#lewis nixon angst

[mads-weasley]

Summary: After (y/n) signs up for the WAC's Athena Program, she joins the war with Easy Company, unaware of how much her life will change over the next few years.

Enchanted

Out of the Woods

Haunted

Evermore

Breathe

Daylight

Paris

You Are In Love

Lover

State of Grace

Labyrinth

You’re On Your Own, Kid

Forever Winter

Soon You'll Get Better

Right Where You Left Me

Castles Crumbling

Innocent - currently on break!!

epiphany playlist

message or comment if you want to be added to the tag list!!

[rogue-durin-16]

MISHAPS AND SILVER LININGS

Request: maybeee dialogue prompt 53 with Nixon x female reader?? But maybe kinda angsty also??? (anything u write is great so 🤷‍♀️)

Summary: after all the tragedy endured during the war, nobody would have guessed one last mishap would help the stars align for Lewis Nixon and Y/n Y/l/n.

Prompt:

53. "I remember kissing you. Why do I remember kissing you?"

Pairing: Lewis Nixon x Reader

Genre: angst/fluff

Tags:

Requested by: anon

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: alcoholism, swearing (that's it omfg)

A/N: writing for Nixon was surprisingly easy? I high-key had fun with this one. Thanks for the request love. Remember that requests are open rn so feel free to send yours in. Meanwhile, enjoy this little fic <3

Band of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

A dull light crept through the curtains of the flat Regiment had billeted me in when Nixon finally stirred.

He shifted on my bed, a slight groan escaping his lips the moment his barely open eyes hit the few rays of sun striking the mattress. He had one hell of a hungover.

During the last year of our lives, Lewis Nixon and I had worked side by side across Europe practically at all times— which meant I wasn't exactly a stranger to his drinking problem. Since we came back from that jump over Germany though, it had escalated to a different level.

'He's been demoted' I had disclosed to Dick as soon as we linked back up with Battalion HQ.

'Demoted?' Although his friend had questioned it, no explanation was needed. He already knew. 'Okay, I'll talk to him'.

I don't think anyone could blame him. It all had become too much to handle, specially if one had lost conviction in the reasons we were still fighting this war.

I knew he had lost it. As if it wasn't obvious enough, he had blurted it out one of those nights we stayed awake for one reason or another. That exact night everyone had stayed awake, I believe.

That damned patrol back in Hagenau. We had fought Sink not to push forward that mission, but there was no use.

"This is stupid." I mumbled, arms crossed and my eyes fixed to the other side of the river.

The full moon's light reflected on the snow. In any other setting, I would have found it beautiful, but with fifteen Easy Company members being sent on a suicide, the landscape was far from that.

"Glueing yourself to the window won't help them."

I shot Nix a tired glare and pushed myself off the window in order to walk towards him. "They shouldn't be out there."

"None of us should be out here."

"What do you mean?"

"Why the hell are we here at this point, Y/n/n?"

I didn't have a response.

"Don't you wanna come back home already? To that lovely husband of yours." He teased with a bitter half laugh.

"You're funny." He didn't know about the mail. How could he know? "Don't think he'll be there when I come back."

"What?"

"He sent a letter back when we were in the Bois Jaques." I explained, snatching the glass of whiskey Nix had by the typewriter. "Said if I wasn't home by New Year, he'd file for divorce."

"You're kidding." Nix sat straight in his chair when I didn't laugh. "Who in their right mind would leave you?"

"The man I married, apparently." The officer struggled to meet my eyes. He knew by now I didn't want pity. "Guess he doesn't know why we're still out here either."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He sat up slowly, squinting against the light, one hand coming up to clutch his head. It didn’t take long for him to notice me slouched on the bedroom's armchair. His gaze darkened, panic flashing across his features.

“What the hell…” he muttered, groaning softly. He rubbed his face and looked around, as if hoping he could piece together the memory.

I watched his eyes darting around like he was still scrambling to make sense of everything. The awkward silence stretched between us until he finally spoke.

“I… I remember kissing you.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking almost angry with himself. “Why do I remember kissing you?”

The Night Before

The knock at the door was unsteady, clumsy, like he could barely remember how to make a fist. I pulled on a sweater and padded across the cold floor, half-expecting to find someone delivering bad news. Instead, there was Nixon, eyes glazed, swaying slightly as he tried to focus on me.

“Jesus, Nix…” I murmured, instinctively stepping aside as he staggered into the room. The sharp, sour scent of whiskey clung to him, familiar but stronger than usual, almost suffocating. I shut the door behind him, hands already moving to steady him as he slumped into the nearest chair, his gaze unfocused.

“What on God's name are you doing here?”

He looked up at me, his face a blur of exhaustion, frustration, and something else—something deeper. “She’s leaving me, y'know,” he slurred. “Kat's divorcing me."

"Jesus, Lew." I poured him a glass of water and kneeled down. "Now?"

"Took… took the damn dog, too."

"She took your dog?!"

He snorted with glassy irises. "Everything. I think... I knew it would happen, but… didn’t think it’d feel like… like this.”

I swallowed, feeling the heaviness of his words settle in my chest. “I’m sorry, Nix,” I whispered, unsure of what else to say, until I remembered the words he said to me back in Hagenau. “I don't know who in their right mind would leave you.”

It was soft, just like the featherlight touch of my thumb brushing away a rogue tear before it could reach his jawline. It sounded dangerously similar to 'I wouldn't leave you'. Maybe that's what he had meant back then.

He let out a bitter laugh, his head falling back against the chair. “Yeah, well… doesn’t matter. Not anymore.” He closed his eyes, breathing out, then looked at me with a strange intensity, like he’d finally worked up the nerve to say something he’d been holding onto for too long.

Something I both craved and dreaded to hear.

“Do you know…” He trailed off, blinking as if the words kept slipping away from him. “Do you know how hard it’s been? Pretending I don’t… pretending I don’t want to kiss you every damn time I see you?”

The confession knocked the air from my lungs, and I stood there, stunned, heart pounding too loudly in the silence that followed.

“Nix…” I began, voice barely a whisper, but he just shook his head, his eyes shifting, unfocused and pained.

“I wanted to kiss you from the very first second I heard your voice.” he said, voice rough and broken. "I remember how beautiful you looked the first day we worked together, how smart you were and how I just wanted to... But Kat- I couldn't... Do that to her and your- you..." He pinched the bridge of his nose, "I tried and... for what? For this?"

My lips were sealed with panic but the glint in my gaze and the liquor in his veins spurred him.

"Tell me it's just me... Tell me..." He did his best to lean forward without lolling too much. "Everytime it almost happened... Just say..." His look dropped to my lips, too intoxicated to care how obvious he was. "The 'what if's haunt me when I stare for too long..."

I couldn't say I didn't feel exactly like that. The cautious dance we were in was long overdue —the brush of a hand, a whisper closer than necessary, that drink we shared in Mourmelon that almost made us cross the line—, but it had been a silent mutual agreement not to act on it.

Before I could process everything, before I could find the right words to stop it without pretending I didn't feel the same, he leaned forward, his hands gripping my arms for support as he pressed his lips to mine.

It was lousy, desperate, filled with something raw and aching, and I didn’t know if it was my own hesitation or his unsteady hands that made it linger just a second too long.

He staggered back, eyes half-closed, almost as if he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined the whole thing. His hands dropped, and he swayed, his breath slowing as the exhaustion finally took over. His head slumped onto my shoulder, and he exhaled, a quiet surrender.

“Nix?” I whispered, looking down to see his eyes shut, breaths now slow and even.

The confession hung between us, unanswered. And I sat there, his weight against me, tangled in everything I wanted to say but couldn’t.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The panicked question floated in the air, heavy with something I couldn’t quite name.

"Y/n." I looked down, unable to meet his eyes. "Why do I remember kissing you?"

I cleared my throat and did my best to sound somewhat nonchalant about it. “Well, maybe because you kissed me, Lew.”

"For Christ's sake..." He groaned, rubbing his face with his palms. "Just what I needed, great. This is great."

"You drank too much." I tried to excuse him. Emphasis on 'tried'.

"I always drink too much and this never—" Another frustrated groan, this time louder, escaped him.

"I've never seen you... That drunk." The statement was tainted with worry; a worry I had felt the night before and didn't have time to voice. "You looked... awful. I had to drag you to the bed." I stole a peek at him while I explained, catching a mortified expression on his part as he sat up, legs hanging from the side of the bed as he was now facing me. "I get it. I really do. It's hard enough out here. Hey—" I kneeled down to meet his casted down face, much like the night before, but with very different circumstances. "You saw me in Noville. I wasn't... I wasn't myself. And it wasn't even-"

I pondered how to put my thoughts into words without making it worse. The best way to explain he wasn't all that bad without making a fool of myself.

"I didn't... Love him, y'know? Charles, I mean." At the name of my soon to be ex-husband, Nix seemed to regain the will to meet my eyes, which now recoiled from his. "Not anymore, at least. But it felt... The letter felt like a gut punch— I felt like... my life slipped through my fingers. And when stuff like that happens, we do stupid things. Because we feel lost."

"Is that what I said?"

"Huh?"

"That I felt lost."

I shook my head no, the realization that he didn't quite remember his drunken speech dawning on me.

"What exactly did I tell you?"

"You... Don't remember what you said?"

"No- I... What did I say?"

Suddenly eager to put distance between us, I bolted to my feet and walked out of the room. "I don't know- things anyone would say when they're drunk as a skunk."

"Like- like what things?" He questioned, his steps trailing behind me in the kitchen's direction.

"Nix, you were drunk and going through shit." Deep down, I didn't think I would be able to reason my way out of that one, but I had to try. "Don't put much thought into it." I insisted, reaching for the percolator to brew a very much needed coffee.

"What did I say? Y/n-" just as I was about to turn on the stove, he interlaced his calloused fingers around my wrist and gently tugged on it to stand face-to-face. "Just tell me how much I screwed it."

"You didn't screw anything."

"Then why can't you look at me?"

"Maybe because we've been trying not to end up here for a literal year and now this happened?"

Lew scrutinized me with fear in his dark eyes. I had seen that expression too many times, he was drawing his conclusions based on what he knew.

"Did I tell you I'm in love with you?"

Silence. Charged silence. One look was enough for him to realize he did not say that. His hand let go of me to cover his mouth while he took a step back.

Once more, I was at loss of words, which was something Nix had rarely accomplished in the time we had known each other.

"I... I don't know what I was thinking— Jesus Christ—" he exhaled the last part, an apology plastered all over him. "I'm just gonna... I shouldn't have come in the first place."

He was about to turn heel and leave. We both had done that before, more times than we could count. The difference was, there was no need for me to let him slip away; not anymore.

In a spurt of bravery, I grasped at his forearm and tugged him back, daring to stare straight into his soul while I spoke.

"You said Kat was divorcing you. Said you didn't think you'd feel like this." I began, voice clear as day. "You said you were done pretending you didn't wanna kiss me everytime you see me." He dropped his gaze, a flicker of regret in his eyes, jaw clenched tight. "You said the 'what if's haunt you if you stare for too long. You asked me if it was just you who felt like that."

"... Am I?" He recalculated the situation, shame dissipating to let me discern something similar to hope.

"Y'know what's the first thing I thought after reading Charles' letter?" He barely had time to deny with his head before I continued. "I thought 'fuck him, the man I love sleeps in my goddamn foxhole'." His breath hitched at the word but he didn't shy away from me; on the contrary, he watched my every move while my grip eased from his arm and traveled to the back of his neck. "Now tell me, are you fucking sober yet?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good 'cause I'm done pretending too."

My statement was hasty and quick. The previous night had left me too eager to return the kiss I had so desperately wanted to give him.

Months of stealing longing glances at each other fueled our need to make sure there was no space between us anymore. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling my upper body flush against his while the kiss deepened in a way we could only have fantasized about— had it not been for those damn letters.

Who would have thought our silver lining of war would be our failed marriages?

[mads-nixon]

hi everyone! welcome to my band of brothers & the pacific side-blog! my messages and ask box are always open, so shoot me a message anytime you feel like it. also, requests are now CLOSED for the pacific and bob!! you can find the request guidelines below!

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xoxo,

mads :)

Band of Brothers

italics - wips

Eugene “Doc” Roe

- At Last

- Break the Distance

- C'est Toi (Soulmate!AU)

Joe Liebgott

- Of Course It’s You

- Liebling

Floyd Talbert

- “The Night of the Bayonet”

- I’m Here (oc)

George Luz

- Home

- Old Friends

Dick Winters

- Winter at the Winters'

- Meine Liebe

Ron Speirs

- Keeping You Safe

- For Me

- Knight in Dirty ODs

Lewis Nixon

- Here With You

- The Vow

- Timeless

- Epiphany Series Masterlist

Johnny Martin

- Follow You Anywhere

Headcannons

- Nix When He's Sick

- Dating Eugene Roe

- Post-War Harry Welsh

The Pacific

Robert Leckie

- Crazy

Bill "Hoosier" Smith

- You Before Me

Eugene Sledge

- See the Good

Headcanons

- Hoosier Dating an Extrovert

- Chuckler Dating an Artist

- Chuckler Dating a Medic

Masters of the Air:

You can find things from gifs to fics, and posts about the flyers and ground crews in Masters of the Air on my sideblog, @major-mads!!

comment or message me if you want to be tagged in anything!!

[joe-fuckingtwice-toye]

i know i have to leave but it hurts so much

i stay awake and i wonder how i could tear away your blues

so tell me, is this love enough? tell me what is really worth.

pov: richard winters

is my love enough? by white lies

[darling-heffron]

Sorry all my wifi had been acting up and then I got busy doing other things, then poof, Saturday came and went! So sorry this is late but I hope the chapter makes up for it. Also I got my nails done and didn't think of the implications to my typing lmao! ✨

Taglist: @mellow-human , @malarkgirlypop , @next-autopsy

Chapter Seven: And then there were Two

Sam’s POV: 

Walking was the easy part of Sam’s journey, the hard part was avoiding everyone else. Especially the humans, she didn’t need to meet anymore people like the family she had only buried days ago. 

There could be no guilt clouding her thoughts during these times, she needed to be focussed not sentimental. The last thing she needed was a friend. 

Her army comrades often called Sam the lone wolf of the pack, often adjacent from the other troops who were bonding and making lasting friendships. Sam enjoyed her solitude and didn’t have the patience for stupid people, she had other activities that filled her boredom. 

Fighting mainly, as it was a good way to release her stress. She often found that after having a rough day, letting out her pent up emotions on the punching bag felt good. Sam never felt the need to vent to her “friends”, her fists did all the talking she needed.  

If she didn’t feel like fighting, books had the same effect as talking to people. Except she didn’t have to say anything back to them. She didn’t enjoy fictional novels about romance and friendship and adventure. The blonde preferred the cold hard facts of history, she would learn from everyone else's mistakes and not make them herself. 

Unfortunately sometimes Sam would have to deal with people during her job. On her tours in Afghanistan she was paired with the most annoying girl in the squad. 

A lucky dip that was not so lucky. 

Her partner drove her mad almost every single day, trying to befriend the tall woman. Sam was not having it, she didn’t need nor want a friend. The soldier was a petite brunette that was only a couple of years younger, but for some reason she was always so happy. Always a pep to her step and a song in her heart, the girl was joyful on crack. 

