#joseph d liebgott

[bloodstainedsaint]

the sniper (joseph liebgott x sniper! reader)

summary: when you transferred from dog company to easy company following the battle of bloody gulch, you thought you knew what to expect of men in the military— though you really wanted joe liebgott to prove you wrong

word count: just over 3500

warnings: period-typical sexism & misogyny (big part of the story), very minor violence, denying feelings, mutual pining, reader lowkey has trust issues, full of other characters but hopefully no one's ooc?? also this fic is kinda messy 😭

notes: happy thanksgiving! enjoy this fic for the holidays 💞 also your favs AREN'T sexist, just confused

Gossip, you realized, was an easy way to kill time for the men of the military, especially with the recent news that there would be a transfer to Easy Company— the transfer being you, of course. You had no idea you were such a hot topic until you walked down a street of Aldbourne in search of the man currently in charge of your new company, Lieutenant Winters, and overheard a trio of soldiers discussing rumors as they sat around awaiting orders.

“Hey, have you heard that there’s a transfer coming from D-Company?” one said, lighting a cigarette.

“Whew, he must’ve not taken any smokes from Lieutenant Sparky, huh, Don?” another chuckled, stealing the cigarette out of who you guessed was Don’s fingers and puffing for emphasis, much to Don’s displeasure.

Huffing, Don continued, “He’s a sniper, apparently! Better than Shifty!”

“Nah, no one’s better than Shifty,” the third butted in. “Shifty can shoot you right between the eyes blindfolded.”

“Shifty would deny that ‘til he died, Penk,” said the second with a smile.

“It’s true, Skip! Apparently he tracked a target from 1,000 yards away and still got him in the head! Bang! Just like that,” Don said while he mimicked holding a rifle and firing.

“Psh, our boy Shifty could do that, or better: 2,000 yards, right?” Skip nudged Penk with his shoulder.

Penk shrugged. “Length don’t matter, anyway. It’s what you do with the gun, not how far it shoots.”

Skip and Don shared a look and grinned, the latter joking, “Don’t you mean distance, Alex? What, you insecure about something?”

The trio devolved into laughter and banter, but was suddenly quieted as Don patted the others and pointed at you approaching. Several other men standing nearby swiveled their heads to watch as well.

A woman dressed in fatigues, the shoulder of her uniform emblazoned with the Screaming Eagles patch, a M1 Garand slung around her back— they couldn't seem to get their mind around it. Disregarding their curious stares (you’d gotten a lot of them for the past two years or so that you've been enlisted), you walked past the group of spectators.

A couple of men whistled lowly, and a murmur spread through the small crowd. You stopped in your tracks for a moment, eyes downward in thought. Surely one of these men knows where Lieutenant Winters is. You turned on your heel toward the group.

“Afternoon,” you addressed the onlookers, who were now either standing up or gathering around in interest. Your eyes went from man to man, meeting inquisitive and suspicious stares alike, unfazed. “Anyone know where I can find Lieutenant Winters?”

“You, uh, you lost?” a diminutive man — Perconte, his name tag read — asked.

One with a strict face and a glower already etched into it — Martin — stepped into the scattered group. “Who’s asking?”

“Private (Y/N), sir,” you said with a quick salute that was returned. “I’m transferring from Dog Company to Easy Company. I was told to look for a Lieutenant Winters.”

The men exchanged a look amongst each other.

The man from earlier, Don, spoke up with awe apparent in his voice. “You’re a sniper?”

You turned to him with a curt nod. “Yes, I’m a sharpshooter.”

Then a lanky, scrappy-looking guy, Liebgott, entered with a smirk tugging upon his lips. Just by looking at his crooked smile and raised eyebrows, you knew he was going to cause you trouble. Just another man ogling at you like you're nothing but a pretty face. What else is new? “You need help getting around base?”

“No thank you, that won’t be necessary,” you swiftly rebuffed, turning your attention back to the rest of the men. You set them with an expectant look.

“You can find Lieutenant Winters over there at CP,” Randleman, a large red-headed man, said around a hefty cigar in his mouth, nodding his head in the tent’s direction. “If he’s not there, try the mess cabin.”

With a small smile, grateful that someone finally answered your question instead of asking more of them, you thanked him, saluted, and walked off.

As you started towards CP, you heard behind your back, “Did Roosevelt change something while we were overseas? ‘Cause I just saw a lady wearing paratrooper clothing with a rifle ‘round her back.”

“Very astute, George,” someone replied.

You could almost hear the smirk in Liebgott’s voice as he declared, “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“Yeah, come back alive,” another voice — Skip, maybe — chimed in. “Speirs might’ve rubbed off on her.”

You only had a few seconds to mentally prepare yourself before you heard footsteps catching up behind you. Liebgott was now walking side by side with you, matching your brisk pace.

“Hey, (Y/N), right?”

You took a sidelong glance at him. “That’s right.”

“Joseph D. Liebgott. Technician 5th-Grade.”

“And is there a reason why you’re following me to CP, Liebgott?”

“Thought I’d show you around base, get to know you a little.”

“And I thought I declined your assistance,” you said firmly. “I was part of Dog Company; I'm not new around here.”

“Alright, how about introducing you to Easy men when you’re finished?” He threw a smile your way. “They’re curious about you.”

You slightly grimaced at the thought of being at the center of attention for so many strangers. “I’d rather not.”

“Why? They’re great guys. I don’t know about Dog Company men and their Lieutenant Speirs, but Easy men, especially Toccoa men, are different.”

They don’t seem all that different to me. You gripped the strap of your gun a little tighter. “Once again, I’ll pass.”

He shrugged. “You’ll warm up to us.”

A tense silence ensued. You did your best to not seem bothered by it. Usually by this point people gave up and stopped talking to you entirely.

“So, uh,” he began, running his hands through his hair. Of course you weren’t getting rid of him that easily. Your intuition earlier was right. “Why’re you transferring over to Easy? No offense, but we've got a helluva marksman already.”

“I wasn’t given a reason, just an order.”

“That so? Well, maybe you’ll take his place as our resident sniper, huh?”

“Looking forward to it,” you responded drily.

He chuckled. “You’ll fit right into Easy with the rest of the snarkers. Where you from, (Y/N)?”

You eyed him cautiously. “Lansing, Michigan.”

“Get outta here, you serious? I'm from there too!” Liebgott cracked a smile and gazed at you. “Man, I might’ve seen you around and just haven’t realized it. Could've been talking to you years ago.”

You pursed your lips. “It wouldn't have helped your chances, Liebgott.”

Grinning, he said, undaunted, “What chances? We're just talking. I wanna know the lady I’ll be fighting with.”

“You just want to know if I’m single or not. That’s all,” you icily said as the two of you neared the tent.

Apparently found out, Liebgott smiled broadly and stopped a few feet from CP while you continued walking. “Well, are you?”

You turned to face him. “Yes, I’m single, and no, I’m not interested in sleeping with you.”

You couldn’t see the smile melt off his face as you entered the tent, eyes searching amongst all the men and equipment for the tall soldier you’ve seen conversing with Lieutenant Speirs before.

“Private (Y/N),” a voice called. You looked in its direction and finally found Winters.

“Lieutenant Winters.” You saluted.

“You’re the new transfer, right?” he asked, beckoning you further into the tent for some privacy. You were thankful that most of the men here were too occupied with their own duties to notice you.

You followed him to a quiet corner. “Yes, sir.”

“Met the men yet?”

“Some of them.”

“Anyone give you trouble?” he asked gently. “You can tell me.”

You paused, thinking. Nothing past some inquisitive stares and a couple of questions. “No, sir.”

