#hoosier x reader

[lostloveletters]

And I Lay Right Down in My Favorite Place (Bill "Hoosier" Smith x Reader)

Summary:  The Australian heat has nothing on how you feel when you finally get Hoosier to yourself.

Note: Female reader, but no descriptors are used. Title comes from the song I Wanna Be Your Dog. This is based on the fictionalized characters in the miniseries and not the real individuals. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Light period-typical misogyny. Obviously some historical inaccuracies. Sexually explicit content including oral sex (f. receiving) and some femdom elements. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Your shadow cast abnormally long over Hoosier, his eyes scrunched shut as he slept in the rapidly setting Australian sun, curled up on his cot like a cat on a windowsill. If he had actually moved from that spot in the past few days, you would have felt bad waking him up. Except he hadn’t unless absolutely necessary, and so you attempted to disguise your selfish request as simple altruism.

“Hoosier, c’mon, we’re in Melbourne—civilization! You can’t just sleep through it. At least spend one night out so you don’t regret it.” He was unresponsive. “Please, for me?”

He snickered. “Even if I wanted to—which I don’t—I don’t have a pass.”

“I swiped an extra one. Look, everyone else ran off with some girl, and I have no one to go to bars with me tonight,” you said, stretching the truth a bit. Chuckler promised he’d look out for you in whatever little local dives you ended up in. For the most part, he had, but after a few drinks, he’d get distracted by a local girl, and you’d have to fend off equally drunk suitors without him as reliable backup.

“Fuck, alright,” he grumbled, pushing himself up from his cot, blanket still wrapped securely around his shoulders.

You shoved the dubiously acquired pass into his hand. “I just need to change, and—”

“Change?”

He stood up, the two of you staring each other down in an unspoken stand-off, waiting to see who would fold first.

“I bought a dress.”

“Don’t take too long or I’m going back to sleep.”

You ran to your cot, grabbing a paper shopping bag you’d shoved beneath it. A local boutique’s logo printed on the front, announcing your purchase of a flowing wrap dress that you couldn’t take your eyes off of in the shop. It didn’t take much convincing for you to buy it, and the unwavering confidence you felt while trying it on in the dressing room made a swift return when you ran into one of the locker rooms in the cricket stadium, changing in one of the stalls.

The plunging neckline had especially caught your attention, far from the conservative attire you’d usually wear as a Marine—though there had been strong opinions among some of the men toward your wearing pants, until Hoosier had asked them how the hell you were supposed to trek through the dense jungles in a skirt, which promptly shut most of them up. 

Still, you bought the dress knowing full well it was an impractical, expensive purchase that wouldn’t make it out of Australia with you. The slip that you wore beneath it was a buttery soft satin that you never wanted to take off, nothing short of heavenly against your skin. You didn’t have much in the way of makeup or perfume, so you’d chosen a dress and some heels that could do most of the heavy lifting for you.

Your name echoed through the empty locker room, Hoosier calling out for you as his boots smacked against the tile floor. “Hey, you in here?”

“In the stall!” you shouted back.

The tap ran along with the sound of water splashing. “You sure there’s no one else around to go with you?”

“Leckie’s playing house with some girl from the trolley the other night, Sid’s with his girl Gwen, Chuckler’s god knows where, and Runner’s got a date with the shop assistant at the boutique I bought this from, so no,” you said, securely tying the wrap dress in place. “Look, if it’s that much of a bother, you can stay.” You shuffled out of the stall, your uniform folded and shoved in the shopping bag the dress had been in. 

Hoosier whistled lowly when he saw you, quickly shaking his head. “Not while you’re wearing that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you’re showing about as much tit as the girls in those magazines.”

You straightened your back, giving yourself a once-over in the mirror above the sink. “That’s why I bought it.”

“It’s sure as hell working on me.”

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you turned to him.

He folded his arms over his chest. “What made you think it wouldn’t?”

“You’ve seen me covered in mud and blood—I think I’ve even thrown up on you before.”

He grinned. “Gives you character.”

“So I spent my hard-earned money on this new dress for nothing?”

“Not for nothing. I wouldn't mind seeing how it looks coming off you.”

“Maybe somewhere nicer than a locker room?” you proposed.

“Now you’re gonna make me spend my hard-earned money just because you wanna fuck somewhere fancy?”

“I wanna fuck somewhere with a real bed, and privacy.”

“Sounds like you already have a place in mind.”

“I might," you said, taking his hand in your free one and leading him out of the cricket stadium.

Running down the streets of Melbourne with Hoosier sent a rush through you. Your dress flowing in the cool night breeze, the hem flirting around your thighs, each gust of wind threatening to give a peak of what lay beneath to passersby. For the first time in months, you felt like a woman, anticipation building in your gut as Hoosier kept his hand firmly around yours, bringing you closer to the night you’d been hoping for. The fact that it’d be with him was icing on the cake. Even though you were no longer relentlessly hounded for your answer of which member of H Company you would fuck if you absolutely had to—from day one, you’d pick Hoosier.

He really hadn’t been exaggerating about the dress, because when the two of you ran into Chuckler smoking outside of a bar, at least three whiskeys into his nightcap, he didn’t even recognize you. Instead, he shot a wink your way and congratulated Hoosier for ‘getting some.’ He had shouted something else your way when you and Hoosier were halfway up the street, nearing the hotel you’d seen on your shopping trip.

A tall, swanky building with valets outside, you tried not to gawk at the giant chandelier in the lobby, surely worth more than you’d make in your lifetime. You and Hoosier caught some odd glances from the people milling about, but some went out of their way to thank him. You bristled at the perceived slight until you remembered what you were wearing, your uniform hidden in the shopping bag in your hand.

A well-put together man stood behind the front desk, not bothering to pay either of you any mind until Hoosier cleared his throat.

“Good evening, sir. I’d like to book a room for one night for, uh, Lewis Juergens and guest.” 

You nudged Hoosier with your elbow.

The manager looked you and Hoosier over with his lips pursed, as if he were resisting the urge to sneer. “We don’t tend to allow unmarried couples to share a room.”

You put on a charming smile and the best imitation of an Australian accent you could muster. “Just married. We’re honeymooning while we can. Gotta keep this one in line before I hand him back to the Marines.”

“I see,” he said, neither fully convinced by your story nor concerned enough to argue. “Mr. and Mrs. Lewis Juergens for one night, then?”

“That’s right,” Hoosier said. “Honey, why don’t you wait up for me?”

You kissed him, perhaps a bit more passionately than was acceptable in such an upscale establishment, but the desire in his eyes when you pulled away to wander over to the elevator was worth it.

He grinned as he walked over to you less than a minute later, holding up the room key. “Wait ‘til Chuckler finds out he’s married.”

“To a nice Australian girl to boot,” you said, pushing the elevator button.

“Nice girls don’t kiss like that.”

“Oops.”

When the doors opened, Hoosier told the operator to bring you to the seventh floor. You caught a glimpse of the room number engraved on the key’s tag. As soon as the doors opened, you rushed down the ornate hallway in search of the room. He seemed to take his sweet time walking over, amused by the scowl on your face.

"You know, I think I might've forgotten something downstairs—"

"Hoosier, I swear to god."

He snickered as he unlocked the door, ushering you inside.

You pushed Hoosier against the door when he locked it behind him, kissing him with a ferocity that shocked him for a moment before he came to his senses. The kiss was overtaken by the desperate clashing of teeth and tongue, a long repressed primal urge rearing its ugly head as you pressed yourself against him. Before that night, you’d considered the situation you found yourself in little more than a foolish yet pleasant fantasy, doubting he wanted you as much as you wanted him. His vulgar quips toward you had blended with the others you’d gotten used to, learned to take in stride. They were all talk, anyway. The way his hands kneaded your ass through the flimsy material of your dress proved otherwise.

“How much did you spend on this?” he asked, voice husky with desire.

You threw the shopping bag aside, paying no mind to how it fell over on its side. “You don’t wanna know.”

“Five bucks?”

“Higher.”

“Ten?”

“Higher.”

“Shit, I better make this worth your while, then.”

“You will,” you said, catching his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging on it ever so slightly.

Your hand half-wrapped around his neck, you pressed your thumb against the base of his throat while you sucked and bit on a patch of skin just beneath his collarbone. No one would notice unless they really looked for it, like you would over the next few days, your eyes inevitably drifting to where you staked your claim on him. 

He leaned against the door, breathing heavily while you left your mark on his skin, slightly tanned by days in the relentless tropical sun. Your hand drifted up to caress his cheek, your thumb brushing his lower lip. He took the digit in his mouth, and you gasped when he began sucking on it. 

“You’ve got everyone else fooled, you know that?” you murmured, softly kissing the corner of his lips. “Sleeping all day like you’re above it all, when you’re a bigger slut than the rest of them.” You palmed him through his pants, his hard cock straining against the fabric, earning a muffled moan from him. 

When he reached for your hips, you pulled your thumb from his mouth and grabbed his wrists just as quickly, pinning them on either side of him.

“If you want me, you gotta work for it.”

He groaned. “Jesus, you’re mean.”

“I know, but I think you like that,” you said. “Do you like that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered without hesitation.

You released his wrists from your grasp, kicking off your heels as you walked back to sit on the edge of the bed. “Then show me how much you want me.”

He sank to his knees before you without hesitation. He would have looked almost pious if his hands were clasped together instead of pulling your panties and stockings down to your ankles, his tongue darting out from between his lips as you spread your legs. He’d seen you before, though, not this intimately, but close enough. Privacy was a scarce resource, and so modesty packed its bags along with it. You’d conquered shame on those islands, perhaps the first woman to do so. Maybe that could be included in Lady Marines’ recruiting materials—put the church out of business, be naked and unashamed.

With a frustrated groan, you pulled off the wrap dress, hearing it tear as you were too impatient to untie it properly. The soft, patterned fabric pooled around Hoosier’s knees. He pushed your slip up around your hips, his calloused fingers drifting down between your opened legs. His rough touch electrified you, your legs seizing a bit when he started rubbing your clit with the pads of his fingers, watching intently as your face contorted in pleasure.

His hands gripped your thighs as he ducked his head between your legs, slowly dragging his tongue up your leaking slit until his lips reached your clit, sucking it while he slipped his fingers inside you. Leaning back on the bed, comforter balled up in your hands, your arms strained to support you as he ate you out, lust clouding your reason, your climax just achingly out of reach, like he was doing it on purpose.

“Don’t fucking stop,” you ordered through gritted teeth, your hand buried in his hair, keeping his face pressed against your pussy. His teeth grazed your clit, and your pussy clenched around his fingers when he flicked his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your back arched, pleasure cracking down your spine like a whip as you came with a moan that echoed in your ears. “Hoosier—Bill—oh my god—” His tongue lapped up your wetness as you rode out your orgasm on his face.

He moved back from between your legs, hair unkempt and face flushed, his mouth and chin glistening in the low light.

“I wish I had a camera,” you sighed, affectionately running your fingers through his messy hair. “You look perfect.”

“Yeah?” he asked, almost dazed.

You nodded. “Like a wet dream.”

He moved to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, but you grabbed his wrist before he could.

“Don’t,” you said, a little harsher than you intended. “I wanna see how I taste.”

When he stood up, you took his face in your hands, kissing him deeply, taking in the taste of yourself on his tongue, his lips. The sensation sent an irrational, possessive urge through you, greedy for more of him, as much as he’d give you—and only you. 

“You got a condom?” you asked breathlessly against his mouth.

“If I don’t, I’m gonna kill somebody,” he grumbled, searching his pockets for one. 

Salvation in his front shirt pocket, he held one up triumphantly. 

With shaky hands, you unbuttoned his shirt, frustrated by how much he was wearing compared to you—for once. Usually you were the one overdressed, sneaking glances of envy and admiration whenever he was shirtless. He had never caught you, or at least he never let on that he had. You reveled at finally having your hands on him the way you wanted, the way that’d make you curl your hands into fists, digging your broken fingernails into your palms to distract from how frustratingly out of reach he was on those islands.

Your slip came off over your head much easier than the dress, and soon a pile of discarded clothes was kicked to the wayside as he joined you on the bed. 

You stroked his cock, his hips jerking at your touch. 

“It’s been a while,” he offered as an explanation for how his body reacted. As if he needed to, as if you weren’t on the verge of pouncing on him at that very moment.

“I don’t care. I want you inside me, Hoosier. I wanna feel you when you come.”

He groaned, chewing on his bottom lip. “Oh fuck.”

You kissed him, practically swallowing the groan that emerged from his throat when he plunged his cock inside you, your cunt clenching around him as he filled you. 

He pressed his forehead against yours, his gaze locked on your eyes as you struggled to keep them open with each thrust in your pliant pussy, taking him deeper with each stroke. 

“Fuck—I’m close,” he barely managed to force out, his cock twitching as he neared orgasm.

“I got you, baby,” you whispered, your lips soft against the shell of his ear as his thrusts slowed and became erratic as he bottomed out inside you. 

He gave you a sloppy kiss, taking a few moments to catch his breath before pulling out of you. “Fuck,” he murmured, mostly to himself.

You curled up beneath the covers as he got up to discard the used condom.

“Jesus Christ, they’re gonna think someone tried to decapitate me,” he said from the bathroom.

“Sorry!”

“Don’t be. Maybe I can claim some rare jungle illness and get a few extra days off.”

You scoffed, smiling when he got into bed next to you, pulling you against him. “Yeah, you and every other Marine running around Melbourne.”

“Hotel room was a good call,” he said softly, nuzzling his nose against the crown of your head. “Fuck, I’m gonna be dreaming about this on the next shithole island they dump us on.” He was quiet for a moment. “Never thought that’d get me going, you bossing me around and all.”

“Something about you brought that out,” you said. “I don’t know, I feel like I’d go crazy if another woman touched you.”

“I’ll make sure to warn ‘em.”

You barked out a laugh, hiding your face in the crook of his neck before resting your head on his shoulder. “How about you? Most guys think eating out is degrading.”

“Because they’re fucking idiots.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

The two of you talked well into the night before falling asleep, only to be awoken at ten in the morning by a phone call from the front desk, informing you that if you didn’t check out within the hour, you’d be charged extra.

“Can we put it on Chuckler’s tab?” Hoosier grumbled, reluctantly getting out of bed.

“I wish,” you said, hastily freshening up in the bathroom.

“What’re you gonna do with that dress?” he asked. “Can’t take it with you.”

You shrugged, glancing at the torn, wrinkled garment. “I guess I’ll just leave it here.”

And you did, leaving it behind as you slipped out of the hotel room first. Wearing your uniform, far less comfortable than what you’d been wearing the day before, would inevitably draw unwanted attention to you and Hoosier if you left together, especially if you were seen by any number of fellow Marines who were prone to running their mouths. That, or the same haughty manager could have been behind the front desk again.

By the time Hoosier caught up with you at the cricket stadium, Chuckler was already there, sitting on your cot with you as he told you all about his escapades the night before. His attention quickly shifted to Hoosier.

“Hey, who was that cute broad you were with the other night? The one in the slinky dress?” Chuckler asked as he pulled on his boots. “Was she any good?”

Hoosier glanced at you, a smile tugging on his lips. “She was a real nympho. Tore off her dress and everything.” Your eyes widened when he held up a scrap of fabric clearly ripped from your now discarded dress. Chuckler grabbed for it, but Hoosier kept it just out of reach. “Woulda thought she was in heat or something”

You kicked his boot. 

He snickered. 

Chuckler didn’t notice the silent exchange, instead huffing out, “Man, I gotta get me a girl like that.”

“Gonna have to look somewhere else,” Hoosier said, eyes on you as he pocketed the torn piece of your dress. “This one’s mine.”

[mads-nixon]

You Before Me

Bill 'Hoosier' Smith x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: hiiii! this is my first ever hoosier fic, so please let me know what y'all think!! i've recently become obsessed with jacob pitts lol! this is about the fictional portrayal of the H company boys. i have nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Summary: During the battle for the Peleliu Airfield, (y/n) and Bill are separated after both being injured by a mortar shell.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: injuries, blood, straight angst with fluff

PELELIU AIRFIELD: SEPTEMBER, 1944

Ringing. 

It was all that filled (y/n)’s senses, drowning out the surrounding chaos. She could taste the acrid tang of smoke in the air, making her cough and struggle to catch her breath. Everything seemed hazy and distorted, the world spinning around her. Blinking, she tried to clear her vision and make sense of what was happening. Dust and dirt swirled in the air, making it hard to see beyond a few feet. She lay on her back, helmet long gone, trying to remember what had led to that moment.

They were taking the airfield.

Hoosier was with her and then–BILL!

“Bill,” she croaked weakly, blindly reaching out for him with a shaky hand, finding nothing but dirt and rocks. She rolled onto her side to look for him, but the movement caused white-hot pain to shoot through her body, sending sharp jolts of agony up her left leg. The pain was fierce, radiating from her ankle and calf. Every motion seemed to intensify the pain, making her grit her teeth as she sat up on her elbows, her eyes nervously drifting to her legs. (Y/n)’s eyes widened as she took in the damage. Her left calf was littered with shrapnel, and her ankle was turned at an unnatural angle, both oozing with blood.

She took a nervous gulp, throwing her head back against the rocks of the crater. 

This was not good.

Taking a shuttering breath, she called out again. “Bill, are you there?

