#band of brothers imagines
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Born To Be Yours
[One-shot | Sequel to We'll Meet Again]
Eugene Roe x Nurse!Female Reader
Despite the end of the war in Europe, violence still finds its way to the men of Easy company. Thankfully, Eugene knows just where to find you to get them help.
Warnings: Language, Weapons, Canon Typical Violence, Smoking, Treatment of Wounds, Medical Procedures, Hospital Settings, Questionably Written Cajun Accent, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [Kissing, Necking, Dry Humping] - 18+ ONLY
Author’s Note: Slight warning - the events of this fic are centered around the shooting of Sergeant Charles E Grant. The title of this fic is based off the song 'Yours' by Vera Lynn. For your reference, the Cajun pronunciation of cher, Eugene's term of endearment for the reader, is 'sha.' Just to help you really imagine it in your head. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.
Word Count: 3887
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This kind of thing wasn’t supposed to be happening. Not here in Austria after the surrender of the German army. Not today, the anniversary of D-Day. And yet here Eugene sat, balanced over a stretcher bearing a motionless Grant, holding an IV of blood above his head as Speirs sped down the road toward Saalfelden where the 47th Field Hospital was set up on the edge of town. Talbert rode in the front seat, frequently glancing back at them over his shoulder.
It was a miracle Grant was still breathing after receiving the headwound, continued to breathe through the frantic bandaging and loading onto Speirs’ jeep.
“Where’s the nearest surgeon?” The Captain had barked and Gene had answered easily, known it immediately, because the nearest surgeon was with you.
After parting ways in Titz, following that very eventful Easter Sunday, your hospital had stayed precisely where it was intended to be – twenty-five kilometers behind the line as they advanced across Germany. You had surprised Eugene by sending your next letter not by post, but in the pocket of an ambulance driver who had been all too happy to receive a pack of smokes from you for his trouble. Your ingenuity had opened his eyes, and he’d sent his own reply back two days later, postage paid with chocolate from his rations.
Being able to write one another without the censors having a say, to share every detail of your daily lives without fear of the letter going missing – as long as you each chose a trustworthy deliveryman of course – was a relief after all the delays in communication the pair of you had previously endured. Eugene was admittedly disheartened when he learned that your station in Austria would be in Saalfelden with the majority of the 101st Airborne while Easy and the rest of 2nd Battalion found themselves a further seventeen kilometers down the road in Zell Am See.
There remained a remarkable number of things for him to do, and the lack of ambulance traffic, while a blessing, severely impeded your correspondence once more. In short, Eugene was feeling awfully guilty about the fact that he had not managed to visit you since the war in Europe had ended. As the jeep pulled up outside the requisitioned gymnasium that had been turned into the 47th Field Hospital, he was not certain if he hoped you were there or not.
He jumped off the back of the vehicle as Speirs and Talbert grabbed each end of the stretcher and the three of them rushed toward the building. Eugene hurried a few steps ahead to pull the door open, wincing a little as Speirs shouldered it open fully, sending into the wall with a ‘bang.’ There was a scurry of footsteps from down a hallway to the right before you stepped into view, clad in your white and brown striped hospital dress, a brown cardigan over top with the sleeves pushed up to your elbows. Concern etched your features.
“Follow me.” You said quickly, rushing to pull open the next door into the gymnasium itself. “On the table right there please, sir.” You gestured to a makeshift exam table built of filing cabinets and a cot.
“Chief Nurse?” A young woman poked her head out from behind a privacy screen and Eugene nearly tripped over his own feet.
Last he’d heard you were Assistant Chief Nurse, promoted after your natural leadership of the group of nurses during your nine hours of capture. You’d gone and gotten yourself promoted again. He fought the urge to grin at you proudly as they carefully set Grant down as instructed.
“Shirley, go fetch Dr. Brock from his office immediately.”
“We need a surgeon.” Speirs rasped and Eugene watched the girl halt her progress across the room and look back to you questioningly.
“Dr. Randall then, quickly.” You amended, shifting to begin triage on the patient by checking his vitals as Speirs took Grant’s hand in his tightly.
Shirley fled the room, returning in less than a minute with a dark-haired man wearing a white coat in tow – surely Dr. Randall. A cigarette hung for his lips as he looked to Eugene for the hand off.
“Shot in the head with a pistol, maybe twenty minutes ago? Bandaged and given blood by IV.”
He saw Shirley hand you a chart out of the corner of his eye and you quickly noted these things along with the vitals you’d been taking when the surgeon had walked in. Dr. Randall leaned down to lift the bandages, inspecting Grant’s wound.
“Jesus.” He muttered.
“What?” Speirs asked, looking to him quickly.
“He’s not gonna make it.” Dr. Randall said, taking a slow drag on his cigarette.
“Ya can’t operate on him?” Eugene asked incredulously. This man was a surgeon, this was his job.
“Not me. You’d need a brain surgeon. And even if you had one, I don’t think there’s any hope.” Dr. Randall rubbed at his eyes, obviously just as worn out from the endless number of casualties he’d born witness to, before walking off.
Eugene’s eyes slid to meet yours where you remained next to the spot recently vacated by Dr. Randall; felt his throat clench painfully at the look of deep sympathy you were sending him.
Speirs took a breath and turned to Talbert, breaking the stunned silence that had fallen over the group. “You find the shooter, I want him alive.” He pointed at him for emphasis before turning back to Eugene. “Come on help me.”
“What’re you doing?” Talbert asked, grabbing the end of the stretcher.
“We’re gonna go find a brain surgeon!” Speirs declared before they were off and running back towards the door.
“There’s a German hospital further into town, follow this road for five blocks then hang a left.” You spoke quickly, hurrying to hold open the doors to ease their progress back to the jeep.
“Thank ya, Ma’am.” Eugene nodded quickly, ducking slightly as it had begun to lightly rain while they were inside.
“Take care.” Your voice shook a little and Eugene looked back to you once he’d resumed his perch on the back of the jeep, watching you wrap your cardigan tighter around yourself as you stood in the rain, staring at him intently until the vehicle jerked into motion as Speirs took off in the direction you had instructed.
The hospital was easy enough to find, thanks to your directions, and Talbert secured another jeep there to carry out Speirs’ orders to find the shooter. The brain surgeon was not currently on duty, but Speirs was undeterred and demanded his home address, from which he fetched him out of bed to operate immediately.
“It will take several hours.” The German surgeon had warned them when Speirs had asked where the waiting room was.
“We’ll wait.” He had replied flatly, and Eugene had followed after him as a nurse led them into an empty room filled with worn chairs and a few side tables with outdated German periodicals.
Eugene watched Speirs sink into one of the chairs while he found himself unable to sit down, wandering the perimeter of the room quietly, mind turning over all manner of things, but always coming back to how reluctant you had looked to see him go. The guilt within him had multiplied astronomically – he had been a fool to not rush to see you the instant he could, and now your first interaction since Easter was purely professional and surely terrifying. Precisely why he had been so very reluctant to admit his feelings to you in the first place.
“Doc, if you’re not going to sit down, go talk to that pretty Chief Nurse, would you?” He muttered, pulling the garrison cap from his hair.
Eugene’s head whipped up to look at his commanding officer in shock. Shock at the fact that Speirs had had the wherewithal to notice the looks you had been exchanging over Grant’s prone form. Shock that he was allowing him the liberty to visit you. Pure shock.
“Otherwise, it’s going to be a very long couple of hours.” There was a dangerous edge to the man’s voice that made Eugene swallow nervously and nod sharply.
“Yes sir, I’ll be back in a few hou’s then, sir.” He moved to slip out of the waiting room.
“Be careful out there, Doc.” Came Speirs’ parting command and Eugene nodded once more before heading out into the street, thankful that the blackout was no longer in effect and he had the assistance of streetlights to retrace his steps back to the Field Hospital.
He made a much quieter entrance this time, finding the nurse, Shirley, at the desk near the door in the gym.
“Oh, you’re the medic from earlier – how is your man?” She asked in a hushed voice as she stood.
“In surgery with a German brain surgeon now…I was wonderin’ if I migh’ speak ta you’ Chief Nurse?” He tilted his head, and she nodded quickly leading him down the hall to an unassuming office door.
“She’s still here, working late again.” She laughed softly and knocked.
“Thank ya, Ma’am.” He nodded as she nodded in return before heading back into the gym as your door swung inward.
“Gene…” You breathed in surprise, peering into the hallway as if to confirm he was truly alone.
“Cher…” He murmured in response, tremor in his own voice this time, and your fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulling him into the moderately sized office.
Your arms pulled him into a tight embrace as you nudged the door shut with your foot. He buried his face into your hair, fingers curling into the knit of your cardigan against your back.
“I’m right here, Gene.” You sighed soothingly, arms holding him so tightly, so warmly, Eugene was convinced you might actually be able to fuse his broken pieces back together. To make him feel whole again.
“Merci, cher.” He managed to find his voice after a moment, pulling back slightly only to press his lips to yours tightly in a physical expression of his gratitude.
Eugene felt the tremble that rolled through your body in response, his hands gripping you tighter as your fingers wended their way into his hair making him shudder in return. There was something about your touch tonight that felt like he was playing with fire, your entire presence loaded with explosive charge that could set him off at any moment. He pulled his lips back quickly before he did something wildly inappropriate in your office and panted against your mouth.
“M’sorry I haven’ come ta visit ya.”
Your response was a breathless laugh that made him bite the inside of his cheek.
“I’ve barely left this office. I’m beginning to think this promotion was a curse disguised as a blessing.” You smirked and stole one more kiss from his lips before straightening to look over his face warmly.
“It’s late, and I know ya don’ work nigh’s no mo’e…” He tried to keep the admonishing tone in his voice light, but he was admittedly upset you were working after midnight, something that even he was aware was unusual for a Chief Nurse.
“You know too much, Gene.” Your fingers smoothed his hair gently, restoring order to the strands you had put into disarray, a fond smile stretching his lips as he truly adored hearing you call him ‘Gene.’
His heart had nearly stopped when it had appeared in your letters but to hear it leave your lips was heaven itself.
“Let me walk ya home, tha man who did tha’ is still out the’e.”
He watched your eyes widen before you frowned deeply, shaking your head in dismay. “Did you find the hospital?”
“German brain surgeon’s operatin’ now…”
You took a slow breath before nodding. “I usually have an MP escort me, are you sure you don’t have to get back?”
He shook his head. “Grant’ll be in surgery a few hou’s longah. Cap’n Speirs won’ leave ‘till it’s ovah. Told me ta ‘go talk to that pretty Chief Nurse’ if I wouldn’t sit still.” Gene smirked ruefully and you blinked rapidly before biting your lip.
“Perhaps we have not been nearly as subtle as we thought, Gene…”
He laughed softly under his breath as he watched you turn to collect your things, sliding a small utility bag over your shoulder before turning out the desk light. The desk itself was still covered in stacks of files and he couldn’t help but frown as it seemed that your late nights had barely made a dent in the work your new position had foisted upon you.
“Wait here.” You said once you’d locked your office door and walked a little further down the hall to knock on another door.
He could barely make out another man’s voice, it didn’t sound like Dr. Randall, so presumably Dr. Brock, before you swung by the desk in the gymnasium to wish Shirley a good night. One last stop at the MP office to the left of the entrance where you informed your usual escort you had someone to walk you home before the pair of you were able to step out into the damp night. Thankfully, the rain had stopped falling but the puddles on the ground were plentiful as Eugene offered his arm. He could not help his fond smile as you took it without hesitation, hugging his elbow close as you walked side-by-side.
“I’m quite close to the hospital actually.” You gestured down the road and he nodded, turning that way.
“Tha’s how ya knew…”
Your soft laugh made his stomach quiver slightly though he did not miss the yawn you tried to smother.
“Ya been workin’ late a lot, cher?” He prompted softly, vigilant to your surroundings but so far, the streets were quiet.
“Mm.” You nodded slowly before sighing. “Seems the Chief Nurse before me was not such a fan of paperwork. Maude was a fantastic leader, we’re lucky to have her as the Assistant Director of Austria base, but if I had known what was awaiting me in that office…well I’d probably have asked to help her more when I was her assistant.”
He felt you tug on his arm and looked down to you quickly to see you pointing across the street to a modest apartment building.
“We’re quartered here.”
Eugene nodded and led you across the street as you fished for the keys in your bag. He couldn’t help but notice that you were in fact only a few blocks from the German hospital where Grant was still undergoing surgery. He said another silent prayer to guide the hands of the surgeon to success as you led him up to the building entrance.
A pair of sharp cries cut through the night, making the both of you freeze briefly.
“Hey!”
“Stop right there!”
The voices were still a block or so away, but belonged to men that Eugene knew a well as his own family.
“Inside cher, now.” He said quickly, pulling you toward the building.
“Second floor.” You uttered quickly and he pushed you up the stairs front of him, hands on your hips as he could hear the voices of Talbert and Malarkey growing closer, accompanied by footsteps splashing through puddles and the rumble of a jeep engine close behind.
You stopped at an apartment door and Eugene noted your struggle to line the key with the deadbolt, gently but firmly taking it from you to unlock the door and push you inside. He was quick to close and lock the door behind him, wanting you nowhere near the drunken madman who had already killed at least two people tonight. He heard you take a breath as you turned back toward him and he gently covered your mouth with his palm, shushing you softly as he listened for further noises from the street below.
They sounded as if they were right outside, their voices rising up through the stairwell as his wide eyes bored directly into yours.
“Yeah, that’s him!”
“Get in the jeep you son of a bitch.”
The sound of the engine faded off into the night and Eugene waited a full minute before lowering his hand from your mouth, the only sound remaining being the pounding of his heart in his ears. He heard you suck in a breath, the only warning he was afforded before your lips collided with his. He stumbled slightly, startled a moment, before the adrenaline in his veins was transformed into white hot desire. His hands clutched at your lower back, pulling you tightly against him as he blindly stumbled toward the doorway he had glimpsed upon entering your apartment.
He felt your body impact with something behind you and pulled back from your lips quickly to see he had backed you into the kitchen table. He felt you rise up onto your toes, seemingly intent on sitting on the tabletop and his hands quickly seized your hips, aiding you in your efforts by hoisting you the last bit of distance. He could not help the smirk that graced his features as you gasped at his strength; hard-won through years of training and carrying wounded from the battlefield. His mouth quickly returned to yours, shuddering as your tongue met his eagerly, your fingers once more burrowing into his hair.
Eugene’s lungs began to ache from a lack of oxygen and he reluctantly pulled back from your lips only to begin trailing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your throat. Your shaky exhale filled his ears as your fingers began to tug at the buttons of his OD jacket, sending his own in search of the same on your cardigan. As he pushed the fabric out of the way, he slid his hands along your sides, sucking at the hollow of your throat, exhaling hotly against your skin as you parted your legs for him.
“Cher…” He rasped against your skin, gulping at the whimper that fell from your lips as he stepped closer, nestling between your thighs.
Your body felt so hot against him, even through his ODs and wool trousers, he was helpless not to press as tightly to you as possible, not even leaving a hairsbreadth of space. Your fingers curled into the front of his wool shirt, hips bucking against his slightly as you whimpered again.
“Gene!” Your gasped and he kissed you fiercely as his lower abdomen grew heavy with arousal, blood rushing to his already hardening length as he rutted against you obligingly.
The moan that rattled from your throat into his mouth had his head swimming, his baser instincts immediately taking over, demanding he do anything and everything to draw that sound from you again and again. His hands shifted to grip your thighs, pulling your body even tighter to his as he continued to move against you, delighting in your repeated cries of pleasure which he devoured hungrily. He barely noticed your persistence against the buttons of his uniform shirt until he felt your hands sliding around his torso with only the thin barrier of his undershirt separating your skin, a groan falling from his lips as he tore them from yours.
“Merde.” He hissed, screwing his eyes shut against the salaciously delicious friction between your bodies.
“Mm! I know that one…” You giggled breathily against his neck before your lips were on his skin, making his hips rock sharply against yours.
“Feel so good, cher.” He groaned again, hands shifting beneath the hem of your dress, beneath the hem of your slip, to find the bare skin of your thighs. Quite possibly the softest thing he’d ever touched.
“Yes, Gene.” You whined against his kiss-dampened skin. “Don’t stop.”
He grunted in agreement, fingers tracing higher to grip your hips, increasing the friction yet again as he rutted his fully hard cock against your underwear. The moan that fell from your lips contained an almost anguished tone and he had to grit his teeth against the desire to climax at just the sound of it. Your fingers were digging into his back through the cotton of his undershirt, hips echoing every motion of his as his fingers delved past the edge of your underwear to curl into the soft flesh of your buttocks.
“Oh god Gene I’m…” You panted, head rolling back, and he nodded vigorously, eyes latching onto your face, desperate to watch you fall apart in his arms.
Eugene had long been convinced that you could do everything with grace, and you once again proved his assumption correct as your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks, your mouth falling open to emit a soft wail of pure ecstasy. Burying his face against your neck, he cursed harshly as his hips bucked sharply, all sense of rhythm and control abandoning him as his orgasm immediately overtook him. Sliding one hand out from beneath your skirt to brace against the table lest he collapse onto you, he smiled sheepishly as you grinned up at him, your lower lip caught beneath your teeth.
“Sorry, Gene…” You murmured, running your hands along his back soothingly, your chests brushing against one another as you both struggled to catch your breath.
He shook his head quickly and then tensed. “Do ya….are ya the only one billeted in he’e?” He glanced back toward the hallway, suddenly aware of how much noise the pair of you had made.
Your bright peal of laughter caught his attention, and he turned back to you quickly.
“You ask me that now, Gene?!” You teased, gripping the back his neck to pull him down for a lazy kiss as he huffed a laugh against your lips in reply. “No, just me. Chief Nurse perk.”
He relaxed with a nod, straightening slowly as his legs finally felt like solid muscle and bone once more.
“The washroom is just down the hall if you wa–”
“Be my wife.” The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them.
He had intended to make more of a spectacle of it. Hell, he had intended to have a ring to put on your finger. But the way you were looking up at him now with glossy eyes still hazy with pleasure, crinkled at the corners as you smiled his favorite smile to date – he was helpless to hold them back.
Eugene held his breath as he watched your eyes widen, your mouth drop open, as his unexpected statement hung in the air.
“Are you…proposing to me Eugene Roe?” You exhaled and he gulped roughly.
“I understand if ya don’ wanna marry me, I still have ta go ta tha Pacific an’…”
“How could I say no, Gene, when I was born to be yours.” You eyed him softly but there was something about your words, and the way your lips were twitching with mirth, that tugged at the back of his brain.
“Cher are ya quotin’ Vera Lynn again?” He huffed and grimaced playfully at your answering laugh, yet felt his heart begin to beat double time as your hands cupped his cheeks and your expression grew serious.
“Eugene Roe, I would love to be your wife.” You nodded firmly and sealed your acceptance with a firm kiss that made his heart soar.
