#hoosier smith x you
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Then and There, Wind in Your Hair (Bill “Hoosier” Smith x OC)
Pairing: Bill “Hoosier” Smith x Female OC (could be read as an un-named OC or a reader insert)
Summary: After their meeting in Melbourne, Hoosier writes a few letters, dreams a few dreams, and finds her again after coming home.
A/N: I know what you’re thinking - “Katie, aren’t you neck deep in your Masters of the Air hyper fixation?!” and the answer is yes, but I just had to write a companion piece to Clouds Overhead. You don’t have to read that one first, but some elements might make more sense if you do.
Disclaimer: I don’t own The Pacific. Please don’t repost, translate, or use this fic for AI without my permission.
And we both laid entwined, stared at the night
Clouds overhead, but that was all right
‘Cause then and there with the wind in your hair
Heaven was jealous to merely look fair against you
He can’t remember how many days it’s been since he was in Melbourne.
Sometimes, when he closes his eyes, he’s able to block out the rapid pounding of his heart and the distant ack-ack of machine gun fire and remember the sound of the waves on the beach, the feeling of her hair tickling his jaw.
There’s a part of him that’s worried he’s going to forget her face, though he’s not sure how that’s possible.
He’s worried about a lot of things. Worried is standard operating procedure these days.
They haven’t been able to get mail out in weeks, the shelling too intense for anything even resembling a CP or a supply depot to be set up, even behind the lines. The lines change rapidly in the Pacific, and he’s not sure he’s brave enough to try to find it even if he did have a letter to send to her.
He’s surprised when they’re finally taken off the line, and there’s mail waiting for him.
Bill, it starts, and he smiles, because she’s the first person in a long time that almost outright refuses to call him Hoosier.
Bill,
I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to see you off. The War Department has us all running around like chickens with our heads cut off getting ready for our next deployment.
I’m not sure where we’ll be going yet, and I probably wouldn’t be able to tell you if I did. I just hope wherever it is, it’s not as hot as it was in the Philippines when I was there.
Mostly, I hope this whole thing is over soon. I know it’s naïve of me. I signed up to go to war, and I don’t regret it, but I’m tired. I know you are too.
I hope wherever you are, you’re safe.
Thinking of you.
x
She signs it off with a metaphorical kiss, and he feels his heart kick into overdrive. He knows it’s dangerous, but he’s starting to dream about someday, and he can’t stop himself.
Surprisingly, the other guys don’t rag on him about it. They ask him a few questions, but they’re all so distracted about whatever’s coming next, there’s no thought about razzing anyone who’s finding a little slice of joy in anything outside of this hell hole.
He writes her back when he finally has a minute to think.
It’s been a long week, I think. He tells her.
I don’t really know how long it’s been since we were in Melbourne, but I think about it almost every day.
He wonders if he’s showing his hand too much, but he can’t help himself.
I hope you’re safe. I hope you’re far from the lines, wherever they are, and that things aren’t too bad. We were pulled off the line for a few days here, but I don’t think it’s going to last long.
“Hoosier.” Leckie says, voice hesitant like he hates to be the one to break him out of his letter writing. “We’re moving out.”
Bill sighs. Of course. Not a moment’s reprieve.
I think about you often. He scratches, hesitating only a moment. And I hope that’s okay with you, because it’s just about the only thing getting me out of the trench in the morning.
I hope you’re safe. I’m going to do my best to try to stay safe too.
Yours,
Bill
.
He writes to her nearly every day. He knows she’ll probably get a few of the letters all at once since the mail is so backed up, but he has nowhere else to put his thoughts, and it’s sending him half insane.
Most of his notes to her are mundane, stories about his guys and only a little bit about the mess going on in his brain. If she were here in person, he’s sure she’d look him dead in the eyes and demand he tell her what he’s thinking, but he tries to shield her from it, at least a little bit.
Her letters are the same, stories about the friends she’s making and at the bottom of one, a piece he rips off and shoves in his trunk - her address back home in Chicago.
Just in case something unexpected happens, I expect you to call on me, Private Smith. I’ll wait for you. There’s no one else.
It brands him like a tattoo right above his heart, on his breastbone where no one but him can see.
I’ll wait for you.
It’s the last thought he has right before it all goes to hell.
.
When he wakes up in a hospital a week later, he’s half out of his mind with exhaustion and morphine. Still, his first thought is of her.
He asks about her, and the nurse frowns at him. “No one here with that name, sugar. Sorry.”
Did he dream her?
Did his brain invent her just as a survival tactic to make it out alive?
When he sleeps, he does dream of her. He dreams of them. He dreams of that cookie cutter life with the white picket fence, and her smile. He pictures tangerine sunsets and a backyard barbecue. He pictures a little girl with her eyes and his smile.
When he wakes, he wishes he could fall back asleep.
He doesn’t get any mail, and he doesn’t have the time or the energy to write any letters himself. He’s hauled day after day into an empty room for rehabilitation, where a nice Lieutenant named Lanie listens to him curse a blue streak as he tries to put weight on his leg.
“Lanie, I’m beggin’ you to just write down that you saw me walk.”
She frowns. “No can do, Private. Besides, what good is that going to do you? Don’t want to get your dancing shoes on again someday?”
He snorts. “Who’s going to teach me how not to have two left feet?”
She shrugs. “I’ll do it. Or how about that girl you keep asking after? I bet she’d be a willing participant.”
He levels her with a hard gaze. “Lanie, if you know something...”
“Honest, Hoosier. I don’t know.” She leans in a little closer. “The hospital unit is still on the island and they’re socked in. I haven’t been able to get in touch with my friend there to ask her. You know how it can be.”
He sighs. “I know. Thanks for trying.”
“Now do me a favor, will you? Take a few steps so I can get rid of you and go eat some lunch.”
That night when he can’t sleep, he limps his way down to the mess. There’s a few other guys there, but he finds a table alone. Under dim light, he pens out another letter that he hopes makes it to her.
I’m in the hospital, he writes, his hand shaking a little bit from lack of use.
I have no idea if you’ll ever get this. I hope you do. I don’t want you to wonder.
What you told me in the last letter I got from you has kept me going. And it goes without saying (hopefully) that I’ll wait for you too.
Another nurse here, Lieutenant Elaine Meadows (don’t call her that, though, she’ll rip your head off. We call her Lanie) said she’ll keep her eyes and ears open for you if you ever make it here, or if one of your letters ever shows up here for me.
At the bottom is my home address in Indiana. Sorry to say, but I think I’ve got a ticket home.
If you find yourself stateside soon, and God, I really hope you do, please let me know.
I owe you a date.
Twelve weeks go by. He goes home. And between the agony of his leg and the mess inside his mind, Bill’s morale plummets.
He’s thrown back into the absolutely insane situation of having to find a job, but he can’t even fathom trying to work for someone so soon after fighting for his life. He has no idea how any of it makes sense anymore.
He almost sleeps through V-E Day, but manages to drag himself out of his bedroom and have a drink with his dad on V-J Day. They’re both quiet, out on the front porch of the house, listening to the revelry from the neighbors.
“You should get out of town for a few days.” His dad says, out of nowhere.
He frowns. “Pop?” He leans forward, wincing as he straightens his leg. “What do you mean?”
“You need-- you need to get your mind busy again. Take a break from all this, get your mind right, and decide what’s next.” He gives Bill a wry grin. “Besides, where’s that girl of yours, anyway?”
Bill feels himself pale. “I don’t--”
“Oh, don’t bother. You’re not a very good liar.”
Bill chuckles. “Guess not.” His hands tap out a rhythm on his knees, his body and mind unable to be still for too long these days. “Chicago.” He says finally. “She’ll be in Chicago.”
His dad nods. “Interesting.”
.
He still hasn’t heard from her by the time he makes up his mind to just go for it. He’s been seeing in the paper article after article about men and women coming home from overseas, and he just hopes that she’s one of them.
He really doesn’t know what he’s going to do if he shows up on her mother’s doorstep and she’s not there.
The train feels like it’s going slow as molasses. He sits among men and women in uniform, and he feels out of place. He fidgets. He eavesdrops on conversations about the war and about friends they used to know and what happened to them.
His palms start to itch.
When he arrives at Union Station, he only second guesses himself for a few moments before he seeks a taxi. The ride to the suburbs is nice, and he enjoys watching the trees change color the farther they get from the city. It seems to drag on and yet be over in a flash. He pays the driver, and gets out in front of a large house on a beautiful tree-lined street.
Bill’s hands are sweating. He hears chatter inside the large house, the windows open to let in the autumn breeze, and one voice in particular makes him stop in his tracks and shut his eyes briefly, trying to gather himself.
He knocks, takes a few steps back.
A screen door opens and shuts.
“Oh my god.”
He finally looks up.
.
They sit together on the back porch of her parent’s house, mugs of steaming coffee in their hands, her free hand tucked into his. Her eyes are closed, but the small smile on her lips proves she’s still awake.
He never thought he’d be here. He never thought he’d get this.
“Bill?”
“Hmm.”
“I’m--” she sits up, takes her hand out of his. He’s surprised to see her eyes filling with tears, and his heart kicks into overdrive.
“What?”
She smiles again. “Sorry. I’m okay, I just-- I can’t really believe we’re here.” She sniffs. “And I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be there for you when you needed me most.” She glances down at his long legs that are stretched out, crossed at the ankles.
He’s shaking his head before she can even finish her sentence. He straightens, turning sideways to face her. “You were there for me.” He reaches for her face, brushing a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “Whether you realized it or not, you were.”
“You didn’t even get a single one of my letters the whole time you were in the hospital--”
Ever since she opened the front door and ran into his arms, he’s felt more at ease than he ever did in Indiana. Despite his mother’s best efforts, he felt unsettled, and this was the final piece he was missing. Even if he had showed up and she apologized and told him it was just a fling, just a wartime romance never destined to go anywhere, at least he would have known.
But this -- this has the potential to heal him in ways he didn’t know he needed.
“Listen to me,” he says, voice soft but firm. “The thought of you kept me going. It kept me alive, as far as I’m concerned.”
Her face is a picture. Those doe eyes, a little drier now, looking up at him like he’s hung the moon for her. Doesn’t she know that he thinks that about her, too? He realizes with startling clarity that it’s very possible she has no clue.
“I’m in this,” he gestures between them, “If you are. You owe me a dance, after all.”
She grins, laughs. “I thought you had two left feet.”
He shrugs. “Well, maybe now I’ve got an excuse to be bad at it.”
“I’m in this too. All in.” She whispers. Their faces are so close she could tilt her head only a fraction and close the gap between them.
They linger there, in that so-close-but-not-close-enough state of almost euphoria so long that Bill starts to wonder if he didn’t die on that godforsaken airfield, and this is all something his mind has made up.
But then she finally kisses him, and it’s just as sweet as the first time, and it sends all his senses kicking into overdrive, and it just confirms it: he’s home.
.
A/N: If you’re craving more of their post-war reunion, a few of those lines are directly from this fic, which has a little more of that scene included.
#softspeirs the pacific fanfiction#bill hoosier smith x oc#hoosier smith x oc#bill smith x oc#the pacific fanfiction#the pacific fanfic#me: writing for hoosier in 2024? more likely than you think!!!!
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And I Lay Right Down in My Favorite Place (Bill "Hoosier" Smith x Reader)
Summary: The Australian heat has nothing on how you feel when you finally get Hoosier to yourself.
Note: Female reader, but no descriptors are used. Title comes from the song I Wanna Be Your Dog. This is based on the fictionalized characters in the miniseries and not the real individuals. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.
Word count: 3.2k
Warnings: Light period-typical misogyny. Obviously some historical inaccuracies. Sexually explicit content including oral sex (f. receiving) and some femdom elements. Do not interact if you’re under 18.
Your shadow cast abnormally long over Hoosier, his eyes scrunched shut as he slept in the rapidly setting Australian sun, curled up on his cot like a cat on a windowsill. If he had actually moved from that spot in the past few days, you would have felt bad waking him up. Except he hadn’t unless absolutely necessary, and so you attempted to disguise your selfish request as simple altruism.
“Hoosier, c’mon, we’re in Melbourne—civilization! You can’t just sleep through it. At least spend one night out so you don’t regret it.” He was unresponsive. “Please, for me?”
He snickered. “Even if I wanted to—which I don’t—I don’t have a pass.”
“I swiped an extra one. Look, everyone else ran off with some girl, and I have no one to go to bars with me tonight,” you said, stretching the truth a bit. Chuckler promised he’d look out for you in whatever little local dives you ended up in. For the most part, he had, but after a few drinks, he’d get distracted by a local girl, and you’d have to fend off equally drunk suitors without him as reliable backup.
“Fuck, alright,” he grumbled, pushing himself up from his cot, blanket still wrapped securely around his shoulders.
You shoved the dubiously acquired pass into his hand. “I just need to change, and—”
“Change?”
He stood up, the two of you staring each other down in an unspoken stand-off, waiting to see who would fold first.
“I bought a dress.”
“Don’t take too long or I’m going back to sleep.”
You ran to your cot, grabbing a paper shopping bag you’d shoved beneath it. A local boutique’s logo printed on the front, announcing your purchase of a flowing wrap dress that you couldn’t take your eyes off of in the shop. It didn’t take much convincing for you to buy it, and the unwavering confidence you felt while trying it on in the dressing room made a swift return when you ran into one of the locker rooms in the cricket stadium, changing in one of the stalls.
The plunging neckline had especially caught your attention, far from the conservative attire you’d usually wear as a Marine—though there had been strong opinions among some of the men toward your wearing pants, until Hoosier had asked them how the hell you were supposed to trek through the dense jungles in a skirt, which promptly shut most of them up.
Still, you bought the dress knowing full well it was an impractical, expensive purchase that wouldn’t make it out of Australia with you. The slip that you wore beneath it was a buttery soft satin that you never wanted to take off, nothing short of heavenly against your skin. You didn’t have much in the way of makeup or perfume, so you’d chosen a dress and some heels that could do most of the heavy lifting for you.
Your name echoed through the empty locker room, Hoosier calling out for you as his boots smacked against the tile floor. “Hey, you in here?”
“In the stall!” you shouted back.
The tap ran along with the sound of water splashing. “You sure there’s no one else around to go with you?”