Through the ringing, she heard a pained grunt from her left. She recognized the sound instantly, and her heart fell, tears glistening in her eyes.

“Bill!” she cried into the haze, panic gnawing at her as she searched frantically for him.  She prayed the smoke would clear and she’d see him looking back at her, unscathed with his signature lopsided smirk, but answers to prayers aren’t always what we’d like them to be. Through the smoke, she spotted his still form to her left, sprawled out on his stomach, his face etched in pain. Her heart lurched with both relief and fear. When she spotted the growing red stain on his lower thigh, the relief disappeared.

“No, no, no,” (y/n) whispered to herself before raising her voice. “Bill? Can you hear me?”

Summoning every ounce of strength, she rolled over and began to crawl to him, dragging her injured leg behind her. As she forced herself to crawl towards him, her breaths came out in ragged gasps, chest heaving with the effort to overcome the searing torment. The muscles in her leg protested every inch of progress, and she gritted her teeth, trying to muffle the pained sounds that left her lips. (Y/n)’s broken ankle got caught on a particularly sharp rock, and she whimpered involuntarily, a low, guttural sound escaped her as she clutched the rocky ground for support. 

Pushing through the pain, she extended a trembling hand, her fingers brushing against his uniform, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath. He’d managed to pull himself forward, flipping over and propping himself up against the rocky wall of the crater, pained grunts filling the air. His breaths were shallow and ragged, eyes barely open as he fought to stay conscious. 

When he managed to pry them open further, they were clouded with pain and drowsiness, wandering aimlessly for a moment before attempting to find (y/n)’s gaze. He saw her face above him, her lips moving rapidly, but he couldn’t quite understand what she was saying. 

“You’re okay, hon. You’re okay,” (y/n) whispered, painfully sitting up beside him and putting pressure on his wound. His slick blood coated her hands as she pushed with all her remaining strength. As Hoosier lazily looked up at her, his senses slowly came back to him.

“(Y/n),” he mumbled. “I dropped my weapon.”

“It’s a-alright, Bill,” she whimpered, the pain in her ankle and leg flaring, sending waves of dizziness and nausea through her. The pain seemed to meld with the fog of fatigue, weighing down her limbs and blurring her focus. (Y/n)’s eyelids became heavy, as if someone had placed weights on them. She blinked forcefully, attempting to stay alert.

“Shit,” she groaned, her eyes drooping as her strength dissipated, the pressure on his leg lessening. Just as she felt herself slipping away, a familiar voice cut through the chaos.

“Oh, Bill. (Y/n),” Bob called, and seconds later, he was by their side, his eyes taking in the carnage before him. He had arrived just in time to take over the task of applying pressure on Bill’s wound, giving (y/n) a much-needed break. She let out a shuddering breath, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her as she fell against the rocky wall of the crater beside Hoosier. 

“Corpsman!” Leckie screamed. “Corpsman!”

(Y/n) watched through a haze of drowsiness as Bill clenched his eyes and leaned his head back, breathing heavily. She shakily reached out for his hand, intertwining their fingers gently. His once strong hand now felt almost limp and lifeless in her grasp, and she squeezed it in an effort to keep him awake.

“We’re gon’ be alright, ” she strained.

Glancing at her leg, Bob’s eyes widened and he quickly moved one hand off Hoosier’s wound to get a better look at the damage, but she weakly pushed his hand away.

“No, Bob,” she rasped, her voice hoarse and filled with worry. “Bill…Please, help Bill first. He’s h-hurt worse than I am. I’ll be okay, just…take care of him.”

Bill flopped his head to the side to look at her with concern in his half-lidden eyes. “No,” he grunted. “(Y/n/n), no.”

Leckie shook his head, trying to help her again. “Your leg, (y/l/n)!” he exclaimed. “You’re gonna-”

“Bob,” she interrupted, her eyes lowering to Bill’s wound, tears in her eyes. “I know. Help Bill.”

With a frustrated growl, Leckie brought his hand back to Hoosier’s thigh. “Corpsman!” he yelled again. “Hey, everything’s gonna be fine, you two. It ain’t shit. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Bill lifted his head for a moment, lazily licking his lips before peering down at (y/n), his gaze traveling down to her foot and its horrific position. “Darlin’,” he breathed. “Your foot.”

“I’m fine, Bill.”

Bob felt his heart tear seeing the usually spunky couple in such a pitiful state. “It ain’t shit,” he reassured. “You’re both gonna be fine.”

Hoosier’s eyes drifted closed, and (y/n) shared a panicked look with Bob. “Damn it! Corpsman! Stay awake! Both of you.”

She nodded feebly, her grip on Bill’s hand tightening as she fought to stay conscious. Pain and exhaustion weighed heavily on her, but she knew she had to be there for Bill. She struggled to keep her eyes open, blinking against the weariness that threatened to pull her into the darkness. After a minute that crawled by like hours, two corpsmen slid down into the hole. One of them quickly evaluated the situation and dropped down beside Bill, barking orders at Leckie as the other knelt beside (y/n), speaking gently. “Ma’am we’ve gotta get him stabilized. We’re gonna take him first, but we’ll be back for you, I promise.

(Y/n)’s chest tightened at the words, and she nodded weakly.

“Bill?” she heard Bob mutter from beside her. “Bill?”

Her unfocused gaze flew over to his face, watching as he lost his battle against unconsciousness, his eyes fluttering shut, whispering, “Sorry.” (Y/n) felt his grip go limp, and her eyes widened in fear and desperation. She released his hand and shook his shoulder, her voice trembling.

“Bill, no, please,” she pleaded, her words choked with emotion.

“Help me carry him back,” a corpsman stated, roughly looping his arms under Bill’s shoulders and lifting him with the help of the other corpsman. (Y/n)’s eyes never left them as they quickly carried him out of the crater. The second they left her view, she felt a sudden rush of adrenaline leaving her body. The pain from her injuries hit her anew, and every ache and throb seemed to intensify twofold. She groaned, closing her eyes tightly.

Bob turned and put pressure on (y/n)’s trembling thigh. He urged her to breathe, to focus on anything but the pain, but the agony was now all over her body.

“Focus on my voice, (y/n),” Bob implored, his voice shaking. “Hoos would kill me if I let anything happen to ya, so you’ve gotta stay awake for me, sweetheart.”

Spots danced in her vision and her eyelids drooped as she began to drift away into the darkness that was invading. “Stay with me, (y/n),” Bob replied, pushing more of his weight onto her leg. “They’re coming back! Stay awake!”

USS SAMARITAN (AH-10): SEPTEMBER, 1944

It had been a long few days since Bill had woken up groggy from the fog of his pain medications. The medical ship rocked subtly beneath him as he lay in his cot, an itchy blanket covering him. He was going out of his mind looking at nothing but the gray steel of the ship’s interior and hearing the moans and cries of his fellow Marines. 

Since the moment he’d woken up, he’d been asking about (y/n). He asked nurses, other wounded marines, and anyone he could get a hold of. After four days of this, anxiety settled into his stomach, and he decided to search for her himself. He scanned the room for nurses before swinging his legs over the side of the bed, wincing at how it pulled on his wound. The man in the bed beside him was dead asleep, so he snatched his crutches and used his left leg to push himself off the bed. Bill smirked as he slowly started toward the hallway, but his plan came to a screeching halt when he heard a voice behind him.

“Just where do you think you’re going, private?”

He sighed and turned around, coming face to face with one of his nurses, Evelyn, who wore a disapproving expression. 

“Just going to the bathroom,” he lied, nodding toward the door.

“Really?” Evelyn asked, amusement lacing her tone as she pointed to the opposite side of the room. “Because the bathroom’s that way.”

“Fine,” Bill grumbled under his breath. “You caught me. I need to find someone.”

“So what’s the lucky girl’s name?” she asked, helping Bill back into the bed.

“How’d you know I was lookin’ for a woman?” 

She smiled. “The look in your eyes.”

A fond smile formed on his lips as he replied. “Corporal (Y/n) (y/l/n). She’s my best friend.”

“Just a best friend?” Evelyn smirked, peering down at him with a skeptically raised eyebrow. “Sounds like she’s more than that to you, marine.”

“She is,” he chuckled. “I’m lucky to have her.”

After a moment, his expression fell and his eyes drifted to the stark white bandages on his leg. “We both got hit by the same mortar,” he said softly. “I don’t know what happened to her.”

Evelyn placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’ll see what I can find out for you.”

Looking up at her with glossy eyes, Hoosier cleared his throat. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Another day passed, and there was still no word on (y/n) or her condition, and Bill became even more desperate. Later in the day, he saw Evelyn in the corner of his eye and waved her over.

“Ma’am,” Bill called out to her, his voice tight with worry. “Have you found her yet?”

Evelyn smiled gently and shook her head. “Sorry, private. No luck yet,” she sighed. “But I’ll keep asking around.”

He hung his head with a sigh, closing his eyes as he sunk back down onto the bed, bringing up a hand to run it down his face.

“I do have some good news, though,” she announced, getting a wheelchair from the corner. “We’re going on a trip to the top deck, and I think it’ll help you feel better.”

Bill grunted, turning onto his side and facing away from her. “No thanks.”

“Come on, private. Trust me,” Evelyn encouraged, her voice persuasive. 

He hesitated for a moment, then sighed and relented. With a little help, he eased into the wheelchair. As they made their way to the top deck, he couldn’t help but be disinterested, his thoughts consumed by worry for the woman he loved. Once they reached the top deck, Bill was lost in his thoughts, absentmindedly watching the unending sea before him. 

Evelyn pushed his wheelchair to a quiet spot, hoping the openness and fresh air would ease his worries. “It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?” she asked, taking a deep breath.

Bill gave a faint nod but remained lost in his thoughts. As the sun caressed the deck with its warm embrace, he basked in its gentle rays, closing his eyes to fully immerse himself in the comforting warmth. The distant sounds of the ship and the gentle lull of the waves created a calming aura around him, temporarily easing the weight of the world from his shoulders. He thought of the last time he’d felt so relaxed: It had been beside (y/n) as they laid out on the beach in Melbourne, not a care in the world.

The distinct sound of a wheelchair being pushed beside him broke Bill from his memory, and a flicker of annoyance tinged his moment of peace. He wondered who was being wheeled so close. When he opened his eyes, however, annoyance quickly turned to a surge of relief and elation. There, right beside him, was (y/n) in a wheelchair, her head tilted toward him in a peaceful slumber. The second he saw her sleeping form, it was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, the knot in his chest finally loosening. The anxiety and fears that had plagued him for days now seemed to disappear. 

He found himself captivated by the soft curve of her lips and the way they seemed to hold a hint of a smile even in her dreams. They were lips he’d kissed a thousand times, each one bringing back a fond memory. Bill reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, tracing the delicate line of her jaw with his eyes. His heart swelled as he admired her every feature, from the sweep of her lashes to the graceful arc of her eyebrows. Hoosier couldn’t help but glance down at her foot, finding it wrapped in a large cast that reached from her toes to her knee. His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he watched her, completely overwhelmed with emotion.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” he smiled, his hand tenderly cupping her jaw as his thumb gently rubbed against her cheek.

(Y/n)’s unconscious mind seemed to recognize the touch, and she leaned into his hand, a contented sigh escaping her lips. “Five more minutes,” she murmured sleepily. “I’m having a good dream.”

Bill chuckled softly, his gaze soft as he admired her peaceful form. “Well, darlin’, what dream could possibly be better than me?”

As if in response, her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the light as her eyes met his ocean-blue eyes. “Am I still dreaming?” she asked softly, a sparkle of hope lighting up her eyes. 

Hoosier shook his head, his voice filled with reassurance. “No, (y/n/n), you’re not dreamin’. 

“Are you sure?”

“I know how I can prove it to ya,” he grinned.

He leaned over and gently placed a kiss on her lips as undeniable proof that he was truly before her. His hand remained tenderly on her jaw, his touch grounding her spinning mind. As he pulled away, they rested their foreheads against each other. A radiant smile graced her lips as she fully registered her presence, his loving gaze warming her heart. “Bill,” she whispered, feeling his warm breath on her face.

He grinned back at her, his eyes reflecting the same joy and relief she felt in that moment. “Hey there, beautiful. “How’s my favorite girl doin’?

“Better now that you’re here,” she replied, her eyes shining.

Bill pulled back slightly, intertwining their hands before he looked down at her foot, concern etched on his features. “How’s your leg feeling?”

“I should be asking you that,” she scoffed, shaking her head at his tough-guy attitude.

He rolled his eyes, a playful smirk gracing his lips. “Answer the question, woman.”

“It aches. My ankle was broken in three places, so I’ll be in this cast for a while and then crutches for months after that. How are you? You scared me to death, Bill.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted nonchalantly with a shrug.

(Y/n) pointed to his bandaged thigh, a teasing glint in her eyes. “I have eyes, ya know.”

“Piece of shrapnel nicked my fe-female-femorum…whatever that artery is,” Bill remarked, struggling to find the right words.

Breaking out into a laugh, she squeezed his hand. “It’s femoral, hon. You were so close.”

“Whatever it is,” he chuckled. “It wasn’t shit. Just like Leckie said.”

Her smile faltered slightly, and she turned her gaze from his face to the vast ocean before them. “So you remember what happened?”

Bill followed her gaze. “Some of it,” he admitted, his voice dropping. “I remember you tellin’ Bob to help me instead of you…I can’t believe you did that.”

“I’ll always put you before me. Always,” she affirmed, their eyes meeting in a solemn gaze. 

“I feel the same,” he whispered. “But please don’t do that again. For my sanity.”

Hearing sniffles behind them, they craned their heads back, following the sound. Behind them stood Evelyn and (y/n)’s nurse, Jackie, with tears glistening in their eyes.

“Y’all are just too precious,” Evelyn exclaimed, her voice laced with elation as she wiped a tear off her cheek.

(Y/n) glanced at Bill, trying to hold back a laugh at his surprised expression. “You won’t be saying that when he starts to get all grouchy,” she joked, earning a playful scoff from him. “But really, thank you both so much. We really mean it.”

Jackie beamed. “Of course. We’re glad to have helped you two find each other again. Y’all will have a great story to tell your kids someday.”

Bill, though not one to easily show his emotions, found himself touched by their kindness. He cleared his throat, his gratitude evident in his eyes. “Thanks,” he mumbled, a hint of newfound shyness coloring his words. 

“We’ll leave you to it,” Evelyn smiled as she and Jackie walked away to help another patient.

The couple turned back to the front with their hands still intertwined, and neither of them spoke for a moment as they stared out at the vast sea. The soothing sounds of the waves lapping against the ship’s hull filled the air.

“This kind of reminds me of that day at the beach,” she mused, looking over at him with a sly grin.

“Oh absolutely,” he retorted, his signature sarcasm making an appearance. “Except for the part where we’re fully clothed, surrounded by stinking marines, and half blown to hell. So, you know, I’d say it’s just like that day.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and squeezed his hand, bringing it to her lips. “Damn, I love you,” she drawled.

“Good, ‘cause you ain’t ever getting rid of me, darlin’.”

Tag List: @softguarnere @mrsgeorgeluz @flowers-and-fichte @inglourious-imagines @peggyvan @rebeccapearson @hxad-ovxr-hxart @merriell-allesandro-shelton @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @titiglt @stvrkdream @multifandomfanfic @starlordsatellite @blvestxr @iceman-kazansky @bucky32557038ww2

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[turn0nthemoon]

Thanks for the lemonade

Note: I used the idea of meeting Hoosier and Chuckler for the first time as a basis for easing myself into fanfiction writing. It’s meant as an exercise so it’s pretty tame, but read along if you like. :)

Wordcount: 1262

Warning: smoking??

Pairing: Hoosier x Reader

Summary: You’re pouring lemonade at the nurses stand when two marines take your mind off of gloomy thinking with some cheerful chatting.

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The sun was burning your cheeks as you poured cups of fresh lemonade for the row of tired marines lining up at the nurses’ stand. Some were watching you with expressions of confusion, some disbelief, some amusement and some were looking right through you, making you feel as hollow as the gaze with which they beheld you.

You poured as much care and gentleness as possible into every cup while you passed them into dirty hands. Every once in a while you heard croaky voices mutter “thanks or “ma’am” in your general direction, but most marines took the cups silently. You had seen and heard the horrible aftermath of battle in your time as a military nurse, but this was your first time looking into the faces of those still stuck in the nightmare from which some never wake. Feet dragging with the heaviness of knowing that each step taken is a step closer to their doom.

You thought of all the wounds of war you had healed and how only few of them would be as crippling as the one these men already carried. A wound that in the hospitals had been masked to you by the relief of escape.

“Too lovely a day to be frownin’ on isn’t it ma’am?”

The words interrupting your heavy thoughts were spoken by a tall dark-haired man that had just taken a cup of lemonade from your hand. He looked rather too battered to be speaking of lovely days you thought, but the friendly smile that shone on his grimy face suspended your disbelief for a moment.

“oh, I don’t know” you blinked at him, not wanting to disagree and started to pour another cup.

“Not exactly a sight for sore eyes eh?” – a slightly shorter man next to first one joked as you passed him some lemonade. You let an unsure smile graze your face as you studied them both for a hint of whether the comment was an invite for pity or for fun. Despite the appearance of it, you guessed that the second man to speak had fair hair underneath all that dust and muck.

