#joe toye needs a fun tag

[chubbypotatoepie]

Lily’s War (Chapter 4)

Summary: SOE Agent Lily Darlington is unexpectedly demoted from her position and offered a life changing opportunity to become the first female Paratrooper in US history?

Pairing: TBD - The suspense is part of the fun, no?

Warnings: Mentions of violence, language

A/N: Chapter 4 finally here. Please forgive my lateness, but say welcome back to Lily, hopefully with a bang!

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Chapter 4.

Camp Toccoa, 1942. 

It hadn’t been an unusual day by any means, nothing particularly out of pocket had occurred. Yet, as Lily sat hunched over on the cold shower tiles watching the crimson stream of blood circle the drain, she recounted how the day had turned out so very wrong. 

— -

The bunkhouse was filled with the chorus of snoring soldiers broken only by the occasional creek of an ever restless Joe Toye rolling in his cot. All were sleeping soundly, except for Private Lily Darlington who was curled into a ball at the very top of her bed. Gentlestreaks of moonlight had trickled their way through the windows, glinting off a pair of dog tags clasped between her hands partially hidden beneath the covers, her fingers glided over the raised letters as she accosted herself at her inability to control her emotions. She sucked in a silent breath and pulled the blanket over her mouth in attempt to stifle any noise as she endeavoured to catch her breath. It had been a week since she’d last slept through the night without being plagued by a nightmare. It wasn’t unusual for them to hit once a fortnight, even once a week at their worst. She was used to that, she expected that, however lately, she was lucky to go two to three days between them. She hadn’t had a full nights sleep for a week, and it was starting to show. It was causing her to lose her sturdy exterior, she had started to quip back whenever Liebgott made a joke at her expense, and she’d purposefully tripped up Guarnere on the obstacle course the previous day due to his somewhat degrading comments on her performance. 

Each time was the same. Waking up, drenched in her own sweat, a searing pain emanating from her old wound accompanied by the smell of blood still lingering in her nostrils. It was part of the gig, came with the job she had been warned. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she placed her head between them, letting her fingertips graze over the scar as she sat there listening to the cicadas chirping outside the barracks. Their true meaning escaped her, she understood that she would have to be void of all human emotions if she weren’t to let past experiences stay with her, but why they haunted her was a question she had little answers to. It was a miracle that she had kept it to herself this long, how she hadn’t woken any of the men with her gasps or thrashing about. Lily thanked her lucky stars as she ran her hands through her damp hair, the groans from the springs beneath her sending a gentle reminder to maintain the peace within the quiet cabin as she gently knotted up her boots and tied her PT sweater around her waist. 

As she quietly sneaked out of the bunkhouse for some desperately needed air she found herself so lost in her own head that she didn’t notice the pair of eyes on her from across the room watching with a curious intensity.

— - 

“Yeah well I bet you’re regretting it now.” The irritating register of Perconte’s voice filled the latrine as he leant on the wall, half in and half out in the open door way, puffing his way through a lucky strike and scraping at a dirt stain on his shirt. 

“How was I supposed to know he’d hear me.” Luz looked up at his friend with a less than amused look on his face as he sat, back to the wall, tapping the excess ash from his cigarette into the bucket by his feet. 

“Ahh he’s got it out for all of us, yesterday was just your lucky turn.” Perconte answered.

“Last week was my lucky turn too, first time in my life I hope I run out of luck.” Luz said, his forearms on his knees as he took a deep breath of his cigarette. 

“You should be grateful, ain’t nobody been as lucky as Redcoat here, every goddamn day Sobel sees fit to reward her.” Perconte looked towards the girl scrubbing away in the corner, rolling his eyes to her seemingly obliviousness to the two men’s conversation. 

“Ain’t that right Redcoat? Hmmmmm?” Perconte clicked at the girl, trying to pull her attention from the floor. “Ears like a hawk that one” he mock whispered to Luz.

“I bet he can hear me in his sleep.” Luz replied, ignoring the short man’s half hearted attempt to irritate his punishment companion. 

“I bet he can hear you smoking and not scrubbing.” Perconte taunted tipping the sud bucket with his boot. 

Luz replied by flicking his half finished cigarette at the man, grabbing the brush from the wobbly bucket and began to scrub the tiled floor again, a little harder than necessary, his eyes conveying a less than amused look. 

“Well I’m off to enjoy this sunny afternoon, a free pass afternoon, do whatever the hell I feel like.” Perconte taunted.

Luz reached for the nearby bucket in retaliation, “you’re gonna be doing it soaking wet if you don’t get outta here” grinning to himself as Perconte made his way back out into the glorious sunshine, leaving Luz and Lily to scrub their afternoon away in the musty latrine. 

“Enjoy.” He spoke, his palms raised in defence, stepping out of the door way and cocking his head towards the girl in the corner with an eye roll.

Back in the corner, Lily knelt by the shower drain up to her elbows in suds from scrubbing the filthy floor, amazed by how the dark speckled tile was actually a light brown, hidden by a thick layer of dirt, grime, and God knows what else. She had been so graciously gifted the afternoon of latrine duty for an unknown infraction that Sobel had concocted the day prior during the afternoon obstacle course exercise after she had displeased him for the thousandth time that day, probably simply from existing. She wasn’t in the know as to Luz’s infraction, but she guessed that it was most likely due to his inability to keep his colorful thoughts to himself during the exercise, although, some of his impressions of Lieutenant ‘stick up his arse’ did make the time pass quicker. So now, they had the pleasure of each others company whilst they spent their first free afternoon in forever scrubbing the dirtiest part of the barracks as the rest of the men lamented in the summer sunshine. 

Without Perconte’s commentary echoing around the building the only sounds were that of the two scrubbing brushes rhythmically sanding away at the grimy floor. The silence was palpable. Lily didn’t mind the cleaning duty as much as Sobel probably hoped she would, she much preferred it to running a couple of miles in the humid sun with a full pack, and whilst she didn’t know Private Luz all that well, he’d been sticking to his end of the latrine, and wasn’t causing her any trouble thus far, so it came as a surprise to her when he broke the silence. 

“You know, if they’d mentioned in that damn Life article that being a paratrooper meant spending two sorry years of my life stuck with Sobel I might not have signed up so fast.” Luz stood up from his bent over scrubbing position, groaning as he clicked his body back into shape and wandered over to find where he’d left his water canteen, leaning back against the sinks, mulling over the absurdity of his situation. He looked over at the girl, scrubbing away at the endless grime that covered the floor, continuing to ignore him.

Lily had been part of Easy Company for some time now, that part being ignored, unwanted, forcing her to the back or just pretending she didn’t exist, the men always attempting to keep her an arms length away from the action. Luz wouldn’t have known she was still there if it weren’t for Sobel’s incessant barking at her. She didn’t speak up much in the classroom, never sat with the men at chow - never invited to sit with the men either he noted, even during the evenings before lights out she was either nowhere to be seen or already in bed turned away from whatever group conversation was taking place. 

“You don’t talk much do you?.” He peered over at her hunched figure as she continued scrubbing, when she didn’t answer he cleared his throat a little louder than necessary. 

“Hey Luz, how are you today? Well Redcoat, I was doing just fine until I had to come here and scrub! I love scrubbing, I’m so thankful that Lieutenant Sobel gifts it to me so often, it keeps my arms strong and my spirits high.” He chuckled to himself, tilting his head slightly in the hopes that she saw the peace offering he was attempting. 

She glanced behind herself, irritated at Luz’s attempt at humour, raising a singular eyebrow as she made eye contact with the sniggering man. 

“Oh thank god, it worked! You aren’t deaf! Had me worried for a minute there.” A ridiculous smile plastered across his face as he stared at Lily, waiting for an answer. She remained on the ground, one hand on her brush, one of the floor, her eyes attempting to bore a hole through his head. Her stare was beginning to make him think that they may have been better off in silence, his heart rate only slowing as he let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding in as she broke eye contact and slumped herself into a seated position, grabbing her canteen and taking a long, slow drink. 

Lily’s body ached from being bent over too long and her hands were raw from scrubbing, she had blisters on her palms from days of climbing ropes and scaling beams, she wasn’t in the mood for jibes or jabs. Her gaze remained off in the distance until she noticed Luz still looking at her, waiting on a reply, she was too tired for this, but she was too tired to continuously ignore him for the remaining hours of scrubbing they still had left.

“I’m touched?” her voice monotonous, her face unimpressed. 

The pair stared across the latrine at each other in their respective corners, an awkward silence dragging between them as neither knew what to say next. George realised that it might be the first time he’d actually properly talked to her, actually talking to her, rather than the odd nod when they came in contact during exercises. He couldn’t help but feel that part of her hesitation in talking is his own fault. By no means has he been the worst, but he hasn’t been all that forthcoming in welcoming their latest addition to the Company. He’s seen how she sits alone reading on her bunk at night, whilst the rest of the men play cards and enjoy themselves, how any conversation dies down if she merely walks past a group. A strong feeling of guilt washed over him as he racked his brain for what to say next.

“George Luz.” He wiped his hand on his pant leg before extending it towards her.

“I know who you are.” She looked towards his hand but made no move to accept the gesture.

“I know you do, and I know who you are too. Ain’t this how you do it in England? Introductions and shit?” He pushed himself off the sinks as she continued to just stare back at him, motionless. 

“Christ Redcoat, shake my damn hand, I ain't got cooties.” He stood there for a moment, his mind dancing between pride and patience before taking a few steps towards the girl, sitting himself down opposite her and extending his hand again. The lump in his chest evaporated as she waited a few moments, before placing her canteen back on the ground and with a firm shake she replied. 

“Lily Darlington.”

“And here I was thinking all this time that your name was Redcoat.” He mocked.

“I can see how you would think that.” She replied, her eyes rolled as she slumped her back against the cool wall.

“Sobel seems to really have it out for you.” He said, dancing on the edge of conversation.

“I’m starting to get the notion that he doesn’t quite like me.” She said in jest, it wasn’t enough to form a laugh, but she let out a huff of air.

“You ain’t wrong there.” He replied, stretching his legs out across the half scrubbed tile floor. 

“Well, perhaps my day just wouldn’t shine the same if Sobel didn’t remind me how worthless I am to the Company. Keeps me eager.” She turned and winked at him as she took another sip from her canteen, the suds from her elbows dripping onto her pant leg. She’d almost forgotten how it felt to have an actual conversation with someone, she felt as if she hadn’t said anything of substance in weeks. 

“You’re funny when you actually talk you know.” Chuckling when he receives a sarcastic seeming eyebrow raise and hint of a smile out of her.  “I don’t know how you do it,  I got six sisters and they cry if I so much as comment on anything they do, I hate the guy and he ain’t half as bad on me” Luz’s expression crinkled. 

“Its manageable.” She spoke as she scraped the sudds off her arms and shook them back into the bucket. 

Manageable, it was just about manageable, however it was teetering close to unbearable. She had a stern spirit, and a stiff upper lip, but not even she was unbreakable. They had so much more training to go, and then goodness knows how many years actually in the thick of it. If she couldn’t break the seal on the men’s freeze out then she had no hope of survival.

“Manageable, hmmm. Your Lieutenant hates you, your Company ain’t so keen on you either. Either you’re one determined son of a bitch, or you’re crazy.” He replied with a single eyebrow raise. 

“I’m not entirely sure I want to be friends with people who spit in my food.” She replied.  

“That’s Liebgott, he’s a jackass. And we don’t all hate you, we just don’t know you. You’re the only broad outta nine companies. You gotta see how weird that is.” 

“I see that it’s different, I don’t necessarily see it as the disadvantage that your lot do. I don’t even think they realise to know me they’d actually have to talk to me first, their friendship hasn’t exactly been forthcoming.”

“That’s fair.” He replied, his hands raised in defence. “We ain’t exactly been forthcoming, maybe it don’t come easy talking to a broad if it ain't at a bar for my lot?” He winked at her, met by a disapproving look. 

“I know you and I don’t think you’re all that bad. ” He smiled at her.

“You’ve known me, all of, two minutes?” Her sarcastic tone coming out again as she glanced down at her watch ticking away on her wrist. 

“I only let the very best of people be my friends.” He said mockingly.

“You’re friends with Liebgott…” She replied looking through her eyebrows.

“I am friendly with Liebgott, there’s a difference.” He smiled back. “Two long minutes, give it six months, we’re gonna be best friends.” His face turned to her with a childish grin plastered across it. 

“Is that so?” Her pitch raised as she suppressed a laugh at the mans premonition. 

“I know these things, feel it in my bones.” He winked before standing up and ‘wiggling his bones’ as he made his way back over to his own bucket, laughing to himself as left.

The pair fell back into their quiet rhythmic scrubbing, broken every so often by Luz trying to make conversation, and to his surprise, Lily trying to reply in a way that showed him she wasn’t entirely disinterested by his peace making attempts. After the lack lustre interactions she was used to she didn’t want to get too optimistic over a single conversation, but she couldn’t help feeling that it might be a tiny step in the right direction. 

— -

A hint of a smile crept across Lily’s face as she hung the buckets back up in the supplies closet. The pair had finally finished their punishment and Luz had rushed off to enjoy the rest of the afternoon with the men, something about Bull Randleman owning him a pack of smokes from their poker game the previous night. Lily had offered to finish up the job, and afterwards planned to find a quiet corner and watch the world go by, she had been looking forward to doing nothing for so long and her body was begging for a break. 

With her smile still lingering and her heart a little lighter she made her way along the barracks towards the quieter end of the camp, turning the corner without noticing the large figure coming straight towards her until it was too late, smacking head on, and sending both parties stumbling back, the ground littered with papers that Lily could only assume the other party had been rushing somewhere.

“I’m so sorry!” Lily exclaimed, gathering up all the lose sheets around her before looking up to see exactly who she had run into. Her heart dropped in her chest when her eyes raised to meet those of Lewis Nixon’s, Lieutenant Lewis Nixon’s, “Sir.” She tried to add quickly, however in her shocked state, it came out more like a whisper, much to her embarrassment. 

His eyes lowered for a split second before he also reached for the loose sheets, shoving them haphazardly into the file tightly grasped in his hands, almost in an attempt to by himself some time to think of something logical to say. Before it could conjure anything Lily’s hand thrust out towards him as she offered his remaining papers, his eyes met hers once again, and he drew in a sharp breath as he took them from her grasp. They both stood there awkwardly, waiting for the other to speak first. 

It hadn’t really sunk in for him yet. He still didn’t truly believe she was here. That it was actually her. Yes he’d sat through the meeting with her and Winters, however, most of it was a blur to him, he was certain he was being pranked and any moment now his sister Blanche would pop out from behind a tree, grab Lily and run off giggling. He felt as if he had been shot upon seeing her unannounced all these years later. She had been here for weeks now, yet he found himself avoiding her, filling every available hour with extra tasks just to minimise the amount of time in which he’d actually have to face her. He just couldn’t understand what the hell she was doing here - the Lily he knew would not be here. 

