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she-wolf09231982 · 4 months

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Chapter 7- Loss

Summary: Easy Company is stuck in Bastogne and is succumbing to the cold harsh winter. Despite this, things are looking up! They are due to take the town of Foy and finally be done with the dreaded winter. Easy returns to the front line in the forest just outside of Foy. You experience your first real loss due to a senseless accident. This sends you down spiraling into a dark place, and Joe is the only one that can pull you back.

A/N: Mature audience, Joe LiebgottxFem!Medic, post D-Day, She/Her Pronouns, Y/F/N, Y/L/N, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Mentions of death, Confrontation, Military Terminology, 1940’s slang, Inappropriate Nicknames, Band of Brothers References, Mentions of Weaponry, Yiddish to English Translation, Descriptive Wounds/Injuries, Blood/Gore, Smoking, Banter, Pining, Consensual Physical Contact/PDA, FOREVER FLUFF 💚 This chapter continues from

1x6 Bastogne then transitions into 1x7 The Breaking Point

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~

Adrennes Forest, Belgium

January 2, 1945

Easy company combed through the trees of the forest in the relentless cold near the target town of Foy.

Eventually, Easy encountered sporadic machine-gun fire causing a few casualties. After Hoobler’s kill shot of a German on horseback, he finally gets a Lugar and comes back to the guys to show it off to them.

LT Compton and Lipton are having a chat about where LT Dike has disappeared to while Malarkey and Shifty are digging a foxhole nearby.

“-I haven’t seen him all day. I didn't see him coming through the woods, and I have to figure out how we ended up with-”

Lipton respectfully interrupted Buck, “-Two wounded.”

“Who?” Buck asked concerned stopping in his tracks.

“Brown and Stevenson.”

“Goddam it-” Buck looked away rolling his eyes, “Where’s Dike!? Where the hell does he ever go?”

“-I don’t know, but I wish he’d stay the hell there.” You chime in approaching the first sergeant and LT.

“Hey, Y/L/N.” Lipton greeted.

“Would be nice if he took LT Shames with him, too-” Malarkey added.

“-Shut up, guys.” Lip cautioned.

“Shutting up, Sarge.” Malarkey acknowledged.

You nod to Lip before addressing Buck, “Sir, Brown and Stevenson are stable. Me and Doc got them all patched up and ready for transport, they’re gonna be fine.” You report.

Buck gave you an approving nod, obviously relieved.

Suddenly a single gunshot sounded off too close for comfort and you all scrambled to the nearest half-dug foxhole with Malarkey, Shifty, Lip and Buck.

“Patrol?” Malarkey asked.

“No, we would’ve heard.” Lip replied.

“One man...maybe a sniper.” Buck added.

“That was no rifle.” Shifty confirmed.

“What do you see, Shift?” Buck asked.

“Nobody out there.” Shifty said.

“Are you sure?” Buck questioned.

“Uh-huh.”

One of the guys came running up. “Ah Jesus, it’s Hoob! He’s shot!” He yelled out.

“Sniper!?” Buck called back.

“Nah, nah, he—he shot himself. MEDIC!”

“Jesus Christ, I’m right here!” You shouted out over Lip’s shoulder as you leap out of the hole running.

You get to Hoobler with Perconte kneeling over him.

“It’s my fucking leg!” Hoobler cries out.

“What happened!?” Lip asked.

“What were you doing with a loaded gun in your pants!?” Buck asked Hoobler finding the Lugar next to him.

“It just went off! I wasn’t touchin’ it or nothin’! I wasn’t touchin’ it, I swear!” Hoobler responded panicked.

“Hoob, hold still dammit, I gotta cut the pants!” you bellowed at him as calmly as your voice allowed.

You lift the fabric away from Hoobler’s skin where blood soaked through his right thigh and began feverishly slicing through his uniform. It was clear by the color and saturation of the blood that he hit the main artery.

“It hurts like a son of a bitch!” Hoobler shrieked.

“We gotta pack this to make it stop.” you think outloud more so to yourself.

You pull off his belt in one fleeting motion and apply it above the wound as a tourniquet and start tightening it. Hoobler lets out a cry of pain and starts rocking side to side.

“Goddam it, hold him down! I can’t get this tight enough to stop the bleeding if he’s moving around like that!” you tell the other five men present.

You secure the belt, then dump your bag to get the sulfur and clean gauze to start packing the bullet wound.

“Keep him warm!” you tell them as you dash the sulfur onto the thigh and start stuffing with the dressing.

Doc rushed in sliding onto his knees next to you.

“Let me see it.” Doc said pushing Malarkey aside, “Y/L/N, let me get in there so I can get the bullet out.” he said noticing you were becoming fatigued.

Doc shifted over and started working Hoobler. Buck removed his coat and put it across Hoobler to keep him warm.

The guys started talking to him to keep him from passing out.

“How we doin’, Doc!?” Buck asked nervously.

“I can’t see a thing. We gotta get him back to an aid station.” Doc stated.

“Well let’s get ready to move him then!” you say with your voice shakier than you had intended.

Doc still frantically working on the leg, the rest of the boys suddenly fell silent.

“-Doc...Doc!” Buck barked.

Eugene looked up to see Hoobler laying lifeless.

Lip and Doc stare in horror panting, trying to catch their breath. You stand over all of them with a blank stare, lost in your own thoughts over what had just occurred.

“Dead...all because of his ‘treasured’ fucking Lugar...’” you thought to yourself.

This revelation made you angry. Your emotions began to boil over as you voiced your recent thoughts outwardly.

“All because of a precious Lugar!” you roared.

The six men look at you startled. You met their shocked gazes with your eyes filled to the brim with tears. As they start to spill over, you continue.

“Didn’t even need a fuckin’ Kraut to do it for him, did he!?” Your voice cracks as you ask them rhetorically, gesturing towards Hoobler.

The men all look down at the expired soldier.

You inhale loudly, tilting your head back and sniffling to try to keep the discharge from expelling from your nose. (Not very lady like).

“Malarkey,” you say sharply in a motherly tone, side eyeing him.

Don snaps his head up to look at you, jaw slightly slacked waiting for you to speak, “-if I fucking catch you risking your life looking for a Lugar after today, I will shoot you myself.” you stated harshly.

Don nodded and looked back down as you turned on your heel and stormed off.

~~~~~~~

Later, Lipton found you spaced out in a foxhole by yourself. He approached cautiously, recognizing the distant look on your face and not wanting to spook you. You sensed his presence and looked over at him with emptiness in your eyes.

“Hey, Y/F/N.” he began. Your face remains as you looked straight ahead again.

Lip sat on the edge of your foxhole, allowing his feet to dangle inside.

“You ok?” His voice was gentle and worried.

You only nod.

“Listen, uh, when you’re ready, I need you to come with me to Captain Winters to explain what happened. Just, whenever you’re ready, k?” he waited, “You know where to find me.”

It was only until he started to walk away you found whatever voice you had left.

“Sarge, we can go now.” you call out as you slowly make your way out of the hole.

As you stand before Winters and Nixon retelling the story, your voice begins to strain fighting back anger and choking down tears.

“Hoob had so many layers on him we couldn’t tell how bad the bleeding was, sir.” you pause and look down at your boots, “He was already gone by the time we got him to the aid station. The bullet went through the artery.” you finished.

“It wouldn’t have made a difference if you had known.” Nixon tried to assure.

You look at him perplexed; your face twisted up with that same rage beginning to rise in your chest.

“With all due respect, that’s where you’re wrong, sir.” you raise your voice, still trying to maintain your customs and courtesies towards him.

Winters, Nixon and Lipton shared wide eyed glances.

“Y/F/N, maybe you should-” Lip began.

“-No! This was avoidable. If Hoobler hadn’t had that Lugar, he’d be alive now!” you stated bitterly. The men were speechless as you continued

“I hear the guys go around talking about what fucking trophies they’re going to bring home from this ‘Kraut’ or that ‘Jerry,’ and you know what, sir? It makes me sick to my stomach! Do you know Perconte hasover a dozen wrist watches from dead German soldiers he’s been collecting since Normandy!? At least!” you pause to look away, to shield the view of your tears.

You release along sigh, “And now, because of a stupid German handgun that he considered a “trophy” is the reason that Hoobler is dead. No trophy or treasure is worth that.” you concluded shaking your head.

You look back at the three men with your glossed over eyes, waiting for a tentative punishment for not asking for permission to speak freely before going off.

Winters, Nixon and Lipton exchanged concerned glances.

“Y/F/N,” Winters approached you, “I’ve been noticing for awhile that the weight of the war has been anchoring you down. It gets to all of us at some point, so it’s fine to get it off your chest. As long as you keep pushing forward and lean on the guys for support.”

“Just make sure when you lose it that it’s only with us. I don’t think Sink would put up with that.” Nixon joked.

You scoffed flashing a weak smile at him.

“You’re doing good work with us. Nobody has any complaints.” Winters added.

You nod, “Thank you, sir, that means a lot coming from you.” you replied.

“In the meantime, go find Liebgott and stay with him until you’re smiling again. That kid always has something to say that makes the guys laugh.” Nixon said with a wink.

“Yes, sir.” you respond with a slight grin before leaving the three men under the tarp overhang.

~~~~~~~

You didn’t go to Joe, though. You went back to your foxhole to be alone. As the sun was setting, the air became chillier, and you found yourself uncontrollably shivering. You started to regret not finding Joe to get some extra warmth from him in his foxhole.

And as if he heard you thinking about him, Joe appears crouching over your foxhole. He remained quiet for a minute to see if it was safe to join you, but you keep your face buried in your folded arms covered by your wool blanket. Joe thought he heard you either whimpering or crying, but as he leaned in closer, he discovered you were actually humming a song to yourself.

“Hey.” Joe said softly.

You look up at him with tired blood shot eyes, red nose and peeling chapped lips. You had been crying silently in that hole all afternoon and you knew Joe would know. You attempt a weak smile then rest your chin on your knees.

Joe hopped in and plopped down next to you. He studied you for a few seconds then nudged you with his elbow. You side eye him without any additional response.

“I just talked to Lip-” he began.

You looked down.

“-He asked me if you had come to see me. Had to tell him no. He told me what happened, and that Nixon told you to come see me.” he continued.

You remained quiet, shifting from your chin to your cheek looking away from Joe.

Liebgott moved closer to you putting his arm across your shoulders. His closeness made you tremble. You wanted to lean into his chest to get warm, but you stayed put.

Joe tilted his head, “Why didn’t you come to me, Gams?” he asked, almost sounding offended.

His fingers gently gliding back and forth on your shoulder, he anxiously waits for you to answer him.

“I-I don’t know...” you muttered as you sniffled.

Joe reached for your shoulders to turn you towards him. You rotate entirely around as his hands guided your face to his. You finally look at him with tears cascading down your cheeks. Sensing how distraught you still were, he pulled you into him, embracing you tightly as he leaned against the dirt wall. You curl into him resting your head right over his chest.

“I gotchyu, doll-” he reassured then kissed the top of your head. “I’m right here.”

Joe held you, allowing you to soak his coat with your tears while you silently bawled as you wrap your arms around his torso, holding him like a lifeline. He didn’t know what else he could possibly do for you, so he occasionally planted a kiss on the side or top of your head while kneading your back or arms to give you any sort of relief.

This lasted for awhile until you were drained of tears to shed. You shifted upward to lay your head into the crook of Joe’s neck to be as close to him as possible.

“So,” Joe started, “did you really tell Malark that you’d shoot him?” he asked.

For the first time all day, you laughed. Your laughter is music to Joe’s ears as he embraces you tighter then kisses your forehead.

“I sure did.” you respond, your voice raspy and strained since you hardly said a complete sentence for hours.

“Pretty sure you scared him out of looking for that Lugar for his nephew.” Joe stated.

“Good.” you responded.

He rested his chin on top of your head.

“What were you singin’ anyway?” he asked.

You sighed, “Tu-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral.”

“Tu ra what?” Joe laughed trying to look at you.

You giggle, “By Bing Crosby? From the movie ‘Going My Way?’ You don’t know it?”

“Ah sure, I think I’ve heard it once or twice-” he responded while pulling you in closer, “-maybe you can refresh my memory?” he added.

“I don’t know, Joe, my voice is shit right now from crying.”

“Sing quietly then. Come on, for me?” he urged winking at you.

You couldn’t resist the man. You obliged him with a gentle grin.

🎶“Tu-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral-” you began subtly, “Tu-ra-loo-ra-li...”🎶

You softly serenade Joe the Irish lullaby until you drift off to sleep in his arms. He stayed with you overnight in your foxhole. His steady heartbeat and rhythmic breathing soothed your inner turmoil, allowing you the deepest sleep you’ve had in months.

~~~~~~~

You wake up sometime in the middle of the night, looking up to see Joe knocked out still holding onto you as he was before you fell asleep on him.

You move your head up and press your lips into his neck, gently placing a kiss right over the scar left behind from the wound at crossroads. He shuddered, then woke up alarmed, looking at you with hooded droopy eyes.

“Heeeeey now, Gams-” he cautioned flashing a half-concerned expression. “Whaddya tryin’ to do?” he said through a yawn with a nervous laugh while rubbing his neck where you had kissed him.

“What?” you respond partially entertained by his reaction.

He looked at you skeptically, “Come on, you know whatchyu did.” he rebuked, taking an opportunity to stretch.

You shrug at him with a coy smirk. He smiled at you cynically.

“You keep doing that shit and we’re going to have to find something to cover this foxhole, so nobody sees what I’d like to do you.” he stated, his voice gravelly and low.

You gasp as you back off him, “Joseph Liebgott!”

He chuckled, “Just giving you a fair warning, sweetheart. Don’t think I won’t.” he replied with a wink.

You felt a wave of heat rush over your entire body as you stared at him in shock by his honesty.

You scoffed, “Noted. I’ll be more mindful where and when I put my kisses.”

“Mm-hm...” Joe hummed side eyeing you suspiciously.

You feel yourself blush as you bashfully smile back at him. He pulled you back onto him.

“Go back to sleep you little tsrus (troublemaker).” he whispered in Yiddish, then kissed your forehead.