Winters perceived your hesitation. “If that changes, tell me. They're good men, but they might be a bit eager to meet you.”

You nodded. Liebgott certainly was. He analyzed your face for a second before continuing, “Try to get yourself acquainted at dinner before you go into combat with them. That’ll be all, Private.”

You saluted, knowing full well that you’ll most likely try to get a seat by yourself, away from the clamor of the men.

“Thank you, sir.”

-

It turned out that no seat was good enough to escape the onslaught of questions.

You had gotten there early and took a seat at the far end of one of the tables with a book in hand and not much of an appetite. Unfortunately for you, being one of the first ones there instead of a head in a crowd of people singled you out, and eventually you were surrounded by men wanting to know more.

“Hey, this is the new replacement I’ve been hearing so much about, yeah?” Bill Guarnere, or Wild Bill, as they called him, questioned, shoving himself into one of the seats at your table.

“Transfer, Gonorrhea, not a replacement,” Liebgott said from your side. When he had entered the mess cabin, you had attempted to hide yourself with your book, but to no avail. He had beelined toward you, beaming ear to ear as he slid into the seat next to you.

“You into books?” he said, eyes going from you to the book in your hands.

You thought that he might actually surprise you.“Yeah, are you?”

He scoffed lightheartedly. “What, you kidding? I love to read!”

A ghost of a smile graced your face. “What kind?”

“Oh, you know, Dick Tracy, Flash Gordon, mostly!” he said, seemingly proud of himself, and your smile disappeared.

Soon after that, people swarmed your table. If you were being fair, though, Liebgott had spoken for you for most of the night, making sure you could read in relative peace. If you didn't know any better, you’d say that he was just enjoying you being by his side, but you were still wary of any underlying intentions (let’s say, getting into your pants) he might have.

Yet, out of the corner of your eyes, you saw the way he looked at you from time to time with a small smile upturning his lips, and you wanted to believe he didn't have any.

“Transfer, replacement, whatever,” Bill brushed it off with a wave of his hand. “What I wanna know is—”

“—why she’s a girl?” Liebgott finished. “Jeez, I dunno, she’s only been asked this twelve times tonight.”

“If you’d let me finish,” Bill said with a pointed look at Liebgott as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, “I was gonna ask if she did shoot a Kraut from 1,000 yards away.”

“You’d be giving ole Shifty a real run for his money, ain't that right, Shift?” Joe — the other one, Joe Toye — said from beside Bill, reaching over to another table and shaking one of the guys there.

Shifty, you assumed, looked over and met your eyes with a kind smile. “No, no, I’m sure she's a better shot than me. Y'all give me too much credit.”

“That’s what being humble will get ya.” Bill chuckled and puffed from his cigarette. “Your spot as Easy’s best shot out from under ya.”

The table laughed, and you steeled yourself before uttering in a quiet, yet steady voice, “It was two men.”

A hush descended over the table. Liebgott turned to look at you. “What?”

“Two men. I dropped the first. The other one heard and started running. I dropped him next. Both in the head,” you relayed, without the humor of a storyteller but the gravity of a historian. You didn't know it, but you had a stony look in your eye.

Luckily, you were saved from the stunned silence by a man getting up and reciting a poem, but you could feel Liebgott’s eyes burning into you. With fear? Admiration? You weren’t sure, but you didn't dare look over.

-

Joe Liebgott was nothing if not persistent. For months now, he'd been lingering around you, flirting and striking up conversations with you. To be honest, you never outright said for him to stop (besides that one time in the very beginning when you said you weren’t interested), so you guessed he wasn't overstepping any boundaries.

Still, he seemed determined to get you into his bed.

“C’mon, I think we’d look cute together!”

“That’s what you think, Joe,” George said, squatting next to his friend, “Giving her heart eyes and all. Meanwhile, she looks at you like you're her next target.”

Brushing his teeth, Frank followed the other two’s gaze across the road, where you were happily talking with Bull and Shifty. He spat out the toothpaste residue on the ground beside him and said, counting on his fingers, “Seems like the only people she gives the time of day to are Shifty, Bull, Doc Roe, even Webster.”

“Who, if you'll notice,” George said, gesturing with a cigarette between his fingers, “are all quiet, reserved, well-mannered people. You, on the other hand, got a loud mouth and, uh, what’s it called, Frank?”

“A short fuse,” Frank supplied.

“Yeah, a short fuse. She probably thinks you’re trying to get into bed with her, in which case, you're shit outta luck.”

Frank said, shaking his head, “Scary, that girl. With her rifle and that look in her eyes.”

Liebgott exhaled. “But I’m not tryna just sleep with her! I even gave her some of my favorite comics ‘cause I knew she likes to read.”

“Yeah, real books, Joe— that's why she gets along with Webster!” Frank exclaimed. “You sure you didn't give her the pornos?”

George laughed. “That'd give her the wrong impression.”

Liebgott narrowed his eyes as you giggled at something Shifty said. “You’re right, maybe she doesn't like me.”

Standing up, George sighed and snuffed out his cigarette. “That’s not the point, Joe. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

“Yeah, like I’m her next target? You told me already.”

“No,” George said with an exaggerated eye roll, “like she wants more outta you. ‘Cause all she's getting is the impression that you wanna fuck her.”

Liebgott stood up as well, still watching as you laughed with Bull and Shifty. George and Frank patted him on the back.

“She’s all yours, buddy,” Frank assured with a sympathetic smile. “She makes heart eyes at you too.”

-

There were only a handful of women selected to serve outside of something like a nurse’s position; you just so happened to be one of them, most likely because of your experience with a rifle. So, you’d gotten used to the lustful ways some men would watch you, or the demeaning ways they would taunt you. You guessed almost all of them had never seen a woman with a combat position in the military before (or by the way some of them acted, ever spoken to a woman at all).

But such men only assumed that you had earned your jump wings by sleeping around with officers. They assumed that they should be able to get in on it too, or that they should condemn you for something you didn't even do, for being unworthy and unskilled all because you were a woman.

It had always been a difficult pill to swallow: your military career would be littered with scathing remarks and crude comments, and you’d have to be strictly professional or closed-off with most men lest you’d be seen as a whore rather than just “scary”. But the hardest fact to accept was the fact that Liebgott, for all the kindness he had shown you, all the times he talked to you like you were a human being— that he most likely had the same intentions as everyone else.

As much as you relished his company, his crooked smile, his jokes, his lingering touches (and as much as you had to pretend you didn't), you had to accept his end goal was for you to warm his bed. And sure, maybe he was more dogged with his efforts than other men were, and maybe your friends in the company had told you that he was a genuine guy, but you just couldn't believe that he had anything else in mind when it came to you.

Maybe all the criticisms thrown your way had affected you more than you thought.

With the success of Operation Pegasus, Bull had dragged you (not literally, though you’re sure he could've) into a pub in the Netherlands for some celebratory drinking.

You didn't drink, and you disliked pubs; the smell of booze and drunken people was often overpowering, but at least you found quiet company with Bull. Across the room from your table, you saw Liebgott staring at you with a smile and a drink in his hand. It seemed as though he had noticed you the second you entered.

“It’s alright if I leave you alone for a second, little lady?” Bull said, chewing on a cigar like usual. “You'll be fine?”

“Sure, Bull. Go enjoy yourself.”

The large man smiled and patted you on the back before leaving to talk to some of the other men in the company.

Not one to mingle, you were only a few pages into your book when you caught the attention of an intoxicated soldier.

“Look who it is,” Cobb said to himself, hardly standing upright. You recognized his voice, seeing as this wasn’t the first time he’s derided you. “Ms. 1,000 Yards, huh. Bet the officers over at Dog Company only made up that story so it looks like you had some use.”