Lily could feel a flush of embarrassment rise to her cheeks, she had been wanting to speak to Lewis privately ever since she arrived, yet could never seem to find an appropriate moment, now she had one she couldn’t even seem to form a single word out of her mouth, it didn’t help that he was staring at her in an unnerving manner. Before either of them could say anything Lieutenant Winters called out for him. His eyes rose to the source of the voice across the far side of the opposite field before dropping back to meet hers with a regretful expression. 

“I have to go.” Was all he could bring himself to say before pushing past her small frame and dashing off to the very meeting he had just made himself late for, grimacing at the way he had just handled the situation, knowing full well he was just making everything more complicated for his future self and somewhat guilty for not even saying hello to the girl he was once so very close to. 

— -

If persistence was a person it would be George Bloody Luz. It was evident that he been steadfast in his intentions in becoming best friends, but to be fair, Lily hadn’t been stopping him. She was right about the step, which had actually turned out to be more of a leap, George Luz didn’t seem to do anything halfheartedly. She had begun to enjoy having a someone to shoot the shit with as they scaled Currahee, someone to compare notes with after a classroom exercise, to stand in line with at the mess hall as they awaited that evenings sloppy serving of grub. Luz had even been trying to get her to sit alongside the men at meals, to which she complied, but somehow always found herself perched half on half off the bench, too far away to be able to be involved in any discussion. One step forward, one step back. Lately they’d even found themselves sat out the back of the Barracks late in the evenings before curfew, sharing a laugh, going over the best and the worst parts of that day, occasionally joined by Floyd Talbert or another one of Luz’s friends, which only seemed to make her situation feel even more isolating, ironic really. Lily craved the dynamic that George had with the rest of the chaps, the camaraderie and the comfort it seemed to bring him at the end of a long day when he could truly be himself. It was a harsh reality, not one that she was expecting either, that to let herself be open to any form of friendship, she had to be able put her guard down, not to mention swallowing her pride. 

In a surprise turn of events, the men seemed to take the lead from Luz, she was far from getting into conversation with anyone new, however when she sat next to Luz at chow the previous evening, she received head nods from some of the others at the bench, and Randalman had even saved her a seat. It was an improvement, a very small improvement, but one she so desperately needed. 

— -

"You know Nix, I think if you stare any harder you might just fall through that window.” Winters noted from beneath his stack of papers. 

“I am not staring, I am observing.” He replied, eyes fixated on the field before him.

“That her?” Spiers motioned to the short figure at the back of the group.

“Sure is” Winters replied, placing his papers down and joining the men congregated around the window. 

The trio stood side by side behind the window, watching the line of Privates as they stood in formation, being barked at by their beloved Lieutenant Sobel. Nixon’s eyes fixed on the form of Private Lily Darlington at the end of the line, a full head and shoulders below her fellow men, the longer he stared the less he began to recognise the girl he once new. 

— -

“Easy Company, each of you will select a strip of paper! On that paper will be a name, that name will be your partner for the rest of the day, there will be no trading partners, no exceptions!” Sobel’s voice cried as he thrust the helmet forcefully into Lily’s hands.

She groaned as she grabbed a strip from the pile, she had gotten away with mostly pairing Luz for the week. Sparing wasn’t anything new to her, in all actuality she excelled at it, but there in lay her problem. Her position within the Company already ruffled feathers and had the men asking all sorts of questions that she had little interest or ability to answer. If she had gone from quiet girl at the back of the group, to launching grown men over her shoulder within a day she doubted that she’d be able to escape without explaining herself. Luz was her scapegoat, not that he knew it. She had let him lead the training, she tried to spar with her non dominate hand to lessen the blows, heck he’d even commended her on her improvements the day before. As she passed the helmet towards George she said a silent prayer that the name on her slip was an easy opponent, whilst she knew she was going to have to suppress herself, she wasn’t exactly hoping to have to take a punch from the likes of Bull or even Guarnere, she was hoping to remain under the radar, not in the medical bay. 

“Who’d you get?” George whispered across to her, passing the helmet to its next victim. 

Lily felt her prayer fall from the sky and slap her as she opened the strip of paper between her fingers. Inked across in a barely legible scrawl was the one name she’d have paid good money to not see.

Liebgott. 

She tilted the paper towards him and rolled her eyes as an amused grin swept across his face.

“Weren’t you saying yesterday how much he deserves a ‘kick up the arse’” Luz replied, mocking her accent rather crassly, his eyebrows wiggling in jest.

With a look of distain she nodded towards his paper, the corners of her mouth turning up as she read ‘Randalman’, looks like Luz will have a tussle of his own. 

“Find your partner and pair up!” Sobel yelled from the other side of the field. 

“Have fun!” Luz mocked as Lily dragged herself towards the other end of the field to find her unlucky partner. She was barely 10 steps towards where he was stood before she could feel his eyes beginning to glare a hole through her.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me, boys, this is gonna be fun.” He spat, looking her up and down before shoulder passing her and strutting away from the group of men towards his spot on the field.  

“Listen up Easy Company! The man on the far side of the field will make the starting move, last man standing wins!” Lieutenant Sobel’s whistle rang through the air as Lily centred her weight and dug deep deep down within herself to find an ounce of self control to not smash his face in. Defence, defence, Now wasn’t the time to be putting anyone in the medical bay.

“Afraid of messing up your hair sweetheart?” His childish voice rang in her ears as he stood on the far side of the field rolling his sleeves up. 

“You’d have to make contact with me to be able to do that, Liebgott.” She smiled back at him with a shit eating grin, spitting his name as if it were a slur.

“Yeah?” He said, slowly squaring up towards her. He was a good head and shoulders taller than her, and he was using every ounce of his stature to try to intimidate her. It was pretty easy to pinpoint exactly how Liebgott managed to get under her skin so easily, he was impulsive, rude, he knew how to push all her buttons, but mostly it was that he seemed to wake up every day with the innate desire to do anything, say anything to tick her off. It was killing her to find an ounce of strength not to retaliate. She had learnt the hard way that it mostly makes situations worse.

The duo stood steadfast, each not willing to back down from their ridiculous stare off, completely oblivious to the approaching footsteps of the Lieutenant Winters as he made his way over towards them. 

“Do we have a problem here?” His deep voice broke their trance, his eyes shifting between the pair. 

Liebgott’s head swung from between the Winters and the girl, “Afraid of getting her hands dirty I’d say, Sir.”

Winters let out a huff of aggravation, “Private Darlington, do you have a problem sparring with Private Liebgott?” His face displayed a look of curiosity as he peered down at the girl. “From what I’ve seen I’d say quite the opposite. Perhaps you can teach Private Liebgott here a thing or two.” He said with a wink. 

“Yes Sir” Lily happily replied, a hint of a smile edging on her lips, I’d happy slap the shit out of him, Sir. 

Lieutenant Winters smiled as he backed away, he couldn’t help but admit that he did hold a slight interest in watching her take down the loudmouthed Liebgott. He’d been an onlooker a few of their interactions, and whilst he wouldn’t feel inclined to step in between them; he knew that they needed to learn how to live amongst each other, and sometimes that required an ego takedown, he was comforted in the knowledge that his meddling would only produce what Liebgott had been fuelling with his behaviour.

Lily didn’t know the last time she had free rein to pummel someone, and she adored it. A rush of adrenaline overcame her as she waited, her weight spread, knees slightly bent. Joseph Liebgott you are so bloody predictable. During the drills prior shed had time to observe almost every man, assessing their strengths and taking note of their weaknesses. Liebgott was a classic, he favoured his left leg for balance, he always threw his first punch with his right arm. He was always telling the other men about fights he had gotten into back home, he was experienced, but impulsive. His aim was always to throw as many punches as he could before his opponent got a look in. Always so quick to attack that he never assessed the situation, his anger and his ‘better than thou’ attitude clouded his judgment. 

Lily dug her foot further into the dirt for leverage as she looked across at her partner, taunting her with a confident smirk and accompanying wink. Her eyes didn’t move from his as she waited for him to make the first move, she remained still, waiting on each footstep as he moved closer towards her. 

She barely had a second to breathe before Liebgott launched himself at her, throwing a punch that narrowly missed her eye. She ducked to dodge its trajectory, having to stop herself from sinking her fist into his crown jewels as she came back up, although she’d be lying if watching Liebgott rolling around on the ground like a worm cradling his crotch wouldn’t amuse her. 

Her weeks of silence in the evenings had been beneficial, it seemed Liebgott’s favourite pastime to recount the street brawl fights he’d gotten himself wrapped up in back home in California. She needed to prepare for a dirty fight. He retreated for a short moment before he lunged at her again, his movements brash and wild, he aimed for her blind spots, however, Lily anticipated it this time, and blocked and you countered, clipping his ankle as he came past, his impulsiveness made for a simple fight, however she kept her fists tight to her body, defence Lily, she reminded herself, scraping every ounce of self control she had left.

Winter’s attention was pulled from the scene as Nixon and Spiers made they way over the field to where he stood. 

“Battle to the death?.” Spiers said as he looked out onto the scene before them. 

Nixon stood between them, his arms tightly folded watching the ebb and flow of the drill intensify, his brow knitted tightly. “She’s reading him like a book.” He said, with more concern than he intended.

Thwack! 

She blocked his expected right hook, and countered with an elbow to his face, it wasn’t hard enough to break anything, but just about enough to knock his balance off. Swinging around she met his eyes as he recoiled back, his dark eyes glared at her, a mixture of shock and fury. This time Lily moved without hesitation, rushing forward she ducked down and grabbed Liebgott below the waist, using her entire body weight to throw him to the ground, the loud thunk of his head colliding with the mud drew inquisitive eyes from them other sparring pairs. A quiet murmur started to form amongst the onlookers who didn’t know wether to stop or watch what was going on. The force of the impact sent ringing through Liebgott’s ears, his eyes felt heavy in his head as if he was being pulled into the earth itself.

A quiet suppressed chuckle escaped from Spiers as Sobel shoved past the onlookers him yanked Liebgott back to his feet by his shirt collar.  “Easy Company is better than this Private, are you going to let a girl beat you?!” He bellowed into Liebgott’s ringing ears as he shoved him back into the fight. 

Liebgott stood for a few seconds catching his breath, before swinging his arm again and unleashing a series of rapid strikes. Lily moved and countered, her blocks almost poetic in their efficiency. 

Sobel’s voice called out once more, “Private Liebgott this isn’t a street fight, you are to take down your opponent!” His cowl voice broke Lily’s concentration, and in the split second she had stopped to turn her attention towards Sobel Joe had moved to throw a wild punch. Lily failed to block him as his fist collided with the side of her face. He was overjoyed, a slinky grin crept onto his face as his eyes scanned the red mark quickly rising across her left cheek. 

A few men down, Luz and Randleman had paused mid takedown as they saw Liebgott’s fist meet Lily’s face, they anxiously watched, unaware how they each still had their fists curled into each others uniform. 

Lily swallowed hard as she re-entered herself, she was prepared for a few bruises, she had settled on a few bruises, a few stumbles and she’d fall, faking defeat. She’d be able to sit the rest out and no one would remotely pay any attention to her, she had had her fun with him. That was until Liebgott decided to open his mouth and drain every inch of her self control.

“Gonna cry Red? I’ve seen you cry in your sleep, ain’t gonna be nothing new, you just can’t hack it.” He scoffed in her direction as she wiped a loose tendril of sweat covered hair out of her eyes.

His words seared into her skin and a switch flipped inside of her. She let him move first, her eyes shooting daggers into his. She watched as he moved slowly towards her, before shifting his weight and throwing a punch that she dogged with ease, he was playing into her hands. Then, with a sudden sprint Lily moved towards Liebgott.

Crunch!

With a sudden jab to the face Liebgott stumbled backwards, his nose bloodied and his fists tightened. He moved to wipe the blood away, however Lily didn’t give him a moment’s rest. 

“What in the Sam Hell…” Escaped from Randleman’s mouth as he stood, still connected to Luz, his breath caught in his throat as he watched the tiny girl, his eyes wide with shock.

With Liebgott’s hands up to his face, he left himself open, and Lily rushed forwards again. She explored his opening and with a shark kick has landed a blow to his ribs, a jarring move that stole the air from his lungs. Liebgott doubled over as the onlookers winced, barely sparring themselves anymore, too interested in the action. 

“She’s got bite, I’ll give her that.” Spiers spoke

“You can thank the SOE for that.” Nixon replied, his eyes completely fixated on the girl.

Liebgott, with more fury in his eyes than before attempted a desperate counter attack, Lily, however, moved in with ruthlessness, blocking each strike, and retaliating with a relentless barrage. Her fist collided with the Californian’s nose for the second time, forcing Liebgott to stagger backward as he let out a gasp of pain. As the confrontation reached its climax, Lily delivered a final, devastating series of blows, landing a final kick to his abdomen, followed by an elbow to the face in order to distract him, seizing the opportunity she grabbed him by the arm and flipped him over her shoulder. The onlookers shuddered as a sickening crunch sounded when Liebgott hit the ground, his shoulder dislocating the impact. Lily stood over him, her hands on her thighs as she panted, catching her breath as he lay there, defeated, bloody, and breathless. 

“Jesus Christ” Nixon breathed out as stood with the other Officers, their faces a mixture of curiosity and shock. He was finding it difficult to put into words what he had just seen, who was this Lily?

Tag list:

@shakespear-picaso-lovechild @icantdecideofthename @this-harl0t-shant-be-unalive @weird-obsessed-girl

Next part sooooo much sooner than you think!

[softguarnere]

I posted 1,284 times in 2022

That's 1,284 more posts than 2021!

248 posts created (19%)

1,036 posts reblogged (81%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@latibvles

@liebgotts-lovergirl

@almost-a-class-act

@tvserie-s-world

@starblcssd

I tagged 847 of my posts in 2022

Only 34% of my posts had no tags

#band of brothers - 163 posts

#tumblr friends - 133 posts

#ask game - 71 posts

#anonymous - 68 posts

#band of brothers x reader - 65 posts

#fic recs - 63 posts

#asks - 60 posts

#my writing - 54 posts

#band of brothers fanfic - 53 posts

#ron speirs - 38 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#anyway it had to be pointed out to me that i can't hear shifty's accent because i come from a similar area and apparently have an accent

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

hiiii welcome to the fandom babeeee!!

uh so i was wondering if i could have a oneshot with either ron speirs or joe toye pleaseeee... can i have it like something fun because i really need a pick-me-up right now :))

A/N: Hi, thank you so much! I'm sorry that you're going through a rough time, and I hope that it gets easier soon 💕I've never written x reader fanfic before, so I hope that this is okay and I hope you like this! (This is written for the fictional depiction from the show. No disrespect to the real veterans!)

Pull That Trigger

Ron Speirs x Reader

Summary: When Talbert asks for a favor, you're shocked to see the usually confident Ron in a situation where he feels out of his depth

"Of course!" You exclaim at the same time that Ron says, "Absolutely not."

