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blurredcolour · 3 months

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Born To Be Yours

[One-shot | Sequel to We'll Meet Again]

Eugene Roe x Nurse!Female Reader

Despite the end of the war in Europe, violence still finds its way to the men of Easy company. Thankfully, Eugene knows just where to find you to get them help.

Warnings: Language, Weapons, Canon Typical Violence, Smoking, Treatment of Wounds, Medical Procedures, Hospital Settings, Questionably Written Cajun Accent, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [Kissing, Necking, Dry Humping] - 18+ ONLY

Author’s Note: Slight warning - the events of this fic are centered around the shooting of Sergeant Charles E Grant. The title of this fic is based off the song 'Yours' by Vera Lynn. For your reference, the Cajun pronunciation of cher, Eugene's term of endearment for the reader, is 'sha.' Just to help you really imagine it in your head. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 3887

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This kind of thing wasn’t supposed to be happening. Not here in Austria after the surrender of the German army. Not today, the anniversary of D-Day. And yet here Eugene sat, balanced over a stretcher bearing a motionless Grant, holding an IV of blood above his head as Speirs sped down the road toward Saalfelden where the 47th Field Hospital was set up on the edge of town. Talbert rode in the front seat, frequently glancing back at them over his shoulder.

It was a miracle Grant was still breathing after receiving the headwound, continued to breathe through the frantic bandaging and loading onto Speirs’ jeep.

“Where’s the nearest surgeon?” The Captain had barked and Gene had answered easily, known it immediately, because the nearest surgeon was with you.

After parting ways in Titz, following that very eventful Easter Sunday, your hospital had stayed precisely where it was intended to be – twenty-five kilometers behind the line as they advanced across Germany. You had surprised Eugene by sending your next letter not by post, but in the pocket of an ambulance driver who had been all too happy to receive a pack of smokes from you for his trouble. Your ingenuity had opened his eyes, and he’d sent his own reply back two days later, postage paid with chocolate from his rations.

Being able to write one another without the censors having a say, to share every detail of your daily lives without fear of the letter going missing – as long as you each chose a trustworthy deliveryman of course – was a relief after all the delays in communication the pair of you had previously endured. Eugene was admittedly disheartened when he learned that your station in Austria would be in Saalfelden with the majority of the 101st Airborne while Easy and the rest of 2nd Battalion found themselves a further seventeen kilometers down the road in Zell Am See.

There remained a remarkable number of things for him to do, and the lack of ambulance traffic, while a blessing, severely impeded your correspondence once more. In short, Eugene was feeling awfully guilty about the fact that he had not managed to visit you since the war in Europe had ended. As the jeep pulled up outside the requisitioned gymnasium that had been turned into the 47th Field Hospital, he was not certain if he hoped you were there or not.

He jumped off the back of the vehicle as Speirs and Talbert grabbed each end of the stretcher and the three of them rushed toward the building. Eugene hurried a few steps ahead to pull the door open, wincing a little as Speirs shouldered it open fully, sending into the wall with a ‘bang.’ There was a scurry of footsteps from down a hallway to the right before you stepped into view, clad in your white and brown striped hospital dress, a brown cardigan over top with the sleeves pushed up to your elbows. Concern etched your features.

“Follow me.” You said quickly, rushing to pull open the next door into the gymnasium itself. “On the table right there please, sir.” You gestured to a makeshift exam table built of filing cabinets and a cot.

“Chief Nurse?” A young woman poked her head out from behind a privacy screen and Eugene nearly tripped over his own feet.

Last he’d heard you were Assistant Chief Nurse, promoted after your natural leadership of the group of nurses during your nine hours of capture. You’d gone and gotten yourself promoted again. He fought the urge to grin at you proudly as they carefully set Grant down as instructed.

“Shirley, go fetch Dr. Brock from his office immediately.”

“We need a surgeon.” Speirs rasped and Eugene watched the girl halt her progress across the room and look back to you questioningly.

“Dr. Randall then, quickly.” You amended, shifting to begin triage on the patient by checking his vitals as Speirs took Grant’s hand in his tightly.

Shirley fled the room, returning in less than a minute with a dark-haired man wearing a white coat in tow – surely Dr. Randall. A cigarette hung for his lips as he looked to Eugene for the hand off.

“Shot in the head with a pistol, maybe twenty minutes ago? Bandaged and given blood by IV.”

He saw Shirley hand you a chart out of the corner of his eye and you quickly noted these things along with the vitals you’d been taking when the surgeon had walked in. Dr. Randall leaned down to lift the bandages, inspecting Grant’s wound.

“Jesus.” He muttered.

“What?” Speirs asked, looking to him quickly.

“He’s not gonna make it.” Dr. Randall said, taking a slow drag on his cigarette.

“Ya can’t operate on him?” Eugene asked incredulously. This man was a surgeon, this was his job.

“Not me. You’d need a brain surgeon. And even if you had one, I don’t think there’s any hope.” Dr. Randall rubbed at his eyes, obviously just as worn out from the endless number of casualties he’d born witness to, before walking off.

Eugene’s eyes slid to meet yours where you remained next to the spot recently vacated by Dr. Randall; felt his throat clench painfully at the look of deep sympathy you were sending him.

Speirs took a breath and turned to Talbert, breaking the stunned silence that had fallen over the group. “You find the shooter, I want him alive.” He pointed at him for emphasis before turning back to Eugene. “Come on help me.”

“What’re you doing?” Talbert asked, grabbing the end of the stretcher.

“We’re gonna go find a brain surgeon!” Speirs declared before they were off and running back towards the door.

“There’s a German hospital further into town, follow this road for five blocks then hang a left.” You spoke quickly, hurrying to hold open the doors to ease their progress back to the jeep.

“Thank ya, Ma’am.” Eugene nodded quickly, ducking slightly as it had begun to lightly rain while they were inside.

“Take care.” Your voice shook a little and Eugene looked back to you once he’d resumed his perch on the back of the jeep, watching you wrap your cardigan tighter around yourself as you stood in the rain, staring at him intently until the vehicle jerked into motion as Speirs took off in the direction you had instructed.

The hospital was easy enough to find, thanks to your directions, and Talbert secured another jeep there to carry out Speirs’ orders to find the shooter. The brain surgeon was not currently on duty, but Speirs was undeterred and demanded his home address, from which he fetched him out of bed to operate immediately.

“It will take several hours.” The German surgeon had warned them when Speirs had asked where the waiting room was.

“We’ll wait.” He had replied flatly, and Eugene had followed after him as a nurse led them into an empty room filled with worn chairs and a few side tables with outdated German periodicals.

Eugene watched Speirs sink into one of the chairs while he found himself unable to sit down, wandering the perimeter of the room quietly, mind turning over all manner of things, but always coming back to how reluctant you had looked to see him go. The guilt within him had multiplied astronomically – he had been a fool to not rush to see you the instant he could, and now your first interaction since Easter was purely professional and surely terrifying. Precisely why he had been so very reluctant to admit his feelings to you in the first place.

“Doc, if you’re not going to sit down, go talk to that pretty Chief Nurse, would you?” He muttered, pulling the garrison cap from his hair.

Eugene’s head whipped up to look at his commanding officer in shock. Shock at the fact that Speirs had had the wherewithal to notice the looks you had been exchanging over Grant’s prone form. Shock that he was allowing him the liberty to visit you. Pure shock.

“Otherwise, it’s going to be a very long couple of hours.” There was a dangerous edge to the man’s voice that made Eugene swallow nervously and nod sharply.

“Yes sir, I’ll be back in a few hou’s then, sir.” He moved to slip out of the waiting room.

“Be careful out there, Doc.” Came Speirs’ parting command and Eugene nodded once more before heading out into the street, thankful that the blackout was no longer in effect and he had the assistance of streetlights to retrace his steps back to the Field Hospital.

He made a much quieter entrance this time, finding the nurse, Shirley, at the desk near the door in the gym.

“Oh, you’re the medic from earlier – how is your man?” She asked in a hushed voice as she stood.

“In surgery with a German brain surgeon now…I was wonderin’ if I migh’ speak ta you’ Chief Nurse?” He tilted his head, and she nodded quickly leading him down the hall to an unassuming office door.

“She’s still here, working late again.” She laughed softly and knocked.

“Thank ya, Ma’am.” He nodded as she nodded in return before heading back into the gym as your door swung inward.

“Gene…” You breathed in surprise, peering into the hallway as if to confirm he was truly alone.

“Cher…” He murmured in response, tremor in his own voice this time, and your fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulling him into the moderately sized office.

Your arms pulled him into a tight embrace as you nudged the door shut with your foot. He buried his face into your hair, fingers curling into the knit of your cardigan against your back.

“I’m right here, Gene.” You sighed soothingly, arms holding him so tightly, so warmly, Eugene was convinced you might actually be able to fuse his broken pieces back together. To make him feel whole again.

“Merci, cher.” He managed to find his voice after a moment, pulling back slightly only to press his lips to yours tightly in a physical expression of his gratitude.

Eugene felt the tremble that rolled through your body in response, his hands gripping you tighter as your fingers wended their way into his hair making him shudder in return. There was something about your touch tonight that felt like he was playing with fire, your entire presence loaded with explosive charge that could set him off at any moment. He pulled his lips back quickly before he did something wildly inappropriate in your office and panted against your mouth.

“M’sorry I haven’ come ta visit ya.”

Your response was a breathless laugh that made him bite the inside of his cheek.

“I’ve barely left this office. I’m beginning to think this promotion was a curse disguised as a blessing.” You smirked and stole one more kiss from his lips before straightening to look over his face warmly.

“It’s late, and I know ya don’ work nigh’s no mo’e…” He tried to keep the admonishing tone in his voice light, but he was admittedly upset you were working after midnight, something that even he was aware was unusual for a Chief Nurse.

“You know too much, Gene.” Your fingers smoothed his hair gently, restoring order to the strands you had put into disarray, a fond smile stretching his lips as he truly adored hearing you call him ‘Gene.’

His heart had nearly stopped when it had appeared in your letters but to hear it leave your lips was heaven itself.

“Let me walk ya home, tha man who did tha’ is still out the’e.”

He watched your eyes widen before you frowned deeply, shaking your head in dismay. “Did you find the hospital?”

“German brain surgeon’s operatin’ now…”

You took a slow breath before nodding. “I usually have an MP escort me, are you sure you don’t have to get back?”

He shook his head. “Grant’ll be in surgery a few hou’s longah. Cap’n Speirs won’ leave ‘till it’s ovah. Told me ta ‘go talk to that pretty Chief Nurse’ if I wouldn’t sit still.” Gene smirked ruefully and you blinked rapidly before biting your lip.

“Perhaps we have not been nearly as subtle as we thought, Gene…”

He laughed softly under his breath as he watched you turn to collect your things, sliding a small utility bag over your shoulder before turning out the desk light. The desk itself was still covered in stacks of files and he couldn’t help but frown as it seemed that your late nights had barely made a dent in the work your new position had foisted upon you.

“Wait here.” You said once you’d locked your office door and walked a little further down the hall to knock on another door.

He could barely make out another man’s voice, it didn’t sound like Dr. Randall, so presumably Dr. Brock, before you swung by the desk in the gymnasium to wish Shirley a good night. One last stop at the MP office to the left of the entrance where you informed your usual escort you had someone to walk you home before the pair of you were able to step out into the damp night. Thankfully, the rain had stopped falling but the puddles on the ground were plentiful as Eugene offered his arm. He could not help his fond smile as you took it without hesitation, hugging his elbow close as you walked side-by-side.

“I’m quite close to the hospital actually.” You gestured down the road and he nodded, turning that way.

“Tha’s how ya knew…”

Your soft laugh made his stomach quiver slightly though he did not miss the yawn you tried to smother.

“Ya been workin’ late a lot, cher?” He prompted softly, vigilant to your surroundings but so far, the streets were quiet.

“Mm.” You nodded slowly before sighing. “Seems the Chief Nurse before me was not such a fan of paperwork. Maude was a fantastic leader, we’re lucky to have her as the Assistant Director of Austria base, but if I had known what was awaiting me in that office…well I’d probably have asked to help her more when I was her assistant.”

He felt you tug on his arm and looked down to you quickly to see you pointing across the street to a modest apartment building.

“We’re quartered here.”

Eugene nodded and led you across the street as you fished for the keys in your bag. He couldn’t help but notice that you were in fact only a few blocks from the German hospital where Grant was still undergoing surgery. He said another silent prayer to guide the hands of the surgeon to success as you led him up to the building entrance.

A pair of sharp cries cut through the night, making the both of you freeze briefly.

“Hey!”

“Stop right there!”

The voices were still a block or so away, but belonged to men that Eugene knew a well as his own family.

“Inside cher, now.” He said quickly, pulling you toward the building.

“Second floor.” You uttered quickly and he pushed you up the stairs front of him, hands on your hips as he could hear the voices of Talbert and Malarkey growing closer, accompanied by footsteps splashing through puddles and the rumble of a jeep engine close behind.

You stopped at an apartment door and Eugene noted your struggle to line the key with the deadbolt, gently but firmly taking it from you to unlock the door and push you inside. He was quick to close and lock the door behind him, wanting you nowhere near the drunken madman who had already killed at least two people tonight. He heard you take a breath as you turned back toward him and he gently covered your mouth with his palm, shushing you softly as he listened for further noises from the street below.

They sounded as if they were right outside, their voices rising up through the stairwell as his wide eyes bored directly into yours.

“Yeah, that’s him!”

“Get in the jeep you son of a bitch.”

The sound of the engine faded off into the night and Eugene waited a full minute before lowering his hand from your mouth, the only sound remaining being the pounding of his heart in his ears. He heard you suck in a breath, the only warning he was afforded before your lips collided with his. He stumbled slightly, startled a moment, before the adrenaline in his veins was transformed into white hot desire. His hands clutched at your lower back, pulling you tightly against him as he blindly stumbled toward the doorway he had glimpsed upon entering your apartment.

He felt your body impact with something behind you and pulled back from your lips quickly to see he had backed you into the kitchen table. He felt you rise up onto your toes, seemingly intent on sitting on the tabletop and his hands quickly seized your hips, aiding you in your efforts by hoisting you the last bit of distance. He could not help the smirk that graced his features as you gasped at his strength; hard-won through years of training and carrying wounded from the battlefield. His mouth quickly returned to yours, shuddering as your tongue met his eagerly, your fingers once more burrowing into his hair.

Eugene’s lungs began to ache from a lack of oxygen and he reluctantly pulled back from your lips only to begin trailing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your throat. Your shaky exhale filled his ears as your fingers began to tug at the buttons of his OD jacket, sending his own in search of the same on your cardigan. As he pushed the fabric out of the way, he slid his hands along your sides, sucking at the hollow of your throat, exhaling hotly against your skin as you parted your legs for him.

“Cher…” He rasped against your skin, gulping at the whimper that fell from your lips as he stepped closer, nestling between your thighs.

Your body felt so hot against him, even through his ODs and wool trousers, he was helpless not to press as tightly to you as possible, not even leaving a hairsbreadth of space. Your fingers curled into the front of his wool shirt, hips bucking against his slightly as you whimpered again.

“Gene!” Your gasped and he kissed you fiercely as his lower abdomen grew heavy with arousal, blood rushing to his already hardening length as he rutted against you obligingly.

The moan that rattled from your throat into his mouth had his head swimming, his baser instincts immediately taking over, demanding he do anything and everything to draw that sound from you again and again. His hands shifted to grip your thighs, pulling your body even tighter to his as he continued to move against you, delighting in your repeated cries of pleasure which he devoured hungrily. He barely noticed your persistence against the buttons of his uniform shirt until he felt your hands sliding around his torso with only the thin barrier of his undershirt separating your skin, a groan falling from his lips as he tore them from yours.

“Merde.” He hissed, screwing his eyes shut against the salaciously delicious friction between your bodies.

“Mm! I know that one…” You giggled breathily against his neck before your lips were on his skin, making his hips rock sharply against yours.

“Feel so good, cher.” He groaned again, hands shifting beneath the hem of your dress, beneath the hem of your slip, to find the bare skin of your thighs. Quite possibly the softest thing he’d ever touched.

“Yes, Gene.” You whined against his kiss-dampened skin. “Don’t stop.”

He grunted in agreement, fingers tracing higher to grip your hips, increasing the friction yet again as he rutted his fully hard cock against your underwear. The moan that fell from your lips contained an almost anguished tone and he had to grit his teeth against the desire to climax at just the sound of it. Your fingers were digging into his back through the cotton of his undershirt, hips echoing every motion of his as his fingers delved past the edge of your underwear to curl into the soft flesh of your buttocks.

“Oh god Gene I’m…” You panted, head rolling back, and he nodded vigorously, eyes latching onto your face, desperate to watch you fall apart in his arms.

Eugene had long been convinced that you could do everything with grace, and you once again proved his assumption correct as your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks, your mouth falling open to emit a soft wail of pure ecstasy. Burying his face against your neck, he cursed harshly as his hips bucked sharply, all sense of rhythm and control abandoning him as his orgasm immediately overtook him. Sliding one hand out from beneath your skirt to brace against the table lest he collapse onto you, he smiled sheepishly as you grinned up at him, your lower lip caught beneath your teeth.

