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mads-weasley · 10 months

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Epiphany Pt. 2: Out of the Woods

Lewis Nixon x Reader

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: here's chapter two, guys! thanks to everyone who responded to the first part! y'all made my day! without further ado, enjoy! hbo owns the rights, and this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Summary: Operation Overlord is upon Easy Company, and the brave paratroopers get their first taste of war.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: mentions of death, blood

Hundreds of tents lined the muddy fields surrounding the Upottery Airfield in preparation for Operation Overlord. (Y/n) found a dry spot amongst 2nd platoon and laid out all of her supplies. Looking at the various grenades, mines, and other random items, she groaned. “How am I supposed to put all of this in a pack? It’s ridiculous!”

“Tell me about it! ”Joe Toye scoffed from her right, staring down at his pile. “I’ve got a three-day supply of ‘K’ rations, chocolate bars, charms, candy, powdered coffee, sugar, matches, compass, bayonet, entrenching tool, ammunition, gas mask, musette bag with ammo, my webbing, my .45, canteen, two cartons of smokes, Hawkins mine, two grenades, smoke grenades, Gammon grenade, TNT, this bull, and a pair of nasty skivvies!”

Perconte rolled his eyes, tired of Joe’s rant. “What’s your point?”

“Come on,” Toye fumed. “This stuff weighs as much as I do! Probably twice as much as (y/l/n).”

“Yeah, yeah,” she chuckled as Joe continued.

“I still got my chute, my reserve chute, my Mae West, and my M-1.”

Frank got up and walked past the group, calling over his shoulder with an amused expression. “Where are you keeping your brass knuckles?”

“I could use some brass knuckles,” Toye sighed, sitting back on his heels.

(Y/n) finished readying her pack and attempted to lift it over her shoulder with a grunt.

“You and me both, Joe,” she gritted, failing the first few tries.

The fourth time, it weighed considerably less, and she was able to wobbly sit it on her shoulder without tipping over. A proud smile grew on her face, but when she turned and saw who was there, her lips formed a fake pout.

“Nix, you know I could’ve done that by myself?”

The officer laughed, his bright smile making an appearance. “Sure, I thought watching you fail three times was enough.”

Realizing he just admitted to watching her, he shifted from foot to foot and cleared his throat. “Two years. Two years of training led us here. Crazy, right?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, looking around at all her fellow soldiers. “I can’t believe it’s been that long.”

“Well, time did seem to crawl by when we were with Sobel.”

“Absolutely. I still remember his dumbfounded face when Luz impersonated Major Horton. It was the best day of my life.”

Vest came by with pamphlets, handing them to every soldier, announcing they were from Colonel Sink.

“George,” (y/n) called. “Can you do Sink?”

“Does a wild bear crap in the woods, son? Uh, sweetheart?” He corrected, cringing. “Doll? Your majesty? Great and mighty (y/n)?”

(Y/n) raised her eyebrows at him, smirking. “Nice try.”

Cracking a smile, he held up the paper and began reading it as the Colonel. “Soldiers of the regiment, tonight is the night-,” his voice lowered, becoming serious as he continued. “-of nights. Today, as you read this, you are en route to the great adventure for which you have trained for over two years.”

The message hung in the air as each paratrooper took it in. They were going to war. The realization washed over (y/n) like a bucket of ice water, and her mind flashed with the faces of the men she’d come to call brothers.

Don, George, Skip, Alex, Frank, Lip…

It could be the last time she saw some of them.

“Hey,” Nix smirked and pointed at the various mohawks Lieb had given some men, oblivious to her anxiety-ridden mind. “I think you should try that hairstyle.”

She rolled her eyes and playfully smacked him on the chest. “Whatever.”

When he didn’t reply, she followed his line of sight to Lieutenant Meehan, who stood atop a jeep. ”Easy Company! Listen up! Gather around me.”

Once Easy was fully gathered, he continued. “Now, the Channel coast is socked in with rain and fog. High winds on the drop zone. No jump tonight!”

Grumbles broke out from the men as they looked at each other in disbelief.

“The invasion has been postponed. We’re on a 24-hour stand-down. Drill sergeants, take charge.”

(Y/n) looked up at Nix as he lit a cigarette, shaking her head with a groan. “Great.”

“What?” He shrugged. “Can’t put up with me for another 24 hours?”

“You know what? You’re insufferable, Nix.”

JUNE 6th, 1944: UPOTTERY AIRFIELD

The channel cleared the next day, and the jump was back on. (Y/n) removed her helmet and grabbed the grease paint from George’s outstretched hand.

“I hate this stuff,” she grumbled, twisting off the cap.

She felt someone take the small can from her hand and recognized the culprit by their low chuckle.

(Y/n) turned to face him with a playful scowl. “Why are you so immature, Lewis?”

“Lewis?” He gasped, a hand flying to his chest. “Oh, I’ve really done it now.”

Her scowl broke as she shoved him lightly. “Shut up.”

“See, I think you’re overthinking this,” he stated, holding up the tin. “All you have to do is get a glob,” he scooped a few fingers into the can. “-And rub it on your face, like so.”

To (y/n)’s dismay, he quickly reached out and smeared the paint down her cheek with a proud smirk.

“See? Voilà.”

Mouth hanging open, she snatched the can from him, hardly concealing her newly formed amused smile. “I hate you,” she deadpanned as she started toward the rest of her platoon.

His hand reached out and grasped her wrist. “Hang on. Let me fix it.”

“Fine,” she huffed.

Lew knew her well enough to see that it was taking all her willpower to keep the corners of her lips from curling into a smile. He thought it was an admirable attempt, but he could see straight through her.

What he didn’t expect was her glare to drop completely when he lightly tugged her closer by her wrist. An unreadable expression passed over her face, and Lew discovered he might not be able to read her as well as he thought.

Peering down at her, he softly brushed her (y/h/c) flyaways from her face before leaning down to be at eye level with her. (Y/n)’s breath hitched slightly at the gentle touch, and she looked up to meet his eyes.

“Don’t make me look like a raccoon, okay?” She whispered, nervousness flowing through her veins.

With a nod, he got some paint on a few fingers and cupped her jaw with his other hand before making lines across her forehead and cheeks. Tilting her face up softly, his touch trailed down her nose down to her lips. Nix’s gaze stayed there for a moment, swallowing thickly as he noticed their curve and the slight pout they were shaped in.

‘It would be so easy to lean in and…stop,’ he caught himself.

“Uh, all done,” he murmured, dropping his hands to his pockets.

(Y/n) blinked, coming down from the high of his touch. “Thank you,” she replied, her gaze locked with his. “Do you need any help with yours?”

Snapping out of his daze, he smiled bashfully. “I’ve got it.”

A few seconds later, Dick approached them, all geared up and ready to go. “It’s time.”

D-Day had begun.

Staring at the solemn faces of Skip and George across from her, the endless possibilities of what could go wrong flooded her mind as her stomach began to churn.

What if their stick blew up?

What if she was captured?

What if she was killed?

(Y/n) looked up at the sleeping man beside her, admiring his face in the dim light of the plane. Her eyes followed the curve of his nose down to his parted lips as soft breaths passed through them. Even covered in grease in a dark C-47, he was still breathtaking.

What if he was killed?

When they first met in that putrid-smelling mess hall in Toccoa, (y/n) never would have guessed what would become of the pair. The mysterious aura that first drew her to him was quickly wiped away after a few months, revealing a kind, but complicated, man who was sometimes too smart for his own good.

He was there to vent to when Captain Sobel revoked her weekend pass because her hair was “too long,” and was simply always there to support her. Through the new COs, new bases, and even new countries, he’d been a constant. Over the last two years, he’d been there for her, and she realized that if anything happened to him, she wouldn’t know what to do.

Sure, she was close with the other men in Easy, especially 2nd platoon, but those relationships were… different. Her heart didn’t skip a beat when George Luz or Chuck Grant walked into a room. Their smile didn’t cause heat to rush to her cheeks.

He was her best friend. There was no other way to describe it.

But do best friends look at each other the way they do?

Her thoughts continued to run rampant for the next hour as the paratroopers got closer to their destination. To her left, Tab was deep in thought, as well, pulling at his bottom lip as he usually did when thinking. Pulling herself from her thoughts, (y/n) nudged him with her shoulder.

“So, I heard you got a present from home.”

He dropped his hand to his lap and grinned as he fished something from his bag. “Yeah, courtesy of the Kokomo police department.”

Floyd showed her the revolver with a proud expression. “It feels good to have a little bit of home with me.”

“That’s great, Tab. I’m glad you’ve got support like that from home.”

“What did your folks have to say about you joining up?” He asked.

(Y/n) took a deep breath before answering, willing the memory from her mind. “They weren’t thrilled, that’s for sure.”

He elbowed her side gently with a chuckle. “Well, we’re all real glad you decided to join this mess. Who else is gonna keep all of us straight?”

Laughing to herself, (y/n) leaned her helmet back against the rumbling wall of the plane, wishing sleep would welcome her soon. Her eyes shot open after a few minutes when the aircraft shook with turbulence. Nausea crept up her throat at the movement, and she groaned at the realization she wasn’t going to get any rest.

Time seemed to stretch on forever sitting on the hard metal seat of the plane. Some of the other men started to rouse and have small conversations around her, but all she could think about was her parents. Could they stand to lose another child?

Tears burned her eyes as her mind replayed the moment they heard the news about Pearl Harbor and her brother’s fate. Her mother’s wails when she collapsed onto the floor beside the radio. The deep ache in her chest didn’t seem to go away with time, and she doubted it ever would.

(Y/n) was pulled from her thoughts by a gentle hand on her shaking knee.

“You’re gonna be okay, (y/n/n).”

Lew.

“Yeah,” she sighed, furiously blinking away her tears. “I’m not worried about myself, though.”

“Don’t worry about me, alright? Stay focused on yourself.”

(Y/n) smirked and raised an eyebrow. “What made you think I was worried about you, mister ‘yale know-it-all?’”

At that moment, Nixon was thankful for the dark plane, for she couldn’t see the flush that crept across his cheeks. “Only by the kind way you speak to me,” he retorted, rolling his eyes.

Within seconds, his face became serious. “But I mean it, (y/n). Please be careful.”

“I will, Lew. You too, okay?” She replied, grasping his hand atop her knee.

Their conversation was cut short by the red light flashing on beside Dick. Nodding at each other, they prepared for what was about to happen.

“Get ready!” Lieutenant Winters yelled above the rumble of the plane. “Stand up! Hook Up! Equipment check!”

Following orders, they stood, hooked up, and started checking their helmets, followed by pulling on the harnesses of those in front of them. George stood between Nix and (y/n) in line, separating the pair.

“Don’t enjoy this too much,” George jeered back to her as she checked his equipment.

Through his humor, she could see the fear that each of them felt.

Dick’s voice filled the plane again. “Sound off for equipment check!”

“Ten okay!”

“Nine okay!”

“Eight okay!”

“Seven okay!”

Hearing her heartbeat in her ears, (y/n) attempted to push her fear deep down.

“Six okay!” Chuck yelled, tapping her on the shoulder.

(Y/n) repeated the motion for George, shouting. “Five okay,”

“Four okay!”

“Three okay!”

“Two okay!”

“One okay!” Winters finished, looking out the jump door.

Within seconds, the cloud cover dissipated, and explosions filled the air, violently tilting the plane sideways. (Y/n) lost her balance and fell back onto her seat with a curse. Luckily, Chuck grabbed her harness and hoisted her back on her feet in front of him.

As the plane continued to shake beneath their feet, she looked through the small window at the stick beside them just in time to see it get hit and go down in flames. Her mouth went dry at the sight, and she prayed that they wouldn’t share the same fate.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Someone yelled at the back of the plane.

Lip turned behind him. “Does that light look green to you?”

The man didn’t get to respond as gunfire ripped through the plane, peppering him with shrapnel.

“I’m hit!”

Among the chaos, the green light flicked on, and Winters called out to them. “Let’s go!”

Without hesitation, he jumped out the door, followed by Gene, Lew, and George. Following Luz, (y/n) didn’t even look before pushing herself out the door.

The first thing she felt was the wind whipping at her equipment as she fell through the air. Anti-aircraft shells exploded around her, adding to the deafening cacophony surrounding her. Explosions, screams, gunfire…it was a sound she’d never forget.

Even with her parachute deployed, the ground was fast approaching. To her panic, she couldn’t see her DZ anywhere. To make matters even worse, the wind guided her toward the dense forest instead of one of the many open fields surrounding her. She tried to pull up on the risers to change her direction, but it was too late. Within seconds, she flew into the tall European oak trees she tried so desperately to avoid.

All air left her lungs as she slammed into a tree, sending her falling through the branches. The sound of snapping wood filled her ears and she hissed at the sharp stings that covered her body as she fell.

With a jolt, her descent was abruptly stopped, causing her to swing into a nearby trunk with a thwack. (Y/n) groaned at the impact, feeling pain seep into her already bruised and battered body.

“Great,” she hissed, looking up at the tangled chute. “Of course, I landed in a freaking forest.”

Seeing she was only a few feet off the ground, (y/n) let out a sigh of relief and reached for her knife. When she looked down, she cursed at the missing bag that was supposed to be attached to her leg.

‘At least I didn’t put anything important in there,’ she thought.

The (y/h/c) quickly cut herself free of the chute and fell through the air again, landing on her feet with a wince. Even though she couldn’t see herself, she knew she had to look rough. The stinging from various cuts and scratches torso, arms, and legs were a dead giveaway to her appearance.

Pulling out her M1, she quietly made her way to a clearing better illuminated by the moon. She stayed near the edge, wary of being seen, and used her compass and map to try and figure out where she was. After a few minutes, she discovered she was a few miles west of the rally point. Just as she was about to move, a drip of red on her map stole her attention. (Y/n) took off her helmet and began to run a shaky hand through her grimy hair when a sharp pain flared from her temple, making her groan at the searing sensation. Pulling her hand away, she gasped to see it covered in dark red.

The paratrooper quickly grabbed a bandage and gritted her teeth, tying it the best she could.

“Head wounds bleed the most,” Doc Roe had said in a medic seminar. “You’re gonna go through bandages quick.”

She gently placed the helmet back on her head and took a deep breath. “You can do this, (y/n),” she muttered under her breath as she started moving east toward the rally point. “You can do it.”

She’d made it to the ground, but she wasn’t out of the woods, yet.

D-Day Plus Three: Sainte-Mère-Eglise, France

Since Nix finally made it to Sainte-Mère-Eglise on June 7th, his eyes searched the crowd for one face. Every day, he kept a constant check on who arrived and who they’d seen or heard from, and for two days, he couldn’t rest.

On the third day, he overheard some men from the 82nd.

“Did you see the broad?”

On instinct, he rushed out of the makeshift company CP onto the street filled with exhausted paratroopers, ignoring the concerned looks from the men as he quickly made his way to the front of the town.

“Thank God,” he whispered, seeing her wobbly figure from a distance.

Her downcast eyes didn’t see him approach as she dragged her feet in the mud, too tired to even pick them up.

“You’re late to the party,” Lew chuckled, trying to mask his relief.

Despite the ringing pain in her head, her eyes shot up to meet his. When their gazes met, she let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. He made it.

A tired smile grew on her blood and dirt-covered face. “Nice to see you, too, Lew.”

Extending his arm out to her, Nix pulled her into a tight embrace. It was like his mind needed physical reassurance she was there.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he murmured into her helmet.

Leaning into his chest, she let the rhythm of his heart calm her fear. Even in a warzone, she felt safe in his arms. “I was worried about you, too.”

A chuckle reverberated through his chest. “So you were worried about me, huh?”

Pulling back to look at him, (y/n) smirked. “I take it back.”

