#band of brothers fic
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Anything For You
So here is the much awaited part 2 of ‘Good Girl’ for @ronsparky I’m sorry it took so long. Warnings: smut, sexual themes, bondage, swearing, Nixon being his usual self, 18+ fic only. Word count: 2.9k
It had been a few months since Y/n's last interaction with Speirs. It’s not like she was avoiding him, the company had been moved back to Mourmelon for a breather and between trying to relax and drills and training they just hadn’t managed to talk about what happened in Hagenau. They still shared longing looks across rooms and when they were occasionally close enough to touch Ron would reach out and brush his hand against hers.
After two months in Mourmelon, the company moved on to Struzelburg, Germany. The air seemed cleaner, the weather warmer and the general living conditions nicer. Y/n often thought that these comforts were almost like being back at Toccoa or Aldbourne.
She had just come back from collecting some eggs with Frank and George when she bumped into Speirs carrying a large tray of silver utensils through the street.
“You want some help with that Lieutenant?” She laughed, watching his shocked face meet hers and he gulped.
“No, that’s quite alright. I can manage,” he replied gruffly, already turning away from her and in the direction of the battalion post office.
Y/n trailed after him, despite Ron’s continued protests. Inside the post office, Ron placed the silverware on the counter, pulling out two packs of smokes for Private Vest.
“Same address as last time, Sir?” Vest asked, pocketing the packets of cigarettes with a smile.
“Yes,” Speirs replied abruptly, his eyes flicking back to Y/n for a second before turning away.
“Sure thing. I’ll say, Sir, the Y/l/n family will sure have a lot of nice silverware.” Speirs harsh glare cut the private off from saying anything else. Y/n stood in silence watching as Speirs tried to break his icey resolve and turn to her. He mumbled something about being needed at battalion before heading out the door, his head down as he passed Y/n but she couldn’t bring herself to follow him.
“Hey, Sergeant, ain’t Y/l/n your last name?”
“Shut it, Private,” Y/n snapped, spinning around on the spot and hurrying after Ron who had disappeared into the crowd of paratroopers.
Y/n had tried to find him that night but Lipton told her that he was in his room and didn’t want to be disturbed. This act went on for the rest of the month with Ron hiding away and avoiding her. That was until the company was moved on to Berchtesgaden.
Y/n finally found herself with her own room, a hot shower and a warm bed. It was these simple luxuries that Y/n had learned not to take advantage of. The alcohol flowed freely and the boys celebrated. The war in Europe had finally come to an end and despite the continuing war in Japan looming over them, for a moment, just for one night they could celebrate in peace.
Y/n had left the party an hour ago, wandering the halls in a dress she had found in one of the rooms. It was long, flowing out behind her and despite the neckline being a little lower than she would have liked, she wore it in a desperate attempt to reclaim something she had lost. She’d danced with nearly all the men that night, arm in arm with Malarkey, spinning frantically around the floor with George, Bull had taken her for a very sweet slow dance. She felt like a woman again, and the men treated her as though she was something to be admired.
Y/n found her way to the balcony that the officers often frequented, the sun loungers lay along one of the walls with discarded whiskey bottles that almost certainly belonged to Captain Nixon. At this time of night; despite the ruckus downstairs, the air was still and quiet. No wind blew, no birds sang. A dark silence hung over the mountains. Y/n didn’t know whether to find it ominous or peaceful but the silence was soon broken by the heavy footfalls of Ronald Speirs who rounded the corner so quickly that they both jumped in surprise.
“Sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was out here,” Ron confessed, avoiding her gaze and turning to head back the way he’d come.
“Ron, wait! Please. You’ve been avoiding me and we need to talk,” Y/n protested, watching as Ron fought with himself until he finally turned around to face her.
“There’s nothing to talk about. What happened between us never should have happened. We both know that. You’re going to go back home soon enough and I’m planning on staying in the army, and that’s it, either of us make it out of the Pacific anyway.” Ron huffed, slouching against the hard brick wall, glaring at the ground, “we were never gonna make it you and I.”
Y/n felt her heart clench and her lungs felt tight as she tried to find the words to convey how she felt. “You don’t know that Ron. You can’t know that unless you give us a chance.”
“We have no chance Y/n. One day you’ll wake up and realise that I was no good for you so I’m letting you go now before it’s too late. I’ve sent all the silver home to your family. I want to support you even if I can’t be with you.”
“Who says you can’t be with me?” Y/n cried, “Do I not get a say in this.” She moved closer to Ron, her dress trailing along behind her. They were inches apart when she spoke again. “I want this to be my choice Ron, and I choose you.”
Ron surged forward, pressing his lips roughly to hers. His hand gripped desperately at her hips, pulling her flush to him. In that kiss was the sweetest passion she had ever felt. Ron’s lips were soft, the stubble of his chin grazing her face but she didn’t mind the burn. Y/n found herself weaving her fingers into his hair, wrapping one of her legs around his to pull him closer. The kiss spoke volumes, travelling all the unsaid words, the unspoken feelings and desires. Y/n pulled back, brushing her thumb over Ron’s cheek and feeling the damp tears that had fallen. “I want you too,” Ron whispered, his voice cracking and Y/n realised she had never seen him cry before, his stony resolve breaking down and revealing the man beneath who just wanted to be loved.
“Oh Ron,” she whispered, their lips brushing again as she spoke. Ron looked up at her, his eyes misty and his lip quivering as he spoke.
“I’m sorry I’m so weak. I should have told you before,” he mumbled into her neck, burying his face from her view.
“You’re not weak Ron. You are the bravest man in this company. Only the brave become vulnerable emotionally and for you to show me that is braver than any act of the battlefield,” Y/n soothed him, rubbing his back in comforting circles.
Ron pulled away, his eyes becoming dark and stormy once more and a sly smirk spread across his handsome face. “If I remember correctly, you and I have some unfinished business.”
Y/n chuckled, reaching out and placing her hand in his, “I believe we do.”
Ron chuckled and it felt like the most genuine laugh they had ever shared. He scooped her up into his arms, carrying her bridal style along the corridor. She grinned up at him and Ron smiled happily down at her. Y/n now knew what she was missing in life. All those years of thinking she had a missing part and Ron’s smile filled that hole.
The walk to Ron’s room was short, too short really because all too soon Ron was carrying her over the threshold of his room and slamming the door closed with his foot, never once putting her down until he gently laid her on the bed. Ron moved to close the curtains but Y/n called out to him, “No, leave them open. You look beautiful in the moonlight.”
Ron huffed, the smile growing on his lips once more. Y/n felt herself growing warmer, just led on Ron’s bed watching him unbutton his shirt in the moonlight had her heart racing. The curves of the muscles rippling under his toned flesh caused her to whimper and Ron’s head snapped up, dark eyes watching him intensely as he whispered, “Are you going to be a good girl?”
Ron’s lips brushed against her ear lobe, sending shivers down her spine, as he whispered sweet nothings to her. Y/n had lost all coherent language as soon as Ron’s lips met hers. His hands roamed down her sides, ruffling the fabric of the dress and bunching it around her middle.
“Ron,” she pleaded with him but he ignored her, continuing to kiss down her neck while his hand grazed its way up her bare thighs. Her hands fisted in his hair and Ron groaned at the comforting sting of pain and pleasure it gave him. Ron would be lying if he said he hadn’t been dreaming of this moment since Hagenuea, well maybe even before then. The pathetic whimpers falling from Y/n’s mouth had him driven to the brink of insanity.
“Ronny, please,” Y/n begged again and Ron chuckled at this new nickname he’d been given.
“Oh Darling, you’re so needy. Tell me what you want. I’ve barely touched you and you're so desperate already.”
Y/n gasped as Ron’s fingers ran over the edge of her pant line, “Ron, God, please. Please.”
“So impatient, Darling.” Ron tutted, sitting back on his heels and smiling down at her. The distinct bulge in his trousers caused Y/n to groan further. She reached out, massaging the bulge through his trousers and watching as Ron fought back the urge to moan.
“Please Ronny,” Y/n mumbled, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Please, Ron.”
Ron couldn’t take it anymore, he sprung forward, pinning her beneath his large frame, his hands gripping her wrists and pulling them above her head. Y/n tried to wriggle out from his grip but his grip only tightened.
“Now now Darling, don’t get upset,” Ron reassured her, pressing his lips to hers to silence the whimpers.
Ron worked quickly, stripping her of her dress and underwear, tossing them across the room to be collected later. Next came his trousers, he pulled off his belt and began wrapping it around her wrists, pulling them flush against the headboard and restraining her there.
“Please Ron, let me help you. Let me touch you,” she cried but Ron silenced her again with another kiss.
“Oh pretty lady, you don’t need to touch me. Tonight is all about you.”
Y/n could feel his fingers slipping down beneath her dress once more, rubbing against the soft flesh before trailing to where she wanted him. Where she needed him.
“Ron!” She gasped, as his thumb began to slowly circle her clit, while his other hand moved up her body, stroking the smooth skin of her lower abdomen before trailing up to her breasts. Y/n had never felt so safe and secure while simultaneously being so exposed as he pressed another kiss to her lips.
“You’re so beautiful,” Ron cooed, brushing the stray strands of hair that had fallen into her face while continuing his movements on her clit. She couldn’t speak, she could barely breathe as her stomach began to knot and the pressure between her legs grew. She wanted to snap her legs shut as she wriggled beneath him, and as if Ron sensed this he situated himself further between her legs. “Now you promised you’d be a good girl and good girls don’t close their legs now, do they?”
Y/n shook her head frantically, she’d never felt so pathetic. Ever since she joined the paratroopers she had spent every day proving she was tough, she could handle herself and yet by just his touch alone Ronald Speirs had rendered her incapacitated.
A small moan escaped her as Ron’s tongue swirled around her nipple.
“Do you like that, Darling? Tell me you like it.”
“I like it,” Y/n nearly screamed. “Please, I like it. Don’t stop.”
Ron hummed in amusement, repeating the action and earning the same response.
“Please Ron, please I need more,” she whined, fighting against the restraints that held her there. The desperate look in her eyes was all Ron needed. He reached forward, removing the belt and freeing her hands. They immediately landed on the hem of his underwear, pulling at the elastic impatiently but Ron pushed her hands away.
“Not yet my Darling. Remember I told you, tonight is all about you,” Ron pressed a final kiss to her lips, squeezing her hips before he sank beneath the covers out of view.
Y/n had been with men before but none had done anything like this. She gasped, grabbing a fistful of the bedsheets and throwing her head back in an exaggerated groan. Ron linked his arms under her legs, placing them over his shoulders and he continued to trail kisses over her clit. The small licks and nibbles drove her wild. Y/n cried and whimpered, tugging frantically at Ron’s brown locks as the pressure in her stomach continued to build.
“God, Ron I’m so close. I’m so close. Please…” she cried out as the knot came undone and her whole body spasmed. Her legs clamped tightly around Ron’s head but he didn’t seem to notice, choosing to continue to kiss and lick her until the tremors finally subsided and Y/n could breathe again.
He reappeared from beneath the covers, his lips and chin dripping with saliva and a wicked grin on his face. His brown locks fell onto his sweaty forehead as he spoke, “Did you enjoy that my Darling.”
“Yes,” Y/n mumbled, her chest still heaving from the effort of her orgasm.
“Good because I’m only just getting started.”
Y/n let out a guttural moan, pushing herself off the pillows, “Ron, I want you to fuck me.”
She wasn’t sure where the foul language had come from, despite being surrounded by soldiers all the time she rarely swore but now seemed like an appropriate time.
Ron took this as a sign, pushing his boxers down and allowing his desperately hard cock to spring free from its restraint. He reached over to the bedside cabinet, retrieving a condom and rolling it down his cock. Y/n watched in awe of him. Not only was he an attractive man but his body was sculpted like a Greek God and Y/n thanked all those runs up Currehea for that.
Ron pushed her back against the bed, pressing his hips into hers and teasing her once more but the teasing didn’t continue for long and soon he was lining himself up to her entrance.
“Are you ready? If at any point you want me to stop…”
“Ron, please just shut up and fuck me,” Y/n snapped, already too wound up and desperate to keep talking. Ron nodded, pressing his lips securely to hers as he entered. With every inch that pushed inside of her Y/n felt fuller than she ever had before and the ecstasy building within her was stronger than ever.
Once he was inside all the way, Ron allowed her a moment to adjust before pulling out and slamming back into her. His thrusts were relentless and precise. Hitting the exact spot with every thrust and sending Y/n into a frenzy of incoherent phrases as she clawed at his back like a mad woman. Despite the pace he was going, Ron made her feel loved with every thrust, pressing delicate kisses to her ear lobe, whispering to her, a number of ‘I love you’s’ were exchanged too.
“Ron, please… I’m so close,” she cried out, causing Ron to draw in a deep breath. He reached his hand down between their bodies, circling her clit with his thumb once more until she came undone with a loud cry of his name. He grabbed her face, kissing her passionately and silencing the moans as he came undone inside of her.
The pair lay like this for a few moments, sweat trickling down Ron’s spine and his damp hair smeared against his forehead.
“Y/n, Sweetheart, are you alright?” He looked down at her, his eyes full of love and concern.
“I’m perfect,” she replied, reaching up to brush away the stray hairs from his eyes, “Everything is perfect.”
The moment was disturbed by a harsh crashing noise followed by the bedroom door flying open and a very drunk Nixon stumbling into the room.
“SPEIRS?” He shouted, seemingly shocked that Ron was in the room he thought belonged to him.
“SERGEANT Y/L/N?” Nixon started blankly for a few moments before sticking his head out the door.
“HARRY YOU OWE ME 20 BUCKS. I TOLD YOU THEY WERE FUCKING!”
“NIXON!” Ron snapped, glaring harshly at him as he rolled out of Y/n who let out a small moan. “GET THE FUCK OUT!”
Nixon looked at them again before waving his hand and mumbling as he retreated out of the room. The couple fell back onto the bed laughing. Ron pulled off the condom, disposing of it into the bedside bin and moving to get out of bed when Y/n stopped him.
“Wait. Let’s cuddle for a while.” Ron nodded, sighing as he pulled Y/n flush to his chest. Y/n glanced up at him, her face shining pale in the moonlight.
“Ron, next time we have sex, can you please make sure you lock the door.” Ron nodded, sighing as he pulled Y/n flush to his chest.
“Of course my Darling. Anything for you.”
Tags @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @ronald-speirs @sweetxvanixlla @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @allthingsimagines @whollyjoly @bucky32557038ww2 @panzershrike-pretz @malarkgirlypop @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt
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Take These Broken Wings
Dick Winters x Enlisted!Unnamed Female OC/Reader
Trapped behind his desk, Dick finds out the unthinkable has happened to the woman he cares about. Now he has to deal with the consequences; first as her commanding officer and then as the man who loves her.
Warnings: MAJOR Canon Divergence, Angst, Implied Sexual Assault, Descriptions of OC/Reader Injuries, Discussion of Retaliatory Violence, Gentleman's Agreement Not To Prosecute, Period Specific Ideas about Honor and Protection of Women, PTSD, Weapons, Language, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.
Author's Note: Self-indulgent canon divergence with little explanation ahead, read at your own risk. Because of the sensitive nature of this fic, I chose to write it in the third person but only a nickname is used so it can be read as a reader fic. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within, particularly the Red Devils in this case!
Special Note: Dearest tag list, I have chosen not to tag any of you because this is so wildly different than my usual fics, I just wasn't sure who would want to read it.
Word Count: 4148
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October 17, 1944 – Schoonderlogt, Holland
It had never been his intention to fall in love with her. With any of the female paratroopers in the 506th, for that matter. But like the slow erosion of a river carving a new path through bare rock, she had ever so gradually hollowed out a place for herself in his heart until all at once he realized he could not live without her. Of course, if one were to ask her, she fell in love with Dick Winters the first day they met in Toccoa, Georgia, sun scorching their skin, blazing his hair copper – or so she liked to remind him often.
His realization had not come until he’d found her halfway up a tree in Normandy, tangled in the lines of her parachute, desperately trying to slice herself free before she was discovered by enemy troops. The sheer panic he had felt as his mind flooded with all the possible ways he could have lost her that night had only served to drive home how deeply he cared for Peaches. Dick didn’t often use the nickname that Nix had bestowed on her; a nickname born of some sordid adventure involving cans of peaches that he’d decided he’d rather not know about. But he did love the way it made her nose crinkle when he slipped it into their stolen moments together. Moments that were becoming harder and harder to find now that he had been placed in charge of 2nd Battalion.
Several pages being laid on his desk by Zielinski tore Dick out of his inner musings and he lifted his pen to add his signature to the line where his Orderly pointed expectantly. Sink had assured him the paperwork would be ‘nothing to sweat’ but Dick was certainly sweating it now. The call of Nixon’s voice as he came up the stairs was a welcome reprieve from the rapidly multiplying stacks of paper on his desk, something that his friend seemed only too happy to point out.
Dick could only feel envy, mixed with trepidation and a certain amount of helplessness, as Heyliger informed him Operation Pegasus was preparing to launch in a matter of hours and he remained trapped in his combination office and bedroom in the attic. As the pair of them made their way down the stairs and out of the requisitioned farmhouse, Dick looked up from his typewriter once more as he heard Nixon’s bright greeting.
“Hey there Peaches, you’ve got something on your face.”
“Very funny Captain. Lieutenant.” He heard her voice reply and did his best not to grin.
“Zielenski, could you go grab a new box of pencils from the storeroom? It’s going to be a long night.” Dick swallowed, doing his best to come up with an excuse for two minutes alone with her, five if he was lucky.
“Yes, sir.” There was a note of confusion in the man’s voice but thankfully he complied, hustling down the stairs.
There was a moment of silence before he heard the door shut followed by the sound of her jump boots scuffing up the worn wooden steps, grinning as she was startled to find him waiting for her at the top of the stairs.
“And here I was thinking I’d surprise you…Who was that?” She glanced back towards the door, and he sighed, shaking his head.
“Don’t worry about it, how’re you feeling about this thing?” He asked softly, taking her hands in his.
“Should be fine, Moose picked mostly people who can swim, the Canadians are nice. That Colonel Dobie sure is handsome.” She teased lightly, lacing her fingers with his.
Despite her teasing tone, Dick still felt a little annoyed at the comment, particularly given the fact that the man was free to swim the river in reconnaissance and join the operation that night while he was a glorified paper pusher.
“Too bad for him I like ‘em tall as a stalk of corn and copper as a penny.” She leaned in to press her lips to his and Dick felt his eyes fall shut, tension that he’d been carrying for hours slowly ebbing from his body.
She pulled back with a soft smile before frowning apologetically. “Sorry my love I got grease paint on you.” She licked her thumb and swiped at his cheek like he was a grubby toddler, and he could not help the broad grin that stretched his features even as he felt his cheeks heat up at the term of endearment she’d only recently begun to use.
“I’ll get it in a moment, Peaches.” He muttered, glancing around to ensure they were still alone before sliding an arm around her waist to pull her close, kissing her soundly. “Be safe out there…don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…”
“Oh, like run across a field toward two companies of SS by myself?” She narrowed her eyes at him, and he pressed his lips together, still able to hear every word of her displeasure at being left behind for the agonizing seconds it took for the red smoke signal to appear.
“Especially that.” He muttered, clearing his throat and taking a step back as he heard the door open at the bottom of the stairs.
She quickly grabbed her handkerchief and soaked it with water from her canteen, passing it to him so he could scrub at his face, hopefully removing all evidence of their interlude.
“Pencils sir.” Zielenski held out the box proudly and she raised an eyebrow, introducing herself warmly to the Orderly.
“That’ll be all, Sergeant, good luck out there.”
“Thank you sir, appreciate your time.” She replied smoothly, looking completely unaffected while Dick was very aware of the residual heat in his face.
Dick took his time opening the box, watching her back as she slowly descended out of sight until the door closed shut behind her. Sinking into his chair he submitted himself to another few hours of pointing and signing with his Orderly before sending the boy to bed, peering out his window hopefully when a great ruckus arose from one of the barns out back.
Glancing at his watch to confirm it was nearly 0200, he smiled a little to himself as everything seemed to have gone off alright. Rain drops began to sporadically strike the windowpane before the clouds opened into a steady, driving rain. Dick dropped the curtain with a sigh, the room filled with the rhythmic sound of water striking the roof and rolling off the eaves. It was dangerously tempting to lay his head down on his desk and give in to the heaviness in his eyelids, to allow himself to be lulled to sleep. Shaking himself physically, he turned back to yet another report and began striking the keys of his typewriter with a vengeance, hoping to keep himself awake with the racket.
Dick was just spooling a fresh page into place when Nixon was suddenly hurrying up the stairs, followed by Colonel Dobie himself. Both men were wet as drowned rats, but it was the seriousness of their faces that pulled Dick to his feet immediately, securing the pencil from between his teeth into his fist.
“Dick, you remember Colonel Dobie.”
“Yeah…yeah I do…” He replied slowly, trying to ignore the feeling of a sword dangling over their heads as he waited for them to tell him what was going on.
“Terribly sorry to barge in at such a late hour but I wanted to inform you of this incident personally. Well, incidents more precisely. It appears that one of our men, a Holman from Yorkshire, has been severely beaten by a couple of your men from Easy in retaliation for his attack on one of your female soldiers.”
Dick nodded once as he processed the news, heartrate picking up immediately. There were a total of twenty-seven women in 2nd Battalion, but given that it had been only Easy involved in Pegasus, that narrowed it down to a possible nine, of which just a handful had been chosen for the operation. Dick merely had to glance at Nixon to confirm his worst fear. Peaches.
He didn’t realize how tight his grip on the pencil in his hand had grown until the wooden object snapped in two.
“I am willing to consider the matter settled and in need of no further action. The man in question will be returned to England and assigned to some menial duty once he recovers from his injuries.” Dobie continued.
“That will take some time?” Dick asked calmly, despite the searing rage he felt rushing through him.
“Your men were thorough, Captain.” The Colonel replied, grimly.
Dick stood there a moment, eyeing an ink stain that had seeped into the wooden desk top while he was refilling his pen, considering. A beating and unpleasant assignment as punishment for heaven knows what the man had inflicted on her. But to demand more formal proceedings would immediately require testimonies and punishments for the men who had taken it upon themselves to defend her honor. He closed his eyes a moment, vision immediately flooded with her smiling face on one of the blissful outings they had enjoyed during their furlough in England. Forcefully setting the image aside, despite the way it wrenched at his heart to do so, he nodded again. If only to save her further pain.