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Band of Brothers Masterlist
Tag list: @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos, @bcon24, @phyllisthefirst, @footprintsinthesxnd, @she-wolf09231982
#eugene roe x reader#eugene roe imagine#eugene roe imagines#band of brothers x reader#band of brothers imagines#band of brothers imagine#hbo war fanfic#hbo war fic#eugene roe#band of brothers
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Would you please write a headcanon for Malarkey, Babe, Chuck, Shifty, Liebgott, Winters (and anyone else you'd like to do) about them seeing you dressed "like a girl" for the first time. I mean all pin up looking and everything (tastefully of course though). Maybe you had to wear army fatigues just like the rest of the guys (and of course no makeup or ability to do your hair or wash everyday) and that's the only way they've really ever seen you. But you finally get the chance to really dress up for once (you're a girly girl). I'd love to know what you see their reactions being.
Oooooo being a girly girl myself I LOVE this concept!!
Easy Boys x Reader - how they react to you dressed up.
Don Malarkey:
Normally Don would just muck around with you, he’d think you’re beautiful either way but he feels comfortable with you to joke around like he would similar to how he is with the guys.
so when you walk into that pub one day all dressed up like one of those pin up girls he’d seen in the magazines? Good lord-
Eyes pop out of his head fr.
double takes- cos he’s so mf stunned like- it ignites something deep inside of his body and every single inch of his body is on fire.
I feel like he’d sorta look at you differently when you’re having a conversation, like he’d be smiling and blushing- I think he’d be stammering, maybe he couldn’t hold eye contact as often?
like he’d suddenly stop throwing jokes in your direction and actually engages in a more quieter and normal? Conversation. Like you’d probably be so confused until one of your friends tells you why you’re so nervous.
unlike the other guys, I don’t think he’d make a move, not that night anyway. He’d probably be too nervous. I think after that he’d be a little more nervous around you, maybe he’d be fearful some other guy has swooped you up before he could???
Babe Heffron:
I feel like Babes reaction would depend on if he’s had a few to drink or not. But let’s say he’s sober?? We’ll set the scene in Austria, you finally have access to pretty clothes and makeup again- which you missed so dearly throughout the war.
slowly you’re doing yourself up again, getting used to being around the men all dressed up- I think it would be super nerve wracking.
Ofc all the men notice cos their jaws are on the floor, but Babe’s mind is lost. He knows that he feels the strongest out of all of these guys, you took such good care of him in Bastogne and his soft spot for you becomes well- a big fat crush that he can no longer hide.
He takes some hyping up from Ramirez and whoever else before he scurries up besides you, walking as smoothly at he can, looking all handsome in his uniform.
“Hey y/n.”
“oh hey, Babe!”
“you look real pretty y’know.”
then it would be your turn to be a blushing mess, he’s grinning towards you with a sparkle in his eyes, and although he’s nervous the genuine desire and longing for you is obvious.
“Thank you, Babe! You look real good in your uniform too.” He doesn’t expect you to throw a compliment back so for a second he’s turned away from you with a shit eating grin on his face.
“Yeah well, ya’ hair looks real nice too.” The boys deffo told him to compliment your hair and your eyes- and that’s what script he sticks to at first before growing enough confidence to genuinely compliment everywhere else on your face (and body??)
Ur bum looks real good in the dress you were, and if Babe thought you were beautiful in your army fatigues, oh my goddddddd-
Babes just a sucker, he often looks stunned and in awe of you- because that’s what he would be, real complimentary to the point you have no option but to just kiss him.
plus at the end of the night when you two have spent some time together, he loves to twist his finger through the loosened curls in your hair.
Chuck Grant:
Probs one of the men that giggles and woops at you when you walk into the small pub the troops have taken over in Holland.
ofc it’s all fun and games they’re ur friends and by no means are objectifying you.
but anyway Chuck is all amused at first, but his smile slowly fades when he feels the fluttering of his heart and stomach and oh fuck- he’s in love with you.
he knew it before, but now seeing the way all these men are looking at you in your pretty dress with your hair and makeup all done- noooo, he has to make you his there and then.
“Later, suckers.” He’d take a last swig of his drink before carrying it in his hand, sliding away from the table and approaching you. At first he’s oozing with confidence, hyped up from his cheering friends, but when he actually gets close and sees your red painted lips smiling up to him he’s a gonner.
“Uh hey… can I sit?” He awkwardly spokes, it’s a little funny but you’d find him so cute and ofc he’s fucking handsome asf so you oblige.
Accidentally stares in awe when you’re topping your lipstick up.
“You want some?” You’d tease and his lips would pull into a charming smile. “Yeah, but not from the stick.”
oooo the flirtation would be on the second he gets a little buzzed from the alcohol, you’re clearly flirting back and not to sound rude because it’s obviously consensual- but Grant can’t keep his hands to himself.
seriously he’s never seen your body so…. Tight? Like your outfit is still modest but hugging you in all the right places, if you move onto his lap at some point in the night he’ll probs get a boner.
deffo goes back to his bed that night with a smirk and red lipstick stains everywhere.
Shifty Powers:
Ugh shifty, shifty, shifty, where do I start?
yeah he’s super respectful and sweet, we all know that, but he deffo has a smart side to him. Let me explain.
when you walk into that ‘pub’ in Austria, all dolled up, he’s smirking and hiding behind his cup, eyes roaming a little too far down your body than he intends to.
he’s love struck, like he already knew you were the most beautiful thing on this planet, but now you’re a god damn Angel.
but when you’d come to sit with him out of all the other guys, again, he’d be smirking behind his pint glass.
“Y’know you look real beautiful, Y/n.” He’d give you the most genuine and kind compliment you’ve received all night, he’d hook his arm around yours to walk you somewhere, ugh he’d probably come across really calm??
I do think Shifty would be sweatinggggg, like boy he’s nervous on the inside, and when you clasp your hand with his he’s gulping.
not to sound crude, but he probably hasn’t seen a woman in a while, not one as amazing as you- so he gets a little hot and bothered when your hand runs over his shoulder.
he’s not one to be too forward, I think he’d be more traditional so he wouldn’t necessarily make a move on you- but he’d tell you how he feels there and then.
being honest he wants you soooooo bad, he feels the ache in his chest even just glancing at you. Plus, Shifty can tell you’re glowing both inside and out, he’d probably pick up on that and make you swoon like you’ve never before.
Joe Liebgott
Listen Joe has been knowing ur attractive for a realllllll long time. Like im talking since Toccoa and all.
But nothing comes of it so he treats you like his little sister, like similar to Malarkey he’d joke around with you, ruffle your hair- he likes that you’re not afraid to get dirty and have a little fun.
like he’d probably rugby tackle you (gently?) because he knows you’re so just down to earth and cool.
so he hold off all the compliments or what not and his flirtation is more through playfulness?? Like you just have a bond and he fucking loves ya- he tells you all the time, but all of a sudden you walk in looking like a fucking pin up model and he gasp- loves you in a way that isn’t so… platonic?
uhhhh Joe’s shifting in his seat, eyes fixated and mouth slightly hung open. Has to tense his jaw and blink away just so nobody see’s him looking like a creep.
doesn’t know how to act around you?? Like he’s acting all nervous and awkward because you’re so fucking beautiful and done up and god, all the men want you in there.
tries to be mean as a form of flirting, but that doesn’t work- it goes badly wrong so he ends up chasing you out of the pub, grabbing at your waist.
“Hey, y/n, slow down. I didn’t mean it like that!”
“Then how did you mean it, Joe?! You think I look tacky!”
“No I don’t! I really don’t!” He kinda laughs again and you attempt to shrug him off but uhhh he get carried away and the feelings just fall out his mouth.
“Truthfully-” “shut up, Joe.”
“No, truthfully, I think ya look gorgeous. Like shit doll, I think I’ve fallen in love with ya.”
The admission is only followed by more and more and he blurts out how nervous you made him feel- his ability to express emotion all these years later surprises you and you’d just kiss him so quickly he almost stumbles off his feet.
tells you you should dress up more often like that for him.
Dick Winters:
Ummmmmm probably already with you?? Winters has seen you all dressed up before but after a particular long time of seeing you struggling, he’s in awe to see you looking so radiant and happy.
watches from afar with the most loved up feeling ever, he’s extremely secure in your relationship, yet still oogles in utter awe from you.
has to put up with the other men (they don’t know about your relationship) staring and gawking, he legit has to close Babe’s mouth for him??
but seriously, he just smirks when he sees you laughing at the men’s advances on you cos he knows he’ll be the one in bed with you that night.
and you are ugh- he’s so amazing and can’t get over how perfect you looks, he even asks you to leave the dress on when you’re doing the deed 🙈🙈.
“I’m so glad I’ve got you all to myself.” He’d mutter whilst you’re wrapped up in his arms, hair and makeup slightly frazzled.
“Me too, I couldn’t cope for a minute longer not speaking to you out there.”
“And all of them gawking at you… I mean who can blame them, you look absolutely beautiful.”
Lewis Nixon:
Ummm what the fuck? He’s amazed? Jaw is dropped and he has to put his glass to one side whilst Dick pushes his jaw closed for him.
“is that Y/n?” He’d squint, “as in our Y/n?”
wastes no time in getting to know you and sit besides you, it’s not like you two haven’t talked before, but you’ve never really been close or had the chance to be. Now, the war in Europe is over and Lew is divorced, it opens new opportunities- hence why he comes and speaks to you.
a little Dutch courage never did no harm, and in Lewis’ case it began a beautiful relationship. But holy fuck- he’s in complete shock at how beautiful you are, your hairs pinned up to perfection, your makeup is highlighting every feature of your face so perfectly.
you should best believe that your lipstick will be smudged over his thumb and lips later that evening, cos Lewis isn’t one to waste any time…
#Band of brothers x reader#Band of brothers imagines#band of brothers headcanons#don malarkey x reader#babe heffron x reader#chuck grant x reader#joe liebgott x reader#dick winters x reader#lewis nixon x reader#shifty powers x reader
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noises in the bedroom with ron, lew, lieb, luz, and shifty
word count: 770+
warnings: reader has female genitalia, degradation (only in ron's), praise, teasing, i call nixon a whore for the reader (it's true)
notes: i couldn't include babe in this one cause i just decided that i would write for him (and therefore i must do Research) but hope you guys enjoy anyway !!
ronald speirs
big on praise-degradation, like 50/50 on it
unless you managed to really set him off (ex; make him jealous on purpose, tease him, be a brat, etc.), then don't expect very many kind words
he can be so mean and unfair when he wants to, but by the end of it he’s worshiping you like you're a deity
he’ll call you a slut but his slut, yk?
could not care less about who hears — no one's gonna confront him about it anyway with his reputation, and they're definitely not coming up to you either since they know ron is going to be death glaring them the whole time
he groans and grunts huskily + openly and encourages you to not cover up/muffle your sounds with your hand
(quickies are, of course, the exception since that would be unsafe, and if higher-ups are around, obviously he's about to care; in any other situation though, no one is safe from hearing the two of you)
lewis nixon
somehow his moans are louder than yours???
LIKE that's not a bad thing, it just means he's enjoying it just as much as you but he's just so vocal about it, saying your name or princess, doll, sweetheart like his life depended on it
(he's such a whore for you, especially when he goes down on you. you're gonna be feeling the vibrations of his groans bc omg is he obsessed with eating you out…but that's another story)
this is mostly because he also does not care who hears (same exceptions as ron). i imagine dick having to come talk to you all flustered, his face matching his hair and his eyes cast to the ground, asking you guys to keep it down
…nixon definitely didn't get any play for two weeks after that
despite being the #1 slut for you, he still manages to tease you, saying things like, “tell me how bad you want it.” (as if he doesn't want it just as bad)
joseph liebgott
he's probably the biggest pottymouth out of the five
anything he does is followed up by a hoarse “fuck, doll” or “shit, (y/n)”
he's trying to cover up the fact that he's a bit of a whiner/panter
he’ll kiss marks onto and around your breasts to muffle the sound of his moans
definitely says “yeah, you like that?” or “that feel good, baby?” during foreplay, smirking down at you while you’re begging for more (he's a little cocky with it)
becomes soft during and afterwards; he's scared to be vulnerable but he can't help telling you how pretty you look, how good you feel, and how much he loves you
will probably confess some of these things in german so he's not as vulnerable, but you still get the gist either way (and if you do understand german, he's screwed)
george luz
honestly he's just kind of unserious, like this man is giggling he's so happy to be with you (and his laughter and smile are infectious so now you're laughing too and telling him to shut up)
he’ll praise you with jokes, telling you you're prettier than any pinup model
“rita doesn't have anything on you, beautiful.” cue you rolling your eyes with a smile and telling him he’s cheesy
he's a little bit of a cusser too (especially when you play with his hair), not to the level of lieb though
“damn, (y/n), i'm lucky you're all mine.”
eventually the jokes and goofiness dissolve into him straight up telling you how good you feel around him and that you're especially gorgeous like this
+ him confessing his love for you when he's still catching his breath
“(y/n), have i ever told you how much i love you?”
“maybe 100 times today, george”
“oh so not enough then” you kiss him before he can remind you again
shifty powers
loves to praise you (and be praised honestly)
like he swears up and down that you're the most perfect girl alive
he can't believe that you're his and he's yours
kind of shy about his moans but he can't stop himself/hide them well enough because he moans at the slightest touch (he's so in love with you)
whimpers when you say he's making you feel good and “don't stop”
he's definitely asking if you're sure about anything and everything, reminding you that you don't have to go through with this if you don't absolutely want to
you just have to be like “darrell c. powers, please just take me” and lord will he oblige you with the brightest goddamn smile on his face
-
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#ron speirs x reader#lewis nixon x reader#joe liebgott x reader#george luz x reader#shifty powers x reader#band of brothers#band of brothers x reader#hbo war#easy company#101st airborne#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers imagine#hbo war fanfic#band of brothers imagines#ron speirs#ronald speirs#ronald speirs x reader#lewis nixon#joe liebgott#joseph liebgott x reader#joseph liebgott#george luz#shifty powers
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Meine Liebe
Dick Winters x Translator!Reader
Masterlist
Request: @flowers-and-fichte Hey! Thanks for the Chuckler headcanons! They're so cute! I've got another request :) it's BoB-related this time. Winters with a reader who is fluent in German and teaches him to speak it. And then one day he surprises her by speaking it (wedding proposal, just starts talking in it out of nowhere, whatever) to her and it's so freaking cute. Thanks! Take your time :)
A/N: i loved this concept!! thanks for the request! 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!
Word Count: 4k
Warnings: none!
When (y/n) first signed up to be an intelligence translator for the Airborne, she had no idea what was in store for her. Jumping out of planes was expected, but what she couldn’t have expected was a red-headed man named Dick Winters. Nix introduced them in Aldbourne when she joined the company, and something about the Pennsylvanian struck her differently than the other men she’d met. Most eyed her warily, but the man she met that day flashed her a kind smile and a firm handshake, sending an unexpected warmth through her.
“So you’re our new interpreter,” he stated, his polite eyes never leaving hers as he shook her hand.
(Y/n) nodded, her lips quirking into a grin. “Yes, sir. (Y/n) (y/l/n).
“Dick Winters,” he replied, releasing her hand after a few moments. “Welcome to Easy. Please let me know if you need anything.”
Before she could respond, Nix called out to her. “We’ve gotta get to battalion, come on.”
With a final nod to Winters, she saluted and turned on her heel, walking over to Lew who was sitting in the driver's seat of a jeep. “So, you met Dick,” he announced, shifting the jeep into drive. “Whatcha think?”
(Y/n) scoffed lightly as she gazed at the rows and rows of tents that lined the airfield. “I only spoke like two sentences to him, Lew.”
Luckily, Lew and (y/n) grew up in neighboring towns in New Jersey and knew each other through mutual friends. Everyone knew the Nixons for their nitration plant that was in Edison, but (y/n) knew the Nixon boy as the teenager who took her best friend to the prom and got so drunk that he threw up on her beautiful blue dress. Betty still hadn’t gotten over it by the time (y/n) left for basic.
“No sparks flying yet?” he grinned, elbowing her shoulder playfully as he drove. “Give it time. I know it will.”
“What is wrong with you, Lewis?” she asked, her voice tinged with frustration. “I just met the guy! And we’re going off to war for Pete's sake, not some low-crawling pub where men are lined up to dance with me.”
Her job was to decode and translate intercepted German communications, as well as translate in the field and interrogate prisoners if need be. There were times when being the daughter of Austrian immigrants was awful, but other times, it came in handy. Without her parents teaching her their language, she wouldn’t be in her position in the Army.
As the months passed in Aldbourne, (y/n) was swamped with intercepted communications, paperwork, and various intelligence reports. She rarely did anything other than work in her office, growing tiresome of the monotonous click-clack of the typewriter. What little time she did have outside the office was spent either visiting the Blue Boar with the other officers or quietly reading in the fields of wildflowers near her billet.
The sun set perfectly on the lilies and colorful harebells, orchids, and cornflowers that were scattered among the grass. Any chance she got, she’d go lay out a blanket and get lost in the pages of “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn,” escaping the war as the words came to life in her mind. Time seemed to blur as the months stretched on in Aldbourne.
With the follies of the Italian campaign, the Allies knew they had to try a different approach. Nixon and (y/n) had talked about the possible landing locations and tactics, but no plan was in motion quite yet. This did not stop them from preparing for the possibility. Easy’s training got increasingly realistic the further they got into 1944. By early February, Dick, Harry, and the other platoon leaders were brought in on the intelligence officers’ speculations. A few weeks later, (y/n) was working in her office when she heard a knock on the door.
“Come in,” she called, not looking up from her typewriter as she finished a translation.
The door creaked open, and in walked Dick who was wringing his hat between his hands, almost as if he was nervous. “Hi, (y/n). Sorry to disturb you.”
Hearing his voice, (y/n) looked up from the paper, a small smile forming as she took in his timid expression. “Hi, Dick. You’re not disturbing me,” she said, pointing to the large stack of papers on the corner of her desk. “These aren’t going anywhere.”
Dick clasped his hands behind his back and walked closer to the desk. “I wanted to ask you a favor.”
(Y/n) nodded, gesturing for him to sit in the extra chair beside her desk.
Dick sat down and continued. “Would you be able to teach me some basic German? I know that you are fluent in it, so-”
“Of course!” She interrupted, excitement lighting up her features. “I’d love to!”
Dick seemed surprised as he sheepishly smiled at her from across the desk. “It would be useful to know some phrases when we finally get into combat.”
“I think it’s a great idea.”
From that cold February day on, the pair met every Saturday night in (y/n)’s billet. Her host family, the Bennets, insisted on making a big family dinner every time (as large as they could with rationing), treating Dick as one of their own. (Y/n) watched from across the dining room table as he spoke to Mr. Bennet with a polite smile. The golden light from the setting sun filtered through the open blinds, highlighting the soft brown freckles that adorned his face. (Y/n) couldn’t help but admire his handsome features, a thought that she’d kept hidden mainly to keep Nix off her trail about the supposed ‘sparks’ that were supposed to fly between them at some point.
“I was worried about you Yanks, but if they’re all like you lot, I think we’re in good shape,” Mr. Bennet laughed, scooping a forkful of roast into his mouth.