He saw you hesitate and continued to speak;

“I clean up nice believe it or not, but unfortunately for my friend here he always looks sick as a dawg” he said and slapped the tall guy on the shoulder. That got a laugh out of you and you watched the taller guy scoff and roll his eyes, looking amused.

“Lotta ladies beg to differ” he replied smugly; “Ain’t that right Hoosier?”

“Ain’t right at all” the shorter guy retorted and caught your eye as you laughed at their banter.

Your laugh was about the sweetest thing the men had heard in a long time. Especially the one called Hoosier thought so and it made him straighten up a bit. In fact your laugh was just as sweet as you looked - cheeks red from the sun and loose strands of hair tucked behind your ears… Hoosier kept his appreciation to himself and hoped that you might extend the interaction with an answer. You noticed the anticipation.

“Well…” you smiled, deciding to join in on his joke, “the lemonade was supposed to liven you up a bit, but if your friend’s looking no better by tomorrow I’ll get you your money back.” Hoosier let out a chuckle at your reply. Not a full toothy grin but an upwards tug of the corner of his lips that despite its modesty reached his eyes. Bright eyes that bored into yours with what you thought was approval and suddenly hoped was a little more than that.

“Oi!” The taller man exclaimed with a grin as you shifted your eyes to him, “the friend has a name! I’m Chuckler” he said and stretched out a dirty hand towards you, taking no notice of your joke being on his expense.

“Chuckler?” You asked and shook his hand when an officer yelled in your direction.

“You two! Quit bothering the nurse! You’re holding up the line!” Chuckler let go of your hand and eyed the officer with blatant annoyance.

“Are we bothering you Ma’m?” he asked politely.

“Not at all…” You smiled at them. “But I don’t know if the same can be said for him” you looked discretely in the direction of the officer that had yelled, and was now staring intensely at the marines in front of you.

“Guess we better get movin… Thanks for the lemonade” Hoosier said and they both quickly emptied the small cups and put them down. Chuckler started moving away to neutralise the dissatisfaction of the glaring officer. Hoosier made to follow but then leaned back and offered you a handshake.

“‘Don’t believe I gotcher name, miss?” He said. The hand open in front of you was as dirty as the one his friend had offered, with scraped knuckles and dust that had settled in to darken every fine line. You were happy to take it.

“Y/L/N” you told him. You felt a tingle up your spine as his fingers closed around your small soft hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Y/N Y/L/N” you elaborated. His head was angled so his brow shielded his eyes from the sharp sun but you thought they glimmered still.

“Pleasure to meet ya, miss Y/L/N” he said “I’m-”

“Hoosier?” You interrupted and he nodded with an amused expression. You felt the name bear a weight on your tongue as if you had spoken a big important word whose meaning you had yet to discover.

“That’s right” he said still holding your hand. He let go with a slight jolt when Chuckler grabbed onto his shoulders with a tug.

“Officer’s getting real red in the face over there buddy” he said and Hoosier looked over nonchalantly. The officers jaw was tightly clenched, apparently debating what effect repeating himself would have.

“Looks like yer right” Hoosier commented and turned back to you.

“‘Scuse us Ma’am” he said and they left you to your task. You absentmindedly continued the repetitive motion of pouring and handing over cups of lemonade as you followed the two marines with your eyes.

In the tired oncoming of battle-worn men, it lifted your spirit to see good humor among some of them. Chuckler and Hoosier had made their way to a small group of marines who you guessed might be part of their company. Some of them were laughing and a few of them looking extremely tired, but all content in each others presence as they awaited orders on where to move.

Although he had his back turned you could see Hoosier pull a cigarette from his pocket and swiftly pull out a lighter after it. He let the cigarette hang loose from this lips as he lighted it with ease. You thought he moved with a sort of careless elegance, that despite the pitiful state of his uniform and dirty skin made him look quite charming. Then he flicked the lighter closed and as he placed it back in his pocket he swung his head around and looked at you. Lightening went through you as his blue eyes met yours – caught already staring. You thought you saw the hint of a smirk on his lips before you turned your eyes down. You could feel your cheeks flush from something other than the sun.

Though intently focusing on keeping your eyes on what your hands were doing, you eventually gave in to the temptation to steal another glance at Hoosier, but when you looked up, him and his companions had gone.

[inglourious-imagines]

Shirt Incident

William Hoosier Smith x GN!Reader

Requested by: @alienoresimagines - Could you write 105. Is that my shirt? with the love of my life Hoosier Smith and a gender neutral reader if that isn't too much of a bother please? ❤ As always, completely okay not to write it! 💛

Warnings: smoking, war, some f words

Prompt: Is that my shirt?

Summary: It is said among the Marines that Hoosier has a crush on you. You decide to test the theory.

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @teenmagazines @meteora-fc @eugenesmorphine @band-of-brothers-cz @real-fans @not-john-watsons-blog @tealaquinn @ok-roemanov @mrseasycompany @punkgeekchic @wexhappyxfew @rayofshanshine @mavysnavy @easynix @georgeluzwarmhugs @easy-company-tradition @immrsronaldspeirs @snafus-peckuh @curraheewestandalone @warrior-healer @justamadgirlinabox @order-of-river-phoenix @whoahersheybars

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.

.

The weather was slowly beginning to be absolutely unbearable. There probably wasn’t an inch of your body that wasn’t covered in sweat. Your mind was clouded by the thought of the cooling ocean that could provide at least a temporary relief from the never-ending heat. You most probably would be in the water already if you were actually back home in the States but the heavy Thompson on your shoulder was constantly reminding you otherwise, that you were still very much in the middle of the Pacific killing for peace.

Well, that and the constantly annoyed voice of Chuckler who complained about the weather three times minimum every five minutes. At least you suffered in silence.

“No need to point out our miserable conditions anymore, Chuckler,” you finally snapped but your voice had a bit of a playful tone into it, so your friend knew it’s nothing personal. You all were in a crappy mood, feeling horrible.

“Hoosier looked way too comfortable over there,” Chucker grinned at you, “simply had to remind him what a wonderful situation we find ourselves in.”

Hoosier shot him a fake smile in response and then got back to his cigarette. Even he was too tired to actually think of some sarcastic remark to retort with.

You shook your head, laughing. “Maybe you need to remind him some more.”

Runner next to you leaned back in laughter, always enjoying when you teased the poor man from Indiana, Loogootee. Which you did quite often. You couldn’t lie to yourself, you enjoyed teasing Hoosier more than you probably should and from a whole lot different reason than Runner.

Chuckler nodded in anticipation. “Maybe we should take our shirts off, what do you say, Y/N?”

His words took you by surprise – you almost choked on your own cigarette – as he took it to a completely new level.

“God, Juergens,” Leckie joined, his typical smirk lightening up his tired face, “no one wants to see that. Unless Y/N really joins in so then I’ll have something to focus on.”

Your cheeks blushed at Bob’s comment as you just rolled your eyes to appear not so flattered by his words. You knew perfectly well why the boys were being so flirtatious all of a sudden. Leckie about a week ago pointed out to you so convincingly that Hoosier has this enormous crush on you. At first, you began to laugh hysterically, thinking it was one of Bob’s classic jokes but when his face remained serious, you gave him a funny look.

“Hoosier? The Hoosier? On me? Bob, the heat is making you imagine things.”

But he simply just shook his head, his voice perfectly calm and quite convincing. “Y/N, I might be a bit stupid sometimes but I’m not blind. And given the fact that we’re in the middle of this fucking war, I think it’d just be nice to have someone by your side.”

You never heard Robert Leckie sound so serious and sincere before.

“I have you guys,” you tried to discourage him once more from his theory, which was actually more of a fact, but you hadn’t known that yet. He patted your shoulder and with a quick ‘think about it’ he disappeared from your sight, his words still echoing in your head.

That was seven days ago.

Leckie must had made a pact with Runner, or so you thought, because he approached you three days ago at lunch and the conversation was pretty much the same one like you had with Bob. Apparently, there was even a bet in the company on what’s going to happen first: Hooser finally making a move or you actually realizing the real deal.

“The whole fucking company?” you exclaimed once Runner finished justifying his and Bob’s theory.

“Yep!” he grinned, “even the officers.”

“Oh God,” you groaned, your head falling into your hands.

***

Ever since those two encounters, there was almost nothing else on your mind than Hoosier. You were seeing his stupid face everywhere. What had happened to you? A week ago, you were okay, and Hoosier was just a fellow soldier. Now he was Hoosier.

Damn Bob and Runner, you were sure that this change in thinking was their intention all along.

This went on for a couple of days until you just couldn’t bare it anymore, so you decided to give the men what they wanted and finally test the ridiculous theory yourself. You tried to not make it a big deal, you really did, you were trying to convince yourself that it was a mere distraction from the war but none of it slowed down your racing heart or stopped your trembling hands.

***

When the company was finally granted some very much needed relax time and was taken back from the front lines for a couple of days, you decided to take action. It was a ridiculous plan, stupid really, but if there was something you learned from your friends’ relationships before the war, it was wearing the clothes of your other half. It usually worked in 9 cases out of 10.

You stole one of Hoosier’s army shirts that was for whatever reasons his favourite, so you knew he’d be able to recognize it. Sneaking your way around the camp, you reached the destination where the provisional showers were built.

William Hoosier Smith, the game is on.

The company was watching a movie outside that night – a perfect opportunity. You walked out of the showers, finally feeling fresh and clean in weeks. Plus, the comfort of new clothes on your skin, Hoosier’s clothes, was quite something you weren’t able to describe. It almost felt like being born again.

But only this time it was better, your body shook with anticipation, a grin on your face and a slight blush on your cheeks. This was it, no going back now. You thanked the God that your friends chose their seating place far right, so you didn’t have to make your way through the whole goddamn Company, grabbing everyone’s attention.

Sitting down next to Hoosier and casually lighting your cigarette proved like one of the hardest things to do when wearing this man’s clothes. You were both scared and excited at once, dreading the outcome of your little game as well as welcoming it with open arms.

At first, nothing happened, the boys seemed to be too pulled into the movie to pay attention to anything else, your cigarette for nervousness long gone.

Until Hoosier turned his head to you, you felt his eyes looking you up and down, sending you shivers down your spine.

You didn’t know where the sudden courage was coming from, but you leaned dangerously close to him, whispering, “Is there a problem?”

Hoosier swallowed, taking a drag from his cigarette. He didn’t answer right away, instead a smirk slowly appeared on his face.

“Is that my shirt?”

You knew the question was coming, hell you even prepared possible answers, but it was as if all of them vaporized in the air and your mind was left blank.

You turned your whole body to Hoosier, finally realizing the tense atmosphere between you two.

“Is it?” you tried your best to sound as innocent as possible, “sorry, my bad. Do you want it back?”

Hoosier seemed taken back by your words but only for a fraction of a second, his confident and a bit cocky self was back. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

Your cheeks heating up, you moved closer even more and reached for his cigarette that was hanging from his lips. You slowly took it into your fingers, taking a drag and blowing a puff of smoke into the air. Hoosier’s eyes were fixated on your every move, and you knew you succeeded.

“You might want to follow me, Private Smith.”

“Count on it, Ma’am.”

Maybe Leckie was right, maybe having someone by your side was all you needed to make it through the war. You hadn’t known it back then, when Hoosier was following you in the night, you hadn’t known it the day after, or in a week or a month, but ever since the shirt incident Hoosier had always been there, always by your side, and it was only after the war ended, on the ship home, when you finally realized that the someone Leckie was talking about two years ago was William Smith.

[auroralightsthesky]

Would you do HC if your first kiss with Hoosier after putting the boys through months of your flirting from the Pacific?

Would I??!!! Oh honey of course I will!! I'll try my best but one way or another I'll have it served right up (lol)

It seemed like every day the guys would see you and Hoosier flirting with each other

Not just the playful kind of flirting either, alot of it kinda made them wonder "are they? or aren't they?"

But you and Hoosier loved it because it was also a way to keep the guys from giving you any kind of shit whatsoever

But deep down, Hoosier really did love you

Every part of you, the good, the bad, the ugly and everything in between

So one night on Pavuvu, you two had gathered at the canteen with the guys

But after it got a little too crazy, you and Hoosier left and went down to the shoreline

The sun was setting, the waves were crashing and the breeze was blowing

You and Hoosier stood out on the rocks looking out to sea

You stretched out your arms and let the breeze blow through the threads of your clothes

And that's when the two of you shared your first kiss

Oh was it worth it!!

And it was even better than in the movies

Because it was only the two of you in that moment

You thought the kiss would last forever

And in a way it did

And it was a moment the two of you would never forget

I hope this came out ok hon, I know I'm cheesy for doing the Titanic reference but still, all the same, I really hope you love it 🥰🥰🥰🥰

[awaterfalls]

All my reactions watching the pacific was 🤔🤔😲🤔🤔😲😭😭😭😭😭😲👁️👄👁️😲🤔🤔🤔🥹😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[she-wolf09231982]

Bill Hoosier Smith

“There, I said it!”

Summary: It’s a chore getting anything out of Hoosier that isn’t sarcasm or jokes. But when it comes to his favorite medic, he’ll say it.

A/N: One shot, Mature audience, BillHoosierSmithx!FemMedic, WW2, Female Pronouns, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Womanizing Comments, Military and Medical Terminology, Inappropriate Nicknames, HBO The Pacific References, Mentions/Descriptions of Injuries, Weaponry, Smoking. Angst/Conflict, FOREVER FLUFF

*Able Grable = Girl with low morals

*The Ichiki = Japanese Soldiers

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real Marines the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~

August 1942

Ever since you’ve been assigned to H Company, you were accepted by most of the guys. You had an addictive personality and had a whimsical way with your presence. You dished out whatever the guys threw at you, and they loved that you were a bit rough around the edges.

You weren’t afraid to get dirty and break a sweat. You’ve earned your place amongst them when you showed them your worth when bullets started flying. The moment “Medic!” was called, you were running like a bat out of hell to get to them.

In the beginning, you didn’t always get along with Hoosier. The man had it out for you in the worst way the day you arrived to board the carrier to the Pacific. For weeks the guys made such a fuss about you and it annoyed the hell out of him…especially Chuckler. He went on and on about you and Hoosier was over it.

“Goddamn, Lew, if you want her so bad, then go fucking get her or shut the fuck up.” Hoosier barked at him one day.

“Damn, Bill, what’s got you snapping your cap?” Runner asked.

Hoosier glared at him then went back to cleaning his rifle.

“He’s just jealous that I saw her first.” Chuckler teased.

Bill slammed his weapon down, “You know what it is, Lew? It’s that women don’t have a place on the front lines because they’re nothin’ but a distraction.” He snapped.

“Come on, Hoosier, we don’t get to see nothin’ pretty around here. It’s something to look at that isn’t a Jap or Leckie’s face.” Gibson explained.

The guys laughed including Bill.

“Now that I can go along with.” Hoosier agreed.

Just then, you approached the group.

“Hey guys-“ you began.

The guys always lit up when you came around.

“Hey, Y/L/N!” Runner, Leckie and Sid greeted.

“Hiya, doll!” Lew added.

You smile at each of them, but noticed once again Hoosier avoiding eye contact with you. You knew he didn’t like you. You usually made it your daily routine to bust his chops by starting small talk with him to make it awkward for him. The guys found it entertaining when you give him a hard time. Bill, however, couldn’t stand it.

“Hey, Hoosier.” you say sweetly.

He side eyed you with a scoff while he function checked his rifle.

The guys watched intensely with mischievous smiles painted across their faces.

“You’re looking extra rugged this morning.” You dared to continue.

The guys snickered. Hoosier looked around at each of them with vigor, then looked at you.

“You think you’re fucking funny, Y/L/N?”

Your friendly smile softened into a cocky grin.

“They seem to think so.” You returned, gesturing to the rest of the group.

“Yeah, well, they’re only siding with you because you’re a broad. If you weren’t a medic, you’d be useless.” Hoosier jeered.

You furrow your eyebrows at him as you cross your arms, “Oh, is that what you think?”

His mouth curled into an evil smirk, “It’s what I know, lady.”

You feel your anger boiling over.

“Well, your opinion is noted, Smith. Not that your opinion matters.” You retaliate.

He narrowed his eyes at you, then redirected his attention to polishing the barrel of the rifle.

You look at the others, “If you guys need anything, I’ll be at the aid station.”

You turn around and walk off. They waited until you were out of ear shot.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Bill?” Sid asked hitting his shoulder.

“What?” Hoosier replied.

“You know, she’s gonna be the one helping you out there if you get hit.” Leckie pointed out.

Hoosier remained silent. He didn’t give a damn. He just wanted to kill some Japs, and go home.

~~~~~~~

You avoided Hoosier like the plague. You haven’t poked fun at him for a few weeks and whenever your paths crossed while he was waiting in line for chow or he needed medical attention, you looked right through him like he didn’t exist.

“Shit, Bill, if looks could kill-“ Runner had said.

“Yeah, she hasn’t said a word to me in a few weeks. ‘Bout damn time.” Hoosier commended.

Runner rolled his eyes.

“You got so much piss and vinegar in your veins towards her, Hoosier, I don’t get it.”

“We’re all here to do a job. There ain’t no female that’s gonna stop me from doing it,” Bill affirmed, “maybe if ya’ll focused more on the war it would be over already.”

“Yeah, yeah, ok.” Runner humored Bill by agreeing.

