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rogue-durin-16 · 12 days ago

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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?

#lewis nixon #lewis nixon x reader #lewis nixon fanfiction #band of brothers fanfic #hbo war #band of brothers fanfiction #band of brothers #lewis nixon angst #lewis nixon headcannons #easy company #x reader #lewis Nixon request #band of brothers request #hbo war fic #hbo miniseries #richard winters

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joe-fuckingtwice-toye · 3 months ago

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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

#there's no way lew wasn't in love with dick #but i was created to create angst #winnix #band of brothers #dick winters #lewis nixon #to feel it more strongly turn on the song 'is my love enough?' by white lies #vensedit

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ithinkabouttzu · 4 months ago

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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! 🥹🤍

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danopdf · 3 months ago

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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.

#band of brothers #dano speaks #winnix #band of brothers fanfic #dick winters #lewis nixon #lewis nixon x dick winters #lewis nixon x richard winters #winnix angst

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liebgotts-lovergirl · 2 years ago

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Fire On Fire: Chapter 13

(Ch. 12) ... (Ch. 1)

Gallery II Tag List Application II Symbol Guide

Summary: Operation Market Garden is underway and American intelligence operatives, now commanded by the British SOE, have their own battles to fight. Sometimes painful situations demand painful sacrifices.

May or may not feature a Smol cameo...👀

WARNINGS: Death, Angst, Violence against women

A/N: Sorry this took so long; I tried to do the thing where I wait & release a chapter once I'm ahead but I'm way too impulsive for that so here lol 💀💖

Taglist: @latibvles @softguarnere @brassknucklespeirs @mccall-muffin @emmythespacecowgirl @bellewintersroe @holdingforgeneralhugs

Contemporary: September 17th, 1944. Eindhoven, Netherlands.

Alix was just finishing up what would be her tenth interrogation of the day when she heard what sounded like singing in the streets outside the hotel they were using as a home base.

She cocked her head and looked over to Andries, the sniper standing beside her, with curiosity in her eyes.

He only shrugged.

"We are happy to be liberated," he said simply before aiming a glare at the man they had backed up against the room's wall.

"Most of us anyway."

The collaborator shook his head, quailing under the teenager's stern gaze.

"I am innocent!" he babbled, his heavily Dutch-accented French coming out barely comprehensible due to his nerves. "What you accuse me of, I would never...You have the wrong man!"

"You're telling me you're not…" Alix checked the coded list of targets she'd kept stashed inside her fake Passport.

"Maurits Van Der Waal? Because if you're not, then there must be somebody else out there who looks just like you and lives at your address selling out your Jewish neighbors to the SS."

“N-No, I am Maurits,” the man stammered, rocking back and forth on his heels “But I…I never help the SS, never.”

“You were seen, you idiot,” Andries snapped harshly, pulling several photographs out of the pocket of his dark green coat and thrusting them into Van Der Waal’s shaking hands.

The collaborator inspected the photos silently, all the blood draining from his face as he realized he’d been caught.

Alix’s dark eyes narrowed as she watched the middle-aged collaborator blubbering excuses pathetically before her, her anger simmering in her stomach.

This rat would get a quick death, she thought bitterly. A mercy he didn’t deserve.

The thirty Jewish families he had sold out to the SS would not be so lucky.

“How much are they paying you, Maurits?” she demanded, cocking the gun with a click. “How much is a human life worth to you?”

“815 Guilder each, by the looks of it," the blond boy, Diederik, answered for him from the corner desk.

He held up a notepad full of decoded messages for them to see and read off, "All of them made out to a...Mr. Maurits Van Der Waal, imagine that."

"Those aren't mine!" Van Der Waal lied lamely, practically bleating through his tears like a goat. "I'm innocent!"

"Tragic," Alix remarked dryly. "Anyway, please face the wall now."

"And if…if I don't?" he sniveled pathetically, a note of hope raising his words. "Will you free me?"

A hope Alix would crush like an insect under her heel.

“If you don’t face the wall, then I’ll shoot you where you stand.”

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

"Well that went well!" Andries commented moments later, as Alix wordlessly knelt to retrieve items from the pockets of the tenth collaborator, who now lay dead on the floor.

Oh yeah, she wanted to snap. Just fucking splendid.

There was a fine line between doing one’s duty and reveling in it, and for the Dutch Resistance, that line seemed to be blurring more and more by the hour.

When she had finished collecting the necessary supplies from the dead man's pockets, one of the younger fighters, a small redheaded boy named Piers, joined Andries in dragging the body over to the corner with the other nine corpses.

Alix didn't know how the Resistance was disposing of the bodies but some things were better left unknown so she didn't ask. There were more pressing matters anyway.

The radio on the desk in front of Diederik crackled to life and he pressed the headset harder against his ear as he strained to hear.

Alix could tell by his concentration-scrunched face that the connection was poor but the boy appeared to still recognize the voice on the other end of the line.

He quickly jotted down some notes before turning to Alix, who had crossed the room to meet him.

"It's Kristof," he responded, tearing a page from his notepad and handing her the coded address he'd just taken down. "The SOE says it's time."

Alix nodded her assent. Nix and Van Kooijk were on the other side of town and she would have to meet them on her way.

The trick would be finding them in the crowds.

Checking herself for blood in the mirror one last time, she smoothed the invisible wrinkles from her skirt before slipping her gun and handheld radio into her purse and quietly exiting the room.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

Stepping out of the hotel and into the street was like being suddenly thrust into a carnival. Jubilant whoops filled the air and streams of bright ticker-tape rained down like flurries of rainbow-colored snow but Alix didn't have time to enjoy the celebration.

She was doing her best to wade through the ever-growing crush of people but she was being jostled from all sides like a toy boat on ocean waves as civilians and soldiers alike rushed to participate in the festivities.

Keeping a white-knuckle grip on her purse, Alix managed to shuffle her way further into the crowd, passing scores of troopers from Dog and Fox company on her way.

Seeing the almost frantic urgency with which the Dutch townspeople were greeting servicemembers, the young agent was suddenly grateful to be in civilian clothes because she didn't need that kind of attention right now.

She needed to find her handler and her contact so she could complete her mission. Nixon had her bottle of Prussic Acid in his pocket because he didn’t trust her to carry it– “It’s liquid cyanide for Christ’s sake!”-- so she would need to retrieve it before locating her target.

As she tried to blend in with the crowd, slipping in behind a cluster of ANC nurses, Alix couldn’t help but study them with a twinge of envy. She wore the same Red Cross armband as they did when she was in uniform, carried the same aid bag slung over her shoulder.

But instead of tourniquets, she carried garrote wire and guns. Instead of syringes, she carried knives. Instead of administering medicine, she would be administering poison.

The women walking next to her got to save lives; all Alix did was take them.

As if somehow reading her thoughts, the freckle-faced nurse to her left gave her a kindhearted smile and in her bright, toothy grin Alix was pretty sure she saw a glimpse of her friend Don shining through.

The spy returned the smile, the fleeting reminder of her own humanity equipping her with the necessary resolve to continue her journey.

She had work to do.

