#joe toye fanfiction

[indigo-graves]

My Links ao3 wattpad ff.net

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

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

Softer | Roy Kent coming soon

This Dance | Joe Liebgott

This Dance Pt. 2 | Joe Liebgott 18+

Falling | Carwood Lipton 18+

Rusty | Lewis Nixon

Rusty pt. 2 | Lewis Nixon 18+

Curahee | Joe Toye

Warmth | Eugene Roe

[siren-meets]

Your Braids Like a Pattern (BoB OFC One-Shot)

Nora Price doesn’t want to admit that her deteriorating hair in the Ardennes is bothering her. Luz and the boys offer some much-needed TLC.

Word count: 1820

Warnings: None! Platonic unless you squint ;)

A/N: My best friend finally joined the BoB fandom, and she dragged me back with her head-first. Thanks @indigo-graves! Check out her writing, too!

Nora knew that her hair was ruined. She knew it when her French braid had turned into an indiscernible mass of frizz. She knew it when the braid got wet and shrank into a sopping bird’s nest, which then turned into a dry and brittle bird’s nest. She knew it when Luz and Lipton’s eyes flitted upwards whenever she took her helmet off.

Lipton had tried to say something— in his own way. Take care of yourself. Why don’t you visit Nixon and Winters’ tent? They’ve got more amenities over there.

He and Luz— her foxhole mates— had been whispering about her for days now, and she had a feeling it wasn’t just about her hair. She had been brushing off the men’s concerns left and right. She was sleeping in a foxhole. She’d be damned if she was the one worried about her hair. She was fine.

Then, the wrong man had made the wrong comment on the wrong day.

It was midday, and the men had all congregated near a low fire where Malarkey had whipped up a pot of beans to distribute for lunch. Nora had spent the day making house calls to different foxholes to check that the men were changing and airing out their socks in a rotation that would prevent trench foot.

“Here, Nora,” Guarnere greeted, handing her the tin cup of beans that he had just received from Malarkey. She nodded her thanks as he grabbed another for himself. Babe came up next to her, a pair of socks slung over his shoulder.

“I can’t tell if these are drying or just freezing,” he said, gesturing to the socks.

“As long as they aren’t on your feet…” Nora murmured around a mouthful of beans. “You could get them away from my food though.”

She said it with a tired but teasing tone, taking a step away from the younger man, and he scoffed. “Yeah, better step back anyway— I wouldn’t want your hair to start eating me.”

Nora’s posture tensed as she became suddenly very aware of herself. The men nearest them had gone quiet, noticing the change in her demeanor, and after taking a few more bites of her beans, she handed the tin cup off to Malarkey.

“I’ll be in my foxhole if anyone needs me — gonna try and catch some shut-eye in case there’s any shelling tonight.”

She excused herself and Luz, who had been happily chatting with Muck and Penkala, groaned.

“Jesus, Babe!” He griped. “You had to bring up the hair?”

“What?” Babe said, his eyes wide as he looked around at the disapproving faces of his companions. “She ribbed me, and I ribbed her back.”

He was met with a chorus of chiding from the other men as Luz went after Nora.

When Luz arrived at the foxhole, Nora was attempting to yank a comb through her matted locks.

“Woah, easy there,” he said, dropping into the hole next to her. She grunted with frustration as she tried to remove the lodged comb; her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“Hey, Babe didn’t mean anything by that, you know,” he said, grimacing as he watched her.

“I know,” she said between greeted teeth. “I don’t care. It’s just hair.”

“Yeah,” Luz agreed, despite the fact that she very clearly did care.

She struggled with the mess for another minute before finally freeing the comb and taking in its broken teeth. Her face began to crumple, and Luz tensed.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I’m gonna have to cut it all off,” she said. Her voice had the tiniest waver to it, though he knew she was trying her hardest to hide it.

“What?” He scoffed. “You’re crazy! No one’s cutting it off.”

He gestured for her to turn her back to him, and he got on his knees behind her, assessing the damage. He was glad she couldn’t see his face. He prodded at it a bit. “This is—yeah, we can work with this.”

He held a beckoning hand over her shoulder, and she reluctantly surrendered the comb to him. “You think so?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Luz said as he started picking at the mass with the comb’s remaining teeth. “We’ll get you sorted.”

“Thanks,” Nora replied, and he felt a pang in his chest when her voice came out small. “I know it’s stupid…”

“It’s not stupid,” said Luz. “What’s stupid is this comb.”

The two were quiet for a long while as Luz worked through the knots. He hoped he wasn’t doing more damage than help.

“Maybe I should just cut it off,” Nora whispered. “Braiding it to keep it out of the way is what got me into this mess.”

“Nope,” said Luz. “I promised that not a hair on your head would be harmed on my watch, and that includes…well, your hair.”

Nora laughed and sniffled. Her shoulders had relaxed considerably since he started. “How’s it going back there?”

Luz sat back on his heels to survey his work. “I think we’re gonna have to take it in stages.”

Three hours later, they were starting to see some progress, but not nearly as much as Luz had led Nora to hope. When his arms grew tired, Lipton, who had returned to the foxhole, took a shift with the new comb he had sourced.

Nora’s scalp was starting to feel tender, and she made a point not to look at the comb to make note of how much hair was coming out.

“It’s only because your hair’s so thick,” Luz assured her. “That’s a good thing.”

Nora winced as he pulled as a particularly difficult tangle at the top of the matted section. Joe Toye, who was passing by their foxhole on the way to watch the line with his rifle slung over his shoulder, made eye contact and tipped his chin in acknowledgement. Nora waved, cringing when she felt a particularly taut hair release from her scalp.

Toye slowed, lingering near the hole for a few moments wordlessly as he watched Luz work.

“Everything okay?” Nora asked, wondering if he needed medical attention. He glanced in the direction of the front line and back as if debating with himself. His tongue was pushed into his cheek in that perpetual expression of frustration he wore.

“Luz, the Germans would be gentler than that,” He groused.

“Hey, what do you want from me?” Luz said between clenched teeth as he placed the comb in his mouth and attempted to work the knot between his fingers instead. “I’m tryin’ here.”

“You gotta start at the bottom,” Toye said. Luz’s movements paused as he processed the instruction.

“Brush up?” He said. “How does that make sense, Joe?”

“No, you gotta—” Toye growled, glancing around before taking his rifle off his shoulder and propping it in the side of the foxhole. “Move over.”

Luz ceded to the man, moving to sit on the edge of the foxhole. Toye knelt behind Nora and took the comb from Luz with a glare. He started at the bottom of the matted section, picking at it in short, downward movements. “You still comb down, you just do it like this and work your way up.”

The relief was almost instantaneous, though Nora didn’t say anything out of respect for the comfort Luz had been trying to offer. Toye continued to work gently at her hair, and when Lipton returned to the foxhole to see that progress was finally being made, he offered to take Toye’s spot on the line while he worked.

After Nora’s original panic had passed, she continued to feel self-conscious about the attention that was being paid to her problem. She had dreaded the other men teasing her friends for “doing her hair,” even in good fun, but the company seemed to be united in sympathy for her struggle. That, and she suspected Toye’s eyes were daring them to say something.

Even Nixon and Winters came in to check on their progress when they heard about the effort. Nixon crouched in front of Nora and pulled out a bottle of hair tonic. “I don’t know if it’ll help with the detangling, but it should help with some of the damage.”

She thanked the Captain profusely as Luz took the bottle and began dousing her hair in it. Toye and Luz bickered over her head about the best way to distribute it into the matted section. When Toye needed to head back to the line, Luz took up his post again with a much gentler touch now that he had been shown some technique. Toye had uncomfortably brushed off her heartfelt thanks, and she made a mental note to source a pack of cigarettes for him instead.

It wasn’t long before Babe came along with his tail tucked between his legs. “Hey, Nora,” He said with a nervous chuckle. “Lookin’ good!”

“Relax, Heffron,” she said. “I’m not mad.”

His relief was palpable. “Oh, phew! Cause, you know I didn’t mean it. I was just razzing you.”

“I know,” said Nora.

“If you’re really sorry, why don’t you grab a comb,” Luz said, gesturing to the extra that Lipton had left laying on his pack. Babe did just that, plopping down next to Luz. The three of them chatted and laughed as the two men continued to chisel away at the loosening mass, and Nora, for the first time in weeks, felt more like herself.

After eight hours and several rotating shifts, Luz shoved at Nora’s back. Nora, who had been drifting to sleep sitting up, pitched forward and turned to look at him. “What? Shelling?”

“No, not shelling,” Luz said, smiling. “Watch this.”

He pulled her closer again and placed his comb at the crown of her head, dragging it from root to tip with no resistance. His face was open and anticipatory as he watched for her reaction.

Nora reached back to run her hand over the hair, gasping at how silky it felt. She had anticipated much worse for the end result. She laughed, her eyes tearing up with unshed tears of relief. “Luz, you’re my hero.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said, waving a dismissive hand despite the proud glow on his face.

“I’m serious,” she said, refusing to let him brush this off. “I don’t know what I would do out here without you.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, swallowing. He glanced again at her hair, which she had now pulled over her shoulder to run her fingers through, and then back at her face. She could tell by the look on his face that he wanted to say something serious, but true to his nature, he landed on a joke instead. “Want me to braid it for you now?”

She shoved his shoulders, fighting a smile as she watched him throw his head back in laughter. “Alright, too soon. How about you just leave that down? It’s cold out here.”

[rogue-durin-16]

This is a fun idea that I’ve had rolling in my head for a while, but you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to! What if the reader likes to draw, so obviously, when surrounded by those snackable men in East company, she draws them! She puts little notes next to the faces (ex. Thinks he’s gods gift to women, or sweetest man alive), and maybe how some of the Easy boys would react to flipping through the sketchbooks and seeing the notes? With Toye, Luz, Bull, and Shifty?

A/N: I drew them for no reason. In like half an hour. I am so stupid somebody sedate me. Btw I actually read this when you sent it and thought omg I love it, and then completely forgot it existed. Enjoy these super delayed headcanons? <3

Warnings: none

JOE TOYE

"Hey, whatchu got there?"

Bad start.

You halfheartedly let him flip through the pages and this man's slack jawed.

Keep in mind that, while Joe knows you sketch in your free time, he has no idea you sketch them.

Double shock when he gets to his face.

Doesn't process the silly notes at first because something's not clicking.

You drew him. Him. Out of- him?

Tries his best not to blush

Genuinely doesn't know how to react

AND THEN HE SEES THE NOTES

This man cannot hold back a little smile of endearment when he reads 'toughest motherfucker' because that's a big ass compliment.

Specially considering he thinks he's a dud.

'an actual sweetheart' this man choked on his own words. A SWEETHEART. HIM. A-

"Do you... Like it or...?"

"It's— yeah no, I-I love it. They're really good huh..." Tries to act cool while he hands it back.

He can't look at you in the eye for a hot minute because you made his brain shortcircuit with a quick sketch.

Tough and a sweetheart. No one had ever called him a sweetheart.

Toye knows he's got a soft side to him, but it's buried so deep he never thought someone would notice.

Bot you did, and it keeps him up at night for months I'm not even kidding.

GEORGE LUZ

George is bored. He's very vocal about it.

You don't care. You're very vocal about it too.

Well too bad because Luz wants attention so he's going to annoy you until he gets some.

Verbal vexation doesn't work because you're currently focused on sketching Malarkey, so he switches to plan B; snatching the sketchbook away from you.

Immediately teases you about drawing Don while you chase him through the house you're billeted in.

Flips through the pages without actually seeing shit because initially he just wanted your attention and he got it.

But then he catches a glimpse of his face and sudden he's actually interested.

A boyish grin lights up his gaze.

He's way too happy about a damn sketch and he knows it but he can't help it.

You drew him and he looks handsome. He has never thought of himself as handsome but apparently you did.

Shoves you away to read the notes.

'Easy's source of joy'. THE REASSURANCE HE FEELS-

He snickers at the 'human lucky charm.

Then his head snaps at you in disbelief.

"SHORT?!" He's FLABBERGASTED. It's your turn to laugh.

Also run because George is so chasing you.

He's not sure what he's gonna do when he gets you. Probably hit you with the goddamn sketchbook. Probably kiss you idk he'll see.

BULL RANDLEMAN

Bull knows you sketch them for fun.

He's caught a glimpse of a couple of drawings here and there but never said anything, not even to you.

But now you two are sitting by each other's side at a bar in silence and he's adamant about making a conversation with you.

He bumps your arm, tilts his chin at you and then at the sketchbook peeping from your bag.

"Can I see 'em?"

How are you gonna say no to this absolute darling? To be fair you forgot about the little notes on his drawing.

He nonchalantly flips the pages, occasionally nodding and making quiet comments.

"You got talent, Y/n/n."

He's got the book wide open so you can see what he's seeing. And you see his drawing. And the notes.

Bull's heart swells at the sketch. It shouldn't surprise him— the fact that he's got his own page, but it does.

He reads the first note and the corner of his lip twists up. HE READS THE SECOND NOTE AND SNORTS.

