#eugene roe imagine
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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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Band of Brothers Masterlist
George Luz:
Jokes on You
Forever Yours
We're Never Coming Back
Flirt and Blush
Lonely Lips
Aldbourne
Ronald Spiers:
Oh Captain, My Captain
Overprotective Captain
The Captain's Knife
Cuddly Mornings
Have Me
Together in Hell
Joe Liebgott:
Arrogant Lover
Legend
Hate Me, Love Me
Germans Brought Us Together
Lewis Nixon:
Poker Game
Beers, Tomatoes and Suspenders
Broken Hearts Lie All Around Me
A Bet Worth More Than 50 Bucks
The Only One
"I'm Out!"
Blame it on the Alcohol
Secret
Engaged - Part One, Part Two, Part Three (completed)
Get Drunk with Me
The Meaning of Vat69
"At Least Look at Me."
Carwood Lipton:
Sweet Lovin'
Soldier's Rescue
I Wish I Could Have Saved You - Part One, Part Two (completed)
How Are Those Nuts, Sarge?
Eugene Roe:
Forever
French Spy
Like I'm Gonna Lose You
Smile at Me
David Webster:
Sick With Love
Donald Malarkey:
Coming Back to You
Thank You For Your Loving
Cross
The Moment that Mattered
Floyd "Tab" Talbert:
Birthday
Edward "Babe" Heffron:
Light in Hell
Darrel "Shifty" Powers:
Golden Eyes and a Smile Made for War
Richard "Dick" Winters:
War Hero
Joe Toye:
Yes, Sir.
Denver "Bull" Randleman:
Market Garden
Warren "Skip" Muck:
Sandwiches
#band of brothers#hbo war#fanfic#band of brothers imagines#band of brothers imagine#lewis nixon imagine#lewis nixon#george luz#lewis nixon x reader#imagine#george luz imagine#ronald speirs#ronald speirs imagine#joe liebgott#joe liebgott imagine#carwood lipton#carwood lipton imagine#eugene roe#eugene roe imagine#david webster#david webster imagine#donald malarkey#donald malarkey imagine#floyd talbert imagine#floyd talbert#edward heffron#babe heffron#babe heffron imagine#edward heffron imagine#darrel shifty powers
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HC for how Dick, Lewis, Speirs, Joe, Eugene would react to crying s.o pleaseee!
Hey anon, thank you for this! I'm taking Joe as Joe Liebgott because he's my boo so I'm sorry if you meant someone else 🥺❤️
Dick Winters
He's so sweet.
He gives you his handkerchief and wraps his arms around you and lets you cry into his chest until you get it all out.
"It's alright sweetheart we can talk when you're ready"
He holds you tight and lets you know that he's there for you.
Lewis Nixon
Nix....isn't great with crying.
His usual solution is to drink away his feelings so when you start crying he's not sure what to do about it
He pats you on the shoulder and hands you a tissue and tells you it'll all be okay
He's completely hopeless to be honest.
Ronald Speirs
He's very practical about it.
He sits you down and rubs your shoulders until you get it all out.
Once you've cried it out he tells you to talk to him and tell him what's wrong.
And of course he's always got a solution on hand.
Joe Liebgott
He's such a softie
"Aw c'mere darlin' don't cry"
He pulls you in tight against his chest and kisses your cheek.
He rubs little circles on your back with his thumbs and then when you finally stop crying he swipes away the last few tears on your cheeks.
Gene Roe
"Chérie there's no need for tears,"
He kneels down in front of you and puts his hands on your face and leans in close
His thumbs just swipe across your cheeks catching all the tears until they dry up.
Then he kisses you on the forehead and pulls you in for a hug, rubbing your back soothingly.
Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @geniedocroe @swiftwordsforwhattheyare @sofietargaryen @cagzzz107 @stolemyspoons @alejodi0nysus @sunflowerchuck @now-im-a-belieber @50svibes @eugene-emt-roe @pennyllanne @televisionboy @spanishgp @ask-you-what-sir @parajumpboots @mads-weasley @tetragonia
#band of brothers#band of brothers fandom#bob#hbo band of brothers#holdingforgeneralhugs#dick winters#band of brothers imagine#lewis nixon#ron speirs#joe liebgott#gene roe#dick winters imagine#lewis nixon imagine#ronald speirs imagine#joe liebgott imagine#eugene roe#eugene roe imagine
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Chapter 2- Stuck With Me
Summary: After the German bomb run on Bastogne, the locals and American soldiers there that were able, helped piece back together what they could of the town. Medical personnel that had survived still tended to the wounded however they could with whatever supplies they had left. A deserted upper class family home that survived the bombing was temporarily designated as the new aid station until further notice. Although he was internally grieving the loss of Renée and Anna, Eugene steadily pushes through the chaos to provide aid to his fellow Easy members at a moment’s notice. Saria, on the other hand, wasn’t as resilient.
A/N: OC/Rosaria Marie Leone (leh-OHN), EugeneRoeX!FemMedic, WW2, Post D-Day, She/Her Pronouns, Military Terminology, Band of Brothers References, Boondock Saints ‘ll Duce’ Prayer Reference, Mentions of Weaponry, Smoking, Mentions of death, Blood, Graphic Gore, Medical Terminology, Italian and French with English translations
*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*
Story takes towards the end of Episode 6-Bastogne and beginning of Episode 7- The Breaking Point
~~~~~~~
January 3, 1945
Easy Company was still holding the line outside Bastogne in the Ardennes Forest, enduring the cold, the hunger, and the lack of supplies. Not to mention the incompetence and constant absence of their current commanding officer, LT Dike, was mitigating any progress to push through Foy.
The new aid station was set up in a deserted lavish multilevel family home. While the few nurses and local volunteers buzzed from room to room tending to patients, Saria sat in the parlor tearing bed sheets into strips to use as bandages and dressings.
Suddenly, a litter was clumsily carried through the front door with Eugene following behind them. Upon hearing them enter, she rushed over to assist.
“What do we got here?” Saria asked.
“Gunshot wound to the right thigh, but-” Gene began.
Saria began hastily assessing the wound on the exposed thigh area.
“Saria-” Gene drummed.
“Looks like the femoral artery’s been severed-” Saria muttered to herself thinking out loud, not listening to Eugene.
“Saria,” Gene bellowed.
“Che cosa!? (What!?)” Saria replied sharply in Italian, looking at him expectantly.
“It ain’t gonna do any good.” he said pensively.
Saria cocked her head as she furrowed her eyebrows at him, waiting for him to elaborate.
“Il est mort. (He’s dead).” Gene clarified in French.
Saria stared at him, absorbing the information until it finally clicked. She looked at the soldier’s lifeless, pale face. She dropped her eyes to the floor, allowing a defeated sigh to leave her lips.
“Guess it was silly of me to think every soldier you bring here would still be alive.” she said quietly.
Eugene only blinked, keeping his attention on her.
Saria shook her head to reset her thoughts.
“Take him to the garden house out back so Chaplain Maloney can say a prayer over him.” Saria instructed, lazily gesturing to the hall leading to the back door of the house before walking into the kitchen.
“Yes, ma’am.” the two men replied as they carried the perished soldier down the main hallway towards the rear of the house.
Eugene waited in the foyer, glancing down the hall to make sure the stretcher made it out the back door before proceeding to the kitchen.
He leaned against the doorway waiting as Saria faced the cast iron wood-burning stove. She raised a kettle from the trivet (stove surface) and poured hot water into a teacup.
“What was his name?” Saria queried sipping her beverage with her back remaining to Eugene.
He cleared his throat, “Hoobler. Don Hoobler. Accidently shot himself with a Lugar he got off a German he picked off.” he dejectedly explained.
He saw her disappointedly shake her head, well aware she was contemplating the irony behind a soldier recklessly losing his life because of a foolish ‘trophy’ like a German Lugar.
“Comment as-tu été? (How have you been?)” Gene’s usual gravelly baritone voice carried over the room to her.
Saria remained quiet at first as she tried to piece together a response that wouldn’t raise concern.
“Keeping busy,” she replied plainly. “Et toi? (And you?)”
“Same.”
“Tea?” Saria offered after a long pause.
“No thanks.” Eugene declined kindly.
“We have coffee.” she extended as she looked over her shoulder.
A faint smile graced Eugene’s face.
“Coffee would be nice, merci.” he professed as he crossed the threshold to sit at a two-seater kitchen table.
Saria occupied herself preparing the coffee grounds and coffee press. Eugene surveyed her bustling around the kitchen, trying to get a feel for how his friend really was feeling since she was being very vague and evasive. He noticed she seemed to be very adamant about keeping her back to him. But he sat there waiting patiently while she kept herself busy with the coffee.
Saria placed the packed coffee press onto the stove trivet, then stood by the counter where the kitchen window viewed out to the garden. Her eyes coincidently caught Chaplain Maloney walking into the garden cottage. She quickly averted her eyes to her hands fiddling with a spoon on the countertop.
Eugene observed her carefully, his heart progressively filling with concern.
“There’s another chair here,” he pointed out, but she didn’t budge.
“Asseyez-vous et parlez avec moi, mon ami (Sit and talk with me, my friend).” he beseeched.
Saria audibly sighed. Eugene got up and walked to the other chair sliding it out from under the table, inviting her to have a seat.
“S'il te plaît? (Please?)” he gently implored with a feeble smile.
She looked at the chair, then at Eugene. She sauntered to the table and lowered herself onto the chair as he pushed it under her. He walked over to the counter, grabbed a teacup, then went to the stove to pour himself fresh coffee from the press.
He turned slowly towards Saria as he took his first sip. She sat gaping at the floor, lost in her thoughts. His soul ached for his mourning companion.
“Saria-” Gene began, but she remained stoic, only closing her eyes so she didn’t have to look at him.
He walked to her, placed the cup on the table then squatted in front of her to look her in the face.
“Rosaria,” he asserted sternly, refusing to let her avoid him any longer. “-regardez-moi. S'il te plaît. (-look at me. Please).”
Saria met Eugene’s troubled expression with empty bloodshot eyes, as they began to gloss over, filling to the brim with tears until droplets started to cascade down her cheeks. He studied her face for a few seconds longer, searching for any inkling of hope. He found none.
“My French is getting rusty...” she whispered as her voice cracked from choking down the urge to sob.
Eugene’s eyebrows drew inward, shaking his head trying to comprehend why she said what she said.
“I haven’t-” she struggled to continue as she repeatedly blinked hoping to keep the tears from spilling over anymore, “-I haven’t been practicing my French. I’m losing everything she taught me.”
She hung her head, ashamed she had possibly dishonored Renée’s memory by forgetting the French she worked so diligently on with her.
Gene nodded, “I see,” he discerned compassionately, now realizing where the root of Saria’s pain was coming from.
He searched within himself for the comforting words he could say to console her, but even he was still in a state of lament over Renée’s death.
He looked back at Saria, “So, everything I had said to you in French since I got here-”
Saria looked at him hesitantly, waiting for him to finish.
“How much of it did you catch?” he questioned with a impish smirk gradually appearing on his face.
Saria forced out another long exhale, “Enough for you to get me in the chair, I suppose.” she fleetingly jested.
Eugene chuckled, which prompted Saria to briefly giggle as well. Eugene returned to his chair to finish the rest of his coffee. After a minute or so of subdued laughter, there was a deafening hush in the room as they sat in silence together.
“Honestly, I haven’t been practicing my French because I’ve been waiting to practice with someone I'm comfortable with.” Saria proclaimed.
“Yeah?” Gene returned genuinely intrigued.
“Mmhm,” she replied. “Could you-”
Eugene raised his eyebrows waiting for her to finish.
“Pourriez-vous...um...” Saria attempted to rephrase her question in the little French she could remember. “-m'aider... avec mon français ? S'il te plaît? (Could you...um...help me... with my French? Please?)”
Eugene’s smile widened as he leaned forward, sliding his arms across the table with his palms open, inviting her hands to hold his. Saria obliged, bringing her hands up from her lap, placing them in his.
“Bien sûr. (Of course).” he responded as he affectionately caressed her knuckles with his thumbs.
Saria smiled awkwardly, pushing down the heightened feeling of butterflies in her stomach.
~~~~~~~
January 4, 1945
“Bonjour, Rosaria.” a warm familiar voice greeted.
Saria emerged from behind the bar to see Eugene standing under the oak archway leading into the parlor.
“Eugène! Je suis tellement content de vous voir! (Eugene! So glad to see you)!” Saria exclaimed.
Eugene revered at her as she met him under the archway.
“What?’ she asked with a playful look of skepticism.
“Your French. C'est déjà bien mieux. (It’s already much better).” he commended.
“Oh-” Saria’s breath hitched, “-merci à toi (-thanks to you).”
“De rien, mon ami (You’re welcome, my friend).”