Gathering the dark polka-dotted material of her skirt in her hands and trying not to break an ankle on the cobblestones, Alix squeezed by the nurses and pressed on ahead.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

But by the time she reached the edge of the herd, the joy-filled singing had transformed into something else. Nightmarish, broken screams, jeers, and a grief-stricken wailing that made Alix's stomach twist echoed off the cobblestones. For a moment, she froze, almost unable to fully comprehend the hellish scenes of chaos unfolding in front of her.

The townspeople were brutal, seizing local women from the crowd and hurling them to their knees in the center of the circle. Some looked to be no older than their late teens, bawling as they were stripped to their slips in front of the merciless horde, the roaring of the mob only increasing in intensity as swastikas were daubed onto their foreheads with ink-like tar.

Alix couldn't understand Dutch but she could understand body language and every microexpression on the citizens' faces screamed disgust and hatred.

The women were sobbing, red-faced and quaking with fear as they were yanked by their hair to older women manning clippers like weapons, who would shear them and shove them away afterwards with an almost sanctimonious revulsion.

As the victims were being hauled to their feet, Alix managed to force her eyes away from the mob, searching the faces around her frantically as the harsh burn of rage began to sear her stomach.

Why was no one stopping this?

Even with her training, Alix knew she would never be able to take on a crowd this large by herself. She would need backup.

Where was Joe? Where were Skip and Don? Where the hell was the Resistance?

More and more women were being dragged into the fray and two tall, skinny teenagers shoved their way past Alix, forcing a terrified girl in a salmon-colored dress into the circle with them.

Her bloodshot hazel eyes were wide, tears streaming down her reddened face as the fabric was violently torn from her body.

For a brief second, she met Alix’s horrified gaze before thrusting a hand out in a desperate plea for the agent’s help.

Feeling a violent jolt of grief in her stomach, Alix strained as far forward as she could to reach the girl’s hand but she was too late.

The boy in the burgundy sweater pivoted, wrenching the girl’s arm away and holding her still as they began shearing her head and that’s when Alix saw it.

The boys were wearing orange armbands.

This was the Resistance.

Sickened and infuriated, Alix lunged toward the center of the circle, ready to rip the frightened girl from their grasp, when she felt a calloused hand clutching her upper arm.

Whipping her head around, she met the worried glance of Lieutenant Nixon, whose painfully tight grip on her bicep was the only thing keeping her from launching herself into the fray.

"Niccolò, let go or I swear to God, I’ll break your fucking hand."

It wasn’t an empty threat this time and her handler knew it too, but even so, he didn't flinch.

“The mission, Adelina,” he hissed, tightening his hold on her arm. "Do you want to blow our cover?"

Alix was practically seeing red.

Women were being mercilessly brutalized in the street and all Nix was worried about was their stupid fucking mission?!

But before she could reply, John Van Kooijk emerged from behind them, wearing his usual expression of thinly-veiled smugness.

“Problem?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow, and Alix narrowed her eyes.

“Oh there’s about to be,” she snarled.

The words had barely left her mouth when the agent felt Nixon’s fingers clamp down even harder on her bicep, strengthening his hold in case she decided to try something.

“Be civil to our friend, Lina,” her handler cautioned and Alix snorted with derision, swiveling her head back to meet his eyes.

“Given that my first instinct was to throttle our ‘friend’, I think I’m being perfectly fucking civil right now.”

Turning back to the Resistance leader, Alix gestured with her free hand to the chaos unfolding before them.

“Now, care to explain what the Hell is going on?”

The Dutchman was seemingly unfazed.

"They are collaborators," he stated with a careless shrug. "It is what they have earned."

"What exactly did they do?" Alix demanded, her French coming out rapid-fire in her fury. "Who did they betray?"

"They slept with the enemy," was the vague reply. "This is merciful. We could have had them shot for that."

"This is mercy?" Alix barked out a harsh, humorless laugh. "No, this is a bullshit attempt at retaliation."

Her nostrils were flaring with rage and one fist was balled when she spoke next, the boiling inside her building like a volcano seconds from erupting.

"And for the record, taking your misplaced anger out on people who have no say sounds an awful lot like the enemy we're supposed to be fighting."

"You interrogated and executed ten men only hours ago, yes?" The Resistance leader eyed her skeptically. "But now the Sparrow has a conscience?"

"It was quick,” Alix retorted defensively. “I wasn't torturing people!"

"Neither are we!" Van Kooijk seemed genuinely perplexed at her objections. "This is justice!"

"No, this is vengeance," Alix countered, yanking her arm out of Nixon's cautioning grasp.

"And I want none of it! Go find yourselves a new attack-dog because I'm done."

With that, she pushed past them, storming off ahead but Nixon followed her, keeping himself chained to her right side as they walked so he could deliberately block her from the circle.

"Simmer down, will you?" Nixon had switched from French to Italian effortlessly but even still, his words carried an unusually sharp edge that only served to fan the flames of Alix’s rage further.

“Simmer down, are you fucking kidding me?” Alix was bristling with indignation now but she fought to keep her face impartial and her voice steely calm to avoid arousing suspicion.

“After that? After what they were doing to those girls?”

A small gaggle of civilians passed them by, heading in the direction that the pair had just come from.

Noticing their glances, Nixon faked a laugh as though she’d just said something funny, as though they were merely two friends taking a stroll and not two intelligence operatives seconds away from a fistfight.

Alix played along, painting on a fake smile and nonchalantly lighting up a cigarette, her stride never faltering.

They were both in civilian clothing– Nix in his boxy khaki overcoat that concealed his uniform and Alix in her dark sweater and spotted skirt – so it didn’t take long for the eyes of the Dutch citizens to stray from them as they continued on their journey.

“Just focus on the mission, alright?” Nix commanded out of the corner of his mouth.

"Fuck the mission,” Alix returned quietly. “I'm not doing any favors for people who torture women for fun."

"Oh for Christ’s sake, Adelina, I don't like it either," Nixon sighed in exasperation once the Dutch citizens were out of earshot.

"But if you blow our cover trying to stop this shit, then you can’t take care of Kruger, and more people are going to get hurt. And it won't just be collaborators like this time, it'll be our assets too, other operatives, innocent civilians, maybe troopers too. Is that what you want?"

"Of course it isn’t," Alix snapped as she felt the sudden weight of the prepped cyanide vials being covertly dropped into her purse. "I’m still planning on finishing the mission. I'm just not working with those assholes to do it."

Lieutenant Nixon frowned.

He could already tell where this was going.

"No,” he stated firmly, cutting Alix off before she had even clarified.

“You’re not refusing backup on this one. Any other target, maybe, but not with an SS Lieutenant, not on my watch.”

“Niccolò,” Alix scolded, the clacking of her saddle shoes on the pavement accenting her words. “I’ll be fine. The man’s got trench fever, for Christ’s sake. He might be dead before I even get there.”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Nixon argued. “You could be acting on faulty intel. There’s a leak in the SOE, remember?”

“That’s the risk we take with every mission. It’s never stopped us before.”

“The stakes were never this high before,” Nixon contended, massaging his temple. “The Wehrmacht is one thing but this is the goddamn SS. At least let me send Andries to Oosterbeek with you, just in case. One sniper and I’ll let it go, alright?”

Alix scowled.