~~~~~~~

Lt Corrigan addressed H company one morning about the next mission.

“We’re settin’ up a little less than a mile that way along the perimeter,” he explained pointing in the direction along the road outside their camp, “The Japs decided to go around us to hit the airfield. Leckie, figure out the five Marines for the first watch for two hours at sunset and make sure a medic goes with each shift. So six total, got it?” He finalized then trudged off towards headquarters.

“Aye, sir.” Leckie acknowledged.

Bob looked around at the guys, “Any volunteers?”

No one answered.

“Come on, guys, don’t make me pick.” Leckie pushed.

“Fucking fine, I’ll go.” Hoosier muttered.

“We’ll go.” Sid and Gibson voiced.

“Ok since you’re being good sports, I’ll take the first watch with you guys.” Leckie supported.

“Fuck it, I’m in.” Runner added.

“Good man. Ok, we head out at 1730. It’ll give us enough sunlight to get to the posts before it gets dark. Get your gear together and meet me on the edge of camp at 1725.” Leckie ordered.

Hoosier walked to where he had his weapons and gear before Leckie pulled him aside.

“And won’t you be happy about this.” He said a little too excitedly.

Hoosier looked at him skeptically.

“What?”

“Your favorite little medic is coming with!” Leckie replied with a wide smile.

Bill shook his head, “Fuck you, Bob.” He spat before stomping off.

Leckie chuckled as he gathered his rations for the shift.

~~~~~~~

It was bad enough that Leckie had requested that you be on the first watch that Hoosier was part of, but he also arranged that you and he also shared a fox hole together. You were absolutely fuming sitting there next to him.

The trench was 6 feet long and 3 foot wide, leaving very little personal space between the two of you. Although he could see perfectly over the edge of the foxhole when he stands, you had to place an ammo case in the hole as a stepping stool because the depth of it was a little too deep, and it was an obstacle for you to climb in or out or see the line when you stand.

You almost opted to sit on the wooden case instead of on the ground of the foxhole, but you didn’t want splinters on your butt, so you had to sit relatively close to Hoosier.

Leckie’s face appeared over the edge.

“Cozy?” He mocked.

You both scowl at him.

“Do you need something, Leckie?” You asked exasperated.

“Nah, just checking on everyone.”

“Yeah, just having’ a grand ol’ time with Able Grable over here.” Hoosier uttered.

You look at him with daggers behind your eyes.

“Excuse me!?” You shrill.

Leckie laughed, “Best idea I had all day posting you two together! Have fun, kids.” He said as he disappeared.

Hoosier only shook his head, laughing to himself about his snappy insult towards you.

“You think I’m some bimbo out here lookin’ to get laid do ya?” You propose.

Hoosier didn’t bother looking over at you.

“If the shoe fits.” He simply replied with a leering expression.

“Ooo you pompous pig!” You growl through clenched teeth.

“I’ve been called worse.” He dismissed.

“I fucking believe it!” You shot back turning your back to him.

You’ve never been so disrespected in your life. You always tried to be a good person because of how you were raised. And because he had such an arrogant opinion on where women belonged in this war, he treated you like dirt regardless of how good you were to him or his buddies.

You keep your back to him because your rousing anger caused tears to build in your eyes and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that anything he said affected you. But Hoosier wasn’t an idiot. He knew you were crying. He felt a tinge of guilt in the pit of his stomach, but his pride always got the better of him, so he sat there quietly and tried his best to ignore your silent sobs.

~~~~~~~

The relief crew showed up, and before they could say anything, you hopped out of the foxhole to get away from Hoosier.

Hoosier, Leckie, Sid, Gibson, and Runner walked together as you walked ahead of them alone in the dark.

“Jeez, Bill, what did you do?” Sid accused.

“What the fuck, why does it have to be something I did?” He defended.

“She was fine before the watch.” Runner identified.

“If you’re gonna blame anyone, blame Leckie for posting us together.” Hoosier suggested pointing at Bob.

“Hey, Corrigan said five Marines and a medic. I had to have two people in each trench. It’s just how it worked out.” Leckie clarified shrugging his shoulders.

You heard them bantering behind you, trying to shut them out. You suddenly heard a distant whistling noise, quickly recognizing it was incoming artillery. You turn to the guys in a panic.

“INCOMING!!” You shout back to them.

The shell landed behind them, sending many palm trees to the ground around them. They all dove to the ground to take cover.

“Get those mortars up! Runner! Hoosier! Set up further that way and rain hell on ‘em! Stay where I can see ya!” Leckie ordered motioning towards the area you all just walked away from.

Hoosier and Runner rush back up the road then hastily set up their ‘Goon Guns’ facing where the threat was coming from.

You find a spot behind the pile of fallen trees to take cover, peeking over the top to make sure you can see and hear if the guys needed you. Watching them work out there left you utterly awestruck.

There were obviously more of the Ichiki out there than you could see. Although there were more of them, their aim was terrible. The Japs plotted their targets all around you and the guys, mainly hitting palm trees and rocks. You watch sharply as each shell made its mark.

You tactfully maneuver closer to Runner and Hoosier until you see a streak of enemy gun fire trailing closer and closer towards them. They, too, see the danger approaching and jump start into a sprint towards the tree line.

Runner finds cover behind a pile of gravel while Hoosier runs towards the stack of fallen palms you were hiding behind. A mortar dropped in his path causing him to double backward as he tried shielding his face from the debris.

As the remnants of the explosion clears, you see his silhouette crouched over, rubbing his eyes. You look past him seeing the approaching stream of enemy fire coming straight for him. The fragments of dirt and sand had obscured his vision leaving him unaware of the jeopardy he was in.

“Shit!” You huff as you hurdle over the mound of trees darting towards Hoosier.

A split second before the enemy can make contact with their target, you tackle Hoosier, projecting you both a few feet out of the line of enemy fire onto the jungle floor.

“Ooof!” Hoosier exclaimed when you knocked the air out of him.

The attack continued a few more minutes, then died down to an unexpected silence. You hear rapidly approaching footsteps of your comrades racing towards you and Bill.

Hoosier on his back and you on your stomach with an arm draped across his chest, you feel seeping warmth soaking through your uniform just around your hip and down your thigh.

Thinking you lost bladder control, you look over your shoulder down your left side and see a crimson red stain on your shirt and pants pooling onto the sand beneath you. Hoosier sat up quickly, causing you to wince when your arm slipped off him.

“Fuck, Y/F/N, you’re hit!” Hoosier announced.

“Well no shit, Bill!” You replied annoyed.

Leckie and the rest of them encircled you and Bill.

“Oh, God.” Leckie choked when he saw you were bleeding.

“Get her bag!” Runner told Sid.

As gently as he could, Hoosier flipped you onto your back, untucking your uniform top from your pants on your left side,

“Y/F/N, tell us what to do!” Hoosier said when Sid came back with your medic satchel.

You take a deep, ragged breath, “First see if there’s an exit wound. Prop me up on my right side and see if the bullet went all the way through.”

They did as they were told.

“There’s an exit wound back here, doll!” Leckie confirmed.

“Ok that’s good,” you reassure through a cough, “Get the big gauze from the bag, pack the entry and exit wounds to—absorb the..blood…and then…then-“

Tunnel vision sets in and you start to black out.

“NO! No no no no, stay with us, Y/F/N!” Hoosier bellowed, “Goddamn it, get her wrapped up we gotta get her to the aid station, NOW!”

~~~~~~~

The boys got you back to the aid station just in time. Luckily, a supply drop was made a few days prior to you being wounded, and the nurses were able to get you hooked up to plasma. You remained unconscious for three days.

Hoosier, internationally battling his agonizing guilt for treating you the way he had, visited you everyday while you lay asleep on your cot. On days he wasn’t on patrol or on post, he set up a blanket and pillow on the floor next to you to sleep so he wouldn’t miss you waking up.

While he slept on the ground next to your bed, a whimper emitted from above him disturbing his slumber, alerting him that you were waking up. His eyes snapped open as he swiftly pushed himself up from the floor to kneel next to the side of your bed. With the morning sun illuminating your face, he admired your angelic features as you began to stir.

All he could do was stare, wanting nothing more than to see your beautiful eyes open. Your lashes flutter before your eyelids fully reveal the color of your eyes to him. You look side to side, doing your best to figure out where you were and how you got here.

“Good morning.” Hoosier bid you.

You slowly look over to him.

“Oh. Hoosier.” You reply softly.

You try to sit up and suck in air through your teeth when you feel a sharp pain on your left side.

“What the ffffffuuu-“ you start to say lifting your left arm up to look at your side.

Your mid drift was wrapped in dressings like a mummy. You lightly run your hand over your covered abdomen. You tried to remember the last thing that happened in the field. Hoosier saw you struggling to recollect the events that happened three days before.

“Those Japs got you right above the hip. But it only went through the muscle, Doc said. Nothin’ important was hit. It was a clean shot.” He explained.

“Right.” You whispered staring into space.

Hoosier paused, looking down at his hands folded in front of him on your blanket.

“Why did you do it?” He finally asked.

You looked at him perplexed, “Do what?”

“Why did you save me?” He clarified.

You looked down at your toes under the sheets.

“Because it was my job. I wasn’t about to just let you die.” You rationalized.

“After how much of an asshole I was? After what I said to you in the foxhole before that?”

“Well-“ you started before allowing yourself to briefly slip into your thoughts, “..yeah.”

Hoosier stared at you as confusion screwed up his facial features. His eyebrows drew inward as he started to shake his head at you.

“So, you’re welcome.” You added.

“Ha!” He huffed, “I should be grateful!?” He asked sarcastically.

“Well yeah! I did take a bullet for you! You ungrateful piece of-“

“Hold on, there, pal. I didn’t ask you to do that-“

“-You don’t have to! It’s my fucking job!” You bark back before he could finish.

You grimace from pain from over exertion by raising your voice.

“Just go, Bill. I don’t even know why you’re here.”

“I wanted to make sure you woke up.”

You look down on the floor next to your bed and see his blanket and pillow.

“You slept here?” You asked amused.

He nodded. The pieces started to come together in your head.

“Why don’t you just admit you care?” You prompted.

“Fucking what??” He fired back, slightly embarrassed.

“You heard me.” You retorted.

“You’re a dizzy dame, you know that?” He grumbled.

“Whatever, Hoosier, just leave. I can’t stand to hear your voice anymore.” You conclude as you shift to your right side to once again face your back to him.

Bill was bewildered. He leaned back on his heels not knowing what to do next.

“Just go.” You repeat, knowing he was going to try to push the conversation.

He stood, hovered over you for a few seconds then start to slowly back away. He turned on his heel to walk away, but his intrusive feelings stopped him in his tracks, and he abruptly returned to your bedside.

“Ok, so you want to hear it?” He blurted out.

Startled, you return to your back placing your head upon the pillow awaiting his speech.

“I care! Ok?? There, I said it!” He confessed with his arms raised then slapping them down to his sides before he continued,

“As a matter of fact, you’ve had me fucked up for weeks, that’s how much I care. When you stopped sassing me after you got mad at me, I thought I’d be relieved, but I wasn’t! It killed me slowly inside when you refused to look at me or even acknowledge my presence! I couldn’t sleep because everytime I closed my eyes, I saw your face. I couldn’t concentrate on patrol because I constantly wondered if you’d be ok without me around!”

You gaped at him, completely baffled by his outburst of affection for you.

“I got it so bad for you, I don’t know what the fuck to do anymore.” He professed calmly after taking a breath. He looked down at his boots.

You close your mouth and also look down at his boots.

“I’m gonna go. The guys will wanna know you’re ok.” He muttered as he turned to leave.

“Um, Bill?” You call after him gingerly.

He stopped right at the threshold of the doorway to look at you. You wave him over.

He hesitated at first but came back to you. You began to move your legs off the bed to sit on the side.

“What the fuck are you doing?? You shouldn’t be-“ Hoosier tried to reprimand.

“-Bill, shut up, and sit with me.” You directed patting the surface of your cot next to you.

He begrudgingly sat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

You swallowed hard, unsure you could speak after what he just told you. You look over to him and catch him nervously side eyeing you, waiting for you to say something. The ends of your mouth curve into a faint smile.

“Bill?”

“Hm.”

“Look at me.”

He reluctantly meets your gaze.

“Did you mean everything you said?”

His eyes widened, “Every word.” He purred.

You beamed at him and before you could stop yourself, you pulled him by his shirt catching his lips with yours. He cupped the side of your face as he tilted his head to the side to deepen the kiss.

He snaked a hand around your side,

“Ah-ah-ah ow!” You pull back in pain when his hand touched the tender part of your wound.

You grab his hand gently and pull it away from your side.

“Oh shit! I’m so fucking sorry!” He said alarmed, “Are you ok?? Did I hurt you bad??”

“It’s ok, Bill. It was the heat of the moment. It was worth it.” You justify with a wink.

His look of concern melted into admiration.

He tucked a stray strand of hair from across your forehead to behind your ear, then placed his palm against your cheek. You lean into his touch, placing your hand over his. He rested his forehead against yours.

“Will you stay with me again?” You implored.

His smile widened, “Of course.”

“You can sleep up here with me.”

Hoosier laughed, “We ain’t gonna fit up here together, sweetheart.”

“Then I’ll come to the floor with you.” You insisted.

Hoosier shook his head, “How about I pull another cot over here and we push ‘em together?”

“See? You’re smart and pretty.” You teased with a wink.

He kissed you delicately, his mouth forming into a smile against your lips.

~~~~~~~

Just for you @awaterfalls Let me know if you like it! ❤️

[eugenesmorphine]

Could you use prompt 52. “Don’t look at me like that.” And a foxhole kiss for Bill Hoosier Smith of the Pacific?

Sky Full Of Stars // Bill "Hoosier" Smith Imagine

AN: Long time since writing. I have definitely missed it. I might be a bit rusty but I hope ya'll enjoy. And I used to have a taglist, but I honestly lost track. So just comment if I should make a post for people to comment on, making a new taglist!

Word Count: 1,711

Y/N sat in the foxhole, staring up at the stars that remained in the sky above. Her mind was mostly blank at that moment. It was a rough day for all of the Marines. A lot of loss, a lot of hunger, and a lot of lost morale. It was war after all. But, Y/N couldn’t help but just stare at the sky and think of nothing. She would rather think of nothing than think about how much she was truly hating life at this moment. Hating how hungry she was. Hating how tired she was. Hating how sweaty, unclean, and hating the stretch that her nearly rotten uniform stunk of after days to months of wearing it with no opportunity to shower. So nothing was peaceful at the moment. The silence, well more like the absent sound of gunfire, bombs, or screaming, was peaceful.

The thought of nothing was quickly interrupted but a thud of boots hitting the dirt of the female’s foxhole. Blinking, snapping out of her quiet glance, her head snapped over to the sound of the thud. Quickly reaching and grabbing her rifle just out of spite.

“Hey! Easy now, L/N. It’s just me,” rang the voice. Once Y/N heard the voice, and her eyes adjusted to the Marine’s face whilst in the dark, the female Marine relaxed. It was just Mr. Bill Hoosier Smith, a close friend of hers within the company. The breath she held was now exhaled as she slowly released her tightened grip on her firearm. “See, that’s more like it,” the male spoke as he gently sat down across from her. Letting out a heavy sigh as his knees popped whilst he sat. Y/N just sat quietly in response, kind of just staring at Bill.

Bill eyed her closely. Well as well as he could in the near pitch black night. Y/N’s silence was something new that came over the female Marine. A once bubbly woman, who always had quick responses for every snarky remark, question, or sarcastic statement ever said to her. Always willing to share a cigarette with her group of friends and always willing to speak up or talk into late hours of the night. Now it was quiet, and closed off. He didn’t blame her, but was still a little surprised at the sudden change in character. Of course he, and a few others had questioned Y/N before. But was met with it being shrugged off her shoulders and no true answers. But Bill, being the man he was, wasn’t taking no for an answer this time. 

“Alright, I’m sick of this,” Bill started, after about five minutes of complete silence. While he was waiting for his female counterpart to say something. Anything at all. But nothing to his wishes. Y/N just looked at him, her face not changing at all. A blank, closed off stare. It was like Bill was looking at a stranger. 

“Sick of what?” She debuted. Not a change in face still. No raising eyebrows. Not even a hint of attitude. Just a straight, monotone voice. That grinded Bill’s gears. Her eyebrows knitted together. He wasn’t mad at her. Not at all. He could think of a billion reasons of why she was starting to act the way she was. For christ sakes they were in the middle of World War II! But that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried. And Bill Hoosier never showed himself worrying. 

“Seriously? Y/N, you have single handedly sectioned yourself away from our friends and I. And you haven’t even noticed. Or maybe you have,” Bill paused in his words. Hoping Y/N would say something. But she didn’t. Her eyes shifted. They became glossy for a moment he swore he saw. But she quickly blinked and turned her head away for a moment before turning her head back over to Hoosier. This time her eyes showed more frustration, more emotion. But yet, nothing left her mouth. No explanation, not even any questions. And that grinded Bill’s gears even more. “Don’t look at me like that!” he whisper-shouted. Careful not to alert any other Marines resting in other foxholes. 

