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bloodstainedsaint · 6 months

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

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

word count: 1650+

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

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

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

Dear Dick,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sincerely, (Y/N)

Dear (Y/N),

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sincerely, Richard Winters

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

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she-wolf09231982 · 3 months

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Soooo this neck muscle I want to get my lips on is the sternocleidomastoid muscle. I know you see what I’m talking about 😉 that inviting slender protrusion leading up to the ear.

I didn’t know this about myself until this man re entered my life, but whenever his neck is exposed like that…I get spun up and my initial reaction is “Kiss it….Lick it…Bite it…”

Deep down I may be a vampire 😜

Anyone else got something like this with their BoB favorite? I’d love to know that I’m not the only feral one on here 😮‍💨😩

#band of brothers #joseph liebgott #joe liebgott #ross mccall #my love #love bites #joe liebgott sends me #neck kisses #joe liebgott rabbit hole #joe liebgott brain rot #why can’t i have him #why #why am i like this #why do i do this to myself #ww2 #101st airborne #easy company

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pookielious · 12 days

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"Wat?"

"—ever since he got shot in Holland"

"Wait wait wait wait. Whater' you sayin? He's nuts?? Because crazy Joe mccloskey was f'in nuts, babe. That's why they call him crazy joe"

"I'm not sayin' he's crazy I'm just saying.."

"What? What are you saying?!"

"Ouhhggh forget it !"

"What?"

"Forget it!"

#i love this dialogue #my fav philly boys #bill guarnere #babe heffron #wild bill #buck compton #edward heffron #easy company #band of brothers #101st airborne

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footprintsinthesxnd · 1 year

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Love and War

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Synopsis: Bob Floyd never expected to fall in love during the war, especially not with a pretty, young nurse during basic training. But love works in funny ways and can their love stand the rest of time, the war and the distance that separates them. Warnings: mentions of graphic themes, war, injury, weapons, sexual images, language, 18+.

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Operation Market Garden, Netherlands, September 1944

Bob never realised what true pain actually was until he had been shot. As a child he’d often played Cowboys and Indians with his brothers, pretending to shoot at each other and fake dying, but that had been so far from the truth. Hot, steering pain shot through his abdomen as the bullet flew straight through him. The pain hadn’t come at first but as soon as his knees hit the floor he’d screamed out in agony. He’d seen soldiers sustaining worse wounds than simply being shot, Jackson had been caught in an explosion in Carentan just three months before and still bore the scars on his face and neck to prove it, yet he’d never once complained or grumbled. Even when they were back in Aldbourne and the local women seemed to avoid him due to his scar he didn’t complain.

Aldbourne seemed so far away now, like some distant memory and all too soon they had been jumping back into enemy territory, jumping low into Holland. Bob vividly remembered cutting a replacement out of his parachute after the boy became tangled in the strings. He jumped with his reserve chute even though it had been low and the boy had been crushed under the weight of all the baggage he was carrying.

Bob didn’t know how it happened, one moment he’d been running to shield the injured replacement, he was inexperienced and missed the sniper who was nestled on the roof. The poor boy could have only been 18 years old, fresh from Fort Benning, with little to no battle experience. Bob recalled helping the boy prepare for the jump just days before.

“You jump ready to fight,” he informed him, tightening the boy's webbing and securing the musette bag. “You won’t need your reserve chute, we’re jumping low and if your first one fails you won’t have time to open the second.” He’d continued nonchalantly not noticing the faces of the fearful replacements. “Now we are jumping into enemy territory, you must be quick and precise. Remember your training. Once you land, cut the ties on your parachute, make sure your gun is loaded and ready and follow your platoon leader.” The boys' faces only looked more and more nervous as the time to jump came but Bob reassured them. “You boys will be fine, like I said remember your training, that’s what it’s there for.”

The sniper had hit him in his neck, just missing the jugular but causing the boy to cry out in agony, withering on the tarmac road while his comrades dived off their seats on the Sherman tanks for the banks on either side. He screamed, rolling around while the sniper fired at him again. Now Bob knew this was a trap, snipers often shot one man, leaving him just about alive to draw out the other soldiers but he couldn’t just watch the bit suffer. Against Bob’s better judgment and Private Jackson’s protest, he lunged forward, scrambling up the bank and scurrying over to the wounded paratrooper. He’d managed to drag the boy to the bank, Jackson reached out and helped him pull the boy to cover when the bullet struck him, causing him to fall forward into the ditch.

Bob’s mind was hazy but he simply remembered the pain. He saw Jackson's face above him, slightly blurry and his shouts would have been deafening if not for Bob’s ears ringing from the explosion around them. The grass earth beneath Bob’s fingers shook as he grabbed ahold of it as Jackson began applying pressure to the wound. He watched as the dark, scarlet began oozing from his abdomen and across his pale flesh. He watched as Jackson began shaking out the white powder sulfa to the wound. He watched as Jackson stabbed a surrette of morphine into his thigh. The earth exploded around him, mud flying through the air like fireworks on the 4th of July. Bob just watched, as if everything was in slow motion if he lay quietly everything would be ok.

“Stay with me, Floyd,” Jackson repeated like a mantra in Bob’s mind.

“Where’s Miller?” Bob mumbled out, not realising he was actually talking until Jackson replied.

“He’s coming, buddy, he’s coming. Just hold on for me, Floyd. You’re gonna be fine.”

“I don’t look fine,” Bob mumbled, watching as he bled into the earth around him. “Am I gonna die?”

“No, you’re not gonna die… I promise,” Jackson’s voice broke as he spoke and Bob knew that he couldn’t keep that kind of promise, no matter how much he wanted to. Bob nodded reluctantly, resting his head against the grassy bank behind him. Pale, white clouds danced above his head on the clear blue background, like an artist's paintbrush was dancing across the canvas of the world. Bob was a mere speck of dirt on this artist's canvas, maybe the artist was trying to remove him with the red paint that flowed from his abdomen.

Doc Miller’s voice echoed near Bob’s ear but he didn’t see him, his eyes glazed over as they started to the heavens above.

“Floyd! Floyd, can you hear me?” Miller’s tone was calm and collected as if he were simply chatting to Bob back in the pub in Aldbourne and not saving his life. Bob remembered groaning as the medic began slapping his face, he remembered Lieutenant Nelson’s voice and he remembered being carried. Images flashed before his eyes as the stretcher he was on bumped around in the back of the truck, flashes of light misted his vision as the pain grew through his body. He could feel everything, and at the same time, nothing at all. Bob thought there and then that he was dying, he was going to die and he’d never see (y/n) again, her beautiful smile, hear her laugh, touch her.

