#joseph toye x reader

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

Oh, this got me squealin'.

Cute as all shit.

Very soft, very fluffy.

Kudos to you.

You Can Just Stay (Under This Weight)

Joe Toye x Reader One Shot

Requested?: lol nah fam. I’m just a sucker for soft intimacy in the middle of violent conflicts

Warnings: potty words, a messy attempt at describing hair brushing, a most likely shoddily written Joe Toye, like a skosh of angst, 90% just wish fulfillment and fluff (sorry) 

Ya girl listened to Lullaby by Mary Glenn while writing this nonsense, a perfect song to sway to alone in the dark (but like in a dreamy/fun way?)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

With a final grunt of frustration, you threw the paddle of your broken hairbrush across the room, causing Perconte, Bill, Luz, and Joe Toye to startle as it clacked loudly to the ground.

 “Gees, Y/N,” Bill snapped, hand on his chest as if he could manually slow down his racing heart. “Don’t do that shit- fucking thought we were under attack—”

You didn’t bother to listen to the complaining sounds of upset coming from the men sitting to your left, snatching up your gun and bag before storming out of the room and heading towards the bedroom you and Joe had been assigned to for the night.

Part of you felt bad for scaring your friends by your childish outburst. The logical part of you knew that throwing your broken hairbrush had been unnecessary and needlessly disruptive and loud.

But the other part of you- the part that was sick of feeling like a goddamned invalid since you’d been shot in the hand?

Well, that part of you wanted to cause much more destruction than that.

Keep reading

[narwal-ed-in]

ARMY GLITTERATI - (Band of Brothers x Bimbo!Reader)

✨glitterati✨- /ˌɡlɪt̬.əˈrɑː.t̬i/ - 1940's slang for famous people, glamorous people, in the spotlight.

Summary: “You want to become a combat medic for the 101st?” “What, like it's hard?”

Warning: Period typical sexism, Fem reader, she/her pronouns, slight body shaming (not directed at reader). NO BETA READ. I WROTE THIS JUST NOW SO PLEASE DON'T EXPECT MUCH.

No disrespect to the real veterans of WW2, all my BoB fanfics are based on depictions by actors in the miniseries.

Borders by @plutism

BEFORE TACCOA

The war is raging and everyone is doing their part to help the men on the front.

For you, that mostly meant trying to look your best at all times, no matter how inconvenient the situation.

"Looking good is a ginormous part of the war effort, it's good for boosting troop morale. I saw it on a poster at the teaching hospital" You reasoned with your father after he complained about you buying another pair of shoes and some expensive vanishing creams.

"Darling, I think they meant that we should all keep our appearances up, not buy out our local department stores"

"Oh my god daddy, you're suffocating me! I'm just doing my part by looking nice..." you glare at your father in his work clothes and eye him with a grimace "...and clearly you're not"

When you get a telegram informing you that you've been selected to participate in a program that aims to send female medics into combat you jump on it.

This is going to be so much fun.

"I'm going to be the talk of the town when everyone finds out. Not even Reverend Smiths boring old story about dying for ten minutes in a car crash and seeing Jesus will be able to outdo this!"

Your supervisors at the hospital are shocked that you've been chosen, seeing as you're not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

You had once walked out of an operation because it was bloody and you were wearing white (all the nurse uniforms are white).

You hoped you wouldn't be assigned to the army or the airforce.

The army is too basic, and if you were stuck on an airbase somewhere then nobody would be able to see how fab you always were.

The navy was your goal, their uniforms were sooo cute, you were just dreaming of all the ways you could style it.

It's just your luck when you get assigned to airborne.

"THIS BLOWS! I'm in the two most unglamorous branches at the same time"

After your initial breakdown you realized it wasn't that bad. If you were jumping out of planes it just meant that your hotness would have a bigger audience since it would literally be raining down from the sky.

"When the Germans see all this falling from the sky, they're going to flip their friggin wigs! AHHHH"

CONNECTING WITH EASY

You're assigned to Easy company and meet the men a few months into their training at Camp Toccoa.

You show up randomly in the middle of the day.

Although the men had been told a woman would be joining them and they had been expecting you, they hadn't been expecting YOU.

You were a ditzy thing and looked like you’d jumped out of one of their pin up postcards. The brass surely couldn't expect them to put their lives in your hands.

"I'm sooo happy to meet everyone. You know, the other girls in the program are such massive liars, they said airborne was where all the uggos went, but that's so not true. After all, I'm here"

You always woke up an hour earlier than the rest of Easy so you would have time to put your face on.

It was one of your tenets to never be seen by anyone outside of family without makeup on, or with your curlers in.

Malarkey, Skip, Penkala, Shifty, Bull, Christenson, Lip and Winters had all been kind to you from the beginning, expecting nothing in return.

But some of the guys had other ideas.

George was one of the men that befriended you initially. And although he did have the ulterior motive of getting it on with you, he eventually stuck around because he actually liked you.

You guys have great play-flirting banter and you're both very entertaining people to be around, especially when you're drunk.

On the rare nights anyone gets passes they want to be around you and George because they know that's where the funs at.

You get sloppy drunk with George, flirt with men from Easy and other companies all night, then end up with your shoes off at 3am, sitting on the curb and crying about one of your ex boyfriends.

Perconte was one of your original detractors but when you found yourselves making the same brain dead comments about obvious things, you both decided to put your two half braincells together to form the singular braincell you share between yourselves.

Talbert was trying to get into your pants instantly. Nobody was surprised.

But just like George he grew to be genuinely fond of you.

What was surprising was Joe Toye taking you under his wing.

Toye could see that you were absolutely clueless and the worst part was, you had no idea.

Toye couldn't bear the agony of watching you skip around camp with your happy-go-lucky attitude, harping on about celebrity gossip nobody cared about.

"Y/N!" Toye yelled as you all got dressed to run Currahee "Why the hell is your PT shirt pink?!"

"Isn't it just the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen, Joe? I put a red handkerchief in with my laundry. Cosmo said carnation pink is the color of the summer"

Huffing and puffing, Toye took out one of his spare shirts and forced you to wear it.

"And when you give it back, it better not be fucking 'flamingo pink'" Toye said.

"Oh honey, this isn't 1939, flamingo pink is so over. I wouldn't be caught dead in that. You know, Joe, sometimes I feel like you don't care about fashion at all" You scoff at his cluelessness as you walk out.

Joe Toye is secretly your best friend in the company.

Toye taking you in meant Gaurnere and Johnny Martin had to be around you, much to their chagrin.

They didn't want some girl hanging off of them.

You win Gaurnere's respect when you coach him on what to write to his girlfriend back home to assure her that he's serious about their relationship when she began doubting his intentions.

And you win Johnny's respect when you help him find the most romantic gift for his wife for valentines day.

"Y'know, back home they call me the love doctor...Well, they used to, before I told Betsy Kline that Rob Jones was her soulmate but then he left her at the altar to elope with his housekeeper"

Sobel despised you from the moment he laid eyes on you.

Not wearing your red lipstick everyday was torture, but you had to stick to natural colours so Sobel wouldn't be able to tell what you had on.

He tried with everything in his power to get you kicked out, but much to everyones surprise, you kept up extrordinarily well with the men when it came to physical training.

"I do a lot of Pilates. It's really good for flexibility and helps you keep a positive outlook so you're not be such a 'negative nancy' all the time. Some of you could really use it. Some more than others..." you said as you side-eyed Skinny who just looked around incredulously

Eventually most of the men come to consider you a friend and a confidante since you give remarkably sound relationship advice.

"It's like sooo hard being the smartest person and the hottest catch in this camp at the same time"

The hardest nuts to crack in your immediate friend group end up being Leibgott, Cobb and Doc Roe, all for different reasons of course.

Leib was snide and arrogant and spoke to you like you were a silly little girl.

He didn't shy away from telling you how dumb he thought you were to your face.

Your relationship eventually becomes friendly but he will still be mean occasionally.

He always ends up apologising though and feels really bad when he makes you cry (the other guys nearly bite his head off whenever this happens).

"Jesus Christ, Y/N, stop being a baby already. I said I was sorry" Lieb said to you as you cried into your pillow.

"You can say sorry to me, Joey, but how are you going to tell Rita Hayworth you're sorry for saying nobody cares about her nighttime face washing routine?" You spoke inbetween sobs.

"I ain't saying sorry to Rita because I ain't sorry I said it. I stand by what I said. Nobody cares how some broad washes up at night"

"You take that back! That routine saved my life" You jumped up, pointing an accusing finger at the man.

"How the fu-"

"You're a horrible, horrible man Joseph Leibgott"

"Oh put a sock in it" Leib rolled his eyes, making you cry even harder.

Toye, ever protective of you, had enough "I swear to god Leibgott, leave that girl alone!"

Cobb was just straight up cruel to you and made sure you always knew "your place".

Roe didn't seem particularly close to anyone.

But as you all of you went into the more specialised aspects of your training and you and Roe spent more time together, he found himself looking out for you.

You were sitting alone on the grass after everyone had groaned and walked off the moment you started talking about an article you read in a magazine.

You sigh sadly, pulling at the grass when a shadow falls over you.

Bringing up a hand to block the sun you finally recognize who it is. It's Eugene Roe.

"I, uh, I was wondering if I could sit with you?" he asked.

You nodded excitedly and he took a seat beside you in the grass.

"What was it you were telling the others?"

You gasped "You really want to know?"

"I guess…"

Doc had seen everyone walk away, and although he didn't care much for mindless conversation, he knew talking to people meant a lot to you and had come over to cheer you up.

Without missing a beat you began one of your famous tirades.

By the end of your first year in Toccoa you end up finding your place.

Thanks for reading! Please like, comment and reblog if you want❤️

[luminouslywriting]

Angsty stressful BOB headcanon - you accidentally get pregnant during the war and try to hide it but they catch on that’s something wrong w you

Sweetheart, I LIVE for and LOVE angsty requests, so I’m here for this! For the sake of historical accuracy and simplicity, reader is a medic/nurse that travels with Easy Company! More below the cut, cut for length, angst mentioned, pregnancy things and miscarriages mentioned:

Dick Winters:

-The thought that you might be pregnant is NOT one that crosses his mind initially. You’re distancing yourself and he doesn’t understand why. -He does his best to try and reach out and try to show you that he’s still committed—he’s honestly wondering what he did wrong. -The minute he sees the small little baby bump though?? He knows and he feels IMMENSE guilt over the entire thing. He should’ve been more careful and you definitely deserve better than being an unwed pregnant woman. -He’s now double stressed about the war and how he’s going to fix things with you and reconcile the problem. So his solution is to have a quiet elopement with you. -At least now you have some money to be taken care of. And he begs you to go and stay with his family back in the states so that you have someone taking care of you since he can’t be there. -He’s happy to have you and to be a father but it’s a very angsty and emotional time that won’t be reconciled until the war is over.

Lewis Nixon:

-Well this is a messy situation….if only because he’s well aware he’s getting a divorce but he was also having an affair with you and now you’re pregnant. -Panicked stressed upset—all of the emotions and goes through the five stages of grief tbh…and drinks to cope. -He’s got a lot of mixed emotions about the complexity of the situation. This is a second chance for happiness and also the nail in the coffin to his previous family. He also feels the weight of responsibility pretty heavily. -Also wants to marry you ASAP and cleans up his act so that he can have a chance with you and the kid. -Views it as a messy second chance so he’s very grateful despite the poor timing of everything. Dick helps him see the good in the situation. -He plans on making a very happy life with you as soon as he can.

Ronald Speirs:

-Clocks onto you being more sick than normal and more often….and just puts two and two together. He’s not an idiot, he knows he should’ve been more careful, and he feels bad. -This is a war and it’s not exactly great timing. He doesn’t want to make you commit to anything if you’re not absolutely certain of being with him. -Conversations are had about whether or not you’ll keep the kid and what you’ll do if you decide to keep it. Co-parenting seems to be the safest bet for now. -Don’t get me wrong, he wants a life with you. He just doesn’t want you to feel like he’s trapped you in said life with him. -He’s probably the most logical about things in the sense that he’s making sure you get a transfer back to London and away from the front lines for safety and health purposes. -Also dutifully writes you until the war is over and he can meet the kid and marry you.

Buck Compton:

-Despite the seriousness of the situation, it just depends on if it was before or after Bastogne. Either way, I think he’s a very big nervous wreck about things. -He wants to be a dad, wants to be a husband and have a life with you….but not like this. -Whatever his plan is that he’s figuring out, it gets thrown off by Bastogne and everything that happens there. -I truthfully think that the best thing might be for you to follow him home since you’re pregnant and try to help in his recovery. You can be a big help emotionally to him. -Buck feels a lot of guilt for feeling broken and not able to support or help you as a parent or lover, but the minute that kid is born, he’s getting everything back on track. -After a while, he’ll ask you to marry him and share a life with him.

Carwood Lipton:

-This responsible mother hen?? Feels like the W O R S T person ever. Not his intention to put you in this situation and wants to send you home with a ring on your finger post-haste. -So that’s exactly what he does, he finds the nearest chaplain and gets hitched and then writes his mother

-He has so much guilt over not being there for the birth of the baby and not being there for you

-But it’s the hope of seeing you and the baby that keeps him going and keeps him hopeful, even during times like Bastogne. -Probably quietly talks about the situation with a few pals of his, including Speirs. And he definitely misses you a lot. -And consistently apologizes the rest of your marriage over the entire thing.

Joseph Liebgott:

-Doesn’t know whether or not to hope for the best or the worst because the timing of it all is just super poor and inconvenient?? -Feels guilty over that and while he’s happy that this means he gets to have you in his life, he’s also acutely aware of how complicated he’s made things for you. -It’s an anchor point for him to remember what he’s fighting for and that humanity is a thing though, so there’s that sobering point he gets to. -Probably wants to get married but there’s not a chaplain around so his next bet is to go to Winters and try to get you transferred somewhere else. -Promises he’s going to make it back to you and get married after the war. He thinks of little else during Bastogne and the hard times. -When he goes to Austria, you show up with the baby and he finally gets to meet baby Liebgott and get hitched haha.

Donald Malarkey:

-Excited and sad at the same time?? Doesn’t really know how to feel and is now worried about leaving you on your own with a baby. -Is also really worried he’ll never get to meet the baby and so he tries to make the most of the short times that you do have together. -Insists on getting married so that if he dies, you have some fallback money and something that will take care of you and the baby. -Probably cries about it when he’s alone because it was NOT the plan and he doesn’t think that you should have to put up with any of this stuff anyway. -Tries to find baby stuff in different towns that he can give to you when he gets back to you. -Wrote home to his mother immediately that she was going to be a grandmother lol.

Eugene Roe: (Big sad, I’m sorry):

-Was not intending on getting you pregnant but now that you are, he’s super excited and happy about it….and also terrified because pregnancy has so many complications anyway. -Prays avidly for your safety and for the baby’s safety as you two are figuring things out. Truth be told, it’s probably right around Bastogne that you both figure out that you ARE pregnant. -The guilt is real and he’s coming into the city as much as possible to try and see you and check on you. It’s cold, rations are low, and you’re working a lot anyway. -Now here’s where you’re all going to demand I pay for therapy (get in line kids). You survive the church collapsing but you lose the baby a few weeks later after some severe cramping and being sick. -And the thing is?? He’s horribly awfully and guiltily relieved because it’s probably safer for you this way and there was no way that either of you could have been parents right now. -But he does promise to marry you and that you’ll have more children one day.

Bill Guarnere:

-Finds out about it by accident when you’re telling another nurse and freaking out bc you don’t know what to do. And this man?? Baffled and shocked and trying to figure out what to say. -So he comes to you and quietly lets you know that he knows and is willing to do whatever you need/want for things. -You two get married right before D-Day and then he ships out. You two write letters back and forth faithfully for months. -Everyone knows you’re having a baby and that is the baby of Easy Company lol. -His accident in Bastogne happens and he gets shipped back to London and then back to the states and you go with him. -He’s in recovery when the baby is born and he’s happy about it because it’s really a new life for everyone tbh.

Joe Toye:

-You try to break up with him and the argument gets pretty nasty bc there’s no real reason for the breakup until you drop the bomb that you’re pregnant and he just??? Short circuits?? -He gets really soft and sweet about the entire thing and promises that he’s going to stay by your side through it. -So he writes his family ASAP and marries you in a church in his uniform. Then you’re getting sent back to your family and his and it’s a bit messy. -But he’s writing you and really excited to meet the kid….who is faithfully and dutifully born a few weeks before his accident in Bastogne. -He doesn’t even know the kid had been born until he gets back and there’s a lot of guilt and grief and feelings of inadequacy about the situation. -But he’s a great dad and a great husband so it all works out.

George Luz:

-is honestly trying to come up with every possibly outcome and solution so that he’s prepared for whatever decision you make. -You told him about it shortly after they returned from D-Day and he’s a little shocked (more than a little) and having a hard time keeping a lid on things. -He wanted a whole wedding that everyone could celebrate and be happy with, but going down to a courthouse with you and a few of the guys will do. -Gives the men of Easy Company updates on the pregnancy via letters from you all of the time. And you get the weirdest most random questions from them, I’m sure. -Narrowly survived Bastogne and was really struggling until your letters started coming through again. -Is really excited to meet the baby and see you again once things are over with the war.

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 8- Adapt and Overcome

Summary: After the German bomb run on Bastogne, the locals and American soldiers there that were left, helped piece back together what they could of the town. Medical personnel that had survived still tended to the wounded however they could with whatever supplies they had left. Easy Company remains in the Ardennes Forest preparing for an inevitable assault on German forces in the town of Foy. However, morale is low due to cold weather, constant shelling, zero relief, and numerous casualties to include a few of your closest friends as Easy pushes forward into Haguenau.

A/N: Mature audience, Joe LiebgottxFem!Medic, post D-Day, She/Her Pronouns, Y/F/N, Y/L/N, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Mentions of death, Confrontation, Military Terminology, Medical Terminology, 1940’s slang, Inappropriate Nicknames, Band of Brothers References, Mentions of Weaponry, Yiddish/German/Italian to English Translation, Descriptive Wounds/Injuries, Blood/Gore, PTSD, Smoking, Banter, Pining, Consensual Physical Contact/PDA, FOREVER FLUFF

German is identified with (g)

Yiddish is identified with (y)

Italian is identified with (i)

Made the best discovery writing this piece: "Liebling" means "darling" in German!! That absolutely made my day and now is my new favorite pet name/term of endearment from Liebgott.

Beginning 1x7 The Breaking Point then transitions into 1x8 The Last Patrol

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~

January 5th, 1945

German artillery fired onto Easy Company from the town as Easy soldiers scattered to the nearest foxholes to take cover.

“INCOMING! TAKE COVER!” Lipton shouts to the men as he runs to the nearest foxhole.

Blasts coming from all directions causing trees to fall and dirt to fly made it difficult for the men to navigate safe passages to their holes. You had been separated from Joe before the attack started. You lay flat behind a pile of fallen trees for cover while you shield your face from the debris. You were too afraid to move, fearing you’d just get hit.

After what seemed like hours, the ambush came to a halt, and you suddenly heard a familiar call from the distance.

“MEDIC!”

You sprang from the ground and started running towards the cry for help then you ran into LT Buck Compton.

“Buck! Are you ok!?” you ask as you look him over frantically.

He had a distant look in his eyes.

“Sir? SIR??” you take him by the shoulders and shake him.

Buck finally looked at you, “...yeah.” he whispered.

“Did you see anyone else that was hurt? I heard someone call for a medic.”

His eyes began to gloss over. You tilted your head while you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Buck? Who needs help? Please, tell me!” you urge him.

He pointed to a path through the trees and uttered names that almost had you fainting at his feet.

“Bill...and Joe.” 

You wasted no time dashing through the tree line where he had pointed to. The path lined by the woods seemed never ending. All you heard was the drumming of your heartbeat in your ears while your feet became heavier and heavier impeding your ability to get to Joe as fast as possible. Images of his lifeless body flashed before your eyes, causing tears to stream down, stinging your cheeks from the cold air.

You finally reach the clearing, stopping to assess the carnage of blood in front of you. You see Doc Roe already kneeling over a soldier lying on his back whose face you couldn’t see from where you had been standing. To the left you see Guarnere leaning against a pine, his right leg hanging on only by tendons and ligaments.

Two men rushed in with a litter. 

“Bill, you go first.” 

“Whatever you say, Doc.” Bill replied. 

“Over here. Take this man.” Gene ordered pointing at Guarnere.

Guarnere was hoisted onto the stretcher, and carried off, not before a snappy exit comment,

“Hey, Joe, I told ya I'd beat ya back to the States.”

Tunnel vision sets in as the world starts to cave in on you. You fall to your knees as you attempt to pace your breathing so you won’t pass out.

Malarkey appeared from the path behind you.

“Y/F/N! Hey, you ok??” he asked concerned as he hooked you under the arm to help you up.

His voice was distant and muffled.

“I-I-” you stuttered, but words completely fail you when you see the right leg of the soldier that Doc was helping...more so the right leg that was completely missing. You gasp slapping your hand over your mouth in a desperate attempt to stop the scream of terror from escaping. You look at Malarkey with dread painted all over your face.

“It’s...Joe!?” you managed to say between panting as you start to hyperventilate.

Don looked over and understood what you were reacting to.

“Y/F/N, that’s Toye. Joe Toye.” he clarified slowly and deliberately so you could understand.

