#conversations with major dick winters

[roseslaces]

"I’m thinking of the letter that Talbert sent you shortly before he died. He said, ‘Dick, you are loved and will never be forgotten by any soldier who ever served under you. You are the best friend I ever had. . . . You were my ideal, and motor in combat. . . . You are to me the greatest soldier I could ever hope to meet.’” “The feeling was certainly mutual. Floyd Talbert will always be special to me. I have said this more than once. If I had to pick out just one man to be with me on a mission in combat, it would be Talbert.”

Conversations with Major Dick Winters -  Cole C. Kingseed

[evidenceof]

From Harry Welsh's file: Presenting Dick Winters turning to Lewis Nixon in breakneck speed

One of the things that never fails to make my stomach do goddamn backflips are instances post-war when people remember Dick and Nix as a pair, whether consciously or unconsciously. Like a verbal/written representation of Dick saying, "He [Nix] always walked on my left side, one or two steps behind me." Many such cases:

Second Lieutenant Thomas Gibson in a letter to Harry Welsh (Feb 1980) after mentioning Dick he asks, "Oh by the way how's that Nixon guy?"

I do remember Dick Winters quite well. I almost hope he doesn't remember me. About the last time we met eyeball to eyeball was when we were in Germany or Austria toward the end of the war. [...] I do hope you give him my best wishes when you can. By the way, whatever became of Lewis Nixon? As I remember it Cap. Lewis J. Nixon III got letters from his father whose return address was Lewis J. Nixon II. Nixon Nitrate 00., Nixon, New Jersey. Is that right or do I just remember it that way? Tom L. Gibson in a letter to Harry Welsh dated 6 Feb. 1980

When Cole Kingseed's daughter, who spoke a lot to Dick when her father was writing out the two memoirs, hears about Dick's passing she says immediately,

“He was such a good friend to you, to us. I hope Major Winters is reuniting with his good buddy Nixon up in heaven right now, sharing their old glory stories.” - Conversations with Major Dick Winters, Cole C. Kingseed

Don Malarkey goes into a Nixon tangent in a 2007 panel when asked by an audience member, "Why did you guys respect Winters so much?"

He was a guy you admired for his personal habits... He didn't drink. He didn't smoke. I don't think he cussed. And there was a question on whether he went out with girls or not. So I think Winters' personal habits reflected on a feeling of a mentor. His best friend was a severe alcoholic—Nixon. How do you figure that out? Nixon, uh, Winters went to work for Nixon at Nixon Nitrate Company in New Jersey. [...] Band of Brothers Panel, American Veterans Center Conference 2007

[shelyue99]

(When Winters was inquired about his relationship with Nixon) "You seem to have been polar opposites. You didn't drink, nor did you swear. Nixon did both and in huge quantities. He would have been the last man whom I think you would have befriended. What was the foundation of your friendship with Nixon?”

Dick's eyes shone as he recalled his old friend. "It is hard to explain. I had first met Nix when we were at Fort Benning, Georgia, in officer candidate school. Later we served as platoon leaders under Sobel's command. A special bond always exists among the platoon commanders in any military company, particularly when they perceive their own commander as 'the enemy. I stayed in Easy Company, but Nix was transferred to higher headquarters. He drank too much, but he was also very conscientious.

He was conscientious in his own way, on a man-to-man basis, and he always looked at what would best benefit the battalion. His contribution cannot truly be measured. There is no question in my mind that Nixon was the best combat soldier in 2nd Battalion. By the time we jumped into Holland, I was so lonely that I needed someone in whom I could confide my inner thoughts. That someone was Nix.

Whenever the bullets began to fly, I could turn and there stood Nix.

He always walked on my left side, one or two steps behind me. This was his token of respect for me as a commander."

Dick continued, "I also had the opportunity to observe how he handled himself under fire. The best way to illustrate this was in Holland when we encountered a German roadblock. As the 2nd Battalion peeled off to the left, Easy Company was placed on the extreme left flank, crossing a flat field in broad daylight. About two hundred yards before we encountered the roadblock, we came under intense machine gun fire. The Germans stopped us dead in our tracks. Nixon and I hit the ground simultaneously. When he did, he took off his helmet and saw that a bullet had pierced it. Nixon had a smile on his face. Here's a guy who came under enemy fire and laughed about it. Of course that night, Nix got roaring drunk.

In hindsight, Nix probably needed me as much as I needed him. He was undoubtedly the coolest man under fire whom I ever encountered in combat."

From “Conversations with Major Dick Winters.”

[luminouslywriting]

hello, how are you feeling? Your Band of Brothers headcanons are amazing so I was wondering if you could do a headcanon of "how the guys would react if they were in a company-wide meeting and as soon as the reader walks in, they fall over", I feel like it would be a good idea Hahaha. Thank you very much for your attention on this request, I understand if you can't do it but I hope so.💕

Hey Nonny!! I'm doing much better today :) thank you for asking! How are you sweetheart? Sorry this has taken so long to get to! Hopefully you enjoy!

Cut for length, more under the cut, short paragraph form:

Dick Winters:

-This man is so embarrassed but he's doing his best to move on with the meeting and pretends like nothing happened. He really will just straight up have this moment haunt him though because he did NOT need to oust his crush on you that publicly to his men. An oomph moment for sure.

Lewis Nixon:

-Can easily play it off for kicks and giggles? He blames it on being tipsy and then just attempts to move on because he doesn't like people staring at him for too long, especially in his embarrassing moments. He also adds some light flirting into the conversation later.

Ronald Speirs:

-Literally doesn't fall over?? I'm sorry, but there's just no way that this man would do that unless he was intentionally tripped (and then someone is surely getting murdered haha).

Buck Compton:

-Slightly embarrassed but has his friends dust him off and plays it off with a joke about something more embarrassing from his college days. It unfortunately lives rent-free in his head though and now he's realizing that you saw that and you'll likely remember it forever. Oof for sure.

Carwood Lipton:

-Quickly gets back up and doesn't make a big deal about it. But on the inside? Oh this man is suppressing a major blush and is just trying to focus on the meeting at hand. If anyone ever brings it up to him in the future, he has a face of exasperation and has likely heard all of the jokes about it already.

Joe Liebgott:

-No one is surprised??? Like that man fell over so quickly when you walked in and they were all just *smh fr*. But he just tries to catch your attention and catch your eye during the meeting so he can figure out what you thought of the entire thing/if you'll ever give him a chance lol. The answer is yes, but he should just ask you himself.

Donald Malarkey:

-Gets teased relentlessly by his friends but he's lowkey too lovesick to care?? He's also just silently hoping that you didn't see him completely fall over because that was an accident and he was just leaning a little too far as he tried to watch you walk in. That's his bad, but hopefully you missed that.

Eugene Roe:

-Not a single person says anything. Not a single person even acts like they saw it. This man's embarrassing moment lives in only his own brain because not a single person thought it was because of you. And that's their medic who they respect the hell out of. He's slightly mortified and grumbling, but he'll get over it.

Bill Guarnere:

-Gets teased lightly by some close friends but he's out here with a death glare for anyone that tries to bring it up in general. He was also embarrassed and quickly got up. He shut up and paid attention during the meeting....but he also snuck looks over at you to make sure that you didn't see it haha.

Joe Toye:

-Not a single person dares to tease this man about it. He's ready to throw hands and bring up their embarrassing moments if they try. But there are a few people that might mention your name and your reaction to get a light level of blush on this man's face. Oops?

George Luz:

-Immediately shaded by everyone he's ever joked about. Immediately makes a joke to make everyone laugh and keep the situation light-hearted. And if you laugh at the joke? His fall was well worth it to see your smile or laugh haha.

[sapphickorro]

Black Sheep´ˎ˗

Pairing(s) - intersex!virgin!Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader

summary: The mysterious girl of the campus shows up to a party for the first time, turns out you’re the first person to get to know her in more ways than one.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, blow jobs, frat party, college!reader and college!natasha, loss of virginity, first time, natasha has a dick, dirty talk, smut

word count:  2,308

ao3 - masterlist

End of exam parties were a big thing at your university. Friends of friends were invited to one giant frat house to celebrate the last major party before winter break. There’d be so many partygoers to the point that people would start to shift outside to the front lawn to party. You were sat on a couch scoping the room out for a potential hookup. Your friend group surrounded you talking about menial things until your friend’s voice broke you out of your trance. 

“Holy shit, is that Natasha Romanoff?” 