“Agreed.” Dick offered his hand, Colonel Dobie sealing their agreement with a firm handshake.
Dobie turned to shake Nixon’s hand as well before seeing himself out, Dick waiting until he heard the door close before he spoke again. Two questions on the tip of his tongue, two men inside him, warring for dominance. To his dismay, he had to allow the Battalion’s commanding officer to speak first.
“Who are our vigilantes?”
“Martin and Randleman.” Nixon replied, sitting on one of the folding chairs at the small table in the corner with a heavy sigh. “Moose has them downstairs if you want to talk to them.”
“Yeah. Show them up.”
Nixon leveraged himself out of the chair and was halfway across the attic before he suddenly turned back. “She put that can of peaches in Parkes’ footlocker.”
Dick eyed his friend in confusion, the information seeming utterly irrelevant to their current situation until he suddenly remembered one of Sobel’s impromptu barracks inspections back in Toccoa.
“That dumb bastard wouldn’t leave the women in her squad alone, so she planted it there to get him in trouble – never expected him to get thrown out entirely.” Nixon sighed heavily.
“Where is she?” Dick asked quickly, the words almost melding together in his haste to get them out of his mouth.
“Johnny thinks she’s holed up in the supply barn, I’ll find out.” Nixon replied with a frown and Dick nodded silently, muscles of his jaw clenching almost painfully as he clung to the last vestiges of his focus.
He tossed the broken halves of the pencil onto the desk, frowning at the mess of lead on his palm and pulled the handkerchief from his pocket, frown deepening at the smudges of grease paint there from her face. He clenched the fabric between his fingers as Moose entered the office followed by a hard-faced Martin and a typically laidback Randleman.
“What happened?” He asked plainly, eyeing them expectantly.
Moose stood off to the side, watching Martin and Randleman exchange a look.
“Don’t all talk at once…” Dick prodded calmly, and Martin turned back to him.
“Bull and I were on our way out of the celebration, wanted to beat the rain and get back to our quarters – didn’t work out. Ran into Peaches as we got around the corner of the building. She looked like hell, roughed up, wouldn’t tell me what happened.”
“She just ran, not like her at all, sir.” Randleman chimed in.
“And then that bastard from the Devils, or whatever they call themselves, came around the corner looking all pleased with himself. Adjusting his pants.”
“Knuckles busted up.” Came Randleman’s addition once more.
“Anyway,” Martin continued after a sharp nod of agreement, “it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”
Dick exhaled a slow, measured breath. “I can appreciate why you both did what you did. Next time, and we can only hope we never have to have this conversation again, bring him to Moose, to me. We have systems in place, alright?”
“Sir.”
“Yes, sir.”
“All that said…well done.” Dick said with quiet emphasis, letting his pride and gratitude burn brightly in his gaze. “And you’re both on latrine duty for the next two weeks.” He tacked on because he really had no choice but to punish them.
A pair of smirking salutes was the only response before Moose ushered them out. Dick waited until the count of twenty before sliding the suspenders of his OD pants onto his shoulders, shrugging into his jacket and clapping on his helmet. Grabbing his M1 and flashlight, he quickly made his way down the stairs and out into the persistent deluge toward the supply barn, nearly slamming into Nixon on the way.
“Follow me.” His friend nodded and continued to lead the way, nodding to Liebgott who was standing guard at the door, soaked to the skin.
“Joe.” Dick greeted him, noting the way he had his collar turned up obscuring half his face. The way his hands were shoved deep into his pockets.
It easily could have been in an attempt to protect himself against the elements, but Dick also knew Liebgott was the sort of man to never let anything go unanswered and if he was standing out here in the rain, he was surely more involved than anyone was letting on.
“Peaches is in there, sir. Doc Roe tried to help her, she wouldn’t let him touch her. Thought I’d make sure no one bothered her until she was ready.”
“Good thinking.” Dick swallowed.
He ought to press further, ferret out the truth of Liebgott’s involvement, but standing just outside where she was hiding, the other half of him was very much in charge now – wanting nothing more than to throw the door open and charge in. But by the sounds of it, that approach would be quite unwelcome.
“Why don’t you go warm up for a bit, we’ll take a turn.” Nixon said to Liebgott who looked between the pair of them before nodding in return.
“Thanks, sir.” He agreed, glancing back toward the barn once before jogging off into the night.
Dick waited until they were well and truly alone before slowly opening the door, stepping into the dim space, sliding his helmet from his head. The sound of footsteps retreating into the far corner behind crates of supplies drew his attention and he took a slow breath, calling her name softly.
“It’s me. Dick. I’m here to check on you.”
There was a soft, smothered sound and he clenched his fists, keeping his progress gradual and measured, trying not to make any sudden movements or noises to startle her. As he reached the rear of the barn, he rounded a stack of crates and his heart clenched painfully as his eyes fell on her wedged between a few bundles of blankets and sacks of something it was too dark to read the labels of. Her knees were hugged tightly to her chest, M1 tucked into the crook of her elbow as she eyed him warily in the dark.
Her normally tidy hair was in disarray, and the side of her face that he could see sported a gash across her eyebrow. He took another step closer, the air shuddering from his lungs as she flinched away, pressing tightly into the wall behind her, revealing her split lower lip, the swelling along her left cheekbone, the barely-dried tear tracks on her face.
Dick had never seen her shy away from anything since the day they’d met – not the obstacle course, the rifle range, Currahee, or jumping out of a C-47. For his proximity to garner such a reaction from her felt very much as though she had torn his heart from his breast and stomped it beneath her heel.
Sinking slowly into a crouch, he swallowed before speaking just above a whisper. “Peaches…”
The look of disgust, whether it was at the nickname or at herself – perhaps both, mixed with horror that crossed her face had Dick seriously considering if he had enough time to find Holman before his trip back to England and land a few blows himself. He gently corrected it with her name, teeth grinding together audibly in his skull as she turned her head to the side revealing small knicks at her throat. He’d held her at knife point.
“They’ve already found him. Some of the boys took justice into their own hands, but his superiors know now too.” He tried to reassure her, let her know he was no longer out there, no longer a threat to her.
Dick’s eyes dropped to follow the movement of her fingers as she picked at the torn ends of her nails, several cuts visible on her hands as well. Knowing her she’d probably put up a hell of a fight.
“P–” He stopped himself before he accidentally used the offensive nickname again. “…please you’re hurt. Can I clean you up?” He asked, voice trembling with the emotions he was desperately trying to keep at bay for her sake as he shifted forward onto his knees.
She shook her head violently in response, hugging her limbs tighter to her body, which hadn’t even seemed a possibility until it was done. Dick swallowed painfully, carefully laying his rifle and helmet down on the wooden floor beside him, sitting back on his heels.
“I love you.” He blinked rapidly at the gathering dampness in his eyelashes. “No matter what’s happened, I will always love you. I’m not going anywhere.”
She eyed him skeptically, no words passing between them for a long while. The sound of the persistent rain outside pounding against the roof filled the barn, drowning out the sound of their breathing, until she opened her mouth to speak at last.
“I froze.” She whispered, tone thick with self-loathing as she released her grip on her M1, laying it down beside his before sealing her palm over her mouth.
She began to shake with sobs so ferocious that no sound passed her throat, rendering the smothering effect of her hand unnecessary. Dick felt his heart shatter as he automatically reached for her, wanting nothing more than to pull her close and soothe some of her pain. Her repeated aversion to his touch, however, came flooding back and he froze, arms outstretched and aching to hold her, but wanting to respect her wishes.
The feeling of her body colliding with his chest as she launched herself into his arms punched the air from his lungs for several reasons, nearly sending him toppling over backwards with the force of it. Dick’s arms quickly gathered her onto his lap, one hand rubbing along her spine as her strangled sobs soaked his jacket, her hands clutching at him in return.
“You survived, my love.” He whispered against her hair, deciding he really ought to call her that in kind. It was only fitting for it was exactly how he felt. “You did what you had to do to survive in that moment. Please forgive yourself.”
He felt her shift against his sternum, the shudders wracking her body gradually slowing as she took deeper and deeper breaths, sniffling and wiping at her face carefully.
“Who did you have to yell at?” She murmured wetly, peering up at him cautiously.
“Martin and Randleman. Fairly certain Liebgott is somehow involved as well.” Dick replied softly, fighting back the urge to stroke her face. One step at a time – being allowed to hold her would more than suffice for now.
She sniffed. “Johnny must have figured it out first. I couldn’t even come up with a plausible lie I just…ran away from him outside the party…” Her eyes lowered in shame before she sat up slowly, Dick biting back a frown at the barely concealed wince that crossed her features.
“Nix is outside keeping watch. Can I take you back to CP? Get you cleaned up?” He swallowed, really wanting her to allow Roe to look her over but doubting that would be an option.
She looked to him, eyes suddenly wide with the terror of realization. “Oh god Dick, what if I catch something or…wind up pregnant…oh fuck…” Her face began to crumple, and Dick swallowed, quickly cupping her uninjured cheek hoping to startle her out of that train of thought.
As she jumped and looked to him sharply, he apologized gently. “My love, we don’t know if any of those things will happen. Hopefully they won’t, but no matter what comes next, we’re going to face it together.”
“But Dick I’m–”
“Don’t go and say something melodramatic, now. You’re the woman I love and something horrible has been done to you. It doesn’t change who you are to me.” He replied firmly, swallowing as she stared at him startled for a moment, before nodding slowly. “Now I’m taking you to CP and we’re getting you cleaned up, ok?”
“Should I salute you, Captain?” She raised an eyebrow before wincing and restoring her face to a neutral expression.
He felt his cheeks redden, a sure sign that things would some day return back to normal. That the woman he loved was still with him, she just needed a lot of care right now and he was more than happy to provide it. “That won’t be necessary, Sergeant.” He replied and tried not to smirk as she scoffed slightly in surprise before shifting to her feet slowly.
Dick passed her rifle to her before grabbing his own, rising to his feet and sliding his helmet on his head. He offered his hand to her, swallowing back his sigh of relief as she laced her battered fingers through his and followed him out through the maze of supplies to where Nixon was still waiting in the rain.
“Christ, Peaches…” He breathed when she came into view and Dick shot him a sharp look, trying, too late, to stop him using the nickname.
“Son-of-a-bitch ruined the nickname, Nix. I trust you to come up with a new one.” She sighed, sounding positively exhausted, and Nixon nodded quickly in reply.
“Noted. You sure you’re alright?” He asked softly and she shook her head.
“No. But someday, maybe.” She replied honestly and Nixon nodded empathetically as Dick squeezed her hand gently.
“Let’s get out of this rain.” He led the three of them back into the farmhouse, taking her straight to the washroom where he filled the basin with water. “Help or no?”
She paused a moment, staring at her reflection in the cracked mirror left behind by the home’s original owners and Dick waited patiently until she turned back to him. “I can do it.” She replied softly and he nodded, closing the door to wait in the hall.
Nixon shuffled by carrying his pillow and Dick raised an eyebrow. “Give her my bed, I’ll take your crappy little cot.” He muttered, making his way to the attic before he even had the chance to reply.
The ghost of a smile crossed his lips as he leaned his head back against the wall, thoroughly spent by the events of the day, knowing he’d have to be up in just a few hours to face the rest of the paperwork on his desk.
“Dick?” Her soft voice startled him, making him realize he’d actually fallen asleep standing up, for just a moment.
Her lips twitched slightly with a hint of amusement, and he smiled slightly in return, nodding as she looked more herself despite the still-fresh injuries.
“This way.” He offered his hand and led her towards Nixon’s room, gesturing at the bed. “Gift from Lew.”
Her face softened, eyes glistening suddenly, reminding Dick just how fragile she still was. “Where is he sleeping?”
“Attic.”
“Then you need a bed too…” She replied as she crawled onto the mattress, sighing at the softness of the bedding.
“Oh, the floor is fine I…”
“Please hold me.” Her voice was small, her request simple and one that he did not need to hear twice to honor.
He unlaced his boots and removed his outer layers before crawling in with her, letting her curl up against him before sliding his arm around her carefully. “Comfortable?” He asked in a hushed voice.
“Very.” She replied sleepily and he allowed himself to drift, listening to the rise and fall of her breath, letting sleep nibble at the edges of his consciousness.
“Dick?” She whispered and he snuffled awake quickly.
“Yeah?”
“Does it smell like pee in here?”
-------------------------
Band of Brothers Masterlist
#dick winters x reader#dick winters x oc#dick winters imagines#dick winters imagine#band of brothers x reader#band of brothers fic#band of brothers imagines#band of brothers imagine#band of brothers#tw sa implied#tw assault#tw sa
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Ron Speirs x Reader
Summary: Nobody really stands alone at Currahee even if you try. Sometimes we try to run away from our thoughts and demons but sometimes they catch us on the race for the better or worse.
A/N: This fic was written on the sole purpose of filling the big void in my heart caused by the showrunners who refused to gives us Ron in Toccoa, it was based on this post ignited by this military AU prompt. Also slightly based on the fact that Speirs used to be a runner for the athletics back when he was a student.
Since he was a kid he loved to run, he ran all the way from school to his home trying to get there as fast as he could because it meant more time to play with his toys and his friends. When he got a bit older he loved to run because it was a relief for his troubled mind, but also because he was so good at it, he was always a competitor and the winning feeling gave him joy and praise it was his runaway.
Life was going fast and there was no way to stop him, in his mind there was a clear path, study, get a job, get a house and so far everything was going in the right direction, but that was until the news about a war came and he had to put a hold on everything he thought was in his path.
It’s been some weeks since he arrived at Camp Toccoa for his basic training, so far the physical requirements were the last of his problems, he even enjoyed the preparations and of course his favourite part was the endless running exercises. He has always been smart, but the endless morning classes studying maps, sand tables, aerial photos were a torture, not because he couldn’t understand it, no! In fact he understood it better than the old officer trying to teach them, and that was the problem, they were too slow and he was a natural born tactician.
One afternoon after a torture session was over he had some spare time on his hands, so he quickly changed into his PT gear and headed towards the mountain he was getting so acquainted. When they said that Currahee means “Stands Alone” he could understand why the natives gave this name to the 1.700 foot tall giant. It was the chance for his mind to go blank for some time.
*
You wanted to get better, you HAD to do better for you and for all the women who couldn’t yet join the army, this was always on the back of your mind, you embraced every chance to get some extra training. Each company had 5 women to the personnel as part of the government development plans (and propaganda), of course being ever so lucky you got into Easy Company, the same company that had the worst CO in the entire battalion.
Herbert Sobel enjoyed every chance he got to torture and make the whole company miserable, at first you thought it was some personal hatred towards you and the other girls, but turns out he seemed to hate everyone. He pointed out the most ridiculous reasons to make everyone run the goddamn mountain, once he didn’t like the way you tied your hair during a friday night run. After the incident you decided to cut your hair short to prevent any other problems, poor Bull was furious when he saw you that it took Martin, Luz and Christenson to hold him back from trying to strangle Sobel.
One afternoon you decided to try to improve your time running Currahee so you got your mussete bag filled with some fruits you charmed Winters to give to you back in the kitchen and your water canteen. You were finally alone this time which gave you more liberty without feeling watched every step.
After some minutes you saw that there was someone else behind you but didn’t paid any attention as you looked at the watch on your wrist and so far your time was good, so you decided to maintain your focus and keep your good rhythm. The landscape was slowly changing as you was getting closer to the summit of the mountain, suddenly you looked at your left and someone was passing you like a lightning bolt, “oh great another show-off fucker trying to prove that he is better than me” you thought to yourself and muttered a “dickhead” after he was gaining advantage so you pushed yourself harder and harder, but he was so quick you couldn’t catch him.
Some more 15 endless minutes later you arrived to the highest point of Currahee, you once again looked at your watch, a new record!!! You got so proud that instead of running down the other 3 miles you decided to stay and enjoy the landscape down bellow. You chose a nice spot to sit down under some plants that were covering at least a tiny little bit of the sun and decided to take a fruit, but then you saw him.
Being in the army surrounded by some handsome men gave you at least the useful ability to pretend not to stare down a shirtless man, but this one was a completely different story. The dickhead you saw earlier was laying down on the sun just a couple of feets away from you, using his PT shirt under his back as some kind of towel to protect him from the rocks and the gravel underneath.
As the sun was kissing his sweaty pale skin and his dark hair you watched how his toned chest was going up and down in some uneven rhythm, your mind was racing, your heart beating faster and your breath was matching his so you tried to shrug it off telling yourself it was the adrenaline from your effort, wrong again. You watched as his long eyelashes rested so peacefully as his eyes were closed, then once again you tried to change your thoughts and peel the orange on your hand.
You took your knife to split the fruit and when you finally opened it the citric smell filled the air, the man near you slowly opened up his eyes as he was taken from some trance and scanned your face, he took a look at his watch and smiled to himself as he closed his eyes again to which you rolled your eyes. As if reading your mind you heard a hard voice suddenly speaking.
"I'm not judging you, on the contrary, I'm quite surprised you were so quick, I had to push harder to get past you" he said opening just one of his eyes to glance at you.
That took you by surprise, you could feel your cheeks burning after the compliment and you only mumbled some weird thanks.
After an awkward silence he started to get up to sit down, now his dirty shirt was thrown over his left shoulder, you followed his movement as he was so close you could see the freckles in his back. Trying once again to change your focus you reached your canteen to get some water, he glanced at you and gave a soft smile to witch you could only understand as a quiet plead for some water.
"You want some?" you said reaching it for him to take.
"Don't your admirable CO forbid you guys to drink water while running up and down here or something like that?" he asked raising one of his eyebrows in a playful way.
"Sometimes yes but thankfully he is not here" you said trying to hold your laugh.
"He got quite a reputation for himself, poor bastard, couldn't imagine being in his skin" he said giving back your canteen and nodding his head with a silent thank you, his eyes carefully watching you.
"Wait how do you know I'm from Easy Company?" you said suddenly curious after realising that you had not yet introduced yourself.
"Well, you got quite a reputation too, a better one, the toughest girl on the whole battalion" he said with a grin on his face "that and the fact that I saw you running up here with Winters, a girl and a redhead is quite a sight here, you know"
"I'm Y/L/N" you said with a polite little smile.
"Speirs" he said in return as you shook hands .
"Well Speirs, nice to meet you but now I need to return now or I'll be in big trouble" you said shoving your stuff into your bag again and cleaning your hands in your shorts.
"Want to race?" he said suddenly getting up and wearing his shirt, you could swear.
"Winner buys a drink?" you said laughing.
"Smartass" he replied and started to run down the mountain
You tried to keep up with him for the biggest part of the trail and tried your best but before he was fast, he reached the finishing line and then he watched as you finished too.
You both were trying to catch some air and exchanged some looks while sharing friendly smiles.
That night at the bar as you waited while he went to get a couple of beers for you both you couldn't help but smile as you realised that nobody stands alone at Currahee.
*
When you saw someone running through the streets of Foy and through the enemy lines you heart almost stopped, you knew it was him, you knew nobody could be this fearless and run so fast like Ronald Fucking Speirs.
At this point everybody knew he was at little bit crazy on the head and he got quite a reputation too. The thing is he was almost too crazy for his own good and once again you were the one holding your breath and silently praying for no harm.
When everybody thought he was crazy enough here comes the lunatic running again after passing some info to I Company. You could see the happiness and relief on the faces of your friends, Lipton even got a dumb smile in his face. They were all happy that Easy finally got a good leader again.
As soon as he got his helmet off and sit down to rest you came furious stomping you way towards him.
"You crazy son of a bitch are you out of your goddamn mind?? Fucking stupid dickhead" you said slapping him on the arms and even giving little punches to his chest
Everyone else was sharing a confused look while watching this scene, Ron had no reaction and was somehow also confused looking at you. He let you curse and hit him, he knew why you got to that point.
"Woow woow woow, Y/N, calm down it's okay, look thanks to Lieutenant everything went fine" Lipton said holding you by your shoulders and carefully taking you away from Speirs.
"No you don't understand" you shouted as tears started to roll down your cheeks.
"Yes I do, okay, I might seem dumb but it's not that hard to figure where you were running away to every night since Aldbourne" he said giving you a comforting look you two often shared "Besides, it was so fucking awesome what he did there you must admit" Lipton said giving you a little wink.
You rolled your eyes at your best friend while trying to wipe away the tears. You felt a hand on your back and you turned around to see him but before you could curse him once again you felt his lips gently pressing yours.
For a moment you could swear that even the world stopped spinning around, the only sound you could hear was your own heart pounding on your chest, for a moment you were back at running Currahee, you could even smell some citric scent on the air. His lip were soft, his hands warm just gently squeezing your hips.
After the two of you went for the drink as part of the bet made on the summit of Currahee a friendship began. At first he was just a good friend but then you started to feel things you've never experienced before, it was love. Your first kiss was before making the jump on D-Day, on France you almost lost your head but he was there to help you, at Holland you almost lost him and thought you would never see those eyes again, on Bastogne you survived the freezing temperatures and used every opportunity to use his scarf to cover your face with the excuse of hiding from the cold when you were sick. He was always there, for you.
When he parted the kiss the smell of metal, gunpowder and dirty came all back like a punch, you looked at him once again and all your anger was gone, he was okay and so were you.
"Dickhead" was everything you said before he gently kissed your forehead, adjusted the M-1 on his shoulder and started to run between the line barking orders to the men.
Taglist: @mads-weasley, @footprintsinthesxnd, @sweetxvanixlla, @xxluckystrike, @malarkgirlypop, @lostloveletters, @next-autopsy, @ewipandora, @executethyself35, @easycompany123, @whollyjoly and @basilone
#ronald speirs#ron speirs#band of brothers#band of brothers x reader#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers fic#ronald speirs x reader#mw*#mf*
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Two Halves of a Heartbeat, Beating as One
˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙
Merry Christmas @currahee! I'm your secret Santa!
Request: a character who assumes they won't get a gift for Christmas, only to be pleasantly surprised.