Even in her demise she still somehow had a smile on her face and was optimistic about her doomed fate. 

The girl, Abby, had died only days before they were set to depart back home. She had offered to do the final sweep of the night for Sam, which she had been scheduled to complete. On her route back she had misstepped, accidentally setting off an IED that in turn took her life not hours later. 

Lying on the street with her limbs scattered about, she bled out slowly and painfully. But still the young girl managed to smile and laugh, making a joke. Abby had laid in Sam’s lap as she lost her blood and quickly turned cold. The last thing she had said was, “I’m glad it was me and not you.” 

Abby had died later that night in hospital from her wounds. Her death still haunted the angry blonde. 

Her depressing thoughts were interrupted by boisterous noise. Sam looked up with disgust etched into her face. These were the stupid fuckers she was talking about. 

Even from a distance she could see their unkempt oily hair and dirty clothes. They smiled at each other while they joked, some misogynistic comment falling from the shorter ones mouth as the other two chortled together. 

“Ugh, gross.” She muttered out loud. Sam didn’t enjoy people, but men were her least favourite. It may have been her army upbringing but all the men she knew were cunts, especially her father who seemed to be the worst one of all. 

The only reason there were other people here was because she had made it to Albany. Walking all day for two days she had made good time from Pittsfield. But even though the city offered food and other resources, it attracted everything else along with it. Just like the group of men who stood only 50 feet away, laughing amongst themselves. 

Somehow luck didn’t seem to be in favour of the young woman; she accidentally kicked an empty can across the street as she tried to evade the group. 

“Fuck me.” Sam cursed under her breath. She watched the men swivel their heads around to investigate the noise. Sam ducked quickly trying to hide behind the abandoned car she was standing near but she knew she had been spotted. 

“Hey pretty lady!” One of the men cooed. Sam rolled her eyes so hard she was concerned they were going to get stuck in the back of her head. 

“We see you blondie, come out!” The other greasy man joined in. 

Sam silently screamed in her head, she was not in the mood for people. Drawing in a deep breath she stood. She cracked her neck as she walked out from behind the vehicle. 

The men started to walk briskly towards her. Her fingers flexed at her side, itching to latch around the weapon on her hip. But she stood still, a relaxed posture and bitchy face, well her normal face but still, she looked menacing. 

“Quite a scowl you got blondie.” The tallest man of the group smirked at her. 

Her face didn’t change even with the comment. Sam didn’t speak, she didn’t want to seem like she was trying to make excuses. Plus men dug themselves into deeper holes in silence than in conversation. She would bait them. 

“Not much of a talker.” The short thinning haired man stepped closer, even though he was still a good foot away she could smell him from here. 

“Yeah but she is a looker, hey Jeremy.” The snivelly looking man egged on the tall one, Jeremy, elbowing him in the side.  

“You sure are pretty.” Jeremy licked his lips. Sam’s disgust was audible at the action. 

The young woman flicked her eyes around the group. They didn’t seem to be all that well equipped, noting the baseball bat the short chubby man held, and the grimey machete on the rodent looking man’s belt. Jeremy seemed to be the only one with a gun, tucked into the front of his waistband. Sam scoffed that was only good for one thing, getting his dick shot off.   

“I think she’s scared of us.” Weasel man continued. He looked like the fucking jester of the group, though he didn’t seem all that funny. 

“You don’t have to be afraid, we’re really nice.” The chubby man had the audacity to reach out to try and touch Sam’s arm. 

Her reflexes were faster. Sam’s hand shot out from her side and gripped the man’s limb like a vice. 

That set the group on edge, the other two sprung back, hands clasping around their own weapons. 

“I’m not afraid of you horrible fuck-eyed wank cloths.” Sam growled, squeezing the man's hand even harder. He let out a whimper of pain and tried to wiggle free, but Sam’s hold didn’t budge. 

“Leave me the fuck alone, before I rip of every single one of your ballsacks off and feed it to the rabid motherfuckers while you watch.” The man guffawed at her statement, her words were clearly not enough for the men, she would have to show them. 

“Oh you need proof. Well baldly, how many fingers you want broken?” Sam sneered at the man, his face bright red with rage and pain. 

“Now you’re quiet?” Sam wrenched the thinned haired man’s finger backwards extending them towards his back. “That means I get to choose.” She whispered before completely twisting the chubby man’s hand completely backwards until there was a satisfying crunch. 

Baldy howled in pain as he clutched at his now broken wrist. It hung limply from the joint, the men who had watched the whole interaction, now began to rile up. 

“What the fuck is your problem blondie?” Jesterville Jones piped up, his buck teeth exposed as he hopped around like the rabbit he was.     

“I chose wrist.” Sam shrugged, seemed like he wasn’t paying attention, or was an idiot. Most likely an idiot. 

“We didn’t do anything to you.” Jeremy whined as if his mum had just taken away his PS5 privileges. 

“You approached me, that was your first mistake. Then you called me blondie, you half chewed pencil looking fuck. And this literal easy bake oven tried to touch me. So if I counted correctly, which he can’t.” Sam pointed to weasel face. “That would make three things you did to me.” 

“Now do you all want limp wrists, you slimy turd canoes?” Sam threatened the gaggle of fucking morons. “Or would you like to leave with the little dignity you have still intact?” 

As soon as she finished her sentence the men fled. Tails between their legs like the small chihuahuas they were.  

Mars POV: 

Getting to Albany was simple. Marleen packed up and left as the sun was rising, unwilling to be near that house any longer. She followed along the highway, using road signs as her guide. 

The houses began getting closer together until she found herself at the city's edge. The closer she got the more her nerves started to scramble. Mars spotted several small groups and lone rabids and did everything she could to avoid them, turning a three hour journey into five. 

Marleen had never been to Albany before, but she could imagine what it was like; the roads bustling with vehicles, people everywhere, everything teaming with life. 

And now, it was barren. Abandoned. 

If she had to guess she would say there were live humans in this vast city somewhere but nowhere that she could see. 

That could be a good thing though. At least that’s what Denver always said. And just like that she was tearing up once again- how many tears did she have left? Surely her eyes would run dry at some point? 

Shaking her head, Mars headed into the eerie ghost town. 

She didn’t get very far before noticing undead stumbling in her direction. Shit. There were too many for her to stay and fight, she had no choice but to flee. They hadn’t seen her yet, giving her the advantage of stealth. 

As quietly as she could, Mars turned and treaded down a side street, off the main road and out of the zombies' sight. 

This repeated a few times; Marleen would come across a number of rabids and sneak away unseen onto a new path, slowly making her way through the maze of a city. 

Her luck was seemingly up. Avoiding certain death had never been easier for the young blonde.  

Until it wasn’t.

Mars rounded a corner, making her way down a narrow road- a glorified alleyway. And she did so without checking to see if the way was clear, her first mistake. 

Her second mistake was immediately dropping her only weapon the instant she bumped into something. 

Marleen had walked straight into a solid body and squealed. It took her a moment to realise that whatever she had walked into could be a human; like her or an undead and she had yet to find out which.

Her yelp was mixed with a low voice, arms wrapped around her body and held her close, it felt all too familiar. Mars cried out and struggled against the unknown person until she heard a distinct voice- the undead can't speak.  

Her head flicked upwards, revealing her captor as a living. In fact, there were three living men standing in front of her. 

All caution was thrown to the wind, she hadn’t seen real people since she and Denver had been separated two nights prior, and she found she was missing the social interaction. Being able to talk to someone who was capable of talking back, who didn’t have blood covering every inch of them- that was priceless to Mars. 

“Hey, shhh, It's okay.” The man holding on to her spoke, his grasp on her had stabilised the both of them, keeping the pair upright. Now that they were in no danger of falling, he released his grip on her and held up his hands in mock surrender.

From where she stood, she had a second to give them a once over and take in their appearances. They looked like they’d been through hell. Dirty and greasy and covered in filth. 

Something that stuck out to her was the shortest one favoured his left hand, like it was hurt. She would bring that up at some point, make sure chubby hadn't been bitten by a rabid.

She had two voices telling her two very different things right now and wasn’t sure what to do. 

One said: Absolutely do not trust these guys, turn and leave right now, you don’t know these strangers.

While the other said: Maybe they could help you? It’s tough being out here all alone, having friends is never a bad thing. Talk to them, ask if they can help you get to Illinois. 

“Uh-Hello?” Was the greeting she settled on, this seemed to please them as all three grinned at her. It should have been a good sign, the smiles; but for some reason it unnerved her. 

“Hello beautiful.” The tallest man, her ‘saviour’ spoke out, “you out here all alone?” Mars nodded slowly, still not totally convinced she could trust these guys. 

“Well what would a pretty girl like you be doing out here all by herself?” One of the others spoke up, he had buck teeth that resembled a mouse or a rat. All three men still smiled at her waiting for her answer. 

“I-I’m trying to get to Illinois.”

“Illinois, eh?” The rat man echoed the words as he stepped closer to her, “We can help ya get to Illinois.” 

“You can?” Mars felt a smile creep onto her face. She held hope that these men would be kind and helpful, regardless of their appearance. Don't judge a book by its cover and all that.

“Sure.” The tallest, who seemed to be their leader, smirked. 

“Yeah, we can help you.” Rat-man laughed as he nudged his friend's arm with his elbow, like they were sharing a joke- one that Mars was not privy to. 

It was then that Mars noticed the machete in the rat's grip, that paired with her dropped knife gave her chills- goosebumps rippled over her body. 

“You just have to do a little something for us first….” His voice gave Mars the heebie jeebies and she began to rethink her openness to the trio- maybe she should have been more skeptical of the strangers. 

“Scratch our backs, we scratch yours, blondie.” Rat-man reached out his hand and stroked Marleen’s cheek, her body instinctively flinched back, trying to get out of his reach.

“Really?” A louder voice sounded from behind the group of men. The trio seemed to recognise the person who had spoken, stilling in their actions and slowly turning. 

Between the gap of the men, Mars could see a tall, lean woman with a menacing stance. Her glare made the men shiver and Marleen found that she too was intimidated by this lady. 

Sam’s POV: 

Sam had tried her best to avoid the group after they had retreated. She continued on her search for food and water, but unfortunately before rounding a corner she had heard the slimy idiots talking amongst themselves. 

However what piqued her interest was a soft feminine voice that spoke back. Sam had stepped into the alley just as weasel face had said, “Scratch our backs, we scratch yours, blondie.” 

That pissed off the tall woman. For one, they had gone from one woman to the next, and secondly they didn’t even have the creativity to think of any better lines. 

“Wow! I thought you guys were fucking stupid, but this just really proves my point!” Sam gave her best cheerful sarcastic tone. 

“You seriously can’t think of any better material than Blondie?” She peered over their shoulders, finding a young petite woman backed into a corner by the group. The woman’s face said it all, please help me.  

A sigh left Sam’s lips, she was not in the mood for playing hero, but also the young girl, not even woman, looked so helpless it felt like a crime to leave. 

She cast her glare towards michelin man, who cowered under her hateful stare. He didn’t give her a second glance before darting off and ditching his so-called friends. 

“Dylan what the fuck dude!” Jeremy called out after fatso. Damn she had never seen someone of that girth run so fast. 

“Roly-poly has the right idea. Why don’t the rest of you scram and leave Bambi alone.” Sam looked over to the young lady, aptly named for her big doe eyes and deer in the headlights stare. 

“We aren’t scared of you, blondie.” Jeremy snarled. 

“Which one are you talking to, cause remember we are both ‘Blondie’ according to you.” Sam pointed out that the one name that had given each of the girls now didn’t work in the situation. 

“I’m talking to you-” He paused for a moment, pointing in her direction. “Angry blondie.” 

“Look at you using adjectives. Kind of embarrassing it took you that long to think of one, and angry at that.” Sam grimaced at the fucking idiot sandwich stood before her. 

“Can we be done now, I’m so fucking bored of this conversation?” Sam glanced down at her watch, she literally had better things to be doing than standing here wasting her breath on these white-trash shart hounds. 

“Well- uh- you.” The weasel man stuttered over his words. 

“You-uh-uh-um.” Sam mocked them. “Spit it out, speech impediment.”

“Right, that's it!” Inflatable balloon man bellowed in the least intimidating voice he could manage. In a quick motion he whipped out his gun from the front of his pants. Sam shied away worried he was going to whip out something else at the same time. 

“I don’t need to see all that.” Sam gestured to the man’s crotch. The young woman during the chaos, had bent down and grabbed the knife that had laid on the floor just in front of her. Sam watched her stand again, clutching the weapon to her chest. 

Jeremy surged forward with his gun, he flailed it around, it seemed as if he was unsure if he wanted to shoot Sam or hit her with it. It didn’t matter, the tall woman had disarmed him in seconds. 

Now she had the man by his neck and his gun in her grasp. Jeremy was pinned to her chest as he stared out at his mate who looked shocked but was still fixed in his position, not helping his buddy. 

Sam pressed the barrel of the man’s gun to his temple. Everyone froze, collectively holding their breaths. Weasel man’s face had drained of blood and he looked sickly pale. Bambi continued to wear her brown doe eyed stare, her mouth hanging slightly agape, Sam was unsure if this was due to shock or awe. 

“Alright lady!” Rodent man held out his hands showing his surrender. “We’ll leave you alone, just let us go!” The man pleaded. 

“Yeah just let us leave.” Jeremy sobbed like a young child who had lost their mummy in the supermarket. 

Sam brought the butt of the gun down hard into the side of Jeremy’s head, the man yelped out in pain as she pushed him away from her and he stumbled to the floor. Rodent man collected his friend from the floor, and urged him to leave. 

“My gun.” Jeremy held out his hand for his weapon. 

“It’s mine now. Fuck off.” Sam dismissed the command. She watched in amusement as the pair fled together, moving so fast they were falling over each other in panic. 

Turning on her heel she walked the way she had come from back out onto the street. 

Mars POV:

“Wait!” Marleen called out to her retreating saviour, “where are you going?” Her feet began following the mysterious woman- who completely ignored her. Her pace quickened, only slowing when she came side by side with the fiery lady. 

“Hey! I asked where you’re going.” Her statement came out whiny and she reached for the other woman's forearm. The moment her fingertips touched their target, the stranger sprung into action. She halted her steps and raised a closed fist so quickly that Mars barely had time to register what was happening.

“Woah-wait wait wait- it’s me! It’s me!” The shorter woman released her grip and raised her hands to cover her face, dropping her knife yet again. 

It clattered to the floor as both women watched.

“Who?”

“Me, it’s me?” Mars peered up at the taller blonde, her voice squeaked out from her defensive position, “From just now… you know, with those guys- Bambi! I’m Bambi…remember?” 

Recognition crosses over her face, “Oh. Right.” The woman lowered her fist, “You dropped your knife.” Her parting words as she turned swiftly and continued in the same direction. 

Mars huffed, bending over to pick up the weapon and then straightening to run after the other blonde. 

“You didn't answer my question.” Her words were spoken in between breaths, “Where are we going?” 

That seemed to gain the attention of her ruthless heroine, making her freeze in place once more. 

“We?” Her eyebrows raised in surprise, “WE aren’t going anywhere.” She gestured between the two of them with her finger. 

