#joe liebgott fanfic
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Love vs. Hate - Part 24 // Joe Liebgott x OC
Summary: Just as Liv was finally reunited with Joe, they are being separated once more. Her only light - Don. But then the horrors of war show their ugly face once more.
Warnings: Language, war wounds, loss
A/N: Have I already said that I kinda *hate* writing these things in Bastogne... It makes me feel sad :( And it only gets worse guys.
Here is my Masterlist
Taglist: @brassknucklespeirs, @liebgotts-lovergirl, @lieutenant-speirs, @mads-weasley, @emmylindersson
Late in the afternoon on January 3, we returned to our old position in the woods overlooking Foy. And it was a massacre. I walked next to Don, looking around, wondering what kind of hell the men must've been through.
"Holy fuck", I breathe and look at Don, who frowns.
Suddenly, we hear Joe Toye behind us, calling out. "You gotta be fucking kidding me. Someone's gonna die. Someone's gonna fucking die. Guarnere, look at this shit!"
I walked over to Joe. "What's got your panties in a bunch, Joe?"
"One of those 1st Battalion fuckers took a dump in my foxhole", he answers, and I lift my eyebrow, looking at him.
"I think they shit in everyone's foxhole, Joe," Bill chimes in and looks around. We are all thinking the same, as Bill says it. "I don't think they wanted to spend much time above ground."
While we were in the Bois Jacques, the Germans had been shelling our old position. There were signs of tree bursts everywhere. That got our attention.
As I navigate my way back to the foxhole that Don, Bill, and I have begrudgingly come to call 'home', the weight of command sits heavily on my shoulders, yet the camaraderie among us offers a peculiar comfort in this hellscape. The sight of the shattered woods, a grim reminder of the fury unleashed upon us, fails to dampen the spirit of defiance that binds us together.
Settling into the cramped space with Don, I catch him casting a sidelong glance, the kind that speaks volumes without a word needing to be passed between us. "I meant to ask you before... How did it go with Babe?" he finally inquires, his voice a mix of concern and curiosity. The question hangs in the air, a ghost of our last mission that had almost broken us.
Taking a deep breath, I recount the ordeal, not sparing the details of the harrowing decision to retreat under fire, leaving Julian's body behind. It was a moment that tested us all, pushing us to the brink of what we thought we could endure. "Babe was... devastated," I begin, the memory still fresh, painful. "He thought we'd left Julian behind for good. That we'd abandoned not just a fellow soldier, but a promise."
I pause, the weight of leadership and the decisions it forces upon you never getting lighter, only more familiar. "But we went back for him," I continue, the resolve in my voice mirroring the determination that had surged through us that day. "Took a few men, dodged more bullets than I care to count, and we got Julian. Got him and his belongings," I add, the tangible proof of our success being the personal effects we managed to salvage — a class ring, a wallet, and a watch, symbols of a life cut tragically short.
Don listens intently, his expression a mix of relief and respect. "And Babe?" he probes further, knowing all too well the emotional turmoil that must have followed.
A small smile tugs at my lips as I remember Babe's reaction. "Let's just say, he was more than relieved. He hugged me so tight I thought he might never let go," I admit, the raw emotion of the moment breaking through the soldier's facade I've had to maintain. "He understood then, the choices we have to make. That sometimes leadership isn't about the hard call, but about going back to make things right, even when the odds are against us."
Don nudges me gently, breaking the silence that had settled between us as we took refuge in the dimly lit foxhole, the sounds of war a constant echo in the background. "So, you finally saw Joe again, huh?" he asks, a hint of mischief in his tone, but not without a genuine interest. His gaze drifts to the scar beneath my eye, a permanent reminder of the war's brutality, now seen by Joe for the first time.
With a heavy sigh, I nod, the memory of the encounter flooding back with vivid clarity. "Yeah, I did," I start, the cold of the night biting at my skin, yet the warmth of the memory offering a temporary respite. "He... he saw this," I gesture to my scar, the words trailing off as the image of Joe stepping closer, his hand gently lifting my chin to meet his gaze, replays in my mind.
Don, sensing the depth of the moment, leans in closer, the flicker of interest in his eyes now mixed with concern. "How'd that go?" he prods gently, rolling a cigarette between his fingers, a habit that offers him a semblance of normalcy in the chaos that surrounds us.
Taking a deep breath, I let the scenes unfold, painting the picture of that raw, vulnerable exchange. "It was intense," I confess, the cold seeping through the fabric of my uniform doing little to dampen the warmth that memory ignites within me. "He just... wrapped me in his arms, Don. Said the only thing that mattered was that I was alive, standing in front of him." The words tumble out, a mix of awe and disbelief at the depth of emotion Joe had displayed.
The mention of tears and the overwhelming comfort found in Joe's embrace brings a softness to Don's usually playful demeanor. "God damn," he murmurs, lighting the cigarette now perched between his lips, the glow briefly illuminating his face in the darkness. "Sounds like a goddamn movie scene, Sweetheart."
I chuckle, despite the seriousness of our conversation. "Felt like it, too," I admit, the reality of the war creeping back as the sound of distant artillery fire reminds us of our present. "He said he missed me, Don. That he couldn't stop thinking about me. And I... I told him the same."
Don takes a drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling into the night air, a silent testament to our shared anxieties and fears. "You two are something else, you know that?" he says, exhaling slowly. "Fucking war tearing everything apart, and here you two are, finding your way back to each other."
The conversation shifts then, to the uncertainty of tomorrow, the constant danger we face, and the stark reality that any moment could be our last. Yet, in recounting that moment with Joe, a glimmer of hope flickers to life in the depths of my heart.
"Yeah," I agree, a wistful smile playing on my lips. The weight of Joe's words, the promise of a future uncertain yet filled with the possibility of moments stolen from the clutches of war, settles around us like a blanket, offering a semblance of comfort in the cold.
Don nods, his expression softening. "You hang onto that, Sweetheart. Whatever this fucking war throws at us, you hang onto that hope." He flicks the remnants of his cigarette into the darkness, the ember briefly lighting up the night before fading into oblivion.
"Yeah," I whisper, the resolve strengthening within me. "Together."
And as we sit in silence, the camaraderie between us a steadfast anchor amidst the chaos, I can't help but cling to the promise of a future where the war is but a distant memory, and love, in all its forms, triumphs over the desolation that seeks to consume us.
The sudden appearance of Lip cuts through the night like a knife, his voice low but firm as he reminds us of the noise and light discipline. The reminder snaps us back to reality, the gravity of our situation pressing down like a physical weight. "Don, Bill, Liv, keep it down," he says, a sharp edge to his voice that brooks no argument. "Liv, need you to make a few rounds, check on everyone."
Without a moment's hesitation, I nod, understanding the necessity of his request. "Got it, Lip," I respond, my tone equally serious. Pulling my jacket tighter around me, I step out into the cold night, the air crisp and unforgiving as I begin my rounds, the solemn responsibility of checking on my brothers-in-arms weighing heavily on my shoulders.
The camp is eerily quiet as I move from foxhole to foxhole, the muted whispers of my comrades barely breaking the silence. The tension is palpable, a silent testament to the constant threat looming over us. And then, without warning, the ominous sound of incoming bombings shatters the stillness, a terrifying harbinger of chaos.
"Incoming!" My voice cuts through the night, a desperate warning as I sprint back towards our foxhole. The echo of Lip's voice amplifies the alarm, his command carrying across the camp with urgency. "Get to cover!" he yells, mirroring my own panic.
Don's voice reaches me next, laced with concern and fear. "Liv!" he calls out, the single word a plea for my safety. My heart races, adrenaline surging as I navigate the treacherous path back, the sounds of explosions growing closer with each passing second.
Finally, I slip into our foxhole, the familiar faces of Don and Bill a sight for sore eyes. "I'm here," I pant, barely catching my breath as we huddle together, bracing for the impact. The world outside explodes into chaos, the deafening roar of bombs tearing through the night, obliterating everything in their path. We cling to each other, a desperate bid for comfort in the face of impending doom.
And then, as suddenly as it began, silence falls, a haunting absence of sound that is almost more terrifying than the bombardment itself. We remain still, barely daring to breathe, the aftermath of the attack settling around us like a heavy blanket. The smoke, the debris, the stench of explosives hanging in the air—it's a scene from a nightmare, yet all too real.
Don's hand finds mine in the darkness, his grip tight and reassuring. Bill is beside us, his presence a silent pillar of strength. We don't need words; our shared experiences, the bond forged in the crucible of war, speak volumes. In this moment, in the aftermath of terror, we are reminded of the fragility of life and the unbreakable bond that ties us together.
The silence that envelops us in the aftermath of the bombing is suffocating, a stark contrast to the chaos that had reigned moments before. We're left in a limbo, the uncertainty of whether it's truly over hanging heavy in the air. Don, ever the proactive one among us, breaks the tense silence first. "We should check if anyone was hit," he suggests, his voice low but filled with concern.
Bill, however, is quick to remind us of the grim reality we face. "That's exactly what they want, Malark" he counters, his tone grave. "For us to pop our heads up so they can pick us off." The wisdom in his words is undeniable, a hard-earned lesson from countless nights just like this one. Yet, the tension between the need to help our brothers and the instinct for self-preservation is palpable.
Then, cutting through the night, a sound none of us can ignore reaches our ears—a whimper, followed by painful moaning and then desperate cries for help. It's a sound that chills to the bone, the unmistakable voice of a man in agony.
"You hear that?" asks Don.
"Is that Joe?" adds Bill, and the three of us look in the direction the cries for help are coming from.
Recognition dawns on us simultaneously; it's Joe Toye. The realization hits like a physical blow, the urgency to act clashing with the knowledge of the risk involved.
Bill's reaction is immediate; his decision is made the moment he recognizes the voice of his best friend. "I'm going to check on him," he declares, determination etching his features. It's a testament to the bonds forged in the heat of battle, the unspoken vow to never leave a man behind.
But as he makes to move, I reach out, grabbing his arm in a desperate attempt to hold him back. "Bill, it's too dangerous," I plead, the fear of losing another person close to me making my voice tremble. The thought of Bill—or anyone else—venturing out into what could very well be a death trap is unbearable.
Bill, however, is unwavering, the resolve in his eyes unshakable. "I can't leave him out there," he states firmly, his voice laced with an emotion that brooks no argument. It's a declaration of loyalty, of the deep-seated belief that we are all we have out here, the only family within reach amidst the horrors of war.
The conflict within me is torturous. The strategic part of my mind screams that Bill's impulse, while noble, could lead to disaster. Yet, the human part, the part that has seen too much death and too much suffering, understands all too well. In this hellish landscape, where tomorrow is never promised, the bonds of friendship, of brotherhood, become our strongest lifeline.
As Bill prepares to brave the unknown for Joe, the weight of command, of responsibility, bears down on me. It's a harrowing reminder of the choices we are forced to make and the risks we take for those we consider family. In the end, all we can do is cover for him, pray, and wait, hoping against hope that both Bill and Joe make it back to us. The reality of war spares no one, but it's in these moments of selfless bravery that the true strength of our bonds is tested.
The night turns into a living nightmare as Bill disappears into the darkness, his determination to reach Joe pushing him beyond the relative safety of our foxhole. The minutes stretch into an agonizing eternity, each second ticking by with the weight of a lifetime. And then, as if the very heavens conspire against us, another barrage of bombings rains down, each explosion closer, more ferocious than the last.
Don reacts instinctively, pulling me close, our bodies pressed tightly together in a futile attempt to offer each other some semblance of protection. The ground shakes beneath us, the air filled with the deafening roar of explosions and the ear-splitting shrieks of incoming artillery. We're caught in the maelstrom, powerless against the fury unleashed around us.
As the cacophony dies down, leaving behind a ringing silence, my frustration and fear boil over. "Fucking hell, Bill's a goddamn idiot," I grumble into the darkness, anger laced with dread at the thought of what might have happened to him and Joe. My heart races, pounding against my chest as if trying to escape the inevitable truth of war's cruelty.
Don, ever the voice of reason even in the midst of chaos, catches the shift in my posture. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" he asks, his voice tight with concern.
But before I can answer, a desperate call pierces the night, cutting through the remnants of explosions and the heavy silence that follows. "Medic!" The call, repeated, becomes a beacon, guiding me towards the source, towards my duty.
"Doing my job," I say, a determined edge to my voice as I pull away from Don's protective embrace. "Stay down," I instruct him and the others I pass, each step taking me closer to the unknown.
Then, almost colliding with Lip in the dim light, I barely register his presence before the sight before us brings me to a standstill. My blood turns to ice, the scene unfolding like a grotesque tableau of war's indiscriminate brutality. There lie Bill and Joe Toye, their bodies a testament to the horror of what we're fighting against. Joe's leg is a mangled mess, blown off from the knee down, while Bill's is similarly destroyed, the carnage nearly too much to comprehend.
"Fucking hell," the words escape me, a whisper lost in the chaos. The reality hits hard, the sight of two of my brothers reduced to this state, igniting a fury and sorrow so profound it threatens to overwhelm me.
But this is no time for despair. Shaking off the shock, I kneel beside them, my training taking over as I try to assist Doc Roe with assessing their injuries. The urgency is palpable, every second counting as I help to stabilize them, to do what I can amidst the madness.
This is the reality of war, a reality we live day in and day out. It's brutal, unforgiving, and indiscriminate in its cruelty.
As Doc Roe and I work in tandem, the urgency of the situation tying our movements together with practiced efficiency, Bill's voice cuts through the tension. "Gimme a smoke, would ya?" he asks, his voice strained but tinged with that unmistakable Philly accent, rough around the edges but familiar in its resilience.
Without hesitation, I fish out a cigarette from my pack, lighting it and placing it gently between his lips. Turning to Joe, I offer him one as well, our eyes meeting in a silent exchange of solidarity and understanding. The simple act, mundane under any other circumstances, takes on a profound significance here amidst the snow and blood.
