#bill Hoosier smith x female reader

[she-wolf09231982]

Bill Hoosier Smith

“There, I said it!”

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

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

*Able Grable = Girl with low morals

*The Ichiki = Japanese Soldiers

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

~~~~~~~

August 1942

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The guys laughed including Bill.

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

Just then, you approached the group.

“Hey guys-“ you began.

The guys always lit up when you came around.

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

“Hiya, doll!” Lew added.

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

“Hey, Hoosier.” you say sweetly.

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

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

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

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

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

Your friendly smile softened into a cocky grin.

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

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

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

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

You feel your anger boiling over.

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Hoosier replied.

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

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

~~~~~~~

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

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

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

Runner rolled his eyes.

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

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

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

~~~~~~~

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

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

“Aye, sir.” Leckie acknowledged.

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

No one answered.

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

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

“We’ll go.” Sid and Gibson voiced.

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

“Fuck it, I’m in.” Runner added.

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

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

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

Hoosier looked at him skeptically.

“What?”

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

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

Leckie chuckled as he gathered his rations for the shift.

~~~~~~~

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

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

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

Leckie’s face appeared over the edge.

“Cozy?” He mocked.

You both scowl at him.

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

“Nah, just checking on everyone.”

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

You look at him with daggers behind your eyes.

“Excuse me!?” You shrill.

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

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

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

Hoosier didn’t bother looking over at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“INCOMING!!” You shout back to them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leckie and the rest of them encircled you and Bill.

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

“Get her bag!” Runner told Sid.

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

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

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

They did as they were told.

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

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

Tunnel vision sets in and you start to black out.

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

~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

“Good morning.” Hoosier bid you.

You slowly look over to him.

“Oh. Hoosier.” You reply softly.

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

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

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

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

“Right.” You whispered staring into space.

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

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

You looked at him perplexed, “Do what?”

“Why did you save me?” He clarified.

You looked down at your toes under the sheets.

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

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

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

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

“So, you’re welcome.” You added.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanted to make sure you woke up.”

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

“You slept here?” You asked amused.

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

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

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

“You heard me.” You retorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bill?”

“Hm.”

“Look at me.”

He reluctantly meets your gaze.

“Did you mean everything you said?”

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

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

He snaked a hand around your side,

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

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

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

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

His look of concern melted into admiration.

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

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

His smile widened, “Of course.”

“You can sleep up here with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~~~

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

#the pacific #hbo war #bill hoosier smith #hoosier smith #hoosier #jacob pitts #bill Hoosier smith x reader #bill Hoosier smith x female reader #medic #ww2 #one shot

[lostloveletters]

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

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

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

Word count: 3.2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Change?”

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

“I bought a dress.”

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

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

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

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

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

“In the stall!” you shouted back.

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

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

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

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

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

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

“It’s sure as hell working on me.”

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

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

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

He grinned. “Gives you character.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nudged Hoosier with your elbow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nice girls don’t kiss like that.”

“Oops.”

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

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

"Hoosier, I swear to god."

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

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

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

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

“Five bucks?”

“Higher.”

“Ten?”

“Higher.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He groaned. “Jesus, you’re mean.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” he asked, almost dazed.

You nodded. “Like a wet dream.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry!”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll make sure to warn ‘em.”

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

“Because they’re fucking idiots.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You kicked his boot. 

He snickered. 

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

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

#'im gonna be normal on this blog' so basically that was a lie #bill hoosier smith x reader #hoosier smith x reader #hoosier x reader #the pacific x reader #the pacific #hoosier smith #the pacific fanfic #hbo war

[softspeirs]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bill, 

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

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

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

I hope wherever you are, you’re safe. 

Thinking of you.

x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yours, 

Bill

. 

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

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

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

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

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

I’ll wait for you. 

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

.

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

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

Did he dream her? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I owe you a date.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bill feels himself pale. “I don’t--”

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

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

His dad nods. “Interesting.”

.

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

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

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

His palms start to itch. 

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

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

He knocks, takes a few steps back.

A screen door opens and shuts.

“Oh my god.”

He finally looks up.

.

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

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

“Bill?” 

“Hmm.” 

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

#softspeirs the pacific fanfiction #bill hoosier smith x oc #hoosier smith x oc #bill smith x oc #the pacific fanfiction #the pacific fanfic #me: writing for hoosier in 2024? more likely than you think!!!!

[ask-you-what-sir]

wanna dance? ~ bill 'hoosier' smith (the pacific)

my masterlist  |  my hbo war masterlist

pairing: bill 'hoosier' smith x female reader

short summary: him and her have been best friends for a couple years before the war, and they keep in touch even when he's away - only to realise with time that they're in love, but for varying reasons neither confesses.

words: 4.4K

a/n: this is written for the hbo war secret santa 2021 event !

dear @itsametaphorgwil , this is me, your secret santa! happy holidays to you, lovely one! have an awesome day and an even better christmas and new year's eve! i wish you all the best xx hope you'll like this lil present i made for you ♡

also huge thanks and love to @hbowardaily for organising this!! ✨

(y/n/n) means: your nickname

"Dear Bill,

Yesterday I met the old Mrs Thomas in the store and she asked about you – do you remember her? She was the one lady I accidentally bumped into at the Town Hall last Christmas when you chased me down the corridor, the one whose drink I spilled on both our dresses.

Lord, what an embarrassing moment. Anyway, she doesn't seem to remember – or if she does, she didn't bring it up, thankfully.

I wish we were still living in last year, or preferably the year before that. Then you would still be here, with all your stupid and slightly irritating jokes. Now every day feels the same – I wake up, I help Ma with the housework, then go to the store for my shift, leave in the late afternoon, check if there's a letter from you, another round of chores and finally going to sleep. All the while worrying about you.

And you know what's real frustrating? You're overseas, fighting for our country, risking your life, whilst I'm here, at home, doing the same things I've done before the war – except of course not meeting you every other day. I feel useless.

Enough of my complaining, tell me how you're doing. I hope it's not as bad as I imagine it to be. Please take care of yourself.

Yours sincerely,

your best friend (y/n)"

- - - - 3 years earlier - - - -

"Are you ready?" Dorothy calls out from the bedroom.

"One moment!" (y/n) answers equally loud from the bathroom, pulling the hairbrush through her hair one last time, glancing in the mirror to make sure everything's as perfect as it could be and moves back to her room with an excited bounce in her steps.

After promising her mother that she's going to be back by curfew, the two girls leave the house, practically rushing to the dance – this is the first time their parents let them go to an event like this and they feel like bursting with excitement.

Though after about half an hour, (y/n) has to admit that it's not like she hoped it would be. Dorothy has been asked to dance in the first twenty minutes, and has disappeared from her sight completely. Now she's standing by the wall all alone, watching all the couples dance. It's definitely not as enjoyable as she predicted.

But then a boy slumps down on a chair a few steps from her, a loud huff leaving his lips and it piques her interest so she turns her attention to him instead of the dancers. She's seen him around town before – which isn't surprising at all, Loogootee has never been a town big enough for the people living there to not know everyone else at least by sight –, and she knows that he lives two streets down from her, and goes to the same high school, only a year above her.

She can't help but wonder what got him looking so moody on a night that's supposed to be all fun.

About a minute later his head snaps towards her and swiftly she turns her gaze back to the dancefloor, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks for being caught staring – even if she wasn't staring like that.

"You wanna dance?" A voice speaks up next to her after a couple seconds, and glancing to the side she finds the same boy now standing right next to her.

With a confused frown forming on her forehead, (y/n) can't help but glance around to make sure he's talking to her. "Okay," she nods eventually when she finds no one else nearby.

"I'm Bill," he introduces himself on their way to the dancefloor.

"I know," she chimes back a bit taken aback still, but feeling it slowly dissolve into a happy atmosphere surrounding them. "I'm (y/n)."