“But,” Marleen’s face scrunched in confusion, her bottom lip stuck out in a pout, “You just saved me?” 

“And?” 

Mars had no reply. It seemed logical to her that they buddy up, everyone needs friends and Mars could surely use someone as capable as her. 

The lean girl, hearing no reply from the smaller party continued on her journey. Once again, leaving ‘Bambi’ behind. 

And just like before, Mars chased after her, this time calling out “Can’t I come with you? I’ll be so quiet you won’t even know I’m there!” 

“No, I don’t pick up stragglers.” The woman’s husky voice sounded as she kept walking away from the young girl. 

“So why did you save me? Why not just let me die?” Marleen argued, genuinely curious. 

“I-”

“So you clearly have a conscience, or else you would’ve watched me be attacked by those men.” She spoke her thoughts aloud as they popped into her head, no filter and not even waiting to hear her responses. 

“Look-”

“Or you just didn’t want to watch it, so now you’re just leaving me to die when you don’t have to see.” 

“Jesus-”

“Cause leaving me now is like second hand murder. You know I’m not going to get very far by myself, but you’re still leaving.”

“Alright, alright! Fine! Christ, you made your point, I got it!” The lady finally got her words in before the young girl interrupted her once again. The taller of the two swung around to gesture for the persistent girl to cease her incessant yapping, “I will walk you to the next town over and then as soon, and I mean as soon as I find another group or person to take you, you are not my problem anymore. Understand?”

Mars let a cheesy smile break onto her face as she literally jumped for joy. “Deal!” Extending her pinky finger out to seal the promise the taller woman had just made. 

“I’m not making a pinky promise.” The lady shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Still Mars held out her hand, smiling widely, tipping her head to encourage the standoffish girl to accept her outstretched pinky. 

“No! I’m not.” The girl doubled down. But Mars ever so vigorously stood her ground, until the other blonde sighed and finally did as Marleen had asked. She reached out her hand quickly interlinking her pinky finger with the younger girl. The tall blonde snatched her hand away after sealing their deal. 

“Oh my God, are you normally this fucking infuriating?” 

“It depends who you ask.” Said with a shrug of her shoulders and a smirk on her face. “I’m Marleen, by the way.” 

“I didn’t ask.”

“You can call me Mars though.” Her cheery voice continued, “Sooo- what’s your name?” She was met with silence. “Okay, fine. Stay mysterious. I’ll just call yooou- Jessica?”

“No.” Her saviour deadpanned. 

“Okay, not Jessica…. Georgia?” Hope seeped into her words as she gently elbowed her taller companion in an attempt to gain her favour. 

“Please stop.” 

“You could just tell me your name? I’d stop if I knew what to call you- maybe Lauren?” 

Realising she wouldn’t shut her mouth until she got what she wanted, the calmer of the pair offered a solution, “If I tell you my name, will you be quiet?” 

“Yes.” Her reply was instantaneous and full of excitement. 

“It’s Sam.” She sighed out exasperatedly. 

“Sam!” Mars grinned, barely one second of silence passed before she was speaking once again, “Sam Sam Sam… is that short for Samantha?” 

“Shut. Up!” 

AHHHHHHHHHH our girls finally met oml oml, so excited for this duo you have no idea! But ah, Sam doesn't seem all the keen on it ahaha sorry girl you got lumped with a whole ball of sunshine. Let me know if you also love these girlies together as much as I do.

Esra ✨

[baura-bear]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Band of Brothers (TV 2001) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lewis Nixon/Richard Winters Characters: Lewis Nixon, Richard Winters Additional Tags: Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, If You Squint - Freeform, Post-War, Canon Era, Domestic Fluff Summary:

Dick stopped next to him, watching curiously. “What are you doing?” He inquired.

Lew side eyed him, tongue still hanging out. “Eating snow.” Without another word he let gravity do the work as he flopped backwards onto the ground. It wasn’t enough to really cushion his landing, but he had a proper landing technique. It was nothing compared to throwing yourself from a plane. “Oof,” he huffed out as he hit the ground, splaying his arms out in an angel shape. Instead of flapping his limbs like one would to create a snow angel, he stared up at Dick who was still standing. “Well, come on.”

Dick carefully lowered himself to the ground an angel's length away from Lew and started making his imprint. Lew, apparently satisfied, started doing the same. Neither of them made an attempt to get up, even after they’d both stopped moving. Their arms were still splayed out, hand barely a finger's length away from each other as they watched snow fall from the sky.

[ithinkabouttzu]

Hi there! I was wondering if I could request some of your amazing headcanons? How would Easy Company react to you telling them that you can't have kids/can't have a family with them? Totally okay if you don't feel comfortable with it. Thank you either way, and have a great day! 😁♥️

Easy co. reacting to you not wanting/not being able to have children.

A/n: Hi! Thank you so much for your request my love! I’m so sorry this took so long to write, but i hope you enjoy! 💝

genre: angsty, comfort to fluff!

warnings: TW: Infertility, sadness, depression, relationship difficulties, swearing.

description: Some of the men reacting to their s/o (you) not being able or not wanting to have kids.

taglist: @executethyself35 @linhkhanhcps @1waveshortofashipwreck @grumpy-liebgott @barbeygirl @samwinchesterslostshoe @ronsenthal @sweetxvanixlla @mstiemountainhop (If you want to be on this list, let me know!! :))

BoB masterlist

Dick Winters: When you break the news to him, the first thing he’s doing is making sure you are okay. It probably took a lot to tell him, especially if you and he both wanted kids. “Well, are you alright?” He might feel a little sad at first but he quickly changes his perspective on it. As long as you aren’t saddened by it then he isn’t either. Besides he knows there are probably tons of little ones in the adoption system that could use an amazing home like yours and his.

Lewis Nixon: “That’s all right, doll.” When you tell him he's very soft and understanding around you. It doesn’t bother him one bit that you can’t have kids. If you really wanted them though, he would comfort you for as long as you needed. If kids weren’t something you really wanted anyway he would still make sure and ask if you were alright. He tries his best to make some positive of the situation by saying stuff like, “Well at least we won’t be having to change blowout diapers or swim in college debt anytime soon.”

Carwood Lipton: “Oh honey, I'm sorry.” The first thing he’s doing when you tell him the news is wrapping you up in a big warm hug. Whether you wanted kids or not, he's going to be comforting you and making sure that you are okay no matter what. He would be a little sad just because he would love to have family with you, but he knows IVF and surrogacy are options also, plus adoption. If you didn’t want kids at all he would 100% support your decision, he just wants you to be happy.

Joe Toye: When you let him know that you aren’t able to have kids, he’s honestly crushed. He would never tell you that or show that to you, but he dreams of having a family with you. (Mans literally forgot adoption was a thing) He wants to console you by gifting you a bunch of things or taking you on lots or dates, just to take your mind off of it. He loves you so much, having kids doesn’t even really matter when it comes down to it. As long as he’s your man, he’s happy.

Joe Liebgott: He knows if he’s sad about the news, you would be sad too, even more than he was. “It’s alright sweet thing. I’ll always be here for you.” If you really wanted kids he would remind you that you guys still could have a perfect little family together, surrogacy or adoption are both great options. He reminds you over and over again that there was nothing you or could change about it and you are completely perfect the way you are.

Bill Guarnere: In his way of thinking, he would rather have his significant other and no kids, than kids and no significant other. He would hate to ever lose you in any way. So when you tell him that you can’t have kids it doesn’t affect your relationship with him a whole lot. As long as you are okay with it, then he is okay with it too. If you were saddened by it he would hold you and tell you everythings gonna be okay, “We’re gonna figure this out honey, don’t worry.”

George Luz: He wraps you up in a big hug when you tell him. This sweet baby doesn’t even really understand the details of it all, but he knows that he’s gonna love you matter what, kids or not. He would choose you over and over again even if kids were off the table. If children was something you wanted I think he would kinda be like nix, saying stuff like, “Well at least we won’t have to stay up all night with screaming and dirty diapers?” He tries to make everything as positive as possible. He’s gonna love you no matter what.

Bull Randleman: “Well how do you feel about all this?” He kinda bases his emotions on what you’re feeling at the moment and if you’re okay with no kids or if you aren’t. He would feel sad only a little at first but then he realizes you guys could always adopt and isn’t really sad after that. He is the sweetest guy ever about the whole thing. He just wants to hold you and promise you that everything will and is going to be okay. “It’s all gonna work itself just out, don’t worry about you and me sweetheart.”

Eugene Roe: Gene is kinda similar to Winters in this case. In his way of thinking, he took vows to love you and be there for you no matter what. He would never think of you any differently. He just wants to make sure you are alright about the whole thing. “I’m sorry. Cheri. Is there anything I can do?” If you are sad he will do just about anything to make you feel better, he loves you so much.

Floyd Talbert: “It’s okay Angel, everything is gonna be okay.” I think when you tell him he wouldn’t be sad or anything, mostly just surprised. He wants to make sure you aren’t sad about it before he says or does anything else. He would try to cheer you up on the situation if you were sad about it, reminding you adoption is always a good option and just you and him would be perfect as it is now. I could see him surprising you with a nice vacation somewhere to cheer you up.

Skip Muck: He doesn’t say anything really, just because he fears he might fuck something up if he does. The look on his face explains everything for you. You can tell he’s sad, sad for you and him. That’s during the initial reaction, if you still wanted kids though, he would love to adopt with you or start some sort of surrogacy. If you didn’t want a family at all he would be crushed at first but he would move on eventually.

Don Malarkey: If you and him were having fertility issues, he would feel like it’s his fault the entire time, he just wants to give you that perfect little family you guys have always dreamed of. It’s easy to say that when he finds out about you not being able to have/don’t want to have children he would just feel terrible about the whole thing. If you didn’t want kids he would feel like maybe he pressured you somehow about it and would also feel terrible about that. He’s totally encouraging and caring of you though.

Shifty Powers: “Don’t worry about it all right now, we’re still young, we've got our whole lives to figure this stuff out.” He’s so validating during the whole process of baby stuff. Constantly telling you not to worry about it, if it's meant to be that you guys have children, then let it be. If it isn’t, then it just isn’t. But whatever decision you make, he's going to support you 100%.

Babe Heffron: He’s silent. So fucking silent. “So what do you want to do now, honey?” He wants you to decide any further options as far as children go, whether you want to adopt, or not have any kids at all, it’s completely up to you. He would sit there and rub your back softly, whispering soft words of affirmations to you (and himself too) if you were sad about the situation. “It’s gonna be okay, it will all workout doll.”

Ronald Speirs: He’s a bit like Gene here. He promised you to be there “In sickness and in health” and he’s completely sticking to that. You’re his girl/boy, nothing comes between that. If you had felt saddened by the situation he would offer to buy you comfort food, or take you out on a nice date, anything to get it off of your mind. “It’s alright honey. We’re gonna be a-okay.” He’s so soft and patient with you during this time, it’s sweet enough to make you cry.

Johnny Martin: “Oh sweetheart, don’t be sad. We will figure this all out.” He might be just a tad bit snappy at times, but when you tell him the news he is as gentle as a sheep. He will stay there with you, hold your hand softly and take care of you for as long as need be. It absolutely breaks his heart to see you sad and he wants to do anything to make you feel better.

Skinny Sisk: He looks like a sad puppy dog when you tell him the news. He feels sad for you mostly. If you had wanted to be a parent he would hug you so tight and tell you how sorry he is about all of this. He would try taking you out and do all sorts of things to cheer you up (even if that meant making himself look like an absolute fool). He’s the most supportive s/o ever so it just makes your guys’ relationship stronger in the end.

David Webster: He doesn’t really even know what to think about the whole situation. All he knows is that he needs to be there by your side and support you through it all. If you do get really saddened by it, I think he would try and read to you to help make you feel better. Just hearing his soft voice tumble through the words is enough to make you feel better than you were before.

Chuck Grant: He gives you the most “I'm sorry” look ever. He doesn’t say a word to you, just takes you in and holds you close, making sure to plant soft little kisses on your head while you let out all of your emotions. “We’re gonna get through this baby, you and me together.” He keeps close to you for the next couple of weeks, watching you almost like a hawk because he just wants to take care of you and make sure you are okay.

Buck Compton: “I'm so sorry sweet girl/boy. Is there anything I can do?” He doesn’t even really care for kids at the moment, just making sure you are okay is his top priority. If you had wanted kids, he would keep apologizing to you over and over about how sorry he was. He would give you some of his famous bear hugs when you’re feeling sad about it. If you didn’t want kids or a family he would be understanding of it, bc I mean kids are a LOT of work.

Thank you again for your request and support! If you enjoyed this, please like or reblog if you can! Love you all! 🥹🤍

[danopdf]

hold me, please || winnix angst

warnings: blood, death, mentions of guns and bullets, usual Band of Brothers stuff

a/m: cross-posted to my ao3 <3

============

Lewis runs toward him, shouldering his gun, breathing heavy.

Dick watches from his place in the trees, crouched in the foliedge.

Shots whizz by Lewis as he runs faster, faster, faster. His arms pumping, ducking his head as single shots speed past him.

Dick watches him flinch, his shoulders jumping to his ears. His pace getting faster with each near miss. Lewis weaves left and right, but his main path stays the same- toward him.

The way the bullets are hitting the ground around Lewis, Dick knows it’s not bad aim; the group of Germans they unknowingly wandered into the path of are putting Lewis right where they want him, running for Dick and his place of cover right inside the tree line.

“come one, come on come on come on!” Dick repeats to himself like a mantra.

Lewis is no more than a few paces from him, the bullets flying by Nix’ head with a fizzing sound, each impact creating a puff of dust in the trees just centimetres from Dicks head, but he doesn’t flinch the way Lewis does, not when he’s so close- close enough Dick can hear his gasping breath and the heavy thumping of his boots on the damp grass, close enough that Dick can hear the strangled choking sound Lewis makes when the bullet finds its home in his chest and sends him stumbling into the safety of Dick’s arms that instinctively wrap around Nix.

If Dick was able to focus on something other than the scared gasping breaths Lewis is taking in his arms, he would hear the group of Germans on the ridge cheering like they shot a prize stag.

“Lew!” Dick let’s himself fall, cradling Lewis’ head in the crook of his elbow as they unceremoniously crumble to the cedar needle covered ground- unable to stop Lewis’ legs from giving out under his own weight.

Nix can’t feel anything other than the rapid ride and fall of Dick’ chest against his, and the way the redheads hands fumble with the strap of his M1- that’s surely digging into one, or both of them, not that he can tell through the white hot searing pain that’s stemming from his stomach.

“where- where are you hurt? where did they get you?” Dick is plucking at the plethora of straps and buckles on Nix’ pack, taking off each piece and throwing it behind him, just as he had done with both of their M1s.

Lewis doesn’t respond, he simply eyes the ever growing patch of red under his palms, the blood starting to pool over the edges of his fingers.

“oh my god-“ Lew starts to shift and squirm in Dick’ hold, pushing himself back- as though he could get away from the blood and pain if he moved back far enough, “Dick they- I’ve been- fuck!”

Dick’ follows Nixon’ gaze and the sight of his blood spreading through his jacket, turning it a sickly reddish-copper colour that makes both of their stomachs drop, and the colour drains from Dicks face faster than the colour from Lewis’ does.