“I said No,” she maintained testily after a short drag from her cigarette. “So you can save your breath. I don’t want anything to do with them after what the fuck we just saw. Either I go in alone or I don’t go at all.”

“Putain de merde, Adelina, will you fucking listen?” Realizing his tone had risen slightly, he took a deep breath before lowering his voice again. “You may be willing to gamble with your life but I'm not. I’ll be with the Brits and the 101st so I won’t be on comms and if something happens–”

“If something happens, I’ll take care of it myself,” Alix finished for him with a puff of smoke. “You told HQ I was more than capable, remember?”

“I knew I’d regret saying that,” Nixon muttered with a shake of his head. "I just didn't think it'd be so goddamn soon."

“Besides,” Alix reminded him with a reassuring, sisterly bump to the shoulder.

“Everyone knows Kruger’s an arrogant alcoholic who thinks he’s God’s gift to women. It should be a piece of cake to get him alone and finish the job. I'll be back in no time."

“Still,” Nixon grimaced. “He’s an SS officer. He was trained for adverse situations and if he gets the upper hand at any point, you’re done.”

“Which is why I won’t let him,” Alix assured bracingly. “The man’s not superhuman. He’s already sick, probably drunk, and once he drinks the Prussic Acid, he’s toast. No backup needed.”

Nixon let out a small huff of displeasure and as he glanced at his watch, his frown only deepened.

Both he and Alix knew he didn’t have time to argue. He still needed to ditch his coat somewhere, coordinate with Winters and rejoin Van Kooijk’s group before the Airborne offensive could truly begin.

“Fine,” he grunted with a shake of his head. “But if you get yourself killed, Liebgott, Muck, Malarkey and I are splitting the 10 Grand. Not that I need it.”

Alix cocked an eyebrow.

“I don’t remember designating you as a beneficiary. The others, yes, but not you.”

“Well I think I deserve to be too,” Nixon remarked wryly and hooked her into a light headlock, mussing up her hair with his knuckles.

“As compensation for putting up with your bullshit for 2 years. I already have one pain-in-the-ass sister, I never asked for another!”

Alix gave him a smack on the arm and he released her with a gentle push in the opposite direction.

“Now get a move-on, will you, before your mark leaves the country.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Alix commented with an eyeroll. “Just don’t go getting your hopes up on that payout, alright Gi-”

The younger agent cut herself off abruptly, the realization of her mistake briefly punching the breath out of her. Her smile slipped and she saw Nixon’s bushy eyebrows raise in surprise. But if he recognized the name from her file, he chose not to comment on it.

There was a second of silence as a mutual understanding seemed to pass between the two. There was nothing either of them could do about the dangers of the situation.

All they could do was trust each other: trust that he had prepared her enough for anything she might face and trust that at least some of the SOE's intel was good.

Her life would depend on it.

"Hey, any words of wisdom you'd like to impart before you go, oh great teacher?" Alix inquired jokingly as she tried to keep her mind off the very real possibility that she could be walking into an elaborate trap with no backup.

Lieutenant Nixon mulled the question over for a moment before responding, "You’d better not end up dead or I’ll kill you myself. Clear?”

“Careful, Nico,” Alix deadpanned, shortening his codename just to irk him. “I think you were almost nice for a second.”

Nixon snorted.

"Don’t get used to it,” he snarked. “Someone has to keep you humble.”

With that, her case officer reluctantly stepped off into an alleyway, leaving Alix to continue the rest of her journey alone.

Reaching the Post Office, the spy made her way to the employee side entrance, where according to plan, a slightly-rusted bicycle was waiting for her, propped up invitingly against the building.

And partially tucked underneath the back wheel was a faded orange hair ribbon, subtly designating the bike as belonging to a Resistance member. Easing it away from the wall, she gingerly placed her purse in the basket, arranging it with the utmost care so she could avoid any cyanide leaking onto her designer heels or her gun.

Taking one final breath to settle the uneasy feeling plaguing her, Alix bid a silent goodbye to Eindhoven and began the long ride to the SS headquarters in Oosterbeek.

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kindsummer · 1 year ago

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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.

#band of brothers #lewis nixon #winnix #fics #and this angst masterpiece #grief is real bad and lewis reacts somewhat sanely to it i think #pls pay attention to the tws tho

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luminouslywriting · 6 months ago

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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.

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bloodstainedsaint · 1 year ago

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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

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #lewis nixon x reader #lewis nixon #hbo war #easy company #101st airborne #ron livingston #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers fanfic #hbo war fanfic #dick winters #richard winters #band of brothers imagine

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inglourious-imagines · 1 year ago

Note

practically begging for some george luz w/ enemies to lovers. everyone always writes amazing friends to lovers but there’s sm potential w e2l !!! love ur writing btw xx

Jokes on You (George Luz x Fem!Reader)

Requested by: anon

Summary: George Luz is a funny guy, there is absolutely no denying that. He likes making jokes, and he likes it even more when people laugh at them. So what happens when there comes a person who makes just as good jokes as George? Or maybe even better? Some enemies to lovers for y’all.

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @teenmagazines @meteora-fc @eugenesmorphine @band-of-brothers-cz @real-fans @not-john-watsons-blog @tealaquinn @ok-roemanov @mrseasycompany @punkgeekchic @wexhappyxfew @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @rayofshanshine @mavysnavy @easynix @georgeluzwarmhugs @easy-company-tradition @immrsronaldspeirs @snafus-peckuh @curraheewestandalone @warrior-healer @justamadgirlinabox @happyveday @order-of-river-phoenix @whoahersheybars @nixoninc

Warnings: like two swear words, angst in the form of Bastogne

A/N: I so suck at endings.

Cracking jokes and making people laugh is George’s thing and his only, that’s how it’s always been. He is the funny guy in the group, that’s how he likes to define himself, the funny one. But to define is to limit and George has made the mistake of limiting himself to clinging to one particular personality trait, humour.

And then Y/N came along; about four months into the boot camp Y/N got reassigned from Dog Company to Easy Company for reasons no one knew, except for Lewis Nixon perhaps. George did not start hating her per say right from the moment he met her, but ever since she beat him to the joke when watching his favourite movie he’s strongly despised her. From then on, the feelings only got stronger; she’s always making the whole Company laugh, some of the jokes even on his account which George does not like one bit, hell she even managed to make Blithe chuckle that one day after D-Day.

Y/N had no idea what she triggered by her naturally jokester nature until she had to face a very pissed off George after she blabbed some joke about some actress and then a very pissed off George is the only kind of George she has had the privilege of meeting. The woman has pondered greatly about what she could have possibly done to anger the man so, but nothing came to mind and she soon gave up. George continued and stubbornly continues to be rude to her so she should only repay his “kindness”.

After Carentan, the word of Operation Market Garden is in the air and the Allies are particularly optimistic. Easy is in the pub, celebrating its successes in the war, while some reinforcements are trying to mingle. Y/N is watching it all from behind, the old breed not wanting to socialize with the newbies at all and sometimes the situations can get truly hilarious.

Somehow, in a few minutes, she finds herself behind a table with Luz, Malarkey, Muck and other three reinforcements who are just drinking up George’s story about his valour in Normandy. Her lips itch upwards from now and then, George’s drunkenness making it all the more amusing. Y/N can tell the new guys are impressed and somewhat terrified as well and one of them puts a pin on it when he asks Luz, “And what rank are you?”

