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latibvles · 1 year

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SAD, BEAUTIFUL, TRAGIC.

beautiful, tragic. // no hard feelings.

it's important to take a break sometimes.

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last update for this week i swear I just needed to get this out before I combust

TAGLIST: @softguarnere , @liebgotts-lovergirl , @monalistastwin

WARNINGS: none

SUMMARY: there are two distinct groups in the Nursing Company — those who go out and those who don't. Apparently, Daisy is meant to spend a night with the former.

In their Company, there seems to be two distinct groups.

About twenty of their women belonged to some hospital prior to this one. Transfers from 128th, or 42nd, or whichever field hospitals dotted the shores of Normandy or even came from the cities themselves. The other fifty are fresh-faced 2nd Lieutenants, straight off the boat. She figured that one out when she stopped by Ginny’s billet one night to ensure their Captain hadn’t worked herself into an early grave.

After getting the numbers, it seemed to make itself more apparent in real life as well.

A lot of the newer women are absolutely enamored with the idea of going to the Bell, or the Boar when off-duty. Sometimes Daisy watches them hop into jeeps that will take them fifteen minutes into town. Sometimes she doesn’t. In the past two weeks — it’s become Rogers’ mission to get her to go with them ‘just one time!’

“I’m just sayin’! I think you could use a break! If you’re not with us you’re helpin’ Lieutenant McCarney or Captain Brant or doin’ somethin’ or other,” She hums out, as they carry their respective crates filled with new uniforms over to the supply office. “Could meet a couple boys, play a game — y’know Jane’s gettin’ real good at darts and I think it’s got half to do with that sergeant that’s been hangin’ offa her.”

Laura Rogers is a new nurse, dropped in and expected to keep up with the rest. Her features are soft and almost princess-like, big blue eyes and a near ever-lasting dreamlike smile on her face. Her hair is blonde, but even lighter than Ginny’s — a near platinum color. It came as little surprise to her when she learned that before this, Rogers had been an aspiring pin-up model. Couple it with her soft southern accent and the way that every step she takes is almost impossibly fluid, the woman honestly seems like a dream in and of itself.

Daisy decides to entertain the gossip, if only for a few moments.

“Sergeant? Do tell.” Laura smiles, giddy as a schoolgirl.

“Mm. Big blue eyes. Sweet talker. I think he likes chasin’ her around ‘cause she hasn’t given him a thing beyond that smile of hers and a peck on the cheek. Oh! And he’s got just the cutest crooked tooth when he flashes his smile. I’m tellin’ ya I think you’d really like the boys down there!”

Even when first reaching Europe, Daisy didn’t venture off hospital grounds much. It was neither here nor there — Rita would get off grounds when she could with the other women to venture out and meet people. Once, Ginny accompanied her and returned with a fond story of a quieter Lieutenant at the officer’s club that she had good conversation with. Daisy, on the other hand, spent a lot of time in the ward, helping out even if she didn’t have to, or writing letters home.

Now, it seems that the universe had different plans for her.

“You just don’t take no for an answer, huh Rogers?” The woman smiles proudly once they set the boxes down, leaving them with the quartermaster.

“If I did I woulda never been a pin-up model or a combat nurse.” She declares, nose in the air and hands on her hips. Daisy chuckles to herself, smiling in spite of the woman’s antics. And to think just a few weeks ago, the woman could barely do the morning run.

It’s how she finds herself in front of a mirror on a Friday night, staring at herself in the mirror with a scrutinizing expression on her face. Brows furrowed, she’s tried her best to replicate one of the nicer hairstyles Patty has done on her countless times, always somehow managing to make her hair seem shorter than it actually is. She thinks she’s gotten it almost right, the ends pinned into loops at the base of her neck — she’s already sleeping in the Campbells’ son’s room, she isn’t going to ask for their hair curlers too.

In the reflection, she can hear Rita’s snickering. Daisy narrows her eyes.

“I’ve half a mind to leave you here, Miss McCarney.”

“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I let you keep the boys to yourself, Miss Clarke,” she rises to her feet and goes over to tug on Daisy’s ear. She snorts and swats at her friend half-heartedly, Rita grabbing her hand before she can strike her and promptly dragging her away. “Now quit fussing over yourself and lets go — been a long damn time since I’ve got a night off and I’ll be damned if I spend the whole of it watching you stress over your hair.”

Daisy doesn’t object, allowing the woman to drag her along. There’s a jeep waiting for them, a familiar freckle-faced woman in the passenger’s seat. Behind her, is a slightly less familiar woman, her hair a coppery color, drumming out a beat on the back of the driver’s seat. Daisy smiles at Patty, lets out a sigh of her own.

“If I knew you were coming I would’ve asked you to do my hair. Would’ve saved me a lot of harassment,” She gives Rita a blatant side eye, and the woman scoffs and sucks her teeth. Patty giggles, and Daisy shifts her gaze to Jane Gray, who nods in her direction as a form of acknowledgement, her hazel eyes pensive.

“Heard you’ve made a darts partner out of a sergeant.”

The girl’s cheeks flush, and she breaks eye contact.

“And I’m guessing you heard that from Rogers?” Daisy gets into the back and Rita takes the wheel, nodding as she does so. “...he’s uh, he’s somethin’ alright, I can say that much.” She’s short with the reply, giving Daisy something of a stiff nod.

Daisy can’t help but notice that Jane Gray is more… enigmatic in nature. Quiet, observant, a near polar opposite to Laura’s extroversion, and yet they travel arm-in-arm almost everywhere. Daisy had met introverted people, and it wasn’t anything that she wasn’t used to, but with Jane she can’t help but notice how quick she is to retreat from the conversation, continuing to drum her fingers on the seat as Patty and Rita chatter away in the front.

Not wanting to overstep her bounds — she lets the conversation die there.

The Bell is busy. There’s laughter and the clinking of glasses and it doesn’t take long for her to spot Laura, chattering away to a very familiar and very flustered soldier. She isn’t sure if Malarkey’s cheeks are flushed from the drinks or from the way Laura’s excitedly holding onto his hands as she chatters away. Regardless, and unsurprisingly, she can pick out a few mildly envious gazes from a couple men in the room.

“She’s cast her spell, it seems,” Accompanied with a melodramatic sigh and a bemused smile, Catherine Ward walks over, reaching for Jane’s hand which she gladly takes. “We really ought to get her a wand, maybe a nice hat?” Rita snorts at that, rolling her eyes lightheartedly. Another woman from Sicily, Catherine was also a quieter type. She had inky black curls and dark eyes to match, even with a resting face — she always seemed stern, like a mother would. She’d also mentioned a thing or two about a pilot she was seeing before the war started — so the likelihood of her playing chaperone for the night is high, and a position Daisy would like to partake in if not for…

“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me!” At this point, the familiar tenor makes a smile creep onto her face. Liebgott saunters over, just as lanky and loud and full of grandeur as he does each time he demands her attention. His gaze flits between her, and then Rita. Catherine, Jane, and Patty had idled their way towards a table Catherine had been keeping warm. She doesn’t miss the twitch of the corner of his lip as his gaze lingers on Rita for a bit longer, who stares at him with a raised brow and arms folded across her chest.

He extends his hand to her in a gesture that’s slowly becoming more familiar. Daisy takes it, allowing him to spin her for a moment and whistle, low and teasing. She rolls her eyes.

“Was wonderin’ when you’d show up around here.”

“Cause I totally struck you as a party-goer, right?” Liebgott laughs at that, and then turns his attention fully to Rita to greet her.

“Lieutenant McCarney,” and then a pause that seems longer than what it actually is. She pretends not to notice how he looks Rita up and down, pausing at the shiny new bars on her collar. “First Lieutenant McCarney. Congratulations.” There’s something in the way he draws it out — how his smirk seems to grow, and she’s close enough to hear Rita let out a soft puff of breath, as though she’s resetting herself or stepping up to hit a baseball.

“How sweet. Thank you Lieb,” she hums out, his brows shoot up at the shortening of his name.

Daisy clears her throat.

“Right then, well I’m gonna—”

“Oh no you don’t,” Liebgott immediately interjects, and his hand goes to latch around her wrist loosely to keep her from slipping away. “I’ve missed my dart partner and you have some explaining to do.”

“You know, a grilling really isn’t the way I want to spend my night off,” The complaint, seemingly, falls upon deaf ears (as in, Liebgott certainly hears her, but she learned rather quickly that she attracts stubborn types, so he isn’t going to relent anyway). “Alright, fine, but if we lose again you bear the consequences.”

It starts out fairly merciful. And they aren’t losing at darts, either.

It’s mostly lighthearted teasing. She, properly, meets George Luz. Between rounds Liebgott leans against a table beside Rita to the point where they’re shoulder-to-shoulder, and after each shot Buck Compton looks at Daisy with a sort of smile she’s seen a million times before. Upon learning he’s a big-shot from UCLA, it all makes more sense. She hopes that the smile she gives him will be enough appeasement. Liebgott, lightheartedly, scolds her for not coming to see him sooner with a “You hidin’ from me or somethin’?” Daisy responds to it with a smile and a shrug and a “Maybe I was.”

He puts his hand over his heart as though he’s been wounded, and Daisy laughs. Buck steps out of the way, making a sweeping gesture that she figures is meant to be gentlemanly. She nods in acknowledgment.

“Careful Buck, never know when The Dog’ll come and whisk her away,” George warns, eliciting a few chuckles. Rita and Daisy, however, are utterly perplexed.

“The Dog?” She lines up her shot and—

“Oh, you know, ol’ Bloody Speirs.”

She misses. Her face feels hot.

“That’s not— you’ve got the wrong idea.” Luz’s grin only seems to grow in a boyish way, the kind that makes her want to tug on his ears or put him in a headlock. She won’t though, because he’s got two inches on her.

“I didn’t have any idea, sweetheart. Just saw you two walking together back at the bivouac. Should I have an—”

But what she does do is hurriedly rush over, clamping one of her hands over his mouth. The corners of his eyes seem to crinkle in amusement as she glares at him, knowing it’s not nearly as threatening as she wants it to be, and since she’s in his face, he can no doubt see the way her face is flushed, better than most. Daisy’s brows furrow and she huffs.

“‘Ey ease up on the girl wouldja?” Hand still clamped over George’s mouth, she turns her head to a dark haired man sitting at a nearby table. He has a thick Philly accent and dark hair. He looks even younger than her — maybe even fresh out of high school. It takes a moment for her to recall his name. “Who knows? Maybe he was on his way t’ take Alton out for good and doll face over here saved his fuckin’ life.” Bill Guarnere. That’s his name.

That seems to shift the attention off of her, as the men in the nearby vicinity begin to exchange stories about ‘Alton’ and pull Malarkey into the conversation. Malarkey, who looks like he just won the lottery with Laura standing between his legs as he sits on a barstool, his hands tentatively placed on her hips. She doesn’t seem to mind.

Daisy does a very quick scan of the area. Patty seems to be talking to a man with pale blue eyes and a bashful smile on his face — he looks about as young as Guarnere. So it seems Jane's sergeant is none other than Floyd Talbert. He sits with her and Catherine and she doesn’t know what they’re talking about — but Jane seems to be amused at the very least. Daisy’s eyes land on Rita — and she immediately knows the expression on the woman’s face. Brows furrowed, lip between her teeth. Connecting dots.

She takes her hand off of George’s mouth. He’s still smiling. She can’t even be mad at him.

“Joe, would you just take your turn already? Since y’wanna laugh at me missing,” Liebgott straightens up, all smiles as he waltzes over and Daisy scurries back to take her spot by Rita. There’s a beat of silence. She feels the warmth of Rita’s hand wrapping around her arm for a moment.

“So that… guy you were talking to me about. Paratrooper? Was it—”

“Yeah.”

“And are you two…”

“We’re fine,” Daisy can feel her face flushing a deeper shade of red. She stares directly ahead. “We’re…friends. Have been for a while. That’s it.”

Another pause. Rita squeezes her arm.

“Good.”

It’s a momentary lapse, but no one seems to linger on it too long, not even Luz, who offers her an ‘apology pint’ and his best rendition of Taking A Chance on Love as reparations for flustering her — with his own whistles and all. She takes it in stride, with a half-hearted threat to tug on his ear if he tries it again. She and Liebgott (unsurprisingly) lose the game, but jokes and stories are shared. Apparently the same Sobel Ginny scolded was their former C.O, and so the boys are extremely amused at the idea of Sobel being yelled at over the telephone. She finds Eugene amongst them, and eventually the two sit back, observing for a moment at the mingling bodies.

He tells her about his fiancee, Vera, about how they’re planning to marry when the war’s over. She tells him about her brother’s apparent new girlfriend, and the new company. Two flies on the wall, they exchange smiles as Daisy makes her observations and make minimal, but warm conversation.

Rita and Liebgott exchange looks continuously — they aren’t subtle about it and, knowing Rita, she isn’t trying to be, but the way they… challenge each other is a little amusing to watch. Like they’re competing to see who’ll crack. Patty’s smile is radiant as ever, and she isn’t sure what the man next to her is saying — but it must be good from the way her face lights up. Jane and Talbert have taken their turn at the dart board, and after every throw Talbert looks as though to make sure she’s watching. Her face breaks from its pensive expression every time to give him a quirk of a smile. Catherine, on the other side, watches like a hawk. They make eye contact, smile in that sort of bemused way she imagines her old high school teachers must have felt watching them all at school functions.

She’s a little happy that she gave into Laura’s pestering after all.

They don’t get back until late, but Daisy makes a point to ensure everyone makes it to their billet. Lingering at the door, Rita looks her up and down.

“Don’t dilly-dally too long, alright?” She chides, and Daisy laughs.

“Uh huh, I won’t. Just have to tuck the Captain into bed. Read her a bedtime story. Forehead kiss. You know how it is,” Rita’s smile is a bit softer, and she nods.

“Damn right I do. Make sure our girl doesn’t work herself half to death, alright?”

Daisy nods, before making her way over to where she knows Ginny to be staying. It’s familiar territory. If it wasn’t her doing this, it’d be Rita — part of her wishes she could have convinced the woman to come with them, but she also knows just how bull-headed Virginia Brant truly is. She approaches, ready to knock on the door, when she hears footsteps behind her.

“Daisy?”

She turns around. Ginny stands there, her dress jacket in her arms to embrace the cool summer night. The full moon does the woman no favors — Daisy can clearly see the surprised look on her face, and what seems to be a pink tint glowing on her cheeks. Lips parted, but hair still neatly in its ringlets, as picturesque as she always is. Daisy smiles, leaning against the door.

“Came to check on you, make sure you didn’t fall asleep at your desk again,” she says simply, looking her friend over once again. Her grin shifts to something of a smirk. “Did you… go out? Take a break?” Usually, Ginny’s laugh is full of spirit, like the words she speaks — carrying weight. This comes out as light, airy. Daisy almost feels like a mother catching her daughter coming into the house after curfew.

“Yeah I… I did. Went down to the Blue Boar.” Daisy hums.

“I’m glad you took a break then, you deserve it more than anyone,” Daisy starts out, and she means it. “Did you have fun?” Ginny’s cheeks, somehow, seem to flush even more. Her gaze softens into something she’s beginning to recognize more amongst the women — in Jane, and Catherine, and even in Rita. Her very disposition is a rare sight.

“Yeah, actually, I did,” she manages, uncharacteristically shy. “I really did.”

#fic // sad beautiful tragic #band of brothers #ronald speirs #hbo war #ron speirs #band of brothers fic #hbo war fic #ron speirs x reader #ronald speirs x oc #Dick winters x ofc #ronald speirs x ofc #joseph liebgott x ofc #it’s all downhill from here btw

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softguarnere · 1 year

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Like A Girl (Like A Man)

Shifty Powers x OFC

Chapter Three: Brother in Three Languages

Taglist: @latibvles @liebgotts-lovergirl

Summary: Routine may be her downfall after all.

Warnings: mentions of improper chest binding and menstruation, mentions of sickness, and like one cuss word

A/N: *cracks knuckles* Okay folks, settle in for a caveat.