You twist your head to the area they were all looking at. A red haired girl was standing by the door with a red cup in her hand clearly looking as if she didn’t want to be there. She was dressed like a secret agent trying not to be spotted. A completely black attire topped off with a black leather jacket. 

Natasha Romanoff was the black sheep of the campus. She wasn’t shy, she was just reserved. Never raising her hand to answer questions in class, never going out of her way to make friends. If you had books in your hands and needed a door opened, she would never be the one to go out of her way to open it. 

She was the definition of mysterious, having no social media, no friend group, and always wearing those wired earbuds to drown the world out. You would either think she was weird or extremely attractive. She was definitely easy on the eyes so most girls on the campus were caught fawning over her, wanting to be the one to break her cold facade. 

“I’m surprised she decided to show up.” Your friends started talking about the stories they heard about her, whether they were true or not. 

“Well I think you should go talk to her.” Darcy, one of your closest friends, nudges your elbow catching you staring at her. 

“I don’t know…she seems like she’d want to be left alone.” You turn to look back at your friend.

“Maybe she secretly has a warm gooey side to her that someone needs to unlock. I would try but I don’t know if Jane would be very happy with me flirting with her.”  

“You know what else is warm and gooey?” Your other friend, Valkyrie says. You roll your eyes as everyone around you starts to laugh at the innuendo. “Alright, I’m gonna ditch you guys and hang out with a MUCH cooler person.” You get up to walk to Natasha and you hear your friends cheering you on behind you. 

Your brain goes through every possible thing to say to her but when you finally reach her, all that comes out of your mouth is, “Hey.” 

She stares at you and you falter under her gaze. Every ounce of confidence leaving you at the awkwardness of the situation. “I didn’t see you as a party type of person.” You add, trying to get a conversation flowing between the two of you. 

She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. She just stares at you as if she didn’t understand what you were saying. “Okay! Good talk. Have fun!” You say throwing up finger guns and slowly backing out of there. You hide yourself behind the crowd of dancers at the center of the house and speed walk back to your friend group. 

You friends notice you and start to berate you with questions.”What did she smell like?” “No, better yet, what did she sound like? Does she have an accent?” “Was she as cool as we imagined?” 

“She didn’t say anything, she just stared at me.” You say grabbing your drink off the coffee table and chugging it. You tell your friends about everything that happened in the short three minutes that you were there and they burst into a laughing fit.

“Wait, you threw up FINGER GUNS?” Darcy grabs your shoulders, shaking you. “You have absolutely no game. No wonder she just stared at you.” Monica adds.

“Okay, guys. What if English isn’t her first language and she was staring at Y/N because she didn’t understand what she was saying. What if she’s so mysterious because she literally doesn’t speak English.” Kate tries to pitch in with everyone replying with mixed reactions.

“Why would she attend an all American college IN America if she didn’t understand English. I’m calling b.s.” Monica logics back and everyone breaks into an argument about what they think Natasha’s story was. You were just glad that they dropped how embarrassing your interaction with her was. 

The party was slowly fizzling out. People had left to go get food or to have hookups. Thor and Carol thought it’d be fun to have all the remaining people play a game of seven (or more) minutes in heaven.

You’re all sat on the floor of the guest bedroom in the house and a glass bottle gets placed in the middle. “Alright, is everyone playing?” Thor asks as he takes his seat.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice red hair walk in and stand by the door frame.

“Natasha, you playing?” He asks and doesn’t receive an answer back. The silence becomes awkward as he lets out a cough and says, “Okay then, I assume this means Natasha is playing.”  

Everyone takes turns spinning the bottle, some people returning from the closet with their clothes wrinkled and hair messy. When it becomes your turn, you cross your fingers hoping for someone you knew to hopefully ease the awkwardness. 

It lands on Natasha and everyone gasps. You watch as she walks to the closet and you stand up following suit. Your friends hoot and holler behind you.

When you enter the closet, you notice how there’s enough room for four people to fit but no more. You close the door behind you and you quickly open your mouth. “You know, we don’t have to do-”

“I’m sorry about earlier.” She nonchalantly says to you, causing your eyes to widen by a fraction. You quickly relax trying to not make the atmosphere as awkward as it was earlier. 

“I wasn’t sure what to say because I think you’re very attractive. I’m not used to pretty girls trying to talk to me.” For the first time, you catch her looking down at the ground. Her hands folded in front of her chest. 

“You think I’m pretty?” She lightly nods and your face warms up. “But you’ve only just met me. I’m sure there’s many other girls who are very pretty and try to talk to you.”

“Actually, I knew you before the party. You sit in front of me in bio class.” Natasha looks up at you again, her face is emotionless, making you unsure about how she actually feels. 

“You…noticed me?” You’re surprised that Natasha Romanoff was more perspective than you and everyone else thought she was. You’re even more surprised that she’s admitting to admiring you.

“Is that creepy?” You hear a tint of nervousness in her voice and quickly ease her worries. 

“No, not at all! I’m just. Surprised.” You’re unsure of what to do with your hands so you start to fidget around, trying to avoid her intense gaze. “What are you doing at this party then?” You finally break the silence.

“My sister urged me to come.” 

“Who’s your sister?” Your curiosity peaks as you might be one of the first people to ever hold such a long conversation with her. 

“I’m older than her but she’s more popular than me, her name’s Yelena.” Your eyes widen in shock. “Yelen Belova is your sister?!” She answers with a nod, unsurprised that you’ve heard of her sister. 

Yelena Belova was a stark contrast to Natasha. She’s extremely popular for the parties she hosts and her easygoing attitude. Her social media presence is also astounding. She helps fundraise for the university racking in thousands of dollars yearly. Her influence on the school helps her escape from situations that normal people would be expelled for. She most likely played a big role in helping set up this giant frat party. 

“You’re like, so different from her though.” You notice her apprehension about talking about her sister and decide to drop the topic. “I think you’re way cooler than her though.” 

She smiles for the first time and it makes you feel butterflies in your stomach. 

“Can I…kiss you?” She asks for your permission and you blink at her unsure if you heard her right. “Nevermind, I didn’t mean to make this weird-” You’re the one to cut her off this time, taking her lips into yours. Her hands stay awkwardly at her sides and take initiative to place them onto your hips. You move your own hands down her chest, starting to take off her leather jacket.

You stick your tongue into her mouth and she pulls back, her face flushed. “Sorry, did I go too far?” You quickly apologize, moving your hands away from her jacket.

“No!” She yells a little too loudly. “Sorry, I meant. No. It’s just, I’ve never done something like this.” Her pale face is flushed and she’s already out of breath.

“Done what?” You question her further. 

“I’ve never. Been with someone…intimately.” She admits quietly, shying away from your eyes.

“Oh. We can stop if you want.” 

“No, I want to keep going.” Natasha’s hold on you tightens. You smile at her, feeling special that she trusts you enough to be her first.

“Well, tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” You pull away from her grip to start undressing yourself. You give her a show as you slowly unzip your bodycon dress. She stares at your body as your braless chest gets freed. She practically drools over your breasts. 

You chuckle and get closer to her. “You see something you like?” She nods slowly, her eyes widening slightly. 

“You can touch.” You grab her fists and relax them, lifting them up to your chest allowing her to cup them. When she starts to experiment by rubbing her thumbs over your hardened nipples, you exaggerate a moan causing her face to redden again. Her breaths come out rugged and heavy. 

You lean in to capture her lips again, slowly moving your hands down to her bulge and lightly rubbing the hardon that protrudes out from her jeans. She whimpers in your mouth. 

You pull back and start to kiss down her neck. She moves her head slightly to the right to give you more room to mark. “W-what if they kick us out for taking too long.” She barely gets her words out.

“Oh baby, youre Natasha fucking Romanoff. They'd give you all the time in the world.” You smirk into her neck and move your hands to start undressing her. She helps you out by removing her jacket and pulling off her shirt from over her head revealing her abs and toned muscles. 

“Wow.” You whisper out. Now you’re the one to admire her body and she cowers under your gaze. You run your hands down her body to her covered cock. 

You kneel down onto your knees slowly unzipping her jeans. Once they slide off, you palm her noticeable bulge forming a tent in her boxers. She jerks her hips up at your touch and she whines out, “Please Y/N.” 

You decide to not tease her any longer and pull her boxers down. Her cock stands straight and pulses at the blood rushing through it. You slide your hand down the member and she groans at finally being touched. Your tongue swipes around her tip collecting all of her precum onto your mouth.