His playful expression changed to concern as he noticed her pale face and the blood beneath her helmet. “Hey, what happened? You’re bleeding.”

(Y/n) ducked her head to the side. “I’m fine, Lew. Really.”

“Come on, let me see,” he urged, gently unclasping her helmet.

A hiss left him, seeing the blood-soaked cloth haphazardly tied around her head.

“(Y/n),” he sighed, one hand tilting her jaw to see the wound while the other peeled back the bandage. The gash ran from her right temple to just above her ear. “This is deep. You’re gonna need stitches. Let’s go to the aid station.”

His tender touch left her speechless. “Ok-okay,” she whispered, following him to the medic tent.

The coppery smell of blood hit her like a ton of bricks the second she entered the tent. Men were lying on cots, missing limbs, and crying in agony. (Y/n) froze, unable to tear her gaze from the carnage before her. A guiding hand on the small of her back urged her to keep walking.

“Come on, (y/n/n). This way,” Lew muttered.

He led her into another tent that was less crowded and sat her down on a nearby cot. “I’ll go find Doc. Stay here.”

Laying back on the cot, (y/n) allowed her body to fully relax for the first time in almost three days. Soreness gnawed at her muscles, leaving behind a dull ache that drained all of her energy. Within a few minutes, her eyes began to droop, and sleep finally welcomed her.

“She’s in here,” Lew said, Doc Roe in tow. “She’s got a nasty cut on her head.”

The cajun nodded. “Alright, I’ll take a look. You know head wounds bleed a lot.”

Walking into the room, their expressions softened at her curled-up form on the cot. “Is it okay if she sleeps,” Nix asked, crouching next to her.

Grimacing, Roe shook his head. “I really should check her head, sir.”

With a nod, Lew gently shook her shoulder. “Hey, (y/n/n). Doc’s here to check your head.”

She weakly groaned and sat up slowly. “I think I could sleep for a week.”

Chuckling, Gene held his index finger up in front of her face. “Follow my finger.”

After a few seconds, he sighed, grabbing a suture kit from his satchel. “Doesn’t look like you have a concussion, but that cut’ll need stitches.”

Roe carefully cleaned the wound as (y/n)’s eyes screwed shut. “You ready?” He asked.

Keeping her eyes closed, her hand shot out beside her, grasping onto Nixon’s hand tightly. “Lew, please talk to me. Say anything, I don’t care, just talk.”

He squeezed her hand in response as she let out a hiss when the first suture pulled through her split skin.

“When I was in college…”

With Lewis Nixon’s warm and reassuring hand in hers, along with his distracting words, the pain became bearable. In the small medic tent in Sainte-Mère-Eglise, Eugene smiled to himself, witnessing the intimate moment between the two.

“Ce sont des idiots.” He muttered to himself. “Des idiots en mal d’amour.”

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 8 months

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Band of Brothers - The Terror AU, Continued

A continuation of this post

Tagging people who were interested in this - if you want to be added or removed just let me know!

@fearlessjones @kaikai1324 @antoniaminor @runn0ft

Denver 'Bull' Randleman and John Martin serve as Ice Masters on the HMS Erebus and Terror respectively. They are both experienced, having been on multiple Arctic expeditions before, often alongside each other, and as a result are held in high esteem by the rest of the crew. The pair trust each other more than they will ever trust a commander, as only they fully understand how dangerous the ice can be. Martin holds the ear of Captain Winters, who faithfully follows his advice. In contrast, Randleman finds Captain Sobel to be often dismissive of his knowledge. Still, he finds an eager audience in young Royal Marine Privates Garcia, Miller, and Hashey, who are all experiencing their first Naval posting and have never seen how badly an expedition such as this can turn.

Aboard the Terror, the Royal Marines are commanded by Sergeant Bill Guarnere, who - alongside Corporal Chuck Grant and Private Edward Heffron - keeps largely to himself. The Marines are somewhat isolated from the rest of the crew, as they are the only men on board permitted to arm themselves, and lack the naval experience boasted of by the others. However, as it becomes more and more evident that the Terror and Erebus will not be unstuck from the ice any time soon, with more and more men lost to the mysterious Tuunbaq with each passing day, the marines find themselves thrust into the limelight by the rest of the crew, who view them as key to their survival.

On the HMS Erebus, Sergeant Darrell Powers and Corporal Donald Hoobler find their loyalty to their commanders jeopardised as their chances of salvation grow ever slimmer. Shifty struggles to come to terms with his shifting allegiances as Sobel's ineffective leadership and Nixon's declining health put them at a disadvantage, and the Royal Marines begin to ally themselves across the two ships, both bringing together the crews and setting them further apart than ever before.

Roy Cobb does not believe in his leaders. He is here because he had no option, driven by a lack of wealth and education - caulking was never supposed to be his life's work, and he won't pretend to be happy about his position. When the crew find themselves stranded in the ice, he grows ever more bitter at the state of affairs, and as the rest of the crew begin to realise the severity of their situation, people begin to listen to Cobb's complaints - they let him speak his discontent where they once dismissed it with a roll of the eyes. He finds himself holding more influence than he has ever had before, and will use this newfound power to his advantage no matter what damage it could do to others.

Other crewmates:

Robert 'Popeye' Wynn - Boatswain, HMS Terror

Floyd Talbert - Carpenter, HMS Terror

Donald Malarkey - Engineer, HMS Terror

Pat Christenson - Quartermaster, HMS Terror

Frank Perconte - Blacksmith, HMS Terror

Joe Toye - Leading Stoker, HMS Terror

Alex Penkala - Ship's Cook, HMS Terror

Albert Blithe - Seaman, HMS Terror - Found infirm and returned to England from the Whalefish Islands

John Hall -Seaman, HMS Terror - One of the sailors who died and was buried on Beechey Island on the way to the Passage

Ralph Spina - Head surgeon, HMS Erebus

Warren 'Skip' Muck - Carpenter, HMS Erebus

Joseph Liebgott - Engineer, HMS Erebus

Walter 'Smokey' Gordon - Caulker, HMS Erebus

George Luz - Leading Stoker, HMS Erebus

(When assigning characters' roles among each ship, I tried to consider the pre- and post-war professions of the real-life veterans, applying these skills as best I could to the positions aboard each ship - for example, Alex Penakala worked as a cook before the war, and Joe Toye worked in a coal mine, hence his position stoking the steam engines.)

#bob terror au #band of brothers #the terror #the terror amc #bull randleman #johnny martin #antonio garcia #james miller #lester hashey #bill guarnere #chuck grant #babe heffron #shifty powers #don hoobler #roy cobb #easy company

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1waveshortofashipwreck · 3 months

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hi!!! 🩷 i've been a lurker for a little while but i LOVEEE your writing and when i saw you were doing ship requests i just had to send in an ask. if ship requests are closed though, totally feel free to ignore this hehe

i'm a female (she/her), my charm point is probably my thicker eyebrows and my personal/dress style is androgynous but leaning a little towards masculine. my myers-briggs is ISTP, i'm a bit of a realist but i love making people laugh and i'm quite laidback. for weaknesses, i can be stubborn at times and get a little too defensive. but in terms of personal strengths, i'm crafty, loyal, the dad friend, and a tough egg to crack. i like living slow, so a few of my hobbies include art, lounging around, and visiting new places :)

my love language is probably physical touch first and words of affirmation second. i'm not picky about looks, but i'd like someone reliable, someone who would be there through thick and thin. they'd probably also be as laid back as i am...i wouldn't mind someone who puts me on a pedestal gomez addams style hehehe. i'm fine with any of the boys, but a few of my faves from bob include bull, toye, luz, and malarkey!

thank you so much for opening up ur requests and i cant wait to read what you write next!!! 🩷🩷🩷

AAAAAA thank you so much for the kind words anon!! I’m sorry this took so long lmao 😅 Thank you for requesting and hope you're having a great day!!

I ship you with…

George Luz! What would we do without George Luz!

A song from my liked songs that reminds me of y’all - A Kind of Magic by Queen

How you met

Ok so I picture you being an NCO in Luz’s platoon

Very much have the respect of your men and they would follow you off a cliff if that’s where you were going

In Taccoa with Luz first saw you he was just

In absolute awe

The way you handled Sobel’s bullshit while keeping up the morale of your men just… He was in love with you from day 1 but he never acknowledges it, he just thinks he really admires you

Also he loved having someone else to joke with and banter, he’d never admit it but in places like Eindhoven and Bastogne Luz felt a weight lifted off his shoulders, like, he wasn’t the only one trying to make the others laugh to help them through it

So y’all get to the Eagle’s Nest and you and George are sharing a bottle of wine on a couch just vibing and having a lovely time

And then quietly Luz asks “what do you think you’ll do when we get home?”

Then you realize that you and George aren’t gonna be together every day forever

“I’m honestly not sure George, what about you?”

“Well I’m probably gonna go back to Rhode Island, but I’d love to bring a certain someone back with me…”

“...you mean that?”

“Of course I do.”

This whole time your voices are getting quieter and y’all are leaning closer to each other until finally your lips touch and holy moly both of y’all are on tOP OF THE WORLD

How he knew he loves you

Ok so I know he said he’s in love with you from day 1 but goofy boy Has No Idea

Sure he realizes he has a crush on you at the Eagle’s Nest but he still has a ways to go lol

So you two are in your apartment on a lazy saturday just relaxing and doing your own things

You’re doing some drawing on the couch and you don’t see Luz just PLOP and glue himself to you

The two of you start laughing and you try (not really) to push him off but you both wind up laying on the couch him spooning you close and tight and you both just feel so happy and safe

And Luz just realizes… this is where he wants to be

Not necessarily on the couch (even though y’all’s couch is mega comfy) but just goofing around with you and snuggling you and talking about everything under the sun

So he turns you around in his arms and looks into your eyes and

“You’re my best friend, I’m in love with you”

And in that moment everything is just Perfect

A conflict and how y’all resolve it

So both of y’all have had hard times at work recently

Nothing too awful, just a bunch of little things and they’ve been piling up for both of y’all

So Luz just got home and went to the kitchen to get you and him a couple glasses of water

And you just hear a glass break followed by a “shit!”

You go into the kitchen and see George trying to sweep up all the glass with a hand broom and dust pan

You crouch down to help him but inadvertently let an aggravated sigh slip past your lips

“I didn’t do this on purpose y’know…” George mutters to you

“I never said you did?”

The two of you start bickering and it grows into something that has you both yelling at each other over you don’t even know what

You go to grumpily put the broken glass in the trash but accidentally get a small cut on your hand in the process

Of course now it’s your turn to shout “shit!” and you make your way over to the sink

George just grows quiet and follows you

He gently takes your hand away from the cut and wordlessly starts cleaning and bandaging the cut for you

“I’m really sorry about all that, work has just been shit this week, every day it feels like there’s something new going on,” his voice is almost a whisper, but you can still detect the sadness and regret

“I’m sorry too… work hasn’t been great for me either…”

You both just quietly vent what’s been going on at your jobs and it ends with Luz engulfing you in one of his trademark Hugs

“I love you so much doll,” he says before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead

The two of you spend the rest of the night just holding each other and watching a funny movie in peace

Your Happily Ever After

Y’all are just the epitome of being with your best friend

You’re always doing things together and it becomes so silly and SO CUTE

It could be anything from being on a fancy dinner date and starting a food fight to playing pranks on each other at home

Like even grocery shopping y’all will just… turn it into this hilarious, wholesome chaos that only comes from being soulmates with someone on your wavelength

Also you two ALWAYS go out together, like, all your friends know they’re getting both of you or neither of you and it’s adorable

Like, everything y’all do with each other is just so easy (heheheheh)

Even when you have the worst days you’re able to fall into each other’s arms and it’s just a breath of fresh air

A silly headcanon about your relationship

Ok so

Y’all talk on the phone to your Easy Boys all the time

But on more than one occasion they’ve mixed up y’all’s voices

Like you’ll pick up the phone and Malarkey will just “Hey George!” without missing a beat

So now y’all have made it into a game

Whenever one of you picks up the phone and it’s an old Easy Buddy you both purposefully try to imitate each other and both of you just get an absolute kick out of it

Perconte has been the only one so far to see through it but everyone else is totally clueless

It backfired a little when you were on the phone and Guarnere went “so how’s engagement ring shopping going?” but that’s another topic for another day

Aaaaa I hope you like it Anon!! Please don't be afraid to message me telling me you saw this lol, I know the feeling of submitting an anon ask and then forgetting about it 🤣 Thank you again for requesting love!! ✨

#band of brothers #band of brothers ship #hbo #hbo war #easy company #ask #anon #george luz #emily shut up #making waves

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sergeant-spoons · 1 year

Text

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.

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mccall-muffin · 2 years

Text

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.

#Band of Brothers #Joe Liebgott x OC #Joe Liebgott #Joseph Liebgott #Don Malarkey #George Luz #Joe Toye #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Part 8 #ww2 #hbowar #hbo series #bobedit #bob

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marycorleone · 2 years

Text

Spanking — Joe Liebgott X Reader

You and Joe were only recently engaged, but everyone knew that the first woman to become a skydiver and the Jew were in love, as this has always been visible.

You were with Chuck and the other boys in the car. They were taking you to meet Joe Liebgott. The three chatted excitedly about Bill Guarnere, who had advanced on a soldier and asked which side he was on. Suddenly Grant saw a frightening scene and stopped the car. A soldier of Company I was distraught, and wandered around talking to himself with a gun in his hand.

You got out of the car and went there. Chuck went after you.

– Y/N!

You didn't pay attention, just running until you approached your colleague.

They didn't want to give me gas! I think this one was major! - He said pointing with the gun in the direction of a fallen man.

- You are crazy? Killed an officer!

The man turned towards him, and you smelled a strong smell of alcohol. His uniform was all messed up, and all that made him look terrifying. The man took aim at you and approached.

– I think I'll just use their jeep. After all, they won't use it anymore. Come with me doll?

- Don't touch me! – You screamed, but it was in vain.

The man jumped on you and knocked you to the ground, making the beautiful dress you put on only to find your fiancé smeared all over with mud.

– Drop it! – Chuck yelled.

You tried to break free and started to cry, and the man was still on top of you.

- You're with her?

– She is Joe Liebgott's girlfriend. – Chuck replied.

Hearing this he got up, still clinging to you.

– Then I take you to him.

– We have a problem here. Let her go and give me your weapon. - Asked Chuck.

The man turned with you and let you go, but he shot Chuck in the head and drove away in the jeep, leaving you desperate. The boys got out of the jeep and ran to Chuck Grant. They put him in the car and went to the doctor. When they got there they took him to the doctor's office, and Bull Randleman was standing there smoking a cigar. Beside him was his great love, Joe.

– Y/N? What happened?

– Joe, it was awful! A drunk man had killed some people on the way because they didn't give him their gas!

– Oh fuck! - Bull exclaimed.

– And what happened to you? – Liebgott asked, looking at his dirty clothes.

– I got out of the car and tried to understand what was happening. That's when he grabbed me and threw me to the ground! Chuck was driving, and I tried to ask him to let me go and hand over the gun. He explained that I had a boyfriend, and the man said he would bring me here. But instead of letting me go, he shot Chuck in the head!

– Son of a bitch!

Grant was in the doctor's office with his head bandaged. Suddenly Talbert left the room giving orders to everyone to position themselves strategically and find the bastard. Preferably alive.

- Talb, he tried to rape Y/N. He wanted to take her by force. Chuck tried to save her and let her know she's with me, so the little shit shot. - Said Lieb.

- Don't worry. I'm going to take Y/N to a room upstairs. – Talbert said. Then he turned to you. – Come with me Y/N, I'll take care of you until Joe comes back.

You were shaky and afraid to let Joe go, but he made sure to find the man.

– It's going to be okay, my love. I'll be right back.