Pairings: Ronald Speirs x f!reader
Warnings: Death, depression, probably swearing, kissing
A/n: Hey! I've never seen your account prior to this, so I'm glad to have you as my designated Secret Santa gift receiver!! I hope this is tailored to your liking, and I hope you like this! Merry Christmas and happy new year! :)
Taglist: @inglourious-imagines || (If you'd like to join my taglist; submit a form here!
˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥
The days slowly melted past one by one, very scarce new events occurring. Every day was a repeat of the one before. Countless shelling from the artillery located just across the clearing. The never ending supply of dead soldiers soaring as morale stooped to an all time low.
Everyone was on the verge of their breaking point.
Through the harshness of Sobel in Toccoa, all the way to Holland, the 506th had been through so much death and destruction yet had remained steadfast throughout it all.
But now, in the company's arguably darkest time, the regiment became ever-fragile. The exhausted soldiers couldn't handle any more of this.
False promises of the war ending before Christmas had become what kept the 506th going, but as the day ticked closer and closer that hope began to dwindle.
Everyone, no matter the transparency each individual experienced as the thought dawned on them, knew they weren't going home for the holiday. They never were.
Dragging yourself from those wretched thoughts, you exhale softly, your breath creating a thick fog that rises and dissipates nearly as fast as it first appeared in the cold afternoon air. Even now, where all you could focus on was the numbness of your fingers, the air held a certain briskness to it that made your throat and nostrils burn when you inhaled.
‘Now is not the time for such dark thoughts’ you think to yourself, shaking your head as if to knock some sense into yourself.
Those thoughts, the one that let reality set in a little too far, were killers. Even just a mere drop in a soldier's ability to keep strong mentally on the frontlines ultimately affected their physical well-being aswell. In a time as dire as war, a drop in strength translated directly to a meaningless death.
In the distance, you could hear the crunching of feet on snow growing increasingly closer.
“Sergeant,” The voice is firm, yet recognizable. You glance up at the mysterious figure who approaches, once again ripped from the storm of endless thoughts brewing within your very mind.
Ronald Speirs.
You instantly recognize Dog companies CO. An intimidating man surrounded by rumors he'd never bothered to confirm nor deny. Yet, a handsome man. His face is one of chiseled beauty, like a Greek god. Something you'd been sure to notice over your countless interactions. Since you'd known him, Speirs had treated you equally despite being the only female in the 506th. Something you admired.
Ever since your first weeks at Toccoa, you’d taken a special interest in Speirs, and naturally you’d gotten a lot closer.
Speirs isn't one to dawdle, so he gets right to the point, “Sergeant, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
“Go ahead,” you reply through chattering teeth, sore from clenching them closed so often.
"What are your plans for Christmas this year, if we go back to the states?"
Even in the cold, you can feel your cheeks flushing red. He wants to know what you're christmas plans are?
Not answering immediately, letting the words sink in as you formulate a response, “You don't seriously believe that?" You chuckle dryly at last, "I thought of all people you'd be the most sensible."
"No, I don't," he replies after a moment of silence, "but everyone at least has some plans this holiday. A hope. I wanted to know what yours was." You could've sworn you'd seen him shift his gaze away momentarily, but his face was shadowed by his bulky helmet, obscuring your vision of his beautiful face.
"That everyone wouldn't be me, then," you avert your attention momentarily to his lips, but shake your head in disgust at yourself, what were you looking at? He was your superior! "What about you, captain? Any plans yourself?"
"I was going to visit family if we went back. But, seeing as that isn't happening anytime soon, I thought I'd settle on a gift for someone here." He responds.
“Who would that lucky person be?” You ask, curious who the CO might be referring to. You think back to the town of Bastogne, the town a few klicks away, and all the people for him to choose from.
“I'm still not sure.” he shrugs, standing abruptly and moving away silently, leaving you puzzled and alone.
˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙
Christmas day had arrived grimly, the promise of being home by this day long forgotten and farfetched.
The Germans on the other side of the clearing were fortunately nice enough to halt the bombing for the day, leaving the front lines oddly quiet for the first time in weeks.
Despite this, morale wasn't very high. Nobody in the 506th wanted to be in the frozen-hell they were right then.
Standing and unable to withstand the boredom of your foxhole any longer you left to relieve yourself momentarily.
Upon standing, your limbs ached, stiff and sore from the cramped position you'd stayed in for multiple hours, and your feet numb while you stumbled the first few steps. You remembered Doc Roe's countless warnings to the 506th about trench foot. Something you wanted to be certain you wouldn't catch. Perhaps you should invest more time in moving about.
It didn't take long to finish your business, and you figured you ought to head back to the safety of your foxhole soon. Afterall, you never knew when the next shelling would occur, the Germans were unpredictable. You wouldn't doubt they'd go beyond cruelty and bomb the 506th on a day like today. And that was something you absolutely didn't want to be out of your foxhole for. You'd seen the destruction left in their wake countless times.
Your feet crunching loudly in the fresh snow was all you could think of as you retraced your steps back to the front lines. Along the way you passed a few E company members, smiling a little at them and wishing them a short ‘Merry Christmas’ as you trudged past.
Ahead, your empty foxhole beckoned and as you drew near your excitement at the small warmth it provided grew rapidly. You prepare to jump in, but pause at the sight of a small cardboard box nestled at the bottom. The peanut-coloured box appeared as vibrant as blood in the dull white and gray surroundings.
Jumping into your hole, you're careful not to crush the delicate box while you move into a sitting position, pulling it into your lap.
Curiosity consumes you as you open it carefully, revealing a small silver object, a thin wool blanket and a pristine white letter.,
Taking the necklace out you raise it to your face for examination. The pendant was long, and had a natural shimmering silver allure to it. At one end, a small, smooth heart was suspended by the lengthy yet elegant chain. It was beautiful. You gasped as you moved it around in your palm, a large smile pulling at your lips.
Carefully, you fastened the necklace around your neck, looking down to admire it settled against your collarbone once more. Not wasting any more time, you moved onto the next object. An army-issued blanket. Something the company should've been guaranteed before it came to Bastogne, but was never supplied. You took it out, taking care not to lose the letter you had yet to open. How did your mystery sender manage to get their hands on this? However they did it must've been tough, they were in demand everywhere. The material was wool, and you could almost imagine the warmth it provided.
After a short examination of the blanket you were eager to move to the last object, a letter. Grabbing the object and letting your fingers run over the grainy surface momentarily before pulling open the seal to reveal the neatly-folded contents.
Unfolding the letter you're stunned at the lack of words, but regardless begin reading;
Dear Sergeant,
I hope you enjoy these gifts. Merry Christmas.
Signed, Ronald C. Speirs.
Speirs got you these? Hardly containing your smile, you close the letter once more, slipping it into your pocket and getting out of your foxhole, leaving the blanket and box behind.
It took every ounce of strength you had to not run as fast as you could to his assigned tent, instead maintaining a brisk walk. However, something you couldn’t contain was the dopey smile that tugged itself onto your face as you moved, your heart pounding in your chest and your face flushed a bright scarlet.
As you drew near, your pace quickened ever so slightly, your mind urging you to move faster than your legs would allow. You were itching at the prospect of seeing him. Finally reaching the sepia coloured tent, it’s walls faded and worn from the harsh uses it had endured throughout the war, you say “Permission to enter, sir?” from the other side of the tent wall.
His husky voice answers from within the tent, allowing you entry immediately after your request. Without further ado, you step in, blinking to readjust your eyes. In the shadowed room, you make eye contact with Speirs. “I wanted to thank you for the gifts, sir.” You say, not quite sure how to properly thank him.
“Please, just call me Ron,” he corrects, smiling softly at you. A sight so beautiful and rare you can't help but stare in awe. He stands when you enter, maneuvering out from behind his desk.
“Then call me Y/n,” you counter, mirroring his smile.
After a moments pause where nothing is said, you resume, “Ron, do you mind me asking why?” You say hesitantly, unfamiliar with the use of his true name, seeming like all formalities were tossed aside, “Why me?”
He looked at you with an odd unnamed emotion, yet so familiar. It seems like a millenia passes before he replies, “I have admired you since we've met, Y/n.” He pauses to allow the words to sink in, watching your expression closely, “Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I've always been set on you. You drive me crazy. When you step into a room, you're all I can look at. Everything else is irrelevant. When you talk, your voice echoes in my ears all day like a mothers lullaby.
“I've never wanted another woman so badly as i've wanted you before. I didn't care for the dames of Eindhoven like most men. I wanted you. And only you. I've come to the realization I love you, and I couldn't wait another day for you to carry on, not knowing.” he stops to drink in your features before he allows himself to continue, “It's alright if you don't feel the same. I know how terrible the timing is. I can't believe I allowed myself to become so vulnerable in a state of war.”
Without missing a beat you reply, “I feel the same.”
Truthfully, you can hardly believe your ears. It's like a dream come true. You'd loved Ron since he'd done that daring act with Dog Company and the batteries, and you swear you could've felt your own heart stop when he leaped out of that trench and ran, exposed, into the battery, guns blazing. You'd heard the rumors about him too, but they didn't scare you. In fact, they almost drew you in closer, with hopes of unravelling them yourself.
Without even noticing it, you and Ron had begun moving closer to each other, pulled by some other-worldly gravitational force. Drawn to each other like a moth to flame.
When he was within reach, he lifted up his hand, cupping your cheek while the gap grew smaller yet, your faces hovering inches from each other, “Can I kiss you?” he asks, eyes flitting down to your lips only to return once more to your eyes.
You couldn't speak, only administering a nod before he closed the gap.
His lips tasted of lucky strikes, something you wouldn't have thought to expect at first, and they pressed against yours passionately, releasing his inner tension. Your lips moved against his in a synchronized dance, two lovers moving against each other like twin moons in the sky, orbiting the same center. Like two halves of a heartbeat, beating as one.
Reluctantly, he pulled away breathless, resting his forehead against yours.
“I've never wanted more than to kiss you,” he sighs, “I love you.”
“I love you more, Ronnie,” You whisper back
#hbowarsanta23#ronald speirs x f!reader#ronald speirs x reader#ronald speirs#dog company#band of brothers#hbo war#bob#easy company#iceman-kazansky#fanfic#band of brothers fic#bob fic#bob fanfic#band of brothers fanfic
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CHAPTER ONE: HELL IS A SANDY TOWN IN NORTH AFRICA
A/N: i’m so excited to present the first chapter of hiraeth! I really hope you guys love Winnie as much as I do! thank you all so much for the love <3
Word count: 1.9k
Content warnings: violence, swearing, reference to implied extreme violence (only before and after, no detailed description), probably historical inaccuracy
< prologue > - < next chapter >
The sand in Tobruk was different to the sand at the beach Winnie decided. In Tobruk, it was sharp. Small flecks leaving traces of dirt on her cheeks, specks of blood blooming against her skin. Her rucksack held diminished resources, her bandages covered in a layer of dust and grime. Her MRE supply dwindling every time the hot dessert was drowned under a blanket of night. Sometimes they had fires, but most of the time they were left to huddle together, utilising bodies for warmth.
Fires drew attention and attention drew bullets. Being surrounded on three of the four sides was relentless work, fighting and survival. Much more so when the fourth side was a small shipping dock. A dock that may seem irrelevant, but in the grand scheme of the war, that small little dock could change the course of the war in Europe.
Severely out numbered and surrounded, the Allies were forced to fight for mere inches of land. The Germans would not get to the dock. So they dug in. Put the hospital underneath an old tree in the hardened sand, and rationed their food for months on end.
Silver marks littered her skin, scars showcasing her survival. Seven in total, the largest, one running from nose to cheek on her right side. In her fourth month in Tobruk, A small squad of German soldiers broke the line, guns raised and bayonets fastened. They charged Winnie and her squad, a small group watching the line. Their guns lay forgotten next to their game of cards, as they fought with fists and rocks.
Winnie was pinned. An arm against her neck, knife to cheek. Squirming against the hot sand as her cheeks flush with exertion. He flicks a look down her face, ah a woman- a girl. Such a shame that a pretty thing like you is stuck in such a horrible place. His breath was hot against her skin as she pushed against him, his arms much more refined than that of a sixteen year old girl. Tell me, how do they treat a pretty thing like you? She spits, he flinches back, a snarl on his lips. stupid bitch he growls, as he presses down on her neck, his forearm cutting off air supply. He slices the knife down, the top of her nose to her right cheek. Blood streams down her chin as she screams. She was going to die, afraid and pinned.
His arms move to pin hers above her head as she writhes and squirms against it. Her chest heaved, eyes darting frantically. out. she needed to get out. The sting of the blade cutting through flesh holds no place in her mind. out. out. out. His free arm holds her face in a loose grip, he spits out threats of a slow death and insults.
As he moves the hand on her face towards her neck with a firm hand, and his face pressed near her ear, the world freezes. It’s just Winnie and the german soldier, and one of them would die tonight. Her arms can’t break free to reach the knife, his legs have caged hers down. So like a rabid dog, she bares teeth.
When the pounding in her ears becomes a soft ringing and her chest no longer racks with shuddered breaths. The metallic taste on her tongue drips from her chin. She looks down at her hands, shaking. His blood pools around him, shining in the reflection of the moon. i’m a monster. i’m a monster… or maybe a dog backed into a corner, forced to bare teeth and bite.
—
5th of August, 1942
With a gasp she shoots to a sitting position, the room blurry with sleep. Chest heaving Winnie swings her socked feet onto the ground, hands tangled in her hair. Her shirt sticks to her back although it’s cold and coming into winter.
Two days ago, Winnie was stationed at the Toccoa Georgia Base camp, where she would join the 2nd Battalion ,506th parachute infantry regiment, 101st division, easy company. She’s told they are going to be the best of the best. If you asked her, she would say they can’t be that good if they are yanks.
Today is the day. She meets her new platoon, new faces, same issues. Colonel Sink had graciously taken in the teen, assuring her commander in the ANZAC’s that she would fit right in, if she’s really as good as they say.
The morning wake up happened shortly after Winnie was dressed, packed and ready to go. Swinging her bag over her shoulder and grabbing her new yank hat. She made her way towards Colonel sinks office.
With a firm hand she knocks, straightening out her ever crooked collar
“Come in” the colonels gruff voice calls from behind the door
taking a shuddering breath, Winnie opens the door, walking in, standing with her hands behind her back. Frowning slightly at the odd looks she’s receiving
“Oh, right sorry” she mumbles, standing at attention.
As Colonel Sink gives her a salute in return she stands with her arms tucked behind her back. She shifts on her feet, picking at the skin around her nails.
“Colonel Sink, sir? i was asked to come and see you” she states hesitatingly “Winifred Hayes, your new-“
“I know who you are sergeant” the Colonel cuts her off. The older man pushes up on his desk to a stand, walking around to lean on the front of his desk, arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at her.
“Right. of course… sir” she answers quickly
“Do you know why you’re here Miss Hayes?” he asks firmly. Although older, and his hair more grey than brown, Colonel Sink held an aura of respect that was hard to not obey. Even someone like Winnie, who grew up in an informal setting, and called her previous leaders and CO’s various nicknames, knew that the man was someone to be respected. That’s not to say she held no respect for her previous CO’s, no. She respected them greatly, but the jump from Australian to American norms was a shock.
“To serve… sir?” Winnie stutters slightly, trying to remember that sir is used more consistent here. It was rather bothersome.
“Well i would hope so Miss Hayes” He answers with a light chuckle. “you are here because, you’re good.”
“Sir…?” Winnie frowns. Of course she was good.
“Never in all my years in the army have I heard of a woman, much less a girl, fighting in a war, to the extent you have, no less” He congratulates “And there ain’t much of you either! Look at you!” With a wheezy laugh the Colonel claps a hand over her shoulder
“Oh… well thank you… Sir” confused and quite frankly startled at the congratulations, Winnie picks up her bag, following Colonel Sink outside
“Now, don’t be too startled by your new CO. He’s tough, but i think you’ll fit right in with the men. Easy company is going to be our best” he explains, Winnie nodding along “Don’t expect him to go easy on you just ‘cause you’re a girl either, he’s gone treat you the same as the men”
The mans southern accent was quite odd. Winnie couldn’t place where it was from. Not that she knew much about southern accents
“Now, unfortunately we don’t have the space for a women’s only area, so you’re just gone have to figure it out with the men” Colonel Sink kept a firm grip on her shoulder as he walked towards, what Winnie assumes is her new company.
“Lieutenant Sobel, Winters” Colonel Sink returns the salute “This here is your new easy company member”
“…Sirs” Winnie salutes the two men, giving an awkward smile as they return it.
“Now i got some business to attend to, i trust she will be fine in your capable hands?” The Colonel finalises as he leaves
——
Winnie had never wanted the ground to swallow her whole more than she does right now.
She’s standing. In front of all of Easy company, as they stare at her. She can’t tell if it’s curiosity, hate or confusion.
“Men.” Sobel yells “Colonel Sink has decided that we deserved to be punished, in some form. At least that is the only reason i can think that a girl has been placed in our platoon”
Winnie pulls a face of disgust… or maybe it’s anger. Before she realises where she was and quickly stares blankly. An awkward silence had fallen over the group as she shifted her, rather heavy mind you, bag on her shoulder
“I expect each and every one of you to treat her” Sobel was glaring at her, she could feel the disgust in his eyes and words “how she deserves to be treated.”
Swallowing what she was sure was a string of curses Winnie feels a hand in her shoulder, Lieutenant Winters… was it?… And all the Easy men were gone. She had zoned out. again.
“Winifred Hayes was it?” The red headed man asked “Lieutenant Winters”
He held his hand out expectantly. She shook it firmly. Just like dad taught. Before being led away from the training ground
“Yes, although just Winnie is fine” with an appreciative smile she follows his lead “Only my grandmother calls me Winifred”
“Well just Winnie… Dick is also fine, when it’s not a formal setting of course” He smirked
“Of course. Wouldn’t want to upset a formal setting” Winnie answered with an awkward smile
“Let me grab that for you” Dick offered, reaching for her bag
“Oh… it’s really no worry, it’s probably pretty heavy” She mumbles as she rubbed the back of her neck
“I insist. It’s the least i could do after watching you stand in-front of the men like that” Instantly he took her bag from her shoulder “The men aren’t as bad as they look. I’m sure you’ll get along just fine… although many of them haven’t expected a girl at training”
“It’s fine. Not many people do” Winnie answers honestly, the steps to the barracks creaking under the weight of the two of them
The door creaks open, the shuffling inside the room freezing at the intrusion of the two new people, card games lay on various beds, feet kicked up with books and magazines being read. Instantly the men all stand to salute
“At ease gentlemen” Winters salutes back
The men fall back into a relaxed stance, staring… glaring? at Winnie. She gives an awkward smile.
“Gentlemen, this is Winnie Hayes, she’s new to Easy.” Winnie shifts on her feet “i expect you all to be kind to her, show her around. She’s one of us now, and she may just have some… wisdom to pass on”
Dick places her bag on an empty bed between two men, one a surly looking man with a sharp jaw, the other a red headed man who somehow had three people squashed onto his bed. The atmosphere only became more tense as Lieutenant Winters left, the door slamming behind him
“Where you from?” the surly man questioned, his accent was different to Colonel Sinks and Lieutenant Winters, it was more rough around the edges
“Why the fuck you wanna know?” She answers crossing her arms over her chest.
The surly man raises an eyebrow. great fucking going Winnie, piss off the first person you talk to. But to her surprise his lip quirks in a smile
“You got some bite to ya” he smirks.
She goes to answer as the door slams open again really should get that fixed. Sobel stands in the doorway, a glare on his face as he yells
“Get dressed we’re running Currahee”
A overall groan leaves the men after he leaves. Winnie just had one question…what the fuck was a currahee?
——
A/N: Winnie’s hatred for Americans will be explained! although it’s not a proper hatred
TAG LIST: @malarkgirlypop @footprintsinthesxnd @mads-weasley @bucky32557038ww2 @grumpy-liebgott @executethyself35
#hireath#hireath fic#hiraethoc#winnie hayes oc#winnie hayes#winnie#band of brothers#babe heffron#bandofbrothers#ronald speirs#dick winters#george luz#hbowar#eugene roe#band of brothers#donald malarkey#band of brothers fic
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Epiphany Pt. 9: Lover
Lewis Nixon x Reader
Masterlist
Series Masterlist
Inspo: Lover (First Dance Version): Taylor Swift
A/N: the awaited chapter is here!!! i hope y'all enjoy! this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!
Word Count: 5k
Summary: As (y/n) and Lew explore Paris, the city itself seems to push them together, and the city of love brings them together atop the Eiffel Tower in a beautiful culmination of the past few years.
(Y/n) woke up with the sun, its gentle rays filtering through her room’s curtains, casting a warm, golden hue on everything it touched. She let out a soft, tired yawn and gracefully extended her limbs, feeling a slight twinge as the mended muscles in her side protested at the movement. The wound, though healed, still sent stabs of discomfort whenever she exerted herself or took a breath too deeply.
A sigh escaped her, and she glanced at the clock by her bedside: 8:34 AM. Then, a wide, contented smile curved her lips as the memories of the incredible night spent with Lew danced in her mind. The magical evening had brought them even closer, and the potential of the day ahead filled her with excitement.
Throwing back the covers, she carefully swung her legs over the side of the bed, her heart already beating a little faster in anticipation. Clad in her PT shirt and shorts, she tiptoed to the hallway, steps light with excitement. As (y/n) knocked on Lew’s door, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjá vu. The last time she stood there, it was with a different kind of worry; a deep-rooted concern for his well-being. But today, it was all about the anticipation of the day ahead.
Expecting to find Nix either still asleep or in the process of waking up, she was surprised when he opened the door, fully dressed and ready for the day. She raised a brow in suspicion at the unexpected sight.
“Good morning,” he chirped, his gaze subtly trailing down her body to her bare legs before he seemed to catch himself, letting her in his room. It was almost an identical match to hers, right down to the less-than-appealing bright orange bedspread. She playfully plopped down on the mostly made-up bed.
“Where are you headed off to? I didn’t even think you’d be up,” she remarked, curiosity lacing her words.
Leaning against the closed door, he rolled his eyes, a light blush gracing his cheeks “Well, I have a big day planned for us, so we need to get an early start.”
(Y/n) looked at him with a mixture of surprise and amusement, her eyes narrowing. “Who are you, and what have you done with Lewis Nixon?”
