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b00ks1ut · 5 months

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It’s All About Trust

Joe Liebgott X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, war, fluff (an attempt anyway I think), swearing, Briefly mention of reader being a medic, reader has a shit ton of siblings (relatable), not that many physical descriptions if any, mentions of death, normal Band of Brothers stuff

Sorry if this is bad. I’ve never written any BoB fanfiction and really have like hardly any writing experience at all so hopefully this isn’t horrible. Please give me feed back if you want. Thank you! Also sorry for the ending. It’s kinda abrupt but it’s the best I could get lol

Bois Jacques is hell. A very very cold hell. Nothing could truly combat the cold that seeps into everyone around me. Not even the plainish slop they feed us in an attempt at food. Or in the current case, cold, hard “pancakes”, or that’s what Domingus says they are.

Don pokes at his and calls after our ever so kind cook, “Joe these smell like my armpit!”

“At least your armpit is warm.” Skip grumbles from Malarkey’s side as he holds his pancake up for emphasis.

“You want syrup with that?” Domingus sasses back to him.

“Joe, be honest, what’s in these things anyway?” Don asks the retreating man.

“Nothing you won’t eat, Malarkey.” He replies.

“I won’t eat Malarkey.” Spina shoots back quickly causing us all grouped up to let out a chorus of laughs.

Julian brings back the topic of Babe and Spina’s run in with a German on their search for 3rd Battalion. “Hey, maybe Hinkle would like your share, huh?”

This happens to hit my funny bone and I let out a snort leading to the rest of the men’s laughter to only further increase until Peacock comes around looking for Dike.

“Try battalion CP, sir.” I tell the man. The rest of us wait for him to walk away on his hunt for the company CO before we break our into giggles again.

“Try Paris.” Skip laughs.

“Try Hinkle.” Malarkey adds, only increasing our laughter and before I know it tears are pricking my eyes.

Spina begins his less than great German impression and I have to leave before I piss myself laughing.

I seem to run into a brick wall in my way back to my foxhole, tears of laughter still stinging my eyes.

“Sorry ‘bout that (y/n/n).” A deep southern voice speaks from above me.

I take a look and send a smile at the blonde who’s got me held by the shoulders.

“You’re all good Bull, no harm done.” I tell him as I step out of his hold. “Sorry about that.”

“No harm done.” He repeats before walking away with a smile sent to me.

I continue to make my way back to my temporary home of a frozen foxhole. I look down to find none other than Joseph Liebgott.

I’ve always had a soft spot for the rageful Jew. I don’t think it’s any specific thing that made me so drawn to him but rather his whole entire being.

On the other hand he’s never shown any direct attraction to me. Sure nearly all the men of Easy have sent me a glance at least once but I don’t blame them, I’m one of the few women they’ve interacted with past a single night in around 2 years. But past a glance none of the boys have soberly tried anything.

Especially Joe. He’s not unfriendly to me but he’s never really gone out of his way to interact with me. Not until now.

He’s sitting alone in my foxhole, hands tucked under his armpits, gun leaning in the dirt next to him, and his eyes intensely trained on the line.

“Joe? Did you get lost?” I ask him with a small laugh.

“Uh?” He looks up at me and gives me a small smile. “Not lost, just looking for someone to talk to.”

“Luz’s hole is like 2 over that way.” I told him pointing in the direction of the jester’s own hiding place.

“Well good thing I wasn’t looking for George then, yeah?” He says with his trademark smirk. “I can leave if you’d like me to, though.”

"You're fine, but can I ask a question?" I asked as I began the short descent into the frozen foxhole.

"Shoot away (y/l/n)." The Californian told me, looking back at the line across the cold, white field.

"Why are you talking to me? I'm don't mean to be rude but you've never put any effort into having any interaction with me." I asked sitting across from him and stuffing my frozen hands into my jacket pockets.

"I'm just trying to be friendly. No time better than the present, right? Do you have a problem with that? I can leave if you need me to." Joe had begun to get a little defensive but that's hardly surprising when he'll jump at a chance to be upset, whether isn’t reasonable or not.

"Why now? There's hardly a point in making friends when fucking Babe and Spina barely just ran from a Kraut fucking foxhole so excuse my confusion at your extremely sudden olive branch when we're all about to be sent home either on a stretcher or in an enveloped as a piece of shitty metal with our names stamped into it!" I grabbed my dog tags and shook them for emphasis. It took all of my self control to not start yelling or crying, but I could feel the sting of unshed tears at my eyes. "We're all going to be blown to kingdom come by all of this damned artillery." I whisperd.