You ground your teeth. Typically, if you didn't give someone like him the satisfaction of an answer, they’d leave you alone. Why defend yourself and give people another word to call you: bitchy?

“What's a woman got to do in the military anyway?” Bottle in hand, he shambled towards you. “Besides suck the dicks of the men who are actually fighting.”

Steadying your uneven breath, you tried to look behind him to find Liebgott, but his body blocked your view.

Taking another swig, he spat, “That why they transferred you over from Dog Company? Those boys got their fill of you and passed you onto us, huh? Fuckin’ good for nothing slut.”

“What the fuck did you just say to her?” You heard Liebgott’s voice and felt relief wash over you.

Cobb turned around, and you caught a glimpse of an incensed Liebgott, a fierce glint to his eyes.

“Tell me what you just said to her.”

“Oh, please, Joe, you trying to get her to suck your cock faster—”

He was interrupted by a fist flying his way, toppling the inebriated man. Liebgott got on top of him and began trading punches before the surrounding men, drawn by the commotion, tried to pull him off of Cobb.

Your eyes were blown wide as you stood there, speechless. Bull found you and pulled you by the arm out of the pub.

“But what about Liebgott?” you said, peering behind you.

Bull shrugged and did the same. “Seems like he was winning anyway.”

That night in your billet, all you could think about was the fury that twisted Liebgott’s face into one you only saw on the battlefield.

And it was all for you.

-

The next day, you searched for Liebgott at breakfast, the table feeling a bit more empty without him taking up his normal spot beside you, but he had found you first, as he usually did.

“Hey, (Y/N), can I talk to you for a sec?” he said, his hand on your shoulder. You turned around in your seat and were met with a slightly bruised Liebgott, a small cut across his nose. Concern filling your chest, you nodded, and his hand held your wrist as he led you out of the mess hall.

“So, uh, about last night,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes searched yours for how you felt about him bringing it up, but he found no hints in your unreadable expression. “I’m sorry for fighting Cobb for you. You're a strong woman, you could handle him yourself—”

Smiling at his uncharacteristic hesitance, you cut his apology short with a peck on the cheek. You pulled away and saw his temporary surprise.

“Thank you, Joe. I appreciated you standing up for me. It means a lot.”

His face broke into the widest beam you've ever seen.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked eagerly, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could even process what they were. “Shit, sorry, that was too soon—”

You answered his question by tenderly holding his bruised face with your hands and bringing his lips to yours. You could feel him grin into the kiss as he pulled you closer, and your heart just about melted.

Maybe you had gotten Joe Liebgott all wrong from the start.

“Great, he’s never gonna wash that cheek again!”

-

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop

[she-wolf09231982]

You guys… 🤣

had to do it

[rockpaperscissuhs]

Band of Brothers Birthdays

January

1 John S. Zielinski Jr. (b. 1925)

21 Richard D. “Dick” Winters (b. 1918)

26 Herbert M. Sobel (b. 1912)

30 Clifford Carwood "Lip" Lipton (b. 1920)

31 Warren H. “Skip” Muck (b. 1922) & Robert B. Brewer (b. 1924)

February

8 Clarence R. Hester (b. 1916)

18 Thomas A. Peacock (b. 1920)

23 Lester A. “Les” Hashey (b. 1925)

March

1 Charles E. “Chuck” Grant (b. 1922)

2 Colonel Robert L. “Bob” Strayer (b. 1910)

4 Wayne “Skinny” Sisk (b. 1922)

10 Frank J. Perconte (b. 1917)

13 Darrell C. “Shifty” Powers (b. 1923)

14 Joseph J. “Joe” Toye (b. 1919)

24 John D. “Cowboy” Halls (b. 1922)

26 George Lavenson (b. 1917) & George H. Smith Jr. (1922)

27 Gerald J. Loraine (b. 1913)

April

3 Colonel Robert F. “Bob” Sink (b. 1905) & Patrick S. “Patty” O’Keefe (b. 1926)

5 John T. “Johnny” Julian (b. 1924)

10 Renée B. E. Lemaire (b. 1914)

11 James W. Miller (b. 1924)

15 Walter S. “Smokey” Gordon Jr. (b. 1920)

20 Ronald C. “Sparky” Speirs (b. 1920)

23 Alton M. More (b. 1920)

27 Earl E. “One Lung” McClung (b. 1923) & Henry S. “Hank” Jones Jr. (b. 1924)

28 William J. “Wild Bill” Guarnere (b. 1923)

May

12 John W. “Johnny” Martin (b. 1922)

16 Edward J. “Babe” Heffron (b. 1923)

17 Joseph D. “Joe” Liebgott (b. 1915)

19 Norman S. Dike Jr. (b. 1918) & Cleveland O. Petty (b. 1924)

25 Albert L. "Al" Mampre (b. 1922)

June

2 David K. "Web" Webster (b. 1922)

6 Augusta M. Chiwy ("Anna") (b. 1921)

13 Edward D. Shames (b. 1922)

17 George Luz (b. 1921)

18 Roy W. Cobb (b. 1914)

23 Frederick T. “Moose” Heyliger (b. 1916)

25 Albert Blithe (b. 1923)

28 Donald B. "Hoob" Hoobler (b. 1922)

July

2 Gen. Anthony C. "Nuts" McAuliffe (b. 1898)

7 Francis J. “Frank” Mellet (b. 1920)

8 Thomas Meehan III (b. 1921)

9 John A. Janovec (b. 1925)

10 Robert E. “Popeye” Wynn (b. 1921)

16 William S. Evans (b. 1910)

20 James H. “Moe” Alley Jr. (b. 1922)

23 Burton P. “Pat” Christenson (b. 1922)

29 Eugene E. Jackson (b. 1922)

31 Donald G. "Don" Malarkey (b. 1921)

August

3 Edward J. “Ed” Tipper (b. 1921)

10 Allen E. Vest (b. 1924)

15 Kenneth J. Webb (b. 1920)

18 Jack E. Foley (b. 1922)

26 Floyd M. “Tab” Talbert (b. 1923) & General Maxwell D. Taylor (b. 1901)

29 Joseph A. Lesniewski (b. 1920)

31 Alex M. Penkala Jr. (b. 1924)

September

3 William H. Dukeman Jr. (b. 1921)

11 Harold D. Webb (b. 1925)

12 Major Oliver M. Horton (b. 1912)

27 Harry F. Welsh (b. 1918)

30 Lewis “Nix” Nixon III (b. 1918)

October

5 Joseph “Joe” Ramirez (b. 1921) & Ralph F. “Doc” Spina (b. 1919) & Terrence C. "Salty" Harris (b. 1920)

6 Leo D. Boyle (b. 1913)

10 William F. “Bill” Kiehn (b. 1921)

15 Antonio C. “Tony” Garcia (b. 1924)

17 Eugene G. "Doc" Roe (b. 1922)

21 Lt. Cl. David T. Dobie (b. 1912)

28 Herbert J. Suerth Jr. (b. 1924)

31 Robert "Bob" van Klinken (b. 1919)

November

11 Myron N. “Mike” Ranney (b. 1922)

20 Denver “Bull” Randleman (b. 1920)

December

12 John “Jack” McGrath (b. 1919)

31 Lynn D. “Buck” Compton (b. 1921)

Unknown Date

Joseph P. Domingus

Richard J. Hughes (b. 1925)

Maj. Louis Kent

Father John Mahoney

George C. Rice

SOURCES

Military History Fandom Wiki

Band of Brothers Fandom Wiki

Traces of War

Find a Grave

[pookielious]

—T/5 Joseph D. Liebgott was a case in point. Liebgott was a very good combat soldier who had proven himself in Normandy and Holland. At Bastogne, the stress began to catch up to "The Barber," so I brought him back to my command post to be my runner for a few days, to let him rest up, to get away from the tension of being on the front. After a few days, he wanted to return to the line and join his buddies. Apparently he needed communication with his comrades more than he needed my company. The tension was still too much for him, so we sent him to division headquarters where he was assigned to the S-2 (intelligence) section to make use of his ability to speak German.