If you've read my one shots in the past, then you know that I'm simply here for a good time, not a 100% historically accurate time. I've never seen a specific mention of exactly which tribe Shifty's family was from, but based on the area that he's from, and the fact that there are people on the Miller Roll with his father's last name and his mother's maiden name, we're gonna make an educated guess and say that they were from the Cherokee tribe for the purposes of this story :)

Also when I tell you that this is a slow burn, I mean sloooooow, so buckle up for miscommunications and all the other fun stuff that comes from having an emotionally illiterate MC

Besides that, as per the usual, this is based on the fictional depictions of from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans! 💕🕊️

Toccoa, 1942

Finding someone like her was not something that Zenie expected when she imagined running away and joining up. Keeping her distance from the others, maintaining a few polite relations so that she didn’t stick out too much, doing well in her training, but not too well – that had been the plan. Becoming friends with an NCO and his close circle of friends had been a welcome surprise. And befriending Shifty is the kind of surprise that sends a little thrill through her chest. Which has never happened before, but she’s so shocked that she found someone like her – someone who gets it – that she starts to enjoy the way that the sight of him entering a room makes her heart speed up and the way that she can smile so easily around him.

For a plan that relied so much on acting, Zenie feels nothing but natural when she and Shifty spend time together. And considering that so much of her plan relied on lying, most of what she tells Shifty about her life is the truth.

No one has ever understood her in this way before. Not even Bobby, and especially not Beckie. Zenie tells him about her father, the stern son of Irish immigrants, and Mama, the beautiful Cherokee woman who gave Zenie her dark hair and eyes. Then there’s Matthew, who, even though he was adopted, was the best older brother she could have asked for, and Marilyn, the fashionable older sister. It’s nice to talk to someone who knows what her family is like. Comforting, even. Especially when their conversations turn towards the mountains and what it’s like to grow up in the hollows of Appalachia.

Someone finally feels the way that Zenie does about so many things. All those times that she spent feeling lonely in her room, feeling as if her own life were suffocating her, wondering if there was more to the world, and if there was a place where she belonged in it – they all feel like a distant memory now. Since arriving in Toccoa, she has never asked herself those same forlorn questions and has never felt that hollow ache in her chest. She doesn’t have to, because her questions have been answered.

There is a place where she feels like she belongs. There are people who understand her. There is more to life than working at the diner and cleaning the house.

But that life is for Thomas. Would it still be open to her if she had entered this new world as Zenie?

Time flies by with only occasional letters from Bobby to remind her of the life she left behind and the turning of the leaves to signal the change in season. Most of Toccoa’s days are marked with memories – funny things that Luz has said, runs where she beats Toye up Currahee on their runs.

Of course, Zenie has changed, just like the leaves. Mentally, yes, but physically too as she grows stronger, her muscles more toned, faster. She likes these changes. Aside from the extra weight on her chest, she feels like she has nothing to hide – if not for her carefully bound breasts, she would be free to show of her physique like her friends. And certain other changes have certainly come in handy; she finds herself thanking a God that she’s not sure she believes in when her menstrual cycle ceases due to the rigorous training and stress of life at Camp Toccoa.

The health sponges she managed to shove into her mattress to avoid detection during inspections become one less thing to worry about. Every other aspect of maintaining her identity still causes a fresh wave of panic to roll over her at a moment’s notice, though.

Routine, she thought when she first arrived at the camp, would be her savior. She manages to shower after everyone else. She finds excuses to visit the latrine at different times. She tries not to stiffen when her friends give her a slap on the back after running Currahee, hoping that they won’t feel the bandages beneath her PT clothes, and that they’ll attribute her labored breathing to her shorter legs making her work harder to keep up with them, instead of the fabric pinching her ribs suffocating her. In the mornings, she’s up bright and early to sneak off, bandage her chest, and change clothes before anyone can notice that anything is amiss.

Except people are noticing.

“You performance shy or somethin’?”

Zenie pauses, the door of the barracks half closed behind her, allowing a slat of early morning sunlight to cut through the long room, helping to wake the rest of Easy Company as they slide out of their bunks and begin their day. She clicks the door shut before turning to the man standing by one of the first bunks, staring at her with curious eyes that she could swear see right through her disguise.

“What?”

Joseph Liebgott only shrugs. Brown eyes flick up and down over her, like a light switch flipping. “You’re up before everyone else, and you never change in the barracks. Not sure I’ve ever seen you in the showers, but you’re always clean . . .”

Zenie lets out a half-hearted laugh, feeling like she’s choking on it as more men turn their attention to her. “Why are you lookin’ for me in the showers, Lieb?”

A few snorts from those nearby and a blush running across Liebgott’s face allow Zenie to escape relatively unscathed. Routine may be her downfall after all.

She tries to be careful – even more careful – after that. The only other time that someone gives her so much as a raised eyebrow or a questioning glance comes from Shifty, of all people.

It happens on a Saturday. He, Zenie, and Bill are sprawled between the beds and the small tables between them, abandoning their half-hearted game of cards to reminisce about their past lives and rant about Sobel – who’s the entire reason they’re even in the barracks instead of out on the town with everyone else. Damned weekend passes.

At some point in the conversation, they realize that they all have a real talent for languages. Bill knows Italian, and Shifty and Zenie both speak Cherokee. The languages of their ancestors start to pepper themselves into the conversation as they talk about home – that natural association between home as a place and language as the thing that makes it feel like home to begin with.

Bill is convinced that being able to speak to each other in combat without other people being able to understand them could be helpful at some point. Their own secret code. When it happens, he’s trying to teach them Italian, and they’re trying to teach him Cherokee.

He flips a card between his fingers. “Here’s a good one: Fratellino.” He gestures towards Zenie when he says it. When she raises her eyebrows and shakes her head, he taps the card against the table. “Little brother. Tu sei il mio fratellino.”

“You are my little brother,” she guesses. She should have been able to guess that one, based on how often Bill refers to her as the little brother of the group. One time after PT when they were roughhousing, she overheard Lieutenant Nixon tell Lieutenant Winters that he was going to start calling her Thomas Guarnere because of how close she stuck to her friend.

“You got a brother, don’t ya?” Bill tilts his head. “You don’t talk about home as much as the rest of us. Or as fondly, at least.”

She nods, a lump in her throat and words from one of Bobby’s letters flashing across her memory. Saw your parents yesterday. Your brother was home on leave – first time since you left. He seemed real worried about you.

“Yeah. Matthew.”

“How would you say that he’s your brother?”

“In Tsalagi or Italian?”

He shrugs. “Either one.”

“Matthew è mio fratello, for you. But I would say Matthew agido’i.”

It happens so quickly that she can’t even be sure it actually occurred. Later, she’s convinced that she imagined it, but she could swear that Shifty stiffens beside her, that his eyebrows furrow slightly as he throws her a confused glance. Before anything more can happen, Bill smiles at her.

“Matteo, in Italian, but you’re right! Geez Tommy, you’re good at this. Maybe we outta send you into intelligence with Lieutenant Nixon.”

Whatever reason for pause that she gave Shifty, Bill doesn’t seem to notice it. Shifty never brings it up, never casts her another curious look, so she doesn’t press the issue. And she tries not to question why her friend’s glance makes her feel like there are butterflies in her chest.

It all happens so unexpectedly that she thinks she now knows how Icarus felt the minute that the wax melted off his wings and he started to plummet back to Earth.

“You know, next time I see the dear ol’ Captain, I may just have to fall at his feet and thank him,” Luz chirps over the sounds of the crowded mess hall.

“That’s probably just what he wants,” Toye says. “Maybe he finally got the hint that nobody likes him. He’s just trying to get on our good sides.”

Luz pushes his garlic bread through the spaghetti sauce on his plate, his usual smile even brighter than usual. “Spaghetti and afternoon lectures indoors? I would say that it’s working, my friend.”

It’s clever, actually. Sobel can’t appeal to them sensitively like Lieutenant Winters can, so he’s decided to appeal to them through their appetites instead. After all, everyone knows that the fastest way to men’s hearts is through their stomachs.

Maybe the same can be said for Zenie. The sounds of silverware scraping against plates and laughter come together to form a symphony of camaraderie that elevates the spirits of the mess hall. She’s half focused on her spaghetti, and half focused on casually knocking against Toye every so often as they jokingly fight over a piece of extra garlic bread. Still, something holds her back from fully releasing herself to the good mood that everyone else is swept up in. In her world, benevolent acts from tyrants usually aren’t without some sort of price. Even if Sobel isn’t intentionally expecting them to pay some sort of price for today’s uncharacteristically kind gesture – which she seriously doubts – she wouldn’t be surprised if they all somehow unintentionally got food poisoning, just so the universe could balance out the score once more.

A forkful of noodles is halfway to her mouth when Guarnere jostles her from behind as he takes a seat at the next table, squeezing in beside Perconte as the other Italian comments on the quality of the food.

“Oh come on, Gonorrhea! As a fellow Italian, you should know that callin’ this crap spaghetti is a mortal sin!” Perconte insists above the din.

A few people down the bench from her, another paratrooper turns and makes a grab for Perconte’s plate. “If you don’t want it, I’ll have it.”

“No, no, no, I’m eatin’ here!” A sharp elbow to the ribs nudges the paratrooper back into his seat.

Bill jabs his own elbow at him. “Hey, get outta here!”

All the jostling is just enough to loosen Zenie’s grip on her garlic bread. Toye laughs as he takes it, shoving it into his mouth before she can protest. On both the old instinct of being the youngest sibling and her new instinct of reacting the way a boy would, she’s about to shove him and call him a dirty name, but the shrill scream of a whistle cuts her off.

Loud footsteps and long strides usher Captain Sobel into the mess hall. “Orders have changed! Get up!”

Silverware clatters and all the joking voices from a moment before fizzle out, like water dropped on hot cement – there one second, gone without a trace the next.

“Lectures are cancelled!” Captain Sobel bellows as he strides down the path between the tables. “Easy Company is running up Currahee!” Everyone collectively hangs their heads or grimaces, but no one dares make even so much as an audible sigh. “Move! Move!”

The sudden orders leave no room for routines or careful planning. They leave her absolutely nowhere to hide. Her stomach has turned into an ocean caught in the middle of a hurricane – the kind of storm that takes people’s livelihoods and leaves no survivors. Never in all her time at Toccoa has Zenie felt genuine fear course through her veins. Not during combat training. Not during her interactions with the other men. Not the thought of jumping out of a plane. But there’s a first time for everything.

Captain Sobel’s cries of “Three miles up! Three miles down! Hi ho Silver!” feel like taunts aimed directly at her.

Luckily, Zenie is wearing her white PT shirt under her ODs. Everyone is in such a rush that she hopes the rest of the company will change and be out the door before her. She can always catch up to them as they head to the base of the mountain. But her friends are determined that no man should be left behind.

“Come on Tommy!” Guarnere urges as Zenie steps behind her bunk and faces the wall, trying to slide into her shorts as quickly as she can. People are rushing by her so quickly that no one seems to notice that her proportions are different than their own.

The next thing that she knows, she and her friends are packed together, elbows knocking into each other as they join the rest of the company. Usually there’s more space to run, but everyone seems determined to stick close together, not wanting to risk being left behind.

Despite how close they all are, Sobel somehow manages to squeeze in between them, throwing taunts and insults at them between the sounds of all the retching, wheezing, and puke splattering on the trail.

“You’re a washout Private Hoobler! Looks like Gordon’s gone! Aren’t you Gordon?” Zenie feels his presence over her shoulder just as a wave of nausea rolls over her, causing her to stumble slightly as her stomach jolts. Stars dance across her vision as the bandages pinch her ribs, never letting her lungs expand enough to get the air they so desperately crave. “Private Driver is too short to keep up on a good day, and look at him now! If you struggle this much in Georgia, how do you expect to keep up in Germany?”

Just like some of the other men, she could puke. If she times it correctly, maybe she could make sure it hits Sobel’s shoes. That would teach him a lesson.

A few men ahead of her, Luz’s voice rings out. “We fall upon the risers, we fall upon the grass!”

“We never land upon our feet, we always hit our ass!” The rest of the company joins in. It’s not like the good time crowd back in the mess hall only moments ago, but it’s amazing how one can feel the spirit of camaraderie unite them as they join in the song, pumping their arms and legs with renewed vigor as they scale the mountain.

Zenie chokes down bile and joins in as she pushes past Sobel. “Heidy deidy, Christ Almighty, who the hell are we?”

By some miracle, the song carries her the rest of the way up Currahee, and then another miracle brings her back down the mountain without losing her lunch or falling on her face – both things that she has to concentrate on harder than ever. Everyone is so exhausted by the time they reach the base of the mountain that no one notices Zenie as she stumbles off towards the latrine.

She doesn’t quite make it. Instead, her legs give out behind one of the bunk houses and she collapses there, balancing on her knees and one hand and she tries to loosen her bandages through her shirt. The wood of the building is surprisingly cool as she leans her forehead against it, hiding herself away from the rest of the world of men as she works through her own body betraying her.

A few times, late at night while staring at the ceiling, she finds herself worrying about being shot and the medics and nurses discovering her secret as they try to save her. She didn’t expect to find herself feeling like death while still in camp – and she definitely doesn’t expect the soft hand on her back that starts to rub soothing circles as she tries to catch her breath.

She recoils from the touch, but there’s no way that whoever has appeared behind her hasn’t noticed the bandages. There’s nothing she can do about that, except maybe try to explain it away when she manages to breathe without seeing entire constellations again. What’s one more lie at this point?

The person behind her continues rubbing circles on her back. “Here,” a soft voice says, gently pressing something familiar into one of her hands. “Will this help?”

Between her gasps and the churning sensation in her stomach, Zenie feels hot tears prick at her eyes as she accepts what he hands her without a fight.

That’s the moment that she knows she’s been found out: the minute she realizes that someone has just handed her a health sponge.

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 1 year

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Just Come Home - Ronald Speirs x OFC

When Valerie Harmon finds herself alone and stranded in France following the Nazi invasion, she is sure her future is lost. But when a chance encounter brings her closer to Easy Company and a certain Captain, her life begins to rebuild itself anew.

Just Come Home is now on AO3!

#just come home #band of brothers #band of brothers fic #band of brothers oc #ronald speirs x oc #ronald speirs x reader #ronald speirs x ofc #ronald speira #carwood lipton #chuck grant #dick winters #lewis nixon #floyd talbert #george luz #hbo war #hbo war fic

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goyaagogo · 2 years

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I’ll Be Seeing You (George Luz x Ofc)

wow wow woooww the final installment is finally here. ngl i got slightly weepy while writing this. weeee...

in case I never posted it before, here is the song that inspired this whollleee thing.

Previous parts:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Chapter 11-

"Simone... Simone, I have to go..." Simone was awakened by George's soft voice and his hand on her cheek.

She opened her eyes, still heavy with sleep, and saw George sitting on the edge of the bed in the dim light of the morning.

"Don't go, come back to bed." she whispered, grasping his hand and placing kisses on his knuckles.

He gave her a sweet smile, "I wish I could... God, you have no idea how bad I wish I could stay... but I'll come back tonight, I promise."

She nodded and he leaned down and kissed her.

"Okay... be safe..." she said as he stood up and walked to the door.

"I'll see you later, kid." George said with a wink before disappearing down the stairs.

She sighed and moved over to George's side of the bed, soaking up what warmth was left. Simone was falling in love with George, and she knew she could fight it no longer-- and she didn't want to either. She wanted to enjoy this feeling, the euphoria of young love. She hugged his pillow to her and fell back into a deep sleep.

__________________

She had spent the day around the house, enjoying a quiet day of chores that had been ignored for far too long, hoping the day would go by faster if she busied herself.

She spent the afternoon cooking as much of a feast she could make on her rations, calling in a few favors to get a freshly baked loaf of bread, and a small hen that she roasted with the few potatoes she had left. By evening she was exhausted but happy that soon she would see George.

She waited at the table, their dinner laid out, imagining George's delight when he came and saw the meal, but a half hour went by, then an hour-- then 2 hours, and still no George. She couldn't tell if she was more annoyed or scared at his absence. He promised he would be there, hadn't he?

