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footprintsinthesxnd · 4 months

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Anything For You

So here is the much awaited part 2 of ‘Good Girl’ for @ronsparky I’m sorry it took so long. Warnings: smut, sexual themes, bondage, swearing, Nixon being his usual self, 18+ fic only. Word count: 2.9k

It had been a few months since Y/n's last interaction with Speirs. It’s not like she was avoiding him, the company had been moved back to Mourmelon for a breather and between trying to relax and drills and training they just hadn’t managed to talk about what happened in Hagenau. They still shared longing looks across rooms and when they were occasionally close enough to touch Ron would reach out and brush his hand against hers.

After two months in Mourmelon, the company moved on to Struzelburg, Germany. The air seemed cleaner, the weather warmer and the general living conditions nicer. Y/n often thought that these comforts were almost like being back at Toccoa or Aldbourne.

She had just come back from collecting some eggs with Frank and George when she bumped into Speirs carrying a large tray of silver utensils through the street.

“You want some help with that Lieutenant?” She laughed, watching his shocked face meet hers and he gulped.

“No, that’s quite alright. I can manage,” he replied gruffly, already turning away from her and in the direction of the battalion post office.

Y/n trailed after him, despite Ron’s continued protests. Inside the post office, Ron placed the silverware on the counter, pulling out two packs of smokes for Private Vest.

“Same address as last time, Sir?” Vest asked, pocketing the packets of cigarettes with a smile.

“Yes,” Speirs replied abruptly, his eyes flicking back to Y/n for a second before turning away.

“Sure thing. I’ll say, Sir, the Y/l/n family will sure have a lot of nice silverware.” Speirs harsh glare cut the private off from saying anything else. Y/n stood in silence watching as Speirs tried to break his icey resolve and turn to her. He mumbled something about being needed at battalion before heading out the door, his head down as he passed Y/n but she couldn’t bring herself to follow him.

“Hey, Sergeant, ain’t Y/l/n your last name?”

“Shut it, Private,” Y/n snapped, spinning around on the spot and hurrying after Ron who had disappeared into the crowd of paratroopers.

Y/n had tried to find him that night but Lipton told her that he was in his room and didn’t want to be disturbed. This act went on for the rest of the month with Ron hiding away and avoiding her. That was until the company was moved on to Berchtesgaden.

Y/n finally found herself with her own room, a hot shower and a warm bed. It was these simple luxuries that Y/n had learned not to take advantage of. The alcohol flowed freely and the boys celebrated. The war in Europe had finally come to an end and despite the continuing war in Japan looming over them, for a moment, just for one night they could celebrate in peace.

Y/n had left the party an hour ago, wandering the halls in a dress she had found in one of the rooms. It was long, flowing out behind her and despite the neckline being a little lower than she would have liked, she wore it in a desperate attempt to reclaim something she had lost. She’d danced with nearly all the men that night, arm in arm with Malarkey, spinning frantically around the floor with George, Bull had taken her for a very sweet slow dance. She felt like a woman again, and the men treated her as though she was something to be admired.

Y/n found her way to the balcony that the officers often frequented, the sun loungers lay along one of the walls with discarded whiskey bottles that almost certainly belonged to Captain Nixon. At this time of night; despite the ruckus downstairs, the air was still and quiet. No wind blew, no birds sang. A dark silence hung over the mountains. Y/n didn’t know whether to find it ominous or peaceful but the silence was soon broken by the heavy footfalls of Ronald Speirs who rounded the corner so quickly that they both jumped in surprise.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was out here,” Ron confessed, avoiding her gaze and turning to head back the way he’d come.

“Ron, wait! Please. You’ve been avoiding me and we need to talk,” Y/n protested, watching as Ron fought with himself until he finally turned around to face her.

“There’s nothing to talk about. What happened between us never should have happened. We both know that. You’re going to go back home soon enough and I’m planning on staying in the army, and that’s it, either of us make it out of the Pacific anyway.” Ron huffed, slouching against the hard brick wall, glaring at the ground, “we were never gonna make it you and I.”

Y/n felt her heart clench and her lungs felt tight as she tried to find the words to convey how she felt. “You don’t know that Ron. You can’t know that unless you give us a chance.”

“We have no chance Y/n. One day you’ll wake up and realise that I was no good for you so I’m letting you go now before it’s too late. I’ve sent all the silver home to your family. I want to support you even if I can’t be with you.”

“Who says you can’t be with me?” Y/n cried, “Do I not get a say in this.” She moved closer to Ron, her dress trailing along behind her. They were inches apart when she spoke again. “I want this to be my choice Ron, and I choose you.”

Ron surged forward, pressing his lips roughly to hers. His hand gripped desperately at her hips, pulling her flush to him. In that kiss was the sweetest passion she had ever felt. Ron’s lips were soft, the stubble of his chin grazing her face but she didn’t mind the burn. Y/n found herself weaving her fingers into his hair, wrapping one of her legs around his to pull him closer. The kiss spoke volumes, travelling all the unsaid words, the unspoken feelings and desires. Y/n pulled back, brushing her thumb over Ron’s cheek and feeling the damp tears that had fallen. “I want you too,” Ron whispered, his voice cracking and Y/n realised she had never seen him cry before, his stony resolve breaking down and revealing the man beneath who just wanted to be loved.

“Oh Ron,” she whispered, their lips brushing again as she spoke. Ron looked up at her, his eyes misty and his lip quivering as he spoke.

“I’m sorry I’m so weak. I should have told you before,” he mumbled into her neck, burying his face from her view.

“You’re not weak Ron. You are the bravest man in this company. Only the brave become vulnerable emotionally and for you to show me that is braver than any act of the battlefield,” Y/n soothed him, rubbing his back in comforting circles.

Ron pulled away, his eyes becoming dark and stormy once more and a sly smirk spread across his handsome face. “If I remember correctly, you and I have some unfinished business.”

Y/n chuckled, reaching out and placing her hand in his, “I believe we do.”

Ron chuckled and it felt like the most genuine laugh they had ever shared. He scooped her up into his arms, carrying her bridal style along the corridor. She grinned up at him and Ron smiled happily down at her. Y/n now knew what she was missing in life. All those years of thinking she had a missing part and Ron’s smile filled that hole.

The walk to Ron’s room was short, too short really because all too soon Ron was carrying her over the threshold of his room and slamming the door closed with his foot, never once putting her down until he gently laid her on the bed. Ron moved to close the curtains but Y/n called out to him, “No, leave them open. You look beautiful in the moonlight.”

Ron huffed, the smile growing on his lips once more. Y/n felt herself growing warmer, just led on Ron’s bed watching him unbutton his shirt in the moonlight had her heart racing. The curves of the muscles rippling under his toned flesh caused her to whimper and Ron’s head snapped up, dark eyes watching him intensely as he whispered, “Are you going to be a good girl?”

Ron’s lips brushed against her ear lobe, sending shivers down her spine, as he whispered sweet nothings to her. Y/n had lost all coherent language as soon as Ron’s lips met hers. His hands roamed down her sides, ruffling the fabric of the dress and bunching it around her middle.

“Ron,” she pleaded with him but he ignored her, continuing to kiss down her neck while his hand grazed its way up her bare thighs. Her hands fisted in his hair and Ron groaned at the comforting sting of pain and pleasure it gave him. Ron would be lying if he said he hadn’t been dreaming of this moment since Hagenuea, well maybe even before then. The pathetic whimpers falling from Y/n’s mouth had him driven to the brink of insanity.

“Ronny, please,” Y/n begged again and Ron chuckled at this new nickname he’d been given.

“Oh Darling, you’re so needy. Tell me what you want. I’ve barely touched you and you're so desperate already.”

Y/n gasped as Ron’s fingers ran over the edge of her pant line, “Ron, God, please. Please.”

“So impatient, Darling.” Ron tutted, sitting back on his heels and smiling down at her. The distinct bulge in his trousers caused Y/n to groan further. She reached out, massaging the bulge through his trousers and watching as Ron fought back the urge to moan.

“Please Ronny,” Y/n mumbled, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Please, Ron.”

Ron couldn’t take it anymore, he sprung forward, pinning her beneath his large frame, his hands gripping her wrists and pulling them above her head. Y/n tried to wriggle out from his grip but his grip only tightened.

“Now now Darling, don’t get upset,” Ron reassured her, pressing his lips to hers to silence the whimpers.

Ron worked quickly, stripping her of her dress and underwear, tossing them across the room to be collected later. Next came his trousers, he pulled off his belt and began wrapping it around her wrists, pulling them flush against the headboard and restraining her there.

“Please Ron, let me help you. Let me touch you,” she cried but Ron silenced her again with another kiss.

“Oh pretty lady, you don’t need to touch me. Tonight is all about you.”

Y/n could feel his fingers slipping down beneath her dress once more, rubbing against the soft flesh before trailing to where she wanted him. Where she needed him.

“Ron!” She gasped, as his thumb began to slowly circle her clit, while his other hand moved up her body, stroking the smooth skin of her lower abdomen before trailing up to her breasts. Y/n had never felt so safe and secure while simultaneously being so exposed as he pressed another kiss to her lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” Ron cooed, brushing the stray strands of hair that had fallen into her face while continuing his movements on her clit. She couldn’t speak, she could barely breathe as her stomach began to knot and the pressure between her legs grew. She wanted to snap her legs shut as she wriggled beneath him, and as if Ron sensed this he situated himself further between her legs. “Now you promised you’d be a good girl and good girls don’t close their legs now, do they?”

Y/n shook her head frantically, she’d never felt so pathetic. Ever since she joined the paratroopers she had spent every day proving she was tough, she could handle herself and yet by just his touch alone Ronald Speirs had rendered her incapacitated.

A small moan escaped her as Ron’s tongue swirled around her nipple.

“Do you like that, Darling? Tell me you like it.”

“I like it,” Y/n nearly screamed. “Please, I like it. Don’t stop.”

Ron hummed in amusement, repeating the action and earning the same response.

“Please Ron, please I need more,” she whined, fighting against the restraints that held her there. The desperate look in her eyes was all Ron needed. He reached forward, removing the belt and freeing her hands. They immediately landed on the hem of his underwear, pulling at the elastic impatiently but Ron pushed her hands away.

“Not yet my Darling. Remember I told you, tonight is all about you,” Ron pressed a final kiss to her lips, squeezing her hips before he sank beneath the covers out of view.

Y/n had been with men before but none had done anything like this. She gasped, grabbing a fistful of the bedsheets and throwing her head back in an exaggerated groan. Ron linked his arms under her legs, placing them over his shoulders and he continued to trail kisses over her clit. The small licks and nibbles drove her wild. Y/n cried and whimpered, tugging frantically at Ron’s brown locks as the pressure in her stomach continued to build.

“God, Ron I’m so close. I’m so close. Please…” she cried out as the knot came undone and her whole body spasmed. Her legs clamped tightly around Ron’s head but he didn’t seem to notice, choosing to continue to kiss and lick her until the tremors finally subsided and Y/n could breathe again.

He reappeared from beneath the covers, his lips and chin dripping with saliva and a wicked grin on his face. His brown locks fell onto his sweaty forehead as he spoke, “Did you enjoy that my Darling.”

“Yes,” Y/n mumbled, her chest still heaving from the effort of her orgasm.

“Good because I’m only just getting started.”

Y/n let out a guttural moan, pushing herself off the pillows, “Ron, I want you to fuck me.”

She wasn’t sure where the foul language had come from, despite being surrounded by soldiers all the time she rarely swore but now seemed like an appropriate time.

Ron took this as a sign, pushing his boxers down and allowing his desperately hard cock to spring free from its restraint. He reached over to the bedside cabinet, retrieving a condom and rolling it down his cock. Y/n watched in awe of him. Not only was he an attractive man but his body was sculpted like a Greek God and Y/n thanked all those runs up Currehea for that.

Ron pushed her back against the bed, pressing his hips into hers and teasing her once more but the teasing didn’t continue for long and soon he was lining himself up to her entrance.

“Are you ready? If at any point you want me to stop…”

“Ron, please just shut up and fuck me,” Y/n snapped, already too wound up and desperate to keep talking. Ron nodded, pressing his lips securely to hers as he entered. With every inch that pushed inside of her Y/n felt fuller than she ever had before and the ecstasy building within her was stronger than ever.

Once he was inside all the way, Ron allowed her a moment to adjust before pulling out and slamming back into her. His thrusts were relentless and precise. Hitting the exact spot with every thrust and sending Y/n into a frenzy of incoherent phrases as she clawed at his back like a mad woman. Despite the pace he was going, Ron made her feel loved with every thrust, pressing delicate kisses to her ear lobe, whispering to her, a number of ‘I love you’s’ were exchanged too.

“Ron, please… I’m so close,” she cried out, causing Ron to draw in a deep breath. He reached his hand down between their bodies, circling her clit with his thumb once more until she came undone with a loud cry of his name. He grabbed her face, kissing her passionately and silencing the moans as he came undone inside of her.

The pair lay like this for a few moments, sweat trickling down Ron’s spine and his damp hair smeared against his forehead.

“Y/n, Sweetheart, are you alright?” He looked down at her, his eyes full of love and concern.

“I’m perfect,” she replied, reaching up to brush away the stray hairs from his eyes, “Everything is perfect.”

The moment was disturbed by a harsh crashing noise followed by the bedroom door flying open and a very drunk Nixon stumbling into the room.

“SPEIRS?” He shouted, seemingly shocked that Ron was in the room he thought belonged to him.

“SERGEANT Y/L/N?” Nixon started blankly for a few moments before sticking his head out the door.

“HARRY YOU OWE ME 20 BUCKS. I TOLD YOU THEY WERE FUCKING!”

“NIXON!” Ron snapped, glaring harshly at him as he rolled out of Y/n who let out a small moan. “GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Nixon looked at them again before waving his hand and mumbling as he retreated out of the room. The couple fell back onto the bed laughing. Ron pulled off the condom, disposing of it into the bedside bin and moving to get out of bed when Y/n stopped him.

“Wait. Let’s cuddle for a while.” Ron nodded, sighing as he pulled Y/n flush to his chest. Y/n glanced up at him, her face shining pale in the moonlight.

“Ron, next time we have sex, can you please make sure you lock the door.” Ron nodded, sighing as he pulled Y/n flush to his chest.

“Of course my Darling. Anything for you.”

Tags @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @ronald-speirs @sweetxvanixlla @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @allthingsimagines @whollyjoly @bucky32557038ww2 @panzershrike-pretz @malarkgirlypop @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt

#band of brothers #ronald speirs fic #ronald spiers x reader #ronald speirs #band of brothers fic

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blurredcolour · 4 months

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Take These Broken Wings

Dick Winters x Enlisted!Unnamed Female OC/Reader

Trapped behind his desk, Dick finds out the unthinkable has happened to the woman he cares about. Now he has to deal with the consequences; first as her commanding officer and then as the man who loves her.

Warnings: MAJOR Canon Divergence, Angst, Implied Sexual Assault, Descriptions of OC/Reader Injuries, Discussion of Retaliatory Violence, Gentleman's Agreement Not To Prosecute, Period Specific Ideas about Honor and Protection of Women, PTSD, Weapons, Language, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: Self-indulgent canon divergence with little explanation ahead, read at your own risk. Because of the sensitive nature of this fic, I chose to write it in the third person but only a nickname is used so it can be read as a reader fic. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within, particularly the Red Devils in this case!

Special Note: Dearest tag list, I have chosen not to tag any of you because this is so wildly different than my usual fics, I just wasn't sure who would want to read it.

Word Count: 4148

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October 17, 1944 – Schoonderlogt, Holland

It had never been his intention to fall in love with her. With any of the female paratroopers in the 506th, for that matter. But like the slow erosion of a river carving a new path through bare rock, she had ever so gradually hollowed out a place for herself in his heart until all at once he realized he could not live without her. Of course, if one were to ask her, she fell in love with Dick Winters the first day they met in Toccoa, Georgia, sun scorching their skin, blazing his hair copper – or so she liked to remind him often.

His realization had not come until he’d found her halfway up a tree in Normandy, tangled in the lines of her parachute, desperately trying to slice herself free before she was discovered by enemy troops. The sheer panic he had felt as his mind flooded with all the possible ways he could have lost her that night had only served to drive home how deeply he cared for Peaches. Dick didn’t often use the nickname that Nix had bestowed on her; a nickname born of some sordid adventure involving cans of peaches that he’d decided he’d rather not know about. But he did love the way it made her nose crinkle when he slipped it into their stolen moments together. Moments that were becoming harder and harder to find now that he had been placed in charge of 2nd Battalion.

Several pages being laid on his desk by Zielinski tore Dick out of his inner musings and he lifted his pen to add his signature to the line where his Orderly pointed expectantly. Sink had assured him the paperwork would be ‘nothing to sweat’ but Dick was certainly sweating it now. The call of Nixon’s voice as he came up the stairs was a welcome reprieve from the rapidly multiplying stacks of paper on his desk, something that his friend seemed only too happy to point out.

Dick could only feel envy, mixed with trepidation and a certain amount of helplessness, as Heyliger informed him Operation Pegasus was preparing to launch in a matter of hours and he remained trapped in his combination office and bedroom in the attic. As the pair of them made their way down the stairs and out of the requisitioned farmhouse, Dick looked up from his typewriter once more as he heard Nixon’s bright greeting.

“Hey there Peaches, you’ve got something on your face.”

“Very funny Captain. Lieutenant.” He heard her voice reply and did his best not to grin.

“Zielenski, could you go grab a new box of pencils from the storeroom? It’s going to be a long night.” Dick swallowed, doing his best to come up with an excuse for two minutes alone with her, five if he was lucky.

“Yes, sir.” There was a note of confusion in the man’s voice but thankfully he complied, hustling down the stairs.

There was a moment of silence before he heard the door shut followed by the sound of her jump boots scuffing up the worn wooden steps, grinning as she was startled to find him waiting for her at the top of the stairs.

“And here I was thinking I’d surprise you…Who was that?” She glanced back towards the door, and he sighed, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it, how’re you feeling about this thing?” He asked softly, taking her hands in his.

“Should be fine, Moose picked mostly people who can swim, the Canadians are nice. That Colonel Dobie sure is handsome.” She teased lightly, lacing her fingers with his.

Despite her teasing tone, Dick still felt a little annoyed at the comment, particularly given the fact that the man was free to swim the river in reconnaissance and join the operation that night while he was a glorified paper pusher.

“Too bad for him I like ‘em tall as a stalk of corn and copper as a penny.” She leaned in to press her lips to his and Dick felt his eyes fall shut, tension that he’d been carrying for hours slowly ebbing from his body.

