore, his head pounding from a near constant headache. He knew better. You were a professional, he was a professional- he wasn’t like some of the other men in the unit that couldn’t handle a conversation with a woman without slipping in some sort of pet name- no, Major Richard Winters would never- no matter how pretty he thought you were-

He floundered so badly he didn’t notice that you were watching him closely, a bemused look on your face.

“Major?”

His mouth clamped shut at the sound of your voice. He was almost too nervous to meet your gaze, but he had to, he had to apologize-

“I… I don’t know what you’re apologizing for” you said with a quiet laugh.

“What? I- ah-” Dick began awkwardly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“I didn’t mean to… to call you ‘sweetheart’, I’m sorry, I know you’re a nurse-” he finally blurted out.

“Oh” you laughed, the sound instantly relieving him.

“You know how many men call me… well, all sorts of things honestly. I’ve heard it all, it’s really- I promise, it's nothing new-” you said, shrugging your shoulders slightly.

“No, you shouldn’t be treated like that-” he cut you off, his brow furrowing.

“Major” you interrupted, gently touching his arm. “Honestly. If there’s anyone here that I really don’t mind calling me ‘sweetheart’, it’s you”.

Dick froze again, feeling your hand slide from his arm. He hadn’t been expecting that. A thick silence filled the tent, quiet despite the action around them. Men were coming and going, Speirs was barking orders somewhere in the distance, trucks were being loaded and unloaded. All of it was blocked out when Dick looked at you.

He straightened up slowly after a moment, and then accepted the file from you. He tapped the folder against his free hand.

“Alright then” he said quietly.

You sent him a small smile before turning to leave, stopping when you reached the edge. You stopped and looked back at him.

“I���ll see you around, Major”

Dick paused, tapping the file once more against his palm.

“I’ll see you… sweetheart”

[jesseeka]

band of brothers: types of kisses hc

(a/n: sorry this is so long… i tried to include a lot of easy company... but if your fav isn't here, please just send an ask and i'll add them!)

send an ask if you would like to be on my taglist! :) (taglist: @ronsparky)

[dick winters]

cautious kisses

dick does not like pda only because he's extremely private and wants your relationship to be for the two of you only... no matter how nosy nix is

but there still are occasional kisses to your cheek when he’s more relaxed in front of other officers

he's tender and careful too; dick is always cupping your face, a thumb brushing across your cheek or brushing hair away from your face

dick is always very gentle and a little unsure at times

especially at the beginning of your relationship, he feels incredibly inexperienced, or at the very least, out of practice

he’s very okay with you taking the lead when kissing because he doesn't want to do anything wrong

dick is tentative and private but very into it... it's a good thing he has an insane amount self discipline because otherwise he would be kissing you 24/7

[lewis nixon]

speaking of self discipline… lew does have it but he also chooses to ignore it most of the time, if he wants to kiss you then he's going to kiss you

so many morning kisses

honestly just anytime in bed because lew plays fast and loose with 'morning' and sleep cycles

absolutely never wants to get up, has to be coaxed with a lot of kisses and cuddling, it is a huge ordeal

he always kisses with some degree of mess, a little uncontrolled, perhaps a little desperate

a lot of sudden kisses too like you think you're safe and then boom he’s all of the sudden in the room, pulling you towards him

will take advantage of any opportunity no matter how small... does he have any shame? (no, not really)

lew does shockingly get a little shy sometimes about pda though

“i don’t want to rub it in their faces…" he'll insist, "y'know... what they don’t have”

sureeee... the blush on his cheeks says otherwise though

[carwood lipton]

carwood's speciality is definitely comforting kisses

lip is always paying attention to you and what you need and how you feel and that extends to physical affection

always wants you to feel okay, better than okay, great

and if a kiss can make you feel better then he’s more than willing to oblige

affection between the two of you is every casual and common, always kissing, holding hands, some sort of physical touch

constantly smiling in between kisses

he’s just that happy and loves you so much

but the comforting kisses & affection goes both ways

kissing the stress and worry away from his face and tracing his scar with your thumb before kissing it gently, your noses almost touching after you pull away to catch your breath, the two of you wearing twin smiles

and whenever you say goodbye or reunite, you both try not to make a scene, but it's always a little bit of a scene tbh... like having to be without carwood's kisses for a week is basically criminal

all the other men think it's extremely cute though, don't worry

[ron speirs]

stolen kisses (haha)

even his kisses are stolen!

he will always come out of nowhere and will always find time for a smooch

every time you think surely ron isn't in this area, he's supposed to be somewhere else, he's not in this building... you are proven wrong

is incredibly good at carving out time to see you... and finding private places for the two of you

like he's definitely scoped a few places out before he goes to find you

one time you were in his office kissing and someone knocked on the door and he huffs and pouts because he has to break away from you, even if it's only for a second- he's not happy about it

ron barks out, “not now," before returning to you will a warm, soft smile

heavy on kisses instead of words

ron is very physical...whenever you finally pull away from a kiss... you can always see things/emotions in his eyes that you know he's not ready to say yet and finds difficult to articulate

[don malarkey]

soooo many shy kisses

okay yes, don is kind of unhinged (stealing a motorcycle, drinking methanol, etc) but not with relationships... like flirting?? kissing??

he's still incredibly enthusiastic about your relationship... very much so

but he gets really shy around you, especially with kissing

turns beet red so easily, like you love kissing him and pulling away to see him blushing all the way up to the tips of his ears <3

it's just so fun and he's having a great time... and don cannot hide his emotions or what he’s thinking so whatever he's thinking always comes out when you're kissing

"god, you're beautiful. you should bring this dress to paris when we go next weekend. oh- y'know what, skip still owes me that $40 i lent him. i really need that for next week's pass so-"

"don," you interrupt gently, brushing a hand across his jaw

he'll blush and smile sheepishly, "right, i'm shutting up, back to kissing..."

he's shy yet so excited and wants to do everything right, willing to learn and wants to learn, and just wants his inner emotions and love for you translate with physical affection

and it definitely does! don is extremely endearing and you love him for it

[joe toye]

joe's kisses are always very intense

his eye contact, his touch, his raspy voice… everything is intense in the best way possible

his hands already feel like fire, so warm against your own skin

he loves just laying next to you in bed, just observing you and taking it all in

his passion definitely goes along with the intensity

he's also extremely private about affection with you, just because it means so much to him

tends to get vulnerable and emotional very easily

and really likes pillow talk and just listening to your voice, your stories, and your perspective

he likes your reassurance too, your love, he's never felt anything like this before

so whenever he can manage to have free time alone with you, he's always savoring it

joe could kiss you for hours, he truly loves taking it all in, going slow, and savoring the time you have together

[george luz]

late night kisses are a staple for the two of you

george gets so excited being with you he doesn't want to sleep

the biggest sleepover vibes

like you both very seriously decide to go to bed but then george says something funny or does his dike impression and then you both start laughing and talking again

and kissing again, sometimes the impressions are so good you have to reward him

you guys have a lot of late nights because of this

also do kisses for warmth and sharing body heat count?

huddling in a foxhole together, in the thick of it together, like yes they don't have much food, supplies, or ammo but george is not going to let them take kisses away from him too

oh my god, laughing in between kisses

sometimes he really can’t take himself that seriously

george is like don and gets very excited

he just feels so lucky to have you and has to kiss you accordingly

kissing you and just being with you can make him a little emotional… a happy little high

cigarettes have nothing on you and your kisses!

[babe heffron]

babe is kind of like a baby deer, he's a little clumsy and sometimes unsure but he's definitely got the spirit

he is confident but he does tend to second guess himself when it comes to you, he just doesn't want to mess anything up.

like what if he uses too much tongue or he headbutts you on accident... he's just overthinking it

and sometimes you just have to grab his arm and pull him toward you and kiss him yourself

when you're alone, babe lovesss laying on your chest letting you run your fingers through his hair and kissing his forehead... but don't tell anyone

jk he doesn't care if anyone knows (and they absolutely do know)

and the guys can't even tease him that hard about it, that's much everyone loves babe... they're just happy for him tbh

babe definitely gets a little needy sometimes like where’s his daily kiss allotment :(

and he can get clingy... will 100% wrap his arms around, you pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder just because he hasn't seen you that much today

[eugene roe]

tired kisses are a doc roe staple

poor eugene, he's exhausted and jaded... a lot of the time… and the rest of the company gives the two of you space as often as they can because they know how much your presence helps him

tired kisses as in he is putting in effort but his lips don't move as fast or as needy

he's more languid and calm, and it's very enticing

forehead kisses too omg

he lovesss when you kiss his forehead; pull him against your body, your chest, your arms and he feels safe and secure

he likes kissing the top of your head too, his nose in the crown of your hair while murmuring something in french

you catch various words in french that after spending so much time with gene you can understand now

like mon ange, mon amour, ma moitié (my better half? sobbing)

your presence is so grounding for him and makes him feel more normal, like he's not constantly surrounded by death and pain

you make him feel like he doesn't have to be constantly on edge, like he can take his helmet off and not be on alert, like he hasn't totally lost himself in his job... your kisses are so grounding for him

[buck compton]

a lot of reassuring kisses

like sometimes he just has to kiss the worry off of your face

and vice versa, towards the end of the war it's not even just kisses but your presence and touch alone become extremely reassuring for him

but also... buck can be so cocky sometimes, he loves showing you off

you secretly (not so secretly) love it... like sorry it's hot

like once when the two of you were at a pub in england... he's gambling, he's drinking, he's smoking, and ofc he's kissing you!

what else is he supposed to do when he wins at darts or cards... come on

the guys hype him up and just hide their jealousy because you and buck very often seem like relationship goals

he's always touching you, like usually has a firm grip around your waist

always laughing together, everything you do together automatically seems so intimate

like in a room with the other guys... they do feel like they're intruding

just because you and buck are in the corner laughing and talking together, the love and intimacy feels like it takes over the entire room

it's just so passionate and obvious he's head over heels and that definitely comes across in his kisses

[joe liebgott]

joe's kisses strike me as tender but demanding and needy at the same time

he's a taker.... but also a giver so it evens out

some very, very eager kisses

like pushing you up against a wall, hand sliding up your thigh and mouth working down your neck...

joe is a great multitasker!

accidentally bites your lip once, it wasn't that hard or anything but he went bright red and was apologizing profusely, but also was like, "did you like it though..."