“Leckie’s playing house with some girl from the trolley the other night, Sid’s with his girl Gwen, Chuckler’s god knows where, and Runner’s got a date with the shop assistant at the boutique I bought this from, so no,” you said, securely tying the wrap dress in place. “Look, if it’s that much of a bother, you can stay.” You shuffled out of the stall, your uniform folded and shoved in the shopping bag the dress had been in.
Hoosier whistled lowly when he saw you, quickly shaking his head. “Not while you’re wearing that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Means you’re showing about as much tit as the girls in those magazines.”
You straightened your back, giving yourself a once-over in the mirror above the sink. “That’s why I bought it.”
“It’s sure as hell working on me.”
“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you turned to him.
He folded his arms over his chest. “What made you think it wouldn’t?”
“You’ve seen me covered in mud and blood—I think I’ve even thrown up on you before.”
He grinned. “Gives you character.”
“So I spent my hard-earned money on this new dress for nothing?”
“Not for nothing. I wouldn't mind seeing how it looks coming off you.”
“Maybe somewhere nicer than a locker room?” you proposed.
“Now you’re gonna make me spend my hard-earned money just because you wanna fuck somewhere fancy?”
“I wanna fuck somewhere with a real bed, and privacy.”
“Sounds like you already have a place in mind.”
“I might," you said, taking his hand in your free one and leading him out of the cricket stadium.
Running down the streets of Melbourne with Hoosier sent a rush through you. Your dress flowing in the cool night breeze, the hem flirting around your thighs, each gust of wind threatening to give a peak of what lay beneath to passersby. For the first time in months, you felt like a woman, anticipation building in your gut as Hoosier kept his hand firmly around yours, bringing you closer to the night you’d been hoping for. The fact that it’d be with him was icing on the cake. Even though you were no longer relentlessly hounded for your answer of which member of H Company you would fuck if you absolutely had to—from day one, you’d pick Hoosier.
He really hadn’t been exaggerating about the dress, because when the two of you ran into Chuckler smoking outside of a bar, at least three whiskeys into his nightcap, he didn’t even recognize you. Instead, he shot a wink your way and congratulated Hoosier for ‘getting some.’ He had shouted something else your way when you and Hoosier were halfway up the street, nearing the hotel you’d seen on your shopping trip.
A tall, swanky building with valets outside, you tried not to gawk at the giant chandelier in the lobby, surely worth more than you’d make in your lifetime. You and Hoosier caught some odd glances from the people milling about, but some went out of their way to thank him. You bristled at the perceived slight until you remembered what you were wearing, your uniform hidden in the shopping bag in your hand.
A well-put together man stood behind the front desk, not bothering to pay either of you any mind until Hoosier cleared his throat.
“Good evening, sir. I’d like to book a room for one night for, uh, Lewis Juergens and guest.”
You nudged Hoosier with your elbow.
The manager looked you and Hoosier over with his lips pursed, as if he were resisting the urge to sneer. “We don’t tend to allow unmarried couples to share a room.”
You put on a charming smile and the best imitation of an Australian accent you could muster. “Just married. We’re honeymooning while we can. Gotta keep this one in line before I hand him back to the Marines.”
“I see,” he said, neither fully convinced by your story nor concerned enough to argue. “Mr. and Mrs. Lewis Juergens for one night, then?”
“That’s right,” Hoosier said. “Honey, why don’t you wait up for me?”
You kissed him, perhaps a bit more passionately than was acceptable in such an upscale establishment, but the desire in his eyes when you pulled away to wander over to the elevator was worth it.
He grinned as he walked over to you less than a minute later, holding up the room key. “Wait ‘til Chuckler finds out he’s married.”
“To a nice Australian girl to boot,” you said, pushing the elevator button.
“Nice girls don’t kiss like that.”
“Oops.”
When the doors opened, Hoosier told the operator to bring you to the seventh floor. You caught a glimpse of the room number engraved on the key’s tag. As soon as the doors opened, you rushed down the ornate hallway in search of the room. He seemed to take his sweet time walking over, amused by the scowl on your face.
"You know, I think I might've forgotten something downstairs—"
"Hoosier, I swear to god."
He snickered as he unlocked the door, ushering you inside.
You pushed Hoosier against the door when he locked it behind him, kissing him with a ferocity that shocked him for a moment before he came to his senses. The kiss was overtaken by the desperate clashing of teeth and tongue, a long repressed primal urge rearing its ugly head as you pressed yourself against him. Before that night, you’d considered the situation you found yourself in little more than a foolish yet pleasant fantasy, doubting he wanted you as much as you wanted him. His vulgar quips toward you had blended with the others you’d gotten used to, learned to take in stride. They were all talk, anyway. The way his hands kneaded your ass through the flimsy material of your dress proved otherwise.
“How much did you spend on this?” he asked, voice husky with desire.
You threw the shopping bag aside, paying no mind to how it fell over on its side. “You don’t wanna know.”
“Five bucks?”
“Higher.”
“Ten?”
“Higher.”
“Shit, I better make this worth your while, then.”
“You will,” you said, catching his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging on it ever so slightly.
Your hand half-wrapped around his neck, you pressed your thumb against the base of his throat while you sucked and bit on a patch of skin just beneath his collarbone. No one would notice unless they really looked for it, like you would over the next few days, your eyes inevitably drifting to where you staked your claim on him.
He leaned against the door, breathing heavily while you left your mark on his skin, slightly tanned by days in the relentless tropical sun. Your hand drifted up to caress his cheek, your thumb brushing his lower lip. He took the digit in his mouth, and you gasped when he began sucking on it.
“You’ve got everyone else fooled, you know that?” you murmured, softly kissing the corner of his lips. “Sleeping all day like you’re above it all, when you’re a bigger slut than the rest of them.” You palmed him through his pants, his hard cock straining against the fabric, earning a muffled moan from him.
When he reached for your hips, you pulled your thumb from his mouth and grabbed his wrists just as quickly, pinning them on either side of him.
“If you want me, you gotta work for it.”
He groaned. “Jesus, you’re mean.”
“I know, but I think you like that,” you said. “Do you like that?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered without hesitation.
You released his wrists from your grasp, kicking off your heels as you walked back to sit on the edge of the bed. “Then show me how much you want me.”
He sank to his knees before you without hesitation. He would have looked almost pious if his hands were clasped together instead of pulling your panties and stockings down to your ankles, his tongue darting out from between his lips as you spread your legs. He’d seen you before, though, not this intimately, but close enough. Privacy was a scarce resource, and so modesty packed its bags along with it. You’d conquered shame on those islands, perhaps the first woman to do so. Maybe that could be included in Lady Marines’ recruiting materials—put the church out of business, be naked and unashamed.
With a frustrated groan, you pulled off the wrap dress, hearing it tear as you were too impatient to untie it properly. The soft, patterned fabric pooled around Hoosier’s knees. He pushed your slip up around your hips, his calloused fingers drifting down between your opened legs. His rough touch electrified you, your legs seizing a bit when he started rubbing your clit with the pads of his fingers, watching intently as your face contorted in pleasure.
His hands gripped your thighs as he ducked his head between your legs, slowly dragging his tongue up your leaking slit until his lips reached your clit, sucking it while he slipped his fingers inside you. Leaning back on the bed, comforter balled up in your hands, your arms strained to support you as he ate you out, lust clouding your reason, your climax just achingly out of reach, like he was doing it on purpose.
“Don’t fucking stop,” you ordered through gritted teeth, your hand buried in his hair, keeping his face pressed against your pussy. His teeth grazed your clit, and your pussy clenched around his fingers when he flicked his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your back arched, pleasure cracking down your spine like a whip as you came with a moan that echoed in your ears. “Hoosier—Bill—oh my god—” His tongue lapped up your wetness as you rode out your orgasm on his face.
He moved back from between your legs, hair unkempt and face flushed, his mouth and chin glistening in the low light.
“I wish I had a camera,” you sighed, affectionately running your fingers through his messy hair. “You look perfect.”
“Yeah?” he asked, almost dazed.
You nodded. “Like a wet dream.”
He moved to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, but you grabbed his wrist before he could.
“Don’t,” you said, a little harsher than you intended. “I wanna see how I taste.”
When he stood up, you took his face in your hands, kissing him deeply, taking in the taste of yourself on his tongue, his lips. The sensation sent an irrational, possessive urge through you, greedy for more of him, as much as he’d give you—and only you.
“You got a condom?” you asked breathlessly against his mouth.
“If I don’t, I’m gonna kill somebody,” he grumbled, searching his pockets for one.
Salvation in his front shirt pocket, he held one up triumphantly.
With shaky hands, you unbuttoned his shirt, frustrated by how much he was wearing compared to you—for once. Usually you were the one overdressed, sneaking glances of envy and admiration whenever he was shirtless. He had never caught you, or at least he never let on that he had. You reveled at finally having your hands on him the way you wanted, the way that’d make you curl your hands into fists, digging your broken fingernails into your palms to distract from how frustratingly out of reach he was on those islands.
Your slip came off over your head much easier than the dress, and soon a pile of discarded clothes was kicked to the wayside as he joined you on the bed.
You stroked his cock, his hips jerking at your touch.
“It’s been a while,” he offered as an explanation for how his body reacted. As if he needed to, as if you weren’t on the verge of pouncing on him at that very moment.
“I don’t care. I want you inside me, Hoosier. I wanna feel you when you come.”
He groaned, chewing on his bottom lip. “Oh fuck.”
You kissed him, practically swallowing the groan that emerged from his throat when he plunged his cock inside you, your cunt clenching around him as he filled you.
He pressed his forehead against yours, his gaze locked on your eyes as you struggled to keep them open with each thrust in your pliant pussy, taking him deeper with each stroke.
“Fuck—I’m close,” he barely managed to force out, his cock twitching as he neared orgasm.
“I got you, baby,” you whispered, your lips soft against the shell of his ear as his thrusts slowed and became erratic as he bottomed out inside you.
He gave you a sloppy kiss, taking a few moments to catch his breath before pulling out of you. “Fuck,” he murmured, mostly to himself.
You curled up beneath the covers as he got up to discard the used condom.
“Jesus Christ, they’re gonna think someone tried to decapitate me,” he said from the bathroom.
“Sorry!”
“Don’t be. Maybe I can claim some rare jungle illness and get a few extra days off.”
You scoffed, smiling when he got into bed next to you, pulling you against him. “Yeah, you and every other Marine running around Melbourne.”
“Hotel room was a good call,” he said softly, nuzzling his nose against the crown of your head. “Fuck, I’m gonna be dreaming about this on the next shithole island they dump us on.” He was quiet for a moment. “Never thought that’d get me going, you bossing me around and all.”
“Something about you brought that out,” you said. “I don’t know, I feel like I’d go crazy if another woman touched you.”
“I’ll make sure to warn ‘em.”
You barked out a laugh, hiding your face in the crook of his neck before resting your head on his shoulder. “How about you? Most guys think eating out is degrading.”
“Because they’re fucking idiots.”
“I won’t argue with that.”
The two of you talked well into the night before falling asleep, only to be awoken at ten in the morning by a phone call from the front desk, informing you that if you didn’t check out within the hour, you’d be charged extra.
“Can we put it on Chuckler’s tab?” Hoosier grumbled, reluctantly getting out of bed.
“I wish,” you said, hastily freshening up in the bathroom.
“What’re you gonna do with that dress?” he asked. “Can’t take it with you.”
You shrugged, glancing at the torn, wrinkled garment. “I guess I’ll just leave it here.”
And you did, leaving it behind as you slipped out of the hotel room first. Wearing your uniform, far less comfortable than what you’d been wearing the day before, would inevitably draw unwanted attention to you and Hoosier if you left together, especially if you were seen by any number of fellow Marines who were prone to running their mouths. That, or the same haughty manager could have been behind the front desk again.
By the time Hoosier caught up with you at the cricket stadium, Chuckler was already there, sitting on your cot with you as he told you all about his escapades the night before. His attention quickly shifted to Hoosier.
“Hey, who was that cute broad you were with the other night? The one in the slinky dress?” Chuckler asked as he pulled on his boots. “Was she any good?”
Hoosier glanced at you, a smile tugging on his lips. “She was a real nympho. Tore off her dress and everything.” Your eyes widened when he held up a scrap of fabric clearly ripped from your now discarded dress. Chuckler grabbed for it, but Hoosier kept it just out of reach. “Woulda thought she was in heat or something”
You kicked his boot.
He snickered.
Chuckler didn’t notice the silent exchange, instead huffing out, “Man, I gotta get me a girl like that.”
“Gonna have to look somewhere else,” Hoosier said, eyes on you as he pocketed the torn piece of your dress. “This one’s mine.”
#'im gonna be normal on this blog' so basically that was a lie#bill hoosier smith x reader#hoosier smith x reader#hoosier x reader#the pacific x reader#the pacific#hoosier smith#the pacific fanfic#hbo war
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You Before Me
Bill 'Hoosier' Smith x Reader
Masterlist
A/N: hiiii! this is my first ever hoosier fic, so please let me know what y'all think!! i've recently become obsessed with jacob pitts lol! this is about the fictional portrayal of the H company boys. i have nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!
Summary: During the battle for the Peleliu Airfield, (y/n) and Bill are separated after both being injured by a mortar shell.
Word Count: 3.2k
Warnings: injuries, blood, straight angst with fluff
PELELIU AIRFIELD: SEPTEMBER, 1944
Ringing.
It was all that filled (y/n)’s senses, drowning out the surrounding chaos. She could taste the acrid tang of smoke in the air, making her cough and struggle to catch her breath. Everything seemed hazy and distorted, the world spinning around her. Blinking, she tried to clear her vision and make sense of what was happening. Dust and dirt swirled in the air, making it hard to see beyond a few feet. She lay on her back, helmet long gone, trying to remember what had led to that moment.
They were taking the airfield.
Hoosier was with her and then–BILL!
“Bill,” she croaked weakly, blindly reaching out for him with a shaky hand, finding nothing but dirt and rocks. She rolled onto her side to look for him, but the movement caused white-hot pain to shoot through her body, sending sharp jolts of agony up her left leg. The pain was fierce, radiating from her ankle and calf. Every motion seemed to intensify the pain, making her grit her teeth as she sat up on her elbows, her eyes nervously drifting to her legs. (Y/n)’s eyes widened as she took in the damage. Her left calf was littered with shrapnel, and her ankle was turned at an unnatural angle, both oozing with blood.