"I know," Bill grins at her, and his response is enough to break the ice between the two as they burst into giggles.

As they start dancing, she can't help but remember the way he threw himself on that chair just a couple minutes prior, and she's back thinking about the possible reasons behind it within a moment.

"What are you thinking about?" His voice brings her out of her train of thoughts.

"Nothing," she's fast to reply, but seeing him raise an eyebrow in question she knows he won't take it as an answer. "Well, I was thinking about what got you so grumpy previously."

Bill grunts, his eyes darkening once more. "The girl I came with ditched me for someone else," he shrugs.

(y/n) takes a sharp breath, not expecting such an answer, and she feels herself grow sadder for him. "I'm–"

"I know, you're sorry. Don't be," he cuts in. "I just wanna forget about it, okay?"

All she can do is nod in response and so they continue dancing without a word for the next few minutes. When the song that's been playing ends, he asks if she wants to go out to get some fresh air and since before he appeared she was standing alone, she immediately agrees.

As if the new dosage of oxygen had a magical effect on him, he starts talking right away – and from then on, he's almost unstoppable, words flowing from his lips. He's determined to make her laugh, and he definitely succeeds most of the time – her facial muscles start hurting as the night goes on from all the wide smiling and laughing she's done.

When the time comes for her to go back home, he offers to walk her – reasoning that he wouldn't want to stay longer anyway and that he lives in the same direction – and they keep up the joyful conversation all the way to her front door. They say goodbye, and she disappears inside the house, thinking about how blue it makes her that everything will go back to normal now, and he won't be listening to his funny stories any time in the future.

Living in such a small town, they eventually keep on bumping into each other after that night, even out of school – especially when she starts helping out in her family's little store. He turns up often, with his friends or by his own when his mother sends him for something, and the two of them always chat a little, more and more as time progresses.

Then one time he (accidentally) stays until the end of her shift, and then they eventually spend the rest of the day together, wandering around town and talking about anything and everything – and just in general, having fun. From then on, it becomes a regular thing, every week (then later on even more than once a week) he shows up at the store just in time to catch her leaving and they go somewhere together.

They literally spend every free minute together – they are best friends despite the gender differences.

- - - - - - - -

"Dear (y/n),

I'm in Melbourne now, can you believe it? They sent us here to relax some and refit. The people here are awfully nice, and finally I had a comfortable enough place to sleep in and time to do so as well – it felt indescribably great.

Today the guys and I went sightseeing, well, as long as you can call sitting in different bars throughout the day sightseeing. (I know you're shaking your head right now, but don't even try to deny that you let out a small laugh too. I know you too well, I can even hear your laughter in my ears as I'm writing this. God, I miss hearing it in person.)

How is life going back home? Has your sister recovered from her illness yet?

Hopefully I can write more consistently to you from now on, at least as long as we stay here.

- - - - - - - -

Yours,

Bill"

It gets harder and harder every day for (y/n) – since she's realised that what she feels for Bill is something more than just friendship she's been only missing him more. There are times when she feels like stopping answering his letters, because maybe it would all be easier if she let go and tried to get over him, to forget about her stupid feelings towards him.

But every time, after a couple days pass, before she can realise what she's doing, she's sitting at her desk, a pen in her hand and a paper in front of her on the wooden surface. She can't stop writing back to him – for multiple reasons. First, she fears that if she stopped, it would only do harm to his morale, maybe he wouldn't be able to focus as good wondering why she's not replying. Second, she misses him. Too much to just not write. She wants to hear about him, hear from him. Third, worry is eating away at her. Her best friend is overseas, close to dying every other minute, and she can't do a thing about it. If she doesn't hear from him and makes sure he's alive, she won't be able to take it.

Which means that she has to find a different method to get over him.

On the other side of the world, Bill holds onto the letters he's gotten with the utmost care, he treasures them as if they're worth more than gold – because to him, they do. He misses her like hell, and for some reason he can't help but feel that she's the only thing keeping him grounded. The only thing that keeps him believing that the war hasn't destroyed everything worthwhile in this world for good, that there are still things to be alive for, to be happy for – like her and their friendship.

And even though they keep on experiencing such different things, and their lives aren't as similar as they have been back when they were nothing but kids from Loogootee, Indiana – and they each have their very different difficulties to face and fight every day, they both make sure to reply to the other's letters.

After literal years of hearing about almost nothing else from his friend but this mysterious girl named (y/n), one day Leckie proposes the possibility to Bill that even though he seems pretty oblivious about it, he might be in love with her.

"Basically since the first day we've met, every other sentence you say includes her in some way," Leckie shrugs after mentioning his opinion.

"Nah, that's stupid, she's my best friend and nothing else," Hoosier shakes his head, a chuckle leaving his lips as his eyes move around their surroundings.

"You sure?"

"Of course I am, I love her like a sister. I'm not in love with her."

"Okay, you know better," Leckie raises a hand in defense and turns back to writing a letter to Vera, but his eyes disclose that he's not at all convinced by his friend's reasoning.

For the next couple days, all Bill can think about is Leckie's words, even when they are getting shipped to another battle to fight, this time to Cape Gloucester. He can't put it into words why he can't seem to shake the thought, but it keeps on repeating inside his head whenever he has at least one second when he has nothing in particular to do.

And as any postal service they could get is delayed due to their fighting, he doesn't hear from (y/n) for a while and the feeling of missing her becomes almost too much to bear. Suddenly, it's crystal clear that he's been only living in oblivion and that's she's actually the love of his life. God, how ignorant he's been all this time.

When he tells Leckie that he was right, the man just shakes his head with a look that says 'finally' – he doesn't know how much longer he could've taken Hoosier being so stupid.

- - - - - - - -

"Dearest Bill,

I'm so glad to hear you're back in somewhat safety again, not in the direct line of fire!

Johnny Baker, you know, from Grant Street, got wounded - he's been transferred to some hospital I don't know where. Did you by any chance meet him over there? Maybe you were fighting together. But I guess there's only a slight chance for that, there must be so many different groups of soldiers fighting that don't meet at all - sorry, I'm not familiar with these Marine terms.

Anyway, when Mr Brown came to the store this morning and started saying how one of the local boys who enlisted got hit, I felt like fainting. I don't know how I would survive losing you. I lo I've never been more impatient in my life than that time to hear his answer when I asked him who it was. I also felt a little bad later, because I probably looked a bit too relieved for someone that just got to know that a boy from around here is in hospital, with a wound that might be very serious for all I know.

I hope the days aren't too dull for you, and you can get some well needed rest again. Tell my greetings to your friends for me, please. It's always nice to hear your stories about them.

- - - - - - - -

Yours,

(y/n)"

(y/n) almost confesses in one of her letters, totally by accident – luckily she realises it just in time and she can cross it out without it being too obvious what she wanted to say initially.

Ever since understanding her true feelings, she's thought about this various times, whether she should tell him about it or not. In the end, common sense always won.

She wouldn't want to divert his mind from more important things – like fighting a war. And also, somehow more importantly, because of fear of rejection. He's him and she's only her. Why would he want anything to do with her when it comes to dating? It's not like she doesn't know how he feels. He's told her – and others who asked about the two of them throughout the years – so many times how he loves her, but only as a sister. Just like if they were family members.

And she would never want to ruin their friendship – she values it more than to let it disappear only because of her stupid feelings.

What she doesn't know, that with the help of his friends, Hoosier is able to somewhat decode her letters – they spend a great portion of their free time in Pavuvu reading and analysing the words she's written. Of course, the most useful man when it comes to deciphering meanings behind words (fully written or crossed out half-words) and sentences is Leckie. Runner even jokes about how he should do this as a job when the war ends.

Despite her trying not to give anything away, they come to the conclusion that she's probably in love with him too – after what Hoosier literally jumps up and punches the air with his fist, feeling an outburst of joy none of them have felt in quite a long time now.

