#joe toye fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

siren-meets · 4 months

Text

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

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

Word count: 1820

Warnings: None! Platonic unless you squint ;)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” said Nora.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

36 notes · View notes

wexhappyxfew · 4 months

Text

mercy codona (of and then the dawn came, a band of brothers fic ) — chapter excerpt

Sometimes on weekends, when they weren't in training or there weren't long 3-day overnight training sessions, Mercy would usually go for a run as the sun was rising. By mid-November, the runs were filled with cold puffs of air floating to the sky, her burning throat, aching muscles, and her red, crimson cheeks shining on her face. If anything, it usually gave her a lot of time to think.

Almost too much time.

She'd think about her youth, her mother, her father, a past she no longer was connected to, but would think on and breakdown over when the time was warranted.

She wondered if in another world, her father was proud of her.

She wondered if he would've cared.

She wondered if he would've been there to send her off, to give her a hug, a farewell. In another world.

In reality, she'd gone to that train station alone, with a poor excuse for a satchel and disappeared from Fort Wayne, Indiana for good.

It sometimes choked her up - she was never good with emotions - explaining them, feeling them, knowing what they meant. No one had told her that growing up the way she did would leave her with that lacking capability. No one told her the lasting effects it'd leave or the emotions she'd have to grapple.

Mercy came to a small clearing where her and Esther had gone sometimes to sit and stare at the sunshine or the grey clouds, covered in wavering fields of overgrown grasses, and willow trees hanging over small ponds or bushes. Slowly, she settled on a rock and let her heart rate come to a normal speed, before letting out a deep breath.

" Half-pint?" Mercy looked over her shoulder and found Joe Toye there, hands on his hips, out of breath, hair sticking to the sides of his face and forehead, walking towards her with a raised brow.

" Hey," Mercy said, wiping a hand across her forehead," didn't think anyone else was out here." Joe shrugged and let out a cough before clearing his throat to sit beside her.

" Ditto."

ie: my most favorite chaotic smol character of attdc who needs so many hugs and so much gentleness, and one i will protect with my life + she gets multiple chapter POVs throughout the fic and some of her moments in the fic are my fav hehe :) so enjoy!!! her chapter will be in the future!

#MERCY!!!!!#been doing a lot of talk about esther lately but mercy is there with her the entire time and absolutely ICONIC!#esther’s usually calm and controlled and mercy is just chaotic af but also so incredibly caring and loyal #and i love that about writing her so so much #also she’s like a lil sister to joe toye so i couldn’t help but give it a feature with her internal spiral of monologue #love writing her sm and the moodboard is VIBES!#enjoy!#band of brothers #attdc #and then the dawn came #mercy codona #(she also takes some neat photographs during the war so we love <3)#bob fic #band of brothers fic

16 notes · View notes

hellitwasyoufirstsergeant · 2 years

Text

Kinktober - Joe Toye + thigh riding

Warnings: smut, obviously

“Hey baby,” your husband called out as he heard the front door slam. You grumbled a hello in response as you disposed of your shoes and jacket, stockinged feet padding across the floor to find Joe. “Ooof,” he let out a groan as you unceremoniously clambered onto his lap and pressed yourself against him as close as you could get.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, breathing in his signature scent, finally feeling at peace after such a shitty day. You could feel the warmth of his large hand on your back, gently stroking up and down. He didn’t push you to talk, although he could tell something was wrong.

“I love you,” you mumbled into his chest.

“I love you too, princess,” he kissed the top of your head. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong? Or what I can do to help?” You could hear the love laced in his voice and it almost made you want to cry - you might have done if you weren’t so damn tired.

“Just had a bad day,” you shrugged, forcing yourself to pull your head up so that your gaze could meet his. As you moved your head up, your whole body moved back slightly, to avoid hitting Joe’s chin. Since your skirt had ridden up when you’d climbed onto Joe’s lap, only your panties separated your pussy from Joe’s thigh. And as your body moved, your clothed core accidentally rubbed across his thigh.

To your embarrassment, you let out a small moan. You could tell by the flash of surprise in Joe’s eyes that he’d heard it, so you leant forward to bury your head in his neck to hide your flushed cheeks.

In doing so, you ended up grinding his thigh once more, and this time the fabric of his trousers caught at your clothed clit. There was no way you’d be able to play off that moan.

“Feel good, baby?” Joe asked, having caught on to what happened. You nodded into his neck, your breath hot on his skin and making him feel a little dizzy. “Wanna carry on?”

“Too tired,” you weren’t lying, your voice was barely higher than a whisper because you didn’t have the energy to speak properly.

“I’ll do it for you, yeah?” His hands reached to grip your hips in anticipation.

“Yes please.” Once he’d received your consent, he began to move you back and forth on his thigh, tensing the muscles in his thigh to better pleasure you.

“More.” Joe understood what you were asking for, and he pulled your panties aside so there was no longer a barrier between your now aching pussy and his thigh. In pressing you down again, he elicited a long moan from you, which vibrated against his neck.

You sat up a little so that you could get a kiss, and he obliged you the moment he saw your pout. The kiss took your breath away, his tongue slipping into your mouth and dominating yours. You began to join his movements more actively, grinding your clit down more and more, getting closer and closer to the edge.

One of his hands reached up to stroke your cheek, his thumb rubbing across the skin in a gesture so loving you thought your heart might burst right out of your chest.

“I fuckin’ love you, ya know?” His forehead pressed against yours as he moved in for another kiss, a fervent one, as if he was trying to prove to you with his lips how deep and true his love for you is and always will be.

Your clit was rubbing against his pants at the exact right angle, his hand on your hip continuing to do most of the work.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you pulled away from the kiss, needing to get some air in your lungs. His eyes kept locked to yours, and the intensity of his gaze only heighted the intimacy and pleasure of the moment. Your legs started turning to jelly and your hand gripped Joe’s muscly bicep, needing something to cling to. The knot in your stomach began to tighten.

“Come for me, princess. Let go.” His words were all you needed before you let your orgasm wash over you, Joe’s grip on your hips tightening even more as he continued to rock you through your peak. You tensed and your thighs shook slightly as your climax overtook your body. His strong arms wrapped around yours and pulled you into him as your chest heaved.

“Feel better?”

“Yeah,” he could feel you smiling against him.

Please help a writer out and reblog if you enjoyed my work! 💗

#band of brothers #band of brothers fic #band of brothers smut #band of brothers x reader #joe toye #joe toye smut #joe toye x you #joe toye x reader #joe toye x female reader #hellitwasyoufirstsergeant #angie writes #angie’s kinktober

150 notes · View notes

softguarnere · 2 years

Note

hey, your soft!boys are just incredible, I enjoy reading each of your fics with them 😳

the last one with babe is just uhhh 😫❤️

never paid much attention to him and now he's deffo one of my top ten favorite.