Winters’ hands are moving before his brain can catch up to the situation. He makes quick work of untucking Nix’s many shirts- an action Dick would normally take great time and pleasure in doing- and placing his own, larger hands over the bullet hole, pressing his body weight onto Lew’s torso.

“you’re okay- I got you, don’t worry Lew-!” Dick can feel his throat getting tight as he watches Lewis writhe and whine from the pain and fear, Dicks words of comfort falling on deaf ears.

“just- just press here, I’m gonna get you fixed right up…” Winters grabs the brunets fumbling hands and presses them to his shuddering stomach.

Dick rips the sulfa pack open with his teeth and pushes Nix’ hands away to shake the powder onto the pool of blood. The sulfa greedily drinks the blood and mixes together, creating a curdled batter texture that immediately turns pink, then a deep red before being over taken and turned into more of a thick liquid than a paste.

“Dick, it-t’s not stopping-!”

He opens a second sulfa pack, spreading it over the bubbling mass of the first pack with a small wince, “I know, I know Lew, don’t worry it’s gonna stop…”

Winters digs his sticky hand into his pack, pulling out a string of gauze and shoving it into the bullet hole with his long fingers. His other hand goes to pin Lewis down my the hip when he starts to buck, trying to get the sting of the sulfa off him like a bucking bronco.

“Jesus- Dick stop! Stop it, it hurts- it hurts!” Lewis chokes through thick, choking sobs.

If Dick wasn’t so focused on the feeling of his partners blood seeping through the cracks in his fingers, he would have asked Lew if he cried and whined like this when he had broken his arm as a child when he fell off of a horse- instead Lewis asked him, “I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

“Do not say that, you’re going to be fine- you are fine Lew.”

Lewis chuckles wetly, “Lying never was a good look on you Dick…” his words are slurring and his vision is starting to waver at the edges, making the cloudy light waver around Dick like a halo.

Dick knows he’s too far gone, and Lewis has known it since he stepped foot in Taccoa.

Lea’s voice startled Dick and he rips his gaze away from the steady river of blood that pulses and send out a new wave with each breath- the blood seeping into the ground and creating a sickly copper mud that dirties Dicks knees, and surely seeps through his pants- I’ll have to bathe later, he thinks to himself.

“You know…I-i always thought about dying…” Lew smiles up at him, his teeth a shade of pink that has Dicks stomach turning, “but now-…now that it’s happening I’m not ready.”

Dick runs his fingers through his soft black hair, matting the few out of place pieces with Lewis’ blood.

“you’re not going to die Lew, don’t sa-“

“yes I am Dick, so jus-…” Lew takes a breath that rattles his chest, “so just hold me…please…”

And Dick does.

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

Fire On Fire: Chapter 23

(Ch. 22) ... (Ch. 1)

II Gallery II Symbol Guide II

Summary: "I think Hell is something you carry around with you, not somewhere you go." - Neil Gaiman

WARNINGS: Angst, Violence, Torture, etc. It's an Espionage Thriller based on real-life spies so expect everything that comes with that

Fun Fact: Intelligence operatives on all sides of the war were not granted POW status & if caught, were considered to have "forfeited all rights".

Taglist: @latibvles @softguarnere @brassknucklespeirs @mccall-muffin @lieutenant-speirs @emmythespacecowgirl @holdingforgeneralhugs @parajumpboots @hxad-ovxr-hxart @sleepisforcowards @indigo-luvers @ax-elcfucker-blog @chaosklutz @mads-weasley @vibing-away @eightysix-baby @ithinkabouttzu

Contemporary: October 25th, 1944. Driel, Netherlands.

Alix had been in so much pain during the reduction that she had completely forgotten about her mail. 

Eager for a distraction, she leaned over and stretched her arm to retrieve the newest Captain America comic her aunt had sent.

Anything to keep her focus off Joe and the girlfriend he'd left behind. 

But stubborn as he was, the scrappy young paratrooper couldn't even let her read in peace. 

"Those all yours?" Joe piped up conversationally, referring to the small stack of comic books on the ground by their feet. 

Alix nodded stiffly, keeping her eyes glued to the page in front of her.

Minimal responses, she thought to herself. If he gets bored, he'll leave. 

But he didn't. 

“Mind if I borrow one?” 

"Sure thing," Alix replied dismissively, hoping the comic might distract him.  

But Joe Liebgott was nothing if not persistent.

"Wonder Woman still your favorite?” he inquired as he sifted through the pile, picking up a copy of Super Comics for himself and hopping up to join her on the fallen tree trunk. 

"Didn't see any."

"Finished those first," Alix mumbled carelessly before the implication of his words set in, causing her head to jerk up instantly, dark eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Wait, how did you know they're my favorite?”

Joe shrugged and smiled fondly, the slight brush of his arm against hers causing Alix's heartbeat to stutter. 

"They were on your bedside table when we hooked up once, a whole fuckin' stack of 'em 'bout this high." 

Questions buzzed through her mind like the tap-tap-tap of a stock market ticker but she tried to silence them and focus on the page in front of her… 

The same page she'd been staring at for twenty minutes.

"I don't remember that," the spy stated bluntly and Joe rubbed the back of his neck, scruffing up some of his thick brown hair. 

"Well what's the last thing you do remember?" 

Alix blinked, caught off guard.

"Well…it comes back in flashes," she divulged slowly, closing the comic book and putting it to the side.

"Bits and pieces. It's hard to explain...."

Joe too laid his comic book down and angled himself so he was facing her more directly, an unexpected gentleness in his soft brown eyes.

"I got time."

╔══ •🖤🖤•🖤🖤•🖤🖤• ══╗

2 Years Earlier: July 1942. OSS Compound, United States.

"Psst!" Alix whispered, rolling over to face the girl next to her. “What’s your name?”

The young woman in the neighboring cot, who was nimbly weaving her choppy red hair into a thin plait by moonlight, finished adding the next few strands before responding simply:

“Patrice.” 

But the Italian-American shook her head. 

“Not your school name, your real name.” 

The redhead’s eyes went wide and she momentarily ceased her work. 

“You crazy, couillonne?” she hissed, a moonbeam highlighting the incredulous expression on her freckled face.

 “We only supposed to use the names we been assigned while training, ‘member? Only people who can know our real names are the director an' our handlers! It's part of the trainin', lettin' go of who we were.”

"Yeah well, fuck that," Alix replied fiercely.

"I'm not going to become some nameless drone for them to mold. I'm a fucking person and I’m damn well gonna remember that." 

"Mais..."

The girl next to her quickly glanced around to ensure no one was listening before leaning forward and gesturing for Alix to get closer.

"Name's Jennie," she whispered conspiratorially, breaking into a toothy grin as though the pair were sharing a secret.

"Jennie Perrault." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2 Years Earlier: October 1942. OSS Compound, United States.

“Any idea where they’re going to send you?” Alix asked, her mother tongue flowing as easily as her strikes. "After the SOE, that is."

“Dunno…France… Hopefully?" Jennie panted back in stuttering Italian, making a face after a lightning-quick tap to the jaw from Alix.

"Couillonne," the farm girl sassed, causing Alix to snicker as she blocked her friend’s kick to her abdomen, giving her a firm shove away. 

She didn't have to be fluent in Louisiana French to understand that word.

With a toothy grin to show there were no hard feelings, the redhead easily used her superior size to close the gap again, maneuvering behind and forcing the smaller woman into a chokehold. 

Having been a farmhand back in Louisiana, Jennie was much taller and stronger than Alix but what she lacked in height and muscle mass, the Philly-born Italian more than made up for with speed and agility. 

A couple well-placed elbow strikes to the diaphragm loosened the hold instantly and Alix was confronted with a split-second decision:

If she subdued her opponent, then Alix herself would be punished for not following through. 

But if she went for the kill, Jennie would be punished for losing the bout.

The choice was clear.

Sliding out from under the hold, Alix seized one of Jennie’s hands and clung tightly even as she flung the redhead out in front of her. 

As Jennie landed on her knees, Alix wrenched the taller girl’s arm into a near-hyperextension behind her with a boot lightly placed on her back to keep her bowed.

The shriek of a whistle cut through the tension. 

"Marianna!!" 

Alix's head swiveled at the sound of her school name and she instantly dropped Jennie's arm, removing her foot and allowing her friend to silently scramble into line beside her.

Major Larsson, the grizzled Special Operations Branch instructor supervising their training, stalked over from his place against the wall with his arms crossed and an expression of displeasure twisting his weather-beaten features.

There was an uneasy silence as the other seven trainees waited with bated breath. It was just another close-combat exercise but even so: Alix had disobeyed a direct kill order and for that, there would be consequences. 

"You had the perfect opportunity for a kill-blow and what, you just couldn't be bothered?!” the instructor bellowed.

“Marianna, are you woefully inept or are you trying to piss me off?!" 

Alix clasped her hands behind her back tightly and anchored her feet to the ground like the proud roots of a tree. 

"Neither, sir!" she shouted back, meeting the major’s icy gaze without blinking. 

Larsson crossed his arms and uttered only one word: "Explain."  

"Sir, the target was already completely immobilized. One well-placed kick to the spine and she would’ve been paralyzed. I didn't find it necessary to go further, sir." 

"It's always necessary," he spat contemptuously and Alix chewed on her bottom lip silently, trying not to cringe from the acrid stench of cigar smoke hitting her face.

"You're an assassin, Marianna, not a goddamn Girl Scout! Your job is not to subdue, your job is to eliminate! How do you expect to perform in your interrogation tests if you can't stomach a kill?"

Out of the corner of her eye, the Philadelphian just barely caught the guilt-ridden glance Jennie was shooting her way but she ignored it.

Alix had made her choice and she wasn't sorry.

As their instructor initiated the call-and-response cadence that had become second nature since their first day, all eight of the trainees jolted into focus.

"Sparrows show–”

“No fear!”  

Larsson inclined his head ever so slightly and prompted again, barking, 

"Sparrows show--"

"No weakness!"

"Sparrows show--"

"No mercy!"

Following a brusque nod of approval, the instructor abruptly circled back to Alix.

“Mercy has no place here, Marianna," he reiterated, lips curling slightly into a sneer. 

"And if I see you holding back again, you will not have a place here either. Is that understood?" 

"Yes Instructor!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2 Years Earlier: December 1942. OSS Compound, United States.

Even with his back to her, Alix could still feel Nixon rolling his eyes at her when she crept up behind him for what had to be at least the fourth or fifth time.

“I heard your approach,” he droned in a bored-sounding monotone as she froze in her tracks. “Do it again.”

“We’re on a wooden floor and I’m in boots,” the trainee reminded him testily and as if on cue, one of the floorboards let out a squeak. “I’m trying to be as quiet as I can.” 

“Well ‘trying’ isn’t good enough,” Lieutenant Nixon snapped with his usual imperiousness but Alix could still hear the rising frustration in his voice.

“Do it again.”

“Sir,” the girl asked in a voice dripping with bitterness. “Am I ever going to get to actually perform the maneuver?”

“When you stop fucking up the approach,” was the clipped response.

“Stay low and I don’t want to hear even one goddamn creak behind me, is that clear?”

 

“...Yes sir.” 

It took three more attempts but by locating the creaky floorboards, she finally was able to shift her weight around them to approach without a single sound. 

Springing at her handler, she looped the garrote wire around his neck and kicking his knee out, easily bringing him down to the ground with the ligature tightly wrenched in place.

“Well-executed, Marianna!” Instructor Hartman cheered as he passed by. 

But as soon as she obeyed her case officer’s signal to release, Nixon was already back on his feet and back to criticizing her.

“Congratulations,” the Lieutenant remarked sarcastically. “You successfully took down a statue. Now let’s see you do it when I’m struggling.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1 Year Earlier: December 1943. SOE Compound, United Kingdom.

The near-stillness of the dank basement was interrupted only by two things: 

The drip-drip-drip of a leaking pipe and the stomach-churning sound of an interrogation in progress.

"I'll ask again, Franz,” Alix intoned, scrutinizing the prisoner’s bruised face intently. “Who were the messages for?" 

The blond youth only grunted in reply, shifting in the wooden chair as he made a futile attempt to loosen his bindings, and Alix slapped him across the face with a resounding Smack! that seemed to echo around the cold, isolated chamber. 

“Answer the question." 

Instead, the restrained SD operative spat at her, flecks of cherry-bright blood speckling the front of her shirt.

Thwack! 

Alix backhanded the courier this time with such force that the trainee could feel the ache settling deep into her wrist as his head snapped to the side. 

“Mind your manners.” Her dark eyes narrowed.

“And either tell me what I want to know or join your buddies out back in the boneyard.”

In response, the eighteen year old spat again, on the ground this time, and a couple bloodied teeth tumbling to the floor by the chair leg as he turned his head away. 

“I have nothing to say."

“Dannazione!” Alix swore in frustration before seizing the teenager by his collar and shaking him forcibly to get her point across.

“I am your lifeline here, kid,” she hissed desperately. “Do you understand that? All you have to do is give me a name and this all stops!”

Even from his watering eyes, the eighteen year old gave her a scathing glare.

“Deutschland must live, even if I must die,” he declared vehemently, parroting the slogan Alix recalled seeing in some of the confiscated Nazi propaganda they’d found on prisoners.

But before Alix could attempt to talk some sense into him, a sharp reprimand pierced the air:

“Marianna!”

And her shoulders sank. 

It was too late.

Taking a deferential step back as she listened to the clack-clack of Instructor Larsson making his way downstairs from the observation deck, the trainee could already feel the contempt emanating from the former commando.

Larsson was a good six inches taller than her, not to mention broader, and upon seeing him, the bound courier began to struggle harder against his restraints.

“I’ve had enough of you mollycoddling the boy," the instructor snapped. "Get on with it, will you?" 

"Get on with what, sir…?" Alix inquired, the sick feeling in her stomach only growing stronger. 

"It appears the prisoner has no intel. Maybe we sho–”

“No intel that he’s willing to share,” Larsson corrected, rudely silencing her with a raised hand. 

“And if you don’t wish to be removed from the program just before you're due in the field, it’d be wise of you to get me the information I requested, whether from him or one of the others.”

Alix felt her blood turn to ice at the implication and she clasped her hands tightly behind her back, having never felt more rigid in an at-ease position.

“What would you recommend, sir?” she asked, chewing anxiously on her bottom lip and praying to God that he wouldn’t say it.

But as usual, no one was listening to her prayers. 

Digging into his pockets, Instructor Larsson produced a pair of pliers and a handgun, both of which he held out to her. 

“Either start pulling teeth or put a bullet in his brain and move on to the next,” the commando ordered. “I know which I would choose. and it isn't the revolver.”

 Alix balked.

“But sir–” the trainee blurted out before she could stop herself. “He’s just a courier!”

He’s just a kid.

“He’s a Kraut,” the instructor snarled. “And you are training to be a Kraut-killer, are you not?"

"Yes sir."

"Then do your job."

With trembling hands, Alix picked up the gun, the harsh glare of the overhead lamp reflecting brutally off the barrel.

It was already loaded.

Her final test: her first kill.