Eugene leaned against the oak pillar of the arch while Saria self-consciously rocked back and forth on her feet with her hands folded tightly behind her back.
“Renée would be proud.” Eugene stated, raising his eyes to Saria’s.
Saria drew in a deep breath when her eyes met his. He couldn’t help but adoringly gaze upon her while a soft smile stretched across his face.
“Hm,” Saria hummed, “-yeah.”
She forced a meager smile then looked at the floor.
“So, I got some news,” Gene declared, “They’re trying to push into Foy in a couple of days.”
Saria cast him a look of panic, “You’re leaving?” she asked, trying to suppress the concern in her voice.
“That’s the plan.” he replied plainly.
Saria’s eyes darted around the room while her heart rate steadily increased.
“But-” she began.
Eugene stared at her, waiting for her to continue her sentence. Words failed her as she stood there in front of him with her eyebrow’s furrowed and the worry lines intensifying in her forehead.
“But?” Eugene pushed.
Saria refocused on him, “You can’t leave me here. Alone.”
“You won’t be alone, mon ami.” he assured.
“Comment ça? (How so?)” she retorted raising an eyebrow at him.
Eugene chuckled, “You have all these people here that work with you, the locals-”
“Please don't.” Saria interjected.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t list off other people for me as if you’re expendable.” she mandated.
He curiously cocked his head at her.
“Because you’re irreplaceable to me.” she confessed without hesitation.
Saria was a wreck under the surface. Racing thoughts of losing the only best friend she had left, let alone what she just admitted, had her chest painfully heaving from anxiety. Gene watched her meander to the nearest lounge chair to sit before she passed out.
He snickered to himself before he strolled over to her. He briefly stood over her, then squatted next to her chair resting his elbow on the armrest. He weaved his fingers between hers, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze while his thumb tenderly kneaded over hers.
“I don't like it anymore than you do, mon cher (my dear),” he began, “-but this is why we’re here. It’s what we gotta do.”
“I know.” she grumbled looking down at their hands intertwined on her lap.
“Please come see me before you go?” she said as she looked up at him imploringly.
“Bien sûr ma chère (Of course, my dear).” he promised.
~~~~~~~
January 5, 1945
Eugene unfortunately didn’t have time to visit Saria before advancing deeper into Bois Jacques woods right outside of Foy.
“TAKE COVER!” Sgt Carwood Lipton yelled out to Easy Company.
German artillery fired onto Easy Company from the town as Easy soldiers scattered to the nearest foxholes to take cover. Blasts coming from all directions causing trees to fall and dirt to fly made it difficult for the men to navigate safe passages to their holes.
After a brief break from German attacks, Sgt Bill Guarnere answered the pleas for help from a wounded Joe Toye after an explosion took his right leg off. While Guarnere did his best to drag Toye back to safety, another German shell made contact near them during the second wave of attacks, severely wounding Guarnere’s leg as well.
After the chaos settled, the Commanding Officer, LT Buck Compton, staggered over to Toye and Guarnere lying motionless on the ground. As he approached, the aftershock rendered him speechless, leaving him unable to find his voice at first to call for help.
“MEDIC!” he finally managed to cry out.
Doc Roe came hoofing through, landing on his knees next to Toye getting to work on what was left of his leg. Off to the side was Guarnere leaning against a tree.
“Just hang tight, Bill, I’ll get to ya as soon as I’m done with Toye over 'ere.” Gene told Guarnere as he quickly packed Toye’s thigh with dressing to absorb the blood.
“Do whatchya gotta do, Doc.” Bill replied.
Just then, another medic appeared at Guarnere’s side, already getting a tourniquet out. Gene caught sight of the new guy, unaware there was another medic available to Easy Company. This man worked briskly, effortlessly placing the tourniquet and swiftly dashing sulfur then wrapping the wound with bandages to stop the bleeding.
“Hey, buddy, when you’re done over there can you help me with this?” Gene requested.
Nothing prepared him for what happened next. A voice of a woman responded.
“Be right there, pal.”
Gene looked over at her, perplexed that this was in fact a woman working out here next to him. As he continued handling Toye, she scampered over to him kneeling at his side.
“What do you need me to do?”
He looked up to see it was Saria. He stared at her in utter disbelief, almost forgetting he was caring for Toye.
“Saria? What the hell are ya doin' out here!?” Gene asked shocked, but mostly perturbed.
“I’ll explain later, tell me what you need me to do.” Saria countered urgently.
“Hold this.” Gene begrudgingly instructed her to hold Toye’s thigh up so he could use both hands to wrap.
Two men rushed in with a stretcher.
“Bill, you go first.”
“Whatever you say, Doc.” Bill replied.
“Over here. Take this man.” Gene ordered pointing at Guarnere.
~~~~~~~
January 7, 1945
There was hardly a chance for Eugene to sit and revisit why Saria was there after they prepared Toye for transport. The next few days the 506th had cleared the West and East side of the woods, which temporarily allowed little resistance from the Germans.
Saria sat in the foxhole she dug for herself, restocking her carrier bag. Eugene peered over the edge to look in.
“Rosaria.” He greeted her dryly.
She looked up at him, “Well hi, Eugene.” she chirped.
He jumped into the foxhole landing on both feet then sat in the dirt next to her.
“Mind telling me how the hell you ended up out here?” he suggested in a parent-like tone.
“I was reassigned to Easy Company per the request of LT Dike. Before his final leave of absence, that is." she explained.
“LT Dike? He was never around. How would anyone get his signature to approve your orders to get assigned to us if nobody could ever find him?” Gene rationalized.
Saria revealed a mischievous grin, “Nobody can confirm nor deny that my orders are legit if the CO is never available to say otherwise.”
Eugene wasn’t amused, “You forged orders to get assigned to Easy Company??”
Saria looked at her boots.
“Pourquoi?? (Why??)”
“Eugene, I couldn’t stay in Bastogne any longer. It only reminds me of Renée and Anna. Then you were going to leave, so-” she trailed off, not really knowing what else to say.
Eugene released a frustrated huff, shaking his head disapprovingly.
“Tu vas être ma mort (You’re going to be the death of me).” he growled to himself.
Saria did her best to push back a snicker, knowing Gene was genuinely disappointed with her for committing such an act of dishonesty. When a scoff escaped through her nose, he shot her an exasperated side-eye.
"You think this is ok? Rosaria, it’s dangerous out here.” his tone low and disgruntled.
“Eugene, please spare me the lecture. You don’t think I’ve seen how dangerous it can get out here? I’ve seen more wounded men than I can count at that church that came from out here. I know it’s no walk in the park.” she proclaimed.
He forced another annoyed breath, then rubbed his tired eyes with his forefinger and thumb.
“You’re stuck with me, now, so there’s no use in arguing about it.” she added.
“Yeah, you got that right.” Gene retorted.
“Don’t act like you’re not glad to have me here. You guys needed another medic anyway-”
“That wasn’t for you to decide!” Gene snapped with resentment behind his eyes.
Saria looked away from him, unable to stomach how angry her best friend was with her. Eugene ran his hand roughly through his hair, immediately regretting raising his voice to her. He shifted to face her.
“I am glad to have you here,” he started, “-but you don’t understand that you out here with me is a distraction.”
Saria looked back at him inquisitively.
He shifted again, “If the Germans rain hell on us again, and they will, I’m gonna be worryin’ more about you the whole time.” he explained.
Saria’s eyes dropped to the ground beneath her heels, feeling ashamed she hadn’t considered his perspective.
“Ya get what I mean, Mon cher?” he asked her softly, tilting his head to glimpse into her eyes.
“Oui.” she uttered as she shivered from the cold.
Eugene looked her over, “Venez ici (Come here).” he directed as he scooted closer to her, snaking his arm across her shoulders to pull her into him.
Saria rested her cheek on his chest, nestling into him as he pulled a wool blanket over them.
“Good?” he questioned.
Saria nodded, “Grazie, Eugenio (Thank you, Eugene).” She said in Italian before drifting off to sleep.
Eugene pulled her in tighter, daring to kiss the top of her head before whispering a prayer over her:
“Je te compterai parmi mes brebis préférées et tu auras la protection de tous les anges du ciel (I will count thee among my favoured sheep, and you shall have the protection of all the Angels in Heaven)…
…with all my heart.”
~~~~~~~
#band of brothers#ww2#eugene roe#doc roe#shane taylor#easy company#101st airborne#hbo war#eugene roe imagine#eugene roe imagines#eugene roe x oc#with all my heart
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Reunion pt2
MASTERLIST
BAND OF BROTHERS MASTERLIST
PART 1
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The days melded into nights amid the relentless chaos of the battlefield, each moment fraught with tension and uncertainty. For Eugene 'Doc' Roe, the memory of Y/n lingered like a beacon of hope amidst the darkness of war.
Once a distant acquaintance from high school, she was constantly on his mind, a reminder of a world beyond the brutality they faced daily.
His comrades began to notice his preoccupation, especially Edward 'Babe' Heffron, who settled beside him in the foxhole one evening, concern etched in his features.
"You've been quieter than usual, Roe. What's eating at you?" Babe prodded, his tone gentle yet insistent.
Roe hesitated, torn between the weight of his thoughts and the instinct to keep them hidden.
But as Babe persisted, the words spilled out almost involuntarily. "I ran into an old school friend at the hospital," he confessed, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
"She's a medic for Dog Company." Babe's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Well, well, well, looks like Roe's been holding out on us," he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Roe's anxiety surged. "Keep it down, Babe! This is serious," he urged, a sense of urgency in his tone. "Her name's Y/n," he added, the weight of his secret finally lifted off his shoulders.
Babe held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, lips are sealed," he promised, understanding the gravity of the situation.
They fell into a companionable silence, mindful of the need for sound discipline in their company.
" wow - Y/N huh? she must be some dame!" Babe joked, elbowing Eugene, both trying to stop shivering.
" she was somethin'" Eugene drawled, looking up into the night sky.
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Months later, the Easy Company boys found themselves in Austria, the war in Europe over, but the battle in the Pacific still raging.
After being informed by Speirs that Easy Company would be deployed into the Pacific, morale was shattered once again.
"We will be training for war at 06:00," Speirs announced solemnly.
Eugene turned his head slightly, catching sight of someone he never thought he'd see again, Y/n , standing at the end of the platoon line. He felt a mix of emotions—relief to see her, yet sickened at the thought of her joining them in the Pacific.
"Eugene," she hummed, walking through the dispersing men.
"Y/n, what are you doing here?" Roe asked, his voice filled with concern.
"It's the end of the war in Europe, Gene. Pretty sure half the US Army is here-," she replied with a small smile.
She sighed after seeing his face contort into a sour expression, "I didn't have enough points to go home, so I asked for a transfer."
Roe pulled back slightly, his hands gently placed on her shoulders as he looked into her eyes, searching for any trace of doubt or fear. But all he found was unwavering strength and determination mirrored back at him.
"I was worried sick when I heard about the hospital bombing back in Bastogne," he admitted, squinting in the sunlight.
Y/n nodded, her gaze steady. "It was rough, but we were out in the field when it happened," she explained, a hint of sorrow in her voice. "A few good men got caught up in it all."
As they stood together, a sense of peace settled over them, a brief respite before they were thrown back into war again.
Then, some of the Easy boys clocked the two of them, shuffling over quickly. The group included Edward Babe Heffron, George Luz, Perconte, Joe Liebgott, and Webster.
Babe's eyes widened in realization as he approached, a grin spreading across his face. "Well, well, well, who do we have here? You gonna introduce us, Doc?" he exclaimed, nudging his comrades with an elbow.
"Roe's been keeping this one locked away, ain't he?" George spoke up, grinning at the two of them.
"What's this, Roe? Found yourself a sweetheart?" Perconte teased, a hint of humor in his voice.
Roe's cheeks flushed slightly as he exchanged a sheepish glance with Y/n. "Uh, guys, this is Y/n. She's the medic for Dog Company," he introduced, a note of warmth in his tone. "She's transferred to Easy now - she's gonna be jumping with us."
Babe stepped forward, extending his hand to Y/n with a grin. "I'm Babe Heffron, pleasure to meet you. Any friend of Roe's is a friend of ours," he said warmly, his easygoing demeanor putting Y/n at ease.
Y/n returned the handshake, a smile playing at her lips. "Nice to meet you all," she greeted, her voice laced with genuine warmth.
"Dog company, huh? You must know our captain, Speirs?" Joe Liebgott asked, curiosity evident in his tone.
Y/n chuckled, nodding her head. "Oh yeah, good ol' Speirs. Terrifying, isn't he?" she joked, a playful glint in her eyes. "But a damn good captain. We were all sorry to lose him to you Easy boys. - I'm glad to be in his company again for this, I'll tell you that much!"