You stare back at him, progressively absorbing what he just said.

“Toye…” you echoed back.

Don nodded. You look back at Doc and Joe Toye, finally coming back down from your shock. 

As Malarkey pulled you up, Doc turned around noticing you were there.

“Hey, Y/F/N, come over here and hold this so I can wrap it up.”

You swiftly go to help Eugene, seeing Toye’s pale face as you get closer.

“Hang in there, Toye.” you say in your best reassuring tone.

~~~~~~~

That night, Corporal Penkala and Sgt. Skip Muck's foxhole took a direct hit, killing them instantly, a moment witnessed by George Luz. A dud shell also landed next to Luz and Lipton's foxhole, fortunately sparing their lives.

The eventful day the Germans provided had you and Eugene running around like crazy, following the cries of ‘medic’ in every direction. Both of you were running on steam, and you had yet to see Joe Liebgott at all since this attack began.

When the bombardment finally calmed down, it was too dark to venture out to find him. You decided the safest bet was to stay put. You would’ve heard by now if Joe had been transferred to the aid station. Or at least you hoped.

The following day, the move on the town of Foy commenced, thankfully with LT Speirs in command. As Easy company rushed the field towards the town, a sniper effectively picks off the men as they approach. The sniper is eventually taken down by a mortar and the men quickly enter Foy. With the village filled with attacking Germans, Speirs makes a suicidal run through the German front line to make contact with I Company. However, the most fascinating thing about what Speirs did wasn't that he successfully connected with I Company, but that he ran back the same way he'd gone unscathed.

~~~~~~~

After taking the town of Rachamps a few weeks later, Easy takes a much-needed rest in the solace of a local convent. The Sisters have taken the liberty of bringing in their choir to sing for soldiers. Of the 145 men that entered Bastogne, only 63 remained. After you have tended to the wounds of the soldiers that were hurt during the assault, you wander amongst the men to find your Joe.

You find Lipton and Speirs conversating in one of the aisles.

“Hey, Y/L/N, good to see ya. You doin’ ok?” Lipton asks.

You nod, “Yes sir. You?” 

“I’m just fine.” he responded softly.

You look at LT Speirs, “Sir?”

“I’m fine, Corporal.” he stated.

“You haven't seen Liebgott by chance, have you?” You ask, trying not to sound too distressed.

Lipton looked over the crowd of scattered soldiers.

“Yeah, he’s right over there. By the altar.” 

You look where he had pointed and see Joe sitting on the floor against the stone wall by himself where dozens of lit candles stood on iron stands around him. You B line to him, picking up the pace to get to him as fast as you could. As you get within ear shot you call out to him.

“Joe!” you manage to gasp.

Joe quickly looked up upon hearing your voice. His face lit up when he saw you, hastily standing up to meet you halfway. When you reached him, he enveloped you, lifting you up from the ground as he pressed you against his body.

You bury your face into the crook of his neck as happy tears began to cascade from your bloodshot eyes. Joe’s chest heaving from joy was electrifying, leaving you a melting mess in his arms while he lowered to your feet.

“I thought they got you.” you whispered through your sobs.

Joe scoffed, “Those Krauts ain’t gettin’ me.” 

He pulled away to look at your face. He used his gloved thumb to wipe your tears.

“I’m right here, Gams.” 

You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a desperate kiss. His arms snake around your waist, angling his head to intensify the lock he had on your lips. You unconsciously slack your jaw, allowing his tongue to slowly run along your lower lip. Although you both were lost in this magical moment, you suddenly became aware that you were ‘necking’ in a church and thought it best to behave before you both lost complete control.

You gently pull back as Joe’s disappointment clearly appeared across his face.

“We shouldn’t have done that here.” you admit.

Joe smiled at your properness. 

“If God didn’t want it to happen in His house, He wouldn’t have let it.” Joe justified.

You raise an eyebrow and smirk at him.

“It’s inappropriate.” you countered.

“So, you’re saying if it had been right outside the church, it would’ve been fine?” he countered. 

You giggle, “Perhaps.”

Joe laughed, “Well how about we find a place to rest, and we can just cuddle up?” he compromised.

“Yes.” you agree as he pulled you by the hand to where he was sitting.

The church had provided blankets to the men, which Joe had spread out on the floor picnic style. He sat against the wall, then offered his hand for you to hold as you lowered yourself down next to him. He folded his coat, placing it on his lap for you to lay your head on. You nuzzle into him, resting the side of your face onto the coat while he combed his finger softly through your mess of hair. 

Before you drift off to sleep, over the choir singing in the background, you hear a low gravelly whisper:

“Ikh hab dir lib (y)(I love you).”

~~~~~~~

February 9th, 1945

The plan had been to relieve Easy Company and head to Mourmelon. The following morning, orders changed after Hitler launched a counteroffensive in Alsace, and you were all to help hold the line in the town of Haguenau.

As Easy began loading up on trucks for Haguenau, PVT David Webster is dropped off by a depot Jeep,

"Thanks for the lift." Webster tells the driver.

As he greeted his battered comrades, he received no welcoming glance from any of them. The air of disdain grew thick as he passed each truck. He had been sent to an aid station long before Bastogne, and their collective resentment stemmed from his long stay in the hospital and his making no effort to return quickly and rejoin the company.

You're seated next to Joe in the bed of a deuce truck, huddled into him trying to keep warm as Webster walked up.

"Hey guys, some lieutenant told me to report to 2nd." he stated gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder behind him.

He looked at one of the soldiers across from you and Liebgott.

"You're name's Jackson, right?

"That's right." Jackson replied dryly.

"Who's leading the platoon?" Webster queried.

"Sgt Malarkey is." Jackson responded.

"What? No officers?" Webster questioned.

"I guess you didn't hear." Liebgott began, "They're making Malarkey lieutenant. He's on the fast track now."

"Really? That's great." Webster noted.

"Yeah, ain't it?" Joe replied sarcastically.

"Hey, Jackson, help me up, will ya?" Webster said trhowing his gear bag up onto the bed of the truck as he hoisted himself up.

Webster sat on the bench next to Jackson, then noticed you half passed out on Joe's shoulder. He observed the medic brassard on your left arm.

"New medic?" he asked, motioning with his head towards you.

Joe looked down at you, shifting your face onto his chest as he wrapped his left arm around you to hold you steady when the truck picked up speed.

"No. She's been here since the beginning." he stated, shooting a cold glance at Webster.

"So, you came from the hospital?" Jackson asked Webster.

"Yeah."

"Must've liked that hospital, cuz, uh, we left Holland four months ago." Joe sneered.

Webster felt the bitterness, “Well I wasn’t there the whole time. There was rehabilitation, then the replacement depot-“

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

“Well, I don’t know how I would’ve done that.” Webster defended.

“That’s funny, because Popeye found a way. So did Alley, right? Back in Holland,” Joe illustrated to Babe who was sitting on your left, “And Guarnere--”

“Yeah, where is Guarnere? He still your platoon sergeant?” Webster asked obliviously.

“No. He got hit.” Jackson answered bitterly.

The trucks arrived at Haguenau then came to a hard stop. The men started to unload from the rear. Joe gently nudged you.

“Zeit zu gehen, Liebling (g)(Time to go, darling).” Joe whispered to you.

“She speaks German, too?” Webster probed.

You strain your eyes to look at him.

“Who’s this?” you ask Joe.

“Webster.” Joe answered plainly.

“Hm, don’t you look all bright eyed and bushy tailed.” You say through a yawn.

Joe scoffed, “Yeah, had a four month furrlow, now he’s ready for war.” Joe joked.

Joe jumped from the bed of the truck, then offered his hand to you to help you down which you accepted.

“Spread out. Hold along this line ‘til I figure out where we’re going.” Malarkey called out.

“Sarge? Sarge-“ Webster approached Malarkey.

An incoming shell soared over and hit a nearby building before Malarkey could respond. An unexpecting frightened Webster dove to the ground while LT Speirs spectated in the background like a child watching a fireworks display.

“What’s the matter there, Webster? A little nervous in the service?” Malarkey teased.

~~~~~~~

Later in one of the abandoned houses of the town, Captain Speirs and LT Lipton were setting the place up as Command Post. Lipton had been fighting off pneumonia since you left Rachamps and was looking rather rough. You and Eugene had been hounding him since to take it easy, but he has chosen to keep pushing through for the men.

“Sir, pneumonia has killed people with rest. You keep pushin’ yourself like this you’re gonna die.” You lecture him, “Luz, go grab the man a blanket, will ya?”

You call out to George as you guide him back down onto the couch.

“I’ll be alright, Y/L/N.” Lipton assurred.

“Sgt Lipton? Feeling all right?” Webster’s voice carried through the room.

You look up, slightly annoyed, “Look at him. He’s got pneumonia, does he look all right?” you hiss.

“Sorry to hear that.” Webster replied.

“What are you sorry about?” Luz said as he threw a wool blanket over Lipton, “He’s alive, he’s got a couch, a goddamn blanket. He’s snug as a bug.”

“Well, if the man would stay off his feet and keep warm...maybe eat something, he may actually recover.” You state firmly.

Lipton sighed, “I promise I will try harder to take it easy, Y/F/N.”

You hum is disbelief as you try to start a fire in the fireplace to heat some soup for him.

"You fuckin' Italians think you can solve everything with food." Luz said outloud.

You glare over your shoulder at him.

"Non vengo pagata abbastanza per essere tua madre (i)(I don't get paid enough to be your mother)." you mumble under your breath.

Luz's face twisted with confusion, "Huh?"

"Nothin'." you reply curtly.

“Have a seat Webster, I’ll help you get situated.” Lipton said pointing to the chair nearest to him.

Webster observed you by the fireplace.

“So, you Liebgott’s girl?” Webster inquired.

You start the fire and hang a tin cup with water and broth above it before you respond.

“What if I am?”

He stared back in shock.

“Just wonderin’.”

“You got a lot to say, don’tchya? A little advice, David Webster, quit asking these guys so many questions about who went where. Don’t make them relive all their losses so soon. Got it?” you say with spitfire behind your voice.

Webster’s jaw fell open while his eyes widened.

“Um, yeah. Got it.” He uttered.

You give him one last look over and leave the room.

Upon your return, a replacement officer arrived while Captain Speirs moved about the room shuffling through some papers he had snatched from Lipton’s hands.

“Listen, for chrissake, will ya go back in the back and sack out? There’s beds back there with fresh sheets.” Speirs ordered Lipton before he could say anything.

“THANK YOU, SIR.” You project across the room to the Captain, “I guess it takes a direct order from the CO to get you to do what me and Doc been askin' you to do for days.” You assert with exasperation.

Lipton shot you a frustrated expression, “I will, sir, I was just tryin’ to make myself useful, sir.”

~~~~~~~

Another abandoned building was designated as barracks for the companies occupying the town. Floors that were able to bare weight, had bunks lining the walls in each room. You had a single bed to yourself that was conveniently arranged where the headboard of your bed met Liebgott’s bottom bunk. You lay on Joe’s bed briefly to rest your eyes.

The new officer, LT Jones, entered the room to let Malarkey know that at 0100, a mission was to commence across the river to obtain POW’s for interrogation. After Jones took Malarkey aside to go over a few details, Liebgott took Webster to the bunks to get the information out of him.

“Hey, Web. Come here, I wanna talk to you for a second.”

“Why??” Webster asked alarmed.

“You want some coffee?”

“No.” Webster replied quickly, paranoid by Joe’s sudden act of kindness.

Joe looked at Jackson, “Fifteen.”

“Fifteen what?” Jackson asked.

“Looeys since D-Day,” Joe replied, “This kid out of high school yet?”

Joe asked looking at LT Jones talking to Malarkey by the window.

“West Point.” Webster replied.

“Isn’t that where Ike went?” Jackson asked.

“He actually graduated with his son.” Webster clarified.

“Shit. So, uh, what do you know about this patrol thing?” Joe interrogated Webster.

You sat up from Joe’s bunk.

“Patrol?” you asked, somewhat panicked.

“Uh, nothing.” Webster lied.

“Oh, come on, I know you know something.” Ramirez pushed.

“I don’t!” Webster insisted.

Joe spit at the floor, “Bullshit. You were there, right? At the CP. This is a prisoner snatch, right? Come on, Webster. Spill it.” Joe pressured.

You shifted onto the side of the mattress to hear better.

“Capt Speirs is to pick fifteen men. LT Jones wants to be one of them.”

“I say let the kid go. He could use the experience.” Joe said with a cynical smile.

“Probably could find fourteen replacements to help him out.” Ramirez added.

“Who’s going?” You chime in, asking Webster, “I assume they need a translator and a medic.”

“I don’t know who.” he replied.

You roll your eyes at him.

“Why are you holding out on me? I know you know-” Joe accused Webster, “Who?”

Webster hesitated, “Well, if I tell you, you can’t let anyone know I let you know.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, Web. Who is it?” Joe urged.

Webster paused, “Heffron-“

“Oh, shit.” Babe huffed.

“-McClung, and Ramirez.” He ended.

“He want any other guys from any other platoon?” Joe asked.

“No. I don’t know. Not that I know of. That’s all I know, I’m sorry.”

~~~~~~~

“2nd Platoon, on me!” Malarkey called right outside the shower tents that were set up for the soldiers to finally have a proper hot shower.

The men form up around him.

“All right, I’m leading this patrol. CO wants Grant, Liebgott, Wynn, Jackson, Shifty from 3rd platoon, and Webster.” He relayed.

“They don’t want anyone from first?” Cobb asked.

“No.”

“Is there anyone they don’t want from 2nd Platoon? Jesus Christ-” Joe expressed sarcastically rolling his eyes, “It’s always 2nd Platoon. I swear to God, if we were down to three guys, they’d still want us for it.”

Joe trudged off towards the showers.

You run after Malarkey, “Malark, they didn’t say anything about bringing a medic?”

“Those were the only names they gave me, Y/L/N.” he replied wryly.

“Maybe you can suggest I come with-“

“Y/F/N, those are the names. I’m sure there’s a reason they’re not sending you or Doc.” he barked.

You coward back slightly, trying not to push the subject any further.

He softened his demeanor realizing he was overreacting some, “I know you wanna be there, but we can’t afford to lose more people, let alone medics. Especially good ones. Get it?” he explained as warmly as he could muster.

“Ya, sarge, I understand.” You reply with a weak smile.

He gave you an encouraging nod and walked to the shower tent. You realized you were about to be surround by dozens of naked men and should probably head back to the bunks before you see too much.

~~~~~~~

Back at CP, Luz was unpacking what looked to be dozens of chocolate bars and candies sent from the Post Exchange from Stateside. His Easy Company brothers progressively encircling him like vultures trying to convince him to share as he counted them to record for inventory.

“Goddamn it, Johnny, you’re breaking my heart, I’m telling ya!” Luz started.

“Come on, George, just give me, I don’t know, 10, 15 bars.” Martin begged.

Luz slammed down a small pack of gum on the surface of the table, “Here, Juicy Fruit! Happy?”

Another soldier walked in behind Cobb and Martin, “Just got report of movement. 1st Sergeant Lipton wants you to lay a few bazooka rounds into a house across the river.”

“You’d think we’d get just one Hershey bar-“ Martin complained disregarding the soldier’s report.

“Come on, Luz, you’re 1st platoon at heart.” Cobb pushed.

“Jesus, Cobb, there’s not enough-“ Luz explained.

Liebgott entered the room with you right behind him. Webster and LT Jones entered not too long after you.

“Whoa, Hershey bars!!” Joe exclaimed.

“Where!?” you ask trying to look over Joe’s shoulder on your tiptoes.

Luz rolled his eyes, “Jesus Christ!”

“Wait your turn Liebgott, Y/L/N.” Cobb commanded.

“Yeah, yeah, who they for?” Liebgott dismissed.

“Not you! Not even for Y/F/N!” Luz established sternly.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, “I am offended, George! Have I not taken care of you when you needed it?”

“Yeah, and so has Doc but I don’t see him in here asking for handouts.” He replied.

“Oh, come on, George, one bar for me and Y/F/N, we’ll share one.” Joe pushed.

“No! There’s not enough to go around!” Luz claimed.

“Hey, big mouth, give the kid a Hershey bar.” A familiar voice projected across the room.

Everyone looked up and saw Frank Perconte back from the aid station after receiving a bullet by the Germans in his left buttocks.

The guys laughed collectively.

“You gotta be shittin’ me!” Luz said with a wide smile.

“Look who it is!” Joe added.

“What’s up guys? I like what you did with the place, George.” Perconte jested.

“Yeah, yeah, I did good. How you feelin’?”

“As long as you keep your hands off my ass, I’ll be fine.”

Luz chuckled, “Here have a Hershey.”

He tossed a candy bar across the room to Frank.

“He gets a fuckin’ Hershey bar?” Joe protested.

“Well, he got shot in the ass!” Luz retorted.

Martin walked over to Perconte, “Did I tell you to stick your big ass out in the wind?”

“No! But I expect a little sympathy from you, right?” Frank repsonded.

“Yeah, should I rub it for ya?” Martin teased trying to spank his left butt cheek.

Perconte quickly shuffled to the side, “Get the fuck outta here!”

“Can you believe this guy? I try to get him out of the fuckin’ war, he comes straight back!” Martin stated.

“Yeah, well, that’s not what I heard. I heard the Krauts are finished.” Frank said.

“Yeah, well, just to make sure, we gotta row across the fucking river tonight, grab a few, and ask them in person.” Joe explained.

Frank’s disappointment surfaced across his face.

“Ya kidding me?”

Joe shook his head, “Wish I was. Welcome back, Frank.”

~~~~~~~

At 1700 back at CP later that day, a briefing was to be held by Capt Winters about the upcoming patrol for that night. The soldiers listed on the roster to go sat around a long dining room oak table with LT Jones standing awkwardly off to the side.

With Capt Speirs’ and Lipton’s permission, you also attended the briefing, standing across the room where you had a clear view of Joe sitting at the head of the table. You could see the guys secretly whispering their opinions to eachother about LT Jones leading the mission instead of Malarkey.

“No way. Not on his first day.” Grant stated.

Joe rubbed his bottom lip thoughtfully, “Well, do you see any other officer here?”

Webster, standing behind Joe’s chair, crossed his arms, then looked at Lt Jones sympatheticlly, knowing the frustrations of being doubted for being “the new guy.” Another handful of Easy soldiers entered the room.

“Who’s in charge of this bullshit?” one of them asked. He looked over his shoulder at LT Jones. “No he ain’t.” he determined outwardly.

“Well, if he ain’t, it’s you, Chuck. Or Shifty, or Mo.” Babe asserted.

“Well, that would be better.” Joe appended.

You feel your stomach twist into knots at his words. And as if he felt your anxiousness, he shifted his attention to you, meeting your gaze across the room. He gave you his signature infectious Liebgott grin, and you couldn't help but smile back.

“Ten-hut!” Jones called out to bring the room to attention as Captain Winters walked into the room.

“At ease.” Winters instructed the men.

Winters explained that they were to cross the river in four rubber boats with LT Jones, the ranking officer will go along as an observer. Sergeant Martin was to lead the patrol in Malarkey’s place. He assured the guys that the battalion will be covering their withdrawal with the POW’s, and were to utilize the whistles provided to signal to them to blast the outpost after they’ve safely returned to the boats.

“Remember, it’s about prisoners,” Winters reiterated firmly, “-Don’t pop the first thing that moves.”

Winters flashed a brief glance at Liebgott before continuing.

“Clear?”

The men mutually responded, “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Picked your assault team?” he asked Martin.

“McClung, Liebgott, Sisk, Cobb, Garcia, and Webster, as translator. The rest of you guys, a base of fire with Sergeant Grant. You speak German, right, Webster?”  Martin bellowed at Webster across the table.

“Yeah, a little bit.” Webster replied meekly.

Not before wishing his men good luck, Winters made his exit.

“A little German?” Joe began, “-his German’s as good as mine. And Y/F/N’s.”

Joe motioned with his head towards you. You look at the floor somewhat flattered, but also frustrated that two soldiers who speak German would be going on this mission when they really only needed one. This thought had you pushing down angry tears.

Coincidently, Webster had the same thoughts.

As you file outside with the guys out of CP, you immediately head back to the barracks so Joe wouldn't see you upset before he left. Webster approached Capt Winters, Capt Speirs, Martin, and LT Jones.

“Sir?”

“Yes?” Winters acknowledged.

“Liebgott and I, we both speak German. You said fifteen men, there’s sixteen of us, including two translators.” Webster elluded.

“Well, fine,” Speirs began, “Hey, Liebgott. You wanna sit this one out?”