The table sits in silence for a moment, for absolutely no one expected such question, not even the other reinforcements, then Malarkey and Muck burst out laughing, almost tipping over their beers.

Y/N chuckles, reaches over, and pats the guy’s arm. “Oh c’mon, it is Private!”

That absolutely finishes off Don and Skip, Skip eventually falls off his chair, the reinforcements are now laughing too; the mood slightly more friendly and at ease than before. Not for everyone though.

George is red to his ears, as he frowns. “The joke wasn’t that good. And it’s not even true.”

Donald is hiccupping now but manages to answer, “A- a bit c- corny, yes, but f-fucking b-brilliant.”

***

At this point the Company is divided into two parts only, one part bets on the two of them killing each other and the other parts bets on them fucking; which it will be is truly in the stars for George and Y/N are face to face again, both of them red in the cheeks from all the anger, both of them shouting some incoherent insults, and as Penkala has put it, “See? Honestly I can really see both happening. They will either kill each other or fuck, there is absolutely nothing in between.”

But then Market Garden happens, an underestimated operation, that leaves behind too many dead than it should and when all of Easy is boarded on trucks, retreating, the company is two people short.

Bull Randleman and Y/N Y/L/N.

The officers discuss what can be done, and despite all of the men wanting to go and save the two of the best soldiers in the company, they know they can’t. And exactly that is making George Luz lose his mind. He can’t really understand why he is so restless, anxious, and downright terrified throughout the whole night; he tosses and turns, he is not able to bring himself to close his eyes.

But then in the morning he sees Y/N on the jeep next to Bull and suddenly he feels like he could fly and go to Berlin and kill Hitler, just so he could see the carefree smile on her face.

It clicks in him just then, and Malarkey pats his shoulder. “So, you’ve finally figured it out, huh?”

George turns to him, confused. “What?”

Malarkey laughs, shaking his head, and says, “Don’t play dumb with me, you idiot, I saw it just now.”

As much as George would like to answer his friend, he truly has no idea what he is talking about, and when that dawns on Donald, he offers George a sympathetic smile.

“Okay, let me put your thoughts to words, ‘cause you’re such an oblivious idiot that you probably wouldn’t figure it out by the time this motherfucking war is over,” Malarkey continues, “you don’t hate her, do you, not really.”

It is not even a question, more of a statement, and George really wants to protest, more than anything, because it is ridiculous, right?

***

The plan to be home by Christmas isn’t really working out for the Allies but the soldiers of Easy Company have already forgotten about those false hopes, they aren’t the ones to be bothered with when you freeze your ass off in a foxhole in the middle of a forest where the trees blow up every now and then and the place becomes a tornado.

Y/N shares a foxhole with Muck and Penkala, the trio trying to lighten up their gloomy moods with laughter. But even Y/N is running out of jokes now, so when doc Roe runs up to them, asking for scissors, she’s more than happy to go look for them with him too, the need to stretch her stiff and frozen body overpowering her whole self.

She’s just a couple of meters away from her foxhole when another German artillery attack comes and the whole forest becomes a hurricane of explosions, splinters, and blood. The soldier throws herself to the ground, crawling her way, slowly, back to her foxhole, Muck and Penkala shouting something at her she can’t hear, encouraging her to hurry up.

Dirt is everywhere, she barely can see, she covers her ears and head with her hands as another hit comes; she continues right after the explosion, crawling, crawling, crawling.

Muck and Penkala are still shouting at her, she is getting closer; Y/N can hear another artillery attack coming but this time she doesn’t stop proceeding, she knows she has to get into the foxhole soon, so she keeps on pushing.

The explosion comes. Everything goes white for a moment. The pressure wave makes her stop moving, and she is forced to close her eyes and cover her head with her hands.

She opens her eyes. There is nothing.

Seconds ago, there were two people, now there is nothing, nothing left, not a single trace that there have ever human beings stood.

Y/N can’t bring herself to move, she stares blankly into the space before her, her limbs are stiff. But then some arms grab her body, she can hear someone shouting at her.

3 seconds. That’s all it takes her to get back. She holds on to George’s arms as they run together to another foxhole, jumping right in. He immediately brings her into his body, she wraps her arms around his torso instinctively, holding onto him so tight, her head resting on his chest. George shields her body from everything outside and when the bombing finally stops, they don’t let go of each other for another few moments.

It isn’t until a few years after the war and they are married to each other, when they finally talk about what happened that day in the forest of Bois Jacques, not a day sooner. Ever since then, their relationship has been changed, both very much aware of it, neither of them brave enough to bring it up just yet.

It is in Haguenau, where they finally share a conversation. George finds her on her own, behind some building, hiding behind some sacks, looking at the river. He throws a Hershey bar into her lap and when she looks up in confusion, he offers her a warm tired smile.

“What did I do to deserve the affection of the one and only George Luz?” she tries to crack up a joke and chuckles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. George knows Y/N is exhausted beyond words.

He sits down next to her, as he opens his mouth to say something, but he rethinks it in the last second and nothing comes out. They sit out there for a few minutes, sharing the silence and strangely enough, it feels nice. George finally does not feel the need to talk all the time, the need to prove himself funny or worthy of other people’s attention.

“Have you ever been to Rhode Island?” he suddenly blurts out, surprising himself and her at the choice of the question.

Y/N smiles, doesn’t ask why or what. “No, never.”

“Then come with me.”

This time she asks what.

“After the war I mean, come home after the war with me.”

“But- but, you-“ she stutters, her cheeks slightly red, “but you hate me.”

George chuckles at that and looks at her. She has bags under her eyes that are a bit bloodshot (she hasn’t slept much in the last few days), her hair is dirty from dirt and sweat, her face has several scratches and marks, his eyes finds the most visible one just below her left cheekbone (he recalls that day in Carentan when a piece of shrapnel hit her and the wound looked way worse then it actually was for she had blood all over her left side of face, freaking out silently has never been so hard – he hadn’t known at that time what will come). He has never seen anything to maddeningly and purely beautiful as her.

“I thought I did, a very long time ago,” he says, “but actually I never did. I don’t hate you. How could I?”

Y/N looks at him and through all the pain, horror, and grief, she feels peace. It surprises her.

And so she responds, “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay, I will come home with you. How could I not?”

#imagine #hbo war #fanfic #band of brothers #band of brothers imagines #george luz #band of brothers imagine #ronald speirs #eugene roe #lewis nixon #george luz x reader #george luz imagine #george luz oneshot

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mads-weasley · 1 year ago

Text

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?

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mads-nixon · 1 year ago

Text

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.

Tag List: @softguarnere @flowers-and-fichte @inglourious-imagines @peggyvan @rebeccapearson @hxad-ovxr-hxart @merriell-allesandro-shelton @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @titiglt @stvrkdream @multifandomfanfic @starlordsatellite @blvestxr @iceman-kazansky @bucky32557038ww2 @sofietargaryen @liptonsbabe @footprintsinthesxnd

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lenisoldi · 2 months ago

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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)

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 Hall)

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.