Talbert left you in a room with some soldiers, and then you heard the cars leaving. Hours later nobody knew what had happened to Chuck, and you were crying a lot, afraid your friend had died because of you. You remembered Sobel saying that women in War would only get in the way, and you felt like the worst of people.

It was then that Luz and Talbert entered the room and asked the other soldiers to leave.

– What happened to Chuck? - You asked.

– We don't know. But the bastard is here. We need you to recognize it.

You felt a pain in your stomach from nervousness, and then Bull Randleman and Joe Liebgott came in carrying the man.

They sat him in a chair and tied his hands behind him. The man looked at you and you burst into tears, reliving the despair of hours before.

- It's him? - Asked Joe.

- Yes. – You confirmed.

- Motherfucker! How dare you touch my fiancée?!

Liebgott punched the man in the face, which made him groan in pain. Then more men came in, and Joe asked Bull to take you outside. Luz and Talbert stayed with you outside the room. The two men played cards, while it was possible to hear the punches, slaps and curses, in the torture session that took place in the room.

An hour passed, and Talbert said he was going to get it over with because he couldn't stand the groans of the man in the chair any longer. It was then that Ronald Speirs arrived furious.

- Where is he?

Luz still tried to calm him down, but Speirs yelled loudly.

- WHERE IS HE?

The three of you stood up, and Speirs understood that the man would be in the room. He went in there and you followed him.

You saw everyone around the chair, and Joe holding the man by the collar and yelling curses at him. The man's face was bloodied, so were his eyes which were also purple. His mouth was dripping with blood, and the man looked like he was drowning. His shirt had a huge bloodstain on it.

Seeing Speirs arrive, Joe got off the man and let him approach.

- It's him? – Asked Speirs.

– Substitute. Company I. – Bull replied.

Speirs looked at the man.

– Where's the gun?

– What weapon?

Speirs slammed the gun into the face of the man tied to the chair. The blow made him cough up blood, and Bull and the others were visibly uncomfortable.

– When talking to an officer say "Sir"!

Speirs had the man taken to the Military Police. Talbert asked if Chuck was dead.

– The German surgeon said he will live.

You were hugging Joe, and when the boys pulled the man out and took him away, the two of you hugged each other tight and smiled.

- It's all right. I am here. – He said comforting you and putting his hands on your cheeks.

– Thank you for being with me Joe. I love you!

I apologize for the spelling errors. I started studying English recently, and I still don't master the language. If you see any errors, send me a message. Comment if you like. 💜

#band of brothers #bill guarnere #fiction #imagine your otp #chuck grant #bull randleman #x y/n #joe liebgott

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multifandomlover01 · 2 years

Text

The Darts Game (George Luz x Female!Medic!Reader)

George x Female!Medic!Reader and a little bit of Buck x reader as well thrown in there for the heck of it

Disclaimer: I do not own Band of Brothers, any characters or scenes from the show. All credits go to the appropriate people (actors, writers, producers, directors, etc.)

Key: Y/N/N = Your nickname

Word count: ~1.3k

Warning: cringe (but it’s basically intentional, I know how bad it is, I think it’s funny)

Note: I am aware of how cringe this is, it’s all in good fun and I think it’s really funny. Also, enjoy my notes as I didn’t take them out and I think they add to the fun

You walked into the pub and went unnoticed at first (as it was busy, full of soldiers and activity). You made your way into it a bit further. Then you heard a wolf whistle (plausible for time period?). After surveying for a few seconds, you located the source: George Luz.

“Oh, stop,” you called out to him (said a specific way, but for the life of me I can’t describe it…sexy is all I come up with…but is that specific enough?).

He, and the group of men around him (Buck, Toye, Bull and Johnny?), laughed.

You made your way over to them.

George beamed at you.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

“You look nice.”

“As do you. You all look very nice in your service uniforms.”

“Yeah, well, it’s really only the second (?) opportunity we’ve had to wear them, and the first after combat. But you, look extraordinary, especially your hair.”

He took some of it in his hand for a second before letting it fall out if it (would it be down; curled? Or up? It would look nice up, and time period wise it should be up; idk; this is fiction, who cares?). It was innocent enough, so you let him do it.

“Thank you. I’m just glad to have it out of that horrid bun Sobel makes me wear it in so it’s “regulation”. I considered having Liebgott cut it, but then I’m sure Sobel would still make a fuss about it, so I just kept it.” [sorry this is kinda thrown in here with no context, but I just had this idea that of a woman had longer hair, Sobel would either make her cut it (more plausible) or make her wear it in a bun that’s like a modern one that women in the military wear today…I think]

“Your hair looks great in the bun, too. But it does really look exceptional like this.”

“Hey, Y/N/N, what’re the odds of any of us getting lucky tonight?” Toye asked you.

“With me?”

He nodded.

You laughed, “yeah, that’s not happening.”

“Really? None of us has a chance with you?” Luz asked you. Was he sad?

“Really,” you confirmed, “what’re you fellas doing?”

“Just playing a friendly game of darts.”

“Friendly? You took my smokes!” A red headed private you didn’t immediately recognize exclaimed.

“You bet on ‘em,” Buck defended.

“You tricked me!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what’s this now?”

“We...may have...put on a little bit of a show,” Luz admitted shyly.

“What kind of show?”

“Buck pretended to be bad at darts by using his left hand. So the kid got cocky and thought he could beat him, so he agreed to bet his smokes when they played another game. Then Luz called Buck out on the hand and Buck beat him and got his smokes,” Toye explained.

“That’s not very nice.”

“Well, that’s just how it goes sometimes.”

“Mind if I play? I win, you give the kid his smokes back?”

“Sure, give it your best shot, sweetheart.”

“Buck, why don’t you go first?”

“No ladies first?”

“Throw, Buck,” you said putting his darts on his chest. He took them, your hands brushing against each other. Luz looked at Buck with jealousy. (god, I hate myself, why am I writing this?!)

“Yes, ma’am.”

He went and did pretty well. None hit the bullseye, but one got close.

Luz held your darts out for you.

“Thank you,” you said as you took them, your hands brushing against each other a bit (purposely). (Geez, really?!)

“You’re quite welcome,” that stupid grin adorning his face.

I went and all three hit the bullseye (pretend it’s possible if it’s not; idk, I don’t play darts).

“Whoa, where’d ya learn how to do that?”

“Well, when sticking morphine syrettes (or IVs) into people is part of your job, you kind of have to have good aim. And lucky for you boys, I do. Now, give the kid his smokes back.”

Buck did so.

“Now, what do you want?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You won. But you didn’t get anything.”

“How about a kiss on the cheek?”

“Excuse me?”

You patted your finger against your cheek.

“Pay up, Buck.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Buck pecked you quickly on the cheek. Luz looked at Buck with jealousy once again.

Toye and Buck drifted away.

“Hey, thank you for winning my smokes back for me. I’m not sure they would’ve let me try to win them back myself or if I even would’ve been able to.”

“You’re welcome, uh, I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.”

“Uh, Private Edward (would he tell me his first name?) Heffron, but you can call me Babe.”

“E-excuse me?”

“I-I meant, I, uh, everyone calls me Babe. It’s a nickname. I wasn’t implying that you alone could call me Babe.”

He was getting flustered. His face (don’t do it) was almost as red as (stop) his hair (oh my god).

You squeezed his arm.

“Hey, relax kid. Welcome to Easy Company, you’re new?”

“Yes, ma’am, just joined.”

“Good luck, then.”

“Thank you, ma’am, I’m sure I’m in good hands.”

He went to join what you assumed were more replacements that he’d gotten friendly with already.

You turned around to see that Luz was still there. He smiled at you. You smiled back. An idea came to you.

“Hey, George?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna play darts against me?”

“Sure? What’re the stakes?”

“I win, you kiss me.”

“I win, you have a drink with me.”

“Shouldn’t this be reversed?”

“Why don’t we just skip the darts game?”

“No. I wanna play.”

“Oh, alright,” he pouted.

You went first and all three darts hit the bullseye.

“You really are good at that,” he whispered in your ear. You could feel his breath on your neck. (Why? Really, why?)

George was right behind you, closer than he should be. You moved forward, away from him, to retrieve your darts, sauntering a little bit to tease him. His face when you turned around proved that it had worked. (God, why?!) You made your way back to him, with him watching you with every step.

He then went. One dart hit the bullseye and two got pretty close.

He went to kiss you even though you had won when you put your finger on his lips, which he kissed. You pulled it away.

“Best two out of three.”

“That’s not how that works?”

“It is now.”

“Do you not want to kiss me?”

You threw the darts again and got three close to the bullseye, but none hit it.

He threw them and one hit the bullseye again and two got close.

He went to leave, presumably to get the drinks, when you stopped him.

“Best two out of three,” you reminded him.

He huffed.

You went and none hit the bullseye again.

He went and none hit the bullseye either.

“Well, we both won once. Guess we kiss,” you pressed your lips to his briefly, “and we drink.”

“No tie breaker?”

“Nope.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“It is now.”

You led him to the counter.

“One bottle of wine and two glasses, obviously, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

George went to pay, but you stoped him.

“I am a gentleman, I’m not gonna let you pay.”

“But you won. This is your prize. I’m paying.”

You paid and the two of you settled into a secluded booth. You sat very close to each other.

“Don’t pretend both prizes weren’t beneficial to both of us. We both know we both wanted to kiss each other and we both know we both wanted to have a drink together.” (Geez did I really need to use the word both so much?)

“You may be right.”

“I am right.”

He opened the glass and poured you both drinks.

“Cheers,” George held up his glass.

“Cheers,” you clinked yours to his and you drank.

You drank a couple of glasses each. You both got quite tipsy. Maybe even a little too much.

[yo, what direction do you wanna go in? You already hate yourself for what you’ve written already here, so why not continue on with the cringe, eh?]

#george luz x reader #buck compton x reader #kinda #band of brothers x reader

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floralfloyd · 2 years

Text

Wish Me Luck

A small blurb surrounding Sargent Elizabeth Welsh.

Lines and lines of GMC trucks, as far as the eyes could see. Men clad in their Class A's, a sea of khaki as they loaded belongings up onto the back of the trucks. Chatter filled the young Sargeants ears as her boots clicked on the duckboards, her bag slung over her shoulder. All her belongings packed away, her whole life compacted into a cylindrical bag that she might not even get to see for weeks, possibly months. Luz's voice pulled her from her thoughts. "Is that mascara I see upon your eyelashes, Seargent Welsh? How do you propose to slay the Huns with mascara obscuring your eyesight?" His classic impression of Captain Sobel always earned a soft laugh as she elbowed the dark-haired radio operator. "Oh, come on, Luz! Have to seduce those Germans somehow, was thinking of adding a little red lipstick to my lips and quirking my hip out to attract their attention while you boys fire at them" she smirked, her shoulders soon relaxing as the weight was quickly relieved, passing her bag to Bull so he could place it with the others. But before George could answer her, another voice interjected into the conversation. "Thought I told you that I don't want you flirting with everything that walks while you're here, kiddo." Elizabeth couldn't help but feel herself grin wide at the voice. She would recognize it anywhere. "Harry!" She turned around to greet the smaller male as he stood with a cheeky grin on his face. "I thought I'd gotten shot of you back at the start of training. What's this?" Her eyes turned to the bar that sat upon his cap. The metal glinting in the Georgia sun. "It seems that the Airborne have found me fit to be an officer, I know, crazy, right?" He bumped shoulders with her, simply smiling at the growing pairs of curious eyes that observed the interaction. The brunette patted his shoulder, a proud smile upon her lips. Seeing her older brother for the first time in almost two years was definitely something she was going to cherish. The two had last seen each other at the train station, Elizabeth training at Toccoa while Harry was sent to Fort Benning. "I wouldn't let you lead me into the kitchen back home, nevermind into combat, but seriously, I'm proud of you, and no doubt you've already been gassing off to Kitty through your letters" she shook her head as she leaned her back against the truck "so you've been transferred to the 101st? Just my luck, does that mean I have to call you sir?" "Exactly, just your luck, Easy Company too. 1st Platoon, you wouldn't happen to be 1st too?" Harry liked the idea of having the upper hand over his sibling but also because he would be able to play the protective big brother card if anyone tried fraternizing. Her short curls shook as she moved her head. "You're out of luck, 2nd Platoon, but you can keep a distant eye on me. I know your internal thinkings, Harry Francis Welsh." Brother and sister, they were, but as twins, they thought. The bond the two had concocted through childhood and many rainy days had them thinking similar thoughts and able to decipher what the other was thinking. They truly cared for each other. "Welsh! Are you joining us? Chuck's saved you a seat," the small Jew called out, he may have been small, but his voice definitely carried. Turning to answer Joe, Elizabeth glanced up to the truck to see that Chuck Grant had procured a spot beside him on the uncomfortable wooden bench. Her cheeks heated up at the gesture. "Just give me a sec, Lieb" turning back to her brother, the young girl leaned forward to give him a hug. "No doubt I'll see you on the train or even when we get to our destination, so at least this is not goodbye." Harry smiled as he relished the hug of his sister. "Don't cause too much trouble, don't want to have to put you on latrine duty, Sargent Welsh." Over her shoulder, the brunette laughed and replied, "Of course not, Lieutenant Welsh, sir" with that, her dainty hand met that of Bill Guarnere's as he pulled her up onto the back of the GMC. "Glad you could join us, doll."

#The ballad of Lizzie and Chuck #Elizabeth Welsh #Lizzie Welsh #band of brothers #band of sisters #OFC #original female character #bandagesandloveletter's OFC's #harry welsh #joe liebgott #chuck grant #george luz #bull randleman #introductory post

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stillbandofbrothersthirsty · 3 years

Text

Rock Bottom

Joe Liebgott x OC

*Rated T for language and adult themes. (5,471 words)

“Have you guys seen that new girl?” Frank Perconte asked as he squeezed into a small seat along the dining table bench.

“What new girl?” Bill Guarnere asked through a bite of food.

“The new intelligence girl,” Frank said as means of explanation.

“She’s an intelligence officer?” Joe Liebgott asked.

“I heard she was with the OSS before this,” Pat Christensen added.

“I don’t think intelligence officer,” Frank pushed the food around on his plate, “but apparently she speaks like 20 languages.”

“No,” Joe said doubtfully, “no way, that’s so many.”

“Who knows? Once you know one language it’s easier to pick up others,” David Webster said.

Joe shot him an annoyed look.

“I think she’s from the Bronx too, Web.”

“Well hey, there ya go! There’s so many languages going around in the Bronx, she probably picked them up there. It’s so much easier to learn languages when you’re young ya-“

“Where’d you get all this info?” Bill cut David off.

“Luz.” Frank was barely intelligible with his mouth full.

“Hm,” Bill grunted. The information was likely true coming from George Luz, the kid had a way of finding things out.

Their formal introduction to the newest G-2 recruit occurred the next day prior to starting their classroom instruction. The men hadn’t expected the classroom time. They knew the forecast had predicted rain but they didn’t dare to hope Sobel would let them off just because of “a little water”. However, by eleven, the early morning drizzle had grown into a downpour that even Sobel didn’t want to be caught in. He relinquished his company to the instruction of basic compass and map reading.

“Gentleman,” Sobel addressed them dryly, his hands folded behind his back, “before we get started, I would like to introduce you to the newest member of the intelligence general staff.”

The men were gathered in a large tent propped up by recently constructed whitewood. Beside Sobel stood a woman dressed neatly in an army issued pencil skirt, jacket and tie.

“This is Valerie Marchetti, she will be working with the intelligence office as a linguist.”

“Told ya she knew like 20 languages,” Frank whispered to Joe.

“Italian!” Bill nudged Johnny Martin.

“Please make every effort to make her feel welcome,” Sobel finished unenthusiastically, “Alright, let's get started. Radio men, follow Ms. Marchetti.”

