#Lipton x Reader

[shiftysdogtags]

Rainy Days

To the Anon who requested this, tumblr would let me answer it so I've had to post it here. i wasn't sure which boy(s) you wanted so i went a bit crazy and did all of them🙈 They’re brief little mentions so if you want me to elaborate on anyone please let me know! I’d love to do a full headcanon on any boy of your choice. And if I missed anyone tell me and I’ll add them.

Requests are open

Taglist: @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant​ @floydtab​

James Alley

He doesn’t like the sudden loud noise when the doors close suddenly

He must make sure all the windows are closed, and the bedroom doors can’t slam, and he checks them almost hourly

To get him to relax you have to distract him with random things like a story your friend told you earlier in the week

Most of the time he doesn’t listen and when he gets up to check the doors again you have to follow him

He normally calls a rainy day a nap day and when he has calmed down you have found his nodding off in the strangest of places

You leave him to sleep in peace because a good sleep for him is rare due to his bad dreams

A sleep always makes him feel better whether its five minutes or five hours and when he wakes up, he is like a whole new person and the rain is forgotten

Buck Compton

It’s you who mopes around the house, bored and not having anything you can do that will distract you long enough

Buck comes home early because the weather has prevented people getting to the courts in time and the cases can’t proceed as a result

You basically jump on him as soon as he crosses the threshold of the door begging him to entertain you

He teaches you how to play darts to pass the time

He whispers little tips in your ear, and he is full of encouragement

When you miss the board completely, he lets you retake the shot, pretending he didn’t see you throw the dart or muttering a little ‘that doesn’t count’

As you start to get better, he comes to your level but lets you win most of the time because he likes to see how excited you get

That and he gets to stand behind you with one hand on your hip and the other covering your hand

As you start to improve so does the weather but you’re both having too much fun to notice

And Buck really doesn’t want to go back to prepping cases when he can spend time with you

Chuck Grant

Grant sits and complains to you that it’s raining as if you had something to do with it

It’s almost as if he is having a staring competition with the rain and part of the deal is if he wins it will stop raining

He doesn’t like the sound of the rain and he tries everything to drown out the sound

His favourite thing is your voice, so he asks you to talk about anything and everything humanly possible

The weather has some weird effect on Grant because when the temperature drops his body temperature drops as well

He is cold to the touch and he begs you to cuddle so he can get warm again

When he sees you coming, he couldn’t be happier, and he knows he is going to have the most amazing nap possible

He wraps you around him and before his head hits the pillow, he is fast asleep

He wakes up first and somehow manages to sneak away without waking you up in order to make you a little thank you dinner for putting up with his rainy-day mood

He’s a surprisingly really good cook and whatever he makes always tastes amazing

Bill Guarnere

Like Grant, Bill likes to cook

He cooks something his mother makes, and it takes hours and I literally mean hours

He is at it all day and he somehow manages to drag it out

You can hear him complaining about how it doesn’t taste right and the occasional clatter of a fork falling on the floor

His poor mother must hate rainy days too because he calls her at least ten times to ask her a question and when she tells him what he is doing wrong he gets annoyed with himself

It really is a labour of love and you just have to let him at it to go through the process by himself

You think he does it because it’s therapeutic for him but the state he leaves the kitchen in is unmerciful

He uses every utensil and spice or herb you have, and he gets more of it on the counter than he does in the dish but the clean up afterwards is part of the process

To be fair to Bill and his mother, it does taste amazing and you’re always thankful he makes enough to have the next day

And of course, he keeps a little bit for his mother because he wants her to have some of his dish and see how proud he is of it

Babe Heffron

You and Babe bake on rainy days

He literally begs for you to do something with him and he pouts until you agree

Babe can act like a bored toddler and he has to have something to do

The kitchen ends up covered in flour and there are chocolate chips mashed into the floor from you both accidentally stepping on them

Of course, he helps you clean up, but he tries to distract you with threats to tickle you

You’re running around the house away from him and you almost forget about the cookies in the oven

You take them out just in time to salvage them and you sit down with Babe on a well-deserved break from all the running

A truce is called when he gives you the biggest kiss on your cheek and thanking you for spending time with him

Joe Liebgott

Lieb looks like he is always ready to fight but he is actually such a soft boy so stay with me

If the rain is bad enough, he won’t bother going out in his cab because there aren’t enough people about to make it worthwhile

It’s nice when he takes the rare day off and you make use of the free time you get to spend with him

He loves to read his comic with you in between his legs and your head on his chest

The thought of having you cuddling with him and not outside getting soaked to the skin is enough to make him have butterflies in his heart

He always lets you pick the comic you want to read together

And it doesn’t matter how many times he has read it before because he uses it as an excuse to have you close to him

He reads it aloud and you can feel the vibrations of his chest as he talks and the soft kisses to the top of your head

Even when you can see the rain has stopped neither of you move because you're too comfortable

Carwood Lipton

The day isn’t very exciting and you both just laze around the house with no plan in particular

He likes to read the paper in his armchair that is tucked away in a corner of the sitting room beside the window

Lip likes to listen to the rain but wouldn’t dream of going outside, using it as background noise because he can’t sit in silence

Just looking at it through the window is enough for him and he enjoys the heat from the house and his nice dry jumper

And being in wet clothes with the windy rain reminds him of the time he got sick and had pneumonia in Hagenau

You make a hot cup of tea or coffee for the two of you and place them on the small side table so you can sit in his lap

He is always warm, and he doesn’t mind sharing his heat

George Luz  

A free day with George was never boring and certainly never dull

Together you have plans that have to be abandoned because the weather doesn’t want to cooperate with you

He does an impression of the weatherman on the radio telling you it was raining as if you hadn’t just seen it seconds before him

But George doesn’t let it ruin your day and he turns the outdoor date into an indoor date

He puts on his best shirt and manages to pull flowers out of thin air

Like the gentleman he is he formally asks you dance with a kiss to the back of your hand

Before you know it, he has you spinning around the kitchen to whatever was playing on the radio

This poor bean tries his best to dance but he is hopeless

He doesn’t let that stop him from him showing you his moves and attempting to look sexy with his hips

You’re both in your own little bubble nether of you have realised it has stopped raining

Donald Malarkey

No matter what, every time you go for a walk with Don you somehow manage to get caught in the rain

Its almost as if whatever force there may be sees you both enjoying a lovely peaceful walk and decided that it is the perfect time to open the heavens and cause a little flood

While you're walking, Don sees a puddle and the biggest smirk you have ever seen crosses his face so of course you know he is up to no good

He kicks the water from the puddle at you, as if you weren’t already wet enough

This single action starts a puddle war to see who can kick the most water and who can find the biggest puddle to jump in

The whole walk home you can see people looking at you from behind their curtains and shaking their heads, but you were having too much fun to care

When you reach your home, both of you are soaked and covered in dirt

You have never laughed so much, and your stomach always hurts

Once you are both clean and dry, Don lights the fire and you order food and settle in for the afternoon

Johnny Martin

He usually sits and broods at the weather mumbling curses under his breath

Every time there is a flash of lightning or a clap of thunder, he rolls his eyes and you can almost feel it every time he does it

He will spend hours looking out the window with his pouty face until you pull him away

Martin has a constant resting bitch face but once you ask him to do something with you his face changes at a scarily fast rate

You are literally the light of his life and makes sure to tell you every change he gets

And he can't say no to you

When you get him going, he can be surprisingly soft, and he does whatever you ask him to

He likes to be needed and when he sees you trying to change a lightbulb or something he jumps up and does it for you

He does it while still cursing the weather and glancing at the window every five seconds to see if it has cleared up

Skip Muck

Skip runs around the house telling you to relax and not to panic when he’s the one who is really panicking

Every time you go into a room to try calm him down, he manages to slip past you and continue his pacing

The only way to get him to stop is to distract him and your go to is building a fort in the sitting room

You both gather all the blankets and pillows from around the house and make a fort big enough for two and all the snacks he insists he needs

You try to outdo your last fort and Skip always that that every cave in or remodelling is worth it in the end

Skip does stupid things to keep him distracted from boredom

Like betting you that he can fit more M&M’s in his mouth than you

Just so we’re clear he won that bet and you had to do the dishes for a whole week by yourself

Lewis Nixon

On the early mornings you wake up to the rain beating against the window Lew refuses to get out of bed

And he won’t let you get out of bed either

He has his arms wrapped firmly around your waist with his head buried into your hair and nothing on earth can make him loosen his tight grip

Eventually you manage to bribe him out of bed with the promise of hot coffee and getting back into bed as soon as possible

After a quick bite to eat and the gathering of snacks so you don’t have to move again you both watch crappy tv and have it loud enough to drown out the sound of the rain

He doesn’t understand personal space and he is constantly touching you and your legs are intertwined

A rainy day is usually a bed day for you and Nixon, and you wouldn’t have it any other way

Frank Perconte

This man does not like the cold and he hates it more than anything

He calls his mother and asks her for the recipe for the soup he likes

He has sweater paws and fluffy socks at the ready for occasions like a rainy day where no matter what he does he can’t seem to get warm

Of course, he uses this as an excuse to whine to you about being cold and needing extra kisses

Not that you’re complaining of course

He always has the heat turned up and he is still freezing cold while you're sweating from the sauna that is your home

He always tries to make you laugh and somehow ends up hurting himself

He slides across the floor in his socks and he tries to impress you until he nearly falls, and he decides he better stop

Shifty Powers

It’s you who refuses to do anything on a rainy day, and you close all the curtains and try to pretend that it’s not teeming outside

Even when you have blocked out any sign of the sun and day light Shifty brightens up the room

Rainy days make him think of all the things he can do in the outdoors and he makes a mental note of them all as he lists them all off to you

You don’t know where he gets his energy from because at the first sign of rain he buzzes around the house where most people would slow down and try to relax

Shifty makes you promise to do something with him once it dries up and there is no way you can say no to this angel and his beautiful face

He’s always warm and never complains when your cold hands steal his body heat

He also lets you wear his hoodies because they’re warmer and comfier due to their bigger size

Eugene Roe

The porch on your house with Eugene has a couch swing and you both like to sit on it and watch the rain together

He uses it as an excuse to be close to you because he won’t vocally ask for attention or cuddles

He normally fiddles with your hands as he smokes, and he is the quiet type, so the silence is comfortable

When he does break the silence it’s to ask you if you’re alright and to whisper sweet nothings in French into your ear

Gene is a natural caregiver and he likes to know you’re warm enough and safe in his arms

But when your nose gets red and you start to shiver you better believe he has whisked you inside for hot chocolate

He carries you inside and places you down on the armchair like a delicate feather

And of course, you watch him fly around the kitchen doing his thing because he is so handsome and who wouldn’t want to watch him?

Skinny Sisk

This boy is always yawning no matter what and this increases when it rains

He goes about his business yawning more than usual and eventually he just crashes and needs a nap

When you go to place a blanket over him, he likes to pull you down on top of him, so he has his favourite napping buddy with him

Despite your protests that you have things to do you can’t help but give in because he’s so cute when he is sleepy

He makes sure your head is on his chest and his arms are around you

The sound of his heartbeat and the rain from outside is a nice calming combination and you can’t help but join him for a nap and before you know it you’ve fallen asleep

Ronald Speirs

Ron continues to do whatever he is doing and refused to be defeated by water falling from the sky

No matter how hard it is raining he will not admit he was stupid, and he should’ve gone inside when he had the chance because he is stubborn

It’s only when he is completely soaked and whatever he was doing isn’t working out the way he wanted will he give in and come inside

He complains about it for ages as if someone had flipped a switched on the clouds so they could ruin his day

Everywhere he walks in the house can be easily identified by the puddles on the floor

After he changes into dry clothes, he plops himself on top of you on the couch for cuddles

With arms wrapped around you he buries his head into the crook of your neck

And he loves when you run your hands through his wet hair

It’s normally enough to put him to sleep and the soft snores that come from his slightly opened mouth is the cutest thing ever

Floyd Talbert

Tab is always deep in thought when it rains because it's like his brain goes into overdrive

He sits outside in the porch while Trigger runs and rolls around in the dirt and he throws the occasional stick for Trigger to fetch

He pulls on his lip and he is completely spaced out so you leave him to his thoughts, and you know when he comes around, he will look for you when he is ready

When he comes inside you can feel his eyes on you from across the room and you know it’s only a matter of time before he starts acting up and asking you for kisses

He likes to flirt with you so he can distract you from whatever you’re doing

When you give him your undivided attention, he feels like he has won the best prize possible

You both wash the dirt from Triggers fur and although it's a mainly silent activity, Tab knows he has everything he will ever need in that bathroom

Joe Toye

If poor Joe gets caught in the rain, there is nothing stopping him from losing it

I’m channelling that ‘someone’s gonna die’ scene where someone left a surprise for him in his foxhole  

It sets his mood up for the rest of the day and he can’t help but be miserable

And he is just waiting for the moment he starts sniffling and coughing because he has gotten sick

Coming home his clothes are physically stuck to his skin and he slams every door on his way to the bedroom where he can get changed

When he is done, he can’t help but smile and feel a little bit better when you have coffee and his favourite hoodie ready for him

He lists everything that happened to him that day while you run your hands through his hair

Joe openly admits that his day is much better now that he has you beside him

Once he has calmed down enough and he can’t escape his position from under your legs you pull out the paint samples for the new bathroom

He hates that kind of thing and he has been avoiding it for as long as possible

But he loves the smile on your face once he helps you decide, and he reluctantly admits that it was worth the effort

David Webster

Web doesn’t like to be on his own when it rains

He doesn’t know why but he feels uneasy and he needs to have company

He is content with reading a book by himself once there is someone else in the room with him

So, you do your thing and he does his thing and if you need to move to a different room, he follows you

Every so often he breaks the silence by asking you to listen to part of the chapter he just read, and he asks your opinion

I feel like he writes your opinion in the little blank column of the page and he loves to reread books because they remind him of you and what you thought of them

David’s handwriting is all over the books in your home and they all have sticky post it notes hanging from them

You’ve often caught him staring off into the distance while he thinks in depth about the paragraph he has just read

Richard Winters

While most people might think of a rainy day as a write off Dick will use it to do the things, he has been avoiding or too busy to do, like writing letters

He is usually tucked away in his office and he doesn’t notice how bad it is outside and how much the clouds have overcast causing everything to go dark

He continues his focus on the task at hand until the lights go out

He drops everything that he is doing and goes walking around the house to find you because he doesn’t want you to be alone in the dark

You both go searching for all the candles you have in the house, so you have some form of light

As a couple you don’t spend much time apart but there are times your schedules are busy, and time together is rare

You talk about your week and you treat it as a small catch up

The fire is lit for heat and you both share a blanket on the floor

It’s occasions like rainy days that remind you both how much you love each other and how lucky you are to need nothing but Dick to be happy

[archivallyminded]

💥 What He Says During Fights Just to Shut You Up and Fluster You: Easy Company Edition

🗡️ Joe Liebgott

“God, you’re hot when you’re mad.”

Says it deadpan, like he’s annoyed about it. Like your rage is a personal inconvenience to his self-control.

You’re mid-rant, and now you’re just blinking and furious and blushing, trying to stutter up an answer.

Bonus: "Yeah yeah, keep yelling- I’m already planning the makeup sex.”

🐕 Bill Guarnere

“Y’know what? I’m gonna marry you.”

You’re yelling. He’s pacing. You say something cutting and he spins around and just drops it.

Smug grin. Total chaos. You may actually drop whatever you're holding and simply stare at him openly.

“There. Now what’re you gonna do about it, wife?”