Bob could hear your voice breaking through the darkness, he pushed himself towards it, desperately trying to open his eyes but no light came and your voice faded away. “NO! NO COME BACK!” Bob screamed into the abyss of his mind but no one replied, no one came for him.

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The next thing Bob could recall was a heavyweight against his hand, it squeezed him gently, a soft, familiar voice filing his subconsciousness. It was barely above a whisper and Bob wondered for a moment whether he was imagining it until he felt a warm pair of lips against his forehead. Stirring slowly he forced his eyes to open, squinting at the bright spotlight that seemed to shine on him, groaning under his breath.

“(Y/n)…?” He asked groggily, his eyes trying desperately to focus on the figure beside him.

“Hey Bobby,” she answered, leaning forward and running her fingertips across his forehead, brushing away the stray blond hairs. “How’re you feeling?”

“Sore but all the better for seeing you,” Bob mumbled back, his throat crying out for a drink as he spoke roughly. (Y/n) must have realised because she was soon supporting him to sit up, propping several more pillows behind him before raising a glass of water to his lips. Bob drank gratefully, never taking his eyes off (Y/n) for a second in case she disappeared and this all turned out to be a figment of his imagination. (Y/n) helped him lean back against the pillows, pulling the blankets higher up his body when he began shivering.

“You had me worried, you know, Bob. When I heard what had happened I came as quickly as I could,” she leaned down, pressing a light and gentle kiss to his lips. He felt her start to relax, watching the tension leave her knowing that he was now safe.

“Where are we?” Bob asked, his bright, blue eyes wandering around the room. He knew he was in a hospital, both walls were lined with beds wrapped in crisp white sheets, some filled with soldiers and some lay dormant. Nurses flitted in and out of the room, checking in each patient before hurrying off again.

“You’re in a hospital, my love…” She smiled sweetly at him before adding, “In Holland.”

Bob’s eyes grew wide as he studied her face, trying to tell if she was being serious.

“Why are we in Holland? Why are you in Holland, you’re meant to be in Paris, away from all of this?” He began rambling, trying to push himself further off the bed but cried out as the pain began to spread through his abdomen again.

“Stop Bob, please,” she begged, helping to rest him back against his cot and holding a firm hand to his chest, knowing that if she let go he’d try to launch himself off the bed again.

“I’m stationed here, at the military hospital in Holland. I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d worry. I thought you might have realised when my letters started to arrive with different postage stamps,” she laughed lightly and Bob couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he admitted, squeezing her hand gently. “I missed you but I just wished you’d told me. I didn’t want you in harm's way.”

“Bob, you don’t get to decide whether I’m in harm's way or not,” you looked at him sadly, “I’m a nurse, I need to go where I’m needed.” Bob nodded glumly, reaching out his hands to you. “Come here.”

(Y/n) obeyed, scooting onto the edge of his bed as Bob wrapped his arms tightly around her middle, nestling his head into the crook of her neck. “I missed you so much,” he mumbled into her warm skin. (Y/n) hummed in reply, carding her fingers through his blond locks in response.

Bob’s recovery was slow, he’d pushed himself too soon, reopening his stitches and setting his recovery back. (Y/n) had been fuming, reprimanding him as if he were a child.

“Do you have no care for your health?” She shouted at him, after pulling him into one of the storage rooms away from the other patients.

“I need to get back to my men (y/n), they are my friends and they need me.”

“But I need you, Bob. I need you to get better. I need you to be ok.” Bob could see the tears welling in her eyes and instantly reached out to embrace her, cradling her into his chest as they both sat in silence, afraid that if either of them spoke it would drive the other away.

Bob stayed in the hospital for two weeks recuperating from his wounds. He saw (y/n) every day, watching as she tended to the other soldiers and she would try and spend every evening cradled in Bob’s arms.

“You got yourself a purple heart then,” (y/n) murmured, running her index finger over the small purple medal.

“I guess I did,” Bob hummed, smirking in reply. She poked his chest with her index finger, “my brave, handsome soldier.” A blush warmed his cheeks but he couldn’t drop his gaze, mesmerized by her eyes.

“How did I get so lucky.” He asked, carding his fingers gently through her hair whilst trying not to distrust the bin pinned neatly to the back of her head.

“I think the question is ‘how did I get so lucky?” She smirked in reply. “Although after the stress you’ve put me through, I don’t know if it’s worth it.” She jested and Bob shoved her shoulders lightly, cashing her to fall into a fit of giggles. She’d made him promise that if all the medals he could get, a purple heart was not one of them.

His wound had healed quickly and although he was still a little sore he knew it was time for him to head back to Easy Company.

“Bob, please don’t do this. You need to take more time to heal,” (y/n) had pleaded, tears staining her soft cheeks as Bob watched her as she desperately tried to stop him from packing his bag.

“You know I need to get back to them, Doll. They need me and I have to go.” His large hand came up to rest against her cheek, brushing away the stray tears. “I promise I’ll come back to you, I’ll always come back to you.” He sealed his promise with a kiss, not a deep, sensual kiss but it was soft and loving and took her breath away. “I promise,” Bob whispered once more, before picking up his kit bag and heading for the door. Bob knew that going AWOL was frowned upon but he always knew that any other man in his company would do the same, they were a brotherhood. Before Bob reached the door he stopped, his heart heavy in his chest.

“(Y/n)?” He asked, trying to stop his voice from shaking.

“Yes,” she replied, her eyes shining bright and hopeful and Bob knew that she thought he was going to change his mind and stay.

“I love you,” this time Bob’s voice didn’t shake, he spoke with a certainty that demonstrated how much he truly meant it. “And I promise one day I’m gonna ask you to marry me.” (Y/n) stood frozen for a moment, she knew what her answer would be but the words lodged in her throat.

“I love you too and my answer is yes,” she whispered but Bob heard her, a wide smile growing on his lips as he looked at her with so much love and adoration that she felt as if she would melt beneath his gaze. With one last look, Bob turned and disappeared from view, heading towards the vehicle bay in the hope of a lift back to Easy Company. She ran her fingers over her lips, memorising every detail, how his hands held her face, his lips brushed against hers, how his chest felt when they were pressed together. (Y/n) bit back the tears as she turned back to Bob’s now empty bed, pulling the sheets off the lumpy mattress and bundling them into her arms. She pressed the sheets to her nose, inhaling his scent one last time before walking down the aisles of beds and leaving the ward.