Joe’s obvious elation displayed on his face, “Yes, sir,” he looked at Web, “Thanks, buddy!”

~~~~~~~

I’m dedicating this chapter to my lovelies @wordsaresimple-imnot @mrs-greenside @skiesofrosie @yourspeirs for sharing and fueling my everlasting enthusiasm of BoB

❤️🪖♠️🦅

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

That had me tearin' up a bit.

Very cute.

Heyyy can I have a Joe Toye request. He asks a girl to dance one weekend while at Toccoa and really likes her and blah blah blah. Goes off to war. Then meets again after he’s wounded, maybe she’s a nurse, and he’s all ashamed because he can’t dance now, but she likes him anyway. Or something. Idk, I just have the bare bones idea. 🤔

Hi! I kinda went with your idea and i really hope it's okay and it's what you we're thinking of. it gave me so many Joe Toye feels and i didn't think i was possible to fall more in love with him. 

All requests are open💕

Taglist: @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @floydtab @curraheewestandalone @liebegott @vintagelavenderskies

Dance with Me

Joe looked at her sitting all by herself. While all her fellow nurses got up to dance with various guys, Y/N sat tapping her feet to the music. He couldn’t understand how no one had asked her to dance.

Joe placed his drink down on the table with sudden realisation. He thought Y/N was beautiful and he couldn’t stand to see her alone, but he was also glad she wasn’t pressed closely against some paratrooper who would run his dirty hands all over her. “I want her” Joe nodded at Y/N with his head

“You go get ‘em” Luz rolled his eyes at his friends knowing full well he couldn’t dance to save his life.

With one last look, Joe stood to his feet and It was like he had tunnel vision. Nothing else mattered except Y/N and he couldn’t help but wonder how her hand would feel wrapped in his. He realised he would have to ask her before he could dream about how her skin felt.

The closer he got the further away he felt and the more his nerves made him shake. At some point, he caught her attention and she was staring back at him. It was too late to back out now, he thought. She had seen him walking towards her and he didn’t want the embarrassment of having to return to his friends after chickening out.

Joe had crossed the room and as he stood in front of her, he suddenly lost the use of his voice. Y/N waited for him to speak but Joe was in awe of her and the way she held herself. “Dance” He blurted out. Joe closed his eyes in awkwardness. He didn’t even say hello or tell her his name.

When Joe opened his eyes, he expected Y/N to be bewildered and get up and leave, but there was nothing but a warm look in her eyes. “Are you asking me to dance soldier?”  

“I’m trying to” he said in a mousy tone of voice, almost shrinking away from her. Joe looked at the floor as he felt his cheeks redden, but he didn’t miss the smirk she sent his way. Y/N held out her hand, which he took both gratefully and confused.

She was the one to lead him to the dance floor and he gladly let her. Y/N turned to face him, placing both of Joe’s hands on her waist and hers around his neck. The feeling of her hand gripping his neck was everything he thought it would be and more.

Joe continued to stare at his feet, trying to avoid standing on her toes, and he only looked up when Y/N spoke into his ear. “So, are you going to tell me your name soldier?”

After that night, Y/N and Joe were inseparable when they both had free time. Although spare time was rare, because he was running Currahee or doing more jump training, he always made time for her. When she wasn’t learning how to treat gunshot wound or about bandages, she was at Joe’s side.

When he had to leave for Aldbourne, he promised to write her every chance he got. It was a promise he kept and despite the terribly horrific mail service, Y/N received letters from Joe. Sometimes two came at once due to the backlog of deliveries. She lived for his letters, his handwriting like a song she was desperate to hear. The letters became few and far between the longer the war went on, but she didn’t blame Joe because she surely knew he was busy.

One day the letters stopped coming altogether. At first, Y/N though it was the crappy mail service, but the other nurses were getting their mail just fine. She kept writing to him for weeks with not a single reply. It wasn’t until she asked her friend Anna, who was dating Donald Malarkey in Joe’s company, to ask her boyfriend what was up that she learned why he hadn’t been replying. For months she worried about him, but little did she know what had happened to him and poor Bill Guarnere in Bastogne.

The months she spent writing letters to him in Europe and he was lying in an adjacent hospital ward to the one she worked in. As soon as she found out, Y/N went to see him, but he didn’t want to see her. No matter how many times she tried to get in, she was refused entry on Joe’s orders. She decided to write him more letters, giving them to the nurse on duty instead of mailing.

Seven or eight letters and three weeks later Y/N had enough. She was going into that ward whether Joe Toye liked it or not and she was going to give him a piece of her mind.

Y/N pulled the curtain back to see Joe sitting up in his bed looking out the window. His head snapped towards her when he heard the hooks of the curtain screeching against the metal pole and his face fell. The rollercoaster of emotions on his face could be easily read. Fear to shame, to anger.

“Get out.” Despite the rage boiling with him he never screamed or raised his voice. He wasn’t mad at her; he was mad that she was seeing him in the state he was currently in. All the scrapes on his face and arms were nearly finished healing, but his leg, although under a thin white sheet, was obviously wrapped up in thick layers of bandages.

“Joe- “

“Leave, please.” His chest was heaving, trying to breathe and calm himself down.

Y/N stood still, her legs heavy like stone, even if she wanted to move, she couldn’t. She stared at him while he looked everywhere but at her. The silence between them was full of tension and discomfort. In all the time she had known him, there was never an awkward moment between them.

“Joe, talk to me.” She sounded desperate, the quiet between them was killing her. She needed to know why he was ignoring her and pushing her away.

“I can't dance.” He blurted it out with a tone that was obviously harsher than he meant. His shoulders relaxed as he let out a heavy breath and she watched his eyes momentarily close. “I can't- I can't dance.”

Joe’s brown eyes avoided looking at her, missing the baffled expression on her face. The completely unexpected and spontaneous admission confused Y/N to no end. What has dancing got to do with anything?

She didn’t understand. Joe was sweet and he always had a smile waiting for her. Ever since she had met him, he had never uttered a word in a harsh tone towards here, and yet here he was like his personality had done a complete U-turn.

“Joe, what do you mean?” Y/N only had the words out of her mouth, and she remembered his leg. Glancing down, she wanted to slap herself there and then. Joe reached down to touch where his leg should’ve been in an almost automatic reaction.

Joe looked at her looking at his leg. He tried to read her reaction. Pity was the last thing he wanted and certainly not from her. He would rather she blew into anger or a fit of rage than stand in front of him with sympathy written all over her face.

She could see him battling with himself to choose the right words. The expression on his face was a mixture of fear and embarrassment. He was ashamed. Y/N knew Joe struggled to describe his feelings, especially when it came to her. Patience was the only way to deal with him when he got like this. “The night we met- “

When he didn’t continue his sentence, Y/N knew he was lost for words. He couldn’t say what he wanted to say out straight and direct, so she chose another method. It was guaranteed to get him to talk to her at least. “You hadn’t said two words to me until you asked me to dance.” Y/N beamed.

“The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” The memory would be forever engraved in his mind, something he thought of regularly at night in his foxhole. Joe felt his heart sing and break all at once. With a hoarse voice he swallowed the lump in his throat and begged the tears not to fall.

They fell into another silence and Joe was sure she could hear his heart pounding against his chest. He was so deeply in love with her he was prepared to let her go and move on with someone else. He didn’t want her to settle for him and look back in twenty years’ time and regret visiting him in the hospital. He didn’t want her to stay with him because she felt some sort of obligation towards him just because they were together.

“Dancing, that’s what your problem is? You want to dance, with me?” Y/N almost laughed, but for his sake she didn’t. He didn’t answer, avoiding her eyes once again and suddenly interested on the loose thread of the white hospital sheets.

“You should be with someone you can dance with, someone who can make you as happy as you were that night.”

It was then Y/N couldn’t hold in her slight laugh. Biting her lip was the only way to stop herself and she felt bad for poor Joe. Obviously offended, his face dropped causing her to place her hand on his cheek. At first, he physically flinched away but against his better judgement he leaned against her hand. “Joe, I only danced because you asked me. I'm not a big lover of dancing, that’s why I was sitting on my own.”

He couldn’t believe it. The whole time he lay in the hospital bed he thought back to that night and he swore he had never seen someone as happy as Y/N did on that dance floor. The thought of not being able to make her that happy ever again scared him. He could live with only one leg, but he couldn’t live with knowing he was stopping the person he loved from truly being happy.

“I love you” Joe placed his hand over hers, kissing her palm.

“I love you too.” Y/N noticed his hand was rougher than she remembers, but it didn’t change how she felt about him. He was her Joey, no matter what. “And besides, I wouldn’t want to dance with anyone but you.”

[mccall-muffin]

Hi! I'm not sure if your requests are open, but if they are I was wondering if you could write something fluffy l for Joe Toye? I adore your writing and I have already written three papers since Monday and your writing, amongst a few others, has not so low key helped me through so much if it <3

Well hello dear anon :)

First of all: thank you soooooo much for your kind words! This really made my day 🥰

So, I got a little something for you and I really hope you like it!

Warnings: Language, Fluffy Fluff, War wounds

The price I pay // Joe Toye x Reader

June 6, 1944 - St. Marie-du-Mont, Normandy, France

"Hey guys," Mike Ranney says as he opens the hatch to the truck where Guarnere, Lipton, Malarkey, Buck, Toye, and Plesha are sitting. "Hey Ranney, what's up?" asks Bill, and they all look at him curiously. Mike, however, looks primarily at Joe. "Y/L/N's here," he then says curtly, and Joe exchanges a quick glance with Bill before getting up and jumping out of the truck.

"Where is she?" he asks, looking urgently at Mike. The latter points to a house a bit further back.

As fast as Joe can, he runs toward it. He stops when he spots you taking off your helmet and shaking your hair. "Y/N," he breathes, and you turn to face him.

Your face is still dirty from the grease, and you look drained. "Joe?" you ask in surprise as you look at him, but he has already covered the few feet and takes you in his arms. "Fuck," he mumbles, hugging you to him. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to show up." You hug him to you as well, breathing in his familiar scent.

"Well, I'm here now," you say, slowly breaking away from Joe.

"Hey, Y/N! Good to see you," Bill, who has followed Joe, greets you. He also hugs you, but your gaze stays on Joe. "We thought you'd gone off the deep end." Now you smile briefly at Bill. "Don't worry. You won't be getting rid of me that quickly." "Not that we'd want to," Joe says, putting an arm around your shoulders again. You smile at him from below.

"You guys got any grub? I'm starving," you say as the two of them lead you to the truck. "Maybe the guys left you something," Bill says, opening the flap. However, the air that pours out of the truck toward you is anything but pleasant. "Holy shit, what is that?" you ask, looking at the guys sitting in the truck.

"Nice hello to you too, Y/N," Buck says with a grin. You smile tiredly. "Sorry," you say, rubbing your face. Again, Joe puts an arm around your shoulders. "Don't worry; it's only Malarkey that stinks, not the food. You got any left?" "Ah yeah, insult first and demand later," Malark quips, holding out the box of cooked food to you. You take out your plate, and he scoops up a portion for you.

"Do you want to join us?" asks Buck then, making a move to scoot over, but you shake your head. "That's sweet of you, but I'll just find a quiet corner and eat peacefully."

You thank them again for the food before heading back out. In a quiet alley, you sit down on the ground and eat. The day has sapped your strength, and you are just plain tired.

"Mind if I join you?" Joe asks you, and you look up as he suddenly stands before you. You nod with your mouth full, and he slides in next to you.

"How are you feeling?" he asks after a while, during which you've been sitting next to each other in comfortable silence, and you've finished your food. "Exhausted. I'm just exhausted. I've been wandering around aimlessly like a lunatic for the last two days, not knowing where to go. This is definitely not how I imagined my first jump."

"Neither did I, believe me. But the main thing is that you're here now, and I can keep an eye on you again," Joe says with a smile, and you look at him from the side. "You know you don't have to, don't you?" "I know, but I want to," Joe says softly. "I was really worried about you, Y/N." Your eye contact lasts for a moment before you turn away, blushing.

"Y/N, I-," Joe begins, but then Bill approaches you. "Hey, fellas, we're moving out. Winter's orders," he informs us. Sighing, you stand up and put your helmet back on. Just as you're about to follow Bill, Joe holds you back.

"Y/N."

You turn back to Joe and look at him questioningly. "Yeah?" Joe doesn't say anything at first, then he comes up to you, takes your face in his hands, and kisses you demanding. You are caught off guard for a millisecond, but then you kiss him back with equal determination. You grab his jacket and pull him even closer to you.

As Joe slowly pulls away from you, you look into each other's eyes. "Wow," you breathe with a laugh and take a step back. "What was that for?" "Simply for you. Because you're you, and you're perfect the way you are," Joe says, biting his lip briefly. Joe stares at the ground briefly before taking your hands in his. "Y/N... I have to tell you before we go. You don't even know how much you mean to me. My feelings for you have grown stronger over the past two years, and when you didn't show up at the venue, I realized how strong they are."

You listen to Joe's words, and warmth spreads through you. "Joe-" you whisper, "No, please let me finish. Ever since I first saw you, you've messed with my head. I didn't realize it until later, but I'm more aware now than ever. I'm in love with you, Y/N." For a second, you look at Joe. Then you put your arms around his neck and kiss him again before grinning, stepping away from him, and walking back towards the others.

January 3, 1945 - Bois Jacques Woods, Bastogne, Belgium

"You've got to be fucking kidding me, right?" you exclaim as you spot Joe in line between Penkala and Skip. "Uh oh, here it goes," you hear Skip say, nudging Webb, a replacement. "Now it's getting interesting."

You stand in front of Joe and poke him in the chest with your finger, "What the hell are you doing here?" "Hey, whoa... I just wanted to get back to you guys. I ain't vegetating on no aid station like this," he returns. "Where'd you been hit?" Webb then asks, and you give him an annoyed look. "What's that?" asks Joe. "Oh, that's Webb. Replacement," Skip explains to him, which also earns him a nasty look from you.

"Really? Thought it was some guy I've known for two years, and I forgot his face," Joe then says, drawing his attention back to you. "Don't change the subject now, okay?!" "Joe got hit in the arm. A new years eve gift from the Luftwaffe," Penkala then says. "That's right. Three days ago! So again: what are you doing here?"

Behind you, you hear Bill laughing to himself. Joe grabs some food, and the two of you walk a little away from the other's prying ears. "What was I supposed to do, Y/N? I didn't want to stay there." "I know, but you should rest! You know that as well as I do."

Joe puts a hand on your arm. "Now calm down, babydoll. It's all good. Winters knows I'm here and has given his OK. I didn't want to be away from you any longer, don't you understand?" Your expression softens. Joe knows exactly what that means. "Come on, you're glad I'm back," he teases, and you can't suppress a smile. "I'd rather you get better, but I can't deny that I'm glad to see you." Joe takes your hand in his and presses a kiss to it. "I knew it, baby."

Later that afternoon:

You arrive back at your old position at the front as Joe jumps into his foxhole. "You gotta be fucking kidding me," he immediately exclaims, and you look down at him. A small smile appears on your face. "Someone's gonna die. Someone's gonna fucking die. Guarnere, Y/N, look at this shit! One of those 1st Battalion fuckers took a dump in my foxhole." You exchange a quick glance with Bill, who looks around. There are exploded trees all around you. "I think they shit in everyone's foxhole, Joe. I don't think they wanted to spend much time above ground." You nod in agreement, then look back at Joe, climbing back out of the foxhole.

He walks up to you and stops in front of you. "Those assholes," he grumbles. "Come on; I'm sure we wouldn't feel any different if we were in their situation."

Joe looks around for a moment, then pulls you behind two trees. "What are you doing?" you ask with a laugh, but Joe immediately presses your back against a tree and kisses you passionately. "I just wanted to say hello to you properly." You giggle and kiss him again. "Hi."

"Hey, Y/N! You think the foxhole will fix itself?" you suddenly hear Malarkey call out, with whom you and Bill share your foxhole. "I think I should go," you whisper to Joe, and he nods. "I'll see you later," he whispers back, and you nod before saying your goodbyes. You head towards the foxhole and hear the familiar sound of artillery fire before you get to it.

You jump into the hole with Don and Bill as quickly as you can. "Damn bastards!" you curse, fervently hoping that Joe still made it to his foxhole. For several minutes, you are bombarded. When it finally dies down, Bill looks at you with concern. "Everything okay?" he asks you, and you nod. "Yeah, everything's still there." "Maybe we should see if anybody's hit," Don says, and Bill looks at him with a frown. "Malark, that's what they want," he says. "The Krauts are trying to draw us out in the open." "I think Bill is right. We should wait," you agree with Bill.

Silence has fallen around you, but you hear what sounds like a groan. Confused, you look at Bill again. "I need my helmet. I need help!" You hear the words more clearly, sending a shiver down your spine. You'd recognize that voice anywhere. "You hear that?" asks Don. "Is that Joe?" adds Bill, and the three of you look in the direction the cries for help are coming from. "Help!" "Fuck, that is Joe! I need to get to him!" you then say, already wanting to climb out of the foxhole, but Bill pulls you back. "You stay here, Y/N! Do you think Joe would forgive me if something happened to you?"

With those words, Bill climbs out of the hole and heads toward Joe's foxhole. For a moment, nothing happens, and you and Don look anxiously in that direction.

But then it happens. Fire is opened on you again. "Fuck, Don!" you shout, ducking further into the hole while holding your helmet. Again you let minutes of horror wash over you until the bombs finally fall silent. Again you make moves to climb out of the foxhole, but this time Malarkey pulls you back. "Are you crazy? Haven't you learned anything right now?" he asks, upset. "I just want to check on Joe, Malark." "I know, Y/N, and I understand, but there's no point in putting your life on the line right now. At least wait a few minutes."

"Medic!"

You both look up at the call. It's coming again from the direction Bill disappeared. "Don!" you say urgently, but he shakes his head. "Doc's got this covered, I'm sure. I'm not letting you go," he says, and you give him a dirty look. "You really think you can stop me?" you ask, and Don raises an eyebrow. "Uh, yeah! And if I have to sit on you!"

You sigh and look again in the direction from which the screams came earlier. You stay in the foxhole for a few minutes. Again and again, you glance nervously at your watch. "It's been almost ten minutes Malark." Don still looks nervously in that direction before looking at you again. "All right. Go," he says, and you don't wait long before you climb out of the foxhole and start running.

Slithering, you arrive at a small clearing and falter, for what you see nearly tears your heart.

Joe and Bill are lying on the ground in front of you. Both look pretty battered, and you quickly realize that Joe is missing one leg entirely from the knee down, and Bill's doesn't look too healthy. You are frozen in shock for a moment, but then Joe's gaze finds yours. You can see the pain in his face, but you're unsure if it's just physical pain. It snaps you out of your thoughts, and you immediately kneel down to Joe.

"Hey," you say softly, looking at him. "Y/N," he gasps, and you take his hand in yours. Doc Roe is already sitting by his leg, bandaging it. You look down for a moment and then back at Joe. "Doc, what can I do?" you ask, and he presses something into your hand. "Hold this." "You got a smoke?" Bill asks, and you look up at him. You reach into your pocket for a second and toss him your pack.

"Jesus, what's a guy gotta do to get killed around here?" Joe then asks through clenched teeth, and you look back at him. "You won't die here, you understand me?" you clarify. "Y/N, how am I supposed to-?" he begins, but you immediately interrupt him. "No! Stop it right now, will you? You can do this. We can do this together," you say, looking at him urgently.

"Bill, you're going first," Doc says as two more medics come in and put him on a barre. "Whatever you say, Doc, whatever you say," is all Bill says as he tosses you back your smokes. You take two out right away and give one to Joe. "Thanks," he whispers.

At that moment, Lip comes running up and looks at his two men. He rubs his forehead, and your eyes meet. You're still stroking Joe's hand, who s sitting on the floor, cramped.

"Fuck, Y/N. That's it," he says, and you look at him questioningly. "What are you talking about?" "Well, about this," he says, pointing to his leg. "How am I supposed to take care of you with this? I... I can't be the man I want to be for you like this. I - Jesus! You can't want me like this anymore." For a moment, you look at Joe in irritation. "Joseph John Toye, now listen to me very carefully, will you? I love you. I don't care if you have two legs or just one; you got that? And I've told you a thousand times; you don't have to take care of me!"

Joe holds your gaze. "You still want me?" he almost whispers. "Nothing would change my mind about that," you say, smiling slightly. Then you lean down and kiss him. "I'll come to you as soon as I can."

Two men then kneel beside Joe and hoist him onto a barre. Joe is still holding your hand. "Take care of yourself, Y/N, will you? And don't die, babydoll!" "I don't plan to," you smile wearily as they take him away.

November 22, 1945 - Hughestown, Pennsylvania, USA

Nervously, you stand in front of the entrance door. You look again at the address Winters gave you and then again at the door before you ring the bell. It takes a moment before the door is opened.

An older woman stands in front of you and smiles kindly at you. "Yes, please?" she asks, eyeing you. "Good afternoon, ma'am; I'm sorry to bother you. I am looking for Joseph Toye. My name is Y/N Y/L/N-" The woman immediately begins to smile. "Sure thing. Come in." She opens the door a little wider and lets you enter.

Still nervous, you knead your cap in your fingers. "Come," the lady says and leads you into the kitchen. She offers you a chair, and you sit down. She puts a cup of coffee in front of you, and you begin to wonder if coming here was a wise idea. The woman, you now assume to be Mrs. Toye, Joe's mother, stands there, eyeing you with a smile.

"Ma?" You hear someone call out, and warmth instantly spreads as you recognize the voice. "Who was that?" The footsteps come closer, and then Joe appears in the kitchen doorway. Dressed in civilian clothes, leaning on crutches, he stands there, and when he spots you, his face lights up.

"Y/N?"

You leap to your feet and toward him as quickly as you can. You take him in your arms, not thinking that his balance is not as good as it used to be, and you almost fall. Tears of joy run down your cheeks. Joe drops his crutches and pulls you toward him. "Oh my God, you're finally here!" he whispers in your ear. As he gently pushes you off of him, he wipes away your tears before kissing you passionately.

"I missed you so much!" he says, and you both sit at the table. "Ma, this is... This is Y/N," Joe then says, smiling at his mother. "It's an extraordinary pleasure to meet you, Y/N. Joe hasn't stopped talking about you." "Maaa!" "What? It's true," his mother says with a smile. "Are you hungry? Do you want me to cook you something?" Joe looks at you for a moment but then shakes his head. "Would you give us a moment?" Mrs. Toye nods and then leaves the kitchen.

Joe immediately takes your face in his hands again and kisses you again. "You don't know how happy I am to see you here before me, alive and well!" You force yourself to smile and nod at him. "Is everything all right?" "As far as it goes, yes... When you were gone, it wasn't easy. I'll be honest with you; we saw things..." You break off. The memory of the concentration camp is still deep in your bones.

Joe takes your hand in his. "Hey, it's okay. You don't have to talk about it. I know what it's like."

You look at Joe and then smile before touching his cheek. "How are you doing?" you then ask. Joe lowers his eyes for a moment. "Well, I finally got out of that fucking hospital two months ago. Then I came here and my ma... Well, she took care of me. I have to learn to make it on my own first." "You don't have to," you say directly. "I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere." Joe puts his hand on yours, then smiles.

"I have something for you," he says and stands up before disappearing from the room. Confused, you watch him go. It's not long before Joe comes back and sits down again.

He takes your hand in his again. "I'll be honest with you, Y/N. The time in those hospitals wasn't easy. Luckily, I had Bill to keep me company. In any case, I was worried about you. I had nightmares that you had died, and it was hard every time I woke up and realized I couldn't see you. I was relieved when we got the news that the war was over. I hadn't received any news that you were dead until then, which is why you could come home now." He lowers his eyes for a moment. "Then came the fear that you wouldn't return to me after all. That you'd changed your mind. Who wants to be with a one-legged cripple. What can I offer her anyway? Those are just a few of the thoughts I've had."