“Lucky!” Floyd Talbert clapped George on the shoulder as he stood up. George winked at him with a grin.

“So, what’s she like?” Floyd asked as they headed back to the barracks.

“Aw she’s an angel,” George enthused, “so sweet, and she knows her stuff too!”

“You’d think anyone that pretty was an angel, Luz,” Frank said.

“That,” George said, “is because angels are beautiful.”

But George wasn’t the only one over the moon to have a woman among them. All of the Toccoa men were eager for any chance to ogle Valerie. They were oversexed and grateful to have a beautiful woman in their midst, if only for the hope of earning a smile. Most of the men were limited in their interactions with her seeing as she was part of the intelligence general staff but somehow Bill really got to know her, and by extension, Johnny Martin did too. They became a trio on nights out. Bill jumping from group to group, socializing with all the men while the more mellow Johnny posted up at a table with Valerie.

“Does she actually know 20 languages?” Shifty asked Bill innocently.

“Nah, not actually twenty, but she knows quite a few. She’s damn smart!” Bill said taking a long drink of his beer.

“What languages does she know?” Joe asked.

“Italian, her pa’s Italian. Polish ‘cuz of her ma. Yiddish and I think her German’s okay too,” Bill listed.

Joe nodded thoughtfully, “not bad,” he admitted. “Not gonna be any use to us if we go to Japan though.”

Bill shrugged, “who knows where we’re goin’, they got her here for a reason.”

“Was she posted somewhere else before this?” Moe Alley asked.

“She was a code breaker! Can you believe that? So smart,” Bill shook his head in awe.

“Ya sound like you’re in love there, Bill,” Joe teased.

“God damn right, I love that girl. She’s great!”

Joe chuckled, she was a good looking dame that was for sure. Just his type: curvaceous, dark hair and warm eyes. He admired her just as much as every other guy in the bar. There were plenty of local women around, some of who Joe had gotten to know quite well, but there was something about that army pencil skirt that just did it for Joe.

“She gotta fella?” Joe heard himself asking.

“Why? You interested Joe?” Bill asked.

Joe shrugged, “just curious.”

Bill looked over his shoulder where Valerie sat smiling, her full lips painted a rich red. “I don’t think so, but I’ll tell ya what Joe, she’s not any ol’ dame. She’s a spicy one that’s for sure. She’ll tell you what’s what.”

Yeah, Joe found that out for himself the first time he experienced classroom instruction with Valerie Marchetti.

“Well, actually we’d actually refer to this group as the Allgemeine SS,” Valerie said.

“Deutsche Ausrüstungswerke is German Equipment factories so I don’t-“ Joe defended.

“Well yes, but it’s important to know that this is an armaments division under the SS, Allgemeine SS.”  “Are you sure? You said yourself you aren’t fluent in German, are you sure you’re translating-“

“Yes. I don’t speak fluent German but I know these terms and I know the organization of the SS. You would do well to listen to me, I know what I’m talking about.” Valerie snapped.

“Okay, calm down,” Joe threw his hands up.

Valerie sniffed at his gaslighting before spinning on her heel and walking away. After that it was game over, nothing about her was attractive to Joe any longer; not her silky, dark curls, not her full red lips, not the way the dark lines on her hose travelled seductively up her leg. He decided she was more trouble than she was worth.

A cheer rose up from the dart boards that Friday night where Bill, Johnny, and Bull were playing darts with Valerie. She was wearing trousers that night, which Joe found rather flattering. But he caught himself as his gaze travelled down from her waist, and quickly looked away.

“Okay, if I make this last one, drinks are on me.” Valerie bit her lip in concentration.

“Well now I kinda want you to win,” Bill said jovially.

“Ah!” The men around her cheered again as the dart hit another bullseye.

“Damn, how do you do it?” asked Don Malarkey in awe.

Valeria smiled coyly and shrugged. “Who needs a drink?” she asked to the men gathered.

“Nah, you can’t possibly cover all the drinks here,” Bill held up his hand in protest, a cigarette burning between his fingers.

“Don’t worry about it Bill, I pretty much owe everyone in here a drink anyways after the way they all tripped over themselves to buy me a drink when I first got here.”

The men sung her praises all the way up to the bar where Valerie instructed the tender to pour everyone in proximity a beer and to put it on her tab. She had come up right where Joe had been standing with Moe. Valerie glanced down at his nearly empty glass, “you need a beer Joe?” she asked.

“No thanks, still workin’ on this one.” Joe held up his glass.

“James?” Valerie asked Moe. He nodded appreciatively and accepted the drink even though his original glass held more than Joes.

“You sure Joe?” Valerie asked in a sing song voice. It grated on Joe’s nerves.

“I’m good, thank you though Valerie.” His dark eyes met hers. The piercing darkness of them sent a shiver down her spine and she abruptly looked away, blushing.

Joe was walking back from the latrine later that night when he heard some voices out in the dark, in the direction of HQ. The tone of the two male voices that carried on the air made Joe stand to alert. The speakers weren’t too loud, but there was a forcefulness to them. Then the voice of an agitated female broke through. A coldness rushed into Joe blood. He rushed towards the noise. He came upon two F company men who were walking on either side of Valerie. They were walking fast, the pace clearly set by Valerie who sped forward. The men kept in step with with her all while trying to box her in between their bodies.

“Hey!” Joe snapped, stopping them in their course, “what the hell is going on here?”

Joe looked at Valerie, a chilling look in her eyes: fear.

The men hardly seemed bothered by Joe’s presence. “We’re just making sure this young lady gets back to her quarters safely,” one said.

“Are you?” Joe asked, “do you even know her?”

“Sure we do,” the other said arrogantly, “mind your business pal.”

“Val, you know these guys?” Joe asked. Even with adrenaline coursing through his body he winced internally at his use of her nickname. He wasn’t familiar with her like that, why did he call her Val in that moment?

“Don’t worry about it Joe, I can take care of myself,” she said firmly, “I’m just right here,” she turned towards the main HQ building where she was posted up with the other few females. The men made to follow her into the darkness. Although it was only yards away, there were too many spots of darkness for Joe to feel comfortable letting those men follow her all the way up to her doorstep. Joe stepped in front of them, giving Valerie the time and space to disappear into the fold of the night.

“What’s your problem man?” one of the men snarled.

“It’s late, you’re just gonna have to accept you struck out tonight,” Joe sneered back.

The other man, who was significantly larger than Joe, took a menacing step forward. “She your girl or something?” he asked with narrow eyes.

“She’s no ones girl,” Joe said, and he turned away to head back to his barracks.

“Hey, you should’ve stayed out of it, guy.” Then Joe felt a hand on his collar spin him around before a fist made contact with his eye.

“Do you know what guys from F company?” Edward Tipper asked as he took in the blue and blackness that was beginning to come out around Joe’s eye socket.

Joe shrugged into his breakfast, “whatever, I’m not worried about it.”

“Those bastards,” Moe said, “we oughta give them what they deserve.”

“I said I’m not worried about it,” Joe said, “will you drop it?” His friends reluctantly sat back.

It was then Joe noticed Valerie standing a few feet away, a breakfast tray clutched in her hands. She was staring mournfully at the injuries he incurred. As soon as his eyes met hers she quickly walked to the table where Johnny sat, taking a place beside him and disappearing behind the figures of the Easy Company men she loved. Not Joe, he was not part of that group.

“Joe,” Valerie came up behind him as he was bussing his tray. He turned around to face her. Bags hung under her eyes but her signature red lipstick was applied flawlessly.

“Yeah?” he asked impassively.

“Um, I..” she hesitated, taking in his appearance. His jacket was unbuttoned, revealing his PT shirt. His dog tags hung heavy around his lean neck. His cheek bones were sharp, the top of the left one was split just slightly below where the blueness had spread to fill his entire eye socket. Valerie winced looking at him.

“I just want to say I appreciate you checking in on me last night,” Valerie began.

“Don’t mention,” Joe flicked his hand dismissively and began to walk away.

“But you didn’t need to, I feel bad, you’re eye, I would’ve been fine-“

Joe looked at her like she was crazy, “Valerie I saw how you looked last night, you knew it wasn’t goin’ in a good direction.”

“I was almost back to my quarters, I would’ve been fine,” she insisted.

Joe let out a sharp laugh, “why were you alone anyway? Walking in the dark?”

“It’s none of your business,” Valerie said.

“Wow, this is a hell of a thank you, Val,” Joe winced. Damn it, why did he keep using that nickname?

Valerie wrinkled her own nose in discomfort, “well thank you, but next time I got myself.”

“Valerie I wasn’t going to just leave you there!��  “You don’t need to worry about me! I can take care of myself,” she doubled down.

“God damn it, would you get over yourself?” Joe snapped. Valerie reeled back in momentary shock.

“Get over myself?”

“Those guys were trouble! We both know it!”

“Get over myself? What do you mean? You don’t trust me-“

“I don’t even know you, I would’ve done the same for any girl-“  “So because I’m a girl you don’t trust me to take care of myself?”

“It was two against one.”  “I’m a soldier same as you and you were prepared to take them on-“

“Don’t be ignorant, it’s diff-“

“Ignorant? Who’s calling who ignorant?”

“See, you just think you’re so much better than every-“

“I have to be better than everyone! I have to work twice as hard as everyone here!”

“In your cozy little intelligence office? Yeah, sure, try doing the stuff we have to do.”

“I have to train too! I’m strong!”  “But not strong enough to-“

“I am strong enough!”

“Look what those bastards did to me, you don’t think they would’ve done the same to you?”

“Well, maybe not, because like you said I’m just a girl.”

“Yeah well let me tell you that’s exactly why they could’ve done worse.”

“Do you just assume the worst of your compatriots?”  “Do you not? How dumb are you? I thought you were from the city!”  “You know what, just stay out of it next time Liebgott. I don’t want you getting injured on my behalf.” Valerie stormed away angrily.

“You’re welcome!”Joe shouted after her defiantly. “God damn it,” he cursed under his breath. He kicked a trash bin nearly kicking it over, “fuck this.”

Joe was still heated later that night when he finally retired to the barracks.

“Tough day, Joe?” Bull asked. A cigar hung from his mouth as he unlaced his boots.

“Little bit,” Joe eased down on his bed. His face throbbed where he had been hit. Bull looked up at him thoughtfully, “everything alright now?” he asked cryptically.

“All good, Bull,” Joe lay back on his cot exhaling.

“Not all good,” John Martin was suddenly standing over him, “you were fighting with Valerie?”

“Not really, it’s fine,” Joe draped an arm over his eyes, trying to block out the little light that filled their canvas living quarters.

“It better be, I heard you two shouting at each other earlier. What’d you do to deserve that?”

Joe sat up, “I didn’t do anything!”

John crossed his arms and eyed Joe suspiciously, “well, if she’s after you you probably deserve it.” He stalked off and Joe fell back onto his bed.

“She’s a tough one that Valerie,” Bull said.

“So I’ve heard,” Joe muttered.

“No shit from nobody,” Bull continued.

“You gotta point, Bull?” Joe snapped glaring at the guy in the bunk next to him.

Bull chewed on his cigar, carefully considering what he was going to say next, “it was good of you to look out for her. You did the right thing, Joe.”

Joe hadn’t expected that. He nodded at Bull then rolled over in his bunk. He didn’t know how much Bull knew, or what exactly he had heard through the grapevine, but Bull’s words meant more than he thought the would. Finally a little acknowledgment for preventing the crime he had seen coming. No matter how tough she was, there’s no stopping that when two men decide they’re going to do it.

Joe slid his arm under his pillow, trying to get comfortable. That’s when his hand grazed something hard and rectangular. From underneath his pillow he pulled out a chocolate bar. Wrapped around it, fastened with twine, was a note. In neat cursive were the words: You were right. Thank you for your help.

Joe couldn’t help but smile a little bit. Who the fuck was this woman.

She was a goddamn rule following narc when she wanted to be, that’s who she was. Joe and Moe may or may not have snuck out of the base one Tuesday night and gotten pissed at a nearby bar. They were too drunk to be cautious when they stumbled back onto base, their arms around each other, singing.

Valerie was walking along the well lit path to the women’s latrine when she ran into them.

“What are you guys doing?” she hissed confronting them.

“Hello sweetheart,” Moe slurred with a grin.

“Valerie!” Joe said enthusiastically, “wow thank you for the Hershey bar.”

Valerie flushed bright red, “you guys are being so loud! You’re going to get in trouble.” She looked them up and down, “how drunk are you?”  “Not drunk at all,” Moe shook his head.

Valerie wrinkled her nose, “sure smells like you are.”

“That’s rude Valerie,” Joe said jokingly.

“Yeah well you guys are going to get all of Easy in trouble tomorrow if you show up hungover.”

“We’ll be fine!” Moe waved his hand, “don’t worry about us, doll.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Valerie said sharply, “its the rest of the company you’re screwin’ over. Goodnight!” she walked off shaking her head.

“What a bitch,” Moe said off-handedly.

“She’s not a bitch,” Joe immediately snapped.

Moe swayed in place, grinning stupidly at his friend. “Whoa there, you’re not in love with her now too are you?”

Joe rolled his eyes and the men stumbled back to their barracks, now a little quieter.

He would never admit it after the way Valerie had confronted them, but waking up the next day was rough. Joe was determined to keep it together just to spite Valerie. He had muscled through the morning and was hoping for a moment of respite at lunch. But to his great misfortune, tuna casserole was being served. Joe’s stomach churned as he looked down into his plate. He was hungry but he was sure that the final remains of alcohol digesting inside of him would not be happy to share his stomach with this meal.

As he contemplated whether to eat or not, Joe felt eyes on him. He looked up to see Valerie’s sympathetic face from across the mess hall. She smiled at him tenderly at him and he immediately felt pathetic in her eyes. A irrational sense of anger flared up in him and he stabbed at the casserole with his fork. He brought a first big bite into his mouth all while maintaining eye contact with Valerie. The sympathetic smile dropped from her face as she watched his performance. She narrowed her eyes, her lip curling in disgust at his juvenile defiance.

After the meal ended she came up to him, her tray as empty as his was.

“Feeling alright, Joe?” she asked as sweet as syrup.

Perspiration was beginning to form on his forehead. He was not feeling alright, in fact he felt rather clammy. Moe had done the wise thing and only eaten his buttered bread. Joe was seriously regretting not doing the same.

“Feelin’ great, how’re you feeling, Valerie?” he asked obstinately.

“I’m feeling great too,” she said smugly, because she was, and he clearly was not even if he wasn’t admitting it. “Enjoy the rest of the day!” She sashayed off.

Luckily, the mess hall was mostly empty because as soon as she was out of sight, Joe dived for a nearby trashcan and regurgitated the lunch he had just consumed.

“Better out than in,” Moe said as means of comfort, looking equally washed up.

By the end of the week Joe was ready to go out again. Just as it happens to all young men, the short term memory of how he felt after a night of binge drinking had left him by that Saturday night. Having secured and successfully retained their weekend passes, Joe and his friends bought tickets to the dance that Saturday evening.

The majority of Easy Company had the same idea and they, along with the other companies of the 101st airborne, filled the local dance hall. Joe was having a pretty good time. Beer was flowing, the band was hopping, and there was an endless supply of beautiful women to dance with. Joe was taking a break from the dance floor when he spotted Valerie spinning across the room in the arms of a dark haired gentleman from another company.

“Look at her,” Edward said appreciatively from next to Joe.

“Who?” Joe asked, pretending not to know who his friend was referring to.

“I know you don’t like her much, but Valerie, she is a looker,” Edward whistled.

Joe scowled but allowed himself a moment to check Valerie out. She wore a slightly-outdated red belted dress. Little white flowers peppered the fabric from the hem to the shoulders where the cinched neckline generously revealed her delicate collarbones.