Still, he can't make himself writing down the words in any of his letters that would let her know how he feels. He knows he might die one of these days and he most definitely doesn't want to put her through any more heartbreak than necessary.

He doesn't want to be the one to wake false hope in her about how one day he might go back home and they could start a life together. What is more, he doesn't want her to wait around for him, especially since there's such a huge chance that he might as well never go back again. She should find someone to settle down and start a family with, why wait around for someone who's half dead already?

Bill even asks her about any possible guys around town she could date – reading his suggestions (y/n) can't help but roll her eyes, thinking about all the dinners she's spent with a couple men from around town who weren't overseas, at least not anymore because of different slighter wounds. They all went down the same way, everything was going totally fine but she still couldn't shake one thought – that none of these men are him.

- - - - - - - -

"Dear (y/n),

I hope you're not too worried by now, because I'm fine. Sure, these past weeks haven't been my best ones yet, but I'm doing alright now, and that's what matters. I'm in hospital now, trying to heal as fast as I can. As soon as they let me out, I'll be on my way home and nothing can stop me, truly. Definitely feels weird to be back in the country though!

Did I miss anything interesting since my last letter? Please, let me know of anything and everything. The longer your reply is, the better. I have to have something to do to prevent me from going fully crazy in this place. Don't take it as if I'm not grateful for being here – they take real good care of me, and I know I'm lucky to be here, and not buried in the ground. (Sorry, that got a little too heavy.)

Can't wait for us to meet again! It's what keeps me going on the nights I can't sleep.

- - - - - - - -

Yours sincerely,

Bill"

(y/n) calculates the change and places it gently into the hand of the customer standing on the other side of the counter, when the lady speaks up. "I didn't know Bill Smith was coming home."

She glances up, slightly frowning at the sudden comment, not really knowing what to answer – in the end she just hums in agreement.

"He just drove past me on the street when I was on my way here, at first I thought my eyes are mistaken," the woman continues eventually even without getting an answer.

"He drove past..." (y/n) repeats the words, freezing in place as they suddenly get a meaning inside her head as well.

She didn't know he was arriving home today – hell, she didn't even know he was released from the hospital in the first place.

Then, as if trying to make up for the time wasted when she stood frozen, she unties the straps of her apron with fumbling fingers, almost tearing it in the hurry to get it undone, then rushing around the counter she throws the entrance door open and with the following glance of a surprised customer she's already on her hurried way to the Smith's house.

Getting to their front door, (y/n) takes only one second to try and catch her breath before her knuckles rap a fast and loud rhythm on the wooden surface. Her fingers impatiently play with the material of her skirt as she waits for someone to open it – and as soon as it cracks open, she starts speaking, not even waiting for the other to acknowledge her.

"Mrs Smith! Lovely to see you! I've heard Bill has arrived home, is he here? Can I come in?"

Practically not even waiting for an answer she rushes past the older woman who stares after her with a warm and wide smile, watching as she practically flies into the dining room.

Loudly crying out his name as soon as her eyes land on the boy (y/n) immediately draws attention to herself. Bill's eyes widen and this time it's him to freeze – he feels like he's not able to move a single muscle in his body from the surprise of seeing her so unexpectedly.

With a few quick steps she's right in front of him, leaping straight into his arms, not caring at all about his family all around them watching or not behaving well-mannered. When her body comes in contact with his, Bill comes back to life, his arms move to tightly grip her waist to keep her right there, pulling her impossibly close to him.

Oh, how many times he's dreamed about this in the past years. And now finally he can do it.

"It's so amazing to see you," she breathes out, face still buried in his neck. "I missed you so bad."

"I missed you a lot too, (y/n/n)," he whispers back, his palms gently moving up and down her back in a caressing manner. His eyes are closed as he tries to live the moment to the fullest and store every little detail of it as perfectly as he can.

When the initial great happiness decreases a little – but only a little –, (y/n) loosens her arms around his neck as a signal and he gently puts her back down to stand on her own two feet. She glances up at his face, but only for a moment because she knows that if she wasn't careful enough, she would get lost in his almost grey but still blue orbs and wouldn't be able to tear her gaze away from them.

Later on in the afternoon, the two of them are sitting in the backyard just talking and catching up – and it feels as if no years has passed since their separation, as if it was only yesterday when they last saw each other.

"I just don't think it was fair of him to say that, you know? And even though mother wants me to go and apologise to him, I don't want to," the girl rambles on, her right hand mindlessly moving across the lawn as she's enjoying the soft feeling of the blades of grass stroking her skin. "What do you think I should do?"

When she doesn't get an answer for a couple long seconds, (y/n) looks up to find Bill already watching her – his eyes somewhat dazed, a heartwarming and butterfly-awaking smile playing on his lips. And it's more than clear that he's not paying any attention to her.

"Bill," she tilts her head, but it seems that it's not enough to grasp his interest so she takes to more drastic measures and calls out his name louder, her fingers snapping in front of his eyes. "William!"

"What?" He asks back, his whole body wincing in surprise as he wakes from his daydreaming.

"Are you even listening to a word I'm saying?" (y/n) shakes her head with a playfully disbelieving look in her eyes.

"Ah, I'm sorry," Bill diverts his gaze in slight embarrassment, and she could swear she saw a blush forming on his cheeks. "Could you repeat it?"

"It's not important," she shrugs, smiling at his profile, taking in the lines that write his face, enjoying that she can watch him without him catching her in the middle of it.

"No, wait, I wanna hear it. Anything you say is important to me. I'm sorry, I got lost in my thoughts. Please, tell me."

"Nope. Should've listened the first time."

Hoosier rolls his eyes, looking back at her. Their eyes connect and she can see something naughty sparkle up in his orbs just then but there's nothing she can do when the next moment she's being tackled down to the ground by him, his hands roaming around her sides, tickling her wherever he reaches.

"No, stop! Stop, Bill, please!" (y/n) exclaims, trying hard to wiggle away from him, but while once ago she might have been able to push him away, him being a marine for years has made him too strong for her to stand any chance now.

A minute or so later he stops his movements, leaning over her and catching his breath. His eyes sparkle bright as he stares into her (y/e/c) ones, and suddenly he knows he has to confess. It's not like his reasons why not to are valid anymore – he's not fighting a war, facing death about every day. All his mental contradictions are out the window now, so why would he keep quiet about it?

"I love you," he speaks up gently a second later, having convinced himself.

For a moment her rapidly beating heart feels like stopping from hearing these three words come from his mouth, but then she reminds herself that he probably still means it only as proof of his brotherly love.

"I love you too," her lips curve into a smile, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes and he's fast to notice.

"No."

(y/n) frowns, confused as to why he just said that.

"I love you. Like love love," Bill tries again, watching her face intently to catch the moment she understands what he means.

The thoughts spin in her mind, trying hard to make the words make sense. "You do?" The question leaves her lips in the end – and Bill's not satisfied at all with the doubt still filling her voice. It's fair to say he didn't quite expect this moment to go like this.

"Yeah," he nods, a little too vigorous and enthusiastic to his own liking, but at this point he just wants to make her believe him.

(y/n) bursts out giggling and his eyes widen in surprise. Is the idea of him loving her so ridiculous that she has to laugh about it?

"I-I'm so-sorry," she stutters in-between giggles as she tries to catch her breath, still looking up at him from her lying position. "I just didn't expect to hear this, at all."

"Oh," Bill replies, the confusion that has previously been written on her face now apparent on his own.

"I love you too, don't look so scared," (y/n) grins widely, then as she sees him open his lips, she foregoes and answers the question she knows he wants to ask. "Yes, love love."

The grin forming on his lips matches hers in width and within a second he's leaning down, only stopping a finger-breadth away from her face.

"I've been waiting for so long to do this," he mumbles.

"I bet I've been waiting even longer for you to do this," she whispers back.