~~~~~~~

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disneeznuts · 1 year

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David x (fem) reader on a Disney cruise (Disney dream) ily

a/n: uh side note... I've never been on a cruise so I'm gonna go off of every commercial and youtube video I've seen. sorry if it's inaccurate lol.

(david kawena x reader)

summary: cruise antics with a side of sunburn

Masterlist

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"Can I back out?" You asked, inching away from the decreasing line of people. Coming into contact with skin, you looked up to meet David's gaze. However, he was focused on the view below you. Following his eyes, you saw all the bodies splashing in the pool. Looking back at you he smiled lightly.

"It's not so bad. I swear. Scout's honor," he stated, bringing up a hand to place it on his heart. With a rather unamused look you tilted your head at him. "Really, it's not that fast," he insisted.

"I'm not worried about that. What if I like, rip my swimsuit while we’re in there and everyone will-" You glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to you, leaning closer to David you whispered to him, "What if my ba hoobs fall out."

Instantly a snort left David's lips as he went to try and hide his laughter behind his arm.

"Why did you pronounce it like that?" He giggled rather childishly. You furrowed your brows at him.

"Do you see how many kids are around? What if I flash them, David? I will never forgive myself."

Calming down from his fit, the boy placed a hand on your back, reassuringly.

"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about. It's not like anything can tear it away. You're gonna be on the tube the whole time. The tubes not gonna hurt you."

Biting your lip you hesitantly took another step forward.

"If you're wrong you so owe me. For giving me false hope." David chuckled again.

"It'll be fine," he stated, placing the tube down onto the starting pad

"I've never even played golf let alone the mini version of it," You informed taking a golf club from David as he handed it to you.

"Really? I swear we did on a date once," David said, snagging a ball and maneuvering around running children to hole 1.

"Maybe we did. I don't know but I can already tell this is not my forte." You mumbled watching as David placed the tee into the ground and stepped back to line his shot and do practice swing. Looking back at you he smiled with a shrug.

"Hey, don't knock it till you try it." Looking back at the course, he leaned over and went for the hit. Smoothly the ball rolled across the mats before entering a windmill that was slowly moving and exiting back out onto the grass. Watching, it stopped just before flag.

"You are so going to win," you stated. "How am I even supposed to get it through the fan thing?"

"You'll do great. Just go for it," David insisted, walking backwards, his pole on his shoulder.

Looking rather helpless you fixed yourself into a stance that you guessed resembled David's and attempted a swing. The ball took off faster than his but still made it's way up the ramp and through the windmill, effortlessly falling on to the hole.

Jaw dropping you looked over at David who was cheering.

"See I told you. Look at that you're a natural." Laughing you waved your hand, jogging to catch up to him.

"Beginners luck."

“Ow ow ow ow- be gentle,” David whined as you smoothed aloe over his shoulders. Whispering a quiet ‘Sorry,’ you eased up on your actions.

The boy sat on the edge of the hotel rooms bed facing the TV as you kneeled behind him.

“I don’t get it. I’m in the sun literally all the time. Why am I getting burnt now?” He asked eyes fixed on the screen which was playing the The Little Mermaid.

“You didn’t drink a lot of water today. That’s probably a factor,” you hummed, capping the container. David sighed, carefully turning to fall onto his stomach, head plopping onto the sheets causing his bangs to fall in front of his eyes.

Laughing lightly at his miserable state, you joined him, resting onto you side. With your head in one hand you tucked the misplaces strands of hair behind his ear with the other.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. Responding with a small smile you continued to card through his hair with your fingers. Eyes falling shut the atmosphere became quite despite the tune of ‘Kiss The Girl’ playing in the background.

“You still want to go to our reservation?” You questioned softly as the song ended. Letting out another huff of breath David picked his head up, neck craning to look at you.

“If you want to,” he responded. Furrowing your brows you scanned across the boys features, taking in his tired eyes from the busy day, before sitting up and reaching for the remote.

“I think Finding Nemo’s next. We can watch that and order room service instead. We have all of this week still to check the restaurants out,” you offered. Placing his chin in his palm, elbow sinking into the mattress David looked over his shoulder back at the TV.

“I do like a good Merlin and Dory moment,” he mumbled.

“Sounds like a plan then,” you agreed crawling over to place a quick kiss to David’s cheek. The corner of his mouth quirked up as he turned back to you. Pushing himself up slightly, he cupped the side of your face and pulled you back to him. A small smiled edged its way onto you lips before they connected to his.

His presence disappeared as soon as it came but you followed him as he pulled back. Putting his cheeks in your palms you brought him back close to you. As you did so David shifted forward, making you fall onto the pillows. Giggling softly you placed your hands onto his shoulder to draw him closer just as you fell into another kiss.

However the sudden lurch from the man above you made you do so otherwise.

“Woah- watch the skin man. Making me feel like I’m being stung by a jellyfish,” he hissed. You winced at his reaction.

“Sorry,” you said placing your hold onto the sides of his neck to slowly pull him back in.

#lilo and stich x reader #lilo and stich #david x reader #David kawena x reader #disney x reader #Disney

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mads-weasley · 10 months

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hi! can i make a request for a Johnny Martin fic, if u write for him, of him and reader snuggled in a foxhole in Bastogne??

Follow You Anywhere

Johnny Martin x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: Hi anon! Thanks for requesting! I've never written for Johnny, so sorry if this isn't the best! this is also a really short blurb! hbo owns the rights, and this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog! Enjoy!

Summary: After a long day in Bastogne, everyone takes advantage of the little downtime they have, including the stoic Johnny Martin.

It had been a long day for Johnny when he plopped into his foxhole. They'd lost Hoobler to a self-inflicted gunshot wound, and he didn't know how much more he could take. As a sergeant, he was tasked with keeping up with his platoon, and in the Ardennes, it was harder than before.

"Hey," (y/n) whispered, stuffing her hands under her armpits. "How are the rest of the guys?"

Johnny sighed, rubbing his hand down his face. "After Hoob, they're not doing good."

She looked over at him and saw utter exhaustion. They all felt the same, but Johnny felt more than everyone thought. The stern and sharp-tongued officer cared for his men more than they would ever know, and every time he lost one, it devastated him.

Reaching over, she gently cupped his cheek, turning him towards her. "And how are you doing, Johnny?"

He silently stared at her for a while, almost like he was trying to find the words to accurately describe his pain. Johnny ended up shaking his head with slightly red-rimmed eyes.

"I'm managing."

(Y/n) pulled him closer and wrapped her arms around him as he nuzzled his face into her neck. She had to suppress a shiver from the touch of his frigid nose. "You know I'm always here, right?"

"Yeah, I know," he murmured into her neck. "I just don't want to talk about it yet."

Nodding, she leaned her head atop his and looked up at the sky above them. There wasn't much to see because of all the bad weather, but she imagined the stars shining on them brightly.

"Who would've thought you could take the stars for granted?" She asked quietly.

Johnny scoffed lightly, looking up as well. "Yeah, I'd do freaking anything just to feel the sun again. Or see the stars. It might make this a little more bearable."

An icy wind gust blew through the forest, sending snow swirling around them. In their already freezing foxhole, Johnny tucked (y/n) under his arm and covered them with the thin blanket he'd found.

"You know," she started. "When we get home, I don't know if I could live somewhere cold again after being in this place."

Johnny looked down at the shaking figure in his arms and took in the redness of her nose and cheeks, but also the beauty that radiated through. "Me too, sweetheart. I'll follow you anywhere you want to go."

"But what about Columbus?" (Y/n) asked, wide-eyed. "You can't just leave. That's where your whole life is, Johnny."

A soft smile formed on his lips at her confused expression. "Doll, as long as I'm with you, I'll be alright."

“Well then, Sergeant Martin, what do you think about Arizona?”

Tag List: @softguarnere @mrsgeorgeluz @flowers-and-fichte @inglourious-imagines @peggyvan @rebeccapearson

Let me know if you want to be added!!

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers masterlist #johnny martin #peewee martin #johnny martin x reader #johnny martin x y/n #johnny martin imagines #easy company #battle of the bulge #bastogne #fluff #johnny martin fluff #johnny martin angst #mads' fandomshurt #hurt/comfort

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mccall-muffin · 2 years

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Panic // Ron Speirs x Reader

Summary: The war is almost over, and with your company you just occupied the Eagle's Nest in Berchtesgaden. But as the war comes to a close, PTSD is starting to show its face. Luckily a handsome Captain is there to save you.

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Drinking, Slight a panic attack

A/N: This one is for the lovely @brassknucklespeirs! I hope you like it! Requests like this, makes it interesting to write, tbh! Take care of yourself and stay put!

May 4, 1945 - Eagles Nest, Berchtesgaden, Germany

Cautious and on guard, you walk through the corridors of the Eagle's Nest. You know that Hitler is dead and probably no one else is here, but you can never be too careful. Malarkey, Chuck, Popeye, More, and Ron are looking around downstairs, but you've decided to look at the upper floors. The ostentatious hallway is impressive; you have to admit.

With your gun raised, you open the door to your left. A vast room appears behind it. When you've made sure no one is here, you lower your gun before going to the window. The view up here is simply breathtaking. When you suddenly hear footsteps, you pull out your gun again and point it at the door. As Ron comes through it, you breathe a sigh of relief, and he raises his hands defensively. "Here you are," he then says, and you lower your gun. Without another word, you turn back around and look out the window.

Ron takes a few steps closer to you. "What are you doing here?" he asks, standing next to you. "It's incredible, isn't it?" you ask, ignoring his question. "How can such a cruel man have possessed such a beautiful thing," Ron says nothing but stands silently beside you. "You could almost forget the terror," you whisper, letting your gaze wander over the mountains.

"Come on. We found something you'll like," Ron says, and you follow him out of the room. Downstairs, you quickly notice what he meant. The boys have already grabbed a few bottles of champagne and are chatting happily. "Here, lieutenant," Malarkey then says, holding out a bottle to you as well. "Hitler's personal champagne stash?" you ask, looking amused at Ron, who also toasts you with a bottle.

It doesn't take long for the others to make their way up. You sit on a lounger with Harry, Nix, and Ron and celebrate. As the three men talk boisterously to each other, you how something slowly squeezes your chest, and you almost can't breathe. You stand up and walk through the stone passage. "Where are you going?" Harry calls after you. "I'll be right back."

When you are alone, you let your eyes wander over the mountains, and sadness and slight panic overcomes you. You look at the bottle in your hand and notice your breathing quicken. 'That goddamn alcohol,' you think, putting the bottle away before rubbing your face.

Again and again, images flash before your eyes. Images of soldiers dying, be it your own or the enemy's. The panic inside you grows wider and wider. More and more faces appear before you. Faces of those you have killed. They will probably haunt you all your life. Then you see Julian before you again, lying bleeding in the snow, his hand outstretched for you to save him, but there was nothing you could do. You had to leave him behind. Then Jackson, lying on the table, begging Doc not to let him die, but there was nothing you could do for him either. They were so young.

You put your hand on the stone pillar to keep your footing. Meehan, Dukeman, Muck, Penkala, Hoobs. They will all never come home again.

"Y/N?"

The sound of your name snaps you out of your thoughts. You look up, and standing in front of you is Ron, who has a thoughtful crease on his forehead as he eyes you. He walks up to you and then stops in front of you. His eyes are slightly glazed over, and you can tell immediately that he is also slightly drunk. Carefully, he raises his hand before stroking your cheek with his thumb. You didn't even notice that tears were running down your cheeks in your panic attack.

Ron's gaze is still on you, and you look into his blue eyes. "I don't like it when you cry," he says to your surprise. "I didn't mean to cry," you speak with a sigh. "It's just... This place tempts you to think." You turn away from him slightly and look off into the distance again. "You're right about that," is all he says, and you look back at him. His gaze is still on you.

"What were you thinking about?" "The ones we lost. The ones who will never get home... Sometimes it just... pops up," you say softly. Then you hang your head. "It's not fair." You feel Ron's finger under your chin as he forces you to look at him. Tears burn in your eyes again.

"You're the strongest woman I know; you know that?" Surprised, you look at him. "You stood your ground in a world of men. You survived D-Day, Carentan, Market Garden, Bastogne and Haguenau. You've witnessed the horror of war firsthand. You led the men and fought with them, and you're still standing here." Ron never ceases to amaze you. It's probably the alcohol because you've rarely heard him speak so much at once.

He puts a hand on your cheek again. "You're strong. Don't doubt it because of a few tears. When this is all over, we don't know what will happen. We will have time and think about what we have experienced. We'll have time to mourn those we've lost."

Ron's finger gently strokes your lower lip. "But more importantly, we'll have time to cherish the people we care about."

You're speechless. It's like you're seeing Ronald Speirs for the first time. The first time you really seen him. You swallow, and your heart begins to beat faster. Suddenly, Ron's lips are on yours. You feel the fine stubble of his beard brush against your skin and put your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Ron kisses you passionately before lifting you up and setting you on the stone ledge. His hands run over your sides, and you run your fingers through his hair.

For a moment, Ron stands between your legs, and you kiss. As you pull away from each other, you gently push him off of you. You bite your lip and can't suppress a smile that creeps onto your face. Ron eyes you and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. "I uh..." you begin, "I didn't know..." "You weren't supposed to," he says, and you look at him, slightly confused. "I was going to tell you, but not until it was all over. We can't afford to get distracted. We have a job to do," he then says. "And why now?" you ask. "I'm being honest with you, Y/N. I think the war is almost over. It's a matter of time before the Germans surrender." He lowers his eyes. "Seeing you like this. Struggling with yourself... It made me realize there are more important things in life. You are more important, and I wanted you to know how I feel about you, Y/N."

You let Ron's words run through your mind. Then you start to smile before standing up and putting your hands around his neck again. "Let's hope I don't get in trouble with my CO if I ever get distracted now," you grin. "I think I can have a word with him about that," Ron says, then smiles. Something that very rarely happens. "You should smile more; you know that?" The corners of Ron's mouth go up a little more. Then his lips are back on yours.