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“FLOYD? IS THAT YOU?” Jackson hollered, throwing his arms in the air in greeting. Bob grinned at the young radioman, waving frantically from his seat on the M4 tank as it trundled along the mud track, its large caterpillar tread churning the ground. As the tank slowed Bob jumped down, waving goodbye to the gunner and hurrying towards Jackson, a shy smile gracing his lips at the sudden attention.

“Yep, it’s me.”

“Well as I live and breathe. I was sure you were a goner, all that blood and screaming I never thought I’d see you again,” Jackson admitted, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke and his brown eyes glistening.

“Ya can’t get rid of me that easily,” Bob replied, pulling his fellow paratrooper into a tight hug which Jackson quickly returned, hanging onto Bob for as long as he could.

“Would ya look what the cat dragged in,” a smooth southern accent came from behind them and Bob turned to see Albert Miller, a wide grin on his face as he rubbed his hands in a grey cloth, trying to scrub the blood from his fingers.

“Miller, it’s good to see you too,” Bob flung his arm around his friend's shoulder. “You’ll never guess who I’ve spent the past two weeks with.” Both men looked at him quizzically, Miller scratching the back of his neck thoughtfully.

“No, who was it?”

“(Y/n), she’s stationed at the field hospital. She’s been nursing me back to health.”

Jackson let out a great whoop of celebration while Miller affectionately patted Bob on the back.

“I’m really happy for ya, Bob. (Y/n) is a good woman, one of the best, just like my Mary.” Bob knew that Albert missed his wife, Mary, a great deal, he rarely spoke of his life back in Mobile, Alabama but whenever he did this strange glazed expression appeared on his face, as if he wasn’t truly there with you anymore and he’d gone home.

“(Y/n) sends her love to you both,” Bob gestured to the two men in front of him. Miller gave him a crust nod in return, while Jackson blew Bob a kiss. “Give this to her when you next see her,” he snorted as Bob smacked him lightly on the back of the head.

The two men were so caught up in their friendly punching that they didn’t notice Captain Nelson approaching.

“Floyd,” he spoke, his tone harsh and authoritative, causing all three men to stand to attention.

“Yes Sir,” Bob saluted the Captain, trying to keep his eyes trained over Nelson’s shoulder. Since when had Captain Nelson become so stoic and harsh? The next thing Bob knew Nelson had broken out into a fit of laughter. “My God, you should see the look on your faces, Boys,” he patted Bob on the back. “It’s good to have you back, Floyd, 2nd platoon has missed you.”

“We sure have,” Jackson chimed in with a cheeky grin.

“Thank you, Sir, it’s good to be back.”

“I’m sure it is. Although I have a feeling you’ll be missing your dear nurse though, won’t you?” Bob froze. How did Captain Nelson know about you? It’s not like he’d been that public with you.

“Don’t look so alarmed 1st Sergeant Floyd, your secret's safe with me. Come and collect your new insignia from Battalion CP.” All three men watched as Nelson retreated before Jackson looked up at Bob.

“Hang on a second, 1st Sergeant?”

Bob shook his head, squinting at the radioman in confusion. “What the hell are you on about?”

“Captain Nelson just called you first Sergeant Floyd.” Jackson retorted.

“Congratulations Bob,” Miller shook Bob’s hand vigorously, while Bob just stared blankly at them in utter shock.

“I think this calls for a celebration. I found a bottle of Vat 69 that I’ve been saving for a special occasion and I think this is classified as one,” Jackson threw an arm around each man’s shoulder and directed them toward the temporary barracks, laughing jovially all the way.

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#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #ww2 #ww2 au #bob floyd ww2 #robert floyd x reader #101st airborne #101st airborne division #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #love and war

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latibvles · 8 months

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in light of all I have done this Friday evening while dogsitting:

#poet’s think thoughts #hi merc hi dove hi sho #listen one thing abt me is I love an OFC #it’s not enough to read about them I must also develop a parasocial relationship to them #like that’s my girlfriend my wife my best friend #she’s everything and he (the 101st) is just Ken!

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muzdiir · 1 month

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theres apparently a tour guide company that specializes in anthropology-related tours.....................................yall.....................................................

#there's a 3wk tour throughout europe to follow the 101st airborne in ww2 #which is like the biggest Nerd Shit & im sure my dad would love it lol #BUT THERE'S ALSO A 2WK MUSEUM/HISTORY TOUR OF SCANDINAVIA #pls.........i'm weak & wish i had money to travel.......

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microwaving-tesilid-argente · 2 months

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my fixation has gone from giving tesilid the horrors to giving hestio the horrors. he's now the newborn chaos of the 101st round and ephael and hestio jr are absolutely horrified by the insanity in his eyes + how nonchalant tesilid is about it all. the evil red-eyed hestio is pacing around the room thinking aloud about his evil plans to destroy the world, and tesilid is giving him oogly eyes. what has the world come to.

#mimin trying to write #hestio gets to go through it in TWO ways in this fic thats so fantastic #on the one hand you have chaos!hestio who is absolutely traumatised and insane #on the other you have younger hestio who 1. is scared shitless 2. can no longer recognise the love of his life and #3. has to watch said love of his life oogle his older self (who is. as we said earlier. insane and homicidal.)#hehe new stressball #tosses hestio into the blender as well. in you go!#the biggest problem in this fic (non existent plot aside) is that idk how to address the two hestios #reed named himself after the memory of a red-eyed hestio appearing before him in one of the later rounds whr he was sick of life #and the hestio asked 'are you reed' and when tesilid said 'who' that hestio just sighed and vanished #(left that timeline to keep trying to find the 101st)#like i think hestio sr and hestio jr are extremely funny names but thats the thing theyre too unserious #hestioreed

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historyherstory · 9 months

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You obviously put a lot of research in to your fic - it definitely shows - and you come across as pretty well read on the ww2 era. What are some of your favorite books dealing with the time period? I just finished reading "Traitor King" by Andrew Lownie, about Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson's shenanigans post-abdication, and I'm still pretty floored about what the ramifications would've been if that flagrant nazi sympathizer had stayed on the British throne.