He chuckled, moved closer to her and took her hand, leading her toward the door. “Go get ready and I’ll come get you in an hour.”
“What have you got planned, Lew?” She asked, a sense of anticipation building within her. Opening her door, she leaned against its frame. “Please tell me,” she begged, peeing up into his soft browns.
“You’ll just have to wait and see, (y/n/n),” he grinned mischievously. “Trust me, you’re gonna love it.”
Sighing with a fake pout, she entered her room, giving him a wary look.
”Go on,” Lew retorted, playfully gesturing for her to shut the door. “I’m not gonna tell you…yet.”
The twinkle in his eyes promised a day of adventure, and with the click of the door, she began running around getting ready. Excitement bubbled within her, and the thought of spending the whole day with Lew, exploring Paris, made her heart flutter. She quickly changed out of her PT gear and into her khaki service uniform, paired with a jacket.
In what felt like no time, she was ready and stood before the small mirror, adjusting her clothes with a smile. The longer she inspected her reflection, the more her smile fell. The memories of donning flattering dresses for dances and nights out with friends tugged at her heart.
A light knock on the door startled her from her thoughts, and she opened it to find Lew waiting outside holding a package, wearing his own khaki service uniform.
“Special delivery,” he grinned.
As (y/n) spotted the package in Nix’s hands, confusion danced in her eyes. She had no inkling of what could be inside. She hesitated for a moment, surprised by the unexpected gesture, then took the package from him with a warm but puzzled smile.
“Is this…for me?” she asked, turning the package over in her hands.
Lewis nodded, the corner of his lips quirking into a smile. “Open it.”
With a hint of skepticism, she moved to the bed and sat down. Her fingers traced the edges of the wrapping, feeling the paper under her touch. She slowly tore it open, revealing the lavish box within. As (y/n) opened the box, her eyes widened in surprise and delight. She gently lifted its contents from the box, a soft fabric flowing through her fingers.
It was the dress from the shop window.
The colors were beautiful, a blend of blues and greens, like that of the ocean on a clear day. It was absolutely beautiful, and she felt her heart skip a beat.
“How did you…?” she started, lost for words.
Leaning against the doorframe, he grinned. “A little bit of magic. I have my ways.”
“Oh, Lew,” she breathed, looking up at his with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. “This is…wow.”
“Try it on,” Lew encouraged gently, noting her hesitation.
Her voice was full of pure joy as she hugged him tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Feeling her excitement, Lew chuckled softly. It was a joy to see her so happy, and the sound of her laughter filled the room, making everything seem a little brighter. She pulled back slightly and planted a grateful kiss on his cheek. It was a soft touch that left a lingering warmth on his skin. He could feel the gentle press of her lips, a touch that seemed to linger for a moment longer.
Nix grinned down at her as she pulled away. “Go on,” he urged, nodding toward the bathroom.
She hurriedly went to change, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation. Slipping out of her boxy service uniform, she carefully slid into the dress. As she stood before the mirror, clad in the dress, her breath caught in her throat. It was a sight she hadn’t seen in years, a vision of femininity that had been suppressed for years. The dress draped over her frame gracefully, the fabric gently caressing her skin. Her eyes met her reflection, and for a moment, she was taken aback. It was her, and yet, it felt like she was seeing someone else. The woman in the mirror was strong, resilient, and beautiful. The dress, with its simple yet elegant design, accentuated her features, highlighting the curves and lines of her body.
Tears welled up in her eyes, reflecting the myriad of emotions swirling within her. It had been so long since she felt like a woman; feminine, delicate, and simply herself. The war had taken so much from her, including the chance to embrace her womanhood. But in this moment, in this dress, she felt a glimpse of it once more. She took a deep breath and attempted to zip up the back of the dress. Despite her efforts, she found it surprisingly difficult to do it on her own. The zipper seemed determined to elude her, mocking her efforts.
(Y/n) emerged from the bathroom, her steps tentative, but her face radiant with a newfound sense of confidence. Her hair was down, and her eyes shone with a captivating blend of excitement and nervousness. She stopped a few feet from him, allowing him to take her in. Nix’s eyes widened, and she couldn’t help but blush under his gaze. It was an unspoken compliment that made her feel more beautiful than she had in years.
Lew was momentarily struck by her beauty, a mixture of awe and adoration enveloping him. He had seen her in her uniform every day, but this was different; She looked like a vision, like a magnificent piece of art that hung in the Louvre. He stood up off the doorframe, a beaming smile gracing his face as he took in her appearance.
“Would you mind…uh…zipping me up?” she asked, a blush tinting her cheeks. It was a simple request, but it held a significance that made her heart flutter. For Lewis, her request set his heart racing. It was an intimate act, and he nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.
“Of course,” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady.
As she turned, her back exposed, he saw how the dress delicately revealed her skin. She brushed her hair gently to the side. (Y/n)’s skin was bare against the zipper, and Lew could feel his fingers trembling slightly with nervousness. He took a steadying breath, trying to focus on the task at hand.
His fingertips brushed against her back as began to pull the zipper up, his touch light and cautious, yet filled with a tenderness he couldn’t contain. The sensation of her bare skin beneath his fingers sent shivers down his spine, igniting a warmth that spread through him. Lew tried to keep his focus on the zipper, on the task at hand, but he couldn’t help being acutely aware of her presence and the intimacy of the moment.
As Nix finished zipping up her dress, he paused for a moment, taking in the sight before him. (Y/n) looked stunning, the dress accentuating her features in a way that made his breath catch. He felt a surge of pride that he had chosen something that made her smile and feel beautiful.
When she turned to face him, her cheeks dusted pink with a sheepish smile and he grinned back. “You look absolutely breathtaking,” he breathed, his voice laced with awe.
“Thank you, Lew,” she replied. “That means more to me than you know.”
Nix gently brushed a few strands of her (y/h/c) hair back from her face. His fingers were careful and tender, lightly grazing her skin, allowing her to feel their warmth. For a brief second, their eyes locked unspoken emotions passing between them like a silent conversation.
In that moment, it was as if time slowed down. She felt his touch, gentle and reassuring, and something more; a connection that stirred her. The intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on either of them.
He stepped back, breaking the gentle spell, and gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”
(Y/n) closed the door behind her with a wide smile. “Absolutely.”
As they made their way to the lobby, she noticed the bustling atmosphere of the hotel. Guests were going about their day, the sound of chatter and laughter filling the air. There was a certain charm to it, one that she’d come to associate with the beautiful city.
Lew held the door for her as they stepped out into the lively Parisian streets. It was a beautiful morning, the city alive despite how desolate the night before had been. The crisp air carried the faint smell of coffee and pastries, mixing with the sounds of distant street musicians and the lively chatter of the bustling city.
“So what’s first on the agenda?” She asked, her eyes shining with curiosity.
He beamed, tucking his arm through hers as they strolled down the street. “Breakfast.”
(Y/n) chucked, feeling pure joy as they wandered through the vibrant streets, looking for the perfect café to start their adventure.
After a hearty breakfast and several cups of coffee to fuel them for the day, (y/n) and Lewis set out for the day’s adventures. Lew guided her through the cobbled streets, past charming little shops, cafés, and artistic displays. The world seemed to be at ease, the Eiffel Tower standing tall in the distance.
As they walked, he shared stories of the city, tales of its history, art, and its resilience under Nazi occupation. She listened intently, captivated by both the tales and the storyteller himself. Every once in a while, he’d move his hand to her waist to direct her through a crowd, and each time, a gentle flutter danced in her chest.
They found themselves in Montmartre, a place seemingly frozen in time with its cobbled streets and rustic buildings. It was there that they stumbled upon a charming art gallery tucked away on a cobblestone side street. Sharing an intrigued look, they decided to step inside.
Lew’s eyes were drawn to a particular piece that captured his attention: a painting of Paris at night. The artist had beautifully blended dark blues and purples to form the backdrop of the city with twinkling lights like stars on the ground. The Eiffel Tower stood tall, a beacon of bright elegance against the dark canvas.
“Look at his,” he said, gesturing toward the work.
(Y/n) stared at the piece in wonder. “I don’t know how people are so talented.”
“Me neither.”
As they stood before the painting, they became captivated by the way the artist had recreated the magic of Paris after dark. It was a beautiful representation of the city and echoing its vibrant nightlife. The gallery held many such treasures, each reflecting the essence of the city they had grown to love. After a few hours of perusing the artwork and exploring, Lewis led them to their next stop.
In the heart of Paris, Notre Dame Cathedral stood as a timeless testament to history and faith. (Y/n) and Lew approached the iconic structure, awestruck by its intricate details and towering spires.
They stepped into the cool, dim interior, and were greeted by the hushed whispers of other visitors. Rays of sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the worn wooden pews and mosaic floor.
“This is my mother’s favorite,” Nix spoke, his voice hushed. “She loved to come here and pray.”
(Y/n) watched his eyes slowly rise to the cross at the front of the sanctuary as he continued quietly. “She needs it being married to my father.”
Sliding his arm from hers, she wrapped her hand around his bicep, squeezing softly in a gesture that told him she was there. “We’d sometimes come here just to get away. She never told Blanche and I, but we knew.”
Their footsteps echoed through the ancient halls as they slowly walked down the aisle. (Y/n) could sense the weight of Lew’s memories as he revisited the cathedral. She was honored to be allowed into a part of his life that was incredibly personal, but also heartbroken that he had such memories.
“I’m sorry,” (y/n) said gently, her voice filled with empathy.
He shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. “Visiting here makes me feel close to her. I miss her more than I thought I would. Her and Blanche both.”
They reached the side chapel, its walls adorned with flickering candles and well-worn prayer benches. Lew paused, gazing at a flickering candle as if lost in thought.
“When I visited alone, sometimes I’d light a candle for her,” he continued, his voice still soft. “I’d pray for her peace, for our family.”
(Y/n) watched the flame, feeling incredible respect for the woman who shaped him into the man he was today; the man she’d fallen in love with. She imagined the strength it must have taken for Lew’s mother to endure and protect her children.
“Your mother sounds like an incredible woman,” she murmured.
He nodded, a distant look in his eyes. “She is. Back home, she’s the national vice-president of the AWVS.”
(Y/n)’s eyes widened slightly. “Wow. That’s amazing.”
Looking down at her, he grinned, a glint of love in his eyes. “So are you,” he whispered as he gently hooked his arm around hers began leading them to the exit.
(Y/n)’s face warmed as they stepped out into the chilly Parisian air, and Lew took a deep breath, exhaling a sense of relief. “(Y/n), thank you.”
“For what?” she asked.
“For being there.”
She gently squeezed his arm, offering a somforting smile. “Always.”
It was around noon by the time they made their way back to the main street after visiting the beautiful Luxembourg gardens. Amidst the lively street scene, (y/n) noticed a quaint bookshop, its windows decorated with book covers and handwritten signs announcing what she guessed were the latest arrivals.
She gasped softly, her eyes brightening with excitement as she pulled on Nix’s arm. “Lew, look at that bookshop! Can we go in?”
He smiled at her eagerness. “Lead the way, corporal.”
They stepped into the bookshop, and (y/n) felt a rush of warmth and nostalgia. The scent of old and new books mingled, and the soft lighting created a cozy atmosphere. Wooden shelved reached the ceiling, packed with books of varying sizes, colors, and languages.
“This is what I imagine heaven is like,” (y/n) whispered, her eyes alight with glee.
Her eyes danced with delight as she roamed the aisles, trailing her fingers over the spines of the books. Lew watched her, admiring the way her face lit up with each new discovery, her enthusiasm infectious. He might not be an avid reader, but seeing her so joyful made his heart swell. As she continued to explore the shelves, Lewis found himself pulled into her enthusiasm. He picked up a few books that seemed interesting to him, mostly based on historical events and memoirs.
As they browsed through the shelves, they would occasionally pick out a book that caught their eye, sharing it with the other. They read aloud interesting excerpts, laughing or pondering over the words.They spent a good amount of time immersed in the shelves, exchanging stories and good conversation. Sometimes, their fingers brushed against each other, causing a blush to creep onto their faces.
Lew was engrossed in the books before him as (y/n) browsed the neighboring bookshelf. She couldn’t help but steal glances at the man she was completely in love with. His focused expression hinted at the stories and emotions the books invoked within him. Fascinated by the glint in his eye and the subtle smile gracing hi lips, (y/n) drifted closer to him.
Lew’s deep boice pulled her from her thoughts, his words tinged with excitement. “Hey, (y/n). I think you’ll like this one,” he called, holding up a slightly worn book with a dark red cover.
Her eyes widened in amazement as she read the title,”Roméo et Juliette.” A gasp of delight escaped her lips. “No way! And it’s in French!” she exclaimed. “I don’t speak French, but I have to have this.”
She watched as Nix smiled, the affection in his gaze not lost on her. “Mon cœur a-t-il aimé jusqu'à présent?” he began, the words rolling off his tongue beautifully. renoncez-y, vue! Car je n'ai jamais vu la vraie beauté jusqu'à cette nuit.”
Entranced by his almost perfect french, she listened intently as his gaze remained on her. The way he looked at her made her feel cherished and appreciated, as if she were the most beautiful story in this quaint bookstore.
“What does it mean?” she asked softly, her voice unsteady under his gaze.
Lew shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face. “It’s a quote from Romeo and Juliet, but I can’t remember which part.”
(Y/n) raised a speculative eyebrow as amusement danced in her eyes. “If you say so,” she paused, grabbing the book from his hand. “I’m gonna get this.”
Little did she know that he knew exactly what he’d said.
“Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For i ne’er saw true beauty till this night.”
Later That Night:
The city was awash with the golden hues of twilight, slowly surrendering to the incandescent glow of a thousand streetlights. (Y/n) and Lewis strolled arm in arm down a broad, bustling street, their breath visible in the cold evening air, drawing them closer together in search of warmth. A musician serenaded the area with the sweet melodies of his violin from a nearby street corner. The couple walked in silence. It was welcome, but (y/n) decided to break it with a question.
“So,” she began softly, the night breeze carrying her words gently into the air. “What do you think you’ll do when we finally go home?”
Lew looked down at her, the soft glow of the streetlights playing across his features. An indiscernible expression passed over his face as he carefully chose his words. “I honestly don’t know,” he replied, hiding his true desire. “I think I’m going to offer Dick a position to work for me at the Nitration Works.”
In truth, he knew exactly what he wanted to do when he got home. He wanted to marry the woman in front of him, to start a life with her, to build a future together. But those words remained unsaid, guarded in his heart as he waited for the right moment to reveal them.
Her thoughtful gaze met his, and a playful grin tugged at her lips. “What if someone else happened to be looking for a job? Someone like your best friend?
Lew chuckled, masking the way his heart jolted at the suggestion. “Ehh,” he shrugged, his expression light-hearted. “Harry’s gonna marry Kitty the second we get back, so-”
(Y/n) mockingly scoffed, releasing his arm and stepping back, feigning offense. “Shut up! You’re such a-”
But her rebuke was halted as he gently drew her back toward him, his hand resting warmly on her waist, bringing her almost flush against his chest. In that moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, and a wave of shudders passed through her.
“-Wonderful human being?” He finished, a knowing glint in his eyes and a touch of mischief in his voice. They stood close, their breaths mingling in the chilly air. “I think something can be arranged. I do know the owners, after all.”
“You wouldn’t get tired of me?” (Y/n) mumbled, feeling his warm breath on her face, the possibility both thrilling and nerve-wracking.
His eyes locked onto hers, seeing a future reflected in their depths. “Never. I’ll never get tired of you, (y/n/n).”
A tender smile crept across her lips, her heart pulsating with a mixture of excitement and affection. “Well,” she softly murmured, laying a gentle hand on his chest. “I’m glad that’s settled, then.”
“Good,” he whispered, his voice smooth as honey. ”Look up.”
(Y/n) glanced at him briefly before lifting her gaze to follow his. Her eyes widened at the sight of the Eiffel Tower before her and how it seemingly touched the clouds.
“Wow,” she breathed, the wonder and awe evident in her voice as she took in the sight. “It’s more beautiful than I could ever imagine.”
Lew’s eyes softened as he looked at her, a smile gracing his features. He gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “More than words can describe.”
Her awestruck gaze shifted to him, and he turned and held his hand out for her, the other gesturing toward the tower’s entrance. “Shall we?”
Nodding, she took his hand, intertwining their fingers softly, a heat spreading up her arm at the contact. Together, they made their way toward the entrance, anticipation in the air as they boarded the lift and ascended the tower. The iron structure offered a breathtaking view of Paris, like a million stars scattered across the earth. The Seine River glimmered below, winding its way through the heart of the city.
Reaching the topmost platform, they exited the lift and icy wind hit their faces. (Y/n) instinctively turned into Lew, and he wrapped an arm around her waist carefully, pulling her into his side. They made their way to the railing and leaned against it, taking in the panorama before them. At the top of the tower, amidst the twinkling lights of Paris, the air was charged with expectation, and the city below them a dreamy canvas where romance seemed to linger in every corner.
“It’s like a sea of lights,” (y/n) marveled, her voice tinged with wonder.
Lew nodded, captivated by her. “It never gets old.”
They stood there holding the other close, lost in the beauty of the scene. The night seemed to stretch endlessly, time freezing as they reveled in the magic of the moment. After a while, Lew looked down at her in his arms, his gaze soft.
“You know,” he began, voice gentle. “Today has been one of the best days I’ve ever had.”
She smiled, the moment washing over her like a warm embrace. “Me too, Lewis. There’s no place I’d rather be.”
This was it.
Lew hesitated for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before turning to face her and taking her hand in his. “(Y/n), you’re the most important person in my life.”
When you got hit,” he continued, his voice strained but steady as he cleared his throat. “I realized that I can’t live without you. When you were gone, I-” His voice trailed off, a lump forming in his throat as he grappled with the memories of that moment.
(Y/n) stood in front of him, her breath held and heart thundering in her chest. The gravity of his words sank in, and she searched his eyes, finding a vulnerability she’d glimpsed only once before: the moment she lay bleeding out before him as he begged her to stay awake. She couldn’t bear to hear more and her heart urged her to act. So, before he could continue, a surge of courage and longing flowed through her. She slid her hand to the nape of his neck and pulled him down toward her slowly. Lew then tugged her tightly against him, her body fitting perfectly into his embrace. The warmth of her presence, the scent of her hair, and the beating of her heart against his chest fueled the intensity of the moment.
As their lips met, it was an electric collision of emotions. Passion surged through their veins, a fierce and tender connection that ignited a fire within them. Her lips were soft and yielding as Lew fervently deepened the kiss, fueled by years of unvoiced affection. He slid his hand up her waist, feeling the curve of her body. His fingers gently cupped her jaw, tilting her head for a deeper connection.
(Y/n) responded in kind, her arms wrapped around him, pulling him impossibly closer. Her hand slid into his hair, fingers intertwining with the soft strands. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath her touch, matching the tempo of her own.
As they reluctantly pulled away, their breathless pants mingled in the cold night air creating a visible mist. Their lips tingled, the echoes of the kiss lingering. Nix could feel his heart racing, an adrenaline-fueled excitement that made him momentarily forget the cold. He smiled, his cheeks flushed with a mix of cold air and warmth from their embrace.
“Wow.” he managed to say, breathless and amazed.
(Y/n) laughed, a delightful sound that filled the space around them. “Yeah, wow,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with joy and love.
They stood there, caught in a bubble of euphoria, their laughter ringing in the Parisian night. The world below seemed to carry on, but for that moment, it was just the two of them, wrapped up in the magic of the Eiffel Tower.
Lewis brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch gentle and affectionate. “I’ve wanted to do that for years, you know. You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice filled with admiration.
Blushing, (y/n)’s smile widened. “I’ve been waiting for you to do that for years,” she teased, her fingers tracing patterns on his coat.
“What?” He asked in disbelief. “I didn’t know that!”
She shrugged. “Well, for an intelligence officer, you can be clueless.”
Smirking, he brought her close once more, their foreheads touching. “I love you. More than anything,” he whispered. His hand, warm and gentle, cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing circles as if to memorize every contour.
(Y/n) smiled, a radiant expression that illuminated the darkness around them. “I love you, too,” she responded, her voice tender, as if afraid this might still be a dream.
The years of unspoken feelings, the shared laughter, the late-night conversations…they had all led to this moment. The Eiffel Tower, with all its history and romantic lore, bore witness to the birth of their love story.
Their lips met again, softer this time, a gentle affirmation of their confessions. It was a kiss that spoke of promises and futures. Nix let his hand fall from her cheek to her waist, pulling her close in a tender embrace.
(Y/n) rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It was a comforting rhythm, a reminder that they had crossed the line they’d been wanting for the longest time.
“I never want this moment to end,” Lew whispered, his voice a tender murmur.
She looked up at him, her eyes shining with love and a tinge of sadness. “Me neither. I wish we could always be this close.”
He nodded, a sense of completeness settling in his heart. The view of Paris below them was still breathtaking, but it paled in comparison to their love, which encompassed their world, lighting it in a dazzling haze.
(Y/n) gasped suddenly, the sound echoing in the cold air and joltingLew from his thoughts. He looked at her, concern furrowing his brow. “What?” He asked, eyes widening with a mix of surprise and worry.
“Is this why Dick gave us the passes?” She asked, amusement filling her voice.
Nix’s laughter joined the chorus of the Parisian night, a hearty sound that seemed to reverberate through the beams of the tower itself. He found himself shrugging, an innocent look on his face. “Maybe,” he admitted, mischief floating in his eyes.
Tag List: @softguarnere @mrsgeorgeluz @flowers-and-fichte @inglourious-imagines @peggyvan @rebeccapearson @hxad-ovxr-hxart @merriell-allesandro-shelton @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @titiglt @stvrkdream @multifandomfanfic @starlordsatellite @blvestxr @iceman-kazansky
message or comment if you want to be added to the tag list!!
#band od brothers#mads' rambles#mads fandoms#band of brothers x reader#band of brothers#band of brothers imagine#lewis nixon#band of brothers fanfic#easy company#band of brothers imagines#hbo war#mads' writing mania#mads' fandoms#easy company imagines#easy company x reader#easy company x y/n#band of brothers series#band of brothers fic#dick winters#carwood lipton#richard winters#lewis nixon fluff#lewis nixon imagines#lewis nixon imagine#lewis nixon x reader#lewis nixon angst#lewis nixon x reader angst#damian lewis#lewis nixon hurt/comfort#nix x reader
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Denouement
noun
the final part of a play, film, or narrative in which the strands of the plot are drawn together and matters are explained or resolved.