You and Tab both blink, caught off guard. It had seemed like such a simple request: "Can you guys watch Trigger for me this weekend while I take my pass?", and to you, the answer had seemed just as simple and obvious. But not to Ron, apparently.

"Oh, uh --"

"Why not?" You ask.

Ron shifts. It's not easy to make him uncomfortable, but under the weight of Tab's confused look and your squinting, it suddenly feels like a spotlight has been shone in his face. "I'm just not really a dog person."

"You don't like dogs?"

"No! Dogs are fine. They just . . . don't like me."

"It's fine," Tab assures you, standing to go. "I can always ask someone else. I just thought, because you guys are the most responsible in the company and all --"

"Yeah," Ron agrees a little too eagerly. "Luz likes Trigger. Or Shifty. He likes dogs. Or --"

"We'll watch Trigger for you." When you feel Ron's eyes widen in disbelief, you amend the statement. "I'll watch Trigger for you."

Tab visibly relaxes. "Thanks, (Y/N). You're a lifesaver."

Yeah, you think, refusing to look at Ron, who's staring at you like you just sprouted a second head. At least someone thinks so.

--

Ron hadn't been kidding when he said that dogs didn't like him. When Tab stops by the house that you, Ron, and some of the other officers have been sharing to drop off Trigger, the dog is all over you, barking and offering you playful kisses. When he spots Ron standing behind you, he runs to him, sniffs his boots, and then proceeds to come back to you, ignoring your boyfriend.

Ron only raises his eyebrows at you. See? I told you so.

"Thanks again for doing this (Y/N)," Tab says. He sends a glance behind you at Ron. "And uh, sorry, Speirs."

You had been worried that Trigger might sulk when Talbert left, but he's an unstoppable ball of energy. He's racing around the house inspecting everything, and jumping all over you in between that and trying to climb onto the couch. It's nice to see the dog enjoying himself so much. You can't help the smile that spreads across your face.

Ron, on the other hand, has never looked more out of his depth. Suddenly the man who can walk into a room and make everyone fall silent with his presence looks like an awkward partygoer, standing in the corner of the room shifting his weight from foot to foot and trying to figure out what to do with his hands.

When you're seated on the floor with Trigger sprawled out in front of you, he finally seats himself on the edge of the couch, looking ready to run for the hills at a moments notice.

"I didn't know you liked dogs," he says.

Your smile falters, and for a second, he's worried that he's said something wrong.

"I have one, back home," you explain. "Not the same type of dog, but he's just as excitable. I miss seeing him everyday."

"I didn't know that." Not for the first time that evening, he finds himself feeling out of his depth.

You only shrug. "We've never really talked about it, or anything." There's a beat before you realize, "We're not really the couple that talks about our feelings."

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57 notes - Posted August 15, 2022

#4

A World Without Color Is A World Without You

Eugene Roe x reader

A/N: What's up y'all?! @brassknucklespeirs and I have been talking about soulmate aus, and now they're living rent free in my brain. I had a wild day at school, and using those feeling to create angst was strangely therapeutic, I won't lie. I hope you enjoy this, and my requests are always open if you have something specific you would like to see! (As always, this is written for the fictional depictions from the show -- absolutely no disrespect to the real-life veterans!) 💕🕊️

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST! The usual HBOwar stuff: war, guns, injury, blood, language. I also didn't really proof read this, so take that for what it's worth.

"So is it like, a cultural thing?" George asks. In between his shivering, he gives you a sideways glance, watching you tense up as you continue staring straight ahead through the darkness, watching the line. He shrugs. "I've just always wondered."

"About what?"

He shrugs again. "Well, back in Toccoa, I kinda thought maybe you were just shy. But I know that's not true; you're pretty chatty after a few drinks. I remember reading somewhere once, before the war, maybe back in school, that in some cultures it's rude, or even taboo."

On your other side, Joe huffs. The cool air in front of him clouds up with what little warmth he can muster. "George, I'm sure if she wanted to talk about it, she woulda told ya by now."

"Yeah, Luz," you agree. "If I knew what the hell you were talking about, I probably could have answered you twelve different times."

The radioman knocks his shoulder against your own. "Awe, come on (Y/N). My brain is frozen -- gimme a break."

"Okay. I'll answer if you actually ask the question."

"Okay." Luz nods. For someone who was so eager to find answers a moment before, he seems unsure of himself when you give him permission to ask. He stops looking at you and trains his own eyes on the line, voice softening when he asks, "Why do you never look anyone in the eye?"

There it is.

Toye reaches behind you to smack Luz on the back of his helmet.

"Ow!"

"You can't just ask that!" Joe reprimands. "Besides, you could probably just figure it out from context."

Joe is right. It seems like most people should have figured it out by now. Maybe then you wouldn't have so many sweet-talking replacements sauntering up to you with calls of, "Hey, Shy Girl, you found your man yet, or are you playin' hard to get?" or "Baby, I bet I could be the one to make you see color."

Because that's the thing: your world has always been shades of black and white, and it will remain that way until you look into the eyes of your soulmate. The first color you ever see will be the color of their eyes, and then -- according to everything you've heard your friends and family describe -- the rest of the world will follow as a whole universe of color is revealed to you. But therein lies several problems for you.

Problem one: you didn't find your soulmate back at home before the war. Which, you initially thought, might be okay. Maybe you would meet them after. Or during, some of your more romantic-minded friends told you dreamily before you shipped out.

Which made problem two all too real to you: if you meet your soulmate and then they die, the world will go back to being black and white.

The realization had hit you like a punch in the gut. Everyone else seemed to think it was tragically romantic, but not you. You had always known the world as shades of plainness and shadow. How could you stand it, if you discovered the beauty of the world, only to then have it stripped away from you? And worse, how could you stand to lose the person that you loved -- that you were destined to be with? Something that was all too possible in the middle of a war.

So you made a decision. A hard one, but one that seemed necessary -- you wouldn't look a stranger in the eye again until after the war.

Under the blanket of night, huddled together with your friends for warmth, you tell them exactly that. No one can tell if the slight shake in your voice is from emotion or from the cold, and no one calls it into question. You've never told anyone before. You're not sure how they might react.

Joe pats your knee. He's not a man of words, but his action says it all.

"I'm sorry," Luz whispers. "I shouldn't have asked."

"No, it's okay," you reassure him, trying to smile, more for yourself than for him. To lighten the mood, you decide to do what he would do if he weren't in an awkward position -- you crack a joke. "Why does it matter, Luz? You worried we might be soulmates?"

Taken off guard, he laughs. "I won't lie, (Y/N), the thought has occurred to me."

It had taken a lot of strength to tell them your secret. Now though, they know -- secrets rarely feel so heavy when there's someone who can help you carry them. Your burden reduced, you turn towards him in the darkness. "Well, let's find out."

"What?" Out of reflex, he turns to you.

See the full post

62 notes - Posted September 16, 2022

#3

*sheepishly pops head around the door frame*

hiii darling, it’s me again hehe

I hope you’re well and have had a great day!!!

So I read your Bill fic where he comes in all protective and calling the reader “my girl” and I LOVED IT!! And it got me thinking, if you had the time and didn’t mind, I would love love loveeeee to have like a protective one shot fic of a lad of your choice (I mean we both know who my fave man is but it is completely up to you as I love them all and it’s truly whoever you feel you want to write for and who fits the ideas in your mind)

I just love the idea of a man seeing his girl in a pickle and knowing shes a strong, individual badass who’s literally here fighting a war and can absolutely sort it herself but definitely being the guy who’s like “nah she’s my girl, if I’m around she doesn’t need to bother handling it herself cause I got her always” I just swoon every time (and if it involves just a littleeeee bit of jealousy too then wow that’s jsut *chefs kiss*)

Hiii babe! I'm glad that you liked that fic, because I honestly had a lot of fun writing it 💕

The way that I became OBSESSED with this prompt after opening my notifications is unreal, truly. Omg, I love this idea. And since I know you like Speirs, I knew I had to write it for him 😉 I really hope you like it, and thank you for trusting me enough to write it! 😌

Ares and Athena

Ron Speirs x reader

A/N: Me? Making up battles for the sake of my own plot? Absolutely. This doesn't really take place between or during any particular episode, so if you're looking for accuracy, this ain't it lol. This is written for the fictional depiction from the show -- absolutely no disrespect to the real life veterans!

Warnings: war, mild language, sexism, the inevitable typos that come with writing and uploading a fic in the middle of the night

This is Ron's favorite part of being in combat. The adrenaline that floods him when put into a high stress situation would make other men dizzy and unsure, but if anything, it heightens his every sensation and makes the world simple and clear-cut. Only a chosen other few would understand how he feels, and luckily, you're one of them. That's probably why you work so well together.

His heart swells when he spots you and a few E Company men in a small clearing up ahead. He stops his men behind him and calls out the challenge. "Flash!"

"Thunder!" You and your men respond, wheeling around to face him. Even beneath your cam cream and the grime that's smudged on your face, he can make out the relief that comes over you.

Relief is hard to find in a situation like this. The Germans have everyone in a frenzy, running wild, heading the wrong way, causing companies to split up as they try to reach their objective. Ron himself has a handful of his own men from Dog Company, as well as one from Able and two from Baker, and it looks like you and the Easy boys didn't fair much better in trying to stay together; he sees Bull and Liebgott, as well as Luz with his radio, and someone he only vaguely remembers from Fox Company -- a replacement, probably, based on his young looking face.

The men who know you also lose a bit of their tension. Having you and Ron together is like being led by Ares and Athena -- two fearless gods of war who seem untouchable in any battle.

"Afternoon, Lieutenant," he greets you when you unite in the clearing. "I assume that you've also had some trouble reaching our objective?"

You nod back in the direction from which you and the Easy men just came. "Kraut tanks have a strong defense along the tree line in the eastern part of the woods. We encountered a whole nest of snipers that sent us all scattering, and only a few of us managed to stay together. What about you?"

"Same story on the western tree line." Ron motions off to the left, where the trees start to thin out a bit. Beyond them, you can almost see where the greenery comes to a sudden stop, guarding the edge of a wide field. "Our objective is across that field, but we'd be totally exposed to the tanks on both sides if we tried to cross it."

A frown pulls at the corners of your mouth as you glance at the handful of men around you. "That just might be a chance we have to take."

Behind you, the man from Fox company scoffs. Your men roll their eyes at him, but Ron is surprised that you ignore him, choosing instead to pull our your map and begin unfolding it.

"If we want to make our objective in time to link up with everyone else, we're going to have to go back the way we came," the man says. "We can skirt the sniper, swing wide around the tanks, and make it to the other side of the field without the Germans ever seeing us."

"Snipers," you say without looking up from the map.

The F Company man blinks. "What?"

"Snipers, plural," you correct, turning back to look at him. "There's a whole nest of them. This forest is like their playground. Trying to sneak around them is like throwing a rock into a hornets nest and then hoping that they don't chase you." You gesture to the limited amount of men following you. "You saw how well that worked out when we found them by accident."

The man is undeterred. "I'm sure with some proper leadership we could make it through just fine."

Ron stiffens, but before he can gauge your reaction and react appropriately, Liebgott has smacked the man on the back of the head with just enough force to make the man reach up to touch it on reflex, even though his helmet probably protected him from any serious damage.

"The only way we'd stand a chance against them is if we had Shifty Powers with us," Liebgott snaps. "Which we don't. So why don't you shut up and stop questioning our Lieutenant?"

Even though you're still looking at your map, Ron doesn't miss the small smile that flickers across your lips. It makes him feel . . . strange, somehow, but he can't really place a finger on why.

The problem is that your relationship isn't exactly a secret -- it's just that you've chosen not to tell anyone about it. (The only person who either of you have told was Lipton, and that was only because he caught Ron kissing you on the forehead one night when you were all billeted in the same house. As far as he knows, Lip hasn't told anyone.)

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72 notes - Posted August 26, 2022

#2

Hiya lovely!! Could I please put in a self-indulgent request for a Lieb oneshot (or hcs, whichever you'd prefer!) where he always has to be close to or touching his S/O, whether in little ways or big? 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

I have a personal headcanon that his main love language is Physical Touch so he's big on PDA & having his S/O close to him brings him a lot of comfort, whereas having them far away feels empty 😅

Thank you so much in advance!! 💖💖💖

Touch Me, Love Me, Can't Get Enough

(5 times during the war that Liebgott wants to hold you and 1 time after)

Joseph Liebgott x reader

A/N: Aly, bestie, the way that this request had me giggling and twirling my hair and kicking my feet the second I read it!!! I absolutely love this headcanon, and I'm so honored that you asked me to write it 🥹 I had waaayy too many ideas, so I decided to go with a 5 times +1 time fic for this one. I hope that you like this 💕🕊️ (As always, this is written for the fictional depiction from the show -- no disrespect to the real life veterans!)

Warnings: angst, discussions of concentration camps, depictions of war

I

It's one of those things that you don't notice until someone points it out. In this case, the someone is Sobel and pointing it out is him huffing that "Private Liebgott has no sense of personal space" when he passes the two of you heading back to barracks one night after coming back from a weekend pass. You're suddenly hyper-aware of the way that your arms bump into his every now and then as you walk due to your close proximity. You've both been drinking, though, so it's not like you really have all your cognitive functions about you; occasionally bumping into one another is like a tether making sure that neither of you falls over or wanders off. Sobel's criticism is easy to brush off.

Other people's comments? Not so much.

"It's hot as hell in here," Skip complains, using his sleeve to mop the sheen of sweat off his face. "Glad they're not takin' us to the Pacific; this heat is all I can stand."

Malarkey shoots a glare to someone passing by who jostles him as he slaps down his next card. "Speak for yourself."

"What? You tellin' me you like it this warm? Five minutes ago you were talkin' about how happy you'll be when we get off this boat."

"I meant them." Malarkey nods towards you and Liebgott. You both look up from your cards, confused. "I know that you guys have to constantly be touching each other or whatever, but how can you stand it when it's this hot?"

Constantly touching each other? What's that supposed to mean? You're just playing cards to pass the time while the boat chugs towards England, and you're sitting next to your friend . . . whose left arm is pressed up against your right. Sure, you could blame the closeness on the crowdedness of the boat, but Malarkey and Muck are sitting across from the two of you, and they have space between them.

At the same time that you start to lean away, Liebgott shifts beside you, wrapping his left arm around you and pulling you into his side. He fixes Malarkey with a cool look. "And what of it?"

You try to keep your expression cool as well, but you're having to concentrate on it. The oppressive heat from the boat is what's making it hard, you want to tell yourself, despite the fluttering feeling in your stomach at this close contact -- which is even closer than usual.

The Oregon boy shakes his head and slaps down another card. "Enjoy the heat stroke, I guess."

His point is proven, but Liebgott doesn't move his arm from around your shoulders. Instead, he smiles at you. Not his usual smirk that he throws around when he's pulled one over on someone; this smile is soft and warm.

Well, if you're going to help prove a point, you might as well commit to it. You smile back and lean further into his embrace.