#band of brothers #easy company #kinktober #october #kinktober 24 #kinktober 2024

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blurredcolour · 10 months ago

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I Wish You Love | Part Five

I Wish You Love Masterlist

Lewis Nixon x Housemaid!Female Reader

You and Lewis make the most of your time together before he returns to America to do his best to free himself to spend his future at your side.

Warnings: Angst, Class Divide, Discussion of Divorce, Lots of Kissing, Sexual Tension and Innuendos, Language, Smoking, Alcohol Consumption, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: I am a lying liar who lies - there are now six parts because Lewis and his darling do not know how to leave me alone. Reader's nationality is British and liberties have been taken in describing her background and family life for the sake of plot. No physical descriptions or y/n used. A good portion of this fic will be letter-based. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 5393

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Returning home shortly before noon the next day, you could not help the fond shake of your head to see Lewis’s borrowed car already parked at the curb outside your flat building. The lovely, impatient man was early, of course. Early enough to see you tired, sweaty, and underdressed once again. You wanted to be annoyed with him, yet you could not find it within yourself to summon any emotion other than amused affection. Stepping into the building, you were in the process of fishing your keys from your handbag when a stunningly familiar voice carrying through the door halted your movements.

“And so that was your plan all along?”

Johnny. Your twin brother, physically absent from your life, existing only in intermittent letters, for years. Much longer than the just war, with your mutual need for employment to support your father had driven you both from home in 1934. A lot was made of some sort of intuition that was supposed to exist between twins, that as they had shared a womb, they surely shared a lot more, but his return home today was a complete shock that had you frozen in place in the hall. The next words out of his mouth did nothing to encourage you to proceed inside.

“You’ve permitted a married man to seduce your daughter, your sweet pea.” He spat, an unfamiliar ugliness in his tone. The comment was certainly directed at your father, but Lewis was undoubtedly in the room, and he confirmed your supposition as he spoke up.

“I would ask you not to insult your sister’s honor, it has been, and remains, utterly unimpeachable.”

“Bloody hell you sure speak like one of them…”

“Johnathon you will mind your tongue. I understand that you have lived differently for quite some time now, but I will not tolerate that sort of language or disrespect in this home.”

Your eyes widened as you heard your father raise his voice, something that happened so infrequently that you could count the sum total of such occasions on the fingers of your own two hands.

“I am quite satisfied,” Your father continued, “with the correspondence between Captain Nixon and his solicitor. I find his intentions for your sister, my daughter, to be completely honourable and I thoroughly encourage them. She has never been happier, Johnny, and if you cannot manage to smile for her when she comes through that door any moment now then you’d better go for a walk until you find a way to.”

Tensing at the thought of your brother angrily storming out of the flat, and right into you, you crept backwards and down the hall toward the stairs leading up to the higher floors, obscuring yourself behind the landing to wait. To see if he was indeed so against the idea of you being happy with Lewis that he would rob you of a reunion with him then. You waited nearly five minutes, which felt like an eternity, until you heard Mrs. Stokes and her herd of children leaving their flat a few stories up, tromping down the staircase towards your hiding place. Johnny had remained inside, there had been no further shouting – at least none that you could hear at this distance.

Taking a fortifying breath, you pulled your keys from your handbag and headed into the apartment, smiling softly as your father and Lewis were chatting in the sitting room. “Good afternoon you two.”

“Well look at you, sis.” Johnny spoke from the doorway to the kitchen, and it was not hard to present a face of shock, for in place of a gangly sixteen-year-old boy, there was a rugged twenty-five-year-old man standing there, grinning at you.

“Johnny!?” You gasped, dropping your handbag as you rushed forward to hug him, squealing as he hauled you off your feet, his time with the 78th Infantry having made him unspeakably strong.

“Blimey you really have gone yellow haven’t you.” He teased and you smacked him affectionately as he set you back on the ground gently. “I’ve heard it goes away after a few months, don’t get your you-know-what’s in a twist.”

“Can we please stop talking about my underclothes and talk about when you got home?” You glanced at Lewis, feeling rather embarrassed to have your knickers discussed in front of him, but he was smiling warmly, unfazed.

“This morning on the first train from London. I gather we’re going out for dinner later?”

“Absolutely, I am looking forward to taking all three of you out together.” Lewis nodded firmly and you smiled at him fondly, vaguely aware of your brother’s scrutinizing gaze upon your face in your periphery.

“We were going to go out for the afternoon, but you just got back and–”

“Go on sis, I hear he’s only in town a few days and you’ll have to put up with me for a lot longer than that. Go have fun, I’ll see you for dinner.”

Hugging him tightly once more, you then kissed Lewis’s cheek quickly before going to get changed into something suitable for a drive and a picnic before the pair of you made your way out to the car, leaving your brother and father to catch up.

“You two look nothing alike you know, I’d never have guessed that you were twins…” Lewis teased as he opened the car door for you.

“That’s what fraternal means – not identical.” You shook your head fondly, hesitating a moment, an apology for your brother’s behaviour dangling on the tip of your tongue.

“Well either way, he loves you very much and that’s all I could ask for on your behalf.” He nodded, eyes widening as you grabbed his face and kissed him soundly, your heart swelling almost painfully inside your ribcage.

His hands planted on your hips, holding tightly but letting you direct the kiss, lips parting compliantly at the tentative swipe of your tongue against his bottom lip. Losing your nerve, particularly in full view of the front window of the flat, you stopped short of sliding your tongue to his, but still felt a rush of pride tingle through you at the ruddy hue to his cheeks as you pulled back from his mouth.

“I’m not entirely certain what I did to earn that but…you’re welcome.” He grinned cockily and your jaw dropped at his impertinence before you laughed brightly, shaking your head as you slid into the car, happy to leave him wondering.

Glancing at the backseat, you raised an eyebrow curiously at the picnic basket and blankets there, wondering just what Lewis had planned for the afternoon.

“No peeking.” He smirked, sliding his arm around your waist to pull you close across the bench seat once he’d started the car, pulling his hand back to shift the car into gear.

“Might I know where we are going?” You asked curiously, resting your chin on his shoulder to look at him playfully as he headed down the lane.

“I thought I might show you where I lived while I was in England – well not the actual house, we’ve given it back to the Wills family, but the town.”

“I’d like that very much.” You nodded firmly, turning to look out the windshield as he headed out on the road out of town.

“We will have to drive past Lydiard, unless you’d like me to take the long way?” He glanced at you, and you shook your head quickly.

“No, it’s alright, I suppose I will eventually pass it at some point, I’d much rather it be with you.”

His hand squeezed your knee affectionately, fingers lingering on your bare skin when he found no interfering stockings until he was forced to employ it again in changing gears as he sped up as you left Swindon behind. You had somewhat bemoaned the difficulty related to finding stockings lately, but as his fingertips idly caressed the side of your knee, suddenly you really didn’t mind very much at all.

As the pair of you drove past the tree-lined drive leading towards Lydiard House, you swallowed to see a series of guards posted at the road, finding the sight altogether unwelcoming and eliminating any last bit of nostalgia you may have felt for the place you had called home for a decade.

“I would bet it feels an awful lot like a prison for the St Johns and the rest of the staff, too.” Lewis muttered and you nodded quickly.