I can't help but glance back at Bill, a mix of admonishment and relief in my eyes. "Told you it was too fucking dangerous," I say, the words heavy with the weight of what could have been lost. But Bill, even in pain, manages a laugh, a sound that carries more warmth than the cold night air could ever leech from us.
"Sweetheart, you know me..." he says, the term carrying with it the weight of all the battles we've fought together, a testament to the bond forged in the crucible of war. It's a farewell, though neither of us says it, as he's loaded onto a stretcher and carried away, his silhouette disappearing into the night.
Joe follows soon after, the severity of his injuries casting a pall over the makeshift triage area. As he's taken away, the reality of the situation, the sheer brutality and randomness of it all, finally hits. I'm left kneeling in the snow, the cold seeping through my uniform, a stark reminder of the harshness of our existence.
The hand that falls on my shoulder is both unexpected and immensely comforting. Don, his presence a steady constant in the ever-changing chaos of war, stands beside me, his own grief and concern mirrored in his eyes. Don, like me, was close with Guarnere and Toye, the bonds of brotherhood tying us all together in ways that words can scarcely describe.
"Fucking hell, Liv," he murmurs, his voice a mix of anger, sorrow, and exhaustion. "This is a goddamn mess." His grip tightens, a silent show of support, of shared pain and determination to keep moving forward, no matter the cost.
"Yeah, it is," I reply, my voice low, the enormity of the night's events settling in. Together, we stand in silence, a moment of mourning for what's been lost and what's still at stake. The war rages on, indifferent to the lives it upends, the dreams it shatters.
But in this moment, there's a silent vow made between us, a promise to keep fighting, not just for our survival, but for those who can no longer stand beside us. The bond we share, strengthened by adversity, becomes our beacon in the darkness, guiding us forward in a world torn asunder by war.
As we help each other up, ready to face whatever comes next, the resolve in our hearts is clear. We will endure, we will fight, and we will remember. For Bill, for Joe, for all those we've lost. This is our burden, our honor, and our duty.
As I look up, I see George standing there, still looking down at the place where Bill and Joe just lay. I walk up to him and put my hand on his shoulder when Lip walks up to us.
"How's Buck?" he asks, and we all look over to where Buck is sitting on a log, rubbing his face. George doesn't answer. "Luz, how's Buck?"
"He- He's fine." George finally answers, and Lip looks at me.
"You sure?", Lip asks.
"Yes, he's fine," George repeats and looks at Lip.
I sigh deeply, my gaze wandering to Buck once more before I look back at Lip. "I think you should probably go talk to him now."
Lip looks back at me and slowly nods. "All right."
#Band of Brothers#Joe Liebgott x OC#Joe Liebgott#Don Malarkey#Band of Brothers fanfic#Bobedit#hbo war#hbo series#bob#Joe Liebgott fanfic#Part 24#Love vs. Hate#Joe Toye#Bill Guarnere
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I am excited about this liebgott story I have going.
I'm more excited that I will finish it and then finish the other one to be able to upload them both.
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noises in the bedroom with ron, lew, lieb, luz, and shifty
word count: 770+
warnings: reader has female genitalia, degradation (only in ron's), praise, teasing, i call nixon a whore for the reader (it's true)
notes: i couldn't include babe in this one cause i just decided that i would write for him (and therefore i must do Research) but hope you guys enjoy anyway !!
ronald speirs
big on praise-degradation, like 50/50 on it
unless you managed to really set him off (ex; make him jealous on purpose, tease him, be a brat, etc.), then don't expect very many kind words
he can be so mean and unfair when he wants to, but by the end of it he’s worshiping you like you're a deity
he’ll call you a slut but his slut, yk?
could not care less about who hears — no one's gonna confront him about it anyway with his reputation, and they're definitely not coming up to you either since they know ron is going to be death glaring them the whole time
he groans and grunts huskily + openly and encourages you to not cover up/muffle your sounds with your hand
(quickies are, of course, the exception since that would be unsafe, and if higher-ups are around, obviously he's about to care; in any other situation though, no one is safe from hearing the two of you)
lewis nixon
somehow his moans are louder than yours???
LIKE that's not a bad thing, it just means he's enjoying it just as much as you but he's just so vocal about it, saying your name or princess, doll, sweetheart like his life depended on it
(he's such a whore for you, especially when he goes down on you. you're gonna be feeling the vibrations of his groans bc omg is he obsessed with eating you out…but that's another story)
this is mostly because he also does not care who hears (same exceptions as ron). i imagine dick having to come talk to you all flustered, his face matching his hair and his eyes cast to the ground, asking you guys to keep it down
…nixon definitely didn't get any play for two weeks after that
despite being the #1 slut for you, he still manages to tease you, saying things like, “tell me how bad you want it.” (as if he doesn't want it just as bad)
joseph liebgott
he's probably the biggest pottymouth out of the five
anything he does is followed up by a hoarse “fuck, doll” or “shit, (y/n)”
he's trying to cover up the fact that he's a bit of a whiner/panter
he’ll kiss marks onto and around your breasts to muffle the sound of his moans
definitely says “yeah, you like that?” or “that feel good, baby?” during foreplay, smirking down at you while you’re begging for more (he's a little cocky with it)
becomes soft during and afterwards; he's scared to be vulnerable but he can't help telling you how pretty you look, how good you feel, and how much he loves you
will probably confess some of these things in german so he's not as vulnerable, but you still get the gist either way (and if you do understand german, he's screwed)
george luz
honestly he's just kind of unserious, like this man is giggling he's so happy to be with you (and his laughter and smile are infectious so now you're laughing too and telling him to shut up)
he’ll praise you with jokes, telling you you're prettier than any pinup model
“rita doesn't have anything on you, beautiful.” cue you rolling your eyes with a smile and telling him he’s cheesy
he's a little bit of a cusser too (especially when you play with his hair), not to the level of lieb though
“damn, (y/n), i'm lucky you're all mine.”
eventually the jokes and goofiness dissolve into him straight up telling you how good you feel around him and that you're especially gorgeous like this
+ him confessing his love for you when he's still catching his breath
“(y/n), have i ever told you how much i love you?”
“maybe 100 times today, george”
“oh so not enough then” you kiss him before he can remind you again
shifty powers
loves to praise you (and be praised honestly)
like he swears up and down that you're the most perfect girl alive
he can't believe that you're his and he's yours
kind of shy about his moans but he can't stop himself/hide them well enough because he moans at the slightest touch (he's so in love with you)
whimpers when you say he's making you feel good and “don't stop”
he's definitely asking if you're sure about anything and everything, reminding you that you don't have to go through with this if you don't absolutely want to
you just have to be like “darrell c. powers, please just take me” and lord will he oblige you with the brightest goddamn smile on his face
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taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop, @joetoyesbrassknuckles101, @samwinchesterslostshoe
#ron speirs x reader#lewis nixon x reader#joe liebgott x reader#george luz x reader#shifty powers x reader#band of brothers#band of brothers x reader#hbo war#easy company#101st airborne#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers imagine#hbo war fanfic#band of brothers imagines#ron speirs#ronald speirs#ronald speirs x reader#lewis nixon#joe liebgott#joseph liebgott x reader#joseph liebgott#george luz#shifty powers
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Hi, Dove!
It’s been awhile! I hope you’re doing well!
Sending in an request, idk where this is going😂
Okay so female reader with Liebgott and something along the lines where one of them yells “BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, YOU IDIOT!” in the middle of an argument. I’m not really sure about the rest of the details, so you can do whatever you want😂
Have a great day!
Hardheaded At Best
Joe Liebgott x reader
A/N: Hi lovely! Thanks so much for another wonderful request! I hope you enjoy it, and that you have a great day as well 💕
(This is written for the fictional depictions from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!)
Warnings: language, mentions of war
When was the last time that you felt this angry, this fired up? Some distant part of you wonders as white-hot wrath courses through your veins. Your nails dig into the soft beds of your palms, barely containing yourself as you stalk through the hallways, boots echoing off the walls of the remnants of Haguenau’s buildings. Although you think you’re doing a pretty good job of appearing calm, the people who pass you by give you concerned looks as they watch you go. Is it that obvious?
Either it’s not, or Liebgott is good at pretending. Because when you stomp into the room, he only glances up at you. He doesn’t look ready to fight, or even to throw a witty remark your way.
For a moment, you just stand before him, spluttering as you work out what to say and gasping as you try to catch your breath over the adrenaline caused by the anger surging through you. Finally, you manage to spit out the simplest question you can manage. “Joey, what did you do?”
The two of you are the only ones in the room. There’s no one else around. No one else to look cool for, to perform for. Yet Joe continues calmly smoking his cigarette. He blows a smoke ring, as if you haven’t just demanded an answer, then grinds out his cigarette and looks up at you, completely neutral.
“I did what I had to do.”
“Am I the only person in second platoon not going on this patrol?” You wonder aloud. “Tab said that you volunteered to take my place.”
Joe shrugs. “Yeah.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose, forcing a lungful of air to try and calm yourself. You don’t want to yell. Hell, you and Joe were so competitive back in Toccoa, half teasing and half not as you competed against each other in everything, that you’ve been determined not to argue since you finally became friends back Holland. But this – this is testing your resolve.
“Why would you do that?” You ask slowly, emerging from behind your hand to look at him again – still infuriatingly casual.
“(Y/N), the war is almost over.”
“So they say.”
“I’m not risking losing you over there,” Joe says. “We’ve been watching each other’s backs forever now. But we’re too close to making it out of this thing to risk it all now. Besides, what’s the point of having two translators?”
He’s not risking losing you over there? “But what about you, huh? I don’t want to lose you either, Joe.”
“Had to be one of us.”
He’s right. Someone has to be able to communicate with the prisoners that will be taken. But if someone has to go, you would prefer that both of you cross that river. Then one of you wouldn’t be waiting anxiously all night. You could watch each other’s backs, just like you’ve been doing.
Any points you might make to refute his lodge in your throat, sticking there while you fumble. Liebgott is hardheaded at the best of times; you don’t know what to say to make him see this from your perspective.
The conflicting emotions must show on your face, because Joe cocks an eyebrow in question. “Why does this bother you so much, anyway? It’s not like this is the first time only one of us has gone on a patrol.”
No, but it’s the first time that this has happened since you became friends. Since you started caring about him. Since you started worrying about losing him . . .
That’s when the realization hits you. The emotion that underlies all of your internal conflict isn’t anger – it’s fear. Fear of losing someone you’ve grown to care for.
“Joe, I can’t let you go alone. I’ll talk to Speirs myself. I – “
“(Y/N), no!” In a second, Joe jumps up from his chair and places a hand on your shoulder to stop you. His eyes are wide, and he’s got an expression that you’ve never seen before, and that you can’t quite place. “I got you taken off that patrol for a reason.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have,” you retort, a renewed wave of anger sweeping over you. “It wasn’t your choice to make.”
“I did it because I love you, you idiot!” Joe exclaims. Then he blinks, as if stunned by his own words. Perhaps they did not have his permission to be spoken. Or maybe they weren’t planned, or he doesn’t know where they came from.
You certainly don’t. Don’t know where they came from, that is. Joe never seemed interested in anything romantic with you. You, however, have occasionally allowed your mind to wander to a place where your friend is something a little more – a place where he holds your hand and reserves all his warmest smiles just for you. You never would have imagined that his mind had wandered in a similar direction. “You – you what?”
Joe hesitates, then nods, confirming his words to both you and himself. “I love you, (Y/N). That’s why I got you taken off the patrol. So that I don’t have to worry about you.”
“That’s why I want to be on the patrol – with you! So I don’t have to worry.”
“Oh.” Joe blinks again, taking it all in. “I tried to protect you. You tried to protect me. We both fucked up.” He tilts his head, studying you. “Do you really?”
“What?”
“Love me?”
“Yes,” you answer with no hesitation. It’s strange to say it out loud. To realize it, here, in this moment, at maybe the same time that he did. And right before the patrol places you on two different sides of that river, where God knows what will happen.
Gently, Liebgott takes your hand. His lips are warm when he presses them against your knuckles in a sweet kiss. “Then I have a reason to make it back across the river.”
Your heart trips over itself in your chest. How cruel is fate, to let it happen like this. “You better. Joseph Liebgott, I swear to God, you better come back from the patrol.”
But maybe fate isn’t cruel after all. Because you’ve hardly left the room, hardly stepped outside, when Major Winters stops the two of you and informs you that Joe will not be crossing the river – he will be staying firmly on this side to provide covering fire, with you.
The major walks away like nothing happened, leaving the two of you confused, but smiling. You can’t help but laugh as you take it in. “What happened?” You wonder aloud. After all, how are they going to take German prisoners without a translator?
“No clue.” Joe squeezes your hand. “But I ain’t complaining.”
It’s brief, but from across the street, Webster catches your eye. The Harvard man gives you a nod. He’s a writer. A romantic, even.
You return the gesture, wondering if Joe saw it as well. “Yeah. Me neither.”
#joe liebgott#joe liebgott x reader#band of brothers x reader#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers imagine#my writing
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Hi honey, I have to say I love your stuff. You write absolutely great. Could you do a headcannon on BoB and what type of love would you give them? I mean love at first sight, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, etc. I'd be happiest with Winters and Nixon and Speirs, but do what you will. Thank you.
A/n: here you go my love. When I finally re read the request I realized you might have wanted the pov's reversed but it was too late. Hopefully it's not too bad. I will happily switch it to reader pov if you wish.
Warnings:fluff
Masterlist
Richard winters
-friends to lovers. I don't think that this man thought of romance when he first met you. Attractive? Most definitely. However he had bigger things preoccupying his mind. Yet somehow at some point, you wiggled your way to being one of his best friends. Don't tell nix. Something about you practically scrambled his brain. He doesn't know when in the friendship he fell or if he fell in the very beginning. But when he realized just how much he loved you it was like he jumped off a cliff without a parachute. He knew right then and there you were it for him. He probably felt nervous telling you due to the fact that he never gave off the impression that he likes you. But let's just say the feelings were reciprocated.