He quirks a brow at you. "Anything you wanna tell me?"

You're mortified. He assures you he's completely kidding. Congratulates you on the drawings. Gives it back and watch your every move.

Husband material huh?

SHIFTY POWERS

Shifty makes eye contact with you while you're sketching him. Thrice.

First time you give him a mortified smile and he doesn't get why, but he returns it.

Second time he knows something's up. He sees the sketchbook.

Third time he walks up to you.

You attempt to uhm pretty much run away because you just finished so there's no need to stick around anymore.

He cuts through and get to you before you can leave.

"What were you drawing?" He asks, but he means 'were you drawing me?'

You show him and his eyes light up with joy.

He struggles with words but his visage is a very telling sign that he actually loves it.

He goes through everybody's sketch and asks if you were gonna add any notes to his.

The fact that he seems so excited about it dims your embarrassment and gives you a little bit of courage.

So you take back the sketchbook and scribble the notes before giving it back.

HE LOOKS EVEN HAPPIER.

'certified guardian angel' HELL YES, HE'LL KEEP YOU SAFE ANY DAY.

'lovely but deadly' he wants to kiss you. Much like Toye, he's not used to people seeing both parts of him, but... You do?

"Could I... Maybe... Keep it?"

You're surprised no one else has asked for the drawing. Maybe they assumed you wouldn't give it away.

Shifty's eyes widen momentarily when you rip the page and hand it to him.

He'll cherish the sketch forever.

Tags:

Band Of Brothers: @francois-ceverts @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

[trashbag-baby666]

Guys I have covid so hit me with more request prompts from this list!! Ive got a few boring days ahead of me!!!

Taking requests for:

Band of Brothers:

Joe Liebgott

Webgott

Luztoye

Baberoe

Winnix

Speirton

The Hunger Games:

Finnick Odair

Top Gun: Maverick:

Rooster Bradshaw

Hangman Seresin

OC’s:

Daisybilly

Baberoe/Graham

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

Fire On Fire: Chapter 5

(Ch. 4), (Ch. 3), (Ch. 2), (Ch. 1)

Gallery II Taglist Application II Symbol Guide

Summary: The truth comes out but neither expected the other's reaction... WARNINGS: Alcohol mention, general angst, fluff A/N: Tagging some of the amazing creators & friends whose work inspired me to start writing again: @wwhatev3r @brassknucklespeirs @softguarnere @holdingforgeneralhugs @rogue-durin-16 @auroralightsthesky @lenabob @legally-devorak @dustyjjumpwings @stillbandofbrothersthirsty @tvserie-s-world @toyes-lipring @hurricanerex666 @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @softliebgott @latibvles @mercurygray @sergeant-spoons @problematicfavesareproblematic @softspeirs

Contemporary: June 3rd, 1944. Aldbourne, England. 

It didn't take her long to find him. 

Alix knew Joe well enough to know that he chain-smoked when he was upset and he'd want to sit down for a smoke before walking back to his billet, especially at such a late hour of the night.

She was a spy; she was supposed to know these things.

There was a quiet pond just a small ways from the pub which had a number of quaint wooden benches overlooking the water's edge. It was the perfect place for a late-night smoke to clear your head.

Despite being the middle of summer, nights in Aldbourne were usually brisk and as goosebumps prickled up her arms, Alix berated herself internally for forgetting to grab her fur wrap before leaving the house earlier.

In Philadelphia high society, fur was primarily for winter wear but with the drafty English air, the former model figured her mother would’ve forgiven her eventually. 

Squinting in the dim light, she was able to identify a lone figure occupying a bench by the water's edge and she surmised it was most likely Joe.

As she approached, the rhythmic click-clack of her heels on the pavement knifed through the stillness and the hunched figure turned, allowing the gentle glow of the moon to illuminate his face.

It was Joe Liebgott alright, and he looked like hell. 

He was pale as a ghost, save for the reddish blotches on his cheeks where tear-tracks glistened. His hair stuck out sporadically and Alix could tell he’d been running his hands through it, another nervous habit of his.

As soon as he saw her, he hurriedly swiped the tears away with his sleeve and only then did she notice the blood. 

It was crusted on the scraped and swollen knuckles of his right hand, with thin dried stripes all the way down his fingertips like crimson paint.

From what she could see, it looked like he'd busted his knuckles open punching something, probably a wall.

"Jesus, Joey, are you okay?!" 

Joe's expression hardened. 

"Don't worry 'bout it." 

Alix ignored him, stepping over the handful of cigarette butts that littered the ground by his boots and rushing to his side.

"Let me see your knuckles,” she insisted urgently. “I can help." 

Sitting next to him on the bench, she reached for his bloodied hand but he jerked his arm away.

"Like Hell you can."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, her temper starting to flare at his tone.

"It means don't bother, Alix," Joe spat and the young agent flinched. 

It was the first time he'd called her by her real name instead of a nickname and somehow, it stung worse than if he'd just cussed her out. 

“You should get going.” His voice was quieter now but just as embittered and he crossed his arms, staring hard at the pond’s surface. “Wouldn’t want your boyfriend getting worried.”

Alix bristled at the accusation. 

"He's not my boyfriend," she snapped. "I don’t even know him. But even if he was, what's it to you?" 

Snorting defensively, she muttered, "It's not like you give a shit about me beyond a quick fuck anyway." 

Joe's head shot up and he looked over at her with puffy, red-rimmed eyes. 

“Is that what you think,” he asked, his voice rising with indignation. “That I was just in this for sex?” 

“Santa Maria," the agent swore, throwing up her hands in frustration. "What else am I supposed to think when you walk into my life just to fuck me and walk out again like nothing ever happened?!”

"Goddamn it, Alix!” Joe sprang to his feet. "It was never about the sex! Don't you get that?! It was about you! It was about being with you!”

“Then why did you keep disappearing?” Alix pushed, her chest aching with half a year’s worth of suppressed heartache. “For weeks, Joey, not just days. Weeks!”

That was the final straw.

“Because I was falling in love with you, alright?!” Joe yelled, his voice breaking as the tears he’d been fighting began to spill down his cheeks. “And that scares the absolute shit outta me!”

Before Alix had time to comprehend what he’d said, Joe had turned away, squeezing his eyes shut and running a shaky hand through his hair as he struggled to regain his composure. 

For a moment, all Alix could do was stare at his back in stunned silence as the weight of his words began to sink in.

“But why…?” she managed to choke out finally.

Why would you love me?

“Why would that scare you?"

Her voice became small and she hated the way it sounded: Weak. Quivery. Scared. All of the things as an agent, she was trained never to be.

"...Am I that hard to love, Joey?" 

He whirled back around, the frustration gone and concern suddenly written all over his face.

"Fuck no! Are you kiddin' me?" 

Joe sat down next to her again, this time close enough that she could see herself reflected in the pupils of his beautiful, brown puppy-dog eyes.

Reaching out, he gently tucked an escaped curl from her bun behind her ear and Alix felt her heart skip a beat. 

"You, Alix Martinelli," he murmured. "Are the easiest fuckin' person in the world to love."

He flashed her a small, rueful smile and leaned back on the bench, digging a pack of his beloved Chesterfields out of his coat pocket.

"Hell,” he remarked with a sniffle as he fished around for his lighter.

“Everybody knows I’ve been stuck on you since your first day here. Didn’t even say a damn word to me but I saw that gorgeous smile and I was done for.” 

He chuckled softly, adding, “Tab and Popeye wouldn’t stop givin’ me shit about it.”

Alix's mind was racing, trying to make sense of it all.

All these abstract pieces, all these feelings, all that time…

“Joey, it’s been six months of whatever this—” she gestured to the two of them “— is but then tonight, out of the blue, you show up with…” 

She trailed off, unwilling or perhaps unable to finish the sentence.

“Mary." He filled in the name for her as he lit up his cigarette, completely oblivious, and Alix felt her mouth go dry. 

"Yeah. Her." 

"That was Tab's doing," Joe explained after taking a drag.

“He could tell I was losing my fuckin’ mind over you and he thought forcing me out on a double-date with him and some local girls might distract me or somethin'.” 

Taking a shorter drag, he let the smoke curl into the crisp night air and remarked dryly,

“As you can see, it didn't work.”

"Sure looked like it did with the way she was hanging off you," Alix muttered, trying and failing to keep the petulance and bitterness out of her tone. 

Joe leaned slightly closer to her to make sure she heard him.

"Not a bit. Like I told her and Tab, I already got my eye on somebody else."

He gave her a wink and she felt her cheeks starting to flush pink so she dropped her gaze, avoiding his eyes. 

It sounded too good to be true. There had to be a catch, there just had to be.

“But if you felt this way all this time, then why didn’t you say anything to me for so long?” she asked, expecting to catch him in a lie and prove to herself that the whole thing was some sort of mistake.

But when she cautiously looked up at him for an answer, he was gazing at her with those beautiful, sad brown puppy-dog eyes she loved so much.

"Because," he began. "I knew two things from the moment I met you. One: I knew loved you. Because how could I not? You're everythin' I ever wanted.  And Two…"

He hesitated for a second before saying quietly,

"Two: I knew you were gonna break my fuckin’ heart." 

Alix's forehead creased.

"I would never," she declared fervently but Joe just shook his head.

“Girls like you don’t end up with guys like me, Ziskeit. I’m not an idiot. You're a calendar girl, for Christ’s sake! You gotta practically beat guys off you with a stick! I've seen the pages people ripped out an' shoved in their pockets for safe-keeping. You're everybody's dream girl!"

He ran a hand through his hair.

"And you’re not just pretty either, you're smart too, crazy smart! With your OSS creds and your high-class schooling, you got one hell of a future when all this is over, y’know?”

Taking another slow drag, he exhaled a few seconds later with a grim-sounding sigh.

"And me, what do I got? I'm just some fuckin’ cabbie from Frisco. Nothin' special. Why the hell would a girl like you, who could have Gene Fuckin' Kelly if she wanted, want me? There’s a thousand other guys— classy, uptown types like your officer back there— who are better for you than I’ll ever be. You'll probably end up marryin' some big-shot attorney someday anyway. So I've been tryin' to stay away from you… and Jesus Christ, did I try!"

He shook his head again.

"Honestly Zees, stayin’ away from you was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do," he admitted. "And I couldn't even see it through 'cause I'm fuckin' selfish. 'Cause at the end of the day, I know I’m nowhere near good enough to call you mine, but goddamn it, Alix, I want to anyway!"

Alix’s vision began to blur and it felt like there was a burning lump in her throat that wouldn’t budge.

This was everything she'd ever wanted but it couldn't have come at a worse time. They were all jumping into a war zone any day now.

Should she tell him how she felt, despite knowing that one or both of them might not make it back home?

Should she open herself up to the possibility of letting him in, just to lose him?

She'd already lost her older brother to the war, could she stand to lose her boyfriend too?

She forced her gaze heavenward, warring internally with her head and heart until the tears passed. Finally gathering her courage, she slid over a little bit, inching closer to him like a bomb she was set to defuse.

Despite her nervousness, her heart had made its verdict clear from the get-go: 

Being his, even for a little bit, would be worth the risk.

"You are more than good enough, Joey," she murmured, tentatively reaching over to rest her hand on top of his before interlocking their fingers. "You're the only person I want."

He looked down at their intertwined fingers and back up to her eyes, searching her features fervently for any trace of deception. 

"No kiddin'? You really mean that?"

Alix nodded, beaming, and gave his hand a light squeeze.

"Of course I mean it! But we're still gonna have to keep things quiet, okay? I don't think either of us wants to get busted for fraternization."

 

Joe nodded in agreement, a lopsided grin lit up his face as the realization sank in: 

They were official. 

He looked more overjoyed than she'd ever seen him, more like a kid in a candy store than a soldier days away from war.  

"Still gonna be pretty fuckin' great though, even if we can't tell anybody we're going steady yet, huh, Zees?" 

Alix cocked her head curiously.

"I've been meaning to ask you what that means. I tried asking Muck because he speaks some German but he had no idea. You're always using it and for all I know, you could be calling me the world's biggest bitch in German or something." 

Joe chuckled.

"It's nothin' like that. Hell, it's not even German. But you're still gonna kick yourself when you find out."

Now Alix was really perplexed. 

"Why?" 

"Because it was right in front of you the whole time." 

"Stop speaking in riddles, you asshole," Alix pouted.

"Fine, fine, just 'cause it's you," Joe teased, his brown eyes sparkling. "It’s Yiddish. The word is Ziskeit but sometimes I’ll shorten it to Zees. Still means the same thing, which is ‘Sweetness’. But we also use it to mean someone you cherish, like a sweetheart.”

Alix blinked in surprise. 

“Wait...So you mean this whole time…?"

"I've been telling you how I feel for around six months now and you had no clue 'cause it was in Yiddish? Yeah." 

Alix giggled and nudged at his shoulder playfully with her own.

"I never took you for a sap, Joe Liebgott!"  

"Neither did I," he quipped as he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "Guess you just bring out a different side of me, Zees." 