Then his lips finally touch hers, gentle and feather-like until he feels her kiss him back with more passion – after that, he deepens the kiss himself. He feels that there's no need to restrain himself when for the past year all he's wanted to do was this, all he needed was her permission.

And the taste and softness of her lips along with the way it feels as they move along his are even better than in his dreams.

my masterlist  |  my hbo war masterlist

.::the end::.

and here's a little extra gift because i felt like making a moodboard:

taglist: @50svibes @neverendingstories00 @mads-weasley @now-im-a-belieber

[ do you wanna be added to my taglist? ]

#hbowarsanta21 #hbo war secret santa #bill hoosier smith #hoosier smith x reader #hoosier smith imagine #hoosier smith fanfic #hoosier smith x you #jacob pitts #the pacific #the pacific imagine #the pacific fanfic #the pacific x reader #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #hbo war x reader #hbo war imagine #h company #h company imagine #h company fanfic #the pacific h company #x reader #reader insert #x y/n #fanfic #imagine #fanfiction #masterlist

[nonstoplover]

it doesn't matter ~ bill 'hoosier' smith (the pacific)

my masterlist  |  my hbo war masterlist

pairing: bill 'hoosier' smith x female reader

request: "heyy, i just stumbled upon your blog, and it honestly made me so happyyy!!! i was wondering if you could do me either a lieb or a hoosier smith imagine (i love them both so much, so either one is okay!) and could you maybe do either a pregnancy one or maybe a proposal? preferably pregnancy, but i don't mind too much either way! last thing, just wanted to let you know that you are amazingly talented, and i wish i could write the way you do! ❤️" ~ @whoahersheybars

summary: bill bumps into a girl on the streets of melbourne, sending her and all her belongings flying to the ground. neither would think in that very moment that in only a couple years, they'll be over several unexpected turns, with the involvement of hundreds if not thousands of letters written and even a war bride ship.

words: 3.6K

a/n: thank you for the request, lovely! i hope you'll like this one! i've never written with anyone from the pacific before so it's a first and i'm a tiny bit anxious.

this includes a few time jumps, i didn't want to end up writing a fic that's too long for my liking, i hope nobody minds.

sometimes i wish i could write accents in my fics, but sadly english not being my first language puts me into enough stress without having to worry about accents too :((

taglist: @mads-weasley @neverendingstories00

"Oh, damn!" (y/n) grunts as she registers that everything from her paper bag has scattered on the ground. She swiftly pushes herself up onto her knees from her sitting position and scrambles closer to grab the newly bought food - at least what could still be saved.

Out of nowhere a hand holding an apple appears in front of her eyes. "I'm utterly sorry, miss." She looks up to see a young man towering over her with an overly apologetic look in his eyes. Taking in his American uniform and thinking back to what he said, with flashbacks of the previous minutes in front of her inner eyes - it suddenly becomes obvious it was this man in particular she bumped into in the corner, the one that sent her flying to the ground, throwing the paper bag in the air.

"Can I pay you back in any way?" He continues as she reaches up to grab the fruit from his hand and lets it fall back into the bag - that's much emptier now, with most of the contents previously landing in the dirt.

(y/n) blinks once or twice, still trying hard to let her mind catch up to what just happened. Maybe she hit her head. Just in time with her thought, the marine leans further down to get a better look in her eyes. "Did you hit your head, miss?"

Thinking back to what happened, she frowns and shakes her head. She has no memory of that, she just simply sat down on the asphalt. Well, maybe a bit harsher than just sit down, because it was more of a fast and ungracious fall.

The man reaches out once more, this time with his palm open and facing up, offering a hand for her to get up. She takes it, but by the time her mind even processed the thought of standing up, he pulled her up with such strength that she loses her balance immediately and comes flying into his chest. He grabs her elbow with his other hand and holds her tight and steady until he makes totally sure that she's secure on her own two legs.

With not at all lady-like movements she swiftly dusts off her clothes, taking a second glance to see she's got the most, then her head rises again until their eyes connect. What she finds in his almost grey but still blue orbs surprises her. It's an incredible amount of honest worry with which he's staring at her.

"I'm okay, thank you," she smiles up at him and a couple seconds of seemingly being completely frozen later he swings into action and as if he's touched fire, he lets go of both her elbow and hand, then takes a small step back to create a bit more space - just as it's ethical. "And you don't have to pay me back, I ran into you just as much as you ran into me."

"At least let me buy you a coffee, then," he insists, the worry in his eyes switching to some form of regret. "Please."

"Fine."

A small smile makes its way onto his face, then as if suddenly realising something, he straightens his posture and holds out his hand, once more. "I'm Bill, by the way. Bill Smith."

"(y/n) (y/l/n)," she takes his hand and gives it a firm shake - one that obviously surprises him from the slight raise of one of his eyebrows. It's nothing she's not already used to, though. Ever since she was a kid, she kept on surprising people - mainly men - with her strength. It's pretty unusual coming from a young girl. Advantage of growing up on a farm with only your father and older brother around.

"Uhm, can you suggest a café though?" Bill scratches the back of his neck, cheeks turning lightly pink. "I'm not at all familiar with Melbourne yet."

The girl giggles and places the paper bag under her arm whilst pretending to think. "I don't really like coffee that much, actually," she ponders out loud, then just as his face slightly falls and his lips open to protest in a bit of disappointment, she continues with a cheeky grin. "How about something with alcohol in it instead?"

For a second he thought he didn't hear it right. She couldn't have said that, right? But looking in her playfully shining eyes and seeing the grin playing on her lips, he knows that she's said just that.

"I happen to know a pretty good bar not far from here," (y/n) adds.

"Okay," Bill gives his answer - probably a bit faster than he's supposed to, faster than it's morally conventional, but before he can feel embarrassed again, an angelic laugh leaves her lips and suddenly all he feels is that it was more than worth it.

The walk to the bar starts in silence, just the two of them moving without a single word - both trying to understand the weird feeling tingling in their bodies. Then (y/n) breaks the quiet, deciding that if she's really going to have a drink or two now with a total stranger, then at least know a little bit about each other before getting to it.

"I'm not that familiar with Melbourne, either, actually."

"Yeah?" The marine glances at her for a short moment before his eyes return to the ground below them.

"Yeah. All my life I've been living in the countryside, on a farm. I only left a few months prior. Because my pa didn't want a young woman like me to live there on my own."

Why is she about to tell this man all about her life, her past? What is it about him that makes her feel so comfortable as if she knew him for weeks, months, or hell, even years, and not fifteen minutes in total? She can't quite define, but it's definitely there.

"On your own?"

"Yeah, both he and my brother have enlisted," she shrugs. "My mom's long gone, didn't even know her really."

What? Stop!, she mentally slaps herself. Why is she being so depressing now?

"Enough about me. Tell me about yourself, Bill Smith."

He grins at her use of his full name, then reaches up with one hand to scratch at the back of his neck, looking at his feet in the process.

"I'm from Loogootee, Indiana," he speaks up, then pauses. Suddenly he doesn't know what to say.

(y/n) glances at him from the side, raising an eyebrow as if to question why he stopped so soon. Bill takes a breath, quickly thinking about things he could talk about that might sound interesting and appealing to the Aussie girl.

In the end his attempts seem successful as she giggles every once in a while listening to his stories, sometimes adding one of her own that resembles his. The walk to the bar goes by fast and in absolute conviviality.

About an hour later they're sitting in a booth, the paper bag gently pressing against her leg as she's trying to prevent it being stolen or left there without her paying full attention to it. Three empty glasses and one about half full sits between them on top of the table.

They're just laughing away at something Bill said when three figures enter their field of vision, casting a kind of shadow on the table and the two of them. With a slow movement of their heads they both look at the newly arrived - (y/n) doesn't get any more clever about who they might be at first glance, but Bill's eyes lighten up as they take in the three men.