She took a nervous gulp, throwing her head back against the rocks of the crater.
This was not good.
Taking a shuttering breath, she called out again. “Bill, are you there?
Through the ringing, she heard a pained grunt from her left. She recognized the sound instantly, and her heart fell, tears glistening in her eyes.
“Bill!” she cried into the haze, panic gnawing at her as she searched frantically for him. She prayed the smoke would clear and she’d see him looking back at her, unscathed with his signature lopsided smirk, but answers to prayers aren’t always what we’d like them to be. Through the smoke, she spotted his still form to her left, sprawled out on his stomach, his face etched in pain. Her heart lurched with both relief and fear. When she spotted the growing red stain on his lower thigh, the relief disappeared.
“No, no, no,” (y/n) whispered to herself before raising her voice. “Bill? Can you hear me?”
Summoning every ounce of strength, she rolled over and began to crawl to him, dragging her injured leg behind her. As she forced herself to crawl towards him, her breaths came out in ragged gasps, chest heaving with the effort to overcome the searing torment. The muscles in her leg protested every inch of progress, and she gritted her teeth, trying to muffle the pained sounds that left her lips. (Y/n)’s broken ankle got caught on a particularly sharp rock, and she whimpered involuntarily, a low, guttural sound escaped her as she clutched the rocky ground for support.
Pushing through the pain, she extended a trembling hand, her fingers brushing against his uniform, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath. He’d managed to pull himself forward, flipping over and propping himself up against the rocky wall of the crater, pained grunts filling the air. His breaths were shallow and ragged, eyes barely open as he fought to stay conscious.
When he managed to pry them open further, they were clouded with pain and drowsiness, wandering aimlessly for a moment before attempting to find (y/n)’s gaze. He saw her face above him, her lips moving rapidly, but he couldn’t quite understand what she was saying.
“You’re okay, hon. You’re okay,” (y/n) whispered, painfully sitting up beside him and putting pressure on his wound. His slick blood coated her hands as she pushed with all her remaining strength. As Hoosier lazily looked up at her, his senses slowly came back to him.
“(Y/n),” he mumbled. “I dropped my weapon.”
“It’s a-alright, Bill,” she whimpered, the pain in her ankle and leg flaring, sending waves of dizziness and nausea through her. The pain seemed to meld with the fog of fatigue, weighing down her limbs and blurring her focus. (Y/n)’s eyelids became heavy, as if someone had placed weights on them. She blinked forcefully, attempting to stay alert.
“Shit,” she groaned, her eyes drooping as her strength dissipated, the pressure on his leg lessening. Just as she felt herself slipping away, a familiar voice cut through the chaos.
“Oh, Bill. (Y/n),” Bob called, and seconds later, he was by their side, his eyes taking in the carnage before him. He had arrived just in time to take over the task of applying pressure on Bill’s wound, giving (y/n) a much-needed break. She let out a shuddering breath, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her as she fell against the rocky wall of the crater beside Hoosier.
“Corpsman!” Leckie screamed. “Corpsman!”
(Y/n) watched through a haze of drowsiness as Bill clenched his eyes and leaned his head back, breathing heavily. She shakily reached out for his hand, intertwining their fingers gently. His once strong hand now felt almost limp and lifeless in her grasp, and she squeezed it in an effort to keep him awake.
“We’re gon’ be alright, ” she strained.
Glancing at her leg, Bob’s eyes widened and he quickly moved one hand off Hoosier’s wound to get a better look at the damage, but she weakly pushed his hand away.
“No, Bob,” she rasped, her voice hoarse and filled with worry. “Bill…Please, help Bill first. He’s h-hurt worse than I am. I’ll be okay, just…take care of him.”
Bill flopped his head to the side to look at her with concern in his half-lidden eyes. “No,” he grunted. “(Y/n/n), no.”
Leckie shook his head, trying to help her again. “Your leg, (y/l/n)!” he exclaimed. “You’re gonna-”
“Bob,” she interrupted, her eyes lowering to Bill’s wound, tears in her eyes. “I know. Help Bill.”
With a frustrated growl, Leckie brought his hand back to Hoosier’s thigh. “Corpsman!” he yelled again. “Hey, everything’s gonna be fine, you two. It ain’t shit. Everything’s gonna be fine.”
Bill lifted his head for a moment, lazily licking his lips before peering down at (y/n), his gaze traveling down to her foot and its horrific position. “Darlin’,” he breathed. “Your foot.”
“I’m fine, Bill.”
Bob felt his heart tear seeing the usually spunky couple in such a pitiful state. “It ain’t shit,” he reassured. “You’re both gonna be fine.”
Hoosier’s eyes drifted closed, and (y/n) shared a panicked look with Bob. “Damn it! Corpsman! Stay awake! Both of you.”
She nodded feebly, her grip on Bill’s hand tightening as she fought to stay conscious. Pain and exhaustion weighed heavily on her, but she knew she had to be there for Bill. She struggled to keep her eyes open, blinking against the weariness that threatened to pull her into the darkness. After a minute that crawled by like hours, two corpsmen slid down into the hole. One of them quickly evaluated the situation and dropped down beside Bill, barking orders at Leckie as the other knelt beside (y/n), speaking gently. “Ma’am we’ve gotta get him stabilized. We’re gonna take him first, but we’ll be back for you, I promise.
(Y/n)’s chest tightened at the words, and she nodded weakly.
“Bill?” she heard Bob mutter from beside her. “Bill?”
Her unfocused gaze flew over to his face, watching as he lost his battle against unconsciousness, his eyes fluttering shut, whispering, “Sorry.” (Y/n) felt his grip go limp, and her eyes widened in fear and desperation. She released his hand and shook his shoulder, her voice trembling.
“Bill, no, please,” she pleaded, her words choked with emotion.
“Help me carry him back,” a corpsman stated, roughly looping his arms under Bill’s shoulders and lifting him with the help of the other corpsman. (Y/n)’s eyes never left them as they quickly carried him out of the crater. The second they left her view, she felt a sudden rush of adrenaline leaving her body. The pain from her injuries hit her anew, and every ache and throb seemed to intensify twofold. She groaned, closing her eyes tightly.
Bob turned and put pressure on (y/n)’s trembling thigh. He urged her to breathe, to focus on anything but the pain, but the agony was now all over her body.
“Focus on my voice, (y/n),” Bob implored, his voice shaking. “Hoos would kill me if I let anything happen to ya, so you’ve gotta stay awake for me, sweetheart.”
Spots danced in her vision and her eyelids drooped as she began to drift away into the darkness that was invading. “Stay with me, (y/n),” Bob replied, pushing more of his weight onto her leg. “They’re coming back! Stay awake!”
USS SAMARITAN (AH-10): SEPTEMBER, 1944
It had been a long few days since Bill had woken up groggy from the fog of his pain medications. The medical ship rocked subtly beneath him as he lay in his cot, an itchy blanket covering him. He was going out of his mind looking at nothing but the gray steel of the ship’s interior and hearing the moans and cries of his fellow Marines.
Since the moment he’d woken up, he’d been asking about (y/n). He asked nurses, other wounded marines, and anyone he could get a hold of. After four days of this, anxiety settled into his stomach, and he decided to search for her himself. He scanned the room for nurses before swinging his legs over the side of the bed, wincing at how it pulled on his wound. The man in the bed beside him was dead asleep, so he snatched his crutches and used his left leg to push himself off the bed. Bill smirked as he slowly started toward the hallway, but his plan came to a screeching halt when he heard a voice behind him.
“Just where do you think you’re going, private?”
He sighed and turned around, coming face to face with one of his nurses, Evelyn, who wore a disapproving expression.
“Just going to the bathroom,” he lied, nodding toward the door.
“Really?” Evelyn asked, amusement lacing her tone as she pointed to the opposite side of the room. “Because the bathroom’s that way.”
“Fine,” Bill grumbled under his breath. “You caught me. I need to find someone.”
“So what’s the lucky girl’s name?” she asked, helping Bill back into the bed.
“How’d you know I was lookin’ for a woman?”
She smiled. “The look in your eyes.”
A fond smile formed on his lips as he replied. “Corporal (Y/n) (y/l/n). She’s my best friend.”
“Just a best friend?” Evelyn smirked, peering down at him with a skeptically raised eyebrow. “Sounds like she’s more than that to you, marine.”
“She is,” he chuckled. “I’m lucky to have her.”
After a moment, his expression fell and his eyes drifted to the stark white bandages on his leg. “We both got hit by the same mortar,” he said softly. “I don’t know what happened to her.”
Evelyn placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’ll see what I can find out for you.”
Looking up at her with glossy eyes, Hoosier cleared his throat. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Another day passed, and there was still no word on (y/n) or her condition, and Bill became even more desperate. Later in the day, he saw Evelyn in the corner of his eye and waved her over.
“Ma’am,” Bill called out to her, his voice tight with worry. “Have you found her yet?”
Evelyn smiled gently and shook her head. “Sorry, private. No luck yet,” she sighed. “But I’ll keep asking around.”
He hung his head with a sigh, closing his eyes as he sunk back down onto the bed, bringing up a hand to run it down his face.
“I do have some good news, though,” she announced, getting a wheelchair from the corner. “We’re going on a trip to the top deck, and I think it’ll help you feel better.”
Bill grunted, turning onto his side and facing away from her. “No thanks.”
“Come on, private. Trust me,” Evelyn encouraged, her voice persuasive.
He hesitated for a moment, then sighed and relented. With a little help, he eased into the wheelchair. As they made their way to the top deck, he couldn’t help but be disinterested, his thoughts consumed by worry for the woman he loved. Once they reached the top deck, Bill was lost in his thoughts, absentmindedly watching the unending sea before him.
Evelyn pushed his wheelchair to a quiet spot, hoping the openness and fresh air would ease his worries. “It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?” she asked, taking a deep breath.
Bill gave a faint nod but remained lost in his thoughts. As the sun caressed the deck with its warm embrace, he basked in its gentle rays, closing his eyes to fully immerse himself in the comforting warmth. The distant sounds of the ship and the gentle lull of the waves created a calming aura around him, temporarily easing the weight of the world from his shoulders. He thought of the last time he’d felt so relaxed: It had been beside (y/n) as they laid out on the beach in Melbourne, not a care in the world.
The distinct sound of a wheelchair being pushed beside him broke Bill from his memory, and a flicker of annoyance tinged his moment of peace. He wondered who was being wheeled so close. When he opened his eyes, however, annoyance quickly turned to a surge of relief and elation. There, right beside him, was (y/n) in a wheelchair, her head tilted toward him in a peaceful slumber. The second he saw her sleeping form, it was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, the knot in his chest finally loosening. The anxiety and fears that had plagued him for days now seemed to disappear.
He found himself captivated by the soft curve of her lips and the way they seemed to hold a hint of a smile even in her dreams. They were lips he’d kissed a thousand times, each one bringing back a fond memory. Bill reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, tracing the delicate line of her jaw with his eyes. His heart swelled as he admired her every feature, from the sweep of her lashes to the graceful arc of her eyebrows. Hoosier couldn’t help but glance down at her foot, finding it wrapped in a large cast that reached from her toes to her knee. His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he watched her, completely overwhelmed with emotion.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” he smiled, his hand tenderly cupping her jaw as his thumb gently rubbed against her cheek.
(Y/n)’s unconscious mind seemed to recognize the touch, and she leaned into his hand, a contented sigh escaping her lips. “Five more minutes,” she murmured sleepily. “I’m having a good dream.”
Bill chuckled softly, his gaze soft as he admired her peaceful form. “Well, darlin’, what dream could possibly be better than me?”
As if in response, her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the light as her eyes met his ocean-blue eyes. “Am I still dreaming?” she asked softly, a sparkle of hope lighting up her eyes.
Hoosier shook his head, his voice filled with reassurance. “No, (y/n/n), you’re not dreamin’.
“Are you sure?”
“I know how I can prove it to ya,” he grinned.
He leaned over and gently placed a kiss on her lips as undeniable proof that he was truly before her. His hand remained tenderly on her jaw, his touch grounding her spinning mind. As he pulled away, they rested their foreheads against each other. A radiant smile graced her lips as she fully registered her presence, his loving gaze warming her heart. “Bill,” she whispered, feeling his warm breath on her face.
He grinned back at her, his eyes reflecting the same joy and relief she felt in that moment. “Hey there, beautiful. “How’s my favorite girl doin’?
“Better now that you’re here,” she replied, her eyes shining.
Bill pulled back slightly, intertwining their hands before he looked down at her foot, concern etched on his features. “How’s your leg feeling?”
“I should be asking you that,” she scoffed, shaking her head at his tough-guy attitude.
He rolled his eyes, a playful smirk gracing his lips. “Answer the question, woman.”
“It aches. My ankle was broken in three places, so I’ll be in this cast for a while and then crutches for months after that. How are you? You scared me to death, Bill.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted nonchalantly with a shrug.
(Y/n) pointed to his bandaged thigh, a teasing glint in her eyes. “I have eyes, ya know.”
“Piece of shrapnel nicked my fe-female-femorum…whatever that artery is,” Bill remarked, struggling to find the right words.
Breaking out into a laugh, she squeezed his hand. “It’s femoral, hon. You were so close.”
“Whatever it is,” he chuckled. “It wasn’t shit. Just like Leckie said.”
Her smile faltered slightly, and she turned her gaze from his face to the vast ocean before them. “So you remember what happened?”
Bill followed her gaze. “Some of it,” he admitted, his voice dropping. “I remember you tellin’ Bob to help me instead of you…I can’t believe you did that.”
“I’ll always put you before me. Always,” she affirmed, their eyes meeting in a solemn gaze.
“I feel the same,” he whispered. “But please don’t do that again. For my sanity.”
Hearing sniffles behind them, they craned their heads back, following the sound. Behind them stood Evelyn and (y/n)’s nurse, Jackie, with tears glistening in their eyes.
“Y’all are just too precious,” Evelyn exclaimed, her voice laced with elation as she wiped a tear off her cheek.