Slightly shocked, you look at Joe, and tears form in your eyes that he even had such thoughts. "Joe-" you start, but he interrupts you, "No, let me finish first. Bill has been helping me. He assured me that you'd come back to me. That you loved me. And I wanted to believe him; I really did. But I only believe it now. Now that you're finally standing in front of me again. And so..." He rummages in his pants pocket and pulls out a small box. "I've been carrying this around for a long time, Y/N, and it's just for you. I love you with all my heart. Because of you, I survived this fucking war and this." He points to his leg. "Just the thought of you loving me gave me strength. And that's why..."

Joe grabs a pillow and throws it on the floor before kneeling down on half his leg. "Y/N Y/L/N. I can't live without you anymore. I don't want to live without you anymore. I want to spend my life with you and always have you by my side. So will you do me the honor, and will you be my wife?"

The tears have now found their way down your cheeks anyway. You look Joe in the eye before smiling. "Sure I will! Jesus, I love you, Joe!"

Joe gets back up as quickly as possible, but you're throwing your arms around his neck at least as fast. Joe smiles and then kisses you tenderly. "How did I ever deserve you," he whispers between kisses to your lips. Joe gently pushes you off of him and then slides the beautiful ring onto your finger, making you smile.

"If my leg was the price for letting me see that beautiful smile every day, I gladly paid it. Just for you, my love."

[softguarnere]

Like A Girl (Like A Man)

Shifty Powers x OFC

Chapter Three: Brother in Three Languages

Taglist: @latibvles @liebgotts-lovergirl

Summary: Routine may be her downfall after all.

Warnings: mentions of improper chest binding and menstruation, mentions of sickness, and like one cuss word

A/N: *cracks knuckles* Okay folks, settle in for a caveat.

If you've read my one shots in the past, then you know that I'm simply here for a good time, not a 100% historically accurate time. I've never seen a specific mention of exactly which tribe Shifty's family was from, but based on the area that he's from, and the fact that there are people on the Miller Roll with his father's last name and his mother's maiden name, we're gonna make an educated guess and say that they were from the Cherokee tribe for the purposes of this story :)

Also when I tell you that this is a slow burn, I mean sloooooow, so buckle up for miscommunications and all the other fun stuff that comes from having an emotionally illiterate MC

Besides that, as per the usual, this is based on the fictional depictions of from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans! 💕🕊️

Toccoa, 1942

Finding someone like her was not something that Zenie expected when she imagined running away and joining up. Keeping her distance from the others, maintaining a few polite relations so that she didn’t stick out too much, doing well in her training, but not too well – that had been the plan. Becoming friends with an NCO and his close circle of friends had been a welcome surprise. And befriending Shifty is the kind of surprise that sends a little thrill through her chest. Which has never happened before, but she’s so shocked that she found someone like her – someone who gets it – that she starts to enjoy the way that the sight of him entering a room makes her heart speed up and the way that she can smile so easily around him.

For a plan that relied so much on acting, Zenie feels nothing but natural when she and Shifty spend time together. And considering that so much of her plan relied on lying, most of what she tells Shifty about her life is the truth.

No one has ever understood her in this way before. Not even Bobby, and especially not Beckie. Zenie tells him about her father, the stern son of Irish immigrants, and Mama, the beautiful Cherokee woman who gave Zenie her dark hair and eyes. Then there’s Matthew, who, even though he was adopted, was the best older brother she could have asked for, and Marilyn, the fashionable older sister. It’s nice to talk to someone who knows what her family is like. Comforting, even. Especially when their conversations turn towards the mountains and what it’s like to grow up in the hollows of Appalachia.

Someone finally feels the way that Zenie does about so many things. All those times that she spent feeling lonely in her room, feeling as if her own life were suffocating her, wondering if there was more to the world, and if there was a place where she belonged in it – they all feel like a distant memory now. Since arriving in Toccoa, she has never asked herself those same forlorn questions and has never felt that hollow ache in her chest. She doesn’t have to, because her questions have been answered.

There is a place where she feels like she belongs. There are people who understand her. There is more to life than working at the diner and cleaning the house.

But that life is for Thomas. Would it still be open to her if she had entered this new world as Zenie?

Time flies by with only occasional letters from Bobby to remind her of the life she left behind and the turning of the leaves to signal the change in season. Most of Toccoa’s days are marked with memories – funny things that Luz has said, runs where she beats Toye up Currahee on their runs.

Of course, Zenie has changed, just like the leaves. Mentally, yes, but physically too as she grows stronger, her muscles more toned, faster. She likes these changes. Aside from the extra weight on her chest, she feels like she has nothing to hide – if not for her carefully bound breasts, she would be free to show of her physique like her friends. And certain other changes have certainly come in handy; she finds herself thanking a God that she’s not sure she believes in when her menstrual cycle ceases due to the rigorous training and stress of life at Camp Toccoa.

The health sponges she managed to shove into her mattress to avoid detection during inspections become one less thing to worry about. Every other aspect of maintaining her identity still causes a fresh wave of panic to roll over her at a moment’s notice, though.

Routine, she thought when she first arrived at the camp, would be her savior. She manages to shower after everyone else. She finds excuses to visit the latrine at different times. She tries not to stiffen when her friends give her a slap on the back after running Currahee, hoping that they won’t feel the bandages beneath her PT clothes, and that they’ll attribute her labored breathing to her shorter legs making her work harder to keep up with them, instead of the fabric pinching her ribs suffocating her. In the mornings, she’s up bright and early to sneak off, bandage her chest, and change clothes before anyone can notice that anything is amiss.

Except people are noticing.

“You performance shy or somethin’?”

Zenie pauses, the door of the barracks half closed behind her, allowing a slat of early morning sunlight to cut through the long room, helping to wake the rest of Easy Company as they slide out of their bunks and begin their day. She clicks the door shut before turning to the man standing by one of the first bunks, staring at her with curious eyes that she could swear see right through her disguise.

“What?”

Joseph Liebgott only shrugs. Brown eyes flick up and down over her, like a light switch flipping. “You’re up before everyone else, and you never change in the barracks. Not sure I’ve ever seen you in the showers, but you’re always clean . . .”

Zenie lets out a half-hearted laugh, feeling like she’s choking on it as more men turn their attention to her. “Why are you lookin’ for me in the showers, Lieb?”

A few snorts from those nearby and a blush running across Liebgott’s face allow Zenie to escape relatively unscathed. Routine may be her downfall after all.

She tries to be careful – even more careful – after that. The only other time that someone gives her so much as a raised eyebrow or a questioning glance comes from Shifty, of all people.

It happens on a Saturday. He, Zenie, and Bill are sprawled between the beds and the small tables between them, abandoning their half-hearted game of cards to reminisce about their past lives and rant about Sobel – who’s the entire reason they’re even in the barracks instead of out on the town with everyone else. Damned weekend passes.

At some point in the conversation, they realize that they all have a real talent for languages. Bill knows Italian, and Shifty and Zenie both speak Cherokee. The languages of their ancestors start to pepper themselves into the conversation as they talk about home – that natural association between home as a place and language as the thing that makes it feel like home to begin with.

Bill is convinced that being able to speak to each other in combat without other people being able to understand them could be helpful at some point. Their own secret code. When it happens, he’s trying to teach them Italian, and they’re trying to teach him Cherokee.

He flips a card between his fingers. “Here’s a good one: Fratellino.” He gestures towards Zenie when he says it. When she raises her eyebrows and shakes her head, he taps the card against the table. “Little brother. Tu sei il mio fratellino.”

“You are my little brother,” she guesses. She should have been able to guess that one, based on how often Bill refers to her as the little brother of the group. One time after PT when they were roughhousing, she overheard Lieutenant Nixon tell Lieutenant Winters that he was going to start calling her Thomas Guarnere because of how close she stuck to her friend.

“You got a brother, don’t ya?” Bill tilts his head. “You don’t talk about home as much as the rest of us. Or as fondly, at least.”

She nods, a lump in her throat and words from one of Bobby’s letters flashing across her memory. Saw your parents yesterday. Your brother was home on leave – first time since you left. He seemed real worried about you.

“Yeah. Matthew.”

“How would you say that he’s your brother?”

“In Tsalagi or Italian?”

He shrugs. “Either one.”

“Matthew è mio fratello, for you. But I would say Matthew agido’i.”

It happens so quickly that she can’t even be sure it actually occurred. Later, she’s convinced that she imagined it, but she could swear that Shifty stiffens beside her, that his eyebrows furrow slightly as he throws her a confused glance. Before anything more can happen, Bill smiles at her.

“Matteo, in Italian, but you’re right! Geez Tommy, you’re good at this. Maybe we outta send you into intelligence with Lieutenant Nixon.”

Whatever reason for pause that she gave Shifty, Bill doesn’t seem to notice it. Shifty never brings it up, never casts her another curious look, so she doesn’t press the issue. And she tries not to question why her friend’s glance makes her feel like there are butterflies in her chest.

It all happens so unexpectedly that she thinks she now knows how Icarus felt the minute that the wax melted off his wings and he started to plummet back to Earth.

“You know, next time I see the dear ol’ Captain, I may just have to fall at his feet and thank him,” Luz chirps over the sounds of the crowded mess hall.

“That’s probably just what he wants,” Toye says. “Maybe he finally got the hint that nobody likes him. He’s just trying to get on our good sides.”

Luz pushes his garlic bread through the spaghetti sauce on his plate, his usual smile even brighter than usual. “Spaghetti and afternoon lectures indoors? I would say that it’s working, my friend.”

It’s clever, actually. Sobel can’t appeal to them sensitively like Lieutenant Winters can, so he’s decided to appeal to them through their appetites instead. After all, everyone knows that the fastest way to men’s hearts is through their stomachs.

Maybe the same can be said for Zenie. The sounds of silverware scraping against plates and laughter come together to form a symphony of camaraderie that elevates the spirits of the mess hall. She’s half focused on her spaghetti, and half focused on casually knocking against Toye every so often as they jokingly fight over a piece of extra garlic bread. Still, something holds her back from fully releasing herself to the good mood that everyone else is swept up in. In her world, benevolent acts from tyrants usually aren’t without some sort of price. Even if Sobel isn’t intentionally expecting them to pay some sort of price for today’s uncharacteristically kind gesture – which she seriously doubts – she wouldn’t be surprised if they all somehow unintentionally got food poisoning, just so the universe could balance out the score once more.

A forkful of noodles is halfway to her mouth when Guarnere jostles her from behind as he takes a seat at the next table, squeezing in beside Perconte as the other Italian comments on the quality of the food.

“Oh come on, Gonorrhea! As a fellow Italian, you should know that callin’ this crap spaghetti is a mortal sin!” Perconte insists above the din.

A few people down the bench from her, another paratrooper turns and makes a grab for Perconte’s plate. “If you don’t want it, I’ll have it.”

“No, no, no, I’m eatin’ here!” A sharp elbow to the ribs nudges the paratrooper back into his seat.

Bill jabs his own elbow at him. “Hey, get outta here!”

All the jostling is just enough to loosen Zenie’s grip on her garlic bread. Toye laughs as he takes it, shoving it into his mouth before she can protest. On both the old instinct of being the youngest sibling and her new instinct of reacting the way a boy would, she’s about to shove him and call him a dirty name, but the shrill scream of a whistle cuts her off.

Loud footsteps and long strides usher Captain Sobel into the mess hall. “Orders have changed! Get up!”

Silverware clatters and all the joking voices from a moment before fizzle out, like water dropped on hot cement – there one second, gone without a trace the next.

“Lectures are cancelled!” Captain Sobel bellows as he strides down the path between the tables. “Easy Company is running up Currahee!” Everyone collectively hangs their heads or grimaces, but no one dares make even so much as an audible sigh.  “Move! Move!”

The sudden orders leave no room for routines or careful planning. They leave her absolutely nowhere to hide. Her stomach has turned into an ocean caught in the middle of a hurricane – the kind of storm that takes people’s livelihoods and leaves no survivors. Never in all her time at Toccoa has Zenie felt genuine fear course through her veins. Not during combat training. Not during her interactions with the other men. Not the thought of jumping out of a plane. But there’s a first time for everything.

Captain Sobel’s cries of “Three miles up! Three miles down! Hi ho Silver!” feel like taunts aimed directly at her.

Luckily, Zenie is wearing her white PT shirt under her ODs. Everyone is in such a rush that she hopes the rest of the company will change and be out the door before her. She can always catch up to them as they head to the base of the mountain. But her friends are determined that no man should be left behind.

“Come on Tommy!” Guarnere urges as Zenie steps behind her bunk and faces the wall, trying to slide into her shorts as quickly as she can. People are rushing by her so quickly that no one seems to notice that her proportions are different than their own.

The next thing that she knows, she and her friends are packed together, elbows knocking into each other as they join the rest of the company. Usually there’s more space to run, but everyone seems determined to stick close together, not wanting to risk being left behind.

Despite how close they all are, Sobel somehow manages to squeeze in between them, throwing taunts and insults at them between the sounds of all the retching, wheezing, and puke splattering on the trail.

“You’re a washout Private Hoobler! Looks like Gordon’s gone! Aren’t you Gordon?” Zenie feels his presence over her shoulder just as a wave of nausea rolls over her, causing her to stumble slightly as her stomach jolts. Stars dance across her vision as the bandages pinch her ribs, never letting her lungs expand enough to get the air they so desperately crave. “Private Driver is too short to keep up on a good day, and look at him now! If you struggle this much in Georgia, how do you expect to keep up in Germany?”

Just like some of the other men, she could puke. If she times it correctly, maybe she could make sure it hits Sobel’s shoes. That would teach him a lesson.

A few men ahead of her, Luz’s voice rings out. “We fall upon the risers, we fall upon the grass!”

“We never land upon our feet, we always hit our ass!” The rest of the company joins in. It’s not like the good time crowd back in the mess hall only moments ago, but it’s amazing how one can feel the spirit of camaraderie unite them as they join in the song, pumping their arms and legs with renewed vigor as they scale the mountain.

Zenie chokes down bile and joins in as she pushes past Sobel. “Heidy deidy, Christ Almighty, who the hell are we?”

By some miracle, the song carries her the rest of the way up Currahee, and then another miracle brings her back down the mountain without losing her lunch or falling on her face – both things that she has to concentrate on harder than ever. Everyone is so exhausted by the time they reach the base of the mountain that no one notices Zenie as she stumbles off towards the latrine.

She doesn’t quite make it. Instead, her legs give out behind one of the bunk houses and she collapses there, balancing on her knees and one hand and she tries to loosen her bandages through her shirt. The wood of the building is surprisingly cool as she leans her forehead against it, hiding herself away from the rest of the world of men as she works through her own body betraying her.

A few times, late at night while staring at the ceiling, she finds herself worrying about being shot and the medics and nurses discovering her secret as they try to save her. She didn’t expect to find herself feeling like death while still in camp – and she definitely doesn’t expect the soft hand on her back that starts to rub soothing circles as she tries to catch her breath.

She recoils from the touch, but there’s no way that whoever has appeared behind her hasn’t noticed the bandages. There’s nothing she can do about that, except maybe try to explain it away when she manages to breathe without seeing entire constellations again. What’s one more lie at this point?

The person behind her continues rubbing circles on her back. “Here,” a soft voice says, gently pressing something familiar into one of her hands. “Will this help?”

Between her gasps and the churning sensation in her stomach, Zenie feels hot tears prick at her eyes as she accepts what he hands her without a fight.

That’s the moment that she knows she’s been found out: the minute she realizes that someone has just handed her a health sponge.

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

Damn. That's cute.

More than Words (Joe Toye x Reader)

A/n: listen no one requested this but I thought of this while I was at work and I had to write it. Also I’m sorry for the lack of content, and I’m sorry cos this is hella unedited. Anyway enjoy I love you all!

Tag list: @gottapenny @wexhappyxfew @bandofmarvels @medievalfangirl @starryrevelations @itisjustmethistime @etainlord @snafus-peckuh

It was the flutter y/n felt in her stomach, along with the quick beating of her gentle heart every time she saw Joe Toye. The way his dark brown eyes would search for her in a crowd, how soft his gaze would be whenever her e/c eyes would meet his own.

Y/n would often tell herself that love, at first sight, did not exist. She never believed in fate, but walking into Toccoca and seeing the tall, handsome man she couldn’t feel anything but butterflies in her stomach. And for the longest time, that little crush developed into more than a crush.

The little things Joe Toye would do that would quicken the pace of her beating heart. Joe Toye felt the same way about her, at first it was him teasing her. But sooner than later, Joe felt the butterflies in his belly every time he would see her.

The gestures started out slowly, a brush of their fingertips whenever they passed each other. It was as if the world stopped every single time their eyes met, and their fingers touched. Then slowly, when no one was looking, Joe would take her hand in his. It was almost as if their hands were meant for each other, his calloused hand interlaced with her own. It was as if it was all meant to be, and y/n hated to admit that.

The heart attacks both would go through, Joe would often say it was an adrenaline rush. The first sweet kiss they both shared in the empty pantry of the mess hall, his on either side of her face and her hands on his waist. It was as if their lips were meant for each other, sparks flying the instant their lips touched. Everything in the world stopped and it was just them standing in that pantry. Until someone standing at the entrance of the pantry cleared their throat, panicked both turned to see none other than Winters.

They both knew it wasn’t allowed, Joe would joke and say he did it for the thrill and adrenaline rush. But y/n knew that he loved her just as much as she loved him.

Their secret relationship went on until the first jump in Normandy. Both separated from each other, seeing dead soldiers on the paths scaring y/n. She prayed that her Joe Toye was alive and punching Nazis, but the hours were long and she was desperate to know where half of the company was. But most importantly she needed to know that the love of her life was alive.

And soon after, in strolled Richard Winters followed by Guarnere, Lipton, Malarkey and finally Joe Toye. If it weren’t for secrecy, she would’ve jumped into his arms and kiss him more than a thousand times. But instead, she sighed in relief, Buck watching the exchange of glances and sighs of relief between them. Until then, Buck Compton understood and knew something only Y/n Y/l/n, Joe Toye, Richard Winters and himself only knew.

*

The war continued on, with little to no time between them. It was back to when their relationship started, simple grazes of their fingertips when they walked past each other. Until Joe couldn’t hold it in any longer, snatching her from Guarnere and Lip and hiding behind a building in the dark. Y/n smirking, her stomach doing flips as the hand that grasped her wrist slowly made its way to interlace his fingers between hers.

With no time to breathe or even blink, he pulled her in for a kiss. His lips meeting hers, the salty taste of them on her own. A low moan leaving her, enough to drive him to slip his tongue into her mouth. The butterflies that she felt in her stomach only made the kiss feel like it had been eons since their lips connected.

Pulling apart, his chocolate eyes darted around her face. Her eyes still closed as the moment replayed in her mind over and over again. His hands on either side of her face, as he let out a shaky breath and whispered “I love you”

*

Carentan happened. Caught up in fighting the enemy, bullets flying from left and right. Running from one corner to another, following Muck and Malarkey y/n held her weapon and shot. Shooting to one side as she heard bullets fly behind her, in a split second it all slowed. Her mind buzzing as she lowered her weapon, hiding behind a pillar she took a deep breath and realized her arm was bleeding. Just below her chevrons, a bullet had managed to lodge itself into her flesh. The slight pain making her close her eyes and cursed at herself.

After finding out that a ricochet had hit the love of his life, Joe Toye managed to drop everything and run towards the aid station. Seeing others wounded, medics tending to said wounded. He stood at the doorway and scanned the room for his girl. His eyes landing on a tired y/n, as she talked to Eugene who wrapped her arm with a bandage. Joe walked towards her, y/n only sighed as he walked closer. A tired smile on her face as she scooted off the bed, standing up to meet the equally tired man.

“You know, you’re going to make me lose my mind y/l/n.” His voice low and raspy, nothing but adoration and concern in his eyes. Y/n smirked and shook her head.

“Thought you already did, Toye.” The smirk only made Joe chuckle and shake his own head slowly. Y/n turned around and grabbed her OD and then back to Joe who was staring at her. Love and adoration written all over his face, something that y/n was glad she made him feel. “You’re staring...” she sang as they walked out of the air station.

“You know what,” he said more to himself than anything, grabbing her hand and pulling her to a secluded area. And area where it was just them two, alone. Y/n chuckled and followed in tow as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m about to do something that proves that it’s your fault that I’m losing my goddamn mind.” He pointed towards her, y/n furrowed her brows as she put on her jacket being ever so careful with her wound.

“Baby, it’s not just my fault.” She joked, Joe looked away from her and brought his hand to cover his mouth. Slowly pacing, y/n growing concerned when he didn’t speak. “Joe?”

“I love you more than anything in this world.” He blurted out, y/n’s breath hitched as the words replayed in her mind over and over again. Heart beating slightly faster as his eyes locked with hers. “I’m not the brightest, but I know for damn sure there are not enough words to express how much I truly love you.” He sighed as he stepped towards her, y/n blinking rapidly as her eyes glassed over, tears threatening to spill.

“Joe-“ he shook his head, reaching her hand as he leaned down to press a kiss on her forehead. Resting his own on hers, a shaky breath leaving his mouth as he closed his eyes.

“The only way I can think of letting you know- Y/n, marry me.” He whispered the last part, y/n swallowed hard and smiled widely.

“Of course,” she chuckled, a tear escaping and slowly falling down her cheek. “When we get home, it’s the first thing we-“

“No, I don’t want to wait until we get back.” He shook his head and pulled his forehead away from hers. Y/n furrowed her brows and thought of all those times she planned the ideal wedding with the perfect man. The perfect man was standing right in front of her, he was everything and more. “Here” he spoke after a few seconds, y/n chuckled and opened her mouth to speak.

“Here, you want to marry me here?” She asked, Joe gave the shocked woman a firm nod before reaching for her hand again. His thumb brushing over her ring finger.

“I’ll marry you anywhere, but I want to do it now.” Y/n smiled and shook her head in disbelief. Leaning on just enough to peck his lips. “You want to do it in the trees or beside the bush?” A smile on his lips as he playfully asked, shaking her head once again she brought her other hand and rubbed her face.

“Fine, let’s get married. Here and now! C’mon, it’s just you and me” she spoke as she interlaced her fingers with his, a content sight leaving Joe’s mouth as he walked closer towards her.

“What happens at weddings?” He asked, y/n not knowing if he was serious or not. A soft giggle leaving her lips before realizing she didn’t know either. “Seriously, what do we do?”

“We promise to each other.” She simply spoke as his gaze soften, “on this day, June 11, 1944 at-“ she glanced down at her wrist to look at her watch “at 17:21. I, y/n y/l/n, promise to love you more than anything. I promise to cherish you, hold you, love you in sickness and in health. To remind you of my love, to never leave you alone, to always make you smile. I promise to always be there, through thick and thin.” The words making joe tear up, a small smile on her face as she finished.