“Sorry, Gene…” You murmured, running your hands along his back soothingly, your chests brushing against one another as you both struggled to catch your breath.

He shook his head quickly and then tensed. “Do ya….are ya the only one billeted in he’e?” He glanced back toward the hallway, suddenly aware of how much noise the pair of you had made.

Your bright peal of laughter caught his attention, and he turned back to you quickly.

“You ask me that now, Gene?!” You teased, gripping the back his neck to pull him down for a lazy kiss as he huffed a laugh against your lips in reply. “No, just me. Chief Nurse perk.”

He relaxed with a nod, straightening slowly as his legs finally felt like solid muscle and bone once more.

“The washroom is just down the hall if you wa–”

“Be my wife.” The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He had intended to make more of a spectacle of it. Hell, he had intended to have a ring to put on your finger. But the way you were looking up at him now with glossy eyes still hazy with pleasure, crinkled at the corners as you smiled his favorite smile to date – he was helpless to hold them back.

Eugene held his breath as he watched your eyes widen, your mouth drop open, as his unexpected statement hung in the air.

“Are you…proposing to me Eugene Roe?” You exhaled and he gulped roughly.

“I understand if ya don’ wanna marry me, I still have ta go ta tha Pacific an’…”

“How could I say no, Gene, when I was born to be yours.” You eyed him softly but there was something about your words, and the way your lips were twitching with mirth, that tugged at the back of his brain.

“Cher are ya quotin’ Vera Lynn again?” He huffed and grimaced playfully at your answering laugh, yet felt his heart begin to beat double time as your hands cupped his cheeks and your expression grew serious.

“Eugene Roe, I would love to be your wife.” You nodded firmly and sealed your acceptance with a firm kiss that made his heart soar.

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Band of Brothers Masterlist

Tag list: @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos, @bcon24, @phyllisthefirst, @footprintsinthesxnd, @she-wolf09231982

#eugene roe x reader #eugene roe imagine #eugene roe imagines #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #hbo war fanfic #hbo war fic #eugene roe #band of brothers

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bellewintersroe · 3 months

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Another idea I would love to see you write (and it doesn't have to be NSFW if it makes you uncomfortable) is Malarkey, Babe, Chuck, Shifty, Winters (and anyone else you want to write) reactions to seeing all the various scars you received during the war for the first time. The scars can be wherever on the body you want to put them and the injuries that caused them can be different for each guy if you want; I will leave that to your creativity and discretion. I would just find it interesting to see how you think they'd react bc, while injuries during the war became probably a daily occurrence for the men that they've grown accustomed to, you're technically not a man and how could you have gotten hurt?

ugh I absolutely love this request it’s so creative, thank you sm!! I hope it’s what you were picturing, if not feel free to request another :) i’m comfortable writing NSFW but for this request I haven’t gone too crazy, but there is some mentions of potential smut? I can also understand how the topic of scars should be a TW- but no mentions of any self inflicted scars. Easy Boys reaction to seeing your scars:

Dick Winters:

I think he’d probably notice the small, circular scar on the back of your lower hip during seggsy time.

he wouldn’t point it out, seeing as that seemed rude and a bit off putting mid activity- especially seeing as it was one of the first times the two of you sleep together.

it’s afterwards that you’re cuddling when his hand travels down, “how did you get this?”

“oh, that scar?” You’d begin to laugh, leaving him a little confused. “Accidental cigarette burn from a guy I was treating in Normandy.”

Dick is a little confused, you seem so amused so he’s following along with a smile but it’s the most confusing thing ever.

what actually happened is pretty lighthearted, you were treating a wounded guy in the infirmary in Normandy, and well, his eyes were bandaged up and accidentally mistook you for the ash tray?

a pretty funny story, it burnt at the time, but you don’t mind the small scar, in fact it’s even amusing to you. Dick doesn’t notice it often, but when he remembers the story you told him he’d smile every single time he’d see it again.

Babe Heffron:

In Austria you’re wearing your summer uniform/ clothes, things are more relaxed, and so when your top falls down your collarbone the slightest bit, you don’t think anything of it.

“Wha- hey! How’d you get that?!” That was until a certain Babe Heffron chimed up, sounding overwhelmingly concerned, eyes focused on your upper chest.

“What?” At first you’d cover it up, unconsciously before even realising what he’d seen.

he’d hurry over, taking a peak to sigh with relief when he realised it was an older scar.

“Babe.” You’d grumble, pulling your top further up out of embarrassment.

“Oh, hey- no, don’t be upset, I was just worried thas all. It’s not everyday I see a lady with a scar, y’know.” His hand would smooth down your arm, worried he’d offended you, but he’s so sweet, how could you ever be upset at Babe?

“It’s from Bastogne, right?” Unlike the other men (apart from Gene) Babe would probably recognise where it was from.

“The bombing at the church, yeah.”

“I like it, looks cool.” He’d be so honest and genuine, at first I think you’d be a little shy, but Babe finds it so unique, and well- it makes you you.

the major downfall however is that you obviously got hurt, resulting in this scar. He can’t bare the idea of you hurt, it sends a chill through to his bone.

Chuck Grant:

Chuck is no stranger to scars especially after the war, so when he notices you’ve got a couple littered around your leg he doesn’t point them out due to knowing how sensitive that topic can be.

theyre white and faded now, only small, but I feel like Chuck would probably recognise they’re from Bastogne- like he’s seen the wounds the splintered trees cause, he figured it would be something like that.

in reality they were a present from Haguenau. An exploded building left your leg semi trapped, luckily not broke, but it hurt like a bitch and left you with the constant reminder of the pain.

You’d tell him one day after a shower, when you caught him looking at them. “I know they’re ugly.” You’d wince, conscious.

“Ugly? No, c’mere, babe.” He’d pull you into his lap, hand on your thigh as he kisses you so tenderly.

“Nothin’ about you could ever be ugly, doll.” Ugh he’d be sooo sweet and kind, reassuring you in the best way possible whilst accidentally seducing you.

Shifty Powers:

Too cute omg, he wouldn’t even really notice too much, I mean everybody has scars. You’d lay and night and he’d caress your skin, not caring if there was a scar or two littered around your shoulder.

“How’d ya’ get this?” He’d ask softly when the two of you were both falling asleep.

“Nothin’ exciting, I was playing around in the water when we were in Austria and caught my shoulder on the pier gettin’ out the water. I wish it was a better story.”

Shifty would find it so amusing because only you would wish you had a better story to tell about a scar. The rest on your body are from your childhood, Shifty would love hearing the stories that come along with each scar.

Eugene Roe:

Unlike some of the men I think Gene would’ve actually been there when you got injured.

you’re a woman, part of the medic team, a field nurse really which is attached to easy company, so you’re close to the men, especially Gene, throughout the war.

Gene would still remember vividly the day you got hit, how he failed to protect you, cover you. A sniper came out of nowhere, catching you in the shoulder. Gene can only imagine the bullet was meant for him and not you.

He’s the one that patched you up to the best of his abilities, it’s one thing treating a man, but to be treating a girl? Especially one he liked- well his hands were shaking and he was reassuring you non stop.

the scar left was only small, luckily there was no complications and you got lucky and could get back to work real quick.

Every time Eugene notices the scar it reminds him of what happened to you. At first he wouldn’t talk about it. Then, slowly you get it out of him and he’s so soft with you.

“I just don’t know what I woulda’ done.” He’d sigh, burrowing his face in your neck/ chest pressing kisses to your skin.

“Well you don’t have to think that, cos I’m still here with you now, Gene.”

Don Malarkey:

Don would actually notice the fresh scar on leg during Haguenau when you were rolling your socks up, he gets a peak at the flesh on your calf.

“Woah, that looks nasty, how’d you get that?” He comes and sits behind you, waiting for you to turn around.

“Fuckin’ tripped and fell, Malark. Out of everything that coulda happened to me I got this from falling over.”

Malark is more concerned about your wellbeing but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t break a smile.

“That’s just your luck.” He’d smile, rubbing your leg gently to check if it hurt. “You’re ok now though? So you don’t need carrying around everywhere?”

“I wouldn’t object to that…”

No but seriously, Don is a massive sweetheart, he probably would carry you around Austria just for the fun of it, he still blames it on your ‘cut leg’ that he needs to do that.

in reality he’s just flirting with you and knows it’s super easy for you to kiss him whilst he’s holding you like that.

Lewis Nixon:

“What’d you do?” He’d ask as soon as he saw it, running his hand back against your hair, revealing a kinda small scar placed near your hairline.

it’s early in the morning, the two of you are lounging in bed with a cup of tea or coffee, preparing to have a lazy day.

“Oh, it’s from running Currahee, I face-palmed the floor.”

“Ouch, what did Sobel say?”

“thank god he wasn’t there to see it. I got a matching one on my knee too, from the same fall.” You’d pull out your bare leg from the covers and he’d purposefully slide his hand up your thigh, then over the scar on your knee.

“Nice. Battle scars.” He smirked, teasing and pulling your leg over his to give him a cuddle.

#band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers headcanons #dick winters x reader #babe heffron x reader #chuck grant x reader #shifty powers x reader #eugene roe x reader #gene roe x reader #lewis nixon x reader #don malarkey x reader

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mads-nixon · 6 months

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Hey Mads,

I saw your requests are open. Could i please request a Dating Eugene Roe headcanon? Thank you 💕

Dating Eugene Roe Headcannons

Eugene Roe x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: My first ever BoB fic was about Gene, so he holds a special place in my heart. Thanks for requesting! I loved writing these!! this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

So you and Gene meet in Aldbourne when Easy first gets moved there in September of 43' (you meet in october).

You're sitting in a coffee shop reading in the corner, and he thinks you're easily the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Being a shy guy, Gene doesn't say anything to you the first time he sees you. He just subtly glances at you from his spot across the shop.

Turns out, he isn't as subtle as he thinks and you totally notice the staring but don't mind it because you think he's very handsome.

You come into the shop every saturday morning, and every Saturday morning, he's there as well. After a few weeks of sneaking glances, you decided enough was enough.

You walk over and introduce yourself to him, and BOY does he go red when you say that you've noticed him.

Despite the awkwardness of the beggining of the conversation, things fall into a steady rhythm, and you find yourself enjoying his company.

Gene's very soft-spoken and respectful (the BEST listener in the whole company if you ask me)

You get to know each other a little bit, and when you have to leave, you write down your address on a table napkin with a grin, telling him you're free the next day at 6.

The next day, he shows up to your house at 5:55 with a bouquet of roses, wearing his dress uniform. He offers you his arm, and the two of you are off to Swindon for the night.

It ended with a sweet kiss under the stars at your porch (there was no light on because of the black-out being in effect)

from there, it was history, and you soon fell for the cajun medic, and he fell just as hard for you.

Whenever he gets weekend passes, the two of you go for day trips to Swindon or London, strolling down the streets softly talking.

In London, you take him to Crystal Palace Park, where you lay out a soft blanket and have a cozy picnic. Your head lays on his lap, and he gently runs his hands through your hair as he talks about his family back home.

You LOVE hearing the different stories of his grandmother and her healing abilities. It only makes sense that Gene would become a medic to help people, following in her footsteps.

As his training continued and the concern of Sobel leading the company grew, Gene began to bottle up his anxieties and distance himself from you slightly.

I feel like Gene is the type of guy who wouldn't want to tell you his problems because he doesn't want to add to your plate, so he suffers in silence.

You confront him about it and he sighs before telling you everything about Sobel and how incompetent he is. (you hate him with a burning passion...possibly more than Eugene does, but it's close.)

Sunday dinner with your family becomes a weekly thing as time drags on. Your dad was hesitant to bring an American into your house, but he likes Gene more than he ever would have thought.

I'd like to think that Eugene buys you small trinkets that reminds him of you (idk where this came from but it's in my mind now)

OKAY...JEALOUS GENE IS HOT, MAN

we all know he can get fired up (after moose get's shot, he rips Dick and Harry a new one), but what gets him really fired up is when he's jealous

Some nights when you're out at a pub, men will make passes at you despite him sitting right there...boy it grinds his gears.

I have a feeling he would just sit there silent because if he opens his mouth, he knows he wouldn't be able to control himself (imagine his *angry* look after Sobel screws up the training mission in curahee) .

You notice and reach out for his hand over the table, trying to calm him down. "I'm going to get us some drinks," you squeeze his hand before getting up.

Gene's eyes follow you as you waltz across the room, and he takes a deep breath.

His gaze falls to the table for a moment, and when he turns back to you, he sees red. There's a British soldier at the bar who's all up in your personal space and is getting closer every second. Eugene can see the discomfort all over your face.

He shoots up from the table and quickly makes his way over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you behind him as he faces the guy.

"Do we have a problem here?" He asks, looking down at the man with fire in his gaze.

The Brit cowers instantly, taking his drink off the table before walking away. "No, sir."

Even through the man was super annoying, seeing Gene like that is incredibly hot, and you turn him around and kiss him.

He calms down pretty quickly after that.

Whenever they have to leave for Upottery, you share a sweet goodbye filled with tears (a lot from you and a few from Gene), and promises of writing.

You keep in contact through letter for the whole duration of the war, and the second he can leave after it's over, he comes straight to Aldbourne and asks you to marry him.

Tag List: @liptonsbabe @footprintsinthesxnd @bucky32557038ww2 @flowers-and-fichte @merriell-allesandro-shelton

message or comment if you want to be added to the tag list!

#band of brothers #hbo war #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagines #eugene roe #eugene roe x reader #eugene roe imagines #eugene roe headcannons #band of brothers headcannons #hbo war headcannons #gene roe #eugene doc roe

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joenotexotic99 · 7 months

Note

Hello Doll! New fan here! You're so precious! 🥰 we NEED pt 2 of BoB "Sleeping with them for the first time", my request: Speirs, Toye, Eugene, Webster, Buck. AND pls wrote more Lovetropes! I've read it so many times, that I can quote from memory! xoxo

A/n this might be dirtier than pt1. Will do a pt 2 of love tropes ofc. Lmk if you have some people in mind for that

-this is a work of fiction based on the actors portrayal only. Every ounce of respect to the real heros-

Warning: NSFW, plain sinful smut. Lots of language. Minors dni

Masterlist

Ronald Speirs

- this man will change your whole perspective of sex afterwards. You've both been pinning each other for a while and decide to go on a date. Yet the whole time you both have been practically removing each other's clothes with your eyes. Lingering touches, flirty behavior. Lets just say that you didn't quite make it through all the courses before Speirs asked for the check. You make it back to his place before he immediately kisses you. You start removing clothes while grabbing and feeling any skin you can both get your hands on. He turns you around to unzip your dress, taking it off your figure. He spun you back around to pick you up and set you down on the kitchen counter. You remove his belt and tug at his pants and boxers until the both of you are head to toe naked. He gives you a looks off 'are you sure' you nod yes before he lifts you legs up and fucks you. Praise after praise, surface after surface. It's a wild ride.

"Fuck you feel so good you know that princess?"

Joe toye

-he's sweet and spontaneous. It's a similar experience to George luz where it happens after a few dates. It starts slow, careful almost. But eventually you melt under him. He kisses you harder, Backs you to a wall. You remove each other's shirts. His hands unclips your bra. He makes hickies after hickies up and down your neck. He picks you up and brings you to the bedroom. Kisses down to your skirt to take that off as well. This man would love to praise you. And his voice!? He will mutter the most downright bad into your ears. He could make you come from just that alone. I feel like he's big on moaning you know. Your make him feel so good he's going to let you know that. Will do anything you ask him to do. You want him to touch you. He's instantly rubbing your clit, you want him to suck you Titts, he'll do that too. Fuck you harder and faster. He'll break the mattress. Will make you finish at least twice. Once on his cock. Then he'll clean you up with his tongue. But he is sooo sweet with the after care.

"God I wish you could see yourself right now doll. Getting fucked properly"

Eugene roe

-he's honestly a little nervous. He doesn't want to hurt you. It starts back at your place. Some wine after a good home cooked dinner. The alcohol helps with confidence. It's slow and passionate. He would be completely fine with kissing you for hours on end. But you've had one too many dirty dreams about this man so it's now or never. Eugene will be so great with foreplay. Makes you feel worshiped like no man has ever made you feel before. Always checking to make sure you're ok. When it gets time to really dance if you know what I mean he's super scared that something is going to go wrong. This poor man. You are so worked up from his touch that you have to tell him to just shut up and fuck you. It's like a switch goes off in his head. And the only thing he can suddenly think of is you. He fucks you until the only thing you can think of, only thing you can scream is his name. He robs you of every last breath in your lungs. It's dirty, passionate, sweaty and oh so good. Best God damn orgasm of your life. When you both finish and clean up. He definitely raps you up in his arms.

"Thank you"

"For what?"

"Giving me the best dick of my life"

David Webster

-HERE ME OUT! One bed trope. But it's not at a hotel or anything. You head to his place, have dinner, watch a movie, whatever. Oh no it's dark and raining. How about you stay the night? Oh crap this is a one bed apartment. You get the point. He offers you the bed and he'll sleep on the couch but you say that's silly and to just share the bed. Webster already had a huge crush on you so his ears turn a bright red, but how can he turn down the offer to share a bed with you? You get ready and both go to bed. It's awkward at first until he breaks the silence with one of those deep questions and you start talking for hours. One thing leads to another and he's on top of you. He kisses you until you lose your mind. You run your hands up his bare chest until you reach the stubble on his face. You slowly remove each article of clothing on the both of you. The air is thick and warm. Can you imagine how feral this man will go if you praise him. This man just wants some love ok? He asks you how sure you are about this, not wanting to cross any boundaries. You agree enthusiastically. You tug at his hair. Run your hands down his back. He kisses your neck, holds your waist. He's so gentle with aftercare too. From here on out you stay the night more often.