(Y/n) glanced at Bill, trying to hold back a laugh at his surprised expression. “You won’t be saying that when he starts to get all grouchy,” she joked, earning a playful scoff from him. “But really, thank you both so much. We really mean it.”
Jackie beamed. “Of course. We’re glad to have helped you two find each other again. Y’all will have a great story to tell your kids someday.”
Bill, though not one to easily show his emotions, found himself touched by their kindness. He cleared his throat, his gratitude evident in his eyes. “Thanks,” he mumbled, a hint of newfound shyness coloring his words.
“We’ll leave you to it,” Evelyn smiled as she and Jackie walked away to help another patient.
The couple turned back to the front with their hands still intertwined, and neither of them spoke for a moment as they stared out at the vast sea. The soothing sounds of the waves lapping against the ship’s hull filled the air.
“This kind of reminds me of that day at the beach,�� she mused, looking over at him with a sly grin.
“Oh absolutely,” he retorted, his signature sarcasm making an appearance. “Except for the part where we’re fully clothed, surrounded by stinking marines, and half blown to hell. So, you know, I’d say it’s just like that day.”
(Y/n) rolled her eyes and squeezed his hand, bringing it to her lips. “Damn, I love you,” she drawled.
“Good, ‘cause you ain’t ever getting rid of me, darlin’.”
Tag List: @softguarnere @mrsgeorgeluz @flowers-and-fichte @inglourious-imagines @peggyvan @rebeccapearson @hxad-ovxr-hxart @merriell-allesandro-shelton @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @titiglt @stvrkdream @multifandomfanfic @starlordsatellite @blvestxr @iceman-kazansky @bucky32557038ww2
message or comment if you want to be added to the tag!
#hbo war#the pacific#the pacific x reader#the pacific imagines#the pacific imagine#bill smith#bill hoosier smith#hoosier smith#hoosier smith x reader#hoosier smith imagine#hoosier smith imagines#bill smith x reader#bill smith imagine#bill smith imagines#bill hoosier smith x reader#bill hoosier smith imagine#bill hoosier smith imagines#hoosier x reader#hoosier imagines#hoosier imagine#the pacific x y/n#hbo war imagine#hbo war fanfic#hbo war x reader#bill hoosier x reader#bill hoosier imagine#bill hoosier imagines#1st marines#h company#bill hoosier
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Songs which contain the secret:
Just by Radiohead
Yes by Coldplay
Hush by Deep Purple
Crucify by Tori Amos
For My Lover by Tracy Chapman
Waterloo Sunset by The Kinks
Songs which don't know they contain the secret:
Broken Hearted Melody by Sarah Vaughan
Whipping Post by The Allman Brothers
SW by Blonde Redhead
Semi-Automatic by O Mer
Lent by Autoheart
Pissing In A River by Patti Smith
Songs which are waiting for you to tell them:
Mess by Ben Folds
A Distorted Reality Is A Necessity To Be Free (demo version) by Elliott Smith
Drop The Pilot by Joan Armatrading
You've Got The Love by Florence + The Machine
Songs which are still searching for it:
42 by Coldplay
Hotel California by The Eagles
Jigsaw Falling Into Place by Radiohead
Blood Makes Noise by Suzanne Vega
Worried About Ray by The Hoosiers
Songs which wish they knew it:
Kill V. Maim by Grimes
TALES OF DOMINICA by Lil Nas X
They ache for it:
Pulaski At Night by Andrew Bird
I Think I'm Gonna Kill Myself by Elton John
Songs which once knew it, but then the secret changed:
Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen
Feeling Good by Nina Simone
Pavlov's Bell by Aimee Mann
Songs which are just as surprised as you are by what they find inside themselves:
I Need My Girl by The National
Turn The Page by Bob Seger
Sister Golden Hair by America
Plainclothes Man by Heatmiser
Songs which know, but will never tell you:
Tomorrow Is Today by Billy Joel
I Can't Tell You Why by The Eagles
Ooh by Scissor Sisters
Songs which will tell you, given time:
Over My Shoulder by MIKA
Beyond The Sea by Bobby Darin
Songs which don't contain the secret, but if you never listen to them, the others won't tell you:
The Bends by Radiohead
Journey Of The Sorcerer by The Eagles
Songs which make you glad you don't know it:
Lost In The Citadel by Lil Nas X
Fast As You Can by Fiona Apple
I Love You Goodbye by Thomas Dolby
Songs which were imbued with it by mistake and won't give it back:
Strawberry Swing (cover) by Frank Ocean
Night Shift by Lucy Dacus
Humpty by Mitski
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sal // i like to write, so i write. and i hope you enjoy. <3
band of brothers // masters of the air // more to come.
oc fics + readers inserts. very much still figuring out what this blog should be, so do bare with me. :') for now though, these are my works:
BAND OF BROTHERS
dick winters
drabbles//shorter fics
in the strangers we meet // angsty fluff, comfort
don malarkey
drabbles//shorter fics
poop-colored paint and forehead kisses // fluff, smidge of angst
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
eugene roe
drabbles//shorter fics
his heart, in the silence // his pov to all is fair, but matters of the heart // fluff, angst
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
joe liebgott
all is fair, but matters of the heart // joe doesn't quite know why he's even fighting the war anymore, until she starts to give him reason.
fluff, angst || joe liebgott x oc (amy calloway)
extras: 'cause you smell like home
drabbles//shorter fics
sometimes, it's hard to be good // comfort fluff
joe toye
drabbles//shorter fics
joe toye gets a pleasant surprise (oc fic) // fluff
MASTERS OF THE AIR
benny demarco
series: little sunshine fires // marnie requests a transfer to the 100th bomb group to stay close to her reserved pilot of a brother, buck cleven. it's the last thing she expects, when she starts to anticipate another man's return to safety from the skies, nearly just as much.
ch. 1 // ch. 2 // (ongoing)
fluff, angst || benny demarco x oc (marnie cleven)
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
john brady
drabbles//shorter fics
an ode to your scars // angsty fluff
THE PACIFIC
andrew "ack-ack" haldane
drabbles//shorter fics
the mornings with you // angst (oc fic)
bill "hoosier" smith
hoosier x oc (claire halston)
in the tram, i found you // fluff, the meet
#band of brothers#masters of the air#band of brothers x oc#masters of the air x oc#band of brothers x reader#masters of the air x reader#the pacific x oc#the pacific
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WIP Ask / Tag Game
Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.
Walk the Earth with Eyes Turned Skyward: Everett Blakely x Grace Linden (OFC)
Precious Broken Things: Bill "Hoosier" Smith x Night (OFC)
Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then, tag as many people as you have WIPs.
Thanks for the tag, @spinteresting and @ginabaker1666
So many wonderful writers I could tag but I've only got two WIPs and one of them's been stalled for three years
Tagging @basilone @shoshiwrites
No pressure, just join in if you want to!
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Writing List
Here are every requests currently sitting in my inbox so you can be sure I've received your request (Thank you to everyone who has send me one by the way 🥰)
Band Of Brothers
Joseph Liebgott x Plus Size!Reader (Anonymous)
The Pacific
Hoosier Smith + “I apologise sincerely if my handsome/beautiful face has kept you awake all night.” (@sweetxvanixlla)
Masters of the Air
Bucky Egan + Angst set during the war (Anonymous)
Bucky Egan + "Tolerate It" by Taylor Swift (Anonymous)
Bucky Egan + Nurse!Reader (@godriots)
Masterlist Prompts List (Requests are currently open for Hoosier Smith and John "Bucky" Egan ;) )
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George Karim Aesthetic Playlist
Lockwood & Co Playlist
Anthony Lockwood Playlist
Lucy Carlyle Playlist
Locklyle Playlist
The Scientist (Coldplay) // It's Alright (Mother Mother) // Eat You Alive (The Oh Hellos) // Rules (The Hoosiers) // 715 - CRΣΣKS (The Nor'easters) // Think (Kaleida) // Freaks (Surf Curse) // The Lament of Eustace Scrubb (The Oh Hellos) // Brother (Gerard Way) // Life in Technicolor (Coldplay) // Dearly Departed (feat. Esme Patterson) // The Devil You Know (X Ambassadors) // Tear The Fascists Down (Woody Guthrie) // Black Water (Of Monsters and Men) // Bigmouth Strikes Again (The Smiths) // Where Is My Mind? (Pixies) // Wisdom (Mother Mother) // The Garden (The Crane Wives) // Creep (Radiohead) // Talk (Coldplay) // I Of The Storm (Of Monsters and Men) // Mykonos (Fleet Foxes) // Implicit Demand For Proof (Twenty One Pilots) // My Mirror Speaks (Death Cab for Cutie) // Allies or Enemies (The Crane Wives) // Hieroglyphs (The Oh Hellos) // 1984 (Devarrow) // Upside Down (Jack Johnson) // Old Friends (Coldplay) // Golden Brown (The Stranglers)
#lockwood & co#lockwood and co#george karim#aesthetic playlist#george cubbins#lockwood netflix#georgie
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Shirt Incident
William Hoosier Smith x GN!Reader
Requested by: @alienoresimagines - Could you write 105. Is that my shirt? with the love of my life Hoosier Smith and a gender neutral reader if that isn't too much of a bother please? ❤ As always, completely okay not to write it! 💛
Warnings: smoking, war, some f words
Prompt: Is that my shirt?
Summary: It is said among the Marines that Hoosier has a crush on you. You decide to test the theory.
Taglist: @alienoresimagines @teenmagazines @meteora-fc @eugenesmorphine @band-of-brothers-cz @real-fans @not-john-watsons-blog @tealaquinn @ok-roemanov @mrseasycompany @punkgeekchic @wexhappyxfew @rayofshanshine @mavysnavy @easynix @georgeluzwarmhugs @easy-company-tradition @immrsronaldspeirs @snafus-peckuh @curraheewestandalone @warrior-healer @justamadgirlinabox @order-of-river-phoenix @whoahersheybars
.
.
.
The weather was slowly beginning to be absolutely unbearable. There probably wasn’t an inch of your body that wasn’t covered in sweat. Your mind was clouded by the thought of the cooling ocean that could provide at least a temporary relief from the never-ending heat. You most probably would be in the water already if you were actually back home in the States but the heavy Thompson on your shoulder was constantly reminding you otherwise, that you were still very much in the middle of the Pacific killing for peace.
Well, that and the constantly annoyed voice of Chuckler who complained about the weather three times minimum every five minutes. At least you suffered in silence.
“No need to point out our miserable conditions anymore, Chuckler,” you finally snapped but your voice had a bit of a playful tone into it, so your friend knew it’s nothing personal. You all were in a crappy mood, feeling horrible.
“Hoosier looked way too comfortable over there,” Chucker grinned at you, “simply had to remind him what a wonderful situation we find ourselves in.”
Hoosier shot him a fake smile in response and then got back to his cigarette. Even he was too tired to actually think of some sarcastic remark to retort with.
You shook your head, laughing. “Maybe you need to remind him some more.”
Runner next to you leaned back in laughter, always enjoying when you teased the poor man from Indiana, Loogootee. Which you did quite often. You couldn’t lie to yourself, you enjoyed teasing Hoosier more than you probably should and from a whole lot different reason than Runner.
Chuckler nodded in anticipation. “Maybe we should take our shirts off, what do you say, Y/N?”
His words took you by surprise – you almost choked on your own cigarette – as he took it to a completely new level.
“God, Juergens,” Leckie joined, his typical smirk lightening up his tired face, “no one wants to see that. Unless Y/N really joins in so then I’ll have something to focus on.”
Your cheeks blushed at Bob’s comment as you just rolled your eyes to appear not so flattered by his words. You knew perfectly well why the boys were being so flirtatious all of a sudden. Leckie about a week ago pointed out to you so convincingly that Hoosier has this enormous crush on you. At first, you began to laugh hysterically, thinking it was one of Bob’s classic jokes but when his face remained serious, you gave him a funny look.
“Hoosier? The Hoosier? On me? Bob, the heat is making you imagine things.”
But he simply just shook his head, his voice perfectly calm and quite convincing. “Y/N, I might be a bit stupid sometimes but I’m not blind. And given the fact that we’re in the middle of this fucking war, I think it’d just be nice to have someone by your side.”
You never heard Robert Leckie sound so serious and sincere before.
“I have you guys,” you tried to discourage him once more from his theory, which was actually more of a fact, but you hadn’t known that yet. He patted your shoulder and with a quick ‘think about it’ he disappeared from your sight, his words still echoing in your head.
That was seven days ago.
Leckie must had made a pact with Runner, or so you thought, because he approached you three days ago at lunch and the conversation was pretty much the same one like you had with Bob. Apparently, there was even a bet in the company on what’s going to happen first: Hooser finally making a move or you actually realizing the real deal.
“The whole fucking company?” you exclaimed once Runner finished justifying his and Bob’s theory.
“Yep!” he grinned, “even the officers.”
“Oh God,” you groaned, your head falling into your hands.
***
Ever since those two encounters, there was almost nothing else on your mind than Hoosier. You were seeing his stupid face everywhere. What had happened to you? A week ago, you were okay, and Hoosier was just a fellow soldier. Now he was Hoosier.
Damn Bob and Runner, you were sure that this change in thinking was their intention all along.
This went on for a couple of days until you just couldn’t bare it anymore, so you decided to give the men what they wanted and finally test the ridiculous theory yourself. You tried to not make it a big deal, you really did, you were trying to convince yourself that it was a mere distraction from the war but none of it slowed down your racing heart or stopped your trembling hands.
***
When the company was finally granted some very much needed relax time and was taken back from the front lines for a couple of days, you decided to take action. It was a ridiculous plan, stupid really, but if there was something you learned from your friends’ relationships before the war, it was wearing the clothes of your other half. It usually worked in 9 cases out of 10.
You stole one of Hoosier’s army shirts that was for whatever reasons his favourite, so you knew he’d be able to recognize it. Sneaking your way around the camp, you reached the destination where the provisional showers were built.
William Hoosier Smith, the game is on.
The company was watching a movie outside that night – a perfect opportunity. You walked out of the showers, finally feeling fresh and clean in weeks. Plus, the comfort of new clothes on your skin, Hoosier’s clothes, was quite something you weren’t able to describe. It almost felt like being born again.