I would like to request something soft as well. you know my fave, but the pairing choice is yours :)

prompts:

' does it hurt? ' from here (said by reader)

' i don’t have perfect words. i’m not the kind of person who knows how to sound poetic and shit. so all i know what to tell you is that i belong to you. i don’t know if you want me. but i’m yours. and at this point however it is you need me, i’m here. ' from here (said by an easy guy)

Hoping That There's Something Coming (It's Not the Same)

Bill Guarnere x reader

A/N: Hi love! I'm so glad you like them, because I really enjoy working on those requests :) I had originally planned to write this for Joe, but once I got going with it, it just kinda ended up going in a completely different direction -- I hope you don't mind! Thank you for another great request, and I hope you enjoy this (As always, this is written for the fictional depiction from the show -- no disrespect to the real life veterans!) 💕🕊️

Warnings: Hospitals, mentions of war, language, injury

Back home in the States, a clean, sterile smell would greet you whenever you walked into a doctor's office or hospital; a potpourri of bleach and gauze and medicine. Looking back, you're not sure what you expected, but the field hospital is nothing like that.

You knew that you were one of the lucky ones -- how could you not, when it seems like all anyone talks about is their various scrapes and wounds and purple hearts -- but even with all the horror stories your friends had relayed to you, you didn't think the aid stations and hospitals would be so dismal.

"You've really never been in one of these before?" Doc Roe shoots you a sideways glance when you stop near the doorway, the sights and smells of the place freezing you in your tracks as you take it all in. When you don't move, he steps back towards you and gently touches your elbow, trying to ground you. "Hey, we can go back to the line if you need to. Not everyone can stomach this type of thing; there's no shame in it."

The misery and pain that fills the place isn't what's stopped you in your tracks. You've seen plenty of that in combat, and it's really nothing new.

No, what makes you stop is the cold that runs down your spine when the realization hits you: Bill is staying in this awful place.

"No." You push your shoulders back, determined. "No, I need to see him. To know that he's okay."

Doc searches your face. Whatever he's looking for, he must find it, because a second later the crease between his brows smooths out and he nods, leading you further into the hospital.

Your stomach is a stormy sea of nerves the further you go. You hadn't heard from or seen Bill since they rushed him and Toye away from Bastogne, and every day with no update made you fear the worst. It had been kind for Doc to offer to bring you to him, but now that you're here, some kind of worry washes over you. What if there's a reason that you haven't heard anything yet?

All at once, Doc stops in front of a bed. The man lying in it -- Joe, it takes you a minute to realize -- glances up, but then his eyes catch on you, and one of his reserved but playful smiles lights up his face.

"Well, if it isn't the fiercest lil' paratrooper in the PIR. You finally get hit, (Y/N)?"

Relief starts to poke its way through the worry you had been feeling, slowly, and then it rushes over you, like ink spilling onto a piece of paper. Toye and Guarnere had been some of your best friends since Toccoa. Watching them get hit was hard, and half of your worry was admittedly from wondering what had happened to them when they were taken off the line. But if Joe is back to teasing you, then maybe . . .

"Hey, Joe. How they treating you?"

At the sound of your voice, the man in the next bed over looks up from a piece of paper he had been mulling over. Disbelief clouds Bill's face, briefly, and then he smiles, wading up the paper like it hadn't been bothering him just a moment before.

"Well, at least it's not cold here," Toye says, forever putting up a tough front.

"Yeah, whole lot warmer with you here now, Sunshine," Bill adds.

You laugh at the teasing, if only to chase away the lump that starts to build in your throat at the sight of your friends. They're injured, but they're alive, and you're together again. There are so many things that you want to tell them, but where to start? All you really want to do is magically reverse things back to the way they used to be, before that awful shelling that --

"You wanna sit down and visit with us?" Joe asks. His brow is furrowed; he's always been better at reading his friends than most people give him credit for. He shifts his remaining leg so that you can sit on the edge of the bed, seated between him and Bill so that you can talk to them both.

The good thing about strong friendships is that they can almost always pick up where they left off. Even after everything that has happened, soon the three of you are joking around and exchanging gossip as if it's any other day. It only ends when Joe grunts, his face screwing up in pain as he takes in a sharp breath.

Doc Roe is in Medic Mode in a second. "What do you need, Joe? You want me to get a nurse?"

Things are different now, the cloud that falls over the mood after that seems to say. A nurse administers something for the pain, and then Joe can't keep his eyes open very well -- he drifts off into the kind of sleep that he hadn't been able to afford while on the line, though he wears a pensive expression on his face, even in sleep. It's similar to the expression that Doc Roe has been making lately -- the one he makes when the nurse leads him off and has him start helping with other patients.

Bill pats his own bed. "You can sit over here so that we don't wake him up." Something on his face changes, like he's said something that he shouldn't have. "I mean, if you wanna stay, that is."

"Of course I do." You change seats, trying to ignore the jittery feeling that replaces your heartbeat when you sit next to him. Wild Bill Guarnere has always had that effect on you, but for the sake of the war and your friendship, you've never acted on those feelings.

Well, there was the time back in England where you both had a little too much to drink and kissed each other, but neither of you ever talked about what that meant.

And now you won't; Bill will be shipped back home to Philly, and you back to the line.

You try to chase the thought from your head. All you can do now is enjoy the present moment while it lasts. It was so much easier when you had Toye and Roe as part of that moment, though.

"Does it hurt?" As soon as the words are out of your mouth, you regret them, even though Bill doesn't seem to mind.

"Yeah, sometimes. I think some of it is just the getting used to it."

"I worried about you, you know," you admit. "I don't really remember it, but apparently I tried to chase after you and Toye when they hauled you off. Somebody had to hold me back while the Jeeps drove away."

Bill chuckles. "We just can't stop being a package deal, huh?"

The sound of crinkling paper draws your attention as Guarnere moves the piece of paper he had waded up when you came in.

"Bad news from the homefront?"

"What? Oh, no. Just . . . trying to get it right. It's hard to put thoughts on paper in this place. I'm no Webster."

"Thank God for that." You want something else to say, but it's like grasping at straws. God, why was it so much easier before? Bill is your friend and you should be able to talk to him. Something about knowing that he's leaving though, and that you'll still be in Europe, without him, without many of your other friends, causes a rising since of panic that's so heavy it could crush your chest. "You'd be a good writer, though. You always have something witty to say. I miss having that back at the line."

He snorts. "Being quick and being able to write something coherent aren't the same. If it were I --"

The way he stops himself catches you off guard. It's like someone slamming on the breaks in a car before you can figure out why you've stopped. For a second it looks like maybe he'll stay quiet, but Bill Guarnere has never been able to stop himself from speaking his mind.

"Ah, fuck it." He smooths out the waded up paper and sighs. "You remember the night we kissed?"

Now you feel like you've been hit by the metaphorical car. "Yes."

"I've been thinkin' about it a lot." You have, too -- you haven't stopped thinking about it since it happened, if you're being honest -- but you let him continue. "Because it's kind of hit me, ya know? I thought that I would have more time. But now the war is over for me. And you've got to keep fighting. Anything could happen when we're an ocean apart."