He says it snarkily, but the hesitation that occurs right after showing just how much it'd mean to either of you.

He calls you “Mrs.” for the rest of the night just to get under your skin.

💥 Joe Toye

“Get over here and say it to my face, sweetheart.”

Said like a threat, but his voice drops a full octave and you know exactly what game he’s playing.

You freeze. He smirks.

“Thought so.”

Later pulls you in by the belt loop and murmurs,

“Still mad, or you done giving me ideas?”

💼 Dick Winters

“If we’re gonna keep fighting, the least you could do is do it with your legs around my waist.”

You go silent. He’s calm, arms crossed, knowing exactly what he just did. And knowing no one would believe you if you said he EVER said it.

Then: “Didn’t think so.”

He leaves the room without another word, but a slight (smirk???) on his face as he goes.

You take a full ten minutes to fan yourself off, and remain flustered for the rest of the decade.

🥃 Nixon

“Swear to God, if you keep talking like that I’m gonna marry you out of spite.”

You: “Excuse me?”

Him: “You heard me. Keep going. Let’s pick out china patterns while we’re at it.”

He winks. You throw a pillow at him. It’s foreplay now.

😐 Speirs

“You yelling at me turns me on. Just so you know.”

You were mid-tears, and now you’re wide-eyed and mortified.

He shrugs like it’s just a fact.

“Keep going. I can take it.”

You hate how fast your voice dies in your throat.

🕯️ Doc Roe

“You’re very cute when you’re trying to intimidate me.”

Said with a small smile and a look.

You throw your hands up. He steps closer.

“Say it again. I like it when your eyes get all stormy.”

You forgot what the fight was about. He didn’t. He just wins quietly.

📱 George Luz

“Say that again. Slower. Might have to record it for later.” You glare. He grins that shit-eating grin of his. You turn bright red.

“C’mon, yell at me like that again. Daddy likes it.”

You walk out of the room, trying not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you trying not to laugh. He follows you, smug, and absolutely not sorry.

🍺 Buck Compton

“You done? Or do I need to kiss you right now and shut you up?"

His tone = serious. His eyes = starving. HIs arms crossed.

You stammer. He steps closer, slowly growing amused.

“Didn’t think so.”

Fight over. Hormones winning.

📚 David Webster

“If you’re gonna keep psychoanalyzing me, do it while sitting in my lap.”

You short-circuit. He knows.

“What? You wanna fight and not be in my arms? Make it make sense.”

Later writes about the argument like a poem. You're ruined.

🪖 Johnny Martin

“You got one more smart thing to say or do I gotta kiss you to shut you up?”

Comes out low, cocky, half-serious, and fully feral.

You’re yelling, pacing, fuming.

And he leans against the wall like he’s watching his favorite movie

“Goddamn, you’re sexy when you’re mad at me.”

You glare openly. He’s laughing now.

The fight’s still unresolved, but you’re blushing too hard to finish it and need to go outside to cool off.

🎧 Floyd Talbert

You’re mid-rant. He’s leaning back in a chair, arms folded, grinning like the smug bastard he is.

“Seriously. Get louder. I’m two seconds from proposing again just for the drama.”

You: “Again??”

Him: “I practice when you’re not looking.”

🎣 Don Malarkey

“You’re yelling now, but I know damn well you love me.”

Soft but devastating. You’re in the middle of accusing him of not listening, and then he just smiles.

“Get it out, sweetheart. Then let me hold you.”

The quiet confidence makes your brain short-circuit.

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

Cute.

hey, your pining headcannons are actually the best! sorry if it bothers you, but if it doesn't, can you write the same for Lip and Toye ? :]

Omg thank you anon, that's so sweet 💕🥺 It doesn't bother me at all - I've really enjoyed writing these! I hope you like them :)

Lipton

His love language is Acts of Service and that is the hill I will die on

He constantly helps everyone, so it takes you a minute to realize that he will literally drop whatever he's doing if you need help

He just genuinely enjoys spending time around you, so he's always there

And he spends a lot of his time with you just taking note of small details. He looks at you like he's trying to memorize everything about you

Okay, I know a lot of people don't like the musical Hamilton, but you know that one line that's like "If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it"? That's how he feels about you

With Lipton, you're actually the one who makes the first move

You're sharing a foxhole in Bastogne, shaking in between the shellings when he offers you his blanket. Fate is so uncertain in that moment, and because anything can happen you know you have to tell him

"Lip, I just want you to know . . . War is hell, but right now? This kind of feels like Heaven."

I'm not saying that that's what gives him the strength the finish the war and make sure you both make it home together, but I actually am saying that, because if you have to trace it back, that's the moment it all comes together for you guys

Toye

This man is literally so in awe of you! He has a habit of just *heart eyes emoji* whenever you're around

"Jesus, Joe - you're starin'. Just go talk to her!" - Literally everyone

It's a constant mix of him trying to impress you and being impressed by you (because he knows that you're just that cool)

Like, he tries to beat his best time running Currahee to impress you, but when you beat his best time instead he can't even be upset about it because wow

When you guys are in combat, he's always near you, always covering you, always making sure that you're okay

He's kind of an intimidating guy and he knows it, which is why he's kind of nervous about what you think of him

He has definitely fought people on your behalf, whether you know it or not

After one of the colder night marches he hears you complaining about being cold, so he just kind of hugs you like I can fix that

"Wow, Joe. Those arms sure are something. Who knew they would be so warm." "Well, you're welcome to them anytime."

*Instant regret and embarrassment because he's Joe Freakin' Toye and he's usually way smoother than that*

"I'll be taking you up on that"

You guys take that as becoming official, and coincidentally, it's the only time anyone has ever seen him blush

[steveharringf]

band of brothers • behind the scenes pt. 2

[awaterfalls]

Okay, I'm excited to post all of it!!!

• I had to post the pacific cast too bc the pic is so cute to be left out 😊

• I keep looking at this pics all the time and I don't know what to say anymore.. I JUST LOVE THEM!!!! 😭😭😭😭

Part 4/??

[speirslore]

band of brothers flirting styles + reaction to you flirting back

(this includes winters, nixon, speirs, lipton, roe, bull, and liebgott! but if your fav isn't here, feel free to send an ask and i'll add them!)

lmk if you would like to be on my taglist: @ronsparky @bcon24 @blueberry-ovaries @1waveshortofashipwreck @beautifulbluejay

[dick winters]

dick feels kind of useless when trying to flirt

a lot of it is nix having very middle school vibes of 'hey, my friend over there thinks you're gorgeous btw'

it's very endearing

you waltz over to where dick is and his ears are already red before you even get to the table

he'll apologize abt lew instantly and you frown like, "oh, was it a joke?"

dick immediately is like "no, no, he- i meant it"

his nervous rambling is sooo cute to you, you can only smile and say, "i'm glad and by the way, i think you're pretty gorgeous too."

if his face can go any redder, it definitely does then

when you start talking, he's slowly getting less flushed and more comfortable

but he's an overthinker so he still isn't totally convinced that you're flirting

has to have lew pull him aside, shake him a little bit, and be like, yes they are absolutely into you, yes that is flirting

i do think dick can get super flirty once he's more comfortable, like once you're dating and it's just the two of you, he's so charming and sweet

but the first time you meet, he's just so shy but still very sincere with his compliments

dick is great about making eye contact because he just thinks your eyes are so beautiful

the night ends with his hand on the small of your back

and tbh the spiciest it will get after you first meet is a kiss to his cheek when he's leaving with a napkin with your number written on it

and nix is just watching like a proud father <3

[lewis nixon]

if there's one thing lewis nixon is, he is charming

he's very used to disarming others with said charm

he is such a gentleman... he was painstakingly subjected to a lot of manners and etiquette classes as a child/teenager

and lew now puts it to good use!

he's so good at flirting with his own brand of nihilistic, high society charm

so when you flirt back and respond... he's sooo excited like this is so fun for him

lew is very used to people being completely disarmed by him

but you're not... you grinned when he walked over to where you and your friends were talking and asked you to dance, and pressed a kiss to his cheek when you said yes

he does blush faintly, which is a huge deal for lew because that never really happens

once you're dancing, oh he's a menace

he's having SO much fun, hand on your waist maybeee moving lower

he thinks you’re so funny and lew’s grin and laugh... so top tier

it's so nice when it's genuine, and even though you just met him you want to hear it again and again

he can't stop smiling like it's soooo obvious, lew makes absolutely no effort to hide how attracted to you his is

does not try to play it cool at all like he wants you sooo bad

has absolutely no shame

and it does not take long before you're making out outside the pub, already feeling familiar and warm in his arms

[ron speirs]

ron honestly feels a little silly trying to flirt

it's very hard for him to get out of his own head about it

the most intense eye contact ever?

eye contact is ron's version of flirting

'like why don't they understand i want them in every possible way... i'm looking at them??'

ron really just does not understand, he's pulling out all the stops with his slightly unnerving eye contact

and also just talking, like if he's willingly having a longer than 5 minute conversation with you and actually talking about himself? ron is actually professing his undying love

a lot of just blunt complimenting too, i mean sweet compliments but just out of nowhere, like "you have beautiful eyes, you know."

when you flirt back, touch his arm, and look up at him, he's definitely melting inside

especially if you're normally more shy or reserved... oh he's hooked

he doesn't outwardly show it... at least not obviously... but you can tell from his eyes, the way they intensify, darken, widen, and focus on you

ron does love praise

"you know lieutenant, ron, you do have gorgeous eyes, too."

"and i love your hair, the sweetest curls"

oh he's yours entirely... please give him all the words of affirmation

it gets pretty obvious when he's really responding to your flirting, staring at your lips and biting his lip, moving closer to you

has this smirk that just subconsciously appears

like lew, escalates very quickly

ron is a very physical person and that's when he can really show his attraction ;)

[eugene roe]

eugene is not confident in his flirting at all

he's very very subtle

and he honestly does better talking to someone he's attracted to by just striking up normal conversation and learning about them and not approaching it as trying to flirt

his voice goes lower and raspier if that's even possible

especially if you're in a bar, with a lot of music and voices loud, he just instinctually leans closer to your ear, face so so close

then immediately realizes he's super close to you now and tries not to freak out

gene has to get out of his own head first and when he does that, he can be so charming

he just unintentionally has that sexy suave energy

especially when he drops certain pet names in french

you flirting back is a hugeeee relief for him

and repeating said french? like yes it’s cheesy and cliche but it sounds so nice coming from your lips!

he can't hide his smile at all like, laughing into the sip of his drink

"i'm impressed," he'll murmur

"you should be, i'm pulling out all the stops for you, eugene."

oh he blushes so badly

he lovessss hearing you say his name, he's so used to only being 'doc' or 'roe', it's so nice to actually hear his name, especially coming from you <3

[bull randleman]

oh he's so sweet!

that southern drawl... yeah it's super charming

and the cigar... sorry it's super sexy

i think he would be surprised, pleasantly surprised

and then would immediately proceed to get super shy though

he feels like he's got a good head on him, resourceful, smart, etc

but it all goes out the window when you're flirting with him!

yes he def blushes

also very observant to how you're reacting

i think he would be really into kisses but would be scared to initiate anything

especially the first time meeting you

would love to dance

is he that great... no... does he feel like his hands are way too sweaty... yes... does he step on your foot a few times... maybe

but it's very endearing!

very southern gentleman of course

like he is definitely holding the door open for you, standing up when you walk into the room, etc

[joe liebgott]

joe is incredibly charming

and very honest

like he lays it on pretty thick

there's never any questioning of 'is he actually into me? or is he just talking to me?'... he leaves absolutely no room for overthinking

like you definitely know... there is never a doubt

and when you flirt back he gets the biggest, cocky grin

joe gets into it extremely quickly, will definitely immediately match your energy (and then some)

"doll, angel, pretty, cutie.." he's pulling out all the stops

loves teasing and going back and forth with you

criminal "yeah?" usage by him

the BEST at keeping eye contact, props up head with his hand just watching you talk

skinny, tipper, smokey, tab, etc are all definitely watching from a few tables away, intrigued and impressed, and very obviously

you notice and grin, "wanna give them a show?"

joe would never say no to that! so you just lean forward and kiss him, hand pulling his chin gently closer

and this man is already feral... the noises??? he has range and he's a little freaky, a little spurred on by a crowd, by his friends watching, shaking their heads, caught up into the moment

but ofc when you pull away, oh now he's shy... like he's so red

but make no mistake joe is definitely into it... very very into you

[carwood lipton]

lip feels so weird trying to flirt tbh

very much like, is this allowed?

not as like... alien as ron, more similar to dick in he's just a little, a lot, self conscious

but he's also so naturally personable and kind

and he attracts so many people naturally because of that

including you

talking in a group with a bunch of other soldiers with your friends, you're immediately drawn to him

you smiling at him definitely makes him feel more at ease

you definitely do have to encourage him to relax because he has a littleee trouble holding eye contact, looking down a lot

and then suddenly there’s another man staring at you, approaching you, and standing a little too close

and even though you don't know carwood, you're still looking at him silently for help

and ofc he's very observant of people and situations

so his hand snakes around the small of your back

and lip is naturally protective and careful, guiding you through the crowd

"my prince charming," you say and he of course blushes, muttering a small “maybe.”

"i hope so," you grin and lip can't help but smile too

[don malarkey]

does don really have a flirting style… no

he just tries his best

can hold conversation and compliment you and hope for the best

but it’s very endearing to you

don is SO easily flustered… him even approaching you at talk was huge

big difference him with his friends, he definitely talks a big talk

and babe and bill and joe get sick of listening to him talk about wanting to approach you

bill threatens to go up to you himself. he will snitch on don

but when he actually finally works up the courage to go over to you, all that bravo immediately vanished

don used up all his confidence just getting himself to approach you and he didn't really plan for anything after

struggles at first to make eye contact

goes very red, especially in his neck and ears

but it gets better! and he hypes himself up in his head because you're entertaining him, talking back and smiling at his nervousness

a lot nervous laughter

his reaction to you flirting? first, it's thank god, and the excitement takes over and he's so in his head that he forgets to respond

but gets more comfortable throughout the night, arm resting across your shoulder, cheeks warm (feeling the alcohol) but very content

[luminouslywriting]

Can I request a BOB headcanon where you haven't been sleeping well recently and the boys begin to notice that you're a bit sleep deprived, please?

^^Gif is not mine and belongs to yourspeirs^^

A/N: Hello darling! This is a great request and I'm super excited to get this out to you guys! School started today, I got to wear my vintage 1955 lipstick that I ordered, and I'm chillin! So enjoy!

Dick Winters:

-Honestly, he probably clocks it before you even realize that the exhaustion is setting in. He's someone who pays close attention to the little things and is going to encourage you to get some rest.

-And yes, this may be given in the form of an order if you don't listen to him at first

-But if he also realizes that you're having a hard time sleeping, he's going to have a few good ol' home remedies for such a situation

-There's this wonderful tea that he makes (if the resources are available), and it absolutely helps you relax right before you go to sleep. He's also more than happy to talk to you about plans for the future as you try to fall asleep if that will help.

Lewis Nixon:

-Haha, he's not getting any good rest either. But worry not, he's got a great solution 👀

-Yes, it's literally just: "You're having trouble sleeping? I'm having trouble sleeping? The solution clearly is that we sleep together. But literally, just sleep."

-He's a chronic cuddler and this is a great way for you to get comfortable and relax. If not, he's also more than happy to look for alternative means

-Otherwise, get comfy as he doesn't like to let go until late morning haha

Ronald Speirs:

-Is probably too busy to notice?? At least at first. If it's to a point that he's noticing it, then it's probably a definite problem and he's definitely going to just give you an order to go to sleep.