(you did but...)

bottom line is joe's just a tiny bit feral around you at all times honestly

you never know when he’s going to pull you into his lap and kiss you and you both loveeee when you sit on his lap

the men are very used to it by now

he also likes living on the edge, like who cares if the patrol's supposed to be back any minute now and could walk in at any time?

messy kisses like his mouth is just everywhere basically, he wastes absolutely no time

he is so noisy: whines, groans, moans, laughs, you get everything with joe

also loves when you tug and pull on his hair while kissing, he specifically requests it

but joe can also get incredibly soft and sweet and tender but that's strictly for your eyes only... he has a reputation to uphold ofc

he totally blows you kisses whenever one of you leaves the room... it starts ironically but now he really does enjoy doing it

[david webster]

oh david is just so romantic

like definitely over the top romantic... it's so serious to him

he's read enough (a lot) romance novels and craves that book and movie worthy relationship and love

his life IS a victorian romance novel and he will act accordingly

everyone else thinks it's incredibly cheesy but you think it’s really cute

it means so much passion whenever he's talking about you, talking to you, kissing you, etc

he's always trying to think of the right words to say and you’re like “david, just kiss me please”

ofc he obliges and he is very good at it

his touch is just always so tender, you can feel the passion and love through his kisses

he's a little hesitant sometimes, starts off slow but it's extremely easy to get him worked up and make him lose some of that self control that he works so hard to maintain and portray

[floyd talbert]

confident kisses

yeah... yeah, what more is there to say

floyd just has a way (from a lot of practice) with his mouth

he's also very attentive and is always surveying how you're reacting and feeling, always wants to make you feel good and lovesss watching your reactions

he loves when you make noises of surprise or pleasure, he always ends up grinning into your kiss, he just thinks it's sooo cute

however i do think the more serious your relationship gets and the more feelings that are attached, the more likely he gets nervous... just a little bit

but that's more with relationship things

the kissing he has down pat for sure

takes the lead, cups your cheek, always knows what to do with his hands and the perfect the angle to tilt his head

will sometimes stop super close to your lips and just grin, teasing kisses

floyd loves having all of your attention to himself, when you loop your arms around his neck, when your lips are on his face, when you're talking quietly only for him to hear, when you're the only one that actually calls him floyd, ugh he just melts

[shifty powers]

shifty is the absolute king of gentle kisses

like so so shy

especially at the beginning of your relationship, you definitely have to kiss him first and initiate everything

he's so scared of reading the moment wrong and messing everything up

which you always reassure him that he won't

he has literally the entire company hyping him up, they've been waiting for y'all to get together for basically years now

but once he's more comfortable, he's always wrapping his arms around you, smiling, and kissing you freely

he struggles to articulate all love and emotions he's feeling but you still love listening to him talk about it

he just blurts out "i love you so much" one day after kissing, when you're laying in bed in austria

and he immediately looks terrified, not that he regrets what he said because he most certainly means it, but he doesn't know what you're going to say

but it's only a few seconds before you grin and throw your arms around him, "i love you too," you mutter before kissing him, a little more intense, and with a little more fervor than your usual kisses

[bill guarnere]

his nick name of wild bill definitely applies to his kissing style

absolutely wild

sometimes borderline unhinged

especially if he's been drinking or partying

but also... if it's the two of you alone, having a mellow morning or night, bill does get soft

the other guys aren't even surprised by that, they know he has a soft and gentle side to him, they can see it whenever you're with him

bill is sporting a basically permanent smile while watching you

trying to burn the visual of you into his brain so he can keep it forever

his kisses are encapsulating and very distracting

he hates seeing you upset or stressed and he uses kisses and physical affection to help

loves holding you and being the big spoon

and you love it too

it's soooo comforting

and it's never easy to not be constantly reminded that you're in the middle of a war, about to jump into france, etc, but with him, his firm arms around you, it's a little easier to forget

[chuck grant]

chuck strikes me as very confident, kind of like tab

he just wants to appreciate you!

and shower you with love

he will never run out of ways and words to compliment you

he's been admiring you from afar for sooo long, now that your in his arms it feels incredibly surreal

his kisses are always firm and secure

and chuck really likes when you take the lead and take what you want from him

being away from you always stirs something extremely confident and desperate in him

really enjoys holding your hand

always having physical contact with you, that's a necessity

ooo... he loves having a hand on your thigh

especially if he can sneak it under the table during dinner or a meeting

just his hand sliding up and down, gripping and then releasing, and then looking at his innocent yet knowing smile...

that definitely leads to some intense kisses, your hands running through his hair, hand cupping his jawline, you leading the show

he lovesss getting a reaction from you

[jesseeka]

[jesseeka]

Would you please write a headcanon for Malarkey, Babe, Chuck, Shifty, Liebgott, Winters (and anyone else you'd like to do) about them seeing you dressed "like a girl" for the first time. I mean all pin up looking and everything (tastefully of course though). Maybe you had to wear army fatigues just like the rest of the guys (and of course no makeup or ability to do your hair or wash everyday) and that's the only way they've really ever seen you. But you finally get the chance to really dress up for once (you're a girly girl). I'd love to know what you see their reactions being.

Oooooo being a girly girl myself I LOVE this concept!! Easy Boys x Reader - how they react to you dressed up.

Don Malarkey:

Normally Don would just muck around with you, he’d think you’re beautiful either way but he feels comfortable with you to joke around like he would similar to how he is with the guys.

so when you walk into that pub one day all dressed up like one of those pin up girls he’d seen in the magazines? Good lord-

Eyes pop out of his head fr.

double takes- cos he’s so mf stunned like- it ignites something deep inside of his body and every single inch of his body is on fire.

I feel like he’d sorta look at you differently when you’re having a conversation, like he’d be smiling and blushing- I think he’d be stammering, maybe he couldn’t hold eye contact as often?

like he’d suddenly stop throwing jokes in your direction and actually engages in a more quieter and normal? Conversation. Like you’d probably be so confused until one of your friends tells you why you’re so nervous.

unlike the other guys, I don’t think he’d make a move, not that night anyway. He’d probably be too nervous. I think after that he’d be a little more nervous around you, maybe he’d be fearful some other guy has swooped you up before he could??? Babe Heffron:

I feel like Babes reaction would depend on if he’s had a few to drink or not. But let’s say he’s sober?? We’ll set the scene in Austria, you finally have access to pretty clothes and makeup again- which you missed so dearly throughout the war.

slowly you’re doing yourself up again, getting used to being around the men all dressed up- I think it would be super nerve wracking.

Ofc all the men notice cos their jaws are on the floor, but Babe’s mind is lost. He knows that he feels the strongest out of all of these guys, you took such good care of him in Bastogne and his soft spot for you becomes well- a big fat crush that he can no longer hide.

He takes some hyping up from Ramirez and whoever else before he scurries up besides you, walking as smoothly at he can, looking all handsome in his uniform.

“Hey y/n.”

“oh hey, Babe!”

“you look real pretty y’know.”

then it would be your turn to be a blushing mess, he’s grinning towards you with a sparkle in his eyes, and although he’s nervous the genuine desire and longing for you is obvious.

“Thank you, Babe! You look real good in your uniform too.” He doesn’t expect you to throw a compliment back so for a second he’s turned away from you with a shit eating grin on his face.

“Yeah well, ya’ hair looks real nice too.” The boys deffo told him to compliment your hair and your eyes- and that’s what script he sticks to at first before growing enough confidence to genuinely compliment everywhere else on your face (and body??)

Ur bum looks real good in the dress you were, and if Babe thought you were beautiful in your army fatigues, oh my goddddddd-

Babes just a sucker, he often looks stunned and in awe of you- because that’s what he would be, real complimentary to the point you have no option but to just kiss him.

plus at the end of the night when you two have spent some time together, he loves to twist his finger through the loosened curls in your hair.

Chuck Grant:

Probs one of the men that giggles and woops at you when you walk into the small pub the troops have taken over in Holland.

ofc it’s all fun and games they’re ur friends and by no means are objectifying you.

but anyway Chuck is all amused at first, but his smile slowly fades when he feels the fluttering of his heart and stomach and oh fuck- he’s in love with you.

he knew it before, but now seeing the way all these men are looking at you in your pretty dress with your hair and makeup all done- noooo, he has to make you his there and then.

“Later, suckers.” He’d take a last swig of his drink before carrying it in his hand, sliding away from the table and approaching you. At first he’s oozing with confidence, hyped up from his cheering friends, but when he actually gets close and sees your red painted lips smiling up to him he’s a gonner.

“Uh hey… can I sit?” He awkwardly spokes, it’s a little funny but you’d find him so cute and ofc he’s fucking handsome asf so you oblige.

Accidentally stares in awe when you’re topping your lipstick up.

“You want some?” You’d tease and his lips would pull into a charming smile. “Yeah, but not from the stick.”

oooo the flirtation would be on the second he gets a little buzzed from the alcohol, you’re clearly flirting back and not to sound rude because it’s obviously consensual- but Grant can’t keep his hands to himself.

seriously he’s never seen your body so…. Tight? Like your outfit is still modest but hugging you in all the right places, if you move onto his lap at some point in the night he’ll probs get a boner.

deffo goes back to his bed that night with a smirk and red lipstick stains everywhere.

Shifty Powers:

Ugh shifty, shifty, shifty, where do I start?

yeah he’s super respectful and sweet, we all know that, but he deffo has a smart side to him. Let me explain.

when you walk into that ‘pub’ in Austria, all dolled up, he’s smirking and hiding behind his cup, eyes roaming a little too far down your body than he intends to.

he’s love struck, like he already knew you were the most beautiful thing on this planet, but now you’re a god damn Angel.

but when you’d come to sit with him out of all the other guys, again, he’d be smirking behind his pint glass.

“Y’know you look real beautiful, Y/n.” He’d give you the most genuine and kind compliment you’ve received all night, he’d hook his arm around yours to walk you somewhere, ugh he’d probably come across really calm??

I do think Shifty would be sweatinggggg, like boy he’s nervous on the inside, and when you clasp your hand with his he’s gulping.

not to sound crude, but he probably hasn’t seen a woman in a while, not one as amazing as you- so he gets a little hot and bothered when your hand runs over his shoulder.

he’s not one to be too forward, I think he’d be more traditional so he wouldn’t necessarily make a move on you- but he’d tell you how he feels there and then.

being honest he wants you soooooo bad, he feels the ache in his chest even just glancing at you. Plus, Shifty can tell you’re glowing both inside and out, he’d probably pick up on that and make you swoon like you’ve never before.

Joe Liebgott

Listen Joe has been knowing ur attractive for a realllllll long time. Like im talking since Toccoa and all.

But nothing comes of it so he treats you like his little sister, like similar to Malarkey he’d joke around with you, ruffle your hair- he likes that you’re not afraid to get dirty and have a little fun.

like he’d probably rugby tackle you (gently?) because he knows you’re so just down to earth and cool.

so he hold off all the compliments or what not and his flirtation is more through playfulness?? Like you just have a bond and he fucking loves ya- he tells you all the time, but all of a sudden you walk in looking like a fucking pin up model and he gasp- loves you in a way that isn’t so… platonic?

uhhhh Joe’s shifting in his seat, eyes fixated and mouth slightly hung open. Has to tense his jaw and blink away just so nobody see’s him looking like a creep.

doesn’t know how to act around you?? Like he’s acting all nervous and awkward because you’re so fucking beautiful and done up and god, all the men want you in there.

tries to be mean as a form of flirting, but that doesn’t work- it goes badly wrong so he ends up chasing you out of the pub, grabbing at your waist.

“Hey, y/n, slow down. I didn’t mean it like that!” “Then how did you mean it, Joe?! You think I look tacky!” “No I don’t! I really don’t!” He kinda laughs again and you attempt to shrug him off but uhhh he get carried away and the feelings just fall out his mouth. “Truthfully-” “shut up, Joe.” “No, truthfully, I think ya look gorgeous. Like shit doll, I think I’ve fallen in love with ya.”

The admission is only followed by more and more and he blurts out how nervous you made him feel- his ability to express emotion all these years later surprises you and you’d just kiss him so quickly he almost stumbles off his feet.

tells you you should dress up more often like that for him.