Y/N’s eyes now definitely softened to the tone change. Her eyes become glossy once more. Now Bill was now frustrated, and highly confused. And that’s when Y/N’s eyes began to pour out tears. And a few stifled sobs left her lips.

To be truthful, Y/N had been slowly pulling herself away from everyone. Partially she herself noticed her actions, though partially she didn’t. More so, didn’t recognize how hard she actually was doing it. And now, all her emotions were coming up to the surface. Everything she had tried so hard to push down and away, was spilling over like a boiling pot. 

“I'm sorry,” was all that spilled out of her lips. Bill sat shocked as he watched the female’s tears quietly slide down her mud caked cheeks. Getting onto his knees and shuffling to her side of the foxhole, he placed a caring and comforting hand to her shoulder. Y/N leaned into his touch. “I just-” she started and then she stopped. Trying to contain her heavy emotions and get her thoughts in order before she tried to speak.

In her world, in her mind, she believed if she had closed herself off from anyone, it would protect her own well being. Y/N had seen so much loss in her service on the Japanese islands, so many men dying in such horrific ways. Watching friends be shot, blown up, or both. Seeing so much death, destruction, and sadness. She couldn't bear the sight, or even the idea, of her closest friends falling victim to this war. Especially Bill Hoosier Smith. Who she thought more than just a close friend, a fondness of feelings had grown whilst their time spent together. Foxholes shared, ducking for cover with each other, and one night in Australia that the pair shared that stayed between them and only them. Never to be spoken about, but the thought remained in both their minds ever since. But, Y/N thought that if she just separated herself from the group, especially from Bill; that if anything was to happen to any one of them, it wouldn’t cloud her mind. That it wouldn’t take over her wellbeing so bad that she couldn’t bear to see the end of war. That plan seemed great in the beginning. Until she realized that the isolation made her feel a billion times worse. It made her feel alone and scared. But she thought she was already far too far into her plan already to back out of it now.

“Look, you know I’m not one for all that emotional shit,” Bill paused. Turning his head to the side momentarily to try to process his words properly. Not only was he not good with anything with emotions; he also wasn’t the best with women either. “Just talk to me about it, or don’t- well do whatever you want to do. But stop kicking us, especially me, to the side. We miss you damn it,” Bill took another pause. Y/N finally looked up at him, stifling her quiet cries for just a moment. Taking a deep breath and locking eyes with the female Marine. “I fucking miss you, god damn it.”

It didn’t take Y/N a second thought before she grasped the sides of her dear friend’s face and planted her lips onto his. Bill’s eyes widened, but he quickly grabbed the side of her face as well. Gently squeezing it, as her messy hair stuck between his hands. 

Pulling away quickly Y/N looked at him, a few more tears rolling down her face. “I haven’t stopped missing you since that night we were in Australia,” she finally spilled. Her breathing became a bit more labored, and Bill just sat there staring at her. Still in a slight feeling of shock. “We brushed it off like it was nothing! And ever since then, and ever since things really started getting bad here. With all this death and dying happening all around us,” Y/N stopped to take a breath. Wiping a few stray tears that leaked from her eyes. “The thought of you had been clouding my judgment, making me make mistakes on the field. Which isn’t your fault, but I thought if I had just distanced myself and not thought of anything to do with you; my mind would clear up,” Glancing down at her hands and sucking in her bottom lip. “But it didn’t. I just couldn’t stop thinking about how much I missed you. And it was distracting me even more,” Placing her face in her hands and shaking her head. “God this is so embarrassing,” she muttered through her hands.

Bill was now a little shocked by the confession. Of course, he felt the same way. He was just some idiot Marine that didn’t know how to express his feelings in the slightest way. He thought if he just didn’t talk about it, the nagging thought would just go away. But clearly, that didn’t work for either of them. So now here they were, both sitting in silence. Bill just sat trying to figure out what he should say next.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Bill started, Y/N peaked up through her hands. Scratching the back of his head for a moment, with a soft sigh. “All I’ve thought about for the past few months has been how bad I wished we were back in Australia,” taking another deep breath. Pausing just for a second longer. “And I wished it was just you and me back home in Indiana. Out of all this mess,” he stated. Scooting himself to sit besides her. Resting his elbows on his knees and staring up at the black sky full of stars.

Y/N sat up and rested her head on his shoulder. “We can do that. After all this,” she whispered. Now also looking up at the stars. Bill looked back down at the woman and a small smile formed on his lips. 

“Alright then, Corporal L/N. You got yourself a deal.”

[imaginesbymk]

— THE PACIFIC PREFERENCE

WHEN THEY FIND OUT YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON THEM

Characters: Eugene Sledge, Snafu Shelton, Bob Leckie, Sidney Phillips, Hoosier Smith, Hillbilly Jones + Captain “Ack-Ack” Haldane

Tags: —

A/N: *sighs* men. let me know if you guys want a part 2 with other characters from the pacific (e.g. john basilone, burgin, jay de l’eau, bill leyden, runner, chuckler etc)!!! pls enjoy and leave a like/reblog/feedback <33 ^.^ // [ko-fi] [commissions] / this was inspired by my love @littlemissvincentvega​ from this post <3

EUGENE SLEDGE “SLEDGEHAMMER” —

He’s flustered, but he doesn’t do anything about it. Eugene’s frail and bookish, so he’s too shy to pursue you. 

Whenever you walk past him, he has to get a good look of you, maybe just a crumb of your face, before keeping his head down.

Sid would tease him and never let it go.

“Give me a break, you ol’ greaser—”

“Hey, I’m just sayin’. The missus needs a friend!”

and Snafu would just make remarks about you, much to Eugene’s annoyance and a sense of motivation to make a move before someone else does. 

Eugene is confident that he would get to ask you out some day, because he was raised to be kind and a gentleman. Time will tell.

MERRIELL “SNAFU” SHELTON —

Learning about your crush on him boosts his ego and is way too cocky about it.

“What did I tell ya? Getting to the likes of Y/N is like discovering a goldmine. I’m gonna reel them in.”

Snafu obviously bothers you during the day by flirting with you, trying to get your attention because he likes getting attention.

He doesn’t leave pleasant remarks at first, but he goes straight down to business. 

“So, doll. Dinner? Movie? Picnic under the stars? How ‘bout I take you to the back of the train and you can show me your caboose? ;)”

Snafu will eventually learn to be more respectful. But at least he’s polite when he tries to talk and hang out with you more.

ROBERT “BOB” LECKIE —

This man is charming. He managed to win over Stella’s family over dinner, so he could do the same with you.

He won’t stop thinking about you. But he’ll get a bit insecure and overthink about other irrelevant things. 

“I wonder what you don’t like about me?”

His friends from How Company make fun of him, reading out loud the letters you wrote to him. 

He shows up to your house unexpectedly, all fresh and clean, in uniform, and he asks you out for dinner. 

Deep down, he’s nervous af - he’s overthinking if it doesn’t work out if you two ever start dating.

When he takes you out you can tell he’s a nervous wreck and he doesn’t know where else to go from there, but you assure him he’s doing fine.

SIDNEY “SID” PHILLIPS —

Sid is already getting along with you, so nothing really changes when he finds out you have a crush on him. If anything, it brings the two of you closer.

He likes to talk to you about anything, and he’ll eventually bring up taking you out for dinner or a picnic under the stars. 

Sid will tell you all about Eugene, life in Mobile, baseball, the rotting coconuts in Pavuvu, anything to keep you around. 

“Here, y/n. How about I drop you home? I can squeeze you in on my bike!”

He’s surprised that he’s not as nervous when you two become more than friends.

Sid realizes he’s falling for you hard and it’s gonna kill him once he’s sent off to fight again.

BILL “HOOSIER” SMITH —

This cocky little shit

When Hoosier confronts you about it, he has a big smirk on his face.

“A lil’ bird told me you got your eyes on me.” (The lil’ bird in question was Chuckler.......)

He wastes NO time asking you out. And of course, you accept. 

If you smoke, he offers you a cigarette from his pack. 

Hoosier is a goofball and he never fails to make you laugh when you two are bonding together. 

He’ll stuff cigarettes up his nostrils and once he finally takes you out, let’s say at a fancy restaurant, he’ll stuff the chopsticks up his nostrils. Anything to hear that laugh of yours.

1ST LT. EDDIE “HILLBILLY” JONES —

He’s flattered, all right.

Even from the dungarees and dirt, he’s known for having a clean, fresh and handsome appearance, according to Sledge’s book. 

Hillbilly’s a gentleman. If he were to take you out sometime, he’d make you feel like there’s no other person in his life but you.

Ack-Ack pushes him to make a move. He assures him that it wouldn’t hurt to leave some room for a little bit of bonding. 

“I know I’m serious when I need to be serious, but I’m a helpless disciple saved by Christ when I found out about you.”

So of course, he’s gonna come in with his guitar and play you a song to win you over.

CAPTAIN ANDREW “ACK-ACK” HALDANE —

Of course, of all people, you develop feelings for the skipper. 

Since he’s a good leader who pulls everyone together during the war, you could understand why you like him. He’s also a very sweet guy.

The thing is, he already knows. You’re too shy to even confess your feelings to him in person or in letters, anonymously or not. In fact, no one even told the skipper about it and nobody needed to. He just knows. A good captain is always observant.

You two are alone for a moment, and his casual, calm and friendly tone manages to help you feel more comfortable and less nervous.

He gives you one of the blankets his dad made for everyone. He wraps it around you at night when you’re feeling cold or afraid.

[venus-haze]

Secret Identity!Homelander x Reader Headcanons

Note: Gender neutral but mildly fem-coded reader, and no descriptors are used. This is inspired by the throwaway line from season 1 where Homelander mentions having a secret identity, but not keeping it for long, so I imagine it’d have been in the 2000s when he was in his 20s. My brain really latched onto the idea, and this is the result. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Warnings: Voyeurism, relationship under false pretenses, obsessive and disturbing behavior. Do not interact if you're under 18.

• Your new neighbor moves into the apartment next door seemingly overnight, but luckily you have a box of brownie mix and some powdered sugar tucked away in your cupboard and decide to make some as a ‘welcome to the building’ gesture

• His name is John, and he apologizes in advance if he wakes you up with his coming and going since he works odd, inconsistent hours as a crime reporter for a small, independent newspaper

• You notice the Indiana University logo embroidered on his sweatshirt and cheerfully say, “Hey, you’re a Hoosier! I’m sure you’re already working on your March Madness bracket.” He nods along as if he understands what the fuck you’re talking about. The two of you continue small talk until you make your leave back to your place. He goes to his computer, groaning at his choice of Indiana as his home state when he doesn’t know anything about basketball, let alone March Madness and brackets

• Over the next week or so, he realizes just how unprepared he is for living on his own, but luck’s on his side, because he hardly has to worry about doing much cooking or cleaning himself when you’re constantly inviting him over for dinner and offering to bring his clothes over to the laundromat with yours since you “know he’s so busy with work”

• Sometimes he has trouble keeping his backstory straight, though he is at least able to bullshit his way through your questions about college and basketball. That doesn’t faze you at first, as he keeps you enraptured with his inside scoop on crime in the city. You’re none the wiser as to how he knows the intimate details of some of the cases, under the impression that he’s just a great reporter

• He keeps tabs on you from afar, Homelander doing quick fly-bys of the area where you work just to make sure everything’s okay. He was raised to be a hero, after all. When you’re alone in your apartment, however, he has no shame in looking through your walls and listening in on what you’re up to. He knows everything about you, the type of music you listen to, the TV shows you watch, the food you go for when you wake up for a midnight snack, that you call your best friend every Thursday night at nine, no detail is too minute for him

• One evening, he decides to take a closer look at your place while you’re in the shower, until he looks through the bathroom wall and feels his mouth go dry at the sight of you. He slips his hand down his pants, and, well, what you don’t know won’t hurt you. It becomes a habit, his guilty pleasure of getting himself off whenever you’re naked in your apartment

• To you, though, he’s still your hot neighbor-friend John, who your coworkers have been pestering you to make a move on, telling you that it sounds like he’s straight from a Hallmark movie. You’re reluctant, but you start to consider something with John when you mention wanting to get rid of some of your older, worn-out furniture and buy new stuff and lament having to pay a company to move. He volunteers to help you during the weekend

• It’s almost funny how he pretends to struggle to move the furniture when he could rearrange your entire apartment without breaking a sweat. He seems to be a good actor, though, because he notices your forehead creased with worry as you watch him move a couch himself. He likes your eyes on him for a change, and though he flexes his muscles every chance he gets, the concern awakens something in him. It’s nothing less than calculated when he “accidentally” drops the couch, pretending to hurt his arm in the process

• You’re frantic as you rush to his side to inspect the damage. Of course there’s no bruising, a truck would have to land on him for that to happen. Still, you gingerly touch his arm and he pretends to hiss in pain. You disappear into the kitchen, only to return with a bag of frozen vegetables in your hand and guilt etched across your features

• “John, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” you ask, brushing his hair from his face, and it takes everything in him not to lean into your touch as he assures you he’ll be fine. The furniture moving project is over for the night, and you order a pizza and let him pick a movie to watch. Your movie collection is almost foreign to him, having been raised on a carefully curated selection of propaganda and clean American classics. He picks Dirty Dancing on a whim, and it proves to be a good choice as you gush over how much you love the movie

• For the first time in his life, he indulges in greasy junk food and cheesy movies, feeling that pang in his heart again as he watches the romance unfold on screen, the one weakness he could never quite get over, loneliness. He notices how as the movie progresses, you end up curled up against him. He furrows his eyebrows, wondering to himself if it’s actually a date all along, and from the way you keep glancing at his lips, only to bashfully look away when he catches you staring confirms that

• He can hear your erratic heartbeat and decides to just go for it, stealing a kiss from you in the middle of the movie. From then on, you’re dating, and suddenly this persona of his becomes far more complicated than he anticipated. You make him happier than he’s ever been in his life. He wants to keep you incredibly close, both of your respective free time consumed by each other, even while he’s Homelander, unbeknownst to you

• John may as well be your dream boyfriend in the beginning of your relationship, attentive and romantic, bringing you to a nearby park on your first official date for a picnic and to try the famous Dirty Dancing lift scene. “Let’s at least try!” he insists. “I’ll catch you.” Despite your hesitations since he’d hurt his arm moving your furniture just a few days ago, he catches you with an almost unbelievable ease on the first try, to your delight. “I’ve always wanted to do that!” you laugh as he sets you down, pulling him in for a kiss

• He buys you elaborate floral bouquets and increasingly expensive gifts, to the point where you wonder how the hell he has that kind of money as a reporter unless he gets paid off by the same criminals he’s supposed to be reporting on. Sometimes he’s troublingly jealous or says things that unsettle you, but you assume it’s because of the line of work he’s in, being exposed to the worst of people. Besides, whenever you get even the slightest bit nervous by his words or actions, he seems to know just when to swoop in and calm you down

• Definitely has no concept of personal space or normal sleep schedules. You’re the first non-Vought affiliated person he’s ever had any kind of relationship with. It’s intense and things move pretty fast, like "I love you on the third date" fast. He idealizes you a lot. Emotionally you’re stretched thin by having to fill the role of lover, parent, best friend, confidant silly rabbit

• Date nights at your place are comforting and domestic, but going out is always an adventure with him. His lack of knowledge of generally getting around New York is downright strange since he reports on crimes all over the city. Not to mention, people do double-takes when they see him, as if they recognize him from somewhere but then figure otherwise. It happens way too often to be a coincidence, though

• Sex with John can also be unpredictable, passionate and loving to intense and almost painful. He’s into some weird stuff and doesn’t have the best etiquette when it comes to his kinks. Not to mention his stamina is almost inhuman, and when you comment as much after he fucks you the fourth time in under two hours, his response is strange, to say the least. You chalk it up to years of sexual repression that he maybe didn't get out during his college years

• Still, he supports and adores you, so you can deal with the frustration and emotional exhaustion when he knocks on your door at eleven at night, letting out a dramatic sigh as he flops on your couch and you take the cue to ask him how his day was. You know there’s something he’s keeping from you, but you decide not to push it. He’s just as interested in your everyday life, hell, he wants you to bother him with the mundane stuff. That’s what boyfriends are for, anyway. You have no idea of what his true identity is, yet you still love him 

• It can’t last forever, though, because you work late one evening, so he decides to check up on you, just to be safe. The scene he descends on is almost too perfect, the type of scenario he’d seen played out in the Vought-branded Payback cartoons he watched growing up. Still, seeing the man so much as pointing the knife in your direction as he demands you hand over your money and valuables almost makes Homelander lose control

• He lands in between you and the man, who takes a nervous step back. “Not so brave now, huh, buddy?” Homelander scoffs, grabbing the man’s wrist and snapping it, the knife falling to the ground as he screams in pain, clutching his broken wrist

• The situation becomes even more nightmarish as you watch America’s fresh-faced hero push your attempted assailant onto his knees, a cruel gleam in his eyes and sneer on his lips as he grabs the man’s head and twists. You can’t bare to watch, gagging when you hear a distinct snap followed by the crunching of bones

• Homelander turns to you, taking you into his arms for what’s supposed to be a comforting embrace, “It’s alright now. You’re safe with me, babe” 

• Your brain pretty much short circuits as you realize your boyfriend John is actually the most powerful superhero who ever lived, and you just witnessed him break a man’s neck like it was a toothpick

• Naturally, you pass out, right into his blood-covered hands. He presses a kiss to your forehead and takes off for Vought Tower. No need to pretend anymore, right?