You moan at her taste before swooping in and taking her full length into your mouth. 

“F-fuck.” Natasha’s hands go back to her awkwardly placing them by her side and you pull out to her disapproval. 

“Guide me.” You place her hands behind your head. “What if I hurt you?” You chuckle at her.

“I may gag a bit but that’s only because you’re so big. I don’t want you to stop until my face goes blue and I’m crying. Use me like a fleshlight.” You smirk up at her and begin kitten licking her tip. She bites her lip slowly pushing your head onto her cock again. You can tell she’s nervous but with your words, she slowly moves your head back and forth more. 

Her confidence builds along with her pleasure. The small room is filled with her grunts and the noises of your ministrations on her. 

You stare up at her with doe eyes, drool running down your mouth. Natasha’s face is flushed and her eyes are hooded. She stares at you lustfully.

You start to play with her balls and maneuver your tongue so she feels even better. She contorts her face, “I’m gonna-”

She’s unable to finish her sentence as liquid floods into your mouth. You swallow every last drop until she lets go of your head with a pop. 

“Fuck.” She says catching her breath as you clean off your mouth with your hand. After she calms down from her orgasm, the two of you get dressed. 

“Where are you going?” She asks you while putting her jacket back on. “Home, you should come with. We have all of winter break to be together.” You wink at her before opening the door and walk through the people still sitting there, having abandoned the game and now just talking about plans for their break. 

They quiet down, noticing the two of you walk through the crowd and out the door. Natasha follows behind like a lost puppy. “You think they noticed?” She whispers to you.

“Oh, they for sure did.” You respond as you feel the phone in your hands start vibrating with notifications from your group chat. 

[bleedingcoffee42]

The only thing I'm taking away from all of these new files is that the men of Easy company gossiped like a bunch of highschoolers.

And I love it.

THEY DID. And it doesn't help that Ambrose has an agenda for the interviews which is A)Talk shit about Sobel B)Tell me about Mr. Mysterious Ron Spears and I'll cut you off if you actually liked him C)Was Lewis Nixon always drunk? D) fangirl over Webster and try to get the guy he was interviewing to agree with him.

AND Then there was the reunion where some guys got a 13 chapter preview and others didn't. THEN the reunion when the book came out which is implied to be like a book club gone nuclear. And all the letters to Ambrose apologizing on behalf of their friends which means it got back to Ambrose somehow the boys were pissed.

AND MY FAVORITE BULLSHIT is the ye old screenshot of private conversations circa 1990s which was Ambrose photocopying everything and sending it to Winters and Winters immediately coming out of the unsuspected sender's mailbox with a folding chair to set them straight, with documentation. Dick sent Lip a nasty letter. Hit General Matheson with a frickin 'Maybe you're old and your memory is shit here is the map to refresh your memory' and the poor West Pointer from Fox company who tried to step in and say Henry Jones was super loved by his men when he died and he didn't remember the patrols going like that only to have Dick slap back. It's wild.

I don't know how these guys survived this book.

And Nix IS the smartest man ever for just Noping out of this bullshit. And Sparky is honestly super polite about it even though Dick goes into harassment territory to get him to talk to Ambrose/Show up for the reunion/get interviewed. I honestly think Ron's wife left the phone off the hook when they went to Montana because her husband already had major heart surgery and was talking he was on death's doorstep and talking to Dick more than likely got him riled up and had him popping blood pressure pills like TicTacs.

I do want to go back in time and fight Ambrose on Lipton's lawn. Chalk it up to an affront on my professionalism for how he conducts interviews. Plus how everyone tried to protect Compton, Ambrose even goes in saying 'I'm not sure how I'm going to write this' and then goes about it in the worst possible way so that his mailbox is filled with Letters of 'YOU CAN NOT PUT THIS IN PRINT'.

But up until this time, up until Ambrose stepped in, they were already all creating these different narratives of how things went down. 30 ft away in one foxhole dudes were probably gossiping.

Buck Taylor was the last one I read who sends Dick a letter and the gist of it it "So..I am not dead like the rumors say. I didn't die in a plane crash in the Pacific. I was working for the CIA. I have no idea where anyone got that?" NO IDEA EITHER man.

It's wild. I'm loving it.

[pfctipper]

My ride was with a good looking, well-spoken man with a very nice car. The conversation was pleasant and normal. Suddenly the man reached over and put his hand on my leg and suggested when we reach Spencer that he would find a nice hotel, treat me to a nice dinner, and that he would make me feel ‘very happy’. This was a ‘first’ in my life. I'd heard of guys like this but to my knowledge never met or talked to one. Immediately, I told him, "Do you see that crossroads up ahead? Stop right there. I am getting out!" He stopped. I got out.

Winters in 1996, recounting his experience of hitchhiking in West Virginia in 1941, in Erik Dorr and Jared Frederick, Hang Tough: The WWII Letters and Artifacts of Major Dick Winters (2020)

[mars-and-the-theoi]

Low energy Devotional Acts for when you don’t have a lot of energy (or time, or money, etc.) pt. 8

🌾Demeter🌾

- if able go on a walk and enjoy the outdoors doesn’t have to be anywhere fancy it could literally just be a walk around the block

- if you can’t go on a walk either sit outside for a bit or just open some windows for some fresh air

- play farming simulator (you think I’m joking but I’m not) or watch vids of ppl playing it

- watch documentaries or do a deep dive on farming and all the stuff that goes with it (maybe you’re wanting to know more about tractors, or farming techniques over the years, etc.)

- if able attend a farmer’s market or look into any that are in your area you don’t necessarily need to buy anything you could just go look around (I do that regularly)

- learn about the role of a farmer and what it’s like to be a farmer (I worked on a farm for a bit in high school and while I loved it I couldn’t do it as a living it takes a very special someone to do it) and look up ways you can support them

- learn about the native plants in your area

- watch foraging videos and learn about it (how to safely do it especially, if it’s something you wish to do at some point)

- if able support local farmers by buying their products (I know here in wi it’s not uncommon for farm stands to pop up this time of year and they sell all sorts of stuff for good prices! One in my town sells the best corn and for only $1 a piece which is perfect)

- point out cows, horses, sheep, goats, etc. while going by them in the car

- learn about homesteading and watch videos about it (though I will issue a heads up that some of these folks veer into uh….’crunchy’ beliefs so just be careful I guess)

- look up recipes you’re interested in trying, try to write your own recipe, or cook something using a family recipe/you’d own recipe if able

- enjoy a fruit, vegetable, or grain/bread product! Have some toast with jelly/jam! Have a salad! A fruit cup! The fruit/veggies can be frozen as well. It’s still that fruit/veggie.

- listen to a devotional playlist for Her

- listen to nature soundscapes

🦉Athena🦉

- learn your rights and by the gods I can’t stress this enough (if you rent learn your tenants rights, learn your workers rights, etc.)

- watch a war movie, show, or documentary (plugging Band of Brothers again because there’s some examples of excellent leadership and all that)

- read or listen to an audiobook about war (can be fiction or nonfiction- my personal favorite is Conversations With Major Dick Winters it’s great)

- listen to a devotional playlist for Her

- is there a weapon you’re interested in? Or maybe a style of combat? Or something else pertaining to combat? Read about it! Watch a video about it!

- if able pick up a handicraft of some sort: knitting, crocheting, sewing, etc.)

- if unable to do that watch tutorial videos for it (I can knit but can’t crochet to save my life but I love watching crocheting videos)

- read or listen to an audiobook about literally anything

- if you’re a student, and are able, do some studying

- or just watch documentaries or read articles and such about stuff that interests you

- if able play a strategy game if unable to do so look up videos for techniques for strategy games you like and pick up some new tricks for when you next play!

- if able do a puzzle (can be as simple or complex as you want)

- if able do something like a word search, sudoko, crossword, etc.

[blurredcolour]

You Arms Pull Me In Like The Tide Pulls Me Under | Epilogue

Your Arms Pull Me In Like The Tide Pulls Me Under Masterlist

Dick Winters x Female SOE Agent!Reader

The end of the war is just the beginning of the rest of your lives.

Photo Credit: East Islip Historical Society

Warnings: Discussion of War Hardships, Permanent Injury/Disability, Holiday Party Setting, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Language, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Note: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal of Dick Winters by Damian Lewis. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within. Non-English is denoted in italics.