Alix swallowed hard, forcing the rising bile back down her throat as she watched the SD's errand boy glare daggers at her from swollen eyes.

There was no anguish or fear visible on his face, only contempt, and Alix couldn’t help but wonder what kind of an ideology would fill children with such vitriol. 

He was only eighteen, after all, nothing more than a fanatical schoolboy playing spy, running errands for the Siecherheitsdienst without any comprehension of the gravity of his situation.

Alix felt sick. Surely if these kids had been indoctrinated so fast, there had to be a way to snap them out of it just as quickly. But–

"We have more prisoners for interrogation, Marianna,” Instructor Larsson barked, interrupting her thoughts as he scribbled something down inside her file, likely a disciplinary notice. “Get it done.”

In the back of her mind, Alix wondered sadly if Jennie’s last round of interrogations had been so young.

She didn’t know if she wanted the answer.

Was this what the Sparrow Program had been preparing her for all that time? Years of grueling mental and physical training just to become the glorified executioners of brainwashed teenagers?

Alix forced the thought out of her mind and raised the pistol just as the boy cried out the beginnings of a Sieg Heil.

He never finished it.

╚══ •🖤🖤•🖤🖤•🖤🖤• ══╝

[kindsummer]

i'm driving past ghosts - kindsummer

If love could have saved you, you would have lived. Lewis remembered how irrationally angry he had been when his father chose that specific epitaph for Blanche’s headstone. His sister had killed herself, and Stanhope had decided that irony was worth the esteem from his wealthy social circle. Despite Blanche having an incredibly small social circle, the funeral had been as widely attended as their mother’s a few years before. The flashbulbs of paparazzi’s cameras had blinded Lewis when he’d given the eulogy, but he’d powered through, his teeth gritted and his jaw clenched so tightly it was sore afterward.

[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.

[mads-weasley]

Epiphany Pt. 1: Enchanted

Lewis Nixon x Reader

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: heyyy guys! i've decided to start a lewis nixon series!! and yes, the chapter titles are all taylor swift songs. i'm super excited to post this first chapter! please enjoy and let me know what you think! hbo owns the rights, and this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Arriving at Camp Toccoa to join Easy Company, (y/n) (y/l/n), a participant in a new WAC program, has her first encounter with the men of Easy.

It was a hot and unbearable day under the Georgia sun when (y/n) (y/l/n) arrived at Camp Toccoa. She tried to ignore the looks she got from the men as she rumbled by in a jeep, but what she couldn’t ignore was the rambling of her driver.

“Hi,” he introduced, glancing over at her. “The name’s Lorraine. Well, it’s Gerald, but everyone calls me Lorraine.” 

She shot him a kind smile. “Nice to meet you, Gerald. (Y/n) (y/l/n). I’m part of the Athena program.

“I haven’t heard of that.”

“Well,” (y/h/c) began. “it’s a new part of the WAC that’s sending a few women into the Army as a sort of trial run for the future.”

A look of disbelief passed over his face before he reigned it in quickly. “What made you want to join up, then?”

“Well, who wouldn’t after Pearl Harbor?” She asked, wiping sweat from her forehead.

Lorraine simply nodded and kept his eyes on the road, almost as if he was contemplating a woman’s place in war. To (y/n)’s relief, he chose to keep his conclusion to himself. Vest turned down another long dirt road that seemed to lead directly to the base of a mountain she assumed was the famous Curahee. With a deep breath, (y/n) silently prayed she had the strength to prove to him and everyone else that women belonged in the army; that she belonged.

The morning after Sobel’s canteen tirade, Winters and Nixon were in line for breakfast in the mess hall, trying to figure out what to do about their CO.

“So, what did you do?” Lew asked, walking toward an empty table. There were times when he was thankful he was in intelligence instead of with the rest of the men, and most were because of the hell Sobel put them through.

Dick trailed him with a sigh. “Picked six men and gave them latrine duty.” 

“The lucky six?”

“McDonald, Toye, Perconte, Lipton, Muck, and Guarnere,” he stated, sitting across from Lew. 

“Why them?”

“It was their turn.”

Nix chuckled, looking down at his messy food in thought. It was his job to know things, and he happened to hear about a controversial topic flowing down the ranks. “Hey, have you heard about the new WAC program integrating women into the Army?”

“I’m glad you mentioned it. Our own Athena participant should be arriving at 16:00.”

Lew’s head shot up. “In Easy?”

“Yep.”

Lew didn’t have anything against women in the military but also didn’t know how the men would handle it. “What do you think about it?”

“Well,” Dick began, putting down his utensils softly. “I’m trying to have an open mind, but I’m worried about some of the men.”

Nix nodded and took a sip of coffee with a smirk. “We’ll just have to wait and see, then.”

Little did he know that later that day, his life would change forever.

Lorraine and (y/n) arrived at Colonel Sink’s office a few minutes after 16:00, and the woman was almost sick to her stomach with anxiety. While Lorraine was inside informing Sink of their arrival, she tried to calm herself down. All she wanted was to make an excellent first impression on the Colonel and her superiors.

Lorraine returned and ushered her into the small building serving as Sink’s quarters. (Y/n) followed him down a hallway to a single office room. He nodded and closed the door behind her once she entered. The woman turned and raised her hand to salute him.

“Ah, Miss (y/l/n),” Sink called, words dripping with his North Carolina drawl as he held his hand out. “At ease. Welcome to Camp Toccoa.”

She shook it firmly, praying he overlooked their clamminess. “Thank you, sir. I’m happy to be here.”

Sink gestured for her to sit as he took a seat at his desk, which was neatly arranged in piles of folders and other stationery. “When I first heard about the Athena Project, I didn’t know what to think. My wife was the one who showed me that women have the same right to serve their country as us men. She’s a modern Abigail Adams if you understand my meaning.”

“Yes sir,” (y/n) replied.

He interlocked his fingers above the desk. “If I may ask, what made you volunteer for the program?”

“Well, sir,” she spoke softly, willing her voice to stay strong. “My brother was stationed on the Arizona at Pearl Harbor. He was 20. I couldn’t let the opportunity to follow his footsteps pass by.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Thank you for your family’s sacrifice.”

(Y/n) wanted to respond, but her throat seemed to close up on her. Unable to answer, she nodded stiffly, willing the tears from her waterline.

He noticed her distress and cleared his throat suddenly. “Let’s get to it, shall we? You’ll be in Easy Company of the 101st Airborne. You won’t get any special treatment, but we’ll try to accommodate you as much as possible.”

The door scraped open behind (y/n), and she resisted looking back at the newcomer. The footsteps sounded like a single person, and she hoped they wouldn’t catch on to her moment of emotion. Luckily, Sink addressed them, giving her time to gain control of herself.

“ Winters, where’s Lieutenant Sobel?” He asked with furrowed brows. “He’s supposed to be here.”

 Dick spoke up. “I don’t know, sir. I last saw him in the mess hall around noon.”

With a huff, Sink rose and introduced her. “Lieutenant, this is (y/n) (y/l/n), our Athena participant.”

The redhead smiled politely. “Dick Winters. Nice to have you with us, (y/l/n).”

“Hi,” she nodded, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you, Lieutenant. Call me (y/n).”

Sink led them out of the office and into the main room of the building. “Lieutenant Winters here is going to show you around camp before supper.”

From there, the pair walked around the camp, and Dick informed her of their daily training routine, as well as the expectations of Easy company. Toward the end of their tour, he asked about her family back home and was surprised that she dodged the subject before having to answer. Sensing her discomfort, he made a mental note to not bring it up anymore. 

Before they knew it, it was 18:00, and supper was being served at the mess hall. Dick led her to the large building and ushered them inside. When (y/n) walked into the room, the stench of sweat and body odor mixed with food hit her like a bus. Bile rose in her throat, and it was all she could do to keep from throwing up. 

‘Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up,’ her mind repeated, eyes sinking to the floor.

Dick chuckled beside her. “You get used to the smell,” he quipped. “Let me introduce you to some of the men.”

Before he could take her to them, a shorter brunette man with a boyish look walked up to them, a sly grin on his face. “Lieutenant Winters, sir,” he saluted. “George Luz, ma’am. We’re all glad to have you.”

Two faces popped out from behind his shoulder with smiles of their own. Without missing a beat, George rolled his eyes and pointed at them. “These two idiots are Skip Muck and Alex Penkala.”

Skip smacked him on the back of the head with an aggravated look on his face. “You’re the one that had to be the first to meet her, George, so really, we���re not the idiots here.”

She squinted her eyes as giggles burst from her lips when Luz’s face turned beet red at the comment. She knew immediately that she liked the trio.

“Nice to meet you, too, boys. You can call me (y/n).”

Penkala’s eyes widened and glanced at the two in faux horror. “She called us boys.”

“We are boys.”

“We’re boys,” George mocked. “No, Skip, were men.” 

“How old are you three anyways?” She asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Alex was 18, Skip was 20, and George was 21. After hearing about their ages, she realized that they were just boys. They still had most of their lives to live, much like millions of other soldiers in their position. Much like her.

Dick left (y/n) with the trio and went to attend to his other duties. Once they took a seat, the boys started rambling on about everything from their terrible CO to the best types of slop they were given at mealtimes. (Y/n)’s eyes wandered around the room for a moment before another pair caught hers. When their eyes met across the crowded mess hall, everything around them seemed to vanish as time slowed to a standstill.

The soft, warm gaze in his eyes felt like a long-lost memory, a memory that had been tucked away in the depths of her heart, waiting for the perfect moment to resurface. (Y/n)’s heart fluttered as she felt an undeniable pull toward him, and she couldn’t help but be captivated by the genuine curiosity and surprise that emanated from his gaze. The man was, without a doubt, the most attractive man she’d ever laid eyes on, and her heart skipped a beat at the realization.

His eyes seemed to whisper, “Have we met?” And (y/n) found herself asking the same question.

She held the stranger’s gaze for a few seconds before he slowly got up and started making his way to her. As he approached her, she noticed him anxiously tousling his well-groomed dark chestnut hair with his hand. (Y/n) was suddenly self-conscious and did the same, taming her hair ruined by the southern humidity. Her heart was racing in her chest, almost anticipating the life-changing moment that was about to happen. 

Making it to her table, Lewis grinned and sat beside her, his smile making her blush slightly. “It seems George likes you almost as much as he likes Rita Hayworth,” he said.

The soldier scoffed, ”No offense, (y/n), but Rita is the love of my life. She may not know who I am, but I plan to change that someday. It’s going to happen. Just wait and see, right Penk?”

Alex raised his eyebrows and nodded reluctantly, “Absolutely, buddy. You’ll show her what she’s been missing.”

(Y/n) pressed her lips tightly together, stifling the sound of her impending laughter. She scrunched her nose slightly as if trying to hold back a giggle. Her efforts, though valiant, were ultimately futile as a few muted snickers managed to slip through her defenses.

She soon gave up, and her laughter filled the air. He couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the sight before him. (Y/n)'s face lit up with joy, and her eyes sparkled with delight. The sound of her laughter was infectious, and he found himself chuckling along, almost entranced by how she expressed her happiness so freely.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, (y/l/n),” George said, getting up from the table. “See you all at breakfast.”

Skip and Alex bid their goodbyes as well, following him out of the mess hall. Realizing it was just her and the handsome soldier beside her, (y/n) turned to him with a smile.

Nix stuck out his hand. “Lewis Nixon. As an intelligence officer, it’s my job to know things, so I can’t believe I don’t know your name.”

(Y/n) couldn’t help but notice a subtle nervousness in his eyes matched with a hint of mischief. “Pleasure to meet you, Lewis. I’m (y/n) (y/l/n), Easy’s Athena.”

“Call me Lew,” he charmed, still shaking her hand softly. “We’re happy to have you, (y/n).”

When the realization dawned upon them that they were still holding hands, shy smiles spread across their faces. Lewis cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Have you met Captain Sobel yet?" He asked, grimacing.

"I don't think so. Is he over Easy Company?"

"Yeah. He's also the biggest jacka-"

"There's no way he's that bad," she interrupted, eyes widening.

Lewis chuckled under his breath. "Trust me. Every Friday night, he makes Easy march twelve miles in full gear, just out of spite."

"Do any other companies march?"

“Nope. Just Easy. And after marching last night, he made Dick make up six infractions and punish the men for it. He ended up giving latrine duty to the men who were on this week’s rotation.”

(Y/n) rubbed a hand down her face, groaning. “Lieutenant Winters didn’t say anything about Sobel when he was showing me around.”

“Well, Dick is pretty straight-laced,” Lewis said shrugging with a smirk. “Not everyone can be a cool, calm, and collected intelligence officer.”

"Someone's ego is a little over-inflated," she laughed, raising her eyebrows at him.

“So, how’re you liki-,” he started to ask but was interrupted by someone calling his name. Following the voice, he looked behind him to see Dick near the doors, motioning him over.

“Well,” Nix sighed, looking back at (y/n) with a sheepish smile. “Duty calls.”

As he got up, she called after him. “See you later, Nix.”

She didn’t miss the lack of a ring on his hand, and for the rest of the night, she replayed the enchanting encounter in her mind. How could a stranger seem so familiar? 

Tag List: @softguarnere @mrsgeorgeluz @flowers-and-fichte @inglourious-imagines @peggyvan @rebeccapearson @hxad-ovxr-hxart

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

[rogue-durin-16]

HEAD-TO-HEAD (part III/?)

Summary: Joe thought she was pretty. Had he just said that, things might have been different for them. Maybe they wouldn't have gone head-to-head at each other for three years like it was a contest.

Pairing: Joseph Liebgott x Reader

Genre: angst splattered with fluff/rivals to lovers

Tags:

Head-to-head: @derersketnoget

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: language, sexism, harassment, violence

A/N: this took longer than I wanted to because adulting sucks and my life is currently a roller coaster. Not even emotionally, it's just dead ass going off the rails in every way. In case 2024 is being a bitch to you too, have some Liebgott content to brighten up your day, enjoy <3

Head-to-head masterlist

Band of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"You happy now?" Joe's voice broke the empty mess hall's unusual silence, making me jump ever so slightly before he appeared on my side by the door.

"I gotta put up with you for the night, so no." My eyes landed on him with my last words, making emphasis on my discontentment with the punishment. "I don't get what I did wrong to deserve this."

"Do I spell it out for you?"

"Shut up."

6 Hours Earlier

"Why're you running?"

Running? No, I was not running. The only occasions anyone would see me running were the ones when we went up and down Currahee.

Walking fast? Maybe. Maybe for once I was trying not to get in trouble, even if 'trouble' meant three men choosing to make hell out of my afternoon off just because they knew they could.

"C'mon, doll."

That did it. I planted my feet on the camp's dirt, causing the fastest of the three to bump into me.

"Don't 'doll' me, asshole." I accompanied my statement with a shove on the boy's chest, not strong enough to make him stumble but firm enough to maintain my personal space.

"Feisty one, ain't ya?" The second one to chime into the confrontation circled me to stand by my left. I didn't dignify his prying with my attention.

"What do I call you then, princess?" Bennett, I recalled, was the name of the soldier who was adamant about giving me a pet name.

"Mmm..." I pretended to muse it, my index finger resting atop my lips. "What 'bout you just don't call me? Ever. Problem fuckin' solved."