[shoalweedhence]

You were out my League

Warnings: Reader with self-confidence issues

Pairing: Eddie Munson x GN Reader

Content Tag: Hurt/Comfort & Fluff

Word Count: 1543

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

Just as you turn the page of the book lying in your lap, you feel the covers beneath you shift slightly. Glancing away from the page, you watch as Eddie, eyes closed and fully immersed in his own world, bobs his head to the music you can faintly hear as it filters through his headphones. Your eyes lower down to his fidgeting hand, fingers splayed on the bed -his bed- as they tap along to the melody. The rings adorning his knuckles glint in the afternoon sunlight streaming through his open window. The warm air caresses your face, guiding you like a soft hand tilting your chin back up. You look at your boyfriend’s concentrated features, his eyebrows knitting, the edge of his nose pinching, the corners of his mouth moving almost imperceptibly in a downward motion.

You could lose yourself for hours at the sight of him -actually, you already had, many times before, and did not plan on stopping anytime soon, partly because you enjoyed looking at him very much, and partly because you thought that, maybe, if you looked at him just long enough, the answer to a seemingly life-long question you had would finally be answered.

Because, seriously, how *had* you managed to go out with him? 

You had been told many times that you should not question it. ‘If he’s happy with you and you’re happy with him, don’t overthink it’ your friends of the Hellfire Club had been quick to reassure you, both wanting you to be happy as well as rooting for their leader to finally have some more positives in his life. 

You wanted to not overthink, of course, and you did your best to not let your mind wander whenever Eddie did something kind for you; that one time he agreed to give you a lift back home because your car was getting fixed, the way he would hold your hands -whenever the Hoosier weather decided to cool for two days in the year- and bring them up to his face, blowing a warm breath on them, the way he would bring you food to share and a movie to watch when things were tough, the way he was patient and considerate, but just persistent enough to have you explain what your limits were in this relationship… he would just drop anything he was doing in a heartbeat if it was for you. Had you ever done anything like that for him?

Ultimately, though, the voice at the back of your head would just not stop nagging you, and you learned to live with this constant headache.

You jumped a little when you felt something warm touch your hand. You looked down hastily, noticing a ringed hand covering yours before your eyes flitted back up towards Eddie’s.

“What is it?” He asked, taking off his headphones with his free hand.

“What do you mean?” You answered after a pause, your throat feeling stuffy, as if it was full of cotton, since you had not talked for a while.

“You were staring,” he said, and as your eyes averted his from embarrassment. “I don’t mind, it’s just,” he added quickly, shifting his position on the bed so he was facing you, both of his hands playing with yours, “sometimes you get that look in your eyes, and it seems like you’re not having happy thoughts…” 

Of course he had noticed. One more reason to get him a trophy for best boyfriend on the planet, you thought.

But despite how elated your heart felt, singing his praises for how well he was able to read you, now, you also felt quite vulnerable. He was your partner, and a wonderful one at that, and you knew you could trust him -seriously, you could not imagine yourself with someone you did not fully trust, and Eddie met that criteria with remarkable skill. 

Still, you wondered if he might take it badly. After all, if you told him you did not feel you deserved his love, did that imply that you thought he might expect something from you which you were not aware of? Did you think he was manipulating you? Were you the one leading him on, hiding what you were really thinking? Did you even trust that anyone could love you?

“You don’t have to tell me,” Eddie said when he saw you spiralling down into your thoughts, “but I want to be here for you, and I will listen if there’s anything you want to tell me.”

The sound of his voice, deep and slightly gravely as he kept it low with a confidential tone, brought you back to reality. The feeling of his calloused fingertips tracing abstract patterns on the back of your palm now registering through your unfocused senses. As you looked back up at him, meeting his curious and concerned eyes you felt the shackles of your heart slacken.

“I just…” You trailed off, searching his soulful eyes for a hint of irritation, but instead finding bucket loads of compassion, “you are so out of my league.”

You were expecting a laugh, and he did smile a bit, but instead, he tilted his head to the side.

“Why do you think that?”

You inhaled, feeling the contents of the inside of your heart make their way up your throat, and as soon as you opened your mouth, you felt any hope of restraint dissolve.

“Well, you’re incredible, in every possible way. You’re strong, impossibly kind, extremely skilled at anything you set your mind to, you are so panoptically passionate, you’re funny, you’re unfathomably dependable and you never let your friends down, you’re goofy, and I mean this with all the love in my heart, you can sense when people need cheering up and you just cheer them up by, I don’t know, some kind of Eddie magic,” you gestured with your free hand as if you held a wand, earning a chuckle from Eddie, “you’re just so amazing, I don’t think I deserve-”

You stopped yourself before the sentence could fully leave your lips, swallowing back the last word with difficulty. When you spoke again, your voice was quieter:

“And then you go around and do the sweetest things for me, the most touching gestures and you’re so thoughtful…”

You sighed, taking a few seconds to steady your breathing as your soliloquy left your lungs empty. You looked at the book in your lap, the words incoherently blurring together, the sentences stringing themselves in one long incomprehensible line. Your eyes moved away from the paper, getting distracted by the bigger palms having captured your own. 

“You don’t think you deserve that?” Eddie asked calmly.

You looked up at him, his brown eyes shifting with an emotion you found impossible to decipher. You nodded.

Eddie smiled sadly, “Sweetheart, you’re like the perfect opposite of a Hobbit.”

If it were not for the whiplash you had just been victim to, your heart melting at the nickname he gave you, followed by the name of a fictional race you were not necessarily certain you wanted to be associated with, you surely would have answered more eloquently. Instead, only a ‘huh’ escaped your lips.

“You’re exactly like Bilbo’s evil doppelgänger,” Eddie continued, nodding to himself.

“...I’m not following.”

“Anytime something bad happens during his journey, what does Bilbo Baggins do? He ruminates -which you’re quite good at doing too, that’s maybe your one similarity- but he looks out onto the unjust world that took him out of his cozy, warm and delightful Hobbit hole and he vents his frustration outwards. You, my dear, do the opposite. Anytime something good happens to you, and yes, I will speak of myself as a positive in your life, that string of compliments you gave me is going to serve as an ego boost for years to come, you start questioning it, thinking back on all the negative you’ve ever experienced and wondering if you do deserve that good.” One of Eddie’s hands left yours and he cupped your cheek, “be more like Bilbo. Take credit for the good things when they happen and be frustrated at the world when things go wrong, not the other way around.”

You closed your eyes, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill and leaned into his touch. 

“Come here,” Eddie whispered, pulling you into his chest as he rested his head on top of yours.

Closing your eyes, you focused on his strong heartbeat that you could feel pulsating at regular intervals against your back. There was also his scent, which you could now take full inhales of as you stood closer to him, though the smell of weed was the most intense one. Your fingers idly played with the pins and patches on his jean jacket, tracing the designs that you knew by heart.

After a few moments, you turned your head just a bit, looking up at him. You bit your lip as your smile threatened to morph into laughter at the joke formulating in your head.

“If I become more like Bilbo I might just grow long curly hairs on my feet, though.”

The echo of Eddie’s laugh reverberated against your back as his chest shook.

“I’d still love you.”

[atinylittlepain]

Firehouse Harrington - Chapter 6

fireman!Steve x f!reader/f!oc

series masterlist

It's Thanksgiving and Steve is trying to be better for his girl (what's new?) but he's going to be tested when someone from his past comes to visit.

warnings | 18+ SMUT, actually pretty sweet sex but also some nasty stuff too bc... it's steve, angst, EMOTIONS everywhere, my lord

a/n | um, this one is long, babes. but it's also very sweet, at least for steve. enjoy :)

It’s Thanksgiving day, and Steve’s at the station, and in the doghouse. He was supposed to be spending today with his girl, but when he got back to work on Monday and the chief was asking who could pick up Thanksgiving, Steve had volunteered himself like he always did, not even thinking about how this year he actually had someone he could spend the day with. When he called her that night and admitted what he had done, the disappointment in the sigh she let out went right down his spine. Since last week, Steve had been trying to be on his best behavior. It had scared him, watching her get ready to walk out the door and never come back, mostly because he hadn’t realized just how much it’d destroy him if she actually did it. He knew it was inevitable, she’d find something better, if not someone better, and she would leave. But Steve wanted to hang onto her as long as he could, keep chasing that ray of sun until he was left back in the shade. However, it was seeming that no matter how hard he tried, he just kept fucking up.

“Well, okay, Steve. I guess we could do it on Saturday instead? Why don’t we invite Robin to join us too? She told me she’d be back in town after Friday.” Steve had tried not to groan at that. He really didn’t like that she and Robin seemed to have become fast friends. His jaw had all but dropped on the floor when she had jokingly called him “king Steve” one day, telling him with a laugh that Robin had shared a few memories with her. But, he was trying to be better, and being better meant agreeing to having Robin over for their makeshift Thanksgiving.

The actual holiday was always a bit of a clusterfuck for the station. Idiots trying to deep fry their birds seven different ways, grandmas setting off smoke alarms with cigars from the “old country,” and for some reason, hoosiers had a particular affinity for setting off fireworks after they were good and stuffed with butter and carbs. They had several calls throughout the day, but by the time seven o’clock rolled around, the city of Indianapolis seemed to be good and sedated by turkey, and Steve and the other men working that day were finally pulling back into the station for hopefully the last time that night. What he wasn’t expecting, however, was to see someone sitting on the stoop outside the door to the station. As they’re stepping down from the truck, the person rounds the corner of the garage and Steve’s heart kicks in his chest when he sees that it’s his girl, all bundled up in the frigid night and carrying two large bags that Steve recognizes from the burger joint down the block. He’s left speechless as she toes her way into the garage, a small smile on her face as she tilts her head at him, lifting up the bags.

“It’s not exactly turkey, but I figure it’ll do under the circumstances.” The other two men Steve’s working with tonight are young rookies, all the older men having family to be at home with, and they're watching her like she’s a damn angel descending from heaven. Steve finally cracks into action, a grin splitting his face as he takes one of the bags from her and wraps an arm around her waist.

“Miller, Thompson, this is my girl.”

…

Luckily, because they are rookies, the two other men have yet to get steeped in the misogyny that runs rampant in the station, and are nothing but polite to her as they welcome her in and help her lay out food on the kitchen counter. Steve would normally hate the idea of her coming around here, but with the rest of the crew gone, and after another stupidly tedious holiday shift, all he can do is smile like a dope as she feeds him a french fry. His two coworkers thank her profusely, loading their arms up with food and heading to their bunks to give the couple “some alone time.” Steve barely nods at their words, too focused on her leaning back against the counter and sipping a milkshake. Once the two men are gone, Steve finally clears his throat.

“Um– I wasn’t– you” She just laughs, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Just eat your burger, Harrington. You can thank me later.”

They sit on the grubby sofa in the station, eating and talking quietly. Steve tells her about the man who had tried to build his own deep fryer and ended up setting off a small explosion in his backyard that sent his turkey flying through an upstairs window of the house next door. Her laugh is contagious and they both end up gasping for breath at the ridiculousness of the story. Steve can’t remember the last time he laughed so hard. 

Food wrappers abandoned, they both slump back into the couch, heads tilted lazily to look at each other. He brings his palm down to stroke up and down her thigh, letting out a sigh.

“Thank you. For this. You didn’t have–” She cuts him off, scooting closer and resting her hand on his chest.

“Steve, I wanted to. And you’re very welcome.” For once, he drops it, simply smiling and dipping forward to drop a quick kiss to her lips before pulling back.

“Did you, uh, talk to your folks today?” She nods. She had explained to him that her family lived across the country on the west coast and while she was still on talking terms with them, she avoided going home as much as possible. Steve could certainly understand that.

“Yeah, I did. I told them about you.” His heart jolts up into his throat at her words, eyebrows raising. He squeezes her thigh.

“You did?” She smiles, nodding again.

“Mmhmm. My sister thinks it’s hot that you’re a fireman.” He sputters out a laugh, shaking his head, but she seems to have something else in mind, carding her fingers through his hair to get him to look at her.

“I’m inclined to agree with her.” With that, she’s shifting on the couch to swing her leg over his hip, straddling his thighs and wrapping her arms around his neck. Steve’s hands instinctively go to the plush of her thighs, fingers flexing. She’s already nosing along his neck, making Steve shiver, but he collects himself enough to speak, making her still in his lap.

“Hey, hey. We can’t, baby. Not here with those guys just a wall away.” She whines into his neck.

“Steve–”

“No. I’m serious, doll, you better watch it.” She huffs, and when she finally pulls back from his neck, she gives him an actual pout that he can’t help but surge forward to kiss away. But when he pulls back, there’s a new glint in her eyes. She leans forward, grazing her lips along his ear before whispering.

“What if we took this somewhere else, Stevie?” He both hates and loves it when she calls him that and it makes him groan. 

“You know I can’t leave the station, baby.” She grins.

“Who said anything about leaving the station?”

That’s how Steve finds himself in the jumpseat of one of the firetrucks with her in his lap, gasping between sloppy kisses as he squeezes her ass to grind her down against him. He pulls back with a lewd pop, looking into her wild eyes.

“You know, doll, I didn’t get any dessert.” She doesn’t seem to follow where he’s going with this, scoffing and rolling her eyes.

“Are you serious right now? Steve, you had a milkshake, was that not sweet enough for–” She’s cut off when he lands a harsh smack to her ass, making her gasp and lurch forward into his chest.

“Watch that tone, pretty. And what I want a taste of is a lot sweeter than any milkshake.” His other hand digs into the front of her jeans, cupping her wet heat and she seems to get it now, whimpering out a soft “oh” at his harsh touch. He strokes through her folds, dipping his fingers into her entrance and dragging the wetness pooling there up to her clit as she grinds down into his palm. He presses a kiss to her temple before dragging his lips along her cheek to speak into her ear.

“Stand up, baby. We’re gonna switch spots and then daddy’s gonna have his dessert.” He helps her up, not missing how shaky she seems to be on her legs, before helping her peel off her jeans and panties as she sits back in the car seat. Steve kneels between her legs, pressing a kiss to the inside of each of her knees before drawing them over his shoulders and dragging her ass to the edge of the seat. It’s cramped, there’s no two ways about it, her feet pressing into the wall of the cab behind him and her hands trying to find purchase on the roof of the truck as he starts to work her over. She’s a writhing mess as he licks long, lazy strokes through her folds, sighing and huffing above him. He leans back just to spit on her cunt, watching the way it drips down to mix with her own wetness. She whimpers under his hard gaze.

“Daddy, please don’t tease me– need it bad.” He chuckles before landing a slap to the inside of her thigh, causing her to yelp.

“Don’t be pushy, doll. Daddy’s gonna take all the time he wants. Because this pretty little pussy is all mine, yeah?” She nods, letting out a breathy “mmhmm” when he kisses her clit.

“And I can do whatever I want with it, right, baby?” She nods again, but he wants more from her and lays a quick smack against her clit that makes her hips buck in his hold. It’s a whine when she speaks.

“Yes, daddy. S’all yours– you can do whatever you want– just, please–” He shushes her.

“S’okay, pretty. I’ve got you. So fucking sweet. Daddy’s gonna take care of you.” His last words come out a murmur as he dips back into her cunt, licking into her before sweeping up to her clit and sucking hard around the little bud. The moan she lets out makes his brain go hazy with her as she drags her fingers through his hair, pulling lightly at the roots as he continues to lick at her clit. She starts to grind her hips against his mouth and Steve groans.

“That’s it, doll. Take what you want. Fuck, you taste so good.” She preens at his words, arching out of the car seat as he slips two fingers into her. 

“Feels so good, daddy– p-please don’t stop.” He can feel her already tightening up on his fingers as he pumps them into her.

“You close, baby? You gonna come on daddy’s fingers?” She nods frantically, her eyes scrunched shut as she lets out a high-pitched “mmhmm.” 

“I want your eyes on me when you come. Open those pretty eyes for me, doll.” When she doesn’t listen, he slips his other hand up her front to harshly grip her jaw, making her eyes shoot open as she gasps at the pain.

“That’s it, pretty. Eyes on me.” He dips back down, sucking and nipping at her clit while he fucks her with his fingers. She comes with a broken sigh, hips jerking in his hold as she spasms around his fingers. Steve thinks he could die happy in this position, between the softness of her thighs with the pretty sounds of her breathy whimpers ringing in his ears. He finally pulls away, leaving a sloppy kiss to each of her thighs. As he wipes her slick from his chin with the back of his hand, he takes in the sight of her, flushed and slumped down in the seat. She quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Your sweet tooth satisfied now?” He grins palming his aching hardness as he looks her over.

“Way better than pumpkin pie.”

…

“Steve? Can you go pick up the pumpkin pie this morning? The bakery opens at ten but I need to get to work on all this cooking.” He cranes his neck from where he’s sitting on the couch, his heart squeezing at the sight of her in his kitchen. She’s the sweetest image in one of his sweatshirts, an apron tied around her hips hiding the fact that she’s also only wearing a pair of his boxers. But his attention is quickly pulled to the seeming bomb of ingredients that’s gone off across his countertops. He gets up, shuffling into the kitchen and watching her poring over a cookbook.