It would be so easy to get your hopes up. You brace yourself, waiting to see which direction he will take.

"I tried to write you a letter, but . . ." He frowns at the wrinkled paper like it's personally offended him. "I don’t have perfect words. I’m not the kind of person who knows how to sound poetic and shit. So all I know what to tell you is that I belong to you. I don’t know if you want me. But I’m yours. And at this point however it is you need me, I’m here." He sighs, not meeting your eyes. "I just needed to get that off my chest before I have to go home."

"Oh my God," you whisper for lack of any other reaction that would be appropriate for a hospital. Anywhere else, you would have grabbed him and kissed him even harder and longer than the night back in England. Instead, you take his hand and bring it up to your mouth so you can kiss his knuckles. "You may be wild, Bill, but if I would trust anyone with my heart, it's you."

He finally meets your eyes, and they light up with his smile. A real, genuine smile that could chase away the gloom of the hospital around you. He leans back on his bed pillows, his smile so bright and real and reminiscent of a time before you were separated. "God, I wish that you could come back to Philly with me."

"Everything is different now," you agree. Your chest feels warm, and it easily gives way to hope, which brings an idea. "After the war, then. And we'll write to each other every day before then."

He nods. On the bed, your hands are still intertwined. He brings them up to kiss the back of yours, but he's still smiling so hard that his teeth bump your knuckles. "If I can read your handwriting," he teases, just like he usually would.

Bastogne changed everything, you realize. But some things remain the same. Either way, it feels good, in the end.

#lyrics from songs on my Spotify playlists once again coming through to provide me with fic titles #bill guarnere #bill guarnere x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #my writing #joe toye #eugene roe

66 notes · View notes

latibvles · 1 year

Note

See you’ve got my mind all over the place with these kiss requests but I was instantly drawn to the idea of 11 mixed with 24 for Speirs BUT if you don’t mind doing two or since you already did 11 with Ron and Dais then the 21 is always one of my favourites with Ron or Joe Toye because jealous men make me ridiculously weak in the knees

21 — JEALOUS KISS / send a kiss from this list.

Joe Toye was nothing if not prideful. Apparently, he gets it from his father. Well fuck his dad, because maybe if he kept it to himself — Joe wouldn’t be stewing in his own irritation while you have a great time. He’s got no reason to logically be mad, you’re with Bill and Don for Christ’s sake. Bill’s got his arm around your shoulders and Don’s said something to make you laugh, and the two men are more than aware that you’re his, but he just is.

His jaw clenches and he isn’t even registering what Luz and Penk are laughing about beside him as he downs the last of his beer, slamming the glass against the table before pushing himself to his feet and making his way towards the three of you. Don notices him first, smile lighting up his face, and Bill notices him shortly after. A chorus of “Hey Joe!”s and “Joe Toye!”s greet him. He keeps his eyes trained on you.

Just as you’re turning, he grabs you by the hips, pulling you towards him and pressing his lips to yours fervently. It takes you a second to process, but you return it quickly, arms wrapping around his neck. His fingers press into the plush skin of your hips, eyes squeezed shut, focusing on nothing but the heat of your lips and trying to pour all of his irritation into that; like beer flowing into a cup.

You break it, letting out a pleased hum and raising a curious brow.

“What’s got you so riled up, hm?” You ask in that way that makes something in Joe stir. He looks up at Bill and Don, then back to you.

“I’ll tell ya later,” he leans in, pressing another, briefer kiss to your lips. “What do you say we get outta here, eh?”

#first time writing Joe toye #which isn't saying much #but alas #I am an opportunist first and foremost #joe toye #joe toye x reader #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers fic #band of brothers

31 notes · View notes

sergeant-spoons · 1 year

Text

And Know That Only I ~ Pt II

Perrine Blomme (Perry Bloom)

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow @chaosklutz @wexhappyxfew @50svibes @tvserie-s-world @adamantiumdragonfly @ask-you-what-sir @whovian45810 @brokennerdalert @holdingforgeneralhugs @claire-bear-1218 @heirsoflilith @itswormtrain @actualtrashpanda @wtrpxrks

Part 2 of Follow Me, My Dear, And Know That Only I Will Follow You.

Title comes from the song “Long Way Around” by The Sweeplings.

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

The Airfield was as busy as a beehive on the morning of the big jump. It was to be Perry's first, and she considered herself rather fortunate that her luck had landed her with (supposedly) sleepy Holland. Every soldier from Private to Colonel bustled about, every minute demanding something new. The Toccoa men prepped themselves and the replacements tried to keep up; if they were lucky, they (like Perry or the newly-christened Babe) had an in with a Normandy veteran. Perry had just parted from Miller and Garcia, having been summoned by Sergeant Randleman for one last check-up. She could only suppose someone had let slip at her tiredness last night, and as she approached the sergeant, she found the culprit standing right at his side.

"Joe," she greeted him, then the others, "Sergeant. Doc."

"You feelin' alright, Bloom?" Doc Roe asked, studying her eyes and cheeks for signs of fever or delirium.

"Just peachy, Doc," she said. "No, wait, you're from the bayou, right?"

At his puzzled nod, she grinned.

"Then I'm fit as a croc, Doc."

Joe audibly groaned, but Randleman snorted, and Perry, pleased, prepared to convey her good nights' sleep and readiness for the jump. Before she could, however, something behind her caught the sergeant's eye and his smile dropped like a boulder off a cliff. Joe grabbed Perry by the shoulders and manhandled her behind Randleman and Roe, who'd stepped forward to conceal her.

"What the hell, guys?!" she yelped, trying to get around them, but they wouldn't let her. She had to grab Joe's shoulder and balance on her toes to see what was going on.

There was a transport going by with two men perched on the sides of the jeep, practically boot-to-shoulder with the driver. One of them sat with his chin up, bouncing merrily along with the rumbling of the jeep and waving to a few men he seemed to recognize, including Doc Roe. The other fellow—an officer, by the looks of his uniform—sat stiff as a gravestone, scanning the crowd with a thick glower.

"Who's that?" Perry asked, eyeing the second man. "He looks pissed."

"That there is Captain Sobel," Bull said, and she could tell without looking that something in his expression had soured.

"Oh, right." Perry gave a start. "Oh, shit. What's he doing here?"

"I don't know, and I don't want to find out."

"You sure? Something could be up."

Before she could try and slip around him, Joe grabbed Perry's arm and tugged her after him.

"Not for you to find out, either. Come on."

"Hey!" She pulled her arm back, ignoring the twinge it gave at the twisting motion. "For the last time, Joe I'm not a kid, so you can stop yanking me around, alright?"

His frown eased a bit, and when he nodded in the direction he wanted to take her, he seemed relieved when she continued to follow him. They skirted around the back of one tent and ducked into its neighbor, and Perry realized only once she was inside that it must be Joe's own. Well, it was the one he shared with Malarkey, but still—she felt suddenly bashful, put on the spot as if she was intruding on his childhood bedroom. There wasn't much left to witness, seeing as everyone had packed up that morning, but she could still smell his aftershave lingering in the closed air. It was the same used by all the men, but he added something to it that made the scent stand out—at least, to Perry it did. Maybe it was a spritz of cologne? She felt his hand on her arm and jumped, realizing too late that he'd asked her something she hadn't heard at all.