-And yes, he'd go to your superior officers about it or even to the medics and order you to have a nap

-He's not above using his position to ensure that you get the proper rest that you need

-Speirs cares...it's just in his own way and that means that he's going to do whatever it takes to ensure that you're feeling better :)

Buck Compton:

-Someone who picks up on it pretty quickly and gently prods about it. He's got all sorts of stories that he remembers from his history and literature classes in college that he can tell you about while you're trying to fall asleep

-He's also pretty attentive to figuring out if it's a noise issue or a light issue and finding ways to block out sound or help with the light.

-He's going to check in and make sure that the sleep is getting better and this is something that continues well after the war

-He remembers the little things :)

Carwood Lipton:

-A mother hen about the entire thing—he's out here clocking immediately that you're exhausted and not looking too good. He's worrying incessantly.

-He's not going to overstep his boundaries...but he might kindly suggest that you speak to the medics or to a superior officer about catching a few hours of rest

-Will check back in with you to see if you were able to rest. If you were, then great. If not...then he's going to be pulling out all the stops and is going to come and lay by you until you fall asleep.

-Literally the sweetest man to go to if you're sleep deprived.

Joe Liebgott:

-Doesn't really realize that it's a problem until you're probably swaying on your feet

-It's at this point that he's going to gracefully guide you over to a cot or somewhere that you can nap and is going to sweet talk you into getting the rest that you need

-Wants to know why you didn't tell him that you haven't been sleeping well lately....he just wants you to be okay and well rested

-Also might bribe you with some slightly dirty promises haha

Donald Malarkey:

-Has clocked this a while ago and is just patiently waiting for you to realize that you need to get some rest. He's very respectful of boundaries and wants you to make your own decisions.

-Is not above stealing some chocolate to bribe you into taking a nap haha

-Absolutely the type to encourage you to count sheep or stars to try and help you fall asleep

-Also a very good cuddler to help people fall asleep

Eugene Roe:

-The sweetest bestest man for this situation??? Like, listen, he gets it. This is also someone who is sleep deprived. However, he worries way more about you and your health.

-Will pull medical rank to ensure that you get your nap

-Also more than willing to sneak you something to make sure that you fall asleep haha

-But more than anything, he's the type of man to tell you old Cajun tales in his soft voice to get you sleepy

Bill Guarnere:

-Literally will point blank tell you to go take a nap

-Then in a much softer and sweeter tone, will swing his arm around you, and ask if he can take a nap with you

-He's very invested in making sure that you're well rested and is the type of man to bribe with food and other means to ensure that you listen to what your body needs—and that's sleep

-Will talk your ear off about what it's going to be like when you're sleep deprived after the war and WHY you're going to be sleep deprived. I promise it's for a much dirtier reason lol.

Joe Toye:

-Acts as though he himself is tired and needs to take a nap. And point blank asks if you'll help him fall asleep.

-This technique is sneaky and though you might pick up on it, it's the thought that counts here

-He's out here ensuring that you don't feel like you're stressing him out by doing this—and making you feel as though you're helping him just as much as he's helping you

-Honestly, this man is a 10/10 in this situation

George Luz:

-Makes you laugh so hard that you cry out of exhaustion and then asks you if you're tired so that you have to admit it

-At which point he just takes your hand and declares that you're going to take a nap and he's going to watch your back for you

-It's all very sweet and very Luz of him tbh

-Holds your hand until you're asleep and presses a kiss to your forehead

[privatebullshit]

with faith undaunted [part 04.]

— ♡

part 04. longing [2.9k+ words]

summary: y/n y/l/n is a nurse-in-training when she meets joseph j. toye in 1942, shortly after the attack on pearl harbor, at camp toccoa. she's the americana dream, he's a reckless private. what happens when their fates cross paths?

♡ follow along on their journey of love, loss, and hardship as the story progresses in events taking place before, during, and after the war. ♡

warnings: language

a/n: this one is gonna sting a bit, sorry ya'll

song rec: once more to see you - mitski, i'm your man - mitski

wfu taglist: @luvrottt @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @fromjupitertocentauri @annasansh @bluecanvasshoe @catbusloki

previous parts: 00. promo 01. remembrance 02. blossoming 03. timidity

wfu masterlist bofb masterlist

— ♡

Early 1943

Joe and the other Easy Company men had completed their jump training out of the C47 aircrafts, which marked that they were officially Paratroopers and were bound to receive their jump wings. Y/n and Joe hadn't seen each other in a while, all too busy with their training to share a moment with one another. The big jump wasn't too far away now, and the war effort would soon demand more out of them.

But now? Hell, it was time to celebrate! The company was currently in one of Fort Bennington's pubs, chugging beers and slamming down the empty glasses, listening to old records, and shouting heartily, all of their tension melting away. Joe was having the time of his life, but the only thing missing was her.

He leaned against the counter, waiting for George to shut his yap so he could get a beer. When the latter finally turned around, Joe had to listen to his bullshit before getting a drink.

"Corporal Toye," Luz said, mimicking Sobel's infuriating voice, "there will be no leaning in my company."

Joe rolled his eyes, but stood up straight anyway, humoring the idiot for the time being.

"Are those dusty jump wings?" Luz asked, causing Joe to look down and blow hot air onto the wings, polishing them with his thumb. "How do you expect to slay the Huns with dust on your jump wings?"

Having enough of Luz's imitations, Joe grabbed him by the lapel of his uniform, pulling him in just enough to speak lowly, "Luz, just give me a drink."

George grinned widely, laughing to himself as Joe let him go, "Hell of an idea, Joe. There ya go." He placed a tall glass of cold beer in front of Joe, who took it and raised it to toast with George.

"Three miles up, three miles down," George said, Joe nodding in agreement as they clinked glasses and took a sip.

The moment was cut short when the sound of the record scratching rang through the air, followed by a loud "Ten-hut!" Every soldier put their glasses down, standing at attention as Colonel Sink came into view.

"Well, at ease, Paratroopers," he spoke warmly, the men following his instruction and standing in a relaxed position. "Good evening, Easy Company."

"Evening, sir!" they responded.

A few more words and a glass of beer was exchanged, Colonel Sink raising his glass and shouting, "Currahee!"

All of Easy eagerly exclaimed "Currahee" back, cheering and whistling in congratulations to them all. As Colonel Sink went elsewhere, the men started to have fun once more, playing drinking games and betting packs of smokes.

It wasn't until the record scratched again that everyone had to stop what they were doing, but there was no call to stand at attention, no heavy steps made by boots of important officers, just the soft click clack of heels against the wooden floor. In fact, it was just that a pretty woman had walked in, dressed in her starched and ironed nurse uniform, a Red Cross armband now adorning her left arm.

Joe turned his head to find the source of the sudden silence, his eyes widening and jaw going slack as he saw y/n standing in the doorway. She looked like she was looking for someone, and his heart couldn't help but thump at the fact that it might be him she's searching for. He placed the now warm glass of beer on the counter, meeting her halfway as they both waded through the sea of enlisted men.

Everyone's heads were turned as they stood in front of each other now, gazes full of soft admiration and mutual pining that only those two couldn't figure out. Joe's hands trembled as he took hers, raising it to his lips to press a soft kiss to her knuckles, letting it fall back to her side.

"Joe," she breathed out, her voice filling his ears with a sweet melody that the record couldn't dare to recreate.

"Y/n, you're here," he responded, shock and relief lacing his voice. Y/n nodded, still gazing up at him as if he was the only Paratrooper in the room.

"I wanted to say congratulations. . . on becoming a Paratrooper," she spoke softly, adjusting her headscarf slightly.

Joe reached out to tuck a piece of hair that fell out of place behind her ear, "Thanks. You too, y'know, on becoming an official nurse for the Army Nurse Corps." His heart ached to take her far away from here, away from the prying eyes of the Easy men, where no officer would intrude on their shared moment.

"Thank you," she smiled, hers causing Joe to smile back. The men around them started to murmur, never before seeing Joe act so gentle with anyone before.

George pushed his way to stand next to the two, flashing a charming grin as he wrapped his arm around y/n's shoulders, earning a tense squeak from her and a glare from Toye.

"Well, if it ain't our favorite nurse! I thought that was you, y/n," Luz snickered, drawing her closer to his side.

Soon, some of the other guys got up and started to greet her, showing off their jump wings proudly.

"See, this here is a real man's pair of jump wings!" Skip said, earning a smack on the back of the head from Malarkey who said, "Every man has the same pair of jump wings, you moron." Penkala laughed in the background, wrapping an arm around his two best buddies.

Y/n's cheeks flushed at the attention, letting out a string of giggles before gasping slightly when she felt someone's arm snake around her waist. Joe had a gentle but firm grip on her, leading her to the middle of the room.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, holding one of her hands in his.

She averted her gaze to the pins on his uniform, "You already have me." He couldn't disagree, but it still made him flush like a boy. The two danced, ignoring the protests and groans from the other guys that clearly wanted to dance with her.

"We're off to North Carolina in the mornin'," Joe said, looking like he was starting to miss the girl in his arms already. "Where will you be?"

Y/n pressed her cheek against his chest as they danced slower, Joe bringing a supportive palm to the small of her back, thumb rubbing small circles on the fabric of her uniform. She was silent at first but eventually gave him an answer.

"The same place, at least, that's what I've heard so far," she murmured, her grip on his hand subconsciously growing tighter. He squeezed her hand back in a reassuring manner, letting her know that he heard her and he was there.

"A little more time together then," he said, placing his chin on top of her head. They stop moving, y/n moving her head back just enough to look into Joe's eyes. Ask anyone in the room and they'd say the two were beginning to be more than they'd like to admit, but that's not something they wanted to talk about it just yet.

"I'll see you there, Joe," she whispered, fingers slipping from his grasp as she moved back, a sudden chill passing over Joe as her warmth retreated from him. It nearly split their hearts in two, but they did what had to be done.

— ♡

Camp Mackall, N.C.

Easy Company had been training nonstop for the upcoming invasion, pouring out blood, sweat, and tears as Captain Sobel made continuous mistakes because he couldn't read the damn map. It pissed Joe off to no end, but alas, Sobel was their CO, so it wasn't like they could do anything about it for the time being.

Y/n had been working tirelessly, continuing to train as a nurse while also helping the men whenever they sustained a reckless injury. Time was nearing for them to pack up and go again, this time to a place where y/n couldn't follow. Both she and Joe dreaded the day to come, lingering glances holding more weight than words could at the moment.

As y/n stood around the aid station taking inventory, she heard someone clear their throat, instantly turning around and expecting to see Joe. When she was met with Doc Roe standing there, holding his helmet sheepishly, she was surprised but offered him a warm smile.

"Roe, it's good to see you," she said, putting down her clipboard.

Roe nodded politely, "It's good to see you too, Miss y/n. I came to say goodbye before we leave." He shuffled around, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. Y/n could recognize the tone of his voice, taking a few steps closer to him and placing a gentle hand on his arm.

"It was nice training with you, Eugene. You be careful out there, alright?" she said, enveloping him in her embrace, Roe instantly melting against her.

"I will," he whispered, sniffling quietly.

Y/n reached into her apron and pulled something out, holding it in her palm, "Let me see your hand."

Roe pulled back, extending his right hand to her, watching as she placed the object in his palm. It was a beautiful pair of scissors, tiny, intricate details etched in the bows and shanks. He felt her wipe away a stray tear, pulling her back into his arms to hug her once more.

"For the world's best medic," she said quietly, rubbing his back.

"For the world's best nurse," Roe said back, placing a kiss to the top of her head.

Two close friends in the same field, separated by the uncertainty of departure and war.

— ♡

In the dead of night, y/n found Joe smoking a cigarette as he leaned against the outside of his quarters. She approached him quietly, the leaves crunching underneath her Mary Jane heels, causing him to look up.

He took one last drag of his cigarette before throwing it on the ground and putting it out with his boot. His arms reached out for her, and she found herself in them immediately. Words bubbled up in her throat and threatened to spill out, but they only came out as a soft sob.

Joe shushed her softly, caressing the top of her head as he held her close, looking to the stars as he wondered if and when he'd get to hold her like this again.

"I know, sweetheart," he said, twirling a strand of his hair around his finger.

Y/n muffled her shaky voice in his chest, "I'm gonna miss you."

Joe's heart cracked into a million pieces, each piece containing something he adored about her. He wanted to stay in the States; to bring her home to Pennsylvania so she could meet his parents— his mother would love her dearly— and to hold her while the war raged on elsewhere. The only battle that mattered in this moment was the one between his duty and his darling.

"Don't go, they have enough soldiers to fight," her voice wavered, his shirt becoming damp with tears.

Joe sucked in a trembling breath, clutching her tighter, but carefully, as if she was made of porcelain, "I have to, y'know I have to, angel. But I'm gonna come back home to you, I promise."

He was teary-eyed too now, gritting his teeth to hold back broken sobs as he buried his face in her hair, "I don't wanna leave my girl."

Y/n lifted her head to look at him, eyes rimmed red and cheeks wet with tears, "I'm your girl?" She spoke the question so softly into the air, Joe could hardly hear it, but he did. And that was what made his resolve crumble, a cry escaping his lips as he nodded.

"You're my girl. You've been my girl since the day we shared that cab together," he mumbled, kissing her crown.

After they managed to calm down, now slumped on the ground and against the wall, y/n curled up on his side and Joe's arms around her, they were silent for a bit. They would have to part soon before anyone saw them together so intimately, but for the time being, it was their safe sanctuary while the crickets chirped around them.

"Remember when I went out one weekend back in Georgia?" y/n muttered, fingers tracing lazy patterns on Joe's arm.

Joe hummed, "Yeah, why?"

"I got you something, I just didn't know when to give it to you," she admitted, fishing two things from her apron. She placed one in Joe's hand, Joe lifting it up to his eye level.

It was a beautiful silver lighter with a Bible verse engraved on the front, which read:

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.

Joshua 1:9

"I know you're a devout Catholic," y/n whispered, her fingers tracing over the letters on his dog tags. "I figured it would be a moment of peace every time you lit a cigarette."

Joe held the lighter tightly, tilting her chin up to kiss her forehead, "It's perfect, angel, thank you." He tucked it into his breast pocket where he kept all his cigarettes.

"This is for you, too. For good luck," y/n said, placing a gold locket in his palm next.

Joe's eyes widened, thumbs gently prying open the locket. Inside was a beautiful picture of y/n smiling, Joe's heart leaping from his chest. He was quick to put it around his neck, hiding it underneath his shirt for safe keeping.

"It's beautiful," he whispered, "I'll send you somethin' from Europe, hon'."

She nodded because she trusted him, but she was scared all the same. Joe was scared too, afraid to leave his promises broken and empty, afraid to leave his one and only. She smoothed her lips against the underside of his jaw, earning a soft exhale from him as his hands tangled in her hair.

For now, this was enough, something to hold onto when all seemed hopeless.

— ♡

"Aw, bring it in!" Luz chuckled, drawing y/n into a crushing hug as Easy Company boarded the train headed to New York.

"See you, Luz. Don't annoy Joe too much," y/n smiled, patting his back.

Soon, she hugged every man in the company, some longer than others, and some definitely more emotional. Sergeant Lipton smiled as he approached her, giving her a tender hug, "Take care of yourself, kid."

"I'm not a kid," she protested. "I'm a fully capable nurse now!"

Lipton's shoulders shrugged up and down as he laughed, "That you are, but you'll always be our little girl in here." He placed a palm on his chest where his heart is, vision blurring just a bit.