"Dick, I have been flirting with you this whole time."
"Really??"
Lewis nixon
- love at first sight. This man took one look at you and said yes. He may not immediately start flirting with you out of respect, but he will damn well be tied to your finger. Will always open doors for you, and give you his coat when you're cold. So many acts of services. At one point you two were at a bar and some private made his way to your side to start a flirty conversation where he swears he got to hands'y. He knew that you were single but he was extremely jealous nonetheless. Eventually he had to leave to get some air. You followed shortly to catch up with him. You confronted him asking what has gotten into him as of late. He never wanted it to come out like this but it sort of just spilled out of him. He rambled on about his feelings before you cut him off with a kiss and a huge grin on your face.
"Shut up nix and take me on a date"
Ronald speirs
-Distance attraction, I don't know what to call it, this is the closest I can get. It just feels right. Basically, Speirs isn't quite love at first sight, he's the guy who needs to really get to know you to start building a relationship like that. However this man has a MASSIVE crush on you. But he's too prideful to say anything seeing how simping for someone isn't exactly in Ron's profile. He just admires you from a distance while simultaneously stuffing his emotions deep down. Much better in his book. Yet he still does his very best to be by your side at every moment possible even though he spends a lot of time trying not to think about how perfect you are. It's you who makes the first move. You obviously like him and you know he does too. It's obvious to everyone but no-one sais a single word. And before you can finish telling him if he wants to go out some time he's already agreeing.
"Yes"
"What?"
"You free Friday?"
Carwood lipton
-childhood friends to lovers. He was the boy next door. You two were friends from first grade through college. Sharing secrets, sleepovers, getting into mischief. Car started crushing on you when you two were teenagers. Said crush continued all the way until you two volunteer to join the paratroopers. War was hell but you seemed to make it just a little bit more manageable. His life in the war picked up significantly and he had a freight train worth of responsibility placed on his shoulders. Yet you never left his side. It wasn't until Austria that he confessed his feelings. He almost felt sick when he told you in fear of losing his best friend. It was short sweet at straight to the point. You were silent for what felt like an eternity. Lip almost took off in fear of rejection. He was stopped in his tracks by the sound of your laughter. He turned to hear you laughing with the biggest smile on your face.
"Clifford carwood Lipton, do you know how long I've been waiting for those words"
Joseph Leibgott
-Enemies to lovers. Your relationship started off Rocky. Your personality clashed and having a civilized conversation was seemingly impossible. Every time your paths crossed it was filled with banter, insults and tension. Sometimes it got to the point where someone needed to intervene. When you would walk into the same room that Joe would be in it's like the air seemed to thicken. The cold stares and passive aggressive comments. As the war progressed your comments never faulted but the tension you ask? It could be felt by an entire room. And all that hate seemed to not leave as bad as a taste in your mouth. Joe knew from the start that he hated and loved you. You know the type of enemies to lovers where it's like 'she's mine' and 'who did this to you?' It's giving that. He got so fed up with replacements trying to whisk you away so he simply grabbed you by the waist and kissed you.
"Don't lever leave with one of them alright sweetheart?"
"Wasn't planning on it"
#band of brothers#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers headcanon#band of brothers x reader#richard winters#lewis nixon#ronald speirs#carwood lipton#joe liebgott#richard winters x reader#lewis nixon x reader#carwood lipton x reader#joseph liebgott x reader
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smut ,Joe liebgot and the reader dry humping and slightly pleasing eachother in there foxhole in the cold
Body heat - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader
Anon, I loved this prompt! Thank you! I hope you enjoy it! ;)
Warnings: 18+ content sorta, dry humping, making-out, cursing, she/her pronouns, 1st person pov (female).
A/N: I have the biggest respect for the real life heroes of WWII (and all other wars, past & current), this work & all other works is based on the actor(s) and character(s) portrayed in the Band of Brothers series.
A/N pt 2: This was fun to write and I enjoyed the idea a lot! Hope y'all enjoy it! Please comment, like, reblog :) :)
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Another gust of wind lifts the tarp covering the top of our foxhole, blasting cold, wet air around us effectively stealing what little warmth we'd managed build up around ourselves.
"Goddamn it! When this is over, I never want to see the rain or snow ever again." I grumble, pulling the blanket tighter around myself, but it's damp and can only do so much.
"Quit bitching, you're ruining the mood." Liebgott smirks at the glare I shoot him.
"Fuck you." Any venom I have in my voice is lost as my teeth chatter.
"Would love to, but it's too cold." I see him shiver slightly.
"Glad to know that's the only reason." I roll my eyes.
"Course it is." He shoots me a wink and I feel a little bit of heat crawl up my neck and cheeks. Suddenly I'm thankful it's pitch black right now so he can't see my blush.
"Shut up." I mutter half heartedly, shoving his shoulder before attempting to get comfortable next to him. We are silent for a few minutes as, I assume, we try to get semi warm enough to doze a little until he speaks again.
"You know...sharing body heat is a great way to get warm." His voice is low but the words bounce around us on the wind. Again, I send a thank you to the universe that he can't see how flushed I am. I turn my head to tell him to shut up again and find his eyes already on me. The heat in his eyes has the words dying on my tongue.
"What?" Is all I can manage to get out, which I mentally kick myself for. Real smooth. His hand slips out from under his own blanket and grabs mine, tugging me towards him.
"Come here." He moves me around like I'm his own personal ragdoll, rearranging our blankets so one's over the top of our heads and shoulders and the other is around my back with the ends tucked behind him. The new position has be straddling his lap, our bodies centimeters away and our faces so close we are sharing each others breathes. I can feel his hands rubbing up and down my thighs, squeezing my hips every other time. My own arms are draped around his shoulders.
Joe nudges my nose with his. "Told you this would be warmer." All I can do is nod, making him smirk. "I don't know about you, but my lips are still cold."
At his words my eyes drop down to his lips and watch as his tongue runs over them, then look back to his eyes that haven't lost their heat. I make the split second decision to worry about the consequences and what-ifs at a later date and close the gap between us. He eagerly kisses me back, moving one hand to the back of my neck to hold my head where he wants it, while the other wraps around my waist to keep me flush against him.
Our tongues meet and we enjoy a long exploration of each others mouths; licking and sucking and nipping. After a particularly sharp bite on my bottom lip, I grind down onto his lap and then groan at the feel of his growing erection beneath me. I grind down again and this time Joe groans with me.
"Do it again, baby." He pleads against my lips. When I do he kisses me again to muffle the noises we make. I move one of my hands to grip his upper arm tightly to help my leverage and swivel my hips until I find the angle that gives us both the pleasure we need. Once I find that I set a hard pace that Joe eagerly lifts his hips to match.
Soon the cold around us is forgotten as we focus on keeping the other quiet and chasing the pleasure building inside us. Joe lets go of my neck and I feel both his hands grabbing my ass, using it to press me harder against him. My pace starts to become erratic.
"Fuck, I'm close Joe." Joe gives me a hard nip on my jawline and whispers in my ear.
"I got you, let go baby." My head turns to the side and I bite down hard on his shoulder, trying to hide my moan as much as possible. As I'm coming down from my high, I feel Joe's movements becoming more frantic. I turn my head away from his shoulder, nipping at the bit of flesh exposed on his neck and then his jawline.
Three thrusts later he stills beneath me, breathing heavily as he lets out curses and my name. We melt even more into each other, enjoying the post-orgasm bliss and warmth we created around us. Just as I'm drifting off, I feel Joe drop a kiss on the top of my head and my heart flutters.
But that's something to address at a later time.
#joe liebgott#joe liebgott x reader#band of brothers#band of brothers fanfic#fic request#anon request#hbo war#hbo band of brothers
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omg feel free to ignore but can you do BoB headcanons of having a female medic s/o with big boobs 🙏
Easy co.’s reaction to having a nurse s/o with big boobs
genre: Fluff; suggestive
warnings: Language, suggestion (sorry guys)
description: Easy company’s men reaction to you (their s/o) being their nurse and having big boobs.
a/n: Hey!! Sorry I totally didn’t see the medic part and I accidentally wrote it as nurse i’m so sorry 😭 Anywho, just a reminder that this isn’t any hate towards any itty-bitty-titty community at all! (love you guys for real!) Also, some of these might seem like they’re sexualizing the reader but please don’t take it that way, it’s all supposed to be about love!! Hope you enjoy reading <3
Taglist: @sweetxvanixlla @ronsparky @samwinchesterslostshoe @executethyself35 @linhkhanhcps @1waveshortofashipwreck @grumpy-liebgott @barbeygirl (if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!)
Dick Winters: - He tries to be the most respectful, it’s inappropriate to look at your body that way and he really respects you.
- But he also is fighting himself from blushing when he sees how your figure looks in your nurses uniform
- He finds you beautiful regardless though, no matter what your chest size is (even tho he’s had a very hard time trying not to stare)
Lewis Nixon: - his eyes get really big when he sees you in your nurse uniform, your cleavage out almost perfectly.
- His throat becomes dry, he feels the urge to drink water, lots of it from his recent thirst, but it seems the only thing he’s thirsty for is you.
- After seeing only men for the past months, and you being the first women he sees in the hospital, he almost dies flat out and he would be completely happy to do so
Carwood Lipton: - He doesn’t even notice at first, he only looks when you have to reach across his body in order to find a good vein.
- His face gets so red, one because he’s guilty for looking, another because he’s absolutely in awe of the beautiful things in front of him
- He still tries to not objectify you, but he truly finds you beautiful in general. He can’t help but get goosebumps at the thought of seeing you again
Joe Toye: - Man when he sees you in that nurses dress, after almost a year of seeing only the men around him, he gets so close to losing it
- He literally starts drooling at the mouth whenever he sees you, you’re like a dream come true, an answer to every single one of his prayers.
- When you do get close to him it’s like he can’t breathe, your body only clouds his mind with unholy thoughts and the dying urge to feel your pretty chest. He’s absolutely desperate for you and getting to know you for the rest of his stay at the hospital.
Joe Liebgott: - NOW WE ALL KNOW THIS MAN IS HAVING THE TIME OF HIS LIFE When he sees you, he actually does lose it, a big smile rising onto his face as though the girl of his dreams is now assigned as his nurse
- He’s an absolute slut for you. Like he’s gonna try his absolute best to make you his, whatever he has to do, he’ll do it. He can’t help but flirt with you any chance he can get.
- When it’s getting close to the end of his stay, he’s dreading it. Only wishing to see you everyday. He’ll practically beg to see you again sometime, or if he can write to you. And being good friends you say yes, making him the happiest man alive.
Bill Guarnere: - He’s probably the biggest flirt you’ve had as a patient. The look on his face is the equivalence of a kid in a candy store for the first time. He’s quick to introduce himself to you, bringing out his best charm for you
- “You always walk around looking like that? It’s killin’ me, doll, and you know it” He would whisper in your ear as you take care of him. It’s hard not to give in when he’s so enticing like this, his voice sending you chills when he talks to you so romantically.
- He’d promise he’d write to you once he gets better, making sure that once the war was over, he’d find you again and take you out the right way.
George Luz: -He gets so smiley when he sees you, he doesn’t mean to stare at your chest, in his defense your chest was kinda staring at him first, your uniform was a bit tight in the upper half making you a bit more revealed, but he didn’t mind one bit.
-He was actually rather joyful, whenever he saw you, you brought his hopes up a bunch. It always made him so happy to see you. Just being around a women and getting to be taken care of by you was a dream.
- He loves every second that he has with you, I could definitely see him being quite smitten with you after you taking such good care of him.
Eugene Roe: - He gets super shy around you and finds it pretty hard to make eye contact for the longest. He never thought he’d be the one to end up hurt, especially when he was supposed to be the one to help people get better, but being around you makes things a lot better.
- Sometimes he’d like to imagine that you guys are together while you’re taking care of him and when he’s really sad. just a lovely girlfriend taking care of her sick boyfriend is what he sees in his head (even tho he knows that’s not the case)
- When you ask if he’d like for you to write letters, he almost finds it impossible that a gorgeous girl like you, would want him to be your man. He’s estatic and would say yes immediately.
Bull Randleman: - It’s love at first sight for him. “Wow” is all he can say under his breath when he sees you for the first time. It’s an amazing sight.
- In the most non-offensive way possible, you’re like a wet dream come true to him. A sweet, pretty girl, with the prettiest tits known to man, taking care of him while he’s hurt.
- It’s like a dream for the rest of his time there. He waits and counts down the hours until you take care of him again, he’s just so happy to be in your presence.
Floyd Talbert: - After everything he’s endured the past months, you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. Literally a gift from God. You and your amazing top half mesmerizing him by the way you do practically anything.
- He looks forward to every-time he sees you. And when he does he’s flirting with you nonstop. “You know, when all this is over with, I would love to get to know you better.”
- He’s gotta a staring problem really bad, he tries to stop, but he can’t help it. You’re the first woman he’s laid eyes on in so long and he just can’t get enough of your body.
Skip Muck: - “Christ in heaven, you’re the best thing i’ve seen my entire life” He says when you walk to his bed, urgent for your care. “How are you today beautiful? Do I need to fight any fellas for giving you a problem?” He’s very playful with you, but there’s only truth to his words.
- He thinks you’re so pretty though, he’s like a schoolgirl crushing on her teacher, anticipating for your arrival everyday, and being a pet to you everytime you are around.
- When his stay is ending, he finally confesses his feelings to you, letting you know how much he actually enjoys spending time with you, and how he would love to see you after the war.
Don Malarkey:- He’s like a little boy around you, so cheerful and happy. When he first met you he was struck by your pretty face, and its was no surprise that your chest was perfect too.
- He tries being respectful every time you’re around, but it’s hard not to steal a glance at your pretty chest every now and then. You never fail to send butterflies down his body when you get close to him too.