II

"Flash!"

"Thunder!"

You lower your gun and squint through the darkness as a figure emerges from the bushes in front of you. If one good thing came out of all of those night marches that Sobel sent Easy Company on back in training, it's that you could recognize the silhouettes of your fellow soldiers in a heartbeat, even in the worst lighting. Your heart thrums when you realize who's coming towards you.

"Joey!" You really shouldn't put your gun down, not now that you're on the ground and in the midst of chaos, but you throw both arms around him. He does the same. He smells like the war -- that cologne that war produces that's a mixture of fuel from the C-47s, the sweat of excitement, and the faint smell of his shampoo that still lingers in his hair.

He melts into your touch. At some point between the boat ride and the news that you would be jumping into France, you two had decided to make it official, even though in some ways, you had always been a couple. Joe has been more open with the ways that he initiates physical contact with you since then. In a way, you can't really blame him; he comes from a big, affectionate family. Being away from their love and warmth has been harder for him than most people realize. It's like he craves physical touch. Good thing that you like his affection.

"Are you okay?" He whispers, still holding you tight.

"I'm fine. Are you?"

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77 notes - Posted October 17, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

can I maybe request intelligence officer x ron speirs?? this is like my favorite idea rn....love your work! <33

People-Watching vs People Watching

Ron Speirs x reader

A/N: Anon, thank you so much for the compliment, and thank you so much for trusting me to write this idea -- I had a lot of fun with it (mainly because I'm like halfway through with Fierce Valor and got to sprinkle in more Speirs facts hehehe). This doesn't really take place between or during any episode, and the mission referred to later in the story is made up. So if anyone is looking for historical accuracy, this isn't it lol. (The usual disclaimer: this is written for the fictional depiction from the show -- no disrespect to the real life veterans!) And I hope you enjoy, Anon, because intelligence officer x Speirs is SUCH a good concept 🕊️💖

Warnings: war, blood, guns, drinking, the usual HBOWar things

From across the pub, Ron can hear you laugh politely at something one of the other officers has just said. Reason dictates that he could take his drink and cross the room to join the crowd, but he keeps holding himself back. Instead, he takes another sip of his drink.

"Funny, I should have known that you would be a pensive drunk. But part of me hoped that you would be a loud, fun one instead." Across the table from him, Nixon smirks before taking a sip of his own drink.

Ron sits up a little straighter. "I'm not drunk."

"No, I know. I don't expect anyone will ever see the day that Ron Speirs lets down his guard in that way. I just meant that everyone else with a drink in their hand seems happy, but you don't."

There are arguments that Ron could make in response to that. But how to explain to someone as laid-back and extroverted as Lewis Nixon that he, Ron, is more of a reserved introvert who prefers people-watching to people watching? It's just his nature.

Across the pub, the group laughs again. Nixon's eyes flicker between it and Ron. "Oooh. Okay."

"What?"

Nixon leans back in his chair with a smile.

"What?"

"The new intelligence officer," Nixon says. "(Y/N). It's her, isn't it?"

Ron is thankful that, even with the alcohol that's starting to warm him from inside, he's always been good at keeping his emotions off his face, and that he's not prone to blushing. He's able to keep it cool when he asks, "What are you talking about?"

The captain in front of him just laughs. "Oh come on, Speirs. I'm an intelligence officer. It's my job to notice things. Don't deny it," he adds quickly. "Liking someone is nothing to be embarrassed about. Have you spoken to her?"

"No," Ron admits. He's not shy around girls. He's flirted before. But there's a war going on. And you're a fellow officer. There are probably rules against fraternization, and he would rather not find out what the consequence of breaking those rules is. So when Ron says he hasn't spoken to you, it's not because he's afraid to do it, but because he doesn't trust his heart not to betray him and convince him to put something above his duties in the war. Duties which, he reminds himself, he worked very hard for.

Not to mention the gnawing thought at the back of his mind that keeps telling him that he won't even survive the war.

A crease forms between Nixon's eyebrows as he mulls over Ron's short answer. "Well, are you planning to?"

"I would imagine that I'll have to speak to her at some point, as a fellow officer."

"Well, as a fellow intelligence officer, I talk to her all the time." His smile is cheeky. Even though he's inebriated -- but then again, when is he not? -- anyone could see the wheels turning in his mind as he forms a plan. "You want me to find out more about her, see if she likes anyone? You know, like a wingman?"

Ron almost scoffs. Studying at an all boys military school growing up deprived him of certain childhood experiences, but from what he heard his older sisters say about crushes and public school drama, this seems a bit like some silly high school romance idea.

"Gathering intelligence on a fellow intelligence officer," he muses instead. "That doesn't seem too smart, somehow."

Nixon twists his glass in his hand, eyebrows drawn as he looks towards you across the pub. "Don't worry, Ron. I'll figure something out."

Sometimes it's easier not to argue with someone who's drunk. Sometimes it's easier to let them think that they've won, and then be grateful in the morning when it becomes clear that they've forgotten everything from the night before.

"Sure thing." Ron downs the rest of his glass and stands, offering Nixon a nod before he heads off across the pub, straight for the door.

But behind him, a slow smile has started to creep across Nixon's face as he watches his fellow officer go. If Ron thought that he would get out of this with ease, he was sorely mistaken; it doesn't pay to underestimate Lewis Nixon when he sets his mind to something.

--

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102 notes - Posted October 5, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[gendryw4ters-blog]

51 and LuzToye, please! Thank you!

Aaah thankyou so much for this omg!

send me a pairing and a number and i’ll write you a drabble

“What the hell are you wearing?”

“What? ‘s fucking cold, leave me alone.”

“George,” and Joe was trying his best to be stern, he really was, but the sight of his boyfriend buried under layers upon layers of questionable knitwear- and what looked to be not one, but three pairs of Joe’s sweatpants- was just a little too much. A soft laugh escaped his lips as he shed his own jacket and scarf, followed by another, and another; until there he stood there almost shaking with it. “George, c’mon, it’s not that cold-”

“Yes it is Joe!” George (who at this Joe had figured was essentially a sentient ball of wool) had whined from somewhere within his cocoon. “Yes it is. It’s freezing and the thermostat is broken again and I couldn’t call you because my phone’s out of credit and- hey!”

Joe’s laughter only increased as George’s hands feebly began to swipe at him in protest as the layers were peeled off one by one, until at last Joe could actually make out his boyfriend’s pouting face.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” 

“Put me back in there Joe or so help me god I’ll-” 

And the kiss Joe pulled him in for had shut him up long enough to hear the soft murmur of “come on, there are better ways to warm up than this,” that followed it- and George was pretty sure that his cheeks might’ve been burning hot enough to keep their small apartment warm enough for decades.

[shiftyskip]

Joseph “Joe” David Liebgott

The Real Joseph Liebgott:

Joseph David Liebgott was born in Lansing, Michigan in May 17, 1915 to Joseph (Josef) Liebgott Sr and Mary. Joseph Liebgott Sr was of German descent, but he was born in Beresztocz, Hungary. Joe’s mother was Yugoslavian, but was reported as born in either Yugoslavia or Hungary I am not sure which one because records show both. On his father’s side his grandparents were Yugoslavian as well. On his mother’s sider, they seem to be from Hungary. His mother immigrated in 1909, Lieb’s father immigrated in 1912.

Below is a picture believed to be his parents. 

 He was the oldest of his siblings. He has four sisters: Mary, Elizabeth, Anna, and Barbara, and one brother, Stephen/Steffen . Both of his parents spoke German, which would later help him during the war. His father worked in the auto industry before they moved. 

His family soon moved to California around 1927 and his dad became a barber. He was the oldest of his siblings, one brother and four sisters. He was extremely protective of his younger sisters

Liebgott and his siblings attended Catholic schools. This is where learned how to box and played soccer.

After high school, Liebgott drove a taxi around San Francisco. This career was temporary and he soon attended barber college.

He was also previously married before the war. He was married in July 31, 1933  to  a woman named Frances. They had one child, David Albert together on February 27, 1934. But the couple soon divorced within a year, and he was living with his family again by 1940, where he was working on a forestry project. Meanwhile his ex-wife and son moved into her family. Here is Joe and Frances:

He eventually became a barber and this was his career when he enlisted at the age of 26. Liebgott chose the paratroopers to be able to make more money to be able to put a down payment on his parents’ house. 

Included is a photo of Joe and his mother

He has a Jewish service card, registered under his mother’s name. But his family denied he was Jewish, stating he was a German Roman Catholic. I’ll attach it below (filtered for safety). 

In his draft card he is listed as 5 feet and 5 inches tall and was 109 pounds. He had blue-grey eyes and brown hair.

Malarkey remembers meeting Liebgott on his way to Toccoa where they became part of the original Toccoa men. Liebgott was trained under the harsh command of Herbert Sobel.

Liebgott didn’t talk much about the war, so there will be little but other’s words to put here. This is a photo from 1945 in France.

Right before the jump out of the airplane, he put his barber skills to use and gave a few of the men Mohawks. 

He would jump out of the airplanes with the rest of the men on June 6, 1944. He received the bronze star for his bravery at Brecourt Manor, where he worked with Winters and several other men, Compton, Guarenere, Wynn, Lipton, Toye, Malarkey, and Ranney to destroy a German Battery firing on Utah Beach on the day of the D-Day Invasion.

He cut off the finger of a German that he had bayoneted and took the man’s ring near Carentan. At Carentan, Ed Tipper was seriously wounded after clearing out a house with Liebgott. Liebgott grabbed Tipper, yelled for a medic, and told Tipper that he’d be okay. Welsh and Lieb dragged Tipper into the street until Welsh could get him back to the aid station.

After Brecourt, Compton recalls a painful memory with Liebgott in his book, Call of Duty, Compton and Liebgott were patrolling along hedges at dusk. Across the way, in another set of hedges were two men. Both were dressed in German ponchos, one was holding a German gun. Assuming that these men were in fact German, he and Liebgott shot the men. Come to find out, when they checked their dog tags, they were not Germans. They were Americans. They had just killed fellow soldiers in friendly fire.

October 5, 1944. Winters sent a few Youmen out on patrol to take an outpost near a windmill. Liebgott and a few other men (James Alley among them) went with Sgt. Youmen. They sent one man ahead, to look out over the dike. The man spotted German machine guns. German voices approached the remaining boys. Lieb called out for the Youman, as we was trailing behind, only to have grenades thrown at him and the other men. Liebgott got minor wounds while James Alley received 32 shrapnel wounds in his left side, stretching from his face down. They’d run into a company of SS.

Liebgott was known for being rough with prisoners, the fighting that followed the injuries wit the SS company was a prime example of this. After Winters led his patrol to attack these Germans, in which during the fighting they lost William Dukeman, 7 Germans surrendered. The most famous story of Liebgott is as follows, in Dick Winter’s words.

As Winters explains in his book, “Tech/5 Joseph D. Liebgott had been slightly wounded in the arm, but he was ambulatory so I assigned him the mission of escorting seven German prisoners to the rear. Liebgott had earned the reputation of being one of Easy’s best combat soldiers, but we had all heard stories that he was very rough on prisoners. Liebgott was one of Easy Company’s “killers,” so I deemed  it appropriate to take a bit of caution. When he heard me say, “Take the prisoners back to the battalion command post,” he replied. “Oh, boy! I’ll take care of them.” In his exuberance, Liebgott stood up and paced back and forth and he was obviously very nervous and concerned. I stopped him in his tracks. “There are seven prisoners and I want seven prisoners turned over to battalion.” Liebgott was highly incensed and started to throw a tantrum.Somewhat unsure of how he would react, I then dropped my M-1 to my hip, threw off my safety, and said, Liebgott, drop all your ammunition and empty your rifle.” There was much grumbling and swearing, but he did as I had ordered. “Now,” I said, “you can put one round in your rifle. If you drop a prisoner, the rest will jump you.””

Liebgott got all 7 prisoners back.  

Joe would recover in a hospital in England with Webster, but he was back before Bastogne. Here is the record for that: 

Name:Joseph D Liebgott Race:White, includes Mexican (White) Rank:Enlisted Man Admission Age:29 Birth Date:abt 1915 Admission Date:Oct 1944 Discharge Date:Nov 1944 Military Branch:Infantry, Parachute Troops or Units Diagnosis:FirstLocation: Ulna, generally; CausativeAgent: Artillery Shell, Fragments, Afoot or unspecified Type of Injury:Casualty, battle Injured in Line of Duty:In line of duty Type of Discharge:Duty Length of service:2 Year(s), 6 Month(s)

In Bastogne, Winters made him a runner to get away from the tension and constant stress of fighting.  One story of his service was outside of Foy is the battle of Noville, he and Earl Hale ducked into a barn and took 6 SS officers prisoner. Outside the barn, a shell exploded. One of the SS officers took this as an opportunity and jumped Hale. He slit Hale’s throat. Liebgott instantly shot and killed the officer. He then killed the others. Hale survived miracuously. 

At some point, before the end of the war, Liebgott became first platoon’s interpreter-radioman. This was because he could speak some German. But Webster claimed in his book that the German’s didn’t understand his Yiddish. 

He was with Webster when they took Hitler’s Nest. They spent their time drinking Hitler’s alcohol together with a few other men. He was living with Headquarters Company while there.  

Of course, the war came to an end and everyone who wanted to was discharged.

Over the course of the war, Lieb was injured 3 times and won 3 purple hearts. He refused one because the wound was “just a scratch”. He would receive partial disability for his wounds.

When he returned home, he disappeared for two years. Eventually he was found living in  Yuma, California. He didn’t come to reunions, even when offered multiple times. His father simply told the vets “not to mess with him”. 

After the war, Liebgott was a barber for a short time. He married again to a woman named Peggy in 1949. They had eight kids together. Making Lieb’s total children come to nine, although he was mostly involved with the last eight. They lived on a barber’s salary, not leaving much room for fun activities but everyone had their basic needs met. He often  only had one day a week off and would take his kids to a Long Beach pike, where they would visit an amusement park. 

Liebgott liked to bet on the ponies at the racetrack. Every other sunday, him and his boss would take the boss’ airplane down to Mexico.

He is believed to have never contacted anyone from his days in Easy Company. He just wanted to get away from the war. 

The Liebgotts divorced in  April of 1969. She remarried, but he never did. He was described as really quiet by his granddaughter. 

She states, in Marcus Brotherton’s book Company of Heroes (pages 120-121) “His hands looked like a man who worked with his hands, sunspots all over. He absolutely loved his grandkids. he had false teeth that he flipped out of his mouth and smiled, threatening to kiss us with his gums. He was a tickler. He never held babies over his shoulder...because he wanted them to see everything....He didn’t have a lot of money - I’m pretty sure all he had was his veteran’s benefits...He made all of the bikes for the grandkids by scouring thrift stores for dilapidated bikes. He stripped the bikes down to their frame, fixed and assembled them as good as new. He let each grandchild pick the color of new paint for his or her bike....I always knew the specific foods we were going to eat at his house. He had bite-sized candy bars and store brand soda-pop. There was no drinking water in his house. He always lived in rental houses...” 