Word Count: 1244

-------------------------

Nixon, New Jersey – December 20, 1946

The sprawling home of Stanhope Nixon was overflowing with guests, alcohol, and music as the annual Nixon Nitration Works holiday party was in full swing. Catering staff were milling about with silver trays of canapés and champagne while the management staff and their wives ate, drank, and made merry amongst the millwork and art that adorned Lewis’s father’s New Jersey home.

Lewis himself was busy playing host alongside his father, with his British war bride Irene in tow, as Dick kindly introduced you to his immediate supervisor. The modest diamond engagement ring and matching wedding band on your left ring finger refracted the light against the glass of champagne Lewis had planted in your hand upon your arrival, snagging your attention as it still tended to do, even eight months on.

The end of the war had come around the same time for you and Dick, with the Japanese surrender for him and with your discharge from Major Wilke’s command upon the arrival of the Allied prosecutorial team in Nuremberg furnished with a fleet of translators freshly released from Bletchley Park and other frontline duties. It had been bittersweet to be no longer needed, but as you had admitted to Dick that dreamy summer day in Austria, you were quite finished with your time in Europe.

It had taken over five months for Europe to let you go, however. Returning to England had been the easy part, your uncle’s widow in Oxford welcoming you back with open arms. With your more ambiguous service record under CWAC, however, return to Canada had taken rather longer. Priority on troop ships was naturally given to the boys in uniform, and then the girls who had enlisted in Canada. You had waited impatiently for your turn, working with your aunt to alter the wedding gown she had squirreled away from her own marriage in 1936. It had been her hope for her own daughter to wear it someday, but she had insisted as you were the closest thing she would ever have to such a person now, you ought to have it. So, it had become your joint project to turn it into something more modern for whenever you could find yourself standing in front of Dick Winters again.

That chance had not presented itself until March of 1946. Dick had arrived by train in your hometown in Canada, insistent on asking your father’s permission to marry you in person. He brought a ring, as promised, and married you one week later. Immigration paperwork had taken six weeks to clear, but you were grateful that it was nothing like the delay women from overseas endured. By the time you arrived in Nixon, New Jersey, Dick had a modest house and a car waiting for you, true to his word again. By the fall, you’d started offering private French lessons and you and Dick were seriously discussing whether or not you would attend vocational school to become a public-school teacher. Life was good, better than you could have ever imagined.

This party, however, had begun to drag on. Your feet were beginning to hurt as you stood around in your heels and you were feeling the strain of trying keep up with the myriad of conversations swirling around you amid the din of music and laughter. Dick’s hand on your lower back had you turning to him as he leaned into your left ear. “Let me show you the library.” His thumb swept along the fabric of your dress soothingly and you nodded gratefully as he excused you both.

Leading you down the hallway confidently, you wondered how many times he had been in this house, but felt your shoulders relax as the oppressive wall of sound faded away behind you. Guiding you around a corner, you couldn’t help but gasp as you stepped into a room filled with an expansive collection of leatherbound books, a fire laid in a stone hearth with a cozy seating area in front anchoring the space.

“Did we just find heaven?” You whispered conspiratorially and he chuckled as he kissed your temple, leading you to sit on an overstuffed leather sofa.

Setting down your now-empty glass on the low table in front of you, you sighed as you pressed a thumb between your brows. “I’m sorry it was so obvious I was having a hard time in there.” You apologized softly.

Sliding an arm around your shoulders, he gave a gentle squeeze. “Only to me, honey.” He assured you.

The sound of footsteps in the hall had both your heads turning sharply, concerned your sanctuary was about to be disrupted, but it was only Lewis who appeared in the doorway. “I thought I saw you two sneak off here.” He smirked, a glass of whisky in one hand and a bottle of Canada Dry ginger ale in the other. Kicking the door shut behind him, he came to sit in one of the armchairs across from the pair of you.

“Apparently we were not as subtle as we hoped.” You laughed as he poured half the bottle into your empty glass before handing the remainder to Dick, raising his own glass of amber liquid in a toast.

“Happy Holidays.”

“Happy Holidays, Lew.” Dick replied before your glassware came together in an awkward symphony of mismatched ‘clinks’ before you each took an appreciative sip.

“And to think we spent the last few scattered hither and yon.” Lewis remarked.

“Eating potatoes…” you muttered.

“Or nothing at all.” Dick added thoughtfully.

“Couldn’t get beef, Vat 69…nylons…” Lewis gave a nod in your direction, and you glanced at the closed door before eyeing him over the rim of your glass.

“Oh, I suppose it was a bit of a nuisance, but I honestly did appreciate having silk in my parachutes.” You took a leisurely sip, waiting for his reaction.

It unfolded slowly, his eyes widening before he sucked in a breath laced with droplets of his treasured whisky before coughing violently, pointing at you. “I knew it.” He wheezed eventually as you tried not to laugh too brightly at his expense. Dick held no such qualms, laughing richly beside you.

“Of course you did, you saw my last day firsthand.”

“But you finally admitted it! Please, you have to tell me everything…” He leaned forward eagerly, and you swallowed, wishing more than anything that you could.

There was still a great deal you hadn’t even shared with Dick; The Official Secrets Act preventing you from divulging anything. How you longed to share everything with them – the training schools in Scotland, the slosh of an aggressive amount of rum in your belly as you had fallen no more than ten seconds to hit the ground outside Lyon, your harrowing journey across the Pyrenees mountains into Spain to find passage back to England with your fresh side wound nagging at every step. The determination that had driven you back to Normandy just weeks after you return to London, and the eight months of exhausting, tension-laced work that had preceded their arrival. How you longed to share everything, to commiserate and to laugh. To be honest.

“Someday, Lewis. Someday it won’t be treason to talk about it and I will tell you everything.” You promised.

“To someday, then.” He grinned, raising his glass in another toast. “And believe me I will hold you to that.”

Laughing warmly, you raised yours in return. “To someday.”

-------------------------

Your Arms Pull Me In Like The Tide Pulls Me Under Masterlist

Tag list: @allthingsimagines, @bcon24

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! Part 28 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

This is the final part of episode 9. I have been putting off writing this for so long cause the episode makes me so sad, and writing it was even worse. Just a constant state of depression while writing this ngl. But it's ok, I finished it. I'm also scared cause that means we are getting to the end of the story and I kinda don't want it to end. But we must have a conclusion. We still have a whole episode to go and who knows what will happen.

This is in means no way to offend anyone.

Disclaimer: End part of episode 9, if you are not comfortable with this please don't read.

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, not hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @imusicaddict, anyone else please let me know.

The bed of the truck was silent, everyone hung their heads, or quietly shed their tears. I clutched onto Don’s hand as we rode back into town. 

We loaded out of the trucks and into the deli we had parked in front of. We grabbed all the food from the shop, wheels of cheese, bread, meats, anything we could get our hands on. 

I loaded bread into baskets, carrying them under my arms making my way back to the vehicles. I walked past Web in the entrance pinning down the owner of the shop, a gun pressed to his neck. 

“Web!” I exclaimed, rushing over to the two men. 

The owner rambled in German, trying to get out of the situation that Webster had him in. 

“Web, let him go!” I tried to get into his eye line but his focus was on the man, I could see the rage in his eyes. 

“He says he doesn’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” Another soldier told him. 

“Bullshit!” Web spat. Finally loosening his grip on the man and stepping away, stowing his gun back in its holster, stomping out the front door. 

I watched the owner try and regain his panicked breath, before I too left. 

Hands reached out, scrambling for the food we provided. I gave out bread to as many people as I could, I hesitated to give the cheese and meats we had taken.

These men hadn’t been fed in weeks, maybe even longer, if we gave them rich food they would get sick. We needed to give them rations, only small portions, if we gave them full meals it could be deadly. 

“Major Winters.” I called to the man as he handed out bread to the prisoners. He stopped turning to face me. 

“Yes?” Dick asked moving closer to the edge of the truck to where I stood. 

“Sir, we need to be cautious of how much food we are giving the prisoners. If we feed them too much they could die. Also we just need to be giving out bread and water. Any other rich food causes them to get sick as well.” His brows furrowed as I informed him. 

Nixon and Winters looked at me as if I had grown two heads, but before I could open my mouth to explain further Colonel Skin called to the men. 

I made my way back to the group, ushering the men who had food away from the trucks so that others could come and get food as well. 

It wasn’t long until Nix and Dick made their way back to the trucks after conversing with the Colonel. 

“Lieb.” Winters called out to Joe, who was handing out food to the prisoners. I watched him leap from the truck and push through the crowd past me to meet with the pair. 