Dick Winters:

Ummmmmm probably already with you?? Winters has seen you all dressed up before but after a particular long time of seeing you struggling, he’s in awe to see you looking so radiant and happy.

watches from afar with the most loved up feeling ever, he’s extremely secure in your relationship, yet still oogles in utter awe from you.

has to put up with the other men (they don’t know about your relationship) staring and gawking, he legit has to close Babe’s mouth for him??

but seriously, he just smirks when he sees you laughing at the men’s advances on you cos he knows he’ll be the one in bed with you that night.

and you are ugh- he’s so amazing and can’t get over how perfect you looks, he even asks you to leave the dress on when you’re doing the deed 🙈🙈.

“I’m so glad I’ve got you all to myself.” He’d mutter whilst you’re wrapped up in his arms, hair and makeup slightly frazzled. “Me too, I couldn’t cope for a minute longer not speaking to you out there.” “And all of them gawking at you… I mean who can blame them, you look absolutely beautiful.” Lewis Nixon:

Ummm what the fuck? He’s amazed? Jaw is dropped and he has to put his glass to one side whilst Dick pushes his jaw closed for him.

“is that Y/n?” He’d squint, “as in our Y/n?”

wastes no time in getting to know you and sit besides you, it’s not like you two haven’t talked before, but you’ve never really been close or had the chance to be. Now, the war in Europe is over and Lew is divorced, it opens new opportunities- hence why he comes and speaks to you.

a little Dutch courage never did no harm, and in Lewis’ case it began a beautiful relationship. But holy fuck- he’s in complete shock at how beautiful you are, your hairs pinned up to perfection, your makeup is highlighting every feature of your face so perfectly.

you should best believe that your lipstick will be smudged over his thumb and lips later that evening, cos Lewis isn’t one to waste any time…

[jesseeka]

Band of Brothers hc request where nurse!reader can’t sleep because of all the injuries piling up/feeling guilty about not doing more?

Thank you for the request anon! <3 mentions of grief, wounds, reader is overworked and ur man takes care of you, mainly fluff.

Easy Company x Nurse!Reader Headcanons

Eugene Roe:

I can imagine Gene’s on duty and he see’s you again, still working late into the night, despite him knowing you were on shift before 7am.

The long days were brutal, Eugene knew that. The urge to help out in anyway possible and feel guilt for resting was something he combatted heavily, especially throughout Bastogne.

But nobody can work effectively when they’re running off four hours sleep.

You and Eugene are close, you’re not in a relationship but there’s feelings there that probably go unspoken until the end of the war. So he feels comfortable enough to approach you.

When you accidentally knock into a tray of surgical and medical items and your breathing deeply, hands running over your forehead - he knows you’re too overworked.

“Y/n.” He steps closer. “Get off duty and go to bed.” Gene would borderline sass.

“I’m fine, Gene.” You’d shake him off, snapping from the irritability of exhaustion.

Gene would cover your hand before you had chance to tidy the tray of equipment you’d just messed up. Finally, you’d look at him now.

“Seriously, you ain’t gonna be anymore help running off no sleep.”

You’d feel a little guilty, knowing your tiredness was potentially messing things up, but you couldn’t give up.

“I can’t sleep, Gene, I feel too bad that I’ve got a warm bed and half these men are sleeping on the floor.” You’d finally admit.

“You gotta try, hm?” Ugh his voice would be so low gentle, he’s so careful not to alarm or engage anybody else in the conversation, and the way he’s holding your hand is distracting.

Anyway, he’s too convincing and soon he’s walking you back with a hand in yours, a little saddened by how clearly overworked you are.

“If anything happens you’ll come get me, right?” You’d worry and Gene would offer you a small smile. “Nothin’s gonna happen.”

But anyway he practically forces you to go to bed and by no surprise you’re passed out within minutes of hitting the pillow.

Gene probably comes back to check up on you a few hours later and he’s soo relieved that you’re fast asleep 🥹.

Ron Speirs:

This mf does not mess around, especially when it comes to you.

You and Ron are already in a relationship by the time you’re at Germany, you’re an amazing comfort to one another and Ron’s already thinking about popping the question by the time they get somewhere nicer.

Anyway, when you’re working tirelessly to take care of the poor victims of the camp, you don’t get back until early hours of the morning, eyes circled with dark bags, legs barely functioning.

The next morning Ron see’s you up early asf, so he asks around to see what time you were back last night. When you don’t return from the infirmary until super late the next day, he’s kinda annoyed.

Not annoyed at you really, he just worries for you.

“What time did you get back last night?” He calls you into his office and for a minute you’re actually intimidated by him, skskskksksle.

You’d attempt to lie that it wasn’t that bad but Speirs would just nod with a knowing expression on his face.

“You’re off duty tomorrow.” He’d simply say and your heart would plummet.

“Ron, no!” You’d immediately plead, the guilt building up.

“I can’t have an exhausted nurse running around, that’s no help to anybody.”

“Then do it for me, personally. I can’t sleep knowing all those people are still in there.”

Ron would inhale, feeling a little worried knowing why you’re feeling that way. He’d secretly inform you that you’re moving out tomorrow anyway, speaking so quietly.

Also secretly brings you up to his private room, the fact you have a night off together is overwhelmingly nice and if you can’t sleep Ron’s doing anything possible to help you.

Talking would be the first thing, you’d discuss everything. He’d 100% be cuddly asf after not being able to relax around you for a while, he’d offer you a massage and then if that didn’t work he’s tiring you out even more using other methods… do with that as you please.

Joe Liebgott:

I can deffo imagine him being a little wise ass about it at first. The two of you are close friends, wanting to be something more, and the way Joe expresses it is through teasing you.

Like you’re sitting on the edge of the nurses foxhole, just staring into blank space.

“Jesus, are ya even alive?” Waves in front of your face, half expecting you to crack a smile like you always do.

You’d probably mutter something back to him, snapping and blinking back down to your gloved hands. You’re just waiting for another cry out for help.

“God, you are cranky when you’re tired, huh?!” He watches you stand up with a sigh, glancing around the area to go check up on everyone.

“Where ya going?” He’s a little disappointed and confused, he saw you patrolling around only moments prior.

Anyway when you think of some excuse he’s pulling you back down into the foxhole, climbing in with you.

Kinda confronts you about how you haven’t been sleeping and practically wraps two of the spare blankets around you.

“Stay warm, okay? Talk to me, y/n/n, why can’t ya sleep?” He knows why you can’t sleep, but he’s so caring, even when he doesn’t mean to, Joe naturally falls into the role of sometimes nurturing other people. The perks of having younger siblings, huh?

When you’d explain that there’s too many wounded men back in town to even know where to start, and that you feel too guilty to sleep when all the others need checking up on out here he’s tutting and wrapping an arm around you.

“C’mere. How ya gonna treat anybody when you’re running off no sleep? You’ll get all jumpy and pass out- that’s the last we need, isn’t it, doll?”

“Yeah…”

“Try get some sleep, huh? I’ll stay, as long as nobody finds me here.” Technically being in a foxhole together wasn’t allowed, but the mutual comfort you gained from one another was unexplainable. Plus, Joe didn’t want you creeping up and sneaking away when you had to rest.

When you are asleep and he has to go, he presses the most gentle kiss to your temple, hesitantly climbing back out and telling all the men nearby to shut the hell up.

Bill Guarnere:

“Now when I heard about a lady out here refusin’ to get some shut eye, I didn’t realise it wa’ you.” Bill would smooth a hand up your back as you’d sigh, melting into his touch as he climbed onto the single bunk with you.

“They had to kick you outta’ the infirmary?” Bill doesn’t know if he’s impressed or concerned by your determination out here. Ever since landing you’ve been overwhelmingly busy, he’s glad to see you in bed. He’s not glad to see you awake, however.

“Pretty much.” You’d mutter, turning around to wrap an arm over his lap as he rested with his back against the headboard.

Bill would let you sink completely into his hold, hoping if anything the comfort of having one another would let you sleep.

Bill knows exactly why you can’t sleep, he knows you better than anybody, the guilt, the desperation to make sure everybody is okay. It doesn’t really need to be spoken about.

“Try get some sleep, yeah? I’ll stay as long as I can until those others get back, ok?”

Shifty Powers:

When he rolls over to you in the middle of the night and see’s you awake again he’s reaching over for you instantly.

“What’ya thinkin’ about, hm?” He’d mutter, gazing over your frustrated complexion.

“I should be down there.”

“Where?”

“At the infirmary.”

Now in Germany, it was more civilian injuries you were treating, especially when a building collapses and you’re absolutely swamped with causalities. After hours upon hours of being run off your feet you’re sent off duty, but your brain won’t shut off.

“Last I checked they had it under control.” Shifty would mutter, running a thumb over your creased brow until you relaxed. “If ya running around any longer you ain’t gonna be able to tomorrow.”

Ugh he’d be so soft and reassuring, there’s not a chance you’re leaving the bed however- he makes sure of that.

Dick Winters:

“Y/n, where are you going?” Dick has one eye open in his foxhole when he see’s you creeping past, arms huddled around your chest and scarf wrapped around your head.

Dammit, you thought he’d be asleep.

“Uh, just going to help out, Di- sir.” Although you had both been seeing one another, nothing had occurred out at war so it was extremely professional to maintain professionalism with one another.

“You’ve been there all day.” He’d sit up straighter, both your teeth chattering practically back to one another.

“I-I can’t sleep, sir. There’s so much to do.”

“If you don’t sleep you’ll be no help at all.” He’d remind, a very nice way of saying ‘get the hell back into your foxhole’.

“I know but. I can’t sleep. I feel too guilty.”

“Well we need a nurse out on these lines. Anybody needs you I’ll come get you, alright?” Dick is so understanding and makes you feel less guilty & more important at the same time. He’s so emotionally intelligent.

He walks you back to your foxhole, with a gentle squeeze of your hand he leaves you with a reminder that he’s still there.

He sure as hell isn’t waking you up however.

Babe Heffron:

“Hey get back into bed, would ya?” Babe would be on patrol and see you sneaking back to the aid station, walking alone through Haguenau.

He’d catch you red handed, sneaking over through the concealment of the darkness.

“And what’a’ya doin out here alone, huh?” He wouldn’t be happy, he practically had to force you to go to bed initially, and now you were sneaking out a mere 2 hours later.

“They need my help, Babe.”

“Did they tell ya that personally?” He gets kinda sassy ok, he’s a little annoyed cos he only wants the best for you, but the second he see’s you starting to get upset or blubbering he softens.

“Aw no, c’mere, I didn’t mean to upset ya!” Fuck patrolling, he’s pulling you aside and giving you a cuddle.

When you tell him what’s up he’s reminding you of every single accomplishment, big or small you’ve completed- and just how helpful you are and how everybody loves& appreciates you.

I think Babe is accidentally good with his words in certain situations, even if he’s a little flustered and worried for you, it’s his kindness and reassurance that has you eventually knocked out in bed again.

[jesseeka]

Just Me and You, Shifty Powers

just a little imagine I crossposted on my Wattpad (boneflu) and wanted to post here!

no warnings just pure fluff

 Austria had been some sort of dream—the daily warm meal and hot showers seemed to be too good to be true. Yet, here you were, hands gripping the splintered wood of the old dock, swinging your legs to just barely graze the surface of the water below. The sky had turned pink and orange as the sun had made her way down, bringing forth the moon rising from behind the mountains. Your shoes and socks were somewhere further up the dock, your mind too focused on the coolness bringing small goosebumps up your bare legs, trousers rolled to your calves.