Joe cleared his throat, “yeah, but there’s lots of good lookin’ broads around tonight.”

Edward just shrugged and downed the rest of his beer before setting out for the dance floor again. Joe did his best to avoid Valerie. He distracted himself with drinks, jokes, and other beautiful women. Despite his best efforts Joe still found himself looking across the low lit dance floor directly into Valerie’s eyes when a version of Mood Indigo came on.

It wasn’t Valerie in his arms, it was another woman. A woman he hadn’t known long enough to truly enjoy the moody slow dance with. Valerie was in the arms of the same guy she’d been with all night and she did look like she was enjoying the dance. Joe realized she was enjoying it a lot more than he wanted her to be.

The glance they had shared had been brief, she had broken it off quickly to nestle her cheek against her fellas shoulder. But that short moment had stirred something in Joe. In the dark golden light of the numerous high-hanging light bulbs Valerie’s eyes had looked like melted amber. The shadows that flickered across the hall softened her face, giving it an ethereal look. She was breathtaking and Joe wanted to be the one with his arm around her waist. He wanted to be the one she leaned her cheek against. He felt an overwhelming unreasonable hatred for this random man he didn’t know simply because he was the one who held Valerie so close.

Once the song ended, Joe politely bid goodbye to his partner and made a beeline for Valerie. She stood talking to her partner and a few other guys Joe didn’t recognize. He approached their group stiffly, his hands in his pockets. Everyone looked surprised at his arrival, especially Valerie, who was obligated to introduce him considering she was the only one who really knew him.

After a quick nod to the group Joe said, “Valerie can I talk to you?” Valerie’s brow furrowed in confusion but she politely excused herself. Joe lead her to an unoccupied side of the room near the door.

“Is something wrong?” Valerie asked, a fresh glass of champagne clutched in her perfectly manicured hands. Joe had no clue as to what he had wanted to say to her or what exactly he wanted from her. His goal had simply been to remove her from that man’s presence. In all honesty, he had no plan because he was confused on how exactly he considered her; was she a friend? An enemy? Or just another beautiful woman?

“Well, I just wanted to give you the option to dance with me,” he hesitated, watching her face for a reaction, “or one of the other Easy guys,” he added.

“Um, I’m alright, thank you, I’ve been happy dancing with-“ she gestured back at her partner.

“That guy? Psh,” Joe said dismissively, “guys a cement mixer, don’t you wanna dance with someone good?”

Red rose up in Valerie’s cheeks, “who? Like you?” she asked.

Joe shrugged, “anyone’s better than that fool.”

“You don’t even know him, Joe.”

Fair point, Joe thought, but he didn’t like the guy. “I can tell he’s a dip, just look at him!” Joe laughed.

“This is a really terrible way of asking me to dance with you!”

“Hey, I’m doin’ you a favor.”

“Me a favor? Could you be more full of yourself?”

“Me full of myself? What about you little miss perfect. I’m not the one walking around acting like you know everything.”

“I know more than you!” “See there you go, why do you gotta go around putting people down?”

“No one seems to have a problem with me except you!” Valerie shot back.

“Take it outside lovebirds,” an intoxicated private said as he passed them.

His interruption killed the argument between them. Instead they just stood glaring at each other, dark brown eyes meeting golden ones.   

Finally, Joe said, “come on, let’s dance.”

“You wish!” Valerie stomped on his foot.

Joe swallowed his curse, “fuck,” he said in a strangled a voice. Valerie turned to stalk away but Joe grabbed her elbow.

“Get off of me,” she hissed, trying her best not to make more of a scene than they already had.

“Come on.” Joe pulled her out the nearest door, throwing them both into the cool Georgian night. Now engulfed by darkness they were really free to fight it out.

“What the fuck was that for?” he demanded.

“Who do you think you are?” she shot back. “Interrupting my evening for what? Just to invite me on a pity dance? I don’t need your pity, I was enjoying myself quite a bit tonight until you started all this!” She threw her hands up in frustration. Some of the champagne from the glass still in her hand spilled over the side, onto her hand. “Ugh,” she exclaimed. She wiped her hand angrily on her dress.

Jealousy stabbed through Joe’s chest at her words. She had been enjoying herself with that guy. “What’s so special about that guy anyways? Didn’t you just meet him tonight?” he sneered.

Valerie opened her mouth to speak, then stopped. She closed it, examining him. A devilish smirk crossed her face, “oh is this what it’s about Joe? You jealous?”

  Yes. “No!” he said, “I just don’t know why you’re all moony over this guy. This is a social, not something you bring a date to.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Don’t believe me about what? This isn’t a place for dates? Not usually-”

“That you’re not jealous! What’s your problem Joe? If you’re interested in me just be a man and tell me.”

“Typical, you thinking that everyone has got to be in love with you.”

“Then tell me why you’re being so rude tonight! Either you’re jealous or you hate me.” Was there a third option? Because Joe felt like he was somewhere in between. He definitely didn’t like Valerie. She got under his skin like no one else. At the same time, there was a magnetism about her that kept drawing him in. Those eyes, those lips, even that temper. He wanted to grab her and kiss her just to shut her up.

“And if you hated me you wouldn’t be bothering with all this!”  Joe was barely even listening to her at this point.

He could feel his blood pumping; the adrenaline and anger mixing together to create a roar in ears that made it impossible to comprehend everything she was saying. He knew he was going to do it even as he counseled himself against it. He surprised himself with his sudden movement; he snatched her waist and pulled her into a hard kiss.

Immediately, she pushed him away. “What the hell!” she threw the remainder of her champagne in his face. Cooly, Joe wiped the liquid off his face with the sleeve.

“You told me to tell you!”

“Not like that!”

He stood glaring at her. She glared back, her now empty glass hanging pointlessly from her hand. There was nothing but silence between them, and the chirp of insects in the night sky. The faint sounds from the festivities inside filtered out but Joe and Valerie were completely in their own world, in a standoff.

Then suddenly, mutually, something shifted between them. Flaring rage turned to lust. Simultaneously they lunged for each other. Joe wrapped one arm around her waist, the other hungrily snaking up her thigh. Valerie’s fingers twisted in his hair, tugging at the thick, dark tendrils. He bit down on her lip as she pulled on his hair. Their kisses were messy and hungry; all the pent up anger and tension that had built up between them expressed in an intimate power struggle as they moved to devour each other.

“You drive me crazy,” Joe pulled away for breath.

Her lipstick was completely gone, its last traces staining her swollen mouth red. “I can’t stand you,” she retorted. He kissed her again, tangling her hand in her hair. Their pace slowed from the previous feverish speed to something more sensual without losing its fervor. Joe had her pressed against the building wall. His hands cupped her her jaw and slid down her throat. His mind was muddled with his detestation for this woman and the aching physical desire that was taking over him. She must have felt similarly as one hand pushed against his pelvis, as if warding him off, while the other dug fingernails into the nape of neck, forcing him in closer.

Once again they surfaced for air, this time taking time to really look at each other. The sound of their panting filled the space around them as her eyes searched his for some explanation.

“What’re we doing, Joe?” her voice was oddly vulnerable. Joe traced her jaw with a calloused thumb.

“I don’t know.” He pushed away from her and ran a hand through his tousled hair. Cold air entered the space where their bodies were previously connected. It sent a shiver through Valerie. “I don’t know,” Joe repeated.

He stepped back even further into the dark, his hand on his hips. He kicked a rock on the ground.

“You don’t like me,” Valerie said with the slight intonation of a question. Joe sucked his teeth. “And,” she continued slowly, “I don’t know if I like you.”

“I don’t know how I feel about you,” Joe said.

Valerie crossed her arms, her eyes bore into him. She was waiting for him to say something else, to offer a but. But it never came.

After a few unbearable minutes of silence she finally said, “I’m going back inside, Joe.” The patch of darkness he stood in was filled with a momentary field of light as she opened the door. Then, she was gone and Joe was alone in the darkness.

Joe did his best to avoid Valerie after that, but he felt her golden eyes on him in the mess hall. He wanted to provide her with answers, to tell her how he was feeling, but he didn’t know. He told himself there was a nothing to like about her - she was a pretentious kiss ass who seemed to have every guy wrapped around her finger. But he saw through her - he wasn’t going to fall for her like everyone else had.

Yet, she consumed his thoughts. All the pieces of love and hate swirled in his mind as he desperately tried to conceive a clear way to explain how he was feeling. He didn’t like her, but he might be falling in love with her. But even if he had realized this sooner, it still came too late.

In a matter of weeks she was stepping out with the dark haired guy she had hit it off with that night. He was a boring, strait laced guy, or at least that’s what Joe had gathered from Bill. The guys dullness was obvious. From what Joe witnessed, there was no fire between them. Not that it was his place to care, he reminded himself. Every time Joe saw them together he avoided her gaze. He knew he would see that look that was begging him to step in, to step up and interrupt this course she was on. But, as long as she was with this guy Joe had an excuse not to love her.

#hbo war #band of brothers #joe liebgott #joe liebgott x oc #fanfiction #BoB #hbo band of brothers #angst #heartbreak

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 4 years

Text

Band of Brothers Greetings, Part 2

Cute/charming things thay say when they walk into a room and see you/you walk into a room and they see you

Speirs:

Ok, first off- the moment he walks into a room, any room, he scans to see if you’re there, and if you are what you’re doing.

He’s always done it, but since things between the two of you have gotten a bit steamy you find yourself catching him doing it ALL. THE. DAMN. TIME.

Like Ronald, you’re vv handsome and smoldery but YOU AREN’T SUBTLE IN THE SLIGHTEST.

Boi’s head is literally on a swivel until he finds you, straight up ignoring the person trying to talk to him until he sees that you’re there before impatiently returning his attention to whatever NIxon is saying (you know, BC OH YEAH not only are we at work but our work is war whoopsies could you repeat that, Nix i was lost in my handsome deathwish prince’s eyes?)

He’s always careful to read your body language to see how you're feeling, and based on that and the context of where y’all are he decides how (and if) to approach you.

His own feelings overwhelm him so it’s easier for him to focus on how you’re feeling

(Weirdly enough, you can read his feelings better than he can read his feelings sometimes.)

You weirdos end up staring at each other for way too long, entire conversations flowing between you two with little more than a lift of an eyebrow and a tilt of the head.

Bill and Babe had a game where they would see who between them could hold their breath through more of yours and Speirs’s weird hive mind-meld, the loser getting two freebies from the other’s rations.

Soon, more people joined in, and one day Speirs walked in while Peacock and LIpton were discussing the formation they wanted the camp set up in and half of the guys simultaneously took a deep breath through their noses to get a lungful of air

When Lipton looked back out to the group of listening soldiers, he was disturbed to see several of his friends red or blue faced and looking between you and Speirs and each other like a tennis match

One look from Speirs put a stop to that game for a good month.

It only started up again because they saw Ron storm into the med bay and kiss you full on the mouth when you were alone after a soldier had punched you in that nose during Market Garden and left you horrifically blood-soaked and he’d thought you’d been shot.

Then the game turned into who could catch Ron showing human emotions towards you, with more points being given to the more softboy the action.

In an effort to keep THE BOYS™ focused during meetings, you and Ron eventually decided it’d be best to just stand by each other whenever you were in a room together, bc while you both are soft for each other you still get that you can’t be too distracted.

Well, you decided that.

If anything, Ron now has a new favorite game- seeing how long you could stay focused with his fingers running up and down your thigh while sitting together.

He may have slipped his hand beneath your waistband a few times and gotten you off during one of Nix’s intelligence briefings, whispering that you were being so good for him the entire time

and you may have retaliated once by getting him so worked up that he almost came in his pants like a teenager while surrounded by his sleeping men before giving him an overly sweet look before slipping away.

He makes you pay for it later, don’t worry :)

Martin:

MY ANGER BB

SO GLARE-Y, SO FROWN

That is...until he sees you

Then the furrow in his brow softens, and a knowing smile breaks across his face and he either comes to be by you or (a la Bull Randleman) he will raise him arm to show you that there is a you-sized space that needs filling (hurry plz it makes him feel better to touch you.)

He’s not going to show PDA when y’all’re busy- bc he’s good and what he does and you’re good at what you do but that doesn’t mean you can just not pay attention if important info is benign shared.

If he thinks you aren’t paying enough attention he’ll let you know right away.

Or just glare at the thing distracting you until it eventually relents or someone hits his arm and tells him to stop glaring at the pretty flowers y’n’s looking at they’ll burst into flame and then she’ll be sad

BUt homeboy is not afraid to have you lean against him, or sit in his lap as you both get ready to do whatever it is you have to do.

If the lot of you are just hanging out- he’s much more relaxed, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek or temple before returning his attention to whatever he had been doing- arms wrapping around you as he catches you up on whatever you’d missed

BC HE WOULD WANT YOU TO BE INCLUDED IN EVERYTHING HE DOES (as long as it’s not too dangerous, obvi)

“But John, you’re going on the patrol—!” “Yeah, cause if you’re not going SOMEONE has to make sure these boys don’t get themselves killed. Think it’d be rude to leave them to fend for themselves...”

“But i could go-” “NO you can’t, shut up. Now listen to my plan and tell me what you think…”

He knows how good you are at your job, and it makes him want to be better at his job so he can make sure to be there for you.

I also feel like THE BOYS™ would sometimes be surprised to see Johnny “It may be a bitchface but I’m not resting” Martin being a lil soft with you, and would sometimes stare in shock at the sight of the two of you looking at each other with such open adoration and softness that they’d get a lil mesmerized.

Until either you or Johnny noticed

Then, get ready for the SNARKIEST “Can I FUCKING help you?” glare combo to ever exist ever.

This made me smile, idk

Luz:

GEOOOOOOOOOORGE Luz

My guy (much like Babe) is SO INTO YOU it can sometimes get the both of you in trouble (How either of you managed to keep from getting kicked out is a miracle).

Luz is also a dramatic little goober, so you know he’ll do something over the top to try and make you laugh (bc, unlike him, you can actually keep it together for more than five seconds whenever you see him)

I’m talking shooting to his feet and standing on his chair and pointing in your direction the moment he sees you (especially if it’s for the first time that day/in a while), putting on a deep voice and an overly serious expression.

“Good God boys, I think we’re in the presence of a GOD. DAMN. KNOCKOUT.”

“WOOH, look at that! Somebody get Roe, cause I’m pretty sure my is about to JUMP outta my CHEST!”

(“You sure you ain’t just hopped up on caffeine and no sleep—?” “Shut UP Perconte, can’t you see I’m trying to flirt with your mother?”)

When you smile sleepily and tell him he can’t talk to your son that way he’ll perk up like a goddamn puppy dog, hop down from his chair and grab the mug of burnt coffee he’d poured for you when he’d heard you greeting Nixon that morning.

He presses the cup into your hand and his smile would soften into the one he saved for you (the one he’d given you after the two of you had snuck out past curfew at Toccoa to put a can of peaches by the door of Sobel’s bunkhouse and nearly gotten caught because you couldn’t stop giggling)

Luz is so obviously a goof but he also would be so endearingly obvious in his adoration of you.

No one would dare tease him about it. George brought so much light and (much needed) distraction from the darkness around them that THE BOYS™ would literally go to the ends of the earth to ensure that the two of you had time together.

Don’t think about how, after being assigned a (gasp) room with a queen bed and a door(!) he would give you that smile again BUT this time there’d be a lil hint of Trouble in those bright eyes. Don’t think about him swallowing your sighs as the two of you keep each other warm between the sheets.

But if you do think about it, know that he’s going to whisper the sweetest, kindest things to you the whole time, and yall are gonna fall asleep like teens in a CW show (~in each others armzZz~)

Guarnere:

KING of the dirty wink

Oh my god.