Clearing his throat he chuckled and swallowed hard, “I promise to remind you every day that I love you. And that I will love you for eternities to come, in sickness and in health. Until we grow old together with kids and grandkids. I promise you that you will be my one and only.” Y/n felt the tears escaping and rolling down her cheeks. Stepping forward she closed the gap between him and her, her lips pressing against his. The kiss was soft as she breathed in deeply. Heart thudding soft against her chest as she thought of the moment over and over again.

Pulling away Joe chuckled and rested his forehead against hers, “I owe you a wedding ring, Mrs. Toye.” He whispered, y/n closed her eyes and hummed in response.

“Mrs. Toye, I like the sound of that.”

[brassknucklespeirs]

Scary Dog Privilege [Joe Toye x reader]

This is taking me longer than i intended so here's my apology, have another snippet

『-』 Neither of them were given a moment to continue this exchange of simmering annoyance as a new bout of whistles filled the air causing Y/N to whine in distress, curling into herself to grasp at any comfort she could. She looked up from under her brows towards the sky as the first explosion went off, but immediately flinched in discomfort, turning her body away and pushing herself as close to the side of the foxhole as she could. When the not-so-solid soil wall seemed to wrap its arms around her tightly in a moment of shared unease, Y/N realised she had, in fact, unconsciously turned away from the wall of the foxhole, not towards it, and found herself pressed firmly against the warm body of Joseph Toye. The man's arms remained steadfast around her waist as the chaos outside the foxhole continued, his own fear slipping through with every 'bang' that was heard. The ground shook violently as a shell hit close by and Y/N let out a strangled scream of terror. Her hands unravelling from themselves to grasp at Joe's jacket, tugging herself closer to him while she tried her best to focus on the warmth that radiated from him, or the way his fingers could be felt rubbing back and forth over her spine. Even if he was a particularly cold man towards her, it had not been the first time she had used him as a distraction, though this was much more than just admiring him from afar. There was a certain intimacy in being held as if she was the only thing that could bring reassurance to the soldier beside her, a type of intimacy she had gladly welcomed at that moment as she too tightened her grip on his shirt, even going as far to hide her face in the fabric covering his shoulder.

A heavy silence hung over the air when the shelling stopped, the only noise being the creaking of nearby trees, half destroyed from the blasts and desperately clinging to hold their form. Y/N stayed leaning against Joe, his warmth offering comfort as her body grew tired as the adrenaline had leaked faster from her than it had the last time. Her wound began to burn hotter than last time, and a pained whine left her lips as she lifted her hand, pulling her face from the man's jacket to watch as crimson blood trickled down the palm it had begun to stain.

"Shit. MEDIC!" Joe screamed out as he glanced down at the woman as she lay groaning against his side, her hands coloured with scarlet liquid while her face was screwed up in a look of discomfort. "Uh, how many fingers am I holding up?" He asks, his voice a mixture of worry and uncertainty, his hand showing three fingers. Y/N seemed to pause her groaning for a moment, her head tilting up to look at him, her face showing disbelief at the words. Her gaze flickered between his face and his fingers, too confused to answer immediately as she took in the dead-serious look of concern on his features.

"I'm not dying you fucking moron. It's a shallow gash, not a mortal wound." She replies with a quiet snort from her nose in amusement. Sure, the sliced flesh burned but it was certainly nothing to write home about, and she was more than prepared to never think about it again once she had been seen to by a medic. Until that point, she would ensure she'd made it clear to Joe that she deserved a little bit of appreciation for drawing blood for him, even if it was her own. The man rolled his eyes at her answer, pushing his fingers closer to her face while his brows tugged together in silent frustration.

"Just answer the fucking question Y/L/N." He said firmly. With a huff of irritation, Y/N gave her answer before using the hand that wasn't pressed tightly against the wound on her hip to flick his own hand away from her face.

"Thank the lord above they didn't make you a goddamn medic." She muttered under her breath quietly, though the roll of his eyes told her he had heard the words leave her mouth. 『-』

[to be continued...]

[rogue-durin-16]

ROGUE-DURIN-16'S BAND OF BROTHERS MASTERLIST

Key: f=fluff || a=angst || f-a=fluff+angst || ≈f=mostly fluff || ≈a=mostly angst || os=oneshot || hc=headcanons ||mp=multipart || ?=request || db=drabble/blurb

Mutuals as BoB characters (x)

• DONALD MALARKEY

Back to the front line (≈a|os|?)

Request could request a malarkey x reader where the reader got shot in Bastogne and they meet again in Haguenau? w/ a happy ending and teasin from the boys?

Smile for me [Part I] [Part II] [Part III] (f-a|mp)

Summary: a young promising war photographer is sent to document the Airborne's first missions on french soil, where she inevitably meets Easy Company, and Don Malarkey becomes immediately smitten by her. Lucky him, France wouldn't be the only place in which their paths would cross.

• GEORGE LUZ

'Bout damn time (f|os|?)

Request: Could you write some George Luz fluff where he and the company's female medic have had crushes on each other since Toccoa and their feelings come out while watching Trigger for Talbert while in Holland (set around the Crossroads episode)?

It's just me (f|os)

Summary: Y/n Y/I/n has been playing the matchmaker role for the Easy Company boys since Camp Mackall. Curious about how she is so good at it, George Luz questions his friend about a few things, which leads to one dangerous question; who does the matchmaker fancy?

Stranded (f-alos|?)

Request: may I request a stuck together overnight fic with Luz??

See you around (a|os)

Summary: for most of Easy Company, war took away more than it gave. Pieces of them stayed buried six feet under in foreign land while they were forced to carry on with their lives. George Luz and Y/n Y/I/n, who took time for granted, were no strangers to this tragic fate.

Lucky Luz (a|os|?)

Summary: Bastogne took a serious toll on Easy Company. At the loss of so many friends, George Luz started to tamper with his luck a bit too much for a certain medic's liking.

• JOSEPH LIEBGOTT

You got me, I got you (a|os)

Summary; the European conflict seems to be coming to an end when Easy Company stumbles upon the true horrors of it. This terrible discovery shakes Liebgott to his core, forcing him to be pulled back by Y/n. Having some time alone with each other, their friendship appears to be reaching its culmination.

Handle the situation (a|os|?)

Request: Can I request an angsty lieb x reader fic in which the reader pushes alley away from the potato masher at crossroads and it hits her instead and like joe is literally dying inside cuz they had been fighting prior to that?

Poison in your coffee (f|os|?)

Request: got a request for you, Liebgott x reader with the prompt "+If I were your wife, I'd put poison in your tea/-If I were your husband, I'd drink it"?? Not too angsty.

The bridesmaid problem (≈f|os)

Summary: Y/n and Joe's friendship, much like the war, came to an abrupt end in Berchtesgaden. Years later, in their close friend's wedding, fate provides them a second chance to mend what they broke off.

• WILLIAM GUARNERE

Deserve better (f-a|os|?)

Request: Can request angst to fluff fic with bill guarnere x reader, where maybe they see each other after the war, when she comes to Philadelphia to see him but he's like, 'you should find someone better than me' y'know?

• MULTI PAIRINGS

Sniper s/o (f|hc|?)

The boys reacting to their significant other being a great shot and having a high kill count. (Luz, Liebgott, Malarkey, Shifty)

Artsy!reader & Easy Co. (f|hc|?)

The boys reacting to the reader sketching them. (Toye, Luz, Bull, Shifty)

Women in suits (f|hc|?)

The boys admiring women wearing suits. (Malarkey, Hoobler, Luz, Shifty, Bull)

[applsauss]

Lightning Bugs in July | II

GUNNER AND BUG

Description: You were christened ‘Bug’ by Beth and ‘Gunner’ by your pals. Those are the names that define you.

Fandom: Band of Brothers


Pairing: 
Joseph Toye/Reader

Word Count: 
5.9k+

Warning(s): Derogatory Language. Nothing you wouldn’t see in the show.

“What did they call you?” 

      “What did they call you?”

Em’s question was so innocent.

      You were called ‘Bug’ once, when you’d run barefoot through the grass, catching lightning bugs with your bare hands in the sleepy twilight.

Beth was younger, then. So were you. She would call after you from the porch: “Buggy! Come in. It’s getting late!”

You existed in a world without war for so long, why can’t you exist there once more? Why is it so hard to stand back on that beach and live in it the way it was, the way you once were? 

There were lightning bugs, then, over the Potomac. They flashed like they wanted to remind you of everything good still left in the world.

“Were you a good machine gunner?”

      They called you ‘Gunner’ once. You used to take pride in that name, then you learned to accept it for what it was: A fact, something that’s definition just meant you, something that was yours.

They would call after you, in a firefight, in the quiet often that followed one:

“Gunner!”

Wars seem never-ending when you’re in the middle of one.

      You are shaking in a foxhole. Dirt falls over your head and shoulders the farther you press your back into the wall behind you, and your machine gun is steaming above you. These are unimportant details. Mostly, you are staring at your bloody hands. 

Something drips down the side of your face like a shiver. Your chest rises and falls quickly -- so quickly -- you can't control it. Mostly, though, you are staring at the wet blood sticking between your fingers. 

"Gunner!"

Where did all this blood come from? You look down at your arm and find that the red is soaking through your uniform as well. Is it yours? Panic flares, cold like dread in your chest, and you can't catch your breath, but you're breathing so quickly -- how can it feel like you're drowning? Is it the blood?

"Gunner!"

There is a loud ringing in your ears, like gnats swarming your head. Are you dying?

"Gunner!"

Someone slides into your foxhole. You suck in a sharp, rattling breath and scramble for your bayonet, but the straps of your webbing are tangled and you can't yank it free. Then a hand settles over yours -- kind in that it is unyielding -- and you realize it's just Joe Toye who's crouched beside you. "Oh, Gunny," he rasps as he sinks to his knees, the edges of him stark against the sky. 

"Joe?'

You can barely make out his face in the broad daylight; your vision blurs and drops off to static around the edges. You try and force more words up and from your chest, but your jumbled mind won't let any thoughts stick. Slowly, Joe wraps his arms around you and brings you to his chest.

"Are you hurt?"

The question confuses you. You don't have an immediate answer. You turn your face into Joe's chest, nose pressed to his jacket, and beneath all the shellfire and hellfire, the air around Joe Toye tastes like Lucky strikes on your tongue. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Where’s Lieb?”

"I don't know." You find yourself struggling to hold down the urge to cry. You wrestle with it on the floor of your mind, bat at its hands and squeeze its neck. Joe cradles your head and begins rocking back and forth. 

"It's alright. You're alright. You're looking fine, Gunner--"

"Oh, dear God--"

Someone else is at the lip of the foxhole, the familiar shadow of a friend cast over you. 

"Go get the doc."

You barely recognize Eugene Roe when he slips down the wall of your foxhole. He has the pallid face of an angel, his halo, the red cross on his helmet. 

Joe's voice rumbles in his chest like a beloved wave of thunder. "You're gonna be fine, huh, Gunner?"

"Huh, Gunner?

      "Huh, Gunner?"

            "Huh, Gunner?" 

Does he know what your name means to you?

You were called 'Bug' once, when you ran barefoot through the grass chasing lightning bugs.

You never liked your first name because it was given to you by your mother, who didn’t, and still doesn’t, know you. You were christened ‘Bug’ by Beth and ‘Gunner’ by your pals. Those are the names that define you.

      When you close your eyes, you urge yourself to remember that beach, that twilight, that last moment of peace you stole before you waded deeper and let the current of war sweep you under, tear you away from whatever simpler life you might have lead if you'd never joined up and shipped off, shot and been shot, dug into the earth and understood intimately the way it shivers during an artillery barrage.

This is one thing you know for certain: Your name belongs to you the same as it is you, who you are.

What did they call you? 

Gunner. Because it's what you call a machine gunner. A good one.

      Joe sets your helmet on your head; You forgot when you took it off in the first place. A hand appears in front of your face; Skip Muck is staring down at you grimly as he hoists you up and over the edge of the foxhole. 

The sun in France is soft like velvet, and with the eclipsing of spring comes a fresh summer breeze. The air rushes over your skin, caressing your face like a lover might, and the sun kisses the apples of both your cheeks, speckled through the leaves. These are unimportant details. 

Mostly you cannot tear your eyes from the field of German bodies that comes into view as soon as you clamber out of the foxhole. There are twenty, maybe thirty of them -- a whole platoon draped like dolls over each other, shredded from high-caliber rounds. It is a mass grave.

Blood soaks into the dirt. The grass it drips from sways in the summer breeze without care. Blood drains from your face, leaving behind cold dread, and you smear it on your pants when you try and wipe it from your hands. 

Some memories make it past the filter of your mind. It was enfilade fire, which is a technical term meant to obscure the horror a gunner witnesses when it happens. The Krauts had been lined up so neatly, eager to catch the rest of the company off-guard to the point of deadly carelessness.

You remember feeling mostly confusion when the first couple soldiers in your sights fell, only to reveal the others stacked up behind them, pierced by the same spray of bullets. Hubs, your ammunition bearer, had shouted something along the lines of 'get those fucking Krauts, Gunny!" before loading up another belt for you to bury more dead with. You don’t remember why Liebgott wasn’t there to do it instead.

That confusion you felt -- your mind unable to process the carnage -- gave way to urgency when you were reminded of your buddies, just over the hill, their backs turned and wanting for a bullet while they take care of the line. “Don’t let anyone past,” Lip had told you and Hubs before shuffling off. “We’re all countin’ on you.”

The Kraut platoon leader managed to get his men together a bit, and they stopped mid-charge to fire back upon your position. Vaguely, you remember an explosion, a squelch, a shout, being thrown against the wall, then jumping right back on your gun. And now you're left in the silence of a firefight. The air tastes heavy with blood. 

"Gunner," Joe Toye rasps. 

You shake your head and fumble with your breast pocket for a pack of gum. You set a stick of it between your teeth, bite down, and let the spearmint burn a hole through your tongue. 

It feels deserved.

“Gunner.” 

That’s your name. It’s what you are. A machine gunner. 

Instruments of war are carefully, purposely, deadly. A well utilized machine gun can change the tide of an entire battle -- that lesson was drilled into you the moment they picked you out for a machine gunner, the moment you were christened in Toccoa by Joe Liebgott and O. Petty.  

You are a machine gunner. 

You attempt for a moment to hang onto that urgency you felt when Lip gave you your orders to justify the death in front of you. You’ve never seen so many bodies before. In certain spots, the Germans are two, three deep, dead and dying on top of each other. One of them wails. The sound pierces you faster than any bullet. The sound is stuck in your ears. It is there, always,whenever it is quiet.

Your mouth tastes like blood and spearmint. You hate that flavor. You squeeze your eyes shut, but no memory comes.

"Were you a good machine gunner?" 

Yes. You were.

      An hour later, the rest of Easy Company bustles around you. You are sitting next to your machine gun while Smokey cleans it, occasionally spitting the chewing tobacco from his mouth onto the grass.

"Joe," you ask quietly, staring down at your bandaged hands while they shake. Joe Toye grunts, and you meet his eyes then, feeling brittle and empty. "Where's Hubs?" 

It isn’t until the next day you find out you’re wearing what’s left of him. Liebgott tells you this shamefully, wringing the straps of his musette bag and unable to look you in the eyes. You both feel the loss immensely.

      But wars end eventually, and in October, the Virginia heat touches down once daily, in the early afternoon. Tommy sits down on the wood pile beside you and pulls out his lunch box, same as yours. You tilt your head back and enjoy the brittle heat of the day wrapping itself around you like a quilt. You let your eyes slip shut and it almost feels like just yesterday you were standing out on the gravel bank in your wrinkled uniform, throwing your medals into the Potomac, instead of three months ago. Your fingers twitch, and your thoughts are flooded with the taste of spearmint.

"Hey," Tommy grunts beside you. 

You peak an eye open to find him holding out a saltwater taffy for you to take. His pockets are always full of them. You don't remember exactly when he picked the habit up, but it's been this way since you were kids. 

You accept the small offering, unwrap it, then pop it in your mouth. "Thanks," you mutter, and he nods.

The afternoon is quiet. The sweat you worked up installing drywall is freezing on your back, but the toes of your boots are sweltering in the dry sun. You find yourself lingering for longer and longer in moments like these. It began in France, when Easy Company would eventually break in a relatively quiet town after going through hell. 

You were always a bit greedy with food and personal property, everybody with siblings is, but you were never as greedy with anything else than a peaceful moment after your boots touched French soil for the very first time. Some days, it was as if your entire mind, body and soul wanted for nothing more than to lounge out in the sun and play a game of cards. You held on to those moments with a greed so intense that at times, it felt like nobody but General Taylor himself could order you away.

There are some things you need to learn to let go of, though. 

“Where’s Ma?” you ask after a prolonged lapse in conversation. The question has been on your mind for some time now. Your mother's a tramp, but she usually shows her mousy face every couple weeks around the house, begging for table scraps, sometimes demanding them.

Tommy shrugs. “Hasn't been back nearly as much since you left. Last I heard -- you know how Beth is with her -- she went off to New Orleans or somewhere with a gentleman suitor. Hasn’t been back since March.” 

You shake your head. “‘Course that’s where she went." You remember her waxing poetic about Mardi Gras and all of its sexual freedoms. You run a hand through your hair and wish quietly for the way Lieb would cut it. The conversation feels awkward and stilted when it shouldn't, because Tommy is your brother and you’ve known him since you were two and he was zero days old. 

The air tastes uncomfortable, and humor is the only weapon you have to mask the flavor. "Anything else happen while I was gone?” you ask, half-joking.

Tommy shakes his head, the attempt at humor landing between his feet, a dud shell. “Not much has changed. You know Norma’s graduating this year, says she wants to be a movie star” -- you laugh good-naturedly at this -- “She’s got a plan and everythin’. L. A,” Tommy continues with a snort. 

You open your mouth to respond but a quick shout interrupts you.

“Hey, Bug!” A couple of the other workers at the job site are approaching you. You smile curtly and nod your head. Tommy is silent while they poke and prod at you, try and get you to tell them a couple war stories. 

“So tell us what it was like.”

“Did you shoot anyone?” 

“You must be either brave or stupid to have volunteered to jump out of a perfectly good aeroplane.” 

These are all things you've heard before, a part of the same, re-used script every man who didn't enlist carries in his back pocket.

“Hey, next time you’re down at Old Towne’s your drinks are on me, alright, hero?” That one's new, and something you're having difficulty getting used to. No one in town thinks much of your family, your mother's broke and half of you are abominations on your fathers' side, but a war hero is a war hero, you suppose. At least that's the case for you. 

You say what you have to to get them to move on as quickly as possible. You don’t want to talk about any of it, you don't want to think about any of it -- you want to scrub Europe from your mind until it's the blurry memory of a night terror you only have early in the mornings, before you're fully awake. 

“Alex is back in town.” Tommy says when the crowd of workers finally moves on.

You frown. “Since when?” 

“Since Christmas. ‘Was all torn up when we broke the news that you’d gone, said that you were real brave and real foolish, waxed poetic about how you were worth the wait.” 

You can't help the bitter laugh punched from your chest. “The wait?” 

Tommy shakes his head in sympathy. “Norma chased her off before I could, and I had to hold Pat back from trying to maul her in town a couple times.”

You laugh and drop the conversation. Alex Lanchester is a jar of worms you don't want to reopen. She left you for a suit and the Big Apple two weeks before you finally confessed to enlisting. 

It’s stupid to get caught up in someone like that, so you don’t. You just close your eyes and think of those lightning bugs on the Potomac and when Tommy lights up a cigarette, you keep your eyes closed and pretend they’re not Lucky Strikes.

      In the winter there is ice along the Potomac. The gravel's crunch underfoot is sharper and the flow of the river is slowed to a crawl. This is an unusually cold year. The snow began in late November and hasn't stopped since. 

You are standing at the edge of the water, where the ice is thick and uneven, and you watch the opposite bank for paranoid movement. You wander back to this beach often. It's changed, eerie like a mirror image of a place you once loved, but it is quiet and often empty.

You kick at the ice, watching it crumble beneath your feet, then your stomach lets you know it's growing impatient for lunch. You stare out across the Potomac for a moment longer, then turn on your heel and begin marching home. 

You pass familiar landmarks as you go, all of them covered by a blanket of slushing, gray snow. There are boulders you'd played king of the hill on as a child, overgrown trails leading up to the manor sitting empty atop the hill, and the crooked oak Tommy once leapt out of, only to break his leg in two places. A faint smile pulls at the corners of your mouth when you remember how he blubbered while you dragged him home. He's taller now, and broad like an ox; he doesn’t often cry anymore.

You pause suddenly at a large willow draped over the river and the road. Its branches droop low, and are frozen to the shoreline. You almost don't recognize your own initials carved into it, next to an A.L. lovingly, painstakingly inscribed beside them. 

You remember when you'd taken a knife to this tree, in your senior year of high school. There's no greater taste than love in your mouth, and Alex taught you that, kissed and kissed you and promised her life to you. You'd been convinced that the world would fold up in front of you like a red carpet, that you would never want to wash out the flavor of caramel popcorn and a promise for the future like starshine from your mouth. 

You press your fingers to the damaged bark, trying to glean some sort of emotion from it, then pull your hand away as if burned. It's stupid to get caught up in a person like that, so you don't. You pull out a pack of Lucky Strikes you'd nicked off Tommy, and set a cigarette between your lips. 

The taste is strong, stronger than anything you'd ever had before. It makes your eyes water, but you keep it unlit and resting against your tongue as you walk home, ignoring the way your heart throbs until you're once again staring up at your three-bedroom house, at the end of the shitty road, wondering what in the hell you're supposed to do with yourself now that you're no longer 'Gunner', but instead 'Bug' once more, like you used to be.

You don't feel much like 'Buggy' these days. 

You just feel tired.

      You're sitting in your bed facing the window. The radiator under it is rattling, and the heat rolling off the coils warms the front of your body. Out the window, Virginia is naked and pale under the early morning sun, and you watch as the gray forest shivers in the breeze. The chill drives you to a razor’s edge and pulls memories you'd long since drowned to the surface of a river edged with ice.

You see faces just under the surface of those dark waters, staring up at you. You blink the image away, then see half-buried foxholes from the Ardennes out your window, waiting in the treeline at the edge of the yard. 

You see yourself huddled in one of them, behind your machine gun, and Joe Toye sitting next to you, griping about his feet and smoking like a chimney. His face, his hands, his voice were rough. You wanted to die wrapped up in the blanket of his stumbled, awful vocabulary. Everything about him was warm to the touch, sometimes like spring sunshine, sometimes like the lick of fire up the side of a pan. 

But winter leaves a bad taste in your mouth, like the bite of iron in blood. You can't stand the flavor anymore, and with it comes this itching under your skin; discomfort, rage.

You turn away and pull open the top drawer of your bedside table, intent on finding the pack of Lucky Strikes you stole from Tommy. There is a stack of letters held together with a rubber band, some faded photographs full of blurry faces, taken in Europe, and those cigarettes. 

The taste of blood in your mouth is unbearable. It tastes the same as a field of German bodies. You lick your teeth, stare at the pack, then decide you deserve the flavor. You shove the cigarettes back into the drawer so they're hiding under a photo of Second Platoon, then look back outside. It's begun to feather snow. 

Winter and the holiday season are in full swing, now -- The kids are home on Christmas break, playing in the snow and bothering Beth at all hours of the day, and the world outside your home is quiet and cold. It leaves a bad taste in your mouth, like the bite of iron in blood. You can't think of anything there is to celebrate anymore, and the fact that people are celebrating at all is enough to make undeserved anger well up in your chest.