But only this time it was better, your body shook with anticipation, a grin on your face and a slight blush on your cheeks. This was it, no going back now. You thanked the God that your friends chose their seating place far right, so you didn’t have to make your way through the whole goddamn Company, grabbing everyone’s attention.
Sitting down next to Hoosier and casually lighting your cigarette proved like one of the hardest things to do when wearing this man’s clothes. You were both scared and excited at once, dreading the outcome of your little game as well as welcoming it with open arms.
At first, nothing happened, the boys seemed to be too pulled into the movie to pay attention to anything else, your cigarette for nervousness long gone.
Until Hoosier turned his head to you, you felt his eyes looking you up and down, sending you shivers down your spine.
You didn’t know where the sudden courage was coming from, but you leaned dangerously close to him, whispering, “Is there a problem?”
Hoosier swallowed, taking a drag from his cigarette. He didn’t answer right away, instead a smirk slowly appeared on his face.
“Is that my shirt?”
You knew the question was coming, hell you even prepared possible answers, but it was as if all of them vaporized in the air and your mind was left blank.
You turned your whole body to Hoosier, finally realizing the tense atmosphere between you two.
“Is it?” you tried your best to sound as innocent as possible, “sorry, my bad. Do you want it back?”
Hoosier seemed taken back by your words but only for a fraction of a second, his confident and a bit cocky self was back. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
Your cheeks heating up, you moved closer even more and reached for his cigarette that was hanging from his lips. You slowly took it into your fingers, taking a drag and blowing a puff of smoke into the air. Hoosier’s eyes were fixated on your every move, and you knew you succeeded.
“You might want to follow me, Private Smith.”
“Count on it, Ma’am.”
Maybe Leckie was right, maybe having someone by your side was all you needed to make it through the war. You hadn’t known it back then, when Hoosier was following you in the night, you hadn’t known it the day after, or in a week or a month, but ever since the shirt incident Hoosier had always been there, always by your side, and it was only after the war ended, on the ship home, when you finally realized that the someone Leckie was talking about two years ago was William Smith.
#the pacific imagine#the pacific imagines#the pacific#hbo war#imagine#fanfic#hoosier imagine#hoosier#bill hoosier smith#hoosier x reader#robert leckie#runner conley#lew juergens#chuckler#chuckler juergens
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wanna dance? ~ bill 'hoosier' smith (the pacific)
my masterlist | my hbo war masterlist
pairing: bill 'hoosier' smith x female reader
short summary: him and her have been best friends for a couple years before the war, and they keep in touch even when he's away - only to realise with time that they're in love, but for varying reasons neither confesses.
words: 4.4K
a/n: this is written for the hbo war secret santa 2021 event !
dear @itsametaphorgwil , this is me, your secret santa! happy holidays to you, lovely one! have an awesome day and an even better christmas and new year's eve! i wish you all the best xx hope you'll like this lil present i made for you ♡
also huge thanks and love to @hbowardaily for organising this!! ✨
(y/n/n) means: your nickname
"Dear Bill,
Yesterday I met the old Mrs Thomas in the store and she asked about you – do you remember her? She was the one lady I accidentally bumped into at the Town Hall last Christmas when you chased me down the corridor, the one whose drink I spilled on both our dresses.
Lord, what an embarrassing moment. Anyway, she doesn't seem to remember – or if she does, she didn't bring it up, thankfully.
I wish we were still living in last year, or preferably the year before that. Then you would still be here, with all your stupid and slightly irritating jokes. Now every day feels the same – I wake up, I help Ma with the housework, then go to the store for my shift, leave in the late afternoon, check if there's a letter from you, another round of chores and finally going to sleep. All the while worrying about you.
And you know what's real frustrating? You're overseas, fighting for our country, risking your life, whilst I'm here, at home, doing the same things I've done before the war – except of course not meeting you every other day. I feel useless.
Enough of my complaining, tell me how you're doing. I hope it's not as bad as I imagine it to be. Please take care of yourself.
Yours sincerely,
your best friend (y/n)"
- - - - 3 years earlier - - - -
"Are you ready?" Dorothy calls out from the bedroom.
"One moment!" (y/n) answers equally loud from the bathroom, pulling the hairbrush through her hair one last time, glancing in the mirror to make sure everything's as perfect as it could be and moves back to her room with an excited bounce in her steps.
After promising her mother that she's going to be back by curfew, the two girls leave the house, practically rushing to the dance – this is the first time their parents let them go to an event like this and they feel like bursting with excitement.
Though after about half an hour, (y/n) has to admit that it's not like she hoped it would be. Dorothy has been asked to dance in the first twenty minutes, and has disappeared from her sight completely. Now she's standing by the wall all alone, watching all the couples dance. It's definitely not as enjoyable as she predicted.
But then a boy slumps down on a chair a few steps from her, a loud huff leaving his lips and it piques her interest so she turns her attention to him instead of the dancers. She's seen him around town before – which isn't surprising at all, Loogootee has never been a town big enough for the people living there to not know everyone else at least by sight –, and she knows that he lives two streets down from her, and goes to the same high school, only a year above her.
She can't help but wonder what got him looking so moody on a night that's supposed to be all fun.
About a minute later his head snaps towards her and swiftly she turns her gaze back to the dancefloor, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks for being caught staring – even if she wasn't staring like that.
"You wanna dance?" A voice speaks up next to her after a couple seconds, and glancing to the side she finds the same boy now standing right next to her.
With a confused frown forming on her forehead, (y/n) can't help but glance around to make sure he's talking to her. "Okay," she nods eventually when she finds no one else nearby.
"I'm Bill," he introduces himself on their way to the dancefloor.
"I know," she chimes back a bit taken aback still, but feeling it slowly dissolve into a happy atmosphere surrounding them. "I'm (y/n)."
"I know," Bill grins at her, and his response is enough to break the ice between the two as they burst into giggles.
As they start dancing, she can't help but remember the way he threw himself on that chair just a couple minutes prior, and she's back thinking about the possible reasons behind it within a moment.
"What are you thinking about?" His voice brings her out of her train of thoughts.
"Nothing," she's fast to reply, but seeing him raise an eyebrow in question she knows he won't take it as an answer. "Well, I was thinking about what got you so grumpy previously."
Bill grunts, his eyes darkening once more. "The girl I came with ditched me for someone else," he shrugs.
(y/n) takes a sharp breath, not expecting such an answer, and she feels herself grow sadder for him. "I'm–"
"I know, you're sorry. Don't be," he cuts in. "I just wanna forget about it, okay?"
All she can do is nod in response and so they continue dancing without a word for the next few minutes. When the song that's been playing ends, he asks if she wants to go out to get some fresh air and since before he appeared she was standing alone, she immediately agrees.
As if the new dosage of oxygen had a magical effect on him, he starts talking right away – and from then on, he's almost unstoppable, words flowing from his lips. He's determined to make her laugh, and he definitely succeeds most of the time – her facial muscles start hurting as the night goes on from all the wide smiling and laughing she's done.
When the time comes for her to go back home, he offers to walk her – reasoning that he wouldn't want to stay longer anyway and that he lives in the same direction – and they keep up the joyful conversation all the way to her front door. They say goodbye, and she disappears inside the house, thinking about how blue it makes her that everything will go back to normal now, and he won't be listening to his funny stories any time in the future.
Living in such a small town, they eventually keep on bumping into each other after that night, even out of school – especially when she starts helping out in her family's little store. He turns up often, with his friends or by his own when his mother sends him for something, and the two of them always chat a little, more and more as time progresses.
Then one time he (accidentally) stays until the end of her shift, and then they eventually spend the rest of the day together, wandering around town and talking about anything and everything – and just in general, having fun. From then on, it becomes a regular thing, every week (then later on even more than once a week) he shows up at the store just in time to catch her leaving and they go somewhere together.
They literally spend every free minute together – they are best friends despite the gender differences.
- - - - - - - -
"Dear (y/n),
I'm in Melbourne now, can you believe it? They sent us here to relax some and refit. The people here are awfully nice, and finally I had a comfortable enough place to sleep in and time to do so as well – it felt indescribably great.
Today the guys and I went sightseeing, well, as long as you can call sitting in different bars throughout the day sightseeing. (I know you're shaking your head right now, but don't even try to deny that you let out a small laugh too. I know you too well, I can even hear your laughter in my ears as I'm writing this. God, I miss hearing it in person.)
How is life going back home? Has your sister recovered from her illness yet?
Hopefully I can write more consistently to you from now on, at least as long as we stay here.
- - - - - - - -
Yours,
Bill"
It gets harder and harder every day for (y/n) – since she's realised that what she feels for Bill is something more than just friendship she's been only missing him more. There are times when she feels like stopping answering his letters, because maybe it would all be easier if she let go and tried to get over him, to forget about her stupid feelings towards him.
But every time, after a couple days pass, before she can realise what she's doing, she's sitting at her desk, a pen in her hand and a paper in front of her on the wooden surface. She can't stop writing back to him – for multiple reasons. First, she fears that if she stopped, it would only do harm to his morale, maybe he wouldn't be able to focus as good wondering why she's not replying. Second, she misses him. Too much to just not write. She wants to hear about him, hear from him. Third, worry is eating away at her. Her best friend is overseas, close to dying every other minute, and she can't do a thing about it. If she doesn't hear from him and makes sure he's alive, she won't be able to take it.
Which means that she has to find a different method to get over him.
On the other side of the world, Bill holds onto the letters he's gotten with the utmost care, he treasures them as if they're worth more than gold – because to him, they do. He misses her like hell, and for some reason he can't help but feel that she's the only thing keeping him grounded. The only thing that keeps him believing that the war hasn't destroyed everything worthwhile in this world for good, that there are still things to be alive for, to be happy for – like her and their friendship.
And even though they keep on experiencing such different things, and their lives aren't as similar as they have been back when they were nothing but kids from Loogootee, Indiana – and they each have their very different difficulties to face and fight every day, they both make sure to reply to the other's letters.
After literal years of hearing about almost nothing else from his friend but this mysterious girl named (y/n), one day Leckie proposes the possibility to Bill that even though he seems pretty oblivious about it, he might be in love with her.
"Basically since the first day we've met, every other sentence you say includes her in some way," Leckie shrugs after mentioning his opinion.
"Nah, that's stupid, she's my best friend and nothing else," Hoosier shakes his head, a chuckle leaving his lips as his eyes move around their surroundings.
"You sure?"
"Of course I am, I love her like a sister. I'm not in love with her."
"Okay, you know better," Leckie raises a hand in defense and turns back to writing a letter to Vera, but his eyes disclose that he's not at all convinced by his friend's reasoning.
For the next couple days, all Bill can think about is Leckie's words, even when they are getting shipped to another battle to fight, this time to Cape Gloucester. He can't put it into words why he can't seem to shake the thought, but it keeps on repeating inside his head whenever he has at least one second when he has nothing in particular to do.
And as any postal service they could get is delayed due to their fighting, he doesn't hear from (y/n) for a while and the feeling of missing her becomes almost too much to bear. Suddenly, it's crystal clear that he's been only living in oblivion and that's she's actually the love of his life. God, how ignorant he's been all this time.
When he tells Leckie that he was right, the man just shakes his head with a look that says 'finally' – he doesn't know how much longer he could've taken Hoosier being so stupid.
- - - - - - - -
"Dearest Bill,
I'm so glad to hear you're back in somewhat safety again, not in the direct line of fire!
Johnny Baker, you know, from Grant Street, got wounded - he's been transferred to some hospital I don't know where. Did you by any chance meet him over there? Maybe you were fighting together. But I guess there's only a slight chance for that, there must be so many different groups of soldiers fighting that don't meet at all - sorry, I'm not familiar with these Marine terms.
Anyway, when Mr Brown came to the store this morning and started saying how one of the local boys who enlisted got hit, I felt like fainting. I don't know how I would survive losing you. I lo I've never been more impatient in my life than that time to hear his answer when I asked him who it was. I also felt a little bad later, because I probably looked a bit too relieved for someone that just got to know that a boy from around here is in hospital, with a wound that might be very serious for all I know.
I hope the days aren't too dull for you, and you can get some well needed rest again. Tell my greetings to your friends for me, please. It's always nice to hear your stories about them.
- - - - - - - -
Yours,
(y/n)"
(y/n) almost confesses in one of her letters, totally by accident – luckily she realises it just in time and she can cross it out without it being too obvious what she wanted to say initially.
Ever since understanding her true feelings, she's thought about this various times, whether she should tell him about it or not. In the end, common sense always won.
She wouldn't want to divert his mind from more important things – like fighting a war. And also, somehow more importantly, because of fear of rejection. He's him and she's only her. Why would he want anything to do with her when it comes to dating? It's not like she doesn't know how he feels. He's told her – and others who asked about the two of them throughout the years – so many times how he loves her, but only as a sister. Just like if they were family members.
And she would never want to ruin their friendship – she values it more than to let it disappear only because of her stupid feelings.
What she doesn't know, that with the help of his friends, Hoosier is able to somewhat decode her letters – they spend a great portion of their free time in Pavuvu reading and analysing the words she's written. Of course, the most useful man when it comes to deciphering meanings behind words (fully written or crossed out half-words) and sentences is Leckie. Runner even jokes about how he should do this as a job when the war ends.
Despite her trying not to give anything away, they come to the conclusion that she's probably in love with him too – after what Hoosier literally jumps up and punches the air with his fist, feeling an outburst of joy none of them have felt in quite a long time now.
Still, he can't make himself writing down the words in any of his letters that would let her know how he feels. He knows he might die one of these days and he most definitely doesn't want to put her through any more heartbreak than necessary.
He doesn't want to be the one to wake false hope in her about how one day he might go back home and they could start a life together. What is more, he doesn't want her to wait around for him, especially since there's such a huge chance that he might as well never go back again. She should find someone to settle down and start a family with, why wait around for someone who's half dead already?
Bill even asks her about any possible guys around town she could date – reading his suggestions (y/n) can't help but roll her eyes, thinking about all the dinners she's spent with a couple men from around town who weren't overseas, at least not anymore because of different slighter wounds. They all went down the same way, everything was going totally fine but she still couldn't shake one thought – that none of these men are him.