“I have to say I certainly do not miss working fifteen hours a day. Free time in the evenings, it’s been quite a revelation.”

Lewis grinned at you softly, squeezing his hand that had promptly returned to your knee. “I told you that you were much better suited to this life.”

“You did, yes. Thank you.” You pressed a careful kiss to his cheek, paying closer attention to your surroundings as you neared Aldbourne, a town you’d rarely had occasion to visit previously.

Lewis took you on a small tour, pointing out the Nissen huts, or Quonsets as he called them, where the enlisted men had stayed before swinging by Littlecote House where he had been billeted. He regaled you with funny stories from training and that one time his closest friend Dick had been forced to upend his mattress to get him out of bed after a very intense night of celebration. Circling back to the centre of the village, he parked in front of a small bakery, opposite the village green.

“We just need to pick up our dessert and then we’ll be ready for lunch?”

You nodded warmly, sliding out of the car with him as he led you into the shop. It smelled positively divine inside, all sorts of sweets in the display cases.

“I’m here to pick up an order for Nixon?” Lewis smiled and the girl behind the counter looked up with wide eyes.

“Leftenant! We didn’t think we’d see any of you boys back here again.” She smiled up at him brightly, fairly batting her eyelashes at him.

“Just wanted to be sure my girl had a chance to try the best lardy cake in all of England.” He smiled smoothly, looking to you warmly.

Swallowing tightly, you could not help but notice the way the girl’s face fell as he tugged you closer.

“Anything you’d think your father and brother would like as a souvenir of our travels?”

Normally you would have refused, been stubborn and reticent in the face of his generosity, but there was something about the way the girl was throwing daggers at you as she retrieved a box with his name on it from under the counter that emboldened you.

“Perhaps a few imperial cookies?” You looked up at him hopefully and he rewarded you with a quick peck to the cheek.

“A dozen of the imperial cookies as well please.”

“Of course, leftentant.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting the impulse to correct her sharply as you felt rather territorial about that title – more precisely that pronunciation of that title. You waited quietly as she packed a box of the cookies and Lewis paid the total. You were more than a little relieved to say your goodbyes and leave the shop, baked goods in hand, and retrieve the picnic supplies from the car.

“Can I help you carry something?”

Lewis paused a moment before passing you the blankets, taking the boxes from the bakery and the rather heavy looking basket himself.

“You know I packed artillery shells for the past seven months, I am not helpless.” You teased as you followed him across the street onto the village green.

“Just because you can, darling, doesn’t mean you are expected to.” He replied with a smirk, waiting for you to unfurl the blankets on the ground before the pair of you settled in.

“So long as you remember that I am not helpless, Lewis.” You replied firmly, watching him unearth several packets of sandwiches, some fruit, and a bottle of lemonade from the basket along with glasses to drink from.

“I assure you I would never dream of considering you helpless. After all you rescued a drowning dog from a lake while wearing a full-length dress.” He grinned, popping the seal on the bottle to fill you a glass. “Climbed the highlands to procure me heather and grouse feathers, poured TNT and lifted artillery shells, served a certain honorable without murdering her for her deplorable behavior…” His tone had started off teasing but as he set the glass in your outstretched hand his face grew serious. “No darling, if anything I really quite admire you.”

Ducking your head shyly you took a sip of the tart liquid, enjoying the way it sparkled on your tongue. The pair of you picnicked happily in the sunshine, demolishing most of the sandwiches and fruit before Lewis unboxed the cake.

“The best in England, you say?” You grinned, peering at it curiously.

“Well, all of us in the 506th would certainly say that, but I wonder what a real Englishwoman will say.” He smirked, using a knife from the picnic basket to cut a slice, holding it out for you to take a bite.

Looking to his expectant face before glancing back down at the outstretched piece of cake, you leaned in to take a bite, holding your hand in front of your mouth as you sat up to chew thoughtfully. As the flavour of it spread across your tongue, you began to nod happily.

“Oh wow, that’s probably the best I’ve ever eaten as well.” You agreed once you swallowed your mouthful.

Lewis beamed happily before taking the next bite from the piece still in his grasp, leaning back onto his forearm lazily as you prepped another slice for yourself, trying not to spend too long drinking in the length of his body in such an enticing pose. Looking around the village square instead, you smiled.

“It’s so peaceful now, I can only imagine the havoc you all wreaked.” You laughed softly and he chuckled.

“Havoc is an excellent choice of word, darling…”

After you’d both eaten your fill, you carefully packed up the remnants into the basket, setting the bakery boxes aside to take home for your father and Johnny to have a go at them. The shadows began to creep across the grass and a glance at your utilitarian wristwatch told you it was nearly four-thirty. Lewis suddenly sat up, drawing your gaze as he fidgeted slightly before shifting closer to you.

“Darling I…know I can’t make as much of a fuss about this as I’d like to but… We’ve been talking an awful lot about the future and what it might look like, and it would be a mistake if I didn’t make it official. Or as official as I am able, at this point.”

You held your breath, focusing intently as you did your best to hear him over the rushing of blood in your ears.

“Would you do me the honor of wearing this ring as a promise of my intention to marry you?” He produced a velvet box from his pocket, opening the lid to reveal a ring very much to your taste, not too many stones, in the metal of your choice, showing just how closely he had been paying attention to your preferences yesterday.

“Lewis…” You exhaled in awe and looked to him, eyes wide with wonder. “Yes…I of course…” You smiled, finding your eyes suddenly blurred by tears as he pulled you into his warm embrace.

“I thought…you’d maybe want to wear it on your right hand and then…when I get the divorce finalized, I’ll write you right away and then you can put it on your left, like a proper engagement ring.” He murmured against your cheek, and you smiled so broadly it made your jaw ache.

“I love you so very much, Lewis Nixon.” You shifted back to kiss him warmly, sighing against his lips as his fingers slid up your neck to cup your jaw.

“I love you too, darling.” He replied once you’d parted for breath, and he plucked the ring from its box to slide it onto the fourth finger of your right hand. “This is only the beginning.”

If only you’d known how seriously Lewis would take that statement. The baked goods immediately followed by a lavish dinner went a long way to easing your brother’s concerns and then all too soon Lewis had to return to France for his boat home. It was exceedingly difficult to see him go, though it was a relief to know you that, at least this time, you were not sending him off to combat.

It was not long after his departure, however, that your father began to receive regular wire transfers to cover rent and other necessities. Your father feigned innocence, though you did not believe him for one moment, as Lewis would not have known the necessary sum otherwise. You took to a letter to chastise Lewis, albeit lovingly.

While his subsequent responses acknowledged your wishes, they also cleverly shifted the focus to seeking your approval of potential homes and venues for your inevitable nuptials. It was late January of 1946 when a large trunk arrived by courier when you finally received the news you had been long awaiting. Johnny was at work, your father at the pub. You were enjoying a rare moment at home alone after finishing work for the day, having kept a small roster of clients to accumulate pocket money to spend on previously frivolous things like skin care and hair cuts.

Signing the receipt slip, you had the delivery man set it in the living room before kneeling to open it, gasping at the neatly folded piles of clothing contained within. Laying atop were two envelopes, one letter-sized and another legal-sized. You quickly retrieved the letter, assuming it would contain the most explanation, and sliced it open with your trusty butter knife.