He was very neat, and keep his house and appearance orderly. However, he was always working in the garage, so the house had black smudges from the dirt on his hands. 

However, Liebgott was not perfect. While he hated the Nazis, he was also seen as a bigot, maybe even harsher. Rhonda explained that he threw the n word around like it wasn’t a big deal. He blamed the wrong goings of the world on different ethnic groups. Rhonda started seeing a guy from El Salvador, he asked if her partner “even spoke English?”

As he grew older, Lieb got sicker. He eventually lost the use of one of his legs from a hernia. He was confined to a chair and hated any new technology. He was stuck in a wheelchair, angry when he would hit a cabinet. 

Lieb did not talk about his military career until towards his end. He would spend time with his son Jim, watching tv talking about the war during a war movie.  He would talk about the war when he was mad, possibly angry at himself for doing a lot of killing and other things that people his age shouldn’t have to do.

In 1992, Liebgott developed a tumor in his neck, near his windpipe that would cause a lot of pain. Jim took him to the hospital on Father’s Day. Shortly later, on June 28, 1992 Liebgott died. He was against a funeral and just wanted to be cremated, so his family did as he wished. They still have his ashes and letters and the Toccoa book. 

[its-a-can-of-peaches-siir]

Joe Toye

Tonight was the night you finally got to dress up and actually look like a women. Most of easy were in Paris as everyone had a week off to do what ever they wanted. You had followed a hand full of easy men to pairs to have some fun.

You had tagged along with Chuck, Liebgott, Bill, Floyd, George and Joe Toye. These men were probably the ones you were most closest to in the company.

Joe though you had developed feelings for, you didn't know what it was about him but his dark brown eyes made your belly turn and his sexy husky voice made you weak at the knees. You just knew you liked Joe very much.

Tonight everyone had decided to go out and have some fun so you brought a dress and you knew you were going to break some hearts tonight with it, the only heart you cared about though was joe's.

"Harriet come on we'll be late!" Lieb yelled through the door, you put your heels on and opened the door, all eyes turned and mouths dropped open.

"Alright I'm ready, close your mouths gentlemen please" you smirked as you shut the door and walked past all of them. Floyd gave a low whistle and walked after you as did George and chuck. The sound of your heels travelling all the way back to Bill and both joes who stood there like a deer in headlights.

"Fuck me joe you better make a move on her or I'm gonna" Joe glared at Liebgott as he jogged off to catch up with you and the others. Bill patted joes shoulder.

"I'm afraid old lieb is right Joe" Joe didn't say anything other then walk off with Bill behind him.

He couldn't believe his eyes, you were absolutely breath taking in your red dress, red definitely suited you, he reminded himself to tell you that.

Once you all got to a pub you all took your seats and ordered some drinks, it was nice to actually relax a little, even if it was only for a couple of days.

Bill and chuck came back with everyone's drinks and started talking about who was going to get the first pick of the French ladies walking around. Floyd of course thought he was going to be the first.

You were sat beside both joes, one on each side of you.

You looked to your left and saw Toye fiddling with his fingers. Something was up with him you thought.

As you picked up your drink off the table you felt a tap on your shoulder, turning around to saw a British Paratrooper.

"Can I help you?" You asked while looking up at him.

"Yes ma'am I was wondering if you'd like a dance?" He gave you a smile and you smiled back, you hadn't seen the way Toye gripped his glass while watching the whole interaction. Liebgott smirked knowing Toye was getting jealous, him as well as the other boys had told Joe to make a move on you before someone else did.

And here was someone else Making a move right in front of him.

Before you answered him you looked at Toye, he just smiled at you and looked down. You really liked Joe and even though he hadn't told you he liked you you just knew he did, it was obvious in all his actions. You just wanted him to make the first move, it looked like it wasn't going to happen. Looking back up at the guy you smiled.

"Sure why not" getting up you took the guys hand and walked to the dance floor, maybe making Joe a little jealous will work?

Joe watched you go and groaned while putting his head in his hands. Why can't he just tell you he thought. And the answer was because he was scared you'd laugh in his face and reject him.

"Joe mate you need to just tell her" looking up he saw Bill raising an eyebrow at him. Nodding his head Liebgott patted his shoulder and nodded towards you, you were just walking back over to them.

Sitting down you sighed while taking a drink from your glass.

"Have fun?" Bill asked with a grin and you scoffed.

"Hardly cool that having fun Bill" he chuckled while looking up at you as his head was tilted downwards.

"Joe can I Uh talk to you for a moment?" You asked while turning to him, he looked up and just nodded. Getting up he followed and you walked outside with him not far behind.

"So whats up?" He asked while putting his hands in his jacket pocket. You sighed and walked a little closer to him.

"I know Joe" he looked at you confused and raised one eyebrow.

"Know what?" He asked and he stepped closer to you.

"That you like me, it's pretty obvious" he sighed and looked down. He muttered 'shit' under his breath, it made a smile appear on your face.

"Joe I like you as well" you hadn't seen him look up so fast in the time that you'd known him.

"You do?" He asked and you just nodded while putting your arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

"Yes Joe, this dress was actually for you, not for anyone else" you felt his hands rest on your hips and he looked down at your dress, his eyes lingering on your chest area a bit longer then normal.

It made you laugh.

"Is it really for me?" He asked while pulling you flush against him.

"Yes" you whispered in his ear and you heard his breath get court in his throat.

Joes hands slid up and down your sides and you felt him kiss your collar bone and then made his way up your neck.

"I suppose we better get out of here then?" He asked while pulling away to look at you.

"I think so" with that he picked you up and put you over his shoulder, you giggled as he made his way back to his room.

You felt his hands hold your bare thighs as you dangled over his shoulder, his hands were ruff but smooth at the same time.

As Joe walked away with you on his shoulder you couldn't help but blush at the thought of what he was going to do to you once you got to his room. It made you groan with anticipation.

[fromcrossroadstoking]

Indoor Camping

Luz can`t go camping, so Toye brings the camping to him.

(Fun fact: The Ghost Stories book incident is based on something that actually happened to me. It was a very unfortunate introduction to smut at the tender age of 9.)

Tags: @gottapenny @itisjustmethistime @indigosandviolets 

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

George isn`t his usual self and it`s a problem that`s been bothering Joe for two days now. Joe knows exactly what the issue is. He just isn`t sure how to fix it yet. But he damn well knows he needs to figure it out soon because George`s low mood is a very concerning thing.

Hell, a disappointed George Luz is one of the saddest sights on planet earth.

George`s blue mood began on Thursday. Thursday was the day George should have been bouncing around in the passenger seat of Joe`s car, singing along to every song on the radio, and excitedly jabbering Joe`s ear off for hours on end. The two of them should have been at the campground in Maine by dinner.It should have been their second year attending the big annual Luz family camping trip together.

Instead, they were both stuck in (a very rainy) Philadelphia. George hadn`t been able to get the time off work and he was understandably upset about it. George had never, ever, in his twenty-two years on this planet, missed his family`s annual camping trip. Until this year. And it was breaking his heart.

Two days had now passed since that Thursday morning when they should have been leaving, but George`s funky mood had not followed suit and passed as well. So, when Joe woke up that Saturday to a still down in the dumps George, he decided enough was enough. He waited for George to head off to work before heading out himself to run a few errands. 

His first stop was the grocery store to pick up a few essentials; hot dogs, a bag of ice, graham crackers, marshmallows, Hershey bars, and a couple other items.

Next up was the dollar store for paper plates and several packages of glowsticks. As he headed to the checkout, he passed by a bin of books. Right on top of the pile was a book titled "Ghost Stories". Perfect. He added it to his basket.

Last on his list was a stop at the grocery store for some of George`s favorite beers. (He picked up a couple of his favorites too).

When he finally returned to the apartment, the real work began. He had a lot to do in a short amount of time, so he set about transforming the apartment immediately.

He pushed the sofa and love seat against the walls and moved the coffee table to the guest room. He then made a couple of trips to their storage in the basement to retrieve their tent, cooler, and sleeping bags.

Joe set the tent up in the living room and it ended up taking up almost the whole damn thing. He carefully made sure that they would have a clear line of sight from the tent`s opening to the television. He then laid out their sleeping bags, threw in a bunch of pillows, and called the tent set up done. To finish off the living room, he hung twinkle lights on the ceiling (it was as close as they were about to get to sleeping under the stars) and put the cooler, now filled with ice and beer, on the floor next to the tent.

Joe even got the kitchen in on the game. Pushing their tiny table to the far corner, he laid a picnic blanket on the floor and topped it off with a picnic basket. When he was finished, Joe took a moment to look around at his handiwork.

This has got to work.

~ 45 Minutes Later ~

As George returns home that day, he promises himself he`ll try harder to not be such a drag around Joe. He knows he hasn`t been in the best mood lately and he can`t help but worry that it`s starting to grate on Joe.

However, the second that George opens the door to their apartment, he knows he isn`t going to have to try very hard to act like he`s in a better mood. It seems Joe has transformed their place while he was gone into their own little campground and George can already feel his blues melting away. His face lights up like a kid at Christmas and he lets out a low whistle.

"You`ve been busy."

Joe pulls him in to a hug and greets him with a kiss. 

"Well, we can`t go camping, so I figured I`d bring the camping to us."

It`s more than George could have ever asked for. Joe even packed their dinner in a proper picnic basket and they have a picnic of sorts on their kitchen floor. They toast marshmallows (or at least attempt to) over the gas burners on their stove. They play card games and drink beer and chow down on trail mix. That night, Joe turns off all the lights except for the twinkle ones and George swears if he squints just right, they look just like the stars. Joe even plays a video of a campfire on loop on their television. And as they lay curled up in their tent, watching a virtual fire, and sipping on yet another round of beers, Joe presents him with one last surprise.

"Almost forgot. Got you this too."

Joe hands him a red book with Ghost Stories stamped on the cover in gold lettering.

"Ghost stories! Prepare for a scare, Joe Toye!" Luz says it in his best horror movie villain voice and Joe just snorts (a ghost story hasn`t scared him since he was five).

George cracks open the book and starts flipping through. Before long he`s laughing so hard tears are streaming down his face. 

"What`s so funny?"

"Joe!", is all George manages to get out before succumbing to another fit of laughter.

"What?"

George does his best to collect himself.

"Joe, how closely did you look at this book?"

Joe shrugs, "It said Ghost Stories on it, so I bought it. Why?"

George`s eyes are bright with barely constrained amusement.

"Joe, my love, these are naughty ghost stories. Very naughty ghost stories." George widens his eyes for emphasis.

"What? No. It was in a bin with children`s books and stuff!"

George clears his throat and begins to read from a random page in the middle of the book in his most ridiculous "sexy" voice, "The invisible presence began to stroke her, soft and slow,  right- "

Joe grabs the book from George`s hands and tosses it in to the corner of the tent.

"Okay, okay! I believe you. No need to read that shit out loud."

George collapses in another burst of laughter, arms clutching his ribs.

As Joe watches his boyfriend dissolve in hysterics, he can feel the unmistakable warmth of relief and happiness flood his body. 

A happy George Luz is one of the greatest sights on earth.

[justthinkingofwaystoavoidbusses]

Blindsided

Hi there! This is my first time requesting a B.O.B reader insert, but I was thinking that if you could make a reader!combat nurse/Joe Liebgott ( one sided Skip Muck) where the reader has a crush on her best & childhood friend, Skip Muck, but is blind by Joe’s feelings towards her. After Skip dies, the reader finds out that Joe’s comfort and friendship towards her slowly makes her fall in love with him. I know its kinda cheesy, but I hope you would accept it! - anon

A/N- sorry this has taken so long but I may have gotten a little carried away, this has taken like three weeks to write and got way longer than i intended but i hope you like it

—

Faye Tanner was perfect in every way. She was sweet, beautiful and funny, you couldn’t even hate her. There was no question as to why Skip had fallen in love with her. Skip was your best friend and always had been, you couldn’t remember a time in your life when he wasn’t in it, you realised that somewhere along the way you had fallen in love with him, only it was too late. He was in love with Faye Tanner, the girl who had moved into town a few months ago.

You tried to hate her, to find a flaw that made her unworthy, but she was perfect and nice and love him back. They were the perfect couple.

Skip didn’t stop hanging out with you, perhaps that would have been easier, he remained your best friend and you still did everything together with the notable addition of Faye. Then Hitler invaded Czechoslovakia and started a whole mess, when Skip joined up to fight you weren’t going to let him go alone. So, you joined up to be a combat nurse, by some miracle you were assigned to tag along with the company that Skip was in.

You trained separately to the company with the other nurses and occasionally the medics would join you, whenever you got the time you would seek out Skip and his new friends Penkala and Malarkey. He was always talking about Faye, it hurt but you kept a smile on your face - you didn’t want to ruin your best friend’s happiness. He talked about her so much that the whole company knew about sweet Faye Tanner.

Faye sent him a multitude of letters which would always have him gushing to you about her, you couldn’t stop the thoughts about what your life would be like if Skip felt the way he felt about Faye about you. You knew one thing for sure, Faye was the luckiest girl in the world.

—

The restaurant you had set up as a med bay was full of soldiers, most of which had been bandaged up by now. “I’m gonna go see if I can round anyone up,” you told Roe as you walked past and out into the streets of Carentan. You kept close to the walls lest there were any more German soldiers hidden.

You rounded a corner and saw a soldier holding another who was bloodied and lay on the floor. Rushing over you dropped next to them, “It’s Tipper,” you looked up and met Joe’s eyes. You pulled out some sulfa and began to sprinkle it over the wound on his face, eyeing his leg with concern.

“Go get a stretcher,” you order the other two soldiers who ran off quickly.

“Will he be okay?” Joe asked quietly.

“Of course,” you replied, though there was worry in your eyes. He needed some serious medical attention and soon. You patted Joe’s shoulder and helped him lift Tipper onto the stretcher the others had brought back and carry him back to the med bay.

—

You were laid out on the steps with Skip as the sun shined brightly on you, he and the guys were gossiping about Speirs who had supposedly gunned down 20 POW’s on D-Day. You were so enthralled by Skip’s story telling that you didn’t notice Liebgott looking at you from across the courtyard. “As long as he sticks to shooting POW’s then I don’t care,” you commented.

“Well I heard he shot his own sergeant,” Penkala countered.

“What?”

“No way!” you exclaimed, this was the first time since D-Day that everything felt almost normal again. Sitting around with Skip and your friends, laughing without a care in a world, though the absence of Faye did seem almost unsettling - you hated to admit that seeing Skip without her felt wrong now. You pushed the thought aside, this was the first time in forever that she hadn’t been at Skip’s side and you were going to enjoy this time together; it’d be like old times, with the notable addition of German artillery.