She gave Lipton a sad smile, patting his hand and watching him go to the other officers with a heavy heart.

Joe was one of the last men to board the train, halfway inside the door before he dropped his bag, running to lift y/n into his arms, spinning her in a circle. He set her down, pressing his forehead against hers as he sighed, "I'm gonna miss you so goddamn much."

"I'll wait for you, Joe. Come back home to me," she spoke against his skin, kissing his cheek softly.

Joe returned the kiss to hers, pulling back when he heard the guys shouting for him to get on board before they left without him. Shit, if the guilt wouldn't kill him, he'd let the train pass him by so he could stay with his beloved.

He smiled at her before hopping onto the train, moving so he stood in front of one of the open windows, his buddies crowding around him. Y/n looked around, eyes widening as she heard the train's whistle signaling their departure. She quickly got an attendant's attention, kicking off her heels.

"Can you lift me up to that window right there?" she said frantically, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

The attendant, who's gone through this more times than he could count, smiled and nodded, "Up you go, girl, onto my shoulder— there you go."

She was lifted onto one of the attendant's shoulders, Joe reaching out to steady her with a laugh in disbelief, "What are ya doin', sweetheart?"

"This," she said, holding his face in both of her hands as she kissed him, lipstick-coated lips pressed against his, Joe cupping the back of her head to bring her closer. All the men inside the train cheered and whistled for the two. The kiss felt like it lasted forever, but it was only a second before they had to part, the attendant setting y/n down to her feet.

The train started to move slowly, and she ran as it picked up speed. Joe leaned out of the window, watching her struggle to keep up, tears filling his eyes.

"Will you write me?" she called out, breathless but determined.

"Like it's the last thing I'll ever do!" he shouted back, watching her figure get smaller and smaller as the train reached a speed she could no longer keep up with.

"I love you, Joseph John Toye!"

It was faint, but he could hear her scream it in the distance, his heart panging with longing. He leaned back in his seat, reaching into his uniform to pull out the locket around his neck. He held onto it tightly, letting out a quiet sob as the men around him placed supportive hands on his shoulders and back.

"That's a girl worth fightin' for, Joe," Guarnere said.

"So, ya best make it home, huh?" George added, everyone agreeing with him.

Joe let out a sad laugh, opening the locket to see her beautiful face once more, "I love you, too, y/n y/l/n."

[hottpinkpenguin]

Easy Company HCs: Coming Home To You After the War

A/n: ahhhh my first time writing for a new fandom always makes me nervous. I'm rewatching BoB for probably the 5th or 6th time and just felt compelled to start writing for some of these incredible characters. please note all writings are based solely on the BoB TV characters and not the actual veterans. Let me know if you want any other BoB HC's or oneshots!

*Please refer to each character for warnings*

Dick Winters Warnings: angsty Major Winters, vague references to PTSD/war trauma

Dick is standing outside on the deck of the ship before the sun is up on the day they’re due into port. He can’t stop looking towards the horizon, waiting for the shoreline to swim into view.

He’s melancholy, thoughtful. Reflects on all he’s seen in the war. He feels different than how he was when he left almost 3 years ago. He thinks about all the men he left behind in Normandy, in Foy, in Bastogne, in Holland, in Hagenau, in Germany. And he looks around at the men whose bodies are coming home, but who lost pieces of themselves in foxholes, in the bombed out streets of Europe, on the beaches. 

He also finds himself wondering what it’s been like for you. He hasn’t thought about that much, hasn’t let himself think on it too hard. He feels ashamed that he never asked much in his letters about how you were. He knows it was to protect himself. If he’d asked, and if you’d been honest and told him about the rationing, the fear, how many of your friends were losing their brothers, husbands, and lovers overseas, the suicides of the men who couldn’t go… well, Dick knew he’d have been distracted. And distracted leaders got men killed. So Dick had sealed off his thoughts on that account. He knew it was the right choice. But now, he doubted. 

So as the ship pulls into port, he’s sad in a broken way. Like the war has finally caught up with him. And he’s terrified, suddenly. How is he going to see you like this? What are you going to see in him when you finally do? More importantly, what are you not going to see? 

He lets all of his men debark before him. Partially because that’s what a good officer does, but partially to try and collect himself. 

You know what to expect. You know Dick Winters isn’t going to really stop fighting the war until he sees every last man in Easy Company off that ship and safely home. So you wait. You’ve waited this long, after all. You can wait another thirty minutes.

When you finally see him in the thinning crowd, you call out his name and break into a beaming smile. He’s here, he’s home. He’s safe. 

As soon as he sees you, the ice in his veins thaws. The sun is warm on his skin, he’s surrounded by clean sea air far from the burnt out husk of Europe, and you’re there. You’re smiling at him. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen something so singularly beautiful.

He strives over to you, taking his cap off as he approaches. His stomach is flipping like a schoolboy and he couldn’t keep the smile from his face if he had an entire firing squad of Krauts in front of him. 

You run the last few dozen paces into his arms. He catches you easily, spinning you around with a long, languid sigh of contentment. Your laughter is like a peeling bell in his ear. 

Richard, how dare you make me wait? you tease him. 

He can’t find any words except to smile at you, looking into your eyes, memorizing your smile, reacquainting himself with the dusting of freckles across your nose, the scent of your shampoo, basking in the feeling of you in his arms. He smiles, then laughs. Your hands frame his face and suddenly he’s kissing you. 

Dick Winters’ mind goes blissfully blank. The harsh edges of all his worries, his responsibilities, the burden of leading a company of men and ordering some of them to their deaths. It’s all soft now. There’s just you. You and that piece of land he’s been dreaming about.

Lewis Nixon Warnings: alcohol abuse, war-time violence, detailed reference to parental suicide

Lewis Nixon came back from the front with an exorbitant amount of contraband, shadows in the back of his eyes, and a terrible drinking habit. You had no idea what to do with any of it.

Two months after his return and you found yourself staring out across a sea of boxes piled haphazardly in the foyer of the summer home Lew had bought you for your six-month wedding anniversary. Your home had never been more crowded, and yet you’d never felt so lonely. 

You wiped the damp tea towel you’d soaked in the kitchen sink against the back of your neck in a vain attempt to keep the heat at bay. 

Lew! you called up to him, although you knew he wouldn’t answer. A brief glance at the clock - 2:15 pm - told you as much. Since coming back, Lew hadn’t woken up before 3:00 pm and you’d yet to share a goodnight kiss with him because he was liable to stay out until sunrise. Doing what, you’d rather not know. 

With a weighty sigh, you decided you might as well pick a box and get started. Otherwise, this ridiculous maze of illegally shipped stolen goods would just go to rot in your foyer. And with your in-laws due in next month to visit your shell of a husband, you’d better try to clean up the mess. 

You chose the box closest to you. It came up to your waist. As you ripped into it, you realized it was incredibly heavy, and you heard the unmistakable tinkling of glass on glass. You sliced the tape open with the boxcutter, marveling at how sharply the instrument cut into the flesh of the tape and cardboard. One of the first few nights after arriving back home, Lew had managed to stay at home and get drunk rather than do so out on the town. Somewhere between bottle three and four of the Chateau Rhone that you’d served at the reception, Lew had started to talk. Once he’d started, he hadn’t seemed willing to stop, as if he had one chance to pour out all the misery and regret and terror he’d accumulated in Europe. You remembered that at one point - one of his more lucid memories, when the slur in his words was light enough for you to understand him - he’d told you that he had seen a whole platoon of men shredded to ribbons by a Kraut tank. He’d recounted in excruciating detail how one of their fingers had landed on him, the blood and sinew drying on his uniform like an adhesive, and he hadn’t noticed it until the next day. You’d never seen anything quite so distasteful or violent in your life, but you imagined that it might be something like watching someone get sliced apart the way your boxcutter glided through tape.

With a shiver, you sheathed the blade and set the boxcutter aside to rip into the contents of the box. Tipping the heavy box sideways a bit, you spooned out the top layer of packing peanuts to reveal a familiar sight. Four corked bottles of wine sat at the top of the box. You stopped, staring down at the wine in the box in disbelief. This was the precious contraband that Lewis had spent thousands on to smuggle out of Europe? Fucking wine?

Your temper flamed to life with a vengeance. You pushed the heavy box over, letting loose a scream of frustration as you did. One of the bottles shattered as the box tipped over, a puddle of red wine staining the white marble floor. Once again, your mind flashed back to the war. Not to Lew’s memories, but your own. To the black-and-white films you’d seen in the theaters, to the newspaper clippings, to the reports that had come out of Germany about the death camps and the killing fields and the brutality of the war, to the letters your brother had written to you before his death at St. Vith. You thought of all the men you’d known who hadn’t come home - your brother Johnny, your childhood neighbor Tim Viens, your cousins Luis and Giovanni, the florist’s son from your hometown, your girl friend Jill’s fiance… 

Your head was spinning and your blood was boiling as you summited the stairs to the darkened upstairs two at a time. When you flung open the door to Lew’s study where he’d taken to sleeping, you were seeing black at the edges of your vision.

Lewis fucking Nixon, you better wake the fuck up or so help me God I will strangle you in your sleep!

The words flew off your tongue faster than you knew what to do with. You’d never had a foul mouth, and you’d certainly never threatened your husband before. Despite his obvious hangover, he snapped to wakefulness faster than you’d expected him to. He regarded you with a wary, tired expression, and you wondered for a half second if he was going to ask you to make good on your threat. 

Saints above woman, what is it? he demanded, reaching around the graveyard of beer and wine bottles strewn about the floor next to him. You noticed a particularly foul smell in the room at the same time you noticed the stain of vomit caked on one of the pillows he’d propped under his head. 

The sight of your husband fumbling around for another drink at 2:30 in the afternoon with vomit caked on his cheek did something to you. You weren’t sure if the sight broke you or if it snapped you into form. Whatever it did, it took the wind out of the hateful words that had been boiling in your gut. You snapped your mouth shut as you became acutely aware that you had nothing left to say to him. You’d said it all already. You’d cried, threatened, screamed, pleaded, reasoned, demanded, and done just about everything you could think of in your power to bring Lewis Nixon back to something resembling sense. You weren’t without feeling - you knew that he wasn’t the only man who hadn’t fully come back from the front. Memories of your father’s glassy, empty-looking eyes flicked in your mind like a silent movie. Your father never really left the trenches, your mother used to say by way of explanation and apology. Some men just can’t come home after a war like that. 

The last memory you have of your father was the sight of him leaned back in his chair, his head bent away from his neck at an unnatural angle, with a ghoulish bloodstain on his chest from the hole his pistol had left where he’d fired it under his chin and up into his skull. You’d found him like that when you were just six years old. At almost twenty six now, you were resolved never to see someone you love waste away like that again. Yet here you were, watching someone who’d once been your brash, fun-loving, hot-headed husband fade away like a ghost.

As Lew braced for what he felt sure was going to be a proper dressing down, you felt yourself deflate like a punctured balloon. Something final and irrevocable had happened in those few moments since you’d come running up the stairs, and you knew deep in your bones that there was no going back. 

I’m leaving. 

It was all you could say. Lewis looked over at you through slitted eyes, stifling down an acidic belch as he tried to figure out your angle. Usually your arguments started with much more heat than this, but he wasn’t sober enough to hear the goodbye in your tone. 

After a few agonizing moments, he grunted at you by way of dismissal. Get me some Vat 69, while you’re out. Vat 69 was the only thing that Lewis Nixon had asked from you since he’d gotten back to the States. 

You didn’t have the heart to answer him, so you just turned on your heel, letting the boxcutter that you hadn’t even realized you’d been gripping like a vice slide out of your hand and land with a thump on the carpet. 

You descended the stairs with a strange buzzing in your head. You wondered if you should pack something, although you realized that all you really wanted to was to get as far away from the time bomb that was Lewis Nixon as fast as you possibly could. You called your mother from the kitchen phone. She didn’t need to hear you say the words to know what had happened. Come on home honey,  she said gently. I’ll make your favorite key lime pie. The kind and simple gesture brought tears to your eyes.

After a few minutes to gather the essentials - your wallet, your pearls, your father’s WWI medals - you thought of one more phone call to make. A parting kindness, you thought, as you sifted through the Rolodex you kept next to the phone until you found the card you wanted. 

The phone rang twice before a voice you knew well picked up. 

Hello? Dick, it’s me, it’s y/n Nixon. Listen, you better come get Lew. He’s… he’s not well. And I’m leaving. 

You didn’t wait for a reply before you clicked the receiver. If there was any saving of Lewis Nixon now, it wouldn’t be by you. 

With one final glance at the house and the sad trove of memories it contained, you closed the door on your past and left, hoping that both you and Lew would find some corner of peace to spend the rest of your days. 

Ronald Speirs Warnings: smut, sweet baby boy Speirs

Ron doesn’t even tell you that he’s coming home. You know it’ll be soon, and you’re waiting for a letter. None come. Years of waiting, years of him faithfully writing, years of dreaming and praying for this day. Now? Radio silence. 

So when this man shows up at your door, his duty bag in one hand and his hat in the other, the first thing you can do is scream at him. 

Ronald fucking Speirs! You didn’t fucking write me, I thought you were dead or lost or just done with me! Why didn’t you tell me! You fucking bastard, you utter fucking bastard! 

You’re hitting him and screaming and tears are everywhere. Ron just smiles. You’re precisely how he remembers you. Better even. 

He wraps you up in a hug, so tight that you can’t move. You’re still struggling, wiggling and sobbing into his shirt, trying to beat your fists against him. 

When you feel him kiss the top of your head, it all just melts. Your knees buckle and instead of beating on him you’re clinging to him. Realization hits you in waves. Ron is home. Those are Ron’s arms around you. Ron’s voice murmuring into your ear. Ron’s breath on your forehead. 

When you finally look up to him - eyes bloodshot, nose running, mascara streaking, cheeks tear stained and red - Ron smiles down at you. My beautiful girl, he says softly before catching your lips in a kiss. Everything breaks loose in that kiss. You practically want to crawl into his mouth. It’s all need: lips devouring each other, hands grabbing and nails dragging, tongues invading each other. Ron moans and you’re done, you’re a mess. 

He knows. He pushes you across the doorway, his hat and duty bag long forgotten on the porch, lifts you up and carries you to the nearest couch, undressing on the way. He rips your blouse, knocks over one of your side tables when he kicks off his shoe, and almost drops you to let you rip off his belt. 

Ron’s home to you when he slams inside of you. Your thoughts disintegrate as the two of you collide together, alternating between frenzied ferocious fucking and softer sweeter sensuality as lust, love, longing and whatever lives between those things rips open the walls you’d both built up around your hearts. 

But Ron isn’t home until after, long after, hours even. The house is trashed, clothes and pillows and furniture disheveled and everywhere. You’re both in bed, exhausted from countless rounds of tangling, with dawn threatening. You’re asleep, and Ron’s watching you dream. There’s a small crease between your eyebrows, and you’re muttering. You look troubled; and he wonders if he should wake you. He can’t stand the sight of you in anything resembling pain. But then, suddenly, you roll towards him, your head settling on his chest and one of your legs slung over his. 

Your face relaxes. You nuzzle into him. You sigh, a gentle smile on your lips. The crease is gone, your face smooth and peaceful. 

He marvels. His head tips back against the headboard, looking down at you in awe as a distinct wave of content washes over and through him.

Ronald Speirs is finally home.