“Yeah, I’ll go, um– are you sure we need to make this much food? S’just you, me, and Robin.” She stills where she had been flipping through the book. 

“Babe? It is just you, me, and Robin, right?” She finally looks at him, offering a very nervous little smile. Steve feels like he’s going to blow a gasket already but she’s quick to slide over to him in her socked feet, pressing her palms into his chest and rubbing lightly.

“Look, don’t freak out, ok? But Robin told me one of your other friends was in town this weekend and I may have told her to invite him.” Steve blinks hard a few times.

“You what?” She huffs.

“Steve, don’t get weird. He’s a friend of yours after all.”

“He? Who– who is he?” She furrows her brow.

“Crap, I can’t actually remember his name. Um, something Munyan– wait, no– uh, Munroe?” Steve’s jaw goes slack.

“Are you telling me Eddie Munson is coming to dinner?” Her face splits into a grin and she slaps his chest lightly.

“That’s it! Robin told me it’s been a while since he’s been back in Indiana so it’ll be nice for you all to catch up.” She’s smiling so brightly at him it’s hard to stay mad at her. Steve’s taken to counting to ten to keep himself from saying things he knows he shouldn’t. It works, sometimes. He finally huffs, scrunching his eyes shut before looking at her again and nodding.

“Alright, alright. I’ll um– I guess I’ll go get that pie.” She lands a quick kiss to his lips, grinning up at him again.

“Good. Be quick, yeah? You’re on turkey duty.”

…

The later in the day it gets, the tighter the knot in Steve’s stomach winds. He hasn’t seen Eddie in years, not since Steve went overseas. All he knew was that Eddie had moved down south, seeking the money that was to be made working the oil rigs in the gulf of Mexico. He never wrote, never called, and he figured that Eddie liked it that way, putting everything behind him and Steve couldn’t blame him for that. 

The only thing keeping Steve sane is her, dancing around him in the kitchen, a swirl of chopping vegetables and filling up casserole dishes. He’s never cooked a turkey before, never any reason to, but he takes to the task diligently because he wants to impress her. The sun is just starting to set as he leans back against the counter, bird in the oven and dish towel over his shoulder. He swats her hands away as she goes to peek into the oven and she scoffs at him.

“S’almost done, baby, go get changed.” She smiles, looking down at her now smudged-up apron over her pantsless legs.

“Get changed? What’s wrong with this?” He slides over to her, grabbing her hips and squeezing as she laughs in his grip. He plants a few mushy kisses to her lips, murmuring about how she’s “such a menace” in between them until she finally pulls away to saunter into his bedroom with a huff. A sting runs through his chest as, for a moment, he can imagine them doing this for the rest of their lives, his mind wandering to the image of a baby on her hip as they shuffle around their kitchen. He has to scrub a harsh hand through his hair to clear the thought from his mind. 

His brain is further scattered when the doorbell rings. Steve freezes, but luckily she’s just then coming back out of his bedroom wearing that dress he loves, fixing an earring as she marches over to the door. 

Steve hears him before he sees him. First there’s the sound of her and Robin greeting each other. But Steve would recognize that raspy voice anywhere.

“Well, hello. You must be the catch Robs has been telling me about. Blink twice if Harrington’s holding you against your will.” Yep, that’s Munson alright.

Eddie comes flouncing into the kitchen, her and Robin following behind. Steve thinks that he looks about the same. His hair is a little shorter, but otherwise, he’s still got that shit-eating grin that Steve remembers. Eddie’s eyes crinkle when he sees Steve, already opening his arms up for a hug that Steve was not expecting.

“Long time no see, big boy, bring it in.” 

They get all the food laid out on the dining table, everyone humming at how good everything looks and Steve feels a warm bloom of pride in his chest that he did this, with his girl, together. She squeezes his hand as they all sit down, offering him a smile and Steve thinks for a minute that it’ll be alright after all. And then Eddie opens his mouth.

“So Robin told me you’re, like, super smart. Is that why you’re with Steve? Are you running experiments on him?” Steve would like to drag him across the table and knock his lights out right then, but she takes it in stride, laughing politely.

“Oh, god, no. It’s, um, actually kinda funny how we met. Steve was on duty when there was a fire in my dorm and, uh, the rest is history I guess.” It’s a total lie, and Steve loves her for it as she glances at him out of the corner of her eye, a small reassurance. 

The rest of the dinner goes off as smooth as it can. Eddie tells them about his time down in the gulf (“back-breaking stuff, man. I still get the heebies anytime I fill up my car”) and explains that he’s planning on coming back to Indiana for good, using the money he saved up to go back to school to become a teacher. Steve can’t help but snort at that and Eddie tilts his head at him.

“Something funny, Stevie?” Steve shrugs.

“Can’t imagine you being a teacher, Munson. I don’t remember you caring much for school.” Eddie chuckles, shaking his head.

“People change, Steve, you know that better than most. Besides, I’ll be teaching music, not boring bullshit.” Her eyes are darting between the men, Robin looking on a bit nervously as well. It’s meaningless jabs, but Eddie’s “you know better than most” has a weight to it that everyone seems to pick up on. She eventually clears her throat, squeezing Steve’s hand as she smiles at Eddie.

“Well, I think that’s great, Eddie. You know, there’s really interesting MRI research coming out about how good music is for our brains. They’re starting to use it as palliative treatment for people with Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s disease.” It’s a successful maneuver away from whatever the elephant in the room is. Eddie rests his chin in his palm as he looks at her.

“I’ll be damned, is that right? Tell me more, sweetheart, that sounds wild.”

It’s over dessert that Eddie excuses himself for a smoke break. She and Robin are chatting easily over cups of coffee and slices of pie. Steve squeezes her shoulder, murmuring that he’s going to go keep Eddie company.

Steve gets outside just as Eddie’s lighting up, leaning up against the wall of his apartment building. He grins around his cigarette.

“You wanna bum one, Harrington? Or did you quit?” Steve waves him off, leaning on the wall next to him.

“Been trying to at least. She’ll kill me if she smells it on me.” Eddie laughs, whistling lowly.

“So you’re whipped, huh?” Steve scoffs, going to protest  but Eddie continues.

“It’s a good look on you, man. You seem– I don’t know– lighter.” Steve raises an eyebrow at him, but Eddie just shrugs.

“I’m just saying. You better hold onto that one. She’s the real deal.” Steve sighs.

“Yeah, I know, Ed.” There’s a beat of silence before Eddie speaks again.

“Robs told me you had another close call.” Steve huffs at that, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’re getting older, Harrington. Don’t you think it’s time you–” Steve turns on him, his eyes flashing and Eddie puts up his hands in surrender.

“Did she put you up to this?” Eddie’s face scrunches in confusion.

“What? No, man. But I can’t blame her if she’s saying the same thing. Listen, Steve, I get it, really. Why do you think I went running down south to work my ass off on a fucking rig? It wasn’t exactly for the scenery.” Eddie sighs, blowing out a puff of smoke before going on.

“But, it’s just stupid. Trying to keep running, to keep fighting. You– we deserve to get on with life.  At least that’s what I figure.” Steve sighs, plucking the cigarette right from Eddie’s mouth and taking a long drag before handing it back to him. Eddie glances at him.

“What did you wanna do? Before?” Steve laughs, shaking his head.

“I didn’t have a fucking clue what I wanted to do. I was working shit jobs that went nowhere, even before.” Eddie offers him the cigarette again and Steve takes it with a muttered “don’t fucking tell her” that makes Eddie laugh.

“Well, listen, as your friend? I’m telling you that you deserve to figure out what the fuck you actually want to do, not what numbs your brain out enough to forget the past.” Steve just nods, stamping out the butt before glancing back at Eddie.

“So, you’re really back for good?” Eddie grins, nodding.

“Certified, man. I’m starting at IU after the holidays.” Steve chuckles.

“Eddie Munson, a college man. Who would’ve thought.” 

“Hey, if I can do it, so can you, Harrington. Think about it.” They both sigh and Steve kicks off the wall.

“I will, really. C’mon, we should head back up. I fear what those two could accomplish left alone together.” Eddie chuckles, clapping Steve on the back.

“It’s good to be back, Steve. And it’s good to see you found someone. She’s a keeper, man.”

“I know, Ed. I know.” 

…

She sends Robin and Eddie off with tin-foil wrapped plates stacked high with leftovers and Steve tries not to blow a fuse when Eddie lays a wet, smacking smooch to her cheek, grinning like the devil he is before slinking out the door. Robin huffs, smiling apologetically at her.

“Apologies for the large man-child, he means well. Thank you guys for Thanksgiving part two though, it was great!” Steve draws his friend into a brisk side hug before she’s out the door as well. His girl shuts the door, turning and looking at him with a broad smile.

“Well?” He raises his eyebrows at her as she pads over to him, drawing her palms up his chest to wrap behind his neck. She presses a soft kiss to his lips.

“Was it a good thanksgiving?” Steve huffs, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her closer against him.

“Munson aside? First good one I ever had, doll.” That earns him a grin and she leans in for another kiss that he tries to deepen, chasing after her lips but to no avail.

“We make a good team, baby.” Steve hums at that, once again trying to steal another kiss but she slides her palms down to press into his chest again.

“Gotta clean up, team.” He groans, but reluctantly follows her back into the kitchen to tackle the mess of dishes that’s been left in the aftermath of dinner. It’s quiet and it’s easy as they work. She washes and he dries, and again Steve feels that sting in his chest imagining them doing this after putting their imaginary kids to bed. He knows it’s ridiculous to even think this way. She’s never even mentioned wanting or not wanting kids, and why would she? Still, part of him can’t help but hope that there’s even a small chance she’d want her future to have him in it. He’s brought out of his head by the sound of her humming as she scrubs another pan. He sets down his dishtowel, sliding behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist as he digs his nose into her neck, breathing her in. She huffs under his attention.

“We’re not done, Steve.” He groans, his voice coming out as a mumble into her skin.

“There’s only, like, two pans left, babe. I say we’re done for tonight.” She gives in, setting the pan she had been working on down in the sink and drying her hands off on a rag before letting her palms rest over his forearms circling her waist. Steve starts to press kisses up the sweep of her neck, his teeth grazing the hinge of her jaw as she shudders in his arms.

“Look so pretty, tonight, honey. Wearing my favorite dress.” She sighs, letting him sway them a little side to side as he continues to nip at her skin.

“Wore it for you. Was trying to distract you from being so pissed off at Eddie.” Steve huffs into her neck, drawing his hands down to palm the swell of her thighs.

“It worked. Think I would’ve throttled him if I didn’t have you next to me.” She sighs as his hands continue to run up and down the outside of her thighs, ghosting over her hips before dipping back down to thumb at the hem of her dress. She twists in his hold, threading her fingers through the back of his hair and looking up at him in a way that makes his hands shake. Her voice is just a whisper when she speaks.

“I love you, Steve.” He feels his face melt into a smile, pulling her closer by her waist.

“You do?” She grins, nodding, and they kiss around their shared dopey smiles. Steve pulls away, pressing his forehead against hers.

“Fuck, baby– I love you so much.” And with that he’s diving in for a deeper kiss that makes her gasp into his mouth as he licks into her. Without knowing it, he’s walking her back until she’s pressed into the counter, hoisting her up onto it and settling between her legs. Her fingers start to fumble with the buttons of his shirt and Steve’s quick to help her, pulling it up over his head and tossing it aside. Her palms smooth up his chest, and she hooks her legs behind his thighs to draw him in closer. He breaks away to lay kisses along her shoulder, reaching back to tug the zipper of her dress down until it’s loose enough for her to shrug out of the sleeves. Taking in the sight of her, Steve lets out a low groan.

“Baby, no bra?” She grins and shrugs.

“Doesn’t work with the dress, Stevie.” He huffs, not really answering as he’s already dipping down to lay harsh bites across the tops of her breasts. She gasps as he takes one of her nipples into his mouth, teeth grazing the bud until she’s tugging lightly at his hair to pull him back up for a kiss that’s all pressing tongues and harsh gasps. Her hands wander again, this time down to his belt but Steve’s quick to grab hold of both her wrists in one palm.

“Hey, hey. Lemme take care of you first, doll.” She sighs, her brow furrowing.

“Just want you, daddy. Wanna feel you.” Steve feels like his head is going to explode at her words and the way she’s looking up at him from under her eyelashes. He tries to steady himself, guiding her palms to rest on his bare chest.

“Just Steve tonight, alright, pretty? Want you to say my name while I fuck you.” She smiles at that, dragging her hands up to clasp behind his neck and pull him into another kiss, pulling away just so their lips are barely brushing and whispering “ok, Steve.” Something in him snaps at her sweet words and he grips the plush of her ass, murmuring for her to wrap her legs around him, and he hoists her up off the counter as they continue to smear sloppy kisses into each other’s skin.

He starts to pad out of the kitchen, but his foot gets caught on the rug in front of the sink and they both wind up on the floor. She’s dissolving into laughter underneath him as he presses up onto his hands to check that she’s not hurt. She’s not, but Steve’s ego might be. She catches the furrowed look on his face and sighs.

“Don’t pout, baby. You were just being efficient. Now we don’t have to go all the way to the bedroom.” He can’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head at her words.

“Always such a smart mouth.” She doesn’t get a reply in as he dips down to steal another sloppy kiss. Steve thinks fleetingly that they probably look like a mess. They’re sprawled out on his kitchen floor, her dress all rucked around her hips, his belt buckle hanging open. But he doesn’t care, not when she’s drawing his hips down into hers by hooking her leg around his ass. Steve smacks one more kiss to her lips before leaning back to drag her dress the rest of the way down her hips, his hands skating back up her legs to slide her panties off too. He sits back on his haunches, fumbling with his belt, taking in her splayed figure as she tilts her head and grins at him. His hands still.

“What’re you looking at, doll?” 

“You, Steve. So lovely like this.” He huffs at her words, knowing that if he thinks too hard about them he’ll dissolve right on the spot. He quickly shrugs his pants and boxers down enough to slide his aching cock out, leaning back over her and running the tip through her folds. They both sigh at the contact, and she rucks one knee up to his hip, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he dips into her. He stills for a moment, searching her face.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to work you open first, pretty?” She scrunches her face, tilting her hips to try to coax him deeper but he brings one palm down to the softness of her belly, pressing her into stillness.

“Hey. Need your words, doll. Be good for me, huh?” She frowns, brushing some of his hair out of his face.

“I just wanna feel you, Steve. Want you inside me.” He presses a kiss to her pouted lips, letting his hips roll forward with a deep groan. She arches up into him when his hips finally press against hers, offering up the arc of her throat for him to nose along as she sighs. 

“Always so perfect for me, doll– fuck– tell me when I can move.” She tells him on a breathy exhale that she’s ready and he lets his lips smear over hers as he pulls out, slowly rolling into a rhythm that pushes and pulls both their bodies. It feels different, and not just because they’re splayed on his kitchen floor. Something heady is pulling at the hilt of his spine, pressing his thrusts deeper as she cants her hips to meet him. He’s devouring her, swallowing her gasps and whimpers as he licks into her mouth. It’s embarrassing how quickly the pleasure is closing in around him. 

“Feels so good, Steve– so full– fuck, don’t stop.” She dissolves into a cracked chant of his name and Steve’s head is swimming in it.

He brings his hand up to her jaw, skating his thumb along her bottom lip. She’s quick to wrap her mouth around the digit, laving her tongue over the pad of his thumb and it makes Steve’s eyes roll back in his head. He takes his thumb from her mouth with a lewd pop, bringing his hand town to swipe over her clit. Her hips jerk in his hold and he feels her clench down hard around him.

“Fuck, baby– need you to come for me– need to feel it so bad.” She whimpers his name, eyes scrunching closed as her nails dig into his shoulder blades. 

“Eyes on me, pretty. Wanna see you when you come– c’mon, baby.” Her eyes blow wide as she lets out a broken cry and the way she pulses around him as she comes undone sends Steve over the edge with her, pressing his hips deep into hers as he spills inside of her. They’re both panting, a slick sheen of sweat keeping them stuck together in their embrace. Steve dips his face into her neck, leaving light kisses as he trails up to her jaw, and then to her lips. When he pulls away she’s grinning beneath him.

“I love you, Steve. I really mean it.” For a moment, Steve stills, taking in the sight of his girl. His girl. He almost can’t believe it’s all real, but when she pulls him back down for another kiss, for once all the thoughts muddying his mind go quiet. He smiles against her lips.

“I love you too. Fuck, you’re incredible.” She hums, carding her fingers through his hair. As they stay there, sprawled on his kitchen floor, probably for longer than they should, Steve feels something spreading in his chest. A notion, a hope really, that for her, he might be able to be better. He really wants to be better.

[mads-nixon]

Hoosier Dating an Extrovert Headcannons

Bill "Hoosier" Smith x Extrovert!Reader

Masterlist

A/N: I'm currently obsessed with Jacob Pitts...so you're welcome :) this is about the fictional portrayal of H company boys on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

You and Bill get along from the beginning, and y'all are the epitome of the grump x sunshine trope!!

Sarcasm and your endless optimism go perfectly together, even if no one fully comprehends it.

Where Bill sits and observes most of the time, you never seem to tire from the excitement, telling him about every second of your day with a bright smile on your face.