"Just like that web don't stop, so good, you're so good"

"Fuck sweetheart you're gunna make me come"

Buck Compton

-I know this is sorta cliché but fire sex. It's around the holidays. It's cold, snowing and dark outside. Inside it's warm, cozy and comfortable. You are still in puppy love faze. It's sweet. You are both on the couch blanket on top. Fire crackling. Buck reading you a book. You have thought about it a lot, sex. Yet you've never really got there. Steamy makeout sessions. Been there and done that. But it hasn't made it farther than that. But gooood you want it to. Your hands wander over him. Getting more and more close south each time. You rub his thigh, testing the waters. You can tell he notices by how his adams apple moves. You slowly undo his belt as he continues to read the book. He lets you pull his jeans down and slowly remove him from his boxers. You move your hand tauntingly slow. Not moving any faster in hopes of riling him up. He puts the book down and pulls you up to his lips. He removes your shirt and bra. Flips you over to remove your pants and underwear. He's sweet and confident in each move he makes. He kisses up and down your inner thigh until he finally makes it to the center. He gives you a taste of your own medicine. Slowly keeping you on edge with his tongue until you beg him to fuck you. And he does just that. It's better than you could have ever imagined.

"For fucks sake buck if you don't get up here and dick me down"

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers headcanon #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers smut #ron speirs x reader #joe toye x reader #eugene roe x reader #david webster x reader #buck compton x reader

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footprintsinthesxnd · 4 months

Text

I’ll Wait For You

Hey anon, thank you so much for your adorable request. I really enjoyed writing this one. I hope you enjoy. The best way to kick off the New Year? A Eugene Roe fic of course. Happy New Year everyone! Warnings: mentions of injury, family death, destruction of homes, themes of war, weapons.

Eugene couldn’t remember the last time his heart hadn’t been pounding out of his chest. Ever since they’d jumped on D-Day his heart had been beating like a trapped bird flapping its wings against his ribcage. He didn’t know whether it was fear or adrenaline; or both. He could safely say that he was scared, many of the men wouldn’t admit it and as their medic, he wouldn’t show it, but he was scared, scared for himself and his friends. It was normal to be scared. Yet Eugene had never seen anyone as scared as the large blue-eyed civilian girl looking up at him and Liebgott.

“What do we have here?” Liebgott had all but sneered, pointing his M1 at a terrified civilian. Eugene felt himself smacking the gun away from her, “Leave her be. She’s a civilian. What da hells wrong wit’ you.”

Liebgott quickly lost interest in the situation once Eugene took a protective stance in front of her, and hurried off to join Webster and a few of the others that had crowded in the square.

“It’s all right. I won’t hurt ya,” Gene spoke softly as he knelt beside her, his hands raised and his eyes not leaving hers. She backed further away from him, tears trickling down her cheeks as she mumbled something.

“What was that? Whatcha say?”

The girl mumbled again and Eugene’s demeanour quickly softened. She didn’t understand English, of course, she didn't, she was speaking French.

“C'est bon. Je ne te ferai pas de mal,” Eugene spoke again trying to reassure her he was no threat and this time the girl looked up at him, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“Tu parles français?” She asked, no longer looking as though she was about to fly out of the nearest open door.

“Je suis à moitié cajun. Toute ma famille parle français,” Eugene explained, glad that he was able to calm her down in her mother tongue. He could only imagine the horrors she had witnessed and then hiding in an abandoned house during the siege on Caretan too. He could only imagine.

“As-tu une famille? Que faites-vous ici?”

She shook her head and he wondered if he’d crossed the line by asking too much about her family.

“My family are all dead. I came here to be with my Aunt but the Germans had got to her first,” tears began to trickle silently down her cheeks again and Eugene felt himself reaching forward to place his hand on her shoulder, she didn’t pull away, instead leaning into his touch.

“I have no one left,” she muttered and now it was Eugene’s turn to look shocked.

“You speak English?”

“A little,” she admitted, “not a lot.”

Eugene couldn’t help but smile at her. She truly was pretty, her eyes striking against her pale skin, and despite the soot that covered her cheeks Eugene didn’t think he’d ever seen a girl so beautiful.

She moved a little and let out a small whimper which caused Eugene to lurch forward. “Are ya hurt?”

“No, I’m fine,” she lied, clutching her calf which was now smeared with blood, her other bloody hand raised against her chest protectively.

“What happened to ya?” Eugene asked, digging into his musette bag and pulling out a sachet of sulfa powder and a bandage. He didn’t hesitate to wrap the bandage around her thigh, pushing her dress out of the way without a second thought. She was a patient, so why should he treat her any differently, although his growing red in response told a different story.

“Tu es très doux,” the girl mused, watching as Eugene’s hands worked quickly, wrapping her leg securely. Eugene hummed in amusement, no one had ever told him he was gentle before, certainly none of the other paratroopers. “It’s true,” she repeated and giggled as Eugene’s cheeks blushed a deeper shade of red. He quickly moved on, bounding her hand, avoiding her eye contact as she watched him work.

“You should be all set,” Eugene leaned back on his feet. “Can ya try and keep off it for a few days at least?”

“I can try but I’m trying to get to a family friend's house. It’s only a few miles down the road. I’m hoping they will take me in,” she looked down at her scuffed shoes, unable to face the truth that she really was alone now.

“How about we give ya a lift? We got plenty of trucks. I can ask the Lieutenant,” Eugene added hurriedly, he didn’t know why but he desperately wanted to help this girl and yet he didn’t even know her name.

The girl just nodded, watching as Eugene stood and hurried away.

A few days later Eugene found himself passing by the quaint town they had dropped the injured girl off to. He was busying himself in an abandoned barn patching up one of the young Private's shoulders. The boy was whining and moaning at the mere flesh wound and Eugene found himself losing patience with him.

“Will ya just stay still?” Eugene grumbled, pushing his elbow firmly into the boy to steady him. The boy continued to complain but Eugene ignored him, too caught up in his work. The other paratroopers often commented on how he generally focused on the wound instead of the patient, of course, he offered words of comfort when required but he felt the attachment unnecessary. Eugene had never intended to be a medic, it was thrust upon him during training and so he had embraced his calling. He would hold the lives of his fellow paratroopers in his hands, thus denying him the ability to become attached, because if he became attached, became their friends, their brothers, well it would make it all the harder when he lost them.

A muffled voice behind him caused Eugene to turn, seeing the familiar figure in the doorway. He dismissed the private, instructing him to rest as much as possible. He whipped his hands in the spare cloth he carried, “How’s da leg?”

“It is okay. I try to rest it when I can,” she smiled at him and Eugene found his heart beating a little faster.

“Good. That’s good. How’s da hand?”

“It is good too,” she laughed, limping across the barn towards him with a basket tucked under her arm. “I was looking for you. I wanted to thank you for the other day, for your kindness.”

“Please, there ain’t no need. It’s ma job,” Eugene protested but the girl silenced him, placing her fingers to his lips.

“No, your job is to look after the soldiers, looking after me was an act of kindness.”

Eugene blushed, his eyes going cross-eyed as he watched the placement of her finger on his lips.

“Thank you,” she quickly removed his finger and pecked his lips. It was barely a kiss, his mind barely registering the action before it was over. The blush covering their cheeks and the smile on both their lips meant everything.

“I also bought you some food, it’s not a lot but you can share it with your friends if you wish,” she passed the basket towards him and Eugene gratefully accepted.

“Your kindness is too much Ma’am, how will I ever repay ya?”

“You saved my life, it is I who should be in your debt,” she replied, a delighted smile playing at her lips, as Eugene thought of a reply.

“Well, what about if I write to ya and umm… you can write to me too if you’d like,” Eugene watched nervously as the girl thought over his proposition.

“Oui. I would like this very much,” she grinned at him, before throwing her arms around his neck. “And maybe after the war is over you will come back, back here to see me again?”

“Of course, if you’ll wait for me.”

“I will wait for you,” she replied adamantly, nodding her head and Eugene felt himself smiling again. He’d never felt this way before about anyone but this girl he’d stumbled upon seemed to change that and he didn’t want her to leave.

“Wait! Ma’am, I don’t even know ya name. Will ya at least tell me that?”

She smiled at him mischievously before replying, “Write to me first American Boy, then I know you are true to your word. Then you may have my name.”

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

#eugene roe x reader #eugene roe #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers #easy company

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softguarnere · 8 months

Note

Hi, Dove!

I really love all your one-shots and headcanons! I haven’t read your OC work, but when I get the time, I’m super excited to start it.

Can I request a one-shot with Roe treating a soldier who he finds out is actually a girl disguised as a man, and her making him swear not to tell anyone? (Can be platonic or romantic). Possibly some little bits of conversation in French if it’s not too difficult? I won’t judge if you use Google translate😂French is hard.

No pressure, of course

Have a great day!

Where There is Injury

Eugene Roe x reader

A/N: (This is written for the fictional depiction from the show - no disrespect to the real veterans!) Hello friend! Thanks so much for sending in another request 🤗 I'm so glad you've enjoyed my other writing, so I hope you'll like this as well! I haven't spoken French in years, so this is most likely riddled with mistakes, but I tried haha. You have a great day as well! 💕 Warnings, PLEASE READ: this fic contains misgendering until the reader's secret is revealed, please do not read if that may be triggering for you! Also contains mentions of war, injury, and blood

“Medic!”

For what feels like the thousandth time, the word is screamed out into the woods, echoing off the charred stubs of trees as they attempt to reach the man who holds that job. One word, two syllables, yet so much responsibility tied to the title. So much pain on both the part of the person screaming and the person being screamed for.

It should be second nature by this point, with how often since arriving in Bastogne people have been wounded, been calling for help. There’s hardly ever a time when Eugene isn’t on the move, sprinting between foxholes and doing his best to dodge German artillery fire as he heads for whoever needs him – and all with little to no supplies.

Yet somehow, he finds that he has to urge and instruct himself on each next step. Vous vous levez, Eugene. Tu cours maintenant, Eugene. Tu aides les gens, Eugene.

And there he goes, boots crunching the snow underfoot as he runs toward the voice that calls for him. Pieces of the prayer that his mémère taught him as a child run through the back of his mind as he goes.

Seigneur, faites de moi un instrument de votre paix.

It’s Skinny Sisk. A piece of shrapnel has pierced his leg. Frank Perconte is trying to keep him still while he calls for a medic. Relief briefly flashes across his face when he sees Eugene appear.

“Save the morphine, Doc!” Sisk insists through gritted teeth. “I can make it.”

“You sure?”

Sisk hesitates. Then he nods, resolving himself to his fate as Eugene and Perconte raise him from the foxhole, adjusting their grip on him as they rush him towards the Jeep that’s arriving.

Là où il y a de la haine, que je mette l'amour.

Sisk screams in pain as Eugene and Perconte stumble forward. His wounded leg hits the ground first, even though they scramble to pick him up as quickly as they can.

“Aw, Jesus, Skinny, you got blood all over my trousers!” Perconte scolds.

“Gee, I’m real sorry, Frank!” Sisk hisses.

Là où il y a l'offense, que je mette le pardon.

They load Sisk onto the Jeep. Eugene starts to climb in after him. He hasn’t seen the town yet, but he needs whatever supplies they may be willing to spare, and he should make sure that Sisk gets there safely.

“Sorry,” the driver says, pressing a hand to Eugene’s chest to stop him from climbing in the vehicle.

Là où il y a la discorde, que je mette l'union.

He doesn’t argue. The company is desperate for supplies, but he’ll have to find some other way to get what they need. Instead he nods to the driver, stuffs his hands into his pockets to warm them, and starts back to his foxhole.

Là où il y a l'erreur, que je mette –

Gene stops in his tracks. In the snow at his feet there are spatters of blood staining the fresh white crystals that fell the night before. With the shellings that have happened this morning, it wouldn’t be so unusual, except that as far as he knows, no one out this way has been hit this morning. Even more curious is that when he stops walking, silencing the crunching of snow under his boots, he can hear fast breathing and the occasional groan coming from nearby.

His medic brain springs into action at once. Following the blood in the snow, Gene arrives at a foxhole that holds one person. The man sitting inside the earth is so preoccupied with trying to mop up the blood coming from his arm with a threadbare blanket that he doesn’t even notice Gene’s arrival until he drops down into the foxhole with him.

It’s (Y/L/N), one of the few Toccoa men that are left. His (Y/E/C) eyes go wide when Gene lands next to him, and he scrambles backwards, trying to get away, despite the fact that there’s nowhere for him to go.

“(Y/L/N), what happened?” Gene asks. He extends a hand. “Let me see.”

“No!” (Y/L/N) exclaims, trying in vain once again to push himself out of Gene’s reach. The word is harsh and said in a tone that Gene has never heard (Y/L/N) use before, but he ascribes all of that to the pain. (Y/L/N) must catch it too, though, because he clears his throat and says more calmly, “No, Doc, it’s nothing.”

Blood is seeping into the blanket he’s pressing to his arm. His eyes are wide and frantic. Gene supposes that he would most likely have a similar reaction if he found himself injured in this place. As much as he can empathize with (Y/L/N)’s reaction, he also needs to stand firm and help his fellow paratrooper.

“(Y/L/N), you gotta let me see,” Gene insists. He manages to remove the blanket from where it’s pressed against (Y/L/N)’s arm. Through the dark blood that stains the fabric of his sleeve, Gene can barely make out a horizontal gash along the other man’s arm. “I know it’s cold, but we need to take off your jacket so I can see your arm. Spina might – “

“No!” (Y/L/N)’s voice is low and harsh this time as he interrupts. “I don’t need Spina. I don’t need anything. It’s not that bad.”

“(Y/L/N), you’ve got blood everywhere! I can’t tell how bad it is unless you let me help you!”

“And then I’ll get sent to some aid station, and then they’ll send me home, or to jail, or worse.”

Most of the men are willing to admit that they don’t like being sent to the aid station. (Y/L/N)’s reluctance to be sent there isn’t unusual. What is unusual are the other possibilities listed: jail or worse. Why would a wounded soldier be sent to jail? And what could be worse?

Eugene’s confusion must show on his face, because (Y/L/N) blinks, mouth falling shut, as if surprised by his own words. Whatever is happening here, it’s clearly much more than just a wounded arm.

“What do you mean by that?” Eugene ventures.

(Y/L/N) winces then, drawing a shaky breath, grip tightening on his arm. When he looks back up at Eugene, something has changed. His gaze softens, as does his voice, and his eyes are a little watery, though Eugene politely pretends not to notice the last part.

“I don’t want to come off the line,” (Y/L/N) says.

“That depends on how serious that is,” Eugene asserts, nodding to the wounded arm. “You gotta let me help you.”

They’re losing what might be precious time, yet (Y/L/N) still hesitates. Finally, he draws a deep breath and nods.

“Alright. Take off your jacket so that I can see how bad it is.”

Slowly, (Y/L/N) removes his jacket, wincing as he moves his injured arm. Jumping into action, Eugene helps him shrug out of it, not willing to lose more time or more blood because of a disagreement. They’ve just managed to remove the coat when Eugene feels (Y/L/N)’s gaze on him, heavy and challenging. What? he starts to ask when finally, he sees the reason for (Y/L/N) not wanting to remove his coat.

Or should he say, her coat.

“Oh.” He sits back on his heels, his brain rushing to connect all the information that’s just come at him in these past few minutes. (Y/L/N)’s insistence that Roe leave her alone, her assertion that something bad could happen to her, the bandages around her chest . . .

Il n'y a pas de temps pour ça, he reminds himself, once again instructing himself on what to do next. Réparer ce bras. Posez vos questions plus tard.

Luckily for the both of them, the wounds on (Y/L/N)’s arm aren’t that serious – a few gashes from shrapnel, but nothing that needs stitching up. For her sake, Eugene tries to keep the mood light when he finishes bandaging her up. “I’ll make sure you get a Purple Heart for it.”

Shrugging back into her coat, (Y/L/N) offers him a tight-lipped smile. Several times she draws a breath as if to speak, only to stop herself, allowing the foxhole to remain in its vacuum of silence.

“I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Eugene finally assures her. This must have been what she was worried about, because relief washes over her face, although its quickly replaced with a suspicious brow raise.

“Why not?”

“Well, why would I?” Really, why would he? It’s none of his business. Not really. Besides, if (Y/L/N) has made it all the way from Toccoa to Bastogne with this secret, then she’s pretty good at keeping it. It’s been years, after all, and Eugene never would have suspected. And, he reasons, to give up her life to disguise herself as a man and become a paratrooper – well, that’s definitely taken some guts, whatever her reasons. Reasons that he doesn’t know, but that he’s starting to wonder about.

Ce ne sont pas mes affaires, Eugene reminds himself. Still, though . . .