Carwood Lipton Warnings: just Lip and his perpetual angel-status <3

Lip is standing with the throng of men on the deck, watching as they pull into port. The crowd below is cheering and waving American flags, popping off champagne, and the women are waving handkerchiefs. There’s a band somewhere playing patriotic songs and jaunty marches. Home has never looked so good.

‘Ey, Lip, I think I see your girl

It’s Malarkey who spies her - why and how he picked her out so easily, Lip didn't rightfully know nor want to know. But Malarkey was right, there she was.

White ribbons in her hair, white dress on, white handkerchief waving. She’s craning over the other sweethearts and mothers and fathers, eyes combing the deck of the ship. Her expression - impatient longing - snaps Lip in two. How the hell did he ever leave that girl halfway across the world?

Carwood?! Carwood Lipton?! 

He can’t hear her, but he sees her lips moving and he knows that she’s calling out his name. He doubts that any of the deck goers are having luck finding their men that way. The ship is alive with soldiers and airmen buzzing with excitement, calling out to the shore and cheering. The dock is no less vibrant, so the entire place is drowning in the sounds of joy.

Lip stares at her, unwilling to lose sight of her ever again. He vaguely registers the ship jolting to a halt at its berth, the enormous horn announcing the official arrival and, for all the men on board, the uproarious end to the war from Hell. Lip exchanges hugs, slaps on the back, firm handshakes with the men of Easy. It’s strange to have so many painful goodbyes at the same time as a long-awaited hello, but Lip knows he’ll see these men again. He can’t imagine life without them, just like he can’t imagine living without her.

The crowd of soldiers and airmen begins to move, a mass of jumbled emotions with a healthy sprinkling of joy. He watches as the first few men off the ship are swept up into the awaiting crowd as they step off the planks. He can still see her, a beacon of white. An angel, he realizes. 

He shuffles forward with the rest of the disembarking ranks. The process is painfully slow, and he’s not close enough to call out to her yet. He tries to catch her eye with a few waves, but he can only imagine how many waving hands and beaming faces she can see at once. She’s almost passed him on the dock, and Lip feels himself losing patience with the slowness of the men around him. He contemplates yelling at the men to keep it moving or don’t stand at the end of the ramp, but he doesn’t. He can’t bear to ruin a moment of this, for anyone. 

Suddenly, she sees him. Her hands fly to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. That handkerchief blots at her face. She’s gone quiet; just staring at him, waiting. He waves at her, swallowing down the tears threatening in his eyes. She waves back, unsure whether to laugh or cry, so she ends up doing both. Once again, Lip wonders how he’d ever left her. He realizes he’ll never be able to again. He’s stuck to her like glue now, it can’t be helped. And he’s got his eye on a ring. He’ll buy it tomorrow, he decides. Maybe even today, if he can find a jeweler. No more wasted time.  

The wait is agonizing. Every few minutes, she waves at him again, as if afraid that he’ll disappear like a ghost. He can’t stop smiling at her. He doesn’t notice, but the Easy men all softly agree that they’ve never seen this Lip before. A smile reserved all for her.

He steps off the ramp and she’s there, pushed through the crowd. He envelopes her in his arms as she peppers his face and neck with kisses. Soggy ones, from the tears. His or hers, anybody’s guess. She keeps repeating his name like a prayer and a plea. He holds her as she comes undone in his arms, body-wracking sobs and her head buried in his neck. He tells her it’s alright, I’m home and it makes her squeal with delight. Then they’re both laughing. He carries her a bit, not trusting her legs quite yet, and honestly unsure if he trusts himself to walk without her weight in his arms holding him to Earth. She babbles, he listens, she asks something, he talks. It’s easy - so easy - and Carwood Lipton feels himself stepping back into himself after so many years of being Lip and First Sergeant. 

Her hand in his, they walk the streets of this strange town that neither of them are from, but yet somehow always find themselves feeling right at home. He has to squeeze her hand every once in a while to remind himself that she’s real, and he’s really here, and the war is behind him. All day and late into the evening, Lipton and his girl stroll together, two friends, two lovers, one very happy ending. 

Buck Compton Warnings: cursing, references to alcohol abuse

No one’s there at the train depot when Buck gets home. His mother is tied up taking care of his baby sister and her new baby, sick with colic, and his dad is too frail to make the forty-minute trip by car to the station. And you’re done with him, as of Christmas time. 

Some homecoming.

He wanders through the town’s sleepy Main Street, killing time before his brother-in-law’s shift ends at the munitions factory and he can pick Buck up. It’s a hot day, sweat runs down his back. It reminds him of Toccoa. He chuckles darkly, grateful that he’s not running up Currahee with Sobel’s sour puss hot on his heels. He’s grateful for a moment, but then he wonders if maybe those were the best days of his life, and he just didn’t know it. So far, the end of the war hasn’t brought much happiness his way. Maybe the best is behind him already. 

He stops for a root beer float at the local soda counter. He brought you here for the first date. He still remembered that your lips tasted like strawberry milkshake later when he’d parked his truck in front of an empty cornfield and kissed you until he was dizzy. He knows he’ll never be able to order a strawberry milkshake again.  

A couple of the old men sitting in the window side booths nod at him, one even pays for his tab. Buck thanks them but makes no move to engage in conversation. He’s not gloomy, exactly. Just lonely. He thinks about Joe Toye and Bill Guarnere, about the marrow-deep cold of Bastogne, and about just how far away he feels from the taste of strawberry on your tongue. Despite the scorching summer heat, he suppresses a shiver. 

Buck’s sitting on a bench in front of the depot when his brother-in-law pulls up. 

Hey Buck! Welcome home, buddy.

Thanks, Dickie.

His sister’s husband has a noticeable limp, one of his legs visibly wasted and bent at an unnatural angle from the knee down. Bike accident when he was six, kept him out of the war. From his sisters letters, Buck knows that Dickie’s been hitting the bottle hard after he got 4F’ed and told under no uncertain terms that he won’t fight for Uncle Sam. Buck can see the strain in Dickie’s smile, the dark bags under his eyes and the faint stain of gray at his temples. Buck feels about three decades older than when he left home, but Dickie looks it. 

The ride home is quiet. Buck asks after his sister, Dickie asks after the war. Neither of them really listen to the answers. 

When Dickie cuts the engine off in front of Buck’s parents’ place, the porch light is on and there’s a lamp in the front room window, shining merrily. Buck sighs deeply. He’d expected to come home to you, a little apartment somewhere. He’d planned on picking up his life from there, but instead he’s here, looking at a place he calls home without feeling at home. He thinks he might prefer a cot in Toccoa, or a hot cot on a transport ship, or maybe even a foxhole. 

Aight Buck, you take it easy. I’ll see you ‘round. Make sure you stop in and see Kitty soon, she’s dying to see ya.

Sure, Dickie. Thanks for the lift. 

The sun is setting fast behind the mountains. Cicadas are beginning to strum and the fireflies dance in the fields gone farrow behind the house. Buck climbs up the front steps, his duty bag slung over one shoulder. 

Buck?

He freezes where he is, hand outstretched towards the doorknob. It can’t be… can it?

He hears the creak of the swing from the darkened corner of the porch as you stand up. 

Welcome home, Buck.

It is you. Buck is still frozen, his upper lip beginning to tremble. He wished it were darker, wished the damn light was off so you wouldn’t have to see him like this. He feels the boards vibrate as you step towards him, hesitating at his side.

I’m sorry, Buck. I… I made a mistake…

A tear slips out. He swipes at it angrily. What the hell is he crying for? he wonders. 

It’s just that Louise told me she read in a magazine that it’s harder for the men sometimes if they’re worried about someone back home and in your letters you were just always asking about me and how I was and what I was doing and I just knew that you were going through it, Buck, you know, I read the news and I knew you were right on the front lines and I started thinking about you being out there and distracted and what would happen if you lost your focus at the wrong time and you got shot or you got hit by a grenade or a sniper and I thought about losing you, Buck, and I just couldn’t, I couldn’t lose you, and I started to think maybe I needed to make it easier on you and I wrote you that awful letter and it was terrible Buck it was so bad and I hated writing it and I hated sending it but I convinced myself I had to and-

Buck silenced you by pressing his lips to yours mid-sentence. Whatever other explanations and apologies you had died in your mouth with a soft whimper, and suddenly your hands were traveling up his arms and tickling the base of his neck and you were sighing like you hadn’t really exhaled in months. Buck swallowed it up, kissing you deeply and gently. He didn’t know how to say that he didn’t care about all that, that all he wanted was you with him. The rest would work itself out. Buck knew from the war that if you surrounded yourself with good people, then you could get through anything. 

He laughed when he tasted the strawberry milkshake on your lips. Smiling against your mouth, he broke the kiss and held you in his arms, his hands at the small of your back. 

Why are you laughing you ask incredulously. Did you hear what I said? aren’t you mad? You hadn’t expected this reaction. In fact, you’d prepared yourself for Buck to be so furious that he wouldn’t even speak with you. It was less than half of what you felt you deserved. 

Buck just shook his head, smiling to himself at a private joke. You wondered if he was laughing at how easily you fell for that kiss before he told you to take a hike and disappeared from your life forever. 

Mad? He sounds incredulous, like that’s the most ridiculous question anyone’s ever asked him. 

Yeah, Buck. I mean… I know I broke your heart.

He doesn’t deny it, just nods simply and looks deep into your eyes.

Don’t leave me again, darlin’, and I’ll consider it even.

You can’t reply because his lips are on yours again. All you can do is smile as you kiss your apology into Buck’s mouth until the sunset has faded and his dad calls out to the two of you to come inside already!

Bull Randleman Warnings: angst (you have been warned!!)

Something strange happened to Bull in the convent at Foy. He hadn’t expected it. But suddenly, there you were. Sitting in the back of his mind like an itch he just couldn’t scratch. His third grade crush from Ms. Wheeler’s class. And his eighth grade crush. And his prom date. 

Bull grew up in a small town, and it had only gotten smaller to him since he’d left. Sometimes in quieter moments he’d wondered if he’d ever be able to go back home. He’d seen a lot of the world - granted, most of it with the threat of German artillery at his back - but still. His hometown felt so far away and so small that he couldn’t imagine fitting the size of his memories back there. 

And yet, sitting there in the dim candlelight of that convent, listening to those angelic voices, that tiny podunk town was all he could think of. Why couldn’t he remember the name of that street, the one with the post office on it? And what was the name of those neighbors with the herd of basset hounds? He couldn’t recall what kind of flowers his Ma planted in front of the house, facing due east. Bull realized that he was forgetting home, and it opened a gaping wound in his heart.

One thing he did remember clearly was you. He hadn’t seen you in a long time, maybe not for months before he’d signed up for the 101st. You’d been working at the florist right off 1st Street the last he’d heard. Why he hadn’t looked in on you after high school, he couldn’t say. He’d been sweet on you back then, puppy love head-over-heels type stuff. You were his first kiss, his first date, his first of just about everything. Including his first love.

Somewhere along the way, Bull had gotten the hare-brained idea that he’d outgrown you. He’d stopped calling, stopped asking you out to the movies or to the diner. He remembered how he’d seen you out one night, his arm slung over some other girl that his buddy had set him up with. He remembered the way you’d stared with your lip shaking, your eyes welling with tears, before you’d practically run off into the Sears department store. Bull knew damn well you couldn’t afford anything in Sears; all of the money you’d ever made working as an English tutor and a nanny went to taking care of your eleven foster siblings. He knew you ran in there just to get away from him. At the time, he’d laughed about it. He’d told himself you’d be fine, you’d grow up eventually and get over it. He told himself that’s exactly what he’d done - grown up - but now he realized quite the opposite. He’d been intimidated by how much he’d liked you, how much he’d thought about you and worried after you and how scared he’d been when he’d realized that he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed you anymore. You with your hand-me-down dresses and your sweet, shy smile and your head always in the clouds of a romance novel. His buddies had commented on it, and suddenly Bull had felt jealous, insecure even. He’d hated it, and he’d run from it. 

But that night in Foy, you were the only place his mind could land. You were all he thought of. And he’d promised himself that if he somehow managed to walk out of hell at the end of the war, that he’d ask you out again. Who knew what you were up to now. He thought he remembered his Ma make an off-hand comment that you’d started working at the hospital in the next town over, but he couldn’t be sure. But Bull knew you’d be back in that small town, probably just as sweet as ever. And if you gave him another chance, he’d never let you go again.

Three days after stepping foot back in the States, and Bill was standing outside your house in his Army dress uniform, a bouquet of orange lilies in his hands. He wondered if you’d remember that he’d gotten you those same flowers for your prom corsage. They’d stood out against the baby pink of your dress that you’d borrowed from your cousin. Every time Bull saw a sunset or a flower bed, he thought of you. In fact, there wasn’t much that Bull saw these days that didn’t make him think of you.

He knocked three times sharply on the door. Your house looked just the same as ever: the front porch sagged in the middle, the curtains drawn and stained, the paint peeling. There was a ruckus inside, and what sounded to be about a dozen kids all screamed out “DOOR!” 

A severe woman with dark gray hair slicked back into a tight bun answered. Her mouth was a thin, straight gash and her eyes narrowed in something between distaste and disbelief. She glanced down at the flowers in Bull’s hands and at the sharp, crisply ironed lines of his uniform.

Mother Beatrice, Bull said with a slight bow. Not sure if you remember me, ma’am, but I-

I remember you. Randelman, right? You here for the girl? 

Your foster mother looked older but her manner was as cold and loveless as ever. She never used names for the children she took in - just called them by various impersonal monikers. For some reason, yours had always been “the girl”. Bull wasn’t the only one who’d overlooked you.  

He nodded, thinking that if Easy had Mother Beatrice in their ranks then Germany might have fallen about a year earlier. He’d have to be sure to tell you that. He was certain you would laugh.

I wondered if anyone would come Mother Beatrice commented as she shut the door behind her, muffling the sounds of screeching children. She walked down the front porch steps and turned towards the back of the old farmhouse without a backwards glance. Bull followed, his brow furrowing slightly at her cryptic comment. He figured you might have had a few pen pals on the front, some girls would do that sort of thing, write to strangers to try and keep their spirits up. He’d heard that some of the men had made a point to look in on their pen pals when they’d gotten back home. Maybe that’s what she meant.

She’s back here? Bull asked, taking in the sight of the rundown farmhouse-turned-orphanage and its weedy lawn. As long as he’d known you, he’d never known you to linger here. Too loud, no privacy you’d always told him. Bull usually found you in the library or a park bench. Somewhere quiet. 

Mother Beatrice nodded, shooting him a strangely exasperated look. Course she is, where else would she go? The girl doesn’t have any other home.

Bull chewed his lip thoughtfully. He supposed that was true. Maybe things had changed. 

Mother Beatrice led him around the backside of the dingy farmhouse, past a rundown chicken coop with a few mangy looking birds pecking at the dirt. There was a dilapidated stable off in the distance with one bony mare grazing on the tall grass and an overgrown vegetable garden. The tree line off in the distance looked ominously dark, like a line of guards sent to make sure the misery of this place didn’t spread.

Mother Beatrice stopped short, and Bull almost walked into her. There she is.

Bull looked around but didn’t see you. In addition to the forlorn horse, the garden and the coop, he noted a greenhouse missing more windows than it had and a towering oak tree reaching up for the sky as if running away from the unfortunate place it’d been planted. But no sign of you anywhere

Mother Beatrice looked at him intently for a moment, making Bull squirm in his boots, before sharply turning on her heel to leave. She called back to him at the base of the tree and vanished around the side of the house. 