[pastlivesandpurplepuppets]

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 the 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.” One of the German prisoners, an officer, evidently understood this exchange. After the officer comprehended my orders, he relaxed and sat down. Liebgott returned seven prisoners to battalion headquarters that day—I personally checked with Nixon.

~ Dick Winters

[hbowarismydopamine]

ATTENTION ALL BAND OF BROTHERS FANS!

Finally after almost THREE YEARS I have finally written the Fan Fic.

NGL, I lost interest in writing it as I was so busy with Uni.

I sincerely apologize for gaslighting you 😭.

______________________________________________________________

It is called:

"VALKYRIE (Book #1 of the Death Serpent Series)"

It will be part of two part series called 'Death Serpent'.

Book 1: VALKYRIE (Book #1 of the Death Serpent Series) - In Progress. (Ongoing - not completed yet)

Book 2: HELGANDR (Book #2 of the Death Serpent Series) - Not Started Yet.

It is on Wattpad, my profile name is @hireathwisteria.

NOTE: It does not have a good picture cover. I generated one on Chat GPT. I would really appreciate it if one of you helped to create a cover picture for me, I will 100% mention you!

______________________________________________________________

WARNING NOTE:

This series follows the Band of Brothers plotline. However it is heavily focused on the OC and her story. The second book will mention parts of Band of Brothers, but will have nothing to do with the characters as such.

The love interest in this is also an OC - so please keep this in mind when reading it. It follows historical and non-historical plotlines, that have been altered for the purpose of this fan fiction. It will be focusing on political movements throughout the mid 1990s.

OTHER WARNINGS:

This is a very intense fan-fiction. It deals with sensitive content, that may not be suitable for some readers.

It has themes of sexual themes, rape, gore, brutal violence, suicide, miscarriage, torture, drug addiction, alcohol and nicotine abuse.

Please do not read this if you are not comfortable with these themes. It will be rated 18+.

______________________________________________________________

FINAL NOTE:

The first book is near completion, but parts of it are published. Please be aware that it has not been edited, and there are some mistakes.

Please give provide your comments and thoughts, and how I could possibly make changes to make the story better. I would really appreciate some feedback!

THE LINK WILL BE PROVIDED IN ANOTHER POST!

Thank you guys, love you all. I hope you enjoy this story.

@hbowarismydopamine

Hi everyone,

I’m writing a fan fiction about Band Of Brothers and I’m almost done. It’s on Wattpad at the moment, but I was wondering what other platforms I should upload it to.

Any suggestions?

[she-wolf09231982]