Dick chuckled breathily, his eyes flitting to the (y/h/c) across from him, catching her staring red-handed. “Thank you, sir,” he replied, his face warming under her gaze.
After the dinner table was cleared, they continued their weekly tradition, sitting across from each other once again. “These are pretty basic, but they’re important,” she began, her eyes locking with his. Repeat after me. ‘Guten Abend.’”
Dick listened carefully, his eyes drifting down to her lips before echoing her pronunciation. “Guten Abend.”
“Very good,” (y/n) praised, her smile growing. “Now how about ‘Bitte’ which means ‘please,’ and ‘Danke,’ which means ‘thank you.’
“Next, let’s learn ‘Wie geht es Ihnen?” (y/n) said, her voice taking on a reassuring tone. “It means ‘How are you?’
As they repeated the words together, her beloved language created a unique connection between them that she never thought possible. It felt good to speak the language in situations other than wartime intelligence. As she taught Dick, she fell in love with her family’s native tongue all over again, but that love wasn’t the only thing blossoming in the cozy dining room.
Under the shade of a sturdy tree in the Bennet’s backyard, the late afternoon sun cast a glow over the yard. (Y/n) and Dick sat side by side, leaning against the trunk as they took a short break from their lesson.
(Y/n’s eyes began to droop, fatigue creeping in like a silent intruder. The lines of exhaustion were etched beneath her eyes, and Dick couldn’t help but notice her weariness.
“Are you alright?” he asked gently, leaning closer to her, his brow furrowed in concern.
She sat up straighter, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. “Yeah, I’m just tired,” she admitted, her voice a soft murmur.
Dick turned to her with eyes filled with worry. “Up late doing translations?”
(Y/n) nodded, her shoulders sliming slightly. “Yes,” she sighed, leaning her head back against the hard tree bark. “We’re getting more and more communications every day. It’s hard to keep up.”
Seeing her struggle, Dick scooted closer to her and paused before gesturing to his lap. “Here,” he suggested, his tone gentle. “It’s more comfortable than a tree,”
A small, tired smile crossed (y/n)’s face as she responded with a weary, “Yes, sir,” She laid her head on his lap, peering up at him through heavy-lidded eyes.
Dick felt a warm, protective swell of emotion as she nestled into his lap. Her presence, despite her exhaustion, brought a sense of peace and contentment he hadn’t realized he was missing. He could always show up at her door and have dinner like there wasn’t a war going on. Their routine had developed into what he looked forward to the most as the week went on. Any conversations they managed to have during their daily regimens and workload were filled with smiles and talks of the upcoming weekend, Saturday’s dinner menu, and other little things that reminded him of home.
A soft pink tinge rose from Dick’s neck to his cheeks as he brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Better?” he inquired, his voice a soothing, gentle rumble.
(Y/n) let out a contented sigh, her eyes fluttering closed as she whispered, “Yes, thank you, Dick. I needed this.”
He watched over her with a mix of concern and affection, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on her shoulder. “You’ll work yourself to death in that office, (y/n).”
She squinted one eye open, her gaze focused on him. “I know,” she replied quietly, her voice tinged with desperation, “I can’t rest knowing my family is still stuck there, Dick.”
The lieutenant’s eyes saddened, his heart aching at the raw pain in her voice. He moved his hand from her shoulder to rub her hair back gently. “In Austria?”
(Y/n) nodded, her voice hushed and heavy with emotion. “Yeah,” she murmured, blinking to combat the tears that were filling her eyes. “My grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins…they all stayed. They’re still there, and we haven’t heard from them in almost a year.”
“So you’re doing this for them.”
“For them and all the other innocent people whose lives have been torn apart by Hitler,” she confessed, her voice wavering.
A tear trickled down the side of her cheek, and she felt a warm hand wipe it away gently. “I’m sure they wouldn’t want you to run yourself into the ground, sweetheart,” Dick murmured softly, the term of endearment slipping out before he could stop it. “When we finally do see action, you won’t be a hundred percent if you’re constantly running on fumes.”
She let out a shuddering breath, her emotions overwhelming her. (Y/n) sat up, shifting to bury her face into Dick’s shoulder, finding comfort in his embrace. His arms encircled her, pulling her into his side as he rubbed his hand soothingly along her back.
“Please take care of yourself. If not for them, do it for me. Please,” he whispered into her hair.
As the evening sun bathed them in a warm light, (y/n) pulled back from their embrace, her tear-filled eyes glistening with gratitude and adoration. She gazed into Dick’s calming, emerald-green eyes, vulnerability seeping from her. His eyes mirrored her intensity, and a soft, affectionate smile played on his lips. With her heart pounding in her chest, (y/n) brought her hand up to his cheek, her fingers tracing the contours of his skin with a gentle, trembling touch.
Their eyes met, and in that silent exchange, a powerful connection was forged. Slowly and with a sense of natural ease, she pulled him closer, guiding him toward her. Dick, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected tenderness of her actions, felt the soft, deliberate pressure of (y/n)’s lips against his. Their lips met, and their connection deepened as their mouths moved together, a tender and affectionate expression of their feelings. Their kiss was a gentle exchange of affection, an unspoken testament to the emotions that had quietly grown between them.
As (y/n) and Dick pulled back from their tender kiss, their actions spoke volumes in the quiet of that moment. Their lips slowly parted, the sensation of their kiss still lingering in the air like a sweet, unspoken promise. They looked into each other’s eyes, their gazes locked in a lingering connection that was filled with understanding. (Y/n) inched back slightly, her touch soft and tender as her fingers gently brushed over the freckles on Dick’s cheek as she withdrew from their intimate embrace.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice a gentle murmur, sniffling slightly as she rested her forehead against his. Dick’s heart raced, and he could feel her warm breath on his face.
“They’ll be proud of you. I’m sure of it.”
MAY 7, 1944: BERCHTESGADEN, AUSTRIA
(Y/n) reclined on a wooden, sun-soaked deck chair, gazing out at the breathtaking landscape of the Bavarian Alps that stretched before her. The mountains stood tall and majestic, their peaks kissing the cloudless sky. She felt a sense of awe at the natural wonder surrounding her.
Harry sat at the end of her chair, and Ron and Nix were sitting on the one beside them, all three drunk as a skunk. Their voices filled the air with drunken excitement, and their ramblings brought a wide smile to (y/n)’s face.
Nix groaned in good-humored frustration, raising his fingers in a futile attempt to count off the main leaders of the Nazi party. “Hitler, Hitler…no.”
Rolling his eyes, Ron chimed in, his voice louder as they spoke over each other, creating a chaotic atmosphere. “Hitler, Himmler, Goering-”
“And Goebbels,” Harry finished, his grin infectious as he completed the list.
(Y/n) couldn’t help but laugh heartily, tears gathering in her eyes as she watched her friends stumble through their banter. The joy of the moment, the beauty of the scenery, and the relief from no constant action and danger all combined to create a warmth in her heart that was impossible to contain.
“I’m so glad I get to see this,” she wheezed between fits of laughter, her hand clutching her stomach as another wave of cackles escaped her.
The sound of footsteps made her turn, and she saw Dick approaching with Lip. She smiled at him, her heart beating slightly faster when he returned a wink.
“Hey, Adolf! Love your Eagle’s Nest,” Harry yelled, standing up wobbly and grabbing Dick’s shoulders. “I hope you don’t mind. We made ourselves at home. Love what you’ve done with the place here.”
(Y/n) chortled again, earning an amused look from Dick, who found the whole situation hilarious. But he had more important news to share.
Welsh grabbed a bottle of champagne and held it out for the major. “Hey, have a drink. Come on. Just so we can say we saw you do it,” he implored, staring for a moment as Dick didn’t respond.
Smirking, (y/n) rose from her chair and gracefully pushed the bottle back toward Harry as she moved to stand between him and Dick. “You drink it, Welshy.”
Welsh retracted his hand, standing there for a moment like a pouting child, while Dick, who had patiently waited, pulled out a sheet of paper. He cleared his throat and started to speak, his gaze warm as he looked down at (y/n) beside him. “Listen up. From Corps, it just came in. Effective immediately, all troops standing fast on present positions.”
Nix rested his hands behind his head as he lay on the chair with a smirk. “Standing fast.”
Ron, his usually sharp eyes now glazed over from the alcohol, looked up and asked. “What does that mean?”
(Y/n) ran a hand down her face with a giggle. Her laughter was infectious, and the group chuckled, with Dick’s laughter being the loudest. His smile was the widest she’d seen in months, and the sight stirred something within her.
“Do you want to hear it?” he asked the group as he wrapped an arm around (y/n)’s shoulder.
Harry nodded, grunting in reply, and Dick repeated the sound, raising an eyebrow at the man. “Are you ready for it? Listen up, the German Army surrendered.”
The news sent a sudden hush through the group, and the jovial atmosphere vanished, replaced by a solemn and reverent feeling that settled inside each of them. (Y/n) looked up at Dick, her eyes widened in disbelief.
“Really?” she whispered, her voice filled with hope.
Dick nodded and squeezed her shoulder softly. “Yeah, sweetheart. They did.”
In that instant, she couldn’t contain her joy. She flung her arms around his shoulders, squealing happily, and he snaked his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly. The weight of the past years seemed to lift, replaced by a hope of peace in Europe for people like her family who were caught in the crossfire of war. As they pulled back from their hug, the sheer happiness of the moment made (y/n)’s eyes glisten with tears. Around them, the other officers were clapping each other on the back and expressing their own gratitude that victory in Europe had been achieved.
With a soft smile, Dick placed a hand on her lower back and led her to a farther part of the balcony, giving them privacy from prying eyes. He could see the curiosity in her eyes and as they found a quiet corner, he spoke in a hushed tone. “I got word today, (y/n). About your family.”
Her eyes widened in anticipation, and her heart raced. “My family? Where are they? She asked, her voice trembling with a mix of hope and fear.
Dick placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, offering her the support she needed to hear the news. “They’re alive, (y/n). They’re living in Salzburg.”
The emotion she’d swallowed down came flying back, and tears welled up in her eyes again as her voice trembled with relief. “Salzburg? Oh, thank God,” she croaked.
(Y/n) couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer, and the tears streamed down her face as she wrapped her arms around Dick, hugging him tightly once again. It was a cry of pure relief, a release of tension that had gripped her heart for so long.
Dick held her close, his own emotions stirred by the moment. He could feel her relief, his arms wrapped around her as he gently stroked her back. The news also meant that they were one step closer to going home. One step closer to spending the rest of their lives together.
In the midst of the moment, (y/n) looked up at Dick, a radiant smile breaking through her tears. Her soft voice was barely more than a whisper as she spoke. “I love you, Dick.”
Their eyes locked in a tender, unspoken understanding as Dick leaned down to cup her cheek, his thumb gently brushing away a tear. “I love you, too, (y/n).”
The mountains of Berchtesgaden stood as silent witnesses to what was about to transpire. It was the perfect setting for a moment they would cherish forever. As they stood there, Dick took (y/n)’s hand in his, his gaze unwavering as he looked deep into her eyes. With a smile, he began to speak…but it wasn’t English.
“Meine Liebe, du weißt, ich bin nicht der Beste im Umgang mit Worten, aber ich liebe dich mehr als das Leben selbst. Ohne dich hätte ich das nicht überstanden und ich möchte nie wieder ohne dich sein,” he began, his heart pounding in his ribcage.
My love, you know I'm not the best with words, but I love you more than I love life itself. I wouldn't have gotten through this without you, and I don’t want to be without you ever again.
(Y/n) looked at him, her eyes widening in surprise and joy. She blinked in disbelief, her heart skipping a beat.
“Willst du meine Frau werden?” Dick continued.
Will you marry me?
A gasp escaped (y/n)’s lips as tears continued to trickle down her cheeks. She couldn’t believe what was happening, and her heart swelled. Dick got down on one knee, his eyes filled with a softer determination than the one she saw in his eyes on the battlefield. He reached into his OD pocket and pulled out a small, elegant ring.
In a voice filled with emotion, he asked, “Möchtest du mein leben mit mir teilen?”
Will you share your life with me?
Tears streamed down (y/n)’s face as she nodded vigorously, unable to speak through her overwhelming joy. She held out her hand, and Dick slid the ring over her finger. It fit perfectly, just as they did in each other's lives.
With a smile that held all the love in the world, he whispered, “Ich liebe dich.”
I love you.
With the golden rays of the setting sun casting a warm, enchanting glow on the balcony, Dick stood up from one knee and pulled (y/n) into a gentle, affectionate embrace. The light from the setting sun illuminated their features, turning their silhouettes into a work of art against the breathtaking backdrop. Their kiss was tender and sweet, filled with the promise of a future together.
Their actions were delicate and filled with longing. Dick’s arms enveloped (y/n) as he kissed her, his fingers brushing softly against her cheek, and (y/n) responded with more fervor, deepening the kiss. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers clutching his uniform as if grounding herself in the reality of the moment. The hand on her cheek threaded into her hair and pulled her impossibly closer.
With huge smiles on their faces, (y/n) and Dick pulled back from their kiss. The moment was perfect. However, their intimate moment was suddenly interrupted by a chorus of whistles and cheers coming from the adjacent balcony. Ron, Harry, Lip, and Nix watched on as the couple got engaged. They exchanged glances and held hands as they made their way toward the cheering men.
Nix hugged Dick and slapped him on the back, his expression a mix of humor and satisfaction. “Now if I remember correctly, some wise guy called this the first time you two met…oh wait, that was me.”
Dick’s brows furrowed in confusion, and he turned to his fiance for clarification. “What?”
Rolling her eyes playfully, (y/n) leaned into his side, patting his chest lightly. “Back in Aldbourne, Lew just thought that, and I quote, ‘sparks would fly’ between the two of us.
“Well, I’m so glad they did,” Harry laughed, holding up a wad of cash in front of him. “I’m a rich man now.”
The major blinked at Harry, his amusement evident. “How am I not surprised you bet on us?”
“You think that’s all we bet on?” Ron slurred, sprawled out on a chair with his eyes closed. “We also bet on when-”
Thankfully, Lip stepped in to stop the Captain, who appeared to be thoroughly drunk. “Alright. Let’s get you to bed, sir.”
(Y/n) grinned, admiring Dick’s features above her. “Where did you learn all of that?” she asked. “Because I’ve never taught you anything that complex.”
“A man never tells his secrets,” he replied, kissing her temple lovingly.
“It was Liebgott, wasn’t it,” she chuckled, raising an eyebrow at him. “Cause only Joe knows that much German other than me.”
“Well,” Dick began, “There’s a lot more where that came from.”
“Oh really, Major Winters. Care to enlighten me?”
He sighed, “Nope. I’ve been practicing that for months. It’s all I’ve got.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’ve got the best teacher by your side for the rest of your life, huh?”
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#band of brothers#hbo war#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers imagine#band of brothers x reader#dick winters#band of brothers imagines#easy company#dick winters x reader#dick winters fluff#dick winters imagine#dick winters imagines#band of brothers easy company#easy company imagine#easy company x reader#bob#hbowar x reader#hbowar#hbo war x reader
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Summary: After (y/n) signs up for the WAC's Athena Program, she joins the war with Easy Company, unaware of how much her life will change over the next few years.
Enchanted
Out of the Woods
Haunted
Evermore
Breathe
Daylight
Paris
You Are In Love
Lover
State of Grace
Labyrinth
You’re On Your Own, Kid
Forever Winter
Soon You'll Get Better
Right Where You Left Me
Castles Crumbling
Innocent - on break until spring 2024!!
epiphany playlist
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Time Enough
Warnings: Angst? Cursing & I didn’t proof read
Word Count: 1,779k
Description: Time. There would always be enough time to tell each other how you felt. At least you had hoped. Time, it seemed would not wait for either one of you.
I blame me listening to Beginning of the End Movement IV by The Newton Brothers for the angst.
Time, you had realized, had become your real enemy. You never seemed to have enough of it. Every moment that passed you by seemed to go by in blur. Each smile, every laugh and tear, just flowed into each other. It was never enough - any of it. You wanted desperately to hold onto it, clutch it with your bare hands and never let go. To freeze all the moments that you had.
But you couldn’t. Time continues to flow, ebb and bend around you. Every moment felt like your last. And yet, even with that, you couldn’t find it within yourself to tell him. To tell him that he kept all the fear away, brought in the light. Joe Liebgott was your person. The one that through all of it, you could confide in - run to. He was the reason you wanted more time. To freeze it. To stay with until everything else faded into nothing.
You loved him. You loved him more than you thought you could love anyone. But you could never tell him. Not now. You needed to focus on surviving, on finding some way to hold on.
Maybe if you had more time…even then you weren’t sure. You closed your eyes and let time pass around you. The warmth leaving your body, and with it the pain.
If you only had more time…
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The sun shone brightly overhead. You closed your eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun as it kissed your skin. You were laying down in a field, basking in the heat. You enjoyed the rare moments in time where it was calm, almost serene. These moments were few and far between - the chatter of the men around you made you smile. Faintly, you could hear Bull Randleman poking fun at Frank Perconte. A chorus of laughter soon followed.
A smile tugged at your own lips, as the sound of bickering continued. The heat suddenly left you, it’s warmth replaced by a shadow.
Opening one eye, you looked up to see Joe Liebgott grinning down at you.
“Do you mind?” you asked, closing both your eyes once more, your smile never leaving your face.
“No, not at all,” he teased. Joe didn’t move one inch, instead his stance relaxing as he stood over you.
You let out a huff, sitting up. “Joe-”
“Alright, alright,” he laughed. Moving to sit next to you, he bumped your shoulder with his own. “What are ya doin’ out here anyways?”
“Well, I was enjoying the sun and some peace and quiet.” You turned to look at him. He feigned shock.
“Me? Ruin your peace and quiet? Never.”
You let out a laugh that only made to broaden his own. Joe Leibgott had wormed his way into your heart. Burrowing himself in there until he belonged to him and only him. It had taken him time, months, years of teasing, arguing, and talks. Talks like this, where everything else drifted away. It was just you and him. Nothing else mattered.
“Joe?”
“Mm?” He hummed, laying himself down on the grass beside you. He closed his eyes now, tucking an arm behind his head. He had a faint smile on his face, a gust of wind tousled his hair in a way that made you want to run your hands through it.
“I got something for you,” you watched as his face lit up. He squinted up at you, the sun creating a glowing silhouette around you. Carefully, you pulled out your gift, enjoying the way his eyes widened.
He sat up quickly, “No, shit,” he laughed gingerly, taking the chocolate candy bar into his hands. “How in the hell did you get this?” He paused, “No, wait, do I want to know?”
You punched him in the arm, “Idiot, Euegene owed me favor. I can just take it back, you know. I’m sure Bill would be a whole lot more grateful for it.”
You didn’t miss the way, Joe’s eyes darkened with annoyance. “You don’t have to be so dramatic,” he replied.
Rolling your eyes, you turned forward.
“Hey,” you turned back to look at him, a look on his face you couldn’t quite place. “Thank you.”
You smiled back, laying back down. Joe followed after you. The both of you remained quiet, enjoying the silence and each others company.