There is a pounding of feet up the old stairs that stops abruptly at the door behind you. 

"Beth says breakfast is ready."

You look over your shoulder to find Em hanging from the doorway, poking her head into the bedroom. Her clothes are a clash of yellows and warm blues, and she flashes her teeth when she grins at you.

"Thanks, Sweet Em."

Her eyes light up at the name, then she bounds across the room and drapes herself over your back. You grunt when she squeezes you, her sharp chin poking into your shoulder, then laugh, and grab her arms where they're clasped in front of your throat so you can stand up with her. 

"Noo!" she squeals and wraps her legs around your waist, but she lets you carry her all the way down to the table, where you let her off at her favorite chair, then take Lip's seat next hers. "Got any plans for this lovely winter break, Em?"

Em shrugs her shoulders and begins to eat her oats. “Dog and Tommy said they’d go sledding with us! Did you want to come, too?”

Your mind fills with images of foxholes and forgotten faces and your smile falters for a moment, but you work to ignore the dread sinking into your chest. You're interrupted by a shout.

“Hey, Bug! Did you really cut your hair like this? And who’re your buddies?” Ulysses comes thundering down the steps holding a picture over his head. You immediately know the one, it was taken the day before D-Day when you’d all been kitted out. Joe Toye was in it, so was Smokey and Liebgott.

Panic like anger blooms in your chest. He shouldn't be going through your things. You fix Ulysses with a look. "Give it back."

"Why?" He shrinks back, holding the picture to his chest. "It's just a picture." 

He shouldn't be going through your things. Your eyes burn. You're beyond words. You leap up and try to snatch it, but Ulysses backs up the stairs, holding it behind his back. The fact that he's holding that piece of you, waving it around, unsettles something in your chest. Beth shouts something, but you don't hear her. 

"Give it back, Ulysses!"

He can play with your uniform all he wants, take your loot out and parade it around his friends like he was the one to steal it, but that picture is personal. It's the last thing you have left of your buddies. You grab Ulysses by the belt and tug him towards you to try and snatch the picture from him, but he squirms in your hold. "Hey! Stop it! That hurts!"

"Then give it back!" you shout, increasingly desperate and mad, tugging until Ulysses falls back onto the stairs, shouting at you. Then Jim-boy appears at the top of the stairs, and descends then faster than you can react. He snatches the picture out of Ulysses' hands, gives him a withering look, then holds it out for you to take. 

The silence that follows a firefight is unbearable. You remember that they used to call you 'Gunner'.

You feel four pairs of eyes on you. Ulysses is rubbing his elbow where he knocked it on the stairs. You look down at the picture. 

It's of Second Platoon, the same one you'd thought it was. Joe Toye and Liebgott are on either side of you, smiling. You have both your hands on your ammunition bearer, Hubs', shoulders, leaning over him and you're grinning widely, your mohawk cut fresh on your head. 

Guarnere is towards the back, caught shouting something over his shoulder. Smokey, Rogers, and McClung are next to each other, arms over each other's shoulders. Malarkey and Buck are arm-in-arm with big, cheesy grins. Petty's there too, and Ramirez. Popeye, Muck, Penkala. There is paint on your faces. Half of you are dead. 

Your hand shakes the more you stare at it, anger and frustration rising in you until you're choked by it. "Fuck!" Half of you are dead. You feel as if you died with them. Maybe you wish you had. 

You drop the photo on the floor and stalk out the back door, not bothering with shoes even though the ground is covered in snow. The dog barks happily, but you ignore him and the slap of the screen door as you head straight towards the gnarled apple tree, knowing you can sit behind it in peace. Your feet burn in the snow, but it's nothing you're not used to. 

From the house you hear Beth’s low voice scolding Ulysses, but it’s not his fault. You’ve changed.

      The days that follow are rough. Winter's maw opens up and deepens; swallows you whole. It snows heavily through the rest of the week. You spend the meat of your days working, and the lean margins down at the Potomac, staring at the river ice and the faces just beneath the surface.

Now it is well past sunset, and it is cold. The white of the snow and clouds reflect the distant city lights, creating an eerie, lilac, never-ending twilight that surrounds you, holds its breath and watches your every move. 

Bastogne never had any color; it was just gray. In Virginia, the winter is steeped in purples and pinks when night falls, and during the day it is powder fresh and bluebird soft. 

You're sitting on a frozen log, throwing rocks at the river ice when you hear the sharp crunch of gravel behind you. You jump violently at the sound but don’t turn to see who it is even when your instincts scream for you to. A part of you wants to wait and see if they'll give up without acknowledgement, dreading any interaction, and another part doesn't care anymore.

"It's been a while." After a prolonged silence, a familiar voice rings out in the silence of winter. It is singular and friendly. Alex dusts the snow off a bit of log next to you, and smooths her skirt as she takes a seat beside you.

You continue to stare across the river, ignoring the faces in favor of searching for Krauts now. You're not quite sure why, but you're not surprised she's here. 

Beside you, Alex digs the toe of her boot into the snow covered gravel, then asks, "how long have you been back in town?"

Your mouth is dry. "Since August,” you say reluctantly.

She sighs. "You never came to see me." 

Her tone rubs against you like a cat asking for its chin to be scratched, then tests its claws in your chest. You remind yourself to be mad-- "Yeah, well, you left me first--" But you're not. You're not upset with her. Maybe you were, in the beginning, but you're not anymore. You don't think you could be even if you tried. You're so far removed from that heartbreak, it seems insignificant after everything you've done and seen. 

"Can't say I blame you for being angry," Alex says frankly.

You roll your stiff shoulders and heave a sigh. You're past giving a damn. You bounce another rock off the river ice, then rub your chapped hands together. It might just be the way the light bounces off the snow, but sometimes you can still feel, see, smell the blood on them. You can still taste it. They are red. You work your jaw around a phantom piece of spearmint gum, then wish for the bitter taste of Lucky Strikes.

“What happened?” Alex asks. 

You stare hard at the ground. "I went to war." 

"No," she laughs humorlessly, then gestures to your hands. "What happened?"

You follow her gaze down to your hand, and it takes you a moment to realize she's not talking about the blood, but your scars. They are raised, irregular and uncomfortable. You stare at your skin for a moment, then hide your hands between your knees. "Burned myself with the barrel of my machine gun." Your nails cut your palm as you first your hands, and your mouth runs before you can catch it. "Had no choice but to bare-hand it. Doc patched me up afterward, said I was lucky that it wasn't as bad as it could've been."

She is quiet, then remarks, “Sounds painful.” 

You are not yourself. You feel a sudden urge to correct her. "It didn't hurt till the morning -- I didn't even notice it to begin with."

There is more, just waiting on the tip of your tongue to be spilled. You haven't so much as breathed a word of the war in the months you've been home, so why is the urge to speak so uncontrollable now?

"It happened the same day my first assistant gunner died right beside me, a direct hit with a bazooka round, had his guts sprayed all over me and everything, and I didn't know till the morning. Joe had to pull me outta the foxhole, all covered in gore and that's when this--" you hold up your arm-- "happened, or a little afterwards, you know, when we finally got into the town we'd been trying to liberate. Fucking Nazis."

You look up to find Alex watching you with pity. You turn to watch the river instead. There is movement in the dark forest across the way. You squeeze your knees and shake your head. There aren't any Krauts anymore. 

“Never mind.” “It must have been hell over there.” 

"It wasn't." 

"What?" she asks. 

"It was," you amend. You realize that you don't know how long you've been sitting out here in the cold. It must be well past dinner. You pat your knees and make to stand with a huff. “Well, I gotta go. Beth won’t like it if I’m out after dark for too long. She barely lets me outta her sight anyways.” 

“I missed you, you know," Alex says suddenly, voice wobbly.

You glance over at her, then back across the river at the Krauts and Bitterness returns. “I’m sure you did. Everyone misses the war hero.”

“No,” she says, “I mean I missed you. You. Breaking it off with you was the biggest mistake I ever made.” 

You close your eyes, and even though you're standing in the exact spot you once had, before you'd gone off to war, a toy soldier, you can't picture this beach the way it had once been. But you remember Joe Toye, when he'd held you in that foxhole in France, rocked you, whispered right in your ear that you'd be okay. 

"You know--" you start to say, then are forced to stop when your voice shakes with emotion you didn't know you felt. You swallow thickly, and blink your wet eyes. "You know, burning my hand or even losing Hubs wasn't the worst part of that day."

Alex looks up, but you stare at your hands. There is blood on them, and now you're sure it's not just the lilac sky. "It was knowing I killed those Germans. A whole platoon. I mowed down a whole platoon of Krauts with just a single gun -- and they were just kids, you know, like Hubs -- Like Dog. Just like him! 

"I got a medal for it, they fucking congratulated me, said I was real brave. Crazy thing to tell a murderer, ain't it?"

There is a brief silence, then Alex sighs. 

"Merry Christmas," she says sardonically, and it confuses you for a moment until you realize that today is Christmas. December twenty-fifth. What an arbitrary date. You remember how she used to be so adamant you celebrate it with her. 

"Merry Christmas," you breathe, hollow. You feel her eyes on you for a moment, then she directs her gaze back out over the Potomac, and you wonder if she's looking for Krauts too, the way Joe would. 

You wish for a flare. You wish for Tommy's Lucky Strikes to burn your tongue on. You try and fight the tears, but you're just so goddamn tired. You're more Gunner than you ever were Bug now, and Gunner is so goddamn tired. Why is that?

Your weak knees force you to take a seat on the log once more, and you drop your head into your hands, aware of Alex and how she is watching you, pitying you. Joe would never look at you like that.

You heave a quiet, shaky sob at that thought. How are you ever supposed to be Bug again? Since you were Gunner when you leapt to your death in Normandy? Since you were Gunner when you killed in cold blood for your buddies? Since you were Gunner when Joe Toye would hold you and make you forget about everything but him and his goddamn lightning bug eyes? Since you were Gunner when you heard the crack of a bat, then the news that the war would be over, for good this time.

You try and stifle the way you cry into your hands, but you can't. It is like the rain in Virginia: Absolute. A firestorm. You can't control the way your body shakes with each rattling, frozen breath. Your vision blurs to nothing and you dig the heels of your palms so hard into your eyes you see spots.

You barely realize what's happening when Alex wraps an arm around your back and leans into you, holding you tight to her chest. She's warm, and not as solid as Joe, but she is a startlingly welcome comfort nonetheless. As long as she stays quiet, you can even pretend that It's Joe Toye holding you instead, in Bastogne, whispering to himself and singing that stupid Billie Holiday song he was so obsessed with. 

But you didn't love Joe Toye. He tasted like Lucky Strikes and hellfire and the twilight lit up by flares, drifting like lightning bugs in the sky. His river was not the same as your river from memory but it's all you can seem to think about these days. That night in France, when you'd been so close to something, but afraid to grasp it. Why can't you forget that night, like the rest of the war?

This makes you cry harder.

You didn't love  Joe Toye, but you loved Alex a lifetime ago. Before all of this, you'd been in love, carved your initials next to hers in a tree and promised each other the rest of your long lives. 

This is one thing you know for certain: Joe Toye did not taste like love, but Alex tasted like starshine and caramel popcorn and first dates and first loves and hurt and broken promises and it turns your stomach the way your fifth candy apple does but you want it anyways. 

You fucking want it anyways.

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[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

Nice.

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​

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[luminouslywriting]

Hi, how are you? I hope you're feeling well. I really like everything you write about the band of brothers. I was wondering if you could write a headcanon about "what would the boys be like as friends or best friends?", the reader being a company doctor. I hope you can do it and if you can't, don't worry, no problem. Thank you!!!🫶

Darling, platonic BFF friendships are literally the thing that makes my brain the happiest!! I could go on and on and on about this for EVER! Hopefully it will live up to the hype I have about it in my head lol. If you want me to expand on anyone's or do a more in-depth post, let me know!

Cut for length, more under the cut, obnoxious amounts of found family present:

Dick Winters:

-Listen, this man is prime best friend material. We all see how he is when he's with Lew and how he treats him. He's so loyal and devoted and respectful.

-The fact that you're a medic/doctor automatically means he appreciates you more—and if you can figure out how to make this man relax or rest, bonus points haha.

-Respects your limits and boundaries but wants what's best for you—so he's paying attention to if you're overworked or discouraged and trying to counteract those things the best that he can

-Gives the most comforting brotherly hugs??

-Also the best person to go to if you need to vent or just need some good advice; he is a great listener and doesn't automatically try to fix your problems as much as he does offer support and sympathy

-Always has your back and consistently just wants you to be happy. He definitely vets anyone that you date ever haha.

Lewis Nixon:

-Chaotic best friend energy is strong with this one. He's a chaotic mess of a person but is so ride or die for you it's not even funny.

-Being able to finish each other's sentences because of predictability and the way that he knows you so well

-Is always down to share a drink with you if he notices you're having a hard time or going through something emotional. But he doesn't ever let you get tipsy or drunk. You're his sobriety link tbh.

-The type of friend where you call each other teasing names to get each other's attention. Hypothetically, he might be referred to as the wife in your mind lol.

-Has money and is not afraid to splurge to get you stuff that he deems necessary because "at least one person in this friendship needs that and it's not me."

-If he knows you're overworked, he's kidnapping you for naps and he's a cuddler (like a damn cat or something haha)

Ronald Speirs:

-It's the mutual respect that he has for you and admiration—this man is a great friend and would take any number of risks to ensure your safety

-You're his safe space and so he loves being able to talk with you about anything and everything—but especially about what the two of you are feeling. This probably stems from you just not being scared of him in any way haha.

-Is also the type of friend who goes klepto for you?? Like he's in his little thief moments and just like, my bestie would like this, and then proceeds to steal said thing for you

-Takes the time to check in with you as often as he can and makes sure that you're resting—is lowkey a mother hen when you need him to be haha

-Is the type of friend where you never need to actually say what you're thinking, the both of you can just share a look and know exactly what movie quote you're both thinking of, what Lipton needs to calm down, or how best the situation will go.

-Also is super supportive and a hype-man for whatever you want to do with your life. He just wants you to thrive and fulfill your potential.

Buck Compton:

-OLDER BROTHER VIBES OKAY?? This is the type of person who likes to take people under his wing and he absolutely becomes fond of you because of how much you take care of other people.

-That being said, he's also the aggressive type of friend that's just like, "Oh??? You're overworked? Nap time then. Like right now."

-Loves swapping stories with you and talking about college. Also wants you to go to college though—preferably the same college so that the two of you can be friends there too.

-Gives really comforting hugs and is great at expressing gratitude and affirming that you're doing a good job

-Probably loves going out and playing darts or any number of games with you, especially if you're competitive

-Also down to watch any number of movies that you claim to be good and offers his own opinion lol

Carwood Lipton:

-An actual nervous mother hen that is consistently making sure you have enough supplies, that emotions are doing okay, and that you're getting the rest that you need

-Is the type of person who would give you his coat or jacket off of his back because "I told you it was cold, take my sweater." type of vibes haha.

-Wants to hear about your family back home and about your hopes for the future—is super positive about you making it home.

-Also talks to you about pretty much anything, including his girlfriend back home and wants you to approve of her haha

-Would absolutely make you share a foxhole with him because he can keep a closer eye on bestie that way

-He's just a giver??? So he's constantly sharing food or blankets or whatever it is that he thinks you might need. Top tier best friend tbh.

Joseph Liebgott:

-Chaos gremlin personified—this is the type of friend who's going to drag you into all sorts of trouble and also get you out of said trouble with ease

-He's a very touchy best friend and so hugs and cuddles are just to be expected

-Would throw hands if someone disrespected you because you're the only person he truly respects lol....and this also applies to you. The type of friend who aggressively tells you that he loves you and you need to be nicer to yourself.

-He's out here not wanting you to fall in love because, "I remember the day I saw you in that hospital bed—"

"You weren't there!"

"And I knew then that no one would ever be good enough for Y/N."

-You are the only person who can touch his chocolate stash and keep your life

-Also just wants you to come back to Cali with him and adopt you into his family

Donald Malarkey:

-A sweet friend who is great at emotional support. That being said, give him some support as well.

-Probably loves swapping jokes and telling stories with you—spreads stories about how amazing you are as well

-Wants you to come to Oregon and have a camping trip with his family because you're like family to him

-Also fiercely protective of you and consistently worrying about if something will happen to you if you're on the line or even when you're not.

-Runs all of his life plans by you because he wants your approval for sure

-Is super happy that he has you in his life because you're a great listener and you just understand him

Eguene Roe:

-THE ICONIC OF ALL ICONIC FRIENDSHIPS....listen, this friendship is so soulmate platonic, it's not even funny. He practically worships the ground that you walk on and respects the hell out of you.

-Definitely has a whole list of nicknames for you in French and has tried teaching you some of the language

-Tells you old Southern stories to try and keep your mind off of work at night time and he loves hearing any stories that you can come up with

-The both of you can call each other out on burnout or if you're overworked or stressed out. It's a great mutual way that you take care of each other.

-He prays for you all of the time and wrote home about you because you're his best friend

-The two of you work so well together that it sometimes throws everyone else off because you don't even need to talk when you're working together.

Bill Guarnere:

-Ride or die icon who is so vocal about adoring you that it probably annoys everyone else. And if you're not from Philly, he's about to become very patriotic about wherever you're from

-The type of friend who wants to hear about everything you're looking for in a partner so he can start vetting people ASAP

-Would share pretty much anything with you—coat, shoes, food, blankets, etc.

-Checks in on you frequently and definitely views you as the patron saint of easy company

-Wants to travel with you around the world after all of this is over

-Promises you a proper meal and a place to stay if you ever want to come and visit

Joe Toye:

-It's giving the quiet friend who always has your back and would throw hands for you, if given the chance.

-That being said, fiercely overprotective and gets annoyed if you get put in any danger or if anything happens to you.

-Also kind of a huffy friend where he's just like, "I told you that you needed a break. This is the worst." And then proceeds to take care of you anyway.

-Finds ways to make things fun for you no matter what's going on in the war and just wants you to smile

-Also gives really great hugs and loves physical contact and affection

-His family has definitely heard all about you lol

George Luz:

-You must truly understand his humor on another level because he thinks that YOU are the funniest person that he knows. Even if it's not true, he simply finds you to be the best.

-Would proudly brag about you to all of the other companies

-Appreciates hugs and cuddles, especially after Bastogne

-Is the type of friend who would hide a body for you, no questions asked lol—so he's definitely your alibi whenever you've gotten up to some mischief

-Has verbally eviscerated someone who was talking shit about you because he's just not having it

-Lowkey would move in with you after the war because you're his safe person

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 4- The Catch

Summary: Carentan was a harsh bloody battle. As you and Doc are tending to multiple wounded men, you eventually run into Liebgott while he’s comforting a severely wounded fellow soldier he was partnered with. After the Americans claimed the town, eventually the boys of Easy were pleasantly surprised when they had an evening at a pub when you arrived polished up like a lady with a song in your heart.

A/N: Mature audience, Joe LiebgottxFem!Medic, post D-Day, She/Her Pronouns, Y/F/N, Y/L/N, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Womanizing Comments, Confrontation, Military Terminology, 1940’s slang, Inappropriate Nicknames, Band of Brothers References, Mentions of Weaponry, Descriptive Wounds/Injuries, Death, Blood/Gore, Smoking, Banter, Pining, Consensual Physical Contact/PDA, FOREVER FLUFF 💚

Chapter takes place Episode 1x4 Replacements

Song selection for this piece:

Good Night, My Love by Ella Fitzgerald

{Provided below at the end of the chapter}

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~ 

As you come up on Carentan, you’re met with heavy fire from German snipers hiding inside some of the buildings. Most of you take cover in the ditches on either side of the road but are just made easy targets for the Germans since everyone was still out in the open. 

Winters shouted at the troops to move forward to get cover and started to physically lift each soldier he passed to get them moving. 

“Get yourselves out of those trenches!”  

After finally making entry into the town, American soldiers scatter to wherever they can to get cover from all of the gunfire coming from every direction. 

You and Doc on separate ends of the streets trying to keep low to tend to the wounded. 

“MEDIC!!” 

You race to two soldiers landing on your knees next to them, one on the ground with a trail of blood coming from his helmet, the other crouching over him. 

“He’s still breathing, help me carry him!” You call out. You each grab an arm of the injured soldier and drag him behind a building. 

While you’re working on the nameless soldier’s head wound, a drug store gets blasted by German artillery not far from where you were, the force from the explosion sending you sideways into the brick wall next to you. 

Your ears intensely ringing, it’s all you can hear for a moment until you hear Liebgott’s voice. 

“TIPPER! TIP! Answer me, Tip!” Joe calls out to his partner, Ed Tipper who sadly had been in the building when the blast occurred.  

You shake your head vigorously in an attempt open your ears and regain your composure. When you finally snap out of it, you look up to see Tipper stumbling out of the destroyed storefront of the pharmacy, the left side of his face completely torn up from shrapnel, and his right thigh blown wide open, the artery clearly lacerated and bleeding out.  

Liebgott running, stops dead in his tracks when he sees Tipper. 

“Joe?? Is that you??” Tipper calls out trembling. 

Liebgott stunned by Tipper’s bloody appearance, slowly approached him carefully setting down is rifle. 

“Lookin’ good, Tip.” Joe says reassuringly placing his rifle on the ground, “-lookin’ real good.” 

Liebgott gently took Tipper by the arm, leading him out of the building. 

“Come here, buddy, you gotta sit down. Come here...Come on...” He slowly helped Tipper to the ground, “Easy, easy...There you go...there you go.”  

Liebgott crouched next to Tipper and gently guided his head to rest in the crook of his neck.  

Tipper’s breath became ragged and labored. As he started coughing up blood, Joe surveyed the rest of the damage on him. He discovers the right thigh wound, bleeding out and pulsating where the artery was hit, then the right foot exposed through the boot also drenched in red. 

“Ah Jesus...” Liebgott whispered to himself stroking Tipper’s hair. “You hang in there, buddy. Okay, we're gonna get you fixed up. All right...okay. Guys, you wanna give me a hand here? Come on.”  

He started to lift Tipper as you approached. Before the other two soldiers could help Liebgott pick him up, you push through them grabbing Tipper’s right arm to bring it across the back of your shoulders and assist carrying him to safety. 

“Over here, Lieb.” You direct.  

You both rest Tipper against the wall as you grab a large dressing from your med bag, putting it directly over his thigh to apply pressure. You knew it would be to no avail since the artery needed to be held closed to keep the blood in and he’s lost so much blood already. Without plasma, you couldn’t do much. 

“Tip, I’m right here.” You comfort him, putting your face in his line of sight so he can see you. 

Liebgott staring stood up slowly, waiting for you to work your healing magic, but you already knew Tipper’s fate was sealed. You look up apologetically at Joe and shake your head.  