She pulled back with a soft smile before frowning apologetically. “Sorry my love I got grease paint on you.” She licked her thumb and swiped at his cheek like he was a grubby toddler, and he could not help the broad grin that stretched his features even as he felt his cheeks heat up at the term of endearment she’d only recently begun to use.

“I’ll get it in a moment, Peaches.” He muttered, glancing around to ensure they were still alone before sliding an arm around her waist to pull her close, kissing her soundly. “Be safe out there…don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…”

“Oh, like run across a field toward two companies of SS by myself?” She narrowed her eyes at him, and he pressed his lips together, still able to hear every word of her displeasure at being left behind for the agonizing seconds it took for the red smoke signal to appear.

“Especially that.” He muttered, clearing his throat and taking a step back as he heard the door open at the bottom of the stairs.

She quickly grabbed her handkerchief and soaked it with water from her canteen, passing it to him so he could scrub at his face, hopefully removing all evidence of their interlude.

“Pencils sir.” Zielenski held out the box proudly and she raised an eyebrow, introducing herself warmly to the Orderly.

“That’ll be all, Sergeant, good luck out there.”

“Thank you sir, appreciate your time.” She replied smoothly, looking completely unaffected while Dick was very aware of the residual heat in his face.

Dick took his time opening the box, watching her back as she slowly descended out of sight until the door closed shut behind her. Sinking into his chair he submitted himself to another few hours of pointing and signing with his Orderly before sending the boy to bed, peering out his window hopefully when a great ruckus arose from one of the barns out back.

Glancing at his watch to confirm it was nearly 0200, he smiled a little to himself as everything seemed to have gone off alright. Rain drops began to sporadically strike the windowpane before the clouds opened into a steady, driving rain. Dick dropped the curtain with a sigh, the room filled with the rhythmic sound of water striking the roof and rolling off the eaves. It was dangerously tempting to lay his head down on his desk and give in to the heaviness in his eyelids, to allow himself to be lulled to sleep. Shaking himself physically, he turned back to yet another report and began striking the keys of his typewriter with a vengeance, hoping to keep himself awake with the racket.

Dick was just spooling a fresh page into place when Nixon was suddenly hurrying up the stairs, followed by Colonel Dobie himself. Both men were wet as drowned rats, but it was the seriousness of their faces that pulled Dick to his feet immediately, securing the pencil from between his teeth into his fist.

“Dick, you remember Colonel Dobie.”

“Yeah…yeah I do…” He replied slowly, trying to ignore the feeling of a sword dangling over their heads as he waited for them to tell him what was going on.

“Terribly sorry to barge in at such a late hour but I wanted to inform you of this incident personally. Well, incidents more precisely. It appears that one of our men, a Holman from Yorkshire, has been severely beaten by a couple of your men from Easy in retaliation for his attack on one of your female soldiers.”

Dick nodded once as he processed the news, heartrate picking up immediately. There were a total of twenty-seven women in 2nd Battalion, but given that it had been only Easy involved in Pegasus, that narrowed it down to a possible nine, of which just a handful had been chosen for the operation. Dick merely had to glance at Nixon to confirm his worst fear. Peaches.

He didn’t realize how tight his grip on the pencil in his hand had grown until the wooden object snapped in two.

“I am willing to consider the matter settled and in need of no further action. The man in question will be returned to England and assigned to some menial duty once he recovers from his injuries.” Dobie continued.

“That will take some time?” Dick asked calmly, despite the searing rage he felt rushing through him.

“Your men were thorough, Captain.” The Colonel replied, grimly.

Dick stood there a moment, eyeing an ink stain that had seeped into the wooden desk top while he was refilling his pen, considering. A beating and unpleasant assignment as punishment for heaven knows what the man had inflicted on her. But to demand more formal proceedings would immediately require testimonies and punishments for the men who had taken it upon themselves to defend her honor. He closed his eyes a moment, vision immediately flooded with her smiling face on one of the blissful outings they had enjoyed during their furlough in England. Forcefully setting the image aside, despite the way it wrenched at his heart to do so, he nodded again. If only to save her further pain.

“Agreed.” Dick offered his hand, Colonel Dobie sealing their agreement with a firm handshake.

Dobie turned to shake Nixon’s hand as well before seeing himself out, Dick waiting until he heard the door close before he spoke again. Two questions on the tip of his tongue, two men inside him, warring for dominance. To his dismay, he had to allow the Battalion’s commanding officer to speak first.

“Who are our vigilantes?”

“Martin and Randleman.” Nixon replied, sitting on one of the folding chairs at the small table in the corner with a heavy sigh. “Moose has them downstairs if you want to talk to them.”

“Yeah. Show them up.”

Nixon leveraged himself out of the chair and was halfway across the attic before he suddenly turned back. “She put that can of peaches in Parkes’ footlocker.”

Dick eyed his friend in confusion, the information seeming utterly irrelevant to their current situation until he suddenly remembered one of Sobel’s impromptu barracks inspections back in Toccoa.

“That dumb bastard wouldn’t leave the women in her squad alone, so she planted it there to get him in trouble – never expected him to get thrown out entirely.” Nixon sighed heavily.

“Where is she?” Dick asked quickly, the words almost melding together in his haste to get them out of his mouth.

“Johnny thinks she’s holed up in the supply barn, I’ll find out.” Nixon replied with a frown and Dick nodded silently, muscles of his jaw clenching almost painfully as he clung to the last vestiges of his focus.

He tossed the broken halves of the pencil onto the desk, frowning at the mess of lead on his palm and pulled the handkerchief from his pocket, frown deepening at the smudges of grease paint there from her face. He clenched the fabric between his fingers as Moose entered the office followed by a hard-faced Martin and a typically laidback Randleman.

“What happened?” He asked plainly, eyeing them expectantly.

Moose stood off to the side, watching Martin and Randleman exchange a look.

“Don’t all talk at once…” Dick prodded calmly, and Martin turned back to him.

“Bull and I were on our way out of the celebration, wanted to beat the rain and get back to our quarters – didn’t work out. Ran into Peaches as we got around the corner of the building. She looked like hell, roughed up, wouldn’t tell me what happened.”

“She just ran, not like her at all, sir.” Randleman chimed in.

“And then that bastard from the Devils, or whatever they call themselves, came around the corner looking all pleased with himself. Adjusting his pants.”

“Knuckles busted up.” Came Randleman’s addition once more.

“Anyway,” Martin continued after a sharp nod of agreement, “it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”

Dick exhaled a slow, measured breath. “I can appreciate why you both did what you did. Next time, and we can only hope we never have to have this conversation again, bring him to Moose, to me. We have systems in place, alright?”

“Sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

“All that said…well done.” Dick said with quiet emphasis, letting his pride and gratitude burn brightly in his gaze. “And you’re both on latrine duty for the next two weeks.” He tacked on because he really had no choice but to punish them.

A pair of smirking salutes was the only response before Moose ushered them out. Dick waited until the count of twenty before sliding the suspenders of his OD pants onto his shoulders, shrugging into his jacket and clapping on his helmet. Grabbing his M1 and flashlight, he quickly made his way down the stairs and out into the persistent deluge toward the supply barn, nearly slamming into Nixon on the way.

“Follow me.” His friend nodded and continued to lead the way, nodding to Liebgott who was standing guard at the door, soaked to the skin.

“Joe.” Dick greeted him, noting the way he had his collar turned up obscuring half his face. The way his hands were shoved deep into his pockets.

It easily could have been in an attempt to protect himself against the elements, but Dick also knew Liebgott was the sort of man to never let anything go unanswered and if he was standing out here in the rain, he was surely more involved than anyone was letting on.

“Peaches is in there, sir. Doc Roe tried to help her, she wouldn’t let him touch her. Thought I’d make sure no one bothered her until she was ready.”

“Good thinking.” Dick swallowed.

He ought to press further, ferret out the truth of Liebgott’s involvement, but standing just outside where she was hiding, the other half of him was very much in charge now – wanting nothing more than to throw the door open and charge in. But by the sounds of it, that approach would be quite unwelcome.

“Why don’t you go warm up for a bit, we’ll take a turn.” Nixon said to Liebgott who looked between the pair of them before nodding in return.

“Thanks, sir.” He agreed, glancing back toward the barn once before jogging off into the night.

Dick waited until they were well and truly alone before slowly opening the door, stepping into the dim space, sliding his helmet from his head. The sound of footsteps retreating into the far corner behind crates of supplies drew his attention and he took a slow breath, calling her name softly.

“It’s me. Dick. I’m here to check on you.”

There was a soft, smothered sound and he clenched his fists, keeping his progress gradual and measured, trying not to make any sudden movements or noises to startle her. As he reached the rear of the barn, he rounded a stack of crates and his heart clenched painfully as his eyes fell on her wedged between a few bundles of blankets and sacks of something it was too dark to read the labels of. Her knees were hugged tightly to her chest, M1 tucked into the crook of her elbow as she eyed him warily in the dark.

Her normally tidy hair was in disarray, and the side of her face that he could see sported a gash across her eyebrow. He took another step closer, the air shuddering from his lungs as she flinched away, pressing tightly into the wall behind her, revealing her split lower lip, the swelling along her left cheekbone, the barely-dried tear tracks on her face.

Dick had never seen her shy away from anything since the day they’d met – not the obstacle course, the rifle range, Currahee, or jumping out of a C-47. For his proximity to garner such a reaction from her felt very much as though she had torn his heart from his breast and stomped it beneath her heel.

Sinking slowly into a crouch, he swallowed before speaking just above a whisper. “Peaches…”

The look of disgust, whether it was at the nickname or at herself – perhaps both, mixed with horror that crossed her face had Dick seriously considering if he had enough time to find Holman before his trip back to England and land a few blows himself. He gently corrected it with her name, teeth grinding together audibly in his skull as she turned her head to the side revealing small knicks at her throat. He’d held her at knife point.

“They’ve already found him. Some of the boys took justice into their own hands, but his superiors know now too.” He tried to reassure her, let her know he was no longer out there, no longer a threat to her.

Dick’s eyes dropped to follow the movement of her fingers as she picked at the torn ends of her nails, several cuts visible on her hands as well. Knowing her she’d probably put up a hell of a fight.

“P–” He stopped himself before he accidentally used the offensive nickname again. “…please you’re hurt. Can I clean you up?” He asked, voice trembling with the emotions he was desperately trying to keep at bay for her sake as he shifted forward onto his knees.

She shook her head violently in response, hugging her limbs tighter to her body, which hadn’t even seemed a possibility until it was done. Dick swallowed painfully, carefully laying his rifle and helmet down on the wooden floor beside him, sitting back on his heels.

“I love you.” He blinked rapidly at the gathering dampness in his eyelashes. “No matter what’s happened, I will always love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

She eyed him skeptically, no words passing between them for a long while. The sound of the persistent rain outside pounding against the roof filled the barn, drowning out the sound of their breathing, until she opened her mouth to speak at last.

“I froze.” She whispered, tone thick with self-loathing as she released her grip on her M1, laying it down beside his before sealing her palm over her mouth.

She began to shake with sobs so ferocious that no sound passed her throat, rendering the smothering effect of her hand unnecessary. Dick felt his heart shatter as he automatically reached for her, wanting nothing more than to pull her close and soothe some of her pain. Her repeated aversion to his touch, however, came flooding back and he froze, arms outstretched and aching to hold her, but wanting to respect her wishes.

The feeling of her body colliding with his chest as she launched herself into his arms punched the air from his lungs for several reasons, nearly sending him toppling over backwards with the force of it. Dick’s arms quickly gathered her onto his lap, one hand rubbing along her spine as her strangled sobs soaked his jacket, her hands clutching at him in return.

“You survived, my love.” He whispered against her hair, deciding he really ought to call her that in kind. It was only fitting for it was exactly how he felt. “You did what you had to do to survive in that moment. Please forgive yourself.”

He felt her shift against his sternum, the shudders wracking her body gradually slowing as she took deeper and deeper breaths, sniffling and wiping at her face carefully.

“Who did you have to yell at?” She murmured wetly, peering up at him cautiously.

“Martin and Randleman. Fairly certain Liebgott is somehow involved as well.” Dick replied softly, fighting back the urge to stroke her face. One step at a time – being allowed to hold her would more than suffice for now.

She sniffed. “Johnny must have figured it out first. I couldn’t even come up with a plausible lie I just…ran away from him outside the party…” Her eyes lowered in shame before she sat up slowly, Dick biting back a frown at the barely concealed wince that crossed her features.

“Nix is outside keeping watch. Can I take you back to CP? Get you cleaned up?” He swallowed, really wanting her to allow Roe to look her over but doubting that would be an option.

She looked to him, eyes suddenly wide with the terror of realization. “Oh god Dick, what if I catch something or…wind up pregnant…oh fuck…” Her face began to crumple, and Dick swallowed, quickly cupping her uninjured cheek hoping to startle her out of that train of thought.

As she jumped and looked to him sharply, he apologized gently. “My love, we don’t know if any of those things will happen. Hopefully they won’t, but no matter what comes next, we’re going to face it together.”

“But Dick I’m–”

“Don’t go and say something melodramatic, now. You’re the woman I love and something horrible has been done to you. It doesn’t change who you are to me.” He replied firmly, swallowing as she stared at him startled for a moment, before nodding slowly. “Now I’m taking you to CP and we’re getting you cleaned up, ok?”

“Should I salute you, Captain?” She raised an eyebrow before wincing and restoring her face to a neutral expression.

He felt his cheeks redden, a sure sign that things would some day return back to normal. That the woman he loved was still with him, she just needed a lot of care right now and he was more than happy to provide it. “That won’t be necessary, Sergeant.” He replied and tried not to smirk as she scoffed slightly in surprise before shifting to her feet slowly.

Dick passed her rifle to her before grabbing his own, rising to his feet and sliding his helmet on his head. He offered his hand to her, swallowing back his sigh of relief as she laced her battered fingers through his and followed him out through the maze of supplies to where Nixon was still waiting in the rain.

“Christ, Peaches…” He breathed when she came into view and Dick shot him a sharp look, trying, too late, to stop him using the nickname.

“Son-of-a-bitch ruined the nickname, Nix. I trust you to come up with a new one.” She sighed, sounding positively exhausted, and Nixon nodded quickly in reply.

“Noted. You sure you’re alright?” He asked softly and she shook her head.

“No. But someday, maybe.” She replied honestly and Nixon nodded empathetically as Dick squeezed her hand gently.

“Let’s get out of this rain.” He led the three of them back into the farmhouse, taking her straight to the washroom where he filled the basin with water. “Help or no?”

She paused a moment, staring at her reflection in the cracked mirror left behind by the home’s original owners and Dick waited patiently until she turned back to him. “I can do it.” She replied softly and he nodded, closing the door to wait in the hall.

Nixon shuffled by carrying his pillow and Dick raised an eyebrow. “Give her my bed, I’ll take your crappy little cot.” He muttered, making his way to the attic before he even had the chance to reply.

The ghost of a smile crossed his lips as he leaned his head back against the wall, thoroughly spent by the events of the day, knowing he’d have to be up in just a few hours to face the rest of the paperwork on his desk.

“Dick?” Her soft voice startled him, making him realize he’d actually fallen asleep standing up, for just a moment.

Her lips twitched slightly with a hint of amusement, and he smiled slightly in return, nodding as she looked more herself despite the still-fresh injuries.

“This way.” He offered his hand and led her towards Nixon’s room, gesturing at the bed. “Gift from Lew.”

Her face softened, eyes glistening suddenly, reminding Dick just how fragile she still was. “Where is he sleeping?”

“Attic.”

“Then you need a bed too…” She replied as she crawled onto the mattress, sighing at the softness of the bedding.

“Oh, the floor is fine I…”

“Please hold me.” Her voice was small, her request simple and one that he did not need to hear twice to honor.

He unlaced his boots and removed his outer layers before crawling in with her, letting her curl up against him before sliding his arm around her carefully. “Comfortable?” He asked in a hushed voice.

“Very.” She replied sleepily and he allowed himself to drift, listening to the rise and fall of her breath, letting sleep nibble at the edges of his consciousness.

“Dick?” She whispered and he snuffled awake quickly.

“Yeah?”

“Does it smell like pee in here?”

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

Band of Brothers Masterlist

#dick winters x reader #dick winters x oc #dick winters imagines #dick winters imagine #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers fic #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers #tw sa implied #tw assault #tw sa

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softguarnere · 8 months

Text

Passed Me a Note Saying, "Meet Me Tonight"

Floyd Talbert x reader

A/N: Hey there @typical-simplelove 😁I was the person chosen to write you a story for the HBO War Daily Short Story Exchange! It's my first time writing a fic with Tab, so I hope it turned out okay and that you like it! 💕 Word Count: 846 Warnings: brief mention of war

It’s smooth – just like him.

Passing you in one of the hallways, Talbert smiles at you as he approaches. To anyone watching, the gesture seems friendly enough. But somehow, even with Nixon – of all people – walking with you, Talbert manages to press the slip of paper into your hand without detection. When you feel the edge of the folded paper poke your palm, you can barely suppress your smile until you’re alone.

Meet me tonight, the note says in Tab’s handwriting.

The rest of the day can’t pass quickly enough. Still, you try to pace yourself. You attend meetings, diligently taking notes for Colonel Sink and typing up letters as you normally would. Maybe your foot taps a bit impatiently under the table – but if anyone notices, they have the decency not to point it out. Besides, you keep having to remind yourself, Talbert is just a friend.

“Is there a reason that you’re risking losing your pass over fraternizing with me, Floyd?”

At the sound of your voice, Talbert glances up, smiling at you. He smiles at a lot of girls. You can’t help but wonder if the smiles that he throws their way are this bright, though.

Talbert extends a hand to you. Without hesitation, you take it, and he leads you to the edge of the huge, sprawling camp. “Didn’t want you to miss this.”

Through the trees, dusk is setting in. Humidity rises from the day’s heat, turning the atmosphere a soft shade of blue. A few last golden rays of sunlight are softening now, fading into the clouds as the bright orb sinks below the horizon. After a moment, in the distance far above, a few twinkling lights emerge in the darkening sky. The scene, this transition from day to night, is beautiful. It probably looks just as pretty as this every evening, but you’re ashamed to realize that if that’s true, you’ve never noticed it before. But Talbert did.

Another realization hits you at the same time: he’s still holding your hand.

His skin is warm and soft against yours. Maybe you should say nothing, at the risk of ending this moment too soon.

“This is beautiful,” you whisper.

He turns to you, his smile as bright as the stars. “I thought you might like that.”

Hands still joined, you squeeze his. He looks down, eyes widening as he comes to the same conclusion that you did a few moments before. “I like this,” you say.

. . .