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You were freezing, you had never known a cold like this in your life. Bastogne was its own hell. You were only stopping by to help restock supplies for the medics. Your help was needed at the aid station.
Still, your presence did help to lighten the mood for most of the company. George Luz nearly jumped like a small child at the sight of you.
“Finally,” he had said, “something beautiful, I was tired of looking at all these ugly mugs.” His comment, of course, was met by a chorus of groans.
Your feet lead you eventually to Joe. He was huddled in his fox hole, grumbling to himself in annoyance. His eyes caught yours, the frustration leaving his expression, if only for a moment.
“The hell are ya doin’ here?” He grumbled.
“Restock,” you said simply. Shrugging your shoulders. You shifted your weight, Joe had been more short with you lately. You weren’t sure why, what you had done, but it was killing you.
“None of the other nurses could do it?”
You felt almost as if you had been slapped. You knew he was angry at you for some reason, but this?
He must have seen your face. “I just mean that it’s dangerous here, you shouldn’t be here.”
“Because my life matters more than any of the other nurses?” You bit back.
Joe had a look of shock on his face, his jaw tensing as if trying to find the right words to say. “You know damn well you-”
You opened your mouth but nothing came out. Instead a loud crash and explosion rang out around you. You hadn’t realized you had been blown away a good few feet until your body collided with a tree.
All the air in your lungs left you. You could hardly breathe, you weren’t sure if you could move. The only thing you could hear was ringing in your ears.
You tried to blink back all the dirt and soot from your eyes. The trees swaying gently above you, you thought only of Joe - the look on his face. Was he angry with you? You wanted to tell him that the only reason you had come was so you could see for yourself he was okay - that he was alive. Because you loved him, you were in love with him. You just needed the time to say it.
Now? Now you weren’t sure there was any time at all.
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Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
No.
No, this wasn’t happening. Not to you, God, not to you.
Joe scrambled his way out of the fox hole, ignoring everyone who screamed at him not to. It was you. It was fucking you.
His whole body went numb as he screamed your name. Shouting it over and over and his eyes scanned the horror around him. He was going to find you. He was going to find you and you were going to be just fine.
You were going to scold him like you always do, give him that teasing look that you reserved only for him. He was going to tell you why he had been ignoring you these last few weeks. Because he couldn’t hide anymore just how in love with you he was. That every time you looked at him, it was like you uncovered a new part of his soul. He was a different person when he was with you, a whole happy schmuck that wanted to spend every waking moment he had with you.
You and he were going to have all the time in the world.
When he finally saw your body sprawled across the snow like a ragdoll, his knees buckled underneath him. With shaky hands he reached forward to touch you, you were like ice.
“Hey, hey, look at me,” Joe whispered with a shaky voice. “Come on, Angel, look at me.” Trembling hands, pushed back the hair on your face. “Please, please look at me,” he choked out.
“Joe,” you gurgled out, coughing blood.
“Oh, fuck, okay, you’re gonna be fine,” he quickly assessed your body, you had a piece of metal in your side, and blood flowing freely from it. Cuts littered your body, but your limbs were intact. “You’re gonna be fine, you hear me?”
“Joe,” you coughed, “I-”
“Save it, please, you can tell me later.” His tear filled eyes searched yours. You didn’t look worried or panicked and Joe was sure what scared him more. “Medic!I need a fucking medic over here!”
“Joe, please,” you were straining, your breathing becoming more labored.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he cried out.
“‘M not.” You smiled, “I - I-”
“Medic!” He cried out once more.
“I-” you swallowed, “love -”
Joe kissed you, fuck the blood, fuck everything, he kissed you. He felt like a fool for not doing it sooner. He was so damn scared of losing you that he didn’t realize he could actually lose you.
“Joe, Joe you gotta move-”
Eugene Roe forcefully pushed him back. His hands quickly work over your body. He watched your eyes close as Roe pushed the morphine into you.
You were going to be fine. You both had more time. You both would have all the time in the world.
You had to.
You had to.
———————————————————————————
Joe walked along the pavement. The busy streets of San Francisco flowed around him. Time had kept moving around him, slowly and quickly all at once. He thought of easy, of clear blue water in Austria, but mostly he thought of you. He thought of your smile, your easy laughter, everything that made you, you.
He thought of that quiet day you shared. When you had the sun glowing around you like a halo. The sweet chocolate bar you had given him, of the peace he felt when he was with you.
Nothing had ever been the same since he had met you. Nothing would ever be the same after.
After…
“Joe?”
He turned watching you carry a bouquet of flowers towards him. You limped slightly, your breath a bit shallow when you caught up to him. But you were there with him.
“I got those,” he said simply, kissing you on the cheek.
After, there would never be an after you. There was only you and him- and time. As much time as you could steal.
#joe liebgott x you#joe liebgott x reader#joe liebgott imagine#band of brothers x reader#band of brothers imagines#band of brothers imagine
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practically begging for some george luz w/ enemies to lovers. everyone always writes amazing friends to lovers but there’s sm potential w e2l !!! love ur writing btw xx
Jokes on You (George Luz x Fem!Reader)
Requested by: anon
Summary: George Luz is a funny guy, there is absolutely no denying that. He likes making jokes, and he likes it even more when people laugh at them. So what happens when there comes a person who makes just as good jokes as George? Or maybe even better? Some enemies to lovers for y’all.
Taglist: @alienoresimagines @teenmagazines @meteora-fc @eugenesmorphine @band-of-brothers-cz @real-fans @not-john-watsons-blog @tealaquinn @ok-roemanov @mrseasycompany @punkgeekchic @wexhappyxfew @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @rayofshanshine @mavysnavy @easynix @georgeluzwarmhugs @easy-company-tradition @immrsronaldspeirs @snafus-peckuh @curraheewestandalone @warrior-healer @justamadgirlinabox @happyveday @order-of-river-phoenix @whoahersheybars @nixoninc
Warnings: like two swear words, angst in the form of Bastogne
A/N: I so suck at endings.
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Cracking jokes and making people laugh is George’s thing and his only, that’s how it’s always been. He is the funny guy in the group, that’s how he likes to define himself, the funny one. But to define is to limit and George has made the mistake of limiting himself to clinging to one particular personality trait, humour.
And then Y/N came along; about four months into the boot camp Y/N got reassigned from Dog Company to Easy Company for reasons no one knew, except for Lewis Nixon perhaps. George did not start hating her per say right from the moment he met her, but ever since she beat him to the joke when watching his favourite movie he’s strongly despised her. From then on, the feelings only got stronger; she’s always making the whole Company laugh, some of the jokes even on his account which George does not like one bit, hell she even managed to make Blithe chuckle that one day after D-Day.
Y/N had no idea what she triggered by her naturally jokester nature until she had to face a very pissed off George after she blabbed some joke about some actress and then a very pissed off George is the only kind of George she has had the privilege of meeting. The woman has pondered greatly about what she could have possibly done to anger the man so, but nothing came to mind and she soon gave up. George continued and stubbornly continues to be rude to her so she should only repay his “kindness”.
After Carentan, the word of Operation Market Garden is in the air and the Allies are particularly optimistic. Easy is in the pub, celebrating its successes in the war, while some reinforcements are trying to mingle. Y/N is watching it all from behind, the old breed not wanting to socialize with the newbies at all and sometimes the situations can get truly hilarious.
Somehow, in a few minutes, she finds herself behind a table with Luz, Malarkey, Muck and other three reinforcements who are just drinking up George’s story about his valour in Normandy. Her lips itch upwards from now and then, George’s drunkenness making it all the more amusing. Y/N can tell the new guys are impressed and somewhat terrified as well and one of them puts a pin on it when he asks Luz, “And what rank are you?”
The table sits in silence for a moment, for absolutely no one expected such question, not even the other reinforcements, then Malarkey and Muck burst out laughing, almost tipping over their beers.
Y/N chuckles, reaches over, and pats the guy’s arm. “Oh c’mon, it is Private!”
That absolutely finishes off Don and Skip, Skip eventually falls off his chair, the reinforcements are now laughing too; the mood slightly more friendly and at ease than before. Not for everyone though.
George is red to his ears, as he frowns. “The joke wasn’t that good. And it’s not even true.”
Donald is hiccupping now but manages to answer, “A- a bit c- corny, yes, but f-fucking b-brilliant.”
***
At this point the Company is divided into two parts only, one part bets on the two of them killing each other and the other parts bets on them fucking; which it will be is truly in the stars for George and Y/N are face to face again, both of them red in the cheeks from all the anger, both of them shouting some incoherent insults, and as Penkala has put it, “See? Honestly I can really see both happening. They will either kill each other or fuck, there is absolutely nothing in between.”
But then Market Garden happens, an underestimated operation, that leaves behind too many dead than it should and when all of Easy is boarded on trucks, retreating, the company is two people short.
Bull Randleman and Y/N Y/L/N.
The officers discuss what can be done, and despite all of the men wanting to go and save the two of the best soldiers in the company, they know they can’t. And exactly that is making George Luz lose his mind. He can’t really understand why he is so restless, anxious, and downright terrified throughout the whole night; he tosses and turns, he is not able to bring himself to close his eyes.
But then in the morning he sees Y/N on the jeep next to Bull and suddenly he feels like he could fly and go to Berlin and kill Hitler, just so he could see the carefree smile on her face.
It clicks in him just then, and Malarkey pats his shoulder. “So, you’ve finally figured it out, huh?”
George turns to him, confused. “What?”
Malarkey laughs, shaking his head, and says, “Don’t play dumb with me, you idiot, I saw it just now.”
As much as George would like to answer his friend, he truly has no idea what he is talking about, and when that dawns on Donald, he offers George a sympathetic smile.
“Okay, let me put your thoughts to words, ‘cause you’re such an oblivious idiot that you probably wouldn’t figure it out by the time this motherfucking war is over,” Malarkey continues, “you don’t hate her, do you, not really.”
It is not even a question, more of a statement, and George really wants to protest, more than anything, because it is ridiculous, right?
***
The plan to be home by Christmas isn’t really working out for the Allies but the soldiers of Easy Company have already forgotten about those false hopes, they aren’t the ones to be bothered with when you freeze your ass off in a foxhole in the middle of a forest where the trees blow up every now and then and the place becomes a tornado.
Y/N shares a foxhole with Muck and Penkala, the trio trying to lighten up their gloomy moods with laughter. But even Y/N is running out of jokes now, so when doc Roe runs up to them, asking for scissors, she’s more than happy to go look for them with him too, the need to stretch her stiff and frozen body overpowering her whole self.
She’s just a couple of meters away from her foxhole when another German artillery attack comes and the whole forest becomes a hurricane of explosions, splinters, and blood. The soldier throws herself to the ground, crawling her way, slowly, back to her foxhole, Muck and Penkala shouting something at her she can’t hear, encouraging her to hurry up.
Dirt is everywhere, she barely can see, she covers her ears and head with her hands as another hit comes; she continues right after the explosion, crawling, crawling, crawling.
Muck and Penkala are still shouting at her, she is getting closer; Y/N can hear another artillery attack coming but this time she doesn’t stop proceeding, she knows she has to get into the foxhole soon, so she keeps on pushing.
The explosion comes. Everything goes white for a moment. The pressure wave makes her stop moving, and she is forced to close her eyes and cover her head with her hands.
She opens her eyes. There is nothing.
Seconds ago, there were two people, now there is nothing, nothing left, not a single trace that there have ever human beings stood.
Y/N can’t bring herself to move, she stares blankly into the space before her, her limbs are stiff. But then some arms grab her body, she can hear someone shouting at her.
3 seconds. That’s all it takes her to get back. She holds on to George’s arms as they run together to another foxhole, jumping right in. He immediately brings her into his body, she wraps her arms around his torso instinctively, holding onto him so tight, her head resting on his chest. George shields her body from everything outside and when the bombing finally stops, they don’t let go of each other for another few moments.
It isn’t until a few years after the war and they are married to each other, when they finally talk about what happened that day in the forest of Bois Jacques, not a day sooner. Ever since then, their relationship has been changed, both very much aware of it, neither of them brave enough to bring it up just yet.
It is in Haguenau, where they finally share a conversation. George finds her on her own, behind some building, hiding behind some sacks, looking at the river. He throws a Hershey bar into her lap and when she looks up in confusion, he offers her a warm tired smile.
“What did I do to deserve the affection of the one and only George Luz?” she tries to crack up a joke and chuckles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. George knows Y/N is exhausted beyond words.
He sits down next to her, as he opens his mouth to say something, but he rethinks it in the last second and nothing comes out. They sit out there for a few minutes, sharing the silence and strangely enough, it feels nice. George finally does not feel the need to talk all the time, the need to prove himself funny or worthy of other people’s attention.
“Have you ever been to Rhode Island?” he suddenly blurts out, surprising himself and her at the choice of the question.
Y/N smiles, doesn’t ask why or what. “No, never.”
“Then come with me.”
This time she asks what.
“After the war I mean, come home after the war with me.”
“But- but, you-“ she stutters, her cheeks slightly red, “but you hate me.”
George chuckles at that and looks at her. She has bags under her eyes that are a bit bloodshot (she hasn’t slept much in the last few days), her hair is dirty from dirt and sweat, her face has several scratches and marks, his eyes finds the most visible one just below her left cheekbone (he recalls that day in Carentan when a piece of shrapnel hit her and the wound looked way worse then it actually was for she had blood all over her left side of face, freaking out silently has never been so hard – he hadn’t known at that time what will come). He has never seen anything to maddeningly and purely beautiful as her.
“I thought I did, a very long time ago,” he says, “but actually I never did. I don’t hate you. How could I?”
Y/N looks at him and through all the pain, horror, and grief, she feels peace. It surprises her.
And so she responds, “Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“Okay, I will come home with you. How could I not?”
#imagine#hbo war#fanfic#band of brothers#band of brothers imagines#george luz#band of brothers imagine#ronald speirs#eugene roe#lewis nixon#george luz x reader#george luz imagine#george luz oneshot
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Hidden affections - Joe Liebgott
Masterlist
Band of brothers masterlist
The tension between Joe Liebgott and Y/N during basic training was palpable, their constant bickering earning them a reputation as the pair who couldn't stand each other. Yet, hidden beneath the surface, there was a strange connection that bound them together.
One evening at the bar, the air was thick with the familiar scent of cigarette smoke and the low hum of conversations.
She found herself watching Him from across the room, despite the tension that existed between them. His animated conversations with friends drew her attention, inadvertently coaxing a smile from her.
As she observed, George Luz snuck up behind her, curiosity etched on his face. "Who are you smiling at?" he asked, a playful tone in his voice.
However, his smile quickly faded and his expression shifted from playful to concerned as he followed her gaze to Joe Liebgott.
"Really? " George scoffed, looking at her like a disappointed parent "Liebgott?, after the way he acts around you?"
"It's complicated Luz" she replied, taking another sip of her beer.
Luz raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Complicated? That's one way to describe it. I mean, he acts like he can't stand you half the time."
She sighed, her gaze lingering on Joe as he laughed at something Talbert had said. "Yeah, well, maybe it's his way of dealing with things. Doesn't mean there's not something else there."
George smirked, leaning against the bar. "You're telling me there's something more to Liebgott than meets the eye? Colour me intrigued."
Chuckling she shook her head. "You wouldn't understand, Luz. It's like we're constantly at odds, but when it comes down to it, he's got my back. And I've got his."
George gave her a skeptical look. "Got his back? More like got each other's throats."
"Trust me, Luz, i know there's a lot more to Joe Liebgott than what he shows. " she replied cryptically, swirling her beer in her glass.
George sighed, "Well, just be careful. Liebgott's a complicated guy, and complicated usually means trouble."
She nodded in acknowledgment, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "I can handle a little trouble."
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Liebgott sat at a nearby table, the conversation he was engrossed in had become irrelevant as his ear pricked up at the mention of Y/N's name from the table behind him , overhearing Roy Cobb, a fellow paratrooper, running his mouth about her to a group of new replacements.
"Y/n? Oh, you mean Easy Company's little sweetheart," Cobb remarked with a mocking tone, eliciting a few chuckles from the newcomers. "she's just a liability. She should've never shown her face in easy company! My bet is she's been playing the commander, putting on a show of competence that's going to get someone killed. Sobel should've gotten rid of her a long time ago."
Anger flared in Joe's eyes as he clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as Cobb continued to tarnish her name.
"And have you seen her? No wonder she hasn't found a man yet. Who would want to be with someone like her? It's not surprising she's still single; she's probably too busy ruining missions to care about settling down."
Unable to contain himself any longer, Joe jumped up from his table and approached Cobb's group with a scowl on his face.
"What the fuck did you just say about her?" Joe sneered at Cobb, who tried to laugh it off and reason with him. "Come on, Joe, you know what she's like – my bet is she's had half the company now-"
Before Cobb could finish his sentence, Joe's fist connected with his face, sending him sprawling to the floor. The commotion drew the attention of the entire bar, and the rest of Easy Company rushed to stop the impending fight.
She and Luz watched, exchanging puzzled glances. "What was that about?" She asked, concern furrowing her brow.
George shook his head. "I don't know, but Liebgott looks pissed."
As the men of Easy Company pulled Joe away from the scene, Cobb nursed his bleeding nose and shot a glare in her direction. She met his gaze with a cold intensity, her eyes daring him to say another word.
Joe, still seething, was restrained by his comrades. "You talk about her again, and I'll do more than just break your nose," he spat at Cobb, the words laced with a dangerous edge.
The bar returned to its uneasy quiet, the rumours quashed by the unexpected confrontation. Joe may have acted on impulse, but his protective instinct for her had been laid bare for everyone to see.
She watched as Joe stormed out of the bar in a huff, cursing under his breath. She placed her empty pint glass on the table in front of her and felt a sense of urgency to follow him. "Hey, where are you going?" George called out, walking back to the bar - no doubt to get another drink.
"Don't worry about it," she mumbled back, not wanting to explain as she made a beeline for the door Joe had just stormed out of. Once outside, the cold air hit her like a thousand tiny needles, causing her to shiver. Walking a few steps away from the door, she scanned the darkening area, the sun just starting to set, painting the sky with an orangey-red hue.
Her eyes fell upon Joe, leaning against one of the nearer barracks, smoking a cigarette. She took a deep breath and began walking towards him, the stones crunching under her shoes catching Joe's attention almost immediately , his jaw tightening in response.
"What are you doing out here?" Joe asked, stubbing out his cigarette. Ignoring Joe's question, She confronted him,
"What the hell was that back there?"
"Never you mind," Joe replied dismissively.
"Joseph Liebgott, I will mind. You punched a fellow paratrooper in the face!" Her tone carried a mix of disbelief and frustration, feeling as if she was scolding a schoolboy.
"Cobb said some shit that wasn't true, and I hit him – no big deal," Joe responded, trying to downplay the situation.
"What did he say, Joe?" She pressed, her voice rising a little.
"Damn it, Y/n, what is this, 21 questions?"
"Liebgott, tell me what he said!" She insisted, her frustration evident.
Joe sighed pushing off the barracks wall and walked over to her, the distance between them closing until they were almost nose to nose , his breath fanning her face, the smell of the recent cigarette lingering in the air.