Joseph Liebgott

~~~~~~~

J. Liebgott and Female Combat Medic

[serendipitysae]

Querencia ( Joseph D. Liebgott x Reader )

querencia/ kɛˈrɛnθɪə,Spanish keˈrenθja,keˈrensja/

noun ; querencia; plural noun: querencias

Sanctuary.

( POST WAR !!! fluff and maybe a smidge of angst ?)

01.00 AM. 

19th July, 1946, Yuma, California. 

1 cup of self raising flour, 1 cup of granulated sugar, equal parts. Wisk together in a bowl, before adding 1 large egg. 

Feel free to stir together using your hands. 

In a pan, arrange the canned-peach slices, before half of the reserved peach juice on top. After this, apply the doe on top of the peaches. Then drizzle a ½ cup of melted butter. 

Bake in a preheated oven for forty five minutes until golden brown, serve with cold ice cream and rest of the peach juice. Easy peasy ! 

. 

Yeah right. 

You sighed irritatedly, eyebrows knit together as you crouched before the oven, one hand on the oven latch, the other holding an oven mitten. You had been sitting there for at least an hour and a half. 

You were wearing one of Joe’s shirts, over your nightgown. You pursed your lips together, scowling at the peach cobbler in the oven, which wasn’t even browning. “Come on..” You murmured quietly. You were so caught up in the baking that you hadn’t noticed the door unlocking. 

That was until you heard the soft clang of Joe’s cab car keys being thrown onto the table. “Shit-!” 

You looked over, confused as you looked up to Joseph Liebgott, your boyfriend. He stared down at you, his surprise slowly morphing into a small smile. “Wasn’t expecting you to be awake, Doll.” 

You giggled at that, an excited smile gracing your features as you stood up and jogged to him. A warmth spread through your body as you held him close, pulling him down to litter his face with kisses. “Lots of customers ?” You asked, between kisses. His lopsided grin surfaced, chuckling as he leaned into the kiss. “ Mhm, drove ‘round half the fuckin’ city swear to god.” 

“The real question is,” He began, hand trailing down to the curve of your waist. “ What are you doing up ?” He jokingly poked at your side, earning a small sigh and downwards turn at your lips. “I wanted to try the recipe for Peach Cobbler.. kind of a lost cause though.” 

A hoarse, tired chuckle left his lips, shaking his head as he pressed a kiss to your head. “What’s the occasion ?” 

You tensed up a little, clearing your throat as you looked to the oven. Your lips parted, taking a soft inhale before speaking. “ Next saturday, you know .. that reunion in indianapolis ?” 

Joe didn’t look at you, his lips pressing into a thin line as he looked to the wall. You softly moved your hand up to his cheek, gently rubbing it with the pad of your thumb. “ It’s been a year since we last saw them .. and I know Webster came to visit us last february but you know that doesn’t count.” 

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring it up after his long shift, but he asked, and you had no intention of hiding things from him. 

You caught on on how his jaw clenched, eyes trained on the tiles of the kitchen wall. You would have preferred screeching of fingernails on chalk than the deafening silence. After several moments of this, he licked his lips, voice quiet. 

“I just..” 

You looked up to him. 

“I just can’t do it, Doll..” 

You felt your heart clench. He didn’t sound hurt, he didn’t sound mad or anything. He just sounded so discouraged. The way his words died on his tongue, how he couldn’t meet your eyes. 

“Oh Joe..”

You cooed, your hand moving up to his hair as you tugged him into a warm embrace. It didn’t take long for him to melt into your glow. His arms sneaked around your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He didn’t cry, Liebgott rarely cried. He just savored the moment. The smell of your hair, as well as the light scent of artificial peach and flour. One hand moved to cradle your head, as his eyes closed. The gentle tugging at the roots of his hair, the soft tracings you drew on his back, it was his sanctuary. 

“My darling, we don’t have to do anything. We don’t, we can just rest.” You’d say, your voice muffled by the material of his shirt. He didn’t really respond, just a quiet hum resonating through his body. 

The two of you stood there for several minutes, until you reluctantly pulled away. You looked up at him, the soft smile on your lips never faltering as you intertwined your hands. “ Let’s get you some sleep, hm ?” 

He nodded. 

“The rocket’s empty- I’ll try the atom load of this ray gun.” You read, your voice saccharine and honey like as you read of the comic book strip. Both of your backs were pressed against the wall, Joseph’s arm around your shoulders as you read to him. His head was resting on yours, half-lidded eyes following the comic drawings as you read. 

It only took fifteen minutes before the book was tucked away in a drawer, the lights off and blanket pulled over you two. Joe lay behind you, his body pressed up to yours with his arms holding you around the torso. 

“Y/N ?” He interrupted the silence, and you hummed quietly, eyes still closed. 

“ I just .. well..” 

You shifted slightly, turning to face him. One hand moved to rest on his cheekbone, eyes opening slightly. 

“If you want to go to the reunion, you should.” Your eyebrows knit together, slowly adjusting to the light as you spotted his warm eyes. 

“What ?” 

He nodded, shuffling closer to you. “I don’t know if I’m ready to see any of those bucks again.. But, they were your team too.” You looked at him with a small, small smile as you nodded. “But- Joe, you know you don’t have to-” 

“I know.” 

You shut up, thumb tracing patterns against his jaw. He continued speaking. 

“But.. Well, if you need a ride to Indianapolis, I’ll be there. ” 

Your lip curled up into a teasing smile. “You’re saying I'll get a free cab ride ?”

“Hey, I ain’t saying anything about it being free, I just said if you need a ride.” He countered, gently squeezing your side with a chuckle. Your laughter is harmonious to him, as he closes his eyes and smiles. 

Your laughter died down, your chest fluttering. “Hey..” You’d say, quietly. You moved closer, pressing a warm kiss to his lips. Sure, Joe was tired, but he kissed you back, with as much love and eagerness as he always did. You mumbled a soft “thank you.” to his lips. 

He just shook his head, and tugged you closer to him, the sound of traffic rumbling from the balcony of your apartment.

( THIS ISN'T PROOF READ SO PLAY NICE !!! I love domestic joe : ( he's my baby boy. It's post-war, if it wasn't clear enough- uh yeah hope you guys enjoy xoxo !!!!!!)

[rpfofficial]

joseph d. liebgott wins white boy of the month

[danopdf]

The Cutting Edge [Joe Liebgott/David Webster] - chapter 2

chapter 2 - toe-pick

pairing: joseph liebgott x david webster, [hockey player x figure skater au]

The Cutting Edge (1992 film) Rewrite

word count: 3574

summary: David's coaches introduce him to his new partner, turns out, they have their work cut out for them.

warnings: swearing, mild injury nothing graphic at all, some angst

-----------

a/n: chapter 2 is here! I have been working on this and a BoB x MotA crossover so hopefully that should be out soon! I hope the tag list works and please lmk if it doesn't, or if you'd like to be tagged! <3

Enjoy!! :D

-----------

Phillidealpha - 1991

“Alright, I’ll see you guys on Monday.” Joe waved, making his way towards the awaiting beat-up pickup truck. A chorus of “Bye Joe”’s and “See ya man.”’s following behind him.

Joe tossed his raggedy hockey back into the back bed of the truck and hopped in the passenger side, placing his cooler lunch box at his feet, and his hard hat on his lap.

“So, how was school today?” George asked. Joe didn’t have to look over to see the shit-eating grin on the dirty-blond face.

“It was fine mom, can you just drive, there’s a game across town tonight I gotta get ready for,” Joe said impatiently. George threw the truck into drive and began to pull out of the steelworks parking lot.

It was silent on the drive back to the bar George and his partner Joe Toye owned together just the sound of the radio playing some new rock hit softly in the background, as the truck pulled into the parking lot of ‘Easy Company’ the fair sized bar, sitting just off a popular backroad near the city was frequented mostly by the nearby factory workers, and people who come to watch the hockey games on Friday and Saturday nights. The bar itself was in a mild state of disrepair but well-loved by both the locals and the bar workers alike, it may have been slightly run-down but for Toye and George it was a labour of love, practically their second child after that old dog they had adopted together.

Joe hopped out of the truck the second it had stopped, rushing around to the backbed to grab his bag, hauling it over his shoulder. Practically running into the bar, not bothering to hold the door for George, who nearly got clipped by it.

 “Joe hey, listen, Gene called in. He got a shift at the hospital so we need you to cover tonight.” Toye greeted from behind the counter, hauling the glass rack full of beer mugs up onto the freshly washed counter.

“Can’t. Got a game tonight- Hey Muck, make me a sandwich! Any mail for me?” Joe yelled into the kitchen.

“Joe, it’s a Friday night, we need you here, and Muck! Don’t make him that sandwich he’s not going anywhere, he can make it himself!” Toye hollered through the small window separating the bar from the kitchen in the back. Skip hadn’t moved from his place on the counter too enthralled with whatever book he was reading, just sticking his thumb in the air to acknowledge the command Toye gave him.

“I can’t Toye, the guys need me out there.”