- - - - - - - -
"Dear (y/n),
I hope you're not too worried by now, because I'm fine. Sure, these past weeks haven't been my best ones yet, but I'm doing alright now, and that's what matters. I'm in hospital now, trying to heal as fast as I can. As soon as they let me out, I'll be on my way home and nothing can stop me, truly. Definitely feels weird to be back in the country though!
Did I miss anything interesting since my last letter? Please, let me know of anything and everything. The longer your reply is, the better. I have to have something to do to prevent me from going fully crazy in this place. Don't take it as if I'm not grateful for being here – they take real good care of me, and I know I'm lucky to be here, and not buried in the ground. (Sorry, that got a little too heavy.)
Can't wait for us to meet again! It's what keeps me going on the nights I can't sleep.
- - - - - - - -
Yours sincerely,
Bill"
(y/n) calculates the change and places it gently into the hand of the customer standing on the other side of the counter, when the lady speaks up. "I didn't know Bill Smith was coming home."
She glances up, slightly frowning at the sudden comment, not really knowing what to answer – in the end she just hums in agreement.
"He just drove past me on the street when I was on my way here, at first I thought my eyes are mistaken," the woman continues eventually even without getting an answer.
"He drove past..." (y/n) repeats the words, freezing in place as they suddenly get a meaning inside her head as well.
She didn't know he was arriving home today – hell, she didn't even know he was released from the hospital in the first place.
Then, as if trying to make up for the time wasted when she stood frozen, she unties the straps of her apron with fumbling fingers, almost tearing it in the hurry to get it undone, then rushing around the counter she throws the entrance door open and with the following glance of a surprised customer she's already on her hurried way to the Smith's house.
Getting to their front door, (y/n) takes only one second to try and catch her breath before her knuckles rap a fast and loud rhythm on the wooden surface. Her fingers impatiently play with the material of her skirt as she waits for someone to open it – and as soon as it cracks open, she starts speaking, not even waiting for the other to acknowledge her.
"Mrs Smith! Lovely to see you! I've heard Bill has arrived home, is he here? Can I come in?"
Practically not even waiting for an answer she rushes past the older woman who stares after her with a warm and wide smile, watching as she practically flies into the dining room.
Loudly crying out his name as soon as her eyes land on the boy (y/n) immediately draws attention to herself. Bill's eyes widen and this time it's him to freeze – he feels like he's not able to move a single muscle in his body from the surprise of seeing her so unexpectedly.
With a few quick steps she's right in front of him, leaping straight into his arms, not caring at all about his family all around them watching or not behaving well-mannered. When her body comes in contact with his, Bill comes back to life, his arms move to tightly grip her waist to keep her right there, pulling her impossibly close to him.
Oh, how many times he's dreamed about this in the past years. And now finally he can do it.
"It's so amazing to see you," she breathes out, face still buried in his neck. "I missed you so bad."
"I missed you a lot too, (y/n/n)," he whispers back, his palms gently moving up and down her back in a caressing manner. His eyes are closed as he tries to live the moment to the fullest and store every little detail of it as perfectly as he can.
When the initial great happiness decreases a little – but only a little –, (y/n) loosens her arms around his neck as a signal and he gently puts her back down to stand on her own two feet. She glances up at his face, but only for a moment because she knows that if she wasn't careful enough, she would get lost in his almost grey but still blue orbs and wouldn't be able to tear her gaze away from them.
Later on in the afternoon, the two of them are sitting in the backyard just talking and catching up – and it feels as if no years has passed since their separation, as if it was only yesterday when they last saw each other.
"I just don't think it was fair of him to say that, you know? And even though mother wants me to go and apologise to him, I don't want to," the girl rambles on, her right hand mindlessly moving across the lawn as she's enjoying the soft feeling of the blades of grass stroking her skin. "What do you think I should do?"
When she doesn't get an answer for a couple long seconds, (y/n) looks up to find Bill already watching her – his eyes somewhat dazed, a heartwarming and butterfly-awaking smile playing on his lips. And it's more than clear that he's not paying any attention to her.
"Bill," she tilts her head, but it seems that it's not enough to grasp his interest so she takes to more drastic measures and calls out his name louder, her fingers snapping in front of his eyes. "William!"
"What?" He asks back, his whole body wincing in surprise as he wakes from his daydreaming.
"Are you even listening to a word I'm saying?" (y/n) shakes her head with a playfully disbelieving look in her eyes.
"Ah, I'm sorry," Bill diverts his gaze in slight embarrassment, and she could swear she saw a blush forming on his cheeks. "Could you repeat it?"
"It's not important," she shrugs, smiling at his profile, taking in the lines that write his face, enjoying that she can watch him without him catching her in the middle of it.
"No, wait, I wanna hear it. Anything you say is important to me. I'm sorry, I got lost in my thoughts. Please, tell me."
"Nope. Should've listened the first time."
Hoosier rolls his eyes, looking back at her. Their eyes connect and she can see something naughty sparkle up in his orbs just then but there's nothing she can do when the next moment she's being tackled down to the ground by him, his hands roaming around her sides, tickling her wherever he reaches.
"No, stop! Stop, Bill, please!" (y/n) exclaims, trying hard to wiggle away from him, but while once ago she might have been able to push him away, him being a marine for years has made him too strong for her to stand any chance now.
A minute or so later he stops his movements, leaning over her and catching his breath. His eyes sparkle bright as he stares into her (y/e/c) ones, and suddenly he knows he has to confess. It's not like his reasons why not to are valid anymore – he's not fighting a war, facing death about every day. All his mental contradictions are out the window now, so why would he keep quiet about it?
"I love you," he speaks up gently a second later, having convinced himself.
For a moment her rapidly beating heart feels like stopping from hearing these three words come from his mouth, but then she reminds herself that he probably still means it only as proof of his brotherly love.
"I love you too," her lips curve into a smile, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes and he's fast to notice.
"No."
(y/n) frowns, confused as to why he just said that.
"I love you. Like love love," Bill tries again, watching her face intently to catch the moment she understands what he means.
The thoughts spin in her mind, trying hard to make the words make sense. "You do?" The question leaves her lips in the end – and Bill's not satisfied at all with the doubt still filling her voice. It's fair to say he didn't quite expect this moment to go like this.
"Yeah," he nods, a little too vigorous and enthusiastic to his own liking, but at this point he just wants to make her believe him.
(y/n) bursts out giggling and his eyes widen in surprise. Is the idea of him loving her so ridiculous that she has to laugh about it?
"I-I'm so-sorry," she stutters in-between giggles as she tries to catch her breath, still looking up at him from her lying position. "I just didn't expect to hear this, at all."
"Oh," Bill replies, the confusion that has previously been written on her face now apparent on his own.
"I love you too, don't look so scared," (y/n) grins widely, then as she sees him open his lips, she foregoes and answers the question she knows he wants to ask. "Yes, love love."
The grin forming on his lips matches hers in width and within a second he's leaning down, only stopping a finger-breadth away from her face.
"I've been waiting for so long to do this," he mumbles.
"I bet I've been waiting even longer for you to do this," she whispers back.
Then his lips finally touch hers, gentle and feather-like until he feels her kiss him back with more passion – after that, he deepens the kiss himself. He feels that there's no need to restrain himself when for the past year all he's wanted to do was this, all he needed was her permission.
And the taste and softness of her lips along with the way it feels as they move along his are even better than in his dreams.
my masterlist | my hbo war masterlist
.::the end::.
and here's a little extra gift because i felt like making a moodboard:
taglist: @50svibes @neverendingstories00 @mads-weasley @now-im-a-belieber
[ do you wanna be added to my taglist? ]
#hbowarsanta21#hbo war secret santa#bill hoosier smith#hoosier smith x reader#hoosier smith imagine#hoosier smith fanfic#hoosier smith x you#jacob pitts#the pacific#the pacific imagine#the pacific fanfic#the pacific x reader#hbo war#hbo war fanfic#hbo war x reader#hbo war imagine#h company#h company imagine#h company fanfic#the pacific h company#x reader#reader insert#x y/n#fanfic#imagine#fanfiction#masterlist
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First Lines Meme
thank you @bobparkhurst for tagging me in this! I… do not have all 10 fics posted on AO3 so you’ll have to bear with me here as I go through and figure out what my most recent fics are and not spam with just the weekly chapters of my longfic.
Rules: post the first lines of your 10 most recent fanfics.
Sad, Beautiful, Tragic: Beautiful Magic; Chapter 7: To Be Lionhearted.
Getting the hang of how things worked around Tortworth was one thing, but Daisy still loathes presentations and all that they entail.
2. Running Late ( Bill ‘Hoosier’ Smith x OFC, Postwar )
Bob liked to accredit himself with noticing finer details of things. It helped him write, helped him find a purpose, back during the war. He certainly wasn’t blind by any means. Lew and Wilbur almost didn’t believe him, at first, but after staring at her long enough to earn one of those warning glares from Bill — they all came to the same collective conclusion.
3. Sad, Beautiful, Tragic: Chapter 37, “What Comes Down”
They lose one man in the night, Private Jackson, and capture two prisoners.
4. Like A Movie I’ve Seen Before ( Ronald Speirs x OFC , Ghost/Soulmate/Modern AU )
Either this is a real thing, or she needs to talk to her doctor about switching her anxiety meds. She has half a mind to check to see if she’s taken the wrong amount and that this is the start of a very bad trip.
5. This, Too ( Dick Winters x OFC, Boxer! AU, 1990s AU )
She didn’t know getting punched in the face could reap so many prizes beyond… monetary ones.
6. Esto También Pasará ( General, BoB OFCS )
She’s used to bearing weight. And even if she wasn’t, she’d do it without complaint anyway. Because while her parents weren’t good for much, they were certainly good at instilling grit in their daughters.
7. Blind Dates 2023 ( Bill ‘Hoosier’ Smith x OFC )
It was a great camera all things considered.
8. So Scarlet (It Was Maroon) ( Dick Winters x OFC, Boxer! AU, 1990s AU )
Just one match, Harry bargained, just one and I’ll leave you alone.
9. It’s Nice To Have A Friend ( Lena Basilone & OFC, BoB/TP Crossover )
She’s never been especially partial to these military dinners.
10. Cause I Get Lonesome (Sometimes) ( Ronald Speirs x OFC, Pre-SBT )
His head is fuzzy in a way that’s unfamiliar to him.
—
TAGGING ( but not necessary ): @shoshiwrites , @softguarnere , @mercurygray , @liebgotts-lovergirl , @aerokriegs , @wexhappyxfew , @sergeant-spoons , & whoever else wishes to participate !! :)
#listen . that Speirs fic at the end is still my pride and joy#my little gold star#poet’s chain mail#poe’s pals
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All of the fics are based on the fictionalized portrayals in HBO War miniseries The Pacific and not the real individuals. No disrespect is intended with any of my work in this fandom. I do not take requests.
You can also find these fics on my AO3.
Do not interact if you’re under 18, a terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.
And I Lay Right Down in My Favorite Place - Bill "Hoosier" Smith x Reader (Smut, female reader)
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Hoosier Dating an Extrovert Headcannons
Bill "Hoosier" Smith x Extrovert!Reader
Masterlist
A/N: I'm currently obsessed with Jacob Pitts...so you're welcome :) this is about the fictional portrayal of H company boys on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!
You and Bill get along from the beginning, and y'all are the epitome of the grump x sunshine trope!!
Sarcasm and your endless optimism go perfectly together, even if no one fully comprehends it.
Where Bill sits and observes most of the time, you never seem to tire from the excitement, telling him about every second of your day with a bright smile on your face.
He won't admit it, but he finds it incredibly adorable.
When things slow down at night and you're sitting in your foxhole, you two often find yourselves talking about everything from back home to the future.
In the quiet when it's just the two of you, Bill seems to stray away from his usual snarky and blunt attitude for one that's much softer. If Leckie or Runner ever got wind of it, he knows he'll never hear the end of it.
You slowly pick up on some of his traits, your own sarcastic and witty side becoming more prominent. Of course, Bill notices and he feels a sense of pride knowing that he's influenced you...and he teases you relentlessly.
"Now, who'd you get that fine sense of humor from?" he asks you, a smirk adorning his lips.
You just roll your eyes. "Definitely not you, honey. You're not as funny as you think."
The teasing NEVER ends, and the H company guys all love the two of you, so they go along with it.
When the terrible shelling on Guadalcanal started, you happened to be on your way back from the bathroom, so you sprinted towards the first hole you saw.
The men inside were calling for you, and right as you were about to slide in, it was hit with a shell, throwing you onto your back. Seeing the horrific remains of the men inside tore at your insides, and you froze. A second later, you snapped out of it and ran to the next hole over, which happened to be your hole with the boys.
You slide into the hole, and someone grabs you and holds you to their chest. It doesn't take long for you to realize it's Bill. He's got you in one arm and a whimpering dog in the other.
He was going insane not knowing where you were, and having you in his arms calms his nerves slightly despite the bombardment happening around you.
The next morning, he holds your shaking form (wrapped in his *signature* blanket) tightly as you sit outside your hole, staring numbly at the ground ahead of you. From then on, you seem to be more reserved...more quiet, and it worries him and the guys to death.
Whenever things got rough, they (especially bill) always knew you to be the one happy thing in their life (not that you didn't make them happy still ofc, but seeing you so shaken hurt them).
He does anything and everything to make you smile, laugh, and seem like your old self again. You never tell him exactly what happened, but it doesn't take much for him to imagine something along those lines.
You know those little habits that you picked up from Bill? Well, he picked some up from you, too, and he finds himself having a more energetic and extroverted attitude while he's trying to be there for you, cheering you up to the best of his ability.
Slowly, with Bill and the other guy's help, things get better, and you become more like yourself again. Although he's overjoyed that you're back to your bubbly and extroverted self, he's soooo relieved that he doesn't have to pick up the slack on that front...because it is exhausting for him to act like that. He'll leave that to you!