"Hey. That's not true. We've made it this far but look at us. Sitting in this frozen hell hole and you're alive, I'm alive, and so is Bull and George, Don, Babe, Doc, Skip, Penkala, Perco, and Buck and Lip." He began listing some of the guys we had been with for so long. "I know it's scary and there's not a single thing I can promise you to make anything seem ok, because I'm scared and I have no clue what's going to happen even 10 seconds from now but one thing I can tell you that might make you feel slightly better is that you've made it this far. You made it through Sobel's shitty personalty, Normandy, Carentan, and I know that if you have made it this far without a scratch then what can take you down? You’re what, one of nine kids back at home, you managed to talk and work your way into the airborne and then continue to be an absolute badass throughout boot camp and combat!” He took a break to really look at me and I took that as an opportunity to defend myself and my feelings.

“I’m really flattered but don’t you think I’ve been too lucky? I’ve come so far with nothing more than a bruise and I’m sure the next thing you know I’ll be blown to pieces! I don’t know why I thought I could do this, Joe! I’m fucking terrified and there’s no where to go!” I can feel the tears beginning to well in my eyes and in a sorry attempt to stop them I look to the sky. “I don’t know what I’m doing here anymore.”

“Hey, you can’t go thinking like that. You’re going to make it out of here alive. I need you to believe that because trust me when I say that you are the toughest damned woman I’ve ever met in my life.” He scooted closer to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side.

The tears couldn’t be held any longer and the dam broke, salty waves rolling down the sides of face into my hair line. A sob escaped my lips before I could muffle it with a fist that had been stuffed between my lips only seconds too late.

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry, (y/n), we’re all feeling it, you’re the only one brave enough to let anyone see it.”

I let out a scoff. ‘Brave’ is not the right word to use. “I’m pathetic. I’m sitting here crying, doing nothing to help anyone around me who has it worse. I’m a a medic for fuck’s sake, I shouldn’t be crying when I routinely see how bad I could have it.”

Joe had only pulled me closer and wrapped his other arm around me, essentially cradling my shaking form. “Don’t you see? That’s what makes you so brave, (y/n). You see all these men in so much pain and put yourself in harms way to make sure they get patched up and safe. You are completely allowed to be overwhelmed and scared and cold and any other feeling a person can have. Not one man here would blame you for being upset right now. They know that as long as you are safe so are they, because when shit goes down you’re always there to help us.” He was talking so softly and so gently that I couldn’t help but cry harder.

“Oh fuck.” I muttered , wiping at my eyes. “I’m sorry Joe.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for Doll.” He gave me an affectionate pat. “Just know that you are such a light in the dark here, and not one of the men in these woods would judge you right now.”

I gave him a weak smile and sniffed, wiping at my eyes and nose. “Thank you, Joe, really. I’m forever grateful.”

“Oh don’t mention it, just don’t go telling anyone that I give out cuddles, I can’t have my reputation ruined like that.” Joe snickered with his smirk and a pat to my side.

“Your secret is safe with me as long as you don’t go telling people I cry.” I tittered and wrapped my arm around his neck.

“Your secret is safe with me, (y/n).”

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

“It’s all about trust. I trust you, you trust me; that’s how this has to work, yeah?” I was nearly bumping noses with him and if I wanted to I could just lean in a little and kiss him. The thought quickly crosses my mind but part of me knows better.

“I trust you, Joseph Liebgott.” I meant it, with more of my heart than I thought was still there.

#band of brothers #hbo war #easy company #joe liebgott #joe liebgott x reader #bob fanfic #bob fandom #bull randleman #donald malarkey #medic reader

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siren-meets · 5 months

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

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

Word count: 1820

Warnings: None! Platonic unless you squint ;)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” said Nora.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#band of brothers #hbowar #hbo war fic #band of brothers fanfiction #bob fanfic #bob fandom #george luz #joe toye #babe heffron #fanfiction #carwood lipton #nora price #we'll meet again #merry luzmas

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land-sh · 7 months

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Goodness, you've been so kind with the trick or treat; I truly appreciate that you've answered to my silliness. I love this fandom; all of you are adorable.

Please feel free to write to me whenever you want and talk to me about anything. Have a happy day. 💕💕💕💕

@liptonwashere @ewipandora @cody-helix02 @iceman-kazansky @malarkgirlypop @1waveshortofashipwreck @heystovepipeboys

#band of brothers #BoB fandom #mutuals #treat or trick #happy halloweeeeeeen #i love you #answer #ask game

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liebgotts-lovergirl · 1 year

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Fire On Fire: Chapter 24

(Ch. 23) ... (Ch. 1)

II Gallery II Symbol Guide II

Summary: "No, I could never give you peace."