She laughed out loud bitterly when she realized how foolish she was-- a promise in a war is useless because not even living was a guarantee.

Simone got up from the table and went out onto her stoop and looked down the street. It was empty, not a single soul to be seen, and only the faint roar of gunfire off in the distance.

She felt sick to her stomach-- there was a reason why George wasn't here-- there was a reason that no one was there with her-- not Malarkey, not Ron-- no one.

Chapter 12-

Simone sat by the fireplace, staring into the small fire, watching it dance and crackle in the hearth. She felt numb-- absolutely, utterly numb. She hadn't seen George-- or anyone from Easy, for that matter- for 3 days.

Through Mathilde, she learned that Hitler's thugs were on their last leg in Bastogne, that they were fighting to the bitter end, which meant that Easy was fighting for their lives. The gunfire and shelling had become relentless the last couple of days, becoming the background to Simone's life.

The days had dragged on slowly, as if time was stuck in mud, and she could hardly stand how out of control it made her feel. She had considered-- on multiple occasions -- going to CP, to see what was going on-- but she knew that was foolish, she would only be putting herself and the men at even greater risk. How could she go on waiting like this though? She was sure she was going mad.

Simone stood up and went to the window, the morning light was beginning to color the grey cloudy sky. When was the last time she really slept? Had it been her last night with George?

She yawned and was walking back to the fire when there was a soft, tentative knock at her door. Simone froze, her heart full of both hope and dread. She rushed to the door, her heart pounding in her ears.

She pulled open the door so fast that it rebounded off the wall. At her door was Winters.

"I'm sorry to bother you this early in the morning--"

Her attention turned to the deafening silence around them. What happened to the constant shelling? The barrage of gunfire that had been relentless.

"What happened? Why is it quiet?" Dick looked confused at her interruption, and took a moment to find his words.

"May I come in?" he asked with a polite smile.

Simone stood aside and let him enter, her tired mind trying to sort through the possibilities of what had happened.He stood near the table as she leaned against the sink, her hands gripping the edge of the porcelain basin for dear life.

"Easy company is being relieved in Bastogne. We're moving out some time today."

"Is... is it over?"

Dick smiled ruefully, "not quite, but soon, we think."

"Where are you going?"

Her mind felt cloudy and slow, as if she was in a dream. Easy company was leaving? George was leaving?

"The belly of the beast. Germany."

"Oh."

Dick was silent for a moment before stepping towards her, his hand outstretched.

"Simone, thank you for everything, you've been invaluable. If we ever meet again, I pray it's under better circumstances."

She shook his hand and gave a small smile.

"Thank you..." she said quietly, the weight of what was happening still taking its time to sink in.

Dick gave a small nod, "Au revoir, Simone. I'll see myself out."

As soon as he shut the door behind him, Simone began to cry-- silent sobs that wracked her body.

She would never see George again. She told herself this over and over, but still her mind couldn't comprehend. How was it possible that she'd never see him again? Never see his bright smile, or feel his warm grasp on her waist-- she would have to learn to live without it. To be without him.

_______________

It had only been a few hours since Dick left, but it may as well have been an eternity. The fire had died out long ago, but Simone still sat at the table, playing with a small box of matches that George had left once.

The last remnant of George in her life-- the only proof he had ever been real to her. A knock at the door startled her out of her daydreams of George.

For the first time in a long time, the knock at her front door scared her. She wasn't expecting anyone, especially with Easy having left.

Another knock came, this time followed by a voice:

"Simone...? Are you home?"

George.

Simone ran out the door and right into his arms. She didn't care that they were on her stoop for anyone to see.

"Hey! Hey... why are you crying?" George asked, cradling her in his arms.

He led her inside to the kitchen where she clung to him again, breathing in his scent, trying to remember exactly how it felt to be in his arms. He held her close, his arms wrapped tight around her-- it seemed he was doing the same.

Simone finally pulled herself away and looked up at him,"When are you leaving?"

He sighed, "Technically... right now.. we had orders to move out at 0800."

"I know I have to let you go, but..."

Her words failed her as silent tears began to fall again, she couldn't meet his eyes.

"Simone, I was thinking... this war isn't going to last forever, right? I mean, we're moving into Germany-- it will be a few months at most. When it's over I can come back, and I was thinking... well, I was thinking you could come back with me... to America."

Simone was speechless. He wanted to be with her, not just for wartime, but for life.

George continued, his words fast with an edge of hope, "I know America is a whole lot different than Belgium, but I think you'd like it. We could get married, and I could take care of you, you wouldn't have to work-- unless you want to, I'll even help you find a job! Rhode Island is small but beautiful, have you ever seen the ocean? The water gets so warm in the summer, we could go every weekend, whenever you want..."

She had imagined what life would be like in America, who hadn't in Europe? Especially as the dark days of war began to set in.

For a moment she allowed herself to imagine life with George; a small house on a quiet street, long summer days at the beach, floating in his arms while the warm water carried them. Her heart ached for this future, but she knew it could never be.

"George, I can't... I want to, but I can't."

She spoke quietly, as if it would hurt George less.

"Why not, Simone? Are you scared? I know it would be scary moving to a new country, but I'd be with you."

She could hear how strongly he clung to hope in his voice and it broke her heart.

She shook her head, "No, George-- it's not that. I know you'd be there for me and you'd be a great husband. I can't leave Belgium, not while it's in ruins. I have a duty to my people... I want to see Belgium rebuild itself, I want to help."

"Well what about after? What if you help for a year or two and then come to America?"

The desperation in his voice broke her heart even more.

"George, you can't put your life on hold for me... this war could be over next month, it could be over next year. I remember in '41 thinking it would be over by Christmas. I don't want you to spend your life waiting for me. I won't let you do that."

George was finally silent, and Simone felt both relief and unbearable sadness. She could see the tears welling in his eyes as he looked at her and she could feel her lower lip quiver as she tried so hard to not cry.

"Then is this goodbye, Simone? Is this it?"

She burst into tears and he pulled her close to him.

"I don't want it to be, George, I don't want to say goodbye. I can't say goodbye to you..."

"Hey, then... let's not say goodbye. This world is crazy and unexpected, we could meet again, right? So maybe we'll just say 'bye for now'? Or 'see you later'? How would you say it in French?"

Simone nodded into his chest and lifted her head to meet his eyes,

"A bientot..."

"A bientot, I like that..." he said with a small smile.

George kissed her then, a kiss that was long and bittersweet.

He held her again for a long moment, her head resting on his chest as she listened to his heartbeat, steady and strong.

"I have to go, Simone..." he whispered.

Simone took a deep breath to steady herself and stepped away. She took his hand and guided him to the door. He gave her a final kiss as they stood in the doorway, the cold wind reminding them of the world outside.

George stepped out the door and descended the steps slowly, as Simone watched with tears in her eyes.

He turned around and gave her a smile, "I'll be seeing you."

#george luz #george luz fanfic #george luz imagine #george luz x ofc #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #dick winters #bob

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pechesenboite · 1 year

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Music can transport you. For Shane Thomas, it transported her further than she ever imagined.

#personal #dick winter x ofc #lewis nixon x ofc #band of brothers #au

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ladyveronikawrites · 3 months

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WINTER STORM

30 Days of Bad Omens

PAIRING: Nicholas Ruffilo x Taylor (OFC)

KINK - Breeding Kink

SMUT PROMPT - "Relax angel" ; "Ruin me"

CW: breeding, established relationship, mentions of pregnancy, family planning, unprotected P in V sex, use of pet names, FLUFF, ITS CUTE OK

SUMMARY: Taylor spends the holidays with Nicholas and his familly in the cabin in the mountains. The pair get snowed in before his family arrives. Oh what will they do with all their time?!

Word Count: 2k

Crossposted - Wattpad / AO3

unbeta'd ✨

Story for my beloved @itsmrsfuentes 💜

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@dominuslunae @xxrainstorm @lyschko666 @kingdxmxfcxrds @the-ancient-fae

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Taylor looks out the large window and onto the balcony below. She shivers just thinking about how cold it must be outside in the Colorado mountains, snow-covered and shimmering against the morning sun. She sips her hot mocha savoring its chocolatey scent that warms her body.

“There’s my princess.” Nicholas’ voice is thick with sleep. The old wooden floors creak against his bare feet. He slows his breath so as not to startle her as she peers out into the cold beyond.

“It’s beautiful outside, just like you,” he mumbles against her hair as he wraps his arms around her waist.

Taylor hums in agreement imagining the dark winter storm that blazed through the mountainside last night; it’s amazing how howling winds and heavy snowfall could produce something so breathtakingly beautiful.

“Looks like we are going to be snowed in for a while,” he whispers against the shell of her ear before trailing kisses down her jaw and neck. “What could we possibly do with our time?” he sighs against her, snaking his hands up her shirt. “

Taylor's breath hitches when his hands graze over her breasts pulling her against his chest. Nicholas’ calloused fingertips begin to draw lazy circles over and around her perk nipples making her moan and grind her ass against him. Her beautiful sounds go straight to his dick.

Nicholas slips one hand from under her shirt to grab the mug from her hands. At the same time, he sets down the mug and twirls his girl around to face him. The small excited yelp from her pretty mouth sets his core ablaze. Grinning, he stares down at her breathtaking bright green eyes, etching each freckle decorating her skin to memory, silently hoping their kids will look just as gorgeous as she does one day. He takes her hands in his and squeezes them gently.

“This time of year has me feeling so sentimental… so thankful for you,” he starts, his throat tightening slightly with emotion. “We’ve been together for a few years now and I know my life has been crazy with touring and recording an album. But I want to settle down with you. You are my home Taylor and I want to have a family with you, whenever that may be.” Shy from his heartfelt confession, he tucks a loose strand behind his ear, waiting with bated breath for her response.

“Can we start no-” Her request is answered with a heated kiss. Sighing softly, Taylor tilts her head slightly to deepen the kiss, licking at his lower lip.

Nicholas chuckles. “Relax, angel we have all day.” He caresses her flush cheek as he gazes deeply into the eyes of the woman he loves.

She grins back at him before hoisting herself up on her tiptoes and wrapping her arms around his neck. Large hands slide down her side and grip at her waist. Taunting, she brushes her lips against his lips only to peck a kiss on the cheek. Giggling, she whispers in his ear, “I can tease too,” as she rakes her fingers through his scalp. Nicholas buries his head into the crook of her neck groaning as he decorates the delicate skin with little love bites. Taylor doesn’t let up as she tugs again.

Nicholas nuzzles her neck “Baby,” he warns before pressing a heated kiss to her jaw. She quickly relents with a defeated huff, returning her hands to his shoulders. “That’s it!” he chuckles lifting Taylor over his shoulder. She starts to protest but finds herself being dropped onto the green velvet sofa with Nicholas straddling her.

“Nicky I-” her voice erupts into giggles as he tickles her sides- the spot he knows will be her undoing. He laughs right with her, watching as she screws her eyes shut tight and throws her head back as the laughter consumes her. “Pl-ease,” Taylor gasps for air between breaths and hiccups. Instantly, Nicholas stops and leans back to give her space. “Sorry babe, you are just so cute when you laugh,” he snickers.

“It’s ok,” she rasps, her breath steadying as she sits upright. She scrubs her face with her hands before tying her hair up into a messy bun. She flashes Nicholas a mischievous grin before pouncing on him to tickle him back. She yelps when he rolls them over and onto the floor, grateful for the layers of blankets and pillows from the movie night before. He pushes himself up onto his hands to alleviate some of his weight from her chest.

His long hair tumbles over his shoulders as he stares down at her with a wicked grin, pupils blown wide like saucers. “Look what you started now.” He presses his hips against hers, his hard cock aching against his jeans. “Feel it, baby, that’s all because of you.”

Taylor’s breath catches when he grinds against her, his large size apparent in his skin-tight jeans. His sea-glass eyes turn stormy as he stares down, and before she can say something witty- full lips crash into hers, wet and desperate, just like the mess between her thighs. A soft moan escapes from her throat when he pries her lips apart with his tongue. She can’t get enough of him; his taste of mint and tobacco. Tilting her head slightly she deepens the kiss as she snakes her hands through his tousled hair. When she reaches her destination, she tugs his roots while biting his lower lip- “Fuck, I need you,” her boyfriend moans, his breath hot against her cheek. “I need to put a baby in you,” he growls lowly into her ear, making her skin tingle and pussy throb.

Taylor hesitates for just a second, before coming to terms with the wild and nerve-wrecking thoughts in her head. Has she thought about them having a family together, yes- they have talked about it countless times. Gone through the ‘what ifs’ and even crunched the numbers to see if they could afford this new chapter in their lives. She took a deep breath to silence the worry and when she looked at the love of her life again in the eyes, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she wanted to spend her life with him.

Empowered by confidence, Taylor shifted her hips to hook her leg over his. “Do it,” she says before positioning her weight to roll them over, getting on top.

She adjusts to sit lower on his torso, feet planted firmly on either side while her hands remain flat on his chest. Quick as a cat, she silences his question with a finger to his lips. His raised eyebrow gave him away instantly.

“Before you ask, yes I’m serious. I wouldn’t have said so if I hadn’t. Plus we’ve been talking about this for months now.” The hand on his lips moves to caress his cheeks. “We are happy and healthy what’s a better time than now?” A warm hand envelopes hers and he leans into the soft touch. A heat simmers in her belly as she leans down to plant a kiss on her lover’s lips. When he kisses her back, it's deep and passionate yet guarded– gentle.

She lets her body takeover- tossing away her sweater along with any lingering insecurity and doubt. Nicholas works quickly to unfasten her bra, casting it alongside the clothes on the floor. Before Taylor can lean down to continue ravishing her boyfriend, two tattooed hands press against her chest- stopping her.

“Get up.”

The quiet demand turns her core molten and Taylor is quick to obey. Before he asks, she sheds the other layers of clothing just as he does the same. Suddenly, a chill spider crawls up her spine so she turns to face the lit fireplace, finding solace in its heat. She glances over at the family Christmas tree adorned with lights and ornaments. Dreams of their first child’s Christmas morning flash through her head and her heart flutters.

“Come here, princess,” his soft voice calls to her. When she turns, she finds Nicholas sitting surrounded by pillows, propped against the bottom of the sofa. “Here,” he instructs, patting his thigh.

Her eyes scan his large erect cock and her throat tightens slightly. They have fucked and made love and everything else under the sun, but this moment feels different. This moment is different- it means so much more. There’s a weight to it, not a pressure but rather a comfort. She trusts Nicholas wholeheartedly and she knows he trusts her too.

Slowly, she makes her way to him- teasing as she juts her hips with every purposeful step. When she goes to straddle him, he stops her with a pat on the thigh.

“Turn around, darling.” Taylor’s thoughts begin to swirl as she turns away from him and then-

“That’s right,” is all Nicholas gives her as she stares at herself in a full-length mirror draped with twinkling lights.

Slowly, she positions herself over him-watching Nicholas’ expression in the mirror with bated breath. He notices her hesitation as she hovers above him so he puts pillows around her legs for support and grips her hips to steady her. “That’s it, pretty girl, you are doing so good.” His praise makes her pussy wall flutter with anticipation as she sinks lower, keeping her gaze locked on him. He throws back his head and groans as her slick walls lure him in.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” At this point, his words come out breathless and whiny. She feels so full… of him, yet she still needs more. “So good,” he repeats between tender kisses to her shoulder blades. A soft giggle tumbles from her lips as he brushes his nose over her spine. When she opens her eyes, she finally sees the way he makes her feel; cheeks flush and bitten lips. Taylor catches Nicholas staring and she follows his path- straight to where they connect.

“We fit perfectly together,” he purrs peering up at her in the mirror. “Ready for more?” All she can muster is a nod before planting her feet firmly on the ground. It’s slow at first, the way they move in tandem; her rocking her hips and him thrusting into her. Nicholas digs his nails into her hips, the sharp and quick pain urges her faster.

“God, Nick I’m close -please,” she whimpers. He knows exactly what she needs as he snakes his hand to her front, separating her lower lips with his fingers before reaching the sensitive bud. With one quick swipe of his finger, her eyes shut tight and her head falls back onto his chest.