Thank you very much for this lovely comment! I feel (and I suspect the same is true for many people!) that I could live 3 lifetimes and still not have enough time to read all of the books I'd like to read, and learn about all the things I know I want to know more about (and all the things I haven't discovered yet that future me will want to learn of!) 😅

Before I answer, a bit of an offshoot: I really struggle with how homogenous the storytellers are of WWII history. It's only really been in the last ten years or so that we see some serious proliferation of whose stories get told (and who is telling the stories). Clearly (*gestures at blog, at fanfic that is consuming my brain*) I adore those people and those histories so this isn't a slight on them - but I have always struggled with how little we hear in nonfiction about women, people of color, and other minorities. (And to be fair: this is not just a WWII history problem, this is a "the field of history has been dominated by white men for a really long time and that has created a hegemony that we're still struggling with".)

So! Disclaimer (? rant??? something??) aside:

Our Mothers' War by Emily Yellin is one that I really enjoy. I read it a few years ago and ended up buying a copy because I kept wanting to come back to it. Some of the author's commentary as she was researching the book really played into the creation of HHS.

It used to be a bit difficult to find (a big actor is named in a project based off the book so I think it's gotten more popular) but The War Magician (David Fisher) was really fascinating to me!

Fatal Crossroads deals with the Malmedy Massacre (Danny Parker) which I had never learned much about in school and I honestly tend to recommend it to anyone who is interested in WWII - it's easy to link to what people know (battle of the bulge) but involves a part of it that generally doesn't get a whole lot of attention.

Sisters in the Resistance has some first-hand recountings of women in the French Resistance and I think it's a good foil for people who may not underestimate just how much the French populace fought back (and how many women were involved, and exactly how significant their contributions were).

I have not read Traitor King - would you recommend? That said, I'm reasonably familiar with some of the attitudes espoused and 😬 can you imagine?? It's such a juxtaposition to what we recall as the royal family being during war (for example, future queen E's service with the ATS). I wonder how much more will come out in the next decade or two about Edward. I feel like oftentimes, it can take that long (or longer, tbh) for people to start sharing the (now, family heirlooms) artifacts like letters, conversations, that happened but were kept quiet/secret for decorum's sake for so many years.

#conversations #anons #book talk #books to read #note to self traitor king #BOOKS? BOOKS TO READ?#I LOVE BOOKS TO READ always recommend me books to read #please #i love them #i will at some point dig out all my 101st airborne books and take a picture to share #it is marginally embarrassing but also highly instructive #if you ever wanted to learn about me as a person #there you go that will tell you everything lol

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stromer · 1 year

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man. now i have to watch the canucks 🫥😹

#i say with so much endearment #i love them i do! but i also hate them with a burning passion and think they are awful!#y'all cannot do this to me on the day of nico's 100th and 101st. i won't allow it. my happiness should matter #canucks lb

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alexandrium · 1 year

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btw if ur ever in the hood and see SS grafittied on the walls it stands for south side not... anything else generally

grafitti is so interesting its like cave paintings

#i love taking pics of graffiti and sending it to my brother for him to translate bc now i almost never need it #typically grafitti will be like street nunber if where gang is from so like if tjeyre from a 101st street and dont have a name theyll be #101st street gang #established gangs with names will do three letter abbrevation of name #MALOS = MLS JOKERS = JKS or ifbitd short like watts they'll just write watts #and then thr guys gang nickname or street name and its usuallt some generic shit or even stupid shit #but typically if u live somewhere you'll see the same stupid names #typical names like FLACO or CHINO or LOKO are suoer common #sometimes itll be threats to rival gangs too like you see watts killers written on randoms stuff #florencia ppl sometimes just write F13 for florencia 13 or write the entire word in fancy writing #their letters sometimes might be funny looking as a 'style' so like an a can look like a g #theyll even use aztec writing to write stuff so youll see 3 dots and a line and that means 13 but written in aztec lettering #depends tho #also turf wars #you could live on 52nd street and have beef with 51st and theyll just hate you for growing up on a diff block #its fucking stupid #also for like full disclosure im not a gang member neither is any of my friends or family we just grew up around this shit #i had the wrong language keyboard turned on for almost the whole thing oops

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she-wolf09231982 · 3 months

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Chapter 5- Just You

Summary: An unexpected resistance to a German attack causes Liebgott an injury. The experience brings emotions to head between you and Liebgott.

A/N: Mature audience, Joe LiebgottxFem!Medic, post D-Day, She/Her Pronouns, Y/F/N, Y/L/N, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Womanizing Comments, Confrontation, Military Terminology, 1940’s slang, Inappropriate Nicknames, Band of Brothers References, Mentions of Weaponry, Descriptive Wounds/Injuries, Blood/Gore, Smoking, Angst, Banter, Pining, Consensual Physical Contact/PDA, FOREVER FLUFF 💚

Chapter takes place 1x5 Crossroads

*I have loved you for several hours now, and every second more. I thought an hour ago that I loved you more than any woman has ever loved a man, but a half hour after that I knew that what I felt before was nothing compared to what I felt then. There is no room in my body for anything but you. * -The Princess Bride, William Goldman