By their American marine uniform - similar if not the same as Bill's - she figures they're probably his comrades in the Marine Corps, the ones he already told many stories about.

"Hoosier, is that really you with this lovely lady right here or do my eyes mislead me?" One of them leans closer with a loud chuckle erupting from his throat.

Hoosier. What is a hoosier?, she wonders in her head.

Another one slaps Bill in the shoulder in a playful way, sending a wink his way, then all three of them start laughing - so loud that it causes many people glancing in their direction from all across the large room, no matter the otherwise already almost deafening noise.

"(y/n), excuse my friends for acting like a group of lunatics," Bill looks back towards her, his cheeks the colour of a light red rose - is it because of the drinks he's had or because of his friends?

"Oh yes, I'm sorry about that, miss," the one standing the closest to her pretends to slap himself in the forehead with a look of regret on his face before placing his palm on top of his chest, facial expression turning serious. "I'm Robert Leckie. And let me introduce you these two gentlemen I arrived with. Wilbur Conley and Lewis Juergens."

"(y/n) (y/l/n)," she nods with a small smile.

"You know my first name, Leckie?" One of the other two lets out a chuckle - the one who nodded and waved a little after the name Lewis was announced. "Now that's a surprise."

"Of course I do," the questioned one, Leckie rolls his eyes in response.

"Why, what are you called amongst the marines then?" (y/n) chimes in with true curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

"I'm Chuckler, he's Runner, and Bill over there is Hoosier."

"And he's Peaches," Conley - or should she say Runner? - adds swiftly, earning a slap to the back of his head from Leckie.

(y/n) watches them interact with a smile on her face, wondering about what the origin of these nicknames could be, then turns to Bill with the smile turning into a playful grin. "Hoosier?"

"Yeah," he grins right back.

"Okay we're leaving you two lovebirds alone now, just wanted to make sure it's truly you," Leckie straightens up. "I'll see you around, Bill, and it was lovely to meet you, (y/n)," he looks at them one by one.

"Vice versa," the girl smiles up at him, then the three marines bid farewell and walk away. "They seem nice," she says to Bill who gives her an appreciative smile back.

- - - - - - about four months later - - - - - - - -

Her fingernails drum a fast rhythm on the table of the small diner impatiently, her eyes never leaving the entrance. Where is he and why is he late? With a slightly shaky hand she raises the glass in front of her and she takes a large sip, swirling the liquid around with her tongue to enjoy the taste better.

After the drink is safely put back down on the table, she cards her fingers through her hair then leans her face in her palms, rubbing the skin under her finger pads in nervosity. She didn't even hear the door open or feet aproaching, but the next moment a hurried, quiet voice speaks up next to her. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"It's okay," she smiles at Bill, but it doesn't reach her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Hoosier slips onto the chair opposing her, a worried glint appearing in his eyes.

He knows her too well, he does from about a month after their first meeting.

"We have to talk."

He frowns, leaning closer to her with his elbows resting on the wooden surface between them, then just looks at her, waiting for her to continue.

"I think I'm pregnant," (y/n) announces. What would be the point in beating around the bush? It's easier just to say it as it is.

Bill visibly gulps, his eyes widening a bit. About a minute passes with the two of them just staring in each other's eyes before he speaks up - his voice somewhat hoarse. "You think?"

"Yeah," she looks away, fingers fidgeting. "I'm not entirely sure, but there's a chance I'm right."

"Uhm," the young marine starts speaking but immediately his voice fades and he just clears his throat to avoid being completely silent. What should he say? He has no idea. He doesn't even know what he feels at the moment.

"I understand if this is too much for you," (y/n) swiftly interrupts his thinking. "I mean, we're young and only know each other for a couple months and obviously we're not married. You're American and I'm Australian. We live on the two opposite sides of the world. I understand if you're not ready for a kid yet or don't want to have one in these circumstances."

"What are you saying?" Bill tilts his head in question, eyebrows moving into a frown.

She takes a deep breath, averting her eyes from his and glancing at her nervously moving fingers instead before answering his question. "That even if I'm actually with child, you can forget about the whole situation. I'm keeping it, but you don't have to."

A sharp hiss leaves his lips by her suggestion. "No," it's all he says, making her raise her glance back up to him in surprise.

"No?" (y/n) breathes out a couple seconds later.

"No," he repeats, shaking his head fiercely. "I'm not leaving you alone when you're pregnant with my kid."

"But we didn't want it."

"I know. It doesn't matter."

His lips slowly curve into a smile and she lets out a small gasp. Tears blur her vision as she starts laughing in relief.

"Are you sure?" She manages to get the words out through her sounds of happiness.

"Yes, (y/n), I am," Hoosier reaches out for her hand still laying on the table and takes it into his own, giving it a gentle squeeze as he joins her laughter. "We made a new form of life, can you believe it?"

"Don't forget about how I might not be pregnant."

"Okay, okay. Let's wait with this until we can be entirely sure, yeah?"

(y/n) nods in agreement and so he seamlessly changes the subject.

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

"You know, we should get married," Bill breaks the comfortable silence as they're having an impromptu picnic in the park, (y/n) laying down with her head in his lap, his hand gently resting on the tiny bump of her stomach. "Before I leave again, I mean."

A giggle leaves her throat as she looks up at him in blissful disbelief.

"It's a bit fast, I know, but I think we kinda already crossed that line when getting pregnant," he shrugs.

"Wouldn't it be weird to do it without our families even knowing about us planning it?"

"It might be."

A couple minutes pass in quiet as they're both thinking about his proposition, and it's him to break it again, his voice fainter than before. "I'm not stupid and I'm not living in denial. I know there's a huge chance that I'm not coming out of this alive. And I want to support you and my child even if I'm not around. Marriage is my only chance to do it."

(y/n)'s speechless - she hasn't expected such a heart-clenching turn in the mood. But to her own sadness, she has to agree with what he said - all the while she can't help but feel a little flutter in her heart seeing him wanting to help her and the yet unborn baby out so bad.

"So what do you say?" Hoosier asks after waiting another minute or two.

"That you could've thought of a more romantic proposal," she giggles - if nothing more, this can be a lightening to the seriousness of the moment.

Bill shakes his head and rolls his eyes but lets out a chuckle himself.

"We could get married. If that's what you really want," (y/n) adds on a more severe note, resting a hand on top of his.

"Are you free tomorrow?" Now it's his turn to joke - but the honesty shining in his eyes lets her know that he half means it.

A wide, happy smile makes its way onto her face and her head moves in a simple nod.

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

"Dear Bill,

I'm delighted to announce that I've given birth to a healthy, beautiful baby daughter. I'm sorry you couldn't have been here. I'm sure you would've loved to be the first one to take her in your hands - I'd have loved that too.

I hope this letter of mine still finds you unscathed, wherever you might be. Oh, how I wish this war would end soon.

I'm still debating what her name should be - I know, I'm so terribly indecisive. You agreeing to give her my mother's name in her memory seems to not have been enough to convince me fully. The nurses gave me a day to decide, so I hope I'll dream the perfect choice in my sleep.

Must be crazy to think you're a father now. It is quite unbelievable for me still, being a mom. The word makes it sound frightful, with all the responsibility to look after another human being.

I can't wait to hear from and one day even see you again. Take care of yourself, Bill.

With love,

your (y/n) Smith"

This is the letter that keeps him going in Cape Gloucester. He tries to keep it as dry as possible, no matter how much it seems like the raining is never going to stop again.

This is the letter that gets joined by a couple others including the one in which (y/n) lets him know of the baby's final name - Margaret Helen Smith, after the two grandmothers and with his last name which makes him an ounce happier even with the circumstances he gets the news in -, or the one in which she's sent him a photo of their child and herself - his most treasured belonging for the time being.