And suddenly, it all stops. Taylor lets out a whine as the sensations start to dissipate. “Eyes on me, doll.” Her eyelids flutter open in response and quickly finds his primal gaze. “Good.” The only reassurance she gets before he continues his relentless pursuit of pleasure. The sound of skin slapping and ragged breathing fills her ears as the coil tightens in her core. Her legs start to tense as the pressure builds between her thighs.

“That’s it, mama, ruin me-”

“Oh shit,” she whines, baring down on him as she drenches him with her release. “Fill me, Nicholas,” she pleads as he releases rope after rope of his seed inside her.

Sighing, she lets her tired body fall against his warm chest, legs falling limp to the side. As her eyelids flutter closed, she basks in Nicholas’ body heat that comforts her as her heartbeat steadies. “You look gorgeous in the afterglow, little mama,” he whispers the new nickname in her ear. It makes her tummy flip with delight.

Nicholas wraps his arms around her tummy watching as it expands with every breath she takes. Taylor looks down at where his hands meet by her belly button and she smiles imagining a little baby bump.

“Soon my hands won't be able to fit like this,” he says before kissing her cheek.

“It can’t wait,” Taylor beams, resting her hands on his.

#bad omens #bad omens band #nicholas ruffilo #bad omens fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #nicholas ruffilo fanfic #nicholas ruffilo fic #nicholas ruffilo smut #bad omens rpf #nicholas ruffilo rpf #nicholas ruffilo x ofc #cw: breeding kink #ladyveronikawrites

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bellewintersroe · 10 days

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Okay this is part 2 from this anon request, which one of my lovely followers asked if I could do in the comments @beautifulbluejay <3

Easy Boys x Reader Headcanons - How They React To You Going MIA.

It happened just before his leave to Paris, in fact the reason Nix pushes his leave so hard is because everybody genuinely thought you had gone.

So the trip to Paris isn’t exactly a leave for him, he’s alone and just thinking about you the whole time.

Grief stricken- nobody else knew about your relationship considering it was fraternisation, so he literally feels so alone.

This one’s a lil different- but you’d be completely lost and track Winters down in Paris, all you’d need to do is ask Lewis and he’d probs blabber mouth it to you- although he does think you’re a little crazy because you’ve just gone MIA in the middle of Europe for almost a week and now you’re wanting to travel to Paris.

Anyway you’d get to the correct place, despite having a slight cut on your forehead and grazed knees you’re physically fine- but you get caught up in a German hospital during your time lost and it’s mf scary. You’re so lucky you’re still alive.

You’d knock on the door (assuming it was his) and when he answers it he kinda cracks it open only slightly, and then rips the rest fully open and has a literal heart attack.

“Dick?!” Your voice cracks and you’re crashing into his chest before he can even fathom.

“You’re- you’re here- I?” He’s overwhelmed, wondering if he’s dreaming or not until his arms wrap tightly around you, feeling you cling onto dear life.

Once the shock has worn off and tears were shed Dick can’t let you go. He’s slightly dizzied with practically the shock of his life.

When you’re sleeping he keeps watching over you, checking you’re real.

He can’t do enough for you, gets you food water (ofc), checks over any wounds you have, really talks to you about it- like Dick out of all the men seems extremely emotionally intelligent, so he wants to make sure you’re really okay.

“Just tell me and I can send you somewhere safer…”

“I’d rather just be where you are.”

Lewis Nixon:

After he was supposed to jump into Berlin and he only just made it out of the plane, he turned up to see the explosion right before his eyes. The Germans were shooting down the planes- including the ones he knew you alongside so many other flight nurses and young men were on.

Not only had it gone terribly- now his trauma of knowing you’re potentially gone makes everything 10x harder.

He’d not been able to see you much throughout the war, you’re often stationed in different areas, but he always worried about you, and just then he was so close to you, yet still so far away- it pained Lewis.

Replays the moment over and over again in his head, drinks more and more and as the days pass and he receives no letter from you or your company or family- he knows the worst is coming.

Asks Dick if he should write a letter for your family- he was there after all. Dick informs him it’s probably best to wait until he’s found out what’s really happened to you.

But the silence was screaming at him- and every time be see’s a nurse in a uniform near him he grows restless.

He’s walking near the hospital one day, where he knows hundreds of the prisoners from the camp are being treated. He watches from afar as dozens more of them pile out of trucks and vans, some of them unable to walk- the rest of them still being treated inside the walls of the camp.

He turns away when he see’s the nurses, feeling overwhelmed by the grief until he hears a quick, “Lewis!”

He turns around so quick, dropping his cigarette when he’s stunned by the sound of your voice.

Seconds later you’re running towards him, grinning and giggling. He feels his chest squeeze tighter and he’s practically scurrying towards your direction to embrace you in the biggest hug of his lifetime.

Holy fuck. Lewis thinks. Holy fuck, fuck, fuck. Thank god.

His eyes close and he squeezes you tighter, hand pressing to the back of your head as he attempts to calm himself down whilst you cling onto him.

He very quickly pulls you towards his lips, kissing you deeply, so needily, he doesn’t care who see’s.

Both of you keep talking over the top of one another, excited to be in each others presence again.

“But I thought your plane went down?!” Lewis doesn’t notice until you hold his hands that he’s shaking.

“No, we turned back miles ago, it was too dangerous- oh I’m so glad you’re okay, I didn’t know what happened to you.”

The feeling is mutual, and even if you only get a night to spend together Lewis makes it all worthwhile.

Ron Speirs:

This man is tense asf from the second anything happens.

“What happened to the nurses?” His voice is quiet yet sharp and quick. His hand grabs at Nixon’s arm, urging him to answer immediately.

“Uh, I don’t know. They were in the hospital that got bombed, we’re not sure.” Lewis sighs out slowly, clearly affected by the trauma, but he has no idea about Ron and you.

Ron takes it upon himself to literally do anything he can in his power to find you- ofc he’s worried about everybody else, but the two of you have been together in private way back since before you were deployed. His hearts in his chest.

“We got them all sir, but one.”

“Y/l/n. Where’s Y/l/n?” He attempts to keep cool but his heart is thumping, he has the worst sickness and he can barely hold back how he’s feeling.

The man pauses and shakes his head. “Don’t know, sir.”

The whole company is obviously in grieving, this is when he’s still part of D-company but he’s in misery- he breaks only when he’s alone and in front of the men he keeps an even more tough exterior than ever.

Truthfully he’s hard to be around, he tries to push you to the back of his mind, trying his best to accept you’re gone and that’s it but he can’t.

He’s in the infirmary one day, after literally being shot in the ass- he almost can’t believe what’s going on and refuses to believe it’s true. Ron for the first time feels weak and useless.

“Can somebody help?! Please!” A frantic calling from a more than familiar voice cries out as he’s laid on his side in the bed, curtains closed around his area.

This is the first thing that causes him to move. Ignoring all soreness (he probs just blocks out the pain) he crawls out of bed at the sounds of scurrying and desperate shouting of the medical staff.

Ron could’ve sworn that was your voice, and when he stands, opening the curtains and staring straight at you, he thinks he’s seen a ghost.

He mutters your name so quietly, but you look up, face dirty and slightly bruised and bloodied, uniform dusty with a GI woollen jumper hanging over your frame. Like you’re just looking at each other.

“Excuse me, please.” You’d just tell the medical staff, hurrying your way down the hospital, weaving passed people until you’re stepping closer and closer.

Ron’s breathing and heart increases in a state of shock and you nudge him back in, yanking the curtain shut before you just engulf one another in a hug.

“Ron.” You’d mutter through tears, he grips you even tighter, engulfing your smaller body. “I was so scared, Ron.”

He pulls back your face, his eyes wide and stunned before holding either side of your face and pulling you in for a deep, borderline desperate kiss.

It’s the best comfort either of you have had in days, and once your lips part you fall back into his arms.

He’s probably lost for words for the first few minutes, and he’ll become all teary eyes for the first time in front of you.

“Are you okay? What happened to you?” He speaks for the first time, checking over you worriedly after remembering you must’ve been in that shelled out hospital

“There was Germans… I took a patient and ran away in the bombings. We got lost- we only just got back here now. I don’t know if he’s okay or not.”

All he can do is comfort you and hold you close, still in a state of disbelief.

“Why-why are you in here? What’s wrong?” You’d eventually ask. “I was shot.” Ron spoke in a blasé manner. He didn’t care about himself, only you.

“Where?”

… “my ass.”

Babe Heffron:

Hear me out, you’re a little bit clumsy yet always careful with everybody’s life but seemingly your own?

Like you’ve been at war for 8 months or so and still Babe worries that you’ve stumbled onto enemy lines just because you went to find a man’s boots or something.

He looks out for you and takes care of you so much, like it’s so so sweet and everybody’s aware that you’re Babe’s girl, even if you keep it more or less hidden out of respect for the fraternisation rules.

Anyway, you’re assigned to second platoon & that’s how you and Babe got close initially, the second nurse was sadly lost, and ever since then in Bastogne, Babe has been extra worried that something might happen to you.

It’s the day after Jackson passed and everybody’s exhausted, even though they’ll be moving off the line, they’re all sick of war.

“Hey anybody seen y/n?” He’d glance around the room where she’d usually be hanging out when she wasn’t at the aid station.

“She’s not at the aid station?” Joe would ask.

“No.” Babe would frown, pushing himself up and heading out.

He tries not to panic at first, but admittingly he has an anxiety nibbling away at the back of his mind.

Something just feels off, you’re not at CP, at the infirmary, with the other nurses, where you’re billeted.

“Babe!” One of the nurses shrieks in surprise as he bursts into the house they were stationed in.

“Sorry, sorry. Anybody seen y/n?” None of them have, not since the early afternoon and it was nearing 6. Your duty ended three hours ago.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

(Okay this isn’t as extreme as some of the other cases, I wanted to change it up a bit)

20 minutes later he’s chain smoking like crazy, asking all the guys where the hell you were.

“Babe? What’re you yapping about?” Your voice appears, giggling as he snaps his head, almost doing a 360.

At first relief floods through him, but then he see’s your helping a limping soldier, bleeding just below your eyebrow.

“Jesus- what the hell?!” His voice raised, breath stuck in his chest.

“A little help here, Babe?”

After hooking up under the other side of the wounded back, he helps you both back to the aid station firing questions a million miles an hour in your direction.

“I’m fine, Babe.” You’d soothe. “What happened?! Where th’ hell were ya?!” He’d take both your shoulders, holding his hand over the cut on your forehead, in an attempt to apply pressure.

“Babe-” you’d swat his hand away, becoming distracted with the sight behind you. Clearly you didn’t realise how worried he was.

“Ya shouldn’t run off like that!”

“Babe-”

“Ya got me worried sick!”

“Edward! His leg is crushed! Let me go help!”

“Edward?!”

“Wait here, alright? I’ll be 10 minutes.”

Babe waits, watching you help some of the other nurses and medics with the man you both carried inside, tending to what looked to be a badly wounded leg. He grimaced and turned away, growing an even more profound respect for you (if that was even possible).

When you’re done you head straight back to him. “Sorry, Babe, his leg was so-” You go to hold his arm but instead he turns, engulfing you in a bone crushing hug.

“I thought I’d lost ya, never do that again.”

Finally, you’d silence and realise just how worried he was. He was border lining upset, his frustration had dissolved and turned into pure relief.

“I’m okay.” You’d whisper, leading him to the quieter area of the porch.

“Where were ya?” He’d glance over you, checking head to toe everything was okay, hands still on your forearms.

“I went to get some supplies, then I found him- his leg was stuck under rubble. I couldn’t just leave him.”

“What ‘bout ya head?”

“I knocked myself in the face, you know what I’m like.”

“Oh thank god, ya scared me, angel.”

Ugh he’s such a sweetheart, just apologise to him and promise you won’t do that again without telling him.

#band of brothers x reader #band of brothers #ron speirs x reader #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers headcanons #dick winters x reader #lewis nixon x reader #babe heffron x reader

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rabbitsrams · 9 months

Note

I LOVE INEXPERIENCED JSHLATT X READER

ME TOO ANONIE ME TOO <3 as a treat have some more <3

nsfw under the cut, minors dni!! 18+ only.

okay okay wait because i wanna talk about him missing you SO much during winter break.

like you're both back home for the holidays so naturally you can't really see each other as much as you'd like to. (especially if you live in a different state, you're f a r.)

his hand can't do justice for your hand or mouth or hole. he can't wait to go back to school so he can have you.

your snapchat usage goes up during this break because you send each other nudes like all the time. and you're sexting a ton too ofc.

sneaking away during family gatherings so you can rub one out cuz he sent you another video of him stroking his cock. cuz god damn, you can't get enough of him either.

you got some money from family for the holidays so you decide to get a dildo (making sure it's as close to his d as possible hehe). you've never used one before, only using a vibrator on your clit. so you call schlatt to show you using it for the first time.

and lord help this poor man. you riding the dildo, screaming his name as you do, pretending it's his cock. he's never cum faster. he took SO many screenshots of you for later ohhhh god.

speaking of calls, yeah there's a lot of phone sex :) you lock your door and make sure everyone's asleep before you video call him. oftentimes when he answers the camera is pointed at his dick and 99% of the time he's already stroking himself. damn.

and of course once you're back on campus you're all over each other, constantly saying how much you missed each other while you tear each other's clothes off. and you're so happy that your roommate isn't coming back until later that night.

#jschlatt x reader #jschlatt fanfiction #jschlatt imagine #jschlatt x y/n #jschlatt x you #jschlatt smut #schlatt smut #schlatt x reader #schlatt x you

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bloodstainedsaint · 6 months

Text

things better left unsaid. (dick winters x nurse! reader)

summary: you find out that perhaps war is not the best time for romance. (written as two letters from the two of you)

word count: 1650+

warnings: sappiness, angst of the pining variety, breakup(?), and ofc mentions of war

notes: any feedback would be appreciated 🫶, also inspired by @currahee's post about dick's "completely platonic" female penpal. since i've never read the letters between him and that woman myself, i took one line and ran with it

Letters written two days before D-Day. Though they were never meant to, both letters accidentally, and in no way aided by nurses and Easy Company men (specifically a man named Lewis Nixon) alike, make their way to their receiver.

Dear Dick,

I still remember the day you came into the base's hospital, looking for one of your men who’d been injured during a field exercise. You had made it difficult to pay attention to the soldier I was treating, asking like a concerned father if he would be alright. Not to mention your flaming red hair out of the corner of my eye.

Noting stupidly in the back of my mind the entrancing blue-green shade of your eyes, I had smiled and told you he would make a quick recovery. You’d returned my smile and said you'd be back to check on him. Like some silly schoolgirl, I had secretly looked forward to the return of this tall, attractive man.

Over the course of your several returns, we’d talked about ourselves while your private slept. Our easy conversations concerned simple topics, like where we came from, what we did before the war, and what we would do after it was over—though the fighting had yet to truly begin for us. There was a rumor going around base that you were a Quaker; lucky me, I found out you weren't before everyone else did.

There weren't many injuries at that time, and I guess you'd decided to stick around to watch your soldier recover. I was grateful for your company, as you were unlike a lot of the men I had encountered working here: flirty, overconfident, vulgar, you know the like. You were reserved and gentlemanly, with a small smile that I could tell you didn't show many others and a dry sense of humor. I suppose your humble beginnings in Pennsylvania had shaped you into a humble man.

Even after your soldier was released from the hospital, you came to visit me. I wasn’t sure why, and still am not today. You were a busy man after all—why spend time with a random, dime-a-dozen nurse? I wasn't complaining, though; like the fool I am, I had already began catching feelings for you, which I was sure were unreciprocated. You were probably just being respectful, I reasoned when I found my mind was full of thoughts of you, someone so upstanding wouldn't risk a relationship in times like these. If only I knew I was right. I wouldn't have bothered staying up at night overthinking every little thing you did.