The war might be over, but its conclusion has brought you nothing but a flurry of time sensitive paperwork. Still, if one good thing has happened, it’s that the rules barely apply in Austria these days, and no one seems to have a problem with Talbert stopping in to visit you. The handsome paratrooper sitting on the corner of your desk, cracking jokes, flashing those striking smiles at anyone who passes by, becomes a common sight in the office. If you can’t be out there having a good time with everyone else, you’re grateful that you get to spend time with him in here.

It's getting late. Even the colonel has turned in for the night. Aside from the clacking of the keys on your typewriter as you diligently finish typing up a letter for him, the building that has been commandeered for these offices is quite – except for the sound of approaching footsteps.

Footsteps that you would recognize anywhere. You smile before you even glance up, even hear his voice call out to you in greeting.

“You’re brave, (Y/N),” Talbert says. “Being alone in here.”

You sit back in your chair, smiling. “I was just waiting for you.” It’s been so long ago now that you can’t be sure if he remembers that evening in Toccoa, but you do. You incline your head toward a door behind you that leads out to a balcony. “I want to show you something.”

Outside, the soft glow of the stars that light the sky are diminished by the lights of the city down below. Like stars fallen to earth, the buildings are lit up with soldiers staying up late, celebrating the day they’ve waited years for. You noticed the scene a few evenings before, on another day of industriously working late. It had reminded you of that evening, all that time ago. Not the same scene you once enjoyed together, but beautiful in its own way. But really, everything beautiful reminds you of Tab.

“Didn’t want you to miss this,” you say, a callback.

Floyd smiles, and you know then that he remembers, too. On cue, he squeezes your hand. “It’s beautiful. Like you.”

You smile, no longer having to hide affections like that; not after everything the two of you have been through in this war. “I thought you might like that.”

He leans in, close, so that even in the darkness you can make out his every feature. “I like this,” he says, then closes the gap between you.

This, you think as he kisses you, is more beautiful than even the stars.

#hbowarshort23 #floyd talbert #floyd talbert x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers fanfic #my writing

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mads-weasley · 9 months

Text

Epiphany Pt. 3: Haunted

Lewis Nixon x Reader

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: hey guys!! i had originally planned for operation market garden to be one chapter, but there were just too many things that i wanted to add, so it will be split up into at least two! hbo owns the rights, and this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Summary: Things aren't as cut and dry as they seem when Easy jumps into Holland for Operation Market Garden, and (y/n) faces a heartbreaking reality.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: slightly graphic mistreatment of women (eindhoven scene)

SEPTEMBER 13, 1944: ALDBOURNE, ENGLAND

The pub was alive, bustling with half-drunken paratroopers when (y/n) arrived with Skip, Alex, and Don. They were missing their fifth member who they spotted across the bar playing darts with Buck.

“How much money do ya’ think he’s lost?” Skip asked, snickering as they made their way through the crowd to an empty table.

(Y/n) grimaced. “As long as he’s not asking me for a loan again, I don’t care. He still owes me $20.”

“Ehh, you’re probably not gonna get that back, (y/n/n), Penkala laughed, throwing an arm over her shoulder. “You should know George well enough by now.”

“Well, the first twenty bucks he gets is mine tonight, boys.”

Finding a booth in the corner, Don, Skip, and (y/n) plopped down while Alex went to get them drinks. They looked around the room and observed some of Bull’s new squad replacements sitting nearby.

“They don’t look older than twelve,” Skip scoffed, shaking his head.

Don smacked the side of his head, rolling his eyes. “Skip, you don’t look much older than twelve, alright, so ease up.”

“You’re telling me you don’t even feel a litt-”

“No,” (y/n) interrupted. “I don’t. They’re here the same reason we are.”

Before Skip could argue back, Alex returned with their drinks, and the first thing (y/n) did was gulp hers. To her dismay, Alex had started to ramble about the replacements to Skip, and the pair picked up right where she’d cut him off. With a sigh, she got up and walked over to George, Buck, Toye, and a replacement, who were crowded around the dartboard. They all watched Buck as he lined up a shot.

“Here we go. One shot. Here we go,” he muttered to himself.

When she slid into the space beside George, he smirked with a wink, nodding toward Buck, as if to say, ‘Look at this.’

“Lieutenant,” he began. “You gonna shoot lefty all night?”

Toye and the red-headed replacement’s faces fell, and (y/n) took a sip of her drink to hide her smirk.

Joe looked between George and Buck in disbelief. “Hey, come on,” He groaned.

“Just curious,” George continued, “‘Cause he’s right-handed.”

A sly smile grew on Buck’s face as he switched sides and lined up his shot. “George. What would I do without George Luz?”

The group watched as the dart left Buck’s hand and hit the bullseye dead on.

“Boop!”

Collective groans came from Joe and the replacement at George’s antics as he turned to the men. “Goodness, gracious!”

“Two packs, gentlemen,” Compton announced, holding out his hand.

“I know you’ve got them. Pay up.”

Joe looked at (y/n) who was still smirking into her drink. “You gonna let them screw us like that, (y/n)?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I didn’t see anything, Joe.”

Rolling his eyes, Toye grumbled as he placed a pack of cigarettes in Buck’s outstretched hand before walking off. The replacement approached (y/n) with a nervous smile, and she had to agree with Skip that he did look twelve, even if he towered over her.

“Heffron,” he introduced, holding out his hand. “Babe Heffron. Nice to meet you. The guys have told me nothing but great things.”

She shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Babe. You’re in Bull’s squad, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Raising her eyebrows, (y/n) snorted. “Ma’am makes me sound like an old woman. Call me (y/n).”

“Yes, ma’a-, I mean, (y/n),” he corrected, his face turning crimson.

Seeing the flash of a familiar silver flask near the door, (y/n) nodded at Babe. “It was nice meeting you, Heffron. You’re in good hands with Bull.”

She found him sitting at a table with Harry Welsh, who looked more tipsy than usual. “(Y/n). Speak of the devil. We wer-”

Nix’s eyes widened, and he kicked Harry discreetly under the table. “You meet the new replacements?” He asked as if Welsh hadn’t spoken.

Raising an eyebrow, she sat in the empty seat beside Lew. “What was that, Lieutenant?”

“Uhh, we were gonna ask you about the replacements,” he replied slowly, glancing at Nix for confirmation.

Though she didn’t understand Harry’s odd behavior, she didn’t push it. “They seem nice. I’ve just met Heffron after George and Buck conned him playing darts.”

Lew took a swig of his flask, throwing an arm on the back of (y/n)’s chair, his fingertips lightly brushing her shoulder. “Bull will take care of them,” he began. “He’s a good sergeant.”

(Y/n) nodded, unsure of her voice at his subtle touch. One touch and she was down for the count. Thinking back to D-Day and the way he held her, heat spread through her. She looked down at the drink in her hand and realized she needed a refill.

“I’ll be right back. I’m gonna get another drink,” she announced, getting up from her seat.

Lew got up, too, grabbing his signature flask. “I’ll come with. Harry, don’t cause too much trouble while we’re gone, alright?”

He rolled his eyes, shooing them away with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, yeah. Go on. I’ll survive.”

The duo made their way for the crowd before leaning against the bar.

“I thought you only drink VAT-69,” she questioned, motioning to the barkeep for two beers.

Nix faced her, his eyes scanning her face. “My supply is running low, so I’ve gotta cut back until I can get some more.”

The bartender returned with two beers and she gratefully took them, returning to their table with Nix in tow. As soon as they sat down, he placed his arm around her chair once again, and she took a big sip of her drink, knowing she would need it to make it through the night.

“So, how’s the officer’s life treating you two?” She asked, trying to hide the blush that crept up her neck.

Harry took a deep breath. “Well…”

An hour and a few drinks later, (y/n) was throwing her head back in laughter at something Harry said. Nix just chuckled beside her, knowing she was drunk due to the fact Harry’s comment wasn’t funny at all.

Her head felt as if was stuffed with cotton, and the world was tilted slightly off its axis, but regardless, she was chatting away with the two Lieutenants.

“Ya’know,” she giggled, waving her hands around emphatically. “Kitty’s a lucky gal ‘ta have ya, Har. Outta all-”

Her hand caught a glass and sent it flying, beer spilling across the table.

“Oh no.”

Lew stood up and gently grasped her elbow, helping her to her feet. “Come on, doll. You’ve had enough.”

“Lewis,” she whined. “I’m not drunk.”

His chuckled. “Really?”

“Uh, ‘yeh.”

“Okay,” he smirked, pointing behind her. “Try to walk to Luz.”

(Y/n) nodded and wobbly took one, two, three steps before tilting to her right, arms flailing. Luckily, Lew was ready and caught her by her waist effortlessly.

“I guess I am drunk,” she murmured into his shoulder.

Her attempt gained the attention of her squadmates who still sat at the same table from hours earlier. Don and George walked over, faces painted with concern.

“She alright?” Luz asked with a grimace.

“Yeah. She’s just a lightweight,” Nixon smirked, glancing down at the woman in his arms. “I’m gonna take her home.”

Lifting her head off his shoulder, she looked up at him. “Already there,” she whispered to herself.

To her dismay, Don had heard it, and the man’s eyes became saucers as he realized what she meant. Everything clicked in his head.

“Yeah,” he smiled. “I’ll get someone to check on her in the morning.”

With a curt nod, Nix led her out of the pub and was hit with a wave of sharp, chilly air that had her huddling closer to him. He had a secure hand around her waist, keeping her upright as they walked down the cobblestone streets of Aldbourne.

“You alright down there?” He asked, squeezing her hip gently.

(Y/n) basked in his warmth. “I like it when you hold me.”

The man got choked up on his saliva and coughed a few times at her confession.

“Well,” he began slowly, staring down at her, the moonlight illuminating her face. “I like to hold you.”

“Why?”

A smile formed on his lips. “You can ask me when you’re sober, but I doubt you’ll remember any of this, sweetheart.”

She nodded once against his shoulder as they turned onto her street. Aldbourne was a quiet town, especially on a Sunday night. It was easy for one to find themselves getting lost in their thoughts. The soft glow from windows reflecting off the pavement felt like home, even if they were thousands of miles away from theirs.

In different circumstances, Lew could envision him and (y/n) on their way home from a night dancing or movie picture, giggling as young couples do, oblivious to the horrors of the world. But that wasn’t reality. They’d seen the horrors firsthand, and he envied the people who lived and loved in times of peace.

A soft voice broke him from his thoughts. “Thanks.”

Looking up and realizing they’d arrived at her billet, he reluctantly let go of her. He felt the loss of her warmth and reached out to take her hand. “Drink some water, alright? I can’t have you being grumpy tomorrow because you’re hungover.”

She smiled blearily, squeezing his hand. “Thanks for ev’rythin, Lew.”

In a moment of weakness, he sighed and tugged her closer. As Lew’s strong arms wrapped gently around (y/n)’s frame, he felt her heart beating through her chest, as if it were trying to send him a message. The scent of her hair, a delicate mix of her shampoo, and the evening breeze intoxicated his senses. All he could think about was the woman in his arms. Standing there in the warm embrace of a quiet, moonlit night, it was as if the war wasn’t raging around the world. But just as quickly as it had begun, the hug came to an end. They pulled away, eyes meeting for a fleeting moment as if searching for answers in each other’s gaze.

“G’nigh,” she giggled, walking towards her door with unsteady steps.

“Night, sweetheart,”

Once the door had closed and he heard the familiar click of the lock, he backed up onto the street shaking his head with a bashful smile.

“I’m in trouble,” he chuckled, making his way back to the bar.

September 14, 1944: ALDBOURNE, ENGLAND

(Y/n) awoke with a groan, hearing dull raps from the front door beneath her. Each knock was like a drum banging inside her skull as she made her way down the stairs. The family she was staying with was on a weekend vacation, and she was thankful their children wouldn’t see her so hungover.

(Y/n) opened the door, squinting at the bright sunlight. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah,” a kind voice replied. Lip.

Her eyes widened. “Sorry, Car, I didn’t realize it was you.”

“It’s alright,” he began softly. “You weren’t at the pub last night, so I wanted to let you know we’re moving out again.”

Already?.

“Okay. Thanks, Lip,” (y/n) nodded, eyes sinking to the floor as she closed the door.

Great.

September 17, 1944: Operation Market Garden

As Easy Company sat in ditches along the road to Eindhoven, an eerie silence hung in the air. Sure, Allied intelligence suspected the Krauts in the country were mostly old men and kids, but the paratroopers were on their toes, ready for whatever would come next.

(Y/n) was sandwiched between George and Skip, who were grumbling back and forth about a failed darts game the night before.

“Will you two shut up, please?” She laughed softly. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

George smirked, adjusting his helmet. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

A squadron of Allied aircraft roared overhead, and soon after, they approached the town. A window opened, and (y/n) motioned for everyone to get down as she crouched beside a fence. The person pulled out a long orange banner and tied it around the window.

“Okay, hold your fire,” Bull appeared behind them, cigar hanging from his lips.

Staring at the town above her M-1 sight, a deep pang of worry shot through her stomach. Something didn’t feel right.

The paratroopers couldn’t believe their eyes as the people of Eindhoven celebrated their liberation from the German occupation. Bright orange flags flew from every window, and (y/n) found herself smiling at the pure joy that oozed from the town.

(Y/n) and George had gotten separated from the rest of their squad in the crowd as they dodged kisses from the locals. Well, (y/n) dodged their kisses. After a few girls tried to land a smooch on her lips, she removed her helmet, showing she was a woman. Soon the town's men caught on and were trying to do the same.

She tried to push through the crowd as quickly as possible staving off any attempts from them. Looking behind her, she groaned at the empty spot where George had been. “George,” she called, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Luz! Come on!”

A few seconds later, he appeared to her right, fresh red lipstick smeared across his lips that were quirked into a wide grin.

“Gosh, (y/n). Can’t a guy have some fun?” He joked, wiping his mouth with his hand.

Turning around, she rolled her eyes and made her way through an opening in the crowd only to be pulled to the side by her arm. “Hey!”

A familiar Philly accent filled her ears. “Come get in this picture, (y/n)!”

Babe pulled her through the crowd, and George followed, kissing as many girls as he could along the way.

“There they are!” Chuck yelled, throwing his arm around a blonde.

George and Babe stood behind a few kids wearing orange hats and waving flags, all smiling from ear to ear. A wide smile grew on (y/n)’s face as she knelt beside the kids, placing her helmet on the little girl's head beside her. The helmet tipped down, covering the girl’s face except for her crooked, snaggle-toothed smile. (Y/n) quickly fixed it for her, and to her surprise, the little girl threw herself in the woman’s arms. Fighting off tears, she sniffled and hugged the girl back before pointing to the camera.

“Smile, everybody!” (Y/n) announced.

The picture was taken with a click, and (y/n)’s eyes wandered to the left of the cameraman.

She froze, her face falling. Time slowed as she watched the scene unfold before her. A local woman with long, flowing chestnut hair and a confident stride approached Lew. (Y/n) squinted to get a better look, her heart pounding. She watched in disbelief as the stranger reached up and placed a hand on Lew’s cheek, drawing him closer. The world around (y/n) seemed to blur as the stranger’s lips met Lew’s, and they kissed, and he didn't pull away.

Time seemed to stand still for (y/n). She couldn’t comprehend what she was witnessing. Her mind raced with questions.

Why was Lew kissing her?

Her hands clenched into fists, and tears welled up in her eyes. (Y/n) felt like a statue, unable to move or speak as the painful scene played out before her. She knew she had no right to be jealous, but not so deep down, she wished it were her instead. Her heart ached, and her stomach churned with anger, jealousy, and sadness.

George tapped her shoulder, his brows furrowed. “(Y/l/n)? You alright?”

Following her line of sight, he found what she was fixated on and softly sighed.

“He’s an idiot, (y/n/n). Come on,” he murmured, hoisting her up by her arm.

She stood and blinked away angry tears that filled her vision. She knew she had no right to be jealous, but not so deep down, she wished it were her.

A small voice below her broke her train of thought. “Dank,” the little girl nodded, holding out (y/n)’s helmet. She forced a smile and took it from the girl.

George tugged her arm softly, pulling her in the opposite direction of Nix. She blindly followed in a haze, her mind muddied with hurtful thoughts. Townsfolk grabbed at her jacket as she and George made their way to the main town square where 2nd platoon was meeting.

She was snapped out of her mind by the sound of screams. Her head moved on a swivel trying to find the sound’s source. Spotting a circle of citizens up ahead, she pushed past George quickly, squeezing her way through a few men to see inside the circle.

Before her, half-naked women were on their knees, crying as their hair was roughly shaved, leaving them with blood streaking down their necks and faces. Two Dutch resistance fighters bumped past (y/n) with another petrified woman in their arms. They threw her down and began to rip the clothes off her body. (Y/n)’s eyes narrowed as a burning sensation filled her chest.

“Hey!” She cried, shoving one of them away from the woman. “That’s enough!”

The man recovered swiftly, but (y/n) didn’t give up. Unable to bend her to his will, he resorted to dirty tactics, shoving her forcefully and causing her to stumble and fall to the hard cobblestone street with a thud.

“Stomme meid,” he spat.

Stupid girl.

Her unclasped helmet skidded a few feet away as her head came in contact with the road. The impact knocked the wind out of her, leaving her momentarily gasping for breath.

For a few seconds, everyone’s eyes were on the (y/n), then all hell let loose. Easy’s men were trying to get to her with enraged shouts but were unable to get through the crowd. With great effort, (y/n) pushed herself up off the ground, her face flushed but her spirit unbroken. She looked the man squarely in the eyes, refusing to show fear despite the pain in her chest.

The man leered down at her with a smirk as he switched to heavily accentuated English. “Maybe we should teach you a less-”

(Y/n) lost all self-control as her arm reeled back ready to swing, but someone grabbed it tightly and tried to pull her away from the man. Seeing a flash of dark hair, she knew it was him, and her fury only grew. (Y/n) resisted, her heart pounding with adrenaline.

“No, Nix!” She protested, her voice filling with fiery determination. She wriggled free from his grasp for a moment, her eyes still locked onto the resistance fighters. “Let go of me! They can’t do this! We can’t let them do this!”

He stepped in front of (y/n), blocking her view of the confrontation, and looked deeply into her eyes. “(Y/n), I know, all right? I wish we could, but we can’t do anything about it.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, she tried to push past him only to hear a tone he had never used with her before.

“Stop! That’s an order, (y/l/n),” he gritted, his heart squeezing in his chest at the words.

(Y/n) stared at the Officer in disbelief.

How dare he not help these poor women?

Tears filled her eyes for the second time that day as she took one more look at the poor woman on the ground. “I’m sorry,” she whispered before shoving her way back through the crowd.