WARNINGS: Angst, Espionage, the usual

Taglist: @latibvles @softguarnere @brassknucklespeirs @mccall-muffin @lieutenant-speirs @emmythespacecowgirl @holdingforgeneralhugs @parajumpboots @hxad-ovxr-hxart @sleepisforcowards @indigo-luvers @ax-elcfucker-blog @chaosklutz @mads-weasley @vibing-away @eightysix-baby @ithinkabouttzu

Contemporary: October 25th, 1944. Driel, Netherlands.

After she finished her story, Alix hung her head, unwilling or unable to glance up, afraid of what she’d see reflected back at her in those pools of honey-brown...

Disgust. Shock. Pity.

Or worse: Admiration. Affection. Kindness.

Things she didn’t deserve, especially not from Joe.

She hadn’t even realized she'd reached for his hand until he gave it a light, reassuring squeeze. But she didn’t pull away, instead letting their fingers rest together, lightly intertwined.

In another life, she thought to herself. Maybe if things were different...

For a brief second, the spy allowed her mind to meander, imagining what it might be like to live in a world with no war, no Millicent, no familial pressure, a world where they could love each other out loud with nothing standing in their way.

But as Alix studied the subtle burgundy of her chipped nail polish, the ink blotches on Joe's fingertips brought her crashing back to earth.

That wasn't the world they lived in.

That wasn't a world she'd ever see.

The soft rasp of gravel in Joe’s voice brought her focus back.

"That Larsson guy really threatened to kick you out 'cause you didn’t wanna kill a fuckin' kid?"

Alix nodded and she could hear a dangerous, razor-sharp edge enter his tone but it wasn't directed at her.

"I'd like to meet the guy."

It was a simple statement but the way Joe had said "meet" sounded an awful lot like "murder".

"You wouldn't like him," Alix replied with a rueful grimace and Joe chuckled darkly and moved to crack his knuckles.

"Yeah well, after me and him go a few rounds in the ring, I bet he wouldn't like me too much either."

Alix turned her head away to hide her smile and there was another beat of silence between the pair before Joe spoke again.

“Y'know that’s not all you are, right?”

Alix's head jerked up in surprise before she could stop it.

"What?"

"A killer," the technician clarified and she could feel the physical shift of him rubbing the back of his neck, scruffing up his light brown hair.

"I don't give a shit what he…what they told you. You're so much fuckin' more than that."

Alix pressed her lips into a grimace.

She wanted to believe him, she really did. But after a month of silence and then that letter…everything he said just rang hollow.

“You don’t know me," the spy mumbled defensively. “Not really.”

If you did, you wouldn’t want me.

But Joe gently leaned his shoulder against hers again.

"I do though," he replied, the light rasp in his voice contrasting with the softness of his tone. "Better than ya think."

"Prove it then," Alix challenged as she crossed her arms and Joe tilted his head in thought, clearly pondering an opener.

“'Kay, well, your favorite color is red–”

Alix opened her mouth to correct him but Joe was quicker.

“I know, I know, 'scarlet'…” He commented with exaggerated air quotes before adding wryly, “But it's the same thing, which is fuckin’ red.”

“Is that all you’ve got?” the spy inquired cynically as she bit back a giggle at his dramatics.

“And you got a smart-ass comment for everything,” Joe teased before deftly tugging a pack of Chesterfields from his pocket.

“Want one?”

Alix nodded eagerly, thanking him as she plucked one from the packaging but when the technician retrieved his Zippo, Alix hesitated.

She knew better than to bring her face closer so he could give her a light.

She would have to lean in close to his lips, almost as if… she shook her head, trying to banish the thought.

His heart belongs to someone else, she reminded herself. It wouldn’t be right.

Noticing her reluctance, Joe’s face seemed to fall, but he handed her the lighter anyway, his fingertips brushing ever so slightly against hers as he pressed the smooth metal into her grasp.

Alix tried to ignore the giddy sensation and focused on lighting her cigarette while he resumed his Herculean task.

"You never take your rosary off," he pointed out after a slow drag. “And you say you don’t believe it does anything but when you get nervous, you still bite your lip and reach for it anyway.”

Did she really? The spy was impressed and a little intrigued but still tried her hardest to feign nonchalance for pride’s sake.

“Congratulations,” Alix remarked dryly. “You have eyes.”

Joe cocked an eyebrow.

“Shit, alright, tough crowd,” he quipped with a smirk.

“Lemme think… You only drink Gin & Tonics now ‘cause ya went a little too hard on the vodka at some party once and spent the rest of the night upchucking into the bushes.”

Alix felt her cheeks beginning to flush, now wishing distinctly that she would evaporate on the spot.