During your free time, you would help me treat other patients, keep stock, move boxes, routine things like that. Over time your visits grew in frequency; so much so that your men had started teasing you whenever they saw you enter — sneak away to, rather — the nurse’s facility. I missed your company when you couldn't come visit, when arduous training took up too much of your time.

Fortunately for me, we started meeting while I was off-duty. Not surrounded by dozens of men, these stolen moments proved to be much more intimate. Taking walks around the base during the early morning before anyone else had risen or late at night when the base was fast-asleep was one of my favorite past times with you. You'd walk me to my small living quarters and offer me your jacket if it was cold, tell me about the seemingly universally hated Captain Sobel and how your men were doing. Sometimes our hands would brush, and I would feel my cheeks get warmer despite the biting cold. I could've sworn I saw your cheeks redden as well as your eyes snapped to our hands and just as quickly were averted.

Winter was coming to an end, and as the planned date for the Normandy invasion came closer, nerves were rising all around base. One mild evening, after a week of not being able to visit, you confided to me your concerns about the war. I boldly, brazenly, took your hands in mine and reassured you that everything would work out in the end. Holding my breath, we stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like a lifetime before you tentatively leaned your head down and kissed me. That was the first time I’d ever seen you unsure of yourself. My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest; what if we got caught? What would they do to us, to you, after everything you'd gone through? But at that moment, time slowed down. Nothing mattered. It was just you and me, my hands in yours, and your lips on mine.

After our kiss, your visits started becoming more sporadic, until days without you stretched into weeks of silence. Do you know how much I longed to hear your calm, steady voice during a busy day, to watch the dew on the grass in the morning with you, to feel the warmth of your presence next to me as the stars twinkled in the sky? Eventually, I resolved to pull you away somewhere private the next time I saw you and give you a piece of my mind.

And so I did. As soon as I saw your tall figure, I took you behind the hospital and confessed everything I was feeling towards you: the hurt, the bitterness, the betrayal, the love. Irritatingly composed, you firmly told me that you had no time for such frivolities in war. As the words left your lips, I felt my heart shatter into a million different pieces and settle like glass in my gut. I told you, my voice not even sounding like my own, “if that's what you want,” and I entered the hospital again.

It's been a week since then, and two days before you drop into Normandy. And though you'll never read this, I yearn ask you: is that what I was all along? Some distraction that you entertained before I had to be pushed aside? I would've waited for you to come back to me after the war, would've waited for a better time. Is this it for us?

Although it pains me to say that I still love you, it seems that some things are better left unsaid.

Sincerely, (Y/N)

Dear (Y/N),

It’s now two days before our drop into Normandy. Much has happened to Easy Company since Toccoa. Much has happened between you and I since we met here in England, while you were treating one of my men.

I never regarded you as a potential suitor; I couldn't do that to you. Knowing that in a few months time we would be parachuting into France, I was reluctant to develop things any further. As it stood, I had already taken an unprofessional liking to you since that day we met in the base's hospital. Our following conversations certainly did not help the matter. Starting a relationship would have jeopardized my men and myself. I had to focus on running the company, and when we got deployed, I knew having a sweetheart back somewhere safe would have fogged my mind and gotten me or someone else killed.

Yet in spite of my reservations, I got ahead of myself and began spending more and more time with you. Though it was never explicitly confirmed between the two of us, and though we never said it, many would have considered us dating. We both knew what we were doing. For a while, and with the encouragement of Nixon, I relished being with you, taking you out every morning and night, assisting you with your tasks for the day. It was nice to get away from the duty of watching over my men and focus on the person I adored.

In the spring, as the day of the invasion loomed ahead of us, things were ramping up. I couldn't see you as often as I used to or would've liked to. The day I could ended up being the day we kissed, when things changed irrevocably between us. I wasn’t acting like myself that day; I let my feelings get in the way. When I stared into your eyes, I saw a lifetime with you, and without meaning to and without much due thought, I leaned down and pressed my lips to yours. From that day on, I knew I couldn't let this continue.

I needed space from you after that, before I went careening into the uncharted territory that is romance. It pained me to avoid you, but it was for the best: I'm a ranking officer, and you're a ranking nurse. Being caught fraternizing puts us both at risk.

But more importantly, it wasn't fair to you, my men, or myself. Easy Company needs a levelheaded leader. If I were to panic in the midst of enemy fire thinking about getting back to a lover, I'd be letting them and myself down. And the thought of you receiving a letter informing you of my death is something I could never forgive myself for.

I said as much when I told you I had no time for such frivolities in war. You didn't deserve that. I'll never forget the hurt that flashed across your face. I see it every day, reflected in the morning dew on the grass and in the stars at night. In everything I used to enjoy with you.

Nixon has since convinced me to rethink my decision to break things off. Nix is a very persistent man, you could guess. I don't think two days is enough to mend what is irreparable. But I can start with a letter I'll never send, so that if the Lord allows us to meet again, I can tell you this personally:

There may not be time for frivolities in war. But when the war ends, there will be time enough for you.

Sincerely, Richard Winters

#band of brothers #dick winters #band of brothers fanfic #dick winters x reader #hbo war #richard winters #richard winters x reader #hbo war fanfic #101st airborne #easy company #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #lewis nixon #i love winters so much

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ithinkabouttzu · 11 months

Note

May I request band of brothers x reader and reader falling asleep on them?

Yes ofc thank you for your request my beloved! 💗

BoB reaction to you falling asleep on them

genre: Romance; fluff

warnings: none

Description: BoB reaction to their s/o (you) falling asleep on them for the first time

Dick Winters

Okay so I think he would he shocked at first seeing you lay your head right on his chest with ease., “What are they doing?” Is what he’s probably thinking in his head, once he finally hears your soft snores, then he’d notice that you’ve fallen asleep on him. He’s smile softly to himself, making sure to be extra quiet and careful not to wake you up. Honestly he’d be a little blushy at first too, just happy that you feel comfortable enough to fall asleep on him

Lewis Nixon

His breathing would just stop at first when you lay your head on his shoulder. Like omg? You got this man over here getting nervoussss when you do that. Like you got him scared to even move an inch. He’d even try slowing down his breathing because he didn’t want to wake you up. He’d be so sweet about it, he’d hold you in his arms and stroke your hair softly. I could also seeing him getting sleepy and falling asleep on you :,)

Carwood Lipton

He is so cute about it, he’d ask you if you’re alright, not realizing how tired you were. Once he realized you had fallen asleep on him his heart literally melted omg. And you better get that he was still as stone when you were sleeping, bc you’re his bae and you deserve a good sleep in his arms. He’d hold you so softly and feeling of your head on him would make him just content. He’d definitely fall asleep to just holding you so comfortably.

Joe Toye

A huge smile appears on his face when he sees you laying your head on him. He’s tries to play it off all chill but he’s lowkey so excited on the inside. He would wrap an arm around you and keep you secure, making sure that if anyone came by that they were quiet, and ofc making sure he was quiet himself. The cutest thing of all though is how sweet he is to you when you wake up from your short nap. “How are you pretty thing? Ya sleep okay?” UGH he’d be so cute about it. I think you just falling asleep on him would be his favorite thing about y’all’s relationship.

Joe Liebgott

Freezes in his spot when he sees you laying your head on him. “Are you okay?” He’d say, Looking at your face he would see how exhausted you looked and maybe thought that you weren’t feeling good or something was wrong. When you told him that you were just sleepy, and that’s why, he would be so sweet. Honestly he would’ve gotten so happy hearing that’s why you were laying on him. Asking you if you want his jacket or something he has for you to warm up in. Resting on him would be one of the most comfiest things ever. Plus he’d be rubbing your arms up and down, hugging you super tight and warm.

Bill Guarnere

A big ole smirk would come up on his face so quickly. “get comfy, doll” He would rub his arms down back and forth on your arm, keeping a tight grip on your body. He would be so warm and comfortable to fall asleep on, he would try and keep quiet the whole time, especially when he heard you snoring. I think he would really enjoy you taking a nap on him (LOL) , He would end up getting so sleepy, he’d try fighting it off at first but he’d end up giving up after seeing how comfortable you were in his arms.

George Luz

Oh boy, he’s a total angel about the whole thing, when he sees you lay your head on you it makes his heart beat 2x faster then it’s original pace like omg. If you look up at him, all you will see on his face is that huge bright smile of his staring back at you. On the outside he’d try to keep it cool, and not make too much of a scene, but in the inside he was literally FREAKING out, like he is totally frozen in his position because he would feel absolutely horrible to accidentally wake you up. I think he would stroke your hair really nicely, helping you go to sleep with his calming touch almost immediately.

Bull Randleman

Ugh he’s honestly the best person to fall asleep on after a long day. He’d be so nice about it, at first he’d ask you if you were okay, “Are you alright. darlin’?” and you’d reply back just saying you were sleepy or something like that, and he’d say, “Come er’ get some sleep, princess/prince” He’d hold you super soft and would be a total snuggle bug. You made his day just holding onto him tightly while sleeping. he’d be a little nervous at first, because he didn’t want to accidentally hurt you or wake you at first, He would just watch you, admiring you and seeing how beautiful you truly are. He’s just so happy he gets to be around you, you make him so happy.

Eugene Roe

He’s having an internal breakdown when you just lay your head on him, you got him freaking out on the inside for real. He wouldn’t say anything to you about it though, he would just try his hardest to be natural, and he’d lean into you too, holding you by your shoulder and rubbing it slowly. He was nervous you could hear his heartbeat thumping out of his chest at first. But he still tried his best to be normal, and not make you uncomfortable in any way. Laying on him you’d almost fall asleep like immediately, there’s just something so warming about him, you just feel safe enough to sleep in his arms. While your sleeping, he thinks you look absolutely adorable. He’s ultimately glad that he’s with you right now.

Floyd Talbert

He is actually giggling on the inside like a little girl omg, also when you lay on him it’s just an ego booster, like out of all people, your laying on him, he definitely feels lucky, even though he knows his way around the ladies, all of that smoothness goes out the window with you. He just feels so happy when you lay on him comfortably, when he hears you snoring lightly, he can’t help but let out a small laugh and a huge smile. He just feels so nice with you laying on him, you are his favorite person ever.

Skip Muck

Okay so, I think he would be so so excited to be hanging out with you in general, so can you just imagine the look on his face when he sees you laying your head on his chest. Like his heart is ready to burst at any moment, don’t even get me started. I think he’d be so nervous to move, just because he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable at all. He realizes that your sleeping when he hears your soft snores for the first time. He thinks you sound so so cute, like he falls in love with you a million times more when he hears that. Ugh he’s just so obsessed with you.

Don Malarkey

This sweet boy is more than happy for you to lay down on him. You’re sleepy? Well of course, lay down. His heart rate would go up by a bunch when you put your head on him, He can’t lie though, you feel so comfortable. I think he’d end up falling asleep first though and it’d be so cute, you’d look up to see him just snoring and he was passed out LOL, It’s just that he is so comfortable around you that he can fall asleep so easily, he doesn’t know why but he just does, oh and, something else that is absolutely adorable, is how even though he’s asleep, he will still stroke you hair so softly, just because he finds it so comforting holding you.

Babe Heffron

He is so happy when he sees you lay down on him, like his smile gets so big and his heart rate starts beating faster and faster. He would be so excited but nervous while you lay on him, he doesn’t want to disturb you or something that would make you get up, once he starts getting more comfortable with you laying on him, he’d wrap his arms around you and just hug you there, he’s super super sweet when you are laying down. And when he hears you snoring, ugh he thinks you are even cuter, he’d hold you for the rest of the time, just giving your the best forehead kisses and whispering the sweetest little things in your ear while you were asleep. “You’re my favorite, you know that right?”

Shifty Powers

Oh my, this sweethearts face would get so red when he sees you just laying down ask getting comfortable on his chest. He was honestly scared you could hear his heart beating because it was going so fast. He would timidly out his hand on your back and hold you gently. Honestly he’s the most comfortable person you could ever sleep with, Like just relaxing with him will make you instantly fall asleep. He’s so sweet the whole time, just rubbing your back and hugging in the best way ever. When he sees that your sleeping a huge smile appears on his face, he is in absolute awe of your beauty and he just loves you so much.

Frank Perconte

When he sees you laying down on his shoulder his body just rushes with love omg. He would be a little nervous at first but I think after awhile he would out of instinct just wrap his arms around you and hold you close, and in reaction to that I think he’d get really sleepy, like he’d be trying to fight sleep the whole time, just because he didn’t want to be rude. But when calls your name and you don’t answer back, He would look at you and see that you’re sleeping. He would he admiring you so hard, just thinking to himself how cute you are in his arms, before he finally fell asleep himself.

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latibvles · 1 year

Text

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON).

I have ... no explanation for this. this is technically a "three times dick thought Charlie was beautiful, and one time he said it" which also meets ... boxer! Charlie x former boxer! Dick universe. And it's in 90s New York for the visuals. And Harry is a boxing trainer. I don't know what happened here but I like it. Yes I know her main fic isn't even published. Everyone stop looking at me like that. I am also now well-acquainted with boxer jargon I otherwise would not have known.

Just one match, Harry bargained, just one and I’ll leave you alone.

So here Dick sat, as close to the ring as Nixon money could buy, the man sat right next to him, and the final round’s timer shaving down precious seconds.

This girl, “Chuckles” as Harry calls her, is light on her feet and hard to keep track of. Her shaggy black crop falls into her eyes and he can’t get a good look at her face as she hops from one foot to the other, bobbing and weaving with almost dancer-like grace.

It’s a little hypnotizing.

It’s either gonna be a knockout, or she’s gonna run this clock down.

Parry, cross, feint, corkscrew — it’s dizzying trying to keep up with her. There’s no pattern to it, but somehow she maintains a rhythm that he can’t hear. The crowd around them is in an uproar, the only thing he can hear is cheering and heckling in his ears. Across the ring, Harry’s face is lit up with the same fire he’s had since they were in the ring themselves. Dick’s own heart is pounding a little harder.

Her head snaps to the right as her opponent lands a decisive blow to her cheek. She stumbles, knocked off her balance, and takes another blow to the opposing cheek.

Dick holds his breath.

Lead right.

Another uproar, Harry shouting something unintelligible, drowned out by the din of the people around them. She shifts her weight. She winds up the fist.

Haymaker.

It’s a decisive, heavy, sharp blow to her opponent’s jaw that almost sends the other woman spinning. She stumbles, then crumples to the floor.

It’s the longest eight count Dick’s ever seen. Then the ring of the bell, cheering, and “Chuckles” turns around to face them entirely, face him, as the other woman is brought to her feet, and moved to a seat on the outside of the ring. Harry quickly slides in to grab her wrist and thrust it upright with a smile.

She pops out the mouth guard, with the free hand, looks out with a wicked grin — all bloody teeth and sweat and pointy canines. There’s a cut on her swelling cheek, dark hair sticking to her forehead, chest rising and falling as she takes labored breaths. Pride oozes from those red-stained lips, and now that he’s got a better look at her face he sees that fire in her eyes. It stirs something in him and he feels a flush creeping up his neck like he’s just gone the distance himself.

She wears that pride and those bruises like a starlet’s gown — and it looks gorgeous on her.

II.

The rain casts a hazy glow on the street outside, and makes this diner that much warmer in comparison. He watches for a moment, lip twitching into a grin as she dunks a fry into the Oreo shake. Feeling his eyes, she looks up and raises a brow.

“See something you like?”

And he could say a lot of things to that. The burger in front of him. The coke and fries. The rain droplets clinging to her hoodie (and in that respect, the hoodie itself, how cozy it looks, how it almost swallows her frame, and the bright red RICHMOND on the front).

Instead, he gestures to the fry.

“You get that one from Harry?”

“He’s persuasive when he wants to be.”

There’s a fond annoyance to the way she says it, coupled with an eye roll and a ghost of the smirk she always wears, be it for self-gratification or pride or the secret third thing Dick hasn’t been able to discern yet. Dick chuckles a little, bowing his head for a moment to take a bite out of his own burger, watching through his lashes and trying not to grin as she plucks pickles from her own with a look like they’d just insulted her.

Evidently, he fails at that.

“Winters, whatever pickle-related remark you’re about to make, I’d keep it to myself if I were you.”