Lew’s eyes followed her until she disappeared into the mob. Sighing, he ran a hand down his face.

What a difference a few days can bring.

One of the men behind him spoke. “She’s a lively one, no?”

“Shut it,” Nix snapped, scooping (y/n)’s discarded helmet off the street.

When he found Dick, Harry, and Buck, he handed the helmet to her platoon leader. “It’s (y/n)’s.”

Buck took it with a nod as the four officers watched the British Armored Division come rumbling down the street.

It was going to be a long operation.

Tag List: @softguarnere @mrsgeorgeluz @flowers-and-fichte @inglourious-imagines @peggyvan @rebeccapearson @hxad-ovxr-hxart @im-chinese-believe-it-or-not @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @titiglt @stvrkdream @multifandomfanfic

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inglourious-imagines · 1 year

Text

Beers, Tomato, and Suspenders (Lewis Nixon X GN!Reader)

Prompts: 106 – Neither one of us is drunk enough for this conversation. & 109 – I saw that. You just checked me out.

Summary: Before D-Day. Two conversations take place, one with your best friend George Luz, the second with your (perhaps, perhaps not) friend Lewis Nixon. What can come out of this?

Warnings: some f words

Author’s Note: Long time no see, my friends! I’m sorry for being MIA for so long. Anyway, consider this some sort of a comeback 😊. There have ended up some BoB smut requests in my inbox so to inform you, I’m not writing smut, at least not yet, for I do not feel comfortable doing so. I apologise to the people who came to me through my inbox to ask me some questions, sorry I wasn’t able to answer them.

-> Also does anyone know how to edit masterlist (or any other old post actually) after some time? I'm not able to update my masterlist or just simply edit a list of fandoms. Help is greatly appreciated! Thank you!

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @teenmagazines @meteora-fc @eugenesmorphine @band-of-brothers-cz @real-fans @not-john-watsons-blog @tealaquinn @ok-roemanov @mrseasycompany @punkgeekchic @wexhappyxfew @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @rayofshanshine @mavysnavy @easynix @georgeluzwarmhugs @easy-company-tradition @immrsronaldspeirs @snafus-peckuh @curraheewestandalone @warrior-healer @justamadgirlinabox @happyveday @order-of-river-phoenix @whoahersheybars

“Okay, we have a few more days before we’re moving out and you still haven’t done anything about your big fat crush on-“

“Shut the fuck up, Luz!” you exclaim, covering his mouth with yours. He laughs at your somewhat childish behaviour, but then he licks your hand so you would pull it away and also to annoy you even more so the fight over who’s more immature is clearly won by him again.

“You are disgusting,” you say, but your lips slowly form a soft smile – the situation is quite ridiculous; two paratroopers discussing one’s crush in the middle of a bar somewhere in Britain, while other paratroopers around them are getting blind drunk. “And I do not intend to do anything about it.”

George pouts, clearly he is more than excited to see you hit on someone, the need for some entertainment overwhelms him and you are sure that once you would have gotten up from your chair, Liebgott and Tab would be immediately by Luz’s side, cheering you on and closely watching the situation unfold. But you remain sitting, and George has to turn to his beer instead.

“But why?” he presses on, once he finishes his glass of that golden liquid and sets it down on the wooden bar. “Tab has some classified information that Lewis Nixon is over the heels for you.” That makes you laugh out loud, and soon enough George joins you but for another reason completely – he laughs because someone else is laughing and he’s drunk, you laugh because that sentence alone sounded so ridiculous that you simply could not react in any other way.

George doesn’t bring up the topic anymore, but he remains at your side as if he knows something you don’t. You sing with Floyd, you play cards with Malarkey and Muck, you have a contest about who downs a beer faster with Toye (you win but Joe swears he’ll challenge you soon enough and this time for money for he is sure that he’ll be the winner). You try to stay away from drinking too much alcohol; those two beers, one with George and one with Joe, plus the one shot with Eugene (which you practically coerced him into drinking – who could have said no when the toast was to victory?) is pretty much the only liquor flowing in your veins.

For a moment, George excuses himself (“When I drink, I always have to piss all the fucking time. I hate it.”) and you find yourself on your own behind the bar, wondering whether another beer is a good idea until someone interrupts your thoughts. “Hey Joe, get me a pint, would ya?”

You’ve spent so much time daydreaming about that voice, that by now you can recognize it anytime, anywhere, in your sleep, in your dreams, from meters away. You turn your head to your favourite intelligence officer and you’re suddenly glad you have not ordered that beer because you would have probably choked on it for Lewis Nixon just looks so good in just the green trousers, green shirt, and those damn suspenders. While he waits for his drink (apparently, he’s all out of Vat69 when he’s opted for beer), he slips his one arm under one part of the suspenders, then his other arm, and the suspenders fall down from his shoulders, hanging now from his hips from their clips on his trousers. This simple action, that takes not more than few seconds, leaves you breathless, you could watch him just be his self for hours on end and never get tired from the sight.

“I saw that,” he suddenly turns to you, “you just checked me out.”

Now you would have definitely choked on that beer. Your cheeks redden immediately, you know exactly how you look (like a fucking tomato, that’s for sure) and you struggle really hard to find an excuse because it’d be obvious even to a blind person that you were downright staring at him.

“I did not.” you state as sternly as you could, but Nixon smiles and for some reason unknown to you, he does not go away but rather orders another beer that lands before you in a moment.

Lexis is apparently pleased at how flustered he can make you, he is enjoying it to his bones, so he does not stop teasing you. “Yes, yes, you did.” A bigger smile now adorns his face, and you have to fight really hard to not smiling again because his joy is so contagious.

“No, I did not. If anything, you were checking me out.” you try to spin the conversation in another way and to your surprise (and later pleasure) it works for Lewis steps a little closer to you and responds. “Well, I did not really try to hide it, did I.”

It’s more of a statement than a question and for the second time in about three minutes you are blushing again like a teenager.

Nixon goes on. “And at least I can admit it.”

Your head is spinning, you quite can’t comprehend that this is what you are talking about with Nix, and he just stands so close to you, you could touch his army shirt if you desired to, the urge to run your fingers through his messy hair is storming you and you find yourself in need of a fresh air. But you don’t step away, you wouldn’t dare to because this type of breathlessness just feels good.

So, you opt to play his little game. “Neither one of us is drunk enough for this conversation.”

Lewis’s eyes sparkle. He takes his beer in one hand, yours in other and nods his head in the direction where the doors out of the bar are. “Maybe we should fix that.”

Finally you smile at him, you know he knows you won’t decline the offer, but it doesn’t bother you one bit. “The conversation or our not-drunken state?”

Lewis grins at you in his own special mischievous way and he knows you know what the answer will be, but it doesn’t bother him one bit. “How about both?”

#lewis nixon imagine #lewis nixon x reader #lewis nixon #lewis nixon imagines #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagines #hbo war #imagine #fanfic #band of brothers #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers oneshot #george luz #george luz imagine

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malarkgirlypop · 8 months

Text

Warriors (Edward Tipper x F!Reader) Part 1

Hey hey! This is requested by @lenabob, thank you so much for letting me write this for you. I hope you enjoy it. This is the first part and there will be a second part coming. It was interesting to do Tipper he isn't a big character in the show but re-watching it he does pop up a fews more times than I expected, and now I love him as well. He's a cutie. I like his nose, idk why but I do. This is based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters no hate to any of the men who served.

***

“Who is she?” The men whisper about Y/N like she’s not even there. She fidgets under their watchful gaze. She’s never been one to stand out in the crowd. Growing up with three other older sisters who were always told they were beautiful and perfect. She couldn’t quite fit into the mould that her sister left for her though. Y/N never stuck around inside too long, finding activities like playing with babies and dolls boring. Y/N enjoyed running around pretending she was a warrior in a magical land. She was a knight sworn to protect the kingdom, and she would do just that. Her Mother did not see it fit for a young girl to be playing in the dirt outside pretending to sword fight imaginary creatures, always trying to put her in pretty dresses. The dresses never lasted long though, it was hard work defending the kingdom and a dress was not best suited for the vigorous activities. Her Father on the other hand enjoyed the more tom-boyish daughter, as he always had wanted a son. Her Father decided that she would be the son he never had. Being a veteran himself he would take Y/N out to the shooting range, teaching her how to shoot with all different types of guns. When Pearl Harbour was bombed Y/N knew that this was her chance to defend her kingdom in real life. She had signed up for the Army immediately, to her Father’s delight and her Mother’s disgust. However the Army did not see her fit to be a soldier and passed on her admission to a different branch. This kept happening to Y/N, after receiving so many letters rejecting her, she had become disheartened. Then one afternoon as she laid on her bed imagining being able to serve her country like she had always dreamed, her Father burst through her door waving a letter in the air. She had made it. The acceptance had come from the Paratrooper branch of the army, it was new, never been done before. Now here she was unpacking her bags in Camp Toccoa. She was ecstatic when she had arrived but her excitement was slowly eaten away by nerves. She didn’t see any other female recruits, the men as she walked through the campground had all stared and pointed as she made her way to the barracks. She had to brush them off though, she was here for herself and her dream, these men would not stand in her way. So that was her goal to be the best of the best and prove to these men she was not some meek woman. She was assigned to Easy company, and goddammit how the odds were not in her favour. Easy company was under the direction of Captain Sobel, a hard headed asshole, who had no problem working them to the bone. Easy company had become notorious for having no weekend passes due to the lovely Captain Sobel. He would make them stand in the hot Georgia sun in full gear sweating their asses off. His loud voice travelled through the Camp and could be heard from the other side.

“You people are at the position of attention.” Sobel boomed as he marched down the line of soldier’s. Eyes forward, chin up. Thought Y/N, don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself. Y/N grew more nervous as Sobel walked down the line closer to where she was standing.

“Private Perconte, have you been blousing your trousers over your boots like a Paratrooper?” Sobel asks Frank Perconte as he presents his gun for inspection.

“No, sir.” Frank answers, as Sobel towers over the short man.

“Then explain the creases at the bottom.” Sobel retorted. Frank's face remained neutral.

“No excuse, sir.” He replied. Sobel takes Frank’s mistake to lecture him.

“Volunteering for the parachute infantry is one thing, Perconte, but you’ve got a long way to prove that you belong here. Your weekend pass is revoked.” The silent groan can be felt from the other men. Y/N bites her lip, sighing internally, Sobel seems to be in the best mood ever yay, sarcasm dripping off of her thoughts. Sobel trails down the line, picking out the men and revoking their passes. Sobel stops in front of Liebgott who stands in front of Y/N. She holds her breath pretending to be a statue so that Sobel won’t notice her. Sobel enjoys one thing punishing Easy company, but one thing he enjoys even more is picking on Y/N. Being the only female in the whole camp, Sobel seems to see her as an achilles heel. He thinks that the higher up’s were out to get him, by giving him the only female private. After Sobel finishes yelling at Liebgott his eyes lock onto Y/N.

“Name?” Sobel asks like he isn't familiar with the female private.

“Y/L/N, Y/N, sir.” She says as she presents her gun to the Captain. He looks her up and down trying to find an imperfection to pick out. But she ensured that everything was polished perfectly before leaving the barrack. Ha! Nothing to find there Sobel. Y/N smirked internally.

“That top looks too big for you, private.” Sobel yells in her face.

“It’s the smallest size they offer, sir.” She says back calmly, looking over his shoulder, not making eye contact with the man.

“Well you're a girl, why don’t you sew it and make it smaller.” Her jaw ticks, he always makes comments like this, little digs to get under her skin. The first day he had met her he asked her if she was lost and that girlfriends weren’t allowed to come on camp to visit. Even though she was in full uniform.

“Sorry, sir.” She replied.

“Pass revoked, Y/N.” He hissed in her ear. Sobel yells at the men that they aren’t fit for war. Then in good old Sobel fashion revokes everyone's weekend passes.

“Get into your PT gear, we’re running Currahee.” Screams the man as he marches away. Leaving Winters to direct us, giving us two minutes to get ready for the run.

Y/N’s lungs scream and legs ache as she ascends Currahee. She enjoys the burn, the climb is tiring but she is one of the fitter privates in the infantry. 3 miles up and 3 miles down. Y/N runs next to Liebgott, they don’t speak as they run, but knowing another person is also in the same boat physically gives them a boost of energy. As she makes the top she spots Sobel standing there with his timer glaring at the men. She scrambles up the last bit putting her hand on the sundial, as she turns to go back down the hill she just ran. She collides with another human, sending her on her ass. The man helps her up to her feet.

“Sorry.” She pants.

“No you’re fine it was my fault.” The man also smiles, as he puffs.

“WHY ARE YOU TWO CHIT-CHATTING, GET A MOVE ON!” Sobel yells, sending them back down the mountain. The down hill, harder on the knees, is less tiring.

“I don’t think we have met?” The man says as they run.

“I’m Y/N, and no we probably haven’t met.” She says wondering why the man is talking to her. The rest of the guys just ignore her, leaving her to her own devices.

“Nice to meet you Y/N, I’m Edward, but everyone just calls me Tip, or Tipper.” He says sending her a smile. Not looking where he is going the man stumbles, Y/N is quick to grab him by the arm to stop him from tumbling down the hill.

“Thanks, I should probably be looking where I am going huh?” He chuckles, she sends him a small smile, increasing her pace to get away from the man. He keeps up with her though. The rest of the run she makes it her mission to leave him behind, but he keeps pace. Sending her smiles as they go.

They make it back to base, Y/N looks to go have a shower.

“If I knew any better I would think you were trying to get away from me?” Tipper says as he looks up at her with his hands on his knees.

“Get away from you?” She chuckles awkwardly, “What? No.” she says sarcastically. Y/N takes her chance while the man is recovering to dart away to hop into one of the showers.

Y/N gets to use the Captain’s showers due to the rest of them being communal. She was glad when they made that decision. On her first day she didn’t realise it was communal, and walked in to find many, many bits and pieces that were unfamiliar to her. She had stifled her scream and snuck out before the men noticed her arrival. She had spoken to Winters about the situation, not finding the most comfort in confiding in Captain Sobel. Winters had sorted it out for her in a discreet way which she was very thankful for.

Y/N slipped under the warm stream of water, letting it ease the tension in her muscles. She washed and stood for longer than she knew she should’ve enjoying the water running over her skin. She grabbed her towel drying herself down, she opened the door to grab her clean uniform to put on. Her hand searched outside of the door, finding just the metal wall. Wrapping the towel around her she poked her head out of the door. The hook that was holding her uniform was now empty. Y/N looked around flustered, did they fall off the hook? Did they get blown away? She had to get into her uniform quickly because she had to be in the mess hall in 30 minutes for dinner and if she was late she would definitely be punished. These thoughts swirled in her mind. FUCK. She cursed. She had another uniform in her barrack that she could get into and then get to dinner in time. But that would mean that she would have to walk to her barracks that was a fair distance away, in her towel! A groan left her lips and she banged her hand against the door. She poked her head out further, it seemed that there weren't too many people around, maybe she could sneak to the barracks and no one would notice. She would have to be strategic. Y/N wrapped her towel around her tightly, ensuring everything was covered. She stepped out of the shower, sneaking down the stairs. Ok, she thought, I am an undercover spy, who is on a mission to get to HQ (the barracks) without being spotted. Y/N pushed herself against the wall, looking from left to right to ensure the coast was clear. Coming out of her hiding spot she darted from tent to tent. Being able to stay out of sight. A few close calls but no one had seen her. Her barracks were in sight, but she had become cocky. I could just make a b-line for it and no one would see me. Y/N started hastily walking to the barracks, almost there, almost there.

“Y/N?” She heard from behind her. She stopped dead in her tracks not daring to turn around and see who had spotted her. The sound of footsteps approached her, she willed her legs to move and hide but she was frozen. A jacket was thrown around her shoulders. She peered over her shoulder. Tipper stood beside her looking concerned.

“Y/N what are you doing out here in a towel? You do know you’re in a camp full of men?” He asks, keeping his eyes on hers.

“I went for a shower and my uniform went missing.” She explained. The sound of a group of men came from behind them. They were still listening, as the men grew closer.

“Quick!” Tipper said in a hushed voice, he put his arm around Y/N dragging her to the tent she was aiming for. They burst into the room before anyone could see them. They looked at each other, cracking up in laughter. Tipper waited outside for her as she quickly dressed. They made it to the mess hall on time. Y/N grabbed her food and looked to go sit at her table, where no one else sat with her. Tipper grabbed her arm.

“Hey come sit with me.” He said pulling her in the direction of the table where other men called for him.

“I’m not sure, I don’t think they would want me there.” She motioned her head in the direction of his friends waiting for him.

“If they say anything, I will make sure to kick them in the shins.” He says wiggling his eyebrows, making her giggle. She sighs, nodding her head. Tipper and Y/N sit down together and the table is quiet. Y/N clears her throat and looks down at her plate of food pushing it around.

“Guys this is Y/N.” Tipper introduces her to the table, they watch her unsure. She gives them a tight lip smile in greeting.

“Sorry for my friends, they must’ve forgotten how to talk to a woman since we don’t get out on the weekends. Sobel huh?” Tipper nudges her with his elbow.

“Hey, I know how to talk to ladies.” Liebgott protests from beside her as he sits down, squashing her between the men.

“Your Y/N right?” Liebgott asks with his mouth full of food. She nods her head.

“You know I have never heard you talk.” Frank says from across the table.

“Well you’ve never talked to me so…” She trails off. The other men laugh, giving Frank a hard time.

“I think Sobel picks on you the most.” Lieb says to her.

“Well it’s hard being the favourite.” The men chuckle at her joke. The men are funny as she sits there and listens to their silly banter. After the meal ends she feels a little less alone than she normally did. Tipper walks her back to her barrack.

“I didn’t get to thank you earlier, for saving my ass, literally.” They chuckle at her joke.

“No thanks necessary ma’am.” He pretends to tip his fake hat. She giggles, butterflies float around her stomach. She straightens, no she can’t have feelings, this is not the time. She clears her throat, sobering herself.

“Goodnight.” She says hurrying into the barrack, he stands outside smiling at her.