 "This is where you've been hidin' all night?" a soft voice asked, footsteps accompanying Shifty's voice as he made his way down the dock. You looked up, finding Darrell haloed by the wind-blewn trees and waking stars. You gave a lopsided grin and nodded, offering your hand to the sharpshooter. For a man who always wielded a rifle, the pads of his fingers were smooth, and soft. He carefully plopped down next to you, your thighs pressed together. Soon enough he was tossing his shoes and socks behind him just as you had, propping his legs up to roll his pants to match yours. His feet met the water and he let out a content sigh. "Found yourself a pretty spot, huh?" The Virginia asked.

 You nodded. "Sure did, Shift. All the boys are being too loud." you stated, looking to what he had gripped in his hand. A bottle of champagne, no doubt some lavish brand some Kraut had been waiting to pop when they won the war—but tonight, it was their victory. "Whatcha got there, Shift?" Darrell looked down to his hand and grinned, shrugging before offering it up to you. The label was a different language, you suspected French. "Where did you manage to find this?"

 You hummed, thumb pressing against the cork until it popped loudly, causing both of you to jump before turning to one another with giddy grins. You took a long swing before wiping your mouth, "here's to our alcoholic intelligence officer—and his ability to choose the good stuff."

 Shifty takes the bottle from you by its neck, tipping it into his own mouth. "Here's to him," he agreed, grimacing at the taste. Shifty's face twisted, causing you to let out a laugh, while Shifty grinned proudly. You nursed the bottle once more and drank from it once more before laying on the dock, legs hanging over. Darrell followed your movements, readjusting to get his shoulder flush against yours. He unashamedly lopped his head to the side to stare at you, your eyes fluttering shut, glowing from the sun. The hard war was evident in your tired eyes and silver scars, but Shifty thought you had never looked to gorgeous.

 "You're starin', Powers." your comment is accompanied with an amused glance at him, head falling to meet his gaze. He only hums in response, smiling with his rosy, sun-loved cheeks. "Do I have something on my face?"

 Shifty is shaking his head slowly. "No," he states shortly, grinning that smile that had gone into hiding since stepping into the Ardennes—the endless months in a permanent winter had hardened even the softest of soldiers, Shifty Powers included. Every now and again, you got him to give that little smile, hidden behind a scarf, only for you to see. But, here on this dock, it was on full display. "It's just you and me, so I get to stare all I want."

 You're cocking your head to the side and pushing yourself up to stand, brows furrowed. "Is that so?" you ask, looking down at him. Shifty is following your movements as he gives a confident nod. "And why is that?"

 He smiles again. "No distractions. No questions. No possible gunfire. Just me and you." You're inching closer with each of his words, his arms snaking around your waist and pulling you closer. "Now I can tell you how pretty I think you are." He's giddy as he says this, looking like a little kid on Christmas. You can't help but blush pink, shaking your head.

 "Was I not pretty enough in Bastogne?" you tease. Shifty is rolling his eyes playfully, shaking his head and tutting.

 He's pushing hair behind your ear. "You're always pretty. But now I don't got no competition—no one around to try and take you from this moment. Just you and me?"

 You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down closer and closer. "So," you trail off. "What are you gonna do now that it's just you and me?"

 Shifty grins. "Well, I'd like to kiss you."

 You laugh. "Kiss me, Darrell."

[jesseeka]

Every Line We Crossed

WWII. Bad timing. Worse decisions. Long stares across war rooms, a translator who speaks four languages and still can’t find the right words, and Lewis Nixon who drinks too much and feels too much. It’s tense. It’s messy. It’s that kind of almost-love that was doomed from the start—but God, did it burn.

Pairing: Lewis Nixon x Reader

Prompt: "You think I don’t know how wrong this is? But I never once wanted something so badly.”

Word Count: ~3,400

Genre: Fluff/Angst, hurt/comfort, slowburn, TENSION

Setting: Berchtesgaden, Germany

Note || sooooo i blacked out and this fic wrote itself. it’s soft, it’s messy, it’s a little emotionally unstable—kinda like lewis nixon with a whiskey bottle. if you’ve ever wanted to scream “just kiss already!!” at two fictional characters flirting, this one’s for you. enjoy the tension. blame harry welsh for the commentary. and remember: no war room was harmed in the making of this aggressively tender meltdown <3 (also, speirs slapping people into silence? peak behavior.)

gotxpenny's masterlist band of brothers masterlist

They met in the dark.

Toccoa wasn’t dark in the literal sense—Georgia was too hot and raw for that. But something about war always shaded the air around it, even in the training camps. And in the middle of all the barked orders and scraped knees, he noticed her.

Y/N, the translator. The one who was always flipping through thick, dog-eared notebooks of German, French, Italian, and—what surprised him most—Yiddish. It wasn’t her fluency that first caught Lewis Nixon’s eye. It was her silence. She was sharp, but measured. Bright, but never eager to show off. She spoke like every word mattered. Like every thought had a weight. And something about that haunted him.

Maybe it was because he had never been very good at thinking before he spoke.

She was softness in a world built to crush it.

Nixon never quite understood how she made it this far, not because she wasn’t capable—God, she was terrifyingly capable—but because she carried herself like someone untouched by the rot of war. While the rest of them had started to harden, crack, even lose shape entirely, she still somehow managed to be kind. Gentle. There was steel in her, yes—but it was quiet. Forged into her spine, not worn like armour.

And she was small. A fact that made him ache more than it should’ve. Her uniform was always a size too big, sleeves rolled twice over and pant legs cuffed just so. Her helmet sat crooked more often than not, slipping too low over her eyes like it belonged to someone else. Which, of course, it probably did. Everything the Army gave her looked borrowed. Too harsh. Too impersonal. As if the world didn’t quite know what to do with someone like her.

He remembered Normandy.

They were crouched in the hedgerows, mud thick on their boots, sky still bruised from the drop. She had landed rough and hard, scraped and breathless, helmet practically swallowing her whole head. He’d spotted her half a mile away just from the way she moved—calm, sure, but dragging her radio pack like it weighed more than she did.

“You sure you weren’t supposed to land with the field mice?” he’d called out, grinning as she emerged from the brush beside him.

She had shoved her helmet up with a huff, eyes narrowed beneath it, “You’re hilarious.”

“I’m just saying,” he said, nudging her boot with his, “You might be the first paratrooper in history who could hide in someone’s pocket.”

She’d flipped him off.

He’d fallen in love a little.

Even then, soaked in rain and war, she looked like something too good for this place. And Lewis Nixon—hungover, jaded, already a little ruined—knew damn well he had no business wanting her.

He tried not to. Tried to drown it in the usual ways—brown liquor, black humor, buried glances. But she kept being there. With her quiet tenacity, her sleeves always too long, her voice calm even when half the room was losing their heads. She translated enemy reports like they were puzzles, threading through languages like silk, and sometimes—just sometimes—she’d look up at him while she spoke, and he swore it felt like confession.

Now, in a dim room littered with maps and wires and the stale weight of smoke, she was talking again. Something about troop movement east of Remagen. He couldn’t focus. Not with her sitting that close, lips moving, hair tucked beneath a helmet that still never fit right.

He wasn’t hearing a word of it.

He was watching the way she bit the inside of her cheek when reading aloud, the faint crinkle in her brow when she stumbled on a dialect shift. He was watching her mouth, mostly. And wondering what it would take to close the distance.

She paused. Blinked at him.

“Are you even listening?”

The room wasn’t quiet—papers rustled, boots scraped, the typewriter clacked faintly in the next room—but her voice sliced through it all.

Nixon blinked. She was sitting across from him at the table, fingers resting on a handwritten enemy communiqué she had just translated aloud. Dick Winters, beside her, was methodically flipping through another set of files. Speirs leaned in his chair, unreadable as always. Harry Welsh was too amused to be useful.

But Nixon wasn’t paying attention to any of that.

He was staring at her lips.

“Nope,” he said, shameless. His whiskey-laced grin curled at the corners, “But if you’d like to repeat yourself—maybe a little slower this time—I promise I’ll hang on every word like it’s scripture.”

Y/N’s mouth opened. Then shut. Then flushed.

She hated how easily he got under her skin.

It wasn’t just the smirk—the one that never quite reached his eyes—or the way he always smelled like a mix of cigarette smoke, damp wool, and something warmer, something him. It wasn’t even the fact that he could be infuriatingly charming when he wanted to be, which was often, and usually when she was trying to be professional.

It was everything else.

It was how he looked at her like she was something he meant to find. Like she wasn’t just some Army-assigned translator in a war room full of men trying not to fall apart, but something important. Something good. And she hated that, because she knew he had no right to look at her like that—not with that ring on his finger. Not with that kind of baggage bleeding into everything he touched.

She had tried to keep her distance after Normandy. Told herself it was just adrenaline. Just the intimacy of surviving. A man like Lewis Nixon didn’t mean the things he said when there was whiskey in his breath and smoke in the air. And she didn’t want to be one more mistake he tried to drink away.

But it never stopped.

He kept circling back to her. In the mess, at debriefings, brushing past her in narrow halls just close enough to make her breath hitch. He was never overt—not really—but he lingered. In looks. In jokes. In late-night silences that made her stomach twist.

And worst of all?

She liked it.

She liked him.

The way he was sharp and broken in equal measure. The way he let his guard down around her, just a little, like she was the one person who wouldn’t try to fix him or leave him worse.

She flushed now—not from his words, but from the heat of wanting something she knew she couldn’t have.

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, mostly to herself. 

Because if she let herself fall any deeper into this, she didn’t know if she’d survive it.

“She’s gonna stab you with her pen,” Speirs said dryly, not even looking up.

“Oh, come on,” Nixon teased, chin in hand now, eyes fixed on her with that glint—playful, yes. But something darker too, “You know I’m not the only one who enjoys hearing you talk, sweetheart.”

There was a beat of silence after Nixon spoke—just long enough to feel loaded.

Dick Winters didn’t even look up from the report in front of him. His jaw ticked slightly, but he said nothing, flipping a page with the same crisp precision as always. Still, anyone who knew him could read the warning in that subtle shift: Careful, Nix.

Speirs, leaning against the windowsill with arms crossed, gave a barely audible snort. He didn’t say much—he never did—but the slight upward tug at the corner of his mouth said enough. Amusement. Disbelief. Maybe even a touch of curiosity, like he was watching a slow-burning fuse and wondering when it would reach the powder.

“I am this close to translating something wrong on purpose and letting Speirs go in guns blazing,” she shot back.

Harry leaned forward suddenly, lips twitching, “Okay, is anyone gonna say it or should I?”

“No,” Winters warned preemptively, still reading.

Harry ignored him. Harry Welsh dropped his pencil with a clatter and let out a laugh that was far too loud for the room, “Jesus, Nix,” he grinned, rubbing a hand down his face, “You flirting or interrogating? You two look like you're about five seconds away from tearing each other's clothes off or tearing each other’s throats out—I can’t tell which.”

“Harry,” Dick warned, sharper this time, finally looking up.

But Harry just held up his hands innocently, eyes wide, “What? I’m just saying. You two look like you're about five seconds away from aggressively making out,” he said cheerfully, “Which, for the record, is what usually happens when Kitty and I argue like this. Except sometimes, y’know, we just go ahead and fuck.”

That shut everyone up—including Y/N, who went still as stone, her cheeks going crimson.