Alone at last, Bull looked at the shadowy trunk but didn’t see anything. Must be around the backside, he reasoned. He started walking towards the tree, but a strange quiet settled over him. Suddenly, his collar felt too tight and his chest felt hollow. Something wasn’t right.

As he approached the tree, he began to make out what Mother Beatrice was referring to. He could hardly believe his eyes, and with each step forward he felt his feet grow heavier as if his boots were filled with lead. About ten paces from the trunk, he stopped, unable to go any closer. His shoulders sagged and he felt the bouquet slip out of his hands.

There you were, your name staring back at him from the headstone. 

Y/n Y/l/n October 11, 1924-January 9, 1945 Army Nurse Corps May she rest in the peace of the Lord

Bull wasn’t sure how long he stared at the stone. At your name. At the words Army Nurse Corps. Bull hadn’t known you were a nurse. He hadn’t remembered your birthday. He realized he’d been misspelling your last name this whole time.

Bull stood and stared until the light was almost gone from the sky. The sound of Mother Beatrice ringing a bell and calling out dinner! from the front porch jarred him out of his reverie. He hastily wiped the tears that had long ago dried on his face, feeling out of place and like an unwelcome intruder. 

He left without saying goodbye. He did manage to tilt the bouquet against your headstone, and run his fingers over the cold edges of your name cut into the marble. He didn’t feel entitled to much else. 

It wasn’t until he was home that night, deeper into a bottle of whiskey than a grieving man ought to be, when he realized something.

January 9th, 1945. The day you’d died. It was the same day he’d sat in that convent outside Foy, listening to that angelic choir, reminiscing about you and imagining a future that would never come to be.

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Still working on... Joseph Liebgott Doc Roe Maybe David Webster too? *let me know if you have any other requests

[r4diobaby]

personally

i think any BoB modern au should actually be late 90s / early 00s cus that’s when the show was made… and it adds a little spice to those modern aus

[archivallyminded]

Dating Easy Company in 2025 Would Be Like…

💼 Winters

You're dating the most competent man alive, which is both comforting and exhausting.

Brings you flowers, but they're always seasonal, hand-picked, and arranged by color palette. Almost irritatingly perfect.

Says “I’ll pick you up at 6” and actually shows up at 6.

Has never texted “lol” in his life. Doesn’t know what it stands for. Probably assumes it’s code.

Keeps a running list of your favorite meals in a tiny notebook he won’t admit exists.

Will never post you on social media. But everyone knows he's taken.

Pros: Chivalry. Boundaries.

Cons: Has absolutely said “I’m not mad, I’m disappointed” and meant it.

🥃 Nixon

You thought you were just flirting with the guy at the bar who had sad eyes and good jokes. You were wrong. You’re in love.

Takes you on 2 a.m. walks and reads obscure history books in bed.

Sends texts like: “Thinking about you. Also the fall of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.”

Lets you wear his robe. You never give it back. He pretends to mind.

Pros: Thoughtful chaos. Witty with his wounds. Cons: Has 8 types of whiskey and only one functional emotion.

😐 Speirs

You didn’t choose to date him. You made extended eye contact and now you're in a relationship.

You basically left the door open and he never left.

Sends exactly one text per day to check in on you: “?” Somehow it means “I love you.”

Buys you a knife “for protection.”

Also carries one for you.

"Isn't this illegal to carry?" "Not unless you show it to the police."

Overprotective, but lowkey about it, unless someone pushes it. Then he's across the room in two seconds.

Once picked you up from work and stared down your boss.

Doesn’t talk much, but will say follow you anywhere like he’s ordering a coffee.

Accidentally-on-purpose sends you a thirst trap photo then denies ever trying to send it.

Pros: Loyalty like gravity. Deadpan devotion. Surprisingly great cook. Cons: Communicates in Morse code and murder energy.

🐶 Lipton

You mention a bad day once and he brings you snacks, your favourite blanket, and gently worded life advice.

Your parents adore him. Your friends think he’s made of sunlight.

Keeps a shared calendar and color-codes it on his tablet so your schedules are lined up.

Once bought you a plant and then felt guilty when it died.

Posts you constantly. “Look how beautiful my partner is" despite the boys teasing him about it and you begging him not to. Pros: Stability. Affection. Emotional fluency. Cons: Nothing. He is the benchmark. Marry him.

📱 Luz

Your relationship is 50% memes, 50% -"Are we being ironic or deeply in love?”

You start as friends; you accidentally hook up when you're laughing so hard you fall on top of each other.

Insists on “us” selfies where he makes faces and you try not to laugh.

The only one who knows how to use Snapchat.

Texts you at 2 a.m. with things like: “What if birds aren’t real but you are? 😳”

Actually deeply observant. Knows when you’re down and distracts you on purpose.

Took you on a date to IKEA and turned it into a fake domestic fantasy in one of the demonstration rooms and with a stuffed animal as a fake baby. You almost cried before he tossed the stuffed shark back into the bin and accidentally hit a child.

Led to a chase through the Ikea demonstration rooms and several "HAVE YOU SEEN THESE PEOPLE" posters up around Ikea.

You now have to go to the Ikea two towns over in order to get anything because an overreactive parents wants to press charges.

Calls you “babe” and “General.” Both feel right.

Always fills up the car with gas. Pros: Chaos with a big heart. ADHD-coded love notes ("Officially diagnosed, bayyyybayyyyyy."), a rotating stock pile of increasingly more stupid and hilarious bumper stickers. Cons: You have no idea if he paid the electricity bill or not and you force him into automatic billing so you don't have a heart attack every month.

🐍 Toye

You’re dating a grumpy old soul in a 30-year-old body.

Will fight for you, with you, or instead of you. Pick your poison.

Acts annoyed when you kiss his cheek. Secretly lives for it.

Owns two hoodies. You steal both. He complains, but lets you keep them.

“I’m not soft,” he says, while tucking a blanket around you and kissing your forehead.

Pros: Ride or die. Secret cuddler. Will deck someone in your name.

Cons: Pretends Taylor Swift is overrated but knows all the words and has a favourite era ("Reputation, obviously.").

🦿 Guarnere

Calls you “babe,” “honey,” “doll,” and “sergeant,” all in one sentence.

Flirts like he’s in a black-and-white movie.

Picks you up and spins you around if you so much as smile.

Surprisingly romantic. Candlelit dinner in the garage with pizza? He delivered.

Definitely got into a physical altercation with someone who insulted you on Twitter.

Unironically loves mafia films.

1000 percent supports Luigi Mangione ("HE WAS THE BEST GUY AROUNDDDDD" "What about the murder?" "WHAT MURDAAAAH").

Pros: Energy. Heart. Loyalty.

Cons: Will 100% bring a speaker to the park and blast Sinatra. Lives for shitty Italian-American representation like your local community theatre's production of "Jersey Boys" where the Frankie Valli actor is ten times too old and can hardly hit the high notes.

🎧 Malarkey

The actual definition of a "dog boyfriend," but less of a "golden retriever" boyfriend and more of a springer spaniel.

Texts you “u up?” at 10 p.m. but it’s just to show you a playlist he made called “Songs That Remind Me of Ur Face" with a stupid smiley face attached.

Always down for a drive to nowhere with the windows down and sad music playing. Unironically loves Lana Del Rey.

Brings you snacks, coffee, and a rock he found that “looks kind of like a heart.”

Makes a full Spotify playlist for your first kiss. Shares it. Title: “holy crap i like you.”

Watches rom-coms and pretends it’s “for the memes.” He cries every time.

Favourite is "You've Got Mail."

Pros: Soft hands. Big hugs. Bigger feelings. Cons: Will make your entire relationship into a playlist and sob over it until you tell him to knock it off and force him to go on a "emotions walk."

💅 Perconte

You’ve never been exfoliated this emotionally in your life.

Shows his love by giving you a skincare routine and yelling if you don’t stick to it.

Buys matching water bottles. “Hydration is sexy, babe.”

Will literally throw down in Sephora if someone is rude to you.

Hates Sephora kids ("They always ruin the samples- no respect. Absolutely no respect.").

Ends up teaching the kids proper exfoliation after they mistake him for 28 and say "You look so good for your age."

Posts you on Instagram like: “Get yourself someone who makes your pores and heart glow.”

Surprises you with breakfast and a “face mask date.” He wears a stretchy headband. You fall harder.

Unironically loves Lululemon. Is more of a Lululemon Sephora girlie than any white girl you've ever met.

Pros: Skincare sugar daddy. Rides hard for you. Smells amazing.

Cons: Will judge your shampoo.

🥺 Babe Heffron

Human cinnamon roll. Cries if you look too pretty for too long.

Writes you little notes and leaves them in your bag like “You’re my favorite person.”

Nervous to hold your hand at first. Now does it constantly, like it’s oxygen. LOVES hand holding, even if it gets sweaty after a while and you have to shake your hand out.

Enjoys forehead kisses more than actual kisses.

Brings you flowers “just because.” Doesn’t realize you’re crying.

Asks if he can kiss you every single time. You say yes. Every single time.

Looks at you like you hung the moon. He means it.

Pros: Pure. Gentle. Hugs like home.

Cons: Cries during SPCA commercials.

🕯️ Doc Roe

Soft-spoken and emotionally confusing until one day he just… lays his soul at your feet. You die internally.

Carries your favourite snacks in his bag without telling you.

Touches your wrist to check your pulse like it’s a casual excuse to hold your hand. Your heart skips.

Won’t say “I love you” out loud for months, but he’ll pull you behind him when crossing the street.

ALWAYS walks on the outside near the cars.

One night he kisses you like he’s afraid the world might end. You realize he’s been in love with you since day one.

Pros: Quiet protector. Heals everything he touches.

Cons: Will not talk about his own feelings unless you really ask.

🗡️ Joe Liebgott

Says he doesn’t care about anything, but memorizes your coffee order by week two and brings it to your workplace.

Always swears when he compliments you — “Fuck- you look good."

Will snap at the world, but kiss you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear between blinks until you reassure him.

Calls you dumb affectionately. Tells you he’s the dumb one when your feelings get too quiet.

Acts like your hand in his is no big deal, but holds it like it’s keeping him here.

Gets loud with other people. Gets quiet with you.

You catch him staring at you during a dumb movie. He shrugs and says, “What? You’re the best part.”

One night, after a fight with another guy who was being rude to you, you hear him whisper, “I don’t know how to be good, but I do know how to love you.”

And he does.

Pros: Fierce loyalty. Cuts the world down to protect your peace. Would financially support you without even asking if you wanted to stay at home.

Cons: Will implode if you say the word “vulnerable” too directly.

[inglourious-imagines]

Are you still writing for BOB? I want to request for our favorite Nixon but no one seems to write anymore 😩

Scotch Whiskey (Lewis Nixon x F!Reader)

Summary: You are a spy and Nixon is completely enamoured by you.

Taglist: @alienoresimagines-archive @teenmagazines @meteora-fc @eugenesmorphine @band-of-brothers-cz @real-fans @not-john-watsons-blog @tealaquinn @ok-roemanov @mrseasycompany @punkgeekchic @wexhappyxfew @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @rayofshanshine @mavysnavy @easynix @georgeluzwarmhugs @easy-company-tradition @immrsronaldspeirs @snafus-peckuh @curraheewestandalone @warrior-healer @justamadgirlinabox @happyveday @order-of-river-phoenix @whoahersheybars @nixoninc @iceman-kazansky

Warnings: mentions of blood, some flirting, allusions to sexy time but nothing specific

A/N: What is happening? Am I writing? It's been a while since I saw BoB last so be kind.

.

.

.

He first met her when the unit was still in Toccoa, way back in 1942. She was the only female paratrooper in the 101st Airborne Division and one of the best soldiers Easy Company has even seen. Hell, the US Army has ever seen. She got reassigned from God knows where just three weeks after the training in Toccoa began. Lewis Nixon tried everything in his power to figure out anything about her past and what was the reason that got her reassigned to the paratroopers – but in vain, the intelligence officer found nothing.

What infuriated him even more at that time, was that she disappeared for days on end sometimes and no one said a word about it. Not even Sobel mentioned it once, made fun of her when she got back, nothing from the high command. Everything was quiet and she just floated through the air and space with such elegant ease, not drawing any attention, that he barely realized she was gone until she came back.

It cost him many sleepless nights, many arguments with the HQ when he pressed about the matter, but never any answers. Everyone kept their mouth shut. Not even Richard Winters knew anything, at least not in 1942 or 1943.

It is only in the summer of 1944 when he realizes what it’s been going on right under his nose. Only few know about the many doings of Y/N Y/L/N, because in this branch of a job, the less you know, the better. Richard Winters has been in on it since D-Day, as the HQ informed him about her „additional assignments“ that are highly classified.

It is after the jump when he sees her with Liebgott and Luz, laughing at something, and his heart flutters – with something he does not recognize yet but also with the realization that she is in fact a spy. He chuckles at that, shaking his head at how he could have been so stupid.

“You finally got it?” Richard wakes him up from his daydreaming, hinting at Lewis’s long stare at the female paratrooper.

He somewhat frowns, “What are you on about?”

Winters gives him a rather long look, trying to figure out whether Nixon really knows what he is talking about or if he is really such an oblivious idiot. He leans toward the latter.

“The best intelligence officer I know and still so clueless about the stuff that actually matters,” he replays cryptically with a laugh.

Nixon smacks his arm playfully. “You’re a dick. Stop giving me that Sherlock Holmes shit and spill.”

“Nah, I might let you figure it out yourself. Plus you’re right about that job,” Winter hints at who he’s talking about and refuses to continue with the conversation.

Lewis frowns, his mind racing. He hears her laugh just then, his head instinctively turning to that melodic sound he would much rather get drunk on than his beloved whiskey. He would become an abstinent in a second, if it meant he would hear her laugh, even just once.

And then it hits him.

“No,” he says resolutely, shaking his head obsessively, as if he’s trying to shake that idea out of his system.

Richard just laughs, wholeheartedly, quite enjoying his best friend squirm. “Tell that to your flaming hot red cheeks, boy.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Lewis Nixon retorts, trying to ignore Dick’s knowing chuckles but failing miserably.

“I’m sure that’s what you would like to do to someone.”

He tries to smack Winters for that last comment, but he is already jogging to join his platoon, laughing, leaving Nixon with just his thoughts, red cheeks, and some rather tight pants.

Next time he sees her is in Carentan. That’s inaccurate – he sees her before the attack on the town of Carentan in the provisional headquarters, as she walks out of the general’s doors, passing by like wind and is gone before he blinks. He tries to follow her but loses her the second she turns around a corner and he is like a lost puppy, looking from left to right, trying to find his person.

Only then he sees her in Carentan. The battle is done, some men died, but she didn’t and strangely enough, that is all that matters to Nixon, as cruel as it sounds. He is already at peace with the fact that he is not the noblest of men, but he hopes that somewhere deep inside of him he still is a good man.

He watches her talk to his best friend, their heads together. She has scratches all over her face, one bigger just below her left eye that’s bleeding a little bit. He notices the bruised knuckles and the dried blood on her hands that presumably is not hers. Her left sleeve of the uniform is slightly torn, some leaves stick to her boots, small wooden stick is stuck in her right boot. A soldier simply wouldn’t be able to look like this after a battle like Carentan, he thinks, and smack himself internally right after for analysing her for so long.

He knows what she does and apparently, she is very good at it.

Winters is gesticulating for him to come over and Lewis Nixon, an intelligent officer, soldier in a war, is suddenly nervous, his palms sweating a bit, but his legs carry him over and he is standing in front of her for the first time in his life.

He tries to get himself together but no matter the inner monologue of commanding and insults can get his heart to beat any slower.