After months of basic training Y/N finally got to do her first practice jump. It was thrilling to say the least. All of her hard work finally felt like it was paying off. Standing in the line getting ready to jump from the plane, her heart was in her throat. She went through all of the motions she was taught, clipping herself to the line, checking the man in front of her, waiting for the green light. She was fifth back, watching her fellow soldiers making their leap, she couldn’t wait till it was her turn. Tipper was in front of her, he had given her a cheeky wink before his jump. She couldn’t remember if she had smiled back at him, so focussed on her own turn. She stood in the doorway, waiting for her cue to leave. The light turned green as the instructor gave a loud GO. Y/N had jumped, going into autopilot she followed the instructions ensuring she had the right form. The shoot deployed as she floated down. In that moment she was allowed a second to herself. Taking in the view of the rolling fields, the feeling of the wind on her face and the sweet smell of fresh air. She was so proud of herself. After the jump the men and her had gathered in the bar to celebrate. She drank with Tipper and the other men. Over the past couple of months she had grown closer to Tipper, her crush getting bigger as she did so. She played it well, just being his friend. But sometimes she wished she had the courage to lean over and kiss him. However she didn’t want to ruin the great friendship she had with him, and she didn’t know how he would react to such a confession from her. So she let it be, keeping her feelings locked up and enjoying the little moments they had together. He was so funny, always had a witty line to say, and then other times he was so sweet she could melt. He would do little things for her. One time when she was having a hard day he picked her some wildflowers from the meadow nearby to cheer her up. There were also the little touches they shared, he would lean into her as he spoke, hold her by her hips as he moved past her. This confused her more, but seeing that there were no other female recruits, she couldn’t figure out if that's how he was as a person or if he had feelings for her as well. They cheered as Bill chugged his beer, flashing his new jump wings badge in his teeth after doing so. They had all got their wings after their jump. Showing that they were real paratroopers now.

Soon they were being shipped off again, literally. This time to England. The ship was hot and stuffy, as the men were crowded into the hold. The journey was long, they did anything to pass the time. Gossip, smoke, cards and fights.

Tipper and Y/N lounge on the lower bunks playing cards as a fight breaks out behind them. Y/N glances over to see who is involved, Lieb and Bill and being pulled away from each other. Y/N only heard parts of the conversation, mostly paying attention to trying to beat Tip in their game.

“What’s all that about?” Tipper asks, looking over at her.

“Bill called Sobel a Jew. Liebgott took offence cause he’s a Jew too.” She reports what she had heard to Tip, as she plays her card.

“Pfft, fighting over Sobel that’s smart.” Tip replied sarcastically.

Easy company goes through more rigorous training in Aldbourne England. Doing more practical training rather than physical fitness. Learning battle strategies, weapon handling, digging trenches and doing practice assaults.

Y/N is in the group led by Sobel for the assault. Y/N checks her watch, they are late. They were supposed to be at the rendezvous point by this time, but are currently running in a field nowhere near it. They ran beside a field of cows, hi cows. Luz halts to group as Sobel tries to find his bearings. Y/N makes eye contact with Tip who is Sobel’s runner, poor guy. Where are we? Y/N mouths to Tipper who shakes his head at the very lost Sobel.

“Tipper.” Yells Sobel turning away from Tip who is standing right next to him. Y/N groans internally, how do you not know who your runner is?

“Yes, sir.” Tipper says pulling out the map so they can figure out where we are. Sobel double takes over his shoulder realising that Tip is right behind him.

“Give me the m��.” Sobel starts to command but Tipper beats him to it, already handing him the map.

“Perconte, Luz. Get the men, get ‘em ba-, take cover behind those trees.” The man fumbles. George and Frank start moving out the men to behind the trees Sobel pointed at. Y/N follows the men as they make their way over.

“Perconte, Sobel’s lost again right?” Y/N asks Frank as they gather behind the shrubs, crouching down, keeping quiet.

“Yeah he’s lost.” Frank replies annoyed at the incompetent Captain.

“Fucking Christ.” Y/N mutters to herself.

“Luz, Luz.” Franks calls the man. “Can you do Major Horton?” he asks as Luz comes to stand by him.

“Does a wild bear crap in the woods, son?” Luz says mimicking Horton. The men laugh at his impression.

“Shh shh shh,” Frank shushes their giggles, “Maybe the good major can goose this schmuck. Get us moving?” Frank tells Luz his idea.

“No way.” Luz starts to try and get out of doing the impression. The other men egg him on. George gives into the peer pressure, agreeing. Y/N and the rest of the men whisper excitedly as Luz shushes them.

“Is there a problem Captain Sobel?” Luz imitates the Major’s voice. Everybody giggles, covering their mouths to keep quiet.

“Who said that? Who broke silence?” Sobel screams across the field.

Tipper grins, holding in his laugh. Knowing Luz as a close friend he recognised the impersonation. Holding it together he informs Sobel, “I think it’s Major Horton, sir.” Putting on a straight face.

Sobel is stumped, “Major Horton? What is he-, did he join us?” He stutters.

“I think maybe he is moving between the platoons, sir.” Tipper carries on with the ruse.

“What is the goddamn hold up Mr. Sobel?” Luz yells again after a period of silence. Y/N trying her best to contain her fits of giggles, pressing her face into her hands.

“A fence, sir. Sir, um. God. A barbed wire fence.” Sobel shouts back. Tipper looks down at the ground trying to cover his grin.

“Oh, that dog just ain’t gonna hunt.” Luz says again in his amazing impression of Horton. Stifled laughter can be heard amongst the men.

“Shut up, shut up.” Luz tells them when the laughing is getting too loud. “Now you cut that fence and get this goddamn platoon on the move!” Luz screams in his Horton voice.

“Yes, sir.” Sobel follows the man’s command, Tipper still trying to contain his own laughter.

“Where are my goddamn wire cutters?” Sobel was frustrated at being caught by the “Major”.

#first ever request #ehhhhh #I can do more if you want #message me hehe #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #band of brother x reader #edward tipper x reader #fanfic #tropes #Tipper is a cutie #part 2 coming soon #I promise

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coco-bean-1218 · 4 months

Note

CLAIREEEEEEEE I AM ON MY HANDS AND KNEES BEGGING FOR ANGSTY CHUCK/CLAIRE CONTENT 🙏🙏

could i do "You’ll be fine.” silence “You’ll be fine. Hey! Wake up! Please. Please wake up…" from the injury prompts?? it doesn't matter who's injured, i'm sure it'll be great either way!!

love you!! have an amazing day!

BLU!!!!! I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!!!! THIS IS GONNA BREAK SO MANY HEARTS!!!! GRAB THE TISSUES; YOU'LL NEED THEM!!!! LOVE YOU TOO!!!!

WARNING: SPOILER ALERT

December, 1944

Ardennes Forest, Bastogne, Belgium

The world erupted in a cacophony of thunder, the ground shivering beneath Claire's feet. December's chill had seeped into the bones of Easy Company as they huddled in their foxholes in Bastogne, but nothing could have prepared them for the sudden inferno that rained from the sky.

"Get down!" someone screamed, barely audible over the roar.

Claire’s instincts as a combat medic kicked in—she was already moving, crouched low, ready to throw herself towards the wounded. But fate had a cruel twist; a shell burst mere feet away, its shockwave hurling her through the air like a ragdoll caught in a gust of wind. Time seemed to slow as Claire soared through the air, her body twisting and contorting in unnatural ways.

"CLAIRE!" The cry cut through the chaos, agonized and sharp.

Grant's voice, unmistakable even amidst the pandemonium, was laced with raw terror. His long strides ate up the distance between them as he bolted from his cover, the golden-haired paratrooper from California who'd never quite mastered the art of concealing his heart on his sleeve.

Claire hit the frozen earth hard, her vision exploding into a swirling mass of grey and crimson. Sounds dulled, as if she were underwater, her ears ringing with an eerie high-pitched whine that drowned out the battle cries and explosions.

"Cl-Claire?" Grant’s anxious face swam into view above her, his blue eyes wide with fear. His lips moved, forming words she couldn't hear.

She tried to respond, to tell him she was alright, but her voice was lost, a silent scream in her throat. Panic clawed at her insides, a relentless beast that wouldn't be soothed. She couldn't move, couldn't feel anything below the sharp pain that sliced through her chest just below her collarbone.

Blood—her blood—stained the snow around her, a vivid red against pure white. Claire's mind reeled; this wasn't how it was supposed to end, not here, not now. She had always been the one patching others up, not the other way around.

Her breaths came in shallow gasps, each one an icy dagger in her lungs. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all—the girl who joked in the face of death now stared it down, and the humor was lost on her.

"Please," she heard Grant whisper through the veil of disorientation that clouded her consciousness, his plea a fragile thread in the tapestry of war that unraveled around them.

Claire's thoughts swirled, conflicting emotions battling within her. There was Eugene, her best friend, whose steady presence had always anchored her, and then there was Grant, the embodiment of awkward affection and earnest blue-eyed concern. She had never intended to weave such a complicated web of feelings between them, especially not here, in the midst of a world torn apart by conflict.

Was this what dying felt like? The cold seeping into her bones, the world fading at the edges, leaving behind only the echo of unrequited love and the faces of those she cared about?

"Grant," she tried to say, but the name dissolved into the frigid air, unheard. Her body was betraying her, refusing to cooperate, to fight, to cling to the life she'd always gripped with stubborn tenacity.

Through the haze of pain and fear, Claire held onto one thought: she wasn't ready to let go. Not yet.

"Roe!" Grant's voice tore through the biting cold, a desperate plea against the deafening blasts that continued to punctuate the frozen landscape. His hands, already numb from the chill, shook as he assessed Claire's injuries—a graphic contrast of crimson against the pristine white snow.

"It's okay, Claire," he reassured her, his gaze between duty and decorum. The fabric of her coat was shredded, and beneath it, a darker stain spread, threatening to consume her vitality. He knew he needed to act, but propriety held him back. How could he, a man raised on respect and decency, expose Claire in such a way? Yet, as her shallow breaths fogged the icy air, he realized that hesitation could cost her life.

"Please, Eugene!" he called again, his voice cracking with the strain of both fear and cold. He tentatively reached for the edge of her coat, hesitating, "Sorry, Claire," he whispered, as he carefully started to remove the layers, his fingers working with urgency yet light and respectful. His hands trembled, not just from the cold, but also from the fear of further injuring her or crossing an unseen line even in this dire situation.

Claire's breath came in shallow gasps, fogging the air briefly before dissipating into nothingness. She lay there, a delicate figure etched against the harshness of war, her life slipping away with each labored breath.

"You’ll be fine." The words felt hollow even as they left his lips, a mantra against the overwhelming helplessness. Silence swallowed his assurance whole, leaving him stranded amidst the chaos of his own emotions.

Grant looked down into the wound, the blood seeping out onto the snow, painting a harsh picture of mortality. His mind raced, every second without Eugene an eternity, every drop of her blood a testament to his own inadequacy. His hands, though gentle, were clumsy with urgency as he worked to stem the flow, his movements mindful not to cause further harm.

"You’ll be fine." He repeated, more to himself now, a feeble attempt to will the universe into compliance. "Hey! Wake up! Please. Please wake up…" The tremor in his voice betrayed the panic that clawed its way through his composure.

In his mind, he saw her smile, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed, the spirited debates they’d shared, the tender moments that had unfolded so naturally between them. Those memories clashed with the present—her face losing color, her body growing still. The thought of a future without her was unacceptable, unthinkable.

"Come on, Claire," he murmured, his hands slick with her blood. Each heartbeat that throbbed under his fingertips was a reminder that she was still here, still fighting. And as long as she fought, he would fight with her. In the battlefield of love and war, surrender wasn't an option. Not for Claire. Not while he still drew breath.

"Doc, hurry," Grant whispered into the void, as if the words could summon Eugene faster. His gaze never left Claire's face, willing her to return to him, to return to the world that was cruel and beautiful and theirs for the taking—if only she would wake up.

Claire's eyelids snapped open with a jolt, revealing a world that spun and shimmered in a haze of blurred shapes and muted sounds. Her breaths came in ragged gulps, stirring the frigid air into tiny clouds that dissipated as quickly as they formed. The coppery tang of blood filled her mouth, mingling with the sting of gunpowder and earth.

"You're okay," Grant's voice reached her, distant and distorted, like an echo in a deep cavern. His hands were gentle yet urgent on her skin, pressing down to stem the flow of warmth that seeped from her chest.

But Claire's attention was pulled away, drawn to the spectral figure emerging from the chaos—a boy, no, a young man with familiar brown hair and eyes that mirrored her own in-depth and sorrow. Noah stood before her, his navy uniform impeccable, untouched by the grime of war. He seemed out of place amidst the snow and blood, an apparition from another time, another life.

"Hi, Claire," he said, his voice clear and soothing, a balm to the agony that wracked her body, "I've missed you."

"Noah...?" she whispered,

"It doesn't have to hurt anymore, the heartache or the pain," Noah replied, offering a half-smile that twisted Claire's heart with nostalgia, "The sorrow, the guilt, the longing."

"Can't feel anything... should be nice..." she muttered, her voice barely a thread, as her hand quivered, reaching toward Noah's inviting grasp.

"It is," Noah whispered, his voice like an ethereal gust of wind. "Peaceful. No pain. No fear. No war."

Her hand twitched, instinctively reaching for him, but a sharp pain lanced through her body, drawing a gasp that fogged the lenses of her glasses. She could see Grant's silhouette hovering over her, the intensity of his gaze burning even through the blurriness.

Noah's hand stretched out towards her, fingers almost translucent against the backdrop of the winter sky. "Come with me, Claire. We can be together—like we always should've been."

"Grant will understand," Noah continued, his gaze holding hers, unyielding yet full of compassion as he placed his phantasmal hand on Grant's shoulder. "He's a good man. He knows about loss, about love. He knows how much you loved me, how much I meant to you. He'll let you go."

Claire's mind reeled, torn between the beckoning peace Noah offered and the raw, desperate need to cling to life—to Grant. Her thoughts became a tangle of memories and wishes, each one pulling her in opposite directions. Could she leave Grant and Eugene behind? Abandon the future they might have shared?

"Please, Claire, fight this," Grant urged, his voice breaking through her indecision. "You're strong. You’ve always been the bravest person I know."

Tears blurred her vision further, mixing with the blood and dirt on her face. Noah's presence was comforting, promising an end to pain, to fear. But it was Grant's touch, warm and alive, that anchored her to the here and now.

"Grant...Eugene," Her voice was a wind-whispered echo, her hand lifting with the tremulous fragility of a leaf in a storm.

"Hey, hey, I'm right here," Grant said, his voice thick with panic as he pressed down on the wound with more force, crimson overflowing onto the white snow beneath them. His heart pounded against his ribcage, each beat a hammer blow against the walls of his composure.

"Noah...?" Claire murmured again, reaching out to the spectral vision only she could see. A soft smile curved her lips, a stark contrast to the chaotic tumult around them. Her fingers brushed through the apparition's offering, finding nothing but the chill of winter air.

"God, no," Grant whispered, hot tears carving tracks through the grime on his face. He watched her eyes fixate on an unseen horizon, her gaze filled with longing and love for a ghost from her past. The ghost of Noah Walters—the man he could never be, the first to claim her heart.

"Stay with me, Claire," he pleaded, feeling the tremble of her body like a sparrow in his hands. "Don't go to him."

But how could he compete with eternity? How could he chain her to a world of pain when the one she loved offered her solace in the beyond?

"Grant...will understand," she spoke aloud, her voice a fading ember as the hallucination of Noah coaxed her further. Her fingers twitched in the empty air, seeking a hand that wasn't there.

"Understand what? That I'm losing you? That I can't save you?" Grant's whisper broke into a ragged sob. A sob born from the deepest well of fear and loss, a sound that mingled with the distant thunder of war.

"Please, don't leave me," he begged, pressing his forehead to hers, his tears warm against her cold skin. "I can't—I won't let you go."

Claire's breath hitched, a silent struggle raging within her. Noah's presence was soothing, a balm to her shattered soul, yet Grant's touch, his earnest plea, was a lifeline thrown in a roiling sea.

"Damn it, Claire! Fight! Don't let him take you away from me!" Grant's voice was a desperate incantation, willing her spirit back from the precipice.

In her delirium, the pull of Noah's ghostly allure was strong, like a siren's call tugging at her very essence. It whispered promises of peace and reunion, of a love that transcended time and death itself. All the pain and suffering that had marred her existence would be washed away in the tender embrace of Noah's phantom arms. In a veil of mist, she saw Grant's tear-streaked face, his blue eyes searching hers for any sign of sanity, of recognition. He begged her with silent tears, his breath catching in his throat as he reached out for her one last time.

"We can be together, just like you always wanted," echoed Noah's voice in her mind, a haunting symphony of memories and dreams.

"God, no...not her...not my Claire," Grant repeated, his voice a raw edge of hope. He took hold of her hand, still reaching out into the open air, and pressed it tightly against his chest, over the frantic thump of his heart. His grip was fierce, unwilling to let her slip away. "Don't go. Please, don't go," he pleaded, his voice hoarse with desperation. "I can't imagine my life without you."

"Stay or go," she heard her own heart echo, as she slipped back into unconsciousness. A heart that beat not just for the lost love of her youth, but for the man who held her now, who wept for her life amidst the snow and blood, whose tears fell onto her cheeks.

"I LOVE YOU!"

---

#uh oh poor Claire #well behaved women never make history #wbwnmh #band of brothers #band of brothers ofc #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x ofc #my oc #ask game #chuck grant #eugene roe #eugene roe x ofc #chuck grant x ofc

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kilojulietsierra · 1 month

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Porch Swing Angel - Eugene Roe x Louisiana!Nurse OFC

Sorry this took way longer to post than I intended, but here it is! Finally!! It's barely edited but hopefully y'all enjoy!

Eugene plays guitar in this one, he sings a song called "Hurricane" by Band of Heathens. It was def not out in the 40's but oh well.

~~~~~~

As soon as Spina emerged from behind the bar with the well worn guitar in his hand and a gleeful look on his face Roe began to regret the singular offhand comment he had made weeks before. He watched his friend wade his way through the crowd with the instrument and Roes face was passive, by no means as excited as Spina.

"Hey, Eugene! You said you could play right. Have a go!" Spina thrust the guitar towards him.

The motion was clumsy enough that Roe reached for it on reflex, concerned Spina would drop it, "Spina, I ain't gonna do that. Go give it back." He pointed back towards the overwhelmed bartender.

"Aw c'mon, he said it was fine!" Spina shoved the guitar at him again.

Roe caved this time and took it carefully, setting his beer down to settle it across his lap at an awkward angle where he sat at a crowded table. "I ain't that good." Even as he mumbled the words his fingers settled on the frets, getting a feel for the old six string. He tuned a string or two to avoid the thought of singing in front of the whole company.

Most the men were occupied in one way or another. If he was lucky maybe none of them would pay attention. Besides the fact that already the boys closest to him had turned to face him. Several egging him on along with Spina.

Caving under the pressure he began to pick senslessly at the strings.

He was rusty. He could feel it. The years of playing with his grandfather came back to him eventually and he got comfortable. A song came to mind and he played through the first few chords testing it out. Roe just played with it at first, lose interpretation of the only song he could come up with. When he looked up next half the pub was staring at him and he immediatly dropped his eyes to the floor.

After another round of persuassion, "C'mon Doc!", "Yeah Doc, sing us somethin'.", Eugene started the first few bars in earnest. Swallowing thickly and ignoring the crowd best he could he sang the beginning of a song that reminded him of Louisiana. Reminded him of home.

"Thirty miles out on the Gulf stream I hear the south wind moan The bridges gettin' lower the shrimp boats comin home"

~~~~~

Lily hadn't had to work too hard to convince the other girls to go to the pub with her. They all knew too well that the airborne had more than ran the regular army boys and brits out of the only pub in town. They all had their own motives, but Lily was mostly just happy for something to break the routine of rolling bandages and collecting dog tags of the boys that would never make it home.