Nixon just chuckled, slow and low, not taking his eyes off her.

And that—that—was what made Dick finally close the file with a firm snap.

Winters slowly lifted his eyes and gave Harry the look.

“Shutting up,” Harry said immediately, hands up.

But the damage was done.

She didn’t say another word for the rest of the debriefing. And Nixon? He stopped pretending to read and started drinking in silence.

The silence that followed was long enough to stretch.

Dick, still holding the closed file in both hands, looked between them—first at Nixon, who had resumed nursing his canteen of whiskey with deliberate ease, and then at Y/N, who sat stiff in her chair, jaw clenched, staring furiously down at the translated report like it might burst into flames under her glare.

“You two need to figure out whatever this is,” Winters said evenly, not unkind but firm, “Before it starts affecting more than just the mood in the room,” it wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a warning. It was a statement. Clear. Measured. But sharp enough to cut through whatever tension had wrapped itself around them.

Speirs, still lounging against the windowsill, piped up without looking over, “Just make sure it doesn’t affect enemy intel either. I’d hate to walk into a death trap because Nix was too busy trying to undress someone with his eyes.”

Y/N made a sound—half laugh, half exasperated groan, “You know what really affects intel?” she snapped, glaring at Nixon now, “The fact that this one never pays attention. I could be translating Hitler’s funeral plans and he’d still be staring at my goddamn mouth instead of the map.”

Harry choked on a laugh but covered it with a cough. Speirs raised an eyebrow. Dick didn't react—his expression unreadable—but the silence deepened around them, the air turning almost too still.

And then, without thinking—again—Lewis spoke.

Low. Careless. Raw.

“Can you blame me?”

The words hung there.

Not teasing. Not grinning.

Just true.

Everyone froze.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. She didn’t move, didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe.

Harry actually whistled under his breath.

Even Speirs straightened just slightly, the ghost of a smirk fading from his face.

Dick stared at Nixon for a long moment. And when he finally spoke, it was quiet.

“Out. Both of you.”

“But—” Y/N started.

“Out,” Dick repeated, without raising his voice.

Nixon stood slowly. No jokes this time. No grin.

Just those dark eyes, flicking to her like a storm ready to break.

Y/N followed, every step like walking on ice.

The door shut behind them, and the room fell into stunned silence.

“…Told you,” Harry muttered, “Aggressively making out. Five seconds.”

The hallway outside the debriefing room was dim, narrow, and oppressively quiet. The only sound was the low hum of distant generators and the dull buzz still ringing in Y/N’s ears from what Lewis had just said.

Can you blame me?

She hadn’t expected it—not like that. Not with that look on his face. Not with that truth in his voice.

She marched a few paces ahead of him, arms crossed tightly over her chest, trying to keep her expression neutral. Professional. Unbothered. But her heart was beating too loud and too fast and too hopeful, and that made her furious.

Lewis followed behind her with slower steps, the rhythm of his boots uneven, like even he wasn’t sure where this was going.

Finally, halfway down the corridor, she stopped and spun on him.

“You’re an idiot,” she hissed.

He stopped too, head tilted, “That’s fair.”

“And you can’t say shit like that in front of everyone!”

His brow lifted, slow and unreadable, “I didn’t plan on saying it, Y/N.”

“You never plan anything, Lewis,” she snapped, “You drink, and you stare, and you flirt like you don’t care who’s watching—like this is some goddamn game. But it’s not. You have a wife. You—”

“I know,” he said quietly. Firmly, “I know I do.”

That stilled her.

And it was the way he said it—not defensive, not deflecting—that made her heart twist.

She looked at him for a long second, trying to read past the shadows under his eyes and the way his shoulders sagged slightly, like carrying the weight of it all had finally started wearing him down.

“Then why?” she whispered, barely audible.

Lewis took a step closer. Then another. Close enough now that she had to tilt her chin up slightly to meet his gaze.

“Because you’re the only thing that still feels real,” he said, voice low, steady, “Everything else is noise. The war, the drinking, the mistakes I’ve made. But when you walk into a room—when you talk, even if I don’t listen like I should—you cut through it. You make me feel like I haven’t completely drowned yet. You think I don’t know how wrong this is?” he said, voice low, “But I never once wanted something so badly.”

She stared at him, heart pounding. Y/N’s throat tightened. She hated how part of her wanted to lean into him. Hated how part of her believed every word.

Her voice trembled, “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“I have to,” he said, “Because if I don’t say it now, I might never get the chance.”

Silence settled again. Not awkward. Not angry.

Just heavy.

The silence stretched, thick and weighted, as they stood in that dim hallway between two breaths, between two choices.

Y/N dropped her gaze first. Not because she was weak—but because if she kept looking at him like that, she was afraid she’d fall into something she couldn’t climb back out of, “I hate the way you drink,” she said suddenly, the words slipping out before she could catch them.

Nixon blinked. It was the first time her voice had truly cut—not teasing, not playful, not distant. Just honest.

“I know,” he said quietly.

But she wasn’t done, “I don’t mean the smell or the slurring,” she whispered, eyes still fixed on the floor, “I hate what it does to you. How it dulls everything good. How it makes you forget what you’ve got. How it—” her voice cracked, just slightly, “How it makes you look right through me some nights like I’m not even real.”

He stiffened. That stopped him. Like the world had hit pause. Not because he was offended. Not because he didn’t know it was true. But because it was the first time she’d said it. 

Out loud. No jokes. No sarcasm. No safe distance.

And she wasn’t afraid of him. She wasn’t afraid he’d hurt her.

She was afraid he was already hurting himself.

“You’ll drink yourself to pieces, Lew,” she added, softer now, “And I don’t want to watch you drown when I know I’d still reach for you, even as you dragged me under.”

He stared at her, stunned quiet.

Then he stepped forward.

One slow, deliberate step.

“I’ll stop,” he said, “If you want me to. I’ll stop.”

Her eyes met his again, uncertain. Hope flickering at the edges of fear, “You’ve said that before,” she whispered, “To other people.”

“I didn’t mean it before,” Lewis murmured, and this time, he reached out—gently, firmly—and took her by the wrists, pulling her just close enough that her breath caught. His voice was rough, but clear, “I promise,” he said, eyes locked on hers, like if he said it with enough conviction, it might undo all the wreckage behind him.

Y/N looked up at him, her heart in her throat.

And for the first time in a long time, Lewis Nixon wasn’t running from anything.

She stared into his eyes and saw everything she’d been trying so hard not to feel.

Not just the want—that had always been there, simmering beneath every careless smirk and lingering glance—but the ache. The quiet desperation. The way he looked at her like she was the only clean thing left in a world that had gone to hell.

And for a second—just one painful, electric second—she wondered how long he’d been carrying this weight alone. How long she had.

She’d fought it for months. For reasons that were good and right and solid. He was married. He was self-destructive. He drank too much. He flirted too easily. He lived like he didn’t think he’d make it to the end of the war—and most days, neither did she.

But in this moment, all of that fell away.

Because this wasn’t about logic. It wasn’t about rules. It wasn’t about what was right or wrong or what the others would think.

It was about now.

Because he said he would stop. Because he meant it. Because for once, he wasn’t trying to charm his way out of the truth—he was facing it. Because his eyes were steady and open, and all she saw there was her.

And maybe it would end badly.

Maybe it would fall apart.

But for once, she wasn’t afraid of falling.

Because somewhere along the way—between the war and the silences and all the almosts—she’d already fallen.

So before she could talk herself out of it, before fear clawed its way back in, Y/N grabbed the front of his jacket, pulled him down to her—and kissed him like it was the only thing keeping them both alive.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t slow.

It was years of tension igniting all at once—messy and breathless and real. He responded instantly, hands fisting in her sleeves, mouth desperate against hers like he’d been waiting his whole life for permission.

When they finally broke apart, gasping, foreheads pressed together, she whispered, “This doesn’t fix anything.”

“I know,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over her cheek, “But it doesn’t make it any less true.”

She didn’t pull away.

And he didn’t let go.

Inside the debriefing room, the air had settled again, though the tension still clung faintly to the walls like smoke after a fire.

Dick Winters sat stiffly at the table, arms folded, his expression unreadable but his eyes fixed on the closed door that Y/N and Nixon had just walked through. The silence that followed their exit had stretched too long—long enough that it was impossible not to wonder what was happening on the other side.

Harry, who had tried to focus on the scattered intel pages in front of him for all of three seconds, leaned back in his chair with a smug little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He waited.

Waited just a bit longer.

Then, with a small cough and no particular sense of timing or shame, he said, “So...we all heard that kiss, right?”

Dick didn’t move. Speirs raised one brow, unimpressed.

“I mean,” Harry added, throwing his hands up casually, “I did say they were about five seconds away from aggressively making out. You all laughed—except Speirs, who doesn’t have emotions—but I was right.”

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose.

Speirs looked directly at Harry, expression as deadpan as ever, then reached out and slapped the back of his head with a sharp thwap.

“Ow— what the hell, Ron?!”

“That’s for being insufferable,” Speirs said flatly, “And for the phrase ‘aggressively making out.’”

Harry rubbed the back of his head, muttering, “Still accurate.”

Dick finally exhaled, the barest flicker of something like resigned concern crossing his face, “This is going to complicate everything,” he murmured, mostly to himself.

Speirs gave a lazy shrug, “Could be worse.”

Harry perked up, “Yeah, at least it wasn’t in here. I’d never be able to sit in this room again if they’d started ripping uniforms off.”

Dick gave him the look again.

Harry shut up. Briefly.

But the door stayed closed.

And none of them said it out loud—but they all knew something had changed.

For better or worse…that line had finally been crossed.

[jesseeka]

See the Good

Eugene Sledge x Medic!Reader

Masterlist

A/N: Merry Christmas @iceman-kazansky!! I literally squealed when I saw I got you as my giftee! I loved your prompts, and I hope you like what I did with them!! I'm going to post one gift per day so that they'll be a little spaced out! hbo owns the rights, and this is about the fictional portrayal of k company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Prompt: “You always see the good in people. Even me.”

Word Count: 5.7k

Summary: When Gene can only see himself as the terrible things he's done in the war, (y/n) is right there to remind him who he really is.

Warnings: descriptions of dead bodies (non-graphic)

OKINAWA, JAPAN: MAY, 1945:

The ground beneath their boots trembled, and the deafening whistles of mortars filled the air as (y/n) and the rest of K Company ran for cover. They sunk into the muddy sludge below them, turning each step into a battle against the sucking earth. Gripping her corpsman pack with white knuckles, (y/n) followed Gene, not daring to stop in the barrage.

“They have us targeted!” Burgie yelled, hurdling over a giant boulder in his path. “Get to cover!”

Just as (y/n) ran past the remnants of a demolished shed, a sudden blast threw her violently to the ground, sending a cascade of mud in all directions. Her ears rang with disorientation as she blinked slowly, struggling to regain her senses. The ringing faded into a muffled whine and a face appeared in (y/n)‘s vision. Although the figure’s face was blurred, she knew it was Eugene. His mouth moved rapidly, but she couldn’t understand a word he said. Realizing this, he quickly grasped the front of her uniform and hoisted her to her feet, throwing an arm around her waist to keep her upright as they bolted for cover.

Reaching the rocks, (y/n)‘s hearing slowly faded back, and the sounds of booming artillery reached her ears.