"We should get back," you whisper against his lips as you break away again. Ron nods, pressing one last kiss to your lips before stepping back from you completely. "You're right."

Together, you walk back to the other officers. Harry immediately holds out a new bottle of champagne to you before you sit down on one of the couches. "Where have you two been?" asks Harry slurring his words, and you have to laugh out loud. He's definitely had enough already. "Oh, just checking on something," you say quickly, looking to Ron, who winks at you and then puts the bottle on. Harry looks back and forth between the two of you, then grins knowingly to himself.

A while and a few bottles of champagne later, we're still joking hilariously on the couches. You're sitting next to Ron; by chance, your leg touches his, and in between, his hand brushes yours. However, since you are already drunk, the others don't notice. When Dick, together with Lip, approaches you, you look up. Harry immediately stands up and walks towards him. "Hey, Adolf. Love your Eagle's Nest. I hope you don't mind, we, we made ourselves at home. Love what you've done with the place, Dick." He grabs a bottle and holds it out to Dick, which makes you laugh. You all know he doesn't drink. "Hey, have a drink. Come on. Just so we can say we saw you do it."

Dick, however, lifts his note and looks at us in turn. "Listen up. From Corps, just came in, effective immediately. All troops stand fast on present positions," he says, and Harry stands up straight. "Standing fast," says Nix, his hands clasped behind his head. "What does that mean?" now asks Ron. You exchange a quick glance with him before your attention is drawn back to Dick. "Wanna hear it? Ready for it?" Dick then asks, and Harry starts to laugh, which in turn makes Dick laugh, which makes us laugh. "Listen up. German army's surrendered." Now we are all gobsmacked. "No shit?" you ask, and Dick nods with a smile before taking Nixon.

You get up from the couch and hug Ron. "Finally. I think you were right. The war is as good as over," you say to him, and he pushes you away from him. Once again, a smile appears on his face. "Come on, lovebirds! Get on with it," Harry then says, putting a hand on each of your shoulders and squeezing you together. "This calls for a celebration," he slurs, then turns back to Lip. Uncertainly, you look at Ron, but he shakes his head in amusement. Then he looks at you again and presses a kiss on your cheek. "Later," he whispers, and you nod.

You celebrate with the others, too, and then you let your gaze roam over your friends. Ron made something important clear to you earlier.

No matter how bad it is and how much it hurts - you have to spend time with the people who matter most to you.

#Band of Brothers #Ronald Speirs x Reader #Band of Brothers Fanfic #OneShot #This one's for you dear Bella!#Ron Speirs #Matthew Settle #hbo war #hbo series #SoftSpeirs is back!

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softguarnere · 3 months

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For Whatever We Lose

Lewis Nixon x OFC (slow burn, enemies to lovers)

Chapter Six: Lightning Strikes

Summary: As the men and women of Easy Company finish their scavenger hunt, certain things just seem to fall into place A/N: This chapter contains the worst limerick I've ever written in my life Warnings: language Taglist: @kujofam @dcyllom

Hoobler and Webster’s dynamic seems to be that the former gives him a hard time and the latter takes it in stride. They both seem to enjoy it, though, and Minerva is enjoying watching it.

Webster has a manner of expressing himself that makes him sound as if he has just stepped off the page of one of the great classics. He’s well spoken and articulate, yet there’s an awkwardness to him that makes him endearing. It probably stems from the fact that he says what he wants in the way he wants it, and then those around him have to puzzle out his meaning. Hence all the jokes at his expense. But he seems used to them, and even throws some back; he can dish it out and take it.

Minerva doesn’t mind, much to her own surprise. Webster is the type who come from money, the type who invade her beloved Outer Banks in the warmer months and build their fancy houses in the best places without care for the fact that they’re obstructing the views. The type who never notice her family, providing the fish they dine on and cleaning those big houses, manning the Life-Saving Stations and the lighthouses that keep them safe while they sail the sound on their expensive boats. Yet in his language, in his obvious love for literature and the way his eyes roam over the world around them, drinking it all in so deeply, she finds some common ground.

Of course, shortly after she joins the group, one of the men makes the obvious comment about her accent.

Very forward, Hoobler asks, “Are you Irish, or something?”

She draws a breath through her nose, reminds herself that it’s not their fault, that they don’t know any better. “I’m from North Carolina. Frisco. It’s on the Outer Banks.”

“The Outer Banks?” Webster’s eyes light up. “The Graveyard of the Atlantic. Blackbeard lived somewhere around there.”

At the mention of the pirate, something cracks in Minerva’s heart, like it’s a baseball that has just been pelted with the bat. Homerun, Webster – and he doesn’t even know it.

“Yeah. He stayed in Ocracoke.” It takes more effort than it should to add, “I grew up with a boy who was descended from him.”

“Really?”

“Jack Teach.” It’s the first time she’s said his name out loud in a long time. She’s so used to him being around that she halfway expects saying his name to summon him, somehow, like he might just appear, his grin as bright and as happy as ever. But he’s a world away. “He joined the Navy, just for the irony of it all.”

Webster chuckles. “Hell, I would, too.” Thankfully, his interest seems to be elsewhere. “Do you sail at all, Sergeant Revels?”

“Awe, man. Here we go again with the sailing. Maybe you should have joined the Navy, Webster,” Hoobler sighs.

But Minerva perks up. “With my grandpa and my dad – he’s a fisherman. I would be, if I could.”

“What’s stopping you?” Webster asks, tilting his head.

So many things. Societal convention. Her mother. Her “proper” job. Helping look after John-Michael.

“I’m too busy teaching at the school.”

“Oh, a teacher!” Hoobler whistles. “Now we’ve got two professors.”

“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.” Minerva raises an eyebrow in mock seriousness. “We could probably improve your grammar by the end of the war, Hoob.”

The rest of the group erupts into laughs, and Minerva can’t help but smile at what she’s done. Now she’s in.

By the early afternoon, Bianca just knows that the hair around her face must be in wild, lions-mane curls and that her ponytail must be frizzed beyond belief. If she were back home, her brothers would have given her grief over it by now. Then again, they don’t have this kind of humidity in New York City, so they wouldn’t actually have anything to say.

Still, she’s grateful that the men in her group don’t mention it. Having her appearance criticized always makes her feel like someone has reached into her chest, grabbed her heart, and squeezed it too tight. Although that has never stopped anyone in her family from doing it.

Storm clouds are moving in. There is no thunder – yet – but the air quivers with the very anticipation of the approaching storm that promises to unleash itself. She wishes it would. Maybe the rain would cool everything off.

“You know what?” Talbert muses. “Winters never gave us any clues about what we’re looking for.”

There’s a beat of silence while they all consider this. Then Tipper quirks an eyebrow.

“So what?”

Talbert shrugs. “None of us actually know what we’re looking for. How will we even know if we find it?”

Liebgott tilts his head, scrunches up his brow while he thinks. “He said we might find it right away, or it might take all day. The hell does that mean?”

“Is it a riddle?” Bianca suggests – quietly, just in case no one else agrees, that way they may not even hear her.

Unfortunately, they all seem to hear her. Which is maybe the first time in her life that someone has taken note of anything that she’s said.

Tipper scratches his head. “I mean, it is vague enough.”

“Aren’t riddles supposed to rhyme, though?” Liebgott asks.

Talbert frowns. “I think that’s a limerick.”

Riddles don’t have to rhyme, Bianca wants to tell them. But limericks have a specific rhyme scheme, and they’re usually just funny. Sometimes –

“What’s up, Bianca?” Liebgott asks, completely derailing her train of thought and transporting her back into the present. He watches her intently, curiously. “You look like you have something on your mind.”

She can’t tell them about the rhyme schemes – they’ll think it’s silly. Heat creeps into her cheeks at the very thought of it. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Tipper asks. “It looked like you wanted to say something.”

“It was just something silly,” she explains, waving them off.

“I like silly,” Talbert says. “Who doesn’t like a good laugh?”

The three watch her so expectantly that to say nothing somehow feels like she would be letting them down. And besides, she has to remind herself that it was Liebgott who stuck up for her when Sobel screamed at her in front of everyone for being the last one to get her rifle assembled. Surely he, of all people, wouldn’t laugh at her.

“I was just thinking,” she begins quietly. “about how riddles don’t have to rhyme. Limericks have a specific rhyme scheme, but they’re usually just funny little poems used for entertainment.”

“Huh,” Talbert marvels. “I didn’t know that.”

“So what Winters said was a riddle, then. Not a limerick.” Tipper thumps Talbert on the back of the head. “You dumbass.”

“Hey! I didn’t know!”

“So what would a limerick be?” Liebgott asks over the din of his friends trying to hit each other.

Bianca considers this for a moment, trying to remember what limited information Lieutenant Winters gave them and shaping it to fit into the limerick’s mold. Finally, she comes up with something. “To go to war with peace of mind, something waits in camp for you to find. Find it right away, or maybe take all day, we could find it if we were not so blind.”

“Hey!” Liebgott grins. “That’s really good!”

“How did you come up with that so fast?” Tipper asks. “Are you secretly a poet or something?”

“Or something.” Bianca smiles.

“Do another!” Talbert urges.

The rest of the afternoon slips by as they wander the camp, the men suggesting prompts and Bianca spouting off poetry on the fly. By the end of the day, they’re in heaps of giggles and have forgotten that they’re even supposed to be looking for something.

But as Winters watches them pass by, he smiles to himself, knowing that at least one group has found it.

The Georgia weather is not as easy to read as it is back home. Though the blue foothills roll like waves across the landscape, they reveal nothing the way that the ocean does. If they do, Minerva hasn’t figured out how to read them yet.

They do conceal things, though. The combination of the hills and the thick trees hide the oncoming storm from her, whereas at home she would have known it was coming from miles away. It’s not until her group has returned to the middle of the camp – having found nothing but having had, admittedly, a great time – that she senses the storm, and then it’s only because a cold, fat raindrop hits her square on the forehead.

“Here comes the storm,” Lieutenant Nixon notes as the quiet shuddering of raindrops on the leaves above them begins.

“Most of the groups are back,” Winters says, his eyes darting around to check everyone off a mental checklist. “There are a few stragglers, though.”

“Do you want me to go round them up?” Minerva suggests. It wouldn’t be her first rodeo. She’s often had to chase students back inside after their early afternoon breaks. This probably won’t be much different.

Winters starts to say something, only to cut himself off. He nods. “If you wouldn’t mind. Thank you, Sergeant Revels.” Then, almost as an afterthought. “Lieutenant Nixon, why don’t you help?”

Although she doesn’t really know Nixon, Minerva has never seen the expression that crosses his face – eyes widening ever so slightly in shock, before casting a look that’s almost a glare in his fellow lieutenant’s direction, then settling into a blank mask.

“Sure thing, Dick,” he quips, putting a little too much emphasis on his friend’s name.

Minerva should be thanking Lieutenant Winters. She hasn’t been paying as much attention to the men of Easy Company in the way that the other women have – her heart aches when she even considers it – but she would be a liar if she didn’t admit that the way Nixon looked at her the night they met doesn’t flash through her mind every now and then. He had clearly been flirting, despite everything at risk. And now she’s practically alone with him. Well, it’s like her mom always says: the Lord works in mysterious ways.

Nixon doesn’t look at her once while they trace the outskirts of the camp, looking for anyone from their company. Most of the other regiments and companies are inside already, waiting for the storm to start in earnest. Minerva studies any figures she sees that are still out and about. The only familiar faces are those of Anna and the group she joined, and they send them on their way to meet up with the others.

“I think that was it.” The words are no sooner out of Minerva’s mouth than a crash of thunder booms overhead, shaking the very air around them. Rain immediately begins to fall, no longer the few scattered drops from before, but a full-blown deluge that sends the two of them scrambling, trying to get out of the open in case lightning strikes.

They end up under the overhang of a building, pressed up against the whitewashed wall as they catch their breaths. For a moment, they do nothing but breathe and watch the rain falling around them, pelting off the side of the roof like a waterfall that traps them there.

Nixon huffs a laugh. “Oh, this is too perfect.”

Indeed, Minerva can’t help but find herself agreeing. Her mother’s voice is there in her head again. The Lord works in mysterious ways, Minerva-Jane. It’s almost like this was meant to be.

The lieutenant must feel the same way, because he stops watching the rain and starts watching her. He’s got an expression on his face that Minerva can’t read. Brown eyes wide and almost vulnerable, staring straight at her lips. His own lips are parted slightly as he tries to catch his breath. He looks like a man on the verge of something, deciding if he should take the plunge into waters unknown.

He’s going to kiss me, Minerva thinks. Then, heart fluttering, He’s going to kiss me!

Which is exactly what seems like is about to happen. Nixon’s soft hand reaches up and caresses her neck. He leans forward, slowly, like he’s giving her time to back out. She does the same, closing her eyes and readying herself for their lips to make contact –

Contact that never comes.

Minerva opens her eyes when she feels Nixon remove his hand from her neck. He shakes his head, not meeting her eye again.

“Sorry,” he says. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

She almost tells him that it’s okay, but she doesn’t actually feel that way. She wanted him to kiss her. And he seemed like he wanted to. So why didn’t he?

“Sorry,” he says again, holding his hands up as if in surrender. Then he steels himself and takes off into the rain, heading back to the middle of camp and leaving Minerva behind. He doesn’t even have the decency to look back at her.

“What the fuck?” Minerva mutters under her breath. She waits for him to get out of sight before she braves the rain herself, rejoining the rest of the company – and not bothering to spare a glance at the man who left her stranded without an explanation.

It’s late, but Nixon can’t seem to shake the chill of the rain outside. When no one is looking, he adds a splash of liquor from his flask to his coffee cup to help warm him up. He sips it quickly as Dick approaches the table with his water.

“I think that went rather well today,” the ginger notes with satisfaction as he takes his seat.

Nixon hums noncommittally into his coffee cup in reply. He’s sure it probably went well enough. Good for them. But he has a feeling that he knows what Dick’s comment is leading up to. Maybe he can beat him to the punch.