Had she really done that? She only hoped to God it hadn’t been in front of him.

But Joe seemed to take her silent mortification as skepticism because he added, “Muck told me."

"That bastard," Alix muttered but there was no venom behind her words and Joe chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

“Go easy on the guy,” the Californian joked with a sheepish grin. “It was a while back. I just got a good memory, ‘specially when it comes to you, I guess.”

Alix took a quick drag and wound a strand of her hair around finger absentmindedly, unsure of quite how to respond to his kindness.

“Well thank you… I think?”

“Don’t thank me yet, Ziskeit,” Joe shrugged with an easy smile.

“‘Cause I ain’t done."

He took a short drag, watching the smoke rise in spiraling plumes before giving her a sly look out of the corner of his sparkling brown eyes.

“You left your window unlocked fer me when we were back in Aldbourne so I could get into your room without anybody seein' me–”

He chuckled and teasingly gave her a light nudge.

"--Not that it mattered anyway ‘cause you left me with so many fuckin' hickeys and scratches that our old CO said it looked like I’d been mauled by a fuckin’ bear.”

Alix drew her bottom lip between her teeth and dropped her gaze to the ground, certain now that she was a brilliant shade of crimson.

Joe haphazardly tossed his cigarette away before continuing,

“You been trained in deception or whatever but when it comes to people close to ya, y'can’t lie for shit. Like right now–"

He gently slid a finger under the spy’s chin and gently turned her to face him.

“– Tell me you ain’t got feelings for me.”

Her eyes must’ve looked like saucers.

“W-What?” she choked out, blinking in confusion as her heartbeat stuttering to a near-stop at his sudden proximity.

“Tell me you don't want me, Zees,” he insisted, the huskiness of his voice seeming to slow time and his gaze seemed to flit down to her lips before returning to her eyes.

"'Cause I think you do."

It was a dare but behind his trademark cockiness was a current of desperation, his warm whiskey eyes pleading with her for the truth, whatever it might be.

“Look, you want me outta your life for good, all you gotta do is say it: say you don’t want me and mean it. Yeah, ‘s gonna hurt like a bitch, I'm not gonna bullshit ya, but I gotta know, Zees. 'Cause right now...Me and you and Doc, I-"

His voice broke and he took a second before running his thumb lightly across her cheek, brushing away a tear.

She hadn't even realized she'd been crying.

The paratrooper set his jaw and when he spoke again, there was a quiet determination in his voice, as though he was forcing it under control.

"Zees, if I gotta love you from a distance, then that's just what I gotta do.”

Alix faltered, momentarily lost for words, her stunned expression mirrored in the glossy reflection of Joe’s dark eyes.

The words were on the tip of her tongue:

I love you. I want you, only you. Always you.

But she knew she couldn’t say them, no matter how badly she wanted to.

It wouldn’t be fair–

Not to Millicent, who was counting on her sweetheart to be faithful from an ocean away.

Not to Gene, whose schoolboy crush seemed to be the only thing keeping him from crumbling to pieces some days.

And most importantly, not to Joe who deserved far better than a damaged girl who could never give him the peace his turbulent soul so desperately longed for.

Her chest ached helplessly, her pulse seeming to radiate through her upper body as though her heart was trying to force its way to him.

“Joey, I-”

The thunderous roar of her name being called cut her off before she could get any further and her head swiveled immediately toward the sound.

It was her case officer who burst into the clearing with a radio in one hand and a bag in the other, its red stripes designating it as an OSS burn bag.

“Martinelli, grab your shit,” Nixon commanded, looking more alert than she'd seen him since Survival drills. “We’ve got to move now!”

With a last apologetic glance in Joe’s direction, Alix sprang to her feet and hurriedly began stuffing her stack of comic books into her canvas bag before bolting off after her handler, who was already several strides ahead of her and showing no signs of stopping.

“Hey! Hey Nix!” she called after him, trying to provoke some sort of response but instead of his usual dramatics over her neglecting to address him properly, he ordered her to hand over her bag.

Once she had, he began tearing through it like a madman, rifling through her comics and the letter from her aunt, pushing past her knives, garrote wire, and the vials of Prussic Acid neatly rolled into bandages.

“What the hell– ?” Alix demanded just as he swiped her false documents from the side pocket and shoved them into his burn bag.

“Have you lost your mind?!" she hissed, trying to grab his arm to stop him. "I fucking need those!”

"Not anymore you don't," Nixon reported, shrugging her off and lighting the Zippo. “You've been compromised.”

"What, how?!"

Alix felt her stomach lurch and she searched her handler’s face for the slightest trace of deception but found none.