-He’s extra sweet to you always, calling you ma’am respectfully, asking if he can do anything for you despite his physical condition. He’s just very happy to have a positive energy like you around him.
Babe Heffron: - “My goodness, what have I done to deserve you” He says when he sees you walk over to him, it doesn’t even matter if he’s hurt, he can’t feel it anymore. Only thing he can feel is a burning desire for you.
- You’ll catch him staring towards you a lot, he doesn’t even try to hide his staring eyes. He is truly fascinated with you.
- When his stay gets cut short, he asks you if you’d like for him to write to you, it was the sweetest you’d ever saw him. When you said yes he would grab you in a hug and swing you around with joy.
Shifty Powers: - He’s the most respectful out of all the guys. He’s well aware of how perfect your chest is, but he’s not going out of his way to make you uncomfortable at all. He’s pretty mature about it.
- But he does find you beautiful, to him, your body is obviously amazing, but you are so much more to him then just a nice nurse with pretty tits. You’re amazing girl that he would love to know more of.
- He probably would tell you how he feels later on once his time there was up, it he would be super nice and respectful about it.
Frank Perconte: - He’s like a dog to a bone, absolutely enamored with you and your smokin’ body (as he would like to call it)
- “What a dame” He’d say under his breath, suddenly in the need of water by your nice looks. He’s definitely gotta staring problem (he really can’t help it 😭)
- “When all this is over with, you wanna come home with me, pretty girl?” He would flirt with you until he physically can’t anymore
Ronald Speirs: - He doesn’t want to give you a huge reaction, but if you could read his mind, you’d be surprised about the things he’d been thinking about….
- “Doll, do you know the effect that you leave on half of the guys in this place? I can’t tell you what all they’d do just to touch you”
- In all, he’s mesmerized by your body and the way you move. Even in the most basic moments, he just can’t help but watch you do your job.
Skinny Sisk: - “You’re my nurse, wow. Is it my lucky day or somethin’?” When he sees you, he’s so happy that you’re gonna be the one taking care of him
- He’s a big simp for you, if you need anything, someone to talk to, help (if he’s physically able) then he’s more then willing to do it.
- He’s so smiley and happy around you it’s so sweet!! He tries not to stare at your amazing rack but he thinks you’re the prettiest he’s ever seen.
Chuck Grant: - “Golly, am I in heaven?” He thinks you’re an absolute angel after all of the hell he’s seen. If good looks could kill, he’d be willing to die under your watch.
- He has to remind himself constantly than your eyes are “up there” instead of anything otherwise, but he can’t concentrate on anything when you’re in the room (for obvious reasons ofc)
- He’s well behaved on the most part though, just a sweet bby who loves your chest like it’s nothing LOL
Johnny Martin: - He actually feels so much better when he finds out you are gonna he his nurse. Christmas day came early for him (a pretty girl with nice tits was for sure on his list)
- “What are you doin’ here? Shouldn’t you be performing at some show or something, you’re too pretty to work” He doesn’t understand why you’re having to move a finger tbh, you’re too precious to him 😭
- “I had a nice time with you while I was here, if you ever wanna write to me, you can, doll” He honestly gets kinda sad when he knows he won’t be able to wake up to your pretty face (and tits) everyday.
David Webster: - Tbh you’re the real reason why he’s in the hospital for so damn long 🤣 like the moment he met you he just had to be around you at all times
- He stares a lot, and has a quite bit of dirty daydreams containing your chest and him 😭
- Honestly he didn’t even think he was a boobs guy until he met you, you really changed him for the better
Buck Compton: - He’s this emoji: 🤤, actually drooling at the mouth, you look so good to him.
- He’s never been happier to be in a hospital at the moment, your presence is enough to bring him back to full health tbh
- He’s super thankful in general that he has such a pretty and well rounded (see what I did there ) nurse taking care of him while he’s down
Thank you for your request! If you enjoyed, make sure to reblog or like! 🩷
#band of brothers#band of brothers headcanons#band of brothers reaction#band of brothers preferences#band of brothers imagine#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers recs#dick winters#lewis nixon#carwood lipton#joe toye#joe liebgott#bill guarnere#george luz#floyd talbert#bull randleman#eugene roe#skip muck#don malarkey#babe heffron#shifty powers#frank perconte#skinny sisk#ronald speirs#chuck grant#buck compton#david webster#johnny martin#ithinkabouttzu
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Band of Brothers Masterlist
George Luz:
Jokes on You
Forever Yours
We're Never Coming Back
Flirt and Blush
Lonely Lips
Aldbourne
Ronald Spiers:
Oh Captain, My Captain
Overprotective Captain
The Captain's Knife
Cuddly Mornings
Have Me
Together in Hell
Joe Liebgott:
Arrogant Lover
Legend
Hate Me, Love Me
Germans Brought Us Together
Lewis Nixon:
Poker Game
Beers, Tomatoes and Suspenders
Broken Hearts Lie All Around Me
A Bet Worth More Than 50 Bucks
The Only One
"I'm Out!"
Blame it on the Alcohol
Secret
Engaged - Part One, Part Two, Part Three (completed)
Get Drunk with Me
The Meaning of Vat69
"At Least Look at Me."
Carwood Lipton:
Sweet Lovin'
Soldier's Rescue
I Wish I Could Have Saved You - Part One, Part Two (completed)
How Are Those Nuts, Sarge?
Eugene Roe:
Forever
French Spy
Like I'm Gonna Lose You
Smile at Me
David Webster:
Sick With Love
Donald Malarkey:
Coming Back to You
Thank You For Your Loving
Cross
The Moment that Mattered
Floyd "Tab" Talbert:
Birthday
Edward "Babe" Heffron:
Light in Hell
Darrel "Shifty" Powers:
Golden Eyes and a Smile Made for War
Richard "Dick" Winters:
War Hero
Joe Toye:
Yes, Sir.
Denver "Bull" Randleman:
Market Garden
Warren "Skip" Muck:
Sandwiches
#band of brothers#hbo war#fanfic#band of brothers imagines#band of brothers imagine#lewis nixon imagine#lewis nixon#george luz#lewis nixon x reader#imagine#george luz imagine#ronald speirs#ronald speirs imagine#joe liebgott#joe liebgott imagine#carwood lipton#carwood lipton imagine#eugene roe#eugene roe imagine#david webster#david webster imagine#donald malarkey#donald malarkey imagine#floyd talbert imagine#floyd talbert#edward heffron#babe heffron#babe heffron imagine#edward heffron imagine#darrel shifty powers
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This Dance pt. 2 | Joe Liebgott
Summary: Part two, in which everyone is fighting to hold back exactly what they want to say.
Word count: 3,857
Warnings: SMUT
There was a conversation that needed to happen that Joe Liebgott was not quite bring himself to start. As they stood in the crowded room, the roaring of the speakers around them felt overwhelming. After settling into the quietness of their lives’ new pace, watching the footage from the Pacific seemed a stark and unwelcomed contrast. Liebgott wondered if he would have felt this way if he had not spent the entire fight in Europe wondering what it would be like to start a life with Evelyn Mosey when this was all over. If there was one thought that got him through the blasts, the cold and wet, seemingly endless nights, it was her. And the idea that he would never be without her again.
He tried to steal subtle glances over to her as she watched the footage screen. Her jaw was set. Her full lips pressed into a firm line. Her dark eyes were focused intently, never once bothering to look over at him. He watched a wave of tension ripple in her neck. She tilted her head side to side, rolling her shoulders up to meet her ears. A simple gesture that would have gone unnoticed to anyone but him.
When they shuffled out, he made sure to keep sight of her. The masses that filed out trickled out taking different paths, he made a bee-line for her. Years spent in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to glance, to touch, to speak, he knew how to keep himself at a distance, while still in her warm orbit.
“I don’t want to talk about it now, Lieb,” she told him adamantly, looking down the hallway both ways to ensure that no one else was interested in their exchange.
“I know,” he rolled his eyes. Never had he been with a woman who was so consistently unfeeling when it did not benefit her. “Can I just--”
She watched someone walk past them, behind Liebgott. They exchanged a nod of recognition. Her face fell from its friendly openness to one of frustration when she met his gaze again.
“Just come in,” she opened the door wider and encouraged him to move quickly. “I don’t want to do this out here.”
Liebgott had seen her room since their time began at Zell Am See. The time he spent there was less than he would have liked. If he had imagined a true celebration of the victory in Europe, it would not have been so distant from her.
“I don’t want to talk about this right now.” She was firm in her words, but her hand was gentle as it touched the buttons on his shirt. He nodded and bit the inside of his cheek. He knew there weren’t going to be any words he could say to demand her to comply. He could not claim her strong will was his favorite thing about her and then admonish her for it when it did not benefit him. “Please?”
The way she looked up at him with those large doe eyes made him feel a warmth spread in his chest and abdomen. He touched her face gently and nodded, tracing her jawline with his thumb. He had spent half the fucking war holding back a proposal of marriage, children, a life together. He bit back vows of eternity and forever. He withheld the words “I love you.” Surely one more fucking day made no difference.
She smiled and took him by the hand, slowly backing him towards the bathroom.
There was an electric current that radiated through every vein in his body when she reached to turn the shower on. He was convinced there would never be a time where he was not breathless in anticipation to see her undress. He felt the twitch of need in his groin just thinking of the moment where he would watch the water touch her naked flesh. So when she started to work on the buttons of her shirt, he sat back on the corner of the clawfoot tub with a playful smirk.
Evelyn rolled her eyes as she watched him perch himself on the tub. If there was one thing she was going to miss about Joseph Liebgott, it was going to be his boyish charm. The way his eyes danced over her appraisingly caused her skin to catch light with blue flame, so hot it felt cool and caused her to erupt in goosebumps. She stepped out of her boots skillfully as she worked on the buttons of her shirt. When she pulled it over her shoulders and left it in a pile on the ground, she heard a small whistle from her observer.
Liebgott felt a pang in his stomach while he watched her start to work on her pants. Ignoring all thoughts and feelings (how did she do it?) about what was to come, he focused on the way her deft fingers worked on her buttons, letting them fall to her feet. Though he had ensured that every part of her had been explored by eager hands, lips, and tongue, it was taking everything in him not to get to his knees and help her escort those pants the rest of the way to her ankles.
She stepped out of the last of her clothes with a smile. He bit his lip as he glanced over her body. Evelyn had resigned herself that there would never be another man who made her so hungry to be stared at in this way again. His eyes carried just enough devotion to balance the intense desire that made her feel like the only woman on the planet. He once had told her he would watch her read the phone book just to stare at her lips.
Liebgott licked his lips softly, shifting to adjust the fullness in his pants. No coaxing, no teasing, simply the pure sight of her undressing herself, all for him, caused such a stir in him. It was exactly that gesture that Evelyn watched hungrily, her eyes darkening as she pinned her lower lip between her teeth. That was all the indication Joe needed to close the gap between them.
He braced the back of her head, her dark curls tangling perfectly around his large fingers when he pulled her close. He wanted to taste the spot of her mouth where she had bit down. A needy whimper betrayed Evelyn as it eased up from her throat. It was so very like Joe Liebgott to pull all kinds of unprompted sounds from her eager throat. The way his mouth moved with hers was a dance the two of them had skillfully mastered. Lieb couldn’t help but smirk as he thought about the other kinds of dances she had shared with other men. Nothing could compare to this. Ever.
His hands worked at the buttons of his own shirt. He made a quick and sloppy job of getting it off and tossing it to the floor, his undershirt quick behind it. There was a simple and intense maneuver Evelyn had mastered in getting his belt undone with nimble fingers. It always left him growling against her lips. He gripped her scantily clad behind and squeezed, pulling her hips into his with a force that caused them both to let out a groan.
“Joey,” she breathed, her lips swollen, his pridefully wearing the ghost of her red lipstick. He smirked, feeling himself twitch at the sound of her need. He busied himself with kissing her neck, his thumbs teasing the cups of her bra. She worked to unbutton his pants, chest heaving, eyes heavily lidded.
“Yeah?” He grinned against her skin. She moaned again, biting her swollen lower lip and shuddering as he kissed down over her sternum. “What is it?” he asked teasingly. “Tell me.” The demand was placed just before he nipped at the skin of her right breast. He tugged at his waistband and let his pants fall with a gasp.
“Take me,” she murmured, feeling his desperate length through his boxers with her hand.
“You know how this works, doll.” He smiled, making eye contact with her. He could taste her desperate shudders as he pressed their foreheads together. Their eyes were locked so intensely that she felt him twitch under her hand. “You don’t get any of me until I’ve had my fill of you first.”
She leaned up and kissed him with a groan, reaching around and taking it upon herself to get her bra off. Lieb took the hint and cast his boxers to the floor, slowly stroking himself as she watched her expose every inch of her perfect body to him. The strain his erection had felt boyish, desperate, and fucking incredible. Never in his life did he think he would find himself a puddle of need at the simple sight of a woman.
She knew it, of course. Evelyn teased him with a smirk as she kicked her underwear to the side with a delicate gesture, her toes pointed. She turned and his breath hitched in his throat at the sight of her delicate muscles of her back, the perfect curve of her hips, her ass, her strong thighs. He continued to touch himself, the way she always reminded him to, when he watched her turn on the water. He knew she longed to be needed in the way he needed her. Joe tried not to think about who would prove to her just how incredible she was when he was no longer around. Biting back every question that bubbled over in his throat, he stepped forward, closing the distance between them.