Joe's gaze softened, and he let out a heavy sigh. "Look, I might not always show it, but I don't like hearing lies about people I... care about," he admitted gruffly, avoiding direct eye contact.
Her expression softened in return. "Care about? Liebgott, you're not known for being the sentimental type. Why would you care about what Cobb says about me?"
Joe hesitated for a moment, his jaw clenching. "I hate to admit it, but... I don't like the idea of anyone talking crap about you. Especially when it's a load of bullshit."
Her eyes widened, surprised by his admission. "Joe Liebgott, did you just say something vaguely nice about me?"
He scoffed, trying to deflect. "Don't get used to it. I just... I don't know, I just don't like people thinking less of you because of some idiot's lies."
A small smile played on her lips. "Well, I appreciate that, Joe. It's strange, you know? Despite all the bickering, I never thought you'd... care."
Joe mumbled something incoherent, avoiding her gaze. The tension between them lingered, the unspoken words hanging in the cold air. , Feeling a mix of emotions, She took a step closer to Joe.
"I don't hate you, Y/n. I might not show it, but I..." Joe's gruff words trailed off, and before he could finish, She closed the remaining distance between them, pressing her lips against his. It was a moment of unexpected intimacy, fuelled by the unspoken emotions they both struggled to express.
Breaking the kiss, Joe sighed, his forehead resting against hers. "I hate to admit it, but I... I like you, a lot."
She looked at him, a mix of surprise and a small smile playing on her lips. "Well, that's something," she said, a teasing glint in her eyes.
Joe rolled his eyes but couldn't hide a smirk. "Yeah, yeah, don't get used to it."
As they stood there, the realisation of the unexpected turn of events settled in. The tension that once hung between them had transformed into something different – something neither of them had anticipated.
#hbo war#band of brothers imagines#joe liebgott#joseph liebgott#band of brothers x reader#band of brothers oc#band of brothers
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pda headcannons: speirs + lipton
speirs
→ obviously he has his public image to maintain but that doesn’t mean he loves you any less
→ most likely only engages in pda if he’s jealous or really worried
→ 9/10 times it’s because he hears some of the guys trying to guess why you’re with him, due to all of the infamous stories
→ you’ll find his hand on the small of your back whenever he’s near you, sometimes with a little squeeze to your hip as he passes by
→ kisses in front of anyone are extremely rare
→ those are reserved for the very scarce moments that you two get alone
→ he’s a bit more comfortable with lip, nix, winters and harry, so they’re the ones subjected to the real speirs
→ dear lord does he love a good make out
→ he will sit you down and just go for it
→ they’re rare but you can just feel the pent up passion he’s dying to show you
lipton
→ if anyone in easy is trying to forget how much they miss their families, looking at the two of you will send them straight back to square one
→ always holding your hand or sneaking you little kisses
→ loves playing with your hair
→ cuddles up to you and let’s you trace the scar on his face (please kiss it, it makes him flustered)
→ ignores all the teasing from the men, and usually joins in if he notices you getting embarrassed
→ is always eager to give you the biggest kiss so the guys will just get jealous and stop their constant “ooh”-ing
→ will get a bit snarky if anyone intrudes on/interrupts his quiet time with you
→ so luz does it on purpose
→ lives vicariously through pda because it lets him imagine your life together outside of the war (his favourite pastime)
#band of brothers#band of brothers x reader#band of brothers imagines#band of brothers headcanons#pda headcannons#ronald speirs#ronald speirs x reader#carwood lipton#carwood lipton x reader
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Just Me and You, Shifty Powers
just a little imagine I crossposted on my Wattpad (boneflu) and wanted to post here!
no warnings just pure fluff
Austria had been some sort of dream—the daily warm meal and hot showers seemed to be too good to be true. Yet, here you were, hands gripping the splintered wood of the old dock, swinging your legs to just barely graze the surface of the water below. The sky had turned pink and orange as the sun had made her way down, bringing forth the moon rising from behind the mountains. Your shoes and socks were somewhere further up the dock, your mind too focused on the coolness bringing small goosebumps up your bare legs, trousers rolled to your calves.
"This is where you've been hidin' all night?" a soft voice asked, footsteps accompanying Shifty's voice as he made his way down the dock. You looked up, finding Darrell haloed by the wind-blewn trees and waking stars. You gave a lopsided grin and nodded, offering your hand to the sharpshooter. For a man who always wielded a rifle, the pads of his fingers were smooth, and soft. He carefully plopped down next to you, your thighs pressed together. Soon enough he was tossing his shoes and socks behind him just as you had, propping his legs up to roll his pants to match yours. His feet met the water and he let out a content sigh. "Found yourself a pretty spot, huh?" The Virginia asked.
You nodded. "Sure did, Shift. All the boys are being too loud." you stated, looking to what he had gripped in his hand. A bottle of champagne, no doubt some lavish brand some Kraut had been waiting to pop when they won the war—but tonight, it was their victory. "Whatcha got there, Shift?" Darrell looked down to his hand and grinned, shrugging before offering it up to you. The label was a different language, you suspected French. "Where did you manage to find this?"
You hummed, thumb pressing against the cork until it popped loudly, causing both of you to jump before turning to one another with giddy grins. You took a long swing before wiping your mouth, "here's to our alcoholic intelligence officer—and his ability to choose the good stuff."
Shifty takes the bottle from you by its neck, tipping it into his own mouth. "Here's to him," he agreed, grimacing at the taste. Shifty's face twisted, causing you to let out a laugh, while Shifty grinned proudly. You nursed the bottle once more and drank from it once more before laying on the dock, legs hanging over. Darrell followed your movements, readjusting to get his shoulder flush against yours. He unashamedly lopped his head to the side to stare at you, your eyes fluttering shut, glowing from the sun. The hard war was evident in your tired eyes and silver scars, but Shifty thought you had never looked to gorgeous.
"You're starin', Powers." your comment is accompanied with an amused glance at him, head falling to meet his gaze. He only hums in response, smiling with his rosy, sun-loved cheeks. "Do I have something on my face?"
Shifty is shaking his head slowly. "No," he states shortly, grinning that smile that had gone into hiding since stepping into the Ardennes—the endless months in a permanent winter had hardened even the softest of soldiers, Shifty Powers included. Every now and again, you got him to give that little smile, hidden behind a scarf, only for you to see. But, here on this dock, it was on full display. "It's just you and me, so I get to stare all I want."
You're cocking your head to the side and pushing yourself up to stand, brows furrowed. "Is that so?" you ask, looking down at him. Shifty is following your movements as he gives a confident nod. "And why is that?"
He smiles again. "No distractions. No questions. No possible gunfire. Just me and you." You're inching closer with each of his words, his arms snaking around your waist and pulling you closer. "Now I can tell you how pretty I think you are." He's giddy as he says this, looking like a little kid on Christmas. You can't help but blush pink, shaking your head.
"Was I not pretty enough in Bastogne?" you tease. Shifty is rolling his eyes playfully, shaking his head and tutting.
He's pushing hair behind your ear. "You're always pretty. But now I don't got no competition—no one around to try and take you from this moment. Just you and me?"
You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down closer and closer. "So," you trail off. "What are you gonna do now that it's just you and me?"
Shifty grins. "Well, I'd like to kiss you."
You laugh. "Kiss me, Darrell."
#band of brothers imagines#band of brothers x reader#darrell powers#shifty powers#shifty powers x reader
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A War Miniseries of Their Own
Help set a timeless example that serving with pride is also a woman's prerogative in every branch of the military. Sign the petition link attached to support A War Miniseries of Their Own!
Just signatures! Not asking for any money!
This is my own personal petition I’m pushing for. I’m a veteran who is looking to do the HBO War series justice by retelling the story of the military women in America’s history. Who better to play the part than a veteran who’s already been through the training? Please support your fellow Tumblr girl and sign 💚🪖🫡
(Just imagine the fanfics you could write if this takes off!) 😉
#women#military history#military women#hbowar#hbo war#air force#wasp#marines#army#navy#us marines#us air force#us army#us navy#support#veterans#servicewomen#reservists#national guard#band of sisters#bandofbrothers#the pacific#generation kill#masters of the air#mota#a war miniseries of their own#band of brothers imagines#hbo war icons#hbo war edit#a league of their own
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We'll Meet Again
[One-shot]
Eugene Roe x Nurse!Female Reader
Nine hours is all it takes for Eugene Roe to realize that his hesitance to share his feelings for you was completely misguided.
Warnings: Language, Weapons, Canon Typical Violence, Smoking, Treatment of Wounds, Medical Procedures, Hospital Settings, Pining, Questionably Written Cajun Accent, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY
Author’s Note: The title of this fic is based off the song We'll Meet Again by Vera Lynn (I recommend the version where she is accompanied by Sailors, Soldiers & Airmen of His Majesty's Forces). This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.
Word Count: 7578
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“Roe it’s not mine, I’m alright. Roe.” Eugene was vaguely aware of your voice as he pulled at your blood drenched field jacket, fingers fumbling slightly as he fought with the buttons before he was able to delve beneath, beginning to tug at your sweater and wool shirt, desperate to find where you were hit. “I’m fine, please…Eugene!” You grabbed his wrists forcefully, your blood-slicked fingers sliding against his skin, but it was enough to finally pull his attention to your face. “It’s not my blood, I’m alright.” You repeated gently as his eyes met yours and he exhaled at last.
He frowned anew as he lifted a hand to wipe at the splatter of arterial spray across your cheek, succeeding only in smudging the scarlet across your beautiful skin, marring it further. You sighed and gestured with your head to the SS officer laying on the table behind him, his now-unseeing eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling, the wound at his neck obviously the source of all the blood you wore.
You tugged at his left wrist, which you still held within your grasp, and he looked back to you quickly, following as you led him over to a bank of sinks at the back of the room. As you released him, he watched you grimace slightly at the sensation of the blood growing slightly tacky between your skin and his. You took both his hands in yours and gently began to wash them.
Eugene’s heart throbbed tenderly as he watched the warm water sluice pink before your fingers thoroughly coated his skin with soap then rinsed it clean. Looking up to you with a soft smile, he was reminded of the state of your face and quickly swiped it clean with his wet thumb, lips stretching hopelessly wider at your warm grin.
“Nine hou’s.” He sighed, jaw clenching as his chest constricted painfully, the terror and anguish he’d been desperately trying to hold at bay all day flooding back to him.
“What?” You asked, confusion painting your face and he swallowed roughly, having to fight to focus while standing in your presence after so many months apart.
“Ya were missin’ – a hostage – fo’ nine hou’s.” He pressed his lips together, struggling to hold back the depth and breadth of his feelings on the matter.
He watched you swallow and put on that brave smile you wore for the sake of soothing your patients. “It was just like any other nine hours, except there were German patients and machine guns.”
“Please don’ give me tha’ smile.” He muttered sadly. “Are ya really alrigh’?” He pressed, eyeing you meaningfully.
Your brow twitched, mouth opening, looking about answer his question when the door to the room opened and you stepped back to grab a towel, handing it to him. “I’m just fine, Roe, thank you for asking. The rest of the SS patients are through that door there.” You gestured, nodding to the latest arrival, Webster, who quickly went through to secure the next room with Liebgott hot on his heels.
Roe watched as you assumed your professional mantle, leading him into the room where seven SS men, prisoners now, were being looked after by the rest of the nurses that had been in your hospital convoy when the 6th SS Mountain Division had decided to take you all hostage to provide them with medical care in this abandoned nursing home near Juchen. The women immediately flocked to you for direction and Eugene realized that you now wore a silver 1st Lieutenant’s insignia on your collar, promoted since he’d first met you that night in February of last year in Swindon.
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“These heels are killing me…” You muttered as you finally escaped the dancefloor to sit at the table next to Eugene’s, wedging yourself into the corner defensively.
He’d been watching you all night. Watching as trooper after trooper of the 506th from Able right through Item asked you to dance, barely giving you a moment to sit despite how tired you looked, behind that beautiful smile of yours, and how time and again you accepted, too polite to refuse.
“I’m surprised you didn’t wear your combat boots.” One of your tablemates teased.
A mischievous grin crossed your features and Eugene ducked his head as he found his lips twitching automatically in response to it. “Well, I would have except every time I upend the things, I still find sand from North Africa.”
A chorus of laughter flitted around the table and Eugene was convinced that yours was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard, finding himself thoroughly annoyed when it was extinguished by a couple of men sidling over to pull a few of your fellow nurses onto the dancefloor again.
“What was it like…over there…” A timid voice piped up as the band began to play that Vera Lynn song the Brits were crazy about and Eugene risked a glance at your face as you addressed a young woman, she could not be much older than twenty, only the two of you remaining at the table.
“Well, Barbara,” You paused thoughtfully, eyes focusing on some distant memory, the hints of fatigue he’d seen lurking beneath your smile coming to the fore for a brief moment before you turned to your colleague with a reassuring warmth. “It’s exactly like they say it’ll be.” You nodded firmly.
The girl’s shoulders relaxed as she smiled in relief, nodding in renewed confidence as you each took a sip of your drink. Eugene swallowed, wishing he could hear your real thoughts on North Africa, not just the canned propaganda reels put together to show before the pictures, but the firsthand account of a medical professional. There was only so much training could prepare them for, and they all knew as soon as the weather was right, they were headed for France.
Despite the longing he felt to do so, Eugene did not ask you to dance that night. He drank a few beers and smoked more than a few cigarettes as you forced yourself onto the dancefloor three additional times before you and the youngest of your companions decided to call it a night. Eugene felt that was a sensible idea – the number of buses back to Aldbourne was growing increasingly limited by the hour.
As dictated by the blackout, clumps of people were walking on either side of the road with their flashlights pointed downward, barely lighting their way as vehicles with their headlights reduced to mere slits wended their way through the crowd of inebriated celebrants. Eugene could not help but feel like it was a recipe for disaster, but your laughter, like the peal of bells, pulled his attention from across the darkened street.
“It’s snowing!” You declared with a wonder-filled gasp, and he blinked up at the sky to feel the kiss of melting snowflakes on his cheeks, his breath curling and hanging in the notably colder air.
The peace of the moment was shattered as an unruly group of men from Fox company bolted across the road, trying to reach the same bus stop he was heading for, a drunken straggler not seeing the delivery van and unfortunately the driver not seeing him either – until it was too late. There was a squealing of tires, a ‘crash’ as the load within the van was displaced, and a sickening ‘crunch’ followed by a wail of pain. Eugene lunged into the street, surprised to find you already kneeling beside the victim as you looked him over.
“What’s your name, trooper?” You were smiling warmly, your colleague hovering behind you nervously as the driver had begun pacing anxiously.
“Robert Boye, Ma’am.” He replied through clenched teeth.
Unlike the calm look on your face, your hands were a flurry of movement, honing in on the compound fracture on the man’s leg, lifting your fingers into the slim beams of light to reveal blood from where the bone had broken through his skin. Eugene was already undoing his belt when you turned to him, and you graced him with a brilliant smile that had his adrenaline-fueled heart skipping a few beats.
“I’m a medic, Ma’am. Tourniquet?”
“On his thigh, please, trooper.” You nodded, shrugging out of your overcoat to drape over Boye. “We’re going to get you to a hospital, alright Robert. Just hold on.” Standing quickly, you walked over to the delivery driver though Eugene wasn’t able to hear your conversation as he finished checking over the man in the road, confirming there were no other apparent injuries.
“You’e from Fox company, righ’?”
“Yeah, that’s right…Easy?” He replied, shaking from the cold or shock – or both, most likely.
Eugene nodded in reply, lifting his eyes as the delivery driver raised his voice at you, the sound of crates and empty milk jugs hitting the sidewalk filling the night air.
“Ya crazy Yankee cunt, what in god’s name d’ya think yer doin’?!”
By then quite a crowd had gathered in the road, and the slur hurled your way had more than just Eugene’s hackles up. Undeterred, you stepped forward, looking the rude and careless man directly in the eye. “You’ve struck an innocent pedestrian and now you’re going to make it right, sir. Your cargo will be right where you left it.”
He returned the look coldly but seemed increasingly aware of the looming threat in the darkness about you, eventually huffing in agreement. You provided directions to a hospital Eugene recognized as the nearest American hospital, surely that was where you were stationed, before sending several men to help him load Boye into the back.
“Medic, please come with me?” You looked to him as you climbed into the van and Eugene nodded quickly, jumping into the back with you as you looked to the wide-eyed young woman standing at the curb, watching you in awe.
“Barbara, go back inside and find Fran. Get her to walk you home.”
“Y..yes Ma’am!” She nodded quickly before hurrying back toward the dance hall as the back doors of the van were closed, leaving the three of you in darkness as the van lurched into motion.
“Medic…” You huffed and introduced yourself properly before asking him his name.
“Eugene Roe, Ma’am.” He replied quickly, turning on his flashlight. He was rewarded once again with one of your heart-stopping smiles.
“Wonderful, you have a flashlight. Thank you. How’re you holding up Robert?” You turned your attention back to the patient, checking his pulse at his wrist, pressing a hand to his forehead – most likely to assess for temperature and perspiration.
“Hurts an awful lot, Ma’am.” He grunted as the van hit a rut and you nodded sympathetically, kneeling on the floor beside him in your dress uniform, balancing easily as the van wove its way through the crowd outside the dancehall with more care this time.
“Thank you very much for being so brave for me. Where are you from?”
“Yakima, Washington.”
“Tell me, Robert. If I were to visit Yakima, Washington what is the food I absolutely must try?” You asked, bracing yourself against the roof as the driver took a wide turn.
“My momma’s cherry pie, without a doubt. My father grows bing cherries. Best in the state. And then my momma makes the best pie you will ever eat in your life.” Robert replied with relaxed smile, conversation taking his mind off the pain in his leg.
“Cherry pie – that sounds positively heavenly. So, you grew up on a cherry farm?” Your practiced smile and encouragement prompted the injured man to ramble on about his childhood playing amongst the cherry blossoms, gorging himself on ripe fruit, and skiing in the mountains whilst you the pair of you subtly kept an eye on his wound and vitals. Ever vigilant for a sudden change in demeanour that might signify a head injury or internal bleeding – your patient management was effortless, and Eugene could only feel his affection for you growing.
He was admittedly a little disappointed when the van came to a stop, the flustered driver opening the doors as a duty nurse came outside and gasped to find the three of you in the back of the unassuming vehicle.
“I’ll be right back with a stretcher!” She called out before dashing inside, returning promptly with two orderlies to help load the injured Boye so he might be carted inside.
The pair of you rushed behind into the temporary hospital in a building that looked like it had begun its life as a warehouse of some kind. The shift Doctor appeared from down the hall, and you quickly provided all pertinent information related to treatment.
“Well, you two had best inform the MPs as well, before that driver disappears on us.”
“Yes, sir.” You replied quickly, shooting Eugene an apologetic look before leading him to the MP office at the front of the hospital to make your report, pulling your garrison cap from your head, reminding him to do the same.
You’d barely started your tale when the MP told you both to ‘take a seat’ and dashed out of the office to try and stop the driver and you looked to him with even more pronounced regret. “I’m so sorry, Roe, I’m sure you were just trying to get back to your billet.”