Tag List: @footprintsinthesxnd
#hbo war#the pacific imagine#the pacific imagines#the pacific#the pacific x reader#bill hoosier smith imagines#bill hoosier smith x reader#bill smith#bill hoosier smith#the pacific headcannons#bill smith headcannons#hoosier smith headcannon#hoosier headcannon
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it doesn't matter ~ bill 'hoosier' smith (the pacific)
my masterlist | my hbo war masterlist
pairing: bill 'hoosier' smith x female reader
request: "heyy, i just stumbled upon your blog, and it honestly made me so happyyy!!! i was wondering if you could do me either a lieb or a hoosier smith imagine (i love them both so much, so either one is okay!) and could you maybe do either a pregnancy one or maybe a proposal? preferably pregnancy, but i don't mind too much either way! last thing, just wanted to let you know that you are amazingly talented, and i wish i could write the way you do! ❤️" ~ @whoahersheybars
summary: bill bumps into a girl on the streets of melbourne, sending her and all her belongings flying to the ground. neither would think in that very moment that in only a couple years, they'll be over several unexpected turns, with the involvement of hundreds if not thousands of letters written and even a war bride ship.
words: 3.6K
a/n: thank you for the request, lovely! i hope you'll like this one! i've never written with anyone from the pacific before so it's a first and i'm a tiny bit anxious.
this includes a few time jumps, i didn't want to end up writing a fic that's too long for my liking, i hope nobody minds.
sometimes i wish i could write accents in my fics, but sadly english not being my first language puts me into enough stress without having to worry about accents too :((
taglist: @mads-weasley @neverendingstories00
"Oh, damn!" (y/n) grunts as she registers that everything from her paper bag has scattered on the ground. She swiftly pushes herself up onto her knees from her sitting position and scrambles closer to grab the newly bought food - at least what could still be saved.
Out of nowhere a hand holding an apple appears in front of her eyes. "I'm utterly sorry, miss." She looks up to see a young man towering over her with an overly apologetic look in his eyes. Taking in his American uniform and thinking back to what he said, with flashbacks of the previous minutes in front of her inner eyes - it suddenly becomes obvious it was this man in particular she bumped into in the corner, the one that sent her flying to the ground, throwing the paper bag in the air.
"Can I pay you back in any way?" He continues as she reaches up to grab the fruit from his hand and lets it fall back into the bag - that's much emptier now, with most of the contents previously landing in the dirt.
(y/n) blinks once or twice, still trying hard to let her mind catch up to what just happened. Maybe she hit her head. Just in time with her thought, the marine leans further down to get a better look in her eyes. "Did you hit your head, miss?"
Thinking back to what happened, she frowns and shakes her head. She has no memory of that, she just simply sat down on the asphalt. Well, maybe a bit harsher than just sit down, because it was more of a fast and ungracious fall.
The man reaches out once more, this time with his palm open and facing up, offering a hand for her to get up. She takes it, but by the time her mind even processed the thought of standing up, he pulled her up with such strength that she loses her balance immediately and comes flying into his chest. He grabs her elbow with his other hand and holds her tight and steady until he makes totally sure that she's secure on her own two legs.
With not at all lady-like movements she swiftly dusts off her clothes, taking a second glance to see she's got the most, then her head rises again until their eyes connect. What she finds in his almost grey but still blue orbs surprises her. It's an incredible amount of honest worry with which he's staring at her.
"I'm okay, thank you," she smiles up at him and a couple seconds of seemingly being completely frozen later he swings into action and as if he's touched fire, he lets go of both her elbow and hand, then takes a small step back to create a bit more space - just as it's ethical. "And you don't have to pay me back, I ran into you just as much as you ran into me."
"At least let me buy you a coffee, then," he insists, the worry in his eyes switching to some form of regret. "Please."
"Fine."
A small smile makes its way onto his face, then as if suddenly realising something, he straightens his posture and holds out his hand, once more. "I'm Bill, by the way. Bill Smith."
"(y/n) (y/l/n)," she takes his hand and gives it a firm shake - one that obviously surprises him from the slight raise of one of his eyebrows. It's nothing she's not already used to, though. Ever since she was a kid, she kept on surprising people - mainly men - with her strength. It's pretty unusual coming from a young girl. Advantage of growing up on a farm with only your father and older brother around.
"Uhm, can you suggest a café though?" Bill scratches the back of his neck, cheeks turning lightly pink. "I'm not at all familiar with Melbourne yet."
The girl giggles and places the paper bag under her arm whilst pretending to think. "I don't really like coffee that much, actually," she ponders out loud, then just as his face slightly falls and his lips open to protest in a bit of disappointment, she continues with a cheeky grin. "How about something with alcohol in it instead?"
For a second he thought he didn't hear it right. She couldn't have said that, right? But looking in her playfully shining eyes and seeing the grin playing on her lips, he knows that she's said just that.
"I happen to know a pretty good bar not far from here," (y/n) adds.
"Okay," Bill gives his answer - probably a bit faster than he's supposed to, faster than it's morally conventional, but before he can feel embarrassed again, an angelic laugh leaves her lips and suddenly all he feels is that it was more than worth it.
The walk to the bar starts in silence, just the two of them moving without a single word - both trying to understand the weird feeling tingling in their bodies. Then (y/n) breaks the quiet, deciding that if she's really going to have a drink or two now with a total stranger, then at least know a little bit about each other before getting to it.
"I'm not that familiar with Melbourne, either, actually."
"Yeah?" The marine glances at her for a short moment before his eyes return to the ground below them.
"Yeah. All my life I've been living in the countryside, on a farm. I only left a few months prior. Because my pa didn't want a young woman like me to live there on my own."
Why is she about to tell this man all about her life, her past? What is it about him that makes her feel so comfortable as if she knew him for weeks, months, or hell, even years, and not fifteen minutes in total? She can't quite define, but it's definitely there.
"On your own?"
"Yeah, both he and my brother have enlisted," she shrugs. "My mom's long gone, didn't even know her really."
What? Stop!, she mentally slaps herself. Why is she being so depressing now?
"Enough about me. Tell me about yourself, Bill Smith."
He grins at her use of his full name, then reaches up with one hand to scratch at the back of his neck, looking at his feet in the process.
"I'm from Loogootee, Indiana," he speaks up, then pauses. Suddenly he doesn't know what to say.
(y/n) glances at him from the side, raising an eyebrow as if to question why he stopped so soon. Bill takes a breath, quickly thinking about things he could talk about that might sound interesting and appealing to the Aussie girl.
In the end his attempts seem successful as she giggles every once in a while listening to his stories, sometimes adding one of her own that resembles his. The walk to the bar goes by fast and in absolute conviviality.
About an hour later they're sitting in a booth, the paper bag gently pressing against her leg as she's trying to prevent it being stolen or left there without her paying full attention to it. Three empty glasses and one about half full sits between them on top of the table.
They're just laughing away at something Bill said when three figures enter their field of vision, casting a kind of shadow on the table and the two of them. With a slow movement of their heads they both look at the newly arrived - (y/n) doesn't get any more clever about who they might be at first glance, but Bill's eyes lighten up as they take in the three men.
By their American marine uniform - similar if not the same as Bill's - she figures they're probably his comrades in the Marine Corps, the ones he already told many stories about.
"Hoosier, is that really you with this lovely lady right here or do my eyes mislead me?" One of them leans closer with a loud chuckle erupting from his throat.
Hoosier. What is a hoosier?, she wonders in her head.
Another one slaps Bill in the shoulder in a playful way, sending a wink his way, then all three of them start laughing - so loud that it causes many people glancing in their direction from all across the large room, no matter the otherwise already almost deafening noise.
"(y/n), excuse my friends for acting like a group of lunatics," Bill looks back towards her, his cheeks the colour of a light red rose - is it because of the drinks he's had or because of his friends?
"Oh yes, I'm sorry about that, miss," the one standing the closest to her pretends to slap himself in the forehead with a look of regret on his face before placing his palm on top of his chest, facial expression turning serious. "I'm Robert Leckie. And let me introduce you these two gentlemen I arrived with. Wilbur Conley and Lewis Juergens."
"(y/n) (y/l/n)," she nods with a small smile.
"You know my first name, Leckie?" One of the other two lets out a chuckle - the one who nodded and waved a little after the name Lewis was announced. "Now that's a surprise."
"Of course I do," the questioned one, Leckie rolls his eyes in response.
"Why, what are you called amongst the marines then?" (y/n) chimes in with true curiosity sparkling in her eyes.
"I'm Chuckler, he's Runner, and Bill over there is Hoosier."
"And he's Peaches," Conley - or should she say Runner? - adds swiftly, earning a slap to the back of his head from Leckie.
(y/n) watches them interact with a smile on her face, wondering about what the origin of these nicknames could be, then turns to Bill with the smile turning into a playful grin. "Hoosier?"
"Yeah," he grins right back.
"Okay we're leaving you two lovebirds alone now, just wanted to make sure it's truly you," Leckie straightens up. "I'll see you around, Bill, and it was lovely to meet you, (y/n)," he looks at them one by one.
"Vice versa," the girl smiles up at him, then the three marines bid farewell and walk away. "They seem nice," she says to Bill who gives her an appreciative smile back.
- - - - - - about four months later - - - - - - - -
Her fingernails drum a fast rhythm on the table of the small diner impatiently, her eyes never leaving the entrance. Where is he and why is he late? With a slightly shaky hand she raises the glass in front of her and she takes a large sip, swirling the liquid around with her tongue to enjoy the taste better.
After the drink is safely put back down on the table, she cards her fingers through her hair then leans her face in her palms, rubbing the skin under her finger pads in nervosity. She didn't even hear the door open or feet aproaching, but the next moment a hurried, quiet voice speaks up next to her. "I'm sorry I'm late."
"It's okay," she smiles at Bill, but it doesn't reach her eyes.
"What's wrong?" Hoosier slips onto the chair opposing her, a worried glint appearing in his eyes.
He knows her too well, he does from about a month after their first meeting.
"We have to talk."
He frowns, leaning closer to her with his elbows resting on the wooden surface between them, then just looks at her, waiting for her to continue.
"I think I'm pregnant," (y/n) announces. What would be the point in beating around the bush? It's easier just to say it as it is.
Bill visibly gulps, his eyes widening a bit. About a minute passes with the two of them just staring in each other's eyes before he speaks up - his voice somewhat hoarse. "You think?"
"Yeah," she looks away, fingers fidgeting. "I'm not entirely sure, but there's a chance I'm right."
"Uhm," the young marine starts speaking but immediately his voice fades and he just clears his throat to avoid being completely silent. What should he say? He has no idea. He doesn't even know what he feels at the moment.
"I understand if this is too much for you," (y/n) swiftly interrupts his thinking. "I mean, we're young and only know each other for a couple months and obviously we're not married. You're American and I'm Australian. We live on the two opposite sides of the world. I understand if you're not ready for a kid yet or don't want to have one in these circumstances."
"What are you saying?" Bill tilts his head in question, eyebrows moving into a frown.
She takes a deep breath, averting her eyes from his and glancing at her nervously moving fingers instead before answering his question. "That even if I'm actually with child, you can forget about the whole situation. I'm keeping it, but you don't have to."
A sharp hiss leaves his lips by her suggestion. "No," it's all he says, making her raise her glance back up to him in surprise.
"No?" (y/n) breathes out a couple seconds later.
"No," he repeats, shaking his head fiercely. "I'm not leaving you alone when you're pregnant with my kid."
"But we didn't want it."
"I know. It doesn't matter."
His lips slowly curve into a smile and she lets out a small gasp. Tears blur her vision as she starts laughing in relief.
"Are you sure?" She manages to get the words out through her sounds of happiness.
"Yes, (y/n), I am," Hoosier reaches out for her hand still laying on the table and takes it into his own, giving it a gentle squeeze as he joins her laughter. "We made a new form of life, can you believe it?"
"Don't forget about how I might not be pregnant."
"Okay, okay. Let's wait with this until we can be entirely sure, yeah?"
(y/n) nods in agreement and so he seamlessly changes the subject.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"You know, we should get married," Bill breaks the comfortable silence as they're having an impromptu picnic in the park, (y/n) laying down with her head in his lap, his hand gently resting on the tiny bump of her stomach. "Before I leave again, I mean."
A giggle leaves her throat as she looks up at him in blissful disbelief.
"It's a bit fast, I know, but I think we kinda already crossed that line when getting pregnant," he shrugs.
"Wouldn't it be weird to do it without our families even knowing about us planning it?"
"It might be."
A couple minutes pass in quiet as they're both thinking about his proposition, and it's him to break it again, his voice fainter than before. "I'm not stupid and I'm not living in denial. I know there's a huge chance that I'm not coming out of this alive. And I want to support you and my child even if I'm not around. Marriage is my only chance to do it."
(y/n)'s speechless - she hasn't expected such a heart-clenching turn in the mood. But to her own sadness, she has to agree with what he said - all the while she can't help but feel a little flutter in her heart seeing him wanting to help her and the yet unborn baby out so bad.
"So what do you say?" Hoosier asks after waiting another minute or two.
"That you could've thought of a more romantic proposal," she giggles - if nothing more, this can be a lightening to the seriousness of the moment.
Bill shakes his head and rolls his eyes but lets out a chuckle himself.
"We could get married. If that's what you really want," (y/n) adds on a more severe note, resting a hand on top of his.
"Are you free tomorrow?" Now it's his turn to joke - but the honesty shining in his eyes lets her know that he half means it.
A wide, happy smile makes its way onto her face and her head moves in a simple nod.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Dear Bill,
I'm delighted to announce that I've given birth to a healthy, beautiful baby daughter. I'm sorry you couldn't have been here. I'm sure you would've loved to be the first one to take her in your hands - I'd have loved that too.
I hope this letter of mine still finds you unscathed, wherever you might be. Oh, how I wish this war would end soon.
I'm still debating what her name should be - I know, I'm so terribly indecisive. You agreeing to give her my mother's name in her memory seems to not have been enough to convince me fully. The nurses gave me a day to decide, so I hope I'll dream the perfect choice in my sleep.
Must be crazy to think you're a father now. It is quite unbelievable for me still, being a mom. The word makes it sound frightful, with all the responsibility to look after another human being.
I can't wait to hear from and one day even see you again. Take care of yourself, Bill.
With love,
your (y/n) Smith"
This is the letter that keeps him going in Cape Gloucester. He tries to keep it as dry as possible, no matter how much it seems like the raining is never going to stop again.