“Well, thank you,” (Y/L/N) says with a curt nod. Then she lets out a deep sigh, burying her head in her hands. When she emerges again, she has an air of resolve about her. “Would you . . . As long as you’re not going to tell anyone, that is, could you – could you help me keep this secret safe?” She won’t quite meet his gaze when she confesses, “It can get a little lonely.”

Whatever Eugene was expecting her to say, it wasn’t that. But he can understand what she’s talking about, the loneliness of this place. Especially as a medic. “Of course.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. Still a little bloody, she extends a hand to him. “(Y/N),” she says. “Nice to properly meet you.”

He shakes her hand in kind; she’s got a very confident handshake. “You as well.”

It really is, he must admit. Strange, how in just a few chance moments, some of the cold loneliness of Bastogne has begun to melt away.

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers fanfic #eugene roe #eugene roe x reader #my writing #hbo war fanfic #hbo war

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b00ks1ut · 2 months

Text

I Got Your Back

Eugene Roe x GN!Reader

Warnings! Alcohol consumption, harassment, blood, mild violence, swearing, mild injury, my attempt at writing lol, I’m really hoping I got all the big stuff

This is based only off the tv series and I intend no offense to the real men of Easy Company or any veterans

Sorry if this is bad! I had such bad block while writing this and for some reason it’s taken me like 4 months to complete this short little thing😭 anyways I’m hoping it’s not horrible!

Also this was written for @executethyself35! Thank you so much for being so amazing and I’m so so sorry this has taken 5 and 1/2 years lol You’re amazing and literally the best <3

The bar was loud and stuffy and crowded, but it was fully of paratroopers, what did you expect? You were sat at a little round table, crowed with too many men; most now at least tipsy and all thourally enjoying the rare weekend pass that Sobel didn't take from them.

"You need another drink?" Eugene barely had to lean over in his chair to reach your ear due to the cramped situation that was your table.

"Oh, yeah. I'll get 'em this time, you got the last ones." You told him turning towards the medic sat next you, your noses nearly touching, and you had to almost lean back to stop yourself from bumping into him.

"No, I ain't gonna make you do that." He began to reach for your now empty glass but you quickly stopped his hand from fully grasping the cup.

"Please, I've gotta spend all this extra paratrooper money," you joked, pushing his hand away and giving it a quick squeeze. You quickly stood and grabbed his mug, not giving him a chance to object.

You had made it hardly 6 feet away from the occupied table, through the impossibility close crowd, when an unknown man had stepped into your path. You had attempted to step around him but it was no use, this man was a wall unwilling to move.

"I'm sorry is there a chance you could move please?" If he wasn't going to read your very obviously uninterested body language then he could hopefully read you as equally uninterested lips.

"Now how about I don't do that and instead take you home?" He was handsome in his own way, he definitely wasn't ugly but was certainly not your type.

"Oh no thank you, I'm just trying to get a couple of drinks for me and friend." You again tried to step around him but he kept moving in a step in front of you. You looked around hoping to catch someone's eye but for how many people were the damn bar you couldn't seem to catch the eye of a single you knew. "I'd really appreciate it if you just let me get my drink."

"How about if I let you get your drink, you'll owe me a drink." He was smirking to himself like this normally worked for him, intimidating people into dancing and sleeping with him. Now that you thought about it, maybe he wasn't just not your type; maybe he just wasn't everybody's type so he had to resort to this sad creepy behavior that definitely was getting him nowhere.

"They don't owe you a damned thing." The familiar Cajun accented voice had reached your ears before you were even aware he was nearby. "How about you get a move on now and we'll all have just a fine and dandy of the night."

"I don't think so no." This man was either the biggest piece of shit or was denser than fuck and you were certain it was the former. Before you could think of a response he had grabbed your arm and began trying to pull you away. As if it were second nature you took the glass in your hand and brought down hard on his hand.

The glass shattered. Pieces flying in all directions but most of the pieces finding their home in the back of the man's hand.

"You fucking whore!" He had quickly ripped his hand away cradled it in his other hand.

"I'm the whore here? I'm not sure what Not want to have sex with you makes me a whore but if it means you'll leave me alone then I'll make it a badge wear it on my uniform." You weren't sure where this attitude was coming from and you had nothing else to blame it on than your last few drinks and the current adrenaline racing through your veins.

The man was still standing there dumbstruck when you turned around to find Gene standing there. His eyes scanned across your face before leaping down the arm the man had just grabbed you by.

His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes became increasingly more concerned when he noticed the cuts on my arm from a few stray pieces of glass. His eyes flicked back to yours.

“I’ll getcha patched up.” He hadn’t left any room for argument but you might as well try.

“I’m alright, it’s nothing I can’t handle on my own.” But by the time the reply had left your lips Eugene already had your hand in his and was walking towards the door.

“You can’t just leave them glass pieces in, it’ll never get better.”

“Fine, I’ll take your word for it.” Why complain when the most attractive man you’ve ever met was asking to take care of you. Only an idiot would pass that up.

Cool dark of outside was a welcome change from the stuffy pub and you relished in it, not having had a break from the heat of George in a while.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was just a low rumble and you weren’t sure if you were imagining it.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he had now turned around and faced you, still holding your hand. “I shoulda gone with you to get drinks and I shoulda done more. I just-“ He ran his other hand over his face before rubbing the back of his neck.

“Gene, you have nothing the apologize for. I was the one who insisted I get the drinks, I was the one who couldn’t get myself out of the situation. It’s on me, not you.” You gave his hand a squeeze and his arm a little tug, causing him to finally look at you after staring at this boots this whole time. “But none of that matters anymore, he’s gone and now there’s nothing to worry about.”

“What about your arm? I can’t let you just ignore it.” He was looking at you with such concern and care and all you could do was stare. Yeah staring is rude but how could you not? His short hair was sticking up in different places from him running his hands through it and the light from the bar was casting a beautiful glow that made his eyes sparkle in a way you never saw them before.

He was gorgeous. Not that you’d never noticed this before, but the realization hit you like a truck and it completely stole your breath; he stole your breath.

“Ma joie?” His voice brought you back, a flush spreading across your face.

“Huh? Sorry.” You realized you were still holding his hand, and finally let it drop. The warmth of the rough skin of his was quickly wicked away by the night air.

“Where’d you go?” He was looking at you like you mattered, like you were more than a body. More than a number. More than the shell that Sobel had been working you down to.

“Sorry… um just distracted. What were you saying?”

“I was asking if you need help with your arm.” His eyes left yours to flick down to the still bloody and leaky cut of your arm.

“Oh. I can handle it on my own.” You were kicking yourself the moment the words left your mouth. The best man you’ve ever met wants to take care of you, and you can’t seem to let him.

“I really was just askin’ to be nice but there’s no way I’m letting you take care of this yourself. And I’m especially not letting you make your way back to base when filth like him are around.”

“I can hold my own, I was just wasn’t trying to make a scene in there.” You didn’t know why you kept making these excuses for him to leave you. You didn’t want him to walk away, every bit of yourself wanted to jump on him but a bit of you was too scared of just a little bit of rejection to have him just patch you up.

“I’m not doubting that you could but I am worried you might be a little drunk and that if I don’t help you get that arm cleaned up you’ll be nice and infected in a week.” He had a point, a good point he made a few times now. And what is there to be scared of with him. Eugene Roe is quite possibly one of the kindest most caring people you know what is there to be worried about, if you messed up and made a move he would react completely responsibly.

But for some reason you kept fighting it.

“I just don’t want to be a bother. Go have fun, Gene, I didn’t mean to upturn the night. I’m sure everyone is waiting for you in there.”

“Nope. Not a chance I’m leaving. You’re stuck here with me, and it’s cold and dark so while I’d love to continue this amazing little conversation I really think it might be our best interest to start the trip back to base.”

I was obvious he was done with the back and forth so you let it drop.

—————————

It wasn’t long until you were back where you needed to be. All of the light posts were turned on but no one was out and about save for the few drunk-ish men stumbling from barrack to barrack. Many of the lights to the cabins were on and laughter and conversation could be heard from the people within them.

Gene grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the dark, unlit medic tent. The walk a short and easy trek through the mazes of buildings, as he seemed to know where the tent was and could get you there with his eyes closed walking backwards.

You quietly arrived to the temporary shelter and are met with… nothing. No noise, no startling smell; just more dark. And the awareness that you’re all alone with Eugene.

He continues to tug you over to a table set up in the center of the room. A few crates next to them that he immediately begins to rummage through.

“Can I help with anything?” Your voice cuts through the quiet, just barely above a whisper.

“No, I got it.” He pauses briefly to look at you, never really stopping his hands from sifting through the supplies.

“Eugene, please. I want to help you, how can I help? Even just a little bit, I feel like I’m just in the way.”

“You can help by sitting yourself up on that table there and letting me take care of you. That’s all I ask, that you let someone take care of you; even if it’s just this one time.” His tone was soft, his accent showing through the caring tone. He had grabbed all of the items from the crate and was just staring at you. Looking at you.

Slowly, as if approaching a wild animal, Gene set the supplies on the table and stepped to you. His thighs brushing your knees

Everything about him was stunning. From his heavily disheveled hair all the way down to his spit shined boots, he was perfect.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice had come out uneven and hoarse, barely audible even in the quiet evening.

“What for?”

“You’ve been nothing but kind to me all night and I keep pushing you away. I don’t know why, I think I’m just scared. I mean… we ship off in just a few weeks and then anything could happen. I can’t go getting attached to anyone; especially you.” You averted your gaze to the ground so you wouldn’t have to see his face when he realized what a horrible coward you are.

But, instead of him lashing out and leaving you his hand gently came to your chin, tilting back up, forcing you to look at him again.

“I don’t blame you for that. We’re all terrified, but what’s the point of being here if we’re not going to make the most of it while we can. Why die regrettin’ what’s right in front of you when you all you gotta do is reach a little and grab it. I’m scared that some of the best people I’ve met are not going to come back and I might be included in that but I’m also scared that I’m not gonna take the beautiful opportunity I have right now… with you.” His gaze was soft and gentle. He looked quickly at your lips before taking a small step back. “But I should probably patch you up first.”

“I’m fine.” You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him to yourself until your lips met. Eugene didn’t move, he stayed completely still. You quickly pulled away. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- I didn’t ask. I just assumed-“

His lips swiftly covered yours. You returning the affection. His lips soft and gentle against yours, still tasting of the ale he left back at the pub.

It was all over before you could completely let yourself get absorbed into him. His soft breaths fanned over your face as his forehead tenderly connected with yours.

“Can I get you fixed up now?” A playful glint in his eye, and a blush so bright you could still see it in the dark, adorned his face.

“I suppose I’ll allow it.” Your smile morphing into a smirk.

He picked up a pair of tweezers, from the pile he had set next to you, pinching them at you jokingly.

“Let me know if I hurt you.” He gently grabbed your arm by the elbow and maneuvered it to where he needed it. The contact from him, although little, had a fresh blush creep up your neck.

“I’m sure that I’ll be fine.”

You soon learned that was not true. Once he had gotten all of the biggest pieces out of your arm, his search for the tinier shards started. You tried to muffle your winces but everyone he’d stop and wait until your face had returned to neutral.

“Ma joie, please let me know when I hurt you. I don’t have much left to get but I hate to be hurting you, so let me know so I can stop it.” Gene had set down the tweezers so he could hold your hands.

“I’m not hurting. I’m completely fine.” Your lie was obvious but he was doing enough for you already that why would you interrupt his process just because you’re not completely comfortable.

“Alright then.” He picked the tweezers up again and got the last few pieces out, still pausing whenever you flinched a little too hard. He then proceeded to do the most gentle cleaning and wrapping ever performed in history. He rinsed out the area, dabbing away all the water like if he pressed too hard your arm would fall off. Then he wrapped it all up in a sterile bandage, asking if it was too tight every two wraps around your bicep. “All done!”

You went to slide off the table but his hands held you in place. “I thought we were done?” He just stared, emotion clear in his eyes.

“Can I kiss you again?” You surprised yourself with the question. You had been thinking the thought since it happened the first time just 30 minutes before.

“Of course you can.” His hands came up to your face, cupping your cheeks and lead you together.

I was the same but different from the first kiss. This one wasn’t hesitant or awkward as you tried to find your placement, you meshed perfectly. Your lips moving over each others in perfect harmony. Little puffs of air from his nose tickling your lashes, and the way he smiled into the kiss had you melting into his hands.

Your arms went up his chest to his shoulders, stopping to loop around his neck; your fingers curling slightly into his hair. All of Eugene was surrounding you, his smell, his taste, his entire presence was all you could comprehend in the moment.

He eventually pulled away, breathing heavy. Eyes slowly opening back up to look into yours.

“Thank you.” You don’t know why you said it. You were saying for the man that left you alone when he arrived. You were saying it for the bandage snuggly tied around your bicep. You were saying it for the breath taking kiss you just had. But most of all you were saying it for the man that was going to be there for you in every moment he could be.

“I got your back; through it all.” He squeezed your hips, his eyes never leaving yours.

“And I yours.”

#eugene roe #eugene roe x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #gn reader #hbo war #easy company #hbowar

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alyygx · 5 months

Text

Just Hold My Hand

Paring: Eugene Roe x Reader

Requested?: Yes, by @xxluckystrike

Warnings: None really. Just lots of fluff. So much fluff, in fact, you'll feel like you're floating on a cloud!

A/N: This is the first fic I've written in quite a long time so please be kind. I hope you all like it! And if you do please tell your friends or maybe even reblog! And then shoot me a request while you're at it. 😊

The cigarette smoke hung thick in the air as you sat smiling to yourself watching the rowdiness around you. These boys sure know how to enjoy themselves and Lord knows they all deserved it. Especially after everything this war had put them through. You were nursing your second glass of wine sitting on a stool that was brought outside. Everyone was gathered at a clearing in the woods just next to the beautiful building you were all staying in while in Austria. Spiers had forced everyone outside after the noise being made interfered with him concentrating on his paperwork. But there was no stopping the celebration. VE day was definitely something that needed celebrating. After all, it had been a long time coming. Sometimes you felt as if the war would last forever; that somehow this was just your life now, an endless cycle of blood, violence and death. You were one of the medics in Easy Co. and though you would do practically anything to take care of your war family you frankly couldn't stand seeing one more soldier wounded, bleeding, or in pain. It completely broke your heart in two. At that you grabbed your glass of wine and downed it, attempting to chase the thought away.

In the distance of the buzzing party chaos you heard a voice, sounding a lot like Luz but slurred, summoning you to come and join in the festivities. It's not that you weren't extremely thrilled that the Germans surrendered, far from it, you just really weren't a party person. The majority, if not the entirety, of the men were thoroughly drunk at this point and you were just ready to get out of there. You shook your head 'no' in Luz's direction and slid off the stool you were sitting on.

"Sorry guys. You're having way too much fun I'm afraid I couldn't keep up tonight." You said chuckling.

Luz just shrugged his shoulders and with a smile turned back to the group. As you turned to walk away you collided with another warm body only to discover it was Eugene.

"Where have you been hiding? I've been sitting here waiting for you!" You giggled, looking at your fellow medic waiting for his answer.

You and Gene had steadily grown closer and closer over the course of the war. Him being one of the few soldiers in company who could completely understand the things you were going through and vice versa. You both had finally admitted your feelings for each other and made things official shortly after Bastogne. With everything that happened in that God forsaken forrest being worried about rejection suddenly seemed like a stupid reason to not share what you feeling. Eugene apparently felt the same way too because you both ended up just blurting it out to each other at the same time and then laughing at your shared impatience.

"Sorry darlin' I didn't realize the location of the festivities had been changed. Walked around inside looking for everyone for 20 minutes before Spiers yelled from his office for me to look outside." He said smiling at you.

After glancing around at the other men and their drunken antics though his smile fell.

"You don't actually want to be here do you?" You asked, secretly hoping he wanted to do literally anything else but hang around this party.

"What?" He said suddenly as if you snapped him out of a thought. "Do you wanna get out of here?" Gene asked, taking both of your hands in his.

A wide smile spread across your face as your grip on Gene's hands tightened. He could tell by the look in your eyes that you had an idea.

"Yeah, and I think I know just the place to go."

Letting go of one of Gene's hands and pulling him along with the other you both started walking away from the festivities and onto a path that would lead you deeper into the woods. After walking together for several minutes, your hands never parting, you arrived at the lake. The moonlight was reflecting off the water and the mountains lined the background standing tall and regal topped with snow at their tips. It was the clearest night you'd seen in awhile. Not a single cloud in the sky and the stars shining so big and bright they looked like literal diamonds glistening out from a black background.

"This has been my favorite spot since we arrived here." You said staring out at the view. "But I had no idea how beautiful it would be at night"

Your eyes never left the view, Gene's eyes, however, never left you.

"Well, let's enjoy it then." Gene said, slowly beginning to sit on the ground, pulling you with him by your still entwined hands. You both laid close to each other, your hands still never parting.

"I use to do this all the time as a child." Gene told you. "Just laying, staring up at the stars at night. Really has a way of helping you figure things out."

You nodded your head in agreement. Allowing your thoughts to wander. To take you to what life will be like after you finally get to go home. You had told Gene that after you took a quick trip to see your family and gather your things that you would move to New Orleans with him. You're far from having second thoughts but now that Germany had surrendered you were beginning to get even more nervous about it.