"Well that explains why Skip didn't recognize it then. He tried to tell me it meant 'Goose' at first and I told him he was full of shit."

Joe laughed. 

"Goose would be gandz. I can call you that instead if y-" 

"Joseph Liebgott, don't you dare."

The paratrooper jokingly pretended to mull it over for a minute before responding with a mischievous "No promises."

For the first time, Alix realized that her palms had been sweating from the nervousness.

Her first instinct was to wipe them off but she hesitated, biting her lip. A part of her knew she was being irrational but she worried if she let go, the spell would be broken and everything would be as it was before: Joe would leave again and it would be as though nothing between them had ever happened.

It would all have been just a dream.

But her palm was growing clammy and so grudgingly, she let go of his hand, waiting tensely for the other shoe to drop.

But Joe didn't disappear.

Instead, he draped an arm lovingly around her shoulders, resting his hand lightly on her tricep and Alix shifted so she could lean into him, releasing a sigh of relief she didn't realize she'd been holding.

Joe was kind enough not to acknowledge it.

"I didn't know you spoke Yiddish," Alix continued conversationally. "Seeing as you'd had some translation training, I always just assumed you spoke German."

"I speak both,” Joe replied as he absentmindedly traced little circles on Alix’s upper arm. “But German just feels more…distant, y’know? My family never uses it at home, just when we’re in public. We use Yiddish with the people closest to us since it’s a big part of our heritage. It  just feels… more meaningful, I guess, 'cause it's somethin' we don't use with everybody, y'know? Stop me if I'm not makin' any sense."  

“You’re making perfect sense, Joey,” she assured him softly. “And I’m honored that you use a Yiddish term of endearment for me. It means the world that you care that much."

Joe pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Why wouldn't I? I've only been sweet on you for what, six months now? I know people who got married in half that time!"

He chuckled.

"And don't worry, I got lots more pet names where Ziskeit came from too. We're gonna have you speakin' Yiddish like a pro by the time you meet my folks!"

Alix red lips quirked up into a smile.

"Yiddish is so beautiful, I can see why you hold it close. Honestly, English has never been strong enough to describe how I feel about you either, which is why I use Italian. Like, tesoro, which means treasure but we use it for the word Darling. And cucciolo, which is my other favorite. It reminds me of your adorable puppy eyes."

"I know what they mean," Joe divulged sheepishly, turning slightly pink. "I kinda asked Gonorrhea to translate for me 'cause I was hoping you felt the same as me but I was too chicken-shit to just ask ya in case I was wrong..."

"And you still didn't just tell me how you felt, even after you knew I felt the same?" Alix's eyes were huge.

"Yeah, 'cause I didn't believe him." Joe was cringing at his past self now. "I thought he was just fuckin' with me or somethin' 'cause there was no way in Hell a girl like you could ever feel that way about a guy like me."

He shook his head with a grin.

"I've never been so fuckin' glad to be wrong."

Alix was about to reply when a particularly strong gust of wind whipped through the nearby trees, stinging her bare arms with its chill. Starting to shiver in her spaghetti-strap gown, Alix silently cursed herself again for forgetting her fur and began rubbing her hands together to warm them. 

Having noticed her shiver, Joe immediately tugged his coat off and placed it around Alix’s shoulders. It was huge on her but the wool was cozy, still warm from Joe’s body heat. 

Hearing the approaching hum of voices from a distance, she hurriedly glanced over her shoulder before shrugging the coat off as a small pack of servicemen and their dates left the Crown, walking along the road behind them back to their billets. 

“C’mon Ziskeit,” Joe implored. “Put it on, will ya, before you catch a cold.”

Alix shook her head nervously, her eyes darting back to the group passing them by.

“What if someone sees?” 

“Let ‘em.” Joe shrugged. “They can’t write me up for givin’ a beautiful lady my coat when she’s cold, can they? Doesn't prove shit."

“Oh yeah?" Alix cocked an eyebrow slyly. "So did you let Mary wear your coat then too?”

Joe snorted. 

“You kiddin’ me? I wouldn’t even let her hold my jump wings.” 

Satisfied, Alix pulled the coat back on, enveloping herself in the warm wool. She was swimming in it, the thick material dwarfing her small frame like a sack.

The sleeves hung way past her hands and Joe stifled a laugh. 

"Jeez and I thought Perco made the coats look big!" 

"Oh so you let Perconte wear your coat too, huh?" Alix joked, a teasing glint in her dark eyes. "And here I thought I was special." 

Joe rolled his eyes playfully.

"You're a fuckin' smartass, d'you know that?" 

"Hey, you fell in love with me," Alix reminded him with a quick kiss on the cheek. "So you asked for it, Coat Whore.” 

Joe was about to respond when a commotion behind them cut him off. 

"In Banbridge Town in the County Down, one morning last July-" 

Both their heads snapped back toward the sound of the singing.

It was a clearly inebriated Joe Toye stumbling out of The Crown with an equally inebriated Don Malarkey by his side, the pair belting out a truly spectacular rendition of an Irish folk ballad while a bemused-looking Skip Muck was proudly harmonizing just behind them. 

"–down a bóithrín green came a sweet cailín and she smiled as she passed me by! She-" 

Alix grinned. Had it been any other night, she would've been right there with them. 

Her family's maid, Penelope, was originally from Ireland and she'd taught Alix several of her favorite folk songs as the pair hung wash together. Alix's mother, Clarissa, always scolded her for helping Penny with her chores because it "was beneath her as the lady of the house" but Alix didn't mind at all. 

On the contrary, she relished getting to swap stories and folk songs with the older girl, who had done so much more living in her 26 years than Alix had in her 23.

Penny taught her Irish folk tunes and Alix taught her some phrases in Italian to impress the Calabrian boy from the South side that Penny had her eye on.  It was like having a real friend, not like the sycophants at her boarding school who simply had to work their family’s connections into every conversation or they’d combust.

 

“–From Bantry Bay down to Derry Quay, from Galway to Dublin town–” 

As the voices of her best friends slowly faded into the distance, Alix leaned her head on Joe’s shoulder and admired the beauty of the moment----

The chorus of chirping crickets, the faint quacking of the ducks in the shallows, the laughter of her best friends in the background, the soft glow of the moon on the water, the earthy smell of the rolling fields beyond the pond, the warmth of Joe’s body radiating through his clothes as he wrapped his arms around her.

They were going steady now.

Her heart was so full that it felt like it might burst through her chest.

All of the months of waiting and hoping had been worth it. She wanted to cry and shout and jump for joy at the same time. 

But as more and more people began to file from the doors of The Crown, Alix took a worried glance over at the worn watch on Joe's wrist. 

"Madonna mia," she exclaimed. "It's already 11 o'clock and I still need to review my cover story and dossiers before tomorrow!" 

Joe stood up and gallantly offered her his arm.

"Mind if I walk ya home then, Ziskeit? Call me a sap but I can't let my girl walk home alone at night, even if she is a spy. I'd still go outta my mind with worry." 

Alix stood as well, smoothing the skirt of her dress. 

"One condition." 

"Name it." 

"You stay the night. I could use some cuddles from my boyfriend while I'm reading up on all the people I have to kill."

The paratrooper gave her a lopsided grin.

"I was hoping you'd ask, Zees. After I drop you off, I just gotta run back to my place real quick so I can grab my ODs for tomorrow and I'll be right back over. Ya won't even know I'm gone. How does that sound?" 

Alix ecstatically linked her arm with his.

"Sounds perfect."

[fallsirens]

Oh baby guess what! It’s gotten way WORSE! You’d think taking a creative writing class this semester would help me hone in on my WIPs but no, absolutely not, now I have so many ideas and actual class time dedicated to writing from prompts that I can then take home to adapt to my fun writing???

Color coding is the same as my last post of this notebook but now because I want to write basically the same fic but with different pairings I’ve started to add multipliers to some of them. And tbh a lot of the fics under ideas/outtakes need to be moved to be their own section not just a page because they are shaping up to be fully fleshed out/a lot longer than I thought they would be.

So with all that because it’s changed/grown so much I thought I’d post another little capture of my writing situation. Sorry if the text is small and it’s hard to see, you should be able to zoom in on the app if you’re curious!

Anyway peace and love!

[disastrouscanasta]

Still with the luztoye brainrot

[sergeant-spoons]

And Know That Only I ~ Pt II

Perrine Blomme (Perry Bloom)

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow​​​​​​​​​​ @chaosklutz​​​​​​​​​​ @wexhappyxfew​​​​​​​​​​ @50svibes​​​​​​​​​​ @tvserie-s-world​​​​​​​​​​ @adamantiumdragonfly​​​​​​​​​​ @ask-you-what-sir​​​​​​​​​​ @whovian45810​​​​​​​​​​​ @brokennerdalert​​​​​​​​​​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​​​​​​​​​​ @claire-bear-1218​​​​​​​​​​ @heirsoflilith​​​​​​​​​​​ @itswormtrain​​​​​​​​​​​ @actualtrashpanda​​​​​​​​​​​ @wtrpxrks​​​​​​​​​​​

Part 2 of Follow Me, My Dear, And Know That Only I Will Follow You.

Title comes from the song “Long Way Around” by The Sweeplings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Airfield was as busy as a beehive on the morning of the big jump. It was to be Perry's first, and she considered herself rather fortunate that her luck had landed her with (supposedly) sleepy Holland. Every soldier from Private to Colonel bustled about, every minute demanding something new. The Toccoa men prepped themselves and the replacements tried to keep up; if they were lucky, they (like Perry or the newly-christened Babe) had an in with a Normandy veteran. Perry had just parted from Miller and Garcia, having been summoned by Sergeant Randleman for one last check-up. She could only suppose someone had let slip at her tiredness last night, and as she approached the sergeant, she found the culprit standing right at his side.

"Joe," she greeted him, then the others, "Sergeant. Doc."

"You feelin' alright, Bloom?" Doc Roe asked, studying her eyes and cheeks for signs of fever or delirium.

"Just peachy, Doc," she said. "No, wait, you're from the bayou, right?"

At his puzzled nod, she grinned.

"Then I'm fit as a croc, Doc."

Joe audibly groaned, but Randleman snorted, and Perry, pleased, prepared to convey her good nights' sleep and readiness for the jump. Before she could, however, something behind her caught the sergeant's eye and his smile dropped like a boulder off a cliff. Joe grabbed Perry by the shoulders and manhandled her behind Randleman and Roe, who'd stepped forward to conceal her.

"What the hell, guys?!" she yelped, trying to get around them, but they wouldn't let her. She had to grab Joe's shoulder and balance on her toes to see what was going on.

There was a transport going by with two men perched on the sides of the jeep, practically boot-to-shoulder with the driver. One of them sat with his chin up, bouncing merrily along with the rumbling of the jeep and waving to a few men he seemed to recognize, including Doc Roe. The other fellow—an officer, by the looks of his uniform—sat stiff as a gravestone, scanning the crowd with a thick glower.

"Who's that?" Perry asked, eyeing the second man. "He looks pissed."

"That there is Captain Sobel," Bull said, and she could tell without looking that something in his expression had soured.

"Oh, right." Perry gave a start. "Oh, shit. What's he doing here?"

"I don't know, and I don't want to find out."

"You sure? Something could be up."

Before she could try and slip around him, Joe grabbed Perry's arm and tugged her after him.

"Not for you to find out, either. Come on."

"Hey!" She pulled her arm back, ignoring the twinge it gave at the twisting motion. "For the last time, Joe I'm not a kid, so you can stop yanking me around, alright?"

His frown eased a bit, and when he nodded in the direction he wanted to take her, he seemed relieved when she continued to follow him. They skirted around the back of one tent and ducked into its neighbor, and Perry realized only once she was inside that it must be Joe's own. Well, it was the one he shared with Malarkey, but still—she felt suddenly bashful, put on the spot as if she was intruding on his childhood bedroom. There wasn't much left to witness, seeing as everyone had packed up that morning, but she could still smell his aftershave lingering in the closed air. It was the same used by all the men, but he added something to it that made the scent stand out—at least, to Perry it did. Maybe it was a spritz of cologne? She felt his hand on her arm and jumped, realizing too late that he'd asked her something she hadn't heard at all.

"Hey," he prodded. "You alright?"

Shaking off the strange urge to get up close to his face—to see if she was right about the cologne, of course—she had to ask him to repeat himself. Patient, he did, and she shrugged.

"Yeah, yeah, I, uh... I guess I got a bit spooked."

Starting with a truth seemed the way to go, and when he glanced out the open tarp flap toward the road where the transport had gone by, Perry jumped on the assumption.

"The way everybody talks about Sobel, it's like- like he's the monster under the bed, y'know? I never really expected to actually see him. And especially not here."

Joe sighed as he slung his pack onto the ground and knelt, shaking his head.

"You think he's jumping with us?"

He glanced up at her and she saw his frown had turned a bit stormy.

"Might be. If he is, chances are we'll leave him behind. He's too stubborn to listen to anybody out in the field, least of all his own sense—that's why we couldn't jump with him before. He'd get us all killed."

"Shit."

"Yeah. Shit."