Sledge pulled on her arm, helping her over the rugged terrain. “Come on. We’re almost there!”

Finally reaching the safety of cover, the company continued farther into the rocks to escape the barrage. Snafu was in front of them and on the verge of a panicked breakdown.

“This is bullshit!” he cried, plopping down on a rock. “If I ever find the FO that called that arty, I’ll shoot him!”

Gene maintained his hold on (y/n) as he led them toward a big rock, his frustration evident. “They’ll just do it again,” he huffed, gritting his teeth. “All because some asshole officer read a map wrong and nobody gives a shit about us!”

After he sat (y/n) on the boulder beside Snafu, Eugene took a deep breath and sank beside her. He turned to the dazed woman beside him, her once white corpsman armband a brown and muddy mess. “You alright?” he asked her, knowing even he himself wasn’t alright after what happened before the shelling.

The woman and her baby…

(Y/n) nodded slowly, her eyes rising from the ground to meet his. ”Yeah. Just got my bell rung. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” Sledge persisted.

“Yes, Gene. I’m okay,” she murmured wearily, rubbing her eyes. “Really.”

Removing her helmet, she threaded her fingers through her (y/h/c) hair, wincing at the dried mud that pulled at the roots. Over their time on the dreadful island, they all discovered that the jungle was just as much an enemy as the Japs.

Snafu stared wide-eyed at the ground below him, hands on his head as his chest heaved. His expression was the same one that each marine wore as they grappled with the massacre they’d just witnessed.

What country uses its own civilians as shields for a surprise attack?

As a corpsman, (y/n) had seen more death than the average marine, and after the fierce fighting on the islands of Peleliu and Pavuvu, she was struggling to remain afloat in the vast ocean of numbness that threatened to drown her. The only thing keeping her above water were her boys, the men of K Company: Sledge, Snafu, Burgin, and De L’eau, although Jay had been transferred to intelligence. They’d lost so many good men, and it made her even more thankful for the guys who had always been there for her.

“Corpsman up front!”

The call snapped (y/n) from her thoughts, and she quickly rose, momentarily losing her balance until a strong hand grasped her upper arm, holding her steady. She felt the warmth of his hand through her thin ODs as he held her in place, accompanied by a blush creeping up her neck.

“(Y/n)-” Gene started.

Shrugging him off gently, she turned toward the call. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Be careful,” he whispered after her, watching her form disappear into a sea of olive-green uniforms. With another deep breath, Sledge sat back down, trying to calm his still-racing heart. She had been right behind him…until she wasn’t. Panic had gripped him when he saw her motionless figure in the mud as the artillery rained down around them. When she opened her eyes, he felt a weight lift off his chest.

Rain drenched the marines through the night as they held their position looking up to the ridge. Around 2000HRS the next day, (y/n) trudged back to her squad, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Dried blood clung to her cracked hands, refusing to wash away, no matter how many times she’d scrubbed them raw. The casualties were unending like the rain that constantly poured on them. Luckily, the downpour had come to a stop in the early morning.

She’d been at the BAS since the previous afternoon treating and evacuating wounded marines from the already bloody battle. Continued artillery and fire throughout the day brought a steady stream of bleeding men through the tent’s entrance. One of these men had been Bill Leyden. He wasn’t in good shape, and when (y/n) saw the damage on her friend’s body, the air rushed from her lungs. After pushing away the panic, she quickly helped other corpsmen stabilize him, before sending him off to a hospital ship. As she watched him go, her heart sank at the realization the company had lost another man…another friend.

“Hey Doc,” Snafu called out gently as she approached.

She looked up from her feet at the man with a tired smile. “Hey, Snaf,” she whispered. “You seen Gene?”

Motioning over his shoulder, Snafu replied, “He’s right over there. But, Bill…“

“Yeah,” she sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We got him stabilized. He should make a full recovery. Lost a few fingers, though.”

In a trance-like state, Snafu nodded, his gaze fixed ahead. It was something they all did. A way to escape the horrors they lived through. With a gentle squeeze of his shoulder, (y/n) moved to find Sledge, but the Cajun’s voice stopped her.

“Eugene. He got a letter…his dog died.”

She turned to face him with raised brows. “Deacon?”

“I guess,” the man nodded. “I think he’s bothered more than he’s letting on. You know how Eugene is.”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to him.”

She found him staring into space ahead of him as he sat up against one of the island’s many rocks. Before she approached, (y/n) simply watched the man before her. She could see his growing stubble and the mud that splattered his cheeks, but what worried her was the blank expression on his face. She longed to see the lopsided smile that used to hang from his lips. (Y/n) didn’t know how long it had been since she’d seen that smile…too long.

Pulling her satchel off her shoulder, she quietly approached him and slouched down beside him. They sat silently for a moment, the warmth of their touching shoulders spreading through them. Gene was the first to break the silence.

“Did you see Bill?” he asked quietly, his eyes still glued on the rocks in front of him.

(Y/n) nodded, looking up at him with a small smile. “Yeah, he’s gonna be okay.”

Gene leaned his head back against the ground with a thud, his eyes closed as a shuttering sigh escaped his lips. She sat up off the rock and turned toward him, gently taking his hand.

“I’m sorry about Deacon.”

The second her fingers intertwined with his, Sledge’s heartbeat accelerated, and the man felt heat spread through his body. He took a moment to compose himself before he opened his eyes. He looked down at their intertwined hands before meeting her concerned gaze.

In that moment, Eugene could have sworn she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. It didn’t matter that she was coated in blood, mud, and sweat. She was there for him like nobody else had ever been in his whole life. Sure, he was close with his parents, but he felt they never completely understood him.

Who’d have thought that he’d have to travel almost eight thousand miles to find someone who could do so?

Eugene’s eyes flashed down to her lips, unable to control himself as their closeness made him suddenly bold. He always wondered what they’d taste like. How they’d feel against his. They were chapped, just like everyone else's, but that didn’t matter. The young man wanted a way to show her how much she meant to him. Sure, there had been moments where he told himself he was going to kiss her, but the moment ended before he had the opportunity. Something in the moment felt wrong, though, and he decided to wait once more.

“Thank you,” he whispered, swallowing thickly as he tried to regain his composure and keep the memories of his beloved dog at bay. “He was a good dog.”

“How old was he? 10? 11?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “10.”

The woman’s eyes searched his face, trying to get a read of what he needed from her. She saw pain in his hazel eyes. Pain from the loss of Bill. Pain from the loss of Deacon. Pain caused by the war.

She decided he needed some hope. Some laughter.

“Did I tell you about the time Snaf and I almost got caught stealing from an Army captain?”

Later that day, Gene and the rest of his squad sat among the rocks, each lost in their mind. (Y/n) was beside him, writing in her journal, and they were doing the same…all except Peck, who was attempting to dig a foxhole in the soaked ground. Since the day they arrived on the wretched island, Sledge kept up with how many days they spent there with tallies in the back of his Bible. With the days running together, they rarely knew what day it was or how long they’d been there.

“What’s the date?” Burgie asked, putting down his small journal.

The group turned to Gene, who took a deep breath. “June 5th, maybe. Might be the 6th.” He turned to (y/n). “(Y/n/n), which one you got?”

“I have no idea,” she sighed. “I gave up keeping track a while ago.”

Peck decided to chime in as he dug. “We’re never getting off this island.”

Everyone was thinking it, but he was the one person who dared to speak it aloud.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, glancing over at Gene with an annoyed expression. If looks could kill, Peck would be six feet deep from the redhead’s glare. His jaw clenched tightly, and his chest began to heave as he stared at the replacement.

Sensing his rising anger, (y/n) reached over and placed a hand on his thigh. His eyes moved to meet hers, and her (y/e/c) irises seemed to whisper, ”He’s not worth it,” and, “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Gene took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. Beating the crap out of Peck wouldn’t bring Bill back, and letting anger consume you was a dangerous game. Every time he was tempted to let it in, (y/n) was right there, a soft presence telling him that hate was not the answer. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted daily. Sledge had seen what men could do to each other. He had seen what the Japs did to his friends.

Looking away from Gene, she was met with a strange stare from Snafu, who was smoking a cigarette and sitting on their makeshift toilet. His gaze was questioning, but not criticizing. When the man’s eyes drifted down to her hand, her stomach dropped, and she felt like she was caught red-handed. (Y/n) quickly removed her hand from Gene’s leg and shot to her feet.

“I’m gonna go-uh-do some rounds,” she announced, not daring to look at Gene or Snafu.

A few seconds later, she went treading through the sludge, her corpsman satchel pressed tightly to her side. The men all watched in confusion as she left, unsure what had made her so jumpy all of a sudden.

“She alright?” Hamm asked once she’d disappeared from view.

Burgie, always an observer, glanced over at Sledge to watch his reaction. He looked somewhat like a kicked puppy. Wrapping up his Bible, Gene began to tuck it into his pocket without a word.

“Don’t worry about (y/n), Hamm,” Burgie replied with a nod.

Hamm raised an eyebrow at his sergeant. “But did you see her-”

“She’s fine,” Snafu interrupted, pulling up his pants and rejoining the group. “Besides, she’s already got someone to worry about her.”

At the statement, Eugene froze, a cold chill running through him despite the heat. A million thoughts ran rampant in his mind.

Is there someone else in her life?

Does he know something I don’t?

Does he know how I feel?

Groaning, Burgie smacked the Cajun’s shoulder. “Shut up, Snaf. Don’t go starting crap.”

The sergeant first noticed the bond between Sledge and (y/n) back in training, but especially when the company landed on Peleliu. They always stuck by one another when they could, and she seemed to help calm the Marine amid his anxiety. As time went on and their relationship changed, Romus knew they had feelings for one another, even if they didn’t admit it. He’d never spoken about it to anyone, fearing it could become a rumor that would possibly get the pair in trouble if they ever acted on their feelings. Hearing Snafu insinuate something between them sent a pang of panic through him.

“We all worry about (y/n),” he continued. “But she’s a great corpsman. She can hold her own.”

Before he could finish his sentence, Eugene rose to his feet and went to take a leak. He did have to relieve himself, but he also wanted to get away from the conversation. If Snafu knew about how he felt, the man would never stop tormenting him. Even if it was in a joking way, Gene didn’t want to be the subject of Shelton’s teasing.

Just as he made it to a somewhat secluded spot, he heard Mac’s voice ring out from above him.

“I need a stovepipe boy up top!” he yelled, coming down from the ridge.

Gene slightly ducked his head behind a rock, hoping the lieutenant would miss him. To his dismay, Mac caught his movement in the corner of his eye.

“Sledge, that’s you. Bring some comm wire.”

Sighing when his superior disappeared over the ridge, he muttered, “Yes, sir,” and went to follow his orders.

The stench of excrement and death permeated the air as (y/n) walked through their temporary camp checking on the men. Her eyes watered from the smell, and it took all her willpower not to gag. Even though she’d built a great tolerance to gruesome sights and smells over her time as a corpsman, sometimes it all got to her.

Snafu’s stare replayed in her mind, and she hoped that she didn’t accidentally give herself away to the group. Worry buzzed in her stomach like the disgusting flies that seemed to be ever-present among the mud and filth of Okinawa. (Y/n) tried to busy her mind with the long list of men to check on, but she couldn’t focus more than a few moments before getting lost in her head again.

Spotting a man on her list, she called out to him.