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

~~~~~~~

October 1944

Easy Company set up in an abandoned barn as a headquarters and aid station in Schoonderlogt, Holland. Most of Easy Company had been inside awaiting the return of the reconnaissance patrol that left at sunset to see if any Germans were near the village. Liebgott leading the mission had been gone for several hours.

Eugene insisted you get some sleep, but you only sat in the bunk, your mind too busy to even close your eyes. Talbert with his newfound companion, Trigger (a German Shepard ironically), was a nice distraction while Joe was gone. As you were petting the dog, the barn door burst open alarming everyone and bringing everyone to their feet.

“Penetration!” one of the soldiers called out carrying another soldier injured.

“It’s Alley!” Talbert yelled.

“Alley’s hurt!” Liebgott shouted.

“Boyle, get Doc.” Winters instructed then looked at Liebgott, “Where?”

“Crossroads.” Liebgott replied. You notice he took a dressing and pressed it against his neck.

“Liebgott-” you called to him, but another soldier interrupted you.

“Well, if it wasn’t for your loud mouth-” he started to accuse Joe.

You tried again but louder, “Lieb-”

“-Hey, you know what? Back off!” Liebgott shot back as Roe pushed through the gaggle.

“Get the boots off, elevate...Lieb use the sulfur...” Doc directed.

“JOE!” You barked over the commotion.

“Goddam it, WHAT?” He snarled back at you with a heavy look of annoyance.

“Get over here and let me look at your neck.” you directed sternly.

“It’s just a scratch.” He dismissed.

You huff audibly, losing your patience and giving him a side glance.

“Joe, let her take a look. We got this over here.” Doc insisted.

Liebgott sighed reluctantly rolling his eyes and made his way to you.

He stood tall in front you, refusing to look you in the eyes as you gently directed his head by the chin to his left to expose the injured site where he still held the dressing. You know he was trying to hide how bad it really was, so you decided to kill him with kindness to get him to do what you needed to do to help him.

Your voice sweet and subtle, “Joe...”

He hummed in response.

“Move your hand. Please?”

He quickly looked down at you, no smile or any real sign of emotion, just searching your eyes for something unknown to you. You feel your eyes widen as this unexpected attention from Joe unnerved you. It’s not a look that you experienced from him before. He almost looked like a ravenous animal.

You stood your ground, staring back at him expectantly waiting for him to remove his hand from his neck.

His hand slowly dropped without breaking eye contact.

You make your hands busy with the messy dressing on his neck and see an angry laceration, but not deep enough to make it life threating. You were less worried, but it still needed attention.

“You’re lucky.” You stated.

“Am I?” he replied curtly.

You ignored his cold response.

“It wasn’t deep enough to affect the artery, so you won’t bleed out, but I’m still going to dress it right so you don’t get an infection.” you explained.

“Great.” his tone unenthusiastic and sarcastic. Again, you chose to remain silent. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction by taking his bait to argue.

“Ok, Joe, you’re good.” you tell him, running your thumb affectionately along his jawline.

He felt goosebumps rise on his skin from your soft touch and shot you a look of confusion. His eyebrows furrowed and his mouth slightly open, you thought he was going to say something. He thought he was going to say something too, but he stood there gaping at you, breathing heavy again searching your face for something unknown to either of you. You meet his perplexed look with one of your own and squint your eyes at him wondering what it was you did wrong to earn such a response from him.

His jaw tightened as he closed his mouth and softened his eyes. No smile, no sign of affection, he nods to you then turned on his heel to collect his gear when Winters announced they were heading to the crossroads to re-engage with the Germans there to gain control of that position.

You were utterly dumbfounded by how Joe treated you. You know he can get moody and explosive when his adrenaline races like that. He had a deep-rooted hatred for the Germans and was probably pissed he got nicked by one of them in the field, and now he was out for revenge. His anger clouded his judgement, and you suffered the blunt end of his attitude even though you had nothing to do with it.

And it had nothing to do with you. He felt terrible for not at least saying ‘thank you’ before he left. He turned his back on you after you cared for his wound so gently and attentively, and he hated himself for it after walking out of that barn. He had hurtling thoughts of doubt, regret...sentiment. He couldn’t turn back now, though. He was on his way to deal with the Krauts that had the audacity to attack him and his team that day.

~~~~~~~

Easy Company took victory at the crossroads the following morning. The Germans fled leaving dozens of their comrades killed or seriously wounded. Eleven of them are captured. The Americans on their side count one dead and 22 wounded.

Winters approaches an angry Liebgott taking potshots at the still-living Germans crawling over the bodies of their dead comrades, trying to escape the field.

“Joe?”

Liebgott continued to pick off Germans like a turkey shoot. “-Joe, knock it off!” Winters ordered

“Goddam it, what?” Liebgott barked back.

Winters noticed his neck bandages were saturated with his own blood.

“You’re bleeding.” Winters identified.

“Ah, it's nothin', Cap.” Liebgott replied bluntly.

“Take these prisoners to CP and get cleaned up.” Winters instructed.

Liebgott looked a little too eager, “Yes, sir. Come on, Kraut boys.”

Believing that a furious Liebgott can't be trusted, Winters orders him to drop all his ammo and removes all but one round from Joe's rifle telling him that killing one prisoner will prompt the others to attack and possibly kill him and escape.

“I want all prisoners alive.” Winters reminded.