He rose and stretched out his hands, and she saw he'd wrapped them as if the bandages were boxing tape.

"But enough about Sobel. If he jumps, he jumps."

He passed her a few strips for her own hands, and she couldn't keep a smile off her lips for long.

"Come on. One more time before we get on the planes."

As soon as she'd finished prepping her fists, she took up the stance he'd taught her and took a few quick practice swings. They mock-sparred for a bit until she managed to land a good one on his shoulder. He stumbled back and wobbled like he was about to fall, and Perry only understood he'd been messing around after she'd jumped forward and grabbed his shirt to steady him. He laughed, his hands coming to rest on her arms, and she squeezed his shirt as if displeased at his trickery when in reality she was just trying to keep her own balance.

"Thanks," he said, almost smirking, and Perry felt the fluttering in her chest maximize.

That was the first time he'd said just 'thanks' instead of 'thanks, kid'.

She stepped back, tugging at her hair, and Joe released her arms, nodding to her hands.

"You got 'em with you?"

She rifled through the inside pocket of her pack and showed him her brass knuckles. That gleam in his eyes from last night was back when he ruffled her hair and told her she'd done well. Leaning aside to peek out the tent flap, he missed the way her hand rose as if wanting to graze his chin and then fell just as quickly.

"Looks like Sobel's moved along," he reported. "You ready?"

She shrugged, starting to remove the wrappings.

"Ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

No glance or smile could have prepared her for the feeling of him taking her hands and unwrapping the rest of the bandages for her. It was such a tender and unexpected thing that she stood there and let him.

"No 'I guess'," he refuted, looking at her hands as he unwound the last strip. "You're gonna be fine."

"Right."

"Right?"

"I'm gonna be fine."

He stepped back, hesitated, and then held out the bandages to her.

"You'd better not need these out there."

Shaking her head, she pushed them back toward him, and he quirked a brow.

"No?"

"From what I've heard about your luck on D-Day," she replied, smiling faintly, "chances are, you'll need 'em."

He snorted and shook his head, but as he returned the bandages to his pack, she caught the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, betraying a kind of fondness that made her a little lightheaded.

"Yeah," he said, the gravel of his voice softening into sand, "you're probably right."

That day was a tumultuous one. The tall grass of Holland would have concealed one man, but a hundred helmets gleaming in the sun did little to disguise the advance. An orange flag welcomed them into Eindhoven, and by the time the better part of the company had entered the town, orange pennants had been strung from here to Kalamazoo. As men fell over themselves to flaunt their stations for the sake of a kiss (or a dozen), Perry searched for a way out of the crowd. Too many people meant too many close encounters and too high a chance of something going awry. She found Victor before long, but they'd only gone a few yards before they heard a kind of chanting from across the street. Perry, wan, hardly realized she'd jumped into the fray until four Dutchwoman were turning her away, their eyes downcast toward the blood and hair matting the cobblestones.

As soon as he caught up with her, Victor drew her aside, turmoil darkening his kind hazel eyes. Perry began to pace, the ugly scene just a few yards away filling her with a kind of rage she'd only felt once before in her life, on the day her mother abandoned the family. Stumbling her way out the door, a vodka bottle in hand, she'd turned to Clyde with venom in her eyes and spat that he was worthless. Perry—seeing red—nearly ran after her and gave her what for, but then Clyde began to cry and the brain fog lifted just enough for her to concede that violence wouldn't do any good. Seeing orange but feeling red this time, Perry was raring to start a fight. Victor agreed to back her up and they started back toward the abhorrent display, detouring only slightly to grab ahold of Joe and Doc Roe. The four Americans converged on the scene together, a spiteful Perry leading the charge, and started to chase off the spectators and perpetrators alike. In what seemed to be only a second, Perry found herself toe-to-toe with three scowling Dutchmen but would not back down, not for the sake of the first word and especially not the last. Victor came up to hover beside her as the argument boiled and bubbled until Perry came close to screaming at the inhumanity of it all.

“You do not know what we have lived-”

“No," she snapped, rage vibrating throughout her entire body, "I don’t. But I sure do know what it’s like to ruin yourself for the rights no person should have to beg for."

The ringleader of the three finally gave up and started to walk away, and Perry almost went after him, but again, somebody she cared about far more stopped her. Victor's hand on her shoulder brought her back to reality, and as a wave of unforgiving nausea swept over her, Perry turned and bent over her knees. Victor urged her over to a spot further away from judgmental eyes and Joe tried to give her his canteen to drink from, but she was too restless to stay still for long or even swallow. Victor went back over to one of the women still on the ground and sat beside her, and Perry was quick to follow. She crouched down beside her friend and gently introduced herself in Dutch as Doc Roe tended to the woman's bloodied scalp. After the woman had dried most of her blinding tears, she seemed to recognize Perry and threw herself into the soldier's arms with a wail. She kept repeating heroine over and over as she sobbed against Perry's shoulder, and they all just sat there, the Dutchwoman and the four soldiers, until the last of the crowd had dispersed.

“That coulda been my mother.”

Victor gave her a puzzled look, but the lump in her throat kept Perry from elaborating, and she stayed silent as she watched Lieutenant Lipton kindly lead the woman away, having offered to walk her home. Perry grabbed Victor's arm and used it as a crutch to bring herself to her wobbly feet, missing how Joe had offered her his on her other side. He dropped his arm, stuffed his brass knuckles in his pocket, and ran his hand through his hair.

"Your mother?" he asked, careful as could be, careful like he knew how Perry felt. Like he knew what it was like to want to punch the whole world. And that's what made her tell him (and Victor and Doc, of course) about Groningen and what leaving did to her family, about her mother and all the bottles in the cupboards, about how nothing could change what she'd done and why she'd thought she'd had to do it, and—most of all—about what little difference there was between the vultures of Sacramento and the wolves of Eindhoven. Joe looked awfully sorry to hear it all, and Perry itched to hug him but knew she might as well give herself up should she make the attempt. Just as she'd crossed the threshold of staring too long, Lieutenant Welsh popped up and dragged her and Victor away to find them lodgings for the night. His attempt was short-lived, however, and Victor ended up drifting off with Donald Hoobler and another trooper Perry didn't know well enough to name while Perry herself turned to Heffron and Guarnere for direction.

"Why don't ya go with Vest?" the sergeant of the pair suggested, pointing the butt of his pistol over her shoulder before nestling it back into its holster. "He said there's a bed or two to spare where he's goin'. Bet he wouldn't mind the comp'ny."

Unfortunately, Perry didn't know who this 'Vest' character was and ended up wandering on her own for a time. She'd just stopped to peer over a low fence into a stranger's fragrant garden when Joe Liebgott surfaced from the dwindling throng and all but dragged her down the street toward a boarding house with all its windows thrown open. As they walked, he informed her that Guarnere, having realized too late that she wouldn't know Vest if he was two feet in front of her, had sent Liebgott to find her. Lieb, in turn, had secured a room at the boarding house on his way and was certain there'd still be room for Perry. He was immediately contradicted by the frazzled landlady guarding the front door, but what she didn't know was that once Joe Liebgott set his mind to something, that something was going to get done. Then Joe Toye came down the stairs for the sole purpose of joining the persuasion and the landlady gave in, but only on the condition that Perry would share a room with one of the pair. To Perry's astonishment, Toye hooked his arm around hers—seemingly without a second thought—and began to lead her back up the stairs.

"He snores like a train engine," he elucidated, shooting her a smirk as Liebgott began to protest, and Perry could do little but laugh and turn her head toward the window in an attempt to hide her pinkening cheeks.

A few hours passed as they dropped their packs and went to find some dinner, then played poker with some of the other fellas in the boarding house until they got sick of losing to stony-faced Toye and hauled themselves off to bed. Perry suggested they do the same and Joe assented, and as the first stars came out, they kicked off their boots, took one last look out the window at the sunset, and readied for bed. Jostling for a spot in the cramped bathroom down the corridor for tooth-brushing and face-washing purposes left them more tired than before, and they rolled into bed almost as soon as they'd gotten back to the room. The mattress creaked a bit but was comfortable enough, and the pillow was one of the nicest they'd maintained since joining the Airborne. The only issue was the singularity of it:

It was the pillow because it was the only one.

Their lighthearted bickering over who would get it devolved into sleepy grabbing and poorly-suppressed snickering that they tried to bite back for the sake of those trying to sleep in the adjoining rooms. Equally persistent, neither would relent, but then Perry stuffed the pillow under Joe's head and plopped hers down on his chest, tossing both arms over his torso to keep him still. She expected him to squirm a bit, but he didn't, just laughed and laughed until she had to threaten to use the pillow to smother him to get him to stop. A peaceful kind of quiet descended upon the room, and as the darkness become total, neither moved an inch, thoroughly comfortable as they lay and daring to assume the other felt the same.

Twenty minutes later, Perry had drifted off into the land of slumber and Joe Toye didn't know what to do with himself.

He knew he'd landed himself in a sort of predicament as soon as they came into the room and saw there was only one bed. It was big enough for the both of them and Perry didn't seem bothered, but what she didn't know was that something had been nagging at Joe ever since he saw her jump into the fray that afternoon, a kind of fire in her eyes that ignited his own. The day turned to night and all of a sudden, they were sharing the bed and he had no idea how to proceed. Now, this was long before he knew who Perry really was—that 'he' was actually a 'she'—but what he did know was that he'd let her stay there, cuddled up to him like a lover, because every time he looked at her she lit a flame inside his chest. And that flame, stubborn as he was, wouldn't go out no matter how hard he willed it to. But here, in the dark, in the night... it was enough for him to pretend. They didn't have to be who they were, they could be someone else, in the dark.

He could pretend that maybe, just maybe, if he was braver than he was, if things were different in so many ways, if this Private Bloom dozing on his chest was a Miss Bloom instead...

"Get some sleep, Lovely Summer," he mumbled against her hair where it tickled his chin, his heart pounding like the dickens. He hadn't expected any sort of acknowledgment, assuming she was fast asleep, so when he felt her nuzzle her lips against his chest in a half-asleep kiss, he felt a thrill and a chill—and it was all too much. Uncertainty flashed into fear, and he froze where he was, one arm draped loosely over Perry while the other hand gripped the sheets, seeking solace. When at last he tried to get up, Perry made a muffled noise of displeasure against his shirt. The vibrations of her voice shot a shiver up his stiff arms, and he hesitated.

"No," he thought he heard her say in a voice that seemed higher than it should have been. "Sleep. Here."

"Right here?"

"Right here."

And then she was asleep, really asleep. He felt the rise and fall of her chest beside him and wondered at the strange way she curved the top half of her torso away from his almost subconsciously. It was as he lay there that he felt his arms relax, and then his hands, his shoulders, and finally, his heart. It became clear even to his sleepy mind that he wouldn't have gotten up after all, even without her protest. He was just too darn comfortable like this, too darn safe, too darn... happy. So Joe laid back down, closed his eyes, and decided to stay happy—at least until the morning twilight gave way to the dawn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Although the first light of day was only just poking through the window, Joe was gone by the time Perry awoke. She sat up, rubbed at her eyes, and felt poorly about herself until the door creaked open and a pair of hands offered two cups of coffee. Joe's gentle smile danced above them, tugging up at the corners when he started to move the cups in a song and dance as Perry tried to take one. She laughed and he relented, handing her a cup, then fumbling in his pocket for one solitary packet of sugar. They split it and pretended it made all the difference in their bitter morning beverages, sitting on the floor and eyeing the world outside the window. Perry kept an eye on her watch and when Joe asked her if she had a hot date, she snorted and told him she didn't want to be late for whatever came next.

"We don't even know what that's gonna be," he said, then, after a beat: "Perry."

"What?"

Joe nodded toward the floor, indicating the bedroom beneath theirs.

"Your foot's tappin' so much you've woken 'em up."

Perry jumped to her feet, flustered, and took a long, hard look at the sunny day while Joe took a long, hard, unnoticed look at her.

"Here's an idea," she said, turning to rifle through her pack and emerging with a block of rations. "C'mon."

Joe didn't get up, just watched her go.

"Where you goin'?"

"It's beautiful out," she said from the doorway. "Don't you wanna eat outside?"

He hesitated, and that was all she needed to know he wouldn't be joining her. Her spirits fell, and her expression must have shown it, for he started to rise, but she waved him back down.

"I'll just go and find Victor or somebody. You- you go back to sleep. Or something."

That was the last time they'd see each other for quite some time. Perry had only just located Victor and Donald Hoobler—dining upon a whole breakfast spread on the upwind side of a haybale—when a runner came past, informing everyone he saw of their proceeding orders. They hopped aboard the tanks of their sister regiment within the hour and started to roll out for Nuenen, receiving a most boisterous farewell from the locals of Eindhoven. At times, Perry was able to glimpse Joe's helmet moving on a tank up ahead and knew it was him from the way his shoulders moved as he talked or listened to a friend. She itched to go see him, maybe make sure they were on good terms, but doubt crept in and held her nerve like a vice. She didn't know who they were anymore, and he didn't know who she was, and all the not-knowing made her dizzy enough that when Lieutenant Brewer crumpled like a sandcastle right in front of her, she didn't even flinch.