When his chest pressed against her back, Evelyn hummed contently. His length settled against the curve of her rear, his lips near her ear as he leaned down. She watched as his hand traced the length of her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps with the gentlest touch.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he whispered into her ear. He pressed his lips to her shoulder as he slowly moved his hand toward her exposed breasts. When his large hand fully enveloped her, she felt the gentle brush of his palm over her nipple that encouraged a moan. He chuckled in her ear as his other hand trailed the curve of her hip toward her desperate center. “Fuck,” he growled, feeling her wetness with the gentle touch of the pad of his finger. Gently pulling her hair up into his fist, he held it away from her neck as he planted hungry kisses on her skin. Sucking, scraping his teeth, flicking his tongue against the sensitive skin where her neck and shoulder met while he drew slow circles around her most sensitive spot. Gasping, pressing back against him, melting into his ministrations, Evelyn felt like she was unable to promise her legs’ ability to hold her up much longer.
“Please, Joe,” she begged breathlessly. “Please.”
Joe chuckled from deep in his chest. She felt it rumble against her back. He took his hand away, missing the warmth of her on his fingers immediately. She turned to him, her eyes heavily lidded with lust, searching his desperately. He smiled at her, took the finger that had worked on her so deftly, and placed it to his lips, flicking his tongue over the pad, his eyes locked with hers.
“Mmm…” He groaned, stepping towards her, backing her into the shower. “God damn…” he growled, watching as her body was hit by the hot water.
Joe watched her, watching the beads of water create paths down over the curves of her body. With her taste on his desperate tongue, his eyes on her perfect body, his heart beating in his chest, he wasn’t sure he would be able to hold out much longer. Whether it was the vulnerability of the space they occupied, the time left together that felt too short, or the intoxicating effect he had on him, he couldn’t distinguish. All he knew is that he had to have her.
There was a beat that passed between them where they were sizing each other up. Evelyn felt the desperation of the moment hit her with a depth she had not recognized. God, if he would just be a little less delicate and loving in those touches, she could excuse away the lump growing in her throat as she watched the way he looked at her. She had always been enough for him. He had always reminded her of that.
In a quick attempt to avoid him seeing the tears welling up in her eyes, she leaned forward and kissed him. The way their lips crashed into one another had an urgency he had not felt from her before. Her hunger was bone deep. He traced her jaw, tenderly caressing her neck, flicking her hair over her shoulder. His length stood at attention between them, gently nudging the flesh of her belly. He rocked forward to feel the friction as he ghosted a gentle trail down her arms to her warm, capable hands.
When he laced their fingers together, she felt him back her into the wall of the shower. The cool tile was an intense contrast to the warm water that hit her front. He laced their fingers together, pressing it gently against the wall beside her head, pinning it there. She watched a coy smirk cross his lips as he pulled away from her. She giggled, tracing the curve of his lower lip, cleaning up the lipstick he had stolen from her mouth. He leaned down and took that thumb between his teeth, flicked his thumb over the pad, and chuckled. She laughed, a playful swat at his cheek against his cheek, pulled her thumb back and replaced it with her lips.
Joe held her against the wall with the weight of his body. Slowly, he started to trail those kisses down over her body, his hand still tightly clasped in hers. He loved the feeling of her grip on his hand tightening as he placed kisses to the more intimate parts of her body. The spot between her breasts, her left nipple, just above her belly button (God, would he miss that fucking giggle), the curve of her hip, the top of her thigh. He directed her hand to the back of his head and left it there, needing both of his hands to tenderly separate her thighs, pulling one up over his shoulder as he got to his knees.
“Joe…” she breathlessly tangled her hands in his hair and gripped as he pressed his mouth to the place where she needed him most. There was a wave of gasps that followed that caused him to smirk against her, following the work of his tongue with the addition of a skilled finger.
Mindful of shared walls, used to keeping herself quiet by biting pillows and shoulders, Evelyn was left to trap the back of her hand in her teeth as he worked. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her as she touched her, teased her, tongued her with the skill of a much more experienced man. But, she recognized, he was an experienced man. He was a man who knew her so fully that he was able to coax the most unladylike noises from her throat with ease. He knew her inside and out in every way possible. The intimate attention he paid to the details of her body felt like the worship of a deity; the way he enacted that devotion felt sinful.
Overwhelmed by every sensation between her legs, she found herself grasping at the back of his head and shoulders, her hips moving up to meet his attentive mouth and fingers. He moaned against her repeatedly, desperate to draw every curse she knew from her delicate mouth. Grinning with desire, with power, with pleasure, he worked attentively on her body, his only goal to push her to her limits. He stopped the hand that was working at his own length and snaked it up over her body, tracing her edges to take her heaving breast in his hands. They moaned in unison, his sending vibrations to the core of her being. In that moment, she came undone around his fingers, against his tongue, spilling out desperate whimpers and cries of his name. Joe could have spent an eternity in the sound of her sweet need.
Evelyn, on the other hand, was unable to let too long pass without any part of him inside of her. His vacancy was felt immediately when she pulled him to his feet, gently guided by the fistful of his dark hair. She kissed him as if it would be their last, unsure if it would be, and teased a hand over his eager length, guiding him towards her.
Joe, pleased to know she was as needy as he felt, pulled away from her lips and tongue. He gripped her hips and turned her away from him, her ass pulled against his hard length in the most satisfying way. She moaned at the contact, he held his own back. He tucked her hair behind her ear as to not obscure her vision as she turned to look over her shoulder at him. He kissed her temple, her ear, her jaw, neck, and shoulder. His hand encouraged her thighs apart, lifting a leg to the edge of the tub where her foot found purchase.
Swiftly, skillfully, and perfectly, he entered her, pulling a satisfied, guttural moan from deep within them both.
“Fuck,” he gasped against her neck. The way he gripped her hips was bruising as they both accommodate his eager entrance. He felt her skin erupt in goosebumps against his chest. He pressed forward, making sure he reached her depths with all he had. She reached back, stiffening against him, her fingers lacing with his against her hip.
Slowly, consistently, deeply, he started a pace with his hips. The water that fell between them from above made their skin glisten and it pooled where their bodies met. The gentle slap of their skin meeting with gentle force made her giggle. He kissed her cheek, unable to hold back the groans of pleasure that spilled from his lips. She gasped, pushing back against him as she angled herself to take him deeper.
That was all Joe needed to encourage him to pick up his pace. The swiftness in which their bodies collided called new noises from her mouth. He kissed her upper back and shoulders while he steadied himself, pulling her back onto him.
“Oh, god…” she reached toward the wall to find something to grip. The slick tiles gave her no purchase. That was when she reached behind her, wrapping a hand around his neck, gripping the hairs at the base of his scalp. Liebgott groaned loudly, gripping her hips tighter. His other hand trailed up toward her breast, gripping it gently in his hands, memorizing its shape, weight, the hardness of her nipple against his palm.
“You’re fucking incredible, you know that?” He grunted into her ear, only further pulling strings of incoherence from her mouth. She bit her lip hard, feeling an overwhelm of emotion take over her body like a wave. The lump grew double in size in her throat as she met his every thrust, stars behind her eyes. Unable to respond, he continued. “You’re so perfect. Fuck, Evie.” Her name felt like chocolate on his lips. She turned over her shoulder to taste it on them. Her eyes screwed shut as the tears burned behind them, he continued to bring her body to new heights. When he reached down between her legs, she became overwhelmed. The threat of tears was hard to fight off.
“Joe--” she breathed, the sound of his name clipped by the failure to stop a sob from leaving her lips. The phrase he pulled from her next caused her to bite her tongue between her teeth.
“I--” Joe started. She heard the start of her own words start to come from his mouth. The feeling, the desperation of her overwhelming emotions was contagious. He couldn’t tell where his heartbreak, his pleasure, his love, began and where hers ended. The only way to stop himself from telling her just how he felt about her was to sink his teeth in her shoulder, as she had done to him so many times. Familiar with the sensation, Evelyn felt the pressure, the sting, and every unsaid word behind the contact on her shoulder. She turned away, fearful he would stop if he saw the tears cascading down her cheeks, he would stop. She screwed her eyes shut as she felt a heat building inside of her.
Desperate to feel her come undone around him, under him, with him, he teased her more intentionally with his fingers, his hips working in time with his skillful touch. If he couldn’t tell her, he could show her.
“Please,” she begged. He had come to know it as the last phrase, the last push, before he was gifted with her orgasm. “Joe--”
As he felt her start to push back against him, taking every inch of him, all of him, so intentionally. The feel of her as she let go, her body working desperately to pull him over the edge with her, he followed. The two of them tumbled over together, a tangled mess of limbs, pants, sobs, and everything they swore they’d never fucking say.
#band of brothers#hbo war#bob#fan fiction#fanfic#ao3#joe liebgott#lieb#liebgott#joe liebgott smut#joseph liebgott#joseph liebgott smut#smut fic#fan fic update#joe liebgott x reader#joe liebgott x oc
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Should've Been Born Later, Nix - Chapter 1: The Fall
Easy Company x Fem!OCs
Synopsis: What will happen when some of Easy Company's finest soldiers fall through a foxhole and into another time?
Words: 1,314
Find the fic's navigation page here !!
Author's Note: HERE WE GO LADS!! The first chapter of my self-serving BoB time travel fic!! If you want to be added to the taglist please let me know !!
Luz was the last one to arrive on the ground, immediately crashing into Malarkey with a resounding thud… Well, resounding for someone as small as Luz. He was the last to drop onto the pile of Easy Company men - a giant pile of limbs, helmets, and olive drab was groaning in pain, bewildered eyes darting in every direction. One minute they were dropping into a foxhole in Bastogne. The next?
Winters was the first to jump to his feet, helping his men find their footing. Up came Nixon, Liebgott, Roe, Guarnere, and Bull Randleman. Speirs and Toye had gotten themselves up and situated, looking to make sure they had all their gear. Luz was still on the ground, trying to get his bearings, while poor Malarkey was doubled over underneath him. “FUCK, LUZ!” Cried Malarkey, his hands shooting to his ribs as his body folded in pain. “I think you broke something!” Malarkey’s feet rammed themselves into Luz’s back, flinging the soldier off of Malarkey and onto his stomach with an “oof!”
“You say that like I did it on purpose!” Luz cried, wincing from the boots in his back. By the time George finally got his feet beneath him, Roe was already looking at Malarkey’s side, inspecting his injury.
The Cajun grimaced and shook his head. “It might be broke, Malark. We should get you to the aid station,” Roe spoke thoughtfully. "Which way sho-" Before the medic could finish his thought, all the boys realized something. They had no idea where they were.
The boys all looked around and took in their surroundings. “Where the fuck are we?” each soldier thought to himself, attempting to find a single scrap of familiarity in the landscape around them. The higher they looked, the taller the walls on either side of the group grew - not tall enough to be skyscrapers, but tall enough to tell the ten men that they were not in Bastogne anymore. What was once a frigid warzone, one step away from death, now became… warm? Sunny? Well, it seemed sunny at the ends of the alleyway.
“...are we in an alley?” Bull mused to no one in particular. He absentmindedly chewed on his Emotional Support Cigar, using this to contain his anxious thoughts and energy.
"It appears so Bull…" Winters replied. He had intended for the sentence to be more assuring, but the men's leader was just as confused as the rest of them. The captain exchanged a glance with Nixon beside him, the only man he was comfortable sharing his worry with. The two looked at each other, their eyes conveying confusion mixed with anxiety - how could this happen? What exactly happened?
"Captain Nixon, you're an intelligence officer right? Do you know where we are sir?" Guarnere asked as he slung his rifle over his shoulder, still taking in the alley around them. The brick buildings on either side of the men provided shade from the sun shining down on the pavement. The alley appeared to be barren, save for a Hershey bar wrapper beside Luz's feet. Bending down to get a closer look, the radioman saw a piece of text on the wrapper that morphed his confusion into panic - "expires January 2023." Before Nixon could answer Guarnere, Luz's shaky voice spoke up.
"Um, Captain Winters? You might wanna see this sir," Luz said as he handed the wrapper to his CO, his mind going a mile a minute. Dick took the wrapper from George and saw the text, scrunching his face as he read the expiration date.
"Nix, how long does it take chocolate to expire?" Winters asked, looking up at his captain.
"Why the hell do you think I'd know that?" Nixon replied, one eyebrow halfway up his forehead. Only after Lewis posed his question did he see the infamous date on the wrapper. Nixon paused for a second before he spoke up, "well surely it would expire way before 2023…"
Upon hearing the year, every man's eyes became the size of dinner plates. "Excuse me, sir? I think I heard you wrong, sounded like you said 2023," Liebgott questioned, a nervous chuckle following his words. He couldn't have heard Nixon right…right? Winters simply handed the wrapper over to Liebgott, the poor man's stomach dropping down below his feet.
"That's not possible, this isn't possible…" Toye muttered under his breath, trying to shake the idea from his head. While all the men were trying to process what Nixon said, Speirs had already made his way to the end of the alley.
"Captain Winters!" He called out, twisting his body to call out behind where he was standing. Winters nodded to Nixon, a silent request to keep an eye on his men, before making his way down to Speirs. The warm sun at the end of the alley was a welcomed surprise to Dick - it felt like forever since he felt mild, comfortable weather. Bastogne was the literal manifestation of hell frozen over, and the sun kissing Dick's skin was its absolute anathema. "Sir, I don't think this is Bastogne," Speirs' comment shook Winters from his mind, reminding the captain of the problem at hand. The two took in the scene around them. Winters thought he was seeing cars - they had four wheels, and they were driving on the street, but they were far beyond any car anyone in the company has ever seen before. The soldiers seem to have landed in a city of some kind. All the street signs were in English, giving Winters a small amount of relief - wherever they were, they spoke the language. Something different stood out to Speirs, though… the noise. It was not bombs exploding and trees breaking like in Bastogne. It was just as loud, but more…lively? The sounds, whatever they were, seemed to celebrate life rather than take it - honking horns, vehicles driving by, music Speirs had never heard before blaring from their windows - he would never admit to it, but Speirs felt a pang of relief knowing he was not in a war zone.
"I'm inclined to agree with you, Ron," Dick replied before hearing their medic call out.