“Most of the men seemed to actually get along with the women pretty well,” Nixon notes. “Not as much flirting as I thought there would be.”

“Really?” Dick asks, raising his eyebrow in question.

“Yep,” Nixon admits miserably, popping the p on the end of the word. “Some of us didn’t experience any at all.”

Dick exhales, a short sigh through his nose. “I’m sorry, Nix – “

He waves his friend off. “Don’t worry about it. It’s for the best.”

And maybe it is. He had wanted to kiss Sergeant Revels – had planned on doing it – but too many things flashed through his mind all at once, lightning fast, and held him back at the last second.

Because Dick is right: what if it was Blanche? Or Anne? Which made him think of all the mail that he’s censored, all the gushing letters that he’s seen from Revels’ family . . . Which led to his own family. His father, his affairs. There was surely a time in his life when Nixon had vowed to himself that he would be a different man – a better man – than his father. He, Lewis, has a wife waiting for him. If he drags this up-and-coming sergeant into this, what will that do to her? Ruin her life. Ruin her reputation. What if it was Blanche? He couldn’t do it.

He's been so distracted with his own inner turmoil that he hasn’t really been paying attention to the other results of Dick’s scavenger hunt.

“Say, did any of the groups find what they were supposed to?”

Dick smiles. Beams is probably a better adjective; he looks so proud. “All the groups who participated found exactly what I wanted them to.”

Maybe he had been too preoccupied with his love life. He has no specific memory of anyone turning anything in to Dick, or bragging about having found . . . whatever it was they were supposed to find.

“Oh yeah? And what might that have been?”

Dick chuckles to himself in the way that someone laughing at a joke their own inner monologue has just made would. He rearranges his expression, all serious when he splays his hands like a magician performing a card trick and says, “Friendship.”

It takes a minute for it to sink in. God, how corny!

“You sneaky bastard,” Nixon scoffs. “You didn’t hide anything.”

“Nope,” Dick admits. “But everyone found what they needed to.”

Nixon has always liked Dick, but perhaps he should start giving him more credit for his cleverness.

#lewis nixon #lewis nixon x ofc #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers oc #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #for whatever we lose #oc minerva revels #my writing

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dreamybasil · 2 months

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What the fuck did you just fucking say to me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Hooby Seals, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Omori Twitter, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla document making and I'm the top sniper in the entire V.O.H. Dom_Force. You are nothing to me but just another squeaker. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before in Headspace, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with sticking your GYATT out for the rizzler? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the Omori Food Administration and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for unprecedented harassment. The shit show that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your Tumblr follower count. You're fucking dead, like Perfectheart in my Omori AU. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven ways. Not only am I extensively trained in memetic combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the Valley of Hoob Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable 7th grader ass off the face of the continent, you Omori pirater. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "scam" was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking gyatt. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price of 17 space jam DVDs. I will shit diarrhea so streaming hot after 17 taco bell menu items with cheese all over you and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo, cuz I ran out of lactose pills.

Message is to Jake btw 😀

dam aint reading all that buddy, nor basil would even willingly do that aswell

#askjakequestions #the one and only.. jake.

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malewifeoctavio · 5 months

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So I actually don't know (or forgot) your take on the Hoob cancellation arc. What is it?

And do you support all the harassment I've gotten?

seeing the first allegations and evidence, i thought you were weird just reading your google doc response, i dont know what to think

i fucking hate drama like this and im not gonna get into it further

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unloneliest · 1 year

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I posted 13,683 times in 2022

That's 13,180 more posts than 2021!

289 posts created (2%)

13,394 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@milfygerard

@lesdienne

@asterlark

@elytrians

@hoob-gooblin

I tagged 7,161 of my posts in 2022

Only 48% of my posts had no tags

#tmg - 408 posts

#mcr - 376 posts

#jam posts - 306 posts

#leverage - 302 posts

#trc - 281 posts

#q - 208 posts

#yell - 195 posts

#queer tag - 156 posts

#omgcp - 136 posts

#scream - 113 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#w last limit of bhakti i know my listening experience isn't the average i just have permanent brain worms about eliot spencer from leverage

My Top Posts in 2022:

have any tumblr tmg fans seen the sanguinare speculation? i’ve seen discussion on the subreddit - apparently there were postcards given out at the merch table last night with a qr code leading to this website (front of the postcard was the image from the website). folks on the subreddit are thinking it might be a surprise album drop, especially considering how long it’s been since they last released new music & the original plan for dark in here.

246 notes - Posted May 18, 2022

season 2 eliot..... they put gender in him

285 notes - Posted April 29, 2022

rewatching s3 e1 of leverage is like. top ten pictures taken moments before a disaster (eliot realizing he hasn't escaped moreau's influence over his life and that from here on out he will be living with either the inevitability of the team finding out about his past or the reality of them having found out). rewatching the rest of season 3 is like watching him be put through a slow motion hydraulic press. it's soooooooooooooooo

376 notes - Posted September 11, 2022

listen. i always liked werewolves more than vampires, and that’s because i just never really got the appeal of vampires - i was like, vampire-neutral. happy they existed because i know how much my friends love them. so i’m fairly certain the absolute first thing i said when i surfaced from reading @thebibliosphere‘s hunger pangs: true love bites is “i get it about vampires now.”

i absolutely did not go into reading expecting to adore vlad as much as i do, but oh my god, is this what enjoying vampires has been like for the rest of you this entire time????? why did nobody tell me! seriously!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i cannot recommend reading this enough, i’m never going to shut up about how much i love this book, & yes, that’s fully with the intent of being a fandom pied piper & dragging you all into this interest with me.

611 notes - Posted February 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

for anyone who was missing it: the annotated mountain goats is back online!

for any tmg fans who haven’t heard of the annotated mountain goats before: it’s an awesome resource for lyrics & info on songs, and it’s been an absolute cornerstone of my goats listening experience since i started listening - check it out!

736 notes - Posted February 16, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #jam posts #YELLING. here's how my blog can still be about the leverage wip i started in 2017

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geniedocroe · 3 years

Text

FOREVER YOURS

(skip muck X reader)

fluff?? idk anymore

a/n: anyways this got requested on wattpad. y’all are free to request anytime you lost xx

wc: 2136

you did not expect to have your best friend crying into your shoulder every afternoon. honestly, you didn’t expect to even be near your best friend on a day like that. you always had plans to stay home and wallow in self-pity all day. that was until skip called you.

before the war, you and skip had been closer than ever. the two of you met as pubescent kids and got into all sorts of trouble. the other people in your neighborhood had definitely deemed you both ‘partners in crime’. there were no complaints from either of you. because in all honesty, skip was in love with you and the feeling had been reciprocated. it wasn’t some sort of unrequited love that was written about in romance novels. it was just two best friends torn apart by the reality of war.

skip was quick to enlist in the airborne (something you weren’t exactly fond of) and you had stayed back at home working in some factory. for years you waited for him to come home. you dreaded getting a call from one of his family members saying they a k.i.a. letter, but thankfully they never did. to you, it felt like a lifetime since you’d seen skip. to him, it must’ve felt like seven lifetimes.

when he came home, he was exactly what you had expected. broken and empty. skip made it very clear that he didn’t want you to force yourself to be the person to fix him. you knew you couldn’t fix him because he was beyond repair, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t fill all the cracks with something new. after all, this wouldn’t happen overnight. it’d take years. maybe even decades. hell, you didn’t think he could ever snap back from this. however, that didn’t mean he couldn’t laugh or the two of you couldn’t be happy. it would come and go, like waves upon a beach. sometimes he was happier for longer, sometimes he was completely reserved and quiet. you were fine with that. it was what you signed up for.

he sobbed into your shoulder for hours on end. he must’ve been in so much physical pain. you could never cry for that long.

“it’s okay to cry. i actually think it makes a person stronger.” you’d tell him.

you loved skip. in your eyes, that was very clear. actually, it was very simple to everyone around you. if you had the chance, you would’ve laid down your life for him. the purest thing in the world was being able to look at someone and just know they were yours. through thick and thin, you had him and he had you. skip knew it, you knew it, all of your friends and family knew it.

most times he’d scream and cry, but never tell you why. you were fine with that. he fought his own battles in his mind. all you could do was sit by and watch. you couldn’t drop into his nightmares and fight away the demons with a sword. you weren’t there throughout the war. you didn’t understand what went through his mind. all you could do was listen. at first, that was all you could do. skip didn’t want to go anywhere. there wasn’t anyone he was dying to see other than you.

years had begun to pass. there was a closing rift between the two of you. though, you did stand side by side through it all. skip opened up to you. he’d try his hardest to explain why he couldn’t sleep through the night. he told you about the time he thought it was all over, and at that moment all he could think of was you. he introduced you to his airborne buddies. they’d say they heard only the best about you. skip would always pull you away before they said too much.

“i’m always gonna be here for you. just say the word and i’m there.” you’d reassure him when the goings got a little too rough.

skip loved you. you had gotten him through the war. skip could so clearly remember sitting in a foxhole and staring directly at a shell that hadn’t gone off. he could hear alex penkala’s distant voice screaming for george luz to jump in their foxhole. then he could see carwood lipton pulling george away. at that moment, he could’ve died. blown to absolute hell. in the shiny metal of the bomb, he could see the color of your eyes. the sizzling of heat hitting the snow reminded him only of your voice singing lullabies to your younger siblings. alex was asking if he was alright and skip had no idea. because you were back home in tonawanda and he was in a freezing cold forest in belgium, yet all he could see was your face.

as soon as the shelling had ceased, skip had pulled out a piece of paper. the letter was addressed to you. he poured his heart onto that paper. every little thing running through his mind was written down. yet skip never sent it. he tucked it away beside his rosary and held it close to his heart. skip never did read that letter after he folded it up. he had gone home after endless years of pain and shoved it into his sock drawer. skip promised that piece of paper was never allowed to be read unless he had grown up and asked you to marry him.

skip was not the type of person to break a promise. the two of you worked your asses off. you could make all the money in the world, but it never compared to what was right in front of you (which was skip). skip worked day and night. he did anything he could. without any trace of a romantic relationship between you two, skip bought an engagement ring. he saved up all his money for one piece of small jewelry. that same night he called you over to his house and asked you to marry him. you never knew what to say when skip had bright ideas like this one, but at that time the only answer was yes. it would only ever be yes.

the night of your wedding, skip handed you a letter that had been as worn out by the war as he was. there were tears in his eyes as you took it into your hand. the date read sometime in january of 1945. you could barely remember that time of year. however, skip looked as though he thought about it every day since then.

january 9, 1945

y/n,

not even ten minutes ago, i nearly faced death. it looked me in my own eyes and told me i was nothing. as it happened, i decided deep in my soul that i didn’t want to die. if it hadn’t been a faulty shell (a shell is a bomb, in case you didn’t know), i don’t think i would’ve felt it. i would’ve known penk was at my side and i would see luz right across from us, crawling through the snow. i think it would’ve been painless. one large blast and suddenly nothing. if i am an unfortunate victim of this war, that is how i’d like to go. no pain, just nothingness.

in case i never see you again, i just want you to know how much you mean to me. i love you more than words could ever say. by the time you’re reading this letter (if you ever are), i’m either dead or we’re married. one can only hope for the latter. hopefully, you know how much i adore you. there is no greater thing in this world than the thought of you as i feel my body getting riddled with hypothermia.

i can’t feel my toes. i haven’t been able to feel them in so, so long. tip: if you’re even in belgium, bring EXTRA socks (also wear the right clothing). it’s terribly cold here. way colder than it has ever been at home. my fingers feel like they could break with the slightest impact. i know that in a time like this, you’re probably cuddled up by the fire. we can’t have a fire here. it would alert the enemy.

the shelling rarely stops. they really are destroying us out here. the enemy knows no sort of mercy and neither do we. some of us are barely making it through this. we’ve lost some great men. i’ve lost some of my best friends. it’s never easy to see one of the toccoa men pass. we are good soldiers. winters likes to tell us that whenever he gets the opportunity.

penk has nightmares. it’s a horrible thing to witness. i have to wake him up just in case he gets a little too loud. i know i have them too, but penk never mentions it. occasionally don will come and visit us. his nightmares are the worst. i haven’t seen him since the shelling has stopped, but if he’s even alive i’ll have to hug him as tight as possible. lip is telling us to stay in our foxholes in case it starts up again. i don’t think i could move if i tried.

i keep thinking about you. i don’t remember the last time i heard from you. it must’ve been before holland. i miss you so much. i wish we were back home. i’d give anything in the world to hear your voice one last time. absolutely anything, you don’t understand. there’s nothing i wouldn’t do.

it’s horrifying out here. skinny had a leg injury and smokey was paralyzed. toye lost a leg and guarnere was badly wounded, so he will probably have to lose one too. hoob accidentally shot himself and passed away so fast that you wouldn’t have even known what happened if you weren’t there. a replacement in babe’s foxhole was shot in the neck. i hear that was a lot of blood. i can't even begin to think about all the other people we’ve lost. it’s been a long and brutal couple of weeks.

christmas was odd. i wish i had been with you, setting up your tree in your parent's living room. i always loved how it was right in the front picture window. it looked like a dream. the snow out here is far from that. i hope you put all the cute little ornaments on. i know you admire those far more than the fancy ones. your mother always hated when we made her tree look “messy”. i hope your parents are well. i wonder what they had gotten you for christmas. were there any presents addressed to me? do they sit under the christmas tree you have yet to take down? will you move them to the back of the closet in your bedroom to sit unopened for years if i never make it home? or will you give them to me the moment you see me again even if it is the middle of summer?

one day, when we’re married and have enough money to buy our own place, i want the big window. i want a big yard and big window and a great big christmas tree. every year we can buy our kids ornaments that they can eventually put on their own tree. maybe we can get a dog or a cat. i’d love to watch a cat bat its paw at the ornaments. imagine a small little dog curled up in front of the fireplace.

i think that when i get home i’m gonna have the fireplace on all year. i don’t think i’ll ever set foot in the snow again. you can take our kids sledding or out to build the snowmen. i’ll stay inside with the dog. we can make imaginary snowmen. i’ll watch you and the kids from the window.

what would we name our kids? how many would we have? where would we live? i have so many questions that i cant wait to answer. maybe by the time you’re reading this, we would’ve already made all the big decisions. tell me, what did your wedding dress look like? am i the man you married? did we elope? or did we have the super huge wedding? please tell me don, penk, and george were there. they are some of my best friends after all. i might have to invite everyone in the company. lord knows they deserve it. i owe my life to these guys. i owe my life to you. after all, i wouldn’t be writing this letter without the thought of you on my mind.

i love you, y/n. i can’t wait to hug you.

forever yours,

skip

#band of brothers #hbo war #easy company #band of brothers imagine #skip muck #skip muck x reader #skip muck imagine #warren muck

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 4 years

Text

I Pity the Grave That Tries to Keep Me From You

Bull Randleman x Reader One-shot

Summary: it’s just fluffy angst about Bull coming back from Market Garden bc I’m a soft squishy sad little tall person who is dealing with some major feels

Warnings: shitty writing (mostly cuz I don’t feel like editing WHOOPSIE), angst, fluff, rushed ending, bleh, idk man it is what it is....