The battle didn't last long and ended up a resounding failure on the Americans' part. Things went blurry for Perry after a time and all she could really do was stick to her rifle and her buddies and try not to get shot like Brewer. Her senses only started to clear around the time they made it far enough down the road to safely stop for the night, and panic started to set in as she took stock of who'd kept up with the gloomy crowd and who hadn't. Sergeant Martin spread the word that Sergeant Randleman was missing and—worse—that Victor Rich had vanished with him. Martin was the last to have seen them, which didn't seem to be sitting well with his nerves. With Victor and her squadron leader gone, Perry was already close to her wits' end; the final blow came when an emotionally- and physically-drained Doc Roe informed her that Joe Toye had been sent off the line not ten minutes ago, having been hit badly in the leg during the battle.

Turns out Joe had needed those bandages after all.

"How's your squadron?" Doc Roe asked, and it hurt them both to think it was a question he was asking in Rich's stead. "Everybody accounted for?"

"Everybody 'cept..." Perry looked down, squashing her grief like it was the beetle crawling over her boot. "Well. Might as well say it. Miller's dead."

Roe just shook his head, discontent, and went back to his work. For a moment, Perry envied him, that he had something to occupy his mind with, then felt guilty for those who'd been wounded or killed at Nuenen. Buck Compton went by on a stretcher and tapped her leg, telling her to keep her chin up, and when she told him blank-faced that Randleman and Red were missing, his pained smile fell. She watched him go and kicked at the earth, the voices in her head getting louder and louder. Fortunately, Sergeant Lipton turned up in the right place at the right time. He drew Perry aside in an attempt to assess her clearly-fragile mental state only for her to startle him by letting loose a secret she'd kept for months upon months. Three of the most important people to her had gone MIA or WIA, and now Perry, mocked by a starless sky, let it all spill out. She told Lipton who she was and why and how she'd gotten there, and despite his initial amazement, he got over his shock marvelously quickly. A bit of anger flashed through his expression, then pity, then uncertainty, but by the time he realized her panic, he'd managed to square it all with himself just enough to prevent her from completely losing her shit. Unfortunately, there wasn't a thing he could do to fix the situation other than try and calm her down. Once he'd managed to settle her just enough to think clearly, he sent her to refill her canteen and went off by himself to think things over.

Perry returned to the spot she'd left Lipton and found no trace. At a bit of a loss, she stood and chugged all of the water she'd just retrieved until she felt sick. She sat down until she felt less nauseous, but by that time, the gloaming was turning to twilight and she realized a whole night had passed. In the absence of a sane mind, she hadn't noticed. Still, there wasn't much for an enlisted man to see or do at that encampment other than pace and stew, and so pace and stew, Perry did. Eventually, Sergeant Martin marched over, grabbed her by the arm, and dragged her over to Skip Muck in the hopes that he could:

"-calm down the anxious rabbit whose makin' everybody else anxious—oh, for fuck’s sake, would you stop that shaking-"

Perry managed to force her limbs to go still, but in doing so, sent her heart speeding and thumping all throughout her chest. Though she barely knew him and he, her, Skip frowned with concern. He squinted at her face and blinked for a moment, then turned back to Martin.

"Uh, Johnny, you seen Liebgott anywhere?"

She might have winced to think he'd pawn her off on another so quickly if she hadn't been used to such treatment of replacements, but instead, she just sagged and resumed tapping her foot. Skip's look turned sympathetic and he looked close to apologizing before Martin turned over his shoulder and lit up, drawing Skip's and Perry's attention.

"Bull!" the sergeant exclaimed. "Red!"

Reunions were swift and clamorous. Perry was the first to make it to Victor, jumping right on his back and nearly knocking him over. Victor just laughed and asked if she was alright, and she retorted that if anyone should be asking such a thing, it should be her. A crowd started to gather and Perry hopped down, adjusting her shirt and sleeves from where they'd ridden up. She kept looking right at Victor, then at Randleman, then back to Victor as if this was some kind of illusion conjured up by her sleepless, heartsick mind. Fortunately, they were real flesh and blood and had come back to the company after all. For a second or two as she watched Skip walk Victor up toward the medic's station while Doc Spina came down the hill to greet Randleman, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, Joe Toye would pop up from behind one of the trucks and come over just to ruffle her hair and tell her everybody was mistaken, he hadn't been hit this time around.

Alas, Joe was fated to stay gone—and for several months at that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Read Pt III here.

[mccall-muffin]

Love vs. Hate - Part 8 // Joe Liebgott x OC

Previous Part

Summary: Technical Sergeant Olivia Stark knows the military. Raised in a military family, a graduate of military school and OCS herself, she is transferring from the 82nd Airborne Division to the 101st. Between new friends and what appear to be foes, she becomes a part of Easy Company, 2nd Battalion, 506th PIR.

Warnings: Language

A/N: One more Chapter, and we're going to war, guys! Just a little tension before it gets serious!

Here is my Masterlist

Tag List: @brassknucklespeirs

May 05, 1944 - Aldbourne, England The situation around Sobel gets worse and worse as time goes on, and Lip, Bill, Chuck, and I try again to persuade the other NCOs to carry out our plan, but unfortunately, they still refuse. That all changed, however, when the next incident occurred between Sobel and Winters.

"We lost Winters to Battalion Mess," Myron says, looking at all of us. All the NCOs have gathered in the barn. "You're shitting me," Talbert says, looking at us. I shake my head, confirming Myron's information. "No. Strayer did it while they try to figure out the procedures for his court-martial," Myron explains further. "Well, Nixon better find a loophole to get him out." "And if he don't? Winters scrambles eggs while the rest of us make the big jump with Sobel," I ask, looking at them. "Not me," Bill says immediately. "So, we're going through with this, right?" asks Chuck, and I nod again. "We gotta do something," Myron says. "I'm glad you realize that too, Mike." The latter rolls his eyes. "I was going to wait a little longer, Liv. But now he's gone too far. This power play Sobel wants to play with Winters puts us all at risk."

It's quiet for a moment, and we all sit in front of our papers. "All right. Good. But we'd all better be clear of the consequences," Lip asks, looking at us individually. "I don't care about the consequences," Johnny says immediately. "Neither do I." "Yeah. We could be lined up against a wall and shot. Now, I'm ready to face that. And every one of us had better be, too," Lip adds. "I will not follow that man into combat." "Me neither," Bull now speaks up.

"Very well, then, let's do it. It's been nice serving with you guys." "Nothing is decided yet, Liv." "Just kidding." Bill looks at me for a moment. "Are you sure you don't want to sit this one out, Liv? It would be a shame to lose that pretty face of yours." "Shut up, Bill! I'm doing this, just like all of you, and I'll take the consequences, just like all of you. Got it?" Bill grins, and then we begin to write. "I hereby no longer wish to serve as a non-commissioned officer in Easy Company," he recites aloud.

When we've all written the pages, we fold the letters. "All right, guys. Good luck," Lip says before we all stand up.

It's not long before we're called into Sink's office. On the way there, I exchange a glance with Lip. Now is the moment of truth. We all stand at attention in front of his desk, and the disappointment on his face is visible. "I ought to have you all shot. This is nothing less than an act of mutiny while we prepare for the goddamn invasion of Europe," Sink rages, then looks at each of us in turn. It seems as if he doesn't know exactly what to do with us. "Sergeant Harris?" "Sir." "Turn in your stripes. Collect your gear. You are hereby transferred outta my regiment," Sink demands. "Sir." "Get out." Terrence exits Sink's office. "Sergeant Ranney?" Uh-oh. Not Myron, too. "Sir." "You consider yourself lucky I'm only busting you to private. All of you NCOs have disgraced the 101st Airborne. You can consider yourself lucky that we are on the eve of the largest action in the history of warfare, which leaves me no choice but to spare your lives. Now, get out of my office and get out of my sight. Except for you, Sergeant Stark."

The others leave Sink's office, and I stay behind. For a moment, Sink says nothing. "At ease," he finally says, and I look at him. "What do you think your father would think of this, Sergeant?" I bite my lip. "I think you know that answer yourself. I took you in on his and Colonel Dunn's recommendation. You proved yourself, but I can't accept something like that." "Sir, permission to speak, sir." "Granted."

"I am well aware that this is a disappointment to you, sir, and also that we have disgraced the 101st. But, sir, if I may speak freely, we did this for a reason." "You're a platoon sergeant; you have damn responsibilities. What exactly were those reasons supposed to be, Sergeant Stark?" "It's exactly because of those responsibilities that I did what I did, sir. I don't want to speak poorly of our CO, but sir... Captain Sobel's leadership does raise its questions." Sink says nothing for a moment.

"You may go, Sergeant Stark. Based on your good performance so far, I will not mention the incident in your reports. Dismissed." "Thank you, sir," I say and salute him before leaving his office.

As I step outside and put on my cap, I see Winters looking at me in confusion. As I walk past him, I salute him, but he stops me immediately. "Liv?" "Yes, sir?" "What's going on?" he asks, and I look at him. "What do you mean, sir?" He raises his eyebrows and looks at me. "I think you know what I'm talking about, Liv. Why are all the Easy Company NCOs coming out of Sink's office?" I think for a moment before answering him. "We were just doing what needed to be done."

Winters is not a stupid man. He knows exactly what that means. "Liv... That was incredibly stupid and dangerous." "I believe, sir, that jumping out of a plane into occupied territory is also stupid and dangerous, yet we all do it." "You know what I mean. Why did you guys do that? They could have put you up against the wall." "We can't go to war with Sobel as our leader, sir, and then we're all as good as dead. I hope Sink sees that, too. We figured better just a few of us than all of us." Winters looks at me. Then I salute him again, and he does the same before I step away from him.

It looks like our mutiny did have some results after all. Two days later, we were told that Captain Sobel was being transferred and that we would get a new CO, 1st Lieutenant Thomas Meehan of Baker Company. The men cheered, and for us, it was just a celebration of joy—finally, no more Sobel.

Everything is better with Lt. Meehan. He even took a little time to get to know his soldiers better, as it's not easy for him to be thrown into a group of soldiers who have been training together for two years.

May 25, 1944 - Aldbourne, England "Lieutenant Roush? You were looking for me?" I ask my Platoon Leader, and he nods. Standing next to him is a very blond, tall man with bright blue eyes who smiles at me. "That's right. Sergeant Stark, this here is 2nd Lieutenant Lynn Compton. He has been transferred to us and will be my Assistant Leader. Buck, this here is Technical Sergeant Olivia Stark. Our platoon sergeant." Compton extends his hand to me. "Buck," he says, and I'm surprised to hear an officer introduce himself by his first name. "Liv," I return with a smile.

"Technical Sergeant? You rarely hear that" Buck says, and I press my lips together. "Well, Olivia graduated from OCS as well, but the upper echelon doesn't look at giving a woman the rank of lieutenant, which is why they gave her the next step down," Roush explains, and I shrug. "You graduated from OCS? At Fort Benning?" I nod. "Wow. I'm impressed. And also disappointed in our command, if I'm honest," Buck then says, and I nod again. "I know, but what are you going to do." "Very well, Sergeant. Get the men together. We have some announcements." "Yes, sir."

I call the boys together, who gather in front of Roush. "All right, listen up. First, this is Lieutenant Compton. He's my assistant leader as of now. Second, Lieutenant Meehan has just informed me that we are redeploying. On that note, each soldier returns to his billet and packs up his gear. Tonight, 1800, the trucks are leaving." "Where are we going, Lieutenant?" asks Bill, and I give him a quick look. "We're moving to Upottery, further south." There is silence for a moment, and I look to Buck, who smiles at me. "All right, fall out."

May 30, 1944 - Upottery, England "Hey, Liv. You playing a game too?" Don calls out to me, and I walk over to them. He's standing around a table with Buck, Skip, Penk, George, Bill, and Joe Toye. "What's it about?" I ask, and Don grins. "Craps," he says, and I give him an are-you-serious look. "Oh no, mister. You can forget about that. I always lose to you in these fucking games. And God knows I don't want to lose any more money to you, you rip-off!" "Who do you call a rip-off? I won the money fair and square," Don justifies himself. "Yeah, sure you did. I bet you're cheating. I don't know how yet, but you're cheating." Don winks at me.

Suddenly someone bumps into me and spills beer on me. "Oh fuck, I'm sor..." someone already starts apologizing, but when he looks at me, he stops. "Oh, watch out, Lieutenant, now the show starts," I hear George say, but I still glare at Liebgott. "Don't you have eyes in your head?" I ask and start wiping off the beer. Liebgott snorts. "Yes, I do, but it's not my fault you're so tiny that you're easy to miss." I narrow my eyes.

"Maybe if you paid a tiny bit of attention to your surroundings and not just yourself, you'd notice me too," I give back. "What's happening right now?" I hear Buck ask. "Oh, that... This is the normal Liebgott / Stark bickering. You can get used to it. They're like an old married couple," George explains. "Shut up, Luz!", Liebgott and I say out of one mouth. "See?" he continues to grin.