Joe paused before replying, “Yes sir,” resentfully.

~~~~~~~

Liebgott burst through the barn door, obviously still fuming he had to babysit German prisoners and not get any extra hits in. It was more than they deserved even if they did surrender.

You were finishing up some wound care on another soldier when Joe had come in. Even in his intimidating state, you were exhilarated to see him alive. You rush over to him and notice his neck bandages saturated in red. Your joy quickly turned to panic as you went to touch his arm.

He turned around viscously shrugging your hand off him and met your stare with horror after he realized he had almost hurt you. His chest heaving, and eyes wild, it took him a few seconds to regain his bearings.

You were actually frightened at first but didn’t back away too much from him since he still needed medical attention.

“Joe?” you ask cautiously.

He swallowed hard then softened his stance, “I was told to get this fixed up.” He replied as he gestured to his neck.

You nod, “Ok, Lieb, over here.”

You lead him over to a more secluded space in another part of the barn that you used to triage patients. After his little ‘floor show’ you decided he needed a safe space to decompress. He slumped down on the cot in the room with a huff and stared at his boots.

You went to the shelves with the supplies you needed, grabbing clean dressings, gauze, and peroxide. You sat yourself next to Joe and prepared everything to tend to his neck. He winced when you pulled the partially blood encrusted wrapping.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. He only side eyed you as a response.

You soaked the gauze with the antiseptic, then pressed it to his wound. He hissed from the sting.

“Sorry, Joe. I have to make sure it’s clean.” you explained.

“Mmhm.” He hummed, “Just do it.” he added in a low voice.

You continued working on him quietly. The air was heavy in the room. You hoped he would open up to you. It was clear he had been bottling something up. He won’t even offer a glance to acknowledge you.

You unravel the new dressing placing the padded part to his wound, then lean in closer to loop the ends around his neck like a scarf to secure it in place. As you repeat this action, you were required to keep nearing his face with yours. Still refusing to look at you, he remained looking at his boots and you admired how long his lashes were as he looked down. You finish the wrap tucking the end in, and you couldn’t stop yourself,

“Joe, look at me.” you requested.

He sighs irritably, rolling his eyes and meets your concerned gaze.

You study his face, bringing your hand to his forehead to gently sweep away his hair. He looked you up and down skeptically, unsure what was happening. A new concoction of emotions simmered inside him when he felt your fingers combing his hair back out of his face.

Angst...elation...hunger...want...need...He had no idea what was happening with him. And it seemed to intensify while he was sitting there with you. Even in the midst of combat he doesn’t feel this level of fight or flight response. His breath hastened as his heart rate accelerated. He straightened up and faced you, bringing his hand to yours, softly grabs your wrist pulling it away from his hair not taking his eyes away from your face.

Your breath hitched in your chest as your heart pounded so hard you were sure he could hear it as well. Your eyes widened seeing his eyes dark and blown out from something deep beneath the surface unknown. The small space between you is intense and unnerving.

Joe’s POV

*“Look at her... Even after how I’ve treated her, she’s still being so good to me. I don’t deserve this...I don’t deserve her. Every time she touches me it's like electrical currents shocking my entire body. How does she do it? What I wouldn’t do for her to just grab my face and just lay one on me and never pull away. Jesus Christ get it together, Liebgott, she probably hates you now. But if I leave now, anything could happen and neither of us would know...anything. I won’t leave her until I know.”*

“Joe?” you wave your free hand he wasn’t holding in front of his face. He shook his head snapping out of his thoughts.

“You’re all cleaned up now. You can go back to the guys or take a few minutes and stay to regroup.” you suggest.

You stand to leave but Joe doesn’t release your hand. You furrow your brows confused.

“You need something else?” you ask.

Joe stood gripping your shoulders to face you square with him. His mouth curled into a slight grin. With intent behind his eyes and urgency in his touch, he finally speaks directly to you.

“Just you.” he purrs.

Your jaw slacked from shock. You look up at him through your lashes, your iris's doe-like and glistening. Words as well as breath failed to leave your mouth. You felt dizzy and faint, your entire sternum burning like you had just taken a swig of Vat 69. You feel Joe steady you as you slightly sway backward. He kneaded your arms affectionately making you a melting mess in his strong slender hands.

“-me?” you choked as you placed your hand over where your heart was ready to explode from.

He nodded deliberately and slowly, “-only you.”

Your skin and insides tingled causing you to tremble. You take a deep breath trying to regain your composure.

“Where is this coming from, Joe?” you finally ask.

He shrugged, “It’s always been there. Buried deep down and just grew bigger every day. I just can’t keep it down anymore, you know?” he explained.

You beam at him, partially lost in your own thoughts calculating the situation you found yourself in with him at that moment. You avert your eyes downward releasing a soft chuckle. You shake your head,

“Joe, I-”

“-Don’t tell me you don’t feel the same, Y/N.” he dared.

You meet his eager stare, “Of course I do, Joe,” you respond in a desperate breathy voice, “I have spent this past year worrying myself sick about you, and at first, I couldn’t figure out why! I have been fighting it every single day and I am exhausted from it. I lose sleep when you’re on patrol without me, and the few hours I can get, I have night terrors that you return to me maimed and bloody, scaring me wide awake! I swear I have more gray hair from this.”

You went off on this tangent, pacing back and forth in the small room not realizing how much you just confessed, but Joe once again remained silent just mesmerized by you absorbing every word you say.

“So, you do feel the same.” he confirmed standing taller with a gratifying smirk.

You turn to him, your eyes beginning to gloss over with tears, “Joe, *I have loved you for several hours now, and every second more. I thought an hour ago that I loved you more than any woman has ever loved a man, but a half hour after that I knew that what I felt before was nothing compared to what I felt then. It goes on and on, Joe. There is no room in my body for anything but you. *”

Each of you standing opposite the other, you're practically panting from the overwhelming flow of emotions and lack of breath you forgot to take. You await the next venture to unfold.

Without a word, Joe swiftly closed the gap between you, and before you could even gasp, he pulled you in by the back of your head locking his lips onto yours.

~~~~~~~

#band of brothers #hbo war #ww2 #joseph liebgott #joe liebgott #ross mccall #my love #joe liebgott x female reader #joe liebgott x reader #101st airborne #easy company #joe liebgott rabbit hole #joe liebgott brain rot #dick winters #eugene roe #doc roe #the princess bride #princess bride

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pookielious · 7 days

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"We're all scared — you hid in that ditch because you think there's still hope. but, blithe — the only hope you gave is to accept youre already dead. And the sooner you accept that.. the sooner you'll be able to function how a solider should function. Without mercy. Without compassion. Without remorse. All war depends on it."

#his little smile after that #i love that quote guys #ronald speirs #lt.speirs #band of brothers #Albert blithe #101st airborne #ep 3

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footprintsinthesxnd · 11 months

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Love and War

Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter

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

Austria May to August 1945

Hitler was dead. The Germans had surrendered. The war was over in Europe.

Bob’s blue eyes gazed lazily over the tranquil landscape, the birds were singing, a light breeze brushing gently through the trees, the aquamarine lake was still. Bob couldn’t believe that in all the destruction they had witnessed a beautiful scene like this lay between all of it. After all this bloodshed somehow Easy Company had ended up in this paradise. The ruckus behind Bob pulled him reluctantly from his thoughts as Albert and several of the other paratroopers came running down the path, dressed in their PT kits and barefoot.

“Come on, Bob,” Albert called, racing down to the stone jetty. The paratroopers all pulled their white T-shirts over their heads before diving into the calm water below. A chorus of hollers and whoops followed as they began to slash around in the shallows, throwing water at each other.

A joyful smile spread across Bob’s lips, his eyes shining slightly with unshed tears. This is how their lives should be, young and joyful, living full and happy lives. They all deserved this after the years of their youth that had been stolen by this god forsaken war.

“Bob, come on!” George, one of the other paratroopers hollered, his boyish grin infectious. He reminded Bob a lot of Jackson, his youthful enthusiasm making them all feel younger than their years.

“Alright, i'm coming down,” Bob called, beginning to undo his uniform jacket as he made his way down the slope and towards the jetty. He pulled his clothes off quickly, leaving himself in just his underwear before diving into the cool water below. It was colder than he expected, taking a sharp intake of air as he resurfaced, coming face to face with the smiling men around him. Bob laughed loudly, throwing water at Albert, shouting gleefully. They spent the rest of the afternoon swimming and splashing around in the waters edge. By the time Bob and Albert were sitting back on the jetty their skin was pale and wrinkled from their time in the water.

“What will you do after this?” Albert asked, eyeing Bob curiously, squinting in the late afternoon sun.

“Probably get some food, I guess,” Bob sighed, toying with the wedding band hanging from his dog tags.

Albert groaned, letting out a light laugh, “no I mean after the war, when you go home.”