"Hey," he prodded. "You alright?"

Shaking off the strange urge to get up close to his face—to see if she was right about the cologne, of course—she had to ask him to repeat himself. Patient, he did, and she shrugged.

"Yeah, yeah, I, uh... I guess I got a bit spooked."

Starting with a truth seemed the way to go, and when he glanced out the open tarp flap toward the road where the transport had gone by, Perry jumped on the assumption.

"The way everybody talks about Sobel, it's like- like he's the monster under the bed, y'know? I never really expected to actually see him. And especially not here."

Joe sighed as he slung his pack onto the ground and knelt, shaking his head.

"You think he's jumping with us?"

He glanced up at her and she saw his frown had turned a bit stormy.

"Might be. If he is, chances are we'll leave him behind. He's too stubborn to listen to anybody out in the field, least of all his own sense—that's why we couldn't jump with him before. He'd get us all killed."

"Shit."

"Yeah. Shit."

He rose and stretched out his hands, and she saw he'd wrapped them as if the bandages were boxing tape.

"But enough about Sobel. If he jumps, he jumps."

He passed her a few strips for her own hands, and she couldn't keep a smile off her lips for long.

"Come on. One more time before we get on the planes."

As soon as she'd finished prepping her fists, she took up the stance he'd taught her and took a few quick practice swings. They mock-sparred for a bit until she managed to land a good one on his shoulder. He stumbled back and wobbled like he was about to fall, and Perry only understood he'd been messing around after she'd jumped forward and grabbed his shirt to steady him. He laughed, his hands coming to rest on her arms, and she squeezed his shirt as if displeased at his trickery when in reality she was just trying to keep her own balance.

"Thanks," he said, almost smirking, and Perry felt the fluttering in her chest maximize.

That was the first time he'd said just 'thanks' instead of 'thanks, kid'.

She stepped back, tugging at her hair, and Joe released her arms, nodding to her hands.

"You got 'em with you?"

She rifled through the inside pocket of her pack and showed him her brass knuckles. That gleam in his eyes from last night was back when he ruffled her hair and told her she'd done well. Leaning aside to peek out the tent flap, he missed the way her hand rose as if wanting to graze his chin and then fell just as quickly.

"Looks like Sobel's moved along," he reported. "You ready?"

She shrugged, starting to remove the wrappings.

"Ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

No glance or smile could have prepared her for the feeling of him taking her hands and unwrapping the rest of the bandages for her. It was such a tender and unexpected thing that she stood there and let him.

"No 'I guess'," he refuted, looking at her hands as he unwound the last strip. "You're gonna be fine."

"Right."

"Right?"

"I'm gonna be fine."

He stepped back, hesitated, and then held out the bandages to her.

"You'd better not need these out there."

Shaking her head, she pushed them back toward him, and he quirked a brow.

"No?"

"From what I've heard about your luck on D-Day," she replied, smiling faintly, "chances are, you'll need 'em."

He snorted and shook his head, but as he returned the bandages to his pack, she caught the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, betraying a kind of fondness that made her a little lightheaded.

"Yeah," he said, the gravel of his voice softening into sand, "you're probably right."

That day was a tumultuous one. The tall grass of Holland would have concealed one man, but a hundred helmets gleaming in the sun did little to disguise the advance. An orange flag welcomed them into Eindhoven, and by the time the better part of the company had entered the town, orange pennants had been strung from here to Kalamazoo. As men fell over themselves to flaunt their stations for the sake of a kiss (or a dozen), Perry searched for a way out of the crowd. Too many people meant too many close encounters and too high a chance of something going awry. She found Victor before long, but they'd only gone a few yards before they heard a kind of chanting from across the street. Perry, wan, hardly realized she'd jumped into the fray until four Dutchwoman were turning her away, their eyes downcast toward the blood and hair matting the cobblestones.

As soon as he caught up with her, Victor drew her aside, turmoil darkening his kind hazel eyes. Perry began to pace, the ugly scene just a few yards away filling her with a kind of rage she'd only felt once before in her life, on the day her mother abandoned the family. Stumbling her way out the door, a vodka bottle in hand, she'd turned to Clyde with venom in her eyes and spat that he was worthless. Perry—seeing red—nearly ran after her and gave her what for, but then Clyde began to cry and the brain fog lifted just enough for her to concede that violence wouldn't do any good. Seeing orange but feeling red this time, Perry was raring to start a fight. Victor agreed to back her up and they started back toward the abhorrent display, detouring only slightly to grab ahold of Joe and Doc Roe. The four Americans converged on the scene together, a spiteful Perry leading the charge, and started to chase off the spectators and perpetrators alike. In what seemed to be only a second, Perry found herself toe-to-toe with three scowling Dutchmen but would not back down, not for the sake of the first word and especially not the last. Victor came up to hover beside her as the argument boiled and bubbled until Perry came close to screaming at the inhumanity of it all.

“You do not know what we have lived-”

“No," she snapped, rage vibrating throughout her entire body, "I don’t. But I sure do know what it’s like to ruin yourself for the rights no person should have to beg for."

The ringleader of the three finally gave up and started to walk away, and Perry almost went after him, but again, somebody she cared about far more stopped her. Victor's hand on her shoulder brought her back to reality, and as a wave of unforgiving nausea swept over her, Perry turned and bent over her knees. Victor urged her over to a spot further away from judgmental eyes and Joe tried to give her his canteen to drink from, but she was too restless to stay still for long or even swallow. Victor went back over to one of the women still on the ground and sat beside her, and Perry was quick to follow. She crouched down beside her friend and gently introduced herself in Dutch as Doc Roe tended to the woman's bloodied scalp. After the woman had dried most of her blinding tears, she seemed to recognize Perry and threw herself into the soldier's arms with a wail. She kept repeating heroine over and over as she sobbed against Perry's shoulder, and they all just sat there, the Dutchwoman and the four soldiers, until the last of the crowd had dispersed.

“That coulda been my mother.”

Victor gave her a puzzled look, but the lump in her throat kept Perry from elaborating, and she stayed silent as she watched Lieutenant Lipton kindly lead the woman away, having offered to walk her home. Perry grabbed Victor's arm and used it as a crutch to bring herself to her wobbly feet, missing how Joe had offered her his on her other side. He dropped his arm, stuffed his brass knuckles in his pocket, and ran his hand through his hair.