I turn back to Liebgott. "Wasn't there something else you wanted to say?" I ask, pointing at my uniform. "Your uniform is wet," Liebgott says, and I roll my eyes. "You don't say?! I actually meant something else. Like an apology or something," Liebgott pretends to think and takes a sip of his beer. "Hmm, no. Doesn't ring a bell. Or do you want me to recommend a cleanse?" I fume inwardly. "Like you'd know what that is, Liebgott! Probably your redhead girlfriend did it for you!" Now he looks at me confused and with a frown. "What the fuck are you talking about, Stark?" he asks. "You know exactly what." "No, I don't!" "Damn it, Liebgott, I swear to you, one day..." And then Don butts in. "Okay, that's enough for today, kids," he says, getting between us.

Liebgott and I are still glaring at each other. Don starts waving his hand between us. "Hey, did you hear what I said? Stop it!" I stare at him for a second before turning away. "Fucking idiot," I grumble and sit down with Bill and Joe Toye.

May 31, 1944 - Upottery, England We sit in one of the aircraft hangars and wait for Meehan to explain the plan. There are maps in front of us showing France or Normandy. "Linking Omaha and Utah into one continuous beachhead. Each trooper will learn this operation by heart and know his and every other outfit's mission to the detail," he tells us. "Lieutenant Meehan?" Dukeman stands up, and Meehan looks at him. "Yes, Dukeman." "Sir, are we dropping tonight?" Eagerly, we all look to our CO. Don is sitting next to me, lighting a smoke. I hold out my hand and gesture for him to give me one, too. He gives me his and takes another from Skip's ear. "When it's time for you to know, we'll let you know. In the meantime, study these sand tables, maps, and reconnaissance photos, until you can draw a map of the area by memory. Now, we will drop behind this Atlantic Wall five hours before the 4th Infantry lands at Utah. Between our assembly area and the Battalion's objective, there is a German garrison right here, in this area, St. Marie-du-Mont. Easy Company will destroy that garrison."

"Sounds easy," I say sarcastically, and Don crosses his arms. When Meehan finishes, I join Don, Skip, Penk, and George in walking forward to the sand tables. We study the maps and the plans. As I carefully memorize the map, I picked up the compass I got from my friends. "Are you afraid of getting lost already?" Don teases me, and I nudge him.

"The poor bastards who have to come from the sea. Why do I have a feeling this won't end well," I mutter as I study the maps of Utah and Omaha Beach. "Come on, sweetheart, it's going to be fine. I have faith in it. This operation is so well planned; nothing can go wrong." I look at Don with raised eyebrows. "If you say so..."

June 4, 1944 - Upottery England We have spent the last few days at the airfield. We studied the operation and learned it by heart. The last few days have also been about ensuring we have all our equipment together. The men are getting nervous because it could be any day now. You can tell by the fact that we're all walking around in full gear daily.

I'm walking up to Joe Toye, Frank, and George, who are packing their gear. "Three-day supply of K rations, chocolate bars, charms, candy, powdered coffee, sugar, matches, compass, bayonet, trenching tool, ammunition, gas mask, musette bag with ammo, my weapon, my 45, canteen, two cartons of smokes, Hawkins mine, two grenades, smoke grenade, Gammon grenade, TNT, this bullshit and a pair of nasty skivvies," Toye gets upset, and I smirk. "What's your point?" asks Frank, standing up. "God, this stuff weighs as much as I do. I still got my chute, my reserve chute, my Mae West, and my M1." "Oh yeah, and what can I say?" I ask, still grinning. "I'm lighter than you." "Yeah, and I don't know how you even manage to stand up straight, Liv," Toye returns. "Where are you keeping your brass knuckles?" Frank asks again, and Joe looks at him, annoyed. "I could use some brass knuckles."

Behind us, we suddenly hear Vest. "Sergeant Martin?" he asks, and I shake my head. I have no idea where Johnny is. "Hey, Vest, anything for me?" asks Joe, but Vest is already turning away. "Nope. Sergeant Martin? Talbert?" he calls on and continues walking.

From a distance, I see Roush looking at me and nodding. I understand what he's trying to tell me and stand up before walking through the men. "All right, listen up, listen up. If you did not sign your GI life insurance policy, you go on over and see Sergeant Evans at the Headquarters Company tent. You boys, don't let your families miss out on $10,000," I shout through the crowd and spot Don. "Have you done it yet?" I ask, looking at him. He nods and then picks up the musette bag we just received. "Why are they springing these things on us now?" "It's just an extra eighty pounds strapped to your leg," George replies and then picks it up. "Does anybody have any idea how the hell this thing works?" I shake my head in amusement and then go to show him.

When we are all more or less ready and have done everything, they hand out ice cream to everyone. I sit on the floor next to Bill. "Well, what do you think, kiddo? Guess it'll be time soon," he says, shoveling a spoonful into his mouth. "Looks like it," I say with a sigh. "Why do you think they spoil us otherwise."

Suddenly Vest comes back toward us, handing out leaves that must have come from Sink.

George, being the man he is, reads it right out in his Sink voice. "Soldiers of the regiment: tonight is the night of nights." Toward the end of the sentence, however, his voice changes back to his own, becoming serious. "Today, as you read this, you are en route to the great adventure for which you have trained for over two years."

I lower my plate of ice cream and put my spoon in it. "That's why they gave us ice cream," Bill says from beside me, looking at me. "Told ya," I mumble and stand up. "Where are you going, sweetheart?" Bill asks me, but I don't give him an answer.

I walk through the men and finally spot the one I was looking for. "Harry!" I call out, and he looks up. "Hey, Liv," he says with a smile. "Well, are you ready?" "Can you be ready for this?" I ask, and he shakes his head. "What plane are you assigned to?" he then asks. "Bucks... They think it makes more sense than being on Roush's." Harry nods, then looks to the ground. "Don't die on me, will you?" he says quietly, forcing a smile. "I'll definitely try." I then hug him. "I'll see you over there, yeah?" Harry nods, and then we break away from each other.

When I return to Don and the others, I see Meehan get on a Jeep. "Easy Company, listen up. Gather up around me. Move it up; come on, gentlemen. Let's go. Now, the Channel coast is socked in with rain and fog, high winds on the drop zone. No jump tonight. The invasion has been postponed. We're on a 24-hour stand down." "God damn it," I curse, and it's no different for the others. "Son of a bitch," Bill curses behind me, and I look at him. "Drill sergeants take charge," Meehan is still shouting, and I sit down with my men to discuss the next steps.

[eugene-emt-roe]

Forever Family (WIP) Master list

Veterans Day 2023

Ross McCall 2023

Michael Cudlitz 2024

James Madio 2023

Original Characters

-Claude Taylor

Joan Taylor

Helen Taylor

-David Taylor

Evelyn Foster

Description

-A little description

Snippets

-The Before

Welcome!

[aegondluvrs]

my lover (in my dreams)

Pairing - luztoye

tags - pining, friends to lovers, fluff and angst, angst w a happy ending, so much pining, modern au - australia, modern au - univserity

Joe was never a man of many words, blood spreading across his knuckles and trailing down his face a testament to that fact; always opting to communicate his feelings via his hands over his words, not that he was ever any good at articulating what he wanted to say anyway.

George Luz, however, that man puts plane propellers to shame with how quickly he can run his mouth. He talks so fast Joe has trouble remembering what the topic of conversation George even began with. His talking doesn't end with his words; he talks with his hands and his body, animated and always accompanying his story.

He's loud, he's bright, he's rambunctious, and Joe Toye is completely, wholly in love with him.

He thinks he's been in love with George since primary school. He recalls rounding upon George, brown hair shaggy and long, covered with strawberry milk, tears streaming down his still chubby cheeks and fists clenched by his sides standing next to the bathrooms, looking so small and quiet. Joe doesn't remember much from primary school, but he remembers the deafening quiet coming from George, the taunting from Cobb's shitty friends, but he mostly remembers feeling how Cobb's nose cracked against his fist and how happy he felt. He remembers looking up, seeing George's small face rounded and puffy, the sheer glee so evident and obvious, and 12 year old Joe stood no chance.

(He remembers how angry his Mum had been, remembered the rage of her sharp face and how it dissipated when she saw 11 year old Luz run up to Joe (smelling an awful lot like off milk) and nearly tackling him to the ground in his joy, mouth running a million miles and hour, and Joe remembers the smile across her face, seeing them on the verge of falling, remembers her stalking off to chat with Luz's mum, wrapping his arms around his new friend.)

He's broken out of his daydream, literally and physically, none other than Floyd Talbert knocking into him, knocking his beer and fuck his fucking last smoke- "HEYYYY JOEYYYYYYYYY!" Talbert is all in his face, bright eyed and fuck what has he done now. "Whaddya' want Tab. I was having a somewhat mediocre time, and you ruined it, so it had better be good." He usually wasn't so burly and harsh, but uni was kicking his arse and if he had to watch Gene and Babe make eyes at each other one more time he was throwing himself off a cliff at Bondi. Tab just blinks his massive eyes at him, slow and wow has his right eye always blinked before his left? Joe catches him before he sways himself off the balcony, dancing along to a symphony literally no one else can hear. Joe shakes him once, for a response. He shakes him a second time, harder, because he may throw Tab off a cliff at Bondi before himself.

"It's George, Joe," he slurs the words slightly, but Joe doesn't even hear it, swallowed by concern and a hot flush of worry making its way up his chest and neck, red and splotchy. The music from the house syncs with his heart, pounding and ringing in his ears. He feels off kilter, like something has turned. He sees more than feels his fingers curling into his palm on Tab's shoulders, an instinctual response when one of his friends is in trouble. "He's too hot Joe. Too fine. Too delicious. I'm only a man Joe, how can I resist." He's brought back to earth, Floyd's whining the words, and Joe feels the flush leave his neck, the salty breeze leaving pinpricks on his neck.

He feels Tab shift backwards, watches as he reaches for his phone, realises in sheer horror that Tab is about to show him the messages shared between Tab and his boyfriend. George. George Luz is his boyfriend. Not Joe's, never Joe's. Always Floyd's, since textiles in year 8, he's only ever been Floyd's. Joe is abruptly brought back to the present, shaking off thoughts of a blushing George, glares at Tab as he attempts to unlock his phone, crosses his arms to protect himself. He can only stare blankly when Tab turns his phone, unlocking forgotten as he shows off the picture of George as his home screen, smiling and beautiful and god Joe has to leave now before he says something stupid. "Yeah, nah bud. I dunno'. Maybe you should go back to him. Cause you're pretty fucked mate." He's so fucking jealous he burns, seething as his words fly over his friends head, dopily grinning at his screen and oh fucking jesus he's stroking the screen and Joe is done. He stares at Tab a little longer, jealousy simmering and turning into sadness and Joe is not a good sad drunk.

(Eugene Roe has never seen something so sad in his life, coming home from his human anatomy lab and seeing Toye, small and sniffling, bundled up in Eugene's study blankets and scrolling through George and Floyd's relationship reveal post, bottles of VB strewn across the coffee table. He remembers sitting Joe's head in his lap, muttering soft French lullabies until he feels his friend drift off, his own heart hurting.)

"Floyd?" George steps through the sliding door, his outfit and the lights from Nixon's house making him look like an angel. He shuts the door behind him softly, and descends the stairs to where Joe and Tab are. Joe waves dumbly, rewarded by a soft laugh from George and a confused tilt of his head. He can feel himself staring, at George's lashes, his freckles laying across his cheeks, his big, soft honey eyes, stopping in front of Joe and looking him up and down and fuck if that doesn't send a thrill through Joe. "Hiya Georgie," he wills his voice not to quiver, not to slur, make George see he looks put together, "How are you?" He's slurring, he can tell and George's eyes crinkle at the nickname, smile lines prominent and his mouth isn't even moving and wow, Joe loves Georges mouth.

"Hi Joey, I'm good. Just here to take Floyd home. I haven't been drinking so I've unilaterally voted desso for the night. What about you, Joey?" He loves how his lips curl around his name, all soft and shiny and all for him. For Talbert. Not Him. Never Him. Joe takes a deep breath, wills his drunk self to not do anything stupid.

[rogue-durin-16]

ROGUE-DURIN-16 PROMPT LIST FOR REQUESTS

Disclaimer: you don't have to use these ones specifically, you can send your own prompts and scenarios too. Also, feel free to reblog if you're a writer.

GUIDELINES:

Write down the prompt numbers and/or letters (up to 3)

Write down the character(s) you want in the fic

Choose the fic genre

Specify the reader's pronouns

Optional:

Add a more information on the plot if you want

Specify who's saying which quote

DIALOGUE PROMPTS:

"Hey, you're bleeding!" "Oh my god— really? I didn't fucking notice!"

"Please get up."

"I like you." "Don't do that to yourself."

"Quick— kiss me!"

"Your lips are getting really close to mine."

"My family thinks we're dating."

"We have a problem." "No— you have a problem. I have an idiot who keeps getting in trouble."