“I don’t know. We don’t even know if we are going home yet. Captain Nelson said that it’s highly likely we’ll be redeployed to the Pacific.” Bob sighed, he’d love more than anything to go home, back to the States with his wife. It had been five months since he’d last seen (y/n), since he’d last held her in his arms, kissed her. Bob dreamed of the day they would be reunited, finally able to be together as man and wife should be.

“But after that, well I’m gonna go home, back to Louisiana with (y/n). We’re gonna have a big house with lots of room for all our little Floyd’s.” Bob smiled at the image, thinking of (y/n) sitting on the swinging bench on the porch, a baby in her arms while she watched their other children playing in the garden, Bob by her side.

“Me too,” Albert replied, his eyes overcast and tearful. “You know I haven’t even seen my baby girl grow up. She’s gonna be four years old before I get home to her, I missed so much.” He let out a strangled sob, burying his head in his hands. Bob was a little stunned, in all that they had been through Albert had rarely cried, never showing his true emotions. Gripping hold of the man beside him, Bob pulled him into a desperate hug, ignoring the feeling of their damp skin against each other. He pressed a small kiss to the medic hair, cradling him, rocking him slowly. Before the war Bob could never imagine having this kind of connection with another man, he’d had male friends and they’d hugged each other before but with Albert it was different. He loved him. Not in the way he loved (y/n) but he loved him and he would die for him. Albert’s tears eventually slowed, his sobs becoming quiet mumbles into Bob’s chest. “It’s ok Albert, I’m gonna get you home to them. I promised you back at Toccoa I would. I’m not about to break that promise.”

Albert looked up at him, tear stained cheeks, his bottom lip wobbling slightly.

“Thank you, Bob. Thank you for everything.”

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

Bob’s knuckles wrapped on the large oak door, waiting for a reply to enter. The voice from the other side was gruff but Bob knew that was just the way Nelson spoke to everyone.

“You wanted to see me, Sir,” Bob stepped into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He removed his cap, tucking it into the belt of his uniform before saluting the Captain.

“Floyd, take a seat.” He motioned for Bob to take a seat on the otherside of the desk, perching on the edge of the chair in anticipation. Nelson took a log sip of his coffee, savouring the taste and almost killing Bob with the suspense. “Do you know why I called you here?”

“No Sir,” Bob replied hurriedly.

“I called you here because the army has a proposition for you, a battlefield commission to make you a Lieutenant if you’d like to pursue a career in the army after the war.” Nelson spoke firmly but his eyes shone with the unspoken adoration that he had for all his men. “You have proven yourself to be an exceptional soldier and an even more exceptional man. It has been an honour to serve beside you.”

“Sir, the honour has been mine…” Bob began but Captain Nelson raised his hand, cutting off his speech.

“Now don’t be so modest now, Sergeant. Now I understand that you have a wife, correct.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And I’m sure you are desperate to return to her.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“But this is a great opportunity and one that I would not wish for you to pass over lightly but I do understand your situation. I haven’t seen my wife and daughters for God knows how long. I have missed much of their childhood and I would not wish that on any man.”

Bob nodded in agreement, he already knew his answer. “Truthfully Sir, I am honoured but I have fought long and hard for my country, I have bled and lost friends for my country and I would really like to go home to my wife.”

Captain Nelson nodded, “I suspected as much and honestly I cannot blame you. I wish you and your wife a long and happy life full of peace. Happy VJ Day Sergeant Floyd, you're going home.”

“Sir, is it… really?” Bob stared back in disbelief.

“Yes Bob, the war is over.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Taglist: @bradshawseresinbabe @wkndwlff @a-reader-and-a-writer @callsign-phoenix @imjess-themess @averyhotchner @mayhem24-7forever @callsignmaverick5 @ssprayberrythings @smoothdogsgirl @xoxabs88xox @luckyladycreator2 @abaker74 @elenavampire21 @classyunknownlover @okiegirl24 @flashyourgreeneyesatme @airedale17 @shadowolf993 @flyboyjake @topguncultleader @callmemana @t-nd-rfoot @desert-fern @cherrycola27 @green-socks @jstarr86 @starkleila @alexxavicry @roostette @floralfloyd @soulmates8 @depressed-friend-blog @mayhemmanaged @shanimallina87 @shadowsintheknight @bcon24 @cassiemitchell @genius2050

#love and war #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd #top gun maverick #ww2 fic #ww2 au #101st airborne #101stairbornedivision

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m4nj1r0s · 4 months

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Slightly!Yandere Shinichiro general headcannons

Note: I went off-track a little with cute moments 😭

- SIMP. You’ve probably heard it 100 times, so let me be the 101st, he is a SIMP.

- Has your picture as his lock screen and Home Screen, has a polaroid of you two in the back of his CLEAR phone case, another polaroid in his wallet and a framed picture of the two of you in his shop.

- Looks at you with love-hearts in his eyes whenever you’re talking. It could be about the economical state of the world and he’d still listen intently just because you’re the one saying it.

- Everyone says he doesn’t have any skills with girls, which is true, but he is genuine and that’s already better than the majority of men.

- Will hug and kiss you in front of his friends because he literally does not care what they think. They’ll all probably groan and tell him it’s gross.

- Has accidentally blown a puff of smoke in your face from a cigarette and when you started to cough he panicked. Got you a cute teddy bear to say sorry though.

- Has your skincare and makeup routine memorized, and products. This man knows your shade and the brand you use for foundation and concealer. Always stocks it up for you when he sees you’re running low. Loves to watch you apply skincare and makeup and will get flustered if you ask him to put it on for you.

- Is always so gentle with you. He hasn’t hurt you, and won’t ever. Not even accidentally. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him!

- Benkei and Takeomi give him bad girl advice. Wakasa knows better but he’s never around when the other two give Shinichiro advice… When he tries it with you, he gets genuinely shocked when you tell him you don’t like whatever he tried.

- One time, he asked you if you were on your period because you were mad at him, and when you asked him why the hell he would ask that, he replied “Takeomi told me that you’d think I was attentive and knowledgeable about women’s hormones if I asked you!!”

- They’re probably the reason he doesn’t get girls tbh

- But he has you, he doesn’t need anyone else.

- He does get jealous super easily. He doesn’t even know how he pulled you in the first place, but he WON’T lose you.

- Has and will use his connections from the Black Dragons to beat anyone who tries to get with you. He’s not going to get his hands dirty (probably because he doesn’t know how to) if he has people to do it for him.