"Gene?" You ask softly.

"Hmmm..." He hummed in acknowledgement.

"What if they don't like me?"

"Huh? Who mon cher?"

"Your family. I've never lived so far away from home before. What if they don't like me?"

Gene just smiled. His thumb beginning to rub circles on the back of your hand.

"Oh chérie. You have nothing to worry about. I know for a fact that they're going to love you. If for no other reason than because I love you."

This made you smile. Gene had always had a way of soothing you no matter what you were upset about. It's one of the many reasons you fell for him.

"Things are going to be so great once we get home. We might have to stay with my parents for a little while before we find a place of our own. But once I get a job and save up I'm gonna buy you the prettiest house in New Orleans. We'll fix it up real nice inside and get everything set to start our lives together!"

Gene was squeezing your hand now in such a manner that you couldn't help but feel his excitement. It was getting you hopeful for the future too. But at the same time you were still nervous. He seemed to pick up on this because he suddenly stopped talking.

"You ok?" He asked turning to face you.

"Yeah." You started. "It all sounds wonderful, it really does. It's just the idea of being in a new place so far from my family. I'm still a little nervous. It'll be different then being away from them like I have during the war because this time it'll be by choice. Or at least more of a choice than I felt I had when I enlisted." You sighed.

Gene just looked at you with those soft eyes of his you loved so much. Eyes so full of caring and compassion you could've just leaned over and kissed him right there.

"Everything will be fine mon amour. Any time you feel nervous or unsure all you have to do is just hold my hand. I promise that with time it will feel like home. We'll build our home together, we'll build our life together, and then once you feel comfortable we can get married." Gene smiled a hopeful smile while fishing his free hand in his pocket and suddenly pulling out something shiny.

You gasped, your eyes growing wide. It was the most beautiful ring you had ever seen.

"Well, what do you think?" He asked, holding the ring to hover over your left ring finger. "Will you marry me?"

Tears now filled your eyes. The whole thing felt like a dream. A dream you never wanted to wake from.

"Of course I will." You answered, the tears now running down your cheeks.

"We're gonna make it chère. I promise. Doesn't matter if the times are good or bad, all you have to do is just hold my hand."

#eugene roe x reader #eugene roe #george luz #ronald speirs #just hold my hand #writing requests #alyygx #band of brothers

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barbeygirl · 5 months

Text

Roofless Love

Eugene Roe x fem!reader

Summary: Eugene yearns over a nurse.

Warnings: A little obsessive maybe? Unrequited love. I wrote this a month ago in a weird mindset. She/her pronouns used for reader

Words: 250

Eugene’s eyes followed her movements. She was bringing water to the wounded and stocking up the stashes after the far too long awaited supply drop. Tonight the sick would go to sleep with food in their stomachs and with clean bandages. And she would be able to rest, along with the other medical personnel, without the stress of trying to heal someone without anything to give them. And you did seem calmer.

Gene wonders if it’s because of said stress and constant rush. The sleepless nights they’ve spent as new men are carried inside in the night’s shielding darkness. Is that why she never really gives him the time of the day? Her mind seemingly always somewhere else as he holds her close. Eugene tried to understand, he really did. He found so much comfort in you. He’d soothe himself to sleep with pretty thoughts about you. What were you thinking of? If not his touch, what did you find your comfort in?

Still, she never pushed him away. She lets him hold her hand and bring her head against his chest. They had spent a night together in a roofless, former factory building, sharing warmth. Eugene would share so much more if only she’d let him. He hadn’t felt anything like he had that night, in that old aid station, when he felt her body relax in his arms. He had looked up at the night sky and wished the sun would never rise again.

#can’t tell if i hate this or not #it’s kinda all over the place but it makes it kind of feel like a flow of thoughts #idk #eugene roe #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #eugene roe x reader #band of brothers x reader #hbo war #doc roe #Spotify #x reader

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bloodstainedsaint · 5 months

Text

eugene roe x best friend + medic! reader hcs

word count: 900+

warnings: mentions of war (obv) but overall fluffy happy stuff :)

notes: this is really self-indulgent but i hope y'all enjoy it too

first of all, i feel like you're the only person that eugene would ever call by their nickname (at least before babe)

his nickname(s) for you would probably be based off your name or where you're from (if you're not also from louisiana), like “bluebonnet” for texas

your nickname(s) for him would be gene, bayou, or my favorite: genie

when you call him by his real name, that's how you know it's a serious matter

someone would ask: “why do you call doc roe genie?”

“‘cause he makes your wishes come true when he treats you”

if you're from louisiana, then that’s how you know him; otherwise, you guys met in the army, or thru my personal hc: you went to nursing school in louisiana and met him in a town there before the war started

being friends with eugene means that you’re either an extrovert or actually an introvert who is less soft-spoken than eugene and is therefore the more outgoing one between the two of you (bc someone has to be the talker and it's not going to be him)

when he gets mad at you (usually coming from a place of concern, like you were being too risky saving someone…or you didn't eat), he cusses at you/reprimands you in french, and if you don’t know french, then you’re just hearing angry french noises

will give you chocolate bars, a listening ear, and words of advice when you're feeling down (bc his love language is acts of service and quality time)

you’re there to calm him down whenever all his bottled up emotions are too much to suppress any further and he blows up, like with winters and welsh or when he returns from bastogne

you let him know that what he’s feeling is entirely valid and shouldn’t be swallowed down

he’d definitely go off at/death stare anyone messing with you, and you'd do the same for him (but everyone in the company loves y'all so i don't see this happening)

you’re the one who encourages him to talk to easy company’s men, because you know that you could lose them but you’re friends with them anyway and you want him to get close to them too

when eugene’s smiling, you’re smiling because you just want to see him happy

actually, he smiles the most around you, even if it's the fleeting kind

you, as you snuff out the cigarette he was smoking: “how do you smoke and you're a medic? that stuff kills you”

cue eugene hitting you with a slightly annoyed look (he does that a lot) (with love ofc)

when he comes back from the town of bastogne for the first time, you like to tease him about meeting renée

“someone finally understood your gibberish!” or “bayou, why does your face look red? usually you look sickly and pale”

bc that boy looks like a ghost in the ardennes

you’re cheerful when he makes a friend in babe heffron, because until then eugene was only sticking by you

during off-duty times where no one's actively in danger, the two of you are inseparable; where one goes the other is not far, and that goes for anywhere the company takes you

you guys shared a foxhole in bastogne before dike told you two to split up so the company didn’t lose two medics with one shelling

but before that you would huddle up with him for warmth, your head on his shoulder and his head resting on your head

sibling bond fr

from a distance, he smiles as he watches you interact and laugh with the easy guys until you pull him in so he could be part of the camaraderie too

when someone yells medic, one of you goes and the other stays if someone else gets hurt for max efficiency

when the two of you do work together, it's like you guys are in sync, hardly needing to use words to communicate what the other needs to do

you like to mess up his already spiky hair

you can tell when he’s feeling despondent, so you just sit there with him in silence, keeping him company with a few jokes or random stories here and there to get his mind off of things, seeing as he's not really one to vent

if you like someone in the company, trust that eugene is scrutinizing them, making sure that they’re a good match for you and that they’re going to treat you right

he’ll also warn you that having a crush in the military or being in a relationship during war could be dangerous; he has your best interests at heart, but you have to tell him that you know what you're getting into

he WILL tease you a little bit though

“want me to go injure (your crush’s name) so you can treat him?”

cue you smacking him with a “gene!”

he’s protective over you; he’ll stand slightly in front of you when shit starts going down, and if you’re close enough, he’ll check that you're okay first before going on to the rest of the men

you best believe that after the war, you guys are still the best of friends and will keep in touch and visit each other, even if your paths diverge

the rapport between fellow medics is unmatched, and that’s especially the case for you two <3

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #eugene roe #eugene roe x reader #hbo war #doc roe #doc roe x reader #hbo war fanfic #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #101st airborne #easy company #shane taylor #band of brothers fanfic

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hobbit-historian · 2 months

Text

Memories

Summary: you give Eugene a gift and are a bit confused by his reaction.

A/N: there’s not really any warnings with this one, other than the typical this deal with ww2 and its brutality. The reader here is a WAC mechanic. I couldn’t find anything specific on where they might have been stationed in relation to the front, so I placed the mechanics at the aid station.

The supplies had just come in.

She had been waiting for these crates - machine parts were supposed to be delivered with them.

But that wasn’t the most exciting part.

No, there had been a mess up and a previous set of boxes had been delivered to the wrong area. So aw an apology, there were chocolate bars in this set.

Y/N’s mouth watered as she thought about the chocolate. It had been so long since she had tasted such a luxury, and even longer since that luxury had been chocolate.

When the crates were unloaded off of the truck, all of the WACs were gathered around expectantly, murmuring to themselves about the promised sweets. Wen handed the crates off to some of the women, Y/N passing some back to those behind her.

Soon they had a line of people passing crates down the line. Once they were all unloaded the WACs tore into them eagerly. Once the prized chocolate was located, shouts went up from the women. Cheers sounded around the room as the chocolate exchanged hands. Y/N made sure everyone else got a bar before she took a couple for herself.

She smiled down at the bars, already knowing that she wasn’t going to eat either one. No, some special people were going to get these instead.

* * *

A jeep engine grumbled in the distance, a normal sound for this close to the front. Not only was the aid station here, but the WAC mechanics were here as well. Y/N looked up despite the normalcy of the sound, hoping to see one person in particular. She always hated when Eugene had to come back here - it meant there had been a casualty of some sort in Easy company. As much as she wanted Eugene to be on one of those jeeps, it always meant that someone else the knew was hurt.

So when she saw Eugene looking at her from the back of the jeep, her heart did a confused flip.

He nodded at her - he would take care of his wounded first and then would stop by and say hello.

Y/N smiled, trying to be reassuring, but it was hard, knowing that one of Eugene’s brothers was on that stretcher.

So she kept her mind on her work, knowing that Eugene would be over if he could. When she was finished with the jeep part, she found a nearby bucket and used the collected water to wash the grease off of her fingers.

“Hey” a soft voice called behind her.

When she turned, Eugene was there, hat in his hands. He wore a soft smile, but there was a sadness on his eyes.

There seemed to be more of that lately.

Y/N threw her arms around Eugene, murmuring into his shoulder.

“What’s that?” His breath was warm in her hair, and for a moment Y/N didn’t think about the war, about the jeep in pieces behind her, or her wet hands drying on Eugene’s jacket.

“Nothin’. “

She jumped backwards, grabbing Eugene by his arms. “Guess what I got today.” Her smile was wide. Eugene glanced down at her hands and then back up at her, a true smile ghosting his lips. Y/N looked at her own hands, and noting the wet handprints on the jacket, she let go of Eugene.

“Oh.”

But she turned right around and dried her hands on the cloth scrap, hoping that Eugene didn’t care too much about the wet hand prints on his uniform.

“Come on.” She motioned for him to follow and turned to go further into the building. It was an old school that had been turned into the aid station. The very back of the building was used to repair the jeeps, radios, and other machinery that the WAC could work on. Because they worked in shifts, one area of the school had been set aside for sleeping. Y/N led Eugene through the back of the building until they reached the meager corner she was using to catch some rest in between shifts. She dug into her pack and produced the chocolate bar.

“I managed to snag a couple. One went to a boy in town who told me he had never had chocolate before.” She stood and turned to face Eugene.

“Gene, you should’ve seen the look on his face when…” she trailed off as she noticed Eugene.

His eyes were locked onto the chocolate bar and his face had drained of color.

Eugene’s hand shook as he reached out towards the bar. But his fingers halted at the edge of the wrapper. “Mon dieu,” he whispered.

Y/N faltered. “Gene?”

All she could see was Gene’s hand as it started to shake, his fingers tips even drained of color. He grabbed the chocolate bar and brought it up to his face. His eyes were drained of their usual sparkle as he beheld the bar.

“Gene?” Y/N asked again. He still didn’t answer and only stared at the chocolate.

Y/N gave him some space. She had no idea why he was reacting the way he was - she could only guess it had something to do with an earlier event in the war. So she waited. Waited until he was ready to talk.

Eventually, Eugene’s eyes focused in on Y/N. He stated, as if surprised that she was still there.

“Ma Cherie, where’d you find this?” He swallowed, hard, and then spoke again. “I haven’t had chocolate since…” Another swallow. “Since Bastogne.”

Y/N kept her eye contact with Eugene and nodded. She understood. Things had happened in Bastogne that no person should ever have to go through. Things had happened to Eugene that no person should have to go through.

“You don’t have to take the chocolate if you don’t want to, Gene.” She put her hand out, palm up. Eugene’s eyes flicked down to her hand and then back up to her face.

“No, I’ll keep it. It’ll be nice to have something sweet remember you by.” He winked at her, but she could tell there was less heart in it than usual. So she proffered him a smile and put her hand on Eugene’s. His fingers were still shaking, but they stilled slightly under her touch. She watched as his smile even out a bit too.

“Well then, let’s go find some food and we can get you whatever supplies you need, ok?”

“Sounds good, mon Cherie.”

***

He thought about that bar all the way back to the front. Not only the bar in his pack, but the original bar, the one in Bastogne. He looked down at his bag, picturing the one there. It looked so different, yet he knew it would be the same. It would smell the same, taste the same, be the same color. Only the wrapping was different.

And the person who gave it to him.

She was different. Y/N was very different than most of the people he knew. She had been so happy to get the chocolate, and so happy to give it to him. But he had barely paid attention to what she was saying as soon as he laid eyes on the bar.

It took him straight back there, to that bleak winter where all her could do was watch people die.

And like the different person she was, Y/N had picked up on that.

She had even tried to reverse the situation.

Reaching into his bag, he drew out the chocolate and brought it up to eye level. The jeep driver noticed and did a double take.

“Whatcha got there?”

Eugene merely put the bar back in his bag and said “a second chance.”

#band of brothers #eugene roe x reader #eugene roe #band of brothers imagine #ww2 #hbo war #eugene roe x oc #Eugene roe x y/n

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We'll Meet Again

[One-shot]

Eugene Roe x Nurse!Female Reader

Nine hours is all it takes for Eugene Roe to realize that his hesitance to share his feelings for you was completely misguided.

Warnings: Language, Weapons, Canon Typical Violence, Smoking, Treatment of Wounds, Medical Procedures, Hospital Settings, Pining, Questionably Written Cajun Accent, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY

Author’s Note: The title of this fic is based off the song We'll Meet Again by Vera Lynn (I recommend the version where she is accompanied by Sailors, Soldiers & Airmen of His Majesty's Forces). This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 7578

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“Roe it’s not mine, I’m alright. Roe.” Eugene was vaguely aware of your voice as he pulled at your blood drenched field jacket, fingers fumbling slightly as he fought with the buttons before he was able to delve beneath, beginning to tug at your sweater and wool shirt, desperate to find where you were hit. “I’m fine, please…Eugene!” You grabbed his wrists forcefully, your blood-slicked fingers sliding against his skin, but it was enough to finally pull his attention to your face. “It’s not my blood, I’m alright.” You repeated gently as his eyes met yours and he exhaled at last.

He frowned anew as he lifted a hand to wipe at the splatter of arterial spray across your cheek, succeeding only in smudging the scarlet across your beautiful skin, marring it further. You sighed and gestured with your head to the SS officer laying on the table behind him, his now-unseeing eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling, the wound at his neck obviously the source of all the blood you wore.

You tugged at his left wrist, which you still held within your grasp, and he looked back to you quickly, following as you led him over to a bank of sinks at the back of the room. As you released him, he watched you grimace slightly at the sensation of the blood growing slightly tacky between your skin and his. You took both his hands in yours and gently began to wash them.

Eugene’s heart throbbed tenderly as he watched the warm water sluice pink before your fingers thoroughly coated his skin with soap then rinsed it clean. Looking up to you with a soft smile, he was reminded of the state of your face and quickly swiped it clean with his wet thumb, lips stretching hopelessly wider at your warm grin.

“Nine hou’s.” He sighed, jaw clenching as his chest constricted painfully, the terror and anguish he’d been desperately trying to hold at bay all day flooding back to him.

“What?” You asked, confusion painting your face and he swallowed roughly, having to fight to focus while standing in your presence after so many months apart.

“Ya were missin’ – a hostage – fo’ nine hou’s.” He pressed his lips together, struggling to hold back the depth and breadth of his feelings on the matter.

He watched you swallow and put on that brave smile you wore for the sake of soothing your patients. “It was just like any other nine hours, except there were German patients and machine guns.”

“Please don’ give me tha’ smile.” He muttered sadly. “Are ya really alrigh’?” He pressed, eyeing you meaningfully.

Your brow twitched, mouth opening, looking about answer his question when the door to the room opened and you stepped back to grab a towel, handing it to him. “I’m just fine, Roe, thank you for asking. The rest of the SS patients are through that door there.” You gestured, nodding to the latest arrival, Webster, who quickly went through to secure the next room with Liebgott hot on his heels.

Roe watched as you assumed your professional mantle, leading him into the room where seven SS men, prisoners now, were being looked after by the rest of the nurses that had been in your hospital convoy when the 6th SS Mountain Division had decided to take you all hostage to provide them with medical care in this abandoned nursing home near Juchen. The women immediately flocked to you for direction and Eugene realized that you now wore a silver 1st Lieutenant’s insignia on your collar, promoted since he’d first met you that night in February of last year in Swindon.