The boys laughed at her remark. "Hey, we're on our way to play a little baseball - why don't you join us? Seeing as you're the newest medic for Easy!"
She agreed, letting the boys lead the way, while Roe lingered behind, slyly linking his arm with hers as they walked towards the baseball field.
The baseball game was in full swing, and for some, including Y/n, it was the first time they had genuinely smiled in months. They pushed the thought of jumping into the Pacific to the backs of their heads and tried to revel in the last moments of peace.
It was Roe's turn to hit the ball, and Perconte pitched. Roe swung with all his might, sending the ball soaring into the distance. Compton caught it and threw it directly to Y/n, who stood at the base Roe was running to.
"You're out, Medic man," she smirked as she caught the ball.
Roe stood up, a playful glint in his eye that even the Easy boys hadn't seen before. The two got up from the ground together, and Y/n felt her breath hitch as he took a step towards her.
"Na-a-a, get back, Mr.," she smirked, gently pushing at his chest, laughing slightly.
Just then, Winter and Nixon walked over with news, standing next to Speirs who called out to Easy to form a school circle. "Listen up - We've got some news," Winter said calmly. "This morning, President Truman received the unconditional surrender from the Japanese."
"The war is over,"
As soon as the words left Winter's mouth, the impact of the news reverberated through the gathered soldiers. Y/n's hand flew to her mouth in shock before instinctively reaching for Eugene's, seeking reassurance amidst the whirlwind of emotions.
She turned her head immediately to look at him, her eyes searching his face for confirmation, for solace.
Eugene, like the rest of them, wore a mixture of disbelief and relief etched into his features, the weight of years of hardship and sacrifice momentarily lifted from his shoulders.
As the words sank in, a wave of euphoria washed over the group. Some of the boys couldn't contain their joy any longer, and they erupted into cheers and whoops, their jubilant voices cutting through the tension that had lingered for so long.
Smiles broke out across faces that had grown accustomed to weariness and sorrow, and hugs were exchanged between comrades who had fought side by side through the darkest of days.
Caught up in the elation of the moment, Eugene acted on pure instinct. Without thinking, he swept Y/n up into his arms, her laughter ringing out like music amidst the cacophony of celebration. He spun her around in a full circle, the sheer relief and joy of the moment coursing through his veins like wildfire.
As they laughed together, he couldn't resist the overwhelming urge to kiss her.
Their passionate kiss elicited a few hoots and hollers from the surrounding men, the sound of their laughter serving as a backdrop to the intimate moment shared between her and Eugene.
In that fleeting instant, amidst the jubilation and the chaos, they found solace in each other's arms, a silent acknowledgment of all they had endured and all they had overcome.
"The war is over," Y/n whispered breathlessly as they finally broke apart, her voice filled with disbelief and wonder. And in that moment, standing amidst the jubilant throng of soldiers, Eugene knew that no matter what the future held, as long as they were together, they could weather any storm.
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Tagged : @she-wolf09231982
#band of brothers imagines#hbo war#band of brothers#Eugene doc roe#eugene roe#eugene roe imagine#band of brothers masterlist#hbowar
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Cleaning Up | Eugene Roe x m!reader
@satan-incarnate-666 asked: “You do make me laugh” same as above
summary: it's been so long, and he's constantly been on your mind, but at least you end up finding him again.
tws: nudity (nonsexual), swearing, mentions of blood and excrement, smoking
support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy
Roe was always on your mind; you could never forget his face or his voice or the way he smelled. Every town and every derelict village you and your regiment passed through, there was always something that made you think of him.
You wrote to him every day, always detailing what had reminded him of you and how; you never expected him to reply, but you sometimes got a response from him. Every night, you could still feel his arms around you, holding you tightly the way he used to when you were at base; even when you were sweating and you were too hot to sleep, you could still feel him holding onto you.
With each passing day, with each village and town you passed through, you could feel him getting closer; by the time you arrived at the camp that Easy Company had made, you were more than excited.
The second you heard his voice, you perked up, and ran off without saying a single word; dropping your pack on the way, letting your rifle clatter to the ground, tossing your helmet to the floor before you crashed right into him, howling his name and hugging him tightly.
Roe couldn’t help it, laughing softly as he held onto you and did his best not to cry; he didn’t think he would ever see you again, he didn’t think he would ever feel you hold him again.
Even if he did dream of it every night, and even if he could have sworn that you kept coming into his dreams and telling him that you wouldn’t be long, you would see him again. He had gotten every letter that you had sent, although they arrived days apart.
He wanted to cry, so fucking happy and so fucking relieved to see you again that he couldn’t cope with it.
Overwhelmed so terribly that all he could do was cling onto you, the fabric of your shirt bunched up into his hands at the back of your shoulders; he pressed his face against the side of your neck, not caring that your sweat dripped onto him and stained his skin.
He was just too fucking happy to see you again, to know that you were alive and that his dreams had all come true - you had come back, you had found him.
Amongst everything else, you had fucking found him again.
You pulled away, cupping his face in your hands as you grinned, using your pads of your thumbs to wipe away the tears he didn’t realise he had shed. “Oh, Eugene…”
“Hi,” he whispered. “You, uh, you look good.”
You shook your head, licking your lips as you dared to laugh softly. “Are you joking? I stink, I’m greasy and dirty and sweaty. I’m gross and sticky.”
“Still,” Roe murmured, shaking his head. “You look good.”
“You look better,” you told him, daring to kiss his cheek. “Did you get my letters?”
He nodded. “Every single one. I couldn’t reply.”
“You got them, though,” you whispered. “That’s what matters - and you didn’t write me a Dear John, either.”
Roe shook his head, looking almost offended that you would ever think he would do such a thing. “Never.”
“I missed you,” you breathed out, gently tracing his jaw. “I really did.”
He smiled, putting his arm around your shoulders. “There’s a river nearby… if you’re wounded, I can look at it.”
You didn’t need to say anything as you let him take you there; it was through some woodland nearby, just a short walk from the camp. No one would go looking for you, everyone had seen your reaction to seeing Roe again. It was obvious that you had simply gone off with him again, so no one batted an eye.
But while you stripped off and practically dived into the murky olive waters, Roe sat on the bank, guarding your clothes as he smoked a cigarette and watched you; he couldn’t help but to laugh when you gasped loudly at how cold the water was.
“You do make me laugh,” he said fondly. He had missed that, the way you made him laugh.
“It’s fucking cold!” You howled. “Freezing!”
“I’m not joining you,” Roe told you, shaking his head.
But you flashed him a pleading look, and he couldn’t resist it, flicking his cigarette aside before stripping down and folding his things beside yours. He didn’t notice that his boots had fallen slightly, leaning on yours; he thought you were joking about the water until he got waist deep, flinching and jumping slightly as he shivered.
“What was that about not joining me?” You joked with a raised brow.
Roe scoffed, shaking his head as he ducked his head under the olive waters; he scrubbed out a little bit of dirt from his hair, and brought his head back up. He wasn’t expecting it when you kissed him softly, but he didn’t mind either.
“Shut up,” he said softly, stealing another short kiss. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” you told him softly. “I wish we’d have met when I wasn’t so fucking gross and sweaty.”
Roe shrugged, shaking his head as he dared to laugh softly. “You’re the cleanest guy I’ve seen in weeks, and you’re not bleeding all over me so… I don’t mind it.”
It was true, in the time that you had been apart, Roe had seen so much worse than you; soldiers with limbs hanging off, their jaws only just clinging on by threads of thin flesh. He had seen soldiers bleed out, staining his uniform; he had seen soldiers coated in thick mud as well as their own guts.
Soldiers caked in shit where they had fallen into pits dug out for it. Soldiers coated in thick clay and mud for days on end when there was no water sources to bathe in and no soap. He had seen and smelled so much worse.
By his standards, you were pretty clean, so he didn’t really mind.
Besides, he was just happy to see you again. Sweating and dirty or not.
#mlem writes#eugene roe x reader#eugene roe fanfic#eugene roe imagine#eugene roe#doc roe x reader#doc roe fanfic#doc roe imagine#doc roe#band of brothers x reader#band of brothers fanfiction#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers fic#band of brothers imagine#band of brothers#easy company x reader#easy company imagine#easy company fanfiction#easy company fanfic#easy company
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C'est Toi
Eugene Roe x Medic!Reader (Soulmate AU)
Masterlist
A/N: Hiiii @issiie / @cetaitlaverite !! Sorry again for the delay! This is the last gift from me, and I hope you've enjoyed them so far. I'm excited to release this fic! It is my first attempt at a soulmate au, so bear with me! I do not own any of these characters except for (y/n). Enjoy!
Summary: People never know when they'll meet their soulmate, but (y/n) would have never thought she'd meet hers in a hot, humid town in Georgia.
Warnings: mentions of wounds, blood, death, etc...
For as long as she could remember, (y/n) (y/l/n) wondered if she had already met her soulmate. The small mark above her hip was a constant reminder of what, more like who, who was yet to come into her life. As she grew up, she always looked out for the matching mark on every boy she went out with, but soon grew tired of the chase, deciding that it would happen at the right time.
Before the "right time" could come, the world descended into war, and (y/n) enlisted, wanting to serve her country like the rest of the men in the military. After a rough time of convincing generals and higher-ups in the army, she was granted permission to be a combat medic in the 101st Airborne, Easy Company.
Basic was hard, but she made it through Sobel, even though he had it out for her especially. One thing that got her through the long runs up Currahee and the long lectures was her fellow medic, Eugene Roe. The Cajun was shy at first, but (y/n) soon brought him out of his shell when she started talking about the family she left behind. From then on, they were inseparable. You would rarely find one without the other, and if you did, you knew that they would make their appearance soon.
Before they knew it, it was the night of June 5th, hours before the "Day of Days" they trained for would begin.
June 6th, 1944
After getting all geared up for the jump, (y/n) made her way over to where Eugene was making sure everyone in his platoon had enough bandages in their personal aid kits. Her stomach was buzzing with uncertainty and a twinge of fear as she waited for him to finish.
"Salut, ma chérie," he called to her, a smile painting his face. She could tell it didn't quite meet his eyes, though.
"Hey, Gene." She took a deep breath as she approached him. "Are you ready for this? Cause I don't know if I a-"
He gently placed his hands on her arms, squeezing softly to stop her rambling. "You've got this, (y/n/n). Don' worry, okay? We're gonna be fine."
At his touch, a warmth spread through her body, and she could feel a blush creep up her face. He was her best friend, so why was she freaking out at a simple touch from him?
Pushing through the feeling, a defeated sigh escaped her lips as she muttered toward the ground. "Promise me you'll be careful. Please."
He moved his hands to cup her cheeks, his soft browns peering into her (y/e/c) ones. "I promise, ma chérie. You too."
Feeling the heat from his breath on her skin, she glanced down at his lips before catching herself after a split second.
"Alright, Doc," she whispered, reluctantly stepping back. "I'll see you in France."
With a solemn expression, he nodded, scanning her face as if it was the last time he would see her, heart racing. Just before she turned away, he caught her wrist gently, pulling her into a tight embrace, burying his head into the crook of her neck.
When he finally pulled away, Eugene turned and walked towards his plane, knowing that if he turned back, he wouldn't be able to leave her. Doing the same, (y/n) took a deep breath, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. They would see each other again. They had to.
The unsettled feeling in (y/n)'s stomach didn't settle. Not even when she found Floyd Talbert on the way to the rally point. Not even when she linked up with most of the company at the designated point.
Only did the feeling subside when she laid eyes on a very exhausted-looking Eugene Roe. Along with this feeling, an invisible weight lifted off her shoulders as she saw him patching up a soldier in the distance.
"Gene," she whispered under her breath before running toward him.
The man he was helping started to limp slowly over to the aid station, and Gene stood up, taking a deep breath.
When she called his name again, his head shot up, and a smile instantly formed on his grimy face when he saw her. He met her halfway, throwing his arms around her middle, and pressed his cheek against her hair with a sigh.
"Je remercie le Seigneur," he murmured, "Thank you."
At that moment, Gene was more content than he had ever been before. She was living and breathing. That's all he'd asked for.
The time they were separated, though only hours, he felt like his heart was unable to beat properly until he saw her again. Throughout his journey through the forest of Normandy, the image of her smiling face kept him going, along with the hope he was going to see it again soon.
Pulling away, Gene cupped her face gently, searching her face for injuries. "Are you alrigh'? Are ya' hurt?"
"I'm okay, Gene," she mumbled, placing her hands over his. "I'm okay.
Tension thickened the air, and his heart began to beat out of his chest as she looked up at him with the most beautiful face he'd ever seen. In a split-second decision, he chose to finally tell her how he felt.
"Listen, I need to-"
"Medic!" he was interrupted.
(Y/n) nodded in the call's direction. "Go."
Scanning her face one more time, he ran toward the cry for help, already missing (y/n)'s warmth.