—

Everyone was going to London on 48 hour passes and Skip had saddled you into going with him, you managed to bag a window seat on the train with him and Malarkey before it got too jam packed. You paid half attention to their card game as you looked out the window, the two got on incredibly well - you didn’t even mind that Don could be considered Skip’s best friend because he was always so nice and genuine, plus Skip hadn’t edged you out because of him (he was too caring to do such a thing which was why you had fallen for him so hard).

London was busy and smoggy and so full of life, it was easy to get lost in the winding streets but somehow all of the easy boys had managed to end up in the same pub. A small live band played an uptempo tune, most of the guys were playing cards or flirting with the local girls. You stayed close to the bar as Skip and Penkala had a game of darts beside you and sipped at a beer, not your favourite drink but it was something to do. “We’re on leave, you’re supposed to look happy,” Joe smirked as he slid in next to you.

You shot him a smile and turned to face him, “Drinking beer at the back of a pub is hardly a girl’s idea of a good time.”

He smirked, “Well, then can I have this dance?”

You were a little shocked but nodded, “Sure thing.” You took his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor where a few other couples had congregated to dance to the band.

You swayed with him and let out a surprised squeal when he suddenly spun you outwards then tugged you back in, you gently collided with his chest. “Oh, that’s how you wanna play?” you laughed with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, ma’am,” Joe smirked.

“Don’t call me ma’am,” you restored as you tugged him suddenly into a correct dancing position and he let out a surprised ‘oof’. “I’d let you lead but I don’t think you’d know what to do,” you teased.

“That so?” He stepped you back and you were shocked that he knew the right steps to the dance, the two of you stepped quickly in time to the beat of the music not noticing the attention you began to get from the patrons sitting at the tables. Joe spun you around effortlessly maneuver the two of you across the dance floor, this was a thousand times better than watching the dart game you had already forgotten about.

The song cane to an end just as Joe dipped you, you received a round of applause and a few whistles as he brought you back up causing you to smile and duck your head to hide your blush. “That was really fun,” you grinned, the band started up a new song and the bar returned to their previous activities and Joe les you off to the side. “You’re such a great friend, Joe.”

You didn’t see his smile falter. “No problem,” he gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, though you had no idea why.

“Hey, Y/N, come over here!” Skip yelled across the bar.

“I’m coming,” you yelled back over your shoulder, “Thanks for the dance,” you smiled at Joe once more before making your way over to Skip.

—

Winters came up to you after the attack, you were patching up a small wound on a man whose finger had gotten jammed in his gun. “Y/L/N, can I speak to you for a second?”

“Of course, sir,” you tightened the bandage and stood up to face him, “What is it?”

“I just sent Liebgott back to HQ, he has a gunshot wound that I don’t think he’ll get patched up.”

You nodded with a frown, “I’m on it, sir.”

You caught up with Joe just as he had dropped off the German POW’s and your eyes instantly hones in on the bloodied bandage tied badly around your neck. “What the hell is this?” you cried, hands flying to his neck to assess the damage but he brushed your hands off.

“It’s fine.”

You shot him your best unimpressed look that you had to use on soldiers reluctant to have their wounds looked at. “Sit,” you stated firmly, pointing at the wooden boxes that lay outside the building.

With a roll of his eyes he sat and you knelt in front of him, you could feel his eyes on you as you undid the bandage and sprinkled some sulfa over the wound. “You’re lucky, it’s not infected. It’ll leave a scar, though,” you told him and tied a clean bandage securely around his neck.

Leaning back you made eye contact with him, “Keep it clean.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” you smiled as you packed up your aid kit.

His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite identify, “Must’ve forgot.”

—

You were sat next to Skip as you watched the film in front of you, it was your tenth time seeing it and Luz had been doing impressions for the last eight so you had learned by now sit as far away as possible from him.

“Skip! Come on! -Where you been?” Malarkey came into the screening, leaning over you to get to Skip and earning shushes from Lipton and Toye at the front.

“Well, l was at home in Tonawanda then Hitler started this, so now I’m here,” snarked Skip and you chuckled quietly.

“How’d you make out in craps?” you asked Malarkey.

He grinned and produced a wad of cash and handed over to Skip, “Here’s the $60 l borrowed.”

“You’re paying me back?” Skip asked incredulously, no one ever got the money back that they had borrowed other guys.

“And as thank-you,”

“Surprising.”

“A tip!” Malarkey gleefully handed over another handful of cash.

“Jesus!”

“Shut up!”

“Only $3600 left.”

“What’ll you do with that?” you asked.

“Blow most of it in Paris as soon as possible.”

���Give me a tip.”

It was not to be, the movie got shut off and you were told that you were going to be shuffled onto the front line again. You had no food supplies, ammo or winter clothing. You were fucked.

—

You were squished into the back of a truck, pressed against Joe’s side and desperately trying to steal warmth from the guys around you, you had tried to get in next to Skip but the truck had filled up too quickly leaving you exposed to the frosty air at the back of the truck with Joe.

“Christ I miss those C-47’s,” Guarnere complained and you were inclined to agree.

“Where are we going with no ammo?” someone question, as a combat nurse you couldn’t carry a gun but not that it would make much of a difference. You could feel it in your bones that you were all walking into something bad.

“Hey, kid, what’s your name?” another guy bothered a replacement.

“Suerth Jr.”

“You got any ammo junior?”

“Just what I’m carrying.”

“Any extra socks?”

“A pair.”

“You need four minimum,” Skip piped up, “Feet, neck, hands, balls.”

“Extra sock warms them all,” you chimed in with the rest of the guys with a small smile that was tucked away in your jacket collar.

Skip laughed, “Good, we all remember that one. But did we remember the socks!?”

“I want a cigarette.”

“I want ammo and socks.”

“I bet juniors got plenty of both.” The replacement protested but the guys were all throwing requests at him.

“A hat?”

“Extra ammo?”

“An aid kit?” you chipped in, knowing you’d need all you can get your hands on.

“How about a coat? You got a coat?” Joe asked.

Someone figured out he had smokes which quickly got passed around, you didn’t smoke yourself but you appreciated the hot smoke that was coming off the end of Joe’s right next to you even if it was only minuscule.

—

You shivered against a tree and scooped up a spoonful of beans, you were sick of Bastogne. As if the cold wasn’t bad enough you were called out of the safety of your foxhole during almost every barrage or after to treat another man severely wounded, with no aid kits to go around. You were using bed sheets from the hospital in the town.

The only thing you couldn’t complain about was the company, you watched with a grin as Skip narrated the wounds the guys had garnered since Normandy. “George Luz has never been hit, you’re one lucky bastard, George.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Ah, consider us blessed.”

“Better keep it that way gentlemen,” you tossed over, you smiled but it was the truth that you never wanted to treat another friend.

“You bet,” Skip winked at you and your heart fluttered, you ducked your head to hide your blush, glad that the cold made your cheeks flushed already.

—

“Hey, Y/N, can I talk to you for a second?” Lipton crouched at the edge of your foxhole.

“Sure, what is it?” you flashed him a smile. He sighed heavily and looked away and a bad feeling settled into your gut. “What is it? Is someone hurt?” You stood up in an instant.

You were halfway out of your foxhole when- “It’s Skip.” Your heart stopped cold.

“Is-is he okay? How bad is he hurt?” you asked frantically.

Lipton sighed heavily and shook his head, “I’m sorry.”

You swallowed hard, “Where?” your voice was thick and your eyes stung but no tears fell.

Lipton lead you over to a crater that was already being covered with a dusting of snow. This was where it had happened. This was his foxhole. Here one minute and gone the next. It was a direct hit. You vaguely registered the chatter of the men around you, Muck and Penkala.

In the corner of your eye you saw Luz hand Malarkey a piece of broken rosary but your eyes were fixed on the foxhole. He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to be alive and go home and marry Faye and have babies and live a long happy life.

Luz came and stood next to you, snapping your attention away from the ground. “I saw it happen.”

“Was he in pain?” you asked, you could barely hear yourself your mind was so full of grief.

“No,” Luz shook his head, “No, they didn’t feel a thing.”

Eventually they began to filter away until only you and Malarkey remained, both overcome with sorrow and unable to express it.

Malarkey held out the broken rosary, “You should have this, you were his best friend.”

You glanced at the rosary in his outstretched palm, thinking back of the perfect choir boy he had been when he wasn’t getting himself in danger, you closed Malarkey’s fingers back around the rosary and shook your head. “No, he would have wanted you to have it.” There was no way you could have faith in God after this.

You gave him a sad smile and patted his shoulder as you walked away, Malarkey was the only one who came close to knowing exactly what you were going through. The only difference being he wasn’t secretly in love with your mutual best friend, at least as far as you were aware. But you couldn’t bring yourself to stay with him, you had duties and now wasn’t a time to grieve.

Someone had to answer the calls for medic, someone had to tell Faye, someone had to make sure everyone was doing alright. It had to be you and you wouldn’t lose yourself to this loss, not now when you were on the front lines.

—

You heard snow crunch above you and you tensed, relaxing when you saw Joe’s silhouette appear at the edge of your foxhole and crouch. “Lieb? Do you need something?”

“You got a foxhole buddy?” he asked.

“No, hop in.” Joe jumped in and sat next to you, it wasn’t much but the extra warmth was appreciated as you tossed your blanket over him and squished into his side.

“How you doing?” he asked quietly and you instantly knew what he meant.

Despite your earlier promise to push off the grief you couldn’t stop your eyes welling up and your throat becoming thick, “It’s not fair.” That was the sentence that broke the dam, tears fell freely and you shook from the sobs and the cold.

Joe wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him as you sobbed silently against his chest, “It’s okay,” he murmured, “It’ll be okay.”

—

You don’t know how it happened but you found yourself coming back to Joe often, no matter which foxhole he was staying in. He was the only one of the guys (barring Skip) who had ever seen you cry, seen you so vulnerable and the fact that he didn’t blab about it sparked a connection.

It was easy to feel overcome with misery as you watched Foy endlessly and hid away during barrages, losing yet another friend in your arms. Joe was a comfort, a small relief from the horrors you faced daily.

“Hey, Joe,” you slid in next to him, your teeth chattering. After a moment’s hesitation Joe wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close to warm you up. You smirked, “Cuddling, Leib? Didn’t take you as the type.”

“Shut up, it’s cold,” he reasoned.

“Sure,” you rolled your eyes with a small smile, noting that your teeth had at least stopped chattering.

—

“Smoke?”

“Sure.”

Joe couldn’t contain his surprise when you plucked the lit cigarette from him and took a drag, by now so used to the smoke permeating from the boys that you only choked a little.

“What’s with the change of heart?”

“We might die today.”

“We might die every day,” Joe pointed out.

“Today in particular.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Joe sighed as you looked out across the open field before Foy. Dike had asked you to stick with him and Luz during the assault, maybe it was because he didn’t trust you or maybe it was because he didn’t want to have to wait for a medic if he got hit. Either way you were unhappy with the choice.

You smoked the cigarette until it was burning your fingers and crushed it into the snow beneath your boot. You were not going to die today.

“I’ll see you on the other side, alright?” Joe squeezed your shoulder and went to join his platoon.

—

Speirs was a godsend, bat shit crazy but you were glad he was on your side. Morale was significantly raised, Dike was done for and we had captured the town we had been looking over for a month. You were stood next to the soldiers on the tank who were singing for the cameras when a gunshot sounded.

A man above you fell from the tank, just as you were about to check another shot sounded at the same time as you felt something embed in your stomach. You fell back to the ground as a searing pain spread through your abdomen.

You were unaware of the chaos as you stared up at the sky, it was grey and clouds swirled above. You couldn’t feel the cold, though you shivered and convulsed as warm blood spilled over your fingers, down your wrists, spread across your OD’s.

A muffled shot, applaud, then Joe’s face appeared above yours and blocked out the sky. His lips were moving but you couldn’t hear what he was saying, more faces gathered in your vision but you couldn’t focus on any other than Joe’s frantic face. You tried to speak but your tongue was heavy, you were so tired. You were going to die today. Your eyes slipped shut and someone patted your cheek gently, then hard.

Snapping your eyes open you saw Roe had taken Joe’s place, his eyes full of fury and worry at the same time.

At the same time as the voices could be heard again a sharp pain sparked through you. You screamed out in pain.

“Stop it! You’re hurting her!” Joe’s voice yelled near you.

“There’s no exit wound. Gotta get the bullet out,” Roe snapped back, jaw clenched as his fingers dug into your open wound.

The pain lasted for 15 more agonising seconds before he procured the bullet and tossed the crumpled bloodied metal aside. It was a strange relief and you sagged against someone who had propped you up into a sitting position. You could feel the blood pulsing heavier now.

Roe expertly sprinkled half a pack of sulfa, all he had left, and tied a bandage tightly around you. You glanced down and saw the pool of blood on your clothes and snow around you, you had gotten so used to seeing it but it still shocked you.

“Will she be okay?” You heard Joe ask, you realised he was the person who you were leaning back against.

Roe gave a nod, “She’ll live.”

—

Despite the thought that you would be taken off the line the company pressed on, Noville and Rachamps were next on the list. You weren’t allowed to take part, obviously, but there was no aid station nearby. You hung back with Perconte and a few others, unsettled by the sounds of the battle you couldn’t help with.

At the end of it all the company was given board in a church, the first time you had slept indoors in a month. Perconte was laid out on a stretcher near you and you were sat next to Joe on a pew. The bullet hadn’t hit anything major so you knew you’d be back soon, and the guys were getting pulled off the line tomorrow anyway.

All you wanted to do was sleep but you wanted to savour this moment, safe, warm and listening to the sweet voices of the choir. It reminded you of being dragged to church back home, sitting next to Faye as Skip sang in the boys choir. It still hurt to think of Skip, you wondered if Faye knew yet, what surprised you was that though the pain of his loss was deep for the first time you weren’t associating Faye with your unrequited love.

Skip would always be your first love but maybe now he was gone you could move on, maybe that sounded selfish but you knew that he wouldn’t want you or Faye to be hung up over him. Joe had played a big part in keeping you sane, you wished you could have done more to help Malarkey who was sinking into himself like you would have done if not for Joe.

“What are you thinking about?” Joe whispered.

“Everything.”

Nothing else needed to be said, the choir began another soft song that you didn’t know the words to. You reached an laced your fingers with Joe’s which layed on his leg. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Joe look at you in surprise but you kept your gaze forward on the choir until he too averted his eyes from you. Finally you let your eyes slip shut, warm and content with Joe’s hand in yours.

—

Webster walked along the line of trucks trying to find second platoon, finally he recognised the guys on the back. “This second platoon.” The men looked at him silently. “Some lieutenant from first told me to come here.”

“Yeah this is second.”

“Jackson, right? Help me up?” Jackson reluctantly helped pull him up onto the truck and he looked down at the few men on the back of the truck.

“So, you just got back from the from the hospital?” Jackson asked

“Yeah.”

“Must have liked that hospital, because we left Holland four months ago,” Liebgott inputted, not looking at him.

“l wasn’t only there. There was rehab, the replacement depot,” Webster tried to explain.

“I’m sure you tried to bust out and help us in Bastogne..”