"Your mother?" he asked, careful as could be, careful like he knew how Perry felt. Like he knew what it was like to want to punch the whole world. And that's what made her tell him (and Victor and Doc, of course) about Groningen and what leaving did to her family, about her mother and all the bottles in the cupboards, about how nothing could change what she'd done and why she'd thought she'd had to do it, and—most of all—about what little difference there was between the vultures of Sacramento and the wolves of Eindhoven. Joe looked awfully sorry to hear it all, and Perry itched to hug him but knew she might as well give herself up should she make the attempt. Just as she'd crossed the threshold of staring too long, Lieutenant Welsh popped up and dragged her and Victor away to find them lodgings for the night. His attempt was short-lived, however, and Victor ended up drifting off with Donald Hoobler and another trooper Perry didn't know well enough to name while Perry herself turned to Heffron and Guarnere for direction.

"Why don't ya go with Vest?" the sergeant of the pair suggested, pointing the butt of his pistol over her shoulder before nestling it back into its holster. "He said there's a bed or two to spare where he's goin'. Bet he wouldn't mind the comp'ny."

Unfortunately, Perry didn't know who this 'Vest' character was and ended up wandering on her own for a time. She'd just stopped to peer over a low fence into a stranger's fragrant garden when Joe Liebgott surfaced from the dwindling throng and all but dragged her down the street toward a boarding house with all its windows thrown open. As they walked, he informed her that Guarnere, having realized too late that she wouldn't know Vest if he was two feet in front of her, had sent Liebgott to find her. Lieb, in turn, had secured a room at the boarding house on his way and was certain there'd still be room for Perry. He was immediately contradicted by the frazzled landlady guarding the front door, but what she didn't know was that once Joe Liebgott set his mind to something, that something was going to get done. Then Joe Toye came down the stairs for the sole purpose of joining the persuasion and the landlady gave in, but only on the condition that Perry would share a room with one of the pair. To Perry's astonishment, Toye hooked his arm around hers—seemingly without a second thought—and began to lead her back up the stairs.

"He snores like a train engine," he elucidated, shooting her a smirk as Liebgott began to protest, and Perry could do little but laugh and turn her head toward the window in an attempt to hide her pinkening cheeks.

A few hours passed as they dropped their packs and went to find some dinner, then played poker with some of the other fellas in the boarding house until they got sick of losing to stony-faced Toye and hauled themselves off to bed. Perry suggested they do the same and Joe assented, and as the first stars came out, they kicked off their boots, took one last look out the window at the sunset, and readied for bed. Jostling for a spot in the cramped bathroom down the corridor for tooth-brushing and face-washing purposes left them more tired than before, and they rolled into bed almost as soon as they'd gotten back to the room. The mattress creaked a bit but was comfortable enough, and the pillow was one of the nicest they'd maintained since joining the Airborne. The only issue was the singularity of it:

It was the pillow because it was the only one.

Their lighthearted bickering over who would get it devolved into sleepy grabbing and poorly-suppressed snickering that they tried to bite back for the sake of those trying to sleep in the adjoining rooms. Equally persistent, neither would relent, but then Perry stuffed the pillow under Joe's head and plopped hers down on his chest, tossing both arms over his torso to keep him still. She expected him to squirm a bit, but he didn't, just laughed and laughed until she had to threaten to use the pillow to smother him to get him to stop. A peaceful kind of quiet descended upon the room, and as the darkness become total, neither moved an inch, thoroughly comfortable as they lay and daring to assume the other felt the same.

Twenty minutes later, Perry had drifted off into the land of slumber and Joe Toye didn't know what to do with himself.

He knew he'd landed himself in a sort of predicament as soon as they came into the room and saw there was only one bed. It was big enough for the both of them and Perry didn't seem bothered, but what she didn't know was that something had been nagging at Joe ever since he saw her jump into the fray that afternoon, a kind of fire in her eyes that ignited his own. The day turned to night and all of a sudden, they were sharing the bed and he had no idea how to proceed. Now, this was long before he knew who Perry really was—that 'he' was actually a 'she'—but what he did know was that he'd let her stay there, cuddled up to him like a lover, because every time he looked at her she lit a flame inside his chest. And that flame, stubborn as he was, wouldn't go out no matter how hard he willed it to. But here, in the dark, in the night... it was enough for him to pretend. They didn't have to be who they were, they could be someone else, in the dark.

He could pretend that maybe, just maybe, if he was braver than he was, if things were different in so many ways, if this Private Bloom dozing on his chest was a Miss Bloom instead...

"Get some sleep, Lovely Summer," he mumbled against her hair where it tickled his chin, his heart pounding like the dickens. He hadn't expected any sort of acknowledgment, assuming she was fast asleep, so when he felt her nuzzle her lips against his chest in a half-asleep kiss, he felt a thrill and a chill—and it was all too much. Uncertainty flashed into fear, and he froze where he was, one arm draped loosely over Perry while the other hand gripped the sheets, seeking solace. When at last he tried to get up, Perry made a muffled noise of displeasure against his shirt. The vibrations of her voice shot a shiver up his stiff arms, and he hesitated.

"No," he thought he heard her say in a voice that seemed higher than it should have been. "Sleep. Here."

"Right here?"

"Right here."

And then she was asleep, really asleep. He felt the rise and fall of her chest beside him and wondered at the strange way she curved the top half of her torso away from his almost subconsciously. It was as he lay there that he felt his arms relax, and then his hands, his shoulders, and finally, his heart. It became clear even to his sleepy mind that he wouldn't have gotten up after all, even without her protest. He was just too darn comfortable like this, too darn safe, too darn... happy. So Joe laid back down, closed his eyes, and decided to stay happy—at least until the morning twilight gave way to the dawn.

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

Although the first light of day was only just poking through the window, Joe was gone by the time Perry awoke. She sat up, rubbed at her eyes, and felt poorly about herself until the door creaked open and a pair of hands offered two cups of coffee. Joe's gentle smile danced above them, tugging up at the corners when he started to move the cups in a song and dance as Perry tried to take one. She laughed and he relented, handing her a cup, then fumbling in his pocket for one solitary packet of sugar. They split it and pretended it made all the difference in their bitter morning beverages, sitting on the floor and eyeing the world outside the window. Perry kept an eye on her watch and when Joe asked her if she had a hot date, she snorted and told him she didn't want to be late for whatever came next.

"We don't even know what that's gonna be," he said, then, after a beat: "Perry."

"What?"

Joe nodded toward the floor, indicating the bedroom beneath theirs.

"Your foot's tappin' so much you've woken 'em up."

Perry jumped to her feet, flustered, and took a long, hard look at the sunny day while Joe took a long, hard, unnoticed look at her.

"Here's an idea," she said, turning to rifle through her pack and emerging with a block of rations. "C'mon."

Joe didn't get up, just watched her go.

"Where you goin'?"

"It's beautiful out," she said from the doorway. "Don't you wanna eat outside?"

He hesitated, and that was all she needed to know he wouldn't be joining her. Her spirits fell, and her expression must have shown it, for he started to rise, but she waved him back down.

"I'll just go and find Victor or somebody. You- you go back to sleep. Or something."