"Sir! We need to get Malarkey to the ai- uh… I guess a hospital," Eugene called out as he made his way towards Winters and Speirs, supporting Easy's other redhead on his shoulder. Malarkey's face twisted in pain as he held his side with the arm that was not slung over Roe's shoulders. Dick nodded in understanding at his medic and stepped a foot out of the alley, getting a better look at the buildings around him. To his right, Winters spotted the red cross universally associated with medicine displayed prominently on a tall, light-colored building riddled with mirrored windows. Beneath the cross were the words "Emergency Room."
"You think they can help Malarkey?" Speirs asked, hopeful but confused at the words. Seeing Roe holding up Malarkey, the officer quickly made his way to Malarkey's other side, taking his arm over his shoulder to help the soldier.
"It's worth a shot, wait here," Winters replied, heading back to the rest of the men to tell them the plan. "Alright men, there's a place that looks like a hospital a short walk from here. Keep your guard up. Just because it doesn't look like Bastogne, doesn't mean we're in friendly territory," he instructed the six men before him, "Keep Speirs, Malarkey, and Roe in the center, I'll lead the way to the hospital." A chorus of "yes sirs" was heard from Luz, Liebgott, Guarnere, Toye, and Bull, while Nixon nodded in understanding and walked up beside Winters.
"Are you sure about this?" Nixon asked under his breath, ensuring only Winters heard his question.
"Got any better ideas?" Dick replied, cautiously emerging onto the sidewalk. The men left the safe haven of their alley and began the trek to save their friend.
~~~~~
Chapter Two
Thank you so much for reading! Please tell me what you think and be on the lookout for Chapter 2: the Hospital!!
Taglist: @love--persevering , @panzershrike-pretz , @executethyself35 , @stolen94 , @dontirrigateme
#should've been born later nix#band of brothers#band of brothers fanfic#hbo#hbo war#easy company#my writing#time travel#credit to pic owners in chapter collage!!#easy company x oc#richard winters#dick winters#lewis nixon#eugene roe#ronald speirs#joe liebgott#george luz#donald malarkey#bill guarnere#joe toye#bull randleman#emily shut up
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BoB Themes songs/Songs they would jam out to!
Winters:
Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac, the live at warner brothers edition. Absolutely loves Fleetwood Mac, would drag Nix along to see them in concert, he just adores Stevie Nicks. I could see him just singing this so loud in the car, putting his whole soul into it.
Nixon:
Shots by LMFAO and Lil John, it just depicts his life, gets him hyped to do shots, also an excuse to do shots, "The song is telling me to do it!" Will put it on every time they pregame so that he can drink and dance.
Lipton:
Kiss from a Rose by Seal. I can imagine Lipton singing this, he loves this song so much. He is so serious as well when he sings it, he means every word, might have secretly choreographed a whole dance to this, but will not tell a soul about it. Speirs might have spied him doing it and just watched with a little grin on his face.
Speirs:
Master of Puppets by Metallica. You cannot tell me this wasn't playing in his head and he sprinted through Foy. Doesn't head bang just appreciates the music. Constantly playing in his head whenever he does cool shit.
Eugene:
Come away with me by Norah Jones. This song is so sweet just like him. I can imagine him just sitting daydreaming about leaving with Babe, like the song says. It helps him unwind after a stressful day, he just sits and listens and daydreams about being in field where the yellow grass grows knee high. It helps him escape the sadness and he just is able to put himself in a nice headspace.
Babe:
No thoughts empty head just Teach me how to Dougie by Cali Swag District playing. He will have this in his brain constantly, and is just doing the dougie in really tiny movements so that no one notices. When he looks spaced out it's because he is in his brain doing the dougie, let him finish his performance before you talk to him, you can tell when the song is over you will see him take imaginary applause.
Welsh:
Love on Top Beyoncè. HE IS A BEYONCE FAN LET ME TELL YOU! Him and Kitty love her! Kitty was her fan first but Welshie definitely fell harder. He sings this to Kitty as he butchers the high notes. He bops around the room, her music just makes him so happy. Kitty and him have been to multiple of her concerts and having a fucking boogie in the pit.
George:
Scatman by Scatman John. My god don't let George play this, you will be kinda scared. He tries his best to scat but really he is just yelling random syllables at you. He will run around the room scatting furiously, he thinks this song is equally hilarious and the best song in the world, he loves it. You will be crying laughing as he performs this for you. Up in your face scatting, like we can all imagine what he looks like doing this right?
Toye:
Burn it to the ground by Nickleback. Just Toye and this song idk scratches an itch in my brain. I can see him just scrunching up his face jamming out. Also this plays in his head when he wears his brass knuckles. This is his fight song. He loves the grungy guitar and yelling vocals. Will sing the song if drunk enough, but will try and fight you at the same time.
Bill:
Come as you are by Nirvana. Idk also same as Toye it just scratches an itch in my brain, more lowkey but this is his chill song. Will listen to this while having a bourbon. Will sing quietly to the song. This plays in his head when he walks anywhere it's his like I'm a bad bitch song. Blast it in the car windows down with a hot chick in the passenger seat, you see him in his fucking sick ass car, shades on and you just want to be him. Why is he so cool? It's the song! But also Bill is just cool.
Liebgott:
Yeah! by Usher ft. Lil John and Ludacris. This is his song that he just pulls bitches with and by bitches I mean Web ahahaha. Just fucking slays the dance he does to this, like is he from step-up? Moose from step up vibes very that! Like ok stop it why are you so hot? He just is so smug and kills it every time. Ugh I can imagine it and he is so hot. Like he is just got chicks grinding all over him and he is the star of the show still. His smirk and dancing. OMG HOT!
Web:
Prada by cassö, RAYE, D-Block Europe. A classic white girly song, loves the part where is says I got strippers tits in my face. Bounces up and down super drunk. Does a motorboat motion at his favourite lyrics, has people he is dancing with has his arms around them just jumping up and down.
Donald:
Low by Flo Rida, T-Pain. This is his jam! Goes absolutely mental when it is played, will stop and dace no matter where he is! Played one time when he was in the supermarket with Skip and Alex. They left him in the aisle having a dance party by himself. They went and got him when the song stopped playing he was a sweaty mess and all of his items he had collected were scattered over the floor. Will pull out his one party trick which is his back bend.
Skip:
Rock this Party by Bob Sinclar. Nothing gets him more hyped that this song. Will move his whole body to this song, if you watch him you're worried he's going to dislocated something. You've never seen someone jump as high as he does to this dance. This song will cheer him up whatever mood he is in. He just can't fight the infectious beat. Don and Alex played it one time for him when he was crying, it ended up with him still crying but dancing like a maniac.
Alex:
Axel F by Crazy Frog. I just see him like crab shuffle dacing around the room, like the you can't touch this dance move. He will run and run to this song if it plays when he's on his morning jog. This song is what got him up Currahee. He sung it in his head the entirety of Tocca to help him get through PT. Bahahaha. Somehow good at the weird vocal lyrics it has.
Buck:
Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes. Buck loves this song, the steady drum the classic bass riff. This is his marching song. He walks everywhere to this song. But he is so fast when he does it cause he keeping pace with the drums, so don't go on walks with him if he brings his headphones you will be left behind. This is his hype song. Plays air instruments the song, will do the air guitar solo and kill it.
Martin:
Don't stand so close to me by The police. Listen he likes the song sure but the title is him to a T. Don't stand close to me is his motto in life. He likes his personal space and he will play this song if he thinks you're getting in his bubble. He will just stare at you while it plays, until you get the message.
Perco:
Boom Boom Pow by Black Eyed Peas. We know that Perco is a fast runner it's cause this is playing in his head as he runs. Does his amazing B-boy skills to this song. Popping and flips. You just watch him absolutely devour this song. He is a freestyler but omg he just fucking kills it.
Bull:
Fake ID by Big and Rich. Has the whole line dance to memory from the movie footloose, which is one of his fav movies. He is so good at line dancing and he just loves the moves to this song. Is in his happy place doing the dance, just grinning!
This is the playlist if anyone wants it.
Tag list: @sweetxvanixlla, @xxluckystrike, @panzershrike-pretz, since we talked about it!
#band of brothers#band of brothers fanfic#donald malarkey#joe toye#bill guarnere#dick winters#george luz#eugene roe#babe hefferon#welsh#bull randleman#johnny martin#skip muck#alex penkala#joe liebgott#david webster
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Love vs. Hate - Part 23 // Joe Liebgott x OC
Summary: The days go on in the freezing hell, but there seems no end to it. Though Liv is finally reunited with Joe, the loss of their friends and fellow soldiers is taking a big toll on them.
Warnings: Language, War wounds, death
A/N: Okay, okay, okay, okay. I'm BACK! I'm literally not happy with that chapter and I'm soooooo sorry, it took me so long. I had a massive writers block and now this is what came out of it. I'm sorry, I'll try to do better with the next.
Here is my Masterlist
Taglist: @brassknucklespeirs, @liebgotts-lovergirl, @lieutenant-speirs, @mads-weasley, @emmylindersson
January 2nd, 1945 - Bastogne, Belgium
This morning, I finally gather the courage to approach Babe. Over the last few days, he's been avoiding me, and the tension between us is palpable.
I spot him standing with the others, waiting for food, and I steel myself for the conversation. As I walk up to him, he glances up but quickly averts his eyes, and I can feel the uncomfortable atmosphere surrounding us. Taking a deep breath, I call out his name, "Babe."
He responds with a slightly sarcastic tone, "What is it, Sarge?"
"I need to talk to you. Now," I assert, gesturing with my head for him to follow me away from the others.
Reluctantly, he joins me, crossing his arms defensively. "What is it?" he asks, clearly on guard.
I sigh, looking down for a moment before meeting his gaze. "Listen, umm... I'm really sorry about Julian," I say, and Babe finally looks at me, but he remains silent. "You know that I didn't have any other choice."
Babe snorts, shaking his head. "You know the funny thing about that sentence is, that it's bullshit. You always have a choice."
His words weigh heavily on me. "Maybe that's true. And yesterday, I made that choice. I chose not to let you die, too. Do you even get that? If I had let you go for him, you would be as dead as he is right now!"
"So now you want me to thank you for saving my life? Is that it?" Babe retorts with bitterness.
"No, for fuck's sake! Of course not!" I reply, my frustration evident. "I just want you to understand what I did. I don't need you to like my decisions because, hell, I couldn't care less about that. I just want you to understand them because you are in my platoon, and I want to look out for my men."
There's a moment of silence as Babe absorbs my words. He rubs his nose, sniffs, and looks at me again, his eyes glazed with emotion, and his lip trembles.
"He was my friend, you know?" he finally speaks, his voice shaky.
"I know," I respond gently, nodding slowly in acknowledgment.
"I know what you settled with him," I continue, my voice softening. "I'm glad you can keep your word."
Confusion flickers across Babe's face. "What do you mean, Liv?"
"We were able to get him. Julian," I say, reaching into my pocket and pulling out his Class ring, wallet, watch, and dog tags.
Babe is taken aback, almost unable to comprehend my words. "You-? What?" he stammers, as I hand him his fallen comrade's possessions.
"We sent out another patrol this morning. The Krauts retreated, and we found Julian. I don't think they even noticed him yet," I explain, my voice tinged with sadness.
"If you want... If you want, you can look at him," I offer softly, placing a comforting hand on Babe's arm, though he quickly shakes his head.
"I- I can't," he whispers, his emotions overwhelming him. Then, he looks at me with teary eyes, hesitating before asking, "Did you- did you lead...?"
I press my lips together, knowing what he's trying to ask. With a heavy heart, I nod, and Babe breaks down, pulling me into a tight embrace.
"Thank you!" he whispers, and I gently stroke his back, offering comfort in the face of loss.
"It's okay," I reassure him, understanding the depth of his emotions.
As Babe returns to the others, my attention is caught by Joe, standing before me. Adrenaline courses through my veins, and I nervously bite my lips as he eyes me. Trying to hide the scar under my left eye, I lower my head to the left.
"Liv," Joe whispers, stepping closer to me. My lips begin to tremble as he places a hand under my chin, gently lifting my head. "Hey," he says softly, looking me in the eye. "Why are you trying to hide from me?"
I've imagined this moment countless times, but now I feel ashamed of my scars and vulnerability.
"It looks terrible," I admit, barely audible, and the redness under my eye only worsens my insecurity.
"Liv," Joe says firmly, his expression filled with tenderness. Then, he envelops me in his arms. "I don't care about any of that. The main thing is that you're standing here in front of me, alive!"
Tears well up in my eyes as I press myself against his chest, feeling the warmth and security he provides.
God damn, how can one person always evoke such a profound reaction in me?
As we hold each other in the freezing forest, surrounded by the sounds of war and the remnants of tragedy, the intensity of our emotions overwhelms us both. Joe's arms tighten around me, and I find comfort in his embrace. The world around us fades, and it's just the two of us, connected in this moment of vulnerability.
"I missed you, Liv," Joe whispers into my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. "I couldn't stop thinking about you when I was away."
"I missed you too, Joe," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. "I was so relieved when I heard they pulled you away. But now you're here again. What if we won't make it through this fucking hell?"
"We're both still here, though," Joe says softly, lifting my chin with his fingers so I meet his gaze. "And I'm not going anywhere, not without you."
The weight of the war, the losses, and the constant danger seem to fade away when we're in each other's arms. In this desolate place, I find solace in the bond we've forged, knowing that I'm not alone in the midst of the chaos.
As I pull away, I feel a sense of tranquility, knowing that we have each other to lean on in this tumultuous time.
"I don't know what the future holds, Joe," I say, a hint of sadness in your voice. "But right now, being here with you, that's all that matters."
Joe nods his expression a mixture of determination and love. "We'll get through this together, Liv. I promise."
As we stand together, hand in hand, you both know that the road ahead won't be easy. The war continues to rage on, and the future remains uncertain. But at this moment, we find strength in each other and the knowledge that we have something worth fighting for.
"We should head back," Joe says, breaking the silence. "They'll start wondering where we went."