They spoke in hushed tones, Winters did most of the talking while Nix’s eyes glanced around nervously. Lieb stood strangely still, taking in all the information that was being given to him. Joe shook his head with a grim look on his face, I couldn’t hear what he said but he didn’t seem happy with whatever it was they were going to make him translate to the men. 

He bowed his head, giving a begrudging nod before turning back to face the trucks. I stood within the crowd watching him. He moved slowly through the men, not pushing or asking people to move. It was as if he didn’t want to make it to the destination he was heading. 

I glanced back to Dick, who was speaking to Grant and Christenson, more words exchanged, more reluctant head nods. 

Lieb’s loud voice pulled my focus. He stood on the back of the truck yelling in German, trying to get everyone’s attention. 

A hand landed on my shoulder, I didn’t have time to glimpse who it was, their face moved closer to my ear. 

“We are locking the prisoners back up, be prepared.” Grant whispered, he didn’t wait around for my reply, moving to the next soldier to give the same message. 

I stepped back out of the crowd, Easy had already surrounded the prisoners while Lieb began to speak. 

The prisoners cried in protest, shaking their heads in disbelief, but before they could even try to put up a fight the men moved them forward, pushing them closer to the hell they were just freed from, only to be locked up again by their so-called saviours.     

I looked away from the awful scene, to lay eyes on Lieb. He had finished his announcement, crumpling into the bed of the truck in defeat. His chest heaved, sobs leaving mouth. 

I was in the bed of the truck in seconds, clambering in as quickly as I could to kneel in front of Joe. I wrapped my arms around him pulling him into my embrace, I clung to him as he wept. His warm tears dripped down my neck as he crushed me to his chest. I didn’t utter a word, I couldn’t think of anything to say to make the situation better. So I just held him, my hand tangling in his hair at the nape of his neck, the other rubbed circles on his back trying to sooth his pain. 

But I don’t think much would ease the hurt, this is something that he would have to carry with him until the day he died. 

*************************************

“Em, come on, let’s go.” Babe knelt in front of me, his warm hands on my arms. I looked up from the floor to find we were back in the village. 

“They have dinner for us inside.” Babe urged, giving me a squeeze. I nodded my head, finding my feet to stand and get out of the bed of the truck. My autopilot had been turned off, now everything felt manual. Even the parts that weren’t, in and out, keep breathing. 

I sat at the end of the table with my hands in my lap. I stared down into the bowl of soup that had been placed in front of me. The sight of food churned my stomach, I closed my eyes willing the nausea to pass. The room spun and the smell of the camp wouldn’t leave my brain. Saliva filled my mouth as my teeth began to violently chatter, there was no stopping it. 

I sprung to my feet, hand gripping my mouth begging the contents of my stomach to stay put so I could make it outside. 

I hid behind the side of the house we boarded at heaving and gagging. I spat the taste from the mouth, leaning against the wall for support. 

A handkerchief was thrusted under my face, I looked up to see who had followed me outside. But it wasn’t one of the men. Speirs stood still holding out the cloth for me to take, a sad smile plaguing his lips. 

“Thanks.” I sniffed, taking the handkerchief and wiping my running nose. After I was done I handed it back to him. 

“You keep it.” Spiers pushed it back towards me. 

“Oh right, you probably don’t want my snot all over it.” I pocketed the material. 

“Do you want to sit?” Speirs asked, motioning his head towards the bench further down the side of the house. 

“Sure.” I nodded making my way to the seat. 

We sat in silence for a bit, watching soldiers pass us by. I was glad to be outside and not still sitting at the table. 

“Are you doing ok?” Ron broke the comfortable silence. I looked over, his eyes were still trained on the world ahead of him. 

“No.” I replied. I thought about lying, making excuses, saying other people were having it worse, but I chose the truth. Ron knew me well, it seemed like more work to be deceptive. 

“How about you?” I asked, keeping my eyes straight ahead at the view before us. 

“Yeah, not great either.” He said quietly. I bit my lip, guess he figured the same as me. Lying to each other was a waste of time. 

“I feel awful about locking them up again. I know it’s to keep them safe and alive, but we had teased them with freedom, only to put them back into that nightmare.” I rambled on, my feelings finally spilling from my lips. 

“Me too.” Speirs agreed, his hand reached over to mine. Ron took my hand giving it a squeeze, before putting it in his lap. 

“There are more.” He said sadly as he traced circles in my palm. “Some are worse.” 

I nodded as I listened to him speak. 

“But you already knew that.” I quickly turned my attention back to the man, a questioning look on my face, how did he?

“I spoke to Malarkey. He told me that the nurses had heard rumours about the camps.” He informed me. 

“Oh.” I said, sighing in relief, for a split second I thought he had somehow figured out my secret.  

“What are we going to do?” I wondered out loud. Maybe Ron had some answers to my questions. 

“Well we are leaving, but the locals here are going to be made to bury the bodies. General Taylor is going to be issuing martial law soon. Every able bodied German here will be made to clean up tomorrow morning.” Speirs replied. 

“There are so many to bury. Who’s making sure that they follow martial law?” I asked.  

“I know, but it’s what's right. Those people need to be laid to rest. And to answer your question, the 10th Armored are going to supervise.” Speirs placed my hand back into my own lap, before standing. I looked up at the man, the sad smile again on his lips. Ron cupped my cheek gently, his thumb tracing my cheekbone before walking off. 

I sat outside for a time longer, watching people pass me by. Soon night fell and I made my way back into the house, to rest. I didn’t think sleep would be so kind to take me tonight, so I laid on the bed staring at the ceiling above me, waiting patiently for the sun to rise again. 

We sat in a bombed out building overlooking what used to be the town square, rubble and debris covered the ground. We watched as the locals slowly cleaned, a quartet had formed in the middle of it all. They played sad songs, it was hauntingly beautiful. 

The men smoked as they watched, no one spoke, only looked on. Nixon appeared beside me, he looked solemn. Lew took a beat before speaking.

“Hitler’s dead.” It wasn’t a joyous announcement, his tone remained steady, no smile formed behind his eyes, it was just a fact. 

Nix caught our attention though, everyone’s head swivelled in his direction, looking to see if he was telling us the truth. 

“Holy shit.” Lieb whispered. 

“Shot himself in Berlin.” Nix finished his statement. 

“Is the war over, sir?” Bull asked hesitantly, hopefully. 

“No.” Lew was never one to mince his words, or put them prettily. He was straight to the point, didn’t matter if he hurt your feelings or not, he would say it how it was. 

Still it crushed the shreds of hope we all felt momentarily blossom in our chests. 

“We have orders to Berchtesgaden. We’re going to move out in one hour.” Lew informed us. I sighed more orders, how was there more? 

“Why? The man’s not home.” Web asked, I nodded thinking the same thing. Couldn’t this all be over by now? 

Nonetheless we all got up from our perches and made our way out of the building. Web went on about how the man should’ve killed himself three years ago to save us all the trouble. 

“You all good?” Lieb nudged me. I nodded. 

“Just tired.” But that’s not what I meant. I was tired, but it wasn’t due to the lack of sleep from last night, I was tired. I just want to go home, but ironically I don’t even have one. 

“Let’s just get this over with.” I looped my arm through Lieb’s as we left the building making our way back so we could pack up and move out. 

-------------------------------------

Chapter 29

[energysoda]

Could we perhaps get William afton x chubby reader?

Thank you in advance if you end up taking this request <3

Yes of course!! :)

CW: William Afton behavior (murderer, controlling, stalking, etc), some sexual themes towards the end

William Afton x Chubby Reader Headcanons (Gender-Neutral)

You were at a local bar with some of your friends from work, and William happened to be sitting nearby

To be honest, he ended up eavesdropping in on your conversation

You admittedly piqued his interest, and as the night went on and your work friends made the dick move to abandon you, he took the opportunity to strike up a conversation and buy you a drink

After that, to your surprise he asked you out on a date to which you agreed and the relationship escalated from there

He is very protective of you, and kills anyone who is rude to you, upsets you, harasses you, etc.

(Which, the work friends who ditched you at the bar, end up going missing... bro did not let that slide)

This protectiveness over you is probably heightened too by the fact that he himself spent the majority of his life overweight and so he knows what it's like to be treated worse because of it (and it makes him incredibly angry to see you automatically treated badly by others just because of your weight)

He lowkey stalks you, his internal justification of it is that he's watching over you 'like a guardian angel' but tbh it's creepier than that

Would convince you to quit your job and work at the pizzeria just so he can be in closer proximity to you more of the time (mans is kinda clingy as well as needy tbh. if he couldn't convince you to quit your job he'd orchestrate a way for your employer to fire you...)