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“These heels are killing me…” You muttered as you finally escaped the dancefloor to sit at the table next to Eugene’s, wedging yourself into the corner defensively.

He’d been watching you all night. Watching as trooper after trooper of the 506th from Able right through Item asked you to dance, barely giving you a moment to sit despite how tired you looked, behind that beautiful smile of yours, and how time and again you accepted, too polite to refuse.

“I’m surprised you didn’t wear your combat boots.” One of your tablemates teased.

A mischievous grin crossed your features and Eugene ducked his head as he found his lips twitching automatically in response to it. “Well, I would have except every time I upend the things, I still find sand from North Africa.”

A chorus of laughter flitted around the table and Eugene was convinced that yours was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard, finding himself thoroughly annoyed when it was extinguished by a couple of men sidling over to pull a few of your fellow nurses onto the dancefloor again.

“What was it like…over there…” A timid voice piped up as the band began to play that Vera Lynn song the Brits were crazy about and Eugene risked a glance at your face as you addressed a young woman, she could not be much older than twenty, only the two of you remaining at the table.

“Well, Barbara,” You paused thoughtfully, eyes focusing on some distant memory, the hints of fatigue he’d seen lurking beneath your smile coming to the fore for a brief moment before you turned to your colleague with a reassuring warmth. “It’s exactly like they say it’ll be.” You nodded firmly.

The girl’s shoulders relaxed as she smiled in relief, nodding in renewed confidence as you each took a sip of your drink. Eugene swallowed, wishing he could hear your real thoughts on North Africa, not just the canned propaganda reels put together to show before the pictures, but the firsthand account of a medical professional. There was only so much training could prepare them for, and they all knew as soon as the weather was right, they were headed for France.

Despite the longing he felt to do so, Eugene did not ask you to dance that night. He drank a few beers and smoked more than a few cigarettes as you forced yourself onto the dancefloor three additional times before you and the youngest of your companions decided to call it a night. Eugene felt that was a sensible idea – the number of buses back to Aldbourne was growing increasingly limited by the hour.

As dictated by the blackout, clumps of people were walking on either side of the road with their flashlights pointed downward, barely lighting their way as vehicles with their headlights reduced to mere slits wended their way through the crowd of inebriated celebrants. Eugene could not help but feel like it was a recipe for disaster, but your laughter, like the peal of bells, pulled his attention from across the darkened street.

“It’s snowing!” You declared with a wonder-filled gasp, and he blinked up at the sky to feel the kiss of melting snowflakes on his cheeks, his breath curling and hanging in the notably colder air.

The peace of the moment was shattered as an unruly group of men from Fox company bolted across the road, trying to reach the same bus stop he was heading for, a drunken straggler not seeing the delivery van and unfortunately the driver not seeing him either – until it was too late. There was a squealing of tires, a ‘crash’ as the load within the van was displaced, and a sickening ‘crunch’ followed by a wail of pain. Eugene lunged into the street, surprised to find you already kneeling beside the victim as you looked him over.

“What’s your name, trooper?” You were smiling warmly, your colleague hovering behind you nervously as the driver had begun pacing anxiously.

“Robert Boye, Ma’am.” He replied through clenched teeth.

Unlike the calm look on your face, your hands were a flurry of movement, honing in on the compound fracture on the man’s leg, lifting your fingers into the slim beams of light to reveal blood from where the bone had broken through his skin. Eugene was already undoing his belt when you turned to him, and you graced him with a brilliant smile that had his adrenaline-fueled heart skipping a few beats.

“I’m a medic, Ma’am. Tourniquet?”

“On his thigh, please, trooper.” You nodded, shrugging out of your overcoat to drape over Boye. “We’re going to get you to a hospital, alright Robert. Just hold on.” Standing quickly, you walked over to the delivery driver though Eugene wasn’t able to hear your conversation as he finished checking over the man in the road, confirming there were no other apparent injuries.

“You’e from Fox company, righ’?”

“Yeah, that’s right…Easy?” He replied, shaking from the cold or shock – or both, most likely.

Eugene nodded in reply, lifting his eyes as the delivery driver raised his voice at you, the sound of crates and empty milk jugs hitting the sidewalk filling the night air.

“Ya crazy Yankee cunt, what in god’s name d’ya think yer doin’?!”

By then quite a crowd had gathered in the road, and the slur hurled your way had more than just Eugene’s hackles up. Undeterred, you stepped forward, looking the rude and careless man directly in the eye. “You’ve struck an innocent pedestrian and now you’re going to make it right, sir. Your cargo will be right where you left it.”

He returned the look coldly but seemed increasingly aware of the looming threat in the darkness about you, eventually huffing in agreement. You provided directions to a hospital Eugene recognized as the nearest American hospital, surely that was where you were stationed, before sending several men to help him load Boye into the back.

“Medic, please come with me?” You looked to him as you climbed into the van and Eugene nodded quickly, jumping into the back with you as you looked to the wide-eyed young woman standing at the curb, watching you in awe.

“Barbara, go back inside and find Fran. Get her to walk you home.”

“Y..yes Ma’am!” She nodded quickly before hurrying back toward the dance hall as the back doors of the van were closed, leaving the three of you in darkness as the van lurched into motion.

“Medic…” You huffed and introduced yourself properly before asking him his name.

“Eugene Roe, Ma’am.” He replied quickly, turning on his flashlight. He was rewarded once again with one of your heart-stopping smiles.

“Wonderful, you have a flashlight. Thank you. How’re you holding up Robert?” You turned your attention back to the patient, checking his pulse at his wrist, pressing a hand to his forehead – most likely to assess for temperature and perspiration.

“Hurts an awful lot, Ma’am.” He grunted as the van hit a rut and you nodded sympathetically, kneeling on the floor beside him in your dress uniform, balancing easily as the van wove its way through the crowd outside the dancehall with more care this time.

“Thank you very much for being so brave for me. Where are you from?”

“Yakima, Washington.”

“Tell me, Robert. If I were to visit Yakima, Washington what is the food I absolutely must try?” You asked, bracing yourself against the roof as the driver took a wide turn.

“My momma’s cherry pie, without a doubt. My father grows bing cherries. Best in the state. And then my momma makes the best pie you will ever eat in your life.” Robert replied with relaxed smile, conversation taking his mind off the pain in his leg.

“Cherry pie – that sounds positively heavenly. So, you grew up on a cherry farm?” Your practiced smile and encouragement prompted the injured man to ramble on about his childhood playing amongst the cherry blossoms, gorging himself on ripe fruit, and skiing in the mountains whilst you the pair of you subtly kept an eye on his wound and vitals. Ever vigilant for a sudden change in demeanour that might signify a head injury or internal bleeding – your patient management was effortless, and Eugene could only feel his affection for you growing.

He was admittedly a little disappointed when the van came to a stop, the flustered driver opening the doors as a duty nurse came outside and gasped to find the three of you in the back of the unassuming vehicle.

“I’ll be right back with a stretcher!” She called out before dashing inside, returning promptly with two orderlies to help load the injured Boye so he might be carted inside.

The pair of you rushed behind into the temporary hospital in a building that looked like it had begun its life as a warehouse of some kind. The shift Doctor appeared from down the hall, and you quickly provided all pertinent information related to treatment.

“Well, you two had best inform the MPs as well, before that driver disappears on us.”

“Yes, sir.” You replied quickly, shooting Eugene an apologetic look before leading him to the MP office at the front of the hospital to make your report, pulling your garrison cap from your head, reminding him to do the same.

You’d barely started your tale when the MP told you both to ‘take a seat’ and dashed out of the office to try and stop the driver and you looked to him with even more pronounced regret. “I’m so sorry, Roe, I’m sure you were just trying to get back to your billet.”

Your use of his last name undoubtedly came from place of professional courtesy, however a part of him ached with the longing to hear how your mouth might form his first name.

“Not at all, Ma’am.” He gestured for you to take one of the empty chairs, only sitting once you had sunk into it with a soft sigh.

“Thank you very much for your help. I was feeling quite adrift with no supplies but then the universe sent me you.” You smiled warmly and he swallowed thickly.

“Ya did all tha work, Ma’am, I was jus’ there.”

Shaking your head stubbornly, he frowned a little as he watched a small shiver roll through you, belatedly realizing your coat had long since vanished with Boye. He started to pull at the jacket of his dress uniform, and you lay a hand on his arm.

“I’m alright, just tired. Based on your accent, I’d say you need your jacket more than me.” You smiled teasingly and he huffed a laugh, looking down at his shoes briefly as he straightened his uniform before lifting his eyes to meet yours quickly.

“It was impressive, Ma’am, how ya stood up ta tha’ man.”

You looked to him earnestly then, not sugar-coating your expression, or your answer, as you had for Barbara. “If we don’t stand up for our patients, Roe, no one will.” You spoke with breathtaking sincerity and all he could muster in response was a firm nod.

The door banged open as the MP hauled the very man in question into the office, his expression going livid as he once again came face to face with you.

“Goddamn Yankee cunt.” He spat at you, making Eugene surge to his feet to stand in front of you protectively, the scent of liquor potent on the man’s breath as he brushed by his rigid frame.

“I’ll be right back to take your statements, one moment.” The MP muttered, putting the uncooperative driver in a back room.

“Could this night get any longer…” You whispered and pinched the bridge of your nose, making Eugene turn back to you.

“How long ya been in England?” He asked, trying your own trick of distraction on you as he resumed his seat.

“Hmm? Oh, landed two weeks ago, I guess. Thought a break from the heat would be nice, hasn’t been quite as quaint as I was led to believe.” You laughed softly and shook your head. “You?”

“Las’ Septembah.”

“Well, I bet you know all the best spots by now then, hmm?” You smirked and he shook his head with rueful smile but did not have the chance to elaborate on his lack of free time as the MP returned to finally take your full statements.

It was nearly two in the morning once all the paperwork was done, the driver of the van turned over to the local police while the MP summoned a subordinate to return the pair of you to your billets.

“See you in a few hours.” The nurse who’d first greeted the pair of you poked her head out of the doorway to the treatment room.

You laughed without much energy. “For sure, Betty. Thanks for your help.”

“You work weekends?” Roe asked quietly, offering a hand to help you into the back of the jeep and you nodded as he settled next to you.

“My days off are Monday, Tuesday.” He must have frowned visibly as you shrugged with a weary smile. “It’s alright, I was the last to arrive here and someone needs to do it.”

As you hugged your arms around yourself tightly in the open back of the vehicle, overcoat still nowhere to be seen, he shifted to try and block the wind with his body. As you shuffled closer, huddling against him slightly, he swallowed thickly, his heart hammering against his ribs.

“You’re going to do great out there, Eugene Roe.” You smiled warmly, the vehicle pulling up outside a nearby shop with an apartment on the second floor.

“Thank ya, Ma’am.” He murmured quietly, taking a shaky breath as you climbed out of the jeep, pausing to wave at him from the curb.

He ought to ask to see you again, to write to you, something, but a part of him was reluctant to start anything he might not be able to see through with his future so very uncertain. He lifted his hand in return as the MP pulled out to drive him back to Aldbourne, regret immediately settling into his gut, leaving a sour aftertaste in his mouth.

Eugene was surprised when his belt arrived at his billet the following Thursday along with a note from you, once again thanking him for his assistance with Robert Boye’s care. You also assured him the patient was doing well and would be ‘fighting fit’ within a few months. He was impressed to see not a trace of blood on the woven fabric, indicating that you had obviously taken the time to clean it for him. Unable to stop the fond smile from unfurling on his features, he quickly hid the note in the pocket of his ODs as he heard Spina’s footsteps on the stairs.

“You coming to London this weekend, Gene?” He asked, sitting heavily on his bed in the corner and Eugene found himself shaking his head in return.

“Too much to do.” He replied vaguely, recalling one of the posters from the hospital hallway calling for blood donations.

“You’re missing out.” Spina teased in a sing-song voice, laying back on his bed once he’d taken off his boots.

The smile you greeted him with Saturday morning when he arrived to donate blood thoroughly convinced him otherwise.

“That’s very generous of you Roe, follow me, I’ll get you set up.” You turned to lead him past a few of the occupied beds and he nodded warmly to Boye as he looked up from a letter he was reading. “If you could take off your jacket and roll up your sleeve please, I’ll be right back with the supplies.” You said as you gestured to a cot, unfolding a privacy screen before turning to fetch the necessities.

Eugene complied, swallowing thickly as he watched the way your hospital dress swished around your hips as you walked away, quite frankly preferring this outfit to your dress uniform. Returning with a collection bottle, needle, and some tubing, you lifted his arm to search for a vein. He swallowed thickly at the goosebumps that rippled across his skin, able to smell the scent of soap lingering on you, the proximity nearly killing him.

“I never did ask, Roe, where are you from?” You glanced at him with your professional smile, fingers settling over their target in the inside of his elbow.

“Loosiana, Ma’am.” He murmured softly, watching you insert the needle so smoothly he barely felt more than a pinch before his blood began to fill the bottle in your hands.

“Louisiana.” You repeated warmly, eyes flicking between the bottle and his face, listening while monitoring the volume you were collecting. “Famous for Mardi Gras, yes?”

He nodded quickly. “Tha’s righ’, yes.”

“A lot warmer than England, hmm?” You chuckled and shook your head.

“Did ya get you’ jacket back?” He tilted his head. “Thank ya fo’ returnin’ ma belt.”

“I did, yes. And again, it was the least I could do.” Your eyes crinkled at the corners as you smiled this time, his heart swelling as he was becoming more skilled at discerning your real versus polite expressions. You pressed a piece of gauze over the needle before pulling it from his arm, the bottle now filled with the crimson fluid from his veins. “Could you apply pressure to that for me please?”

He nodded, fingertips brushing against yours as he took over, a jolt of electricity sizzling through him. Your eyes met his briefly before you turned back to the task at hand, and he could not help but wonder if you had felt it too. As you lay your fingers over his to lift the gauze and take a peek at the puncture in his skin, Eugene bit the inside of his cheek trying to maintain his composure. Replacing it with an adhesive bandage, you handed him a cookie to eat as you jotted down his information on the label on the bottle.

“Thank you aga–” Your gratitude was cut short by a loud crash over by the nurses’ station that had Eugene quickly on his feet though he noticed you barely reacted. “Sorry about that.” You sighed and urged him to sit back down with the gentle pressure of your palm on his shoulder. “I keep trying to fix that darn shelf, but the screws won’t stay in the wall.”

“Sorry!” Called a timid voice Eugene recognized as Barbara from last Friday’s dance and he looked up to you.

“I’d be happy ta take a look at it fo’ ya.”

You eyed him a moment, clearly weighing your desire to impose on him further. “Eat your cookie and then we’ll talk.” You ultimately said and he nearly inhaled the thing.

“I like fixin’ things.” He murmured once he’d swallowed, rolling down his sleeve and following you over to inspect the carnage Barbara had unleashed.

You helped her stack the last of the clipboards and manuals that were scattered across the floor onto the edge of the desk as Eugene looked over the shelf before eyeing the screws and finally the holes in the wall.

“You’ screws are stripped. Needs some new ones an’ maybe a few anchors.” He added as he eyed the weight of what you intended to store up there.

You worried your lip between your teeth for a moment before grabbing a key from the desk. “Maintenance room is this way, shall we see if they have what we need?”

He followed you down the hall and around the corner to a room that was no more than a glorified cupboard. You pulled the cord on the lightbulb dangling from the ceiling and he began rooting around, collecting tools in an empty toolbox before nodding to you to signal that he’d secured everything necessary.

“Don’t carry that with the arm I just took blood from please.” You reminded gently and he nodded again, walking back with you. “How can I help?” You tilted your head, nurse’s cap barely hanging on by the pins in your hair, presenting quite possibly the most adorable sight Eugene had ever seen.

“Could you an’ Miss Barbara hold tha shelf up fo’ me, please? Show me where ya’d like it?” He set the toolbox on the ground, grabbing the pencil he’d prepared as the pair of you positioned the shelf on the wall. He made a series of marks beneath it where he would drill new holes and marked the end placements. “Thank ya both, kindly.” He nodded and you set it down with a smile.

The sound of the door opening signalled the arrival of the doctor to do his midday rounds and you glanced at him, looking ready to apologize but he shook his head. “Don’ worry ‘bout me, you’ workin’. I’ll get this fixed an’ get outta you’ hair.”

“Thank you, Roe.” You nodded warmly before grabbing the clipboards from the desk and hurrying over with Barbara in tow.

Eugene did a thorough job of re-installing that shelf for you – putting new holes in the studs with the hand drill before tapping in a set of anchors to ensure it would never let you down again. It may have taken him a little longer than necessary due to the numerous glances he stole at you over his shoulder, but when his eyes met yours around the fifth glance, he turned back to his work quickly, cheeks burning, and did not risk another.

Once he was satisfied in the shelf’s structural stability, he began to place the manuals back onto it, hazarding a guess that you would want them in alphabetical order, glancing at you as you stashed the clipboards – now neatly back in their rack – beside them, rounds clearly complete.

“This looks amazing, Roe, I am once again in your debt.”