Ya’ll know I listened to Hozier’s Work Song for part of this, I didn’t even try to be subtle about it.

You don’t react when Hoobler tells you about Bull.

Martin can’t look at you, but you hug him just the same.

I’m sorry he’d blurted after he returned your embrace, voice breaking painfully. I’m so fucking sorry.

But you’d just shook your head from side to side and given him the closest thing to a reassuring smile you could muster.

Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. I’m glad you’re here.

You weren’t sure how many times you’d said those three sentences since D-Day, but it was the only thing you could think of to say to your broken friends telling you through tearful apologies the names of the soldiers you all had loved and lost. As if it was their fault... as if they’d failed in keeping them safe for you.

Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. I’m glad you’re here.

Martin had let out one quiet sob against your neck before stepping back and turning and leaving. Everyone let him go.

You understood- everyone grieved differently. Your grief had to wait a bit longer- you still had things to do.

No one made to stop you when you excused yourself, Webster having the presence of mind to give you a nod when you mumbled something about checking in with Nixon.

You and Bull had always known the risk of one or both of you dying- hell, you’d even discussed the likelihood of one of you dying in front of the other. You’d mentally prepared yourself as much as you could for that inevitability.

Missing, though? Missing wasn’t sitting well with you.

Becoming an intelligence officer hadn’t been a career path you’d stumbled across by mistake- you liked information, found comfort in details and strategy.

You hated being blindsided, and since you’d been small you’d gone to great lengths to ensure you never entered a situation without being fully aware of any and all potential outcomes that could occur.

Surprises aren’t always good, my darling. Remember that.

Your mother’s words had echoed in your head the first time you’d met Bull, when he’d caught you off guard by introducing himself to you in the same manner he had introduced himself to all of the other men in Easy- with solid eye contact, a firm handshake, and a gentle drawl of “Randleman, nice to meet you.”

The idea that you wouldn’t hear his voice again, in either friendly introduction or intimate devotion, made you feel achingly hollow.

“If you think something as silly as a grave can keep me from coming home to you, you got another thing coming, Little Lady”.

“That sounds like you’re saying you’re going to haunt me, Den—”

“You should be so lucky….plus, I’d make it fun, so don’t even worry about it.”

You start to walk in earnest towards the officer’s area now, biting the insides of your cheeks in an effort not to cry.

You had to keep going.

You’d promised him you would, just as you’d made him promise in kind.

When you finally found Nixon, you instantly frowned at the bruise blossoming on his forehead.

“What happened to you?” you ask, ignoring the man’s glare and walking over to get a closer look. “Looks like you tangoed with Joe Toye’s brass knuckles and lost.”

“Got shot in the helmet.” Nix grumbles at the same time Richard perks up and squints at you while asking “Toye’s got brass knuckles?”.

You wince, both in response to Nix’s injury and your accidental snitching on Joe. “Whoops.”

Lewis’s eyes catch yours and his brow softens.

You instantly know what he’s about to bring up, and shake your head preemptively.

“Lew,” you begin with a heavy sigh, only to be shushed like a child before he spoke over you.

“They don’t know anything for sure yet.” he insisted, and you knew that he knew you saw through his bullshit.

He sometimes tried to be less pessimistic when he knew you were already way ahead of him in that department, but the two of you knew each other well enough by now for you to see it for what it was- him trying to make you feel better, coddling you to make you feel better.

Lying to make you feel better.

Information is truth, everything else is probably a lie.

Your mother was a bitter cynic, but you’d also never once known her to have her heart broken.

Maybe she’d been on to something.

“Yeah,” you’d offered, quickly brushing past him to look at the map on the table. “Maybe. Anyway, when exactly did Market Garden start going to shit? Do you think we were undermanned? Were our maps wrong? Did they have unexpected weaponry….?”

Distract the sad voice in your head offered as you threw yourself into work, using the churning pain in your belly to fuel your motivation to reclaim the town.

No one gets to hurt you and get away with it. No one gets to take Bull from you and remain unpunished.

You decided then and there that you were going to make the SS bleed for what they’d done, and you knew that if Bull were there he’d tell you to rein it in.

Got murder in your eyes, darling. What’s got you so cross?

But Bull wasn’t here. And you? You had to get over it.

It’s what he would want.

You had barely slept that night, throwing yourself into rereading all of the intelligence reports until Dick finally ordered you out of the CP tent.

At first you’d fought him on it, still too afraid of being let alone with your own thoughts. But he’d been firm, literally snatching the paperwork from your trembling hands and hovering over you until you relented.

“I don’t want to see you until morning, is that understood?”

With more patience than you deserved he’d held your coat up and helped you slip into it, making a point to pull your knit hat down over your ears before turning you in the direction of where all the soldiers were sleeping.

Even though Bull had promised to be the one to haunt you, it was you who felt like the ghost.

But, like the obedient soldier you were, you walked to the spot where you and Bull had set up camp with Perconte and Luz. Neither man happened to be there at that moment, which was a small blessing because when you saw Bull’s unattended duffel bag in the same spot he’d left it that morning you’d been unable to stop the sob that slipped past your lips.

Like a child, you’d curled around his rucksack and held it close, your fingers tracing over the airborne patches that denoted it as his.

Had it truly been this morning that you’d woken up in his embrace, groaning in sleepy protest when he refused to let you out of his arms?

“Jus’ a bit longer,” he’d mumbled, bringing a leg up and over your hip to pin you beside him. “Let the boys start fightin’ without us, we’ll catch up later…”

You wish that had been possible. You wished it could have been that simple.

Tears had leaked out of your eyes as you squeezed them shut and the next time you opened them it was morning. At some point in the night either George or Frank had tossed a wool blanket over you.

For a few glorious moments, you had thought Bull’s furnace-like chest had been what was keeping you warm. The blanket was a kindness, but an unintentionally cruel one.

After rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you’d gotten yourself ready and packed up to head out.

Bull’s duffle bag seemed to be filled with bricks as you hefted it over your shoulder with your own, and with each stride you took it only became heavier. You knew the protocol- take the deceased’s belongings to CP for redistribution and personal effects collection.

It felt like defeat, as if you were giving up on him.

Defeat and reality were seeming to become one and the same, these days.

Your throat was so tight by the time you made it to CP you were barely able to explain what you were doing to Lewis, your arm trembling as you held out the pack to him.

The moment Nix had taken it from your hands, tears began to spill from your eyes and for once you did nothing to stop them.

Nixon had been about to say something to you when Perconte rushed in breathlessly with a call of your name, almost forgetting to salute Lewis when he saw him.

“Oh! Sir. Uh, Y/N- there’s, um, something you should see—”

You glared at him, trying and failing to hide the fact that you’d been crying from your friend.

“I’m in the middle of something, Perco. Can it wait?”

In the distance you could hear the sound of truck engines, and a new anxiety began to blossom in your chest at the idea of leaving Bull behind.

“But, Y/N…” he protested, clearly tongue-tied and overexcited.

“Oh my God, what?!”

“It’s Bull!”

Your blood froze in your veins, sucking in a breath that felt too big for your body.

You could feel your heartbeat behind your eyes as your lungs screamed for more air, but your body was refusing to blink or breathe or move…..

“That’s….no. W-what’re you—?”

The sight of a truck driving toward a group of Easy and Dog soldiers came to a halt, and you swore you say a familiar glimmer of sandy curls standing at least a foot above the group.

No. There’s no fucking way….

With wide eyes you turn back to Lewis, seeing an equally confused look on his face.

You barely wait for his nod of dismissal before looking to Frank again.

“C’mon, I’ll—”

You don’t wait for him to finish, sprinting away from them with a single-minded focus on reaching the horribly familiar silhouette of the man you[d begun to mourn.

Bull Bull Bull BULL DENVER BULL!?!?

With no care for decorum or professionalism, you shove people aside and rush through the throng until you violently skid to a halt before Johnny and Hoob.

And Dever fucking Randleman.

A silent sob twists your face, vision doubling as more tears well in your eyes.

It was him. It was him.

When your eyes find his, you force yourself to take a breath.

He’s dirty and scraped and a little bloody but he’s alive and he’s here and—

You throw yourself at him, arms latching around his neck and legs locking around his hips as he catches you easily in his arms.

“Oh my God,” you whisper shakily, shaking like a leaf and clutching at him as if he were the last lifeboat in a storming sea. “Oh my GOD, Den—!”

Bull’s got one arm across your backside and the other is pressing your torso to his as if he means to fuse the two of you together, his heartbeat loud and strong and powerful against your chest as he twists his cold face into your neck and just breathes you in.

You know that Martin is trying to talk to you, that someone else is telling you to take it easy but you can barely hear them through the roaring sound of life returning to your body.

When he sighs your name you swear that you’ve never heard a sound so sweet.

As you turn your head to press a kiss to his temple, you open your eyes and blink your tears away.

Of course, once you clear your eyes, you see the mess of blood staining his shoulder.

“Jesus Christ!” you gasp, untangling yourself from him in an instant and trying to get out of his arms. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt, you idiot?!”

Bull allows you to unwrap your legs from his waist but refuses to let you go, the arm that had been under your bottom coming up to hold the back of your head lovingly.

A pained yet playful grin breaks across his lips as he eyes you. “Oh, am I?”

You smile stupidly, sniffling at his ridiculous attempt at nonchalance.

Using his hold on the back of your neck he ducks down and presses a long, meaningful kiss to your lips. You sigh into it, and just as you cup his face in your hands someone clears their throat and you’re reminded that the two of you have an audience.

When you break apart he makes sure to wrap his good arm around your shoulders, and you wince when you catch the looks of surprise being sent your way by the replacements.

Whoops, that was certainly unprofessional….

Bill Guarnere barks a laugh as you shift uncomfortably, slinging his own bag back over his shoulder.

“Shit, if that’s the hello you give to someone who’s been MIA- I’m definitely getting lost more often!”

Martin rolls his eyes, and enough people laugh that some of the tension is broken.

You turn back to Bull and try to get him to let him show you his shoulder. But Bull has never been an easy man to physically move, especially when moving is something he doesn’t want to do.

This time is no exception.

“Let me see it,” you huff, only to have him smirk and shake his head. “Denver, I could’ve made it worse, I need to make sure—”

“Nah,” he says with a shrug he immediately regrets doing. “How about you kiss it better after Roe gets a look at it, hmm?”

As you open your mouth to reply there is a cry from above that it’s time to get moving, the reminder that there are more pressing matters to attend to shaking you from your anxious worrying.

Because it’s Bull, he hollers for his men to get on the truck as if he had been with them the whole time.

“I need to go get your stuff, our stuff from CP….”

Bull shakes his head before you’ve finished talking.

“Perco’s got it,” he says with a nod in the man’s direction. “Don’tcha buddy.”

Without waiting for a reply, Bull pulls you along with him towards the trucks, refusing to let you leave his side despite your insistence that Roe needed to take care of him.

Getting into the truck, you help unbutton his shirt so Doc can start cleaning the ragged wound on his shoulder.

Bull brings your knuckles to his lips as the truck begins to move, eyes never leaving your face as he answers Gene’s rapid-fire questions about what had happened in the time Bull had been separated from the group.

“...you lost some blood, how’d you manage not to pass out?”

With a wink in your direction Bull chuckles.

“Considered it, Doc. But then I remembered my missus here was waitn’ and thought better of it.”

You shake your head admonishingly at his explanation.

“You’re really something else, you know that Bull?”

In a move that surprised both you and the Doc, Bull used his grip on your hand to pull you so you were straddling his lap.

“Course I do, Little Lady. I’m yours.”

Well, goddamn.

“Damn right, now shut up and stop flirting.”

The smile he gave you only widened at the command.

“We’ll see, darlin’. We’ll see.”

~ ~ ~ (is it trash? Yes. But is it garbage? Also yes. Love you all and thanks for reading the feels)

taglist: @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday @sunsetmando

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #bull randleman x reader #denver randleman x reader #bull randleman imagines

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rogue-durin-16 · 2 years

Text

MATCHUP FOR:

Anon

Hi! Could I have a BoB match? She/her, 5'4", a little squishy but I workout. Brown eyes, long dirty blonde hair in a bun or high pony. Thick rimmed glasses. Cancer & Hufflepuff. I like to volunteer, dance, bake, & adventure. Of my friends, I'm the funny one & also the protective big sister. Biggest flaw: I make snap lasting judgements about people, forgiveness is almost impossible when I feel wronged. All that said, I'm a sweetie. Love language is touch & acts of service. I'm a night owl.

From Band Of Brothers I Ship You With:

Donald "Hoob" Hoobler

Ship dynamic:

Protective Softie x Selfless Idiot™

Quote:

«‌You keep me safe, I'll keep you wild.»

In all honesty, I don't think you'd like him at first.

He's annoying isn't he? Okay, you might have misjudged him; he's not that annoying. Actually, he's sweet.

Yeah, he's super sweet. And kind. And fun to be around. And cute.