“Let me introduce you to my best friend, Cpt. Lewis Nixon,” Winters starts the conversation, as he notices how visibly twitchy the intelligence officer is.

Y/N smiles and extends her hand. “I know who he is.”

And just like that she completely has him, wrapped around her finger, him not trying to resist it one bit.

Lewis Nixon accepts her hand, shaking it, not minding the dried blood of their enemies. “And I know who you are,” he replies, and she laughs at the comment. She laughs and he is in heaven and not in a war-torn France because surely that sound just simply cannot belong in this cruel reality.

“He’s cheeky, I like that,” Y/N says more to Winters than him, and his friend smirks, “I thought you would. I don’t know why you’re meeting just now.”

His cheeks are red again.

“You know what, Dick? I don’t know either. It is a shame indeed,” she says and sends him a wink.

Fuck.

“Gotta run boys, have reports to file and all that crap. But I’ll find you both later and I’ll bring some of that booze you like to keep hidden in Richard’s footlocker, Lew.”

Fuuuuuuck. How does she know about that?

Y/N turns her head once more to him. “Oh and try not to get caught staring too long again, or those drinks might not be the only thing making your head spin, Nixon.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She does indeed find them in the evening, when the Company is given some time off, letting the new reinforcements mingle. She plops herself down next to Nixon, much closer for his breathing to come naturally, but still far away to keep his mind mad and sane at the same time. Lewis notices how she could have sat down next to Dick too, but she made the decision to choose his side, and he lets himself believe that it must have been on purpose and not some absentminded actions. Surely.

He is going crazy, he thinks. Lord, have mercy.

“Quite lively here,” she notes, while looking around the room that is filled with smoke, laughter and hope.

“Maybe too lively,” Richards answers and picks himself up from the floor. “I don’t drink anyway and have some paperwork to do too, I’m sure you’ll do fine without me.”

Lewis shoots him a what the fuck are you doing look but that doesn’t stop Winters from winking at him and walking away from a possible crime scene.

“See you in the morning, Dick,” she says and then, just like that, they are alone.

He is probably too much aware of how close she is to him; he can feel the warmth radiating from her body and he has to do everything in his power to restrain himself.

“So, where were we?” she smiles sweetly and pulls out a brand-new bottle of Teacher’s Highland Cream, a blended Scoth whisky he knows but haven’t tasted.

“You are evil,” he laughs.

She winks at him. “You recognize it?”

“Yeah, but I haven’t had it yet.”

“Oh, Lew,” she chuckles, “you are just so limited in your alcoholism, it’s honestly a bit sad.”

Lew. She calls him Lew, and he is sure he would forgive her everything.

“It is actually a bit like you,” her voice suddenly quieter than before.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” she smiles, her eyes looking directly at him as she turns to face him, “it has quite a strong character. It has sweet undertones with a touch of smoke,” her gaze drops for a second to his cigarette hanging from between his fingers, “and it has a warm, lingering finish.”

The last part of the sentence is said slowly, and in such a tone Lewis is sure he will lose his mind any second. He has to. No man can survive this.

“Let me try it,” he hears himself say but it feels like it is not even him saying those words.

She hands him the bottle and their fingers brush against each other for a fleeting moment.

“And I quite enjoy the name. I do like the Cream.”

When he hears her say that he immediately chokes on the alcohol and must take a break. His cheeks flushed and his pants tight, he quickly adjusts his seating position so she wouldn’t discover just how big of an effect she has on him.

Y/N laughs sweetly, patting him on the back.

“You enjoy making men fluster?” he says once he calms himself.

She thinks for a moment and then looks at him. “No, just you.”

His restraint is hanging by a thread at that point. And he knows she is very well aware of it.

“You are playing with fire,” Lewis whispers, not trusting himself to speak out loud.

Y/N moves a bit closer and he can feel her breath on his skin. “I’ve been playing with fire my whole life. You think I’ll get burned this time?”

“You might.”

She holds the eye contact and Lewis sees how she is contemplating something in her head, but then something changes, and he just knows she’s made up her mind in that moment.

“Why don’t we go into my room and find out?”

This sentence right there, that smile that followed, he would wage another war if it meant he could see her smile and talk like that again.

Little did they know they will have their entire lifetimes to tease each other like that one night somewhere in the middle of France.

[steveharringf]

im gonna die if there isn’t any new band of brothers fics on here soon

like im legit going crazy.

[speirslore]

when you get hurt hcs [officers + roe]

a/n: requested <3 usually in my writing the reader is implied to be a part of easy company in a vague way bc i know ppl have different preferences but some of these include getting shot (not graphic or anything) so ig that implies they're on the front lines

lmk if you would like to be on my taglist! @ronsparky @bcon24 @blueberry-ovaries @1waveshortofashipwreck

[dick winters]

you hit your head prettyyyy hard, and you're out of it, probably definitely concussed

it happens right in front of dick and he tries really hard to keep calm

he wants to be strong and level-headed for you

shows more obvious affection then any of the men have ever seen from him; pets your hair, holds your hand, is always by your side

he immediately gets you a medic and transported to an aid station and doesn’t want to leave you

but when dick's back with easy, he gets uncharacteristically easily angry and frustrated...

he gets quiet and withdrawn and a little snappy with zelensky and nix... and they both immediately know why

whenever he can go see you, he's there.. he even gets behind on all his paperwork (but nix offers to help)

which dick is hesitant to accept for many reasons, he feels guilty, like he's not focusing on his duties but lew is always good at keeping the reports concise lol

very fragile with you, he isn't underestimating you but he just absolutely does not want to push you or hurt you

is a stickler for the rules, follows absolutely everything the doctor says

he has to wake you up every few hours and you keep insisting it’s unnecessary and dick is absolutely not having it

you try to get up and move around and all dick has to hear is the sheets moving and he just gives you that stare, a little bit like a disappointed mom, and you're right back laying down

he’s way more clingy than usual, wants to be by your side, subtly holding your hand

in that moment it definitely hits him how much he loves and cares about you... he hasn't really had time or space to process those feelings until now <3

[lewis nixon]

it does not look good at first

it's really scary for everyone there, you loose a lot of blood and lose consciousness

lew is not there when you're first shot in the leg and everyone is very glad that he didn't have to see it

but when he finds out... oh he is not keeping cool, is not pretending even a little bit to be okay

starts lashing out and snaps at the driver who's taking him to the hospital to drive faster, mad that they didn't tell him sooner, mad that you were injured, mad at the war, furious at absolutely everything

lew has to be monitored by dick not to go full self destruction mode and get incredibly drunk

he hates just sitting with the constant uncomfortable feeling and reminder that you're hurting

he will not leave your side at first when you’re sleeping a lot, on a lot of medicine, and out of it

one nurse does approach him when he's the only vistor in the hospital left, "sir, the visiting hours-"

he just looks up, obviously devastated, voice cracking, "i'm can't leave. you can drag me out but i'm not going, thanks."

they back off after that

does go through a phase where he hates going once you're more conscious because he kills him to see you like that and face this feels irrational guilt he feels for not being there

because he definitely has the tendency to avoid his problems and things that hurt him

but it hurts you too and you don't fully understand

you look up at dick and harry, slightly delirious from the morphine, tearing up, "does he not want to see me anymore?"

after that they do drag lew to see you and you just straight up tell him feeling guilty is pointless and not fair to himself (or you)

and then it's right back to not leaving your side and always trying to make you laugh or smile

[ron speirs]

okay so i love the angel of the company x speirs trope

by now he's the co of easy and your relationship is a widely known secret...

he assigns you and the group of other men to a patrol... it wasn't an overly risky or bad order, a standard order from sink

but you guys make contact and you're shot in the arm

it just absolutely wrecks him

the guys feel like he's just going to go across enemy lines and find the soldier that shot you himself

the rest of the guys are furious too because everyone just absolutely loves you

for a short time, he's mad at the other soldiers on the patrol and you have to reminder him they didn't do anything wrong

but ron is really just irrationally mad at himself for not being there, for not being psychic, he's just angry he somehow didn't stop this

ron is not controlling and not possessive and he knows you can hold your own but he feels responsible for taking care of you and making sure you're safe

even if he can't quite articulate all of those feelings yet

he doesn't understand all the emotions he feels and doesn't even have time to try to understand them

he listens so attentively to the doctors, he can recite everything they've said word for word

like with chuck, he demands the absolute best from the doctors

this incident shows his more compassionate side and the guys start to see how much he really cares about you... bc they're protective of you too!

you have to comfort him and his voice breaks

and he feels weak and he feels bad that you're comforting him and not the other way around

"i'm messing everything up, doing everything wrong," he says more to himself but you frown, eyebrows furrowed and everything

"you're so hard on yourself, ron. when it's not your fault, it was routine, you didn't shoot me. then i'd be really pissed." you smile and he smiles weakly... but he's on edge for a longgg time after this

[carwood lipton]

unfortunately you and lip just cannot catch a break

your leg gets injured while he has pneumonia

it's not a major injury but a bullet ricocheted off of a wall and slightly grazed you and you need a few days of staying off of it

lip really tries to be comforting

and wants to be there for you and he is!

but it's very hard for him, he just wants you to be okay so badly, even when he himself isn't okay

trying to lecture you about staying off of your leg and asking others for help but breaking out into a coughing fit and then you're trying to help him sit up and to go get some hot water for him

and then he's back to telling you to stop and starts hoarsely calling for luz

it's a MESS

but carwood is a natural caretaker and has been one for most of his life

it makes him hover sooo badly especially because since he's sick too he doesn't have a lot of work to keep him busy

but you're not complaining honestly, it's nice to have more private time and something of a break, even if you're both miserable

you get the special privilege of an actual private back bed room with a mattress and blankets

kind of a bonding experience

you just laugh because what the fuck

it's kind of romantic, first time in a longgg time in an actual bed together

you just go back and forth talking about your future and the life you want after the war

"i don't like this wallpaper," you murmur into his chest

he laughs and that turns into coughing again and you're just rubbing his back trying not to bend your leg... domestic bliss <3

[buck compton]

buck... does not take it well

he takes it extremely hard

like his reaction to joe and bill...

you have pneumonia and the peniciln you need isn't available in bastogne

and it's even worse that he finds out you're sick only a few hours after that and that you've been sick and struggling for the past few days

maybe his reaction would've been different earlier on in the war

but now, it just feels like a destructive domino effect that's sparing no one

it's obvious after all of his friends injuries and your pneumonia that he couldn't stay on the front line... his red bleary eyes and slightly trembling hands said enough

when he gets taken off the line, you're both in an aid station together for a few hours before you're both transferred to different hospital

so his presence is silent reassurance

you want so badly to comfort him but you're so sick and he doesn't want you to, he feels so guilty leaving you

but you hoarsely tell him he needs a break and to process what happened

you're feeling slightly better this day so that makes it a little better... but not that much

both of you have been through hell

but there is a light in the tunnel... or at least you feel that way

buck isn't on the front lines anymore and you both have a chance at a life together post-war

he does not want to leave you, it has to take a lot of malarkey's coaxing him and promising to update buck

[eugene roe]

gene can't decide if having medical knowledge makes it better or worse

and if being the medic and being the one to have their hands covered in the your blood, was better than leaving it in the hands of someone else

he decides it's awful... definitely worse

the very few hours he slept, it was just dreaming of your terrified face

and he wakes with a jolt and is completely miserable

and life just goes on...

a lot of pacing and murmuring

gene closes in on himself when he's upset and stressed, so he becomes even quieter than normal

and the other guys are worried like ??? do we need to intervene and lip just stops them, "leave him alone, he'll be okay."

prays for you a lot, gripping his rosary so tightly and the photo that he has of the two of you when you were still in england

when you both felt some semblance of normalcy

he can't abandon the company to stay with you full time at the aid station to his incredible frustration and disappointment

it's just hard for him to go on like everything's fine, it shatters whatever illusion he has of fairness and hope and safety

whenever someone else gets injured or they need supplies, he'll take any excuse to ride back to the aid station to see you

and if anyone else goes, they always see you and give gene an update

winters definitely notices and tries to give him opportunities to see you

likes watching you rest and sleep (because you definitely needed it, even before you got injured) in the sweetest, non-creepy way

gene loves to just sit with you, see you with his own eyes, and know for certain that you're okay

[luminouslywriting]

BoB headcanon! What sort of long term goals/challenges do you think the boys would like to accomplish with their significant other? Like a DIY project, sports, gardening, etc.?

A/N: Hello darlings! I have decided to grace you with a request since I'm dealing with a horrible head cold still and need some fluff! Enjoy! Note that the gif belongs to foreverthe80s and my requests are open!

Dick Winters:

-He's got a garden for sure

-It's his pride and joy; vegetables and fruits, an apple tree—the whole nine yards. Every Saturday, he wants to be outside and tending to it with you and he'll even help you plant all your favorite flowers.

-World's nicest front and backyard goes to you two

Lewis Nixon:

-He has a goal of visiting all 50 states while he's with you

-This means either doing road trips, flights, or even boat rides. It doesn't have to be done quickly, he just wants to travel and see the country with you.

-His goal is to get a picture of you two kissing in every state haha

Ronald Speirs:

-DIY project extraordinaire

-He's constantly bringing home random project materials and just being like, "let's make a wreath or let's build a bird-house."

-It's random AF and probably lowkey related to kleptomania haha

Buck Compton:

-Two words....BOOK CLUB

-This man wants to do a spouse/SO book challenge where you read a book together and then get together and talk about it haha

-He wants to hear all of your thoughts on Pride and Prejudice or Guys and Dolls lol

Carwood Lipton:

-His big project is building you a pool and making your house a dream-house

-He does the entire thing himself and doesn't hire it out because he wants it to be something that he gives you

-And it takes a LONG time for the house to be all the way finished, but you're both very happy with it when it's done

Joe Liebgott:

-I can't explain why but I know that in my soul, he's a man who gets really randomly into couples' golfing and tennis??

-Like make it make sense, okay? But the point is that he wants to do matches with you and compete against your other couple friends

-It becomes a monthly competition in the summers

Donald Malarkey:

-I can't explain it but he's invested in making a scrapbook with you that you both add entries and photos to

-His only rule is that the photos have to be in the moment, not posed

-It makes for a full life document haha :)

Eugene Roe:

-He wants to build an outdoor gazebo for your flower garden

-He does all the landscaping in the backyard and you're the one who plans out how you want everything to look

-It's a project years in the making and he's very happy when it's finally finished!

Bill Guarnere:

-He wants to fix up an old car from the 20s for you two; and so you'll work on it together and he'll teach you how to do things with it

-The agreement is that for an hour every Saturday, you two will work on it together, fixing it up and making it look nice

-And then you'll go and put that backseat of the car to good use haha

Joe Toye:

-He wants to film all of the special and important moments in your life and so he starts an "important moments video diary"

-This includes the wedding, when you announced that you guys were having kids, big moments in your life, etc.

-And then he wants to eventually put it together for a wedding anniversary present montage

George Luz:

-Absolutely wants to do a stand-up comedy show with you at some point and so he starts scripting it out and it's great

-He takes you to shows to get inspiration and then starts prepping for a day when you two finally get to do your own

-Yes, it's a weekend Vegas show that only goes for like a month; he's thrilled

[privatebullshit]

with faith undaunted [part 03.]

— ♡

part 03. timidity [3k+ words]

summary: y/n y/l/n is a nurse-in-training when she meets joseph j. toye in 1942, shortly after the attack on pearl harbor, at camp toccoa. she's the americana dream, he's a reckless private. what happens when their fates cross paths?