Put that thing away before you get silly and hurt someone

You’ve heard of undressing someone with your eyes (see Liebgott and Nixon (and Ron if he’s feeling naughty shhh)), and you’ve heard of talking someone right out of their pants.

You had never known it was possible to WINK someone into a PUDDLE of feels.

Bill had a whole language of winks and head tilts, but you could be DAMN sure that he knows EXACTLY what he can do to you.

(Because you’re in a position where you’re under a bit more scrutiny than the other men, he also knows that you can’t necessarily reciprocate your feelings as openly as he can.)

DOn’t worry, he’s more than happy to flirt publicly for the both of you

“There she is, fuckin goddess of war herself. Come to see how the toughest, most handsome sonofabitch in the 506 is doin’ this morning?”

“Yeah, Bill. Something like that.”

It’s really cute.

When you guys are alone, you try to make up for the fact that you can’t openly admire him the same way that he admires you. But Bill won’t hear it- tells you that he’d still think the world of you, even if you called him “the most unhelpful, condescending little shit” you’d ever had the displeasure of meeting

(which you did, after two weeks of constantly being paired up for training in Georgia)

(He’d asked you to marry him the next day, and you’d laughed so loudly and unexpectedly that it startled the both of you. The only thing to shut you up was a bark from Lipton to focus on the combat training, and even then you hadn’t been able to stop your shoulders from shaking)

For all his insistence that you didn’t have to worry about him thinking you don’t share his feelings, he isn’t opposed whenever the mood to show him how much you care for him strikes you.

Take a lil initiative when the two of you are alone and he’s putty in your hands.

BC while he finds your restraint admirable, he’d be a fucking liar to say you dropping the stoicism to get a lil dirty makes him weak.

Everyone else is used to Bill being an open flirt, and they are pretty sure if you had a problem with it you’d make him stop, but that doesn’t stop them from being surprised when Bill had dipped you into an over-the-top romantic kiss when it was announced the war was over (BC LET’S PRETEND HE WAS ALL GOOD AND HEALED UP AND WAS WITH BUCK AT THE BASEBALL GAME OKAY?!).

Speirs had simply held his hand out, palm up while all the guys who’d bet against him paid up

He’d shipped it from day one, but you’ll never be able to prove it!

(YIKES A DOODLE HERE’S PART TWO! Thank you to everyone who responded and liked the first half (major shout out to @mrsalwayswrite for writing my new favorite Liebgott story!) Again, love yall, and may your personal letters never be considered contraband)

#band of brothers imagine #band of brothers x reader #ron speirs x reader #ronald speirs x reader #john martin x reader #johnny martin x reader #george luz x reader #luz x reader #bill guarnere x reader #guarnere x reader #it's vv bad but I'll just add it to the pile of already burning garbage pile that is my bibliography

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its-a-can-of-peaches-siir · 3 years

Text

Chuck Grant

This one is a little 18 +, just a heads up

Even after two years after the war Chuck found himself still in awe of you, he still got the goosebumps on his arms when you looked at him a certain way, and he still got chills when you touched any part of him. He still found you the most beautiful women in the whole world, and couldn't believe you had picked him of all people.

Despite the fact that for the first year at Toccoa the two of you hadn't been able to stand being in each other's presence for more then ten minutes- he still acknowledged the fact that he still found you quite attractive. If anything that awareness only added to his resentment of you and anything to do with you.

You were to easy on the eyes to be as annoying as he found you. It just wasn't fair, to be so attractive but to be annoying at the same time.

To chucks disappointment he'd made an absolutely ass of himself during your first interaction- he'd been too drunk and too confident in his abilities to sweet talk women and too hyped up on his mates encouragement that he'd decided to make a move on you.

Chuck couldn't quite remember what exactly happened that night but he does remember putting his hand on your ass and getting a back hand to the face for it, And, because he was young and cocky, he'd immediately labeled you as a prude and made it his mission to hate your guts. Even though he knew that he was in the wrong. Because that's just how he was back then.

Had anyone asked Chuck back then if he'd be willing to share a home with you, let alone share a bed, he would of probably punched them in the face and he imagines that would of been your response as well.

Since then you both had come very far indeed.Chuck leaned on the doorframe of your bedroom door while crossing his arms over his chest and smiled at the sight of you.As much as you hated how open he was when admiring you, he just couldn't curb the bad habit.The vision of you so at ease was a sight to be-hold, especially after seeing you so On edge for so long.

Right now you were sprawled out on your stomach with your legs up in the air behind you, you were dressed in one of chucks old t-shirts that had stretched over time and you had black underwear on underneath and he could only just see, with woollen socks on your feet.

You had the window open letting in a gentle breeze from the spring ocean. All the lights in the bedroom were off and the sun setting outside was the only thing that lit up the room for him to see you.Your head was propped up on your hand as you took a drag from your cigarette, and tapped the ash onto a small plate beside you, the smoke leaving your lips floating above you forming a halo cloud above your head. Chuck cursed himself in his head knowing he was the reason you started smoking in the first place, you hadn't smoked before meeting him but after your second jump he offered you one and you took it without thinking, so he blames himself for even asking you.Now though he was the one not smoking and you were the one smoking."Are you going to stand there like a creep all night darling?" As Chuck refocuses he realises you can see him in the reflection in the dressing table mirror and he can hear the teasing smile On your voice.Putting your cigarette out on the plate he watches you push yourself up onto your elbows and turn to face him over your shoulder. He bites back a smile of his own as he hits the switch off for the hall way light and closes the bedroom door and makes his way over to you while kicking his shoes off."Sorry baby" he says using the terrible pet name he'd first used when he first meet you. "Was just enjoying the view" You snort a laugh while turning back to look out the open window shacking your head. "Careful buddy- my mans got a mean right hook" He rolls his eyes despite the fact that you can't see it, Stripping down to just his boxes he joins you."I don't know sweetheart" he grumbles "I've heard you've got a nasty backhand." Using his hands to map out where your legs are, he carefully fits himself behind you like a familiar and comforting puzzle piece. While the side effects of his head injury were relatively minor compared to the severity of the wound, he still wasn't always able to trust his eyes when it came to their depth perception. You didn't seem to mind his way of accommodating this certain handicap. You weren't shy to admit you enjoyed his hands on you. With ease that only comes from years of routine, you turn your head at just the right time for him to pluck a kiss from your lips, the taste of chocolate and smoke on your lips. Chuck lets his legs tangle with yours as he rests on his elbow beside you, bringing his other hand up to cup the back of your head and keep your lips on his for a few moments longer. When you hum happily, he can't help but smile into the skin of your lips.Pulling back he rans his fingers down from your neck, down your spine and then his hand rests just above your bum, chuckling warmly when he hears a moan of relief leave your lips.

"Hello Darling" he whispered in your ear, sending goosebumps all over you skin."Hey handsome" you say with a sigh. Turning to look into his eyes you see him smile. "I missed you today" you whispered Chuck knew what you meant. After living together day in and day out for so long, coming home and establishing lives and routines of your own had initially been difficult. He always feels bad In the mornings when leaving you all alone in the house."Such a sap for me huh" he chuckled into the skin of your neck.Rolling your eyes you turn back to the window making a sound of annoyance."Of all the idiots who propositioned me, I had to go and pick the most obnoxious—" Chuck freezes at that, furrowing his brow in surprise and using the hand resting on your back to gently fist a handful of your hair and turn you back to face him. "I'm sorry, what did you just say?" Your eyes scan his face and a smile breaks out on your lips. "Charles Grant is that jealousy I'm sensing?" Your voice had taken on a teasing tone, one that he loved but hated at the same time.He frowns at that, hating how you can still read him even are all this time.When he doesn't reply right away, you purposefully lift your backside and press it against him. God, you knew how to irritate him- you could be such a brat sometimes. Luckily he had learned a long time ago how to curb your teasing.Tightening his grip on your hair infinitesimally, you let him crane your head back and hiss quietly at the sweet sting of it."Darling if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you were trying to make me jealous."Smirking you wet your lips before rolling your hips back up against him."Me? I'm just being honest- you can't really think you were the only one to make a move- shoot your shot if you will" Chuck feels heat curl in his stomach, shaking his head at your insinuation. When he angles your head to bite at the lobe of your ear, you tremble beneath him with excitement- your antagonizing behavior had become a strange turn on somewhere between Normandy and Bastogne. "Who?" You didn't answer your breath hitching in your throat as you feel the press of him against your backside. You knew how much he hated when you did that- knew how frustrated your silence made him.At your silence chuck pulled away which made a whine float out your mouth at the loss of contact.Hearing him chuckle made you groan into the mattress, you felt his hands slide up your bare legs and land on your bum.Sighing as he squeezed your bum he lowered himself back down so he was hovering over your back.You felt his lips graze your ear and his breath skin the hairs on your neck."How about this Sweetheart?" He asks innocently using his hands to pull down your underwear. "I'll give you a name and you tell me if they were stupid enough to try something with you, hm?" Your groan is muffled by the mattress as your faces down into it, it's unclear to him what you said until he looks down and sees you nodding to his question.Using his index and ring finger he holds open your sex and begins to play with your clit. "Skinny?" Even with your face hidden in the mattress he can still make out the scoff of a 'no'. Good he thought, he hadn't thought Skinny would try anyway. "Shifty?"One of your hands come round to swat at his leg as you turn your face around so he can hear you more clearly."Charles you were there when shifty accidentally walked in on us having sex- what do you think?" Chuck chuckled at the memory of shifty walking in with you on top of Chuck, the poor boy almost had a heart attack. When you go to say something, Chuck smacks your ass playfully and your words were long gone in surprise. "Chuck-" "Bull?" "No. Obviously no, geez" Chuck ends up going through the whole easy company roster, he started by getting all the obvious ones out the way: Winters, Sink, Strayer, Sobel- ew, Blithe, Welsh, Lipton, Speirs.With each negative answer he lets you roll yourself down against ha hand.

The first 'yes' that Chuck got was for Talbert, which earned you a bite on your neck despite the fact that Chuck had already figured as much. Same went for Luz- which he already knew because him and George bonded over the fact that you'd rejected both of them. Then came the first surprise of the evening- Nixon.

"What!? Are you Serious Lewis Nixon?" Smirking as you could hear the jealousy melting through. "Does that piss you off baby?" Your tone is teasing but there's a hint of Curiosity in your voice that catches him off Guard.

It did in fact piss him off- Chuck didn't want to think to hard about why though.Not when you'd started this little game.Chucks hand smacking onto your backside again made you gasp and grip the duvet you were laying on. Pressing himself up against you he looks down at you rolling your hips back into him.The idea of you with someone like Nixon inspired rage and pride in his chest- anger at the fact a married man and your CO was looking at you in such manner, and pride because you picked him despite Nixon's trying with you.

"Chuck"

When he looks at your face he sees you've turned your head to look over your shoulder, your face flushed with arousal

"I want you please.- don't make me wait any longer" Well how could he say no to that, he was never very good and telling you No. The sound you make when he slips inside of you almost has him bursting right then and there- the sound so broken and full of want and lewd promise that it almost hurts him to hold himself back. Your hand has reached up and behind your head to grip his hair, pulling him down and over you in a haunting pantomime of how he'd covered you from enemy fire in the hellish woods outside of Foy. You chanting his name like a prayer, babbling as you slip into a state of carnal bliss. When he kisses you it's desperate and messy All jealousy takes a back seat to the feeling of this- your skin under his hands and your breath on his lips and the squeeze of you around him. It doesn't matter, none of those other men and their understandable attraction to you matters because you are undeniably his. You chose him- you chose him when he was the picture of health and when he was nearly dead on an operating table. You'd held his hand as he healed and you'd taken him as your husband in a shelled out Austrian church. You were his, and that was all because you wanted to be. Chuck didn't need anything more then that in life, he was happy and content.

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potatosoldier · 3 years

Text

Are you still there?

/Part 7/

I am hot, I am sweaty, and I am crammed into a small cot surrounded by equally sweaty men. It was the 6th of September, and we had just boarded the Great Samaria a few hours ago. We were now on a journey to Europe.

How they managed to jam us into this ship, I have no clue. It isn’t like there is 20 men over the capacity of this ship. No, this ship was made for 1000 passengers and now there were 5000 men from the 506th shoved in. I could have made the choice and went to the officers and made my stay there, I want to be near the men.

“Joe, darling, your shoulders are like barn doors, I can’t fit”

Oh yes, as the passenger count was so high, the cots were shared by two soldiers. I was sharing with Joe. At first I also considered going to Skip, but then I came to a conclusion that I could stand Joe’s singing in this suppressed place, but listening to Skip talk non-stop would make me an irritable person. And I truly did not want to become that. These men are my companions and I want to treat the with the respect they deserve. I did not have the right to become rude even in these circumstances.

Also, if I was put too high, Bull would have to carry me around like a baby monkey.

“For God’s sake, just turn the other way”, Joe grunts as I try to maneuver myself without jostling the cot too much.

“Joe, please move”, I whine and try to push him. He rasps and looks at me teasing smile on his lips.

“you wanna continue trying, Bambi”, he teases. I scrunch my brows and pout. Why did he have to make this so difficult. Then I put on my most motherly glare. “Joseph Toye, this is not how you should behave”, I scold.

He chuckles once again, but proceeds to move over so I’m finally able to fit in next to him on the cot. It was a tight squeeze, both of us were on top of the bed springs, but we tried to be so that it’s the least uncomfortable. Physically and mentally.

“So you told Muck, huh?”, he whispers once we are in and he hears Skip talking while making his way around the ship. I nod as we both look at the cot above us. “You sure that was a good idea?”, he asks. I could hear in his voice that he didn’t doubt Skip personally, but he was just checking in.

I smile. “He has been good to me since I came here, He won’t betray me now. And it does feel good to let it out”, I tell. He nods.

“So, what do you think about going to Europe?”, he asks. I shrug. “I’m glad I’m here, maybe we can speed up the process of ending this war and Matias and dad can go back home”, I answer. Matias was my older brother. I think he is the reason I’m so fond of Skip and Luz, Matias was such a jokester too. It broke my heart to think of him out there somewhere, fighting for his life.

“I’m glad we’re going to Europe too. Hitler gets one of these right across the windpipe, Roosevelt changes Thanksgiving to Joe Toye Day and 10,000 a year for the rest of my fucking life”, he says in a much louder voice.

I look at him trying not to laugh. “Joe, I promise I’ll celebrate Joe Toye Day from now on even if you don’t succeed”, I manage to say without laughing.

“What if we don’t get to Europe, what if they send us to North Africa”, Smokey points out from above us.

The conversation doesn’t awfully concern me, till I hear these words: “ I like Winters, he is a good man. But when bullets start flying, I don’t know if I want a Quaker doing my fighting for me”

My head turns sharply up towards Bill’s bed. My blood starts running cold with the rage I’m feeling. He had the audacity to condemn someone by their religion and to add to that doubt MY husbands skills in combat.

“How do you know he’s a Quaker?”

“He ain’t Catholic”

I’m about to jump up and teach the boy some manners when, Joe apparently notices my open mouth and shoves my head under a blanket. And by shoving, I mean shoving. Nothing gentle about it. I can only imagine the looks people are throwing at us.

“Okay Bambi up we go” he then says and starts lifting me up, my head still covered. I can hear Liebgott and Bill still having a spat and am about to turn to go towards the noise, but Joe keeps me covered till we are away from the scene.

“You need some fresh air, you angry hedgehog, to he deck we go”, Joe says and pushes people around to make us way forward. He really saved me from making a mistake.

With Richard

The Boat was far from comfortable, that was the only thing Richard Winters would say to the circumstances at hand. Last time he had been this hot, was while running in full gear in Toccoa.