“And we need you here! Babe’s still coming in, and Donny said he could come in from 9 ‘till close, but we need someone to do the in-between.” Toye slammed the mug he was holding down onto the counter, pointing at Joe, clean bar towel in hand, “Joe, when you moved here 2 years ago we said that as long as you helped us when we needed, we would shuttle your ass to any hockey game you wanted. Now is the time for you to nut up and help us.”

Joe scoffed, pulling his hand back from the back door he was about to walk through.

“Why can’t you call Bill, see if he’ll pick it up? He’s usually hanging around here with you guys anyways, might as well put him to work.” He sneered, pushing his way through the back door, to the staff entrance, his bettered hockey sticks leaning against the wall next to the array of lockers, each with a staff member's name on it, some with stickers adorning the outside (like his own, covered in hockey team logos), or photos of family and friends (like Babe’ was, covered in photos of him and Gene).

“Joe,” George pushed through the door, hot on his heels, “Come on we never ask you to come in on Fridays unless we need you. And we need you tonight, this place is gonna be packed-”

“I can’t George you know I can’t. We’re playing our rivals tonight and I can’t leave the boys hanging-”

“So you’re gonna leave us hanging?” George pointed him with a glare.

Joe sighed, leaning his head against the cool metal of his locker.

“George. I heard from one of the guys that there may be a scout coming to the game tonight. They’re down a few bench-men on the US team for the next winter games, and they wanna see if I still have it.”

“Did they say that?”

Joe turned his head to face George, “Did they say what?”

“Did they say that they were coming to look at you?”

He closed his eyes, “No. They’re coming to look at the new kid that’s been playing with us-”

“Shit Joe I’m sor-”

Joe shot up straight, “But George, if I can just show them how far I’ve come,”

“Joe don’t-”

“Then maybe they’ll let me even just be a benchwarmer for practice, which is the first step to getting back on a team. A proper team.”

“Joe! You got a letter from the Flyers,” Joe’s eyes lit up with hope, his heart began beating,

Oh my god, they saw it. They’re gonna put me on the team! This is the start of a new career, a brand new start for Joe Lieb-

 “They saw your tape and they don’t think you’re ready yet.” George ripped the bandaid off in one fell swoop, his head turned downwards to avoid the sagging gaze of Joe.

He froze at the news, brain trying to process his future once again falling through his fingers like sand. Joe sagged, fingers going numb, his sticks slipping through his grasp.

“Oh.” 

George dragged Joe into a hug, squeezing him tightly. His fingers gripping Joe’s jacket when he didn’t hug him back, he just stood there looking dead over George’s shoulder, “Well…there goes that I guess.” He whispered to himself.

George pulled back from Joe, a sad smile on his face, “But hey listen, on the bright side of things, a man came in today looking for you. By name.” Joe perked up at that, “Said he was looking for a man that could skate, and that there’s a paycheck involved, a pretty hefty one apparently.” Joe turned back to his locker, put his sticks back, and began to change out of his work clothes.

“That’s great George, but if it’s not hockey, I’m not interested.” He shrugged off his jacket, quickly wiping his eyes as he did so, hoping George didn’t notice.

“Joe buddy,” George leaned against the side of Joe’s locker, “we can’t make you do something you don’t wanna do. But we also can’t stand by and watch you put yourself through the wringer every time a letter comes in with your name on it, hoping that this time it’s something good.”

Joe paused halfway through slipping on his clean jacket, “If this is your way to ask me to work for you full time you know the answers gonna be no, right?” he chuckled wetly, George laughed with him.

“I know buddy. That guy was hoping that you’d go by tonight and see what he’s offering…I’m sure I can convince the owners to give you the night off for this, a real job offer.”

Joe huffed, fixed his dark hair in the mirror he had pasted to the side of his locker door, wiped his cheeks, and turned back to his friend, “Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

– – – – – – – – – – – –

David locked eyes with himself in the wall of mirrors as he skated along the edge of the rink. Watching his posture, he lifted his back leg and spread his arms out, one in front and one behind his perfectly straight torso.

David lowered his leg and went into a gentle spin, twirling thrice before coming to a stop.

“Looking good David!” The brunet coach hollered from the side of the rink. David pushed forward skating close enough to the mirrors that he could look at himself properly, he began to fix the curls of his hair and wipe at his cheeks, clearing his face of any sweat that had beaded there with the cuff of his white knitted sweater.

“-last one only lasted just over a month,” The door to the private rink swung open revealing David’s second coach. The redhead guided an unknown man through the doors and walked over to where the first was standing at the side. He pushed off his right foot and hustled his way over to the small group forming on the sideline.

“and before that it was three weeks-” David hockey stopped right in front of the new man, spraying small shards of ice onto his jeans.

“Two and a half weeks actually.” He looked the black-haired man up and down, taking in the slim figure in a worn flannel + jacket combo, jeans, and a backward cap, “He couldn’t keep up.” David sneered at the new man.

“Joe Liebgott, this is my co-coach Lewis Nixon. And this,” He gestured grandly to David, “is your skating partner David Webster.” David’s jaw dropped.

“Him?” David pointed out, “Are we picking homeless people up off the streets now for me to skate with? He looks like he’s never even seen a pair of skates before!” He complained to Winters.

“David, Joe is a hockey player, he’s got the skating prowess and physical strength that we’re looking for.” The redhead explained matter-of-factly.

“A hockey player!?” David screeched, “You’re kidding, Nix’ please tell me he’s kidding!” He turned towards his other coach, who stood from his bent-over position on the rail.

“David we know this isn’t ideal, but he’s got what we’re looking for and he’s an ex-Olympian so he knows his way around a competition. So, you can either suck it up and figure out how to work with him like an adult or you can keep skating here, alone in despair. It’s up to you David.” Nixon crossed his arms, a small smirk already on his face, knowing he had David, who let out a grumble and leaned down to tighten his pristine skates.

“Fine then,” he straightened up, flipping his curls back, “but if he can’t keep up he’s gone.” Joe chucked at that.

“Don't worry your pretty little head princess, I can keep up.” He stepped out onto the ice in his dirty sneakers, a hockey bag on his shoulder.

“David, this is Joe, Joe Liebgott, please play nice.” Winters introduced him, Joe sticking his hand out to David, who skated back slightly at the sight of his raised hand, “What, don’t want to shake my hand? They may be a little rough, but I’ve never had any complaints before.” He winked.

“Real nice. What is this, are you trying to ruin what career I have left?” David asked, offended.

“Hey, hey, hey wait a second, who's checking out who here?” Joe took his hand back, using it instead to adjust the strap on his shoulder.

“Listen, I don’t know how many slap shots you’ve taken to the brain but this is your audition and I can assure you it’s over. I’m not skating with this buffoon.” Joe looked startled at the mention of ‘slapshots to the brain’, something only Nixon had noticed

“Listen, I’m not a figure skater, I’m a hockey player, alright?” He defended.

“Then why are you here?” David skated right up in Joe’s face, staring him in the eyes,

He’s got nice eyes. Shut up, David. “Get him out of my building.” He turned towards Dick and Lewis, who were watching in both exhaustion and amusement respectively. Lewis chuckled at the duo, Dick just sighed, and Lewis reached over to pat his partner on the shoulder.

“Temperamental, they told me that’s what you were and they’re right. There’s another word for that you know!” Joe yelled.

“Who told you that?” David demanded.

“It’s no secret honey, everybody knows it!” Joe turned back to Lewis and Dick, stepping off the ice onto the rubber sideline, “Listen, sirs, I’m real’ sorry, but I wouldn’t wish this on my goddamn worst enemy alright?” Joe patted Nixon on the shoulder and began to make his way out the door he and Dick had walked through not even 10 minutes ago, David skating in the opposite direction of the door.

Dick put a hand on Joe’s shoulder, giving Lewis a look.

“Alright, both of you stop it.” Lewis hollered, the slight echo in the at-home area causing his voice to echo, “David, you’re a duo skater. Duo means two.” He held up two fingers at that, “And you haven’t been able to keep a partner for more than a month, and even then all you did is complain. You’re skating nowhere but in circles, hoping that a partner will just come along and fall into your lap, which they won’t if you keep your shitty attitude up.” David looked down, suddenly finding digging a small ditch with his toepick much more interesting than looking Lewis in the eyes. Joe snickered at the sight of David looking like a kicked puppy, “and you,” Lewis turned to Joe now, who shut up immediately at the parental tone Nixon took with him, “you’re not going anywhere alright? You’re excited every time you get on the ice at your beer league games, or get the chance to skate on the lake, and here we are giving you another chance at an Olympic medal and you're just going to walk away from it? No. You’re going to sit down and lace up because we’re the only people who are looking at you for a skating career.” Lewis finished, chest heaving and hands on his hips. Dick looked down, bringing a hand up to his face, but not in shame like Joe and David were, but to cover the silent laughter he was trying to cover up, at the sight of his partner parenting the two grown men. “So. Joe you’re going to drop your bag, put on the skates Dick gave you and you’re going to get on that ice.” Joe dropped his bag right where he stood with a huff, “And David you’re going to not be an asshole for 10 minutes and we’re going to run through the basics. Understood?” Nix’ raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“Understood.”