“How would l have done that?”

“Popeye found a way. So did Alley, back in Holland. And Guarnere–”

“Where is Guarnere? He still platoon sergeant?” “No.”

“Well where’s Y/L/N? She get transferred?” Webster asked, noting the lack of their female combat medic.

He saw Joe tense up, “No,” he bit out, “She got shot. Sniper in Foy.”

“Is she going home?”

Joe scoffed, “She’ll be back.”

“Let’s go.”

“Bill got hit in January,” Babe said as they hopped off the truck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, he got hit. Blew his whole leg off.”

—

The aid station was hell, there were hardly enough beds or supplies but thankfully you managed to stay with Perconte who was on the bed next to you.

You were both were healing nicely, well at least enough to go AWOL so you didn’t get lumped in with a new company. Easy hadn’t been pulled off the line and they needed whatever help they could get. You had been keeping an eye on the rounds the nurses made looking for the right opportunity, you were both dressed in clean uniforms and showered (what a fucking blessing) and you were anxious to get back to the guys, back to Joe.

You managed to sneak out of the hospital and hitch a ride to the city centre, badgering people on where Easy was until you caught word of a small town named Hagenau near the Rhine. That was where you had to go, you got a ride on the back of a runner’s truck and you bounced your leg the whole time.

The town was drab and grey, mortar damage evident. “Where shall we start?” Perconte asked.

“Supply room?”

“Of course.”

You heard squabbling coming from within, recognising the lilt of Joe’s voice, there was some very serious talk of hershey bars. Frank stepped into the room first and you followed after him, you were surprised to see Webster back amongst the men and a new Lieutenant which was less surprising. “Hey fellas.”

The group turned their attention to the two of you standing in the doorway. Joe’s face lit up at the sight of you and you gave him a beaming smile back. Martin came over and slung his arms around yours and Percontes shoulders, “Would you look at that? I try and get these two out of the war and they come straight back.”

“No kidding, I’d be lost without my boys,” you grinned and walked over to join the group. You stood next to Joe, “Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi back,” he whispered.

“Here’s a hershey bar,” George tossed Perconte a chocolate bar, “And for the lovely medic,” he passed you one and winked exaggeratedly.

“Such a charmer,” you flirted back, a large amused smirk on your face. George was the first one to break character and laugh, you followed seconds after.

“They get a fucking hershey bar?” Joe asked indignantly.

George shrugged unapologetically, “They got shot in combat.”

“I’ll share mine,” you told Joe quietly, glad to see a small smile slip back on his face.

“I heard the Germans are done for,” Perconte said as he waddled over.

You saw everyone shift. “Yeah well just to make sure they want us to row across the river tonight, grab a few and make sure.”

“You’re serious?”

“Wish I was. Welcome back Frank.”

You sighed, you were officially sick of war.

—

You watched Joe speak German to the prisoners of the camp, there were too many thin frail bodies in the crowd to get to him yourself. You saw him collapse onto the truck bench and the other soldiers began to herd them back into the camp, you pushed on through the crowd and sat next to Joe who was still sobbing.

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him to you, Joe clung to you tightly as he cried for his people and what he just had to do. No words were said, they didn’t need to be, you would always be there to comfort one another without judgement. It was just how you worked.

—

“Do you have enough points?”

“No. You?”

“No.”

You sighed, you were sick of the waiting game to jump into Japan. You heard through the rumour mill that Winters had applied to transfer to the 13th airborne to get it over with and you were tempted to do the same but you couldn’t leave easy. You couldn’t leave Joe.

For months now you had been pushing aside your feelings towards Joe. Perhaps it was the relative peace you now lived in, the rolling hills and glistening lakes did little to quell these thoughts. You didn’t know when they began, was it Bastogne or even earlier? Either way they were here and didn’t seem to be going away anytime soon, you always did fall much too deeply.

“If we make it out of Japan what’ll you do?” Joe asked. The two of you were laying back in a field, enjoying the sun and cloud watching having just come off from patrol duty.

“I never really thought about it,” you admitted, “What about you?”

“Get my job back at the cab company.”

“What if we never see eachother again?” you thought out loud.

Joe turned his head to look at you, “We would if you moved to San Francisco.”

You huffed a laugh, “And where would I live in San Fran?”

Joe bit his lip, “You could live with me.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Joe huffed, turning away from you, “Don’t act like it’s such a big deal.”

You rolled your eyes and tugged him back to look at you, before you could lose your nerve you planted a kiss on his lips. “I’d love to. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Joe smiled, pulling you back so he could kiss you again.

****

A/N- This was hell to write, let me just tell you. I have no idea how to write cheesy fluffy things so I hope this is good enough for you. Thanks for reading xxx

[unaduessa]

Words Like Knives

Getting into a heated argument with Toye and you both sitting on high tension. "Maybe people keep away from you because they don't want to put up with someone so fucking cynical," you spat before you could stop the words. You catch yourself and look over at Toye to see him frozen, looking at you with tears welling in his eyes and jaw clenched. "Is that how you feel?"

For @fandomscenariosforyou​

Also on AO3 here

You and Joe had been combative from the beginning.

Your aid station had been getting men from Bastogne regularly after the town was bombed, so two more weren't that special. That is, until they were. The loud one, his dog tags labeled him "Guarnere", never seemed to shut up even through the morphine you gave him for his leg. He had matching wounds with the man beside him, a quieter man whose dog tags read "Toye." Toye tended not to run his mouth the way Guarnere did, but he made up for it in being an awful flirt. Neither were real problems, probably because neither could stand, but they could get on your nerves. You didn't give any of the men any free asses, and you weren't going to make exceptions for those two, missing limbs or not.

You might have blamed it on the morphine, except for the fact that you knew Toye hadn't asked for any for two days. You'd been finishing redressing Guarnere's leg after checking for infection, ignoring Toye as he tried to talk you into going out with him once he was "out of this hell hole, come on doll, I promise you'll love it." He wasn't the first to try to get under your skin, and you knew he wouldn't be the last, but you honestly didn't expect him to get handsy.

You were just about to walk away when you felt a hand on your backside, making you jump, and the smug look on Toye's face was all you needed to give him a good smack. The fact that you'd smacked him probably shocked him more than the actual blow, but you didn't care, you were livid.

"You're a fucking paratrooper and you're wounded, but that don't give you no excuse to be a fucking asshole," you snapped before storming off. He apologized the next time you came over, he following day. After that, he was better behaved, but that didn't stop him from asking you to go out with him "just for drinks, it'll be fun, please beautiful?"

Beautiful. He always called you beautiful. You could come in with blood up to your forearms and your hair plastered to your face with sweat and he'd still call you beautiful. You'd brushed it off as meaningless flirting, but after a few weeks, you'd come over to change his bandages and he'd been fast asleep.

"Morphine," Guarnere told you, before you even asked, "he hasn't been sleepin', so boss lady gave him some to knock him out." You nodded before getting to changing the dressings, being careful to be more gentle that usual so he wouldn't wake up, just in case the morphine was wearing off.

"Ya know," Guarnere spoke up after a few minutes. You turned your head to look at him so he knew you were listening before looking back at your hands. "He really is head over heels for ya. Has been since you gave him that whack." You laughed quietly and shook your head.

"He just ain’t seen a pretty girl in a year. He'll shake it off," you brushed off, but he shook his head.

"Nah, I ain't never seen him like this. It's actually kinda pathetic if you ask me, the way he's always talkin' about ya and smilin' like an idiot when ya come over."

The next time you went over to their beds, you promised Toye that if he behaved, you'd think about that date. He told you to call him Joe.

A year later, you're living with him in Pennsylvania. Usually you kept your arguments to a minimum, if only for your neighbors who'd threatened to call the cops after the third blowup, but sometimes things got loud. Sometimes he would get frustrated with his leg or you would have a bad day at the office where you worked as a typist, and god forbid the days these coincided.

Today was one of those days. It really only started with small things - you came home a little later, he forgot to turn off the radio, you spilled some water making dinner - and the next thing you know you're both screaming your lungs out at each other in the living room.

You can't even remember what you'd been fighting about. Probably something stupid. It always was, but you'd crossed a line this time. One you don't think you can recover from. Maybe people keep away from you because they don't want to put up with someone so fucking cynical! God, the words rattled around in your skull. How could you have said that?

You were right in his face, jamming your finger in his chest. He was practically baring his teeth as he spoke, and the words fell out of your mouth without you even thinking. "Maybe people keep away from you because they don't want to put up with someone so fucking cynical," you spat before you could stop the words. You catch yourself and look up to his face to see him frozen, looking at you with tears welling in his eyes and jaw clenched. "Is that how you feel?" Before you could even stutter out a half-assed apology, he'd spun on his heel and stormed out of the house.

That was two hours ago and you had no idea where he was. With his leg, you knew he couldn't have gone far, but you also knew that if he planned on coming back he would, and there was nothing you could do to change his stubborn mind.

Eventually, you stood up from the couch and went over to the phone. You picked it up and dialed the number by heart, and it rang twice before you heard a click and a gruff, "What?"

"I fucked up, Bill, I fucked up bad," you mumbled into the phone, thunking down into a seat at the dining table.

"Oh, you and Joe fightin' again?" he asked. He didn't even bother asking who it was, he didn't have to.

"Yeah, yeah," you said, fishing a cigarette out of your pocket. "He left a few hours ago and I don't know what I'm gonna do. I said some shit, Bill, and I don't think I can take it back this time." You took a long drag to calm down and he sighed.

"Look, it ain't like I ain't gettin' calls like this from Joe too, ya know. He'll cool off and come back, he always does," he said, but you shook your head. Then you remembered he couldn't see you.

"I ain't never called him a cynical bastard before," you pointed out and Bill swore under his breath.

"Ok, you might want to go out an find him," he said after some very colorful swearing. You sighed but agreed and hung up after promising to call him and Fran later. You pulled on your jacket before you could lose your nerve and stubbed out your cigarette, pausing just long enough to grab a jacket for Joe because you knew he hadn’t as you walked quickly out of the house.  

It was freezing out and you moved quickly. Maybe five minutes later, you burst into the local pub. It was the only place open this late and you knew Joe would be even colder than you, without his jacket. You pulled your hands out of your pockets to rub them together and try to get them warm again, looking around the room. Barely anyone was there and it took you just a few seconds to spot Joe’s familiar hunched figure at the bar. Quietly, you made your way over and sat down on the stool next to him. You didn’t say anything at first, you just fished a cigarette out of your pocket and accepted the light offered by the bartender. Joe didn’t look at you and you didn’t look at him, you both just sat quietly. He nursed his drink and you nursed you cigarette in silence. You didn’t know where to start. Whatever was running through his head was a mystery to you.

After a few minutes, you caved. 

“Sorry isn’t gonna cut it, is it.” It wasn’t a question, you knew it wouldn’t be enough. He didn’t bother to answer. Slowly, he brought his drink to his mouth and drained the last of it. “Look, I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have said that and there’s nothing I can do to take it back, but-”

“You think I don’t know I’m a cynical fuck?” His question stopped you short. You didn’t know how to respond, so you didn’t. You just waited. “You think I don’t know that I’m an asshole? That I get too angry, that I’m uneducated, that I don’t deserve the life I’ve got? That I don’t deserve you?” Oh.

“Come home, Joe. We’ll talk about it in the morning. Come on,” you tried, putting a hand on his arm, but he didn’t budge.

“I’ve just been waiting for you to get sick of it and toss me out like everybody else. Waitin’ for you to stop pitying me for my leg,” he spat and you frowned, suddenly recalling the reunion when Malarkey had pulled you aside and told you about the time he’d talked Joe down from the roof. You got up off the stool and stood right next to him, pulling on his shoulder until he swung around to face you. He was frowning deeply, but you ignored it as you swung your arms around his neck and fit in between his legs.

“I’m not gonna toss you out,” you said. He scoffed, but you shushed him and started over. “I’m not gonna toss you out. You are an asshole and you are a cynical fuck. But, you’re my cynical fuck, okay?” He frowned again at that, so you leaned forward and pressed your lips against the crease it created on his forehead. “I don’t pity you for your leg. I don’t think you’re an idiot for not going to school. And, I most definitely am not going to get sick of you.” You pressed a kiss against his face with each sentence before stopping just in front of his lips. “I love you, jackass, don’t you ever forget that. No matter how much we fight.” You punctuated your point by firmly pressing your mouth to his. For a moment he was still, but then he wrapped his arms around your waist firmly and pulled you tight, deepening the kiss.

You stayed like that until you couldn’t anymore, and when you came up for air you smiled and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Come home,” you said quietly.

“Okay,” he whispered back and you grinned against his neck. Pulling away, you presented him with the jacket you had brought for him and he finally smiled back at you. “I love you, too,” he said quietly before pulling it on and walking out with you, throwing down some cash for the bartender on your way out.

[alyseofwonderland]

PRIMES BACK AT YOU! 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23, 29, 31, 37 (you've probably already answered some, but with this many I'm sure there are a few left)

2.Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to? Coffee Shop AU and StarGate AU. I have a very deep affection for StarGate and every fandom needs more StarGate

3.Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole? answered!

5.Share one of your strengths. HUMOR! I feel like I have the best grasp on hilarious stuff and making people say dumb shit that sounds real. 

7.Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

“Suck my dick Luz.” Toye snapped back in irritation.

“Not without the proper paperwork.” Luz simpered and winked at Doc.

George Luz’s ongoing flirtation with death and Joe Toye notwithstanding it was probably a good idea to have a look at what was going on between Webster and Liebgott.

This part makes me happy in the middle of the night. I remember I wrote it and it pleases me. I don’t have access to my original works, non fan fiction at this computer (at work) so i can’t show you some of my all time favorite spooky stuff. But this is some of my funniest work. 

11.Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby? I have always wanted to write for a living. I have adjusted my goals to make it more of a past time. I do have original works I hope to complete and publish some day. 

13.What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across? WRITE NOW EDIT LATER. Stop trying to fix things as you write it. God you wont believe what that changes. Also “Take the first 5 things you want the person to say and put it into body language.”

17.Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order? OUT OF ORDER. I actually bought this writing software Scrivner because it lets you move your scenes around like they are flash cards on a table. Changed my life. Allows me to keep ideas in motion and reorganize as the mood strikes me.

19.Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse? Songs. I am so inspired by music. If a song gets me writing it can keep me writing forever. If i don’t have a song will struggle to finish a fic. 

23.If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why? answered!

29.If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose? More of my Space AU. I want to write more space nonsense! And psychics. I dont know I want to write more of everything I could write every fic in a Harry Potter length series. If the muse would let me.  

31.Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant? WHAT CANON?! *fires shotguns off my porch* WE DON’T NEED NO STINKING CANON. But also i love facts and keeping small facts in line. 

37.Talk about your current wips. YAY!

First Wip: David Webster doesn’t die on the ocean, he is transported to another universe where he is married to Joseph Liebgott and they have two daughters. It’s cute fluff for my beta as an apology for dragging her into the Band of Brother fandom and then making her join me in the pit of of despair that is rare pair Speirs/Roe. It’s so cute and i love it so much.