These are the letters that leave him wordlessly praying when they announce the lottery to win a ticket home in Pavuvu. He doesn't win, but at least whilst staying on the humid, gruesome island they get and can send letters more often.

Then the absence of letters from him is what wakes the almost unbearable worry in her. First it doesn't matter, it has happened that letters arrived more rarely. But then it becomes two months, three months, more and there's still no word from him.

The worst thought nestles in her mind, and no matter how hard she tries, she can't close it out. Taking care of her baby keeps her busy throughout most of the days and even parts of the nights, but she still has lonely moments when the silence and emptiness of the small apartment makes it too difficult to just get past the negativity.

Hope slowly starts to fade - until a few days from Margaret's first birthday in December she gets a letter. From him. Turns out he wasn't killed in action. He got hit when a mortar exploded close to him and he was then transferred back to the US. It's a bit hard to think about how far they are from each other, but the thought that he's still alive makes everything bearable - she feels like she could wait for any time now, as long as his condition truly stays as it is.

The rest of the war passes by with nothing but letters exchanged - with her telling him all about the things baby Maggie does and him telling her about his healing, his family, and then eventually when he leaves the hospital how he's found the perfect house for them and how he started working.

Late 1945, close to their child's second birthday, Bill tells her about a war bride ship that he heard of from another wounded soldier he travelled back to America and still keeps in touch with. He proposes her leaving with the first one - he even offers help with organising the trip. Only if you want to, of course, he writes.

In March, 1946 she says goodbye to everything she's ever known, packs her life and with her kid in her arms boards the ship that will eventually take her to her husband.

It takes six weeks for the ship to arrive to the United States, and being so impatient it feels like forever for her. Hoosier feels a very similar way, knowing that he's missing out on his baby's first years - with every day that passes she's growing up more and more without her father around.

As all the women aboard start descending from the ship and stand on American ground, chaos soon takes over the port - too many people waiting to pick up their already or just soon to be wives and too many people arriving with the ship.

Anxiety fills her whole existence as her eyes travel along the sea of people, desperately searching for Bill as Margaret cries in her arm, frightened by the loud noise and large crowd. What feels like the middle of the great masses of people she stops, slowly turning around, examining all the faces getting in her gaze's way.

Her breathing quickens and all of a sudden she feels stupid for travelling all across the world for what? A man she's not seen for two and a half years now?

Just as this thought enters her mind, the crowd slightly parts and as if sent from the angels above, a familiar figure enters her vision. Leaving her suitcase right there on the ground without a care in the world she sets off in as fast of a run she can manage with a two-year-old sitting on her arm and so many people in the way, and she flies into his embrace.

"Bill," his name leaves her lips in a relieved whisper, almost inaudible in the noise.

Despite never leaving Australia in her entire life before that one time six weeks ago, now, arriving to unfamiliar shores, into the arms of the man she grew to love in such a short time, the man whose child she's given birth to two years ago, she feels like coming home.

.::the end::.

#bill hoosier smith #hoosier smith x reader #hoosier smith imagine #hoosier smith fanfic #hoosier smith x you #jacob pitts #the pacific #the pacific imagine #the pacific fanfic #the pacific x reader #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #hbo war x reader #hbo war imagine #h company #h company imagine #h company fanfic #the pacific h company #x reader #reader insert #x y/n #fanfic #imagine #fanfiction #masterlist #requested

[freezinginacozyfoxhole]

Multifaceted

Female!Sniper reader X Bill ‘Hoosier’ Smith

Synopsis: First time drinking can have serious consequences. You experience it on your skin when Hoosier has to put up with your shift of attitude.

Disclaimers: This story is based strictly on the actor portrayals of the characters. I respect the real people and their heroic deeds. Also, English is not my native language and my English level is somewhere around B2 so I’m sorry in advance for my poor language choice. Enjoy!

 Melbourne during wartime was lovely, you thought as you downed another drink in the wild hollers of the boys. In fact, it was even better than home. You could have a proper hot bath in the house of a stranger who then pampered you like their own child. You could enter a shop and be assaulted with questions from young boys and discrete glances from their mothers. You could talk to your father after two months and found out that Lew's sister was having a baby boy and that she would have hoped to have you by her side at the christening. The number of things that were happening around you and to you was overwhelming.

You were living the time of your life; you told yourself, a broad smile spreading across your face. You had a bed with a proper mattress, the opportunity to eat out every evening, and to jog around the parks in the morning. It was not even at home that you felt so peaceful, so self-accomplished.

Although, there was still a war raging on and the fact that you were to be deployed back in the Pacific in two days was no sweet reminder. A bitter thought. But as you were waiting for a refill, you let your eyes wander around the crowded bar. Barely wincing at the heavy cigarette smoke which you've eventually grown accustomed to, you briefly saw Chuckler making out with some Australian girl, Runner trying to hit on one and then Sidney, sweet and reserved Sidney, in deep conversation with his Australian companion you knew as Gwen. She was exquisite, you stared at her, without realizing that you, in fact, were comparing yourself to her. A perfect little doll face with an elegant posture and a shiny blonde hair with curls that embraced her flower-patterned dress. Glancing down at your army-issued trousers, you couldn't help but shrug and remember how a dress used to feel from the time you used to wear them back home. As another pint of beer was passed by the barman, he flashed a smile at you and leaned closer:

'Ain't enjoying the night out, miss?'

You gave him a reluctant look, knowing that he was hitting on you. Everyone loved the uniform.

'I'm fine, thank you,' you smiled politely at him, declining the drink. 'Although some bourbon would be nice -do you happen to have some?'

He leaned even closer so that there were only a few inches between your face and his. Winking at you, he let out a low whistle:

'Missin' the American flavor, missie? 'Cause, you know, the Australian taste is also unforgettable -if you know what I mean!'

  Feeling a warm blush creeping in your cheeks, you stood up and did what seemed perfectly rational at that moment: you slapped him right across his freshly shaven cheek. With a shocked but amused expression, he looked up at you with a mischievous sneer that scared you a little. No one but the two of you seemed to notice the sudden interaction, which made you aware of how drunk everyone in the room was. Including yourself.

'Guess the missie likes it the hard way!' he kept on with his shit-eating grin as he began to seize you with a hungry glance that made you feel literally naked. 'How about I show you my-'

 With your breath fastening at each of his words, you got up on your legs and hurtled out of the room. Your father may have tried to prepare you for this kind of uncomfortable situations. Still, he failed to mention the cockiness or the sheer lust etched across their face -or your drunk mind was unable to remember everything with accuracy.

 You stumbled to the door, tears forming in the corner of your eyes. That's how always things went -everything was great for a while, something unexpected happened, and everything fell apart. And you were right in the middle of it, a fool and innocent girl in a world of men. You fought to be a part of it, had to prove yourself to remain in it, and now all you wanted was to get the heck out of everything and cuddle with your blanket in your bed.

'Hey, Y/N! Was actually looking for ya!'

 A joyous shout came from the other side of the street and you hastily turned your head in the sound's direction, trying to wipe the anxiety off your face. Hoosier stopped in his traces to wave at you, and you tried to wave back, but you unceremoniously broke down in tears. A rush of relief surged through your veins, and the next thing you knew was that you were clinging to Bill's body for dear life, with tears streaming down across your face.

'Slow down, slow down. What happened?' he asked with a worried voice, his hands slowly brushing the hair out of your face. 'Did someone do something to you?' his tone suddenly raised as you looked up to him.

'I want to get out of here' you blurted the words out, unaware of how drunk you were until you tried to take another step and ended up in Bill's arms. 'Some guy tried hitting on me, I asked him for some bourbon, and then he began saying something about the Australian flavor and -OH MY GOD, just get me out of here, please!' you pleaded as the words just kept coming out of your mouth.

'And just how much did you drink before asking for the bourbon?' he felt compelled to ask as he had also drunk a few shots beforehand.