There were only a handful of them tonight and at first they had been swarmed. The paratroopers just happy to see something in a skirt. To that point Lily had found herself trapped in a corner with two of her friends, being talked up by some young man whose jumpwings were as shiny as the day he got them. Which, based on her loose understanding, she would bet was less than a week or two ago.

She had long since stopped giving the poor kid her full attention, beyond accepting the beer he had brought over.

The pub was loud and so when the din suddenly died down and the strum of guitar chords broke the silence in its wake, the girls all turned towards the source but could not see who was playing.

At first Lily was ready to write it off but the strumming grew stronger, more sure of itself, and the tune sounded familiar. When the voice broke through the crowd she couldn't help begin to weave her way through the crowd.

The old man down in the quarter Slowly turns his head Takes a sip from his whiskey bottle And this is what he said

Making it to the source of the music Lily smiled and joined in on the chorus without thinking twice

I was born in the rain on the Pontchartrain Underneath the Lousiana moon

The man playing snapped his eyes up to hers as she joined him and together they continued to sing. Each of them a little more confident.

I don't mind the strain of a hurricane They come around every June

Lily smiled as she found her voice and held the gaze of the solemn, darkhaired paratrooper playing the guitar. The crowd had moved out of her way and she came to stand a short distance away from him as he played. She nodded encouragingly, gave a little winding motion with her hand telling him to play it up.

~~~~~

Eugene quit singing altogether at that point. Not wanting to diminish the girls beautiful voice. So, when she gave him a little signal to pick it up, he took her lead. He found he wasn't playing for the crowed anymore. He was playing for her.

The high blackwater, the devils daughter She's hard, she'd cold and she's mean But nobody taught her, it takes a lot of water To wash away New Orleans.

Her singing overtook him and he wasn't in that pub in England anymore. He was on his Grandmothers porch playing with his grandfather and his uncles on a summer night. He could feel the muggyness, hear the cicadas in the trees and smell the honeysuckle. When he closed his eyes, rocking back and forth as he played outright, he swore he could see lightening bugs behind his eyelids.

She sang like a girl raised on southern baptist choirs and bluegrass. Her voice was rich and strong, husky like maybe she smoked a little here and there. Soulful like she'd had her heart broken a time or two and broken a dozen more herself.

When he opened his eyes next he found her watching him from a few feet away, she held his gaze firm as she belted out the next chorus. Spared him a little smile as she swayed along, her foot stomping out the time. His cheeks were warm when he returned her smile and he had to look away. A vision crossed his mind as he picked and strummed and swayed in his seat. A vision of her perched on the wooden, porch rail behind him in a cotton dress, singing as they all played for her.

At one point, the last chorus, he met her eyes again as he stopped playing. Only tapping out the time against the body of the guitar. Letting her gorgeous voice fill the dead quiet pub all on it's own, every man and woman in the pub hung on her every word.

By the time he played the last few bars out for her, she had come to stand nearly in front of him. Her voice had dropped down to something soft and sweet and without missing a beat they let the music trail off on its own, holding eachothers eyes again until Eugene had to look away.

~~~~~

The crowded bar erupting into shouts and hollers snapped her out of the dream she had slipped into while she had been singing. Whistles and clapping echoed off the walls and suddenly she was a little shy as they all called out for another song.

Amongst the ruccus Lily squeezed her way to the table and carefully perched herself on the edge of it next to where the paratrooper sat with his arms crossed over top the guitar. He smiled when he looked up at her, it's shy and his teeth aren't showing, but his eyes are bright and she liked it. "What else can you play?" She leaned down closer to ask the question.

She was pleasantly caught of guard when a glimmer of something else broke through that shyness and he gave her a grin, "Darlin', if you keep singin' I'll play anything you want."

~~~~~

His response made her smile, with a laugh behind it and Eugene is proud of that. And for some time after that he played any song she asked for, thank God he knew them all, but they were all songs he grew up on and he was grateful for that. THey had made music together until there were couples dancing in a cleared off spot by the dartboard and drunken' soldiers were slurring the words along with them.

Eugene had to control the urge to tell them all to shut up. Let her sing.

She was enjoying herself and smiling wider the more she drank and the more she sang. Roe had lost track of the songs by the time she bowed out and said that was all she had for the night.

For a second he worried she'd disappear once she was done singing but instead she gave him a bright smile and slid off the table to take the empty chair beside him. "I'm Lily Beauchesne," she held out her hand. "My friends call me Beau. It's a little easier."

"Eugene Roe." Leaning the guitar against the wall behind him he took it and felt a wave of heat roll through him that had nothing to do with the overcrowded pub. "Your voice," He started as he let her hand go, "It sounds like home."

For the first time that night it was Lilys cheeks who flushed a pretty pink and she glanced away from him. Her tongue darting out to lick her lips before she reached for a beer and took a sip.

Emboldened by her reaction Gene turned to face her further, "Where you from Lily Beauchesne?"

Lily grinned, enjoying the way his accent colored her name just right and how he didn't stumble over the pronunciation one bit. "Louisiana, little town called Port Barre."

Eugene couldn't help but smile and shake his head. With a little chuckle at the look she gave him he met her eye, "I'm about 50 miles down the river from ya. Bayou Chene"

Her smile doubled in surpise, "You're joking!" She leaned in a little closer and fought back the butterflys in her stomach. "Are your people Cajun?" She asks in what passes for French in south Louisiana.

WIth a nod he responds to her in French as well, "Half. My mothers side."

It's like Lily can't stop smiling at that point. "Mine too! My French is not so good." She uses it though, happy to have something to share with this man she's just met.

That glimmer in his dark eyes comes back again as he tilts his head to look at her. This time he responds in English but his voice is lower, accent thicker, "Sounds real good to me."

Lily blushes again and Roe loves it. Want to keep her smiling and blushing and talking to him all night.

~~~~~

They spend the rest of the night together in their own little world. Sitting close together and talking just the two of them. The friends each of them came left to their own devices while Eugene and Lily got to know eachother. Their conversation flowed between their two languages, their accents blending together. Roe truly wanted to talk to her all night, he wanted more if he were honest with himself and that thought rang louder when Lily had picked his hand up off the table to hold it in her own.

Her tinier, softer fingers caresed his carefully even as she continued on in French, repeating an anectdote about a relative she'd received in her most recent letter from home.

Roe found it hard to concentrate. The sound of her sweet voice lulling him and his attention drawn to they way she had his hand held in her lap. Palm up with her gentle fingers tracing over the lines and creases, brushing over the caluses from working and fighting all this time.

She caught him not paying attention, pulling him back to her by saying his name, "Eugene…" and giving his hand a squeeze.

His eyes jumped back to hers, embarrassed except that her face was nothing but kind if a little teasing,. Every lecture he'd ever received on fratrenization policy spun around in his mind and one by one he tossed hiem aside the longer she smiled at him like that.

He wanted to kiss her. He was going to kiss her

But then Lipton was addressing the crowd. Roe had pulled his hand from her grip and felt the weigh of war settle back over him as the news came. They would be leaving.

When he turned back to her Lily was still smiling, but now it was soft and sad.

Before Eugene could come up with the words she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'll see you again Eugene." She kissed him again, closer to his jaw this time before she added, "I'm sure of that."

As she pulled away from him Gene caught her gently, hookin a finger under her chin and pulling her back so he could kiss her properly. It was short and sweet, but it was a promise of more. "Until next time."

~~~~~

He wasn't sure if their parting words had been true, but he was certain they had both meant what they had said. Would they really see eachother again though? `

Eugene found himself thinking of her quite often. At night in his bunk, on the canvas seat of the plane as they headed for their jump into Holland, and most recently in the back of a frigid deuce and a half shaking and rattling its way towards the front.

When he had a spare moment to think of the pretty nurse from Louisiana it was almost always the same daydream. It was her on a porch swing on a warm summer evening, rocking back and forth in a simple cotton dress with her hair loose and long, just begging for his fingers to run through it. Sometimes he would imagine her singing his favorite songs or a hymm and even in his own mind her voice brought him peace. In these dreams she would smile at him as he walked up the steps to join her, or as he sat across from her picking out a song for her.

She kissed him in his daydreams. Long and sweet and loving and she would blush so pretty, giggling when he would whisper in her ear little things only for her to hear.

He was careful to stop his thoughts there. He'd slipped up a few times, on nights when he couldn't sleep, and thought of her tugging him to his feet and leading him to bed, or of picking her up in his arms and carrying her as she took her turn whispering in his ear until he laid her on top of the covers and took the words right out of her mouth.

Gene knew they did not know eachother well enough to allow himself those kinds of thoughts but God willing he wanted to.

An especially hard bump in the road dug the metal of the truck bed into his back and jerked him from his daydreams. It wasn't a warm, bayou summer, instead he felt the cold seep back into his bones and the darkness outside of the truck swallow him once again.

Dug into his foxholes he tried not to think of her, tried to focus on his job and making it through the next day. Instead, what he did allow himself was the hope that if he survived this frozen hell, he would see her again. That she would be waiting for him.

As much as he wanted to see Lily Beauchesne again, he never would have thought they would cross paths again when, where and how they did.

~~~~~

The jeep weaved its way through the wreckage and rubble of Bastogne and Roe was busy holding pressure on the bleeding leg wound of the soldier stretched out over the hood. The city, what was left of it, was in shambles and the church they were using for a makeshift aid station was little better.

Gene left the basement of the church sometime later, Sisk in capable hands, and with an armfull of fresh supplies. He flagged down a jeep and had just climbed into the passengar seat when something caught his attention.

A voice off to one side that tickled something in his mind. When he looked, as the jeep turned around and pointed back towards the cleared street, he heard it. A familiar voice with a familiear accent. Gene sat up straight and twisted around, not quite believing it was her until she looked up and their eyes met.

~~~~~

Lily had to fight the urge to wipe the blood on her trousers as she jogged across the street to meet the incoming jeep. Her frozen fingers immediatly jumping to the blood soaked bandage over the stump of a young soliders arm. WIthout a second thought she began barking orders and used all her muscle to help wrestle him off the jeep and onto a stretcher.

As they carried him inside something made her skin warm up and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She turned and searched her surroundings until her gaze fell on a retreating jeep. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Eugene, staring right back at her, the same look of shock on his face.

Unable to move she held his gaze. A flood of thoughts and emotions tore through her and she could not look away until the jeep was out of sight.

Eugene was alive. He knew she was here.

~~~~~

When they truly saw eachother for the first time they barely had a moment together but each of them was grateful for it.

Roe had made a point to find her the next time he brought a patient to the church. "What are ya doin' here?" Was not how he meant to speak to her the first time but it was what came out as he came to stand beside her. He liked her all the more when her response was to flash her angry, green eyes at him from where she knelt by a wounded man.

"I'm a nurse Eugene. I'm doin' my job." She stood up straight and had to fight back a wince at the stiff joints and sore muscles that harrassed her body. Lily was ready for a fight but that's not what she wanted.

He knew as soon as the words left his mouth that hadn't come out right, but he was glad she was the kind of woman to defend herself. With a deep breath Gene closed his eyes and started again, "I'm sorry, that's… that's not what I meant."

"That's how it sounded." There was no longer a bite to her words but she stood her ground all the same, "We're what's left of the hospital unit. Got cut off just like y'all."

Gene licked his lips and looked at his boots long and hard before he spoke, "I'm glad you're okay. I just didn't expect to see ya here is all."

Lily nodded, her posture relaxed, and silently accepted his apology. "I'm glad I got to see you."

Gene relaxed too and gave her a careful smile, "So am I."

"Doc!" The driver yelled from the door, "Let's go."

With a scowl Roe looks his way and then back to Lily. HIs fingers twitch. He wants to reach out to her, but doesnt.

She does though. Lily grabs for his hand and holds it in hers for a brief moment. She gives it a squeeze and offers him a sweet smile that nearly reaches her tired eyes. "Until next time. (French)"

"Doc!"

Gene glares towards the door again but gives Lily a flustered little smile before giving her hand a squeeze of his own and heading back towards the stairs.

~~~~~

The next time Roe is there he looks for her almost immediatly, but can't find her. He finally asks one of the other medics, "Hey, have you seen Lieutenant Beauchesne?"

The medic furrows his brow, sparing Eugene a glance while he worked, "Who?"

"A nurse, Lily Beauchesne, y'all might call her Beau. Accent, dark hair."

Finally the other man nods, even shares a sympathetic look with him which Gene didn't quite understand. "She's down on the end."

Roe looks but didn't see her at first. Not until he made it to the end of the church room and looks around. Where he finds Lily curled up on a low table, a makeshift bed, with a blanket over her. His heart drops at the sight of her. "Lily..."

She is balled up as tight as can be on the tabletop, the flimsy blanket obviously doing nothing to quell the tremors that rack her body as she shivers. Her face is pale and sweaty, her breathing raspy and her eyes sunken, hollow and closed tight against the pain. Lily doesn't aknowledge him until he takes a knee beside the table, to get to her level, and lays a careful hand on her.

"Lily... cher, look at me." Roe whispers to her without a second thought as he strokes her hair back from her clammy forhead.

Her eyes open and they struggled to focus. "Gene..." Another shiver overtakes her and she pulls her knees closer to her chest.

"Sweetheart, look at you." He continues to stroke her hair and moves his other hand to cradle the crown of her head, his touch sure but gentle. First brushing over her forhead, then gently tugging one eye open fully with his thumb grimacing at the size of her pupils, and finally stroking the tips of his fingers up her slender throat, the swelling under jaw plain as day. "How long you been like this?"

A wry smile fought its way through her grimace as she dodged his question, "I'll be fine."

His fingers traced the side of her neck once more before he settled his palm over her temple. "You're burnin' up." Roe looked her over and searched around for anything else to cover her better.

"Freezing." She corrects him.

"I know." He searched all around him and finds nothing for her. "You need some water?"

Lily shook her head as vigorously as she was able, "I'll just..." She shivered to the point she was unable to keep still, "I'll just toss it up again."

Suddenly a plan formed in his mind and he was glad to have it. He slid his hand down her arm under the blanket to look for an IV but found nothing. "Let me help."

He made to stand up but her trembling fingers clenched around the sleeve of his jacket. "We don't have anything." She tugged feebly, she wanted him back close to her. "Nothin' to spare." Her words cut off abruptly as she screwed her face up and blindly fumbled over the edge of the table.

Roe fumbled, but finally saw the bucket she was reaching for and holds it for her as she coughs and heaves. WIth his other hand he helped support her weight as she leant off the table and retches until her eyes are watering and her throat hurt. Once she's done he helps her lay back down and pulls her blanket back up to her chin. "Jus' be quiet and rest cher."

Her eyes are closed when she whimpers, "Stay. Just a minute."

WIthout hesitation he knelt down beside her again, his hands cradling her head and face as he leaned his forehead against hers, "I'm right here cher... I'm right here." He strokes his thumb back and forth over her filthy hair and occasionally smooths out the pained furrows in her brow.

WIthout really thinking about it he began to pray over her. He knew there was nothing to be done other than her to wait it out, wait for the fever to break and her stomach to settle. So, he prayed for her healing, for her strength and for her comfort. Prayed for her to sleep. Somewhere in the midst of his praying, still with their foreheads pressed together and his thumb caressing her temple over and over, he began to whisper to her.

"Couldn't believe when I saw you here, I'd thought about seein' you again so often and there you where."

She didn't say anything but she hums and seems to scoot a litle closer.

For a moment he was silent again while he prayed. "That first night, in the bar, I knew I'd fall in love with you. So pretty, so smart, voice of an angel."

Lily let out a whimper and her shivers overtake her for a moment.

Voice steady and calm, Eugene hushes her, "You'll be just fine cher, just go to sleep and let the fever run." He glanced down as her hand snuck out from under the blanket and wraps around his forearm. Gene even smiled briefly as her thumb stroked over his sleeve in time with his own.

Carefully, he pressed his lips to her forehead. "Rest for me, huh cher. Jus' rest for me."

He remained still and eventually felt her relax the slightest big, her face soft and she let out a little hum as she nodded off. Before he stood, Gene brushed a hand over her hair and prayed. "Let her sleep, Lord. Let her rest, and take this pain from her while she sleeps." He kept his hands on her head a moment longer before he dropped another soft kiss on her forehead and stood up straight. HIs chest ached as he looked over her one last time, gave her calf one last, comforting squeeze before he left her to rest.

~~~~~

The pain in his chest that day was nothing in comparison to the pain and dread he felt at the sight of the bombed out church. It's entrance little more than a pile of stone and debris. He nearly collapsed under the weight of a single thought. Lily had been here. Curled up on a hard table, sick and helpless. With a thick swallow he forced down the lump in his throat and turned back to the waiting jeep.

The bombs and explosions a dull echo as he retreated into himself. The world drown out around him to the point that he almost didn't hear it.

"Gene! Eugene!"

The shouts broke him out of his haze just in time for him to turn and see her. "Stop, stop. Stop the jeep." Roe didn't even wait for the driver to slam on the brakes before he had vaulted out of it and ran back down what was left of the street. He all but crashed into her as he wrapped her up in his arms and held her. Lifting her off the ground he hugged her so tight.

Lily didn't hesitate or shy away. No, she wrapped her arms around his neck and burried her face in it the best she could with both of them wearing the helmets.

"I thought you were gone." Gene murmured in her ear.

"I'm right here." She answered back, her voice thick with emotion.

An explosion rattled the whole block and Gene quickly set her down and covered her the best he could as he ushered her out of the open. "Last I saw you, you was down there. I thought…"

Lily just shook her head and smiled at him. "I slept all day after you left. Woke up to the fever broke, right as rain."

Behind them the jeep driver yelled, "What the fuck you think you're doin' Doc? We got to go!"

They both ducked at another explosion, Gene once again covering her body wtih his. Lily held him close after that, "Go. I'll be fine Gene. I'm fine."