I nod, reluctantly pulling away from his embrace. As we walk back toward the others, I know that our relationship is no longer a secret. And while the dangers of fraternization persist, I find comfort in the fact that I have a love that keeps me grounded amidst the chaos.
January 3rd, 1945, Bastogne, Belgium
After holding the line at Bastogne we were once again called on to help push the Germans back through the Bulge. I stand next to Buck, overlooking a map with Lip and Buck. Bill stands next to us and Muck and Penkala also. We have the map on Don's back.
"We were here this morning and then we came this way", Buck explains. "Right, so, right here's gotta be the logging road coming into here, which means we get right there", he says showing it with his finger and then hitting Don on the head.
"Hey!", Don says. "Take it easy." I chuckle and nudge him.
"Stop crying, Malark or I'll nail it to your head", Buck then says and I chuckle.
"Good, it's made of wood", Bill says and Buck is looking at me, before he nods. I nod back at him.
"Guarnere, move them out, let's go", Buck then says.
"Yes, sir. 2nd Platoon, let's go!"
I'm glad to be out of my foxhole and moving again. Even if only to get warm. We are being sent to clear the Bois Jacques the woods near the town of Foy in preparation for what we knew would be the eventual assault on Foy itself.
During that 1,000 yard attack through the woods we encountered German machine gun fire and had a couple of casualties. But, for the most part, met little resistance. Hoob's run-in with the German officer on was the most dramatic moment of the day.
Amidst the freezing darkness of the night, we huddle together in a small foxhole, seeking whatever comfort and warmth we can find. The sounds of distant gunfire and explosions serve as a constant reminder of the perilous reality we face. Exhausted and weary from the relentless battles, we are startled by the sudden sound of a gunshot, piercing through the quiet night.
"What the fuck was that?" I exclaim, my heart racing as I instinctively reach for my rifle. Beside me, Don looks equally alarmed, his eyes wide with concern.
As the echoes of the shot fade, the urgent voices of our fellow soldiers guide us toward the source. "Jesus, it's Hoobs, he's shot!" someone calls out, and without hesitation, we rush to Hoob's side.
"What? Sniper?" I inquire, fearing the worst.
"No, he shot himself," comes the disheartening response.
As Lip joins us, his face reflects the gravity of the situation. "What happened?" he asks, seeking to understand the circumstances.
"It just went off," Hoobs explains, his voice filled with pain and regret. Kneeling down beside him, I take his hand, trying to offer some comfort amidst the chaos.
"Why is there a loaded gun in your pants?" I inquire, struggling to comprehend what led to this tragic event.
"Liv, I wasn't touching it or nothing. Goddamn it," Hoob desperately responds, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I wasn't touching it, I swear."
Sighing with a mix of frustration and concern, I call out for the medic, knowing that Hoobs needs immediate attention.
"Medic!"
Doc quickly arrives at the scene, his experienced hands taking charge. "Hold on. Wrap him up. Hang in there. Come on," Doc reassures Hoob, doing his best to stabilize the wounded soldier.
"Lip. You said I was a great shot, right?" Hoob asks, his voice tinged with vulnerability.
"You're a great shot. Come on, you jump out of planes. You're tough," Lipton responds, trying to encourage him.
As we gather around, trying to keep Hoob warm, we continue to talk to him, hoping to distract him from the pain and fear.
"He's still shivering," I note, my heart breaking for our wounded comrade.
"It's not that bad at all, come on," Perconte tries to reassure Hoob, but the situation remains dire.
"Stay with us. Hoob, take it easy," Doc urges, his dedication unwavering despite the grim circumstances.
"What are we gonna do?" Don asks, his voice heavy with helplessness.
"How are we doing?" Lip inquires, seeking an update from Doc.
"You're gonna be fine," I assure Hoob, holding his hand tightly.
"We've gotta get him to an aid station. Hold on tight. All right, let's get ready to move him. Take it easy. Stay there, Hoob," Doc commands, already preparing for the difficult task ahead.
As we work together to get Hoob ready for transport, I call out to Doc, my voice filled with concern and desperation. "Doc!"
But before Doc can respond, I realize the truth, and my heart sinks.
"Can't see anything", Doc says still occupied with Hoobs leg.
"Doc!" I point to Hoob, who is already gone, and the weight of the moment settles heavily on us all.
"Jesus," Doc murmurs, shaken by the loss.
"Lipton, we need a jeep," Perconte says, his voice heavy with grief.
As we reflect on the tragedy that has unfolded before us, we come to the sad realization that Hoob's life has been cut short by an unfortunate accident. Despite our frantic efforts, his injuries proved too severe, leaving us with a void that cannot be filled.
As we return to our foxholes, the weight of his loss hangs heavy on our hearts, and the darkness of the night is now intensified by the shadow of a fallen comrade. We mourn the loss of a fellow soldier, knowing that his memory will forever be etched in our hearts as we continue to face the relentless turmoil of war.
The following day, we're pulled back a little to grab a much-needed meal after that horrific night. Word spread out fast, that we lost our friend Donals Hoobler that night.
Seated on the ground next to Joe, I massage my temples, trying to soothe the incredible headaches that have haunted me since I was hit. I close my eyes, attempting to find some relief from the pain. The pills Doc Roe gave me are helpful, but there's just not enough to fully ease the agony.
In the midst of my discomfort, I hear Muck's voice raise, and I open my eyes to see him approaching. "Fellas, look who I found. Joe Toye, back for more," he announces, with Joe Toye standing next to him. Joe looks a bit worse for wear, but knowing him, he's determined to soldier on.
Joe nudges me, and when I look at him, he winks quickly, as if to reassure me. However, my attention is soon drawn back to Muck, who's joined by Don, Penkala, and a replacement named Webb. They're sharing stories of how people got hit, trying to lighten the mood.
"Don't worry, there's enough crap flying around here. You're bound to get dinged sometime. Almost every single one of these guys has been hit at least once. Except for Alley, he's a two-timer. He landed on broken glass in Normandy... and got peppered by a potato masher in Holland," Muck says as he walks through the ranks.
I follow his gaze and chuckle, appreciating how he's trying to downplay the danger we face. The camaraderie and banter among the soldiers provide a semblance of comfort in this harsh reality.
"Now, Bull, he got a piece of an exploding tank in Holland," Muck points out, and Bull doesn't seem too thrilled about the reminder. "And George Luz here has never been hit. You're one lucky bastard."
"Takes one to know one, Skip," George playfully retorts, drawing laughter from me as I rub my eyes, still struggling with the headache.
"Consider us blessed," Muck shrugs, before making his way over to us. "Now, our dear Sergeant Stark over there, that blonde beauty you see, got a nice graze in Nuenen - 26 stitches, right Liv?" he remarks, and I lift my head, feeling slightly annoyed.
"29, actually," I correct him.
"Oh, whatever. And as you can see, she got a little Christmas gift from the Germans on her face as well. An improvement, if you ask me."
"Bite me, Skip," I respond, playfully giving him the finger, which only elicits a chuckle from him.
"Eh, come on, Sweetheart. But don't try something with her, or you don't need to worry about ding flying around. Liebgott, the skinny little guy next to her... will take care of you then, if you know what I mean," Muck teases, drawing Joe's attention as well.
"Ah, shut up, Skip!" I interject, feeling the teasing becoming a bit too much. I stand up and walk over to Don, who's smirking.
I offer him the rest of my bread and nudge him affectionately. "Just telling the truth here, Liv," Muck defends himself. "Well, he got pinged in the neck in Holland. Right next to him, that other skinny little guy, that's Popeye. He got shot in his scrawny little butt in Normandy."
"And Buck got shot in his rather large butt in Holland," Don chimes in with a smirk.
As they continue their banter, I step away, seeking a moment of solitude to collect myself. The headache persists, and I take a sip from my water bottle, wondering how I'll endure this hellish war when it feels like my head could explode at any minute.
#Band of Brothers#Joe Liebgott x OC#Joe Liebgott#Don Malarkey#Babe Heffron#Band of Brothers fanfic#Bobedit#hbo war#hbo series#bob#Joe Liebgott fanfic#Part 23#Love vs. Hate
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My kids and grandkids will never know how Joe and David made significant changes in my viewpoint of love. They will never know how Joe resented David because he sneaked in Old Spice in the European war theater, how it frustrated Joe that while his snarky, mean behavior is always about David and his viciously gorgeous blue eyes, he actually does want to listen to him talk about school and how he was a student at fucking Harvard before joining the paratroopers. They won't see me stare into nothing, thinking about how Joe would dream about David in the cold, winter hell in Bastogne. They will never know the terrified pants during Toccoa, the thrill of being caught during Aldbourne, the stare at the airstrip, the waves of pleasure and relief back in England after d-day, the burning jealousy when Joe looked at how Tab spinned David in Eindhoven and carding his fingers through his inky black hair, and when Joe just silently patched up David the night of the patrol. Oh no, they'll be clueless when Easy thought David died when a German squad intercepted an army jeep, taking him prisoner until David was rescued in Haguenau and Joe never leaving his side when he realized it was David that he's been carrying to safety. They won't hear about my sobs when Joe is gonna keep calling David 'Web' because David's name stirs his guts and his pulses scream with repressed affection, because come on, it's fucking DAVID. The kids will never know that Joe worked, dragged his forlorn mental health, and built his war-torn life from pieces just to propose to David with a table because he can't give David a room to write yet. And then, they'll never know why David didn't invite Joe on his wedding, and why Joe didn't notify David of a promise before he went to war, and how they both didn't realize what they lost.
#im just gonna lock myself and cry in a corner because to be honest a ship never stuck with me this long than webgott#seriously the fics ive read are ridiculously priceless#should put them in a glass box and show it in a museum or smthn#reflected on the fics ive read these months and last year and all i can say is it is mostly about the obscure amount of webgott and winnix#band of brothers#joe liebgott#david webster#webgott#dick winters#lewis nixon#hbo war#band of brothers fanfic#winnix#the ones above didn't even took half of the ones ive read#and this is only from ao3
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Hey, I'm not sure if you take requests, but if you do, I have an idea:) Could you write something about a young woman who was in the Air Force disguised as a man and her plane was hit by the Germans while under attack, forcing her to jump out, leaving her stranded with her plane down and easy company witnessed the whole thing and tries to look for the pilot?
maybe with some romance or whatever with my mans lieb or doc roe if that’s possible hihi
when worlds collide (joseph liebgott x air force! reader)
word count: 1000+
warnings: blood & injury, but nothing really graphic
notes: sorry for the wait on this one 😭 i've been busy BUT i promise to be posting more during my break
You didn't remember much after your plane was hit by German flak while passing over some Dutch forest you couldn't recall the name of. What you could remember was everything rapidly blinking and on fire around you, dials going this way and that, your hands flying around the control board and trying desperately to pull up with the yoke as you cursed violently beneath your breath.
Following your fruitless struggle against gravity, you remembered preparing to parachute out of your plane and into the woods beneath you.
You were pretty sure you blacked out for a while after that.
-
The sight of a fighter plane nosediving into the ground and its booming resulting crash interrupted an otherwise uneventful five-man patrol through the woods.
“Jesus Christ! Did you see that?” Babe exclaimed, gawking up at where the plane had been in the sky mere seconds ago.
“Looks like it landed near us,” Pat observed.
Don looked wide-eyed. “It was one of ours. The pilot might need our help if he ejected in time!”
Lip shushed them. “There's AA guns nearby. Someone ought to go back and tell Battalion they’re positioned somewhere to our left near that dike we passed. Christenson, you go.”
As Pat nodded and left the way they came, Lip said, “We can't take too long looking for a pilot we don't know is alive or not." He checked his watch and sighed. "Alright, meet back here at 1700. Stay alert. Don't go too far on your own.”
The squad spread out in search of the hopefully-alive pilot. Joe walked with his rifle at the ready for about 20 minutes before stumbling upon large chunks of debris from the plane. Not far from that was a severed parachute, and then a blood trail.
He followed it until he noticed a pilot sitting on the ground next to some brush with his back turned to him, his clothes torn up enough to where large parts of skin littered with cuts were visible. Joe slowly approached, mindful not to scare him and wind up with a bullet in his head.
“Hey,” he called out. “Hey, buddy.”
The pilot turned around, and Joe noticed that “he” was not a he at all.
Your hand shot to the pistol on your belt, leveling it at him while vainly covering up your top half. You’d been trying to treat your wounds with the first-aid kit strapped to your waist; you'd gotten several steadily bleeding scratches from falling through trees and one or two broken ribs from your hasty landing. You ended up taking off your corset to relieve pressure on your ribcage, leaving you with your ripped up uniform and coveralls.
Regardless of your relief that an American soldier had found you rather than a German one, you kept your hand fixed on your sidearm.
“Woah, lady, put down the gun. I'm not a Kraut.” Lowering his own gun, his narrowed eyes flashed to your chest and widened at the sight of the reddish purple bruises that blemished it. "Goddamn..."
“It’s not what it looks like,” you managed out, though talking (or breathing, for that matter) was difficult.
“I don’t care what it looks like,” he said, the edge to his tone softening as he carefully walked toward you. “You need help.”
You painfully exhaled and set the gun down next to you. You turned around again to focus on treating your injuries, wincing with the movement. “I'm fine.”
“You don't look it.” He crouched down next to you. You flinched away slightly — you'd been disguised as a man for a while now, and this was the first time anyone was seeing you so vulnerable since your enlistment — before letting him inspect your wounds, albeit with you concealing your chest with your arms and what remained of your jacket.
“What’s your name?” he asked, gingerly applying sulfa powder to the gashes on your body.
You slightly hissed at the stinging sensation. “(Y/N), Senior Airman, 4th Fighter Group.”
“Joseph D. Liebgott, Technician 5th Grade, 101st Airborne.”