- Celebrates every little milestone in your relationship. Expects you to remember as well. Like, what do you mean you forgot this is the anniversary of the first time he fed you?!

- Dreams of a nice, domestic life with you in the future whenever he sees you with Emma and Mikey. He wants 4 kids and a nice house by his grandpa’s dojo.

- Mikey and Emma LOVE you. You’re their big sister now! Especially Emma. It’s hard for her in an all male household, so you’re her rock when it comes to things her brothers and grandpa don’t understand.

- Emma loves to do girl things with you, like face-masks, doing nails and gossiping about boys you guys like. Although it’s only really Emma who talks about boys she likes, since she’ll get grossed out if you talk about Shinichiro in a romantic manner. That’s her stupid, goofy older brother after all..

- Mikey is constantly asking you if Shinichiro is paying you to pretend to be his girlfriend because you’re wayyyyy out of his league! Shinichiro is a bland 4 and you’re a 10!!

- Mikey and Emma definitely crash your guys’ dates sometimes. Especially if you guys are going on a picnic or to the mall.

- Grandpa Sano likes you as well, you’re keeping Shinichiro from getting into trouble and being a goof. Although, most of that is just how he is.

- Mikey definitely introduces you to Draken as his big sister. And Draken probably sees you as his big sister too, you guys probably do have cute moments.

- One time, you saw Draken sat on a bench on his own and you took him to the convenience store and got him candy to cheer him up and talk about why he was looking down. Mikey joined you guys half-way through with a bag of dorayaki (no, he did not share).

- All in all, you guys are a cute ass couple and the kids all look up to you two.

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dailyreverie · 7 months

Text

Under cotton and calicoes

A/N: Y'all should know me by now. I see Santiago Garcia and I immediately think of the softest, most domestic scenarios. This one was requested by the lovely @campingwiththecharmings, I really hope you like it!! Title comes from The Hozier song "Would That I".

@flufftober - Day 16 Singing one another to sleep

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x reader

Word count: 917

CW: As we established before, domestic Santi is a warning.

Flufftober masterlist

You had been tosing the sheets for what felt like a thousand times, and on the 101st fight against the sheets, the clock showed only 40 minutes had gone by since you last checked the time. You sat up, feeling defeated and exposed to the cold night air on your skin. Your head dropped into your hands in a futile attempt to prevent your eyes from burning with exhaustion.

It was then that you felt Santiago's gentle hand caressing its way up your hip to your lower back. It should not have surprised you, and neither should the soft glow of the lamp on his bedside table as it turned on. “What’s wrong?” The sleepiness in his voice stirred your heart with a touch of guilt. Santiago didn't always got to sleep soundly, and here you were, disrupting his peaceful night.

ou whispered, knowing that your words were as effective as speaking to a wall. Santiago sat up beside you and planted a tender kiss on your shoulder, making you yearn to close your eyes and fall asleep in his arms. "I can't sleep," you confessed, your voice tinged with exhaustion, and Santi chuckled in sympathy.

“I figured that out.” His lips traveled to your jaw, his arms enveloping you in a warm embrace. You found comfort in the warmth of his skin beneath your hands. “Maybe I can help?”

“Unless you are planning on giving me a sleeping pill I’m not sure anything could help.” You say in a lousy effort at humor at 2:40 a.m.

Santi laughs again, pulling you down to bed next to him. It’s easy to fit against his body, with your head in the crook of his neck and your hands over his chest, almost soothing enough to put you right to sleep as his fingers trail up and down your back. To finish it all, he started humming a song, a melody you are familiar with but can’t quite place it, your brain nothing but fog after being awake for so long.

Finally, it clicked as he reached the chorus of the song. In your groggy state, you asked into the darkness, "Are you seriously singing Guns N' Roses to help me sleep?"

Santi doesn’t answer, instead, he changes the humming to singing the lyrics with an audible smile in his voice. “She’s got eyes of the bluest skies, as if they thought of rain, I’d hate to look into those- HEY!” your hand slapping his chest interrupts him.

“How’s that song supposed to help me sleep?” You asked in between a fit of laughter.

“Well, if you’d let me finish you would be asleep by now.”

“Not with freaking Guns n’ Roses! What’s next, Metallica?”

"Okay, fine. I have a better one. Come back here." His arm extended over the pillows, and you cuddled back against his side with a playful warning glance. After a few seconds, he starts singing: “When you try your best but you don’t succeed.”

“Santiago! That’s just mean!” You push him again, laughing out loud without a care of the late hour.

“That’s the calmest song I know.” He defends catching your arm to not let you go far. “I’m sorry I don’t know any of your boring songs.”

You gasped in feigned indignation, a playful glint in your eyes. "Don't you dare disrespect Hozier like that."

“Okay, okay, fine. What if I learned one?” He was already standing up, rushing to the living room to get the guitar he never really uses but still keeps around.

“Right now? You are going to learn how to play a song at 3 am?” You rested against the headboard on your side, looking at him opening up his laptop to search the chords of a song.

“I’m already up, it’s not like I have anything better to do.” Guilt gnawed at you at his statement. He had been snoring no more than twenty minutes ago, sound asleep, as you should be too.

"You should sleep, Santi. I'll just go to the living room and scroll through TikTok until I fall asleep." Santiago caught your wrist as you attempted to move, preventing you from going.

"No way, no one gets left behind in battle," he declared, ever the army man, evoking a smile of tired appreciation. “Now, let’s get this started.”

You watched from your comfortable spot against the headboard, sunken in pillows and cushions as he scanned the chords displayed on the screen, dancing his fingers along the frets and strumming softly as he went through the first few lines of the song time and time again. His soft voice, mixed with the gentle melody, began to work its magic. Your eyelids grew heavy as you continued to hear Santiago's voice like a distant lullaby.

“...I fretted fire but that was long ago.” Santi finished singing the first strophe with a triumphant smile, setting his fingers back to the first chord. “Honey, I think I got it! Check it-” He turned to you, seeking your approval, but instead found you curled against the pillows, breathing softly, finally asleep. “I guess I’ll show you in the morning.” Santi gently lowered the guitar and turned off the light, casting the room into darkness again as he wrapped himself around you.

"Thank you," you mumbled, pressing a sleepy kiss to his collarbone as you settled in.

You were the reason he could sleep now, who was he not to help you whenever you needed to rest, too.

✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂

Thanks for reading! Pleasae reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

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