Not an ounce of doubt or nerves in him Gene did not hesitate when he pressed her up against the brick wall behind her and kissed her. Properly, fully, like he'd always wanted to. His hold on her pressing them tight together as he claimed her mouth with his own.

Lily moaned, surprised, but quickly kissed him back. Her hands fisted in the front of his well worn field jacket and pulled him impossibly closer.

When they pulled away from eachoter Eugene's eyes drilled into hers as he straightened her helmet. "I'll find you. I promise mon cher, i'll come find you (french)" He kissed her again and relished in the feel of her one more time before he forced himself to pull away and run back to the idling jeep. Gene glanced back at her once, happy to find her watching him until he had turned, and then he watched her dart across the open and join a group of medics and wounded as they went for cover.

~~~~~

Eugene did not see her again for the whole rest of the war.

There were letters that caught up with him however and each one felt like he could breath again. She had written once that she felt much the same. Especially when he had written back to her, telling her Easy Company was finally moving off the line and heading for the crumbling but oddly much safer Germany.

The news that her unit had been discharged came to him in Austria. She was in England waiting to board a big steamer and finally begin her journey home.

Another letter never found him. HIs own company finally allowed to go home themselves, he spent a good part of his time on the boat across the Atlantic rereading the letters she had sent.

In them she had marvelled at how he had healed her, swore that he had his grandmothers gift after all. She admitted how the few times he had called her 'cher' had made her heart race and she never wanted him to call her anything else. She wrote about home, about missing him, about what she would do after the war. She reminded him he had promised to come for her, had promised he would find her.

Each letter was ended the same, "Love, your Lily" with big loopy, cursive letters.

~~~~~

Lily waited patiently for a response to her most recent letter. It never came, but she did not let herself get discouraged. Her patience paid off one evening towards then end of summer.

Her folks and younger sister were inside gathered around the radio. She herself had found she, more often than not, preferred the peace and quiet of the front porch since her return home.

That particular evening she was swaying idly on the porch swing and humming a hymm she had stuck in her head most the day.

The night was quiet but the frogs and cicadias were raising a ruckous and there was a stiff breeze blowing through the trees. The sound of all this very nearly drown out the crunch of boots approaching the front of the house.

When Eugene came up to the bottom step he was already grinning. His back straight, uniform crisp and his face clean shaven. He made eye contact with her as he climbed the few steps to the porch but stopped there to lean against the railing. "Wouldn't believe how many times I thought about you, just like this." His grin grew wider as he removed his cover and leaned his shoulder against the post.

Lily was smiling wide at the sight of him and her cheeks flushed at his words. She had no words of her own, only knew that every muscle in her body was screaming at her to run to him. The look on his face and what he had said kept her in place. He very much appeared to be enjoying the moment of a daydream realized.

FInally he budged, climbed the last step up onto the porch, and made his way over to her.

Once he got close Lily found her words. "You're home." She felt her heart start to race as he sat next to her on the old swing. The ropes creaking under shift in weight and the added motion.

"Yes I am." Roe laid his arm over the back of the swing and grinned at her. Brushed a strand of hair out of her face in the process.

She didn't say anything else before she closed the short distance between them. Excited to kiss him for the first time in nearly a year. The kiss had barely started before she pulled back, "What're you doin' here?" Lily leaned in to kiss him again, not bothering to give him time to answer.

Gene smiled into the kiss and took a gentle hold of her jaw to push her away the slightest bit. "Told you, I was gonna come find ya." He stroked the pad of his thumb over the soft skin below her ear as he gazed at her intently.

Lily grinned, leaned into his touch. "What're ya gonna do now that ya found me?"

Something in his smile changed then,"Oh I got a few things in mind," his eyes narrowed and his tongue darted out to wet his lip before he leaned to whisper in her ear. "Don't know that we ought to talk about that on your Daddy's porch though."

Bolder than he'd ever been he nipped at her ear before placing a kiss just below it and pulling back to take in the pretty, pink flush of her cheeks in the porchlight.

Blushing and chuckling Lily shoved him back playfully.