~~~~~~~ 

After the dust finally settled, the town was now under American control. The time in Carentan was short lived, as orders came through for Easy to attack East towards the low ground. Easy went from the Western part of Carentan towards the South, near the village of Douville. You all are confronted with a major German resistance upon your arrival. The Germans launched a strong counter- attack with tanks and armored vehicles. Fortunately, Sherman tank reinforcements arrived, breaking the German lines of contact and shortly abandoned the hill. 

A few days later, after a failed reconnaissance mission, Easy was removed from the front lines and sent back to Sainte-Mère-du-Monte to recover from the combat you all had endured. To Easy’s misfortune, Lipton announces you all are to return to combat in September. New orders state Easy is to drop into Holland to liberate the people from German tyranny. 

But when Easy approaches Eindhoven, the locals commemorate your arrival with celebration in the streets with banners waving and cheers of appreciation. Women of the village kiss each soldier on the cheeks and mouths as they pass, while the men hug or shake their hands showing their gratitude. 

It was chaotic. Everywhere you looked, people were dancing and shouting in the streets while music blared from a band off to the side. You were once again separated from Joe.  

You hear Lipton yelling, “Keep moving!!” He repeated over and over amongst the crowd as he ushered the guys up the street.  

This was an unusual change of pace for Easy Company. Instead of being met with gunshots and explosions, you’re welcomed with warm smiles and affection from the locals. Some of the guys took advantage of the situation getting in some extra kisses from the local women.  

You wondered if Liebgott was kissing any of these women. Afterall, they seemed to be wearing some of their best dresses with make-up and here you were, having looked like a hag for nearly four months since you dropped on D-Day. Why wouldn’t he get his kisses in while he had the chance to get one from a lady looking like she had at least been bathing consistently? 

This thought discouraged you. You hadn’t done yourself up since Toccoa. You release a sigh of frustration and continue pushing through the crowd. 

~~~~~~~ 

That evening, Easy got together with some of the new Easy replacements in attendance at what seemed to be a barn made into an improvised pub. There was a dartboard on the wall, and multiple tables and chairs set up. A simple radio playing some popular tunes sat on the bar. 

“Hey, Lieb, where’s Y/L/N?” Perconte asked. 

Liebgott shrugged. “Last I heard she went to one of the local women’s houses to get cleaned up.” 

“Betchya we won’t even recognize her.” Guarnere joked. 

The guys all laughed collectively. Malarkey pushed through the crowd trying to get everyone’s attention. 

“Hey, guys! Get a look at the bird that just came in!” Malarkey pointed towards the entrance with a wide eager smile. 

Everyone redirected their attention to the front of the room. Most of the men of Easy caught sight of an almost familiar woman wearing the standard female Army dress uniform complete with skirt, simple heels, and clean white medic brassard displaying the Red Cross around the left bicep. Hair clean and perfumed pulled back into a neat fashionable bun and a face with fresh make-up and painted lips. You almost had the entire room at a complete standstill when you walked in. 

Liebgott’s jaw dropped, (as did everyone’s). 

“Who the hell is that?” Talbert asked. 

“Floyd, you’re an idiot.” Guarnere asserted. 

“It’s our little lady medic, boys.” Randleman pointed out affectionately. 

Excited murmurs and whispers filtered across the room. 

You start to make your way to Easy in the back. Of course, you’re approached by several other members from other companies there, but you kindly decline their advances so you can get to your own. 

“Hey, fellas.” You greet as you near the group of Easy soldiers. 

They all inaudibly respond with their own forms of welcome, then all fall silent leaving a heavy blanket of tension in the air between you and them. You look around suspiciously wondering why none of them were making eye contact with you or speaking. Some looked like they were even holding their breath. 

“What’s wrong with you guys? It just Y/L/N! Quit acting like you never seen a woman before.” Nixon said addressing the men. 

“Yeah, but that’s just it, sir, it’s Y/L/N...dolled up. She don’t normally look like this.” Guarnere explained. 

Nixon laughed. “Then it would be gentlemanly of one of you to offer her a seat while I get her a drink. What will you have Y/L/N?” He called out to you. 

“Thank you, sir, any beer will be just fine.” You replied with a relieved smile. 

“You clean up nice, L/N!” Malarkey commended as he pulled you in for a one-armed hug. 

“Thanks, Don.” You respond as your cheeks heat up.  

The rest of the guys agree simultaneously, each voicing over the other how great you looked. 

You laugh nervously, “Gee, guys, thanks.” Was all you could say. 

You weren’t used to this kind of attention from the boys. As the awkwardness lifted and everyone started to resume socializing, your eyes eventually met Liebgott’s.  

You each smile at eachother. 

“Here you go, L/N.” Nixon handed you a bottle with a wink. 

“Thanks, sir. Cheers!” You raise your beer clinking it against his highball glass of Vat 69 whiskey on the rocks. 

You finally go to stand with Liebgott.  

When you reached him, he gently pulled you in by your waist and leaned in to whisper in your ear. 

“You’re a knockout, sweetheart.” He professed with that Joe Liebgott smirk.  

You felt his warm breath dance along your neck, making your spine shiver and the butterflies rise in your stomach. 

Your breath caught in your chest, and you smiled shyly at him. 

“Lookin’ dapper yourself, Joe.” You reply as you readjust his tie. 

Your little moment was interrupted abruptly by Guarnere. 

“Hey Joe, if you ain’t gonna have a dance with her, how ‘bout letting one of us take her once around the room?” He teased. 

An upoar of laughter erupted from the group. 

Joe looked at you and raised his eyebrows, “How about it, doll?” He asked. 

“Oh, I don’t think I can dance in these shoes, Joe. I tripped twice outside on the way over here.” You admitted. 

Joe chuckled then Luz came up to you. 

“Hey Y/F/N! Bull here says you got some pipes on ya? Can you sing us a little something?” He bid. 

You direct a look of betrayal towards Randleman. 

“You said you wouldn’t tell anyone, Bull.” You reminded him sharply. 

“It would be a crime and shame to keep that voice a secret, lady.” Randleman declared. 

Laughter fills the air. 

“So, whaddya say? One song? For us?” Luz begged again. 

You look around at all the eager faces of the men in Easy Company, and you smile. 

“How about some Ella Fitzgerald?” You suggest. 

The men cheered and ushered you over to the upright piano against the wall by the bar.  

“Hey, we can’t see her!” One soldier shouted from the back. 

“Give her something to stand on!” Another one called out. 

Toye placed a chair next to the piano as Liebgott offered his hand to help you up. 

When you came into view of the audience, all the men applauded, directing whistles and howls of admiration. 

You grimace playfully shaking your head mouthing, “Knock it off!” as you wave them down. 

A soldier from the crowd sat at the piano. 

“You know, Goodnight, My Love?” You ask him.  

The soldier nodded and began playing the selection from memory. 

You serenade with all your heart and soul, immediately capturing the room. As you sing, you look from one awestruck face to another, making sure to smile as any good entertainer would do in the movies. You felt like a starlet. 

The whole room leaning in listening intensively, some ogling at you from the tables, your eyes connect with Joe’s who’s standing along the front. He grins as he watches you admirably and you can’t help but return a smile.  

At that moment on the last line of the song, you lost your balance. 

🎶Sleep tight, my love, goodnight, my love 

Remember that you’re my sweetheart--🎶

“GASP!”

All the air suddenly left your lungs as you feel your feet leaving the surface of the chair. It all seemed to happen in slow motion as Joe swiftly swooped in catching you bridal style before you can hit the floor. The room in unison choked with concern. 

The world went still while Joe was holding you. Your faces so close, your cheeks reddened and once again your breath stuck in your throat somewhere. 

 “Nice grab, Liebgott!” You hear Guarnere shout. The room laughed and applauded as Joe turned still carrying you, smiling mischievously from ear to ear. 

“What a finale!” Compton called out. 

“No more booze for her!” Luz teased. More laughter. 

Liebgott set you on your feet. 

“You good?” He asked. You nod.

“Thanks to you.” You beamed. You leaned in and kissed his cheek to show your gratitude for the rescue. 

You heard some of the guys mockingly whistle at you and Liebgott for this little show of affection. 

His astonishment had left his mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide making you giggle. He leered playfully at you. 

“You missed, sweetheart.” He eluded as he tapped his lips with his finger winking at you. 

You raised an eyebrow at him skeptically. With your fore and middle fingers together, you press them to your red lips, kiss the pads, then place them onto Joe’s waiting lips which he gladly kissed. A devilish grin stretched across his face. 

“Maybe next time we can have that dance?” He suggested. 

“Sure, Joe. At least I know I can depend on you to catch me if I fall again.” You proclaim with a wink and a coy smile. 

“I’ll always be there to save you, sweetheart.”  

~~~~~~~

For your hearing pleasure,

Good Night, My Love by Ella Fitzgerald

{Provided by YouTube}

Chapter 5 👇🏼

[we-always-hit-our-ass]

Dance Freely, Love (Joe Toye x Reader)

a/n- another one of my random ideas, thanks @radiantcade​ for motivating me to do this, what would i do without you??

once again, im procrastinating on the long fanfic by writing shorter ones. oops

Description- You wake up to see a note that your long-time boyfriend has left for you on a drawer. After reading it, it’s contents leave you heartbroken. Time passes by and word gets by of your boyfriend in the hospital. You decide to visit him. Tears and fufilled promises ensue.

Words- 4.9k (i was intending for it to be short but... i got carried away??)

Warnings- angst, angst, angst, but there’s fluff tho 

Angst with happy ending, love those-

btw listen to these songs while reading this:

The End of the Word- https://youtu.be/xHa6a3FtPJg

It’s Been a Long, Long Time- https://youtu.be/iP0tHmoc1rs

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

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

The sun beams peek through the gap of your white curtains, shielding your (E/C) from their brightness. That was what you found strange. 

Usually Joe would wake up earlier than you and he’d open the curtains right after he woke up and got up from your comfy bed. So when you’d open your eyes, the light would just be as gleaming and bright as Joe’s smile. 

Maybe finally he listened to you and decided to give your eyes a rest. You groggily stretched your body, the blankets falling off your shoulders dropping slowly towards your lap. 

Stiff arms raise up and a content groan leaves your lips as you stretch them out. Those tired arms then reach up to rub at your eyes and you feel a yawn creeping by.

You then make your way off the bed, slightly disappointed by the loss of warmth those covers provided you with. After your eyesight was clear, you hobbled your way around the room while putting on your slippers.

You walked up to a small table with a record player, something you and Joe were lucky to have. You pulled out a disc and set the record player up. Soon enough, you and Joe’s favorite music to slow dance to plays. 

It soothed your muscles and you could almost fall asleep again if you tried hard enough. You bopped your head up and down and hummed softly to the melody. There was a slight bounce in your step as the song kept playing and a tiny grin was on your face.

After a few moments of swaying along to the music you noticed the absence of the handsome, dark-haired man you called your boyfriend.

“Joe…”

Your tired, breathy voice rang throughout your shared bedroom, but no voice rang back.

You assumed it might’ve been one of those rare days where Joe went the extra mile to make breakfast. 

But once again, there was no waft of food or smoke reaching your nose.

“...Joe…?” 

The question was asked louder, but no response. The tweeting of the birds felt deafening in the quiet house, and the soothing voice of your lover wasn’t heard at all. You still stood at the foot of your bed, slightly dazed and confused as to where Joe was.

You opened the door to your bedroom and quickly made your way throughout the house to look for him. You fail to see the crisp, white note laying quietly on your dresser and waiting to be read. 

The faint thumping your footsteps echoed throughout the house, and he was nowhere to be found. 

You even went as far to go to the attic(which you absolutely hated going into ever since Joe said that it was haunted). You rushed through each room, opening the door roughly before slamming it back shut once you saw that he wasn’t there.

You sped along, your speed rivaling that of light’s. You even caught yourself lifting up one of the cushions of the sofa.

When you returned to the room you were a panting mess, and you were sure that you checked every inch of the house at least 7 times while calling out his name and telling him to cut the joke.

Your search was futile and you walked groggily up the wooden stairs so you can lie down on your bed. (S/C) hands gingerly turn the doorknob and you amble your way slowly to the comfy bed. 

You heave a sigh as you plop yourself into the mattress, your head nestled between the pillows and the still-tousled blanket. Your head turns and your eyes land on the piece of paper resting flat against the wooden surface of the dresser.

You were suddenly alert and your body shot up in the blink of an eye. You swear that you hadn’t seen this note before. For someone who apparently checked the house from top-to-bottom, you were sure pretty blind.

You put your legs up on the bed, and you leaned over to reach the mysterious note. You leaned back and scooted up until your back was flush against the fluffy pillows. 

The folded paper was opened to reveal the familiar and neat handwriting of your love. Your eyes lit up in recognition. Your eyes skimmed over the word-filled page before actually deciding to read it the ink.

“Dear (Y/N),

I hope you read this letter with a clear mind and heart, for I am truly sorry for doing this to you. (Y/N), I am so sorry for leaving you like this.

 I planned to tell you the night before, but I couldn’t bring myself to break the news after seeing you so happy last night. I couldn’t do that to myself, and especially you. 

Before you can say that I should have told you, please try to understand that this way is the best way. It’s the best option and I think it would also be the one that hurt you the less.

 (Y/N), please know that I have good intentions and that I really don’t mean to bring you harm in any way, shape, or form.

Your tear-stained face would’ve broken me and I am slightly glad that I would not be there to see your reaction. I couldn’t live with that. 

(Y/N), I promise you only a few things:

1. I will return to you, no matter how injured I am.

2. When I do return, the first thing I will do is to scoop you up into my arms.

3. I will give you the best kisses that you’ve ever dreamed of.

4. I will make the best goddamn dinner that has ever existed.

5. We will dance, and dance to that record we always play until the night slowly fades into day, and I promise you, that I still wouldn’t be stopping.

6. I will always, and forever love you.

(Y/N), please know that this would've happened someday, and that again, this is the best option for both of us. After this war, I SWEAR, that I will do everything I put on that list of promises. 

You have my word and heart, (Y/N). I love you. I love you very much…  Please let me see your face when I return.

Love,

Your ever loving boyfriend, Joe”

Streams of salty tears were unknowingly rushing out of your eyes like mini waterfalls. You only started to feel them when you slowly brought your fingers to your face. 

The wet sensation against your fingertips brought you back to reality, and you only started sobbing louder. You talked to him about it, of course, but you just thought…You just thought that maybe, just maybe, he would’ve given you a head’s up.

Of course you knew he was going to fight the war, but not like this. This would be the last thing you expected. Sobs, whimpers, and whispers of his name fell out of your lips. The trembling never stopping.