"Madonna mia," she breathed as they both watched the burn bag begin to crackle, the terrifying reality sinking in.

"How bad was the leak?"

"Bad," Nixon uttered, shaking his head.

"Payce and De Luca were executed yesterday. Bouchard's been captured. Perrault's MIA. God only knows about the rest. I haven't heard."

They might've captured Jennie?!

Alix took a deep breath, trying in vain to calm her racing thoughts and keep a cool head.

"You'll have to lay low for awhile," Nixon stated, sounding almost apologetic as they watched her identity papers begin to disintegrate in the blaze.

"Donovan's got a place you can go, an agency safehouse. I'll bring you updates when I can."

"How many?” she asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

"How many of my covers have been compromised…?"

The captain swallowed hard before responding, his voice coming out as brittle as broken bone.

“All of them.”

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pevensiechase · 6 months

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Idk how to make this reach the correct audience, but I wanted to make a AMV for Band of Brothers, and I have no idea where to find decent quality clips.

So yeah…if anyone knows, let me know, please!

#band of brothers #joseph liebgott #dick winters #lewis nixon #joe toye #bill guarnere #shifty powers #ronald speirs #don malarky #buck compton #carwood lipton #BoB fandom #hbowar #hbo war

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softguarnere · 2 years

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just finished watching band of brothers and found your ficx - do u know any other writers to follow here?

Hi Anon! First off, welcome to the fandom :) always exciting to have more people around here. The BOB fandom is full of amazing writers, so you'll have all kinds of fics to read. I'm not sure if you're looking for fics about the characters, reader inserts, or headcanons, so here's a variety of authors for you to check out (this isn't everyone by any means, so I'm sorry if I forgot to tag anyone!):

@brassknucklespeirs @upontherisers @liebgotts-lovergirl @mads-weasley @mercurygray @sergeant-spoons @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @lenabob @auroralightsthesky @softliebgott @web-gott @problematicfavesareproblematic @softspeirs @eugeneroehoe @himbowelsh @multifandomlover01 @holdingforgeneralhugs

And if you ever want to chat, I'm always looking for more BOB friends! Hope you enjoy your time here 💕🕊️

#fic recs #tumblr friends #anonymous #ask #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x reader #bob fandom

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icantdecideofthename · 2 years

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i'm preprearing a short analysis of how women are treated in bob fandom (and the series itself)😳

stay tuned!!

#band of brothers #women in band of brothers #bob #history #bob fandom #band of brothers fandom #ww2

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roosterbruiser · 4 months

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#I can feel the hyper fixation slowing inching closer #every time I look back at it it's one step nearer #help me oprah #help me doctor phil #tgm #tg #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fandom #top gun fandom #bradley rooster bradshaw #Pete maverick Mitchell #jake hangman seresin #natasha phoenix trace #robert bob floyd #imagine being in love with someone named ROBERT.#this is so embarrassing for me

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ronsenthal · 5 months

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seeing everyone getting secret santa gifts while I'm here bored because I joined the fandom like a week after the subscriptions closed

#bob fandom #mw*

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byrdblood · 2 years

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"i can explain”, i promise the audience fervently after spending... *checks clock*... 12 hours in a row hyperfocusing on making this 16 panel comic of my persona meeting bob velseb

(that’s a lie. i can’t explain this. i haven’t slept in more than a day, i couldn’t explain how to draw a straight line.) this is my persona, keegan.

#bob velseb #spooky month #sr pelo #uhh hmm #bob velseb x reader #technically not but i guess thats the side of the fandom this might pander to #bob velseb x oc #i think that one's more accurate #i spent so much energy just trying to accurately imitate sr pelos art style #which is ridiculous because it's hypertoon so it should be easier #idk!#im already not happy with it but whatever whatever whatever

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siren-meets · 2 years

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If there’s one thing writing band of brothers fanfiction gave me, I can now spell the word Lieutenant correctly on the first try

#band of brothers #hbo war #bob #hbo war fandom #bob fandom #fanfiction #fanfic

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land-sh · 7 months

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Hiiiii :) I love you and your blog. 💕💕💕 You're very kind and just generally an amazing person. Also, I hope you don't mind me sending you these asks, I want to get to know you better because you seem so cool!! :)

Question #2

Favourite BoB episode and why?

Oh my God. You have no idea how much I appreciate these words; they make me so happy 🥹. Please, you're making me blush, but you're the amazing person. 🙈

I don't mind at all; ask me anything, let's talk about whatever you want. I also want to get to know you better.

My favorite episode is "The Breaking Point," solely because in this episode I began to focus on Speirs through Lip's eyes, and in that instant in which Ron is running through enemy fire back and forth, and Lip sees him with a huge smile (I was Lip), I could realize how much I liked Ron—sweet, crazy, and troubled dork.