For the past month I have finally decided to start writing my first ever fic! The idea for this story has been floating around in me head ever since I first started watching band of brothers.
I am currently working on cutting out some ( a lot) of spelling mistakes and fixing some plotholes. I plan on posting the first chapter of this 2 part fic somewhere this week! But just to give you a little hind as to what the vibe will be I made this little moodboard ;)
#band of brothers#hbo war#band of brothers moodboard#bandofbrothersagainstpigeons#david webster#band of brothers fic
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for some reason i can't explain
i know saint peter won't call my name
nothing that lives, lives forever - an immortal soldier!alton more au
(1.1k of snippets from my old guard(ish) au where alton more is old, too old, and has been living and fighting far longer than anyone should. full description/other thoughts at the bottom. tw: blood, violence, mentions of death)
Alton clicked the lighter closed, running a thumb over the silver case. The night was warm, sticky in a way that he never could get used to. He sucked in a breath from the cheap cigarette, letting his head fall back against the rough side of the barracks.
It was quiet. Typically, there would be no end to the commotion coming from the small building, one of many that littered Camp Toccoa. The wall of sound was ever-present, no matter if it was shouting or laughing or snoring. But whatever the cause, there was always noise.
No matter if it was a blanket of noise he knew well, unchanging except for the language and the scenery. Soldiers are soldiers, and some things are a constant. It could almost be comforting, if it didn’t also mean that the need for soldiers was a constant as well.
However, tonight was a Saturday, and it was one of the few weekends that Sobel had allowed Easy the use of their weekend passes. Almost every man in the company had jumped at the chance to get off base, to travel home if they could and spend time with loved ones. The ones with farther-flung hometowns had spirited off to Atlanta, happy to spend their time drinking and dancing and fucking instead of slogging through another run, three miles up, three miles down.
Normally, Alton would have joined them in their carousing - it was easier to pass the time with the effortless camaraderie built during a training camp than bored and alone.
But today had been a bad day. The sound of swords and the shift of sand beneath his feet followed him out of his nightmares, the humid summer of Georgia morphing itself into the baking, dry heat of the desert.
His shouts must have been real, because when a hand came to shake him out of his dream, the first face he saw was not that of a grouchy NCO, but of a blood-caked Saracen, eyes alight with righteous fury.
Alton didn’t think. He had grabbed the knife from under his pillow, an old thing that had been sharpened more times than he could begin to count, and was on the man in less than a breath, pressing the blade into the side of his neck. The familiar thrum of blood beat against his fingertips, the grit of sand scratched his gums. He knew what he had to do, had done it a thousand times, a thousand thousand times, what was a little more bloodshed spilled across his feet-
Alton had blinked, and came to himself in a rush.
Instead of an unnamed Saracen, the ashen face of Johnny Martin stared up at him, eyes wide behind the knife.
Alton drew back his hand, retreating almost as quick as he had lunged earlier. He mumbled a quick curse and apology as he stepped out of arm’s reach from the man. It wasn’t until Martin’s eyes widened even farther that Alton realized his tongue was slipping out Arabic of all things.
Usually, Alton was better about remembering himself, who he was almost as important as where he was. But for whatever reason, his demons had decided to catch up with him that night.
After a quick smile and some quip about the Krauts in his dreams, he managed to wave an only-slightly-mollified Martin off. The shorter man apparently hadn’t forgotten it though, if his watchful eyes during chow that morning were anything to go by.
Alton was just glad that no one else was awake to see it, at least. That was the last thing he needed.
And so, instead of joining in on a weekend of broads and booze, Alton found himself waving away the invitation by an eager Smokey and bemused Alley. When the horde made their way out of the barracks, fantasizing in bawdy terms about their planned misadventures, he felt like he could breathe easy.
Fucking finally.
~~
Alton took another drag from the cigarette. He watched the smoke curl, up and up until it faded into nothing amongst the darkening sky.
The lighter was a welcome weight in his hand, grounding him to this time, this life.
The design was worn by now, details barely visible after a half century of worrying. It still managed to amaze him, sometimes, what people could do with the smallest of canvases. Alton didn’t feel the same wonder however, wasn’t as mesmerized by the beauty man could create as he once was.
But in the quiet moments, he could still appreciate the time some French craftsman took to transform a hunk of metal into a small token carried around by a dead man.
Luz had spied the lighter one weekend, and laughed at him for using something so old-fashioned. Alton just shrugged, not caring to admit that he was still getting used to having a light at his fingertips. It wasn’t all that long ago when he was still lighting a pipe with a flintlock pistol, and not so long before that when he would carry around a flint and steel.
Time was passing all the more quickly these days, technologies changing and advancing, and everyone was obsessed with needing things to be quicker, cheaper, simpler. Alton scoffed. He could hardly find it in him to care.
He glanced down at the lighter in his hand, shifting it back and forth in a practiced motion and watched as the light skittered across the sides.
It had shown flowers, once. A veritable garden of carnations, daffodils, and lilies of the valley, with leaves spilling across the front panel onto the back. They represent good fortune, he was told. Good fortune, luck, and hope.
When the merchant described it to him, eyes ablaze with a passion known only to those with wares to sell, Alton didn’t try to hide the snort that escaped his throat.
Fortune and Luck had abandoned him long ago, and hadn’t returned since waking up in a battlefield abandoned by all but the dead, sword in his chest and blood in his mouth.
And what the fuck was Alton supposed to do with hope?
It was the quote on the back that had caught his eye, all those years ago in a street market in Reims. The beveled edges had faded with time, the familiar letters Alton traced were more memory by now than any physical mark. Une vie honorable est une vie éternelle.
An honorable life is an eternal life.
Alton couldn’t help but stare at the message, both then and now. He hated that goddamn word. Immortal. Unending. Eternal.
They were such flowery words, used by people who craved what they couldn’t have, what they shouldn’t. The romanticized idea of the everlasting, the fountain of youth, the gift of life! Alton was sick of it.
This wasn’t life. He was a fucking dead man walking.
And he sure as hell didn’t do anything honorable to deserve it.
months ago, while thinking about the absolute insanity of the almost...cavalier? attitude we see alton more have over the course of the series, an idea hit my brain: what if there was a reason nothing seemed to phase him - not panzers, not being a breath away from a car wreck, not bastogne, not speirs?
what if this wasn't his first war?
that thought spiraled me into a minor insanity that is this: my immortal soldier!alton more au, loosely inspired by the movie the old guard (2020). the idea is that, once upon a time, there was a soldier in a land many centuries ago. one day, he died in battle. and then, he woke up. and then he died. and then he woke up.
over, and over. drawn to countless battles, conflicts, and wars, each one etching itself into the core of his soul. a never-ending cycle...until one sweltering summer, where he found himself at a training camp at the foot of a mountain.
anyways.
at some point, i plan on writing this as a full story, but that is admittedly a long ways away. however, in celebration of alton more's birthday today, i wanted to post my favorite scene that i've written for this au! it's set sometime at the beginning of the story, in the early days of camp toccoa. mostly, it's just a character study of this version of alton more.
hope you enjoyed! and of course - happy birthday alton more!
(song insp.)
taglist: @sweetxvanixlla @coco-bean-1218 @bucky32557038ww2 @georgieluz @samwinchesterslostshoe @xxluckystrike @next-autopsy @ronald-speirs @land-sh @ronsparky @panzershrike-pretz @theredrenard @kyellin
#happy alton more day!#holy shit im actually posting this...i've been sitting on it for MONTHS#but YEAH its just...the gothic romanticism about the physical embodiment of war and soldiers and the concept of death you know??#what it means to feel and to live and to connect to those around you when it all feels so fleeting#fleeting not just due to the nature of war but also the nature of immortality#or something#...look i have a lot of thoughts about this story okay#it kills me#its also known in my brain as the “how immortal soldier!alton more made friends” story#because literally thats it thats the plot#OH WAIT did i forget to mention that speirs is also an immortal soldier in this story??#oh yeah thats the best fucking bit - they met like centuries and centuries ago on the wrong ends of one of the various punic wars#(where speirs was known back then as...wait for it...TERTIUS)#its good goddamn shit okay#also explains why alton is so fucking unflinching towards speirs at any given point and why they were so petty about the photo albums#ANYWAYS if anyone wants to hear more about this!! come stop on by!!!#also yes the title is a reference to the old guard#as is the reference to the siege of jerusalem which is where joe and nicky met#immortal soldier!alton more#alton more#easy company#band of brothers fic#mine#band of brothers#bofb#hbowar#em's moodboards#em writes#jesus christ i guess that's a tag now#alright here we go out into the void
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Flyboys and Flirting
I had a chat with @shoshiwrites earlier this week after seeing this photo of Callum Turner in a turtleneck (thanks @hogans-heroes for doing God's work.) I blame her entirely for my Bucky Egan obsession. Like Ellen, I am not one to like the bad boys, but there is something about him and his character development during Masters of the Air that got to me. I tagged the photo with something like Chuck wouldn't mind Ellen taking of her sunglasses to check Bucky out, and Shoshi said no one deserves to look that good in a turtleneck. Based on our chat, here's a little fun one-off I wrote about Colonel Egan stopping by the tobacco store.
San Francisco
October 1957
Afternoons were usually quiet in the shop, a good chance to catch up on pesky tasks like organizing receipts for the accountant. He called Chuck last week, and Ellen saw the headache start behind Chuck’s eyes. Chuck hated anything to do with taxes.
She decided to get a babysitter for Friday and come into the shop for the day. They’d get everything sorted and then go out for dinner, just the two of them, as a reward for a solid day’s work.
They were in the back room, Chuck at the desk and Ellen perched on the counter next to the sink going over August’s purchases, when the bell above the front door rang.
Chuck sighed and rubbed his temple.
“You keep working. I’ll go out front,” she said as she hopped down, giving his shoulder a squeeze before walking out into the store.
Her eyes widened at what she saw. She forced her mouth to remain closed though her jaw wanted to drop to the floor.
A curly-haired man with a mustache, aviators, and a bomber jacket, looking better in a turtleneck than any man had a right to, stood in front of the high-end cigars. He must have heard her footsteps, because he looked her way, took off the sunglasses, and flashed her a smile, a smile she knew he put on for everyone and had nothing to do with her.
This was a Bad Boy.
Ellen never had gone for the Bad Boys. She’d always liked the honor roll students, the boys next door. She suspected Chuck had gone through a Bad Boy stage, but by the time she met him, he owned the store and shaved every morning and parted his hair just so and was always on time to everything.
Every once in a while, she wondered what it would have been like to be with a Bad Boy, the boy who kept her out past curfew or had a motorcycle or had a mustache that normally didn’t do anything for her but made her hot and bothered.
She congratulated herself on wearing a pencil skirt and heels today instead of her usual shirtwaist dress and flats.
“Can I help you?” she asked calmly as she walked toward him.
“Yes, I think you can,” he said slowly, still smiling. “I should introduce myself. Colonel John Egan, United States Air Force.”
“Ellen Grant, co-owner of this store,” she said, shaking his hand. “Cigars, I see. What flavor are you looking for today?”
“Perhaps you can explain my options,” he said.
Despite whatever game they were in the middle of, she wouldn’t play dumb. She went through what made each cigar different, whether they were flavored with sweet Mexican vanilla or spicy Indian pepper, how each one was rolled slightly differently and had different shapes and filters, affecting their taste.
“Which one is calling you? Sweet or spicy?” she asked coyly, barely believing those words came out of her mouth.
“A little bit of both, I would say.” He lifted his eyebrows just a bit. “Let’s take a box of each.”
They walked over to the counter.
“I just flew into Hamilton Air Force Base last night for meetings. I’m sure my colleagues will enjoy these tonight,” he said.
“I’m sure they will,” Ellen agreed. “Any cigarettes? Luckies or Chesterfields?”
He looked at her quizzically. “Luckies. How did you know?”
She laughed. “It’s my business. But for most officers, it’s one or the other.” She rang up two packs.
They made small talk for a few minutes, about the store and his Pentagon desk job, but mostly about flying.
“You seem to know a lot about planes,” he said. He looked down at her finger, the one with the diamond ring on it. “Is your … co-owner a pilot?”
“Well, he was in planes, but he didn’t fly them. A paratrooper,” she explained.
He looked impressed. “The 82nd?” he asked.
“No!” Ellen almost shouted. “The 101st.”
“Sorry,” John apologized.
“You should be. Those guys in the 82nd were a bunch of amateurs.” She grinned as she handed him the bag.
“Well,” he said, a little deflated at the prospect of leaving, “This has been a delight. Thank you, Mrs. Grant.”
And with that, the spell was over.
“Likewise, Colonel Egan. Enjoy your cigars and the rest of your trip.”
He smiled, nodded, and walked out the door without a second glance.
Ellen turned around to walk into the back room when she saw Chuck, leaning against the wall, arms folded on his chest with an amused look on his face.
“What?” she innocently asked as she walked past him.
“You were flirting with that flyboy,” Chuck pointed out.
“I was not!” Ellen could barely keep a straight face.
Chuck couldn’t, and he laughed out loud. “I heard the whole thing. God, it’s so predictable. All it takes is a pair of fancy sunglasses and a leather jacket and all the girls fall for it.” He shook his head. “Here I was thinking my wife would be better than that.”
“Oh,” she said, closing the gap between them and putting her hands on his shoulders. “Are you jealous?”
“Of that guy?” he asked incredulously. “Please.”
Ellen tilted her head.
“I’m not jealous, but nobody should look that good in a turtleneck,” he conceded.
She playfully hit him on the arm. “That’s what I thought!” she said.
“I’m not jealous,” he said again, grabbing her by her hips. “I’m the one who gets to do taxes with you and go out to dinner with you and go home with you,” He gave her a slow, sultry kiss. “When is the babysitter off duty?” he asked
“Nine o’clock. The kids should be asleep,” she sighed as he found the spot on her collarbone that she liked.
“I hope so.” His hands left her hips and roamed lower. “No, I’m not jealous of that guy who is going to be smoking cigars with the brass tonight while I get to be with you.”
“You know, you can be bad, when you want to be,” Ellen remarked.
“Very bad,” he agreed.
Ellen didn’t want a bad boy. She didn’t want a hotshot pilot with a mustache. But she liked knowing her clean cut, responsible husband who didn’t own a turtleneck could be bad if he wanted to be. That was enough for her.
#chuck grant#ellen thompson#chuck grant x oc#everything beautiful thing#masters of the air#john egan#bucky egan#masters of the air fic#band of brothers fic#turtlenecks#midcentury dads
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Rusty pt. 2 |Lewis Nixon|
---SMUT AHEAD--- 18+
Nixon knew better than to respond to her words with the force of every kiss he had stopped himself from planting on her full, pouted lips over the past three years. There were moments where he was so intoxicated (both figuratively and literally) by her that he thought he may reach his breaking point. Had he known there was a similar eagerness within her, this day may have come far sooner.
The way she looked up at him through her long lashes caused a tension in his lower abdomen that she would soon feel the result of, pressed so close against her form. He surveyed the room, taking inventory of just who in the company was even paying attention to the heat radiating from the pair of them in the center of the room. With a war won and a store of alcohol to last them years, they were little more than just furniture for the rest of them to oscillate around.
“Nina…” Nixon spoke gently, leaning forward so his lips were nearly against the shell of her ear. “Tell me I’m dreaming.”
She giggled at the softness of his breath on her skin, “meet me upstairs in five minutes.” When she moved away from him, he immediately felt the ghost of her against his body. There was not a single man in Easy Company, despite how chivalrous they had always been to her, that would not shoot off a toe to be in his position.
Five minutes was both five seconds and five lifetimes while he attempted to make his way naturally towards the doorway of the main room. Grateful for his tendency to disappear to a footlocker full of booze, he realized that it was not likely that many would notice his absence anyway. As he climbed the stairs, he wondered if there was going to be a moment where she would realize that it was him that she was taking to bed, not some other more decorated man from the Company. It was only when he missed a step at the top of the staircase that he reminded himself that wallowing could happen any other inebriated night of his life. Tonight, he steeled himself, he was going to get the girl.
Two light knocks on Nina’s bedroom door with the back of his knuckles was as coy as he could play it. When she said “come in” from behind the oak barrier, he found the knot in his stomach clench.
“Why do you look so pale, Nix?” Nina giggled. She was standing at the dresser in the bedroom, slowly unpinning her hair from its once meticulous place. As he watched each curl bounce free, he felt the heat in his neck and ears. The intimacy of watching a woman take down the trappings of pristine femininity to their natural state was something that had only occurred in his marital bedroom. Never before, never since.
He watched as she placed the pins in a trinket dish on the dresser, crossed the room in her bare feet, the line she drew in her stride slightly askew from the alcohol. He felt the effects the liquor had on himself as well, hopeful that it would not impede his performance--should he make it that far.
Nixon watched as Nina’s tongue wet her lips, watched as they parted into a sweet smile. She reached up and gently touched the hair at his forehead, tucking it back to the side. His eyes studied her face as if he was going to be tested on the slope of her nose, the freckles on her cheeks, the slight gap between her two front teeth, the scar in her right eyebrow.
“Kiss me,” she whispered. Her voice took on a tone he had never heard from her before. He had heard her scream, yell, cheer, and laugh, but the siren song he was hearing in that moment was something entirely new. As new as the flicker that darkened her eyes.
The moment Nixon leaned down to close the space between them, it was if every inch of self doubt had been resolved. The way she hummed against his mouth let him know that she was just as hungry for him as he had been for her. He reached up and held her jaw softly, his other hand tracing her back and down over her hips. She flicked the softness of her tongue into his eager mouth and he felt a twitch grow into a throb in the confines of his uniform. Never in his life had he felt himself light ablaze under the simplest of touches.
When Nina pulled back, she was breathless. Her swollen lips were parted, ghosts of red lipstick on both of their mouths. She gripped his shirt in a fist that loosened as she composed herself.
“Lew…” She breathed, it was only the second time she had ever used his first name, the first time it had been shortened by her affection for him.
“I can’t tell you how fucking long I’ve waited to do that,” his confession bubbled from his lips before he could tell her. Drunk on liquor or passion, he couldn’t tell where one stopped and the other began.
“Well, if you can’t tell me,” she breathed, reaching up and starting to unbutton his shirt with delicate fingers. She looked up into his eyes and smiled coyly, “can you show me?”
“Fuck,” he sighed as she ran her fingertips down over his chest, just the undershirt between them. “Absolutely.” He smiled, leaning down to kiss her deeply.
They worked together to get his shirt over his shoulders and onto the floor. His undershirt was soon after. Every muscle that she had watched move beneath his uniform was exposed. Every single one she had considered in her idle time over the last three years were soon to be hers to touch.
There was a beat between the two of them where he checked her eyes for any hesitation while his fingers gently toyed with the zipper at the back of her dress. She nodded, a small smile of appreciation at her lips. When he started to pull down the zipper, his fingertips traced over the exposed skin over her spine. Her skin erupted in goosebumps under his touch. She bit her lip and pulled her shoulders in as he worked to get the fabric down over her arms. With every piece of her that became more and more exposed, he felt his heart start to race.
There was a part of her that worried about the amount of women he had undressed and how the curves of her body compared. Before the war, there had only been one other man to peel away both physical and emotional layers to her to connect so deeply. She wondered if the significance of the fire they were dancing dangerously close to meant just as much to him. One thing was certain, she decided, Lewis Nixon’s hands were the only hands she wanted on her body from this moment forward.
When her dress hit the floor and she stood there, vulnerable, in front of him, Nixon felt something animalistic ignite in him. It took everything in him not to tear the remaining fabric from her body and cover every inch of her with his mouth. In attempts to avoid acting on this instinct, he met her lips in a deep, hungry kiss. He guided her backward toward the bed, her hands working deftly on the buckle of his belt. She groaned when her hand made contact with the anticipation growing in his pants. He sucked in a breath and bit playfully at her lower lip. He left a trail of eager kisses from her lips down over her jaw, feeling the giggle that resounded in her throat vibrating against his mouth.
When his pants hit the floor, he felt the immediate relief from the confines of the fabric. She toyed with the elastic of his boxers, watching him shudder in response. He reached up and tangled his hands in her hair, pulling her close for another kiss to distract her. If she got too handsy, he may not make it to the main event. When he kicked himself out of the legs of his pants, he reached around and skillfully unclasped her bra.
There was no sexy, coordinated way for Nina to get herself back onto the bed. As she crawled, Nixon admired her figure from behind, wondering what he had done in his lifetime to find himself this lucky. Unable to tally it, he shook away the thought and watched as she giggled, laying herself back on the pillows, her hair fanning out around her. Unconsciously, he adjusted the length in his boxers, pulled his socks from his feet, and followed her onto the bed.
“God,” he let his eyes dance over her in appraisal. “You’re incredible.”
Nina rolled her eyes, the heat in her cheeks was not foreign to her. Lewis Nixon had a way of making her flush pink that had been a noteworthy occurrence Easy had not let her forget. She often told them it was only his rank that made her nervous, not the man himself. But God, it was everything about him.
“So,” he leaned down and kissed her lips tenderly, “god,” he kissed her cheek, “damned,” he kissed her neck, “beautiful.” She giggled when he pressed the kiss to her shoulder, his hands cupped both of her breasts. When his thumbs simultaneously brushed against her nipples, she whimpered softly, arching up into his palms. Her hand gently, toyed with his hair, running her fingers back through it as he leaned down and took her nipple into his mouth. Slowly circling his tongue in an effort to elicit more gorgeous new sounds from her parted lips.
Nixon groaned as he worked his tongue, lips, teeth, and fingers over her exposed chest. At the same time, the placement of his body between her legs encouraged her hips to connect with his, calling forth a growl from his throat he had not anticipated. He was beginning to recognize the need he had for her was something wildly foreign and exciting to him. The fear that lingered in the back of his thoughts would have to be tended to in the moments following the plans he had to explore every inch of her body.
When he kissed down over her stomach, he started to feel her muscles tense in her abdomen under his lips. He looked up at her as he toyed with the waistband of her underwear, searching for permission. She bit her lip, eyebrows furrowed with concern.