♡ follow along on their journey of love, loss, and hardship as the story progresses in events taking place before, during, and after the war. ♡

warnings: language, throw up, time period sexism, liebgott (you'll see why), harassment

a/n: pic is not a face claim for y/n! just what her and joe would look like talking to each other<3

song rec: anything - adrianne lenker, bluebird - lana del rey

wfu taglist: @luvrottt @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @fromjupitertocentauri @annasansh @bluecanvasshoe @catbusloki

previous parts: 00. promo 01. remembrance 02. blossoming

wfu masterlist bofb masterlist

— ♡

Apparently, nearly everyone had been getting promoted today— Joe included, so he sat outside of his quarters with a needle and thread in hand. He carefully sewed the double chevrons onto his uniform sleeve, cursing whenever he accidentally pricked his fingers. Sure, he used to watch his mother sew back at home, but he never quite learned the art of it.

Y/n had just happened to pass by while carrying a stack of medical field manuals, her headscarf fluttering in the wind. Joe looked up to see her walking, hand stilling its movements as he called her name.

"Y/n!"

She jumped at the sound of his voice, fumbling with the books as she looked his way. Y/n looked like she was about to chew out whoever yelled her name, but upon seeing that it was Joe, her jaw unclenched and her brows began to unfurrow slowly.

"Oh, Joseph. Hello," she greeted him with a nod, walking a bit closer. She inspected his uniform top, laughing slightly at his sewing skills. There were long threads askew, visible stitches, and some parts of the patch that were unstitching itself. She took pity on Joe, setting the manuals down as she took a seat beside him, sliding the top from his lap to hers.

"I was almost done," Joe muttered, embarrassment creeping into his tone. It was bad enough that she saw his poor stitching, now she was going to help him with it.

Y/n looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before reaching to pluck the needle from his thumb and forefinger, "Consider it a congratulations on your promotion, Corporal."

She smiled at him, digging her hand into her apron to fish out a pair of scissors, cutting away at the previous stitches. She made quick work of sewing on the new chevrons, making it look easier than words could muster. Joe watched as her fingers nimbly rethreaded the needle with precision he could only hope to have. Each pull of the needle and thread was like a pull on his heartstrings, finding himself completely enamored— even if he didn't realize it fully just yet.

Y/n snips the remaining thread after making a strong knot, holding up the uniform to admire her work.

"Here you go, Joseph," she said softly, a proud smile making her whole face light up beautifully.

Joe swallows hard, taking the top and tugging it on. His ego bloomed at the fact that he was wearing chevrons that y/n sewed on herself, but he bit his tongue to prevent any nonsense from slipping out of his mouth.

"Where'd ya learn to sew like that?" he asked.

Y/n looked to the ground, "Nurse training. They teach you how to stitch people up, so doing it on some clothes is really nothing."

Joe nodded, silent for a moment before speaking again. "Thank you, I really appreciate it, y'know?" he said, thumb rubbing against the fabric on the bottom of his fatigues.

"It's no trouble at all. I'm happy to help," Y/n responded, beginning to stand up.

Joe caught her wrist before she could fully stand, pulling her down just enough to wrap his arms around her shoulders in a hug. Y/n let out a small squeak at the sudden closeness, but brought her arms around his neck hesitantly, drawing him closer.

He breathed in the scent of her, perfume filling his senses and making his mind hazy. But the moment was fleeting, Y/n wriggling out of his grasp and stepping back, grabbing her books once more.

A soft sigh escaped Joe's lips, disappointment striking him in the gut. He understood her apprehension, as much as it pained him to go another second without feeling her skin on his. He was forbidden to let her know how he truly felt, the blossoming, raging feelings for her growing more each day. He wanted nothing more than to say that he adored her so, but the path they chose in life stopped him.

Y/n gave him a quick nod before hurrying off to complete her duty, leaving Joe alone again. His finger traced the chevrons, a million thoughts clouding him at once.

Luz spotted Joe sitting alone, striding over to the man, "Ya look like a kicked puppy there, Joe."

"Shut up, Luz," Joe muttered, scoffing as he stood up.

"What? I'm just sayin'. Every other man in the company has noticed except for you," George laughed, hitting Joe's arm playfully.

Joe scowled, his tough exterior returning, "Notice what? Fuck off with your bullshit, Luz."

George put his hands up in surrender, still looking at Joe with a grin, "Are you sayin' that you don't have any idea what I'm talking about? At all?"

Joe's jaw clenched as he shook his head. He hated being oblivious to his own behavior, but he especially hated being obvious.

George's grin falters slightly as he puts a supportive hand on Joe's shoulder, "You've got it bad for that chick, Joe. It's written all over ya face!"

The taller man rolled his eyes, but he couldn't exactly deny the truth in George's words.

"She's everything," Joe admitted quietly, his usual gruffness lacing his voice. "But we can't be together."

George sighed, nodding in understanding, "I know, bud, maybe if things were different. . ."

Joe nodded in agreement this time.

Had they been two normal civilians instead of him enlisting in the army and her in the Army Nurse Corps, maybe things would've been different— but maybe they would've never met at all then. Maybe.

— ♡

Joe wasn't the only promotion, of course, word of Sobel reaching Captain status quickly spreading. As a "celebration," Captain Sobel allowed the men to have a spaghetti meal for dinner. Joe got his plate of noodles with sauce splattered on top, taking a seat next to his buddies.

"This is army noodles with ketchup," Perconte said in disgust, still helping himself to a mouthful anyway.

Joe chuckled, shoveling food into his mouth. It had been forever since they had a decent meal that was worth going crazy over. Thank God for Sobel's promotion, he guessed.

Well, shit, he guessed wrong.

A loud whistle blew through the mess hall, the sound of harsh footsteps following, "Orders changed. Get up!" Sobel shouted as the men stood up and at attention.

Sobel continued, "Lectures are cancelled. Easy Company is running up Currahee."

The men stood still and slowly chewed whatever food was left in their mouth. Sobel turned and and screamed at the men, "Move, move!"

All of Easy shuffled out of the mess hall, groaning in discomfort as they went to go change into their PT gear. Joe cursed Sobel under his breath, catching up with Guarnere and Perconte.

"That sonuvabitch, I should've known," Joe huffed, rushing into their quarters to change.

"I ate two servin's of that crap, Jesus Christ. . ." Guarnere spat, holding his stomach as if he was ready to throw up already.

Perconte made a face, nauseated by the thought, "Well, don't aim it my way, Gonorrhea."

They ran Currahee while Captain Sobel screamed at them, telling men that they were pathetic for throwing up all over themselves. Joe felt sick, but he swallowed down the warm spit that collected in his mouth.

Luz started to sing to bring back up morale, eventually the whole company joining in, Joe's voice booming as well.

"We pull upon the risers, we fall upon the grass. We never land upon our feet, we always hit our ass. Hidee tidee, Christ Almighty, who the hell are we? Zim, zam, goddamn. We're Airborne Infantry!"

Without a doubt, Joe dragged himself to the aid station after completing all six miles of the run. He found a bunch of the other men there like Webster, Liebgott, Malarkey, Muck, and Penkala. Safe to say, even with a stomach ache, they were enjoying getting fussed over by the nurses, including y/n.

Webster was pretty quiet, but his eyes shone with pure adoration as y/n gave him some nausea medicine, placing the pills in his palm and instructing him to take them with a good amount of water. He thanked her before nearly stumbling over his feet trying to get out of the tent, cheeks and ears pink.

Liebgott apologized for his friend's behavior, leaning against one of the stacks of crates as he shamelessly looked y/n up and down as her back was turned.

"Say, doll, what made you want to join the Army Nurse Corps?" he asked, eyes flitting over to Joe before returning back to y/n's back. She turned around, his gaze roaming over her chest without a second thought.

"First, I'm not your doll, and secondly, I wanted the same thing as you— to join the war effort. Is that a good enough answer for you?" she snapped, haphazardly putting away boxes of medicines for the medics in training. Joe had never seen her so ready to rip someone's head off.

Liebgott scoffed and smirked, pushing himself off the crates to grab her chin, "Nah. The only answer I need is hearin' the pretty noises you're gonna make for me once I get ya alone."

Joe's blood started to boil, taking a step forward and ready to interfere, but y/n handled it on her own.

She smacked Liebgott's hand off of her, starting to scream, "STOP BOTHERING ME!" So it must've not been the first time Liebgott's been there and said things like that. Muck, Malarkey, and Penkala slowly backed away from the tent, the three Stooges scampering away in fear.

Liebgott didn't budge, his shit-eating grin still on his face, "C'mon doll, no one will know. You're lucky I'm even lookin' your way."

That did it for Joe, he couldn't just stand there anymore. Fuck his nausea, Liebgott's behavior made him more disgusted than anything else.

"That's enough, Liebgott. Leave her alone," he hissed, taking a step in front of y/n, shielding her from Lieb's gaze. Liebgott barked out a sarcastic laugh, a cocky eyebrow raised at Joe.

"You're protectin' the broad, yeah? Why? Are you hopin' that she'll let you fuck her real good if you do?" Liebgott crossed his arms, awaiting a response from the other man.

Y/n saw another side of Joe that day too, gasping as she watched Joe swing at Liebgott's face. He had hit the latter square in the nose, earning a pain groaned from him and another swinging fist. Soon, the two were brawling on the aid station's floor. She knew better than to get involved directly, so she quickly fetched some of the other guys to help.

"Hey, Liebgott and Toye are fighting! Can someone come break them up before they mess up my aid station?" she screamed at a group of men consisting of Luz, Guarnere, Roe, and Powers. The men hurried into the tent, two each pulling one man off of the other who were still spitting insults at one another.

"If you dare touch her or say anythin' like that again— if you even fuckin' look at her again, Liebgott— I'll fuckin' kill ya!" Joe shouted, struggling against Luz and Roe's grips, the two telling him to shut up and quiet down.

Liebgott, whose face was fucked up and bloody now, laughed, "I'd like to see you fuckin' try, lover boy. You can have her. No bitch is worth this much trouble."

Joe started to scream at him again, both men being dragged away to their respective quarters. Roe stayed behind, letting out a disgruntled sigh, turning to y/n.

"I'll take care of their injuries later. Are you alright?" he asked, his thick Cajun accent soothing her in the moment.

Y/n nodded, thumbs rubbing on her apron. She looked a little shaken up and a tad bit guilty, as if she threw the first punch.

"Hey, hey, look at me," Roe said softly, dipping his head to look at her face better. Her eyes met his, a slight pout on her face.

"It's not your fault. Liebgott was being a couyon," he reassured her, placing a friendly hand on her shoulder as comfort.

She gave him a half-smile, grateful for his words and respectful touch, but her little smile fell as she thought about Joseph.

"I don't want him to get in trouble," she said, hushed and guilt-ridden.

Roe's brows furrowed at first, wondering who she was talking about before piecing it together, "Who? Toye?"

Y/n nodded, exhaling softly, "He was just. . .defending me."

Roe hummed, "Maybe that's something you oughta talk to Lieutenant Winters about. In the meantime, I'll go see what's going on, okay? Take it easy."

He gave her shoulder a light pat, turning on his heel to go scold the two men and take care of whatever bruises they sustained.

Y/n chewed on her bottom lip before brushing herself off and deciding to head to the officer area, looking around for Winters. Sergeant Lipton spotted her, walking over to see what she needed.

"Miss y/l/n, it's good to see you. You look lost, can I help you with something?" Lipton asked, standing in front of her now.

She looked up at Lipton, lips still in a slight pout, unsure of what to say. She really didn't want to get anyone in trouble; she was scared. Y/n's hands wrung in circles before Lipton reached out to take them in his, stilling her nervous fidgets.

"Y/n, what's going on?" he asked more cautiously this time, eyes scanning over her distressed expression. Y/n leaned in to whisper what happened and why she needed to talk to Lieutenant Winters, Lipton's eyes widening.

If anything, Lipton didn't stand for harassment in the field, or at all, for that matter. He quietly escorted y/n to Winters' office, knocking on the door.

"Enter," Winters called out.

Lipton saluted Winters, the latter saluting him back before telling him to be at ease.

"How can I help you, Carwood?" he asked, hands folded in front of him on his desk.

Lipton sucked in a breath, turning his head, "Go on in, honey, it's okay."

Winters raised an eyebrow, putting it back down when he saw y/n enter from behind Lipton, standing beside him. She gives him a timid salute, earning a soft chuckle from the man before he saluted her back.

"At ease, come here, what's wrong?" he asked, motioning for her and Lipton to have a seat.

She explained the situation to Winters, watching as his expression went from relaxed to concerned to angry in seconds.

"Thank you for telling me, y/n. I'd like you to know that we take this very seriously here, and Liebgott will be reprimanded as we see fit," Winters said, running a hand down his face.

"I- I do have one request, sir," she spoke, fingers tapping along the armrest of the chair.

Winters hummed, urging her to continue.

"Please don't punish Toye, he was only trying to defend me. And if you must, just— nothing too harsh, please."

Winters looked at Lipton who merely raised his eyebrows, signaling for him to make a decision. The former hummed once more, eyes going back to y/n's, "I will respect your request, Miss y/l/n. Toye will be given latrine duty for fighting with another enlisted man, but nothing more."

Y/n nodded gratefully, "Thank you, sir, and you too, Sergeant Lipton."

They both nodded, Winters standing up as she did, "Dismissed. Get some rest, y/n, you deserve it."

She thanked him before scurrying off to the women's quarters, ready to get into bed and forget everything else for a few hours.

— ♡

A week later

Y/n had been getting ready to use her weekend pass to go into town for a bit to get some fresh air and buy a few things that the commissary didn't offer. Joe caught her just in time, running to meet her before she passed the gate.

"Y/n, wait! Wait up. . ." he panted, slowing down to a stop as he stood in front of her.

"Joseph," she said, looking at the man with a gentle gaze.

"The one and only," he grinned, standing up straight as his chest continuing to rise rapidly.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, setting her bag down.

Joe ran a hand through his hair, clearly not thinking that far ahead, "Uhm, well, I came to say thank you, y'know, for talking to Winters. And also, to ask how you were doin', I can't imagine what's it like to be talked to like that by a man." He clicked his tongue, remembering the fiasco.

"Oh right, of course. It was only right of me," she said, eyes darting past him, not wanting to make direct eye contact. "I'm fine, thank you for asking."

Joe nodded, his mouth dry with words that he wished to say. He wasn't quite sure how to string a sentence together with her there.

"Right, so where're you headed for the weekend?" he asked, glancing at her overnight bag.

"Just going into town for a bit. . . sight see, go shopping, you know."

Joe nodded once more, letting out a hum of acknowledgement. He wanted to go with her, to hold her hand as they walked around the shoppes, to buy her whatever she wanted with the money he's earned so far. But he couldn't, he had to stay on base.

"Have a good weekend, y/n. I'll see you soon," Joe said, taking a step back to let her leave.

Y/n looked at him, her longing expression causing Joe's breath to hitch.

"See you soon, Joseph," she whispered, taking a few steps closer to him. His breathing became uneven as she looked around before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek, stepping away before anyone could see.

She turned and started to walk, leaving him dumbfounded as he touched the spot she kissed with his fingertips. Before she passed through the gate, he called out to her.

"It's 'Joe!'"

She faced him and tilted her head, puzzled, "Sorry?"

"'Joe'. You can call me 'Joe,'" he said, a sense of yearning coating over his words like honey.

She smiled softly, "Then, I'll see you later, Joe."

Never before had Joe fallen for someone as hard as he did for her, now standing like a lovesick fool as he watched her fleeting form.