“Yeah sure Nix’.” Joe and David grumbled respectively. Realizing that they were both beaten and now stuck with each other.

– – – – – – – – – – – –

“Alright good, now Joe your left hand goes on his waist, and your right comes up to hold his right one outstretched. Get a little closer Joe, don’t worry David won’t bite.” Dick’s hands placed Joe’ where they needed to rest on David’s body, and gently pushed Joe closer so his chest was pressed against the left side of David's back. One of his hands coming up to hold onto his slim waist, the other sliding along David's arm to grab a hold of his hand, “Perfect Joe. Now on my count you’re going to push off your left foot, and go for a lap around the ice, sounds good?” the redhead asked.

Joe nodded his head, hair bouncing off his wrinkled forehead, brows knit in focus.

“Sounds great Winters, let’s just get this over with.” David forced out.

“Wait, wait, hold on a second.” Joe interrupted, “What is this thing on the front of my skate?” He lifted his left foot slightly, showing off the rigged point of the blade.

“That’s the toepick Joe. I wouldn’t let it get in your way.” David teased, unamused at the stupid question Joe had asked.

He leaned down close to David's ear, whispering “I don’t let anything get in my way sweetheart.” David straightened up against Joe’s chest, his neck tingling from where his breath fanned.

“Ok you two, let’s go on, 1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3-4!” On the four David and Joe pushed off their left feet in long strides, putting pressure on their left feet to make a graceful turn at the top of the ice, “Great! That looks great you two!” Dick called out from his place on the ice, Lewis in his skates on the side where he was earlier, clapping at the sight of the two skating in unison.

After the graceful turn at the top of the rink, they got to the straight away. David picked up his pace, taking quicker, shorter strides, slowly leaving Joe behind, struggling to catch up to the brunet's pace while keeping a hold of his waist and hand.

“Hey buddy, slow down man we’re supposed to be keeping pace!” Joe huffed, legs moving twice as fast to try and catch up to the brunet's quick strides.

“If you want us to keep pace then keep up!” David turned his head to Joe, taking a few more strides, and effectively leaving Joe behind enough that his grip on David’s waist and hand had him stretching forwards, fingertips barely hanging on, he began to stumble forwards, toepicks catching on the ice ahead of him, causing Joe to go tumbling forwards and crashing onto the ice with a loud SMACK!

“Jesus Christ David! Could you try not to kill the guy on his first day!” Lewis cried out. Dick rushed over to help Joe back on his feet, asking if he’s okay, as Joe brushed bits of ice off his shirt.

“I’m alright, I’m alright. He hits softer than my younger sister, and a tumble on the ice ain’t nothin’ new to me.” Joe turned to David, who was glaring at him from his place at Lewis’ side where he was getting berated by the black-haired man, giving David a smile at the sight of his misfortune.

Dick gave Joe one more once over, “David get over here!” He hollered. David skated over, using the toepick at the top of his skate to stop himself once he got close enough, “David apologize to Joe.”

“What!”

“Huh?”

Dick looked at David expectantly, hands on the hips of his slim black skate pants, “You heard me, apologise to Joe.” David looked at him appalled, whilst Joe had a shit-eating grin on his face at him getting chastised by the ginger.

“Joe,” David gritted out, “I’m sorry that you couldn’t keep up with m- OW!” Winters slapped David's arm giving him a glare, “Joe, I’m sorry, that I on purpose and with malicious intent went faster than I knew you could keep up with so that you would fall.” He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, avoiding Joe's smug face.

“Good, thank you, David. Let’s head back to one and go again.”

– – – – – – – – – – – –

Joe picked his head up at the sound of the beat-up old truck pulling up into the gated driveway of the mansion.

“Going my way?” George peaked his head out the passenger's window.

“If you’re heading to your mom's house then yeah.” Joe joked, standing from his place on the front steps of the large house, he jogged up to the passenger's side, tossing his hockey bag in the backseat and slamming the door.

“Shut up Joe, you look like you’re waiting for your divorced dad to pick you up.” Joe barked out a laugh as he slid on his seatbelt. George shifted out of park and booted out of the fancy driveway.

“So, how was it? You found a new calling in the world of figure skating?” George joked. Joe looked out the window, watching the trees and occasional lit-up mansion pass by his window.

“Yeah, I think so…”

“You don’t sound so sure of that, what’s up?” Joe sighed, running a hand through his wavy hair.

“He’s an asshole, is the issue. Never had to work a day in his life, has been living off of daddy’s money- did you know the rink is attached to the house? It’s not even in the backyard, it's in its own wing of the house!” Joe had started waving his arms around the cabin of the truck at this point, George trying his best to avoid getting smacked by the flailing limbs whilst trying to drive, “and he spent the whole time trying to get rid of me!” Joe took a heaving breath, sitting back properly in his seat, “but I mean other than that, yeah it was great. Dad’s a bit of a wack-a-doodle but he’s the one paying me, so him I can deal with.”

George looked over at him before quickly turning his eyes back to the road, “Well that’s not so bad I suppose. What about the coaches? Are they as big of assholes as your new partner is?” Joe placed his feet up on the dash, which George immediately batted off, “Get your feet off the dash you fucking hooligan.”

Joe crossed his legs at the ankles instead, “Yeah they’re alright, they’re some ex-figure skaters that are married on the side or something, I don’t know man. Talented though that’s for sure, they would demonstrate some of the moves they wanted us to do and it was impressive. I like ‘em.” Joe smiled to himself, finding picking the dirt from under his nails more interesting than looking at the smile George was giving him.

“So same bad time, same bad channel tomorrow then?”

“Yup, tomorrow and, if the paychecks hopefully keep rolling in the way they are now, every day after that.”

– – – – – – – – – – – –

taglist: @hanniewinnix @ewipandora@grumpy-liebgott

[marycorleone]

The Girl Paratrooper - Joe Liebgott X F!OC

Prompt: Mary and Lieb met while training at Camp Toccoa. Both were paratroopers of Easy Company. But the rules were clear: Dating or romantic involvement was prohibited. This made Lieb and Mary date in secret, 'til the girl found out that he had cheated on her.

After breaking up with Joe, Mary grows closer to Bill Guarnere, and what was meant to be just a friendship becomes a marriage. But Bill and Mary don't love each other, and Liebgott is sorry. What will happen?

Warning ⚠️: the character 'Leigh Spencer' was created by @msmercury84 . I asked for use the character in my fic and she allowed. Thanks, Leigh! ❤️

Chapter One

Mary was walking along the road and doing her patrol, when Joe Liebgott showed up. The girl smiled from her boy, who came to her and kissed her.

'Stop, Lieb! Winters can see us!'

'Winters know all about us. Everyone else know all about of us. We just haven't assumed our relationship yet cause of the formalities of the war, but as soon as this is all over, I'm going to hug and kiss you without major problems.'

Joe hugged Mary, lifting her off the ground. 'And I love you so much and I want to marry you, Mary Corleone. You know that. Don't you?'

'Oh!' She screamed in fright, kicking her feet in the air. 'Joseph D. Liebgott, put me down now!'

'Don't scream! It will draw everyone's attention here!' He warned with a smile. Then Joe announced that he had an appointment and took his leave, leavin' Mary to complete her patrol.

A few hours later, when already was the morning, Mary was sleeping when she heard Pat Christenson's voice. He arrived fumbling, knocking a coffee pot off the table, startling Bull, Guarnere and Babe, who were sitting in the room next to where Mary was sleeping.

'What happened, Pat? It looks like you saw a ghost!'

'It's Liebgott!' Christenson was scared and stuttering.

Mary jumped on the bed, but didn't make a sound. She wanted to hear when Pat was going to say. In the next room, Bill asked.

'Let's go, Pat! What happened with Liebgott?'

'A girl. He was in his dormitory with a girl!'

Everyone was silent and after a few seconds, Bull affirmed.

'Mary is sleeping in the next room. She just got back from patrol. Liebgott is a piece of shit.

'I went in there to get an outfit I had forgotten, and when I got there, I saw the naked girl on top of him. He would spank her ass and say he never had such a nice girl in his life.'

'Damn! Mary will be devastated!' Bill cursed and rubbed his face.

'Shall we tell her?' Babe finally spoke.

'No. We shouldn't.' Bull asked.