At some point you shift from 'ugh, why is he like that?' (derogatory), to 'ugh, why is he like that?' (affectionate).

He must be protected, mostly because he's got a heart of gold and you, as a fellow Hufflepuff Cancer, feel the need to shield him a bit from the bad in the world.

But also because he's too selfless and doesn't quite think about his own safety or self-preservation. Someone has to, and you know? It might as well be you.

He's not that dumb, he notices what you're doing and maybe or maybe not, he might go out of his way and do something extra reckless, only to trigger your protective instincts.

Truth is, you caught Hoob's eye way before he caught yours. He's not sure of what exactly was it; maybe your body, maybe your hair, maybe your humor or your warmth or that one time he saw you dancing...

Hell, for what he knows, it might as well have been your glasses.

He doesn't give it much thought either, the only important thing is that there's a charm to you, a je-ne-sais-quoi that makes him lovesick.

So if there's a way he can get your attention, he's going to exploit that.

At least until he actually puts you in danger by deliberately doing something stupid; might have earned you two punishment, or might have been a close call when it comes to your lives.

Again, he doesn't care, he just feels really guilty for doing that, and since he doesn't think an apology is going to cut it with you, he chooses instead to visibly be more careful— for your sake.

He really REALLY —i'm sorry I cannot stress this enough— REALLY wants to play with your hair. He's too nervous to ask, though, but he really wants to. Please notice and give him permission he's dying

You run up Currahee together in the night.

This boy has way too much energy and you're a night owl, so it's only fitting for you to accidentally bump into each other whilst doing an extra, way calmer lap up the mountain.

It becomes a routine.

Then one day you mention you like adventures and Hoob exchanges running up Currahee for secretly going AWOL to explore.

You scold him but give in because it's so fun and well, it was sweet of him to actually plan something like that beforehand only for you.

Once you're growing closer, your funny side comes out with him and he falls even harder because is there something you don't have?

He also loves physical contact, specially kisses on the cheek. He's going to kiss your cheek everytime he can, and it's probably gonna start with a stolen peck.

But you don't complain, so he keeps doing it.

Hoob would never wrong you, like, ever. This man is loyal to a fault, ride or die kind of person, and you get to see it rather than listen to it.

He reminds you not to make snap judgements about people, giving out as an example that you misjudged him.

Remember that I mentioned he got more careful? Well, because he's head over heels for you, now he's doing stupid things to make sure you're okay.

You two help each other grow. You remind him to have some fucking survival instincts, and he keeps your adventurous side going.

He loves when you bake. Please bake for him.

You two hug a lot. Lazy hugs after a late night dance; absent-minded side hugs through which you two try to act cool; long intense 'I thought I lost you' hugs; happiness-fueled, out of the blue hugs, etc.

And he melts in each and every one of them.

He'd die for one of your hugs. Or one of your kisses, or one of your smiles.

He tells you that a lot, and you make sure he knows he doesn't have to fucking die to get those jeez boy the survival instinct, where are they?

In all honesty, he doesn't think he needs them, when he has you.

#band of brothers fandom #band of brothers i ship you with #band of brothers matchup #donald hoobler

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sergeant-spoons · 3 years

Text

70. Marked Fate and Missed Fortune

Verity/Victor Rich

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow @vintagelavenderskies @wexhappyxfew @50svibes @tvserie-s-world @adamantiumdragonfly @ask-you-what-sir @whovian45810 @brokennerdalert

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, Perry-" George, tossing a pebble from hand to hand, dropped it in favor of interrogating the newest asset of Easy Company. "-it's been a week an' we still haven't got you a nickname."

Verity shared a wry smile with Skip and Hoobler over the top of Perry's head, from where she was leaning against the regimental water truck, not much feeling like sitting down at the moment. The most recent compatriot of the group sat cross-legged at her feet, while her friends completed the points of a messy square around them.

"And that," George went on, as dutiful as an officer detailing a forthcoming plan of attack, "is a terrible issue that must be resolved immediately."

"Good luck," Verity muttered, nudging Perry's back with her knee. The slim fellow stifled a snicker, unnoticed by George as he searched for another smooth rock to fiddle with.

"What d'you like to do? Hobbies, I mean. Fun stuff."

Verity smiled faintly to herself, recalling the night oh-so-long-ago all the way back at Toccoa where George had fired off the same line of questioning to her as he now ventured toward Perry. Then, amid the hustle and bustle of new faces, voices, and a whole new personage, she'd felt overwhelmed by his cross-examination; today, in the sunlight, surrounded by two good friends and one who she suspected would soon become a best of friends, she was glad to see Perry still relaxed, plucking lightly at the grass around his feet.

"Um... I like to bake."

"Sheesh." Skip shook his head. "You sure you're not a broad in disguise?"

Perry chuckled, and only Verity, sitting right behind him, noticed the tension seizing up his shoulders.

"Nah," she laughed for him, "he's got too sharp a jaw to be a lady."

"And you'd know that just how, Victor?" Hoobler teased, wiggling his eyebrows, but received no reply other than a rolling of the eyes.

"You tilt your head a lot," George noticed, imitating Perry, but did so with such dramatics he tipped himself sideways. Skip and Hoobs started to giggle while Verity patted Perry's shoulder.

"You don't do it that much."

"Uh-huh." George flashed a grin. "You got those big eyes, and with the tilting, I wanna say Puppy."

Perry hesitantly started to shake his head, not knowing Verity was doing the same with much greater zeal right behind him.

"Okay, okay," their friend laughed. "Not Puppy, not Puppy."

"Too cutesy," Verity considered. "Besides, I can't shake the feeling somebody else has that nickname... In another life..."

She received strange looks for this declaration, but was quickly passed over in favor of further brainstorming.

"Emerald, Em for short, 'cause o' the green eyes."

"Too girly." The objection was Skip's, quickly agreed upon.

"Buttons, 'cause he's got 'em all done up, even in this heat."

Perry looked down at himself and, blushing just a little, freed the top two buttons of his ODs.

"That wouldn't last," Hoobler contradicted, "and nobody's gonna buy your nutty story like with Red and the coats and whatever it was."

"Mini Martin, 'cause he's got that look on his face that Johnny-"

"No," everyone else refused at once, including Sergeant Martin, overhearing on his way up to the water truck.

George snapped his fingers. "I've got it! Scarecrow."

Perry seemed to consider it, but Verity made a face.

"That's nearly as bad as Perco wanting to call me 'monkey'."

"What! No, it's not." He gestured to their nickname-less companion. "He's all lanky and tall and he's got hair the color o' straw. It makes perfect sense."

Perry tipped his head. "I don't mind it."

Verity watched her new friend for a few moments, then sighed, shaking her head. "As long as you're fine with it..."

"Yeah, yeah."

George clapped Perry on the back. "You're a good sport, Bloom."

"Thanks, Luz."

"And, hey-" He grinned. "-we're all lazy, so you'll be 'Crow' soon enough, and that's a cool nickname."

Murmurs of agreement, and Perry smiled just a little, warming up to the epitaph.

"Well!" Hoobler stumbled to his feet, raising his canteen at them, and Verity narrowed her eyes at the slight swaying of his hips as he situated himself. "Cheers to the initiation being complete, et cetera, et cetera." Patting Perry on the head as he walked around him, he congratulated, "Welcome to Easy Company, Bloomsy."

Verity paused him on his way past, leaning toward his ear. "Don't tell me you've pulled a Nixon, Hoobs."

He shrugged. "So what if I have?"

She frowned and he chuckled.

"I took a bet I prob'ly shouldn't have."

"Don-"

"I just gotta finish this up-" He raised his canteen and she could tell by the sloshing of unidentified liquid within that it was still half-full. "-and then I'm done."

"It's not even noon and you're visibly tipsy."

He looked down at himself. "Am I?"

"Get yourself to the medbay, wait this one out. Tell Doc I sent you, alright?"

Her best friend smirked. "I swear, if you weren't a fella, I'd think you two were screwin' behind my back."

Happily, he did not notice the blush rapidly seeping onto her features as he turned and sauntered away. She shook her head and returned to her perch beside the truck. Toye wandered up, canteen at the ready, and they shared a mute nod of hello.

"Hey, Toye!" George waved at him as the spigot began to flow, and their companion looked over his shoulder, hands stationary. "You've met Crow, right?"

"Yes, George, he was there," Verity began to remind, but Toye let out a whistle that both cut her off and sent a tingle down her spine.

"Crow, huh?" He winked at the newly christened corvid. "You lucked out, kid."

"Yeah, I s'pose I did." And, for once, Perry didn't murmur a correction on his age.

Verity, scrubbing her harmonica with the hem of her shirt, glanced up to see Perry staring at the instrument. She glanced between her hand and her friend, then extended her dearest possession. Skip looked surprised, and even Toye bore a flicker of wonder in his gaze. They knew full well how thoroughly she protected and pampered that thing, and here she was, offering it to a replacement, of all people. A part of her knew this would help cement Perry's place in the company, so she felt better about the offer than if she'd made it out of sheer amusement alone.

"You play?"

"Yeah, I do." Perry reached up, yet his fingers hovered around the harmonica, not yet closing in. "I haven't seen mine since I left home."

"And that was, what, barely two months ago?" Sergeant Martin asked, apparently in a sour mood, as he screwed the cap on his drink. As Verity lightly pushed her instrument into Perry's hand, she shot him a dark look that sent even him, with the scowl for a permanent resting face, hurrying off without a second glance back.

"Ignore him, Perry." She nudged her friend's head lightly. "Go on, play something."

George chuckled. "I bet it feels good to be tellin' somebody else that, for once, eh, Red?"

"A little bit," she confessed, half-teasingly.

Perry held that precious instrument like a baby about to be baptized, and Verity, in all her recollections of the war, most often pinpointed that afternoon as the one where she realized they would be friends for a long, long time.

He raised the harmonica to his lips after taking some time to decide on a tune. When he began to play, Verity closed her eyes, listening. "Pennies From Heaven" - an excellent choice, perfect for the instrument at hand. Lively, too, so much so that, when she peeked at her friends, Verity saw George had risen to his feet and taken Skip with him to dance. Verity sent out a silent plea that nothing would interrupt the performance. Perry was good. Perry was really good. Perry was, in Verity's professional opinion, better than her. And she didn't mind it one bit.

Toye gave a low whistle, coincidentally on the same pitch as the last note of the song, and Verity offered a few claps toward him before turning her full applause to Perry. He began to blush as George dipped Skip so low he fell and took his dancing partner with him. The friends laughed, those on the ground included, and Verity and Toye offered them each a hand up.

"That was really good," Verity praised her fellow musically inclined companion over her shoulder, familiar with the bashful expression present on his features. She knew she often wore it herself, and she felt her soft spot for the fledgling of the group growing.

"Aw, thanks."

"You're sure better than I am."

Skip and George began to protest; Toye remaining silent, bearing the smallest of smirks on his lips as he leaned against the water truck, taking up her earlier position. Verity waved her clamoring friends into submission, threatening to push them down the hill if they didn't quiet.

"Ignore 'em, Perry, they're just on my side 'cause I'm a Toccoa man and you're not." She patted her friend's hand as he returned her harmonica. "You really are good. Great, even."

"Hear, hear."

Skip and George began to bicker amongst themselves about the right joke to make in opposition to Toye's quiet reckoning (one favored ear-related humor, while the other saw the simple 'hear what?' as the better way to go). Verity rolled her eyes and nearly tripped over her own pack when she turned toward the water truck, ignoring them.

"Hey, Red, you still got those brass knuckles I got you? I need a hand puttin' this fool in his place," Skip joked, and she startled, an idea zipping into her mind.

"Oh!" She stooped, searched through her pack, and withdrew the weapon of the fist, sandwiched between her extra socks and her cap, wrinkled from a month of neglect.

"Great, thanks-"

"No, Skippy, these aren't for you." She kept them away from his reaching hand as George mimed a boxer's stance, hopping from foot to foot. "These-"

Verity moved with a speed that had even Skip, watching her every move, blinking in surprise.

"-are for Perry."

Their lounging companion blinked at his palms, paler in opposition to the rest of his tanned self, and what lay newly nestled between them.

"Um, Rich?"

"Yeah?"

"Are- are you sure?"

Toye stood up straight and took Perry by the arm, drawing the shorter fellow to his feet.

"Of course, he means it. Red doesn't joke like that."

Perry flushed. "Oh." He smiled a little shyly at Verity as he was led to the most level part of the slope. "Thank you."

She grinned right back. "Just do me a favor and let Toye show you how to use 'em. Nobody better to learn from."

As the teacher of the hour brandished his own brass knuckles, dispensing his wisdom to his attentive pupil, and George tackled Skip, rolling them both down the incline in mixed curses and laughter, Verity squinted down at the medbay. She hoped to catch sight of a certain figure who she hadn't been able to speak to all day, or yesterday, or the day before that, for that matter. She missed him, she really did. He was busy, of course, after Carentan especially, and she knew him to be anything but a slacker in any duty, on or off the battlefield. It was one of the things she liked, nay, loved about him: his tireless work ethic, fueled by his genuine, deep compassion for his fellow soldiers and friends.

And lo and behold, he appeared like the angel of the wounded he was, wiping his hands on a red cloth that Verity would only realize was not red at all but made so by the blood of his unfortunate patients when she came closer. She waved to him, hurrying down the uprise, and nearly turned her ankle the wrong way on a steep portion. He shook his head rather fondly at her as she righted herself, turning pink, and waited with the patience she'd always admired in him, right from the start, until she had come to stand before him.

"Hey."

"How've you been?"

He smiled softly. "It's just me, Vee. You don't hafta make small talk."

She relaxed. "Oh. Okay. Good." A chuckle that she hoped would be taken as endearing and not nervous. "Um, Gene- I should've told you this ages ago..."

Where his heartbeat was faint just a half-second before, it now grew as loud as the pounding of a hefty drum in his ears.

Is this it?

This, what he'd waited and wished for since Toccoa on that bridge, having left it up to her all this time, certain if he did not, he would wreck everything between them- worst of all, her trust in him.