There was a temporary silence, punctuated only by you sucking in air through your teeth. As he bandaged one of the cuts, he said, “We need to get you some help. I was out here on patrol with my squad; we have a medic back at—”
“What?” You looked at him with a bewildered expression. “No, I don't need any medic. I just need help informing my superiors I got lost going through dense fog and got shot down here.”
“Why not? ‘Cause he'll see you're a girl?”
You gave him a pointed look. “Why else? If you haven't noticed, there aren't very many women serving on the front lines.” You paused and took a deep breath in through your nose. “If you bring your squad over here, someone's gonna report me and get me kicked out of the Air Force…Hell, I don't even know if I trust you to not report me. I just met you, for Chrissakes.”
In truth, you didn’t even know why you were letting him tend to you anyways — you were capable of doing it yourself, your biggest secret was currently exposed, and he was a stranger. But there was something about his change in demeanor and a sudden tenderness in his voice once he saw your injuries that made you want to trust him.
“Your secret’s safe, (Y/N),” he said firmly, a set expression on his face. “I got no reason to rat you out; I just met you too.”
You scanned his face for any signs of deceit, sighed when you found none, and nodded. “I’m still not letting your medic take a look at me.”
“Fine, but that’s not gonna stop me from helping you. I’ll be quick; the guys are gonna be expecting me back soon. We’ll go talk to them together.”
He resumed his aid, and after a few minutes, you could tell that he had started getting curious; he didn't seem like a man who knew how to shut up.
“How’d you disguise yourself as a man this long?”
With a shaky inhale, you closed your eyes as his hands brushed over your rib cage. Involuntarily, a small smile made its way onto your face as the countless predicaments you’d found yourself in flooded your memory. “It’s a long story.”
Liebgott cracked a crooked smile. “I can make some time.”
Laughing despite the pain that flared in your rib cage from the action, you couldn't help but feel that this chanced occasion wouldn't be the last time you would speak to Liebgott. And for some reason foreign to you at that moment, you hoped that your intuition was correct.
-
taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop, @joetoyesbrassknuckles101
#band of brothers#band of brothers x reader#joe liebgott x reader#joe liebgott#hbo war#easy company#101st airborne#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers imagine#hbo war fanfic#band of brothers imagines#joseph d liebgott#joseph liebgott x reader#joseph liebgott
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2 am
Joe Liebgott x reader
A/N: (this is written for the fictional depictions from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!)
This fic idea has been banging around in my head for a solid year now, but for some reason I'm only just now writing it. Oops. The title comes from "2am" by Foals. Thanks for reading, and I hope that you enjoy!
Warnings: alcohol, mentions of the Holocaust, language (one f-bomb and that's it)
For the middle of summer, the night air is cool against your warm cheeks when you stumble out of the hotel lobby, arms slung around the necks of your friends as the three of you lean into each other for support and guidance as you make your way to the curb. The three of you are still laughing at some joke that Luz made back inside when the cab pulls up.
“Here you go.” Careful not to lose his grip on you, Luz opens the back door of the cab and guides you towards the back seat.
You really should be getting back to your hotel, but you don’t want this night to end. And who would, after all the fun you’ve been having with your old friends? It’s nice to see them again, to catch up with them, like you’re finally getting to know them without the constant threat of German artillery fire looming over your heads.
“I’ll take the next one,” you protest.
This makes Babe laugh. “Nope. Drunkest person needs to get home first. We gotta make sure you get in the cab before you pass out.”
You fix your old friend with the best intimidating look that you can manage in your current condition. “You drank way more than me, Heffron.”
Babe chuckles. “But I can actually hold my liquor.”
Well, touché. You can’t argue with that one.
“Can you make it home okay?” Luz asks.
“I’ll be fine,” you promise. After all, you’re not nearly as drunk as they seem to think that you are . . . At least, you don’t think you are.
As if he can see your thought process, Luz laughs. “I’ll swing by tomorrow morning to make sure that you’re still alive.”
Your friends close the door of the cab then. Babe taps the glass of the window twice to signal to the driver that you’re ready to go. On cue, the car pulls forward, slowly pulling out of the hotel’s drive. Only when it nears the exit of the parking lot does your driver finally ask his question.
“Where to?” A voice with a familiar raspy quality wants to know.
The sound is enough to make you freeze, your breath stuck in your throat. Maybe you are drunk. Yes, that must be it – the alcohol making you hear what you want to hear, using some wild manifestation of your subconscious desires. Because you haven’t heard that voice in years. You haven’t seen its owner in just as many. And you certainly didn’t expect to run into him here, of all places.
Your eyes jump to the rear-view mirror. A lump the size of a golf ball appears in your throat. Because even in the faded light of the late summer night, there can be no mistake as to who is staring back at you, waiting expectantly for your answer. Even after all these years, even though you can only see his eyes, you would recognize him anywhere.
“Joe?” Somehow, the words manage to push past the lump in your throat, echoing through the car in the silence that has fallen.
Click-click, click-click. The turn signal methodically keeps time, a metronome as your fellow paratrooper waits for a reply. Though you still haven’t said anything, he takes a right out of the parking lot and eases onto the road.
“Guy behind us was looking impatient,” he says by way of explanation.
It’s Joe Liebgott, you can tell. From the voice, the eyes, the way he tensed when you said his name. Would he have reacted that way if anyone else had said it? Or is it only because of you and the things that happened between the two of you so long ago?
The car is moving and you probably shouldn’t, but you can’t stop yourself from leaning forward, trying to get a better look at him. He’s so close – closer than you ever thought he would be – but he seems unreal and worlds away, like a dream that you can almost, but not quite, reach.
“Is it really you?” You whisper.
Joe sighs, a familiar sound. “Yeah, (Y/N). It’s me.”
“San Fransisco,” you remember aloud, some far away memory of some offhand comment that he once made to someone filtering into your memory. “You always said that you would come back here.”
He only nods. Your heart thuds in your chest. There’s so much to say, to ask, yet it feels like you’re running out of time for it all.
“And now you’re here,” Joe finally says. “With . . . them.”
It takes your brain a second to work out that he means Luz and Babe. Two of the many members of Easy Company who came to the reunion this year. Unlike some people.
“You didn’t come to the reunion.”
“No.” He makes a noise that might be a laugh. “Kind of defeats the purpose when you’re trying to leave the war behind you.”
Leave the war behind you. A slap in the face would have hurt less. Is that why he stopped calling you? Stopped answering your letters? You met during the war, during boot camp, and made it through the whole thing together – from Georgia to the Eagle’s Nest. You had been under the impression that you could make it back to the States . . . Well, at least now you know that Joe had different ideas.
“Then why are you here?” You ask. It’s a fair enough question; Easy Company reunions always generate a lot of attention. Joe happening to be outside of the hotel that was hosting this year’s reunion can’t be a coincidence, can it?
His silence is all the answer that you need.
“You showed up, but you didn’t come inside. Why?” Before he can answer, you add, “And don’t say the thing about leaving it all behind you again. I got that part, okay?”
You can hear Joe’s mouth shut with a click. You hadn’t meant to snap the last part at him. But seeing him here . . . All the anger, the sadness, anything you ever felt about or towards Joe Liebgott that you’ve spent years repressing is now rising to the surface.
“I think you know why,” Joe mutters.
No! You want to snap. No, I don’t understand how you could have left me hanging like that, after all that we went through together, all that we meant to each other.
“I – “ He clears his throat, shakes his head. “I was only hoping to see you. Just . . . I don’t know. I thought that would be enough, if I saw you. I never expected you to get into my cab.”
“And now I’m here.”
“Now you’re here.”
Thankfully the darkness of the night hides your faces from each other. In the solitude it provides, you can feel warmth bubbling and spilling over your eyelids, leaving glossy trails down your cheeks that shimmer gold in the passing streetlights. When it was clear that Joe was done with you, you had decided to leave him and your affections towards him behind. Clearly a part of you never quite let go. That much is clear to you now, as tears escape you without your permission.
Still driving, Joe glances up at the rear-view mirror, catching your eye. Your teary eyes. You can hear the frown in his voice.
“(Y/N)?”
“You left me behind,” you whisper.
For a moment, more silence. Then, “I know. And you know what? It was the stupidest decision that I ever made.”
Yes, it was. For a while, having loved him, having trusted him, felt like the stupidest decision that you ever made. It seems so terribly silly and childish to be sitting behind the man you once loved wholeheartedly – the man who broke your heart – and to wish for nothing more than for the two of you to go back to the way that you once were.
Second times the charm? Or should you follow a policy of “fool me once”?
“I want to go home,” you say. “Can you take me home? Please?”
Joe nods. “Where to?”
You give him the name of the hotel that you’re staying in. The cab fills with the rhythmic click-click, click-click of the blinker as Joe changes lanes, easing the car onto the exit and then navigating onto the quickest route like a master. There are several times when you hear him draw a breath as if to speak, but he never says anything. You keep quiet, allowing him the silence to concentrate on his driving.
Say something! Part of your brain – or is it your heart? – demands. You never expected to see him again, and now the chance is here. The destination is fast approaching, and then what will you do? If only you don’t squander it, this could be your chance to say all the things that have plagued you for years.
The cab slows as Joe sidles up to the hotel. Warm light from the lobby spills out the door and into the back of the cab, beckoning you into its safety. However, something stronger in the front of the cab keeps you firmly in place.
“I can’t sleep alone. Not again.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you’ve even had the chance to register them in your mind.
For the first time since you got into the cab, Joe turns to face you so that you can look at each other head-on. He frowns.
You rush on. “Do you remember Austria? After we liberated that camp, I never thought that I would sleep again. I only got rest because you were willing to flaunt the fraternization policy to come hold me, keep me safe.”
“I remember.”
“I think about that, sometimes,” you admit. You probably shouldn’t have told him that, given him that power over you. But who doesn’t regret the things they say at 2 a.m.?
Joe pushes a sigh, long and hard, through his nose. “Fuck.” He adjusts his position so that he’s leaning further back into the cab, closer to you. Through the darkness, you can see the conflict so clearly on his face, with his wrinkled brow, his frown. It’s so familiar.
“I’m sorry,” Joe says. “I really . . . I was stupid. You deserved better than that. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought that I was sparing you.”
“From what?”
“All my pain. My anger.”
“You don’t think I have that, too?”
Joe blinks, like the thought hadn’t occurred to him. When your boyfriend should have been helping you through those things, you had to rely on your old friends from the company instead. You would have helped him through his struggle, if he had only let you.
Then again, Joe Liebgott always had trouble asking for and admitting when he needed help.
“Park the car, Joe,” you say. “No, not here. In one of the parking spots.”
“Why?” Joe asks, even though he’s already pulling into a parking spot – he gets it perfect on the first try, effortlessly.
“Because,” you say. “You’re done driving for the night. You’re coming up to my hotel room and we’re finally going to talk.”
Joe kills the engine, but he doesn’t move from his seat. For a moment he stares at you, like he isn’t sure if this is real, or if he should. He must make up his mind because he nods, gets out of the car, and comes around to open your door for you. In the old days, he would have smirked at you, given you some pick-up line to hear you laugh. Now, he watches you with reserve.
Maybe this is a mistake. But if either of you really feels that what happened was a mistake, then there’s the possibility that it can be fixed, even after all these years. Not in one night, but it will be a start. Tonight, you can do something for Joe that people so often forget that he needs – show him some understanding, some compassion. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to reignite the light that once existed between you again.
#band of brothers#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers imagine#joe liebgott#joe liebgott x reader#joseph liebgott#joseph liebgott x reader#my writing#hbo war fanfic#hbo war
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Cooking for Easy Company pt 1
Masterlist
Joseph liebgott
-Liebgott worshipes you head to toe. And you wanted to return some of his kindness by making him dinner. It was good in thought but not so much in execution. Your attempts at making dinner the way you wanted wasn't going so well. Most likely by the end you still wanted to do something nice. Yet the kitchen was a mess and you were getting frustrated. Plus joe was close to being home. When he saw what you attempted to to he immediately took you in his arms and kissing the top of your head before helping clean up and make an easy dish with you that you enjoyed on the comfort of your couch.
"I wanted to do something nice for you"
"Sweetheart you letting me be your man is all the kindness I need"
Goerge luz
- it was on a weekend. And the smell of his mom's recipe brought him down to the kitchen. Seeing what you're doing immediately puts a huge grin to his face. He wasn't great in the kitchen but good for him, you told that you wanted to do this for him as a nice surprise. He still didn't leave your side. He narrated what you were doing. The lighthearted commentary helped reduce the stress of trying to live up to his mom's cooking abilities.
"Chef looks like my mom has some competition"
Dick Winters
- I feel like you would make him breakfast. Winters gets up way before you do. Downs 2 cups of coffee before getting to work. You wanted for him to actually eat something other than caffeine. It was Saturday morning, he sat next to you reading today's newspaper whilst he drunk coffee number who knows. You kissed his cheek and told him to stay in bed. You made him a basic American breakfast. Bacon, eggs, toast. Nothing super fancy. You handed him the plate along with some oj. Winters fell in love with you all over again.
"Jesus, how did I get so lucky?"
David Webster
- You probably found him to be the one cooking. The man adores you and wanted to be the one who cooked that day's dinner. He's been reading recipes and 'how to cook for dummies' books. You sat on one of the bar stools in your shared kitchen and you two talked about your days. You gave him tips and pointers as he cooked.
"Baby you need more seasonings then that"
"Are you sure?"
"Positive"
Babe heffron
- this man's poor heart lit up with joy when he saw what you were doing. Yet so did his stomach. He would sit and watch you cook. He would often steal bites of your culinary delights. Hehe that rhymed. And you would constantly slap his hands away. He would give you the biggest puppy dog eyes ever.
"If you keep up you won't be hungry when it's finished"
"But it's sooo goood"
#band of brothers headcanon#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers#band of brothers x reader#joe liebgott#Joseph liebgott x reader#Goerge luz#dick winters#richard winters#dick winters x reader#David Webster#David Webster x reader#babe heffron#babe heffron x reader#george luz x reader
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