'Just enough to end up like this,' you smiled bitterly contemplating your state. 'I'm miserable, Bill, that's what I am. And you know what?' you asked him as you felt a sudden pang of hope. 'I'm so miserable that I am going to embark on the ship right now and sleep until they force me to land on another God-forgotten island! Yes, that's it, no one is going to stop me from-'

'Yes, you drank enough.' he stated for himself as he was looking at you blabbering and making plans with that drunk determination on your face. 'Wait, is this your first time getting drunk?' he asked you on a slightly high-pitched tone that betrayed his sloppiness. 'You look rather cute, actually...'

'You think so?' You suddenly asked with a small smile on your face. 'You know Sid's girl, Gwen? I think she's gorgeous with her gleaming long hair and her flawless silhouette. You should go and find your Gwen too, Hoos!' you suddenly exclaimed, giving him a serious pat on the shoulder.

A corner of his mouth lifted while watching your forehead creasing from all the connections you wanted to make with your drunk mind. You were so innocent and unaware of the fact that he'd been looking for you so he could confess his feelings before being deployed once again. But considering the pretty shaken up state he'd found you into, he couldn't make any move on you -he cared too much for you to see you being overwhelmed by too many feelings.

'Go ahead, lover boy! I'll be waiting for you right here!' you promptly stated as you sat down on the ledge of the alley.

    You looked at him with your tired and naïve eyes, your reserved smile revealing your actual condition: a first-time drunk girl who was just sick of being among strangers and wanted to go home. But for the fact that home was an ocean away. His brows furrowed at the distressing sight, and he lowered down on his knees, bringing his face closer to yours.

'How about I take you somewhere quiet and cozy?' he asked you gently, taking your cold hands in this. 'I think I know just the place.'

Blinking slightly confused at his way too gentle attitude, you shot him a suspicious look. Ever since you came here, he either spent his time sleeping or hanging around with you- you got closer during Guadalcanal, but you'd expected him to act like all the other guys did and find himself a nice Australian gal to waste his time with. Yet there he was, enduring your drunk self who kept saying things that made no sense in your head -what was holding him back?

'Come on. Up on your feet!' He slid a hand around your waist, trying to get you back up despite your quiet protests.

Eventually, you stood up and tried again to take a few steps by yourself until it proved a little too difficult, and you crashed ungraciously against a wall and let out a muffled pain sound as Bill hurried to catch you.

'Well, fuck.' You plainly stated, unaware that you just said a terrible word. 'I'm giving up!' You eventually shouted as you rested your head against Bill's body.

   He had wrongly assessed your state until that point. Even then he did not understand what kind of drunk you were -because your actions seemed to be a mix-up between the sad drunk and the sleepy drunk, but then again you had moments when you were highly realistic-

 A faint snore interrupted his train of thoughts, and he glanced down to realize that you had fallen asleep, clinging on to his shirt. He laughed to himself as he gently stroked your ponytail, enthralled by the vague smell of roses that it still bore.

 The sudden sound of shattered glass came from across the street and made him rise his glance in that direction, deciding that it's time he took you to a quieter place. Moving as silent as he could, he managed to place you on his back so that your hands we're barely brushing his chest as your regular breath tickled his left cheek.

As the night moved around you two, he slowly carried you through the quiet streets of the Australian city, the stars and the moon quietly watching over you both.

 He may not have been able to tell you what he was feeling like, but as you lazily wrapped your arms around his chest, leaving out a content moan, he couldn't imagine a better way to spend his last evening in Melbourne.

#the pacific #the pacific imagine #hoosier imagine #bill hoosier smith #the pacific hoosier #hoosier x reader

[lostloveletters]

All of the fics are based on the fictionalized portrayals in HBO War miniseries The Pacific and not the real individuals. No disrespect is intended with any of my work in this fandom. I do not take requests.

You can also find these fics on my AO3.

Do not interact if you’re under 18, a terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

And I Lay Right Down in My Favorite Place - Bill "Hoosier" Smith x Reader (Smut, female reader)

#the pacific #hbo war #lostloveletters masterlist

[softspeirs]

Clouds Overhead

Pairing: Bill “Hoosier” Smith x Female OC (Could be read as reader insert or as an unnamed OFC) Rating: PG-13 to be safe: mentions of war typical violence and PTSD. Summary: In Melbourne, Hoosier finds you, and you both find some peace. Author’s Note: I haven’t written for Hoosier before, but I have written a Tim Gutterson series before, so I’m pulling on elements of that to help with this. *shrugs* Disclaimer: As always, this is based on Jacob Pitts’ portrayal in The Pacific, and not on the real man. No disrespect is intended. I don’t own HBO or The Pacific. Lyrics inset are from Making April’s “These are the Nights” which I also don’t own.

So divine is this happening Can't I just graze your skin For the rest of our time But time isn't letting this night go on

Bill sleeps for almost the entire day while his friends are out reveling in their freedom. 

When he finally wakes, the moon is up, and he takes a minute to be grateful for the fact that for once, a full moon doesn’t mean a night of shelling and almost certain death. For once, he can enjoy it.

Or, he could, if there wasn’t someone right in his view. A woman, to be exact. For a half second, he wonders if he’s dead.

He rubs his eyes, but she’s still there. When he wakes up a little more, he realizes there’s a red armband around her bicep, and he watches curiously as she stares out across the pitch, mesmerized by the same sight he is. 

“Nice night,” he comments quietly, but she still jumps near out of her skin at the sound of his voice.

“Christ,” she curses. “You scared me.” 

American, he realizes.

“Sorry, ma’am.” He says, but he can’t help but smirk at her. God, but she’s a vision. Maybe he’s just starved for anybody’s company besides his friends, but he thinks this woman is the most beautiful thing he’s ever set eyes on.

“I didn’t think anyone would still be here.” She comes a little closer, close enough that Bill can make out more of her features, most notably the bruise darkening the left side of her face. Her shoulders slump as she realizes he’s noticed. “Occupational hazard,” she says before he can ask if she’s alright. “Why aren’t you AWOL?” 

He shrugs. “Tired.” 

She laughs, the sound music to his ears. “I slept for almost twelve hours when we first got here.” 

“How long have you been billeted here?” He asks, tucking his hands into his pockets and shifting his weight. Something about her knowing smile and kind eyes makes him feel off kilter. 

“Three days. I’m being transferred to the hospital.” 

“I’m Bill,” he blurts. She grins, and he wants a hole to open up and swallow him. 

She tells him her name, and Bill savors the sound of it, sure that she’s some kind of witch sent to put a spell on him. He feels spellbound, locked in her orbit. He doesn’t want her to leave. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asks, trying to find whatever charm he thinks might still be buried under all the grime and trauma of the last few weeks. 

“Are you asking me out, soldier?” 

It’s his turn to grin at her playful tone. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Meet you by the gates in twenty minutes?” She asks, and he nods, watching her as she goes. She looks over her shoulder and he’s still staring, unashamed, gratified by the shy look she gets when he locks eyes with her. 

A half hour later, he’s in his Class A’s, a little wrinkly, but certainly better than his grungy OD’s. He fidgets nervously as he waits for her to show up. 

“Bill,” her soft voice announces her arrival. “Sorry, I couldn’t find my shoes--” 

She’s tugging at her skirt as she walks, not paying attention to the way his jaw has gone completely slack as he takes her in. Her dress is also a little wrinkly, likely packed up in her trunk like his clothes are, but he doesn’t care about that. In fact, it makes her even more endearing. 

Her hair falls in loose curls around her face, and she must have found some lipstick somewhere, because they’re an enticing shade of berry, and Bill licks his lips despite himself. Luckily she doesn’t catch him, or he’d feel like the biggest jerk this side of the Pacific. 

“Do I have something on my face?” She asks when she catches him staring. 

“No,” he answers, his voice rough. “You’re perfect.” It slips out, far more honest than he intended to be. 