You quickly put your lip between your teeth to stop any more sounds from coming out, but the action was futile. Your fists clenched the now flimsy piece of paper, crumpling the edges and almost ripping the sides of the papers off.

The sounds of your tears plopping against the paper didn’t bring you back from your tear-filled stupor. The whimpering didn’t stop and you looked down to your lap to read the paper once again, just to make sure that you weren’t, in fact, dreaming.

Your red and already swollen (E/C) eyes glance down at the paper only to see that your tears have smudged and already washed some of the words. The once legible words were  reduced to only a small puddle of black ink. 

The tears in your eyes stopped for a brief moment before they started streaming down your red cheeks and down your throat. A small, wet stain formed at top of your blouse, the never-ending river of your woe soaking it more and more.

You were still as you could be, only light tremors shook your body as you sniffed and whimpered some more. Your throat ached, your mouth was parched, and your eyes lost tears to cry a long time ago.

The aching of your legs made your whole lower body feel numb and you soon felt how sore your face felt. Your fingers begged to be unfurled, the joints already crying out in mercy, but you couldn’t care less. 

Crescent moon shapes were indented against the soft skin of your palm, but you didn’t pay them any mind. Hiccups now filled the air, but you were still glued to that very same spot you had ages ago. 

Your tired body slowly leaned forward until your forehead and wet cheeks touched the cold sheets of your bed.  Soft whimpers were muffled and your hand clutched and pulled the once neat and pristine piece of paper towards your chest. 

Wet ink was transferred onto your blouse, and the damp fabric stuck to your feverish skin without a hitch. Everything hurt. Eyes, nose, throat, back, fingers, thighs, toes, and your heart. 

Oh, especially your heart. It felt like it’s been cut, torn, and smashed into oblivion. Like it was whipped and the wounds had salt poured on them. Then it was burned, chewed up, and run over by 4 dozen cars. Then the whole process repeated again and again.

The pain was agonizing, and you would do anything to make it stop for even just a second. That was all you could focus on. You still didn’t get it. 

Nothing made sense to you at the moment and you had the overwhelming urge to destroy everything around you. To rip that damned piece of paper that brought you this pain in the first place. 

As anger and many more emotions coursed through you, you stopped to look at the piece of paper for the tenth time this hour. Your hardened glare turned into a loving look after your (E/C) eyes looked at the words ‘I love you’.

Tears threatened to burst through your sensitive eyes but your ability to produce tears ran out forever ago. So instead, you raised your fist to pound it against the mattress. 

You tried to let out a scream but no sound came out. The dull sound consumed your head and you stopped shortly. You felt so vulnerable. So utterly helpless without him.

You never even got to say goodbye. To kiss him lovingly, to hug him with all your strength, and to say infinite declarations of love. If you'd known that last night was the final night that you would see him, you would’ve never have let him go and never stopped saying your adoration in his ear.

If you missed him this much already, how were you to act without him for years? How were you to react if he never came back? You forcefully diverted yourself from thinking that, you would be better if you don’t think of that.

Just when you thought you can now fully function, scenes of Joe bleeding out from a shot or shrapnel wound prevented you from doing so. Your parted lips stretched to a frown and you gripped your head between your hands, your fingers digging themselves deep into your scalp.

What have you done to deserve this? Why was this happening to you?

Why you? 

Why Joe?

Painful questions mixed with past memories of happy times between you and Joe swirled around in your head. You thought that focusing on the joyful memories you had together but that made things worse, for they reminded you of the things you will surely miss.

Exhaustion and fatigue glide over you and you start to realize the ache of every muscle in your body. For now, all you desired was to close you red and swollen (E/C) and to float away to dreamland.

You didn’t care if it was only the afternoon, the day’s previous events left you spent and wanting to rest.You prayed that you didn’t have any dreams of him, your fragile heart couldn’t take anymore. It had enough in just a few hours.

Your sore and weak body raised itself up from it’s bent position, some of your backbones cracking at the action. You released a shaky sigh as your back hit the mattress, your throbbing head feeling only just a tiny bit relaxed as it hit the cloud-like pillows. 

The lingering scent of his shampoo and soap on the pillow covers and blankets hugged you tightly, almost suffocating you. It was overwhelming, but you decided to relish one of the few things he actually left behind.

The bedroom blurred around you, black spots appearing in your vision as your eyelids drooped down.You curled up into a fetal position, face almost buried in the pillows. Your nose was clogged and almost silent sniffles were all you could offer.

The faint sound of the record player lulling you to sleep by the second as you let it play its tune.

You clutched the letter in your hand towards your chest like earlier. You were holding on to it like your life depended on it(your life didn’t but your heart sure did).

Before blacking out you wished that maybe this dream would provide temporary comfort, that maybe you’d forget about Joe and his leave. Perhaps, you might get it all of your head in just one sleep. But you knew it didn’t work like that.

Nothing did.

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

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

You really didn’t know how you continued to live your life without Joe by your side. How you missed his jokes, gentle touch, tender kisses, and bone-crushing yet loving hugs throughout the day.

Sometimes you could still hear his voice calling out so sweetly to you. The way your name rolled so right on his tongue. It really drove you wild. On other days, you would open your mouth to respond to him but the reality falls down on you like a pile of bricks. You would hurriedly shut your mouth and a deep frown etches itself on your face.

It’s been years since he left for the army without a word. The only thing he left for you was that letter. The now crumpled piece of paper containing Joe’s words was placed on top of the dresser, where it previously was. 

Even though you couldn’t read the words anymore, you cherished and hated it all at the same time. The day after you cried and sobbed your heart out, you decided to send him letters.

Letters saying how you felt, how life was without him, and letters pleading for him to come back to you. Each letter had bucketfuls of your love and care put into them.

You’d even go as far as to buy the now rare chocolate candies. You saved every penny just to buy a piece. Then you’d carefully wrap them in small squares of parchment paper and taping the ends to make a little make-shift present.

You’d carefully press the paper and tuck it carefully into the envelope, sealing it when you were done.Then your eyes would well up as you held it in your shaking, (S/C) hands. 

Tender kisses were pressed into every surface of the envelope before you’d send it away. You never really got anything back though.  Hours were spent looking outside your window or going out to check your mailbox.

There was nothing, but you never gave up.

So you kept sending him letters, assuring yourself that he’ll reply to at least one of them. You grew tired of waiting, but you were ever so hopeful, thinking that this would be the day he’d respond.

Or maybe the next, or the day after that. Perhaps maybe a week after that one. Wishful thinking never got you anywhere, but it sure helped you in your broken state. 

The clanging sound of the metal mailbox outside your home shutting grew redundant. But you still waited for something. Your cheerful smiles faded by the day and you were again reminded of how he just left you.

It even got to the point where even your neighbors started noticing and taking notice of your melancholy behavior. It has been weeks since you sent out your most recent letter and, once again, no response or word of your boyfriend.

You were completely left in the dark as to how he was doing. At this point, you didn’t even know if he was alive or not. You stopped sending him letters after the 12th or 13th one.  You knew it was a lost cause and you gave up on it.

There would be moments where rage and bitterness bubbled inside you, but that was washed away by feelings of sadness, regret, and guilt. Sometimes you would find yourself crying in the middle of the hallway, but you would have no recollection whatsoever of you tearing up.

The sobbing just found its way to you, no matter what you were doing. You would be fine and the next moment you would clutch your head while seated on the tiled, kitchen floor with your back against the wooden cupboards, the river slowly streaming again.

You thought you could live without him, that you would be better off anyway. You were wrong. Very wrong. How many times have you wailed his name loudly during the night?

How many times have you clutched the ruined letter against your palms and chest? Just how many? Frustration welled within every part of your being and it grew tiring. You hated it.

You hated everything in this situation.

Why couldn’t Joe just tell you ahead of time? Anything would’ve been better than this. You didn’t know how his mind worked when he wrote you that letter, when it said that this was the best way.

It was anything but.

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

The deep pit of your stomach fell instantaneously when the name of your boyfriend fell from your neighbor’s lips. Your mind was blank, still trying to comprehend their words.

Sputters and incomplete sentences left your mouth as you questioned them for more details. You didn't know how you felt after one of your neighbors had told you the news of Joe being in a hospital.

How come they knew before you did?

Your fists clenched at your sides before they gripped the hem of your skirt, the loose fabric soon feeling uncomfortable in your (S/C) hands. It all felt like a fever dream and you just assumed that none of this was even happening. It couldn’t be.

Wide, (E/C) eyes stared into the distance, not really focusing on the words and presence of your neighbor. A loud voice called out of your name and your dazed eyes and head snapped to your neighbor, a worried expression plastered on their face.

Your feet were glued to the ground and you switched between looking at the ground and your neighbor’s face. The sounds of your heavy breathing were all you could hear. You could see the shadow of your neighbor inching closer towards your still body.

“(Y/N)... Are you alright, dear?”

“I- I’m… I’m fine. Just…” A stagnant pause rang throughout the air, and you were brought back by a steady hand resting on your shoulder.

“Surprised?” Your neighbor completed your thought for you, a questioning and worried tone lacing their voice.

“A little more than that.”

A dry chuckle left your lips as a feeble attempt to loosen the tense atmosphere.  Questions like the ones that appeared on the day he left arose, making an unwelcome cameo in your brain.

The feeling of shock rushed through like a bolt of literal lightning. Fire burned your nerves and you were you looked stupid with your mouth gaping so big.

You had no words except a thanks to your neighbor before rushing back to your house, quickly opening the door and locking it before slowly walking over to the nearest seat.

You fell onto the cushion immediately, leaning forward with your head in the clutches of your hands. You were very relieved. You finally got to know how he was doing. You finally got to know that he was actually alive and not another body resting on the open field.

What you were experiencing was indescribable. It was a mysterious amalgamation of intense and soft emotions, all rolled up into one. But Joe’s alive…That was all you were thankful for.

He’s alive and you were going to pay him a visit.

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

So that’s where you found yourself…Standing in front of the pale white door that served as a temporary barrier between you and the man you still loved after all of these years. You fumbled with your skirt, bunching up the fabric in your hands and causing them to wrinkle.

A few good minutes were spent in the hallway as you mouthed the words you were going to say to him. Another couple of minutes were spent mentally preparing yourself. 

You rubbed your temples raw and rubbed your forearms at least 20 times in only just a few seconds.Your knuckles gently yet firmly tapped against the wood, the thumping sound of your skin hitting wood was brief and slightly muffled. 

Your breathing stopped and you definitely knew that your breath was caught in your throat. Seconds felt like forever in this situation and you slowly let your raised arm drop to your sides.  Your body was practically tense and stiff, almost resembling the door in front of you.

“Come in…”

As if time stopped itself, you found yourself staying still once again. Your palms flew to your lips to stop you from crying right then and there. You collected yourself before it all hit you. He sounded so broken… It wasn’t like him at all.

There were no signs of the man you once knew. It reminded you of yourself when you broke down after reading his little note. Who would've known that a tiny piece of paper could ruin your life…

Shaking fingers reached for the brass doorknob and you turned it slowly. Anticipation was everywhere and you opened the door to enter his room. Lo and behold, there he was.

Joe Toye.

You haven’t seen him for four and a half years. It’s been so long since you actually saw him in person. Your (E/C) eyes ran over his body. He still looked the same- Soft and dark locks of hair were the same.

His wide dark brown eyes held surprise and love in them drew you in. His skin was paler than you remember, plus the addition of a few scars and wounds. Your eyes zoomed back to his face, and he looked just as surprised as you. 

“(Y/N)...?”

“Who else would it be, Joe?”

“I don’t get it, why are you here…? All of the sudden and out of the blue…” 

But you could tell that as soon as he saw you, his tone of voice got quieter. More gentle. And more loving.

The soft sounds of your footsteps against the polished wooden floors were loud and replaced the silence that ensued. You sat, the mattress dipping from your weight.

Tears suddenly erupted from your eyes, the feeling already too familiar with you. Joe immediately sprang up to wrap his arms around you. As he sat up, you failed to notice the slight wince he let out. Words left his lips to console you.

“(Y/N)- Babe… It’s alright, i’m here now.”

Sobs wracked your whole body, and you would shake in his embrace.

“Why Joe? Why did you do that to me? It’s been years Joe… Years. Can you believe that.”

Joe ran his hands up and down the small of your back, offering you slight comfort as you wailed words into his neck.

“I- I just couldn’t let myself see your face if I told you… You have to understand that it’d be worse if I actually told you-”

“But it hurt more, Joe… It hurt so much more…” 

The soft rubbing on your back slowed and stopped after a few moments. Joe let your words sink slowly into him, the way you said it embedding itself into his mind, and his brain played it over and over again.

His brown eyes were close to tears, feeling too watery. Joe turns his head to look at your face. How he missed you so. If only he knew how much pain he caused you.

A comfortable silence covered the room, and you two remained in each other’s arms, an occasional sniffle or word would be heard. Joe’s fingers twirled locks of your hair, and regret pooled in his stomach as he imagined your tear-stricken face after reading the letter.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so fucking sorry (Y/N).”

He dove down to bury his face in the side of your neck, his tears leaving a cool feeling against your skin. It was your turn to comfort him, and you wrapped your arms around him tighter, trying to make him feel more secure.

“How could you ever forgive me… How could- How could you ever forgive me for this… For what I did to you..”

“Joe… I already have.”

His shut eyes opened and he pulled away from the tender embrace you both shared. His eyes locked onto yours and his lips parted in shock.

“Why…? After all this?”

“Because I love you, Joe… I love you so much…”

“I love you too, (Y/N).”

Your eyes were still locked, and you could see how his eyes would quickly drift over to your lips. A soft smile blossomed on your face as you sniffled. Your smile fell as you remembered the nurse’s words.

“I heard about what happened, Joe… To your leg… I’m so sorry…”

“(Y/N), hey… I’m fine now remember. I’m alive.”

“But Joe-”

“And don’t apologize… It wasn’t your fault.”

You quieted down, and the comfortable silence took over once again. The sun was slowly setting as you could see from the windows. The mellow atmosphere calmed both you and Joe significantly.

Joe suddenly pulled you against his chest, and he hummed a song into your ear. The familiar tune of your favorite song greeted you, and your eyes lit up in response. Joe rubbed your upper arms slowly as you two swayed slowly to the tune.

You found yourself humming along slowly, your humming complimenting his. The end of the song came and you hummed the final note while looking into his eyes.

“(Y/N)?”

“Mm?”

“Do you still remember those promises I wrote to you?”

“Of course, how could I forget? What about them?”

“I intend on fulfilling at least one today…”

Joe’s eyes scanned and looked deeply into your eyes for approval. You consented with a slight nod of your head and that was all it took for him to kiss you. You have waited for so long, but his kiss made all  of it worth it. The two of you did anything to deepen the kiss just a bit more. It was passionate and so full of want. 

It completely encapsulated what both of you wanted ever since the war started. Fleeting touches exchanged during the kiss were replaced with intense ones. Your fists grabbing at his hair and him doing the same.

One of your hands reaches over to push him more against you and one of his grabs the collar of your blouse to pull you towards him.You were left breathless after the kiss, your hair was slightly disheveled and both of your faces flushed and feeling warm. 

Joe was gasping for air and he couldn’t get enough as your swollen lips were practically calling out to be kissed again. After a few moments of kissing and fond touches, you leaned your head on his broad shoulder, hand stroking his chest.

Your eyes drifted down to his blanket covered lower half and you stared at where his leg used to be. His eyes soften as he catches you looking. Joe’s mouth opens to ask you something but you beat him to it.

"So I guess we're not having that dance, huh?"

That was the first thing that came to your mind. 

There was undoubtedly a hint of sadness as you thought of what could have been. You were slightly disappointed and sad, but you couldn’t have been more glad to have Joe right here with you right now.

Melancholy thoughts were interrupted by Joe’s hearty chuckle. He pulls you into his lap, making you straddle him. Joe’s hands brush any stray hairs in the way of your face and his fingers gently brush a few locks of your (H/C) hair behind your ear.

A soft peck was placed on your lips, and a smile was brought back on your face, a flush also deciding to make an appearance. Joe’s warm eyes examine your features and he places his much bigger hands on your hips to keep you steady.

Another tender peck was felt, now on your cheek. Joe pulls away, his eyes cherishing the very sight of you. Joe flashes you bright, gleaming smile and it was accompanied by a few of his chuckles before he responded.

“Bullshit... Of course we're still having that dance."

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ahhhh im finally finished with one of my fics-

hope you enjoy this one loves 💕💕💕💕

btw loves, its like 1 am here and im woa-

btw sorry for any mistakes i was tired-

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

Very cute.

Gotta love when a tough guy is soft for his partner.

I want one.

Some domestic Toye HCs would really water my crops 👀

I enjoyed writing this WAY too much😂  it's less domestic and more fluffy? i don't know why but i let the writing gods guide me and this is where they took me. I really hope you like it and gives you as much Toye feels as it has given me.

All request are open💕

Taglist: @floydtab​ @curraheewestandalone​ @liebegott​

Joe never thought he would be the type to fall completely and utterly in love with someone. Yes, he knew he would end up with someone, but he didn’t think he would be in love as he is.

It’s like a little obsession he has. Where most people want a cup to tea or nap after a long day, Joe wants a kiss and a hug from his person. And if he doesn’t get them you best believe he sulks and broods on his own.

He can’t believe he ended up living with someone so amazing as you who understands him so well and can read his every little emotion. He makes sure to thank you and tell you that you are loved at least a thousand times a day.

He acts all mushy when you’re around and he can’t help the smile at always crosses his face when you look at him.

He makes up an excuse to talk to you just so he can see your face when you look up from whatever you were doing. It’s something dorky that if you didn’t know Joe the way you did, you would’ve thought it was an out of character thing for him to do.

And his heart melts when you say his name and he swear is the most beautiful sound he has ever heard. If you’re in another room and you call him, it takes him a second to realise what is going on, and another to actually answer you back.

If you call him Joey, he knows you want something. He pretends to hate it, but he secretly loves it. He doesn't let anyone else call him that because it is reserved for you and you alone.

This man is one you do not want to cross. If anyone even thought of saying something negative about you or he didn't like their tone of voice, there is nothing he wouldn't do to defend your honour. 

It's a rare occurrence, but it has happened that he has come home with scrapes and bruises because he didn't like the way someone was talking about you. You are the most precious thing to him and Hell be damned if he would let anything slide when it comes to you. 

Joe can be surprisingly handy around the house and if he thinks he can do it himself he refuses to let anyone do it for him. But sometimes it’s ended in disaster and he has to admit defeat and ask you for help.

He sits on the floor when putting furniture together and he can be really stubborn. He will sit and huff if he loses a screw and even if you suggest walking away to take a break, he won’t give up till he’s completed it.

If you’ve gone shopping or bought something that is even slightly heavy, Joe refuses to let you carry it. He loves to do little things like that for you because he thinks it’s a nice way to show the person, he is with how much he loves them.

One of his favourite things to do is watch you put away the food shopping. He sits against the countertop and watches you zoom around the kitchen in your own little world. Sometimes there’s a little conversation but normally he is too lost in looking at you to form a sentence.

But when you need help placing something on a high shelf or press, he is standing behind you ready to help before you can even ask him to. If you ask him to do anything consider it done. There is nothing this man would not do to see you smile.

In return for Joe putting something together or helping you out, he demands kisses. He won't do anything without the promises of kisses before and after.

On days off Joe likes to do nothing, but that’s only if you have the day off too. If you have work or plans, he can’t sit and do nothing by himself and he looks for a distraction, so he forgets that you’re not there with him.

He usually cooks something for the both of you. While Joe isn’t an amazing cook, he does a pretty good job once it’s not too complicated.

No matter what, he always leaves the kitchen in a mess and he SWEARS he is going to clean it up, but you promise to help him. After all he is the one who made the food. It's a nice way for the two of you to catch up and talk about what you did during your time apart.

Because he can’t really cook, you normally make dinners, but he loves to help you out. He proudly shows you the carrots he has chopped or apologises when he lets the soup on the stove boil over, either one earns him a kiss on the nose, and he is in heaven.

If you also have the day off, his ideal day is spending the morning wrapped up in bed with you beside him. He wakes up first, because he's a light sleeper and doesn't really sleep, and he likes looking at you sleeping peacefully beside him.

With your back to his chest and his arm loosely over your waist, he whispers everything he loves about you in your ear in his raspy morning voice. His voice is huskier than usual because he is literally only awake and it's still thick with sleep. And a special mention in here about his sexy morning voice for @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant.

When you're both chilling on the sofa doing nothing in particular, Joe likes to lay his head in your lap. And while he would never ask for it, 99% of the time he wants you to play with his hair or just rub the back of his head.

If he's had a really bad day, he storms into the house and slams every door in the process. He throws, and I literally mean throws, himself onto the couch beside you and once you ask him if he wants to talk about it the flood gates open and you can't get him to shut up until he completely finishes the story.

On days like that, he lies in your lap as well, and he finds it so relaxing when you draw shapes on his shoulders as he tells you about his day. He appreciates all the little kisses you place on his forehead every so often.

Joe loves to have you sit on his lap where he can have his hands on you. He likes to rub circles onto your hip with his thumb or he runs his fingers up and down your arm. His favourite is when he can put his hand on your thigh when you're talking to him. It's nothing sexual for him. It just calms him down and it really grounds him.

Joe Toye appears rough and ready on the outside, and while he looks ready to fight anyone who looks his way, he is such a soft human being. It is a fact, and no one can change my mind.