In winter especially he is a stage five clinger; he gets cold easily so he fucking attaches himself onto you like a parasite to keep warm (that's his excuse to you at least, but you know it's also because he loves physical contact with you)

William is actually pretty decent at sewing, and he loves making clothes for you (part of that is because his mind sort of sees it as claiming you)

Also, if there are any clothes you want that you can't find in your size he will make something 1000x better just for you, and if any of your clothes fit weird, he'll help tailor them to fit you better

(image of him hovering around you with pins in his mouth, eyes deep in focus as he pins fabric in place on you-- honestly would be very distracting for you to go thru this man is so fine istg)

He loves marking you up (with kisses, hickies, cuts, bruises, etc) and he loves how there's a lot of space on you for him to do so much in that regard

He is so down bad for you like you live rent free in this mans mind 24/7, he is extremely attracted to you and he doesn't think he's needed anyone else more than he needs you

Sex with William can be pretty intense, he loves ravaging you fr

Also big praise kink and fan of body worship (giving or receiving-- either way he loves it)

He's also very vocal during sex, man groans and rambles and shit, letting out praises and obscenities while he fucks you

After sex he loves cuddling, and watching you as you fall asleep while he plants soft kisses on you and pets your hair

Yeah, he likes watching you while you sleep (kinda creepy but also oddly endearing: a general theme with him)

[roseslaces]

Dick smiled when he mentioned the next NCO. “And then there was Floyd Talbert. He had it all. We developed a personal friendship dating back to Toccoa. He was athletic and dedicated. You knew if your life were on the line, he would come through. At Toccoa, he was in 3rd Platoon, not mine. On the march to Atlanta, Talbert was slugging along with a machine gun. Behind him was Walter Gordon, who was supposed to carry the gun. I can still see the determination on Talbert’s face. I promoted him to sergeant in Normandy. During the counterattack at Carentan, he held the right flank along the railroad. After Normandy, I promoted him to platoon sergeant when Carwood Lipton took over as company first sergeant. When Lipton received a battlefield commission later in the war, Talbert became first sergeant. He couldn’t work with Captain Speirs—you will have to read his letter to see why he turned in his stripes. Talbert claimed that he was always comparing Speirs to me. We simply had different leadership styles, but I guess I should be flattered. I wrote to DeEtta about Talbert after the war. I told her that I was going deer hunting with an old sergeant of mine from Easy Company. That sergeant was Talbert. It wasn’t the hunt as much as I just enjoyed being around this guy. We didn’t have to talk to enjoy each other’s company, nor did we have to talk in combat or during a battle. A word or two, or a wave of the hand, and we knew precisely what the other guy was thinking. That makes working just lovely. Of the enlisted soldiers in E Company, Talbert is the only one whom I would classify as a friend. These are the ones you always remember. The men who do their best, you never forget them.”

Conversations with Major Dick Winters -  Cole C. Kingseed

[evidenceof]

[...] I was so lonely that I needed someone in whom I could confide my inner thoughts. That someone was Nix. Whenever the bullets began to fly, I could turn around and there stood Nix. - Conversations with Major Dick Winters

Capt. Lewis Nixon, Major Dick Winters - Spot Dog by The Japanese House

[Video elements inspired by @staud]

[shelyue99]

A timeline re the friendship between Dick Winters and Lewis Nixon, in Dick’s own words.

Officer Candidate School(OCS), Fort Benning, April 1942

During my time at OCS one of the officer candidates caught my attention. Lewis Nixon was the son of privilege and wealth. Born September 30, 1918, Nixon was the grandson of the last man to design a battleship as an individual. Educated at Yale and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, "Nix" was far more educated than most of the members of the class. —Beyond Band of Brothers

Toccoa, August 1942

Later we served as platoon leaders under Sobel's command. A special bond always exists among the platoon commanders in any military company, particularly when they perceive their own commander as 'the enemy.' I stayed in Easy Company, but Nix was transferred to higher headquarters. He drank too much, but he was also very conscientious. He was conscientious in his own way, on a man-to-man basis, and he always looked at what would best benefit the battalion. —Conversations with Major Dick Winters

Camp Mackall, February 1943

In addition, a number of Easy Company's officers were transferred to battalion staff, including Lewis Nixon, Clarence Hester, and George Lavenson. As I had grown quite fond of Nixon, I was sad to see him leave Easy Company. —Beyond Band of Brothers

Normandy, June 1944

"Nix" and I completely understood each other. We possessed a common understanding about leadership, of how troops should be employed, and how battles should be fought. On reflection, Nixon always seemed to be around. We had known each other from our days in Officer Candidate School at Fort Benning and at Toccoa, but our friendship was not cemented until Normandy.

After the fight at Brecourt, I had requested additional ammunition for my men. When none arrived, I went to battalion headquarters myself, where I saw Colonel Strayer and his staff studying the map that I had found on one of the guns. I blew my top, which was totally inappropriate considering my rank. Nixon, however, was instrumental in obtaining that ammunition. Later, when we aboard the LST returning from France, he approached me and asked that I deliver a lecture on leadership to the rest of the officers at battalion. That caught my attention. —Beyond Band of Brothers

Holland, Septembre 1944

By the time we jumped into Holland, I was so lonely that I needed someone in whom I could confide my inner thoughts. That someone was Nix. Whenever the bullets began to fly, I could turn and there stood Nix. He always walked on my left side, one or two steps behind me. This was his token of respect for me as a commander. —Conversations with Major Dick Winters

From a personal standpoint, I would have been devastated had Nixon been killed. As a leader you do not stop and calculate your losses during combat. You cannot stop a fight and ask yourself how many casualties you have sustained. You calculate losses only when the fight is over. Ever since the second week of the invasion, casualties had been my greatest concern. Victory would eventually be ours, but the casualties that had to be paid were the price that hurt. In that regard Nixon seemed a special case.

As different in temperament as Nixon and I were, he was the one man to whom I could talk. He provided an outlet that allowed me to unburden myself as a combat leader. —Beyond Band of Brothers

Mourmelon, March 1945

Nixon's return to battalion staff was the result of his repeated drunkenness. Colonel Sink recognized Nixon's tactical brilliance, but he was fed up with his excessive drinking. One day Sink visited me and asked me point-blank, "Can you get along with Nixon?"

"Yes, sir, I can get along with him."

"Can you get something out of him?"

Again I responded, "Yes, sir, we work together very well."

"Would you like to have him back?"

"Yes, sir, I would."

"You've got him."

And that is how Nixon returned to battalion staff. From a personal perspective, it was nice being reunited with Nix. —Beyond Band of Brothers

Mourmelon, March 23, 1945

The 101st was allowed to send observers, so I dispatched Captain Lewis Nixon. Fortunately, for Nixon, he was assigned to be jumpmaster of his aircraft. As he approached the drop zone, his plane was struck by heavy antiaircraft fire. Nixon and three other men made it out of the plane, but the rest were lost when the plane crashed.

Nix remained with the 17th Airborne Division for one night and was then returned to 2d Battalion at Mourmelon on a special plane. Nix's brush with death left him visibly shaken, particularly when at this stage in the war, no one intentionally put himself in danger now that victory was at hand. Captain Nixon found his usual retreat in alcohol that evening, but I was glad to see him safe. —Beyond Band of Brothers

Joigny, September 16, 1945

Capt. Nixon left this week, which makes everything just dandy. I am about as lonesome as a lovesick swab who married a Wave on an eight hour pass. —Hang Tough

On reflection:

On the surface no two individuals were more diametrically opposed in temperament than Nixon and I. I was a confirmed teetotaler and never swore. I preferred a quiet evening in the barracks to the nightlife of Columbus, Georgia, or neighboring Phenix City, Alabama. Despite the differences in lifestyle, I sensed we shared mutual feelings and ways of looking at life. I could understand him and help him understand me, as well as understand himself. Our friendship evolved naturally, and he soon became my closest friend. Lewis Nixon was the finest combat officer with whom I served under fire. He was utterly dependable and totally fearless. —Beyond Band of Brothers

In hindsight, Nix probably needed me as much as I needed him. He was undoubtedly the coolest man under fire whom I ever encountered in combat. —Conversations with Major Dick Winters

[latibvles]

SAD, BEAUTIFUL, TRAGIC.

beautiful, tragic // not yet burned.

you’re my best friend, we’re dancing in this world alone.

masterlist | gallery | taglist

TAGLIST: @liebgotts-lovergirl , @softguarnere , @brassknucklespeirs , @monalisastwin , @mads-weasley , @eugene-emt-roe

SUMMARY: Ginny’s never hated her — that much, Daisy is sure of.