That was the last time they'd see each other for quite some time. Perry had only just located Victor and Donald Hoobler—dining upon a whole breakfast spread on the upwind side of a haybale—when a runner came past, informing everyone he saw of their proceeding orders. They hopped aboard the tanks of their sister regiment within the hour and started to roll out for Nuenen, receiving a most boisterous farewell from the locals of Eindhoven. At times, Perry was able to glimpse Joe's helmet moving on a tank up ahead and knew it was him from the way his shoulders moved as he talked or listened to a friend. She itched to go see him, maybe make sure they were on good terms, but doubt crept in and held her nerve like a vice. She didn't know who they were anymore, and he didn't know who she was, and all the not-knowing made her dizzy enough that when Lieutenant Brewer crumpled like a sandcastle right in front of her, she didn't even flinch.

The battle didn't last long and ended up a resounding failure on the Americans' part. Things went blurry for Perry after a time and all she could really do was stick to her rifle and her buddies and try not to get shot like Brewer. Her senses only started to clear around the time they made it far enough down the road to safely stop for the night, and panic started to set in as she took stock of who'd kept up with the gloomy crowd and who hadn't. Sergeant Martin spread the word that Sergeant Randleman was missing and—worse—that Victor Rich had vanished with him. Martin was the last to have seen them, which didn't seem to be sitting well with his nerves. With Victor and her squadron leader gone, Perry was already close to her wits' end; the final blow came when an emotionally- and physically-drained Doc Roe informed her that Joe Toye had been sent off the line not ten minutes ago, having been hit badly in the leg during the battle.

Turns out Joe had needed those bandages after all.

"How's your squadron?" Doc Roe asked, and it hurt them both to think it was a question he was asking in Rich's stead. "Everybody accounted for?"

"Everybody 'cept..." Perry looked down, squashing her grief like it was the beetle crawling over her boot. "Well. Might as well say it. Miller's dead."

Roe just shook his head, discontent, and went back to his work. For a moment, Perry envied him, that he had something to occupy his mind with, then felt guilty for those who'd been wounded or killed at Nuenen. Buck Compton went by on a stretcher and tapped her leg, telling her to keep her chin up, and when she told him blank-faced that Randleman and Red were missing, his pained smile fell. She watched him go and kicked at the earth, the voices in her head getting louder and louder. Fortunately, Sergeant Lipton turned up in the right place at the right time. He drew Perry aside in an attempt to assess her clearly-fragile mental state only for her to startle him by letting loose a secret she'd kept for months upon months. Three of the most important people to her had gone MIA or WIA, and now Perry, mocked by a starless sky, let it all spill out. She told Lipton who she was and why and how she'd gotten there, and despite his initial amazement, he got over his shock marvelously quickly. A bit of anger flashed through his expression, then pity, then uncertainty, but by the time he realized her panic, he'd managed to square it all with himself just enough to prevent her from completely losing her shit. Unfortunately, there wasn't a thing he could do to fix the situation other than try and calm her down. Once he'd managed to settle her just enough to think clearly, he sent her to refill her canteen and went off by himself to think things over.

Perry returned to the spot she'd left Lipton and found no trace. At a bit of a loss, she stood and chugged all of the water she'd just retrieved until she felt sick. She sat down until she felt less nauseous, but by that time, the gloaming was turning to twilight and she realized a whole night had passed. In the absence of a sane mind, she hadn't noticed. Still, there wasn't much for an enlisted man to see or do at that encampment other than pace and stew, and so pace and stew, Perry did. Eventually, Sergeant Martin marched over, grabbed her by the arm, and dragged her over to Skip Muck in the hopes that he could:

"-calm down the anxious rabbit whose makin' everybody else anxious—oh, for fuck’s sake, would you stop that shaking-"

Perry managed to force her limbs to go still, but in doing so, sent her heart speeding and thumping all throughout her chest. Though she barely knew him and he, her, Skip frowned with concern. He squinted at her face and blinked for a moment, then turned back to Martin.

"Uh, Johnny, you seen Liebgott anywhere?"

She might have winced to think he'd pawn her off on another so quickly if she hadn't been used to such treatment of replacements, but instead, she just sagged and resumed tapping her foot. Skip's look turned sympathetic and he looked close to apologizing before Martin turned over his shoulder and lit up, drawing Skip's and Perry's attention.

"Bull!" the sergeant exclaimed. "Red!"

Reunions were swift and clamorous. Perry was the first to make it to Victor, jumping right on his back and nearly knocking him over. Victor just laughed and asked if she was alright, and she retorted that if anyone should be asking such a thing, it should be her. A crowd started to gather and Perry hopped down, adjusting her shirt and sleeves from where they'd ridden up. She kept looking right at Victor, then at Randleman, then back to Victor as if this was some kind of illusion conjured up by her sleepless, heartsick mind. Fortunately, they were real flesh and blood and had come back to the company after all. For a second or two as she watched Skip walk Victor up toward the medic's station while Doc Spina came down the hill to greet Randleman, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, Joe Toye would pop up from behind one of the trucks and come over just to ruffle her hair and tell her everybody was mistaken, he hadn't been hit this time around.

Alas, Joe was fated to stay gone—and for several months at that.

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

Read Pt III here.

11 notes · View notes

xximperioxx · 1 year

Text

Forever Is the Sweetest Con

And you asked me to dance

And I said, “Dancing is a dangerous game.”

Wanting to be just like her mother, Rebecca decides to become a nurse but is realizing she wants more to her name. When an old friend of her father offers her an opportunity to show her worth, Rebecca realizes she got a lot more than she bargained for.

Lewis Nixon/Original Female Character

~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings: None

This work is purely fiction and based on the HBO miniseries ‘Band of Brothers’. No disrespect is meant to the real men of Easy Company and those who fought in WWII. Historical inaccuracy is likely.

Read on Ao3

Chapter 2

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

July 1942

Camp Toccoa, Georgia.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Rebecca had been at Toccoa for about three months. Since then, she had become a paratrooper with training from Strayer. Most days were spent planning lectures in a small office at headquarters.

She was in Sink’s office discussing which soldiers were chosen to become medics when Strayer came in asking to speak with Sink outside. Rebecca gave Sink a nod as he walked out of his office. Sitting on the corner of his desk, the woman looks over the file of Eugene Roe. He looks like he could be a decent medic.

A knock interrupted her thoughts. Two lieutenants carefully walked in. The first was a tall, stocky soldier with red hair. The other, lean with tired eyes and a faint smirk painted on his lips.

The ginger cleared his throat, “Excuse me, Miss, is this Colonel Sink’s office?”

Rebecca puts away the file, “Yes, he -um stepped out for a minute.”

The lieutenant nodded and awkward silence quickly filled the room. He decided to introduce himself, “I’m Lieutenant Richard Winters,” he gestures next to him, “and this is Lieutenant Lewis Nixon.”

A gentle smile appears on her face, “Rebecca. It's nice to meet you both.”

“So, you uh the Colonel’s secretary?” Nixon questions with curiosity. Dick gives him a nudge with his elbow.

The smile drops from the woman’s face and an unimpressed look replaces it. “Excuse me?”