“What is it?” He asked, gently placing a hand on her thigh. He traced a delicate pattern on her skin.
“I..” There was that pink in her cheeks he had often worked so hard for. He smiled gently and kissed her hip.
“You can talk to me,” he repositioned himself so that he was at eye level with her once more.
“I’ve never had anyone…” She nodded down toward her underwear, where Nixon idly was toying with the satin bow at the elastic. “Use their mouth.” Nixon’s eyebrows raised and he grinned. He leaned down and he kissed her temple gently, his hand reaching up and fingering a strand of her hair. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to…” He couldn’t help but let out a throaty laugh. He rolled on top of her, brushing his nose against hers, then his lips against hers. “You can’t make me do something I’ve spent half the damn war thinking about.” He captured her lips in an urgent kiss, his hand slithering down over her stomach and dipping confidently into her underwear. “Mmm,” he groaned, the moment his finger dipped into the heat between her legs. When she gasped, he caught it in a kiss, greedily swallowing every sound that he earned with the deft work of his fingers.
#fan fiction#fan fiction update#fanfic#fanfic update#band of brothers#BoB#band of brothers fic#band of brothers one shot#band of brothers imagine#band of brothers preference#band of brothers fan fiction#band of brothers fan fic#band of brothers fanfic#BoB Fanfic#BoB fan fiction#BoB fic#BoB one shot#BoB Smut#band of brothers smut#band of brothers smut fic#lewis nixon#lewis nixon fic#lewis nixon one shot#lewis nixon smut#hbo war#hbo war fic#hbo war smut
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More fic covers | More fic recs
I mentioned I made fic cover in a recent post and it reminded me that I'd meant to make one for SJTrinity's Band of Brothers fic: Under Thunder and Rain which is THE Webgott fic, as far as I'm concerned. I've reread it something like five time in the past three months, it's ridiculous. You should read it to.
More about my thought process under the cut, with some spoilers.
So, the entire fic is amazing, of course, but the scene that keeps standing up in my mind is the one in chapter 4, where David is about to sail away on the Tusitala and Joe tries to convince him not to. I love this scene, the vulnerability in both of them, the fact that they find each other, the fact that Joe doesn't realize that it's him David was looking for in the sea. (I know David compares himself to the Shark from the Frisco chapter, but to me his fight to catch said shark is also an excellent parallel of the way he constantly has to reel Joe in and then give him some slack before he breaks the line in his struggle.)
All this to say: I had to have the Tusitala on the cover, if only because if this boat could talk it would be able to tell the tale of how Joe and David finally stop struggling and come together for good. The rain, of course, is a reference to the title and the poem David writes Joe in chapter 5, but I still wanted a bright blue sky as the background because I feel like the vivid and peaceful color are a good contrast to the way they struggle to find their way to one another (and also it reminds me of Episode 10 of BOB, where the color is back in the world and it feels like everything should be alright, but Easy is still losing men and none of them is free of the weight of the war.
The title and author name being on pieces of paper is, of course, a nod to Joe's box full of David's letters and notes, which is also featured against the title card. I wanted watercolor of a bag of groceries for the upper left corner, to further reference that first note and the fact that we don't know how significant it is until the end of the story, because Joe keeps all his cards fucking close to the chest, even if he also betrays himself in his struggle.
(Full disclosure, on my latest rereads the bits that caught my brain were
the time David asks Joe if his future wife does have a smile to die for and Joe says "yeah, it's a great smile. Drives me nuts." While running a finger over David's lips
"He wouldn't add or take away a single thing, and the people who read that book would know how fucking lucky he had been, how he had fought against it and gotten it anyways, this symphony of a life.")
Unfortunately, I couldn't find any graphic on Canva that fit the style of the rest of the cover, so I got a pastry instead. I picked the croissant because, while not extremely sweet for a delicatessen, it's very buttery, and, well: "Copious amounts of sugar and butter clearly loosened him in a way even sex couldn't achieve, because when David came and stood beside him by the stove, Joe threw an arm around his shoulder and bumped their heads together, then playfully tried to wrestle him off his feet." which I feel is also a delightfully deep insight into Joe in general.
And last but not least: the transparent text is the last note David writes Joe in the fic, standing in as the last page of Joe's unwritten book of them.
#Band of Brothers#Band of Brothers fic#Webgott#Joe Liebgott#David Webster#HBO War fic#HBO War#Matt makes stuff#Fic cover#Fic rec#15n#20n
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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.
Tags: @georgieluz @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @allthingsimagines @bucky32557038ww2 @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt @1waveshortofashipwreck
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It's Better This Way | Part Two
It's Better This Way Masterlist
Carwood Lipton x Enlisted!Female Reader
They say time heals all wounds, but your love for Carwood Lipton simply lies dormant until fate brings you together again under very different circumstances.
Warnings: MAJOR Canon Divergence, Angst, Pining For A Married Man, Alcohol Consumption, Language, Discussion of Divorce, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [fingering, hand job, unprotected vaginal sex, pull out method] - 18+ ONLY.
Author's Note: Self-indulgent canon divergence with little explanation ahead, read at your own risk. This applies not only to the existence of female paratroopers but Carwood Lipton's personal life. 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: 5242
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‘Go home to your wife, sir, it’s better this way.’ Your harsh words echoed through your mind as you blindly navigated your way through the dark streets of Buchloe, unshed tears obscuring your vision.
Thankfully, you knew the way back to your platoon’s billet, managing to make it inside and hand off tomorrow’s orders to Sergeant Martin before retreating to the room you shared with another female paratrooper, Norma, and having a good cry on her shoulder. She easily believed it was related to what the Battalion had witnessed that day and you submitted yourself to her mothering, too emotionally spent to protest as she found you some tea and tucked you into bed.
That day marked the last time Lipton tried to break through your defences, giving you a wide berth for the rest of the war. That is not to say you did not catch his gaze from time to time nor feel his eyes lingering on you when he thought you unaware. For your part, you put in a more concerted effort to behave as people expected, hoping to quash any concerns about your wellbeing. To keep the attention of the likes of Winters and Speirs on more important things like the occupation, the Japanese surrender, everyone’s return to the States.
The gaping wound in your chest faded to a dull ache, your friendship with Norma blossomed, and the pair of you ultimately decided to make a go of it in New York City after the war. The likelihood of two ex-service women, one with a facial scar, getting jobs in your respective hometowns was slim to none, and so you had found an affordable apartment to share in the big city before going on the hunt for work. Norma had found employment immediately at a department store while it had taken you quite some time to secure a position at a bank across from the docks, run by a man who seemed unfazed by both your gender and the mark on your face.
It was not long before Norma had found herself a beau, who quickly became her fiancé, and then her husband. Every man that you met had the misfortune of being compared to the spectre of Carwood Lipton and never had a chance of fully measuring up. You chose instead to focus your efforts on your career, securing several promotions and a nicer apartment of your own, leaving Norma and her husband to their newly wedded bliss. You stayed in touch with a lot of the guys from Easy, of course, exchanging letters with Luz and Randleman frequently. By the time 1947 rolled around, the location of the second reunion of the 101st Airborne was chosen as the very city in which you lived and so began Luz’s campaign to convince you to attend.
You finally relented in June, if only to stop the overwhelming volume of postcards he was sending your way, but as you stood outside the New Yorker Hotel that Friday in August, you still found yourself utterly unsure. Though you’d been back in the country for less than two years, Europe felt like another lifetime. You’d forced yourself to move on, to become another person, if only for the sake of surviving the rest of your days without Lipton. Shaking your head with a sigh, you turned to go, running smack into the chest of some innocent bystander on the sidewalk.
“I’m so sorry!” You gasped out at the same time as his hands gripped your elbows to steady you.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” Lipton apologized and your eyes shot to his face to see him swallow in surprise.
In his defence he’d probably never once seen you wearing a dress as you were now, your hair styled, a touch of makeup on. An entirely different person to the one he would have recognized from the Airborne, while he stood there in his civilian suit looking every bit as handsome as he had in his Class A uniform.
“Liu–Lipton.” You corrected yourself quickly, watching a small smile pull at his mouth as he politely released your arms.
“It’s good to see you.” He glanced between you and the hotel before inclining his head curiously. “Not going in?”
“I, uh,” You looked over your shoulder before shaking your head as you turned back to him. “I don’t think so, no.”
His mouth pulled into a straight line, signalling his disappointment, but he made no verbal comment on it. “Need a cab?” He moved toward the curb, and you stepped forward quickly to stop him, shaking your head again.
“I live just a few blocks from here, I could use the walk. Thank you though.” You pressed your lips together as your fondness for him swelled to life beneath your sternum, reawakened by his presence.
“I’ll escort you then.” He insisted stubbornly and stood expectantly, waiting for your direction.
“You don’t have to, I’m sure you want to get inside…” You protested meekly, utterly out of character.
He raised an eyebrow. “I insist. Are we going left, or right?”
You pointed to your left and he nodded, turning to walk that way with you. You made your way together in silence for nearly a block, neither of your seeming to have any idea what to say after all this time. After the last time you had truly spoken to one another in Buchloe. Unable to stand the oppressive weight of the awkward silence between you a moment longer, you took a breath and turned to him as you waited for the walk light at the next corner.
“What’ve you been up to since you got back?”
“I’m working on that degree I put on hold.” He answered easily, arm hovering above your back protectively as a man darted behind you before dashing out across traffic, clearly in a hurry somewhere. “You?” He asked once you started walking again.
“Got a job, an apartment. The whole civilian life business.” You shrugged.
“All in New York City, very impressive.” He smiled softly and you looked to your feet quickly lest your eyes betray the way that melted your heart.
“Norma’s here too, working at Macy’s, got herself a husband.” You came to a stop after several blocks, standing in front of your building. “This is me.”
He looked up, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “You weren’t kidding when you said you live close by.”
“Yeah. Thanks again for walking me over, you ok to find your way back?”
The sound of a rowdy group of men spilling out from the bar across the street pulled his attention before looked back to you. “Could you bear to have one drink with me?”
“Bear it…” You repeated in disbelief, the gaping hole he’d left in your chest raw and aching once more. “Of course I can.” You swallowed roughly, willfully ignoring that pain beneath your ribs.
His smile grew a fraction, and he offered his arm, watching you carefully slide your forearm into the crook of his elbow before he led you across the street and into the busy establishment. The only open seats were at the very edge of the u-shaped counter, crammed into a corner, and he confidently weaved his way through the other patrons to help you onto one open stool before taking the other. You tucked your handbag against the wall with a huff of annoyance and he cocked his head.
“There are not many things I miss about being a paratrooper, but having a pocket for everything is certainly one of them.” You smirked a little as he laughed warmly, gesturing the bartender over.
“What would you like?” He turned to you to order first and then ordered a beer for himself. “So where do you work?” He leaned in to be sure you could hear him over the din of conversation.
“At a bank down by the docks, customers don’t seem to be put off by me, my boss is a stand-up guy.” You replied, nodding your thanks as your beverages arrived.
He nodded warmly, lifting his glass to take a sip. The movement caught your eye as you enjoyed the first taste of your own drink, gaze falling onto the bare ring finger on his left hand. Inhaling sharply, the burn of alcohol in your trachea set you coughing, and you quickly put down your glass lest you spill it all over yourself. Lipton looked to you quickly in concern before following your eyeline, holding up his left hand thoughtfully.
“Paperwork was finalized a few months ago.” He muttered once you calmed your spasming throat.
Guilt flooded you even though there had been no real transgression on your part aside from one half-accidental kiss in Germany. You looked at him with unmasked sorrow and shook your head, frowning as he set his hand over yours where it rested on the countertop.
“I’m a different person now and so is she, please don’t carry my burdens too.” He said gently, squeezing your hand in his.
“Lip I’m so sorry…” You uttered the well-worn phrase of sympathy, uncertain of what else you could possibly say.
“What about you? Anyone special in your life?” He asked as he lifted his hand from yours, reaching for his glass to take another sip.
You shook your head quickly “Hasn’t really been time, or worthwhile candidates.” You replied, taking a generous sip of your drink.
“Hmm.” He uttered noncommittally before glancing at his beer appreciatively. “It sure is nice to be back where they know how to serve one of these.”
You laughed softly. “Not a fan of tepid beer, Lipton?” You teased, leaning against the counter a little to turn and look at him better.
He wrinkled his nose a little and shook his head, making you laugh again. The pair of you began to reminisce then, reminding one another of funny moments you had shared, trading stories about the training you had endured separately. All the while the bar became more and more crowded, forcing you to lean closer together just to hear each other. You ordered another round as he seemed inclined to linger and you most certainly could not say no to more time basking in his presence. You had nearly finished your second drinks when he looked at you intently.
“You’ve never met a man you could spend the rest of your life with?” His knee brushed against yours as he turned closer to you on his stool.
“Not since I got home from Europe, no.” Your answer was careful, keeping it strictly truthful, hoping not to incriminate yourself.
“And before that?” He probed persistently and you pressed your lips together, looking at him meaningfully.
“I don’t know if you want the answer to that, Carwood.” You responded at last, fingers gripping your drink tighter as his eyes snapped to yours at the use of his preferred name.
“No, I really think I do.” He pinned you with a firm look and you took the final gulp of your drink, letting it sear its way down to your stomach.
“I did yeah, but the timing was all wrong.”
“And what about now?” He wet his lips with an almost-invisible flick of his tongue, but your eyes could not help but follow the movement.
“What about now, Carwood?” You challenged breathlessly.
“Keep using my name and it’s absolutely perfect.” He replied earnestly, leaning closer to you.
Your exhaled shakily. “You mean that?”
“I do.” He nodded firmly.
“It’s always been you, Carwood.” You sighed, eyes fluttering closed as he pressed his forehead against yours, finger entwining to hold your hand tightly.
“I’m so sorry it took me so long to understand it.” He muttered, breath fanning across your face.
You shook your head quickly and looked at him, voice thick with emotion. “It wasn’t you, it was the timing of everything.”
Carwood nodded, cupping your cheek with his free hand and you leaned into his touch. “Still have a lot to make up for.” He countered.
“Call me stubborn.” You teased him fondly, ducking a quick kiss to his cheek. “Would you like to come up to my apartment?” You murmured against his ear, holding your breath until he nodded softly.
Once the tab was settled, by a very insistent Carwood, you made your way back across the street and up to your fifth-floor residence, never once letting go of his hand. Unlocking the door, you led him into your modest studio apartment, toeing off your shoes at the door, smiling as he did the same.
“We never actually ate dinner, are you hungry?” You asked as you locked the door behind him.
He shook his head and stepped forward to cup your cheeks gently, pressing his lips to your firmly. Your hands gripped his forearms tightly, shifting closer.
“I’m sorry I’ve just…” He murmured as he pulled back.
“Been dreaming of that for three years.” You cut him off gently, leaning in to kiss him once again, arms sliding around his neck.
Carwood’s arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close as his mouth moved against yours, the intensity of your kisses escalating to the exchanging of breath through parted lips before you slid your tongue against his wantonly. His fingers curled into the fabric of your dress as his chest rumbled in delight, years worth of simmering tension boiling over as you pressed him back into the door, tasting him thoroughly.
One of his hands slowly slid down to your lower back, making you arch closer to him still, gasping against his lips as you could feel the outline of his rapidly hardening length pressing against you. Hands shifting to grip the lapels of his jacket, you walked backward through the apartment easily, eyes locked on his, until you pivoted to press on his shoulders and sit him down on the end of your bed.
“Are you sure?” He murmured up at you thickly as you slid to straddle his thighs.
“Only if you are.” You swallowed, wondering if you were overwhelming the poor man.
“I love you.” Carwood smiled warmly and slid his fingers to the back of your neck to pull you in for a tender kiss.
Heart feeling as though it had broken free of your ribcage to soar through the clouds, you buried your fingers into his hair, returning the kiss fiercely. “God, I love you too.” You breathed against his mouth, voice rough with emotion.
A small noise of surprise left your lips as his hands gripped your thighs and he skillfully rolled you onto your back. Grinning with a hint of pride, his hands skimmed higher beneath the hem of your dress and slip to unfasten your stockings with practiced ease, rolling them down and off your legs one at a time, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of each calf once the skin was bared to him. He took a moment to shrug out of his suit jacket before crawling up your body to paint teasingly soft kisses down the column of your throat, working at the fastenings of your dress.
Not one to be idle, your fingers began to work at the buttons of his dress shirt, tugging it free of the waistband of his pants before pushing it down his arms. Carwood pulled back to deposit it onto the floor before gently sliding your dress down your body to join it. His hands skimmed along your silk-clad sides as he drank you in, features painted with wonder.
“All of this hiding under that uniform.” He uttered.
Biting your lip, you pushed up to kiss him warmly. “Could say the same about you, you know.” You traced your hands along the muscles of his shoulders and down his arms before shifting your focus to undoing his belt, delighting in the pink tinge of his cheeks in response.
He trailed open mouthed kisses along the neckline of your slip, brushing against the tops of your breasts, making you exhale shakily as you worked his pants open and off his body. Stepping free of them before crawling back onto the bed, he slid the straps of your slip down, revealing your lingerie to his heated gaze. “As if you couldn’t get any more beautiful…” He shook his head, slip discarded behind him before his lips descended onto yours once more, sealing off any glib reply you might have been able to muster.
Fingers skimming up your ribs, you whimpered into his mouth as his broad palm cupped your breast through the silky material of your brassiere, gripping at the back of his undershirt, insistently pulling the fabric up his skin. His tongue laved along your cleavage, shivers wracking your body at the sensation of his hot breath on your damp skin as he continued to knead at your sensitive flesh. Feeling him begin to sit up, you grabbed the gathered material of his undershirt in your fist and pulled it over his head, throwing it to the side somewhere as he worked your bra and garter belt free.
Caressing the still-defined muscles of his chest and abdomen, you cried out softly as his mouth sealed around first one nipple and then the other, always keeping a balance of pleasure between the two that was filling your veins with scorching desire. Delving past the waistline of his boxers, your hand sought his cock impatiently, and as your fingers wrapped around him, Carwood pressed his face to your sternum with a grunt. You were honestly taken aback when he gently but firmly gripped your wrist and pulled your hand free of him.
“You first, beautiful.” He murmured, leaning up to peck your lips before his mouth returned to its teasing work, pressing your wrist into the mattress before he cupped between the apex of your thighs.
“Carwood!” You gasped softly, hips bucking to his hand slightly before you sunk your teeth into your lower lip, fingers grasping at the bedding in an effort to respect his wishes.
His hazel eyes looked up to yours across the planes of your torso, pupils dilating rapidly as he traced your folds through the silken material of your underwear, your body writhing eagerly beneath his touch. Unable to both keep your eyes open for him and your mouth shut, you whimpered loudly, hips bucking more insistently as you desperately needed more of him. His eyes closed briefly, his mouth pressing a damp kiss to your side before he pulled back to strip you of your underwear, shifting to lay next to you. His fingers resumed their torment, the skin-on-skin contact with your slick core making your eyes roll back in your head.
“Look so pretty like this, beautiful.” He breathed against your ear, making you shudder. “Content and enjoying yourself.” His thumb zeroed in on your bundle of nerves, wrenching a moan from you. “Making all the loveliest sounds.”
“Mm! Car… so good…” You panted in reply, turning your head to kiss him deeply, mewling into his mouth as he sank his index finger into your needy warmth.
Turning his hand to grind the heel of his palm against your clit, he worked his finger in and out of you smoothly before adding a second, your back bowing as you started to clench tighter around him, breathless with impending climax. “Please show me how you fall apart, beautiful.”
Your eyelids fluttered open as he propped himself up on his free arm to get a better view of your face, licking his lips hungrily as he added a third finger, sending you hurtling into climax with a ragged cry. His fingers continued their movements, prolonging your pleasure until you grinned up at him languidly. “Just when I thought you could never surprise me again, Carwood…what a gentleman you are.” Your grin widened at the scarlet tinge to his cheeks in response to your praise.
Your eyes widened slightly as he licked his fingers clean, your teeth sinking into your ravaged lower lip at the sight.
“Don’t hurt yourself.” He murmured, thumb gently easing the plump flesh from beneath your incisor before he kissed you warmly.
Rolling onto your hip, you tugged at the waistband of his boxers, fighting the friction of the fabric against the bedding before you finally worked them free. Your hand once again wrapped around the length of him, eagerly drinking in his soft moan against your lips as you stroked along the velvety flesh. Sliding your leg over his hip you shuffled closer, rocking your pelvis forward to guide him into your welcoming body.
“Oh!” He breathed harshly as he rolled his hips forward, nestling into you fully.
“Ah, Car.” You sighed, burying your fingers into his hair, pressing your forehead against his.
The intensity of his eyes boring into yours as he thrust into and pulled from your body was nearly too much to bear, the agony of ecstasy bringing the dewy cling of teardrops to your eyelashes.
“Ok?” He whispered, hips stilling.
“God yes, just so fucking happy.” You sniffled and buried your face against his throat shyly, moaning richly as he began to move again, his fingers gripping the soft flesh of your buttock.
“I love you so much, beautiful.” He groaned into your hair, pelvis grinding against yours as your muscles involuntarily clenched around him at those words.
“You too, Car.” You whispered, pressing salty kisses against his neck.
You could feel the muscles of his jaw clenching against your temple as he struggled to maintain his pace, your body responding eagerly as you felt yourself ascending towards release. Crying out against his skin as you orgasmed, he quickly pulled out, his own release spilling across your inner thigh. He’d barely made it, but Carwood still did his best to be a gentleman. You lifted your tearstained face to kiss him deeply, caressing his cheek and down his back warmly.
Carwood’s lips brushed against your cheeks, kissing away any trace of your tears tenderly. “That was incredible…” He murmured and you nodded warmly, pressing your lips to the scar on his right cheek.
“You’re incredible.” You replied softly, unable to stop your lazy smile as he ducked his head a little under your open admiration of him.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?” He pressed a kiss to your scar in turn, knocking the wind out of you, leaving you staring up at him in stunned silence as he slid to his feet to find the washroom. “Bath?”