“Hey, James,” she greeted, approaching his muddy foxhole. “How’s the ankle?”

He groaned and shook his head. “As good as it’s gonna be, Doc.”

In the barrage the day prior, the private slipped and rolled his ankle in the mud trying to get to cover. He insisted he was fine, but some of his squadmates sent (y/n) to check on him. Henry James was a stubborn young man who wasn’t even old enough to drink, yet he was on a foreign island in Southeast Asia fighting for his country…fighting to survive. She crouched beside his hole, inspecting the ankle that was elevated above the entrance.

“Were you able to stay off it much?” (y/n) asked, gently prodding the bruised skin.

“A buddy of mine took my OP shift so I didn’t have to walk around on it. It’s more stiff than anything.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “That’s how ankles are. They’re tough-”

Her voice came to a stop as yelling filled the air. It wasn’t cheers of victory or anything of that nature. They were cries of attack…of desperation…of death. The second the sound registered in her mind, she was darting toward the ridge, hoping to get there before the shooting started in case someone got hit. The rapid beating of her heart filled her ears as she ran through the mud and past battle-weary marines. A few of them called out to her, but she didn’t hear them.

The first ping of an M-1 being fired echoed through the air as she made it to the base of the rocky ridge. Cursing under her breath, she quickly began her ascent. Finding the most solid footing, she climbed the hill, using the jagged rocks as handholds. Gunfire filled the air, silencing the screams of the enemy. (Y/n) was out of breath when she made it to the top, but she didn’t stop. Most of the fire had stopped, but a few shots still rang out.

At the moment the corpsman reached the other marines at the top of the ridge, her heart sank at the sight of Eugene unholstering his revolver and aiming at a wounded Jap.

“Cease fire!” Mac cried from the other side of the ridge. “Cease fire!”

Gene didn’t care.

“Damn, Sledge. Leave him,” Hamm muttered to the redhead.

Whipping around to face him, Eugene scowled. “What for? He’s a Jap, ain’t he?”

(Y/n) watched in horror as Gene opened fire on the man already wallowing in the mud. He missed the first two shots, but the third hit its mark, hitting the Jap just above his hip. The soldier sunk into the mud face down, his writhing coming to an end.

“Cease fire!” The Lieutenant repeated as he neared them. “Cease fire, damn it!”

Satisfied with his work, Sledge grabbed his rifle from beside Hamm and turned to descend the ridge. When he noticed (y/n) a few yards away, he froze for a moment, his eyes resembling a dark storm cloud that could start down pouring any second. Guilt seemed to cloud his usual hazel eyes, and he looked away, unable to stay steady beneath her gaze after what he’d just done. He then continued down the ridge.

Mac was quick to confront him, gripping his carbine in one hand with white knuckles.

“I told you to cease fire. What are you doing?”

The private spun to face Mac with gritted teeth.“Killing Japs,” he seethed, turning to go down the hill again.

Before he could get far, the lieutenant spoke again. “You just gave away our position!”

“I think they’ve got a pretty good idea of where we are,” Gene chuckled bitterly.

Mac pointed toward the dead Japs. “I told you to cease fire. You’re supposed to be observing, and then I see you with a damn sidearm!

“We were all sent here to kill Japs, weren’t we?” Sledge screamed, climbing back up to be nose-to-nose with his lieutenant. “So what the hell difference does it make what weapon we use?”

(Y/n) couldn’t help but flinch at Gene’s sudden outburst. She’d never seen him like this before, and she wondered what made him finally break. What was the straw that broke the camel’s back? What had happened in the five minutes she was gone?

A tear streaked down her cheek seeing the man she cared about more than anything giving in to the war. Seeing a man be reduced to a shell of who he once was was always heartbreaking, and (y/n) didn’t realize just how much until she witnessed him finally crack.

“I’d use my damn hands if I had to,” he whispered to a frozen Mac, who clenched his jaw and slowly walked past him. (Y/n) was quick to try and follow Gene once he stormed down the hill, but a gentle hand on her shoulder held her back.

It was Burgin, his face scrunched with concern. “Let ‘em cool off, (y/n/n).”

“Romus, he-”

“I know what he means to you,” he interrupted in a whisper as he glanced around them for any eavesdroppers. “But trust me. You need to leave him be for a little bit. Let him think.”

(Y/n) swallowed thickly. “Please don’t tell anyone, Burgie. I could be-”

“Your secret’s safe with me…He needs you, (y/l/n), but give him a few hours.”

Releasing a shuddering breath, her gaze dropped to the ground. “He was fine when I left. What happened?”

“I don’t know. But we did hear him hollering about something right before he went up top.”

“Thanks for everything, Burg,” she sighed, patting his shoulder softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you and the guys.”

A sheepish smile grew on his face, and he chuckled under his breath. “You’d be a lot more ladylike, that’s for sure. The other day, I’m pretty sure I saw you smoking Sledge’s pipe.”

“Whatever,” she groaned, rubbing a hand down her dirty face. “A lot of women actually smoke, ya know?”

The rest of the afternoon did not go according to (y/n)‘s plan, and she was unable to check on Gene after he cooled down. Within an hour of his outburst, she was called back to the field hospital to assist in an all-hands-on-deck emergency following a Jap ambush. The corpsman was up to her elbows in blood, bowels, and every other bodily fluid from vomit to urine. It was a hard night, and it got even worse when a terrible rainstorm moved in, trapping her from returning to her company due to poor visibility.

(Y/n) spent the night, and most of the next day, helping around the hospital. She dressed wounds, administered pain meds, and helped transport men to the hospital ships on a Jeep. A radio call was received that told of the 1st Marine’s plans to take the ridge, and (y/n) knew she needed to be there.

She caught a ride to the ridge just in time for the assault. The men were checking their weapons and quietly conversing with each other as she walked through the various companies. When she reached her squad, however, silence filled the air. They all had thousand-yard stares, and the group was missing two guys who had been there the day before. Her pace slowed as she approached them.

“Hey, guys,” (y/n) said softly, her eyes flicking from man to man. When none of them acknowledged her, she knew something bad had happened. “Where’s Hamm and Peck?”

Silence.

She took a deep breath, trying not to imagine the worst. “Please, guys, whe-”

“Gone,” Gene interrupted harshly, his gaze snapping to hers. “Hamm's dead and Peck’s gone. He cracked.”

(Y/n) felt the all-too-familiar punch of grief knock the air from her lungs. Eugene’s hazel eyes were dark and stormy, even more so than the previous day. She swallowed thickly, attempting to push down the emotion that clogged her throat.

“What happened?” she asked shakily, her eyes never leaving Gene’s.

Before he could respond, Snafu spoke. “Doesn’t matter. They’re gone.”

“Shelton’s right,” Burgin added. “It’s hard, but we’ve got other things to focus on.”

(Y/n) nodded once and dropped her gaze to the group, blinking away the tears that burned her eyes. Two more of their group were gone. Sure, Peck wasn’t her favorite person by any means, but he was still part of their company….on their side. And Hamm…he was a kid. A kid who deserved better than to die in the mud on some foreign island.

They all deserved better.

“Let’s move out!” Mac announced, waving for them to follow.

Each man followed suit, but Eugene hung back to wait on (y/n). Seeing her tear-filled eyes, he instantly regretted opening his mouth. The anger within him seemed to dissipate momentarily as he joined her side.

“Remember, you’ve got a bullseye on your arm,” he murmured, gesturing to the red and white medic brassard on her arm. “Please be careful.”

“I will.” (Y/n) lifted her helmet to look up at him through her lashes. “You take care of yourself, too, alright?”

“Yes ma’am,” he whispered, admiring her features. His eyes trailed from her eyes down to her nose, and then to her lips before flicking back to her (y/e/c) eyes. They stayed locked in each other’s gaze for a few moments, their eyes seeming to have a silent conversation communicating everything that was left unsaid. Gene slowly reached up to cup her cheek, rubbing his thumb over her cheekbone. The racing of (y/n)‘s heart wasn’t from the artillery that had begun hammering the ridge, but Eugene’s warm caress against her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed at the gentle touch.

They both wished the moment could last forever.

Another yell from Mac shattered the moment, leaving (y/n) missing the tenderness of his hand in its absence.

“I’ll find you after,” he said, turning around and backpedaling to catch up with his squad. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

The corner of her lips quirked into a smirk. “I’ll leave that to you.”

Once the battle had died down and all the remaining Japanese were either killed or taken prisoner, (y/n) went searching for Gene. When the bullets began to fly, she couldn’t get the boy from Mobile off her mind, and anxiety churned in her stomach as she looked for him. The stench of gasoline, blood, and burnt flesh filled the air along her ascent to the ridge. Bodies of both marines and the enemy lined the narrow path up the hill, and her eyes scanned each one, praying that none of them were the men she’d come to love dearly.

“Burgie, you seen Sledgehammer? He was just over here.”

Hearing the familiar Cajun accent, she spun toward the voice and sighed in relief when she saw Snafu atop an old bunker, his legs swinging as he sat on the edge with a cigarette hanging from his lip. Romus was talking to another sergeant a few feet away, his rifle swung around his shoulder.

“There you are!” (Y/n) called out, reaching up and slapping Snafu’s foot. It was all she could reach from his elevated position on the concrete bunker. “You alright?”

He smiled and raised an eyebrow, blowing a puff of smoke into the humid air. “Not a scratch on me,” he mused. “I don’t know where Eugene is, but don’t worry, I just saw him. He’s okay, too.”

With this news, a wave of calm washed over her, and she let out the breath she’d been holding since they parted. “Thanks, Snaf. I’ll find him.”

“Have fun,” he laughed, waving his cigarette around in front of him. “And do me a favor and fuc-”

This caught Burgie's attention. “Hey!” He interrupted, scolding Snafu like he was a parent whose child was acting up in public. “Cut it out.”

Busting out laughing, Snafu winked at (y/n), who could feel the embarrassment creeping up her cheeks at his intended comment. She raised a hand and flipped him off with a grin before continuing her search for Gene.

It took her a few minutes of wandering to spot his familiar frame among the sea of dirty green uniforms, but when she did, a huge smile painted her face. (Y/n) almost called out to him, but something stopped her.

He was sitting alone on the busted remains of a bunker with his helmeted head in his hands, his weapon lying idle in the dirt beside him. She continued toward him slowly, observing the gentle shake of his shoulders that told her he was crying.

“Hey, Gene,” (y/n) murmured with a softness that matched the gravity of the moment, lowering herself onto the earth beside him. He reacted quickly, averting his gaze and hiding his face as he wiped the tears from his dirt-covered cheeks.

Reaching over, she softly turned his face toward her. After a moment of resistance, he gave in to her gentle touch. His eyes, glistening with unshed tears, met hers. (Y/n)‘s fingertips traced the dirt-streaked paths on his cheeks, her touch a soothing escape from the horror they lived in.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, ducking to meet his eyes. “I’m here.”

Gene’s lip began to quiver, and a stifled sob escaped him as he covered his face with trembling hands. “I’m a monster, (y/n). The things I’ve done…” he strained, moving away from her comforting touch.

(Y/n) watched the play of emotions on his face as he stood up abruptly, throwing an arm out to point to a bombed-out building. The skeletal remains of what once was a home loomed in the smoky haze. “There was a family in there. Now a baby with grow up without a family! I called in the mortars up there! I did that! I’m a monster!”