WARNINGS: none.

Like the seasons, and like everybody else — the men in Easy have changed.

They’ve lost fingers or toes, some of them haven’t yet shaved those scruffy beards grown out in Foy and Haguenau. The same men who were so affable and bordering-on-neighborly with replacements in Holland have all but burned down the welcome wagon for whatever sorry replacements join them now in Mourmelon. Even George’s humor edges on dark some days to the point that Daisy isn’t sure anyone who wasn’t there would find it funny.

Some things remain the same.

She watches with keen interest as Joe handles the scissors, trimming away winter shag like the men are preparing for spring cleaning. Haircuts are traded for packs of smokes, the occasional nicer lighter or even money. He stacks them on one of the empty crates, gives Daisy a distracted order to “guard his shit” while he cuts hair, and every now and again glances at her like she might disappear and leave his precious cigarettes to the hands of sticky-fingered privates.

“Used to get weekend passes like this,” Joe admits, his grin almost mimicking that of the man she met a summer ago, but not quite. “Major Winters used to let me cut his hair. He’d gimme ‘em as long as he kept his ear.”

Daisy nods along, amused for a moment, before the thoughts of Dick lapse into thoughts of Ginny and she refocuses her gaze on Joe’s steady glance, offering up a half-distracted “Don’t think that’d work on Captain Speirs.”

They’d be moving into Germany in a few days, attached to Second Battalion again. She, Catherine, and Rita were all briefed on it that morning — making sure their replacements all knew what they were doing and what went where. Daisy wanted to stay, catch Ginny and talk but her word bank must’ve been effectively robbed. She couldn’t think of a thing to say and even if she could, she didn’t want to force herself into what looked like an important conversation between Ginny and Catherine.

She ducked away, tail between her legs. Then she found Joe doing haircuts. Now she’s halfheartedly guarding his loot as manages to conjure up a mohawk for this new replacement with only a pair of scissors. He gave him two packs of cigarettes in exchange.

“What, you won’t talk him into it? Bat your eyelashes and go ‘Oh Captain Speirs, Corporal Liebgott could really use that pass,” He asks once he’s done with the replacement and he’s effectively out of earshot, still keeping his voice a bit low. His voice takes on a higher pitch when he impersonates her, she rolls his eyes.

“I think he’d trust Rita with scissors near his head before you,” Daisy teases, expecting Joe to put a hand over his heart or otherwise feign offense. Instead he grimaces. She raises a brow. “What’s with the face?”

“What face?”

“That face,” she attempts to mimic it, before placing her hands on her hips. “You look pained.” Joe lets out a small huff, walking over and leaning against one of the crates, running his hand through his hair. She stares at him expectantly — he looks like he’s trying to decide if he should open his mouth. “You don’t have to say anything. Just figured I should ask,” Daisy offers, almost lamely.

“Has she talked to you? About anything?”

“Real specific, Joe,” Daisy retorts, ignoring the way he narrows his eyes. “About you? Not really, no.” She watches his jaw clench, and her brows furrow. “Should she be talking to me about something?” He groans, running his fingers through his hair.

“Christ, Dais, I don’t fuckin’ know,” he fumes, like he doesn’t know what to be angry with, so he’s directing it at the air. “Things were fine I think, in Haguenau. Now we’re here and it’s like… like I fuckin’ did something and she’s giving me the cold shoulder instead of saying what it is so I can fix it.” Daisy immediately disregards that possibility. Cold-shoulders were never Rita’s style, at least, not without a five minute verbal lashing predating it, and a blatant scowl whenever someone even associated with the offender is brought up. She presses her lips into a line.

“You two weren’t caught doing anything, were you?” Granted, she doesn’t even know if he knows that they have been caught once already, but Ginny’s ability to lie through her teeth had likely saved Rita from an abrupt transfer. He shakes his head, bowing his head for a moment to bite at his lip.

Joe doesn’t have some type of witty remark or sarcastic comment to throw her way and make her flush pink with embarrassment. But to be fair, he’s dryer than before and not much makes her blush. Still, he looks weighed down in a way she hasn’t seen him before, enough to know that he takes this, Rita, seriously. But of course, even if she knows the reason why – it wouldn’t be her business to speak on. It would be Rita’s.

“For what it’s worth you probably didn’t… do anything. She would’ve said something if you did,” she offers, kicking a rock near their feet and watching it skid over the gravel. “But we’re kind of told to put on a brave face for the rest of you. Better for morale if the nurses are always smiling. So I’d say it wouldn’t hurt to ask her what’s going on when you get the chance.” She leans to her left, bumping their shoulders. “And maybe treat her with all these haircut trinkets.” That makes him snort, rolling his eyes.

“Look at you and your bright fuckin’ ideas.”

“Keep pointing it out and I might start charging you for all this sage advice,” she retorts. Joe reaches to flick her ear, snickering as she swats his hand away. He’s effectively subdued again, resuming his prior stance and staring off.

“Don’t know how you do that shit — putting on a happy face all the time,” his laugh is almost bitter as he shakes his head. “Think I’d go crazy.”

“We get a lot of practice in,” Daisy explains with a shrug, hoping to leave it at that — lest she go into an explanation about how the kids didn’t cry in her house after watching their parents try and fail to keep it all in. “Also I think you have to be a little crazy to do any of this at all. You jumped out of an airplane, Joe.” He snorts at that, rolling his eyes.

“Uh huh, help me bring my stuff back to my rack, kid.”

“The hell’d you just call me?” But Joe doesn’t answer, just taking what he can into his hands and leaving the rest for her to take, snickering when she mutters in feigned offense about being referred to as a kid, and a part of her mind still on Ginny, on their distance, and how she’s supposed to close it like she ought to.

Ginny, who adamantly refuses to acknowledge that she’s upset at all — even though Daisy could so clearly see it. She keep carrying on and she’d let it swallow her whole if she had to.

Daisy figures she really ought to start taking her own advice.

Ginny doesn’t hate her.

Or rather, a more appropriate statement would be: Ginny doesn’t hate her enough to find a different tent, presumably. Or maybe even Ginny doesn’t hate her enough to take another enthusiastic Parisian vacation — and not invite a certain redheaded Major to come along with her.

This is really banking on the fact that Ginny doesn’t hate her, which in theory seems dramatic, but she’s put a lot of stock in her ability to keep Ginny calm, or rather her inability to make Ginny angry. Daisy was lucky that Ginny let her understand everything that went on in her head. So hopefully, she could get it right this time. As she approaches the tent, there’s light leaking through the canvas again — and she can’t help but think of that night with Ron, and the morning after, and how she still feels like she’s stumbling through some prolonged bad dream.

But that was real, and the morning after was real, and the way she snapped on Ginny was real, too.

She pokes her head in, watches wordlessly at Ginny, sat on the edge of the cot, scribbling over sentences on a piece of mail with a pen. Daisy hesitates, watching as she scribbles over words and mutters to herself as she does so. She could leave it for another day, when Ginny isn’t scribbling out sentences like they’ve personally offended her.

“Do you plan to stand there for the next thirty minutes or what?”

Ginny doesn’t have to look at her for Daisy to know she’s the one being addressed. She doesn’t reply, but steps fully into the dimly lit tent. Ginny keeps going, rolling her eyes at the piece of paper and letting out a small sigh as she folds it up and tears open another envelope.

“They still got you censoring mail?”

“Sometimes, yeah.”

Daisy doesn’t sit, not wanting to invade her space, but standing in front of her all the same. Watching, waiting, trying to form a coherent thought but coming up with blanks. This would be when Ginny would allot herself a couple of complaints, a few muttered curses about Peake and about whoever’s mail it was that she was censoring, and Daisy would try to make her laugh and they’d carry on. But Ginny doesn’t even allot herself that. She just keeps scribbling, and Daisy keeps standing there, feeling dumb.