"Please, don't let go of my hand. I'm scared."

"Dance with me?" "There's no music." "We'll hum."

"You look like you could use a hug." "Now, that's embarrassing."

"If I don't get coffee soon, someone's gonna die." "I'm 'someone', am I not?"

"How's the day going?" "Well, no one died." "Those are your standards?"

"Don't you dare walk away."

"I'm trying to have a serious conversation!" "And I'm trying to avoid it!"

"Now that I made it weird, I'm gonna leave."

"I don't like saying 'I told you so' but—" "the hell you don't, it's your favorite phrase."

"Are you sure I can't break his nose?" "Depends. Do you wanna get court-martialed?"

"Ten bucks says you don't make it to the door before passing out."

"I've lost the will to fight."

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything that night."

"Come here." "Why?" "Just come here." "No, you're gonna hit me."

"Shut up." "Make me."

"You know we're meant to be." "Yeah, six feet apart at all times."

"I'm gonna marry you someday."

Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment?"

"It was just a joke." "It wasn't funny!"

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"Yes, I have feelings for you. Moving on..."

"Were you dropped on your head as a kid?" "As a matter of fact, yes."

"Rumor has it, I make you nervous."

"I can't get up." "I'll carry you."

"we should cuddle— platonically, of course."

"are you crying?" "... No." "Wow, that sounded so convincing."

"Look at me— you're gonna be okay."

"You have a heart of gold." "But that's not enough for you, is it?"

"Are you asleep yet?" "..." "I love you."

"I've actually practiced this." "Asking me out?" "Yes."

"I'm not easy to love." "Who told you that?"

"You're so adorable." "And you're ruining my reputation. Stop."

"We're just friends." "Oh, c'mon! the only ones who buy that are you, Y/n, and that poor idiot they're dating."

"I have a solution." "Thank goodness." "It involves fire." "Absolutely not."

"Don't you trust me?" "Uh, yeah, with my life, not with my hair!"

"If you ask me, I'd say we deserve a happy ending."

"Can you please keep stroking my hair?"

"We'll get through this. Together."

"You're like a sister/brother to me." "What a sweet way of breaking my heart."

"We could've died!" "Yeah but we didn't." "No thanks to you."

"I don't think I'll ever be ready to lose you."

"What if we kissed?"

"Maybe making out for a few minutes would help us figure things up."

"Oh, you're still alive." "Don't sound so disappointed, I might think you don't like me."

"How long have you been standing there?" "Longer than you'd like."

"I remember kissing you. Why do I remember kissing you?"

"Go to hell." "And leave you here all alone?"

"You feelin' alright?" "Peachy!" *passes out*

"I'm happy with them." "That's not fair!" "Why?" "'Cause I loved you first!"

"You're very pretty." "And you're very drunk."

SITUATION PROMPTS:

A. One falls asleep on the other's shoulder.

B. First kiss.

C. Last kiss.

D. Cooking together.

E. The reader gets hurt.

F. The character gets hurt.

G. They're stranded (alone or with more people).

H. A breaks down, B comforts them.

I. A fixes up B after B gets into a fight.

J. Drunkenly confessing their feelings.

K. Heated argument leads to a kiss/confession.

L. First date.

M. Fake date.

N. Trying to keep each other warm.

O. A is drunk and B takes care of them.

P. Dealing with a friend's death.

Q. A asks B for a dance.

R. Bumping into each other after a long time.

S. The character realizes they're falling in love with the reader (or viceversa)

T. Starcrossed lovers.

FIC GENRES:

Fluff

Angst

Angst-fluff

Hurt/comfort

Friends to lovers

Rivals to lovers

Lovers to friends

Unrequited love

Mutual pinning

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Band Of Brothers: @sparkycorleone @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @comfort-reads

[cielie-voss]

Vera Doyle - Easy Company's redheaded Angel

Part two

Part 2 of my band of brothers fanfiction with my lovely Medic Vera Doyle.

Part One

Part Three

Masterlist

After arriving back in England after D-Day, Vera felt homesick for the first time and tried to drink ist away.

This Part (and the next) was inspired by @bandofspeirs fanfic Blindsighted. (You should absolutely read it, I love it.) 💕

Warnings: swearing, bad flirting, alcohol consumption.

She had never been homesick. Neither when she emigrated from France, nor during her training with the US Army, or when she came to Aldbourne, the last stop before the invasion.

But when she came back to England after jumping into Normandy, after jumping into her homeland to save and liberate her people, she felt that bittersweet heartbreak for the very first time in her young life. She missed her old home. Her carefree life among the fig trees and rose bushes. But now she knew with certainty that she would never get that life back. That she would never see this country the way she once did. This land she once knew and loved no longer existed as she remembered it.

Plagued by these feelings, she accepted Bill's invitation to accompany him and several other men to a bar. She rarely drank with the men. A certain fear was always buzzing around in her head. A fear that she would lose control of herself and that some men might take advantage of that. While she trusted every single one of her friends, there were plenty of men she didn't want to trust blindly.

But that evening she pushed that thought to the farthest corner of her mind. She wanted to drink. No. She didn't just want to drink, she wanted to get drunk to forget this nagging feeling of homesickness. At least for one evening.

At their table were Malarkey, Muck, Penkala, Toye, Guarnere and a replacement named Babe they met a few evenings earlier. Men came and left the table, George was joking around and working hard alongside Buck Compton to wager a few packs of cigarettes. Young women took the soldiers onto the dance floor, people laughed, celebrated and lived life. Everyone was in a good mood except for one person. Vera. She hung over her pint of beer and stared at the vanishing beer crown.

The bartender noticed her mental absence and quickly shoved a glass of whiskey in front of her.

"Here, on the house." His pitying tone only made her grimace. She didn't need sympathy. Especially not from someone like him who didn't even know her. She's too proud for that. Still, she wrapped her pale fingers around the glass, nodded her head in thanks to the bartender, and raised the glass to eye level. For a short moment she examined the almost gold shimmering liquid, turning and swirling the glass a few times before she emptied it with a sip. The whiskey left a burning feeling and she felt every millimeter of the liquid flowing down her throat, but she enjoyed it. That was exactly what she needed at the moment. She paused for a moment, closed her eyes and internalized that well-known burn that reminded her of her father. After the burning had subsided, she took a deep breath and gently licked the last drops off her lip. Then a sound snapped her out of her trance.

Guarnere had ordered another round of beer and now set the full glasses on the table with a loud clunk. She still had her elbows on the table and she was now looking over the glass at Bill with half-open eyes. He smiled at her and handed her a full glass of beer.

"Now drink. We're alive, we're here, we have to celebrate!" Was his simple request. She drained her first glass in one gulp, pushing it aside along with the whiskey glass. No sooner had she toasted with Bill and Toye than the two were already dragged back onto the dance floor by a couple of pretty ladies, leaving her alone at the table with her glass and her thoughts.

She grabbed a lighter from the table and nervously ran it through her fingers. After a while this glass was also empty and with a simple hand movement she informed the bartender that he should bring her another one. Malarkey slid into the chair next to her, a huge grin on his face, his cheeks as red as his hair. He watched her for a moment and realized that she hadn't even noticed him. Only when she brought her third beer to her lips did he speak to her, his grin had disappeared in the meantime.

"How much beer have you had already? You shouldn't drink that much.", he admonished her cautiously, but only got a cold look from her.

"Stop me and I'll kill you.", were her only words. After taking a sip and resting the glass back on the table, she turns to him

"Shouldn't you be dancing with the others too or..." she let her eyes wander around the room. Men danced, played darts, enjoyed themselves with the ladies (and not just by dancing.) "...whatever?" Her gaze was now back on Don, who gave her a penetrating look. After a short silence, he shrugged.

"Why should I? You're sitting here alone with your...", he counted the glasses in front of her. "With your third beer?!" He looked at her again, a little worried. "You shouldn't drink so much, Vera."

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Don. Va te faire foutre!", she just grumbled and demonstratively took another sip.

The alcohol made her otherwise unremarkable Irish accent thicker and harder for everyone else to follow her words. She usually only got that accent when she was talking fast and excitedly, when her words flowed out of her mouth faster than her brain could form the sentences. And the more agitated or indignant she became, the more likely she was slipping words from the French language into her sentences.

"Are you alright? You seem a bit..." he couldn't even finish his sentence.

"Of course I'm fine!" She blurted out, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Do I look like I'm not feeling ok, for fucks sake?!" Malarkey's brain needed a few moments to understand her words. But he saw how tense she was, how empty and burned out. As soon as they were pulled from the frontline, he knew something was wrong with her. At first he blamed it on the stress of the experience of fighting, killing and seeing death right on the front lines of a war. He thought she was haunted by the faces of the fallen soldiers, the faces of those she couldn't save. But he quickly realized that there was something else that was bothering her. Something much deeper than that.

"It's alright. I'm alright." Her voice was downcast, dry as she assured him she was fine. But this statement was not really credible. He knew her too well for that. She was too proud to let anyone know how she felt.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" His hand found her forearm and gripped it tightly, reassuring her that she wasn't alone.

"Thanks, Don." She tried to give him a smile, but it wasn't really convincing. "Now join the others and have fun." Before he got up, he took a deep breath, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek without thinking and then followed her instructions.

More beers, short conversations and awkward attempts at flirting followed, which she had to put up with.

After her fourth beer, Babe dragged her onto the dance floor. Bill, who now affectionately called her little witch, was worried about her. No one has ever seen her this depressed and hurt. She has always been the company's sunshine, always laughing and smiling. He wouldn't be able to make her laugh by himself, but he knew how much she loved to dance. And his new friend Babe could dance like no other. So he persuaded him to lure Vera onto the dance floor.

Her mind was already tipsy after four beers and one whiskey and she found it hard to resist the new guy. Although she was initially reluctant to move to the music on the dance floor with Babe, she still enjoyed it. And after just a few moments, her dance partner managed to make her laugh.

"What an amazing laugh!" he coaxed as he leaned forward and spoke directly into her ear over the loud music.

"Oh shut up," she admonished, still laughing and turning her head away, cheeks flushed. Laughing, he hugged the young woman and led her across the dance floor for the rest of the song.

As the next song started, Bill waved at the two of them, another round of beers on the table. Laughing, the two sat down at the table next to Bill, followed a little later by Malarkey, Muck and Penkala. After a quick toast from Alex, they clinked their glasses. But before Vera could touch the glass with her lips, another replacement approached her from the side.

"I wonder what that pretty mouth can do." He tried to flirt suggestively with her. It took her drunken mind a moment to understand his pick-up line and before she could answer, Bill jumped in. He pushed himself between him and Vera from behind the flirty replacement.

"That mouth can do a lot of swearing, kid. Trust me. Now fuck off." He pressed his index finger against the chest of the puzzled-looking soldier, who after a moment turned and walked away. With an eye roll she put her hand on Bill's shoulder and he turned to her with a satisfied grin.

"Oh, Bill, my hero. What would I do without him?" she blurted out theatrically.

"Pick up a guy for example," was Penkala's reply, making everyone else laugh.

"Oh come on, that wasn't a guy, that was just a kid." Bill replied, bringing his glass to his lips. "Vera deserves better." He took a long gulp and put the glass down.

"Oh really? Something better? Someone like you or who's on your mind?" Malarkey interjected with a grin and nudged Bill with his elbow.

"God, no, that woman would drive me crazy!" Bill raised his hands in defeat. "I think someone like..." He thought for a moment, looked around the bar and then turned back to Vera with a cheeky grin. "Someone like Buck Compton maybe, am I right?" He wagged his eyebrows meaningfully to emphasize his point. He noticed how she looked at the tall blonde man and how she laughed when they talked to each other.

"What?" Her reaction was simple: she was startled. Sure, Buck Compton was obviously handsome, kind, courteous, and a genuinely lovely person. But the idea had never occurred to her. She had often imagined, albeit unintentionally, what life would be like with one of the men in the company outside of the war. But never even a single scenario had awakened any feelings in her.

The conversation quickly fizzled out before anyone could reply, as Bill was pulled onto the dance floor again by a pretty blonde, with Babe and Don following them both.

"Fancy a round of darts?" Skip leaned on the table next to Vera and gave her a questioning look while she happily sipped at her beer.

She shook her head and put the glass down again. "No thanks. But I'm happy to watch you from here." Her heavy Irish accent made Skip a little worried and he glanced at the empty glasses.

"Okay." He grabbed the beer she had just put back on the table and took it with him as he got up. Before she could protest, he said, "You shouldn't drink so much!" and disappeared into the crowd with Alex.

Snorting, she leaned back and ordered another beer with a simple wave of her hand. "Why does everybody keep telling me I shouldn't drink that much?", she wondered.

[ozimagines]

The theater kid in me is about to come out in a way only an English professor could appreciate but

kirk whatshisname always plays minor roles in other shows, a few episodes on The Walking Dead and that one time on White Collar. Both times my man was a grade-A ASSHOLE. My boo thing was stone cold and also??? His voice is so deep like. damn.