"If I'm ever found out by the wrong person- or people, God forbid -I want you to pretend you never knew."

Gene was too surprised to muster anything other than: "Why?"

She was quiet for a short while.

He wanted to take her hand. He did not.

"I don't want anything to happen to you."

He stepped toward her. She shoved her hands in her pockets and retreated the same number of paces he'd advanced.

"I'm serious, Gene. Please promise me you'll pretend." She winced. "I know it's just one more lie, but it wouldn't be for me, this time, it would be for you." She let her chin fall. "Protect yourself, alright?"

"But-"

"If they put me up against a wall and shot me-"

He flinched at the notion.

"-you wouldn't be able to do anything about it. So at least tell me you'll save yourself."

His frown dipped so far he hoped she didn't think he was glaring at her. "Don't say it like that."

"Like what?"

"Like 'you will'. Like it's gonna happen. It won't."

"Gene-"

"Not possible."

"Hey!"

She stood her ground, firmer than he expected her to. Then again, when had she not been strong, when the moment required it? He just never thought she'd have to take a stand against him.

"It is possible, very much so." A glance over his shoulder and she sagged just the slightest. "Spina's wavin' for you. I know you're busy, and I'm sorry for taking up your break, but I- I just needed you to know. To promise." A pointed look. "Which you still haven't done."

He closed his eyes, trying to face the thought of a world without her.

"No."

"No?"

"No." He dared to look at her despite the volume of fearful affection swelling in his soul, surely evident in his gaze. "If I make that promise, it's like I'm inviting it to happen. I won't. I can't."

Verity took a deep breath.

"Okay."

She stepped forward and smudged her thumb across his wrist, smoothing away the grey mark of a wayward pencil stroke.

"If it's a risk you're willing to take..."

"It is."

"Then thank you."

She squeezed his hand before letting go, and he hated how she returned herself to a three-foot distance from him, too far to touch yet just close enough for him to spy the unease lurking behind her smile.

"Take care of yourself, okay?"

"Mmm."

"I mean it, mister." She made an attempt at jokingly poking his chest, but she could not reach him, and she shook her hand out, trying to dissipate the encroaching awkwardness.

"I will."

"Good." A pause, then a light clearing of the throat. "I'll see you later, then."

He nodded. "Later."

"Yep." A step back, then another. "Okay. Bye."

He didn't want her to leave, and she didn't want to go. Somehow, neither made a move to delay her.

"Bye."

And she was gone up the hill and he was back in the medbay, the feelings long unspoken between them remaining so for yet another day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#verity/victor rich #verity/vic rich #verity/victor rich ficlet #verity/victor rich 70: marked fate and missed fortune #oc ficlet #oc fanfiction #band of brothers #in defense of chicanery #band of brothers oc ficlet #band of brothers oc #band of brothers ficlet #hbo war show #hbo war show oc #hbo war show oc ficlet #hbo war show ficlet #hbo war oc #hbo war oc ficlet #hbo war ficlet #hbo war

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lewis-winters · 3 years

Note

this isn't a love language ask but i wanted to knowmore about your hoob janovec webb pat au pretty please? they sound so cute, i hope its ok for you to share

Of course I am more than ok with sharing.

Under the cut, because it got kinda long:

Web, John, and Pat are roommates. Hoob and Cobb are their neighbors.

The boys don't see Cobb that much because he's a hissy cat who doesn't care for company and especially not Web's company because for some unknown reason, Web finds his grumpiness hilarious

Like, you know that scene where Cobb goes 'yeah? so what?' after Web drops his little Nuenen knowledge? Web doesn't actually look hurt. In fact, he laughs a little and keeps smiling.

This bitch thinks Cobb's grumpy ass is the funniest thing. And the other three boys find their whole dynamic as amusing as Cobb finds it annoying.

So every time Web is around Cobb tries to run, but Hoob and Pat and John always manage to catch him before he can go so far. Web is none the wiser.

Web and Pat are also collaborators. Web writes children's literature and Pat is his illustrator. Think Lemony Snicket and Brett Helquist.

Pat and John are gym rats. That's why they look so ripped. Web goes occasionally, but only at the behest of the two. Hoob never goes, and if he does he's always just in the coffee shop next door, waiting for the rest of his friends to come out.

I have a whole thing for Web and Janovec-- they met in college when Janovec yelled 'same sweater!' at Web from across the classroom

Web, who is a lot more childish than he likes to admit, lit up like a goddamn christmas tree and yelled back; 'same sweater!' and they've been inseparable ever since

I have a whole thing about it (that is a whole different post) but, before they became a thing, Joe thought Web and Janovec were dating.

They weren't. Janovec is straight as a pole and has a girlfriend. It's just his love language is physical touch and he doesn't have any boundaries.

Neither does Web. It's how their relationship works.

Pat thinks he's the most mature of their little group. He is wrong. It's Hoobler.

Pat wouldn't know what mature is if it bit him in the ass.

Repressed is what you are, Patthew. Repressed and a control freak. That is good for small things, like helping Web cross the street or reminding Janovec to wear a seatbelt or helping Hoob with the cooking. With big things, though, like life advice or big changes, he's as good as useless.

lbr, Hoob is the real mastermind behind getting all his friends fed and well rested. He does the equivalent of a parent hiding medicine in grapes so their kids would eat them. He always manages to convince the other three (and Cobb) to do something that's good for them.

He's the only one who remembers Pat's birthday-- and it isn't even Web or Janovec's fault because Pat deliberately doesn't tell people his birthday, he never did understand why people cared, anyway.

When Hoob greeted him in front of several people, thus spilling the beans, Pat was upset because???? dude, why???? what for????

and Hoob stared at him and was like; "Bitch, what do you have against letting the people who love you celebrate you? You're so so loved, don't you know?"

Pat maybe cried about that but shhhh it's their little secret.

Hoob is clumsy, though, and when he accidentally managed to get a turn a nailgun on himself and drive a long nail into his thigh, the other three (and Cobb) panicked so much like you have no idea.

Pat called 911 and was very calm and collected until the point Hoob was driven away by the ambulance and he had to drive himself and the two other himbos to the hospital, too.

In the end they called Joe, and he was the one who got them there in the cab.

Help them, they're useless.

#ask #david webster #pat christenson #john janovec #don hoobler #roy cobb #bob hcs #bob aus

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jean----ralphio · 3 years

Text

Ep 5 of BoB tiiiime <3

Episode 5: Crossroads, but I’m renaming it “Holy crap is this a whooper of an ep, guys. So much haaaappeeeeens. Also, I freaked out cos I thought it was Bastogne but now I’m like oh phew. That’s for Future!Laura to freak out about”.

Ready? Let’s go!

01:15 Johnny ‘unimpressed’ Martin pulling one of his patented bitch-faces in the credits, we stan.

02:31 OHHHHH IT’S IRL DICK! We love you!!!

03:45 God I love the technique they use with the shaking, ground-level camera whenever Dick is running. It’s so realistic. And how he’s gasping for breath. Not like in movies when people just seem to run forever so easily. This whole scene, the pacing and the setting, you don’t know what’s happened or what’s happening currently, all you know is he’s running and alone and breathless and it’s all so frantic and my heart just cannot take it with this fucking show you guys!

04:04 Oh God. The kid. He sorta smiles? He doesn’t get it at first. I can’t.

04:10 SCHOONDERLOGT??!! THIS PLACE IS CALLED SCHOONDERLOGT? I LOVE IT!!!

04:34 Wake up from your post-coital nap, Nix!

04:42 Genuinely thought Dick was slapping his butt LMAO

04:46 HOE DON’T DO IT

04:55 I love how Dick is horrified for exactly a split second and then he’s just like LOL. Real talk, when does he laugh around anyone but Nix? He smiles around others but not the same as when he’s with Nix, and he sure as heck doesn’t laugh. Except for maybe with Harry. But Harry’s Harry, it’s a given.

05:15 Nix has forgiven him quickly, it seems. Probably because Dick let him sit in the front seat.

05:22 They’re so married.

06:13 Don’t flirt with Dick’s husband, Hot Brit.

06:23 He just did it again, after I specifically told him not to! You’re on thin ice now, Hot Brit.

06:47 Dick hasn’t been doing his homework.

06:54 No Dick, Nix is busy with his new hot friend, go do your homework.

07:07 What happens if you make a mistake on a typewriter? Can’t backspace lol. Imagine all that typing, getting to like the last character and fucking it up.

07:26 DOGGIE!

08:00 OK I’m sorry which guy was it that just burst in screaming “PENETRATION!” I need to marry them even though I’m already married, and I don’t think it was Rich. Whoever it was, I want to shake their hand, at least.

08:17 No. Do not blame Lieb for anything, ever.

08:29 Roe in action <3

08:39 “Hey Alley.” “Heyyy.” I love them. My babies <3

08:53 The boys want revenge.

09:33 Lol @ Tab, “They’re not as smart as me and you?”

10:23 ISTG I need a translation or subtitles for the hand-signals. I would hard out be chillin at the back yelling “WTF MAN. DICK! HEY DICK! I. DO. NOT. UNDERSTAND. YOU.” And then we’d all die cos they’d hear.

10:26 RICH! IT’S RICH YOU GUYS!!!

11:22 RICH <3

12:14 LMAO Lieb is so excited.

12:33 Dick is so fucking smart, making sure everyone has a target to eliminate so they’re not outnumbered for long and the most immediate threats are taken care of <3

12:38 RICH <3 It’s so cool to see him doing his mortar thing, not just comic relief or providing me with dopamine by simply existing.

14:29 The gunshots and then crossing to the typewriter keys ugh this shooooooow

15:40 Enter?? LMFAO Who says that!! Oh look, Nix has come to apologize for encouraging the flirtatious Hot Brit. He missed you <3

15:52 Dick is in love with Nix. And Nix is in love with Dick. Husbands <3

16:15 This entire exchange is the most A+ flirting. I love how Dick just plants the thought and leaves it to Nix. He doesn’t push. He accepts Nix as he is and <3’s him

16:59 LOL @ Nix “That’s not literature… say ‘we’ a lot,” so supportive and helpful.

17:35 Nervous boys

17:41 Johnny ‘unimpressed’ Martin is starting to bitch-face, watch out…

17:52 Oh no.

18:12 Lol @ Lieb, you can see he’s yelling

18:35 Dick looks so BAMF

19:11 Hoob, it’s not a competition!

20:00 Web <3

20:08 Johnny, chill!

20:48 Oh Web. “Jesus Christ, they got me!” Rivalling Buck for being dramatic af, baby

21:24 Aw Dick

21:36 Lieb find some chill for once in your life. Are you upset Web got hurt?

21:42 Do not speak to your father that way!

21:59 You’re in time-out, young man!

22:17 Ross McCall is freaking hot omg. LMAO @ Lieb though, his Dad is not happy and now he’s grounded.

22:30 No, Web, no one believes much of what you say tbh, sweetie. Still <3 you though.

24:01 You can tell it’s Nix by the way he walks and his shoulders <3333

24:16 Nix doesn’t know who that is aw

24:34 Aw Nix trying to be comforting and supportive the way Dick was to him earlier. But his husband is too moody.

25:53 I love that Sink asks it that way, “How would you feel?” Rather than surprise bitch you’re doing it. I mean you don’t say no to that kinda thing but still. Sink = <3 He’s such a babe

26:16 RICH! EVERYONE STOP, NOTHING ELSE WILL EVER MATTER IT’S RICH. I was starting to miss him in case you couldn’t tell. Lol wtf is he doing to Penk’s ear, and why with a spoon??!!

26:26 Aw Dick. He wants to know his sons will be well looked after by their new stepdad.

26:35 ROE <3

26:47 Nix couldn’t stay away long

27:05 NIX! No!

27:14 LMAO bacon sandwich. Loves how Dick gives the report to Nix, not his orderly.

27:26 He missed you obvs

28:13 Moose, you look after his sons!

28:29 Aw Dick can’t let go <3

28:38 Nix’s resigned little sigh and shoulder slump aha

28:54 Bull! Missed you! As identifiable as ever by the cigar… but is now the best time to be smoking it??

29:31 Their code is Leicester Square! So cute!

29:46 Lieb is so eager for blood-shed

30:40 Aw they gave Moose a beret!

30:39 Dick is jealous he doesn’t get a beret! But he’s so happy his sons are safe.

31:17 I always scream.

31:50 Roe <3 “Mo’phine.”

32:11 “You oughtta. You are officers, you are grown-ups! You oughtta know!” ICONIC. My heart. His faaaaace. Shane Taylor <3333

32:19 The bloody handprint omg

32:46 The boss jacket returns <3

33:11 Nix is so proud.

33:41 We missed you Bill <3

33:48 Dad’s a busy man now Bill.

34:25 “I don’t wanna see another piece of paper!” Dick is always such a mood. Never change, Dick <3

34:20 Whatcha doing, Nix? About to propose? God I wish. You know Dick would say yes.

34:35 Don’t interrupt the proposal, Harry!

34:42 Dick and I are just both going to pretend we didn’t hear that, Nix. Canon not accepted.

34:59 Dick would rather be with you tbh

35:30 So they all just sit around in parade dress? Wait is that parade dress? It is, isn’t it? Someone @ me?

35:34 Rude

36:05 Dick. Don’t stare at the child, Dick.

36:52 Dick. Stop. Seriously.

38:05 Can’t tell if that’s cute or weird tbh

38:31 He’s moping cos he misses Nix

39:03 Unf

39:30 Joe/Charlie <3 Missed you

39:38 I don’t know what I love more, Luz being such a troll or Rich. Hang on, what am I saying. Rich.

39:44 RICCCHHHH

39:48 Iconic. ILY Rich

40:00 Easy Mum and Joe/Charlie are so mad lmao. The just wanna watch the movie, shut up kids.

40:17 Dad’s back, Buck, it’s OK now.

40:42 Oh Buck </3

40:57 Joe/Charlie is about to shank you, Luz, stop.

41:02 Iconic.

41:19 Who dis bitch?

41:23 All I see is Rich.

41:34 Rich! Dramatic af

42:02 Oh Buck </3

42:42 Dad’s not happy

43:09 Dad’s. Not. Happy.