This was easier in her head — where she imagined that if Ginny didn’t want to talk to her she’d just kick her out. But this isn’t what she imagined it to be and she still can’t tell if that's a good thing. Her palms are sweaty, and she feels smaller than she’d like to. Part of her wants to come up with an excuse and slink away before she can further embarrass herself, but she decides against that. Out with it.

“I’m sorry,” she musters, after another second of silence.

The scribbling stops. She watches Ginny press her lips into a line.

“I told you that—”

“I know what you said,” Daisy interjects. “But I don’t think you meant it. And if I did then you can tell me I’m wrong and I’ll apologize for assuming.” Ginny looks up at her now, but she doesn’t say anything. Her brows are knit together, the pen resting in her lap, idle. Daisy lets out a small sigh, but holds her friend’s gaze while she still has it. “I’m not apologizing for being upset, I’m saying sorry for snapping on you. And if you don’t want to accept it then I can’t change your mind but I still owe it to you.”

She doesn’t know what to expect — watching as Ginny’s face goes through a multitude of expressions. Ginny runs a hand through her hair, leaning her weight on her elbows. The exhaustion finally shows on her face, and Daisy can’t recall the last time she’d seen someone look so tired.

“You are the most stubborn person I’ve ever known, Boston,” she mutters, with an irritated sort of affection. Daisy bites back a smile.

“You haven’t met yourself, then.” She dares to step forward and take a seat beside her, letting her side bump into Ginny’s and counting it as a victory when she doesn’t push her away or glare at her for sitting. “Can’t get one over on me though. I know when you’re mad.” And then, as she looks her up and down, Daisy decides to add “And when you’re tired.”

“Don’t you start nagging me too, Dais.”

“So Dick’s taken over in my absence, I’m assuming?” Daisy plucks the letter and the pen from her, taking Ginny’s lack of an answer as a confirmation. “Great then, maybe with his, mine, and Rita’s power combined you’ll actually rest on your breaks, now pass those letters over.”

“Daisy, you don’t have to—”

“Virginia Brant if you finish that sentence with you don’t have to do that, I’m going to take Rita and Cat’s mail too to censor all of it out of pure spite.” Which would definitely be a personal punishment, which Ginny definitely knows by the way that she snorts. Daisy smiles at her all the same. “Now lie down before I get him in here to forcibly tuck you in and just pass me envelopes when I need them.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Ginny offers with a snicker. Daisy shoves her, lightly, until she’s willingly falling onto her back and watching.

“You sound like you’d enjoy that way too much, so I’m retracting that statement. I’ll get Ron to do it instead. Or Captain Nixon. Maybe both.” Ginny pulls a face, something between grossed out and amused at the very thought. Daisy snickers.

“Keep up with the threats and I might just reject that apology of yours,” she hums, nudging Daisy with her foot. Daisy arches a brow, but reverts her attention to the letters, scribbling out locations, names that they can’t send out, certain dates.

“Then how long’s my probation?”

Ginny’s silent for a while, like she’s mulling it over. Daisy lets her and doesn’t pry as she contemplates.

“‘Till we’re in Germany. Then you’re good.” Daisy smiles at that, as she tears open another letter.

“Sounds good to me.”

[bellewintersroe]

hello! i would love to join in the BoB ship requests :) i’m about 5’6, have shoulder length dark brown curly hair, blue eyes, and glasses. i have been described as quiet and a little awkward when people are getting to know me, but once i warm up i’m very loyal and make a great listener and can be very outgoing around friends. i’m empathetic and always try to put others before me.

i’m majoring in behavioral neuroscience and psychology, with a minor in philosophy. i love learning about history and i also get into literature and art sometimes. i also enjoy traveling and studying different cultures (i’m half egyptian, so i especially love exploring that side of myself). the goal is to become a neurologist, specifically for cases such as traumatic brain injuries. my MBTI is INFJ and my enneagram is 4w3 if that helps.

thank you 😊

thank you for your request!!!

I ship you with… Dick Winters!

I think the thing that made me ship you with dick was your personality type? I feel like I’m BoB from my perception Winters gives off these vibes too? Or at least the way you are around people is attractive to him.

first of all, I think he’d sense you’re feeling a little awkward around all these new people, maybe you’ve just met him and met like 5059500493 other members from easy so you’re feeling a little overwhelmed?

this wouldn’t put Dick off, in fact I feel like he’d be so respectful and he’d make sure he introduced himself first and asked for you name, he’d deffo like shake your hand and his cheeks would turn red.

like maybe he didn’t admire you fully until you were standing in front of him???? And I feel like BAM the feelings would be instant for Dick.

strikes me as love at first sight???

Like Speirs, I think he’d watch yiu from afar- not in a creepy way, but Nix would realise and his eyebrows would perk and he’d be like ‘omg you’re in love!!!’

No Lewis it’s been 2 days but try again next week?

seriously, I think dick would want to stay professional, but during his days off he’d maybe take walks with you??? He’d recognise how intuitive and empathetic you were maybe through your work? I feel like he’d maybe slyly ask Eugene or somebody a tiny bit more about you??

Anyway you mentioned you put others before yourself, I feel like Dick would pick up on this and make sure you’re taking care of yourself tho???

like the way he did with Eugene, but this time he personally wants to help and make sure you’re resting?? Maybe in doing this he’d like ‘let’s go take a walk’ or ‘I’ll grab a coffee for you’ and for a while that becomes his love language <3

With war looming I think Dick deffo just gives into the prospect of asking you out and you’d grown fairly comfortable with each other so he just slides it in conversation one day.

when you agree I feel like he’d borderline giggle?????

So when the two of you are together I feel like you’d both be hugely respectful of each others time alone??? Like if you needed some alone time to relax he’d be all for it. But maybe after a while this becomes a habit you start to do together?

As in you’ll just chill there in comfortable silence, you don’t even have to be touching, or sometimes Dick will gaze over and take your hand gently- just to remind you he’s there 🤮🤮🤮🤮 I’m so sick I need this in my life

Senses immediately when you’re feeling awkward in a big group and deffo is the type to brush his fingers against yours, which nobody else can see btw.

wont overstep his boundaries EVER. Remains professional in front of the men and behind closed doors. He’s a good judge of character like I feel you would be too, so he just knows a good 80% of the time how you’re feeling before you even need to vocalise it.

the two of you are such an educated couple? Like I think we’re forgetting he graduated with the highest academic standing in the business college. I feel like subconsciously having an educated partner could be somewhat important to him?

the fact you’re majoring in all these insanely smart topics has Dick overly proud. I can picture him being at every single graduation, award ceremony, whatever tf else, he just shows up. Always.

maybe you two clash a little in the fact you want to travel and he wants to find a quiet corner of the earth and stay there forever. I sense he’s quite a homebody, but will definitely compromise with you.

1000% will enjoy just laying in the sun and going swimming on the beach. If you wanted to sunbathe I feel like you’d just admire him from afar in the ocean and he’d come over and accidentally drip water on you and the book you’re reading.

he’d have a little klutz around that made you both laugh before he’d settle next to you on the towels and keep a hand on your stomach just for comfort?

the fact you’re half Egyptian, listen, I think dick maybe finds this superrrr attractive and interesting. The fact you’re so keen to explore your culture is something that Dick wants to take on board too. He shows a great interest in it.

he’d just be so love sick with you- I think life with him would be so tranquil and calm, the two of you would seem to relaxed together? I love it.

I ship you platonically with… Floyd Talbert!

So didn’t winters call tab his guardian Angel or something???

well maybe he could have some involvement in setting the two of you up??

maybe you and Floyd weren’t so close at first especially if you were a little quiet, but when he finds out his best friend has it down bad for you he NEEDS to make this happen.

so one day he just starts being super keen and chatting to you about winters. Like overly chatting, you’re kinda overwhelmed but to the point you just find it hilarious and Floyd is confused???

he’s so excited and gives off such golden retriever vibes, you find it impossible to not click with him.

maybe you try set him up with one of your friends the way he does with you and Dick??? I feel like it wouldn’t work, don’t ask me why, he’s just too focused on actually getting you two on a date?

but when it actually happens tab takes ALL the credit, he’s literally so so SO happy for the two of you and stands and watches you both like a proud dad?

‘I did that’ he’d boast to the men of east who wouldn’t really know what he’s talking about? For a while maybe only him and Nixon are the ones that know about your relationship ???

Idk but this bond you grow with tab never goes away and I can imagine him being like the cool uncle, he’d deffo show up to all your graduations too??? He’d be so so proud and if the two of you get married, you best bet Floyd is BEGGING to be the best man.