#floyd talert x reader

[lostinthewiind]

Hiii I adore your fics! do you by any chance also write about floyd talbert? i feel like there's not a lot of fics out there about him. xx

Dear, sweet anon, I write about all the Band of Brothers boys. This is a song fic because I can’t get this song out of my head and it gave me such a cute idea. Hope you like it :)

Song: Patient - Charlie Puth 

Please Be Patient with Me

Returning from war was hard. For many of the men who kept in contact, the letters sent back and forth were filled with the stories of new, everyday challenges such as loud noises and sleeping in a bed that was just much too soft. Struggles ranged from small and minuscule to life-altering and crippling. 

Returning from war was hard, but for some, it was harder than others. You were among the few that was finding every new day to be a battle.

Your transition back into civilian life was a rather odd one. As soon as you returned from the front lines, you married the love of your life, whom you had met during the war, Floyd Talbert. For a month or so the two of you lived happily without many issues. You bought a home, you both got normal jobs, and you lived like a perfect, newly married couple. 

Then, one night, you woke up in a cold sweat after having a nightmare. You were screaming and crying and it took Floyd almost a full hour to convince you that you weren’t sitting in a cold, snow-covered foxhole in Bastogne. Almost every night since then you had had the same nightmare. It got so bad that you started sleeping in the spare bedroom, even though Floyd told you he didn’t mind and that you didn’t bother him. You could see it in his eyes every time you woke him up in a fit of tears though — the look of exhaustion and internal distress. 

It wasn’t just the nightmares. You also began struggling with everyday tasks. One morning, on your way to work, an engine backfired and the next thing you knew, you were huddled up on a street corner looking like a deranged meth-addict. You lost your job after a couple of weeks after that due to the fact that you kept zoning-out and reducing to tears by the incessant clacking of all the keyboard typing around you or the drop of a coffee mug in the break room.

You were a complete and utter mess, and just like you had predicted, it all eventually came crashing down on you at once.

All you were doing was making breakfast. Nothing too complicated, just cereal. You had woken up in a relatively good mood and, since you had no job to go to, decided to spend the morning on the porch in the sunlight and eat your food. 

You had opened a few of the house windows because of the pleasant morning breeze, but sadly, had forgotten to close all of the doors. When one of the open doors got caught in the draft and slammed shut, you froze on the spot. 

Your breathing immediately became heavy and you felt your pulse quicken. Your fingers tightened around the sides of the ceramic bowl in your hands and you squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to will yourself into a calmer state.

Then another door slammed.

Your hands flew over your ears and you collapsed right there on the kitchen floor. You drew your knees up to your chest and backed yourself up until your spine was pressing firmly into the lower cabinets. You felt the tears welling up in your eyes, which made you feel weak, consequently only making you more upset. 

For hours you sat there, shaking and crying on the floor. 

When you heard the front door open and close, you felt a small wave of relief wash over you, followed by guilt. Floyd was home, and even though you knew he would be able to calm you down, you hated that he had to calm you down.

What kind of man wanted to be married to a woman who became a puddle of fear at the simple slam of a door?

“Y/N!” Floyd called through the small house as he wandered around looking for you. When he finally sauntered into the kitchen and saw you sitting in front of him, he dropped down onto his knees beside you and pulled you into his arms without a second thought. 

“Oh, darling.” Floyd held you tight to his chest and rubbed soothing circles into your back. “What happened?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but all that came out was a pathetic sob. Burying your face into his neck, you let the cries escape you. A part of you was glad that you hadn’t been able to speak. You didn’t want Floyd to know how much of a mess you really were. A door? Really? You were shaking and crying over a door?

Floyd decided to stop pressing you for info for the time being. He knew that something had obviously startled you, and right then, that was all he needed to know. He was well aware that you were extremely self-conscious about your PTSD and always tried his best to play it off as something completely and utterly normal — which, considering what you had been through, it was. 

Without saying another word, Floyd held you, kissed you, rubbed you, and sat with you in his lap for hours. The sun had begun to set and the once tolerable breeze coming in through the open windows had turned frigid, but the thought of moving didn’t even cross his mind. 

Floyd was willing to sit with you for as long as it took for you to calm down, whether that be all night long or not.

Finally, after what seemed like days of sitting with your face buried into Floyd���s skin, you pulled back and wiped your tears away with your sleeve. Floyd watched you, his kind eyes full of patience and love.

“I’m sorry.” you choked out, your voice scratchy and broken. “I’m so sorry you had to come home after a long day at work to this…to me.”

Floyd’s heart shattered. “No, don’t say that.” he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Don’t be sorry about something you can’t control. It’s not your fault at all.”

“You’re such a good, kind, patient, loving man…” you told him as you pressed your forehead to his and closed your eyes. “Every day I feel guilty for tricking you into marrying me…into marrying someone like me who can’t even make breakfast without breaking down into tears.”

“You didn’t trick me into marrying you.” Floyd pressed a kiss to your tear-soaked lips. “I knew exactly who I was marrying when I said ‘I do’ and never once have I regretted it.”

You scoffed. “Not even when I wake up screaming?”

“Not even then.”

“Not even when I cry on the floor like a child?”

“You’re not a child, but no, not even then.” Floyd intertwined his fingers with yours. “You’re not the only one who’s having a rough time. At the factory, when the delivery truck doors drop down, I jump. Sometimes I end up taking twenty minutes coffee breaks by accident because I’m in a trance and I’m replaying Smith sticking me with his bayonet over and over again. Sometimes when I come home I stand outside the door for a while just trying to work up the courage to come inside and accept that all of this is real. You’re not the only one, babe.”

A small smile spread across your lips. Not at his confession — because hearing the things he dealt with made you upset — but at the fact that you weren’t alone in this; whatever this was. “Really?” you asked.

“Really.” Floyd nodded. “Two days ago I got a letter from one of the guys and he said that whenever he falls asleep on the couch he wakes up thinking he’s on the plane into Normandy. We’re all a little broken baby. It doesn’t mean we’re any less worthy of a good, happy life.”

Leaning in, you kissed your husband and cupped his cheek with your hand. Never in all of your life had you felt so loved and accepted and you had no idea what you had done to deserve such an amazing man.

“It was the doors,” you confessed. “I opened the windows and the doors slammed shut. I got scared by the doors.”

Floyd placed a kiss onto your temple. “Guess I’m just gonna have to take all the doors off of the hinges then. I think it’ll look nice; really open the place up. What do you think?”

“I think I love you,” you chuckled.

“I love you too,” Floyd whispered. “Now, please, baby, will you come back to bed with me tonight and stop sleeping in the spare room? When I wake up and you’re not there I can never get back to sleep.”

Your eyes fell and you found yourself closely examining the buttons on his shirt. “What if I have the nightmare again?”

“Then I will hold you, kiss you, tell you how much I love you, and lie with you until we both fall back asleep in each other’s arms.” 

“Okay.” you nodded as you pushed yourself out of his lap and onto your feet again. 

“Okay.” Floyd smiled as he followed you, letting out a small shiver in the process as a cold wind blew through the house. “But first I’m going to close these damn windows.” 

“Wait, don’t.” you blurted out. Floyd eyed you quizzically and for a brief moment, you felt a feeling you hadn’t felt in a while course through you — maybe it was bravery? “Don’t close them. Leave them open. Let the doors slam. As long as I have you, I’ll be okay.”

A wide, toothy grin spread across Floyd’s face as he held his hand out to you. “Let them slam,” he repeated. “Let’s go to bed, baby.”