Second: Speirs Ex Machina. a 5+1 of the times Speirs appeared out of fucking nowhere to save the day like the plot device he is. A gift for @unaduessa I have a couple parts written. I want to have it complete before I post. 

Third: MOBSTER AND MEDIC AU. If I have to I will fill up the Speirs/Roe tag with all the Au’s they deserve myself. Ronald Speirs and most of Easy company are part of the mob in the coolest way I can make them. Eugene Roe is a tired gay doctor who does not need this in his life but also isn’t going to fight it too hard.

The playlist for this one already is so good. I am worried it will be a month before i finish it just on sheer amount of time it will take to get all my ideas on paper. 

Thanks for asking! So many to answer it took me a while!

[gendryw4ters-blog]

soft luztoye heacanons

for @aces-low, who i hope is feeling better soon<3

Comforting each other after a rough day:

joe always knows when luz isn’t feeling good because he goes quiet, which at first was a little alarming because joe hadn’t even realised luz could ever be not loud

he doesnt like to badger luz with questions because he knows that being pushed into talking can sometimes make things worse, so instead he becomes the chattier of the two for a night- talking about anything and everything to try and get his boyfriend smiling again

he’ll order them a takeout and they’ll snuggle on the couch and joe just talks and talks and george just listens, joe’s arm around his waist and his head resting on joe’s shoulder until he’s feeling better again

joe, on the other hand, couldn’t be noisier

and he’ll come home cursing and banging into things because stress makes him clumsy, which in turn only makes him more frustrated, until luz just grabs both of his shaking hands and pulls him in closely

and toye protests a little at first but luz just shakes his head and tightens his grip, humming softly and pulling joe into an impromptu kitchen slow dance

and it’s peppered with gentle little kisses and shy smiles until luz remembers he’s left food in the oven and joe just laughs and asks if he wants pizza instead

[georgeluz]

hi!!! my face tag is just "itsa me mario" (i think...???) or just "face". my myers briggs is enfp and i was born on august 25th so i'm on the cusp and my friends describe me as a virgo with leo tendencies. i consider myself a nice person, just tryna make their way in life, but my closest friends know i'm actually an Asshole. i'm pretty easy-going and i'm not shy in the least bit. i'm an aspiring photojournalist!! for the ship, you could do any HBO war but BoB is my favorite..

NO MORE PLSSS.

YOU ARE SO CUTE BTW?? Wow.

The Character I See You As: George Luz! I love this because I feel like Luz is absolutely ENFP and also probably Virgo/Leo. He’s sort of a grumpy asshole, but also a responsible mom, and also the jokester of the group. All in one. He sort of adapts to whatever situation he’s in, which I love about him, and I think he would also describe himself as a “nice person, just tryna make their way in life… but also an asshole”. But Luz, as much as he believes he’s probably an asshole (and you maybe believe that too), he (AND YOU) have wonderful redeeming qualities that NEGATES IT OKAY. You’re totally hilarious and wonderful, even if you have your impatient moments.

Your Three Best Friends: Buck Compton, Joe Toye, Frank Perconte.

The One You Don’t Get Along With: David Webster. I think this mostly has to do with the fact that Webster can be a little oblivious, naive to others, and lets his emotions take control at inappropriate times. He doesn’t pick up on things quickly sometimes, and he seems more in-tune with the big picture than with what’s happening right in front of him, which is irritating since, at least from what ENFP says, you seem quite in-tune with what is in front of you. You can read situations, and people, quickly, whereas Webster constantly needs a nudge. But that doesn’t mean you can’t necessarily get along with him, you just… happen to sigh a lot… in his presence…

Who I Ship You With: Babe Heffron! OKAY SO I HAVE DEPENDED A LOT ON ENFP/VIRGO stuff (and also I’m Leo so I understand Leo mostly), and I felt like Babe ended up being a fun match for all three. He’s spontaneous, loving, emotional but not so much so that he overwhelms or you outshines you, I mean the list just goes on. He’s sweet, funny, but responsible when he needs to be. I just. I just love Heff so much.

Wildcard: Technician 4th Grade. 3rd Platoon. Medic. Easy Company.

Lil Blurb: The war was over. The German Army surrendered. Hitler was dead. Those phrases repeatedly swam in your mind. Those statements were supposed to be reassuring, they were supposed to give you comfort on those dark, quiet nights when you laid your head against the pillow on your cot. You still closed your eyes though, and you saw the flashes of bullets leaving the muzzles of guns, mortars going off around you as replacements, friends, crawled across the ground, bloodied and beaten, begging for you or their mother, whoever would come first.

That haunted you, but no one really knew that. Austria was supposed to be good to you. You ran with the boys, participated in some sports (though it was really only to pass the time), and relished in knowing you would never have to dress another wound again for the rest of your life if that was what you chose. You could do whatever you wanted, anything, something less technical and nerve-wracking. Being a medic was one of the hardest things you’d ever done, but having Doc Roe and Ralph Spina by your side helped some.

But that night was a particularly bad nightmare. You recalled rushing to Toye and Guarnere’s side after their legs had been blown off. You could still hear Toye crying out for his helmet. But this time, when you fell asleep, they were dead and you couldn’t do anything to save them. You woke up, trembling and sweating, but not a sound had come from your mouth, no tears, nothing. You held it in until you stumbled outside, dropping to your knees in the dirt and steadying yourself with the palms of your hands.

You didn’t let yourself cry, you didn’t want to cry. You rolled over onto your back and laid your head against the grass, wiping beads of sweat from your forehead as a familiar redhead’s voice chimed from the entrance of the tent.

“Y/N? You okay?”

You didn’t say anything. It was just like Heffron to come out after you like that. He must’ve known with how quickly you had flung off your blanket and rushed outside for air.

“Hey, it’s kinda chilly, you know,” he said after a moment, disappearing back inside and reappearing a few seconds later with your blanket. You sat up and rubbed your forehead with your hands. Part of you wanted him to go away, but part of you desperately wanted him to sit beside you. You felt like you needed someone to ground you after that nightmare. You, Bill, and Joe had been incredibly close. You three had taken Babe under your wing when he had come in as a replacement. Now you had felt responsible for him.

“There we go,” he hummed, laying the blanket over your shoulders and arms, making sure it covered you.

“Thanks,” you huff after a moment, resting your chin on your knees.

“Yeah, no problem. Wanna talk about it?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t know where to begin. I- I can’t. Not right now,” you reply, staring off into the horizon, not wanting to look him in the eyes.

“Want me to go away?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Another moment passed. You felt guilty–you were never like this in front of him. You took care of him and he took care of you. In fact, at times, you doted on him. You didn’t know why you did, maybe it was because you knew Bill would have wanted that, but it didn’t matter. Bill wasn’t there anymore. 

“I prefer sleeping outside anyway, Y/N,” Babe chuckled after realizing you weren’t going to say anything. He scooted in closer and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. You weren’t used to the close contact, but you weren’t in the mood to push him away. In fact, you appreciated it, as foreign as it was after the war tore you up like it did. 

“Thanks.” You finally mustered up the courage to say that, the smell of his shirt overwhelming your senses. 

“Yeah, you know, we gotta stick together.”

“Yeah, right. Right.”

[gendryw4ters-blog]

I'm gonna need to scream at you about Fisherman!Toye now (this is going to be a rant/stream of consciousness so...i'll apologize up front). Because can you imagine? With the beanies and the big wool coat. And working hard all day, mostly by himself. And then going home to his small cottage by the sea, and wearing one of those Aran sweaters and chopping wood for his fireplace and waking up before the sun and arguing with vendors and going back out on the water and the word count is running out

omg sorry this is so late!! i only just saw it this morning!!but YES i am here for this.

like?? His family would sometimes write to him like “aren’t you lonely out there?” and he has to admit that sometimes on very cold and stormy nights that it would be nice to have someone around to cuddle but for the most part no, he’s actually really content in his own little world by the sea (and besides, he gets to chat to other locals at the markets on sunday). he might even have a dog, a big old collie called Ted who follows him around everywhere, even onto the boat (and it’s him who first notices something strange in the water and his barking is what alerts joe), and he comes to the markets, and joe likes that because even though he doesn’t mind chatting having Ted around kind of distracts people away from him and his leg (which he injured pretty badly in an accident a few years ago). and his cottage would be small but not claustrophobic; it’d be comfortable and warm and there’d be thick wool blankets and rugs everywhere, and he’d have a small outhouse where he’d smoke his fish (and so there’d always be this lingering smell of woodsmoke on his clothes and in his hair but not in an overpowering way; in that soft warm subtle way like your coat just after a bonfire). 

and over the winter, he’d still go out on his boat (just doubling up on his layers of knitwear), though he wouldn’t always be able to make it out to the market as often as he’d like to so his hair gets a little longer (and hes not going to cut it himself because he did that once and he was pretty sure that if Ted could laugh at him he would be), and he’d make soups with the things in his pantry and eat smoked meats and thick crusty bread that he’d baked himself (baking is not his forte or his favourite thing to do by any means but his Ma taught him this recipe that always somehow seems to work and so when he can’t get to the markets he makes that instead), and when the weather was too bad to go out to sea he’d read one of the books his sisters would send him and write to his family about how things were going or how he sometimes wondered about getting Ted a friend (his littlest sister had written him back a very excited letter at that, talking about getting his dog a wife and asking if she could have one of the puppies- and it made him smile so much that he kept it in a separate drawer to the others so he could read it on days that weren’t so good), and things would be cosy and warm and good.

and oh god i could go on about this for YEARS because i worked in a tiny fishing village cafe for a long time and it’s very romantic and very lovely and i really really really love Fisherman!Toye but im conscious that a lot of this is very not written well and rambly so sorry about that but also!!! 

I LOVE FISHERMAN!TOYE

[georgeluz]

Aight, so this is sergeantskip (but I'm in sideblog hell so like yo), for the ask game thing because it sounds like fun! My face tag is Roe's shitty face, which is on my things/nav page on sergeantskip (because goddamn I have annoying tags I'm so sorry). I'm an ISFJ and Gemini, and I'd probably say I'd prefer being shipped with a guy in BoB, even though I don't really mind all that much! :) Thank you!

AHUAWDIUWSEGYEFDAH im an isfj finally one of my kind. (i think I thought I was an infj earlier I think I said I was but I’m actually an isfj. I took the real deal exam and everything as part of a career counselling session lmfao)

The Character I See You As: Donald Malarkey! I feel like I’ve given a lot of people Malarkey but that’s ok because I love Malark more than I love MYSELF. I sincerely believe that he’s very close to what an isfj is. He gets along with everyone, but also can separate himself and seem a little lonesome and weary (probably spreads himself a little thin), but never complains or snips at anyone. Malarkey has the patience of a saint with other people (except people who he’s really close to that he can get away with getting mad at), a natural leader because he’s well-liked and always wants what’s best, but at the same time super jovial? Half the time he’s the kid friend that needs to be LOOKED OUT FOr and then the other half of the time it’s like mom friend ready 2 go. 

Your Three Best Friends: Skip Muck, Carwood Lipton, Joe Liebgott

The One You Don’t Get Along With: Is there?? First of all I can’t think of anyone that Malarkey didn’t get along with unless it was completely justified (Sobel, Dike, etc). So maybe no one? Maybe you’re just that wonderfully adaptable and social, ay? When I look at the bob boys anyway, I don’t see any one person that you wouldn’t get along with (and I can relate, I think us isfj’s are remarkably socially adaptable) unless it was really justified tho.

Who I Ship You With: Bill Guarnere. Someone who you can joke around with, someone who will totally not be afraid to stand up for you (and stand up for a million other things and you’ll probably need to tell him to “SIT DOWN” every once in awhile, after all you have to mom someone when it’s necessary), and someone who can also look after you, because Bill is a total dad ok. Listen. Have you seen replacements? The way he was talking to them? He loves the kiddos ok. He’s a total softie, don’t let anyone tell you different. He talks a lot of smack but he’s a TOTAL SOFTIE.

Wildcard: Sergeant. Mortarman. 2nd Platoon. Easy Company.

LIL BLURB…. THING: 

Well. There was a reason you didn’t drink a lot back home.

Your head felt heavy, like a string with a five pound weight attached to it was hanging off of the back of your neck. The beer you gripped in your hand was only there after you had had two glasses of wine, a few shots of whiskey (which burned like hell), and whatever else you could find. Or, in other words, you’d already had enough alcohol to convince you that having a few more beers wouldn’t kill you. Besides, drinking made you appear to fit in a little more in front of the guys, all of whom were just a little suspicious of your presence. You had, though, managed to keep up in most of the Toccoa training. 

You laughed. You joked. You, Skip, Malarkey, and Tab had had a drinking contest. Of course you failed miserably and somehow Skip pulled out all the stops, but it didn’t matter. You were drunk and finally having “fun”, free from your anxieties and free from Sobel’s watchful eye. It didn’t cross your mind that there would ever be having too much until your stomach started churning and you thought you might throw up. That was on hour three.

“H-hold on guys. I gotta-” You burp.

“Jesus, don’t throw up! Not on me!” Malarkey swats you away with his hand and sends you sputtering outside, where you put your hand on the side of the building to steady yourself. Somewhere inside, George Luz is singing in Sobel’s voice. There’s riotous laughter. You groan and look up toward the hills. It looks like it’s out of a Van Gogh painting–swimming and moving and sickening you more. Your whole shoulder is up against the wall now and you swear you’re going to throw up. ‘Oh god, this is why I don’t drink so much so fast. Stupid.’

“Well, Christ, Y/N, you look like hell,” Guarnere says after appearing in the doorway, a satisfied smile played across his lips. He’s one of the boys that you can’t tell whether he likes you or not. Sure he jokes with you, but sure he also gives you hell for your controversy. “I shouldn’ta let those guys give you more drinks. I knew you’s was out after those shots you took,” Bill finally says after you don’t reply, his voice softening a little. 

“Hey, now,” you grumble, promising yourself that you will go ahead and die if you vomit in front of Bill Guarnere. “I can make my own decisions.”

“I ain’t sayin’ that because you’re a woman, for god’s sake,” he exclaims, laughter bubbling deep from within his chest. “George Luz can’t handle it either. Neither can Joe Toye, but he’ll promise he can. All’s I’m sayin is I’m just tryna look out for ya, okay?” He steps closer, putting a firm hand on your shoulder. You place your forehead against the wall of the bar, steady yourself, and then stand up straight after a moment. You had to steel yourself, give yourself a little pep talk, but you managed to keep the drinks down for the moment.

“How about I get you some water?” He gives your shoulder a little rub and you chuckle. You hadn’t really noticed it before, but he was completely sober. It made you wonder why–you would have thought he was a drinking man. 

“Yes please, god, and maybe something to eat.” Granted, you aren’t sure you could keep either of that down. But you do know that you’re thankful as hell for Bill Guarnere.