As she watched him go, she tried to calm her racing heart. He was alive. Gene was alive.
The next few days after D-Day, they were ordered to take the town of Carentan. Supposedly, there was a company of German paratroopers holding the city, but no one knew for certain what they were walking into.
Gene and (y/n) were at the back of the formation of Easy as they waited over a hill on the road to Carentan. They watched Lieutenant Winters speak to Harry Welsh before giving the signal to go.
Nodding to each other, they began to run toward the town. Within seconds of the company moving in, a cry in German could be heard, followed by the dreaded sound of machine-gun fire. (Y/n) watched in horror as some of the men beside her were gunned down easily.
"In the ditch!" Winters yelled over the chaos.
Not hearing the order, (y/n) kept on running with the surviving men of 1st platoon into Carentan.
Gene's heart dropped seeing her sprint into the onslaught of bullets.
"(Y/n)!" He yelled, but she didn't hear him.
Dust sprung from the ground before her as she barely made it to cover with Harry and George Luz. Slamming into the concrete building beside them, Welsh looked behind them, realizing the rest of the company was nowhere to be found.
"Where is everybody?" He shouted as Luz shoot a few times around the side of their cover.
Taking cover, George hid behind the wall momentarily. "I have no idea!"
During this interaction, (y/n) was scanning their surroundings, trying to find any indication of where everyone was, especially Gene. At this point, her eyes were trained to find the bright white and red armband they wore, but she saw no trace of it.
'He'll be okay,' she told herself. 'He'll be okay.'
In less than a minute, the rest of Easy began swarming into the town, and that's when the first cry for a medic could be heard.
"Medic up!"
Saying a silent prayer, (y/n) took a deep breath and ran out into the chaos. Bullets whizzed by her as she found the injured man in an alleyway.
"Help me, Doc! It's my arm!" the soldier yelled when she slid down beside him.
"I've got ya, sweetheart. You're gonna be okay."
She pulled out her bag and sprinkled sulfa on the wound, bandaging it up the best she could. Once she was done, she asked the man if he could stand.
"I think so, ma'am."
"Good," she responded. "Go back toward our infill point and take cover there."
Just as the words left her mouth, another yell for a medic could be heard. Within two seconds, she was on her feet, making her way toward the next injured man.
"This is going to be a long and hard day."
A good bit into the battle, Gene had treated many men but was yet to see his (y/h/c) counterpart darting through the streets of Carentan. This could have been attributed to the fact that the town was like a maze, different streets and alleyways made it hard to navigate it, even though it wasn't that large.
Taking cover in an old bakery, Gene glanced to his right to see Shifty Powers aiming his rifle at what he suspected to be a sniper. After he was done shooting for a moment, Roe called out to him.
"Powers. You seen (y/l/n)?"
He had to think for a second but nodded a few seconds later. "Yeah. I saw her helping someone with a shoulder wound not too long ago."
"Alright. Thanks," Gene responded, brows furrowing in concern.
'Where is she, now?' He thought, watching as men flew by the entrance of the bakery.
"Medic!"
Like always, (y/n) went flying toward the sound, disregarding the danger she was putting herself in. Halfway there, she heard the desperate voice of Lip echo through the street.
"Move, move, move!" He yelled, motioning for them to take cover.
With a curse, (y/n) continued toward the injured man 10 feet in front of her. Before she could make it there, she heard the distinct whistle of an incoming shell, and the next thing she knew, she was thrown backward from its impact.
The breath was knocked from her lungs by the force of the explosion. Frozen, she tried to speak, but nothing came out but strangled gasps.
She vaguely heard someone call her name, but all she could focus on was the violent buzzing in her ears and a burning sensation spreading through her stomach. Trying to lean up on her elbows, she yelped at a sharp pain in her abdomen and fell back on the hard ground, hand flying to the area. When she pulled it away, it was coated in crimson.
"I'm h-hit," she whispered to no one in particular. "I ca-can't b-bre-breathe"
Suddenly, a body slid next to hers, their hands hovering over her.
"(Y/n)! Oh mon Dieu."
Gene. It was Eugene. Even though he was sick to his stomach, he pushed it aside and went into medic mode. She wasn't just another wounded soldier, but right then, he had to treat her as one.
"Ge-Gene?"
"Yeah, it's me, chérie. I've got ya. Hold on."
He hooked his hands under her armpits, pulling her toward a nearby building.
"Come on, sweetheart. I got ya."
Whimpers escaped her mouth as he jostled the wound when they moved. Just when they got around cover, Harry Welsh came sprinting around the corner, hand holding his helmet to his head. At the sight before him, his heart dropped. Everyone knew how close the two of them were.
"Doc, do you need help?"
"No," he responded, lifting her shirt to get a look at the wound. "Tell Spina what happened."
With a reluctant nod, Harry raised his rifle and went to find Ralph. Gene glanced at (y/n)'s face, which was covered in scratches and scrunched up in pain, and quickly gave her a morphine shot to the shoulder. Seeing her visibly relax, he felt a slight relief as well.
"You're alright, chérie. You're alright," he whispered, cupping her cheek gently.
"Thans', Ge," she slurred, eyes fluttering shut from the morphine.
He quickly got out a bandage and started to clean the wound, which he discovered was from a two-inch piece of shrapnel that was embedded in her abdomen. Sprinkling sulfa on the area, Gene froze when he saw a discolored area just above her hip.
Shaking the feeling away, he finished bandaging her up before wiping the area in question clean of any blood.
The shape of the mark was instantly recognizable. It was a mirror image of the one on his hip.
If they had matching marks, it could only mean one thing. His eyes widened at the realization.
They were soulmates.
"C'est Toi," he muttered under his breath. "It's you."
The young man's heart began to race at the thought, and all the feelings for her he'd suppressed since Toccoa came bubbling back to the surface.
He was pulled from his stupor by the voice of Spina.
"She alright?"
Gene cleared his throat, "Yea', she took shrapnel to the stomach, but it's out now. She'll have to come off the line."
"Shame. I know we really need her out here with us."
Glancing back down at her, he smiled. "You have no idea how much."
Before long, they carefully loaded (y/n) onto a stretcher, and she was sent to the aid station. When she woke up, a familiar head of dark hair was resting on the side of the bed, his hand intertwined with hers.
Deciding to let him sleep, she watched him silently. Nowadays, a solemn look occupied his handsome face most of the time, so she loved seeing the carefree version of him.
"Glad to see you're awake," whispered Lip, who was laying on the cot beside her.
"Me too. What happened to you?"
"Mortar," he replied matter-of-factly.
"Ah, I'm sorry, Car."
He smiled softly, "Thank you. You too, (y/n). I know he'll miss you."
"I'll miss him just as much," she replied, running her free hand through Eugene's hair.
Shooting up at the action, he grinned at her sleepily, asking. "Hey, chérie. How are you feelin'?"
"Sore, but I'll be okay...What happened after I fell asleep?"(Y/n) paused. "I don't remember much."
Not expecting the question, Gene about choked on nothing just thinking about his life-altering discovery. "I just patched ya' up and brought you here."
Although he was the one who brought her to the aid station, seeing her all bruised and bandaged suddenly made the situation real. He could have lost her. Tears glistened in his eyes, and he dropped his chin.
"I'm so glad you're alright. I don't know what I'd do without you, (y/n). I mean it. When I saw you laying there...I had to-"
"Stop," she interrupted. "You're not gonna lose me...and I don't know what I'd do without you, either."
"Who else would patch you up?" He joked, rubbing her hand softly with his thumb.
(Y/n) chuckled lightly at the joke, followed by a wince. "Please don't make me laugh."
"Sorry, darlin', my jokes normally don't make anyone laugh."
Even though she tried to hold it in, a laugh escaped her lips, causing her to groan lowly. "Gene!"
"Sorry!"
They sat in silence for a few minutes until her eyes began to droop and she yawned. Eugene ran his hands through her hair gently, lulling her to sleep.
"Go to sleep, (y/n)," he whispered. "I'll be here when you wake up."
October 1945: Zel am See, Austria
Over the 8 months since Gene found out about (y/n)'s soulmate mark, he was tempted to tell her many times but decided against it.
Even though he wanted her to know how he felt, he was going to wait until the war was over. The last thing he wanted was for them to finally get confess, only for one of them to get killed.
When the Japanese surrendered in September, everyone was celebrating, but once everything settled down, they began thinking about home, more importantly, who they'd be coming home to. Gene had been thinking about telling (y/n) more and more each day, and it reached a boiling point in mid-October.
The Austrian landscapes around them were some of the most beautiful any of the men had ever seen, specifically, a lake with a perfect view of the Alps. This was where he was going to tell her how he felt; a place that was untouched by war.
That day, the company was finally having a rematch baseball game from V-J Day after George and Frank, who were on the losing team, pitched a fit about it not being a fair game. While the rest of the company was getting ready for the game, Gene approached (y/n)'s billet door.
Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.
Heavy footsteps came thumping down the hallway, followed by (y/n)'s aggravated voice.
"No, Frank. I'm not playing in the stupid ga-"
Opening the door, she froze mid-sentence when she saw the shy-looking Cajun.
Her heart skipped a beat at the sight, and a blush crept up her neck. "Gene! I thought you'd be playing in the game?"
He simply chuckled. "I'm not very good at baseball."
"Me neither," she started. "So, what brings you to my humble abode?"
"Since neither of us is playing, would you maybe want to go-"
"Yes," (y/n) interrupted. "Yes."
A smile broke out on his face. "Don't you want to know what I was gonna say?"
"Nope. Surprise me?"
"Sure."
"Alright. Close your eyes for me." Said Gene as they came up to the special place he'd found for them.
She listened and held her hands in front of her with a laugh. "Okay. Just don't let me run into anything, Eugene!"
"Don't worry. I've got ya, chérie," he said sweetly, taking her hands gently.
Arriving, he turned her toward the lake, sliding an arm around her shoulders. "Open."
(Y/n)'s eyes sprung open and widened at the view. "Gene, it's beautiful!"
"Do you like it?" He asked sheepishly.
(Y/n) turned to him with a surprised expression. "Of course I do. Thank you."
This was the moment.
Gene gently took her hands in his once again. "(Y/n)," he whispered. "I love you. And I kno-"
He was cut off by (y/n) pulling his face down to hers, crashing their lips together. As they pulled away, she chuckled breathily. "Do you know how long I've wanted to do that?"
The young man was beaming with happiness. "Just how long?" he questioned.
"Since I found out we were soulmates," she said, shrugging her shoulders with a grin.
Gene's eyes went wide. "Wait! You knew?"
"Since Toccoa."
"How?"
"I think you forget that you slept shirtless in Georgia."
Running a hand down his face, he sighed. "Of course. I'm an idiot."
"No, you're not," (y/n) paused. "And I love you, too."
#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers x reader#band of brothers imagines#band of brothers imagine#band of brothers#bandofbrothersedit#eugene roe imagine#eugene roe x reader#eugene roe#gene roe x reader#gene roe#doc roe x reader#wwii#historical fiction#band of brothers x you#hurt/comfort#hbowarsanta22#hbo war x reader#hbowar#hbo war#hbowardaily#hbo girls
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BoB Headcanon: Could They Fix A Broken Cabinet?
A/N: Here, pls enjoy another obscure headcanon set that Literally Nobody asked for lol. A big thank you to @mccall-muffin for encouraging me to post it lol 💖
✿ Dick Winters: Will not only fix your cabinet but also IMPROVE your cabinet. Enjoy your new soft-close, freshly-painted cabinet. 🤌🏽
✿ Lewis Nixon: Absolutely Not. Nix knows when he’s beat. He Was Not raised for this & he knows that. Will gladly call someone else to fix it though!
✿ Carwood Lipton: Definitely could fix it (he has the knowledge & the skills) but doesn't trust himself to do it because he's afraid he'll mess it up (🥺) so he'll pay someone else to do it.
✿ Ronald Speirs: He’ll fix it! Won’t make a big deal of it though. Honestly would probably not even tell you he’s fixed it; you just walk in one day & it’s Done & you’re like “When did you do that?” & he’s like “Oh like a week ago”.
✿ Harry Welsh: Bound & Determined to fix it if it kills him. He will read Every book, watch Every show, Welshy is a man on a mission 😂 He is going to be your knight in shining armor even if he has to toil away at it for days & ends up cussing the thing black + blue before it's complete.
✿ Buck Compton: Will give it the ol’ college try (lol) but no guarantees. Will do his reading but still ends up freestyling it. 😂 Definitely not above calling someone if his attempt goes awry tho lol
✿ Don Malarkey: Sort of? It may not be perfect– like the hinges will probably squeak when it opens & it might be a little crooked maybe – but he worked all day on it & it’s Technically fixed.