Guarno was about to say what she needed to know when Mary appeared in the doorway.

'I heard everything I had to hear. It's unfortunate that you wanted Lieb to keep fooling me, Bull. You shouldn't have even thought about it. It was your duty, my friends, to tell me. Liebgott asked me to marry him, and you know it. I was going to let that son of a bitch put a ring on my finger, and you were wondering if you were going to let him keep fooling me!'

'Mary, I...'

'All right, Pat. I already heard what I needed. Where are they?'

'In Lieb's dormitory. Mary, wait! If you make a scene, you can be expelled from the paratroopers. The rules are clear: Dating is prohibited!' Babe tried to stop his friend, but she just walked away.

'Can't we date? But is okay fuck local girls? I'm tired of hanging my head. I've been doing this since Toccoa.'

Furious, Mary went towards where her fiancé was. They boys wanted to go after her, but Bill told the to wait there, and that only he would go. And so, Wild Bill followed Mary.

Next chapter coming soon. And currahee!

[bloodstainedsaint]

Hey, I'm not sure if you take requests, but if you do, I have an idea:) Could you write something about a young woman who was in the Air Force disguised as a man and her plane was hit by the Germans while under attack, forcing her to jump out, leaving her stranded with her plane down and easy company witnessed the whole thing and tries to look for the pilot?

maybe with some romance or whatever with my mans lieb or doc roe if that’s possible hihi

when worlds collide (joseph liebgott x air force! reader)

word count: 1000+

warnings: blood & injury, but nothing really graphic

notes: sorry for the wait on this one 😭 i've been busy BUT i promise to be posting more during my break

You didn't remember much after your plane was hit by German flak while passing over some Dutch forest you couldn't recall the name of. What you could remember was everything rapidly blinking and on fire around you, dials going this way and that, your hands flying around the control board and trying desperately to pull up with the yoke as you cursed violently beneath your breath.

Following your fruitless struggle against gravity, you remembered preparing to parachute out of your plane and into the woods beneath you.

You were pretty sure you blacked out for a while after that.

-

The sight of a fighter plane nosediving into the ground and its booming resulting crash interrupted an otherwise uneventful five-man patrol through the woods.

“Jesus Christ! Did you see that?” Babe exclaimed, gawking up at where the plane had been in the sky mere seconds ago.

“Looks like it landed near us,” Pat observed.

Don looked wide-eyed. “It was one of ours. The pilot might need our help if he ejected in time!”

Lip shushed them. “There's AA guns nearby. Someone ought to go back and tell Battalion they’re positioned somewhere to our left near that dike we passed. Christenson, you go.”

As Pat nodded and left the way they came, Lip said, “We can't take too long looking for a pilot we don't know is alive or not." He checked his watch and sighed. "Alright, meet back here at 1700. Stay alert. Don't go too far on your own.”

The squad spread out in search of the hopefully-alive pilot. Joe walked with his rifle at the ready for about 20 minutes before stumbling upon large chunks of debris from the plane. Not far from that was a severed parachute, and then a blood trail.

He followed it until he noticed a pilot sitting on the ground next to some brush with his back turned to him, his clothes torn up enough to where large parts of skin littered with cuts were visible. Joe slowly approached, mindful not to scare him and wind up with a bullet in his head.

“Hey,” he called out. “Hey, buddy.”

The pilot turned around, and Joe noticed that “he” was not a he at all.

Your hand shot to the pistol on your belt, leveling it at him while vainly covering up your top half. You’d been trying to treat your wounds with the first-aid kit strapped to your waist; you'd gotten several steadily bleeding scratches from falling through trees and one or two broken ribs from your hasty landing. You ended up taking off your corset to relieve pressure on your ribcage, leaving you with your ripped up uniform and coveralls.

Regardless of your relief that an American soldier had found you rather than a German one, you kept your hand fixed on your sidearm.

“Woah, lady, put down the gun. I'm not a Kraut.” Lowering his own gun, his narrowed eyes flashed to your chest and widened at the sight of the reddish purple bruises that blemished it. "Goddamn..."

“It’s not what it looks like,” you managed out, though talking (or breathing, for that matter) was difficult.

“I don’t care what it looks like,” he said, the edge to his tone softening as he carefully walked toward you. “You need help.”

You painfully exhaled and set the gun down next to you. You turned around again to focus on treating your injuries, wincing with the movement. “I'm fine.”

“You don't look it.” He crouched down next to you. You flinched away slightly — you'd been disguised as a man for a while now, and this was the first time anyone was seeing you so vulnerable since your enlistment — before letting him inspect your wounds, albeit with you concealing your chest with your arms and what remained of your jacket.

“What’s your name?” he asked, gingerly applying sulfa powder to the gashes on your body.

You slightly hissed at the stinging sensation. “(Y/N), Senior Airman, 4th Fighter Group.”

“Joseph D. Liebgott, Technician 5th Grade, 101st Airborne.”

There was a temporary silence, punctuated only by you sucking in air through your teeth. As he bandaged one of the cuts, he said, “We need to get you some help. I was out here on patrol with my squad; we have a medic back at—”

“What?” You looked at him with a bewildered expression. “No, I don't need any medic. I just need help informing my superiors I got lost going through dense fog and got shot down here.”

“Why not? ‘Cause he'll see you're a girl?”

You gave him a pointed look. “Why else? If you haven't noticed, there aren't very many women serving on the front lines.” You paused and took a deep breath in through your nose. “If you bring your squad over here, someone's gonna report me and get me kicked out of the Air Force…Hell, I don't even know if I trust you to not report me. I just met you, for Chrissakes.”

In truth, you didn’t even know why you were letting him tend to you anyways — you were capable of doing it yourself, your biggest secret was currently exposed, and he was a stranger. But there was something about his change in demeanor and a sudden tenderness in his voice once he saw your injuries that made you want to trust him.

“Your secret’s safe, (Y/N),” he said firmly, a set expression on his face. “I got no reason to rat you out; I just met you too.”

You scanned his face for any signs of deceit, sighed when you found none, and nodded. “I’m still not letting your medic take a look at me.”

“Fine, but that’s not gonna stop me from helping you. I’ll be quick; the guys are gonna be expecting me back soon. We’ll go talk to them together.”

He resumed his aid, and after a few minutes, you could tell that he had started getting curious; he didn't seem like a man who knew how to shut up.

“How’d you disguise yourself as a man this long?”

With a shaky inhale, you closed your eyes as his hands brushed over your rib cage. Involuntarily, a small smile made its way onto your face as the countless predicaments you’d found yourself in flooded your memory. “It’s a long story.”

Liebgott cracked a crooked smile. “I can make some time.”

Laughing despite the pain that flared in your rib cage from the action, you couldn't help but feel that this chanced occasion wouldn't be the last time you would speak to Liebgott. And for some reason foreign to you at that moment, you hoped that your intuition was correct.

-

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop, @joetoyesbrassknuckles101

[blood-mocha-latte]

#20, #21 & #22 ☺️

For BOB ask game

xoxo @paintedgray / @sharkboyandlavalieb

band of brothers asks!

20 - which storyline do you like the most?

joseph d liebgott you should have had your own pov episode and it is the greatest crime they took that away from you

21 - who was your favorite side character?

perconte my bestie perconte. place of honor for a fellow italian

22 - what is your favorite quote from the show?

and with this i point to joe toye spitting straight bars, a lovely gift from @ronald-speirs / @dawsley <3

[buthappysoverrated]

everytime I remember how good liebgott, joseph D. is at manipulating people I'm just. Dying to fuck that man

[marycorleone]

Liebgott, Joseph D, sir.

Joe Toye

George Luz

Frank Perconte

Dick Winters

Ron Speirs

↖ is in love with a fictional character

[pastlivesandpurplepuppets]

Sometimes a day or two, or just a few hours, off the line helped. Other times it didn’t. Winters considered T/5 Joseph D. Liebgott an excellent combat soldier, who had proven his worth in Holland. But in the woods outside Bastogne, Winters saw a change in the man; a serious moroseness brought on by unrelenting stress. Kneeling by Liebgott’s foxhole, Winters said, “Joe. I need a runner for a few days. I’d like you to take the job.”

Liebgott looked up at his captain, then nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

After a few days, Liebgott requested permission to return to Easy. It was granted, but once back on the line his problems returned. Strayer intervened and temporarily reassigned Liebgott to division G2 intelligence, where his ability to speak German could be used to interrogate prisoners. Winters opposed this transfer. Liebgott was Jewish and had an undisguised hatred for the Germans. But the transfer went through.

~ Larry Alexander