Your use of his last name undoubtedly came from place of professional courtesy, however a part of him ached with the longing to hear how your mouth might form his first name.
“Not at all, Ma’am.” He gestured for you to take one of the empty chairs, only sitting once you had sunk into it with a soft sigh.
“Thank you very much for your help. I was feeling quite adrift with no supplies but then the universe sent me you.” You smiled warmly and he swallowed thickly.
“Ya did all tha work, Ma’am, I was jus’ there.”
Shaking your head stubbornly, he frowned a little as he watched a small shiver roll through you, belatedly realizing your coat had long since vanished with Boye. He started to pull at the jacket of his dress uniform, and you lay a hand on his arm.
“I’m alright, just tired. Based on your accent, I’d say you need your jacket more than me.” You smiled teasingly and he huffed a laugh, looking down at his shoes briefly as he straightened his uniform before lifting his eyes to meet yours quickly.
“It was impressive, Ma’am, how ya stood up ta tha’ man.”
You looked to him earnestly then, not sugar-coating your expression, or your answer, as you had for Barbara. “If we don’t stand up for our patients, Roe, no one will.” You spoke with breathtaking sincerity and all he could muster in response was a firm nod.
The door banged open as the MP hauled the very man in question into the office, his expression going livid as he once again came face to face with you.
“Goddamn Yankee cunt.” He spat at you, making Eugene surge to his feet to stand in front of you protectively, the scent of liquor potent on the man’s breath as he brushed by his rigid frame.
“I’ll be right back to take your statements, one moment.” The MP muttered, putting the uncooperative driver in a back room.
“Could this night get any longer…” You whispered and pinched the bridge of your nose, making Eugene turn back to you.
“How long ya been in England?” He asked, trying your own trick of distraction on you as he resumed his seat.
“Hmm? Oh, landed two weeks ago, I guess. Thought a break from the heat would be nice, hasn’t been quite as quaint as I was led to believe.” You laughed softly and shook your head. “You?”
“Las’ Septembah.”
“Well, I bet you know all the best spots by now then, hmm?” You smirked and he shook his head with rueful smile but did not have the chance to elaborate on his lack of free time as the MP returned to finally take your full statements.
It was nearly two in the morning once all the paperwork was done, the driver of the van turned over to the local police while the MP summoned a subordinate to return the pair of you to your billets.
“See you in a few hours.” The nurse who’d first greeted the pair of you poked her head out of the doorway to the treatment room.
You laughed without much energy. “For sure, Betty. Thanks for your help.”
“You work weekends?” Roe asked quietly, offering a hand to help you into the back of the jeep and you nodded as he settled next to you.
“My days off are Monday, Tuesday.” He must have frowned visibly as you shrugged with a weary smile. “It’s alright, I was the last to arrive here and someone needs to do it.”
As you hugged your arms around yourself tightly in the open back of the vehicle, overcoat still nowhere to be seen, he shifted to try and block the wind with his body. As you shuffled closer, huddling against him slightly, he swallowed thickly, his heart hammering against his ribs.
“You’re going to do great out there, Eugene Roe.” You smiled warmly, the vehicle pulling up outside a nearby shop with an apartment on the second floor.
“Thank ya, Ma’am.” He murmured quietly, taking a shaky breath as you climbed out of the jeep, pausing to wave at him from the curb.
He ought to ask to see you again, to write to you, something, but a part of him was reluctant to start anything he might not be able to see through with his future so very uncertain. He lifted his hand in return as the MP pulled out to drive him back to Aldbourne, regret immediately settling into his gut, leaving a sour aftertaste in his mouth.
Eugene was surprised when his belt arrived at his billet the following Thursday along with a note from you, once again thanking him for his assistance with Robert Boye’s care. You also assured him the patient was doing well and would be ‘fighting fit’ within a few months. He was impressed to see not a trace of blood on the woven fabric, indicating that you had obviously taken the time to clean it for him. Unable to stop the fond smile from unfurling on his features, he quickly hid the note in the pocket of his ODs as he heard Spina’s footsteps on the stairs.
“You coming to London this weekend, Gene?” He asked, sitting heavily on his bed in the corner and Eugene found himself shaking his head in return.
“Too much to do.” He replied vaguely, recalling one of the posters from the hospital hallway calling for blood donations.
“You’re missing out.” Spina teased in a sing-song voice, laying back on his bed once he’d taken off his boots.
The smile you greeted him with Saturday morning when he arrived to donate blood thoroughly convinced him otherwise.
“That’s very generous of you Roe, follow me, I’ll get you set up.” You turned to lead him past a few of the occupied beds and he nodded warmly to Boye as he looked up from a letter he was reading. “If you could take off your jacket and roll up your sleeve please, I’ll be right back with the supplies.” You said as you gestured to a cot, unfolding a privacy screen before turning to fetch the necessities.
Eugene complied, swallowing thickly as he watched the way your hospital dress swished around your hips as you walked away, quite frankly preferring this outfit to your dress uniform. Returning with a collection bottle, needle, and some tubing, you lifted his arm to search for a vein. He swallowed thickly at the goosebumps that rippled across his skin, able to smell the scent of soap lingering on you, the proximity nearly killing him.
“I never did ask, Roe, where are you from?” You glanced at him with your professional smile, fingers settling over their target in the inside of his elbow.
“Loosiana, Ma’am.” He murmured softly, watching you insert the needle so smoothly he barely felt more than a pinch before his blood began to fill the bottle in your hands.
“Louisiana.” You repeated warmly, eyes flicking between the bottle and his face, listening while monitoring the volume you were collecting. “Famous for Mardi Gras, yes?”
He nodded quickly. “Tha’s righ’, yes.”
“A lot warmer than England, hmm?” You chuckled and shook your head.
“Did ya get you’ jacket back?” He tilted his head. “Thank ya fo’ returnin’ ma belt.”
“I did, yes. And again, it was the least I could do.” Your eyes crinkled at the corners as you smiled this time, his heart swelling as he was becoming more skilled at discerning your real versus polite expressions. You pressed a piece of gauze over the needle before pulling it from his arm, the bottle now filled with the crimson fluid from his veins. “Could you apply pressure to that for me please?”
He nodded, fingertips brushing against yours as he took over, a jolt of electricity sizzling through him. Your eyes met his briefly before you turned back to the task at hand, and he could not help but wonder if you had felt it too. As you lay your fingers over his to lift the gauze and take a peek at the puncture in his skin, Eugene bit the inside of his cheek trying to maintain his composure. Replacing it with an adhesive bandage, you handed him a cookie to eat as you jotted down his information on the label on the bottle.
“Thank you aga–” Your gratitude was cut short by a loud crash over by the nurses’ station that had Eugene quickly on his feet though he noticed you barely reacted. “Sorry about that.” You sighed and urged him to sit back down with the gentle pressure of your palm on his shoulder. “I keep trying to fix that darn shelf, but the screws won’t stay in the wall.”
“Sorry!” Called a timid voice Eugene recognized as Barbara from last Friday’s dance and he looked up to you.
“I’d be happy ta take a look at it fo’ ya.”
You eyed him a moment, clearly weighing your desire to impose on him further. “Eat your cookie and then we’ll talk.” You ultimately said and he nearly inhaled the thing.
“I like fixin’ things.” He murmured once he’d swallowed, rolling down his sleeve and following you over to inspect the carnage Barbara had unleashed.
You helped her stack the last of the clipboards and manuals that were scattered across the floor onto the edge of the desk as Eugene looked over the shelf before eyeing the screws and finally the holes in the wall.
“You’ screws are stripped. Needs some new ones an’ maybe a few anchors.” He added as he eyed the weight of what you intended to store up there.
You worried your lip between your teeth for a moment before grabbing a key from the desk. “Maintenance room is this way, shall we see if they have what we need?”
He followed you down the hall and around the corner to a room that was no more than a glorified cupboard. You pulled the cord on the lightbulb dangling from the ceiling and he began rooting around, collecting tools in an empty toolbox before nodding to you to signal that he’d secured everything necessary.
“Don’t carry that with the arm I just took blood from please.” You reminded gently and he nodded again, walking back with you. “How can I help?” You tilted your head, nurse’s cap barely hanging on by the pins in your hair, presenting quite possibly the most adorable sight Eugene had ever seen.
“Could you an’ Miss Barbara hold tha shelf up fo’ me, please? Show me where ya’d like it?” He set the toolbox on the ground, grabbing the pencil he’d prepared as the pair of you positioned the shelf on the wall. He made a series of marks beneath it where he would drill new holes and marked the end placements. “Thank ya both, kindly.” He nodded and you set it down with a smile.
The sound of the door opening signalled the arrival of the doctor to do his midday rounds and you glanced at him, looking ready to apologize but he shook his head. “Don’ worry ‘bout me, you’ workin’. I’ll get this fixed an’ get outta you’ hair.”
“Thank you, Roe.” You nodded warmly before grabbing the clipboards from the desk and hurrying over with Barbara in tow.
Eugene did a thorough job of re-installing that shelf for you – putting new holes in the studs with the hand drill before tapping in a set of anchors to ensure it would never let you down again. It may have taken him a little longer than necessary due to the numerous glances he stole at you over his shoulder, but when his eyes met yours around the fifth glance, he turned back to his work quickly, cheeks burning, and did not risk another.
Once he was satisfied in the shelf’s structural stability, he began to place the manuals back onto it, hazarding a guess that you would want them in alphabetical order, glancing at you as you stashed the clipboards – now neatly back in their rack – beside them, rounds clearly complete.
“This looks amazing, Roe, I am once again in your debt.”
“It should hold alrigh’, even if ya get mo’e manuals.” He nodded humbly. “It was ma pleasu’e.”
“Well, I assure you we are extremely grateful.” You nodded firmly and he was unable to stop the slight smile that snuck onto his lips, watching as your own grew brightly in return. “Now I’m sure there’s somewhere you’d much rather spend your days off than our boring little hospital.”
He swallowed tightly, quite convinced that was utterly untrue but was unable to verbally disagree. “I’ll leave ya to it then, Ma’am.” He nodded, putting the tools away before shrugging into his uniform jacket once more and heading out into the drizzly afternoon.
It became a habit, spending his Saturdays at your hospital, fixing up little things that were broken but not priorities for the regular handyman. Donating blood every few weeks when you’d let him. It was, of course, all a thinly veiled excuse to see you – not that he would ever reveal that to you. As winter melted into spring, training and preparation for what was to come only intensified, and the potential outcomes remained at the forefront of his mind. If he were to speak honestly, Eugene, like many men, did not expect to survive the assault on France. Hitler had been there too long, had had too much time to get dug in snug as a tick. What they were planning to attempt was nearly impossible – just like his chances of survival.
You deserved better than that. Better than to open your heart to a man like him, if you even cared to, only to have him wiped from the earth by some piece of artillery or some such horrific ending. Eugene had a sense you’d seen enough horror first-hand in North Africa and he wanted no part in inflicting more upon you. So, he remained cordial, friendly, holding his breath and biting his tongue when your hands would brush, when you’d gently fix his tie after he’d gotten it crooked under the sink and when you’d swipe the sawdust from his shoulders before he put his uniform jacket back on.
The domesticity of your care and concern for him made his heart ache something fierce but he bore it stoically, silently, repeatedly like some kind of martyr. A smarter man might have stayed away but Eugene needed those few hours with you every week as badly as he needed the comforting nicotine of his Lucky Strikes. The news that they were shipping out to Upottery in late May was thus a rude reminder that his time, his life, was no longer his own.
The entire time he was packing, Eugene debated with himself before ultimately deciding to jot off a quick note of apology explaining his absence for that coming weekend and wishing you well until ‘next time.’ What a terrible expression it was. Forcing himself to take it to the post office, he sent it to the hospital where you worked before boarding the transit truck to move out. The days passed in almost a blur, the frenetic pace of preparation and practice jumps all leading up to the inevitable.
Eugene was dressed in full gear, having just secured his leg bag when he heard Vest call out his name, waving a letter addressed to him. Settling back down on the tarmac to open it, his brows furrowed in confusion at the unfamiliar handwriting.
Eugene was so taken aback he nearly missed Meehan’s announcement that the jump was off due to bad weather that night, spending several hours re-reading your letter, thinking about the things he wished to write to you in reply. Vowing to put them on paper if he ever saw the end of this thing. By the time he made it back to Aldbourne in July, he made a visit to the hospital where you had been stationed only to be informed by Barbara that you’d left for France with the 47th Field Hospital five days earlier.
He swallowed his bitter chuckle while Barbara kindly scrawled your post address now that you were deployed. “If you’d like to write to her.” She murmured timidly and he took it with a soft thanks before heading back to his billet.
It made perfect sense that you had been sent to France; nurses with field experience were hard to come by and you were obviously too talented to loiter in England. Thus, he had taken the time to reply to you, a proper letter this time, though still withholding his true feelings now that his eyes were well and truly opened to the rapidity with which a man’s fortunes could change.
Mail was slow, your replies taking a frustrating amount of time to reach him, and Eugene was certain you felt the same, especially as it became increasingly apparent that your paths through Europe were remarkably similar and yet did not cross again. Not until Easter Sunday of 1945.
2nd Battalion had left Belgium that morning, crossing the border into Germany in the grey light of dawn. It had been deeply unsettling to pass so close by their former positions in Bastogne, Foy, and Rachamps the day before. Memories, thick as winter fog, had put a damper on the mood of excitement amongst the men at being on the move again, a hush that persisted into the morning. It was a quiet that allowed them all to hear the frantic honking of a jeep horn, many of them, including Eugene, sitting higher in their transports to see a vehicle painted with the Geneva cross pull up beside that occupied by Winters, Nixon, Speirs and Welsh, bringing the entire convoy to a halt.
Craning his neck, Eugene strained to hear the conversation, but his attempts were futile as they were simply too far away. His brow furrowed as the rest of the batallion’s Lieutenants were called up by Speirs, a map was then unfurled on the hood of the jeep, intense conversation occurring amongst the huddled officers. Like some kind of silent movie without the title cards.
“What the hell do you think that’s all about?” Heffron griped beside him, and Eugene shook his head, completely at a loss.
It wasn’t until Lipton returned to the back of their transport, hauled up with the assistance of Luz’s friendly hand, that Eugene understood the gravity of the situation.
“Hospital convoy has gone missing, boys. Left Aachen over four hours ago and should have arrived in Juchen by now. There’s no trace of them.” He began putting on his gear, a silent signal for everyone to do the same.
“Nobody just vanishes in Germany, Lieutenant.” Heffron muttered grimly, securing his webbing.
“Major Winters’ thoughts exactly. We have eleven nurses and four ambulances unaccounted for somewhere between here and Juchen. So, we’re going to find ‘em.”
“What hospital, sir?” Eugene piped up as he secured his satchel around his body, the men glancing at him, reminding him that he rarely spoke.
“Uh, the 47th Field Hospital I think, Doc.” Lipton replied before getting the men off the truck to begin combing the roadside for clues.
The 47th Field Hospital. Your 47th. He stood rooted to the spot, blind to all that moved in front of him, sound muffled as he felt like the only thing he could be sure of – your safety – came crashing down around him.
“Hey Doc, you coming or what?” Heffron called up to him and Eugene blinked rapidly before hopping out of the back of the transport to follow quickly.
Eleven nurses missing. Field Hospitals had roughly eighteen nurses, if fully staffed, meaning there was more than a fifty-fifty chance you were among the missing. He shoved his balled fists into his pockets and began searching. Searching for what, he had no idea. The infuriating feeling of helplessness rose within him like the tide, relentless and uncontrollable.
It took a further three hours of driving, stopping, searching, until finally a farmer reported having heard machine gun fire earlier that morning near Titz. A yawning pit of dread opened deep within his stomach as all manner of possible scenarios played out in his mind. The three companies split up then, with Easy heading into the town of Titz while Dog continued on the road to Juchen and Fox turned towards Gevelsdorf.
He was not able to lay eyes upon you for another two hours, and to find you soaked in blood had sent him immediately into a frenzied state of triage, desperate to keep you alive after finding you at last. Calmed only by the proof that you were unhurt, at the reasonable explanation for the state of your clothes lying dead behind him, Eugene had never been more annoyed with Webster and Liebgott than when they had interrupted his chance to speak with you.
The rest of 2nd Battalion arrived, taking over the building for the night and securing the prisoners until MPs could arrive the next day to take them to a nearby prison camp. Winters had ensured a wing was reserved exclusively for the nurses, though you had assured him a guard would not be necessary. Eugene had offered himself and the other Battalion medics to help with the schedule you were drawing up to watch over the patients, but you politely refused, insisting he had done enough. Eugene certainly did not feel that way.
Finding himself unable to sleep that night, he slipped out of the room he shared with Spina, Heffron, and Ramirez, making his way down to the makeshift treatment space you had set up to see if he could be of any use. He stopped at top of the stairs as he nearly ran into you, making your way up to the nurses’ wing with your wet field jacket in your hands.
“Roe!” You breathed, startled, before smiling at him tiredly. “Can’t sleep?”
He shook his head. “Ya neithah?”
“Wanted to try and get this somewhat clean for tomorrow.” You murmured, gesturing to your jacket before glancing at him. “But no, not really.” You admitted softly.
He motioned with his head for you to follow him to sit on the ledge beneath a large bay window opposite the staircase. You draped your damp jacket over the back of a wooden chair that had seen better days, turning to look out over the landscape as raindrops began to patter against the glass. He slid a cigarette from the pack in his breast pocket, offering it you and only once you had declined with a shake of your head and kind smile, lit it for himself.
“Nine hours isn’t a long time considering the years I’ve spent away from home.” Your hushed voice, a continuation of your conversation from hours previous, broke through the sound of the rain hitting the windowpane.
Eugene exhaled slowly, smoke curling from his lips. “It only takes seconds ta die…”
You eyed him sharply in the dim light, shaking your head. “You of all people know how little control we have over that.”
Swallowing tightly, as you did have a point, he nodded. “Sorry Ma’am.”
You huffed a little. “Eugene, every time you call me Ma’am I feel like my mother.”
“But ya outrank me, even mo’e so now 1st Lieutenan’.” His nose crinkled in confusion.
You hummed noncommittally, an uneasy silence falling over the pair of you as Eugene finished his cigarette, stubbing it out against the windowsill behind him. Neither of you seemed certain of what to say or do next. Of what you were anymore – no longer just acquaintances, colleagues, or pen pals. Despite his best efforts, Eugene was terrifyingly convinced you were a great deal more.
“What’s something you wish you had done before you came over here?” Your voice broke through his thoughts, and he inhaled sharply before giving you his answer without hesitation.
“Shoulda asked ya ta dance tha’ nigh’.”
He heard your breath leave your lips with a shudder, watching you stand with the sinking feeling that he’d misjudged the entirety of your relationship. It was only when you turned back to him with your hand outstretched that he remembered how to breathe.
“Dance with me now, Eugene.”
His eyes widened, confusion surely evident on his face even as he set his worn and battered hand in yours. “But there’s no music.”