✿ Joe Liebgott: Is convinced that he can fix it but will actually just fuck it up even more & then duct tape over it. It might be functional but it Will Not be pretty. Probably accidentally hammered his thumb once. Pls appreciate his efforts tho, he is Trying.
✿ George Luz: Will fix your cabinet super well! It’s gonna be in tip-top shape… You’re just gonna have to remind him to do it tho lol bc he’s kind of all over the place! (Also he whistles while he works; it’s kind of adorable).
✿ Eugene Roe: I'd like to believe he could but my heart just says no. Lowkey, it would probably frustrate him all to hell bc he can perform life-saving medical feats in the heat of battle but he can't fix a goddamn cabinet?? He's gonna call someone to fix it for y'all but he's gonna be So pissed about it.
✿ Joe Toye: Can definitely fix it. Very handy around the house but his true expertise is in cars! He could be a mechanic if he really wanted to. King of explaining Why It Makes That Noise in simple terms that Make Sense 🤌🏼
✿ Bill Guarnere: He'll fix it but it won't be in the way you expect. He's the type of person to put a book under a table leg to steady it, that sort of thing. But he is WAY too stubborn to ask for help so don't expect him to call anybody who can actually do it. He'll INSIST on doing it himself– it's a matter of pride at this point.
✿ Skip Muck: No way, not a clue. Might try to fix it but gets distracted halfway through like a puppy & abandons the project forever lol.
✿ Bull Randleman: Oh absolutely he can. Man was practically raised with a toolbox in hand. He likes to do little things like that for you around the house because he likes to feel useful.
✿ Shifty Powers: Definitely can. But like Speirs ^, won’t make a big deal out of it. He has immaculate focus, a steady hand, & seemingly limitless patience so he can fix pretty much anything.
✿ Babe Heffron: Purely a duct-tape-&-a-prayer man. "We don't gotta call anybody, I got it covered." No, Babe, you do not 😆
✿ Johnny Martin: Could probably fix it if he actually put his mind to it but doesn't want to. He simply Does Not Have The Patience. He gets frustrated one time & he's Done. Calls someone by the end of the first day 😂
✿ Frank Perconte: Doesn’t know how to fix it at the beginning but will try to figure it out. He may storm off a few times cussing the damn thing in frustration but he’ll get it done eventually.
✿ Floyd Talbert: Absolutely could. He + his brothers used to do all sorts of odd jobs & carpentry stuff back in Kokomo.
✿ David Webster: Nope! Wants to fix it so badly but is absolutely Hopeless when it comes to any sort of home renovation. Despite some of the more stubborn guys on this list, Web's not ashamed about calling somebody to fix it. He just kind of figures, "Well someone has to do it" & it is Clearly not going to be him.
✿ Skinny Sisk: Please for the love of God, Do Not Let This Man Near A Hammer. 😭 He will joke around with it like a dumbass & will probably just accidentally hurt himself or someone else.
#Band of Brothers headcanons#Easy Company headcanons#BoB headcanons#Dick Winters#Dick Winters x Reader#Dick Winters imagine#Lewis Nixon#Lewis Nixon x Reader#Lewis Nixon imagine#Eugene Roe#Eugene Roe imagine#Eugene Roe x Reader#Skinny Sisk#Eugene Roe headcanon#Skinny Sisk headcanon#Skinny Sisk x Reader#Joe Liebgott x Reader#Joe Liebgott imagine#Joe Liebgott headcanon#Don Malarkey#Don Malarkey x Reader#Don Malarkey headcanon#Skip Muck#Band of Brothers fandom#Band of Brothers#HBO Band of Brothers#HBO War#David Webster x Reader#David Webster imagine#David Webster
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Artist
Eugene Roe X FemReader
Summary: When an artist has no outlet, weird things start to happen.
My first story for this fandom. I'm nervous showing this, I hope I got the character right. But most likely not quite.
The real and the portrayal should be seen as two different entities
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It's not unknown that you have an artistic side. Hell, you even mentioned that you were an artist before enlisting yourself.
You have this small sketchbook you carry around as a personal item. However, once in the Ardennes you ran out of pencils. You can't sketch anymore... which has made you become restless and twitchy. artistic expression is your outlet, a way to express your thoughts that can't be described with words alone.
Eugene noticed your little quirks, it was easy to notice for many close to you. To find you sketching in your little sketchbook. He would watch you sketch whenever he had the chance, whether it was random scribbles or a direct replica of a nearby view captured on paper like a photograph.
You never openly showed your drawings out of embarrassment, you always refused when someone asked to see when you drew. Which is too bad for Eugene really wanted to see and wouldn't judge at all.
But now though, you're out of pencils. You asked some of the men for pencils but none were of help. Left with not much of a choice, you had to find another outlet for yourself.
And that's when the snow sculptures appeared...
~~~~
At his round check-ups when he first saw the strange things that you did with the snow around your foxhole. They were shapeless at first, little hopes of snow surrounding your foxhole like an altar. Eugene approaches slowly and kneels down by you, watching you mess with the snow.
"What're you doin'?" He questions suddenly, startling you. You let out a yelp, accidentally clenching the snow in your hand causing it to pulverize and fall on your lap onto bits.
Your head whips around and your shocked expression causes the medic to raise his hand in defence. "sorry..." He mumbles an apology for scaring you.
Your whole shivering complexion relaxes almost right away as you see who is knocking at the door of your foxhole. "I... uh." You stammer, you become bashful once again, as you usually do when someone catches you being artistic.
"can't really hide that can't I?" You chuckle, whipping your cold hand on your coat. "I'm... making snow sculptures, as you can see." You gesture to the shaped snow. "Doesn't look like much, I've never really sculpted before." You explain quietly. "needs practice." You poke one of the sculptures and it immediately falls apart at your touch.
Eugene hums in acknowledgement, he's somewhat surprised you found something to occupy yourself while all alone in your frozen hidy hole.
"everythin' alright?" He finally asks a question he originally came to ask you. You look back up at him and offer him a soft smile, such a gesture makes him feel a little better about himself even.
"I'm alright. Cold...sure, but we all are. I'm rather tired as well, but we all are, haha." your dry laugh makes him think you're disregarding your own well-being, and he doesn't like the sound of that.
"Well... Get some rest while you can. And I'll see if one of the others has a blanket to spare." He replies with a curt smile, gesturing to the rest of the forest behind him where the others are located.
Your grin grows and you reach over to pat the medic on the knee, "awh thank you, Gene, thank you." You gleam, although your smile does not quite reach your eyes. Eugene hopes a blanket and some rest would help with that. Eugene nods before wandering off again. You watch as his silhouette disappears within the trees, and once you're alone again you resume your little art project.
~~~~
A couple of friends have showed up just to see what you were doing, your snow sculptures have taken much more of a recognizable shape. One of the most famous ones is the Squirrel, the owl and the tiny snowman. The sculptures are now decorated with twigs and dead leaves that you find.
A few days later your foxhole is surrounded by sculptures and you were well occupied with your art.
And Eugene could tell that this new art form is doing you good.
As he slanders towards your foxhole once again, tiny art pieces all around.
You can see Eugene coming, and once he reaches your position, you smile at him and offer a meek wave.
"Good..." you pull your sleeve back and go check your watch, "afternoon, Gene." you greet with a keen smile, which Eugene returns. "Before you ask, I'm doing quite alright if I say so myself. I've got a blanket and I slept for a solid three hours last night!" You announce proudly to him. He can tell that you're able to keep your spirits up, and he is not sure rather be glad or concerned about your mental status. But the look in your eyes tells him enough.
"Come." You gingerly scoot aside in your foxhole and pat the now-free spot next to you, inviting Eugene to join you.
He can hardly say no to that kind of look you have, so he steps over the sculptures and joins your foxhole. From here Eugene can look at all the sculptures that you have made, and he can recognise the shapes now.
"an owl, an oohoo to be precise." He says as he observes the sculptures, he can tell from the protruding sticks at the top of the owl's head that represents feathers, distinctive to an oohoo. "It's... Cute." He mumbles. You smile at him as he basks in the greatness of your artwork. You're quite proud of it. There is more of your art that you'd like to show him. And you feel like you've gained the courage to, "that's not the only art I've made you know?" You say as you dig around through your many pockets for your sketchbook.
Finally! You reveal your sketchbook to Eugene, who is surprised that you have to show him your usually secret artwork with him, He almost feels honoured. "You want to take a look? I know the others always ask to see." You offer, not knowing it Eugene wants to look at all. But alas he nods and takes the sketchbook from you as you gesture to him.
Opening the sketchbook, he finds rough sketches of a mythical-looking creature he can't identify, flipping the next pace there is a sketch of Toccoa, a view of the barracks and mass hall.
Eugene looks on in awe at the following drawings of sights the company has been to. It's just as he had imagined, the drawing looks like you directly took the view and put it on paper, a perfect copy. There is only one view that he doesn't recognize. "Oh," You pipe in, scooting closer to Eugene, nearly pressing against his side. "That's my family home right there. I got a little homesick and hoped that drawing my home from memory would make me feel better... In the end, it only made me sadder..." you explain the picture. Eugene doesn't take his eyes off the picture of your family home, it's a rather large looking house, you must have a big family. "this is a work of art." He gapes at the page. Your gut bubbles with pride at Eugene's compliments.
The next page housed a face; More specifically a portrait of Sergeant Lipton. "he was one of my first friends back when everyone else was still scared of me," You giggle as you're recalling memories. Eugene remembers too, vividly almost. Most men at Toccoa were unsure what to think of you, even Eugene himself was one of those. He never hated you, merely perplexed at the sight of a woman in the army, and not just for nursing. You had trouble getting along with the company at first until Lipton willingly sat with you one breakfast morning and introduced himself. He then spread a few good words about you, later during medical training Eugene befriended you over home stories.
The next page had Winters' portrait, then Nixon, Liebgott, Grant, Randleman, Talbert and then himself. Down to every detail of his face, sketched on the paper. It has been a while since he got a look at himself, but it's like looking at a mirror. "oh look, that's you!" You quip proudly while pointing at the page.
"That explains your starin'..." Eugene concludes one of your typical quirks he picked up on over the years, seemingly mindless staring is what you did a lot, though it doesn't look so mindless now. Merely memorizing the men's features to draw portraits. His comment makes you chuckle, "You got me there. You can keep yours for 10 bucks." You reply with wit, then your expression suddenly falters a little. You reach over and turn the page of your sketchbook, revealing portraits of Muck, Malarkey and Penkala. The following pages had a few other fallen friends.
"If only I had some pencils down I'd be able to draw again..." You look around your foxhole at the sculptures. "You're an amazin' artist, (Y/L)." Eugene compliments, causing you to flush pink and not just from the cold. "Plan on doin' something with it?" He questions as he continues to flip through your sketchbook until he discovers empty pages, the book is not full just yet. You shrug, at this point, you live by the day and you're not really thinking about the future. "maybe, I don't know. It's more of a hobby thing. I sell pieces sometimes at local fairs." You look out in the distance you familiarized yourself with, you wish to put this view on paper someday. Despite the surrounding horror, a snow wonderland like this you'll most likely never see again. You do have a strong desire never to see this place again once you're out.
Eugene follows your gaze into the snowed-over forest, gently closing your beloved sketchbook and treating it like thin glass and handing it back to you.
It's silent for a moment, neither sure of what to say nor merely enjoying each other's presence.
It's rather pleasant until you jerk back to life, turning to the man beside you. "You should resume your check-up now. I think the others are starting to wonder where you are." You speak up sitha a reassuring smile. You do have a good point, and Eugene agrees.
Looking around cautiously before climbing out of your foxhole, he says goodbye and continues on his rounds, feeling a bit lighter than he did before.
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This is my first story for this fandom, even though the show is just as old as I am it is a great show.
I haven't watched the show yet and started watching the first part, but I already heavily spoiled it like I usually do for myself.
Thanks for reading.