"Good girls don't swear." I scoffed at the poisonous warning with anything but amusement. "What's funny, doll?"

"Oh, honey, you don't know how good of a girl I'm being right now."

"Ooooh..." He shortened the space between us, hovering as if to make me back against the barracks. Not happening. "Look at her, Smith. So tough."

"Big mouth, but be careful." They were closing on me. It didn't take a genius to see where this was about to go. "Keep running it like that and Easy might find you in a ditch one day."

"Real charmer, aren't you?" The corner of my mouth twitched up briefly, chin held up like I had nothing to lose. "Take it easy, yeah? Might surprise yourself and end up flat on your back."

"That what you think's gonna happen?"

JOE'S P. O. V.

I had been trying to find a half-assed excuse to approach Y/n for a good minute—obviously with no fruition—, when one of the men now crowding her got in her face.

"Goddamn it." I muttered through gritted teeth, tossing my cigarette to the dirt to crush it with my heel before stalking to the group's side. "Back off her! Now."

Y/n's squinted eyes landed on me before I could close the distance. "The hell are you doing?" The tone was quiet and hasty, as if she was ready to start a side fight with me.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I countered, rising my arm between Y/n and Bennett, not turning my head to him briefly. "Don't even think about it."

"This isn't your fight." My attention returned to Y/n with an annoyed huff when she put my arm down.

"Go back where you came from, Liebgott." I didn't even process Smith stepping to me until his hand collided with my shoulder, causing me to bump against the barracks' wall. "We're just having a chat."

I didn't give give it a second thought before pushing Smith back. Hard. "Try that again."

READER'S P. O. V.

The soldier snarled, giving Joe a taunting up-and-down, and swung a fist toward him.

I was acting out of instinct when, without a word, my hand closed on Smith's collar and landed a hard punch that forced him to back off.

"Nobody touches him." My index finger pointed at Joe in an attempt to regain some control of a situation that had already spiraled.

The remaining privates hesitated for an instant —just an instant— after realizing the confrontation escalated in the middle of camp. One way or another, we all were already in trouble.

I guess that's what Bennett was thinking when he attempted to take a swing back at me.

Joe yanked me back by my arm at the same time as Malarkey and Grant sprinted to put themselves between both Bennett and us.

"Hey! Break it up- BREAK IT UP!" Don yelled, struggling to keep back the two privates, although not as much as Grant struggled to keep both me and Joe at bay. "Toye! Bill!"

In a matter of seconds, Guarnere and Toye took on Malarkey's task so the ginger could separate me from Liebgott. I guess, by now, they knew us too well.

"You try that. See where it takes you." Toye grunted, shoving Bennett to the ground with minimal effort. "Get outta here."

"The hell were you two on now?" Guarnere's question almost sounded as a complaint when he turned around.

"You ask her." Joe spat, shaking Grant off.

"Don't put this on me," I pointed an accusatory finger at Joe. "you threw hands first."

"Did you miss the part where he shoved me?"

"Next time don't play hero and maybe you won't get pushed around."

Joe looked away with a sneer. "You're a goddamn idiot, you know that? Do you even know what was about to happen?"

"Don't put it like it was my fault." I heard a muttered curse from someone on my left flank when I pivoted my body to face Joe.

"Y/n." Malarkey placed his full attention on me in a disguised attempt to deescalate the argument. "What happened?"

"I'm a girl surrounded by assholes who don't know when to quit, Malark. That happened." It wasn't meant to land on Liebgott —it really wasn't—, but he took it personally anyway.

"No, what happened is that you don't know how to shut up." It was Joe's turn to step closer, forcing Grant to halfheartedly press a steady hand on his shoulder as a warning.

"And you do?!"

"You know how fights work?!"

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't!"

"Really?! Three against one?! real fuckin' smart!"

"I didn't ask for your opinion, and I sure as hell didn't ask for your help!"

"Alright, you know what—" Joe slapped Grant's hand away.

"Hey!" A flustered Talbert swept in just in time to take a hold of his friend. "Enough!"

"No, let him." I coaxed Floyd, although my eyes stayed locked with Liebgott's. "You're no better than them, you know that?"

"The hell is wrong with you two?" Don's exasperated gaze ping-ponged between us both. "No, seriously. What's gonna happen when we're out there? We're supposed to be a team."

"Don's right." Toye, who rarely showed any interest in whatever spat Joe and I had gotten ourselves into, sounded fairly worried. "You keep this shit up, you're gonna get someone killed."

"What's going on here?" Nixon's voice, despite not holding any scowl, snapped everyone out of the chaotic haze hanging among us. It barely took him a few seconds to pick up on what was going on. "Oh, for Christ's sake... Liebgott, Y/l/n. With me. Now."

With two quiet 'yes, Sir' Joe and I parted ways from our friends to follow the irritated officer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

My eyes traced, distracted, invisible patterns on the wooden floor beneath my half-laced boots. Across from me, Joe toyed with the buttons of his jacket, fingers methodical, as if the world outside didn’t exist.

Around half an hour must have passed since we both finally were able to return to our bunks.

Neither of us had spoken much. At first, it was due to Sobel's orders —'no talking unless it's related to the mess hall's cleaning'—, but as the night unfolded, Joe and I got caught in the quiet haze of fatigue that made talking feel like too much effort.

Funnily enough, as soon as we got the chance to get the rest we needed, our bodies and minds refused to shut down.

Something about the silence felt stifling now, uncomfortable. Maybe it was the fact that we were the only two people awake, or maybe it was the scarce distance put between us.

"You got a fella back home?" Joe's voice cut through the quiet, his tone casual but clear.

Of course he would go there.

"If I had a nickel for every time one of you asked," I muttered, pulling at the knot of my laces. "I think I wouldn’t need a paycheck."

"Didn’t answer the question." he replied, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, eyes sharp on me in that way of his that made anyone feel like they were being measured.

"No, Joe," my negative was a little sharper than I had intended. "Don’t have a fella. Don't need one."

"Huh." he leaned back again, eyes still on me like he was dissecting my words.

The conversation should’ve ended there, but we were tired, and tired people asked questions they wouldn’t normally ask. I glanced up at him, squinting slightly in the dim light.

"What about you, Liebgott? Got a girl waiting on you?"

His digits, now taking unnecessary time with the cuff of his sleeve, paused briefly. "Not anymore."

The shift in his tone caught me off guard. It wasn’t bitter, but it wasn’t light either. It had weight. Enough weight to make me sit up straighter and watch him a little more closely.

"Not anymore." I repeated, letting the words hang there for a moment before tilting my head. "What's that mean?"

He scratched at the back of his head, fingers combing through his dark hair before resting at the nape of his neck. His gaze stayed casted down on the floor like he was reading something only he could see.

"Eh... Being in love ain't enough sometimes."

"You were in love?" I didn't bother hiding the surprise in my voice.

"Shit, I was married." There was an amused ring to his admission, and even in the darkness of the garrison, I discerned the usual twitch on the corner of his mouth. "What? Surprised?"

I shrugged, kicking off my jump boots. "Wouldn't have pinned you for the married type."

"Yeah, well," he shook off his jacket and bent over to undo his laces. "what about the divorced type?"

His eyes flickered to me, so quickly it might as well have been a trick of my imagination. He wanted to catch my reaction, but didn't want me to do the same with him.

"We were too young. People pull reckless moves when they're hung up on somebody."

A frown he wouldn't catch due to his sudden interest in his boots darkened my expression for an instant. He was justifying himself. Why?

"Won't catch me doing that shit ever again, though."

"What? Falling in love?" After the way his head tilted up to me, I didn't need a verbal answer. "is it that awful?"

It was his turn to furrow his brows. "You never been in love?"

"Nah." I accompanied my curt reply with a denying move before pulling my legs onto the mattress.

"Do yourself a favor," he threw his footwear under the bed and mirrored my posture. "keep it that way."

"Holy shit." I exhaled with a single breathy laugh. "She really fucked you up, huh?" He chuckled, shaking his head without looking at me. "She left you, then."

The loudness of his silence made me wonder if I had pushed it too far. There was no hostility in him, though, only something that could easily pass as discomfort peppered with what I hardly identified as guilt.

"So what? You get burned once and never try again?"

"Damn right." He grunted, laying down and pulling the covers over his lower body. "Love’s a loaded gun. I'm done pulling that trigger."

"You're so dramatic." I murmured with a quiet chuckle, subconsciously following his cue to get some sleep.

Joe propped himself on his elbow to meet my eyes before I could fully recline. "Just wait 'til some douchebag breaks your heart."

"I don't think I'll have time for that anytime soon." I retorted without missing a beat, although there was no illness in my response.

"Smart." He stated after examining whatever glimpse of my frame he could still see. "Smarter than me."

"Don't get cocky, alright?"

"I know."

Joe gave me one last look that seemed more amused than annoyed.

"Night, Liebgott." I simply replied, tucking myself comfortably in my bunk.

"Night, Y/l/n."

[mads-nixon]

Epiphany Pt. 14: Soon You'll Get Better

Lewis Nixon x Reader

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Song Inspo: Soon You'll Get Better: Taylor Swift (feat. The Chicks)

A/N: thanks for being patient with this one, guys! it really hurt me to write this one. this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: Easy finally reaches its breaking point, and (y/n) doesn't realize just how low that could be until tragedy strikes.

Warnings: main character death, intense grief, sorry for the pain guys

JANUARY 10, 1945: BOIS JACQUES, BELGIUM: 0900HRS

“Hey Doc,” Skip whispered as Eugene walked by. “Come here!”

Gene crouched just outside the hole, peering down at (y/n) who was silently sleeping in his arms. “Warren, how ya doin’?”

“Doc, (y/n)’s cast is killing her. Do you have anything for the itch?” Skip asked quietly, concern creasing his brows. “She tried to tear it off last night.”

“Casts ain’t supposed to get wet. That’s why it's itchin’ so much,” he replied, adjusting his helmet with a grimace. “I’ll see what I can do. For now, keep her mind off of it the best you can. She really needs to go back to the hospital.”

Skip thanked him with a nod and then he was gone, his form blurring in the snowfall as he walked away. An exaggerated yawn echoed in the air, and George stretched his arms above his head. 

“It’s somehow even colder than before,” he groaned, pulling his coat closer to his body. 

Muck tugged the blanket around (y/n)’s shoulders and sighed, noticing her cradling her cast in her sleep. “Yeah. It always is.”

George caught his eyes. “How’s she doing?”

“Not good, Luz. Last night…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I’m worried about her. After what happened with Captain Nixon and now this, I don’t know how much more she can take. Her arm isn’t going to get any better if she’s out here trying to pry her cast off.”

“What?” Luz asked, his eyes widening in disbelief. “She tried to pry it off? When?”

“Last night.”

Silence hung in the air as the duo pondered the situation. As much as they wanted (y/n) to be there with them, they knew that she’d be better off at the hospital, healing up properly. 

Skip’s eyes floated to the frozen ground of the foxhole as he spoke sadly. “She needs to go back to the hospital.”

“Yeah,” Luz agreed. “She’s not gonna like it, though.”

The pair quickly became quiet as (y/n) stirred and blinked her eyes open, slowly becoming aware of her surroundings. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Skip greeted from above her as she sat up.

George chimed in with a teasing grin. “We were starting to think you were going to sleep through the whole war.”

Laughter bubbled up from within her, and for a brief moment, the itch in her cast was forgotten. “Well, I can’t have that now, can I? What would you knuckleheads do without me?”

“Have some peace and quiet,” Penkala grumbled, squinting his eyes in the bright morning light. “How’s the wrist today?” 

George and Skip shot him a pointed glare, and (y/n) sighed, looking down at her casted arm. “About the same, but it’s not bothering me right now.”

Wanting to steer clear of the subject, Skip sat up against the frozen dirt wall. “(Y/n), did I ever tell you about how I swam the Niagra River once?”

Alex ran a hand down his face with a groan. “Not this story again!”

“No, you didn’t tell me that,” she grinned, rolling her eyes.

Skip ignored Penkala’s outburst and continued his tale. “It was a bet, so I went ten miles up from the falls and started across. The current was so strong that it must have carried me at least two miles downstream before I got across. But I got across.”

(Y/n) stared at him in disbelief. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Oh, come on,” he defended. “Let me finish the story and then you can complain about how much of an idiot I am. These two have already said enough on the matter.

“I could always say more, Muck,” George chimed, smirking as his voice shook from the shivers that wracked his body.

“Whatever, Luz. Shut up and let me finish,” Skip grumbled. “Now, personally, I didn’t think it was all that stupid, but my mom, my sister, Ruth…they gave me all kinds of hell.”

The woman buried her face into her scarf, the scent…his scent…long gone as she envisioned his story in her mind. “Well, I would’ve, too! It was a stupid thing to do, Skip. Based on what you’ve told me, I bet Ruth was close to throwing you over the falls for doing something like that.”

“Well, luckily she didn’t,” he smiled, his voice softening as he looked down at the ground. “Faye was not happy.”

Seeing her friend so helplessly in love, (Y/n) couldn’t help but smile. 

“Sweet Faye Tanner,” George drawled, winking at him.

Rolling his eyes, Skip kicked at George playfully. “Shut it, George.”

“Well,” Alex perked up. “As I said before…they had a point. You’re an idiot.”

The group broke out into chuckles, their icy breaths filling the foxhole. All of them seemed to get lost in their thoughts and silence hung over them. (Y/n) stared out at the frost-laden forest before them, seeing the carnage left by the constant shelling: splintered and fallen trees, splatters of blood against the white snow, and craters filled with frozen dirt. It all put an unsettled feeling in her stomach that she couldn’t quite shake, as if the world was waiting for the opportune time to flip her life upside down. 

Her worries led her mind back to him. She couldn’t help but miss Lew, even though they’d fought. She also knew deep down that he didn’t mean the hurtful things that he said, but the sting of their argument still lingered. Apologizing was what she wanted to do, but the memory of her own outburst left her feeling embarrassed. (Y/n) sighed softly, vowing to herself that when the time presented itself, she would find a way to apologize and let Nix know that she still cared about him more than anything. For now, she waited, her mind filled with thoughts of the man she missed more than words could express.

“Hey, (y/n),” George called out into the silence. “We want to talk to you about something, but please don’t bite our heads off for it, alright?”

Curiosity coursed through her as she raised an eyebrow. “Okay…this sounds an awful lot like an intervention, guys. What’s going on?”

George nodded toward Muck, whose face wore a nervous expression as he spoke. “We think you should go back to the hospital.”

“What?” she asked, her voice tinged with irritation. “Why? I’m doing fine.”

“(Y/n), we know you’re struggling,” he said gently. “We also know that you’re not gonna get any better if you’re here in the cold with a sopping wet cast.”

As much as she hated to admit it, there was some truth in what Skip was saying. Taking a deep breath, she replied, “Look, I get it, okay? This cast is driving me crazy, but I can’t just leave. I’m not gonna leave you guys here.”

Alex chimed in, his voice filled with concern. “You need to heal. Doc said the same thing earlier.”

Muck raised a brow at him questioningly. “You heard that? I thought you were asleep.”

“I’m always listening,” he shrugged with a smirk. “Anyways, we’re just worried about you, (y/n/n).”