“I didn’t have any remark. Should I?” he tries, teasing. But Dick watches as Charlie’s smile drops immediately, her face becoming deathly serious.

“Pickles took out my mother, Dick.” The way she says it, with no room for laughter, knocks him off his own balance. He stares at her, lips parted, in the midst of confusion and trying to discern if this is a joke or not.

“You’re messing with me.” He throws back, and the corner of her lip twitches as she tries to maintain that serious expression. But it cracks and Charlie ducks her head as she snorts.

“Caught me — but if I wasn’t you wouldn’t be living that one down, so we’re clear.” Dick rolls his eyes. When she looks back up the smile is softer, less challenging — he doesn’t know this expression of hers very well. Amusement brimming at the surface, but softer edges, less deprecating, more playful like a kid who might’ve told a knock-knock joke.

Her smile’s pretty, even when she’s not baring her teeth.

“Of course I wouldn’t.” is what he settles on, with another fond roll of his eyes.

III.

Dick has half a mind to turn back.

He doesn’t know when, during his visit, that he became Harry’s stand-in but he suspects it had something to do with last week, when Harry came back, and when his eyes lingered on Charlie for a moment too long at the gym and his smile grew and Harry, ever the perceptive one, refused to let him live it down.

Well I already told her you were coming, Harry defended, and it’s just a cabinet, Dick.

One day, he and Harry will sit down and have a chat about his friend volunteering him for things, but that’s a discussion for a later time.

The sweet old lady two doors down directed him here, to the right apartment number, and outwardly wondered about “Charlotte never mentioning a boyfriend,” to which Dick had to speedily correct her.

Now he’s staring at the door with the peeling paint and the peephole and the golden “6D” on the front, trying to surmise the courage to knock on the door, as if this is anything more than what it is. It’s just a cabinet, Dick, Harry’s voice is an annoyingly correct echo in his skull — and he wraps his knuckle on the door, cringing when he thinks it’s too heavy-handed.

There’s some shuffling, a hushed swear, and then the door opens, just enough to see the chain, and a pair of dark eyes meeting his.

“Oh! Dick just — give me a second,” The door slams, there’s a clicking of a lock, and then it opens again, Charlie in the doorway in a dark blue crewneck sweater and faded jeans. “Alright, come in. Pretend you don’t see the mess.”

He steps into the apartment, recognizing that scene from Dirty Dancing playing on the small TV, the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, and a handful of children’s toys littering the floor. Barbies with their clothes strewn about, a discarded teddy bear, and an unfinished game of Candyland — the blue gingerbread man is, evidently, the winner. Dick grins a little bit, looking over to her — and the way her cheeks almost seem to flush is a sight to see.

“Do I need to cover your eyes or something?” The thought of her hands on his face is… not an unwelcome one. Less in the light of covering his eyes, but a hand on his cheek, maybe. He gestures to the TV, to Patrick Swayze laid out on the floor.

“It’s Annie’s favorite scene.” He offers, and that gets a smile out of her.

“Should get her in contact with Hazel then. She has me watching this once a week,” She guides him into the kitchen, with the toolbox on the countertop, and sure enough, an old cabinet door with broken hinges. He looks back, at the flush returning to her cheeks. “I’d do it myself but…” she waves her hand, flippantly, at the two bandaged fingers that she’d ended up with after that heavy apartment door slammed on them.

She came to the gym fuming and Dick wrapped those fingers himself — they took a rain check on training, which she begrudgingly agreed to.

“I don’t mind.” Dick affirms, with what he hopes to be a reassuring smile. Charlie nods at that, leaning against the small table. She went through the work of buying new hinges and the right sized screws, it was just a matter of fixing it now. He’s a little grateful for his father’s refusal to ever call a repairman and his insistence on showing Dick how to do this stuff in his teens.

They lapse into comfortable silence — Charlie pours apple juice into mismatched cups. Real high-society stuff here, trust me, she drawls as she tucks the Motts bottle back into the fridge beside him. He’ll catch her staring every now and again, as she works around him with the sort of precision he can only assume comes from living in a seven-person household. Sometimes her gaze is on his arm, or his face, the screw he’s holding in his teeth, and they won’t say anything of it but her cheeks will flush scarlet and something in Dick will stir. He doesn’t know if it’s pride or nerves. He doesn’t care.

He… likes seeing her that way — the one blushing, instead of him. And the color is lovely when it’s dusted on her cheeks like that.

IV.

There’s a lot of things about New York that make his head spin.

The way people will scurry across crosswalks even during the greenlight, the impossible parking, the way she draws her curtains at night to keep the bright lights of the city out (and even then, cars will honk all through the night regardless). It’s busy and it’s loud and it’s nothing like rural Pennsylvania.

But there’s a welcomed quiet here, in her bathroom of all places. She’s propped up on the sink, one of his flannels tucked tastefully into faded jeans, her fingers grazing his skin. He swears this is the only place where his routines get disrupted, and one of the few places where he doesn’t actually mind it. So if he forgoes shaving a couple of times — getting her like this just makes it worth it.

She’s doing away with the beginnings of his beard in slow strokes, lips pulled into a pout, her fingers tilting his chin for a better look at what she’s doing.

Dick likes the feeling of her hands on his face. She likes knowing that her touch is still gentle — even with the scabbed knuckles and the callouses. It’s a win-win, really.

“So what’s the plan for today?” he asks, because she doesn’t hit the gym until six, and she has the day off today, too. She looks at him through her long dark lashes.

“Paulina wants to do ax-throwing in Brooklyn. She invited us — I think Alice might be going too, if you wanna give Lew some incentive. But Joe should be there anyways and if there’s Joe there’s gonna be Bill and so on and so forth,” Dick has to do his best not to shudder and break her concentration, but Charlie still snorts nonetheless. “It’s a birthday thing. Could be fun.”

“Can you guarantee I won’t get axed?” Dick poses, teasing.

“No but I can put a band-aid on it and kiss it better.”

“Mm. You may have to talk to Alby about that. He takes those Rugrats band-aids very seriously.”

At that, she pauses and laughs, tilting her head back for a moment and setting the razor to the side. Dick turns his half-shaven face to look at her — at the mark on her collarbone peaking just past his shirt, at the amused look in her eye, the smile stretching across her face. When she looks at him again, he reaches out to let his fingers graze the curve of her cheek.

“What is it?” She raises a brow at him, curious. Dick shakes his head.

“Nothing, just…” he lets his hand drop, leaning fully on the counter to bump their noses once. “You’re beautiful, y’know that?” It tumbles from his lips clumsily and unapologetically — he’s never been much of a smooth talker, but apparently it’s endearing.

Charlie smiles, and her face flushes, and it just further proves his point as she runs her hand down the shaved side of his face, and mutters a quiet thank you.

#dick winters x ofc #boxer au #. charlie sawyer #dick x charlie #I don’t know how we ended up here #but I do know one thing #that I am a simple girl with simple tastes #and if I get character a wrapping character b’s knuckles I’m folding #also shoutout silly sausage gc #this shaving scene was for THEM #au: so scarlet (it was maroon)

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redfoxwritesstuff · 9 days

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Sunflower, Book 1, Chapter 20

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: M Chapter warnings: We get a it pissy, Flashback- nudity, female nipples, A dick gets touched a wee bit. Edit: **Yes, I got the chapter number wrong again...Fixed it **

AN:It's getting hot in here! Chapter warning- Our flashback finally has both nipples and dicks. Well, a dick. Very short mention of light foreplay and dirty talk. The flashback isn't long enough to be of anything more than once again blueballing readers. How long do you think I can do this before you actually get to the smut?

On a little more serious note, Kit is struggling. I'm sorry for anything that comes from me that is more unhinged than is normal though at this point, more unhinged than is normal is becoming the normal.

Masterlist Kofi AO3

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

Mia woke warm and comfortable. It wasn’t how she usually woke. She tended to blast the AC at night or crack open the window during the winter. Anything to get it cold while she fell asleep. It was always something she regretted in the morning though when she had to drag herself from bed but the contrast of being warm and cozy under the blankets and the cold air in the room made for the best sleep.

This was something she could get used to, she decided as arms tightened around her. She had no business thinking that though. Tom traveled much for his career, even if they had managed to work out for real, how often would she get to wake up with him, tucked into his arms like this?

They didn’t fall asleep in this position. They never did. More often than not in their short time together, she went to bed before Tom did. He often had late night calls and business to attend to thanks to the time difference but every morning she had woken in his arms and slipped herself free.

Their life was quickly setting into a weird sense of normal. It was happening faster than she had been prepared for. They were strangers, friends and spouses all at the same time, changing with the fleeting moments. It felt like they were strangers less and less though.

Mia would wake up too early and make breakfast for her and Sally. Tom would wake shortly after and go down to the complex gym where he would run. Running was something Mia never really seemed to enjoy but Tom would spend quite some time running every morning.

He needed to stay fit for his next project, he had told her. Running was something he enjoyed regardless but for his character he needed to be lean and fit. It was far easier for him to maintain the physique rather than let it slip and have to play physical catch up.

Pinching at her belly, Mia knew it wouldn’t hurt her to join him. She could stand to drop some weight. It was just a matter of time before she was face to face with how horrible people can be when talking about women’s bodies. If she had a flat stomach, maybe they would have less to pick at.

Who was she kidding? They would find something. They always did and she liked carbs too much. Plus, she had grown a whole ass child. No matter what she did, she didn’t think she’d have that flat stomach of her teens back again.

After Tom had his morning run, he would come back for a shower and a light breakfast. An egg, some toast and fruit usually was what he would have. Mia would sometimes have it ready for him when he came back up but other times she lost track of time and he made it for himself without complaint.

Every time he came back though, he would greet her with an arm around her waist and a squeeze of his hand on hers. It was a greeting she began to look forward to every morning.

Mia sat at the table, plate of pancakes and eggs in front of her. Sally was across from her and they were practicing spelling ‘Sally’ and writing Mia’s phone number on a dry erase board as they ate.

Sure, it would be quicker and easier to eat then practice, one task at a time but Sally was in a learning mood. Mia had long ago learned that when a child wanted to learn, you took advantage of that for as long as you could.

Ride that wave while it lasted.

Once Sally had these things down, Mia would start teaching their address. In handful of weeks Sally would be starting kindergarten and Mia wanted her to be as prepared as she could be going into it.

“What do you want for your birthday?” Mia asked as Sally finished writing her phone number again.

“Someone’s got a birthday coming up?” Tom asked from the doorway. His hair was dark with water from the shower still and sticking up in every direction from being towel dried. Mia had yet to get used to seeing him like that, tee shirt clinging lightly to his still slightly damp chest in places.

“In two days!” Sally was great about not annoying people wit her upcoming birthdays.

Mia had always been thankful for that but it also made her feel guilty. They never had the money to go big. Birthdays were always small affairs with little homemade cakes and dollar store toys. If Mia was lucky, she could get one or two quality toys. Ashley would pull through usually with something that wouldn’t break in two weeks.

“Well, what are you doing for your birthday?” Tom asked, focused intently on the small girl that had unexpectedly became a part of his life.

“I want a pool party!” Sally had seen a birthday pool party in a show and she had talked about off and on since. Mia had hoped that she had forgotten.

“Well, if that’s what the birthday girl wants, that’s what she’ll get!” Tom loved birthdays. His sister had warned him against becoming over eager plenty of times when it came to things for her own children. “What is the birthday girl going to want for her birthday?”

“A pony!” Mia cringed back. Sally was treating it like a game. She probably thought it was. Mia was terrified however that Tom would take the request seriously.

“Do you even know how to ride a pony?” Tom leaned forward and raised an eyebrow dramatically.

Please be joking. Please be joking. Mia wasn’t sure there was a graceful way to jump in if he wasn’t joking.

“Noooo.” Sally giggled.

“Have you ever even touched a pony?” Tom asked, lowering the eyebrow and raising the other. It was comical and Mia couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Please don’t buy her a pony. Please, Please, do not by her a fucking pony.

“Nooo.” Sally giggled harder.

“Well maybe a pony would be something to work up to.” Tom leaned back and put his eyebrows back where they belonged. “But who knows what birthday miracles may happen.”

~~~~~<3

Mia waited for Tom outside of Sally’s door. At least for the time being, Tom was the requested guest star of bedtimes and Mia had been pushed aside. Sure, she could have felt jealous or threatened by it but she instead relished in the help.

She was tired from working her shift. Her feet hurt and the dress was uncomfortable but she made it home just in time for bedtime. She gave her hug and kisses and goodnights but Sally wanted the bedtime story from Tom and Tom alone once again.

Mia tried not to worry about how Sally would cope with things when Tom left again. It would be time to take him to the airport again before they knew it. She wasn’t looking forward to it at all. Sally would miss him. Mia would miss the help greatly.

Mia would miss him greatly too.

Tom being there meant she didn’t have to pay for a babysitter, though this was the first day he was on his own without Gretchen relieving him for part of the day or supervising. He had insisted he was fine with watching Sally while he was there.

He reminded her again and again that he was her step father, even if Sally didn’t know that yet. It was a job he insisted he took seriously and so far, it seemed that he did. He had all but begged her to trust him and begrudgingly, she did.

“Good Night.” Tom said, stepping out of the door and closing it behind him, nearly walking into Mia. “Oh-”

“Do not buy her a pony.”

Tom laughed and wrapped his arm around her waist. Mia didn’t find anything funny though she let him lead her away from the door and toward the couch. Bare feet padded along as she waited for Tom to say anything.

“I mean it Tom, don’t buy her a pony.”

“I’m not going to buy her a pony.” Tom said as he sat down on the couch. He made an effort to pull her down with him but she stood ridged. “What’s wrong.”

“Tom, I am her mother.”

“I know that.”

“Then do not make birthday plans or promises or anything without clearing it with me first.”

“But I-”

“Do you even know if she’s got friends to invite to a pool party? Who would show up? Or the logistics of planning a kid’s birthday party? I don’t know if they’re done differently in England but they’re a fucking nightmare here.”

“I’m sorry, I-”

“We don’t have anyone to invite. Let alone on short notice. Do not put some grand party ideas in her head when I can’t deliver on that and even if you can, who’s to say if I can next year. Or the year after. She is my daughter and we have our ways of doing things.”

“Okay.” Tom raised his hands up in submission. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I got excited is all.”

“Good.” Mia didn’t know what else to say. She was still angry, she’d spent most of her shift fuming about it and worrying about what other promises are being made without her being there to intercept it. “Good.”

“What can I do to fix it?” Tom tugged at her hand, urging her to sit with him.

“Just keep it small. And ask first.”

He noticed then that she was still wearing the short cocktail dress that was her uniform. Her legs were on full display. She wasn’t particularly tall however the length of the skirt did wonders at highlighting the length and shape of her legs. “Why haven’t you changed yet?”

“I was distracted.”

“By your need to yell at me?” Tom joked.

“Yes.” She huffed.

“Go change. Then you can yell at me more from something more comfortable, if you want.”

~~~~~<3

Mia changed out of the reveling dress in the closet with the door shut behind her. It was silly, they were married and yet she she was still shy around him. He was a attractive man who could have and did have actresses and she was everyday normal.

She slipped on a pair of athletic shorts that were used for sleep far more than they were used for working out. It was just a matter of time before her metabolism came crashing down and she’d have to start working out or learn to again love, well- like, her changing body.

For now, walking miles on the casino floor in four inch heels and skipping her mid shift meal to avoid the bloat in the dress worked together to keep her weight within what she felt was acceptable.

Just because she thought it was acceptable didn’t mean she was ready to expose a sober Tom to every little bulge, sag and stretch mark that came with having grown a child. She’d seen pictures of the woman he had dated before her, she was too weak to resist looking. She was fit and trim and tall and fucking beautiful.

That was the sort of woman men like Tom looked good with. They were the kind of women men like Tom liked. They belonged on red carpets and in magazines.

Mia threw out her insecurities as best she could while she threw her bra in the hamper. She hated the feeling of taking it off. It did a great job of supporting her breasts that had never really recovered from a near year of breastfeeding. She had no other way to explain it but that they felt deflated, empty but with a good bra, they were pretty damn nice still.