The church scene sparked the Speirton flame, and that was it. It was in this episode that I realized I truly loved Band of Brothers and needed more of the fandom and more of my new OTP.

Thank you so much for these questions; I'll hit your inbox as well soon. 😉

#band of brothers #ron speirs #speirton #carwood lipton #answer game #thank you so much for the love #BoB fandom #crying and dying

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liebgotts-lovergirl · 1 year

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Fire On Fire: Chapter 25

(Ch. 24) ... (Ch. 1)

II Gallery II Symbol Guide II

Summary: "Friendship isn't a big thing– it's a million little things."

A/N: Here it is, y'all! 💖

Contemporary: November 20th, 1944. Resistance Safehouse, Signy-l’Abbaye, France.

She had been told that her confinement in the dilapidated cabin was for her own protection but Alix was almost certain that the real purpose was to drive her mad enough that even if she were to be captured, she’d have nothing useful to say.

And it was working, the agent thought as she flipped aimlessly through Wuthering Heights for the umpteenth time.

She was going to go out of her mind.

No one in the OSS knew where the leak had come from meaning that everyone was now under suspicion, so the only conceivable solution had been to tuck Alix away somewhere verifiably secure until the source was discovered.

Her sole contact with the outside world came in the form of visits from Captain Nixon, who was the very picture of maladaptive coping mechanisms as he collapsed into a beaten-in armchair by the fireplace with a drink in-hand.

"Any word on Jen– I mean, Agent Perrault?" Alix inquired hopefully but her handler shook his head.

"Not since the last time you asked. Sorry to say but I wouldn't get your hopes up."

He gave a sympathetic grimace before reminding her gently,

"MIA usually means captured or dead."

"'Usually'," Alix insisted doggedly.

"But not always. There's still a chance she's alive somewhere, waiting it out."

Her case officer's expression was strained but he said nothing, opting to take a swig of his drink instead of discouraging her any further.

There was a beat of comfortable silence between the pair and Alix picked at the shoddy couch-cushions beneath her leg with a chipped nail.

She desperately wanted to ask about Joe but she knew better.

She would play it cool.

"So what'd I miss? How is everyone?" she inquired casually but her handler let out a snort.

"You mean, how's 'Joey' ?"

One of the many downsides of being friendly with an intelligence officer, Alix thought ruefully: They Know Too Much.

"A loose cannon, that's how he is," Nixon answered himself before taking a gulp of what was undoubtedly whiskey in his flask.

"He's worried as Hell about you and he's taking it out on anybody within arm's reach. Not to mention, he keeps trying to weasel SITREPs out of me like your status and location aren't strictly Classified."

The captain shook his head with a grudging, mirthless smirk.

"Have to say, I admire his tenacity but I swear to Christ, I'm half-tempted to put a rush on your paperwork just so I can get some goddamn sleep and Dick can have his best interrogator back. Liebgott's no good to anybody like this and don't we all know it."

Joe was worried about her?

Alix didn't know what to say.

Why should he be?

Shouldn't he be relieved that he didn't have to tie up their inconvenient affair with a neat little bow?

But her conflicted musings were interrupted by the crinkling of cardboard.

Nonchalantly fishing a small, rectangular snack box out of his pocket, Nixon tossed it over to her with an exaggerated sigh of reluctance.

“From Muck again,” he elaborated as she caught it, as if she didn’t already know.

Skip had made it a habit of saving his fruit bars for her. He had told her case officer that it was because he was bored of apricot but Alix knew for a fact that was a lie.

It had started long before that.

╔══ •🖤🖤•🖤🖤•🖤🖤• ══╗

9 Months Ago: February 5th, 1944. Aldbourne, England.

“Hey Doc, is it normal to lose feeling in your legs?" Alix wheezed as she and the rest of the company made the final trudge up the hill to their makeshift campsite.

"Because I think mine have died."

“Lucky you,” Don groaned from behind her as he plopped down onto the dirt.

“Mine feel like they're on fire.”

"Mais ya, Pyro," Roe answered as he settled across from her on the ground, swiping some sweat off his forward with his sleeve.

"We jus' did an all-night hike an' on empty stomachs, no less. Perfectly normal to feel numb, I reckon."

"Enjoy it," Penkala advised as he took a seat on the empty patch of grass next to Eugene.

"After the Charley horse I got in Mile 9, I'd welcome some numbness right about now."

From a little ways away, Alix saw Skip Muck– their other best friend– shifting from foot to foot anxiously as he waited in line to speak to Captain Sobel.