Your fingers closed around his, tugging him to his feet as you began to hum that Vera Lynn song, bringing a smile to his face as he set his other hand on your waist to begin dancing with you in earnest. Your fingers laced through his, a shiver running through him as you wrapped your arm around his shoulder before laying your head against his collarbone.
“Cold?” You whispered and he shook his head.
“It’s nice.” He replied as you started humming again, the repetitive nature of the song making him grin slightly. “Finally got ta dance in you’ comba’ boots.” He murmured, discreetly inhaling the scent of you.
You giggled softly against him, leaning back to look over his features in the low light. “Why didn’t you ask me to dance, Eugene?”
He swallowed roughly. “Ya looked tired, Ma’am. Didn’t want ta make ya suffah any mo’e.”
“Dancing with you is not a hardship.” You whispered, the pair of you still moving to the ghost of the song in the now silent hallway. “I would have said yes with one of those smiles you like.”
He laugh softly, squeezing your hand slightly. “I was worried, too. Worried I’d do somethin’ stupid like make ya care ‘bout me an’ then get myself killed. But then I thought I’d lost ya today…did lose ya fo’ nine hou’s…” His throat clenched with emotion, sealing off his ability to say anything further.
Your feet came to a stop as you eyed him intensely. “Eugene Roe, you have no control over that either.” You admonished gently. “I do care about you, whether you like it or not.”
The sound of his heart frantically pumping blood through his body filled his ears as he stared at you in wonder, awestruck by your fierce determination to bear affection for him despite the risks.
“M..may I…” He struggled to speak through the overwhelming adoration he felt for you, and you sighed fondly, leaning in to press your lips to his.
His grip tightened on your waist as his eyes fluttered shut, your soft mouth feeling like the finest silk brushing against his. He sighed dreamily as your fingers abandoned his shoulder to wend their way into his hair, drawing him tighter to you. He indulged in the impulse to slide his hand up your spine to rest between your shoulder blades, the feeling of your back arching in response headier than any liquor he’d ever tasted.
Your fingers gently unlaced from his, hand shifting to cup his jaw as you pulled back to press featherlight kisses across his brow and down his nose. “You didn’t lose me, Eugene.” You sighed against his skin, lips traveling across his left cheek. “I’m just fine.”
As you made your way along his jaw, he turned his head to kiss you fiercely, tongue darting past your startled lips to communicate all the things he could not seem to be able to say, holding your body so tightly against his as though he wished he could absorb you into his very being. You clung to him, matching the ferocity of his embrace with a reassuring tenderness of your own that had him melting against you, face burrowing against your neck.
“Thank ya, Ma’am.” He sighed with a bone deep weariness and felt your body shake against his as you laughed softly.
“Call me something better, Eugene.” You chided sweetly, kissing his temple. “Especially if you’re going to kiss me like that.”
He smirked before pressing his lips to the column of your throat, trailing kisses up towards your jaw, reveling in the way your breath hitched in your throat in response. “Alrigh’ cher.” He smiled warmly before kissing you gently.
“Cher.” You repeated softly once he released your lips.
“Cajun for darlin’.”
He watched your teeth sink into your lower lip, a grin stretching over your face as you looked to him through your lashes making the muscles of his abdomen clench.
“That will do quite nicely, Eugene.” You sighed before your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him in to kiss him deeply.
You were both short of breath by the time you pulled back, hand caressing his face as your features contracted apologetically. “I should go before someone finds us.”
Eugene nodded begrudgingly as you were once again speaking the truth. “Goodnigh’, cher.” He said softly, loosening his hold on you.
“We’ll met again, Eugene.” You smiled, eyes twinkling with mirth in the not-so-dark hallway as the light of pre-dawn began to seep through the tracks of rain cascading down the window, and his eyes widened as he realized that was the name of that damn song.
“You’d bettah not be covered in blood nex’ time, cher.” He admonished playfully, freshly addicted to the way your lips ticked up at the corners every time he said it.
“Likewise, Eugene.” You laughed and blew him a kiss before grabbing your surely still-damp field jacket, walking backwards as far as you could until you absolutely had to turn around.
He stood on the porch the next morning, hiding from the rain as he watched you load the nurses in your charge into newly arrived ambulances to complete your journey to the field hospital in Juchen. He barely looked up as he heard the scuff of jump boots on the worn brick beside him, Heffron leaning against the wall to light a cigarette, trying to soak in every last moment of your presence before you were inevitably parted once again. It was a great comfort to know you’d be just twenty-five kilometres behind him, perhaps a sign of kinder times ahead.
“So, you get your hands on some tits in Titz?” Heffron asked with a sly grin, making Eugene turn to him sharply.
“Heffron, watch you’ damn mouth.” He snapped at him brusquely, making the redhead’s eyes widen.
“Sheesh, Doc, she must be somethin’ special. Sorry.” He squawked and pointed at the road. “She’s looking this way.”
Eugene looked back quickly to see you, drenched by rain, waving at him with a bright smile he could still see despite your helmet, and he waved back, cheeks aching a little as his expression automatically mirrored yours.
“You’d bettah keep this to you’self, Heffron.” Eugene rounded on him with a serious look that he hoped was intimidating as soon as you pulled the backdoor of the vehicle shut behind you.
“Your secret is safe with me, lover boy.” Heffron winked, and Eugene did not believe him for a second.
-------------------------
Read the Sequel - Born To Be Yours
Band of Brothers Masterlist
Tag list: @bcon24 , @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos
#eugene roe x reader#eugene roe imagines#eugene roe imagine#eugene roe#doc roe#band of brothers x reader#band of brothers imagines#band of brothers imagine#band of brothers
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Okay this is part 2 from this anon request, which one of my lovely followers asked if I could do in the comments @beautifulbluejay <3
Easy Boys x Reader Headcanons - How They React To You Going MIA.
It happened just before his leave to Paris, in fact the reason Nix pushes his leave so hard is because everybody genuinely thought you had gone.
So the trip to Paris isn’t exactly a leave for him, he’s alone and just thinking about you the whole time.
Grief stricken- nobody else knew about your relationship considering it was fraternisation, so he literally feels so alone.
This one’s a lil different- but you’d be completely lost and track Winters down in Paris, all you’d need to do is ask Lewis and he’d probs blabber mouth it to you- although he does think you’re a little crazy because you’ve just gone MIA in the middle of Europe for almost a week and now you’re wanting to travel to Paris.
Anyway you’d get to the correct place, despite having a slight cut on your forehead and grazed knees you’re physically fine- but you get caught up in a German hospital during your time lost and it’s mf scary. You’re so lucky you’re still alive.
You’d knock on the door (assuming it was his) and when he answers it he kinda cracks it open only slightly, and then rips the rest fully open and has a literal heart attack.
“Dick?!” Your voice cracks and you’re crashing into his chest before he can even fathom.
“You’re- you’re here- I?” He’s overwhelmed, wondering if he’s dreaming or not until his arms wrap tightly around you, feeling you cling onto dear life.
Once the shock has worn off and tears were shed Dick can’t let you go. He’s slightly dizzied with practically the shock of his life.
When you’re sleeping he keeps watching over you, checking you’re real.
He can’t do enough for you, gets you food water (ofc), checks over any wounds you have, really talks to you about it- like Dick out of all the men seems extremely emotionally intelligent, so he wants to make sure you’re really okay.
“Just tell me and I can send you somewhere safer…”
“I’d rather just be where you are.”
Lewis Nixon:
After he was supposed to jump into Berlin and he only just made it out of the plane, he turned up to see the explosion right before his eyes. The Germans were shooting down the planes- including the ones he knew you alongside so many other flight nurses and young men were on.
Not only had it gone terribly- now his trauma of knowing you’re potentially gone makes everything 10x harder.
He’d not been able to see you much throughout the war, you’re often stationed in different areas, but he always worried about you, and just then he was so close to you, yet still so far away- it pained Lewis.
Replays the moment over and over again in his head, drinks more and more and as the days pass and he receives no letter from you or your company or family- he knows the worst is coming.
Asks Dick if he should write a letter for your family- he was there after all. Dick informs him it’s probably best to wait until he’s found out what’s really happened to you.
But the silence was screaming at him- and every time be see’s a nurse in a uniform near him he grows restless.
He’s walking near the hospital one day, where he knows hundreds of the prisoners from the camp are being treated. He watches from afar as dozens more of them pile out of trucks and vans, some of them unable to walk- the rest of them still being treated inside the walls of the camp.
He turns away when he see’s the nurses, feeling overwhelmed by the grief until he hears a quick, “Lewis!”
He turns around so quick, dropping his cigarette when he’s stunned by the sound of your voice.
Seconds later you’re running towards him, grinning and giggling. He feels his chest squeeze tighter and he’s practically scurrying towards your direction to embrace you in the biggest hug of his lifetime.
Holy fuck. Lewis thinks. Holy fuck, fuck, fuck. Thank god.
His eyes close and he squeezes you tighter, hand pressing to the back of your head as he attempts to calm himself down whilst you cling onto him.
He very quickly pulls you towards his lips, kissing you deeply, so needily, he doesn’t care who see’s.
Both of you keep talking over the top of one another, excited to be in each others presence again.
“But I thought your plane went down?!” Lewis doesn’t notice until you hold his hands that he’s shaking.
“No, we turned back miles ago, it was too dangerous- oh I’m so glad you’re okay, I didn’t know what happened to you.”
The feeling is mutual, and even if you only get a night to spend together Lewis makes it all worthwhile.
Ron Speirs:
This man is tense asf from the second anything happens.
“What happened to the nurses?” His voice is quiet yet sharp and quick. His hand grabs at Nixon’s arm, urging him to answer immediately.
“Uh, I don’t know. They were in the hospital that got bombed, we’re not sure.” Lewis sighs out slowly, clearly affected by the trauma, but he has no idea about Ron and you.
Ron takes it upon himself to literally do anything he can in his power to find you- ofc he’s worried about everybody else, but the two of you have been together in private way back since before you were deployed. His hearts in his chest.
“We got them all sir, but one.”
“Y/l/n. Where’s Y/l/n?” He attempts to keep cool but his heart is thumping, he has the worst sickness and he can barely hold back how he’s feeling.
The man pauses and shakes his head. “Don’t know, sir.”
The whole company is obviously in grieving, this is when he’s still part of D-company but he’s in misery- he breaks only when he’s alone and in front of the men he keeps an even more tough exterior than ever.
Truthfully he’s hard to be around, he tries to push you to the back of his mind, trying his best to accept you’re gone and that’s it but he can’t.
He’s in the infirmary one day, after literally being shot in the ass- he almost can’t believe what’s going on and refuses to believe it’s true. Ron for the first time feels weak and useless.
“Can somebody help?! Please!” A frantic calling from a more than familiar voice cries out as he’s laid on his side in the bed, curtains closed around his area.
This is the first thing that causes him to move. Ignoring all soreness (he probs just blocks out the pain) he crawls out of bed at the sounds of scurrying and desperate shouting of the medical staff.
Ron could’ve sworn that was your voice, and when he stands, opening the curtains and staring straight at you, he thinks he’s seen a ghost.
He mutters your name so quietly, but you look up, face dirty and slightly bruised and bloodied, uniform dusty with a GI woollen jumper hanging over your frame. Like you’re just looking at each other.
“Excuse me, please.” You’d just tell the medical staff, hurrying your way down the hospital, weaving passed people until you’re stepping closer and closer.
Ron’s breathing and heart increases in a state of shock and you nudge him back in, yanking the curtain shut before you just engulf one another in a hug.
“Ron.” You’d mutter through tears, he grips you even tighter, engulfing your smaller body. “I was so scared, Ron.”
He pulls back your face, his eyes wide and stunned before holding either side of your face and pulling you in for a deep, borderline desperate kiss.
It’s the best comfort either of you have had in days, and once your lips part you fall back into his arms.
He’s probably lost for words for the first few minutes, and he’ll become all teary eyes for the first time in front of you.
“Are you okay? What happened to you?” He speaks for the first time, checking over you worriedly after remembering you must’ve been in that shelled out hospital
“There was Germans… I took a patient and ran away in the bombings. We got lost- we only just got back here now. I don’t know if he’s okay or not.”
All he can do is comfort you and hold you close, still in a state of disbelief.
“Why-why are you in here? What’s wrong?” You’d eventually ask. “I was shot.” Ron spoke in a blasé manner. He didn’t care about himself, only you.
“Where?”
… “my ass.”
Babe Heffron:
Hear me out, you’re a little bit clumsy yet always careful with everybody’s life but seemingly your own?
Like you’ve been at war for 8 months or so and still Babe worries that you’ve stumbled onto enemy lines just because you went to find a man’s boots or something.
He looks out for you and takes care of you so much, like it’s so so sweet and everybody’s aware that you’re Babe’s girl, even if you keep it more or less hidden out of respect for the fraternisation rules.
Anyway, you’re assigned to second platoon & that’s how you and Babe got close initially, the second nurse was sadly lost, and ever since then in Bastogne, Babe has been extra worried that something might happen to you.
It’s the day after Jackson passed and everybody’s exhausted, even though they’ll be moving off the line, they’re all sick of war.
“Hey anybody seen y/n?” He’d glance around the room where she’d usually be hanging out when she wasn’t at the aid station.
“She’s not at the aid station?” Joe would ask.
“No.” Babe would frown, pushing himself up and heading out.
He tries not to panic at first, but admittingly he has an anxiety nibbling away at the back of his mind.
Something just feels off, you’re not at CP, at the infirmary, with the other nurses, where you’re billeted.
“Babe!” One of the nurses shrieks in surprise as he bursts into the house they were stationed in.
“Sorry, sorry. Anybody seen y/n?” None of them have, not since the early afternoon and it was nearing 6. Your duty ended three hours ago.
“Shit, shit, shit.”
(Okay this isn’t as extreme as some of the other cases, I wanted to change it up a bit)
20 minutes later he’s chain smoking like crazy, asking all the guys where the hell you were.
“Babe? What’re you yapping about?” Your voice appears, giggling as he snaps his head, almost doing a 360.
At first relief floods through him, but then he see’s your helping a limping soldier, bleeding just below your eyebrow.
“Jesus- what the hell?!” His voice raised, breath stuck in his chest.
“A little help here, Babe?”
After hooking up under the other side of the wounded back, he helps you both back to the aid station firing questions a million miles an hour in your direction.
“I’m fine, Babe.” You’d soothe. “What happened?! Where th’ hell were ya?!” He’d take both your shoulders, holding his hand over the cut on your forehead, in an attempt to apply pressure.
“Babe-” you’d swat his hand away, becoming distracted with the sight behind you. Clearly you didn’t realise how worried he was.
“Ya shouldn’t run off like that!”
“Babe-”
“Ya got me worried sick!”
“Edward! His leg is crushed! Let me go help!”
“Edward?!”
“Wait here, alright? I’ll be 10 minutes.”
Babe waits, watching you help some of the other nurses and medics with the man you both carried inside, tending to what looked to be a badly wounded leg. He grimaced and turned away, growing an even more profound respect for you (if that was even possible).
When you’re done you head straight back to him. “Sorry, Babe, his leg was so-” You go to hold his arm but instead he turns, engulfing you in a bone crushing hug.
“I thought I’d lost ya, never do that again.”
Finally, you’d silence and realise just how worried he was. He was border lining upset, his frustration had dissolved and turned into pure relief.
“I’m okay.” You’d whisper, leading him to the quieter area of the porch.
“Where were ya?” He’d glance over you, checking head to toe everything was okay, hands still on your forearms.
“I went to get some supplies, then I found him- his leg was stuck under rubble. I couldn’t just leave him.”
“What ‘bout ya head?”
“I knocked myself in the face, you know what I’m like.”
“Oh thank god, ya scared me, angel.”
Ugh he’s such a sweetheart, just apologise to him and promise you won’t do that again without telling him.
#band of brothers x reader#band of brothers#ron speirs x reader#band of brothers imagines#band of brothers headcanons#dick winters x reader#lewis nixon x reader#babe heffron x reader
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the sniper (joseph liebgott x sniper! reader)
summary: when you transferred from dog company to easy company following the battle of bloody gulch, you thought you knew what to expect of men in the military— though you really wanted joe liebgott to prove you wrong
word count: just over 3500
warnings: period-typical sexism & misogyny (big part of the story), very minor violence, denying feelings, mutual pining, reader lowkey has trust issues, full of other characters but hopefully no one's ooc?? also this fic is kinda messy 😭
notes: happy thanksgiving! enjoy this fic for the holidays 💞 also your favs AREN'T sexist, just confused
Gossip, you realized, was an easy way to kill time for the men of the military, especially with the recent news that there would be a transfer to Easy Company— the transfer being you, of course. You had no idea you were such a hot topic until you walked down a street of Aldbourne in search of the man currently in charge of your new company, Lieutenant Winters, and overheard a trio of soldiers discussing rumors as they sat around awaiting orders.
“Hey, have you heard that there’s a transfer coming from D-Company?” one said, lighting a cigarette.
“Whew, he must’ve not taken any smokes from Lieutenant Sparky, huh, Don?” another chuckled, stealing the cigarette out of who you guessed was Don’s fingers and puffing for emphasis, much to Don’s displeasure.
Huffing, Don continued, “He’s a sniper, apparently! Better than Shifty!”
“Nah, no one’s better than Shifty,” the third butted in. “Shifty can shoot you right between the eyes blindfolded.”
“Shifty would deny that ‘til he died, Penk,” said the second with a smile.
“It’s true, Skip! Apparently he tracked a target from 1,000 yards away and still got him in the head! Bang! Just like that,” Don said while he mimicked holding a rifle and firing.
“Psh, our boy Shifty could do that, or better: 2,000 yards, right?” Skip nudged Penk with his shoulder.
Penk shrugged. “Length don’t matter, anyway. It’s what you do with the gun, not how far it shoots.”
Skip and Don shared a look and grinned, the latter joking, “Don’t you mean distance, Alex? What, you insecure about something?”
The trio devolved into laughter and banter, but was suddenly quieted as Don patted the others and pointed at you approaching. Several other men standing nearby swiveled their heads to watch as well.
A woman dressed in fatigues, the shoulder of her uniform emblazoned with the Screaming Eagles patch, a M1 Garand slung around her back— they couldn't seem to get their mind around it. Disregarding their curious stares (you’d gotten a lot of them for the past two years or so that you've been enlisted), you walked past the group of spectators.
A couple of men whistled lowly, and a murmur spread through the small crowd. You stopped in your tracks for a moment, eyes downward in thought. Surely one of these men knows where Lieutenant Winters is. You turned on your heel toward the group.
“Afternoon,” you addressed the onlookers, who were now either standing up or gathering around in interest. Your eyes went from man to man, meeting inquisitive and suspicious stares alike, unfazed. “Anyone know where I can find Lieutenant Winters?”
“You, uh, you lost?” a diminutive man — Perconte, his name tag read — asked.
One with a strict face and a glower already etched into it — Martin — stepped into the scattered group. “Who’s asking?”
“Private (Y/N), sir,” you said with a quick salute that was returned. “I’m transferring from Dog Company to Easy Company. I was told to look for a Lieutenant Winters.”
The men exchanged a look amongst each other.