- Smilex🙂
#band of brothers x reader#eugene roe x reader#reader insert#imagine#band of brothers imagines#eugene roe imagine#fluff#x reader#band of brothers#eugene roe
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omg i'm so excited your requests are open! (i finished bob earlier this month and i read through all your stuff :) you'r writing is so good!) can i request headcannons with either roe or guarnere about how they would react to their so having health issues? (i'm projecting lol) thank you!!
thank you for such kind words, means the world to me🤧
also I'm sorry this kinda sucks? ive read a lot about projecting and chose this as the main topic cuz it was interesting to me but i dunno if I wrote it right 🥲
feel free to tell me if there are some errors or wrong assumptions
did both guarno and gene cuz felt like it 🌞
Bill Guarnere:
let's be honest, this Italian man has some issues with himself so
he would notice something was going on
but when he finds out about your health issues he would be a little surprised
but ofc supportive! that man will always help you out
he'll ask around, probably ask babe if he knows anything, how to help you
no matter the problem, he's always there for you <3
if it's projecting
if you're feeling overly hurt, defensive or sensitive
he would try to resolve the problem
not in a fight, no
he'd ask you how you're feeling
maybe he'd ask you to see someone, therapist
or he'd ask you just to talk to him if you wouldn't feel alright with talking to someone
he'd ask you what you want from him
he'd do anything for you and make sure you know he's not the one hurting you and only wanting the best
Eugene Roe:
gene, our sweetest angel in a form of a medic, would be extremely supportive
if you told him about your health issues, he'd immediately try to find out more about these issues
if it's projecting
he'd read more about it
he'd ask a therapist about it
and if you didn't feel like seeing someone
he would try to help you
he'd ask you to talk to him
like bill he'd try to resolve the problem without a fight because arguing never leads to anything good
i feel like gene would confront you about the issues but in a calm way??
he'd tell you that he's here to help you not to fight and hurt you
he would listen to what you have to say without judgement
he'd support you and offer you encouragement
#band of brothers#bill guarnere#eugene roe#gene roe#william guarnere#wild bill#band of brothers fanfiction#band of brothers fanfic#bob#band of brothers imagine#band of brothers x reader#wild bill guarnere#bill guarnere x reader#bill guarnere imagine#eugene roe x reader#eugene roe imagine
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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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✨️Masterlist✨️
John Egan:
I'll come pick it up after / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / End /
Did you just kiss me?
Alright, bet!
Protect You
Back to black
Until you come back home / 2 /
Stop trying to feel everything
Inventor
Soft and prude
Small space
Run!
You want my jacket?
Kiss me before you leave
I hate / love you
Princess and the fool
I have a plan
You're like me, but better
New Girl
Never felt so...
Too Sweet
Chicken
Callum Turner:
Co- Stars / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 /
Qué serà serà
Finals season
Joe Rantz:
Training / 2 /
Theseus Scamander
Young, dumb in love
Curtis Biddick
Daylight
Your idiot?
You have to live
Gale Cleven
Told you she was real
Who did this to you?
Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal
Therapist
Ronald Speirs
Disguise
John Brady
Misunderstanding
Austin Butler
Fame
#callum turner#callum turner x reader#callum turner imagine#john egan x reader#joe rantz x reader#major john egan#boys in the boat#master of the air imagine#master of the air#theseus scamander#fantastic beasts#rosie rosenthal#nate mann#band of brothers x reader#band of brothers imagine#band of brothers#eugene roe#ronald speirs#ronald speirs x reader#john brady#ben radcliffe
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Another idea I would love to see you write (and it doesn't have to be NSFW if it makes you uncomfortable) is Malarkey, Babe, Chuck, Shifty, Winters (and anyone else you want to write) reactions to seeing all the various scars you received during the war for the first time. The scars can be wherever on the body you want to put them and the injuries that caused them can be different for each guy if you want; I will leave that to your creativity and discretion. I would just find it interesting to see how you think they'd react bc, while injuries during the war became probably a daily occurrence for the men that they've grown accustomed to, you're technically not a man and how could you have gotten hurt?
ugh I absolutely love this request it’s so creative, thank you sm!! I hope it’s what you were picturing, if not feel free to request another :) i’m comfortable writing NSFW but for this request I haven’t gone too crazy, but there is some mentions of potential smut? I can also understand how the topic of scars should be a TW- but no mentions of any self inflicted scars.
Easy Boys reaction to seeing your scars:
Dick Winters:
I think he’d probably notice the small, circular scar on the back of your lower hip during seggsy time.
he wouldn’t point it out, seeing as that seemed rude and a bit off putting mid activity- especially seeing as it was one of the first times the two of you sleep together.
it’s afterwards that you’re cuddling when his hand travels down, “how did you get this?”
“oh, that scar?” You’d begin to laugh, leaving him a little confused. “Accidental cigarette burn from a guy I was treating in Normandy.”
Dick is a little confused, you seem so amused so he’s following along with a smile but it’s the most confusing thing ever.
what actually happened is pretty lighthearted, you were treating a wounded guy in the infirmary in Normandy, and well, his eyes were bandaged up and accidentally mistook you for the ash tray?
a pretty funny story, it burnt at the time, but you don’t mind the small scar, in fact it’s even amusing to you. Dick doesn’t notice it often, but when he remembers the story you told him he’d smile every single time he’d see it again.
Babe Heffron:
In Austria you’re wearing your summer uniform/ clothes, things are more relaxed, and so when your top falls down your collarbone the slightest bit, you don’t think anything of it.
“Wha- hey! How’d you get that?!” That was until a certain Babe Heffron chimed up, sounding overwhelmingly concerned, eyes focused on your upper chest.
“What?” At first you’d cover it up, unconsciously before even realising what he’d seen.
he’d hurry over, taking a peak to sigh with relief when he realised it was an older scar.
“Babe.” You’d grumble, pulling your top further up out of embarrassment.
“Oh, hey- no, don’t be upset, I was just worried thas all. It’s not everyday I see a lady with a scar, y’know.” His hand would smooth down your arm, worried he’d offended you, but he’s so sweet, how could you ever be upset at Babe?
“It’s from Bastogne, right?” Unlike the other men (apart from Gene) Babe would probably recognise where it was from.
“The bombing at the church, yeah.”
“I like it, looks cool.” He’d be so honest and genuine, at first I think you’d be a little shy, but Babe finds it so unique, and well- it makes you you.
the major downfall however is that you obviously got hurt, resulting in this scar. He can’t bare the idea of you hurt, it sends a chill through to his bone.
Chuck Grant:
Chuck is no stranger to scars especially after the war, so when he notices you’ve got a couple littered around your leg he doesn’t point them out due to knowing how sensitive that topic can be.
theyre white and faded now, only small, but I feel like Chuck would probably recognise they’re from Bastogne- like he’s seen the wounds the splintered trees cause, he figured it would be something like that.
in reality they were a present from Haguenau. An exploded building left your leg semi trapped, luckily not broke, but it hurt like a bitch and left you with the constant reminder of the pain.
You’d tell him one day after a shower, when you caught him looking at them. “I know they’re ugly.” You’d wince, conscious.
“Ugly? No, c’mere, babe.” He’d pull you into his lap, hand on your thigh as he kisses you so tenderly.
“Nothin’ about you could ever be ugly, doll.” Ugh he’d be sooo sweet and kind, reassuring you in the best way possible whilst accidentally seducing you.
Shifty Powers:
Too cute omg, he wouldn’t even really notice too much, I mean everybody has scars. You’d lay and night and he’d caress your skin, not caring if there was a scar or two littered around your shoulder.
“How’d ya’ get this?” He’d ask softly when the two of you were both falling asleep.
“Nothin’ exciting, I was playing around in the water when we were in Austria and caught my shoulder on the pier gettin’ out the water. I wish it was a better story.”
Shifty would find it so amusing because only you would wish you had a better story to tell about a scar. The rest on your body are from your childhood, Shifty would love hearing the stories that come along with each scar.
Eugene Roe:
Unlike some of the men I think Gene would’ve actually been there when you got injured.
you’re a woman, part of the medic team, a field nurse really which is attached to easy company, so you’re close to the men, especially Gene, throughout the war.
Gene would still remember vividly the day you got hit, how he failed to protect you, cover you. A sniper came out of nowhere, catching you in the shoulder. Gene can only imagine the bullet was meant for him and not you.
He’s the one that patched you up to the best of his abilities, it’s one thing treating a man, but to be treating a girl? Especially one he liked- well his hands were shaking and he was reassuring you non stop.
the scar left was only small, luckily there was no complications and you got lucky and could get back to work real quick.
Every time Eugene notices the scar it reminds him of what happened to you. At first he wouldn’t talk about it. Then, slowly you get it out of him and he’s so soft with you.
“I just don’t know what I woulda’ done.” He’d sigh, burrowing his face in your neck/ chest pressing kisses to your skin.
“Well you don’t have to think that, cos I’m still here with you now, Gene.”
Don Malarkey:
Don would actually notice the fresh scar on leg during Haguenau when you were rolling your socks up, he gets a peak at the flesh on your calf.
“Woah, that looks nasty, how’d you get that?” He comes and sits behind you, waiting for you to turn around.
“Fuckin’ tripped and fell, Malark. Out of everything that coulda happened to me I got this from falling over.”
Malark is more concerned about your wellbeing but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t break a smile.
“That’s just your luck.” He’d smile, rubbing your leg gently to check if it hurt. “You’re ok now though? So you don’t need carrying around everywhere?”
“I wouldn’t object to that…”
No but seriously, Don is a massive sweetheart, he probably would carry you around Austria just for the fun of it, he still blames it on your ‘cut leg’ that he needs to do that.
in reality he’s just flirting with you and knows it’s super easy for you to kiss him whilst he’s holding you like that.
Lewis Nixon:
“What’d you do?” He’d ask as soon as he saw it, running his hand back against your hair, revealing a kinda small scar placed near your hairline.
it’s early in the morning, the two of you are lounging in bed with a cup of tea or coffee, preparing to have a lazy day.
“Oh, it’s from running Currahee, I face-palmed the floor.”
“Ouch, what did Sobel say?”
“thank god he wasn’t there to see it. I got a matching one on my knee too, from the same fall.” You’d pull out your bare leg from the covers and he’d purposefully slide his hand up your thigh, then over the scar on your knee.
“Nice. Battle scars.” He smirked, teasing and pulling your leg over his to give him a cuddle.
#band of brothers x reader#band of brothers imagine#band of brothers headcanons#dick winters x reader#babe heffron x reader#chuck grant x reader#shifty powers x reader#eugene roe x reader#gene roe x reader#lewis nixon x reader#don malarkey x reader
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Chapter 1-Rosaria Marie Leone
Summary: Chicago native, Rosaria Leone (leh-OHN), was stationed in Aldourne, England awaiting further instructions to her next duty location. She finally received orders to Bastogne after the 326th Medical team was captured on their way to the town by German soldiers.
The church in the town was converted into an aid station to lodge wounded soldiers that came in from the front lines, but with medical supplies running low and shortage of medical personnel, the Americans were in desperate need of more medics and nurses to keep up with the workload. To her surprise, she finds a few silver linings by befriending a local nurse, Renée Lemaire, and Easy Company’s medic, Eugene ‘Doc’ Roe.
A/N: OC Introduction/Rosaria Marie Leone (leh-OHN), EugeneRoeX!FemMedic, WW2, Character introduction, Post D-Day, She/Her Pronouns, Military Terminology, Band of Brothers References, Mentions of Weaponry, Smoking, Mentions of death, Blood, Medical Terminology, Italian and French with English translations
Story takes place during Episode 6-Bastogne
*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*
~~~~~~~
Bastogne September 1944
“Rosaria Marie Le-Leeee-on-” the charge nurse, Agatha Hannigan began with difficulty, as she looked over her spectacles at the orders given to her by the young woman standing before her.
“Leone.” The young lady articulated. She was used to people mispronouncing her last name.
The older lady’s lips pursed into a thin line, clearly displeased with being corrected by a replacement. She scribbled a few things on the orders. The charge nurse looked back at the young woman, scanning her from head to toe with every ounce of disdain behind her eyes.
“Why are you wearing soldier’s fatigues? Where is your ward dress uniform? And your apron and head scarf?” Hannigan snapped.
“This is all I ever worn, ma’am. I’m a field medic, so this is my initial issued uniform.” she explained.
Hannigan sniffed at her, then wrote a few more notes on the orders.
“Alright, Rosaria Leone-”
“It’s just Saria-”
“-you and Renée report to me and I report to LT Doc Ryan.” she explained paying no mind to Saria’s statement.
Saria sighed, “Yes, ma’am.”
As she followed Hannigan, they approached a young nurse stirring a large metal pot hanging over a pit in the fireplace. The smell of the steam proved it wasn’t any kind of food she had been mixing but used bandages that were being laundered.
“Renée-” Hannigan bellowed.
The girl turned upon hearing her name. She met the charge nurse and Saria halfway as she dried her hands on her apron.
“-this is our new nurse, Rosaria Lenonni, just in from Aldourne.” Hannigan introduced.
Saria rolled her eyes but remained silent, not bothering to correct her again.
Renée extended her hand, “Bonjour! (Hello!)” she greeted in French.
“Ciao. (Hello.)” Saria returned in Italian with a warm smile shaking Renée's hand.
“You speak Italian?” Hannigan asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Hm, a lot of good that’ll do you here. You do know you're in Belgium, right? Renée, you got her from here.” Hannigan snipped, waving her hand as she walked away.
“Oui. (Yes).” Renée replied turning back to Saria, “-Don’t mind her. You’ll get used to her.” she whispered with a grin.
“I’m sure.” Saria responded.