Eugene took it in stride and continued to smirk. Taking a moment before he pulled her back to him for another, longer, slower, less teasing and more promising kiss. Then he looked her in the eye with a sincerity that Lily had never seen before in any man. "I'm gonna marry you Lily Beauchesne. I'm gonna build you a house, I'm gonna give you as many kids as you want. I'll be a good husband and a good father and I'm gonna love you until the good Lord calls me home."

~~~Epilogue~~~

It was a summer night much like that night, a little over a year later, when Lily woke up to an empty bed. For a moment she simply lay there and listened. The room was silent and the night was still dark. After taking a beat she flipped back the light sheet she'd been sleeping under and put her barefeet down on the still relatively new, hardwood floor.

Gene had kept his promise. He'd married her. He'd built them a house with his, and a few friends, own hands.

As Lily sat in the dark, stretching her back and giving her foggy mind a chance to wake up a little, she thought fondly of that night he had showed up on the front porch of her parents home. He'd won her family over easily. Her mother had been sold on him the moment he'd stepped in the house, removed his cap and introduced himself to her in Cajun French. Her father had been a bit slower, unsure at first of this young man showing up late one evening in uniform and asking permission to start properly courting his daughter. Admittedly, the courting hadn't lasted long. It didn't need to.

Now, here she was, in their bedroom. Alone.

Still she smiled and finally motivated herself enough to stand up and go in search. Really there was no need to search. She found him easily.

Out on the front porch she spotted him through the screen door and watched for a moment. Taking a minute to enjoy the vew. He had his back to her as he paced the porch. He'd not put on any clothes beyond the pair of boxers he'd slept in. HIs hair, still short like he'd worn it in the Army, was tossled slightly like he half-heartedly combed his hand through it at some point.

Finally, Lily pushed her way through the screendoor, carefully sure, but it was impossible to open it quietly.

Eugene heard her and turned to face her. Face tired but with a soft smile. He leaned down to the baby he'd been bouncing in his arms and whispered, (French) "There's your pretty mama."

"What're y'all doin' out here in the dark?" She crossed the porch and stretched up to kiss his cheek and stroke the pad of her thumb over the baby's silky brow.

Gene stared at her in the way he had that looked like he still didn't quite believe he deserved this. "Your boy here was fussin', figured we'd come outside, let you get some sleep." Gene shifted his hold on their son so he could wrap an arm around his wife and pull her in close to press a kiss to her forehead.

Lily allowed it and took a deep breath, "Couldn't sleep?"

He didn't respond, but that was answer enough.There were plenty of nights Eugene couldn't sleep. Instead he just held her closer and kissed her temple.

She settled into his hold and together they stood there like that, listening to the cicadas. After a moment she lowered her gaze to her baby boy in Gene's arms and smiled. His eyes were fighting sleep, his tiny little fingers flexing unconsciously against his fathers chest. Lily turned to press a kiss to the point of Gene's shoulder and smiled as she whispered, "Look at that."

Eugene had always had a calming presence in her life. She often compared it to what his grandmother could do. Lily swore up and down that when that fever had taken hold of her in Bastogne it had been Eugene that had healed her. Of course he shrugged it off, but there was no way to deny that when it came to their son Gene was the one with the magic touch.

Their sweet little boy was smiley and cheerful and they were both grateful for it. They each had their tendencies to become a little dark and withdrawn after the war but their son had more than enough joy for all of them. The trade off was that he slept like his father; for short periods of time and fitfully. Lily could cuddle him, nurse him, sing to him, anything. Eventually he'd go back to sleep. Eventually. All Eugene had to do to get the boy to sleep was hold him.

The same was true that night, as standing there on the front porch their son was falling asleep easily in his arms. Lily kissed her husbands shoulder again and untangled herself to go and perch herself on the porch swing in the corner. From there she watched for the few minutes it took the boy to nod rest the way off and then for Gene to turn to her and whisper, "You stay right there, huh cher. I'll put him down and be right back."

So, she waited, idly swinging to and fro in the dark Louisiana night

When Eugene came back he opened and closed the screen door as quietly as he could and then came to join her on the swing. He sat down beside her and lifted his arm up in an invitation that no longer needed to be spoken and she tucked in beside him. Gene tugged her close and kissed her temple, "I'm sorry we woke you up darlin.'"

Her only answer was to shake her head and squeeze herself in closer to his side. "Worth it."

Gene smiled and kissed her again. He let his mind wander to the daydreams that had gotten him through some of the worst days of the war. This was exactly what he had dared to hope for, moments exactly like this. He kept them swinging slowly to and fro as he held her and thanked God for the life he'd been blessed with after the Hell he'd survived. The Hell they'd both survived.

He was vaguely aware of his wife humming a tune in his arms. Gene smiled and found his eyes suddenly heavy and burning with sleep.

Next thing he knew something was coaxing him to open his eyes. Vision blury he cracked his heavy lids open and in the darkness he saw Lily standing in front of him. God she was beautiful. He thought to himself, she was the only thing he'd ever need. If he survived the war, if they made it out of this alive he was gonna marry this girl. Even in his sleep fogged brain he was certain of that.

That thought jogged something in him. The feel of her hands tugging at him gently forced his eyes open even more. FInally his mind cleared. He wasn't in a frozen foxhole, his hands weren't stained with blood. The woman of his dreams was really standing in front of him. His wife was standing in front of him. Lily. He'd made it home and he'd married her.

"Let's go back to bed." Her voice was soft like her smile

Like most nights the thought that brought him peace when he found himself startled awake was Lily. He'd made it home to Louisiana. He'd married Lily Beauchesne and she'd given him a son. They had made a home together.

His eyes finally focused he smiled and hefted himself up onto his feet and settled his hands on Lilys hips and kissed her. Long and slow and sweet he moved his lips over hers and enjoyed the feel of her melting into him and her mouth opened under his. Eventually her hands pressed against his bare chest and pushed away from him barely.

Gene took in the sight of her, the feel of her, his eyes dark, "I still wake up sometimes thinkin', thinkin' all this just another one of my daydreams. Kind I used to have, over there."

"About me?" Lily whispered with a smile.

"Of course, about you cher." He shook his head and flexed his hands at her waist pulling her in tighter against him. Kissing her again, still longer and slower as she wrapped her arms up around his neck and moaned into his mouth.

She let him tug her close, enjoyed the way his eyes had darkened but still looked half asleep as he pulled away from her the smallest distance necessary to speak. "Just checkin'." Lily smirked and kissed him once more. Then she stepped back and took her hand in his and led him to the screen door with the intention of going back inside.

Her husband had a slightly different idea though as he stopped her in her track just in front of the door, hands on her hips and pulling her back into him as he ducked down to stroke her hair to the side and kissed the side of her neck. When she instantly leaned back against him he chuckled moved his hands under the shirt she wore as he mouthed at her neck greedily. Lily moaned in his arms and he smirked as he lifted his lips to whisper against her ear. "Don't think I'm ready to go back to bed just yet cher."

The End

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #doc roe #eugene roe #eugene roe x ofc #hbowar #band of brothers x ofc #eugene doc roe

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sergeant-spoons · 3 months

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New chapter of DCAW just dropped...

Hey, as long as he's a paratrooper. | 56. Where You Go, I'm Going/So Jump, And I'm... (tumblr.com)

(It's been so long 🙈🙈)

#destiny carries a wrench #destiny carries a wrench update #leslie sheppard #band of brothers

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sleepisforcowards · 1 year

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“My girl” - Joe Liebgott

Warnings- swearing, mild violence, sexism, creepymen

dedicated to my mate Leah

Based on the tv show band of brothers (not the actual soldiers of easy company)

You can’t quite remember how you got into this situation but you where sure you’d rather be anywhere else.

The english soldier’s mouth was moving but you’d long ago tuned out of the conversation, he had walked over to you so confidently and asked to buy you a drink and next thing you know you’ve been stuck for nearly an hour with this man, who was running his mouth about how brave and amazing he seemed to think he was. Not once was a question directed to you, nor did he seem to acknowledge the fact that he was indeed speaking to another person rather than a brick wall.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain paratrooper had took an interest in you and the English soldiers interaction, or lack of.

“I might as well be in charge of the whole thing by now, I mean I’m clearly-”

“Y/n, you in for a game of darts?”

Your prayers had been answered as Joe cut the man off from his sentence.

He stood in front of you, hands shoved in his pockets and his signature smirk plastered on his face. You couldn’t help but admire your friend, he did clean up nicely. His normally fluffy hair now gelled and out of his face revealing his deep brown eyes. You felt your skin heat up slightly at his gaze and nodded your head before turning to the soldier sat in front of you, who was looking at Joe with a sharp glare.

“It was nice speaking to you” you excused yourself with a tight-lipped smile.

You walked away with Joe, faltering when you felt a harsh tug on your wrist. Whipping around you frowned at the soldier and pulled your arm back,

“Hey buddy, back off alright?” You heard Joe say as he wrapped a protective arm around your waist.

“I bought you a drink doll, are you not gonna give me anything back?”

Your eyebrows scrunched at the mans words, “excuse me?”

“You heard me, I didn’t buy you a drink for nothing” he sneered, the look on his face making you feel sick to your stomach.

“Hey. I said back the fuck off alright?” Joe stated again, stepping closer to him.

“Joe leave it, let’s go play darts okay?“ you tugged him away from the man, not wanting the situation to escalate as Joe looked at you. He nodded his head silently and the both of you turned back to where you were going.

“That’s right!” The soldier called, his words slurred from the alcohol in his system, “listen to your fucking whore!”

You turned to joe in time to see the burning anger in his eyes, surprising you as he turned back and swung his fist and it hit the man square in the jaw.

The man punched back straight away and you watched with wide eyes as the two fought, crashing into a table as a crowd of people watched on.

It didn’t take long for the two to be split up, some of the mans friends coming to his aid and some of the easy boys coming to joes.

As George luz pulled Joe off the man, Joe shoved him off and stomped out of the bar with you chasing after him.

“What where you thinking Joseph!”

He turned to you and scoffed, “You think I was gonna let him say shit like that? Fuck no y/n. Fuck no”

Your eyes softened as you took in the young man before you, his lip was busted and the side of his face was bruising.

“Joe..” you spoke as he continued his rant,

“I’d never let anyone say that to you, never. Not to my girl, never”

Your head shot up as you processed his words, “wait what?”

He stopped mid sentence, looking at you just as confused, “huh?”

Your cheeks reddened, “your girl??”

Sure you’d sometimes considered Liebgott as more than a friend but you where sure he’d only ever see you as a little sister like the rest of easy company. and yet the pet name had fell from his mouth so naturally and if felt so right coming from him.

He flushed aswell but smiled, unlike his usual smirk he wore.

“Yeah.. I guess I did”

You both looked at each other as silence filled the air around you. A small smile tugged at your lips as you both leaned in to each other.

You could feel his warm breath on your face as your lips connected.

A/N- sos if this is awful I wrote it on the way back from an airport with extreme jet lag and I was half dead <3

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shoshimakesstuff · 2 years

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"Hey — long as he's a paratrooper."

#c: joe toye #show: band of brothers #soft joe and soft green #also 🔪 joe #what more could u want

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footprintsinthesxnd · 11 months

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Midnights

Pairings: Eugene Roe x f!reader Summary: Eugene and Y/n have been in love with each other since Toccoa. The pair final admit their feelings for each other and things get a little heated. Warnings: smut, sexual images, 18+, minors dni Disclaimer: any writing of Band of Brothers characters is strictly based of their fictional representation within the show and is meant as no disrespect to the real hero’s.

The beer was cool against Eugene’s lips as he raised the bottle, taking a long swig of the golden liquid. He watched the scene unfolding in front of him, as George Luz tried hopelessly to flirt with the poor barmaid who wasn’t the slightest bit interested. He’d been at it for the best part of an hour but he still hadn’t given up hope. Eugene and Babe Heffron gave up trying to help him, wanting to preserve what little dignity George still had left as the barmaid landed another wounding blow to his ego and resigned to a game of darts with Buck Compton and Joe Toye.

“The winner gets two packs of smokes?” Joe asked, twirling the dart delicately between his fingers, a smirk on his face.

“You’re on,” Babe replied, dragging Eugene with him who followed reluctantly, downing the rest of his beer before taking the darts from his friend and lining himself up with the board. “Go on Gene, show 'em what ya got.” Babe cheered, clapping his hands enthusiastically and causing a red tint to spread across Eugene’s cheeks. He threw the first two darts with ease, not letting the noise of the bar or the jeering from his comrades distract him. Before he threw the third dart, the door swung open letting in the cool evening breeze and sending a shiver down Eugene’s spine, a pleasant relief from the sticky sweat beneath his class A uniform. His dark eyes moved to the door where they met those of a certain female medic who was smiling jovially and waving at a group of his fellow Easy Company men. Eugene gulped, averting his eyes back to the darts board when he felt a hand appear on his shoulder. “Do I notice a blush on those cheeks, Eugene?” Buck whispered into his ear, causing Gene to duck away from him.

“No…got nothin’ to blush about…just warm in here,” Eugene tugged at the collar of his uniform, emphasising how warm he was.

“Sure thing, Doc,” Buck smirked at him as Eugene took his last turn before handing the darts off to Joe.

“Buck’s right you know,” Babe chimed in, following Eugene as he retreated to the bar. “You’ve just gotta talk to her, she’s a nice gal and if the way she’s been looking over here all night I reckon she feels the same way.”

Eugene leant forward, coughing frantically on the sip of beer he’d just taken.

“Christ Gene, don’t die on me,” Babe laughed, slapping the medics back playfully. Eugene gave Babe a stern glare causing the young paratrooper to put his hands up in mock surrender. “Just think about it.”

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

As the evening drew on, Eugene found his senses dwindling from the alcohol he’d consumed. He’d somehow been drawn into a drinking game with Chuck and Floyd and could feel his brain begin to falter as he fumbled his way through the bar to a seat in the corner. Eugene's mind was swaying aimlessly when a familiar figure sat down beside him, equally wobbly from their alcohol intoxication.

“Hey Genie,” she blushed, running her hand through his dark locks causing him to freeze. “How’re you doing?” She mumbled, slumping down beside him.

“I… ’m okay… good…you?” Eugene gulped, glancing at Y/n as she grinned.

“I’m good but I’m even better now I’m here with you,” she grabbed ahold of his hands. “Do you want to get some air, it’s a little stuffy in here.” She bit her lip and batted her lashes. Eugene gulped again.

“Yeah, course…I’d…love to.”

Y/n grabbed hold of his hand, leading him between the crowds of paratroopers to the door, a few whistles and shouts of ‘go get her Gene’ followed them.

The cool air brushed Eugene’s face, bringing some relief from the stifling heat of the bar. Taking a deep breath and watching as the air left his lungs in a small puff into the night, he began to feel some relief.

“Eugene, I need to tell you something. I’ve wanted to tell you for a while and now that we’re going back into combat I need to tell you before it’s too late and I don’t get the chance,” Y/n rambled, reeling off the sentences in one breath without turning to face him. Eugene moved slowly, fearful of frightening the panicked woman who stood before him. They were facing each other but Y/n wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Y/n?” He squeezed her hands lightly causing her to look up, his eyes pleading with her.

“You don’t feel the same do you?” She asked, her bottom lip began to quiver and her eyes watery. The image broke Eugene’s heart and he quickly stepped forward pulling the young woman into his chest. Her shoulders shook a little and he rushed to comfort her. “Shhh mon amour, please don’tcha think that,” Eugene begged, pressing his lips firmly to her hairline in a desperate attempt to bring her some comfort.

“I have loved ya since I laid eyes on you, ain’t ya the most beautiful, strong and brave woman I ever seen,” this time it was Eugene’s turn to ramble. “I was just too afraid in case ya didn’t feel the same.”

Y/n looked up a little shell shocked from his confession. She’d never heard the Cajun man speak so plainly or so much that she wasn’t sure how to reply, instead she grabbed hold of his collar, pushing her lips to his. Eugene let out a small yelp of protest before he too cercumed to the kiss, winding his arms around her waist and holding her firmly against him.

When they pulled apart Y/n was smiling widely, “Do you maybe want to walk me to my billet?” She bit her lip, watching as the cogs of Eugene’s mind turned frantically.

“Y…yes,” he finally stuttered, taking hold of her arm and they began the short journey to the house where Y/n was staying.

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

“We shouldn't be doin’ this,” Eugene groaned as she began placing hot, open-mouth kisses along his jugular, nipping at the sensitive flesh. “Y/n.” His hands gripped ahold of her hips, stopping any movement and causing Y/n to look up, her eyebrows furrowed as she watched him worriedly. Had she overstepped the line? Did he not want her? It had been pretty clear how he was feeling when he’d carried her up the stairs, stripping her of her clothes as they went. Y/n swiftly climbed off his lap, stepping away from him and straightening the nonexistent creases in her uniform shirt. “I'm sorry… Gene, I'm so sorry… I didn’t,” she began digressing, unable to meet his eyes as her lips ran wild, words tumbling from them at an embarrassingly rapid rate.

Eugene stood quickly, stepping over towards her and grasping hold of her hands, bringing them up to his lips and silencing her ramblings.

“It ain’t that at all, ma chérie, of course, I want ya. I've wanted ya for so long but I needa make sure ya want this too. I need to know how far ya wanna go with this because honestly,” he paused, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck awkwardly. “I don’t think I'll be able to stop myself once we’ve started. God, I'm weak.” Eugene slumped back down on the bed, running his hand over his face with a low groan, “It’s just that I’ve never felt this way before and I know it's wrong and we shouldn’t but I…” Gene was silenced by Y/n’s lips pressing firmly to his, her hand winding around his neck and into his hair as his hands came to rest upon her hips.

“I want this, Gene,” she breathed, her breath fanning over the sensitive skin of his neck. “I want you.”

It was as if a switch flicked in Eugene’s mind because the next thing Y/n knew she was pinned beneath him, his strong arms resting on either side of her head, his mouth sucking deep bruises on her abdomen and his hands trailing down her sides, stroking her hips lovingly.

“Gene,” she gasped as he grazed his teeth along the skin of her lower abdomen. “God, yes Gene. Yes!” Eugene’s hands worked quickly, slipping her underwear down her legs and discarding them across the room, placing small kisses on her thighs.

Eugene couldn’t believe his luck when he looked up at Y/n, the woman he’d been in love with since Toccoa was here, beneath him, letting him make love to her. The smell of her hair, the soft moans that left her perfect mouth, and her salty, sweaty skin beneath his lips drove him wild. His lips worked quickly, lapping and kissing between her thighs until she was a moaning mess, hands fisted into the bedsheets, back arching off the bed.

“Eugene, please,” Y/n all but cried, fisting her hands into his dark locks, tugging him upwards to kiss him. Eugene’s lips curled up into a smirk, his dark eyes shining. “Please Gene, I need you.” She begged, pulling him flush against her body and fiddling at the buckle of his trousers desperately.

“Someone’s needy, ain’t ya Darlin’,” Gene asked, smoothing down the loose hairs from around her face. Y/n managed to slip her hand down into his underwear, fingers grazing against his hard cock, pulling it free from his trousers. Eugene let out a shaky breath, his hands stabilising himself against the headboard.

“God preserve me,” he muttered through gritted teeth as Y/n ran her thumb over his red tip. Y/n smiled up at him, running her other hand softly over his cheek.

“I love you, Eugene.”

“I love to too, Ma Chérie.” He sealed his lips to hers, stealing the air from her lungs. Gene’s hands shook with anticipation as he dragged the head of his cock up and down your sex agonisingly slow. Eugene let out a choked sound as he sunk into her, both of them reeling at the feeling of fullness. Y/n’s hands gripping tightly to his shoulders, leaving deep red marks on his pale flesh.

“You’re so tight,” he grunted, pulling back slightly before rocking himself forward. Y/n groaned, squeezing her pelvic muscles as Eugene bit back a pained whimper escaping from his plump lips.

Y/n chuckled slightly and did it again, his grip tightening on her hips and he sent her a warning glare. Eugene’s thrust became more desperate, needier. His hands moved to pin hers above her head, chests impossibly close.

The room was quickly filled with soft moans and needy whines as he brought her to the edge. Y/n’s eyes were closed, too consumed by the pleasure building in her stomach, the knot tightening deep in her abdomen.

“Look at me ma Chérie, I want to see ya. I need ya to look at me.” Eugene pleaded, his voice strained as he too fought his orgasm. As Y/n opened her eyes the band snapped and she was sent spiraling into her ecstasy, hips bucking upwards uncontrollably. Eugene soon followed, cumming with a loud cry as he buried his head into her neck, loud breaths muffled by her flesh.

The couple lay there for a few minutes, both too exhausted to move or speak, too wrapped up in their moment of satisfaction.

“Eugene,” Y/n spoke slowly, carding her fingers through his locks. Eugene let out a small hum in response, tilting his head to look at her. “Thank you.”

“What for, Darlin’?” He asked, propping himself up above her.

“For this. For making me feel this way… for loving me,” she admitted sheepishly. Eugene's normally shy features burst with love, his smile growing wider than ever. “It weren’t difficult ma Chérie. It was real easy to love you and I found it impossible to stop myself from loving ya.” He admitted, a red hue growing across his cheeks causing Y/n to smile too.

“Well, I’m very glad you didn’t stop yourself. I love you.” She caressed his cheek, leaning their foreheads together lovingly. “As do I, ma Chérie.”

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

Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @maggiescarborough @mayhem24-7forever @ssprayberrythings @xoxabs88xox @luckyladycreator2 @elenavampire21 @callmemana @t-nd-rfoot @desert-fern @cherrycola27 @jstarr86 @starkleila @alexxavicry @roostette @floralfloyd @soulmates8 @mayhemmanaged @shanimallina87 @shadowsintheknight @bcon24 @yeahcurrahhe-e @iceman-kazansky @softly-writes

#eugene roe #doc roe #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers #medic #Eugene roe x reader #101stairbornedivision #101st airborne division #airborne #ww2 #hbo war #hbo war imagine

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cody-helix02 · 2 years

Text

Sooo hey guys I wrote a new fic.... this time it is a Speirs one. Don't ask me how that happend but it did...I listened to a playlist of mine and just got inspired. 😅 And yes it is similar to the leaf one but this here was sitting in my drafts for a while longer 😌🤣 ( Love me some hurt/angst stuff so...and don't ask about the fic titel I got bored lol) I hope you guys enjoy it 😌

( WARNINGS: Mention of death, blood and weapons...that's it lol)

Losing bloody flowerpetals...

Panic. Blood. Snow. Coldness. Her eyesight was obscured by all of it. Normally being alone was a relieve, was supposed to ground her. Give her peace. But this time it frightened her. It wasn't supposed to...it wasn't but...lost. She was lost in a forest packed with snow, ripped up and splintered tree carcasses, dead animals and people frozen from the cold.

She couldn't scream for help. Her lungs burned from stumbling over the dead and branches for what felt like hours now. If she screamed through the pain it could alert the enemy. She didn't know how far away she was from the frontlines, from her Company. Turning and lookin around, the sea of red, white and brown stretched endlessly.

Letting out a shuddering breath, the cold had eaten the last bit of warmth she had tried to keep in her chest, she slowly started walkin again. Clutchin the rifle with stiff arms. Tryin to assess the surrounding area all at once, so she wouldn't get surprised. The eiry quietness didn't help her sanity.

Then. A crack. Branches. A metal clinkin into place. Hushed whispers. Run! Her head screamed and she did, even tho her legs nearly gave out. A sharp ziping sound past her helmet. Another metal clinking. Faster! She had to be faster cause she couldn't turn around to return the fire. Panicked breaths steamed out of already ripping lungs. Jumping over branches and death even tho the legs didn't want to.

A last chance. The enemy had already discoverd her. So she screamed. It wouldn't come out at first. Her throat to sore from not drinkin or speakin for such a long time. Tryin again and again until:" OVER HERE!!". Finally. Finally it worked. The bullets still ripping past her. The enemy not far behind.

Again and Again and...a sharp pain bore itself into ice cold flesh. Nearly silencing the panicked voice. Ankles and knees nearly breakin under the sudden intrusion. Feet slipping over frozen wood as she leapt over a large heap of fallen trees. Closing her eyes it felt like flying. Like a bird spreading it's wings into freedom. How right she was.

Landing in an embrace of strong arms, taking the last breath she had. Slumping into the man like dead weight. Panic shooting through her veigns but she couldn't move. Her limps so heavy and cold. The wounds on her legs to painfull now that she stopped running.

He didn't let her go. Heard the gunshots zipping over and in to the wood. Hoisting her in a bridal carry, turning around on steady legs, adrenalin pumping through his veigns, he started running. Flying over the snow and dead like it couldn't touch him.

Finally she opened her eyes again. Relieve stubbed out the panic in her heavy body. Another paratrooper. Not from E-company but she didn't care. She was safe now.

Deep breaths pumped through fast workin lungs. Strong, from the cold licked, legs flew over an icy, snow and blood packed ground. Helmet rateling, dark curly hair plastered to a red splotched forhead. Scruffy beard over snowy skin and piercing hazel eyes lookin steadily onwards. Muscular but stiff arms gripping the limp body in a tight embrace. One uniform sleeve soaked in warm red blood.

Faster! Run faster! His head screamed at him. And he did. Screaming for a medic wasn't an option yet but they were close. Only a few more meters. Jumping over abandoned, bombed out foxholes. Clutchin her even closer to his chest. He finally passed the line. Passed the boarder. And they opened fire...

@georgelust @multifandomlover01 @almost-a-class-act @mash-the-buttons ( tagging you so nobody cries lol xD)

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #easy company #ronald speirs #x reader #angst #hbo war

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softguarnere · 2 years

Note

Totally loved your Shifty fic. I'd like to request something with the same prompt, if it's okay.

[ no tears ] – for the sender to cup the receiver’s face and brush away their tears with their thumbs.

[ what a rush ] – for the long long overdue kiss to end, only for the sender to rest their head on the receiver’s, and comment “do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

The sender is reader, and the receiver is Toye or Babe.

xoxo

I Don't Want You to Hide Your Issues (Blow Them into Your Tissues)

Babe Heffron x reader

A/N: If you guys thought that I was excited for my soft!Speirs agenda, know that I am ready and willing to provide soft! content for the other boys to :) Anon, I'm so glad you liked the Shifty fic, and I hope you like this one! Thanks for the request 💕

Warnings: Smoking, mentions of war, slight angst, more poorly written kiss scenes by yours truly (Also, is kissing NSFW? I genuinely don't know, but if it is, then this is your warning, because there's a kiss)

"Thought that I might find you here."

You take another long drag from your cigarette and lean back on your elbows, looking up from where you're lounging on the grass. Austrian sunshine warms your face, but Babe's sudden sunshine warms your soul. Although, from something on his face, a cloud has seemed to blow in on a breeze out of nowhere, casting a shadow over his mood in a way that only his close friends would recognize.

You blow a smoke ring. "Oh really? You know me so well."

"Nah. Lucky guess, actually." The Philly boy flops down on the grass beside you. Nimble fingers pluck your cigarette away and he inhales deeply from it before he passes it back to you. "For the record, my team was winning." He gives you a sideways glance, teasing. "Is that why you stepped away? Sore loser?"

Right, the baseball game. Only a few moments ago, you had been intent on beating Babe's team, but the field has been cleared of the equipment and abandoned by the men as they all raced away, distracted by the flood of giddiness at the announcement of the war being over and a victory for the Allies.

"I didn't step away; everyone else was leaving. I just wanted a moment alone, to take it all in."

"Yeah. Me too, I guess." He shifts so that he can better look at you. You let him. You like looking at him. You like it when he looks at you. It's been like this ever since he joined the company.

You just wish he would do something about it.

Or rather, that he had done something about it. The war is now over, you have to remind yourself, and you'll be headed home soon.

To allow Babe another minute to admire you in the sunshine, you take another drag from your cigarette, exhale the smoke and ask, "What are you thinking about?"

Usually, he would give you a funny or sarcastic answer. Today, he says nothing -- he only gasps, sharp and painful.

"Babe?" When you turn to him you can see the tears glittering on his cheeks as the afternoon sunshine hits them. His long, pale fingers tangle in the grass as he trembles, crying while he looks at you.

"Hey, hey, Babe. What's wrong?" Carefully, you put out the last bit of your cigarette and sit up on the grass, turning to him. You should comfort him, somehow, but how do you comfort someone when you don't know why they're crying to begin with?

Gently, you bring your hands up to his face and turn it towards you. Sadness fills his eyes as he draws a shaky breath. Using your thumbs, you carefully brush away the tears that cascade down his cheeks, just like your loved ones used to do for you when you were a child -- something that feels like a hundred years ago since you joined the paratroopers.

"Babe, what's the matter?" You try to keep your voice calm, but you can't hide the shake that comes through in an undercurrent of uncertainty. "Why are you crying? We won the war. And you won the game."

A noise somewhere between a laugh and a watery gasp escapes him. One of his hands untangles itself from the grass and comes up to find yours where it still rests on his cheek. "Because we're goin' home now, (Y/N). Me to Philly, and you . . ."

"To my hometown," you finish. Only moments before, your heart had felt light at the prospect of going home -- back to your family, your friends, a familiar bed. Now, Babe's words make it sink a little.

"I'm worried, too," you assure him. "I'm not the person I once was; the war changed me. I'll go home expecting everything to go back to normal, but what if I can't? What if I no longer belong there?"

Babe nods. "Yeah. Yeah, I think we're all a little worried about that. But the thing I won't be able to get used to is not seein' you every day."

Oh. In your chest, your heartbeat falters as you try not to get your hopes up.

"God," his sigh is sharp. "I wanted to tell you so many times, and not like this. Jesus Christ, I'm a mess." He laughs, but it's hollow -- not his usual, upbeat, Philly-tinged guffaw. You move your hands as he brushes away his own tears. "(Y/N), I don't wanna go home if it means not seein' you again."

He rushes on before you can react. "I mean, yeah, I could write you letters or call you up on the phone, but God, it just wouldn't be the same. I don't think I could stand it, knowin' that you're miles and miles away, and that one day we might stop replying to each other because life picks up, gets too busy. No -- I wanna wake up and see you're smilin' face, and I wanna make you coffee and sing off-key to make you laugh --" He cuts himself off, his face turning as red as his hair as he takes in your wide-eyed expression. "Sorry. I just couldn't go on having not at least told you, even if you don't feel the same." In all the time you've known him, you can't remember him ever sounding embarrassed. "Sorry."

Your breathes somehow feel both heavy and not deep enough as you try to take it all in. From the moment you met him, from the second you heard him laugh as he joked around with Bill and Joe in that pub, you had wanted to be something more than his friend. And now he's sitting in front of you, crying, like a man making his final confession. Once, you had allowed yourself to imagine confessing your feelings to him. You had tried to work out what you would say. But now the moment is here, and you don't know what to tell him.

Instead, you move your hand along the grass and take his, stopping it from tearing up the Austrian soil. You place your other hand over his and can only manage a whisper of, "That's what I want, too."

He looks up. "You do?"

"Yes. All this time."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I was scared," you admit, even though it feels stupid to say now, when anyone could tell from looking at the two of you that you've felt the same way this whole time. "Why didn't you?"

Babe shakes his head, smiles a little. "I was scared, too."

"Can I - ?" You gesture vaguely between you. "I mean, can we - ?"

"Yes," Babe replies. "God, yes!"

His lips are a little chapped from where he always bites them when he's thinking, but his kiss is soft when your mouths crash together. Despite the firework show happening in your chest, you move your mouth slowly, determined to make it last. Babe's hand comes up to hold your face, and you run one of your hands through the back of his hair, making him gasp. When you finally surface for air, his breath is shaky, but no longer from crying. He smiles when you rest your forehead against his.

You let out a laugh, suddenly giddy. "Do you know long I've wanted to do that?"

Babe laughs again, coming back to his usual self. "Well in that case, maybe we should do it again."

You slap his shoulder, but there's no malice in it. "Only if you promise to kiss me that good every morning when we get back to Philly."

The Austrian sunshine cannot compare to the grin that lights up his face. "Doll, you've got yourself a deal!"

#not me writing dramatic love confessions when my one (1) attempt at a love confession in high school went so badly lmaooooo #No but I had so much fun writing this #thanks for the request Anon #back on my soft!Easy agenda #there now i have a tag for it #band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #anonymous #my writing #babe heffron #babe heffron x reader

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mads-weasley · 9 months

Text

Epiphany Pt. 2: Out of the Woods

Lewis Nixon x Reader

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

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

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

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: mentions of death, blood

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don, George, Skip, Alex, Frank, Lip…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JUNE 6th, 1944: UPOTTERY AIRFIELD

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See? Voilà.”

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

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

“Fine,” she huffed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

D-Day had begun.

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

What if their stick blew up?

What if she was captured?

What if she was killed?

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

What if he was killed?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re gonna be okay, (y/n/n).”

Lew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ten okay!”

“Nine okay!”

“Eight okay!”

“Seven okay!”

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

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

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

“Four okay!”

“Three okay!”

“Two okay!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m hit!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you see the broad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When I was in college…”

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

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

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