As the only NCO in their friend group, it was Skip's job to report their times on each excursion.

Alix was reasonably confident in their speed– especially on nighttime hikes which were a lot less grueling than in the blistering heat of the day– but Muck always did his best to pad their times anyway to avoid anyone getting in trouble.

That was just the sort of person he was and Alix was eternally grateful.

The blond mimed dramatically shooting himself with his finger-gun as he waited for the unfortunately long-winded Mike Ranney to finish handing in his group's times and she let out a small giggle behind her hand.

"Wonder if he'll be done by noon," Don snickered, voicing her own thoughts and Alix shrugged.

"We can dream," she joked as she began to unbox her breakfast unit. "But I'm too famished to wait any longer."

"Agreed," Alex Penkala chimed in and the usual bartering began.

"Hey Penk, I'll trade you my Pork & Eggs for your cereal bar," Alix piped up hopefully but the brown-haired trooper sat forward and squinted, his green eyes skeptically taking in Alix's offering.

"That's what that's s'posed to be?" he asked, seeming genuinely horrified. "Are you sure?"

The Italian's weak nod was the only confirmation he needed to cement his decision.

"Nie, sorry," Penkala answered, partially in Polish and partially in English.

Alix sighed but at least he had the decency to look somewhat apologetic.

"Maybe another day?" he added as the spy turned to the friend seated on her left side.

"What about you, Mal? Pork and eggs for half your biscuits?" she offered but Don jokingly shielded his crackers in response.

"Fat chance," the redhead quipped. "These are getting drenched in coffee, soon as it's done."

"I'll remember this the next time you ask me for a Wrigley's," Alix teased before turning to the medic across the way, whose dark blue eyes were already fixed on her.

"How about you, Gene? Up for a trade?"

She held up the tin with a hopeful smile so the medic could view the breakfast ration within but he shook his head apologetically.

"Uh…'fraid I gotta pass on that," he responded, shooting her a sympathetic grimace as he eyed the tin.

"It don' look fit for human consumption."

Roe wasn't wrong.

The medic's prepackaged block of oatmeal had to be soaked in water from his canteen until it was an almost slop-like consistency the color of wet cement but it still looked better than the culinary monstrosity sitting before her in her own tin.

Using her fork as a poking stick, Alix lightly prodded the chalky egg yolk, hoping to find an angle at which it might at least look a little bit appetizing but found none.

The blocks of pork were so solid that she could hardly get her fork through them and she found herself thinking wistfully of home.

When she was home for breaks in Chestnut Hill, Penny would make the most incredible Irish breakfast known to man every morning – the fluffiest golden eggs, the most mouthwatering sausage accompanied by the scent of sizzling bacon and bread so fresh that you could hear the melodious crackle of the crust.

Just the thought of it was making her stomach growl but her musings were interrupted when Doc Roe reached out from across the way and plunked 4 of his 8 biscuits onto her tray with a shy smile.

"Ya can have 'em for free though, if ya want 'em, che– er, Pyro," he corrected quickly with an awkward cough before adding, "Hope they help."

Alix beamed back at him.

"Gene, you're a real peach, do you know that?"

The tips of the medic's ears turned bright pink and he replied with a "De Rien" so soft that she barely heard it.

Taking a bite of one of the biscuits, Alix let out a sudden yelp of pain as one of her molars connected with the rock-solid bread.

"Cazzo! I think it chipped my tooth!"

"That's why you soak 'em first, genius," a familiar voice bubbled from behind her and Alix turned to greet her other best friend.

"Well well, look what the cat finally dragged in," she remarked playfully as she scooted to make room for Skip in their little circle.

"Christ, Skipper, did you get lost?" Don piped up in-between mouthfuls of soggy cracker.

"Nope, can't afford to," the blond replied with his trademark glowing grin and unflagging positivity, even as he settled cross-legged into the dirt.

"Somebody's gotta keep you two outta the nuthouse."

Eagerly pulling his breakfast unit onto his lap, Skip began sorting through the goods and Alix peeked over his shoulder.

It seemed like that day, only Skip had anything actually worth eating: a Dromedary Bar.

As he slowly peeled back the cellophane, the blond took a second to admire the tropical fruit concoction in his hands and Alix's stomach rumbled enviously.

"Hungry?" he inquired as he began to worm the bar out of its packaging and Alix sighed wistfully.

"Starving."

Flicking out his pocketknife, the blond sawed the bar into two neat halves before scarfing his portion down and gallantly offering the second to his friend.

"You're a saint, Skipper," she proclaimed with a grateful grin as she eagerly wolfed down her half of the sweet treat.