“Ah Winters, Nixon,” Sink greets while walking back into his office, “I see you met the Doc herself.”

Rebecca couldn't help but smirk as she saw the look on the lieutenant’s face. Turning to Sink, she gives him a salute. She turns back around to leave, “I'll leave you boys to it.”

Closing the door as she left, she can help but pause. Sink had called her doctor.

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

Wherever Rebecca went, she somehow ran into Winters and Nixon. The simple hellos turned into Dick finding this way to first aid to complain about first lieutenant Sobel. Dick didn't like the word complain when the young woman called him out on it, instead he saw it as talking down upon. Nixon would occasionally join him on the trip to see the doctor. The friendship between the three quickly developed.

Training the medics was certainly an experience. There are a lot of times Rebecca has to remind herself that these men were just civilians. Of course, there were some who didn’t like that she was a woman. Don’t worry, Rebecca reminded them she’s essentially their first lieutenant when she's around. That made them shut up.

The lesson today included how to insert a morphine syrette. A simple task, Rebecca thought but surely, she was wrong. A medic from Able company struggled with inserting the needle too fast, the morphine too fast, and the wrong angle.

It was late when the medic was able to correctly insert the morphine into the dummy. The doctor double checked his work before she gave a firm nod with a relieved smile, “Congratulations soldier, you properly distributed morphine.” A cheer erupted from the fellow medics around them.

After dismissing the boys and cleaning up, Rebecca decided a coffee was much needed. She still had paperwork to fill out.

The walk to the mess hall was quiet. The sounds of the crickets and peepers had a calming effect. Thankfully no one was in the mess hall when she arrived. Preparing herself a cup of coffee, Rebecca took a seat and relaxed.

“You look like shit,” Lewis commented as he walked into the mess hall.

Rebecca rolled her eyes at the remark, “Thanks, Nix. You sure do know how to make a woman feel better.”

He chuckled before taking a seat right next to her. The two sat in comfortable silence. The silence was interrupted when Rebecca let out a yawn.

“Long day?” He questioned.

“Well,” She started, "My day started at first aid where I had a line out the door-”

Nixon raised an eyebrow, “What happened?”

Rebecca lets out a scoff, “Don't worry. There was nothing wrong with them. When I asked them what was wrong, I could tell they made up an excuse to see me.”

He smirks at her, “That’s what I do.”

The woman lets out a laugh while stirring her coffee, “Yeah but you don’t come in just to ogle at me.”

“Just when you're not looking.”

Rebecca whipped around and looked at him incredulously. His lazy smirk could almost make her blush but it didn’t. She was not letting that happen. “Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

Nixon lets out a chuckle. She rolls her eyes at him.

“Anyways, a medic I’m training couldn't correctly insert a morphine syrette and it took forever to get him to do it properly.”

“Wouldn't want him to be my medic,” He leans back against the table.

Rebecca waved her hand, “He’s in Able Company, you're safe.”

She stifled another yawn, hoping Nix didn't notice. She liked talking to him.

“You should go get some sleep, Becca,” he suggests before taking a swig from his flask.

Rebecca looks at him. Becca. No one has ever called her that. It was nice. She quieted her thoughts, “Don’t worry, I will. I just have to finish some paperwork.”

He insisted on walking her back to her barracks. She offered him a cigarette on their way. The two stopped when she got out her lighter. She unfortunately picked up the habit since arriving at Camp Toccoa. Lifting up the flame to give him a light, Nix gently grabs her wrist to steady the flame.

Rebecca studies him through her lashes. She could tell he was lost in his thoughts just by the way his eyes glistened at her. The flame dims, his cigarette long lit yet still holding onto her wrist. “Nixon,” she mutters with a light shove, “Stop looking at me like that.”

The man snaps out of his daze and lets her hand go. He clears his throat and murmurs an apology. The two continue their walk in comfortable silence. Rebecca enjoying the sounds of the night. Men could be heard laughing in their barracks while others were snoring. When they reach her barrack, Rebecca walks up the steps. She turns around, “Have a good night, Nixon.”

He gives her a smile, “You too, Becca.”

#band of brothers #hbo war #lewis nixon #original female character #Lewis Nixon imagine #band of brothers fic #band of brothers imagine #richard winters #george luz #ronald speirs #joe toye #bill guarnere #don malarkey #carwood lipton #harry welsh #ao3 fanfic #Ao3

9 notes · View notes

blood-mocha-latte · 4 months

Text

LITTLE TALKS | SEGMENT I | PART I

George sips at his beer, leans forward, propping his elbows on the wood of their table. They’ve set up shop against the wall, the table so small that George is hardly two feet from Joe, one of his knees slotted between both of Joe’s, just to make them both fit. George wonders what would happen if he leaned forward further, and raises his glass back up to his lips to cover for it.

“How long’ve you been doing tricks?” Joe asks him, voice raised over the chatter all around them. Someone bumps into George’s back, it nearly makes him cough around the beer. Joe’s still watching him, eyes almost black, maybe without blinking. George doesn’t much mind. He likes being watched. He just shrugs.

“What, you’re still on that?” He asks, light, and Joe shrugs, doesn’t say anything else. “And I don’t do tricks. You just fell for an old classic.” George finally puts the beer down, and Joe snorts.

When he looks up, the others' eyes are almost sparkling, and he gestures at his own face. “You’ve got, uh. Beer foam.” George blinks, but doesn’t move to wipe off his pseudo-mustache, just tilts his head.

“I know.” He says, even though he didn’t, and sits up straighter. “I think it helps make me look good.”

He runs his tongue over his top lip, and Joe seems to mimic the action almost subconsciously. “Trust me, Luz,” He says, voice rasping, “you don’t need any help with that.”

((the prequel to the post-war luztoye roadtrip au)) interact with this post in any way, shape, or form to be tagged when it's posted :).

#rie posts #idk what i'm doing. consider this an experiment. for Science #trying something new with fics which is basically. HEY this is coming out come look at it when it does #anyways actual drop date will be around 1/20 so. there ya go #idk what i'm doing. there was a poll and it said this is the one! so i was like. ok.#luztoye #george luz #joe toye #joseph toye #band of brothers

29 notes · View notes

disastrouscanasta · 2 months

Text

Shouldn’t have taken me as long as it did. But I procrastinated it 👍

#luztoye #george luz #joe toye #joseph toye #band of brothers #hbo war #my fic #ao3 link #ao3 #fanfic

5 notes · View notes

trashbag-baby666 · 6 months

Text

George, Web, and the Costume Fiasco of 2023-Webgott and Luztoye.

Summary: here’s my Halloween Finale!!! Enjoy this silly story of a huge costume mix up!

WC: 1,410

C/W: NSFW dancing??

BofB Masterlist!

2:45 PM, October 31st 2023.

Webgott:

"Joe! we have to go get our costumes like now!" Web was standing at Liebs bedside and Lieb pulled the blankets back over his eyes.

"Jus' go I'm so tired." Lieb murmured waving his hand blindly at his boyfriend.