“It should hold alrigh’, even if ya get mo’e manuals.” He nodded humbly. “It was ma pleasu’e.”

“Well, I assure you we are extremely grateful.” You nodded firmly and he was unable to stop the slight smile that snuck onto his lips, watching as your own grew brightly in return. “Now I’m sure there’s somewhere you’d much rather spend your days off than our boring little hospital.”

He swallowed tightly, quite convinced that was utterly untrue but was unable to verbally disagree. “I’ll leave ya to it then, Ma’am.” He nodded, putting the tools away before shrugging into his uniform jacket once more and heading out into the drizzly afternoon.

It became a habit, spending his Saturdays at your hospital, fixing up little things that were broken but not priorities for the regular handyman. Donating blood every few weeks when you’d let him. It was, of course, all a thinly veiled excuse to see you – not that he would ever reveal that to you. As winter melted into spring, training and preparation for what was to come only intensified, and the potential outcomes remained at the forefront of his mind. If he were to speak honestly, Eugene, like many men, did not expect to survive the assault on France. Hitler had been there too long, had had too much time to get dug in snug as a tick. What they were planning to attempt was nearly impossible – just like his chances of survival.

You deserved better than that. Better than to open your heart to a man like him, if you even cared to, only to have him wiped from the earth by some piece of artillery or some such horrific ending. Eugene had a sense you’d seen enough horror first-hand in North Africa and he wanted no part in inflicting more upon you. So, he remained cordial, friendly, holding his breath and biting his tongue when your hands would brush, when you’d gently fix his tie after he’d gotten it crooked under the sink and when you’d swipe the sawdust from his shoulders before he put his uniform jacket back on.

The domesticity of your care and concern for him made his heart ache something fierce but he bore it stoically, silently, repeatedly like some kind of martyr. A smarter man might have stayed away but Eugene needed those few hours with you every week as badly as he needed the comforting nicotine of his Lucky Strikes. The news that they were shipping out to Upottery in late May was thus a rude reminder that his time, his life, was no longer his own.

The entire time he was packing, Eugene debated with himself before ultimately deciding to jot off a quick note of apology explaining his absence for that coming weekend and wishing you well until ‘next time.’ What a terrible expression it was. Forcing himself to take it to the post office, he sent it to the hospital where you worked before boarding the transit truck to move out. The days passed in almost a blur, the frenetic pace of preparation and practice jumps all leading up to the inevitable.

Eugene was dressed in full gear, having just secured his leg bag when he heard Vest call out his name, waving a letter addressed to him. Settling back down on the tarmac to open it, his brows furrowed in confusion at the unfamiliar handwriting.

Eugene was so taken aback he nearly missed Meehan’s announcement that the jump was off due to bad weather that night, spending several hours re-reading your letter, thinking about the things he wished to write to you in reply. Vowing to put them on paper if he ever saw the end of this thing. By the time he made it back to Aldbourne in July, he made a visit to the hospital where you had been stationed only to be informed by Barbara that you’d left for France with the 47th Field Hospital five days earlier.

He swallowed his bitter chuckle while Barbara kindly scrawled your post address now that you were deployed. “If you’d like to write to her.” She murmured timidly and he took it with a soft thanks before heading back to his billet.

It made perfect sense that you had been sent to France; nurses with field experience were hard to come by and you were obviously too talented to loiter in England. Thus, he had taken the time to reply to you, a proper letter this time, though still withholding his true feelings now that his eyes were well and truly opened to the rapidity with which a man’s fortunes could change.

Mail was slow, your replies taking a frustrating amount of time to reach him, and Eugene was certain you felt the same, especially as it became increasingly apparent that your paths through Europe were remarkably similar and yet did not cross again. Not until Easter Sunday of 1945.

2nd Battalion had left Belgium that morning, crossing the border into Germany in the grey light of dawn. It had been deeply unsettling to pass so close by their former positions in Bastogne, Foy, and Rachamps the day before. Memories, thick as winter fog, had put a damper on the mood of excitement amongst the men at being on the move again, a hush that persisted into the morning. It was a quiet that allowed them all to hear the frantic honking of a jeep horn, many of them, including Eugene, sitting higher in their transports to see a vehicle painted with the Geneva cross pull up beside that occupied by Winters, Nixon, Speirs and Welsh, bringing the entire convoy to a halt.

Craning his neck, Eugene strained to hear the conversation, but his attempts were futile as they were simply too far away. His brow furrowed as the rest of the batallion’s Lieutenants were called up by Speirs, a map was then unfurled on the hood of the jeep, intense conversation occurring amongst the huddled officers. Like some kind of silent movie without the title cards.

“What the hell do you think that’s all about?” Heffron griped beside him, and Eugene shook his head, completely at a loss.

It wasn’t until Lipton returned to the back of their transport, hauled up with the assistance of Luz’s friendly hand, that Eugene understood the gravity of the situation.

“Hospital convoy has gone missing, boys. Left Aachen over four hours ago and should have arrived in Juchen by now. There’s no trace of them.” He began putting on his gear, a silent signal for everyone to do the same.

“Nobody just vanishes in Germany, Lieutenant.” Heffron muttered grimly, securing his webbing.

“Major Winters’ thoughts exactly. We have eleven nurses and four ambulances unaccounted for somewhere between here and Juchen. So, we’re going to find ‘em.”

“What hospital, sir?” Eugene piped up as he secured his satchel around his body, the men glancing at him, reminding him that he rarely spoke.

“Uh, the 47th Field Hospital I think, Doc.” Lipton replied before getting the men off the truck to begin combing the roadside for clues.

The 47th Field Hospital. Your 47th. He stood rooted to the spot, blind to all that moved in front of him, sound muffled as he felt like the only thing he could be sure of – your safety – came crashing down around him.

“Hey Doc, you coming or what?” Heffron called up to him and Eugene blinked rapidly before hopping out of the back of the transport to follow quickly.

Eleven nurses missing. Field Hospitals had roughly eighteen nurses, if fully staffed, meaning there was more than a fifty-fifty chance you were among the missing. He shoved his balled fists into his pockets and began searching. Searching for what, he had no idea. The infuriating feeling of helplessness rose within him like the tide, relentless and uncontrollable.

It took a further three hours of driving, stopping, searching, until finally a farmer reported having heard machine gun fire earlier that morning near Titz. A yawning pit of dread opened deep within his stomach as all manner of possible scenarios played out in his mind. The three companies split up then, with Easy heading into the town of Titz while Dog continued on the road to Juchen and Fox turned towards Gevelsdorf.

He was not able to lay eyes upon you for another two hours, and to find you soaked in blood had sent him immediately into a frenzied state of triage, desperate to keep you alive after finding you at last. Calmed only by the proof that you were unhurt, at the reasonable explanation for the state of your clothes lying dead behind him, Eugene had never been more annoyed with Webster and Liebgott than when they had interrupted his chance to speak with you.

The rest of 2nd Battalion arrived, taking over the building for the night and securing the prisoners until MPs could arrive the next day to take them to a nearby prison camp. Winters had ensured a wing was reserved exclusively for the nurses, though you had assured him a guard would not be necessary. Eugene had offered himself and the other Battalion medics to help with the schedule you were drawing up to watch over the patients, but you politely refused, insisting he had done enough. Eugene certainly did not feel that way.

Finding himself unable to sleep that night, he slipped out of the room he shared with Spina, Heffron, and Ramirez, making his way down to the makeshift treatment space you had set up to see if he could be of any use. He stopped at top of the stairs as he nearly ran into you, making your way up to the nurses’ wing with your wet field jacket in your hands.

“Roe!” You breathed, startled, before smiling at him tiredly. “Can’t sleep?”

He shook his head. “Ya neithah?”

“Wanted to try and get this somewhat clean for tomorrow.” You murmured, gesturing to your jacket before glancing at him. “But no, not really.” You admitted softly.

He motioned with his head for you to follow him to sit on the ledge beneath a large bay window opposite the staircase. You draped your damp jacket over the back of a wooden chair that had seen better days, turning to look out over the landscape as raindrops began to patter against the glass. He slid a cigarette from the pack in his breast pocket, offering it you and only once you had declined with a shake of your head and kind smile, lit it for himself.

“Nine hours isn’t a long time considering the years I’ve spent away from home.” Your hushed voice, a continuation of your conversation from hours previous, broke through the sound of the rain hitting the windowpane.

Eugene exhaled slowly, smoke curling from his lips. “It only takes seconds ta die…”

You eyed him sharply in the dim light, shaking your head. “You of all people know how little control we have over that.”

Swallowing tightly, as you did have a point, he nodded. “Sorry Ma’am.”

You huffed a little. “Eugene, every time you call me Ma’am I feel like my mother.”

“But ya outrank me, even mo’e so now 1st Lieutenan’.” His nose crinkled in confusion.

You hummed noncommittally, an uneasy silence falling over the pair of you as Eugene finished his cigarette, stubbing it out against the windowsill behind him. Neither of you seemed certain of what to say or do next. Of what you were anymore – no longer just acquaintances, colleagues, or pen pals. Despite his best efforts, Eugene was terrifyingly convinced you were a great deal more.

“What’s something you wish you had done before you came over here?” Your voice broke through his thoughts, and he inhaled sharply before giving you his answer without hesitation.

“Shoulda asked ya ta dance tha’ nigh’.”

He heard your breath leave your lips with a shudder, watching you stand with the sinking feeling that he’d misjudged the entirety of your relationship. It was only when you turned back to him with your hand outstretched that he remembered how to breathe.

“Dance with me now, Eugene.”

His eyes widened, confusion surely evident on his face even as he set his worn and battered hand in yours. “But there’s no music.”

Your fingers closed around his, tugging him to his feet as you began to hum that Vera Lynn song, bringing a smile to his face as he set his other hand on your waist to begin dancing with you in earnest. Your fingers laced through his, a shiver running through him as you wrapped your arm around his shoulder before laying your head against his collarbone.

“Cold?” You whispered and he shook his head.

“It’s nice.” He replied as you started humming again, the repetitive nature of the song making him grin slightly. “Finally got ta dance in you’ comba’ boots.” He murmured, discreetly inhaling the scent of you.

You giggled softly against him, leaning back to look over his features in the low light. “Why didn’t you ask me to dance, Eugene?”

He swallowed roughly. “Ya looked tired, Ma’am. Didn’t want ta make ya suffah any mo’e.”

“Dancing with you is not a hardship.” You whispered, the pair of you still moving to the ghost of the song in the now silent hallway. “I would have said yes with one of those smiles you like.”

He laugh softly, squeezing your hand slightly. “I was worried, too. Worried I’d do somethin’ stupid like make ya care ‘bout me an’ then get myself killed. But then I thought I’d lost ya today…did lose ya fo’ nine hou’s…” His throat clenched with emotion, sealing off his ability to say anything further.

Your feet came to a stop as you eyed him intensely. “Eugene Roe, you have no control over that either.” You admonished gently. “I do care about you, whether you like it or not.”

The sound of his heart frantically pumping blood through his body filled his ears as he stared at you in wonder, awestruck by your fierce determination to bear affection for him despite the risks.

“M..may I…” He struggled to speak through the overwhelming adoration he felt for you, and you sighed fondly, leaning in to press your lips to his.

His grip tightened on your waist as his eyes fluttered shut, your soft mouth feeling like the finest silk brushing against his. He sighed dreamily as your fingers abandoned his shoulder to wend their way into his hair, drawing him tighter to you. He indulged in the impulse to slide his hand up your spine to rest between your shoulder blades, the feeling of your back arching in response headier than any liquor he’d ever tasted.

Your fingers gently unlaced from his, hand shifting to cup his jaw as you pulled back to press featherlight kisses across his brow and down his nose. “You didn’t lose me, Eugene.” You sighed against his skin, lips traveling across his left cheek. “I’m just fine.”

As you made your way along his jaw, he turned his head to kiss you fiercely, tongue darting past your startled lips to communicate all the things he could not seem to be able to say, holding your body so tightly against his as though he wished he could absorb you into his very being. You clung to him, matching the ferocity of his embrace with a reassuring tenderness of your own that had him melting against you, face burrowing against your neck.

“Thank ya, Ma’am.” He sighed with a bone deep weariness and felt your body shake against his as you laughed softly.

“Call me something better, Eugene.” You chided sweetly, kissing his temple. “Especially if you’re going to kiss me like that.”

He smirked before pressing his lips to the column of your throat, trailing kisses up towards your jaw, reveling in the way your breath hitched in your throat in response. “Alrigh’ cher.” He smiled warmly before kissing you gently.

“Cher.” You repeated softly once he released your lips.

“Cajun for darlin’.”

He watched your teeth sink into your lower lip, a grin stretching over your face as you looked to him through your lashes making the muscles of his abdomen clench.

“That will do quite nicely, Eugene.” You sighed before your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him in to kiss him deeply.

You were both short of breath by the time you pulled back, hand caressing his face as your features contracted apologetically. “I should go before someone finds us.”

Eugene nodded begrudgingly as you were once again speaking the truth. “Goodnigh’, cher.” He said softly, loosening his hold on you.

“We’ll met again, Eugene.” You smiled, eyes twinkling with mirth in the not-so-dark hallway as the light of pre-dawn began to seep through the tracks of rain cascading down the window, and his eyes widened as he realized that was the name of that damn song.

“You’d bettah not be covered in blood nex’ time, cher.” He admonished playfully, freshly addicted to the way your lips ticked up at the corners every time he said it.

“Likewise, Eugene.” You laughed and blew him a kiss before grabbing your surely still-damp field jacket, walking backwards as far as you could until you absolutely had to turn around.

He stood on the porch the next morning, hiding from the rain as he watched you load the nurses in your charge into newly arrived ambulances to complete your journey to the field hospital in Juchen. He barely looked up as he heard the scuff of jump boots on the worn brick beside him, Heffron leaning against the wall to light a cigarette, trying to soak in every last moment of your presence before you were inevitably parted once again. It was a great comfort to know you’d be just twenty-five kilometres behind him, perhaps a sign of kinder times ahead.

“So, you get your hands on some tits in Titz?” Heffron asked with a sly grin, making Eugene turn to him sharply.

“Heffron, watch you’ damn mouth.” He snapped at him brusquely, making the redhead’s eyes widen.

“Sheesh, Doc, she must be somethin’ special. Sorry.” He squawked and pointed at the road. “She’s looking this way.”

Eugene looked back quickly to see you, drenched by rain, waving at him with a bright smile he could still see despite your helmet, and he waved back, cheeks aching a little as his expression automatically mirrored yours.

“You’d bettah keep this to you’self, Heffron.” Eugene rounded on him with a serious look that he hoped was intimidating as soon as you pulled the backdoor of the vehicle shut behind you.

“Your secret is safe with me, lover boy.” Heffron winked, and Eugene did not believe him for a second.

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

Read the Sequel - Born To Be Yours

Band of Brothers Masterlist

Tag list: @bcon24 , @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos

#eugene roe x reader #eugene roe imagines #eugene roe imagine #eugene roe #doc roe #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers

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bellewintersroe · 13 days

Note

I DO HAVE A BOB REQ👀 it's heavy angst mixed with a comforting ending, but how would they react (whenever u want but in my faves are Liebgott and Roe) to them thinking their s/o (nurse maybe?) somehow died while saving someone or similar, but actually she managed to escape and run and she reconnects with the battalion a few days later? all battered and bruised but still alive EVEN BETTER IF SHE TAKES TO SAFETY THE PERSON SHE WAS HELPING because imagining them seeing their girl that they thought was dead coming back quite literally from hell alive is AGH💘

I LOVEEEE THIS!!! Thank you Anon I’m excited to write this <3 <3

Warning: mentions of death, grief, war, wounds, etc.

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

Gene Roe:

- Gene knew (thinks) you were in the church as soon as he watched the bomb explode.

- He kinda freezes and he literally feels his insides running cold and a sickness go through him.

- Can’t be real, I can’t express the level of trauma, pure horror and devastation he feels in that moment. It doesn’t end, the whole time he fully thinks you’re gone. It doesn’t help that the rest of the company are questioning him and going through their own grief for your loss.

- He wants to escape it as much as possible but he knows he can’t. He feels like a statue, completely glued to his foxhole, he runs on autopilot and Winters is about to send him off the line.

- I feel like Gene would have a pretty bad breakdown (understandable) when he’s by himself so he’s not showing the full affects of what he believes is your loss.

- doesn’t help he has absolutely NO answers. He plays the moment over and over again, torturing himself by picturing your last moments, imagining himself being just an hour earlier and getting you out of that church.

- Gene even wished he was with you when that damn bomb went off.

- 3 days pass and Gene’s sat in his foxhole, alone, staring at the enemy line. He’s near enough given up, no gloves, no blanket, he can’t eat, cant sleep.

- “Doc, Captain Winters needs you, pronto.”

- He literally feels like a zombie walking to where he’s needed. All he can think of is you, it’s painful, he can literally feel his chest yearning and breaking and his grief is too much.

- “Yeah we found her running around with the I-company boys, got a little lost, didn’t ya’ nurse?” A man’s words cause Gene’s ears to prick. He can’t see anything but a taller man facing Winters and Nixon with a smaller figure, blanket huddled over- you.

- Ugh- feels like his hearts about to explode. Literally freezes and thinks he’s going to be sick. His heart accelerates and when he hears your voice he quite literally feels faint.