They both go quiet, and then she smiles, and the world rights itself again. Christ, he thinks, I’m done for.

.

.

In town, there are Marines and civilians everywhere, crowding the bars and streets. Bill keeps an eye out for his friends as he walks, both wanting to make sure they’re not causing too much trouble, and wanting to avoid them. He wants to keep this moment just for him. 

He looks down at her as they walk, still unable to believe his luck. 

“Can I ask you about that?” He asks her quietly, gesturing towards her cheekbone.

Her face goes carefully blank, and he curses himself. He should know better than to ask anyone who’s been in the shit about what happened to them. Not here.

“At the aid station, this man-- combat fatigue.” She mutters. “He was seeing things in his sleep. I thought he was going to hurt himself, so I tried to wake him up.” 

She doesn’t need to tell him the rest.

“Didn’t mean to bring down the mood.”

She looks up at him, her big eyes reflecting the moonlight. “It’s okay. It’s sort of... nice to talk about it with someone.” 

“You don’t have many friends here? I find that hard to believe.” He says, steering her towards a park. He originally intended on finding a place to get a drink, but he finds talking with her and listening to the lilt of her voice intoxicating enough.

She rolls her eyes at him. “I have some friends. Other nurses. Haven’t met the ones I’ll be bunking with now that I’m here, but.” She stops herself. “It’s hard to get to know anyone.”

He knows what she means. He feels the same way whenever replacements show up - he barely wants to know their names. 

They find a bench out of the way of prying eyes. The chatter of Marines all over the place pairs with the crickets providing the soundtrack for the evening.

“What about you?” She asks, “You have many friends?” 

He smiles thinking of the guys who have had his back since they landed on that godforsaken island. “A few.” He smirks. “They’re terrible. Hope you never meet them.” 

She grins. “Well, they can’t be as charming as you are, clearly...” 

He laughs, surprising himself. He can’t remember the last time someone made him laugh outside of a foxhole or a trench. 

“Where are you from?” He finds he wants to know everything about her.

“Chicago,” she says with a fond smile. “You?” 

“Indiana. A small town no one’s ever heard of.”

Nearby, a car backfires, and Bill surges off the bench, looking over to see her doing the same, hands clenched into fists. 

“Fuck,” Bill swears, hands shaking and cheeks red with embarrassment.

“It’s okay,” she says, taking a step closer, taking his hand automatically. He burns at her touch. “It’s okay,” she repeats.

“I’m sorry--”

“Don’t apologize.” She says fiercely, suddenly sounding angry.

He knows how she feels. 

It shouldn’t be like this. They should have met somewhere else. The state fair maybe, or while she was getting a milkshake with her friends. He would have spotted her, been unable to leave until he knew her name. 

He would have been unable to get her pretty face out of his head. 

Not here - not like this... with the thread of never ending carnage looming above both their heads. 

“Let’s go to the beach.” She says, out of the blue, tugging him closer with the hold she’s still got on his hand. 

He thinks he would follow her anywhere if she keeps looking at him like that.

The waves sound different than they did on Guadalcanal. 

They’re calmer here, not so harsh. Maybe it’s the circumstances. Maybe it’s the company. Either way, Bill finds himself leaning back on his hands, legs stretched out in front of him. 

Next to him, her skirt flutters in the breeze, the scent of something floral drifting towards him as the wind ruffles her hair. 

“You know,” she says suddenly, her voice quiet, “when I became a nurse, I was so naive. I thought I’d be... dabbing foreheads with a cold cloth. Serving sandwiches.” She shakes her head. “What an idiot.” 

“You’re not an idiot.” He insists. “I’m the one who volunteered to go halfway around the world and fight in the jungle.” 

She smiles softly, looking out at the water. “I had no idea what I was getting into. Neither did you. None of us, really.” She meets his eyes, hers burning with something that sets fire to his veins. “You’re going to make it,” she says fiercely. “You’re going to make it, and when this is all over, I’d very much like to see you again, Bill.” 

He wonders if there’s ever been another woman like her. 

They sit there awhile longer. When she starts to shiver, he takes a risk and slides closer, slinging his arm around her shoulder. She leans in, her head on his shoulder, and when that gets uncomfortable for them both, she unceremoniously climbs in front of him so she’s between his legs, leaning back against his chest. 

Their combined body heat makes him drowsy, and his hands wander, only a little. She sighs, and he’s never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his entire life.

They run out of time. 

The MPs start searching the park, and then the beach, and they both scramble to their feet to make a run for it, laughing the entire way back to the stadium. 

The Nurse Corps are billeted on the complete opposite side, and Bill finds himself looking for any reason not to let her go. 

“I think I’m wounded,” he says, smiling lazily. “You should probably stick around.” 

“I think you’re full of it.” 

“Full of something,” he murmurs. “Can I write to you?” 

She looks surprised. “I was going to ask you the same thing.” 

He ends that night with his cheek burning from where she’d kissed it, and her address in his pocket, “for afterwards,” she insists.

He hopes there is an afterwards.

.

.

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

He knocks, takes a few steps back.

A screen door opens and shuts. 

“Oh my god.” 

He finally looks up. 

“Oh my--” Her eyes are filled with tears, and she stops mid sentence to jump the last two porch steps and throw herself in his arms. 

He’s caught off guard, but feels his knees go weak not from the remnants of his injury, but from the sheer relief of seeing her again, of feeling her in his arms, when he was sure he’d never have this chance. 

He doesn’t hesitate - he tilts his head up and catches her lips, kissing her the way he wanted to the first night they met. She responds immediately, sighing against his mouth as he sets her back down on the ground so he can cup her face in his hands, breaking away only when he’s nearly gasping for breath. 

“Bill.” 

“Hi.” 

“I thought you--” She stops herself, hand going over her mouth to stifle her sob. “You never answered my last letter.” 

After Melbourne, they wrote to each other nearly every day. They know more about each other than Bill knows about some of his closest friends. That all stopped when he was hit. 

“The Marines had the audacity to send me to a hospital that wasn’t yours,” he says, smiling at her. His smile fades as he takes in every detail of her face. “Are you--” He looks over her shoulder towards the house. “Is there someone--” 

She looks stricken. “No. No, Bill, I told you.” 

He remembers. In her last letter, which he could probably recite by heart if he needed to. I’ll wait for you, she had said. There’s no one else.

He wasn’t dumb enough to think that would last forever when she got home, though. He’s still not sure... he doesn’t believe he could be that lucky.

The hesitation must be written on his face, because she gets this look of pure determination before she’s tugging on his hand, dragging him around the corner of the house, away from prying eyes and ears. 

She doesn’t even let him say another word. She pushes at his shoulders until his back is flat against the brick, and then she’s in his arms again, mouth pressed against his. 

Her hands grip his lapels to keep herself steady, and his find purchase on her hips, his breath leaving him in a stuttered groan at the passion in her kiss. 

He dreamed of her like this. He dreamed of a floral scent and a soft fabric bunching up under his hands, of finally, finally having enough time to kiss her like he meant it.

“I told you I would wait for you.” She gasps. “I don’t break my promises.” 

“Thank god for that,” he mutters, before diving back in for more.

For once, time is on his side. There’s nothing to rush now, no need to act like they might never see each other again. 

They’ve got all the time in the world.

'Cause these are the nights that you know when you're there You couldn't have planned it much better I swear and you hope That your senses aren't failing you now And you think to yourself now I could be wrong But I might have just stolen this scene from a song and you know That your senses aren't failing you now 

End

#hoosier smith x reader #hoosier smith x oc #bill hoosier smith x reader #the pacific #the pacific fanfiction #softspeirs the pacific fanfiction

[softspeirs]

mercurygray replied to your photo “Pairing: Bill “Hoosier” Smith x Female OC (Could be read as reader...”

Oh. Oh, this was nice. This was real nice.

Thank you! 😘

#mercurygray