He’s almost always an asshole and I love than bc Miguel is just the kindest soul ever. His eyes are so kind I’m 99% sure that makes sense. His accent is so soft and he’s so soft and he’s my lil guy okay leave my man alone

It’s such a drastic contrast and I think it’s proof his actor is just. mwah. Perfection.

also I started watching OZ when I was 14 and my parents told me I couldn’t bc there were penises so being the good child I was I finished s3 within the next week. Now whenever I talk abt it I always say “but I only watched one eps, ofc” and they know I’ve watched the whole thing it’s just so funny to pretend I didn’t.

I’m 16 btw. I regret nothing and everything(good lord there were pee pees everywhere what the fart)

LOL I’m gonna address every part of this but can I just say thank you for making me smile this early in the morning!

First of all, no one ever has to apologize for going full theatre kid on my page. I am, as Funky Frog Bait calls it, “theatre kid syndrome gone terminal”😂.

Second, Kirk Acevedo was the whole reason I watched Oz. I watched Band of Brothers first and fell in love with him as Joe Toye. I searched his IMDB page and this came up. Didn’t think much of it; just wanted to see him. Then I saw Harold Perrineau! And I was like Michael, from Lost! Then I saw Ernie Hudson! And J.K. Simmons! And Dean Winters! And B.D. Wong, Rita Moreno, Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje, and so many others. Just a star studded cast. (To say nothing of Luke Perry, Luis Guzman, David Zayas and so on). Then I found people on Oz. Otto Sanchez, Lee Tergeson, Terry Kinney, Eamonn Walker, and others! (I know they were all known but still they were new to me!) Every character feels so real.

Im reminded of a story Kirk Acevedo told about his daughter. He said he was watching TV with her when she asked him why the heroes on TV never looked like them. He told himself he’d play hero characters when he could… even though he admits the villains are fun to play.😂 Love him. Even though Miguel Alvarez is far from your typical hero, he’s not your typical gang banger either. He’s complex. And you’re right, with very kind eyes. Wish he got a better ending. But hey, that’s why fanfiction writers are here!😂

My parents monitored everything I watched until I turned 18. I remember, four months after my eighteenth birthday, I had decided I wanted to watch Oz and I made a whole proposal to my parents about why I should watch the show. (Think Turning Red when she tries to get her parents to let her go to the 4 Town concert🤣). I finished my proposal and my mom was like… “you’re 18 , do what you want, lol”. So it was actually the first show I watched as an adult. That was about six years ago. I’ve been a fan ever since.

Just some fun set and off set pics of our favorite guys❤️❤️❤️

[wexhappyxfew]

E for Landslide, H, and U for the fanfic ask game !!! :)

AH! POET HELLO!!! thank you so much!! i am especially excited about E for Landslide to say the least ;) thank you again! <333

E: If you wrote a sequel to Landslide, what would it be about?

OKAY! SO! I got this idea for a Landslide sequel back when I was in the midst of writing Natia in Holland, which was peak Natia, to say the least. There's no title for it because I highly doubt I will be getting to it anytime soon, but we focus on Natia and Joe Toye's eldest son, Feliks Toye. He's very much like his mother, in many ways, and goes on to work in the CIA. He's under the guise of 'Agent Brute', a homage to his love for Ancient Roman history and follows him through his time as a CIA agent. We enter the second 'main character', Carrie Tavoularis, a fellow CIA agent, under the guise of 'Agent Viola'. They spend their time as CIA agents in the era of the Cold War and Vietnam, hunkering down in places like Italy, England, and Moscow. I have an incredibly vague plot and we'd have features of the entire Toye family in flashbacks to them growing up, Feliks' relationship with his parents and his two siblings, Poppy and Thomas, and his connections with men from Easy Company that influence Feliks' decision to join the CIA, such as Ronald Speirs.

I think I would definitely enjoy writing it, and hope, if I do get time, I'll maybe test a one-shot out or something! :)

H: How would you describe your style?

I feel my style flows a lot with description and internal monologue. Internal monologue is by far one of my favorite things to write; I just feel that in situations, characters have a LOT to think and feel and experience and an internal monologue provides for that. Natia really was just internal monologue over dialogue and I'm taking that into ATTDC as well with certain OCs. Description I use a lot after that, when it's needed. But, over anything, internal monologue usually carries the stories. I find it most 'eye-opening' and the best way to get the best perspective of the story.

U: Share three of your favourite fic writers and why you like them so much.

This is going to sound so bad but I haven't really read much fanfiction in at least a solid two years since college has started. I tried keeping up with certain fics, but college consumed me and so I haven't been able to really keep up with many fics (it makes me want to cry that I can't, but college always takes priority rn). I DID finally get back a bit and start reading your fic SBT, which I have been thoroughly enjoying more than anything!! Daisy is a loveable lil character and I will protect her with my LIFE! @mercurygray will always be a favorite because of TDS as well; the description, the dialogue, the characters! :) I'm so sorry this is such a bad response to this question!! I keep telling myself to get back to reading more fic, but I just haven't been able to! :(

[sleepisforcowards]

Chapter 2

(Not properly proof-read so read at your on risk!!)

The sky was erupted in auburn colours of the evening when a young girl stepped out of the shop with a multitude of books in hand, which she was trying to shove into the leather satchel-bag she had on her shoulder. She had primly smooth brunette locks which curled just past her shoulders, and equally brown eyes which where squinted in a mix of concentration and frustration at the bag.

Her efforts where in vain however when she blindly bumped right into a hard surface and the bundle of books in hand as well as her bag went tumbling onto the concrete.

She heard a voice curse behind her as she scurried down to grab the books in fear they where damaged, her sister would murder her if she found out her precious novels where ruined. A body, she assumed was the voice she had heard seconds prior, crouched down next to her and grabbed two of the books from the floor.

They both stood at the same time and she was greeted with a tall boy, about her age with a mop of blonde hair and an apologetic grin on his face as he held the books out to her, “sorry girly, shoulda been watching where I was going.”

The girl shook her head quickly, “no no, it was my fault I-” her sentence fell flat as she looked into the boys kind eyes and she suddenly felt a wave of embarrassment fall over her, for reasons unknown even to herself though it wasn’t a foreign feeling for the rather anxiety ridden girl.

As if sensing her uneasiness, the boy gave her another boyish grin. “The names Mikey, by the way!” he blinked at her then looked around, “you alone?”

“Yeah..I was just heading home.”

She watched as his brows furrowed, “it’s a bit late for a young lass to be walking around by herself ain’t it?” he continued at her silence, “You need any company walking home? promise I’m not some creep.”

“No it’s fine, really..I already knocked into you, I wouldn’t want to waste anymore of your time!”

“It’s no bother really, I know I’d want someone looking out for my sista when she’s wondering around- unless I’m being weird and freaking you out? I’ll go if u want-” he pointed his thumb behind him, awkwardly pivoting on his feet.

“No! no..you’re not being weird, I’d appreciate you walking me home actually..if you’re sure it ain’t a bother.”

“No bother here,” his boyish smirk was back, “what kinda gent would I be otherwise?”

A small smile crept onto the girls face at the boys words as she led the way.

The boy- Mikey as he had stated was his name only moments before , broke the short silence.. “so i never caught your name?” she held back yet another smile and turned to him, answering his indirect question with a raised eyebrow.

“I didn’t throw it.” she’d heard her older sister, Dorothy use that come back whenever unwanted flirts headed her way and Dorothy always sounded so confident when she said it however when the young girl said it she thought she sounded anything but.

The boy seemed confused at her statement and staring blankly at her for a moment, as if processing what she said. After a few seconds he let out a laugh which had the girls ears turning red at the noise.

“Touché.. any chance you will throw it then?”

She shrugged, feigning confliction .. “maybe at some point..”

Mikey had raised an eyebrow in her direction once again, “oh yeah?” A smile played at both their lips.

“Yup.” she popped, a relaxed smile on her face as she found herself letting her guard down.

She let out a gasp as she felt a droplet of rain fall onto her and run down her nose. She looked up at the sky and saw Mikey do the same in her peripheral. The water quickly began falling quicker and quicker and the pair looked at each other. Mikey was quick to react, and shrugged his jacket off, putting it over the two as a makeshift umbrella.

“You might want to quicken the pace girly” she felt her cheeks flare despite the rain, at the feeling of his face, maybe an inch away from hers. She ignored the feeling and just nodded, grabbing the boys arm and they took off down the street.

When they had finally made it to her house, the rain soaked through her clothing despite the boys jacket and left an uncomfortable feeling as it rubbed against her skin as she shivered from the harsh wind.

“You could come in if you’d like? It’s the least I could do.” They stood before the steps up to her home.

“Nah it’s fine, me ma’s expecting me home anyways..don’t want her worrying.” He smiled at her despite the droplets running down his face from his dampened curls.

“If you’re sure..” she thought for a moment, not content on leaving the freezing boy to walk home alone, however far that was, “wait! wait here a second, I’ll be right back!!” Her eyes lit up as an idea popped into her head and she rushed up the steps of the house and quickly opened the large door.

The inside of the house was rather homely, a woollen rug at the front of the door and a variety of family photos hung on the walls, picturing the girl along with 2 other slightly older girls and one younger as well as her parents.

The warmth hit her as soon as she entered, causing a burning sensation in her fingertips and nose. She paid no notice however, instead rushing to the busy coat hanger where a greyish umbrella was sat and caught the girls attention.

She quickly grasped it in her hand and rushed back outside to the boy, who’s head shot up upon seeing seeing the girl bound up to him and the splashing off her shoes as she did so.

“Here.” She stated out of breath, shoving the umbrella in his arms, “thank you for walking me home..”

“Hey are you sure? I mean it’s yours?” He looked from the item in his hand to the girl, an uneasy look in eyes.

“It’s the least I could do!” She grinned, quoting the boy. He smirked at this and shook his head.

“Fine.. but I’m gonna give it back okay? I ain’t stealing some random girls umbrella.”

“Okay…well you know which house it is.” She gave him one last smile before turning back into the warmth of the house.

She watched him walk down the street, from the window adjacent to the door..not in a stalker way, she swears.

“Who’s that then?”

She whipped around at the voice, glaring at her sister. “No one.”

“Uh huh?.. sureee,” she could tell her sister was just trying to get under her skin..and it was working.

“Shut up Darlene! Don’t you have better things to do then spy on me?”

The girls both turned at the sound of their mother, “don’t argue girls. Besides suppers ready.” the older women stood at the door way, a stern look on her face.

“Yes mother.” They said simultaneously before walking single-file past there mother and into the kitchen.

“For goodness sake Daisy, have some common sense!” She snapped at her daughter, blocking her from entering the kitchen.

The girl looked up at her mother questionably, which only seemed to annoy her further, “you’re dripping water onto my floor young lady! Go freshen up before you join us at the table!”

She nodded, having forgot about her clothes, which where soaked through and weighed her down with water.

April 5th 1937,

The sky was over-cast as Mikey stepped out his house, the umbrella in his grasp. The rain from the night before had created puddles and left the concrete damp and wet, evident in the echoed slaps of his shoes against it.

He was making a detour to return the umbrella before school, though he was pretty sure he’d be late regardless.

As Mikey walked down the street, his mind drifted back to the girl he’d bumped into.

“see ya Mikey!” Tommy had called, walking down the opposite way to Mikey with Joe Crilton. The two had decided to go check out a new shop opening near the park while Mikey has opted to start walking home.

“see ya Tommy, Bye Harry!” Mikey returned, earning a wave from Joe.

He turned back around once the pair had disappeared down the street, almost immediately walking straight into something, or rather someone.

He cursed under his breath and quickly bent down to help the girl. He grabbed two of the books that where sprawled on the floor. He inwardly winced upon seeing the condition of one of them, splattered in dirt from the floor and making a quick decision, he closed it and hoped she wouldn’t notice the damage.

He held out it to the girl, now being able to properly see who he’d collided with. She was about the same age as him, with brunette hair and freckles, though she was noticeably shorter than Mikey.

He smiled his best ‘im so sorry please don’t murder me random stranger’ grin.

Lost in thought, he didn’t notice he had arrived until he looked up and saw the familiar house.

As he stepped up onto the porch, he felt a nagging feeling in his chest. Before he could change his mind, he rung the posh-looking doorbell.

It was silent for a moment, before shuffling could be heard on the other side of the door. Suddenly, the door swung open revealing a teenage girl with an annoyed expression on her face, “I thought I told you not-” she cut herself off when she looked at him, “sorry..I was expecting someone else..”

Mikey only smiled awkwardly, “it’s fine..um I wanted to give this back.”

She raised an eyebrow at the umbrella he had held out towards her, “how’d you even get that?”

“A girl gave it me.” realising that he may have sounded strange he elaborated, “your sister I’m gonna assume?”

“Daisy?” he nodded though unsure, “wha for?”

“I walked her home the other day, she gave it me so I didn’t get soaked.”

she just nodded her head and took the umbrella from him, “I’ll tell her you stopped by, kay?”

“thanks..” he shoved his hands in his pockets as she shut the door, walking back down the porch.

tag list- @oopsiegracie @liebgotts-lovergirl