“They really filled this Troop ship to the brink”, Lewis says looking just as sweaty as his friend. “If I’m going to be this hot, I’d rather have 5000 ladies here. At least there would be something to look at”, Nix says.

“Yeah, and by the time you’d make it to your destination they’d have eaten you alive, after finding out about Kathy”, Dick teases. Keeping your mind light in situations like this was the key to keeping your head together. His friend had his own lightness hidden in Dick’s footlocker.

Lewis let’s out his trademark chuckle. “Easy for you to say”, he snarks back. Dick knows exactly what he means. It was easy for Dick to judge other men for seeking affection because his own wife was there.

Dick only looks at his friend with a dry look and they remain silent for a while.

“Never thought this day would actually come, of course I knew it was coming, but hell we’ve come a long way”, Nix says and takes a swig from his flask. Dick lets out a small huff. It really was a miracle that Sobel hadn’t found some way to get rid off them.

“You think we can make it Nix, back home I mean”, Dick asks thoughtfully and plays with his fingers. It was a curious question, not one of sadness or fear.

“That’s not for us to decide, but hey I’ll drink to the thought of seeing your children some day”; he says raising his flask in what was supposed to be a happy remark, but when he sees Dick’s face, all the happiness goes away.

He furrows his brows and looks at his friend more closely. “You okay Dick?”, he asks while still studying his now pale friend. Dick just continues looking ahead like he was not there at all.

“Yeah, Nix, I’m okay”, he finally whispers and they drop the topic replacing it with silence.

Sonja / Day 3 on the Samaria/

“Better out than in, there we go”, George says as he brushes some of my hair back. I had been throwing up for the last two hours. I wasn’t sure was it the sea or the smell of the fish soup that made me so nauseous.

“I fe- ugh”, I puke again in the middle of my sentence. I was not the only one throwing up, no. But I felt very embarrassed to be in this situation. I was a nurse, not a patient.

Suddenly a pounding of boots is heard and I feel someone place themselves on the other side of me. “There we go, a Hershey bar for the lady. Got it from Winters, tried scrounging and he was kind enough to offer when he passed”, Skip says as he opens the wrapper for me.

And what I can take from his story is that, that he went to tell Richard I’m unwell and Richard gave him the bar.

“Thank you”, I whisper and take the piece Skip snaps me. Luz takes the bucket from my hands and gives water to rinse my mouth. “For a small lady, you sure puke your guts out like a grown man”, Luz teases.

“Shut up, I’m only three inches shorter than you”, I grumble and lean against him while savoring the chocolate to get the taste of vomit out. He only chuckles and makes a mocking “UGH” noise.

“Thank you boys for getting me out, I thought Joe was going to kill me”,I giggle softly. They both huff in laughter. “I mean you did puke on his chest”, Skip points out. I grimace, that I sure did. His chest and neck where running with fish soup after I retched on him.

“Someone get her a bucket, fucking hell, if someone isn’t gonna help her, Imma kill every fucking one of you”

“Skip, go get us some cards, I don’t think she can handle the sweat level yet”, George says as he strokes my back, as I gag again a little.

How long was I going to be stuck on this boat.

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

The night was awful, I felt sickly and I noticed that Joe was turning more than usual, probably because of the back pain. We were lucky enough to fit on the cot so that we could both sleep in it, but nothing seemed to get me catch sleep. I was afraid of throwing up again.

“Nurse”, I hear a whisper. I jump and look up. Even in the dim lighting I can recognize my husband. I carefully stand without jostling Joe too much, and gently put the blanket on him again, after raising it up a little to get a little cool air on him.

“Yes sir?”,I ask professionally as I stand before Richard. He just nods his head towards the deck.

As we make it to the deck we quickly and quietly find a corner with no one sleeping in it. He takes a look around and has a seat. Before taking something out from his pocket: chocolate.

“Richard, you don’t have a sweet tooth, how do you have all these”;I ask looking at him oddly.

“I got this from Nix, he was willing to sacrifice it for I quote ‘holy business’“, I giggle at my husbands expression as he quotes Lewis. I take the bar from him and put it next to me. I honestly felt too sickly to eat it now.

I look at Dick biting my lip. He seems to notice the softness in my gaze as he utters a gentle “come here”, and gently guides me to lay my upper body onto his legs.

“Don’t worry, darling. I can keep watch, and if they ask more, I can say that I was just looking out for you as your officer”, he soothes and rubs his hand along my arms. Which feels amazing on my sore muscles.

“I think it’s time to tell the men soon anyway. They need to get used to the idea before we jump, and I think that they know you well enough to not judge you”, he then brings up. I nod against his leg, this living in secrecy was starting to become more and more difficult.

I then squeeze my eyes shut as nausea takes over me. “Richie I think I might puke”,I whimper. I always got very stressed when I had nausea, and sensitive. “I don’t wanna puke on you”,I say and try to rise, but in all honestly rising just made it worse.

Richard guides me back gently. “If you puke on me, then you do. Don’t worry about that. Let’s just get you comfortable”

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

On the 15th of September we finally made it to Liverpool. I was still quite pale after the ride. Eating had really become a task, and without food, you lose strength. But with the threats from Joe and gentle urging from Carwood Lipton, I was able to get food down.

“You feelin’ good ma’am?”, comes a familiar Arkansas drawl as I give a happy sigh to be on the steady ground. I chuckle “Aye, sir, better than ever”, I say teasingly. He mock salutes me and we start walking for our shelter for the night.

I walk on Joe’s side keeping a firm hold of his sleeve as I had been told by Lip.

“We don’t want you getting lost, you are harder to find than most of us”

At first I had wanted to tell him that I am a grown woman with military training, but his truly caring gaze changed my plans. If I could express in words, how thankful I was for that mans care I would shout it at his too humble face. Okay, these boys are really rubbing off on me, I wouldn’t shout, maybe gently lecture.

Tomorrow we would be going to our final destination.

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

Aldbourne was vastly different from all the places I’ve had my training and from what the men told me, it was also very different to them. We were in the middle of a village! We could actually see other people.

“Come on Sonja, please, please please”, Skip was begging on his knees. We had gotten our passes to go to Swindon for a Saturday night dance this weekend. The boys were all excited about being able to go and actually getting the passes this time.

“Skip, you know I get uncomfortable with many people, also it’ll be nice to have some time alone”, I try to reason as he keeps pushing my skirt and blouse towards my hands.

He looks at me with his green puppy eyes. “please, Bambi, for me, Joe is coming too. Aren’t you? Hear that Joe is there too”, he begs. I sigh and look at both of them.

“Okay, but when I say want to come back, I will”, I say pointing at him.

“Yes!!”

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

I didn’t put on my skirt and blouse, instead I took out my light blue swing dress and let my hair down. It was nice to feel girly again, and actually have a reason to get dolled up. That was not the best part, the best part was actually putting my wedding ring onto my finger. I gave a small kiss to my cross and said a little prayer of gratitude before going to the boys.

The boys were happy to have me, their lady with them.

“Your husband is one lucky bastard”. George had said when he saw me. Bull had even blushed when I gave him a kiss on the cheek as thanks for helping me with my jacket.

All the girls in the dance were dolled up too. I found the music in there absolutely delightful. It might have not been completely in my taste, but I appreciate it nonetheless. Also the sound of shoes clapping against the floor was beautifully relaxing.

“Would my lady like to dance?”, Skip asks bowing at the waste. I shake my head at his antics but take his hand none the less. And boy did I make a mistake. I was tosses from Skip to George, to Bull, to Joe, to Don (who mind you, was an excellent dancer!) and god knows who. The Easy boys really decided to hit the floor.

Once I was able to make a run from them, I found Joe drinking a beer at one of the tables. “You having fun?”; he asks and takes a long sip. I nod and smile widely.

“I can’t remember the last time I’ve been able to dance so much! But I do wonder”, I bite my lip. “Am I a bad person to be here, without Richard?”; I whisper.

Joe shakes his head. “You’re too good for this world. There ain’t nothing wrong with you being here. He trusts you and you trust him. And hell, you were giggling like a school girl when you realized you still had time to go to him after this. You aren’t committing any sin”, he soothes with a little teasing making me blush.

Who can blame me, I just want to grab my Robert Burns poems and go read with Richards head on my lap. Was that really too much to ask for? He was my husband.

We continue our conversation, with me sipping a cup of water, until I hear a similar interruption as in the boat.

Bill and Skinny make it to our table chatting. “He might be a good man, but Quakers aren’t meant for this shit” My patience had been running thin with these comments for so long and now my patience was all run out.

“He is not a Quaker”, I snap. Bill turns to me with an odd look on his face.

“And how do you know that Bambi”, many of the Easy men were now near our table from hearing my raised voice.

I don’t know what made it come out of my mouth, but this did anyway: “If my husband was a Quaker I think I’d be the one who knows that and not you”

I quickly realize what I said and plant my palm against my face, trying to remember how to breathe. I hear Joe sigh from next to me: “Well, now you fucking said it”

@iilovemusic12us

@georgeparisole

#dick winters x reader #dick winters #richard winters x reader #richard winters #band of brothers oc #band of brothers imagines #Band of brothers #lewis nixon #carwood lipton #george luz #skip muck #warren muck #bull randleman #bill guarnere

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televisionboy · 4 years

Note

Please could you do Lieb and Guarnere fighting in Currahee except it’s over you?? And if you don’t add me to your tag list I might die 😅

Authors note: a little shorter than an actual fic, a little longer than a drabble. if you’re ever writing, please please listen to @liebegott’s playlists, they’re so calm and soothing. Yes, I put a “The Breakfast Club” reference in there!

Taglist: @adamantiumdragonfly @punkgeekchic @thatsonefishyboi @inglourious-imagines @legendarics @raven-has-no-gender2272 @prvtbullshit @3milesup @noneofurbusinez @gutsandgloryhere @sunnyshifty @meteora-fc @band-of-bitches @alienoresimagines @murphyism @we-always-hit-our-ass @wexhappyxfew @deldontplay @lovingunderratedcharacters @contrabandhothead @tremendousjudgesuitcasestudent @georgeluzwarmhugs @sunflowerchuck @hoosiers-blanket @speirs-crazy-ass @mrseasycompany @vat69nix @stressedinadress @tyenesnakes @ohmydazeee @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant

Treat You Better Than He Can

Bill Guarnere and Joe Liebgott fighting over you during that one scene that made us all hot 🥵

The shaky boat wasn’t helping anyone’s nerves, or to calm down. It was, in fact, adding to it. Especially Joe Liebgott and Bill Guarnere. Face to face, breathing uneven from both of the men. The uneven bobbing of the boat messing up card games and adding to the men’s seasickness, it was torture.

You were in the back, playing cards with Skip and Penkala. Training was rough in Toccoa, Sobel was incredibly harsh on you specifically. Being the only woman in combat. When he yelled at you, you bit back everything in you not to sass him back, of course you had caught the eyes of two hotheaded men, god forbid anyone call them that though.

“Full house, boys” you slowly layed your cards down in a row and Skip and Penkala groaned, laying their cards down across from you. You giggled “You’re too easy to play” Alex shook his head “You know, I could’v-” he began but was cut off when the sound of yells and the sight of four fists in 2 men’s faces.

Moments before..

“I bet you boys a hundered bucks that I’ll have Y/N by the end of this war” Guarnere proudly stated, taking the cigarette out of his mouth long enough to talk. This, of course, gained the attention of the California boy and Bull laughed and shook his head but didn’t look up from his pipe “I could’ve sworn she would’ve been with Joe by now”

“He’s been chasing after her too, Bull” another voice was heard, most likely George’s from the top bunk. Joe shook his head and jumped down from the bunk beds. Only to be met face to face with Bill

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Liebgott coldly said. “I think I’m Bill Guarnere”

He rolled his eyes “You’re not her type, anyways” Guarnere looked at the wood floor that was already shaky from the waves and then slowly up at Joe “And whos to say you are?” No answer “Whats her type then, if not me? Skinny boys who can’t own up to liking a girl?” That was the straw that broke the camels back and Bill was met with two fists reaching for his eyes

Now, your head snapped around at the commotion, sick to your stomach to see your two friends fighting “What the fuck are they fighting about?” Skip glanced at Alex, knowingly “you” Muck whispered under his breath. You whipped your head around “What?” You whispered. “War, he said war. Y/N”

You stared at Penkala for a moment but looked back at Liebgott and Guarnere, only able to see the actions. Which was Joe backing away from Bill but still getting ready to cuss him out

“You think you can get Y/N? We’ll see if she chooses a guy who can’t keep it in his pants or me”

“You could be confused as both of those” Guarnere spat and went back to his bed. Joe’s next words made Bill turn around, however.

“Let’s end this right now, you don’t talk to her, you don’t look at her, and you don’t even think about her. Do you understand me?” Joe yelled, pointing a finger in the air at Guarnere. Bill jabbed one back at the chest

“I don’t talk to you, I don’t look at you, and I sure as hell wouldn’t want to think about you. That’s what I’ll do” he said, so quietly, it was scary.

You began to grew anxious, looking at the two fighting. Hearing your name thrown around and Joe telling Bill not to talk to you. Malarkey took in account of your face and glanced over his shoulder, winking at Skip and Penkala “Hey Y/N!” He hollered from across the boat, not bothering to move from his spot

You looked over at Donald, a slight smile on your face. Whatever he said turned out to cheer you up

“My ma’ll love you when we get home together” He said, not looking up from his magazine and making Bill and Joe’s heads snap around at the speed of light in utter shock.

Everyone else equally shocked at the chaos Donald had knowingly just created.

#band of brothers #bill guarnere headcanons #bill guarnere x reader #bill guarnere imagine #bill guarnere #band of brothers headcanons #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #joe liebgott band of brothers #joe liebgott headcanons #joe liebgott #joe liebgott imagine #joe liebgott x reader

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sergeant-spoons · 3 years

Text

Scarf

Pairing: Joe Toye x Female OC

Word count: 1759

Tone: Fluffy fluff

Summary: Bastogne has taken a toll on all of Easy. She’s been up for over two days, and she’s exhausted, cold, and lonely. Joe notices, and offers her a small but meaningful gift.

The cold still bothers Louise Hatchett.

She's been stationed with the rest of Easy Company in Bastogne for two months now, and by now, she’d thought she’d be used to the wintry weather. Truth be told, she didn’t expect to still be here, in the middle of the woods, defending this little French town for reasons only her higher-ups understand (and even then, some don’t), as the new year begins. January in the Northern Hemisphere: she’s used to it. Lived through twenty-one of ‘em throughout her life so far. Mittens, scarves, heavy coats, warm hats, and the like were commonly hung at the front of her closet from late October to mid-April. Growing up on a farm in Maine conditioned her to these sorts of temperatures, she’d assumed.

Now, as she drags one foot after the other, fending to keep her eyes open, she barely notices how much she’s shivering. Beside her, Toye and Liebgott share a worried glance. She’s one of the strongest soldiers they have. She never complains. They both know that even if she was frostbitten from head to toe, she wouldn’t express any sort of annoyance or disappointment. Like a little ray of sunshine, she is- well, she usually is. The last few months have gotten to her, they’ve gotten to everyone.

Back at Toccoa, she would sing songs she heard on the radio growing up. Sometimes the fellas would teach her new ones, and she’d hum those too. Even on the grueling runs up Currahee, they could always count on her to start up a round or two of song, keeping the group’s morale up. Sobel hated her, and thus the men loved her even more. She’s the only woman in Easy, but that hardly means anything to the boys- she’s one of them, has been since the very start. When replacements question her place in the company, there’s always Guarnere, Lipton, Winters, Nixon, Luz, Liebgott, Toye, Perconte- the list goes on -to stick up for her.

They care about her, especially Joe Toye, which is why he matches his pace with hers and nudges her arm.

“Hey, Finch?”