It was fortunate that you were the only one at home, for the childish squeal you let out as you fell onto the sofa would have been a mortifying thing for anyone else to witness. Fumbling slightly, fingers made clumsy with glee, you took the ring from your right hand and quickly slid it onto your left where it truly belonged, holding it up to admire it proudly. Glancing at the watch on the same wrist, you sat up, realizing you still had time to send your reply and grabbed your handbag and overcoat, dashing out the door and down the lane to the post office.

It took a bit of explanation from the clerk, it being your first telegram after all, but you managed to condense your words to keep the entire process affordable.

The next few weeks were a flurry of activity, with Lewis’s reply arriving by cable the next day that he would be in London mid-February. You employed the services of a local seamstress, as ordered, to have your trousseau properly fitted. Lewis proved yet again that he had paid attention, having sent a few dresses and ensembles in ivory and white to choose from – and mercifully nothing so ostentatious as a full wedding gown. You were able to give ample notice to your clients and you’d already procured a passport – thankfully you’d started that process in September of the previous year. Using your accumulated ration coupons, you purchased a swimming costume and an irresistibly fine nightgown for your wedding night.

It felt like no time at all before the three of you were stepping into the suite at the Ritz that Lewis had reserved for you to get ready for your wedding that evening, and the rest of your family to stay the night before returning to Swindon on the morning train while the pair of you headed out on your honeymoon. You were startled to find a young woman waiting for you there.

“Good afternoon miss, sirs. My name is Sara. Mr. Nixon has sent me to assist you in getting ready. He asked me to give you this before you could protest.” She held out an envelope of telltale Ritz stationery and you took it with a fond sigh, following her into the room where the bellhop deposited your trunk.

Huffing in bemused annoyance, you quickly turned your attention back to Sara, working with her to hang up your outfit for the impending ceremony before looking over the selection of ‘decorations.’ Lewis had sent several sets of jewelry for you to choose from and after some deliberation you eventually settled on one before submitting yourself to Sara’s talents as she saw to your hair. Mercifully, all rumours had proven true, and the yellow hue had vanished from your skin and hair, returning you to your normal appearance. Your diligent use of skin care had also gone a long way to soften the callouses of your work-roughened hands and by the time Sara was through with you, you almost didn’t recognize yourself.

Stepping out to where Johnny and your father were waiting in their new suits, purchased with a hoarding of ration coupons and Johnny’s excellent wages from his new post at the Great Western Railway, the three of you gawked openly at one another.

“Well, we certainly clean up nice, aye?” Your father grinned.

“You look pretty as a picture, sis.” Johnny grinned and pulled you in for a hug just as Sara hurried out with a small bouquet of white roses.

“Don’t forget these, miss. Your car to the embassy is waiting downstairs.”

You took it carefully and smiled to her. “Thank you so very much for your assistance, Sara, I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, my pleasure miss.” She blushed prettily, bowing her head shyly. “I’ll see to it that your trunk is moved to Mr. Nixon’s suite with the rest of your luggage. Congratulations.”

You parted with your thanks before heading downstairs, trying not to roll your eyes when you found the waiting car was a Rolls Royce. You really might have to murder him at the end of that aisle. Climbing in carefully, the three of you drove to number one Grosvenor Square, the address of the American Embassy. It had been Lewis’s idea of course, and only possible given that he personally knew the ambassador Mr. Harriman.

It was his hope that it would ease your immigration to the United States, to be technically married on American soil, while still being able to have Johnny and your father in attendance. The building was rather imposing as you climbed out of the car, thanking the driver as he held the door, not at all what you would have imagined for your wedding. Then again, you’d never imagined marrying an American divorcé set to inherit a great fortune one day, either.

Surrendering your coats to one of the ambassadorial staff, you took a moment to compose yourself as Johnny stepped into the reception room, nodding to your father when you were ready before the doors were opened and you made slow progress down the aisle, allowing for the extra time it took him to manipulate his prosthetic leg with each step. You were pleased Lewis had chosen a smaller room, there were not that many people in attendance, really just the ambassador and his wife, your small family, and Lewis and yourself. But as you walked down the short aisle towards the man waiting for you in black tie with the officiant at his side you were certain nothing had ever been more perfect in your entire life.

Your father shook Lewis’s hand before giving you a quick peck on the cheek, ambling over to his chair as Lewis took your arm in turn. He leaned in to whisper warmly in your ear.

“You look incredible, darling.”

Swallowing tightly, you whispered back. “You are lucky there are too many witnesses to commit manslaughter here.”

He barely contained his laughter.

The ceremony was sweet and simple. The signing of the licence took a little extra time as you also completed your immigration application at the same time, with his excellency Mr. Harriman signing as a sponsor – a breathtaking honour which you were quite certain you would never be able to fully process. Lewis had also clearly bought the wedding bands at the same time as the engagement ring as they all looked quite smart next to one another once placed on your respective fingers.

The intensity of Lewis’s eyes on yours as the officiant pronounced you man and wife had you feeling rather apprehensive of the kiss he was about the lay on you, a kiss you were admittedly no less desperate for after nearly six months, but reticent to share in front of an audience. To your surprise, and slight disappointment, it was a soft and utterly appropriate kiss that only left you wanting more as the small group of attendees applauded your finally-accomplished-union.

Bestowing the bouquet upon the ambassador’s wife insistently, in gratitude, you finally allowed Lewis to pull you down to the separate car waiting to take the pair of you back to the hotel where the four of you would celebrate in a private dining room. The driver had barely closed the door before Lewis was pulling you close, at last delivering the thorough conquering of your mouth you had been yearning for as you clung to his coat, not wanting to ruin his styled hair.

“I have missed you far too much, darling.” He whispered against your lips as the driver pulled the car into traffic. “How will I ever repay your patience with me?”

“Do not remind me of balances and things owing, Lewis, I’m in a good mood.” You teased fondly. “You will meet my rage tomorrow when we’re stuck on a boat together for days on end. Tonight is for celebration only.”

He responded with a lopsided grin as his gaze traversed your face, expression fading slowly to one of seriousness before he kissed you fiercely once more, hands sliding dangerously close to your carefully pinned hair. You pulled back quickly with a pout.

“You can ruin that later.” You panted a little and he pressed his face against the crook of your shoulder.

“I will ruin more than your hair later.” He spoke, breath skating along your skin, making you shudder for many reasons. “Darling, are you certain this is not your murder plot unfurling right before my eyes?” He lifted his eyes to look up at you with a pained expression, your fingers reaching out to cup his cheek sympathetically as the car pulled up outside the hotel.

Summoning the strength to compose yourselves as the driver came around to open the door, you stepped out carefully and took Lewis’s arm to head inside, rather enjoying the way people glanced at the pair of you approvingly.