"Nah," he chuckled modestly, wiping his juice-stained hands off on his ODs. "Just looking out for family."

“Bon Dieu,” Eugene had marveled from his seat across from them, shaking his head in quiet bemusement at the pair who had both already finished their sections of the bar.

“Remind me not to let y’all near my mama’s beignets when she send 'em!”

That had been the moment when Joe passed by.

It had started off innocuous enough, just another paratrooper admiring the scenery with his friends, those beautiful russet eyes roving the English landscape around them when they met hers and Alix’s heart thudded in her chest.

The electricity of the unspoken seemed to crackle in the air between them like a lightning storm, so much heat in one glance that it made her cheeks flush like a wild rose.

For a brief second, a conflicted expression flashed across his face and Alix remembered the thought in her mind clear as day:

Two months.

It had been two months.

Joe looked as if he wanted to say something but before he could get it out, one of his best friends– Popeye, she remembered– had distracted him, babbling on and on about their future return to civilization in the coming days.

Alix had never seen Joe appear less enthused. As he was being led away to where the rest of his friends were sitting, he took one last look over his shoulder at her, as if trying to commit her features to memory, as if gathering strength to stay away.

But why?

Two months, Alix remembered thinking sadly as she had watched the handsome paratrooper disappear. It had been two months since-

╚══ •🖤🖤•🖤🖤•🖤🖤• ══╝

The sound of snapping fingers dragged Alix from her memories like a vaudeville cane and when she looked up, she glimpsed a half-concerned, half-amused Lewis Nixon staring back at her from his spot in the armchair.

"Welcome back," he remarked and Alix let out a snort of derision, shrugging off his bemusement as she silently grappled with her thoughts.

Why did the memory of seeing Joe all those months ago make her brain burn? Why did that cryptic phrase echo in her mind: Two months. Two months since what?!

Shaking her head to clear it, the spy focused instead on lifting the ration box's lid and delicately unwrapping the cellophane in her lap.

“Jesus Christ, Nix, nice of you to save me some," she commented dryly, inspecting the remains of a crumbled chocolate bar with a cocked eyebrow.

“Consider it repayment for making me your goddamn mailman,” Nixon deadpanned and Alix rolled her eyes.

“Well if I was allowed outside, I wouldn’t have to have a mailman, now would I?”

“Not this again,” the intelligence officer groaned, holding up his hands in an exaggerated display of helplessness.

"I'm sorry I said anything!"

But it was too late; the floodgates had opened and Alix was already launching into her spiel.

“Nix, it’s been weeks,” she griped, slamming a free hand onto the moth-eaten sofa cushion beside her for emphasis.

“I can’t take much more of this shit! I’m tired of twiddling my fucking thumbs while there’s a war going on out there!”

“You’re preaching to the choir," her case officer said dryly, picking at a twig stuck to his fatigues.

"As soon as your new cover's been backstopped, you'll be the second to know, I swear. So give it a rest, okay?"

A beat of silence ensued and Alix wished fervently that she'd been allowed a radio so she could listen to music.

But alas, a radio signal was too dangerous.

There was no swing jazz on Earth that was worth being found by the Gestapo.

"Have you heard anything about my next assignment?" she probed curiously and the flicker of recognition in his eyes told her he had.

"That's 'Need To Know'," he replied evasively, casting a glance onto the worn-in floorboards. "And you don't, not yet."

Alix huffed impatiently and strained to reach the knife set by her shoulder on the side-table.

Flexing her fingers around the grip, she gave it a leisurely throw just behind Nixon's shoulder at the faded red target on the wall with a THWACK causing him to duck in alarm.

"God, Runt, could you not do that please?" her handler snapped as Alix sent another sailing over his shoulder, the blade whizzing through the air and sinking into the target with another THWACK!

"It's unsettling."

"Is it?" Alix cocked an eyebrow with a smirk, flinging her last knife at the target, the sharp metal sinking into the center with one final, satisfying THWACK!

"My apologies."

"You don't sound very sorry," Captain Nixon grumbled. "But you're going to be in a minute."

Digging into the canvas rucksack he'd placed on the floor earlier, the officer retrieved a hefty stack of paperwork and handed them over the coffee table to her.

"More notes, to be typed into complete reports by 8:00 tomorrow morning. And that's an order."

"Enjoy it while it lasts, Nix," Alix commented sardonically over her shoulder, as she rose from the sofa and crossed to the faded black typewriter resting on the kitchen table.

"They can't keep me cooped up here forever. Soon, you'll have to type up your own fucking notes when I'm in the field again."

"Well you're not there yet, hotshot," Nixon snorted derisively, the corners of his lips quirking up into a grudging smirk.

"So get to work.

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