- “got caught up with a patient there!” You turn around, sending a presence and both of you feel the intense hit of shock to be confronted with one another again. “Excuse me a minute…”

- All of a sudden you’re limping towards Gene. Your forehead is covered with 2 butterfly plasters and you have a nasty bruise under your right eye. Gene thinks he’s seen a ghost.

- Probably hesitates for a moment before you pull him aside, away from where the other men can see. “Gene.” You’d soothe and he’d let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

- Crashes into you. Literally grips you so tightly, he feels like he can’t breathe, his eyes are teary and it’s not until you let out a small yelp that he pulls back.

- “It’s okay, it’s fine Gene, it’s just a bruise.” Hearing your voice sends him into a spiral and he’s even more careful now to pull you close.

- Holds a hand to the back of your head, practically cradles you with wide eyes.

- “I thought- I thought you was dead.” He admitted.

- “No, I got caught up with a patient. After the church got bombed I managed to pull a patient out, Billy from I company- got lost on their lines for a few days, they took me in.”

- Soon enough he’s stammering with quivering hands, checking over you, asking if you’re okay. Winters had called a medic after all.

- Can’t stop looking at you, questioning if it’s all a dream, you’d catch him pinching himself. “Don’t do that Gene, I’m right here.” With a small hand on his cheek he can breathe again.

- Holds your hands tightly, the most affection he can show you in front of all the superiors. He’s still extremely tense, in shock from the close call, but he promises to keep an extra close eye on you, and he keeps that promise.

- Kisses your cuts and bruises when nobody’s looking, probably runs his hand over his face in surprise quite a few times, but honestly he’s sooo fucking relieved, like he actually cried when he saw you.

- “I love you so much, ya can’t do that to me again, evuh’.” With his little accent and a serious tone, ugh he’s a sweetie pie.

Joseph Liebgott:

- It happens in Eindhoven out of all the places.

- One minute you’re both celebrating together, with the rest of the company and the whole town and the next you’re not stationed with the rest of the nurses?

- The town gets bombed and barraged by the Germans that evening and he’s watching in pure horror. Recounts of nurses being KIA during the bombing spread real fast, and he refuses to believe what Battalion HQ are telling him.

- He’s shaking his head real fucking fast, denying and denying to all of them and himself.

- Throws a fucking riot- until he has to practically run off to be alone, wrenching and shaking at the idea that have could’ve happened to you.

- His anger and violence stems out of control, Winters removes him off the line real fucking fast, like he becomes a runner or something just for a break.

- Fraternisation is banned under all conditions, but relationships and affairs still take place, even the most superior of officers know that. So sometimes eyes are averted and now is one of those times that people choose to do that and help Liebgott through his grief.

- But 2 days have passed and it’s so raw, everybody’s in shock and disbelief at your lack of presence, for Joe he’s bottling up a painfully bitter feeling and he’s ready to explode.

- He never thought it would happen to you, you’re a nurse for Christ sake! Genuinely has to pause sometimes to just stop- like he can’t take it. Becomes so close to being sent to the aid station until one today he’s attempting to run a letter back to Battallion HQ when he see’s the back of a young woman wrapped in a blazer, overalls looking very familiar to your own.

- His heart genuinely gets shooting pains and he has to swallow the urge to cry as he watches this woman who painfully resembles you. Her khaki headscarf is bloody and he watches as another officer (he assumed from Dog) guides you inside the building.

- In fact he’s about to look away, until this girls head tilt to the side. He only catches a brief glimpse of her profile, Joe has to squint real hard when he feels his stomach drop.

- His mind has to be playing tricks on him so he turns away as the nurse rushes to aid a man on a stretcher.

- Slams the jeep door, literally kicks a dint into it as he storms his way through town. He just wants to deliver these fucking letters as fast as possible.

- “No, no, he’s German. He helped me out of Eindhoven, you must take care of him!”

- Joe’s head snaps just as he’s shoving the letters into some poor guys arms. He freezes, head lifting at the sound of your voice.

- “What the fuck?” He mutters, stepping a little closer. His breathing and heart speeds when he hears your voice again.

- “Sister. Make sure he gets to the infirmary, please… thank you.”

- He’d recognise that voice from anywhere.

- Literally feels like he’s choking when he stomps over, lost for words and breath and grabs hold of your arm.

- With a gasp, you stand there, bloody and bruised and protecting some Kraut soldier.

- You’re about to protest again until you come face to face with Joe, and suddenly your voice gets hitched in your throat, a loud gasp escaping your lips.

- “Joe!” It’s you that jumps into hug him first.

- Joe grips you tightly, “what the hell are you- what the hell are you doin’ here? Baby- y/n, I thought you were dead.”

- He has to pull back and hold your face to take a look at you and make sure it’s actually you.

- You can feel him shaking, and suddenly your attention is just on Joe and Joe only. He’s practically smothering you, not sure where to put his hands as he lets out a shaky breath.

- “Holy fuck I thought I lost you. They said you were gone. I knew you wouldn’t, I knew you wouldn’t leave me.” He gets super emotional so you two have to take a break somewhere real quick.

- By that I mean in the aid station where you’re supposed to be being patched up but Joe does that for the medic.

- “God dammit you are so stupid, you idiot, I thought I lost you.”

- “The German officer saved me Joe, he pulled me outta the rubble.”

- “he what?! Did he touch you, are you ok?”

- “He’s a nice man, Joe. I wouldn’t be here without him. He’s hurt so I got a little lost taking him back to the infirmary.”

- “nice guy? Baby d’ya got a concussion?”

- you scold him a little and soon he’s back to stroking your face and pulling you onto his lap, taking in as much as you as he possibly can.

- “Never leave me baby. Never leave me like that again.”

#band of brothers headcannons #band of brothers x reader #joe liebgott x reader #band of brothers imagines #eugene roe x reader

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joenotexotic99 · 4 months

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Hey! I love your work so much! Like your writing is actually beautiful! Anyway, I was wondering if you could do some of the Easy Boys if you were to tell them your pregnant? If not that’s totally ok, I completely get it. I just thought it would be kinda cute lol. I was wondering if you could include Bull, Lieb, Gene, and Winters along with whoever you want bc let’s be honest, I’m in love with them all.

A/n hope you liked this anon! <3

Warnings, so much fluff, slight language, probably needs a spell check.

Bull Randleman

You weren't sure of how he'd react, sure you loved each other but you never got to the point of whether or not you were having kids. When you did tell him his face stayed neutral, you almost thought that he was upset at first until a huge grin displayed across his face. He took you into his arms and gave you the biggest hug. He rubbed your back and kissed the top of your head, holding you close. He then let go to kiss your stomach. Telling his future kid that he loves them. When he looked back at you he had the most genuine smile.

“son of a bitch, I'm going to be a father”

“Damn right your are”

Joseph Leibgott

You just made this man stop completely in his tracks, you knew how bad he wanted a family so as soon as you found out you were expecting, you went running to tell him. He had the biggest holy shit face. He immediately ran to you and scooped you up. He started to ramble, thanking you and telling you how much he loves you and how happy and excited he is. He then gives you the sweetest kiss. The whole day he sported the biggest smile, if anyone asked why so joyfully he proudly told them that he was going to be a father. If this was a modern au I would totally see him calling you a milf, respectfully

“holy shit I love you so much, you're amazing you know that? I'm gonna be a dad, jesus”

“The best”

Eugene roe

Like bull you haven't discussed the possibility of having kids. You had no idea what to expect telling him the news. You honestly expected the worst. But all that fear washed away immediately when you saw the excitement in his eyes and the wide smile on his face. He asked you if this is what you want and when you nodded with yes he went straight to hug you. Gene would be so caring with you. I honestly think that he would find trinkets and toys to give you his kid when he's old enough. Will be such a great dad.

“Are you sure we're ready for this”

“Probably not but one things for sure is you are going to be a great mom”

Richard winters

you wanted kids and so did winters, you've talked and discussed it before, even going as far as telling what names you liked and disliked. But it was always something you said you would do later in life, so it came as a surprise when you found out you were pregnant so soon. Telling him was exciting and nauseating at the same time. It took him a second to register what you meant, but he was more than excited. Starting a family has been something he's always wanted and now it's a dream come true. He rapped you in your arms telling you how happy he gets to do this with you.

“I love you, you know that?”

“More than you know”

Ronald Speirs

Honestly children were never really in the question. When you and Speirs talked about your future you would talk about beaches and vacations and buying a big house. Never kids. So you were rightfully terrified to find out you were pregnant. You had no idea if Speirs ever wanted kids. When you told him you half expected for him to walk away. It took at least ten seconds for him to make any face acknowledging to you his feelings. That's when he hugged you. When he pulled away he had tears in his eyes and a smile on his face.

“were having a kid?”

“We are”

“I love you”

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers headcanon #band of brothers x reader #bull randleman #bull randleman x reader #joseph liebgott #joseph liebgott x reader #eugene roe #eugene roe x reader #dick winters #richard winters x reader #ronald speirs #ron speirs x reader #request

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footprintsinthesxnd · 2 months

Text

Thank God for Eugene Roe

This request was from a lovely anon. It’s been sat in my inbox for a little while so I’m sorry it’s taken so long but it’s finally here now. Hope you enjoy. Warnings: mentions of injury, swearing, death, themes of war.

Eugene wasn’t sure what order the events of the day went in. Everything became a blur after a while and all he could see was the crimson blood covering his pale hands. It all began when Skinny Sisk had been hit earlier that morning and Eugene accompanied him to the aid station in Bastogne. The aid station had been crowded and he spent a good portion of the morning there, not returning until later that day, and leaving Spinna in charge. Easy Company. They were in good hands, no patrols were scheduled, and the bombardment from the morning had died down. It was a relatively quiet day, maybe too quiet.

No one looked up at Eugene as he hopped off the jeep, trudging his way through the snow to where Spinna was standing, arms crossed, his chin buried deep into his scarf, moving from foot to foot to stay warm. The priest had just finished his blessing and began gathering up the white sheet he’d laid across the bonnet of the jeep.

“What’s the word?” Eugene balanced the boots he’d collected for Joe Toye on top of the box of supplies Renée had kindly found for him.

Spinna glanced at him, “Battalion wants a reconnaissance patrol. Kraut hunting”

“Alright, I'll go. Take these,” Eugene passed the box over to Spinna, who accepted them thankfully, glad he didn’t have to go on the patrol after all. “Give the boots to Joe Toye, tell him they’re a nine.” Spinna nodded at Eugene as he began to jog over toward the other paratroopers who had gathered, waiting for orders.

Eugene hurried towards Sergeant Martin who was talking quietly to Lieutenant Peacock. Johnny’s hand shot out, stopping Eugene in his tracks, “Doc Doc, it’s a combat patrol. Why don’t you stay back and keep your ass out of trouble? Huh?”

Eugene looked a little forlorn, and nodded slowly “Yes Sergeant.” He was surprised they didn’t want a medic on the patrol. Ever since they arrived in Bastogne and the Krauts started their artillery barrages, everyone was crying out for a goddamn medic, day or night.

Stepping back Eugene caught Y/n's eye, she smiled at him softly, giving him a small wave before continuing her conversation with George and Babe. Eugene felt the familiar ache in his chest beginning to grow as it did every time she smiled at him.

His heart always ached when he wasn’t on patrols with her, fearing that the worst would happen before he’d even told her how he truly felt. She was his friend but that’s all he was ever going to be to her, and it hurt, but at least he could help keep her alive.

He crouched down by a tree, ignoring the snow that brushed against his trousers, leaving damp patches where he sat. The cold seemed to keep him awake, alert, and ready for anything that could go wrong. He’d been that way since they came into the Bulge. On edge, waiting for the next move to go wrong. That was the part he hated about being a medic, everyone always needed him in the most dire situations. The rest of the time he merely existed, never getting close to them because, in the next moment, he’d be covered in their blood.

He lit a cigarette, embracing the warm air that filled his lungs, exhaling in a long puff of smoke that drifted upwards towards the light that peaked through the dense tree cover. The snow blew through it extinguishing any heat before it had the chance to warm the air. Bastogne was a place of cold and despair, any hope was soon extinguished, if not by the Krauts then by the weather.

The gunfire signalled the action that Eugene was waiting for.

“Doc, it’s Y/n!”

Eugene found himself frozen in time, his eyes watching his fellow paratroopers rush past him in a blur. George’s mouth was moving as he continued to shout but all Eugene could hear was her name, a silent prayer on his lips. It couldn’t be her, not Y/n.

“Doc! Help her! She’s been shot!” That was all it took for him to be at George’s side, pushing the radioman out of the way and falling beside Y/n, who gave him the same soft smile she had sent him earlier.

“Y/n, ya stay with me now. Dontcha’ even think about dying.” He pressed the bandage firmly against the wound on her side, cursing as the blood flowed straight through his fingers.

“E-Eugene… Gene I…” Y/n gasped, blood spilling out the corner of her mouth as she spluttered helplessly on the ground. Eugene ripped open the syrrette of Morphine, pressing it firmly into the fresh over her collar bone.

“Y/n, don’t say nothin’, ‘kay. Save ya strength. I need ya to stay with me,” Eugene pleaded, his hand shaking as he placed the cannula, securing it with tape quickly and allowing the plasma to flow down the line and into her veins. The morphine was taking effect now too and her speech became slurred as she tried to reach out for Eugene’s hand.

“Eu-gene?” He gripped her hand tightly, placing his lips on her skin. He could feel her shaking beneath his touch, and he couldn’t help the tears that spilt down his frozen cheeks.

“You’re gonna be just fine, Y/n.” Eugene knew deep down he was trying to reassure himself but he was glad when Y/n smiled up at him.

“I’m gonna getcha’ outta here.” With George’s help, they began to drag Y/n along the snow-covered ground, trying to ignore her complaints of pain as the German bullets whipped past their heads. Captain Nixon appeared, shouting over the commotion for them to retreat, but Eugene and George kept on moving, pulling Y/n to safety before they stopped.

Eugene was back at her side in an instant, applying a fresh dressing over the already soiled one, praying that this one would hold.

“Eugene, I need to tell you s…mthing imp-portant. I-I love you, Gene. I-I’ve always l-loved you but I was too s-scared to tell you.”

Eugene’s heart skipped in his chest, feeling lightheaded as he fell over his words. He wanted to tell her he loved her too, to kiss her, to hold her close to his chest and promise her that everything was going to be okay. How could he promise her that? He could only watch as she grew ever paler and the blood seeped through the bandages, turning the snow around them bright red.

“I know,” he replied, brushing his hand over her sweaty forehead, watching as her glazed eyes followed his movements. “It’s gonna be okay, Y/n.” The roar of the jeep pulling up accompanied his words and he made quick work of flagging it down, carrying Y/n over and laying her limp body over the stretcher as she passed out.

The first thing Y/n remembered was the pain, it spread through her body like a searing fire, causing her to cry out. She sat upright in bed with a start, hissing as the sutures pulled at the wound on her abdomen. A pair of hands came to rest on her shoulders, easing her back down in the bed.

Her eyes adjusted to her surroundings, noticing the stone walls and high blue-painted ceiling. She wasn’t in a hospital but beds with wounded men lay all across the room. Women in nurses' uniforms hurried back and forth while medics helped work on the injured men.

There was still a hand resting on her shoulder and she glanced over to see the very worried, Cajun medic starting back at her.

“You gave me quite a scare back there you know. Damn Y/n, do n'tcha do that again,” he leant across, pulling her carefully into a hug which she quickly reciprocated.

“I’m sorry, Gene. I’ll try and be more careful next time,” she assured him, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

Eugene gave her a weak smile and opened his mouth to speak before snapping it closed. She cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting to hear what he wanted to say.

“I don’t know if I should tell you this. I don’t even know if you meant all that you said back there but I just… I just gotta tell you that I feel the same,” he took a deep breath, “I love you too.”

Y/n swallowed hard, had she confessed her feelings to him? She’d managed to hide her feelings for him ever since Toccoa and yet in a moment of weakness she spilled the beans. How many people heard her? Her mind raced with unanswered questions but Eugene’s face only grew more grave.

“I did wonder if you only said it cause you was dying,” he stood up from his chair, collecting his musette bag from the floor. “I’m glad you’re okay, Y/n. I’ll see you when you’re better, yeah?”

“Gene, wait! Do you really mean it? Do you really love me?” Her little outburst had caught the eye of a few of the wounded men around her, all watching with bated breath for the outcome.

“Course I do. I wouldn’t have told to if it won’t true,” he moved closer to her bed once more, moving to cup her cheek but only touching her when she nodded in response to his unasked question. “I love you, Y/n, ever since Toccoa.”

Y/n chuckled, “We’re such fools. We’ve both loved each other since Toccoa but we were too damn scared to say anything. I should have told you sooner.”

“And I shoudda told you sooner too. Guess at least we know now,” Gene reassured her, sitting down again beside her bed.

“That’s true,” she mused, shuffling so she could lean closer to him. “Gene?”

“Yes, Doll?”

“Kiss me.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Eugene sealed his lips to Y/n’s as if they had been kissing each other their whole lives. At least one good thing came from that Kraut bullet and that was Eugene Roe.

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#band of brothers #eugene roe x reader #Eugene roe #band of brothers fic #hbo war

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