A small feast of beef wellington, Victoria sponge, and tea with milk and sugar – among other delights – awaited you all back at the Ritz. Lewis was barely able to keep his hands from ensnaring yours, his knee from pressing against your thigh, from feeding you bites of food proudly. He did an amiable job of getting to know Johnny better this time despite his distraction, the previous adversarial tension having evaporated from your brother with the arrival of the divorce decree several weeks ago. Lewis took great interest in Johnny’s employment and the topic of conversation devolved into a rather intense debate about railways…even as Lewis began to pull the hem of your dress higher beneath the tablecloth with tantalizingly bold fingertips. Eventually your father dragged a very stuffed and well-liquored Johnny off to bed, freeing the two of you from the obligation of entertaining them any longer at which point Lewis lifted your left hand to press a kiss to the rings on your finger.

“Well, Mrs. Nixon.”

You smiled shyly, but delightedly, to hear your new title from his lips. “Well, Mr. Nixon.”

“Fait accompli. At last.”

Nodding warmly, you leaned in to kiss him gently, giggling as he tasted of icing sugar and strawberry jam from his last bite of cake. “We should let them in here to clean up.”

“Are you propositioning me, Mrs. Nixon?” He teased as he stood, sliding his arm around your waist as you stood in turn.

“No!” You squeaked in self-defence, though you were more than a little enticed by his earlier promises from the car.

“Then allow me to proposition you, I would very much like to see what you’re wearing underneath this lovely outfit.”

“Mr. Nixon!” You feigned shock even as you pulled him out of the private dining room to head up to your shared suite.

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Read Part Six

I Wish You Love Masterlist

Tag list: @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos, @bcon24, @gretagerwigsmuse

#lewis nixon x reader #lewis nixon imagines #lewis nixon imagine #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #hbo war fic #lewis nixon #band of brothers #easy company

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ithinkabouttzu · 8 months ago

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Easy co.’s reaction to their s/o getting injured

genre! angst; romance

warnings! cursing, anxiety, mentions of blood and death, mentions of war, and sad themes.

description! The easy co. boys reaction to you being injured. (no disrespect to any real vets.)

a/n: I made this pretty vague so you can imagine it however you like 😭 but for each persons I feel like it gets progressively longer. Anyways have fun reading!!

taglist: @executethyself35 @linhkhanhcps @1waveshortofashipwreck @grumpy-liebgott @barbeygirl @samwinchesterslostshoe @ronsparky @sweetxvanixlla (sorry i’ve been forgetting to put the taglist friends!! If you want to be on this list, let me know!! :))

(gn! reader)

Dick winters: He would be so worried. His mind wouldn’t be on anything else at the moment other than your well-being. He feels like a bad boyfriend because he wasn’t there to protect you :( He gets so nervous and would try his best to be by your side the entire time that you’re getting well.

Lewis Nixon: He freaks out when he finds out that you got hurt. He rushes to wherever you are and demands to see you. When he does finally see you he’s so gentle and soft. He holds your hand and reminds you over and over again that he will always be there for you.

Carwood Lipton: He somehow feels like it’s his fault. There was nothing he could have possibly done to prevent it, but he feels like a crappy boyfriend for it, he apologizes to you multiple times. Because he thinks he should have been there for you.

Joe Toye:He gets so mad. He’s ready to go out and hunt whoever hurt you. He will honestly go out looking for a fight. When he sees you he gets even angrier though because who could do that to you? He’s hard on himself because he thinks he should have been there to protect you.

Joe Liebgott :When he hears that you got hurt he goes out to find you immediately. He doesn’t care if he gets in trouble or not, you are his first priority. He’s definitely pissed but would never show that you, mostly at himself and the person that got you hurt. But he makes sure not to make his feelings show and tend by your side.

Bill Guarnere: He would be completely irate, but instead of going out and trying to find the fucker that hurt you he would check to make sure you were okay and stable first. “I’ll get him doll. Don’t worry” He would most likely be irritable around the guys for the rest of the day or longer because of it.

George Luz: He’s so so worried. He can’t think about anything else but you. He would hope and pray that you’re okay until he can finally see you. When he does he holds your hand to his chest and rubs your hand softly. Telling you over and over again that everything will be okay.

Bull Randleman: He gets so protective. He would find you almost immediately and wouldn’t leave you out of his sight for a second. He’s so patient and caring while you’re in such a vulnerable state. “Trust me. I’ll never let someone do that to you again, darling. I promise.”

Floyd Talbert: He freaks out immediately, the tough guy act would be completely gone when he sees you get hurt. He doesn’t care about anything at the moment other than you and your safety. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m not leaving.” He stays so close to you until you get better.

Eugene Roe: He gets there almost immediately and when he sees you he stops. He’s completely frozen for a second because he hates seeing you in such pain. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise.” He prays in his head the entire time while he fixes you up and hopes that you’ll make it through.

Skip Muck: He gets so serious when they tell him that you got hurt. He wants to know everything that happened to you. How it happened and if you would be okay, he would ask roe relentlessly until he got the answer he wanted. When you finally get better enough to see him he’s so sweet and gentle with you.

Don Malarkey : He wants to go find whoever hurt you but he also knows that he needs to be with you in the moment. He gets so so worried and the other guys would have to reassure him that you’re gonna be okay. He swears he can’t lose you. He can’t bear to do anything until he gets the “yes” that you’re okay.

Shifty Powers: When they tell him that you’ve been hurt, you were already taken away before he could see you. He would just sit by himself in silence. Not talking to anyone or engaging in conversation like he usually does. His spark would be gone until they let him know that you were gonna be alright.

Babe Heffron: His reaction would be a mixture of emotions, he would seem very angry and stressed when he finds out that you’re hurt. He feels like a horrible boyfriend because he thinks he could have protected you from being hurt. On the inside, he’s scared and terrified that you won’t make it back to him.

Frank Perconte: He needs to know where you are immediately once the guys let him know that you’ve been hurt. He feels sick to his stomach when they tell him something bad happened to you. He wish he could just take away your pain and you be happy and healthy. He wouldn’t be able to eat or sleep until he knew you were back to normal.

Ronald Speirs: He gets furious. One because he should have been there with you when it happened, and secondly because he believes that it could’ve been prevented if one of the other men were looking out for you. Until you get back from the hospital he would sink himself into paper work to pass time, waiting until he could see you again.

Chuck Grant: He doesn’t care for all of the details, he just needs to know if you’re okay or not. He honestly wishes that it was him getting hurt instead of you. He hopes that you will be okay and he really wishes that you won’t be in the hospital for too long. He would miss you too much :(

Johnny Martin: He honestly just gets pissed at the world. You’re the least deserving to get hurt and now you’re the one who is in such bad condition . He wishes he could do something to make you feel better. He feels like a bad s/o because he can’t immediately take the pain away from you.

Skinny Sisk: He would be in total shock. It never occurred to him that there was a possibility you could get hurt, his plans of you and him making it out perfectly fine vanished from his mind. If he does get the chance to see you he will promise to do anything to help you get better, and to be there for you no matter what.

David Webster : He thinks it’s a horrible joke when the guys tell him that you were hurt and now in the hospital. He’s in denial for a while. Still shocked that you got hurt when you were just talking to him moments ago. He tries to find a way to see you even if he gets in trouble.

Buck Compton: It breaks his heart when he sees you like that, fear would creep up into his mind and overwhelm him until he knew that you were going to be alright. He genuinely thought he lost you for a second and feels so much more protective over you afterwards.

If you enjoyed this, make sure to like or reblog!! Have a wonderful day friends! :))

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