She slipped on a oversized Tshirt and pulled her largely deflated curls into a messy pony tail. With a overnight shift coming up tomorrow, she had enlisted Tom to help keep her awake so that she’d sleep in.

~~~~~<3

Tom folded over her as she ran her fingers up his chest, taking in the feeling of his muscles as they moved. His head swam as he took her nipple into his mouth again. Tugging, pulling and licking, he teased delicate moans from her throat.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered as he kissed his way up to her neck.

Her back arched under him as he ran his fingers up and down her sides. Each breath she took caused her nipples to brush against his chest.

“I want you.” She pleaded as she blindly worked his buckle open. “Please.”

She was like an animal pawing to get to some vital resource. It took far longer than she wanted to get the belt free. Tom grew impatient and uncomfortable with waiting and yanked it free himself.

As he tossed it behind him, she palmed him through his pants. She moaned at the feeling and it would be a lie to say he didn’t take satisfaction in that. He wasn’t a poorly endowed man by any means, he knew that but having a woman moan at the feel alone was a great complement.

“Please.” Oh, he liked hearing her beg for him.

He also liked the feeling of her fingers wrapping around him. He hadn’t noticed when she had gotten his trousers unbuttoned, let alone unzipped but good god, her fingers felt good wrapped around his shaft.

“Let me get these off.”

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

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#tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x oc #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x original character #Tom hiddleston x original female character #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic

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softguarnere · 3 months

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For Whatever We Lose

Lewis Nixon x OFC (slow burn, enemies to lovers) Chapter Four: A United Front

Summary: Dick, as always, has a plan A/N: Finally, the moment we've been waiting for. Warnings: period typical sexism Taglist: @kujofam @dcyllom

It starts immediately.

They return from their run with Easy Company to find their bunkhouse has been trashed. Footlockers have been overturned, mattresses and pillows have been ripped open and off of beds, spilling feathers across the floorboards. They have to clean it up themselves, of course. And it’s not until they’re halfway through and Juanita asks if anyone has seen her underwear that they all collectively realize that their Army issued undergarments are gone.

Fortunately or otherwise, they aren’t hard to find, seeing as they’ve been strung up on the flagpole. The only person who seems more upset about it than the Women’s Squad is Colonel Sink. We don’t want these girls here! the action screams. But the colonel has never been one to back down from a challenge. They remain where they are.

Other signs that they are disliked and unvalued are less extreme, less obvious.

Someone up the chain of command learns that Minerva can play the piano and that Anna can sing, and they find themselves providing entertainment for an officer’s dinner. Women are constantly assigned to the kitchens for their duties, and snickers about how they’re “back where they belong” follow them everywhere. No matter how they wear their hair, someone always find a way to pull it when running past, like schoolboys tugging on pigtails before giggling and running away.

Except this isn’t the school yard. This isn’t a game. This is war.

The letter that arrives that morning is written in very block-like handwriting and begins with Minerva’s least favorite nickname.

Dear Minnie,

Minerva sighs around a mouthful of toast and reminds herself that she’s fortunate only John-Michael calls her that.

I am fine. How are you?

The Germans are gone now, so things are quiet. Pop and I watch for them from the lighthouse. He says that we are holding down the fort while you are away. So you do not have to worry about us, because Sparky and I can hold off the U-Boats.

I hope your training is going good. Mom and I pray for you every night at church. Jack’s mom –

The name physically pains Minerva to see in print. She squeezes her eyes shut, the paper crumpling in her hand as she lets the wave of emotion wash over her. When it ebbs out to sea again, she continues, not quite from where she left off.

I hope we get to see you before you ship off. You are all anyone here talks about. I am very proud to be your brother.

That last part tugs on her heartstrings in a way that makes her feel guilty for how angry she was with her brother for opening the letter with her hated nickname.

From across the table, Keziah sighs. Her posture is stiff – the sort of tense posture that usually comes from a mother hovering over a child’s shoulder while they try to complete their homework. She jerks her neck, the tilt of her head indicating one of the tables across the aisle from where they sit.

“Look at them,” she mutters. “Gaping.”

She’s not wrong, really. Minerva can’t be sure, but she suspects that someone somehow incentivized Easy Company to be companionable with their new additions, because most of them have been amiable enough. Sure, there are a few who have made it known that they do not agree with the women being made part of their company – or part of the military at all – but the treatment coming from within their own company is nowhere near as bad as what they’ve been experiencing from the others.

And at least the men who don’t seem to mind them too much have tried to be polite. Like Webster, several have introduced themselves, made an attempt to get to know their new sisters in arms. Some are more subtle about their intentions. It didn’t take Minerva long to realize that when she gets up to run Currahee in the mornings, Speirs or Lieutenant Winters – or Dick, he keeps assuring her she can call him – materializes out of thin air and joins her for the run. If one of the girls has to walk somewhere, one or two of the men will peel away from the group to tail them, just to make sure that they get to where they are trying to go.

Though none of the men have dared bridge the gap by sitting with the women during their meals, a chosen few have made a habit out of choosing seats at the table beside theirs. All the women politely pretend not to notice the men glancing at their table, constantly checking up on them. But they would have to be blind not to notice that some of them stare.

Like Bill Guarnere is now. There are nine women at the table, but his gaze keeps seeming to land on Keziah.

“Hey, Guarnere!” The woman in question flashes him a smile, though her eyes are cold. “You never seen an Indian before, or something?”

The man at the next table over blinks, taken aback. “What?”

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you that staring is rude?” Keziah clarifies. She doesn’t turn her attention back to the women’s table until Guarnere has averted his eyes and inserted himself into the conversation of the men beside him. Satisfied, she leans back in her chair and resumes eating.

Minerva smirks. “Poor guy. What a way to get turned down.”

Keziah’s gaze shoots up. Her eyes are wide, and in her surprise, she drops her fork onto her plate with a clatter that makes several other women leave their own conversations to flash her a concerned look. “What?”

“Kez.” Minerva leans across the table, like they’re sharing secrets during class, trying not to get caught by the teacher. “He wasn’t looking at you like that. Not in a bad way, I mean. He likes you.”

“No,” Keziah insists. She doesn’t meet Minerva’s eye. That particular thread of conversation has been severed.

“Okay.” If that’s what Keziah wants to think, she won’t argue. There’s obviously some sort of soreness in this topic, some hurt that hasn’t healed yet. Minerva isn’t about to go picking at other people’s emotional scabs. But she has been on the receiving end of enough looks of that sort to know that Guarnere feels something towards her friend. And she’s a teacher. She sees that look passing between students a hundred times a day in the classroom. Suffice it to say, she knows what she’s talking about.

No fraternization, Sobel had warned her and Diana. Well, clearly if the men received the same ultimatums, they aren’t taking them as seriously – or they didn’t receive them at all. What do you do when your captain makes it clear that mistakes will not be tolerated, but then seems to set you up for failure at every turn?

To some, Easy Company’s Women’s Squad seems destined to fail from the start. Despite Sobel’s insistence that Easy Company will maintain its stellar record – or rather, that he maintains his reputation – the girls can’t seem to catch a break.

Anna’s weekend pass gets revoked after Sobel sees her smile at Floyd Talbert. Lori Sinclair’s pass is revoked for having the slowest time up and down Currahee. Lucy McNair is assigned to clean the latrines after a joke about Sobel is – allegedly – traced back to her. Bianca Mancini gets yelled at in front of everyone on the rifle range for not being able to assemble her gun fast enough, and then Joe Liebgott’s is revoked because he steps in and attempts to help her.

“We can’t let them go on like this,” Dick says. It’s morning, and though his tone is strong and assured, his voice is quiet, and Nixon only just hears him over the clatter of silverware and the morning chatter that fills the officer’s mess.

It takes a minute for the caffeine in his cup to circle through his bloodstream and wake him up enough to realize what his friend is talking about, and even then, he’s a little unsure. “Huh?”

Dick shrugs, never taking his eyes off the piece of toast that he’s spreading jam onto. To anyone passing by, it looks like just a casual conversation over breakfast. But Nixon is just awake and alert enough to know that this is very quickly turning into something much more serious.

“The whole company hates our commanding officer,” Dick explains, voice still quiet enough that he won’t be overheard. “But he’s even harder on the women. And then he’s furious when the men try to stick up for them the way they would any of their own.”

“Well, what are we going to do about it?” Nothing they can do, really. Well, maybe something, but he’s not the one clever enough to find it. And honestly, if it weren’t for Dick, he probably wouldn’t even be considering any of the possibilities.

“Not much we can do,” Dick says, affirming Nixon’s original impression of the situation. “But – “ Of course he’s come up with something. Nixon bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “ – we can make it a little easier on the women. Show them that they’re not alone in this.”

“How?”

“Let’s talk to their sergeants. Reach out, create a dialogue. Let them know that we’re on their side. Show them that they can count on us, and that we can work together. They’re in this thing, now, and it’s time that they had officers in their corner instead of instigating more trouble for them.”

If he didn’t know any better, he would say that Dick has already planned this whole thing out. “What do you have in mind?”

“Tonight, in here. We’ll meet with them, discuss their concerns, ask how we can help. And then we’ll help them. Whatever they want, whatever they need.” He pauses, quirks an eyebrow. “What?”

Nixon shrugs, smiling into his coffee cup as he sips the hot liquid inside. “Smart move, setting the meeting in a public place, but at a time where we won’t be disturbed. We can still be accused of fraternization, but the accusations wouldn’t hold up very well, seeing as we’re all in a place where we could be caught at any minute. That counts as evidence that nothing inappropriate has happened.”

“Exactly.”

“If Sobel finds out, he’ll probably still revoke our weekend passes, though.”

“Probably,” Dick says. “But it’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

And take it he does.

At the end of the day, right after the last of the dinner crowd has cleared out, the Women’s Squad sergeants appear in the doorway. The smaller of the two hesitates in the doorway, like she’s unsure if this is something she should risk, but the tall one with the dark hair breezes in with no qualms. Revels, reads the name on her fatigues.

Sergeant Revels, Nixon corrects himself. One of the college grads who was made an NCO by order of Colonel Sink himself. Nixon would recognize the name even without that, though; one of Sobel’s favorite chores to give him is censoring the mail for the company. Clearly the captain didn’t realize that the chore would feed Nixon’s penchant for a good story. Anyway, the name Minerva had stuck out to him because he thought it was ironic that someone sharing a name with a goddess of war would join up, and then be promoted to NCO so quickly. Very fitting. And looking at her now, it is fitting.

He’s seen her around, of course, now that the women are officially part of Easy Company. But this is the first time he’s seen her up close. She’s got a very attractive diamond shaped face, and freckles spatter across her olive-colored skin. When she smiles, it reaches all the way to her eyes, which are a piercing green. Her dark hair, even pulled back in a ponytail, falls in sleek waves over her shoulder. This is the woman who writes with such care, such fine prose, to her family back home in some place called Frisco, which Nixon may or may not have had to look for on a map, just out of pure curiosity.

“Sergeant Revels.” Dick extends a hand to her, and she pumps it hardily. “Sergeant Bradham. Allow me to introduce Lieutenant Nixon.”

“Nice to meet you.” Minerva smiles.

Ah, there it is! That strange accent that he’s heard so much about. No, not strange. Unique might be a better word for it. It’s not unpleasant – just something that Nixon has never encountered before.

He smiles as he shakes her hand. “The pleasure is all mine.”

The other Sergeant, Diana, seems nice enough. It’s obvious from her body language, the way that she keeps glancing at Minerva, that she feels out of her depth, but is trying her hardest not to automatically defer to her fellow NCO. Good on her. She doesn’t radiate the sort of confidence that Minerva does, but as Nixon watches her, he can tell that she’s a good, thoughtful listener.

Hopefully everyone else does enough listening for all of them, because Nixon sure as hell doesn’t. He wants to help them, yes, and he wants to support Dick, of course, but the old socialite instincts kick in and it’s like his body runs purely on muscle memory for a moment.

As they sit down, Dick offers the NCOs coffee, which they both accept. From his pocket, Nixon produces his trusty flask, and with a quick glance over his shoulder, tips some of the contents into his cup. From across the table, Diana giggles. The joke approved, he holds up his flask as a sort of offering. Diana shakes her head, though she’s smiling.

Minerva, however, pushes her coffee cup towards him when he makes the same gesture to her. He only pours in a splash of liquor, feeling Dick’s disproving glance from beside him. It makes the sergeant all the more interesting in Nixon’s eyes. Especially when she flashes him a brilliant smile and takes a sip of the drink.

Shenanigans over, Dick immediately gets down to brass tacks. He’s gone over his thoughts with Nixon at least a hundred times since this morning. But Nixon is interested to see how the women will react to what he has to say.

He takes careful note of their reactions. It’s a simple meeting, really. Dick just wants them to know that they can come to him with any issues, that he’s on their side, and that he’s willing to do anything in his power to help with their Sobel issues. The women, for their part, seem thankful, and Diana even has a suggestion of her own.

“I think things would be better if the men and women could get to know each other,” she admits. “Sobel has everyone afraid of losing their passes on fraternization charges. Some of the women feel like they can’t get to know the people they’ll be taking bullets for because of the rule.”

“A stupid rule designed to create divisions between us that’s unfairly enforced,” Minerva mutters.

Diana nods as if to say, Exactly! If she were a little braver, those might have been her exact words.

Dick nods, brows drawn in thought. “Okay,” he says after a moment. “I think we can do something about that.”

We can? Nixon almost asks. He takes a sip of his spiked coffee to stop himself. For someone who’s usually good at reading people, he has no clue what his friend is planning. Better to remain a united front, though. He waits until they’ve bid the women good night – with Nixon flashing them his most charming smile – to ask.

“If the men can engage in bonding exercises, then the women should be able to join them,” Dick explains with a shrug. “Like Sergeant Bradham said: they should know the people that they’ll be taking a bullet for.”

“Do you think they will though? Have to take a bullet for someone, I mean.”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

Now it’s Nixon’s turn to shrug. “Some people seem to think that the Women’s Squad is just a publicity stunt. There are rumors that they won’t see any actual combat; just show up and look pretty for photos or do minimal work on the front lines.”

Dick seems really and truly shocked by the news, which in turn shocks Nixon. People have been whispering about it all week. How has Dick not heard the rumors?

“Well. That would be a shame if the military resorted to using them for models.”

Nixon is inclined to disagree. Some of the women are very attractive and would probably make excellent models. He doesn’t bring it up, though, since that’s not what Dick meant, and the joke wouldn’t land well.

“So, what do you have in mind?”

Dick purses his lips. “They’ve hardly had the chance to socialize. The men have already formed into cliques, and I’m willing to bet the women have, too. Maybe we need an activity that will allow them to get to know each other, form new connections.”