“Viens avec moi (Come with me), I’ll show you around.” Renée gestured to Saria to follow her.
~~~~~~~
December 1944
The months flew by and before Saria could blink, a layer of snow covered the grounds in and around Bastogne. She quickly befriended Renée and the other Congolese nurse, Anna. Together, they worked side by side tending to the wounded, and endured the aftermath of what happened outside of the Church/aid station when soldiers were brought to them. The horrors of blood and gore came in overwhelming waves, but Saria, Anna and Renée worked through the carnage as a team to do what they needed to do to save the men that were brought to them.
More often than not, soldiers have succumbed to their injuries because medical supplies were becoming scarcer. There was very little of everything they needed, and it seemed more and more men were being brought to them daily. They were unable to evacuate the wounded or receive medical supplies due to heavy German advances. Not only did the Germans prevent escape for the injured, but they also captured the 326th Medical team and integrated them into their own medical team to tend to their wounded soldiers.
“Lost another one today.” Renée said to Saria as she sat next to her on a pew against the wall.
Saria shook her head, “Seems to be happening more often, doesn’t it?” she acknowledged.
“Peut-être (Perhaps).” Renée replied as she reached into her apron pocket pulling out a half-wrapped bar of chocolate.
She removed the paper and broke off a piece, handing it to Saria.
“Chocolat?” she asked.
Saria looked at the candy in Renée's hand and smiled weakly as she took it from her.
“Merci.” Saria thanked.
“Prego.” Renée returned in Italian, “Your French is getting better!” she added.
Saria laughed, “You don’t have to be nice about it, Renée, I know it needs work.”
“No, I insist! Your practicing is paying off, mon ami (my friend).” Renée encouraged.
“Well thanks to you.” Saria pointed out.
As they sat there enjoying the sweet treat, a handful of soldiers came in with an injured man on a stretcher, as a medic walked in after them.
Renée and Saria rushed to the men with the injured soldier.
“No, no. Here. Put him here.” Renee instructed.
“Yes, ma’am.” the head soldier carrying the stretcher obliged as they lifted him onto a bed.
“Is he bad?” Saria asked the medic.
“No, lower-leg wound. No morphine.” he replied in a deep calm voice.
Renée took a quick look at the right leg then nodded.
“I’ll get more bandages.” Renée relayed to Saria.
Before Renée could leave the medic was following her, “Nurse, have you got plasma I can--?”
“Wait. Please.” Renée urged before disappearing into another room.
The medic furrowed his eyebrows, discouraged by Renée's response. Saria felt a wave of guilt for him.
She looked back at the soldier on the bed that they just brought in, “What’s your name, soldier?”
“They call me Skinny.” he responded with labored breathing.
“I’m Saria. We’ll get you squared away, ok?” She reassured him with a warm smile.
He nodded with a forced grin since he was obviously in pain. She covered him with a blanket and turned to the same medic standing alone in a doorway watching Anna pack a thigh wound of another soldier while Renée assisted.
The medic turned to Saria, “Hey, what’s going on here? Why aren't these men being evacuated?”
Saria was a little taken back by his dismayed tone.
“We can’t evacuate. We’re cut off, this is far as it goes.” she replied as she side stepped him to get to Renée and Anna.
~~~~~~~
Renée and Saria had returned to Skinny with a bottle of liquor and a glass, pouring him a hefty amount to drink as a pain remedy.
Skinny looked up at the two nurses then looked at the medic, “I think I’m in heaven, Doc.”
The medic smirked briefly.
As Renée and Saria began walking away, the medic called after them, “Nurse-”
“This way.” Renée said, as she motioned him to follow.
The medic walked along side Saria while they followed Renée to the rear of the church where all the supplies were being stored at an extravagant altar.
“I need Morphine. I need bandages. Whatever you got. We’re down to nothin’.” the medic explained.
“Ok, I can give you a little, but not a lot.” Renée replied gravely.
Saria picked up a small wooden crate filled with IV bottles, syringes, and a few syrette cases.
“You can have this today. Do you want that?” Saria asked him.
“Oui. You got plasma?” he questioned urgently.
“A little. Are you a surgeon?” Renée queried.
“No. We don’t got no surgeon.” he replied with a bit of sting behind his voice.
Saria placed a handful of torn cloth into his crate, “What’s this?” he asked, holding up the bulk of cloth.
“From the beds.” Saria replied.
“What, sheets?” he clarified.
“Yes, for bandages.”
A look of shock appeared on the medic’s face as he stared at her.
“It does the job.” Saria said with a soft smile and a shrug.
He nodded, placing the bandages back in the crate.
He stood tall before Renée and Saria when they were done packing the crate with supplies,
“Merci.” he thanked in a low honeyed southern accent.
“Prego.” Saria responded.
The medic shot her a look of confusion, tilting his head studying her like a puzzle.
“Comment vous appelez-vous? (What do you call yourself?)” the man asked Saria and Renée.
Renée looked at him, then looked at Saria expectantly waiting for her to reply.
“Go on, this is a perfect time to practice, mon ami. (my friend).” Renée encouraged Saria.
Saria’s eyes flitted between Renée and the medic,
“Uh-” was all Saria could manage until she heard Renée again.
“Tu peux le faire, mon ami (You can do it, friend).”
Saria took a deep breath, “Je m'appelle Rosaria Leone (My name is Rosaria Leone).”
A smile tugged at the corners of the medic’s mouth.
“My name is Renée.”
“I’m Gene. Eugene Roe.”
“Where are you from?” Renée asked Eugene.
“Louisiana. Half-Cajun. Et toi? (And you?)” he returned.
“Bastogne.” Renée answered.
Eugene looked at Saria.
“Chicago.”
His eyes widened like a deer in the headlights.
“Oh, I thought maybe you-”
“No, I’m American. My parents were born in Tuscany, Italy.” Saria explained.
“I see.” he discerned.
There was a brief silence before he nodded at Saria then turned to follow Renée to the exit.
“Addio, Eugenio. (Goodbye, Eugene).” Saria called after him in Italian.
Eugene turned while still walking away displaying a coy smile.
After some time, Renée returned from showing Eugene out. Her cheeks were rosy, and she wore a subtle smile as she mindlessly stirred the boiling pot of bandages.
“Renée?”
No response.
“Renée?” Saria said again a little louder.
Renée looked at her startled, “Oui?”
Saria laughed, “You were gone for a good couple of minutes. Où étiez-vous? (Where were you?)” Saria stated.
Renée smiled, “I caught up with our new friend to give him some chocolat.”
“That was nice of you, Renée.”
“You can see in his eyes he’s seen some awful things. He needed to be shown some kindness.” Renée explained.
~~~~~~~
It wasn’t the last time Renée and Saria saw Eugene Roe. The second time he had visited, Renée and Saria were frantically trying to stop a soldier from bleeding out from his mid-section. As Saria tried to pack the wound where the source of the bleeding was while Gene had been wiping the blood away so she could see where the artery was. The soldier expired leaving Renée, Gene, and Saria disheartened and lost in their own thoughts.
Saria sauntered towards the spiral staircase to the main entrance so she could go outside to get some air. Eventually, Renée and Eugene joined her. Saria sat by a pile of broken furniture in front of the church, with her face buried in her hands. Renée sat next to Saria draping an arm across her shoulders pulling her in for a side hug.
“Ça va mon ami? (Are you alright, my friend?)” Renée asked.
Saria only nodded; not even sure she really was ok.
Eugene observed each of their hands. Saria’s hands, bruised with remanence of the soldier’s blood after failing to wash all of it off her knuckles and nails and Renée's hands bearing the same appearances. Renée pulled a new bar of chocolate from her apron pocket and began tearing away the paper.
She broke off a section, nudging Saria, “Tiens, belle amie (Here, beautiful friend).”
Saria accepted the chocolate, “Vous êtes trop gentil. (You’re too kind).”
Renée offered Eugene the candy, but as he took it from her, he smiled.
“What?” Renée asked.
“Your hands.” Eugene gestured to her and Saria. Saria slowly looked up at him.
“Our hands?” Renée reiterated.
He nodded, “You’re good nurses.” he complimented.
Renée looked at her hands, “No. I never want to treat another wounded man again. I’d rather work in a butcher’s shop.”
Eugene’s eyebrows drew inward hearing her statement.
“But your touch calms people.” he defended, “That’s a gift from God.” he added.
Renée shook her head, “No, it’s not a gift,” she flipped her hands over to look at the back of them, “God would never give such a painful thing.” she proclaimed.
“Renée, you don’t mean that.” Saria insisted.
“Oh, mais je le fais, mon ami. (Oh, but I do, my friend).” Renee said with a weak smile.
A jeep pulled up with yet another wounded soldier, “Nurse! Nurse! We need some help over here!”
Renée looked over her shoulder, “Stay and rest awhile longer, mon ami. I’ll take care of this.” She said to Saria as she gave her an encouraging hug before she stood up and ran off.
A moment of silence passed before Eugene spoke again.
“Is that how you feel, too?” he asked her.
Saria sighed, “No. I don’t.” she replied confidently shaking her head before meeting his gaze.
“Glad to hear it.” he affirmed with a slight smile as he looked back down at the candy bar in his hand.
Saria folded her hands in her lap.
“Comment se porte ton français? (How’s your French coming along?)” Eugene quizzed her with a mischievous grin.
Saria looked at him alarmed, and slightly embarrassed. She rubbed the back of her neck and began to blush.
“Oh, uh-” she began, “-tellement, tellement (so, so.)” she replied.
Eugene chuckled, “I've heard you do better than that.” he declared, “Tell me something new you’ve learned. Peut-être que je peux aider. (Maybe I can help.)” he offered.
Saria felt heat rise from her collar.
“Ce serait généreux de votre part, Eugène (That would be generous of you, Eugene),” she managed to say, “-merci.”
“Prego.” Eugene answered modestly in Italian with a welcoming smile.
Saria laughed aloud at his playful response.
“Guess I could return the favor and teach you some Italian.” she suggested.
“Sure.” Gene allotted. “Guess I’ll be heading back to the line then. See ya around, mon ami.” He stood and ran towards the jeep to hitch a ride.
Saria watched the jeep speed off with Eugene in the front seat, saying a silent prayer to herself for him to be safe when he makes it to the front lines.
~~~~~~~
Christmas Eve 1944
The third run in with Eugene, he brought in an Easy Company soldier, with an IV already applied. As they carried him in setting him down onto a cot, the receiving medic, Jones, began hounding Gene for the man’s information.
“Where’s his tag?” Jones looked all over the man’s person, then looked at Gene again, “Where’s his tag?”
Eugene stared at his buddy lying on the cot unable to move.
“What’s wrong with him?” Jones pushed.
Eugene looked at him calmly, “Paralyzed.” he responded simply.
“What?” Jones asked.
Eugene sighed, “He’s paralyzed. Can’t feel a thing.” he clarified.
Renée saw him from across the room, “Eugene?”
Gene looked at her, his spirits lifted the moment he saw her smile.
“Eugene.” Renée greeted him.
“Renée-” he replied with frail delight in his voice.
“Are you-” Renee started to ask before she was interrupted.
“-Renée, I need some help over here!” Jones called from the back.
“Are you all right?” Renée continued as she walked towards Eugene.
“Renée! We need you!” Jones called again.
She looked towards the rear of the church where Jones was then huffed in frustration. She met Gene’s disappointed expression, gave him an apologetic smile then scampered off.
“Bonjour, Eugène.” Saria greeted.
“Bonjour, Rosaria, mon ami. (Hello, Rosaria, my friend),” he returned with a fleeting smile.
Saria looked Gene over, “You ok?”
He met her concerned guise with soft tired eyes, “Oui.” he responded plainly.
Saria gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “Je suis toujours là, mon ami. (I’m always here, friend.)” Saria reassured him.
He looked at her and nodded, “Merci, mon ami.” he replied managing a genuine smile.
Saria returned a smile then proceeded past him.
“Oh, and Eugene-” she called back to him.
He turned to her.
“Joyeux noël. (Merry Christmas.)” she projected somewhat cheerfully to him, sending him a wink before he could reply.
Eugene smiled to himself, feeling that bit of warmth in his heart that he hadn’t felt in a long time.
~~~~~~~
Eugene returned to the line, only to have to go back to Bastogne to bring LT Welsh to the aid station that night. Upon entering the town, everyone was in a panic, running to find cover from an imminent German air raid heading towards the town.
Upon hearing the siren alerting the town of the attack, Renée and Saria began assisting the wounded who tolerated the ability to move to evacuate the church.
On the other side of the town, Eugene could see the enemy aircraft approaching. He started to race towards the church to see if Renée, Saria, and Anna had been able to reach safety. As he sprinted towards the aid station, the bombers passed overhead releasing shells on every building in their wake until one hit the church, releasing a mushrooming blast from the steeple. Another bomber deploying a bigger explosive, shattered the foundation of the stone building, sending it to shambles to the ground below.