You simply nodded, having somehow lost the ability to form words as he grabbed your hands and led you there. Never having considered yourself ashamed of the mark you wore so prominently, you were honestly bewildered at your reaction to his tender gesture. Were still pondering it as you slid into the temperate water with him, neither of you wanting a terribly warm bath on a hot summer evening.
“You’re awful quiet, beautiful.” He murmured from behind you, fingers trailing water along the skin of your arms.
“Sorry Car, I just…when you kissed my face, I got all…”
“When I kissed your scar, you mean.” He corrected softly, pressing his cheek against yours and you nodded. “Did it bother you?”
“Not at all.” You breathed quickly. “It felt so lovely I just, never realized I wanted that?” You turned to look back at him, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his lips to the mark once more, letting them linger there.
“You’ll always be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“Carwood…” You sighed and turned in his arms to kiss him firmly.
It took a lot of determination on his part to get the pair of you clean, dry, and fed but he managed to prevail despite your wandering hands. Sliding into bed with you in a set of summer pyjamas and him in his boxers and undershirt, he pulled you to his chest, holding you warmly. “Tonight has turned out far better than I could have ever imagined.”
You laughed against him drowsily. “Much better than speeches from Generals Taylor and McAuliffe while eating hotel food…”
He laughed warmly and squeezed your shoulder. “Sleep well, beautiful.”
“You too, Car.” You murmured, nestling against him contentedly.
The firm knocking at your door the next morning had you snuffling awake against Carwood’s hair, brows furrowed, thoroughly disgruntled to have your peaceful slumber interrupted. He lifted his head from where it was tucked beneath your chin and blinked up at you blearily, confusion etched on his features. There was another string of rapping knuckles against wood and you sighed heavily, unwrapping your arms from around him to peel yourself from the bed and grab your housecoat.
“Just a moment!” You slung it on, doing it up quickly to preserve your modesty as you walked towards the door, Carwood following at your side.
You turned the deadbolt but left the chain in place, Carwood standing on the other side of the doorframe as you cracked it open just enough to speak to whomever was there without revealing him.
Your eyes widened as there stood George Luz, grinning broadly with a warm cry of your name.
“George?!”
“We missed you last night! Just wanted to stop by and make sure you were still coming to the lunch that Bill arranged for Easy.” He looked at you sternly and you nodded quickly, pushing the door shut to slide the chain free, opening it again more widely and smiling at him softly.
“Of course I am. Sorry about last night work got out of hand.” You swallowed, hating to lie, but you and Carwood hadn’t really discussed much. “By the time I got out of there the banquet was half over and I didn’t want to make a fuss showing up late.”
His eyes twinkled a little. “Well, you gotta do what you gotta do. Hey by any chance you seen Lip? He came in from West Virginia yesterday but didn’t show up at dinner and he’s not in his room at the hotel, either.”
You blinked in feigned innocence. “Why would I have seen him, George, I was working and then here.” You swallowed as you could see Carwood grimace out of the corner of your eye.
“Yeah right, of course. I’m real worried about him, might have to go to the cops…”
Carwood sighed deeply and grabbed the edge of the door, pulling it open wider to show his face as proof of life. “I’m here, Luz.”
Luz’s resulting grin was as blinding as the sun, making you bow your head. “Oh! Oh, I see this reunion is goin’ real well.”
“We’ll see you at lunch, Luz.” Carwood replied firmly, pushing the door shut in his face, turning to you slowly. “You ok?” He whispered, not wanting to be overheard.
You looked to him slowly before breaking out into a fit of laughter, nodding quickly. “Jesus, that man has been rooting for us since Haguenau…” You sighed fondly as Carwood’s eyes widened.
“Seriously?”
You cleared your throat and composed yourself, resting your hands on his shoulders. “I’m alright, are you?”
He nodded quickly before his brow furrowed. “George Luz knew before I did?”
“I didn’t tell him, if that’s what you mean, he just…figured it out somehow. Scared the hell out of me.”
Carwood frowned more and set his hands on your hips, stepping closer. “That’s why you left that day.” He breathed in realization, and you swallowed tightly.
“It was a contributing factor, yes.” You admitted, pulling your lower lip into your mouth with your teeth.
His thumb rose to gently free it, soothing the slight indentation. “Wish you would have talked to me, instead.”
Exhaling heavily, you pursed your lips in thought before replying. “I probably could have done things differently, I’ll admit, but at the time I felt like I had no choice. I am sorry for how much pain and confusion it must have caused you though, Car.” You pressed your lips to the pad of his thumb which had lingered at the corner of your mouth as you spoke.
“I’m sorry you felt that you had no choice – how lonely that must have been. I’m sorry I didn’t meet you sooner…” He swallowed harshly, blinking rapidly as his eyes grew damp.
“Hey, hey neither of us can change the past, Carwood.” You kissed between his brows warmly. “It’s behind us now, we have a whole future ahead.”
His eyes rosed to yours slowly, and he nodded. “What would you like that future to look like, beautiful?”
“I want you in it.” You replied easily, without hesitation, swallowing at his shy smile in return. “Don’t really care what it takes at this point.”
“Sounds perfect.” He nodded, sealing his statement with a deep kiss.
That afternoon as you sat surrounded by members of your old company, you nodded as Carwood excused himself to use to washroom, laughing brightly as Guarnere continued his story about their old commanding officer at Toccoa. You hadn’t realized how much you had missed each and every one of them until you’d arrived at the restaurant, greeted by a chorus of shouts of your name. Carwood was already there, having gone back to his hotel room to change beforehand, and no one but Luz seemed suspicious of how close the pair of you were sitting at the table. Couldn’t see the way your knee was pressed against his, unable to bear the separation.
“Can’t believe his wife ran off with some 4F milkman.” Guarnere shook his head and you looked to him sharply.
“Who…Carwood’s?!” You gasped out, eyes widening as he nodded in confirmation.
Carwood had had every opportunity to speak ill of his now ex-wife and yet remained a gentleman even after what she’d put him through. Impossible as it seemed, you somehow fell even further in love with the man right then.
Luz grinned at you knowingly from his seat to your right. “Sure seems like marriage just ain’t forever anymore these days, huh?” He winked and the other guys muttered their agreement.
You nodded silently, still processing the news, looking up as Powers started talking but sent a smile to Carwood as he slid back into his chair to your left. You were vaguely aware that Luz had risen from his seat but weren’t entirely certain what he was up to until his hand pressed against your right cheek, his other against Carwood’s left, pressing your neighboring cheeks together tightly to form one continuous line with your scars.
“See boys, what I’d tell ya? They were made for each other – their scars even match!” He crowed proudly as Guarnere and the others tilted their heads back to laugh richly.
You giggled softly while simultaneously swatting at Luz until he sat back down, jaw dropping as you felt Carwood’s lips find their way onto your scar, the boys roaring with glee. Turning quickly, you kissed the well faded mark on his cheek in turn, pressing your face against his shoulder as a few of them started clapping and at least one of them muttered ‘finally.’
“So, when’s the wedding?” Luz asked boldly and everyone leaned in with bated breath.
“I assure you your invites will be in the mail as soon as we know.” Carwood replied diplomatically and you gazed up at him in wonder as more cheers erupted around the table and someone started calling for champagne.
‘Ok?’ He mouthed silently and you nodded quickly.
“Everything is perfect.”
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It's Better This Way Masterlist
Tag list: @bcon24 , @ronsparky
#carwood lipton x reader#carwood lipton imagines#carwood lipton imagine#carwood lipton#band of brothers x reader#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers fic#band of brothers imagines#band of brothers imagine#band of brothers
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Ron Speirs x Nurse Reader
Summary: During wartime some stories were created to scare and keep the soldiers on the line, but some other ones were slowly written to have a happy ending, just like fairy tales.
A/N: This was based on a prompt kindly sent to me by a lovely anon who wanted something with Ron x Nurse Reader and since then I was so OBSESSED with this idea so I had to try something. So dear anon if you are reding this I hope you like it, I had to change it a little bit because I'm truly awful with requests, hope you don't mind. Also this was slighthly based on the Rolling Stones song, because it so Ron coded and apparently I can't write anything not related to music? So here we go!
The first time you saw him was one week after D-Day, everybody was still scared and lost, many people went missing so naturally the first place the men went looking for their friends was the Aid Station. It was completely madness, you couldn’t take a pause to catch your breath even when your feet hurt, even when you couldn’t tell what time it was, when your stomach made loud noises, you pushed through pain, tears and tiredness.
During one of your shifts you were attending to a private who was hit in the head by shrapnel after a potato masher exploded close to him. He was bleeding heavily since he arrived so you had to change the bandage from time to time. The Aid Station was always a noisy place with some people screaming in agony, others nurses and doctors were giving orders trying to save someone else and a few lucky ones were just chatting to pass the time. But in that afternoon it went quiet as if some spell was cast and suddenly the world was frozen, you could see heads following the footsteps of this soldier who walked in.
He slowly walked in your direction, you couldn’t see his features until he was at the other side of the stretcher of the man you were aiding. At first he didn’t say a word as he was looking at the other soldier, as if studying the damage that was done by the germans. He took a deep breath and finally asked quietly, “Is he gonna make it?” and looked at you with those big dark green eyes to which you couldn’t lie, so you honestly said “I don’t know”, he only shook his head giving you one sad look before turning into his heels and heading out.
You were awfully quiet that evening trying to eat some bread while the other girls were chatting. You tried your best but your long-suffering patient didn’t make it and yet you could only think about those sad green eyes. Some weeks went by, people would come and go but your thoughts would often drift aways to this face you couldn’t even put a name to.
The second time you saw him was even less fortunate than the first one, this time he came in angrily shouting that he didn’t needed any help and assistance, but anyone would notice that he was limping and there was even blood on his uniform coming from his leg, his hands also were bleeding.
Poor Jane, your friend was the closest nurse available, you only watched from a distance as she was addressing his wounds. At first he was reluctant but then finally gave in and let the woman quickly put some bandages on it, she only asked a couple of questions, filled a piece of paper and gave it to the man. Just as he went in he was suddenly gone, as he was heading out he saw you and nodded with his head before putting back his cap.
Dinner was always gossip time and that night you made sure to sit near Jane to get some food but also try to get some information.
“So who was that guy who came in earlier making a scene?”
“Are you kidding Y/N? That is Lieutenant Speirs, he is the one everybody keeps talking about, he killed 15 german POW or something on D-Day” Linda said, swinging her spoon
dramatically.
“I heard it was more like 20 guys, he even offered some cigarettes before shooting them” the other nurse called Grace.
“And do you believe those stories?” you asked them not even daring to take your eyes off your food. This couldn’t be true right?
“I don’t know Y/N, I heard it from one of my guys the other day, he was telling his friend that they sergeant saw it” Grace told you two before changing the subject to talk about some soldier named Talbert that they both find so cute.
Lieutenant Speirs so that’s him, after that day you were always looking for his name in the morning reports at the Aid Station, you heart almost skipping a beat at the letter S but you never saw his name. You never forgot his name nor his eyes or his dark hair.
From time to time you would see him with a cigarette on his lips from one side to the other, he was always followed by strange looks and a couple of whispers, his bad reputation was growing as time passed by, some stories were clearly too absurd to be true, others were creepier to say the least.
Third time's the charm right? Bastogne was a real nightmare, you had to move to the front line due to the heavy losses of people who had basic medical training, the supplies were short and the was was getting brutal, specially due to that fucking cold. One night you were trying to get some warm soup in the foxhole you shared with Eugene, you both couldn’t feel your fingertips as if they seemed to be frozen so you decided to try and warm your hands while eating something.
“Y/L/N” came from a hard and harsh voice from behind, you were caught by surprise as you jumped from the scare “Y/L/N did I get your name right?”
“Yes sir!” you quickly said
“Pleased to meet you, I guess you know who I am. What are you and Roe doing here? It’s not safe enough you should stay aways from the line” he said as you both nodded quickly taking your belongings and starting to move, he kept watching you and offered his hand to pull you from the foxhole to which you said a shy “thank you”, his hands were strong and warm and you had to fight the urge to ask him how he could keep them so warm in the frozen temperature, but you didn’t said a word.
Holding a gun in his hand he slowly and carefully escorted you through the white snow. Eugene was following you two but suddenly John Toye called for his help with something else. Speirs even helped you to settle in the new foxhole, putting some twigs and sticks to reinforce the cover. He then wished you goodnight before disappearing again. The man walked like a shadow between the lines, you took your time to thank the guy from above that he was at your side in this war, you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you thought that he was the enemy.
Just a couple of days later the only thing the men would talk about was how the now Captain Speirs ran through the streets of Foy to link up with I Company after he released Foxhole Dike from his position and how bravely and fearlessly led Easy. The guys were so happy to have a good leader again, you were happier too because it meant now they were saffer.
The fourth time he was shot in his butt during one of your night shifts back at the Aid Station, he was soaking wet, pale and so tired that he didn’t have the energy to be stubborn. You asked what happened and Sergeant Lipton said he was hit while going across the river into the germans territory to get some information on the germans. You promptly gave him some medicine and started to take care of his wound as fast as you could.
It was strange but you kept your cool and gave your best to stay calm and do your job as if he was just another guy. Except he wasn’t, after the bullet was removed he let out a big sigh of relief and as the medicine was starting to kick in he slowly falled asleep in a feverish state.. You couldn’t help yourself and stare at the man you’ve been thinking about for so long, you stayed by his side trying to quietly read a book but your eyes would move away from it and watch how his eyelashes peacefully rested, how soft his facial expression was and how his now slightly wet hair was falling in his forehead.
You reached your hand to it with the excuse to feel his temperature, he was burning hot and as you were taking a wet piece of cloth to use it to cool him off a bit he opened those same green eyes you’ve been thinking about.
“Am I gonna make it?” he said with a weak voice and caught your hand in his
“Yes” you said, but this time you were 100% sure and when you realized you were smiling at him, he gave you a cute smile back before closing his eyes and falling asleep again. He was certainly a handsome man but on that night you could swear he looked like one of those princes from fairy tales your mom would tell you at bedtime. You couldn’t help but think how he could be soft and yet so stern, so scary but also so gentle and caring, you felt sympathy for the Devil after all.
The next day he was feeling so much better and tried to get away as quickly as possible but you preferred to stay cautious and ordered him to stay a bit longer, which he couldn’t refuse and finally gave in. After some minutes of awkward silence he started to small talk asking where you are from, if you had any siblings back home and even if you had a boyfriend. You tried your best to keep talking just to keep him with you a bit longer but your peace was interrupted when a couple of soldiers came by heavily wounded and you were required to take care of them.
When you finally came back he was gone, he only left a note apologizing for leaving without a proper goodbye but promised he would somehow make it up to you later.
Of course he did it as soon as you set foot at Berchtersgarden, there the mood was totally different, especially after the german army officially surrendered. He took you out to enjoy some coffee at this beautiful place with an incredible view of the mountains, even through you thought that the view of the captain in front of you was even better.
You were so happy with everything that you couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear and as you reached from his hand across the table, he didn't moved it and intertwined your fingers, then gave you a sincere and beautiful smile, you felt butterflies all over your stomach because you felt more than just sympathy for the Devil.
Taglist: @mads-weasley , @footprintsinthesxnd , @sweetxvanixlla , @xxluckystrike , @malarkgirlypop , @lostloveletters , @next-autopsy , @ewipandora
#ronald speirs#ron speirs#band of brothers fic#ronald speirs x reader#ronald speirs fanfic#band of brothers#band of brothers x reader#band of brothers fanfic#mw*#mf*
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CHAPTER TWO: MAYBE HELL IS A LARGE MOUNTAIN IN TOCCOA, GEORGIA
A/N: Welcome to chapter two of hiraeth! This one is a long one and i’m not to sure if i’m happy with how it turned out, but i didn’t want to not post something so here it is!
Word Count: 2.3k
Content Warnings: period typical sexism, inaccurate historical retellings, violence, blood and war related injuries, PTSD, Winnie’s hatred of authority, bullying (?), probably OOC writing and horrible americanisation of words
< previous chapter > - < next chapter >
Eating rats in Africa had to be more enjoyable than running up a mountain in full pack gear. Especially when your CO hated your company and by extension you
To answer the question what the fuck is a currahee? Winnie was forced into her brand new boots, and a much too large uniform, to run up a large mountain. Not only did she twist her ankle in the first five minutes, but if one more man kicked dirt into her eyes, she might start getting violent.
Lieutenant Sobel was a sadist. Winnie decided on mile two of the run. Given the fact that it looked like he was almost enjoying their looks of despair. As Sobel watched her red faced and sweaty body push past the men on the mountain, she could almost hear the taunting words and insults spilling from his tongue. Although smaller by quite a margin, Winnie had months of active duty behind her, helping aid her in this, rather ridiculous climb. Now that is something she could hear, the grumbles and insults from the men in her company, not many liked the idea that some scrawny looking kid they’ve never met, beating them up currahee.
The top of currahee was an amazing view, not the Winnie got to see much of it. Her CO yelling at her that ‘this isn’t good enough for easy’ or that ‘woman in the military are to blame for our time up currahee’. Like she wasn’t the fastest person to haul ass up the mountain.
The bottom of the mountain left easy company in a pile of doubled over figures with their hands on their knees, sucking in as much air as possible.
“look at that, miss face scar thinking she’s better than us” one of the men mutter between gasps
“what do ya think she did to deserve that one?” another mumbled
Clenching her jaw, Winnie stretched out her neck. no fighting on your first day. A deep breath and an internal lecture on formality she rolled back her shoulders, walking towards the showers as instructed. Now the problem she faced was that there were no women’s showers, which meant, finding a time where there was no men in the shower would be difficult.
After finding a clean pair of clothes. something not covered in dust or ticks! Deciding she was far too sweaty to not shower before the dinner service, she took a faster pace. if i can shower quickly, wearing my undergarments, i can get to the food hall before everyone and-
“outta my way” accompanied by a harsh shove
“watch it dumbass” she hisses back, dusting the dirt off her shorts
“whaddya say to me?” his nostrils flare
“do i have to spell it out for you too?” Crossing her arms over her chest
Both soldiers stand nearly face to face, although in Winnie’s case more face to chest. Her rather short temper was not helped by months at war, and her counterparts clear distaste for her was not helped by her smart mouth.
“Hayes, Cobb, is there a problem here?” Winters crosses his arms over his chest
“not at all lieutenant” Winnie responds, her eyes never once softening from their glare.
With a quick look up and down the taller man, Winnie pushed past him with a shoulder bump and made her way towards the shower block. For all the money the United States Government has put into its military, you would think that maybe the showers would be more than four walls with a flimsy lock. But no! i have to shower and watch my back.
Luck. Something that is not entirely on her side. After the fifth scar, Winnie decided that if there was a God, he was playing with his food before eating it. Luck, was being able to shower without being interrupted, and thanking her lucky stars, she was showering. Maybe it had to do with how quickly she ran to get her clean clothes, or maybe, just maybe, Luck was on her side. The cold water hit her chest, with a choked gasp Winnie jumps backwards.
———
The sweltering heat of Africa was dry. Bugs bite the exposed skin of their legs, now visible after doc let them borrow his scissors. My rash had been present for three days, doc said once it hits a week, we start to worry. I wasn’t worried. As long as the bugs didn’t come near me. Fighting off the Germans was one thing, but bugs? that was a whole new ball game.
They tried to give us shifts down at the ocean. It wasn’t the best option for a shower, but after months in the heat, any water was good enough to clean the mud and grime from our blood stained skin.
The best factor was that the ocean was cold. Even five minutes to dunk yourself under the water and slapping a wet slouch hat on your head was enough to keep you going for the night.
The salt water stings. Eyes blurring as they’re opened under the sea. A burning wound. The ocean turning red. With a strangled gasp and her wet hair sticking to her face like a second skin, she paddles. Winnie holds her left shoulder with her hand, legs kicking wildly as a shot rings through the air.
“Sniper!” her voice is hoarse as she yells for her friends to take cover.
Groaning as she lands on the sand with a wet thud, blood coating her fingers a deep crimson. Dust coating her skin, and a lasting feeling of the cold water sticking to her body.
——
Winnie shakes her head like she can shake the memories loose from her brain. Her hand slams the faucet down, the shower instantly stopping the stream of cold water. not in africa not in africa. Her hands work quickly, drying herself, changing into her uniform. The sooner she could get out of here and eat, the better.
The cold door held her weight as she rested her forehead against it. Eyes screwed shut her chest shuddered with half taken breaths. in. out. in. out. Only allowing two minutes to crack before she pieced herself together. She had things to do. With her dirty clothes in hand, now dropped into the wash bin, Winnie set out for dinner.
left. right. left. right. one foot in-front of the other.
Army food was nothing of great expectation. Army chefs who aren’t actually chefs, mass producing meals with food that Winnie isn’t all to certain is food. Nonetheless, anything was better than eating rats. So she kept her mouth shut, made sure to say thank you to the cooks, and took her tray, sitting at the corner of the table, plenty of room for the men to sit.
Soon enough, tables filled up all around her, and as expected Winnie was the plague. At least, she’s certain people thought she was. That was the only reason for a full table of easy company men to be pushed into one side of the table.
“i don’t have rabies you know” she muttered towards… Johnny was it? Maybe it was Joe “it won’t kill you to sit next to me”
Poking at the concerning loaf shaped meat on her tray, she glanced up as someone coughed. The seat opposite her was about to have an occupant. really wish i learnt those names. He looked out of place, and quite frankly awkward.
“Is this seat taken miss?” He had a soft voice.
“Go ahead” She sighed softly, an open hand as she pointed to the chair
“I hope you don’t mind, the other side is lookin’ a little cosy for my liking” he explained
“Not at all… as long as you don’t mind sitting with the outcast” poking at her meat loaf. If she avoided eye contact, maybe it would be less awkard
“My ma always said it wasn’t right to be mean to someone just ‘cause you don’t know ‘em” The man spoke softly, but he held a fond look when he mentioned his mother. It was rather sweet Winnie thought.
“Well your ma must be a real nice lady” with a smile Winnie looked up at the man “Winnie”
“Darrel… But everyone calls me Shifty” he responded kindly
“It’s lovely to meet you Shifty” she nodded, and responds in a soft, almost embarrassed tone “thank you for sitting with me-“
Chatter around the room stops as the doors to the cafeteria slam against the walls. Standing like Satan at the gates of hell was Sobel, a harsh glare set on his pointed features as he scans the room for his prey. Winnie knew it. as soon as his head swivelled around the room. It was her.