He won't admit it, but he finds it incredibly adorable.

When things slow down at night and you're sitting in your foxhole, you two often find yourselves talking about everything from back home to the future.

In the quiet when it's just the two of you, Bill seems to stray away from his usual snarky and blunt attitude for one that's much softer. If Leckie or Runner ever got wind of it, he knows he'll never hear the end of it.

You slowly pick up on some of his traits, your own sarcastic and witty side becoming more prominent. Of course, Bill notices and he feels a sense of pride knowing that he's influenced you...and he teases you relentlessly.

"Now, who'd you get that fine sense of humor from?" he asks you, a smirk adorning his lips.

You just roll your eyes. "Definitely not you, honey. You're not as funny as you think."

The teasing NEVER ends, and the H company guys all love the two of you, so they go along with it.

When the terrible shelling on Guadalcanal started, you happened to be on your way back from the bathroom, so you sprinted towards the first hole you saw.

The men inside were calling for you, and right as you were about to slide in, it was hit with a shell, throwing you onto your back. Seeing the horrific remains of the men inside tore at your insides, and you froze. A second later, you snapped out of it and ran to the next hole over, which happened to be your hole with the boys.

You slide into the hole, and someone grabs you and holds you to their chest. It doesn't take long for you to realize it's Bill. He's got you in one arm and a whimpering dog in the other.

He was going insane not knowing where you were, and having you in his arms calms his nerves slightly despite the bombardment happening around you.

The next morning, he holds your shaking form (wrapped in his *signature* blanket) tightly as you sit outside your hole, staring numbly at the ground ahead of you. From then on, you seem to be more reserved...more quiet, and it worries him and the guys to death.

Whenever things got rough, they (especially bill) always knew you to be the one happy thing in their life (not that you didn't make them happy still ofc, but seeing you so shaken hurt them).

He does anything and everything to make you smile, laugh, and seem like your old self again. You never tell him exactly what happened, but it doesn't take much for him to imagine something along those lines.

You know those little habits that you picked up from Bill? Well, he picked some up from you, too, and he finds himself having a more energetic and extroverted attitude while he's trying to be there for you, cheering you up to the best of his ability.

Slowly, with Bill and the other guy's help, things get better, and you become more like yourself again. Although he's overjoyed that you're back to your bubbly and extroverted self, he's soooo relieved that he doesn't have to pick up the slack on that front...because it is exhausting for him to act like that. He'll leave that to you!

Tag List: @footprintsinthesxnd

[softspeirs]

Then and There, Wind in Your Hair (Bill “Hoosier” Smith x OC)

Pairing: Bill “Hoosier” Smith x Female OC (could be read as an un-named OC or a reader insert) Summary: After their meeting in Melbourne, Hoosier writes a few letters, dreams a few dreams, and finds her again after coming home. A/N: I know what you’re thinking - “Katie, aren’t you neck deep in your Masters of the Air hyper fixation?!” and the answer is yes, but I just had to write a companion piece to Clouds Overhead. You don’t have to read that one first, but some elements might make more sense if you do. Disclaimer: I don’t own The Pacific. Please don’t repost, translate, or use this fic for AI without my permission.

And we both laid entwined, stared at the night Clouds overhead, but that was all right ‘Cause then and there with the wind in your hair Heaven was jealous to merely look fair against you

He can’t remember how many days it’s been since he was in Melbourne.

Sometimes, when he closes his eyes, he’s able to block out the rapid pounding of his heart and the distant ack-ack of machine gun fire and remember the sound of the waves on the beach, the feeling of her hair tickling his jaw.

There’s a part of him that’s worried he’s going to forget her face, though he’s not sure how that’s possible. 

He’s worried about a lot of things. Worried is standard operating procedure these days. 

They haven’t been able to get mail out in weeks, the shelling too intense for anything even resembling a CP or a supply depot to be set up, even behind the lines. The lines change rapidly in the Pacific, and he’s not sure he’s brave enough to try to find it even if he did have a letter to send to her.

He’s surprised when they’re finally taken off the line, and there’s mail waiting for him.

Bill, it starts, and he smiles, because she’s the first person in a long time that almost outright refuses to call him Hoosier.

Bill, 

I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to see you off. The War Department has us all running around like chickens with our heads cut off getting ready for our next deployment.

I’m not sure where we’ll be going yet, and I probably wouldn’t be able to tell you if I did. I just hope wherever it is, it’s not as hot as it was in the Philippines when I was there. 

Mostly, I hope this whole thing is over soon. I know it’s naïve of me. I signed up to go to war, and I don’t regret it, but I’m tired. I know you are too.

I hope wherever you are, you’re safe. 

Thinking of you.

x

She signs it off with a metaphorical kiss, and he feels his heart kick into overdrive. He knows it’s dangerous, but he’s starting to dream about someday, and he can’t stop himself. 

Surprisingly, the other guys don’t rag on him about it. They ask him a few questions, but they’re all so distracted about whatever’s coming next, there’s no thought about razzing anyone who’s finding a little slice of joy in anything outside of this hell hole. 

He writes her back when he finally has a minute to think. 

It’s been a long week, I think. He tells her. 

I don’t really know how long it’s been since we were in Melbourne, but I think about it almost every day. 

He wonders if he’s showing his hand too much, but he can’t help himself.

I hope you’re safe. I hope you’re far from the lines, wherever they are, and that things aren’t too bad. We were pulled off the line for a few days here, but I don’t think it’s going to last long. 

“Hoosier.” Leckie says, voice hesitant like he hates to be the one to break him out of his letter writing. “We’re moving out.” 

Bill sighs. Of course. Not a moment’s reprieve.

I think about you often. He scratches, hesitating only a moment. And I hope that’s okay with you, because it’s just about the only thing getting me out of the trench in the morning. 

I hope you’re safe. I’m going to do my best to try to stay safe too. 

Yours, 

Bill

. 

He writes to her nearly every day. He knows she’ll probably get a few of the letters all at once since the mail is so backed up, but he has nowhere else to put his thoughts, and it’s sending him half insane.

Most of his notes to her are mundane, stories about his guys and only a little bit about the mess going on in his brain. If she were here in person, he’s sure she’d look him dead in the eyes and demand he tell her what he’s thinking, but he tries to shield her from it, at least a little bit.

Her letters are the same, stories about the friends she’s making and at the bottom of one, a piece he rips off and shoves in his trunk - her address back home in Chicago. 

Just in case something unexpected happens, I expect you to call on me, Private Smith. I’ll wait for you. There’s no one else.

It brands him like a tattoo right above his heart, on his breastbone where no one but him can see. 

I’ll wait for you. 

It’s the last thought he has right before it all goes to hell.

.

When he wakes up in a hospital a week later, he’s half out of his mind with exhaustion and morphine. Still, his first thought is of her. 

He asks about her, and the nurse frowns at him. “No one here with that name, sugar. Sorry.” 

Did he dream her? 

Did his brain invent her just as a survival tactic to make it out alive?

When he sleeps, he does dream of her. He dreams of them. He dreams of that cookie cutter life with the white picket fence, and her smile. He pictures tangerine sunsets and a backyard barbecue. He pictures a little girl with her eyes and his smile. 

When he wakes, he wishes he could fall back asleep.

He doesn’t get any mail, and he doesn’t have the time or the energy to write any letters himself. He’s hauled day after day into an empty room for rehabilitation, where a nice Lieutenant named Lanie listens to him curse a blue streak as he tries to put weight on his leg. 

“Lanie, I’m beggin’ you to just write down that you saw me walk.” 

She frowns. “No can do, Private. Besides, what good is that going to do you? Don’t want to get your dancing shoes on again someday?”

He snorts. “Who’s going to teach me how not to have two left feet?” 

She shrugs. “I’ll do it. Or how about that girl you keep asking after? I bet she’d be a willing participant.” 

He levels her with a hard gaze. “Lanie, if you know something...” 

“Honest, Hoosier. I don’t know.” She leans in a little closer. “The hospital unit is still on the island and they’re socked in. I haven’t been able to get in touch with my friend there to ask her. You know how it can be.” 

He sighs. “I know. Thanks for trying.” 

“Now do me a favor, will you? Take a few steps so I can get rid of you and go eat some lunch.” 

That night when he can’t sleep, he limps his way down to the mess. There’s a few other guys there, but he finds a table alone. Under dim light, he pens out another letter that he hopes makes it to her.

I’m in the hospital, he writes, his hand shaking a little bit from lack of use. 

I have no idea if you’ll ever get this. I hope you do. I don’t want you to wonder.

What you told me in the last letter I got from you has kept me going. And it goes without saying (hopefully) that I’ll wait for you too.

Another nurse here, Lieutenant Elaine Meadows (don’t call her that, though, she’ll rip your head off. We call her Lanie) said she’ll keep her eyes and ears open for you if you ever make it here, or if one of your letters ever shows up here for me.

At the bottom is my home address in Indiana. Sorry to say, but I think I’ve got a ticket home. 

If you find yourself stateside soon, and God, I really hope you do, please let me know. 

I owe you a date.

Twelve weeks go by. He goes home. And between the agony of his leg and the mess inside his mind, Bill’s morale plummets. 

He’s thrown back into the absolutely insane situation of having to find a job, but he can’t even fathom trying to work for someone so soon after fighting for his life. He has no idea how any of it makes sense anymore.

He almost sleeps through V-E Day, but manages to drag himself out of his bedroom and have a drink with his dad on V-J Day. They’re both quiet, out on the front porch of the house, listening to the revelry from the neighbors.

“You should get out of town for a few days.” His dad says, out of nowhere.

He frowns. “Pop?” He leans forward, wincing as he straightens his leg. “What do you mean?” 

“You need-- you need to get your mind busy again. Take a break from all this, get your mind right, and decide what’s next.” He gives Bill a wry grin. “Besides, where’s that girl of yours, anyway?” 

Bill feels himself pale. “I don’t--”

“Oh, don’t bother. You’re not a very good liar.” 

Bill chuckles. “Guess not.” His hands tap out a rhythm on his knees, his body and mind unable to be still for too long these days. “Chicago.” He says finally. “She’ll be in Chicago.” 

His dad nods. “Interesting.”

.

He still hasn’t heard from her by the time he makes up his mind to just go for it. He’s been seeing in the paper article after article about men and women coming home from overseas, and he just hopes that she’s one of them.

He really doesn’t know what he’s going to do if he shows up on her mother’s doorstep and she’s not there.

The train feels like it’s going slow as molasses. He sits among men and women in uniform, and he feels out of place. He fidgets. He eavesdrops on conversations about the war and about friends they used to know and what happened to them.

His palms start to itch. 

When he arrives at Union Station, he only second guesses himself for a few moments before he seeks a taxi. The ride to the suburbs is nice, and he enjoys watching the trees change color the farther they get from the city. It seems to drag on and yet be over in a flash. He pays the driver, and gets out in front of a large house on a beautiful tree-lined street.

Bill’s hands are sweating. He hears chatter inside the large house, the windows open to let in the autumn breeze, and one voice in particular makes him stop in his tracks and shut his eyes briefly, trying to gather himself.

He knocks, takes a few steps back.

A screen door opens and shuts.

“Oh my god.”

He finally looks up.

.

They sit together on the back porch of her parent’s house, mugs of steaming coffee in their hands, her free hand tucked into his. Her eyes are closed, but the small smile on her lips proves she’s still awake.

He never thought he’d be here. He never thought he’d get this.

“Bill?” 

“Hmm.” 

“I’m--” she sits up, takes her hand out of his. He’s surprised to see her eyes filling with tears, and his heart kicks into overdrive. 

“What?” 

She smiles again. “Sorry. I’m okay, I just-- I can’t really believe we’re here.” She sniffs. “And I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be there for you when you needed me most.” She glances down at his long legs that are stretched out, crossed at the ankles. 

He’s shaking his head before she can even finish her sentence. He straightens, turning sideways to face her. “You were there for me.” He reaches for her face, brushing a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “Whether you realized it or not, you were.” 

“You didn’t even get a single one of my letters the whole time you were in the hospital--” 

Ever since she opened the front door and ran into his arms, he’s felt more at ease than he ever did in Indiana. Despite his mother’s best efforts, he felt unsettled, and this was the final piece he was missing. Even if he had showed up and she apologized and told him it was just a fling, just a wartime romance never destined to go anywhere, at least he would have known.

But this -- this has the potential to heal him in ways he didn’t know he needed.

“Listen to me,” he says, voice soft but firm. “The thought of you kept me going. It kept me alive, as far as I’m concerned.” 

Her face is a picture. Those doe eyes, a little drier now, looking up at him like he’s hung the moon for her. Doesn’t she know that he thinks that about her, too? He realizes with startling clarity that it’s very possible she has no clue. 

“I’m in this,” he gestures between them, “If you are. You owe me a dance, after all.” 

She grins, laughs. “I thought you had two left feet.”

He shrugs. “Well, maybe now I’ve got an excuse to be bad at it.” 

“I’m in this too. All in.” She whispers. Their faces are so close she could tilt her head only a fraction and close the gap between them.

They linger there, in that so-close-but-not-close-enough state of almost euphoria so long that Bill starts to wonder if he didn’t die on that godforsaken airfield, and this is all something his mind has made up. 

But then she finally kisses him, and it’s just as sweet as the first time, and it sends all his senses kicking into overdrive, and it just confirms it: he’s home.

.

A/N: If you’re craving more of their post-war reunion, a few of those lines are directly from this fic, which has a little more of that scene included.

[ballad-of-birdy-lamb]

Hello everyone I am ballad-of-birdy-lamb but you can call me Birdy! I used to be @Mystic-bumble but I accidentally deleted my account. 😭

I will write for The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, Band of Brothers, The Pacific, I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream, Brave New World, 1984, and To Kill a Mockingbird!!!

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes:

Coriolanus

Lucy Gray

Sejanus

Billy Taupe

Mayfair

Jessup

Reaper

Dill (nothing romantic)

Coral

Mizzen (nothing romantic)

Treech

Lamina

Clemensia

Tigris

Dr. Gaul

Tanner

Brandy

Band of Brothers:

(Reminder: I am writing for the characters in the show, not of the actual people. Also, please recommend more characters if I haven't already put them here)

Eugene Roe

Ronald Speirs

Lewis Nixon

Richard Winters

Babe Heffron

Joe Liebgott

Bull Randleman

Joe Toye

Donald Malarkey

George Luz

William Guarnere

Wayne Sisk

Henry Jones

The Pacific:

(Reminder: I am writing for the characters from the show, not the real people. Also please send in other names if they aren't already on the list, I forgot some of the characters)

Eugene Sledge

Snafu Shelton

Robert Leckie

Sidney Phillips

Chuckler Juergens

Hoosier Smith

I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream:

(Note: I only have knowledge of the book, at some point, I'll get to the game. But just keep that in mind when requesting)

Ted

Ellen

Gorrister

AM

Brave New World:

John Savage

Lenina Crowne

Bernard Marx

1984:

Winston Smith

Julia

To Kill a Mockingbird:

Atticus Finch

Scout Finch (only platonic)

Jem Finch (only platonic)

Calpurnia

Tom Robinson

Arthur “Boo” Radley

Rules for asks:

You can do:

1-4 characters

Specify gender (I will choose gender neutral if I'm not given one)

Specify if platonic or romantic

Male reader

Female reader

Gender neutral reader

POC reader

Plus sized reader

LGBT reader

Disabled reader

Platonic

Romantic

X reader

Vs. Reader

Angst

Fluff

Hurt comfort

Yandere content

Polyamory

Headcanons

Oneshots

You cannot:

Ask for NSFW

No aged-up character scenarios (usually weird)

No adult x child (reader being either)

No extreme themes (r4pe, self-harm, pedophilia, zoophilia, etc.)

Ask for over four characters

Extreme gore (unless it is referenced in the fic)

character x character

AU’s

Rules for following:

You can be:

POC

Disabled

LGBT

A minor

An adult (kinda iffy)

A lady

A man

Anything inbetween

Vegan

British

Pro-palestine

French (kinda iffy)

You cannot be:

A ped0

A n4zi

Zoophile

Terf

Homophobic

Transphobic

Racist

Misogynist

RCTA (race change to another. Y’all are broke Oli London 💀)

Proshipper

Pro-Israel

antisemitic

true crime enjoyer

Zionist

Etc (will add more as time goes on)

You can ask to add characters to the list if they are not already on here!

I will be trying to get my old fanbase back, so if you see any posts that seem copied that you have seen from @mystic-bumble, please know, that was my dumbass.

Thank you so much for reading this! Please ask in my inbox! I will be posting just shortly!

Like and follow for more!!

[auroralightsthesky]

Would do Pacific headcanons of hand holding with Hoosier Smith and Sid Philips? Thank you!

Honey I'm screaming like a teenage girl at a BTS concert!!! Of course I'll do it

Bill "Hoosier" Smith

Hoosier will hold your hand at night as you two are falling asleep

Because after what you went through on Guadalcanal, you both had trouble sleeping through the night

Holding each other's hands helps keep you both grounded

Even when you think it won't

But it works every time

Sidney Phillips

Sid has held your hand through the worst of the worst

You held his when you were injured

And again when you stepped off the boat at the end of the war

You held each other's hands when you got married

And again when you had your first child together

You and Sid still do it to this day

Just to let each other know that you love each other

And always will