The man from earlier, Don, spoke up with awe apparent in his voice. “You’re a sniper?”
You turned to him with a curt nod. “Yes, I’m a sharpshooter.”
Then a lanky, scrappy-looking guy, Liebgott, entered with a smirk tugging upon his lips. Just by looking at his crooked smile and raised eyebrows, you knew he was going to cause you trouble. Just another man ogling at you like you're nothing but a pretty face. What else is new? “You need help getting around base?”
“No thank you, that won’t be necessary,” you swiftly rebuffed, turning your attention back to the rest of the men. You set them with an expectant look.
“You can find Lieutenant Winters over there at CP,” Randleman, a large red-headed man, said around a hefty cigar in his mouth, nodding his head in the tent’s direction. “If he’s not there, try the mess cabin.”
With a small smile, grateful that someone finally answered your question instead of asking more of them, you thanked him, saluted, and walked off.
As you started towards CP, you heard behind your back, “Did Roosevelt change something while we were overseas? ‘Cause I just saw a lady wearing paratrooper clothing with a rifle ‘round her back.”
“Very astute, George,” someone replied.
You could almost hear the smirk in Liebgott’s voice as he declared, “I’m gonna go talk to her.”
“Yeah, come back alive,” another voice — Skip, maybe — chimed in. “Speirs might’ve rubbed off on her.”
You only had a few seconds to mentally prepare yourself before you heard footsteps catching up behind you. Liebgott was now walking side by side with you, matching your brisk pace.
“Hey, (Y/N), right?”
You took a sidelong glance at him. “That’s right.”
“Joseph D. Liebgott. Technician 5th-Grade.”
“And is there a reason why you’re following me to CP, Liebgott?”
“Thought I’d show you around base, get to know you a little.”
“And I thought I declined your assistance,” you said firmly. “I was part of Dog Company; I'm not new around here.”
“Alright, how about introducing you to Easy men when you’re finished?” He threw a smile your way. “They’re curious about you.”
You slightly grimaced at the thought of being at the center of attention for so many strangers. “I’d rather not.”
“Why? They’re great guys. I don’t know about Dog Company men and their Lieutenant Speirs, but Easy men, especially Toccoa men, are different.”
They don’t seem all that different to me. You gripped the strap of your gun a little tighter. “Once again, I’ll pass.”
He shrugged. “You’ll warm up to us.”
A tense silence ensued. You did your best to not seem bothered by it. Usually by this point people gave up and stopped talking to you entirely.
“So, uh,” he began, running his hands through his hair. Of course you weren’t getting rid of him that easily. Your intuition earlier was right. “Why’re you transferring over to Easy? No offense, but we've got a helluva marksman already.”
“I wasn’t given a reason, just an order.”
“That so? Well, maybe you’ll take his place as our resident sniper, huh?”
“Looking forward to it,” you responded drily.
He chuckled. “You’ll fit right into Easy with the rest of the snarkers. Where you from, (Y/N)?”
You eyed him cautiously. “Lansing, Michigan.”
“Get outta here, you serious? I'm from there too!” Liebgott cracked a smile and gazed at you. “Man, I might’ve seen you around and just haven’t realized it. Could've been talking to you years ago.”
You pursed your lips. “It wouldn't have helped your chances, Liebgott.”
Grinning, he said, undaunted, “What chances? We're just talking. I wanna know the lady I’ll be fighting with.”
“You just want to know if I’m single or not. That’s all,” you icily said as the two of you neared the tent.
Apparently found out, Liebgott smiled broadly and stopped a few feet from CP while you continued walking. “Well, are you?”
You turned to face him. “Yes, I’m single, and no, I’m not interested in sleeping with you.”
You couldn’t see the smile melt off his face as you entered the tent, eyes searching amongst all the men and equipment for the tall soldier you’ve seen conversing with Lieutenant Speirs before.
“Private (Y/N),” a voice called. You looked in its direction and finally found Winters.
“Lieutenant Winters.” You saluted.
“You’re the new transfer, right?” he asked, beckoning you further into the tent for some privacy. You were thankful that most of the men here were too occupied with their own duties to notice you.
You followed him to a quiet corner. “Yes, sir.”
“Met the men yet?”
“Some of them.”
“Anyone give you trouble?” he asked gently. “You can tell me.”
You paused, thinking. Nothing past some inquisitive stares and a couple of questions. “No, sir.”
Winters perceived your hesitation. “If that changes, tell me. They're good men, but they might be a bit eager to meet you.”
You nodded. Liebgott certainly was. He analyzed your face for a second before continuing, “Try to get yourself acquainted at dinner before you go into combat with them. That’ll be all, Private.”
You saluted, knowing full well that you’ll most likely try to get a seat by yourself, away from the clamor of the men.
“Thank you, sir.”
-
It turned out that no seat was good enough to escape the onslaught of questions.
You had gotten there early and took a seat at the far end of one of the tables with a book in hand and not much of an appetite. Unfortunately for you, being one of the first ones there instead of a head in a crowd of people singled you out, and eventually you were surrounded by men wanting to know more.
“Hey, this is the new replacement I’ve been hearing so much about, yeah?” Bill Guarnere, or Wild Bill, as they called him, questioned, shoving himself into one of the seats at your table.
“Transfer, Gonorrhea, not a replacement,” Liebgott said from your side. When he had entered the mess cabin, you had attempted to hide yourself with your book, but to no avail. He had beelined toward you, beaming ear to ear as he slid into the seat next to you.
“You into books?” he said, eyes going from you to the book in your hands.
You thought that he might actually surprise you.“Yeah, are you?”
He scoffed lightheartedly. “What, you kidding? I love to read!”
A ghost of a smile graced your face. “What kind?”
“Oh, you know, Dick Tracy, Flash Gordon, mostly!” he said, seemingly proud of himself, and your smile disappeared.
Soon after that, people swarmed your table. If you were being fair, though, Liebgott had spoken for you for most of the night, making sure you could read in relative peace. If you didn't know any better, you’d say that he was just enjoying you being by his side, but you were still wary of any underlying intentions (let’s say, getting into your pants) he might have.
Yet, out of the corner of your eyes, you saw the way he looked at you from time to time with a small smile upturning his lips, and you wanted to believe he didn't have any.
“Transfer, replacement, whatever,” Bill brushed it off with a wave of his hand. “What I wanna know is—”
“—why she’s a girl?” Liebgott finished. “Jeez, I dunno, she’s only been asked this twelve times tonight.”
“If you’d let me finish,” Bill said with a pointed look at Liebgott as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, “I was gonna ask if she did shoot a Kraut from 1,000 yards away.”
“You’d be giving ole Shifty a real run for his money, ain't that right, Shift?” Joe — the other one, Joe Toye — said from beside Bill, reaching over to another table and shaking one of the guys there.
Shifty, you assumed, looked over and met your eyes with a kind smile. “No, no, I’m sure she's a better shot than me. Y'all give me too much credit.”
“That’s what being humble will get ya.” Bill chuckled and puffed from his cigarette. “Your spot as Easy’s best shot out from under ya.”
The table laughed, and you steeled yourself before uttering in a quiet, yet steady voice, “It was two men.”
A hush descended over the table. Liebgott turned to look at you. “What?”
“Two men. I dropped the first. The other one heard and started running. I dropped him next. Both in the head,” you relayed, without the humor of a storyteller but the gravity of a historian. You didn't know it, but you had a stony look in your eye.
Luckily, you were saved from the stunned silence by a man getting up and reciting a poem, but you could feel Liebgott’s eyes burning into you. With fear? Admiration? You weren’t sure, but you didn't dare look over.
-
Joe Liebgott was nothing if not persistent. For months now, he'd been lingering around you, flirting and striking up conversations with you. To be honest, you never outright said for him to stop (besides that one time in the very beginning when you said you weren’t interested), so you guessed he wasn't overstepping any boundaries.
Still, he seemed determined to get you into his bed.
“C’mon, I think we’d look cute together!”
“That’s what you think, Joe,” George said, squatting next to his friend, “Giving her heart eyes and all. Meanwhile, she looks at you like you're her next target.”
Brushing his teeth, Frank followed the other two’s gaze across the road, where you were happily talking with Bull and Shifty. He spat out the toothpaste residue on the ground beside him and said, counting on his fingers, “Seems like the only people she gives the time of day to are Shifty, Bull, Doc Roe, even Webster.”
“Who, if you'll notice,” George said, gesturing with a cigarette between his fingers, “are all quiet, reserved, well-mannered people. You, on the other hand, got a loud mouth and, uh, what’s it called, Frank?”
“A short fuse,” Frank supplied.
“Yeah, a short fuse. She probably thinks you’re trying to get into bed with her, in which case, you're shit outta luck.”
Frank said, shaking his head, “Scary, that girl. With her rifle and that look in her eyes.”
Liebgott exhaled. “But I’m not tryna just sleep with her! I even gave her some of my favorite comics ‘cause I knew she likes to read.”
“Yeah, real books, Joe— that's why she gets along with Webster!” Frank exclaimed. “You sure you didn't give her the pornos?”
George laughed. “That'd give her the wrong impression.”
Liebgott narrowed his eyes as you giggled at something Shifty said. “You’re right, maybe she doesn't like me.”
Standing up, George sighed and snuffed out his cigarette. “That’s not the point, Joe. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”
“Yeah, like I’m her next target? You told me already.”
“No,” George said with an exaggerated eye roll, “like she wants more outta you. ‘Cause all she's getting is the impression that you wanna fuck her.”
Liebgott stood up as well, still watching as you laughed with Bull and Shifty. George and Frank patted him on the back.
“She’s all yours, buddy,” Frank assured with a sympathetic smile. “She makes heart eyes at you too.”
-
There were only a handful of women selected to serve outside of something like a nurse’s position; you just so happened to be one of them, most likely because of your experience with a rifle. So, you’d gotten used to the lustful ways some men would watch you, or the demeaning ways they would taunt you. You guessed almost all of them had never seen a woman with a combat position in the military before (or by the way some of them acted, ever spoken to a woman at all).
But such men only assumed that you had earned your jump wings by sleeping around with officers. They assumed that they should be able to get in on it too, or that they should condemn you for something you didn't even do, for being unworthy and unskilled all because you were a woman.
It had always been a difficult pill to swallow: your military career would be littered with scathing remarks and crude comments, and you’d have to be strictly professional or closed-off with most men lest you’d be seen as a whore rather than just “scary”. But the hardest fact to accept was the fact that Liebgott, for all the kindness he had shown you, all the times he talked to you like you were a human being— that he most likely had the same intentions as everyone else.
As much as you relished his company, his crooked smile, his jokes, his lingering touches (and as much as you had to pretend you didn't), you had to accept his end goal was for you to warm his bed. And sure, maybe he was more dogged with his efforts than other men were, and maybe your friends in the company had told you that he was a genuine guy, but you just couldn't believe that he had anything else in mind when it came to you.
Maybe all the criticisms thrown your way had affected you more than you thought.
With the success of Operation Pegasus, Bull had dragged you (not literally, though you’re sure he could've) into a pub in the Netherlands for some celebratory drinking.
You didn't drink, and you disliked pubs; the smell of booze and drunken people was often overpowering, but at least you found quiet company with Bull. Across the room from your table, you saw Liebgott staring at you with a smile and a drink in his hand. It seemed as though he had noticed you the second you entered.
“It’s alright if I leave you alone for a second, little lady?” Bull said, chewing on a cigar like usual. “You'll be fine?”
“Sure, Bull. Go enjoy yourself.”
The large man smiled and patted you on the back before leaving to talk to some of the other men in the company.
Not one to mingle, you were only a few pages into your book when you caught the attention of an intoxicated soldier.
“Look who it is,” Cobb said to himself, hardly standing upright. You recognized his voice, seeing as this wasn’t the first time he’s derided you. “Ms. 1,000 Yards, huh. Bet the officers over at Dog Company only made up that story so it looks like you had some use.”
You ground your teeth. Typically, if you didn't give someone like him the satisfaction of an answer, they’d leave you alone. Why defend yourself and give people another word to call you: bitchy?
“What's a woman got to do in the military anyway?” Bottle in hand, he shambled towards you. “Besides suck the dicks of the men who are actually fighting.”
Steadying your uneven breath, you tried to look behind him to find Liebgott, but his body blocked your view.
Taking another swig, he spat, “That why they transferred you over from Dog Company? Those boys got their fill of you and passed you onto us, huh? Fuckin’ good for nothing slut.”
“What the fuck did you just say to her?” You heard Liebgott’s voice and felt relief wash over you.
Cobb turned around, and you caught a glimpse of an incensed Liebgott, a fierce glint to his eyes.
“Tell me what you just said to her.”
“Oh, please, Joe, you trying to get her to suck your cock faster—”
He was interrupted by a fist flying his way, toppling the inebriated man. Liebgott got on top of him and began trading punches before the surrounding men, drawn by the commotion, tried to pull him off of Cobb.
Your eyes were blown wide as you stood there, speechless. Bull found you and pulled you by the arm out of the pub.
“But what about Liebgott?” you said, peering behind you.
Bull shrugged and did the same. “Seems like he was winning anyway.”
That night in your billet, all you could think about was the fury that twisted Liebgott’s face into one you only saw on the battlefield.
And it was all for you.
-
The next day, you searched for Liebgott at breakfast, the table feeling a bit more empty without him taking up his normal spot beside you, but he had found you first, as he usually did.
“Hey, (Y/N), can I talk to you for a sec?” he said, his hand on your shoulder. You turned around in your seat and were met with a slightly bruised Liebgott, a small cut across his nose. Concern filling your chest, you nodded, and his hand held your wrist as he led you out of the mess hall.
“So, uh, about last night,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes searched yours for how you felt about him bringing it up, but he found no hints in your unreadable expression. “I’m sorry for fighting Cobb for you. You're a strong woman, you could handle him yourself—”
Smiling at his uncharacteristic hesitance, you cut his apology short with a peck on the cheek. You pulled away and saw his temporary surprise.
“Thank you, Joe. I appreciated you standing up for me. It means a lot.”
His face broke into the widest beam you've ever seen.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked eagerly, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could even process what they were. “Shit, sorry, that was too soon—”
You answered his question by tenderly holding his bruised face with your hands and bringing his lips to yours. You could feel him grin into the kiss as he pulled you closer, and your heart just about melted.
Maybe you had gotten Joe Liebgott all wrong from the start.
“Great, he’s never gonna wash that cheek again!”
-
taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop
#band of brothers#band of brothers x reader#joe liebgott#joe liebgott x reader#hbo war#hbo war fanfic#easy company#101st airborne#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers imagine#band of brothers imagines#joseph liebgott x reader#joseph liebgott#joseph d liebgott
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Hey Mads,
I saw your requests are open. Could i please request a Dating Eugene Roe headcanon? Thank you 💕
Dating Eugene Roe Headcannons
Eugene Roe x Reader
Masterlist
A/N: My first ever BoB fic was about Gene, so he holds a special place in my heart. Thanks for requesting! I loved writing these!! this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!
So you and Gene meet in Aldbourne when Easy first gets moved there in September of 43' (you meet in october).
You're sitting in a coffee shop reading in the corner, and he thinks you're easily the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.
Being a shy guy, Gene doesn't say anything to you the first time he sees you. He just subtly glances at you from his spot across the shop.
Turns out, he isn't as subtle as he thinks and you totally notice the staring but don't mind it because you think he's very handsome.
You come into the shop every saturday morning, and every Saturday morning, he's there as well. After a few weeks of sneaking glances, you decided enough was enough.
You walk over and introduce yourself to him, and BOY does he go red when you say that you've noticed him.
Despite the awkwardness of the beggining of the conversation, things fall into a steady rhythm, and you find yourself enjoying his company.
Gene's very soft-spoken and respectful (the BEST listener in the whole company if you ask me)
You get to know each other a little bit, and when you have to leave, you write down your address on a table napkin with a grin, telling him you're free the next day at 6.
The next day, he shows up to your house at 5:55 with a bouquet of roses, wearing his dress uniform. He offers you his arm, and the two of you are off to Swindon for the night.
It ended with a sweet kiss under the stars at your porch (there was no light on because of the black-out being in effect)
from there, it was history, and you soon fell for the cajun medic, and he fell just as hard for you.
Whenever he gets weekend passes, the two of you go for day trips to Swindon or London, strolling down the streets softly talking.
In London, you take him to Crystal Palace Park, where you lay out a soft blanket and have a cozy picnic. Your head lays on his lap, and he gently runs his hands through your hair as he talks about his family back home.
You LOVE hearing the different stories of his grandmother and her healing abilities. It only makes sense that Gene would become a medic to help people, following in her footsteps.
As his training continued and the concern of Sobel leading the company grew, Gene began to bottle up his anxieties and distance himself from you slightly.
I feel like Gene is the type of guy who wouldn't want to tell you his problems because he doesn't want to add to your plate, so he suffers in silence.
You confront him about it and he sighs before telling you everything about Sobel and how incompetent he is. (you hate him with a burning passion...possibly more than Eugene does, but it's close.)
Sunday dinner with your family becomes a weekly thing as time drags on. Your dad was hesitant to bring an American into your house, but he likes Gene more than he ever would have thought.
I'd like to think that Eugene buys you small trinkets that reminds him of you (idk where this came from but it's in my mind now)
OKAY...JEALOUS GENE IS HOT, MAN
we all know he can get fired up (after moose get's shot, he rips Dick and Harry a new one), but what gets him really fired up is when he's jealous
Some nights when you're out at a pub, men will make passes at you despite him sitting right there...boy it grinds his gears.
I have a feeling he would just sit there silent because if he opens his mouth, he knows he wouldn't be able to control himself (imagine his *angry* look after Sobel screws up the training mission in curahee) .
You notice and reach out for his hand over the table, trying to calm him down. "I'm going to get us some drinks," you squeeze his hand before getting up.
Gene's eyes follow you as you waltz across the room, and he takes a deep breath.
His gaze falls to the table for a moment, and when he turns back to you, he sees red. There's a British soldier at the bar who's all up in your personal space and is getting closer every second. Eugene can see the discomfort all over your face.
He shoots up from the table and quickly makes his way over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you behind him as he faces the guy.
"Do we have a problem here?" He asks, looking down at the man with fire in his gaze.
The Brit cowers instantly, taking his drink off the table before walking away. "No, sir."
Even through the man was super annoying, seeing Gene like that is incredibly hot, and you turn him around and kiss him.
He calms down pretty quickly after that.
Whenever they have to leave for Upottery, you share a sweet goodbye filled with tears (a lot from you and a few from Gene), and promises of writing.
You keep in contact through letter for the whole duration of the war, and the second he can leave after it's over, he comes straight to Aldbourne and asks you to marry him.
Tag List: @liptonsbabe @footprintsinthesxnd @bucky32557038ww2 @flowers-and-fichte @merriell-allesandro-shelton
message or comment if you want to be added to the tag list!
#band of brothers#hbo war#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers imagine#band of brothers x reader#band of brothers imagines#eugene roe#eugene roe x reader#eugene roe imagines#eugene roe headcannons#band of brothers headcannons#hbo war headcannons#gene roe#eugene doc roe
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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.
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