43:54 Babe looking cute <3

44:09 Rich <33333333

44:40 Stop hazing the new kid, guys!

45:14 Rich LMAO “We can’t be in Hell, it’s too damn cold!” We <3 you

46:11 Strayer’s a bit useless, let’s be honest

46:31 Babe <3

47:50 LMAO JIMMY FALLON

48:00 Joe/Charlie just wants all the ammo

48:22 RICH

48:38 “We’re paratroopers, lieutenant, we’re supposed to be surrounded.” Dick you are an icon.

49:31 ITS RICH

49:54 Love that, Dick walking in the space between the rows of his men <3

50:19 So ominous 0.o

In conclusion, I love this show.

#band of brothers #liveblog #winnix #ep 5 #hits right in the feels

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mccall-muffin · 2 years

Note

Hello my love! I saw your tags about more Lipton content, and since you're looking for prompts, I was wondering if I could request something with him? Because you are absolutely right, he needs more fics 😌 Fluff, angst, anything - it's up to you! 😉 Thank you bestie! 💕🕊️

Well, well, well - I guess, that one's on me 😋😋 Thank you so much for the request, love 🥰

This is for you my bestie @softguarnere! I really hope you like it and as for the topics...: why not a little bit of everything!

What lasts long finally becomes good // Carwood Lipton x Reader

Warnings: Language, War, Fluff

January 16, 1945 - Rachamps, Belgium

You sit in the church and stare at nothing, completely downtrodden. The last month was pure horror, and now you're glad to have a roof over your head for the first time in a long time. You already thought that your limbs couldn't get warm anymore, but now this seems to be the case. With half an ear, you listen to the choir organized by the nuns, but the sound of the explosions is still ringing in your head.

You rest your elbows on your legs and rub your face.

"Here," someone in front of you then says, and you look up. It's George, holding out a cup to you. "Hot coffee... Should revive your spirits," he adds, and you accept the cup gratefully. George drops down on the bench beside you and sighs deeply. You carefully bring the cup to your mouth and sip. The warm liquid flows through you, warming you from the inside. "That was just what I needed," you say softly, smiling tiredly at George from the side. "I'm glad I could help."

The two of you sit silently next to each other, continuing to stare at each other and sip your coffee. Suddenly, George nudges you and points his head forward. You spot Lip and Speirs talking to each other when you look up. "What do you think it's about?" asks George, and you shrug before averting your eyes again.

"Everything okay between you and Lip?" Now you look at George again. "I don't know," you sigh after a while. "I haven't talked to Lip since... Not really talked to him since the incident with Hoobs." George frowns. "Why is that?" You shake your head, sighing. "I don't know. I had my duties, and he had his, I guess." "Y/N..." "Just leave it alone, please, George," you interrupt him immediately.

Lip and you got along very well from the beginning. Since the first day, you joined them in Toccoa. In the start, Lip was just your friend, but as time passed, you quickly realized that you felt more for him than friendship. The men noticed this too, and of course, they didn't let it stop them from teasing you about it.

You were sure Lip felt the same way about you as you did about him, even though he never told you or moved in that direction. He's too reserved and correct for that, precisely the qualities you value so much in him.

Even when you went to war and faced the threat of one of you dying almost every day, that didn't change. Except for occasional hugs, light hand-holding, or intimate conversations in the foxholes, nothing more ever happened. You share Lip's opinion here that this has no place in war. And yet your feelings have not vanished into thin air; no, they have only intensified since then.

You dare another glance at Lip, who is reading something but seems to sense your gaze because, at that moment, he raises his head and looks at you.

For a few seconds that feel like hours, your eye contact lingers. Then you break off, zip up your jacket, and leave the church. "Hey, where are you going?" calls George after you, but you ignore him.

Outside, you fight back the tears. Your breathing quickens, and with trembling fingers, you light a smoke. Immediately, the cold creeps back into your body. With your free hand, you rub your arm, trying to warm it somehow. As you blow out the smoke, you shiver.

"You shouldn't be out here. It's warm inside; you can warm up there. We've spent enough time in the cold for now.,"

You don't need to turn around to know who is followed outside. Keeping your eyes fixed on the house across the street, you take another drag of your smoke. "Ah, now you're talking to me?" you ask, your lip quivering. Lip steps closer to you. He doesn't say anything at first before standing right next to you. "Y/N... I... I didn't know what to do..." Now you look at him but immediately turn away from him again.

Your eyes start to burn again. Hoobs was your best friend. You loved spending time with him. He was funny and always upbeat, and through him, you could forget the horrors of war for a while. And then came that fucking Luger. The fucking Luger he was talking about since fucking Normandy. And on which he finally got his hands on. You were with him in his final seconds, at least. You held his hand and tried to comfort him. You told him that everything was going to be okay. When he was gone, you were angry. Angry with him that he broke his promise that you two would go home together after this fucking war is over. Angry at the Krauts, for having these stupid guns everyone wants to get. Angry at god that he took your best friend.

You sat in your foxhole for hours, waiting for Lip to come to you and hold you, but he never did. He never told you that he will be there for you, no matter what happens. He never held you, rubbed your back, and told you that the place Hoobs is now is much safer and nicer than the cold hell you were in. He just never came to you.

Lip hesitantly raises a hand and wants to put it on your shoulder, but you immediately take a step away from him. "I needed you, you know," you say quietly, your eyes fixed on the floor. "I know," he whispers back. "And I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you. I just didn't know what I could say or do to help you." "You didn't have to say or do anything; you just had to be there."

You look up at Lip again. "I felt so alone when - when Hoobs was gone. And then Bill and Joe and Muck and Penkala, too... I didn't know what to do anymore. I didn't know how to survive the whole thing. I know you had to do a lot, Lip, with Dike and all, but..." You break off. "But you still needed me." You nod. "I still need you."

Now you look at him again. Tears glisten in your eyes. Lip blinks a few times before closing the gap between you and hugging you. You bury your head against his chest and wrap your arms around him. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. It won't happen again, I promise. Do you forgive me?" You nod. "I would forgive you anything, Carwood."

As you break away from each other again, you quickly wipe away the tear that strayed onto your cheek. Lip smiles softly at you and gently holds your hand as his thumb draws circles on the back of your hand.

Then, however, he begins to cough. And it doesn't sound pleasant at all. You raise your eyebrows. "Come on. Let's get you back inside before you catch pneumonia."

February 5, 1945 - Haguenau, France

As you predicted to Lip, he has indeed caught pneumonia that won't go away.

Exhausted, you sit on one of the beds of the second platoon and wait. Waiting for new orders. Anything. Suddenly, Malarkey comes into the room. "Y/N, Captain Speirs is looking for you," he says, looking at you. Malarkey is even worse off than you are, you realize. You nod to him and stand up.

When you arrive at the CP, you immediately spot Lip snuggled up on a sofa, still looking bad. You smile tiredly at him, then walk up to Speirs. "Captain Speirs?" you ask when you spot him. "Yes, Y/N. I was thinking of pulling you back from the front lines for a moment and stationing you here in the CP," he says, and you look at him in surprise. "You can help Luz and..." He pauses for a moment. "Take care of Lipton. I want him to finally get better."

Speirs turns away from you again and walks over to Winters and Nixon. You look after him for a moment before turning to Lip. You walk hesitantly toward him. "How are you doing?" you ask, and he looks up. He straightens up a bit but then immediately coughs again. "Still the same," he then says. "Can I get you anything?" Lip takes a deep breath and then looks at you again. "A... A cup of coffee would be nice," he says, and you nod before getting him one.

You hold it out to him and then prop yourself on the backrest as you watch him take a sip. "What are you doing here, anyway?" he asks after a while. "Speirs told me to take care of you." Just as Lip is about to say something, someone you didn't expect enters the CP. It's Webster.

George also enters the CP at that moment. "Hey, Y/N, I hear you get to play nurse?" he says, and you look at him, rolling your eyes. Then he, too, spots Webster. "Well, look who's here," he says less euphorically. " Yeah. Sergeant Lipton?" he then turns to Lip. You watch Web closely. "Feeling all right?" he asks, and you stand up. "He's got pneumonia," you say directly, walking up to Web. "I'm sorry to hear that." "What are you sorry about?" you now gift Web and push past him to grab the pot of coffee again to top Lip off. "He's alive; he's got a couch, a blanket, snug as a bug." "Come on, Y/N. Give him some slack," Lip quietly says, and you look at him.

Web looks at you in irritation. You've never been this averse to him before. He clears his throat. "Yeah. Sgt. Malarkey said to check with the CO if I should be in 2nd Platoon." Lip holds your gaze for a moment before turning to Web. "Have a seat, Webster. We'll get you situated."

Web sits down as Lip instructed. "How long have you been sick?" he asks. "Long enough," you interject. "And now let him. Let him get some rest. Speirs will be here in a minute." You watch Lip close his eyes, slightly annoyed. "Y/N? Can you do me a favor?" "Sure." "Find Doc and ask him if he has any penicillin left." You know exactly what Lip's trying to do with this. He doesn't want you to keep giving Web a hard time, which is why he's sending you away. Briefly, you look at him a little annoyed before leaving the CP and looking for Doc.

When you return to Lip a little later with penicillin in your pocket, you quickly realize something is wrong. You immediately kneel down to him. "What's wrong?" you ask, taking his hand in yours. He looks up, and his forehead is adorned with his typical, thoughtful wrinkle that always becomes visible when he's convulsively thinking.

Lip looks around briefly to make sure no one else is listening. "They're planning a patrol to the other side of the river, and they want Malarkey to lead it." "What?!" you ask, surprised. "Malarkey? That... They can't do that! He needs a break." Lip nods at you in agreement.

Then he lifts his hand and puts it on your cheek. "I'm glad you don't have to go, Y/N," he almost whispers, and you don't know if his action comes because of the fever or not. He tenderly strokes your cheek with his thumb and, very gently, your lip. You look at him in surprise. You notice him leaning forward a little, but then you hear footsteps approaching. You look up quickly and pull away from Lip.

Speirs enters the room and eyes you both briefly. "First sergeant? Can you make it to brief the men?" he then asks, and Lip nods. "Yes, I can," he says and stands up with a struggle. "Good, then both of you get a shower right away. You've got the tents set up," Speirs continues, looking at you and Lip. You nod and then follow Lip outside.

February 22, 1945 - Haguenau, France

Lip is finally feeling better. His fever is gone, and the cough is almost gone. You are helping George carry away some boxes when you see Lip join the other officers. He looks at you briefly and gives you a small smile.

"I guess this is it," George says next to you, also looking over at the group. "What do you mean?" you ask, irritated. "Didn't you catch it? Don't tell me you didn't hear it." You continue to look at George in confusion.

"Lips battelfied commission."

Again, you look to the officers. Winters, Nixon, Speirs, and Welsh, who is also back, shake Lip's hand. "Damn, I totally forgot," you mutter to yourself.

"Gonna be even harder for you now, huh?" "What the fuck are you talking about, George?" George has his typical grin on his face. "Well... Two enlisted soldiers between themselves are fine to do what they want... Most of the time, at least. But an officer and an enlisted - I don't know." You punch George on the shoulder. "Shut up, Luz! That's not how it is between Lip and me." "Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that, Y/N."

"Just shut up, George. I'll take these quickly to OP2," you then say, grabbing two boxes before leaving the house.

"Hey," Lip calls after you, following you out of the house. "Hey," you say as well, looking at him and then continuing through one of the alleys. Lip is still following you. "Wait, give me those," he says, reaching for the boxes. When he grazes your hand, however, you are startled and drop it.

You stand there, stunned, and look at Lip. He looks at you, too. And then you don't care. You step forward, take Lip's face, and finally kiss him. Lip, as expected, is completely overwhelmed and taken aback by your action, so you immediately pull away from him. You lower your eyes and take a step back.

"I'm - I'm sorry. I... I shouldn't have done that," you mumble, barely daring to look him in the eye. "Y/N," he says quietly, and you look up again. Lip's expression is gentle, and he smiles slightly before taking a step forward. Now it's he who takes your face in his hands. He studies your face before leaning down and kissing you tenderly.

You put your arms around him and pull him a little closer to you. You feel Lip smile against your lips.

Suddenly you feel his tongue brush your lower lip, and you automatically open your mouth. Lip's hands are on your hips now, and you have yours around his neck. Enjoying each other, you both stand in the alley and kiss passionately.

Then, as Lip pulls away from you, he smiles at you. "That was..." you whisper, but he immediately silences you with another quick kiss. "Late," he then says, which makes you laugh. You lean back against the wall of the house and look at him. Lip bites his lips but can't hide a smile.

"Hey, Y/N!" then calls George, who is just turning the corner. "The boxes aren't going to carry themselves to OP2." Instantly, you're back to reality. "Oh yeah," you say quickly and want to bend down for the boxes, but Lip is faster. "I'll take these," he says, already picking up the boxes. "You know you don't have to do that, right?" you ask, amused, and he nods at you with a smile.

Once you've dropped off the errands at OP2, you make your way back to the CP.

Suddenly, however, Lip grabs you, presses you against the wall, and his lips back on yours. Surprised and out of breath, you look at him. "Who are you? And what have you done with the reticent Carwood Lipton?" you ask, amused, but Lip looks at you. "I love you."

The smile on your face disappears, giving way to exuberance. "What?" Lip, who must have just realized what he said too, becomes slightly unsure. "I... I love you, Y/N." "Holy shit!" Lip raises his eyebrows, then frowns. Spotting his look, you immediately put a hand on his arm. "No, no! I'm... I'm sorry. I just didn't expect that" you say quickly, and Lip hangs his head before taking a step back. "And I didn't mean it," you say with your eyes closed and shaking your head, annoyed at your own stupidity.

You grab Lip by his jacket and pull him to you. "I love you too," you say before kissing him again.

#Band of Brothers #Requests :D #Carwood Lipton x Reader #BoB x Reader #Lipton x Reader #bobedit #hbo war #hbo series #For my BESTIE!#THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST #Donnie Wahlberg

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