“Well, they can’t sit around and do ice breakers without Sobel accusing us of encouraging fraternization. Hell, he would think we had set them all up on first dates.”

“No. But if they were to participate in an activity that would take several hours, during which they would have plenty of opportunities to talk . . .” Dick smiles. There’s a gleam in his eye that, despite how close they’ve become in such a short time, Nixon has not seen before. He can’t help but chuckle.

“What do you have in mind?”

Dick only shrugs, a casual gesture. “How do you feel about a scavenger hunt?”

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #lewis nixon #lewis nixon x oc #band of brothers oc #oc minerva revels #my writing #for whatever we lose #hbo war #hbo war fanfic

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goyaagogo · 2 years

Text

I’ll Be Seeing You (George Luz x OFC)

Wow wow wooowwww it’s been over 2 months since the last part, sorry I been enjoying summer, aka watching Love Island, melting into a puddle of sweat and cryinnggg baybeeee...

Note: I am but a mere horny, dreamy bitch, I don’t know military/medical stuff, so please don’t come at me with corrections. As I’ve stated before I’m here for a good time, not an accurate time. weeeeeee....

Here are the previous parts if you missed them!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Chapter 7-

George and Simone had spent the entire night in bed, making love, talking and sleeping. Simone enjoyed the evening, more than enjoyed it, really-- but in the light of the morning, after George had left, she could feel fear and anxiety growing, gnawing at her gut.

In the light of day things looked different-- how could she have been so foolish as to sleep with him? She endangered both herself and him with her reckless behavior-- things got dangerous when feelings were involved. She knew this, as well as anyone still left with a pulse in this war.

She felt distracted all day, waiting—not so patiently- for the evening. She prayed it would be Malarkey that showed— she needed more time to think things over, to figure out how she really felt before she saw him again. The sun had only just set when she heard the knock at her door. She stood in front of the door, hesitating for just a moment before taking a deep breath and opening it.

There on her doorstep was Speirs, “Uh, hello— come in.”

She stood aside and let him in, following him into the kitchen where he sat down at the table. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Speirs, on one hand he did seem nice enough-- he made her food that night, after all-- but he also made her feel undone and exposed, just by looking at her.

"Are you hungry? I have some stew left from dinner..." she asked.

Speirs looked surprised at her offer, "Only if you're not going to eat it. Did you actually eat today?"

There was the slightest hint at playfulness in his tone that made her feel at ease.

"I had plenty-- I promise."Simone set the stew and a spoon down on the table, and grabbed 2 glasses and the brandy.

______________

"Now we're even..." she remarked as he finished the stew, seeming to savor every last bit of broth.

"Even?" he asked, pushing the bowl away.

"You fed me... I fed you..."

"You don't like owing favors, do you?" Speirs asked, the corner of his mouth turned up in slight amusement.

"Owing favors can get you killed in war."

He nodded, "that's true. But I didn't make you that sandwich so that you'd owe me something..."

Simone shrugged,"Still a favor owed."

"You know, I was really skeptical when Nix told me the Sentinelle was a woman, but now that I know you, I can see it. You're shrewd."

"Is that a compliment?"

"The highest."

For a moment they sat in comfortable silence, watching the fire.

"So why are you back? Did Makarley and George need a break?" Simone asked.

"Why do you call him George?"

She almost choked on her brandy at his question, she could feel her cheeks and ears burn with embarrassment.

"What?" she scoffed, feeling herself get defensive.

"You call Malarkey by his last name.. why not call George by his?"

She hadn't even considered this before, was that a dead giveaway of her fondness for George?

She felt as if she had been caught-- but this wasn't an entirely new feeling, as uncomfortable as it was. There had been plenty of times during the war when she had been caught in a lie or in a situation where she had to lie her way out.

Her instinct kicked in and she calmed herself, "George's last name is difficult for me to pronounce, that's all."

She could tell Speirs didn’t believe her, but she ignored it.

"You didn't answer my question..." she added.

Speirs shrugged, "change of scenery..."

"Menteur..." she mumbled cheekily before taking another sip.

"Repete ca?"

"I called you a liar..."

Did she have too much brandy tonight? Why was she being so bold?

Speirs chuckled and looked down at his glass.

She felt a small flutter in her stomach at the fact that he didn't refute that his reasoning was a lie. He came for her.

"Well I think I've had enough, I should go to bed."

Simone stood up and pushed her chair in.

Speirs jumped up out of his seat at her words, "I should check the windows and doors, just to be sure.."

He went about the first floor checking the locks while Simone put away the glasses and the decanter.

She was halfway up the stairs when Speirs came after her.

"What are you doing?"

"I have to check all the windows." he said plainly as he followed her to the landing.

She watched him check the windows in what used to be her aunt's room before following Simone into her room.

As he checked the windows and drew the curtains closed again, Simone lit a candle that stood on her dresser and the memories of last night came rushing back to her-- George kissing her neck, his arms wrapped around her waist-- she grasped the edge of the dresser, suddenly feeling faint, her heart beating fast.

She looked up into the mirror affixed to the dresser and saw Speirs watching her. She turned around and gave a faint smile.

"Are the windows locked?" she asked quietly, having trouble finding her voice.

Speirs nodded, "they are..."

He put his hands in his pockets and walked towards the door, " Bonne nuit, Simone..."

"Goodnight, Ron."

Speirs smiled knowingly at her, catching her use of his first name.

He stopped at the open door and looked over at her "I came here tonight to see you."

Simone couldn't help the slight flutter she felt as he said those words.

Speirs gave a small smile and shut the door behind him.

She blew out the candle and walked to her bed in the utter darkness.

She laid down and reached out to the side where George had been and she felt a sudden ache for him. She grabbed the pillow and pressed it to her face and breathed in his faint scent. How could she feel so much for someone she had spent such little time with? And now she couldn't deny the spark of feeling for Ron she felt. Where would all of this lead?

____________

Simone didn't know what time it was when she was startled awake by a commotion downstairs. She jumped out of bed and pulled on her clothes from yesterday, stumbling in the dark of her room.

Simone all but fell down the stairs before finding Speirs in the kitchen holding a woman up against the wall, his rifle across her chest. It took her a moment to adjust to the grey early morning light but when she did she realized Speirs was holding one of her runners, Mathilde.

"Simone!" Mathilde croaked.

"Ron stop, she's one of mine!" she shouted rushing to help Mathilde as Ron released her.

She helped Mathilde to a chair who collapsed, out of breath.

"Lucien is trapped!" Mathilde lamented after she caught her breath.

"What happened? Where is he?" Simone asked, her heart sinking for Lucien, one of her best runners.

"I got word he was carrying an urgent message for you so I went to meet him on the outskirts of Losange in case he needed me to take over-- I could see him running towards me, but a sniper got him in the leg. He dragged himself into a store front, there was so much blood..." Mathilde trailed off and wiped the tears from her face.

"Losange, that's heavily disputed... did you see any Americans?" Ron asked.

Mathilde shook her head, "none.. only German snipers from what I could see."

"I'll get troops together and extract him."

"No I need to go.. if he's badly wounded he won't survive being moved..." Simone argued.

"Then we'll get the message from him." Ron countered.

"He won't tell you. My runners only carry messages to me, or to each other. You'll never get a word out of him."

"Christ..." Ron muttered as he turned away, clearly frustrated with the situation. "There's no time to waste, we need to leave now, Ron."

He turned back to her, his face cloudy with concern, " Fine. Let's go."

Chapter 8-

It was nearing dawn as their group broke the tree line on the southern outskirts of Losange, where Mathilde had directed them to go to find Lucien.

Simone followed behind Ron, Nixon, Winters and a medic named Roe, through the barren winter fields outside the town.

In almost 5 years of war, Simone had found herself in dangerous situations before, but knowing that one of her favorite runners--and the youngest, too-- was trapped among German snipers and bleeding out made her feel sick to her stomach.

Crouching down behind ruins, Winters carefully peered out on the barren street lined with blown-out storefronts.

"He's in the pharmacy on the right, two o'clock...Simone, when I give the signal we're going to run, okay? Just stay focused on the pharmacy, we'll cover you. " Winters whispered, his eyes unblinking and serious.

Simone nodded, unable to find her words.

She wondered how he could be so sure of it, but when Winter's gave the signal and they began to move, she could see the trail of blood that led to the pharmacy's store front.

She could feel her heart thundering in her ears as they ran, sniper fire erupting around them.

Simone gasped for air as they ran into the pharmacy, she hadn't realized that she had been holding her breath.

There, lying behind the counter surrounded by a growing pool of blood was Lucien.

Simone let out a cry as she ran to him, pulling his limp body into her arms as Roe checked his pulse.

She looked up to Roe, her eyes full of tears, but he shook his head and said, "Rien... no pulse..."

Another cry escaped Simone's lips as she held Lucien's body tighter.

The men could see how pained she was and let her be for a moment.

"Simone... Simone, we have to leave. We can't stay here." Winter's said gently with a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I can't leave him.."

"We have to, for now, but we'll come back for him. I promise."

Simone knew he was right, as much as she wanted to stay with Lucien, she knew there was no use. He was dead, and his message along with him.

She nodded and whispered, "okay."

Ron helped her to her feet, keeping a steady hand on her back and Winter's snuck a glance out the window before turning to Simone, "Same as before. When I give the signal, you run right back the way we came, okay?"

Simone gave a nod and a moment later Winter's gave the signal.

She ran with all the strength she had left, the late winter air burning her lungs.

Simone could see the ruins they had hid behind getting closer and just when she thought she was in the clear a stinging pain caught her in the shoulder.

Simone cried out, her stride faltering so that she fell sideways into Nixon, who caught himself and her.

"Roe!" Nixon called out as he helped Simone the last couple yards to safety.

"Where is she hit?" Roe asked, his hands moving quickly as he pulled out his supplies, while Nixon helped Simone to the ground.

"Left shoulder"

Roe moved to Simone's left side, pulling off her coat to reveal a circle of blood that was slowly spreading.

He lifted her up roughly to look at her back, causing Simone to cry out.

"Watch it!" Ron roared, pushing Nixon aside to get closer.

Roe didn't pay Ron any mind, but simply said, " no exit wound, the bullet is still in."

Simone had gone almost the whole war without being shot and it was a worse pain than she had ever imagined, the feeling radiating down her arm and across her chest.

Roe hesitated for a moment, glancing at the 3 other men before attempting to gently tear her blouse, but Simone was in too much pain to care about the exposure.

Nixon, Winters and Ron looked away, while Roe cut the strap of her bra and packed the wound, eliciting another cry from Simone.

"Give her some morphine, goddammit!" Ron bellowed, his eyes wild with a mix of anger and concern.

Roe was just about to pull out the syrettes, but Simone protested, "No! No morphine, please-- don't waste it, I don't need it."

She had known there was a shortage of morphine syrettes and as much pain as she was in at the moment, she knew that there would be a soldier who needed it more.

Roe respected Simone's request, a knowing glance passing between them.

"No! Give it to her, can't you see she's in pain?!" Ron's voice had grown to a growl and he moved to grab the small case of syrettes from Roe, but Nixon put a strong hand on Ron's shoulder to stop him.

"We need to get her back to CP-- I can't fully stop the bleeding." Roe told Winters, his voice low.

"We can't safely move her with that sniper..." Nixon countered sounding worried.

It was then that Simone began to feel sleepy, her eyes closing slowly, against her best efforts and sounds began to echo. She could hear Roe faintly, he was calling her name, but the siren call of darkness was stronger.

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #bob #george luz #george luz imagine #george luz fanfic #george luz x ofc #dick winters #ron speirs #ron speirs imagine #lewis nixon #easy company

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roadtogracelandx45 · 11 months

Text

To Update/ Coming soon- June 14th- August 31st

** means smut

Admiral's Daughter- part 1, 2 and 3- Top Gun Maverick ff, Chasing Angels series. 2 Hangman/ Bianca/ Rooster, 3 Dagger Squad, 1. Bianca, Hangman, Coyote, and Phoniex.

Baby I Do,- Part 2* ,3*, 4,5- Elvis- Burnin' Love series- Elvis/ Sylvie

Little White Church- One Shot- Elvis- Stand alone- Elvis/Sylvie

Cowboy Take Me Away- Parts *2 and 3- Top Gun Maverick FF- Chasing Angels series- Hangman/Bianca

Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy*- One shot- Yellowstone- Angel of Mercy Series- Lee Dutton/ Spencer Abbott

Just Dance- Part 1, 2*,3*,4* - Top Gun Maverick FF- Chasing Angels series- Hangman/Bianca

Wouldn't It Be Nice- One shot- Supernatural- Darkest Before the Dawn Series- Dean/Ellie

Secrets That Are Meant- one shot* Supernatural- Secrets That Are Meant To Kept Series- Sam/ Dean- Wincest

To Be Kept- One Shot*- Supernatural- Secrets That Are Meant To Kept Series- Ellie/Dean/Sam

Need You To Know- One shot*- Supernatural- Secrets That Are Meant To Kept- Ellie/Dean

Be My Baby Tonight- Part 1, Part 2*, Part 3, Part 4*- Avengers, Only Fools Rush Series- Steve/ Lennon, Bucky/ Lennon

Saturday's Alright For Fighting- One Shot- Fast Saga- Life in The Fastlane Saga- Vince/Sophie

On The Outside- Parts 3, 4,5,6 The Outsiders- On The Outside- implied Soda/Mattie

Game Changers- Part 2, 3,4,5.6- The Mighty Ducks- Game Changers series- Adam Banks/ Ava Bombay

I Kissed A Girl- One Shot*- Fast Saga- Life In The Fastlane Saga- Letty/ Sophie

California Girls- One Shot*- Top Gun Maverick- Chasing Angels- Phoniex/ Bianca

Courage Under Fire- Band of Brothers- Courage Under Fire Series- Bill/Olivia, Olivia/ Joseph Liebgott, Bill/ May Jenkins Parts 1, 2, 3*,4,5

Burnin' Love- Elvis- Burnin' Love Series- Elvis/Sylvie- Parts 5,6,7,8,9,10

Chasing Angels- Top Gun Maverick- Chasing Angels Series- Rooster/ Bianca, IceMav, Hangman/ Bianca, Hangman/ Phoniex, Phoneix/ Bianca. Parts 2, 3*, 4*,5,6,7

Should Be Me- Band of Brothers- Courage Under Fire series- what if- part 2- Bill/ Olivia

Charming Town- Sons of Anarchy- Charming Town Series- Jax/Ryder- Parts 7,8, 9*,10*,11*,12

I Don't Dance But For You- Top Gun Maverick- Chasing Angels one shot- Rooster Bianca-

Only Fools Rush In- Captain America- Only Fools Rush in Series- Parts 2,3,4,5*,6*,7*,8,9,10- Bucky/Hannah. Steve/Peggy

Under False Pretenses- Band of Brothers Mafia AU- Under False Pretense series- Liebgott/ Olivia, Dick/Olivia/Nixon part 2*,3*,4*,5*,6,7,8*,9*,10*

Are You Going My Way- Band of Brothers College AU- Are You Going My Way Series- Lewis/ Olivia, Buck/Olivia, Liebgott/Oliva, Bill/Olivia etc Part 2*, Part 3, Part 4*,5,6*

Please, I Need You- Chicago PD- Thin Blue Line series- Jay Libby one shot

Got You- Chicago PD x Blue Blood crossover- Jayx Libby- parts 4*, 5*, 6, 7

Don't Stop Believing- Chicago Fire x Blue Crossover- Kelly Severide. Libby Reagan- Parts 2,3,4,5,6

Through The Heart- S.W.A.T- Luca x Josie Kay- parts 4,5,6,7,8

Star Crossed Lovers- Twilight- Star Crossed Lovers series- Rosalie/Emmett/ Lily parts 1,2,3,4,5

Hearts Made of Glass- Twilight All Human- Lily/Edward- Parts 2,3,4,5

Life In The Fastlane- Fast Saga- Vince/Sophie, Dom/Sophie, Letty/Sophie, Dom/Letty, Mia/Brian- Parts 7*,8*,9,10,11

Girl from Barstow- Fast Saga- Life In The Fastlane series- One shot-

Thin Blue Line- One Chicago/Law and Order SVU/Blue Bloods crossover- Parts 2,3,4

Winter's Gate- Game of Thrones- Winter's Gate series- Robb Stark/Jonlynn- Parts 4, 5*, 6

Homeward Bound- Game of Thrones- Winter Gate series- Robb Stark/ Jonlynn- Part 2,3, 4

Second Chances- Lord of The Rings/The Hobbbit- Second Chances series- Legolas/Ilianna/ either Fili or Kili- Part 2, 3,4

Royals- Harry Potter- Royals Series- Fred/Celeste. George- part 1,2,3,4,5

Puzzle Pieces- Triple Frontier- Miller Brothers/OFC parts 1,2,3, 4

Mine now. Sons of anarchy- Jax/Ryder one shot

Night Terrors - Winter Solider and the Falcon- Bucky/Lennon one shot

Sweet as Georgia Peach- Band of Brothers- prequel story to Courage Under Fire. Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Oh My, My Love- Elvis- Two Shot- part 1, part 2

London Blue- Band of Brothers- one shot- Liebgott/ Liv- set after D-Day

London Grey- Band of Brothers- one shot- Nixon/Liv

Undercover- One Chicago- parts 2,3,4

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