(Y/n) frowned as a mix of stubbornness and helplessness washed over her. She knew they had a point, but the thought of returning to the hospital and being separated from them didn’t sit well with her. 

“I just need a bit more time,” she finally admitted. “I’ll get through it.”

Skip exchanged a worried look with George before he spoke, “We know you’re tough, (y/n), but sometimes the smart move is to take care of yourself. It’s not about abandoning us; it's about coming back a hundred percent.”

She turned her gaze to the ground, battling her inner conflict. “I’ll think about it, alright? Just give me a little more time.”

The trio nodded solemnly, realizing that she wouldn’t go unless forced. They had a decision to make, and Skip knew which one he’d make for Ruth. It was the same one he’d make for (y/n).

1900 HOURS

In the chill of their foxhole, Skip couldn’t shake his worry for (y/n). He got out of the foxhole with an “I’ll be back,” and a grunt as he made his way to one of the only people he knew could get her to see reason. The man breathed into his hands, trying to warm them among the constant pinprick sensation in them. 

He pulled his rosary from his pocket, kissed it gently, and began to pray as he walked. “Please help us, God. Help (y/n) to see reason and get the help she needs. It's hard to see the people you love suffer, and I don’t know what else to do. I know you have the power to do anything, Lord, so please change her mind about this. Thank you for keeping us safe, and please continue to do so if it is your will, Father. Amen.”

When Skip made it to the Captain's measly shelter, he found Winters and Nixon pouring over maps in preparation for the upcoming objective. Hearing the crunch of his footsteps, Dick’s head shot up, and a blue-tinged smile formed on his face.

“Come on in, sergeant. What can I do for you?” he asked, folding the maps and laying them on a nearby table.

Skip returned the grin and walked in, taking his helmet off. “Well, sir, I actually came to speak to Captain Nixon.”

At his words, Lew raised a brow at his uncharacteristic serious expression. “Alright,” he replied, guiding Muck outside the tent for some privacy. “What’s going on?”

Skip hesitated for a moment, then decided to give it to him, straight. “It’s (y/n), sir. She’s been going through hell with that cast. Last night, she tried to take it off herself. I had to stop her, sir. Doc says she should go back to the hospital.” 

Nixon’s brows furrowed in worry. He knew firsthand how stubborn and headstrong (y/n) could be, especially when it came to her own well-being. “She what? Why hasn’t she gone back to the hospital?”

Muck sighed, his breath visible in the air. “She doesn’t want to leave us, sir. You know how she gets.”

Lew clenched his jaw in frustration, his thoughts racing. “Where is she now? Is she okay?”

“She’s calmer now, but it’s still bothering her. It’s the worst at night,” Skip admitted. “We’ve tried to convince her to go back, but she says she’ll think about it. We all know she’s already made up her mind.”

Nodding, Nix’s face was etched with deep worry. He could imagine her struggling by herself, and it made his heart ache. “Alright, I’ll try to get her back to the hospital.”

The sergeant sighed in relief, grateful he was stepping in. “(Y/n) probably won’t be happy about it, but it’s for her own good. I’m worried it might be her breaking point, sir.”

Lew patted his shoulder with a nod, his brows pinched in concern. “Thanks for letting me know, Muck.”

He turned to leave but stopped and faced the Captain again with a deep breath. “Sir, I know this may be out of line, but I heard what was said between you last week. You never know what could happen out here, so don’t leave things unsaid.”

Before Nix could respond, Skip was gone, his figure disappearing into the haze of the snowy landscape. His words seeped into Lew’s mind, and he realized he had to speak to (y/n) immediately and make things right. Either one of them could be killed at any moment, and they were just wasting precious time not speaking to the other. 

Returning to the tent, Nix grabbed his rifle and swung it over his shoulder. “I’ll be back, Dick. There’s something I’ve got to take care of.”

“You mean someone?” replied, a knowing smirk on his face.

Nix shrugged as he exited the tent. “Something like that.”

As he navigated the forest to (y/n)’s foxhole, he couldn’t help but dwell on their argument. He knew he had been harsh to her, even if he didn’t mean what he said. He’d called her ‘useless’ for crying out loud. That alone would hurt anyone, much less someone who’s wounded and trying their best to contribute despite that.

Finally, in the distance, he spotted Skip talking with Malarkey, Luz, and Penkala a little ways from their hole. Skip nodded at him, and led the group farther from the hole, wanting to give them actual privacy this time. Approaching her foxhole, he could barely see her huddled silhouette. She didn’t hear him approach, lost in thought or possibly asleep. 

Lew sat down beside her and gazed at (y/n)’s sleeping form. The harsh cold couldn’t deter him from admiring the woman he loved as she lay there, wrapped in her coat and the warm scarf and gloves he had given her. Her features were softened by the dim light of the forest and the redness of her nose gave her an adorable charm that melted his heart. 

He noticed her cradling her injured arm against her chest, the white of the cast peeking out from under her oversized coat and makeshift sock glove. “(Y/n)?” he called softly, his voice cutting through the stillness of the forest.

She stirred, her eyes slowly opening to meet his gaze. Surprise flickered across her face, and she shifted uncomfortably, wanting to meet his eyes but finding it hard. “Hi. I wanted to apologize…for how I acted the other day and how I’ve been acting. I know you didn’t mean it, but it did hurt, Lew.”

Lew felt his heart soften as he heard her words, a wave of relief washing over him. He knew she wasn’t one to apologize easily, and her willingness to do so meant a lot. “Thank you,” he replied quietly, “and I’m sorry too, for what I said. I love you and would never think you’re useless.”

With the tension lifting between them, their gazes finally locked. “I love you, too. I hate fighting,” she whispered, scanning their surroundings quickly. “I’d much rather do this.”

She snaked her good hand around his neck and pulled him closer, connecting their lips. As (y/n) and Nix’s lips met, the world around them faded into the background, and for that brief moment, it was just the two of them in their own world. No war, no Bastogne, no snow…only them. (Y/n) felt the warmth of Lew’s breath against her skin, and the gentle caress of his hand on her cheek sent warmth coursing through her body that she hadn’t felt for weeks. 

As they pulled away, their breaths were slightly ragged, and the icy wind, which had been nipping at their cheeks, was now replaced with a comforting warmth. A soft, affectionate smile played on his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. She returned the smile, a sense of calm she only got around him washing over her. 

With a gentle, lingering touch, Lew’s hand brushed her cheek, before dropping it to hold her hand again. “I’ve been worried about you, (y/n), and I’m not the only one. The guys are concerned, too.” Nix paused. “I know about the cast.”

“What about it?” she asked innocently.

Nix shook his head. “I know it’s bothering you, sweetheart. You don’t have to hide it. I also heard that you tried to pry it off last night.”

“What a traitor,” (Y/n) playfully scowled as she looked over her shoulder at Skip in the distance. 

“I’m serious, (y/n),” Lew pleaded. “You know you won’t get better here.”

She sighed, looking down at the cast. “I’m not going back to the hospital, Lew. I won’t leave you or the guys. I can’t.”

“We’ll manage. And we’ll still be here when you get back,” Lew said as his fingers brushed her cheek, guiding her face to him once more with a voice full of worry. “Please.”

The sincerity in his voice pierced her heart, and for the first time in days, her wrist didn’t feel like the most significant pain. “I’ll think about it,” she conceded. 

With a quick peck on her temple, he pulled her in for a quick hug, muttering in her ear, “If not for me, do it for Muck. He’s about worried sick about you.”

“He told me I remind him of his sister, Ruth,” (y/n) murmured into his neck.

Pulling away, a smirk quirked Lew’s lips. “Good, because I was starting to worry I had some competition.”

“Whatever,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes with a laugh. The pair stood to their feet and made their way toward the huddled group of men. “What did Skip say to you?”

Lew shrugged, his eyes staying forward. “Just that you were struggling and the guys were worried about you. I guess he thought I could talk some sense into you.”

“Good luck with that,” (y/n) chuckled as they neared the group.

Squeezing her upper arm gently, he peered down at her, his cheeks rosy from the frosty air. “Please think about it, for my sake…or Skip’s if that’s not enough. And be careful, you know I love you,” he whispered.

“I will, and I will. Love you, too,” she smiled, her wrist long forgotten as she was under his warm gaze. “Tell Dick hey for me.”

With a firm nod, he slowly turned and started back toward his tented foxhole. (Y/n) watched him go, her heart feeling lighter than before. Things were okay between them again, and it became one less thing she had to worry about.

A voice called her name, breaking her from her stare, and she turned to see Skip waving her over, a grin plastered on his face. Joining the group, she stood between George and Skip, the former in the middle of a great impression of Lieutenant Dike.

“Ah, 1st Sergeant Lipton,” he imitated. “You organize things here, and I’m gonna go for…help. I need to go polish my oak leaf clusters.”

The group broke out into laughter, and (y/n) raised a brow in confusion. “What?” she asked, unable to keep a goofy grin from her lips.

“(Y/n), you’re not gonna believe what I saw. So, you-know-who comes running up to Lipton. He’s got no helmet, no gear, no nothing, and then he says that.”

“What an idiot,” she laughed, throwing her helmeted head back slightly. “I can’t believe he’s still here.”

Skip wheezed beside her, almost doubling over in laughter. “Complete asshole,” he said between laughs. “That’s really good, George.”

Lip cleared his throat behind George and called out to him and beckoned him over. George bid his goodbye and went to talk to Lip, while (y/n), Skip, Don, and Alex did the same. 

“Goodnight, goodnight all,” Mal remarked, walking toward his foxhole. 

Skip wrapped an arm around (y/n)’s shoulder, calling out to his friends. “Yeah, see ya, Luz, see you Malark.”

The trio started to their foxhole in silence, but it was soon broken by Skip’s teasing voice. “Did your Captain talk some sense into you about going to the hospital?” he asked, squeezing her shoulder playfully.

“My Captain?” she teased. “I’m pretty sure he’s your captain, too, Skip.”

He raised his eyebrows skeptically. “Well, I’m not the one necking the guy.”

She gasped and quickly looked around, praying nobody else heard his comment. “Skip!”

“What?” 

Alex chuckled from beside her as he pulled his beanie down over his ears. “Everyone knows it! None of us would ever turn you in, (y/n). You know that.”

“I know, I know,” she sighed, her feet crunching softly beneath her. “And to answer your question, Skip, I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“(Y/n), come on. You’re putting yourself at risk of getting hurt again. Aaaand,” he drawled, “If you go now, you might be back in time to celebrate my birthday.”

“I can’t believe it’s a few weeks til the 31st,” she mused, peering up at him. “You’re turning 23, old man. What would you like for your present?”

“You going to the hospital and getting better would be the best birthday gift,” he answered softly, pulling her closer to his side.

The words hung in the air, resonating in (y/n)’s heart. As she looked at Skip, she saw the earnestness in his eyes and his brotherly smile, and a surge of emotions coursed through her. She realized that her stubbornness might not only be hurting herself but also the people who cared about her. 

“You know what, Skip? I think I can work with that,” she smirked, elbowing his side. “Looks like you’re getting your wi-”

Before (y/n) could finish her sentence, the sky erupted in a deafening roar as artillery shells rained down upon them. Trees, splinters, and the earth trembled beneath their feet with each impact. The world turned to chaos as the air was filled with dust, snow, and the screams of their friends. 

“Incoming!”

Without a second thought, Skip grabbed (y/n)’s arm and took off behind Penkala for their foxhole. With pounding hearts, they sprinted towards the safety of their hole, holding their helmets to their heads. The relentless explosions continued to rock the ground, and (y/n) would have lost her balance if it weren’t for Muck’s grip on her bicep.

Seconds later, they reached the foxhole just in time. The trio jumped down into the hole and immediately ducked in its cover. They peered over the edge at the German’s horrifying display of firepower as they were showered in dirt and wood splinters. Amongst the dust and explosions, they could make out a figure in the distance who couldn’t stay on their feet, falling to the ground every few seconds. They recognized it instantly.

“George!” (y/n) yelled. “Come on!”

Skip and Alex joined in, motioning for George to get in. “Luz!” they cried. “Hurry!”

She watched on for an agonizing moment as George scrambled to his feet but was then knocked down again, and she knew she had to do something. Jumping out of the foxhole, she sprinted toward George, her eyes locked on his figure. Skip reached out to grab her, but she slipped out of his grasp.

“(Y/n), no!” he yelled after her. 

Skip’s heart raced as he watched her run off into the barrage, and panic ate at him. His protective instincts screamed at him to follow her, and in a burst of terror, he attempted to leap out of the foxhole after her. But before he could fully leave the hole, Alex grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back forcefully. 

“Skip, you can’t!” Alex shouted, desperation filling his voice. “You can’t follow her out there!”

Muck’s body twisted and turned in a futile attempt to free himself from his friend’s grip, a mixture of frustration and terror etched across his face. Realizing he wasn’t getting to her, he yelled after the pair. 

“(Y/n)! George!!”

As (y/n) dashed toward George, the world around her seemed to blur in the chaos of the artillery barrage. The deafening roar of exploding shells and the earth-shaking tremors filled the air, making it difficult to hear anything but the explosions and blood pumping in her ears. Every step through the snow-covered forest was a struggle, and her boots almost slipped on the icy ground.

Finally, (y/n) reached his side, her gloved hand wrapping around his arm in a vice-like grip. She yelled, but her voice was lost in the roar of the artillery. The dirt shook beneath them as another shell landed dangerously close, sending them both sprawling to the ground. (Y/n) and Luz frantically crawled forward on their hands and knees, their fingers digging into the frozen earth.

Back in the foxhole, Skip and Alex continued to scream for them, their voices somehow echoing among the chaos. Their pleas turned into frantic cries, “(Y/n)! George! Come on, get in here!”

With each painstaking crawl, the ground continued to shake as explosions sent dirt and shrapnel whizzing through the air. Her breaths came out in ragged gasps, and she kept her eyes on her friends ahead of them. The world around them seemed surreal, with bursts of blinding light and deafening explosions as the artillery barrage continued. It felt like an eternity had passed when they’d almost reached the foxhole. 

“Come on! Come on, Luz! Hurry, (y/n/n)-”

The world seemed to blur as (y/n) and George saw a blinding light, followed by a colossal plume of dirt, debris, and flames engulfing their friend’s foxhole. The two friends who had been calling out to them just moments ago were silenced in an instant. (Y/n)’s surroundings slowed, and for a brief, excruciating moment, everything froze. The deafening roar of the artillery was drowned out by the sound of her racing heart. Her eyes widened, and her breath caught in her throat as she watched the horrifying scene unfold. 

The realization hit her like a freight train, and her vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes. Shock and disbelief passed through her, and her hands trembled uncontrollably. She clamped her gloved hand over her mouth, unable to comprehend what had just unfolded before her eyes. Skip and Alex were gone. Gone. 

“No,” she whispered, her throat tight.

Reality slowly washed over them, and as another shell screamed towards them, George grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the nearest shelter, which happened to be Lip’s hole. Lip pulled (y/n) down into the hole first, wrapping her in his arms as Luz huddled next to them, the barrage continuing.

“Muck and Penkala,” George screamed. 

Lip couldn’t hear him. “What?”

“Muck and Penkala got hit!”