“Mmm?” She slows her pace, turns a weary gaze to Toye. It’s an endearing nickname, one he gave her back in Toccoa for the way she’d always be singing something, and even now, in the middle of frozen hell, it still brings a small smile to her face.

“Weren’t you on last night’s patrol, too?”

She shrugs, gives a tired laugh. “Yeah. At least tonight’s not as cold.” It’s a false sentiment, but she doesn’t want him to worry about her. They all have plenty to think about without her weighing the burden of her well-being on their minds.

Liebgott chimes in, “Winters sent you back out at 05:00, right?”

“Kinda.” Louise blinks a few times, scrunches up her eyebrows and nose as the urge to sneeze comes, then vanishes. “Needed volunteers for the early watch. Then there was the shelling...” She trails off and shakes her head. “Couldn’t find the heart to try and sleep.”

“So you haven’t slept in, what, two days?” questions Toye.

“Something like that.”

For the second time, Liebgott and Toye share a look. Behind them, Bull Randleman is listening in on the conversation as he keeps to the rear of the patrol. He too is worried about Louise, even though he realizes she doesn’t want to draw attention to her clear exhaustion.

“Well, would you look at that,” she muses, squinting up ahead. The three fallen trees just appearing within view is a welcome sign to the four soldiers, as it means their home base is less than a half-mile away. Liebgott pulls a pack of smokes from his pocket, offers one to each of his companions, and after Toye and Randleman have both accepted, Louise waves her hand, shaking her head lightly. “It’d just put me to sleep,” she mutters.

“You should find a foxhole to cozy up in when we get back,” advises Toye, but she gives a huff of air, her breath forming in a light cloud before her face.

“I’m more useful awake than asleep-”

“Not if you can barely walk two feet without staring at the ground to make sure you don’t trip.”

Louise turns back to frown at Randleman, but she, in fact, stumbles on a broken stick half-buried in the frosted earth, only proving his point. Mumbling a thanks to Toye, who caught her shoulder before she could fall, she turns back forward, rubbing her dry, cracked hands together as if they’ll generate any warmth. All it does is cause bits of split skin to fully open, starting to bleed, and she curses aloud.

The smell of cigarette smoke wafts through the air and Louise starts coughing, muffling the sound in her gloves. “Damnit, Toye, breathe that way,” she scolds him, nodding her head to their shared right. He nods absentmindedly, keeping a careful eye on each step she takes just in case her boot catches on something again. His gaze softens when he sees how she’s trying to bury her neck in her shirt, her collar turned up in an attempt to provide more coverage, and he drops his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out.

“Hey, that was a waste of a good light,” complains Lieb, but Joe ignores him and unravels the emaciated scarf from around his own neck. It’s just a piece of fabric he picked up from an abandoned home back in Carentan- God, that seems like so long ago now -and kept with him on a whim, but when Easy got to Bastogne and the cold started to settle in, he was quickly glad to have it. Now, he drapes it around her neck, but she tries to push it off.

“Joe, c’mon, I’m fine-”

“Just take the damn scarf, Sergeant Hatchett.”

Louise brushes back a loose lock of hair- Liebgott hasn’t the tools to give anyone a haircut anymore, and longer hair helps cover more skin for warmth anyway, so her dirty blonde hair has gotten down to her chin by now -and looks at him for a beat. “Alright.” As she loops it around her neck, wrapping it over her chin, she adds, nudging his arm, “Thank you, Joe.”

He smiles back as they step over the three fallen trees and Liebgott, though he’s itching to tease them both, holds his tongue. Both are his friends, and he knows just how much they like each other, even if neither will say anything about it. It’s been two years since the first handshakes among the paratrooper recruits arriving at Camp Toccoa, two years since Liebgott pointed out Louise amid the crowd to Toye and asked, “Is that a lady?” and he’d responded, running his hand through his hair as he stared at her, “Nah, that’s a paratrooper, just like us.”

The camp slowly comes into sight, mostly buried in foliage and swatches of bare trees for cover, and the four head to the NCO’s makeshift ‘office’ to report their quiet patrol. Joe can’t help but notice Louise is blinking repeatedly, more so than would be natural, as if she’s struggling to keep her eyes open. Randleman sees it too.

“Hatchett, get some rest, we’ll make the report.”

Louise gives him a thankful look and briskly turns toward the foxholes dug into the forest soil before it all froze, becoming nearly as hard as rocks.

“You too, loverboy,” mutters Liebgott, and though Toye smacks his friend’s arm, he still turns away, following Louise.

Jogging to catch up to her, Joe points out the nearest foxhole, but she passes it by. “It’s better if I’m closer to the action, I’ll be able to wake up quicker if-”

“If nothing.” Promptly, he takes her by the arm and leads her back toward the foxhole a few feet behind them. She doesn’t try to resist as he nudges her forward and slides herself down, rolling aside against the slanted walls until he can’t see her under the loose tarp covering anymore.

“Coming?” she calls up, and he smiles to himself.

“Yep.”

The slight cascade of loose frozen dirt, almost like pebbles, that he knocks loose as he slides down is a familiar sound to Louise. She wishes it wasn’t, that she hadn’t spent so much time here already that the noise of a fellow soldier coming down into a frozen foxhole has become normal to her. It’s a little darker under the tarp, but the sunshine, offering no promise of heating up the world as the day goes on, is still noticeable when she closes her eyes.

These foxholes aren’t the biggest, so she’s not too far away from Joe, who has his eyes closed and his hands tucked in his pockets. Cautiously, she leans into him, burying her face in his ODs, and it’s only a moment later that she feels his arm wrap around her.

“Too bright?” he mutters.

“Mhmm.”

A sort of wistfulness crosses her consciousness- what if she were curled up against him like this in a real bed, somewhere safe and warm? She blushes at the idea but doesn’t tuck it away in the back of her mind just yet. It’s a nice thought, and she opens her eyes for a moment, pulling her hands from her pockets and reaching up toward her neck. Joe stirs, but doesn’t say anything as she half-unwraps his scarf from around her neck. She smiles as she hesitates for just a moment, taking in the tranquil expression on his face, then drapes half the cloth over his neck.

Joe feels the familiar cloth of his substitute scarf fall over his neck. He opens one eye to see Louise leaning her head back on his chest, tucking herself under his arm again, and his heart warms. It’s a small gesture, but it means a good deal to him, whether or not she realizes it. Once a shade of red, torn from a curtain, the pattern of roses long-faded in certain spots where the fabric has continuously rubbed against his skin, the pink scarf lays over both their necks now, providing a bit of shared warmth. He pulls her closer against him and, to his delight, doesn’t miss how she smiles against his chest and leans into his body. Once he’s placed a soft kiss on the top of her head, he closes his eyes again and relishes in this rare moment of peace before slumber comes upon them both, granting each the best sleep they’ve had in weeks.

#toye #joe toye #toye one shot #joe toye one shot #band of brothers #BoB #hbo war #hbo war show #hbo #easy company #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers x oc #band of brothers one shot #joe toye imagine #toye imagine

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himbowelsh · 4 years

Note

Drunk BOB guys??? Who are the softie hug-loving cuddlers and who are the loud and obnoxious ones? The ones who break out of their shell when intoxicated? The unusually quiet ones? The ones who throw it tf back when Usher comes on? I'd love to hear some thots

oooooh my god okay okay, here are the biggest thots

Richard Winters: Umm, alcohol whom? Has never been drunk in his life and doesn’t intend to start now. He gets all the buzz he needs off the exhilaration of a brisk jog, or a cool glass of water.

Lewis Nixon: The Literal Alcoholic. Thinks he’s more fun when he’s drunk than when he’s sober; is actually not a very fun drunk. Is even worse when he’s sobering up! At this point, he has to have some liquor in his system 99% of the time, otherwise his body feels like it’s out to destroy itself. (Alcoholism is a disease, boys and girls.) Nix buzzed is Nix at peak performance; he’s friendly, efficient, and capable. Nix drunk is a slowly spiralling plane crash. He usually passes out before he hits the ground, but god forbid he gets there, because... it’s messy. He can occasionally be a messy, emotional, overdramatic drunk, but only when he’s really overdone it.

Carwood Lipton: The Respectable Drunk. A very calm, kind of sleepy drunk. Doesn’t get drunk often, even though he holds his liquor well, because he doesn’t prefer it --- when he’s had a few, he prefers to just watch the people around him, smiling and only half paying attention. His mind tends to wander when he’s drunk. Drunk Lip does have one fatal weakness: if he’s out with his partner, and his partner shows even the slightest bit of encouragement, Lip will get riled up very quickly. He goes from calm drunk to horny drunk in a very short time; will eagerly press his partner up against the wall if given the chance. (Drunk Lip is way more inclined to PDA.)

Ron Speirs: The Soft Drunk. Literally, he’s such a tender drunk; he has absolutely no balance, and is a little confused, but he’s sweet, okay? Ron is far more expressive when he’s drunk; he gets touchier, ramblier, kinder. Drunk Ron has faith in humanity where Sober Ron gave up long ago. He’s a really relaxed drunk, unlikely to go off and do anything wild, but he wants to be around other people --- around his friends. Ron never has a good time when he drinks alone. (Plus, he’s got a reputation to uphold, and only certain people are allowed to see him with his guards down.)

Harry Welsh: The Bionic Drunk. Nothing can injure him; nothing can kill him. Many things have tried. Harry has done so much dumb shit when intoxicated, things that would have wounded him in a heartbeat if he was sober, and has never gotten a scratch to show for it. He’s a very fun drunk --- he laughs a lot, is very affectionate, and super pleasant to be around --- but common sense and self-preservation goes out the window. Look out, because he might too, if someone dared him.

Eugene Roe: The Changeling Drunk. Who is this man and what did he do with Doc Roe? Drunk Gene is... an experience, alright? His inhibitions are gone. Suddenly, his personality has been turned up to eleven; he’s extroverted, he’s exciting, he laughs loudly and jokes around... he’s dancing on top of the bar, holy shit. Is a very fun time, but you have to keep an eye on him, because he sometimes goes off and does something insane, a-la-Sober-Speirs. Drunk Gene fears nothing, including himself.

Joe Toye: The Depressed Drunk. Zoinks, Scoob. Drunk Joe is actually willing to talk about his emotions --- and maybe he shouldn’t, because he’s got some sad stuff going on there, man. Drinking is supposed to numb your worries, but Joe often finds the opposite is the case; his burdens somehow get heavier, harder to ignore, and if he’s allowed to slip into them he’ll end up dwelling in them for the rest of the night. So long as he’s around buddies who are actively keeping his spirits up, he’s a decent drunk guy to have around. If neglected, however, Drunk Joe may shed a few tears into his Guinness.

George Luz: The Showman Drunk. His jokes and impressions get way sloppier, but somehow he’s twice as hilarious, so he can get away with it. Drunk George is way more animated, with a seemingly endless supply of energy; he teases everybody, he laughs the loudest in the room, and he really seems like he’s just come out to have a good time. The kind of buddy you want to get drunk with. (Be warned: comes with a rarely activated Depressed Drunk mode, when he shuts off and wants to be left the hell alone. Maybe his battery runs out after a while or something. During this time, George is feeling a lot of things very strongly; this condition is best treated with a cozy blanket and glass of water. Very rare, but once you’ve seen him in this state, you can never unsee it.)

Bill Guarnere: The Loud Drunk. Is there a difference between sober Bill and drunk Bill? Debateable. Drunk Bill is just Bill turned up to eleven. He doesn’t actually get drunk a lot --- somehow he ends up the designated driver, and minds less than he should --- but social drinking usually leads to Bill shouting over a crowded bar. He’s usually up for a good time, he just has no volume control. (Also, the accent. It thickens. Can someone translate, please? Is he speaking English? What the hell is he saying?)

Babe Heffron: The Weird Drunk. Drunk Babe will break it down on the dance floor (should he? maybe not) and do his president rooster impression in public, but he’s equally likely to just... confuse everybody else. He’s got a lot of thoughts. A lot of feelings. Some of them are about the meaning of life, some of them are about the best kind of sandwich bread, some of them are about whether the Loch Ness Monster has a favorite type of bird. He talks so much when he’s drunk, and will ramble anyone’s ear off about any of these topics. Escape while you can.

Joseph Liebgott: The Volatile Drunk. Really a mixed bag; you never know what you’re going to get from him. Sometimes, Joe can be a very fun drunk, the life of the party, willing to do anything anybody dares him to. That’s if he’s drinking in a good mood. If he starts drinking in a sour mood, it’ll only get worse from there. Honestly, he can be a mean drunk. He lashes out at people, gets angry, sometimes starts crying... it’s not great. You have to keep tabs on him while he’s drinking, because if his mood looks like it’s dipping, he should not be allowed any more alcohol.

David Kenyon Webster: The Emotional Drunk. He’s just... got a lot of feelings! And he really wants to talk about them! Becomes extremely talkative while drunk; this is not always a good thing, because he’s pronouncedly less eloquent. Drunk Web is very passionate about politics... and the environment... and marine biology... and the commercialization of public holidays. He has something to say about most things. Sometimes he’s just muttering to himself, and no one can keep up with what he’s saying. Makes so many notes, either in his phone or scribbling them down on napkins, because he’s “going to need to remember this”, but they’re all illegible come morning. Feels things very strongly. Might cry.

Johnny Martin: The Feral Drunk. Wrangling Johnny when he’s had a few too many is an experience. Holy shit, this man knows no fear. Drunk Johnny has 5x less patience for everyone’s bullshit, and wants them to know it. The amount of bar fights this man has gotten into... the best part is, he’s never lost. (Yeah, because he has Bull right there to make sure his drunk friend doesn’t get himself killed.)

Frank Perconte: The Confused Drunk. Only kind of knows where he is. Complains a lot; puts things down, misplaces them, and blames someone else for taking them. Drunk Perco has a ‘Real Housewives at Brunch’ mode, only activated when someone gives him tequila; he will scream and throw drinks. Otherwise he’s just kind of tiresome and needs someone to make sure he makes it home okay.

Floyd Talbert: The Mom Drunk. Yes, he did just do four shots of gin, but he’s still going to make sure everyone else is drinking water and not wandering off with anyone creepy. Drunk Floyd’s got an eye on everyone; he’s kind of the mama hen wrangling all her chicks, making sure they don’t stray far. He parties like a frat boy, but will wrangle everyone like a girl scout mother.

Shifty Powers: The Missing Drunk. What the hell? What happened, where did he go? He was sitting right there a second ago --- when he’s drunk, Shifty tends to wander. He just likes the quiet. His friends will always find him in bizarre places, after a few minutes of panicked searching. Once, he was laying on top of a car; once he was on the club’s roof. He’s fine, he knows where he is, he’s just thinking about stuff.

Donald Malarkey: The Absurdly Lucky Drunk. He’s got some Irish faeries looking out for him or something, because Drunk Don is literally living his best life. If he gambles, he’s going to win. If he misplaces his wallet, he’s going to find it with an extra $30 inside. If he trips, he’s going to land in an attractive person’s lap. Everyone wants to be in proximity to Drunk Don, not only because he’s a pretty good (if emotional) time, but because some of his luck might rub off.

Skip Muck: The Giggly Drunk. What’s so funny? No one knows. Skip might not even know, but he’s going to laugh anyways, because everything is hilarious. He somehow tells even better jokes when drunk, but he laughs at them himself, so that measures it out. He effortlessly makes himself the life of the party; Skip will get up and karaoke with the band, cheer all his friends on in their dumb shit, drink way more than he reasonably should... going out drinking with Skip is always a great time.

Herbert Sobel: The Alarmingly Fun Drunk. No, I’m not going to elaborate. Fill in the mental images yourself.

#winters and i say teetotaler rights #headcanons #band of brothers #hbo war

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