“No,” she shot up, her voice cutting him off. “You are not a monster, Eugene Sledge. We are at war. We’ve all done terrible things here, but it does not make you a monster. The fact that you’re feeling like you are proves you’re not. It means you’re human, Gene.”

Another tear streaked down his cheek as he clenched his teeth. “After Bill and everyone we’ve lost, I wanted to get them back. I wanted to. You saw me yesterday!”

“Eugene! Look at me!” she ordered, cupping his cheeks as she implored his attention. His gaze wandered everywhere but her face until she spoke again, her tone much softer this time. “Hon, please look at me.”

Tear-filled hazel eyes met hers, and she tugged him a little closer, they’re faces only inches apart. “We all want to get them back. You are not a monster.”

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” he croaked, more tears spilling down his cheeks. “What if this is who I am now?”

“I know exactly who you are. You are Eugene Bondurant Sledge. You’re still that same boy from Mobile, Alabama who loved his dog more than anything, the same one who loved to fish with his father, and the very same one who I fell in love with before we even stepped foot on foreign soil.”

A sob escaped his lips, and his eyes squeezed shut, overwhelmed by her words. “There’s no way you can love me like this. You deserve someone else who-”

“I don’t love anyone else, Gene!” she urged, tears stinging her eyes. “I love you, and I’ll say it over and over, every single day, for as long as it takes to make you believe me.”

Shaking his head, he tried to break free from her touch, but she held on. “I’m not a good man.”

“You are good, Eugene. You are a good man. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of, but it’s how we respond to them that makes us who we are. This right here? It proves you’re a good man.”

Her words seemed to break through in his mind, and he froze for a moment. Pulling off his helmet, he moved (y/n)‘s hands from his face and cupped her cheeks, his red eyes still glossy. “I love you,” he murmured, voice wavering. “And I will spend the rest of my life working to be worthy of you if you’ll let me.”

The tears (y/n) had been holding back filled her eyes, a few of them trickling from her waterline. She nodded in his gentle hold. “You already are.”

He wiped a few tears away softly, a lopsided smile forming on his lips. “You’re too good for this world, darlin’,” Gene cooed. “You always see the good in people. Even me.”

With utmost care, Gene reached up and removed (y/n)‘s helmet, her tousled (y/h/c) spilling out. The fading sun added a soft glow to their faces, emphasizing the exhaustion etched in their features. As he delicately held the helmet aside, Eugene’s eyes met (y/n)‘s, a silent understanding passing between them. He closed the gap, his breath mixing with hers as his eyes lingered on her face, taking in every detail-the mud smudges, the fatigue-as if memorizing each nuance.

With a gentle touch, he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was a tender blend of longing and comfort, a quiet promise to stay by the other’s side. In that moment, the world around them ceased to exist. Time slowed as they embraced, finding solace in the simple act of being together at last. The sounds of war faded into the background, replaced by the gentle symphony of two hearts seeking refuge in the warmth of each other’s touch.

[jesseeka]

*rubs hands together* hehehehe

"them gently tilting your chin" from the lovely prompts with eugene sledge pls and thank 💚

He was never bold. Not before the war. And hardly so afterward. Gene was adventurous, yes, before the war. Always blazing his bike across the dirt paths that connected your hamlet. Always chasing you through the trees and begging to stay out even though dusk threatened to blacken the night. But he was too shy to be bold. He was too reserved in his mannerisms. He was reticent when it usually counted most.

Yes, he raced you with glee from tree to trunk, but Gene withheld talk of dreams and he kept quiet about his truest feelings. That never stopped you from asking all kinds of questions, though. You asked what he wanted to be when he was old enough to decide. You asked where he would move if he could; you asked what made him tick and you asked why he never brought anyone else but you out to theses woods to waste away so many afternoons. Gene would never answer, not really. He would shrug and sometimes smile and go on skipping rocks at your side.

And then the war came. And Gene went with it. And that was bold of him, you thought. The boy who never dared to dream out loud was suddenly up and gone to the other side of the world, fighting for it. Of course, he didn't tell you. His mama did, some Sunday afternoon. She pulled you aside in the middle of the market and said Gene was too worried he'd upset you. Too shy to say he wanted you to write. She told you he'd already left, and you went to spend the afternoon skipping rocks alone.

Gene wrote you once, and you thought that was bold of him. He'd left you without a goodbye, and he didn't even address as much in his scrawling. He wrote about the weather and some friends he'd made. And you didn't expect him to write about how tired he must've been or how scared. But you wished he would've. And you wrote him back as much. Your letter was never returned.

You didn't see him when he got home. Not right away. You'd heard his family mention the fact that Gene was safe and sound and more reserved than ever. You didn't expect him to come knocking on your door and sweep you off your feet. Gene would never be so bold. But you wished he would've at least met you halfway; at curb where your neighborhoods connected, so you could tell him that you had missed him. That you still did. Had his sense of adventure been lost after his exploit across the ocean?

You wracked your brain, wondering if you should wait for him to come and see how you'd been. You wondered if Gene would answer the door if you went to call on him. You worried yourself into a frenzy over etiquette, were you just meant to leave Gene be, now that he was home? Would he even be the same sort of friend to you?

You wondered and worried all the way across town, kicking pebbles on the path that led to the pond, in the middle of the woods. You took a trail that was only worn into the ground from Gene's bike tracks. You recognized the pattern of the tire marks.

You recognized the very bike that had blazed this trail. You recognized Gene, skipping rocks like no time had passed at all.

There he was, where the water met the land. His trousers cuffed; his feet planted firmly along the shore. His back to you. All the etiquette you'd worried over was out the window. Because it was now or never.

"Eugene Sledge where have you been?"

The boy turned slowly but did not smile to see you. His eye's gleamed, and his posture settled, and he kept quiet as ever.

"All this time you've been home. I was wondering..."

"Wondering what?" He said, as you stepped closer, eager to settle at his side, like when you were kids. This was all familiar. But Gene wasn't so much. He was quieter, if that were possible. He was leaner, somehow. He was distant despite being the most present he'd been in years.

"Why you never told me you were leaving. Why you didn't write me much at all. Why this is the first time we're talkin'... Thought we were better friends than that."

"Well, that's just it ya see. I never wanted to be friends."

One sentence compacted so many years of answers you'd been wondering. Your heart dropped and your world stopped, and you knew Gene had gone through hell and back. But this...

"Well, we were friends, so-" You began to defend, letting your tone turn bittered. But before you could finish, Gene was speaking up again. Rare. Riveting. Infuriating. Now? You hadn't even asked, for once.

"I know and I'm glad. Thinking back to all the times we spent together out here growin' up and knowin' I could come back to doing just that helped me get through all the shit of war. I'm glad you were my friend, and I knew you'd still be. But I never really wanted that."

"You're not making one bit of sense, Eugene Sledge. No wonder you never said as much." Your eye could've stung with tears of hurt if you weren't so confounded by the look of pain on Gene's face, too. He'd moved to face you as his features twisted into a grimace. He was never much of a talker. Not when it really counted.

Maybe that's why now, when he said "Wait, listen," he didn't speak another word. He only demanded your attention by reaching out in silence, big sad eye's locked on yours. Gene brushed the tips of his fingers across your chin, tilting your face closer to his. His lips parted to speak, but silence lingered as Gene brushed his knuckles across your cheek. His kiss came slow, and his lips were soft on yours. His kiss was a surprise you hadn't expected. It was a timid gesture that lasted only a few glorious seconds. How wondrously bold of him.

"That's... that's what I meant." Eugene Sledge muttered, both his eyes darting between either of yours. You wanted to shake him and grab him and laugh and call him silly for waiting so long.

"Well, I'd ask you to do it again, but you don't answer many of my questions. So, I'm tellin' you to do that again."

"I know we got a lot'a talkin' to do. Years worth. But I'd better follow orders first." Gene smiled. The first smile you'd seen in forever. His grin met yours and he kissed you proper, for enough time that seemed to make up for all that felt lost before. Maybe he hadn't misplaced his sense of adventure after all...

[jesseeka]

The Pacific ▶ K company

[jesseeka]

The Captain and his First Lieutenant

Some Hilldane for @ackackh because he has the best ideas.

[jesseeka]

everybody calls him ack ack

[jesseeka]

Fluffy headcanons for a relationship with Ack Ack? ❤️

Did you mean cupcake? this man is so soft and i will die defending him. i really hope you like it and feel free to request other headcanons or fics💕

Taglist: @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @teenmagazines @curraheewestandalone @liebegott @happyveday @vintagelavenderskies @easy-company-tradition @inglourious-imagines

After being called Ack Ack, or captain, for so long, hearing you call him by his given name was like hearing angels sing. He knew from the moment he saw you there was a connection.

He introduced himself as Andy to you, but he would normally tell people his name was Andrew. Only people he knows really well, or his family are allowed to call him Andy. When you call him Andrew there is always a serious tone to your voice because you never call him that.  

Andy’s favourite time to have conversations with you is when you’re doing something else at the same time. He finds it so funny when you’re trying to concentrate on the task and hand and form a coherent sentence.

The appeal of it comes from the random things you blurt out when you can’t thing straight or get distracted. One minute you’re talking about what you plan on making for dinner and the next you blurt out something about a blanket. There is no logical explanation.

While watching you, he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you. He does this to relax himself and once he lets out a big breath, you can feel his shoulders relax behind you.

Being able to feel your skin under his hands does wonders for his stress levels. It’s a little reminder that no matter what he is going through, you’re there for him if and when he is ready to talk about it.

After taking care of everyone else, he found it hard to let his guard down and let you in, but he really likes when you take care of him too. It took him a long time to relax and let you take responsibility for certain things in the relationship because he was so used to doing everything himself

It's the little things he appreciated like you playing with his hair when he takes a nap beside you. Please play with his man’s hair, it looks really soft.

PDA is kept to a minimum when in public, but he is always smiling at you from across the room. Just watching you talking and laughing with ease makes him indescribably happy.

He is such a gentleman, always holding doors open for you and letting you walk through first. When you’re both alone he loves to give your bum a cheeky pat which is followed by his signature smirk.

Shared touches between you are always gentle and soft. His hand is so much bigger than yours and they’re constantly warm no matter the temperature. He loves when you automatically reach for his hand when you’re cold and he feels like he gets to protect you, even if it’s only from the cold.

This man is a complete cupcake when it comes to you and looking after you is his favourite thing to. He makes sure your favourite mug is clean so you can have your morning coffee and you’re stocked up with all your favourite snacks. Anything he can do to make your day better he will do it without you asking.

This man is full of motivation and inspiration. If you’re having an off day and your feeling iffy, he has no problem in hyping you up and he knows exactly how to do it too.

He always reads you like an open book, so he knows whether to be subtle or go all out screaming. Subtle is him softly complementing you and reminding you of how amazing you are, while all out screaming is along the lines of ‘yes my person is amazing, and everyone needs to know’

When you’re trying to work, be it whatever you do, he makes sure you have enough snacks and that you eat regularly. He doesn’t care if you eat while you work once you eat something.

Your relationship is treated as teamwork. If you make dinner, Andy washes up and vice versa. You work really well together and you both know what the other is going to do before they do it

[jesseeka]

𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖞 𝖇𝖊𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖒𝖊 𝖇𝖔𝖇 ⛓️🥀

[jesseeka]

I’m so glad I live in a world where there are cats ♡