"No! Because you need to try on your size!" Web huffed getting frustrated. Last night Daisy and Lieb had smoked a lot of weed and then walked to 7/11. Where a guy cat called Daisy and Lieb decided that it was a genius idea to fight a guy. While he was too high to remember his own name.

Long story short Lieb had a black eye and he was still tired.

"Gott verdamme dich, Joe." Web said with a sharp frustrated sigh and put his hands on his hips.

Web got his phone out of his pocket and dialed the Spirit Halloween number.

"Toccoa Spirit Halloween," a less then thrilled voice came through the phone.

"Hi I was wondering if you could check if you had a costume please." Web said with his fake customer service voice.

"Yeah?" The guy huffed.

"The shark costume not the inflatable one the onesie style one." Web was crossing his fingers their costumes would still be available.

"We have one left in a size medium."

Web did a small happy dance, "Awesome! I'll be there to get it soon!" He turned and looked at Lieb who was looking back at Web with his one eye still swelled, "Get up. Now we have to find you a costume since they only have one."

2:50 PM October 31st, 2023

Luztoye

"Fuck," Joe grunted him and George were going to be roller blade Barbie and Ken. But now there plan was put on hold.

"What? Oh." George came out of his bathroom and saw Joe sitting on his desk chair. Not only had he ripped his costume he could see where his boyfriend was trying to put on his prosthetic and he was very much in pain.

"Hey, hey it's okay." George came to his side, "If it hurts, it hurts. If it's swelled, it's swelled. Don't worry about it." George checked his watch.

These were some of Joes bad days when he was in and increasingly higher amount of pain.

"Look Spirit Halloween doesn't close till 7 and we have plenty of time to go get us a new costume before the party. Plus! They're probably have mega clearance since it's Halloween!"

Joe smiled a bit, he knew George loved a good sale. He was just like Carwood, loved some couponing and searching for the best deals.

3:25 PM October, 31st

Webgott

Web barely had time to put his Tesla in park as he got out of the car storming towards the door and Lieb in toe behind him.

"Jesus fuck, Web." Lieb grumbled pulling his baseball hat down lower as they walked into the store.

Web didn't even have time to flinch at the clown animatronic jumping at him. Or the scarecrow yelling at him. He charged up to the counter, "Hi where can I find that shake onesie I called about?" Web smiled at the guy who looked like he was one more customer like Web away from quitting.

"We just sold the last one. Sorry man." He shrugged.

Web blinked blankly processing the information.

"Thank you." He put on a fake smile before grabbing Liebs hand and taking him to the corner of the store.

"You! Why couldn't you just pick up our costumes when I told you too!" Web pointed accusingly at the taller boy.

"Hell, how is this my fault? You're the one who wanted to dress up as two fucking sharks you should've came and picked them up." Lieb scoffed.

"Joe! I already had placed the order and you literally just had to come in and get them! You know I've had back to back tests this whole week! I didn't have time!" Web was damn near shaking.

Web broke his eye contact with Lieb as everyone in the store was staring at them.

"Look, there's not much left what's find what we can and get going." Web sighed shaking his head and dragging Lieb over to the couple costumes.

6:30 PM October 31st, 2023

Luztoye

"Wait I thought you guys were dressing up as roller bladder Barbie and Ken?" Daisy looked at her brother confusingly.

"Yeah Joes stump swelled and he couldn't wear his leg, so we just decided to do a different costume." George shrugged, "So yeah I'm the shark that bit off Joes leg."

"Wasn't he in a car aci," Daisy started. She was already a bit drunk and her brain wasn't making sense.

"Yes Daisy...the shark story is just something we tell Babe." George hummed and took a drink of his beer, "Where's Lieb and Web?"

It was weird to see Daisy without Lieb or Billy. Especially Daisy and Lieb at a party. They would sit on the couch sharing a cart or in the bathroom smoking a joint.

"I don't know actually," Daisy shrugged then skipped away back over to Billy who was in the kitchen.

5:45 PM October 31st, 2023

Webgott

Web walked into the Speirs house and he felt absolutely ridiculous.

The only couple costume in their size was a playboy bunny costume and Hugh Hefenor.

But mostly so Lieb could hide his black eye with the captains hat.

"God damn," a very drunk Babe in a 'sexy Chica' costume walked over to Web snapping his fingers.

"Yeah I know I look fucking terrible." Web shook his head. He found himself in a black satin leotard with a bow tie and the signature Playboy Bunny ears.

"Nah uh! Honey!" Babe snapped doing his best Ru Paul voice.

"Well thank you," Web giggled feeling a bit better till he saw George walk into the living room with his shark costume on, "George Luz Speirs!" Web gasped looked at the shorter boy.

"Oh hey Web," George waved.

"You're wearing my costume!" Webs eyebrows were raised so high they might as well just disappear into his hairline. Web had taken two shots of vodka on the way in the car. He was nervous about his costume, he always had body issues. Especially growing up as a ballerina and his mom berating him.

"What do you mean? I just bought this?" George looked at the shark onesie.

"Just bought it!? Were you the person who bought my costume?" Web stumbled a bit.

"Don't worry about him, he got drunk on the way here. It's a long story." Lieb walked over dressed as Hugh Hefner and grabbed Web.

"So was Web going to be Hugh Hefner's first 'Playboy Shark?" George snickered at his own joke.

"No we were going to be two sharks. I don't know some couple costume. But we didn't get our costumes in time and this is all that they had left in our sizes that remotely matched." Lieb shrugged sitting Web on the couch.

"Weren't you supposed to be Barbie and Ken?" Lieb asked as George sat next to Joe that had his leg off and fake blood on his shorts.

"Stump swelled, couldn't wear my leg then accidentally ripped it trying to make it work." Joe explained and George sat next to him snuggling right into his arm.

"And I bit him!" George chomped his teeth towards Joe, "Now you're a manwich." George snickered.

"Interesting, who's Daisy and Billy supposed to be." Lieb sat forward a bit. Web had completely melted into the couch and fell asleep.

"Finnick and Annie from The Hunger Games franchise. I bet you're confused by Babe and." George started.

"George I assure you that I did play Five Nights at Freddie's growing up. What I'm confused by is why a slutty Chica and Freddie Fazbear is bumping and grinding against Monty Alligator." Lieb snickered a bit.

"Man I really don't know," George shook his head and looked at Joe and he just shrugged, “Oh my god Babe what are you doing?” George whipped his head as he saw the red head wrestling one of George and Daisy’s dogs into a cupcake costume.

“Please just take my picture she’s part of my costume.” He picked up the small chihuahua that was growling at him and Babe held the dog posing for his photo.

“God damn I need another.” George shook his head going back into the kitchen.

#halloween fic #babe is dressed as chica #web and lieb fight #modern au #band of brothers #joe liebgott #david webster #george luz #joe toye #luztoye #webgott #babe heffron #eugene roe #baberoe #baberoe x male oc #OC’s of mine mentioned in the story

3 notes · View notes