“What do you think you are doing” his voice carries through the now quiet room, he strides to stand next to Winnie
“Stand at attention.” he snaps
Shooting out of her seat, her hand snaps into attention
“Lieutenant Sobel… sir?” her eyebrows crease slightly “is there a problem sir?”
“Do you enjoy making a mockery of the United States Military Private Hayes?” he sneers
Winnie’s face flushes red, All eyes were on her, as she stood at attention, Sobel not saluting her. She had never felt so much hatred for a man, and she’s known him less than twelve hours.
“It’s Sargent” she mutters
“Are you disagreeing with a commanding officer private” the look he gives is one of total contempt, she was beneath him and he wanted her to know it. Still he salutes her.
“It’s. sergeant.” her teeth grit
“Are you implying that your commanding officer is wrong, private Hayes” His tone implied that he was right, even if he wasn’t. A challenge. And boy does she like a challenge
“When my commanding officer refers to me using the wrong rank, then it would seem he, is in fact wrong” she narrows her eyes “my rank may not be from the United States Military, but it is in every way, a rank. I worked for that rank and it would be appreciated if my commanding officer would acknowledge that fact… Sir”
A low whistle settles through the crowd, a soft “oh shit” comes from one of the easy men
“Winnie-“ shifty’s plea is cut off but an angry Sobel
“Respect seems to not be taught in your country. You will not have such blatant disrespect for a commanding officer.” Sobel seethes, a vein popping in his forehead “you will leave the remainder of your meal, and run currahee with your pack. And you will run it without drinking from your canteen, until you understand what respect is.”
Winnie’s jaw clenches so hard she fears she may have cracked a tooth. She tries to not glare at her CO.
“Do i make myself clear.” he asks, his voice low and threatening
“Yes. sir.” she grits out. Saluting.
——
The Georgian air was much warmer at night than Africa or New Guinea. But with the added weight of a full pack, complete with her canteen and new boots. New unbroken boots. Winnie was slowly warming up. The weight was not a new feeling. Carrying all her belongings, her comrades, weapons, anything of importance up the treacherous slopes and hills of Kokoda, the pack was not her worry for her punishment.
The lack of food, even if it tasted like wet cardboard and had the consistency of beans in jelly, was sustenance. And was she going to need that right now. By the time she reached her second dessent from currahee, Winnie noticed the little swirls in her vision. Still, she refused to drink from her canteen. She may be hot headed but she was not crazy enough to disobey a direct order such as this one.
Her feet felt like she was dragging them through the muddy walkways on New Guinea. Like she was up to her calves in mud so wet it was like quicksand. She felt like the world was on her shoulders, Hike three up Currahee left black dots in her vision. But Winnie was nothing if not stubborn, and if she was told to hike, well she was going to hike, if it meant proving her CO wrong.
The fall broke her nose. Atleast, she’s pretty sure it did. She can’t exactly see or hear who was talking to her, but she’s pretty sure he said the words ‘broken’ and ‘idiotic’. The stars looked pretty from here. It’s been so long since she’s been able to lay and watch the sky
“-an you hear me?” a southern drawl sounds
“What?” a mumbled response, as she rolls her neck side to side
“I said can you hear me?” the man asks, he had a rather deep voice. it was comforting however, rather than intimidating
“Yeah” groaning at the now present pain in her face, Winnie forced herself into a sit
“Take it easy, you hit your head pretty hard” he mumbles
“What happened?” Winnie blinks a few times, clearing the spots in her vision, her nose throbbed, and she was sure it needed to be reset
“You broke your nose” He answers off handedly, reaching up to feel around her nose
“How do you know.” Defensively Winnie pulls away from his hands “stop touchin’ me, you can’t just touch people without asking, especially when i don’t know you”
“Would ya stop bein’ difficult and let me fix it” he sighs, his accent getting thicker in irritation
“No. I don’t know you, how do i know you won’t just make it worse” tilting her head defiantly
He sighs in irritation
“Eugene Roe, medic” he drawls “now will you let me fix the nose ‘fore it gets worse”
reluctantly, she nods. Staring at the man with curiosity. He was handsome, there was no denying that. But he was reserved, not in the way Shifty was, like Eugene Roe was purposely closing himself off.
“i’m gonna set it now” he warns “one. two-“
A loud crack sounds through the air, followed swiftly by a string of curses. Winnie now hated yanks and their medics.
——
A/N: HI! i really hope you enjoyed chapter two of hiraeth! it will start to pick up shortly, but unfortunately the only way this chapter was getting written was if it was a ‘building chapter’ nonetheless i hope you enjoyed!
TAG LIST: @malarkgirlypop @mads-weasley @footprintsinthesxnd @bucky32557038ww2 @grumpy-liebgott @executethyself35
#hiraeth#hiraeth fic#hiraethoc#winnie hayes oc#winnie hayes#winnie#band of brothers fic#band of brothers fanfiction#band of brothers#babe heffron#ronald speirs#bandofbrothers#dick winters#eugene roe#george luz#hbowar#band of brothers#donald malarkey
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Epiphany Pt. 3: Haunted
Lewis Nixon x Reader
Masterlist
Series Masterlist
A/N: hey guys!! i had originally planned for operation market garden to be one chapter, but there were just too many things that i wanted to add, so it will be split up into at least two! hbo owns the rights, and this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!
Summary: Things aren't as cut and dry as they seem when Easy jumps into Holland for Operation Market Garden, and (y/n) faces a heartbreaking reality.
Word Count: 3.4k
Warnings: slightly graphic mistreatment of women (eindhoven scene)
SEPTEMBER 13, 1944: ALDBOURNE, ENGLAND
The pub was alive, bustling with half-drunken paratroopers when (y/n) arrived with Skip, Alex, and Don. They were missing their fifth member who they spotted across the bar playing darts with Buck.
“How much money do ya’ think he’s lost?” Skip asked, snickering as they made their way through the crowd to an empty table.
(Y/n) grimaced. “As long as he’s not asking me for a loan again, I don’t care. He still owes me $20.”
“Ehh, you’re probably not gonna get that back, (y/n/n), Penkala laughed, throwing an arm over her shoulder. “You should know George well enough by now.”
“Well, the first twenty bucks he gets is mine tonight, boys.”
Finding a booth in the corner, Don, Skip, and (y/n) plopped down while Alex went to get them drinks. They looked around the room and observed some of Bull’s new squad replacements sitting nearby.
“They don’t look older than twelve,” Skip scoffed, shaking his head.
Don smacked the side of his head, rolling his eyes. “Skip, you don’t look much older than twelve, alright, so ease up.”
“You’re telling me you don’t even feel a litt-”
“No,” (y/n) interrupted. “I don’t. They’re here the same reason we are.”
Before Skip could argue back, Alex returned with their drinks, and the first thing (y/n) did was gulp hers. To her dismay, Alex had started to ramble about the replacements to Skip, and the pair picked up right where she’d cut him off. With a sigh, she got up and walked over to George, Buck, Toye, and a replacement, who were crowded around the dartboard. They all watched Buck as he lined up a shot.
“Here we go. One shot. Here we go,” he muttered to himself.
When she slid into the space beside George, he smirked with a wink, nodding toward Buck, as if to say, ‘Look at this.’
“Lieutenant,” he began. “You gonna shoot lefty all night?”
Toye and the red-headed replacement’s faces fell, and (y/n) took a sip of her drink to hide her smirk.
Joe looked between George and Buck in disbelief. “Hey, come on,” He groaned.
“Just curious,” George continued, “‘Cause he’s right-handed.”
A sly smile grew on Buck’s face as he switched sides and lined up his shot. “George. What would I do without George Luz?”
The group watched as the dart left Buck’s hand and hit the bullseye dead on.
“Boop!”
Collective groans came from Joe and the replacement at George’s antics as he turned to the men. “Goodness, gracious!”
“Two packs, gentlemen,” Compton announced, holding out his hand.
“I know you’ve got them. Pay up.”
Joe looked at (y/n) who was still smirking into her drink. “You gonna let them screw us like that, (y/n)?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I didn’t see anything, Joe.”
Rolling his eyes, Toye grumbled as he placed a pack of cigarettes in Buck’s outstretched hand before walking off. The replacement approached (y/n) with a nervous smile, and she had to agree with Skip that he did look twelve, even if he towered over her.
“Heffron,” he introduced, holding out his hand. “Babe Heffron. Nice to meet you. The guys have told me nothing but great things.”
She shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Babe. You’re in Bull’s squad, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Raising her eyebrows, (y/n) snorted. “Ma’am makes me sound like an old woman. Call me (y/n).”
“Yes, ma’a-, I mean, (y/n),” he corrected, his face turning crimson.
Seeing the flash of a familiar silver flask near the door, (y/n) nodded at Babe. “It was nice meeting you, Heffron. You’re in good hands with Bull.”
She found him sitting at a table with Harry Welsh, who looked more tipsy than usual. “(Y/n). Speak of the devil. We wer-”
Nix’s eyes widened, and he kicked Harry discreetly under the table. “You meet the new replacements?” He asked as if Welsh hadn’t spoken.
Raising an eyebrow, she sat in the empty seat beside Lew. “What was that, Lieutenant?”
“Uhh, we were gonna ask you about the replacements,” he replied slowly, glancing at Nix for confirmation.
Though she didn’t understand Harry’s odd behavior, she didn’t push it. “They seem nice. I’ve just met Heffron after George and Buck conned him playing darts.”
Lew took a swig of his flask, throwing an arm on the back of (y/n)’s chair, his fingertips lightly brushing her shoulder. “Bull will take care of them,” he began. “He’s a good sergeant.”
(Y/n) nodded, unsure of her voice at his subtle touch. One touch and she was down for the count. Thinking back to D-Day and the way he held her, heat spread through her. She looked down at the drink in her hand and realized she needed a refill.
“I’ll be right back. I’m gonna get another drink,” she announced, getting up from her seat.
Lew got up, too, grabbing his signature flask. “I’ll come with. Harry, don’t cause too much trouble while we’re gone, alright?”
He rolled his eyes, shooing them away with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, yeah. Go on. I’ll survive.”
The duo made their way for the crowd before leaning against the bar.
“I thought you only drink VAT-69,” she questioned, motioning to the barkeep for two beers.
Nix faced her, his eyes scanning her face. “My supply is running low, so I’ve gotta cut back until I can get some more.”
The bartender returned with two beers and she gratefully took them, returning to their table with Nix in tow. As soon as they sat down, he placed his arm around her chair once again, and she took a big sip of her drink, knowing she would need it to make it through the night.
“So, how’s the officer’s life treating you two?” She asked, trying to hide the blush that crept up her neck.
Harry took a deep breath. “Well…”
An hour and a few drinks later, (y/n) was throwing her head back in laughter at something Harry said. Nix just chuckled beside her, knowing she was drunk due to the fact Harry’s comment wasn’t funny at all.
Her head felt as if was stuffed with cotton, and the world was tilted slightly off its axis, but regardless, she was chatting away with the two Lieutenants.
“Ya’know,” she giggled, waving her hands around emphatically. “Kitty’s a lucky gal ‘ta have ya, Har. Outta all-”
Her hand caught a glass and sent it flying, beer spilling across the table.
“Oh no.”
Lew stood up and gently grasped her elbow, helping her to her feet. “Come on, doll. You’ve had enough.”
“Lewis,” she whined. “I’m not drunk.”
His chuckled. “Really?”
“Uh, ‘yeh.”
“Okay,” he smirked, pointing behind her. “Try to walk to Luz.”
(Y/n) nodded and wobbly took one, two, three steps before tilting to her right, arms flailing. Luckily, Lew was ready and caught her by her waist effortlessly.
“I guess I am drunk,” she murmured into his shoulder.
Her attempt gained the attention of her squadmates who still sat at the same table from hours earlier. Don and George walked over, faces painted with concern.
“She alright?” Luz asked with a grimace.
“Yeah. She’s just a lightweight,” Nixon smirked, glancing down at the woman in his arms. “I’m gonna take her home.”
Lifting her head off his shoulder, she looked up at him. “Already there,” she whispered to herself.
To her dismay, Don had heard it, and the man’s eyes became saucers as he realized what she meant. Everything clicked in his head.
“Yeah,” he smiled. “I’ll get someone to check on her in the morning.”
With a curt nod, Nix led her out of the pub and was hit with a wave of sharp, chilly air that had her huddling closer to him. He had a secure hand around her waist, keeping her upright as they walked down the cobblestone streets of Aldbourne.
“You alright down there?” He asked, squeezing her hip gently.
(Y/n) basked in his warmth. “I like it when you hold me.”
The man got choked up on his saliva and coughed a few times at her confession.
“Well,” he began slowly, staring down at her, the moonlight illuminating her face. “I like to hold you.”
“Why?”
A smile formed on his lips. “You can ask me when you’re sober, but I doubt you’ll remember any of this, sweetheart.”
She nodded once against his shoulder as they turned onto her street. Aldbourne was a quiet town, especially on a Sunday night. It was easy for one to find themselves getting lost in their thoughts. The soft glow from windows reflecting off the pavement felt like home, even if they were thousands of miles away from theirs.
In different circumstances, Lew could envision him and (y/n) on their way home from a night dancing or movie picture, giggling as young couples do, oblivious to the horrors of the world. But that wasn’t reality. They’d seen the horrors firsthand, and he envied the people who lived and loved in times of peace.
A soft voice broke him from his thoughts. “Thanks.”
Looking up and realizing they’d arrived at her billet, he reluctantly let go of her. He felt the loss of her warmth and reached out to take her hand. “Drink some water, alright? I can’t have you being grumpy tomorrow because you’re hungover.”
She smiled blearily, squeezing his hand. “Thanks for ev’rythin, Lew.”
In a moment of weakness, he sighed and tugged her closer. As Lew’s strong arms wrapped gently around (y/n)’s frame, he felt her heart beating through her chest, as if it were trying to send him a message. The scent of her hair, a delicate mix of her shampoo, and the evening breeze intoxicated his senses. All he could think about was the woman in his arms. Standing there in the warm embrace of a quiet, moonlit night, it was as if the war wasn’t raging around the world. But just as quickly as it had begun, the hug came to an end. They pulled away, eyes meeting for a fleeting moment as if searching for answers in each other’s gaze.
“G’nigh,” she giggled, walking towards her door with unsteady steps.
“Night, sweetheart,”
Once the door had closed and he heard the familiar click of the lock, he backed up onto the street shaking his head with a bashful smile.
“I’m in trouble,” he chuckled, making his way back to the bar.
September 14, 1944: ALDBOURNE, ENGLAND
(Y/n) awoke with a groan, hearing dull raps from the front door beneath her. Each knock was like a drum banging inside her skull as she made her way down the stairs. The family she was staying with was on a weekend vacation, and she was thankful their children wouldn’t see her so hungover.
(Y/n) opened the door, squinting at the bright sunlight. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah,” a kind voice replied. Lip.
Her eyes widened. “Sorry, Car, I didn’t realize it was you.”
“It’s alright,” he began softly. “You weren’t at the pub last night, so I wanted to let you know we’re moving out again.”
Already?.
“Okay. Thanks, Lip,” (y/n) nodded, eyes sinking to the floor as she closed the door.
Great.
September 17, 1944: Operation Market Garden
As Easy Company sat in ditches along the road to Eindhoven, an eerie silence hung in the air. Sure, Allied intelligence suspected the Krauts in the country were mostly old men and kids, but the paratroopers were on their toes, ready for whatever would come next.
(Y/n) was sandwiched between George and Skip, who were grumbling back and forth about a failed darts game the night before.
“Will you two shut up, please?” She laughed softly. “I can’t even hear myself think.”
George smirked, adjusting his helmet. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
A squadron of Allied aircraft roared overhead, and soon after, they approached the town. A window opened, and (y/n) motioned for everyone to get down as she crouched beside a fence. The person pulled out a long orange banner and tied it around the window.
“Okay, hold your fire,” Bull appeared behind them, cigar hanging from his lips.
Staring at the town above her M-1 sight, a deep pang of worry shot through her stomach. Something didn’t feel right.
The paratroopers couldn’t believe their eyes as the people of Eindhoven celebrated their liberation from the German occupation. Bright orange flags flew from every window, and (y/n) found herself smiling at the pure joy that oozed from the town.
(Y/n) and George had gotten separated from the rest of their squad in the crowd as they dodged kisses from the locals. Well, (y/n) dodged their kisses. After a few girls tried to land a smooch on her lips, she removed her helmet, showing she was a woman. Soon the town's men caught on and were trying to do the same.
She tried to push through the crowd as quickly as possible staving off any attempts from them. Looking behind her, she groaned at the empty spot where George had been. “George,” she called, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Luz! Come on!”
A few seconds later, he appeared to her right, fresh red lipstick smeared across his lips that were quirked into a wide grin.
“Gosh, (y/n). Can’t a guy have some fun?” He joked, wiping his mouth with his hand.
Turning around, she rolled her eyes and made her way through an opening in the crowd only to be pulled to the side by her arm. “Hey!”
A familiar Philly accent filled her ears. “Come get in this picture, (y/n)!”
Babe pulled her through the crowd, and George followed, kissing as many girls as he could along the way.
“There they are!” Chuck yelled, throwing his arm around a blonde.
George and Babe stood behind a few kids wearing orange hats and waving flags, all smiling from ear to ear. A wide smile grew on (y/n)’s face as she knelt beside the kids, placing her helmet on the little girl's head beside her. The helmet tipped down, covering the girl’s face except for her crooked, snaggle-toothed smile. (Y/n) quickly fixed it for her, and to her surprise, the little girl threw herself in the woman’s arms. Fighting off tears, she sniffled and hugged the girl back before pointing to the camera.
“Smile, everybody!” (Y/n) announced.
The picture was taken with a click, and (y/n)’s eyes wandered to the left of the cameraman.
She froze, her face falling. Time slowed as she watched the scene unfold before her. A local woman with long, flowing chestnut hair and a confident stride approached Lew. (Y/n) squinted to get a better look, her heart pounding. She watched in disbelief as the stranger reached up and placed a hand on Lew’s cheek, drawing him closer. The world around (y/n) seemed to blur as the stranger’s lips met Lew’s, and they kissed, and he didn't pull away.
Time seemed to stand still for (y/n). She couldn’t comprehend what she was witnessing. Her mind raced with questions.
Why was Lew kissing her?
Her hands clenched into fists, and tears welled up in her eyes. (Y/n) felt like a statue, unable to move or speak as the painful scene played out before her. She knew she had no right to be jealous, but not so deep down, she wished it were her instead. Her heart ached, and her stomach churned with anger, jealousy, and sadness.
George tapped her shoulder, his brows furrowed. “(Y/l/n)? You alright?”
Following her line of sight, he found what she was fixated on and softly sighed.
“He’s an idiot, (y/n/n). Come on,” he murmured, hoisting her up by her arm.
She stood and blinked away angry tears that filled her vision. She knew she had no right to be jealous, but not so deep down, she wished it were her.
A small voice below her broke her train of thought. “Dank,” the little girl nodded, holding out (y/n)’s helmet. She forced a smile and took it from the girl.
George tugged her arm softly, pulling her in the opposite direction of Nix. She blindly followed in a haze, her mind muddied with hurtful thoughts. Townsfolk grabbed at her jacket as she and George made their way to the main town square where 2nd platoon was meeting.
She was snapped out of her mind by the sound of screams. Her head moved on a swivel trying to find the sound’s source. Spotting a circle of citizens up ahead, she pushed past George quickly, squeezing her way through a few men to see inside the circle.
Before her, half-naked women were on their knees, crying as their hair was roughly shaved, leaving them with blood streaking down their necks and faces. Two Dutch resistance fighters bumped past (y/n) with another petrified woman in their arms. They threw her down and began to rip the clothes off her body. (Y/n)’s eyes narrowed as a burning sensation filled her chest.
“Hey!” She cried, shoving one of them away from the woman. “That’s enough!”
The man recovered swiftly, but (y/n) didn’t give up. Unable to bend her to his will, he resorted to dirty tactics, shoving her forcefully and causing her to stumble and fall to the hard cobblestone street with a thud.
“Stomme meid,” he spat.
Stupid girl.
Her unclasped helmet skidded a few feet away as her head came in contact with the road. The impact knocked the wind out of her, leaving her momentarily gasping for breath.
For a few seconds, everyone’s eyes were on the (y/n), then all hell let loose. Easy’s men were trying to get to her with enraged shouts but were unable to get through the crowd. With great effort, (y/n) pushed herself up off the ground, her face flushed but her spirit unbroken. She looked the man squarely in the eyes, refusing to show fear despite the pain in her chest.
The man leered down at her with a smirk as he switched to heavily accentuated English. “Maybe we should teach you a less-”
(Y/n) lost all self-control as her arm reeled back ready to swing, but someone grabbed it tightly and tried to pull her away from the man. Seeing a flash of dark hair, she knew it was him, and her fury only grew. (Y/n) resisted, her heart pounding with adrenaline.
“No, Nix!” She protested, her voice filling with fiery determination. She wriggled free from his grasp for a moment, her eyes still locked onto the resistance fighters. “Let go of me! They can’t do this! We can’t let them do this!”
He stepped in front of (y/n), blocking her view of the confrontation, and looked deeply into her eyes. “(Y/n), I know, all right? I wish we could, but we can’t do anything about it.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, she tried to push past him only to hear a tone he had never used with her before.
“Stop! That’s an order, (y/l/n),” he gritted, his heart squeezing in his chest at the words.
(Y/n) stared at the Officer in disbelief.
How dare he not help these poor women?
Tears filled her eyes for the second time that day as she took one more look at the poor woman on the ground. “I’m sorry,” she whispered before shoving her way back through the crowd.
Lew’s eyes followed her until she disappeared into the mob. Sighing, he ran a hand down his face.
What a difference a few days can bring.
One of the men behind him spoke. “She’s a lively one, no?”
“Shut it,” Nix snapped, scooping (y/n)’s discarded helmet off the street.
When he found Dick, Harry, and Buck, he handed the helmet to her platoon leader. “It’s (y/n)’s.”
Buck took it with a nod as the four officers watched the British Armored Division come rumbling down the street.
It was going to be a long operation.
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