As soon as the words left Luz’s mouth, a shell landed right behind their cover, sending the logs protecting them flying into the air. The men yelled, but (y/n) stayed silent. Her body trembled with each deafening explosion that rocked the earth, and her heart felt like it was tearing apart. The tears flowed uncontrollably, blurring her vision as she cried hysterically into Lip’s shoulder. 

She was crammed between the two men, each covering her the best they could as the assault continued. After a few moments, the world stilled, and a haunting silence hung in the air, a stark contrast to the earlier chaos. 

A whistling sound and a thud echoed through the foxhole, but (y/n) couldn’t bring herself to look up from her sheltered position. George’s movement beside her drew her attention, and she heard the familiar sound of a Zippo being opened, followed by the scent of cigarettes wafting through the air. 

“(Y/n)? You okay?” Lip asked shakily. “You hurt?”

Lip’s concerned voice broke through the somber atmosphere, and he shifted to give her room to breathe. His question echoed in her ears, pulling her back from the brink of despair. She turned her tear-stained face towards him, her watery eyes shimmering in the moonlight. She attempted to respond, but all that escaped her was a shuddering gasp as she shook her head slowly from side to side.

“Skip and Alex,” she croaked, a sob racking through her body as she dropped her face into her hands. “They-”

Carwood’s heart broke for the girl, knowing how close she was to them. “I know, (y/n). I know.”

As she sat there in the foxhole, huddled with Lip and George, the weight of her grief bore down on her, and she couldn’t help but reminisce about the cherished moments she’d shared with her friends. The laughter that was always present in their company, the hilarious stories they swapped, the letters read, and the deep connection they all shared. 

The realization that she’d never again hear Skip’s mischievous teasing or Alex’s sarcasm again unleashed a fresh surge of agony, leaving her feeling utterly distraught. The pain of knowing that Skip would never get to hug Ruth again, or experience the joy of marrying Faye Tanner pierced her very soul. The future he once envisioned had been cruelly snatched away. 

He would never reach the age of 23, and Alex’s life would never extend to the milestone of 21. The cruel hand of fate had robbed them of their dreams and aspirations, leaving (y/n) with a grief-stricken heart, mourning not only their past but also the future that would never come to pass.

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[bloodstainedsaint]

loose lips sink ships (lewis nixon x medic! reader)

summary: lewis nixon's alcoholism has been getting worse. you, a medic of easy company, are responsible for the well-being of the men, so you're sent to babysit look after an inebriated lew.

word count: 2100+

warnings: pathetic attempts (multiple) at comedy, drinking, alcoholism, drunken love confessions, lil pining, lil angst, nixon being a lil shit and a cheater??? but his wife divorces him so idk

notes: sorry if this is sloppy 😭 writing dialogue is hard

Your first time speaking to Captain (actually, you weren't sure of his rank anymore— you'd heard he'd gotten demoted to Battalion S3 by Colonel Sink recently) Lewis Nixon was after Operation Market Garden, where he got lightly burned by a stray shot to his helmet. You recalled it going something like this:

“You’re lucky to be alive, sir,” you said at the aid station where the then Lieutenant Winters had sent Nixon to get his graze checked, though there was really no use for it.

“I sure feel lucky,” he responded with a weird, almost dazed stare at you, as if you were some kind of angel sent from heaven to save him from his minor injury.

You met his eyes with a slightly raised eyebrow and assumed that he was just coming to terms with his brush with death. “You'll be fine, sir. Just try not to be in the trajectory of any other stray bullets, and you'll stay that way.”

He nodded and procured a flask from his pocket. “You drink?”

You narrowed your eyes at the container. “I try not to on the job.”

“Well, cheers to being alive, then,” he said, taking a swig.

“...Cheers.”

Following that encounter, you found yourself worrying about the officer more than you thought was normal— if a medic being especially troubled over one soldier was normal at all. Your eyes would search for him in a sea of people to see how tired or hungover he appeared. Whenever you got a chance to talk to him, you would brew him coffee or tea to help with his hangovers, seeing as medicine was always scarce and never spare enough to freely hand out.

You weren't sure where your worry for his well-being came from, but whatever it was, it wasn't quelled by the way he would ask you to stay and chat while he finished his cup— if you weren't busy, of course. The wry grin he would occasionally flash at you was burned into your mind, and his sardonic wit along with his competence as an officer, regardless of his love for alcohol, was impressed upon you. In these fleeting moments of peace, you learned of his rather privileged upbringing, his military background, and that he had a family waiting for him back home. Despite not even knowing what your own intentions were getting close to him, when he told you that last fact, your heart sank a little in your chest.

Your concern for him grew with the recent news that his alcoholism had reared its head again while the company was sent to idly occupy Germany. Someone had broken into a drugstore earlier that week; you'd suspected it was Lew scrounging around for booze. Though the war was coming to an end, he’d been looking more exhausted and ill-tempered as of late. You had yet to really talk to him about how he was holding up; in the meantime, you had been eyeing him from afar, trying to gauge where he was physically and mentally, your heart breaking at how you rarely saw him smile or laugh anymore. Everyone in the company had changed after Bastogne, but you suspected it was his disastrous third combat jump that prompted him to hit the bottle this time.

Now in Landsberg, you were in the middle of playing cards with some of the men in your billet’s living room when Major Winters knocked on the doorway.

“(Y/N),” he called. “Could I speak with you?”

You placed your cards on the table face up, presenting your good hand to the men who groaned in unison at the sight. “Coming, sir.”

As Winters brought you down the hall, you pondered what could be so important that the Major would come personally to speak to you, of all people.

He stopped in the middle of the hall and turned to you, seeming to have read your mind. “It's about Nixon.”

Your eyebrows creased slightly in concern. “Oh. Nixon.”

“Yeah, you know him?” Winters offered a dry smile that you returned.

“What happened?”

“I'm worried about him. Ever since his jump with the 17th Airborne, he’s been drinking more than usual.”

You sighed and cast your eyes downward. “I've heard.”

“I’d like you to look after him for a while. For tonight, at least. Make sure he doesn't drink himself into a coma.”

“Me?” You looked back up at him. “Why not Doc Roe?”

“You’ve been taking care of him for a while, (Y/N). I've noticed.” He didn't sound accusing in the slightest, yet you felt your cheeks warm from embarrassment. Winters continued in a slightly more conspiratorial voice, “And Nix asked for you specifically.”

You fought the blush creeping up to your ears. “Is that right…I'll, uh, have to lord that over Eugene.”

The corner of Winters’ lips quirked up knowingly. “Of course.”

He placed a hand on your shoulder. “Good luck, Doc. He's in his room. You know how to get there.”

Winters turned and walked away, leaving you standing in the middle of the hallway. It was true that you knew which house he was quartered in; you made it a point to know ever since you began treating his hangovers. However, the thought of being alone with Lew was always nerve-wracking and had been from the start, for reasons you didn't have the courage to explore.

-

With a glass of water and a book in hand, anticipating him to be knocked out from all the liquor in his system, you knocked on the door to his room. As you expected, there was no response save for the soft snoring coming from within. You opened the door a sliver and found the floral-wallpapered room lit up with a bedside lamp and the moonlight pouring in from the open window as the day spanned into night. You spotted a messy-haired head poking out from under the strewn blankets and smelled whiskey in the air. Upon fully opening the door and entering the room, the snoring abruptly stopped. He slurred, half-muffled by the pillow his face was buried in, “Who's there?”

“It’s (Y/N),” you replied, turning on some more lamps around the space.

“Oh. Hey, (Y/N).” Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and ran his hands over his face. It wasn’t the first time you'd seen him in just a tanktop and shorts, his dog tags dangling around his neck, but he had always been half-conscious from a hangover when you saw him like this. Not awake and actively drunk like he was now. “How're you?”

“You're on your way to liver failure, Lewis,” you said sternly as you pulled up a chair next to his bed. “As for me, I'm doing better than you right now.”

He pouted petulantly. “You only call me Lewis when you're mad at me.”

You shot him a look. “And why would I be mad at you?”

“I dunno, you tell me.” Nixon gave you a lazy smile.

You sighed, directing your glare to the bottle of whiskey on the nightstand, which you observed was not even his favorite brand of Vat 69. You handed him the glass of water. “Here, drink up.”

Squinting, he sniffed it. “It's not more liquor, is it?”

“No, it's motor fuel, now drink.”

“Oh no, not more ethanol,” he joked, raising the glass in a cheers motion before downing it and clumsily setting the empty glass on the nightstand. He kept his gaze on you as you sat down, opened up your book, and attempted to read, avoiding his stare.

Crossing his arms behind his neck at your efforts to ignore him, he leaned on the headboard. “What is that? Twain? Poe? Ah, Shakespeare? ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’”

You spared a glance at him. “Sometimes I forget you're a scholar, Lew.”

“Ohoho. Try to play some Beethoven and tell me it's Mozart. I’ll figure it out”—he snaps—“like that.”

“Not in this state you will,” you glowered. Nix retained his expectant countenance, so you answered, “It's A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Some of the guys got done reading it, so now it's my turn.”

He hummed. “What’s it about then, Miss (Y/N)? Enlighten me.”

“If you’d let me read it, then I could tell you,” you said, continuing in a lower voice, "How are you an intelligence officer if you're this mouthy when drunk...and you're drunk most of the time."

“You say somethin’?”

“Nothing, Lew.” You tried to take in the words on the page, but the way he was looking at you made your skin feel hot. Exhaling and setting down your book, you turned your focus to him.

“You still hiding Vat 69 in Winters’ footlocker?” you asked, silently cursing the satisfied expression that spread over his face at your attention.

“Wha, hey, how'd you know about that?”

“You told me. While half-asleep and hungover.”

His lips stretched into a smile as he seemed to recall. “That I did. See, the real shame is that there’s not a single drop of the thing in the whole damn country. So no, there’s no booze in Dick’s footlocker.”

You glanced again at the unfamiliar bottle of whiskey on the nightstand. “And that’s why you've been drinking alternatives?”

“Beggars can't be choosers.” He shrugged with a sluggish wave of the hand. “I'm half-convinced you and Dick are hiding some from me!”

You chuckled. “That's not a half-bad idea. It wouldn't stop you from getting drunk off other kinds of hooch, though. Speaking of… why'd you start drinking this time?”

“Oh, you know.” He gestured vaguely. “I got divorced. She sent me a letter in the mail. Real sweet of her.”

Your face fell, the mood suddenly not so lighthearted. “...I’m sorry to hear that, Nix.”

“It’s alright. Didn’t like her much anyway. She took the dog.” A beat of silence passed, and he gave you an unreadable look. “Was kinda waitin' for it anyhow.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Waiting for it? But before you could question it, you noticed his eyelids drooping as he uncrossed his arms from behind his neck to cover a yawn with his hands. You figured it was better to let him rest before pressing him on it.

“You settling down now?” you asked, getting up to brush his unkempt hair from his face and check his temperature with the back of your hand.

“Yeah,” he murmured. He settled into his bed before tiredly swatting your hand away, complaining, “I’m not hungover yet!”

A slight smile graced your face. “Not gonna piss into a cup this time, are you?”

“Maybe next time,” he said with a smirk before blearily staring at you for a while, like the same way he did all those months ago in Holland. Your heart felt strangled in your chest.

Clearing your throat, you turned and grabbed your book and the glass. “Goodnight, Lew.”

He blinked up at you. “You’re leaving?”

“I’ve got people who need me,” you said, a small laugh bubbling up from your throat.

“What if I need you?”

“Beside a hangover, you'll be fine,” you smiled, believing he was joking until you looked at him and found his face dead serious, almost pleading. Your eyes had to be deceiving you, right? Or maybe your mind was spinning things the wrong way.

He propped himself up on his elbows. “Before you leave," he started, breaking his gaze for a second before meeting yours. "You're really beautiful, you know that?”

You were stunned into silence with widened eyes, floundering for words. “Lew, I…”

“And don't say, ‘You’re drunk, Lewis, you don't know what you're talking about.’ I’ve liked you for months now, (Y/N). Sometimes it feels like I'm fighting this war for you, so we could be together after.” Somehow his voice was the steadiest it’s been the entire night, and that scared you.

You suddenly felt bashful, afraid he could hear your heart pounding loud in your chest. “I…like you, too, Lew.”

A soft beam adorned his flushed face. “And if I forget in the morning, I’ll just tell you again. I’ll tell you over and over until it's the only thing I can remember piss-drunk.”

“I’ll be making sure you're never piss-drunk again, but… I’ll remind you. Keep your word.” You leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“That you will,” he said impishly, grabbing you from around the waist and pulling you next to him in the sheets, his arms encircling your body.

“Hey!” you giggled, struggling against his bear-like grasp. “Can I at least get my boots off?”

He snickered into your hair and held you close.

“Nope.”

-

Bonus:

A couple of hours had passed, and there was no sign of Doc (Y/N). Figuring she was still with Nix, Dick decided to check in on them.

Knocking on the door and receiving no response, he let himself in, saying while surveying the room, “Doc, you still there— Oh.”

-

taglist: @mads-weasley

[lenisoldi]

Band of Brothers Kinktober '24

Hello and welcome to my Kinktober easy company Masterlist!

I am so excited to share my first kinktober list with you guys. I won’t only write smut but angst as well. Lean back and enjoy a month full of Band of brothers smut and angst(;

Happy Kinktober!

Day 1 - Against a wall (Joe Liebgott)

Day 2 - Car sex (Babe Heffron)

Day 3 - Fingering (Chuck Grant)

Day 4 - 13 seconds (Joe Toye) (TW! Domestic violence)

Day 5 - One-Night stand (Skip Muck)

https://www.tumblr.com/lenisoldi/769807278049280000/day-5-one-night-stand-skip-muck-october-was

Day 6 - Wedding night (Harry Welsh)

Day 7 - Jealousy (Johnny Martin)

Day 8 - Sex during Bastogne (Franck Perconte)

Day 9 - Public sex (Edward Tipper)

Day 10 - Punishment (George Luz)

Day 11 - Reading and sex (David Webster)

Day 12 - Office Sex (Dick Winters)

Day 13 - Sex during camp Toccoa (Skinny Sisk)

Day 14 - Make-up sex (Wild Bill)

Day 15 - Disturbance (Floyd Talbert)

Day 16 - Sex during a Family Meeting (Ron Speirs)

Day 17 - Comforting (Albert Blithe)

Day 18 - Honeymoon (Eugene Doc Roe)

Day 19 - Size kink (Buck Compton)

Day 20 - Sex and Horror movies (Donald Malarkey)

Day 21 - Sex on Halloween (Shifty Powers)

Day 22 - Drunk Sex (Lewis Nixon)

Day 23 - Halloween in Arkansas (Bull Randleman)

Day 24 - Home alone (Carwood Lipton)

Day 25 - One last time (John Julian)

Day 26 - Costume (John Halls)

Day 27 - Poem for you (Paul C. Rogers)

Day 28 - Sex after a rough day (James Alley)

Day 29 - Don’t interrupt us (Henry Jones)

Day 30 - H!tlers Adlernest (Alton More)

Day 31 - Freeday

Remember: This is based on the show and not the real soldiers and should not disrespect anyone! And I’m just a student so stories may not be uploaded on time, sry.