This is the letter that gets joined by a couple others including the one in which (y/n) lets him know of the baby's final name - Margaret Helen Smith, after the two grandmothers and with his last name which makes him an ounce happier even with the circumstances he gets the news in -, or the one in which she's sent him a photo of their child and herself - his most treasured belonging for the time being.
These are the letters that leave him wordlessly praying when they announce the lottery to win a ticket home in Pavuvu. He doesn't win, but at least whilst staying on the humid, gruesome island they get and can send letters more often.
Then the absence of letters from him is what wakes the almost unbearable worry in her. First it doesn't matter, it has happened that letters arrived more rarely. But then it becomes two months, three months, more and there's still no word from him.
The worst thought nestles in her mind, and no matter how hard she tries, she can't close it out. Taking care of her baby keeps her busy throughout most of the days and even parts of the nights, but she still has lonely moments when the silence and emptiness of the small apartment makes it too difficult to just get past the negativity.
Hope slowly starts to fade - until a few days from Margaret's first birthday in December she gets a letter. From him. Turns out he wasn't killed in action. He got hit when a mortar exploded close to him and he was then transferred back to the US. It's a bit hard to think about how far they are from each other, but the thought that he's still alive makes everything bearable - she feels like she could wait for any time now, as long as his condition truly stays as it is.
The rest of the war passes by with nothing but letters exchanged - with her telling him all about the things baby Maggie does and him telling her about his healing, his family, and then eventually when he leaves the hospital how he's found the perfect house for them and how he started working.
Late 1945, close to their child's second birthday, Bill tells her about a war bride ship that he heard of from another wounded soldier he travelled back to America and still keeps in touch with. He proposes her leaving with the first one - he even offers help with organising the trip. Only if you want to, of course, he writes.
In March, 1946 she says goodbye to everything she's ever known, packs her life and with her kid in her arms boards the ship that will eventually take her to her husband.
It takes six weeks for the ship to arrive to the United States, and being so impatient it feels like forever for her. Hoosier feels a very similar way, knowing that he's missing out on his baby's first years - with every day that passes she's growing up more and more without her father around.
As all the women aboard start descending from the ship and stand on American ground, chaos soon takes over the port - too many people waiting to pick up their already or just soon to be wives and too many people arriving with the ship.
Anxiety fills her whole existence as her eyes travel along the sea of people, desperately searching for Bill as Margaret cries in her arm, frightened by the loud noise and large crowd. What feels like the middle of the great masses of people she stops, slowly turning around, examining all the faces getting in her gaze's way.
Her breathing quickens and all of a sudden she feels stupid for travelling all across the world for what? A man she's not seen for two and a half years now?
Just as this thought enters her mind, the crowd slightly parts and as if sent from the angels above, a familiar figure enters her vision. Leaving her suitcase right there on the ground without a care in the world she sets off in as fast of a run she can manage with a two-year-old sitting on her arm and so many people in the way, and she flies into his embrace.
"Bill," his name leaves her lips in a relieved whisper, almost inaudible in the noise.
Despite never leaving Australia in her entire life before that one time six weeks ago, now, arriving to unfamiliar shores, into the arms of the man she grew to love in such a short time, the man whose child she's given birth to two years ago, she feels like coming home.
.::the end::.
#bill hoosier smith#hoosier smith x reader#hoosier smith imagine#hoosier smith fanfic#hoosier smith x you#jacob pitts#the pacific#the pacific imagine#the pacific fanfic#the pacific x reader#hbo war#hbo war fanfic#hbo war x reader#hbo war imagine#h company#h company imagine#h company fanfic#the pacific h company#x reader#reader insert#x y/n#fanfic#imagine#fanfiction#masterlist#requested
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in the tram, i found you
Pairing: Bill "Hoosier" Smith x OC (Claire Halston)
Genre: unadulterated fluff, v self-indulgent
inspired by the subway scene from the film, past lives.
・❥・ ・❥・ ・❥・ ・❥・ ・❥・
1942, Melbourne
Blow her fuse now, ‘cause she’d rather combust than be still.
Woke up with a headache, trudged through an eight-hour work day with rabid customers, a boss that blames her for the unwanted clothes flung between the racks. Her paycheck is a couple days late, and she needs it to pay her rent. God forbid she asks her parents, who’ve got hospital bills to cover, for some cash.
Claire slips through the closing doors of a tram, as the sun descends into night. It rumbles on the tracks, shakes the bar handles, and the corner flaps of newspapers, and all she wants to do is take a sip of water.
But of course, right when the bottle neck meets her lips, someone slams her over.
She catches herself on a pole. Body bent over; seated knees in her sights as the metal floors ring into focus. A dribble of water on her chin, droplets that disappear into a small puddle, cast with the shadow of the suspect, and her fury grows. In rush hour, it’s common. But a blaze rises in her throat, her pitfalls incendiary to her mood.
(Just a sip of fucking water–)
“Fuck,” the perpetrator curses. “My bad, ma–”
She grits her teeth, stands and scrubs the dampness off her chin. “Watch it, asshole.”
He pulls his neck back, words sticking together with the cigarette held in his teeth. “Hey, it was a fuckin’ accident, lady, calm your nose down,” he says. “Ain’t nothin’ got on your dress either.”
“How ‘bout you say sorry, and get away from me?”
He yanks the cigarette away with his fingers, and stares at her, deadpan. In the crowd of peering eyes, in the humidity that thickens, and the chatter that softens ever so slightly - he steps closer. To his surprise, she does not move. Their hands grip on the same pole ‘til both their knuckles turn white, and up close, she makes out the gunmetal eyes that blink in her face.
But despite himself, his eyebrows loosen.
“Whatever,” he says, and leans back. Her grip on the pole loosens too, as she watches him turn around to move. But before he walks out of earshot, he looks over his shoulder. “Have a nice life, sunshine.”
Against the rowdy cahoot of soldiers dressed like him (ah, Americans), he walks further away, pays no mind to the cackling hyenas and plops his bottom on a seat, all the way at the other end of the tram. Still, his body is in view, when she takes an open seat herself, the old lady across from her peeping her eyes from the top of her paper. Fuck, he’s right. She was overreacting, but she will not burst her dignity for this.
She just needs something to be mad at. Claire is not about to feel guilty for this.
(Though, the way she keeps glancing at him with tense shoulders, says otherwise.)
(She catches his eyes, more than once.)
But of course, he gets off alone at the same stop.
Blondie walks a few meters behind her, and for a second, her fingers twitch as she clutches at the fabric of her dress, ‘cause he looks like a stalker in the dark. Her head keeps itching to turn around, and her heart pounds rapidly against her ribs.
“Sunshine, I’m billetted by the stadium here,” he says. “Don’t look so scared.”
Her shoulders drop.
Awkward silence stretches between them, and the chirps of crickets in the shrubs never before, seemed this interesting. But it’s heedless. When he hums some Bing Crosby song out-of-tune, and flicks a lighter, she sighs, the snapshots of their earlier encounter flashing into her mind.
“Look, I’m sorry–”
“Don’t even wanna hear it.”
Claire pauses in her step, and his feet too, screeches to a halt on the stone. The night coats the sky, and the stars dimly shine. A few stragglers scatter the sidewalk, mostly couples cuddled on benches in the distance. She stands by a small junction, the left to the stadium, and the right to her neighborhood where she rents a little room in a boarding house, five minutes away. This is where they part; this is where she caves.
But apparently, he’s not interested. “You overreacted,” he points at her, “but I wasn’t playin’ nice too.”
Her mouth falls agape, and he shrugs. “Don’t gotta blame anyone, when it’s nothin.”
The likes of petrification in her face brings a chuckle to his lips.
“You ain’t got words, sunshine?”
“Fuck off.” She frowns when he laughs, but decides he doesn’t deserve her prickliness. “I’m just…impressed. I expected you to be another drunken American, trying to throw fire around here, but you’re pretty decent.”
“On behalf of my boys, fuck you.” This time, she giggles.
(And promptly misses the way he tampers down a smile; lets his chest breathe out.)
“Soldier,” she says, “have you seen your men walking in zig zags on the streets?”
He snorts, clouds of white smoke over his face. “All part of the charm, m’lady, tryna show the Aussie ladies we’re a good time.”
She likes the drawl in his accent, the slow pace he talks. It’s comfortable to listen to, even if unfamiliar.
“Well, it’s not working, sir.”
“Bill.” He smiles, faintly. “Call me Bill. Or Hoosier, if you’d like.”
“Where’d you get Hoosier from?” Claire asks.
They stand on the sidewalk, face-to-face, both leaned on their hips. The stars do not brighten, the crickets do not louden, and the people lay resting in their spots. But it strikes her mind when he smiles - he’s quite handsome in his boyish, shaggy ways. She feels unashamed to stare. After all, he’s not a douche.
“How ‘bout,” he starts, “I tell you over some dinner?”
God, this man is trying to make her brain short circuit.
“Well, well, well,” she manages. “What makes you interested in dinner with me?”
He turns his lips into a mock frown, eyes floating upwards as he nods at the sky.
“Just thought you looked pretty hot, all fired up.”
Typical; she scoffs, and saunters up to him. “And what do you, offer me, for dinner?”
“Saw some Italian thing, downtown,” he says. “Friday, I’ll wait for you here, 0500 sharp.”
“No can do.” But when his shoulders fall, she’s quick to repent. “Got work until 0530. How about you wait for me at the stop downtown? I’ll meet you there, takes about 5-minutes. My tummy will be ready for some grub.”
At that, he slips an easy grin on his face, tosses the cigarette, and sticks his hand out.
“Deal….?”
“Claire.” She shakes his hand, coarse skin squeezing her palms gently. “Nice to meet you, soldier.”
“Marine,” Bill murmurs, and Claire straightens up, confused. “I’m a marine.”
・❥・ ・❥・ ・❥・ ・❥・ ・❥・
Friday comes, and this time, they enter the tram together.
Their bellies full of pasta–she swats Bill when he squelches obnoxiously in public–the moon hanging high, and a bustle of locals and marines, entwined with rambunctious laughter, the weekend now in sight. This time, when the train groans over a bump on the tracks, she holds onto his arms, readily propped up for her.
(His thick, muscly arms, hidden under his shirt and a lean– okay Claire, stop it.)
He hadn’t tried to adorn his fancy uniform to impress her, but she likes that. After all, her own yellow dress seemed a little haggard with the flyaways against her hair bun; a long day at the department store. But the schemes of customers did not bother her as much, and she took her boss’ yapping with a neutral smile, because for once, she had something to look forward to, a reason to watch the clock.
5:45 p.m. –when the tram opened up, she caught the smile Bill tried to hide away, as he waited by the stop.
“Thought you said 5-minutes,” is the first thing he says, with a smirk.
“Hoosier, if I could get here that fast, I’d be running in the Olympics.”
She learned over dinner how Hoosier’s a slang for Indiana people, but his friends coined it as a joke of his "puny brain." The rough skin on his hands was a trait even before handling weapons, when he worked part-time at his father’s hardware store, took up odd fixing jobs to save up for college. Business, he would have studied, if not for the war (she changes the subject when he quiets - on their table, there will be no seat for hell). He wants to take over the hardware store in Loogootee, his tiny hometown that no one knows off, and live a simple life.
“Wanna make enough to eat, give my wife and kids a good life, and sleep,” he surmised. “The rest’ll surprise me.”
“I like that,” she said. “Don’t forget to romance your lady though. Too much sleep, and she’ll slip away.”
“Oh, trust me,” he laughed, “I ain’t gonna let that happen. My mom will send a bullet up my ass, first.”
In the quick pounding of her heart, she feels present in his voice.
It warmed her to see the way his eyes lightened, the corners of his lips lifting when she prattled on about herself. They’re pretty simple, them two. She dreams of being a florist; to open up a store like the one her mother used to own, because she loves exchanging giddy smiles when a client holds their gift for a beloved. Her mother, her sweet angel of a mother, turned ill after a stroke years and years ago, so she ended up selling her business to help foot the bill (even when her father insisted, he’ll work longer hours). She’s better now though, so Claire’s busy saving up money to make that happen–deal with a grueling job to build a flower shop in her mother’s name.
(It always melts him, when people treat their mothers well. You’d be surprised, how many don’t.)
“You know,” he said, “when I first met you, bein’ a florist ain’t what I imagined of ya.”
“Too rough around the edges to not break a stem?”
“Nah,” he replied, chomping down on the gnocchi. “You got this crazy fuckin’...spark in your eyes. Could boss a whole platoon around, if you tried hard enough.”
“Is it odd, then, that I’d want to arrange flowers of all things?" She questioned. "Too soft?”
He pondered for a second, before he spoke - stabbed a piece of gnocchi with his fork. “Ownin’ business ain’t an easy game, sunshine. You’d be a boss lady no matter what you do.”
Blood rushed to her cheeks then, enamored, as he turned his attention back to his plate.
And now, as they head back, holding onto a singular yellow pole, she’s a little richer with her glimpses of Bill Smith.
Blood rushes to her cheeks now, enchanted, as his fingers brush over hers. They hadn’t said much to each other since hopping on the tram, but the noise seems to fade away in their silence, when he looks at her with this fondness-
-like the storm in his gunmetal gaze, now tamed in the wisps of the summer breeze.
It’s comical, the little gap between them, a far cry from the opposite ends they sat on the first time–and this is only the second. She appreciates that he roots himself in place, tries not to stand too close, too soon. But there's something still, because the hand he’s gripping the pole with inches down towards hers, his thumb rubbing lightly at the fingers in her own grasp.
(The same old lady behind a paper sits a few feet away; peeps her eyes to the blossoming of love, and hides a cheeky grin.)
The silence is soothing, even when they leave the tram, strolling shoulder to shoulder. This time, he turns right with her, and walks her to the boarding house. She wonders if his heart is racing as fast as hers. And it is, Claire finds, when she leans against him to plant a kiss to his cheek, and bid him goodnight. She yearns for his steady warmth right when he turns around, a constant she could get used to, in the chaos of this world.
And as he turns into a little dot down the road, she remains on the doorstep; grazes her lips gently with her fingers.
・❥・ ・❥・ ・❥・ ・❥・ ・❥・
a/n: let me know, if you'd be interested to see more of them. :)
#the pacific x oc#the pacific#hoosier smith x oc#bill hoosier smith#hoosier smith#bill hoosier smith x oc
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