Eugene stopped in his tracks, shielding his eyes from the piercing light from the blast. Frozen from shock and disbelief, his mind began piecing together the possibility that Renée, Saria, and Anna were still in the church during the bombing. To this thought, he began running again, pushing through the crowds to reach his friends.
~~~~~~~
Eugene searched relentlessly for the three nurses. As dawn approached, he began to lose hope. He had asked everyone he bumped into if they had seen Renée, Saria, or Anna. Everyone he asked either hadn’t known the whereabouts of any medical personnel or had conflicting stories of who made it out or not.
Just when Eugene was ready to give up, he saw a familiar figure sitting on a pile of stones that had collapsed from the church. As he cautiously approached, he recognized the face of this young woman seated before him.
“Rosaria?” He addressed the woman with strain behind his voice.
Saria turned slowly; her bloodshot eyes met his hopeful face while tears trailed through the dirt on her cheeks. When she saw it was Eugene, her tear flow increased beyond her ability to see.
“Eugene.” she gasped as she tried to stand to meet him. As she did, she lost her footing on the gravel.
Eugene snaked his arms around her, pulling her into him so she wouldn’t fall forward.
“Hey, now! Je t'ai eu (I got you).” he exclaimed.
He helped her stand up right, pulling her square to him so he could talk to her.
“Are you ok!?” he asked.
“I-I’m alive.” Saria stuttered.
Eugene kneaded her shoulders with his hands.
“Et Renée? (And Renée?) Anna?” he dared to ask holding Saria steady by the shoulders.
Saria looked away from Eugene and began to sniffle. Eugene waited.
She reached into her pocket, pulling out a blue head scarf and handed it to him. He took it from her, realizing it was the same one that Renée had worn.
He stared at the blue cloth in his hand as everything began to sink in.
“We-” Saria tried to explain but her overwhelming anguish had her struggling to speak, “-we were evacuating as many men as we could. Renée had----gone back inside to find Anna right before the first shell dropped on the church-”
Eugene redirected his eyes onto Saria. He swallowed hard, biting back the tears he felt building up.
“When the first bomb hit, I tried to go in to get her...then the second one hit blocking the entrance to the church. I couldn’t get to them, Eugene.” Saria whispered, staring over his shoulder reliving the horrific scene as if it was replaying in front of her on a movie screen.
She started to shake her head, “If I had only gotten there sooner-”
“No,” Gene placed a hand on each side of her face bringing her attention to him, “what happened to Renée and Anna is not your fault. You hear me?”
Saria’s tears spilled over like waterfalls.
He pulled her into his chest, allowing her to sob into his jacket as he stroked her hair.
“Ssshhh,” Gene soothed, “Je suis là, belle amie. Je suis là (I’m right here, beautiful friend. I’m here.)”
~~~~~~~
#band of brothers#hbo war#eugene roe#doc roe#shane taylor#eugene roe x reader#eugene roe x oc#ww2#army#101st airborne#easy company#eugene roe imagine#oc#medic#nurse#combat medic#chicago#italian#french
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Reunion - Eugene 'Doc' Roe
WARNINGS: Mentions of death, war , blood etc
MASTERLIST
BAND OF BROTHERS MASTERLIST
The dimly lit church in Bastogne echoed with the distant sounds of artillery as She moved urgently through the makeshift medical station.
As a medic for Dog Company, she had seen the unforgiving toll that war took on the soldiers she tended to. Little did she know that amidst the chaos, fate had a reunion in store for her.
She and a team of men maneuverered through the crowded space, their wounded comrade's groans of pain filled the air. The tight quarters of the church made the task more challenging. Suddenly, as they rounded a corner, she nearly collided with a man standing in her way.
"Move out of the way!" she barked, her voice cutting through the urgency of the situation. With adrenaline coursing through her veins.
"Help! We need help over here!" She called out to the doctors and nurses in the makeshift hospital. The wounded man's life hung in the balance, and time was of the essence.
Without a second thought, Eugene 'Doc' Roe responded to her call. He rushed to assist, his training kicking in as he joined the frantic efforts to stop the bleeding. The urgency of the situation drowned out any chance for a proper introduction.
She continued to work on the fallen soldier, determined to exhaust every possibility of life. Even as the others began to slow, she snapped at them, "Why are you stopping!?" The weight of loss and desperation fuelled her determination.
Roe, without thinking, followed her instructions as the small team frantically tried to stop the bleeding. She shouted out commands, her focus entirely on the task at hand. "Exercez une pression ! Nous avons besoin de plus de bandages ! Appelez le médecin ici !"
("Apply pressure! We need more bandages! Get the doctor over here!")
"Merde," she mumbled under her breath as the situation became increasingly dire. In a moment of desperation, she ripped her helmet from her head, revealing her disheveled, dirty, plaited hair.
Roe's gaze lingered on her, recognition slowly dawning on his features. Even with her red-raw, wind-burnt face covered in small scars and scrapes, and her red-tired eyes, there was something unmistakable about her. The realisation struck him like a sudden revelation in the midst of the war's brutality — the familiar face before him was someone from his past.
Thankfully, the bleeding had been stabilised, the wounded soldier was tagged and whisked away to a space on the floor.
"Y/n?" Roe whispered quietly, taking a step towards her.
Caught in the midst of her duties, she didn't immediately recognize Roe. " Yes? - Who are you?" she asked, glancing briefly in his direction.
He continued, "Uh, Eugene, Roe? - God, I haven't seen you since -"
"High school," She finished, her eyes widening in recognition. The weight of the years lifted as realisation dawned on her. Roe nodded, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips.
"What company?" She asked, attempting to wipe the drying blood off her hands.
"Easy. You?" Roe responded.
She smiled slightly. "Dog Company - damn, we're just down the road!"
The two chuckled quietly , Before they could delve into further conversation, she was summoned.
"Ma'am, we have to head back," one of the soldiers announced, urgency in his voice pulling them back to the harsh reality of their duties.
She exchanged a quick, apologetic glance with Roe. "I'll catch up with you later," she promised, her eyes reflecting a mix of emotions.
Roe nodded understandingly.
"Thank you! Stay safe, Doc. Hopefully, I'll see you soon!"
But they both knew the battlefield, with its relentless demands, wouldn't allow for long reunions.
As She hurriedly joined her team, they disappeared into the crowded church, leaving behind the echoes of a reunion that had been long overdue.
A/N: idk if I like this one but pt2 maybe?
#hbo war#band of brothers imagines#band of brothers#eugene roe#doc roe#Eugene roe imagine#doc roe imagine
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hi tysm for making BoB content lmao I live for it
If you’re comfortable making nsfw content, could you write about what kinks/things in the bedroom the boys would be into?
What kinks they would have (Easy Co. )
genre: Smut; romance
warnings: Asphyxiation, blindfolds, impact play, size kink, hickeys, dirty talk, etc.
MDNI (18+ please)
Dick Winters: I definitely see him being into anything romantic, he’s more on the vanilla side but he definitely knows that he’s doing, holding hands while fucking you is his favorite thing, he’s big on eye contact too, it’s so raw and intimate and it just makes it so much more intense. He also likes being praised, he probably doesn’t even realize that he does like it but whenever you do it, it gets him sooo weak.
Lewis Nixon: He’s more rough in the bedroom, he’s a total slut for when you take control, riding him or just you initiating stuff is his favorite thing ever. He likes pulling your hair, slapping, all that nasty stuff revolving impact play, but he never tries to over do it, in reality he’s just turned on by you in general, he’s willing to do almost anything if you ask him too. He’s a major whore for you and he knows it.
Carwood Lipton: He’s so soft and sweet, he takes his time whenever he’s with you, he loves seeing you in any type of cute lacy underwear, also skirts and sundresses, anything that can show your panties are his favorite. He just loves anything romantic with you, setting some candles and putting rose pedals all over the bed is a perfect start to a good evening.
Joe Toye: He’s so passionate no matter what. He’s into choking, not in the way where you can’t breathe at all, but he really enjoys just wrapping his big hand around your small neck, I also think he has some sort of size kink, he loves comparing your hands to his and he just loves the height difference between you two. He def likes power play too, seeing you under him helpless and he definitely loves being in control.
Joe Liebgott : Very romantic, constantly kissing you and keeping his hands on you, LOVES your tits too like omg it’s his fav thing ever, He’s very passionate too, leaving hickeys all over you. I think he would really like dirty talk, Like if you tried talking him through it, he’d probably cum so fast. He’s really into anything, whatever turns you on, turns him on too. Deep, passionate fucking is his absolute favorite, it doesn’t really matter where or anything after that.
Bill Guarnere : He’s into anything and everything. He likes being dominate and being rough though, throwing you around and fucking you as hard as he can. He likes dirty talk, whispering all kinds of dirty shit in your ear while you just take it. He has a rare sweet side in him too though, every once in a while he likes to switch things up, he’ll make the setting romantic and do absolutely anything you want, while being as soft as he possible can.
George Luz : I feel like he’s really into just watching you, all the facial expressions you make when he’s fucking you, the way you look when your horny, it’s his absolute favorite. After he does something, he always looks at you for your approval in your facial expressions. He’s also a big fan of dirty talk, when you say anything remotely dirty to him he gets turned on so quick it’s not even funny. He also love loves when you play with his hair omgggg.
Bull Randleman : He really likes it when you’re touchy, like rubbing your hand up and down his chest, or grabbing him by his jaw when your kissing him omg it gets him so flustered. Also it’s kind of random but he really likes it when you scratch or rub his back, like a sweet massage always turns into something more with him, feeling your soft small hands on him gets him all riled up. In any situation where you take control he likes too, it’s nice just sitting back and letting you take the reins every once and a while.
Eugene Roe: He really likes when you praise him in the bedroom, it just makes it so much more special when he feels appreciated. Like you telling him how handsome he is or how good he’s making you feel will always make him weak. I also think he’s a real sucker for eye contact, staring into your eyes while you come undone under him is a magical sight to see. It’s so much more intimate and special and he feels so close to you afterwards.
Floyd Talbert: He likes everything, this guy is a whore at heart, he love short dresses and tight shirts, quickies in the bathroom, sneaking around to fuck, hair pulling, leaving scratches all over his back from the night before, it’s all his favorite. He absolutely loves when you go cowgirl on him, riding him at full speed with the amazing sight of your tits in his face, he also loves when you leave hickies all over his body. He’s up for almost anything, all the time.
Skip Muck: He likes to keep it fun, I think he might like some type of voyeurism, watching you enjoy yourself or vise versa, he doesn’t like getting too serious, so maybe role play here and there to just spice it up every once and awhile. He’s pretty open on trying things if you’re into it too. His favorite which is kinda random, but it’s sneaking out to go fuck. whether it’s out on a picnic or somewhere more secluded, the fear of being caught always gives him a thrill.
Don Malarkey: He’s a service dom for sureee. He’s into being intimate with you, being close as possible to you while still giving you the pleasure you deserve. The thing that really turns him on is just seeing you turned on, you are his absolute fantasy come true, so when it comes to the bedroom, he doesn’t care what it is, as long as you like it he’s willing to do it. When you kiss his neck he becomes completely yours though, willing to do anything you ask him to.
Babe Heffron: Contrary to popular belief I think he’s probably more on the amateur side of things, so I think he would be into usual stuff, he likes doing anything that brings fun to the table, if it’s a little risky then he’s down to do it with you for sure. Quickies when no one’s around, and constantly leaving hickies and bruises all over you so that everyone can see them. He finds it super attractive everytime you wear something slightly suggestive, like it gets him weak sooo quick.
Shifty Powers: He’s so romantic with you, he’s just into you you’re his kink or his turn on, literally anything you do will make his heart flutter and he can’t help but feel some type of way when you do literally anything. He’s so into needy, unplanned sex, like the random kind where you guys both need each other so much that nothing else matters.
Frank Perconte: Likes anything that is passionate, he likes the power play stuff too, blindfolds or tying you up is something that he’s always down to try, I also think he’s a slut for a nice pair of lingerie, like if you come around him wearing any sort of lacy panties then it’s over for you LOL, he’s really romantic though, taking his time with your body and finding all of the right things that make you feel good is a priority for him.
Sorry if this isn’t so good, but thank you so much for your request, lovely! If you enjoyed make sure to like or reblog :)🤍
#band of brothers fluff#band of brothers smut#band of brothers#band of brothers headcanons#band of brothers preferences#band of brothers imagine#band of brothers recs#dick winters#lewis nixon#carwood lipton#joe toye#joe liebgott#bill guarnere#george luz#bull randleman#eugene roe#floyd talbert#skip muck#don malarkey#babe heffron#shifty powers#frank perconte
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